#thanks for reading this. and any of these. and anything I write.

[gothicfied]

can you write a squid game fic or head cannons of other characters finding out the reader is struggling with self harm? If so, thank you and I understand it is a sensitive topics and may be uncomfortable to write.

Squid Game season 2 characters x reader who struggles with sh

Featuring: Thanos / Player 230, Se-mi / Player 380, Cho Hyun-ju / Player 120, Nam-gyu / Player 124, Kang Dae-ho / Player 388, Park Min-su / Player 125, Kim Jun-hee / Player 222

(Trigger) Warnings: Mention/Talk about sh, depression, and things of this nature, this is comfort/angst, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

Summary: Basically what the ask says

A/N: hey! I hope this is what you imagined, sorry if some of these are ooc😞🙏

Thanos / Player 230

જ⁀➴ Before he really knew, he'd constantly make your life a living hell, basically making fun of your shyness. He'd make certain comments to which he knew you wouldn't react to or would try to persuade you to vote in favor of the game containing.

જ⁀➴ You'd constantly tell him off and to leave you alone. It didn't really help, though. Thanos would just sit down next to you and talk your ear off about what he wanted to do with that prize money.

જ⁀➴ When you stood up to leave, rollung your eyes at him, he grabbed you by your wrist.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Thanos blurted out, giving you an offended glare. "You know, it's really rude to just leave a conversation like that." When you tried to get out of his grip, your sleeves rode up your arm, revealing scars you weren't proud of or wanted him to see. When you realized it, he did too, immediately letting go of you.

જ⁀➴ Since Thanos knew what it meant to struggle with mental health he did actually leave you alone for now. But, after the next game, he approached you again and sat down next to you. "I'm sorry about yesterday." he said, patting you on the back.

જ⁀➴ He related to you in a way, but didn't want to ask you about what went on in your private life. Now you just appreciated that he seemingly didn't overstep any boundaries anymore and even checked up from you every now and then.

Se-mi / Player 380

જ⁀➴ You and her had been a duo ever since she came up to you and complimented your looks. Even if you denied it or not, she'd repeat it multiple times, winning you over with her charm quickly.

જ⁀➴ You two had the same mindset on a lot of things, originally voting 'O', thinking you were able to survive one more lousy game. That game was a death scare. Nothing about it was funny anymore. You appreciated your life too much these days to die like this.

જ⁀➴ When the second favor didn't go your way, both Se-mi and you now voting 'X', you felt helpless. One night, the two of you were sitting on her bed, just talking about your past and how you got to this point in the first place. While Se-mi was more secluded, only telling you that 'there are so much worse things she had to face when she got out' you trusted her enough to tell her about a sensitive time in your life.

"I'm not really secretive about this anymore," you pushed your sleeves up, revealing faded scars along your forearm, "but yeah. It was all pretty fucked up. The whole debt thing didn't make it any better." Se-mi looked at you with raised eyebrows, her fingers tracing the lines on your wrists. "I knew you were strong. Don't worry, we'll get out of here."

જ⁀➴ She put in double the work to protect you — She just wanted you to start a better life with that money and be happy, free from debt and all of it.

Cho Hyun-ju / Player 120

જ⁀➴ Hyun-ju noticed from the start that you were more secluded, more prone to cry, panicked easily. It was clear to her that you were struggling with this situation, perhaps even more than that. She made it her task to help you as much as she could, comfort you and keep you close to her and her group.

જ⁀➴ You'd often rant to her and tell her what bothered you after she reassured her she'd take care of anything possible. Hyun-ju was the anker you needed in this shithole and you just appreciated her very much. Everything she did seemed to be out of genuine interest and not just to gain your trust and abuse it.

જ⁀➴ Accidentally, Hyun-ju did catch a glimpse of the scars you were so desperate to hide. She didn't mention it, feeling like it wasn't her place to comment on it. Her heart did break for you, though.

જ⁀➴ From then on, she made sure to speak softer to you and distract you from all the horror around you.

Hyun-ju hugged you tightly against her chest, her arms engulfing your figure. "Tonight things could get a bit scary," she mumbled into your hair while she rested her face against your head, "I just want you to know now rather than find out later. I'll keep you safe, you know that." You just nodded, reciprocating the hug after a few moments.

Nam-gyu / Player 124

જ⁀➴ When he found out, as you didn't make the effort to hide them or anything, he did refrain from provoking you in any way. Nam-gyu related, as he considered his drug use not to be the best thing he could do to his body.

જ⁀➴ Both of you hung around in the same group, since Thanos really wanted you on his team, constantly giving you compliments and flirting with you. It annoyed him to a degree, scoffing everytime Thanos tried to talk to him about how pretty you were, how much he wanted you, give you the world. In Nam-gyu's opinion, he didn't get you.. didn't get what you went through, at all.

જ⁀➴ One evening before lights out, the two of you were teasing each other about something and laughed together — something that rarely occured amongst the other players.

"Want me to show you something?" Nam-gyu asked you, leaning a bit closer. Chuckling, you replied with a 'mhm' and watched him pull up the sleeve of his jacket, revealing skin tracks along the inside of his elbow. You raised an eyebrow: "Oh?" You took his arm to get a closer look, tracing his skin with your fingertips. "Well, we all have our stories, huh?" The man nodded at your wrists, making you look at them too, like you didn't already know what he meant.

જ⁀➴ The both of you grew close to each other, much to his amuse. He was a junkie, you were depressed.. it's like a disaster in the making. But, you didn't care. He was sweet and weirdly kind to you — Not in the way Thanos was. You made sure to hug Nam-gyu a few times more after that, in case it could be the last timd you'd get to do that.

Kang Dae-ho / Player 388

જ⁀➴ You were glad to be on Gi-hun's team from the start, since Dae-ho and you got along really well. As a former Marine, which he was super proud of obviously, he declared he'd protect you immediately after you met, making you laugh.

જ⁀➴ He was kind, strong and funny, but maybe a bit oblivious at times.

During the six-legged pentathlon, you two sat next to each other, cheering the current active team on. Yelling and screaming filled the area as they crossed the finish lind just in time, making everyone erupt in cheers. Dae-ho immediately hugged you with joy, excited to see the five live another day, at least. After pulling back witha laugh, you gave him a small high five with your sleeve rolled back. When noticing scars along your wrist and forearm, the former marine gasped pretty loudly. "What?" you asked with genuine concerning, fearing something was wrong with you. "Oh, I'm so sorry," Dae-ho pulled your sleeve back over your arm. "Dude," he looked at you with wide eyes "it's fine." You needed to hold back a laugh.

જ⁀➴ Dae-ho felt so bad to havs accidentally seen something you've been struggling with, that he couldn't help but apologize profusely. You repeated to him that it wasn't a big deal for you and that you were working on this problem, but he didn't stop nonetheless.

જ⁀➴ You thought it was cute how much he seemed to care for you and how often he came up to you just to tell you that he appreciated you. And Dae-ho did, he didn't just say that to make you feel better.

Park Min-su / Player 125

જ⁀➴ Min-su is just shy over all. When he noticed it, he wouldn't say a thing. He'd be dead silent, maybe even a bit scared to talk to you. He was just scared he'd make it awkward, somehow hinting that he knew about your scars. Min-su was just someone who overthought a lot and even you noticed it.

જ⁀➴ After a bit, it annoyed you — The sudden lack of his presence next to you, the fact that he wouldn't properly talk to you anymore, it was all just weird and confusing. So, you decided to ask him directly.

"Did I do something wrong?" your voice wasn't stern, but Min-su could tell that you were kind of upset. "Ah, no-" he quickly replied back, shaking his head, "it's really not you!" He looked at you with his typical innocent face, making it hard for you to keep pressing him about this matter. "Then what is it, seriously?"

જ⁀➴ He explained what he saw and said that he just felt so sorry. Well, at least he didn't speak to you because he didn't want to hurt or upset you, which was really thoughtful.

જ⁀➴ You'd expect that he would now be the one to comfort you or something, but no it was the complete opposite. Min-su seemed to worried about you and kept asking you how you were feeling or if anything bothered you. You had to keep reassuring him that those times were in the past and that he didn't have to be so worried.

જ⁀➴ It was really cute though, so you let it slide.

Kim Jun-hee / Player 222 (implied fem!reader)

જ⁀➴ Since Jun-hee and you were pretty close in age, you two had found each other right away. You kept telling her that she needed more protection, or at least an ally like you, on her side sincs she was pregnant. You weren't really serious about that, just chuckling when bringing it up, but ut definitely made Jun-hee trust you a lot more. It was a critical situation she was in and she was glad to have you by her side.

જ⁀➴ You even banged on the door in the middle of the night to make the guards take her to the bathroom when she was to shy to do it herself.

As ths pink guard brought you to the womens bathroom, Jun-hee held onto you, clearly being in pain. A few minutes later, you were washing your hands and tried to fix yourself up, looking a bit disgusted in the mirror. "What is it?" Jun-hee emerged from one of the stalls, chuckling. "Man, I look like a damn zombie. Look what this place has done to us." Instead of getting a reply, you noticed that she was staring at your arms, at your scars. You had taken your jacket off for convenience and kind of forgot about them. "Oh, I'm sor-" Jun-hee interrupted you, "No! No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have stared like that!"

જ⁀➴ Obviously everyone had their struggles, but now her own kind of seemed insignificant next to yours. You were doing so much for her and she didn't even know that you were struggling. She should've thought of that.

જ⁀➴ When voicing that thought to you, you felt bad that you made her feel like that. With a hug, it was all sorted out. Jun-hee cared deeply for you and she could tell that you cared for her like that, too. It was nice to know that someone had your back in a place like this.

[daeranilen]

I have a very loose template for commenting on fic chapters that goes like this:

Pick ONE (1) part of the chapter I really liked (anything from a single sentence to a paragraph)

Quote it at the beginning of my comment

Give specific praise for that specific part for two or three sentences

Optional: Repeat steps 1-3 as much as I like

Close with any variation on "Can't wait to read the next chapter!" (or, if it hasn't updated in a long time/you're at the end of the fic/whatever, just thanking the author for writing it)

For anyone who gets so caught up overthinking what to comment that they never comment: steal my template or make your own. Give yourself the gift of structure! It helps!

BTW i see these posts all the time like "ohhh i dont know what to comment on fics.." and every response is "keysmashes! or hearts!! anything works :3" and thats GREAT!! thats helpful!!

but: consider. if u genuinely like analyzing writing.. do u know ur just allowed to go through and quote your favorite parts and ramble abt what they mean to u and the author will LOSE IT WITH HYPE?

genuinely. i felt SO WEIRD the first time i did it.. but like. holy shit authors love it. its crack for authors. the first time i did it, it was on a fic that hadnt updated in half a year, give or take, and the author made 3 updates that month BECAUSE OF MY COMMENT.

LIKE. as an author every comment is INCREDIBLE!!! but also, dont feel like your comment has to be short or otherwise ur invasive or smth!! authors ADORE long comments more than ANYTHING.

[basicallyjeankirschtein]

lost and found - toji x reader x sukuna

chapter 6: meeting sukuna

summary: gojo and geto ditched you (again, after promising not too) but thankfully there’s another man there for you (:

warnings: ooc sukuna (i’m sorry i just think it’s so cute when a big scary man is mean to everyone but soft towards you), a teensy bit suggestive MDNI, not proof read

* this chapter is mostly writing!

masterlist. prev. next

you bit your bottom lip as you noticed the texts coming in from your friends, conveniently after the fact you’ve already asked for sukuna to drive you home.

sukuna surprised you. he looked scary, acted scary, sounded scary, and beat up gojo! you didn’t expect him to be so helpful, and to call you cute?

you were trying to side with the rational side of your brain, oh, he’s just saying that to get in your pants, but something told you that you could trust him.

sukuna did not lie when he said he would take only fifteen minutes. actually, he even got here in twelve minutes. your thoughts that told you you could trust him vanished immediately when you saw how huge and scary he was.

he towered over you, he was fucking huge. he had these huge muscles that looked like they could crush a man. he had these intricate tattooed scattered around his body, and suddenly you wondered if he was here to get revenge on gojo- not to help you.

“y/n.” he spoke in a deep, cold voice. it made you uneasy. he spoke like your name was a statement, staring at you coldly. you wondered if this is just how he always was.

“hi,” you managed to say, your voice small as if you were trying to hide yourself. you looked down at your feet, a bit nervous. when you finally had the courage to look up at him, his cheeks were tinged red. was he cold?

sukuna coughed awkwardly, “hi.”

you weren’t quite sure where to lead the conversation. should you just give him your address? you tried to search his face for any emotion, but his face was stoic. the only sign of life on his face being his flushed cheeks.

when you were about to speak up, you notified sukunas eyes widened. you quirked an eyebrow, pouting as you turned around to see what got him so surprised. before you could notice anything, sukuna took your hand and spun you around.

the action made you gasp, stumbling into him. to your surprise, this intimidating man began spewing apologies.

“shit, ‘m sorry.” he mumbled, glancing at your wrist to make sure he didn’t leave a bruise. “let’s bring you home. it’s getting late.” he insisted, not waiting for your answer as he brought you out to his car.

you didn’t protest as he opened the passenger side door for you, politely helping you sit down. if it weren’t for the circumstances, you’d have blushed and wondered if he was trying to be romantic.

“thank you, again.” you said sheepishly, hiding your shyness behind a giggle. he sighed, nodding. “no worries. if you need anything again, you can text me.”

again? you assumed this was a one time thing, to make up for beating up your best friend.

“no worries.” you told him, but he quickly shut you up.

“i’m being serious.” his tone definitely was serious, he sounded like he was mad. it made you uneasy all over again, practically curling into yourself. he was a scary, scary man.

when he noticed your discomfort, his face and tone visibly softened. “sorry.” he spoke, sighing to himself as he ran a hand through his hair, putting the car in drive.

“what’s your address?” he asked, trying to change the subject. you stammered out your address, still a bit nervous of his intentions. he muttered a thank you before beginning the drive to your place.

“i mean it.” he said, about ten minutes into the awkwardly silent car drive. you tilted your head, confused. “hm?” you hummed.

sukuna coughed awkwardly, the second time for that night. “i mean, if you need anything. if gojo tries something again-“ his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “don’t feel afraid to text, or call me. i can beat him up again, too. or beat up that other friend of yours.”

you couldn’t help the loud giggle that escaped your lips, “i’ll have to think about it.” you joked, though truthfully, you didn’t want to see either of them hurt. they may have hurt you, but you wouldn’t hurt them back. that’s not the type of person you were.

“you should leave them.” he said, turning into the parking lot of your apartment complex.

“huh?” you asked, eyes wide as he suggested such a thing. you knew after this event gojo and geto weren’t to be trusted as your friends anymore, but you didn’t actually think about the aspect of leaving them entirely.

before you could offer him a response, which you couldn’t really think of anyways, your thoughts were interrupted by a ding of your phone.

oh shit.

was that why sukuna looked so shocked? and he was so adamant of getting you out of that cafe so fast?

you don’t know if you should feel guilty for your friends, hurt that they’re mad at you even thought they ditched you first, or flustered that sukuna was concerned about your feelings. maybe all three.

sukuna seemed to notice your discomfort, something flashed in his eyes though you couldn’t quite notice what it was.

“you okay?” he asked, his typical cold tone unusually soft. once again, your response was interrupted from a notification, this time from gojo.

“oh no..” you mumbled out loud, biting your bottom lip to stop it from quivering. how embarrassing would it be to start crying in sukunas car?

“what’s wrong?” sukuna asked, his tone almost demanding. “what did gojo do?” sukuna seemed to have already known the center of your worry.

“d-drop me off before you reach my apartment building.” you spoke, making sukuna furrow his eyebrows together.

“this late? no. what did gojo do?” he persisted, his tone getting angrier and angrier. it was embarrassing, but you’ve always been sensitive when people raised their voice or got a mean tone with you.

“he saw us-“ you began, overwhelmed by all your emotions surrounding gojo and geto and your sensitivity to sukunas tone. “he’s mad.” you said after taking a deep breath, hoping to calm yourself down. “they’re already on their way to my apartment-“

this made sukuna growl. you didn’t even know a human was capable of making such a scary noise. if it was directed towards you, you’d start crying right here right now, but it wasn’t. it was directed at the assholes that hurt you. and that made you weak. you never even knew you had a kink for this thing-

“that bastard.” he groaned, voice raising as his knuckles turned white from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. it made you a bit scared, bottom lip trembling once more as he raised his voice.

“i’m going to bring you to my place. is that okay?” he spoke. he must’ve noticed your discomfort, as he tried to tone himself down. though you could still tell he was seething.

you probably should’ve declined. you didn’t know this man. maybe he was a serial killer and this is how he lured his prey. either way, you’d either be dead to gojo and geto, or this hot man. you’d rather die to the hot man.

“o-okay.” you spoke, voice shaky as you got the courage to speak.

“i won’t hurt you. i’ve got a roommate who can vouch. shit-“ he growled, suddenly remembering he’d have to warn his roommate he was bringing you home.

“just tell my roommate im bringing you over, or he’ll hurt me.” he forced a chuckle, trying to ease your nerves. it didn’t work, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

sukuna handed you his phone, giving you the password to his phone without a second thought.

“his contact name is toji, just say i’m bringing you home.”

i hope u enjoy my writing! i’m gonna be so fr the last time i wrote actual fanfiction was in middle school when i wrote bts fanfic.. so my writing has probably not improved at all but i enjoy writing this stuff out (:

tag list

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@anonnieghost @tyunswifey @ex1acy @t4naiis @shizukaay0 @ivydoesit23

[dear-aubade]

first of all I love your writing style 💔

second: can you make a drabble where Joel comforts reader during her cold or any kind of sickness, maybe even usual stomachache aand then they have soft cute gentle xex, and he whispers praises to her, soothing all of her aches, lyyy

- 🐿️

Awwe thank you for the kind words anon, I’m glad you like my work! Here you go!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: You try to hide your sickness from Joel because you don’t want to stress him out. It doesn’t work.

Notes: Sick fic, praise kink, soft!dom!joel, sub!reader, sick!reader, reader is in her head a lot, unprotected p in v, reader is very much Joel’s baby, READER IS NOT PREGNANT SHE’S JUST NAUSEOUS

It was normal for you to be reserved. A little quieter than most, a little more soft. Joel knew you better than anybody, and he could tell when you’d slipped into your daydreams, just needing a few moments to drift off within your own head.

But this…this was different.

The day had started off as usual. You and Joel woke up together tangled in blankets, his strong arms holding you close. But the moment you blinked your bleary eyes awake you gave him a swift kiss and mumbled, “M’gonna go shower” before leaving him alone in bed.

Things only got stranger from there. That afternoon Joel was scheduled to leave for a short patrol with Tommy—lately there had been more Clicker sightings, so he and his brother had increased the amount of rotations needed per day. Joel didn’t want to leave you alone when he suspected something was wrong, but it was necessary for him to go if they wanted to keep Jackson a safe haven.

Normally when he was about to leave you’d get all teary-eyed and try to get as many kisses from him as you could before he took off. This time, however, you gave him a short smile and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

That sent Joel’s suspicion through the roof. He had studied your face, searching for any indication there might be something off. Your eyes were a little droopy, but he also knew that the night before you’d been up late with him reading to you…

“Is everything okay, baby?” he had asked softly.

Something flickered in your eyes and a little v appeared between your brow as it creased in confusion. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know, I’m just a little worried about you.”

At that, you gave him an innocent smile. “I’m just tired, Joel. I’m okay.” You stood on your tiptoes to press your lips to his in a soft peck. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Against his better judgement, he’d left. But that didn’t stop him from worrying about you all throughout patrol.

You felt absolutely awful.

In the morning you’d woken with quite possibly the worst stomach ache you’d ever experienced. You thought a shower might make you feel better, that your body was just disagreeing with something you’d eaten the day before.

It got worse. It seemed that anything you did made the nausea flare up. All you wanted to do was be Joel’s princess for the day, to whine until he took you in his arms and hushed your cries with sweet words and sweeter kisses.

But he had patrol that day, and you didn’t want him to worry. You weren’t supposed to make him worry, you were supposed to be his good girl. You didn’t want him distracted—you knew he’d been stressed about the increased Clicker sightings and you didn’t want to add more to the burden he was already carrying.

And so you stayed silent about it. You smiled at him and sent him on his way, and finally, finally when you were alone, you snuggled up back in bed.

You were freezing. Even with the thick blankets piled on top of you, you still were shivering, and your stomach ache stayed constant. Even your mind began to fuzz to the point where you didn’t know how long it had been since Joel left. You stopped caring about the need to pretend everything was fine—you just wanted him.

You weren’t in the living room when Joel got back. Normally you’d be there waiting since it was the closest comfy place to the door, so the moment you heard the door open you could run and embrace him in a flurry of kisses.

But you weren’t there.

“Baby?” he called out, shutting the door behind him.

No response.

He frowned and took his shoes off, then shed his thick snow jacket and gloves. Beneath he was just wearing dark-washed jeans and his signature flannel.

In your room, all Joel saw was a lump beneath the thick gray comforter. “Darlin’?” Joel crossed the room and knelt beside the bed. Were you asleep? Did—

“Joel?” Your voice was strained, small. You rolled over and Joel’s stomach sank. Your eyes were hazy, your cheeks slightly flushed. Had you been crying?

“Sweetheart,” he whispered. “What’s wrong?”

He cupped your cheek and your bottom lip quivered for a moment before you burst into tears.

“Oh, baby.” He promptly stood and got into bed with you, pulling you into his arms. You were so much smaller than him, so easy to pick up and hold against him. “I gotcha. Shh,” he soothed.

You cried quietly into his chest as you clung to him while he smoothed back your hair and pressed gentle kisses to your head. His words were soft murmurs.

“It’s okay darlin’, I’m here now. S’alright….deep breaths sweetheart, can you do that for me? Can you—oh, good girl. That’s it, just keep taking deep breaths for me…”

Eventually your sobs quieted, though a tear still fell down your cheek every now and then. After a few more minutes of holding you, Joel spoke again.

“What’s wrong, honey?” he prompted. “Can you tell me what happened?”

You sniffled. “Just….” Your brow creased. “Jus’ don’t feel good.”

Joel hummed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t want you to worry.” Your bottom lip trembled. “I didn’t want—“

“Hey, don’t start again,” he cooed softly, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “You don’t ever have to think that ever again, you hear? I like worrying about you. You’re my baby, ‘s my job to take care of you.”

He saw your reaction to that—lips parting, brows relaxing, eyes going a little doe like.

“You like hearin’ me say that?” he murmured, thumb gently caressing your cheekbone, catching another stray tear. “Like that I take care of you?”

You nodded, eyes big and wide.

Joel kissed your forehead. “You need me to distract you a little bit baby? Make all the bad feelings go away for awhile?”

“Mhmm.” Your little voice was breathless.

Joel chuckled. “Alright honey. You just keep laying there n’ lookin’ pretty—don’t gotta do any of the work.”

Your head had been fuzzy before because of the sickness, but it was nothing compared to now. When Joel talked to you like this, held you like this…it made everything around him grow foggy.

He slid his hand beneath the waistband of your sweatpants and his index finger started to tease your bud over your panties. You squirmed.

“Wigglin’ already baby? I haven’t even done anything yet.” You could hear the smile in Joel’s voice.

His fingers slid past your underwear to dip into your wetness. You whined and tucked your face into the crook of his neck, embarrassed at how slippery you were already.

Joel chuckled and held you tighter. “It’s okay, sweet girl. Nothing wrong with bein’ ready.”

You whimpered as his fingers circled the outside of your entrance. You shook your head at his teasing. “Want your cock,” you whined so sweetly in his ear. “I can take it, promise….just want you to make it all better.”

“Awe baby,” Joel crooned, pressing another kiss to your hair. “Okay. Just give me a sec…”

He shifted to pull down his pants and boxers and toss them to the side. He was already hard against your hip. Laying side-by-side, your chest to his, Joel slid his length past your folds.

Oh….you could have sworn you forgot about your aches and pains right in that moment. He made you feel so full. He was so big, so thick and warm….you could feel him all the way up in your tummy.

Joel let out a sigh that bordered on a groan. “You’re so perfect, sweetheart. So good…”

He started to rock his hips gently and you whimpered, burying your face into his chest.

He chuckled. “So shy, baby. That’s okay, you just sit there…don’t gotta worry about a single thing.”

One of your legs hooked over his hip as his pace sped up and you clung to him the whole way through. You felt so…so…oh, you feel him dragging along your walls so nicely. You were absolute putty in his arms—Joel always made you feel that way, always gave you such big feelings it made you feel too small to hold them all.

“So good, baby,” he cooed. “Such a good girl, taking me so well…just lay there and let me fill you up—oh, you’re so tight around me princess…”

You could feel it then, that big feeling. The one that made you whimper and whine, trying to hide your face more than it already was. “Joel…”

“It’s okay, just let it happen.” His pelvis was rubbing against your bundle of nerves oh so nicely it made you dizzy. “Let me feel you finish on my cock, darlin’, you’re so good for me, so good…”

Every coo and murmur only brought you higher. You let out another high-pitched whine as the feeling started to become too much, too tight too hot too everything, oh you were right there, you…

You cried out as you reached your peak and then fell over the edge. Joel held you the whole way through as you clenched around him and he spilled inside of you, murmuring praises the whole time.

“Good girl, good girl….my pretty baby, you’re doing so well, taking my cock in that pretty pussy of yours….that’s it sweetheart…”

He rocked his hips gently to help bring you down from your high, slowly decreasing his pace until he came to an eventual stop.

He held you in his arms, your body against his. You hummed contentedly and nuzzled at his neck.

Joel smiled. “Feel better, sweet girl?”

“Mmm.”

Joel chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He kissed your forehead. “Why don’t we get in the bath for a bit to clean up, and then I’ll make you some soup? Nothing that will be too harsh on your stomach.”

You blinked drowsily and nodded. “Mhmm. I’d like that.”

Yes, you’d like that very much indeed.

[pleasureable]

Love Potions

Summary - Thanos was used to having girls throw themselves at him. As he got older, the feeling of simply using somebody for self-gratification became exhilarating for him. He never thought a girl could have him in a chokehold until he met you, pink haired and all.

Warnings - Mentions of weed, reader has pink hair again because yes, high school au, kinda short (2k word count, was too exhausted to make it any longer please forgive me), ooc thanos once again? please excuse any grammatical errors, not really proofread

A/N - Might be my last long piece on here for a little, I'll probably write some drabbles or head cannons here and there, though! Once again, thank you so much for all the love on Pink Goes Well with Purple, it warms my heart so much every time I see all the engagement on it.

Thanos never took anything, or anyone, seriously. Girls had always found him attractive, and halfway through his 7th-grade year, he realized he liked female attention. He had never genuinely liked someone, though. Every girl he decided to "pursue" was either too clingy or as he would put it, "too much of a cock-drunk bitch".

Knowing exactly how to play the game, he approached all his intended targets with feigned interest and used their obvious attraction to him to his advantage. He would stick around for a few days pretending to care about their likes and interests, then dump them like toxic waste once he got them into his bed. He loved how these girls would completely submit themselves to him, he loved how he could openly toy with them yet still have them begging for his love and affection.

Thanos loved the power.

He had woken up to his phone buzzing from its lying position on his nightstand. "20+ unread messages from Lindsey", the notification read. "Hop off my fuckin' dick, bitch" he mumbled in his groggy, half-awake state. He had gone to some random house party with his buddies the night before, all in hopes of getting totally shit-faced and finding some bimbo who would be willing to help him get his dick wet.

To his annoyance, friends of Lindsey's had taken candid photos of him swapping spit with some chick in a corner. He didn't care about Lindsey's feelings; he just didn't want to deal with her inevitable tantrum once she was informed of his actions. He was getting ready to dump her anyway as she was probably the clingiest of the girls Thanos had been with. Always going off on jealousy-fueled tangents regarding his flirty attitude toward other girls, always begging for him to "change his ways for her". Ha, in your fucking dreams.

Arriving at school, he was immediately greeted with the sight of her tear-stained face, "What the fuck were you doing last night, Thanos?! I saw you kissing some fucking bitch at that party last night!" She wept, though it clearly wasn't phasing him. Thanos wore a stone-cold expression as he walked through the halls of the high school with Lindsey hot on his trail. He spotted his history class and walked in, leaving her behind, the door closing firmly in her face.

The first few minutes of class went by in a blur, usual rambling from his teacher and stupid antics from his friends give a monotonous tone to his already shitty day.

Without warning, the classroom door swings open.

You walk in, clad in your black Aeropostale tracksuit, pink hair lightly curled with slightly red-rimmed glassy eyes. Students turn to look at you, some wearing an  expression reminiscent of admiration. "Oh! You must be Y/N", the teacher said. "Have a seat wherever, we were just getting ready to start class."

He couldn't help but check you out. To him, you were quite possibly the most beautiful, angel-like thing he had ever laid eyes upon. His eyes scanned you up and down, staring at the way your tits looked squeezed into your jacket, a small diamond-studded necklace with your initial resting perfectly between them. Miraculously, you opted to sit in the empty seat right in front of him. The smell of sweet perfume and hint of weed that clung to you was intoxicating, filling his nostrils and leaving him entranced.

You shattered Thanos' cocky facade in an instant, leaving his mind a complete blank. The fact that he felt a way no other person had ever made him feel before didn't go unnoticed by him, and he wasn't so sure he hated it. The chance to talk to you presented itself, and he immediately began racking his brain to figure out what to say; in the end, he settled on asking for something simple: a pencil.

"Hey señorita, you got a pencil I could borrow?" He asked. You turned your head and began to look at him over your shoulder, his breath hitched. Your eyes were breathtaking, everything about you was perfect. You pulled a pencil from the pocket of your sweatpants and handed it to him, your pretty manicured nails catching his eye. "You can keep it." You spoke, voice as soft as silk. The pink, glitter-ridden Hello Kitty pencil you handed him made him crack a smile, you were adorable.

You had just met him but even so, Thanos was already feigning for you. He wanted you, wanted to know what those pretty pink lips of yours taste like.

Class went by in a flash, the only thing Thanos recalled from the past hour was him admiring your curves through the openings on the back of the school chair. Once the bell rang, everyone began to exit the room. You left the classroom so swiftly that it was almost ghost-like, Thanos scrambled to leave as quickly as you did, not wanting to let you out of his sight. Just as he was about to follow you through the halls, his buddy caught up to him and grabbed onto his shoulder. "Yo T, that new girl? Fuckin' hot shit." His friend Nam-Gyu spoke. "Back off dude, I call dibs." Thanos said, jealousy apparent in his voice.

“What? Since when do we call dibs on girls?” Nam-gyu responded, his face twisting in confusion. Thanos never cared about girls enough to publicly claim them as his, but you were different. He could feel it.”Since now, man. She’s fuckin’ perfect, I don’t know what it is about her.” Thanos said, just the thought of you was already clouding up his thoughts in the best way possible. Nam-Gyu realized his friend was serious, he’d never seen Thanos act this way over anyone. As surprised as he was at his friend’s sudden new attitude, Nam-Gyu was still a tad bit annoyed he couldn’t have a piece of you. You were hot shit, after all. “Whatever, man.” Nam-Gyu huffed. 

The last thing Thanos really remembered from today was going into the boys bathroom to hide from Lindsey (and to smoke some weed), as she was still currently hunting him down like some deranged serial killer. He hadn’t seen much of you since history class, though he could probably blame that on the blunt he had hit. He remembered seeing slight flashes of pink throughout the day, but that’s about it. He kept a mental image of the way you looked at him when he asked for that pencil, your pretty, doe eyes were unforgettable. 

The next morning, for the first time in a very long time, Thanos felt like he had something to look forward to that day. Knowing he got to see you again was enough for him to get out of bed with the energy mimicking that of a little kid on an intense sugar-high. 

Once at school, he made b-lined for his history class. He was the very first student there but he didn’t care, all he cared about was getting to see that certain pink-haired angel walk in once again. As students began to pile into the class, he finally caught a glimpse of you. Your white lace camisole gave you an ethereal glow, complemented by the delicate, gold heart-shaped locket around your neck. Your fitted jeans accentuate your curves, and the subtle shine of your belly piercing added a touch of allure. Just as Thanos felt like you couldn’t get any better. 

Though, for obvious reasons, Thanos wasn’t the only boy who had his eye on you. Once you had sat down, his jaw began to tighten when he noticed Myung-Gi practically having a staring contest with your body. His pre-existing hatred for him only grew the longer Myung-Gi’s eyes lingered on you, a little green monster marking its territory inside of him. 

Thanos reached out his hand to tap your shoulder. “Hey, you got another pencil I could borrow?” he asked, a sheep-ish grin making its way onto his face. He realized the stupidity of his question but deep down, he just wanted to get a one-up on Myung-Gi. His breath hitched once more as you turned around to look at him. “What happened to the one I gave you yesterday? Lost it already?” You asked, “Lost? Nah, it’s just playing hard to get.” His dumb joke made you laugh a little, and to him, it was like pure music to his ears.

“Well if I give you another one will you lose it?” The flirty undertones of the conversation had begun making themselves apparent. While Thanos was pretty appealing, it was clear he was the kind of guy you wouldn’t necessarily want to be romantically involved with. Just because you wouldn’t date him didn’t mean you couldn’t have your fun with him, though. “If losing it means I get to talk to you again, then no promises, beautiful.” Thanos playfully replied, topping his sentence off with a wink. Cute, you thought. “Well then in that case, here you go, handsome.” You handed him another pencil, My Melody themed this time.

You two had spent the rest of the class period chatting, with the occasional scolding from your teacher for laughing just a little too loud. Once the bell had rang, Thanos stopped you in your tracks before you could exit the classroom, “Why don’t you give me your number so that we can hangout sometime, beautiful?” He asked. For maybe the first time in his life, Thanos The Great feared rejection. He had always thought of himself quite highly, but you were greater than every god or goddess that had ever lived. He didn’t want to mess this up.

You smiled. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a pink gel pen and swiftly wrote your digits down on the soft skin of his hand, to his relief. “Send me a text soon, grape jelly.” You shot him a playful glance before turning around and vanishing into the sea of people flooding the hallway. For a moment, he just stood there, admiring the neatly written numbers on his hand, his heart full. 

Upon his arrival home, Thanos immediately ran up to his room. Throwing himself onto his bed, his mind began to ponder on what to text you. His desperate need to have you was becoming unbearable for him, he needed more than just a conversation to fill the you-shaped hole in his heart. Just as his mind felt as if it was continuously falling into a seemingly endless hole of contemplation, his phone buzzed, signifying the arrival of a text. “You down to get high, grape jelly?” The text read, the stupid (but cute) nickname confirming your identity to him. It was as if his fingers had a mind of their own because in an instant, they began typing up a reply.

 “Of course, sweet thing. Where are we meeting?” 

“Meet me at the park near school in an hour.” You replied.

Excitement was all that was running through Thanos’s head at the thought of spending alone time with you. You were completely and utterly heaven sent.

He began to blast music while laying on his bed, just staring at the ceiling in an attempt to pass time. He continued to fantasize about you, everything about you. Your angelic facial features, your body, your voice. The way you looked at him for the first time. He hadn’t known you for even a week, yet already you were making him feel things that girls he’d known for years had never even come close to making him feel. 

Laying there, in his current state of rumination, Thanos realized this was the closest he had ever come to feeling peace in a very long time. 

When enough time had passed, he snapped out of his thought-induced daze and began to make his way downstairs. Being careful not to wake his parents up, he unlocked the backdoor to his house and shut it behind him, starting to make his way to the designated meet up spot. As soon as he started approaching the park, he noticed a silhouette sitting down at a dimly-lit bench. Getting closer, he recognized the unusually colored hair. 

“Hey, beautiful.” He called out. You looked up from your phone screen to see that now-familiar purple headed man. “Hi.” You responded, a gentle smile taking its place on your face. You passed Thanos the already lit joint in your hand once he took a seat on the bench next to you. He took a hit, paused briefly as the smoke lingered in his lungs, then exhaled, letting the thick cloud roll from his mouth. Taking turns passing the joint amongst yourselves, a peaceful ambience fell upon you both. A sense of calm wrapped around your mind, pushing away the slight nerves you were previously feeling caused by the idea of being alone with Thanos. “I like you, Thanos.” You spoke, the marijuana giving you the courage to speak your mind freely.

“I’ve had my eye on you ever since you got here, beautiful. You’re breathtaking.” He responded. You turned to look at him, tilting your head slightly. “So that’s what the flirty attitude was about?” Giggling, it was all starting to make sense to you. “Of course. Just look at you.” He began to scoot closer, maintaining eye contact. Your pretty, red-rimmed eyes looking up at him made him smile. The sense of euphoria was almost palpable, as if the air itself buzzed with an electric warmth, wrapping you both in a blanket of bliss and exuding a feeling of weightlessness.

Thanos had gotten so close to the point where the tips of your noses were touching. Your current situation felt like a dream, a dream which you didn’t want to wake up from. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, heart racing as the air between you seemed to grow thicker, filled with an unspoken sexual tension. “K-kiss me, please.” You whispered, the need to feel his mouth on yours becoming hard to endure. He pressed his lips to yours, his breath warm against your skin. The kiss deepened, his lips parting slightly to explore yours slowly, sending a shiver down your spine. His hand slid to the back of your neck, gently pulling you closer, the intensity building with every second that passed.

As you pulled away, both of you were left breathless, your lips tingling and a bit swollen from the intensity of the kiss, cheeks flushed. “You’re good at kissing,” you said, feeling a bit dizzy from the lip-locking. “I could say the same thing about you, pretty girl.”

You ignited a fire within Thanos, and its cause was inexplicable. Maybe it was your friendly and gentle nature that drew him to you, but whatever the case was, you made him want to be better. You had him under a love potion, and he wasn’t planning on breaking the spell anytime soon.

[zepskies]

Omg really? Wow, thank you so much. That's honestly amazing to me, considering this was one of the hardest for me to write in Smoke Eater. 💞

(But after reading your wonderful review, thank you for making me cry. 🥹💗💗)

First of all, please don't apologize for the heartfelt thoughts you want to share with me. No matter how long or short, I love hearing what you think about my writing, and this is genuinely one of the best reviews I've ever received, because I can tell it came from the heart.

What's crazy is my mom and I also used to watch Chicago Fire together when she was trying to recover from surgery (where she had terrible complications and wasn't well for a long time). It became her comfort show, and I was happy to introduce it to her/have that bonding time where it kept her from thinking about her pain. But I'm so glad you thought to come here to perk yourself up after a rewatch.

honestly I have so many thoughts for each wonderful chapter but I would feel super guilty for spamming :’) this chapter in particular though, hits me harder than anything i’ve ever read before — not in a bad way!🤍

lol girl that's the best kind of spamming. I'd never be upset with that! 😂 Oh good, I'm glad it doesn't hit in a bad way. I was concerned about that for readers when I was first posting this part of the story. 💙

my mom had epilepsy, and I was her caretaker pretty much my entire life. I connect so much with this story because it, feels like i’m reading a mirror, if that makes any sense at all. with all the doctors and the worrying, it’s written so authentically, which is understandable after reading your author’s note. i’m so sorry you’ve experienced such difficult hardships and losses yourself honey, I offer my sincere condolences. and i’m sending you the biggest hugs 🫂🤍🤍

I'm sending you the biggest hugs right back, friend. I'm so sorry about what your mom went through, and what you went through too. Being a caretaker is not easy. I've seen it enough in my family that that's what I drew from in order to write this, so I'm glad it felt authentic to your experience. 🫂💞

now these lines/parts specifically had me crying like a baby lol. december of 2021, my mom had to have surgery at the start of the month. her recovery was going a little slow, but well. however she passed away overnight, 2 days after christmas, completely unexpected. the day before she had been doing so well too— she had more energy and was more mobile without needing as much assistance. came to find out later that’s something nurses call a surge? :/ either way, those moments in particular really tugged at my heartstrings ❤️‍🩹

I'm so sorry for your loss, my friend. It is blind sighting when it comes so unexpected like that. I haven't shared this publicly, but something similar happened with my grandfather this past December. His health declined suddenly, to the point we had to take him to the hospital. After seeming to get better after a few days, he went downhill even harder, and he passed away in mid-December. It's not the same thing as your situation, but I understand the feeling of "why did this happen like this?" But now he's at peace with my grandma. And your mom is free from her pain and discomfort too. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

this line too. I felt this way for so long after my mom died. I didn’t get the final cause for a while since she passed at home and not at a hospital, and to this day I wish I could go back. wish I could’ve done something different. but SUDEP (or, sudden unexpected death in epilepsy) is completely unpreventable so far. I just find it so cruel that this illness I spent my whole life helping her with, ended up taking her anyway and nothing I did mattered in the end. so reading that line, how she broke down, and everything she had been holding in, it really made my heart ache but I also felt less alone in a way.

And I'm sure you did everything you possibly could, just like the reader in this story. 💞 I didn't know about SUDEP, but I have a family member who takes medication for his epilepsy, so I'm going to be reading up on that. I'm so glad that this simple line made you feel less alone in any small way -- I also thought when I was writing that it not only fit what the character was going through, but that other people who've been caretakers for a family member like this would be able to identify with this feeling as well.

everything that followed, it’s like reading a reflection. I shutdown and just went through the motions afterwards too, but ohhh how nice it would’ve been to have a dean ❤️ his support, how he takes care of her, it’s so heartwarming. and it’s really comforting to read. <3

It's that awful "autopilot" thing that somehow allows us to get through the aftermath, in a way, right? If only we could all have a Dean to support us in those moments. Somehow, reading hurt/comfort fics help me feel better too though. 💓💓

a lot of my family distanced themselves afterwards which, it is what it is. that being said, the sentiment in this story of family isn’t always blood resonates with me a lot. my support system is really small, but they chose to be there for me unlike my blood relatives so, that theme in this story means so much — the way dean’s chosen family shows up for her as well, it’s so sweet. 💖

Ugh really? I'm sorry to hear that. 💙💙 But thank you for pointing that out -- that is the overarching theme of this story, a la SPN style. 🥹 Your chosen family can be just as powerful, if not more, than your blood family. And in this story, Dean's family is basically "adopting" the reader/you into it. 💕

I guess the gist of what i’m trying to say, is I wholeheartedly adore this series and it truly means so much to me 🤍 I appreciate your work so much, and I love the unique feeling each piece of your writing brings 💗💗 I know I may sound like a broken record but truly I don’t think I can ever put into words how much I love your blog. you are an absolute sweetheart, truly a light peeking out between cloudy skies 💞

Wow, I really did tear up of happiness. Thank you. 🥹🥹 I appreciate you right back for reading this story and connecting with it like you did. And I'm so glad that you enjoy my blog!! I've only been here on Tumblr for about 2 years actively, but connecting with people like you is what's keeping me here, and honestly gives me energy to write and express myself when I'm going through hard times.

This chapter specifically was very difficult for me to write for multiple reasons, as you saw in my AN, but again it makes me all the more grateful that this is the chapter you connect with the most. I'm very sorry for your loss though. I'm really touched that this story can give you some small comfort. 💞

(And no it's not too much. Thank YOU for taking the time to share this with me.)

Smoke Eater - Part 11

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst warning. But also major hurt/comfort.

Part 11: “Heart of the Home”

You sat very still.

Your hands were gripped together in your lap when the doctor entered. He was tall and lean and blonde, and he would’ve reminded you of your boss, except this man had a kinder face.

You were sitting on the edge of your grandfather’s bed, hoping the doctor would say the bloodwork and scans came back fine. That they wouldn’t need to admit George into the hospital for further testing. That he could go home in the morning.

But your life had never been quite that easy.

“Okay, George. I’m sorry, but we need to admit you,” said the doctor.

He explained that while the malignant tumor of his cancer had been removed last year, the scans that had been done last month hadn’t been able to detect the bright spots now formed on George’s lungs and lymph nodes.

The oncologist would have to confirm, but you all knew where this was headed. Likely those “bright spots” were tumors.

George nodded slowly at first, taking it all in. He asked what his options were, as far as treatment.

“Your oncologist will go over those options with you,” the doctor replied. “We’re going to move you up to Oncology shortly.”

George thanked him.

And you sat very still. 

A hand fell on your arm, finally earning your gaze. George’s face was oddly calm, though the worry in his eyes was for you. You realized that he’d gently called your name, though you hadn’t heard him. Your ears were ringing.

His mouth parted to tell you something, but nothing came out. So instead, he tugged you into his arms, and he heaved a long sigh.

“I guess we’re here again,” he admitted. He let out a chuckle. “The Lord does like his tests…but maybe that car accident was a blessing in disguise, huh?”

You heard his voice, but your mind was buzzing—mainly with the doctor’s words, and with a bone-deep feeling that threatened to consume you.

Your car, your fault. Options, again. Here again.

Your fault.

When you didn’t answer, George pulled away a bit to give you a questioning look.

“Sweetheart?” he tried. You laid a hand on his arm.

“You still haven’t eaten dinner, have you?” you asked. Neither had you, for that matter. “I’ll get us something that isn’t rubbery turkey.”

George blinked at you, confused, with a growing edge of worry.

“Isn’t Dean getting your meds? Why don’t you wait for him to—”

“I’m fine,” you said, already getting up to grab your purse. “I’ll be back.”

George called your name again, but the ringing in your ears was now pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

You made your way down the hall to the lobby at a brusque clip, even with your neck brace on. You didn’t see Dean, but he certainly saw you as he was walking back into the hospital. Frowning, he followed and called out to you.

You slowed when you saw him, and he soon caught up with you. He rested a hand on your back.

“Hey, where you goin’?" he asked.

“We haven’t eaten in a while. I’m going to the cafeteria,” you said. Though you seemed distracted, your eyes meeting his only briefly. It triggered a small spidey sense running up Dean’s spine.

He gave you your prescription pain medication, which you took with a small “thank you.”

“Everything okay?” he asked. “How’s George doing?”

“Fine. He’s resting,” you said. And by the look of you, that seemed to be true. But he spotted the tremble in your hands when you took the pill bottle package from him. It made him stop you when you tried to keep walking down to the cafeteria.

“Okay, you wanna run that by me again?” Dean asked.

You frowned, and your brows knit together. “What?”

“Is there something going on?” he pressed.

You sighed, but you didn’t answer him. You looked exhausted, and like you’d rather swallow your own tongue than speak. You shook your head and laid a hand on his wrist.

“I’m fine. Dean, thank you for everything you did tonight, but you still have to work tomorrow. Go home, get some rest,” you said.

You turned from him again. That was your first mistake. He reached out and grasped your hand to stop you.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he said.

“What?” you said in irritation. Your second mistake was not being able to look at him.

Dean was frowning in earnest now. Worry clawed in his gut, which was also telling him not to let you walk away from him. His grip shifted to hold both of your arms and move directly in front of you. He dipped his chin, trying to get you to meet his eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I need you to talk to me.”

You inhaled a shuddering breath. A wave was rising inside you, threatening to pull you into its undertow. Your eyes burned, red and shining. Dean finally saw it when you raised your head, what little you could. Your mouth began to quiver, looking into his eyes. And it was done.

You could no longer be still.

Dean held you when you fell apart in the hallway.

Dean called out of work the next day to stay with you and George. Gordon would be acting Lieutenant until his next shift, and Dean was sure the man would take full enjoyment out of it.

He couldn’t care about that right now though. He felt that his place was here, being your quiet wall of support while you and George and the oncologist talked about treatment options.

“Normally, at the stage we’re in, I would be recommending chemotherapy,” said Dr. Benton.

“Normally?” you echoed.

“At the rate this is progressing, the treatment would have to be aggressive,” he said. His gaze focused on George. “However, at your age, and the current state of your overall health…at this point, I don’t think the rigors of treatment would be worth diminishing your quality of life.”

“What are you saying?” you asked. Your voice cut like a whip, earning the other men’s gazes.

George was the first one to lay a hand on your arm. “You know what it means, honey…he’s saying it ain’t worth it.”

“Of course, it’s worth it,” you retorted. With your brows furrowed and lips pursed, your eyes went from him to the doctor. “Just because he’s older, we shouldn’t even try? Is that what you’re saying, doctor?”

At that, even Dean drew closer to lay a hand on your back. Meanwhile, George squeezed your arm.

Benton shook his head gravely. “That’s certainly not what I’m saying.”

“How much time would I get, if I started treatment,” George asked, before you could volley further with the doctor.

Benton met the other man’s gaze.

“I’m going to be honest with you, George. You may get a few more weeks, or even a few months. But that is a best-case scenario.”

Dean drove you all home that day, after George decided to formally waive treatment. Both men knew you were angry in your silence, but neither one wanted to press you. Dean was too wary, and George was too tired.

Once he was settled in bed, you hadn’t even left his room yet before you grabbed a notepad off his desk and wandered into the hall. You started to make a list of things you still needed from the grocery store, among other things. Dean took that piece of paper out of your hands.

“Good. I’ll handle this,” he said. “Meanwhile, you can get upstairs, take a shower, take your meds, and get some sleep.” 

You frowned at him. “You haven’t slept either, Dean.”

“I’m used to it,” he said, giving you a wink and a slight smile. Overnight shifts could be a bitch at a firehouse, but Dean was no stranger to having his sleep interrupted.

“Listen to him, honey. He’s speaking sense,” George called from inside his room. The bedroom door was still open. He was settling into his bed while trying to stifle a cough. He sipped at a cup of water you’d brought for him.

Still, you looked reluctant. Dean held your arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Come on,” he said. “You were in an accident yesterday. You’ve had one hell of a night. You need your rest, or you’ll be no good to anyone.”

And if you pushed yourself much more, he worried that he’d have to take you right back to the hospital. Dean would rather not have that scare so close to the last one.

He brushed your cheek with gentle fingers. With the limited mobility your neck brace provided, you did your best to look up at him. Your eyes were softer.

“Okay,” you breathed.

“Okay? All right, good,” Dean said. You held onto his jacket for a moment, leaning against him.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You felt the burn of tears behind your closed eyelids. A few of them squeezed past and slipped down your cheeks. Dean held your face, brushing the tears away with his thumbs.

“Hey, I’m here, all right? Just let me help you,” he said. “You can lean on me when you need to.”

“I haven’t had that in a long time,” you admitted. “Part of me doesn’t know how to lean.”

“I get that,” Dean said. But you both knew that there was a long and difficult road ahead. He knew he didn’t have to remind you of it. “Whatever you need, you just tell me, okay? If nothing else, I’ve got a strong pair of shoulders.”

Somehow, you smiled. You pressed your forehead against his chest and inhaled deeply, to steady yourself.

“That you do, Lieutenant.”

You left for your room soon after, but not before you brought him down to you for one more tearful kiss.

Dean then watched you climb up the stairs to your room and nearly went up to help you, but he heard George call his name. Dean ventured back into George’s room and heeded his beckoning hand.

“You hungry? I can scramble some eggs or something before I hit the store. I think I saw two more left in the carton,” Dean said. George shook his head.

“Come ‘ere a sec.”

Dean took the hint and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I just wanna thank you for everything you did yesterday. Everything you’re still doing for us,” George said. He looked exhausted, but whatever he wanted to say was important enough to fight off sleep. He clasped a hand on Dean’s arm.

“You don’t have to,” Dean replied.

George huffed. A smile made his eyes gleam brighter.

“I knew you were a special one, Dean Winchester. Knew it the night I met ya, on your very first date with her.”

Dean blinked, but his pause drifted into a reserved smile.

“How’s that?” he asked.

“Well, I’ll be honest. When I heard that black Chevy rumble like hell’s wheels onto the driveway, I thought I might have to worry about you,” George chuckled.

Dean’s lips quirked.

“But no, it wasn’t that. It wasn’t the pretty flowers, or our mutual love of killer sharks,” George quipped, making Dean’s smile more genuine. “It isn’t your job either, or the fact that you saved her. I just believe that you can see a man’s mettle in his eyes…and I saw it in you when I shook your hand that night.”

Dean took that in for a moment. His hand flexed over his knee. Then he met George’s gaze, though he didn’t know what to say. Sometimes though, honestly was the best bet.

“I’m sorry for what you’re going through,” he said at last. “I can’t imagine…”

George let out a breath through his nose. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

He pointed to a picture frame on his bedside. It was of him and his wife, Sophie, when they were around your age and Dean’s. The couple were sitting on a pier that hung over the edge of the lake in their hometown.

She held him from behind, with her arms wrapped around his neck. Her long hair was being carried by the wind, getting swept into George’s eyes. He was smiling too hard to care.

“I’m ready to smile like that again,” he said. He had tears in his eyes, but he was already lighter at the thought. “I know it’s selfish…but I think I’ve missed her long enough.”

Dean paused. Then he cleared his throat past a small well of something he couldn’t name. He wondered if his dad ever had thoughts like that.

“Well, I’ll let you get your rest,” he said. “I’ll be back.”

George nodded and gave Dean’s arm a squeeze. “All right. Drive safe. Don’t hit any goddamn trees.”

He shot Dean a knowing wink, and it almost had the younger man laughing. George’s sense of humor was something else.

Dean then left George to rest. He made sure he had his wallet, keys, and your grocery list before he left your house and went back to the car. He checked his phone and saw a missed call…from Cas.

Dean was reminded again about Azazel, the kingpin who might’ve ordered a hit on his family. Along with the recent murders and arsons, and the connection from one of the victims to your company, Savage & Co.

Dean returned the call as he climbed into the Impala.

“Dean. Everything all right?” Cas asked. “Sam filled me in about the accident.”

“Yeah, everyone’s okay…well, not really. I’ll explain later,” Dean replied. “Listen, about what we talked about at the bar.”

“Yes.” Cas said gravely. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go to your father about this yet.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” Dean sighed. “My girl just got some real bad news. I know you gotta keep digging into Savage & Co., but can you keep her out of it?”

“Is she all right?”

“Yeah, more or less…it’s her grandfather.”

“Ah, I see,” Cas said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks, man. I’d rather her just focus on what she needs to do right now, you know?”

“I get it. And believe me, we’re keeping the investigation of Nick Savage quiet for now,” Cas said. “But if we find something, or worse, if I can’t…I’ll likely need to question her. She works directly with Savage, and from what I can tell, she’s instrumental in bringing in and maintaining several of his major accounts.”

Dean stopped at a red light and took a moment to rub a hand over his tired face, rubbing his eyes. “You don’t really think she’s got any idea of what that asshole’s into.”

“I’m not saying she does. But in working so closely with him, perhaps she’s noticed things about her boss, and the company. Things she’s kept to herself, out of self-preservation.”

Dean frowned. He didn’t want to think about shit like that. It made his stomach churn at the thought of you working for someone who might be doing business with a crime lord, let alone Azazel.

“Well, when that day comes, give me a heads up, okay?”

“Will do.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

Dean offered to take another day off to help you, but you wouldn’t let him. He needed to go back to work, and you were able to arrange working from home for the next few weeks.

Even Nick couldn’t refuse to accommodate you in a situation like this. He knew very well that if he pushed you too hard, you’d go directly to HR.

So he backed off, and told you to take as much time at home as you needed. It allowed you to put him, and that afternoon in his office, away from your mind to focus on taking care of your grandfather.

Though you called your best friend the day you got home from the hospital, Andréa didn’t come by your house to see you and George until the end of the week. She cited mounting projects at work and some kind of tiff with her cousin Meg, but it all sounded like excuses to you.

However, she was gracious enough to bring dinner for the three of you on a Friday night. She cut up with George like normal, and even got him laughing, until a coughing fit forced him to stop. It also took most of the joy out of the rest of the evening.

While George went up to his room to rest, Andréa later joined you in the kitchen. You were washing the dishes, trying to focus on what you were doing. But your mind was buzzing continuously with future tasks and worries. Always, tasks and worries.

“How are you holding up?” Andréa asked. She rubbed your back, and you gave her a slight smile.

“All I can do is make him comfortable, for as long as possible,” you replied. There were tears in your friend’s eyes, but she dabbed them away with the back of her hand.

“What do you need? Anything, you just tell me,” she said.

It was a little easier for you to contemplate leaning on Andréa. You had been friends with her for years, and she was like another daughter to George.

On the other hand, asking Dean for help always made you hesitate. What you two had was still so new. You worried that this was too much for your relationship, too fast. 

“Well,” you sighed as you wiped your hands dry on a kitchen towel. You didn’t exactly want to talk about it, but there were things you had to start planning, even if you didn’t know the exact timeframe.

However, as soon as you opened your mouth to reply, Andréa’s cell phone rang. She held up a finger to you and checked it. To your surprise, she actually answered it.

��Hey, babe,” she replied with a smile. You heard Benny’s deep voice on the line, asking a question. “Yeah, I’m still here. I’m probably leaving soon though.”

She continued her conversation for a few more minutes, but you didn’t hear anything after that. A tension headache was sharp behind your eyes, while anger (yes, anger) rolled hot under your skin. Your lips pursed. You busied yourself with straightening up the kitchen until she continued her call for another few minutes.

“Sorry about that,” she said, finally turning her attention back to you. “So what do you need?”

You put away the last dry dish and turned to her coolly.

“Nothing.”

Andréa frowned. She knew there was something off with you, but her furrowed brows betrayed her confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” you repeated. “Don’t you need to head out, anyway?”

“No, I was just…what’s up with you?” she asked.

“What’s up with me is my grandfather’s dying!” you snapped. You left her in the kitchen, precisely so that she’d follow you out. You grabbed her purse for her and went to the front door, where you stepped out.

Andréa was dismayed and confused as she followed you out onto the porch. She raised her brows at you when you shut the door and crossed your arms at her.

“I know you, and this isn’t just about that. What’s the problem?” she asked.

“You can’t seem to detach from your boyfriend for more than five minutes to just be my friend. That’s the problem,” you replied. “But why should I be surprised? Like always, you’re too wrapped up in yourself to consider anyone else.”

Her brows knitted together; she looked hurt by your words, but also defensive.

“How can you say that when you’ve been exactly the same way?” she accused. “Since you met Dean, I’d be lucky to see you once a week—”

“I call you every week,” you began, counting the list with your fingers. “You’re always busy, but you never give me a day that works for you. And when we do make plans, you usually cancel. Why? Because you’re going sailing with Benny. You’re going to a restaurant, hours away, just to try the new sushi bar beer garden, or whatever the hell. Or you’re going on an impromptu road trip, or you’re planning a summer trip to Greece. Give me fucking break, Dre.”

By now she was frowning angrily, her arms crossed. “You’re mad at me because I have a life?”

“No. I’m happy for you that you found someone. I really am,” you said. “But we clearly live in two different versions of reality. I just don’t have the time or the energy to entertain yours.”

You knew you were being too harsh. You felt incredible guilt as soon as it all left your mouth…but part of you also felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. The problem was, you still felt heavy. Just in a different way.

Both of you were crying when Andréa left your house.

All too soon, a week became a month. In that time, Dean called you every day to check on you. He spent most of his evenings with you and George when he wasn’t on shift. And when he was, sometimes Meg would drop in.

She understood your argument with Andréa, and she respected you for taking a stand when you needed to. She even confided you that she’d had similar frustrations with her cousin lately.

But Meg wasn’t your only visitor. Ellen had come a few times to bring you lunch and dinner, even breakfast, though you hadn’t asked her to. You realized then how close Dean must be to his friends at the firehouse, along with the Harvelles; Ellen also refused to take any money from you for the food.

By the end of the month, George mainly spent his days sleeping. Pain medication made his days nearly painless, but not without struggle. You were doing your best to care for him while continuing to work full-time from home. You were also exhausted, though you refused to admit it.

Today was a better day, however, because George was awake. He was also more aware of his surroundings than usual.

He stopped you from adjusting his pillow so you would sit down on the edge of his bed. He took your hand in his, brushing a thumb over the back of it.

“I’m okay with this, you know,” he said. You pursed your lips, but he stopped you from whatever you were going to say. “I don’t want to leave you. You know that…but I’m so damn proud of you. Your Gram was, and still is…”

Your lower lip wobbled as you tried and failed to keep your tears at bay. They stung in your eyes and slipped past your defenses, down your face.

“The house is yours. But if that’s too hard for you, just sell it,” he said, heaving a deep breath. “It’s just the bones. You’re the heart. And you always have been.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but not a sound would come out. You held his hand with both of yours and stared down at them. Until his voice once again commanded your attention.

“I always thought…moving to the city ruined my daughter. That we should’ve stayed in Lebanon. That maybe I gave her too much freedom, and I failed her somehow along the way,” George said. His eyes were heavy with old heartache. And yet, they soon began to lighten.

“But the day we lost a daughter, we gained one too,” he said. Then, he chuckled a little. “And I know I never failed with you, sweetheart.”

That proved to be too much for you. He pulled you into his arms like you were still a child, and he held you for a long time while you cried yourself out.

Though he eventually spotted Dean hesitating in the doorway. He’d probably let himself in with the spare key you’d given him.

George raised a hand from your back and silently beckoned Dean inside his room. He was getting tired, drifting off thanks to the morphine.

“Hey, lookie there. The boyfriend’s here,” George whispered with a bit of cheek. You sucked in a breath and raised your head, wiping at your eyes before you turned around. Dean met you with an attempt at a smile and a gentle hand on your back.

“Just got out of work?” you asked. He’d been on a 24-hour shift, and you’d missed him. You stood and stepped into his welcoming embrace. He dropped a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah. I’ve got the next couple of days off,” Dean said. He greeted George next and asked him if he needed anything.

“Just some water,” the older man replied.

“I’ll get it,” you said with a sniff. “Need to start dinner too.”

“I already brought some food. You like Italian, right?” Dean said, with a subtle smile. It earned your sigh and a grateful smile. He knew very well that it was now one of your favorites. Italian meatballs always reminded you both of your first date.

“Thank you,” you said, grasping his hand. He squeezed yours with a nod, before he let you go.

When you were out of earshot, George cleared his throat past a wet cough. Dean reached over and grabbed him a tissue. George took it with a nod. Again, he encouraged Dean to come closer.

“I’m not worried,” George said, between deep breaths. “You know why?”

Dean just stared back for a moment. He genuinely had no idea what the man might say next.

“Tell me,” he said.

“My granddaughter’s strong. Always has been, because she had to be,” said George. “But you’re gonna be there when she’s not.”

Dean considered the weight of that charge. The anxiety in his chest felt familiar; like the day he got his badge at the Fire Academy, knowing then the responsibility he held in his hands.

That’s a lot to put on just three months of knowing this girl, came a more selfish thought. It sounded a lot like the guy he used to be, not too long before he met you.

But when Dean thought about you, and what you’d begun to mean to him…

He realized that he only had one answer.

“Yes, sir. I am,” said Dean.

George gave a tired smile. “Good man.”

And that night, an agreement was made. 

In the morning, your grandfather was gone.

Dean held you through what he thought was the worst of your heartbreak. But after that dour morning, it was like a switch flipped inside you.

In the days after George’s death, your shutters came up. You threw yourself into checklists and task after task—in funeral arrangements and planning and contacting distant relatives and friends.

This was your failsafe. Your version of “autopilot.” And these things needed to get done, after all.

But Dean worried when he no longer saw the softer side of you. Like your heart had been wrung dry. 

He inevitably had to go back to work, but in between the demanding hours of his schedule, he tried to get you to slow down. He saw the warning signs of you running yourself into the ground. He just didn’t know how to help you land.

So Dean picked up slack where he saw it, often without you asking him to. He began fixing the house, one section at a time. He enlisted Benny’s help, since he actually had a small construction business. Dean even paid for the materials himself without you knowing.

And one sunny afternoon, he took a break from repaving part of the cracked and uneven driveway to grab a beer inside. You were sitting at the kitchen table with stacks of papers all around you, your cellphone on speaker as some kind of elevator music continued to ring on a loop.

“Can you believe I’ve been on hold with the funeral director for 20 minutes?” you told him in irritation. But you didn’t truly take sight of him until he came back from the kitchen.

He wore a familiar ensemble of jeans and black undershirt with a plaid shirt, rolled up to his elbows. He was covered in a fine layer of sweat, and his hands were dusty and stained from his work on the driveway. Dean looked tired, and that made you feel guilty.

Meanwhile, he frowned and popped open a beer. “You want one of these? Looks like you could use one.”

You shook your head. With a sigh, you hung up the phone. You’d try calling again later. Instead, you focused on the next item of your checklist for today.

“Food. Because we’re gonna need to eat after the service,” you inclined your head. “Okay, still need to come up with a list of caterers, because I don’t think I can cook for that many people.”

Dean nodded at that. “Let me talk to Ellen. She’ll give you a good price, and her food is good.”

You looked up from your notepad and considered him thoughtfully. You wouldn’t have thought to cater from a bar, but he was right. Ellen had great food at the Roadhouse.

“Okay, I’ll call her,” you said.

“No, I’ll call her,” Dean insisted. He set down the beer on the table and leaned his palms flat on its surface. “Sweetheart, I told you I’d help you with all this. You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

“Dean, you’ve done enough,” you replied. Your brows drew together stubbornly. “You’re paving my driveway right now, for God’s sake! This is my responsibility, not yours.”

Dean frowned, making you sigh. You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms.

“Look, we’ve only been dating for three months,” you said. And in your mind, a good chunk of that time had been spent in the worst hell of your life. “This right here? It’s a lot. I’m not expecting you to deal with all this…”

You bit your lip, and your gaze fell away from his as your insecurities took hold. The thoughts that had been plaguing you every night since this all began, on the night of the car accident.

“And…if you’d rather take a break from us for a while, I’d understand,” you said.

Your voice was more collected than you felt. But that didn’t make it any easier when Dean stared back at you, mostly incredulous. You even thought you saw a thread of hurt there, and it made your heartache worsen.

Dean came around to your side of the table. He dragged a chair back and sunk into it, facing you directly.

“You think that’s the kind of guy I am?” he asked.

You immediately shook your head. You weren’t trying to upset him, or imply that he wasn’t reliable, or trustworthy, or whatever was running through his head. You were just trying to be realistic.

You’re so pragmatic it hurts, as Andréa had often told you.

“Dean, it’s not that…” you began, a bit helplessly. “I just—”

“Just, nothin’.” His chair scraped toward you as he reached out for your hand. He made sure you looked him in the eyes when he said this next part. 

“I’m not leaving you with this.”

Your gaze met his, though you desperately tried to keep your heart from rising into your throat. 

“I’m not leaving you,” Dean said. His tone, his eyes, his hold on your hand was firm.

For a moment, you stared at him, unblinking, even as tears swam in your eyes. 

He’s not leaving you. 

Not like everyone else in your life.

You were grateful. Too grateful, even, for words.

When you finally broke down into tears, Dean realized what an idiot he’d been. Your wall of stoicism had been just that—a flimsy wall. Now it was shattered, and so were you.

It scared him just how much, as he gathered you onto his lap and into his arms. You didn’t seem to care that he was dirty and covered with sweat. You clung to him strong, and he held you back just as tightly.

“No matter what I did, it wasn’t enough,” you confessed. “You save people all the time. I couldn’t save anyone in my life.”

Dean frowned. He cupped the back of your head, and he felt your tears sliding down his neck. His voice was thick with emotion when he was able to reply.

“Oh, baby. It’s not your fault.”

“I can’t…I can’t do anything. Anything that matters.” Your voice was a broken whisper. It damn near broke his heart. 

“Now you know that’s not true,” he said. “I’m not gonna let you lie to yourself like that.”

You trembled and heaved with sobs, and he continued to hold you.

Just be there, Sam had told him, when Dean had called him from the hospital. Sam reminded him again last week, when George finally passed.

Is that all I’m supposed to do? Dean thought. His brows furrowed, but he tried to hide his frustration.

He was used to people depending on him. He led a team. Before then, he’d looked out for Sam all his life. Dean had never had to help someone get through this kind of grief though. He just wanted to help you, in whatever way he could.

Because he was worrying, just like you. That whatever he did, it wouldn’t be enough.

But he couldn’t leave you. 

I can’t, and I won’t, he thought. So he took a breath, and he said the first true thing that came to mind.

“You’re the strongest woman I know, you know that?” Dean said. He spoke low and steady, but with the conviction he felt. “And that’s a tall order, considering some of the badass ladies I’ve got in my life.”

A smile tugged at his lips when he considered people like Ellen and Jo, Jody and Donna. He might’ve lost his mom, but he and Sam hadn’t lacked when it came to influential women in their lives.

“But I saw it the day we met. I see it every time we’re together,” he continued. “You work hard as hell. You take care of everyone around you…”

You were still quiet, trying to stifle your crying.

Dean let out a breath. “Man, if you only knew how much you’ve been helping me. Keeping my damn feet on the ground with this whole…arsonist mess my dad’s been investigating. Digging up the past, my mom, the whole damn thing.”

With a sniffle, you uncurled from him, just enough to reveal your face. Your grip on his shirt loosened, your palm flattening on his chest. He held your hand there and turned his lips to your forehead. He sensed that you were calming down. That you were listening.

“That matters to me,” he told you.

You nodded and tightened your hand on his. “Me too.”

Your voice was still shaky, but it sounded a little stronger.

“See? You might as well face it.” Dean grinned. “You’re a badass chick with a big heart.”

You snorted in response. Your lips even twitched at a smile. He spied it when he looked down at you. And you rested easier against him as your tears subsided.

“Thank you,” you whispered. He dried your cheek with a brush of his hand. 

“For what?” he asked.

“For staying.”

AN: So first off, I'm sorry for the gritty "reality" of this one. It's just where the story took me, though it serves a purpose narratively and for both the reader and Dean's character development.

But also, I think this has just been on my mind, since both my grandmother and great uncle (brother and sister) died within a year of one another due to different forms of cancer. My great uncle passed in May of this year, and my grandmother two years this past October.

Again, I'm sorry if this one was too heavy, but art does imitate life and this was probably my brain trying to express those emotions I couldn't fully make sense of at the time. George will be missed, but will still be felt in the rest of this story, as I'm sure any of you who've lost close family members will understand. 💙

Next Time:

The identity of Azazel will finally be revealed in Part 12. But first...

You nodded. “By the way, it was nice of Sam and Eileen to come. And Meg and Cas.” 

Dean smiled.

“They can be your people too,” he said. “If you want ‘em to be.”

You couldn’t help it. Your tears brewed and bubbled over. And you moved slowly across the couch to twine your arms around his neck. Dean’s lips tugged at a smile, and he welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

Both of you were still wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing all day; you in your black dress and Dean in his slacks and white buttoned-down shirt, though by now without the jacket, and the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You were infinitely exhausted. But one thing had become clear to you over the past few weeks.

“Thank you. Thank you for today, and for every day since we met,” you said shakily.

Keep Reading: PART 12

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[uncannydevotion]

Can you do toby, hoodie, and masky being instructed to kill their s/o by slender? Would they actually go through with it?

a/n: picture me rubbing my hands together evilly upon reading this request okay. this is so so so short but i felt like it would drag on if i made it any longer im sorry </3 but i hope you enjoy it!! thanks for the request, i love angst <3

warnings: major character death in tobys part!! murder, attempted murder, blood, descriptive death, memory loss, overall everyone has a bad time, but hoodie is like... vibing. also not proofread im incapable of rereading things i write.

MASKY

It's certainly not an order he intends on following, but he's well aware that he's susceptible to Slender's influence, so he's not quiet sure how to avoid it.

The only one of the three to actually try and negotiate with Slender. You weren't a threat to anyone, let alone it. He didn't understand why the being was hellbent on getting him to kill you, especially since it knew that he loved you.

And that's just the reason.

He loved you, so you were a distraction. You were a weakness, and Slender doesn't take well to its proxies having weaknesses.

But it was a reasonable being. For Masky, at least. The man was logical, so they saw eye to eye a fair amount of times. He had yet to go against any of his other orders, so Slender was willing to negotiate.

Its terms? Masky would have to cut all contact with you and your memory of him would have to be taken so to ensure you wouldn't try finding him. And in exchange, you would get to keep your life.

Now, obviously, he didn't want that. Masky loved you, so why would he ever want to part ways with you? Almost as if to show him what would happen if he didn't accept its terms, Slender caused the man to black out, and when he came to...

He was in your bedroom, standing over your bed as you slept, a gun pointing at you. His finger was on the trigger, and he quickly dropped the gun before anything could happen.

The thought of you dying, the reality of living in a world without you in it, was enough to make him agree to Slender's terms. Masky disappeared from your life, and your memory of him went with.

Though he remembered you. A sick form of punishment, perhaps, for falling in love. He remembered everything about you.

HOODIE

Hoodie is, out of the three, the one most likely here to blatantly disobey Slender without fear of consequence. Though Slender is technically his boss, he's not the type to blindly follow orders unless they make sense to him.

No amount of punishment has been able to break him, but he's too valuable of a proxy for Slender to rid of him.

When the order first comes to his mind, he almost laughs from the sheer absurdity of it.

He does not care what reason the entity might have for wanting you dead. Hoodie loved you, so he would not kill you. And should Slender try getting one of the other proxies to try and kill you, Hoodie is not against harming them.

His loyalties lie with you, first and foremost.

You are one of the very few things in his life that brings him joy, there's just literally no way in hell he'll let anything take that away from him. Not even his evil eldritch boss can force him away from you.

And unlike Masky, he won't distance himself from you. He's... pretty selfish, to be honest. His very presence puts you in harms way, and you might have people actively trying to murder you from now on but don't worry!!

He'll keep you safe, trust him.

TICCI TOBY

The only one here who will actually kill you. He doesn't want to, believe me. Toby will actively go out of his way to try and defy Slender like Hoodie, even, but he is the entity's most loyal proxy, so it's a short battle.

Toby's loyalty to the faceless being runs deeper than anything else, even his love for you. If Slender wants him to kill someone, then he will.

But he doesn't kill you willingly, if that makes you feel any better. Toby ignores the order for as long as he can, until Slender runs out of patience. And when it does, it will hound Toby with endless static and agonizing pain, punishment for disobeying its orders.

It will break Toby down, and once it's sure that Toby can't disobey it again, Slender will demand he kill you. And this time, in a mindless haze, Toby does it.

Maybe he thinks he's killing someone else, your screams and cries falling upon deaf ears as he slams his hatchets into you over and over again under you could no longer be recognized, your blood staining his clothes and skin.

Toby won't remember you. You were a weakness that had to be purged, so Slender ensured that every memory he had of you was repressed. But even so, there's this aching feeling in his chest. As if he was missing something important, something he can't quite place.

He mourns you, and yet he can't even remember you. He just feels... anguish, for some reason.

[kudouusagi]

Pash Utsumi Hiroko Interview

It's sure to be a heartwarming, Fan & Fun experience!

It's about the moments you weren't able to see in the main series.

--Looking back at the scenario meetings, is there anything that stands out in your memory?

Like the fact that there was a longer version where (series writer) Ookouchi Ichirou, the producers, and I all came up with ideas for what to do in the OVA and decided on it, only to realize it didn't fit into the time limit plan I came up with myself and so it was rejected (laughs). Of course Reki and Langa are the main characters so they're going to appear in the OVA but we really wanted to include them all... and that would be difficult to do in one story so we made it into an omnibus format.

--What do you want people to pay attention to in this OVA?

I'd like it if you could check which scenes were shown in the PV. For example, Reki and the others play karuta, but what kind of karuta is it? Who's playing against who? Will Langa, who is bad at reading and writing, be okay?! In the part with Sakurayashiki and Nanjo set in the past, what was their high school life like? What were their fights like back then? How developed are Nanjo's muscles?! Also, the unknown life of Kikuchi, which was kept top-secret in the main story, is revealed...!?! And more!

--Please tell us about what you remember when looking back on recording the voices for this OVA.

I was happy to see that Hatanaka Tasuku-san, who plays Reki, and Kobayashi Chiaki-san, who plays Langa, were still the same Reki and Langa even though several years had passed. I didn't feel any time had past... ∞(eternal) Friendship! It was also memorable how Koyasu Takehito-san, who plays Ainosuke, struggled with a certain scene. Look forward to finding out which scene it was! It had been a while since I last did the voice recording for SK8, and it brought back memories for me, making me feel like SK8 was back!

--What exactly is the theme for this OVA...?

Since it is an omnibus format, there is no overall theme, but they're each filling a gap that wasn't able to be seen in the main story.

--In order to get to know the characters more deeply before the OVA is released, are there any behind-the-scenes details that you haven't revealed yet (that you couldn't show in the first season of the TV series)?

The different headband Reki is wearing in the OVA PV is a souvenir present from his sister Koyomi. It's shaped like an akabeko with a tiger pattern... it's quite unique. Reki only wears it at home. Langa doesn't care about clothes, so he'll wear anything that's comfortable to move in, so he's wearing something strange this time. Please check out the OVA to find out the details☆

--For those who are rewatching the first season of the TV series, what are some of the points you would like people to pay special attention to?

Don't miss anything! The relationship between MIYA and Reki, the outcome of Hiromi's fleeting love, the current fight scenes between Sakurayashiki and Nanjo, the vibe of the master and dog relationship between Ainosuke and Kikuchi, etc. The bond between Reki and Langa through the whole series and how it develops into friendship, keeps your eyes peeled on it till the very end!! And since the theme song for this OVA was created with the TV series in mind, so I'm certain it will improve your understanding if you watch the whole series and think of it while listening to it☆

--Finally, please give a message to the fans of "SK8". 

We're sorry to have kept you waiting for so long, but thanks to everyone who has been waiting that the day we can finally deliver it to you is fast approaching...! There's only a few more sleeps till the OVA is here ♬ How about going to the cinema to watch "SK8 EXTRAPART" as the finale to your New Year's celebrations? It's sure to be a heartwarming, Fan & Fun experience! Please look forward to its release☆

[magical-reid]

Tying Hearts Into Knots

Pairing: 40s!Bucky x Nurse!Reader

Word Count: 700

Prompt: 29: "“I can braid your hair for you—I mean, only if you want,”

Summary: Bucky Barnes, the confident and charming sergeant, is thrown off balance by the cool and composed nurse tending to him, making him stumble over his words in a way no one has ever seen. As their unlikely friendship grows, the tough soldier finds himself nervous and flustered around her, while she begins to see a side of him that’s more than just swagger and charm.

The low hum of the hospital ward was punctuated by the occasional scrape of a chair leg or the soft murmur of a nurse giving instructions. You were busy checking bandages when you first noticed him—Bucky Barnes, the charming sergeant everyone seemed to swoon over. He had a grin that could disarm even the most stoic of nurses and an air of confidence that could walk right into any room and make it his.

Except, apparently, when it came to you.

You’d caught him staring once or twice, his expression a strange mix of curiosity and… was that nervousness? Hard to tell with a man like Bucky, who usually exuded confidence like it was as easy as breathing. But right now, he sat stiffly at the edge of the cot, his usual smirk absent. His hands fidgeted in his lap, fingers curling and uncurling.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you greeted, pulling his chart off the clipboard. You didn’t look at him right away, too preoccupied with reading the notes. But when you glanced up, his blue eyes were already on you, wide like he’d just been caught red-handed.

“Uh, hey.” He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “You can call me Bucky.”

You smirked at that, writing something down on his chart. “I’ll stick with Sergeant Barnes for now. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he mumbled. Then, after a beat: “Thanks to you.”

That was new. The great Bucky Barnes, nervous and stumbling over his words? You raised an eyebrow at him, unsure if he was pulling your leg. But the way his knee started bouncing, you decided he was serious.

“Well,” you said, moving to check his bandaged arm, “you’ve got a long road ahead, but it’s nothing you can’t handle, right?” You gave him a pointed look, one you often used on stubborn patients.

“Right,” he said, his voice a little too high.

You chuckled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. It was a hot day, and the humidity in the ward wasn’t helping. Your hair kept falling loose from its pins, and you huffed in frustration as you tucked it back again.

Bucky shifted on the cot. “I can braid your hair for you—I mean, only if you want,” he blurted.

You froze, mid-motion, staring at him. His face went red as a beet.

“I—uh—used to do it for my sister,” he stammered, his words tripping over each other. “It’s—it’s not weird or anything, I just—” He cut himself off, looking like he wanted to sink into the floor.

You bit back a smile, deciding to take pity on him. “You braid hair, Sergeant Barnes?”

His laugh was awkward, his eyes darting around like he was searching for an escape. “Yeah, uh, like I said… for my sister. But I’m sure I could, y’know, do a good job if you needed help or something.”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “I might take you up on that.”

Bucky looked like he wasn’t sure if you were joking or not, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. “O-okay.”

Leaning closer, you dropped your voice. “You know, I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you nervous, Sergeant.”

“I’m not nervous,” he said too quickly, his shoulders straightening.

“Really? Your face is redder than Private O’Malley’s sunburn,” you teased.

He opened his mouth, then shut it, and you couldn’t hold back your laughter. For a man who could charm his way out of anything, he was absolutely flustered.

“I’ll tell you what,” you said, your voice softening. “If I ever need a hairdresser, you’ll be the first person I call.”

Bucky’s lips quirked into a smile, some of his usual swagger creeping back in. “Careful, doll. I might hold you to that.”

You shook your head, stepping back. “Rest up, Sergeant.”

As you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you, and when you glanced back, sure enough, there he was—grinning like an idiot.

You couldn’t help but grin back.

[tipsynight0]

For the life we never knew

Parings- Jeff the killer x female reader

Word count - 975

TRIGGER WARNING - Miscarriage, blood, grief, child loss, trauma.

Summary - a quiet night takes a devastating turn.

Authors note - As you can probably tell, I’m not your typical Creepypasta fanfiction writer. My stories lean more toward real-life experiences—raw, messy, and unfiltered. Writing has always been more for me than anything else, a way to process what I can’t always say out loud. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism, maybe it’s just a need to put pain into words.

I know I haven’t updated in a while, and for that, I’m sorry. Life has a way of pulling us under when we least expect it. But for those of you still here, reading and supporting, thank you. It means more than I can express.

I guess I’ve always found comfort in heartbreak—in taking a story and twisting it until it feels real enough to leave a mark. So, as you read this, don’t be afraid to cry, to feel. That’s what it’s meant for. And maybe, when you’re done, we’ll both feel just a little less alone.

Hopefully, I’ll have more for you soon. Until then, take care of yourselves—and try not to cry too much.

Becoming a dad was never on the radar for Jeff. Not for someone like him—a serial killer with bloodstained hands and years of unresolved trauma. Jeff wasn’t the kind of man who would teach his kid how to throw a ball or give them advice on their first crush. Hell, he barely had any idea how to take care of himself. But when Y/N came to him that day, clutching the pregnancy test in trembling hands, terror written all over her face—not the kind of fear he was used to, the kind he relished in—it was different. This fear was raw, uncertain, vulnerable. And for the first time, Jeff felt it too.

The conversation that followed wasn’t pretty. There was shouting, tears, accusations, and a silence so heavy it crushed them both. But somewhere in that mess of emotions, there was a spark—something small and fragile. A seed of hope Jeff never thought he’d feel.

As the days turned into weeks, that seed began to grow. The thought of a child, their child, burrowed its way into Jeff’s cold, damaged heart. He found himself imagining things he never thought possible: a tiny hand gripping his finger, a toothless smile, a giggle that echoed in the halls of the mansion. He didn’t just start to accept it; he started to want it.

The house was alive with a strange excitement. Even the others couldn’t help but marvel at the idea of another child joining them—another innocent soul like Sally. Jack stole prenatal vitamins and a doppler, and Jeff had spent hours with Y/N listening to the faint sound of their baby’s heartbeat. He painted the nursery himself, his hands steady in a way they’d never been before. For once, the chaos of their lives didn’t seem so suffocating.

And then came the night that shattered it all.

Jeff barely stirred when Y/N slipped out of bed. She’d been getting up a lot lately, her small trips to the bathroom almost routine. He was half-asleep when he heard her call out, her voice trembling with something he couldn’t quite place.

“Jeff... come here... something’s wrong.”

The fear in her voice jolted him awake. He stumbled out of bed, heart pounding as he rushed to the bathroom. The sight that met him stopped him cold.

Y/N was sitting on the floor, her hands trembling and slick with blood. It was everywhere—on her thighs, pooling on the tiles, staining her nightshirt. Jeff’s breath hitched, his stomach turning in a way he hadn’t felt since the first time he took a life. Blood was supposed to excite him, but this... this made him want to vomit.

“I’ll... I’ll be back,” he stammered, his voice cracking in a way that felt foreign and wrong. “I’ll get Jack. Don’t move, Y/N. Don’t move.”

He didn’t wait for her reply, didn’t dare look back. He sprinted down the stairs, nearly tripping in his panic. He found Jack in the kitchen, dragging him by the arm before the other man could even ask what was happening. His words tumbled out, frantic and disjointed, but Jack didn’t need an explanation when he saw the scene for himself.

Jack knelt beside Y/N, his usually steady hands trembling ever so slightly as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Stand up,” he said softly. “I need to see.”

Y/N obeyed, her body shaking as she clung to Jack for support. Jeff stayed rooted to the doorway, his nails digging into the wood as if it could somehow anchor him to reality.

Jack’s expression was grim as he straightened, his voice heavy when he finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

The words hit Jeff like a physical blow. Y/N let out a strangled sob, her knees buckling as Jack caught her and eased her to the floor. Jeff moved without thinking, dropping to his knees beside her and grabbing her hand.

“No,” Jeff muttered, shaking his head. “No, no, no. This—this isn’t happening. Fix it, Jack. Do something.”

Jack looked at him, his hollow eyes filled with something that almost resembled pity. “There’s nothing I can do, Jeff. It’s already happening.”

Y/N’s grip on Jeff’s hand tightened, her face pale and glistening with tears. “Jeff... it’s my fault,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“Don’t,” he said sharply, his voice cracking. “Don’t you dare say that. This isn’t your fault.”

She sobbed harder, her free hand clutching her stomach as another wave of pain wracked her body. Jeff could only watch, helpless and furious, as the person he cared about most suffered in a way he couldn’t stop.

Time seemed to crawl, every second dragging like a knife through Jeff’s chest. He wasn’t supposed to care like this. He wasn’t supposed to feel this kind of pain. But as Y/N finally passed the tiny, lifeless form of what could have been their child, Jeff felt something inside him shatter.

He stared at the tiny, fragile thing Jack gently took away, his chest heaving as he fought to keep the scream building inside him at bay. Y/N was limp against him now, her strength spent, her sobs quieted into hollow, hitching breaths.

Jeff pressed his forehead to hers, his hand still gripping hers tightly as though letting go would mean losing her too. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

In that moment, he hated himself more than he ever thought possible. He wasn’t supposed to care, wasn’t supposed to feel this. But as he held Y/N and felt the life drain from the future they’d dared to hope for, Jeff realized that maybe, just maybe, he’d wanted to be a dad after all.

And now, he never would be.

[serinaviolet]

Warm Heartbeat

Pairing: Zayne x Fem!Reader

Summary: Based on Zayne’s level 125 audio: “Warm Heartbeat” with a few elements of his "Silent Poem" audio because why not! At your surprise visit to Akso Hospital, you find out that your dear boyfriend Zayne is struggling with Evol backlash. Can you help your beloved before the power consumes him? And how will you help him warm up after?

Wordcount: 3.8k

A/N: This post is mostly dedicated to @aeyumicore and @tahbhie . Thank you both for inspiring me to write and post fanfictions again after such a long time <3

Warnings: mdni!, 18+, smut, slight angst, Fem!Reader, PinV, fingering, oral – fem! receiving, office sex, creampie, no protection (wrap it before you tap it), mention of scars, not proof read, english is not my first language (Let me know if I missed something)

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It was a normal evening in Linkon City. The day passed without much trouble while on patrol out with Xavier, no Wanderers or anything else out of the ordinary. Today was gonna be a calm and eventless day..or so you thought.

You knew that your boyfriend Zayne had one more surgery to perform this evening before the end of his shift, that’s why you decided to wait in his office so you two can enjoy the ride home together. You greeted Yvonne at the front desk of Akso hospital, a nurse which already knew you from your frequent visits, and headed straight to Zayne’s office. You find your way through the sterile hospital hallway by heart and instantly fell onto the cozy gray couch upon arriving in his workspace. It only took about 15 minutes before Zayne entered his office with quick steps, much more rushed than usual. As soon as he saw you, a panicked look flashed across his face, which morphed quickly into his stoic mask again.

“what are you doing here?��. His cold and somewhat breathless voice made you furrow your brows with concern. “Is everything ok? I came to pick you up, so we can go home together”. You rise from your seat and walk a bit closer to his slender, panting form by the door. “Don’t worry I’m fine. The surgery ended a few minutes ago, so I’m a little tired”. A pained little groan leaves his lips as his his eyebrows scrunch together. Now you’re really worried. Your hand reaches out to his shaky ones. “Zayne, are you…”. “If there’s nothing else…” he interrupts you, pressing the words through his thin lips hurriedly “...you should go home first Y/N”. He takes a few deep breathes, as if trying to hide the obvious pain he is in. ‘Something can’t be right’.

You slowly approach him while looking for any kind of injury on his perfectly sculptured body. “Why are you standing so close?” He hold his breath as you scan his face. His hazel green eyes looking back at you with a slight tremor while your brows furrow even more, tho you see nothing out of the ordinary. As you slowly place your hand on his cheek, the breath he was holding, finally escapes his lips. “Are you looking for something? I’m not hiding any candy from you” He teases and leans down. A small shiver runs along your spine as his whispered words hit your ear. A few small faltering breathes escape him while your hand moves down to his sensitive neck. His adams apple bopping slowly as your fingertips trace along his pale skin. “You are acting so weird today Zayne. I’m not looking for…” your eyes widen just as you see a thin layer of frost, creeping up on the side of his neck under his black high collar. Your eyes shoot up to his, only to see his gaze falling guiltily to the side whilst another pained moan escapes his throat. “You caught me”. You look up at him in utter disbelief as tears fill your vision and fear laces in your voice. “Zayne… Honey, why didn’t you say anything! Your neck is completely frozen!” Your scared eyes meet his agony filled ones. If it’s the pain from the ice swimming in them or seeing your trembling form caused by his distress, you can’t tell. “I knew you’d be worried”. He sighs as his still averted gaze fills with sadness. “You appear to be in more pain than I am”. His voice wavers while he takes a deep and much needed breath. “It’s just how it is with Evol backlash. It’s not as serious as you think it is. The ice will melt on it’s own”.

Your fingertips lightly graze over the in snowflakes covered skin, his thumb brushing away any stray tears, that you didn’t even notice escape your watering eyes. “Are you still concerned?”. You nod slowly, not daring to speak, as you feel like a frog got stuck in your throat. “Come here…”. He slowly takes off his white doctors coat and opens the first few buttons of his dark shirt, before carefully guiding your smaller hand to his frost covered collarbones. Now without the fabric in the way, you can clearly see how the ice has spread from his right shoulder, all the way up till shortly under his right ear. The snow slowly melting into small drops under your warm fingertips, rolling down over the smooth apex of his chest before disappearing into the soft cotton of his shirt. “It’s only a little bit of frost. It will be gone soon. I just have to bear with it”. You know that this is not the first time this happened, and you know that he is trying to convince you that he’s fine. But his staggered breath and trembling lips say otherwise. “Let’s sit down on the sofa”. You quickly nod and guide him to the cozy cushions. “You know you can rely on me Zayne! I can help you, so please tell me what I can do to make you feel better.” As you sit down next to him, his head falls back against the smooth wall behind him. A few shaky breathes escape his parted lips as his eyes flutter close, his long, black lashes kissing his cheeks.

“I don’t need you to do anything Y/N…”. His shaking hand interlacing with yours. “Just stay here with me”. Your thumb caressing over his white knuckles, while your worried eyes are still glued to the snow covered marble like structure of his neck. He feels your gaze on him and your fear rolling off of you and hitting him like waves, swallowing him deeper in this tense ocean of ice and missing control. “You can talk to me like you always do. It will divert my attention elsewhere”. You tell him about your day and how boring today's patrol was. His eyes remain closed, as if to completely focus all his senses on you and the sound of your voice, whilst the ice starts to move and spreads towards his chest. “T-the ice! It’s getting to your heart!” Panic replaces the calmness that filled your voice before, worriedly grabbing Zayne’s hand. “You’re mistaken”. He groans in pain, the air leaving his lungs getting shorter by the minute. “It hasn’t gotten worse. I know the ins and outs of my condition”. “But we have to-….” “We don’t need to do anything”. He interrupts you, trying to steady his breath with the fresh pain mixing in. Stubborn and stupidly in love as you are, you lay your palm on the now blue shimmering skin of his chest. Your fingers are submerged in stinging cold as soon as they touch the affected area, the feeling equal to falling into the snow without gloves on. “Don’t touch!” Panicked he tries to remove your hand from his ice like body, but to no avail. Your warmth sends a shiver down his spine and his glassy eyes meet your now determent ones while his breathing slowly calms down again.

“Do you want to treat me?” he asked as your soft touch wanders over the frosty goosebumps, lingering under your fingertips while the heat of your body slowly melts away his pain. “Of course. Even a doctor needs help sometimes.” Your soft gaze meets his stubborn one. “I don’t need it.” and you would’ve believed it, if it wasn’t for his shaky breath and the cracked skin appearing under the ice on his hands, which will eventually add to the already scars littered forearms of his. Your hand carefully holds his as you start treating the new wounds, soft breaths tickling your ear while he rests his head on your shoulder. “Don’t you feel cold holding my hand?” His voice cracks under the again spreading cold. “If you don’t let go...we’ll both freeze”. Truth is, you were cold. Extremely cold. But you knew that Zayne had to endure this torture way more often then any normal being could. And if you, freezing your fingers off, would help to make his pain even just a little bit less, then you would do it a hundred times over and over again. “I won’t let you suffer alone Zayne. Not now, not ever again.” He could see your pain but also that fire in your eyes, that he could never defeat. “Try using your Evol...to resonate with me.”

He’s right, maybe you could calm his powers with yours. You grasp his hand and rest your forehead against his. If it weren’t for these freezing temperatures, you would blush because the intimate closeness that you both share at that moment. You focus in your mind to find one wave, that feels...out of control. Your closed eyes look around for a spark, a light, anything that feels like the frozen beauty of Zayne’s Evol, and only after a few short moments, you notice something strong, panicked and even a bit lost. Zayne stayed quiet the whole time, fighting with his body and mind. But as soon as you linked with his, he let out a staggered breath and you loose your focus. “Are you ok?! Did that hurt?” you look up at him like a scared puppy. He takes a deep breath and looks into your again worried eyes. “It doesn’t hurt”. He takes a short moment before saying, probably mostly to himself, as if to convince not only you but also himself “I’m not that weak”. Not wanting to see him so full of pain anymore, you concentrate on his resonance once again and as soon as you linked, his hand clutches yours as if his life depends on it...-which it kinda does at the moment. The seconds turn into minutes, his breathing calming until it settles down completely and the crystals on his body vanish while you feel the freezing waves crash over to you like a storm. Your body shivers as you disconnect the link between you two.

“Are you cold?”. Is the first thing he asks while still holding your hands, your fingertips coated by a slight frosty white sheen. “J-just a bit but what about you? A-are you ok now?” you let your almost numb thumb stroke over his now slightly damp knuckles, looking up to see his thin lips graced with one of his heart melting smiles. “Yes, I feel better now”. You smile back as you try to stand, but fall almost instantly back into the couch. “I-I think I might be a b-bit colder than I thought”. You stammer slightly as strong arms pull you into the side of your handsome doctor. “Take your time. There is no rush” he whispers. With a slightly tremble, he let’s out a relieved sign, as the last remains of the frost drip slowly over his damp skin. “The ice melted…” he looks deeply into your eyes, cradling one side of your face with his big hand. “You are truly remarkable”. His other hand still grasping yours. “Your hand is very cold...Is it frozen?”. His delicate, slender fingers massage your fingertips and palm to circulate the blood-flow, the color slowly returning to them. “Please don’t hide something like this from me Zayne. I was scared I’d loose you... even tho I can help you, you decided to be a hardheaded idiot…”. You pout and look away, only for him to turn your face back to trap you in his hazel eyes. “All right. There won’t be a next time”. He rests his forehead against yours and shuts his eyes. “I won’t hide it from you and make you worry”. You nod softly and place your free hand tenderly on his slightly cool, wet chest right below his collarbone.

Fascinated by how soft it feels even after this intense shock-frosting just mere moments ago, you let your fingers trace up and down between his pecs, only for him to catch said hand with his own. “There isn’t any ice on me” he pants slightly while his gaze seems to get darker with every soft touch your skin shares with his. Eyes clouded, he whispers in a low murmur: “Are you looking for something else on my body?”. Flustered you look down, while trying to stammer out an excuse. “Y-your… Your heart! I-I was looking for your heart to...uhm...to check if it’s beating?” you chuckled awkwardly, looking anywhere but Zayne. He shakes his head with slight amusement in his eyes. “My heart…”, he moves your hand right above it’s location, “...is over here”. You can feel the muscle pumping under your touch and his usually calm heartbeat is raised to a quick pounding. “As a person’s body temperature decreases, their heart rate increases” he explains matter-of-factly. “It’s so fast… are you still cold?” You feel the speed increasing once more. “Yes, my heart is beating more quickly compared to before. But it’s not because of the cold.” He leans down, a soft kiss placed against your cheek, then your lips. A slight smirk spreads across his face, his hand stroking slowly up your thigh and settling on your waist. “It also lets you check a person’s pulse.” He strokes along your side, his grip firm on you as he pulls you onto his lap, his eyes filled with emotions. Nervousness, relieve, lust and most importantly, love.

“Could you sit here for me?” His voice nothing more than a whisper as he slowly trails his hand under your fluffy shirt, long fingers sprawling across your lower back and stroking soothing circles into the skin. “Let me warm myself” You smile softly at his tender and loving touch, settling into his arms and cuddling closer to your lover. “You said that you could check a person’s pulse. How would you do that?” You whisper into his ear as you lean more against his tall frame, chests pressing against each other and your soft curves molding into his. A choked whimper leaves Zayne parted lips, his head nuzzling into your neck with a soft sigh, placing fluttering kisses against the side before sucking a small lovemark into your creamy skin. “This is the common carotid artery” his kisses moving down towards your collarbone, his honeyed words sending shivery goosebumps across your frame, your heart about to beat out of your chest. One of his hands finds it’s way away from your back, stroking gently over the trail of kisses he just left, stopping at the hickey and pressing softly against it. “Your heart is also beating quickly. Is it because of what happened earlier? Or because of this?” His fingers caressing the nape of your neck, his lips ghosting over your throat, inhaling the soft scent of your bodywash and your own. A soft whimper escapes your plush lips, quivering form the tension that burns hotter with each second. A low chuckle echos through his office and your head snaps up with a light frown. “Don’t laugh! It’s cold in here…”. “It’s cold?” he grins down at you twitching in his lap, strong muscles pressing you against his lean frame. “You should hug me more tightly then” His hands snake under your top again, dancing along your curves and waist, always teasing along the edge of your bra. Your hands trailing over his strong muscles, carefully wandering across his half-covered torso while slowly opening the buttons to reveal more. His voice now nothing more than a breathless whisper, begging to feel more of your sweet warmth. “Its still not enough. Tighter”

His hands grab your hips, pressing you against his crotch while softly grinding against your rapidly warming core. His mouth moving against yours in a tender kiss, trailing his way down again towards your cleavage, his hard member rocking against your clothed center with a delicious friction. His green orbs studying your reactions as the need for each other swims into a drunken haze. “Does this make you feel warmer?” Truth be told, you were burning with desire. Desire to love, to feel and to be felt by him. A bright burning flame, consuming your body and mind in a desperate lust filled state. But he can’t know that, not after he hid something so dangerous from you and made you fear for his life. “I don’t feel a thing Dr. Zayne… it’s still sooo cold.” You sang with a slight whine, making Zayne flash a slight, sly smirk on his soft lips. “you don’t feel anything…” His scarred hands rolling your hips harshly against his, you shake your head as a soft no, teasing him further while biting your bottom lip. “Its not enough for you?” His smirk getting wider, his tone filled with amusement.

Gold speckled eyes turning hungry, quickly flipping you both and pressing your smaller form into the couch underneath him. Open mouthed kisses shifting lower and lower, his tender finger clutching the hem of your shirt, pulling and bunching it up to reveal the lace covered mounds his awaiting lips so desperately desired. A path of nips, bites, marks and wet kisses lead the way to his true destination, his gaze locking with yours as his head slowly descends along your heated body. Stopping right above the waistband of your skirt, his knees settling on the floor as his hand grasps the back of your leg, placing it on his shoulder to continue his kisses along the inside of your thigh. Soft inhales and breathy sighs caressing the smooth plain of your leg. “Then what about this?” His eyes closing in bliss as his head nears the now soaking wetness of your panties. Low grumbling and wet kisses, accompanied by your soft noises, echo through the usually quiet room. Inhaling deeply as his nose touches your still clothed center, a chocked, deep gasp escaping him as the fragrance clouds his senses, sending an electrifying bolt down your spine and straight to your arching hole. “why are you trembling?” His teeth finding the elastic band of your lacy thong, pulling it down your legs till they dangle from your still lifted ankle, his watchful eyes never leaving yours in the process. “Z-Zayne, what if someone walks in?” His lips trailing back to your now dripping heat, his slender fingers softly spreading the pink lips, his breath shaky as his hooded lids glance at the drop of pleasure rolling along the twitching slit. “It’s alright. The door is locked...no one will walk in on us.” roughened thumb catching the clear bead, tongue savoring the taste off his fingertip. A small gasp escaping your kiss swollen mouth, cheeks tinted in an adorable shade of red. “I-I thought you wanted to warm me up Dr. Zayne” your hand stroking softly through the black strands of his hair. “We can do other things to raise our body temperature.” His breathless, needy mouth lowering to your lower lips, licking and sucking on the little bundle of nerves like a man starved. Your head thrown back in pleasure, back arching off the couch as his skilled tongue delves into your cunt, fucking the muscle into you like it’s all he ever did his whole entire life. Your grip on his scalp tightening, soft moans reaching his ears, making him hum against your swelling clit like listening to the most beautiful tune.

A thin sheen of sweat building on your forehead, eyes rolling back as his lips and tongue focus on your little bundle, while two of his fingers slip inside your wet cunt, curling expertly against your g-spot. “Hmm don’t stop~ I’m gonna… Ahh Zayne I’m gonna cum~” His fingers pumping quicker into your clenching depths, driven by your moans, his pace increasing till you release into his awaiting palm. Your leg trembling on top of his broad shoulder as he rides out your orgasm, placing a soft kiss against your stomach. “Looks like I overheated you a bit. Maybe you can share some of that heat with me now.” As your still panting form lays on the soft pillows before him, he rises to his feet and frees his arching member from the tight prison of his jeans. His left hand lifting your other leg onto him as well, while his right one aligns his arching cock with your puffy entrance. The delicious stretch of his tip filling your system with a keen sense of longing, grinding your hips up to push his massive length deeper into you, which coaxes a few quiet whimpers out of him. “You feel so perfect around me darling, so needy for me to fill you” he leans down, his soft whispers teasingly against your ear as he rolls his hips in a fluid motion, burying himself to the hilt. Your mouth flies open in a silent scream, head thrown back as the head of his girthy dick touches your cervix. Soft pants, quiet whispers and love filled moans ring through the heart-surgeon’s office, underlined by the loud and wet slapping sounds as his thighs ram against your ass with every drag and thrust into your deepest parts. His brows furrowing, leaning down to place soft and tender kisses against your chest and neck while his hips rut wildly in contrast, like you’d disappear underneath him at any second. Legs still placed on top of his shoulders, your frame now folded in half, as his pace quickens with every hit to your sensitive spot. You claw into his back, searching for an anchor to ground you, while waves of pleasure shoot from your overly sensitive clit to your fucked out brain, preparing for the quickly approaching second release of today. “So deep~! Don’t stop please, I’m so close again!” His thrusts never faltering, green eyes almost swallowed by the blacks of his blown pupils. “Say my name princess. Say my name and cum for me” and that’s what did it for you. With a scream of his name on your lips, you crash into the waves of your pleasure, effectively pulling him with you as you tighten around him like a vice. A deep groan vibrating against your throat as milky warm ropes of cum fill you as he carries you both trough your shared orgasms, fierce grinding turns into shallow rolls of his hips till he stills completely inside of you.

Soft giggles a low whispers fill the room as you both lay there, sweaty but satisfied, still intertwined in the most intimate way possible. His hand reaching for yours, lips grazing the ring claded finger with the softest touch, symbolizing the promise made to each other a while ago. “Thank you… for caring for me. I know I’m difficult from time to time but… you’re always here for me and I really appreciate that my love.” His gaze meeting yours as a soft smile spreads across your face. “Always my dear. In this life and every other that follows, I’ll always be by your side” you kiss him softly, missing the short pain of past forgotten lives flashing across his eyes. But you were right, you will be by his side. Forever.

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

-SerinaViolet

Finally wrote my first fanfiction again after 6 years and my first ever LaDs FF none the less! I hope you all enjoyed it and if you did, I would appreciate a like, follow or nice comment^^ thank you all for reading till the end and till next time <3

[dovespovies]

Silence 02

Jason Todd x Female Reader

You meet Red Hood again, but who's taking care of who now?

Home Invasion and some violence

I appreciate every single one of you lovely sweethearts liking and reblogging! You have my whole heart and thank you so much!

It’s been a week since your blanket was left bloody and your encounter with Red Hood. 

For some reason, he’s been occupying your mind during the late nights, when you relax and watch some nonsense show, hoping there would be a knock on the balcony. Part of you hated yourself for wishing he would get hurt again so he would enter your apartment, but why else would he visit you again? It was a one-time thing, and now he’s gone without any trace and left no hope of return. 

Every little thing that is related to him intrigued you. If he was on the newspaper or any TV channels displaying his recent catches, you’d always find yourself digging for more information. It was a secret between you and him, and you wanted to keep it that way. 

It was a usual day at work. Your coworker Daisuke dropped off a few photos he collected. “You need to get some juicy work on this, you’d have boys and girls fawning over your left and right!” He laughed out as he leaned down to read your article. “ I don’t know, Dai, the vigilantes aren’t a part of my job resume and it might be a bit offending for the others” you hardly spoke as you pinched your lower lip, thinking. Recently, the office was filled with vigilante cases and as a responsible worker there, it was starting to become more of your job. They were running out of true crime enthusiasts so now they landed more loads on the art department. “Your writing is great! I’m sure you’d manage to entertain whoever reading these.” He encouraged you but it didn’t seem to work. 

You grabbed the photos Daisuke left you and started flipping through them. You wrote articles about various topics. But you chose to stick to anything Art and Culture-related. Recently, they were pushing you to work on some vigilantes. More specifically, Red Hood. 

You found a few pics of Mr Hood jumping through roofs with his fellow vigilantes. These were new. You found yourself staring at his photos. Maybe your yearning and longing for teenage years still lingered. The fantasy of someone swooping you off your feet was a mere memory but was it really? You couldn’t pinpoint what about this man that pulled at your heartstrings. Maybe you should've told him that he could drop in whenever he needed. Maybe.

Your work ended early that day. You picked up some packs of instant ramen and bought some dumplings on the way. Tomorrow is Sunday. Weekend. This was your time to finish the last few episodes of Murder House. You dropped your keys a few times while trying to open the door which left you huffing and frowning. You slammed the door and let out a deep breath. You looked around your empty living room. With no intention of course. You set down your food and went to shower. 

After that, you prepared your food and sat down with the same blanket. Now clean. You turned on the show and bumped your ramen down. Occasionally you’d peak at the balcony door and get a disappointing pout. You finished eating and made a makeshift bed in front of your couch. Laying there lets you sleep and consumes you. 

Thud 

Thud

Thud 

BANG!

You jolted awake and looked around frantically. The TV blared, “Go away, Tate!”. 

BANG! 

You panicked. Gunshots.

You grabbed your phone and turned your TV off. You ran to your bedroom without even trying to peak throw and see what was happening. You sat at the edge of your bed, clearly shaken up. You decided to call someone but your phone fucking died. The gunshots slowed down. You got up, knees weak, as you walked to your door, but stopped immediately. A vase just broke in the living room. 

Someone was inside. 

Your body stopped. Your breath quickened. Shit. You then heard rustling. Someone was messing with the plates. The footsteps grew in. Much heavier. You slowly backed up and went inside your closet. You could hear your own breathing. You saw the silhouette of someone right in front of your bedroom door. And prayed that it’d go away. It did. 

BAM!

The door flew open, you screamed almost but covered your mouth with a hand. The figure was hard to makeout, but you knew they were huge. 

“Fuck, where the hell are you?” The voice was robotic and masculine. You closed your eyes. “I was looking everywhere. I know you are here. This small apartment can’t hide you..” The tone was condescending. What the fuck? 

You had no beef with anyone whatsoever. The fact that this assumable assassin was after you, made your heart drop to your ass. “Gotcha!” 

The person screamed as they looked under the bed. “Aw, bummer.” You tried your best to hide in the clothes. Sweating and shivering, you almost thought your life would flash before your eyes. The footsteps grew in and you PRAYED that the person wouldn’t find you among the clothes. You closed your eyes and the figure closed in, silently, slowly, and deadly. You heard the footsteps move away toward the bathroom. You let out a heavy sigh.

"GOTCHA!"

 The closet door snapped open and you flinched, you looked at them with fear in your eyes. The person was wearing a cyber-type of suit, face covered in a helmet. They grabbed your wrist and yanked you. You yelped helplessly. You were on the floor, looking up at the figure as they looked down, a sword clenched around their left hand as they cornered you in. “Pathetic. Thought you could hide?” The voice was filled with hate. What did you ever do?

“Who…are you? What do you want?” your voice was small and trembling. The suited figure let out a big laugh, it made you want to throw up. Your eyes began to water. Yes, Gotham wasn’t the best place to live in. 

The sword made its way closer to your neck, you couldn't move. You were done for. Yeah.

The figure tried to say something but a loud bang caught both of you off guard. The robot-man pointed the sword out the window and you desperately prayed that it was someone (Hood). There was a loud bang and it happened so fast you forgot it ever did. 

Red Hood himself, jumped at the Robot-man and dragged him onto the floor. His sword was forgotten as Good dragged him away. A few punches were thrown and soon they were out of sight. You lay there, on the floor, heaving and panting like a dog. Tears began to fall from your eyes as you closed them. Wishing it was a dream. A bad dream. And the ramen will soon kick in and you’ll have to get up to hit the toilet. It didn't. When you opened your eyes, it felt like hours passed. 

You heard more footsteps and curled yourself up in a ball, silently sobbing, your heartbeat echoing through your whole body, vibrating as your vision began to fog up. You didn’t open your eyes when you felt a presence. You didn’t open them when gentle arms picked you up. You stayed curled up when you were carried to your bed, being laid there gent;y. You must've become numb because you felt a warm hand touching your forehead. Did you have a fever? You felt emotional when you heard a familiar voice. “ Hey, you’re safe. You’re okay. I’m here.” 

You opened your eyes when you were met with the familiar eyes. Oh, you felt like you could breathe again. He held your hand so softly, his eyes smiling at you so softly, his presence was so gentle you could cry. 

“Hi…” He smiled down at you. 

A sob broke out as your heart clenched. “Oh, it’s okay…” You couldn’t help it when his voice was so loving to you. He embraced you, cradling you like the most fragile porcelain doll. He caressed your hair and let you rain on him, while also whispering “shh” and “you’re safe”s. He smelled of smoke and something you never knew. After a bit, you sat up, eyes puffy and nose twitching. He gently inspected your face, “Are you hurt, sweetheart?”

And you wanted to cry again. I shook my head. “I don’t know what happened…” Your voice made his heart shatter. You poor soul. He cupped your cheek. “Whatever happened, is over now, you’re alright. You’re with me now.” his thumb ran over your cheek. “Why are you here?” 

“To protect you. Always.” Your mouth turned upside down as your heart swelled up. “Thank you…” You choked out. There were still so many questions going through your head. Part of you still believed you were dreaming, and you wanted to wake up. But part of you wanted it to be real, for him to be there, keep you safe. 

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Thank You!

[frillydolle]

Hiiii! This is my first time requesting ever, I really love your writing and was wondering if you’d be interested in a fic where Arthur Morgan and this high-class lady love each other but due to their reputations can’t ever meet in public. So Arthur has to sneak into her bedroom or vice versa??

Maybe she ends up abandoning her high class life for him?? It’s up to you!

Sorry if this is confusing and please don’t feel the need to respond, I’m sure you have so much other work to do. thank you so much!

arthur morgan x rich female reader

꒰ 𝝑𓏲 ꒱ sooo ur like mary linton , slightly aka very suggestive near end

he was an outlaw from the west. and u were a high society lady living in the big city saint denis. it could never work... a lady couldn't live and love with a cowboy, could she?

with the magic of letter sending and meeting up during the night, the two of u always enjoyed your time together. he'd give some flowers or a necklace (that he totally didn't steal) to u, as action spoke louder than words. arthur wanted nothing more than to make sure that u knew he absolutely adored u. even if the small voice at the back of his kind tells me that he shouldn't be pursuing this.

he's practically letting u be in the hands of danger. he's an outlaw, anything could happen. he could be jailed.. or even worse- which u didn't dare to think about. or just what if something does happen and he goes cold? he just hates the idea of upsetting u in any way. it was something he couldn't handle.

you were in the comforts in ur bed, reading some fantasy novel u got from the bookstore a couple of days ago. even if your mother suggests that a lady shouldn't waste her time on such things, u didn't care. books were like your brain, a sort of escapism from your strict, wealthy life. since you would do anything to leave this heavy life of urs. and that's when u heard some footsteps..

and this caused me to look to ur right, watching the window fiddle and shake for a little bit. u adjusted urself as u sat up, putting ur book down beside u. and soon, seeing a thick arm come through before his leg goes through, and oh, u recognise that gun belt from anywhere.

“...arthur? i didn't think i'd see you again, the papers-” “oh, i have my ways, sweetheart.” he says as he pulls himself through your window, staying aware of his surroundings as not to bump into anything that will cause your parents to walk in. and how glad u were to see him! a sight of relief left ur lips before u stood up, leaning up to give him a kiss on his cheek.

“i missed you, arthur.. how is everything?” u ask him as u sit back down on ur bed, and he follows ur action, sitting next to do as u felt his callous hand reach for urs. and soon, ur fingers intertwine with his, a small subtle of intimacy. eveeytime he let himself into ur room, those same feelings that bubbled up inside from the first time u met him. ur eyes would be in such adoration for the man, like he was a forbidden fruit, a desire that wasn't good morals.

“'m better now that 'm with ya.” he says before he leans into u, his lips soon landing on urs as a giggle as u felt his hand provocatively slide up ur thigh. “dutch wants to rob the bank here.. but i ain't sure of it.” he murmurs before he moves down, lightly kisses your neck as he feels ur arms snake around his neck.

“... your life is always more exciting than mine.” u reply softly, trying ur damn best to stay so as not to make a sound in fear of ur parents hearing either u or arthur. and by ur words, he leaned up slightly to look at u, his head tilted slightly. “if yer thinkin' what 'm thinkin' then it ain't happenin'...” he replied before going down to ur neck once more and then to ur collarbone. it was like he was trying to distract u, that damn-

“i'd rather leave in the middle of the night to come see ya, knowin' that nothing ain't happened t'ya.” he hummed softly before he bit down ur collarbone, and that left a pretty mark on ur skin. it always made u giggly, knowing that he was often careful like that to make sure that no one didn't see anything. i mean, he was always so observant, until now.

until the two of u heard the sounds of ur parents' footsteps making way to ur room.

[oneforthemunny]

oneforthemunny proudly presents: two for the show (aka my two year anniversary writing challenge!!) 

as a thank you to each and every one of you who have supported me (since funsonmunson and beyond) i have curated a prompt list that invites and encourages each and every one of you to write for my eddies! there is nothing i love more than getting to see your take on my fics, stories, and lore, and getting to read them! it’s such a treat for me and so rewarding, and so i hope you all participate! 

feel free to do as many and as much as you want! multiple entires, prompts, hell, even make up your own! the more the merrier here! each will be reblogged and added to a masterlist for everyone to read and support! 

rules: i kindly ask that you tag me @oneforthemunny and the writing with the #munnystwofortheshow just so i can find it and read, reblog for everyone else to enjoy, and add to the masterlist!

thank you all so much again! i love love LOVE each and every one of you, and have enjoyed every moment (yes, every moment) here on this blog with all of you <3 

below are the prompts!! i can’t wait to see what you all come up with!! 

note: i decided to do general prompts, since that’s what you all voted on. this applies for each and every eddie (a list of my eddie aus: older!eddie, bouncer!eddie, janitor!eddie, cop!eddie, cowboy!eddie, mafia!eddie, modern!eddie, dom!eddie, boxer!eddie, hockey!eddie, rockstar!eddie, and exhusband!eddie). 

prompts:

prompt 1: so since it’s my tumblr anniversary, gimme an anniversary fic!! dating anniversary, marriage anniversary, engagement, adoption, pregnancy, “first time we fucked” anniversary- anything! make it fluffy, make it sweet, make it smutty, make it sad if you want? it’s all up to you! 

prompt 2: i’m forever a domestic girly, you guys know that, so write me a little domestic fic <3 include the kids, the pets, moving in together, doing mundane shit together- make it a day in the life with eddie. the chill days at home, what do they look like? what do you do? fluff, smut, angst, a little bit of it all. whatever you want to do, just show me what you picture! 

prompt 3: i get so so so many angsty requests, so i have to request one myself- break my heart. tear it to fuckin’ shreds, put it back together (or don’t). end goal is to have us all hurting. some example prompts- mafia!eddie getting hurt or vice versa, ex husband!eddie and a fight that led to the divorce, rockstar!eddie and rehab, for a few examples. use any of the lore you’d like, just make it hurt :’) 

prompt 4: idk why, maybe it’s a guilty pleasure, but i love a vacation/road trip kinda story. love to know where they’re going, what they’re doing, why. honeymoon, summer vacation, a funeral maybe? whatever you want it to be! just tell me where they’re going, why, and of course all the other juicy details. road head, maybe? reader gets car sick way too easily (me)? or at the destination, what are they doing? going? 

prompt 5: you guys knew you weren’t escaping a smut fic. c’mon, it’s me, evie lol. i want the sluttiest, horniest, nastiest smut i’ve ever read before in my life. jaw on the ground, reaching in my bedside drawer type smut. feel free to use the lore, use a prompt that was sent in and elaborate on it, rewrite your own favorite horny moment, or make one up! you guys know i’m a sucker for a spanking fic, but really, anything slutty and smutty will do ;)

prompt 6: this is also an evie indulgent request, i love holidays- as you all know. so i would love to see what you think each of the eddie’s or their reader’s favorite holiday is, and how they celebrate it. why they love it, what they do- the works. can be birthdays (for all the leos lol) or any holiday, really. make it fluffy, smutty, angsty if you want! 

for anyone needing some examples or some ideas, always feel free to message me and i can help! :)

[pickyourpoisonandevolve]

Stars in Her Eyes, Part 2

Part 1 here

*reads old decrepit spell book* “if you write the trauma in the fic, maybe it will fix it in post” hmm yes of course of course.

More of whatever the hell this is turning out to be. I looooove Price and I waaaaaannnttt him to fix me and you and all of us together. The worms in my brain won’t leave until it happens!

—

“Well, you’re cleared for field duty.”

“Hooray.” A listless response.

A huff from the nurse. As she cleaned up, she paused. “I know I’m generally pissing in the wind when I say this, but maybe a woman will believe me this time. Take care of… whatever’s on your mind. The head trauma, the noise, the explosions, it wears you down. You don’t need old demons eating away at what’s left.”

As you got up from the chair you paused. “What do you mean? I’m fine, I’m clear, right?”

“The, wait, shit hold on maybe I’m wrong. You’re the one with the concussion, reports of hallucinations in the field.” She said, flipping through your chart. “Yeah, reported by your captain. May want to ask him about it before you—“ A click of the door closing. “—go back out there. I don’t know why I thought this would go any different.” She muttered to herself, getting ready for the next patient.

—

You thought that was a dream. You were SURE that was a dream. Shit shit shit. No fucking wonder they came to see you so often. Gaz brought flowers from all of them. Soap brought cookies and his loud mouth. Ghost brought complaints from the nurses, saying he “lingered too much” and “wanted reports that didn’t belong to him”. Price however brought nothing. Radio silence there.

You made it back to barracks a little before dinner. A shower and refresh from everything. Sneaking into the shared break room, angling to see if anyone was mad, worried, feeling… wrong about you. You’ll fix it. The last thing you wanted was them thinking you weren’t anything less than capable. Surely you weren’t perfect after this. But capable. That was achievable.

“Oi, look who’s back amongst the livin’!” Soap jumped up first and came to check you out. As rough and tumble as he was, he put the breaks on, opting for grabbing you by the shoulders instead of picking you up. “Thought we scrambled you somethin’ fierce this time.” He said, grabbing your chin and giving you a once over.

Huffing, you slapped arms away and composed yourself. You did offer a smile as you smoothed out your shirt. “Morphine cures all wounds, cognitive and otherwise.”

“So I heard.” Gaz’s voice behind you, alongside Ghost as they entered. His smile could stop traffic you thought to yourself. “Thanks for the flowers.” You said quietly. “Anytime.” He replied, gently rubbing a thumb across your knuckles.

Ghost took a big, typical stoic stance against the counter, arms crossed. Eyes big and soft for you. Oh. He’s worried? That never happens, you thought, a needle of panic through your chest. A big, warm hand on your shoulder. “Price wants you in his office when you can. Glad you’re back.” The tail end was more of a rumble than words.

The panic bloomed as three sets of eyes stayed on you. Too much, you thought. Too much care, too much consideration. You were the one who was supposed to worry, not them. You fussed with your nails, looking down. “Thanks for the help, guys. I’m, I’m sorry.”

“We’re a team, it’s what we do. Now go, he’s waiting.” Ghost demanded.

—

You shook your ankle absentmindedly. Sitting on the couch in his office. The same sick feeling in your throat and nerves as the principals office. He waved you in, cigar in hand, on a phone call with papers and documents strewn around. Life didn’t stop for him, you thought. You took to staring at the back of a framed photo, disassociating about who could be on the other side, listening to the drone of his voice. A loved one? A sibling? No, he never talked about brothers or sisters. It’s warm in here. Smells like him. Maybe you would too when you left. Maybe he—

“Sergeant.”

A gasp left your chest as your eyes refocused. Just silence, now. A cigar now crushed in the ashtray, the last hurrah of smoke and scent and spice wafted in the air. Relatable, you thought.

You cleared your throat. “You wanted to see me, sir.”

His eyes roamed over you. Again. And again. Like he was lost in his own thoughts. “You back with us?” He finally grunted.

“More or less.”

He stood up, a little too quickly. Made your heart beat a little too loudly in your ears. Made you feel like you were in the dark room again. The fear and the unknown smothering everything. “I’m sorry about the mission, it was my fault, I wasn’t there, I wasn’t—“

A raised hand. The rambling died in your throat as he made his way over to you. Two bourbons poured, one placed in your hands. A seat taken next to you. The crystal tumbler cool in your hand. A gift for his 10th year in the SAS. Back to the silence.

You two had always navigated the silence together. Normally it was more comforting than this. A quiet nod of understanding in a debrief. A roll of the eyes in a meeting. Notifying that there were enemies in the area on missions. He always knew you better than you knew yourself it seemed. That’s why he was the captain. He did this for everyone. Didn’t he?

The hassle of talking about it, this, whatever this was, never reared its head. Rules, optics, whatever the excuse was. But he knew. What you were. What he was. A lit candle in your dark room. One you held with both hands when the dark was too much. Whispering and praying it would stay this time. A prayer to a deaf god, you thought.

Maybe not so deaf after all. He swirled his glass in his hands, staring straight ahead. “I didn’t throw you away. I need you to know that. More were coming, I needed you elsewhere.”

A grip in your chest. A swallow of your drink. “I know. I was distracted on the mission, I know that, but I had it handled, I should have been there to have your back.” You rushed out.

You feel a hand in your hairline, and for a moment, you’re back in that room. Half a room. Humming, praying to your deaf God. “I’m sorry about your head.” He rumbled out. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not as much as you leaving.”

A broken sound comes from him as you close your eyes and finish your drink.

A flurry of motion. Your glass taken from your hand, his arms bringing you in, fighting, grunting, till stillness as he pins you on your back, holding your cheek in his palm. It’s been too long since he’s seen your stars.

“Tell me about the song.”

“No.”

“It can be an order if you want.”

“No.”

“… please.” His resolve breaks and you see desperation in his face. “Jesus, let me fucking take care of you like you deserve, tell me about the bloody song.”

“It was someone else’s mom.” You say, returning his gaze, tears flowing freely now. “You read my fucking report. Home was shit. So were the parents. It was another girl, she, she hurt herself playing. Her mom came over and sang the song to her. If, if I hurt myself, I just got another be—“ a hiccup shakes your chest. “I sing it to myself since… no one did it for me.”

Price expected something like this, but his heartbreak took him by surprise. The tear that rolled off of his nose onto your face broke the spell, his hands now wiping away the tears and the pain. And for the first time, you let him. You let him see it all. His candle now a fire in your dark room. With any luck he’ll burn it all fucking down, you hope.

[marauder-misprint]

Hi! I have no idea how to request correctly butI really liked how you write fred and I was wondering if I can maybe request you doing qn insecure!fred x reader where they are dating and molly wants reader to come over but fred knowing they are poor doesnt want the reader to see. When he tells her and she agrees to come over and meets his familyi(the ones she hasnt met yet) she slips up on something stupid like saying a twosided comment about their house and molly takes it the bad way, disliking reader and pressuring fred into breaking up with her but reader gets defensive and they fight, the weasley siblings on readers side and in the end molly starts to tolerate you. You absolutely don't have to but thx anyways!!

Thank you for the request! Although, I think you are referring to a Fred fic I reblogged so I can’t take credit for that 😅 ANYWAYS, I hope you like this - my first Hogwarts Era (Trio Era? Golden Era? Lightning Era?) 

Peculiar

insecure!Fred x reader

3.4k words

cw: angst, fluff, y/n

One thing Fred liked about Hogwarts was his family’s financial situation didn’t matter. Everyone wore the same uniform, even if his were hand-me-downs from Percy, and his family always managed to pull through to get the supplies they needed, which meant his broom wasn’t the newest but it did the job. He knew he couldn’t pretend his family had galleons upon galleons in their vault like other families. He knew he couldn’t spoil his new girlfriend in all the ways he wanted to, and by goodness, did he wish he could spoil you.

Still, things were going good. You didn’t discuss your family’s financial situation much, just enough for him to know you were from a more well-off family. You were only teenagers after all. You enjoyed spending time with each other and all of the other things that came with teenage romances, including the moments where you both that maybe it could be more than just a teenage romance. 

Things were good. Until a letter from Molly arrived. 

Errol near crashed into the Gryffindor table at breakfast in his typical fashion.

“INCOMING!” Lee hollered as the aging bird landed among the plate and globals, sending food and drink everywhere. 

“Oh, Errol,” George groaned as he untied the letter at his foot. “Oi, Freddie, it’s for you.”

Fred took the letter and quickly read it, a frown appearing on his face the further down he got in the letter. George picked it up right away, despite barely being able to see it in his peripheral vision as he tended to the owl. 

“What’s it?” he asked. 

“Mum wants me to invite Y/N to the Burrow over the summer.” His frown was paired with bunched brows and a pale face. 

Katie clapped Fred on his back enthusiastically. 

“That’s good, yeah? She’ll get to experience that Weasley hospitality Molly’s known for!”

Fred just shook his head, rereading the letter. It was bad enough that he couldn’t spoil you at school, but what would you think if you saw his home, how they lived. It wasn’t as bad as some people teased, but it certainly was no Malfoy Manor or Diggory Estate. 

“Mate, am I getting the invite this year?” Lee asked George, throwing an arm around his shoulder and shaking him. 

“Can’t. Mum’s already planning for Harry and Hermione. Plus Bill, Charlie and Percy will be home too. I think Perce is having Penelope over too? It’s going to be a full house.”

Lee swore. “Losing to your girlfriend, Fred. It hurts,” he said teasingly. 

Fred crumpled the letter and shoved it into his pocket. He didn’t say anything for the rest of breakfast. 

“Okay, why the long face? Don’t you want Y/N to come?” George asked Fred as they made their way to their first lesson of the day. 

“I… It’s the Burrow. What if she expects more? Better?”

George just shrugged and then gave his twin a knowing look. “So we don’t wipe our arses with galleons. It don’t matter that much. You know Mum just wants to meet her.”

“Mum really wants to meet her.” Fred stopped walking. “Do you know who told ‘er? I hadn’t mentioned Y/N in any of my letters yet.”

“Probably Ginny,” George laughed. 

“What’d my favorite Weasley do?” you asked as you caught up with the boys, a grin on your face. 

“Aw, I thought I was your favorite,” George whined with a faux-pout. 

“Ginerva is telling Mum all my secrets,” Fred said before planting a kiss on the side of your forehead. You didn’t need to know that you were one of those secrets. 

The boys stopped discussing the letter for the time being. George at least had the tact to talk to Fred about his worries about you at a later time. 

You weren’t oblivious to Fred’s palpable worry during the day. He wasn’t normally this quiet or fidgety. Maybe there were days when he was more restless than usual, but today, he kept checking the clock, nervously cracking his knuckles and crumpling something in his pocket. 

One glance at George told him that you were picking up that something was off.

“Don’t worry ‘bout, love. I’ll get ‘im sorted out for you,” George whispered to you after classes before hurrying to catch up with his brother who had already started making his way to Gryffindor Tower.

You watched them both with a concerned frown, but eventually decided not to think about it too much. Did you wish Fred would talk to you about whatever was eating his mind? Yes. But if George was convinced he could get his brother out of the funk, it couldn’t be too bad. 

“Do you think she’ll dump your sorry arse when she sees home?” George asked once they were far enough away. 

Fred didn’t answer. His brain said ‘maybe’ but he couldn’t bring himself to voice it.

George laughed in disbelief. “She wouldn’t! Bloody hell, why’d you think that?”

“You know she comes from… more,” Fred said quietly, the words feeling uncomfortable in his mouth. You weren’t rich rich, but still, it was more than the Weasleys. 

“Hate to break it to you, but I don’t think she’s a gold digger.” George clamped a hand on Fred’s shoulder as they stood outside the Fat Lady’s portrait. “If she was, don’t you think she’d be with Flint or Pinch-Smedley, or Oggspire? Don’t be dense.” His voice had taken a firmer tone.

Don’t be dense, Fred repeated in his mind as he sat in the common room waiting for dinner. Don’t be dense. It’d be fine. It had to be. Was it a tad embarrassing? Sometimes, but at least they didn’t all sleep in one room like Malfoy had once said. 

Fred called you over to sit with him at dinner and by the way he smiled at you as you sat down next to him, you knew George had worked some magic. Fred was back to being Fred. He leaned in as you filled up your plate.

“So, I was wondering if you’d like to visit the Burrow this summer. Mum’s given permission. She’d love to meet you,” he said in a hushed voice. 

You had heard stories about summers at the Burrow. You knew it was home to more than the Weasleys when school was out; Harry, Hermione, Lee, Angelina, Katie, among others, had all been. There were legends of 3-on-3 quidditch matches and Molly’s delectable meals. And you had just been invited. Your face lit up with the brightest smile Fred had seen since the day he asked you out. 

“Yeah, Fred, I’d love to!” You leaned forward so you could see George on Fred’s other side. “Hear that, George? I’m going to see the Burrow!” 

---

Your mother dropped you off at the nearest muggle village to the Burrow. She waited with you until Fred came to meet you. 

“Your parents will be there the whole time?” she asked him when he arrived.

“Yes, ma’am. Mum is dying to meet her,” he said politely.

You, however, rolled your eyes. You bid your mother goodbye and went with Fred.

“I assured her that your parents would be around. Told her you guys have friends over every summer,” you ranted to him as you walked. “That your mum loves to host and meet all your friends. I mean, how else would she get to meet everyone that Ginny talks about in her letters home?”

Fred laughed. Of course you knew it was Ginny who wrote home the most.

He cautiously watched your expression as the Burrow came into view. They had passed the barn and chicken coop, along with several animals. You were speechless as you looked the house up and down. His worry about what you would think melted away when he saw the pure awe on your face. 

“What a peculiar home!” you exclaimed as you reached the sign that said ‘The Burrow’. “The magic-”

“Peculiar?” Molly gasped from the kitchen. 

You hadn’t noticed her yet, still taking in everything that was the Burrow. It’s many stories with rooms jutting out every which way that gave it a very crooked and semi-lopsided appearance. Just from the outside, it was very different from any house you had ever seen, wizarding or muggle. 

You gave Fred a concerned sideways glance. His mother did not sound happy with your comment. He gave you a soft yet reassuring smile. This was his home after all and you had agreed to come stay and meet his family, and so far, you were taking it well.

“You’re here!” Ginny squealed as she burst out the front door and pulled you into a hug. “I can’t wait to show you around!” 

“I can show Y/N around just fine, Ginny,” Fred said, an easier smile coming to his face. 

You just laughed, taking Ginny’s hand once she released you. The three of you entered into the house and walked right into the surprisingly harsh gaze of Molly. 

“Mum,” Fred said warily. “This is Y/N.” 

“Pleasure to meet you,” you said kindly. “You have a-”

“Peculiar home, as you said outside,” Molly cut you off. 

You took a step backwards, stepping on Fred’s foot. He sucked a breath in, loud enough for you to hear. 

“Dinner’s at seven. Keep doors open,” she added shortly before turning back into the kitchen. 

You tried to give Fred a questioning look but he was staring after his mother.

“Come with me. I’ll show you my room! It’s where you, me and ‘Mione will be sleeping. Like one big slumber party!” Ginny said, grabbing your arm again and pulling you toward the twisting stairs. 

Once you and Ginny were gone, Fred followed his mother into the kitchen.

“Mum?” he asked cautiously. 

In his mind, he wanted to ask ‘what the bloody hell was that? You gave me, George and Ron an easier time when we stole Dad’s car to rescue Harry.’ He didn’t, but he wanted to. And he was glad he didn’t when Molly spun around, glaring and pointing a wooden spoon at him.

“Do. Not.” Her voice was sharp. “That girl… The gall… Insulting us before she even…” She turned back to the pot she was stirring and was more muttering to herself than talking to Fred. “Expects us to feed and care for her… Peculiar… I’ll show her peculiar…” 

The rest of the day and the next two were filled with never-ending fun, except for meals when Molly sat down and glared at you from across the table. You spent most of your time with Fred and George, as you had expected to, but you helped with chores around the house and chatted with just about everyone. Percy and Penelope were more quiet than the rest, often opting to read or discuss their jobs quietly when they returned from them. You tried not to take it personally that Molly seemed to like her much more than you. 

Then you got the delight to meet Bill and be properly introduced to Charlie. The latter had been at Hogwarts when you started but it wasn’t like you ever really interacted. The eldest of the Weasley children were incredible story-tellers and just as hilarious as the rest of them. The way Charlie talked about his work with dragons almost made you wish you had taken Care of Magical Creatures and Bill’s stories about Egypt and Gringotts were overall impressive. 

The fourth day of your stay is when you heard how unwelcome you apparently were at the Burrow. Or, at least, according to Molly. 

The living room was alive with various games being played by the siblings and guests. Exploding snap, wizards’ chess, gobstones, you name it. It was loud and warm and fun. Fred noticed your glass was empty and went to the kitchen to refill it for you. 

“Ever the gentleman,” you laughed as he disappeared through the door.

“Fred, how dare you bring a girl like that into this house!” Molly’s voice could be heard through the walls, sending a sudden hush through the room. 

You blinked, looking from George to Ron to Hermione. 

“I thought your family didn’t care about status?” you asked, confusion obvious on your face. 

The Weasley were purebloods. You were a halfblood but Hermione was fully muggleborn and Molly didn’t seem to have a problem with her. Maybe her issue was with wizards and muggles mating? Certainly a new take on blood status… 

You could hear Fred and Molly arguing although significantly quieter than her first outburst. When he returned, his face was beet red and he had forgotten the glasses of water. 

“So, what was that?” Ron asked, breaking the tension.

Fred shook his head before forcing a smile. “Nothing. Just a miscommunication.” 

You knew it wasn’t nothing. For a prankster, Fred could be terrible at lying if something wasn’t sitting right with him. You and George tried to get more out of him to no avail. He wouldn’t discuss what he and their mum had argued about. You two knew it was about you, but Fred gave no details.

When Fred worried about bringing you to his home, he didn’t know that he was worrying about the wrong person. You loved the Burrow and he felt that that much was plain as day to see. But it wasn’t to Molly and Fred ended up telling George as much when he asked him again when they were alone in their room. 

“She wants me to break up with Y/N,” Fred whispered, his voice shaking from anger. “Said she’s too proud for the family. Too stuck up. That she’s rude.”

“But she’s not!”

“I know she’s not. I tried to tell her that. Explain what Y/N meant by ‘peculiar’ and that it’s a good thing. Mum wasn’t having it.”

And the next day, things got worse. Molly stopped trying to hide her distaste for you. She didn’t mutter her comments anymore, rather saying them with full conviction. You tried to stay out of her way and genuinely tried to keep your expression pleasant, but the constant bombardment of hurtful words was getting too much. You hit your breaking point at dinner.

“Can you pass the salt?” you asked no one in particular. It didn’t matter who passed it to you as long as someone did. 

“In this peculiar home, we use manners,” Molly snapped. “Fred, I told you, you need a girl with manners. She certainly doesn’t have any.”

Your expression twisted. 

“Would you rather I just reach over the entire table? Sorry I forgot ‘please,’” you replied, sounding harsher than you would normally speak to any adult, let alone your boyfriend’s mother. 

Molly scoffed. “You are no good for my Fred. You are lucky I don’t toss you out now. He can do so much better.” 

You stood up with so much force your chair scraped the floor, hitting the wall. 

“If that’s how you feel about me…” Your voice cracked. You could feel the heat rising to your face and your hands beginning to shake. Tears began to well behind your eyes, but you weren’t going to let Molly see you cry. “No need to toss me out. I’ll just leave now.” 

You turned and left the room before chaos broke out. You could hear Fred and George yelling. You could hear Arthur and Molly yelling. Ron, Hermione and Ginny joined in before you made it to the front door. 

When Fred had invited you to spend time with his family over the summer, you didn’t expect to be in their garden sobbing as you launched garden gnomes over the hedge. You could still hear the yelling inside the Burrow. You weren’t exactly sure what you did wrong, what you did to make Molly dislike you so much so quickly. Your wand laid on the ground off the side with a soft glow from the Lumos you had cast so you could sort of see what you were doing.

“Are you… de-gnoming our garden?” George asked, trying to hide the amusement in his voice as you launched another gnome. The yelling had quieted now, but you could still hear that heated words were being exchanged.

“One bit me…” you mumbled before sniffling again. 

One had bit you, but that wasn’t why you were crying and you knew that George knew that. Being bit, however, made you feel slightly better about the tears streaming down your face. 

“You know he’s not going to break up with you.”

You nodded. “What did I do?” You launched another gnome.

“You, erm, called the Burrow peculiar? I guess Mum didn’t like that…” He chuckled awkwardly.

When you gave a loud sniffle instead of laughing with him, he pulled you into a hug. You dropped the gnome you had in your hand.

“She’ll come ‘round. Fred’s in there. Ron’s there. Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Percy even. They are all trying to explain to Mum that you didn’t mean it like that. I mean, come on, you got golden boy Percy defending you.”

You gave him a weak smile as you pulled out of his hug. You picked up your wand and pointed it at the Burrow, although it didn’t do much to illuminate the building. 

“It is peculiar though! It’s amazing! Ne’er seen anything like it before. It’s so… distinctly Weasley in the best way possible!” 

George let out a loud laugh and soon enough you were giggling with him. He kept you company outside and kept you laughing until there were no more sniffles coming from you. Eventually, Fred came to collect you both. He led you upstairs to his and George’s room, but George stayed in the living room with the rest of the family. You could hear Molly grumbling to herself in the kitchen as you passed the door, but everyone else seemed to be far more cheerful gathered by the fire. 

You felt your heart jump to your throat when Fred closed the door behind him. You stood in the middle of room, trying to not feel awkward.

“Is this where you break up with me for accidentally insulting your mum?” you asked softly, looking at the ground. You knew George said he wouldn’t but the idea lingered in your mind.

“What are you talking about?” Fred breathed as he quickly moved to you and wrapped his arms around you tighter than George had. 

You couldn’t help it. You started crying again.

“Y/N, no. Not unless…” He pulled back to look you in the eyes. “Unless you want to?” There was so much hesitation and uncertainty in his voice. It broke your heart to hear him like that.

“No, I don’t want to. But your mum-”

“My mum still doesn’t know you meant it as a compliment.”

You rested your forehead on his shoulder. You took a deep breath to breathe in his scent. 

“She just needs to be ‘round you more, get to know you. Then she’ll love you like I do.”

Your eyes went wide against his shoulder. ‘Love you like I do.’ Had Fred just indirectly said he loved you? 

The way Fred stopped talking and stood more frigidly told you that he realized what he said after the words left his mouth. He was waiting for you to give him some kind of reaction. Was it too soon? 

After a moment, you lifted your head and you kissed him. You felt him relax underneath you. Of all your kisses, this was one of the most mild ones yet it was charged with so much emotion.

“I love you too,” you whispered as you broke the kiss.

He smiled at you before kissing you again. 

“You know, I was actually so nervous to bring you here.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Well, because it is a bit peculiar,” he teased. “No, really, I don’t talk about it much but we’re not… rolling in galleons per se. We make do. We get by. It’s just-”

“I don’t care about that, Fred,” you said, cutting him off before gently kissing his cheek. “It’s your home and your family and it’s all amazing. I’d rather be in a home filled with love and laughter than anything else.” 

“Once Mum comes to her senses, you won’t know what to do with all the love she can give,” Fred warned. 

“I can’t wait for that.”

Because I'm a petty bitch who hold grudges, I really see Molly not coming around until like Bill & Fleur's wedding or beyond, and Reader knows this so she just doesn't really visit the Burrow as much and Ginny is v upset that Reader isn't staying at the Burrow for the wedding and Reader is just like 'I'm not going to impose where I know I'm not wanted.'