#so even if the memories of truly being scared he was going to be beaten to death--something he never actually worried about in childhood

[swagging-back-to]

new ereri dynamic just dropped i cant even put it into words the new perspective i just got

[bibbykins]

Moonlight Reign Ch. 3

A/N: here's a continuation of the pain lol hopefully next update will come quicker and I hope you all enjoy! Be warned here and the series as a whole is pretty heavy emotionally, so heed all warnings and put yourself first! Also as usual shoutout to my lovely beta reader @rapline-heaux who read this forever ago lol ily

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yandere! Mafia! BTS x Reader

Words: 5.0k

Warnings: crime, sensory flashbacks, trauma, unhealthy relationships, yandere behavior, pining, violence, past abuse, past neglect/academic neglect, talk of stitches, wound description, panic attack, acrylic nail slips on a keyboard but doesn't break, brief suicidal thought, lip biting until it bleeds, abandonment by male parental guardian, lots of crying

Silence threaded into the air, making it that much harder to breathe as Jungkook’s hands limply slid from you and back to his sides. The bubble of ignorance you shrouded each other in, now effectively popped as the world was de-muffled as your hands were now clasped in front of you. Tears welled in the back of your eyes, stinging more than usual, and no matter how much you blinked to keep them at bay they just came back. Nothing could shroud the horror that was your reality. 

It’s funny, really, you remember learning about how to create a safe space for your patients in college. You learned how important it was for children to feel safe in development. You studied all the reasons safety was so vital to survival, and yet, you never once felt safe growing up. It was only in this moment you realized you had found your safe place. 

It was only as you watched the weekly dinners, cramming sessions, and mutually intoxicated affection go up in smoke that you realized you had just lost it. Everything you never thought you could have was in flames, and one would think you would be used to the feeling of your life on fire by now, but your throat still burned with the agony of it all, no matter how familiar the taste was on your tongue. 

Hurt flooded your eyes along with tears that Jungkook wanted nothing more than to gently brush away. But he knew shouldn’t, and now more than ever, he couldn’t. He didn’t know how you knew what it meant to be the head of Bangtan, and it was so hard for him to care as your fear and sorrow burnt a hole in his heart in the very space he kept the friendship you both shared. The gaping wound was only furthered by how much it took over his being. You both cared about each other much, much, more than you both let on to one another properly, and it’s only now he’s regretting that with his entire being. 

Finally, he couldn’t bear to look at you anymore, not when he was part of the reason you were looking at him like that. He looked at the beaten faux hardwood of your apartment and could feel an ache when he noticed the scratch from when he helped rearrange your living room furniture. Truly, he’d give anything to go back to that day, or even to when he got here so he could turn off the TV and delay the inevitable. 

He didn’t even get a chance to try and pretend there was no reason to be scared. He wanted so badly to pretend he was a sugar baby who has no idea who he was dating, but he just couldn’t. You both have lied to each other enough to last a lifetime, and he knew it was too late. What you both had has already slipped through his fingers before he even had a chance to try and catch it.

You exhaled a shaky breath, and he looked at you again. There was not even a semblance of hope on his face, and it made the part of you he revived die all over again, “...should probably go, huh?” Your voice was too mangled for Jungkook to hear the first part of what you said, but it certainly didn’t take a genius to figure it out. 

Your form grew blurry as tears clouded his vision, preventing him from committing your feature to his memory properly before it was too late, “You’re right.” He settled solemnly.

Neither yours nor his tears were helped when you each noticed the other was crying. You wanted so badly to be angry at him for lying to you, but you weren’t nearly that much of a hypocrite. You both used the other as an escape from the ugliness of reality. Around Jungkook you were nothing but his friend and vice versa. It was a sweet escape, a nice vacation, but certainly nothing more than that, not anymore. 

You had to figure out if you should disappear or if you could survive with simply moving out of the building. You had phone calls to old contacts to make, you had a million and one things to figure out, a million and one pieces to move and yet you threw your arms around the man in front of you. 

Jungkook wasted no time in holding you to him with an intensity you’d never felt before. No one had ever wanted to keep you this badly, and you didn’t know what to do other than ball your fists around his shirt and silently cry into his shoulder. Your arms tightened around his neck as you counted down the mere minutes before he also figured out who you were. You knew he would leave you, replay each moment leading up to this, and figure out who you were talking to. You just didn’t know what he would do with that information. You didn’t even know for sure how much it meant to him, but it was so hard to focus when his body shook against yours with a silent sob that you echoed with ease. Maybe, just maybe, he'd be gracious enough to look the other way for just a little bit so you could touch the bedroom wall you both shared and pretend it wasn’t there tonight.

You don’t know how long you stayed wrapped up in each other’s arms, soaking in the finality of the embrace, bones heavy with melancholy. You only remembered the look you gave one another, filled to the brim with tears, longing, and an insincere hatred of everything beyond the four walls of your apartment. Slowly, you leaned up and pressed a quivering kiss to his cheek. 

A harsh breath left Jungkook and you could feel his tears on your lips when you pulled away, “Close your eyes.” He pleaded, voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t want you to see me leave you.” The plea for him to not leave was on the tip of your tongue, but you choked it down with another cry.

You nodded, and he granted you one last smile before you let your wet lashes touch each other. Your world was shrouded in darkness and part of you knew it would remain this way long after you opened them to an empty apartment. Still, you squeezed your eyes shut, not too keen on seeing Jungkook leave you either. You swallowed back a cry when he pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your lips as you counted the steps he took to your door. Your body quaked when you could feel him giving you one final look. Your lips struggled to give him one more smile, and then the door closed. 

Your knees hit the floor with no one there to catch you anymore. The shock waves slid up your thigh as you cried into your hands, wondering how many people were going to leave you before you stopped letting them in.

—

“Let go of me, please,” It was the first time you had heard your father say please, and it was one of the last things you would hear him say. Byungyeol looked at you, eyes filled with a mix of pity and sorrow that you couldn’t decipher if it was for you or the empire that lay in ashes. Regardless, it was an order and you weren’t raised to disobey, so you finally relented and released his torso from your arms with a trembling lip and a river that flowed freely from your eyes. The last time you cried in front of him like this had been when your age was in the single digits, but he didn’t patronize you this time– he no longer had any reason to. 

“I can’t… You can’t… Please, stay with me.” You begged, very becoming of the heir to nothing as you clung to the last person who could prove you were even alive before today, “I’m so scared of being alone-” You sobbed into your hands as you both sat in a car outside of a restaurant owned by a family friend. You had nothing but a backpack with cash and two days worth of clothing, but your biggest fear was leaving this car. 

“Daughter.” His voice commanded, and you straightened up. You looked at him, eyes bleary and wide, still a puppet waiting for orders. He regarded you with a sharp glare, “We do not show fear.” His tone was finite, it alway was. He always spoke in simple commands, because even now, he didn’t expect you to say anything in response.

However, you sniffled, “I am scared.” You admitted, the closest you’d gotten to defiance in over a decade, “I can’t do this alone.” 

“And yet, you will.” His voice was the same amount of cold it had always been, but it burned you nonetheless, “You must.” Something in his voice tapered off that made you look at him a little closer. He looked so… old. You could see the years in his eyes and in the deep rivets that framed his frown, and it made something in your chest twist. 

“Should’ve left me with them, huh?” You asked, and he looked at you with confusion, “Should’ve never taken me in, I bet?” You tried to ask again, but he couldn’t understand you. It was often hard to understand if you were asking if that’s how he felt or if you were admitting that’s how you felt. You were never taught how to make it clear, after all. No one ever cared for your words. 

Instead of prying or correcting you, he shook his head. His hand on your head quieted you. “I love you,” He whispered, kissing the top of your head, and the notion made your body freeze. The feeling was foreign, and the action was something that was usually reserved for holidays, “I rarely ever say it, but know that I do, my daughter,” He said softly, but he opened your door all the same, not wanting to entertain this goodbye for any longer, “We will see each other again, I promise, give me three years and we’ll be together again, a normal family.” 

—

You knew now it had all been nothing but a lie to get you out of the car so he could watch you grow smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror until you dissolved into nothing but a memory. You didn't think your father was even really capable of love in the first place. You’d give anything at the moment to be that cold, but you could certainly fake it. You let in a shaky breath as you looked to your fingertips, your ring one brushing along the scratch on the floor you were not looking forward to letting your security deposit go to. Brushing away the tears away from the streaks that have undoubtedly dried on already, you took one last moment to be upset, to be human, before you stood to pick up your phone. 

The line only rang once before it clicked, “Thank you for calling The Rose Palace, how can I help you?” A sweet feminine voice hardly touched with the age she was filled your ears.

“Eunhwa?” You breathed, wanting more than anything to feel her maternal embrace but settling for the concern in her voice.

“Y/n? Is everything okay?” Your eyes fluttered closed when your one last tie to your previous life spoke.

“No.” Your answer was far too honest, but you grew so sick of lying today, “I, uh, need you to tell me how fucked I am.” You sniffled, pressing your eyes shut so you would stop looking at that damn scratch on the floor.

—

Jungkook was thankful when he found his apartment empty as he slid his back down the door, slumping against it on the floor defeatedly. His head hung low as he rested his arms on his knees. He shook his head, wanting more than anything to wake up from this nightmare already. 

Every moment with you this morning circled in his mind like a broken record. It was torturous, but it was all he could do to face the reality of the situation. If he couldn’t keep you in his life, he had to at least figure out why. Had Bangtan done something to hurt you? Or had they hurt your family somehow? Did you even have any family for them to hurt? Fuck, where did it all go wrong?

He got himself stuck in this loop of questioning for an indeterminate amount of time as he ran through every millisecond of his time with you today. Every time he circled back, he always got stuck on that phone call. That phone call was the catalyst of the ruin he was in the throes of right now and something about it just… didn’t sit right with him. How often did coworkers call you for it to make sense? Sure, you could’ve lied, he’d hardly be in a place to judge, but then who else could it have been? 

Suddenly keeping as much of yourselves private from each other felt like a mistake. Now that the people you both became in the presence of one another have effectively died, he’s left with nothing to do but cling to the you he never got to know. It’s an addiction, really. He should just be mourning the civillian distraction of his real life, but he knew you were so much more than a distraction, it’s just the first time he’s really feeling it. He couldn’t let you go, and he refused to even if he had the ability. He needed to figure out why it all went up in flames before he even considered mourning. 

—

“I won’t lie to you, darling, but I will ask, do you want the good news or bad news first?” Eunhwa finally spoke after listening intently to your panicked word vomit.

You blew out a shallow sigh, “Bad news.” It would be pretty difficult for your day to get any worse at this point. 

“Right.” Your former nanny had a nostalgic lilt to her voice before speaking, “Since the capture of your uncle and with the anniversary week in full swing, it would be pretty difficult to find someone in the underground willing to help you… in the way you may need help.” She spoke delicately, “The whispers suggest Bangtan isn’t going to stop with your uncle, and the whereabouts of your father and even you are… well, high ticket items, if you understand what I mean.” 

“Yeah.” You struggled out. You knew all too well what she meant. In a world where the most important currency is power, almost anything was for sale in the Underworld’s market, especially information. You knew firsthand there were few things people wouldn’t do to get in the good graces of the syndicate in power, and you were more thankful than ever that the only active tie to your life before wouldn’t sell you out. Not that she would ever need to. Eunhwa was and always has been a well-respected figure in the underground, and she’s mastered the rare skill of neutrality while maintaining respect. 

“And unless you have your father’s whereabouts to offer, it wouldn’t be wise to voluntarily come forward.” Or else they’d kill you on the spot. She spared you the detail, but you understood what she meant, “Good news is, after all of the mayhem of anniversary week cools down in a few weeks, we’d most likely be able to find someone to help.” Her weak attempt at trying to sound joyful was comforting regardless of how not effective it was on you, “Plus, Jungkook may not even add two and two together before then. I doubt he would be too keen on putting his best friend to death.” 

“Except I’m no longer his best friend.” Your voice cracked with your heart, and you couldn't help that pitiful laugh that left you at how childish you sounded, “So I’m not sure if that would help me.” 

Eunhwa sighs, and you can hear the pity in it. It should make you sick, but this was your last human connection in your personal life, so any care towards you was welcome right now, “Feelings don’t just go away the moment they should, you know that.” She softly chided, “We’ve all loved people for longer than we should’ve, and that might be the fact of life that’ll buy you the time you need.” 

You hummed, not able to say much as her words soaked into your wet cheeks. You loved your father for much longer than you cared to and with Jungkook… Well, the pain would be one you were sure you’d feel for ages.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” She said, her voice going up an octave now that the logistics were out of the way, “Right now, just keep your head down and live your life like normal, okay?” 

You hummed again, defeated, “What if I just packed a bag and left?” You mused, looking out the window. You knew why that wasn’t an option. There was no such thing as leaving the underground, especially not on your own. Not with the trail of bodies you’d have to leave behind. All it took was one call, and it would shatter you completely. How would you pay for anything? You were only given enough of a payout for school, everything else was given up. You’d be caught before you even made it to the airport or snuck onto a ship.

“You know better.” Eunhwa breathed, “You would be calling even more attention to yourself, and that would piss Jungkook off and tip him off to who you are at the same time.” You nodded. She always had a point. The fact was that Jungkook didn’t yet know who you were, but you feared it was only a matter of time, “I’ll call you when it’s time.” Was all she said before the line clicked. You almost laughed at the fact that before Jungkook, you were convinced your interactions with Eunhwa was the highest form of affection. Not that she didn’t care about you, it’s just the world she knew was one of keeping those she could love at an arm’s length. It was safest that way, and no one, not even you, was worth jeopardizing her safety. You couldn’t blame her for that, and you could only hope Jungkook would feel the same if he did find out about who you were. 

Even more, you hoped you were long gone before the day came.

—

“I hear you, Sohee, I do, but you cannot just punch at full force everytime you get upset.” You looked at the 16-year-old as you tossed her ice, which she caught with ease and a pout in your direction. Kang Sohee was someone you’d consider a regular in your office. She was a bright student with poor emotional regulation– like most high school students already had– add that to the pressure of being in the top percentile in the nation, meant she was routinely in for her ibuprofen or a pack of ice. 

“Would you rather I hit people?” She challenged but shrank when you gave her an exasperated look as you sat at your desk to type up the incident.

“Raise the bar, kid.” You sighed, “I’d rather you take those deep breaths we’ve rehearsed or punch a pillow or a folded hoodie like we’ve also rehearsed.” You gave her a pointed look, “I don’t want you to break your hand or split your knuckles to the point of needing stitches.” She winced at the thought and you nodded, “Exactly, it would be gruesome and only make you more upset in the end.”

She sighed, nodding, “It’s just…” She trailed off, and you nodded empathetically even though you had no idea what going to high school was like, from what you could tell it was no different than any other cliquey group with a hierarchy. There was significantly less bloodshed, which you were thankful for. 

“I know.” You sighed, “Exams are coming, and emotions are running high.” She nodded at this, “And I’m glad you’re allowing yourself to feel those emotions, I just want you to express them in a way that doesn’t get you or anyone else hurt.” 

She nodded once again, but snorted, “Okay, school counselor.” You sent her another glare as you paused your typing, making her smile. 

Even though you rolled your eyes, you were just glad she was feeling better. These kids had a million different stressors that landed them in your office and led you to need to provide some kind of emotional support. You never figured yourself as good with children, but the students liked you well enough, so you figured you were doing something right. Maybe all that therapy you did during college came in handy, just not in the way your therapist might have thought. 

“You have any significant others, Nurse L/n?” Sohee asked, making your typing cease. 

Your eyes bulged as you blinked at her, “Now how did we get here?” You asked, making her giggle. Truthfully, you should’ve been used it by now. These kids rarely had any sense of decorum or minding intrusive questions.

“So no?” She tittered, chipping at your flimsy dignity a bit. 

You snorted, “How mean, but no, Ms. Nosey, I am not… involved with anyone.” Jungkook’s face flashed in your mind for a reason you couldn’t pinpoint nor wanted to entertain. Especially not now. He was a friend and nothing more. Keyword: was.

Sohee thought for a moment before speaking again, a true rarity for her, “Well, Mr. Kang totally has a crush on you.” She blurted, and your fingers tripped along the keys, making your nail sink in the space between two of them.

“Sohee!” You gasped, erasing the series of semicolons that populated the page, “Wh- I-” You took a moment to breathe, “Mr. Kang does not-”

“Well, thanks for the icepack!” She called as she slipped out the door, leaving you with your mouth agape, “Oh, hi Mr. Kang!” She sang loudly, making your chest seize. 

In walked Changhyun Kang, the history department head and advanced history teacher with a smile on his almost unnervingly handsome face. Living in the city on your own as you navigated adulthood came with many culture shocks, but one of them were how pretty some of the people you came across, Changhyun being one of them. He was nice though, because of course he was, and he came in every day to steal some ice for his mid-day coffee. He could very well go to the cafeteria for some, but your office was closer– barely. Regardless, you were in no state to pry into why he insisted on coming to your office. Jungkook had done his best to give you a rundown on how to talk to your fellow coworkers, but you elected to only use that advice when absolutely necessary. Now you couldn’t help but wonder how he even knew to coach you on that. 

Changhyun’s eyes darted to the door, giving you a questioning brow, “Sohee is awfully chipper today.” He observed, “Especially for a Monday.” He chuckled. You never understood the fixation with announcing the days of the week among your coworkers, but you played along nonetheless. Right now, it just served as a reminder that you had a mere two days before anniversary week would reach its crescendo. 

You sighed, “That she is.” You simply left it at that before changing the subject, “Thank you for reminding me it is nearly my lunch time.” You chuckled, continuing to type up the report. 

He nodded, thinking for a moment, “Are you ever able to take your lunch early?” He asked curiously, before moving to get some ice.

You didn’t look up from your screen as you spoke, “Well, sure, I guess I just keep my usual time for the sake of routine.” You responded thoughtlessly. 

“I see.” He spoke and the typing off your keyboard suddenly sounded way too loud. 

You gulped, not sure how to fill the sudden awkward tension, “Why?” You asked, insistent on looking at your computer still. 

“W-Well, I was just thinking maybe we could have lunch tomorrow or something?” He rushed out, and you paused, blinking for a moment. The urge to overthink the invitation was strong, especially since you weren’t sure how long you were even going to be here with everything else in your life going on. However, that was all the more reason it didn’t matter. Plus, who’s to say he was intending anything other than friendship. Changhyun was a good-looking guy, so it wouldn’t make much sense for him to be so bashful when asking for a date– not that you would even think to count an in-work lunch as a date in the first place. Obviously you were overthinking the situation anyways and for a bit too long as he continued, “I mean I bring my lunch, and you bring yours, and I come in here anyways, so we could just eat in here? –But if you prefer not–”

“Sure.” You turned to smile at him, “I could use the company.” You did your best to brighten your smile, and he returned it tenfold, “Maybe then the students will stop asking me if I have friends.” You tried to joke lightly, and surely Jungkook would be proud of you as Changhyun let out a hearty laugh. 

“Same here.” He chuckled, but it did little to simmer the sting of Jungkook on your mind. Just before your coworker could notice your smile fall, you phone started vibrating. You looked down at it with a frown, “Well, I’ll let you get that. See you!” He gave a polite wave that you mirrored just as Jungkook told you to do. 

Changhyun was kind enough to close your office door, which you were thankful for as you picked up the phone, too nervous to check the caller ID, “Hello?” 

“Was it Byungjoo?” Your blood ran cold as Jungkook’s voice sliced through the receiver. 

You’d seldom heard him sound like this before, but you can hardly register his tone when the name he uttered slices through your skin. 

“Wh-What are you–” You tried to say something, but Jungkook couldn’t bear to hear you try to lie anymore. 

“Who you saw at the fight. It was Byungjoo, wasn’t it?” He demanded, but something about his voice sounded… off. Like the way it would sound during finals week when he’d join your marathon studying. Has he… been up all night? Or longer? It’s Monday now and you both ended things Saturday morning. 

Suddenly, Byungjoo fades from your mind and you’re just a friend again, “Jungkook, have you… slept?” You asked, and flinched at the sound of his sharp exhale, letting it sink in that he’d no longer be your solace from your past. 

“Answer my question.” He demanded, but you pressed your lips together. You can’t answer his question, so that left you with one choice.

“I don’t know who–”

“Aren’t we done lying to each other?” He snapped, making your eyes widen, “Here, I’ll go first: I’ve watched every fucking frame of the crowd footage of the fight and cross-referenced them with every teacher in the goddamn city, and the only one’s that were the only ones that were in that footage for even a second hadn’t called out of work that day.” 

It was like the air knocked out of you. Why? How? It didn’t make sense. What the fuck did Jungkook do for work? Is Namjoon more than just a boyfriend? The thought was too much to bear, “Please, it’s– it’s–” You had to take a semi-stabalizing breath, “Don’t do this.” You whispered. 

“I wish I didn’t need to.” He spit, “But I can’t fucking do this without you–”

“Yes, you can–” You cut him off desperately despite how much you wanted to agree. He had no choice. Neither of you did. “Well then I don’t fucking want to!” He yelled, making your throat nearly close, “Look, you don’t have to worry about Byungjoo anymore–”

“It’s not Byungjoo I’m worried about.” You spoke honestly, not wanting to hear about your uncle’s fate any further,  “It’s… not safe for me to be around you, Kook.” You admitted and it felt like pouring hot wax down your throat.

There were a few beats of agonizing silence before he spoke again, “I can make it safe for you.” 

You shook your head before sighing, “You can’t.” The crack in your voice mirrored your resolve. It would be so easy to just say the full truth, but you let your mouth close, hoping it would stau that way, “This is… it’s bigger than just you, okay?” 

“No.” He deadpanned, and you sighed,  “No, not okay. This… nothing is too big for me…” He all but promises before adding, “...not when it comes to you.” 

Your heart ached in your chest. How many times had anyone deemed you worth much beyonf what you could give them? And would anyone else do it in the future? Jungkook was all you had and how much that meant to you teared you apart as you spoke, “It’s not worth–”

“Yes, you are.” Was all he seethed before hanging up.

You were stuck there for a moment, frozen with your phone to your ear. Had you not seen the call log yourself, you could’ve convinced yourself that whole thing was just a horrible nightmare. You wished it had been. The last thing you needed was Jungkook to tear open the wounds that haven’t even begun to heal properly and incidentally signing your death certificate. Then again, maybe his tune would change once he found out who you were. You weren’t some unsullied reprieve from his life in the Underworld, and maybe once he realized that, he’d turn his back on you. He’d realize you weren’t worth much at all. Just like everyone eventually does. 

Bitterness filled your mouth and it’s only then you realized you gnawed on the skin of your lips for too long. You huffed out, opening your compact mirror to asses the damage only to find one small red sliver. You placed a small piece of tissue on the oozing blood and put on your mask for the rest of the day. 

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

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Masterlist

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Seven Songs of Suffering: Control

I'm bigger than my body / I'm colder than this home / I'm meaner than my demons / I'm bigger than these bones And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me" / I can't help this awful energy / Goddamn right, you should be scared of me / Who is in control? - Halsey

Event Masterpost | Image Source

Summary: Karl Heisenberg struggles to remember who he truly is while transforming. I'm placing this somewhere in his past, before Ethan comes to the village. Maybe when he's in his early 20s. It's one of many fights he had with Mother Miranda.

CW: hurt/no-comfort, sensations of being beaten up in a mutated metal body, emotional repression, identity confusion, parent-child abuse kind of? (she's not really his mother but pretends to be so I'm tagging it)

It’s not that it hurts to transform. This is the way that his twisted body functions – it’s supposed to happen. It’s more complicated than pain. It’s that unsettling feeling, of the Cadau joining him with something that is not himself. Something enormous and abyssal that wants to swallow his mind and consume his body. The megamycete. It’s unsettling because he wants it, he craves it, he can’t stop. It corrupts even his desires until he can’t tell who he is.

It’s physical too. Something cold and unfeeling becoming a part of himself. The icy metal, a mere conductor coursing with dark energy. He can feel every scrap of aluminum, their internal filaments tingling like nerves. He’s bigger than his body. But never big enough. He needs more. More! He’s not safe yet. He’s not free yet. She still has him.

“Calm yourself, Heisenberg. You’re having a tantrum.”

“No! NO!!!! I will never let go of my hatred!!!” His voice vibrates through copper pipes pressed against his throat and steel shavings dancing like fireflies in the air, coming out magnified and strangled at the same time. This indignation is who he is, this is his last tie to his true self. He won’t accept the invasion that grips his every cell. NEVER. He will HATE.

Or is…or is that the Cadou? Is it his desire to lay down and be loved that is actually him? To please someone? A flash of a near-eradicated memory, hugging his mother’s calf as a toddler. His mother, his real mother, not Mother Miranda. The longing to please, to make her happy… Which part of him is real? Who is he?

NO! Miranda wants him to remember that!! Miranda wants him to fawn over her like that!!! He thrashes towards her, bringing down enormous metal fists – too late. She’s already gone again.

“I don’t appreciate been struck at by my son, Heisenberg. It seems you need a reminder that I am in charge of this household.”

Black wings, a storm of roots and talons. Dark branches engulf him, a briar twice the size of his own massive form. He can’t even see what’s happening.

She slams him into the ground and he shatters. The body mass of ten whole people is twisted and melted and pulverized and he can’t even feel it through the rage. He’s screaming so much. He’s screaming so he won’t cry. He’s strong. He’s brave. He’s better than her. Hold onto that. No pain. No wanting to be held. No longing for acceptance.

He’s laying on his back, the shell around him utterly broken and Miranda pouring rain over his fragile human form. But he still doesn’t let himself cry. Little does Miranda know how she’s courting her own downfall. He’ll get stronger. Even his real mother was useless. She was too weak to protect him. No one will ever protect him so he will have to protect himself. He doesn’t want a family, no. He doesn’t want to be there for anyone ever again.

Because no one has ever been there for him.

[egg-emperor]

In a scenario in which Eggman has total power over Sonic, would Eggman prefer torturing Sonic as long as possible before ending it, or would he want to kill him as soon as possible and move on?

In the games whether Eggman wants Sonic's defeat to be drawn out with torture or just wants him dead on the spot actually varies

When Sonic is actively trying to ruin one of his plans and defeat him, Eggman will immediately be out for blood and want him dead as fast as possible, and will violently try to kill him. His threats aren't empty and he really is attempting to go in for the kill during his battles and makes it very clear with how he yells for him to die and says he's going to crush/burn/shred/kill/bury him

But if he has Sonic in his clutches and he's not actively able to fight and stop him, he'll keep him around and torture him and won't kill him until he completes his empire, so he can rub it in his face when he's beaten down from torture as one last crush to his spirit and then finally kill him. We learn this to be his plan when he held him captive as his prisoner for six months in Forces

So he can genuinely desire both, it just depends on the circumstances. His dream scenario is to draw it out with torture, prove his superiority by building his empire and boasting it to him and then kill him but when his plan is under active threat/he's riled up and furious in battle, everything else goes out the window and he wants Sonic dead and goes in for the immediate kill

He'd be very happy if he succeeded in killing him there and then, even if he wishes he could've made him suffer for longer and showed him his empire. But if he has the chance to draw it out and truly make Sonic feel defeated by proving his superiority in beating him down, building his empire and boasting it before finishing him off for good, he'll absolutely take it and prefer it!

It'd likely make his satisfaction greater and last much longer as long after his death he can keep boasting how he subjected him to the horrors of torture, the humiliation of defeat like he made him feel thousands of times before as the tables finally turned, and use it as proof of his power to scare others into submission, knowing he could even their hero to his knees and make him suffer greatly

He could still do that if he were to kill him in battle instead but I'm sure there's so much more pride and fulfillment in making sure he really gets to rub in his defeat and make him suffer for all the stress, anger,vand failure he caused for him for so long. In not just being sure to truly prove his superiority to everyone else in it but also Sonic himself, to show he could do it and he was always right to say so

He'd be very happy to make plenty of good last memories with him to make up for all those years of negative ones before throwing him away for good heheh >:)

[minty-mumbles]

One Word

A compilation of the ask game I played last night. People sent me a one word prompt, and I wrote a three sentence fic based on the word. It was really fun, so I think I'll definitely do it again sometime!

(Read on AO3)

~~~

Cake 

Wild has never experienced love in their short memory, but they think this might be what love feels like.

"I know the cooks in the castle are really good, Wild, but it is only cake,"  Warriors says, looking slightly concerned about the adoring look in Wild's eyes as he stares at the slice of cake he'd just taken a bite out of.

"It's not only cake, and you need to escort me to the kitchens right now so I can interrogate the chefs about this recipe," Wild said, griping Warriors' arm tightly, and dragging the reluctant captain away.

Reppel

Legend sighed, not daring to look down, and cursed the fact that this cliff was between them and the town they needed to get to. All his muscles were shaking, and his heart pounded as he repelled down the cliff face towards the rest of the group waiting for him at the bottom.

He couldn't let the other heroes know or they would never let him live down the fact that he- the veteran, the one with the most experience, who has faced countless terrifying monsters- was scared of heights.

Scarlet

There was very little color in Hyrule's era, especially when compared to eras such as Wild's, which was bursting with colorful animals and wildflowers in every hue available.

The color he was intimately familiar with, though, was the bright scarlet of blood.

It had always been a bad sign to see that familiar red, but after he realized what exactly the monsters hunting him wanted his blood for, his dislike of the color quickly turned into revulsion.

Knitted

The knitted sweater was a garish shade of green, with yellow yarn- which clashed with the green- forming shaky decorations around its cuffs and collar.

It was a truly hideous thing, but it would certainly explain what Wind had been working on over the last few weeks which he had refused to allow Warriors to see.

"I love it, Wind, thank you."

Survivor

They were all survivors, everyone one of them. He looked around the camp, taking in the friendly chatter and happy ambiance, and he desperately wished that they could have this experience while not on a deadly quest that could go sour at any moment.

They were all survivors, but he wished they didn't have to be.

Sneeze

"Achoo!"

Legend didn't say anything, letting Hyrule keep his pride, but internally, he melted at the adorable sound. Who knew the traveler would have such a cute-sounding sneeze?

Puppy

"Awwww, such a cute puppy," Wild coos. He snickered internally at the dark look Wolfie was giving him, and knew he was going to be in for it later. But for now, he just enjoyed being able to tease the other hero without any immediate consequences.

Raunchy

Time smiled as he listened to the loud raunchy laughter coming from downstairs. The other heroes had promised to keep it quiet when he had decided to retire early, but it would seem they weren't keeping that promise. Time wasn't feeling inclined to go down and tell them to be quiet, though- his boys deserved the chance to relax.

Beaten

"I can't believe Twilight's beaten me in every single game of chess we've played!" Warriors moaned in shame, slumping down defeatedly in a seat next to Time. Time laughed, and only patted him on the shoulder in consolation

 Drool

Warriors drools in his sleep.

Normally Legend would be gleeful at finding out this information, but his insomnia made it impossible for him to be excited about anything after two days of no rest. He turned to gaze away from the sleeping captain, and shut his eyes, hoping desperately for sleep.

Vivid

"I can remember the sound of my sword going into his head so vividly, and I just can't stop thinking about it! The memory keeps coming back even if I try to forget."

Warriors could do nothing but attempt to soothe the crying sailor, but he knew from experience that that memory would stick with Wind for the rest of his life.

Trace

The scent was faint but Twilight put his snout to the ground, determined to follow the tracks. He would not lose this scent trail. The slightest trace of the scent of sea salt hanging in the air was their only hope of ever seeing the sailor again 

Guffaw

The knight guffawed, slapping Warriors on the back playfully.

To the untrained eye, Warriors would look like he was having a fun time bantering with his fellow knight, but to Legend, the tenseness of the captain’s back told a different story. Legend sighed, hailing himself up and getting ready to go save his fellow hero from unwanted social encounters.

Soap

Time and Malon’s bath house was perfectly warm and quiet, and Sky could feel himself relaxing already. The other heroes would poke fun at him for falling asleep here, but in truth, he was exhausted. He’d already cleaned up with the soap Mrs. Malon had provided, so he felt no shame in slipping off into dreamland.

Whoops

Wild grinned sheepishly, “Whoops!”

Time stared incredulously at the carnage in front of him. His kitchen, instructed into the Wild’s hands because Time thought the resident cook wouldn’t make a mess, was in absolute shambles.

Trance

The flames flickered in front of Wild, and he stared at them, as if in a trance. He was exhausted, but he couldn’t afford to sleep now, not while being separated from the other heroes, with some mysterious force hunting for him.

He needed to stay awake, or who knows what would happen when he was vulnerable.

Thaw

Legend sighed contentedly, leaning against the open doorway of his house. The spring thaw had come and gone while he was gone, and now was the perfect time to air out the dusty rooms in his house.

With a mug of warm tea cradled in his hand, he enjoyed the rare moment of peace.

Parmesan 

“We’re out of Parmesan cheese,” Wild sounded so genuinely upset at that statement that Twilight had to turn around to look at him. “I was gonna make a special recipe tonight but I needed the cheese for it!” Wild’s ears were drooping, and he for all the world looked like a kicked puppy.

“Don’t worry, cub,” Twilight reassured, “We can pick some up in the next town we visit.”

Family

Time was still giddy from the news Malon had given him earlier in the morning as he set out from the ranch with his fellow heroes. On the outside, he was as stern as ever, but on the inside, he was perhaps the happiest he’d ever felt since the day he married Malon.

He couldn’t believe his family, after so long of hoping and praying, would finally be growing by one.

Scream 

A squeal echoes through the forest, making Twilight’s ears perk up. Wild must have caught something for dinner tonight, if the dying scream of an animal was any indication.

He licks his lips subconsciously, already looking forward to Wild’s delicious cooking.

Uneven

The uneven ground made him stumble, which jolted his injured side, but Sky didn’t dare cry out.

He was one of the better-off members of their party, and a cut on his side was nothing compared to the concussion that led to Wind being carried piggyback style by Wild, or the Warriors’ broken arm that they had no way to numb.

When they reached the town Twilight said was nearby, Sky would be able to tend to his wounds, but until then, they had to grit their teeth and power through the pain

[railingsofsorrow]

Broken Promises

[peter parker x reader]

summary: doctor strange casts the spell that will make everyone forget who spiderman is and peter parker loses his footing in life. how could he do anything without the people he loved by his side? how could peter find strength now that you weren’t there? more importantly, can he keep his promise to make you remember him again?

pairing: p.p x fem!reader

w.c: 1.6K

warnings/content: no way home ending (is a trigger as it is, isn’t it?); heartbreak; pain; hurt no comfort; do I need to say more? read at your own risk; canon divergence. 

A/N: I'm back at my spiderboy phase. first of all, this takes months after the memory wipe spell, which means that it's a slightly different no way home timeline.

[loosely inspired by all too well]

[1] [1.2] [2] [3] [4]

❝[...] And I know it's long

gone

And there was nothing

else I could do

And I forget about you

long enough

To forget why I needed to [...]❞

➶ ➷

Peter Parker never thought he would lose you.  

He knew breaking-up was a possibility. But this didn't mean he would lose you truly. You two had a connection that nobody or anything could break apart. Being friends first, then evolving to best friends, helped in building that bridge.  

He just didn't count for the memory wipe spell that would force everyone that ever knew him to forget about him.  

You would forget about him. All the things you did together; all the 3 a.m talks, the patching up his bruises, the looks of understanding across the room, the touches. It would all be erased. It would all be gone.

Because of a mistake he made and now he had to deal with it. For the greater good.  

Sometimes, Peter thinks fuck the greater good.  

When your father told him that you and he would never work out, for example. 

Or when Doctor Strange wanted to send back those people from other universes that needed help, to their eventual doom.  

Or when you confessed to him and he eventually built the courage to be with you without being scared of making you a target because of his alter ego. He was still apprehensive, but he could protect you. He could. 

It was all worth it. He met some great people—his brothers, the other Peters from different universes—ones he would never forget. He hoped they didn't forget him either, wherever they were now. Peter gave second chances because they are possible. And he loved. He loved so much that his heart could burst with the feeling.  

Peter learned that there was no happiness like loving you.  

He vowed to not take it for granted. He promised to not put you in harm's way — even if you did jump on the opportunity of it at any given moment.  

Still, he feels like he failed at everything.  

Or. . . not quite.  

Seeing your smile through the glass window of the donut shop was an indicator of that.  He was almost entering the place where you and your friends had spent hours studying or talking at a table as you waited for MJ to finish her shift.

The snow caused shivers to go down his body — it was cold. Winter arrived so quickly Peter didn’t even realize it. Snowflakes were melting as they fell in his coat.  

Peter didn’t move to enter the shop. Not after he saw you for the first time in months. You love the winter. He thought, watching the differences in you. Your hair was longer, touching below your shoulder. A new piercing in your left eyebrow was another detail that wasn’t there. He noticed the cut right above your brow as well.

When he saw the cut in your eyebrow, his breath got stuck in his throat. “You got hurt,” He whispered, “I'm sorry.” He looked at you with eyes full of tears. Then, a sob came. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

Your hands reached to wipe his tears with a shake of your head, “No. It's barely a scratch, Peter. It wasn't your fault. You're beaten up and you worry about my ordinary cut?” You attempted to make a joke out of the situation. 

He could see it had not been a barely scratch; it became a scar. A thin line above your eyebrow, almost unnoticeable if someone wasn't looking for it specifically. 

He gave you that. 

The dark red fabric you were wearing around your neck made him stop in his tracks and he ended up bumping into someone that was leaving the shop. 

It was with shaky hands around the scrunched piece of paper of rehearsed lines that he felt his heart pinch. 

There you were. Laughing at something a curly-haired boy sitting at your side said, throwing your head back. You were happy. There was joy in your features. No ounce of worry, no lines of fear. Nothing like when you were with him. 

But you still had it. The scarf. An item of his you had insisted that it looked better on you. You weren’t wrong, it had always looked better on you. On every cold day, he’d carry it with him just so he could wrap it loosely around your neck, the way he knew you liked it. You’d give him a smile and intertwine your fingers.  

That did not mean anything, did it? The piece of clothing could mean something entirely distinct to you now. There was no ‘us’ anymore. Peter concluded.

He wondered if you were different from when he knew you. It had only been a few months but he could see change. 

You're okay. His brain said. 

At the same time, his heart screamed. 

You don't miss me.  

You don't need me anymore. 

Oh

Oh, this feeling was worse than any stab in the abdomen he had ever suffered.  

Peter Parker never thought he would lose you. Not like this. Not by you losing all recollection of everything you both have been through. Not by you forgetting that you loved him. That he loved you.  

Loves. 

He loves you, of course, he does. It won't change overnight.  

It won't ever change, he ponders. 

He let out the air he was holding when MJ approached your table and stood in front of you, blocking his sight. His heart clenched when Ned Leeds appeared a few feet away from the entrance, typing away on his phone.  

“You're my best friend, Peter. If you're in trouble then I will help. No matter what you say.”  Ned's voice echoed in his mind. 

MJ heard the bell announcing a new client and walked behind the counter to ask for his order. Peter swallowed hard when your eyes met his and the paper he was holding eventually ripped in two. He glanced down at it, pretending to be surprised when he actually wanted to prevent the tears from rolling down his cheeks.  

Fuck the universe. You destroyed me. I won't destroy them.  

“Sir, are you okay?” MJ's voice took him out of his thoughts.  

Peter looked up, blinking fast and forced out a smile. He could still feel your eyes on him. A tinge of hope igniting against his will. She doesn't remember. It’s better this way. 

“I am- uh, my name is Peter Parker and I. . .” His eyes drifted over to your table again, you were looking at something your friend was showing you on his phone. The friend, however, was staring at him. He looked back at MJ before he could decide whether it was a glare or not. “. . . I would like a coffee.” 

Her brows furrowed but she nodded, telling him she would be right back with his order.  

He sat by the window, with his back to you this time. The feeling of eyes burning on his back did not make him turn around. 

He realized then that he couldn't do that to you. He couldn't take off the smile on your face. That spark in your eyes.  

Peter would have to accept that you were better off without him. All of you were. You were safer and that was what mattered to him.  

“Peter.” You said, the space between the two of you disappearing in your attempt of clinging to him in desperation. “Peter, I don't want you to go.”  

“I'm not going anywhere,” He told you, hands wrapping around your back and squeezing you a bit. You started to sob. Peter felt his heart break.  

You buried your nose in his neck as if you were scared you would never be able to do that again.  

“Please, Peter. I don't want to forget you. I don't want to be without you. There has to be another way.” 

“You won't.” There was certainly in his tone. He would make you remember, no matter what it took. “I'll make you remember me. Hey,” He leaned away to cup your cheeks, smiling sadly with the waterfall in your eyes. “I'll make you remember me, okay? I promise.” 

You sniffled, clutching his hand that was touching your cheek. “You promise?” 

“I promise.” He whispered, kissing your forehead. “I promise I will make you remember me.” 

You nodded, albeit the weight in your chest was still heavy, it was bearable now that he made the promise. Not in all of the years you met peter parker had he broken a promise with you.  

And it wouldn't happen now. 

“I love you,” You repeated at least five times while kissing him. Tears making the kiss salty. He didn't care.  

“I love you.” He said, resting his forehead on yours as your eyes fluttered shut. It was a moment of peace. A minute without chaos. A few seconds of pretending you weren't saying goodbye.

“I promise.” He repeated it gently before leaving your embrace. 

Peter took a last look in your direction before he left the shop with the coffee in hand.  

I'm sorry I broke the promise.  

Your connection would remain. Even if the only one who knew of it and felt it now, was him.  

What Peter didn't see was that you were watching him go with a curious glint in your eyes.

A/N: i suffered a bit ngl.

[yandere-wishes]

MONSTERS

👹 Yandere Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

👹Summary: Monsters aren’t born they're made, but Sukuna stumbles across the rare exception...

👹Warning: dehumanization, mention of gore, blood, slight dub-con mentioned in passing, death, past trauma, and abuse

👹 Edited: By the lovely @tealyjade-libran !

👹 Wordcount: 2,480

👹Alternative Tittle : If Roxanne ( from the Police song) lived in ancient Japan.

👹First Jujutsu kaisen fic! I hope you guys like it, please let me know your thoughts! Likes and reblogs appreciated!

Monsters were made. 

Slowly created as once blazing ideals, withered and died under harsh strokes of reality. Stitched together with broken promises and the ashes of rotting memories. 

Monsters were made

whisked into a role they once dreaded, once feared. Beaten into the role of the villain, the reprobate, the sinner. 

If anyone ever asked Sukuna when was the exact moment he turned his back on the laws of "good" and "evil", shedding his human skin to regrow a pelt of hate and destruction,

He would simply answer, "Never".

Because skin is skin no matter how much it decays. Even if the epidermis turns into a rotting orange shade, littered with eyeballs and teeth that shouldn't grow there.Even if the blood from all those he's slain has finally stained his dermis, tainting it in a permanent crimson that all the waters of Lake Biwa could never wash off. Even if his hypodermis is no longer made of fatty tissue but rather spiritual energy sucked from the atmosphere. It's still skin, the same old skin he was born with.

Sukuna had never shed his skin, he'd only perfected it, enhanced it, molded it into its perfect form, until he was no longer held back by foolish human limitations.

He'd never been "reborn" only recreated; only perfected. 

Spike, talon and teeth covered arms sprouting from oozing, bleeding scars, charred over by begriming infections that burned worse than the strikes he'd endured as a child. Knuckles and bones cracking over and over and over again until they grew as solid as the rocks that were thrown at him when he was all too little to understand the malice behind the insults and threats. Breaking until they could break no more, until they'd become strong enough to split a boulder with a mere flick.

There had come a time when he'd given up licking his wounds, leaving them to be kissed by the mold-covered worms who left an urticating sensation he'd soon come to associate with victory. Rotting flesh growing covered in thick layers of black tar tattoos that hid every cut he'd endured when he'd once been too weak. 

Monsters were created from quarter truths buried neck-deep in fables that snipped like red-eyed scorpions. 

Until the blood dancing through their veins was as black as the void they now called home. 

Sukuna knew the exact moment he realized he was a monster. The day he realized he liked the crunch of skulls beneath his feet, the pitiful spark in mortified eyes staring at the heavens for a scrap of mercy. Mangled mouths barely held together by fractured jaw bones, uttering prayers and pleas that died in the scorching air. 

Sukuna knew he was an abnormality, patched together by broken heirlooms and shattered family traditions. Sitting on a throne made from skulls of those who thought they could ever kill him. 

You can't kill a monster, for you can not kill that which was never born. 

You can't slay something made from good intentions with malevolent methods, something so vile that it might actually be pure. At the end of the day, no monster really admits that it is a monster, a nightmare that should have never existed. 

Yet...

Tattered hearts and cruel orbs are never quite enough. No monster is complete until they dive off that last edge, plummet into the sea of nothingness, and finally, finally break their souls on the spiked soil. Monsters, spirits, curses any malicious being that had been mended together like a half-done ragdoll was not complete until they truly let go. Until they erased all the former humanity that they had been born with. Until their eyes reflected nothing, no emotions, no malice, no want, no need. Just the absolute emptiness. 

The void in all its glory.

that was the symbol, the true markings of a real monstrosity. The void that took over their existence, that had replaced every inch of their former self. Only then could it be said that you were above all other beings, the true perfection of this world. 

There are worse things created than monsters, things that are made from nothing and everything. Things above "Yin" and "Yang". Things that have no scrap of humanity, monstrosity, or anything in them.

Things that are just empty.

So maybe -just maybe- that's why when Sukuna's rotting orange eyes landed on the epitome of emptiness, a...girl, whose face was sculpted to disreflect emotions and intents. Someone who was the void of darkness itself. The true personification of nothingness. 

His heart -for the first time in countless centuries- began to throb.

a truly dead face swarmed by a sea of buzzing ants, chasing their routine happiness. Smiles of delight and carelessness carved on their aging faces with sunlight knives and the melody of golden coins. The lust for life leaking from every pore of their bodies. 

With every face being a carbon copy of each other it was no wonder yours stood out.

There was a silver chain of attraction, dragging Sukuna towards the village girl. Not love, never love, the king of curses was beyond certain, that neither you nor he could feel such a honey-laced sensation. It was more like....something. Something paranormal, inexpiable. Some magnetic force outside of everything's control. 

It was easy enough to explain why he liked you. Why you stood out from the other insects of this middle-of-nowhere-village. 

You had dark matter for blood and dead seas for brains. 

Your eyes radiated an endless abyss. Making others shy away from your lifeless gaze. Scared to look into the void in fear that it may respond. 

You were a thrown away doll,

A living dead,

A dying star,

You were the daughter of the number zero,

The monster that had no maker nor mother. 

Something not born nor created. 

Just an entity that roamed the earth, with no desire nor hope, no wish nor dream. Not leaving, not dying, just existing in the space between today and tomorrow. 

There'd been no need for pleasantries, for hiding behind ghostly tree branches and frozen windows. There'd been no need to kill or ravage for you. No competition to eliminate, because no one ever came near you. Humans don't like what they can't explain, Sukuna knew that all too well. 

Sukuna watched from a close enough distance to almost touch. Lingering around like a phantom begging to be noticed. Orbs trailing over you, but never approaching. Until one day he'd just stood still. Waited for you to turn your head just a fraction to the left, just to see him in all his menacing terror. To finally notice the clawing, crawling sensation that had been creeping up your spine like a hoard of spiders. 

And when your dead eyes did finally land on him. Sukuna could swear that his breath hitched in his throat for the first time in his seemingly endless life.

You weren't human. Humans didn't have hollow faces or marbles for lips. 

You weren't a curse. Curses didn't lack venom dripping from their souls.

You were something better than a monster. You were the divinity of monstrosity, the void itself. Black holes for eyes, answerless paradoxes for hands, and an endless maze where your torso should have been. 

 Exploding suns danced around you, burning, burning, till they died out, leaving behind no trace that they once lit up the universe. 

The space after the end, that's what you were.

Perfect, to Sukuna you were perfect.

You hadn't run, hadn't screamed, hadn't even bothered to talk. You didn't care about him, couldn't care about him. That's what made him want you, made his mouth salivate with the thought of your flesh between his teeth. 

That night the world stood still, as Sukuna's claws penetrated your flesh like twirling needles. You were as light as a feather. You weighed nothing, were nothing. All so easy to pluck and throw about. You never made a noise when your body collided with the bamboo walls, just letting gravity and Sukuna play a twisted ball game with your lump of a body.

You hadn't protested when he violated you. As his lips bit every inch of your body raw. For some unearthly reason that even the gods couldn't understand, would never want to understand, you had found the Curse's violent actions rather...adoring. Taking every slap and slash with the earnest pride of a small child getting praised for a day of relentless chores. letting the dawn-tinted-haired monster adorn your body in blue and purple jewels. It felt right, in a  pathetically, nauseating, twisted way...it just felt right.

 It was disastrous, sure, but it was right. Like two universes crashing. Destroying each other with every kiss and every bruise. 

But...

For the first time in your meaningless life, you had truly understood what "happiness" felt like. 

For the first time in his endless life, Sukuna had truly understood what "intimacy" felt like.

///

Was it wrong to kiss you? For a fraction of a second Sukuna hesitated, blood tinged lips hovering millimeters away from your own stone-set ones. The moon's cursed rays acting like an unnoticed barrier, keeping two things out of each other's grasp. His lips curled back revealing two rows of knife-like teeth. The last resort, a final hope that you'd run away, that you'd act somewhat normal. The king of curses, the evil among men, didn't mind your lack of regularity. He didn't mind how you leaned into every bitter strike, every painful display of fading affection . He adored how you merely giggled as he slashed open your uncharged skin, creating slits for your blood to spill through, onto his waiting tongue. He admired your lifelessness, the way you radiated death. 

Oh, how you filled him with a startling aftershock every time he touched you. Every time his tongue lapped at your bleeding skin he'd feel the sort of electric shocks that came after the storms had passed. Your body had no shape, it molded to his touch, turning his favorite shades of red, with just a little pressure. 

But sometimes, in fleeting, endless seconds. He wished he had a name for what you two were. You weren't his per se, you could never be his. Being his would indicate that he cared about you, or heck even loved you and that could never be true. The king of curses did not love, nor care. He merely tolerated you; you fascinated him, that's all. 

It had been many moons since he first found you in that no-name village. Months upon months since you'd been by his side. You'd watched as he'd destroyed cities, helped him even. Eyes never shedding a single tear. Mouth never uttering a single protest. 

The two of you had become the best, the King of curses and the Queen of nothingness. With the dying speed of laboring bees, Sukuna had carved himself inside of you. Twisted emptiness into flower-covered destruction. Into molten gold lava. 

Leaving you with wounds that were stuck in a cycle of healing and opening. Until they began to harden like his. Until the need for spilled blood lingered on your tongue like the burn of boiled tea. Until under your nails were coated in a decaying crust of dried blood. Sukuna hadn't turned you into a monster, he'd simply showed you the powers that came with your apathy. With a heart as torn and cold as yours, it was a shame to let it go to waste. 

"You're not half bad," his tone is never approving. It's always laced with a strictness that keeps you nailed into place. His words are oxymorons sounding like praise, but once you peel back the lather layers they're just taunts in disguise. 

You don't answer, words die on your tongue as quickly as they are born. Sukuna can't even remember what your voice sounds like outside of small whispers in heat filled nights. 

 However, to the two of you, things like that didn't matter. Your lack of being even semi-alive and Sukuna's endless abuse had become a norm for the two of you. Where else were a two-faced monster and a lifeless girl going to find love anyway? 

Sukuna was all you had, all you ever had. You'd die for him, kill for him, turn into anything for him. Because he gave you life. 

A purpose to life, made out of raging fires and endless screams. A life fabricated from the pain and suffering of others. That was what the king of curses had given you, all wrapped in a human skin parchment. Maybe that's why all logic withered away the first night he kissed you, maybe from the first second that you sensed his presence you had finally gained a reason to be alive. 

///

Whoever said the end of the world was beautiful? Whoever said the final days would be bright and glowing and pure? 

It's just a blaze of stray flames and red crystal droplets that may or may not be your blood. Funny, Sukuna had always thought that your blood would be as black as the moonless sky, not a mundane red like everyone else's. He'd expected a grander death from you. Some sort of black hole opening to swallow the world whole. Not just another corpse motionless in a pool of their own blood. 

Although he's not one to talk. His own 'death' is lingering on the horizon. Sukuna's head tilts back looking for the flashing jujutsu sorcerers. 

"S-sukun-a..." 

He smirks, fangs sticking out at odd angles. Your voice is sweet, for the first time in forever he'd even dare say it held some semblance of emotion. 

What that emotion is, he doubts he knows or even really cares. He'd long since stopped trying to identify all those "feelings" and their associated names. 

His orange eyes lock with your fading orbs, one last time. No, not the last time, just the final time in this lifetime. He's sure he's going to see you again. In any other life, Sukuna knows he'll be able to recognize you despite whatever flesh suit you'd be wearing. 

"Shh little one," he's halfway gone before he finishes his sentence, leaving you to relish in his memory in your final moments. "We'll see each other once more, someday in another life..."

His four eyes lock on the approaching sorcerers. He finds it humorous how desperate they look. How alive and ready they seem, such a stark contrast to your ever lifeless face and dead eyes, it repulses him. 

"Or maybe in one of the circles of hell." 

The flames encircling his fingers remind him of the heat your body radiated in the dead of night. The crack from bones hum as they meet his knuckles, flash memories of your days wasted together doing nothing and everything. 

The two of you will meet once more, he's sure of it. After all...

Monsters never die. 

How could something that was never even born in the first place, ever die?

[pagetreader]

"Weston said so?" Benjamin asked. "Truly? I think that's the one good thing he's said in his entire life..."

He was insistent on remaining uninhibited by the reality of their situation, and it baffled her. Benjamin, the one who needed plans and contingency plans, and contingency plans for the contingency plans, wasn't at all exasperated about the timing of it all.

"How in the hell are ye so calm about this?" she asked, desperately squeezing his hands. She wanted to tell him that she was scared, that she was terrified that somehow, for whatever reason, something was going to go wrong. The current state of things, after all, was not on their side.

"Kitty, God provides for the birds in the air, and the beasts of the field, and even the trees dotting the earth. Why would our child ever be overlooked? And with you as its mother..."

She could hardly bring herself to argue with that scripture, especially considering it had been one of Lucas' favorites, back when he could remember scripture at least. But where was Lucas now? He was dead and gone. Whatever compliment Ben had in mind to attach to his argument, he'd smartly thought better of it -- knowing full well Kitty didn't like becoming sentimental. Sentimentality often leads to tears -and she detested crying.

"We won't die," he persisted.

"You dinnae know that."

"Everything happens for a reason, and I don't intend to overlook what I've been given. After the year I've endured, do you have any idea what this means to me?"

There was a sharp silence that followed, and Kitty stared downward at the floor, her fists shaking as she fought the urge to slap him again.

"Yer not the only one whose had to endure, Tallman," she answered through clenched teeth.

Benjamin must have felt remorseful for his chosen words, because it was only a moment before he raised her hands to his lips, wordlessly apologizing for his misstep.

While she didn't want to admit it, maybe she was being oversensitive. After all, it was no secret that Ben wanted a family. He'd told her as much while they'd spooned in the orchard after they'd first made love. So why was she so keen on making this a bad thing?

Sinking onto his knees, he ardently nuzzled her stomach, melting her heart and oddly soothing her, pulling her from her reservations. Was Benjamin right? Would they really be able to weather through the winter and bring a child into this world?

Gingerly, Kitty ran her fingers through Ben's hair, glad to know that if she was going to do this with anyone, she would be able to do so with him by her side. Then he looked up at her with tear stains trailing down his cheeks, eyes sparkling through the misty gloss and looking happier than she'd ever seen him.

"Tell me again," he pleaded. "Tell me I'm going to be a father..."

Kitty smiled warmly, heart soaring at the sight of his elation.

"Yer going to be a father, Benjamin," she obliged, "And I pray to God this child has yer hair color because heaven knows they'll be tortured mercilessly for it otherwise."

The number of times she'd been tormented for her wild red curls growing up couldn't be counted. Once, Bobby Downes had cut off her pigtails while sitting behind her in class and she'd beaten him senseless for it.

Another time, Eleanor Standish had dumped a bucket of mud on her head, telling her that the brown shade looked much better on her. For that, she'd held Eleanor down in the mud puddle until she'd nearly drowned her. Fortunately, Lucas had stopped her beforehand.

Despite the terrible memories, Katherine cracked a smile, cradling Benjamin's face and brushing her thumb across his cheek as her eyes watered.

"I've told ye a thousand times how I hate weepin'. Now look what ye've gone and done..."

For so long, Benjamin hadn't dared to dream, hadn't dared to hope for a family, lest the cruelty of life dash said fantasies against the jagged, ever-growing rocks of his slowly hardening heart. But this? This was real -- this was true -- and as he watched the emotions war across Katherine's face, his pulse quickened and he reached for her hands.

“I’ve not bled in months and I convened with Weston to confirm it…I’m four months along,” she whispered.

There was clear exasperation in her voice, though the fond excitement swelled within Benjamin's stomach and he smiled. "Weston said so?" he asked. "Truly? I think that's the one good thing he's said in his entire life..."

Despite the clear glimmer in his eyes, Katherine grew defensive. “Gift? Ben, we’ll sooner freeze or starve to death before I ever reach full term. How can ye possibly be so happy about this?” 

"How can you not?" he challenged. "Kitty, God provides for the birds in the air, and the beasts of the field, and even the trees dotting the earth. Why would our child ever be overlooked? And with you as its mother..." Trailing off, he merely squeezed her hands, all too aware that she wasn't keen on sentiment. "We won't die," he said with more conviction. "Everything happens for a reason, and I don't intend to overlook what I've been given. After the year I've endured, do you have any idea what this means to me?"

Perhaps that had been cruel. Katherine, too, had lost a loved one -- Lucas -- so she was all too aware of the pains of war. Benjamin lost Samuel, but that didn't make his grief special.

Eyes stinging at his misstep, he once more brought her hands to his lips, and with the silent permission shining in her eyes, he slowly sank to his knees and pressed his cheek against her middle. Unbidden, a lone tear trickled down into the corner of his mouth and then the other, his pulse vibrant and alive as he nuzzled into her stomach with a soft, shuddering hitch of breath.

What could he do, Benjamin wondered? What could he say? How could he possibly express to the small, growing child that it was assuredly the love of his life? That he would adore it and guard it with everything he had?

Pressing a kiss to Katherine's middle, Benjamin lifted his eyes and finally grinned, a giddiness swelling deep within his chest. "Tell me again," he pleaded. "Tell me I'm going to be a father..."

[waywardimpalawriter]

hi! i really love your writing, and was really hoping you could do another dean winchester x f! plus size reader. possibly were they are best friends and she is pining for someone else. so before she can make her move on someone else he stops her and confess his love for her. idk maybe some angst/fluff/smut?? you don’t have to if u don’t want to, it’s totally up to you. like no pressure at all! but seriously, i do really love all your writing and i wanted to say thank you for everything u write and do!! <3 once again no pressure at all with this ask, but overall thank you!!<3

Just one good reason

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Female Reader

SPN mixed Bingo Square: Hurt/Comfort Square

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester,

Setting: mid season 11

Rating: E (explicit), NSFW, 18+ only please

Warnings: angst, smut, yearning, grumpy and sweet Dean (yes they need a warning),

Word count: 12,805 (Truly Was suppose to be this long. I blame Dean for this.)

Summary: He’s given a million reasons, damaged goods, blood on his hands, nightmares, scared in so many ways. But most of all that he’s not good enough. Just when you’re ready to walk out that door he gives you one good reason to stay.

Notes: Thank you Anon for this request, I love writing for Dean so very much and to add a plus size gal in as well that just makes my day. I do hope you’ll enjoy this story. The song “Million Reasons” both version’s by Lady Gaga and Briana Buckmaster are inspiration for this story.

Tag list: Is open for all character’s and series I write for.

@spnmixedbingo

Dean Winchester list: @akshi8278

Just one good reason list: @chickensarentcheap

@impala1967dwinchester, @lilacprincessofrecovery, @superavengerpotterstar @jbbarnesgirl @sofreddie  @slightlyobsessedwithissues  

Ancient hinges creak wearily, firm hand pushing to hold open the heavy door letting you and Sam pass by. Fatigued sigh leaves slightly chapped lips, “It’s good to be home.” Taking the stairs down two at a time, tossing duffle bags towards the war table.

“Going soft on us old man?” Teasing quip tugging a smile from your lips as you drop down into the nearest chair. “Getting use to having that soft bed under your ass now huh?”

Scoffing, whiskey flecked green eyes settling on your plush frame, “Woman you forget we’re the same age first off.” Playfully stocking towards you, hands placed on the back of your chair to cage you in. “Second damn right that bed is magical, memory form baby, it remembers me,” poking your side, giggle leaving your lips body squirming in the seat.

“Stop,” pleading tone entering your voice, trying to evaded his questing hands trailing along your curvy sides. “Please,” puppy eyes begging for mercy, his hands aren’t willing to give. Though you can’t bring yourself to care seeing the weight, even for a moment, disappear from his countenance. Or the fact your sides aren’t the ticklish spot on your body, moving in the seat purely for show.

“Say your sorry for calling me old,” brow lifting watching you squirm under his hands. Wishing and not for the first time, he could have your soft body slotted against his harder frame. Knowing how well you fit just in a different way, one that hasn’t been enough for a long time.

Giggles burst from your lips, hands flat against the hard plains of his chest tugging on the dark blue t-shirt to distract from his plans. Pushing him away which had as much of an effect as a toy bulldozer did against a real brick wall. “Okay, okay I’m sorry, promise I’m sorry,” gasping for breath giving a hard tap to his shoulder.

“Now who’s giving up too soon?” Hands pause as his eyes catch yours for a long moment. Smiling face beaming up at him, heart beating triple time and not from assaulting you with his hands. Unable to resist the urge to touch your soft skin. Callused fingers come up to barely graze just under your left eye carefully capturing the eyelash on the tip of his forefinger from your cheek, “Make a wish.”

Leaning forward to place your lips close to the offered digit, eyes closed to blow a cold stream, eyelash fluttering away unseen. Keeping your libs lowered for a bit longer torn between what you truly desire and what’s within your grasp. Whiskey roughened voice breaking through your thoughts, sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine.

“What you wish for?” Swallowing hard, beloved eyes flutter open to ensnare his in there depths. Catching something simmering just below but disappears quicker than a jack rabbit running from a coyote.

Clearing yours throat, “Can’t tell ya Deano won’t come true if I do.” Giving a smile, pressing him backwards to raise and grab your duffle bag. Cell phone signaling an incoming text message making you pull the the black case wrapped piece of tech out of your front jeans pocket. Bright smile pulling your lips higher seeing just who’s messaged you. “Catch y’all later.”

“Someone good?” Sam speaks for the first time since coming home. Watching the scene between his brother and best friend. Wanting to strangle the both of you for not seeing what’s right in front of you.

Head snapping up from buried in your phone to stare wide eyed at Sam, “Yes, no I mean it’s nothing but could be something.”

“Will again?” Peripheral catching the dark scowl pass over Dean’s features before disappearing behind a mask of indifference.

Humming sweetly, sparkle lighting your eyes that go back to your phone for a moment. “He’s asking if we can meet up tomorrow for lunch, trying to choose where to eat.”

“What about,” clearing his throat to unclog the emotions choking off the air to breath. “That little diner in town? It’s your favorite and serves the best pie aside yours of course.”

Trapping and tugging your bottom lip between nibbling teeth, head shaking in the negative. “Nope he’s not fond of greasy foods.”

‘Plus that’s our spot,’ unbridled thought slides into your mind and you want to look over at Dean to remind him. But push those thoughts aside with a wave, heading towards the bedrooms carefully making sure not to bump into a wall while responding.

Green eyes follow till you round the corner, heart catching in his throat cursing himself for mentioning your diner. Knowing better yet wanting confirmation without asking if the spot is still special.

“You’re an idiot Dean,” shaggy brown head shaking as he to snaps up his duffle bag to head towards his room. “The foundation is already there start building before it cracks.”

“Thanks Riddler, just cause I’m Batman doesn’t mean you have to be so fucking vague.” Left with his thoughts and the growing feeling he’s loosing you to another man. Dean leaves his stuff lay where it landed glancing over the chair you vacated not five minutes ago then heading towards the kitchen. In need of something harder than beer but settling for the dark brew being the only alcohol in the bunker.

Opening the fridge door, grabbing a brew his fingers brush against the clear plastic container holding a single slice of pecan pie. Eyes unseeing, drifting back into memories when the Mark of Cain still burned into his skin.

2015

Charlie’s dead, beaten, murdered and left in a pool of her own blood. Every time his eyes close she’s there, expressionless sea green eyes staring blankly into his own. Never hearing her snarky retorts, sassy ways or those hugs she gave. Staring into cold brown sludge, hands gripping the mug a little too tightly. Not sure why he chose to come here of all places. When he could’ve started out on his hunt for the Styne’s. Deep down though he knows the reason right as the little bell signals someone’s entered the small family owned diner. Knowing exactly who and trying to ready himself for your present.

Never ready for how your soft fingers brush along his temple, settling on his shoulder for a moment while you slide into the worn pleather covered booth. Trailing those gentle fingers down his black and grey plaid covered arm. Tugging one hand from around the ceramic cup to intertwine your fingers. Head coming to rest on his shoulder, no words just comfort in a time when he needs it most.

“You shouldn’t be here,” dark with hints of gravel and kissed with pain in the tone. Whiskey flicked green obits focus, for the first time on something besides the cup in his hands, landing on the top of your head.

Shrugging, “Where else should I be Dean?” Looking up at him sorrowful eyes meeting right when your other palm comes up to brush moisture from his cheek. Unnoticed tears sliding down cool cheeks, “You’re my best friend there’s no place I’d rather be then right here helping you.”

“You could get killed,” the very through twists his heart till almost bursting. Brings bile to rise in the back of his throat, slithering through his system to settle unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach. It’s one thing to loose Charlie a heavy casualty. But you, Dean isn’t sure he’d come back from the dark path he’d follow for vengeance.

Soft sad smile turns your lips barely upward, “Not gonna happen I have my knight in shining Impala to keep me safe.”

“I couldn’t keep Charlie safe how can I…”

Shaking your head, finger placed over his kissable lips, “You’ve given me a million reasons already Dean Winchester and I don’t believe a single one of them.” Resting your foreheads together a moment, tenderness skating across your veins for the man beside you, “You might not believe it but your a good man.”

Pie filled plate slides across scared formica table top, metal fork clattering against the ceramic pushed in front. “More coffee,” sweet feminine voice floats from beside you.

Nodding, “Please, sugar and cream too.” Giving her a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes feeling Dean stir beside you.

“Black like my soul you know that sweetheart,” slightly chapped lips brush your cheek. A simple thank you for this act of kindness he feels undeserving of. If he hadn’t already been head over heels in love with you this sweet gesture would’ve sealed the deal.

Breathless gasp parts your lips as you turn finding Dean closer almost invading your space. Leather, motor oil and Irish Spring tickle your nose, eyes locking with those agony drenched obits, making another gasp exist your lungs. Heartache rocketing through your body, colliding with anger directed at the Styne’s.

“Eat your pie Winchester we’ll talk about that soul of yours later after dealing with the Styne’s.”

Heart freezing at the mention of the murdering family, “No,” rougher than intended, Dean grabs your chin twisting your face towards his. Rage hot and potent flaring through those beautiful greens. “No you will stay with Sam I’ll deal with them myself…”

“Dean you can’t be serious…” grabbing his wrist, pleading in your eyes for him to listen. Loosing Charlie splintered your heart, counting her as the sister you’ve never had. Her blood demanding revenge for the grievous act. But loosing Dean would kill you, knowing you never would come back from that agony.

“I am, deadly so. You try and sneak along I’ll toss that sexy ass outta Baby faster than you can pray to Castiel.”

Snorting, pulling your chin from his grasp, “You couldn’t lift me Winchester and you can’t stop me…” but the look he gives you does. Any farther flow of words halt in there bid to tumble out of your mouth.

“No I can’t,” callused palms cup your cheeks keeping you in place. Searching your eyes and making sure you understood, “I don’t want you to come with me Y/N. If there’s anytime to listen its now. I’ve lost one sister I didn’t want.” Bitting those words out to keep from speaking the others which threaten to pour from his being. “I can’t loose you,” resting your foreheads together again.

Nodding, trying to keep yourself from rubbing your cheek into his palm or worse press your lips against his. Lying to yourself isn’t something you normally do and you wouldn’t start now with the realization you were in love with your best friend and worried your going to loose him to the all consuming darkness.

You're giving me a million reasons to let you go

You're giving me a million reasons to quit the show

You're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

Present

Downing the last of his long neck, drawing patterns over the hardwood table underneath with the condensation from the bottle. Eyes trained on that single slice of pie you’d bought him weeks ago.

“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you D,” mirth filled voice floats towards him before you reach his side in body.

Hand coming into view grabbing for the container to toss it out. But Dean’s quicker, “If you value your life, you’ll unhand my pie,” thick fingers circle your wrist pulling your plush body down beside him. “It’s not nice to steal a man’s pie woman,” keeping his tone light, playful and away from the looming fate he knows will visit upon his person once you figure out Will is the man you truly want. Deserving of your light, and laughter, the sweetness, of your beauty that Dean only hopes the other man will appreciate.

Gasping in mock outrage, “Who me?” Hand to heart trying to keep the laughter from your tone. “I would never deprive you of pie Deano. But I would that slice since I think it’s become a science experiment.”

Narrowing his eyes towards the offending sweet dessert, “It is not.” Poking twice before pulling the pie forward for a closer inspection. Musical laughter meeting his ears, smothering the smirk threatening to bloom over his lips. “Okay so maybe your right,” turning his pouting face towards you.

“Course I am,” giving him a wink then standing to toss the ruined sweets out. Pausing by the panty, you peek in unaware Dean’s watching you from his seat.

Teasing sway to your generous hips has his eyes tracking every movement. Bitting the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning at how temping you look. Thick thighs encased in blue denim jeans feet bare from wearing those steal toed Dr. Martins during hunts. Body stretching upwards, soft cotton baby blue tank top riding up to bare a silver of delicate skin to his eyes. Your fingers barely snag the sugar container’s edge, pulling it down to clasp against your ample chest.

Chastising himself for the erotic thoughts flipping through his mind on a single film reel. “What exactly are you doing sweetheart?” Carefully keeping his lower half away from your line of sight. Lest you find out the problem currently tenting his jeans, teeth gritting to stop himself from acting on all those thoughts.

“Never you mind Dean Winchester,” tossing over your shoulder, checking for vanilla extract, light syrup, and butter from the fridge. Last stop the freezer mentally trying to remember if you there's a pie shell left or would need to make one. Hoping for at least a single, since checking the flour stock and coming up almost empty. “Start a list for me please and put flour on it,” setting the three ingredients in your hands down. Turning back to open the metal door to peer into the freeze, swaying slighting to a song running through your head. A triumphant “Yes,” exists your lips, a little dance of excitement upon finding the last shell.

Damn near swallowing his tongue so entranced by your movements gulping different words back down to keep from making a total fool of himself. As he utters, “Not till I know exactly what your making over there Betty Crocker.”

“Resorting to blackmail now?” Brow arched, unconsciously licking your lips slowly. Unaware of Dean watching the path it takes across your pump bottom lip, tucking it between indenting teeth.

For distraction purposes, Dean pulls his phone from the front pocket of his jeans. Bringing up the list app a suggestion to simplify things you gave him months back. Forcing himself to focus on the small screen in his hands instead of the woman currently dancing around the kitchen. Pulling bowls, pots and pans out, one chance glance has an inaudible groan vibrating through his chest at the sight of your plush ass. Bent over shifting through sheet pans knowing which you look for as arousal flares to life so potent Dean turns quickly hiding his reacting. Planting his face in the palms of his hands, elbows bent to catch the weight. Fingers digging into eye sockets to use the pain and banish the thoughts from reappearing.

Frowning at his actions you come over after putting the pan on the counter. Fingers running through his hair, scraping the scalp with short nails. Pleased smile at the groan you pull from his lips as he rubs his head into your palm like a little puppy. “Something wrong Dean?” Worry dancing through the cadence of your voice other hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

“Fine,” head popping up, forcing your fingers to slide out of his hair. Taking a chance to glance up into your worried eyes. Underserving of your soft touch searing his skin. An itch to run from our presence skitters across his veins. “I’m fine sweetheart just tired.”

Searching his face, those whiskey flecked green eyes so unlike the blue-greens of Will’s, catching something hiding in those deep depths he’s trying to hide. Never fooled by words, always inspecting his actions and those little tells partially concealed though you know them all too well. “You’re covering something up Winchester I’ll get it out of you one way or another,” patting his cheek and stepping away.

‘I don’t want you to go on that date,’ on the tip of his tongue poised to leave his lips he keeps smashed together burying those feelings to not ruin this chance you have at an apple pie life. The very thought tears his heart, rendering another hole in the punched out organ. Though it’s his own fault for giving you a million reasons to keep that boundary line in place. Tip toeing almost across a few times, but always toeing the line keeping himself in check. Head snapping around when something hard hits the back of his head, scowl in place though it’s more playful than menacing. “Did you just…” glancing towards the floor to find a lone pecan on the ground behind him. Head tilted to the side, eyes narrowed on your face, which is the total opposite of his holding a sweetly innocent look concealing the trouble he knows you’ll cause. “Seriously a pecan? That could’ve done damage Babe Ruth.”

Eyes rolling, snort issuing from your up turned lips, “I don’t know what you speak of Dean I’m just here making a pie minding my own business. Can’t help it if a pecan has it out for you.”

“Possessed it must be,” voice pitched in a poor imitation of Master Yoda, getting a boo hiss from your general direction. “Though something tells me a certain someone threw the poor helpless nut.”

Shrugging, face neutral a picture of indifference with hands on your wide hips ingredients spread out over the counter. “Stop calling yourself names Dean it’s not nice.” Bottom lip trapped for a second to keep from giggling at the way he’s looking towards you.

Enjoying this moment of normalcy you’ve managed to capture in these dark and dangerous times. Thoughts skittering towards Will, if he’s able to put up with the hunters life style? Former Marine, Will knows so little of what truly goes bump in the night making you worry he wouldn’t feel at ease. It’s the reason you’ve hesitated each time he’s asked you out. Not wanting to drag someone else into a life of blood and death. Persistence and patience paid off when you finally agreed on a dinner date for tomorrow night. One your actually looking forward to.

But then you glance towards Dean, seeing the smile grace those soft looking lips, shinning in his whiskey flecked green orbs for the first time in months and you hesitate. Would you want to leave this life for a man who wouldn’t understand you not fully anyway? Or stay and remain the best friend till a hunt takes one of you out? Could you truly leave your home with the Winchesters, with Dean?

His voice breaks through the your thoughts, ruthful chuckle echoing through the room, “Haha sweetheart stop trying to be John Candy it ain’t workin for ya,” bending to scoop up the tossed nut a memory filters through his mind. Opening a wound he thought long since closed over soaked in whiskey and women who’s names he’s forgotten. Shaking the thought away to ask, “You gonna chunk a nut at your boyfriend tomorrow night too? Or is that reserved for me?”

Not sure why he’s even asking or teasing you about it or the fact there’s a bite to the tone. He shouldn’t care about a simple date, yet the thought twists his gut smile slipping from his lips as he looks down at the pecan in hand. Unwillingly letting those images fill and play before his eyes.

If I had a highway, I would run for the hills

If you could find a dry way, I'd forever be still

But you're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

December 2011

Run down two room shack a nicer way of putting it truly, you think while pulling up outside next to Baby’s sleek black side. Hands gripping the steer wheel till knuckles hurt and you can focus again through the haze of tears spilling down your cold cheeks. Still trying to grasp the fact Bobby Singer legendary hunter, go to lore man, and surrogate father, dead by a bullet from Dick Roman’s gun. Itching for vengeance you try to quell for another time when you can let all the anger out. For right now you knew he needed you more than any strategy planning or revenge thought.

Remembering Sam’s voice shaking, laced with pain, peppered with rage but above all coated in sadness you could hear over the phone lines. Never hesitating to drop the case — for now — breaking speed limit in the need to reunite with your boys. You’d do anything for family even those who weren’t by blood. Learning a long time ago that family doesn’t end with the DNA flowing through your veins.

Shaking those thoughts from your mind and existing the car only to lean back in and grab the bags from the passenger side. Standing to full height to peer over the top locking eyes with those anger clouded greens. “No I didn’t bring you anything Winchester so don’t bother asking.” Trying to lighten the situation with poorly used humor.

Words fail to leave thinned lips as you pass by, hand holding the creaking barely held together door open for you. Following behind his voice scratchy from no use, “Sam call you?”

“Of course silly why wouldn’t he?” Placing the bags on what could pass for a pile of rubble instead of an island countertop. Turning to face him cataloging each feature, the stone set of his jaw, shoulders tight with tension, eyes those beautiful normally vibrate whiskey flecked greens mute with anguish he tries to hide.

Shrugging, shoulders dropping forward with no will to keep them up, “He shouldn’t have your needed else where Y/N.”

“Bullshit Winchester,” moving with purpose to stand in his personal space. “Bobby was just as much a father to me as to you. There’s no other place I’d rather be than here, for a different reason yes but I’m not leaving so suck it up buttercup.”

Catching the flash of anger tinging the deep greens whether directed at you or himself you’re not sure. “We already salted and burned his body, there’s no reason for you to stay.” Turning away from your softening eyes knowing your going to try and reason with him. Make him see he’s not responsible for what happened.

“I know,” two simple words make him pause and turn back. “I didn’t come to say goodbye to Bobby, I came for you.” Taking one step closer arms wrapping around his slumped shoulders bringing him into the shelter of your embrace. Steady hands running the length of his stiff back, imparting your warm, trying to give comfort knowing he’s unaccepting of such sympathies.

Brows furrowing, frown tipping his lips downward, fists clinching at his sides, Dean tries to keep himself from giving into the solace he so easily could find in your embrace. Warmth sinking into his skin through the layers of clothing he wears, tingling his skin, quickening his pulse.“Why?”

“You need me, your not listening to Sam or Castiel talking about going off to track Roman down yourself,” spitting the Leviathan’s name out like chewed to long gum. Head resting against his strong chest feeling the slightly erratic beat of his heart against your ear.

Back stiffening, “I don’t need you to tell me what to do Y/N I can make that decision on my own.” Low growl rattling through his chest as he pulls from your arms and steps from the warmth evaporating from his body. “You should leave.”

“And get yourself killed?” Hands slamming to your wide hips glaring daggers at your best friend. “What happened wasn’t your fault Dean. Any one of us could’ve taken that bullet, Bobby knew the risks of the mission, accepted them and died…” swallowing the tears threatening to slip from your eyes. “A hero,” ignoring his last words, reaching out to try and take his hand only to have him pull away like you’ve burned him.

“Don’t, don’t try to reason this with me I know better,” turning his back to head for the wall covered in papers trying to figure out just what Dick Roman’s up too.

Shaking your head knowing he’s hurting but not wanting to voice those feelings, to make him appear weak. With a sigh leaving your frowning lips you move silently beside him looking over the wall of weird trying to piece together how everything connects. Brushing your hand against his, pinkie trailing to catch what you think is his forefinger. Wrapping the little finger tightly around his you lean over, “I’m right here when you’re ready Dean, I’m not leaving nor letting go.”

“You should,” not bothering to turn and face you. Memories of Lisa and Ben filter through his thoughts along with Bobby, his father and what he can remember of his mother. “I’m poison and get everyone around me killed.” He doesn’t want to add you to the growing list. Rather wanting you to leave and find a different path for your life.

Tugging on his finger to wrap the middle and forefinger with your ring and pinkie fingers, “Then Sam and I are the antidote to your poison.” Giving a soft sad smile to his side profile, wrapping him up into your arms. Resting your head on his shoulder, voice a gentle whisper of breath upon his cheek and neck,“Those reasons keep tallying up Winchester we’ll hit a million before long.”

Reminding you both of a long ago discussion between the two of you in Bobby’s junk yard while still teenagers. Before angels and demons, vampires thought long dead and ancient Leviathan brought back from the pit of purgatory. When you made the packed to never fall for each other and always remain best friends. To never let go no matter how dire the situation, you’d have each other’s back.

Evaporating memories of long ago, you speak softly still resting your head on his shoulder. “You work on this mosaic of papers you have plastered over the walls. I have a pie to bake,” not giving it much thought you quickly press a kiss to his stubbled cheek then turn to head back towards the passable kitchen area.

Tingles dance over his skin for longer than he wishes, wanting to suppress those feelings bubbling up to try and consume him. Thinking he could bury them under the mounting pain and self hated. Yet, the warmth of your arms, soft press of your lips, your words register and sink into his brain Dean turns to watch you work unable stop a few of those feelings from dancing around his heart. Single thought shocking him in its stark contradiction to his current state of mind, Dean Winchester self proclaimed ladies man has fallen in love with his best friend. A sucker punch to the gut making him gasp and reel that silent declaration in. Stuffing it under the right full emotions of anger and pain. Letting them tap dance through his veins instead, something much safer for the both of them. Something he could understand and deal with.

I bow down to pray

I try to make the worst seem better

Lord, show me the way

To cut through all his worn out leather

I've got a hundred million reasons to walk away

But, baby, I just need one good one to stay

Head stuck in a cycle, I look off and I stare

It's like that I've stopped breathing, but completely aware

'Cause you're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

Present

“He’s not my boyfriend yet Dean,” eyes rolling as you turn to melt the butter in a small sauce pan. Though there is a part of you wishing he could one day fill the role unless a single good reason can change your mind comes your way.

“But you want him too?” Words muttered through presses together teeth. Hating the fact he’s letting something so trivial effect him in such a way. You’ve had other boyfriends, one night stands he’s had to sit through yet this one feels different. As if he could truly loose you this time and those thoughts scare the shit outta him the most. Because yes you’re his best friend for longer than he can remember but above that you’re the woman who gets him, argues with him, sets his ass straight when he’s being stupid and above all or so he hopes, loves him warts and all.

Hands pause at his question looking into the melting golden liquid bubbling silently remembering to flick the tiny knob and turn the heat off. While your head screams to say yes but it’s a little small voice beating quickly beneath your ribcage making you pause. Clearing your throat to gather what thoughts you could from their scattered places. You’ve always spoke with honesty to Dean, unless circumstances dictated other wise, and you weren’t about to change now. Through you wouldn’t turn to face him when you did wanting to keep from seeing his eyes. Finding the reason for his questions in those green depths you’ve fallen for though never spoken the feelings. “Yes, he could…” swallowing to coat your dry throat to spit out the words rotting your stomach. “I could have a chance at happiness with Will, Dean. Why do you even ask?”

“I don’t want to loose you,” ‘Because I love you,’ on the tip of his tongue to tell you, give voice and life to his true feelings. Wanting you to stay and forget about those million other reasons he’s let slip between the cracks in your relationship.

Frozen in place, hands gripping the countertop beside the stove. “You wouldn’t loose me Dean I’d still go on hunts with you, I’d stick around,” lies tasting bitter on your tongue, heart beating triple time wondering if he’ll pick up on the dishonesty your speaking. Always feeling he’d never see you as anything other than his best friend. Never the type of woman to draw his attention, too soft and plush in places most men wouldn’t want and you didn’t pine for a man who’s given you a million reasons to walk away. So you shoved those feelings, the love you held back trying to make it work with other men. To find the one who’d surpass Dean destroying your feelings for the green eyed hunter, giving you the one reason to stay and belong. So why now did he have to put doubts in your mind? Why ask these questions when in years past he’d brush other men away as nothing more than a passing fancy?

Silently Dean stands slowly making his way towards you, taking in the ridged stance of your plush form. Hands itch to wrap around your thick waist and haul you against his chest. Pausing right beside you, brushing his fingers against yours too hook what he thinks is your forefinger with his pinkie. “You and I both know things wouldn’t stay the same between us sweetheart. He’d find a way to take you away from me,” praying you won’t pull away Dean turns to stare at your profile. Taking in the beauty he’s catalogued thousands of times, the curve of your lips when you smile, slope of your nose, eyes bright with laughter or spiting fire when angry usually at him. Softness of your cheeks under his palms the times he’s actually got to cup and caress the skin.

“We’ll remain best friends Dean that’ll never change,” gathering the courage to turn and look into his eyes. Catching the sadness coating those beloved greens making your heart ache. Tongue slipping out to tug back your bottom lip between your teeth indented them to keep from asking the question your heart demands.

Of its own accord Dean’s free hand comes up to brush over your cheek, cupping the soft skin, fingers spread from apple to jaw wanting so badly to draw you in and kiss those tempting lips. “I want you happy Y/N and if it’s possible out of this life, been wanting that for you since Bobby,” sliding his hand to your chin to pinch the end with his thumb and forefinger tipping your face up to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’ll miss you sweetheart.”

Eyes lock with stormy greens after he pulls back, soft gasp parting your lips at the simple touch, words sounding like a goodbye instead of their usual see ya later. Grappling for words to say, questions to ask, trying to figure out what’s going on, and why now. But he’s gone before your brain can catch up with your mouth, and your turning to rush after, seeing his back disappear around the corner.

Feet finally responding to command as you quickly follow stopping at the doorway, “Give me one good reason.” Praying he’ll listen and stop, hoping it’s not too late. “Stop giving me all these reasons to leave.”

Back ridged but his mind a flurry of thoughts and answers, more questions than he could shake a stick at. Only one reason comes to mind, “Good reason to what?”

Traveling the short distance to take his hand intertwining your fingers with his, needing him to turn around and look at you. Needing the connection while stating, “Give me a good reason to stay Dean to not go tomorrow night.”

“I can’t,” partly wanting to flinch from your touch, to tug his hand free, and partly wanting to sink into your familiar embrace. Soak in the peace he always finds in your arms, to bath in your warmth and possibly bask in your love. But Dean wouldn’t be selfish he’d let you go even if it meant killing his own heart and soul.

The urge to punch him grows strong but your refrain from using violence, “Why not? Too scared? Or you just don’t care?”

The warmth of your hand disappears from searing into his palm, tingling those long nimble fingers, his eyes close knowing you’re walking away because of that millionth reason. Till the first brush of soft fingers tender in there touch upon his cheek. He gives in to the urge and rubs his slightly stubbled cheek into your palm. “If that’s you Sam, I’m gonna kick your ass dude,” ignoring your questions in favor of basking in your touch instead. Hearing the soft giggle from your lips brings a smile to his own. Eyes finally opening too stare into yours, almost doing a doubt take at what he sees in those beloved depths. “I don’t deserve you Y/N.”

“Stop giving me a million reasons Dean and give me the one that’ll make me stay,” imploring him with your touch, fingers tracing over his cheeks and jaw. Tracing his plush bottom lip with the pad of your thumb, “I just need one good reason.”

He’d find the situation funny if it’s anyone else standing in front asking the same question. Even Sam would get a chuckle from his lips, but you, his breath freezes, heart thumping wildly in equal measures of terror and excitement. The very thoughts running unrestrained in his mind scare the shit out of him, but only one truly feels right. Snaking an arm around your thick waist pulling you against his strong chest, fitting like missing puzzle pieces. His free hand coming up to cup your cheek, “I love you.”

Tears slip from their ducts barely held back till those three simple words spill from his mouth jump starting your heart and sending your emotions swirling. Warm palms cradle your wet cheeks, gun callused thumbs brush hot tears away, you spy the worry and fear your non response sparks. “Do you mean it?” Wanting clarification before handing your heart over to the very man who’s held it for so long.

Knowing what your asking Dean stops waiting and lowers his mouth to yours. That first touch of lips electricity shoots through you veins. Body responding quicker with arms going around his neck to pull him firmly against you not a wisp of space between your bodies. Fingers tangling in the short hairs at the back of his head while you slot your lips against his. Demanding and deep, a tangled dance of tongues. Clashing of teeth, a melding mouths and finding the right angles to draw those delicious moans from each of you. Till air becomes necessary and you break apart panting, “That answer your question sweetheart?”

“No,” smirking when his eyes narrow, “I wanna hear it again.”

No hesitation in speaking those three words, “I love you.” Groaning when your lips smash back to his. Stealing breath from his lungs and a moan from his chest, Dean walks you backward till your pressed against the cool tile wall. Lower pelvis holding your soft body in place so his hands can dance over your cotton covered plush form. Palm’s flat against your thick waist, slowly dragging them around and down to cup your generous ass. Squeezing firmly and making you gasp.

Using the opening as a way to work his tongue back into your mouth, delving in for another taste of your sweetness. Low groan existing when rearranging his mouth to fit differently and snag a gulp of air. Stubble abrading your chin in the most spectacular of ways. Pooling heat low in your belly and making your mind wander in other more salacious directions. Brought back from teetering on the deliciously desirable edge by a sharp bite, his teeth nabbing your bottom lip to tug, letting go with a wet pop. Breath fanning out over your heated cheeks. Eyes once closed now open and locked with yours a pleading undertone to the desire darkened greens.

Knowing what he wants to hear and unable to wait along, “I love you too Dean.” Heart bursting with unrestrained joy flooding your system and making you love drunk.

“Thank fucking God,” groaning, resting your foreheads together still trying to reign in the wild thumping of his heart. Your admission only serves to make the largest muscle spasm quicker. All his pent up emotions, desires and needs flowing to the surface, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from rushing into something too fast. Remembering it’s still fresh and new between the two of you a different path to the relationship already established in friendship.

Giggling softly, you cup both his cheeks, thumbs brushing along his skin, three days worth of stubble abrading your palms. “So,” teasing smirk pulling at your lips, “I better call Will huh?”

“For?” Trying to keep the bitter growl from escaping and giving away his feelings on the sore subject. Tugging your soft body back in place from your wiggles to side free, not ready to let you go just yet.

Sliding one hand down his chest to rest where you know his anti-possession tattoo resides. Tracing the edges with the tip of your finger over the black t-shirt he’s wearing, locking eyes with his, “Seems I’m a taken woman. Wouldn’t want to lead the poor guy on now would I?” Watching how those whiskey flecked greens darken, pushing his lower body deeper into your plush form. Barely heard as you try not to give away the whimper of need his body produces in your own, with his pressed so tightly. Cool concrete keeping you body temp from over heating for the moment.

“No,” clearing his throat leaning in to draw his nose over your jawline. Touring towards your ear, catching the lobe between his front teeth to tug. Low desire filled growl leaving his lips, followed by, “Tomorrow is another day sweetheart and right now you’ve got better things to do.”

Heading tipping over granting access to the parts of your neck he wants, trying to keep the shiver from rolling over your body. Heat flooding your veins sparking a need you’ve never felt with any of the other men you’d previously had relations with. “What,” licking your parched lips, “what better things Dean?” Praying it’s the same idea rolling around your head for the longest time.

Pausing in his mapping of your neck and shoulder with his lips, Dean raises his head to spear you with a heated look. “Me for starters sweetheart, that is of course…” uneasiness has him trailing off the first time in his life. The bitter taste of uncertainty coating his thoughts for a fraction of a second before your lips land back on his.

Teasingly soft presses, little ghost touches of your tongue, playfully dotting his cheeks, chin and forehead with your lips before brushing close to his ear. “Hey Dean,” smiling against his skin, tenderly pressing your lips just south of his ear. Nibbling the found patch of sensitive skin behind committing the spot to memory for later. Breath puffing out quicker feeling him shiver, knowing what the next words would invoke in Dean and his love for the movie. “You big stud. Take me to bed or lose me forever,” sultry tone added to the cadence.

His eyes close for a moment, heart swelling as you recite the words to one of his favorite movies. Marveling at the fact you’ve remembered the lines perfectly and Dean falls deeper in love with you if that’s possible.

The gentle caresses of your lips against his skin setting fire to his nerve endings, room in his jeans becoming a hot commodity as his shaft thickens and throbs. Finding the distraction almost too much while trying to recall the next line. Teasing giggles reach his ears that he replies to with a deep chuckle. Words coming back to him, “Show me the way home, honey.”

Reaching down to tug one hand from your ass, chuckling with a shake of your head when it doesn’t budge but squeezes the generous globe. Notching himself tighter into your body, smirk appearing as your eyes widen, gasp issuing from parted lips. Bitting the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling before the words can escape. “Is that a pickle in your pocket or you just happy to see me?”

“Oh sweetheart it’s a great big dill I can show ya,” flashing a smirk, both of you trying hard not to laugh.

“Preferably,” deep voice tinged with slight offense but liberally coated in amusement. “In your own room so the both of you aren’t bare ass naked in the hallway bumping like bunnies,” having rounded the corner towards the kitchen and catching the intimate embrace. “A vision I don’t want branded into my skull thank you very much,” Sam paused arms crossed in annoyance. Golden dotted green eyes dancing with mirth, catching the playfully scandalous expression cross your features. Glancing towards Dean who buries his face in your neck getting a deep chuckle from his brother.

Try as you might to keep from busting out laughing they just rolled out of your mouth as your eyes lock with Sam’s. Acting stoic but the smile tugging at his lips and the teasing flash through his eyes speak a different story. Only thing holding you up is Dean’s body still pressed heavily against your. The man in question glancing up first to look at you then over his shoulder towards Sam. “Don’t even start Sammy,” grumbling good-naturedly giving him a middle finger salute and the opening you need to slip from between his hard body and the wall. Teasing growl rumbling through his chest at the loss of your warmth. Dean reaches out to snag your arm but you manage to dance out of his reach, giggles echoing off the walls trailing behind your disappearing form.

“Wouldn’t dream of it Dean but Cas owes me fifty bucks,” patent Sam Winchester smirk sliding over his lips. Brow raised at his scoff, “Can’t believe I had a betting pot going?”

Watching you run off happy grin tipping his mouth upward, he looks back at Sam grin still in place. “Just can’t believe it’s with Cas. Rowena maybe, Jody, Claire, Alex and Donna fuck yes but Cas,” incredulous look stealing over his features for a few moments.

“Who say’s the bet’s not bigger than you think,” broad shoulders shrugging same smirk in place, Sam enters the kitchen on that note leaving Dean to stare wide eyed after his baby brother. “Matter of time, always just a matter of time,” laughter tinged voice exists the kitchen, unseen shake of his head at the mess left behind.

Stock still for a fraction of a second till soft giggles echo quietly down the hall, grin turning into full blown smile. Need rushing back through his veins in remembrance of your position just a few short moments ago. Low curse existing his mouth, Dean turns racing off to find which room you’re hiding in.

Nerves tingled through your body, worry interrupting thoughts/memories of short minutes ago. Hard press of his body against yours, warm moist breath fanning out over your skin sending tingles of a different kind to skitter across your veins. But now standing in Dean’s room trying to figure out where to lay or stand that would invoke images of sensuality. You look down at your bare feet toes wiggling against cold concrete. Up wards to thick jeans clad thighs, a baby blue tank top covering your torso, self consciousness went out the window decades ago. After the first serious injuries you suffered at the hands of a vengeful spirit had you damn near stripped naked in front of Dean. Confidence in face of adversity knowing he’s the only one for miles around to patch you up.

Now though is different, same confidence but wishing for sexier clothing something to entice and tease. Small snort issues from the depths of your body knowing damn well you had nothing of the sort in your possession. Flannels, tank tops, t-shirts and jeans hunter’s required staples along with the functional under garments you groan at remembering are mismatched at the present.

“Beautiful even in those rumpled clothing,” deep voice breaking through thoughts and making a squeak sound as you quickly turn to face the lazily leaning against the door jam hunter. Arms crossed over muscular chest, biceps straining the black t-shirt’s sleeves, “I meant what I said before Sammy interrupted us.”

Tugging your bottom lip back under indented top teeth turning to face him fully, “Which part?” Barely keeping the mirth from bubbling over, “That I should show you the way home or you have a big dill?” Easy going banter calming your nerves even the part about feeling ill-prepared clothing wise.

Tender infused whiskey fleck green eyes turn molten with each sweep of your body. “I love you,” words escape as eyes stay locked, Dean pushing away from the doorway. Booted foot catching the hardwood door and slamming it shut behind him. Stocking towards you as a lion would his prey, licking parched lips wanting to devour you. Hands fisting at his side though to keep from reaching out and doing just that incase it’s something your not ready for.

His breath froze upon seeing you walking around his room, something akin to relief floods his veins along with a sense of rightness. Sure you’ve come in hundreds of times to wake him from a nightmare or mornings, to barrow music and to talk. Yet, this time feels different giving your relationship changed moments ago. Catching the indecision clearly written in those beloved eyes that don’t focus on one place too long. For a moment Dean wishes he could read your thoughts but then having hunted and lived together for decades he picked up the situation and cues without having to know your thoughts.

Pleased hum breaks Dean from the wondering trail his thoughts took him on to spy the sweet smile gracing your lips. Hands positioned on your hips one cocked to the side as you stand there waiting expectedly. Restraining himself, Dean opens his palms to bring them up and cup your cheeks dragging you against him. Lips meeting in the tenderest of kisses that he keeps in place while speaking, “You want this, want me?”

Recognizing his vulnerability and what he’s asking with those simple words, arms wrap around his back fisting the shirt tightly to press the two of you together. Love saturated eyes burn into those greens you could drown in, “That’s my question Winchester stop stealing my lines.” Flattening one palm to slide up and into his hair. Pressing another kiss to his soft lips you’ve only imaged kissing till now. The reality so much better than any fantasy you ever came up with.

“Calling me a thief now sweetheart?” Using jokes to cover the fact he’s searching for the right words. Flustered and frustration slither through his veins in a combination Dean’s not accustom, words stammering of unintelligible nature tumble from his mouth. The feel of your blunt nails sending pleasurable shivers down his spine.

Nodding, craning your neck back a few inches but keeping your eyes locked, “You stole my lines and my heart Dean so yes that would make you a thief.” Hand sliding over his back now and settling into the back pocket of his jeans, “I also meant what I said back there.” Catching the cocked brow you elaborate, “Take me to bed Dean I’m tired of waiting, I want to know how it feels to have you inside me.”

Soft groan issues from parted lips. Wanting to act on your words so damn badly his body vibrates with barely contained desire. Forehead coming to rest against yours, strong hands sliding too loosely wrap around and caress your neck. “You know I’m not great at relationships. I could seriously fuck things up.”

“I know but then so could I,” any doubts or insecurities evaporating into the ether with every look.

Callused fingers brush over your bare shoulders sending sensual shivers cascading down your body. Rubbing your thighs together for added friction with the heated look Dean’s fixing you with. Boosting your confidence to step back his hands drop to the side as you own pinch at the hem of your tank top. Slowly pulling it from your body, letting it drop with a barely heard whisper.

“Fucking hell sweetheart,” resolve snapping, reaching for your hips and tugging you back against him harder than intended. Lips sealing quickly to swallow the gasp existed parted lips Dean takes advantage of and slips his tongue inside the warm cavern of your mouth.

There’s nothing gentle about this kiss, it’s all teeth and tongues, fighting desperately for dominance. Pulling groans from the depths of Dean’s soul as he pulls whimpers and moans from your own. Till air becomes needed though it doesn’t stop your mouth from trailing a hot path across his stubbled jaw. Nibbling towards that little patch behind his ear to flick the tip of your tongue against. Smirking at the shutter rolling through his body, fingers dancing a rhythm over his shirt covered torso. Hem reached you tug twice to which he nods reaching behind him grasping and pulling the garment off to join yours.

Hands, palms flat immediately going to ghost over his rippling tummy. Muscle covered soften causing all moisture to pool south, clit throbbing almost painfully. Sure you’ve seen him bare chested before this time it’s different. For pleasure instead of patching him up. Drawing desired groans rather than pain filled. “I know Sam would abject but I so wouldn’t mind seeing you walk around shirtless.”

Full belly chuckle leaves Dean’s lips, “Sweetheart don’t talk about other men right now especially not my brother.” Possessive hands landing on your naked plush waist, fingers spanning the distance and gripping the flesh in his palm. Dreams having nothing on the real woman in his palms.

“Just stating facts sir nothing more,” trailing your fingers over the slightly hair roughen skin. Brushing pebbled nipples from the cool air and your proximity. Reserving a gasp when you lean forward to lap with the tip of our tongue and nip at the peaked point. Glancing to lock eyes as you switch and give the same attention to its twin giving the same attention getting a hiss from your actions. Dragging you lips upward to trace his tattoo with kisses.

Molten green eyes drinking in the sight of your lips on his skin, shooting desire straight to his cock. Throbbing need demanding attention no matter how good your soft lips feel against his body. “Baby girl,” groaning at the nip you place, eyes close to compose himself. Flying open as air cool brushes his skin inside of the shared heat of both your bodies. Mesmerized by the way you reach back to unclasp your bra, pushing your lushes breasts out teasing his vision, salivating for a taste of your skin.

He steps forward crowding into your space backing you into the bed till the back of your calves hit the edge. Wrapping his arms around your plush form to brush hands away and do the task himself. Finger tips skimming the edges of both straps till reaching the top at your shoulders and drawing them down. Keeping his eyes locked with yours while pulling the garment from your pliant body tossing it behind him. Eyes flicking down on a groan, licking his dry lips at the beauty displayed for his ravenous gaze.

“Lay down for me sweetheart,” meeting your lust blown orbs with his own. “I wanna see you in my bed,” biting off a whimper when you drop onto the edge. Bountiful breasts bouncing teasingly as he watches you slide backwards towards the head board. Hands going to the button of your jeans, low growl pausing your nimble fingers. “That’s for me to do baby girl, just,” swallowing harshly as he looks you over. Partially naked spread out over his bed picture perfect memory for those times when the darkness tries to steal this happiness. “Give me a moment to drink you in.” Unable to decide where to look first, “So fucking gorgeous.” Toeing off his boots, hands going to his own jeans your shaking head pausing the movements.

“I get the same pleasure,” licking your lips slowly while raising up on your elbows. Beckoning him with two crooked fingers, hand resting with the palms up beside your plush body, “Get up here before I get impatience and take matters into my own hands.”

Declaration making him pause a moment low growl rumbling from deep with in his chest. As desire blown green meet yours, smirk gracing his handsome features. One knee comes to rest on the mattress Dean leans forward keeping eyes locked while pressing a kiss to your ankle. Grinning, feeling the quiver that runs through your body. “You wouldn’t dare sweetheart,” adding his other knee to spread your legs and slowly fit his body between.

“Shall we make a bet Winchester?” Using your free foot to brushing the nearest thigh with the flat. Sliding towards the very noticeable bulge busting the seams of his jeans, toes teasing the thick ridge before pressing the flat of your foot against him. Rubbing the length slowly pleased when a growl echos the room.

Grabbing that foot tickling the pad enjoying the way you squirm and giggle. Taking the opportunity to move fully between your legs. “About that bet hum,” fingertips drawing an invisible path of fire down the middle your body. Bracing then both arms on either side of your shoulders hovering over you, warm breath fanning out over your cheek he nuzzles with stubbled chin. Pulling a whimper from your gasping lips.

Of there own accord, your hands slide up the strength of his arms and biceps to clasping fingers together around the back of his neck. Left leg draped over his waist to pull him against your pelvis, breathless moan parting your lips at the contact of his hard length pressing into your dripping center. “I don’t want slow or gentle Dean,” head tipping back to give access to his questing lips that find your wildly thumping pulse, sucking a mark into the soft skin. “We have all night for that I just…” words caught upon seeing whiskey flecked green eyes dilated almost pitch with desire. Cheshire Cat grin tugging kiss swollen lips upward.

“Just what sweetheart?” Humming, brushing your lips together before returning to his last spot. One hand dragging over your soft body cupping the generous globe massaging gently feeling the nipple peak against his palm. Teasingly circling the stiff nub with the tip of his index finger before giving a sharp pinch and making you gasp out. Back arching at the pleasurable pain skittering across your veins.

Grasping what’s left of your mind to try and form coherent words, body responding instead pressing your chest into his large hand. Nails score down his back, one completing the journey to give his ass a tight squeeze. As the other detours to between your intimately pressed body. Happy to find enough space to slot your palm against his erection, cupping his throbbing length and giving short little strokes. Smile blooming with a breathless groan against your collarbone where Dean’s forehead currently rests. Nimble fingers pop the small metal disk, pulling the zipper tab down to slip the hand inside. Warmth enveloping palm feeling him twitch has you slowly licking your lips at the mire thought of getting to taste him.

“You’re killing me Y/N,” rutting his hips into your hand, mouth coming back to claim yours in a punishingly bruising kill. Tangling your tongues together, nipping a little harder on your bottom lip than meaning to but the accompanying moan flows straight to his cock. Making him twitch against your palm that has slowed with the distraction of the kiss.

Breaking for air, panting while trying to form and speak the right words, “We’re both a little over dressed Dean.” Pulling your hand from the tight confines of his jeans, using the one at his ass to help pull them and his boxers down only stopping when you couldn’t reach anything passed his knees. Sigh of relief exists his parted lips making you giggle and press a kiss to his chin. “Feel better?” Bottom lip trapped and nibbled on as your fingers brush his length. Finding your fingers barely wrap around the girth while to stroke, palm sliding over precum leaking head. Hips thrust forward at the sensations tingling down his back gathering low in his belly.

“Now who’s over dressed?” Mumbling the words against your skin. Dean regretfully brushes your hand aside grinning at the annoyed huff that leaves your lips. “Ah sweetheart put that sexy pout away you’ll get a chance to taste me soon enough. Cause if you keep using that soft hand on my cock I’ll cum faster than I want.”

His words presenting so many thoughts to run through your mind only cut off when wet warm heat engulfs your right nipple. Tongue flicking quickly over taut peak, blunt teeth nipping then soothing over with the tip of his tongue. Switching to the twin leaving both sloppy wet and tight, gleaming in the low light of his room. Worshipping at the temple of your body with kisses pressed into your tummy, running scared callused hands over your skin in silent reverence. Eyes taking in very inch Dean sits back on his knees between your parted legs. Tracing his knuckles along the seam of your jeans covered cunt, making you jolt against him.

Pausing to strip your jeans and panties from your body, tossing them and kicking his own off to land somewhere on the floor. Raising up on elbows to finally get a chance to look at him in all his naked glory. Tracing each divot of scars over a broad chest, passing over the middle to admire thick bowed legs spread wide. Lips licked slowly upon landing on his ridge cock, slightly curved and resting against his lower belly. Palm itching for a touch, mouth watering for that taste. “You’re beautiful Dean,” words whispered so low your unsure if he’s really heard them.

Heat blooms over his cheeks at your admission, looking your fill of his adonis body. Dean returns the admiration. Tracing the features of your beloved face, staring a little too long at your heaving breasts, soft tummy he wants to nibble on at some point. Thick thighs he can’t wait to have wrapped around his waist once he’s buried deep inside your wet heat. The very though has his eyes dropping between your parted legs, glistening folds beckoning him forward. Caught in that tempting trance, Dean slides back between your legs. Brushing his lips just above your mound and receiving a whimper from you. Locking eyes, “I think you got that backwards sweetheart, it’s you who’s beautiful.” Dipping to run the thick flat of his tongue through your folds, humming at the tangy sweetness exploding over his taste buds.

Hips cantering against his mouth, your own letting a deep moan free as one hand slides down to card through his short brown locks. Tugging the strands getting a groan to vibrate against your cunt while his talented tongue dances through your soaked folds. Torturing your clit with ghosted touches, one arm wraps around our thigh spreading you open. As the other slips a finger inside your wet channel, finding you squeezing and tight, garnering a deep groan of arousal from the man between your lips.

“Dean,” voice wrecked and he’s barely touched you. When he doesn’t answer or budge from his sensual assault on your cunt. Lips having formed a perfect O around your clit, tongue flicking kitten licks to the tiny nerve filled nub. Pleased with he whimpers and whines that filter through his desire filled mind.

Resulting in you tugging on his hair harder, back arching as a small shock rocks through your body, tingling your belly when he bites carefully on your clit. “Dean please,” eyes rolling back into your head at the added second finger. Crooked and pressing into the little spongy spot you’ve never had anyone touch. Ripping a half scream from the hidden depths of your soul.

Smug smirk tugging over slick wet lips, stubbled chin coming to rest just above your mound. Watching as you heave a breath, breasts catching his eyes for a moment till you tug again. Fingers anything but still as they thrust and scissor you open, working you carefully to fit his slightly above average length not wanting to hurt you. “Yes sweetheart?” Licking his lips from your slick.

Free hand coming up to cover your heated face, “Don’t sound so smug,” gasping the last word when his thumb brushes over your clit making you jump and wither. Heat spreading from that special spot in your belly, where the tight coil starts to wind higher. Thick thighs tremble with each sensation Dean draws out of you. “Need you, please, please.”

Caressing your quivering walls with the gun callused pads of his fingers, massaging your clit as you plead. Breath chocked out on another moan, chest heavy, heat coating your skin as you wither under him. “Ah but I can’t help myself sweetheart you don’t know what seeing you like this does to me.”

Gathering what little strength you have in your limbs to reach down and cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing over the skin under his eyes. “Why don’t you get up here and show me Dean?” Voice wreaked yet a tender undertone rides through the cadence.

Pressing a single kiss to the pulsing little clit, giving once last flick making your squirm and Dean to chuckle. Slowly pulling his fingers out, stroking twice more your hips chasing the indescribable ecstasy winding its way through your veins. Only to have the tingles dance slower, the coil start to unwind as frustrated huff leaving your gasping lips.

Taking advantage to plunder your mouth, greedy for a sample of the wet cavern and a tongue tango that draws out a sharp moan of need. Especially tasting your tangy sweetness from his lips, sucking the bottom between your teeth to nibble. While reaching blindly over to the nightstand, damn near yanking the whole draw on the ground in his haste. “Give me a sec woman,” huffing out he rolls slightly off you. The noise drawing a giggle out causing him too stiffen, glancing back with a playful glare to refocus on finding his prize.

Using the opportunity to nose the thick column of his neck, taking in the scent of whiskey, leather and motor oil, peppered now with sex and sweat. Addicting and unable to help yourself from sink your teeth into his skin gently but hard enough to leave a small soon to purple mark. Soothing over with the flat of your tongue catching sight of the pause your actions caused. The aroused moan that leaves his lips, head resting on the bed to try and gather himself from your onslaught.

“Something wrong Dean?” Nipping just below his jaw, tracing your fingers along his side. Index finger swirling through the spares, crisp hairs leading a path to what you’ve craved to have inside you for a long time. Nimble fingers surround the base forming a perfect circle that can’t close but tightens. Stroking his length teasingly slow. In return receiving a warning growl — the sound devastating your senses making you throb — from the man currently fishing for a condom and growing frustrated when his fingers come up empty. “Shall I stop my love? Am I distracting you?” Whispered words breathed into his ear, lips kissing the shell. Knowing damn well just how tormenting you are to his senes and body. If his twitching cock your hand currently wrapping around stroking and the shallow breaths are any indication.

“Ha,” triumphant shout of accomplishment, Dean rolls back over you pressing bodies together and into the mattress. “Now where were we?” Flashing that teasing smirk with a hard rutting of his hips against your dripping core and tight fisted hand.

“What to you so long stud?” Biting back the giggles when he fixes you with a scowl.

Breath hissing out through clinched teeth when taking your hand off his cock, bringing those wickedly wonderful fingers to his lips and sucking on each one with a short nibble. Placing the open condom pack in your palm, “Do the honors sweetheart.”

Curling your fingers around the little foil packet, pressing your other hand into the back of his neck drawing Dean in for a tender kiss. Slow meld of your lips, light sips of your warm mouths. Tenderly tugging his bottom lip, to slide your tongue over the bruised skin and into his mouth. Licking and touring the heated cavern, seeking out ways to make his moan and grunt. A moment of forgetfulness while mapping his tonsils and sucking on his tongue, till you break for air. Chasing his mouth for more kisses only to receive a chuckle instead.

Eyes open to spear him with a heated look, foil packet crinkling in your hand a remind of your mission. Slipping fingers from his soft hair, to trace over his body, joining its partner between the two of your heaving bodies. Unlocking your eyes to glance down, hand wrapping back around his thick shaft to stroke twice getting a needy moan from the man above you. Before teasingly rolling the condom on paying special attention to the thick pulsing vein on the underside, mouth watering at the thoughts of getting to taste it later.

Dean grasps one of your hips to bring the leg around his waist, opening you up and feeling your soft skin under his palm. Sliding between your bodies to entwine his fingers with your, pumping his cock together. Different sounds, a hiss from Dean and a moan from you exists on shuttering breaths. Eyes reattach both blown with desire and coated in need, you notch the head of his cock at your entrance pressing the heel of your foot into the small of his back to urge him forward.

Teeth clamping to draw blood from your bottom lip but also to keep from screaming out in pleasure as he slowly sinks inside your quivering depths. Reaching up with his other hand to free your bruised lip, brushing the pad of his thumb over the glistening skin. “I wanna hear you sweetheart don’t hold back.”

“What about Sam?” Breath hitching, mouth hanging open on a moan that’s trapped on the edge of a scream when he bottoms out against you. Bodies flush, joined hands now resting above your head where Dean’s placed them.

Leaning in to press open mouth kisses to your lips and neck letting you adjust to his size, the exquisite stretch thumps through your veins the slight sting only heightening the pleasure. “Never mention his name while we’re in bed sweetheart,” snagging the lobe of your ear with his teeth. Pleased when you nod speechless, though not enough, “Words baby girl I wanna hear that prefect voice of yours.”

Swallowing trying to form words to answer, scoring your nails down his back an impatience mewling whimper leaves instead. Using the leg not wrapped around Dean’s waist as leverage to plant and push your hips up against him. Squeezing your walls tightly around his shaft drawing out a grunt from his lips. “Dean…” going to say more but he chooses that moment to pull out till just the crown rested inside your pulsing channel. “Just you…” hips snapping forward to fill you quickly stealing those words into a loud scream of ecstasy.

Starting a hard punishing rhythm, repeatedly waiting till your fixing to speak and either pulling out or trusting home. Always taking away what your going to say. Knowing your trapped between frustration and pleasure, Dean captures your mouth in another deep kiss. While his hips snap against yours, wrapping the other leg around his waist to angle you differently. Pressing your intertwined hands into the pillow beside your head and breaking the bruising kiss to gulp a lung full of air into both your burning lungs.

Feeling your walls start to quiver around his hammering cock, knowing by the pinched look on your countenance, the quivering of your thick thighs clutching at his trim waist. Heels pressing into the small of his back drawing him forward with quickened strokes that he’s shortened from the long deep thrusts. Notching your legs higher on his waist to press forward, curling his pelvis into your core, determined to make you cum first. Wanting to feel you soak his cock, see the looks of pleasure dance across your features.

Sliding his fingers through your soaked folds to find your pearl pulsing, pressing the pad of his thumb circling to make a gasp fly from your lips. Back arching, tingles no longer gentle but tap dancing a rhythm through your veins. Dean’s name a chant from your dry, parched lips, panting to try and fill your starving lungs. Body vibrating on a higher frequency only Dean’s turned in on as with every snap of his hips, brush of his thumb sends your spiraling deeper into euphoria.

Reaching up to wrap your hand around his neck to bring him back down for another kiss. This one sloppy as the thrusts of Dean’s hips, brief touches of lips, wet slide of your tongues across the other. Eyes sliding closed only to snap back open with a pinch to your nipple soothed over my his teasing fingers.

“Keep those beautiful eyes open for me sweetheart and cum for me I know your close. You just gotta let go for me,” resting your foreheads together, gritting his teeth to starve off his own orgasm. The wet clinch almost too much for Dean to handle. Always wondering but never imagining how good this truly would feel.

“Dean,” breathing out his name, a series of moans and whimpers following. Trying to capture his mouth for another kiss that’s broken off when your orgasm slams into you soaking Dean’s cock in your slick. Eyes rolling back his name a screamed prayer from your lips.

Body convulsing in pleasurable all consuming fire, little sparks of light pin prick behind your tightly closed eyes. Moisture breath fans out over your neck where Dean buries his face, lips pressing into your skin. Chasing that high while working you through your orgasm the wet clinch of your walls prove too much to starve off any long. Giving in with a groan of your name rubbed into your skin as he fills the condom. Circling his hips a few more times to drag out the pleasurable spikes racking his frame.

Collapsing into your arms a welcome weight pressing you into the mattress as you both try to capture your breath. He brings your joined hands down starting to untwine them but the shake of your head stops the actions.

“For a few moments longer,” voice hoarse from screaming out your pleasure. Free hand coming up to card through his sweat drenched hair. Brushing the strands back from his forehead and sliding your lips over his. Brief touches, lingering into something deeper. Tender caresses of mouth’s, nibbling, and sucking softly on bruised skin. Dean starts to move getting a whimpered whine from your throat tightening your arms around him.

“Gotta clear you up sweetheart I’m not going anywhere,” reassuring you with another soft kiss while carefully pulling out of your tender depths. Mesmerized by the slick coating your tights and dripping from your convulsing walls. Brushing his fingers over the reddening swollen skin, gasp reaching his ears, eyes flying up to yours. Then flicking across your body seeing the beard burn on your neck and chest, hand prints blooming over your hips. “Did I hurt you?”

Sitting up to cup his cheeks, “No Dean you didn’t hurt me. If you had I would’ve told you.” Leaning in to kiss him tendering, “Better take care of that mess it’ll get awful sticky otherwise,” giving him a bright smile. Watching while he gingerly takes the spent condom off, tying it closed before tossing it into the waste bin by the night stand.

Raising to walk on shaky bowed legs to grab up the wash cloth from the sink. Wetting with warm water he turns back stunned to find you watching him with a grin on your lips. “Like what you see?”

“Hmm no,” seeing the frown you go to finish. “Love Dean, I see the man I love,” frown switching to teasing smirk as he nears the bed.

Nudging you to lay back and spread your legs, tenderly wiping you clean. Dragging the warm cloth over your folds and inner thighs. Tossing it behind him to crawl into bed gathering your pliant plush body against his hard chest. Back pressed into his front, arms wrapped tightly around your thick waist. Placing a kiss to your shoulder, “I love to you Y/N, get some rest I’m far from through with you.”

Soft giggles vibrate into his chest, “Careful you’re getting old baby you sure you’ll have the stamina?” Toying with the fingers tapping against your tummy sending shivers cross your body.

Low growl accompanies the drag of his teeth over your sensitive skin, drawing a moan from your lips. Pressing his hips into your generous ass, “Give me an hour sweetheart and I’ll show you just how much stamina your man has.”

[opalsdarkreadings]

𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞

Pt 1

Pairings: Gojo Satoru, Yuji Itadori, Fushiguro Megumi, and Nobara Kugisaki x Black reader

Warnings: depressive themes. Mention of cheating.

Note: I’m breaking this up. Instead of making this just one big headcanon they’ll all have their own separate post with their own little song to match the mood . Hope you enjoy 🙃

𝕲𝖔𝖏𝖔 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖚

Time, seems to always move slow with you.

Something he despises, yet it’s was so alluring. Like waves crashing back and forth on the beach shore. Pulling those closer to the edge to watch the pools of blue shimmer like diamonds. Hypnotizing others to the edge, the beauty so blinding that danger awaiting for you cease to exits

It’s only when you're caught in its vastness, so cold like ice and uninviting. Then it hits, but you’re too far under, you’re too far deep in and can’t escape.

But did you want to anyway?

Did he not see it, or was it always there?

Maybe…his ego would never let him say. However, deep down he knew he was addicted, enchanted, wrapped so tightly around your finger that it mimics the tight coils over your head. You were a temple and he was just a desperate disciple. Your touch was like a gentle cradle so warm and filled with light, that it left him aching for more.

He hated it

He was in love, so hopelessly in love that he never notice. Because of that fact he was scared. So scared that he crossed boundaries that no man could in his lifetime.

Winked a little too many times at that baristas. Sweet talked that helpless lady that bumped into him. Left too many beds to only come home to one that truly felt like home.

You’ve cut his walls down so much, he couldn’t take it. It shook his resolve, his spirit and he didn’t know how to handle it

But surely he could have seen it coming, or was he just so naive that he thought he couldn’t break you.

The wave of almost unfamiliarity that settles over your relationship. The first hail storm that blocked out the beautiful rays of you, disappear. Clouds settle in, and the water that held you’re relationship rocked and churned. Soon that stillness was nothing more than a fleeting memory. That soft russets, reddish-brown skin or deep umber brown skin, like a sparking twilight sky, no longer glowed in happiness in his presence. That beautiful melanated skin he has grown to love, the temple he so hopeless worshiped was turning their back to him.

You were his first love, after losing so much. His best friend, his purpose, you were the only rock that stayed unyielding in his sea. The waves that constantly crash against that rock seemed to never break it down. Or maybe he was lying to himself. He pushed you so far, hurt you so much, and maybe it was right for him to see you being torn away for him. Maybe you were better off without him.

Cause when you ran away….

That day you ran away he knew that rock finally shattered and sunken to the bottom of his ocean.

He could never tell what you were thinking, what you were feeling. You bounce back even after the most damaging situation. If you’re an enemy or curse user you would have been on equal footing on him for that simple fact. Cause for a brief moment, he felt you had dragged him from the depth of his sea. You had finally broken through all his defenses.

And that terrified him.

Buts there is so much a beaten dog can take before it bites back. Gojo knew, that atop that raft you finally let go of his hand. Watching him sink to the ocean floor with dead eyes. Eyes he made, voided of life, will, and love.

He pushed you and all he could say was sorry. No matter how much he screamed sorry, how much he begged your eyes were a dead resemblance of you before.

But what could he had possibly said to make you stay? You unravel every lie, every scandal and now you’ve washed your hands to him. He slept in one too many beds, made the same promise too far too many women and it was catching up to him.

The thing he wanted the most, the thing he craved was walking out the very door he lied to them at.

He loved you, couldn’t you see? He didn’t leave, he didn’t abandon you. You just didn’t love him as he did….did you not?

That’s a lie

Your back was the only thing he seemed to remember. It was something like a dream. The way time seems to move slow. The sway of your hips, the smell of perfume of yours, your face, became engraved into his memory. Always playing as if the time then, seemed to move slow.

Running away is always easy, but watching you leave…

Watching you leave scarred.

[killianmesmalls]

There are so many issues to unpack in 14x17 (“Game Night”) and the subsequent episodes’ handling of Jack’s situation leading up to 14x20 (“Moriah”). I know it’s been said a few times, but there are hints that Jack’s soul isn’t completely gone at this point based on his emotional reactions versus how we have seen other soulless characters behave in similar situations. This could be due to his unique circumstances as a nephilim, but regardless we see that he does still process some level of emotions (guilt, sadness, fear, etc.) versus what we’ve seen displayed by, say, soulless Sam or demon Dean.

A lot of debate over how accountable he may or may not be is centered on his age compared to his maturity level. This is understandable considering he has the capacity to learn complex skills and concepts at an alarmingly fast rate while also very much being new to the world.

What makes me insane about what happens to Mary is if it were literally anyone else the brothers would not have reacted the way they did. Would they have been upset? Sure. No more upset than they were when he accidentally hurt the security guard in 13x06. As Dean himself said in 13x06, they all have blood on their hands and they’re all monsters if held to the standards Jack is attempting to hold himself to. Not only that, but he rushed in moments earlier to save Sam’s life which is conveniently forgotten.

The problem is, this is Mary. This is the perfect mother figure that Dean (and even Sam) can’t quite remove from a pedestal considering their whole lives revolved around getting revenge from the last being that killed her before discovering the larger web of “fate” they were tangled in and forced to suffer through.

Dean and a lot of anti-Jack fans often forget all of the events that led up to this point, all that his parental figures have done in their own pasts, and Jack’s true age in spite of his appearance and complex skills. There are a lot of people who put Jack in one of two spaces: he’s a baby/toddler or he’s a teenager/young adult.

The thing is? He’s both.

It is canon that he learned how to drive before he learned how to blow a bubble out of bubblegum. He likely learned how to fight a war before he learned how to tie his shoes. He was hacking traffic cameras before he received a talking teddy bear. Jack is experiencing life out of order and on fast forward, and has repeatedly shown that his lack of overall experience may not make him necessarily a “child” but it does give him a certain level of naivety and lack of ability to properly handle certain stressful situations.

Not only that, but let’s remember that the last time Jack disappointed a parent and lost a part of himself, he was beaten to hell and almost sacrificed himself in order to save another parent. It is even in the 14x17 script that, when Jack asks Mary, “Are you going to tell them?” he’s scared. Truly scared. Now, this can be anything between the very understandable “child is scared about his dad(s) being told he misbehaved and getting into trouble” and the recent memory of “the last time something like this happened was very traumatic and I haven’t been given the time or space to process this fully.”

More to it, the people who say Jack “murdered” Mary forget that it was not only an accident, but this two-year-old being flew around the planet in an attempt to right a wrong born out of a moment of emotional turmoil. When in this show have we seen anyone else give this much effort to fix an error? And, throughout his struggles to fix his mistake, we see him rocking back and forth, praying to his mother, and trying to ignore the demons in his head. This young soul had a lot of his autonomy stripped from him, repeatedly tried to prove to be useful in order to receive acceptance and love, and was rewarded with his worst fears being confirmed the moment he accidentally caused harm.

I’m not saying Jack wasn’t dangerous. Anyone with all of two years’ worth of life experience complete with intense powers is dangerous. How many toddlers in this world would have nuked their parents in a grocery store after being told they couldn’t get the cereal they wanted? He doesn’t have the life experience at this point to regulate his feelings with appropriate reactions. What I am saying is that he was treated unfairly and never received the understanding often afforded to the brothers who are both more experienced and, arguably, have caused more damage throughout their lives.

Perhaps, if it were anyone other than Mary, this would be different.

[pinepickled]

why tf you ship sukuna and megumi??

Aw, thank you for letting me write a little something for these two! They really are my OTP (for this fandom, anyway).

I ship them for a lot of reasons~

I think that Sukuna is a very powerful being who hates being bored, and who finally saw something he liked in a world of curses. Megumi intrigued him greatly, and it shows. He is always so gentle with Megumi, even when fighting. To me, it's always looked like Sukuna was trying to coax Megumi into letting go, into being free with his emotions- even the "undesirable" ones.

I like how Sukuna goads Megumi into turning his back on civility and elegance, how Megumi feels free to split his face into a grin and laugh loud and proud when he fights Sukuna. I like how Megumi always feels more natural when Sukuna is present, as though he knows that any pretense is moot next to him. How Megumi feels free to act like his father, to enjoy the fight and the pain and the opponent in such an intimate way, even though these have done nothing but hurt him in the past.

I like how Megumi is, ultimately, at Sukuna's mercy- and I like how Sukuna can be so merciful when Megumi is involved. I like how Sukuna is enchanted by Megumi- and how Megumi is haunted by Sukuna. I like that when they meet, the world around them can't help but quake.

I like how Sukuna can grab Megumi by the neck and make the boy fear for his life, while simultaneously holding his own cursed hand over Megumi's heart and heal his wounds. I like that Sukuna isn't going to run away from Megumi when the boy let's loose, and how Megumi always tries to meet Sukuna's strength with his own.

And that's just what has happened in canon.

I think Sukuna likes to hold Megumi. Likes to wrap all the arms he can summon around Megumi, and hold him close so that perhaps Megumi will feel just how not-human Sukuna is, and choose to stay in his arms anyway. I like that Sukuna surprises Megumi, how even though the curse is who he is, Megumi can still be surprised by the peace he finds within the specter.

I think that when Megumi finally surrenders, finally willingly drops to his knees without being beaten bloody, that Sukuna will catch him. That Sukuna will be gentle, will cradle Megumi's face in one hand, hold on to his waist with another two, and finally have a firm hand on Megumi's thigh as Sukuna carries him to their bed- Sukuna has many hands, after all, and what would be the purpose of having so many if not to hold Megumi?

I think that when Megumi chooses to splay out and curl up in Sukuna's bed, he won't fear for his life- not that time. Because then Sukuna would walk in, as he always does, curse markings and blood red eyes boring into the shaman, and Megumi would only see the relaxed posture, the soft smile, and the welcoming embrace. That's all Sukuna has to give him, after all.

Perhaps Megumi would get on his knees first- face away from the curse so he wouldn't need to face the reality of his situation. That somewhere along this road, he chose to put his ass in the air for the King of Curses. Chose to let that dangerous being- the most dangerous being- run warm hands up and down his thighs, over his back, along his neck and his jaw and everywhere those hands could reach. That he chose to let his first time be with something not even human- and that he would never tolerate any time after that being any other way.

Maybe, once Megumi had fully sat himself on the terrible decision that was loving Sukuna, he'd lay on his back. Beautiful heart and soft tummy exposed, legs spread patiently, softly gripping the sheats beneath him, waiting for his curse as he always did. And Sukuna would come, because leaving such a beautiful sight unseen would be a crime. He would come and seat himself right where Megumi wanted him, and would wrap his many arms around Megumi- he always gave the best hugs. Maybe, as he slowly worked himself into the shaman under him, always so careful, he would take a clawed hand and hold Megumi's own calloused fingers. Gently, softly, and with great care would he finally lay on top of him, cradling that hand, and move as though they were two beings who'd known eachother for a lifetime. And Megumi would realize that through all of the curses and blood and battle, the King chose not to pound him within an inch of his life, but to make love instead. There is a certain warmth Megumi will never forget, the warmth that that realization brought.

Of course, for good times there must always be bad- especially when you love the King of Curses. People are hunting him, and Sukuna isn't one to back down. How foolish these poor, poor shamans are. To believe that their own measly cursed power could compare in any way to the King. Gojo could have, if he'd wanted to, but he didn't. Gojo had learned a long time ago, standing over the bodies of his best friend and his students father, that there was no way in hell he'd follow anyone's damned agenda again. Being friends with the King of Curses was much more rewarding- and he got to see his cute little student more often too! But foolish shamans are foolish, and many have challenged Sukuna- and all have died. When the foolish shamans realized that their foolishness would only send them to an early grave when it pertained to attacking Sukuna, they went for Megumi instead. It was plainly obvious that Sukuna favored Megumi, after all, and Megumi was still a weak shaman who could only reliably use a few Shikigami and whose prowess with the sword was nothing compared to his sire.

But that's okay. Megumi has Sukuna after all, and no one is more safe in this world than the one who chose to love the King.

Megumi remembers a time in his life, so long ago, when he despised death, and hated pain. It was a brief memory, barely crossing his mind. It was hard to think at all, really, when he was seated atop his King, slowly moving up and down, blood the only thing aiding his movements. Whether the blood was his own or from one of the dozens of bodies strewn across their front lawn, Megumi truly didn't know. He was very pleased, on the other hand, that Sukuna had kept the fight outside this time. Whenever the fights went into their home, it was Megumi who had to clean it up- and being on his knees always gave Sukuna ideas so it took forever. Thus, Megumi decided to reward his King, though through his haste he hadn't properly prepared- and now it seemed he didn't need to.

Sukuna loved Megumi like this- loved how that scared little boy who bit off more than he could chew was now feeling nothing but ecstasy surrounded by the carnage he'd narrowly avoided. Sukuna didn't know how Megumi had gotten so bloody- perhaps when Sukuna had thrown a body toward the door where the shaman was standing- but it didn't matter. The King was so blessed. He had a cute little thing willingly riding his cock, in the middle of a pool of blood, and using it as lubricant. There was no prettier sight to see than this, nowhere Sukuna would rather be, than with Megumi not having a care in the world about anything but him.

Well, that's all that was floating around in my head! Hope you enjoyed this little rambling of mine~

[calem-creative-corner]

Creeping Dawn

I... wrote a little thing. My elf-silver dragon oc Victor needs some love.

Also featuring one of the ocxoc ships I have for him!! @multi-lefaiye‘s Nasgatei makes an appearance. I love the themb (as in ship and character) 

Content Warnings: Vague Death, Death Mention, Fire Mention, Scars Mention

Memories are hit or miss, moreso misses when you have a troubled past. 

Silver lined blue eyes slow open, glowing a dull red as pupils flick towards the alarm clock glaring from the nightstand. 

04:16. 

A heavy sigh left thin lips as the body sat up, swinging legs off the side. 

04:16, it would be now, or never.

Victor quickly put his backpack on, the bag weighing him down a bit with its contents of food and stray clothes. Hopefully everyone else would be sound asleep and he’d make a clean escape. 

Guilt piled in his stomach as he realized who and what he would be leaving behind, but he could not stand to be in this home anymore without answers. 

Without looking back, he opened his window and entered the hot and humid night air.

Crisp early morning air caressed his skin as he leaned on the balcony railing outside of his now home. With a flick and spark of blue-toned flame the scent of cigarette smoke mixed in with the city's morning air.

The ashes filled his lungs before he realized what the sight before him was.

He didn’t understand. He had left, why were they the ones being punished? 

The angry red flames engulfed his old childhood home, the crackle and roar swallowing the scream from inside. The silhouette of a figure in the top floor helplessly beat against the glass before the fire pushed both parties to the ground in a charred and bloody heap. 

The figure had been burned so badly Victor could no longer physically tell who it once was, but he knew based on the size.

“M-mothe–”

He gripped the railing tightly as the sun began to turn night to an early-morning haze. The soft rays of yellow laying over Victor’s body highlighted the one thing he hated more than him. Himself.

Scars littered his pale skin, raised gnarled from going untreated. Silver scales shimmered in patches between these marks.

“Bring him forward!” A voice called from the judge’s podium as a scared adolescent Victor is dragged from behind the crowd and to the center of a stage. 

Why was this happening? Victor’s wide eyes scanned the crowd. Their eyes were filled with fear, disgust, and anger. Why? Why look at him that way? He was the one who just lost his family! Tears were forming in his eyes. They were blaming him because it was easy, because to them it made sense, because his father’s damned heritage started to come through. 

The scales shining on his beaten and bruised back were enough to convict him. Enough for the townspeople to want him dead. 

He remembered becoming frightened to the point he thought his heart would just stop. And he thought it had as everything went black, however, when he came back the entire town was coated in ice and flames. 

The scales had spread further along his body, most covering his left arm or his back. 

Gentle hands traced over his scar and scale freckled skin, his body not even reacting to the touch as the hands moved to embrace him by his waist. The other’s body pressing against his back as a sign that he was not alone and a weighted comfort.

“Rough night?” The deep and rumbling tone of his partner broke the silence. Though asked, the two knew the answer.

Victor sighed and flicked the used up cigarette off into the alley, “Same as ever.” He turned to face them, Nasgatei watching with concerned but doubting eyes. 

The golden warmth of their eyes, the deep rich tone of their skin. Victor couldn’t ask anything or anyone to hand him someone so beautiful yet could relate to him so deeply. Sometimes he believed they were truly his karmic return for the horrors he’s been witness to in life.

“Hey, it’ll get better.” They offered him with a softer smile before it turned into a playful smirk, “Now stop brooding before the local goth kids come to take their title back.” 

A snort left Victor and that seemed good enough for Nasgatei. They gently patted his chest, “That’s more like it.” They turned to return inside but Victor reached out, his hand finding theirs. 

Quietly he pulled them to him, their back to his chest as he looked back out over the city.

“Just… stay a while.” He barely uttered as he placed his head on theirs. The smaller of the two humming in acknowledgement as the sun fully rose into view.

Perhaps a new dawn would give them brighter dreams.

[yandere--stuck]

Yandere!Springtrap x Reader Headcanons

💛 You had always been interested in animatronics, ever since you were young. Ironically, it had started with your visits to Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria as a child. In spite of all the urban legends and rumors attached to the franchise, you only had fond memories of the place, especially the animatronics. You couldn't recall what your original favorite of the bunch were, but as you got older, your interest turned more toward the original animatronics from the older establishments. And that's why you had been so excited about the new Fazbear Frights attraction! If the forums were right, the people running it had actually gotten their hands on one of the originals! Either Fredbear or SpringBonnie for sure! You couldn't wait to see it…!

🐇 … But, then the attraction burned down before it had even opened. And now here you were, sneaking under police lines to see if there was still a chance you could see it, to capture at least one piece of your childhood again - hell, maybe you could even salvage some merch, or maybe even a part of the animatronic!... If it hadn't been completely lost in the fire. You skilled around the building, brushing against the charred remains of the building, suddenly regretting all of your life choices, when you spot it - nearly making you jump as you spotted a slumped over figure just out of periphery. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears as your vision adjusts. Your mouth drops open - you can't believe it. It's him! It's him!!! SpringBonnie! God, maybe even the original SpringBonnie! You immediately rush over to the animatronic, smile beaming, kneeling down to look over the bot. He's busted up, broken, burnt (and, God, it reeked, too), but was still somehow all in one piece, and in pretty good condition for something that survived a fire! Glancing to the side of the building, it looked as though there was once a window there - as though something had pushed the SpringBonnie out. Perhaps to save it? Recovering from the adrenaline pumping through you, you shrugged and began dragging the bot back to your car. You'd always wanted one of them, but never had enough money to buy one off one of those auction sites! And… You swear you hear breathing besides your own as you drag the poor bot, but try your best to write it off as your imagination.

💛 And you certainly had not expected to wake up face-to-face with a large rabbit animatronic that was practically falling apart at the scenes. Because it shouldn't be able to stand or walk or - or stare into you with big, sad eyes and croak out, "Help…" You screamed and shot out of bed, trying to press yourself against the wall opposite to it, too afraid to consider running for the door or taking your eyes off the machine. The SpringBonnie turned slowly, seemingly groaning in pain, reaching out for you, but didn't move from his spot. Slowly, he managed to calm you, promising he wouldn't hurt you, soothing you enough to hear his story. Apparently, he had been someone who had worked at one of the Fazbear Establishments. The poor dear had almost been killed - beaten and stabbed and forcibly stuffed into one of the SpringBonnie suits, with the springlocks having gone off, sealing him inside the suit. It was a miracle the poor thing was even alive. You immediately started to pull out your phone, but he stopped you - he had spent so long inside the suit that he had forgotten so much of who he was before, and a bit of his mind had picked up some of the AI within the robot. He was no longer the man he used to be, so there wasn't much any hospital or authorities could do for him.

🐇 Even as you tried to care for "Springtrap" (as he called himself), you still asked if he was sure he didn't want to see a hospital or somewhere that could help him, but he refused. Springtrap admitted, trembling (probably out of both pain and fear) that he'd be thought a monster, or killed, or even worse, his would-be killer would find out and return to finish the job. Of course, he was terrified - you would be, too, in his situation. So, you figured if he couldn't be convinced to go now, you could somehow manage to change his mind later. For now, you chose to focus on cleaning him up and making him comfortable. Apparently, he couldn't expose the suit to water, so you made the best of the limitations you had and made sure to be careful of the springlocks, cleaning him carefully (and trying not to gag as you saw the exposed muscle and flesh beneath). The final product was a big improvement, and it must have made Springtrap happy to be some semblance of clean. You helped him to the couch and made sure he was comfortable - and together, you talked for hours, about what had happened to Springtrap, who you were and what you had been doing upon finding him, everything Springtrap had missed over the years…

💛 You had originally considered eventually convincing Springtrap to go somewhere for professional help, but… God, he just got so scared whenever something like that came up in conversation… But, it was also out of selfishness. You couldn't help but kick yourself for it, but you had grown attached to Springtrap. You didn't want him to leave. It had been so lonely before you found him, but now you had someone who genuinely appreciated you and your company, who liked being around you, loved it actually, who you found you could talk to about anything. It made you feel so guilty, especially as you felt your feelings becoming more and more… Romantic. So you tried your best to make up for it, making him a special meal (turns out he somehow doesn't need to, or can't, eat), getting him the softest and fluffiest pillows to rest on, being there for him, practically coming at his beck and call, buying him painkillers so that he can feel something besides pain. You just felt like you needed to make it up somehow, even if Springtrap said you had done more than enough. 

🐇 One night, you had finally confessed to him. William - though, he had gotten used to being called "Springtrap", he loved the way it rolled off your tongue - had been laying against you, head resting against your stomach. Oh, poor darling, you had been so guilty and conflicted - and Springtrap relished in it, grinning darkly under his mask. And he confesses back, of course. How could he not fall for you? His little hero, his savior. So sweet, so kind, so trusting. So loving. He had learned to love from you… But, he was still William Afton. He could not share, and he loved being in control. He hadn't even felt this way with his own wife. You were special. You were his. All his! So, he lies. He says he was a poor victim of some serial killer (Ha! If you had any idea just how wrong that was…), matching up with the rumors surrounding Fazbear Entertainment. Saying that he had lost his memory had added additional pity, and part of him thought he had gone too far with the whole "part of me has become one with animatronic" thing, but you were just so adorably naive and ate it right up! It was truly precious. You were lucky you had found him, he'd take care of anyone who tried to manipulate you… Well, besides himself, of course. It was so easy to make you feel obligated to help him, to feel like you were inherently selfish… To make you love him, to love him like he loved you. And he does, and he told you as such. He struggled to pick himself up and press the snout of his mask against your lips, nuzzling against you. Oh, how he loved you so… Underneath his mask, William chuckles as he thinks to himself, That was easier than I thought it would be.

[let-love-bleeds-red]

Ezekiel reyes x reader

A/N: I’m new to posting/publishing my works so any feedback is welcomed! Maybe will do a part 2?? Depending on you readers. Also don't be shy to ask for more characters or different shows. ☺️

Summary: Ezekiel leaves their romantic partner high and dry as he deals with supposed club business. Y/n feeling quite lonely sends an attention grabbing video to Ez only for his phone to be left behind. After a confusing phone call with Angel, y/n decides she needs to see who Ez has been talking to. When Ez’s past crashes with his future puts Y/n in a bad position, y/n must figure out what’s better for her future and their relationship.

Warnings: Mature language, smut, oral sex, fingering, masturbation, mention of bodily fluids, mention of abuse, angst.

Word count: 3073

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Light shuffling wakes me from a blissful dream. My eyes adjust to the light shining through the window blinds. I rub the sleepiness away and make eye contact with the bare back of Ezekiel Reyes. Shamelessly, I take in every inch and mark of his body, happy that he's mine.

Ez turns around feeling eyes on him. "Like what you see cariña" (darling) the corner of his mouth curves up into a devilish smirk.

I'm sure I'm drooling at this point. Recapturing my composure, I throw a pillow at the back of his head. "It surprises me that your ego is bigger than your head" I retort.

He turns away from the dresser facing me “you didn’t mind my head size when it was between your legs,” a shit eating smile filling his face.

“Ezekiel Reyes!” I scold giggling. Warmth floods my cheeks as I hide underneath the covers. Large hands make they’re way up my legs, kisses trailing close behind them. My breath hitches as his lips make contact to my inner thigh. His teeth nip at certain spots making sure to leave many love bites. My fingers scratch the back of his head leading him further up to where my body most craved. He licks my slit, his focus now on teasing my clit.

A soft moan escapes my lips as my hips involuntarily buck up closer to him. Ez smirks kissing up to my sternum. He looks up to me with mischievous eyes. I pout from the loss of contact, “you just want to get me worked up.”

His hand molds my breast while playing with my nipple, “You look so sexy when you’re frustrated.” His hot tongue connects to my erect nipple sucking and tugging lightly, the other hand not stopping its menstrations. He bites the side of my breast causing loud moans to escape.

My hips grind against his abdomen looking for friction and much needed relief. “Fuck.. Ezekiel” my nails scratch along his shoulders driving him further on. “Please mi corazon” (my heart) I moaned, needing more of him. His hand leaves my breast, sliding down to where I ache the most. Two digits pump in me while his thumb gives attention to my clit. I ride along Ez’s hand getting closer and closer to my climax. His fingers feel like magic, hitting every sensitive part. I’m arching from the immense pressure of pleasure that’s fighting to be released. Just as I’m reaching the edge a ringing freezes Ez’s actions. Ezekiel looks to me, then to his phone across the room on the dresser, then back to me. “Don’t you even think about it,” The need for release takes over my emotional state.

Ez kisses my forehead, “Lo siento mi amor.” (I'm sorry my love) He climbs off of the bed making his way to the dresser and answers his phone. He turns away from me talking low to the person on the receiving end. I don't know if it’s my sexual frustrations or the fact that he’s acting sneaky but something was definitely up. Ez’s hush conversation ends as he rushes to get his clothes on. I sit up worried, “Is something wrong with the club? Is Angel alright? Bishop?” Here I am frustrated since we didn’t finish, yet my Mayan family could need help. Even worse they could be hurt. God I’m so selfish.

“No hermosa, everyone is fine. The club needs me for a run. I can’t say no to them,” He eases my mind. “Rest baby, I’ll be back before you know it.” He kisses my head rubbing the crease on my forehead.

“Be careful, I know it's just a run but things can go bad so quick, so please be careful.” I hug him snuggling my head to his chest hearing his beautiful heart beat.

He rubs my back holding me close, “See you in a few, sleep mi corazon” He takes my face in his large hands planting a soft kiss to my lips. After a brief moment he lets go and grabs his kutte from the corner chair. I hear the door close seconds later and sigh sadly. He just left and I’m missing him like crazy. I’m so whipped. Maybe I should show him how bad I’m missing him.

Grabbing my vibrator from the nightstand drawer, and setting my phone on the stand to catch all my naughty actions. I flip the switch to High on my vibrator moving it along my wet slit. The vibration re-excites my sensitive clit, as I rub it through my folds, lubing it up. My other hand finds my breast playing and tugging my nipple. “Ezekiel I want you so bad baby” I moan imagining his hands, his tongue, his huge thick cock. “I want you fucking every bit of me to pieces.” I rub against the vibrator gathering friction on the bundle of nerves. Feeling tired of waiting for release I thrust the vibrator into me. Not stopping to get used to the size, I thrust it fast in and out of me hitting my g-spot repeatedly. Taking my hand away from my breast I moved it down to my clit rubbing the sensitive bud to push me over the edge. “Fuck! Right there Ezekiel!” I moan arching my back. A split second later the burst of release and pleasure fills my body. I take the vibrator out seeing my cum drip along the sleek tool to the tip as I rub my orgasm out. “Would’ve been better if you were actually here,” I look at the camera. “I miss you, baby. Come home soon. I love you,” I blow a kiss toward the camera and end the recording.

After a long hot shower, I lather myself in lotion and get dressed. Checking how the naughty video looks, I send it to Ez satisfied with the results. A ding sounds from across the room. Investigating where the sound came from leads to Ez’s forgotten phone. For someone with great memory he forgets a lot of stuff. I’ll call Angel to let Ez know.

“Hey princess, you finally wise up and realize I’m the hottest Reyes?” Angel answers.

I roll my eyes laughing, “Sadly you’re mistaken Angel, Philippe will always be number one.”

“I’m gonna tell Ez you said that.”

“What makes you think Ez doesn’t know,” I smirk.

“Gross” he groans is distaste.

“Like your face. Anywho, how did the run go?”

“What run? Everyone is given the day off until the party tonight”

Confusion wracks my brain, “none of you went on a run this morning?”

“Not that I know of. What’s wrong?” He asks worriedly.

“Uh nothing, I just thought Ezekiel was with you and the guys. My mistake, sorry to bother you Angel.”

“You’re no bother princess, let me know if you need anything.”

“Okay thanks Angel, bye.” My heart sinks. Ez lied to me. He actually lied and broke his promise. Why would he do that. It has to be important if he needed to lie to me. Yea that’s it.

I look towards his phone thinking back to who he was talking to earlier. If it wasn’t the club then who? Going against my conscience I look through his messages to see Emily pop up on his recent. The messages showing meet up places on days Ez left early to do club business or met up with his dad. My heart is breaking into pieces. Shattering even more with the lies and betrayal. He knew how I felt about starting this relationship, about the trust issues, and trauma. He knew every part of me yet decided to destroy all that was built between us. Liquid drips onto my arms, I wipe my eyes not realizing the tears pouring. I don’t want to cry. I shouldn’t cry. Not over someone who didn’t truly love me. Yet I cry for the love that I gave him. I cry for being dumb enough to fall so hard for him, for giving my all to him.

~Months prior~

Slowly slipping out of strong arms I reach for my shirt and panties laying across the floor. Trying to be stealthy, I look for my missing shorts. How can someone lose shorts in a trailer?! There’s literally no way it’s too small, but of course my luck. I yelp as I feel myself being pulled back into a warm chest. Ez chuckles beside me, happy to catch me by surprise. “Buenos dias hermosa” (good morning beautiful) He kisses my temple leading more down the curve of my neck.

I hit his firm chest, “You scared me half to death, jerk!” Trying to hold back my smile, but Ezekiel being Ezekiel can see right through it.

His hand frames the side of my face as his thumb lightly trails across my bottom lip. “You weren’t trying to leave without saying goodbye were you?” His brown eyes bore into mine taking in every feature.

Not able to lie to him, “Yes, but only to get to the office before Chucky,” I explain while trying to climb off the bed again only to be pulled back to straddling Ez’s waist. “This is what got us in this situation in the first place, Reyes,” pointing to our current position.

His big hands slowly crawl their way up my bare thighs causing shivers to run up my spine. “You’re too irresistible, and you didn’t seem to mind it. I do remember you begging for more.”

Curse his memory. I hit his chest, ”Not my fault you kept following me around, I felt bad. You were like a lost puppy.” I smile thinking back to the first day we met. “Speaking of memory, where are my shorts?”

A mischievous smirk slips across his lips, “now what do I get if I tell you?” His hand now on my ass, pushing me slightly on his erection.

I jokingly ponder his question, grinding my hips slowly to tease, while tapping my chin in a thinking motion. “Hmm.. Not getting caught by Bishop, nor beaten to death. Oh and possibly get buried in the desert.” His smirk falls off his face. “But knowing Bishop he’ll probably castrate you first,” I grin thinking how protective the Mayan President can be.

He groans, pulling my shorts from behind his pillow. “Take them.”

“You were hiding them!” I laugh pinching his side teasing.

“I didn’t want you leaving,” he taps his finger along my thigh nervously.

“As sweet as that sounds, I don't want your death on my hands if Bishop catches us,” I joke.

“I want Bishop to know,” he states confidently. He sits up having us chest to chest as he watches my features. “I want us to date, be a couple in front of the club, in public. I don't want to hide it,” his hand caresses my face.

“Ezekiel,” I stop his hand. “I can’t do that. I can’t put sheer dumb trust in another person, not with my emotions and body.” Heat fills my chest from the traumatic memories. “I will not put myself in a position to be beaten down and taken advantage of.” Slipping out of his hold, I put my shorts and flats on trying to make a quick exit.

His hand gently wraps around my arm catching my attention. “I don't want you for your beauty and body, you’re so much more than that. You’re so strong and very smart, your humor and wit make you, you.” His arms wrap around my waist pulling me a bit closer to him. “I will never hurt you. I’m not that low life thug. I will never lie to you or make you feel uncomfortable. I respect you so much. Just give me a little trust, I promise you won't regret it,” he begs, his eyes full of love?

A knock on the trailer door interrupts the moment. “It’s Chucky, I brought by coffees for a morning wake up,” he explains happily.

I walk over to the door, opening it coming face to face with Chucky. “Thanks Chucky,” I take the two cups. “Do you mind letting Bishop know that I need to talk with him? He’s gonna wanna know I’m dating his prospect,” I look over to Ez smiling.

“Of course young love is beautiful, I hope to witness it myself one of these days.” Chucky sighs dreamily.

I peck his cheek, “You will Chucky. She’ll be one lucky woman,” I assure him.

Muscled arms snake around my stomach as Ez’s chest warms my back. “Chucky, y/n is gonna be late to clock in. I won't keep her for too long,” he kisses my temple.

“I love you Chucky, thank you!!” I squeal as Ez shuts the door and picks me up kissing me all over the face.

~End of Flashback~

My phone ringing brings me out of my haze. I answer it hearing the one man I didn’t want to contact. “Hey I’m calling from a pay phone, I think I left mine on your dresser. Any way I’ll be by to pick you up for the party tonight in a few minutes.”

I hold back from crying anymore, not wanting to show how hurt I am. “Don't worry about me, I’ll drive over by myself,” trying to keep my voice steady.

“Are you sure the house is on the way.”

On the way from where? Is what kills me. “I’m sure. I’ll see you there, bye.” I hung up before he could get another word in, not able to handle a longer conversation. Grabbing a duffle bag from the closet I pack every belonging of his. Erasing any sign of him from my home. As I fold the last of his shirts, his scent takes me in its embrace. I’m really going to miss him. Holding his shirt to my chest I hug it letting the last of my tears drip away.

After pulling myself together, I toss his stuff in my Jeep and head over to the club house. Chucky opens the gate and greets me. “Lovely night to let loose, huh y/n?”

I can’t help but always feel comfort from Chucky, he’s a true sweetheart. “Indeed Chucky. Make sure you get to enjoy the party a bit too.” I pat his arm before driving into the lot.

Hopping out, I head into the clubhouse to see Bishop playing a card game with Hank and Reaper. I greet the men hugging them one by one, leaving the last to be Bishop. “Can I talk to you in the temple?”

He nods a look of worry flashes across his face, “Of course mija. We’ll be back.” He tells Hank. We walk back to the temple, him taking a seat as I stand. “What’s wrong y/n? Did something happen?” He scopes out my face for any bruise or marks.

“Yes but it's not for you to worry about, Bish. Just letting you know I’ll be in Charming for the next couple of days.”

“Why are you leaving? Did the prospect do something to you?!” He starts to stand up to head toward the door.

I stop him shaking my head, “There is a job opening at the hospital there that I’ve been invited to try out. I think it’s a great opportunity for me since I’m back on my feet.” I explain leaving Ezekiel out of the situation.

“But that’s not the only reason. You look like you’ve been crying. What did the prospect do.” He demands an answer.

“Nothing that deals with the club. He didn’t touch me nor hurt me in any physical way. I can’t deal with being in a relationship, they don’t work well with me.” There’s no point in getting Ez into trouble with the club.

He gets up and embraces me, “If that’s what you want then I can’t stop you. Just make sure you’re doing it for you and not just running away.” He kisses the top of my head.

“I’ll call you when I get to Charming,” I pat his chest. “Please keep this between us, for now?” He nods his head in agreement. “Thank you for everything, El Presidente” I smile leaving him to head back to the Jeep. As I exit the club I come face to face with Ezekiel.

He smiles seeing that it’s me, “There you are hermosa,” he leans down to peck my lips. I step back avoiding the gesture. Confusion washes over him as I step around him to get to my car. He follows close behind, “Hey, wait up!” He grabs my arm only for me to yank away from him. “What’s wrong mi amor?” (my love)

“How was your run?” I steal my voice, staring at his brown orbs.

Worry taking over his emotions, “It was fine, everything went well. I’m okay.”

I scoff shaking my head at his lies. “Here,” pulling his phone out of my pocket and shoves it into his chest. “Emily has been messaging all day.”

Realization flashes through him, “wait baby no it’s not like that!” He tries to grab my hands.

“Don’t touch me. You lost the privilege the moment you decided to lie and sneak around. I don't want any part of your charades.” Tiredness heavy in my voice.

“Let me explain, please,” he pleads. “I didn’t cheat. I only helped her with a business issue,” he explains hurriedly.

“I don't need your explanation nor do I want it, Ezekiel. It’s not fair for you to live in your past, while you tell me to move on from my own. It’s hypocritical of you to think she loves you. Emily is a married woman, she loves Galindo, she’s moved on.” I sigh grabbing his duffle bag of belongings from my car dropping them at his feet. “At least I know I’m not the only stupid one in this relationship.”

“I don't love Emily, I love you, you are my everything. You make everyday worth it. I can’t lose you.”

“The problem, Ezekiel, is I don’t believe you. Your words are just that. Words. No meaning behind them. I’m not gonna give my time and trust to a man who doesn’t respect me. I’m done. It’s over. Don't contact me, don't go to my house.” I rush into the Jeep starting it and backing up out of the lot. The only thought is to drive away and don't look back. If I look, then I know I’ll turn and go back into his arms.

A/N: please feedback and let me know if there should be a part 2

[mxchowind]

So, sleep well

IJSFJDSG HI THIS IS REQUESTED BY ANON SO I DELIVER THIS 1K WORD(S)??? TO YOU RIGHT NOW FRESH AND HOT. also any suggestions if i hit 100 followers? *insert eye emoji* ALSO TYSM FOR THE SUPPORT AND KEEP THE REQUESTS COMING I’D LOVE TO WRITE FOR YOU GUYS!! TYSM FOR REQUESTING ANON

edit: bro i made so much typos i am cryi g

warning: lowkey angst lmao with xiao background reveal

pairing: xiao x reader

He remembers. 

He remembers vividly, the bloodshed screams of those people, the terror on their faces, and how they turn back to the soil of Liyue with grief. 

Xiao, no, Alatus remembers, the pain that is more than what a wound could cause, but the agony that strangled him, to his very last breath. It struck more than arrows do, and it broke him into pieces. 

Of course, he has forgotten how to rest, someone has to watch over Liyue, and that would always be him. To watch those people’s suffering, and cannot do a thing about it. He is always late, and when he arrives, it is naught but a show of death.

Xiao hates it.

The voices draining in his head, the wounds that would never heal, the war he still fights with himself. 

He’s exhausted.

So when his eyelids flutter open from such a nightmare of old memories, panic hits him. Where is he? Is he finally, going to lose his most important person- to lose you? The blood on his hands cannot be washed away, because he’s taken more lives than known, under the control of this one archon. He doesn’t deserve you, in any ways. He knows, Xiao knows, he is nothing but a monster,  a weapon, a demon, a-

‘‘Xiao?’’

Oh.

It is then he realises that he’s kneeling on the top ground of Wangshu Inn, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead. Was it really that bad of a nightmare? But while his train of thoughts progresses you hurriedly approach him, kneeling down all the same and his amber eyes- the ones that hold emotions, that hold the entire Liyue, trails to you. 

When you touch him, it feels surreal. Are you even real? He wonders. It hurts his head to think, all over his mess of a form, Xiao struggles to stand up, and desperately wishes to hold on tight to your hand- the very own hand of yours that leaves his cheek in a split second. He thought, for so long, he yearned for your warmth, and he wants to-

‘‘Xiao, are you feeling alright? Is it a fever? Or those memories again?’’

He, honestly, isn’t sure at this point. His head feels light, as if the world around him is ready to blur in shades of royal blue and tints of yellow. To think, such a mighty Yaksha would have days like this. When you stand, his gentle voice trembles as he speak, 

‘‘Don’t go anywhere, not yet.’’

It’s a plea, Xiao can’t shake the pain away, so he resorts back to your heart, back to you, who truly is there always, first and foremost. You bend down, and hold onto his hand, tight. 

‘‘I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry. If you like, tell me about it.’’

In all honesty, Xiao never confided in you about his past- it’s terrible. It’s gruesome, it’s nothing you, someone so innocent, should hear about. He wrestles his own mind, and fails to keep you safe from those demons everytime, in his dreams. No doubt, he used to eat dreams, after all, and he’s finally paying his price.

Not even Rex Lapis could save him.

So he explains. Those blood, those people who died in his vision, the heavy burden he carries, the memories engraved in his mind that cannot be erased, the prayers they recite for him to rescue- 

It’s simply too much. 

It is surprising, and you are at once, glad yet sorrowful that Xiao finally opened up. You have never seen him- this vulnerable. You know he shouldn’t, and doesn’t want to show it to anyone, so he hides. He hides his own thoughts, those dreadful memories that haunt him like the very death of the other Yakshas, everything. 

You didn’t know, of course. You knew nothing because Xiao was so good at hiding. His pretence was so strong, and held his head high as the only remaining Adepti. His pain was more than someone could ever maintain, and to think- 

He endured all of this by himself.

It’s so late in the night, stars glitter and shine upon your figure. When Xiao gazes at you, his breath hitches in his throat. You look like the Moon Goddess. Are you here to finally save him? 

Yes, you are.

‘‘Xiao.. listen to me.’’ You start, eyes sincere with every bit of care laced in. He listens, amber eyes reflecting off the moonlight. He looks ethereal. Too daint that you fear he might just disappear into thin air if you don’t grasp properly. So your lithe hands move onto his, those hands that are sheathed away from the harsh gloves, from the battles he fought bravely. You remove the gloves in a gentle motion, and press a kiss on his hand. It feels so soft, yet the calluses from using his polearm remain. It’s his battle proof, he’s done well. 

‘‘I love you. Every part of you. How you went ever so bravely against enemies both in the dark and the daylight. I love your hands,’’ you stop abruptly, before caressing those hands, ‘‘They are the proof that you exist, that you fought with evil beings to keep Liyue safe. I love your hair,’’ as you seize a strand, his eyes quivering like a scared mortal who is finally all battered, no more of the suffering bottling up inside, ‘‘They are of a unique colour, and it’s engraved in my mind. I love you, I love you so much. No matter what happened in the past, or what will happen in the future, even if no one forgives you, I will. Liyue is, truly blessed to have an Adeptus like you, dedicated to his duties. So please, rest easy. The stars are singing of praises, close your eyes and listen.’’

For the first time, he doesn’t retort back, because your words bring such comfort upon his beaten mind and heart. It works like magic, and in an instant he hears the stars, the words they whisper to him. The same words you used. 

‘‘The moon is guiding your path, so don’t be afraid. You won’t get lost anymore. And what is more? I’m here. Right here, and I won’t leave. Sleep well, my dear.’’

Those words lull him to the ceasing vision, and all of a sudden these thoughts, the memories disappeared into nothingness. The soft wind brushing past his jade-coloured hair, and his eyelids flutter close in a subtle way. Your hand still remains on his ungloved ones, the lenient night whispering its melodies to the skies and beyond, as you press a final kiss on his forehead, where the lilac diamond mark is.

‘‘Goodnight, my hero.’’