#just kind of...hopeless but trying to work against it at least. seems like hes struggling with what to do with himself as someone who didnt

[dapperrokyuu]

Dont incredibly know what Anthony's deal is, but I do think this is an interesting moment thatll come back later. It just reflects back on the concept of Living Dolls "not being their own (or a) person" that could have twisted into a sense of inferiority and/or identity issues he's potentially struggling with.

[mossyivy]

𝔹𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕒 𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕕 ℝ𝕦𝕟 [ℙ𝕋𝟙.]

DI!Leon Kennedy x (Fem)Reader

Summary: You and Leon end up critically injured. He's dying and you're faced with the reality of what could have been.

Words: 2.2k

Content Warning: Leon slowly dying, talks of family life and cliffhanger ending (might make a part two depending on how this does)

[Next Part]

You can't move.

He shouldn't move.

You're both going to die here.

It's so hard to think over the blaring sirens and bright red lights sweeping every surface of the room.

Your voice is hoarse from screaming for help from your fellow agents for so long.

He's leaned against one of the cold metal lab tables, sat up just like you are across from him. Clutching his wounded stomach, he looks up at you.

"It was good working with you for so long." He says, so nonchalantly it scares you more than most of the horrors you've seen over the years.

"It's been how long now?" You ask, trying not to feel distressed. It's the only thing you can feel right now, at least above your waist.

"Couple of years now... I still remember when you transferred to the D.S.O." His usual stoic expression softens to a smile, something you've barely gotten to see over the years but you've come to love it. Almost as much as him.

"I hated working at the C.I.A."

"Good, you were much better with us anyway." He looked around the room, realizing this "much better" he spoke of was leading to the two of you dying.

"It's been a good run. Wish I could have gone longer. Seen more. Experienced more. But this is it." You swallow the lump in your throat, it's rough and it hurts, but it's much better than anything he must be feeling with his injury.

You look up from your spot on the floor to the ceiling. The hole you both crashed through, sparking from broken wires, jagged pipes jutting out from when you went through the ceiling first, causing Leon's injury as he fell after.

"I've been through hell and back. We both have an this is how we go..." Now you're mad, peeling your eyes from the hole. You look back at Leon.

Who's just staring at you? Almost like he's admiring you.

"I feel so fucking pathetic." You comment, his head shaking in response.

"At least it wasn't one of those things. That probably would have pissed you off more." He's right, you know he's right.

"I guess." You sigh as he smiles wider, his softer side coming out.

"You're always so cute when you're mad." His smile fades as he looks down at himself, realization sinking in.

"And you're just as attractive as ever when existential dread finally gets you."

He sighed, looking back at you, trying not to look too hopeless. The number of times, Leon has almost died, he feels invincible almost, but to see someone else in this situation too? It's too much for him to feel hopeful.

"Do you have any regrets?" You ask, trying to keep the conversation going.

"A few things but mainly... Becoming a cop." You laugh at his immediate response, his smile finally coming back.

Thank God...

"You?" He asks as you nod, feeling a bit better after the laugh.

"Obsessing too much over work. Not making time for myself... Not having the family I wanted."

"You wanted a family too." He huffs, as if this was something he'd heard you say before. His head lulls to the side so you're not surprised. Leon does seem like the kind of guy to want a family.

"You too?" You ask, he nods in response. Looking at him, you notice how the color is starting to drain from his face. Blood loss was starting to get to him.

"Leon, look at me." His eyes shift as his head pops back up. He really doesn't look good. "Oh God..."

You start trying to turn on your stomach. This would be so much easier if you could feel your legs.

"Don't move." His voice surprises you for a second before you look up at him, defiant of his command, you finally make it onto your stomach.

Starting to army crawl over to him, he just watches, not saying a word. Eventually, after struggling, you're able to prop yourself up next to him. A little too close to be honest.

"You never fucking listen." He mumbles as you move his hand off his wound and push your own onto it. A soft grunt pours from his lips as he looks down at you, the annoyance he had melting away.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure not starting now. So shut up old man." You smirk at him as he lets out a sound, something similar to a laugh.

"I'm only a few years older than you."

"Still older." His bloody hand goes on top of yours. Squeezing gently as he tilts his head more, still looking at your face. Taking in every feature, every beauty mark or dimple.

"Thank you..." You nodded, taking in his abnormally content look.

It feels tense. Though there's always been an underlying tension since you two met during a case many years ago. Such obvious tension that fellow agents have asked about the two of you. Chris even asked you about it when the two of you had a mission out of the country a few years back.

"This is a shitty first date, huh?" You crack a joke, Leon not saying a word in response, just continuing to stare.

The tension remains, you both fall silent and finally the siren in the room cuts off. Sighing in relief, you lean onto him, his free arm going around your waist.

Being this close feels so natural with him. You aren't sure if it's just the familiarity or your feelings, but you enjoy it. Even in this state.

"I should have asked you out," he said, breaking the silence. Your eyes dart back up to him. He's still peering down at you with those beautiful blue eyes you love so much. He looks tired, so damn tired.

"I would've said yes." He sighs, head meeting the top of yours.

"You're not just saying that?" He asks, almost like he doesn't believe you completely. You don't know why, it's not like you have any reason to lie right now.

"No, I like you quite a lot." Biting the inside of your cheek you fight the urge to say what you've been wanting to say. Not because it's untrue, but because of fear. Fear of not being able to go back after that point. Fear of rejection.

But right now it is literal life or death... You might never have this chance again.

"I might even say... I love you." You can feel your face warm up, not daring to look away from him. Even if the feelings aren't reciprocated, you can still say you said something at least.

"I love you too. Have for a long time." He looks pained saying it, regret stirring in him as his smile fades again.

"Don't." Your free hand goes to the side of his neck, slowly sliding to the back of it. "If we die, at least we knew how we felt. We're both stubborn ass people. You know just as much as I do, this was one of the only ways we were going to say anything."

"That's true." His voice sounds so weak as he leans his forehead against yours. "I hate that you're right."

"Aren't I right 90% of the time?"

He says nothing, his weight just gets heavier on you. Looking up, you see his eyes slowly drifting close.

"No, no, no!" You slap his cheek a few times, his eyes open back up. Glassy and dazed looking. He's losing too much blood...

"I'm so tired..."

"I know! But you can't fall asleep. Keep your eyes open as long as you can." He nods gently, looking in your eyes again.

"Do you think we could have had a family together?" Leon sounded happy, asking such an out-of-place question.

"Leon..." His face just looks so... Loving, for such a rough around the edges guy. Even if he is slowly dying. "Of course."

"I wanted two girls." He chuckles, cuddling back up to you, pulling you closer with as much strength as he could with the arm around your waist. "Come home to my wife and our little princesses everyday... Spoil them rotten but not enough to be little shits."

You smile at the thought of putting yourself in place as his wife. It really does sound like something you would have wanted with him.

"I can still give you that." His eyes light up as you stroke his face with your knuckles. "Just hold on a little longer."

"White picket fence and all?"

"Whatever you want. As long as you're there." He snickers, mouth drawing into a thin line.

His lips part like he's about to say something, but then he shuts his mouth again.

"Can I kiss you? Just once." He asks, you don't even hesitate saying yes.

You both close your eyes, your lips meet his. He reacts immediately by putting his hand to the back of your neck, keeping you in place like you'd fly away any second. It's slow and passionate for a dying man. Like getting zapped after shuffling across a carpet in socks. Surprising, but not in a bad way. It's everything either of you could have asked for. Feeling his breath tickle your face, you cautiously pull back.

You can't help but smile at him. He starts drifting off again, earning a few more smacks on the cheek.

Just then, the swinging light from the hole in the ceiling starts fizzling and convulsing with electricity. Until the wire snaps, sending the light to the floor with a loud crash.

You stare at it, almost bewildered, until you feel Leon slump against you again. You turn back, shaking him furiously.

"Leon? Leon, come on! You can't sleep, please I- I need you here!" He stirs, cracking his eyes open, mumbling something incoherently. You listen carefully, making sure he keeps his eyes open. Finally, you make out what he's saying.

"I'm sorry..." You feel tears brimming your eyes, the sting blurring your vision as you blink them away.

"No, don't apologize, just keep your eyes open! I can't leave you and you aren't leaving me." Your voice cracks, still hoarse from your screaming earlier and now from being emotional. You sniffle, begging him to stay awake when you hear a door in the very far distance open.

Then you hear a faint yell.

"Leon!?"

It's Chris. Followed by Jill yelling for you.

"Anybody here!?" Rebecca calls not long after them.

They're here, help is here. Hope fills you again as you look around for anything to make noise with, knowing your voice isn't reliable anymore. Looking down, you see Leon's belt.

This is probably the stupidest plan you've ever had, but it'll make noise.

Leaning over, you quickly start taking his belt off, the buckle jingling enough to stir him for a second.

"What the... Hell?"

"I'm getting us help."

Yanking the belt out, you lay on your side pulling yourself towards the end of the metal lab table. Wrapping the belt around your arm, you smack the thick buckle against the side of the lab table.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Hello!" You hear Chris yell out, closer than before. Banging the buckle against the table side repeatedly until you feel tired.

Laying on your side, you hear the lab room door open.

"In here!" You look up, seeing Jill rushing over, Chris and Rebecca not far behind.

"Are you okay!?" She asks, looking you over.

"Leons bleeding, don't worry about me!" You command, watching Rebecca and Chris rush over to him.

"Oh God he's lost a lot of blood." Rebecca looked up at Chris. "Get him on the table."

"Can you walk?" Jill asks you, gaining your attention again.

"I can't feel my legs at all..."

"What happened?" She asks, trying to help you sit up. You look over, seeing Chris hoist Leon onto the lab table, Rebecca sitting her medical bag down and starts working as Chris rolls his sleeves up. Jill taps your cheek, making you look at her.

"Uh... We were fighting one of those things and it pushed us off the metal rafters... We fell."

"That's 5 stories! No wonder you can't walk. I'm surprised you two are even alive!"

Looking over, you see Rebecca prepping to start a blood transfusion, Chris seated on the table with his arm out. The IV was already in Leon's arms. He looks so lifeless...

Without warning, you're lifted onto Jill's shoulder and headed towards the door.

"Wait, Jill, no! I said I'd stay with him!"

"We need to get you back to our set up. Claire's calling for evac right now. He'll be fine."

"You don't know that!" You grab the door frame, trying to fight her as best as you possibly can. But in the end it was useless.

Jill yanks you free of the doorway and all you're left to see is Rebecca and Chris working on Leon as he lies there.

Unresponsive.

[frvnkcastles]

I WILL TRY TO HOLD YOU ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: Frank knows PTSD all too well, so when you struggle with nightmares and insomnia, he’s there to carry you through the hopelessness.

Warnings: PTSD, implied suicide ideation, nightmares

Word count: 2.6k

Author’s note: This is yet another very self-indulgent piece, I have C-PTSD and it really sucks but imagining Frank being there for me through it has helped majorly. I have some fics I’ve already posted on AO3 and will share here, but then I’m up to taking requests!

He almost walked past. He almost decided that it wasn’t his responsibility — he didn’t need to play hero, because in reality, he wasn’t one. He could just keep walking, go home and… then what? Lie awake, thinking about you sitting alone in that diner at 3 AM, a half-empty cup of tea in front of you while you stared blankly at the quiet surroundings, guilt in his heart?

You really weren’t his responsibility. He only knew you because of Red and Karen and the third one — whatever his name was — and because your best friend was Matt’s girlfriend and inevitably you had crossed paths with the murderer your friend’s lover was trying to defend in court. That whole situation had been years ago, and ever since then, he had seen you occasionally; your best friend’s birthday party, coincidentally the same bar, one time you even stitched up his back and he had returned the kindness by getting rid of the guy who had been showing up at the school you worked to harass you. It had been small interactions, not enough to make you friends but enough for Frank to sigh in defeat and retrace his steps to the door of the 24/7 diner.

Considering it was late — or early? — it was dead silent and deserted in the diner, and so, the ring of the small bell got the attention of the single waitress as well as you. You didn’t turn around, though, but Frank didn’t miss the obvious flinch in your figure as you snapped out of your thoughts and rubbed your hand across your face tiredly.

His boots stomped against the floortiles as he made his way to you, and trying to seem as unthreatening as possible, he sank onto the seat across from yours. You seemed alarmed at first, but at the sight of his familiar, albeit rough features, your eyes softened and the look crossing your face was almost relieved. He couldn’t deny his heart flipped at that.

”Hey, sweetheart”, he rasped, tilting his head at you, ”kinda late, ain’t it?” You knew that was his way of giving you a chance to talk about what was troubling you, but you politely rejected with a soft smile.

”Can’t sleep”, you stated simply before inhaling and rubbing your eyes and then nodding at the peek of his vest underneath his heavy jacket. ”Busy night?”

He got the hint — you wanted to change the subject.

Licking his lips, he nodded back at you before shifting his jacket over the Kevlar that no one else but you was allowed to see right now. ”Could say that”, he chuckled, but when he saw your tired eyes scanning his body, he gave you a look, ”’m fine, though.” At that, you looked back at his face, stifling a nervous smile.

”Sorry”, you whispered, ”force of habit.”

He laughed quietly at that, signalling for the waitress to head over, which made your stomach churn — he was staying, then. ”Can’t help but feel a lil’ guilty that a school teacher’s made a habit of stitching up my sorry ass”, he noted half-jokingly once he had politely asked for a cup of black coffee, and you returned the chuckle. That made him feel like he had achieved something; if he couldn’t make all your troubles go away, at least he had made you laugh. And that smile? Worth a million bucks, if you asked him.

”It’s my pleasure, really. Seriously, if you’re ever in need of a fixing-up at some ungodly hour…”, you clicked your tongue and gestured at yourself, ”I’m your person.” And Frank… he quite liked the sound of that.

”Sorry ya can’t sleep”, he offered quietly, a sigh slipping from his mouth. ”Not sayin’ we in the same situation, but I do know it can be hell. You don’t deserve that, sweetheart”, he continued, and with a quiet smile, you nodded.

”I appreciate that”, you whispered before smiling at the waitress who brought Frank his coffee. ”At least I got this diner.”

Frank took those words seriously.

He quickly made a habit of walking past the place whenever he was out and about, and sometimes, he’d find you there and other times your booth was empty. On those nights he hoped it was because you had managed to sleep, but after catching up the next time, he’d soon find out you were just trying to save some money or feeling too attached to your mattress to go every night.

He never asked too many questions, though. He gave you the opportunity to share, but he didn’t dig too deep. He respected your boundaries.

Then, on one January night, he willingly crossed that boundary just to make sure you weren’t in any immediate danger.

He couldn’t believe how giddy he felt strolling up to your table, a crooked smirk dancing on his lips until he sat down and saw the bruised eye on you, accompanied by a haphazardly applied band-aid on the bleeding corner of your eyebrow.

”What the fuck happened?” his breath hitched, ”someone do this to you?” He was more than ready to pull his guns out, but the defeated sigh and shake of your head calmed him at least a bit.

”It’s stupid… it’s so stupid—I—I woke up from a nightmare and I—I, uh, flinched so hard that I hit my face into my nightstand”, you explained quietly, fighting back tears that you made sure to wipe from your eyes before chuckling wryly. ”Go ahead, laugh”, you encouraged, waiting for the amusement to spread out on Frank’s face, but it never did.

”Hey, sweetheart… Shit, I’d never. You need me to look at that?” he offered, concern visible in his eyes, although he was less inclined to turn to violence, now.

You waved your hand at him to dismiss the idea. ”It’s okay, I’ll… I’ll manage”, you reassured before sniffling and taking a sip of your tea — full of sugar and honey, just how you liked it.

”Aight, well, ya wanna talk about the nightmare, hm?” Frank tilted his head at you, attentive and gentle as he narrowed his eyes and inspected the sadness written all over you. The sheer, bone-deep exhaustion.

You shook your head. ”It’s just…”, you took in a deep breath before your smile turned upside down and you inevitably started to cry. ”That’s PTSD for you, I guess.”

Those words, heavy as they were, set something right in Frank’s chest. He would have never insisted he knew exactly what you were going through, and he would have never wanted you to tell him the same. But at the end of the day, it was the same disorder haunting your minds and bodies, the same disorder making your life Hell whether you were awake or asleep.

”I just really hate that I can’t escape my problems by going to sleep. If anything, sleeping makes me feel less safe than being awake. And I hate that nighttime has to be a trigger for me, ’cause guess what, it comes around every single day. There’s no escape and I—”, you rambled on before sighing in defeat and letting your head fall between your arms. ”I am so tired of fighting. I just want to—”

”Give up?” Frank interrupted with his raspy voice, and you immediately looked up. Instead of judgment, his face was full of understanding, and you found the courage to nod in agreement. ”Look, I, uh, I get it. PTSD… ’s no easy feat. You’re a fuckin’ badass for takin’ on it every day. I mean it. I know what it’s like to have nothin’ to wake up for. Wonderin’ if it’d be better to just check out and end the pain yourself. But the fact that you still haven’t, that makes you stronger than any disorder”, he went on. Somehow, hearing those words come from him… it meant something. More than coming from a shrink or a doctor. He understood you.

That realization was what broke you. You had felt so alone for so long, navigating this tragic mess of gray days blending into each other, and here he was — hardly an angel, hardly a bright light, but he still radiated hope and courage to you. You burst into tears, first a loud sob but once the embarrassment kicked at your heart, you stifled the cries with your hand clasped against your mouth and squeezed your eyes shut.

Frank didn’t hesitate. He got up from his seat and scooched in next to you, muttering a low hey, hey, hey as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and let your head fall against his chest. He hushed you gently, fingertips instinctively caressing your hair while letting you cry it out. He fought the urge to tear up himself, wondering what exactly he had stopped you from doing by showing up, and thanking God — if there was any — for letting him intervene.

”Hey, you listen to me, sweetheart. Whenever ya up, can’t sleep, you call me. I’m there. Aight? Don’t want you all alone thinkin’ these things”, he spoke quietly, his voice like gravel as his lips brushed against your ear. ”Promise me, huh? You ain’t gonna do anythin’ rash?” he insisted, and wiping your eyes, you gave him a nod.

”I promise.”

It took you three days to get the courage to dial in the phone number he had scribbled on a napkin for you. You hadn’t been sleeping the entire week, but it was far too easy for you to overthink and convince yourself that Frank had just been a decent person who had seen someone in a crisis. Would it really be okay to call him up at 3 AM, beg for him to spend the night with you so you could have a momentary feeling of safety and peace?

Fuck it, you decided eventually. You had tried literally everything else, from breathing exercises to actual exercise, from drinking to quitting everything. Insomnia was simply your worst enemy and if there was anyone you trusted to defend you, it was Frank.

”Everythin’ OK?” The sound of his curt voice across the speaker made your muscles tense with anxiety — but you tried to remind yourself, that’s what he always sounded like. He wasn’t mad at you.

No, he was concerned.

”You said I could call”, you blurted out, twisting your pillow between your arms while sitting on your bed. ”I—I can’t sleep. Can you stop by?” you whispered, almost ashamed of how fragile you sounded, pleading for him.

The momentary silence that followed made you sick to your stomach. Eventually, he spoke up. ”I’ll be there in 20. Hang in there for me, sweetheart.” With that, the call ended, and you dropped your phone on the mattress to bury your face in your hands and groan.

God, this would have been so much easier if your heart could rest easy near him, or even at the mention of him. You weren’t supposed to go catching feelings for him, but how could you not? He was everything, and above all, right now he was the only person who even remotely understood what you were going through and what you needed.

Truthfully, Frank had begun to feel the same way. Your pasts couldn’t be compared, they weren’t the same and your pains weren’t equal, but for the first time in forever, he felt… seen. Heard. He felt like he had found someone who could handle him the way he was, someone who he wanted to help deal, in return. He didn’t feel so out of place by your side, if anything, he felt at peace. Like his head could quiet down and his soul began to heal.

The knock on your door came sooner than you had expected, and you rushed with your fuzzy socks sliding across the floorboards. You felt so small when you opened the door and his towering frame swallowed you whole, bringing a new warmth into your tiny apartment as he stepped in.

”Hey, you good?” he inspected you head to toe, his hands in his pockets like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

No fuckin’ kiddin’. Maybe he was old-fashioned, but being allowed in your space felt like an honor. Intimate, even. It required a specific amount of trust, and even though it wasn’t the first time he had paid a visit, it was the first time under these conditions. There was no bleeding wound to stitch, just the monsters in your bed.

”You can take your jacket off”, you gestured at him, ”unless, uh, you need to get going soon. I really don’t want to—”

”Respectfully, sweetheart, I’mma lose it if you tell me you’re a burden. I’m here, ’cause I wanna be. Got that?” he spoke, his voice stern but the look in his eyes soft, just like the slight curve on his lips. It made you chuckle and relax a little, your shoulders rolling as you nodded and thanked him.

”I’m really tired”, you laughed weakly, rubbing your eye for emphasis. ”I—I don’t know how this works”, you stuttered, at which Frank chuckled quietly.

”There ain’t a rulebook. We can stay up and talk shit if you’d prefer. But if you wanna sleep…”, he nodded towards the bedroom, and with a shaky exhale, you repeated his nod.

”I’m scared of the nightmares”, you admitted. You paused, then, not sure where Frank was going to draw the line, but it seemed he was all in — so you took the plunge. ”Can I ask you to lay with me?” you queried, and without a second’s hesitance, he nodded and shrugged his jacket off of his shoulders. He didn’t say anything, just proceeded to hang it up and kick off his boots, and supposing that was your cue, you shuffled to the bedroom.

It was late, and you had already been trying to sleep, so you were all dressed in your PJs and the covers were undone, ready for you to slip in. The mattress had gone cold in your absence, but that wasn’t the only reason why you shivered when you got under the covers and watched Frank stride into the room. He made sure to flick off all lights in his path, before sitting on the edge of the bed and fluffing the pillow on what seemed to be his side, now.

He sat up against the headboard, his big figure instantly making you feel safe. You took a beat to look at how the moonlight illuminated his jawline, the bruises around his face seeming almost beautiful in their different shades and sizes. When he turned to you and you were caught staring, you ducked your gaze, and Frank snorted at the lack of covertness.

”C’mere”, he muttered, widening an arm for you. You took a second to realize what he was offering, but you quickly scooted into his side, letting him envelope you in a comforting embrace. You let the softness of his sweater lull you towards sleep, concentrating on the even rise and fall of his chest with your fingertips draped over his stomach.

”’M right here, okay? Anythin’ happens, I gotchu. Any nightmares, we’ll breathe through ’em together”, he promised quietly, his voice reverbrating against the top of your head as he exhaled long and slow. ”I won’t let anythin’ happen to you.”

And fuck, you believed every word. You almost didn’t even recognize the feeling in your heart, but it was safety, making its return after all these months. You felt safe with him, knowing that even if nightmares would still haunt you, he’d be right there to guide you through it. That was all you needed. He was all you needed.

Holding you tight, Frank closed his own eyes and breathed. It was no easy thought to accept, but he knew it was the same for himself — you were all he needed.

[dujour13]

Ok I love Sia but I really want to know about Saedra! How about ❤️🤍💔💘💯 for her?

Loads of hearts! Thank you Ash! ❤️❤️❤️ Excited to talk about Saedra some more. She’s still in early Act III so she hasn’t been put through all the horrors yet. We’ll see how she holds up.

from this oc ask game

❤️ RED HEART — what are three of your oc's positive traits?

Loyal – When Saedra decides you’re in, you’re in for life. You’re one of Her People, and she’ll defend your most indefensible actions with cold ferocity. This is multiplied by a thousand with her tadpole buddies.

Non-judgmental – Her sex positivity extends beyond the mere sexual. We all have our kinks and quirks, we all have our struggles. Saedra’s a big city girl and the last person to judge someone on appearance, race, religion or even their acts. Very much “you do you.” Unless that goes against point 1 loyalty.

Affectionate – Saedra’s sex drive is really just an extension of this. People (of all kinds) are beautiful and feel good. Even after she has to friendzone a couple of the tadpole buddies she’s always up to give someone shoulder rubs.

🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits?

Drive – Saedra has always longed to stake out her place in the world, to become powerful enough to live safely, comfortably and most of all, on her own terms. She hoped that would happen through diligent study of wizardry, but she never did manage to make ends meet with her bartending job, which drove her to a pact with a satyr.

Independence – The irony being that all she really wants is freedom. She’s using the satyr as a steppingstone because she was beginning to despair of succeeding in her wizardry studies, but ultimately she hopes to be able to discard him. Many of her decisions stem from suspicion that someone in power is trying to use her.

Curiosity – She will poke monsters with a stick. She will drink potions. She will spin the wheel.

💔 BROKEN HEART — what are three of your oc's negative traits?

Loyal (again) – She doesn’t care how nice a person you seem. If you threaten her vampire spawn / hopeless wizard / wonderfully blunt githyanki bff / etc. you will have to be neutralized and it’s your problem, not hers.

Averse to commitment– The last thing Saedra is looking for is love. The ball and chain. She just wants everyone to get along and feel good and take a little roll in the sheets.

Grudges – As her story progresses I can see Saedra becoming bitter towards those who have wronged her and Her People, especially those in positions of power. She could be capable of a lot of gratuitous violence to scratch that itch I’m afraid, especially if encouraged by certain companions.

💘 HEART WITH ARROW — what and/or who do(es) your oc consider the most important to them?

Herself first and foremost. This is not evil selfishness (at least at this stage) but a drive to take hold of her own destiny.

Her tadpole buddies have become more than just family, closer even than the group of orphans she grew up with. They’re like extensions of her own body at this point. But the complicated feelings she’s experiencing for Astarion are becoming hard to ignore.

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

Saedra has no idea what her satyr patron really wants from her but he once mentioned “three spinsters” whose threads guided him to her. This makes her deeply uneasy.

She became extremely flustered by fantasies of cuddling (and only cuddling) with Astarion and she even blushed when she finally worked up the courage to suggest the idea. This woman never blushes at anything. Of course he was terrible about it. “I can smell the blood rushing to your cheeks darling, don’t try to hide it.”

She’s an expert bartender whose talents went unappreciated in a poor quarter of Baldur’s Gate. To make ends meet while she studied magic she worked in a little bar in Eastway, barely subsisting on measly tips and very little sleep, but she did apply herself to the job and knows how to make 106 different cocktails with the most attractive garnish.

Here she is enjoying a clown performance at the circus

[lake-lady]

Thank you for being kind idk sometimes its nice to admit to a stranger than to a friend first. I have depression too but I go to therapy and take meds. I told him I would help him get help. I would set up all the appointments for him. I would clean his room. I would be the stronger one for him while he gets back on his feet. And he wouldn't be a burden at all. I would never make him feel like it either. I said sometimes we fuck up and I wouldn't hold it against him. He said he didn't want any help and that he knows he is always going to be this way. I told him it doesn't have to be like that. He deserves love and happiness. I am so hurt and heartbroken but I don't want to become a cynic from all of this. It just seems too convenient.

I always understand when someone is struggling to put effort into relationships because of their mental illness but people with mental illness (including me!) are still responsible for hurting the people we hurt. It sounds like he wasn't actively seeking help and didn't want to either...which is self destructive at the very least. I agree that he deserves happiness but it's also everyone's own responsibility to put in the work for themselves so they might one day be happy. No one else can replace the work you do for your own mentall wellbeing. And I know how fucking hard that work can be and how hopeless it seems but I still do it anyway, because how else will I survive?

I sometimes wonder why people who aren't working through their problems enter relationships. I'm not so much a "if you don't love yourself nobody else will" kind of person but I will say. If you are actively self destructive and not working on your mental health when you have severe issues, it's probably best for you to focus on yourself and not enter a relationship. People will still love you, no matter what, but it's a recipe for disaster to enter a relationship if you've given up on trying to get better. In my experience it either leads to intense codependency or a partner breaking it off way too late in the rudest way imaginable and causing more pain than necessary.

I am a cynic when it comes to romance so I'm not good at this part but I think deep down I know that it helped you learn what you DON'T want in a relationship. You don't want a partner who hasn't worked through their own issues and doesn't want to. You want a partner who recognizes that despite their mental illness they won't "always be this way" (we all change!), puts effort into their wellbeing out of respect for themselves, and sees support from you as a reason to love you, not push you away. Things can only get better for you now that you know this.

[resonance-eternal]

.

It's been a while, hasn't it? I'm sorry I missed your last few birthdays. It's not that I don't think of you. January 31st is still etched in my brain. I still sometimes try to find ways to observe it, but it's been hard. I don't really know how to address you after everything that happened. You get that, right? Idfk, I can't find the words, I suck at this haha.

You pointed a gun at mom. Tried to splash bleach in her face. What the fuck am I supposed to think about that? Like you know I'm fucked up about that, but it's an elephant in the room. Fuck's sake. I'm glad that it was you that caught yourself eventually, mom was so quick to stop myself from screaming after she told me what happened, talked about that sudden lucidity. Told her to call the cops and arrest you. Fuck, man. Why? Why did this happen to you? You didn't deserve this shit. WE didn't deserve this shit. But I don't hold it against you, you were so far gone and fucked up on so many drugs; was the only way to cope out there, shit was so hopeless, and you seemed so scared by the end. I knew something was wrong and you were hurt. You had this expression. I didn't see that look in your eye often, the sheer vulnerability and pain. Like every time I'd see you examining sea-life on the shorelines up here. I saw it a lot when you'd listen to Blue October with us, or Nine Inch Nails. I still listen to them, by the way! You remember Trent's "Ghosts" project? He released two new entries back in 2020. I think you would've loved them, it still goes down that "creepy Aphex Twin" kinda vibe. I know you never liked those, but I dunno. They make me think of you. They make me think of many I've lost, but also like many that never really happened to begin with. That sounds like stupid word salad, I know. But it felt right to say.

All those last days with you, I didn't know what to say after you were released from jail. I know you wanted psychiatric help, and you never really got what you needed there. I'm forever angry, I feel like they let you die. But sometimes that sensation creeps up and I remember the things I said after the incident. Or maybe it was the things I didn't say? It doesn't matter. The point is I wasn't there for you and I wasn't kind to you. I didn't know what to do. I was one kid struggling to live, themselves. But if you knew I didn't hate you, that I still loved you, that I still called you my dad, would you have waited at least one more day? Just one more day where I could see you. Maybe I could get you help if I went back in time today. I have what it takes, and the laws up here in Washington would have wiped away all your criminal history! I could have worked. Why did you fucking leave us? Mom and little Jay still wake up crying, locked doors still send Jay spiraling. It's been 6 years. Even if I had one day where I could have told you I loved you. I fucking hate knowing that I let things end so coldly between you and I. And I get scared, I sometimes wonder if you'd be disappointed in me today if you were still here. I made such colossal fuckups and did such reprehensible shit. I don't do anything with my life and I'm cold, lonely, boring and forgettable. I don't know if you'd ever see me as a girl, if you'd accept the real me. You always made those jokes when you were drunk, I wished you did that less but I was so spineless. I feel like no matter which way I slice it, I'm failing.

You were such a mess of a father, but god you fucking tried. But I still have to acknowledge you and mom abused me, when you were both still using. Mom's clean again now, and she finished her degree. I think you'd be really proud of her.

There's nothing I can do or say to really make amends anymore. You're dead. Gone. Nothing left. I hadn't seen you for weaks. I didn't even see your body. I would have fallen apart and I'm too chicken shit to handle that.

I don't believe in the afterlife, but I hope when this is all over I can find you again. I want to be your daughter, and I wanna catch up with you again. Talk about computer science and engineering shit like we used to. Watch shitty arthouse films. I fucking wish I took you up on that when I was younger. I was such trash. I'm done. I can't write anymore. I love you, dad. You left us too soon, and I'm sorry I didn't do more

[kaunis-sielu]

Fire Dogs: 2

It’s been almost a week since Steve, Sam and Bucky came to fight the wildfires. You’ve got a routine down with the guys, and so does Cooper. You always have food ready for them when they leave and when they come home. Coffee is always ready for them when they leave and Cooper is waiting at the door for them when they get home.

Each man has taken huge comfort from your therapy dog, and he loves all the extra attention he’s getting from the three men. Cooper does force his way into each of their rooms at one time or another over the week and you’ve got a feeling that those won’t be the only time you’re alone on the couch.

Cooper had followed Steve into his room tonight and you’d gone to bed alone.

You wake as you’re being lifted. “What the hell?” You gasp with a start but you’re shushed softly, his scent fills your nose and you calm quickly.

“It’s me Fawn. I’m putting you to bed.” Steve says softly as he carries you up to your bedroom. “I’m gonna share a room with Buck, you can’t keep sleeping on the couch.”

“No, you’re fighting the fires. I’m just hanging out here.”

“And getting up at all hours to take care of us.” He argues as you try to get out of his grip. “Fawn, I’m not backing down from this one.” He says, his Alpha coming out as he tightens the hold he has on you, his face is close to yours, close enough for you to see the little flecks of green in those blue eyes of his. You sigh and loop an arm around his neck,

“Fine.” You grumble, you’ve heard the Alpha command in his voice, the voice that you literally can’t argue with. “But wouldn’t it make more sense for Sam and Bucky to share?”

“You’d think. If they have too much together time they get snippy. So I’ll just bounce between the two beds.”

“Are you sure?” You hope to change his mind but his face tells you that isn’t happening.

“Yes. You’ve opened your home to us, let us borrow your dog and taken care of us. You deserve your bedroom.” He says shoving open the door with his foot. He sets you gently on your feet and then gives you a soft smile. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He leaves and closes the door gently behind him. You climb into your bed and sigh softly, it is nice being back in your bed. Not that you’ll ever tell Steve that. It smells like him, it’s comforting and you fall asleep quickly.

You’re up a couple hours later, you pass a sleepy looking Steve in the hallway and a slightly confused Cooper. You head down the stairs and get some coffee going for Sam and pop the blueberry bagel he likes into the toaster. Then you move on to Bucky’s food. You take the plate you’d prepared the night before out of the fridge and peel off the cover. You turn the oven on warm and slide the plate in then go back up to bed and find Cooper sprawled out across it,

“Move over Coop.” You grumble as you climb back into bed. You’re asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillow.

The next time you wake it’s 8:30 and you’ve got to get food ready for Steve. You can hear him in the shower as you head back down to the kitchen. You like to make a full breakfast for the first meal to make sure that they don’t get hungry too quickly while they’re working. Today you’re planning on doing breakfast burritos, something that you can each assemble on your own. Steve comes down a half hour later, just as you’re wrapping up your own burrito.

“How did you sleep?” He asks reaching for a shell.

“Pretty good, Cooper is a bed hog.”

“I’ve noticed he likes to be almost on top of you when he sleeps with you.”

“Part of his training. The weight can help people with anxiety or stress and you all have such high stress jobs.”

“We really appreciate both of you. You sound like the best host from what we’ve heard from the other guys.”

“I’ve always been a caregiver so it’s nice having people to help. Even if I can’t help in the same way that you guys do.”

“Believe me, knowing that we can come home to a bed, good food, a kind soul and a therapy dog is more help than you’ll ever know.” You can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face,

“Good. Any requests for dinner tonight?”

“Something pasta?” He offers finishing off his breakfast.

“Okay.” You agree and hold a hand out for his plate.

“Thank you, for everything.” You nod as he stands up and heads for the door.

“Be safe.” You blurt before you can stop yourself.

“I will.” He says, a pleased scent rolls off of him before he heads out to work. Your conversation with him has given you an idea, but you’re going to need some help.

You get to calling other therapy dog handlers in the area. You know that it’s a big ask for them to come to the base of the mountain when it’s on fire but it’s for a good cause. You’ll set up with as many dogs for as many shifts as you can, every couple of days to give the dogs a bit of a break, the handlers too but mostly the dogs.

You’re able to get fifteen people in the area and you have two dogs per shift, even the 4 am shift. You’re able to rotate the dogs in a couple of shifts, so that no one is going too often and the dogs can get a little bit of a break.

You’re so excited that you’re able to do this for them, and you get to start today. You decide to head to basecamp to let Steve know. You want to make sure that the firefighters stop at Blots coffee shop before they head back to their homes tonight. You head toward base camp, it’s only a few miles up the mountain and park near one of the trails you know that skirts the forest. The smoke is worse here than it is near your house but it’s not terrible. You grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder then make your way up toward Pancho’s Bar where you know they run the fire fighting operation.

As you walk the air gets thicker with smoke, it’s not so bad that you can’t breathe but you can taste the smoke on every inhale. Before you get to Pancho’s you see Steve a little further down the street talking to two other firefighters. He seems so much bigger in all of his gear, as you make your way toward him he sees you and his brows furrow. He pushes past the other firefighters and makes his way to you with long strides.

“Fawn?”

“Hey,” you say and Steve looks, almost worried.

“Fawn, what are you doing up here? Is everything okay?”

“I’ve got a surprise for the firefighters. Down in town.” You tell him suppressing a cough, “I didn’t want anyone to miss it so I thought I’d come up.”

“Oh, hey Grey.” You have to stop yourself from frowning at Brock, he’s such a jerk and his smell is always so sour.

“Brock.” You say before you start to cough.

“C’mere,” Steve says pulling his face mask away from him you step closer and when he hands it to you you take it. “Take a couple of deep breaths for me okay?” He says and cool fresh air tinted with his scent flows into the mask that you hold over your mouth and nose. It soothes you more than you’d like it to. “The smoke is way worse up here. You should head back to town.”

“Please let people know to come down to Blots for the surprise okay?”

“So how do you know Grey?” You do frown this time.

“Sam, Bucky and I are staying at her place.” Steve says gruffly not looking at Brock but keeping an eye on you. You hand Steve back the mask and give him a little smile. “I’ll make sure to tell people. Please go right back to town.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Bye Grey!” Brock calls and before you can leave Steve stops you with a gentle hand on your arm.

“Why does he keep calling you that?”

“Because I’m boring. Like the color grey, there’s nothing exciting about me.” Anger crosses his face and he glares in Brock’s direction.

“That isn’t-“ he pauses as you cough again and he once more passes you his mask, “breathe.” You do as he says, “we’ll talk about this back at the house. But that’s not true okay? It’s not true.” You nod then hand back the mask. “How did you even get up here?”

“There’s a trail that Coop and I use a lot, on the edge of the woods and it’s quick and easy.”

“Straight home okay?”

“Yea.” You agree before realizing that he’s just given you an Alpha command, you glance over your shoulder at him and when you see he’s watching give him a little wave before you start walking back down the mountain. You feel his eyes on you until you round the corner. The wind has picked up a bit since you’d come up but it’s nice, and moving the smoke further up hill. It probably doesn’t make fighting the fires easier but at least it’s not pushing anything downhill.

You hear the crack but it doesn’t register until it’s too late. The branch hits you in the shoulder and you collapse under the weight of it.

You’re dazed, you must’ve hit your head because it’s throbbing but you’re not sure if you’ve lost consciousness or not. Your right arm is pinned under the massive branch and your left has some wiggle room but not enough to do you any good, especially with the throbbing pain in your left shoulder. You try to push with your legs to slide yourself out from under the branch but have no luck. Your phone is in your right pocket, right where you can’t reach it. But your watch might be able to help you still.

“Friday?” It beeps twice, “call Steve.” He’s the first person you think of.

“Calling Steve on Stark Phone.”

“Call him on watch!” You say but it doesn’t. “Damn it!” You watch the watch until it says connected. “Steve! I don’t know if you can hear me but I’m pinned under a branch. Halfway to my car. God please be able to hear me. I can’t reach my phone. I really need help.” You take a steadying breath to try and keep yourself calm. “Go down the hill by the forest, you can’t miss me. Please help.” You try to free yourself again but it’s hopeless, the branch is too heavy and you manage nothing.

God you hope that Steve heard you, or that his voicemail did. You don’t know how long you lay there, occasionally struggling against the branch but you suddenly hear him.

“Fawn!”

“Steve! I’m here!”

“Fawn! Keep yelling Honey!”

“I’m here! By the woods! Steve!” You can’t see him yet but you swear that you can smell him, so you keep yelling, “I’m here! Over here!”

“I see you Fawn! I’m coming.” Sure enough a set of hands lift the log off of you and another set pulls you out from under it. “Don’t move.” Steve says easing you gently back onto the ground. “Did you hit your head?”

“I don’t know. I think so?”

“Buck, check for concussion.” He orders from where he’s holding your head.

“Bucky? What time is it?”

“Almost 7. Sam called about an hour ago, but I didn’t answer because I was busy. When you called I knew something was wrong.”

“Steve calm down.” Bucky growls pulling a flashlight from his pocket.

“I feel like such an idiot.” You whisper as Steve takes a deep breath. Bucky shines a flashlight in your eyes then holds up a finger.

“Follow the finger.” He says and you do as he says and he gives you a smile. “You’re good.”

“I’m just glad we found you.” Steve says softly. “And that you’re okay. Does anything hurt before we move you?”

“My left shoulder but that’s what the branch hit first.”

“I’m going to just check it really quick okay?” Bucky says and you nod, he gently probes at your shoulder. He hits where the branch did and you hiss at the jolt of pain, a low growl comes from Steve. Bucky runs you through a couple of moves to see if it’s dislocated and once he’s satisfied that it’s not he gives you the all clear and Steve helps you to your feet.

“Buck, let Fury know I’m going back with Fawn.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Last time I let you go alone you got hit by a branch.”

“That’s what we call a freak accident.”

“I’m still not letting you go alone.”

“But you’ll miss the surprise!”

“I’m staying with a therapy dog. I don’t need to go meet other ones.” He huffs, you can practically feel the irritation rolling off of him. You frown but he has a point, you glare up at him, “Let’s go Fawn.”

“Stop it.” You snap, even though your stomach lurches at your defiance of his Alpha command.

“Stop what?”

“You keep Alpha commanding me!” He looks surprised for just a second then schools his expression.

“I’m sorry.” He says softly, “I didn’t mean to. When an Omega does something dangerous it just kind of happens.” You stare at him, how the hell does he know you’re an Omega?

“I’m not an Omega. I’m a Beta.” He looks sharply over at you his eyes narrowing.

“Huh,” he doesn’t say anything else but gestures for you to follow him down the mountain.

When you get to your car you look over at Steve, still in all his gear.

“Do you need to go get anything?”

“Buck can drive the truck back rather than getting a ride. Do you want me to drive?”

“If you don’t mind.” You hand him the keys, you’ve got one hell of a headache and your shoulder is throbbing but Bucky gave you the okay to go. After you get in the car and buckle you sigh softly before muttering, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Causing problems. I was just so excited about the dogs that I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have gone up.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” He agrees, “I had a big long speech ready for you but you beat me to it.” You laugh softly then wince, laughing hurts. “Let me know if we need to take you to the ER.”

“I will.”

“If you’re comfortable I’d like to take a look at your shoulder and probably ribs before we go to bed. Bucky is our best EMT but I still know what I’m doing.”

“Fine,” you grumble and he shoots you a look. “I’ve learned over the last week it’s just easier not to argue with you. Besides, I don’t need you Alpha commanding me again.”

“Damn right it’s best not to argue with me. But I won’t Alpha command you to do anything, at least I won’t on purpose. Please let me know if I do again okay?”

“Oh, okay.” You’re surprised, but you do appreciate it.

Tag list:

@memyselfandmaddox @thefanficfaerie @patzammit @dsakita @dramadreamer14 @killcomet @thesassmisstress @andahugaroundtheneck @loving-life-my-way @thefridgeismybestie @dumblani @im-just-another-monster @mywinterwolf @giggleberts @biskwitmamaw @geeksareunique @paintballkid711 @lumar014 @also-fangirlinsweden @connie326 @inkedaztec @eralen @valsworldofcreativity @strangersstranger

[amethystpath-writes]

Monsters and Legends

Don’t worry, it’s fluff :)

(NOT A PR0MPT)

Villain and hero need to stop a bigger villain by somehow acting as a couple, only for them to share a single room and a single bed (im grinning so hard rn) I giggled when I read this request:

******

The phone rang once, twice, three times.

“Why are you calling me?” Hero’s voice was a groan, one annoyed and filled with malice- or was it anxiousness?

Villain understood he was probably the last person Hero would want to hear from. Why would the bad guy of the city be calling her anyways, and how’d he find her number? Those were questions which Hero could ask later. For now- “I need your help,” Villain pleaded right away.

“You need my help?” Hero laughed brittlely on the other end of the line. That’s how Villain heard it, at least. “What makes you think I would ever help y-”

“Supervillain.”

The line went silent as the horror of such a simple name settled in. It wouldn’t matter to Hero how Supervillain’s name still existed- why it was still being muttered, unforgotten. All that meant was that Supervillain was still prevalent, which further meant something needed to be done.

“Is he still alive?”

Well, I suppose that’s a question I can answer for now. “Yes, that’s why I need you. I can’t vanquish him on my own, Hero.”

Yeah? What was Hero supposed to do about it? She wasn’t capable of fighting Supervillain, even if she fought him alongside Villain. The two of them together were still no match for such a beast, a mistake made by nature. Supervillain wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for his ill intentions.

“We beat him before, Hero,” Villain said after another long silence. “We can do it again.”

Hero said, “If we beat him before, then why is he back?” This wasn’t the first time Hero felt hopeless. Even before Supervillain, she had days where she was convinced Villain was unbeatable. She got past that part of her depression, obviously, but it didn’t mean that anxiety didn’t exist elsewhere- such as when it came to Supervillain. “Villain, I quit this business after the first round. I can’t…I can’t do it again.”

“I know.” Villain nodded, even knowing Hero wouldn’t see it on the phone pressed against her ear. “I know, and I get it.”

“If you did, you wouldn’t have called.”

Villain sighed. Maybe she was right, but… “You’re the only one I know who can pull this off.”

“Pull what off, Villain? What plan have you made up that you think might actually be enough? We killed Supervillain. We killed him, and yet you’re telling me that he’s alive? We can’t beat him.”

How could Villain say this? How did he portray this compliment without it sounding like an insult? “Where you lack in strength, you lead in intelligence. You- you’re able to think things out in a moment, whereas it takes me ages. You are so much more capable than you think you are and, believe it or not, I have always admired you.”

Right. Hero wasn’t so certain Villain was telling the truth. Sure, she was smart, and she could even admit that, but…intelligence couldn’t defeat an undead man. Even if it did, what made Villain say something kind to her? He would never spare a compliment to someone as poor as Hero; he wouldn’t spare an insult either. And anyways, who would admire an anxious mess? Not a villain, not by any means, right?

“Why do you need me? What has made you turn to a last resort?” Last resort, meaning asking anyone for help when Villain preferred to work alone.

Villain’s palms were sweating, his phone nearly sliding out of his hand the longer he remained on the line. “He wants my allegiance. Rejecting him would be a death sentence, and you know it. I don’t want to die. Not now. Not just yet. At the same time, I am not going to work for or with this guy.”

Hero was still failing to understand. “How do I fit into this,” she rephrased, “beyond you needing my intelligence?”

“Supervillain never knew you. He doesn’t know your face, your name, your priorities.”

“And?”

“And I told him I have a wife who insists on working with me.”

No. No, no, no. No. But she didn’t say this. “So, you are asking me to jeopardize my own life by appearing at your side as a fake wife who doesn’t know how to properly defend herself.”

“I could teach you, Hero. I’m trained. Strength means nothing if your opponent has technique. I can teach you,” Villain repeated, hands heating impossibly more. “Do this for me and I’ll- I’ll…”

Precisely. “There is nothing you can offer me, Villain.”

“If you don’t do this,” Villain returned, gripping his phone with white knuckles, and curled toes which dug into his carpeted floor, “everyone else will suffer for it. Yourself, included. I don’t know about you, but I think you’ve suffered enough.”

You don’t mean that, Hero wanted to say. You don’t mean anything nice that you’re saying. You’re just desperate. You know that I’ll do anything if it means someone will tell me they’re proud of me at the end of the day. She thought this of everyone- even herself, only she knew someone else was more likely to say they were proud of her than herself.

How did anyone ever call her a hero when she couldn’t even save her own mind from destroying itself?

Easy.

She was a villain to herself, and a hero to others.

“How do I know he’s alive? Am I supposed to take your word for it?”

Villain almost said yes, but he knew Hero would require proof. She didn’t trust herself, let alone anyone else in the world. “There is no evidence of him, but if you’d like to handcuff me every moment we are alone, then I suppose I will hand that to you as your security.”

Hero’s eyes widened. She didn’t have handcuffs; she was no officer, but for Villain to say that, and with such a serious tone…he wouldn’t say something so disadvantageous to him if he didn’t mean it- if it weren’t necessary to gain Hero’s assistance.

“What will it mean,” Hero asked, “to be your wife?”

***

“Supervillain paid for our room.”

Our room? Hero blinked hard before glancing around the hotel lobby. Well, it was beautiful, but Hero hardly had the brain capacity to think about that. “You said our room,” she commented, lips thin and an eyebrow quirked.

“We’re husband and wife.”

“We’re pretending to be husband and wife,” Hero said in a hush-hush tone, hand squeezing Villain’s for umph.

Even as she said it quietly, Villain scolded her lightly, “Lower your voice if you’re going to say things like that.” Villain began his trek to the elevator, arm extending behind him as Hero followed, hand still in his. As much as she hated this act, she sure did like to hold his hand, it seemed. Maybe it was her anxiety which told her any hand was a good hand, even if it were stained in life after life of blood and tears.

“I don’t want to share a room with you,” Hero whispered, so low that Villain wouldn’t have heard her fully had he not turned his ear towards her as they walked down the hall of the seventh floor. “How will I know you won’t take advantage of me?”

Right. No handcuffs. “You think I’d try to kill you after I called you and begged for your help?”

“It could be a trap,” Hero said, tugging her hand out of Villain’s, stopping in the middle of the hall.

“Maybe. But imagine if it isn’t a trap. Imagine you back out now, and the world goes extinct. What regrets would you have then? Surely, they wouldn’t be as bad as committing yourself to a trap, causing only yourself harm instead of billions.”

His tone wasn’t condescending, but it held such magnificence that Hero couldn’t help but cast her eyes downward and nod in silent guilt. Guilt because why couldn’t she have thought of such a scenario on her own? Was she selfish for being so afraid of Villain?

“You’re right.” Hero nodded. “You’re right and I’m sorry.”

Villain took her hand in his own again, softly, with fragile care. “You don’t need to apologize. Your nerves aren’t without reason. I’ll admit I’m not the most trustworthy man. I get it. Remember you are not jeopardizing yourself for me. You’re doing it for the world.”

***

The bed was comfortable- even with Villain laying by Hero’s side. Actually, Villain being by her side might have been what made it so comfortable. The blanket which the hotel provided was too warm, but the body heat which Villain radiated was just comfortable enough that Hero struggled to keep her distrusting eyes open.

“I don’t believe this,” Hero whispered in the dark of the room, expecting Villain to be fast asleep. Apparently, he slept as little as she did.

Villain rolled flat against the mattress before turning on his other side to face Hero, earning a light gasp of surprise from her. “About Supervillain?” he asked- suggesting that Supervillain was still alive.

After regaining a state of sanity, Hero mumbled that, yes, Supervillain being alive seemed unreal, but that wasn’t what she meant. She meant that she was laying next to a man who she both despised and was deathly frightened of, and yet she was comfortable with it- comfortable with his heat. It shouldn’t have meant much; it was only science at play, but it still irked her. Of course, Hero didn’t say any of this.

“It isn’t so bad sharing a bed, is it?” Villain yawned and did a little stretch with his arms, groaning as the skin and muscles of his torso stretched. “You have your side. I have mine.”

“Not so bad,” she agreed.

There was still a danger to it, Hero acknowledged. She was still side-by-side with a villain, still frightened by the thought of Villain silently reaching over the moment he heard Hero’s breathing slowing, pushing a knife against her sleeping body, and shiv her through without a thought. It was possible, and it was likely, wasn’t it?

“Have you thought about what you’ll do tomorrow?” Villain asked.

“Me?” Hero swallowed. “I…no, I haven’t thought about it.”

“That’s unlike you.”

Hero turned her head over her shoulder, finding Villain’s moonlight glinting eyes. “Asking someone for help is unlike you. What made you do it?”

“I couldn’t do it alone. I told you-”

“That’s not the truth. Well, it is, but it’s not the full truth.” Hero paused. “When have you ever admitted that you aren’t enough to accomplish a goal? You sought me out for my intelligence, but what else? You don’t ask for help, Villain. It’s not who you are.”

Silence followed, giving hero enough time to gather the courage it took to roll over, to face Villain with her whole body like he did with her before yawning.

“I’m scared,” Villain said, matter-of-factly. “I’m scared that when it is all over, then history will forget me for all the terrible things I’ve done.”

Confused, Hero asked, “Wasn’t the reason you chose the dark side because your crimes would be so extravagantly memorable?” This conversation wasn’t aiding Hero’s underlying fear of lying in bed with Villain. Still, she wanted answers.

“I realized I was wrong. If I don’t do something good for once, I’ll be remembered as a monster, and you see, I want to be remembered as a legend.” Villain drew in a deep breath, turning his head slightly away from Hero before exhaling. “There’s a difference between monsters and legends, I realized. Honour is legendary; Fear is monstrous. Having said that, there’s no fear in honour, so what’s the point in all those criminal activities except mindlessness and naivety? It’s not as fun or rewarding as I thought it’d be.”

“You stay awake and think at night like I do, don’t you?”

Villain nodded. Hero nodded.

Hero’s hand slid across the sheets until her fingertips touched Villain’s. Holding his hand was comforting when she considered they would be meeting Supervillain tomorrow- that Villain’s face would be the only familiar one, the only one she could trust even though she hardly even trusted it at all.

Hearing what Villain said now, in the deepest stage of the night…maybe he was worth trusting.

Maybe there was a good reason she was holding his hand.

And maybe there was a good reason she enjoyed the warmth that rolled off her body.

Maybe there was a reason beyond anxiousness and fear that made Hero’s heart beat a little faster than usual.

“Do you think we could both be legends?” Hero asked, to which Villain responded, with a tight squeeze of Hero’s hand:

“I do.”

It wasn’t the only time he would utter those words. Next time, Hero would be wearing a white gown, and Villain, a tux.

[willwriteforhugs]

the most beautiful girl i’ve ever known- jung hoseok

boyfriend! hobi x chubby! reader- one shot !

word count: 2.3k

genre: angst

synopsis: you’ve always struggled with confidence- it’s simply part of who you are. always the chubby student in the class, always the one wearing pants instead of a mini skirt. as an adult, you tried to make peace with it, but after a horrible run in with your coworker, you feel like you just can’t do it anymore- at least, until your boyfriend takes things into his own hands. hoseok’s determined to get you to realize your own beauty, and he’ll do anything for that to happen.

warnings: body-shaming, work harassment, swearing, minor arguing

a/n: wow, first bts fic, here we go...

this fic was requested by a sweet anon- and if they’re reading this, i hope i did the request justice! i think i did well, though i tried to treat the topic with love and respect.

i hope everyone enjoys <333

- - - 

your apartment building’s elevator makes a polite dinging noise as the doors slide smoothly shut- and for the second time since they opened, you thank god the small space is empty. 

elevators are generally silent places, but now the box is filled with the sound of your rushed, uneven breathing. you rotate so your back is pressed into the corner of the moving elevator, pressing a hand to your face. hot, silent tears stream down your cheeks. your thoughts are a jumbled mess: 

god, how embarrassing. crying in a public elevator. anyone could walk in right now. 

you try to take a stabilizing breath- but you quickly realize the attempt was in vain. your inhale causes you to hiccup and choke, making you cry even harder. you bury your face in your hands, wondering what you’d done to deserve this. 

‘why this body? why?’ you think to yourself. it was a thought that came all too quickly, and one you were familiar with.

you don’t think you were ugly, not necessarily- but you certainly don’t think you were desirable, either. being overweight had always had that effect- not complete hopelessness, but a serious lack of overall confidence. and it’s not like you can help it- you try your best to stay healthy, but genetics do what genetics do. so you are overweight. some days, that fact it didn’t bug you- but today was not one of those days.

in the moment, you feel yourself reach up down and clutch at your own arms, squeezing the soft flesh. you groan quietly, unwillingly reliving what had caused this spiral in the first place.

one hour ago:

you had begun the day in a positive mood, really- but that had all gone to shit once the work day began. 

you had a new coworker- mr. lee. he wasn’t your superior, but he liked to be called by his surname, apparently. he’d been hired on a whim two weeks ago, when the company lost the long time employee that previously held mr. lee’s position. 

the man, though being probably a decade your senior, had a childlike way of going about the work day. he laughed at things that weren’t funny, and tried to make conversation even when you had your earbuds in.

you hated him, naturally. 

he was just too much. over-caffeinated, controlling, and immature- basically everything you despised in a peer.

however- or up until today, at least- you’d been able to tolerate him. but while you were on lunch break, mr. lee drew the last straw with you.

he’d walked into the breakroom, already making too much noise. he was humming, and tapping his foot, and running the microwave, all at the same time. and, unfortunately, you were the only other person in the room- so he made a beeline straight for you. 

“afternoon, peach!” he’d said. you hated the nickname, and had no idea of its origins.

“hi,” you grumbled, staring down at your food.

“i didn’t see you come in this morning.”

you made a noncommittal noise. “got here early.”

“right.” the man replied. 

a beat passed, and the two of you settled into a stiff silence, only disrupted by the sound of your eating.

and finally, the vulture had a point of interest.

“you really gonna eat all that?” he’d said, looking pointedly down at your meal.

you’d frowned at the comment, and dodged the question. “why do you ask?” you’d replied.

“well, you know. didn’t think a girl like you would need all of that, right?”

you set your fork down, trying to keep your breathing even. before you had been able to come up with an answer, though, he’d continued:

“i mean, you should be trying to lose weight.” he leaned into the word ‘lose’, as if speaking to a child. 

you remember your anger had begun to dissipate, quickly replaced by offence and sadness. you’d stood up quickly, grabbing at your things so you could leave. 

mr. lee had frowned at your reaction. “come on now,” he’d said. “there’s no need to feel upset, i’m only being honest with you. you don’t want me to lie, do you? you’re fat, you may as well know.”

you spun on him. “and what’s so wrong with being fat?”

before he could supply you with an answer (which he surely thought he had) you’d stormed out of the room and requested the afternoon off.

and now here you are. 

you stumble a bit on your way out of the elevator, cursing as you nearly drop your bag. when you finally make it to your door, it takes three tries to get the code correct.

you sigh heavily as the door to your apartment swings open. to your surprise, you find the lights still on, and it takes you a moment to realize why. 

it’s friday.

hoseok had the day off. 

shit.

you kick off your shoes and shut the door quickly, abandoning any efforts to be quiet. your own sniffles seem loud as you scramble to shut yourself in the hallway bathroom. you don’t want him to see you like this- crying, puffy, and chubby as usual.

right as you slam the bathroom door shut, you hear his voice.

“y/n?”

you grimace, clamping a hand over your mouth to stifle the sounds of your crying. 

“y/n-ah, is that you?”

you hear your boyfriend pad into the hallway, and his steps falter when he discovers your belongings strewn about by the front door. there’s a pause, then the footsteps continue to the bathroom door- where, on the other side, you’re slumped against the cabinets. 

hoseok knocks gently. “y/n? love, are you alright? i thought you worked until five today...” 

when you don’t answer, he continues. “are you sick?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, and a small sob tears its way out of your mouth.

you can tell your boyfriend heard it, because his voice becomes even more frantic. “y/n?” he says, leaning against the door.

oh, hoseok. sweet, innocent hoseok. he was always so kind to you. you remember the day when he first asked you out- you’d been convinced it was a prank at first, but when you realized he was being genuine, you’d fallen for him instantly. now, you know that genuine was all hobi ever was.

he’d never called you fat. it had crossed your mind, of course- whether or not your size bugged him, or if he had to defend you to his friends- but whenever you’d been brave enough to ask about it, hoseok would always respond with: “of course not, my love, you’re beautiful.”

you’d never pushed it, though now you realize you always wanted to. 

now you remove your hand from your mouth, taking a shaky breath. your voice trembles as you finally respond: ‘”i’m okay, i’m- i’m not sick or anything.”

you hear your boyfriend’s body slide down the length of the door, ultimately settling on the ground in front of it. you lean forward so your head is pressed against the wood- the two of you are sitting face to face, with only the closed door keeping you apart.

“y/n-ah, talk to me.” hoseok says. “please.”

your shoulders shake as another wave of tears crashes over you. “i’m sorry,” you manage. “i’m just- i’m not feeling very good right now.”

you can tell hobi’s face is pressed into the door from how close his voice sounds. his words are tinged with distress. “what happened?”

you sigh, overwhelmed with shame and anger. you don’t want to tell him- but of course, you know you have to anyways. if for anything, just to wipe the sad curiosity out of his voice.

“you remember- do you remember how i have that awful new coworker?” you croak.

there was a pause, then: “the older one?” 

“yeah. he’s annoying. and rude.” 

“okay, yeah. i remember.” hoseok says quietly, urging you to continue.

you inhale slowly. “he just- he said some things to me today, and i-”

hobi interrupts you suddenly, his tone having gone sharp. “what kind of things?”

you pause. “he said... things about my body. he said i needed to lose weight.”

hoseok says nothing, which is always worrisome. you can practically feel his emotions through the solid wooden door- a chaotic mix of distress, concern, and red-hot fury.

after a moment, your boyfriend speaks up. “y/n-ah.”

you hum dully in response.

“can you please open the door?”

you frown, but decide not to fight it. you know he’s only trying to help. so you reach up and scoot back a few feet so that the door can open inwards. hoseok, who had been so faithfully slumped on the other side, shuffles inside the small bathroom, still on his knees.

when he meets your eyes, you can see his heartbreak, and he can see yours. without any hesitation, he reaches forward and takes your face in his hands, softly caressing your tear-streaked cheeks.

you lean into his touch, allowing your body to fall forward into his. he slips an arm around your abdomen in support. 

a few minutes pass without speaking, the air filled only with the sounds of hobi’s hand running over your back, and your laboured breathing.

finally, your counterpart speaks up. “y/n- is that all he said? the one thing?”

he places his hand on your jaw to lift your face away from his chest, wanting to meet your eyes.

you sigh, pulling away. “no, he- he told me that i should eat less, and that-” your breath catches. “well, he said i was fat.”

hoseok’s jaw clenches, and you shift in his arms. “what?” you whisper.

his eyes are aflame when he responds. “why would he say those things to you? i just- why did he think he’d have any right?”

you look away. “i don’t know. male workplace entitlement.”

hobi gives a wry chuckle. “that’s no excuse.”

“i know.”

“we’ll report him, alright? i will, if you won’t. that’s no way to be speaking to coworkers.”

you nod vaguely as hobi runs his hands up and down your arms. trapped underneath you, your right foot begin to fall asleep. 

“baby?” your boyfriend asks after a minute.

“do you think he’s right?” you burst, eyes burning. “do you think i need to lose weight?”

hoseok’s face falls, and he grasps at your wrists. “y/n,” he starts.

“no,” you interrupt. “really, hoseok. i- i’m not enough for you, am i? i don’t know why you stay with me. you’re way out of my league.”

“y/n!” hobi snaps. his tone is suddenly sharp.

you shut your mouth, already regretting your words.

“my love.” hoseok whispers, his voice breaking. “how could you say that?”

you choke on a dry sob, unable to answer.

your boyfriend’s eyes search your face, desperate for an answer that isn’t there. “how could you ever think that you aren’t good enough? and- what, just because you aren’t skinny?”

you look down at the floor as he continues, blinking rapidly. the tears really won’t stop. 

“that’s a silly way to think.” hoseok says quietly. “and i know that for a fact, y/n. because you are the most beautiful girl i’ve ever known. and you always will be, no matter how big you are. you could be four sizes smaller, or four sizes larger, and i would love you all the same.”

you burrow your face further into his chest. “you mean it?” your voice comes out in a whimper.

“absolutely.” he says, not hesitating. “there is no version of events where you aren’t good enough for me. you’re too good for me, honestly. sometimes i think you deserve better.”

you pull away now, frowning. “that’s not true.”

“why not?”

“well,” you falter. “because i love you. and i chose you. i chose you because i love you, and i don’t want anybody else.”

above you, hoseok smiles gently, waiting for you to hear your own words.

the realization hits, and you understand suddenly. he wanted you to say that, to hear it from yourself.

“oh,” you whisper.

“now do you get it?”

you sniffle, grateful that your tears have mostly subsided. “yeah,” you mumble. “i get it.”

“good.” hobi pauses. “i love you, y/n. and it doesn’t matter what anyone else says about you, because you’re gorgeous, and you’re important. and you will never be defined by your body. i’ll call your office and report that awful guy, alright?”

you nod silently.

“okay.” he says, nudging your arm. “now how about you get cleaned up? since you’re home early we can spend the whole evening together if you’d like.”

you perk up at that. “oh- yes, i want to.”

hoseok smiles. “i thought so. here-” he rises to his feet, extending a hand to help you. you take it, placing your palm in his. he lifts you to standing, then smiles again.

“don’t worry, my love. i’ll fix your mood right up. i even have some sample tracks i could show you!”

you smile gently. “that sounds nice.”

as he turns to leave, you clear your throat. “hoseok.”

he turns quickly, eyebrows raised. “hmm?”

you gesture for him to come closer, and as soon as he’s in arm’s reach, you lean over and kiss him.

it’s a gentle kiss, really. a kiss that says i love you, and a kiss that says thank you, for everything.

hoseok hums into your mouth, hands quickly finding your waist. you lean into him, body and mind buzzing. kissing hoseok is your favorite, because each time is just a little different. 

your hands find his hair, and you smile against his mouth. you can feel him smile back.

he kisses you for just a moment longer, then pulls away. 

he rests his forehead on yours, sighing lightly.

and you know that you have never felt more loved, more beautiful, more safe, then you do in that moment, with him. 

[rocorambles]

Shiny New Toy

Pairing: Matsukawa x Reader 

Genre/Warnings: Military Officer Matsukawa x Prisoner of War Reader AU, Yandere, Non-Con/Rape, Bondage, Sex Toys, Degradation, Overstimulation, Objectification, Humiliation, Body Writing, Mentioned/Implied  Non-Con Branding, Knife Marking, Tattooing

Summary: Most people would consider having a white Christmas a stroke of good luck, but you’re about to find out just how untrue that is. 

Author’s Note: This fic is for the Lovesick Server’s December collab and the theme is Stormy Nights~ Be sure to check out the amazing work by other members here.

When most people dream of a white Christmas, they think about soft fluffy snow you can easily shape into snowmen, they think about fluttering snowflakes they can gaze at as they sit inside a cozy home surrounded by their family. 

Not you. 

When you dream of a white Christmas, you pray for a thunderous snowstorm, you pray for harsh winds, frigid temperatures, you pray for anything severe enough to serve as a distraction, to keep the demons and monsters at bay. 

And it takes every ounce of self-control not to accidentally betray how relieved and thankful you are as your guards for the day are sloppy enough to leave you uncuffed, hastily throwing down enough food to last you a few days in their rush to return to the safety and warmth of their barracks, unwilling to venture out more than necessary to feed you multiple times a day during the blizzard outside. 

They still have enough sense to lock the cell door behind them as they scurry back to the merry celebrations, too afraid to deal with the wrath of their superior officers. And you can’t blame them, not when Oikawa’s sadistic streak and Iwaizumi’s untempered rage are infamous throughout the nations, not when you’ve seen firsthand just how cruel the Seijoh Four can be. 

Painful memories of fire, screams, and blood flood your mind and you grit your teeth as you push them aside. There would be time for grief and mourning later. But for now, you need to escape first.

You examine the lock in front of you, the one thing separating you from freedom. It’s not a bad piece of work. Sturdy, strong, and reliable. But it’s nowhere near the craftsmanship and skill you’re used to. After all, when you come from Date Tech, the nation famous for its Iron Walls, its ironwork, its ability to manipulate all types of metal to do or be whatever the heart desires, nothing compares. And it’s laughably easy to make said lock useless as you quietly creep outside for the first time in months. 

It’s quiet. Not a soul is in sight and you slow your breathing and thoughts down as you concentrate. What’s the next step? Which direction should you go? What’s the overall plan?

For once you’re thankful for how the guards they’ve been sending could care less about your presence, treating you nothing more than an object as they blatantly ignore you and carry on conversation as if you’re not there. You know that despite the fact that most of Miyagi has been conquered, three nations still remain in an endless war against each other.

Karasuno. Shiratorizawa. Aoba Johsai. 

It’s just your luck that you’d ended up a prisoner of war by the worst of the three, humiliated and kept alive as a trophy and symbol of what they had accomplished. At least if Date Tech had been conquered by Shiratorizawa you’d be dead within seconds once Ushijima had deemed you unworthy and far too weak to live up the to high standards of his warriors. 

But Karasuno...you don’t know much about the crow nation, a nation that had kept a low profile for as long as you could remember, only to recently rear its head and prove that they’ve kept up with the best of the best despite their long isolation. But you do remember the kind faces of their high ranking officers when they had gotten into a conflict with Date Tech long ago, how surprisingly amicable the two sides were as Date Tech admitted defeat, preparing for the worst, only to be surprised as Karasuno had peacefully left after having your nation promise an alliance with them, leaving your home relatively in one piece, letting your authorities remain in power, allowing your people to live normally.

It’s decided then. The game plan is to escape to Karasuno and hope that Daichi Sawamura is as just and kind as you remember. 

Determined, you carefully listen and check your surroundings, grateful for the added coverage the snowstorm provides, relieved when you hear the distant drunken shouts and celebrations as the soldiers celebrate the joyous holiday, tucked away in the mess hall quite a distance from you. And you brace yourself as the wind howls around you, as the icy snow stings your bare feet and legs, soaking through your tattered clothing. But like hell you’re going to let something as silly as frostbite stop you and you darkly think that dying from hypothermia would be a preferable way to leave this world than by the hands of a Seijoh officer. 

Escape is tantalizingly close and you forget about the way your body feels numb from the bitter cold, forget about how your teeth chatter and your body shivers when you see the nearing enclosure, so focused on the exit that you don’t notice the solitary tall figure casually leaning against a wall nearby, curiously watching your stumbling weary body make its way towards the opening, amusement in his eyes when you pass him, completely unaware of his presence as your eyes sparkle from seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. 

Matsukawa doesn’t care much for Christmas. Well to be fair, he doesn’t care much about holidays or celebrating in general, finding the rowdy atmosphere headache inducing, the raucous volume irritating, the crowds of people bothersome. But Oikawa and Hanamaki love their social events and it boosts squad morale, so needless to say of course there is an obnoxious holiday party raging on, with Iwaizumi playing babysitter. And Matsukawa had slipped out as soon as he could, finding strange comfort in the tumultuous weather outside, unfazed by the way snow slashed across his face as he walked and walked until only the sounds of wind and the night accompanied him. 

So imagine his surprise when their adorable little prisoner shows up in the midst of the blizzard like a ghostly apparition, struggling through the elements in a desperate attempt to escape. Honestly he doesn’t know why you’ve been kept in the cell for so long and he supposes you have Iwaizumi to thank for Oikawa not sinking his teeth and claws into you already, the green eyed general having a softer heart than most would assume knowing his reputation. But your luck has run out and not even Iwaizumi can save you from punishment and Matsukawa’s penchant for ruining pretty things. 

Suddenly Christmas doesn’t seem so bothersome after all as Matsukawa’s long legs swiftly carry him to you, his arm quickly wrapping around your neck from behind and squeezing until your nutrient deprived and half frozen body collapses in his arms. 

You groan when you come back to your senses, sinking into the soft surface you’re laying on. 

Wait. Soft surface?

Your eyes shoot open and your arms instinctively move to help you sit up, only for you to falter as something keeps your arms bound behind your back and you flail and struggle to move your tied up body as you gauge your surroundings, feeling nauseous when you recognize the turquoise and white uniform jacket hung up by the door, staring in disbelief and humiliation when you finally look down at yourself, the glowing Christmas lights adorning and highlighting your body as they weave around your breasts and between your legs. And you can only assume that’s what you feel wrapped around your arms, keeping them immobile behind your back as your naked body fights against its restraints on the bed you’ve been placed on. 

 But you scream, all thoughts of escape zapped out of you when two devices come to life inside of you and you sob in shame and panic as both your lower holes are assaulted by the vibrators inside of them, the tangle of lights looped between your legs keeping the toys firmly shoved inside of you despite the way you try to push them out of you. 

Matsukawa doesn’t understand the appeal of Christmas lights or decorations nor does he understand Oikawa’s fascination of sex toys and overwhelming his play things with plastic, rubber, and metal, preferring the surge of pride that courses through him when he wrecks his sluts with his body alone. But as he watches you writhe in front of him, your eyes glistening with hopeless tears, your nipples perky and erect, your moans and whimpers filling the room as he sits back and relaxes, his large hand slowly palming his hardening cock that he untucks out of his trousers, he admits that maybe he had been too quick to judge, grateful he hadn’t immediately dumped the box of gag gifts his brunette captain had gifted him bright and early this Christmas morning. 

“I know you don’t like toys, Mattsun. But you should test these out on the new batch of prisoners we get from the next raid!”

You aren’t a new prisoner, but he’s sure Oikawa wouldn’t mind that he was using them on you. If anything, the brunette would probably be jealous that he’d claimed you first. 

Time ceases to exist as Matsukawa watches you, fingers idly tapping away on buttons and a smirk spreading across his face at how receptive you are to the setting changes, how little he has to do to have your body contorting and your voice wantonly wailing as orgasm after orgasm is ripped from you. But he grows tired of watching from afar after he forces you to break apart countless times and he draws near, stroking his now fully erect cock as he mockingly whistles at how you’ve soaked the bed sheets near your cunt and drenched the lights shoved against your folds, laughing at how your back arches and your eyes roll back when he roughly pinches and twists your nipples. 

It’s like you were made to be played with. And suddenly Matsukawa can’t get his hands on his new toy fast enough, unwinding the soaked string of lights from your lower half and bending your legs before retying the lower strands of lights so that they bind your calves to your thighs, enjoying the view as the vibrator in your pussy easily slips out from your loosened sopping wet hole while he teasingly pulls and shoves back in the large vibrating plug he keeps nestled inside of your ass. 

You really are just like a sex toy or a fuck doll, other than that scowl on your face and the raging hate and disgust in your eyes. But the fierce look only stirs deeper lust and anticipation in the officer as he eagerly awaits the moment you completely break because of him, large hands easily hauling your bound body by the waist and forcing you to straddle his lap as he reclines against his headboard, smiling at how rage turns to a gorgeous look of fear when you feel the tip of his cock brush against your glistening entrance. 

It really is admirable how you hopelessly fight against him, against gravity as his hands guide you down and down, despair, pain, and maybe something on the border of pleasure overtaking you as you sink on an enemy’s shaft seemingly forever, the girth alone already stretching you far more than the vibrator had. But it’s the length that tears you apart and Matsukawa is painstakingly meticulous about making sure you swallow him at an agonizingly slow pace, making sure you have no choice but to feel every bit of him that enters you, that drags against your walls, further and further until you swear he’s in your cervix, in your stomach. 

You hate how sensitive his earlier torment has made you, how your pleasure addicted body is already chasing after another orgasm, your pussy fluttering in excitement around the new object filling it, your mouth drooling and unable to close as your mind goes blank from the sensation of being double stuffed again. And you sob in relief when you finally bottom out before you can humiliate yourself by cumming yet again, tensing as you wait for your captor to ruthlessly fuck you right away. 

But nothing happens and you stare in astonishment as Matsukawa merely reaches over to his nightstand to pick up a book, flipping through pages as you sit in his lap. 

“Be a good cock warmer and just stay still and look pretty, okay?” 

Humiliation courses through you at his words, but you obey. Or at least you try your best to. But he’s set you up for failure as the hand not holding his reading material finds its way between your legs, calloused fingertips gently and slowly rubbing against your clit in a way that has your body heating up, has your hips unconsciously grinding as they chase the building inferno inside of you until you’re desperately humping him like a bitch in heat in search of relief. And Matsukawa irritatedly sighs. 

“Aren’t fuck dolls supposed to just stay still and be quiet? If you want to cum that badly and distract me, at least entertain me.” 

You don’t even have the presence of mind to pay him any attention as you keep on bouncing as much as you can with your limited movement, completely ignorant of how he tosses his book to the side and rummages through the opened gift box besides him, a pleased hum escaping him when he pulls out two jingling objects. 

But you do notice the piercing pain from both your nipples as incredible pressure is applied to them and you scream as Matsukawa adjusts the nipple clamps, whimpering when he smacks your breasts and the bells attached to the devices loudly ring. Satisfied with your new decorations, once again he wraps his large hands around your waist and you wail as you’re easily lifted and slammed back down, face burning with shame and embarrassment when you realize you’re being fucked to the rhythm of Jingle Bells, the bells lewdly swinging from your sensitive buds only emphasizing your pathetic position with every shrill chime. 

You shouldn’t be enjoying this. You shouldn’t be moaning like a whore. You shouldn’t be on the verge of yet another mind blowing orgasm. And you clench your eyes shut as you try to remember your home, remember your family, remember your friends, anything to distract you from the present. But Matsukawa has other plans for you and pleasure and pain strike you down like a bolt of lightning when he rips the clamps off of you and you let out an animalistic sound of ecstasy as you experience your most intense orgasm yet, one that has you twitching and mindless, slumping against the broad body in front of you in post-coital bliss and exhaustion.  

But you weakly cry out when large hands hold you still as strong hips thrust up hard into you. 

“Your performance was so good that now I’m in the mood.” 

All your pride goes down the drain as you beg and plead for him to let you rest, to stop, making a mess of his shirt and neck as your tears and snot smear across skin and fabric as you exhaustedly bury your face in the crook of his shoulder, crying even harder when fingers trace slow patterns on one ass cheek before slapping you harshly to shut up your whining. 

“A toy’s job is to make its owner feel good. Plus, I’m curious just how durable you are. Clearly if you’re conscious enough to annoy me with all your sniveling, then you’re in good enough shape for me to use some more.” 

You can only brokenly cry as he rails you from below, your torso still propped against him, face still buried in his shoulder, as he manhandles your body, forcefully slamming you down with every thrust, making sure you’re completely filled and unable to escape the delirious fullness and stimulation. And you can’t even breathe, unable to think of anything except for the aching overwhelming feeling bubbling inside of you, threatening to consume you as you’re brought to new highs over and over again.

But your weakened body can only take so much and your squeals trail off into silence, darkness encroaching on your consciousness as your body shuts down from overexertion. It’s too much and you gladly and wearily welcome slumber, can practically taste it on your tongue as a part of you shatters deep inside when you vaguely register the hot thick spurts filling your insides as Matsukawa slams balls deep inside of you one final time. 

Your heavy eyelids flutter shut and you can feel your breathing begin to even out, but panic forces you to stay awake and alert when a low teasing voice murmurs into your ear. 

“You lasted longer than I thought, but I guess you’re officially out of batteries now. Don’t worry. I’ll charge you right back up.”

You don’t know what he has planned for you, but it can’t be anything good and despite how fatigued you are, you thrash and wiggle, doing everything you can to avoid the inevitable despite your still bound position. But it’s useless and you feel so small, so vulnerable as you’re shoved face down in the corner of his room, twisting just enough to see Matsukawa holding the vibrator that had been inside of you earlier and plugging it to an outlet in the wall. And your heart plummets when he gives you a lazy grin as he abruptly shoves the toy inside of you once more. 

“Can’t have it running out of batteries while it keeps you loose and wet for me.”

You kick and scream as he adjusts the lights wrapped around your legs once again, only pausing as he rains down hard and heavy hits to your ass, and if you felt vulnerable before, you feel absolutely pathetic now with a strand of lights keeping both the vibrator and plug firmly inside of you once again and your binds adjusted until you’re in a hog-tie position. But you don’t have time to dwell too much on it, not when both vibrator and plug are suddenly set at their highest settings and you shriek, tears streaming down your face from the onslaught of sensations in your already spent body. 

And you can only feel, feel, and feel, brain dead and numb to anything else happening around you. Even when Matsukawa crouches in front of you, you just dumbly stare at him as drool trickles from your mouth and lewd moans spill from your lips. 

But even in your depraved state, the last dregs of your pride shout at you to do something, anything, as the officer holds a pair of socks and black briefs in front of your face. 

“As beautiful as you sound, I can’t have the entire unit complaining about how loud my little doll is. And toys don’t need to talk or see anyway, so I’m going to wrap you back up until I’m ready to use you again, okay?”

It’s a rhetorical question and before you can even think of retorting, the socks are brutally shoved into your mouth and you gag and choke as long fingers cruelly push and push, practically deep-throating you with the thick fabric, more hot tears cascading down your face as he removes his now saliva coated digits and wipes them clean on your face. 

But as the elastic band of his briefs are pulled over your head and snapped into place right beneath your eyes, rendering your eyesight useless, making the buzzing torment in your lower regions even more prominent, you go completely limp save for the uncontrollable tremors of pleasure, any fight you had in you shattered into a million pieces as you fully register what has happened and what you have been reduced to. 

And Matsukawa takes a moment to appreciate how broken you are already, barely looking human with the glow of the Christmas lights surrounding you and your facial features hidden for the most part by his briefs, looking every bit like a depraved whore, like human furniture, like a lewd object to be used by anyone, anytime. 

But Matsukawa has never been good at sharing his belongings and he plucks a permanent marker from his desk, scribbling dark unmistakable lines across both your ass cheeks, smirking down at his new mark of ownership. 

Issei’s Toy

The words look good on you. His name looks good on you. 

Maybe if you survive his treatment long enough, he’d get it permanently tattooed into your skin. Maybe he’d carve it into your skin. Maybe he’d burn it into your skin…

The possibilities are endless, but for now, he has an appearance to make, sighing tiredly at the responsibilities he has as a senior officer. Curse Oikawa and his insistence that all of the Seijoh Four had to at least show face at the beginning and end of the holiday party. And he rolls his eyes as he straightens out his uniform and throws on his jacket. 

But before he departs, he spares you one more glance, mood instantly lighting up when he sees your wrecked pitiful form laying on his ground like a forgotten toy. 

At least something good came out of this dreadful day, he thinks, as he quietly hums Jingle Bells all the way down to the mess hall. 

[you-did-well-moon]

Werewolf!Yunho meeting his mate

Type: Werewolf au, angst, fluff

Pairing: Werewolf!Yunho x HumanFemale!reader

Word count:  2,994

A/n: I know this took a long time, trust me, it felt like a long time for me too. With how I view Yunho, I expected this to be happier than it is. I was having a hard time while writing this, and it reflected on the story. Anyways please enjoy and stay safe!

TW: toxic relationship, financial struggle, deadlines, stressed reader, emotional and verbal pain, toxic masculinity, if I missed anything please tell me.

You sat at the foot of your bed, still not made, staring at the mirror resting against your dull colored wall with lifeless blank eyes. Your posture slouched as you finished tying the laces of your running shoes huffing and letting your arms flop to the ground. Looking at the mirror, you tried smiling, but it was meak and disappeared as soon as it appeared. 

You hadn’t smiled a real smile in so long, you forgot what it felt like. To smile. To be happy. The forgotten emotion was one you took for granted when it was easy to to bask in the warmth of it. Now it's just cold. Cold and empty. 

You looked away from the mirror with a tight feeling coiling in the base of your chest not being able to bear looking at the stranger staring back at you any longer. Your gaze fell to the laptop, abandoned, due to frustration on your desk in the forgotten corner of the room. The thought of unfinished drafts and incomplete sentences shook violently in your mind. Disappointment in yourself pooling in your gut remembering your editor’s words. 

“If you can’t give us at least a first draft by the end of the month, we’ll have to unfortunately let you and your novel go.”

How pathetic was it that you couldn’t even come up with a simple sentence. A description, dialogue, a metaphor. Nothing. Anytime you sat yourself in front of the desk, your mind went blank. The cursor blinking at the top of the page mocked you with the possibility of millions of words. Not one ever made its way onto the page.  

The end of the month was in two weeks. 

You felt tears of hopelessness stinging the corner of your eyes, and you abruptly stood up grabbing your wireless earbuds, phone, and bag. Making your way into the kitchen you grabbed the water in the fridge and placed it inside your back, nothing but a numb feeling alienating you from reality and its broken expectations. You heard the front door of your little apartment open and slam close shaking the thin walls of the building. 

Your heart lurched as you winced immediately feeling like you were walking on eggshells. You were usually quick enough to leave before he got home from work, but you had been a tad bit late this one time. You gripped the strap of your bag tightly hoping for it to ground you through whatever vile words came from the one person you should have been able to trust with your ugliest feelings. 

Trying to walk past your boyfriend, eyes trained on the chipped wood of the front door did no good when he kissed his teeth and huffed as soon as he caught sight of you.

“You’re never home when I get home from work, and the one time you are here, you run away not even saying hi to me? Not even a “hey honey how was work today” or maybe a “hi love what would you like for dinner?” and never a “you’ve worked hard would you like a massage?” It's the same shit every day. You treat me like nothing when I'm the reason you even have a roof over your head woman.”

You kept your mouth the whole time he rambled on trying to ignore the clear stench of beer being able to reach you even with all the distance separating you, and the feeling of disgust mixed with desperation pooling at the bottom of your gut at yourself for not speaking up for yourself. Opening your mouth instead of letting your voice be taken from you. A long time ago, you would always say you would rather die than be without your voice. In a sense, you had died a long time ago. 

Around three months after you had started dating. That had been two years ago. 

Your English degree really did you no good. Not having enough time to be an intern in college really screwed you over when no job would take a bright eyed girl with the same passion in her heart for writing as a Karen’s passion for business that wasn’t hers, but with no experience. Even if the apartment was under your name, you’d probably be kicked out in weeks time.

You hated all of it. Everything that made up both the small and big parts of your life, you hated it. You hated his greasy hair and beady eyes, the nasty rough stubble covering the lower part of his face as a result of his laziness. You hated the hesitation in leaving him because of the fear of the stack of bills piling up next to the fridge. You hated the editors who couldn’t find it in some part of their greedy selves to extend your deadline. You hated the empty drafts sitting in your laptop collecting what could only be dead dreams and despair. You hated the cold emptiness that was always present in the confines of your chest. 

You recoiled at the way he said “woman” the same way someone would talk about a bug. Small and insignificant. Patronizing and confident in the worst way. You set your mouth in a tight line not even being able to look at him. Shifting your feet, you crossed your arms and looked up to the sky as if calling out to some unknown being to get you out of this pathetic corner you were trapped in. You cursed under your breath looking at the dying flowers on the coffee table with distaste as they wilted towards you mocking you. 

“What was that?” His voice got rougher with the menacing edge of fanned masculinity and control. Something that could put you in a dangerous place in a very fast amount of time. You looked at him with dull eyes poking your cheek with your tongue as a cold feeling settled in your gut. 

Your hands fell limply to your side and you chuckled humorlessly. 

“Fuck you”.

Those two words were enough to set him off as you slowly blinked and looked at the ground feeling your heart falter when he abruptly got up. You tried to stand your ground, but the surge of confidence was quickly withering away with fear taking its place. 

Ethan was bigger than you. Even if he wasn’t that much taller than you, there was a noticeable difference in his frame and yours. Weirdly enough, you didn’t regret your curse at him. The words still burned brilliantly on the tip of your tongue. 

It was bittersweet of course. His nose flared, and his eyes bulged as he took large strides over to you knocking the coffee table over on his path to you.

“What did you say to me you-” his words were said through gritted teeth, brash and loud in the silent apartment.

 Maybe he was bigger and stronger than you, but you were faster.

You inhaled sharply reacting fast as your hand reached behind you, turning the knob and slipping around it slamming the door close. Your bag bumped against your back while you bolted to the door with the word “stairs” painted in big bold letters across it. You were already at the door when you heard your apartment door open and Ethan angrily called your name. Threatening to break your laptop if you didn’t go back right this instant. 

You couldn’t help but snicker at the weak attempt. It’s not like there were much but empty pages anyways. 

A heavy feeling soon settled on your chest as you went down the stairs. Your apartment was on the 4th floor, and the stairs weren’t the most taken care of, but it’s not like you had much of a choice anyways. It seemed these days you were always wanting to run away from something. 

Your heart felt a little lighter when the warm rays of sun met your skin and the fresh air outside flooded your senses. Your walk to the park went as usual. Cars racing to get where they needed to, people chattered about everything and nothing, and your thoughts wandered to a world far away from this one. 

A world that wasn’t as dark as this one. At the same time your mind became your executioner, it became your safe place. The sick contrast making a nasty feeling flood your chest.

You arrived at the park with a small smile. The normalcy of the day bringing a little comfort to your still racing heart. Kids ran around, laughter ringing in the air around them as their parents watched on benches gossiping among themselves. People raced fast either by foot, bicycle, or skateboard, a visible sheen on their necks. You looked for the kind old man who always looked after your bag while you ran. 

He owned a music store a few blocks away, and he always sat on the bench closest to the pond with his cute corgi and habitually feeding the ducks peas and lettuce leaves when finished  with a certain chapter of his book. You walked up to him with a small smile as he looked up and took the sight of you in with fatherly worry.  

“You look a little pale kid, everything alright?” 

You did your best to liven up and gave your best customer service smile which the older man immediately saw through.

“Of course Mr.Jung. Why wouldn’t it be? I’m just a little tired from the editors. They’re on my back more than usual”, you laughed nervously as he hummed in understanding.

“I hope that boy of yours isn’t giving you any problems. Hey kid, have you ever heard of the term “break up?” he looked so serious you had to compose your shocked face. 

You waved your hands rapidly “I promise Mr.Jung everything is fine there is...I...oh my” you took a shaky breath as he simply shrugged his shoulders and pet his smaller companion who was having a very serious stare down with a duck. 

You wiped your sweaty palms on your yoga pants while you looked around at the tacky named paths trying to decide which one to run today. 

“The Pupper Runner path looks particularly nice today,” he suggested. You looked at the path pursing your lips in thought. The path wasn’t one you ran frequently. Since it was one of the wider and flatter paths, there were more people such as families or people walking their dogs. You also didn’t like having run-ins with the cyclists who were grouchier around this time of day for some odd reason.

After contemplating it, you shrugged and decided why not. Getting run over by a ticking time bomb on wheels wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen today. With a small smile sent in Mr.Jungs way, you checked your shoe laces before starting out with a light jog making your way down the specific path.

There was nothing really different about today’s run than others. Just having to dodge the wheel demons and kids happily running ahead of their worried mothers. You were grateful for the distraction. It kept you from straying too far into your head. It was just you running. Running like you always did these days, your shoes slapping on the concrete path and Got7 blaring in your ears. 

The heat of the sun shone on your skin, but oddly you still felt cold. It was always cold these days. A light breeze fresh to your burning skin as desperate eyes caught yours, and you were once again bought out of your stupor. 

A small boy was kneeled down fingers clutching his untied shoelaces not far from his dad who was trying to calm a crying baby. You didn’t really have a strong adoration for kids, but his panicked pinched face compelled you to come to a slow stop in front of him. Your chest heaved as you bent down to his level sitting on your heels and wrapped your arms around your legs.

“Hey bud, you need some help there?”

The kid made a distraught sound as he nodded his face shaking his hair out of his eyes. He looked dumb founded as he stared at his shoe laces in search of answers they would never give.

“Mama said to make a bunny, but this looks more like my aunt Carol’s dog” he sadly told you.

You snorted reaching out gently to tie his laces with a double knot.

With a grin you looked up at him ruffling his hair and giving him a thumbs up which he happily returned with a toothy smile.

“It’s alright kid, you’ll eventually get it. Just keep trying yeah? Don’t settle or you might catch yourself tripping next time you go on a walk. You’ll get hurt. Wouldn’t want that would we”, you said, lips still stretched kindly upwards, but something in your words struck stingingly deep in your chest. 

As the kid nodded happily with a carefree laugh you were about to get up when you heard the air being split and a strained voice yelling “watch out!!”. 

You looked up, panicked, only to see a frisbee racing right in your direction with alarming speed. With the goal of protecting the small child, you quickly turned your body. Your shoes making a rough sound against the concrete as a startled light cry left the younger boy’s mouth.

With your hands ready, you easily caught the frisbee gasping at the shock of the situation. You quickly shook it off as you gripped the frisbee turning back to the child who profusely thanked you, his small hands shaking as they clutched onto the hem of your shirt. 

You simply smiled reassuringly tapping his shoe and ushering him back to his father who has begun to successfully calm the fussing baby down. 

With shaking knees you tried to get up only to wince and slightly waver at the sharp sting that hit your ankle area. You clenched your jaw feeling more than annoyed at the current situation in hand. 

You stood up grumbling under your breath as a tall figure jogged over to you. While he made his way toward you, your narrowed eyes met his wide, apologetic ones. 

You felt the world shift around you as a calming warmth shot through your body melding with the confusion and panic pooling in your gut, and his eyes widened impossibly as he stumbled managing to stabilize himself right in time in front of you. His figure standing just inches away from you as his hands trembled, and his lips slightly parted.

You got a slight whiff of cologne and mint, but more than anything, the weird feeling in your gut was making a way for the dreadful panic clouding around your heart. 

You felt warm. 

After feelings of feeling nothing but the hollow cold licking at your veins, there was a nice warmth settling in your chest. 

You were scared of it. 

With a heavy chest you slightly inched back left somewhat immobile due to the aching pain in your ankle. “What the hell?”, you immediately set off on questioning him leading him to shake his head frantically at you. 

“I’m so sorry, i really am.” He put his hand on his chest as if trying to prove his sincerity to you, but you breathlessly took a step back stunned by the intense feelings taking over your heart and mind. 

You tried shaking it off, but the warmth lingered. 

You weren’t sure you wanted it to go away. 

“There’s kids here”, you were so distracted by all the emotions circling your mind you couldn’t possibly put any effort into arguing with the young man. His lips parted to make way for his lips as he nodded his head in understanding. “I know, I'll be more careful next time. I promise.”

Somehow, you knew he was being truthful. You went to say something, possibly something dangerous, but you shook your head and waved your hand. 

You tried taking a step but lightly hissed at the sharp pain that shot from your ankle up your leg. The man instantly dove forward steadying you with a heavy hand between your shoulder blades, and the other hovering in worry near your collarbone. 

With wide eyes you looked at him as he realized his un-asked for touch and immediately went to back away. 

He couldn’t.  

Your hand was clutching the cloth of his shirt near his shoulder blades. Hands slowly uncurling, you smiled awkwardly, but he kept his hand where it was. At his touch, the warmth licking the insides of your body became all the more distracting. 

“Um, I don’t think you can go all the way back home like this”, he cleared his throat looking at you shily under his bangs. Flustered, you smiled at the ground before looking back up and timidly asking “I can't. Mind helping me out?”.

At your question he let out a beaming grin nodding eagerly. He went to stand in front of you, and he crouched down looking at you over his shoulder with soft brown eyes. You did a small jump, and were caught by his hands slightly gripping under your thighs. 

He gave a low chuckle that somehow was felt from where your chest was pressed up against his shoulder blades. “So...what’s your name?”. You let a light giggle escape, “Y/n, yours?”. You saw his jaw move with the syllables of your name whispering it to himself. 

“Yunho”, you smiled also sounding out the name on your own mouth. You gave a shuddering exhale, and you laid your head on his shoulder letting yourself really rest for what seemed like the first time in forever. 

That night you walked right past Ethan who was quick to begin yelling at you, and you tucked yourself under the safety of your blankets feeling the warmth still encasing your heart, so comforting and alive.  

[gretavansidecut]

Room to Breathe

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 4,297

Summary: You're out at a crowded bar with the boys and start to have a panic attack from all the sensory overload and your crush Josh helps you through it

Warnings: swearing, alcohol use, general angst, detailed descriptions of sensory overload, anxiety, and spiraling negative thoughts. If you find any of these things to be triggering or otherwise upsetting, please proceed with extreme caution!

A/N:  So I haven't written a fic in like... God, six years maybe? But this idea popped into my head the other night and just wouldn't leave so I figured what the heck, why not give this writing thing another try? I had an absolute blast writing this, and I hope you all enjoy it!

     You held your head in your hands, trying your best to steady your breathing as you took refuge in the bathroom stall. The pounding, brain-rattling music of the honky-tonk was slightly more bearable in the relative quiet of the restroom, but you still found yourself grinding your teeth as the noise was beginning to get to you. Densely packed places were always a challenge; you weren't necessarily afraid of crowds, or claustrophobic, or anything like that, it was more that the combination of the overbearing noise and the feeling of being packed in like a sardine tended to make you a little... Panicky, to say the least. It didn't help that just getting into the bar in the first place nearly gave you sensory overload either. But you weren't about to bail early if you could help it, and you weren’t about to let a little creeping panic ruin a night on the town with the guys of Greta Van Fleet, especially not when Josh was the one who'd invited you to come along. Besides, you could handle a crowded, noisy bar for one night, right?

     The sudden slamming of the bathroom door made you jump in your stall, the rowdy voices of drunk patrons shattering whatever peace you'd had up to that point. You let out a heavy sigh, figuring it was for the best as you'd already been in there for at least five minutes. Any longer and the guys might've started to get worried, or worse, come looking for you. You emerged from your stall, ignoring the drunk people and their slurred conversation to your left as you washed your hands, and then taking a moment to splash some water on your face. Just the thought of going back out into the noise and crowd was enough to make your chest tighten, and you couldn’t help but feel a little pissed off at the current situation. You’d been looking forward to this night out for over a week; a chance to properly spend time with the guys outside of work after doing odd jobs around their studio for the last few months, and you’d especially been looking forward to spending some time with Josh. As much as you hated to admit it, you’d developed a little bit of a crush on him over the course of working at the studio, but you figured there was no harm in dreaming as long as you kept things platonic and professional. He seemed to enjoy your company and laugh at your jokes, and you definitely enjoyed his in return. 

     You let out another shaky breath, taking a few more seconds to steel yourself before heading back out there. You knew this place would be packed, and you’d been ready for it, honestly you had. But today had just been one of those aggravating days, the kind where every little thing seemed to go wrong and rub you the wrong way. And when that happened, the panic would tend to creep in more easily, and with greater intensity. Still, you resolved to hold yourself together as best you could and not ruin the evening, glancing at yourself in the mirror to make sure you were presentable, before turning around and reentering the bar.

     All at once, the blaring music and roar of the crowd hit you, and you couldn't even hear yourself think. There were flashing neon lights hung up on every wall, a few TVs scattered here and there playing some sports channels, and people zipping about all over the place. It felt like your whole head was ringing, your eyes and ears begging for mercy already as you made your way back to the far corner of the room where the boys’ table was. You could eventually pick out Josh's boisterous laughter through the mayhem, and the four of them came into view just in time for you to see Josh lob a pretzel about 4 feet into the air, only for Jake to expertly and effortlessly catching it in his mouth. Danny and Sam both cheered at once, each of them swiftly downing a shot of tequila as Josh shared a high five with his twin.

     "Hell yeah Jakey, ten in a row, that's a new record!" He exclaimed in triumph, grabbing his glass and finishing what was left of his salty dog in one gulp. When he was done, he noticed you approaching the table and his eyes immediately lit up, though whether that was because of you or the sudden rush of alcohol you weren’t sure. Still, it was always nice to see him smile, even when you felt like you were on the verge of losing your mind.

     "Heeey, Y/N's back! Now we can get this party going again!" He slung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to his side as he grinned from ear to ear. In any other situation your hopeless crush on him would make you nervous if he got this close to you, but after your perilous trek to the bathroom and back a little contact from someone besides a total stranger was more than welcome.

     "Yeah, what took you so long?" Jake teased, popping another pretzel into his mouth. "We were starting to think you'd fallen into the sewers or something!"

     "No, that's what you thought Jake, me 'n Sam were betting they'd run off and joined the circus!" Danny added with a grin, his words slightly slurred from the tequila at this point.

     You swallowed tightly, flashing them a half-forced grin as you shook your head. “Guys, c’mon, be reasonable here, it was nothing like that... What really happened was an alligator popped up out of the toilet and we had a riveting conversation about quantum physics and string theory.”

     The guys erupted into laughter; Jake covering his mouth so he didn’t accidentally spit out his pretzel, Josh cackling to your left, Sam almost choking on his beer, and Danny holding his face in his palm as he snickered drunkenly. Even in your heightened state of anxiety, you couldn't help but genuinely laugh along with them in the moment. After all, even in a stressful situation the guys were still a hoot to be around. They each had their own oddball sense of humor that made you, a fellow oddball, feel right at home with them. And the fact that Josh's arm was still wrapped around your shoulder was pretty nice too. It was almost enough to make the blaring noise and packed-in-like-sardines feeling of the bar bearable... Almost.

     You were able to keep it together enough to have another round of drinks with them, finding solace in a simple vodka cranberry as the guys got drunker and more boisterous. Danny and Sam decided to have an arm wrestling contest, which Danny won quite easily given his drummer's arms, though that didn’t stop Sam from challenging him to a rematch, and still losing, five more times. Then Jake ended up slipping into his Oliver Reed impression, made all the more credible in his intoxicated state, and he began to ramble on about how wild and wonderful the filming of Tommy had been. Josh of course piped in when he could, commentating on Danny and Sam’s contest like a sports announcer and slipping into his own goofy voice as he ”interviewed” Mr. Reed. If this were happening anywhere else, literally anywhere else besides an overcrowded bar in the most overcrowded part of Nashville, you would've been having the absolute time of your life. But instead you found yourself getting more and more tense with each moment that passed by, the pounding noise and mass of shifting bodies behind you making your pulse race and your head ache. Your drink had done absolutely nothing to calm your nerves, and not even the continued feeling of Josh's arm on your shoulder seemed to help, and you were starting to resent the fact that you couldn't even enjoy that.

     You finally hit your limit when you felt the sharp point of someone's elbow jab into the middle of your back, and you flinched hard away from the source of the sudden contact. You could feel Josh’s arm tighten around your shoulder slightly, and everyone's heads whipped around to see a young woman, clearly drunk and looking very apologetic.

     "O-oh shit, I'm so sorry sweetie!" She slurred out, steadying herself on her feet. "Didn't mean t'hitcha! Jus' tryin' to get s'more drinks for my table!"

     The guys all nodded, assuring her it was and honest mistake and she gave them all a smile and a wave as she staggered off towards the bar. You, on the other hand, couldn’t even bring yourself to look at her, your eyes locked on an empty glass on the table as the ringing in your head became unbearable, every nerve and muscle in your body suddenly taut like a bowstring. The guys kept talking, though what about you had no clue, unable to make out what they were saying as your own pulse pounded in your ears. In the back of your mind you thought you could feel Josh's thumb rubbing gently against your shoulder, almost in a soothing kind of motion, but you honestly couldn't be sure right now. Every molecule in your body was struggling to keep it together as you quickly spiraled into a frenzied panic, and the only thing you were absolutely positive was true was that you had to get out of there fast.

     "Hey... You alright?" Josh's voice was suddenly clear and crisp in your ears like a bell, and it was enough to snap you out of your spiral for just a second and address the table. Though the way Jake, Sam, and Danny were looking at you expectantly made you feel like you wanted to run and hide under a rock. If there was one thing you hated more than having a breakdown in public, it was people knowing you were having a breakdown in public.

     "O-oh yeah, I'm good! Sh-she just startled me is all..." Your voice trailed off, and you swallowed dryly as you fought back tears. "I... I'm just gonna s-step outside for a second and get some air, yeah?" You said with a plastered-on smile, doing your best to not let them know anything was wrong as you reluctantly wormed your way out of Josh's grip and made your way towards the nearest door. You pushed your way through the crowd, ignoring the protests as you bumped into several people along the way, struggling to focus long enough to make it to your goal. You could feel your throat tightening, hot tears stinging your eyes as shame and embarrassment crept into your panic stricken mind. ‘Seriously? You couldn't even handle one night out in a crowded bar? You just had to let your sort-of-crappy day get to you and ruin everyone's night, didn't you?’

     Finally reaching the door, you stumbled out of it, desperately trying to catch your breath as you welcomed the sudden rush of fresh air. Unfortunately, in your panic, the door you ended up choosing wasn’t the one that led to the bar's outdoor area like you thought, but the front door, and you suddenly found yourself adrift in the churning tide of rowdy, drunken humanity that was the Broadway strip on a Friday night. You didn't even bother trying to hold the tears back at this point, completely overwhelmed and hyperventilating as you found the quietest spot in sight, an empty doorway on the other side of the bar's front windows, and sank to the ground. You hugged your knees tightly as you brought them up to your chest, shaking as you buried your face in your arms, the blaring noise, blinding lights, and sheer presence of the crowd causing you to shut down on the spot.

     The feeling of a hand on your shoulder jolted you out of your stupor, and you scrambled away from the touch as fast as you could with a startled scream. You were fully prepared to yell at whatever stranger had just touched you, because the last thing you needed right now was some rando putting their hands on you. To your mix of shock and relief, it was Josh's face that you saw, his eyes a little wide as he held up both of his hands in a defensive manner.

     "Easy Y/N, it's just me, it’s Josh!" He said as softly as he could while still being audible over the throng of the crowd. You couldn't find it in you to respond, just staring at him like a deer caught in a car’s headlights as your body started to shake uncontrollably. You suddenly realized there was, in fact, something you hated more than people knowing you were having a breakdown in public, and that was your goddamn crush knowing that you were having a breakdown in public. In the back of your panic-stricken mind you wondered, if you just stayed still long enough, whether Josh would just turn around and leave you alone. You realized just how futile that thought was when he did quite the opposite and extended a hand out to you.

     "It's pretty intense out here. Let's go find a quieter spot, alright?"

     The rest of your body still shaking, you nodded your head eagerly, accepting his hand as he pulled you up off the ground. Once you were standing, he let go of your hand and wrapped that same arm around your waist, pulling you in close to his side as he cocked his head in one direction.

     "You're ok, just stay close to me, I'll get you out of here."

     You hastily nodded again, unable to make words or maintain eye contact as you turned your gaze to the concrete below you and let Josh guide you through the sea of bodies. It felt like you were in there forever, the crowd shifting all around you, and any time you felt someone get too close, your body began to lock up and freeze. The only thing that kept you upright and moving was Josh's arm curled around your side, keeping you grounded as he led you away from the worst of the crowd. Eventually it dawned on you that the number of people around you were thinning out, the noise getting less and less intense as Josh led you up a street and then some kind of steep ramp. A cool rush of air and the sudden smell of water hit your nostrils and you glanced upwards to get your bearings just in time to realize that Josh was leading you over the river on the pedestrian bridge, towards the eastern side of the city and away from the bedlam of Broadway. You were about three quarters of the way over the bridge before he pulled you off to the side, leading you right up to the railing where you could clearly feel the breeze. The cacophony you'd just escaped from was still very much audible from this distance, but you found its volume to be much more bearable now. There was also plenty of room out here, as well as far fewer people, and for the first time since you'd entered the bar earlier that night, you felt like you could finally breathe.

     You leaned forward, bracing yourself against the railing as you took deep breaths in through your nose, before slowly exhaling through your mouth, and you could feel your body ever so slowly start to relax more and more with each one you took. Josh was quiet for the time being, his hand moving from your side to your back and rubbing up and down in a soothing motion while you caught your breath. Despite feeling calmer, the tears were more difficult to stop, anger and embarrassment at yourself nagging you in the back of your mind, unable to shake the feeling that you'd just ruined whatever fun he'd been having that night.

     You felt something soft touch your arm and you looked up to see a packet of tissues in Josh's other hand as he offered them to you, still silently rubbing your back. You happily accepted them, tearing the plastic open and grabbing a couple before reaching up and wiping your face, your breath still hitching here and there as you tried to steady yourself mentally. After a few more moments of quiet you finally heard Josh speak up, his voice soft and concerned.

     "How're you doing? Any better?"

     You bit your lip out of nerves, nodding as you finally worked up the courage to look him in the eye for the first time since leaving the doorway by the bar. You were expecting to see anger, annoyance, judgement; honestly all the things you felt about yourself right now reflected back at you in his face, but instead you saw nothing but sympathy and concern painted across his features. In any other situation you'd be positively swooning over how he was looking at you so tenderly. It was another couple moments before the ability to speak finally came back to you, and you let out a heavy, shaking sigh.

     “Y-yeah I… I’m alright now…. Thanks.” you trailed off, trying to swallow down the shame that had been slowly creeping into your mind. “I… I’m so sorry about this… I d-didn’t mean to ruin everyone’s night.”

     “Ok, first of all-” Josh said in a calm but firm voice, his palm on your back pressing into you a bit more and pulling you closer to him. “We’re not gonna do that tonight, alright? You didn’t ruin damn thing, you had a panic attack and that’s not your fault.” It took everything in you to not star crying again when he said that, though at least this time it would've been because you were touched by his concern and not because you were upset.

     “And second, I should be the one apologizing to you. That street can be really intense if you’re not ready for it, and I should’ve checked with you ahead of time that you were. I never would’ve picked such a crowded spot if I knew that was gonna be an issue for you.”

     You sniffled a little bit, shaking your head as you slowly pulled yourself together. “I-it’s ok, really... Like, normally I can handle crowds and loud noise, but being packed in like that, with everyone bumping into you and all the noise and lights on top of it... that can just be too much for me to handle sometimes, you know?” You watched as Josh nodded along to what you spoke, indicating that he was listening, and knowing that he wasn't going to judge you for how you reacted was helping the residual panic and shame you still felt fade away.

     “And then on top of that, today just like.... kind of sucked, in general. I mean, nothing terrible happened or anything, but it was a whole bunch of little things, one after the other. I totally fucked up making breakfast, my cat threw up on my favorite pair of shoes, I got a parking ticket for a really ridiculous reason, and I have some other work deadlines coming up that’re stressing me out, so I already wasn’t in the best headspace to deal with all of...That tonight.” you gestured your hand back towards the direction of Broadway. 

     "Then when that chick jabbed me in the back it just... snapped something inside me. I-I know it was an accident, and I don’t blame her for what she did, but it honestly startled me so bad, and I just lost it..."

     "I don’t blame you,” he replied sympathetically “That’s entirely too much shit to deal with in a single day.” 

     "And like... I-I know I could’ve asked for a raincheck, but I didn't wanna like, be rude or have you guys think I was blowing you off. Because I didn’t want to blow you guys off! Especially not for something so stupid..."

     "Hey, it's not stupid at all." He replied adamantly, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Those kind of crappy days have a way if wearing you down way harder than you’d think." 

     You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding as it felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. You’d been so, so worried that Josh was going to be angry, or that he wouldn’t have understood what had happened, as had been the case for you so many times before. His hand began gently rubbing your back again in a soothing motion, and the two of you slipped into silence for a moment, letting the cool breeze coming off of the river wash over you. Even with the music still pounding in the distance, you could hear the sound of the river rushing under you if you listened closely enough, and so you did, finding the sound incredibly soothing. It was almost hypnotizing in a way, and you weren’t sure how much time had passed before Josh spoke again, but when he did, you were a little surprised by what he had to say.

     “I know a couple smaller clubs on the outskirts of the city we could check out next time. They've still got all the good drinks and music, but they aren’t nearly as intense as that one was.” he suggested, flashing you a warm smile.

     “I mean, don’t get me wrong, those definitely sound like my kind of place. But you seriously want me to hang out with you guys again after that whole mess?”

     “Of course! So you had a bad night, it happens to the best of us. We aren’t gonna hold it against you. Besides, why wouldn’t we wanna hang out with someone as awesome as you?”

     You let out a small chuckle,  a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as nervous blush crept onto your cheeks. “Well, I’m not sure about awesome... but I’m glad to know you guys enjoy my company.”

     “What, are you kidding me?” he retorted enthusiastically, his dark eyes sparkling in the dim lights of the bridge. “You’re absolutely awesome! You’re so nice and welcoming to everyone, you’ve got an incredible sense of humor, great taste in music, and you are delightfully weird!” You were glad the lighting on the bridge wasn’t the best where you were standing, because your face was rapidly turning red as he kept showering you with compliments. 

     “Well, thank you.” You replied somewhat shyly, a grin spreading across your face as you found Josh’s good mood infectious, feeling much more at ease now than you had earlier. In a sudden streak of boldness you struck a small pose, with one hand framing your face dramatically. “But what, no mention of my flawless good looks?”

     You were just kidding around, of course, and Josh knew you were too. But even still, you couldn't help but notice the way Josh’s eyes widened and his smile twitched ever so slightly when you said that, or how he seemed to be blushing if the way his cheekbones suddenly appeared darker were anything to go by. 

     “I mean...” he began with a small shrug, his smile downright sheepish at this point “That’s so incredibly obvious that I kinda figured it went without saying. But they’re definitely a bonus!”

     You let out a nervous laugh, feeling your face burn from the sudden rush of blood to it, and you turned to face back towards the river. You couldn’t keep looking at him when he said that, not when he said it while he had his hand on your back, not when he was blushing while he said it, not when he said it so... so earnestly. You pressed into his side a bit more firmly, and you swore you could feel his heart beating faster in his chest.

     “Yeah, well... don’t sell yourself short, you’ve got a face that could give Errol Flynn a run for his money.” you half-teased, nudging him affectionately in the ribs with your elbow. He let out a small chuckle beside you, his arm still firmly wrapped around your shoulder and he gave your arm a soft, affectionate squeeze in return. The two of you said nothing for a moment, just enjoying each other’s company and touch as you both gazed out over the river, watching the lights of the city twinkle and glimmer on it’s dark surface.

     “Is... is it cool if we just stay up here for a little while?” you asked, suddenly feeling very physically tired after this whole ordeal. “I hate to just ditch the others and leave them in that bar, but I honestly don’t think I could handle going back in there tonight.”

     “Oh don’t worry, a bar is the best place we could possibly leave them.” Josh said with a chuckle. “But seriously, we can stay out here as long as you need.” he assured, giving you a firm hug from the side and flashing you a soft, reassuring smile. “We don’t have to go anywhere.”

     A sudden surge of warmth and fatigue washed over you, and you found yourself leaning more heavily into Josh’s frame, which he seemed to welcome, finally letting your head come to rest on his shoulder. Your eyes slipped closed for a second, and you took a deep breath before letting out a soft, contented sigh.

     “Thank you so much for everything you did for me tonight. I seriously can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” He hummed softly in reply as he leaned back against you, the weight of his cheek suddenly pressing into the top of your head. 

     “Anytime, Y/N. I’ll always have your back.”

[expectingtofly]

Take a Load Off

2.5k

fluff, post-canon, human!cas, anxious dean, established dean/cas

(i saw this post by @emptymeg and couldn’t get it out of my head, so here’s a fic :)

also posted on ao3

“What’s in the box?” Dean asked, coming into the library to see Cas setting a large package on the map table with a huff. The table creaked under its weight. “Hey, name that movie.”

Cas cocked his head. “What movie?”

Dean groaned. “Seriously, dude, you’re hopeless. What’s in the box! Brad Pitt?” Cas shrugged and Dean sighed. “Forget it.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Cas said, fetching scissors from a drawer, “This box is for you. I bought you something.”

“Oh?” Dean came to the table, interest even more piqued. “What kind of something?”

Cas gave him a look. “Not what you’re thinking.” He cut through the tape securing the box. “I read that this can relieve stress and help you sleep better.”

“I already know something that can do that.” He added a wink for good measure.

“So,” Cas continued, ignoring him, “I thought you should try it. You haven’t been getting enough sleep lately and I’m worried about your anxiety levels.”

“Wait a moment,” Dean protested. “What do you mean, my ‘anxiety levels’?” Cas opened the box and he leaned over to look at the contents. Folded, silky dark grey fabric. “What is that, a blanket?”

“A weighted blanket,” Cas corrected, heaving it out of the box. “Twenty pounds.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” He plucked at the fabric. “This is supposed to help?"

“It’s proven by science.” He nodded at a chair by Dean. “Go, sit.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean sat down and Cas draped the blanket over him. “Fuck.” Dean lifted his arms up under the blanket, then dropped them. “This is actually heavy.”

“Do you feel relaxed?”

“I feel ridiculous.”

“You don’t look it at all,” Cas deadpanned and Dean kicked at him. Cas pulled a brochure out of the box. “Soft cotton filled with poly pellets,” he read. “Alleviate anxiety and increase serotonin.” He studied Dean, eyes squinted. “You still look tense.”

“Sorry, Cas.” Dean shoved the blanket to the floor with a thump. “Think you got duped.”

“You’re not doing it right,” Cas grumbled, picking it up off the ground. “You have to give it a chance.”

“I just gave it a chance.” Standing, he brushed Cas’ hair off his forehead, gave him his best you love me smile. “Now, do you really wanna help me relax?”

Cas studied him for a long moment, then said, “Okay.” He carefully folded the blanket. “We’re keeping this, though. I still think it’ll work.”

Dean made a face behind his back and started to follow him out of the room, but the phone Sam had recently installed in the library for a hunter hotline started ringing. He groaned and Cas hesitated in the doorway.

“Do I have to?” Dean asked him.

“I suppose so,” Cas sighed and set the blanket down on a chair. Turns out the call was from a hunter out near Boise who needed help with a case. Of course, Sam was away visiting Eileen, so he and Cas got stuck spending the next two hours going over the case information, trying to figure out what the monster was. They finally settled on vetala, a whole pack of them, and after instructing the hunter on how to kill them, Dean hung up the phone.

“Fuck,” he swore, rubbing at his eyes. “Who knows how big the pack is. Could be a whole dozen of the freaks.”

“Well, now she knows how to kill them,” Cas said. “And there’s other hunters in the area who can help.”

“Yeah...” Dean fiddled with his pen, tapping it on the open pages of his dad’s journal.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked.

Dean realized he was frowning. “Nothing.” Flexing his shoulders, he stretched out his back, stiff from poring over books. ��Just, three people are already dead. I better be right that it’s a pack of vetala.”

Reaching over, Cas rubbed his back in small circles and Dean leaned back into his hand. “We did all we could, Dean.”

Dean wasn’t so sure that was true. But, short of driving all night out to Boise, he supposed there wasn’t much else they could do. Still, he didn’t like the idea that he might’ve missed a clue, might’ve misled the hunter. He clicked his pen again and again, going over the case in his mind, worst case scenarios—

“Are you going to sleep now?” Cas asked, and Dean glanced at him.

“No.” Dropping the pen, he pushed his chair back and got to his feet. “Don’t think I can now.”

“Would you say you’re feeling stressed? Anxious, perhaps?” Cas deliberately looked to his right and Dean followed his gaze to the weighted blanket folded on a chair.

“Dude, don’t even start.”

“You should use it,” Cas urged. “There’s no shame in feeling anxious, I often feel the same way too.”

“I’ve dealt with worse before, this is nothing new. Just comes with the job.”

Cas sighed. “You put too much on your shoulders.”

Dean shrugged. “Like I said, comes with the job.” If he wasn’t always on edge, he figured he was doing things wrong. Get too comfortable and bad things happened. Just the way it was.

“Still, you can admit you need a break.”

“Jeez, Cas, I’m wounded.” Dean pressed a hand to his chest. “It’s like you don’t even know me.”

Cas rolled his eyes and stood. “Don’t stay up too late.” He seemed to hesitate, fighting against saying more, and Dean said,

“I’m fine, Cas, really.”

“Okay.” Cas didn’t look too convinced, but he kissed Dean goodnight and headed off to their bedroom.

Dean cleaned up the mess of books and papers on the table, turned off the lamps just to do something with his hands. Normally, this is when he’d grab a drink, try to calm his head, but he’d been trying to cut back lately—blame Cas’ concern for his liver—so instead he decided to head to the Dean Cave. Maybe a few episodes of Dr. Sexy would distract himself enough to sleep.

Leaving the room, his eyes fell on the weighted blanket again. Cas and his ridiculous ideas. If Dean hadn’t been sleeping too well lately, that was just the result of living their kind of life. Nothing to do about it. Ignore the stress or end up drowning in it, that was his motto.

(And a horrible coping method, according to Sam and Cas)

Either way, lying under twenty pounds of “cotton and poly pellets” wasn’t going to help. Though the blanket had been really soft, he’d give it that.

He forgot all about it the following day, though, when Sam found a case a few towns over, and Dean and Cas drove over to meet him there. Disturbed gravesites, people disappearing near the cemetery at night. A ghoul, by all signs. A day of morgue visits and interviewing witnesses, then another two days of sitting parked in the cemetery, waiting for the ghoul to emerge again and feed. Dean was almost happy to see the thing when it crawled out of its grave. Almost.

Killing the damn thing hadn’t been too easy. But after inadvertently destroying a few gravestones, nearly falling into an open grave, and narrowly avoiding losing a few limbs, they finally bashed the ghoul’s brains in thoroughly, and split up from the cemetery. Dean went to speak to the latest victim’s mother while Cas and Sam got rid of the remains.

Returning to the bunker first, Dean showered, blood and ghoul remains washing away down the drain. But even the warm water couldn’t ease the jitteriness sitting high in his chest. The ghoul had been strong, fast, and Dean’s heart had leapt into his throat when it got a hold of Sam. Even Cas had struggled to stop the thing, gunshots only serving to anger the son of a bitch more.

Getting out of the shower, he scrubbed himself dry with his towel, inspected a cut along his arm. Not deep enough for stitches. If Sam had avoided a concussion, they were lucky. The ghoul was dead, at least. Left a dozen ruined graves and a few torn apart teenagers in its wake, but dead.

As he changed into clean clothes, he heard the bunker door open. “All good?” he asked, entering the war room to find Sam and Cas setting down their bags.

“If you mean will the trunk always reek like ghoul, then yes,” Sam said. He grimaced as he took off his boots, muddy footprints already leaving a trail down the bunker stairs. Then he glanced at his phone and smiled, said, “Eileen’s calling.”

“Whipped,” Dean mouthed at him as Sam answered his phone, smiling at the screen and walking off down the hallway. “Well,” he told Cas, ”you look like shit.”

Cas gave him his best, I can smite you even without my grace look. “Charming.” He headed off down the hallway towards their bedroom and Dean followed. “How did Mrs. Landis take the news?”

Dean sucked in a breath. “Uh, 'bout how you'd expect, I guess. Told her a bear had gotten to her son, but it was all taken care of now. Not much else to say.”

The mother had sobbed and thanked him. He’d done a piss poor job of comforting her and left with an all-too-familiar sick feeling in his stomach; they hadn’t done enough, they could never save everyone.

“And you?” Cas asked, pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced at Dean as he pushed open the door to their bedroom. “Are you alright?”

Dean started to nod, say fine, but he knew Cas would see straight through the lie. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he shrugged, dropping his hands into his lap. “Just shook up. Coulda been a bad one.”

Cas nodded as he pulled off his trenchcoat, the edges bloody and muddy. “We’re all safe. You don’t have to torture yourself thinking about what could’ve happened.”

Dean shut his eyes, took a deep breath. “I know.” Easier said than done.

He heard Cas’s footsteps, then felt Cas’ fingers on his cheek and tilted his head into his palm. Breathed in and out. Cas smelled like blood and guts and sweat, not a particularly pleasant combination, but his hand was warm and his other hand was carding through his hair and, shit, that felt nice.

“Go to sleep,” Cas said quietly. “You need rest.”

Dean nodded and Cas kissed the top of his head. He left to take a shower and Dean scrubbed his hands over his face.

Fuck, this hunt had been a close one. Closer than they’d had in a long time.

Dropping his hands, his eyes settled on the weighted blanket that Cas had left folded on the chair at the desk, a silent plea for him to use it. He rolled his eyes. Anxious, his ass.

He started to pull the covers back on the bed, but the thought of lying down with the hunt running on repeat through his head was less than appealing. Cas’ trenchcoat hung bloody on the wall, and Dean clenched his hands into fists to stop them from shaking, adrenaline and nerves still rushing through him.

Alright, maybe a little anxious.

With a glance at the door to convince himself Cas would be in the shower for a little while longer, he grabbed the blanket, brought it to their bed.

Getting under the covers, he draped the blanket over himself and lay down, shifting to get comfortable. Once settled, he stared up at the ceiling and waited for the miracle blanket to work its wonders. How much money had Cas spent on this shit? He really had to hide the credit cards.

He shifted again, the mattress creaking, and dropped back with a huff. Not that he didn’t appreciate Cas trying to help, but a twenty-pound blanket wasn’t what he needed. What he needed was a full night of sleep and a blow job and an all-expenses-paid trip to Cancún. His nose was itchy, his knee was bruised, his back was fucked up from getting thrown against a gravestone, Sam had already found another case in Albuquerque, and, fuck, he was just so damn tired.

Shutting his eyes, he forced himself to breathe through the sensation of his chest tightening. He could feel the blanket rise and fall with every deliberate breath, and he counted like Sam had taught him years ago when he’d woken with a panic attack—breathe in for seven seconds, hold for four, let out for eight.

Don’t think about what could’ve happened. We’re all safe. Cas is safe, Sam is safe. I’m safe.

His heartbeat slowly settled. The blanket’s weight was strangely comforting, warm, trapping him under the covers. Forced to stay still, he felt his limbs slowly relax into the mattress, the tenseness in his shoulders dissipating, his back easing and hands curling loosely along the sheets.

Okay. Shit. Maybe there was something to this weighted blanket thing. His mind grew hazier as his thoughts began to wander, and he found himself drifting off to sleep when the bedroom door creaked open and startled his eyes open.

“You’re using it,” Cas whispered excitedly, standing in the doorway. “Are you relaxed?”

“Fuck off,” Dean told him. He would’ve flipped him off, but that would require lifting his hand out from under the blanket and he was too—dammit, Cas was right—relaxed to move.

“I knew it would be perfect,” Cas said, sounding too triumphant. Shutting the door softly, he got into bed next to him—well, tried to. He shoved at the blanket encroaching on his side of the bed. “Dean, move over.”

“Nope.” Dean shut his eyes again. “Reap what you have sown.”

Grumbling, Cas turned off the light and got under the covers with more rustling and movement than necessary. Finally, he settled down. The bunker hummed, the heating running, the pipes in the walls creaking as a shower turned on down the hallway. The blanket heavy on top of him, Dean began to fall asleep again.

“Are you really gonna keep that on all night?” Cas asked, disturbing the quiet.

“Yup.”

Cas huffed and Dean could only keep up the ruse for a few more seconds before lifting the edge of the blanket. “Come on, get under.”

Sliding over, Cas got underneath, and they laid side by side, pressed against each other. Their fingers brushed, and Dean crooked a finger around Cas’ thumb.

“This is nice,” Cas commented, voice quiet. “I’m glad it’s helping.”

“Mhm.” He was starting to think he should’ve bought one of these things a long time ago. He hadn’t realized how strung out he was before until now, all the tension in his body slipping away.

Cas shifted onto his side and Dean blinked open his eyes to look at him. “I guess I was right all along, wasn’t I?”

“Don’t push it.” He caught Cas’ smile in the dark and elbowed him on principle before shifting over to kiss him. Then he tugged at Cas’ arm and turned onto his side, prompting Cas to press close against his back and wrap an arm around him.

He smiled, eyes falling shut at the warm press of the blanket and Cas’ body around his. Now he was relaxed.

tag list:

@becky-srs @xojo @marvelnaturalock @aelysianmuse @prayedtoyou @letsjustdieeveryone @good-things-do-happen-dean @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @theninthdutchessofhell @madronasky @famouspsychicpizzabandit @multifandomdisorder @arcticfox007  @improvedpeanut @castiel-is-a-cat @harmonyhelms @thetrueliesofafangirl @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you @theangelwiththewormstache @confusedisaster @welcome-to-crowleys-hellhole @celestialcastiel

let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list :)

[peachsayshi]

Chapter 11 - Friends

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Angst, Fluff

Summary: You convince Gojo to make up with your best friend and memories from the past come up. 

A/N: A wild ex-boyfriend appears! I am finally introducing the character and getting into some backstory. I got some smutty chapters coming up, which I am excited to share because I do love writing sexy Gojo X comments are always appreciated! 

- - - 

( Three Years Ago)

You cleared the plates in front of you as you made your way back to your kitchen. You packed the meal that you had taken the time to meticulously prepare, including the expensive steaks you bought this morning and the vegetables that you hand picked at the farmer’s market. As you opened the fridge to put away the items, you saw the row of vanilla cupcakes placed neatly on a pan, your shaky handwriting spread across each one that read “ Five Years ” with red hearts decorated on the extras. Suddenly, it all seemed silly how you took the time to prepare a surprise anniversary dinner for your boyfriend. You’ve both been together for so long but you still insisted on making every occasion special.

After you tidied up your dining table, you picked up the wine glass you have been nursing for the last hour and made your way over to your bedroom, where you sat on the chair next to your vanity. You removed the earrings that your boyfriend had bought you for your birthday, your favorite pair because they matched beautifully against your skin, and safely tucked them away in your jewelry box. You were disappointed that you made such a big deal out of tonight, feeling like a sentimental fool as you took a sip of your drink. Haru has been so preoccupied with work lately and the pressure of being in a highly competitive field was getting to him. Of course with the way things have been he wouldn’t remember that tonight was your anniversary dinner. You were trying to be mature about it but you couldn’t ignore that you were hurt. You glanced at your phone, reading 10:45 on the clock before finally giving up on the hope that he would show up.

You removed the dress you were wearing, a bold shade of orange that accentuated your body in all the right places - a dress that he bought you while you both went on a summer trip to Okinawa a few years ago. You changed into something a little more comfortable, throwing on a tank top and some loose lounge pants instead.

You heard your phone ping, a message popping up on the screen from Gojo.

Gojo : How did the dinner go?

You sighed to yourself, before plopping down onto your mattress. You tapped away at the keyboard, erasing each message a few times as you were unsure whether you wanted to vent or give him a brief explanation.

You : It didn’t…I think he’s still at work :(

Gojo : That sucks :\ Well, if you have any leftover cupcakes, I will gladly take them off your hands.

You: Nice try, idiot.

Gojo: I didn’t hear you say I couldn’t have any :)

When you didn’t respond to his message, Gojo followed up with another text that read:

Gojo: You okay?

You: I’m fine, I was just looking forward to tonight. I’ll get over myself. Tell me about your night, you can keep me preoccupied from my disappointment lol

Gojo merely responded with some eye emojis, a cheeky indication as to what he has been up to this evening.

You: At least one of us got some action...what’s her name?

Gojo: No idea, I was too distracted by her legs to care.  

You merely rolled your eyes at his comment.

You: It doesn’t take much to get you going, does it?

Gojo: I’m a simple guy, really…

You: …

Gojo: …

You: In WHAT universe?!

Gojo : Pshh, so mean to me all the time :(

You: With reason :)

You smiled when you sent that last text, grateful that Gojo came in at the right time with a distraction. You tried your best not to dwell on the dismal way your evening ended and instead continued to list off the many reasons why the word “simple” and “Gojo Satoru” did not go hand and hand with each other. Your conversation made time fly but that was usually the case whenever you spoke with your friend.

You were so lost in the playfully heated debate you were having, you barely heard the knock coming from your front door.

You abandoned your conversation to see who it was, surprised to find a massive bouquet of flowers greeting you on the other side.

“What…”

Haru peaked from behind the flowers, his sweet smile spreading as he looked at you with sad eyes.

“Happy anniversary!” he chirped, but you could hear the anxiousness in his tone. “ I know I’m late, I know I missed dinner…”

A deep sigh escaped him, as he slightly slumped his shoulders, extending both his hands out to you to pass the bouquet.

“I know this is a meaningless gift in comparison to whatever amazing thing you prepared, I know my efforts don’t even come close to yours, you always put so much care into everything you do. By the time I knew I was late, I was running around the city like a mad man hoping that someone, anyone, would be kind enough to open their shop for me so I would at least not come back empty handed…”

“Haru, take a breath…” you replied, hearing how quickly he was blurting out his words, something he usually did when he was nervous.

You took the bouquet from his hands, admiring the selected assortment of your favorite florals, all picked out by your boyfriend. You traced your fingers along each petal, some a little bruised and you could tell that these flowers were from  the leftovers of the day.

Haru approached you, cupping your face in his hands as he leaned down and planted a kiss on your lips.

“I’m so sorry . None of my excuses justify missing dinner tonight. I swear I am going to make it up to you…”

You tried to calm him down, running your fingers through his light brown hair and taking in every word he said as you remained focused on his hazel eyes. Your heart flutters thinking of him galavanting around the city in his disheveled work suit trying to knock on every florists’ door, a funny anecdote you will surely use against him in the future.  

“How do you plan on making it up to me?” You teased, noticing the way his brow raised at your question.

He pulled you closer into him, planting kisses along your neck before he brushed his lips against your ear to say, “I’m taking the weekend off, how does a nice trip to Hakone sound?”

“ Mmm, ideal… ” you replied, clutching the bouquet of flowers as he hugged you, “but if you keep holding me close, you’re going to ruin this lovely gift you bought me…”

“Then I’ll buy you another, and another, and another ...until I’ve given you enough flowers so that you can plant an entire garden,” he kissed you again, his fingers stroking the back of your neck as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I’m so sorry, baby…” he repeated, his voice wavering slightly from his second apology.

“It’s okay, work comes first. I know you have been busy and probably should have planned our evening with you instead of surprising you. But you’re here now and that's what matters.”

He nodded his head, finally untangling himself from your arms, relieved that you seemed to have forgiven him.

“ I love you so much.”

“ I love you too, Haru .”

You gave him a small smile, tilting your head towards the direction of your kitchen, “It might be too late for dinner but I baked you some cupcakes if you’re up for a little snack…”

Haru removed his blazer, carefully hanging it over his elbow before undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. He held your hand, following your footsteps as you led him into the direction of your kitchen.

“ I can’t wait to try them. ”

( Present)

“ You brought me here under false pretences …” Gojo grumbled, holding himself back as you tugged on his jacket.

It’s been four months since the two of you started hooking up and weeks since he and Rina have even spoken to one another.

After Gojo confessed that she knew about your relationship, you managed to find the time to sit down with your best friend for a heart to heart. The two of you had a ritual which included locking yourselves up in a room with snacks  and drinks until you came to resolve whatever conflict you were dealing with.

“I just don’t understand why you kept this from me,” Rina explained, before taking a sip of the mixed cocktail you both made.

“ You’ve been so overprotective ever since Haru and I broke up…it’s hard for me to talk to you because you start analyzing every little thing I do. Like when I told you I wanted to stop dating for a while, you kept insisting that I was making a mistake because I was running scared…”

“I also know you’re a hopeless romantic, and a few bad dates weren’t fitting this idealised version you have of love…” Rina pressed, “You got lucky with Haru, but diving back into the game takes time and work…”

“I know I was lucky. I know it’s not usual for the first guy you meet to be so… good ,” you replied, that word tasting bitter in your mouth, “But you keep pressuring me into something I am not ready for…”

“That’s not true!”

“Rina, you would take me out on “surprise” double dates when the two of us were just supposed to just be hanging out together. Whenever I talk about Haru, you shut down and change the subject immediately. I can’t even have a night out together without you herding every single eligible male and asking me my opinion…”

Rina sighed, “it sounds way worse when you say it out loud...”

“It’s like you can’t stand that I’m just… a little broken . I let Haru become a part of who I am for five years and losing him feels like I lost a part of me, and I am struggling trying to get that person back. You want me to be okay so badly it’s stopping me from opening up to you…”

Rina inched her way closer as the two of you sat side by side. A sigh escaped her before she spoke, “I’m not good at this…I’m sorry for making you feel that way. I just can’t stand seeing you so hurt. I know that he took a piece of your happiness and I am so angry that he did. I hate that he betrayed your trust, but more so that you haven’t been able to be yourself without him…”

She squeezed your shoulder before giving you a gentle reminder, “but he never defined you. You’re attaching yourself to the love you had for him. And you will find somebody else, somebody better …”

“Maybe but I can’t see myself falling in love again…at least not anytime soon…”

Rina rested her head on your elbow, “I don’t want you to ever think you can’t speak to me…we’ve lasted way longer than all the exes that have walked in and out of our lives…”

You were happy to mend this small fracture, one of the many that has tried to hinder your friendship.

You eventually explained your little arrangement with Gojo, watching Rina’s reaction closely and trying to pull the truth of what she  exactly  said to him.

“I may have thought you were dating, like seriously dating, and told him he wasn’t good enough for you. I am glad to know that you are not. We don’t need to trade one man whore for another…”

You laughed, “Gojo has always made it clear that he has no desire to commit to anyone. I’m not worried. Besides, we can stop our arrangement anytime we are over it.”

“Sooo, when might that be?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “right now, I’m having fun and I think he is too…”

Rina hummed, you could tell she was thinking about something but whatever ran through her mind in that moment she chose to keep to herself.

Even though you and Rina smoothed things over, you realised that neither she or Gojo tried to make an effort to speak to one another. He was avoiding her at all costs while she chose to ignore  the subject entirely. You still had no idea what was said that set those two off but you were over this cold game they were playing.

“Between your inability to handle any confrontation and her stubborn attitude, you two are going to drag this on for way longer than it needs to be…” you lectured.

You paused when you arrived at her store, staring up at Gojo with pleading eyes. “I don’t like being the reason why you two aren’t speaking… please just talk to her…”

Gojo whined, “throw it on my conscience instead, that way you have no reason to feel guilty…”

You furrowed your brows before letting go of him, but a thought passed your mind which gave you an idea, “Remember that thing you brought up the other night? Your little roleplaying idea…”

Gojo arched his brows from underneath his blindfold, surprised that you were even bringing this up. “ Yes… ”

You smirked, stepping closer to him without actually touching him at all. “If you do this for me then I'll happily return the favor…”

His eyes widened, his heart racing slightly as a wave of excitement rushed through him.

You could see he was contemplating your offer, finally scoffing in defeat. “You know saying no to you was a lot easier when you weren’t bribing me with sex…” he grumbled, as he begrudgingly walked passed you.

“You did tell me once that you were a man of simple taste…”

“And I vividly remember you disagreeing with me.”

“Thank you!” You called out watching him reach the handle of the entrance door.

“Just know I am expecting you to hold up your end of the deal,” he replied before making his way inside.

***

Gojo sat at the counter, the awkward silence hung heavy in the air as Rina waited for him to break the tension. When that didn’t happen, she sighed to herself before storming to the backroom of her shop.

Gojo waited for her return, his eyes widening when she finally reappeared with something in her hands.

“ I’m sorry for how I spoke to you,” she said, bowing in his direction and handing him some treats.

“Aww, Rina-chan, how did you know kikufuku was my favorite?” Gojo questioned, his tone softening his sweet words as he held the packet between his fingers.

“I heard it through the grapevine…”

Gojo couldn’t hide his pleasured grin.

You were always so considerate of everyone, going above and beyond to make them happy and paying close attention to the things they liked the most. You must have already spoken to Rina before he came here, playing the role of matchmaker between friends.

Rina definitely noticed his response.

“Thank you,” he replied as he opened up the packet, “I know your anger was coming from a protective place. I don’t fault you for it. Besides, you and I can happily agree on one thing…”

“What’s that?”

Gojo smirked, “she’s too good for me…”

Rina swallowed hard, mainly because of how sincere that statement actually sounded.

“I care about her…”

Gojo hummed to himself, taking a bite of the sweet snack. “And you think I don’t?”

“Can I be honest?”

“ Please. ”

“I am not questioning your care for her, I am questioning what your intentions are. I won’t apologize for not trusting you.  You promised me after she broke up with Haru that you wouldn’t make a move on her but here we are now…”

“I kept my promise.”

“You found a loophole…”

“It’s been three years…she’s allowed to move on.”

“Yes she is…”

“You know, I was surprised by how angry you got at her for keeping us a secret, especially since we both know that there are plenty of things you’re hiding from her right now. Then I started thinking that it wasn’t the secret that was bothering you, you just don’t want her moving on with me…”

Rina averted her gaze, completely surprised by how easily Gojo read her.

“Like I said, I don’t trust you…”

He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the counter, “What did Haru tell you exactly?”

“Why are you asking?”

“I just want to know if you’re still adamant on convincing yourself that I am the bad guy or if you would like to know what actually happened between us…”

*** 

CHAPTER 12 - MUSE

[sup-hoes-its-me]

To Be So Lonely (Gaara x Reader)

A/N: my first ever attempt at a gaara one shot. Essentially, you are permanently disabled due to an accident involving evil jinchuriki gaara, but you never gave up on him. friends to lovers. dramatic confessions. gaara is just so pure and sweet, he deserves all the love and more. perfect baby boy. precious.

ps. this was a very quick write. there may be mistakes, idk. just hopefully someone enjoys.

Word count: 3600 (soo short lmao)

The pair of them walked the aisles of the bakery. He adored how her eyes grew wide when they landed on a particularly shiny loaf of bread or a decadent chocolate cake that she couldn’t help but gush over. Today, after work since it seemed he had a break, he decided he would go with her to the dessert shop she’d been begging him to go visit.

He watched as she hobbled forward on her crutches, leaning some of her weight on walls or tables when she got the chance. He felt genuinely awful. It was his fault she was in that position after all. Nearly ten years ago when she enveloped her in his sand and crushed her leg brutally. He was so lost and hopeless back then, and a mere sparring match was enough to set him off and permanently injure the woman.

He felt like the worst man alive as he watched her walk around, and he followed on soft feet behind her. They were friends. It seemed that even after all he had done, she still cared about him. She walked up to his office the day he became Kazekage, and asked to be his assistant. He couldn’t say no, not with the way she smiled so beautifully at him with those soft lips and sparkling eyes.

Admittedly, he wanted her to be at his side.

She often sat with him in his office when there wasn’t anything too urgent going on, her legs tucked under her and her crutches leant against his desk. She would tell him stories about her day or things that she found funny, and he would listen intently to each word. He adored her voice. It was perfect, the perfect pitch and tone, just enough enthusiasm to blow him away. How she could be so positive when so many things had gone wrong, he wasn’t sure.

He knew that if he asked Naruto, the boy would have the answer for sure. He was so wise with people in that way. After all, Naruto was the reason Gaara was able to change into the man he was today, the man that had Y/N laughing and giggling in the evenings before she went home.

Y/N’s smile was so bright. It practically glowed when she entered the room. He wanted to bottle it up and keep it forever, that is how much he admired her enthusiasm. He couldn’t imagine the pain she went through, and the struggle she goes through daily. He couldn’t imagine the strength she must have to work for him and maintain that attitude that he admired so deeply.

She was so beautiful. He found himself waking up multiple times in the morning with her still on his mind, her eyes and her smile and the way her hair fell around her face. He found himself so lost in the mere thought of the woman, he thought he might be going crazy.

He’d asked his siblings about the situation, on separate occasions, just gauging what two more adjusted people thought of the situation. Each time, they laughed, and told him he simply had a crush on his closest assistant. His sister told him to act on his feelings before she was swept away by some other man from the village. His brother told him she was quite a catch, and he would be lucky if she liked him back. He thought she was only kind to him because he was her boss, essentially. Needless to say, that was a bit rough for Gaara to hear.

He wasn’t sure what he would do if Y/N shared his feelings. She certainly was kind, and the woman he wanted to be with, but he just couldn’t be with her, not after everything he had done. He couldn’t imagine her ever caring for him like that after he took away a huge portion of her mobility. He stole away from her the ability to become a shinobi like she always wanted. He felt like a monster.

There was no way in good conscience, he could accept her affections and burden her with his own. She was too perfect. He wouldn’t ruin her in that way. He couldn’t.

And so he was content just following her around, buying her little goodies here and there to make her happy just one more time before he had to see her off for the night. No doubt, he would dream about her once again tonight, after spending so much time staring into her eyes and hearing her melodic laugh. Sometimes, he found himself looking forward to those nights where she would plague his mind. He could truly be himself in those dreams without any constraint, without an ounce of guilt. He could love her during those nights, and he found himself longing for more and more each day.

She spun around in front of the final glass case in the near empty bakery, and she pointed to some fruit tarts in a little box.

“You want those?”

“Yes, please.”

He pointed them out to the staff, and they bagged them up and slid them across the counter. He got a discount as the Kazekage, and he was more than willing to buy a few things for her. It was the least he could do. Even though he paid her a decent amount for her work, he still felt generous. He liked seeing the way her eyes lit up and her ears perked up with happiness each time he bought her a simple cake or tart. It was so cheap and simple, he felt like he was robbing her. He got so much enjoyment out of seeing her beauty over and over again and all she got was a little dollar dessert.

They walked out of the store, and she sighed, reaching into the bag and taking out the little box. She pulled out the cake and took a quick bite, sighing loudly at the flavor. “Wow, Gaara, this is one of the best ones yet. Try it,” she held out the other side to him.

“No, I’m okay. I’m sure it’s great.”

“Oh, come on.”

He sighed, and took the tart from her hands, taking the tiniest bite from the side opposite of hers. She was right. It was really good. He nodded, his lips curving into a tiny smile as she grinned, giving him a thumbs up. “See, I told you it was really good. I don’t go around picking out crappy sweets.”

“Here, eat the rest. You haven’t had a chance to eat today, have you?” he asked, urging her to take the tart back. She did, and nodded. “You really can’t be doing that, Y/N. It’s not healthy to skip meals like that.”

“I know. I normally don’t but during my lunch break today, I was busy talking to your brother and I lost track of time.”

“So it was Kankuro’s doing? Of course.”

“Oh, jeez. It’s not a big deal. My parents are going to the market today so they’ll no doubt be home with some food for me to eat for dinner. Plus, you got me these awesome tarts for dessert.”

He nodded, a hum leaving his lips. “Still, I’d like if maybe you started eating lunch with me, just so I can make sure you’re getting proper nutrition.”

Her eyes widened, and she began to smile once again. She felt her cheeks begin to heat up from his offer. How could he so casually say something like that? He was never one to really think through the things he said, just saying exactly what was on his mind. “Are you asking me on a lunch date?”

“What?! No-that’s not what I meant,” he blurted out, his own cheeks turning red under her stare. “I just meant it as a friend thing.”

She averted her eyes back down to her dessert, and she took another bite. After giving him a moment of time to cool down, and after she’d swallowed, she replied giddily, knowing it would stir him up once again, “Alright, well, I wouldn’t mind if it was a date thing, just saying.”

He was now nearly as red as his hair, and she burst out laughing. “What?! Y/N, don’t laugh at me!”

“Okay, Kazekage-sama.”

He huffed as he tried to calm down, following as she started off once again to her home. On days like this one, he would walk her home from wherever they had gone, and in turn, he said it was a way for him to see the village. In reality, he had seen the village more than enough time to count, he really just wanted to walk with her home, to feel like he was doing something for her by providing company on the short journey through the streets.

As they approached her home, he knew that this was going to be the end of their outing and he would have to leave her once again. He really enjoyed their time together. It was the only part of the day he looked forward to most of the time, and to see her go always filled his heart with a bit of sadness. It was unreasonable to want anymore time out of her day to himself, but he couldn’t help but want it.

She opened her front door and stepped inside, holding the door open so she could see him standing at the edge of the walkway to her family home. He shifted awkwardly under her stare, one that was absent of a smile and that familiar glimmer in her eye. Things felt serious all the sudden, and it made him nervous.

What had changed all of the sudden? He never expected her next words. They hit him in the chest like a stone, and knocked the air from his chest.

“Gaara, I think I’m in love with you,” Y/N called to the boy standing in her doorway. One outing after another, she found it harder and harder to maintain a neutral guise around him. Y/N really liked him. He was strong. He was a hero. He was a beautifully kind creature whom everyone came to adore.

He stood there in shock, his eyes wide and lips just agape. He wanted her to take back what she’d just proclaimed. He couldn’t accept it. Not when her crutches were right in his view, and her leg was missing right below the knee. He couldn’t handle that confession. Not now, not ever.

It was all his fault.

He turned his head away to the street and sighed, shutting his eyes tightly. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” she asked, fiddling with the bag of groceries in her hands. It took a lot of nerve to confess to him. It takes a lot to go out and profess your love to the Kazekage and the famous Gaara of the sand. He was a celebrity, practically. He wasn’t simply a childhood friend. She was rightfully nervous.

“I’m sorry you feel that way about someone like me.”

“Gaara, stop. Please. What happened, it’s over now. You’ll never be that same person again.”

He grit his teeth, another sigh coming from behind his teeth. “I cannot accept your confession. I’m sorry, but I have to go now. Please, keep this between us, alright?”

It seemed that the end of their rope was near. He had said what he wanted to say, or what he felt needed to be said. He cared for her, he’d cared for her since he could really remember. She was always kind to him, so beautiful and sweet and generous. Y/N was forever forgiving, and he knew that. He was fully aware that she’d forgiven him for what he’d done to her when he was lost in violence all those years ago. He just couldn’t forgive himself. He was forgiving of those who had wronged him, but to give mercy to the person who brutalized the one woman who’d shown him kindness from the beginning, he just couldn’t bear it.

Gaara was a lonely man. He would always be a lonely man, surrounded by people but always just far enough to protect them. He couldn’t let someone like her become close again and risk something else happening. Even if he was non violent now, what’s to say someone else wouldn’t have a grudge against him and target her?

It was all too overwhelming.

“You can’t deny it, Gaara, you love me too,” she called back to him, quiet enough not to disturb the neighbors but loud enough that it rang out in his chest like a gong, echoing there for a minute. She continued softly, “You can’t just pretend there’s nothing between us just because something happened almost a decade ago. You can’t abandon me, not after everything we’ve been through.”

“Y/N, it’s not that easy.”

“It really is that easy. If you care about me, and I care about you, then that’s all that matters. Forget about my leg, please. I’m over it. I’ve grown used to it, so much it’s not a problem,” she explained, “In fact, you treating me like I’m some injured lamb is the real problem. I’m a strong woman. This injury is nothing when it comes to my sheer force of will.”

He felt terrible, really, he felt like every move he made was the wrong one. He felt like he’d travelled down all the wrong paths with this woman, and she still loved him. Despite everything, she loved him without fault. He was her best friend. The friend who stole her leg from her so young. He was beyond conflicted.

His eyes flickered around the street, and she could feel his paranoia. It would be quite scandalous if someone caught them out here talking about something as personal as this. He was the Kazekage after all, whether he was experiencing normal 22 year old emotions or not.

Y/N grabbed his hand and tugged him quickly into her home. Her parents were gone for the day to the shops, so they weren’t there to intervene, not that they would be too pleased to see their daughter with the red haired boy. Yes, they were proud to have him as their Kazekage, standing strong and tall for the nation. But the injuries he had inflicted on their daughter were a bit too severe to ever completely forgive him. They could never give Gaara their blessing, nor did they truly approve of their friendship. Y/N and Gaara knew this. It only caused his guilt to hang heavier in his chest.

She shut the door behind him, and sighed as she leant her shoulder against the wall, a bit of pressure taken off her sole leg and her arms propped up on the sticks.

“Gaara, how do you feel about me? Really?” she asked.

He wanted to say nothing, to just turn away and pretend he hadn’t heard the question. But he knew that wasn’t an option. He would tell her everything. “I enjoy your company, more than I care to admit. You are so beautiful and kind, I always want you around, especially when work gets rough.”

Y/n stood silent as she let him keep going, to get what he was feeling off his chest. There wasn’t really an outlet in his life to get out all these pent up emotions. He could use a shoulder to lean on sometimes, just as much as anyone else.

“You’re right,” he groaned, “I love you.”

A soft breath caught in her chest at his words. It was true that she had a feeling he felt that way for her, but it was a different thing to hear his words reach her ears. His breathy, raspy voice and the exasperation carried in his tone. The way his eyes refused to meet hers he was so afraid. She felt a shiver run up her spine, and she had to take a deep breath to calm herself down. “Then what’s the point in fighting it?”

“It’s wrong. What I did to you, you’ll never be the same again and it’s all my fault. I don’t know if I could bring myself to look at you everyday knowing that I hurt you so badly. Back then, I didn’t even have remorse. I-I…”

“It’s okay! You’ve changed, time and time again, you’ve shown me that you’re not the same man you used to be. You are so brave and caring and considerate. You care about me and all the other villagers. You changed, and I love the man you’ve become.”

“Does that mean you can forgive me for what I’ve done?”

“I would forgive you a thousand times over.”

“Y/N…”

“You’re the man of my dreams. Please, don’t deprive me of that.”

When his eyes met hers, he wanted to melt away in her arms. She really didn’t care about what he had done, she just wanted him for who he worked so hard to become, the man that Naruto pushed him to be. She raised his arms, and found himself walking right into them. Her head hit his shoulder, and he let out a long shaky breath. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too, Gaara. I truly do.”

And when she pressed her lips to his, he found himself falling deeper in love with her. She was so soft and gentle in his arms, against his skin, flush and warm like he’d always imagined. He never really expected himself to find someone, not after all he’d done and the man he made himself out to be. He never imagined the kiss of a person on his lips, or the feeling of someone’s arms wound around his body. He only imagined pain.

Yet, here she was. The most forgiving angel in the entire world.

“Y/N L/N, what the hell is this? Dammit, can’t you do this somewhere else, you foolish girl?” a voice called through the door, and when they peered between the curtains, the sight of her mother and father walking up the path to the front door, grocery bags piled in their arms. Her mother’s face was quite red, a small smile gracing her mouth, while her father was another story. Completely exhausted with everything.

Gaara pulled away quickly, his head ducking down so his eyes only met the floorboards. He was Kazekage, why was he so afraid of some old man and his paper sack full of rice? He wasn’t completely sure. All he knew was that Y/N stood there with that beautiful smile, her cheeks puffing out from embarrassment. “It’s okay. They aren’t angry. You might want to head on back home, though.”

The elderly couple opened the door, and he found himself face to face with her mother who smiled, corners of her eyes crinkling. “It’s about time, you sweet boy.”

Her father roared, feeling himself growing hotter with every second that passed. “About time for what, Rise? This man to come in here and violate our daughter-”

“Shush, dad. It was all me this time,” Y/N piped up from the back, which only fueled the fire.

“Of course! You’ve always been so promiscuous, Y/N. How could I expect any less?” he rolled his eyes. “And about you, Kazekage boy.”

“Be gentle, Tanaka.”

“Instead of hurting my daughter, I expect you to protect her as if your life depended on it, you hear me? I won’t have someone coming into my house and hurting my children,” he demanded, and Gaara could only nod. He had never been in a situation quite as terrifying as this one, he had to admit. He felt like he had been caught in the middle of some heinous act, even if it was only kissing the object of his affections. He was more than embarrassed, he thought he might crumble into a million tiny pieces.

He replied, “Of course. I’d never let anything hurt Y/N, sir.”

“That’s what I thought. Now get out of here. You can see your little girlfriend some other time, she has chores.”

“Dad!”

“Enough.”

Gaara nodded to the family of three before opening the door and walking through the threshold. “Goodbye, Gaara!” As he peered back over his shoulder, he was once again stunned by her smiling face, her small hand waving to him as he shut the door behind him. He felt his heart beating faster as he walked down the street back to the Kazekage’s mansion.

Has life always felt this good? He wasn’t too sure. He felt high, like he was floating above the ground with each footstep. Maybe giving the good life, giving Y/N, a chance, was going to work out in his favor. He could feel happiness creeping up his chest and rumbling through his stomach. His cheeks turned red at the thought of his now girlfriend in her home getting scolded by her father, and he couldn’t help but imagine the next day when she would report to his office to pick up paperwork and maybe he could swipe another kiss.

When he walked into his home, he brushed by his brother whose brows perked up upon seeing his expression. “What’s got you looking so whipped, Gaara?”

“It’s nothing, Kankuro.”

“Y/N, right?”

“Maybe.”

His brother's loud laughter rung out in the empty hall. He patted his brother's back with a firm hand, practically congratulating him for getting a girlfriend. It was strange in that way, thinking about it like that. He now had a girlfriend to hug and hold, to keep tightly clasped in his heart for as long as she would allow.

Life was too good. He slept better that night than he had in a long while. All because of this one person who’d wormed their way so easily into his heart.

[shorkbrian]

Prelude - I need to stop catching sight of poetry on my explore page lol. This is entirely self-indulgent and very specific cause I’m rotting thru life rn and so if u dislike I understand lol. When I was in the hospital this last time it sucked rlly bad and like the awful horny degenerate I was I kept thinking abt Kirishima and soft sweet Sugawara idk lol

Pairing - Death god Kirishima x Reader

Warnings - Suicide, suicide attempt, no smut. Death. Drunk Drivers. Yandere but only a little bit and cause I can’t voluntarily accept love it has to be forced bc I cannot handle the thot of someone who is sane loving me bc there is no freaking way lol

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/5Iy1wdO0tMaHwKnfFYtlel?si=-vqod-W6SHia8ui2Hdl_9g 

Adding this one bc it’s like one of my favorites and I wish god I wish and I hope that this year is better than the last amen lol also there’s nothing more sad to me than someone pleading and begging and crying for the year to treat you nicely like bitch u okay? no. the answer is no.

https://open.spotify.com/track/0xRO7EKgYKVB8zKIoiXMDD?si=HYBaiBzjRGmQwfCHgnTUxA

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“It hurts.” You had told him, as the entity sat at the end of your hospital bed.

He often sank heavily onto the nearest surface, as if his bones ached with the weight of his body. You saw him often during those first few days in the hospital, days spent puking up pills, every move you made monitored, doctors and nurses scolding you about the severity of your actions.

You didn’t think they could see the hulking figure that comforted you.

“I”ve heard that it’s supposed to.” The red god of death would think aloud.

“I don’t want it then.” Tears upon your cheeks, soft, misty. “Take it.”

“Your life?” A nod would affirm his question, but the red god would shake his head. “I am no thief. Not a hunter, simply a gatherer of souls. I won’t take what doesn’t belong to me.”

“Then it’s yours, have my life. A gift, from me to you. Don’t make me live it any longer…..”

His sadness would show in his eyes.

But the soul-crushing hugs that were provided were admittedly a tiny bit nice.

“You’re far too sweet for your own good. I’ll receive your life when the time is right, not before.”

“But I don’t want it!” You sobbed into his shoulder, the god seeming to be your only friend in the world.

Hands stroked along your back, soft shushing sounds as the god attempted to soothe you in the ways he knew how. Soft touches, kind truths. “Many don’t.  But it happens - life happens anyways. All you can do is find the things that make it less painful.”

“That’s not enough, it still hurts. I can’t stand it.” The sobs wracking your body didn’t stop the entity from holding you.

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

——

He’s patient and kind.

Surprising for a god who’s work involves collecting souls as if they were taxes. A job that should be bitter and tiresome, but the entity has infinite softness resting inside of him.

He walks with you, as you get “better“.

You watch him stop to marvel at flowers, to study the way dew drips from trees in little drops, eyes wide and wondering as crows startle from their perches and take off with noisy weeping.

This courtyard is drab and brown, a prison. Safe.

Yet the god of death treats the space gently, with respect. He thanks the old walls for standing, the worn stones beneath your feet. Their service is noted and appreciated. He’s so tender it almost makes you sick.

But you come to realize that he’s simply allowing himself to be vulnerable, to experience the earth and the beings in it.

For as soon as one recognizes vulnerability, which is so different from weakness or tragedy, one experiences a sense of tenderness. Without tenderness, pleasure means nothing. You need only look at the animals to see the truth of that. It is gentleness that distinguishes their playing from the actions they constantly take to ensure their survival.

You ask why he walks with you, why he is so focused on seeing you get “better“.

A soft smile, a meeting of eyes. “There is an end to your pain, sometime and somewhere. It’s most likely not here, not in this place at least-“ and he looks around, at the cold walls, the other sick patients, the staff. All human.

“-It will come. But for now, it’s enough to try and seek it out ourselves.”

You must look more sick than you really are, talking to thin air like that.

——-

Once you return home, the red god writes you letters.

He’s an old soul, an old god. You’re sure if you asked, he’d be able to recount the very first souls he reaped, a man and a woman, sinful and sweet but in love.

The letters help you get out of bed. What new stories or little quips the god has written pique your curiosity, even when you don’t want to move, don’t want to be awake or alive.

He tells you stories about certain souls, how each one is infinitely interesting, how they all interconnect.  How some of them struggle against him, however fruitlessly. But he’s not the one who brought about their death, he’s there to comfort and guide.

Other souls, (“souls like yours” he writes) welcome him, run to his arms like a long lost lover. Their death was terrifying by their own hand, and it hurt. He can’t take away that pain, those memories. The red god says he wishes those souls find peace wherever he must take them afterwards, or at least, some form of contentment.

“The meaning of life is to give life meaning, at least, that’s what seems to be the consensus.” You rip off that part of the letter, hang it on your wall by your bed.  The other letters you keep in your nightstand, content with the knowledge that there are souls out there like you

It’s hard work, creating meaning for yourself.

The red god takes to visiting you between each letter, says he misses you, the way your soul cries. He tells you that he wishes he could help you quiet it, quiet that raging, terrible storm that hurls you about.

You make him cookies - it’s the only way you know how to say thank you. It’s what your mother taught you, so it may not be right, but the god eats them nonetheless. He likes it when you eat with him, feeding you bites from his cookie, wiping chocolate off of your nose, making you laugh with stupid jokes and a mouth stuffed full of cookies.

Even if some of them are too crunchy, or others too soft, all of them imperfect.

Imperfection is the essence of humanity, he tells you, and it’s more fun eating each cookie with the thought that you’re devouring your imperfections, making yourself whole again, filling up the empty spaces in your soul.

——

Eventually, the crawl back to your feet, rise with the unsteadiness of a toddler. You fall frequently, cry often, but you’re able to get up and try again.

Some days you need to bury yourself in sadness, let yourself feel and feel and hurt. Other days are not so bad, but still tinged  with regret and fear and sadness.

The red god is by your side, gives you something to cling to when you waver.

He is always there.

He will be there when you meet your end.

The god is in no hurry.

You question why he wastes his time on you, hours spent reassuring you, talking to you, tucking you in your bed and leaving glasses of water on your nightstand before taking his leave.

Home is a feeling, not a place. Home is with you - that’s what he tells you. You take his breath away, even though he might not even need to breath because he’s the god of death. HIs thoughts muddle and he trips over his feet and can’t help himself from wanting to hold you.

You learn that even gods yearn for home.

He’s capable of feelings and emotions just like any other human. He may be wiser, and older, able to draw from experience and a deep well of wisdom. But he still feels, and feels deeply.

Just as he gives the earth around him such reverence, he extends that same  attitude when he deals with you.

“Everything I see reminds me of you. When I wake and the sun creeps over the mountains, hesitant, it reminds me of the way that you rise - haltingly, yet it happens nonetheless. The flowers in the field that so steadily grow, you’re like ground they take root in, soft and unstable yet still tenable with the potential for growth. I don’t know, I haven’t exactly held such closeness with a human-“

He trails off, but you think you understand.

Maybe you don’t. It’s hard to relate to a god.

——

A confession occurs, and you’re surprised to learn that the blood-red god of death is in love.

“What did my hands do before they held yours? What did my heart do without all of this love? I can’t hold enough of you, I carry such love for you in my heart.”

With a frail, hopeless human nonetheless.

You don’t know what to tell him, how to explain that you can barely take care of yourself right now, meet your own needs.

But the red god seems to know, seems to understand the way your breath hitches and your eyes widen. One more hug, squeezed tight to his chest while he promises nothing has to change.

Things do change, even if you wish them not to. The world doesn’t bow to your whims, nor the death-god’s.

Innocent touches, his hand on your shoulder, patting your head, offering to rub out the tension in your back after you’ve had a crushing day - they don’t feel so innocent anymore.

The constant survellience still seemed kind, and you knew it was with your best intentions in mind that the god hovered so close, invading every aspect of your life.

But a creeping tendril of unease took hold, and you worried.

Everywhere you turned, he would be there, ready to support you, walk you through anything you wished.

Again, you questioned his commitment. Why? Why you?

“I can’t explain how fond of you I’ve grown. How heat blossomed in my chest as we grew closer. There’s infinite things I wish to say to you, ways for me to express my-my love, but I’ll just let you live.”

He neither killed you nor let you live.

Was it frightening? Maybe. But you had nothing to really live for, lost, searching for your own meaning in a big big world, floundering in an endless sea of sadness and suffering. You weren’t afraid of anything the god could, or would, do to you.

Until you woke up, not knowing where you were, in pitch black.

Arms encircling your shoulders, a soft body beneath your own, holding you tightly, a hand caressing your cheek.

A sun rose, on a strange new land, on the blood-red god gazing at you.

“There seemed to be so much more time for you. But accidents happen, Drivers drink and hearts give out. I was expecting you to grow old, for us to live and love like that, see how you grew through life.”

He looked around this new world, and you vaguely remember what had come before.  A walk along the sidewalk, blaring horns, impact, blood.

“But this will be just as nice. You can stay here with me now. Life can’t cause you anymore pain.”

You don’t feel comforted by those words.  There’s no way for you to know whether this new world would be better than the one you left behind.