#No one is happy about this and the state of their soul

[jasvtsc]

demon!dean x angel!reader.

tw! mentions of death, anxiety, blood, graphic language, manipulation, dean being an a-hole, corruption, grammar mistakes (ig)

word count! 2.1k

it was hard seeing dean in this state.

at first, you thought he was dead. you watched him die in your arms. then, you found out that he was a demon? and to make everything worse, no one wanted to tell you anything — they thought it was for the best.

why? you had no clue.

so, when they brought him in, back to the bunker, you almost got a heart attack. you wanted to scream, cry, throw up and do everything else that humans do when they’re overstimulated with emotions. however, your state of distressed euphoria didn’t last for long when the bad news came crashing down on you, making you hyperventilate and experience what was called a panic attack. while you were getting more human, your beloved was turning into his worst nightmare.

dean was a demon.

yeah, he indeed died a year prior, but because he was bearing the Mark Of Cain at that time, he was resurrected. and you weren’t exactly sure if you were happy about that.

sure, it was dean. he looked the same.

but it wasn’t your dean.

those green eyes, once full of love and adoration for you, now were as empty as the hole in your heart that his death left. whenever you looked at him, you didn’t see him — the soul once shattered but put back together by you. now, it was only darkness which consumed every tiny bit of light you tried so hard to put in him.

it wasn’t your dean.

you were sitting in the war room in your usual place — an armchair in the corner, right next to the cabinet stuffed with lore books and other things. nervously picking at your wings, you let the feathers drop to the ground as you stared with empty eyes at the wall in front of you. castiel and sam were discussing what to do with dean and how could they possibly save him — if the whole process was even reversible.

you had no idea how they managed to catch him in the first place and drag him back here — no one was telling you anything. you were as clueless as you could be, knowing only that the man you loved the most was now the creature of darkness you were taught to despise since the early stage of creation.

you didn’t get a chance to talk to him yet. and you weren’t exactly sure if you wanted to. you only saw how they dragged his unconscious body to the basement and locked him up in there, chained to the chair in the middle of the anti-possession symbol.

as more and more feathers covered the wooden floor, the man and your angel brother noticed the state you were in. they looked at each other and then back at you. sam sighed and came closer, placing his hand on your shoulder. you shivered lightly and looked at the younger winchester.

“hey, listen, we think that we found something which can help bring dean back. but we can’t leave him alone here so—“ sam explained with a soft smile, and you could see that when he turned his head towards cas, he wanted him to continue. the angel widened his eyes and nodded.

“oh, yeah. we want you to stay with him,” as always, painfully straightforward.

“why me? can’t one of you stay?” because frankly, you didn’t want to face him. not yet.

“birdie, you’re—“ sam started, but you quickly cut him off.

“don’t call me that,” you said with a stern voice, your tone almost threatening. it was what dean used to call you. no way you’d let this word slip from someone else’s mouth — it was reserved only for dean winchester.

“okay, fine, i won’t,” he raised his hands in surrender, taking a step back as he felt like you were about to hit him with something. “it’s just… you’re in no shape to go outside at the moment. look what you’ve done to your wings—“

“what i do with them is my fucking business,” you hissed, and both of them were stunned. you just cursed.

they were looking at you in disbelief, and suddenly, you felt embarrassed with your little outburst. however, you weren’t going to apologize for your feelings — you had an absolute right to be upset and frustrated. so, shooting them both a cold glare, you left the room.

in the end, you were left alone with dean. it took you some time to mentally prepare for the confrontation. but eventually, you pulled your shit together and decided to go down to the basement.

carrying a tray with some food, you slowly opened the door and peeked inside. suddenly, you felt as if your heart was about to burst out of your chest, and your mouth was dry as if you hadn’t seen a drop of water in days. you slowly walked out into the dim light, showing yourself to him after god knows how long.

and then, you heard it — a mocking, cold-hearted chuckle that echoed through the air.

“oh, now, who do we have here? my little birdie. i missed you so much, baby. did you miss me, too?” he asked with a cruel smirk, tilting his head to the side as he sized you up, his eyes flashing a pitch-black colour for a second.

for some reason, all the courage you built up in yourself vanished as soon as you made eye contact with him. he was scary. you never thought you’d admit it, but you were genuinely scared of the man who once used to hold you so dearly in his arms, stroking your hair and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he placed small kisses on your temple. now, he had this darkness in his soul that made you want to hurl — your angelic nature physically declining being anywhere near such evil.

you tightened your fingers on the tray, looking around the room, thinking what you should do. you couldn’t free him from his restraints, but then again, he had to eat, somehow. because still, you cared about him. fuck, you still loved him.

“come on, birdie. you’re not even going to say hi to me? please, let me have a look at your pretty face. it’s been so long,” he cooed, suddenly putting on that soft voice you were so used to hearing. but then again, you could just sense the mockery and the dark intention behind his words. everything coming out of his mouth in this moment was insincere.

but was that enough to make you weak? yes.

because, oh god, even if it was just for your delusions and how naive you were, you just wanted him back. you wanted your dean back, and you were ready to pretend as long as it was needed.

so, slowly, you looked up at him, trying to hold back your tears as they dwelled in your eyes, threatening to spill down your rosy cheeks.

dean smirked menacingly, running his tongue over the top row of his pearly white teeth, letting out a grunt as he bit his lower lip, slightly thrusting his hips forward and spreading his legs.

“there we go. my good little angel,” he taunted, eyeing you up and down with a predatory smile.

“what happened to you?” you asked meekly, your voice trembling as you swallowed a lump in your throat. you were sick to your stomach, and the smell of evil basically radiating from him didn’t help.

“me? nothing, birdie. it’s me, dean. your dean. your precious human, don’t you remember?” he tried acting clueless and innocent but quickly gave in to his demonic nature, letting out a cruel laugh as he threw his head back. “come on, don’t act so fucking dense. i’m a demon, now. you should’ve gathered that much by now. or did they not tell you? no wonder. you’re so fucking infantile that it’s just straight-up pathetic. you’re not a fucking kid. sure, you’re this cute, little, clueless angel. but come on, use your damn feathered brain sometimes,” he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

and holy shit, did that hurt.

you bit your lower lip, your eyes now obviously glossy when you let out a small sniffle. you just wanted to run and hide somewhere, away from him and his cruel insults. now, you were 100% sure.

it wasn’t your dean.

you were ready to leave the basement. you turned around and took a deep breath, but dean wouldn’t let you go so easily. as soon as he noticed that you wanted to escape, he used his soft voice. again.

“hey, hey, hey. birdie, i’m sorry. you know i didn’t mean that. it’s just—“ he grunted as if he was struggling. “it’s this demon in me. i can’t control it,” he started panting heavily, a smirk still on his face as you were turned with your back facing him. “birdie, please. you have to believe me. i would never hurt you.”

damn, did that work.

hearing him struggle and be in pain just cut at your heartstrings. quickly, you turned around with a panicked expression and stepped closer to him.

“dean?” you asked, your voice breaking as tears flooded your face, dropping from your chin onto his thighs. he nodded, putting on an act and using his most pathetic expression.

“it’s me, birdie. please, help me,” he almost choked on his words, his voice pained and hurting. “please, baby, you’re the only one i can count on.”

you knew you’d probably regret that later. but jesus, you were so gullible, and you loved him so much.

almost immediately, you freed him from his restraints, cupping his face and stroking his stubbled cheeks. he sighed and grabbed your wrists, giving them a gentle squeeze as he leaned into your touch. at this point, you were long gone.

“tell me what’s happening, dean. let me help you,” you whispered, carefully scanning his face, still clueless that all of it was just a scene.

“it hurts. baby, it hurts so badly,” he whimpered, squeezing your wrists tighter. hearing that only made you panic even more.

“where? tell me where, i’ll heal you,” you sobbed, your vision blurry because of your tears.

“you can’t. you can’t heal it,” he panted, closing his eyes shut and grunting in mock pain.

“what do you mean?” you widened your eyes. “why not?”

“there’s only one way you can help me,” and you were ready to do anything for him, your self-preservation instincts turned off instantly. with a nod, you encouraged him to continue. “birdie, i need your blood.”

and that was enough for you to freeze on the spot. your mouth went dry, and you exhaled a shaky breath. he needed your blood, which was probably the most sacred thing in the universe. angel blood was the rarest to get, and it had its power.

“h-how? why?” you stuttered, shaking your head as you tried to understand it. you didn’t know anything about angels helping someone with their blood. and you were scared of the possible consequences.

dean cursed in his head, trying his best not to frown and scoff. instead, he kept on with the pathetic act. he whimpered again and then grunted, leaning forward as he put his hand on his chest, pretending that he struggled to breathe.

“please. i- i can’t,” he groaned and then screamed in pain.

“okay, what do i do?” you asked, widening your eyes as even more panic flooding your system.

“feed it to me. please, birdie. let me drink your blood,” he begged and then, you acted purely on your feelings, throwing any remaining logical thought out the window.

without much further ado, you lifted one of your wings and took a single feather. you slit your wrist with the sharper end, and as the crimson liquid started dripping down your skin at high speed, you put it closer to his face.

dean closed his eyes and inhaled the metallic scent. it took him a lot of effort not to moan in pure pleasure and excitement. he licked his lips and then grabbed your hand, putting his mouth in your wrist and drinking your blood like a man starved. you gasped and scrunched your eyes, tilting your head away as he dug his teeth into your skin for a better grip.

you began to feel more and more lightheaded as he drank more and more of your blood. when you finally looked back at him, only then did you realize your mistake. his eyes were pitch black, and his mouth was covered in your blood. he pulled away and smiled sadistically, looking at you like a feral animal.

he pushed you onto the floor and chuckled darkly, looking around the room. he grabbed the feather you dropped and it practically rotted in his hand, turning into a dark blade-like object. you widened your eyes, crawling away from him as he started to walk towards you with a bloodthirsty smile. and then, only one word slipped from his blood-covered mouth.

“run.”

a/n: idea inspired by @angelicjackles !! lmk what you think, all feedback is very much appreciated:))

༄♡ tags: @internetitgirl17 @beausling @deanswidow @titsout4nicholas @deansbite @aileenunfiltered @a1ecmcdowell @angelicp0etry @figthoughts @fitxgrld @hrtsoldierboy @10ava01

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Fading with the Leaves: 1/2

‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ ‎ ‎Ellie Williams x Fem! Reader‎ ‎ ₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

݁ ˖ ◜WARNING: Sensitive content. Mentions of grief, PTSD, violence, etc.

݁ ˖ ◜Word count: 4k

݁ ˖ ◜Description: After Ellie loses Joel, everything changes. Her touch fades from your body, replaced with a bitter shell of who once loved you. There is no promise that she will ever return, and you have to learn to give up, though that's easier said than done.

You followed her everywhere she went like blood trailing behind a body, and somehow also like a blessing that's inevitable to humanity, a much needed saving.

You would someday save her.

Ellie constantly felt the flatbacks hit. All of the moments she once took for granted with Joel and now all of those memories felt as if they were for nothing; she was once factually content with her life. The loss and the trauma that she had faced before Joel came into her life became nothing but a scab when she moved to Jackson.

From top to bottom, Ellie was a smart girl. She knew how to kill, how to survive, and how to get herself out of dangerous situations in creative ways. She was raised into violence and grew into a complicated adult. One thing they don't tell you about living in a hellish world like hers is that the flustered, awkward feelings that arise from a sweet face aren't something any knife or round of ammo can prevent.

You were always in her vicinity and at first, she felt as if she were crazy. This beautiful, sweet girl wanted to talk to her? She just couldn't believe it. As time went on, you'd naturally grow on her like the prettiest species of vines that she didn't think to ignore, unlike the verdure that sprouted on the abandoned bricks of the old world.

The blush in your cheeks, those soft smiles passed around town like your own personal calling card, and the scent of cheap strawberry lotion following you like a cloud only haunted her mind. She felt all of this before Joe's death happened. Unfortunately, she knew how much she loved you much before that, and it would be like an everlasting fear that even if she pushed you to the other side of the world, the salty taste of your skin would be engraved into her mind and it made her sick to her stomach in a way that made bile sound appetizing.

Two happy years of having you, or so she thought.

You had been dating for two long years, and it wasn't like some perfect relationship anyone could say was flawless. Ellie only found that to make you more lovely to her poor heart. She couldn't comprehend how someone could have flaws and her own body indulge in those like she was ravaged from thirst and needed you in every way, shape, and form. She needed your sensitivity, your lack of common sense in pressuring situations, and your clinginess. And somehow, your response to the behavior only put her obsession into a magnifying glass.

Ellie's constant flashbacks will never just be of Joel, as bad as those are. No, it's a mix of yearning and grief.

She'll remember the way your lips parted late into the night when she'd place her warm fingertip to your bottom lip, pressing down and sliding the flesh against your tongue in a way that made her belly clench with an undeniable need to take every bit of your soul away and keep it for herself. Even now, mentally separated from you in her current state of life, she would never get tired of you. You were far too vast, like an ocean and she could not bear to be handed a life jacket.

Being so in love can be such a beautiful blessing. Before Joel, she often returned home from her hunting trips to your presence and while days were undeniably tough, you were always a soothing balm that coated her soul twice-over.

Being in love can also make you want to tear apart the world brick by brick, branch by branch.

Ellie couldn't afford to love after Joel died. She swore it off. There was no immediate shut-down in which she broke up with you and isolated herself. It was more like a slow withdrawal from the life she once felt even an ounce of comfort from. She stopped eating your home-made meals and opted to a beer to tide her. Slowly, it became the stronger liquids. Nights that used to be spent well-rested curled up against you turned into late-night hunting trips that she came back from and collapsed onto the cold couch, regardless of you waiting for her in bed.

Ellie knew her behavior was unfair, and you deserved the fucking world, if not a loving partner. But she couldn't be that for you. You were just so beautiful and sweet, she hated imagining you in place of Joel or beside him, a grave complete with fast-fading flowers and that name she loved to say engraved into the stone. Imagining you bitten was even worse. She wanted to keep you all to herself, lock you inside the home just to know you'll always live. But when she was paranoid with thoughts of illness. There was no key to unlocking the doors of death as it hit all mortals. There was only acceptance, and that was a feeling unplaced in her life after such wretched, unfair acts had caused her to lose the one person who willingly raised her into a semi-okay human being.

There was no proper apology she could give you for the snappy words. There was no hug that followed, and no softness in her gaze when her feelings would implode onto you, coating your sensitive feelings with her own pain; Ellie began to hate herself, and yet the cycle was never going to end, it seemed.

-

You always loved Ellie with every ounce of heart you had, which was a lot. You weren't the angel she made you out to be. You only wanted to feel loved when you took a chance into giving her your heart.

But by God, you fell face-first into the heap of mess named Ellie.

She haunted you just as you did her; her auburn locks that so messily beautiful, even the inevitable loose strands were like pieces of perfection carved into one singular person. Her face was molded by emotions you always struggled to read and yet fantasized about her informing you of, and her skin was tainted with freckles that ate away at the apples of her cheeks. By any means was she flawless, either. Enough said of the endless list that made you fall for her so strongly.

Living with her was once a treasure you thought was too good to be true, like some conditions came with it. It wasn't until after everything happened that the reality of the harsh world hit you and refused to make Ellie see how much you wanted to be there for her.

Most people would believe comforting someone in a time of loss would be the right thing to do. You felt this natural instinct watching the light fade from Ellie's face the day after Joel's soul left the Earth. You'd never wanted to save her so badly from her own obsession with intense loss, yet she didn't even give you the chance to. Stuck was the love that you wanted to feel her release onto you, like a key voluntarily jammed in a lock. You watched her destructive behaviors and your tears were nightly shed. You wanted to feel her love again, and to be reminded that she still had those obsessive needs entailing your presence, but the reassurance never came. The nights got longer and the bed, cold.

-

The cold winter breeze blew over the Wyoming farm. Grass was mainly dead, frigid flakes of snow beginning to coat the ground. The sheep were all cozy in the barn that you herded them into. These past few months, you had a habit of doing most of the work around the farm and the house. It was a necessary habit, because Ellie wasn't in any condition to do the work; she was either drunk, asleep, silent, or out hunting. However, even the contributions made in the form of game were lacking. Most days, it was small rabbits or squirrels. You could tell she was beating herself up over that too, behind the lack-luster eyes.

Your hands reached over for the pie dough, weaving through threads of the material. Your hands always seemed to twitch slightly these days, but it was usually cold in the house, making for a reasonable explanation. More than anything, you wanted to pretend all was well.

Baking was always something you loved to do when things got tough. Before you even knew Ellie, you'd spend your time frosting cupcakes or shoveling a tray of brownie batter into the oven. Now, you were just reminded of how many times Ellie had come into the kitchen to steal one of your creations and kiss your cheek. You longed for the way it was so easy with her at one point in your lives.

Still, you placed the pie into the oven and waited. You waited with the silence, pacing around restlessly. Ellie was in the bedroom, probably buried under the blankets, but not asleep. You wanted to give her something to come out for.

30 minutes later, the timer went off. No sign of Ellie. You sighed and with mitts, took the apple lie out. It had the scent of cinnamon tainting it, an aroma that used to be Ellie's favorite. Still, you didn't want to give up. You carefully placed the pie onto the counter and slowly headed for the bedroom, opening the door as quietly as possible.

"Ellie?" You called out, making sure to be gentle with your tone. Anything could set her off, and even a frown was something you wanted to avoid.

Ellie muttered out a soft respond, mostly incomprehensible.

You sighed and leaned against the doorframe. "I made your favorite pie. You want a slice?"

"Don't feel like getting up," she mumbled.

You frowned slightly at that, but something in you wanted to still push. Gently push. "You can have a slice in bed, I'll bring you-"

You were cut off.

"Just go, okay? I don't want the damn pie."

Followed by a soft sigh from underneath the blankets, and a bit of shuffling.

"I'm sorry..just go, please. Put the leftovers in the fridge or whatever."

Your heart sank a bit, and you hated getting snapped at. Still, you loved her. Sometimes, you endured some fucked up things for love.

You closed the door behind you.

-

Winter season was one of your least favorites of the seasonal climates. Summer was much nicer, you thought. Beautiful rays of sunshine that painted the grass with greenery. Hours spent in the creek a mile from the farmhouse turned into your eyes flickering down into the icy surface, thoughts muddled with Ellie. You hoped she would break soon.

Today, you woke up and went on with your usual morning routine. You made breakfast, and you made sure to leave leftovers in the fridge for Ellie, even though she had already left for another hunt, without a word, of course. You spent the first quarter of the day doing chores and enduring the cold to take care of the livestock. Once done, you felt restless. You wanted to do something, but you didn't know what. Life felt so boring these days, and you wanted to break away from the routine you and Ellie found yourselves in. So you decided to do something special in hopes she'd appreciate you.

-

When Ellie came home from her hunting trip, she opened the door and was floored.

The kitchen table had centralized candles, warm soft glow emitting and adding light to the rather dim room. It was a heat that used to exist between the two of you and lingered like a smoke filling a car, a car Ellie intended to escape from. There was a new cloth laid out, and on top of it were two glasses of red wine and two plates of spaghetti, truly one of Ellie's favorite meals, or was one of her favorites. However, she lastly noticed you standing beside it all with a nervous but hopeful upturn in your lips.

You looked fucking gorgeous.

Ellie always admired your style, even back in Jackson. It was clear that you sometimes wandered off during patrol in search of some pieces to bring back to your closet. She used to find it extremely endearing, teasing you over some claw clip in your hair or a new skirt you found in an abandoned home's master bedroom.

Now, standing in front of her, your hair was up and loose strands fell like a stream from a waterfall, all chaotic and natural but there was much intent behind it. Your lips were an exaggerated rosy pink, and they were slight parted like two delicate, plush petals. They looked like the petals of a pretty tulip picked straight from a meadow, only being the most perfect flower of all. If she had seen you months ago, she would've had the cosmetic substance coating your lips smudged over your pretty face. Now, she could only brush past it as her eyes flickered down to the satin dress hugging your body in ways she'd only seen when you were naked.

"I'm not doing this with you," She stated, trying to sound monotonous but ultimately failing, "I can't do this tonight."

"Ellie, sit down. Just eat with me, please." You gestured to the chairs, vulnerability still written all over your pretty face and signed on your trembling lips.

"I'm not hungry."

"You know that's not true. You skipped breakfast this morning and probably lunch." You knew you were pushing it, but you were at your limit with the way things were going. You knew she was struggling, that no dinner could heal her, but you still wanted to at least make a start.

That's when she doubled down.

"Because I'm not fucking hungry. I'm going to watch tv now." She walked right past the table and when you reached out to grab her, your grip a bit too clingy. She turned around, and the irritation that used to be subtle boiled over.

It used to be subtle, at least. There were always recent moments in which her agitated moods doubled into more, something that bordered the anger that she contained towards Joel's killers. Now, she can't help it; it leaks out through her voice, the tone that you've now grown to hate. You wonder how much you can stand, but she'll be sure to show you.

Her hands gripped at the kitchen table, pushing it away and sending the glasses of wine to be shattered into glass shards spread all over the tiled floor; a quite accurate representation of what seemed to be happening inside of you at the moment. The plates hit the ground as well, and there was a mess that joined the red liquid staining the floor you mopped hours ago.

Everything was a fucking mess.

You stared at her in silence. Ellie stared back, but not meeting your eyes. She wasn't making a move to leave you alone in the kitchen, though, as if she wanted to see your reaction. She wanted to see if you'd given up on her so she wouldn't have to worry about you leaving her like Joel did.

"Why'd you do that?" You spoke, and you sounded so hurt, so done. It sent a pain through Ellie's chest; she had never witnessed such hopelessness from you.

Always so sweet and carefree, as if you were oblivious to the world around you, to all of the death and violence that followed human kind. Ellie used to need that behavior from you because you would provide her with a beacon of light that she wasn't able to be herself. However, now, that beacon felt ever-blinding. She felt the need to drop the lantern that was your hope onto the floor, even if it shattered her in the process.

Silence followed.

You didn't question her again. You simply grabbed a kitchen towel, knees falling to the floor as you began to rub at the spilled wine. It wasn't like how you had cleaned earlier, not like it was something you focused on to forget Ellie's negligence. Now, it was like you were on the midst of reaching your lowest point in life. Fuck, now that made Ellie feel really, really guilty.

Tears were patching up your vision, making it hard to see. Streams of salty moisture was now visible on your cheeks, hands shaking as you frantically tried to gather up pieces of glass without a thought to what it'd feel like to hurt yourself with a shard brushing up against your skin.

Ellie tried to reason that she should scurry off upstairs to leave you alone without a second thought, but her mouth was speaking before she could process what she was saying.

"I know it's not your fault. It's all mine." She sounded, for the first time, like she cared.

You gazed up at her through tear-clouded eyes. You should've probably kicked her out for the night, told her to go back to Jackson and crash on Jesse's couch. Something deep within you, something foolish and perhaps even blind, stopped you.

"Just..head to bed, okay? Go to bed, and I'll get this all cleaned up." You mumbled quietly, and the lack of hope or effort to appease her didn't go unnoticed by Ellie. She could tell you were about to really be done with her.

This would be the first night she would be sleeping in your shared bed. She probably would've protested, but all the fight contained within her to push you away was released. Ellie only nodded and her footsteps faded as she left the kitchen.

Cleaning vigorously only helped distract you from the racing in your chest just a bit.

You used to believe that Ellie was confidently obsessed with you. Her heart used to seem so yearning for you and her hands, those needy hands would always seek you out. Now, you felt as one-sided as this had started. Nothing could completely wipe away the pain of feeling unwanted, no amount of scrubbing away the wine or sweeping up glass. Nothing could ever be the same, you were starting to believe.

The kitchen floor was shiny now, but you felt like a train-wreck inside. You longed for life to feel easier, even with the struggles you were forced to endure. It's much harder to face those alone, and it's especially hard when the person you're losing is slipping away on their own and not by the grim reaper's grasp. Your hands grasped at the table for support as you lifted yourself up off of the ground after scrubbing away the mess completely, and you slowly entered the bedroom.

Ellie wasn't buried underneath the blankets. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, and you could tell she was waiting for you to be done cleaning. You felt uneasy in your stomach, and all you wanted was for her to finally speak. But she was silent until the words that made your face pale left her chapped lips.

"I have to leave."

"...what?" You wanted to put up a fight. You wished you had it in you to scream and yell at her, to beg and plead for her to stay, but she'd completely drained your once rose-tinted cheeks of power. She held a grasp over you and intended to squeeze.

She finally looked at you. "I have to kill them, and then maybe I can come back to you and be who you need me to be."

She was truly demented now, you thought to yourself. Your fingers were twitching, fidgeting with the end of your sleeve. She had the audacity to speak again.

"I can get revenge and maybe then, I can-"

"Just go. I'm done pretending like I want this. I feel like I'm living with a damn ghost, Ellie." You couldn't take it anymore: the one-sided fights, the one-sided feelings, the constant distance and sleepless nights. At this point, you weren't sure if you wanted her to return. She looked surprised that you had agreed so easily, though, and it left her feeling even worse because Ellie could tell that you just simply gave up.

"Alright, then. I promise I'll be back. I promise I still love you. I'm so sorry." She stood up slowly and her hands cupped your face. You made no move to lean into her touch or to push her away, only silently appreciate her warmth, even though your mind was telling you she probably wouldn't be coming back.

She leaned in, her warm breath on your cheek, and pressed two plush lips to it. You let out a breath of your own and closed your eyes. Footsteps rang in your head louder than her boots realistically were.

When your eyes opened, she was gone.

_

Spring followed suit of the bitter winter.

The trees that were once devoid of life sprouted new potential, and the creek stream flowed ever-the-same. Little white flowers with their pure petals sprouted in your yard, and the sheep seemed to be more content with the grassy utopia grown throughout the yard now that the cold was behind it.

Overall, the atmosphere was lighter and swept clean of a hopeless, frigid ache. It had been approximately four months since Ellie left.

The first and second month was the hardest. You wondered how someone could just leave the person they claim to love the hardest in their life. You thought that the pain would be never-ending, but you were always changing, just like the seasons. Just not in chronological order, only through cycles that couldn't end.

Even after four months, sometimes you thought of her. You wondered if she was gone from the Earth, her body left to be feasted upon by infected or if she was on some dirty floor with a bullet in her head. You wouldn't be surprised; the girl had too much bravado, and she'd be sure to get herself killed that way. She couldn't suck it up, even to the one behind the gun. Still, the ache in your chest was lightening.

You felt guilty to think that you were moving on. She could actually come back, and she'd be needing you more than anything. She could walk through that wooden door at any minute and grovel over the months she hurt you.

You were starting to wonder if you could bear to take her back. The chores were easier than ever, though, now that you didn't feel the tense grief looming in the air. The house was empty, and you were completely alone, and somehow not as lonely as you could imagine.

However, late at night, you would dwell on what Ellie would do if she were here, and if the grief she carried would've been passed like it should've been. You could somehow feel the way her breath would tickle your neck and she'd trace her chapped but soft lips over your skin like she was tending to more than just some girl. Like you were her goddess, and that was how things once were. You could still smell her everywhere in your bed, the scent of sweat mixed in with Earth. It always lingered and the memories of her ghost touches seemed to hit you like a flash bang.

Those nights grew less and less frequent, however.

_

Summer nights were spent in the old house you inhabited in Jackson.

The farmhouse was much too spacious for one person, so after much consideration, you returned to the settlement.

You were welcomed with warm, open arms. You desperately missed your friend, Dina, and how she matched your spirits. You spent the summer going to parties and bonfires, staying over at Dina's house and smoking the occasional weed. Your once quiet lifestyle turned into what it once was, maybe even better. Nights became filled with the sound of your crackled laughter, and Dina sporting up some joke that Jesse would roll his eyes at watching you topple over, clutching at your stomach as if it were the peak of comedy.

Your house felt warm and filled with new emotions; it was like the once pale, neutral undertones were painted over with a layer of bright, fresh paint. Still, the cracks in the walls of your soul would remain at times.

Always did the freckled face, the auburn tufts of hair, and the wide eyes follow you, though. After a while, it all seemed to fade away, like a bath bomb in water. You pulled the drain out and you believed that you closed the chapter on Ellie's presence in your life.

It was then, on a late July day, that she returned.

[hello-vampire-kitty]

Servamp chapter 148 spoilers

"It feels like..I'm breaking...His soul is screaming...Crying out your name."

I screamed as well when I saw that Tsurugi is in there!

That's what I hoped for. I couldn't accept that he was truly dead in spite of what happed to his body!

He heard Touma's name being called out and that made him wake up!

If Mikuni let him live because he thought that he'll not pose a threat if Germaine-the creator of Servamps, who is supposed to be stronger than anyone, takes over his body, well...he underestimated my boy.

Touma: "Let's go home, Tsurugi." Tsurugi: "Tai-chan..!"

Upon hearing his name being called out by Touma, Tsurugi managed to break free from Germaine's control. Like I mentioned previously, Tsurugi must have been underestimated.

Recall what he said in chapter 67.

My boy 😭 It made me happy seeing that he managed to expel Germaine and I that he will be alright, but Tanaka-sensei was like, "Yeah about that..."

AAAHH! I'm devastated! There's only one more chapter left...Could there still be hope for him to come back?

Note that I haven't properly read the lines, as in I haven't looked up all the words, but from what I understand, Touma explained to Mahiru that Iori created a save state of the world, a precaution against damage in a decisive battle and Mahiru asks if he means that day when Tsubaki showed up at the hospital (ch 84).

According to this chapter, when Iori 'died', which by the way, his act was referred to as 'suicide by magic' he actually put himself in suspended animation and inserted himself as a 'bookmark' in the timeline and he acted as a guidepost to correct the timeline.

Yeah, so it's impressive. I think most of us believed, especially given the previous chapter that Mahiru and Kuro will be the one to defeat Mikuni. I also thought there will be a confrontation with Germaine, like I was expecting that he will be the final boss.

Alright, so, maybe after I read the chapter probably it will be clear, but Mahiru asks if it's possible to go back to that moment in time, (the period from when Tsubaki showed up at the hospital), but Touma says there's not enough to pay the price to go that far in time, however Touma says that he wouldn't mind paying a price 'to pull a life from the bookmark'.

So...he wants to bring Tsurugi back by exchanging his life, however, Mahiru mentions that he died once before and he's suggesting to exchange his life.

Note how he trails off at the end. I'm expecting that he will be cut off by someone, most likely Kuro who will give him a lecture.

Don't let your mother's sacrifice be in vain, Mahiru! :(

Kuro and your friends won't let you sacrifice yourself so easily

The last thing I want to talk about is the possibility that maybe there won't be sacrifices, because there will be drama CD which has a track titled "Re：One morning, when I woke up". (title of chapter 80).

Because it has 'Re' in the title, which stands for 'restart', 'redo', 'repeat' etc, it could mean that the scenario might be about returning to that period in chapter 80.

That chapter opened with Tsurugi waking up at the hospital after the incident at C3.

Although it's the same title as the chapter, maybe it doesn't mean going back to that time, but rather it's tied to the imagery. What I'm trying to say is that, the scenario of the drama might begin with Tsurugi waking up, like in chapter 80.

We only have once chapter left...Tanaka please, my baby has to meet his grandpuppy Gear and no one should sacrifice themselves!

[papiliovolens]

Spoilers for up to Ch. 20

This drabble was written as an exploration for Nightmare's motives for Ch. 25, so it will have some hints as to how he will act.

it also hints at more multiversal mechanics going on in the background of everything

This is a glimpse at his interpretation and first impressions of Classic, courtesy of an evil overlord who thinks he knows everything :)

this also became a lot longer than i was expecting, so enjoy 1000 words of nightmare being nightmare

The multiverse was nothing if not predictable.

Regardless of its infinite multitudes, it followed specific patterns. Universes fed off nearby ones to fuel their creativity, forming clusters whose links became jumbled in a heated mess of wired connections. The universes' influences on each other were palpable.

Ultimately, universes could dissolve into basic templates through which each spread its roots into the larger multiverse to cement a place for itself. Thus, despite the multiverse's infinitude, it lacked any carbon copies.

It seemed everyone had a different idea as to why.

So, Nightmare relied on the patterns in each universe- how, regardless of their separation from other universes or how out-of-place they seemed, they acted in predictable manners. It made most missions comically easy once Nightmare conducted a little research. The current state of affairs between monsterkind and humanity, the existence and status of the Underground, and the presence of resets told him all he needed to know.

Even Dream's responses had become expected, although that was more due to his inherent benevolence than anything else.

So, yes- the multiverse was predictable to a reliable degree.

- Until a week ago.

Nightmare planned his missions meticulously. They did not fail. Perhaps delayed, and he occasionally needed to iron out minor kinks, but outright failure was never a factor.

The fact that Dream happened to be in the universe Nightmare chose that day was unfortunate, but it was an easy fix. He sent his men to the Capital with a single order, causing enough panic to draw Dream's attention away, and his plan was back on track.

It worked flawlessly for all of about ten minutes.

Nightmare's goal had been simple. Investigate one of the negativity spikes that plagued the multiverse as of late- the same that had Dream floundering like a fish out of water. For all his supposed wisdom, Dream had failed to realize that the emotional spikes were not the result of any 'affliction' or 'sickness' as he seemed to believe.

So when the spike Nightmare was tracking vanished completely, he had nearly gone into a frenzy, and Dream, unfortunately, sensed his sudden anger. His brother came like a moth to a flame, and Nightmare was happy to turn his frustration to his pathetic brother.

The battle had been going as he expected. The arrival of a Sans was slightly unexpected but hadn't even made a blip on his radar. He begrudingly gave the monster a bit of respect at how they managed to get Dream away from his for a few seconds, but it was child's play to find them and send the Sans off to the pits of whatever hell awaited him.

Oh, the way Dream's face had fallen felt heavenly. His face crumpled like Nightmare had not witnessed in decades, and- yes, he wanted to take a picture to make the moment last forever. The way Dream shook, his frown, the tears brimming at the corners of his sockets, the way his face twisted with the hopelessness Nightmare had always dreamed of-

And then the Sans, whose soul Nightmare had just shattered, threw a bone at his skull.

Nightmare was not ignorant of resets, but the situation screamed foul play. It had been nowhere near enough time for a reset or load to occur, especially since the Sans was from a different universe entirely.

Nightmare could not deny his interest as the Sans reentered the battle and somehow dodged him at every turn. Yes, skeletons tended to have a high tenacity for dodging, but few could bear to stand so close to his aura without collapsing.

Nightmare's memories toward the end of the battle were fuzzy. He remembered his brother finally releasing his fragile hold on his aura, enveloping the forest in its sickly sweet tones. Nightmare responded in kind- flooding the air with negativity to choke Dream out.

Then the Sans, somehow still standing despite the clash in auras, dared to grab him, and then-

Nothing.

Nightmare had not slept in a millennia.

He would have thought the same nightmares he inflicted on others on an hourly basis would fill his dreams, but his sleep was oddly peaceful. No demons nor haunting visages visited him, and he idled in the darkness of his mind for what felt like days.

The multiverse was meant to be predictable. It moved in expected and flawed ways, but ways that could be measured and recorded for future reference.

This Sans was an oddity—an anomaly. A strange mystery in a multiverse Nightmare had already scavenged for everything of interest to him.

There was no record of this Sans, Classic, anywhere until a month prior. It seemed he had fallen into the multiverse out of, quite literally, nowhere. While a universe suddenly gaining access to the rest of the multiverse was expected, what was not was the extent Classic had spread his influence in such a short time.

With Ccino's report, Nightmare wasted little time reaching out to the destroyer and protector. Error had appeared particularly peeved when Nightmare reached out to him, dismissing him until Nightmare uttered Classic's name. The destroyer had gone quite still, seeming to hover threateningly near a crash at the name alone, and a wave of nostalgia flowed over him.

It was a plethora of information Nightmare had not been expecting, and he happily bid Error farewell when he recovered enough to threaten to decapitate him.

Ink, on the other hand, was a dead-end. Getting him to talk was easy enough, but he hardly reacted to Nightmare's probing about Classic, stuck with that annoying blank look on his face. Ink only muttered something about a metal chair, blinked at him, and then greeted him with a child's enthusiasm.

And, of course, there was his brother. From his and Classic's interactions on that day alone, it was not difficult for Nightmare to glean the burgeoning friendship between the two, and the expression that crossed Dream's face at Classic's fake death began to make more sense.

It seemed Classic had undergone a rather unconventional introduction into the multiverse. The more Nightmare heard, the higher Classic raised on his list of utter buffoons.

It was strange. Unexpected. Exciting.

Nightmare had not faced a new mystery in centuries. His studies were his first venture into the multiverse outside of spreading negativity, and it had successfully occupied him for most of his existence. But then things got predictable. Nightmare found that, with enough time, any question at all got boring quickly.

Classic presented a new project with novel results.

And Nightmare was very, very curious.

[coldswarkids]

just saw someone saying something along the lines of ‘oh lesson planning was so easy! ❤️ the curriculum is already so perfectly laid out for you!’

AHDUWNDJAJFBSJJFHFHDHSJJDKSKD in the THREE schools I taught at, one a title school, one a private posh institution, and one public school, NONE of those schools had jack shit for curriculum.

I spent my entire time reworking and adjusting whatever shitty material was there to conform to my students needs and also the state standards. if you’re teaching well then sometimes needs will change and you can’t just complacently plug and play and expect maximum results. I say this as someone whose students consistently achieved well above average growth per national standards all the years I taught.

my longest tenure, I had to develop the whole ass curriculum my self. like I was building it and teaching it at the SAME TIME. and even after that was established, I was continually adjusting it. I would love to live in a world where apparently it’s So Easy. but that’s not what happened

I so often think that I’m weak emotionally, to not have been able to maintain my mental health and sanity as a teacher. like I KNOW I was good at it and I was well beloved. I built relationships and I was a trusted adult who made a real change both academically and holistically.

but I just could NOT take the crushing pressure and soul sucking drain of endless administration fuckups, clueless demanding parents who constantly breathed down my neck about tiny stupid details and yet refused to contribute meaningfully to their child’s emotional or academic growth in any way.

I had no personal time and a stunted social life. I gave away 7 years of my youth and while I miss my students every day, I felt like I was being subsumed by my work. I’d be so fulfilled in my work and at the same time dreaming about yanking the wheel on my daily drive, day in and day out, ending the exhaustion, the deep sadness, the endless time drains that prevented me from doing things that made me happy and kept me alive. i really feel like I sacrificed those 7 years on the martyrs altar of feeling like I Made A Difference, being there for The Kids. It wasn’t sustainable for me, and I know others can do it and excel. I just wasn’t made for it

[summonerj]

You know those posts about Danny owning John Constantine’s soul for one reason or another, why just Constantine, why not have several people in the Justice League somehow in debt because of something or someone in their past; like someone’s mom selling their first born; or a stupid dare they did in their childhood; maybe someone asking for protection for their children in their last breath; maybe they got caught up in a ritual; maybe an old generational curse; or an old enemy

somehow this happens to the vast majority of heroes, villains, vigilantes, anti-heroes and supernatural. The only person confirmed to not be indebted to the Ghost King by the Ghost King himself is Batman

[cfffrk]

TW// D**D BODY, PUTREFACTION

the ONE fanfic that shouldn't be named

(The first picture – censored version)

The poor man did not accept the accident to the last. His once mighty mind, like a layer of eternal frozen ice, had at all times kept him firmly on the surface of sanity. It took about a week for the calm in his soul to change to a storm, and those miles and miles of permafrost to melt away and leave only a thin slippery ice flake, the last thing that kept him from sinking into the dark raging waters of madness. He clung as hard as he could, though the cold water was already washing over the top of his head. The wave hit. The ice cracked...

and darkness fell.

(all coincidences with actors from the show are coincidental)

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Just saw this comment on a story posted a month ago.

*cries in Eddie Munson Solo Series no one wanted to read, interact with or request for*

No shade to the person that commented this on their own fic if you recognize it. It's not their fault. I'm not mad at them. More crying in the tags.

[winnie-the-monster]

The more and more I think about it, the more tragic Landons story actually becomes. 😭😭😭 and I just want Landon back so badly. So he can get a better story and a chance at happiness.

[arts-i-enjoy]

Something I've noticed from subbing to just a couple of very small patreons (like fewer than 50 members) is how SHY people are about talking to the creator that they are paying! What's up with that? I wonder if it's because most of these patrons come via tumblr, where there is the culture of talking in the tags/reblogs and comments being your "outdoor voice"/basically it being RUDE to talk to people.

I think that's fucked up, especially in the context of artists (just to be clear every time I say artists that is inclusive of writers). Like these are people that are making a thing and showing it to you, they don't just want silent nods of approval by way of reblogs/likes. They want FEEDBACK. They want CONNECTION. I think a fundamental part of creating and sharing art is the goal of connection. And I don't think people realize how truly disheartening it is to post something and then get completely silent likes/reblogs.

For the love of God they are TALKING TO YOU. TALK BACK!!!!

[axolotlclown]

Cosmetic surgeons are often partnered with hospitals so ofc people can get top surgery at hospitals why are you spreading misinfo about a surgery thats already hard to get.

??? This actually might be a miscommunication about location and intention. Hospitals do not offer top surgery in my part of the US. There was one hospital that did, but that hospital had to drop its gender affirming care or risk losing funding from the state. I only offered my experiences with the process of getting a top surgery as prompted by the poll (I assume you came from). In my experience, and the experiences of the transgender people in this area, the big road block to top surgery is the price rather than finding quality surgeons. I believe, at least in the US, that is a common concern. It was one thing I wish I knew before starting the process. It is expensive and insurance never covers it. I'm not sure where you're from—maybe these surgeries are possible to get in hospitals. where I'm from, elective surgeries are not commonly done in hospitals at all.

I apologize for the miscommunication, but I assure you that I am not intentionally spreading misinformation, but rather sharing advice from my experiences. I hope all is well.

[retiredteabag]

The soul does not lie

synopsis: Sukuna allows tedious nonsense when he can feel your soul's cravings.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Though he hardly mentions it, Sukuna can, in fact, feel your soul in a way that a normal sorcerer never could. Knowing this helps to make sense of the fact that the man can always tell when you are distressed, even when you try to hide it.

You had discovered this little ability of his when he had come stomping in from the gardens one day while you watched unblinkingly at a horror film.

With your eyes only visible through the slots of your fingers you looked up to see him standing, arms crossed, in the entry way of his chambers.

"What is it that brings you fear?" He had thundered.

"W-what... no, nothing, I'm just watching a movie, see?" You flipped your phone around for the man too see but he did not take his eyes off your form.

"I do not repeat myself." His four eyes were squinted and his eyebrows arched in a dangerously attractive way.

"Kuna' it's a horror movie, that's all, I'm not really scared." You finally announced to the rolling of four red eyes.

"Your soul states otherwise." He quipped before drawing close to try and see what had your soul trembling so fearfully. He was disappointed, to say the least when he was unable to identify what was so "horrific" about your film.

And that marked the moment you realized that Sukuna was able to feel you in a way you could not understand.

Sukuna was NOT a gentleman, he was far, far from it. He loved to bring terror to the masses, very rarely did he allow another beings to so much as speak in his presence. He did, however, have "soft spots" for creatures that sparked his interest, and those remarkably loyal.

Even so, he did not make efforts to calm your nerves when you were anxious. He did not feel the slightest effect in his chest when your sorrow was palpable. He would certainly not allow for time to be wasted on your souls quivering's. That-was none of his concern.

It was not as if he was taking any actions when he allowed your pathetic "cuddling" nonsense when he felt the pangs of misery that surrounded your essence.

You had tried to hold him in the past but he did not see the use in wrapping oneself around another. Even so, he found himself pretending to sleep (even though he did not need it) when he sensed your desperation for his touch.

Likewise, when he could feel the shaky and childish excitement that bled from your soul when you were happy, he could not seem to help but humor you.

As mentioned, Sukuna does not require sleep like your helpless human form. Still, it was not uncommon for the king of curses to close his eyes, relaxing in his ultimate power. Be it when he bathes, when he is lounging on his palace's engawa, when he is seated on his throne, or even when he reclines himself along his chamber's bed.

Sukuna had his eyes closed one evening, feeling his power splay out from his body, grasping at the forms of everyone within his domain. When he sensed your spirit, quickly approaching his chambers.

He made the decision then to seem uninterested when you clambered through the doors.

He could hear the switch in your step as you drew in a breath, clearly forgetting what you had wished to say at the sudden image before you.

The bloodthirsty man had never looked more like a jungle cat, lying atop his bed in such a lazy fashion. He felt the exact moment your soul leapt. He knew you had covered your mouth as your heavy breathing had dulled despite your heartbeat climbing to unusual heights.

He knew of your antics. Having felt you chew on each of his biceps several times. You had that same giddiness now. It was simply that he did not care to move that he kept his eyes closed. Pretending not to notice as you took out your phone, your feet dancing around him. He'll allow you to take your ridiculous photos, he's too... relaxed... to... take issue with your senseless mischief.

He could tell you had finished when he heard you pocket your phone once more, your hands covering your beating heart, you leaned down, holding your breath. The king of curses had to keep himself from squishing his face in ....disgust.... as you planted a chaste kiss in the space between his lower eye and his upper lip.

"You're too precious." You quietly whisper. Brushing your hand softly through his hair. And Sukuna rolled his eyes behind his lids.

Such foolishness he has never seen. Even so- he will allow it.

[sleepymarimo]

𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕣!

summary: the first time you make their heart skip a beat, w/ monster trio + law! pairing(s): luffy x gn!reader, zoro x gn!reader, sanji x gn!reader, law x gn!reader cw: none! an: ahhhh idk how to feel about this one but i hope you enjoy :') 👐

luffy

there are a lot of things that get luffy's heart racing.

a good meal. a cool looking fish. a killer party. all of it makes this captain happy, because he revels in the adventure. he lives for the moment. he feels deeply and strongly, a trait that acts as a double edged sword.

like now, as a torrent of anger and worry swirl in his chest and weigh him down. he's running through some dense woods, bursting through trees and falling down hills, a look of determination on his face.

an enemy had managed to sneak up on the crew.

what's worse? they ran off. with you.

luffy doesn't think twice. he pushes through anything in his way for the sake of finding you before things got too rough. as he runs, he finds the enemy's actions cowardly. someone using you to draw him out makes him irritate. he doesn't care if he's falling into some trap; he'd deal with whatever was put in front of him so long as he could rescue you.

he's worried for your well being, of course he is. even though he can't see you, he can feel you. his observation haki lets him know how frightened you are, a fact that makes him all the more angry.

then finally, in the distance, he catches sight of you.

you're in a clearing, the enemy looming over you. they're raising a weapon in your direction, much too close.

luffy feels his blood boil. he grabs ahold of some trees, running backwards and preparing to launch himself in your direction as fast as he can. his rubber arms grow taut as he stretches, his mind set on rescuing you.

an annoyed huff leaves him when he hears the enemy taunting you, threatening your life and mocking your ambitions. it has luffy's anger rising, because there was no way he'd let your dreams get made fun of. by anyone.

his thoughts become hazy, his strong feelings taking hold of his actions.

then, luffy hears it. it's like a melody, absolute music to his ears.

your laugh.

ba-dum! ba-dum!

his head clears.

he can feel a big smile curling at his lips. his grin is all teeth, his eyes shining with equal parts pride and mischief. it's like a fire has been lit in his soul, like he's a toy that's just been wound up to the max.

even in your current predicament, even when you're utterly terrified, you have faith in yourself. in him.

if you can laugh, then so can he.

finally, he yells out his signature move, launching himself at the enemy and landing a punch so hard that it makes the air itself tremble.

"luffy!" you call with some tears prickling in your eyes, your limbs still shaky from the adrenaline. your smile falters at the edges, relief flooding your body. "you made it!"

your captain comes to life upon seeing your smile up close, his heart beating like a drum. his rubber arms wrap around you and he squeezes you to his chest, his laughter ringing in your ears.

"of course i did!" he grins, grabbing you by the hand and urging you to run with him to the ship. his grip on you is tight and secure. glancing back at you, he can't help but feel grateful to have you with him on this journey.

he snickers, letting emotion run through him without restriction. "you made my heart feel funny!"

zoro

after another victory, the straw hat pirates found themselves reveling in drinks, food and company.

for a while, the swordsman finds himself amidst the other heavy drinkers. he grins and knocks back bottle after bottle, content with listening to the animated conversations around him and observing the party.

eventually though, he craves some solitude. and so, he heads off towards a less occupied area where he can drink in peace.

he basks in isolation, until you manage to find your way to him. a big grin is on your face and he can't help but reciprocate with a small smirk when he notices your inebriated state. unceremoniously, you plop down next to him at a respectable distance.

“hey zo', gimme some!” you nod towards the large bottle he holds, completely immersed in the light, upbeat atmosphere. one of your hands even reaches out, making a sort of grabbing motion.

he possessively tightens his grip on the bottle, his expression hardening slightly as his brows furrowed. "hah? this is mine, go grab your own bottle."

"i don't wanna full drink, jus' need a little more and i'll be good." you answer, well aware of your limits. your tone becomes pleading as you look up at him with puppy dog eyes. "one sip. please?"

with a groan, he relents. he grumbles something about you being lucky that he's in such a good mood, before extending the bottle in your direction.

yet, it appears that you have some more tricks up your sleeve.

instead of grabbing the bottle, you simply tilt your head back and let your mouth hang open. you make an 'ah' sound, waiting for him to bestow you with the gift of alcohol.

he's a little taken aback at first. seriously? you wanted him to pour it for you? ugh, fine...

he rolls his eye and uses his free hand to firmly hold your jaw steady and open, bringing the bottle up and pouring the sake into your mouth.

your hand rests on his, your fingers absentmindedly tracing over his knuckles.

it's all fine at first, until his eyes lock with yours. in that moment, he seems to acknowledge the intimacy of the act, something primal stirring in his gut as he looked down at you. his cheeks redden.

ba-dum! ba-dum!

his muscles tense and he goes almost still. he gets so distracted that his hand moves upwards, effectively drowning your face with sake. your head snaps back into its natural position and you start to cough, the alcohol burning your nostrils.

you give the swordsman an incredulous look, wiping the excess sake from your face. “what the hell was that for?”

“you’re the one that moved!” he sharply replies, even though he knows damn well that you were sitting good and still for him.

focusing inward, he seems pleased to feel that his heart is once again thumping steadily. unwavering. what an odd feeling it was, to have his strong heart skip a beat.

i'll deal with that later. he thinks, not at all wanting to open that can of worms.

so, he takes another swig from the bottle and uses one of his large hands to pat you on the back as you continued to cough up sake.

“oi, don’t waste good booze.”

sanji

the cook wasn't used to being spoiled. he's always been a giver, someone who provides and never takes.

he basked in the smiles that formed on the faces of his crew mates, his family, whenever he made them a good meal or protected them. he never asks for anything in return. however, that doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t be shown appreciation every now and then.

currently, he's on night watch.

a thick blanket is wrapped around his shoulders, the cold wind nipping at his cheeks and painting them a reddish color. a cigarette hangs from his lips, his breaths coming out as white puffs against the dark sky.

out of the corner of his eye, he can see light pouring out from the kitchen window. how long has that been on? his brows furrow in suspicion as he makes his way over, half-expecting to see luffy attempting to crack open the pantry.

yet when he opens the door, his posture immediately relaxes and he practically melts as he sees you. you're in your pajamas, hunched over the stove with a focused expression. he takes note of the cookbook laid out on the counter, guiding you as you prepared a dish.

he calls your name, his limbs turning to mush as he approached you. "what are you doing here so late? if you're hungry, i'll make you some-"

his nose twitches as he catches the scent of what you're making.

he knows it well because it happens to be one of his favorite dishes. coincidentally, it was one of your least favorites, the scent of it rather unbearable to you.

"you're... you're making..." his cigarette threatens to tumble out of his lips as he gives you a bewildered expression.

he can see your nose briefly scrunch up before you give him a smile, one of your hands holding a wooden spoon and mixing up ingredients on a pan. "yeah. i hope i'm making it right. i mean, it won't be as good as yours anyway, but still."

"mon amour, you shouldn't. i know how much you can't stand the smell of it." he tries to usher you away, placing a hand on yours and insisting that he didn't want you to be queasy. "why're you making this, mon amour? did someone ask you to?"

you shrug and keep a firm hold on the wooden spoon, replying like the answer was obvious. "because i thought it'd make you happy."

ba-dum! ba-dum!

his cigarette does fall to the floor. the hand that's over yours tightens, perhaps his way of grounding himself. he's speechless for a moment, something shaking him down to his very center.

he could almost cry.

"sanji?" you ask, a little concerned for the chef as his eyes seemed to glaze over.

the blond snaps out of it, giving you a smile that's so warm it makes you wonder if the sun had just come up. there's none of that surface level attraction or lust in his gaze, only an authentic appreciation.

thank you. he thinks, feeling light. thank you for caring.

his eyes close as he once again takes in the scent of the dish you're preparing. "it smells great, mon amour. better than anything i've ever made, i’m sure of it."

"i doubt that." you laugh, downplaying his compliment. with a nod, you resume cooking. "it'll be finished by the time you're done with your watch. i can handle it."

sanji thanks you once more, his heart feeling full. returning to his post, he allows you to do something kind for him. he allows himself to take, without worrying about having to repay you.

he quells any lingering thoughts of insecurity and self-doubt, focusing instead on the meal that's sure to be waiting for him in the morning.

law

it was a couple weeks ago that law made the decision to educate the crew a bit more on medical practices.

the surgeon knew that he couldn’t always be around to provide assistance to the crew, so it was only logical that he trained everyone in basic first aid, including you. day after day, he trained everyone, one at a time.

was it a lot? yes. however, law liked to be prepared and felt comfort in being thorough with his teachings, regardless of how tedious it was.

so, finally it was your day to be trained under his watchful eye.

you could tell how passionate he was about his work, how knowledgeable. if you had any questions or wanted to know more about a topic, he took the time to explain it to you properly.

he was quite patient, something you were thankful for since you knew he could sometimes grow frustrated.

when it's all said and done, he quizzes you. he sits atop the exam table, his expression apathetic.

"i'm a patient suffering from shortness of breath, chest pain and dizziness." he flatly says, watching your every move. "what comes to mind? what do you check first?"

you bite at your lip, your head scrambling to come up with any ideas of what your 'patient' could be suffering from. "arrhythmia?" you answer, uncertain. he gives you a pressing look, urging you to continue. "and i... check your heartbeat?"

"good." with a nod of his head, he gestures towards the stethoscope. "go ahead, then. check it and let's see if you get the reading right."

pushing past your initial hesitance, you grab the stethoscope and put it on, gently holding the bell in your hand. placing it on his clothed chest, your expression turns frustrated as you struggle to hear a beat.

he rolls his eyes and calls your name lightly. "you can't place it over fabric. it needs to go directly on the skin."

oh yeah, you needed to place it directly on his chest.

you click your tongue, embarrassed by your slight error. "yeah, yeah, i got it."

with that, your hand slips under the hem of his shirt.

however, instead of holding up his shirt and and placing the stethoscope directly over his heart, your hand slides upward from his abdomen and all the way to his chest.

your fingers inadvertently graze along his skin, tracing a warm path from his navel to his heart.

you're too focused on your task to notice his widening eyes and how his breath hitches.

a content smile forms on your face when you catch the sound of his heartbeat.

ba-dum! ba-dum!

you look up at him, slightly concerned. “i think there's something weird-"

"you're hearing things." he's quick to say, placing a hand over yours and promptly removing it from his person. standing from the exam table, he adjusts his shirt and takes a step back to put some much needed distance between the two of you. "good job today, you did well."

he turns in the opposite direction, not wanting to let his cracked composure show. steeling himself, he takes a deep breath and shakes off any residual feelings of unease.

it was just a fluke. he's quick to think, wanting to be rational.

in the end, he looks over his shoulder and gives you a nod before heading to his study.

[webism]

kinktober day thirteen; somno w/ toji

toji loves it when you wear his shirts to bed. part of it is a natural possession, sure. seeing you drown in fabric made for his body is enough to send blood southwards. but his love for you in his clothes stems from something a whole lot simpler — his shirts always ride up while you sleep.

toji loves how adamant you are that his clothes are comfier to sleep in, and of course who needs panties when his shirts are so long on you that they act as a nightgown anyway? but you must turn in your sleep enough to kick the sheets down and ride his your top up in the same regard.

toji works late, comes home sore and tired and with one-too-many deaths on his hands at times. it's a sight for sore eyes, to see you sleeping soundly with your entire lower half exposed. top half too, his shirt bunched up so high your tits spill out from beneath the fabric as well. you're peaceful, away in a dream-state and unaware of his presence in the room. though there's something there, in your subconscious mind—having gone to sleep after texting him with permission to have his way with you when he gets home... even in sleep your mind races with hope.

toji tries to keep his movements small, and he thanks whatever god is out there for his silent steps because waking you up is the last thing he wants to do. not when you look so good like this, laid out and unassuming—maybe its his streak of a corruption kink, or his quiet hope to prove you wrong in your trust, but he wants you asleep for this, at least for the first part. you don't wake as he climbs onto the bed and roves his strong hands up your legs, parting them at the knees and settling his large frame between them.

toji isn't an inquisitive man—he's rough and sharp and mean and acts before he thinks and hardly knows how to handle a feeling. but toji watches your sleeping frame from between your legs and wonders just how much pleasure you could handle in your sleep until it bore too heavy on your soul and woke you up.

toji who eats you out with a delicate tongue for the first time ever: he's never been this kind with you, usually he's drooling all over your pussy, biting at your thighs and wrecking you with the curl of your fingers until you're a teary mess and threatening to suffocate him between your thighs. he learns he likes savouring your taste on his tongue, that you're sweeter when he takes his time—how the slow buildup of your lust on his tongue is just as narcotic as when he's got it smeared all over his face with how mean he eats it.

toji who manages to keep you sleeping even as he pushes two of his thick fingers inside of you, curls them upwards in as gentle of an assault on your pleasure spot he can manage. big the way you start your writhe, how your body recognises him even in a sleep state, turns him on just a little too much.

toji who can’t help himself once he feels your body melting into the thrums of need. he doesn’t want to waste your orgasm when you aren’t awake to fully enjoy it, so he pulls his fingers out of you and gets up to pull his stiff length from his boxers. he knows it’s mean of him, but he wants to wake you with a jolt — and so he does.

toji bottoms out inside of you in one sharp thrust and you wake with a gasp to the stretch of his cock nested so deep you feel it in your stomach. heart racing, entire body alight with need, toji is quick to quiet your gasps with two fingers pushed between your lips and pressed against your tongue. “taste yourself, mama. fuckin’ soaked for me even when you’re sleeping. didya dream about me or somethin?”

toji fushiguro decides there and then that he will learn the mechanics of your body so fluently that he will be able to fuck his cum into you twice over without waking you up. leaving you to rise in the morning and wonder why you’re so sticky and sore—but until then, he’s happy with the way you can’t help but yawn as he pulls almost all the way out of you, just to fucking scream as he thrusts back in.

@medusamara5 @echodead @curiositykilledthecatx3 @hirainne

@plinkuro @sooouth @megumiiiswife @nyxiswrites1200 @yveiscringe

@sharks31 @lenahathunger @aydene @dreamyokai @n0tviv

@chiiinglebells @timetoletmyimaginationfly @nayely45 @waffless-simp-blog

@zoozvie @gothicchildofthenight @repnights @flwerie @soundofraindropss

@ushijimas1simp @aliidarling @aeswin @peachygelic @silvermet

@rinadisapproves @theshxaverse @cipher00 @milkkteary @snackeyalleyjuice

@cvipped @toadtoru @keiette @satosugu4-ever

@sugurubabe @wickedpoison6 @simp-plague @tojis-ball-sack @ventila98

@xxbookdrunkdemigodxx @oikawasthirdleg @yogichi @theycallmesia

@kdrama-anna @vurelliex @anonnieghost @tadabzzzbee

@luvofbows @crywolfix @hhonaoin @gigiiiiislife @aviesnapkindoodles

@ninikrumbs @bijuu-naginata @baekhyunsbestie @grimmshold @dalnimmie

@domainexpansionmypants @5tarx @1depressedsimp @beachaddict48 @jadeis0nline

@sukunasbbygrl @luna-v-roiya @sukunaspillow @starsval @vamqyx

@laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee @mermaid-jewels @sugusmonkeyy @sammywo @noyaskneepad

@astrideverstar @lordchula-thagrandrula @chuuminn @angel1of-death @flooftoof

@rumi-rants @dysphoricsanity @coolcephalopod @satoruslxt @xoxo1mira

@whosmarjj @kikosaidbye @iceddragonfruit @amisuh @lotties-ashwagandha

@veraiku @niinistudies @jexx233 @logoleptic-since-06 @kirishimasboobs

@samaraxmorgan @sweetsformysoul @uranosbaaee @angeleen777

@xixflower @alifromtheotherworld

[tsuutarr]

Yandere!Hero (Chosen One) x Saint!Reader

Being the Hero – the Chosen One – means that the world’s fate is on Elias’ shoulders. He’s long since forgotten how to live for himself, his life belonging to everyone but him. He’s merely a puppet that’s being strung along by the world for the sole purpose of saving it.

At first, he was honored to be chosen as the Hero – it’s a privilege most don’t get. But everyone expects too much – everything – from him. His life is carefully shaped into what others want of him, people only looking at his role and not him as a person.

Now, he fights and saves people due to duty, not desire. There is no sparkle of pride when he helps villagers. Instead, all that is left is another thing checked off of his mental checklist. Now, he just wants to rest. He just wants things to be over.

So that’s why he despised the idea that some Saint from the Church would be his “helper.” Traveling with someone else is only going to slow him down. Not to mention the fact that he doubts the Saint has ever seen bloodshed and disease like he has.

But when he actually meets and travels with you, the Saint, he realizes that you’re actually not that bad. You’re actually kind of nice. He’d expected you to turn your nose at the commoner population, refusing to heal them, but you actively seek them out to help. You’re kind and gentle, but headstrong. Even when you’re visibly exhausted, you do your best to keep going. 

It’s… kind of impressive, actually. He had misjudged you, perhaps.

Even now, you’re helping the knights that were attacked by bandits (which Elias had vanquished), healing not only their bodies but their souls, too. He can’t help but look at you, a raw beacon of kindness that he hasn’t seen before in his travels. 

Once you’re done healing the knights, you look up at him, before a gasp escapes your lips. “Elias!”

He blinks at you, curiously.

“You’re bleeding!”

“Ah.” Elias looks down at his hand, blood dripping down his fingers. He had instinctively grabbed a knife by the blade earlier because he wouldn’t have been able to dodge it in time. “This is nothing.”

“Oh, shush!” you say, approaching him. You push him towards a tree stump, forcing him to sit, which he allows. Carefully, you take his hand in yours, frown deep set on your mouth. Your hand is so warm that it makes his heart burn.

“You’re tired,” he states, bluntly. He doesn’t tug his hand out of yours. “You’ve healed too many people.”

“I can–”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Rest for now, Saint. I am fine.” And he’s right – he’s the Hero, after all. His wounds heal much faster and better than a normal human being. He doesn’t necessarily need your healing.

“Still,” you murmur, looking up at him. “Can I at least clean and bandage it?”

It’s pointless, really, but Elias says, “Do what you want.”

So you do. You disinfect and clean his wound, before carefully wrapping his hand with bandages. For some reason, his heart squeezes painfully as he watches you tend to him so gently. He doesn’t remember if anyone’s ever treated him this kindly.

“There.” You look proud of yourself. It’s kind of cute.

“You didn’t have to,” he mutters without really thinking about it.

You give him a smile that makes his brain stop. “I wanted to. I want to support you.”

For some reason, your words almost make him want to cry. He’s not sure why – he’s seen so much death and destruction to the point that his emotions have become numb. Yet, you bring flickers of his feelings back to him – happiness, sadness, anger, love. 

You make him feel like he has an existence beyond just being the Hero. You make him feel human.

So, how can he let you go? He can’t – and he’ll do everything he can to make you his. Even if it means he has to destroy the world.

[ghostdeals]

It bother me so much that people misunderstand sayaka miki's descent into madness in madoka magica. She doesnt become a witch "just because of a boy." Sayaka is a character who ties all her self worth into being in service of others. We can see this right from the start with her idolization of mami and everything that she was. She saw mami as this "perfect hero" even though mami i would say is mentally the weakest of the holy quintet. In the timelines where mami finds out about the incubator's true goals she always immediately breaks and goes crazy, trying to kill the other girls in her own twisted way of trying to "save them". Instead of seeing the fragile person that mami was, sayaka instead sort of treats her as a martyr, a goal to achieve. We continue on to sayaka's magical girl wish. Instead of wishing for something for herself, she instead sells her soul for the sake of kyousuke. Then when he starts dating hitomi she spirals not because she's sad about the rejection but because she feels replaced in his life, that he doesn't need or want her around anymore. Then she throws herself into her magical girl work not seeing that she's harming herself because she justifies it with "well im saving people that means what im doing is a good thing." She doesn't see that she's becoming more sloppy, more ruthless until its too late. It's only in the end when she turns into a witch that her story gets resolved.

Sayaka Miki is an incredibly sad character to me. While her actions have the illusion of being selfless and "for the greater good" she is actually incredibly selfishly motivated. Everything she does is in service of wanting praise and admiration from the people she cares about. If she helps kyousuke he'll appreciate her and love her, if she becomes a hero she'll receive praise and admiration for being a good person. This is why it is important that of all people it was kyoko that fought sayaka in the end. To homura, sayaka is someone to be saved. To mami, sayaka is her sweet apprentice/younger sister figure. To madoka, sayaka is her energetic and happy go lucky friend. Kyoko is the only one who from the start called sayaka out on her bullshit, seeing straight through her. And at the end, kyoko is the one who truly accepts sayaka. Sayaka as the witch Oktavia von Seckendorff is stated multiple times in official material to be "looking for love." In the end it it kyoko who gives her that love. Even when sayaka has lost her humanity it is kyoko who accepts her for the entirety of who sayaka is with all of her selfishness and desires. She is the one who sees what sayaka has become and stays together with her till both of their ends. Kyoko choosing to die with sayaka is her saying "I'm here for you, i know all of you, and I will love you regardless."