#i knew the ending would be depressing but still | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gouraminnow · 3 days ago

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Okay Hannah said this has Sabo vibes and I agree. Soo he're something small :)

Summary: Sabo shows you your own missing poster, and swoops in to comfort you over the resulting emotional turmoil he knew it would cause.

Warnings: SFW! Soft yandere, captivity, implied drugging, dissociation, reader is kinda depressed and has not one but TWO breakdowns. Hurt/Comfort with Sabo as the source of both.

I want good hot chocolate can you tell I want good hot chocolate

You're in bed when he enters, as you usually are now. Your several attempts at rushing the door as he opened it never got you anywhere, after all. At least once a day for the first six days of your captivity. Every time, he'd easily restrain you, holding you against his chest and chiding you softly. No, the most you'd accomplished was losing the pretty lamp he'd set on your bedside table when you tried to throw it at him during one of your attempts. The last and most short-lived one, actually, ending with you frozen in place when he didn't even react to it shattering against him, shards scattering everywhere. He just blinked owlishly, then sighed, shaking of the thin, fragile shards of glass that still clung to his coat.

You shuddered, knees giving out as you dropped to the floor- only to cry out when small, errant shards embedded themselves into your legs. Sabo tutted softly, stepping forward. The glass crunched under his boots, and he bent down to pull you up and hold you close. Just like he always did.

"You've hurt yourself..." he murmured, hushed voice gentle and lilting as he guides you to sit on the plush mattress. "Now what would make you try something so foolish, hmm? All I want to do is take care of you, why are you making this so difficult?" You wanted to yell at him, but you couldn't. You knew there would be a gap between a civillian and a member of the RA of course but... you thought the lamp would have done something. He hadn't even flinched. Hadn't even blinked.

It rattled you.

So you just stayed quiet, remaining where you sat when he left to retrieve a dustpan and first aid kit. He had tended to you before cleaning the floor, carefully removing each shard of glass with the little pair of tweezers the kit provided before cleaning each little cut and then bandaging your legs. You thought wrapping a roll of gauze around each was overkill, but remained silent, only cringing slightly when he softly pecked each knee once he'd finished. He had hummed then, sitting up, and his gloved hand found its way to your cheek, thumb rubbing slowly. He was quiet for a moment, waiting for your distant, hazy eyes to finally focus on him.

"There you are, love," he murmured again, lips curled upward in a deceptively sweet little smile. "I trust that ordeal was enough of a punishment in itself, yes? No more little incidents, I hope?"

The softness did nothing to quell the feeling his veiled threat had one you. The word chill wasn't enough, you felt like he'd dropped your whole body into ice water. He'd always been so patient, so gentle and soft despite your resistance. You suppose you might've gotten too comfortable showing your disdain so clearly. You didn't know what real "punishment" would be, from a man like him, but you weren't interested in finding out. You'd nodded tearfully, and deliberately tucked yourself against his side, that night. What happened to your legs was nothing, and you preferred the warmth you knew from him to the possibility of anything else.

So four days ago now, you gave up rushing the door.

You can hear him humming as he enters, smell the hot cocoa he'd started bringing you when he realized you'd given up being "foolish." It made you feel a little childish, but to his credit it was always the good stuff, mixed on a stove top with real melted chocolate instead of powder. It always makes you feel so warm and sleepy... making it harder to engage in any sort of resistance, though not impossible. You had pushed him away last night, shoving against his chest and rolling away with a groan. You felt smothered, and you were overheating, you just needed a little distance... slipping into slumber wordlessly once you'd gained a little space. "Good evening, love. It's so good to see you," the familiar smooth voice of your captor greets. He doesn't seem upset at all, so that's good. Voice full of warmth, no hint of the passive-aggressive huffing from last night. You wince as the light comes on, squeezing your eyes shut with a groan. "Ah, I'm sorry. Were you sleeping?"

You weren't. You're sure he knows this, he always seems to know lots of little things he shouldn't. "Y-yeah," you mumble anyway, knowing he'll choose to humor you. You hear a chuckle, unhurried footsteps moving closer, and the soft clink of your mug placed onto the bedside table behind you.

"A good thing we'll be off to sleep soon then, isn't it?" He croons, the mattress dipping as he sits behind you, a warm hand rubbing your shoulder. You hum in affirmation, reluctantly turning over to face him. You rub your bleary eyes, looking up at Sabo's spot- your stomach against his back after spinning around. He's hatless, blonde tresses framing his face quite nicely. The smile he gives you is sweet, but... a shiver runs through you. There's a familiar gleam in his eyes.

It's never something you can place, exactly. It's calculating, something almost sharp lurking in his wide, dark eyes. "Sabo..." you mumble out. "A-are... are you upset...?"

He tilts his head, unblinking. "Upset? Of course not, darling," he coos, gloved hand rubbing up and down your side. His touches are often more soothing than you'd care to admit. "What would I have to be upset about?" He asks pointedly.

Ah.

Something's up.

"I... I, um, I j-just..." you stammer, trying to find the words. It's about last night, isn't it? You were wrong. He's not over you snubbing his affection. You should say something, correct the misunderstanding... but find yourself tongue-tied.

He laughs softly, petting your head. "So nervous," he chides, voice full of mirth. "You can relax, you know? I have something to show you, but I'd like you to relax first, alright?" You release a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut. You try to ignore the guilt you feel as you lean into his hand like some skittish, touch-starved animal. It feels nice and makes him happy.

"Okay," you breath after a moment. You pull your arms underneath you and push your back up against the headboard, a shiver running through you as the covers fall from your shoulders. Your hands easily find the warmth of the mug on the table beside you, pulling it close. You hold it against your chest for a moment, staring down at the chocolate shavings sprinkled over the whipped cream, breathing the rich scent in deep. The heat is comforting, and when you finally raise the mug to your lips, you find that the flavor is, too. Just as usual.

The taste of dark chocolate spreads over your tongue, tempered by the lighter sweetness of the whipped cream. You hum softly in appreciation, a familiar warmth spreading through you and settling in your gut. You take a few sips in silence, drinking while Sabo watches you. Licking your lips, you flinch when he suddenly leans forward- only for a gentle kiss to be pressed against the tip of your nose, and.. w-was that a lick? You blink at him in confusion, and he just laughs- that sweet, airy sound that had helped him get so close to you in the first place. "Sorry for startling you," he says, sounding painfully genuine with that boyish grin of his. "Whipped cream. You missed a spot, that's all." You flush despite yourself, staring down at your drink bashfully. You've already drained about half of it, somehow. If he weren't your captor, all of this would be so... nice.

You can almost see yourself giving in, but you shove that idea away as harshly as you can, the swipe at your own nose almost a manifestation of the attempt. But like the sweetness clinging to the inside of your mouth, or the relaxing warmth imparted by the drink, it lingers. "O-oh..." you mutter. "That's embarrassing..."

"Aw, don't say that," he chides. "It was cute." You feel yourself heat up even more, and it's not because of the cocoa. You hear another charming laugh as you turn your face away from him. "Are you feeling better?" He asks after a moment. You don't answer immediately, pausing before you nod slowly. You... think you do. He doesn't seem mad, at least. Were you over thinking it? "Good," his soothing voice brings you back in just in time to jolt when his warm, gloved hand cups your face. Hesitantly, you lean into the affectionate touch, hoping it sates him. "That's good," he continues, thumb rubbing your cheek. "I have something to show you, now that you're nice and calm." You blink. You'd forgotten about that part.

You just nod, taking another sip after Sabo retracts his hand, reaching into his coat. You hear the soft crinkling of paper, and he pulls out...

Your breath hitches. Your hands begin to shake.

It's a poster. In big, bold letters, the word "MISSING" labeled under a picture of your smiling face- you remember that one. It's a picture of you laughing at your island's yearly harvest festival. Your own mother had taken that photo. You stare in stunned silence as Sabo begins to ramble. "I haven't seen this picture before," he says conversationally. "It's a lovely one. Doesn't compare to the real thing, of course, but I just had to take one." You whimper pathetically, but he keeps talking. "This is the last batch they're printing before they call the search off, after all! I won't get another chance."

Sabo's free hand reaches out to grab the mug before you can drop it. "Careful now, love..." he chides, moving the remaining cocoa to the bedside table. A warbling cry bubbles up out of your throat and you shudder, raising your hands to furiously wipe your eyes. Why is he showing you this? Why the fuck would he tell you all this?! "Shhh, oh love, what's the matter?" You aren't looking at him, but it's obvious to you by now the sympathy is feigned. "Ah, darling, even after I gave you the time to calm down..." You can tell, just from the sound of his voice that he's smiling. An arm snakes around your trembling shoulders, pulling you against his side. You want to scream at him. Cuss him out, maybe even hit him, for all the good that would do, but the sudden gut-punch of emotion quickly has you sobbing and disoriented.

You're pulled into his lap, head tucked under his chin while his arms busy themselves with circling around you. You don't push him. You're... being looked for. People know something happened to you and they were searching- your family, your friends, your island hadn't forgotten you, but... they were giving up? You hadn't been here that long, had you? Unless... "Sabo, yuh-you're l-lying," you choke out, shuddering against him. You feel his body go still for a second. "Please, S-sabo, you- s-say you're lying, please! They're n-not giving up, please, they c-can't! It huh-hasn't been that long!"

You feel him relax, arms squeezing you tighter. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he coos, rubbing circles into your back. "Just let it out, alright? I'm here," he says, voice low. He plants a kiss to the top of your head. "You have me, okay love? You have me."

You whine into his chest, tears no doubt staining his fine silk shirt. When had he taken off his coat? He pays no mind to the sullying of his clothes, petting you and shushing you with muttered platitudes. Your little episode doesn't last long, cries dying into pathetic little hiccups. "Sabo..." You whine, voice crackling.

"You need to understand," he says, no hint of a smile in his words this time. "I'm not lying, love. I'm sorry." You make a horrible sound, caught between a whine and a gargled choke. You'd probably be embarrassed of it if your mind wasn't reeling. "Shhh, honey, shhh," he soothes with a squeeze. "Just... imagine if it wasn't me, hmm? Imagine if someone really did want to hurt you... see how quickly every one gave up? Aren't you glad it's me?" Fresh tears spring to your eyes, and the shuddering, though weak, begins again.

You aren't. You don't see why it had to be anyone at all.

But that doesn't matter, does it? Not if he's telling the truth. If they gave up, all you have is him. If they hadn't, well...

Was there anyone you knew who could contend with Sabo, even if they could find you?

Gently, ever so gently, your captor turns, rolling you onto your side before sliding in snug against your back. He holds you tightly. Securely. What if it was someone else? No, no. Just because it could be worse doesn't mean this is good. He stole you. Took you from home. Taunted you with your own missing poster, with the love of your family, your friends-

Who were giving up on you, if Sabo was to be believed. Who couldn't do a damn thing to get you out of here. This- these warm hands that hold you, and the plushly furnished room they deliver your food to...

It's all you have.

With a shuddering breath, you roll over again, shaky fingers finding their way to the ruffles of his shirt. He pauses, the you hear a huff, and his arms pull you against his toned chest. You're so tired.

He hasn't pulled the blankets up, so the warmth is pleasant rather than suffocating. Your breathing finally evens out, falling in sync with is. Your head rests below his chin, the grip on his shirt relaxing until your hands rest placidly against his chest. You can feel the soothing rhythm against your palms. This feels nice.

It always has.

When you wake up, you're alone, with the blankets pulled up over you. You sit up, the soft sound of the shifting covers almost grating with how quiet the room is. Breakfast has been left for you, along with a now lukewarm mug of cocoa. The poster he'd shown you was nowhere to be seen, to your relief.

You sigh, reaching for the breakfast tray and pulling it onto your lap. Some porridge and a side of sliced fruit. You don't care enough to reheat anything, even if there is a microwave. You hardly process any of the flavor, anyway.

You're used to Sabo being gone for most of the day. You preferred it, even, dreading the times he'd come back just to smother you.

So why were you so... uncomfortable, today?

Why did it almost hurt to wake up alone?

You're exhausted. Everything still feels so raw, and you want... you want him to hold you again. A ball of guilt settles in your stomach, turning everything in your belly acidic. You put your unfinished breakfast back on the bedside table, and stumble your way into the bathroom for a hot shower.

When he gets home, hours later, you're in bed- hair still a little damp. This is his second to last visit, where he brings you dinner and then leaves again until it's time to sleep. As soon as the door opens you're struck by two distinct feelings:

The first is a feeling of relief.

The second is that guilty pit in your stomach growing heavier.

You sit up with a grumbled sigh, rubbing your eyes before turning to face Sabo, who holds a dinner tray in one hand and has just finished setting his hat on the door-side rack with the other. His dark eyes widen, no doubt surprised that you're upright for his arrival. Since you'd stopped trying to run for it, you'd pretty much remained bed bound. He steps forward, a small smile forming on his face, before his eyes slide to your unfinished breakfast tray and his face falls.

"H-hi, Sabo..." you try greeting, wincing when his eyes snap back to you. He slides the old tray aside, putting the new one in it's place before approaching you slowly, cautiously. You're quiet too, eyes glued to him while he sits down.

He examines you for a moment, and your gaze falls as usual. You don't think the intensity of his gaze is something you'll ever get used to. "Good evening, sweetheart," he says, the softness in his tone stirring something in you. "... Did you not like today's breakfast? I can avoid porridge, if you'd like." Your fingers twist at the sheets beneath you.

"I... I just didn't feel very good today. M'sorry." He's quiet. You grip the sheets stronger.

After a long moment, he hums thoughtfully. "I see. I do need you to eat though, love." You nod along. He wants you happy and healthy, as he always says, though one of those clearly takes priority. "Is ramen too much for you, right now? Should I get something else?"

You glance to the bowl on the tray he brought. It does smell good. "I... I can try it, I think..."

You flinch, heartbeat when a familiar gloved hand is suddenly pressed against your cheek, but you urge yourself to relax. That's what you get for taking your eyes off of him, you suppose. "I'm glad," he says, smile widening when you lean into his palm. "It's one of my favorites, I'd love to share it with you."

"Yeah, I know," you mutter, eyes fluttering shut. The leather of his glove is warm, just like everything about him. There's a nice smell to it, too. "You've told me that story a lot."

"Which story?"

"Of sneakin' into that Hightown restaurant with your brothers," you say, the hint of a smile pulling the corners of your lips. His thumb rubs your cheek, like it did last night.

"And here I thought you were tuning me out," he chuckles. You hum, the ghost of a smile you had fading. You'd tried to. But Sabo was perfectly happy with filling any silence all by himself. You're bound to retain something, especially if he repeats it... and it was a funny one. You hear the soft shuffling of his clothes as he shifts, scooting closer and leaning in.

There's a sharp intake of air from him when you meet him half-way, leaning forward to rest your head against his shoulder. You're worried you've done something wrong for a moment, but then his strong arms wrap tightly around your shoulders, squeezing affectionately and then releasing. He leans back, gazing tenderly at your no-doubt haggard appearance. His eyes actually look somewhat relaxed, instead of wide and horribly piercing. "This is a nice surprise," he says.

You jolt away, suddenly feeling very self-conscious, and his face falls with a regretful sigh. What's wrong..?" He asks. There's a beat of silence. You won't look at him. "I'm sorry, did I say something..?"

"I... I dunno," you admit, a whirlwind of emotions turning in your gut. You lower your face into your trembling hands. "I don't know," you whine. It feels so good. These fleeting bits of affection you allow yourself to accept, you realize, have always felt good, and you want them. The fact that you've initiated something, no matter how small, rattles you, but is it really that unnatural? To want the reassurance of affection from the only possible source you could gain it from?

What does it mean about you, you wonder, but then a flash of hot, gut-roiling anger bubbles up- how can giving up mean anything bad about you, if everyone else is giving up on you? Why should you have to feel bad about anything? If Sabo is all you have, what's the point of denying yourself?

You don't realize you've started crying again until warm, leather-clad fingers are already wiping the tears away. "I didn't want this," you sob, lurching forward- this time, throwing your arms around him and clinging desperately. "Wuh-" A choked hiccup cuts you off, momentarily. "Why do I feel this way? It's n-not my fault, I didn't- I-I never asked, I d-don't understand-"

He's shushing you, rubbing your back. He's moving your body, you think, but you feel far away from it, layers of fuzz between you and Sabo and the room and your feelings- you're in his lap now, babbling and crying and you're sure you must seem so, so stupid, but he's there, holding you, shushing and cooing so sweetly, you're sure, if only the overwhelmed static of your brain would lift and you could hear it. You curl up tighter, head against his chest, his heartbeat gradually growing clearer as exhaustion steals the bite from your cries.

You don't know how long it takes for you to calm, but at least you finally do, left shuddering and sniffling against your self-proclaimed lover for the second night in a row. "I'm here, love," he's saying once you're able to tune back in. "I'm here." Your breath trembles, still interspersed with little hiccups and whines. "Are you with me now, sweetheart?" He asks once your breathing has evened out for a little while. You nod. "Good, good," he coos. "How are you feeling?" You grunt in response, earning a huff from him.

"... Can you try and eat for me?" He continues after another pause. "Just a little bit. You don't have to finish." If you had your wits about you, this would have felt aggravatingly condescending. But you're tired. And hungry. So you nod, wishing the heat of his body was enough to burn away the lingering fuzz in your skull.

He feeds you. Sat in his lap, back against his chest, Sabo's gloves steadily raising the chopsticks to your mouth. It's good, or at least the little flashes of flavor your brain is able to process are. But you finish it, eyelids as heavy as the meal in your belly. You'd worried the food would upset that horrible, roiling pit in your gut, but it seems to have replaced it with something far more pleasant.

The bowl leaves your lap, and you hear the clink of porcelain against metal when he sets it back on the tray. He starts to slide you off his lap, but your hands fly to where his arms wrap around you, clinging to his white, silk sleeves. "Don't," you hear yourself say, voice hoarse and alien to you. "Please, don't..."

There's an audibly shaky breath from Sabo, and you feel the soft whuff of it against the back of your neck. He gives you a reassuring squeeze. "I'm going to go put the dishes away, and make us our drinks..." He says, continuing to slide you off his lap. "Nothing else. I'll be right back up, darling," he soothes, laying you down and looming over you. Both gloves cup your face, and your eyelids flutter as he leans in to plant a chaste kiss against your lips. "Promise," he whispers. only a breath away from your mouth, before pulling away completely.

He gets up, gathers the dishes, and gives you one last lingering glance as the door closes. You aren't ready. It feels awfully cold in here, now. It takes around seven minutes before he returns. You'd stared at the clock until he returned, two mugs on a smaller tray. Cocoa for you, tea for him, and a book tucked under his elbow.

He smiles sweetly when he meets your eyes, and you give a weak, watery one back. He sets the drinks down on the bedside table before sliding into bed next to you, setting his book on his lap and hooking an arm around you. He passes you your drink, and you take it wordlessly, breathing in the rich scent and holding the mug against your chest.

"... Thank you, Sabo..." you mutter, taking the first relaxing sip. He chuckles, flipping open his book- something dense and wordy that escapes you.

"Of course," he says, rubbing your hip. You lean in, resting your head against his chest. "Do you feel better?"

"Mmm-Hmm," you hum, taking a soothing sip. "I'm... I'm s-sorry," you tell him, staring at the fluffy whipped cream topping. He just shushes you.

The rustle of a page turning. The mingling scents of chocolate and tea. "Nothing to apologize for, love," he says, leaning down to press a kiss against your temple.

"Can..." Your breath catches. Your breath shudders, but you steady yourself by focusing on the warmth of the mug. "Um, do you think... you could stay..? Tomorrow? A-at least for just a little longer, I..." You trail off, noticing his body had gone taut underneath you. "You d-don't have to," you mutter, familiar pit beginning to build inside you, but it's quickly dispersed when he relaxes. He pushes the book away to wrap both arms around you, inhaling deeply.

"Of course I will," he says, and your shoulders sag in relief. You're glad it's him.

#one piece x reader #yandere one piece #yandere sabo #sabo x reader #tldr Sabo gets everything he wants but a little faster than he expected #it's a punishment with the bonus of pushing you closer

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cherrysurf · 12 hours ago

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winning you back pt.2

-where haikyu boys try to win back you their ex gf

-this is lwk depressing but maybe it’s bc of the music im listening to rn LMAO

contains; atsumu, tsukishima, kita, sakusa, oikawa, iwaizumi

pt.1 of winning you back here!

atsumu; He still very much has all your pictures on his feed that he never deleted and never will you had to go minimal contact with him because he kept texting you every other day to try to get back together, he still loves you and thinks your gonna be his wife and that this is just a rough patch, so when you post that you’re going to be volunteering at osamu’s restaurant for a charity that osamu is doing for young kids to get into volleyball he takes it upon himself to cancel his practice for that day and go and join you two and begged and forced osamu to make you too work together so he can talk to you, and those dam miya’s being so good and weaseling there way back into life’s, it worked. You two are now talking again. You told him that you wanted to take this slow, but atsumu later that week posted a soft launch of you two at dinner.

tsukishima; tsukishima acts like he’s so nonchalant but no one’s seen him cry over how bad it’s killing him that you can fully ignore him when he’s usually the one doing that. He hates how bad he fucked up so he decided to make a plan to win you back, what does that mean he had to do? work at the same cat cafe as you, at first you weren’t on the same shifts and maybe hanging out with cats was a plus but getting crushed on by other girls wasn’t. Anyways as soon and he saw you two were on the same shift he couldn’t be more happy, it was a slow shift so he used this time to catch up and be very soft and respectful he saw you weren’t fighting back so he was thinking that was a step forward, until later on when a girl came by to order a drink and was clearly flirting with him so tsukishima ignored her, as she said “can i get your number?” you turned to see what he would do all he said was “no i have a girlfriend she’s right there actually, i don’t what gave you the confidence to think you could ask me” he said laughing which left the girl embarrassed and you flustered.

kita; Kita is forever my yearning man. He writes letters for you and sends them, you kept them all because you still didn’t get over him. He thought it was the right choice to let you go but he couldn’t have been more wrong, and I fear kita is the type to have a romantic scene like the movies. So what? anyways he comes by your hour IN THE POURING RAIN. to apologize “i’m sorry im selfish for breaking up with you yn, i just clean up well i forget myself” OOOO YOU END UP SOBBING BC WHO WOULDN'T?! anyways safe to say you kissed in the rain and he won you back

sakusa; stubborn ass ho. He was shocked when you broke things off even more when you actually stood on business, sakusa was one to keep his composure and not crashout but he couldn’t understand why he was so affected by the breakup it’s like his whole life flipped upside down. He even stopped keeping up with himself for a bit which was totally out of the norm. So when you saw him at your apartment in the lates of the night messy hair, wrinkles in his clothes looking dead you knew something was wrong, he almost felt like he could breathe again once you embraced him, disgusting and all and he didn’t let go since and tried to change for the better

oikawa; He acted happy at first like it didn’t matter because he thought you needed him more than he needed you. Oh how wrong he was, the fan girls didn’t support him the way you did, didn’t cheer for him the way you did, no one could cook as good as you, no one could get him out his depression like you could, so one night around 4am he gave you a call wanting to quit volleyball because he felt like he couldn’t do anymore without you there, which broke your heart because you saw how bad he was struggling without you there and that’s when he finally admits “I needed you more than you needed me. Come back yn, i’m sorry” and you did because you needed him just as much as he needed you.

iwaizumi; it was mutual breakup but not really he just did whatever he could to make you happy he hated fighting with you, he never deleted your pictures, he still kept all your stuff that you didn’t take at his house, he was still loyal even if you weren’t together, He blamed himself for not fighting back. he became very very career oriented that’s when he saw you at a job interview, you had just finished interviewing for the place he works at as a sports medical assistant. you weren’t aware he was working there so he stopped you and asked to get lunch since you were leaving and he was on his lunch break. That's where he apologized for not doing more and still thought about you and asked for a redo and would do anything for a second chance, and you agreed because you felt the same.

tags; @solarvrse (for the atsumu one) @sahrii (for the iwaizumi one)

#cherrysurf writes #atsumu x reader #tsukishima x reader #kita x reader #oikawa x reader #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #iwaizumi x you #haikyu x y/n #haikyu x you #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x #haikyuu x imagines #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x reader

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aylacavebear · 22 hours ago

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Watermelon Crawl

You knew Dean didn’t like country music. The man had a love affair with the same five cassettes that he played on repeat any time he was in his Baby. If he wasn’t listening to one of those, he was hunting for a classic rock station on the radio. You knew the rules, Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole. You knew the rules, but that didn’t stop you from attempting to listen to other stuff. Pushing Dean’s boundaries wasn’t the smartest idea, and he always gave you that glare whenever you tried. There were rare occasions when Sam would drive and let you fiddle with the radio, but it was only the two of you, so to you, it didn’t count.

Dean x OCF Reader/You

Word Count: 5777

Warnings: Angst, Longing, Fluff, Reader Insecurities, Dean being Dean.

----------------------------------------- A few times, you had tried to talk to Dean about other music, but he would just hold his hand up to stop you, not even looking at you. It was his way of ending the conversation without it ever getting started. You even tried playing music in your room, extra loud so he could hear it. His response, he’d go into his room, put his headphones in, and turn on his music. Half the time, he left the door open, just so he could smirk at you that he couldn’t hear your music over his, making sure to mouth the words to you. The other half of the time, he’d just smirk when he did that.

It was infuriating and had been going on for nearly six months now, and you were somewhat dumbfounded about how to get him to listen to at least one song. His argument was that country music was depressing and slow. The whole ‘tear in my beer’ sort of bias about it. Sam found your insistence and Dean’s instant shut-down somewhat amusing the longer it went on.

Now, the three of you were sitting in a bar after a case. It’d been successful, and this time, the three of you hadn’t had the crap beat out of you. So, it was time to celebrate. However, the moment the three of you had entered, you smiled but Dean was instantly in a sour mood.

“Hope the whiskey isn’t as crappy as the music,” Dean grumbled as he slid onto one of the barstools.

You just frowned. Why does he have to be so damned stubborn? And, as you slid onto your barstool next to him, your mind began working overtime. You needed to figure out a song that would really get his attention, help him see that country wasn’t as bad as he thought it was. The downside, half the time, you couldn’t remember the name of the song, and the other half of the time, you couldn’t remember the artist. And inbetween that, sometimes all you could remember were certain lyrics to the song.

So, there you were, sitting at the bar and staring at the counter while all sorts of words sped through your mind. You were so lost in thought while trying to place a song with just the three words from the chorus that you didn’t notice the beer that had been set down in front of you, or how both brothers were staring at you.

Dean had ordered, like he typically did. Whiskey for him, and a beer for each you and Sam. Sam had even lifted his beer and said, “To a successful hunt.” But you hadn’t heard, and now both of them were staring at you. Sam had to lean forward so he could see around Dean, though.

“Hey, you okay?” Dean asked, slightly concerned at the far-off look in your eyes.

His voice made your head snap up, blinking blankly at him for a moment. “Yeah, I’m okay. I was just lost in thought,” you replied, repeating those three words in your head so you wouldn’t forget them so you could try to remember the song they went to.

Neither of the brothers were sure they should believe you. “You sure?” Sam asked, just as concerned as Dean.

“Yeah. I was just lost in thought,” you repeated, still repeating those three words in your head, wishing they’d let you get back to the conundrum in your mind.

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, a silent but concerned conversation passing between them before Sam held his beer up again, “It was a successful hunt, and no one got hurt. To a win.” He smiled a little, but was still concerned with what would have you so lost in thought.

You smiled, raising your beer as Dean raised his whiskey glass. “To a successful hunt,” you repeated happily before your glasses clanked together, and each of you took a drink.

Then, you were right back in your head, mentally cursing at yourself for forgetting those three words you’d been repeating. So, you pulled out your phone, opened your notes app and began typing things out that you could remember. Dean tried to glance over your shoulder, but you moved so he couldn’t see. The brothers watched you as you typed and sipped your beer, concern etched in their features, but you didn’t notice.

Even back at the bunker, you only waved good night over your shoulder as you went to your room, your phone still in hand. Once inside your room, you changed into pajamas, let your hair out of its braid, then plopped onto your bed and continued the list you’d been working on.

The two had stopped halfway through the war room, watching as you walked off. With how you had hidden your phone from them, they would have thought it was due to you talking to a guy, but you hadn’t dated anyone since you had started hunting with them. “What do you think has her so quiet?” Sam asked, still staring toward the hallways where you disappeared down.

Dean stood there, just like Sam, staring down the hallway. He’d been trying to figure that very thing out since back at the bar. “Well, it’s not the case. And she’s not dating anyone, so it’s not a guy. I honestly don’t know.”

For a moment, Sam tried to put the pieces together but was still clueless. “Maybe she’ll be up for talking tomorrow,” he offered before finally heading to his room for the night.

“Yeah, maybe,” Dean murmured before following Sam, both ready to finally get some much-needed rest.

—---------------------

Over the next several months, while not on cases, you spent your time making a list of country songs that were upbeat, suggestive, or just plain fun. It was a decent list, and you were quite proud of yourself. Now the question was, which song would you use to try to get Dean into country music?

The brothers had tried to talk to you, find out what had you so completely focused on, but you brushed them off. You could tell they were worried. However, you weren’t ready at the time to tell either of them what you’d been up to. You knew Dean would have instantly shot you down, and Sam would have lost it laughing.

“I’m going for a supply run,” Dean stated, getting up from his seat in the library, but you didn’t respond, concerning him further.

Sam glanced over at you; your entire focus was on your laptop in front of you. You’d turned it slightly so neither could just look over to see what you were up to. “Kitten, you gonna go with him?” Sam asked, concerned. You always went on supply runs so you could get a sweet at the store.

You looked up, a little puzzled, only having half heard both of them. “No. I’m good,” you replied plainly before returning your focus to the screen in front of you.

Dean and Sam exchanged another worried look, then they both looked at you, trying desperately to figure out what the hell you were so focused on. “But, you always go on supply runs,” Sam pointed out, this time, you heard his concern and met his gaze.

“I just really need to work on this. You know that if I walk away from it mid-focus, I’ll forget where I was at, and it’ll take me an hour to figure it out,” you told them apologetically, hoping they’d both understand.

It was true, and they both knew it. Just one of your weird little quirks that they both found cute some times, and annoying other times. “Do you want me to grab you anything?” Dean asked, a little dejected that you weren’t going with him. He loved it when it was just the two of you, but he’d never admit that to you or Sam.

“Pie?” you asked, already back to what you’d been doing.

Dean sighed as his shoulders slumped a little. You missed how his lips slowly turned downward before he walked off to the garage. Sam watched him go, then listened as the Impala drove away. “Alright, spill,” he told you bluntly, his gaze now on you.

Slowly, you lifted your head and looked at him over your laptop. Being short was a bit of a perk, since, right now, all he could see was from the bridge of your nose and above. “Promise not to tell Dean?” you asked apprehensively.

Sam’s brow raised in curiosity. “Depends on what it is.”

“Nothing bad,” you replied.

“Then I can promise not to tell him,” he told you, sitting up a little more as he leaned on the table.

You looked down at the screen, then back up at Sam. “I’m trying to find a country song that would get Dean to at least listen to the song,” you began explaining, then got a little quiet. “...and maybe even like it.”

Sam stared at you, blinking blankly for a moment before he erupted in laughter. You instantly deadpanned, leaned back in your chair, and crossed your arms while attempting to wait patiently till he stopped laughing.

His hand was now over his chest, attempting to catch his breath. What you were attempting sounded utterly absurd to him; Dean, liking county music. The thought alone made him laugh again. Sam’s eyes teared up the longer his laughter lasted, only annoying you.

“I was serious, Sam,” you told him bluntly when his laughter died down enough that he’d hear you.

He instantly froze, mostly from surprise. You were serious. Sam cleared his throat, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. “Okay,” he replied, drawing the word out a little, trying to get you to elaborate.

Sam was like a brother to you, and since he seemed interested, you perked up, getting a little excited to tell him about your ‘plan.’ “So, I have been making a list of all the country songs that are upbeat, suggestive, and just plain fun. I want to pick one from the list and learn the dance to it. Then, now with your help, set it up so that Dean can’t get out of not only hearing the song but also seeing the dance and how much fun country music really can be,” you explained quite excitedly.

He wasn’t sure how to react to what you’d said. The mere thought of Dean staying in any place for the length of a country song sounded impossible. Although he’d seen the way Dean would watch you when you’d walk away or when you had your nose stuck in a book helping them with research, so he thought your idea might just work. Sam moved from across the table to the seat next to you. “Alright, I don’t know much about country music, but I’ll try to help,” he offered with a genuine smile, bringing a smile to your lips that went all the way to your eyes.

You then began emphatically showing him the playlist you had made on youtube of the songs, then on the dances for each one. Sam watched intently. You’d done your research, but that was something you had always been good at. Luckily for the two of you, Dean took his time on the supply run, half-lost in his thoughts about what was going on with you.

“Watermelon Craw, definitely,” Sam chuckled after watching the dance for it.

Looking over at him, you tilted your head a bit, “Why that one?”

“Well, I just think it’s the best one to get him thinking a bit more about country music,” he replied, stifling a knowing smile that was toying with his lips.

You looked from him back to the laptop. It wasn’t a difficult dance. “Okay. But you gotta help me figure out how to set it up so that Dean will stay put long enough for the whole song.” “I can do that. You just focus on learning the moves, Kitten,” Sam chuckled, already devising a plan.

By the time Dean got back, Sam was in the library alone. “Gonna help unload?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Sam replied, getting up from his seat. “Y/N! Come help unload,” he hollered, already heading toward the garage.

“So, you find out what’s been up with her?” Dean asked quietly as they grabbed bags out of the Impala.

Sam loaded several bags into his hands, “Yeah. She’s working on something for you. It means a lot to her. So, don’t be a dick when she goes to show you.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, you were working on something, for him? “I think I can do that,” he replied fairly nonchalantly, grabbing several more bags. At least she’s not upset. Whether he would admit it or not, he’d been worried about you since that night at the bar.

That was about when you finally showed up in the garage, wearing your typical pair of jeans and some random shirt with a flannel pulled over it. With how big the two of them were, you had to wait till they moved before you could grab anything. Dean gave you a gentle smile before he and Sam headed to the kitchen.

You were just as stubborn as they were when it came to trips back and forth to the car, so loaded up with almost as many bags as they had grabbed before joining them. Dean watched you as you began putting things away. If he was being honest with himself, you hadn’t looked upset over the last month, just… focused, and perhaps even determined. Now, though, you looked relaxed.

He wanted to ask you about whatever this thing was you were working on for him, but with how Sam had told him, he couldn’t. Clearly, whatever it was, you wanted to surprise him with it. Dean loved watching you when you were relaxed like this. You typically had a small smile on your lips and a softness in your eyes, no matter what task you were doing.

Sam, clearing his throat, quickly pulled Dean’s attention. He’d been staring too long again, and again, Sam had caught him. Dean gave him the ‘don’t say a word’ look while Sam just smiled and shook his head in amusement. You were oblivious to it, though. Your focus was on organizing the spices since Dean had remembered to grab the ones that were low.

—---------------------------

You spent all your free time in your room over the next four months practicing the moves for the song. Well, most of your free time. You still hung out with the brothers, having movie nights or goofy drinking games. When you were finally ready to put your ‘plan’ into action, you let Sam know. He had even covered for you to grab the couple of things for the outfit that you didn’t own.

Now, you were standing in front of your mirror, feeling like you looked ridiculous. Typically, you never wore shorts unless they were bed shorts, and even in those, you never left your room in them. You owned shorts, you had just never worn them in front of either of the brothers. The ones you were currently wearing were jean cut-offs, easily resembling daisy dukes. Then there was the top, a red and white plaid button-up that tied so it was more of a half-top with short sleeves. It wasn’t that it looked bad or anything; it just showed off your mid-drift, and your belly-button piercing. That was also something neither of the brothers knew about. This particular one was a skull and crossbones.

The hat was a nice, plain brown cowboy hat to match the knee-high cowboy boots. You’d left your hair down, but it didn’t seem functional. So, you thought about how a girl would have her hair if she was doing things on a farm or ranch, even if she was wearing a hat. With that, you set the hat on your bed and put your hair up in a braid before returning the hat to your head.

Well, it looks better, at least.

It wasn’t that your goal was to seduce Dean or anything like that. Yeah, you liked him, far more than you’d admit. But he was a hunter, and you weren’t human. So you had completely pushed any idea of anything with him out of your mind.

I still look stupid.

You never dressed like this, ever. Then again, you really wanted Dean to see that some country music was fun and not all of it was the ‘tear in your beer’ sort of music. You hadn’t even let Sam see what you were wearing. The last thing you wanted to hear was him teasing you. With a determined breath, you pulled out your phone and sent a text to Sam. “I’m ready.”

“I’ll text you when I’m outside.”

Less than ten minutes later, your phone buzzed again with another message from Sam.

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.” One more glance in the mirror, then you sent a text to Dean. “Can you meet me in the library? I want to share something with you.”

Dean had been relaxing in his room for most of the morning, and now Sam was gone on a supply run, and you’d basically locked yourself in your room for the last nearly hour. So, when his phone went off with your notification sound, he picked it up, curious and puzzled. That only got worse after he read your text.

“Sure.”

He closed his laptop and headed out of his room while you listened at your door to his boots as they went down the hallway. When he rounded the corner into the library, it was empty, save for a note sitting on the closest table. Please just give me three minutes of your time, and if you still hate it, I’ll never ask again.

Y/N Now, he was really puzzled, but before he had any time to contemplate what the note meant, he heard a familiar tune coming from the war room. It was a tune he’d heard you listen to before. Dean hadn’t even noticed that your speaker had been placed on the table. He did hear your steps in the hallway, getting louder the closer you got.

He knew how much you enjoyed an array of music, and you always wanted to share it with him and Sam. Most times, he wasn’t in the mood. That was typically due to your timing on the matter. At the bunker, he just loved messing with you. Half the time when you’d turn your music on, he’d put his headphones in but wouldn’t turn on his music so he could hear yours and watch you dance around your room. He just couldn’t tell you that.

Typically, you wore your shoes or went around in socks. The sound he heard from your footsteps was neither of those, and he couldn’t pull his gaze from the hallway. The moment you came into view, he swallowed hard before his mouth went completely dry. You never showed skin, like, ever. His arms were crossed, an unreadable expression on his face as you entered the war room, your steps on par with the beat of the song. Then, you began dancing, your eyes on Dean the whole time. You were a little self-conscious as your thighs jiggled a little as you moved, but you tried to focus more on the moves and not that. Technically, the song was a line dance, but you had added your own flare to it, along with doing the “watermelon crawl” mentioned in the song.

Dean looked you up and down, slowly, and the thoughts that began playing through his mind were far more detailed than anything his imagination had come up with before. The way your thighs jiggled had him wanting to knead your flesh or burry his face between them and make them jiggle for an entirely different reason.

When the band started playin' The watermelon queen said “Let me show you somethin’ That you ain’t never seen” She grabbed me by the arm said “Come on let's go” She dipped down, spun around, and do-si-doed She rocked back on her heels Dropped down to her knees Crawled across the floor Then she jumped back on her feet She wiggled and she jiggled Beat all you ever saw Said this is how you do The Watermelon crawl

Thankfully, the music was loud, or you would have heard the groan that made it past his lips when you did everything in the song except grab him by the arm. He couldn’t move, and he couldn’t take his eyes off you. It was when you jumped back on your feet that the light in the library bounced off your belly button piercing that made his lips part slightly.

When the song came to an end, you were standing at the foot of the stairs in the war room. Your breathing was a little heavy from the exertion of dancing, but you had a small smile on your lips. It quickly faded when you looked over at Dean. He hadn’t moved a single muscle.

He couldn’t move. It was taking every ounce of self-control he had not to pin you against the wall before carrying you to his bed. “Done?” he asked, far gruffer than he meant to, and he instantly regretted it when he saw your expression fall further.

A sad sigh slipped out your nose as your lips formed a small pout, “Yeah,” you mumbled. Then you turned, head dipping a bit, grabbed your speaker, and went to your room.

The moment you were out of sight, Dean set his hands on the library table, using it as balance as he attempted to fight with his throbbing cock. I swear, that woman has no idea what she does to me. He took several slow, deep breaths, trying to shake the images of you dancing from his mind. I’m never going to be able to even hear that song again without thinking of her.

Once in your room, you changed into comfy sweats and a slightly baggy shirt, then plopped down on your bed. “You can come back in Sam. I’m done.”

“How’d it go?” he texted right back since he was only sitting outside the bunker.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Sam was instantly concerned, pocketing his phone and making his way into the bunker. He found Dean, still in the same position, leaning on the table, his breathing still a little heavy and clearly lost in thought.

“Dude, you okay?” Sam asked, now a little worried about his brother too.

Dean’s head snapped up, not expecting his brother to show up so quickly. “Yeah, I’m good,” he lied, his voice that octave deeper.

“Funny. You don’t look so good,” Sam told him, daring to take a few more steps closer.

Dean sighed, then leaned his back against the table. “She got to me, alright. You could have at least given me a heads up as to what she was going to wear.” Sam furrowed his brow, a little confused. “She didn’t even show me what she was going to wear.”

“Did you know she has a skull and cross bones belly button piercing?” Dean mused as a smile began tugging at the corner of his lips.

That was when Sam chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “Nope. You need to talk to her, though. She thinks you’re mad at her,” he explained. Even if you hadn’t said it, it was clear to Sam how you were feeling.

“And what the hell am I supposed to say to her?” Dean asked, almost reluctant to ask.

“Tell her the truth,” Sam suggested gently, knowing how long his brother had been attempting to hide his feelings for you.

Dean hung his head. The last thing he wanted you to believe was that he was mad at you. He glanced at the hallway, then took a deep breath before heading in that direction. Sam wished him good luck before he took those couple of steps down into the war room.

The closer he got to your room, the faster his heart sped up and the more the butterflies danced around in his stomach. Dean was never good with words. Well, he wasn’t good with these sorts of words, but for you, he’d at least try.

The hesitant knock on your door pulled your attention from your laptop, but you went over and opened it anyway. You figured it would have been Sam to come console you and get you to talk about how it had gone. You were not prepared to see Dean standing there, looking… nervous.

He couldn’t quite meet your eyes, knowing how dejected you had looked when you walked away earlier. “I’m sorry, about… earlier,” he told you, quieter than you were used to hearing him.

You looked up at him, a little puzzled, even if you were still feeling dejected. “Why? I know you don’t like country music. It’s my fault for pushing you,” you told him, doing your best to keep your emotions out of your words. You really didn’t want his pity.

His eyes instantly met yours. “No. Don’t do that. It’s not your fault. And you didn’t push me, so don’t go thinking like that,” he told you, a little sterner than he meant to. Then, he let out a sigh as he ran a hand down his face.

“Can I come in?” he asked, the guilt that had been weighing him down slipped into his words.

You weren’t sure what he was trying to get at, but you moved to let him in anyway. He was still your friend, after all. You sat down near your headboard again while he took a seat at the foot of your bed, his gaze on the floor while his arms rested on his thighs.

“I’m sorry, for not saying anything earlier. I honestly didn’t know what to say,” he began, still unsure how to tell you what was going through his head or how he felt. Dean could tell you were watching him. Probably even tilting your head like a curious cat, which he always found adorable.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves and racing heart. “It was amazing. You were amazing,” he finally told you, quietly breaking the silence that was driving you crazy with worry. “I’ve never seen you dance before,” he admitted in almost a whisper. “Why did you go through all that?”

You bit your bottom lip, thankful he wasn’t looking at you, or he would have seen the blush on your cheeks from his compliment. “I just wanted you to see that country music wasn’t all depressing like you kept saying it was,” you admitted in a nervous, almost whisper, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

When he chuckled, and that smile found his lips, you smiled, too. You couldn’t help it. His smile always made you smile in return, even if it wasn’t always directed at you. It was when he turned to meet your gaze that your breath hitched in your chest, and you hoped he didn’t notice.

He still wasn’t entirely sure when it had happened, but he knew he couldn’t deny it anymore. He just couldn’t quite bring himself to admit it yet. There were the times he’d caught you watching him, a look in your eyes that took his breath away and scared the hell out of him. But now, you looked almost worried about what he would say.

“Sometimes, when you’d turn on your music and I would put my headphones on, I didn’t always turn my music on. Sometimes, I listened to what you were,” he admitted a little sheepishly, shifting a little so he was facing you more.

The surprise on your face brought a smile to his lips, so he continued. “I do like some of the songs, and not just from the country ones you would play. I’ll never be able to listen to that one you danced to and hear it the same way again, though,” he chuckled a little, thinking about how you moved. “I’m gonna see you dancing to it in my head. I loved that, by the way,” he added gently but sincerely.

Your expression instantly brightened, even if a deep blush found your cheeks, but before you could say anything about how happy you were, he spoke again.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you had a piercing? It’s cute,” he told you, that devilishly hot smirk on his lips and a glint in his eyes.

The blush on your cheeks went deeper as you ducked your head and averted his eyes, instantly flustered from head to toe. It was when you felt his hand over yours as you fidgeted with your shirt that pulled your gaze back to his.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” he asked, but this time it was genuine concern. You talked to him about everything, or so he thought.

Your eyes fell to his hand over yours, trying not to frown. “A lot,” you mumbled. Then you felt him shift on the bed so that he was closer to you before he gently lifted your chin so he could look into your eyes.

“Talk to me, Kitten, please,” he asked softly, but he hadn’t moved away, and it made your heart flutter a little.

“I felt stupid, wearing that outfit and dancing. My thighs were jiggly, and I just felt exposed. I wasn’t trying to make you think about me. I just wanted you to see that country music wasn’t all depressing,” you confessed quietly but had averted your eyes from his before you had even started talking. Then, after a few moments of silence, “...and I never mentioned my piercing cause I thought you’d think it was stupid,” you mumbled.

Dean sighed, hearing the vulnerability in your voice broke his heart. You were one of the most confident people he knew, even if you weren’t human. “Listen,” he began sincerely, then dipped his head so he was looking into your eyes. “You’re beautiful, even if you don’t see it.”

“Not pretty enough,” you mumbled.

His look went from sincere to utterly serious. So that’s why she always wears things that cover her curves. The lightbulb finally came on for him. He knew he was going to have to say things he’d kept to himself for far too long, apparently.

“Kitten, listen,” he began, and the gentleness of his tone pulled your gaze to him again. “I know I’m risking everything here, but it’s damn time you knew. You really are beautiful. I’m always thinking about you, wondering what you’d look like in something a little more… form fitting. Those shorts of yours…” That smirk found his lips before he bit his bottom one, and he practically purred at the thought of them on you.

“I’d love to see you in them again,” he told you with the smirk that said far more than you wanted to think about. Mostly because you always told yourself you imagined him looking at you. “...I love them, and you look amazing in them.” He watched the blush in your cheeks go a shade darker, and to him, it was the most adorable thing he’d seen, other than your curious cat look. “I’m not good with talking about emotions. Can… can I show you what you mean to me?” he asked gingerly, knowing he was risking everything if you didn’t feel the same way.

Your heart was pounding so loudly that you swore he could hear it. Then it was like all the air had been sucked from your lungs, and you couldn’t take a deep breath. You swore the butterflies in your stomach were doing some sort of rave, and the look in his eyes made you swallow hard. Literally, all you could do was nod.

Dean looked from your eyes to your lips, which were slightly parted, then back to your eyes before he slowly closed the distance. His finger and thumb were still gently holding your chin so you could pull away if you really wanted to. His other hand was still over both of yours in your lap. The moment he saw you close your eyes, his lips met yours, and it was better than anything his fantasies had come up with.

The way he kissed you had you thinking all sorts of things. It was slow, intimate, and you prayed your heart wouldn’t explode with as hard as it was beating. Does he really feel the same? It was the only thought that kept running on repeat as your lips moved with his. For a few moments, it was hard to fully relax, let the moment flow.

Dean could feel how tense you were, so he went slow, only wanting to show you what he couldn’t tell you. He wasn’t ready to usher those three little words into existence. Slowly, he shifted closer to you, his lips in a slow dance with yours. His hand glided across your skin from your chin to your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he held you close.

You allowed yourself to lean into his touch, feel what he couldn’t tell you in words, and by doing so, your fingers laced themselves with his in your lap. The moment stretched on, the tenderness of everything that was him, soothed your worry, your insecurities, and the doubt that always clouded your mind.

When he did pull away, he rested his forehead against yours, still holding you close, trying to catch his breath. “You really are amazing,” he whispered tenderly, a soft, genuine smile on his face.

It made you smile a little as you looked into his eyes, seeing something there that had your breath hitching again. He does feel the same way. “So are you,” you whispered.

Both of you knew things would change. The lives you lived were hard, but it was moments like this that you both secretly vowed to have as many of as possible. To be each other’s rock while also being that soft, loving safe space that would bring peace to the other’s soul. You knew Dean had his faults, but you had yours. It wasn’t going to be perfect, but it was going to be something you’d put your all into, as would he, and neither of you needed to speak those words to each other to know that.

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aftgficrec · 2 days ago

Note

Hi do you guys know of any fics where neil ends up in Easthaven (or similar) because years of ignoring his trauma and refusing Bee finally catches up with him and it’s andreil focused?

There’s plenty about Neil and his mental health around, but most fics where Neil is in Easthaven or a similar institution are AUs. We’ve got some postcanon fics for you here where Neil has neglected his mental health to such a degree that the consequences are fairly disastrous (even though often he finally agrees to go to therapy). So, beware of the trigger warnings! - S

Also see these previous recs:

(see top of posts for further recs)

Neil & Bee here

Neil goes to therapy here

Neil attempts suicide here

You might also like…

Andreil and eating disorders here

Andreil meet in Easthaven here

Neil with depression/mental illness here

Neil with anxiety attacks here

Some more fics featuring Neil struggling with his mental health/seeking help:

‘cracked but not smashed’ here

‘I No Longer Feel Things (I Know I Should)’ (since updated) and ‘I can feel you under my skin’ here

‘I'm Not Okay (I Promise)’ here

‘yes, I’m still trying’ here

I feel the burden now (it’s weighing down my soul) by Loverz_rock [Not Rated, 3238 words, complete, 2024]

Neil broke away from Andrew’s gaze to stare out the window. “Will you keep me from killing myself? Ever since you gave me a key and told me to stay I’ve been fighting to do just that. But I don’t have it in me to do it any longer. I don’t know how to live now that I’m allowed to.” Neil let his fingers run through his hair as he returned his gaze to the blond. Andrew’s hand twitched to reach out. Instead he took a long drag from his cigarette, focusing on letting the smoke out. “Don’t ask for stupid things. I’m not going to make a deal about that” Neil didn’t push, he just stood there staring at Andrew while inhaling the smoke to keep him grounded. “I’m already doing that, idiot.” Or: Neil is sinking down a dark place during his last year of college, but Andrew is there to catch him.

tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: ptsd

I Am A Forest Fire by hetheylecter [Rated M, 3558 words, complete, 2024]

Everyone was staring at him, he knew. They were thinking how stupid he was for all this. He was Neil Josten. He was Nathaniel fucking Wesninski. He should not be breaking down over a few friends family moving on with their lives. or. it’s neil’s senior year. he’s totally coping.

tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: ptsd, tw: vomit, tw: dissociation, tw: blood

Neil Josten is Not Fine by the_greater_grief [Rated T, 3365 words, complete, Aftg Then & Never 2024]

After weeks of nightmares and an embarrassing discovery, Neil finally decides to pay Betsy a visit.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: nightmares, tw: bedwetting

i'll take anything you have (if you could throw me a line) by ifitmeanslosingyou [Rated M, 923 words, complete, 2024]

the sunrise can be pretty, neil thinks, but instead of the pinks and oranges washing him with ease, neil can’t help the panic at the thought that he’s been up here for longer than he planned to he wonders if anyone has even realized he left the dorms in the first place, wonders if andrew even looked when neil left the bedroom, wonders if he gave up, wonders if he finally came to his senses and realized neil was more trouble than he’s worth wonders if the roof of the court is high enough that the fall would kill him

tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: implied/referenced self harm

help, I've lost myself again (but I remember you) by abitsillygoofy [Not Rated, 5320 words, complete, 2024]

“Neil we have to talk about it,” Betsy said “I don’t think so” Neil replied “Nope, not happening” He popped the p at the end trying to make the woman mad at him. “You just tried to kill yourself, so I think we have to have this talk” Betsy didn’t seem bothered by his act and kept her nice, neutral facial expression, but unlike on his session looked worried too. or Neil wakes up in the hospital after his suicide attempt and has to face what he did.

tw: suicide attempt, tw: self harm, tw: blood

I Quit Talking Again, I Know You're Still Listening by Hyalophagia [Not Rated, 36085 words, complete, 2024]

"Andrew didn’t know how to stop something from breaking; he’d nearly died trying. But Neil had taught him it was possible to put the broken pieces back together, and he was determined to return the favour." Neil was only a freshman and a rookie when he made his deal with Ichirou. He hadn't stopped to consider how much pressure he was putting on himself; he'd lived in danger his entire life and was used to fighting to stay alive. He'd be fine. He'd always been fine and he always would be. Right?

tw: self harm, tw: dissociation, tw: disordered eating, tw: ptsd, tw: panic attacks

hand. cheek. trigger. bang. by tae_doelee [Rated T, 3980 words, incomplete, last updated March 2022]

(NB: fic is marked as complete, but the storyline is left unfinished)

Neils struggle with depression post-AFTG, things have changed but maybe not as much as he thought.

tw: ptsd, tw: depression, tw: dissociation

You Still have me by Marydu [Rated G, 3826 words, complete, 2022]

Neil is missing again Andrew is worried Where is Neil? What the hell is going on? Andrew is furious that he doesn't know

tw: dissociation, tw: alcohol abuse, tw: minor character death

bullet point fic/headcanon by nightquills [Rated T, collection, complete, 2021]

Chapter 8: out of touch

neil knew that things couldn’t stay the same forever. he knew he and his foxes, his friends, his family would be leaving palmetto soon to start the rest of their lives.

tw: depression, tw: dissociation

Choices by Tori_Scribbles [Rated T, 3306 words, complete, 2019]

Part 6 of In A Foxes Hole

“You walked into Evermore, knowing full well what they were going to do to you. You left with your father’s people not expecting to come back out alive. But Betsy is what you’re terrified of?”

tw: anxiety, tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Neil & therapy by @queer-lovebot [tumblr, 2023]

Knowing Neil, he isn’t getting therapy post-canon for at Least 5 years. He is, however, extremely curious about the effects it has on literally all the other Foxes.

AU-setting:

you make your hand a gun (you lie to everyone) by superache208 [Rated T, 13740 words, incomplete, last updated Jan 2025]

When Andrew arrives at the Columbia Psychiatric Hospital, he feels nothing but numb. That is until he meets his roommate Neil. Neil has been in the hospital for two weeks, and he's determined to escape. Unless someone gives him a reason to stay. Or: where Neil and Andrew first meet in a Psychiatric Hospital before ever meeting the Foxes and slowly learn to heal.

tw: suicide attempt, tw: anxiety, tw: ptsd, tw: eating disorders, tw: paranoia

more than enough by drunk_poet [Rated M, 6114 words, complete, 2024]

In the shadows of a quiet mental hospital, two broken men find themselves adrift in a world that doesn’t see them. Andrew Minyard hides behind silence, having long forgotten how to connect with anyone. Neil Josten wears his scars like armor, each one a piece of his fractured past. Neither of them expects more than solitude within these walls. But when their paths cross in the silence of an empty room, something unexpected stirs—an understanding, a shared darkness that only they can see in each other. Drawn together by wounds that refuse to heal, they begin to find solace in each other's presence, their guarded hearts slowly thawing in moments of quiet connection. Their bond is fragile, threatened by the very ghosts that brought them here, yet they find themselves clinging to it, both terrified and mesmerized by the possibility of love in the unlikeliest of places.

tw: self harm, tw: implied/referenced suicide attempt, tw: panic attacks

5 Meter Walls | 5 Meter Mauern by jetblackromance [Rated E, 7570 words, complete, 2024]

Teen Neil and teen Andrew meet in a psychiatric ward. Neil’s mom died at the beach after an encounter with Neil's father's men. Neil's own wounds were more severe than he had thought. He passed out in a motel and the owner called child services on him. They found him just in time and called an ambulance. After a few weeks in the hospital, they decided a stay at the psychiatric ward would be best for him. Andrew was staying with Cass and Richard. He had accepted that he had to deal with Drake if he wanted to stay with Cass. He found his own way to cope with it. Usually he hid it well enough; no one but Drake knew about it, the armbands covered the evidence. But one day, Cass saw and signed him up for an eight week long stay at a psychiatric ward.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: scars

Sunrise by hetheylecter [Rated M, 4459 words, complete, 2024]

Freedom was… not what Neil was expecting. It wasn’t as… freeing? or. neil navigates the hell that is middle school, mental health, and freedom.

tw: self harm, tw: suicide attempt, tw: eating disorders, tw: implied/referenced bullying

Butchered Bloodline by starrycassi [Rated M, 26472 words, incomplete, last updated Oct 2024]

Nathaniel's life is pretty boring. He has been a long-term patient in a mental facility for the last half of a decade, after all, so there aren't that many options to entertain oneself with. That is until Andrew Minyard breaks into his life — along with a serial killer, a chance to rebuild his life and a truth for truth deal. Or the one where after being captured along with his father, Nathaniel attempts to keep up with his own existence.

tw: graphic descriptions of violence, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced dismemberment, tw: cannibalism, tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced torture

Baby, We're Both Crazy by Detective4 [Not Rated, 7806 words, incomplete, last updated Jan 2023]

“So...Have you been here before?” Neil’s eyebrows furrowed, “What?” “To Orchard Respite. Or any other hospital I guess. This is my second time here, sixth time in a psychiatric hospital in total.” Daniel said, far too cheerfully. “This is… My first time.” “A first-timer?” Daniel’s eyes widened, “Boy, are you in for a treat." -- Teens Andrew and Neil meet for the first time in a mental hospital. They've both been committed against their will and both for different reasons. With all their multitudes of issues, can they find love?

tw: implied/referenced suicide attempt, tw: implied/referenced self harm

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sunflower1experiment · 2 days ago

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Another mouthwashing analysis

I feel like people forget that Jimmy’s character is important because it forces us to see his crimes and while it is uncomfortable and feels unnecessary.

That is the whole point of the game, what he did was unnecessary and it proves how unreliable he is and how realistic the story is. We have people like him in real life that cause these types of problems, hurt others like he did to Anya and Curly because in his pov he views them as useless or someone to clean up his mess whether he indirectly or directly caused it.

What he did to Anya, he blamed Curly, he’s blaming Curly for his crime against her. When Anya can’t handle feeding Curly the pills, she gets nauseous and upset. And there is a symbolic point in two ways, Jimmy getting angry at her for not handling/cleaning up HIS INDIRECT MESS and the fact that he expects her to act normally after Sa’ing her. Because he doesn’t see the problem, only when she asks for help or gets worried about the baby causing him problems so he runs away from the baby and belittles/ antagonizes her as if that was her fault he crashed it.

Now here’s the symbolism, Anya and Curly symbolizing each other because they both had to fawn and or ended up with flight/freeze. Because of Jimmy, Curly is not perfect or a good person and what happened to him isn’t karma.

The only karma he gets is being forced to watch Jimmy cause all of this chaos and then watching Jimmy crawl back to him and practically cannibalize Curly just because Curly isn’t here to clean up his mess.

Anya is young, so is Daisuke, they were both failed we got that bit but we also forget the part that Curly sort of symbolizes what it would be like for Anya if she had the baby with her abuser still roaming around.

Which causes her to get more depressed, his whole plan was to literally kill her and then he lies saying Curly crashed but we all know thats not true which where the irony comes in and my personal theory. Anya and Swansea probably knew especially when Anya told Swansea, and Swansea told Anya his plan.

Anya basically is giving up meanwhile Swansea was too busy getting drunk to take action when it was needed.

Now we all know this dance and repeated it many times but as a fandom we have to understand that Jimmy shows the worst in everyone as Anya said “Our worst moments don’t make us monsters” Jimmy was in his worst moment and he was portraying everyone in their worst moments meanwhile he was the monster of it all.

And he tries to repeat this quote but Polle (aka Anya) stops him. Because if that were true why did he SA her? Why did he think that he had nothing to lose? Why did he ruin Anya and Curly’s potential relationship/friendship just for a power stroke?

Because he saw Anya as an object and sees Curly as an airhead “Good Captain” whom Jimmy knows well because he was able to analyze Curly’s psych evaluation meanwhile Curly was barely able to analyze Jimmy.

They were never friends, Jimmy took advantage of Curly’s kindness and deems him this airhead, heart on the sleeve Captain. But he forgets that being a Captain comes all the stress.

Which cracks me up when he gets angry at having to do four tasks. This should’ve told everyone how useless he is, he didn’t even do anything for the past 2 months and made sure to blank that out until Anya asked for help, they saw the mouthwash and he was expecting everything to be normal.

No Jimmy, Anya is human, Swansea is human and Daisuke is human. You ruined a future doctor’s life, took a father/husband from his family and ruined a young man’s life. Because you couldn’t take responsibility.

He doesn’t even take responsibility for practically making everyone out to be people that they’re not. As he said and I quote “Pain is what makes one know you’re living.”

……..Anyone who hates him, I do not blame you, folks who like him, I still don’t blame you or anyone.

As long as folks aren’t toxic and bashing others about it, I don’t care.

We just gotta understand that when it comes to each pilot’s perspective. Jimmy’s is super unreliable meanwhile Curly’s is somewhat but he also fails terribly at being Captain. He keeps trying to be friend and Captain at the same time which is impossible unless you know how to juggle the responsibility of one of the crewmates acting out to challenge your authority.

Which is what Jimmy did twice….

And let’s also not forget that he was super selfish the whole time and when it came to judgement day. Him putting Curly in the cryopod and taking the cowardly way out, still selfish and doesn’t make him a hero. Instead it sorta makes him worse, he has all the potential to change as it shows in Swansea’s speech but doesn’t. Because he believes everything he is doing, is right.

Thats all I just wanted to rant because I always think about how he says “I’ll take care of it” he says it to Curly and practically ruins everyone’s life then says it to Anya twice and them proceeds to abuse Curly.

Then when Anya gets the chance to have her own authority, it’s to end it all. Which sucks for her because that’s how depressed she was and how stressful it was and Jimmy once again tries to make it seem like she breaks down all the time. When for 2-4 months she’s been handling Curly’s pills.

Meanwhile he broke down at having to do 5 tasks….which is actually crazy. The tasks sorta represent the months, just saying. He never did a single thing for those past months besides correct folks and talk about how he’s Captain now.

Okay Jimmy, and you can’t even be Captain. Under qualified as a pilot and under qualified as a Captain.

#mouthwashing anya #curly mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #mouthwashing swansea #mouthwashing spoilers #mouthwashing curly #mouthwashing jimmy

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demigodseameg16 · 2 days ago

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..So not only are they bashing one of the few characters of color and saying a lot about themselves by how people are defending one of the few disabled characters, they also decided that being like Alya, when written by the RIGHT PEOPLE, a girl who is journalistic, loyal to her family and friends, clever, knows what is being put down and how to spin it to her advantage and to get to the actual truth, not just the pretty picture, is a bad thing.

*cracks knuckles*

Let's begin shall we?

Number one - The defense of Alya: Aren't we tired of this same old routine? I may not agree with some of Alya's actions (less on Alya's side, more on why they occured) but reading through those Instagram comments it seems like the only negative thing that's uniting them against Alya is because she's a dark skinned French-Martinique girl who made one mistake in believing Lila. To which I say, SHE IS A CHILD. She is obviously going to make mistakes on the path of her career, and in the end, she still came to Marinette's defense! She knew Marinette would never cheat and argued against her expulsion along with Adrien! She tried getting Marinette outside when she was depressed because she was picking up how her best friend was feeling long before her actual friend could put those feelings into words! She got akumatized for Marinette because she just wanted to understand her feelings and she was scared she was failing her first friend! Or did we forget that Alya is the new kid too, who probably moved from French-Martinique to a whole continent, in a place that speaks a different form of French, to which she may be criticized for her body shape and skin color because of beauty standards laid deep in society! And also because unlike other girls her age she's already so career driven and proud of being a nerd/geek! Alya is a middle child who shoulders a ton of responsibility, she takes care of her little sisters all while running her blog, which is the most used blog in Paris, while ALSO making sure her older sibling isn't pushing herself too hard. Her mom is a full time chef at one of the fanciest hotels in Paris, so that means she's going to be working overtime, and her dad is in charge of a whole zoo, so he's working weird hours too. And we are still bashing her because of an animation error? For her asking her friend for evidence of Lila's lies, a valid question for a reporter because she just can't take the words of a best friend because that would be bias? Just because Marinette was right that one time, doesn't mean she'll be right ALL the time. So if acting like Alya is a bad thing, I'll gladly be putting on my glasses more often and start wearing a fox miraculous.

Number two - The defense of Sublime: Ladies and gentlemen, enbies of the jury, what the actual fuck. Unless Lila, a girl from a Mediterranean region in Europe, who is a naturally tan skinned girl, decided to fully commit to the "disabled" bit and chop her legs off while bleaching her skin, all while switching her DNA from most likely Southern Italy to Belgium, a French speaking country with Germanic roots, I ask of you, what the actual fuck. That's too far, even for Astruc. We know Lila is capable of what Miraculous calls "masterful disguises", and apparently in the London special her hair was blonde and her eyes were violet, but she still had her natural skin and oh I don't know, HER LEGS? WE SAW HER LEGS, YES? We may not know what Lila's "true appearance" is, but I'm going to assume it's a girl with a healthy tan, and two working legs. Sublime is pale, and doesn't have those last two. That doesn't make her Lila, BUT THAT DOESN'T MAKE HER A VILLAIN. And also, it rules her out of being Lila's accomplice, because she's been training for the Paralympics her whole life. Do you know how much training that requires? And she's doing TRACK for goodness sake. I once tried cross country only for the interest of throwing the javelin (I never got to throw the javelin). They had to sign me up for track first. My social schedule? Gone with the wind. My art time? Vanished like my dad. My rehearsal time? On life support. (Ironically, I was really good at all the stretches, and pretty fast for my condition of having, ya know, leg problems. I wouldn't be able to run with the team, but I did practices with them and I came to every meet and cheered them on and helped them stretch and got them water (and for that, I was not bullied because Track had my back. You never mess with the person who can perfectly get out a cramp in your leg, while also gives you water at the perfect temperature.)) Realistically girlie has no free time outside of that besides school, and people think she can be an ally to a supervillain SHE JUST MET? Because let me remind everyone, Sublime just moved to Paris, from Belgium. All while Hawkmoth was going down, she was in Belgium. She doesn't even know who these heroes ARE, let alone the villains.

Look, you are allowed to like who you like, and you are allowed to dislike who you dislike. But I draw the line at liking a character who basically supports a system that allows ableism, racism, harassment to run free, all in the name of her "vision". Because if Marinette is happy, then that's all that matters, right? It doesn't matter that there can be real life consequences to these type of things, for kids watching this show and seeing bad behavior being rewarded and that influencing their developmental skills, and for all those kids of color and disabled kids or combination of the both who see that they are the bad guys simply by existing in your standards, letting their feelings not be validated or be acknowledged all for some other person's happiness to be achieved. A person who is supposed to be a hero, an "inspiration for little girls everywhere". Except dark skinned girls. Oh, and disabled girls. And girls questioning their identity, whether it be heritage, gender or sexuality (because it's not just little kids who watch this show, tweens and teens watch it too). And girls that might have a bit more money than other people in your class, or girls who don't have as much money as others in your class. And for girls who aren't the standard beauty. And for boys who want a girl role model too? Sorry, you aren't important unless you are the sacrifice or love interest, preferably both. Yes, an inspiration to children everywhere indeed.

Bro as someone who uses a walking aid (a cane) and is disabled seeing the new trailer for Miraculous Ladybug makes me absolutely furious. I have never felt so much hatred for a fictional character before and yet here we are. I didn't like Marinette before but like, this just. This hits way too close to home and I know Astruc is going to frame it in a way that makes Marinette the good guy. But NOTHING excuses touching a disability aid without permission, especially fooling around with it and sabotaging it. And the fact that a younger generation is going to see this, I absolutely can't. I feel so bad for disabled children who will see this scene on TV and have their feelings be in the wrong, shown that they are the bad guys for getting upset, or heavens forbid being disabled. Screw you Astruc.

#Instagram #tw: racism #tw: harrasment #tw: albelism #tw: inequality #miraculous ladybug writing salt #miraculous ladybug discourse #marinette salt #marinette bashing #astruc salt #alya sugar #in defense of alya cesaire #sublime sugar #in defense of sublime

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