#without going beyond it and losing the connection with readers of that community that is

[yeslordmyking]

Supernatural Spoonie Side Protagonist (sorry is that cringe...)

OK WRITING AND/OR CHRONICALLY ILL COMMUNITY! (why am I shouting? 🫢)

Please kindly repost or comment on this with analyses of how possible/impossible it would be for a teenage character with a (fictional) chronic illness to:

Go to school- mainly curious about absences/field trips/events like prom. Would homeschool be a better option than public school?

Work part-time- how understanding are employees and coworkers with someone not always well enough to get all their hours in?

Travel long distance- she's an international student living with an adult relative with American citizenship, and seeing a doctor who can help with her rare specific illness (oh yeah she can fly so... factor that into traveling somehow 😂 aaah I don't know what I'm doing!!!)

Fight monsters with superpowers- the character is trying to live a normal life in constant danger of another supernatural race trying to exterminate her own, (which is how she ended up sick btw.) With limited physical abilities, how does overexertion and moderate to severe injury work?

If you need more specifics about the character, feel free to ask me! I know the supernatural element complicates it, so I'm trying to figure out if it's doable and represent chronic illness as best as I can. Thank you so much in advance! 😁

[talesofesther]

what once was mine | ch 8

Loki x Reader

Series Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

A/N: Yes, this is long overdue and I'm sorry for the long wait; but now it's finally here and I hope you can enjoy it, we're nearing the end :'). If it's been too long since you've read the other chapters, I'd maybe recommend checking them out again because we're picking it up right where we left off. The next chapters will be posted soon <3. Also, Mobius plays cupid here and we love him for it lol.

Masterlist | Read ch 7 here

You kept your head down as you walked, not particularly looking at where you were going. Rogue tears were falling onto TVA's hallways with each step you took, a hand covered your mouth to stifle the sobs. The sight of your rapidly moving shoes became more unfocused by the second.

You needed an out, you needed to breathe. And you didn't care that the bathroom you rushed into was a communal one, you slammed the door shut behind you and turned the lock, praying that the stalls were empty.

Silence hung in the air, the only sound being your heavy breathing. Gulping back a massive lump in your throat, you leaned back against the closed door. The smooth wood was cold, feeling going past the fabric of your shirt and raising goosebumps on your skin. With the back of your hand, you tried drying your tears.

Would this be it? Were you truly broken beyond repair?

You wanted to shout apologies in the air; for the Loki you'd just found, he deserved it, he did nothing wrong; for yourself, for the bruised heart beating in your chest that you'd promised to mend.

Part of you also wanted to berate yourself for being overly sentimental and utterly incapable of processing your feelings. For being stuck in this limbo.

You pressed your palms to your eyes, feeling them dampening, fingers shaking.

His touch had been like a bonfire on a cold night—a strange metaphor, given the fact his skin was usually colder than yours; yet it held truth—it enveloped your heart in a warm and familiar embrace, the most blissful kind of pain. It hurt, you couldn't quite place why, but it did.

Maybe it was the fear of knowing you wouldn't be able to live through another loss.

There were telltales of a steady rhythm thudding beneath your skin and through your veins; the ghosts of it tickled your fingertips and called out your name. His heartbeat, as real as you'd pleaded for in countless sleepless nights.

And when you finally held it in your hands again…

'But you're not him.'

You regretted it, probably as soon as the words left your mouth. Because… they were a lie. A lie you told yourself for fear of losing him, again.

Yet now, you couldn't help but feel like you just did.

─── ·❆· ───

Thor had once told Loki about the red string of fate—when the god of thunder had been strangely obsessed with Midgardian folklore in his teenage years. A red string that connected soulmates, it could stretch and bend as the two souls drifted apart and then met again, however, it would never break.

Now, as Loki heard your steps getting further and further away from him, he couldn't help but hear a snap.

Maybe he was the one who fucked it up, maybe it was his fault. You weren't his to have or to lose anyway. As much as he wished you were.

Loki stood awkwardly by your desk; he felt almost as if he was invading just because this was your space and, as you'd just made abundantly clear, you wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

He took advantage of your secluded nook to brush off the tear tracks on his cheeks—he didn't need anyone asking questions he barely knew the answers to—before running a hand through his hair, straightening the collar of his jacket, and taking a deep, hopefully steadying, breath.

For the first time, he felt utterly lost, without a north to guide him. He stalled by neatly organizing the mess that was your desk, thinking maybe you'd have a change of heart and come back to him. He stacked documents, organized pencils, and even folded a cardigan of yours that was hanging on the back of your chair.

Loki stalled the longest he could, until there was nothing more to tidy and no hope left. When you didn't come back, he walked up to the elevator, and now stared at the many buttons without knowing which to press. Truth be told, his mind was miles away; focused on the feeling of your soft skin against his and the sweet perfume of your shampoo. Would he ever get to feel you so close again?

"Hold it, please," Mobius called from a few steps away, hurriedly walking towards Loki. The god extended a hand to hold the doors open for him.

Mobius skipped into the elevator with a big sigh, clutching a rather large stack of documents to his chest. "Thanks," he breathed, shooting a glance at Loki. A beat passed and he did a double take, with a frown as he looked Loki over, who still glared at the buttons in front of him, all puffy eyes and pouty lips. "… What happened?" Mobius' voice held the tone of someone who probably already knew the answer he'd get. He reached past Loki and pressed the button that led to the cafeteria—a coffee break couldn't hurt.

For long seconds, Loki kept silent, contemplating whether to lie or be honest. He felt too drained to come up with a lie. "I… believe I messed it up."

Mobius didn't need names. He raised a hand to pat Loki's shoulder. "She'll come around, buddy."

Loki's eyebrows softened, he had a faint, bittersweet smile on his lips as his eyes welled up with tears again. It stung, bitterly. Perhaps he was never destined for happy endings. It was okay, he decided, he'd be okay with loving you from afar; so long as he got to love you at all. He already counted his lucky stars that the slim odds were in his favor and he got to meet you. "I don't think she will."

The weight of his words didn't go unnoticed by Mobius, who turned to Loki with a rather bewildered expression. "You really do like her… Don't you?"

Loki lowered his head, lips parting in a futile attempt to try and word his feelings. All he managed was a defeated sigh as he brought a hand up to rub one of his eyes. That was answer enough.

─── ·❆· ───

It's been a week. Or at least what would be the equivalent of a week in the TVA. You didn't know if you were the one avoiding Loki or if he was the one avoiding you. But you haven't seen each other ever since you said those hurtful words to him.

Your spoon clicked against the ceramic of your mug, stirring a coffee that had probably already gone cold. You stared off into space, watching from a secluded corner table as a few of your colleagues walked by with their own coffees, yet not actually seeing it. Your mind was elsewhere, drifting between what-ifs.

It's been like this, for this past week. Your mind mostly numb, stuck on auto-pilot. You couldn't stop thinking about him, couldn't stop missing him; his presence had become such a constant in your life these past couple of months that now that you didn't have it, a part of you felt hollow and empty. There was always a vacant chair beside you that left you feeling perpetually cold and alone.

The last few nights had been more sleepless than not, guilt ate away at your insides and kept you from diving into deep slumber. You wondered if the few grimaced smiles you received from your colleagues today were because you'd forgotten to hide the faint dark circles under your eyes.

"Good morning sunshine," Mobius slid into the chair next to you, placing his steaming mug on the table along with a single donut on a small plate. He took a momentary glance at you and his smile dropped a tad, "or maybe not so good."

You tried giving your friend a decent smile but you could tell by the look on his face that it didn't reach your eyes.

"I'll probably regret asking," Mobius pulled his chair closer, taking a sip of his coffee before continuing, "but what's wrong?"

You've never liked it when people asked you that question, it made you wish that your problems really were simple enough to be put into words. You avoided his eyes, something akin to shame and timidness twisting your stomach. "I'm- I'm not sure," a frown came to your brows, as if you were finally seeing past the fog. You shook your head softly, "I think I messed up."

"So I keep hearing," Mobius sighed. It wasn't condescending, no; it just looked like he was in on a secret you didn't know.

"I'm just… I'm so scared, Mobius." There was a sway to your voice that wasn't there before, with your heart on your mouth beating as raw as the wound you'd carried for so long. "I'm-" You hesitated, words heavy as you closed your eyes briefly. "I'm scared, and I'm still so confused."

You could feel the familiar sting of tears building behind your eyes. "I've wanted him back for so long, and seeing him again like this, it just-" Your lips hovered, trembling. You felt a warm touch landing on one of your hands, reassuring. You squeezed Mobius' fingers in gratitude. "… Now I have memories with him that only I've lived, and part of me still doesn't know what to think, what to do. And if I ever were to lose him again, I- I don't think I could…"

With a gentle nod, Mobius took hold of both your hands, he spoke slowly, "I understand… Well, maybe I don't," he chuckled, and when a small and genuine smile crept onto your lips, a proud glint came to his eyes. "But don't you think that, sometimes, we complicate things too much?" He asked, voice tender and drowning out the increasing hustle and bustle of TVA's cafeteria.

"You got him back." Mobius gave your hands a gentle shake to accentuate his words, voice low yet dripping with hope and excitement; "Yeah, maybe he comes from a little before you two met, but it's still the same Loki." He tilted his head with a tight smile, urging you to take his words to heart. "The one thing you wanted ever since you got here, don't you see how lucky you are? Maybe you should just let yourself be happy about that for a change."

For long seconds that felt like hours, you stayed silent, only feeling the bruising beating of your heart against your ribs. The air left your lungs and you had trouble pulling it back in.

He was right, wasn't he?

Maybe you could allow yourself to be happy after all this time. Maybe you could finally go to where your heart had been trying to lead you to. Maybe you really did get a second chance.

Yet, like freefalling into a frozen lake, the last words you'd said to him came rushing back. "I hurt him, Mobius." You winced at the memory, at the desolate look that had painted Loki's eyes as soon as you uttered the words.

'But you're not him.'

Oh, you couldn't have been more wrong then. Because when he looks at you with that same shine to his gentle eyes that had captivated you since the first time you'd met him on the grounds of New Asgard, when his voice takes on that special tone that's kept for you only, when he touches you with the same delicacy you'd always known, when he has the same bashful smile, laughs at the same jokes, drinks the same tea. How could he not be your Loki?

"It was the last thing I wanted, and it happened, and now I- I don't know if there's a way back from-"

"Listen to me," Mobius cut you off before you could go downhill into a pity party, "he's miserable, okay?" He spoke matter-of-factly, to which you only raised your eyebrows. "I'm serious, you should've seen him this morning, looked like a kicked puppy. Trust me when I tell you you're hurting him more by staying away." He added with a smirk; "and you two are killing me with all this 'will they, won't they'."

A small laugh escaped you as you raised a hand to dry your eyes and squeezed Mobius' ones with the other in a gesture that you hoped conveyed the immense gratitude you felt for him.

You missed Loki. You missed him so much it felt like a part of your soul had been torn out.

"Do you have any idea of where he is right now?"

─── ·❆· ───

You stepped into the smoked glass doorway as if you were walking a tightrope that might snap at any second. You held your breath as you went through, eyes closed, and hands clammy.

A familiarity lay heavy in the cold and fresh air, it has brought you peace many times before. The frozen grass crunched beneath your feet and the rustling of leaves did little to drown out the loud beating of your heart. You didn't need to open your eyes to know where you were, but you did anyway.

The clearing was the same as it's always been, with a few trees on both of the far sides, a clean and starry night sky that adorned the beginnings of the spectacle that was the northern lights, and finally, the lonely wooden bench in the middle.

Loki sat on the far right side of the bench you once shared. The night was cold and he only wore a simple dress shirt, for a second you wondered if he was not cold, before remembering his origins.

The moment feelt intimate, precious. You wondered if he knew you were there and chose to stay silent, or if he was too lost in his own what-ifs. You wondered if he's missed you as much as you missed him.

Your feet were glued to the ground, you noticed. Hands closed tightly into fists and mouth dry. A part of you remained so afraid still, as if, now that you're here, it might be too late.

From afar, you admired how Loki's hair flowed effortlessly with the breeze, coming loose from behind his ears and making you wish to run your fingers through it. He had his left hand lying beside him, fingertips touching the wood of the bench; as if reaching for something, someone, who's not there.

You caught it then, how, with the corner of his eye, he finally noticed your presence. You caught it by how his shoulders immediately tensed up and he looked straight ahead as if bracing for something.

No turning back now. You took the first step towards him.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Ch 9 coming soon.

I no longer make taglists. You can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I've posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

[translationwala]

English to Tamil Translation: Your Gateway to Tamil Culture

Tamil, the language of ancient poetry, lively cinema, and a rich cultural legacy, invites you to discover its depths. However, for those inexperienced with the language, the path might seem difficult. Enter the miracle of English to Tamil translation, your gateway to discovering Tamil Nadu’s spirit.

Unveiling the Nuances: Beyond Words, Lies a Cultural Tapestry

Translating from English to Tamil is more than simply switching words; it is also about comprehending the cultural subtleties that are weaved throughout the language. Tamil idioms often include several levels of meaning, inspired by tradition, mythology, and a distinct way of seeing the world. A literal translation may overlook these nuanced hues, providing the reader with just a weak representation of the original text. An expert translator, on the other hand, is a cultural navigator who can detect hidden meanings and translate them in a way that is understandable to the Tamil audience.

Mastering the Melody: Music to Your Ears, Poetry in Your Heart

Tamil is a language that sings. Its rhythmic pattern and literary flair contribute to its charm. Translating a Tamil poetry into English without comprehending its musicality is like attempting to capture a hummingbird in a still shot. An experienced translation will not only understand the message, but will also dance to the beat, keeping the rhyme, meter, and substance of the poem in the target language. Imagine your favorite Tamil song being precisely translated into English, with the words flowing naturally while keeping the original’s emotional resonance and gripping your soul.

Humor Unbound: Laughter Bridges the Cultural Gap

Humor is a global language, although the subtleties differ widely among cultures. A Tamil joke, with its creative wordplay and cultural allusions, may confuse an English speaker. A professional translation, on the other hand, operates as a cultural interpreter, first comprehending the context and humor behind the joke and then figuring out how to duplicate it in English without losing its punch. Consider a Tamil film whose wit and humor are so well translated that the English audience laughs out loud, forming a bond through shared laughter and comprehension.

Bridging the Business Gap: Accuracy Matters in the Marketplace

English to Tamil translations go beyond literature and pleasure. Businesses in Tamil Nadu depend largely on correct communication to reach their intended audience. A contract, a marketing campaign, or even a product handbook that is translated with tiny errors might have major effects. An skilled translator who understands both English and Tamil business language and cultural etiquette ensures that your message is clear, succinct, and culturally suitable.

BEYOND WORDS: YOUR PERSONAL CONNECTION TO TAMIL CULTURE

English to Tamil translation is more than simply a service; it opens the door to a lively universe. A qualified translator can help you connect with relatives and friends in Tamil Nadu, read the works of great Tamil writers, and comprehend the culture around you. They can guide you through the complexity of the language, discern its hidden meanings, and appreciate its distinct beauty.

In conclusion

English to Tamil translation is more than simply a technical talent; it’s an art form, a cultural bridge, and an individual adventure. Choosing the correct translation is an investment in comprehension, connection, and, eventually, a greater respect for the rich tapestry of Tamil culture. So, take the risk, investigate the possibilities, and let English to Tamil translation be your portal to a world of surprise and joy.

Source: https://translationwala.wordpress.com/2024/01/16/english-to-tamil-translation-your-gateway-to-tamil-culture/

[pellucid-constellations]

A Million Reasons - One

Pairing: College!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, with all of his trust fund money and family connections, gets assigned community service. You, as someone that’s technically part of the community, now have to put up with him. Every day. And he won’t stop killing your plants.

Warnings: Bucky is the captain of this annoyance to lovers ship

Word Count: 3.7k

a/n: New series!! I’m super excited about this one :) Let me know what you think because I adore feedback ♡ 

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

~~

The greenhouse was always a touch too warm for your taste. Something about the fixed humidity made your shirt stick to your skin, even as the weather beyond the walls raged with a frigid chill. It made it difficult to appreciate the changing seasons when you found yourself inside with the plants more often than not. 

But it was hard to complain. If being sweaty meant you got to complete your senior research project at an ivy league, you would put up with the hassle. 

God, your senior research project. Your excitement was almost palpable each time you thought about the word. Every late night you had spent pouring over books—and every early morning you had spent examining plants instead of sleeping—was all going to be worth it. 

A degree from Yale would open so many doors you never thought available to you. Graduate schools, research labs, publications; a world of academia, all within your grasp. You just had to finish this last year of undergrad and get through your project. Eight months at most. 

You made your way to your notebook across the greenhouse, ducking beneath greenery and sidestepping planters as you went. There were about one too many broken watering cans in this specific house, along with more cobwebs than you could count, but you were grateful for any space at all. Being on a scholarship meant you expected less, even when your professors profusely argued against such a notion. 

The stool groaned as you took your place at the rickety table, pushing yourself in until it was more comfortable to write your notes. Your pencil was in dire need of a sharpening, and you almost wished you had brought your computer instead of the paper that was wilting in the sticky air of the greenhouse. Unfortunately, that was never an option; Professor Potts had made it abundantly clear that field notes were to be handwritten. 

A gentle spray started up in the corner of the room, water raining down on the plants as you placed the end of the pencil between your teeth. There wasn’t too much information for you to graph just yet; the project had just been approved a few weeks ago, and your plants were still sprouting up. Still, you took careful notice of each little change, not wanting to waste any of the resources you had been allotted. 

“So, uh,” a voice drawled, an awkward inflection in its tone. “You just want me to stand here, or…?” 

You raised your eyes from your notebook to instead glare at the wall your table was pushed up against, your peace interrupted for the second time today. Your jaw clicked as you fought to keep it relaxed, a battle you were surely going to lose as the morning progressed. 

“‘Cause I can’t really leave unless you give me something to do out there. Rules of community service and all. They have people making sure I spend my hours in here.” 

You sighed, finally looking over your shoulder at the man leaning against a table he shouldn’t be. “You can stay over there,” you concluded. “Just don’t… touch anything.” 

“Right,” he agreed, crossing his arms and kicking away from the table. 

His pressed shirt didn’t exactly fit in with the nature of the greenhouse, and it was certainly a contrast to your loose hoodie with the college emblem stamped on the front. You took note of his blinding white collar and decided that if he walked out of here without any dirt on it, he would be a lucky guy. That thought was fleeting; you had turned back to your notebook almost as soon as he settled against a wall. 

You were about halfway into your diagram when the man in the dress shirt spoke again. “It’s hot in here.” 

“It’s a greenhouse,” you deadpanned. 

“Greenhouses have a reputation for being hot?” 

You tapped your pencil against stiff paper, still not turning as you hummed and simply replied, “Typically.” 

The man mumbled something incoherent in response, apparently deciding that walking around the rows of plants was a better way to spend his time. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, biting the inside of your cheek when he rubbed a leaf between his fingers. It wasn’t your plant, technically, so no harm done—for now. You couldn’t say the same for his shoes; the shiny leather had surely been scuffed from the amount of times he had ran into old wood. 

You were still cursing Pepper Potts for agreeing to whatever this was. She had approached you with so much hesitancy the other day, an apology already on her lips that you assured her wasn’t necessary. But you were second guessing that as time went on… maybe you did deserve an apology when James Barnes was the one being forced upon you. 

Your professor had left out that small detail. 

To be fair, the detail had very little impact on your life. You had never met the guy before today, and it wasn’t as if he had done anything to you personally. But he was very clearly a Barnes, a name that was also displayed on the main campus library and probably stamped on quite a few “donated” collections. 

It would’ve been nice to know that it was a Yale legacy student serving community service in your greenhouse—not just some random guy with a penchant for misdemeanors. 

“Which plants are you in charge of?” he asked, running his hand under the gentle spray of water still going strong in the corner.

You furrowed your brows. “This isn’t some community garden. I’m not taking care of these plants, I’m studying them.” 

He made a slow approach to your table, stuffing his hands in expensive pockets. “Okay. Which plants are you in charge of studying?” 

“Why? Are you planning on defacing them?”

He scoffed, knocking his head back as if your statement was completely uncalled for. It wasn’t, of course. You had seen the proof of that yourself, the large, egregious pictures spray painted along the bricks of the Marsh Botanical Garden still only partially scrubbed off by the janitor. 

“Come on,” James argued. “That was funny. And you don’t even know why I did it.” 

You met his cocky smile with an uninterested expression. “I don’t think motive is going to help me find beauty in the dick you drew over the daisies.” 

“I get your favorite flowers or something? My bad, I’ll make it up to you,” he winked. 

“No need.” 

“Hey, I can buy you some daisies. I’m good for it.” 

You huffed, trying to decide whether or not that was a joke. Of course he was good for a few daisies—he probably had the means to sell out an entire flower shop, pre-made wedding centerpieces and all. And that would barely make a dent in his bank account. 

You pushed away from the desk instead of answering him, heading for the small shed by the entrance of the greenhouse. You yanked the doors open with a loud creak, procured another worn stool from the inside, and then set the seat in a corner very far from your desk. The slap you forced down on the stool’s surface echoed. 

“For you,” you explained, jutting your hand out in its direction. “Go on your phone or something.” 

He raised a brow at you, a small puff of laughter escaping him. He meandered to your designated location at an unhurried pace and nodded when you offered him a sardonic smile.  With a purposeful tug at the material of his pants, he took a seat, and you were back at your desk feeling more satisfied. 

Professor Potts had instructed you to put him to work the second he arrived. Sweeping, tossing old materials, dragging in soil; Barnes was supposed to be a garden hand to atone for his campus crimes, but in all honesty, you preferred him sitting in the corner on his phone. 

You figured he would prefer that as well, but the guy wouldn’t stop talking. 

“So you gonna tell me your name, Ms. Daisy?” he asked, after only a few minutes of blessed silence. “I have to be here every weekday for quite a while. Might be nice to know who you are.” He paused. When your silence persisted, he followed up with, “Unless you like daisy. ‘Could just call you that.” 

“It’s y/n,” you corrected. 

You could hear the smile in his words as he responded. “Okay, y/n. I’m—” 

“I know who you are. They gave me the rundown when they explained your community service,” you lied. He didn’t need to know that you had actually been blindsided when he walked in this morning. 

“Enlighten me then.” 

You almost choked on the confidence in his tone. “Is this some kind of power trip? You like to hear the sound of your own name, James?” 

His brows shot up in response, leaning his chest over his knees as he smirked at you from across the room. “Not sure why you’d assume I want a power trip.” 

If you could glower any harder, you would. Was it really so much to ask for a peaceful last year of college? Did the universe have to chose you to entertain the millionaire with a criminal streak when all you really wanted was to graduate? James started bouncing his knee, making the floor groan as he stared back at you, and you concluded that yes—the universe did in fact chose you for this fate. 

“Maybe because it’s eleven a.m. on a Tuesday and you look dressed for prom?” you shot back. 

He laughed. Throwing his head back with his shoulders shaking, he laughed and you were left confused because you were positive that you had just insulted him. Then again, you weren’t really sure what was considered an insult to someone with an endless stream of money. Maybe he wanted to look like he was going to prom. 

“You’re pretty funny, you know that?” he chuckled, the whispers of humor still fresh in his voice. 

“Thanks,” you accepted, a monotone grumble. 

You slid your phone from your pocket, praying that your allotted time with James was over and not attempting to be subtle about it. Luckily, the clock confirmed that he was actually set to leave three minutes ago, a small swell of joy rising in your chest. 

You shook your phone up by your face. “Eleven thirty-three,” you called. “You’re free to go.” 

Your happiness was not well met. James paused and gave you an uncharacteristically—from what you could discern in the few hours you’d know him—dubious look, standing from his seat and pulling a folded up piece of paper from his back pocket. He took a deep breath in before laying it flat on your table and letting his fingers linger. The mint from the gum he hadn’t stopped chewing fanned past you and hit unfinished plywood. 

“I know I didn’t really do anything,” he began. “But you gotta sign off on my time here—so I can take it back to the board and all.” 

“Okay,” you simply agreed, turning your pencil to the new sheet.

“You really aren’t gonna make me clean this place up?” His head titled down to catch the gaze you weren’t offering

“You’re free to clean up if you feel so inclined, but really, staying out of my way will get this paper signed.” 

“And you don’t… want anything from me?” 

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye before refolding the paper and placing it in his unexpecting hand. His expression was cautious, maybe even a bit untrusting with the way his mouth was twisted into a small frown. You knew what he was implying, but you weren’t going to acknowledge the elephant in the room if you could help it. 

The spray in the back of the house stopped. James shifted and the floor groaned. 

“Like what? A pocket square?”

James shook his head, face relaxing, and placed his palm on your table to bend down and loom over your seated posture, requesting a quick, “Hey, call me Bucky, yeah? James is my father.” 

“Whatever,” you called, waving him off before you could process the gentle heat of him on your back. 

Bucky’s chuckle lasted well past his exit, the sound only ceasing as he complained, “This door is broken.” 

You rolled your eyes, not turning to confirm when the heavy wood slammed behind him. 

~~

“I was thinking it had something to do with the soil, but when I brought that up to Professor Stark he told me to shut up.” 

“Peter, I don’t know why you even try with him. I keep telling you to go to the TA first.” 

Peter sighed, dejectedly picking at the salad wilting in its plastic container. He had been fighting with it after about the second bite, turning the leaves over as he complained about his final project. 

“It’s not fair that you got his wife as an advisor,” Peter accused, a finger pointed at you as you ate your own lunch. “She gets the job done and she thinks you’re amazing. Dr. Stark just thinks I’m an idiot on legs.” 

“Hey, come on!” you argued. “If he thought you were an idiot on legs he wouldn’t have accepted your proposal in the first place. And he gave you the best greenhouse on campus. Dr. Potts is nice, but I’m still stuck out there with all the spiders.” 

Peter huffed out a laugh, the sound lost in the noise of the dining hall. You were immune to the disruptions at this point; three years of lunches with Peter Parker and you were more than capable of picking his voice out in a crowd, dining hall or otherwise. 

The first time you had done so was in a packed lecture hall freshman year. The poor guy didn’t have a pencil in one of Stark’s lectures and he had asked just about everyone in his row. You saved him from the fearful task of asking the professor himself, tapping on his shoulder and, apparently, also becoming friends. 

It was luck that you happened to be in the same department as well. 

“That reminds me,” Peter said over a mouthful of croutons. “How’d your thing go with the criminal. Did he get those spiders out?” 

You laughed, setting down the coffee you had grabbed on the walk over. “He’s not a criminal, Pete. I told you it was just vandalism.” 

“Vandalism is a crime,” he pointed out, gesturing with his fork. 

“Okay, well it’s not a hard crime. I think labeling him as a criminal might be a bit premature. Not that a permanent record would have any real effect on his life, honestly.” 

“What d’you mean?” 

You gave Peter a blank look, urging him to swallow his food before you continued. There definitely wasn’t a lack of comfort between the two of you, if the mouthful of lettuce accompanying his words gave anything away. He offered you a sheepish grin and reached for his water, motioning for you to explain yourself. 

“I mean that the criminal is James Barnes. You know, like Barnes and Rogers’ Library? I seriously doubt a label like that would hurt his life prospects.” 

Peter choked on his water and you found yourself wishing he was still talking with his mouth full instead. You reached for the napkins on his tray, shoving them in his direction as he fought for air. He looked like a fish out of water and all you could do was cringe as the table next to you grimaced in disgust. It wasn’t until he recapped the bottle that you spoke again. 

“Are you going to live?” 

Peter hit his chest a few times before nodding with vigor. “Fine, yeah,” he squeaked out. “Are you sure it was him?” 

You threw him a look. “Do you think I’m an idiot on legs or something?” 

“No! No, of course not. Just, wow, a Barnes doing community service. Wouldn’t really expect that.” 

You hadn’t either. With the reputation that came with his name, you were surprised that his family hadn’t just made the problem go away with another big “donation” toward the library. Or the science department. Or just about any place that would have gotten him out of trouble.

You had seen it happen before. Last year, all the trees and bushes in front of the literature building were covered in paint and toilet paper during finals week. It was cleaned up rather quickly, and then—like clockwork—the Yale Newspaper reported a very sizable donation made toward the college’s book collection. An anonymous donation. 

Very discrete. 

Your shrugged at your friend, rolling your straw between the pieces of ice in your cup. “Maybe he was feeling generous.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Peter scoffed. “Look, I think you should stay away from him, y/n. I’ve heard… things and stuff.” 

“Things and stuff? Wow, Peter, why didn’t you tell me sooner? I’ll make sure to bring pepper spray next time I see him.” Peter clicked his tongue and gave you an exasperated look, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. You sighed, “Okay, okay. Sorry. Please, explain.” 

“It’s just—you know who he is. I don’t think you should try to be buddies with this guy or anything. Seems to make a lot of trouble at a school he didn’t really get into on his own merit. And I'm pretty sure he’s like engaged or something? Maybe, I don’t remember all of what Ned said...” 

For some strange, unknown reason—completely unfathomable—a tiny part of you deflated as Peter continued his rant. It certainly wasn’t because of the engagement; that would be certifiably insane. 

Bucky was entitled and probably only in college because his family made him go. He probably spent his days in some fancy apartment down the road and only came to campus when he felt like spray painting over the ecology department. He most likely had stupid handkerchiefs in his pockets and got his pants dry cleaned and said said things like oh, I’m going to have a nice game of golf this morning. 

He didn’t have the passion you did, and he certainly didn’t have the drive. It didn’t matter that he smelled like a fresh bonfire and the woods when you went camping in the winter. His stupid fluffy hair didn’t make up for his lack of common sense and his glinting blue eyes definitely didn’t make you want to blink up at him and fall into his words each time he spoke. 

His smile was just… average; it didn’t make your heart skip a beat at all, even when he called you daisy and came up behind you to make you sign that stupid paper. 

Maybe you were just feeling a bit morose because Peter was lecturing you again. Yes—that was it. “Peter! Peter, hey, I get it,” you cut him off, not even sure which part of his argument he had dove into as you let your mind wander. “It’s not like I’m hanging out with the guy on purpose. I’m not even making him clean anything. He just sits on his phone for a few hours and then he leaves, alright?” 

But Peter looked disgruntled at that prospect as well. “I think you should have him doing something, y/n. He’s supposed to be in trouble.” 

“Do you have a vendetta against this guy or something?” 

Peter blanched, clearing his throat and uttering out a few too many arguments for it to be believable. Your best friend was many things, but a good liar was not one of them. You arched a brow in his direction, trying to pull the truth from him, but Peter just kept babbling on about nonsense. Which was fine, you supposed; he could have secrets and so could you. 

Your secrets just involved maybe finding Bucky Barnes attractive. Maybe. On a physical level only.

You checked your phone when Peter pretending to drink his water, the only interesting notification being a message from your roommate asking you to bring pizza home for dinner. Which probably meant Natasha was coming over as well. That would be the perfect opportunity to tell both Wanda and Natasha about your new greenhouse development, and you wouldn’t even have to use the groupchat. 

You sent her a quick confirmation text and heaved yourself up from the table, Peter following closely behind. 

“You wanna come over for pizza tonight? You can tell the girls how much you hate Bucky Barnes,” you offered, tossing your empty cup in the garbage. 

“What’d you call him?” Peter asked, tightening the straps of his backpack and scrunching his face up in confusion. 

You mentally cursed, forcing out a fake laugh and linking your arm with Peter’s. The air past the dining hall doors was a brisk sunniness, a hint of summer still lingering in the fall air. You breathed in the faint aroma of the grass in the courtyard and the hint of pine from the tree that hung over the benches on the far side of campus, but Peter was unimpressed with your minuscule attempt at a diversion. He craned his neck to block your view of the yard, raising his brow in expectation. 

You nudged him. “Nothing, Pete. You wanna come or what? Better tell me now or I’m not going to know to pick up your favorite.” 

“Okay, yes,” he groaned, pulling you toward your next class. “But if you think we’re not gonna talk about this tonight, you’re wrong. I’m going to have a very serious discussion with Wanda and Natasha.” 

“Okay, Mr. Serious,” you rolled your eyes. 

Peter got wine drunk that night, which meant there was, in fact, no serious discussion. 

[nanowrimo]

3 Most Common Worldbuilding Mistakes for Writers and How to Fix Them

Every year, we’re lucky to have great sponsors for our nonprofit events. World Anvil, a 2021 NaNoWriMo sponsor, helps you develop and organize your characters, plot, and world setting. Today, World Anvil founder Janet Forbes is here to share some pro tips for worldbuilding. Don’t forget to check out the offer to NaNoWriMo writers for 30% off a World Anvil membership!

I talk to hundreds of writers every week, in our World Anvil Q&A live streams, our World Anvil writing challenges, and meetings with our professional authors. And mostly, they’re encountering the same few worldbuilding problems! Here are the 3 most common worldbuilding mistakes, and how you can fix them:

1. Mary-Sue Worldbuilding

You’re probably familiar with the Mary-Sue—a flawless, artificial-feeling main character. Mary Sue Worldbuilding follows in the same vein. If everything in your setting is directly related to your main character, it feels like the world revolves around them. It’s too convenient and artificial. That’s Mary-Sue worldbuilding.

Mary-Sue worldbuilding is usually caused by worldbuilding exclusively around your plot. Introducing larger-scale conflict in the backdrop of your setting, current affairs like civil or religious movements, war, disasters, or technological breakthroughs, can help expand the world beyond just your main character. 

Your main character might interact with these elements, or more usually, with problems caused by them. For example, they might help some refugees from “that war over there”. But your character should not be at the core of everything—they’re not the cause of the war. Other things are happening outside of your story, in the background. (Pro-tip: this is a great way to reinforce your genre and themes, and make your world feel alive and expansive, too!). 

Fixing Mary-Sue Worldbuilding Of course you’ll need a series bible like World Anvil to help you keep these current affairs organized, connect them together, and make sure you don’t lose your notes! Use World Anvil’s worldbuilding templates to get inspired for your big conflicts, and remember - you only need to write a few bullet points to start with! You can always expand more later (we’ll talk more about that in a moment).

World Anvil’s Worldbuilding Templates are custom-made by experts to help inspire and guide your creativity—and you can customize your own templates too!

2. Mosaic Worldbuilding

You know those computer game worlds where each area feels like a self-contained zone? Where the “desert” region and the “forest” region have no trade, communication, or overlap between them? That, in a nutshell, is Mosaic worldbuilding. It ruins suspension of disbelief, makes your novel setting feel false, and can pull your readers out of your story! 

Fixing Mosaic Worldbuilding

The best way to avoid Mosaic Worldbuilding is to make sure that you have a clear overview of your world early on, with each major region and concept penned out in just a sentence or two. That way, each region will feel like a connected aspect of your seamless setting, not a tile shoved on the side. 

On World Anvil, each world setting has a “Worldbuilding Meta” section to help you detail the 10,000 foot overview—the big stuff. And not just your physical world and its people, but your genre, your motivations, and your themes. This invaluable reference tool helps you expand your setting and add more detail, and will also help you sense-check what you’re adding!

Once you have a clear picture of your meta, and know the overview of your world, it’ll be easy to make use of cultural aspects like imports and travellers, cultural diasporas and geographical transition zones to make your world seem more connected and less artificially divided! And you’ll be able to do it without spending too much extra time worldbuilding. Which brings me to my final common worldbuilding mistake…

World Anvil’s Worldbuilding Meta tool helps you focus, streamline and sense-check your world setting! It’s full of guides to create an excellent overview for your worldbuilding project. This is the view mode of Manifold Sky by B.C.G. Wurth.

3. Worldbuilder’s Disease

Sounds nasty, right? Well, Worldbuilder’s Disease is a very common problem—a compulsion to continue worldbuilding things which aren’t actually useful. Here’s my favorite example—the “elven shoes”:

In your world you have elves. They wear shoes. So far, so good. Maybe there’s a plot-point where an imposter’s revealed because they’re wearing the wrong shoes. So you fill in a few details on your series bible. But if you find yourself writing a 5,000 word treatise on elven shoes through the ages… honey, you have worldbuilder’s disease.

I use shoes as an example, but it could be anything. It might be detailing three centuries of monarchy, or expanding unvisited areas in excruciating detail. Sure, it can be fun, but all that time spent on unnecessary parts of your setting isn’t helping you polish the core parts—or get your novel written! It’s distracting you from your primary goal. 

Curing Worldbuilder’s Disease

There are three major causes of worldbuilders disease: 

Lack of perspective

Lovers of prose

Fear of losing your ideas

1. Lack of perspective

Lack of perspective can often lead down a worldbuilding rabbit hole. Keep clarity on what’s important in your setting with tools like World Anvil’s Worldbuilding Meta. This helps you define your active worldbuilding area - not just geographical but thematic areas—which helps  streamline your world and your project, so you can be sure you’re spending your time where it counts!

Also, be clear with yourself WHY you’re worldbuilding the element you’re working on. Keep clear notes in your series bible about how this new element fits into your novel. If it’s little more than set dressing, you only need a few words. For a core concept, you might need more.

2. Lovers of Prose

As writers, we love to write (duh)! But for most of us, writing in prose in our series bible can cause serious problems. Not only does it mean that you write MORE than we should (your get in flow, words happen!), it’s also harder to reference your ideas quickly later on. Stick to short, organized articles in note form. Make sure the salient information is there, and link in anything relevant. You can always expand to prose later if you need to.

Keep your series bible in brief notes with clear headers! This character article took 5 minutes using World Anvil’s character template which automatically adds the headers. The linked articles help me easily reference related people and places as I’m writing.

3. Fear of losing our ideas

Fear of losing our ideas is actually one of the most common reasons for worldbuilder’s disease—that we’ll forget or lose our notes if we don’t write them out in vast detail. To combat this, make sure you have somewhere to keep your world details safe, organized, tagged and searchable. Then you can reassure yourself that you can go back and develop more later if you need it. 

Obviously, World Anvil is custom made for this, backing up everything in one place and linking everything together, so you can easily search, reference and update your series bible whilst writing your manuscript and not have to worry about losing things!

Anything here ring true for you? Or maybe you’re struggling with another worldbuilding mistake or problem? You can always hop into our live streamed Q&A sessions on our Twitch channel and ask us directly! We go live three times a week to answer questions about writing and worldbuilding, as well as helping our community with World Anvil queries too! Maybe we’ll see you there. And happy worldbuilding :)

Janet Forbes is a published fantasy author and RPG writer, whose recent credits include the Dark Crystal RPG with the Henson Company (coming 2021). In 2017, she and her husband created World Anvil, the ultimate worldbuilding and novel writing platform. World Anvil helps you organize, store and develop your worldbuilding and series bible privately, and market your books to the world too! The inbuilt novel writing software, accessible from anywhere, integrates seamlessly with your worldbuilding. And when it’s time to publish, you can export, or publish directly on the World Anvil platform and monetize YOUR way! Check it out at World Anvil.

[bontenten]

Sleeping Beauty

Pairing: Shirabu x f!reader WC: 5.6k Genre/Warnings: smut, fairy tale retelling, incest, dubcon/noncon, drugs (sleeping pill), somnophilia, abusive past relationship, implied rape (not Shirabu), panic attack, victim-blaming, hero-complex with a bit of god-complex, hints of yandere, uhh medical malpractice, Shirabu’s bangs

Summary: The real story of Sleeping Beauty is anything but beautiful. Shirabu will do everything he can to keep you in a safe haven where you can freely dance with your prince once upon a dream.

A/N: This is a part of the whorehouse intoxicated collaboration, rest of the pieces of this toxic journey can be found here! Thank you Ria and Angel for helping beta <3 Love you both so much.

Unofficial bgm: Once Upon a Dream & Once Upon a December 

"You'll never wash me from you," he sneers, pulling you back by a handful of hair. You feel a blanket of pain shoot across your scalp. "You'll never really get away. Time to wake the fuck up."

"G-get away from me!" 

You thrash and kick your legs wildly hoping something will land. The moment you hear a pained grunt and feel his grip loosen, you scramble up to your feet and run. Your shoes grate against wet cement as you take off. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you will your legs forward one after another. The caw of birds seem to act as a beacon leading you through the twists and turns of the terrain.

A left turn here, two blocks straight. Past the corner store and beyond the stoplight. Three blocks. Right turn. Two Blocks. Five steps away. Four...Three..Two...Safety...

----

"In the forest, the princess played with a lot of animal friends. She grew up there in the cottage with three fairies looking after her."

Thunder claps and lightning strikes outside.

"It's so loud Kenjirou-nii!" you cry, burying yourself into Shirabu's arms.

"Shh, I'm here," Shirabu coos, rocking you back and forth until your sobs subside. "One day, the princess was singing with the songbirds..."

Shirabu begins to recount the fairytale of Sleeping Beauty to you, slowly easing your mind away from the turbulence outside.

"Do you think you can sleep now?"

You shake your head and jump again when the thunder claps over the roof of the house.

"It's okay, I'm right here. Big brother’s always going to protect you."

"Like the prince protecting the princess?"

"Yes, exactly. You're always my princess, now go to sleep. I'll wake you when the sun's up.”

After a while, you calm down and slowly drift into sleep with your breaths evening out. Shirabu pulls the covers over both of you and enters sleep as well.

The winds continued to howl outside the window...the branches tapping...tapping against the window...tap...tapping…

----

Shirabu Kenjirou opens his eyes. He had just fallen asleep while studying for the third time that night. There is no use staying at the library if he is going to treat it as a hotel; he’ll be better off going home first. He yawns and stretches his neck, then packs his bags to return to his apartment. There are few students left in the building at this ungodly hour. Dark clouds loom overhead and the air is filled with the pitter patter of autumn rain hitting cement. Shirabu zips up his coat, opens his umbrella, and walks into the dark.

You would have been so frightened by this sort of weather, whimpering under your blankets, counting sheep with shaky breaths. Just like how you did in that dream of his earlier.

While growing up, Shirabu hadn't cared all that much about anything else considering he spent most of his time with his studies or playing volleyball. Although there was you, his little sister, he figured you had your little bubble anyway. But on a stormy night, you teetered down the hall after finding your parent’s room locked. Afraid and sleepy, you looked for comfort elsewhere and arrived at Shirabu’s room.

Shirabu had been most irritated and decided to shoo you out with strings of curses and profanities, but he couldn’t. The sight of your form huddled right outside his bedroom, with young eyes pleading for him took hold of a bit of humanity in Shirabu’s heart. So, he let you into his room, a safe haven, and eventually a world that was composed of only the two of you against the rest of the world.

Shirabu has known for a long time that you are the most brilliant, precious, and purest thing he’ll ever encounter. Always perfect. Forever unsullied. 

There are many things that Shirabu wants to shield you from. If he can secure one more hour of innocence, one more day, one lifetime, he’ll do so without a moment of hesitation. The real world is unlike the fairy tales that you hear about while growing up. 

The real story of Sleeping Beauty is anything but beautiful. There isn’t a handsome prince the princess meets in a forest. No color changing cake. No kiss of love. In the real story, the princess is put into an endless slumber and has her virginal body taken by some unknown beast of a king, used like a rag for his carnal pleasure. When he leaves, the sleeping girl is then forgotten like trampled daisies under the hooves of horses. And she will wake to find her womb bulged with bastard life as a result of the damnation. The stretches clawing around the navel as permanent reminders that nothing will wash him from her.

The real world is dark. Horrible. Wretched. Dirty. Filled with suffering. That is why he, Shirabu Kenjirou, responds to the call to action and enters a life of service. In his heart he yearns to save and help, even if just a little, by becoming a prince with a white coat. He will not give up trying to salvage pieces of humanity he’ll touch, and in the process, carve out a haven, a little forest with a cottage, for his dearest sister to safely live in.

It has been a while since he last heard from you. Partly his own fault, really. Ever since Shirabu entered university and then medical school, the number of times you two would meet up dwindled. The hours on the phone became texts and soon after, communication vanished into mostly silence.

You are in university now, grown up and stepping into the real world, but that doesn't mean you are no longer his little sister. And because you are the one and only, Shirabu feels that he should try to do a better job as an older brother and check-in with you to see how you are doing. So, Shirabu takes out his phone that’s still on silent after studying.

27 missed calls from Sister 

Shirabu pauses in his tracks and returns the call. Cars zoom by on the streets while he waits for the line to connect. 

He was right, you must have been frightened.

The first call doesn’t connect, so Shirabu immediately tries the second time. You pick up on the third attempt.

"It's me, I'm so sorry I didn't pick up earlier."

"K-Kenjirou-nii..." your voice weakly translates over the speaker. 

Shirabu presses the phone closer to his ear and turns up the volume. "Where are you now," he demands. "At school?"

"...Your place..." Your voice sounds so dangerously faded, like petals beaten to the ground from the rain.

Shirabu bolts. His apartment is just a couple blocks away. Around the corner just up ahead. Shirabu makes a sharp turn and splashes through a puddle. 

"Stay...on the phone with me," he urges, paying no mind to his soaked shoes and socks.

You nod in understanding, as if he’ll hear your action.

"I'm almost there okay, almost."

Shirabu isn’t lying. A few moments later you hear the frantic footsteps coming closer to you. The stomping noises make your skin crawl, but the familiar face of your brother melts those fears away. He appears with his wet bangs stuck to his face and his shoulders heaving up and down. It’s him, your niichan, your prince finally here.

You scramble up and dive into his open arms, in relief that you are safe at last, as you finally allow tears to mix with rain.

"I was so scared. I missed you so much, Kenjirou-niichan," you sob into Shirabu's wet coat. "Where were you, where were you?"

"I'm sorry. I'm here now, I'm sorry," Shirabu apologizes, "Let's go inside first, alright? We’re both drenched.”

----

Under the bright lights of the living room, Shirabu gets a better look at you. You catch his discerning eyes studying you up and down, visually tracing the markers of your demise. That’s when you crack.

“Kenjirou-nii...the real world, the world is a horrible place. I trusted him, you know? I trusted that man.”

Foolish and stupid, Shirabu wants to say. It’ll be easy to simply yell at you.

Shirabu is not someone without a temper. He was quite known for it back in his high-school days. The bruises, the scars that did not heal well. Shirabu reminds himself to keep his composure, especially in front of you. He’s to be a doctor. He’s to be a protector, a savior. And with the training he already has so far, Shirabu knows he’s already as good as any board certified, licensed white-robed saint. He just needs to do what he’s meant to do. Heal. Clean. Purify.

After listening to your brief tale, Shirabu tells you not to worry about anything else tonight other than take a hot shower and get some rest. He gives you a reassuring smile and sends you off to the bathroom with towels and a large t-shirt.

While you wash-up and lose your thoughts piecing together the messy events of the night, Shirabu paces in the living room after he changes his own wet clothes. Nevermind the medical books he still needs to pour over, all Shirabu wants to do right now is track down the culprit and stick a scalpel through his socket. No, that’s just too easy. That bastard deserves something much more horrible, a slow and patient torture, a death within grasp but just out of reach. As if agreeing with Shirabu’s thoughts, your phone on the coffee table lights up. Shirabu picks up the device and watches the notifications pop-up.

Shirabu sees an unknown number call you. He doesn’t pick up, letting the phone ring while he reads the numbers across the screen and commits them to memory. The phone calls stop and an onslaught of texts follow; some coherent and others far from decipherable. There are messages of broken apologies and confessions of persistent love. Requests for you to go back to him. Shirabu scoffs at the language.

Shirabu continues to wait with impassive eyes, but the tight death grip around the device gives away the boiling rage beneath his skin. How dare the man behind that accursed number treat you, his little sister and princess, in such a foul manner. This beast who stole from you. Who is the reason behind the tainting of your now sullied innocence. 

Finally after a few minutes of silence, the screen lights up with a series of curses and condemnation that show the man’s true colors. A morphed beast due to your lack of response. Shirabu scrolls through the list of notifications again with impassive eyes, but the tight death grip around the device gives away the boiling rage beneath his skin. 

"You will pay," Shirabu seethes, taking a knife from the kitchen and ramming the sharp end straight into the device glass. The phone buzzes desperately and goes dark. You have no use for that phone anymore after all of this anyway, and the cursed number is already memorized by Shirabu for his own purposes.

----

Shirabu’s room is tidy. The two bookshelves on either side of the table are filled with books, photos, and many other accolades. That’s your older brother alright: perfect, proper, always right. Always right about everything, except one thing. The world you know really isn’t the wonderland he told you about growing up. Not at all. 

You bury your face into Shirabu's pillows and will yourself to sleep. You are safe here in his bed. It’s a haven...safely tucked in a forest. You are in a forest. The trees and the breeze. Songbirds are singing. 

You can dance here, twirl about...safe...free…

The trees melt.

Birds squawk and screech, scampering away…

Ink engulfs you....swallowing you whole

Falling...falling…

"You'll never wash me from you," he sneers. "You'll never really get away. Time to wake the fuck up."

NO! you try to scream. You can’t, the weight on your chest sinks you deeper, only silence is uttered...choked…

Wake up.

Wake up.

"Wake up!"

Your eyes fly open and you see him. Him. A blood curdling shriek finally tears through your throat and you thrash. "Getawaygetawaygetaway! NO!"

"It's me, hey, it's me. You're okay, you're safe." Shirabu’s eyes widen with worry at your outburst, but gives you ample space to breathe and compose yourself.

This familiar voice. It does not belong to him. It’s definitely not him.

"...Kenjirou-nii?" you ask quietly. The shadow is backlit from light coming in through the door and your vision is still fuzzy from the nightmare.

A tender hand closes around yours. "Shhh, it's okay, you're okay now. It was a bad dream, you're safe. You're safe. I'm here."

Cold sweat runs down your temples. Your breath is fast and shallow.

"Follow me, okay. Breathe in..." Shirabu takes a deep breath. You follow his voice and movement as if they are lanterns guiding you through a maze. "And breathe out. Good, you're doing great. Breathe in...and out..."

You feel your mind slowly beginning to clear with each inhale and exhale. Finally, you see Shirabu clearly again. You can smell the scent of his body wash from him. The texture of the blanket rubs against your fingertips. You’re here in Shirabu’s room. Safety. Haven. 

"I'll be right back," Shirabu tells you, before leaving you for a moment and going towards the bathroom. He opens the medicine cabinet, pops out a few white pills from a box.

"Here," he says holding out the small tablets in the middle of his palm. The off-white seems to almost glow in the dark.

"It's zolpidem, a sleeping pill I sometimes take for insomnia. It'll help you for tonight, and then we'll get you something else tomorrow that'll work better."

You look at the pill and then at Shirabu. Shirabu is someone you love and trust with all your heart. His embrace is your anchor and haven when the rest of the world has turned a blind eye. He’s your brother. One and only. There’s no reason not to trust him.

"I won't see him will I?"

"No," Shirabu affirms. The pills don't really manipulate dreams, but if reassuring you can placebo sweet dreams, then what harm really is there? He didn’t pass Ethics with top marks for nothing.

Shirabu gently presses the pill body against your lips and you part them, allowing the small object to slip through. He feeds another and you open your mouth obediently. You look at Shirabu’s eyes which are fixated on the way your lips wrap around his three fingers.  Kenjirou-nii’s lashes are so nice and pretty, you think. 

One gulp of water later, and you feel nothing but a cold sensation traveling down your throat and disappearing into your belly.

"It'll take about half an hour, I'll stay with you until you fall asleep," Shirabu says. He supports your back and gently lowers you back into the comforts of the plush mattress. Shirabu will surely carry the same attentiveness and care when he becomes a full-fledged doctor. You are sure of it. The big brother you grew up with has truly grown up and matured. But no matter how much he changes or how much you mess up, he’ll always be your big brother.

"Can you lie down next to me again, like when we were young?"

An innocent request from a patient-in-need. Shirabu complies and lies down next to you.

"I remember when we were young, I would make you dance with me to live out my princess dreams. You remember?”

Afternoons next to the stereo, crayons scattered on the floor. The smell of something baking in the kitchen. Shrieks and laughter in the living room. Even though Shirabu would be mildly annoyed at first, he found humoring your imagination to be a pleasant and soothing experience. Even he was sometimes whisked away from textbooks into a magical forest that was just you and him. The stress and burdens of everything else all seem so much lighter on his shoulders when you’re simply just there.

"Of course I remember, silly."

You hum softly and continue waiting for the medicine in your bloodstream to make its way through your body.

"Do you...remember the sleeping beauty story you would always tell me?"

"Yea?"

You pause for a moment before quietly asking, "Kenjirou-niichan, why did you lie to me?"

Shirabu does not respond and only glances over at you, eyeing your closed lids. Closed though they may be, the tiny beads of glimmering tears are beginning to emerge from between the lashes and trail down your cheeks.

"There is no prince, Kenjirou-nii...no prince for me, no one...niichan...," you mumble between your breaths. The drug is starting to take its effect, ushering your mind into another dimension far away from hurt and pain. It swallows you like a pit of ink, sinking you deeper and deeper...

----

Kenjirou-nii, why did you lie? Earlier, Shirabu felt his breath hitch when you asked that. 

He calls out your name softly, brushing over your cheeks, and listening to your soft breathing for a good while to make sure you are in fact asleep. At long last, maybe this is a good dream.

A lie? No! Not a lie, Shirabu wants to tell you. For you, his dearest sister, who only ever deserves happiness, in the rawest and truest form. You are supposed to have a life of others giving gifts of love, never having to offer anything of your own.

Shirabu feels his blood boil once more at the thought of that man who stole your innocence away. The one who took your body for his own carnal pleasures. The one who dared to steal you from him, Shirabu Kenjirou. If Shirabu's nails are not kept in immaculate condition for his profession, no doubt, his grip would be drawing blood from his palms.

Those marks and scars across your skin. Shirabu traces his finger down your neckline and along your arms...

Your head turns from left to right and you manage to shrug the big collar of the t-shirt off your shoulder. Shirabu can see, under the glow of moonlight from the cleared night sky, a nasty mark. A permanent mark. And before he realizes it, his fingers are already traveling over, tracing along and testing out the patterns and bumps.

Shirabu feels his chest burn beyond the anger and fury. Guilt. Where was he all this time when you were suffering? Why hadn't you just called him then? Anguishing thoughts of his little sister writhing in pain under that beast's grasps tear Shirabu apart. Did you cry? Were you scared? All these years studying for what? For what noble purpose is Shirabu trying to pursue if he can’t even save those closest to him?

Shirabu continues to search for any other marks or discolorations that are splayed across your skin like a map. It is what it is now. But Shirabu still has his calling. He is a man who answers to a life of service and healing: a prince in a white coat. No matter what happens, even if you’re tainted now, you’ll still be his little sister.

Even if your naivety and stupidity got you into the mess in the first place. Of course, why didn’t you listen to your brother’s warnings and stay in a safe haven like a good girl? Stay in your room and study for your future like a good student? Like him? Why did you think running off for fun, enjoying “youth and freedom” like the other degenerates would be a good idea?

Shirabu grits his teeth. Look at you now, damaged and past the point of no return, used. Injured and ill. Still, he needs to get the full story first, and see where else you might possibly be hurt. A complete diagnosis needs to come first. After the messages from the man, Shirabu is all the more certain that there are more clues left, and he needs evidence. He needs to know. The comforter is pulled away and careful hands examine the lines of your palms.

Once upon a time, you grabbed Shirabu’s hand and tried to use the methods of schoolyard palm-reading on him. You even exclaimed, “Kenjirou-niichan, this line means you’ll live a long life! And we can be together forever because my life line is really long too!”

Shirabu smiles at the memory and presses a kiss to the center of your palm. It must have been so painful, how could you have possibly endured? But you did and you survived. You are so brave. 

Probing fingertips trace across your collarbone and push the fabric of the large t-shirt up to reveal your torso. Shirabu blinks, realizing that this is now the body of a fully matured woman. You take a deep breath in your sleep from the cold air running across your exposed breasts. Shirabu can see the nipples perk up from the chill and hesitantly touches the bud with a hint of academic curiosity.

“Mmm, that tickles...” you giggle softly. Your hand pushes Shirabu's off and scratches the same spot he just traced, fondling your own breast briefly before letting go and continuing to sleep. Even grown up now, still the same adorable little sister.

Shirabu lets himself tease your nipples and knead the soft flesh of your breasts, toying around and watching your cute little expressions. Sometimes you’ll respond again and paw the tickling hands away. It’s fun, like playing a little game.

But when he lets his eyes wander down, Shirabu’s eyes narrow. Below the breasts, on either side of the waist, Shirabu sees damning marks of deep purple turning into a disgusting yellow. Like cursed claw marks. Shirabu hesitantly presses on the bruise, watching the color transform under his touch. He stops immediately when you begin to whine in pain. Carefully, Shirabu presses a kiss on these markings too, just like any other little injury you sustained in the past. A kiss so the pain flies away.

Foolish, foolish girl. Naive princess. Why did you let this happen to yourself? In the future, don’t run anymore. Stay here where it’s safe. 

There is just one place left Shirabu did not examine yet, a hidden spot that is supposed to be locked away that someone else discovered. Shirabu looks down at the dark lace panties obstructing his view like gates of a castle. It’s a poor “keep out” message; if anything it entices anyone who sees it to come in. A tempting invitation to see what’s behind.

Shirabu allows his clean fingers to easily slip through and begin a thorough investigation through the soft folds of flesh. His fingertips dip into a pool of wetness. He furrows his brows. When did this happen? 

Why are you wet? His eyes focus on your sleeping face that still has a relaxed smile. What are you dreaming about that makes your body like this? Shirabu drags the fingers covered with your slick to circle your clit. In response your thighs clamp and twitch. So sensitive, still inexperienced, even if you’re sullied. 

Shirabu slides the soaked panties off and pushes your thighs apart so he can continue his examination. That person must have touched this area too, his fingers have been here, and then…plunged his fingers into you like so. Your body trembles as Shirabu’s two fingers probe in, fully examining your inner anatomy. Soft, warm muscles clamp tightly around his digits and try to stop them from entering further. It’s for your good and his knowledge. He pushes deeper into you, dragging alongside the bumps and ridges of your walls.

You whine loudly and arch your back when Shirabu’s fingers find a sweet spot. Your head shifts on the fluffy pillows.

“Did you like that? Did that feel good?” Shirabu asks, probing your hole once more. As if in agreement, your body twitches again and your hips automatically roll against the palm, pressing your sensitive clit into the surface. Your breathy sighs are soft and sweet, unlike any other sound Shirabu has heard from you. It’s like a spell that enchants Shirabu and beckons for him. He shudders as he feels his cock responding to each noise coming out from between your lips.

It’s good, something feels so good. Under the sunlight, you feel warmth pooling throughout your body. There are tingles in the soles of your feet, like grass tickling skin while running around barefoot. Your body feels so light and relaxed. It’s warm and you’re not in this forest alone. The shape of a prince appears. You know he’s a prince because his voice is gentle and his touch feels safe.

If this feels good, it’s only because this is an act of love. If this makes you happy, it’s because it’s love. If it’s love, it’ll fill the empty pools of hurt. And if you’ll be whole again, you’ll heal. Shirabu makes up his mind and caresses your cheeks tenderly, So beautiful. Always beautiful. A sleeping beauty. His hand reaches to the waistband of his pants.

The prince rests his hand on your hips and excitement jolts through your body. You wrap your arms around his neck and smile back.

Shirabu freezes the moment he feels your arms wave into the air and reach for him. The sneaky fingers run across his skin.

"Dance..with me," you slur before falling back into silence.

The alarm washes away when he confirms you are still sound asleep.

"Are you dreaming of your prince?" Shirabu asks while tearing open a condom packet. Medical safety. He should have worn gloves earlier too, if he wasn’t already too entranced. "Dancing? Then I'll dance with you."

Forever. I'll be your prince, my sweet darling.

Shirabu runs the length of his hardened cock along your glistening slit. Rather than take, rather than pillage and steal...Shirabu will give. Replace the gross markers of pain with soft fleeting kisses. Replace the innocence stolen with love given unconditionally. Shirabu will give you all the love you deserve and more.

Shirabu’s fingers weave into your delicate ones, the palms join together, and your fingertips automatically lock with your niichan’s. It’s the starting position for a waltz in the forest, once upon a dream.

The man takes the initiation, the leading step. Shirabu closes the gap, sinking his length into your sweet embrace in a fluid and wet squelch. You respond, digging your nails and tightening your grip on his hands. Your other arm hugs around your partner, your niichan, pulling his body close against yours. Your blank eyes flutter open briefly to look straight at the shadow of Shirabu. Of course, you don’t see anything, you’re actually in a warm forest shyly gazing at your prince. Shirabu almost thinks that he woke you up, but you only let out a quiet moan before your body relaxes again.  

Shirabu groans and rests his cock in your warm and tight embrace. This is the way it should be, how it ought to be done. No one else can lead you in this dance the way he can. The way he will. This is not the self-fulfilling king stealing the princess’s virginal body for his own pleasure. This is the loving prince who loves and gives selflessly. Your big brother knows you the best, knows how you’ll respond, knows how you’ll like it. Shirabu slowly draws himself out and thrusts back in.

The prince presses himself so close to you, and you inhale sharply. During the waltz, you always have to maintain body contact with your partner. You feel his breath on your cheeks, and you’re sure he can feel your hammering heartbeat. The intimacy builds in the tender but secure hold. The steps are quick but the movements are not violent. It’s just enough that the heat stirring in your core spreads throughout your body.

Breaths become more labored and raspy into the act. Shirabu sees your face morph into bliss as he continues his pace and rocks his hips into you. His own brows furrow as Shirabu feels his grip over rationality falling apart with each thrust. Each flutter of your walls against him only invites him to come in deeper, farther. Harder. 

“...K-Kenjirou-nii...,” you softly cry out.

Your honeyed voice is a thick syrup trapping Shirabu, coaxing him. It’s like a melody inviting a weary traveler, a lost prince, in for rest. Your voice, your body, it’s tantalizing.

"Too good," Shirabu groans to himself. Why is it so good? You, his little sister, how? He looks down towards where he sees his cock, covered with your fluids, disappear into you. The thin latex barrier doesn’t stop how close the two of you are, Shirabu feels each clench and spasm around him. “My little sister, I didn’t know…” 

Shirabu can now understand just why that man did all that to you. Why that man wants to keep you by his side. Why he incessantly sends messages and tries to manipulate you back into their world.

It’s the only explanation, really, when you don’t even know how bewitching your body is. How enticing your voice is. Anyone would want to keep it as their own. Your warmth, your sweet, sweet hole. This cunt of yours is itself a safe haven. And Shirabu feels like he’s the one being made whole from you. It’s all because of you.

Each moan from you. Those gentle mewling cries, a witch’s spell, an incantation for addiction. That man is trying to manipulate you? How? When your whole existence manipulates everyone first, drawing them all in with the image of your unsullied purity.

Shirabu feels his impending release around the edge. His pace quickens and his thrusts meet with each of your twisting squirms. Your head tosses side-to-side on the pillow as your sleepy climax washes through.

Spin. Faster and faster in the forested ballroom. Twirl for the finale. You feel a dizzying jolt as the prince dips your body back. It’s a whirlwind of love. In your dream, the sunshine is so warm and growing so much hotter. It feels like you’re floating. So light and free. That prickling tickle in your feet is growing stronger until little fireworks set off across every corner of your body, filling you completely. The forest melts as the colors blend together in a dreamy painting. 

Euphoria, as Shirabu finishes spectacularly, clutching your sleeping body close to him in a messy ending pose. The final winds of the dead storm outside sound like a rumbling applause for this sinful waltz. He can hear his own pants and your shaky breaths mix into a fading duet. Shirabu lets himself bask for a moment, resting, entangled with you.

Everything makes sense now. He completely understands why the bastard king forces himself onto Sleeping Beauty. He completely understands why your allure is much too exquisite to pass on. Shirabu pulls out and carefully removes the condom, collecting the white essence you bewitched out from him into a little package with a tie. Dangerous little princess, that you are.

Even though Shirabu now fully understands the complete story after careful examination, there are still a few lines Shirabu will draw. One, that man has still committed a very grave sin, being the first to sample your purity, stealing that away from Shirabu? Damaging your flesh and skin? Unacceptable, he thinks as he tosses the used condom into the waste bin. A complete low-life who doesn’t know how to cherish. Punishment will be due.

Shirabu returns to the bed where your unconscious body is still sprawled between bunched sheets. His blank eyes study your spread legs and puffy cunt that’s still quivering every now and then. He taps his index finger against your sensitive clit. As if it is a magic button, your body briefly trembles on command. As if you are ready to enchant another unsuspecting traveler into your safe little haven. A little bit of fluid leaks out from your hole, presenting itself seductively. Welcome. 

Shirabu scoffs. And number two, you’ll be better off staying here with himself, your big brother. You’ll be safe here with a prince who knows best how to love you right, and give you the world. This is the way it should be; before you completely lose yourself into degeneracy and invite just about anyone into you. 

Those sleeping pills will be insufficient for the long-run. A different concoction while you are still healing from your terrible trauma will be needed. A cocktail of sorts that will target different needs. Yes. Shirabu files that thought away, putting it towards the top of his to-do list. There’s so many things he has to take care of. Too much pain in this world waiting for him to don white robes and be out there.

“But you’ll always come first on niichan’s list,” Shirabu whispers, slipping your panties back on and pulling the comforters over your body. He’ll never allow you to be sullied again. You’ll stay here in this safe haven, like a little cottage tucked away in the forest. Dream here. Find happiness with the only prince you need.

The first rays of dawn begin to brighten the sky, shooing away the cloak of night. The first songs from the birds announce the arrival of a new day. The morning light filters through the windows of the room, spilling over onto the bed and your quiet, unmoving form.

Time to wake up now, sleeping beauty.

[junko-and-riri-domain]

˚₊·˚ “babes” | ot7 ˚₊·˚

↬ pairing: ot7 x reader ↬ genre: fluff | drabbles | scenarios  ↬ warnings: none ↬ w/c: 1.3k ↬ requested by: 🤍 ↬ request was: Hihii I was wondering if you could do enhypens reaction to calling them things like baby or my love in your native language (excluding English and Korean) ↬ a/n (a few things !!)

since i clearly don’t what “my love” in everyone’s native language “babes” is the place holder word and you can imagine it as whatever “my love / love” is in your language !! also i haven’t done an ot7 post in a while so these might be kinda bad and lowkey might not make any sense 💔

also, the 500 followers event is closed (unless you decide to send one in tonight then i’ll still write it 👀 !! ) but somehow we hit 800 followers today !! how this blog managed to get like 200 followers while i was ia is beyond me 😭

but thank you everyone 🥺 i’ll be writing requests from the 500 followers throughout the week and responding to asks as well <33 

˚₊·˚♤˚· lee heeseung ˚₊·˚♤˚·

late one night you and hee are laying in bed, unable to sleep so you ask him,

“babes, wanna eat some ramen?” he’s like yes, ramen !! but wait,

“babes?” he asks. “isn’t that fish in russian?” (like that whole “te amo” means “i love you” in tagalog / filipino even though it actually means ‘i love you’ in spanish. but yeah, he’d probably think it was something completely different in another language lmao) once you realized what you just called him you tell him,

“it doesn’t mean fish, it means love in [insert your language].” the dots connect in his head and all of a sudden,

“i babes you,” you hear. you can’t help but smile at him and laugh a little because,

“that’s not how the grammar works, but at least you tried.” from then on if he wanted something from you he’d do aegyo and would say.

“babes, please !!”

˚₊·˚✎˚·  park jongseong / jay | self indulgent jay mini fic somewhat related to this req ˚₊·˚✎˚· 

you’re chilling with jay one day and all of a sudden,

“hey, babes can you hand me the remote?” you ask. suddenly he’s frozen in place, looking at you like,

“did you just call me love in [insert your language]?” you look at him, slightly tilting your head to the side and you’re all like,

“huh, i guess i did.” in his head, his mind is going crazy because what ?? you l-word him ?? but then you’re just like,

“wait, how do you know what that word means?” and then he gets all flustered and begins to ramble.

“i went on a YouTube spiral at four am, and, uh… uhh… yeah, i just heard it. it sounded unique so i sorta just remembered.”

“when?”

“like, a few weeks ago.”

“what were you watching?”

“the basics to [insert your language] 101.” you’re shocked but not really since jay is basically a language genius. but now your heart feels all fuzzy and warm because he’s learning your language.

˚₊·˚ ✁˚· sim jaeyun / jake ˚₊·˚ ✁˚·

if anything, you probably didn’t call him babes first. why? because you said it to layla. you stopped by jake’s place before the both of you went to your parent’s place. since you haven’t seen layla in a while, she instantly captured your attention (like she so rightfully deserves).

“babes, i missed you!” you say as you smile while petting her and seeing her tail wag in happiness. jake looks at the sight of the two loves of his life and can’t stop the way his heart flutters a little. he doesn’t want to ruin the moment but he wants your attention so he ends up sort of sitting on the ground next to layla and peeks up at you with wide eyes and a smile.

“babes?” he asked. you end up also sitting on the floor, layla settling onto your lap,

“it means love in [insert your language].” he frowns,

“you said you love layla before saying you love me?”

“who says i love you?” he gets kind of pouty because he knows that you love but he wants to hear it. some time passes and when you’re at your parent’s house, you’re talking to them and you tell them in [insert your language],

“i love jake.” he hears the word and his name in the same sentence. so he takes a chance and using the same sentence you said but with your name he says,

“i love ___.”

˚₊·˚ ❆˚· park sunghoon ˚₊·˚ ❆˚··

it probably slipped out in a moment of panic while the two of you were ice skating. sometimes you slipped into [insert your language] due to a surge of various emotions, sometimes anger, fear, or frustration. sunghoon had asked if you wanted to go on a date to the new rink that just opened and you said yes because ice skating with hoon, how could you miss the opportunity ?? he was holding your hand and skating to your pace trying to teach you how to ice skate. but somewhere down the line, he ended up letting go without you realizing it (like when you ride a bike and the person behind you holding the bike lets go !!) so you turn around, eyes wide at the distance between you and sunghoon and you’re like,

“YAH, BABES YOU SAID YOU WOULDN’T LET GO,” and all of a sudden you lose your balance. thankfully, sunghoon being the great skater that he is manages to get to you and holds so you so that you don’t fall. you’re clutching onto his jacket, trying to catch your breath, “i hate you,” you mutter. he smiles as he moves your hair to get out of your face,

“yeah, keep telling yourself that. wait? what does babes mean?” he asks.

“it means love in [insert your language].” suddenly, ice king composure melts. heart going a hundred miles a minute. mind is all like wait what? he accidentally loses his footing and balance, falling while taking you down with him but you’re fine since you landed on top of him.

“are you ok, babes?” he asks to at least try and keep some cool because even though you’re in an ice skating rink, it suddenly feels as if things just got a hundred degrees hotter.

˚₊·˚❂˚· kim sunoo ˚₊·˚❂˚·

he had been interested in learning about your language and culture, mostly for the food… but a+ for effort, right? he would often ask you, “what does this mean?” “what does that mean?” that kind of stuff, since he was genuinely curious. he picked up a few words here and there, occasionally using a word that he knew in a sentence while talking to you. your family asked you to bring him over for a family gathering / party situation sometimes it felt like they liked him more than you. you were sitting down with a plate of food,

“babes, can you hand me a napkin?” suddenly, your and sunoo’s ears are filled with the sounds of “OOO” and your family begins teasing you. to yourself, you’re just like, did i really just call sunoo… but when you look at sunoo his smile is the widest it’s ever been

“you called me love, matji, matji?” (matji meaning like “right” in korean, idk it just felt right to spell that out here ok anyways)

“how did… how did you know?” and he does that thing where he kind of giggles,

“you just confirmed it!”

˚₊·˚✧˚· yang jungwon ˚₊·˚✧˚·

one night jungwon was dropping you off to the front of your doorstep to make sure you got home safe and sound. you were trying to be cute and said,

“saramhae” (saram means person in korean, but what you really meant to say was, “saranghae” which means i love you in korean). jungwon then does that thing where he smirks at you, tilting his head slightly, and he says,

“nado saramhae, babes.” (so like “i love you too, [love in insert your language]” but it’s saramhae because that’s what you said at first) but then,

“babes?” you ask. he plays it off by saying,

“i’m the leader, i need to learn how to communicate in different languages for engenes.” but really it’s just secret language learner pt. 2 exposed.

˚₊·˚⍢˚· nishimura riki / ni-ki ˚₊·˚⍢˚·

ni-ki’s head was on your lap, eyes closed since he was taking a nap and decided your lap was the best thing to claim as his pillow. you needed to get up so to wake him, you poked his cheeks,

“ni-ki,” you said. nothing.

“riki-ah?” this time as more of a question while lightly patting his hair. also nothing.

“babes, if you don’t wake up i’m gonna shove you off my lap.” suddenly, his eyes open and he looks up at you which causes you to jump back in your seat slightly.

“bae-ehbs?” he asks, trying to sound out the word.

“uh huh.”

“wait doesn’t that mean, love?”

“no… it means pabo,” you reply playfully. (pabo meaning like dum dum / stupid in korean, but it’s not meant to sound offensive here !!)

“no it means ‘love’ jay hyung told me about that word when i started dating you.”

“well, if you knew then why’d you ask?”

“wait, so it actually does mean love?”

“you just said jay told you!”

“yeah but i didn’t believe him.” at the confirmation of the word’s true meaning, he feels happy and kind of giddy at the new name he’s earned for himself from you. like heeseung, he’d use it to get something that he wants from you but instead of aegyo it’s more like teasing.

↬ a/n pt. 2 + semi tmi: i speak two languages and i suck at both, english and my parent’s native language. two & a quarter if you count the bare minimum of spanish i learned from taking it during the first two years of high school and the few words of korean i picked up from kdramas lmao 😭

❦ written by riri ( @enhykkul​ ) | blog masterlist | blog navigation

↬ tagging: @bloom-bloom-pow​ | @markleepooh​ | @sunshineshouchan​ (permanent taglist is open if anyone wants to be in it !!)

[c0nf3tt1]

A Silent Revelation (Naruto Uzumaki x GN Reader)

Summary- it isn’t until a moment of weakness does he realise 

Warnings: wholesome FLUFF, lil angsty? (not really) pinning!! (what’s a fic without a lil pinning?) 

Word count: 1200, short lil thing I thought of when I was needin a hug- 

You had never seen Naruto in a similar state. 

The overexertion and welling emotions barrelled into him all at once and he finally let it go.

It had been so long since he had openly cried in front of anyone, if ever-and he was sick of it. So sick and tired of all of the death, sadness and grief that seems to plague him for reasons he couldn’t understand.  

So that brought him here, in the thick of forest in the middle of returning from a mission with you, on his knees during the night sprawled across your sitting lap. Underneath the many stars that he could only hope were carrying the ones he had lost. 

It wasn’t intentional, for him to break down in front of you. But after everything that had caught up with him so fast he couldn’t help it. He had collapsed, holding onto the closest thing that could provide comfort. Which happened to be you. 

The only other person for kilometres. 

It was just the last straw. During the mission in enemy territory, Naruto and yourself had encountered the death of an orphan girl while executing a protection order. 

It turned out to be a casualty from the late civil war that had influenced the small village. 

You both weren't new to death, especially on missions but something was different this time. It had struck a chord in the both of you. Whether it was the small communal funeral, or the size of her innocent, untainted hands that would never get to experience the wonders of the world like you had.  

It just wasn’t fair.

The piercing sounds of his sharp inhales echoed throughout the woods around you. The crackling of the orange flame casted an inviting glow across your intertwined figures.  

There was a whisper,

“Please, just hold me a little longer.” a pleading voice struck your heart. 

“Of course, I’m here and I'm not going away until you’re ready.” your tone is the softest he's ever heard. It mellows over him. 

Another involuntary sob shakes through his core, this time triggered by the comfort he wasn’t used to receiving. His destpreat hands clinging harder onto the fabric of your clothing. 

You only held him closer, the racing of your heart pumping sparks of adrenalin at his closeness. The skin of your cheeks burning against the air of the artum night. 

You could never let him go, not in this state or any other. You would always be by his side, forever desperate to pour your innermost feelings out for the boy in front of you, you just couldn’t.

Not when all he needed was a friend. 

You listened carefully to his every sound, and sensed his movements. The gentlest grips of the fabric at your sides, or the shiver that slightly ran the length of his spine with every stretching sound that left his lips.

Truly this was worse than any open wound, seeing the one you loved so deeply feel this loss.   

It was something you were blessed with, but it was also a curse, being so one sidedly in sink with the blond. Hyper aware of his every move, but that’s love you had told yourself for the slightest bit of closure. 

It wasn’t until a cricket symphony later did you notice that his breathing had begun evening out, you held him closer. You shift slowly, standing up from the log that you had set down next to the fire. While you adjusted yourself not once did Naruto let go of you completely, it was then you sunk to the ground in front of the boy. 

Your knees touched each other as you faced him fully. His hands tightly clutch the fabric at the sides of your waist. It was only then did you get a look at his face, the deep sunken features made your heart constrict in pain. 

He was tired, 

so tired of it all. 

Of not having someone to hold onto, in fear that he'd lose them-

But you were here. 

With your hands caressing the sides of his face in a gentle embrace. That gave him the strength to look into you further then he ever has. 

You had always been there. 

A sparkling shine of realisation filtered through the sadness within his eyes. His mouth fell slightly agape. 

The softly shining milky light of the moon reflected wonders in the crystal blue of his irises. A deep ocean you had never gotten to fully appreciate this close. 

The soft short breaths that left Naruto's lips began to drown out clicking sounds and small rustlings of the forest around you. He was steady now, his eyes drying slowly. A new shine alight in the depths of his blue.

The gravitation you had felt in that moment was the strongest force you have ever encountered, you were being pulled closer to him. 

In more ways than one. It was at that moment that you both realised that the only thing holding you back were these walls. The walls that were finally breaking with every second you stared into each other's eyes.  

The depths of his gaze connected with your own.

A link that will forever remain, in both of your hearts. 

A silent revelation. 

The aching in the joints of his knees forgotten in the soft caress of your hands against his skin. The warmth of your palms breathing new life into his tired body. Then you smiled, one he had never cared to notice. The one he had just found out made his heart flutter and cheeks warm. The soft shape and the curve of your eyes was so comforting that he had almost forgotten his sadness entirely. 

The warmth of your hands suddenly became suffocating, yet he would never back away, instead he drew nearer. His hands slowly unclench your clothing, his fingers now gentle, resting underneath your rib cage causing your eyes to soften.  Even in a moment like this, he was still polite, never taking advantage of weakness. 

Your heartbeat was beyond normal, the thundering in your chest echoing in your ears. The crease of your eyes displaying your undivided affection for the boy in front of you. He was staring back at you, lips pulled into a tiny tranquil smile, reddened eyes held a wonder you didn’t recognize. The soft strokes of your thumbs lulling him into a sense of solace. 

It was then that he had realised, it was the people he had grown to love and care for that made every pain worth wiled. The suffering of life was never meant to be held alone. You share that burden with others, that is why they call them life challenges. They are challenges that happen to all people because every person is there to help you through it. 

It was people like you that made it easier but-

There was no one else like you. 

Pulling him in closer, breaking the unrelenting intimate gaze, you held him tightly against your chest. In one last effort to savour the feeling of closeness you had never experienced with him-or anyone else before. 

Your arms instinctively wrapped around each other's figures. Enveloping the both of you with a sense of home that had not existed with anyone else. 

Never in both of your entire lives had you felt so comforted by the embrace of another.  

And there would be no one else. 

~FIN~

[libradusk]

Ignited | Rex

Word Count: 8,388

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Summary: After an unexpected crash landing on Felucia results in Rex becoming entangled within a particularly sticky patch of foliage, an even stickier situation unfolds between the pair of you.

Warnings/Content: Explicit smut, as in the longest smut fic I’ve written so far, Rex gets a face full of Sex Pollen tropes (and by extension, slight dub-con by virtue of that?), AFAB reader (though no gender is explicitly mentioned), oral sex (reader receiving), hintssss of cock warming + breeding kink because that’s what I’m here for baby, can’t lie there are clear feelings involved because I’m too soft for this MAN.

a/n: This is set during the events of “Bounty Hunters” from season 2 of TCW, except instead of fighting pirates the reader and Rex end up boning down.

I took some liberties (I guess??) with the writing of the ship and also Clone Trooper equipment for plot purposes but let’s be real that’s not why any of us are here rn. 

I’ve had this + a sequel planned out forever so its such a relief to finally have finished part 1 of this behemoth at least.

And now, at last - have part 2

When the command that would reassign you to the Felucia Medical Base had first been issued, you were none too happy about it. You had become quite content with your duties amidst the 501st, as well as the closeness you had cultivated with its men, enough so that you were incredibly reluctant to see an end to it all. Despite the severity of the war currently plaguing the Galaxy, and their especially heavy involvement in fighting for the Republic side, the 501st always seemed to find a way to rekindle your optimism in a multitude of ways that were unique to them. It was refreshing. You considered yourself incredibly lucky to be surrounded by so many individuals, soldiers and Generals alike, who never failed to treat both you and each other as though you were each true individuals in their own unconventional family unit.

But alas, your luck had finally run dry. As instructed by the forces commanding both you and your unit of staff, you were now to stay at the base to re-establish its connections, as well as to provide a befittingly intricate report as needed.

Orders were orders.

Didn't mean you had to like them though.

You glare out into the darkness of space as that thought continues to swarm around your mind. The ship you’re currently situated upon cuts smoothly behind the one piloted by General Skywalker himself. You secretly thank the stars that you don’t have to share a vehicle with Anakin, considering how you’ve witnessed his reckless flying techniques numerous times over in the time you’ve known him. But even so, you can’t help but silently curse your own ship for being the object responsible for pulling you away from the only sense of true belonging you’ve felt since joining the army. All you can hope for is that the medical station isn’t too heavily damaged despite losing contact with the base of operations, and that by some miracle you can pull some strings to get reassigned back to your boys before your work within Felucia’s orbit threatens to drown you.

The dark expanse beyond the transparisteel viewpoint appears vast and inviting, as though beckoning you to sink into its velvet depths. You imagine the tenderness of the reprieve it could offer you in your fantasies, transporting you to a place where you could surround yourself with pleasant memories and little else.

Running away from your obligations would only ever get you so far, but for a moment it was blissful to relax into the thought of it. It made the ache of reality twinge a little less painfully in your chest.

You feel the warm weight of a pair of hands on your shoulders before your eyes unglaze enough to register them decorating your reflection. Captain Rex stands to attention behind you, the gentle hold of his palms atop your shoulders being the only aspect to break the picture of discipline his stance holds as he follows your gaze out to the stars. He allows his touch to linger for a moment more - to anyone else it would likely appear as no more than a colleague extending a gesture of camaraderie to a solemn looking comrade, but you know that to him it probably feels like the greatest of sins. His helmet obscures his expression, but you can hear the swish of his kama as he fidgets ever so slightly in place and you wonder if his thoughts are as overcast as your own.

This unspoken attraction, tiptoeing the line of propriety with each affectionate jest or brush of skin against armour in the corridor… it had all been going on for months now, to the extent where even Rex’s own men were beginning to whisper through the cracks in his resolve. Though now it seemed that this too would be forced to come to an end, snuffed out before it ever truly had a chance to bloom. The taste of that knowledge is sour on your tongue as you bite down on it to quash the sense of mourning that had suddenly washed over you.

It's exceedingly difficult to not take it as a form of punishment, even though you know that’s not the case. Really, you should be honoured to be appointed in charge of the station, but the fact that you had no way of knowing if it was even salvageable until you arrived there did precious little to alleviate the miserable affair this had all devolved into.

Your shoulders feel naked without his touch now and you realise that you’re yearning more than ever now that your hypothetical future with Rex is about to be torn away from you in less than an hour’s time. You find yourself wondering once more what expression graces his face beneath the visor, if his eyes lingered on you instead of the stretch of space beyond where his reflection could reach. You decide to indulge in your little fantasy for just a while longer, war was a tragic business, and you would continue to take what respite was offered to you while you still could.

“We seem to have lost you to the stars again, Officer.”

Rex’s low tone jolts you out of your starry-eyed daydream, your reflection’s gaze refocusing back at you in the windowpane as the void of space framing it fades out to a grey in your peripheral. The smile in his voice is obvious to you, even with the helmet’s barrier. It's familiar, warm but a little sad as it wraps the playful quip in a mask of enough stoicism for it to slip under the radar of the few troops that share the ship’s interior with you both. They’re mostly shinies, picked to accompany your team alongside the Captain as an escort, just in case trouble awaited your group once you reached the medical station itself. You already had the company of two Jedi Generals and their Padawan, but you weren’t about to complain about having Rex present alongside them either.

“We’re approaching the Felucia Medical Station now,” Obi Wan’s voice crackles through the ship’s communicator and closes the window of chance for you to quip back at the Captain. The Jedi’s usually calm voice prickles with an apprehension that rises the closer his much smaller ship gets to the seemingly derelict station, “something is wrong… brace yourselves- !”

Time appears suspended around you the moment the first flash of streamlined grey cuts through the darkness surrounding your ships. You have little chance to throw more than a glance towards the ruined medical station orbiting Felucia before the knife-like structure of several vulture droids cut dangerously close to your ship. 

“We need to move and evacuate, now!”

You aren’t sure if it's Rex’s voice or your own that echoes against the blaring siren of your ship as it takes the first hit of fire. The durasteel beneath your feet threatens to distort with the force of it, and you feel your breath stutter in your lungs as you’re shaken violently. You stumble to cling to a nearby surface while simultaneously shoving a rather shell-shocked member of your team down towards where the ship’s escape pods are located, eyes squinting through the flash of crimson beating off the walls around you. Your gaze locks on to Rex as he stands by the doorway, ushering the last few stragglers through it with a determined wave of his hand. The dark visor of his helmet flashes dangerously with each pulse of the alarm light, bathing his white armour in a bloody glow that darkens and spreads in time with its screeching. It dawns on you then, that this might very well be the last you see of him after all, even without setting foot on the medical station itself - this, as bitter a circumstance as it is, seems much more twistedly befitting.

Another blast collides with your ship, this one buckling the wall directly behind Rex and warping the exit’s frame with the force of it. You hear Rex cry out, the sound shocking straight through you as he’s thrown forward in an explosion of sparkling wire and twisted durasteel. The sight of him struck down to his knees is enough to shoot another bolt of adrenaline up your spine, and you launch yourself towards him despite the unsteadiness of your own legs in supporting you. He’s still very much conscious, but clearly injured as you grit your teeth and drag him to his feet, all but throwing the pair of you through the sparking blast door and towards an empty escape pod as the remnants of your ship begin to hurtle further towards Felucia’s surface.

---

Your landing is less than graceful, with your pod catching its underside on a particularly sharp jut of rock on its decline and sending itself skidding across the swampy ground. The impact of the connection sends your head spinning once more, and you’re forced to take a few minutes to regulate your breathing and ensure that your vision is no longer swimming before you can open your eyes and dare to venture outside. You flex the fingers on both hands before stretching out each of your limbs on instinct, relieved to find that somehow, nothing appeared to be broken and at worse you had suffered a few mere bruises despite a landing that would have made Skywalker himself proud.

The humidity of Felucia’s climate hits you the moment you step out of the ruined pod, legs carrying you with all the grace of a baby Krugga deer. It clings to your clothes as you survey the damage dealt to what remains of your escape pod, though it chills down the back of your neck severely once it dawns on you that Rex is nowhere to be seen within the wreckage. In a burst of panic you jog forward blindly, calling out for him through a raspy throat even as you stumble into a particularly sticky patch of flora that coats your uniform in a sweet-smelling gunk. Your hands fumble across your torso before settling on the blaster strapped to your hip. You grip the trigger with clammy fingers as you force your eyes to focus completely and scan your surroundings, ears ringing with the calls of nature and unseen creatures around you.

Despite the bustle of the jungle-planet’s ecosystem all around you, you find yourself completely alone.

No troops, no supplies, no Jedi and no Rex.

Your blood suddenly feels cold despite the heat rippling across the horizon line. Each thump of your heart grows louder with every second that passes, drumming in your ears like a foreboding death march as the breath begins to skip in your lungs. It's just about drowned out the ambience across the clearing you’re frozen in when you finally hear it: a faint string of cursing in mando’a paired with the sound of very human struggling not far from where you are.

The sound of your footsteps pounding the earth reaches you before your breathing even has the chance to even itself out again.

“Rex! Oh thank goodness-”

You find the Captain entangled in an odd-looking shrubbery of fuchsia coloured thorns. The trooper’s helmet lays on its side, just out of reach as he struggles to free himself. The frustration is evident on his face as he attempts to contend with what is clearly an injured shoulder. Relief gushes through you all the same, and you waste no more time in helping him free himself. 

You note the heaviness of the air around where he was trapped moments ago. The plant’s loosened pollen seemingly floats around its glossy flowers, its pinkish smog burning down your throat all the way to your belly as, despite your better judgement, you give in to your exhausted lungs and inhale too closely to it. The sensation is not unlike chasing a shot of Corellian whiskey, your head feels foggy just from the time it takes you to untangle Rex from the vines’ clutches. 

Rex’s voice drawls out like his gullet is coated with honey as he groans in pain. His eyes appear largely absent even as he weakly gestures to his utility belt and the familiar prickle of panic begins to bite at you once more. You rummage through his pack and note the half-used tube of bacta tucked away within it, which you fumble to apply to the exposed wound on his shoulder. The gash glares angry and bloody from the tear in his blacks as it peers out from the gap between where his pauldron and chest-plate meet. You cringe as his entire body buckles at the touch of your fingers against his skin once you carefully tug off his armour, taking care to try not to jostle him too much in the process. Each swipe of your fingertips against his body, injured or not, has him reacting like he’s received a kick to the gut. The panic melts into a simmering worry once you finish seeing to his more obvious wounds. You take solace in the knowledge that the bacta will no doubt work on the worst of his abrasions, but the way he’s now shivering and clenching his jaw with that same hazy stare sparks a new sense of concern within you. 

“... Are you sure you can stand? You still seem in pretty bad shape.” 

He coughs into his fist a few times before pinching the bridge of his nose in an obvious attempt to clear his vision and mind. His eyes are heavily-lidded when his gaze drags over to meet with your own.

“... yeah, I-I’ll be fine, heads just still spinning from where I was thrown out the ‘pod.”

Your eyes widen at his words and your fingers flex with the instinctual drive to check over his heaving body for any signs of internal damage or fractures. Even through his discomfort, he seems to read your expression before the accompanying words can leave your lips.

“Nothin’s broken, can tell you that much. This… foliage, whatever it is, broke my fall. Though I dread to think how much longer I would’ve been struggling in it if you hadn’t found me when you did. Thanks, by the way.”

A sigh of relief rushes from you at his reassurance, though you can’t help but eye him sceptically as he grits through the pain to shake out the stiffness in his joints. You pat his back comfortingly as you look towards the distance, newly set on locating yourself a less obvious place of shelter for the night than what the remnants of the escape pod could offer to you both. The Separatists would pick the two of you off easily if they were to find you in such a vulnerable state, but Rex still needed a sheltered place to rest in order for the bacta to heal his wounds all the same. With another sigh and the exchange of a few words of encouragement, you urge him to walk forwards into the underbrush. You take care to keep him close in your peripheral as you bundle up his removed armour under one arm and keep the blaster raised in your other, eyes keenly trained on your surroundings all the while in case you were to spot another one of your separated allies, or in case of more insidious forces raising their heads.

---

Your prayers seem to be answered in record time, as the pair of you manage to stumble on a cave far enough away from your crash-point for you to consider it safe. It’s discovery couldn’t have come at an any more pinnacle moment, as Rex’s shivering has only worsened in the time that has passed, so much so that now you can’t even reach out an arm to support his heaving shoulders without the contact of your body heat against his own sending him spiralling into another fit of quivering, cold sweats. The situation is only made more daunting with the fact that you have yet to stumble on any of your lost allies, Jedi or otherwise, and at this point the ground itself feels as though it is pulsating under your boots with how high the heat has risen.

Quickly, you usher Rex towards a nearby patch of bushes as you step forward to survey the cave for signs of life, heart hammering in a combination of nerves and exhaustion drawn from trekking under the Felucian sun. Finding it satisfyingly empty, you beckon the Captain forward. No sooner does Rex gingerly set himself down with a grunt does his comlink finally crackle to life. Anakin’s voice sounds distorted and broken as it strains from the trooper’s wrist and you can’t help but fixate on the beads of sweat that trickle down Rex’s neck into the collar of his blacks as he lifts his arm towards his flushed face.

“-Rex, Rex! Do you read me, Rex?-”

“...Yeah General Skywalker, I hear you. Signal’s spotting something terrible, sir, but it's better than nothing.”

You hear a muddle of voices dancing amidst the static and move drop down to where Rex slumps against the cool surface of the cave wall. Your body brushes against his as you lean closer, and his breath hitches audibly despite it being the uninjured side you come into contact with.

“Everything ok there Rex? You sound in a bad way.” It’s Obi-Wan’s concerned tone that echoes across the cave space this time, and Rex shakes his head despite the General having no way to see his reaction.

“N-no I’m fine, just took a hit when the vulture droids took down our ship is all. I’ll be fine, I’m not alone.”

“I’m here with Captain Rex, General Kenobi. We still haven’t been able to locate the rest of the group we initially set off with, but we’re safe and sheltered for now.” You duck closer to Rex’s suspended wrist, doing your best to ignore the heat of his breath fanning over your cheek as you speak into the communicator. You can feel his eyes on your profile, but keep your own fixated on the blue lines decorating his forearm plating all the while. “Rex is… His shoulder is injured. I’ve treated it with what I have available, but the medical supplies perished alongside our ship and it might be at least a night until we can judge if he’s well enough to set off through the wilderness again.”

There's a thoughtful hum from the other side of your communication link and you can only imagine that Kenobi is currently cupping his chin in thought at your words. A voice you recognise as Ahsoka’s chimes in before the Jedi Master can speak once more, the volume of her voice indicating that she must have snatched Anakin’s wrist close to her face before anyone else had the chance to interrupt her.

“We have most of the others here with us! Your pod can’t have landed much further away right- hey!-”

“As I was going to say before Ahsoka here decided to interrupt, you’re hopefully not much further away from where we currently are. I’ll send over our coordinates so you can hopefully use Rex’s equipment to track to our location. We seem to have stumbled upon some kind of farming settlement, we’re going to see if we can get some help from them once we get a little closer.”

For the first time since your crash-landing, the weight sitting across your chest eases a fraction, and it manifests into a small smile of relief that brightens your face in the fluorescent glow emitted by Rex’s comlink.

“Amazing! I’m so relieved you’re all ok, I’ll admit I feared the worst once our ships began to go down.”

“Please Officer, you should know better by now than to doubt my flying skills after everything you’ve seen so far-”

“Really Anakin? I’m not so sure that's the most reassuring statement you could have given, considering your reputation... Anyway, stay safe you two and try to reconnect with us as soon as possible. I’m sending the coordinates over now.”

There’s a faint beeping sound as what you assume to be the coordinates in question sync themselves up with your own location, and it isn't long before Rex lets slip a low groan of frustration as he eyes flicker to the small display screen on the inside of his wrist. Your newfound optimism drops at the sound.

“What is it?”

“It's gonna take at least a full day and a half on foot to get to where Generals Kenobi and Skywalker are, and that’s with us both operating at full capacity.” Rex punctuates his frustration with another pained hiss as his shoulders lurch forward towards you. Your hands instantly jut out to support the weight of him, resting firmly on his chest so as to avoid latching onto his injured shoulder. The full body shiver that wracks through him is apparent under your palms, as is the way his breath catches in his throat as you move a hand to press against his clammy forehead.

He’s boiling. There’s no way you can allow him to move from the cave as his condition currently stands. This is no simple case of blood loss and fleshwounds, whatever toxin present within that plant is currently forcing itself through his bloodstream with a vengeance and is clearly the main culprit behind his discomfort. You feel somewhat lightheaded yourself, especially in such close proximity to him. There’s a creeping heat fluttering across your skin despite the coolness the cave offers. It's been slowly gnawing at your flesh since you first came into contact with Rex’s botanic prison, and you can only imagine the intensity of how it's affecting Rex in comparison.

“Don’t make that face at me, I’m gonna be fine.” He speaks through gritted teeth as he furrows a brow at your expression, attempting and failing to appear strict as he pants up at you from where he sits slumped against the wall.

“You need to rest at least. Come here and let me check your vitals.”

I need to make sure this isn’t affecting you as seriously as it seems. You choose your spoken words cautiously as you slowly begin to strip him of the remainder of his armour, leaving him in just his blacks and boots. He protests weakly for a moment before giving in to your careful touch, resigning himself to simply instructing you on how to undo the more complicated latches keeping the plating in place and watching the movement of your fingertips dance down his body.

Somehow he’s burning even hotter beneath the plastoid, his breathing becoming shakier with each layer that is pulled away from his body. When your thigh brushes up against his own when you lean across him to place his thigh-plate on the rest of the armour-pile, he throws his head back and groans. The sound shoots straight through you despite your attempt to resist it - guilt crawling in to join it in quick succession. 

“...m’sorry-” he glances at you bashfully beneath heavy lashes, pausing to wet his lips between a shuddering sigh as his head lolls back against the stone behind him, “-I’m just, just burning up - my body is on fire and I don’t know how to stop it.”

You take a deep breath of your own before opening your dry mouth to speak again.

“I-its ok Rex, You’re going to be ok, I promise. Here,” you reach down to where his utility belt sits beside him, unhooking the small canteen of water and raising it to his lips, “drink, you need to get some fluids in you.” 

He takes the flask from you with fingers that hint of a tremor ghosting across them. You watch his reaction as he chugs it down, noting sadly that it hardly seems to bring him any relief. With an inward sigh, you refocus your attention to checking over his vitals, alerting him before your hands make contact with his body once more.

His muscles continue to twitch under your touch, but you’re relieved to find that despite his elevated body temperature and sensitivity, there are no glaring signs of toxin poisoning or major threat in his system. You reassure yourself that his condition likely stems from his body’s reaction to an unfamiliar substance, but it being one that didn’t appear to have any threat of being fatal to him. Even so, you make a decision to set off in search of the others as soon as you were possibly able to so that he could at least receive more in depth medical aid, cursing once again that the medical supplies destined for the ruined base perished in the attack on your ship.

As soon as you pull away, a sound leaves him that's akin to a whine and the heat of your own cheeks intensifies almost unbearably.

“...I should go find something to make a fire with. Try and get some rest, ok? I won’t go far I promise.”

You shrug off the jacket you’d slung over your shoulder the moment the atmosphere had become too hot to handle, flicking it out to the side to shake off any loose pollen before draping it warily over Rex’s torso. It's less of an effort to keep him warm, his shivers are beyond any help of this kind now, but you hope it's perceived as a caring gesture all the same. Perhaps it could serve as some semblance of a pillow if nothing else. You try to ignore the way his fingers instantly ball up in the fabric like a lover’s grip on the bed sheets.

It's strange, seeing him reduced to this, a side of him that you’ve never even caught a glimpse of beforehand when you thought you knew the Captain so well. You aren’t entirely sure how to act around him at the moment, because he seems so vulnerable and so sensitive to each brush against his body, leaning towards you each time like he can’t bear to be without contact despite the heat licking across his bones.

So you run away, just for a moment, just to give yourself enough time to process what's unfurling before your very eyes and the reasons as to why it's occurring. The humidity in the air is still stifling, even now the sun has begun to dip lower in the sky. A shivering sigh you didn’t even realise you were holding in is knocked from your lungs as the evening air enters them. It twists across your audience of none and sounds impossibly loud despite the bustle of nature all around you. 

You somehow feel even more lost now than when you had started.

---

By the time you’ve loaded up on enough wood to make a decent campfire the temperature has dropped considerably. It breathes over your clammy skin mercifully, but does little to quell the heated thoughts plaguing your mind still. You waste no time in assembling a fire at the cave’s mouth. The sweat clinging to the back of your neck has cooled to a shivering kiss at this point, it dips its fingers down your spine as a breeze edges by you and licks across the flames. Rex’s groans of discomfort have lowered in pitch now, and they creep out from between the stones to settle deep in your stomach despite your increased attempts to bat them away. The uncomfortable heat building between your legs threatens to shackle them next to the fire, but the concern in your heart urges you forward to check on your injured soldier despite the heavy hesitation standing in your path. A particularly loud yelp proves to be the final push you need to shove you forward to a stumbled sprint.

What you find causes the remaining firewood in your hands to clatter noisily around your ankles. It splinters off towards the darker reaches of the caves to sit broken and forgotten while you stand slack jawed at the sight before you.

Rex lays writhing beneath your jacket, the material now wrung between the whitened knuckles of his fist as he bites down on it to try and smother his whimpering. It's become less of a blanket and more of a crude gag of sorts to cage his groans against. His blacks have been shed, they sit crumpled and hastily discarded across the cave’s floor. Rex is bare to your eyes, a tangle of panting breath and glistening, naked skin that almost appears to glow with the faint light of the campfire in the near distance. It serves to bathe him in copper, gilding his taunt muscles in a way that only emphasises the pure heat rolling off every inch of his body.

Your eyes rake over the whole shivering mess of him before you can bear to strip them away.

Your name all but wails from his lips once you can finally focus on how his gaze has locked onto you with a hunger - expression strained and apologetic, yet clouded with wide blown lust all the same. There's an echo of guilt that stirs your guts into knots, it screams at you as it bubbles over.

You should not be seeing this.

And yet you cannot look away now, your eyes drifting further down the valley of his stomach to where he grasps at himself. His wrist curls with each desperate jerk of his fist around his cock.

The coil winding inside you snaps to something hotter, yet your voice still fails you. It remains useless with an even greater intensity as he raises the same, glistening hand to smear it over his abdomen in a sparkling trail. He groans out your name again, something intelligible stumbling along behind it. The words are as jumbled as your thoughts.

“Mm-sorry. I tried to fight it but - but its too hot, m’burning-” Rex’s words slur together in a gasp. “Can’t, just can’t… fuck… I need you, need this, always needed…”

He trails off with another shaking moan as his hips canter and buck, body once again reminding him of the heat crawling over every one of his nerves.

“...I can’t, Rex.” He looks almost pitiful, but you can’t help but answer in a voice that’s stern, yet also too small in that moment for an officer of your capabilities. You try to keep your eyes trained on his upper half as you step closer, unsure if it's a thinly contained lust or concern fuelling your steps in that moment. The heat in your stomach billows higher the closer you get, and fuck - the waves of heat swelling from him seem almost contagious now.

Rex whines into your jacket in protest, and you can't help but ponder if this is truly the same steadfast soldier you thought you had known for months.

Against your screaming better judgement, you kneel down to check shaky fingers against his forehead. He leans desperately into the contact, but as quickly as the relief can flash across his face, it dies - replaced by a furrow of his brow and the straining of his arms as he so clearly fights to keep them pinned at his sides as you inch closer. There’s a new ache twisting in your heart over seeing him attempt to cling to the last shred of his composure, you think you can even make out the sparkle of frustrated tears gathering behind his lashes now.

“Oh, Rex…” Your words are carried on a whisper. The absurdity of your situation would have made you laugh if you were to have stumbled upon it in some sleazy holo-vid or novel, yet seeing the outcome of it play out in real life with someone you care for is gut wrenchingly frightening. 

How long was this going to plague him? The thought of him twisting with an agony you cannot relieve makes your heart ache defeatedly, posture slumping to further accommodate the emotion burdening your form.

You sweep your hand down the slope of his cheekbone in an attempt to soothe him. His pulse thrums in his temple as your fingers skim over it in their path from his forehead. Surprise jumps in your stomach as he suddenly cocks his neck in order to softly catch your fingertips with the plush of his lips, pressing against them in a kiss that seems far too soft for how evidently worked up he is. The gentleness of the gesture contrasts with the harsh sigh of air that expels through his nose when your touch drifts away.

Those newly dangerous eyes lock with yours again, but he remains completely still now aside from the occasional shivers fluttering over his shoulders and the laboured rise and fall of his chest. You feel like you’re going to drown in them, but your legs refuse to step away. His gaze begins to roam as you stand paralysed beneath it, raking over your expression before settling at last on your lips. His tongue darts out to wet his own before he opens them to speak again, the vibrato of his voice feels damp against your skin despite the fact you’re no longer touching him.

“Please.” 

His eyelids droop as he pushes the top half of his body forward into a bastardised mock-bow in front of you. Amber eyes cling to your own once again, their pupils still blown but his voice now regaining the sense of clarity that had been lost to him before.

“Please, I want this, I need this so badly-”

Your resolve finally snaps and you all but bruise his mouth in a kiss that sings of longing as much as it does unbearable desperation. You grasp his jaw tight in a clammy hold as your teeth clash together with the force of it all. His growl carries over your tongue once you slip the appendage into his mouth, though you can only bask in the tiny victory for a short moment before you’re all but choking on your surprise as Rex pounces and drags you down to the cool floor alongside him. It's as though he’s become revitalised by your touch and taste, arms caging you beneath a look so possessive that it shoots straight between your thighs. You can feel just how strong he is as he leans down to kiss you once more, the press of his broad chest against your captured self stealing the air from you in more ways than one. It's a body that has been engineered to fight and kill, one that is genetically identical to the thousands of brothers that take to the field alongside him each day of the war. Yet now as you battle against the force of him to run your fingernails through the blonde buzzcut atop his head and over the uneven surface of his scarred shoulders, you note that it's decorated with parts that are unique only to him.

There is only one Rex, and in this moment, you are as much his as he is yours.

And you want to help him through this, you do.

Your hands have barely begun to skim over the constellation of scars painted across his back before they’re pinned above your head as Rex begins to clumsily strip you, his teeth now finding purchase in the curve of your neck. Your head begins to spin again as your shirt is torn over your head and flung across the floor, both your undergarments and bottoms soon following alongside it. A gasp slips from you the moment your newly bare flesh makes contact with the chill of the cave floor, it pulls a shiver across your naked shoulders that only intensifies further when the heat of Rex’s mouth attaches itself to your skin again and again in a delicious contrast.

It's maddening, the pace he’s moving at. It’s as though he can’t dedicate too much time to one specific area of your body before his lust demands he move on to taste another. His palms are wide and impossibly hot against you as he grips your thighs with a battle hardened grip before spreading them unceremoniously. You yelp in surprise and push yourself up on your elbows the moment he does, limbs beginning to shake the moment hot breath fans over your core. There's a flash of what you believe is concern that darts across his eyes then, but it soon hardens as he takes in the sight of your parted lips and the flush that has spread down your throat. Rex clearly tries to keep his eyes trained on your expression as he lowers his attention to your cunt, but the moment the taste of you hits his tongue he can’t help but groan in relief, eyes fluttering closed as they threaten to roll back into his skull.

His closely-cropped hair gives you little to nothing to grip onto as the first wave of pleasure stutters over you, and you resolve to bunch your fists into the fabric of his blacks beneath your hips for support. He’s a messy eater, just like his kisses were moments beforehand. His teeth even threaten to graze you a few times as he nips at your inner thighs between each lathe of attention he flicks against your folds. It causes you to yelp in mild alarm each time he does before the sound is buried beneath your moans once more as soon as he finds a rhythm that he can work against you. Despite the way he’s currently growling into your pussy, he’s still clearly lucid enough to squeeze your thigh in what you think is apology each time, though the indents his nails leave behind beg otherwise.

Rex lazily fucks up into his hand as he tastes you, each vibrating groan stretched from within his throat only shooting further into your core. The flush in his cheeks blooms deeper now, and it peppers across the top of his chest in a ruby hue that only burns darker in the low light of the campfire. He looks beautiful, even in such a state as this, and you can’t help but cry out his name as he switches between sucking at your clit and circling it with the rough pad of his thumb.

“S’good.” Rex’s voice slurs as he whispers against you, letting out another deep groan of his own as he pushes a finger into you and watches you clench around it, your head falling back with a broken gasp. You can hear him audibly swallow at your reaction, it melts into a purr as he pulls back to marvel at his handiwork after bestowing another lingering swipe of his tongue across your thrumming bundle of nerves. A thin strand of slick and spit trails breaks away with the detachment of his lips and you moan at both the sight of him and the loss of his mouth’s contact. His other hand comes to rub circles into the muscle of your thigh and you can feel the precum slicking his fingers smear across your flesh before quickly cooling across the heated surface.

“So, so good for me. So gorgeous.”

His tone is gentle, reverent almost. It contrasts sharply with the way his hand inches to squeeze your inner thigh as the other curls a finger experimentally within you. It truly feels as though the tables have been turned on you now, and it's your turn to muffle the sob that bubbles up your throat with your hand, back arching at the feeling of his thick finger stretching and rubbing the inside of your walls and the praise rolling off his tongue. The pace of his wrist is slow enough to have your toes curling, but not enough to push you over the edge to where you desperately needed to be.

He appears to forget his desperation for a moment longer, continuing to sit back on his haunches to admire your expressions with a hint of a lopsided smile as you all but fuck yourself on his hand. Another strangled moan leaves you then, and it's this one that finally seems to break whatever trance he has drifted off into, the hunger filling his eyes once more to take the place of the love-sick adoration that had graced them before. You drawl out his name needily, that all too familiar heat that you had first experienced when you found him on Felucia’s surface blazing over your nerves with a higher intensity than before. He finally snaps once again and lurches forward to bite into another kiss, hands now taking a bruising hold on your hips. Your chest hitches with the emptiness you feel once his fingers leave you, though the press of his body above your own makes quick work of ceasing your squirming. His skin is boiling, the full weight of him almost suffocatingly hot and heavy as he brands you into the cave floor. You find your legs hooking over his hips on instinct, hands gripping onto his biceps in an attempt to ground yourself from the sensations bombarding you. The ambience of the outside world has silenced itself to you now, all you can focus on are the wet sounds of your mouths meeting in a series of breathless kisses and the beat of your pulse in your ears.

You inadvertently bite down on his bottom lip as he begins to rut his lower half against you, resulting in another low growl and an increased force in the jerk on his hips. Both of you moaning at how the length of his cock slides against the slick of your sex with each grinding movement. 

“Rex… please.” You are the one begging this time, uncurling your newfound grip on his shoulders to begin creeping it down his abdomen. He allows you the freedom to do this, but keens into the crook of your neck once your fingers wrap around his cock and begin to guide it blindly towards your entrance. “Please, please, please…!”

Your mindless mantra cuts off abruptly as he finally presses his hips forward and sheathes himself completely within you in an aching push. The action knocks the wind from your lungs and stretches your mouth wide in a silent scream, but your eyes never leave his own the whole time. Despite the sudden rush of relief and the cloud of pheromones threatening to blind you, beneath his wall of tightly wound muscle and feral lust you sense a tinge of nervousness still. Shakily, you reach a hand to cup his cheek tenderly as you attempt to adjust to the size of him all the while.

“Fuck.” It’s all you can manage to spit out as he slowly begins to withdraw from you, the head of his cock scraping against your walls in a way that has your head lolling back and vision spinning. He’s a stretch, but he slots so perfectly back inside you with each purposeful thrust in a way no other has ever done before. It’s a real struggle to catch your breath before Rex begins canting his hips forward with an instinctive fever, his hands pulling up your lower body to meet with his thrusts as you lay limp with pleasure beneath him. His cock throbs so intensely that you can feel it, even through the harshness of the pace he’s set. The pattern of his hips is largely uneven, jerking between quick, shallow thrusts to slower, deeper movements that sink his cock so deeply within you that your clit kisses against his pubic bone in a way that has you clawing at his shoulders once more. You can’t tell if this is due to inexperience or the overwhelming pleasure shooting through him as you attempt to grind upwards against him, but the way he sinks his teeth into your neck in such a way that you know he’ll leave a mark reminds you that you don’t care either way.

Rex’s entire body purrs against you as he releases a hand from your hip to paw at your chest, mouth trailing sloppy kisses from the quickly forming bruise on your throat to paint your collarbone in shades of puce and violet. Soon you’ve all but folded around him like a love letter, one that is signed with strings of mumbled mando’a painted across your skin with each thrust that shakes your body. You’re confident your nails are leaving their own angry red marks across his shoulder blades as you try to tug him even closer and arch up against him when he pinches a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It’s all so messy and primal, with the heat of him crawling into your very lungs with each gasp he pushes out of you as he splits you open.

The wet slap of your bodies meeting is almost obscene as it echoes around the cave, the sound only punctured further with the whines and groans of the people responsible for it. Your head leans back into the cooling embrace of the stone floor once more, content to lose yourself to the hazy pleasure swimming in the air as Rex’s thrusts pick up in intensity.

You’re snapped out of your lustful fog when his palm cups the side of your face with an unexpected tenderness that conflicts with the fortified hold he has looped around your lower back. Your eyes snap back open to full alertness, and instantly meet with a gaze that is so focused that you feel it could cut down to peer into your very soul itself if it wanted to. Rex’s expression is almost predatory despite the tenderness with which he cradles your cheek, teeth obviously clenched along with every muscle in his jaw and upper body - and yet his eyes themselves look upon you as though you are the most beautiful being in the Galaxy despite your sweat-slickened face and the thick tears of pleasure that threaten to slip down your mottled cheeks.

The way his blonde tint of hair halos around his head and the shadows dance over the chiselled contours of his body make him look more myth than man, glowing and golden and impossibly powerful above you. But a strangled moan of your name as he brushes his thumb against your cheek reminds you that he is indeed as mortal as yourself.

You’re coming before you can even realise it.

Your orgasm is the type that whites out the world around you until only you and Rex remain, rolling over your whole body in waves that have you clenching around him so hard that his own movement is forced to still with the intensity of it, the weight of him locking you into place beneath him. Your legs quiver so hard that they border on aching as you throw your arms around his neck and scream silently into the crook of his shoulder, ears ringing in such a way that drowns out everything bar the sound of your lovemaking.

The spike of your pulse is so loud that you nearly miss the way he all but shouts your name as he reaches his climax right behind your own, the syllables encased within the stream of a low moan. His voice dips in a way you’ve never heard from him before as he releases deep inside of you in impossibly thick ropes that warm you from the inside out. It's choked on its own emotion as his hips give out a few weak, final thrusts that force more of his cum to pool out from your twitching cunt. He sobs something you can’t decipher into your neck as he loops both arms around your torso to tug you close, but you still feel the words humming over your oversensitive nerves with a vibration that bubbles into goosebumps across your shoulders and back.

The chill of the cave floor is soothing rather than biting against your spent limbs, and it only beckons forth your fatigue more as you relax against it. Your lower half remains practically sat in his lap, buried to the hilt even as your orgasm tapers off into a pleasant buzz. His cum continues to dribble down between you in syrupy trickles as you attempt to catch your breath, chest still heaving and hips burning in the most delightful way.

Rex’s head remains nestled in the crook of your neck even after you manage to raise a shaky arm to brush your digits across the fuzzy texture of his hair. He nuzzles against the particularly dark mark he had sucked into your flesh, panting words of endearment against you all the while.

“So perfect, just wanna keep you here - fuck - stay inside of you forever.”

It takes more strength than you would like to admit to raise yourself off the ground enough to coax him out from under your chin. You brush a feather-light touch across the line of his jaw before you steal away a kiss that’s the most gentle of the night, it's one that sings of untold feelings and creeping thoughts that sting when you pull back.

Even so, it's lazy and loving and Rex groans appreciatively into it, a sigh escaping through his nose as though you have breathed the life right back into him.

Lust quickly creeps back to cloud his vision once he props himself up to stare down at you again. His gaze openly flows over the sight of you splayed out and still stuffed full of him. A rumbled growl bubbles from behind his teeth as he worries them over his swollen lower lip, the sound shooting straight to your cunt once more and causing you to roll your tired hips against his without even thinking. An affectionate chuckle slips past his smirk and his face creases into something more familiar, more befitting of the Rex you had always known - though the fire in his eyes still continues to burn with the intensity of the man who had just fucked you senseless minutes prior.

“Sorry, Cyar’ika,” Rex’s voice is thick and ragged as he speaks, his accent sharpening the words almost dangerously. Warmth blooms and spreads within your chest, the feeling sliding downwards in tandem with his hands against your sides before they eventually settle firmly on your hips with a familiar grip.

“I’m not quite finished with you yet.”

[ohheyitsokay]

I actually wanted to request something for the soulmate au but I couldn’t think of anything 😭 so a real cute one would be whiskey x reader and you can hear you soulmate sing. It was on the list but idk the number

Celeste! Thanks for forcing me to face my feelings about this man having a high school sweetheart in his backstory. Hope you enjoy my take on it!

Wordcount: 1.2k

Warnings: brief mentions of trauma?

>>

It started at a different time for everyone, but that didn’t stop you from wondering if maybe you didn’t have a soulmate at all.

Of course, this phenomenon was so thoroughly beyond reason, that there was no indicator that this would be true. Some didn’t hear the first song of their life partner until they were elderly and built relationships without it.

You best friend first heard her soulmate’s singing when she was just seven, blessed to spend most of her life in connection. She would tell you stories about her soulmate’s voice, how it had become a comfort, even a thread of communication for them. And you were there when they first met, in college, you watched her whip around, whispering “I know that voice!”

When the two of you were young, you’d speculate. Maybe their singing voice was embarrassing? What if they were shy? What if you were a secondary soulmate? It was fun, but over time, she would just squeeze your hand, and wait by your side.

Time had wandered on, and you had come to terms with it. It wasn’t that you were calloused, per se, but you had learned it wasn’t worth losing sleep over. You were working on loving the life you built for yourself, after all, and there wasn’t anything you could do to bend fate. 

But you cried when you first heard him.

Of course, you’d been under your table, trying to grab a runaway orange when the baritone filled your ears. Everyone had always told you the first time was overwhelming, but you hadn’t expected it to give you a mild concussion – you jerked right into the table. The tears weren’t from pain, though, but from joy in hearing it. It was a man, with an accent, and a voice that was warm and gravely and filled you from the top of your throbbing head to you toes.

-

The first time Jack heard you, he cried too.

A second chance? A second soulmate? It had been unthinkable.

But his mind was being filled with something sweet and rich and wonderful and for three minutes, it kept his confusion and guilt at bay.

The exact amount of time he needed to close his files, put everything safely away, and walk to the office of the Statesman’s counselor.

Part of him didn’t want to wait – he had half a mind to quit that day and go searching for you. It didn’t seem beyond reason to try to steal some of the organization’s tech to make it easier either, but after an hour of talking through it, he decided to start a little slower.

Jack made a playlist of all his favorite songs, unable to stop himself from throwing in some silly, fun ones. He would sing to you, first every evening on his way home, and then whenever he could. Once a week, he’d sit down in the little corner office and let himself acknowledge that for the first time in years, the romantic ones made his heart ache in a good way.

Listening to you on in the morning, hearing your voice become less tired, and letting it sink into his soul became his favorite part of the day. It seemed like you didn’t mind the pace, either, happy enough that the ball was finally rolling.

But, as it does, after just five weeks, fate gave it a push.

In the office, there were rooms filled with monitors, and people to watch the hidden cameras all around the world. Jack didn’t spend a lot of time in these rooms, hating the headaches the screens gave him, and the overload of visuals. He needed the information directly though, planning to meet another agent on the street for the takedown, so he was stuck hovering by.

The camera he and the tech were watching was in a taxi. First, the target climbed in, and they turned on the audio as the undercover driver tried to get some information out of him. It went as planned, until another passenger climbed in and Jack’s heart nearly stopped dead. Even through the speakers something about your voice – murmuring your destination – was making his senses scream. His ears burned, trying to determine if the warped voice he was hearing matched yours.

The target and agent were completely ignored as one of his songs came on the radio. He watched, enraptured as you paused, almost like you couldn’t resist, and started singing with it, quietly. The others in your shared space were annoyed, but your voice filled his ears, as well as crackling into the room, and when you added a little twang to one of the worlds it was all over.

Jack had never moved so fast in his life.

He was supposed to meet the driving agent in a minute, anyway, but he flung himself on the streets weaving desperately towards the corner of the block.

You had stopped singing, embarrassed as the two men in the taxi glared at you. It was just a song that gave you so much happiness you hadn’t thought about singing aloud, but there was something clearly going on. The car slowed to a stop at the corner, and you unbuckled yourself, telling the driver you’d just get out here. As you opened the door, however, a handsome, panicked man on the outside pushed it close. Panic rose in your throat, confusion outweighed by the sudden movement of the other passenger. It wasn’t his stop either, but he was yelling and throwing himself out of the car at a sprint.

Your door opened again, and you found yourself face to face again with the handsome stranger, intensity in his gaze.

“Darlin, do not go anywhere,” he said, in the voice you’d been hearing every evening, before he was gone, chasing after his target.

You were frazzled. Cars were honking, at some point your driver had gone missing, too, and you were pretty sure you just met the love of your life. You didn’t know what to do. After a moment of calming breaths and fidgeting, you climbed out of the taxi, closing the doors and turning on the hazard lights. Hovering on the corner sidewalk seemed just as safe as sitting in the backseat of an immobile car on angry streets, anyway.

Then there was a warm hand over your eyes and as you nearly jumped out of your skin, you heard is voice, singing the song you’d been singing minutes before; his song. You grabbed his hand, turning around eagerly, to see the handsome (now slightly scruffier) stranger. Behind him the other two men were trailing, one in handcuffs, but you hardly noticed them.

“Hello,” you said, almost laughing. His eyes were as warm and eager as his voice, which stopped singing, and he was already moving to hold you. “Is this going to be my life, now that you’ve found me?” You gestured loosely.

His broad shoulders shrugged, and the adrenaline must have been wearing off. For all he was clearly a hero who just got the bad guy, he looked awfully nervous. You gently pushing his cowboy hat up and ducked under it, so your faces were close.

“Next time, I won’t go anywhere either,” you said. His smile was broad and happy, both of you well aware of the subtext.

“Thank you, darlin.”

>>

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @0celestialbitch0 @scribbledghost

[prose-for-hire]

Choices

Pairing: Faith x reader

Request: i am so beyond thrilled requests are open again! when you have the time can you please do a faith x reader oneshot where the reader is a scooby and usually pretty ethical and trustworthy but they secretly date faith after she goes evil, preferably including angst with the other scoobys when they find out❤

Requested by: Anon

You liked to stick by the rules. You walked in the light. You weren’t a complete saint, of course. But you did pride yourself on being trustworthy. Your friends, the Scoobies, always came to you for advice.

You and Faith, in theory, appeared to be opposites. She was always so much more outgoing and cooler than most in the room. You were a lot more bookish and stereotypically ‘good’ than her. But you did compliment each other. You were both very caring people. You shared values and your humour complimented each other’s.

You found yourselves becoming closer and closer. Until the day she admitted she liked you. Kissed you. Ever since, you had lifted her up. Supported her when she thought you may turn from her.

You had both fallen so deeply. She had never felt this way before. It was everything. She couldn’t dare think about losing you. Much less because of her own actions. She would hate herself for it.

Faith had never had a relationship so good. You liked to communicate your feelings and always encouraged her to do the same. She had never been able to trust anyone in the way that she trusted you.

However, then you found out. About how she had hurt that man. About her working with the Mayor. When you found out what had happened with Faith, it hit you in the gut. Worried you.

Not for the reasons most may expect though. You worried for her safety. For what she was getting involved in. You wanted to wrap your arms around her, try to ground her the way she had for you so many times.

You saw her again but she hid behind that mask she usually used with the others. You hadn’t missed the way she hid those emotions. Your horror at what had happened had read to her as disgust. As if you no longer wanted to be with her. As if you hated her where there had only been love there before.

She was walking away from you, storming to her new apartment courtesy of the Mayor. Her eyes watering. Her heart in pieces. The only person she had ever trusted with her heart and now she had to face being alone again.

“Faith!” You shouted, rushing up behind her before she disappeared. She turned instantly, she always would for you.

“You’re here to end it, huh?” She said, looking at the floor, “Evil doesn’t really match the goody-schtick you have going on, right?”

“I can’t lose you Faith…” You admitted, your eyes welling with tears.

“Yeah, well, everyone leaves. Turns away. Gotta get used to it sometime right?”

“No! Please, don’t do this! I-I don’t want it to be like this…”

“Well, there’s no way you’re gonna turn from any of them – they were always your friends not mine”

“I won’t be able to stop being their friends, but I wanna be with you still… maybe we could… still?” “Uh, but… in secret?” You offered, cringing slightly. Hoping she wouldn’t laugh in your face. But she clung to it, near desperately. Her eyes brightened. Face appeared brightened by this hope.

She never thought you would say that. She adored you but she knew you well. Had expected you to be unable to see that things were grey not just black and white. Because of the way you always tried to be so good. Make the correct choices.

“You really mean it?”

You nodded vigorously to further your point. Eyes streaming with tears at even the idea of losing her. You wiped your eyes on your sleeve, facing her again.

“I can’t stand being without you”

“Even though I’m working with the Mayor, you can live with that, huh?”

You wrapped her in your arms, looking into her eyes the way you always did. Your love hadn’t changed. You had meant it when you said you would never leave her side. That nothing she could ever do would cease your love.

She wasn’t used to love in such an unconditional way. For someone to risk everything to be with her. Your friends, your morals, all of that was on the line. But you loved her. You needed her. Of course you would choose her. To stand by her.

You cupped her cheeks. Palms stroking either side of her face. You leaned in, pressing your lips to hers. It was slow and so gentle. Caressing her with such meaning. Full of your unending love. Your lips moved against hers in such doting display of affection. This kiss told her you would never leave. Never turn from her just because of her mistakes. Choices.

She wasn’t used to such tenderness. She was so overcome with emotion. You meant everything to her.

You would still help your friends and act as you always did. You wouldn’t help the Mayor although you had met him several times now. Under Faith’s protection. You would just be by her side. You loved her, how could you not?

You sat in the library, mostly silent now. You were still your usual friendly self but it you were just a lot quieter. They had been discussing Faith. Again. And you hadn’t really been listening until Buffy’s voice could be heard louder than the rest.

“Yeah, well, now she’s gone total psycho-gal there’s nothing we can do” Buffy said and the force of her words made you wince. You had audibly gasped without realising and everyone looked at you awkwardly. Realising what they had said. How fresh this must be for you.

“I’m sorry, Y/n, we’re here if you need to talk” They mistook your discomfort for heartbreak. And you let them. Just nodding in reply.

Truth was, you were counting down the minutes. Until you saw her again. You couldn’t help it. No matter how your choices now conflicted, she meant everything to you.

You had been daydreaming again. Of the way she enjoyed to slide a hand around your shoulder so that she could lean in closer and press a kiss to the side of your face. How she could whisper things in your ear. Sometimes teasing and too dirty to ever repeat, sometimes unbelievably soft things that could make you blush just as big.

Finally, it was the best part of the day. The bell went and you rushed out of the exit as soon as you could. Straight to her. You heart would beat faster the closer you got to her.

You smiled at her, entering her new place. It was plush and although you knew how she got it, you couldn’t help but enjoy it with her.

She kissed you on the lips, that smirk on her face that she did with the side of her mouth when she had you alone. She was exited to see you, had been alone most of the day. She lead you to her bed, pressing a few kisses to your mouth between the run-down of her day.

You lay in bed together as she showed you the large plasma tv that hung on the wall opposite. You loved it when she was excited this way. You didn’t get to see it often. Her showing you the items she had never owned before. You loved how fun she could be. You settled against her. Just cuddling and sharing your thoughts on the day until you decided to turn to watch the tv.

Your hand rubbing slowly against her upper arm. She enjoyed the sensation. Enjoyed the way nothing had changed for you. You really did still love her. You scooped her into your arms, holding her into you further.

You only wanted to spend time with her. Wanted to make her feel so very loved. She felt herself physically relax. Her jaw loosening, shoulders relaxed.

She grinned at the way you cuddled up to her. She began pressing slow kisses against your neck. Your hand slid to weave between her hair. The way you always did when she got this way. She really loved you. Wanted to show you at any opportunity.

Her body heat and yours, skin against skin. It was pure bliss when it was just the two of you. There was no good or evil. No right or wrong. Just this deep, all-encompassing connection.

She used to use people for sex and then move on so quickly. Before she had found happiness. Before she had found you.

Having you didn’t change her choices or that she had changed sides. But it did change how she felt about herself. She still had your love, your affection. You couldn’t leave her side despite the fact she knew you didn’t agree with her choices.

She moved, your embrace loosening as she pressed herself into you further, one hand now guiding your jaw to face her properly. So that she could kiss your lips fully. You grasped at the strands of hair weaved between your fingers, pulling her closer still.

It was bliss.

That was, until an uninvited visitor arrived. Buffy had kicked the door in as Faith had rolled over so that she was above you in bed.

You both looked over to the door, eyes widened. You had been caught out. Nobody had known about your continued relationship, you had kept it well hidden.

Both of your eyes widened from your compromising position. There was no way you could just explain this away.

“Oh my God, what is happening?!”

“Yeah, guys, could the Hellmouth finally be giving us opposite day?”

“Well, that would make me the good Slayer and you the-”

“You’re not bad” You hissed in her ear as she slid from the position she had been in to sit on the edge of her bed. Staring at the intruders. She felt so vulnerable. So scared they were going to take you from her.

“No way! No way would they give you the time of day now that you’re bad-”

“Please, don’t wig, we’re just… I couldn’t just leave her! She’s not a bad person!”

“Oh, right, she convince you of that between the soulless gropy-ness?”

“Didn’t realise there was a big book of big, bad deception now that we don’t know about. She lend you a copy?” Buffy said, her tone harder than she had ever directed at you before.

“It does kinda seem like she’s clouded your brain with… smooches” Willow added, looking at the floor. She didn’t like confrontation.

“She’s been there for me when nobody else-”

“We’re your friends! All she’s ever done is wrecked your life!”

“Yeah, Y/n, didn’t know you could even consider moving over to the dark side” Xander said, trying to aim for light hearted but it quickly rounded into sounding accusatory. As if they were all so disappointed in you.

That it had been expected of Faith, that she was a ticking time-bomb. But they drew the line at you being ‘dragged down’ to her level.

“Hey, it didn’t mean anything, okay? I just, it was just to end it. Get it outta our system, y’know? Right, y/n/n?” Faith offered. The group still didn’t like this and would likely not let you off for a month, but it meant you would at least get them back as friends eventually.

She didn’t ever want to be the reason you lost your friends. Not over her, she didn’t feel like she was worth it at all. You gave her a look and she nodded once, showing that it was okay. That she understood.

Her eyes were glassy and you had never seen her cry before. She was always so strong. Never wanted you to see her emotional, to admit it. But you could tell that over this – over you, her eyes were welling up.

“No” You said suddenly. Everyone’s faces a picture of shock. They couldn’t believe that you, of all people could be so firm about this despite everything you knew about Faith and what she had done.

You moved to stand by her side, your hand slid into hers. You squeezed slightly, showing her you meant this. That you would always be here, no matter what. That you loved her because of who she was no matter what choices she had made.

“I love Faith. I don’t care anymore, I choose her. I’ll always choose her.” You insisted, “A-and if this isn’t the ‘right’ choice then… then I don’t want to be good anymore”

There was a stony silence where you felt the tension rising uncomfortably. The room that had been glowing with love was now heating with anger. Disapproval. Near-hatred for your words.

They were angry with you. Their faces at different levels of seething. You, doing this, was a worse betrayal to them than to Faith switching sides. You suddenly felt unsafe with them where you never had before with your friends. You stepped back, unconsciously. Trying to shield yourself from them with Faith.

How could friends of yours change their mind of you so easily?

“Then you choose to be beaten. I can’t promise I won’t fight you if it means doing what’s right - and I mean properly right” Buffy warned. But for today, with this devastating blow – of losing you as a friend in their eyes. They just left.

Left you with Faith, which would never be a penance to you. You adored her. She instantly moved to your side, she had left a little space in case your proximity would have created a worse argument.

She never wanted you hurt. She comforted you, enveloping you in her arms. Walking you back to the bed. Your safety. Just you and her. The idea of losing your friends had devastated you. You felt pushed out, hated. You couldn’t help how deeply you felt for Faith. You knew you would do the exact same thing over again.

You had meant it. You had made your choice. You chose Faith. Always.

[suckishima]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 402

I just opened up the first chapter to do a reread of everything from the beginning and I can’t believe I forgot that this quote is literally the first panel of the entire series. And the way the quote is then spread across those four pages in Chapter 402 makes me crazy, so excuse me while I ramble on about it under the cut

So I think this kind of goes without saying - but the fact alone that the series is bookended by this same quote right at the beginning, and throughout the final chapter just solidifies that it’s meant to be the core theme of the series. But it’s the way that the quote is presented the second time that really makes an impact to me.

At face value, as the opening line of the series, it’s just introducing us as the audience to the basic rules and concepts of volleyball. The teams are separated, there’s a ball, and neither team can let it touch the ground. It takes up a single panel and features nameless players diving, giving their all to try and keep the ball in play. It’s almost purely expository, there’s no emotion involved in the way it’s presented. (Except, arguably, the decision to bold the word “connect,” but I’m gonna come back to that later).

Then, as we read the series, we just come to learn the practical truth of these rules as they were presented to us. We meet other teams, play against them, and the whole time the idea of “connecting” the ball to your teammates, is slowly also framed as “connecting” the ball to the other side as well. If you botch a receive and it goes back over the net, it’s a chance ball for the other team to attack instead. The series is constantly bombarding us with imagery of the importance of every single action being connected to the next, first just physically in terms of passing the ball - but also themes of communication, friendships, and rivalries are brought into it too - emotionally connecting is just as crucial to winning as physically connecting is (BOTH of these are why they lose to Seijoh at Inter High). And the series shows us this both directly (Nekoma’s team banner being “connect” and their team emphasizes defense to make them strong), and more indirectly (Kageyama is well-renowned as a great player, but he doesn’t become phenomenal until he connects to his teammates emotionally and learns to communicate better). (I could tangent on about this for a while, but I’ve already sort of made a post about it here, so I won’t go on too long on this point).

So, when we get to Chapter 402, we’re already emotionally involved, we know the importance of the rules because we’ve been following them, living within in them for the last four hundred chapters. The quote starts small - that panel of Hinata and Kagayema’s backs that just say “Haikyu... also known as volleyball,” is the very bottom corner of a much larger spread, it functions as a sort of introduction or a lead in to the next three pages.

Then, the next two page spread and we’re finally seeing the opening play between Argentina and Japan at the Olympics. The whole right side of the page is dedicated to Oikawa’s serve and the “two teams separated by a net...” is lingering in the readers mind, with Oikawa of course representing the “other” team. Most of this whole spread serves to show us those original rules being put into action, but now instead of nameless players we aren’t emotionally invested in, they’re players that we know and understand - we feel the gravity and the scale of the game they’re playing, but at the same time it almost feels nostalgic. 

And something else that I think is really interesting, is that even though the quote on this spread starts with “two teams being separated by a net...” the net itself is nowhere to be seen on the page (other than the small panel at the right, where the emphasis is on the crowd and you can’t tell the teams apart anyway). From a practical standpoint, we know the net is there, but since we never see it visually, we’re already feeling how the theme of “connection” goes beyond just the players on “our” side of the net.

Then, the bottom left panel has Hinata and Kageyama’s backs to us again as the rush past each other in a way that’s very familiar to us now - the way they’re drawn to look like they’re going fast, and they aren’t looking at each other but are clearly on the same wavelength because of the framing - we know they’re about to do the freak quick. "Once it is in the air, a team has no more than three touches...” the words overlay it, but instead of going right into the next action, we flip the page and there’s only two words: “...to connect...” and the ENTIRE spread is just all of the characters who have made an impact on Hinata and Kageyama. The action just cuts out for a second and we’re left with this incredible visual of everyone they’ve connected with, and shown in instances of importance too - and the quote never stopped being about volleyball. The reader just pauses for a moment and takes in that it wasn’t just hard work that got them there - yes they learned to receive, set and spike, but they learned to connect to each other too. And I just love that the word “connect” has been bolded in both versions of the quote - its importance has been there all along, we just weren’t really aware of it yet.

The last page of the quote then shifts back to the game, and we get to see the results of Hinata and Kageyama’s connection specifically. The panelling here is some of my favorite in the whole series, the way the freak quick is portrayed is just phenomenal. Kageyama and Hinata separated by the break in the panel so we can see both of the faces, but the ball is the same. It makes us feel like they aren’t really separated at all, and using the ball as a visual representation of their connection I think is so simple and so powerful, AND it doubles as just a practical effect to show us how fast the ball had to move to get there.

The quote ends with the bit about attacking, and of course, they scored, but at this point it’s become clear that it was never really about that. It’s about the connections they made that allowed them the opportunity to score in the first place. Through each other, and everyone else they’ve met along the way, they got to keep playing.

This is also the first time we’ve seen the net since the match started, and when we do see it, it’s from the angle of Hinata’s eye as he looks over the top of it. Which, imo is another direct reference to the next quote from the very first chapter: “The view from the top. It’s something I could never ever see on my own. But maybe... just maybe... if I wasn’t alone... I might be able to see it.” The proof is all right there. He isn’t alone anymore, he can see the view from the top and he’s seeing it from the highest level in the world.

[ironmandeficiency]

internal bleeding

pairing: kix / mechanic!reader

word count: 2425

summary: work can be dangerous, even for someone who barely leaves the star cruiser.

a/n: i’m hitting three birds with one stone with this one!! not only is this shitpost prompt #1 AND a separate request i got a few days ago, but the 14th was my bestie @morganas-pendragons​ ‘s birthday!! have a little kix, kayla, as a late bday treat

warnings: getting kinda crushed by a ship, fives being a dumbass

the guys had just arrived back on board the resolute from what you heard was an almost too easy campaign. despite the lower than normal admittances to the medbay, there were still plenty of ships to tend to with varying amounts of damage.

your normal drill on days like this one was to work like hell until kix was relieved of duty for the night, then go with him to his bunk and let the both of you sleep out your exhaustion in the comfort of each other’s arms. the next morning before you were both summoned to your duties would be spent catching up on each other, letting the worries melt away as you chatted about everything and nothing all at once. it was a system that you both adopted soon after you started dating, one that you were extremely grateful for.

it was nights like that where you were able to see your boyfriend vulnerable in a way he couldn’t show often. if the campaign was more rough than usual, then you were able to hold him and remind him just how wonderful of a man he is. you hated to see him hurting but took comfort in the fact you were always able to bring him back to you, back to his brothers.

thoughts of laying in kix’s loving arms keep you blissfully distracted during the later hours, when the rest of your fellow mechanics had already retreated to the bunks for the night. others thought your late hours spent under various ships were because of your dedication to the cause, but they didn’t know about you and kix. you worked hard so your medic was safe, so his brothers were safe.

those reasons were what had you under general skywalker’s delta-7b aethersprite at some unholy hour of the night. your reputation preceded you, and after some good words put in by torrent company, you were able to become the only person besides general skywalker himself allowed to make repairs on it.

it was a strenuous job sure, what with how the jedi knight wore down his ships, but you enjoyed your work and felt honored to be respected at such a high level.

that is, you enjoyed it when the jacks holding the ship up weren’t breaking while you under the damned thing. you heard the telltale creaking of the jacks while your entire body was on the ground below it. you were never more grateful that chet had convinced you to use one of the rollers.

with all the speed your half-conscious body could muster, you walked your feet forward as fast as you could from under the delta and thought you were home free, but then an excruciating pain erupted in your left arm. the ship was on top of the limb and the weight was no pain you’d ever felt in your life. you were certain your scream should have gotten somebody’s attention, but it seems that you’re all alone.

your comm was, unfortunately, on the wrist of your crushed arm and on the off chance that it wasn’t busted beyond repair, you couldn’t communicate with the thing regardless because the buttons were out of reach.

maybe if the surveillance team would see you eventually but you doubted it. there was no way in the galaxy you were going to let yourself be bested by a damn ship though, so you got to yelling for someone to help you and hoped you wouldn’t lose your voice before help came.

--------

“kix, i know for a fact you haven’t slept in at least two days. get your ass outta here or i’m gonna call your girl in here and have her drag you out.”

“i’m not gonna leave when there’s still so much left to do.”

“you’ve done plenty, vod-”

“coric, i-”

kix wasn’t sure who had a hold on his arm but suddenly he was being dragged out of the medbay, and his body was too weak to resist the familiar grip. “vod, you’ve got a pretty woman waitin’ for ya and she’d hate to see you working yourself to death like this. let’s head to the barracks-”

“no,” kix mumbles, “she’s waiting for me in the hangar, it’s what we always do.” to be frank, kix isn’t completely honest how he’s able to form a coherent sentence with how tired he is. fives says nothing, just nods and takes a turn towards where you were waiting.

the closer the brothers got to the hangar, the more they heard it. they weren’t completely sure what “it” was, but it was a little worrying. the noise kept repeating itself and when they were closer, it sounded… human. they were yelling, and were they crying too? it was hard to tell from here.

warning bells were ringing in their heads and any tiredness kix had before was shoved down deep as they ran to investigate the source of the noise.

if you weren’t in so much pain you would have thought to keep track of the time you spent under the ship. your arm was in a strange limbo of total numbness and almost blinding pain and you couldn’t even focus on your surroundings because all of your focus was on the pain.

no one was listening, no one had been for the past however long you’ve been laying there. your throat was raw from screaming and you began to sob, which didn’t exactly help your throat. you weren’t completely certain when your sobbing began to contain cries for help but what you did know was that the longer you were under this ship, the worse the damage would be.

several more minutes of sobbing and screaming and nothing. not a soul cared that you were pinned down. you were doomed to spend the rest of your days under general skywalker’s ship, forever known as the mechanic whose love for her work killed her.

but wait a minute, were those footsteps? or was it the pounding of blood in your ears?

the two soldiers enter the hangar and their eyes nearly fall from their skulls when they identify your body in such a precarious spot under the bright yellow ship

“cyare! sweetheart, what happened?!”

their feet pound hard on the durasteel floor towards where you were pinned, fear the dominant expression on both of their faces. kix has never seen you cry out of something that wasn’t laughter, and he didn’t think he’d ever be ready to see his headstrong cyare temporarily defeated by a hunk of metal.

“kix, help me get this off her!” fives yelling for his help and the sobs from your throat snapped him back to reality as he helped lift the ship just enough for you to move to the side enough to free your arm.

it almost hurt worse now that the weight was gone which made no sense. once you were free, the men dropped it with a clang and kix was immediately hovering over you, examining the wounded limb. he quickly notices the way your veins are swelling and the unnatural angle of your wrist and is brought to two conclusions: there’s some sort of internal bleeding in your arm that needs to be taken care of immediately, and you have a broken wrist.

“what’s the damage?”

“internal bleeding and a broken wrist. could have been worse but this is a bitch of an injury.”

“internal bleeding? isn’t that where the blood’s supposed to be?”

you wanted so bad to laugh at the stupid joke, it was one of the worst ones you’ve ever heard from him. the most you could muster is a sob-laugh accompanied by a shake of your head. you’d give him the proper laughter later when you weren’t in blinding pain.

fives is watching worriedly as his vod unzips half of your jumpsuit, using the sleeves to tie your arm to your torso. he knows that as a mechanic, your hands and wrists are crucial for your job. would you be let go for this? oh gods, what if you had to leave the resolute? kix would be absolutely crushed without you.

whispering a soft apology in your ear, he lifts you into his arms and begins to run to the medbay as fast as his legs could go. the jostling irritated the wound and brought the tears down harder, and with every step kix was cooing gently and giving choked apologies for hurting you.

“i thought i told you to leave, k- holy shit, what happened?!”

“she was working in general skywalker’s delta when the jacks collapsed and the ship fell on her!”

“there’s a free bed over here!”

coric was struggling to comprehend you crying, that just wasn’t something that happened. ever. he would have continued down this rabbit hole of “holy kriff” but kix was beginning to shout orders. he literally just kicked this man out of the medbay moments ago, this isn’t going to fly. not even - no, especially when the patient is his cyar’ika.

coric and fives could tell that kix’s hands were shaking from several feet away. whether it was because of you, his ongoing lack of sleep, or both, neither of them were sure. a silent plan was devised and fives was soon pulling kix backwards away from you. he was struggling in the arc’s hold, yelling about how he had to be there, how he wasn’t going to leave you. coric was then able to bring the needle to his vod’s neck and pushed in the sedative.

fives gently sat his brother in one of the sparse guest chairs and pulled a second chair next to kix’s. you two weren’t going to be alone, not through something like this.

you woke up connected to machines you knew the names of and how to fix, but not why they were attached to you. then you tried to move your arm and you remembered exactly why in seconds, your eyes seeing spots with the pain. it was nowhere near as bad as it was when you were still under the ship, but it was terrible for just waking up.

then you tried to lift your other side and panicked when you couldn’t move your entire right side. that wasn’t where you were hit, what gives? then you recognized the anti-droid aurebesh and lightning bolt designs and let yourself calm down.

it was just kix, and he was curled around you like a tooka kitten trying to steal warmth. his hands held your right one to his chest, his forehead pressing against your shoulder while the rest of his body was curled up to make itself as tiny as possible. even in sleep, kix was always putting your comfort first.

not wanting to wake him, you decided to gently trace the designs in his hair and count down the minutes until you could kiss him like you’ve been wanting to ever since he left for the planet’s surface.

a throat clears from kix’s other side and you poke your head up with confusion. why was fives there? did he even sleep last night? didn’t look like it.

the arc trooper could see the question forming on your lips and answered it before you could say a thing. “i uh, i didn’t want either of you to be alone when you woke up. i hope that’s okay.”

“that’s more than okay, fives. it’s really sweet of you.”

“yeah it was a guessing game as to which one of ya would wake up first,” you raised an eyebrow as to why they’d be unsure of whether you or kix would be up before the other. “he was frantic when we brought you in, nearly punched coric when he told him to move away from you. had to sedate him to get him down.”

you gasped at the revelation and turned to press a soft kiss to your boyfriend’s crown. it was still jarring to know that you had someone that would fight tooth and nail for you, despite having been with kix for nearly a year. but for him to be given a sedative because he was so violent in his need to help you? it was bizarre. violent was never a word you thought would describe kix, but trying to punch his brother seemed to fit under that category.

he stirred next to you and his hands tightened their grip on yours, his forehead pressing a little harder against your shoulder. a few grumbles came from his throat as he awoke, eyelids droopy as he raised his head.

“are you okay, cyare?” this was more like the kix you know, always putting others above himself from the moment he’s awake.

you hummed and continued to trace his lightning, nodding in reply. “yeah, because you saved me.” he smiles and places a gentle kiss in the palm of your hand before lacing his fingers with yours.

“i helped a little, i think.”

“fuck off, fives.” your boyfriend mumbled groggily as he wrapped himself around you, burying his face in your neck.

“i did!”

it hurt a little less to laugh now and your boyfriend seemed to lose a bit of the tension from the night’s previous events. you smiled and felt kix curl even closer to you, legs tangling with yours like they do every time you share a bed. “thank you fives, your heroism is most appreciated.”

kix chuckled into your skin and began to leave soft kisses on the skin there. “now leave us alone, dumbass. i need some time with my girl.”

fives chuckles and rises from the chair that served as his bed the night prior, patting your leg as he walked by the cot you were laying in. “no funny business in the medbay, you two!” he jokingly wagged a scolding finger at you both.

“oh, get kriffed!”

fives’s head was the only thing visible to you now, a smirk on his face in spite of the somber mood he was in prior to your waking up. “that seems to be your goal, vod!”

your medic grabbed the nearest projectile and hurled it at his head, fives yelping as he ducked barely a second before a datapad stylus speared him in the eye. “thought he’d never leave,” kix jokes. you chuckle at the ribbing and let yourself rest. there was a lot of healing to be done before you’d be back to working shape, you knew that, but having your kix beside you would make it all the easier.

happy late birthday, kayla!!! love you bunches!!!

[mightiestheroes]

Hey there! May I ask for an angsty piece of Geralt x Reader with prompts 4 and 7? Unrequited love and all that🥺 i’m ready to get hurt

Thank you for the request! I don’t write angst very often but I hope I met your expectations 💙

4. “Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture.”

7. “You can’t leave.”

You promised yourself you would never fall in love ever again. You’ve been hurt so many times that you felt like your heart couldn’t take any more. So you’ve hidden behind your wit and sarcasm and tried so hard not to let anyone in. But of course it changed the moment you met Jaskier and Geralt. You felt the connection right away and you weren’t sure how it happened but you all agreed to travel together. You were great with a sword but also had some healing abilities so you were a good addition to their little team. At first you were happy that you bonded with them on a true friendship level and no other feelings were involved. You’ ve had so many amazing adventures together and it seemed like you were meant to meet and “work” together. 

But of course after one of the most dangerous fights when Geralt almost died your feelings changed. You were shocked and beyond terrified that you could lose him. You were worried for Jaskier too but you realised those two feelings were different. From that moment you were in constant battle with yourself, you didn’t want to feel that way especially when Geralt seemed to send you so many mixed signals. You still blush when you think about that one time when the night was extremely cold and you were shivering so hard, your teeth chattering. You obviously couldn’t fall asleep and next thing you know, Geralt is laying his bedroll next to you and without asking or hesitation wrapped himself around you to warm you up. It felt amazing and you fell asleep almost immediately. When you woke up in the morning he was gone. You tried not to get your hopes up but it happened anyway. You were so curious if it meant something for him but he was his stoic grumpy self as always, behaving like it was a completely normal thing to do and you should just go on with your lives. When you tried to chat with him he just grunted in response so you gave up. 

You weren’t sure Jaskier noticed your little crush and you decided it was better for him not to know. It was your secret hidden deep inside. You felt like every time you got over it, the Witcher did something to make you think about him again. Like that time when you fell off your horse and lost your consciousness. When you woke up, he was at your side, tending to your wounds and you could swear you saw worry in his eyes. 

“What happened?” You asked confused and he looked at you briefly.

“Something scared your horse and you fell down, hit your head pretty hard.” He replied softly and you felt him squeeze your hand. He cares. You thought feeling warm inside. 

“Oh Melitele, (Y/N)! You scared me! I’m so glad you are okay!” It was Jaskier coming rapidly to hug you and caress your other hand. 

“It’s okay, Jask. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” You smiled at him and he sighed smiling back. 

You recovered quite quickly and you hit the road again. One night you agreed to stay in an inn that held small festivities. Jaskier was asked to sing so he was delighted. You sat with Geralt drinking some ale and you were grateful for a moment alone with him. You didn’t have to talk much, you’ve learned his moods and expressions quite well to communicate. Your peaceful moment got disturbed by a man approaching your table. 

“Hello my lady, I am Radko. May I offer you some fine wine?” He asked nonchalantly and smiled at you. You had to admit he was handsome with a beautiful and charming smile. You felt Geralt shift beside you and you turned to  see him glaring  at the man. It boosted your confidence but you weren’t interested in strangers.

“That is very kind of you but I am all good here, thank you.” His smile faltered but he wasn’t persistent. He bowed his head and walked away. Geralt shifted again and seemed to relax but you tried not to read anything into that. You were about to ask him if he was okay when the door opened and he visibly froze. There was a beautiful woman with long black locks. His breath hitched and you were confused. The mysterious woman sat down in a corner and Geralt immediately stood up.

“I’ll be back later.” He said not even looking at you and went to sit beside her. They seemed to know each other and you had to admit you felt hurt. You were stupid to think he would care about you that much and maybe have some feelings. You saw the way he looked at her. In that moment Jaskier finished his singing and came to you to drink something and rest. He got a bit worried when you didn’t speak up or mock his performance.

“Everything okay, (Y/n)?” He asked and when you didn’t respond he followed your line of sight. “Oh…” Was all he said when he realised what was going on. 

“Why am I so stupid, Jask?” You asked suddenly angry with yourself.

“Hey, hey… You’re not stupid, okay? He is the one being stupid for not seeing what treasure he already has.” The bard put his hand on yours in support. You closed your eyes to block the view but it was already burned into your brain. You were so mad at yourself for letting it happen again. You promised yourself and you failed. 

“I can’t do this, Jaskier.” You said suddenly and the bards’ brows rose in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” He asked with a frown.

“I can’t deal with all of that again. I can’t do this to myself.” You explained hoping he’d understand. “I think this is it for me. I heard there is a healer in the next village and she needs help. I’m going to go stay with her.” You added casting your eyes downward trying to stop the tears. 

“Fuck… No, that’s not right…” Jaskier panicked, he cared about your friendship deeply and didn’t want to lose you. 

“But I have to, don’t make it harder, Jask. You know I love you but I have to take care of myself. This is for the best. And my door will always be open for you, remember that. Take care of him, will you?” You teared up but got up and kissed Jaskier on the cheek which was also wet. 

“Be careful, (Y/N). Don’t do anything stupid without me and I promise I’ll come visit you as much as I can…” He promised and squeezed your hand when you gathered your things and started to leave. You went past Geralt who was fully focused on his friend and got out of the inn heading for your horse. The Witcher sensed you and your tears and turned around to look for you but failed. He excused the woman and went to Jaskier. His stomach twisted when he noticed he was crying. 

“What’s going on? Where is (Y/N)?” he asked, trying to remain calm. 

“Fuck you, Geralt.” The bard mumbled and glared at the white haired man. Geralt was filled with confusion and decided to look for you on his own. He left the inn and was happy to find you by the horses.

“Oh, there you are. What did you do to Jaskier?” He asked, trying to be funny for once. But his humour vanished when you turned at him with tears and anger in your eyes. 

“What’s going on?” Geralt was beyond confused and worried.

“I’m leaving.” You stated simply and turned to your horse.

“What? Why? You can’t leave us.” His eyes were wide and pleading.

“Stop torturing me!” You said in a raised voice which surprised him.

“What are you talking about? I am not torturing you!” 

“Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture…” You said quietly and looked down. It took him a few seconds to connect the dots. 

“Oh, (Y/N)... I didn’t know… I….”

“Don’t. I don’t want your pity. Go back to that woman, I’ve seen the way you looked at her. And I’m not going to watch it and pretend I don’t care. It’s time for me to move on and take care of myself. Good luck, Geralt.” It took all your strength to say that and get on your horse. You looked at him one last time to see him speechless and maybe scared? But you didn’t want to think about it. You took a deep breath and rode off. You think you heard him shouting your name and cursing but you didn’t dare to check it.

SEE MY PROMPT LIST

ALREADY WRITTEN

[satansbooks]

Obey Me Headcanons

Reader is gn also winchester.

warnings: swear words. I don't know what to put in this. it's my first time actually so definitely be prepared of messy writing and some grammar mistakes?

a/n: hey! I hope you like it since I started watching supernatural again. I thought why don't I give it a try. I didn't add belphegor since this headcanon/fic takes a place in the first month of the whole exchange program. ✨here you are✨

word count: 1,7k

summary: reader is the youngest sibling of winchesters, end up in devildom.

okay so, you and your brothers were after a stupid shapeshifter for two weeks now and let me tell you that, being in a same car with your annoying brothers for two weeks without getting any rest to deal with them was sucked.

this shapeshifter (you guys were guessing he was an alpha since he was fast and wasn't struggling with shifting.) was homicidal maniac to be honest. he killed more than thirty children in a two weeks row and they were so random. like he was killing for fun. there were not any pattern or connection between them.

town to town, city to city. you and your brothers chased him non stoppingly. your body was craving for some bed to sleep on. or a pillow. or anything that is soft and resting. these leather seats were hella uncomfortable.

and still, still you had a very little information about him. he was leaving lots of trace for you to find him. he seemed like he was enjoying your little chasing game. well that makes one. because you were this close to lose your shit.

you were watching stars from your side of the car window while driving (the road was soo empty. you were sure you could drive with your eyes closed). your older brothers music was keeping you company on a low sound level to not to wake them up. normally Dean wouldn't trust you with his car but he was tired. after all he was driving for two weeks with a very little rest. he needed some sleep. at least more than six hours. and Sam, well he just likes sleeping and napping.

so when your vision blurred suddenly you act quick to pull over. without any second you found yourself in a room. it was like a court room with eight chairs. different animal shadows was painted on the walls behind the court chairs. dark decorations and purple&black flags all over the place. only some candles were lighting the whole room.

spooky?

later you found out you were in devildom as an exchange student for a whole year just because some fancy underground elite wanna show off to three realm that he's the one and only king that can bring peace and serenity. you were his little experiment.

anyone could tell you were beyond being angry. you were frustrated. and nothing, nothing you do could change that.

or you thought...

he knew keeping you under his control would be hard so he decided to do what he can do best.

dealing.

if you could stay here without giving him or the house of lamentation any trouble for a month, he was going to release you. but he was sure you would want to stay here after you spent a month. (he knew thanks to barbatos..)

you didn't say anything to him. you knew your brothers would come to get you before that. even if it means they have to destroy whole "devildom". you were sure. also you didn't have anything to use against these demons except your tattoo (which would only work if one of them wanna take over your body.) so the best option was keeping your mouth shut and agreeing with them. you just had to wait for a month.

first night was hard.

not that it got any easier for some time.

you couldn't sleep but who could have blame you. you were in hell. it doesn't matter which fancy name they were calling it. it was hell. the sulphuric smell was unbearable and of course you only had silver knives with you (you were carrying them in your shoe. they were kinda small but since a lot of creatures has a weak spot for silver the size didn't matter. you wished it could harm demons too) so you were unarmed.

they seemed nice tho. they were kind to you (most of the time) especially Beelzebub. so you thought to give them a shot. what could have happen worst?

Lucifer realized the runes you used to seal your room when he was bringing some paper work to your room about exchange program.

these kind of runes were useless here. but he didn't want to say anything to you, clearly you needed them.

Mammon was your 'first' guy. he was with you on your way to RAD and also in your classes. (Lucifer made sure that you two have the same class schedule) eventually you started talking with him because it was impossible not to. he was charming, talkative and funny. you would be lying if you said you wouldn't enjoying his company during your time with him. (especially after the whole pact thing. it only brought you two closer.)

you were quick to remove all runes in your room after that.  because you and mammon started watching movies together. sometimes Beel and Levi would join you.

and when you were not, you were with Asmodeus.

your father was trying to keep a balance between his kids and his hunting business, most of the time you were with your brothers. they were pretty protective over their younger sibling. that actually explained why you didn't have any friends.

so when asmodeus asked you to come shopping with him you were slightly shocked?

yeah, of course you and your brothers went to shopping but it was because of some necessity not for fun or spending your time.

but your nervousness passed quickly around him. he was lovely, and so very kind. you actually liked how straightforward he was. and this little "shopping sprees" turn into your things.

your first and genuine interactions with all of the brothers were on a dinner.

they were trying to scare mammon by using the so told "ghosts" in their house. they were just joking around but even the thought of them made the second eldest shudder.

you didn't say anything because you were enjoying your well-cooked meal which was from human realm (they decided to put some human world food in their menu in order to make you feel more comfortable)

"there's no such a thing as ghosts!"

Mammon said without waiting more. you could sense the anger mixing with fear in his voice. then you feel a sudden urge to laugh.

"oi, what are ya laughing at human!"

"of course there is Mammon. they're pretty common. I'm sure there is one in this house."

you couldn't stop your laughter. there wasn't anything funny about it actually but come to think of it, he was one of the most powerful demon in three realms and scared of low level creatures like ghosts?

brothers always forgot they actually have a hunter in their houses---

they all asked tons of questions about ghosts and other stuffs you've been hunting.

satan was the most curious one about this topic. he asked you many questions about them after dinner. of course he read all about them but it was just basic informations to be honest. (and they all sounded like a fairytale tbh)

please don't be surprised when he actually arranges some kind of hunting trip with you to examine them closely. lucifer didn't know about that.

but figured it out when two of you showed up to RAD very late, smelling like rock salt and fuel.

you gave him one of your notebooks (you started to take notes about the creatures you're hunting with your brothers just like your father did. you already had four notebooks for now. it was like diary.) to study. he appreciates it. :''

okay here's another thing, your older brothers appetite was something you've never seen before. or you thought before meeting with Beelzebub.

when you met Beelzebub for the first time you didn't mind his eagerness to eat that much. (Dean was your family's Beelzebub lol.) obviously you couldn't eat as much as he does but your company kept him happy.

he was giving you big-bear-hugs whenever you talk about your brothers or how bad you missed them. (he feels you :'))

you two started to go diners or whatever they were calling it so often. he was kind and thoughtful. even invited you to join him for workouts. (since you're not going hunting trips anymore, you decided to join him on gym to keep yourself and your form steady.)

after gym you usually would watch a show called "I'm an unstoppable powerful wizard but still don't know how to fall in love with someone so I'm hunting other creature's to forget about my massive heart-break but it's not really a heart-break." which was a good show to be honest.

thats how you got close with Levi. he already was impressed your skills as a hunter ('they're like, out of an anime!' he thought) so he invited you for long gaming sessions in his room. since you were always in a car. it was difficult first. but you got used to it. (he was good at teaching)

you spent tons of sleepless night with him: watching movies and animes, playing games, reading and re-acting manga scenes.

the most challenging demon to communicate was lucifer. he already met your brothers. and he didn't like them. he had a strong prejudice about you. he thought you were just like your brothers.

but after some time, when you started to get more comfortable around other brothers it also effected your relationship with the eldest.

and it all started with a dumb question.

he was doing some paperwork for lord diavolo with you about the exchange program. when you sighed for the millionth time in an hour. he had no choice but ask what was the problem.

"can you look into my eyes and ask me what do I truly desire?"

he was confused?

"I mean there's a Lucifer in human world who can bring people's darkest desires. so I was wondering if you could do the same."

now he was more confused.

there was a Lucifer in human realm? and what was his ability again?

when you try to explain him and failed over and over again you decided to show him.

and you two started to watch Lucifer.

he actually enjoyed spending some alone time with you.

after a month, your brothers never showed up. you didn't want them to. Lucifer said he taken care of them. and he promised that he didn't hurt them.

even if you missed your brothers too much. you knew one year wouldn't hurt anyone.

after all maybe that 'underground elite' was right. he was the one and only who could bring peace and serenity over the three realms...

and you were very thankful to him.

[haidyn-reeves]

The Thought of Losing You

Summary: This is my spin on 14.02 (Gods and Monsters) and 14.11 (Damaged Goods). 

Prompt: “The thought of losing you scares the shit out of me.”

Pairing: Dean x Female!Reader

Warnings: Season 14 spoilers. Lots of profanity, lots of angst, dollop of fluff.

Word Count: 5,315

A/N: This is my entry for Sabrina @winchesterxfamilybusiness​‘s 250 Followers Writing Challenge! This was my first time writing for Supernatural and ever posting anything I’ve ever written. I hope you like it!

Y/N knew she wasn’t supposed to fall in love with Dean Winchester, but her brain and her heart weren’t exactly on the same page.

There were only so many times she could watch the man she loved and idolized sacrifice himself as if his own life was meaningless. Every time she lost Dean, the pain became more and more unbearable. She grew up alongside the Winchesters, her grandfather being one of the men John Winchester learned his tricks and skills from when he was younger. His dying wish was for John to protect her, and when he passed years later, that duty was passed down to Sam and Dean. The pair didn’t mind, she was family to them. Sam liked being a big brother to someone for a change, and Dean welcomed the days when she would spend time with them so he had someone other than Sam to hang out with. 

It was safe to say Y/N had been there through everything. She was there when Sam died and when Dean made the crossroads deal. She was there when the hellhounds dragged him to hell and when he made his miraculous return months later. She watched the Mark of Cain change him in ways she never imagined, and then hid from his demon alter-ego when he tried to kill her and Sam in the bunker. 

The point is, she was there for every high and low, and she wasn’t sure she had the capacity to handle another low.

In the most cliche turn of events, Y/N developed feelings for the older brother over time. How could she not? He looked after her more than her own father the majority of the time. She idolized him from a young age, thought he was so cool, felt the most at ease around him. Dean was always there and Y/N had no choice but to fall for him, and hard. Of course, in another cliche fashion, she couldn’t dare tell him. He was her best friend and he certainly could do better than what she had to offer. 

The most recent predicament was Michael, the Archangel from another universe who wormed his way into their world with Lucifer. Selfishly, Y/N was relieved when their world’s Michael stopped trying to convince Dean to be his vessel and the angels stopped pursuing him, though she felt bad for Adam. She never imagined she’d find herself in this situation: Dean, saying yes to this new Michael, in order to save his brother and Jack from Lucifer.

Dean dismissed her when he sent Bobby and Mary to the garage. She begged him to let her stay, to let her help, and of course not to do anything stupid, but Bobby pulled her away as soon as Dean’s jaw clenched and that look crossed his handsome face. Usually she could win, that look would fade and he’d be putty in her hands. In that moment, she was scared of him, because the look resembled the murderous glare his demon self threw her way seconds before narrowly missing her with that forsaken hammer.

When Sam and Jack returned to the bunker without Dean, Y/N’s heart stopped and her breath hitched in her chest, a clockwork reaction any time something terrible happened to him. 

“N-no,” she whimpered, looking at Sam through blurry eyes as the tears threatened to fall.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, finding it hard to watch her break over his brother yet again. “Michael…he tricked him and…”

“He disappeared,” Jack sighed. The room began to spin as the dizziness washed over Y/N. She fumbled in place, clutching the back of the chair in front of her at the war table, Sam rushing to her side and gathering her into his arms. 

“We’re gonna find him honey,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure himself or her. He squeezed her tighter as she sobbed into his flannel, wishing he could do more. He wasn’t Dean, he didn’t have the same connection with her as his brother did, and he hated that there was nothing more he could do for her. 

That was almost two months ago.

Over the last nearly eight weeks, Y/N battled between wanting to go out and look for Dean and succumbing to the intense sadness and anxiety over the loss of the older Winchester. She knew she should be out there looking for him, helping Sam, Mary and Bobby. She wasn’t sleeping, and when she did she was plagued with dreams of Michael torturing Dean, because that was all she could think about during the day. She snapped at Jack when she overhead him talking to Castiel in the kitchen during one of the few times she left her room for food. As soon as she heard the words “Dean doesn’t matter” leave the nephilim’s lips, she was at his throat.

“How dare you,” she began, her voice low and shaking as the anger pulsated through her veins. “How dare you say that, considering you wouldn’t fucking be here if not for Dean. He’s done nothing but protect you and give you a home, and you go and say he doesn’t matter? That is his body. He is a prisoner in his own body. He’s trapped in there-“

“Y/N-“ Castiel started. Y/N whipped her head around, glowering at the vessel before her.

“NO, Cas. What he said was un-fucking-called for.” She turned back to the nephilim, disappointment and anger evident on her face. “Look, kid. The world would not be the way it is right now if not for Dean fucking Winchester. He may not matter to you, but he sure as hell matters to me.”

Since then, Jack kept his distance. He never saw Y/N as upset as she was in that moment, and he still didn’t understand why she was so mad at him, because in his mind, he was right. Michael was the enemy, Michael needed to go, Dean be damned.

Sam was growing more and more concerned for Y/N as time went on without any sign of Dean. He knew she wasn’t sleeping, having been the one to wake her from her nightmares and stay with her until she drifted back into a restless sleep, if her mind even allowed it.

“You don’t have to stay with me,” she mumbled one morning when Sam brought her a mug of tea. “I know you want to be out looking for him.”

“I’m leaving in a little bit, do you want to try and come with me?” She shook her head, her eyes again welling up with tears. How she had any left was beyond her. “Its okay, honey. You should try and rest anyway. You’ve had a rough few weeks-“

“But I’m a hunter, Sam. I know better than to act like this. I should be out there looking for him, he’d do the same if it was me-“

“You may be a hunter, but that doesn’t mean you’re not human, Y/N/N. You still have feelings, emotions, and we both know you have very…specific feelings towards Dean. This wasn’t a hunt gone wrong, Dean is missing and you’re hurting because you love him. What you’re feeling, what you’ve been feeling, that’s heartbreak. It’s crippling and it’s brutal and until he’s back, it’s not gonna go away.”

“What if he doesn’t come back Sam?” She hated how small her voice sounded, she couldn’t even deny her feelings to his face. At this rate, every additional body in the bunker had to know she was in love with Dean.

“He’s Dean. He’s died, been dragged to hell…he’s not gonna let some dick angel keep him away from us.” Y/N nodded weakly. “Are you going to tell him?”

“Sam-“

“You have to tell him, Y/N. He has a right to know, he needs to know, maybe then he’d stop sacrificing himself-“

“Your brother wouldn’t know what to do with himself-“

“True, but he’d be happy, with you. He adores you. He deserves to be happy.” Y/N tilted her head to the side, eyebrows cocked. “You know I’m right.”

“We’ll see.”

Sam sighed, pecking her forehead before getting off the bed. “I’m gonna head out, you need anything, you call, yes?” She nodded. “Be good, no yelling at any nephilims today.”

“He deserved it-“

“I know.”

One of the things Y/N wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to was the amount of people now residing in the bunker since coming from the other world. She missed the peace and quiet, but she was extra thankful that her bedroom, like Dean’s, was tucked away from the action. Sure, the bunker was large enough to accommodate the newcomers, and they were all quickly catching on as new hunters, but she longed for the days when the bunker was more of a secret hideaway, not a community center.

In the time Dean was gone, Y/N treated his room like the West Wing. She made sure no one besides herself or Sam ever went in, on the days she got out of bed anyway. Her room was down the hall from his, and since the hallway was generally empty, she could immediately hear when someone was entering his room. The door had a slight creak when it pushed open slowly enough, but Dean insisted he liked it. It sounded “homey.” So when she heard that familiar creak and knew Sam wasn’t home yet, her body was out of her bed and moving down the hall before her mind could register she was even upright. Her feet carried her to the door with the pretty golden eleven, finding it open. She felt her blood run cold as she stepped over the threshold of the room, ready to deliver a verbal beating to whoever dared enter this room of all rooms, before her breath hitched in her chest and she found herself staring at the back of the man she was waiting for.

“D-Dean?”

His shoulders visibly relaxed at the sound of her voice and he turned around, his olive eyes welling up with tears as he took in the sight of her. She was clutching the doorway, her body swimming in his red flannel, dark circles under her pretty eyes as she choked out a sob upon seeing him before her.

“Hi sweetheart,” he whispered, opening his arms as she flung herself forward, crashing against his chest. Her body again shook with sobs as she clutched at the white dress shirt adorning his shoulders, her face buried into the middle of his chest. His arms wrapped around her as he struggled between squeezing her against him and holding her fragile body against his own. Her sobs were muffled screams and he cringed, hating that once again he was the reason she was breaking this badly. He finally allowed his tears to flow and soon he was crying into her hair while trying to calm her down.

“You miss me?” He asked some moments later once her breathing returned to normal and her body stopped shaking.

“No,” she weakly deadpanned, still morphed into his chest. His fingers danced up and down her spine in gentle patterns as he chuckled, placing a kiss to the top of her head. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know, he just…left.”

“He better fucking stay gone,” she growled, “or at least find a new vessel. Got a few ideas.” Dean laughed softly and she pulled back to look up at him, raising her eyebrows. “You think I’m joking?”

“No ma’am.” 

She glared at the term, her eyes growing wide. “Why didn’t Sam call me to tell me he found you?”

“Surprise?” He grinned sheepishly. “He said you were probably resting and didn’t want to wake you. He…he told me how you’ve been the last few weeks and sweetheart, I’m not upset. I’m upset at how much of a toll this took on you but I’m not upset that you weren’t looking for me.”

“I’m sorry Dean, I wanted to-“

“I know, Y/N. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I understand. You were struggling, I couldn’t expect you to push yourself.”

She looked down, still feeling embarrassed over the situation. “I’m sorry for barging in, too. I thought someone was in here that wasn’t you and I got so upset-“

“It’s okay,” he smiled, “I half expected you to be in here waiting for me.”

She blushed and Dean grinned, hugging her to him again. “You probably want some alone time, I should let you get settled in but I really don’t feel like leaving your side at the moment.”

“I’m gonna take a quick shower and I’ll be right back, okay? Promise.” His green eyes were boring into her own, his words serious as the rolled off his tongue. She nodded and he smiled gently, kissing her head again before grabbing his clothes and heading down the hall towards the large communal bathroom.

While Y/N waited, Dean let the hot water run down his tired body, scrubbing his skin raw as he tried to get any trace of the Archangel off of him. He didn’t understand why Michael suddenly left the way he did, but he wasn’t about to get his hopes up that he had seen the last of the celestial being. He stood under the water as his own tears of frustration fell from his eyes. He was angry that he was taken advantage of, tricked into being the vessel for more than he bargained for. He hated feeling like a prisoner in his own body, own mind, not knowing exactly what was going on around him as Michael took control. He missed his brother, his girl, even if she wasn’t officially his. Y/N was everything to him, and after some convincing on his part, Sam revealed that he was everything to her as well. It happened on the drive home when he realized she wasn’t with Sam, and he immediately panicked thinking something had happened to her.

“She’s at the bunker, Dean. She…she hasn’t been doing well.”

“What’s wrong with her?” He breathed, his body going rigged on the passenger’s side of the bench seat.

“She’s just been taking your…disappearance the hardest out of everyone. She doesn’t sleep, she barely eats, she bit Jack’s head off.”

“What did he do?” Sam didn’t want to repeat the words Jack had uttered, because in truth, they pissed him off as well. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words and cause Dean more hurt, he carried enough pain already.

“He said something she didn’t like, honestly he deserved it. She was defending you.” Dean blushed softly, picturing Y/N turning into the spitfire she could be, all because of him. “You know Dean…”

Dean looked at his brother, confused, “Sammy?”

“I shouldn’t,” Sam stopped himself, knowing he was about to break Y/N’s trust.

“You already started.”

“It wouldn’t be fair to Y/N.”

“I won’t say anything, just tell me.”

“She…the reason she was so bad the last few weeks, is because she loves you. Has feelings for you. And you being gone, not knowing where you were, it visibly was destroying her.”

Dean’s eyes widened and his heartbeat sped up in his chest. “She can’t-“

“Why not? Haven’t you seen the way she looks at you, man? She looks at you like you hung the damn moon for her.”

Dean shook his head. “Loving me comes with a price, one she shouldn’t have to pay. It puts a target on her back and she doesn’t deserve that.”

“Dean, it’s pretty obvious you feel the same way she does, you’re being ridiculous. She makes you happy, man. You deserve something good, and Y/N is good.”

Dean wasn’t going to act on this new information, not until he knew Michael was done with him, for good. He couldn’t stomach Y/N hurting over him anymore. Once he knew Michael didn’t have a use for him any longer, he could approach her about the mutual feelings between them. Of course Dean reciprocated them. How could he not? Y/N was beautiful, funny, intelligent. She was everything he could hope for, plopped into his life all those years ago. He raised her to be the third best hunter in the world. She was perfect for him, but he couldn’t put her in danger by simply loving her back.

For a little while, things seemed to be looking up, which was consequently never a good sign when it came to the Winchesters. Just when they thought Michael was possibly out of their lives, he snuck back in and invaded Dean’s personal space all over again. With help from Sam, Y/N and Cas, he was able to take control and lock Michael away in his mind. The problem was, Dean felt like there was a toddler banging on a drum set living in his head. Michael was constantly making a racket, leaving Dean with a perpetual headache while he tried to block out Michael’s incessant demands to be let out of the “cage” Dean locked him away in. It was during this time that Dean made the painful decision to never act on his feelings for Y/N. He wasn’t sure how long he’d survive with Michael taking up residency in his mind, nor did he have any way of knowing that Michael wouldn’t hurt her. 

Sam and Y/N became suspicious when Dean decided he wanted to visit Mary, alone. Since being back, Dean rarely had alone time, though if he was being honest, he didn’t mind at all. In fact, he welcomed the company. Company kept his mind off the tenant upstairs. He spent most of his time resting before Sam decided he could go back out on hunts, and resting usually meant cuddling with Y/N and watching copious amount of Netflix. He was struggling, but he wanted to make sure she was okay as well.

Y/N was reluctant to let Dean go visit Mary alone. When she expressed her concerns for the older Winchester to Sam, Sam agreed that something wasn’t right and the pair decided to make their own drive to Donna’s cabin. 

Which is how Sam and Y/N found themselves standing across from Dean in Donna’s shed, an ominous metal coffin of sorts on the workbench before them.

“What the hell is this?” Y/N asked, her eyes fixed on Dean.

“This is how I’m going to get rid of Michael,” Dean explained, failing to make eye contact in return.

“This isn’t what I think it is,” Sam glowered, beginning to understand what his brother was getting at.

“Someone better explain what the hell this is,” Y/N urged, agitated.

“This is a Ma’lak Box,” Dean began, Sam sighing in anger. “It’s warded to keep an angel inside…including an Archangel.”

“Okay…so how are you gonna get Michael into the box?” Y/N asked, oblivious to the elephant that was in the shed.

“Michael is…inside me. In order to get Michael into the box, I have to get in,” Dean muttered.

“NO!”

“Its the only way-“ 

“BULLSHIT. There is ALWAYS another way!”

“NO THERE ISN’T,” Dean yelled back, “I can feel him breaking free. I can’t hold him much longer, this is the only way, Billie showed me-“

“Dean, we can figure this out. There has to be something else,” Sam tried to reason with his brother. “What happens when you’re in?”

“The plan is to be dropped into the Pacific and buried-“

“The fuck you will,” Y/N seethed. “NO. You’re not doing this.”

“This is why I didn’t tell either of you, you’re the only ones who could try and talk me out of it.”

“So you were just going to disappear again? Be buried alive without a goodbye? Expect us to be okay with this?” Sam was amazed at how dense Dean could be sometimes.

“I said my goodbyes back at the bunker,” Dean sighed. Y/N was staring at him in horror, still trying to process that once again, she’d be losing Dean, but this time for good. Dean looked at her and cringed. “Please say something.”

“You stupid son of a bitch,” she fumed. “You’re so hellbent on sacrificing your own life for the greater fucking good because you’re convinced your life doesn’t mean anything. Well guess what! Your life may not mean something to you but it means everything to me. You don’t have to do this, we can find another way. Fuck what Billie has to say, there is no way this ends with you buried at the bottom of the fucking ocean.”

“I have to do this-“

“No, you don’t,” Sam argued. “We can find something else Dean, anything else, something that keeps you alive, with us.”

“Do you think I want to do this? To either of you? I HAVE to do this. I don’t have a choice-“

“YOU ALWAYS HAVE A CHOICE. YOU TAUGHT ME THAT,” Y/N screamed, the anger simmering under her skin.

“Look, I’m not exactly looking forward to this, okay? I’ve made up my mind, you both need to accept it.”

“We…we have to accept it? Accept that you’re going to be buried in this…this box…with a murderous archangel hitching a ride in your head? Are you out of your mind?” Y/N was amazed at how Dean was so calm about this. “You expect Sam to just let you go? I clearly don’t mean enough to you for you NOT to do this but at least think of your brother.”

“You know that’s not true,” Dean groaned.

“Could’ve fooled me,” she spat, rolling her eyes.

“This won’t solve anything,” Sam barked, shooting a glare to both of them. “You’re not getting in the box, we’ll figure something else out but right now, this discussion is over.”

“You think this is up for debate, Sammy? It’s not-“

“I said, this discussion is over. We will have this conversation when we get home, when we can get Jack and Cas’ input-“

“Oh yeah, let’s clue the nephilim in to the plan,” Y/N snarled, “after all, Dean matters oh so much to him anyway.”

“Excuse me?” Dean glared.

“Forget it,” she mumbled, “I need some air.” She turned on her heel and left the shed, the sight of the box now making her stomach turn. She made her way back to the cabin, hiding around the back out of sight before she allowed herself to slide down the wall into a fit of angry tears. Dean was going to leave her, again, and this time he couldn’t come back. How was she ever going to live with that? Knowing he was at the bottom of the ocean, alone in a box with an Archangel to torment him for the rest of his days? How could she possibly move on from that?

Back in the shed, Sam was pacing. “You’re not doing this,” he decided, pausing his movements to look at his brother. “You can’t do this. Not to me, not to her, not to Mom-“

“I’m doing it to protect you, all of you,” Dean argued. “If I lock Michael away, he can’t hurt any of you or cause more damage to anyone else.”

“This will kill her,” Sam warned, his voice quieter now. “Dean, you can’t-“

“This is what’s best. This is my decision and I’m sticking to it.”

Y/N decided against the wall of Donna’s cabin that she was done. She reached the end of her rope, her patience run bone dry. If Dean wasn’t going to listen to any voices of reason, she was going to make damn sure she would be okay. She could ask Rowena for a spell, something to make her forget she ever loved Dean Winchester. She refused to be a broken shell all over again because he left her, this time willingly. She would take care of herself the way he taught her to.

She emerged from behind the cabin to find the brothers walking out of the shed, Sam looking visibly distraught as he watched Dean head towards the cabin. Dean’s gaze fell on her but she refused to meet his eyes. If she was going to take care of herself, step one was creating distance, putting an end to the bond between them. Dean moved to walk towards her and she stepped back, eyes still on anything but him.  He stopped in his tracks, shoulders falling before he straightened up again, refusing to show any weakness over his decision.

The ride back to the bunker was silent. Y/N wasn’t speaking to either brother, but if she had to, she spoke to Sam. Dean was trying to ignore how hurt he was, but he had to remind himself that this was for the best. He thought she could understand that.

A few days went by and Y/N was avoiding Dean as much as humanly possible. When Sam received word of Donatello, she decided to hang back and make sure the new hunters had a leader while the brothers were out taking care of business. Sam didn’t argue with her, knowing she needed her space from his brother.

When they arrived back in the safety of the bunker, days later, Y/N retreated to her room, going through her things and removing anything of Dean’s from her drawers. She wanted to do it when they first got back from the cabin retreat, but her body physically wouldn’t let her, not yet. Any flannels, shirts, anything she ever wore of his was going back to his room. She didn’t want anything of his around to remind her of him later. She carried the few shirts to his room, barging in and dumping them on his bed.

“What are you doing?” he asked, staring at the pile before him.

“Don’t want them anymore. They’ll just remind me of you when you’re gone, you know, buried and all.”

Dean winced at her words. Reality was starting to sink in, that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t such a good idea, not if it meant a rift between him and his best girl. “Y/N please, we need to talk about this-“

“I think you’ve said enough.”

“I can’t have you hating me, sweetheart. I can’t lose you, not yet. The thought of losing you scares the shit out of me-“

“Don’t you dare fucking say that to me,” she whispered, sounding much less menacing than she wanted to. “Not when I’m the one constantly losing you.” Dean felt his heart break in his chest as he looked at her, seeing all the pain he’d caused her evident on her pretty face. “And I should be used to it by now, but I’m not.” She looked down at the floor, staring at the marbled tile beneath her feet. “Maybe this is my fault-“

“Y/N no, how-“

“Maybe if I told you the truth you’d change your mind. Told you I loved you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone, maybe then you’d want to stay and find another way.”

“I know,” he breathed. “I know you do.”

Her eyes widened and she looked up at him, her cheeks flushing. “You what?”

“I know how you feel about me,” he murmured. “Sam…I forced it out of him when we drove home after he found me. He was so worried about you and he started to let it slip but I forced him to tell me.”

“So…so you know…that…and you still want to…” her voice trailed off, her words failing her as she stared helplessly at him. 

“I was doing it because of that.” He watched her cringe before he realized his mistake. “Oh God, not like that! I mean, I was doing it because I love you, just as much, but I need to protect you from Michael. I told myself I wouldn’t do anything about this…us…until he was gone, but I don’t know when that will be or if it ever will be. I can’t let you get hurt because of me, not like this. I can’t put that target on you.”

“Dean…I know you think it’s your life’s mission to protect everyone, because John gave you that order to protect Sam, but sacrificing yourself? He’d also want you to live, Dean. You deserve everything good this fucked up world has to offer, Dean Winchester. You think your life means so much less than anyone else’s but that’s not true. You’re so important, Dean. Sam and I wouldn’t be here without you. You’ve saved so many lives, changed so many lives. You think you’re this monster of a man who doesn’t deserve happiness when that’s all you’ve ever deserved. You’ve spent your entire life caring for everyone else and making sure everyone else was okay, but right now, you’re not okay, and you need to let me and Sam take care of you. Let us help you find another way, please Dean.” By now tears were rolling down her cheeks the same way they were rolling down Dean’s. “I have watched you overcome and survive incredible feats. I’ve admired your courage and your strength for as long as I can remember. Please don’t stop fighting now, not yet. You have so much more left to do in this world, Dean. Some dick angel from another world is not going to be how I lose you. The world is better with you in it, MY world is better with you in it.”

Dean’s silent tears turned to choked out sobs as he took in her words. This wasn’t the first time she had to remind him of the good in him, and he hoped it wouldn’t be the last. Sam had already gotten to him before they drove home and made him see that there could be another way, that he couldn’t give up, that wasn’t what the Winchesters did. 

“Oh Dean,” she whispered, enveloping him in her arms as he cried, his face buried against her shoulder. She rubbed his back softly as she cried with him, his arms wrapping around her tightly, scared of letting her go.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, “I’m sorry you’re constantly getting hurt by me-“

“No. It is not your fault. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I’m not doing it,” he whispered, his breath hot against her neck. “Sammy…he helped me see how wrong I was…and you…I can’t leave you. Not like that. I love you so much, sweetheart, I’m so sorry for putting you through that-“

“Dean Winchester, if you ever try to pull something like that again…”

“I know,” he nodded. “I’m so sorry baby. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“How?” She asked, Dean lifting his head from her shoulder.

“I don’t know, but I’ll spend the rest of my life figuring it out.”

Y/N blushed, fighting the grin that was spreading across her lips. “You could start with a kiss.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” he chuckled, cupping her cheeks in his hand and wiping the remaining tear drops away with his thumbs. He looked into her eyes, watching the way they sparkled as they stared back into his own. He smiled, leaning down to softly connect his lips with hers. She all but cried as she moved her lips with his, her arms wrapping back around his middle.

“Sammy was right,” he chuckled once he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.

“About what?”

Dean smirked, “You really do look at me like I hung the moon.”

“Oh bite me, Winchester.”