#so I have to emotionally scar him clearly

[jangmo-othewarrior]

Hi. I was just wondering, in your DR corruption au, what Taka's corrupted form(s) are. You mentioned the forms being unrecognisable and him seeing his dad again but, if he didn't talk, would his dad recognise him?

I always imagined his corrupted forms being bird-like but I wanted to know what your initial idea was.

Hey thanks for the ask!

Bird elements are pretty fun, but my original idea was actually something more similar to a wingless bat that can latch onto walls. He's extremely fast, and has some claw-spikes sticking out of his hands. His Stage 5 has more spikes sticking out of places that actively hinder him, representing the stress of the situation piercing through his shiny exterior. He's also of course white with the red eyes in Stage 5 as well.

But even with the whole wingless bat thing happening, Taka's dad would still recognize his eyes.

[vonkarma2]

ultimately my enjoyment is hampered because it is low key sexist bc it takes place in an alternate universe where Sigmund Freud is real. though I did still like it for the most part but I hate Sigmund Freudddd Utena better

[ellecdc]

What about the kids (CBBH) seeing the ‘mudblood’ scar on Vix arm for the first time, and then the kids, specially Draco, trying to comfort her.

James and Sirius feeling guilty again because (James) “abandoned” her (no he didn’t) and (Sirius) cause he couldn’t protect her

Thank you so much, feel free to ignore it if you want to, but thank you anyway

Take care and don’t forget to drink water❤️

Ps: I love everything you write, thank you so much for providing us those precious chapters

*Takes a big ol' sip of water* *Cracks knuckles* *types furiously*

I LOVE these kinds of requests...I love diving deeper into the relationships and the histories further than what CBBH covered, so thank you for giving me the opportunity to write this! 🫶

CBBH Sirius Black x Vix!reader CW: hurt/comfort, discussions of war, PTSD, trauma, guilt, reference to death of a loved one, children, spoiler alerts if you haven't finished CBBH

The Mind Forgets but the Heart Doesn't

It had been a really trying week. 

Percy and the Twins had gotten into it during class one day this week at Potter Manor, and though James and Molly did what they could to placate the situation when it happened, it seemed to bleed out into the other kids as well.

Harry and Draco didn’t seem to be able to agree on anything at all anymore, Jasmine felt the need to play mediator to their squabbles which just aggravated everyone further, and Aurora was far too sensitive for her own good and took everything anyone said personally.

The adults didn’t seem to be fairing much better either.

You and Lily were expecting at the same time. It was very funny when Lily & James went to announce that they were expecting only to have Y/N & Sirius laugh and say ‘same’. Remus never stopped joking that the family would finally have a ‘set of twins’. 

Lily stopped taking the jokes so well as her pregnancy progressed, however.

“This is absolutely, without a doubt, the last one Potter!” She screeched as she excused herself from the dinner table for the sixth time to pee.

You were such a trooper, but Sirius knew that this pregnancy was taking far more out of you both emotionally and physically than your last one had.

The part that hurt (everyone) the most, was that your brain still associated pain and discomfort with your trauma from the war, and the wounds felt far more fresh lately than they had in a long time.

This left both James and Sirius feeling horribly guilty – James for having left you on the battlefield, and Sirius both for being the cause of your current discomfort and for the months during the war that he spent wallowing when he should have been fighting for you.

Sirius would wake up in the middle of the night and reach for you to find the bed empty. He’d go to check both Aurora and Draco’s room’s first before moving on to the rest of the house.

One particularly upsetting night he found you hiding in the shower after you had a distressing and disturbingly realistic nightmare.

But usually, he found you in the kitchens.

“What are you doing up, my love?” He spoke quietly into the room.

You must have heard him coming because you never even turned your head from where you were sitting; you just offered him a quiet hum in response as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and nuzzled his face into your neck.

His hands would migrate lower to what was usually the reason for your midnight wanders.

“Little one hungry?”

You were quiet for a moment, clearly far away from Potter Manor, before you responded.

“There were times I was only ever able to eat at night... when someone could sneak something to me or I could sneak to the kitchens. But sometimes, now, I wake up a little hungry – and my heart tells me that this is going to be my only chance, and I have to make it count. I tell myself it’s not true but... the anxiety doesn’t go away until I do something about it.”

Sure enough, in front of you on the table was a half-eaten granola bar; evidence of your late-night forage for food.

“What was it that Lily said about those muggle dementia patients?” Sirius asked you as he rubbed up and down your arms.

“The mind forgets but the heart doesn’t.” You responded quietly.

Sirius hummed into your hair as he pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“You’ve done so much work, love. But I don’t think you’ll ever be able to convince your heart to let it go – not fully.”

You sighed miserably, suddenly sounding very close to tears.

“Please be patient with yourself.” He pleaded.

“I’m trying.” You whispered wetly.

“I know, baby. I know.”

This was why the following morning at the breakfast table when Harry – seemingly out of nowhere – asked what a “mudblood” was, the room fell painfully silent.

The adults all seemed to share horrified glances before Regulus spoke up.

“Where did you hear that word, Harry?”

Harry, slightly ashamed now that he seemed to have sucked the air out of the room, looked at you and motioned towards your arm.

Sure enough, as you had reached across the table to pass Remus the plate of bacon, your sleeve had ridden up and your scar was on full display.

Why’d we teach these ankle biters to read? Sirius wondered to himself.

To Sirius’ absolute horror, you seemed to completely shut down. You hastily pulled your sleeve down and moved your arms into your lap, and your eyes turned foggy. 

“Please don’t occlude baby, stay with us.” Sirius begged quietly as he began to rub your arm.

“Haz, when you and Draco were very little, there was a war – do you remember me and daddy telling you about it?” Lily started cautiously.

“Uh huh, when the bad guy hated people who were different and stole Auntie Vix?”

James grimaced before confirming. “Yes, and how Uncle Reggie and Draco’s mummy Narcissa helped her escape and then defeat the bad guy.” 

“Well, the bad guy and his friends did hate people who were different than them. Mostly, they hated non-magical people,” Lily continued.

“Called muggles.” Harry interjected proudly.

“Right, he hated muggles. And he hated muggle-born witches and wizards as well.” James finished.

“But...mummy and Aunt Lily are muggle-born...” Draco added quietly from his place.

James nodded. “That’s right. And because they hated them, they made up a bad word to call muggle-born’s.”

“That’s what mudblood is, Harry. It’s a bad word to call a muggle-born witch or wizard.” Regulus spoke softly.

Jasmine gasped. “Mum! Did Harry say a bad word!?”

“I was only asking a question!” Harry screeched in his own defence.

“But... why is the bad word on your arm?” Draco asked quietly, looking at you.

Your son addressing you directly seemed to pull you out of yourself a little as you offered him a sad smile. “Well, when the bad guy stole me, I wouldn’t tell him what they wanted to know.”

“What did the bad guy want to know?” Jasmine asked curiously. 

Harry elbowed his sister for interrupting, which earned him a whack on the head in return, which caused Remus to switch seats with his niece in an effort to keep the peace.

“They wanted to know where your mummy and daddy and Harry were. They also wanted to know where Pads and Moony and everyone else in the Order were.” 

“Like the Weasley’s!?” Harry asked in horror, as news of your best friend potentially being on some maniac’s hitlist would do to an almost nine-year-old, even though said maniac was already after him and his entire family.

“But you wouldn’t tell them.” Jasmine stated solemnly.

You nodded at your niece. “That’s right.”

“But why was my mum and Uncle Reggie there?” Draco asked. 

You and Sirius both grimaced as you looked to Regulus, whose jaw seemed more tense than usual. 

“Our family comes from a long line of very bad people, Draco. The Black’s...mine and your dad’s family, as well as your mums, were not kind to people who were different from them. They supported the bad guy during the war, I-”

“But dad didn’t support the bad guy...and he’s a Black.” Draco interrupted as he turned to look at his father pleadingly.

Sirius smiled softly at the boy. “Yes, but you see, Draco, I had friends like Uncle Prongs and Uncle Moony, and your mum here, who taught me that it was okay to be different. And Uncle Prongs’ family also gave me a place to go when I no longer agreed or felt safe with my family. Uncle Reggie didn’t have the same kind of friends.” 

“Your friends were bad guys?” Harry asked plainly.

“Yes.” Regulus answered just as plainly. 

“So...my family was...bad?” Draco asked quietly, looking between you, Sirius, and Regulus.

“Not all of them baby, not Uncle Reggie, and not your mum.” You tried to placate, but Draco didn’t bite.

“But they were there! Supporting the bad guy! That makes them bad!” He insisted.

“No, it made us cowards.” Regulus corrected the boy. “I was too afraid to ask your dad or his friends for help, even though I knew that Sirius would take me in if I asked him to. And your mum did what was expected of her, Draco. Your mum believed marrying your dad and having you was the right thing to do.”

“Draco,” you said quietly as the boy tried to fight back tears. “If your mum and Uncle Reggie hadn’t been there, I would not be alive today. And quite frankly, I think that could be the same for a lot of us in this room. They saved us, baby. Your mummy saved you. There’s nothing bad about that.”

Draco still seemed perturbed by this but looked back down to your now hidden scar.

“But someone...hurt you? With that word? Was it my family?”

You shared a look with Sirius who offered you a small nod before you answered. “It was. It was your aunt...your mum’s sister.”

Draco seemed distraught at the news; his mouth turned down miserably and his eyes filled with tears. “My family was bad.”

“Dad, was my family bad!?” Harry asked severely. 

“Haz, hang on, okay bubs?” James asked quietly. 

“That’s right Draco, your family was bad.” You said.

Every head – child and adult alike – whipped to face you.

“They were bad people...but they’re not anymore. Your family is the people in this room, and your mum who died protecting you. You have Uncle Reggie, who was so brave to save me and to turn against the bad guy he was supposed to be loyal to. You have Uncle Moony, who despite doing very hard things every month, doesn’t ask anything of anyone and gives so much of himself to the people he loves. And you have Uncle Prongs and Aunt Lily, who helped us raise you when daddy and I had no idea what we were doing. And you have Haz, and Jazzy, and Rory and two new siblings coming soon. That’s your family, Draco, and they’re not bad at all.”

Draco scanned the room of all the people he loved the most as a few tears fell, and Sirius was quick to catch them with his finger from his place beside him. 

“I’m sorry the bad guys hurt you, mummy. I wish they hadn’t.” He offered finally.

“Oh! I know!” Aurora piped up out of nowhere (Sirius actually sort of forgot his own daughter was present at the breakfast table) and quickly stood from her seat to hurry away. 

Before the adults had time to ponder where the child had gone, she reappeared beside her mum with the first aid kit from one of the loos and her toy Mediwitch Kit. 

“Okay, mummy. Show Healer Ro where it hurts.” She demanded you in her most authoritative tone, which still sounded far too much like Alvin the Chipmunk to be taken at all seriously.

Sirius grinned down at his girl and pulled her up into his lap (for better access, of course) as you pulled your sleeve up on your arm to expose your scar.

Aurora tapped a fake wand to the injury and held a stethoscope to her ear. “It sounds good mummy; means you’ll be fine.”

“Oh, good.” You sighed in faux relief, failing to bite back the proud smile adorning your face.

“Yup, now just needs plasters. I have some golden snitches, unicorns, or bowtruckles, mummy. Which would you like?”

“I think she ought to have some of each, Ro.” Harry interjected from across the room.

“Quite right, Haz. Healer Ro, could you use some assistance with the plasters?” Sirius asked like a spokesman on a game show.

“Yes sir!” She answered, and each kid took turns applying plasters to your scar and kissing it better.

“Looks better already!” Jasmine cheered after their work was complete.

“Hmmmm...I don’t know...” Sirius said skeptically. “Could use a few more kisses I think.” Before he attacked you with kisses, and the kids followed in suit shortly after.

@ttulipwritezz

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello hope you're well 👍 I've read all you're Bi-han fics and I'm obsessed with how well you write him 💗 Can I request a continuation of the one where he's S/O got severely injured? Maybe after they healed they were left with lots of scars and every time Bi-han see them (whether in bed or when S/O clothes don't hide them ) he feels immense amounts of regret. Perhaps to close off this theme they could both talk about the situation with S/O reassuring Bi-han that it happened once and never again . Sorry if this is too long or if it's too angsty feel free to dismiss it if you're uncomfortable with the prompt 👍

I’m doing well and thank you for reading my stuff for I was certain that like half of it were shoddy due to character inaccuracies 😂 but at least I’m doing something right!

Part 1

‘I can feel you staring Bi-Han.’ You stated and you couldn’t find it within yourself to hold it against him. After finally waking up from your comatose, the first thing you saw as the bandages were taken off was scars of every kind imaginable; Some were crisscrossed with others whilst others took up an entire limb. There was no denying that you could have died in the medbay that very same day you were brought in but no, you were extremely lucky to even have been able to wake up from all that.

You were blessed with another chance to live but none of that mattered to you, what did however was seeing Bi-Han at your bedside looking worse for wear. His silken raven black hair was disheveled and unkept compared to it’s usual style, his dark eyes were dull and lifeless, the dark bags underneath them only proved to further push this narrative of a man who hadn’t had a descent nights sleep in a long while. He looked so unlike the Bi-Han you knew that when you reached out to stroke back a couple of loose strands from his forehead, he was quick to firmly grab ahold of your wrist before looking at you, you could clearly see the hurt and the brokenness within them.

‘I could’ve been there,’ Bi-Han said his eyes would linger on the long, jagged scar that ran diagonally across your back, ‘no, had I known what I know now, I would’ve stopped you from going on that mission.’ The guilt was still eating him up from the inside it seemed and it absolutely broke your heart that he felt fully responsible, and yet in Bi-Han’s mind, he was and should be held responsible for your predicament. It didn’t make things better that whenever he saw the scars that were now a permanent part of your body, he was reminded that he failed you on all accounts and he swore to himself that he’d never let it happen again.

Even if that meant having to withhold you from participating in future missions for the foreseeable future, Bi-Han will do it. He just couldn’t go through all that. He had already emotionally destroyed himself from almost losing you, loosing valuable sleep in exchange for watching over you, and so on and so forth that he doesn’t think that he could do it again. For every time he closes his eyes, all he saw was you lying in the medbay almost lifeless, it continued to haunt him well after you were dismissed by the medics, leaving him to determine whether or not you were fit to head back out there.

You were quick to slip on your night shirt before joining Bi-Han in bed and reaching across to hold his hands without your own, brushing your thumb across his knuckles reassuringly. ‘Don’t do this to yourself Bi-Han.’ You started. ‘You didn’t know and you shouldn’t hold it over yourself either, it’s not healthy and you’ll end up running yourself into the ground with guilt that isn’t yours to begin with.’ You gripped Bi-Han’s hand tighter as you cradled it to your chest, pressing gentle kisses into his skin, in hopes of assuring him that you were with him and not some figment of his imagination. ‘I don’t to have the heart to watch you tear yourself apart. I was hurt, yes, but here I am. You can feel my hand holding yours, you can feel my body warmth and you can see that I am breathing.’

You stopped your speech halfway to look Bi-Han deep in the eye and asked; ‘Isn’t that all the proof you need to know that I am alive? that I am flesh, blood and bone and nothing else?’ But when he said nothing and avert his dark and tired gaze from your own, you huffed and hauled yourself into his lap, grabbing ahold of his face between you hands, whilst his hands immediately went straight to your waist as though it were routine for them. ‘Look at me.’ You say softly but revived nothing, not even a glance and it hurt. ‘Bi-Han I want you to look at me!’ You then exclaimed, causing him to look at you and not through you like he has been during these past couple of days as though you were a ghost.

‘This won’t happen ever again.’ You told him firmly, pressing your head against his, feeling him sigh as he relaxed within your touch; feeling confident in the fact that you weren’t going to up and disappear on him like his mind had made him believe. ‘How can you be so certain that this won’t be echoed later on.’ Bi-Han finally said. You smiled softly. ‘I can’t but you’ll just have to put your trust in me that it won’t.’ You knew that wasn’t the answer Bi-Han was looking for, but with the way he was holding you against him as though trying to meld you against him. ‘I’ll hold you to your word, but until then you’re under my supervision until further notice.’ He said against your lips that widened into a smile as you cuddled yourself further into his chest as sleep began to invade.

‘You say that like that’s a bad thing.’ You cheeked and you were certain that you heard him let out a chuckle. He was healing, healing slowly yes, but that was enough of a start for you.

[ninii-winchester]

Unveiled Sorrows (Part 9)

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader, Sam Winchester X Reader (platonic)

Word count: 4k

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, mentions of sex, Taylor Swift reference (?)

A/n : This series follows canon plot line but some scenes might happen differently or be completely changed. Check the warnings for each part before continuing

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

The drive back home was quiet. Dean was apprehensive about going back to the house but Y/n had put her foot down and told him she'd spend the night in the car than let Adeline anywhere near Samuel. She didn't trust him anymore.

"Uhm I only have one guest bedroom." Y/n said entering the house. Sam and Dean trailing in behind her.

"I'll stay here." Sam said pointing to couch on the living room. "The doors broken and I'm not sleepy anyway."

"I don't need the room either." Dean said looking at Adeline. "I'll grab a chair for your room. I need to make sure you two are safe." Y/n didn't argue. She was too tired.

"Can you watch her while I clean up?" She asked Dean who nodded taking Adeline from her arms. The little baby was already off to dreamland.

The two brothers sat beside each other, Dean was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Sam got up and grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge handing one to his brother.

"We need to talk." Sam said sitting back down. Dean looked at his brother wondering what he wants. "What more do you need to make up your mind?" Sam asked his older brother. He seemed angry.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Dean said making Sam want to punch his face.

"I could punch you right now." Sam glared at him.

Dean's phone rang in his pocket and he tried to fish it out from his pocket so the ringing doesn't wake Addy. He pulled out his phone saw the caller ID.

"It's Lisa, could you hold her for me?" Sam rolled his eyes and took his niece from him. Dean walked a few steps away and then answered the phone.

"Hey, uh everything okay?"

"You tell me, Dean, are you okay? You said you'd be back by morning." Lisa asked softly.

"Yeah we uh... kinda ran into trouble." Dean replied vaguely.

"Are you okay? Who's we?" Lisa was worried.

"Me, Sam, Y/n and Adeline."

"Y/n and Adeline? Are they okay? What happened?"

"They're okay...now. Sam and I we got here in time."

"Dean." Lisa sighed.

"What?"

"You're an idiot, you know that?"

"Yeah I'm aware but it'd be nice if you'd elaborate." He chuckled.

"You're being an idiot, you're suffering and you're making them suffer. They're your family, they need you. And you need them just as much."

"Lisa.." Dean started but she interrupted him

"Dean, Adeline needs her father, i know how y/n feels, its hard watching your child grow up without a father, nobody would know better than me." She spoke softly as if talking to a child. "Think about Addy, Dean. It'll scar her for life knowing her father didn't choose her, when he clearly had a choice." Dean turned and watched his daughter sleeping in his brother's arms. The line went silent for a few seconds when she called his name.

"Yeah I hear ya."

"Think about Y/n, she loves you, you're crazy about her. I know what you're doing, Dean. You're deflecting, running away. It's not going to get you anywhere." Dean sighed knowing she's right. "Ben and I are safe Dean. You made us move, we started a new life, we're happy. its about time you do the same. Chase your happiness."

"You're right I guess." Dean let out a breath. "I don't know what to say."

"You could say thanks." He could hear the smile in her in her tone. "And do all of us a favour and stay there."

"Yeah, thanks Lisa." He smiled and hung up.

He walked back towards Sam, and huffed while plopping down beside him.

"What's up?"

"Uh Lisa kinda kicked me out." Sam gave him a bitch face which clearly said, im-not-in-the-mood-for-your-shit. "Well she told me I'm an idiot who's making everyone's life miserable."

"I'm not sure she said that but I totally agree with her." Sam replied.

Before Dean could reply Y/n emerged from the hallway into the living room, she looked fresh but tired. Her hair was wet and she was wearing a loose t shirt and some shorts.

"I'll take her." She said gesturing towards Adeline. "Sam, some of your clothes are in the guest bedroom, you can freshen up." The aforementioned man nodded and looked at his brother with a we'll-talk-later look. She watched Sam leave and turned to Dean. "You can use my bathroom, if you want. I'll order something."

"I'll wait till Sam comes back. Not leaving you here alone." Dean replied watching her as she ordered food.

After Sam came back, Dean went to shower, he didn't have his clothes with him so he had to make good with Sam's clothes. Which were a bit oversized for him. After dinner Sam promised he'd clean up and insisted Y/n retire to her room. Adeline was sleeping soundly in her crib.

"I'll be there in a minute." Dean called out behind her, feeing the need to reassure her. God knows she needs it. She nodded and left wordlessly.

"So what exactly did Lisa say?" Dean filled Sam in with conversation he had with Lisa earlier.

"I don't know how someone like you ends up bagging such wise women." Sam wondered out loud. Dean glared at his younger brother but didn't comment on it. "So what you gonna do?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"You want to me to go in there and tell her that the woman I lived with kicked me out so I need her back?" Sam swore he could throttle his brother and he even moved his hands to wrap around his neck but stopped himself.

"Is that how it is?" Sam asked and Dean immediately shook his head. "Then her exactly how it is! You idiot." Sam rubbed his hand over his face. His brother might be a genius when it comes to monsters but he's a nutjob when it comes to feelings.

Y/n watched Dean's silhouette enter the room and drag a chair beside the bed. It was completely dark except for the moonlight peeking in through the window.

"You really don't have to." Her voice quiet in the dark, he stopped his actions as he heard her voice. "That chair would be uncomfortable. Get in the bed."

Dean didn't say anything but got under the covers beside her. Ten minutes passed in silence and again Y/n spoke up,

"Dean I'm trying to sleep." He looked at her in confusion.

"I'm not even doing anything." He replied.

"The cogs in your brain are too damn loud. Stop thinking." Y/n murmured. Dean sighed shifting on the bed. "Talk to me." She said propping her head on her elbow.

"It's.."

"Nothing." She completed. "I've heard that before." He peered up at her face, her expressions unreadable.

"I don't know where to start." Dean said staring at the ceiling.

"Whatever comes to mind." Dean took a deep breath before he spoke.

"I'm sorry." His eyes flickered to her face. She was patiently waiting for him to continue. "I am so sorry for being a mess. I..I ruined us, I was a coward. I'm sorry for hurting you. I know keep saying that, I keep trying to push you away because i want to you to be safe. I hate that I couldn't protect you or Addy." Dean felt himself tearing up.

"Dean, you keep pushing us away, why do you think its the only way? Maybe if you hadn't left we could've been safe. You could've protected us. You can't keep assuming you being with us is a bad thing unless you try, how bad could it actually be? I don't think anything could be worse than what happened today."

"I know that now, I just love you so much. I know I don't deserve to ask anything from you but if you could give me another chance, I'll spend the rest of my life proving to you how much I love you."

"What about-"

"They'll be fine." Dean answered before she could even ask. "I am done running, I want to own up to my mistakes. I wanna be with you, and Adeline, where ever you two are. I want to save you, from every bad thing out there."

"Dean, you don't need to save me," she whispered looking at him. "But would you run away with me?" She grinned at him. He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

He smiled at her. "We could do whatever you want, I'm okay with everything as long as you're mine. We could take it slow if you want."

"We've already wasted so much time. I don't want to take it slow. I know you're it for me." His gaze flickered from her eyes to her lips. He pressed his lips against hers, they just as soft as he remembered. Their lips clashed against each other, tongues fighting for dominance. She pushed herself up to straddle his waist but he pushed her back on the bed, hovering above her.

"As much as I want to," he breathed heavily. "You're hurt."

"Dean."

"Baby no. I promise I'll give you whatever you want but just heal for me first." She nodded and he pecked her lips laying beside her. "Sleep now." He placed a kiss on her forehead.

The events of the day finally caught up to her and she was drifting into deep slumber. The next morning she woke up she half expected the bed to be empty but when she opened her eyes, she was met with bright green eyes already looking at her.

"Good morning." Dean smiled.

"Morning." She snuggled closer to him. She was more relieved than she'd like to admit.

"You sleep good?" She hummed in response wrapping her arms around his torso. He chuckled pulling her closer.  It was suspiciously quiet and Y/n wondered how Addy hadn't woken up yet or in the middle of the night. She shot up her position on the bed and winced when she felt pressure on her stitches.

"Hey what's wrong?" Dean asked. She didn't answer and walked towards the crib which was empty.

"Dean, Addy." She gasped, tears brimming her eyes.

"Baby calm down, Sam has her." Dean told her and she walked out of the room sighing in relief when she saw her daughter sitting on Sam's chest and slapping his face with quite force if she may say so. "See she's okay." Dean said wrapping his arms around her from behind. She nodded relaxing in his arms. She turned her face to kiss him and he didn't hesitate to kiss back.

"Are you two always going to be this gross from now on?" Sam's voice made them pull away.

"Yes." Y/n replied.

"I'll go make breakfast." Dean said walking into the kitchen but Y/n pulled him back and kissed him, tongue and all. Sam made puking noises. They pulled away and Y/n smirked at Sam and he rolled his eyes at her.

"I think Addy and I should go to the park. I don't want to sit here and watch cheap porno." Sam sassed.

"Aren't you brutal these days, Sammy." Y/n pouted at her best friend.

"He actually is." Dean yelled from the kitchen.

"What so now you two are going to gang up on me?" Sam scoffed playfully.

"No, but Sam something is weird about you. And no I'm not talking about your height." Y/n replied with a smirk.

"Try being surrounded by dumbasses all the time." Sam retorted. "I am just tired." He rubbed his face, still holding Adeline firmly. "Do me a favour and pack your stuff." Sam added.

"What for?"

"You're not staying here, not anymore." Dean said coming out of the kitchen. "Breakfast's ready."

The three of them walked inside the kitchen where Dean has sit up food on the counter. Coffee, waffles and eggs. Sam poured himself as cup of coffee, Adeline still in arms who was now biting and drooling over his shoulder.

"And who decided that?" Y/n asked taking a sip of her coffee.

"We did." Sam shrugged.

"Sam we've had this conversation before, I told you Addy isn't going to grow up in this life. I want her to be normal. I am out for good." Y/n said with a scowl on her face.

"And that's how it's going to be." Dean replied. "Just not here, we'll find a new place for us. You're out and no one's dragging you back, I promise." He added softly.

"I liked this place." She pouted. Dean let out a laugh and kissed her pouty lips.

"We'll find an even better place, okay?"

"One moment of peace." Sam hissed. "Is all I ask for."

"Suck it up, buttercup." Y/n teased.

"Cmon Addy, let's go somewhere we're loved." Sam said to the baby who just stared at her uncle.

"Aye gigantor, give me my baby." She said making grabby hands towards him. He rolled his eyes but place Addy in her arms nonetheless.

"By the way... I forgot to ask." Sam started. "Why were you half naked when we found you?"

Y/n choked on her waffle and avoided looking at either of the men.

"You okay?" Dean asked handing her a glass of water. She took it gratefully and nodded. Sam raised his brow at her and she wanted to murder him right there.

"Uhm you see the moment he came here I knew he was a shifter."

"How?" Dean asked.

"Because he came in as Sam and i had just gotten of the phone with him and Sam told me there's shifter in town collecting his babies." Y/n replied making the other to nod, urging her to go on. "I assumed he didn't know the relationship between us, he just came here because he saw you coming here so I thought..." she trailed off awkwardly.

"You thought that you'd seduce him." Sam replied with a grin, ready to tease the wits out of her. She glared at him in return.

"Hey, not my fault the XY chromosome is stupid like that, be it a monster or human. I took my top off he got distracted enough for me to stab him." Y/n replied defensively. The two men laughed at her words.

"That might actually be true." Dean added shaking his head.

After breakfast the three of them packed all of y/n and Adeline's things and stuffed it into Sam's car. They had Sam run to store and get a carseat for Adeline since y/n didn't have a car and never needed one. After strapping in they drove to their destination. But had to make a quick stop at Lisa's to get Dean's stuff and obviously his other other baby, The Impala. It was quick but a pleasant meeting.

"Oooh I missed baby." Y/n said walking over to the Impala and sitting in passenger's seat.

"Hm she missed you too." Dean replied getting behind the wheel after strapping in Adeline. "I've got three of my best girls here, aint I a lucky man?" Dean marvelled at the sight.

"Even after years, I'm still competing with a car." Y/n sighed playfully.

"There's competition, sweetheart." Dean looked at her lovingly. "No one can take baby's place." He added playfully.

"Dean Winchester, you're annoying" She swatted his arm lightly. He pulled her in a for a kiss.

"Don't worry baby you're my number one." He mumbled against her lips. The ringing of Dean's phone made them pull apart.

"Are you two done making out in the car because I'd like to get there before dark." Dean heard Sam's irritated voice from the phone. He just chuckled, hanging up he revved the engine to life and they drove off.

A knock of the door made Bobby look up from the book he was reading. He wasn't expecting anyone so he grabbed his gun before walking towards the door. He aimed the gun and then opened the door. He rolled his eyes and put the gun on the table beside the door. It was Sam and Dean.

The old man went back inside and the other two followed. Y/n was hidden behind their tall frames so he didn't see her. The three of them went inside. Dean carried the carseat in which Adeline was napping.

"So what do i owe this pleasur-" Bobby stopped mid sentence as he saw y/n, a few cuts and bruises littered over her face.

"Heya Bobby." She hugged the old man.

"What happened?" He asked and they filled him in. "All that happened and you couldn't give me a call?" He said frustratedly. "Are you three ever going to let me live peacefully.?"

"I don't think so, no." Y/n chuckled. Sam and Dean nodded their head along with her comment.

"Oh dear, you're the only sane person in this family." Bobby said picking Adeline from her car seat.

"Yeah just about until she doesn't start walking on her own." Dean smirked. "Insanity is in the genes, Bobby." He added sarcastically.

"Out of my sight." The old man replied.

"Don't worry about that, we'll go house hunting tomorrow." Y/n said excitedly.

"What you didn't learn your lesson this time?" Bobby asked rolling his eyes.

"All I want is Addy to grow up in a normal house and a normal life and that's not gonna happen in a house filled with guns and thousands of lore books." Y/n said exasperatedly, gesturing to all the books around her.

Nobody spoke after, an unsaid agreement was made. The next morning y/n and Dean went to look for available houses. They agreed to stay in Sioux Falls, Dean insisted it's safer to be close to Bobby's, just in case something happens when he's away.

"I can't believe it." Y/n whispered as she and Dean signed the lease of their new house.

"Can't believe what?" Dean asked.

"This, us, all of it." She replied looking around the house.

"I know baby, feels surreal." He walked towards her and kissed her. "But this is us, now."

"Yeah. You think Sam will like it? And Addy?" Y/n asked him with hopeful eyes.

"They'll love it." He wrapped an arm around her.

A month after moving in their new house, it was peaceful. This was the closest to being normal Dean felt. He was being the most amazing boyfriend to y/n and even better father to Adeline. One morning Dean decided to wake his girl with kisses and breakfast in bed, y/n groaned pushing him away.

"Five more minutes, D." She mumbled. He hovered above her and peppered her face with kisses. She blinked her eyes open. "I could get used to this sight." She smirked dragging her nails across his bare chest. He chuckled as she pulled him down and purred in his ear, "I think you owe me something, now that I'm completely healed." Dean let out a laugh and nipped at her jaw and dragged his nose along the column of her neck, leaving soft kisses.

"DEAN." Sam burst into the room and the older brother jumped off of the bed. Y/n was clothed but still pulled the covers to her chest.

"Sam what the fuck?" Dean growled at his brother.

"Uh I found a case.." Sam replied sheepishly.

"You found a case.." y/n drawled and her eyes landed on the clock beside her bed. "It's six in the morning." She groaned.

"Yeah I had a long night." Sam replied. "People are dropping like flies, Dean. We have to go." His words held urgency and Dean sighed.

"Can't you wait for like two hours or something?" Dean asked irritation lacing his voice.

"Dean people are dying in really weird ways." Sam pressed.

"You should go." Y/n spoke from the bed.

"Baby.."

"Dean.." He shrugged in defeat.

"Alright I'll meet you by the car in 20." Dean said to Sam who nodded and left the room.

"You go get ready and I'll check on Addy." Y/n got up and pecked his lips pushing him towards the bathroom. She walked to the crib placed in they their room, she still wasn't comfortable leaving Addy alone in the nursery. She watched her sleep peacefully. A pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist and she melted into the embrace.

"You've been staring at her for like ten minutes, it's creepy, sweetheart." Dean murmured in her ear.

"Shut up and get your ass moving." She replied playfully. "I wanna lock the door and sleep some more."

"Too eager to get rid of me?" He smirked.

As if sensing her father's departure little Adeline woke up from her slumber and started wailing loudly. Dean immediately picked up his baby in his arms and hushed her while gently rocking her. "Daddy's angel woke up to say bye huh?" That didn't make Adeline feel any better and Dean didn't feel like going anymore. "Awe baby I'm sorry." He cooed. "What do you say we let Uncle Sammy go on his own?" Dean suggested.

"Dean.." y/n said in reprimanding tone. "I know it's hard but we'll be here when you get back, yeah?"

"Yeah." He nodded and kissed Adeline's head. "Daddy's gonna be back before you know it, be good for mommy okay angel?" Y/n took Adeline from him and followed out to the door. Dean opened the door and turned around, "you be safe. Anything happens you call me or head to Bobby's okay?"

"Yes don't worry about us and focus on the job, don't die okay?"

With one last kiss, Dean walked out of the door. Y/n waved at Sam who was impatiently waiting by the car. She closed the door and double locked it once they drove off.

The day went by just as how it goes usually. It was around nine pm when Dean called her. She answered the phone almost immediately, eagerly wanting to know all about the hunt. As Dean filled her in with all the adventures the brother's went through, she listened eagerly. She missed hunting, she missed the the feeling of adrenaline pumping through her veins but all above that she loved Adeline. And she wouldn't risk anything happening to her.

"I'm just glad you two are okay and the hunt went well." Y/n said as Dean finished speaking.

"Yeah. Can't wait to be back with you and Addy." He replied. He paused for a minute he spoke again. "Thank you, Sweetheart."

"For what Dean?"

"For giving my dumbass another chance. For putting up with me over the years. For loving me. I can't ever make up to you for hurting you how I did but-"

"Dean, it's all in the past. I forgave you. Even if it may be a little selfish on my part but I want you. I've always wanted you. So just forget about it." Y/n replied, assuring him that they're way past whatever happened.

"I don't care if you're being selfish, or if you want to use me. Just know that I'm your problem now." Dean chuckled. "I'm at your disposal. I love you."

"No chick flick moments, De." Y/n giggled over the phone and Dean rolled his eyes at her even if she couldn't see. "But I love you too. And I miss you too much, so hurry your ass back home." Dean let out a laugh at her commanding tone.

“I’ll be home soon. You take care of yourself. Kiss Adeline goodnight for me.” Dean replied before hanging up.

Things have finally changed. For better.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@suckitands33

[inoreuct]

horse girl zoro/prince sanji au that @redgitanako and i talked about way back when because it suddenly crossed my mind OKAY HERE WE GO

zoro’s a travelling bounty hunter with three horses. yes, three. don’t tell kitetsu and enma but wado’s his favourite

wado was kuina’s horse; when kuina died she was so sad because she didn’t get why kuina was gone and for a while zoro had to emotionally support a horse AND himself, but horses are smart creatures. wado understood by herself after a while. they don’t really talk about it.

on that note, zoro talks to his horses. people look at him like he’s a few crayons short of the whole pack but they don’t say anything because he looks scary as hell; built like a brick wall, one eye gone, gnarly scar across his chest and all

(they’ll never know that he’s having an argument with enma about buying supplies where one party is contributing in possibly-misinterpreted horse looks. the crayons aren’t missing— but it’s admittedly a little hard to prove they’re there, zoro, we can’t keep defending you like this)

sanji's the third prince of the kingdom that hires him; sora’s the queen, and his siblings are all decent other than regular sibling assholery. judge is on the run and they’ve made the collective decision that they want his head on a stick.

zoro expects sanji to be a stuck-up priss because he LOOKS like a stuck-up priss— look at his perfect hair. his clothes. his heeled boots and his stupid curly eyebrows

but NO. well, yes, sanji IS a little bit of a stuck-up priss but also, he’s good with horses?? wado takes to him like a DREAM and zoro's flabbergasted because anybody who has ever tried to coddle her other than zoro or kuina has gotten kicked in the head, but sanji's petting at her neck and cooing at her in baby-talk and she's licking sugar cubes and apple slices out of his palm. zoro feels so betrayed.

like of COURSE his horse had to take a liking to the boy he hates OF ALL PEOPLE.

(zoro. at this moment the horse is smarter than you. listen to her.)

reiju’s the princess here, but sanji’s the one who got all the magic-esque affinities. animals LOVE him. he would be a literal disney princess if not for the fact that he doesn’t love them back

like SQUIRREL. WHY ARE YOU SHITTING ALL OVER MY YARD. GO AWAY. WHY IS A DOG TRYING TO LICK MY HAIR. WHYYY IS THIS BIRD BRINGING ME STICKS ALL THE TIME. he’s trying to fall asleep. he hears a TSKTSKTSKTSKTSKTSKTSK. he sits up and gets right out of bed and starts yelling at the lizard on the ceiling.

he does have a pretty mare called maple, though! (and zoro can’t help but love her too; it’s a sign that the mosshead doesn’t clock until much, much later)

and then zoro comes into his life with his three horses and sanji yanks him in by the collar like "listen up, swordsman. i do not CARE how sweet your horses are. i do not CARE how— how— WHATEVER you are. if you stink up my stable i will make you sleep in it, are we clear?" and zoro just nods because he’s having a bit of a gay crisis

sanji is 1. pretty 2. entirely able to hold his own and 3. Wado Approved™ and zoro does NOT know how to deal. at all. he’s holding onto wado’s reins for dear life. he wonders if the same ultimatum would apply if he swapped out the word stable for bed and immediately wants to dunk himself into the horse trough.

meanwhile sanji isn’t spared at all. sora sits on her throne, one eyebrow raised as her son goes on and on about how "mother i hate the swordsman you hired. he's green. and ugly. like a troll. like an OGRE. his hands are too big. his boots are too shiny. his earrings are cute but only because i want them. his EVERYTHING smells like horse. he might as well be a horse with how strong he is, did you know how many hay bales he carried at once??" and she’s just like,,, "honey are you sure this is hate"

she certainly wouldn’t mind them being together. zoro is rough around the edges and does smell a bit like horse, admittedly, but he was clearly raised right— he’s respectful in his own gruff way and he does things with immense care. sora’s noticed. she knows her son well enough to know that he’s noticed, too.

one day sanji bumps into zoro on his way out of the baths and wow. okay. so he doesn’t smell like horse ALL the time and oh his hair is damp and there's a towel around his waist and he is very, very shirtless and sanji turns around in a panic and walks face-first into a pillar.

he watches zoro care for his horses, carefully brushing through their manes and coats as he speaks to them softly, and alright. maybe this guy isn’t all bad. animals, sanji has noticed, are brilliant judges of character; horses especially can be testy and temperamental, and they don’t hesitate to kick anybody they don’t like.

zoro’s horses love him, and it’s obvious. maple looks forward to the snacks he slips her when he thinks that nobody’s looking. that says a lot more about his character than anything else.

after a few days zoro has a solid plan down and sets out to find judge, and suddenly the stables are empty. sanji finds himself going out with maple more and more, exploring the woods around their forest to pass the time because he needs something to keep his mind occupied and there’s only so much he can cook. judge might be a piece of shit, but he’s also an evil genius, and sanji refuses to admit he’s worried even though he is.

and then zoro comes back with judge’s war helmet wrapped in a cloth, gore dripping off the bottom edge as he sets it at sora’s feet.

he’s a little banged up, tired as hell with a couple of scratches here and there— nothing serious, but sanji still drags him to the infirmary and cleans him up perhaps a little more emotionally than either of them had expected

he passes out for a good few days afterwards but sora invites him to stay for a little longer, a time frame that nobody specifies. zoro just kind of… doesn’t leave. it’s strange for him; he’s wandered, always. he gets antsy staying in one place for too long, but this blond prince that is strangely kind and gives back as good as he gets is really something else.

the days pass. they race and bicker and soon enough, all three of zoro’s horses have brass name plaques tacked above what are now their stalls. he had a room in the palace and a place at the dinner table. sanji’s hair has grown long, now, and neither of them talk about the way that zoro’s stay has become something that feels more permanent—

until zoro finally finds the balls to give sanji one of his earrings as a courting gift. it’s the first one of many, but at that moment sanji just looks at it wide-eyed and zoro starts to shrink back all like "if you. don't want it that's alright. i'll get you something new, something else—" because look, he knows he’s not much. he has money, but not enough to give sanji something really nice. not enough to get something that’s more impressive than all the jewels and gold that the prince could have at a whim. he’s a bounty hunter that came from dirt and this earring is the most precious thing he has to offer, but he understands if—

sanji kisses him. yells something borderline incoherent along the lines of about fucking time as he shakes zoro by the shoulders, but he’s smiling very brightly and he’s very beautiful and zoro has a feeling they're going to be just fine.

(sora and the siblings breathe a collective sigh of relief, because the pining looks and dejected sighing were really getting a little ridiculous.)

(they speak too soon. after they get together it somehow gets WORSE.)

this was a ride… (get it. get it.) okay i’ll stop HOPE YOU ENJOYED HEH i know a lot of places are having a flu season/covid wave going around rn so make sure to hydrate and eat well!! muaks 😽

[lisafrankenstan]

As much as I love the relationship between Lisa and the creature, I wanted to think about what it looked like to interpret this movie less literally, and instead, through a lens of someone dissociating and reclaiming their agency through action after severe trauma and alienation.

It’s on the long side, but I’m having fun using my brain again for the first time in ages, so let me know what you think! Totally open to different interpretations; the beauty of art is that it isn’t finished until we witness it and it can mean different things to everyone.

Spoilers under the cut (I’m learning how to use this site, slowly!)

Lisa is introduced to us as quiet, unsure, awkward. Her initial movements while getting ready for the party are even stilted, and in the car she’s very quiet and dreamy-sounding. This is not a person who moves through the world fully in her body. When she talks about not wanting anyone to be forgotten, she’s clearly talking about herself and her mother, because the current familial situation was rushed, even when described by Taffy, its most avid proponent.

Her interactions at the party are negative - Tamara embarrasses her in front of Michael and then drugs her, Doug acts protective but then assaults her *as she talks about her dead mother,* sending her into a horrific trip.

Directly after she stumbles through the graveyard to the headstone and said she wishes she was with Creature, the lightning strike happens — right as she breaks the mirror, fracturing her consciousness.

The dream sequence shows gum, sticking dream!Lisa in her silent film form (selective mutism) to a stone shaped like a person - impenetrable and impossible to kill because he’s already dead.

When the Creature appears, he’s been buried, he’s rotted and falling apart. The song from the dream (Strange by Galaxie 500) plays as she speaks with him against her better judgment. She’s externalized everything about herself that feels damaged and unlovable -the literal scars and decay, the silence, and the violence. He hands her mom’s rosary back to her - indicating his connection to her trauma.

She remarks on how she hasn’t spoken this much in ages, and immediately starts nurturing him in the way no one nurtures her. The dress-up montage is, albeit a silly send up, an addressing of her loss of identity. She stores him in a closet decorated with a famous silent film still from Trip to the Moon (1902) done in glow-in-the-dark, signifying things she hasn’t explored yet but stays aware of, and she’s still trying to maintain that barrier.

The outfit he chooses for her is dark, powerful, and commanding, unlike her other articles.

Janet’s outburst and threat signify a paradigm shift from her perceiving herself as alienated to seeing herself as predated.

She appears shocked at Janet’s death, but embraces it fully after being soothed for a moment. Each death opens her up more - expressively AND emotionally. She dances with the creature made whole, and that’s the first time we hear her laugh open-throated. She’s fully chosen to stop hating herself and place the blame externally, shown when she justifies the events to Creature and the talk after the ‘massage.’

Her attitude shifts, adopting a braggadocio and her hair becomes more and more uncontrolled with her ego, and flowier, darker fabrics are used until the marriage/love scene with Creature - as they are made one, she is in a white shift and made pure by her imminent death.

[unvsannvs]

Okay, I was hit with a wave of realization on my rewatch of this whole scene.

Intense House MD finale analysis below the cut!

House is pissed at Wilson, but then looks at his Vicodin in his hand, giving the most hurt, distraught face I’ve ever seen as he remembers the torture that he and Wilson endured, recalling his trembling hand easing that same pain medication into Wilson’s mouth; House remembered the whole night, and most likely that particular scene, as Wilson begs for morphine, yet could only be supplied those shitty pills. Ultimately, this harsh reminder makes House decide to let Wilson do what he wants; out of guilt, out of understanding, so be it (I’ll explain what I believe it is in a minute.)

On top of this, it transitions from House looking up with that face, sighing shakily, to Wilson, alone in his dim and hollow kitchen, clearly thinking about House as well. It transitions to House again, playing the piano, and glancing up, immediately going back to Wilson, to demonstrate how they are both overthinking their entire lives with each other at the same time. As Wilson goes to grab a drink, this reveals he is thinking of House in a bad light: he’s still pissed at House and he’s looking to repress it through drinking, just as House was pissed at him before making his decision in that recent clip with the Vicodin. But, seeing the Oreos, and being hit with a wave of fondness (his weakness), Wilson then decides to let House have what he wants.

Essentially, their parallel scenes here demonstrate both House and Wilson making their switch in choice to value the other persons needs above all else, and worst of all, they both are persuaded by the one thing that has defined and attracted their characters to each other from the start: House’s misery and recollection of his worst past time with Wilson from seeing his Vicodin persuades him to change his mind for Wilson’s sake, while Wilson’s fondness and recollection of his best past times with House from seeing the Oreos causes him to sacrifice his last decision for House’s sake.

Yeah, that casually slapped me in my noggin. I think I have a scar. Now, you can assume from this new angle of information what you will, but House could have changed his mind for countless reasons.

One idea is that Wilson making this life and death decision for House instead of himself causes House too much grief (House spent a whole episode about furniture trying to get Wilson to do something for himself, and Amber did the same; ‘female house’ doing this as well was a way to emphasize House’s belief that Wilson needs to be more independent and value his own personal wants over others when decision-making, let alone the one that decides his fate).

Maybe, House realizes that he feels incredibly understanding of what pain he let Wilson endure on his sofa - emotionally and physically - and ergo, is scared for Wilson, and can’t stand the thought of him going through that pain again, but in the one place Wilson begged not to be. As House looks at the Vicodin, he envisions Wilson become depressed and constantly in pain like he’d been on that couch, in an awful reflection of House himself from the one person he cares for the most, and all for the sake of House alone, given that in Wilson’s view, he has nothing else to live for.

Another could be that this reminder pushed House to feel a spark of need/love for Wilson’s presence, but more for his fuller, happier and guilt-free self for five months than the pitiful, unwanted version of Wilson in a hospital bed for an extra year.

It could easily be all the above, and most of them blend together anyway. I feel House changed his mind on account of all of these and many more (please let me know what you think it is! I love angsty stuff), but to summarize, this clip leaks way too much about House’s character development, showing the emotions that drive him to make the decision of letting Wilson be, and enjoying what they have left together, against all firm opinions he has well established throughout the show, as well as it demonstrates the climax of Wilson’s sacrificial and selfless behaviour being rejected and put to rest, as they both decide what’s best for each other rather than whatever their characters were full-force dedicated to before (Wilson’s selflessness and House’s selfishness).

[vhagarlovebot]

Ahh I better get this request out before it’s too late. I was thinking along the lines of angst to smut but with tender feelings at the end.

*Aemond is courting the reader and things have been going well, but reader has kept wondering when he will ever reveal his eye. She’s brought it up multiple times and he kind of brushed it off but one day there was a bit of an argument about how she feels a little betrayed that Aemond doesn’t trust her at this point in their relationship and Aemond’s insecurity bursts out and he bitterly tells her his past and he’s only ever heard bad things about his eye and that he’s convinced without the eyepatch he is unsightly enough for her to leave him. Reader carefully reassures him and he finally takes it off in front of her, and he was not expecting a soft reaction from her. Aemond becomes overwhelmed emotionally and he kisses her and pours all of his feelings into that kiss which leads into the first time they have sex. I’m sorry if it’s long I just wanted to give you enough detail so there won’t be any misconceptions. 🫣

gwen’s note: i have done a few works very similar to your req, so sorry if this is a little short.

“betrayed?!” aemond turns around, face red with anger. “you feel betrayed?” he asks, taking two long strides towards you. but you don’t back away, you stay firmly in place even if all you want is to take your words back.

aemond is so close that you clearly see every little freckle on his face, how sharp his cupid bow is, how long and painful the scar on his left side looks. you raise your hand to cradle his face but aemond grabs your wrist, stopping you as his right hand removes the eyepatch you’ve seen him wearing since the day you met him.

and you are left speechless. it is jaw-dropping, the sight you have in front. you don’t know what you were expecting but it was definitely not a gemstone filling the spot where his missing eye should have been.

but aemond takes your silence as a confirmation of what he already knew. you are disgusted, horrified, just like everyone else in king’s landing. and it’s not like he cares about what other people think, he only cares about what you think.

before aemond can pull away, you stand on your tiptoes, softly kissing the sapphire and along his scar. you can feel the exact moment aemond stops breathing.

“i know what you’re thinking.” you whisper, kissing down his jaw, his cheek and his nose, lips hovering over his. “you still are the prettiest man in all westeros.”

aemond’s heart flutters and tries to hide a smile, he wants to look angry, it’s easier for him. but every time you tell him how pretty he is, he transforms completely.

“say it again.” aemond wraps his arms around your waist and your body relaxes immediately at knowing he is no longer angry. “say i’m… pretty.”

“you’re not only pretty,” you say, your hands grabbing the lapels of his coat pulling him down to your level. “you are gorgeous, aemond targaryen.”

aemond crashes lips and teeth against yours in a desperate kiss. you sigh, melting into him, and his tongue brushes your lower lip, asking for a permission you instantly give as you move your head to the side for a better angle.

you start walking to the bed, still kissing him like it’s the last time and you need him to survive. but when his legs hit the mattress he pulls away, and you watch in silence how he tries to put the eyepatch back in its place.

“no!” you stop him, throwing the piece of leather somewhere in the room. “i don’t want you to hide from me.” you tuck his hair behind his ear and you lean in, lips brushing his neck as you whisper. “i— i want to look at it,” you drag your teeth against the skin of his neck, licking a path down and then up to that sensitive spot behind his ear where you suck. “and i want you to fuck me while i look at it.”

[jimmy-j-james]

Okay, I have this really long and angsty request for Ghost x male reader. Let me know if you're up for writing it and take as much time as you need, cuz when I say angsty, i mean it.

Ghost and Reader are dating, Reader is the team's chopper pilot and accompanies them on missions, picks them up if things get out of hand, etc. Before being sent on a mission, Ghost and Reader got into an argument about some silly stuff, during which Ghost, being the emotionally constipated man he is, said a lot of hurtful things to his partner. They were ignoring each other during the mission, as Simon was too proud to apologize and admit to his mistakes and feelings.

But then, as Reader was closing in with his helicopter to pick them up for evac, he was shot down and crashed, the pilot later presumed KIA.

Ghost felt guilty, he regretted the things he said and was miserable, as he lost the love of his life. A few months passed, the team helped him get through it. He was still mourning, but his friends made it easier to handle.

After nearly a year since the incident, during a mission, where they had to clear out an underground warehouse and get some important documents, Ghost got separated from the rest. As he tried to find them, he stumbled upon a closed door, with a chain and lock wrapped on its handles. He broke through it and didn't find the documents on the other side, but Reader.

Covered in blood, scars and bruises, handcuffed and hiding in the corner of the room, with a cloth tied around his eyes, shaking and crying as Ghost approached, scared that it was one of the enemy soldiers, about to hurt him.

The rest is up to you, as this is already too long lol. Hope it doesn't violate the rules, love ya!

WHERE THE WILD THINGS GO

- M!reader x Ghost

- Proofread:

- Genre: Angst (non-specified ending, so either angst fully, or angst w/ comfort)

- Synopsis: Request basically covers it. However, I decided to leave the ending more angst-like, though there is no specified ending.

⚠️Warnings: Heavy, detailed gore⚠️

Angst is happily inspired by the song breezeblocks, by Alt-J

@xweirdo101x your angst 🍽

════════════════

“You don’t know what you’re sayin’.” Simon firmly states, squeezing his eyes shut tightly in hopes it would calm his growing headache. This fight had been going on for near an hour now, with himself and his boyfriend, (y/n), fighting about the pilots possible promotion to field work. “It’s not safe for someone like yourself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Simon? Am I not capable enough to you?” He snarls in turn, frustrated and upset with the taller male.

“That’s not it! It’s just dangerous. Nothing you’d understand considerin’ your work.” He was far too calm for this argument, only further irking (y/n).

“Considering my work?” He gapes, glaring down at the Brit. “I’m not an idiot. I know the risks! You know what, I don’t see why this is up to you. This is something I want.”

“Fine! Go ahead! Get yourself killed, see if I care!” Simon immediately snaps back, causing (y/n) to flinch back.

It’s silent now. Only the sound of (y/n) holding back his cries, and Simon’s angered pants echoing throughout their quarters. Before the Brit can get the chance to speak, the shorter male is out the door.

“Fuckin’ hell…” Simon groans, taking his seat as he cradles his head in his hands. He had royally fucked up, and that much was clear. But, was he surely in the wrong? (Y/n) had no clue the risk he’d be making if he were to fully place his life on field..

Simon was just looking out for him. He clearly knew what was better for the man’s life. Why wouldn’t he listen..?

════════════════

The argument had clearly done damage, having the two avoid each other these past few days. (Y/n) had been happily spending his time with Gaz, a close friend of his.

Of course, it didn’t go unnoticed by Simon, who scowled at the sight. Gaz meant well, he knew that, but in the time where he couldn’t get the attention of his own boyfriend, it was irking.

“Keep glarin’ like that and ye’ll burn holes into ‘is head, Lt.” Soap comments teasingly, though he immediately backs down as he’s treated with a similar glare. “What’s got yer knickers in a twist?”

“(Y/n) and I had a fight.” He states plainly, his eyes glueing back onto the man’s figure.

“A fight? Jesus Ghost, the two of you’ll be back together in not time.” He chuckles, clearly not understanding the severity of said fight.

“I said things I didn’t mean to… practically told ‘im I didn’t care if he died..” He pauses, taking in a sharp inhale, his eyes still refusing to move from the other “I didn’t mean it.. I just worry… I don’t- I can’t lose him.”

“Why don’t you tell him that after the mission, ay? I’m sure he doesn’t hate you, Lt. You’re both just confused, love-sick kids.” Soap chuckles, nudging into the male with a bright flashy grin.

Ghost doesn’t reply verbally, but instead nods. His eyes finally manage to break free, moving to look towards Soap. “Alright. After the mission.”

════════════════

The given intel had been faulty, leaving Price to desperately call in for an evacuation as his men fought for their lives. “Captain,” (y/n)‘s voice eagerly calls through the radio, his words choppy due to the propellers of his aircraft “heard you needed some air support.”

“(C/n)! Glad to hear your voice, you daft muppet.” The captain teases in turn, glad to have his most trustworthy pilot ready.

“Gonna need you lot to get to a higher point, let’s say.. the water tower.” He grins behind his headset, knowing it wasn’t the most practical point, but who was he if he didn’t enjoy a little danger?

“On it.” Price returns, making a move to examine the area for said tower. “You heard ‘im boys, make it to the evac point, preferably without scratches.”

(Y/n) cackles, eagerly aiding them with few assisting shots. “Try not and get yerself killed, lad!” Soap, just as chaotic, shouts back through his own radio, watching the hefty aircraft glide through the skies.

It’s all fun and games to him, the typical action of attempting tricks with his plane, shooting down at those least expecting of him, and causing absolute misery for his team that prayed for their own safety.

It’s the point of which the team is at the water tower, and when he goes to pick up his boys, he finds himself panicked.

He’s been shot at. Multiple times, nonetheless, and it leaves him crawling down into a nearby forest. A plane on fire and only himself to try and safe him from death.

════════════════

“(Y/n)!” Ghost shouts out, watching as his lover is shot from the sky. His eyes wide as he sees the aircraft go down, followed by dark hues of smoke and a large fire starting up in the forest nearby. “We have to go for him, Price! We can’t just leave ‘im there!” He begs and pleas, looking to the captain hopefully, only to see the man shake his head.

“You know we can’t. That’s one life over multiple.” He strictly states, already calling in for a backup evac.

Ghost panics, frantically trying to push past to climb down the tower. He’s held back by Soap and Gaz, and despite them being just as upset, they knew the captain was right. One life lost was better than all of their lives.

“N-No! We can’t leave him! Don’t leave him! Price- we can still get him!” He cries out, desperately trying to escape their grasps. “Don’t let him die! I don’t- can’t lose him! Please..” Shouts turn to choked out sobs.

It’s out character. To see the Ghost sobbing and begging like a toddler pleading for a toy. He looks absolutely broken. Having lost everything yet again. A cruel joke from God.

He practically dies as he sees the explosion. It shakes the ground a little, and the small wooded area lights up with ash and fire. He gives up, dropping his weight into the two sergeants as he simply stares. He stares in horror and remorse.

He never got to apologize. He’ll never get to apologize.

════════════════

Months had passed. Ghost a broken man, a shell of what he had so generously built up to be.

He refused to speak.. refused to eat and sleep. Most hours of the day spent drinking or lying in bed without thought.

The team often trying to aid him. To provide the comfort he so desperately craved.. but nothing compared to the warm embrace of his lover that he oh so desperately needed.

Why hadn’t he just apologized and admitted fault..? Why hadn’t he just been a better lover?!? Fuck! Why hadn’t he just left the pilot alone in the first place? Nothing good came to those he loved..

════════════════

His pained breaths echo throughout the cell, wheezing and hissing in pain as he’s beaten black and blue. He’s drenched in various substances, alcohol, water, and even his own blood. Multiple forms of torture having taken place throughout the weeks.

He’s not sure how much longer he’ll live, nor does he know if his team would ever find him. He was on his own, alone and injured.

“Are you going to speak yet?” His captor scowls, holding his head up with a tight grasp to his hair.

(Y/n) only stays silent, his eyes rolling back in a dazed state. It seems to displease the other, earning him another hit to the gut, his head being thrown back before he’s spat on.

“Filthy rat.” He hisses out, turning to a small table of many surgical tools. The man holds up a pair of heavy duty scissors, a sinister smile on his face as he tauntingly tilts his head. He holds the scissors up to (y/n)’s hand, catching over two fingers. “You won’t be needing these anymore, now will you?”

There’s no time to reply, the blades slicing down to meet, clean through his fingers as he shouts in pain. He bites down on his bottom lip, holding back any noises as he stares at the stumps of fingers in pure horror.

“Are you going to speak now? Or should I take more?” He snarls, dipping the man’s hand into a glass of alcohol. A process he had done with every new wound. It earns a meek and choked whimper from the other, but he continues to stay mute.

He’s almost grown fond of the way his blood circulates the golden hue of whiskey. A cruel reminder that he was still alive and bleeding for the time being.

How long until they grew tired and killed him..? How long until Simon found him?

════════════════

Within the eighth month, Simon grew back into old habits. Requesting that he leave on a solo mission. And Price agreed. He gifted the lieutenant with a simple task for starting. A quick in and out of gathering intel.

He took the task with hopes. Praying that an overload of work would help him forget. Help him bury the past away and prevent these hauntings.

And so, he prepared to leave within the next few days..

════════════════

(Y/n)’s head lolls of onto his shoulder, expression glum and bloodied as he looks to his captor with amusement. His silence taunting, and he simply stares. It clearly angers the man, earning him another bone cracking hit.

It’s not a long break, having his hair roughly pulled at, head being forced back into place. Dazed eyes meet fierce ones. His captor scowling, a ghastly expression.

“Such a fuckin’ tough guy, ey?” He spits, grabbing some sort of pliers. A sadistic look crossing his eyes as he brings the tool towards his face. “See how fucking tough you are when I break you piece by piece.”

The pliers make contact with his eye, a discomforting touch at first, though slowly growing into a searing pain. He screams and thrashes in an instinctive panic. The tool works with ease, wiggling about within his socket, loosening his eye before pulling it right from its place within his skull.

(Y/n) is a sobbing, panting mess. His face far more blood soaked, and lack of eye nothing but a pulsating pain. He’s not sure how much more he could handle.

Yet desperately, despite his pains, he silently prays. Prays for his teams rescue. He knows they’re coming. They have to be! But yet, he can only hope.

════════════════

The warehouse is of easy access. A likeable cause that word of his presence got around, leaving for the group of terrorist to leave in a hurry.

It made the task easy. All he had to do now was seek out the documents he was sent for. But.. he stops in place, tensing where he stands. An eerie, yet familiar sound, calling out to taunt him.

Faint, broken sobs echo throughout the silent building. The sounds playing from beneath the floor. Beneath Simon’s feet.

════════════════

He’s far too gone. Sitting in a haze of pain and delusion. He prays over and over again. Begging for an escape, so be it death.

And when footsteps echo from above his abused body, he desperately sobs in hopes his saviour would hear him. His state of delusional thoughts leading him to believe it was an angel.. one here to take away his suffering.

He’d been alone in this room for near a day now, having been left behind as the group fled in panic. And no matter if this sudden appearance was good or bad, he planned to be found.

════════════════

Ghost is quick to act, searching out for the specific hatch. And he’s thankful it’s rather obvious. A small door hidden beneath a carpet, leading down to a door, seemingly a basement.

As he reveals the door, the cries grow louder. His body moving on its own as he rushes forward, hastily kicking down the door.

The the smell alone is awful, having him gag and grimace. But the sight.. his heart drops down, and his throat tightens into a panic.

Within the middle of the room, tied to a chair, his assumed K.I.A lover sits; beaten and broken, sobbing pathetically as his head hangs low.

“(Y/n)..” His words a hoarse cry, immediately rushing to free the man. He’s quick yet cautious, calling in for immediate pickup, alongside medical aid.

“Shh, it’s okay now luv.. gonna get you cleaned up.. fix you up, yeah?” He mumbles and soothes, rocking the wounded man within his arms. Though his words act as more a promise to himself than to the boy. “Don’t leave me.. please don’t go..”

He’s a mess himself, panicked and cautious as he holds the boy like he was broken glass. “Oh dove.. what have they done to you?” Simon whispers, noting his injuries as he rushes outside to try and get to the evac point. “Just stay with me.. stay awake luv.”

“Come on, just a little bit more..” he desperately pleas, practically stumbling along with how eager he is to rescue the boy.

And he does it, he gets to the aircraft, passing off his near dead lover to the many doctors. They work quick to hook him up to many machines, and the plane takes off..

It’s a blur of panic and desperation to keep him alive. Something Ghost himself isn’t sure of, considering his state of being. The heart monitors constantly changing.. too low, too high, normal, and repeat..

His body lies limp on a stretcher. And with a closer look at the damages done, Simon can only think..

He should have just apologized. Told (y/n) he loved him, that he was okay with the man joining the field… fuck..

He should have just been a better lover.

════════════════

© Copyright @jimmy-j-james, 2023

All rights reserved

do not copy/paste, claim as your own, post on different sites, or translate without prior consent from me

[astrxq]

chad x reader who’s dewey’s god daughter

she’s been distant lately and after an incident at a frat party he comes to check up on her and she apologizes out of nowhere and he’s all confused and she just vents and cries about how guilty she feels

(maybe she’s the one who called dewey instead of gale and that’s why she feels guilty)

a shoulder to lean on

chad meeks x reader

notes: warnings: (underage drinking, mention of scars, slight mention of weed, drunk!reader) i think that's all?? ughh i don't really like this but the lack of chad fics is criminal

words: 2.6k

Maybe letting Tara get you a drink hadn't been such a good idea; the taste of pure vodka with a hint of lemonade burned your throat, making you involuntarily wince. You turned to Tara, who was smirking mischievously, clearly amused by your reaction.

"You alright there?" she asked, her voice tinged with amusement.

You coughed lightly, trying to regain your composure. "Yeah, I just wasn't expecting it to be that strong," your voice is slightly hoarse.

Tara chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "You said you wanted something strong, didn't you?"

You managed a weak smile, nodding in acknowledgment. You figured you'd get used to the taste, just like Tara seemed to have from the looks of it. Her pirate headwrap was about to fall off her head, and she had been talking and dancing with people she barely knew all night, even introducing you to three or four "new friends" she had made.

"Yeah, well, I didn't mean 'knock-me-off-my-feet' strong," you retorted. Tara laughed, taking a sip from your cup before walking back to a new target to befriend.

As Tara disappeared into the dancing crowd, you took another sip of the potent cocktail, determined to get through it. Trying to make your way to the couch where Mindy sat with her new girlfriend, you bumped into a few people along the way, each one giving you a dirty look or a friendly nod as the brim-filled drink spilled a bit every time you brushed past someone.

While trying to pat your dress dry, you didn’t pay any mind to Chad calling your name, only noticing his presence when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned to see a tipsy-looking Chad with a cowboy hat on his head, the varsity jacket now long gone.

He reached out his hand to flick the cat ears perched on your head. "Nice ears," he slurred, grinning widely. You couldn't help but smile back at him.

“Nice hat,” he grinned, his hand moving to your waist, and the other one reaching for your cup. “I thought you were coming with Tara?”

“Yeah, she’s…” you gestured around the crowded room, “I might've lost her.”

Chad chuckled, his laughter slightly slurred from the alcohol. "Classic Tara," his hand squeezed your waist, making you look at him. "Well, you're not alone now. What are we drinking?" he asked, his eyes scanning the cup he'd just taken from you.

You shrugged. "Vodka and lemonade," you replied, gesturing to the cup. "Consider yourself warned, it's pretty intense." 

He gave you a look before chugging some of the drink, immediately cringing. You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction. "Told you," you teased.

Chad’s roommate approached, a cardboard costume covering most of his tall frame, and he rambled about how the loud music mixed with whatever shots Chad and him had done before made his head hurt. 

You couldn’t help but zone out, taking small sips of your drink and trying to ignore the taste as you stared at Chad. The whole friend group had been through so much in Woodsboro, and you couldn’t help but wonder why they didn’t seem to be hurting as much as you were. 

The stab scars on your left arm and your stomach felt like a constant reminder of that hospital. Of Dewey. As you continued to pretend to listen to Chad's roommate's complaints about his throbbing head, your mind drifted to the events of the past year.

The Woodsboro incident had left you scarred, both physically and emotionally. The loss of Dewey had hit you hard, and the memories of that terrifying night still haunted your dreams. You couldn't shake the feeling that the danger wasn't entirely over, and you had become more vigilant and cautious, constantly looking over your shoulder. 

Sam was the only one that knew about the nightmares that left you shaking and sweaty with fear about the masked killer and your godfather. And she made sure to reassure you that you weren’t going insane, that she also had those dreams. Sometimes, when you get in your head, you can feel the scars start to hurt again, you remember the pain, the fear, and the loss all too vividly. 

You only focused back on the conversation when you felt Chad’s arm wrap around your shoulders, and a single tear on your cheek, which you quickly wiped before the boys could notice it. The topic had changed from Ethan’s poor alcohol tolerance to Chad forgetting to take his dorm keys. 

Chad continued to talk to Ethan, while keeping his arm around you and his thumb tracing eight-figures on your shoulder. You leaned into his side, taking solace in his presence. The relentless pounding of the music and the swirling chaos of the party seemed to fade into the background as you felt the soothing rhythm of his thumb and the drink that, just like Tara promised, didn’t taste so strong now. 

Soon enough, Ethan was dragged away by a smiley Anika, begging him to dance because Mindy refused to. “What’s up?” Chad asked, moving your hair behind your ears and cupping your face.

“Hm?” “You’re really quiet,”

You sighed softly, gazing into Chad's eyes as you tried to remind yourself that this is just how Chad was, touchy and flirty. "Just tired, I guess," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. He nodded in understanding, his hand gently stroking your cheek. 

“Do you want to leave? I can walk you.” 

You looked around at the swirling, chaotic party and then back at Chad, his expression filled with concern. The offer was tempting, and you appreciated his consideration, but you couldn't help but feel that you needed to confront your fears and the memories that still haunted you.

"I appreciate it, Chad," you said, a soft smile touching your lips, "but I think I need to stay here a bit longer. I'm not ready to let this party beat me." you joked.

He eyed you for a second, hesitating, before letting go of you and giving you a smile. “Let’s find Tara, yeah?”

Finding Tara, giggly and sharing a joint with Mindy outside, also meant that Chad saw the beer-pong game you walked by on the way. “Ohhh, I see something I like.” he said, dragging you towards the table as the girls started a joke-telling competition in gibberish. 

Tara and Mindy's laughter echoed in the background as you and Chad approached the table. Two sweaty boys on one side of the table, dabbing each other up and chugging drinks to celebrate their win.

Chad grabbed a nearby ping pong ball and turned to you with a mischievous grin. "You ever played beer pong before?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

You chuckled, feeling a bit of adrenaline rush through you. “Uh… I've seen it in movies. Does that count?" you replied. He shrugged, “Eh, I’ll teach you.” He passed by a couple to stand on the opposite side to the boys, holding two ping pong balls in his hand with a grin. 

He handed you one of the balls, leaning closer so you could hear him talk. "Okay, so you see those cups over there?" He pointed to the triangle of red Solo cups arranged at the far end of the table, each filled with beer. "We throw the ping pong balls into their cups. If we make it, they drink. If they make it, we drink."

You stared up at him, feeling fuzzy because of the drink Tara had made you earlier and because of how close he was standing, his chest almost touching your back. “Ready?” you hesitated, not really trusting your tipsy aim, but Chad gave your hip a squeeze before focusing on the cups again.

Chad took over, having sobered up enough to not miss his shots. You, on the other side, missed enough shots to empty your cups, "Alright, don't worry," Chad reassured you, a playful grin on his face. "You're getting the hang of it. Just focus on the cups and take your time."

Feeling the alcohol begin to take its toll, you hoped your drunken state didn’t lead to an embarrassing display. You aimed for the last cup, missing by mere inches. The beer pong ball bounced off the rim and rolled across the table. Chad leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Don't worry, it's all in good fun. We can make a comeback."

His warm breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine, and for a moment, you forgot about everything else – the scars, the nightmares, and the chaos of the party. It was just you and Chad, engaged in a playful game with the world fading away. 

And just like that, it downed back on you, all at once.

Chad must have noticed the change in your demeanor because he gently took your hand, his touch offering a reassuring anchor in the midst of the emotional storm. “Hey, hey, it’s fine. It’s just a game.” 

Your eyes met Chad's, his gaze warm and understanding, but you could see the concern etched in his expression. The chaos of the party seemed to intensify around you, the laughter and music becoming a cacophony that threatened to drown you. The weight of the past year bore down on you, the memories of that terrifying night in Woodsboro, the loss of Dewey, and the constant guilt that ate at you for calling Dewey for help.

He wrapped an arm around you, “You drank too much,” he said, putting down the cup you were holding because of your last miss. “Let’s get some air.”

Chad led you away from the beer pong table, guiding you through the crowd of partygoers. The night air felt cool against your skin as you stepped outside. The chaotic sounds of the party faded behind you, and he led you outside with a strong hold on your hand, and an arm around your waist.

You took a deep breath, trying to clear your mind and steady your racing heart. "I'm sorry,"

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice soft and reassuring. He gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "You don't have to apologize for anything. We all have our moments."

He didn’t say anything when you stayed quiet, looking down as he walked you to your dorm. Once you reached the building, Chad stopped and turned to face you, “Keys?” 

You fumbled around in your bag for a moment before finally locating your dorm keys. You handed them to Chad with a grateful smile. "Thanks," you said, still feeling a bit overwhelmed. 

You stepped inside your dorm, and Chad followed. The room was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the party. You sat down on your bed, and Chad took a seat beside you. He didn't say anything for a moment, allowing you to collect your thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, he rubbed your back, “Why?”

“For Dewey.”

Chad's expression softened, and he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Hey, don't blame yourself for what happened to Dewey. None of this was your fault," he said in a soothing tone, his thumb gently rubbing your shoulder. "We all lost someone we cared about last year, and we're all still trying to come to terms with it. It's okay to feel the way you do."

Wiping at the tears that covered your face, you hiccuped as Chad stared at you. "I know, but sometimes it's just hard to shake that guilt, you know?" 

“None of us blame you for what happened. Dewey was trying to protect us all, including you.”

Chad pulled you into a comforting hug, his arms wrapping around you securely. "We all have those thoughts, but it doesn't change what happened. You're not alone in this, okay? We're here for you."

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands like he’d done earlier that night. “Why haven’t you told us about this?”

“Sam knows,” your voice broke as you shrugged your shoulders, “but I didn't want to burden everyone with it. We've all been through so much, and I didn't want to add to the weight on your shoulders."

Chad's eyes held a mixture of concern and understanding. "You're not a burden, and you shouldn't have to go through this alone," he said softly. "and we've got your back. That's what friends are for." 

He kissed your forehead, lingering for a few seconds before pulling back to give you a small smile. “You know we all love you, right?” you stayed quiet, not really knowing what to say. You’d distanced yourself from the group since the murders, not enough for them to stop talking to you, but seeing their faces made you go back to that night.

"I do," you finally whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of gratitude and sorrow. "I love you all too."

Chad's thumb gently wiped away the tears from your cheeks, “I’ll make you something to eat, yeah? So the alcohol goes away a bit.” you nodded and he kissed where your tears had been just seconds before he wiped them.

While Chad prepared a simple meal, you took the opportunity to wash your face and change into more comfortable clothes. When you returned to the kitchen, the aroma of grilled cheese sandwiches filled the air, making your stomach rumble. He handed you a plate with a smile, and you both sat down at the small table in your dorm room. 

“Thank you," you said, your voice filled with genuine appreciation. "I don't know what I would've done without you tonight."

Chad smiled, "Of course,” 

As you both finished your sandwiches, Chad cleared the plates and put them in the sink. You watched him, a soft smile playing on your lips. "You're a great cook," you remarked, genuinely impressed.

Chad chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Well, I've had a lot of practice. Ethan is a horrible cook."

You appreciated his lightheartedness and humor. It was moments like these that made you feel like you could truly escape the darkness that had been haunting you. "I'm glad you're in my life, Chad."

His smile widened, and he approached you, gently cupping your face. "I'm glad I'm in your life too," he said, his voice filled with warmth. He squished your cheeks with his hand, pushing you to chuckle as he showered your face with kisses. “So, so glad.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and he pulled you back in for another hug. After a while, you both pulled away from the hug, but Chad kept his arm around your shoulders, his touch grounding you. 

“So, what now?" you asked, looking up at Chad, feeling a sense of peace you hadn't felt in a while.

"Well, we could watch a movie, or we could just sit here and talk. It's up to you." 

You considered your options for a moment, feeling the weight of the past year slowly lifting from your shoulders. 

"A movie sounds good," you finally replied, a genuine smile gracing your lips as Chad played with your fingers before standing up to lead you to the couch. He places another lingering kiss on your forehead as you sit together, his arms wrapped around you and, just for a moment, you think about how he makes you feel safe, how his presence eases the ache in your heart, even if just for a little while.

The two of you settled on the couch, wrapped up in blankets, with a comforting movie playing in the background. Chad's arm remained around your shoulders, offering silent support as you both immersed yourselves in the storyline. Occasionally, he'd squeeze your shoulder or run his fingers through your hair, a wordless reassurance that he was there.

[milkyplier]

Ok I’m HERE pls elaborate on how Legend doesn’t push people away/want to be seen as strong. I will listen to All The Thoughts

HECK YEHA IM SO EXCITED OKAY LETS GO

And hold on tight, it’s long XD

I’ll go ahead and dump you right into it. Let’s look at his character traits, in Jojo’s original meet-the-characters sheet.

I want to focus on these two:

- Very mature for his age, but still young at heart

- Seems emotionally unaffected by his travels, however he keeps Koholint his dark secret

Long story short Legend doesn’t want to be seen as strong because he already is strong.

The idea that Legend pushes people away comes from the fear of losing those people. I think that Legend would have learned that loss is just a thing that happens. He can’t change that, he can’t stop it. And more importantly, he would have learned that not letting people inside in an effort to get hurt just wasn’t worth it. Ultimately, he would rather have friends and lose them one day than have no friends and spend his whole life (even more) alone and miserable.

Throughout the comic, we don’t even see Legend being any more or less receptive to the group’s relationship than anyone else. He hasn’t even been more secretive! It just feels like it because he has more things to stay quiet about. The reality is: Legend just knows when he does and doesn’t want to open his mouth and start spewing his personal information. He isn’t one to just spew words, I think that he considers every word that comes out of his mouth and as a result, just has no interest in sharing things about himself that don’t need sharing. Look here in the comic Scars:

Legend, Warriors, Hyrule, and Wild all share scars. Legend is the only one who doesn’t reveal the origin of his scar, by choice. Even Wild says “I don’t remember much,” which would seem to indicate that if he might have shared some information if he knew any. Legend remembers completely, and simply doesn’t say anything.

What does this tell us? Legend just has no interest in sharing where he got it. He has no problem remembering, and no issues with others’ curiosity—if he did, he wouldn’t have shown them the scar at all to avoid being harshly reminded and asked the inevitable “where did you get it?”

Long story short: Legend just has boundaries. And he’s very good at keeping them.

Legend doesn’t want to be seen as strong:

I just don’t think he’s that immature. I don’t think he is that anxious about his appearance. Yeah, I know, “but what about bunny Legend? He was worried about how the others would laugh at him because a bunny is weak and defenseless!”

Correct, but remember Legend says:

“I am so defenseless it’s pathetic. I’m a warrior, this is shameful.”

He is fully aware of how strong he is. And notice, he only talks about his strength in terms of weapons—he has absolutely no doubts about his emotional strength.

(Also, quick note: I like how Jojo uses the mirror to show us Legend’s face in this panel. She offers us a chance to sober up, to see exactly how this rabbit form has affected Legend and how he feels about it, and to take him seriously. She’s so clever!)

Also, “seems unaffected by his adventures, but keeps koholint his dark secret.” In other words, Koholint appears to be the only one his adventures he could not quite recover from. It was the only one that he could not just glean lessons from and then heal—it’s taking longer. But he’s clearly handling it well, and notice he doesn’t fight Twilight digging up the wound. He also doesn’t spill his whole secret willy-nilly.

He has no issues with being Hylian, with others seeing that he is only Hylian and he has emotions. He just also demonstrates incredible emotional maturity, in that he isn’t a blabber mouth.

To summarize: legend doesn’t push anyone away, he just conducts himself in a way we aren’t familiar with. He doesn’t spill his secrets because he doesn’t need to. And when he does, I’d bet my blog he’ll do it in a solid and intelligent way, not in a rush of tears and feelings because he’s been sick for seven days and he’s emotionally weakened. Legend also doesn’t feel a need to seem stronger than he is, because he knows his already incredible strength, and he also knows his weaknesses.

* * *

Okay, I think this is everything I’ve got right now XD sorry this took so long, it took my brain forever to get itself into shape. I hope this was at least semi-understandable hahaha

Thank you for reading!

[deathbealady]

wait a minute

was it ever explained how Brannagh and Dagdan are daemati and magically never fucking realized that Jurian was playing the King of Hybern like Tamlin playing a fiddle?

you mean to tell me that the sadistic and gross Brannagh and Dagdan never bothered to go into Jurian’s mind, not even just for shits and giggles because they like to torture humans??

I know SJM explains that Rhysand (and Feyre for that matter) didn’t think to check, but that’s also kind of a really stupid excuse. Yeah sure he’s gonna be mentally/emotionally/physically scarred from all the bs he’s been through, and it might’ve made him crazy in any number of ways, but he’s clearly of sound enough mind to be acting on behalf of Hybern in some capacity. Changing loyalties to turn against his own people is out of character to say the least, but certainly not outside the realm of possibility

Also, Jurian knew of daemati and expected them to do daemati things. He told Rhysand he figured he would’ve read his thoughts and known where his true loyalties lay. I don’t recall mention of him having mental shields, and as a human, how would he have known how to put any up? Doesn’t it require magic? And just assuming he could do it despite being human, how effectively would he be able to maintain such shields as a human, especially if he’s up against a more powerful and practiced daemati, let alone two??

Related: it’s established that daemati are not only able to read minds, but manipulate memories and essentially brainwash/control the minds of their targets. Why the fuck wouldn’t Rhysand check to see if Jurian hadn’t been brainwashed into serving the king of Hybern??? Especially after knowing that Hybern had at least 2 daemati rolling with Jurian, who could monitor and control his behavior in the Spring Court.

And for THAT matter, how did Brannagh and Dagdan not notice that Tamlin was also biding his time to double cross Hybern? I may be misremembering, but wasn’t there a whole-ass scene where Feyre had to go in and create mental shields for Tamlin and Lucien to protect them from Brannagh and Dagdan?? She protected his mind then, but it was also a lot of strain on her magic that was being sapped by the faebane. And in any case, it’s not a stretch to think Tamlin wouldn’t have met them before

It’s already stupid enough that a high lord like Tamlin and the son of a high lord like Lucien, somehow do not have training to protect themselves from daemati. It’s an especially stupid plot hole for Tamlin, who was once friends with Rhysand, and likely would’ve known about Rhysand’s abilities given their history. You mean to tell me that if he didn’t learn how to protect himself from daemati before or during their friendship, Tamlin just never thought “hey maybe I should learn to protect myself from daemati just in case”??? And especially not after the big falling out he’d had with Rhysand?!?!

This was honestly supposed to be a quick shower thoughts level post about Jurian but the more I thought about it, the more I realized NONE OF IT MAKES SENSE! These books truly do such terrible disservices to the most interesting characters and it is so painful to watch it happen

[dearestxiao]

Dear Santa,

I would like some more fucked up/possessive/shockingly sweet Venti HC 🙏

Thank you

warnings: possessive venti, gaslighting and manipulation, abuse of power(?), threats(?), scars from battle, let me know if I'm missing anything!!

ooh my god this took me so long to get out we're almost a week into the new years 😭😭😭. but when I saw this ask I actually screamed thank u sm nonnie. being able to ramble nonsense abt ven is always so fun. these aren't a lot whatsoever but these are some main things I think about with venti. all are random but somewhat related?

he often does performances, whether that be at a tavern/bar or an open mic that are either 'dedicated' to you or a 'special somebody'. even if he doesn't directly say your name, he makes it so obvious that it's about you, his eyes glued onto you the entirety of his show. it's supposed to be a sweet gesture, and it would be, if it wasn't so clearly a way for him to claim you as his, which is only worsened by the fact that you're not. no one would ever believe otherwise though.

in the same vain, if you start romantically seeing someone, or even slightly have interest in anyone, he instantly becomes intensely clingy. you two have barely hung out recently, you two should hang out more! he's been dying to see this live show with you, and there's a new cafe that just opened up, and there's this beautiful meadow nearby that's perfect for a picnic, he pulls out all the works to try to convince you to spend more time with him than anybody else. and trust, if you do spend time with someone else, you'll never hear the end of it. he'll constantly sulk or make you feel insanely guilty, saying anything and everything to make you feel awful.

I think the main thing that would differentiate canon!venti and modern au!venti are their literal powers. given that modern!venti doesn't have a borderline fear-tactic to hold over your head, he instead resorts to manipulating you, especially in ways similar to the headcanon above.

venti is insanely emotionally intelligent. he knows every little thing about you, how your mind ticks and what really pulls at your heart strings. he can't help but use this to his favor. anytime an 'issue' arises between you too, he's quick to put on an award-winning act. of course, if it was what'd he call a genuine problem or a mistake on his behalf, he's quick to apologize and do everything in his power to make amends. but if you're upset about something akin to his clinginess and possessiveness... oh baby, you're getting guilt-tripped.

it doesn't really matter if you're a person who's hard to manipulate or not. venti can break a will. at some point you just wear down and give up.

canon!venti really doesn't like to hold his powers against you (he really loves the thought of you choosing to be with him, even if that choice is... coerced), but if push comes to shove, he does. he would never would never actually use them, but stories about how he acted and what he did back during those days of war are certainly enough to keep you docile. to be fair, he doesn't necessarily need to use them at all. you're far less likely to go against him if you know just what he's capable of. deep down he knows he'd never do anything, but he's so unpredictable that the fear that he could is enough.

I think venti would also definitely use the fact that he's the god of freedom against you, especially as a sort of mind trick. he states that he's the god of freedom, he would never take away your freewill, that goes against everything he stands for! so, the fact that you're with him is clearly your own choice, something of your own doing, and if you truly wanted to, you could've left him at any time you wanted to!

somewhat similarly, I think venti would have a 'thing' for getting you to say certain things. he'll do things like pin you down and say (with a big, toothy smile plastered on his face) that he won't let you out until you admit that you love him, admit that you're his and all his, admit that you would never, ever leave him. he tells you to do it in a lighthearted manner through giggles and grins, but you know that he's serious about never letting you out from underneath his grasp.

also, another few headcanons that doesn't really fit into anything else:

I think another difference between modern au!venti and canon!venti is that modern au!venti is a lot more of a creep. as the god of freedom, canon!venti would, of course, stick to atleast some of his morals and godly obligations. being a yandere doesn't entirely diminish his values, even if he does stretch the limitations of them often. but modern venti is not tied to those morals, so he has no reason to really obide by them. he therefore sees no issue with doing things like going through your room or your items, looking through any notes or journals or diaries you have, laying on your bed or pocketing an item of yours or two.

despite gods likely having insane regenerative powers, I can see venti choosing to keep any and all scars that would've developed throughout his life of serving out duties as a god. they're all so especially jarring because of just how gentle and harmless venti looks in comparison. it serves both as a reminder of his past and all he's been through (something that you would definitely atleast sympathize with) and all he's done, a testament as to how looks can be deceiving and that you should certainly never underestimate him.

[rebouks]

Wyatt’s home was neat, tidy and exposed very little of his true character, just as Brynn had suspected. There were no knickknacks strewn across shelves, no photographs or clutter, and certainly nothing that held much sentimental value; unless he kept such things hidden, though she figured it more likely he simply didn’t have any.

He’d caught her eye now and then but said nothing, unphased by her nosiness as she roamed freely; clearly he had nothing to hide-.. not from her, anyway. Intent on picking her apart from the inside out – much the same as she to him – he studied her relentlessly, bewildered by the fact she’d invaded his sanctuary so audaciously.

Brynn had never met anyone quite like Wyatt, a man who knew exactly what he was, yet bared absolutely no apologies for it. He was cool, collected and intelligent, he couldn’t be cajoled with false compliments or pretend beguile, he didn’t fall over himself to please anyone, didn’t tell her what to do or what to say or how to act, didn’t try to own her or parade her; a stolen prize to be pinned to one’s chest as a badge of honour, wealth or depravity-.. and for the first time in a long, long while, Brynn felt free. Free of her mask, her falsities and her scars.

Brynn: You have a lot of books. Wyatt: That’s not a lot. Brynn: Is way more than I have. Wyatt: You don’t like reading? Brynn: I do-.. is just hard work. Wyatt: Practice makes perfect. Brynn: Maybe you could teach me? Wyatt: You’re finding an awful lot of excuses to spend more time with me…

The atrocities in Wyatt’s past should’ve deterred her, but over time, she’d found herself drawn to him because of them. A shared existence in the darker realities of life, however opposite they may have been.

He could’ve continued down that path after the death of his father, could’ve picked up where Ashton left off, but he hadn’t. He’d fled to where he felt free instead; leading a simple, lonely life, searching for a soul long since forgotten. He was grey, and so was she.

Despite his outward arrogance, Brynn could feel the familiar ache of desolation within Wyatt. He wore his wretched personality like a cloak, peering out at the world as a gargoyle would, poised to deter anyone that came too close with a well-practiced, stony demeanour; but even the hardest of stones could break with the right tools and a little persistence…

Brynn: You think I came all this way for snow and rocks? Wyatt: I’m starting to doubt it. Brynn: Only now? I thought you more intelligent than that.

Brynn smirked, her piercing, lustful gaze rendering him speechless for the second time that night. She wasn’t wrong, he knew by now where this was headed, but he still couldn’t wrap his head around the why. She ought to know better given everything she’d been through, everything she knew about him-.. everything he’d put her through; directly or indirectly, it didn’t matter.

Wyatt swallowed forcefully as he felt a hot flash of guilt wash over him, trying to rid himself of the unpleasant lump stuck in his throat. He hadn’t realised it at the time, but he’d felt something toward her ever since she’d given him that stupid phone in Del Sol. She’d trusted him to do the right thing, even though she had every right to assume he wouldn’t.

Putting it down to the fact that no one had ever believed in him before, he’d brushed those thoughts aside; he was probably just desperate for some sort of approval, fairly natural for someone who was emotionally neglected as a child. It didn’t mean anything.

Brynn: You don’t understand, do you? [Wyatt squinted; he didn’t want to admit that] Brynn: Tell me why. [Wyatt hesitated, but ultimately acquiesced] Wyatt: You said you’d never forgive me… Brynn: I not use the word never, did I? Wyatt: You should’ve. Brynn: I told you; I see you.

Wyatt: What do you s-… [Wyatt promptly forgot his question as Brynn clambered on top of him, his hands reaching for her instinctively, hungrily…] Brynn: Use your heart tonight, not your head.

Previous // Next

[eluxcastar]

Pantalone x reader (male or gn) where reader returns from a particularly bloody and mentally exhausting mission late at night. Perhaps a little emotionally scarring

Reader is concerningly silent

Pantalone helps them bathe and carries to bed

Hurt/comfort fic where reader softly cries to sleep and pantalone can do nothing more than hold them tighter and closer

You're not used to losing people

── ୨୧：pantalone x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: you spent days out travelling near the edge of snezhnaya, delayed by trouble you encountered that has you home half a day after you were expected to be. by all official accounts the objective was completed and the mission was therefore a success, but you seem to return a different person than the one who waved Pantalone off with a warm smile and a kiss for good luck.

୨୧﹑genre :: angst

୨୧﹑content :: masc reader (could be read as gn), mentions of blood, use of petnames (darling), implied death, reader is at a bit of an emotional breaking point, pantalone is written to be soft, they're married because I said so

୨୧﹑words :: 2.7k

anon this is strangely so cute I love it. sad but still somewhat cute an idea yk (I had literally no idea what to call it until five seconds ago). our man pantaloon needs more love. I accidentally wrote clock instead of cloth in one part and the mental image of Pantalone trying to clean reader with a clock made me fucking die laughing this is so stupid

if you like this also go read this post as the two are similar in theme and story but with very little comfort to the hurt 👍

something about the evening seems...wrong, the sky grows darker, too dark for it to be your usual time. the moon suspiciously high, yet there's no sign of you to be found. you should know better than to make him worry, knowing that though your strength may carry you through battle, you're also not invincible. what happens if you reach your limit out there? how is he supposed to know if you're safe? what if you don't come home?

abruptly Pantalone's thoughts are interrupted, the door opening, and he knows nobody would be bold enough to waltz on in without knocking unless it was you come home from a long and tiring mission. he only heard earlier that you would be returning, "Some time in the early evening" he had been told and clearly that was a lie. it was likely no fault of yours, just some hold up along the way.

he hears your footsteps, knows you're there-- at least he thinks that's you. you've been awfully quiet, though you usually call out to him when you return home. you still manage to worry him. he can't see you tucked away in the entrance, only glimpses of you as you remove your coat. there's a moment where he swears he hears you suck your breath through your teeth, then the rustling of fabric and finally your footsteps again, abruptly followed by a loud thud.

now you're really worrying him.

it takes him seconds to decide he's no longer waiting on you, standing to walk to you and see what has happened. the moment he turns around, Pantalone can see you even from where he stands several feet away, the thud clearly caused by you falling flat on your face, leaving you struggling to get up though not for a lack of trying. just before he reaches you, you just give up and turn yourself over so you can sit for a moment. you barely get there before he's lifting you up from the floor like a life-size rag doll.

"You're injured. Why didn't you go see someone?" his concern translates to disappointment at some point, and though he wonders if it was too harsh, the blood you're covered in and the bandages that bind your hand tells him you need it just a little bit. why aren't you taking better care of yourself?

you try to speak, but find it impossible for your words to comply, caught in your throat and refusing to come out. he's not impressed with that either; you can see it in his face that he would've said something if you didn't look so, frankly speaking, pathetic.

you have to ask yourself if he can tell you're trying not to cry, the quivering of your lips and glassy eyes hard to hide. he cradles you so gently it almost tips you over the edge, so safe compared to the way you've spent the last few weeks feeling. nothing about the day leading up to now specifically makes you feel that way, and it feels so draining trying to hold it back, but overwhelmingly so being home just makes you so emotional. your wound doesn't hurt too badly, and it's not as if your fall was anything but tripping over your own feet in absent-mindedness. if it proved anything, it was that you definitely did something to your shoulder, coupled with the fact that grabbing the blade of a sword to stop it in its tracks had left a shallow mark across your palm, you were beginning to doubt your instincts again.

still, you cling to the fabric of his clothes tightly, finding comfort in these familiar things which you associate with your home. hearing his voice, the cool contrast of the rings he wears against your skin, the scent of home, even just being held in this way makes you want to close your eyes and settle.

then suddenly you're moving again, and he sits you down on the couch and kneels down to remove your shoes for you, "I'll take you to be seen by a doctor tomorrow, but for now let's get you cleaned up and in some nice fresh clothes." he stands and places a kiss gently to your forehead, "I'll come get you when the water is ready, don't push yourself, darling."

you dare not test his patience, so you wait, staring down at your hand covered in bloody bandages. your hand is shaking. most of that blood is yours, though your mind wanders seeing it, back to the several corpses you laid your hands on, the people whose bodies you beat with your fist begging and screaming at them to get up as they lay lifeless. your throat still hurts. you untuck the end of those bandages, unravelling them from around your hand until you see your skin and the awful gash across your palm. it looks awful, red and swelling, far worse than when you last saw it. you run your thumb across the wound, flinching at the tinge of pain that shoots down your arm.

"Tsk tsk, what is this?" from behind the couch comes a hand, taking you by the wrist and pulling your arm up, "You should've gone to get this looked at. Did you at least clean this properly?"

you stare up at Pantalone who adjusts his glasses. it's strange to feel his hands against yours, bare and slightly damp hands warm against your skin. remembering he asked a question you shake your head, and his eyes flicker back to you with a strange look.

"The bath is ready." he finally says, "Does it hurt when I carry you? What else are you hiding that you haven't tended to properly?"

"It's ok, you can carry me." you say, finally able to speak, though your words are quiet and rougher, than you'd like. you clear your throat and repeat "You can carry me." to him knowing his usual fixation on acting your best, even though you're also aware there's no way he expects that of you.

Pantalone purses his lips a moment, glad for you to finally say something, but still finding something to worry about in the fact it didn't tell him much, resigning himself to the fact that you'll simply have to show him once he helps you undress to take a bath. you watch as he walks around the couch, and raise your arm up to him, wrapping it around his neck when he leans down to scoop you back up off the couch and into his arms.

the way his hands touch you as he removes your shirt, letting you lean your head down rather than pull your arms off and he promptly tosses it aside. his hands return to your shoulders, running down your arms to observe your skin, noting that you had bruises but no other cuts or scrapes, save for a minor one on your side barely in need of a band-aid. it's slightly more awkward shimmying yourself out of your pants as you have to put your weight on your hand while trying to avoid pressing it too forcefully against anything. his observation continues, though he once again finds you to be in perfect condition.

it's the dried blood that sticks to your skin that he worries about, even knowing it likely isn't yours.

"I wasn't told there would be delays in your arrival, was it so bad that you weren't about to communicate your messages back to me?"

the water is warm, but not hot, shallower than you might've filled it but you suppose only having the water rise to your waist was in case you were keeping another nasty scar hidden under your clothes from him. that was in case. every bone in your body adores this man's care for you, the usually pompous banker with a clear soft spot for you.

he holds a cloth which he dips into the water, running it along your skin as he dabs at the stains taking extra care not to scrub too harshly. days of dirt and grime and a battles worth of blood and sweat washed away by the loving hands of the Regrator. he can tell by your reluctance to answer that it's not the time, and carries on in silence letting only the sounds of running water making its way to your ears. it's a calming silence, though you watch as the water surrounding you is slowly dyed by the blood that runs off your body.

it finally hits you just how bad things got, even when before you could in some way write it off like a nightmare and pretend it hadn't really happened. some metaphorical weight presses down on your emotions and you just break as your vision blurs, tears welling up in your eyes.

perhaps noticing your shaking or catching one of the few tears running down your cheeks, the cloth is immediately set aside as Pantalone places a hand to your back. you try desperately to wipe your tears away, but a wet hand isn't the best tool to dry your cheeks with and you only serve to make it worse. a part of you feels hopeless, like a failure to your own team as you know you let them down. you were supposed to be a fighter, a good one at that, husband of one of the Harbingers and somehow you still managed to lose two people.

you feel yourself back in that place, weary as you finally stand, your shoulder stinging, you assume from the initial fall. you clasp a hand over it and rub your thumb on the area, making it sting. you groan at the pain. one of the more medically verse teammates tends to one of the wounded. you walk toward the collapsed body of a fellow fatuu, seeing them unmoving and bleeding into the snow. you practically fall at her side, landing on your knees as you slightly let your feet give out and bring you down to her.

cautious at first, you shake her, trying to roll her over though it hurts you to do so. she remains unresponsive to any poke or prod at her, not even a groan or mumble, and she's so cold.

you're all cold, you tell yourself and try again to shake her awake, "Hey, get up..." but despite everything nothing works, barely able to roll her onto her back to see her face. her eyes are wide open, a look of shock frozen on her face that haunts you, it's enough to make you hesitate, like a harsh slap across the face. "Wake up!" you say again, the desperation building. you know she's not asleep but it doesn't even matter anymore, beginning to feel more and more like a child pounding their fist on the floor throwing a tantrum the less and less put together you become. "WAKE UP DAMNIT! Nobody said you could die like this!"

"Captain, stop!" without warning, you're grabbed from behind and yanked away, sending a throbbing pain shooting through you as their grip is rough on your shoulder "Calm down and look at her. She's gone." they say.

in the blink of an eye it all rushes back to the view of a bath tainted by that same blood, long black hairs tickle your neck as you are held tightly once again. it grounds you just enough to remember that you're safe in a bath, cared for by the man you love.

"I'm such a failure." you choke out those words through your sobs, echoing off the bathroom walls, "They needed me to lead them and I just got them killed. I couldn't even keep my composure when they needed me to pull them together..."

you curl into yourself, squeezing his arm in your hand, "You're not a failure, darling, but you're not used to losing people." his assurance helps, if only slightly, but something about feeling like even someone who seems to care for none understanding your reaction eases your heart a bit. it doesn't do anything to help the dying part, but he's never been good with sincere reassuring words, and he chokes thinking of what to say to you.

all Pantalone can do is hold you and rub your back to let you cry, finishing up quickly to get you out of there and back into his arms bundled up in a towel. just as you feel hopeless for being unable to live up to whatever outlandish expectations you had of yourself, Pantalone feels as if his comfort falls short as he can't stop your crying, though he shushes and assures you it doesn't seem to make it better.

when you reject his offer to go to see a doctor, saying you just want to sleep. he doesn't want to push too much, only asking that you agree to let him disinfect your hand, otherwise letting you dress yourself in fresh clothes he set out for you while he goes to tend to other things momentarily. at the very least, your tears stopped, for now you seem calm again.

he returns to find you've already tucked yourself away bundled up in the covers, brushing your bangs from your faces and leaning down to kiss your temple. "I'll be with you in just a moment, darling." he whispers to you, earning a noise of acknowledgement.

stepping away only to change his clothes and let his hair down, he sits back on the edge of the bed, though on his side. he removes his glasses, folding them and setting them down on the nightstand. it's an unusual silence knowing you're lying right there behind him. he's so used to you talking to him right up until he tells you to go to sleep, and yet you seem so exhausted and drained. you're not used to losing people. he has to remember that you're more emotional than he is, but he doesn't mind--likes it in fact--as it's usually a good thing. just...not now.

he sighs to himself, unable to help it. he hates this, seeing you so upset, so unlike yourself. he hates feeling so powerless watching you punish yourself for something you couldn't have changed, like some passive observer in your life. his words don't help, and there's little he can do to take away those memories or even fix your body.

there is one thing Pantalone can do, the thought of resigning himself to simply being a source of comfort, someone to support you so you can cry as much as you want. it's better to cry in somebody's arms, isn't it? he turns on his side to face you, who faces away from him. he's not sure why, you just happened to be comfortable there. feeling his hand against your side, you shuffle closer and allow him to wrap his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

you let out another shaky breath, closing your eyes again. above all else you feel safe. given everything he's done for you, you can't ask for more, though even just being by his side is enough to put your anxiety to rest. still, it hurts. not even physically, but your heart won't stop aching, and unable to distract yourself you replay the sequence of events in your mind once more.

an ambush, the ensuing fight, a firm whack to the head which you still haven't discerned the source of, boots running and kicking up snow all around you as you watch through blurred vision, you manage to block a sword that swings down at you though in the stupidest way possible, you finally get your head straight and get up and fight more.

where did she die? more importantly when did she die? if you can just remember that maybe you would know what you did wrong, what to fix.

you become distracted again, knowing you're shaking and back to holding back your tears. what pulls you away most of all is Pantalone's voice, "Don't cry, darling, it's over now. You're home."

you grip his hand tightly, fingers intertwining with his. "Is it...is it ok if you talk to me more?" you ask quietly, "I think..."

"That's hardly a difficult request." he says, squeezing your hand in reassurance, "If it would help you fall asleep."