#but I know its normal so I focused all my energy into accepting it and being okay with myself

[ace-and-ranty]

No, but really, the anti-diet movement found me at the EXACT right time, right before my pandemic weight gain that firmly pushed me from "chubby" to "fat".

If I hadn't gone into my thirties already extremely primed against diet culture, I would have been a lot more distressed, and I'm so grateful I got out just in time.

[globalrebrand]

Thinking about this post by @jymwahuwu....what about Capitano with a darling who wouldn't even tell him she's pregnant in the first place?

Warnings: Pregnancy, not sfw, angst, mentions of abortion

Capitano inquires about your recent doctors visit and you just shrug off his concern. Insisting it was just “a mild flu" and “I'll be better soon.” Never one to pry he doesn't push you for more details, even if your marriage is unconventional, he trusts that you would be honest with him considering he's never done anything to make you mistrustful of him. As far as he knows.

Your husband considers going over your head to confirm your condition with the doctor, but he knows that would only upset you. And regardless you’d bribed the doctor with your allowance to keep your pregnancy a secret.

You tell only your trusted ladies maid. Who diligently helps you keep up the ruse, she lets your bodices out and makes sure you don't show in the early months and makes sure you're never offered wine with dinner.

Capitano isn't around enough to notice the small but tell-tale signs that you're expecting, however, for the others who live in the manor it could not be more abundantly clear that you're pregnant.

So imagine his outrage when he hears of your pregnancy, not from your lips as he would have expected, but from one of the maids. It happens late one night when he's in the library reading, trying to find a moment of peace is an endlessly hectic month, while a maid dusts quietly on the upper level. You've made your self scarce recently and begrudgingly Capitano gives you space. Early in your relationship you told him that he was smothering and he accepted the criticism, and they two of you had found a balance, but now you are cold and aloof. You were never one to be vulnerable, and it was precisely a sort of quiet ferocity that you possessed that captivated him, but he was at his wits end. He thought that the two of you were making progress, but he supposes not, the last five months have been a regression. He would need to talk to you soon, the matter has become so distracting that he tunes in to the whispering happening on the upper levels. Another maid has joined the first as they chat languidly about house gossip when the subject turns to you.

"Her ladyship is so fatigued as of late. I'm not used to her being so torpid. It's disheartening." The first maid whispers almost imperceptibly, her words laced with worry.

Capitano stops focusing on his book entirely. They speak quickly and almost inaudibly quiet in their native Snezhnayan tongue, but his keen ears are able to focus perfectly on the conversation.

"Don't worry, I was the same way with my first, energy always came in bursts, though it left almost as quickly as it came." The other maid, older and a mother herself tries to assuage her colleague. "Poor dear, it only gets worse from this point." She sighs.

Confusion twists Capitano's features. He has in inkling of what the maids could be referring to, but if its as he expects he will be utterly irate that you did not tell him. He needs to hear them say it. Say the word and confirm his suspicions.

"Pregnancy sounds so scary. Ah, I still can't believe she hasn't told his Lordship."

"Oh, that I don’t understand at all, my husband would be furious ."

"Indeed." Capitano says aloud, shutting his book with a violent snap and storming out of the library.

He hears the maids gasp before leaving. Both clearly forgot about his presence. Another unexpected symptom of your influence, the staff have become entirely too comfortable.

Capitano ascends the stairs to your shared chambers. You should be getting ready for bed at about this hour and indeed he finds you in your shared bedroom. When he pushes the door open you startle, stopping in your tracks as you cross the room, but you quickly recompose yourself. This lie you've protracted has likely left you completely on edge.

A fire rumbles behind you in the hearth and your nightgown while not normally so visibly transparent became sheer in the light, it was subtle, but your silhouette against the firelight revealed the slightest protrusion of your midsection. You follow his gaze and turn away from him, without so much as a word.

For five months you’ve hardly let him see you naked not to mention you rejected all his attempts to initiate sex for the past three.

If you apprehend the hostility radiating off your husband, you do not acknowledge it. You were surprisingly stubborn and endlessly poised, keeping your cards quite close to your chest until it was time to play your hand. It would likely upset you but he would force you to show your hand, he'd been far too accommodating of your deceit.

You open your mouth to speak but Capitano wants none of your deflections.

"Pregnant? He questions. His tone, assured and firm. No room for argument, but Capitano can tell from your expression that your're willing to try it anyways.

The audacity that you would give him an incredulous look only incenses him further. He has to wonder why you are working so hard to hide your pregnancy from him.

Unless....it wasn't his.

No. You were many infuriating things, but you weren't disloyal...at least he thought.

"What? No--" His anger surges along with another dagger into his heart. Now he knows you’re lying. Or at least attempting to, but Capitano is having none of it. He has never lied to you. How could you so easily try to deceive him? It was dishonorable at best and a betrayal at worst.

"Don't you dare try to lie to me. The maids have already confirmed as much." He bats away your rebuttal with a terse reply.

As you come to realize the gravity of the situation, of your husbands rage, all color drains from your expression. The look of terror that paralyzes your features is out of place. As long as he you have been his wife, you have never even pretended to fear him. It is one of the qualities he admired about you. Now your wide frightful eyes and rigid frame are making him lose his nerve in the confrontation. An incredibly rare occurrence, the last thing Capitano ever wanted was for you to be afraid of him. However you had crossed a line, you had lied and actively misled him about a matter most important to you both.

"You didn't think to tell me?” He questions, the words curt and cruel.

"Well there's nothing you can do about it now." You reply, your tone defensive and your hackles raised. “It’s too late to….to do anything. The baby is coming.”

"Is it mine?" He questions, unfeeling and entirely unprepared for a negative answer.

"… how fucking dare you." You turn around to curse at him and Capitano is taken aback. He thought your eyes couldn't get any wider.

"Of course it is!" You cry, your expression equal parts outrage and hurt.

"Then why did you hide from me!" He matches your anger, raising his voice and stepping closer as you try to sidestep and evade him. The tightly controlled anger he bottled now sparking and bursting.

"I needed time to prepare." You implore exasperated as if Capitano should have understood your machinations perfectly.

"For what?!" He shouts.

"What if you didn't want it?!" You yell back. No tears have spilled but your eyes are wet and your face feels hot.

Capitano narrows his eyes at you, looking down on your defiant posture equal parts terrified and indignant. Then it all comes into focus.

You want this baby and you...thought he would make you get rid of it. With a gasping sob, you speak up again, your emotions now starting to get the better of you.

"What if you didn't want it....then what would I do?"

As intimate as you two have become in the past half year, Capitano remembers that you are both essentially strangers in many ways.

"Never assume my thoughts." He scolds, his tone terse but with much less bark. He closes the space between you, reaching out a tentative hand to you. Capitano is heartened when you take his hand, slender fingers curling around his broad palm. He begins to relax, but his rage has not subsided fully.

"You think I wouldn't want this child?" He questions, his voice much softer, but a slight resentment still colors his words.

"I didn't know what to think and I-I needed time." You replied, rubbing your tears away with your opposite hand. This is the first time he's seen you like this, so vulnerable. Capitano can't confidently say if he'd ever seen your cry before.

“Time for what?” Capitano urges you for more details. Your reasoning still alludes him. He would have gladly helped with any and all preparations for the baby. Seeing how things unfolded he regrets not being more forthcoming with his thoughts about having a child with you.

“To get a plan in place. If you told me to get rid of it.” Capitano can't even concieve of what you could mean. Would you attempt to leave him? Surely you weren't thinking something so idiotic, but he attempts to reserve judgement when he asks, "what would you have done?"

"Run away." You confess quietly, but Capitano only scoffs and rolls his eyes. The idea is preposterous. You will never leave him, Marriage is a bond that should be upheld and besides he is far too attached for you to leave now.

"I would never allow such a thing. You must honor the vows you made to me." Your husband asserts.

"I would still try. For my baby I-" You insist.

"Our baby." Capitano corrects. You pause, your tears dry and breathing calmed.

"I will not allow the child to inconvenience you." You plead, bringing a hand to his chest and searching his eyes, desperate for validation that he wants what you want. That he wants this child growing inside of you.

"No child of ours could ever be a burden to me." Your shoulders drop with relief and Capitano encircles you with his broad arms.

"You honor me most highly, by having my child." Capitano pauses before continuing, "and our child is already blessed to have a mother who would protect them so fiercely."

"You're not angry?" You question, shocked by his benevolence.

"Oh, I'm livid, but not about the child. At that news, I am delighted."

"I'm sorry," you whisper his name and nuzzle into his chest. "I just couldn't face your rejection. Not with this." You clarify and Capitano begins to see your perspective.

A child changes many dynamics in a romantic partnership and though the two of you seemed relatively stable in your young marriage. He can understand how your fear of his rejection would prevent you from being forthcoming. Especially with a matter so sensitive. Not that even remotely agrees with your actions.

"Is this why you have shied away from me these past month. Why you wouldn't let me touch you?"

You nodded.

Capitano picked you up and laid you on the bed, pushing your night gown up and spreading you legs. He licked his thumb and immediately began to caress your clit.

"You will not hide yourself from me in the future. I must know your thoughts."

You shuddered at the contact.

"Then you must do the same.” You demanded. Capitano could only smile at your gall, to be beneath him legs spread, pussy exposed and still you make demands of him.

"Behave this evening, sufficiently demonstrate your contrition, renew your devotion to me and I will give you anything you ask for." You consider his words before agreeing.

You nod again.

“Say yes husband.” Capitano requests with a raised brow.

"Yes, husband." A rare act of obedience. It suits you well.

Good. Capitano thinks. "I'm glad the terms are agreeable to you." He says lowering himself briefly to press a kiss to your lips, one much deeper and needier than any shared in recent months. Archons, how he's missed being with you like this.

Reluctantly Capitano parts from you and begins to undress himself, one hand working the buttons of his shirt while the other remains steadfast teasing your sex.

"You can start your penance by tending to me as I lick your cunt." Capitano’s smile grows wider as you shiver at his words, clearly aroused an eager. Despite the small pout that lingers on your lips. He heard that the libido of pregnant women was often more intense. You stubborn thing, denying yourself what you so clearly want. It is good that Capitano is in a forgiving mood. Your husband helps you out of your nightdress before laying beside you. He helps guide your hips to his face and keeps a guiding hand on your neck as he leads you to where he aches most. Capitano presses his nose to your dripping sex and inhales deeply. "It's been far too long since we last did this." He all but groans, and despite everything that’s transpired this evening, you're inclined to agree.

[lucysarah-c]

“It’s the only extra shirt I got here,” Levi’s voice returned to its natural stiffness as he handed her a V-neck long sleeve grey t-shirt.

“Thanks,” she said with a shy smile while accepting it. Levi nodded as he drank from his canteen. Once she was dressed, he offered her some water, which she accepted.

Exhaustion washed over them as they lay down. His eyes focused on the ceiling, his arms bent behind his head. She lay on her side, watching him.

“What?” Levi's fierce eyes looked askance at her as she admired his side profile.

Her humming negative reply was all he got at first, and then, “Was it… was it enough for you?”

He turned his head to his left. “I came, didn’t I?”

His bluntness was sometimes a blessing and sometimes not. She pouted at the idea. “But… we didn’t…”

“I said we wouldn’t,” Levi quickly picked up the meaning behind her lack of conviction and rushed to reply. “Besides, even if you wanted to, I wouldn’t have gotten my dick in. You’re in your fertile days.”

The knowledge of that affirmation eluded her completely, to the point that she didn’t even know what to inquire about first. She also felt extremely tired as she scooted closer to his frame. Levi took the hint and embraced her with one arm as she rested her head on his chest.

Humming again, this time affirmatively, she somehow understood his point. .. she believed.

“That’s scary…” she whispered after a few minutes, and his attention returned to her.

“What?”

“I don’t know if I’ll do it,” the words had no meaning to Levi, who was trying hard to follow her train of thought as she rambled. “I feel my legs tremble.”

Silence, as if she could hear the gears of his head working to comprehend. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“About jumping,” she said casually.

“Huh?” he insisted, slightly raising up to hover over his left arm to have a better look at her face.

They were both confused—him because he didn’t even fathom what she was talking about, and her because she couldn’t believe that someone as street-smart as Levi didn’t know about it.

“That…” she started her explanation, slightly ashamed like a kid afraid of answering a classroom question wrong. First confidently, then doubts sank in. “That you have to jump ten times after it, so… so you don’t get pregnant?”

Confusion, then realization. Levi’s frowning face as he tried to process what she had just said turned into his normal stoic one, and then he bit his bottom lip. His chest began to shake as he inhaled rapidly through his nose. He began to chuckle, and when his weight fell back onto the mat, he was loudly laughing.

Her disbelief at seeing him genuinely laugh for the first time was mixed with offense. ‘What’s so damn funny?’

Levi kept trying to control his reaction, stopping momentarily, but then he remembered it and laughed again. Covering his eyes with his forearm, he insisted on forming a sentence, but it was just too hilarious somehow.

“Let me get this straight,” he chuckled, “you thought that jumping ten times, not nine, it has to be ten, would magically prevent you from getting pregnant?”

At this point, she was heavily offended. “Well yes!” Her enthusiastic affirmation only made him more entertained.

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard,” his declaration between chuckles made her pout heavily at him, feeling the embarrassment quickly washing over her. “If it was that simple, brat, I wouldn’t have been born.”

His hand ran through his features as he calmed down, slightly shaking his head with closed eyes as he processed the idea. “God, how fucking bad are surface bastards that women have the energy to be jumping around after getting fucked?”

“Well, that was my question! Because I’m tired!” she complained loudly, feeling she finally had a fair point in this conversation.

To her surprise, Levi rolled to his side and grabbed her face. Her resistance due to her petty anger was pointless because he easily held her. Both hands on each side of her head, he then planted a kiss on her forehead.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” his whisper was fully covered in a thin layer of tenderness.

The pout on her features didn’t cease as his fingers ran down the side of her face; it felt insulting that he was looking at her with such appreciation after laughing in her face. His knuckles caressed her cheekbone so gently.

“Who told you that shit?”

“The girls in the barracks always talk about it,” she confessed, hoping that common knowledge among her companions would erase her ignorance.

“I’ll pull out and we’ll count days, that’s what we will do,” Levi explained.

Probably my favourite scene ever from Holy Ground.

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out.

Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @kikarouflames @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee

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[cvntydazai]

cat and mouse

ever since your first day at the agency you’ve made an effort to avoid dazai and his silly little games, even when he so desperately craves your attention.

pairing; dazai osamu x fem!reader

word count; 3.3k

content warning; nsfw (minors do not interact), unedited, cursing, dazai fingers reader, reader is gifted but their gift is not described/specified, the usual dazai shenanigans, mentions of blood/injury, mentions of murder, probably a lot more

authors note; sigh not only is this a day late but i’m not proud of it so sorry guys :( been so busy lately this was not what i had in mind for this fic, i still hope it’s enjoyable!

when you first joined the agency it was a desperate attempt to find a job that could utilize your gift, after many failed “normal” jobs you just had to accept that your situation wasn’t normal and you needed a job that could handle that. you caught wind of a detective agency full of gifted individuals and knew it was the perfect opportunity.

that’s how you got to where you were now, 6 months into your career as a gifted detective. it has been going perfect, being the longest job you’ve ever had.

there was just one issue, a big one that took its place in the form of a tall, bandaged man who could never leave you alone. dazai osamu, the issue called itself, would be the death of you.

it all started on your very first day at the agency, he wasted little time introducing himself and instead put all of his energy towards wooing you with those doe eyes. you also recall him telling you could rely on him anytime, followed by a wink and a knowing smirk. you were warned by yosano to keep your distance from him, advice that you still regret not taking to this day.

he tried to get your attention for weeks, throwing paper balls on your desk and mouthing at you to open them. inside was always a love note, multiple tiny hearts littering the crumpled paper. he never seemed to take it personally when you would throw those papers in your trash can, forgetting about them to continue on with work.

just when you begin to think he’s finally let go of his obsession with you, one fateful morning you end up alone with him in the office.

“ah, beautiful morning isn’t?” he attempted small talk, you only offered a nod and continued filing out your paperwork.

so engrossed in your work you didn’t realize how close he had gotten until you felt his warm breath fanning your shoulder, you naturally flinched. you cocked your head to glance at him, those tired eyes focused on your computer screen.

“what has you working your sweet little head off?” his curiosity would seem genuine to anyone who wasn’t familiar with dazai and his antics.

you cleared your throat, “just recalling the specifics of my previous mission.” he hummed, his slim hand brushing over yours so he could use the scroll wheel on your mouse. you watched as his eyes scanned the document, analyzing your every word.

being so physically close you were forced to take in all the features of him you chose to ignore, for your own good. you knew dazai was an attractive man, and he knew it too. you didn’t dare to look in his eyes anymore so you focused on his hair, unkempt yet still framed his face perfectly and looked fluffy, you wondered if it felt fluffy too.

“it’s hard to focus with you staring me down like a piece of meat, bella.” he whispered, you gasped at such an accusation.

“whatever, in your dreams.” you bit back, feeling flustered.

he turned to look at you, his eyes danced around your entire face, drinking in every detail of you like a book. many silent moments later, his eyes stopped when they landed on your lips, causing even more turmoil in your chest. it was all too much, being under the heavy gaze of someone like him.

“anyways..” you start, trying to find any excuse to break this close proximity. “the others should be here soon, we should start getting stuff done around here.”

he hummed in agreement, backing away at last. now that you felt like you could breathe again you tried your hardest to continue on with whatever paperwork you had. you ignored the tremble in your fingertips, typing away on the keyboard.

once the others started filing into the office the tension eased substantially, you were thankful for that. kunikida was the first to arrive, surprised to see you both already there. you ignored his curious stare, greeting him properly and then returning to your computer. dazai pestered the poor man for a bit before quieting down himself.

you thought that was it, the weird encounter in the office would be the last of his teasing. couldn’t he see you weren’t in the mood for his games, or was this all too amusing for him to care?

fate would put you in a battle against dazai once again just a mere week later. you both sat in front of your boss, a kind man by the name of fukuzawa. in your months here at the agency your respect for him has only grown, his admiration for his employees and the work they do warmed your heart. you truly felt grateful to be under the command of someone as strong-willed and humble as he was.

“there’s a murder scene i’d like the two of you to look into, please go gather evidence.” he says, hands folded in his lap while he speaks to you.

you’re both silent as he goes over the details of the case. a body found in the museum with suspicion of a gifted individual being involved, it felt as normal as these missions usually are. once you’re dismissed you and dazai make your way outside to the cab waiting for you.

he rushes to open the car door for you, motioning you inside with an eager smile. you sigh, complying with whatever he was up to.

you shuffle around a bit until you’re comfortable, dazai takes his seat beside you and the car begins moving. while dazai stared out of the window on his side, you occupy yourself with responding to all the messages people have sent you that you pushed aside to finish work. some may call you a workaholic (dazai), others (kunikida) call you a devoted employee, you much preferred the title of a devoted employee. your desire to be of use was finally fulfilled now that you were at the agency, for that you were eternally thankful.

“my dear y/n, i just realized something!” the loud voice of dazai makes you cringe, clutching your poor phone into a death grip.

he doesn’t let you respond, “this is our first time handling a case together alone, just the two of us!” the excitement in his tone makes you irritated.

“and what about it?” your monotonous response makes the brunette clutch his chest, a look of hurt in his eyes.

“we finally get the alone time we’ve been dying to have since our little moment in the office.” if the phone that was still being strangled in your palm wasn’t already broken, it sure was now.

“you totally misread the situation in the office, i wasn’t even looking at you like that!” the anger in your tone came across as an embarrassed yelp, it made his grin grow wider.

there was no point in arguing with a man who has made up his mind, he totally thought you were checking him out and now he’ll never back down. an exasperated sigh left your lips, deeply regretting not taking yosano’s warning seriously.

thankfully, all you had to endure for the rest of the car ride was dazai’s humming to a tune you were unfortunately accustomed to by now. it was hard to forget said song when it was always filling the office air, either by dazai’s singing or the sound blaring from his headphones that were definitely not noise-canceling.

hell, you even caught yourself humming the tune from time to time, not that you’d ever let someone else find out.

“we’re here.” you thanked the driver, hastily leaving the vehicle before dazai could open the door for you.

the museum in front of you was old, ready to crumble at any given moment, many of the stone bricks were cracked beyond repair and the shrubs that surrounded the entrance were all dead or dying. you never got the details on whether or not the place was even running anymore.

“this museum shut down years ago and no one has bought it since, perfect place to commit murder.” dazai appeared beside you, seemingly answering the question to your thoughts.

you nodded in agreement, stepping inside without a second thought.

inside all you could see was chaos, shattered glass from broken display cases and graffiti littering the walls. it almost pained you, seeing how this once beautiful sanctuary of history was now torn to shreds for no good reason.

you found what you were looking for quick, the bright yellow caution tape gave it away. you’re sure the police had already come to take the body, so it didn’t surprise you when you didn’t see anything there.

fukuzawa strictly said you were only here to gather evidence, so that’s what you’ll do. while you got to work, dazai lazed around the building, kicking random trash around to entertain himself. he would giggle when you scolded him for tampering with possible clues.

you knew you were only here to gather evidence but something about the whole situation felt so strange to you, leaving you no choice but to investigate further. normally, you pride yourself in how well you are at gathering information needed for an investigation, but this time around you were completely stumped.

it had your brain so wracked you even contemplated calling ranpo, however you fought against it since you knew he was already working on a case today and you didn’t want to bother him just because you couldn’t find clues that may not exist.

after a few more minutes of coming back empty handed the realization hit you like a truck, a soft breath leaving your lips at your newfound discovery.

“dazai..” you mumble, still a bit unsure of your conclusion, he only hummed in response.

“i don’t think a murder ever occurred here.” nothing but silence on his part, until you hear the shuffling of his footsteps and his breath hot against your ear.

“well done, flower! to be honest, i didn’t think you would figure it out this quickly.” his hushed voice felt loud with him being so close to you.

you were left confused once again, if dazai knew from the start why didn’t he just say so? or was he the one who orchestrated this whole thing? so many questions reeling through your brain, and dazai was thoroughly enjoying watching you piece together the mystery he created for you.

but alas, he had to cut it short, you two had limited time here after all. fukuzawa would eventually figure out dazai’s antics and there would be hell to pay, that was a problem for later though.

“i made the whole thing up!” he admitted, lips still dangerously close to your ear. “you were always so busy, i needed to get you alone for once.”

you pushed him off you in an instant, anger bubbling inside you. never once did you expect dazai to do something like this, no matter how crazy he was at times. hell, this was beyond crazy.

“you couldn’t have gone about it like a normal fucking person? jesus christ, dazai!” you were now pacing, thinking of all the time you lost entertaining this game of his when it could have been spent at the office or on a real case.

“oh bella please, let me finish.” he begged, stepping close to you again.

you protested for a second time, taking a step back so he couldn’t reach you. it would prove to be the wrong move, your ankle catching on a stray piece of rubble from all the broken displays in this damned building. you’re sent tumbling backwards, a cry leaving your lips as you reached out to grasp dazai’s open arms.

your landing is hard, your ankle throbbing with pain from whatever it was caught on. dazai is at your side in an instant, a look of concern adorning his features as he practically cradled you.

“are you okay?” his voice was serious this time around, so much so that it caught you off guard.

“no, my ankle is bleeding.” you state, clear annoyance in your voice whilst you examine your injury.

you’re caught off guard once again by him effortlessly picking you up from the floor and setting you down on a flat, clean surface. now perched on a white table, you let your other leg dangle off the edge while you tend to your hurt ankle.

dazai claims he’ll be back, that he’s going to search for a medkit around here. you nod, happy to be away from his suffocating presence. you’re not anywhere near free from your thoughts though, the lanky man is still clean in your mind.

you didn’t even know he possessed the strength to lift you like that, he always looked so frail and ready to break at any given. you shake your head from any further thoughts of dazai, that stupid man.

“found one.” he was back again, a small medkit in his rather large hands.

despite your many protests he still insisted on caring for you, acknowledging that this was his fault and the responsibility should fall on his shoulders. you kept your mouth shut while he wrapped your foot in the bandages the first aid kit provided. his soft touches to your swollen skin were light, almost soothing.

you hated this, hated how perfect he was. how were you supposed to ignore such a man when his presence was everywhere. most of all though, you were still thoroughly pissed! he not only wasted your time, but the agency’s time, and that was unforgivable in your eyes.

“why?” you question him, “and don’t give me that bullshit ass excuse from before, or so help me.”

he chuckled at your threatening words, eyes remained trained on your foot. there was a momentary pause before his eyes met yours, his held mischievous undertones.

“i was getting tired of this back and forth, you know.” there he goes again like a broken record, you huffed.

“i don’t know what you’re-“ he cuts you off with a finger to your lips, hushing you in the sweetest way he could muster.

“the other day, when you threw away one of my well thought out love letters i went to retrieve it after you left to the bathroom, can you imagine my surprise to find it wasn’t there anymore?” your eyes widen, like a deer caught in the bright headlights of a hunters truck.

“and then i go to check your locker and i see every single one of them in a nice neat stack.” his finger was taken off your lips, his eyebrow raised as if expecting an answer to his discovery.

“why were you in my locker?” you deflect, feeling embarrassed that he knew about your little secret.

instead of answering he finished wrapping your foot, giving the gauze one final tug before leaving it be. he smiled at you, a smile you couldn’t read. with your legs spread out like they were, it gave him the perfect opportunity to weave in between them and trap your body close to his. he did just that, growing dangerously close to you.

“dazai..” you start, unsure.

he doesn’t say anything, instead focusing on treading his fingers against your waist, eyes never once leaving yours.

“we shouldn’t..” you speak again, your breathing growing more sporadic when he hooks one of his fingers underneath your belt buckle, the way he plays with it is teasing.

“why shouldn’t we, bella? i arranged all of this for us anyways.” his way of showing interest in you, doing something so unsound with little care for the consequences.

but oh god, was it attractive. his touch grew more and more needy by the second and you couldn’t find the desire to push him away, because deep down you wanted this too. you knew you wanted the bandaged detective the second you walked through those doors and saw him sitting there, fiddling with little trinkets he had on his desk looking pretty as ever.

“i think we should put an end to this cat and mouse game, hm?” his voice fills your ears again and this time around you listen, nodding whilst wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him even tighter against you.

he’s first to put his lips on yours in a desperate, longing kiss. he tastes sweet, probably from whatever chapstick he uses. the kiss is deeply rooted in lust yet affection as well, he squeezes your waist in the lightest way possible.

“dazai!” you moan out, surprised when he bites your bottom lip teasingly.

“osamu.” he says through the kiss. “call me osamu.” and then he’s back to attacking you, hips rutting into yours.

you think you’ll pass out with how long he’s been kissing you but he eventually pulls away, leaving you gasping for air. he wastes little time, discarding his pants and helping you with yours, the desperation evident in his eyes as he stands before you in just his boxers and dress shirt. he looks like a crazed man who had been holding back for far too long.

once you’re free from the confines of clothing it allows him to truly feel you, his palm cupping your heat. he runs two fingers across your slit before prodding them at your entrance.

“so beautiful, everything about you is so beautiful.” he whispers, stopping his hand entirely.

“dazai.” you say again, sounding more desperate than before, it was even possible.

“osamu.” he corrects, his voice still soft but held hints of firmness.

you repeat his first name back to him and he finally slips two fingers into your cunt. his long fingers are able to reach parts inside of you that your own fingers can’t, the new length has you bucking your hips into his hand.

he lets out a muffled giggle but says nothing, his eyes watching the way you suck his fingers in with every thrust. he looks entranced by the sight, it leaves you feeling shy. you have no time to dwell on your embarrassment as he picks up his pace, along with adding a third digit to your already full pussy.

the stretch of the third finger and the change in pace has you throwing your head back, nails clawing at the table you were perched up against just to give yourself some sort of stability.

you feel your climax approaching quicker than you anticipated, shaking your head from the overstimulation. just before you were about to reach your high, it was ruined by a muffled ringing in dazai’s discarded pants. he pulls his fingers out of you in a swift motion, ignoring your whines of protest as he reaches to grab the phone from his pants pocket.

“hey boss.” he starts, his voice as quirky as ever.

you could hear fukuzawa’s irritated tone through the phone even if you couldn’t pick up his exact words. dazai simply hummed and nodded in agreement, even letting out an apology for the time wasted on a fake case. within just a few minutes the call was over, and dazai’s smile had grown even larger.

he ended the call with a sigh, a pout on his lips that told you he was definitely in trouble when you two got back to the agency. you wondered what excuse he’d give the boss, and what punishment he would receive for lying.

“i’m truly saddened to have to cut this short.” you knew he meant it, you gave him a smile.

“it’s okay, we’ll continue it tonight after we see what kind of hell fukuzawa is gonna put you through for this.” the promise of this continuing excited him, and for once he couldn’t wait to get back to the office to finish up his job.

he helped you put your pants back on before putting on his own, making sure your injury was still well taken care of. this time you don’t fight him even once, allowing him to assist you to the car that was waiting outside for the two of you.

[hjvi]

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𝘜𝘯𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯, 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘈𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘠𝘰𝘶

⚠︎  mdni, heavy smut, eating disorder (anorexia), overall mature subjects, and more

⤷ A gentle reminder: If my content ever feels overwhelming, please take care of yourself and step away. Anorexia is a key theme in this story, and as someone who understands its weight, this fic is deeply personal to me. I want to remind you that you're never alone in your journey.

Sending love and healing to all. 🩷

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𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 2: 𝙎𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩

The sound of skates carving through ice echoed in the quiet rink, but it barely registered in my mind. I was too focused on the way Chris’s hand felt in mine. The warmth of his fingers, the way they gently squeezed as if trying to anchor me to this moment, to him. I wasn’t sure if it was the silence of the rink or the chaos inside my head, but there was something in the air—something thick with unspoken words.

Chris and I stood side by side, staring out at the empty ice, both lost in the gravity of everything that had been said. He had apologized, confessed his love to me, and promised to help me heal. His words hung in the air between us, fragile and uncertain. I had told him I was willing to give us a chance, to give him a chance. But I wasn’t sure if I believed I deserved any of this.

I glanced down at our hands, our fingers still intertwined. And that’s when I saw it.

His eyes dropped to my bruised hands. The skin was discolored, darkened from the impact of fists, marks left from someone who should have loved me. The edges of his expression tightened for a fraction of a second before he quickly glanced away, like he couldn’t stand looking at them anymore. His jaw clenched briefly before he let out a shaky breath.

“Hey, uh,” Chris started, his voice tight as if he were trying to sound normal. “Do you wanna come over to my house? I have something I want to show you.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t know if I was ready for more of his kindness, for more of his attention. But I nodded slowly, almost instinctively. What else could I do? I wasn’t sure how long I could stand there, the weight of his unspoken questions pulling me under.

We left the rink, and within minutes, Matt—his only triplet brother with a license—pulled up in their old, beat-up car. The ride was silent, the kind of silence that feels louder than anything. Chris, normally so animated, so full of energy, sat beside me, his eyes flicking to me every few seconds as if he were studying my every move, trying to make sense of the distance between us.

I could feel his eyes on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, pressing down on me with every passing second.

When we finally arrived at Chris’s house, I shuffled behind him up to his room, his footsteps quick and purposeful, as if he wanted to show me something important. My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I took in the walls of his room, decorated with rap posters, old vinyl records, and the familiar scent of his cologne and something else—comfort, maybe. It was all so him, yet I felt so out of place.

“You okay?” he asked, concern in his eyes as he glanced over at me. He had been looking at me like that all day—like I was something precious that he couldn’t bear to break.

I nodded stiffly, offering him a weak smile as I dropped my eyes to the sleeves of my hoodie. They were covered in dried tears, remnants of mascara streaking down my face from the few times I had wiped away my tears, trying to keep it together. I wasn’t even sure why I cared.

Chris noticed, and without hesitation, he moved to his closet, pulling out a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. “Here,” he said, holding them out to me. “You need something clean. You can change in the bathroom, if you want.”

I accepted the clothes reluctantly, feeling an odd wave of guilt rise in my chest. I didn’t want to take anything from him. But his kindness felt almost overwhelming. And when I inhaled the scent of his hoodie, it was like an old memory wrapped around me, one that made me ache for a time I hadn’t realized I had lost. The familiarity of it made me feel both comforted and strangely distant.

“I’ll wait outside,” he said, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him gently.

I walked into the bathroom and shut the door. The room was silent except for the hum of the fluorescent light above me. The mirror reflected a version of myself I didn’t recognize. I stood there for a long time, staring at myself. I unzipped my hoodie and slipped it off, throwing it on the floor, before pulling at the waistband of my low-rise jeans, stepping out of them with shaky hands. I was all too aware of the hollow feeling in my body, the emptiness that came from not eating, not caring.

As I reached for the hoodie Chris had given me, I slid my arms into the sleeves, feeling how much too big it was. The fabric hung off me like a curtain, too large for my frame. I felt the fabric stretch and tug, the empty space inside me made all too clear.

I lifted the hoodie, my fingers grazing the sharp outline of my ribs. I swallowed hard, fighting the rising wave of panic. I could feel the hollow hollowness inside of me, the bruises left by years of self-doubt and the echoes of my father’s words.

I stared at myself in the mirror, not realizing how much time had passed. Minutes slipped by like hours.

I couldn’t take it. I yanked the hoodie off, the fabric crumpling in my hands. My skin prickled with a familiar discomfort—the kind of vulnerability that I hated, the kind of vulnerability I had never been allowed to show.

There was a knock at the door.

“Are you okay in there?” Chris’s voice was muffled but full of concern.

I wanted to answer, but the words wouldn’t come. Before I could say anything, the door creaked open just a fraction. And then Chris stepped inside, his eyes immediately catching on my bare skin, my sweatpants hanging off my frame, and the rawness of my vulnerability.

He froze. “Oh God, I’m sorry,” he stammered, his face flushing in embarrassment. But he didn’t turn away. Instead, he stepped back, his eyes not leaving me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, I sank down onto the floor, my knees buckling beneath me as my body began to tremble. The sobs came in waves, uncontrollable, and I couldn’t stop them. I just sat there, breaking apart in front of him, unsure how to stop the flood of emotion that had been building for so long.

Chris, to his credit, didn’t try to rush over. He sat down next to me slowly, careful not to overwhelm me. He gave me space, but his presence was steady, like an anchor holding me together when I was slipping away. His hand hovered near me, unsure, but it was enough.

“You don’t like the hoodie color?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood with a joke, but I couldn’t even muster a smile.

“I feel so weak, Chris,” I cried. “I feel so skinny, like I’m fading away, and I can’t stop. I’m just… I’m so broken.”

His hand finally found its way to my back, gently rubbing circles over the fabric of his hoodie. “You’re not weak,” he said softly. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. And you don’t need to feel insecure. I love you. I’ll help you through this. You don’t have to fight this alone anymore.”

His words—gentle, so full of love and compassion—were a balm to the raw wounds inside me. I buried my face in his chest, not caring about how vulnerable I was, how exposed. For the first time in a long time, I let myself cry freely, knowing that someone was here to help me piece myself back together.

When the tears finally started to subside, Chris pulled away gently, his fingers brushing my hair out of my face. “How about a bath?” he suggested quietly. “A vanilla bubble bath. I’ll set it up for you.”

I let out a shaky giggle, feeling a hint of something lighter for the first time that night. “That sounds nice.”

“I’ll get everything ready,” he said, his voice soothing as he helped me stand. “You just… take all the time you need.”

As he went to his brother Matt’s room to give me some privacy, I stood there for a moment, lost in the quiet of the bathroom. I reached up to wipe away the last of my tears, but the weight of everything still hung heavy on my shoulders.

When I walked back into Chris’s room later, towel in hand, I overheard him talking to Matt in hushed tones, the conversation I had been dreading.

“Do you think she’s too thin?” Matt asked, his voice quieter than usual.

“I don’t know,” Chris replied, a tone of sadness in his words. “She’s just… so fragile, Matt. I don’t know how to fix her. I just want to help her.”

The words crushed me. I turned on my heel and fled back to his room, sinking down onto the floor with my back against his bed. It wasn’t about fixing me. I wasn’t some broken thing to be fixed.

I wiped away my tears, quickly swallowing down the rising wave of self-doubt. When Chris entered the room, he froze when he saw me sitting on the floor. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, kneeling down beside me.

“I don’t know, Chris,” I whispered, the weight of it all crashing back down on me. “I don’t know how to wash myself… I hate seeing my body.”

“Hey,” he said, lifting my chin gently, “it’s okay. You don’t have to do it alone.”

He reached under his bed and pulled out a small, weathered box. He opened it slowly, revealing photos of me, my hair ties, old bracelets, small trinkets I had long forgotten about. My breath caught in my throat.

“I kept everything because I can’t live my life without thinking about you,” Chris said softly, his eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite understand. “You are so beautiful. I hate seeing you do this to yourself. But I’ll be here. I’ll always be here, and I won’t leave you.”

I stared at the box, unable to speak for a moment. His words hit me harder than anything. He cared about me, but why did he talk about me like I was something broken, something that needed fixing?

I didn’t know, but I had to find out. And for the first time in so long, I was willing to try.

Chris sat beside me, the silence in his room hanging like a heavy blanket. He’d shown me the box, full of my old trinkets—little pieces of me that I hadn’t even realized mattered to him. But now, staring down at the photos, the bracelets, and the hair ties I had long forgotten about, something inside me was starting to crack.

“I—I didn’t even know you kept these,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I ran my fingers over a photo of me from years ago. It was from a school trip, one where I had laughed so hard my stomach ached, my eyes crinkling with joy. I couldn’t even remember that girl. She felt like a stranger now.

“I couldn’t let go of anything that had you in it,” Chris murmured, his voice low and serious, as if the weight of his words mattered more than anything else. “You’ve always been on my mind. Always. Even when I was… too stupid to realize it.”

I felt a swell of warmth in my chest at his words, but a sharp pang of guilt followed right after. He kept these things because he couldn’t forget me. But I had been so lost, so deep in the dark that I couldn’t remember who I was before all the pain.

“You always knew how to make me laugh,” I said, swallowing hard as I fought against the rush of emotions. “I used to laugh all the time. And now, it feels like I’ve forgotten how.”

Chris didn’t answer at first. His hand, gentle but firm, found mine. His fingers wrapped around my wrist, pulling my gaze back to him. His eyes were so earnest, so full of concern, like he could see right through the walls I had built around myself.

“You haven’t forgotten, though,” he said softly. “You just haven’t had a reason to laugh in a while. But you will again, I promise.”

I looked away, tears gathering in my eyes, and Chris squeezed my hand, the contact grounding me, reminding me that I wasn’t alone in this.

“Chris… I—I’m scared,” I whispered, barely audible. “Scared of what’s happening inside me. I don’t know how to fix it.”

His face softened, and he slowly pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me. I rested my head against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of him—the cologne, the faint smell of laundry detergent, and something uniquely Chris, something that felt like home. His embrace was warm, enveloping, and for a moment, the world outside his room, outside of everything I had been through, seemed so far away.

“You don’t have to fix anything,” he whispered into my hair. “I’ll help you, step by step. But you don’t have to fix it all on your own. You don’t have to carry this burden alone. Not anymore.”

I nodded, my breath catching as I allowed myself to lean into him, feeling something shift within me. The heaviness that had weighed on my chest for so long was starting to lighten, piece by piece.

There was a long pause, where all we did was hold each other, not saying anything more. And then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Chris pulled back slightly, his hand moving to my cheek, lifting my face to meet his eyes.

“You want to take that bath?” he asked softly, his voice coaxing yet gentle.

I hesitated for a moment. I hadn’t planned on doing anything like that. The thought of getting clean, of scrubbing away the remnants of the past, made me feel exposed in ways I wasn’t ready to face. But something in his gaze softened the edges of my fear.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “I think I do.”

“Good,” he said, his crooked smile tender as he brushed a lock of hair from my face. “I’ll get it ready for you.”

I stepped into the bathroom a few minutes later, the soft sound of Chris’s footsteps fading into the background as he prepared the bath. The room was bathed in warm light, the kind of soft glow that felt like it could cradle me in its embrace. He had already filled the tub with bubbles, the scent of vanilla wafting through the air.

“Here,” Chris said, handing me a fresh towel and a pair of his old slippers, the kind he wore around the house. “I’ll give you privacy to change. Just… take your time.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice to speak. The thought of washing away the layers of pain that had accumulated over time felt almost foreign. But Chris was right—this was part of healing. I could start small. I could start with something simple, like the warmth of the water surrounding me.

As I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the bath, the water felt like a second skin. It was soothing and gentle, yet the bubbles seemed to bring everything to the surface. I leaned back, letting the warmth seep into my muscles, trying to breathe deeply, trying to calm the storm that raged inside my head.

But it was still there. The emptiness, the ache. The feeling of being too small, too fragile, too broken.

Chris knocked on the door softly a few minutes later, his voice muffled. “You okay in there?”

“I’m… I think so,” I called back, my voice barely above a whisper.

He pushed the door open a crack, just enough for his head to peek through. “Do you want me to come in?” he asked, his eyes soft with concern.

I hesitated. A thousand thoughts swirled in my head. But in that moment, I needed him. Not in the way I had needed someone before, but in the way that felt raw and real.

“Yeah,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Please.”

Chris stepped into the bathroom, his presence so calming it was like I could finally breathe a little easier. He moved with quiet care, making sure not to intrude, not to overwhelm.

He sat on the edge of the tub, his hand brushing lightly against my hair, careful not to disturb the bubbles.

“Do you need help?” he asked, his voice a soft murmur.

I shook my head, feeling a lump rise in my throat. “I don’t know if I can… do this,” I whispered.

Chris took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was unwavering. “I’m here. I’ll help however I can, even if it’s just sitting here with you.”

And so, he did. He sat by the edge of the tub, his hand gently resting on my arm, a grounding presence.

I finally closed my eyes, letting the warmth of the water, the comfort of his touch, and the gentleness of his voice wash over me.

The warm water enveloped me like a second skin. The steam rose in gentle swirls, filling the bathroom with the soft scent of vanilla bubbles, calming me just enough to breathe deeper. But as I sank further into the tub, I couldn’t shake the heavy weight pressing down on my chest. The scars, the bruises, the emptiness inside—it was all still there, lingering like a storm inside me.

The soft clink of a bottle being opened echoed in the quiet, followed by the sound of Chris’s voice, calm and steady, like he was trying to anchor me.

“Is the water warm enough?” he asked, standing just outside the tub, his voice soft and considerate.

I nodded, though my eyes were shut, a futile attempt to block out everything. I hadn’t expected this. I hadn’t expected him to stay close, to offer to help. It was overwhelming in a way I couldn’t explain. But still, I felt the faintest stir of relief in my heart. Maybe this was what I needed. Maybe this was how I could start to heal.

Chris, sensing my hesitance, didn’t rush. He waited, patient and gentle, until I nodded again, finally allowing him into the space I had, until now, kept so tightly guarded.

“I’m right here,” he said, kneeling beside the tub. His hand reached out, his fingers brushing softly against my shoulder as if to reassure me. He was so close, and yet he gave me space, the quiet comfort of his presence enough to settle my nerves. “Do you want me to help you wash?”

The words felt strange on my tongue, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. But part of me wanted him to stay close, to be the one to help me through this—this vulnerability that terrified me. So, I swallowed my pride and nodded, unsure of what else to do.

Chris’s voice was low and steady, a constant reassurance as he reached for the body wash, the soft scent of lavender and vanilla wafting through the air. He poured it into his hands, lathering it gently before turning his attention back to me.

“I’m just going to start with your arms, okay?” he asked, his eyes soft but filled with something more—something that felt like a promise.

I swallowed hard, afraid of what I might see if I let him in too much, but I couldn’t find the strength to pull away. There was something about his kindness, his unwavering patience, that made me feel a little less fragile.

His fingers gently cupped my wrist as he began to wash the skin of my arms, his touch tender, careful not to overwhelm me. The sensation of his hands gliding over my skin was almost too much to bear, yet it was strangely soothing, like he was washing away pieces of the hurt that had accumulated for so long.

“Let me know if it’s too much,” Chris murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper, a tenderness in his tone that made my heart ache. His touch was light as he moved down, past my elbows, moving to my forearms, the lather turning into a soft foam as it slid across my skin. His touch was careful, as if he could sense the weight of my past, the scars, both seen and unseen, that I was trying to bury beneath the surface.

I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the feeling of his hands. Trying to let it soothe the growing discomfort in my chest. But with every gentle sweep of his fingers, the floodgates seemed to open, and my chest tightened. The moment felt too intimate, too raw, but still, I stayed.

“You’re doing great,” he whispered, his voice steady like a beacon in the storm. “I’m right here.”

His hands moved to my shoulders, the pads of his fingers tracing over the skin of my upper arms with gentle care. As he reached the back of my neck, his hands hesitated, and I could feel the heat of his gaze, though I refused to meet it. I could feel the weight of his concern pressing against me, like he wanted to do more, wanted to somehow fix what had been broken for so long.

But he didn’t push. He simply washed, quietly, steadily, as if he was trying to reassure me that nothing would change in this moment—he wouldn’t rush, he wouldn’t push me beyond what I could handle.

Slowly, I felt his hands move to the small of my back, washing down the length of my spine. His touch was so gentle, so unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world to make sure I felt cared for. His hands glided over the small curve of my back, and even though I felt exposed, raw, I felt something stir within me—a longing for comfort, for healing. I closed my eyes, biting back the tremors that threatened to overtake me.

“You’re okay,” Chris said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re safe.”

I felt the tears well up in my eyes again, threatening to spill over, but I held them back, clenching my fists in the water, willing them to stay.

His hands moved to my ribs then, slowly, as though he was afraid of hurting me. The touch was so tender that it made my heart ache in a way I wasn’t prepared for. His fingers brushed over the skin of my side, and I stiffened involuntarily, the memories of being touched without care, without kindness, rushing back to me.

Chris noticed instantly. His hands froze for a moment, as though he was waiting for me to pull away. But I didn’t. Instead, I leaned into his touch, trying to let it soothe me, trying to remind myself that I wasn’t broken beyond repair. Not yet.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion. “I just… I just hate how I look. How I feel.”

Chris’s voice softened, filled with an emotion I couldn’t place. “You’re beautiful,” he said simply, the words steady, unwavering. “You’re beautiful just the way you are. Don’t ever forget that.”

I closed my eyes tighter, not sure I could believe him, but the warmth of his hands on my skin, the way his fingers moved carefully over me, told me he wasn’t lying. He saw me. The real me. Not the broken pieces I tried to hide.

His hands moved to my stomach, gently lathering the soap along the curve of my waist. I could feel myself wanting to shrink away, but I stayed, breathing in deeply, trying to let myself relax. I had to remind myself that this was Chris. The same Chris who had made me laugh in ways I had forgotten. The same Chris who had been my friend, my constant, long before everything had gone wrong. And now, he was still here.

“Almost done,” he said, his voice quiet, soothing. His hands moved slowly, methodically, as though trying to memorize the feel of me, as though he needed to make sure I was taken care of.

I nodded again, my throat tight with emotion, but the discomfort started to ease just a little. His hands felt like safety, like protection, and I let the warmth of the water, of him, wash over me.

When he finished, Chris gently pulled his hands away and grabbed the towel from the nearby rack. His fingers worked quickly, drying my skin with soft, deliberate motions. His touch, while gentle, was insistent, as if he was trying to remind me that I was still here, still whole, even if it didn’t feel like it.

“Come on,” he said, his voice soft, a smile tugging at his lips as he helped me out of the tub. “Let’s get you cozy.”

As he helped me into a pair of his old sweatpants and a loose hoodie, I couldn’t help but notice how his hands lingered over the soft fabric. It felt so… normal. The simple act of being cared for, of being seen, was something I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in a long time.

When he finished, he tucked me into his bed, the soft covers enveloping me like a cocoon. He sat on the edge, just watching me, his eyes full of something I didn’t know how to name.

“I’m here,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, or not talk, I’m here.”

I nodded, the exhaustion of everything that had happened weighing heavily on me. But for the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn’t drowning in it all. Chris was here, and I wasn’t alone.

And for now, that was enough.

“Chris,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, “I never meant for any of this to happen. I never meant to let myself get this far.”

“I know,” he replied softly, his fingers brushing through my hair. “But it’s not your fault. You’re not to blame for the things that have happened to you. You’ve been through more than anyone should have to go through.”

I sighed deeply, the weight of his words sinking into me. I closed my eyes, a tear slipping down my cheek despite my best efforts to hold it in. I could feel his hand on my cheek, wiping away the tear.

The room felt heavy, the silence between us thick with unspoken things. I had shared the worst parts of myself with Chris—the parts of me I had been hiding, the parts I hadn’t dared to look at in years. But as the words left my mouth, I realized how much more there was to say, how much I had buried beneath the surface. And now, with Chris here, his steady presence beside me, it felt like the dam inside me had broken open.

Chris didn’t speak immediately, but I could feel his anger simmering beneath his calm exterior. It was there in the way his jaw tightened, in the way his fingers gently squeezed mine, as if he were trying to hold me together while trying to contain the fury building inside him.

“You’re safe now, (Y/N),” he said softly, but there was a strain in his voice. “But I want to know more. I need to know what happened�� all of it.”

I looked up at him, the room dim in the evening light, but his eyes were bright with the weight of his emotions. “I don’t know if I can…” My voice wavered, as if speaking the words out loud might make them more real, more permanent. “I don’t know how to tell you.”

He didn’t rush me. He just sat there, steady, waiting. “You don’t have to do it all at once, but I’m here, and I want to hear it. Whatever you’re ready to share.”

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat like a stone that wouldn’t budge. It was too much, too overwhelming. But his patience, the way he was just there—unwavering—made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I could say it.

I inhaled deeply, trying to steady my shaky breath. “He’s… he’s still hitting me.” The words slipped out like daggers, sharp and jagged, and I couldn’t take them back.

Chris’s face twisted in disgust, his eyes blazing with something darker, something I couldn’t quite place. His grip on my hand tightened to the point of pain, but I didn’t want him to let go. “What do you mean, still?” he spat, his voice trembling with anger. “What the hell do you mean, still hitting you? After everything? After all these years?”

I flinched, the pain of his words stinging more than I expected, but not in a bad way. Chris was angry—for me, for the things I had endured—and I needed that anger. It was the first time someone had ever been angry for me.

“He doesn’t care. He never did. He doesn’t care that I’m his daughter.” I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes again, the tightness in my chest making it hard to breathe. “I don’t know what to do. He’ll always come back. He won’t stop.”

“God, I’m so fucking mad at him right now,” Chris growled, slamming his fist down on the bed between us. “How could anyone do that to you? I don’t care if he’s your dad—no one should ever lay a finger on you. No one.”

I could see the pain in his eyes, the rage that burned there, but it was mixed with something else too—something softer. Concern, protectiveness, the desire to shield me from all of it.

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips as the tears started to fall. “He just… he can’t stop, Chris. He gets drunk, and then it’s like he doesn’t even see me anymore. He just sees someone to hurt. And I don’t know how to make it stop. I don’t know how to get out.”

I could feel the panic rising in me again, that familiar, overwhelming sense of suffocation creeping in like it always did when I thought about the fear of being stuck, of being trapped in that life. The life where I wasn’t safe, where I wasn’t even allowed to feel like I mattered.

Chris’s voice became softer, almost a whisper, but it was full of resolve. “You don’t have to go back to him, (Y/N). You don’t have to live like that. I won’t let you.” His hands gently cupped my face, as though he were trying to steady me, trying to pull me back from the edge I felt myself teetering on. “You deserve so much more than this, and I swear to you, I’m going to help you get out of this. We’ll figure it out together.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that things could be different, that I didn’t have to go back to the house that had been my prison for so long. But the doubt gnawed at me, a constant voice in the back of my head telling me that it was all just a dream, that things would never change.

“I don’t know how,” I whispered, my breath catching in my throat again. The panic was slowly building inside me, and I couldn’t stop it. My hands began to shake violently, and I felt like I was drowning in the tightness in my chest. The room began to spin, and I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.

“Chris,” I gasped, clutching at his shirt, “I can’t breathe…”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Chris said urgently, his hands moving to my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. “Just focus on me, okay? Focus on me. You’re safe. You’re safe with me.”

But the panic didn’t stop. My chest felt tight, my heartbeat erratic, and I couldn’t seem to calm down. Every breath I took felt shallow, as though the air wasn’t getting into my lungs. I could feel the walls closing in again, just like they did every time I let myself think about what my dad had done to me.

I began to tremble uncontrollably, my hands like ice against his warm skin. My head felt light, and I had to fight the overwhelming urge to collapse.

“Chris, I can’t…” I whispered between gasps, feeling the world slipping away from me. “I’m scared. I’m scared of what will happen if I can’t get away. I’m scared of him coming after me, of never being free.”

Chris’s eyes were frantic now, but he was still holding me steady, his voice unwavering. “You’re not alone in this, (Y/N). I won’t let you go through this alone, okay? You’re safe now. You’re with me. We’ll figure this out, I promise.”

He moved his hands down to my back, rubbing slow circles as he whispered over and over again, “Breathe. Just breathe. In… out… You’re okay. You’re going to be okay. I won’t let him hurt you again. I won’t let him hurt you anymore.”

I tried to focus on his voice, to let the steady rhythm of his words ground me, but my body wouldn’t stop shaking. My breath was still shallow, and I felt like I was drowning in the memories, in the fear of my dad’s hands on me, of his voice shouting at me, of the pain I’d felt when he told me I wasn’t worth anything.

But then, slowly, my breath started to steady. The panic began to recede, and I was left trembling in Chris’s arms, my chest heaving, but the overwhelming tightness starting to fade.

“You’re okay,” Chris said softly, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “You’re here with me. You’re safe. I’m not going anywhere.”

I closed my eyes, clinging to him like he was the only thing that could keep me from falling apart. But as much as I tried to believe it—tried to believe him—there was still a part of me that felt like I was trapped. Still a part of me that didn’t know how to escape the life I’d been born into.

But with Chris’s arms around me, his warmth seeping into me, I felt like maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something different.

The room felt quieter now, the oppressive weight of my panic slowly lifting as Chris’s steady presence calmed the storm inside me. His arms, strong but gentle, still wrapped around me, and for the first time since I’d entered his house, I felt a sense of calm begin to settle deep in my chest. The world outside might still be chaotic, but here, in this space with him, I was allowed to be broken. I didn’t have to hide. And for once, that thought didn’t scare me—it comforted me.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, my voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to freak out on you like that.”

Chris shook his head softly, pulling me a little closer. “You don’t ever have to apologize for that,” he said quietly, his voice calm but firm, as if wanting to erase the guilt I felt. “You’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling. I’m just glad you’re here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

I leaned into him, feeling his warmth seep through the thin fabric of my hoodie. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my ear was grounding. It was like listening to the sound of something real and tangible, something that wasn’t connected to the chaos that always seemed to follow me. His love, his presence—everything about him was real, and it was one of the only things I felt I could rely on.

The minutes stretched on, and gradually, the shaking in my body slowed. My breath deepened, and though I still felt raw, the sharpness of the panic attack had dulled into a more manageable ache. It was as though, piece by piece, I was learning to breathe again.

“Are you feeling better?” Chris asked after a moment, his voice low and careful, as if afraid to disturb the delicate balance we had found. He pulled back slightly to look at me, his eyes searching mine for any sign of distress.

I nodded, but my voice still trembled. “Yeah… just a little… dizzy. But better. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Chris murmured, wiping a stray tear from my cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I’m just glad I could help. You’re not alone, (Y/N). You never will be again.”

I swallowed hard, trying to suppress the lump in my throat. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “You’ve always been there for me, Chris. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

“Stop saying that,” he said firmly, his tone soft but resolute. “You’ve always deserved it. You deserve every bit of love and care in the world, (Y/N). You deserve to feel safe. You deserve to heal.”

His words lingered in the air between us, and for a moment, I felt a wave of gratitude rush over me. It was hard for me to accept that kind of love, to believe I was worthy of it, but I didn’t want to push him away anymore. Not when he was trying so hard to give me something I’d never had before.

We sat there for a while, neither of us saying much, just being in each other’s presence. It felt like time had slowed down in the most comforting way possible. The panic that had felt suffocating now seemed like a distant memory, and I realized, with a twinge of bittersweetness, how much I had missed moments like this. Moments where I didn’t have to pretend to be something I wasn’t.

Chris cleared his throat after a while, breaking the silence. “You know, I’ve missed this,” he said quietly, his fingers gently tracing the back of my hand. “I’ve missed having you around. I missed having you sleep over.”

My heart skipped a beat at his words. The memories of spending nights at his house, hiding away from the world, were so much clearer now. There was comfort in those late-night talks, in the sound of his brothers’ laughter echoing through the house, in the feeling of being part of something that wasn’t broken. Something that made me forget the things I had to escape at home.

“I missed it too,” I replied, the words escaping before I could stop them. “It was the only time I felt like… like I had a family, you know? Like I was safe.”

Chris’s gaze softened, and for a moment, I could see the tenderness in his eyes. “You are family, (Y/N),” he said. “You always have been. You’re just as much a part of us as Matt, Nick, and me. Don’t ever doubt that.”

I felt a lump in my throat at his words. It was hard to accept that kind of care, but somehow, with him, it didn’t feel as impossible. It felt like it might actually be real. “You guys were always the closest thing to family I had,” I said, my voice quieter now. “When I stayed at your house, it was like everything else faded away. Like I could breathe for the first time in so long.”

“I know,” he said, his voice soft, yet tinged with an almost protective edge. “That’s why I want you to come over more. And stay as long as you want, okay?”

I nodded, the idea of having a constant refuge growing more and more appealing. “I really appreciate you, Chris. More than you know.”

He smiled then, a small, soft smile, but it was enough to make my heart flutter. “You don’t need to thank me,” he said, reaching over and squeezing my hand gently. “You’re worth it. You’ve always been worth it.”

The words hung between us, and for a moment, I let myself believe them. I had spent so long thinking I wasn’t worthy of love, of care, but with Chris, it felt like I might just be wrong.

Chris then leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I was thinking… if you’re comfortable with it, you could sleep over tonight. We have a guest room, but if you want, you can sleep in my room too. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”

The thought of sleeping under the same roof as him, of being so close to him, made my heart race in ways I didn’t quite understand yet. But the idea of being in a space where I could truly rest—without the constant tension and fear of home—sounded like a dream.

“I… I’d like that,” I said softly, the words barely leaving my lips before Chris’s face broke into a smile.

“Good,” he said, his voice warmer now. “It’s settled, then. You’re staying.”

I smiled back at him, feeling a surge of appreciation flood through me. “Thank you. Really.”

Chris leaned in to kiss the top of my head, his breath warm against my hair. “You’re welcome. Now, go get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

The night was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning, the occasional creak of the house settling, and the faint sounds of traffic from outside. The room was dimly lit, soft moonlight streaming through the curtains. I stood by Chris’s door, my fingers tracing the edge of the frame, unsure of what to do next.

Chris had already prepared the guest room for me. The bed was neatly made, the pillows fluffed. But as I stood there, I realized something—something I hadn’t admitted to myself until now: I didn’t want to sleep alone. Not tonight. Not after everything that had happened.

I glanced over at Chris, who was sitting on the edge of his bed. His eyes were soft, yet filled with that familiar protectiveness I had come to rely on. He’d given me the option of sleeping in the guest room, but he didn’t press it. He just watched me, waiting for me to make up my mind. And somehow, that quiet patience made everything feel a little easier.

“Are you sure?” he asked gently, his voice low. “You don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

I nodded slowly, swallowing the knot in my throat. “I want to stay with you,” I whispered. The words felt vulnerable, like I was admitting something I’d been too afraid to admit even to myself. But as I looked at him, something in me softened. I didn’t have to be afraid here. Not with him.

Chris didn’t respond right away. He just smiled a little, that soft, comforting smile of his, the one that always made me feel like maybe everything wasn’t so broken after all. He patted the bed beside him, a simple invitation. “Come on then. Get comfortable.”

I hesitated, standing there in the middle of the room, still holding the hem of my oversized hoodie, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety. I had spent so many nights alone in my own bed, trying to sleep through the memories of my father’s anger, the shouts, the pounding fists, the feeling of being trapped in a house that never felt like home. But tonight, I wasn’t alone. Not really.

I crawled into the bed, my body feeling stiff, not quite sure what to do next. Chris kept his distance at first, settling in on his side of the bed, turning on his side to face away from me. His back was to me, but I could feel the space between us. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t the closeness I longed for either. I needed something more than distance, more than just his presence across the room.

I reached out tentatively, my hand brushing the edge of his shirt, and in a soft whisper, I said, “Chris?”

His body tensed for a split second, but he didn’t turn around. Instead, his voice was low, a little rough. “Yeah?”

“I… I don’t want to be alone tonight,” I said, barely able to form the words. The truth was, I was scared. Scared of the nightmares that might come, scared of the darkness and what it might bring. But more than that, I was scared of being vulnerable, of needing someone and not knowing how to ask for it.

Chris’s response was immediate. He turned around slowly, facing me, his expression soft, understanding. He didn’t say anything right away, but instead, he reached out, gently guiding me toward him. “You’re not alone, (Y/N). Not anymore,” he whispered, his voice full of conviction.

It wasn’t like I was scared—no, that wasn’t it—but there was a strange sense of comfort in being this close to someone who truly cared. Still, the distance between us remained for a moment, and I couldn’t help but feel a little unsure of myself.

Chris didn’t press, though. He just stayed where he was, pulling the covers up around him. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but I found myself inching closer, seeking the warmth of his body, the connection I had been craving but too scared to ask for.

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him moving toward the small dresser by the bed. He started to unbutton his shirt, unaware that I was watching.

The suddenness of it made my heart skip a beat. My gaze followed his every movement, captivated by the way his body moved as he shed his shirt. He wasn’t being flashy or deliberate; it was just natural for him, the way he carried himself with a quiet confidence that made my stomach twist in the best way. I could see the muscles in his back shift as he pulled the shirt over his head, his toned body now exposed to the dim light of the room.

I hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected the moment of stillness where I could appreciate him in his simplest form. He wasn’t trying to impress me, wasn’t posing or playing it up. It was just him.

And for the first time, I truly saw him. The sculpted shoulders, the defined muscles along his arms, the way his skin seemed to glow under the soft light, the gentle curve of his back. Everything about him was perfect. So perfectly human, so real, that it almost overwhelmed me.

Chris turned toward me then, his chest now bare, and I quickly looked away, my face flushing as I realized I had been staring. But before I could feel embarrassed, I caught him looking at me, that mischievous smile curling up at the corners of his lips.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice teasing but with an underlying softness. He knew exactly what I was thinking.

I swallowed, trying to find words. “I, uh… you look perfect,” I mumbled, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

He chuckled, not at all fazed by my awkwardness. “You’re the only one who thinks so.” He reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down with ease and slipping into a fresh pair before sliding back into bed beside me.

But there was a softness in his movements now, a tenderness that came with his willingness to let me see him—let me in. He wasn’t just showing me his body, but his trust. And that meant more than anything.

As he settled back into bed, he turned toward me, the space between us finally closing as he reached out a hand. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his voice so gentle that it made my heart ache.

I nodded, this time more certain. “I’m okay. I just… I missed being close to someone. To you.”

And then, he opened his arms.

I didn’t hesitate this time. My heart pounded in my chest, and with a mix of relief and hesitance, I scooted closer, curling up against his chest. The warmth of his body was comforting, a quiet reassurance that I wasn’t in this fight alone. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me in, his embrace tight but not suffocating. I felt his breath on the top of my head, steady and rhythmic, like a heartbeat.

For a moment, everything felt safe. The chaos of my mind, the pain of my past, all of it seemed to fade away as I listened to the sound of Chris’s heartbeat, the steady thrum of life that was so different from the anger and fear I’d been accustomed to. He was here, and for tonight, that was enough.

I let out a long, shaky breath, feeling my body relax in his arms. But I still couldn’t help the thoughts that crept into my mind—the way I felt so small in his arms, how much I had lost, and how little I had ever felt cared for. But then, as if sensing my discomfort, Chris moved slightly, adjusting his position so that we were closer, my head resting on his chest. His hand gently began to stroke my hair, his fingers threading through the strands in a slow, comforting rhythm.

His fingers continued to gently play with my hair, and I could feel the soft, steady rhythm of his hand. It was so soothing, the motion familiar in a way I couldn’t explain. It felt like home, like something I’d been searching for without even knowing it. His scent, that familiar cologne mixed with the clean scent of soap, enveloped me, and for the first time in so long, I felt like I could breathe.

His hand reached for mine then, his fingers lacing with mine in the quiet dark of the room. The simple connection was grounding, and as he pulled me closer, I felt something shift. I had been running from the past for so long, so afraid of what was behind me that I hadn’t realized how desperate I was for the present. For someone who cared.

“Your hair smells so good,” I said quietly, a small smile tugging at my lips. I had never noticed how comforting his scent was before. It was like a reassurance I hadn’t realized I needed.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine. “It’s just shampoo,” he teased, but I could tell he was pleased by my words. He continued to play with my hair, the action so tender that it almost made me feel like I was someone worth caring for.

“It’s not just shampoo,” I said softly, lifting my head a little to look at him. “It’s you. You’re… comforting, Chris. It’s like… I feel safe when I’m with you.”

I leaned my head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath me calming the frantic pulse of my own. His arm wrapped around me as I settled more fully against him. I could feel his breath on the top of my head as he shifted, pulling me just a little closer.

“You know, I could get used to this,” I said, the words slipping out before I could fully process them. “I missed sleeping over at your house… when I could just escape home for a bit.”

Chris stiffened for a moment, as if processing my words. Then, he ran his fingers through my hair gently, his touch so soft that it almost felt like he was tracing the contours of my soul.

“I know,” he said quietly. “You’re welcome here anytime, (Y/N). Don’t ever feel like you can’t come over. It was never about just ‘hanging out,’ you know? I care about you. I always have.”

My chest tightened at his words, the weight of them sinking deep inside me. I closed my eyes, trying to take in the comfort of his embrace, trying to let myself believe him. I could feel the warmth of his body against mine, the quiet strength that emanated from him, and it made me feel safe in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.

The words settled in my heart like a balm, soothing the wounds that had never quite healed. I felt his fingers moving slowly through my hair again, and this time, there was no rush. Just us, wrapped in the quiet security of knowing that we didn’t have to face the world alone.

As the night stretched on, I felt myself relax more, his steady breath and gentle touch lulling me into a peaceful stillness. He kept playing with my hair, his hand brushing over my forehead, smoothing out any lingering tension. The rhythm of his movements was comforting, and I found myself drifting, my eyelids growing heavier as I rested against his chest.

“I don’t ever want to leave,” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper now, sleep creeping in.

“You don’t have to,” Chris replied softly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Stay as long as you need.”

And with that, I let myself fall into the warmth of his embrace, the first true rest I’d had in what felt like a lifetime.

“I don’t deserve you,” I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips, but somehow, they felt true.

Chris pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt my chin up so I could see his face. “You deserve everything, (Y/N). More than you know. Don’t ever forget that.”

I felt a lump form in my throat, but instead of pushing it down, I let it rise. Tears welled in my eyes as I looked at him, my heart aching with the need to express how much his words meant to me.

“You’re too good to me,” I said, voice breaking. “I don’t know how to repay you for all of this.”

He smiled softly, brushing a stray tear away from my cheek. “You don’t need to repay me. Just… let me be here for you. That’s all.”

His voice was so steady, so comforting, and as he pulled me back into his chest, I felt everything fall into place. For the first time in years, I didn’t feel so alone.

With Chris by my side, I had everything I needed.

A/N: Hey, loves! 💖 First off, thank you so much for making it this far. Your support honestly means the world to me, and I can't thank you enough. I know this chapter feels a little more low-key and maybe even rushed—life’s been a bit chaotic on my end—but I really wanted to take the time to dig deeper into the characters and their emotions. A special thanks to @bernardsbendystraws for being such an inspiration to this fic. You’ve truly helped shape the direction of this story!

This chapter touches on some really heavy topics, especially around eating disorders, and I hope it gets recognition! It's a difficult subject to navigate, but it's so important to shed light on it. I appreciate all of you who stick with me and support these moments in the story. You all keep me going!

If you or someone you care about is struggling with anorexia, please reach out to the helpline at [National Eating Disorders Association Helpline: 1-800-931-2237 or text "NEDA" to 741741]. You are not alone, and there is always support available when you need it.

taglist: @swagalicious260 @watercolorskyy @coquettechris @lovesturni0l0s @christmastreecake @ellbowmacaroni @blog-luvdance @sophand4n4 @meg4-matt44

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[girl-next-door-writes]

Amidst the Chaos

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: A glimpse or ‘normal’ might just give Dean the space to figure out what he feels and how to tell you.

Word Count: 1276 words

Prompts: Library. Mutual pining. A hug that lingers.

A/N: This one is for @roseblue373. A very merry holiday season my friend. I hope you enjoy this.

The ski resort buzzed with energy, laughter ringing through the crisp mountain air as snowflakes swirled lazily from the sky. Twinkling Christmas lights adorned every corner, and the scent of pine and cocoa seemed to follow you wherever you went. You tightened your scarf against the chill and glanced around, wondering where Dean had wandered off to. He had a knack for disappearing in the middle of your adventures, only to reappear with some grand excuse or, more often, snacks.

This trip had been Sam’s idea. He’d insisted you and Dean needed a break from hunting, a chance to experience something “normal” for once. While Dean had grumbled about it being a waste of time, you’d caught the faintest hint of excitement in his eyes when Sam had mentioned the ski resort. It wasn’t often Dean let his guard down, but you’d hoped this trip might coax out the softer side of him—the one you secretly adored.

“There you are,” a familiar voice said, and you turned to find Dean striding toward you, his green eyes bright against the winter backdrop. He was holding two cups of hot chocolate, steam curling into the cold air.

“Took you long enough,” you teased, accepting the cup he offered.

He smirked, his cheeks tinged pink from the cold. “I got held up. Some kid tried to swipe my marshmallows. Had to defend my honor.”

You rolled your eyes, sipping the rich, sweet drink. “Right. Because nothing says ‘Dean Winchester’ like battling a seven-year-old over hot chocolate.”

“Hey,” he said, mock-offended. “That kid was scrappy.”

Laughing, you bumped your shoulder against his. “Thanks for this, by the way. I needed it.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you. “Yeah. Me too.”

The next few days passed in a blur of snowy adventures. You’d managed to convince Dean to try skiing, which had been equal parts hilarious and terrifying. He’d started out cocky, insisting it couldn’t be that hard, only to end up sprawled in the snow after his first attempt.

“You okay down there?” you called, trying and failing to hide your laughter.

“I’m just taking a rest is all.” He huffed.

“A rest? In the wet snow?” You smirked

He pushed himself up, snow clinging to his jacket and hair, and shot you a mock glare. “You say that like it’s a bad thing to take a break.”

“Break?” you said, arching an eyebrow. “You’ve been on the ground more than you’ve been on your skis.”

“I’m just…assessing the terrain,” he said, brushing snow off his gloves. “You know, making sure it’s safe for you.”

“How noble of you,” you teased, offering him a hand.

He took it, his grip warm and steady despite the cold, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his fingers lingered just a moment longer than necessary. It sent a shiver down your spine, though it had nothing to do with the weather.

By Christmas Eve, the resort had transformed into a winter wonderland. Strings of lights twinkled in every tree, and a massive Christmas tree stood in the center of the main plaza, its ornaments reflecting the golden glow of the fire pits scattered around.

You and Dean had spent the day exploring the quieter trails around the resort, enjoying the rare peace. As the sun set, painting the snow-capped peaks in shades of pink and orange, you found yourselves at the lodge’s outdoor terrace, overlooking the slopes.

“Pretty view,” you said, leaning against the wooden railing.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, his voice softer than usual. You turned to find him looking at you, not the mountains.

Your cheeks warmed, and you quickly looked away, focusing on the falling snow. “So,” you said, trying to lighten the mood, “what’s the verdict? Are ski resorts better than hunting demons?”

“Tough call,” he said, stepping closer. “I mean, the food’s definitely better. And the company’s not half bad.”

You laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet night. “Not half bad, huh? I’ll take it.”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You know,” he said, his tone turning serious, “I’m not great at this kind of stuff.”

“What stuff?” you asked, your heart pounding.

“The…normal stuff,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “Holidays, relaxing, just…being. It’s not exactly my wheelhouse.”

“You’re doing fine,” you said softly.

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and you felt like he could see every thought you’d ever had about him.

“You make it easier,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could respond, a sudden burst of laughter and music from the lodge broke the moment. Dean stepped back, his usual mask slipping into place.

“C’mon,” he said, his tone light again. “Let’s grab some food before Sam eats it all.”

Later that night, you found yourself alone in the lodge’s library. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the rows of books. You’d come here for some quiet, needing a moment to process the way Dean had looked at you earlier. It had been different, more intense, like he was on the verge of saying something important.

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear him approach until he was right behind you.

“Figured I’d find you here,” he said, his voice low and warm.

You turned to see him standing there, hands in his jacket pockets, his expression unreadable. “Couldn’t sleep?” you asked.

He shook his head, stepping closer. “Nah. Too much on my mind.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Dean Winchester, overthinking? Never thought I’d see the day.”

He chuckled, but it was short-lived. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he said, his tone suddenly serious.

Your heart skipped a beat. “What is it?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I… I’m not good at this, so I’m just gonna say it. Being here, with you, it’s the best thing I’ve had in a long time. And it scares the hell out of me, because I don’t want to screw it up.”

You stared at him, your chest tight with emotion. “Dean…”

“You mean a lot to me,” he continued, his voice rough with emotion. “More than I know how to say. And I get if that’s… too much. But I needed you to know.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, without thinking, you closed the distance between you and wrapped your arms around him. He froze, surprised, before hugging you back, his arms strong and steady around you.

The hug lingered, neither of you wanting to let go. His hand slid up to cup the back of your head, his touch gentle despite the strength in his grip.

“You’re not screwing anything up,” you murmured against his chest.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his green eyes searching yours. “You sure about that?”

“Positive,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

And then, before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned up and kissed him. His lips were warm and soft against yours, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away. When you finally pulled back, he was staring at you like you’d just flipped his entire world upside down.

“What was that for?” he asked, though his lips curved into a small smile.

“For being you,” you said simply.

He grinned, pulling you back into his arms.

As the fire crackled and the snow fell outside, you stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms, savouring the quiet and the promise of something new. Amidst the chaos of your lives, this moment was yours, and it was perfect.

[uchu-no-bashira]

How Can I stay Mad At You? - Husband!Gyomei x Black!Fem Reader

Authors Note: Another one from the archives. You guys and your Gyomei head canons, I don't think you all know how long I've been waiting for you lmfao 💜

TW: MOB AU Gyomei, I love you mentioned, Husband Gyomei, Domestic Fluff, Black Character, AAVE, Reader is African American because I sad so 💜

You stop speaking and set down the towel that you were folding to look at Gyomei, who had just walked in the house from work. He was silent as the sound of heavy footsteps and wall-trailing fingers made their way through the house and into the bathroom. You continue your chores, your mind boggling at the fact that he didn't so much as speak to you, but maybe it was just a long day.

When he emerged from the bathroom, your eyes couldn't help but study the rippling biceps and finely built waistline as he meandered into the laundry room. You remain silent, returning the energy given when he first walked in and refusing to reward his seemingly rude behavior. You'd been married to him for 5 years now, he know you don't play that 'not speaking when you enter a room' shit.

After he puts on his pajama bottoms, he makes his way back to where he now heard the sound of clothes being angrily fluffed. He knew you were upset and disliked breaking a routine, it was his fault for promising a kiss each time he would leave the house and each time he would return regardless of mood. You continue to fold the last bit of clothing before being interrupted by burly forearms snaking around your waist. The muscle in your jaw clenches as you inhale deeply.

"Gyomei. You better have a good reason for not lovin' on me when you entered our home." You annunciate. The sentence coming out clearly so that he doesn't miss a single syllable that was laced with slight irritation.

"I wanted to do it properly. I didn't want to bring the stress of today to your shoulders." He says fluently as if he'd practiced his response. Regardless, it worked, causing you to turn around in his arms and gaze into sightless eyes. They were oddly soft, not in a tired way like normal but in a more comforting way. His clouded white irises stay focused on you as if he were scanning over your frame. It makes your heart stumble a bit. You could have sworn that this man could see, but you knew – partially – that that wasn’t true. After a thoughtful silence, you address him nervously.

"Look, I'm sorry. I'm just not used to you walking in without speakin'. Are you okay?" You mumble, resting your forearms upon his chest while tracing his pectorals with the tip of your finger. Your attention is captured by two large hands slowly making their way to your cheeks, cupping them as he pulls you in for a forehead kiss. Two calloused thumbs brush beneath your eyes for a moment before one of his hands trails wistfully down your neck.

When he speaks again, his pressing, baritone voice commands your undivided attention.

"I'm alright, my love. Today was just a bit too long for my liking. I just want to spend a bit of time holding you. Is that alright?” He states in a loving, sultry tone as the thumb on your cheek comes down to your plump bottom lip, pressing it down gently as if to test its fullness. The same lips he pressed on, curled into a beautiful smirk upon hearing his reasoning.

He felt that at this moment, he should start showing you, his wife, a bit more affection than he had been since his work schedule took over. It seemed to reduce him to making poorly made promise of just two kisses a day when in actuality; he wanted more. His mind clings to the fact that you have always been accepting of his lifestyle and you were a perfect match for him, as if you were a gift to him from God.

While thinking, the hand on your neck travels affectionately along the length of your forearm to your hands where he places his palm against your own. A soft chuckle escapes your chest as you compare hand sizes, his vastly larger compared to yours. Without thinking, you draw a smiley face into his palm, grinning playfully with the tip of your tongue resting between your teeth.

"What did I draw?"

"Hmm… A rabbit?"

You giggle loudly, shaking your head before rubbing your hand against his to 'erase' your previous drawing. You think for a minute before slowly tracing a heart. As you trace, you notice how coarse his hands actually were, then begin to appreciate just how hard he works for you, especially when the job he does is what rewards your lavish and expensive tastes that he doesn't question in the slightest.

You assumed that being a part of the mafia wasn't easy in the slightest and would explain his early morning departures and late night returns. After you trace the tail end of the heart, you kiss the middle of his palm, coercing him to hum.

"That one is easy. You wrote your name." He responds with a soft smirk.

"Gyomei, you know damn well it was a shape." You guffaw while rolling your eyes.

"It was a heart. And, considering you are my heart I would say that you wrote your name." He states earnestly.

Your pretty brown cheeks fill with heat as you place your palm into his again, this time placing your fingers into the space of his and gripping his hand. "Smooth talker. I fucking love you, Gyomei."

"I love you too. You know that." He states before returning your grasp and leaning into a kiss. It lasts for a few moments, the sound of crashing lips fill the air and soft giggles could be heard throughout the living room as you remove your hand from his and drape your arms around his neck. As time passed, the previous giggles had turned into feverish moans and your listless arms were now fingers gripping Gyomei's shoulders.

He speaks between your kisses, smiling against your lips as as he nuzzles his nose against yours. "I've… Missed you… So much."

"Me too~" You respond breathily, reluctantly removing yourself from him to grab his hand and start to lead him to the bedroom enthusiastically, almost tripping over your own feet only to be caught by the loving giant.

"Slow down, we'll get there…" He teases.

[hms-no-fun]

so, (SPOILERS FOR FIONNA AND CAKE but its relevant to the question but im gonna put a bunch of line breaks just in case lol)

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so fionna and cake ended with fionna basically being like, you know, youre RIGHT god, if magic came back my wish would simply be twisted and it would suck, there will be no rule breaking miracles! I will now work as a struggling minimum wage employee in seattle and Be Happy about it. i sure am glad the threat of losing everyone i know and love set me straight!! sorry to send u this really random thing the ending just felt like such a slap in the face and i wanted to ask someone who knows that exact Seattle Struggle. this is absolutely me appealing to the Writing Gods to back me up that the ending wasnt very good lmao but if i have a direct line to the craftsgoat i simply must use it for something stupid at least once

FULL SERIES SPOILERS FOR FIONNA & CAKE AFTER THE BREAK!!!

i really disagree with your read on the ending. it didn't feel like "just struggle with seattle minimum wage forever and be happy about it" at all to me! the whole instigating incident was that fionna wanted to transform reality into something that she personally thought would be better, without taking into account the fact that other people exist and have internal lives just as complex as hers. she comes back to her original world to find marshall and gary holding hands, explains to them the magical adventure she's been on and the fact that their world is about to transform into something unrecognizably magical, and they receive this with abject horror! fionna doesn't know whether simon becoming ice king again will erase marhsall & gary's burgeoning relationship, which makes her realize that in her quest to escape the boring, oppressive reality of working odd jobs to make ends meet, she's only ever focused that energy on how to make things better for her.

i really want to dig into this because it's a key theme of the show. there is a destructive selfishness innate to the "heroes" of this universe, who feel entitled to the joyous empowerment of being able to defeat anyone and everyone they see in open combat. cake has a whole musical number about this! simon's arc in the last two episodes was betty grabbing him and shaking him until he finally asked himself, how would my life have been different if i'd just once let the woman i loved steer the ship for a while? and then of course we see the lich in a reality where he succeeded in eradicating all life, only to find himself desiccated and without purpose, begging the god of chaos for an answer it cannot give. brian david gilbert's ice prince seems perfectly put together and successful, until the reveal that he's outsourced his madness to someone who didn't accept the terms of the crown's curse. this didn't solve the fundamental problem, it just inverted the roles of its expression by making princess bubblegum into the mad candy queen. nothing about the status quo has changed, simon has simply given himself a more dignified role in it.

this is a story about what happens when people in struggle behave as though they are the protagonist of reality. when fionna says "this is the world i want to fight for" she's not fighting for the right to get another shitty minimum wage job. i think you've really missed something by accepting that conclusion when cake the cat is right there saying that her magical self IS the version of herself she wants to live as. being a normal house cat for her was, arguably, a form of body dysmorphia, and the show lets her keep that magic at the end! the thing is, their world IS changed by the events of the show! the status quo is altered!

like, what do we actually see everyone DOING when the credits approach? we see this entire disconnected community banding together to rebuild the city together, and we see a huge crowd of protesters outside marshall's mom's place demanding that she lower rents. we see people connecting with other people, including three outcasts from other universes escaping to this more boring one for their own safety. i loved this ending honestly, because it felt to me like an attempted refutation of the very idea that you can magically transform reality into something better overnight. if fionna'd gotten her original wish and made her world into, like, candy world, then... what? let's say they play it as like, at last people are freed from the shackles of capitalism and everyone just gets to be weird funky critters going on adventures or whatever. what would that, as art, actually say? what would that mean to us in the real world? if we're going into this cartoon looking for some kind of revolutionary energy (which IS present in the text, much to its credit), what actionable or symbolically resonant message are we supposed to take from a story that resolves its problems with magic? at that point, it ceases to be relevant as anything more than pure fantasy, because it has abandoned any connection to the material reality WE are trapped in.

i don't want to magically transform the world overnight. this whole show goes out of its way to explore how trying to transform the world overnight, in a world where such a thing is possible, is a really fucking bad idea for a whole host of reasons. regardless, such things aren't possible in our world. so going into the finale, my worry was that they WOULD turn fionna's world into another candy world and just say, ah, the revolution is when you think the right things so hard that the material plane bends to your will.

that's neoliberal thinking. that's like the essence of the failed leftist project of the "end of history" era from the 90s onwards, when marxism was systematically rooted out of academic cultural analysis and replaced with the delusion that if you can just get people thinking the right things, you can affect change in the world. well here we are, it's 2023 and all that magical thinking has got us is a world on fire and a civilization of human beings so thoroughly disempowered that they would literally rather pretend to be a tortured anime protagonist than exist in this boring, shitty, violent reality. you can't think your way out of oppression. raising labor consciousness is, at best, step one. you want to know why unions are winning big right now when they've been completely useless in this country for decades? it's because they've stopped giving a shit about optics they can't control and remembered that the boss's value does not exist without labor. you do not necessarily need marxism for this, marxism is simply the most accurate articulation of the fact that workers who make the things a capitalist sells can kneecap the capitalist by refusing to make the things they want to sell. change doesn't happen with the publishing of a book or whatever, it happens when enough people in real life press their material demands hard enough that someone in charge is left no choice but to listen.

so for me, fionna & cake ending the way it did was a huge relief, because it wasn't espousing magical thinking. the solution to fionna's ennui and economic anxiety was not to just get another job and be happy to live in the world as it was-- it was to create a sense of shared community and struggle, uniting the not-seattleites in their survival of a near-apocalypse and using it as a jumping off point for fundamentally transforming the state of that world as it exists. fionna had to realize that her problems are everyone's problems, and that making her life personally better at the expense of everyone else's agency is just an act of kicking the can of responsibility down the road indefinitely. no one who gets their wish in this show is happy to have gotten it, or avoids punishing others who didn't ask to be involved.

the "canonization" of fionna & cake felt like a reaction to the idea that we in our world are permanently isolated from the fictional realities we create where change seems to come so easy, and the powerlessness that can engender. instead this show is saying, okay, let's say we are in continuity with these fantastical realities. what do we actually DO with that? how do we make this world more fun, more interesting, more fulfilling for everyone to live in? the answer is the same as it's always been, and no other answer would ever feel satisfying: you do it by organizing the workers against the current arrangement of the state with the explicit goal of transforming it for the better.

what does simon do at the end when he gives fionna her world to her? he says that no one person should have that responsibility, that it's been in one person's hands for too long. so he gives it to her in the form of a dandelion, whose blown seeds merge with and become part of everyone trying to survive the scarab's attack. the idea here is that while no single person ever possesses the power to transform the world on their own, the world itself belongs to all of us, and it is within our power to transform it together. those who hoard power want us to believe that this is not the case precisely because the basis of their power is fraudulent and maintained through the violence of the state.

as someone who does live in seattle for better and worse, as much as i do wish i could make literally anything better right the fuck now by whatever means necessary... the fact is i can't. and it does no one any good to labor under the assumption that i or any other individual has that kind of absolute transformative power. the solutions are all right there, and they are simple, materialist propositions whose only difficulty lies in how successfully we've been propagandized to think that the individual is God, or at least speaks on His behalf. there's no thinking our way out of this pickle, and no one's gonna do the hard work for us.

as to the question of how you actually get people in real life to get together and do all that hard work... well, personally i think it's unfair to ask a 10 episode cartoon show to give you any kind of actionable advice on that front. i might even go so far as to say that such an expectation is an expression of the very same magical thinking which the show tries to push back against! in any case i liked it quite a lot and i hope this rambling answer encourages you to revisit the show and reconsider some of your takeaways

[silverynight]

Underworld

<---Previous

Part XXIII

Izuku invites Aizawa over to his house again and the god can't refuse because lately he can't say 'No' to anything the green haired demigod tells him.

"I'll stay a couple of minutes. Although I do have to talk to your mother about your training."

Inko likes Aizawa, mostly because she knows everything that god has done for her son, so she's very kind to him whenever he pays them a visit.

As soon as she sees him, she starts making tea for the three of them. Aizawa sits at the table and waits for Izuku to finish telling his mother that he wants to train.

"Train?" Inko gets slightly worried; she usually associates that word with a future conflict, otherwise why would he require training? "Is it something wrong, Izuku?"

He hesitates for a second. He considers telling his mother about Endeavor, but she has nothing to do with that and telling her would only worry her for nothing.

Besides, Izuku is almost sure Todoroki's father won't do anything like that again.

"I want to be able to protect myself."

Inko looks back at him; she knows him really well and is sure that there's something more to it, but she also finds the response reasonable enough.

"Alright, just don't get yourself in trouble," she says, right before pulling her son into her arms. Then she glances at Aizawa for a moment. "I know you have done a lot for him already, but please take care of him."

Aizawa nods, with a soft smile on his lips.

"About that, Mrs Midoriya... the first couple of weeks of his training will be here, but later I'll have to take him to the Olympus at least for a few days. Are you okay with that?"

Inko nods.

"Of course. I trust you. I know you really care about my son."

Aizawa stays there for a while and then he goes out with Izuku to explain to him some things about his training.

Actually, Izuku is very excited about it and nervous too; just a few hours ago he had no idea he could do more than making flowers bloom or taking care of trees and crops.

"I'll come back here every day for your training. I also have to talk to All Might about this, although I think he'll like the idea. He mentioned something about training you too."

Izuku gets flustered; he's so happy now. Turns out All Might have been thinking about him too! Maybe he's not that useless as a demigod as he thought he was.

"Although he's definitely not going to like what happened with Endeavor."

Narrowing his eyes with concern, Izuku takes a step closer to Aizawa.

"Do you have to tell him?"

"He has to know what happened," the god says, getting slightly angry as he remembers everything. "Besides, Endeavor needs to understand that there are consequences... he doesn't have the right to do whatever he pleases just because he's a god, especially when he's threatening another one."

Izuku nods, accepting Aizawa's decision. He then smiles and hugs him again before he leaves.

Aizawa rolls his eyes, but he hugs him back.

***

The first few days are difficult; Izuku has no idea how to focus enough to make the thorns appear again.

"That's because you were scared," Aizawa explains. "You unconsciously channeled your power in order to protect yourself. That's good in extreme circumstances, but at the same time, it's dangerous. When you let an emotion dictate what you do or how you react, you lose control over yourself."

Izuku nods, remembering being scared of himself too; not knowing how to pull back the vines.

"When you do something with a clear mind, you have control over your own actions."

Then Aizawa decides to stop focusing on the vines and asks Izuku to help trees grow for a while and explain out loud how he does it.

It's strange at first; he's so used to it he mostly ignores the steps in order to achieve what he wants.

"I can feel this tree's energy," he explains, surprised by his own response. "I just give it more to accelerate the process of its growth. I visualize it in my mind."

Aizawa nods and just observes what Izuku usually does on a normal day in his own field.

The next day, he asks Izuku to make a couple of vines grow from the ground. This time, Izuku is a little bit more prepared for it.

It's like any other plant; nature is Izuku's friend, it has always helped him when he needs it the most.

He just needs to be kind and ask gently.

The demigod takes a deep breath, and focuses on what he can see in front of him. Slowly, a vine grows from the ground and stops when it gets as tall as Izuku. But it's only one and it doesn't have thorns on it.

"Good. That's progress," Aizawa smiles at Izuku, looking proud. "Now, you have to do that at least ten times more. It's okay if it doesn't have thorns, at least for now."

Izuku ends up exhausted, but he's happy about the results; not all of the vines are as tall as him, but he manages to get one to curl around a tree. Although, he thinks it was mostly luck, but he gets excited about it nonetheless.

It's not going to be easy, but it's satisfying when he manages to get something right.

***

After a week Katsuki comes to pay him a visit while he's in the middle of a training session; the vines he's managing to make grow are not taller than him, but they have a couple of thorns now. Izuku can even make the vines move a bit.

"Oi, Izuku!"

"Kacchan!" Suddenly, the vines start growing flowers and the flowers bloom the closer the god of the dead gets.

Aizawa's brows quirk up with curiosity as he looks at Izuku and the green haired demigod immediately blushes to the tip of his ears.

Izuku wonders if Aizawa knows what's going on; he's probably the smartest deity in the Olympus. He must know something's going on.

"Alright, I think it's enough for today," Aizawa mumbles, looking from Izuku to Katsuki.

"Aizawa is training you now?" The blond god asks, a little bit surprised. "Why? Are you alright, Izuku? What's going on?"

Izuku hasn't talked to anyone about Endeavor; the other day Iida told him All Might had an argument with the other god. And said he hadn't seen All Might so angry before; he didn't know what they were arguing about, but he managed to hear All Might telling Endeavor not to get closer to Izuku again.

Izuku doesn't want Katsuki to get angry on his behalf; he doesn't want to cause any more trouble.

"I want to be able to protect myself." He says exactly what he told his mother.

"Alright, but... I just want you to know I'm here for you too, if you... need help," Katsuki is usually proud and confident, but that day he looks particularly flustered.

Izuku finds it endearing; a couple of flowers bloom around them and Katsuki notices, looking at them with curiosity.

"I'll leave you alone for now, but I'll come back tomorrow," Aizawa says then.

Izuku nods, making the vines go back to the ground as his cheeks turn slightly pink again.

Katsuki takes one of his hands and stares into his eyes with a soft smile; his cheeks are pink too.

"I missed you, Izuku."

Izuku can't help but jump into his arms; he pulls him close to give him a hug and realizes that his crush on him is getting worse. And yet he doesn't let go of him.

***

Next--->

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[a-d-nox]

pac/pap: what bad habit(s) are you struggling with? what happens when you drop your bad habit(s)? what to keep in mind as you break your bad habit(s)?

take what resonates leave what doesn't - nothing is 100% for you because these aren't personalized so please no angry comments or dms about what i am saying not being a good fit for you or that you "don't claim" just keep scrolling if that is the case. be kind, self reflect, and have fun.

last pac/pap: what is the energy that surrounds you and how can you best protect your energy?

masterlist of pap/pac posts

want a personal reading? click here to check out my reading options and prices!

pile one

procrastination. i have the feeling that you have a lot of goals and hopes that end up being "broken" or "abandoned" dreams. you likely try to take on too much all at once - you likely have the bad habit of start a lot of tasks but then not finishing anything. this likely causes you frustration because of the lack of progress you see leads to you feeling uninspired. then you start procrastinating on your goals and hopes - its a vicious cycle that you are in.

when you free yourself from procrastination, you will have hope once more. you'll turn a corner and start making dreams into reality - you'll stop mourning what could have been and instead see the possibility of what could be. right now you seem to be focusing on projects that are only half finished - if you focus on one project, determine how you can finish it, and then finish it - you will gain your momentum back.

as you face your procrastination know that you are intelligent and wise. you can make decisions and plans that will make these projects worthwhile. use logic instead of emotions you are likely thinking too much about what others will think/feel and no enough about the logistics of how you can get the project done.

pile two

projection, double-standards, and self-deception. i get the sense that you are struggling to see things as they truly are. you likely are in a holding pattern - it all feels the same because you aren't doing anything different. you must do internal work and break cycles in order to see progress. you have the ability to adapt and evolve, you simply need to allow yourself to do so. i sense there is some self-deception going on as well - i have a feeling that you are judging others inconsistencies and irregularities without evaluating your own. it's scary to confront the lies you tell yourself, the fear you feel, and what you feel ashamed of in your life at this moment in time - but it is time you do so. its time to reconnect with your inner self and be vulnerable. you aren't perfect and that is okay but it is not okay to not evolve and expect others to be perfect and change for you.

when you stop struggling with these inconsistencies between wanting others to be perfect and being unwilling to grow and change yourself, you will see that the universe is presenting you with new opportunities. in relationships, you won't be worrying that you can't find a romance like the one you perviously experienced, instead you will be looking forward to the possibilities of the future. you also won't be as afraid to share who you truly are with others. you could get a new job because you won't be as afraid to admit that the one you are currently in is not for you - you'll be more willing to take a risk and do things you perviously feared others would judge you for.

as you work on limiting behaviors and high expectations without the willingness to change yourself, remember that you to have the power to change. you can't expect others to change for you without being willing to change yourself. take risks you wouldn't normally take - stand up for what you believe in without worrying what others will think. don't be afraid to seek advice from others as you work on this aspect of your life.

pile three

accepting/making false-promises. i have a feeling that you have a bad habit of making promises/deals with strings attached. look at your own intentions as well as those you are involved with - i have a feeling you don't do that often and it only leads you or others getting hurt. if you only do things because it is to your benefit, it is time you self evaluate. you might be a bit too greedy and you might need to be more willing to give your time, money, and/or energy without expecting something in return. or you might be too giving - evaluate why you feel the need to give knowingly to those who wouldn't do the same for you.

when you stop making promises and deals with strings attached, you can start focusing on what you can control in this chaotic world. you have the tendency of thinking that you can control everything and everyone around you and that just is not true - no one has to do what they promise and when you realize that, you will be better in control of your life situation because you will be taking attention in your own life instead of waiting for others to help you or you doing things for others instead of doing things for yourself.

keep in mind while you stop waiting for others to keep there false-promises, that you have yet to make your dreams reality. i sense you are the trickiest of the piles - you are set in your belief that you need others or even the universe to bring you what you want instead of going after it yourself. you might need to take a minute and think about what you truly want but then you certainly have the ability to go after it - so do it.

[thrashkink-coven]

Hey there! I've been looking on Tumblr for someone who is experienced in ritual work with deities and isn't exclusive to Greek or Norse gods/goddesses. I've been practicing for a bit less than 3 years and I'm quite new to Demonolatry, and I don't know anyone who shares knowledge or experience on it, so I wanted to reach out for advice to someone who knows their craft. And I saw that you work with Lucifer so I was hoping you'd know about it?

I recently did a ritual (I practice traditional Demonolatry) and while I meditated I fell into a sudden trance. I've done meditation and rituals before, but this was completely new and I have never experienced this. I suddenly got scared because I didn't know what was happening and my body was moving like on it's own. Or maybe I imagined that?

I wanted to ask if this is normal, if you've ever experienced something like that? Does deep trance happen during ritual? Because I'm a bit uneasy about it and don't know how to go from here since there was a lot of energy that I didn't know where it came from and I just rushed out of the ritual. Do you have any advice or know someone who could help me? Thanks in advance.

Hi, yes! This has definitely happened to me before, most prominently when I was first really getting into my practice with Archangels. What I believe may have happened is that you had your first major "breakthrough" which is naturally unnerving because its so unnatural.

I've made a post in the past about "third eye opening techniques," and mentioned that once you start really falling into your first trance, your brain will usually snap you out of it. You'll get butterflies or feel like you're falling, and your brain will automatically make you "wake up". It may force a thought if only to make sure you can still think because your mind is so abnormally quiet; the only other time you enter this kind of "wavelength" is when you are in deep sleep, or dying. The brain is naturally averted to these things. However, in the right environment, when things align in a peculiar way, you may be more predisposed to accepting a trance. This happens most often to me when I'm seriously focused on meditating on a sigil or enn to the point where I become completely consumed with my intention of channeling a deity or spirt. This is very hard to describe with words, but you feel as though everything has stopped, you're almost a part of the environment whilst simultaneously not being "there". You're inside your body but you're not, and everything is quiet and connected.

What this really is, is a minor ego death. People who take psychedelics probably empathize easily with this feeling. Once you start learning how to counteract the natural abortive instinct, you will enter a trance like state.

The very first time I truly experienced this was with Archangel Jophiel, who has been a massive guide to me in my craft in regards to dealing with my disbelief and skepticism. I remember falling into a deep trance, in which I felt like I was no longer even in my body, but I could feel myself rising from a laying to sitting position, and when Jophiel ordered me to, I extended my hand out to him without controlling it. I immediately snapped out of it, freaked out and questioned my experience for days afterwards.

This isn't actually all that uncommon, especially in regards to deity work, mediumship and necromancy. Automatic writing for example, is a form of divination in which practitioners allow a deity or spirit to move their hand when holding a pencil. The resulting words or drawing are then interpreted by the practitioner when they have returned from the trance state.

These things can happen on accident, but its important that it's not happening unintentionally often, as this can result in developing a dissociative disorder. Grounding exercises that are typically used for things like anxiety and panic attacks can actually help very much with staying planted after a trance or an astral journey.

If you're interested in things like divination, mediumship or astral projection then practicing this skill could be very useful to you. It is a very helpful avenue for me when communicating with Lucifer. However if the idea makes you uncomfortable or distressed, using sensory tools and textures during meditation can help greatly in remaining connected to your body even while in states of deep focus. This experience is usually freaky to anyone who has it, so I wouldn't worry about it too much.

One book that I read that helped me really understand this phenomenon was "The Book of Spirit Communications" by Raymond Buckland. It speaks about the history of Mediumship as well as some techniques to practice entering trance states.

[codenamesazanka]

i dropped mha awhile ago bc it was getting a bitttt too copaganda-y for me and you are like one of three mha blogs i still follow i tuned back in again just to find out the ending im so sorry to shigaraki he shouldve at least been allowed to destroy mount fuji rip king he’ll be spitting on heroes from the skys now….. the kinda split reaction between the japanese fans and western fans is interesting to me it kinda feels like fans are reacting to two different stories? or like focused on very different aspects? anyways thanks for what you do keep it up 👍🏻

Thank you for all your follow and love for all these years!!!! <3333 i'm really happy and grateful and I hope i've kept you entertained the whole time!!!!

Yeah, BnHA is very adamant about its Heroes! So! Cool! Worship Them Like Gods! thing. Just when you think it'll be deconstructing the concept of Hero Society, All Might comes back to be fueled by the wishing energy of the world to inject acid into his opponent. Quite a choice. I'm so just in it for the villains. Sorry it didn't work out for you! And sorry you had to come back to Shigaraki ending up like that. 😭😭😭so far. He really should've been allowed to destroy Mt. Fuji.

As for the contrast between the Japanese fandom and the English-speaking fandom... I caution my observations being the whole and objective truth!

I'm much more familiar with Villain Fans Section of the English-speaking fandom; and while we're very loud and vocal, it does seem like the majority opinion is that Heroes are cool, Villains are bad, ending is acceptable. Meanwhile, I'm looking only at japanese tweets through keywords, and they're bound to be more positive because it seems like people avoid tagging their hate; anonymous message boards are freer with their criticism, but there's still never essay-length rants. I'm sure there has bound to be those existing somewhere, but with my mainly surface access into jfandom, I wouldn't know where to look for them.

Plus, there are a few people in jfandom who have the same gripes: why is Endeavor allowed to continue to be a Hero; the heteromorph resolution is majority-oriented and unfair to the minorities; the social issues aspect should've been addressed more; Deku shouldn't have invaded Shigaraki's mind like that, and it's a bit concerning that he seems to have no reaction to the total annihilation of a man in front of him, etc. Not a lot, and, as I said, not as vocal as in English-speaking fandom, but they're there.

However, from my observations, in my opinion I think there are a few key differences:

Shonen Jump is about the protag Heroes. What it is and should be. I think bnha is pointed out to be pretty uniquely sympathetic to its villains?

jfandom are much less lenient towards the Villains. They can love the League, they can criticize Heroes, but they readily acknowledge that the League have done terrible things and should be punished accordingly. Doesn't matter their sad backstories; they still hurt people and they need to pay for that. They're unforgivable. Like, the idea that Tenko killing his family - even if completely by accident, even if manipulated - is a sin no matter what and he should atone for it, is more prominent. (There are also people who will forever know Bakugou as the 'jump off the roof' bully and never forgive him no matter how much development he goes through.)

The concept of 'saving' seems to be more focused on saving the heart, freeing someone from suffering, giving them relief. It does not necessarily mean not killing them, or ever forgiving them, or ever considering them likeable.

the concept of 'the needs of the many outweighs the needs of the few' seems to also be somewhat more significant. of course the few should be accepted and treated right, and they should be accommodated, but it's best to... avoid causing trouble for other (normal) people, let's say. Sometimes, though, the few can't be made to feel accepted, and that's how things are. It's a pity. There are definitely people fighting against this idea, and English-speaking fandom isn't exempt from this either (soooo many 'wow Toga is just a psychopath' takes still existing; and also 'who cares about Muscular' even from the Villain fans), but it's a thing.

Jfandom appears to like it more that Shigaraki sticks to his guns. to the very end, he's stays true to the League; he stands by his choices and actions even if they were under undue influence; and he's a Hero to the Villains. Loyalty and a strong conviction are valued. Seems to be less fretting whether Tenko and Tomura are separate people/identities/persona. (Still a few who think 'Shimura Tenko' will come back.)

and so end result is that overall, Deku did do his job, and admirably at that. He didn't ignore The Crying Child when he could've/should've because Shigaraki was already unforgivable for his actions at Jaku (and before); he saved Shigaraki/Tenko's heart by providing relief, but that doesn't necessarily mean he needed to understand or befriend Shigaraki, or that Shigaraki should be converted (for lack of better word) and saved physically; he's a Hero who stopped a threat and saved the world; and Shigaraki disintegrating is simply just desserts.

But like I said above, it could be that those points aren't specific at all to jfandom. There are certainly a lot of people who think the ending is great and satisfying in the english-speaking fandom (and from what i've seen of machine-translated spanish/french/portuguese/etc tweets, also those fandoms). It's just the critiques are very in your face, and Villain fans are very vocal. I know I certainly am.

Thanks for the ask!!!!!

[knightyoomyoui]

JeongMi (Jeongyeon x Mina) - "Wallflower"

I'm back! I just want to say that starting from this, most of my one-shot works would have only a 2k–3k word limit, or should I say... It's going to be shorter, unlike before, when I could exceed 5,000 plus BUT I could still make it longer if i get so invested on coming up ideas to add on the story. I apologize for that. I'm just really busy these days because I'm starting to look for ways to earn my own income, which I can use to help myself and my family's needs, while also focusing on my studies because I'm officially going to be a sophomore this coming Monday.  I'm not going to have much time to write new plots, but of course, if I have the energy and free time to do so, then I will definitely do it! Wish me luck, guys!

Since I mentioned that I'm looking for a way to earn money, I will be using this hobby of mine, which is writing stories, so feel free to support me further by donating to my Ko-Fi account! Thank you so much, and have fun reading!

DROP YOUR DONATIONS HERE! ---> https://ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui

"Ohhh is that so?"

"Aww thank you."

"I appreciate your kind words."

Behind those words, the department head manager of TDOONG Creative Team, Yoo Jeongyeon, is trying her utmost best to handle her irritation with all the attention she has been getting ever since she stepped foot in this crowded room full of people who just want to have fun like her.

However, what Jeongyeon has been encountering so far makes it seem to drain her enjoyment to look forward to this particular event she attended.

She completely understood that it's pretty normal for people to approach and interact with her; all she has to do is respond and entertain them back. Sure, she may be an extrovert, but everything has its own limits, and that could apply to what Jeongyeon is referring to.

Especially when most of the reason why she's feeling this way is because she only gathers interest from people not to get to know her as who she is as a person, but rather only focusing on her exceptional beauty that would easily pass on the standard of being a fashion model if only she didn't take this route of putting herself in where she is right now, as one of the leaders of a top-ranking company.

Jeongyeon took a sip of her orange juice and roamed her eyes around. She had a glance at another man who seemed less attractive than the previous ones she faced with, who were also pretty, to be honest.

Quickly directing her eyes away and pretending that she wasn't aware of this man's incoming presence, she finds a place in the room where she can settle herself away from the crowd so that she can avoid hearing another unamusing, weak flirt and random stuff to listen to.

Jeongyeon saw a vacant seat near the corner and walked through it, but not until she observed something that halted her steps.

There was a table with only one occupant; only the empty chairs and her food were the only things that were with that person.

She recognized instantly that the woman sitting alone at the table was the most creative and smartest member of her team, named Myoui Mina.

Jeongyeon changed her mind, feeling pity for this lady, and she could see through her face that she's also holding her patience to make herself worth having her time around here.

She walked through Mina's spot and snatched an empty chair, startling her co-worker.

"Mind if I seat?"

"S-sunbaenim?" Mina looked at her in disbelief. She glanced away before silently accepting her excuse.

Jeongyeon grinned and nodded. She sat on the chair beside Mina, looking at the direction where Mina is watching through.

"So... what's the best talent of the division doing here all by herself?" She initiated a conversation first.

"I-I'm not really used at this thing, s-sunbae." Mina shyly answered.

"Then why did you attend?" Jeongyeon asked. She saw the guilt expression of Mina and quickly repeats to dodge any offensive remarks.

"Don't get me wrong, please. I was just curious why did you come if being in a party isn't the one you are used to be in?"

"Well... I learned that all of us in the team would be attending the party. I was suppose to decline it before I discovered that so... I had no choice but to change since I-I don't want to embarass myself for being absent and our team for being incomplete." Mina reasoned.

Jeongyeon ahh-ed in realization and snickered afterwards. "You really think of that, Mina? C'mon, it's not a big deal, okay? This is not even mandatory; it was just our way to celebrate the company's improvement in the ranks," she assured her. "There's this one called 'excuse letter', right? Why didn't you just create one and send it to me? I would've granted it."

Mina didn't respond in return. She knew that Jeongyeon was completely making sense, so she has nothing more to say about that.

"Where are your colleagues?"

"I'm looking at them."

Jeongyeon joined where Mina is looking at and there they are, dancing enthusiastically into the music being played by the DJ.

She clicked her tongue and relaxed her posture on the chair. Out of curiosity, Jeongyeon questioned Mina again who continued eating her carbonara on the plate.

"Aren't you getting bored of being alone?"

Mina shook her head. She spoke after swallowing the food. "No, Sunbaenim. I actually do prefer to be left alone. I'm more comfortable just living and moving on my own, you know? I just love being free and not forcing myself."

"But do you have any chance... have a desire to feel like you belong with others?"

Mina fell silent again; she only stared at Jeongyeon, and her lips formed into a frown. "Yeah, but I find it hard to do so, knowing how I struggle with being socially confident."

Jeongyeon then remembers how she always sees Mina quiet and pure working around the office, and at first she thought it was just part of her professionalism, but now it has been clarified that Mina is just acting as herself all this time.

To be honest, Jeongyeon would agree that it fits Mina's personality. Pure, kind, elegant, and tender. That's what she gets when it comes to knowing Mina as her co-worker and an acquaintance.

But from what she can see of Mina's way of talking, she actually does find the woman very nice to communicate with. That prompted Jeongyeon to attempt going further with this newfound connection that they have together.

"It may not be a full sympathy that I could give to you because we are still different, but... I do kind of feel what you've been experiencing so far, and wow, it feels strange at all." Jeongyeon shrugged. "I also wanted to be left alone, get separated from this crowd. I just noticed that their way of approaching me wasn't that very sincere at all. It was like they were just using the opportunity to step close to me and admire my beauty instead."

She looks at Mina, who is watching her talk while listening. "How can you stand being alone? How could anybody be fine with seeing somebody getting left behind or being noticed only for advantage?"

Mina and Jeongyeon both sighed at their similar concerns. Mina finds it surprising that for once, there was somebody who was able to bravely express all of her struggles and share the same as what she has been going through, especially coming from someone she didn't expect to be.

At first, Mina thought that she and Jeongyeon were apart from each other. Thanks to this moment, she discovered that people do actually still have something in common, despite how visible it may be for others to describe their qualities that might differ from the rest.

This night, she learned that Jeongyeon and she were the same.

"You don't deserve to be treated that way, Sunbaenim. They don't appreciate you for being a great leader and an employee of this company we're working at. All of your hard work must've felt like it still meant something when most of the people around you could only remember you for being beautiful.

I mean, being pretty wasn't that bad, and you are beautiful, Sunbaenim. I could say it is a gift, but... Couldn't people just praise more on other things that are worth acknowledging?

If only I could just talk to you sooner and thank you for doing a great job every day, I wouldn't hesitate to do it, Sunbaenim. I would do it myself."

Jeongyeon was stunned at Mina's remark. She clearly wasn't expecting Mina to go on a rant because of the unfair treatment that Jeongyeon is receiving, and for once, there was never a person who would spat it out loud in front of her face that she deserves better for many reasons other than Mina herself.

They are simply unbelievable, aren't they?

Mina slowly lost her courage to stare more at Jeongyeon, who became silent after that long speech she just released. "U-uhm... did I say too much? I'm so sorry."

"Wow Mina that was.... that was very thoughtful of you." Jeongyeon sheepishly smiled, blushing. "T-thank you, really. And I could say the same for you, Mina. You deserve better too and... you're also beautiful."

"Everybody does." Mina corrected. Both of them nodded in approval. Just then, Mina's eyes largened when she lately discovered something. "W-wait... w-what did you say at the end?"

"Uhh that you are also pretty, Mina? Why?"

"Uhm... did I really went that far on my-agh..." Mina shook her head rapidly and looked away at Jeongyeon again in embarassment. "I'm really sorry, sunbaenim. I should watch m-"

"No, stop. Mina, don't worry. Why are you so scared about? I liked it." Jeongyeon chuckled and massaged Mina's shoulder. "That was probably the most sincere compliment I ever got than everybody who tries to make a move on me."

Mina shuddered at Jeongyeon's touch and the other meaning she could think of from what she said. Her face starts to go red in flush but she tries to hold it in to avoid acting weirder near Jeongyeon.

"Hey, since both of us are here and nobody is trying to interrupt us more, why don't we just talk more about anything?" Jeongyeon offered.

And so did they. They talked after an hour, and Jeongyeon was relieved that Mina was starting to become brave and comfortable by her side. It was absolutely surprising that Mina is actually a great person to spend time talking with, noting that not only is she so gentle with her way of speaking but also that melodic soft voice that she has, which makes her more enticing to listen to.

When the DJ alerted everyone that it was time to dance, people started to gather around and find their partner. Jeongyeon refuses any invitation because of what she's going to do next.

"Mina, would you like to try to join me for a dance?"

Mina was astounded. She looked at Jeongyeon's free hand, pointing at her, just waiting for her response. "But I'm not a good dancer, Sunbae. People might look at me."

"Just disregard them, Mina. We're here to have fun, not to mind them of whatever they think. Who cares, they even look stupid, and I'm not even a good dancer too?" Jeongyeon recommended. "It's going to be alright, Mina."

Mina loosened her hesitation as her hand slowly grabs to Jeongyeon's hand and let herself get pulled carefully by Jeongyeon as they head into the dance floor.

At the circle, people had their eyes set on Jeongyeon and Mina dancing. Jeongyeon felt Mina being tensed and she easily calms the woman by pretending that nobody exists around them and it's just them in their own world having fun.

She turned Mina's head to make her eyes look directly at her as they synchronized their move, now it's just them focusing only at each other.

It did helped and it resulted as they were expecting it to be. After the dance, Jeongyeon and Mina heads back to their table and rested for a while before Jeongyeon spoke again.

"Hey, Mina. Would you like to go out with me somewhere?"

"We're leaving now?"

"It's okay if you want to stay here. I just want to get out here and be in a more relaxing place to spend the night away. I just asked you if you want to come with me because I thought you would needed it too."

Mina smiled at Jeongyeon's generosity. "Okay, I'll join you."

"Great, let's go. I'll take you to my favorite place to go to."

The employees were sad that Jeongyeon left and started to wonder why is she with Mina.

Both of them head to Han River where they bought streetfoods and sat together at a bench to eat and watch the river while talking along in a fine cold night air.

They went into some topics whether about work, personal life or anything else. A bit flexible than the previous they had earlier which was effectively impressed and intrigued each of them in their own stories.

That is, until Jeongyeon inserted this question that got her curious out of nowhere.

"So, Mina... do you find someone likeable in our workplace?"

Mina flinched, not expecting Jeongyeon that would ask such a daring and intense question like that.

She went extremely shy, directing her gaze away from Jeongyeon as her face went pale and cheeks puffed to contain herself.

"I-i don't." Mina stuttered.

"Oh really? I thought you'll have one." Jeongyeon chuckled. "Or... you just don't want to say it to me." she joked.

She forwarded her face beside Mina who is lowering her head and glancing only at the ground.

Mina heard that and her body trembles more in fear and panic. She quickly shook her head and muttered "No, I really don't have one." repeatedly.

"Hmm... okay." Jeongyeon nodded, pursing her lips. "We're the same then."

As they continue to walk through the shore of the river Jeongyeon finds Mina being strangely quiet.

She deduces that it must be due to what they talked about, so Jeongyeon wanted to clear up the suffocating tension between them.

"Mina, you good?"

"Y-yeah, why?" She responded, turning her head at Jeong.

"Nothing. I just feel like I ruined your mood because of what I asked earlier." Jeongyeon shook her head. "You've been quiet for minutes now. You don't even look at me when I did that."

Mina was taken aback that Jeongyeon caught that something's wrong with her. She underestimated Jeongyeon's observative skills, which she clearly got from being the team's leader, and how lame she was for that.

Jeongyeon gripped Mina's wrist and drew her attention, alerting the latter as her eyes sprung up when her eyes met Jeongyeon's deep and serious stares.

"If I crossed the line, Mina, I'm sorry. I just want us to know more about ourselves." Jeongyeon slightly bowed. "I just want to be your friend."

Mina felt sorry for Jeongyeon because she made her apologize for something she didn't do wrong. She is confused about what she should do to disregard Jeongyeon's apology.

"No, Sunbae, you don't have to." Mina patted Jeongyeon's shoulder and shook her hand in refusal. "The blame's on me. I didn't mean to overthink you with my weird antics. I guess you would encounter more of it when you're with me."

"I don't mind it." Jeongyeon shrugged. "You don't need to force yourself to change just to keep up with me. Just... be yourself, Mina. I'm one of the many people around this world who understands and values that every person has a different characteristics, and I definitely respect those who are just full of kindness in their manners."

"I want to be your friend because I don't want you to be alone most of the time. A literal friend to say, and for you to approach anytime you want. You can't just get seperated forever, Mina."

Mina softly smiled and her hands locked within theirselves, fingers fiddling as she absrobs all of Jeongyeon's comforting and assuring words.

"Thank you, sunbae-"

"Call me Jeongyeon... only if you would accept me."

Mina went agape as she looks at Jeongyeon pouting and crossing her arm. She looks so cute, as what she said inside her thoughts.

"O-okay. I want to be your friend too, Jeongyeon."

"There you go!" Jeongyeon clapped. "From now on, don't be shy whenever you're with me. Because I will always be here to join and help you with anything as much as I can."

Jeongyeon started to walk as she took the bites and slurps of her ice cream. Five steps away, she noticed that Mina remained standing on her spot, concerned about something.

"Mina? What's wrong?"

She went closer at Mina who is biting her lips, contemplating. "Jeongyeon... would you still really gonna consider yourself to get along with me if..."

She paused, slowly looking at Jeongyeon who is anticipatingly waiting for her next words to come out.

"Just tell me, Mina. I'm all ears to listen."

Mina heaved her chest to breathe out before continuing to speak. "I lied to you."

"What?" Jeongyeon blurted. "Uhh wh-"

"I do like someone in our office. I lied to you." Mina's voice slightly lowers as she prepares herself from what she's about to do next.

"I've been having a crush on her for months. Weeks after I started working at our department, I remember when I accidentally broke my heels and dropped all the documents I'm carrying in my hands.

Our team members looked at me. Maybe they were concerned, maybe some were laughing at my clumsiness. But there's only one out of them who I can really tell immediately that she cared for me."

Jeongyeon went curious at the pronoun 'she', discovering that Mina might be a bisexual or a lesbian which was unexpected.

"I couldn't answer truthfully because... I was just scared wondering what would occure if it got find out that if I say I like someone and the person I'm referring to is...

... is you, Jeongyeon."

Jeongyeon stared at Mina. Suddenly, her memory processed as it threw her back to that time Mina was mentioning. She was right, she was the one who helped Mina and aided her ankle which thankfully didn't got sprained but rather had bruises.

She is completely clueless that it would be the start of Mina admiring her secretly everyday whenever they get to work. She probably had her dark orbs transformed into pinkish hearts in her eyes as she watches her with a soft smile applying compress to Mina's hurt foot.

She probably taking slick glances at Jeongyeon on whatever she might be doing that Mina finds attracting to see or she is being missed throughly by Mina whenever she becomes absent in work.

She started chuckling at her last what if that Mina might be secretly getting jealous of seeing her acting a bit suspicious with other team members or other employees in the company. In addition, now it makes sense why Mina inserted that compliment she got back in the party and that "other reason" she's talking about. Mina attended the party because of Jeongyeon.

Mina furrowed her eyebrows, confused on what Jeongyeon found it funny to her confession. "Wait, seriously? I-it was me, Mina?"

"Y-yeah. Until now." Mina looked away.

Jeongyeon grinned. "Wow. For months, I didn't even know that I have a secret admirer being around me all this time. Impressive."

"So... you think that if you tell me the truth, I might reject you in an instant, run away at you and leave you here freezing in Han River as I delete all of the time we shared tonight in my memory. Is that so?"

"Guess you could say that."

"Well, Mina..." She stepped closer at Mina, now they're inches away from each other. "What if I tell you that I'm not doing any of that."

Jeongyeon forces Mina to look up at her, cupping her chin, causing the introverted lady to blush intensely at her touch. "I appreciate your feelings for me, and so far, the only thing I could say for you is that... you do actually look pretty too, Mina."

"I'm sorry if I can't give you the answer you want to hear yet. I don't want to rush things, so... hey. What if we give it a try?"

Mina was astounded. She didn't expect that Jeongyeon would consider this feeling; she had to willingly check it out and openly make her explore more of it. That only means that Jeongyeon does not care for her... but she has also developed trust in her, and that's very heartwarming, to say the least.

"Yes, I'm giving you the chance, Mina. Show me everything you have, because I'm interested in you too." Jeongyeon smirked. "You wouldn't know; one day, either soon or longer than that, I could finally admit to you that we should take it higher because I'm falling in love with you too."

"I-I will, Jeong. If that's what it takes then I accept it." Mina nodded and smiled. "I just couldn't believe it that this is finally happening. I never thought you would allow me to feel this way."

"You deserve it, Mina. You are highly gorgeous, pure, and elegant if I may describe. And to have this such kind of woman to be in love with me, I would really prefer it to know each others wants and likes. That way, we could know how we should make ourselves happy."

Jeongyeon pulled Mina and wrap her all over in a warm hug. Mina went teary eyes as she comfortably laid her head on Jeongyeon's broad shoulder, glad that the woman who stole her heart would accept her with open arms and freely let her admire more.

With relief, it was a blessing in disguise that she chose to attend the party despite having it against her desire.

-6 MONTHS LATER-

Jeongyeon stopped by in front of a flower shop just meters away from her workplace.

She entered and was greeted by the owner, asking her what does she prefer to buy and to whom she is giving it to.

"For my girlfriend, ahjumma."

"Aww look at you, want to make her fall for you more aren't you?" The old lady teases her, making Jeongyeon tightly smile.

"You got me there, ahjumma." She replied.

The old lady introduced Jeongyeon to some of the flowers displayed around the space that would suit as her gift for Jeongyeon to pick.

She wasn't getting invested to most of the flowers- but don't get it as a harsh idea that she didn't like it, those were still pretty but not  the one that suits her- until ahjumma presented to her one of the last remaining flowers she could offer for the handsome looking lady of a customer she has.

"Wallflower?" Jeongyeon reads its name written on the paper pasted on the surface of its container.

"Yes, it came from Southern Europe and as you can see, it has a yellow color but there are other that can have a red, orange, or purple color. It has a sweet smell and this kind of flowers mostly grow in the gardens." The lady describes the background of the plant to Jeongyeon as she checks it by herself. "This is actually a rare flower to consider for a bouquet to give on someone you like but... well, it's beautiful to look at."

"I agree, ahjumma. These looks wonderful."

"But wait, there's also meaning behind that flowers too." The old lady stops her. "The wonders that makes this flower special is that it represents faith, lasting beauty, everlasting love and a bond of affection if you want your relationship with that girl to be strong.

There's actually also this term for wallflower being used to describe people who are shy and possesses introverted personality, as it mostly bring simi-"

"Wait, ahjumma! I'm taking this." Jeongyeon interrupted the old lady, without any intention of disrespect.

"Aigoo... you have yours like that, don't you?" The old lady guessed. Jeongyeon just grinned and blushed.

The old lady brought some wallflowers with her and assembled it into a bouquet on her counter. Jeongyeon excitedly watched her doing it as the image of Mina is what appeared in her mind the more she inspects the bouquet.

"What's her name, if I may ask?"

"Mina. She's Japanese."

"Oh lucky of you, you even got yourself a foreigner." The old lady congratulated her which made them laugh at it.

Before Jeongyeon leaves the shop, she gave an extra payment for the old lady and thanked her so much for the service. The owner gave her one last advice to take as she departs.

"Don't hurt her and love her unconditionally, okay? That girl you have is fragile and pure, don't waste the blessing in your life."

Jeongyeon arrives in the workplace, attracting most of the employees strolling around her with the bouquet she has on her arms.

After leaving the elevator, she went to the Content Creative Team Department section where she got greeted by her members and proceeded by bunch of playful teases at her.

She went to the door that has the namecard plastered with Mina's name on it. Peeking at the window, she saw Mina being focus on managing the papers and working something on her computer at the same time.

Jeongyeon smiled as she admired Mina's adorable expression she makes when she thinks deeply, pressing the ballpen on her chubby cheeks.

She knocked on the door, alerting the woman inside. Jeongyeon turned the knob and opened the door as Mina said "Come in!"

Her eyes largened as she looked at Jeongyeon standing in her office with a cup of Starbucks coffee, a doughnut box and a bouquet of flowers in her arm.

"Good morning, my lovely Minari." Jeongyeon greeted her sweetly.

Mina chuckled and showed her precious gummy smile. "What's all of this? You really went into effort, huh?"

"Of course, it's our special day, so I have to." Jeongyeon hugged Mina and kissed her on the lips. "Happy 2nd month anniversary to us, and also... happy birthday to you, Mina."

"Happy birthday too, and thank you for these, Jeong." Mina kissed Jeongyeon again on the cheeks. She took the bouquet of flowers as Jeongyeon placed the doughnuts and the coffee on her desk.

"What is this flower, Jeong?"

"It's a wallflower, a rare one from overseas," Jeongyeon said. "The old lady told me what it means, and it simply just holds a promise that I want us to be strong together until the end while I devote my love only for you. The name was also a term to call for introverts, and it reminded me of you... with how I met you that started all of this and led us here in this moment, so I decided that this would be perfect."

Mina beamed a bright grin and blushed at Jeongyeon's touching comment. "This is beautiful, Jeong. Thank you so much."

"That's not it. I'm not done yet either. What do you say? Do we go out for dinner after work and celebrate?

"Sure."

Mina nodded in response. She and Jeongyeon embraced and went for another kiss before the lovers returned to being professionals with full motivation to begin complying with their respective tasks to work on today.

[themuse-if]

Another 20 (or so) Questions with Jo Nielsen

Interviewer: Welcome to another installment of our character interviews, where we dive deep into the lives and minds of our favorite cast members of The Muse. Today, we have Jo Nielsen with us, the drummer of The Rebel Rejects. Jo, thank you for joining us. Could you start by telling us what made you want to pursue music?

Jo: Hey, thanks for having me. Music has always been my refuge, especially after the tumultuous experiences of my upbringing. The drums, in particular, spoke to me – they're like my voice, expressing all the emotions I couldn't put into words.

Interviewer: How would you describe your music?

Jo: My drumming style is raw and energetic, I really feed off of Ro and De's energy. I tend to really let loose and leave it all on the kit. We have a blend of punk and post-punk, with slight influences from other genres thanks to De's eclectic taste.

Interviewer: How do you want to be seen by others?

Jo: I want to be seen as someone who's genuine and empathetic, who's been through struggles but still finds joy in life's simple pleasures.

Interviewer: How do you want your art to be seen by others?

Jo: I want my drumming to resonate with people, to be a source of comfort and empowerment. I want it to inspire others to find their own voice, just like music did for me.

Interviewer: What is your latest obsession?

Jo: I've been obsessed with hiking! I really love being outdoors, so I've been trying to hit all my favorite trails at home this summer before the move to university.

Interviewer: Describe your best friend(s).

Jo: De and Ro are literally the most amazing people I’ve ever met. When I first transitioned into normal life I wasn’t really sure what types of relationships I would form, but they showed up in my life and made me feel so seen and secure. They show me so many types of beauty in everything and truly keep me grounded when I’m feeling…lost. I know it’s cheesy but I would definitely say we’re soulmates.

Interviewer: Wow it sounds like you found true kindred spirits in De and Ro, that’s lovely. Could you describe your ideal partner?

Jo: Someone who's understanding and patient, who accepts me for who I am and supports my passions. Someone who's willing to go on adventures and explore the world with me. Also they have to get along with my friends, it’s an automatic deal breaker if they don’t.

Interviewer: What was your first kiss like?

Jo: I don’t really like to talk about it…it was a bit traumatic… I will tell you about what I like to think of as my first kiss. It was actually with Ro. *chuckles* I know, I know what you’re thinking, but it was actually really sweet. I had just finished opening up to them about my past and they asked me if I wanted a redo. It was nice…soft and gentle. Ro can actually be really sweet.   

Interviewer: Aw that's so cute! Ad I'm sorry but I have to ask, have you kissed since?

Jo: *starts to blush furiously* I uh…maybe once or twice…I mean did Ro say anything?

Interviewer: *stifles a laugh* Mmm I think I’ll let you ask them yourself. Moving on, have you ever been in love?

Jo: Not yet, but I believe in love and all its complexities. I think when it happens, it'll be a beautiful and transformative experience.

Interviewer: When was your last relationship, and why did it end?

Jo: I haven't been in a serious relationship yet. Honestly I had never even had real friends before Jo and De. I've been so focused on my music and my friends that I hadn’t really thought about dating. 

Interviewer: What’s your ideal Friday night?

Jo: I love just hanging out with the band, whether it’s practice, a gig, or just staying in. It’s alway super fun when we’re together.

Interviewer: What’s the last song you listened to?

Jo: "Love Will Tear Us Apart" by Joy Division. It's a classic that always hits me right in the feels.

Interviewer: How do you behave in a relationship?

Jo: I think I'd be a supportive partner, someone who's always there for their significant other no matter what. I believe in mutual respect and understanding in a relationship. I like to do little things for the people I love to show them I care.

Interviewer: Do you approach those you’re interested in or let them come to you?

Jo: I think it depends on the situation. I'm not afraid to make the first move if I feel a connection, but I also believe in letting things happen naturally.

Interviewer: What is your biggest pet peeve?

Jo: People who are closed-minded or judgmental. I believe in acceptance and understanding, so it frustrates me when others can't see things from different perspectives.

Interviewer: What do you notice first about a person?

Jo: Their energy. I believe in vibes, and I can usually tell right away if someone is genuine and authentic.

Interviewer: What did you dream about last night?

Jo: I think it was more of a nightmare…*gets comically serious* I dreamt I was on stage completely naked, with just me and my drum kit. And I was using bananas instead of drumsticks. AND even worse the audience was throwing bananas at me! *hides face in hands* That’ll teach me to eat a banana before bed.

Interviewer: *doubles over laughing* Alright Jo...not to suddenly get serious but... This is the final question, and I know this is a sensitive subject for you, but I have to ask. What's "the incident" that caused you and you mother to transition back into normal life?

Jo: *sighs so deeply* I... honestly... I still don't think that I'm ready to share that just yet. It's very personal and I only feel comfortable sharing that information with someone who has thoroughly earned my trust.

Interviewer: I understand, I'm sure it takes a lot for you to even open up this much. Thank you for today. It's been wonderful getting to learn more about you.

[achronicmess]

Because You Can’t See It

TW: This post deals with chronic illness and its impact on mental health, specifically my personal experiences in this context.

You can’t see it. Most people would probably describe me as a dynamic, positive, and cheerful person. Because you can’t tell by looking at me that I’m sick. And often, I almost forget myself how much I deal with every single day. I usually go through life smiling because my illnesses are part of me, but they don’t define me. And even though I struggle, there’s no reason for me to treat those around me poorly. Often, I even feel really good, but then a day like today comes along, and all my positivity seems to vanish.

Yesterday, I was full of energy and drive, checking off my to-do list without any problems. Today, the world looks different. My alarm rings at 8 a.m. There’s so much to do; I absolutely have to keep working on my term paper. But just before 11 a.m., I’m still lying in bed. This time, it’s a migraine. My head is pounding, the light seems to stab through my eyes into my brain, poking around in there. I feel so nauseous that I try to stop myself from throwing up by doing breathing exercises. I know I should eat something to feel better, but I can’t get anything down. I can’t even touch my coffee. I’ve been lying here for almost three hours now, focusing on my breathing and thinking about all the things I need to get done today. At 11 a.m., I finally drag myself into the bathroom, hoping a hot shower will help. But I don’t even make it to the shower. I feel so sick that I just sit down on the bathroom floor. Breathe, I tell myself. Inhale, exhale, don’t panic. But as I sit here next to the dryer on the floor, I feel unbelievably pathetic. Here I am again. I feel terrible, and once again, my body is failing me, as it so often does. I break down in tears. Great, now I’m sitting here crying on the bathroom floor, and from this point, my thoughts spiral.

It’s always the same. It starts with “Why?”. Why me? What did I do to deserve this? Why is my body so fragile? Why can’t I just be healthy? Be normal? Why me? I sink into self-pity and hate myself for it because there are people who have it so much worse than I do. But the thoughts won’t stop. I feel like a failure. Weak, because I can’t even get through a simple day. Because I so often can’t meet my responsibilities. Because I neglect my friends, cancel plans, and can’t stick to deadlines. Because my studies are dragging on. Because I can’t establish routines. And all of this is just because my body is attacking itself from the inside, can’t protect me on the outside, and gets overwhelmed by stress. I’m young, and I have many goals I want to achieve in life, but on days like this, I just wish I didn’t exist at all.

After half an hour, I finally manage to get into the shower, hoping my meds will start working soon. I decide to leave my tasks for the day aside and just go back to bed until I feel better. I know I’ll beat myself up tomorrow for not getting anything done. For being unproductive and pushing my tasks off. Even though, deep down, I know it’s not my fault. That it’s important to take care of my health and myself on days like this. That my fragile body is part of me, and I have to accept it. That I’ve become who I am today because of my situation. That my illnesses have made me a strong person. That I am strong.

But the only person telling me that is myself. And it’s not always easy to believe it. From others, I hear things like: “But you look so fit,” “You have diabetes? But you’re so slim!” “You have rheumatoid arthritis? But you’re so young!” “Oh, stop complaining. Wait until you get to my age.” “Why are you always so tired? You’re still young and full of energy.” “Another vacation? You hardly work as it is.”

And no matter how much I know these people are wrong, that they’re ignorant and have no right to judge, I internalize these things. So I feel guilty when I call in sick. I feel bad when I have to cancel appointments. I feel incompetent because I can’t handle everyday tasks like a healthy person can. And I’m afraid of being judged. Afraid of being seen as unreliable or lazy. Even though I’m doing my best.

I don’t want pity from others, but what I do wish for is understanding and recognition. For me and for all the other people who are struggling with chronic illnesses. There’s so much more to it than just the illness. It’s a huge mental burden. Especially in a society so focused on performance. We give everything we can, but to keep up, we have to give so much more than a healthy person.

But no one sees that. Because you can’t see it.

October 18, 2024

[zapreportsblog]

Spider Li Into The Spiderverse

➥ summary: (Y/n) Li was a normal teenage girl until she had been bitten by a radioactive spider one day after coming home from the gym, now she isn’t so normal. With abilities like non other (Y/n) goes from being this normal teenager to this crime stopping super hero Spider Li! But out-worldly forces come into play when other spider people start visiting her world to find out more about her. After all what spiderperson has a family that accepts them for being a superhero, friends who know of their secrets, and no canon event ever to be found in history?! Spider Li that’s who! So just what makes this girl so special?

➥ chapter 1: A Fateful Encounter

The gym pulsed with energy as the sound of gloves hitting punching bags filled the air. I stood in the midst of the bustling training space, focused and determined, preparing for an upcoming kickboxing match. Sweat trickled down my brow as I honed my skills, channeling my passion and dedication into each powerful strike.

As the end of my training session neared, my phone vibrated in my pocket, signaling an incoming call. I glanced at the screen to see it was my mom calling. With a sigh, I stepped out of the ring and wiped the perspiration from my face before answering.

"Hey, Mom," I greeted her, my voice slightly breathless.

"Sweetie, it's time to come home," she said, her voice filled with warmth and concern. "Dinner is ready, and we've been waiting for you."

I nodded, acknowledging her words. "I'll be there soon. Just need to grab my things and shower."

Ending the call, I glanced around the gym, the familiar sights and sounds comforting in their own way. As I prepared to leave, something caught my eye—a vibrant blue spider, its delicate web ensnared in the doorway. An instinctive sense of compassion welled up within me, and without a second thought, I reached out to rescue the tiny creature from its perilous predicament.

Carefully cradling the spider in my hands, I marveled at its striking hue. Its tiny legs crawled gently against my skin, and I felt a sense of connection to this delicate being. Concerned for its safety, I resolved to find a safe spot for it outside the gym, away from the dangers of being crushed underfoot.

Unbeknownst to me, this simple act of kindness would set in motion a series of events that would forever change the course of my life. With the spider safely in my hands, I made my way out of the gym, bidding farewell to the familiar faces and the scent of sweat and determination that permeated the air.

As I strolled home, the sun began its descent, casting a warm golden glow over the city streets. Thoughts of the spider briefly crossed my mind, but I dismissed them as inconsequential, unaware of the hidden power that lay within its venomous bite.

Upon reaching home, I entered our cozy abode, greeted by the comforting aroma of a home-cooked meal. My mom stood by the kitchen counter, her smile brightening as she saw me walk through the door.

"Hey, sweetheart," she said warmly. "How was your training?"

I shrugged, a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction washing over me. "It was good. I'm getting ready for the upcoming kickboxing match. Hopefully, all this hard work pays off."

My mom nodded, her eyes filled with pride. "I have no doubt it will, my dear. You've always been dedicated and determined. Now, come and have dinner. You've earned it."

I took a seat at the dining table, the aroma of the freshly prepared food filling the air. As we shared a meal, laughter and conversation flowed freely, the love and warmth of our family bonding us together.

Throughout the evening, the spider's bite remained a distant memory, its significance unbeknownst to me. Little did I realize that this seemingly inconsequential encounter would soon unlock a hidden power within me, forever changing the course of my journey.

As the night settled in, I retreated to my room, ready to rest and prepare for the challenges that awaited me. The spider, nestled within its newfound sanctuary, continued its silent transformation, its venom coursing through my veins, subtly awakening a dormant strength within me.

Unbeknownst to me, the spider's bite had triggered a chain reaction, altering my very essence. I would soon discover that this encounter was not a mere coincidence, but a catalyst for an extraordinary destiny.

As I drifted off to sleep, unaware of the changes already set in motion, I could never have imagined the incredible journey that awaited me—a path paved with adversity, discovery, and the realization of my true potential.