#work + getting distracted and horrible at doing one thing this is almost done i can soon explode...

[puffpawstries]

randomly reblogging this cause I'm almost done with the comic after a long time of working on it,,, I just gotta do another background and some shading and gradients and then type words out then it should be ready! >:]

working on a mini comic....wip

[k0mmari]

SYSTEM! SHEN YUAN AU (Pt.2)

Pt.1

Im not done with this, so to the people that wanted more, here it is! I, fortunately or not, have thought way too much again, so once more this is going to be a very, very, VERY long post. If you guys have any ideas about this btw, please do share them! I really am just letting my mind wander a bit more than usual, so maybe someone else can have more structured thoughts than me lol. (Fair warning, there probably will be plot holes, so sorry in advance!)

Please read Pt.1 if you haven't, or this won't make any sense!

After SY warped away from his impromptu meeting with Binghe, the last place he would like to end up would be even deeper into the Endless Abyss, but according to his System, the next piece of the virus was here. While not happy, since his Personal System was (mostly) working as intended, SY managed to activate Ghost Mode and walk towards the next part without having to deal with any of the creatures down there. (He had to try very hard not to get distracted by the monsters, lest his supervisor thinks he also went missing.)

It takes considerably more time to find the virus this time, so much in fact, SY starts to recognize his surroundings from SQH's ramblings (not that he was interested or anything), and he feels a cold sense of dread running down his spine. There was no way he was that unlucky that the object that got corrupted this time was-

He was that unlocky. Lo and behold, after entering a run down ruin, SY is faced with the legendary Xin Mo, power so overwhelming it manifested as dark fire covering the blade. The only reason why SY wasn't immediately writhing on the ground from the sword's power was Ghost Mode, which he could not rely for too long, as his Personal System was displaying warning after warning about Possibility of Corruption and God Like Plot Point. It all meant that SY was on a timer, and if he took too long, the sword would start corrupting his System, which in turn could corrupt him.

Now, since this was a VERY important Plot Point, Luo Binghe had to find Xin Mo or else the plot would derail to an unfixable degree, SY couldn't just snip at it, which was a problem, since manual debugging took a considerably longer time! Still, he summons his Scissors and positions it so he can start at least trimming off the virus.

His plan immediately backfires however, as an ominous crack sounds through the air and he's suddenly pushed away from the sword by a gust of energy. A bit disoriented, he shakes his head and acesses the sit-

Xin Mo, the horrible sword it was, was apparently so OP that it seemed to detect the Scissors at the last second, and the thing attacked back! The metal of the Scissors was dark and broken where it came close to the sword, almost broken in half! Which, not good! It any other time, a pair of broken Debugging Sheers would be more or less fine, if not a major inconvinience (and pay deduction) for SY, but since he'd been warping all over the time for a while now, his Personal System's energy reserves were carefully rationed, and if he were to use a chunk to send the Scissors back for some emergency repair, he'd only have one chance to go back to HQ. Alone.

He couldn't delay it any longer, he desperately needed to find SQH and pray he still had some energy reserves left.

Setting his Personal System's next warp location to SQH's last known location, SY wouldn't have guessed in a million years that he would go back to Cang Qiong Mountain, but whatever; maybe SQH had wanted to start with fixing the bug on Binghe's pendant? Not that this was the right time since it was after Binghe fell into the Abyss, but SQH had never been good at warping. It takes a bit of wandering and going inside different buildings, but eventually his Personal System managed to get a dirrect ping on SQH's System, which sent a massive wave of relief rushing through SY, since it meant that SQH was still slive.

Though as to why he was at An Ding Peak, SY could only guess.

After a bit more wandering, SY enters on what seems to be a (very messy) office space, SY feels all the pieces coming together in his mind. Half sprawled across the table with piles of paper covering the entire table's surface lay the An Ding Peak Lord, which- was already weird, since wasn't this guy supposed to be an enemy of the Peak now? After the whole betrayal thing or whatever? But that would've been something to look into later, were it not for said Peak Lord casually scrolling through a Personal System screen. A Personal System that could only be used by the System's Maintanence Staff.

SY wastes no time in deactivating Ghost Mode, and when SQH's eyes snap to his, the man jumps so high from his chair he almost falls back. It's not a happy reunion by a longshot, since SY immediately jumped his friend co-worker and demanded an explaination, almost screaming about it was all his fault for doing shitty maintenence, and creating this shitty world if it's shitty OP sword which broke his Sheers? Do you know how expensive these are?? I know you do, cause the supervisor never lets you touch the good ones cause you keep cracking all the other pairs-

It takes a more or less one whole hour to calm down SY, but eventually the younger settled and lets SQH say his bit of the story: Apparently, in his messing around with the System's world creation program when he was trying to find the bug in his world, he'd accidentaly managed to get himself actually transmigrated to PIDW, though still with (limited) acess to his Personal System, which let him still send messages to their supervisor and pretend that everything was ok. He'd gotten so unlucky too! Out of all the people to accidentaly select, did it have to be the An Ding Peak Lord? Couldn't it have been Binghe? Or MBJ- (SQH cuts his lamenting when he notices SY's absolutely viscious death glare being stared right through his soul.)

Long story short, he'd initially did try to fix his blunder, but as more time passed and SQH's access to Maintenance priviledges went out one by one on his System, he eventually just... Started actually living there. In fact, he was living so well there that he dared say his life as Peak Lord was even better then when he was with the System! Of course, since he had been integrated as a 'character' now, he had his limitations, he actually managed to get to know his fellow peak lords! He knew the name of his character's family members and his disciples! He'd managed to build a life he never even thought he could have inside the System.

Sure, did he betray the Peak? Yes, yes he did. Were they all going to die in a few years time when Binghe came back from hell? Yeah, yeah they were, and he was immensely guilty and terrified, but! The plot could be changed! He already assumed someone from the System had popped up in the Conference, as when Binghe had recently made his alliance with MBJ, and had mentioned in passing this weird thing that had happened to him just before he fell into the Abyss.

Anyways, eventually SY begrudgingly accepts SQH's decision to stay in PIDW, but he still had to help SY; and so they form a plan: SY was going to transfer some energy to SQH so he could temporarily get his acess to the full version of his Personal System and use his energy reserves to send SY's Sheers and get them fixed. SQH was also going to properly apologize to their supervisor for suddenly quitting without notice AND order some more energy stacks to be sent to SY's System. SY on the other hand had devises a plan to get closer to XIn Mo without the sword exploding his face off:

Infiltrate Demon Emperor Luo Binghe's palace as a lowly staff member and slowly debug the sword from the inside.

A perfect plan! What could go wrong?

SY selects to warp to a time where Binghe had Xin Mo mostly in control, so it is to no surprise he warps to a place were the Demonic Emperor's Palace is absolutely filled with women. Not the best situation, since a lot of people could and probably would be able to see him, but with that many harem members, it wasn't too much of a stretch to assume there was also a considerable number of staff, which, to SY's luck, there was! In fact, after he managed to activate a disguise for his clothes so they matched the rest of the servants, no one bat an eye on his presence; at most someone would inquire about his short hair, but other than that he was as noteable as a fly.

The first phase of his plan was already a success, so now he had to move on to reconnaissance which was mostly easy and the worst thing in his life. He was mostly looking for Binghe's quarters could be as he probably kept the sword close to him at all times, though with how big the palace was, his objective had gradually shifted to mapping out the labyrinth of halls as much as possible (SY was very glad that the System allowed him to create a map in real time or he might have gotten lost in the first five minutes). He walks so much he even manages to catch a few pieces of gossip, though the most interesting one by far being one about Binghe:

Apparently, a year ago, the Emperor had a qi deviation where, for a day, he seemed to have completely shifted his personality; he refused to touch any of his wives and kept screaming for his long dead Shizun. SY doesn't really remember that plot point, though his wondering is cut short when he hears people walking towards his direction. instinctively he his behind a dark corner, momentarily forgetting that he 'worked' at the palace now.

At list his bad luck was finally turning over as the Golden Protagonist himself walked past him with one of his wives hanging off his arm, looking just as cool as SY had always imagined. He had to snap himself out of his stuppor though, as two things caught his attention: First, Xin Mo was, predictably, strapped to his waist, still glitched but at least the virus seemed more or less contained, which gave SY a bit more time to work, though the other thing he noticed...

Hanging onto an old-looking braid laid SY's missing tassle that Binghe had found for him all the way back at the Conference.

What the hell was Luo Binghe doing wearing that old tassle at this day and age??

A few days passed and the Tassle Incident (as he called it) had to be set aside, as it seemed that passing as a servant also meant that other servants and even some wives expected SY to actually work. Not great, he sucked at cleaning and the other servants spared no words to make it clear to him, but it at least gave him something to do while he waited for his Scissors to arrive. SQH had sent him a few messages saying he'd gotten his part of the deal done, so now all SY could do was monitor Xin Mo's condition (from very far away), and occasionally manually debug some small virus pieces that had fallen from the sword, which luckily were easy enough to deal with that he didn't need to cut them off.

The only thing that was worrying him now is how... odd Luo Binghe seemed. Of course, he was supposed to be the pinnacle of the Cool Guy trope, so some edginess was to be expected, but Binghe didn't look just Edgy, he looked straight up depressed. There were bags under his eyes, and he barely seemed to tolerate the presence of 99% of his wives, and that damned braid with the damned tassle was still there-

Point is, Binghe acting so weird really threw SY through a loop, and he may have gotten a bit careless. At a random day when SY was carrying some dirty laundry another servant had just shoved at him, he had no prior warning before a voice sounded from behind him: "You seem to have dropped something."

He barely managed to shake off the violent sense of deja-vu that had sucker punched him in the face before he realized what was happening; Luo Binghe was talking to him. Directly to him. Shit- shit! Did he notice? Was Binghe doing a clever call back, spider-man style?? Was SY going to die????

SY shakily turns to Binghe, keeping his eyes locked onto the floor, bowing as much as possible that he still seemed respectful but the bag of clothes he had didn't all just fall to the floor. Thankfully Binghe didn't seem to mind, and simply put the fallen piece of clothing on top of the others and walked away. Though, just as SY was regaining his breath, Luo Binghe's voice stops him again. "You... Have we met before?"

SY trembles something about only being hired recently and not having the opportunity to formaly meet Junshang, and it seems to be a decent enough that Binghe just stares at him for a while longer before walking away. He really should grow out his hair if even the Emperor got weirded out like that...

Binghe started eyeing SY way more after that day. The protagonist would rarely speak directly to him, but SY could feel his gaze as if it were burning; though, since Binghe never said anything, SY just assumed that whatever Binghe's problem with him was, it was likely nothing to worry about.

In fact, it probably was because one of Binghe's wives had used SY is an impromptu act to try to get Binghe jealous (he just frowned, separated the two and walked away) and after that she had gotten infatuated with him, so she'd turned SY into her personal servant. Because of that SY saw Binghe at most two times a week instead of the 50% chnace of seeing his shadow once a week. Wow.

Because of this, as much as Binghe noticed SY, SY noticed Binghe as well, the protagonist seeming to get even more down as the days went. The tassle was still braided in his hair (SY worried it was just going to become a lock at this point), his eyebags never seemed to leave his eyes, and he was always muttering about... something. (SY managed to overhear something about 'fairness' and what Binghe actually wanted...?)

It all culminated at a seemingly random night. Most of the wives and servants had gone to sleep, only the more in-human women still hanging around, and SY, of course, but mostly it was because he wanted to see how close he could get to Binghe's quarters (aka Xin Mo) at night. Not that it was necessary, as when he was walking his attention was adruptly caught by the strangest sight: Luo binghe, sitting on one of the stone stair that lead to one of the many courtyards, being absolutely drenched in rain. The weirdest part was that a few servants and wives had also passed this place, and they all seemed like they didn't see Binghe, or didn't care.

Hating to see such an usually proud man (not that he'd seen much of that either) just soaking outside as if he'd just caught the love of his life cheating with another man, SY decided that at least he'd do a good job as a servant and take care of 'his Lord'. He grabs an umbrella from one of the adjacent rooms and slowly walks outside, covering Luo Binghe's form, not really caring if he was also getting soaked.

They stayed silent for who knows how long, but eventually, Binghe's eyes that had been laser focused on the horizon slowly blink once, as if coming out of a trance, and slowly move to SY's face, up to his hand holding the umbrella. "My Lord should get back inside. He'll get sick that way." SY half murmurs.

Binghe doesn't respond, though after a few seconds, his eyes seem to widen a bit and his breath comes out a little shaky. SY doesn't dare comment on it.

"Have we met before?" Luo Binghe asks again.

"...Yes." Shen Yuan says.

Binghe closes his eyes, and they stay like that for another hour.

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things : chapter one

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. no porn in the first two chapters, sorry gang :)

masterlist | next chapter

Prome Medical Devices hired you as a personal assistant to the CEO, Toshinori Yagi, shortly after he was diagnosed with his second bout of prostate cancer and shortly before they learned it had metastasized to bone. It was a tragic, yet expected turn of events.The man had been sick most of his life, they told you, he's probably slept in hospital beds more times than he's slept in his own. It was, like most things, inevitable.

Over the following weeks, through chemo and taps and rotating hospital doors, he began working from home and handling only the absolute basics, and your silly assistant job evolved into more. You had only planned to stay for a couple months, but then another horrible thing happened.

You became Somehow Important. 

Days went from scrolling on Twitter between writing notes to juggling everything that no one else could handle. Sitting in for meetings, handling calls, scheduling reviews and system checks, running to the pharmacy midday: there's nothing you haven't done. It’s a lot, but in the grand scheme of it all, it's nothing-- especially compared to the things that everyone else gets done here. 

8:35am. The security man gives you a nod without checking for your badge. Engineers skitter around the office like cockroaches. It's always a good sign when no one immediately comes to find you; that means your boss is still alive and doing about the same as he was yesterday. No updates, you’ve found, are good. No one bothers to tell you when good things happen: you’re the fixer, the emergency contact. When you’re being informed of anything, it’s because someone else wants you to clean up the mess.

(The only exception is from the man himself. Toshinori sends you the best kind of updates; mundane things from his life that he needs to share, like pictures of his duck pond or his review of the new coffee shop in town. It’s enough to keep you going, even when the day absolutely blows. You only had a few months working directly with the man, but he was fond of you-- and everyone was fond of him.)

Outdated filaments thrum down the halls. Your heels click against the tile with every step, a slow march to another day of monotony, a kind of dread that not even your phone can distract you from. Because your position is rather undefined for the corporate world, your desk is in an awkward spot, sandwiched in the hall, equidistant from the engineering department, the CEO's office, and the coffee machine. In terms of convenience, it's lovely, but it also means you have nowhere to hide.

Before you can even make it to your desk, a young man pops into the way and heads straight for you, a bit too quickly to be passed off as casual. Your heart sinks, then you realize it's just one of the interns: a college kid who's clearly had too many energy drinks already.

“Hey,” Denki smiles with too much gum, so wide his cheeks almost swallow up his eyes. He’s a scruffy, dirty blonde, a patchy black streak on one side of his head. His button down is obviously unironed, so crumpled it almost looks like a pattern, matching perfectly with his untied tie. It’s a good thing that he’s cute; you doubt he’d have gotten this far in life if he wasn’t. 

“Good morning, how are you? Have a good night? You look so pretty this morning. MILF town over here.” he says, twiddling the toe of his shoe into the carpet. “I made the pot of coffee for you,so you don’t have to worry about that-”

You cut him off. “What did you do?” 

The interns don’t report to you. If anything, they run parallel to you. If there’s anyone they should be ass kissing, it should be the department head, not some personal assistant, but the group considers you an ally. Maybe even a friend.

“I wouldn’t say that it’s something that I did,” the boy explains. He sucks air in through his teeth. “It’s more like what I didn’t do.”

“Denki.”

“It’s just the reports! I have to submit them end of day and it’s just not--” He juts out his bottom lip. “Can you proof my work? Please? The Eraser’s going to have my head if I make another mistake.”

The lead engineer is infamous for deleting whole chunks of code that the interns have made and ruining months of their work. Last month it was Ochako's work, who then spent the rest of the day at your desk, sniffling. The four others  were equally terrified of the man, constantly fretting and bitching about the ‘cruel working conditions.’ If Prome wasn't so prestigious (and internships weren't necessary for graduating) there’d be no interns left. You’re sure Eraser would prefer it that way.

“Please?” Denki clutches his hands together in prayer. “Please, please, please?”

 You don't even pretend to hem and haw.

“Email it over before lunch.” you say and he lights up. 

“Aw, you’re the best!” He turns away and practically skips down the hall. “I’m gonna drop off Izuku’s stuff too, okay?”

There’s no chance to say no before Denki’s gone. You flop into your chair and kick off your heels, trying to convince yourself that you don’t already regret saying yes. You catch your own appearance in the black screen of your computer. Makeup doesn’t do much to cover up the fact you’ve been crying. You can see it in your eyes, in the creases of your skin that you wish weren't there.  Even as the screen lights up, you can still catch your own face, starting back with that sad, sad expression. 

It's been mostly sleepless nights since Touya left, but you push through and ignore whatever you can. You miss your travel mug, the one that matched the coaster on your desk. You miss your forks, the ones that weren’t the awful ones from the thrift store down the road, bought solely out of panic when you returned to an empty apartment.  Most of all, you miss him, how the apartment felt warmer with two bodies instead of one, and how secure you felt with someone who loves you.

Your screen loads and a big, red 24 flashes in the corner-- fuck, the works already piling up. You try to squish any thought of Touya’s disappearing act into the back of your head. Like a dog, Touya always comes back home to you. He just needs to be wild for a bit, play off leash, and then he’ll crawl back like always. 

You check your phone. He’s still saved under “AVOID AT ALL COSTS” and the last five texts you sent are all unread. Your thumb hovers over the delete button for a moment; it’d be easier to cut him off and end this cycle. You can stop pushing the boulder up the hill,  just for it to tumble back down again. You could pursue someone else, maybe someone nice or smart or at least not rude-

 Focus. Compliance is raising concerns about the new platform and manufacturing has CC'ed you into an issue about screw heads, two things that you know nothing about. You flip your phone over and push through. What’s the difference between a hex and a truss and why should you care?

..

11:59. You’re none the wiser about either topic, but the dust seems to be settling and everyone seems to be happy enough. Denki’s reports are an absolute mess, bad to the point you start to wonder if he even tried. The pages aren't even formatted correctly, so it’s going to take most of your lunch to iron out the wrinkles. Luckily, Izuku is a bit more competent and his tasks look great, so-

“Oh, baby girl!”

You stop typing and sit straight up to peer over your computer screen, hiding the remnants of your microwaved lunch. With arms raised high and dressed in his finest ironed button down, Yamada Hizashi enters. Tall, blonde, thin, and leggy: Hizashi would have been a Victoria’s Secret model if he wasn’t a man. His long hair is tied back into a messy bun, a couple of loose tendrils floating  around his face in an effortlessly, annoyingly charming way as he marshes straight for you. 

“Let me see ‘em!” he demands loudly, a smile on his face and his hands on his hips. “Come on, baby. You know what I want.”

If it was anyone else, you’d think the man was a creep, but Hizashi is just so earnest about the way he lights up a room. With a belabored sigh and a grin, you roll your chair back a bit and stick your leg to the side to reveal your pink, fluffy slippers. The man claps his hands together and laughs a deep, hearty chuckle, genuinely bemused. 

The bunny slippers had started as a secret. The original dress code had required women to wear heels to work, which was fine, until the back of your feet became nothing but blisters. To give yourself some respite during the day, you had hidden a pair of slippers under your desk, just a little treat to make it through the day. It seemed like a genius idea-

Until the day the fire alarm went off. In the surprise, you had forgotten to change your shoes back, and proceeded to spend the next half an hour outside with the entire company in your violently pink shoes.

Luckily, everyone thought it was pretty funny.

Especially Hizashi.

“Seeing my work wife is the best part of the week.”

You throw a hand over your heart and gasp, trying to hold back your smile. “Only your work wife?”

“Oh, babygirl, I’d marry you in an instant.” He leans over your desk with another sigh, this one heavier. “I’d make you the trophy wife you were born to be.”

“Cool it, Mic.” Your heart sinks a bit at the voice.  “HR is going to have your head if you aren’t careful.”

Aizawa “The Eraser” Shouta makes his third appearance at the coffee machine this morning. He’s an average sized man, if not slightly short, with dark hair and the beginnings of a salt and pepper beard. The muscles in his jaw flex whenever he looks your way, almost as if he’s chewing away his annoyance. The most notable thing about him is a scar on his high cheek bone, long healed and silver in the light. He sits his coffee cup - a beat to shit Stanley thermos from long before they were cool- under the tap and lets the java pour, that sour expression never leaving his face.

Aizawa has worked here since the beginning. As one of the founding members of Prome and a lead engineer, he’s had his hands in absolutely every machine the company has produced, and yet he carries himself with none of the pomp and circumstance he deserves. Instead of abiding by the strict dress code, he wears a bright yellow sweatshirt that has an obvious coffee stain on the pocket.  It’d be charming if he wasn’t an infamous dick. The two of you rarely interact, despite the fact he visits the coffee station next to your desk multiple times a day, offering you no more than a nod most days. The interns are terrified of him-- and rightly so. You’re also scared of him. You’ve never met anyone else as tightly wound or as obsessed with work as him; there’s a rumor that he even sleeps here some days.

“Don’t listen to him,” Hizashi says. “He’s just jealous.”

“I’m not jealous, I’m protecting the company from potential litigation when bunny slippers over here-” he juts a chin your way- “ decides your flirting isn’t fun anymore.” 

You knew he wasn’t jealous. It’s an open secret that Aizawa doesn’t like you very much. Unlike any other of the department heads, he never allocates you work or stops by to chat. There was even a rumor that he wanted to eliminate your position last year; you wouldn’t care so much if he didn’t have the power and sway to make that happen. 

Hizashi pops a hip to the side. He isn’t afraid of anyone it seems; he even claims to be the man’s friend after hours.“Would you rather me go back to flirting with you?”

Aizawa stares back, only the trickle of coffee echoing in the hall. Finally, when it almost reaches the top, he shuts it off and glares. “You’re not even supposed to be in office today, Mic.” 

Hizashi had always been the most notable salesman in the company, but once the CEO’s health went downhill, he had taken over a lot of the speaking roles as well. Interviews, speeches, and the like: Toshinori Yagi had dubbed him Mr. Microphone and the name had just stuck. From what you can tell, he’s actually pretty close with Aizawa and the other founding members outside of work as well.

“I have a quick meeting with the marketing gals in a couple minutes,” Hizashi explains. He brings his attention back to you, brows waggling. Fuck- you know what he’s about to say.

 “And I wanted to wish my wife an early happy birthday.”

Oh, god. Your face flushes with heat-- you had hoped he had forgotten that. You glance over to Aizawa, who seems more interested than usual.

“It's tomorrow,” you explain. He nods curtly.

“Our office darling is going to be thirty, flirty and feeling fine!” Mic explains further. Ugh. You wish he didn't sound so happy about it. When you think about it for too long, turning thirty feels like the end of the world, an evil you just can't avoid. It's better than the alternative, you guess. 

“Are you and the boyfriend planning on a romantic night?”

A second gut punch of a statement.

“Oh, no, I’m just-- he--” You almost get emotional for a moment. Thirty years old and single: it feels like the end of the world for some reason. Everyone else is getting married or having kids or living some dream life. Fuck-- even two of the goddammit interns are engaged and they're practically babies! At this point, you might as well give up and die alone; no one else is ever going to want you, are they? 

 The glimpse of Aizawa in the corner, watching you with those judgemental eyes, sobers you up quickly. 

“We broke up, so I’m just staying in.”

The two snap their heads towards each other. Mic waggles his eyebrows, not so subtly gesturing to a non receptive Aizawa. You know that look, the excitement and relief. It’s not a secret that no one really liked Touya-- people have been openly voicing their contempt for years. He wasn’t a bad guy, except for the times he was, but people only ever remembered the bad things. 

“Oh, is it…?” Mic bites back his words, debating how harsh he should be.  “Is it for real this time?”

Touya always comes back. Everyone knows the routine by now. 

“Yeah,” you lie. “I’m done with him.”

“Good.” Aizawa says. You grimace at that; even he knows? You didn’t know he paid attention to anything outside of work, let alone your shitty interpersonal drama.

“More than good. Amazing! Spectacular! I’m so, so, so proud of you!” Mic adds on and you pretend it doesn’t bother you. It’s strange; the more others despise him, the more your heart aches. Touya needs you and you need him; who else will have him?

Who else will have you?

“That means we can go out for drinks to celebrate!”

“Oh, it’s okay, you don’t have to do that.”

“Too late, nope. We’re having a two-for-one birthday single bash tomorrow.” He’s on his phone, typing wildly. “I hope you have something pretty to wear because I’m going to show you how you deserve to be treated.”

Fuck. You’d rather be alone, sniveling and waiting for Touya’s return in your apartment, but Hizashi is smiling. His intentions are good; it’d be cruel to deny him. 

“Nemuri knows some awesome spots-” The man is a whirl, typing and talking and walking. “You better get excited, baby girl.”

“Oh, yay,” you offer weakly. Hizashi isn’t listening anymore; he’s caught up in his own plans, briskly walking down the hall. A breath you didn’t know you were holding sneaks out and you slump back down to your seat.

“You really don’t have to let him walk all over you like that,” Aizawa says. He swirls his cup slowly, watching the rim.  

You try to offer the man a smile, but you can tell it looks forced. Sure, Hizashi can be a lot, but he just wants to help, as misguided as that urge is. 

“It’s okay.” When he doesn’t look convinced, you add. “Really.”  

“Are you sure?”  he presses, voice tight. 

“Mhm.” You return to your keyboard and start typing, hoping that he understands the social cue. “Thanks though.”

Thankfully, he lets it go. Turning down the hall, he starts to sip his coffee, but then freezes mid stride.

“You make this?”

“No.”  

“I can tell,” Aizawa says, examining his cup. “It’s fucking dog water.”

That comment is so off kilter that you can’t help but snort. Aizawa watches you for a beat more, maybe bemused, maybe not, then nods. With that, he leaves, an empty coffee pot in his wake.  Another item to add on your growing list. 

-

The rest of the day goes by quicker than you need it to. Denki leaves a little bit after lunch for a doctor’s appointment and the rest of the workforce trickles out after. The head of development, Nezu, has you run through potential presentations before you follow up on compliance’s worries again. The coffee pot was refilled four more times, all by you, and your messages to Touya still sit delivered and unread. Two hours after the work day was supposed to end, you slip your heels back on. Denki’s files are pretty much unrecognizable now, but that’s a good thing.  All of the college students are intelligent and more accomplished than you’ll ever be, but you’re not sure why they can’t figure out basic busy work. There’s nothing hard about it, other than focusing.

With a final press of a key, your personal printer hums to life. A staple and a paperclip and you’re done: now it’s just a quick trip to engineering and you can finally go home. Your work isn't physical, but God, hunching at a desk all day takes a toll on your body. A flare of something eats at your lower back as you stroll the empty building and try to rub the grit from your eyes. You think there’s a frozen pizza at home or maybe some pasta-- though, you can’t remember if that was from this monday or last monday. Maybe it’d be safer to just throw it away.

The department itself  is a long row of cubicles, with miscellaneous machines and computers littering the other side of the room. You recognize old prototypes and parts of Prome's most famous product: a hospital bed. 

Before you had set foot in this building, you never thought a bed could count as a medical device -- or as something highly complicated and thoroughly engineered -- but this bed is different. It’s comfortable, lightweight, and durable, all while able to track a patient’s movement and comfort. It even records a patient's glucose, body temperature, SPO2, and many other medical things that go over your head. When used correctly, bedsores rates have been reduced to nearly zero and hospital related illnesses are caught significantly earlier.

In about three months, the newest model will be released, complete with full integration into electronic record systems. If everything goes according to plan, it’ll be revolutionary. Working here is a headache, but you do take pride that it's a company that does good. 

“Do you need something?” 

You jump at the sound of the voice, flipping around to search the room. Tucked at the end of it all is an open office door. Inside, Aizawa is perched at his desk, head in one hand, reading glasses in the other.  He’s illuminated only by the computer screen, his deep, dark eyes bouncing side to side as he carefully reads.

 Aizawa always looks tired, but now so especially; his heavy lidded eyes are drooped with fatigue and his skin is pallor, black stubble dusting his unshaved cheeks. There’s no bite or annoyance to his voice-- maybe even a little levity. For once, you don’t want to scurry away from him like a mouse, hiding in the shadows and corners to avoid his claws.  You still approach cautiously, heels sharp against the tile. The silence in between each hit makes your skin prick with an unknown nausea. 

“I thought everyone went home.” You say. 

“Everyone did. Just me-- and you, apparently.” He taps out a word or two. His office is devoid of personal items, desk covered in nothing but stacks of papers and illegible post notes, nothing to hint to his personal life. It’s been three years, yet you have no idea what his personal life is like-- if he even has one, that is.

“No slippers tonight?”

That was either a dig or a joke. You aren’t sure either way, but the way your shoes sound when you walk even closer feels like its own answer. When you reach the corner of his desk, he finally looks your way. It hits you that you've never actually been this close to him before. It's always been passes in the hall and distant conversations. His skin is smoother than you'd thought it'd be, with creases between his brow that fill themselves when he-

“Do you… need something?”

“Oh, uh-- Denki left these at my desk by accident,” you lie, sliding the file on to the corner of his desk. “I think they’re for you.”

He regards you again, more thoroughly this time. With a tilt of his head, he inspects your face, eyes flickering between your two. In the dim, they’re nothing but black dots, an inkinesss that you could fall into if you were any closer. 

He’s pretty.  And that’s an unsettling thought. You’ve never allowed yourself to consider that before. Immediately, you walk the thought back. No. Nobody with his personality is attractive-- hands down. Touya is the only dick you need in your life. 

“You should go home. It's late.” he says before turning back to his work. He types a couple things, then hits the backspace and deletes it all again. “Go home.”

Adjusting the bag on your shoulder, you sigh, the workday catching up to you. “You should too.” 

“Hm,” he grunts. He takes a long sip from his thermos, tipping it back to suck the dregs. You’d never noticed the sticker of the bottom before- a faded and torn image of an orange cat.  “Maybe.”

That’s a no. You don’t push the issue. You start towards the door, then pause. 

“Do… do you want me to make another pot of coffee before I go?” You’re not sure why you offer. Everything’s been put away and cleaned for tomorrow. It’d take at least 15 minutes to set up again. 

Aizawa slides his glasses back on, adjusting them by the bridge, only for them to slip right back down the flat bridge of his nose.

“You don't have to do that.” 

With that you leave, no proper goodnight dismissing you. The tap of your heels and the clack of his keyboard mix into some sort of soft, unbalanced rhythm. Despite yourself, you think of Touya, of where he is and where he isn’t. Is it also quiet there? Has he thought of someone else in the same way you just did?

When the doors of the building close and the security guard nods your way, the sound of percolation echoes behind you, the final drops falling into a freshly brewed pot.

[callofdudes]

Hiya! How are you doing? Hope you doing okay. Btw, if you have time, can I request TF141 with Fem! Reader who is emotionless. The men’s went to visit Y/n place for her birthday but they heard loud bark in her house. When Y/n open the door the men’s are pin down by a lot of puppies. They though she has scary dog only to meet cute puppies. Imagine when the men’s see Y/n cuddle/hanging out with her puppies and she her smile a bit during her birthday they be like ‘Dammit! So cute!’ And almost faint seeing the light above of her like an angel.

Thank you for being so patient anon, I'm trying to get these done, ahh!

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Ghost is pretty used to how you act on base, and while he doesn't exactly trust the whole emotionless thing (that's his thing, back off his permanent emo phase) he does give you space and respect you.

So much so when you invited him to come over after a long mission needing a break from life, he just decided to except. To hell with it, at least he knew you wouldn't bother him.

And plus, it was your birthday in a couple days so what was the real harm in saying no??

So he shows up with his bags a couple days later, not expecting anything special until he rang the doorbell.

Now.

Simon.

Loves.

Dogs.

There are few things he loves more in this world than tea, arson, and dogs. So when he hears a bunch of barking he rightfully assumes you have a dog, unless you just have that playing to scars people, which he wouldn't put it past you.

You come to the door, struggling to open it before he's bombarded at the glass screen, seeing a bunch of tiny puppies jumping and wagging their little tails in excitement to meet a new person.

And Simon nearly dies of how utterly fucking cute that is. You open the door and their jumping at his legs, yipping as he comes in and puts down his bag, on their little legs rushing to sniff the new item in the home.

"Sorry about them." You apologize.

Simon shrugs, melting. "That's alright."

The puppies are pretty adorable, one of them even wants to sleep on his bed with him. And Simon gets used to them, pulling them into his lap and stroking them, cradling them, occasionally following you when you take them for walks.

But when you're both sitting in the living room, Simon scrolling through his phone and you on the TV. He can't help looking over and seeing two of them curled up on your lap and passed out. The others all snuggled close as you barely cling on to the TV remote.

He stares, lip turning up slightly under his mask, seeing how cute the scene was. It was pretty damn adorable.

And he's going to miss those puppies when he goes home. But now he has a nes perspective on you as well. He knows you're gentle.

You pretend not to have emotions, and in your line of work he understood, but he saw the gentle side of you. The nurturer, even if it was too a bunch of cute puppies.

Also.

Let him see your puppies again.

Please.

He's begging you.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Now, Johnny probably would have declined your offer to stay at your house if he knew you had dogs. Johnny hates dogs, and is not afraid to kick one on the spot.

But you wanted to throw a party for your birthday and he couldn't just.. decline to go to your birthday. That was horrible, he was invited, he had to go!

He doesn't want to be cruel to dogs or go out of his way, but they scare him. And he doesn't like being near them.

He grabbed his bag and knocked on your door, immediately tensing when he heard the sound of yips coming toward the door.

Please don't let it be a big dog, please don't let it be a big dog.

You rushed to the door, struggling to open it and Johnny was suddenly swarmed by tiny puppers.

He tensed a little and you apologized, herding them back inside and letting Johnny in. Luckily they were distracted by the scent on his bag long enough he could make it to the living room.

"Sorry about that, should have told you."

"Oh ah, no no that's alright..."

He chuckles softly as the puppies get excited from the new guest, some scrambling to hop into his lap when he sits down and you have to gently remove them from him so he can get settled.

You smile softly as you pull them off and gently, lovingly scold them on crawling all over him. He can't help a little smile when you pick one up, drawing the rest to follow you to the couch.

You flop down, tossing Johnny the remote as the puppies crawl up to you, yipping and snuggling up.

Johnny puts on some YouTube video for experimental slow motion capture explosions for a bit.

Eventually looking over to see if you're even interested, only to see you passed out on the couch with the puppies all curled up.

He watched, smiling softly seeing you so relaxed. You were gentle and kind and now you were soft, all curled up like the world was calm. He grabbed the throw blanket and gently laid it over you, turning off the TV.

One of the pups squirmed out from under your arm, yipping as he moved to the stairs. Johnny shushed the pup softly so you could continue to sleep and he headed down to his room.

You were pretty cute like that, all curled up with a bunch of puppies.

Just... It might not be as cute when they get bigger.

But for now, absolutely adorable.

And now he thinks he might try to get you to open up a little more. Because clearly you aren't simply what you want to be seen as. And he wants to know you. That gentleness he saw that day with your puppies.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle doesn't feel any which way about either animal. He's slightly more of a cat person but would say he likes cats and dogs equally.

He didn't really have any particular thoughts about you either. You were on the team, you got the job done, and that was good. You were quiet, like Ghost, and that was something he could appreciate.

He might have declined the offer to stay over, but it was you'd birthday and you had offered. And what's a week in someone else's home he didn't have to worry about rent and resources? (Gaz math)

So he found himself at your doorstep with really not much idea of what to expect. He didn't think much of it when he rang the doorbell and heard a bunch of yips and little barks.

You must have dogs. Or puppies from the sounds of it.

And he was right, looking down as you opened the door, seeing puppies skittering around and wiggling excitedly. You opened the door, nodding to Kyle, who nodded back.

"Sorry about them, off." You commanded, helping Kyle to put his bag down on the kitchen chair. He watched the puppies dance around between and around his feet.

"That's a lot of puppies." He put his hands in his pockets.

"And I love them all." You smiled softly, cooing them over to the couch. Kyle watched all of them waddle over, yipping and scrambling to get up into the couch.

You curled up in a blanket with them all, one of them staying back to sniff Kyle's pantleg and nibble on it a little.

Kyle watched the little puppy, bending down to pick him up and felt his soft coat. He was very cute puppy, very light too.

"They are beautiful... What breed??" He looked up, noticing your eyes were closed. The light from your blinds casting on you in just a way he could tell it had been a long day.

He smiles softly, thinking how cute it was paired with your earlier words.

He attempted to put the one puppy down but it scrambled back, following him as he took your advice and also went to pass out for a nap.

Eventually waking up with that same pup curled up with him. He went upstairs to see you still sleeping, and he couldn't help thinking it cute s second time.

You were soft, gentle with the small animals. So comfortable with them. He couldn't stop s small smile. So this was the real y/n... He'd like to see more of you.

And he thinks your puppies are adorable.

John Price

Price is like Kyle in that he doesn't really prefer one species over the other, he vibes with both. Though he's leaning more dog person.

You on the other hand, your skill alone is what got you on the team. Price wishes you would be less 'emotionless' and try to open up even a smidge to the others. Even a little bit of teamwork can lead to a lot of success and smoothness.

But oh hell he picked you all...

That's what he couldn't help thinking as he drove down to your house for your birthday. It was mid leave and Price was headed over to celebrate the day with you and make sure you wouldn't be alone.

Showing up at your door, he didn't his little dad shoulder roll and knocked. When he got no response he rang the doorbell, immediately hearing loud barking and yipping.

His eyebrows raised slightly. He didn't take you for a dog person. Unless he's at the wrong house, in that case, fuck him.

But he's reassured it's you when you open the door, giving him a half a smile for effort. "Captain, sorry, I was trying to put them away."

Price chuckles when the small puppies jump up at his legs and run around him, smelling all the new smells on him.

"That's quite alright."

You open the door further and let him inside. Price steps in, the small puppies yipping and jumping. You try to gently scold them off but Price doesn't react, letting them do their thing.

"Sorry, I can make you tea, we can sit down??"

Price nodded. "That sounds lovely actually, thank you."

You nod, grabbing out two cups and getting the kettle ready.

You two pass time talking until you get to the couch, Price crossing a leg over, one of the pups hopping up into his lap, yipping at him and snuggling up to his stomach.

Price can't help chuckling again as you talk. The rest of the puppies curl up with you, you'd arms wrapping around them all, trying to squeeze your love gently into their tiny bodies.

The quietness somehow seeping in along the way until Price looks up from petting the small puppy to see you nodding off against the arm rest.

The sun through the window hits you nicely and Price sighs softly. Seeing how tired you looked, how gentle you were.

Price always knew it, he knew the soft soul under those faces. And now he saw it, seeing how utterly adorable you were curled up with your puppies.

He walks over, setting down the pup from his lap against you, having a feeling he'd feel better there.

He pulls the throw blanket over you, rubbing your arm gently. Guess he's making dinner to give back for making him tea.

He looked back into the living room, seeing you still passed out. Maybe, with some more work he can get you to open to him. He liked seeing you so cuddly up.

You were so gosh darn adorable, almost as adorable as the puppies themselves.

(sorry it's short, it's late and I wanted to at least get something out, blep.)

[yawarakaizai]

wearing beast!dazai’s big black trench coat with only undies underneath ໒꒰ྀི ܸ. .ܸ ꒱ྀི১ !! swinging legs while sitting on his lap and messing with his paperwork until he gets mad and punishes u ૮꒰/ฅ//ฅ//꒱ა

m rlly glad u’r opening nsfw reqs luv (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ hope have fun writing angel！

ⵌ NOT A SECOND THOUGHT, OH, ROMEO

SENDER Reader (Fem) RECIPITENT Beast!Dazai (BSD) CONTENTS 17+ CONTENT NSFW, dub-con, usage of 'daddy', fem pet names, dry humping, grinding, bratty impatient reader, implied sugar daddy dazai, dirty talk, degradation, implied unsafe bindings (stay safe during bondage guys!), no lube/dry penetration, maso/sadi, jealous dazai, slight edging, orgasm denial,mean dazai but slightly sweet dazai during aftercare NOTE It's not your fault. It's not your fault there's nothing better to do. It's not your fault daddy promised to be in bed with you soon. You needed him, and he was too busy with the work he promised to have finished earlier! You wouldn't let him get away with this. But - who really has the upper-hand here? COMPANY Lolita

A/N aahh back f rom scho ol trip ;///; first nsfw fic !! h ope its okay (☍���⁰) i have more reqs in i nbox !!! i hope you enjoy th is fic !!!!

This was a dangerous game to play.

How you were going to go about this was a gamble, one that could either go in your favour - or horribly otherwise.

Danger thrilled you. And perhaps maybe that is why you paraded right into Dazai's office wearing nothing but his black trench coat.

" Oh? "

His pen was placed on the desk gently. Gaze eyeing you up and down with an eyebrow quirked up in curiosity. " What are you up to, bella? "

You stood there at the entrance with cockiness written all over your face. He knew what you were up to, he knew all too well what you wanted and he decided to play cruel.

Displaying yourself to him in such a teasing manner was the dangerous game. Your bitchiness that will follow will be more reason for him to punish you. You wore your favourite black-lace panties that hung low on your hips, your pretty pussy nearly peeking from the fabric as it hung loose. Dazai's coat was much too big for you, which described why the sleeves covered your hands entirely and you left the jacket unzipped purposefully, the coat just barely covering your nipples, enough to tease - but not enough to satisfy.

" I'm bored. " You hummed, as innocent as an angel, making your way over to his desk.

You twirled his signature red scarf around your hands, pulling the coats sleeves up your forearms to reveal your fingers, adorned with the expensive finger he had bought you.

" I told you I was almost done, did I not? " Dazai stifled a small laugh, sucking in a nervous breath. He wore a white blouse and some black jeans while working in his second office. There had been an incident he needed to look over and the last thing he needed was a distraction.

Dazai really did love you, but it seemed that no amount of training was able to keep a brat like you in one place.

" You're taking too long! " You pouted, hands slamming on his desk as you bent over just slightly, the coat yielding and allowing him to peek at your perked nipples. " My butt hurts waiting for you in our room, so..! "

Standing back up straight, you swayed your hips around the table and - pap! Sat right on his lap, sliding in between his legs very soon after with your back pressed to his chest. " ..This is much more comfortable. "

You emphasise so by wiggling your hips left and right before his hands clamped down on the sides of your hips to stop your ass from digging further against his crotch.

" Princess. " His shaky breath earned a grin from you. " Now's really not the time, okay? I'm almost done, I promise. " He tried to pick up his pen but you kicked your legs, your body moving with the force of so, " But daddy! Please! " You cried out. " At least let me sit down until you're finished! "

Giving in, it was probably for the best knowing you'll bother him either way. " Then I expect you to not move. " Rubbing your hips as his iron grip relented, " Am I clear? "

Of course you weren't going to behave. You deserve to act out every now and then, especially when mean Dazai left you waiting for so long!

" Mhm! " Your head idly rocked with a childish tune playing in your head, leaning back slightly to allow Dazai some movement. He picked his pen back up and began to write while you tried to focus on the fast, cursive writing but just couldn't.

The many words had your brain jumbled and you kept on yawning before daddy even had a chance to tend to you after promising he would.

" Daddy, this is boring. " You complained only to be given a small 'tch, tch' as a response.

Even you talking was enough to distract him. It made you upset, and when you were upset, consequences weren't something you worried or even thought about.

You tried singing, he'd pinch your thigh. You tried humming, he'd pinch your thigh. You repositioned slightly to get more comfortable, he'd pinch your thigh.

It was torture to be kept here waiting especially after you spent so long not only anticipating him meeting you tonight but also convincing Chuuya why you needed Dazai's trench coat and scarf.

You reached over to pick a pen from the cupholder just almost out of your reach and leaned back after. Dazai must've thought you wanted to keep your hands busy since you began to twirl the pen in your fingers. But oh, no.

Because while he was busy on yet another useless paragraph, you scribbled a small little heart in the corner of the page. He didn't seem to like that.

" Princess. " He warned, but you only giggled in the face of his growing anger. " Whaaaat? I'm not doing anything bad! " You threw your head back and looked up, Dazai's head turned down to look at your stupid little smirk. He wasn't impressed, but you both knew deep down he was enjoying this. If that hard thing pressing in between your ass wasn't any indication.

" You can keep acting like a bitch as much as you want, but you know how this is going to end. " He left it at that, knowing you well enough to expect you to continue until he has you flipped over, choking back your words.

" Mm-mm, " You shook your head, scribbling more love-hearts into corner of the page, small little doodles, " I'm only being nice. Daddy's being unfair. " Your legs kicked back and forth as you drew away on the page as though it were your sketchpad.

With Dazai's patience running low, he put his pen away to gather his sheets to read over, his head peering over your shoulder at his notes. Organising information was hard. It was even harder when he had his princess humping back into his half-erect cock.

You could swear that he was reading slow on purpose just to piss you off. You needed his attention now. In a bold move, the next words spoken would end up changing a night that could've ended on a much nicer note.

" Would've just gone to Chuuya if I knew you were gonna be this mean. "

You didn't even have enough time to gasp before your head was pushed down onto the desk, your body bent suddenly and it ached with the unprepared stretch. Your whine came late, but the palm shoving your cheek down made your words muffle until he pulled back , tearing the red scarf from around your neck and bringing it behind you where your vision couldn't see. You didn't dare move from the new position he put you into.

" Ow, ow, daddy! " Your overreactions didn't earn you any pity as he bound your wrists together behind your back securely. It was a little too tight, but that's just how you liked it.

" Can't wait at all, can you? " He huffed, your head still resting on the table, on top of a few of his beloved documents that he spent so long researching for and writing.

" My fault for spoiling you so much, isn't it princess? Lettin' you run the show how you like it. " Unzipping his fly with haste, he let his cock spring free while his other hand pulled the trench coat belonging to him that you were wearing over your bottom, pulling your panties down and letting them pool down at your feet. " Baby got too greedy, now she's gonna be reminded just what she is. "

" But you-! " Your mouth shot open in a gargled cry as he shoved his rock hard dick into your unprepared hole. You were barely wet enough for it to slide in and out comfortably. There was only so much your pussy could give when you had to go through about an hour of being denied. " Daddy! Hurts! Hurts! " You wailed, your legs kicking back and knees buckling with the horribly uncomfortable intrusion. Daddy's cock was thick and long enough for you to feel it push against that certain organ deep around your plush walls. You felt a stabbing pain in your lower abdomen that surged through your body and you thought that maybe this had not been worth it after all.

Hooking a hand under your stomach to keep you from completely falling to the floor, Dazai held your hips and began to thrust as he pleased, picking up pace into something deep but slow.

He would have happily slammed fast if he wanted to, but you only now were beginning to provide him with some self-made lubrication. " Fuck, baby. " He groaned, watching how your cute pussy would stretch around his cock as he'd slam in and how it'd return to it's small plumpness when he'd pull out to the tip only.

It was such an addicting sight, he could silence out your little begs and apologies in favour of watching your pussy instead.

" Dah-ddy! " You squealed, trying to gain his attention, to alert him of the pain.

" Hurts, it hurts, really, for re-al! " Your voice cracked with a hard thrust that made the desk inch forward.

" If that were the case, you wouldn't be getting so wet over this, would you? "

Dazai acknowledged the pain you were allegedly feeling but made no effort in helping soothe.

" Good girls get rewards. Bad girls get punished. Those are the rules. " Dazai was so, so mean. Your tears did not sway him to go easy. " No bitch of mine is bringing up Chuuya while she grinds down on my dick like a cock-hungry whore. "

" I'm sorry that I said it! " You tried to apologise but knew that ultimately, daddy's word was final.

You had no option but to stay still and take daddy's idea of a fit punishment for today.

At this point, your body had given in to the abuse your pussy was given and finally, that pain evolved into something more hot and arousing as precipitation pooled between your legs.

" Then you've learned for next time, hm? "

Dazai was grateful feeling himself slip in and out easier. His thrusts became more brutal and he seemed to care more about his table that kept moving in sync with his thrusts than you.

You were being used as a cocksleeve.

" Aah- aa-a-aah.. " Your body bounced and rubbed against the polished wood all while you tried to form coherent thoughts.

You thought that maybe, just maybe, you preferred this over daddy's usual spanking.

" G'nna..! Cum! Daddy, think I'm gonna! " You cried out, drool wetting the sheets.

" Hold it. " The command alone made your body seize up with fear. " No! " You choked on a mixture of a sob and a moan. " I'm gonna die, daddy! I'm gonna die, please, please! "

He relished in the way your feet raised to pull his thighs in closer into you, begging him to cum inside you and to give you the early orgasm you wanted so bad.

" Just be a good girl. Just this fuckin' once. Can ya do that? "

You really did sob this time.

Unsure how long you could hold back your orgasm, just before you were pushed over the edge - Dazai pulled out entirely and you shrieked.

Rubbing his cock on your soft ass, you felt thick, hot ropes of his seed squirt lines over your plump behind, wiping away any excess on your inner thigh, just about touching your neglected pussy.

" Noo.. no.. " Your voice was hoarse from shouting, small body hiccuping little sobs at the orgasm stolen from you.

" I said bad girls get punished. " Dazai replied coldly, taking a seat back into his chair after undoing the knot keeping your wrists tied.

At first, you couldn't move, and he watched his cum trickle down your thighs and onto the floor. You stayed crying quietly for a while on the desk until you pulled yourself together - enough to stand up (albeit shakily) to take the two steps forward to be held in Dazai's arms.

" Daddy, daddy, sorry, 'm sorry, I am, I am! "

You held onto his shirt with shaking fists, shivering like you were left out wet in the cold.

" Shh, shh, I know you are. I know you are, princess. "

Cheeks and nose flushed red from tears, his hand rubbed up and down your thigh, squeezing the flesh when he could.

" You can be a good girl when you want to. "

" Y-eah. " You cleared your sore throat, breath hitching every now and then with a hard inhale.

" Daddy had to be mean today, you know why, don't you, my brave girl? " Dazai cooed to you, tucking strands of your hair behind your ear so he could get a better view of your tear-streaked face.

" I was bad today, never again, not gonna be bad again. "

" That's my good girl. "

You say it and promise it. You swear it up and down and daddy will give you what you want soon after.

And even then, it'll barely be another two weeks before your next punishment.

©yawarakaizai 2023 ﹒﹒ reblogs appreciated! requests open :3

[ateezthings]

Thoughts are too much

pairing: bf!Changbin x female reader genre: angsty angst with fluffy ending warnings: body image issues (esp. regarding weight, hairiness, posture, sweatiness), mental health struggles, reader is a bit of an asshole, Changbin is a sweetheart word count: 1,4 k songs to listen to while reading: palaye royale – don’t cry enhypen – moonstruck i prevail – doomed ninety one – why’m sleeping at last – you’re enough a/n: to anyone who relates to these thoughts: I hope you find the courage to cultivate your own little Changbin in your head, who can fight those thoughts for you. Changbin is just my little safe place when it comes to body issues.

No, you were not gonna miss this train. You sprinted towards the closing doors, determined to make it to work on time. Just before the doors closed, you made it inside, the people around staring at you.

You found an empty seat and sat down, sweaty but feeling proud. As you took out your book you noticed you sat down opposite of an incredibly beautiful woman. It wasn’t so much her features that were pretty, it was more how everything about her seemed so incredibly well-proportioned. She also seemed to hold herself well, she definitely had good posture. Her shoulders were not drooping like yours often were. She also didn’t seem to sweat like you currently were.

A few years ago, you were deeply buried in your self-critical thoughts about your looks. Your mind didn’t need anything to attack every single thing about your body. ‘Your stomach is way too big’, ‘You’re way too hairy for anyone to be attracted to you’, ‘You should be ashamed of your weight’. Horrible stuff, day in, day out.

You’d worked long and hard to keep these thoughts and feelings in check. You knew there was no other way around it but to keep trying to be nice to yourself. Some days were easier than others. Today seemed to be a particularly tough day.

As soon as you looked at the woman opposite of you, all those thoughts you thought you had handled, came back rushing in without warning. ‘Look at her, she doesn’t look like a sweaty pig’, ‘You should suck in your stomach more, hers isn’t even visible’, ‘Sit up straight, you look awful’.

You were listening to every single thing your mind shot at you. You couldn’t seem to deal with them today and so you had no choice but to start believing all the horrible things again. They seemed true in that moment. You turned up the song on your headphones a bit more.

…

You’d made it to lunch, sitting next to a few colleagues, just chitchatting away. As you got up to get a second serving of the pasta bake, your coworker stated “A second serving, are you sure?”

She wasn’t a particularly good friend at work, but it was enough. It was enough to summon that dark cloud of thoughts again. ‘Nothing about you was or ever will be good enough’. She might as well have punched you in the stomach.

…

With enough distraction, panic about getting fired and more caffeine you’d made it through the work day. All you wanted to do now was get home, and lie down in front of your comfort show Gilmore Girls.

As soon as you shut your apartment door your bones seemed to get 37 kilograms heavier. You leaned against the door and took a deep breath.

“Honey?” His voice startled you. He poked his head around the corner. It was your Changbin.

“Hey baby… what are you doing here?”.

“Oh, I just went to the gym around the corner. By the time I was done I remembered this is usually the time you get home from work, I wanted to surprise you.” That smile, it melted away the tension in your forehead and shoulders. You got up to hug him. It was one of those hugs where you could let go, shifting almost all your weight on Changbin, who did his best to hold you together.

“Are you okay, honey?”

You didn’t feel like you could verbally express everything that was going on in your brain. “Yeah, of course”

He softly let go of your hug. “Then how about some dinner?”

“Uh, I’m not really hungry right now”

“Are you sure? You’ve worked all day”

You were getting more and more irritated the more he questioned you. “Yes, Changbin, I am sure. I am not hungry.”

He took a step back and put his palms up in defense. “Okay, okay… I’m just worried about you… You sure everything’s alright?”

A small grunt left your lips. “Yes, and I don’t want to be questioned anymore. Please just leave me alone” Your voice sounded louder than you intended.

And there it was: the hurt on his face. It wasn’t too obvious but you could read him. And he could probably read you. Which is not at all what you wanted right now.

“I need to leave.” You hadn’t taken off your shoes when you got home so you just opened the door.

“No, Y/N please talk to-” But you already shut the door on him before he could finish his sentence.

After a few steps you stopped for a beat to hear if he would come after you, but he didn’t. He knew you too well to assume you wanted to talk in a situation like this.

Of course, you knew you were behaving like an asshole. He didn’t deserve your bitchiness but it was all too much in your brain today. The thoughts, the anxiety, the depression, it all weighed too heavy on your shoulders today. Why was he even still with you?

You’d talked to him about your mental health struggles in the past, and he was always trying his best to ease the struggle. But every few weeks you started believing in the thoughts again and they were telling you to isolate yourself. Changbin didn’t love those parts of you anyways, so you deserved to be alone.

That got you thinking: Changbin sometimes had rolls on his stomach, he got sweaty at times. But that didn’t make you love him any less. You loved him for him, not because of what he looked like or didn’t look like. He made you feel safe and home.

There was a tiny voice on your head that said maybe, just maybe that was also the case for him. He never gave you much reason to doubt his love for you. So, what were you doing consciously sabotaging your relationship? Why were you walking around alone at night, instead of confiding in your best friend and boyfriend? How stupid of you.

It took you a good few minutes to find the way back to your apartment. In your emotional state you just walked wherever without looking about where you were going.

Eventually you made it back. You realized you didn’t know what to say to Changbin.

Before you could worry further, your apartment door swung open and Changbin stood right in front of you. He looked relieved. “Oh, thank god, honey, you’re here.” He engulfed you in a tight hug and lifted you off the ground. “I was gonna give you 15 minutes before going after you but I got too worried” He squeezed you a bit tighter.

“I’m sorry, Changbin, my thoughts are too much for me today.” Your voice was a whisper.

He let go of you to look at you. His eyebrows were raised and eyes big. “Will you tell me what’s going on in there right now?”

You nodded. It was time.

He took your hand and pulled you inside, on the couch.

After you somehow explained to him what’s been going on in your mind, you felt extremely tired but a lot lighter. A few tears fell down your cheeks while you were talking. Changbin listened closely the entire time.

“Y/N, please promise me, that the next time you notice these thoughts, you immediately text me. What you’re thinking isn’t the reality, not even close. I love you, and I love all of you, no matter what you look like. What you look like isn’t what makes you worthy, it’s being yourself. And I think you’re pretty amazing… and I am of course very objective in saying that so you can believe me… it’s based on scientific evidence.”

There it was, his stupid sense of humor you loved so much. Even in a situation like this he managed to make you smile without much effort.

“Oh really? I’d like to see this evidence someday, please?”

“Uh yeah sure, but I need to do one thing first…” He inched closer to your face eyes scanning your face. Then he gently kissed you, his hands holding your cheeks like you were a precious gemstone.

[aleenuhs]

heyyy can I request something where sadie and female r get into an argument, and sadie says something really hurtful that causes r to run away in tears. fluffy ending pls!

⋆Soft Spot

thank u xx

warnings: sadie is a bit toxic, she's rude to reader but then she makes up for it, fluff, crying, angst, slight cursing, reader referred to as "girl" and some other petnames, reader is sensitive, implied enemies to lovers

word count: 1.5k

Sadie wasn't one to know how to control her words and what they meant, so when she was angry, it was a different story. This time, you got the short end of the stick, and she was angry at you.

You, Sadie, John, and a few others had just gotten back from a botched bank mission and Sadie blamed you for the way it went, claiming that you screwed up your little act that John suggested you do as a distraction. You all had escaped just by a hair, the law was right on your guys's tails.

When you got back, she took you to your shared tent and sat you down, then paced around before she spoke, hand on her chin, face an angry red.

"You--" She spoke, her words cut short as she thought on how to word this. She was that angry to where she couldn't speak.

"I'm sorry Sadie, I didn't mean to mess up that bad..." You stammered, and she scoffed at your effort. Sometimes she could be so angry, so mean, but so lovable at the same time. She could love you, then be angry at you for days on end if you messed up.

But you got used to it as those lines blurred, you just walked on your tippy toes around her, in a worry that if you mess up, she'll leave.

"We asked one thing of ya', and you just had to screw that up too, huh?" She had a tone, one that indicated she could only progressively get worse from here on out. You sat there on the cot and watched her clench her fists and teeth, her breathing was rapid and her face flushed red. You looked down at your hands, then you could hear a sigh come out of her mouth. "Couldn't you have done better, no?" She asked, you hoped it was a rhetorical question because you were too afraid to respond.

"Answer me. Couldn't you have saved this from going to shit, girl?" She got closer to you, almost as if to speak down to you, like you were a child, like you meant nothing.

The truth was you tried, but it didn't work, and that's what really messed the job up. A man came up to you and started to get touchy feely with you when he heard your pleas for help outside the bank. You started to get scared, and ran inside, exposing what the others were doing.

"I... Yes, I could've." You blurted out, scared, holding yourself. Its like she was purposefully provoking you, to get a rise out of you.

Sadie clicked her tongue.

"Y'make me hurt," She murmured out and then cursed under her breath. "Go." She said louder this time, and you didn't budge.

"I'm sorry, I can make it up to you, please." You said almost silently but desperately, in order to make Sadie happy with you again, you sounded incredibly desperate, but it was all or nothing, and you couldn't loose her.

You realize that not even John was angry at you, and if he was, he wasn't this angry.

Maybe you were sensitive, as a little girl, that's what most people called you. Your father was a bit harder on you, and your mom didn't even try to discipline you. You were laughed at because of how easily you cried when being yelled at.

You had an incredibly easy-to-find soft spot, and every time it made you seem lesser than the person yelling at you.

It lead you to think that messing up was this horrible thing, all you could do was apologize and hope they wouldn't get angry at you. Hence this, you'd mentioned it to Sadie, and here she was.

When she realized you weren't moving, she got a bit more vocal. "Can't you hear me?" She said angrily, "I don't want you to act all fuckin' stupid and clueless like you usually are, go!" She yelled over your attempt to apologize, and you're sure that whoever was around heard it. How forceful it was, how it made your nose burn and tears enter your eyes, It wasn't a sob, they were silent tears. You angrily wiped them away, getting up and running off. You could feel someone staring at you as you ran out, and it was embarrassing.

You ran to the nearby river bank and sat down, hiding your face, sobbing loudly. Your tears dampening your pants as your legs came to your chest, the hot sun beating on your exposed neck, making you uncomfortable all around.

You loved Sadie so much, and you knew she loved you too, but it hurt to love her so much.

Meanwhile, Sadie sat on the cot, thinking about what she'd said to you. Thinking about it deeply. She remembered how scared you looked, and how you mentioned the treatment you were dealt when you were just a little girl.

You needed someone, and she felt like a jerk for not being that for you. For scolding you like like a bad dog. She could feel the anger washing off of her, being replaced with regret and hate for what she just did to you, how she yelled at you without a care in the world. What made her feel worse was how easily she could treat you like shit.

She got up and put on her brown hat and walked out in a search to find you and apologize to you.

After minutes of trying to find you, she sees you balled up, crying by the river bank. She stands over you, watching you for a moment before she kneels down and puts her hand on your shoulder, rubbing it ever so slightly.

"Darlin'," she speaks softly, a contrast from her usual voice.

You didn't dare look at her, not even move, you wiped away your tears, you can hear her start to speak but then retire. "I.. er, I'm sorry." She mumbled out, and you could tell she was trying, but not yet would you give it up to her.

"I jus' wanna hear ya.. please talk to me, honey." She sounded desperate, and at once, the tables were turned. She leans her head against your shoulder, slightly nudging you. "Can you just look at me, please?" She begged, a slight tremble in her words, but her accent still clearer than day.

You slowly rose your head from between your legs and looked up at her. It all hit her at once, she felt like the bad guy, like the shitty person. But you still didn't speak to her, instead you let her do the talking.

"Will you forgive me? I know I messed up real bad. I remember what you told me 'bout your parents- how they treated you."

"That man was getting weird with me and you still take it out on me, I don't know Sadie." You admitted, and she nodded seeing where her faults lie.

"Yeah. I know this ain't your fault, it never was." She put her hand behind your neck and brung you closer as you two sat on the grassy area, she stroked your hair, trying to soothe you, she could feel you shake a bit. Sadie never understood how hurtful her words could really be, until now. "m'too hard on you," she said softly, grabbing for your hand and taking it, rubbing your knuckles. "I need to learn to love you better."

You nod and look at her, your watery eyes clearing up, but it's not like you weren't still hurt by her words, that was a given. But the way she looked at you made your heart hurt, you knew she meant it. "Yeah," was all you could muster out.

"Come here," she said, her arms were open for you. "Please?" She watched as you look at her and hesitate for a moment before you hugged her. She pulled you into her lap and hugged you tightly. "I'm sorry." She repeated again.

"I know," you said, nodding.

"Can I kiss you?" She said, in an attempt to make you feel better.

You nod and the tears start to fall again, and you feel bad. She kisses your cheek and softly speaks, "don't cry." She reaches up and wipes away the tears that stained your cheeks, using her thumb to wipe them off your lips and she pulls you in so she can kiss you. You feel like a mess.

It made you feel slightly better, the way she was trying, and that was all it took. She hugged you like you were all she had, and really, you were. When you two first met, you couldn't stand her, and she couldn't stand you, but somehow it's what brought you two together. You don't exactly remember how she ended up loving you, but you knew she was the first to fall and since then, it's been a ride with her.

You do remember that you tripped her up one time after she took all your coffee beans, and another time you got her back by eating her food that was meant for her, and she got angry, but it made you happy to see her angry.

Now, you were in her arms and she was comforting you. Neither of you could ever imagine hating each other again, even when stuff like this happened.

[signedkoko]

i want to request you headcanon when Y/N is manipulated by a demon hostile to Vox (which may not be Alastor) to try to physically harm Vox against Y/N's will.

I'm sorry if my sentence has something wrong (_ _;)　

i'm Japanese so i don't have enough English skill

Vox X Reader [Romantic]

In which a demon manipulates you into trying to harm Vox. Reader is genderneutral.

Warnings - Attempted drugging | Vox yells at you for a bit </3

You've been together for many years now, long since you shared vows and became a celebrity couple all of hell wish they could be

You'd developed a schedule together, waking up in each other's arms, taking turns cooking meals, and planning your next date night, vacation, outing, whatever distracted you both from the work ahead of you

Many people came and went in either of your lives—too many to track—so you came to trust those closest to you

Velvette and Valentino never went; the three Vees flourished while you watched, one of the many moving parts of the machine that pulled their franchise above all others

Neither of you would have expected it to be someone so close to you trying to ruin it all

Valentino had many people come and go in his romantic life, but only one returned again and again, no matter how much you and Vox hated him: Dia

He was Valentino's assistant, one that was obsessive—you knew it was unhealthy, but Valentino liked that sort of thing, so you stayed out of it

Every time you spoke to Dia, they always got too close, too personal, asked you if you were cheating on Vox, if you wanted Val, and if you'd ruin his relationship

It always escalated from there, so you avoided them

But obsessiveness doesn't go away so easily, and being Valentino's personal toy meant they had all the drugs they could ever want on hand

Even the kinds only demonic princes could handle

" Oh! Hey! "

Dia called out to you one evening as you were just entering the building, home from running some errands

They handed you a gift box, seemingly in a rush

" Val says its for Vox! "

Your curiosity was piqued, but you knew better than to go snooping into anything Val did

So you did as per with any mail and sat it on Vox's desk since he was out

His office was on a separate floor from where you lived, but you knew he was more likely to get more work done before coming to see you

Hours later, while cleaning up from a hobby of yours, Vox slammed into the house, startling you to the point where you dropped your things

" Did you think that was funny? I could have died! What the hell is wrong with you!? "

You were so caught off guard by his screaming that you were completely silent

" Had my auto scanners not gone off, I would have eaten that; it would have melted me from the inside out! Are you crazy??? "

" Vox please! What are you talking about? "

" I already saw the footage of you putting this shit in my office; you put your name on the tag and everything! The chocolates? "

" Chocolates...? "

You managed to connect the dots, covering your mouth

" Check the lobby footage, 1:20 pm-ish, please Vox! "

When he eventually rolled it back, he was just as frustrated

Hes a swearing mess for a moment, until he apologetically pulls you into him

He feels absolutely horrible; of course you wouldn't do that to him- hell, how would you even get your hands on hydrofluoric acid?

But as the guilt subsides with your comforts, he becomes more than frustrated

Fuck, he's absolutely livid

Not only did they almost kill him, but Dia tried to frame you

He can't imagine what might have happened to you had they been successful

" Stay home and don't let anyone in. I think it's about time Val gets a new side bitch. "

Author's Note - I hope I understood your request well! My requests were closed when you sent this in, but I liked the prompt a lot so I'll let it slide this once... Thank you 🖤

[kalembappe]

Focus | k.m. 7 (req'd) a/n: someone send jude request idc how filthy wordcount: 1855 nsfw warning! 18+...pwp, choking, dirty talk, you r switchy

“I have to-” “Shush, shh, sh.” Your voice is quiet, normally soothing, but the way your breath fans his ear makes everything feel worse. “It’s almost done, ‘kay? Just a little bit more.” You sigh, resting on the warmth under you. 

You’ve been watching this documentary, something about…sports? He can’t do this right now. His whole body was tense in the couch, legs an open space for you to rest between but the curve of your ass is digging into his crotch. It’s been a week since he’s last seen you, touched you even with how he’s been swamped with work and you were both stuck between places. All he did was think of you–crave you, and now that you’re here, he can’t satiate himself since you thought it’d be a good idea to watch–His eyes open back up to meet the flat screen and see what he blanked on.

Shit, he doesn’t know if he’s cursing you or  himself; the documentary is about football and he didn’t even notice. You’re 41 minutes into the film but the only thing he grasped is the title. He’s not even mad that the name of the film is; How to win the world cup, he could laugh about it maybe but you’re making it hard. For him. It’s so hard for him.

 To focus, is what he means. Your hips adjust, shifting in your seat. His hands tense on your thigh, there’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing. At this point, that’s him  just trying to cope; he knows the likeliness of you not knowing is high since you’re so focused, it annoys him a bit how you’re so distracted by someone who wasn’t… “Look, it’s you.” You point out with a proud smile. Maybe it’s the lighting but there’s a glint in your eyes as soon as he appears on the screen.  Sometimes, you can’t make it to his games so you watch him through the TV, he knows you do since you text him before every match. And when you do watch him live, he can’t see you while he’s playing. Only now had he noticed the excitement on your fingertips when he feels your nails graze his thigh, or just how big your smile does get when someone praises him. It’s like seeing you for the first time again, maybe it’s because he hasn’t seen you in this light, or maybe it’s because he just misses you so, so , so much, but the urge to not fuck you into the couch right now is getting intolerable.

Your head leans back to rest on his shoulder, full weight on him, hands gripping his thigh to help you lift yourself on him. Unknowingly, your hands move closer to his crotch as they move up–a groan slips from his throat.

He doesn’t miss the small pause your body makes. He’s even worse now, cheeks heated, lips swollen from the bite of his teeth; Kylian looks up at the ceiling with silent prayers in his head while you’re sinking into him like a cushion. Surprisingly, you continue on without a care, watching as the movie unfolds before you. It’s only with the wiggle of your hips that he grabs your waist to halt your movements. He could almost feel the smirk you’re making. “I missed you.” He tries bringing your attention elsewhere. “I can tell.” There’s a smile in your tone. He stutters, “You’re- you’re horrible.” There’s a rude giggle you let out, it’s normally cute, but he’s already thinking of different ways he can get you to shut up. You chide, “How much…”  His brain feels muddled when you roll your hips, unable to fully catch on the words you say. “How much do you miss me Kyky…” You repeat, voice sticky and tantalizing. His hands control the move of your hips, strong and desperate. The tingle in your stomach reverberates to your core, excitement drips on the cotton of your underwear, the nightie you're wearing hiked up to your hips, allowing you to leave a wet patch on Kylian’s sweats. He whimpers almost, “I wanna fuck you into the couch, fuck you till you can’t talk anymore.” “You can’t- You’re the one who can barely talk.” Your words nearly betray you, Kylian’s rocking into your underwear causing it to ride between the mounds of your ass, the hands that were last on your waist now groping your tits. “I’m gonna fuck you till you lose the attitude.” There’s a pause in the air where all movement had stopped.  You break, turning into a mess of whines. It’s like a switch flipped when he straightens his back on the couch, sitting you both up effortlessly. 

His fingers draw a line between the apex of your thighs as he tangles his legs with yours, spreading you open. You’re getting impatient as he trails closer and closer, lips leaving open mouth kisses on your neck to your shoulders.

He pulls your panties to the side, flicking your clit to tease, you’re about to curse him out when you cut yourself off with a pant. His fingers are circling on your clit till it turns hard. It's too much, too quick, but he’s tenacious in his movements–consistent. If he’s like this now, you can barely imagine what he’d be like later. Your hips grind into his lap to retort, but you stop moving when your orgasm suddenly rips through you. You try closing your legs, squirming in his grip but he’s unmoving, you’re open and held to him. Exposed. He doesn’t stop rubbing, your pants turn into mewls, your body wants to grind back but also stay away. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry…” He pauses, a smirk gracing his lips. “I didn’t even fuck you yet.” He almost laughs at your dispair. Slowly he untangles your legs, putting you aside on the couch. There’s an ache between your legs that doesn’t seem to go away. He positions your ass up, you let him, he’s behind you now. You can move your legs yourself, maybe you can even hold yourself up on your elbows, but you don’t find it in you to try. It’s a lewd sight, your wet puffy cunt, aching and clenching at nothing. You’re a puddle when you feel the thick head of his cock prod your entrance, it’s relief and too much at the same time. Kylian groans, his palm bending your spine to arch so he can enter you at an angle, deeper. It’s messy, and rough but it’s also slow. You’re drooling on the couch, your nightie was on the floor with his discarded pants, your underwear–you didn’t even notice he’d taken your underwear off. He’s bottoming out into you and it feels like you’re struggling to breathe.

it’s as if he reads your mind when you feel his fingers grab you by the neck, halting your breath when he pulls you up. His heartbeat is on your back but you’re sure yours is rippling louder than his. You wanna say something, cough, or breathe but you can’t. The lack of air turns you into liquid threatening to slide off flat onto the surface– you can feel pressure but you don’t know if it’s in your head. Whimper stuck in your throat, your fingers tremble, tapping at Kylian’s to tell him you’re on the verge of blacking out.

“Want me to let go?”  His fingers tighten on the sides of your throat, gasps replacing your futile attempts at talking. He leaves a small peck on the side of your forehead, Fine, he says dismissively.

You nearly cum when you breathe out, air filling your lungs and your rotting brain but there's a feeling in your stomach that pauses you in your tracks. The sight underneath you leaves a breathless sob to escape your lips. “Kyky, what did you–” “I let go. Didn’t you want that?” His tone is mocking the same way his hands knead the flesh of your thighs, boasting his ability to breathe with the air fanning your ear, contrast to your stuttered breathing. Kylian groans, he isn’t sure if it’s because your nails are digging into his forearm or from how tight your pussy’s clenching him. You couldn’t believe it. He choked you till he’s completely bottomed out in your stomach. He wipes the tear running down your cheek, “What? Baby thinks it’s too much?” “Mmngh-” His hand is back on your throat, pulling back till he’s completely out of you. He could feel the whine in your throat that escapes with the sudden buck of his hips. The sound of his hips meeting your bounce off the walls of the room. It’s slow and rough and nothing short of dirty. 

Kylian dips his head to meet yours in a kiss. It’s sweet for the most part. His lips are soft and warm against yours, attentive and pliant. But it turns rough when he remembers where he is, he rolls his cock into you again, head brushing the spongy part deep inside you. Kylian swallows your moans with each stutter of his hips.

The only time you part is when you need to take a breather but that seems to be a struggle from the start. “I missed you. Was thinking of you in the plane. Did you, fuck, miss me?” You nod, unable to form any words. He’s laughing in your ear, watching as you grind back to meet his movements. You give no response, just thin gasps, it annoys Kylian–he lets you get off for two seconds and you forget he’s there. He tsks, pinching your clit out of spite, a high whine escapes you, your legs tremble. 

He repeats his question, voice deeper now, treading between incoherent words and grunts. You moan at his roughness, “I waited, all week for you. I– I missed you so much.” You looked completely gone, babbling with spit and tears coating your flushed face, hair sticking to your forehead, skin salty with sweat. Completely ruined. Yeah? He whispers without the intention of waiting for an answer. Your moans stutter as he pumps faster onto you, your throat turning hoarse. “‘M cumming, ‘M gonna cum-” He doesn’t care, it isn’t new that you get off so fast, he just keeps at it, fucking you to your orgasm. Kylian already let go of your neck by this time, hands using your arms as handles and pumping into you to chase his own high. Sweat trickles down his forehead as deep groans erupt from his throat. The buck of his hips are rougher now, faster. You know he’s near. Your legs shake, his groans turn close to whimpers blending with your own. Your pussy flutters, his cock twitching in you, enough to snap the coil in both of you. He breathes hard, wetness dribbles down your thighs. His hips roll, fucking his seed back into you. “Kylian.” You whine, everything was sensitive. Your boyfriend apologizes, leaving a peck on the back of your neck. There’s a small chuckle he leaves out, you don’t know why he’s laughing. “What is it?” “You left the TV on.”

[edenmemes]

resident evil: 4 remake starters

❝ man, that stinks. ❞ ❝ this just keeps getting worse. ❞ ❝ you’re still a kid holding onto fantasies of what’s right and wrong. ❞ ❝ i’m gonna let you in on a little secret. just between us. ❞ ❝ the hell is going on? ❞ ❝ hey, we’re a team, right? ❞ ❝ where’s everyone going? bingo? ❞ ❝ you and me are two sides of the same coin. ❞ ❝ that’s just like you. you always had poor judgement. ❞ ❝ ah, so you aren’t heartless after all. ❞ ❝ like i told you, i’m gonna get you home safe. ❞ ❝ i’m not falling for your mind games. ❞ ❝ you proved you can handle yourself. ❞ ❝ you haven’t changed a damn bit. ❞ ❝ you look like you’ve got something to say. ❞ ❝ gotta fix everything myself. ❞ ❝ you can’t run. you got to keep moving forward. ❞ ❝ you’re nothing but an extra in my script. ❞ ❝ i thought you were gonna die. ❞ ❝ i don’t pay you to ask questions. ❞ ❝ there’s no time for resting. ❞ ❝ revenge? you think i’m doing all this...for revenge? ❞ ❝ i need you to trust me, and do exactly as i say. ❞ ❝ you’re too soft to do what’s necessary. ❞ ❝ i know your potential better than anyone. ❞ ❝ you’ve made it all this way, but you haven’t learned a thing. ❞ ❝ maybe you’ll live to meet me again. ❞ ❝ the most important thing in this world is pure, unadulterated power. ❞ ❝ i’ve something to ask you...but i don’t think i’ll get a straight answer. ❞ ❝ you didn’t answer my question. what’re you after? ❞ ❝ you know, you were always an asshole. ❞ ❝ you have a strange sense of humor. ❞ ❝ you are nothing if not unyielding. ❞ ❝ i just wanna feel good about myself. make amends. or something like that. ❞ ❝ just give me a heads-up before you stab me next time, okay? ❞ ❝ it’s okay to be afraid, you know. ❞ ❝ what do you think? people can change, right? ❞ ❝ not looking good, eh, my friend? ❞ ❝ you try to save one person; a hundred others die. ❞ ❝ was that an act of defiance? against me? ❞ ❝ a well-tuned weapon can make up for a lack of skill. ❞ ❝ i’ll let myself out. ❞ ❝ you won’t get away with this. ❞ ❝ be a shame to live the rest of your life wondering ‘what if’ - am i right? ❞ ❝ you have the stench of battle on you. ❞ ❝ so, tell me, why did you come to this horrible place? ❞ ❝ you wanna help? cause i could use it. ❞ ❝ if i could just forget what happened that night, the pain - even for a second... ❞ ❝ i knew i could count on you. ❞ ❝ i think you’d be pretty dashing in it. ❞ ❝ i’m not used to having such good company. ❞ ❝ hey. it’s dangerous outside. ❞ ❝ god damn...i was almost a pancake. ❞ ❝ a lot of people have gone missing around here. and it’s been like that for a while now. ❞ ❝ sorry. i, uh, screwed up. ❞ ❝ i’m so scared. when that happened...i wasn’t myself any more. ❞ ❝ well done. you’ve proven yourself reliable. ❞ ❝ won’t be going anywhere in this thing. ❞ ❝ sorry, didn’t realize that was yours. ❞ ❝ this time, it can be different. it has to. ❞ ❝ everything will work out just fine. ❞ ❝ you missed. that’s not like you. ❞ ❝ come to my rescue, prince charming! ❞ ❝ sometimes it’s more fun not knowing. ❞ ❝ if you do well, i’ll make it worth your while. ❞ ❝ that hurts, you know. ❞ ❝ this is one hell of a gloomy place. ❞ ❝ why help me, though? what’s in it for you? ❞ ❝ oh, well, maybe just untie me then? ❞ ❝ knowledge is power. remember that. ❞ ❝ i can’t tell if that’s meant to be a compliment. ❞ ❝ i’m sure you’ll do your best to help me. ❞ ❝ bill me for the repairs later. ❞ ❝ it seemed like you really wanted to talk. ❞ ❝ you know, those things will kill you. ❞ ❝ you haven’t changed. you just think you have. ❞ ❝ don’t let the smallfry distract you from the big fish. ❞ ❝ quiet type, eh? ❞ ❝ guess you picked the wrong spot to vacation. ❞ ❝ a most warm welcome to my castle. ❞ ❝ bet you’ve been in spots like this before. ❞ ❝ to think you could be this foolish. ❞ ❝ give me a break already. ❞ ❝ i’m sorry. i wish i could do more to help. ❞ ❝ i don’t want to recall what happened down there. ❞ ❝ years haven’t been kind to us, i suppose. ❞ ❝ finally, some peace and quiet. ❞ ❝ who are you? and what are you doing here? ❞ ❝ i’m just an average guy who happens to be quite the ladies’ man. ❞ ❝ you should really be telling me what a good job i did. ❞ ❝ is this the first time you coughed up blood like this? ❞ ❝ so much for helping me. ❞ ❝ so, who are you working for this time? ❞ ❝ you think i’m gonna give up that easily? ❞ ❝ hey, are you sure you’re good? ❞ ❝ i’m gonna get you home safe. ❞ ❝ i have a plan. but you’re going to have to trust me. ❞ ❝ gimme some space. ❞ ❝ i don’t get you. why risk your life like this? ❞ ❝ it’s a little over-the-top, don’t you think? ❞ ❝ they’re coming! get behind me. ❞ ❝ does that hurt? are you in pain? distressed? ❞ ❝ you are really starting to become a giant pain in my ass. ❞ ❝ you know i don’t work and tell. ❞ ❝ you’ve done well to make it this far. ❞ ❝ tell someone who gives a shit. ❞ ❝ happy to help. now you owe me. ❞ ❝ are you just trying to use me again? ❞ ❝ what’re you, my mother? ❞ ❝ i’m definitely gonna catch a cold. ❞ ❝ this artwork...doesn’t it look like it’s telling some kind of story? ❞ ❝ what do we do? there’s no way out. ❞ ❝ what’s wrong with wanting the same for myself? ❞ ❝ it’s a little old fashioned for my taste. ❞ ❝ you’re losing your cool. making mistakes. ❞ ❝ don’t scare me like that. ❞ ❝ you’re slow. and so goddamn weak. ❞ ❝ wow, you’ve really gone all out for me! you shouldn’t have. ❞ ❝ i will send you back to the hell you came from. ❞ ❝ heheh, having a rough day? ❞ ❝ the reaper comes for cowards and the careless alike. which are you? ❞ ❝ i’ve got to think. need to get my head straight. ❞ ❝ i shall leave tomorrow. go far away. ❞ ❝ here’s my question...have you changed? ❞ ❝ we will beat this. together. ❞ ❝ what’s wrong? show no mercy! ❞ ❝ i admit - you’ve done well to stay alive this long. ❞ ❝ this means death. a slow, miserable death. ❞

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 11- Sakaguchi Ango/Reader with kinks Sitting Cowgirl/(Onsen)Bath Sex

Notes:this is almost entirely created out of horny daze from that one clip of dub Ango saying ‘you nasty man’ about Dazai and i just uhhhhh. You know, in the real world Ango would totally be my type. I love skinny nerds with glasses. But my fictional type is 100% more problematic. Also I turned Ango into a simp. Oops. 

His assistant loved skirts. She loved wearing little patterned secretary skirts with cute little blouses and her hair piled all across his shoulders and Ango wanted to throw himself out of the second story window his office was located on. He really didn't want to be one of those employers, the gross bosses who intentionally dropped stuff on the ground to stare down their assistants' shirts or had fantasies about them during working hours. But it was really hard. It also didn't help that you were intelligent and pretty and smiled at him kindly and brought him coffee on all nighters and he had the tiniest little crush on you. 

It had all started a few months ago, when Ango had finally been convinced to hire an assistant to deal with the workload he was drowning under. And he had hired you because you were intelligent and had an excellent resume, he would confess but also his jaw almost hit the floor the second you strutted into the room in your little red kitten heels, red flowy top and black skirt. You were drop dead gorgeous, and if he was being honest that was probably a huge part of the reason he hired you in the first place. But he was starting to regret it. It's not like you were incompetent, not far from it. You were extremely smart and kind and had been a great help to him over these last few months, it wasn't that. You were too perfect. You were smart and pretty and kind and he was a weak, sleep deprived man starved for affection who hadn't touched a woman in way too long and he maybe had a little crush on you. 

And ok, he thought as he caught himself daydreaming about your future wedding for the fifth time today, maybe it was a little more than a crush, maybe he was actually in love with you. Ok not maybe, he totally was. But could you really blame him? You looked lovely in the white(hence the wedding fantasies) blouse and blue skirt you had chosen for today, and it didn't help that it was low cut, showing Ango(and everyone else) the most teasing bit of delicious cleavage. And Ango hated the world because he had a meeting today and he knew all the similarly overworked and horny men would spend the entire time staring at His assistant, and then they would come over here all the time just to look at you and one of them would probably offer you a higher salary and steal you away right from under his nose—

“Mr Sakaguchi? I have the documents you wanted.” You're back from the front office and looking at him quizzically, a manila folder in your outstretched hand. Ango pushes up his glasses and gives you a sharp nod. “Wonderful, thank you.” He needs to get back to work and stop daydreaming or it's another sleepless night for him. “Please start the booking process for the company trip.” With a nod and a smile you turn, the sway of your hips horribly distracting as you make your way to your desk. Your desk is next to his, which is a really good thing because now if he stares at you it will be really obvious and his pride will help him focus on his work. 

But his work is boring and you are pretty and even though he has to actively turn his head he still catches himself staring at you. You look so pretty, typing away at your desk, occasionally catching your lip in your teeth distractingly. No, he has to focus on the documents, no matter how boring they are, he really, really doesn't want to stay overnight but maybe if he did you would stay too and then he would get even less work done. Anyway he can see it, he's screwed. He’s down bad and there's nothing he can do about it. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You really didn't even want to think about how you had ended up in this situation. Sharing a private Onsen and a room with your boss who you MAYBE, possibly, had a small miniscule crush on. You glared at the screen of your laptop dubiously, taking your anger and embarrassment out on the well worn keys of your old laptop. It was old, and a portion of the screen was completely black, but you loved the thing. And you didn't want to transfer all the data you had over here to a new laptop, that was more trouble than it was worth. 

And anyway, this situation was partly your fault. You had been dead tired when you booked this place. An Onsen was a classic choice for a work trip, and although this one was kind of expensive, only four people from your department could even make it. So low numbers ment less expenses, and also meant you could afford to splurge a little. So you booked two rooms, one for you and Akane, and another for your boss, Ango, and your coworker Jerry.

But anyway, you had thought you were going to share a room with your coworker, Akane, but she had decided to demand she share with her boyfriend, and you had jumped at the chance, thinking you would get a private room. But no, now you were sharing with your handsome boss. You really didn't understand why Akane was dating Jerry anyway. She was drop dead gorgeous, with long straight black hair and big, doll-like eyes. And Jerry was kind of, just average. But he was nice, you supposed, and that was just the way of the world. 

A knock sounded on the sliding door panel, and Ango peaked his head in. He sent you an apologetic little smile, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“It's time for dinner. We’re eating in Akane and Jerry’s room.” you closed your computer with a nod, standing up and following him out of the room and into the hall. It was silent, and the air hung with a strange awkward air. You coached, trying to make conversation. “I'm sorry this happened, Mr Sakaguchi.” You can't see his face from where you are, but he clears his throat. “It's alright, really.” You sigh silently to yourself. From his tone it sounds like he really doesn't want to share with you. It hurts, just a little. You ignore the panging in your chest and sigh. “I'm really sorry Sir, I would have liked to share with Akane, but she can be really convincing sometimes.” Ango’s shoulders stiffen, and he nods jerkally, with an awkward chuckle. “Yes, I suppose so.” And the both of you pad down the rest of the hall in awkward silence.

There is a large table set out in Akane and Jerry’s room, laden with delicious dishes. Your mouth waters, and you shove aside your hurt feelings for now and dig into the spread of delicious food before you. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You're left alone in the room, for now at least. Ango had informed you that he was heading out to the store to grab a few things, and promptly left you to yourself. The hot spring water is a soft milky white, and the steam rising off the surface scatters as your toe skims the surface. Ripples mar the previously untouched water as you slowly make your way in. The pool is large, about five feet in diameter and rounded, with decorative rocks by the wooden bamboo fence. Little plants run along the fence, ferns and pretty white flowers. The ceiling is painted with a beautiful starry night scene, to give the illusion of outdoors, and fake candles hide in the plants.

The address sitting by, the one that faces the room is more modern, with a thin Rock Ledge and a small basket for your towel. The fluffy white towels were provided with the room, along with some complimentary Yukata and only one futon, because of course. You think all the way into the water letting the soothing warmth sink into your bones. The ledge you are sitting on is beneath the water allowing the milky warm water to almost completely cover your breasts. You sigh, and lean your head back, closing your eyes. 

What a long, tiring, day it had been. First the long drive up, and then this dress of your co-workers insisting they share a room, and just because they were dating. And then after all of that along awkward dinner with your boss while the two of you watched your co-workers cuddle and feed each other the entire time. And then they had ditched both of you to definitely fuck. Yeah, so much fun.

You sighed, trying to cheer yourself up. You were being a bit grumpy after Akane had ditched you for her boyfriend. You considered her a good work friend, and even though you knew she was trying to set you up with Ango, you were still a bit salty. But honestly, it wasn't even that bad. The Onsen was lovely, and the food was delicious. The water was warm and delicious and soothed your bones, and you couldn't help the hopeful feeling that rose in your stomach. Maybe, something will finally happen between you and Ango. Even if the relationship was kind of inappropriate and you didn't think he liked you like that. You sighed, breathing deeply. 

The sound of the sliding door pulled you out of your musings. “Akane, that you?” You called, she had said she would stop by later. “You better have a good apology ready, girl.”The Intruder coughed, a distinctly masculine sound and your eyes shot open. And of course, because the gods were laughing at you, there stood Ango. He coughs again, cheeks pink and eyes avoiding your own. “Not Akane. Sorry. Um, I'll just go.”  he sounds strangely flustered, an emotion you haven't seen him express that often. You can't help it, you give him a potentially flirty smile. “You should come in, sir. The waters really nice.” Ango coughs again, his face turning redder, and you watch as his eyes dart between your collarbones and your face. 

And you really shouldn't, you know you shouldn't, but a theory is forming. A dangerous, sexy, hopeful theory. A theory that maybe, your boss has as much of a crush on you as you do on him. But, your theory needs more data, and so you rise slightly from the water, putting on an innocent smile. “You should really come in sir, and anyway, I need to talk to you. Mei was informing me the other day about some potential data leaks.” You turn with a smile, showing just enough cleavage to be a tease, but enough to spare your dignity if he declines. 

The man himself is still standing by the doorway, probably weighing the pros and cons behind those glasses of his. He’s still wearing his work suit, although his jacket hangs on a coat rack near the door, and he’s rolled up his sleeves a little, exposing his delicate wrists and hands. His hands are pretty, long pale fingers, ribbed slightly with blue veins, the skin slightly transparent. You want those fingers inside of you. Ango lets out the sigh of a very tired man, and with a push of his glasses, gives you a small nod. “I'll join you then.” He says, disappearing behind the bathroom door with a small smile. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

This is honestly a disaster for his sanity. Ango knows it's a terrible idea, but he took one look at your smile and heard the damning words ‘data leak’ and feared for his future. Both for embarrassing himself and losing more sleep. He can hear faint splashing as he disrobes, folding his clothes and wrapping a towel around his hips to hopefully spare his dignity, at least until he inevitably gets hard and has to drown himself out of mortification. 

He peaks around the door, and his eyes catch on your back, the bit he can see above the water anyway. All he can see is the top of your shoulders, and of course your neck, as you’ve drawn your hair up. And somehow, that's actually worse because you're obviously naked but he still doesn't get a proper view. It feels like a tease. He takes a deep breath, straightens his shoulders and walks towards the hot springs. He’s grateful that you keep your view on the fence as he removes the towel and quickly slips into the milky water, sitting as far away from you as he can without being obvious about it, which is about three feet. You open your eyes, shooting him a little smile. “It's nice isn't it?” You say, leaning towards him slightly. Ango watches as more and more of your clear skin is revealed, and yanks his eyes away from the top of your cleavage, meeting your eyes. “The water? Um, yes it's very nice.” 

He doesn't have his glasses on, and you make a dangerously sexy picture, what with the slight fuzziness maring the edge of his vision. The world behind you is blurry, and not of any importance. It's almost like a photograph, with you at the center. You seem to have gotten slightly closer, and Ango can pick out a mole on your collarbone. It naturally drags the eye to it, and that is definitely why he has a hard time yanking his eyes away from it. “So.” He says, clearing his throat. “You said something about Data leaks?” Is it his imagination or are you leaning closer. He can smell you now, that damn orange blossom perfume that taunts his dreams. 

You're definitely moving closer. “Yes, Mei informed me that some of the files from the classified cases have vanished.” Your smile is too seductive. He must be projecting. You continue. “I think it was files…oh i don't know, ill have to clarify with Mei.” 

Ango clears his throat, focusing his eyes somewhere over your left shoulder. “The classified cases? Potentially how bad are we talking.” He says. You clear your throat, drawing his eyes back to you. At least he can focus on your face. It's very pretty, but at least it does not create problems other than speeding up heart rate. 

“Um, I believe Mei said it was some files about the Hunting Dogs? Specifically Fukuchi.” You lean back against the side of the Onsen, closing your eyes. “I think it was investigative data pulled out of a port mafia exec? Strange little details and stuff like that.” 

The stuff your saying is very concerning, and usually Ango would be having a mini heart attack, but right now your naked and you're less than a foot away from him and all Ango can picture, instead of the sleepless nights he’ll be having soon, is you on top of him, bouncing up and down. You’d sound pretty, he knows it. It's one of his most recurring fantasies, you naked atop him, bouncing up and down and moaning his name. He had it the first time in the middle of a meeting, and he would have been more embarrassed but he knew for a fact that half the men in the room were fantasizing about you. It was still embarrassing though. 

You're so pretty, with your hair pulled up into a messy bun, a few strands falling out and brushing your neck, daring Ango to lay pretty kisses to it. You would look so pretty covered in hickeys, or dressed in pure white at the end of a wedding aisle. Because Ango is quite sure you're the one. You're pretty and smart and kind and so, so sexy and Ango wants to have babies with you. And maybe he’s a little far gone and this entire thing is kind of pathetic and sad but right now he can't bring himself to care because you're smiling at him and Ango is just a sad little man with a sad little crush. Or he can't really call it a crush anymore, can he. He’s quite plainly in love with you. 

“Ango? Are you listening?” Your saying. He looked up guiltily, because he wasn't listening. And now he just noticed you called his name, not his last name, not sir, and he loves it. Maybe a little too much. You sigh, and Ango watches in slow motion as you move closer still. The water ripples as you move, and Ango sees flashes of nipple below the milky surface. He almost chokes on his own spit. 

“Anyay, as I was saying. I think some of it…” You lean closer, and whisper in his ear. “Some of it was from Ace? About Demon Fyodor.” This is important stuff you're talking about, but then again you're also really close to him and you smell like orange blossoms and your boobs brush him under the water and Ango’s hard. He’s definitely hard and he can still feel your nipple brushing against his arm under the water and there's no way you dont feel it because how couldn't you. And now your shooting him fuck me eye’s and Ango knows you’re doing this on purpose. And all at once he feels a sense of relief and embarrassment at the same time and then, he feels your hand grip his wrist, and pull it, ever so slowly, to your chest. Your skin is soft, your nipple hard beneath his palm and as Ango’s hand comes in contact with it, his dick jumps under the water. 

“Um, Name? Wh-what are you doing?” He says, trying to get ahold of his voice. He fails. You're smirking at him, because even as he protests, his hand is still on your boob. 

“I really like you, Ango.” You say, moving closer until you're pressed as close as you can be, your shoulders touching. “I would like to go out with you, if you feel the same.” Ango cant breath, because he’s a simp and the woman he was just imagining in a wedding gown likes him too, and he needs to respond. “I like you too, I really do.” He says. “I was wondering if maybe you want to get coffee sometime? And maybe kiss me? Please kiss me.” 

“I'd love to get coffee. And kiss you too.” You're smiling, less sexily now and more just happily, and Ango’s smiling too, and now you're crawling onto his lap, and pressing your lips to his. And Ango’s dreamed of this, many different times but none of those fantasies can compare to the real thing. It's just a soft press of lips at first, a chaste, deep kiss. A kiss that tells of love and devotion, and less of carnal lust. And it's lovely, so wonderful and Ango’s heart is singing in his chest, and it's just all so wonderful. 

It feels heavenly, like kissing heaven, because you are heaven, and your boobs are pressing into his chest and he can feel his dick pressing against your stomach and he wants to just enjoy the kiss but the slight bit of pressure makes his kisses turn desperate, and now he’s gripping your head, trying to inhale ever bit of your being through your mouth. Your so pretty, so sexy, so attractive and smart and he really wants to fuck you, so bad. He presses his tongue against the seam of your mouth, asking, begging really for entrance. You grant it, and your tongues tangle together, a dance of devotion, now turning to carnal lust. A desire to know one another through your bodies, to feel each other's feelings, really, truly and deeply. 

You break away, panting against his mouth, and Ango feels you grind down, taking your pleasure against his legs. “God, I want you inside of me.” You pant against his mouth. Ango nods, begging you to have your way, pleading for your salvation. Your hands reach between the two of you, and Ango bites his lip as he feels your hands on his cock positioning it, and then he feels a hot pressure envelop the head. 

He bites back another moan, instead opting to watch you as you bite your lip, and slowly sink down the length of his cock, enveloping him in your tight, wet heat. It's so hot, everything is hot. From the onsen water surrounding him, to your body pressed against his, to your panted breaths by his ear as you collapse against him grinding your body slowly.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

It's always the nerdy ones who are huge. You're panting against his neck, slowly grinding in circular motions. His dick scrapes against your walls deliciously, his little bitten back whimpers make your pussy clench around him. It's all so hot, so big, so steamy. You slowly rise, dropping down again, and repeat. He spares you deep, so deep. You whimper in his ear. 

“God Ango. god your fucking me so deep.” You moan in his ear, his hair tickling your skin. He lets out a bitten little grunt, hands anchored on your ass, helping your slow thrusts. “I've wanted this for so long.” Ango pants out, his voice all soft and raspy, delicious hands helping another thrust. “Used to stare at your ass in those skirts. Tried not to, I'm sorry.” He sounds so wrecked and pathetic it turns you on. And besides, the tough of straight laced Ango taking peeks at your ass thrilled you. 

“Aww, did you like those skirts?” You coo. He moans, his dick twitching inside of you. “I bet you peaked down my shirt too.” 

“I did, ‘m sorry. You were so pretty and so sexy and—” you shut him up with a kiss. His kisses are deep, full of devotion and lust, almost as if he’s trying to mold himself into you. His dick is wrecking your insides, each deep thrust giving you a dizzy shot of pleasure. And with each grind, your clit rubs against his pubic bone, driving you absolutely crazy. You can tell he feels the same, each painted grunt and moan in your ear is a dead giveaway. You're not much better though, and you kiss his neck, trying to muffle your moans. 

“Let me hear them.” Ango pants against you, hands gripping your ass in handfuls. “Wanna hear your pretty moans.” He sounds wrecked too, and you can't even bring yourself to be embarrassed anymore. You let your moans out, letting them echo around the space. It's all so steamy and intimate. 

You feel your orgasm building in your gut, and you pull your face away from his neck, meeting his eyes. You're looking down on him from here, and it's quite the sexy view. He’s pretty toned, especially because he spends all of his time in an office, but the most catching thing is his eyes. They're locked on your own, hazy and half lidded with lust, and swimming with so much love and devotion you almost cum right there. 

“Ango, ‘m close.” You catch his attention, whimpering the words, whispering them, inches from his lips. He nods. “Me to my darling.” He says. The pet's name is so sweet, so devoted. It hurts your soul, and at the same time warms you from the inside out. But it's the next thing that gets you. “I love you Name.” He whispers, staring so deep into your eyes you might cry. 

You cum with a cry, the pleasure shooting through your body, the pure devotion in his eyes making your heart soar even as your pussy clenches around his dick. “Oh god, I love you too, Ango.” The words are a moan as you grip him close to you, grinding your clit frantically down on his as you clench. You hear him hiss, and then his dick twitches inside you, ropes of hot cum staining your insides. He comes with a tiny little whimper, muffled against your boobs, and the sweetest little whisper of ‘i love you.’ you kiss the words back. You guys sit like that for a long while, pressing little I love you’s into each other's skin, and as his dick comes back to life, making love until the morning.

...

Endnotes: I don't know how Japanese work trips work. I used what I've seen in anime and manga as a basis, and ran with that. I've also never been to an onsen. And it shows.also, have you guys seen that one Ango illustration with the kimono and the book, like i literally cannot do this anymore. I’ll link it for you https://www.pinterest.com/pin/146859637833737986/ 

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: (Duo POV) After a hunt gone wrong Dean falls sick. Now on his death bed Sam and Y/N do whatever it takes to save him from the void that is death, even if that means running into trouble.

Warnings: Cannon violence, Ansgt, hospitals, talk about dying and death, illness, heart issues, talk of past deaths, grief, Dean may be OOC or at least his inner thoughts but let me know, Historical and religious talk of the Celts and Christianity if anything is incorrect/ inaccurate pls tell me so I may fix it, cursing

A/N: Thank you so much for 100 followers, never thought this series would get so much love!

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn , @crazyunsexycool

Word Count: 15,139

Faith

(Master list, Prev. Ch, Next Ch)

I hate hospitals.

I hate hospitals, especially when it is someone you care about on the medical bed.

I hate hospitals, especially when you can’t be in the room with the person; when you have to sit in the waiting room with nothing but pure anxiety coursing through your veins, and everyone around you is in the same position.

At least Sam is with him, that must make both of them feel better. But it doesn't make me feel as better as it should, my leg bounces rapidly no distraction working for me. I tried reading and listening to music on my stupid iPod, but neither worked- not when my mind was going a hundred miles a minute on all the worst possibilities.

It wasn't meant to be a difficult hunt, going after a rawhead. Yet it all went wrong far too quickly, Dean yelled for Sam and I to get the children out of the basement while he stayed behind fighting the thing. It would be a single shot with a taser, easy to mess up on, truthfully, which is why I had given mine up for him to have as an extra one before I carried a young boy out. It was all wrong. So so wrong. He shot the thing but they both happened to be standing in a small puddle of water, and water conducts stupid electricity and he got hurt too.

Sam had found him. We called for an ambulance and rushed him to the hospital, he was unconscious the whole time.

Sam had to talk to the receptionist for insurance and then the cops explaining what happened and then a doctor. But they wanted to talk privately and he wanted to see Dean alone first. Which only increased my anxiety, Sam wouldn’t have done that unless something was horribly wrong. Something was horribly wrong. I felt like I was going to vomit or shake myself out of existence, maybe the latter would be better. Everyone around me wasn't much better, looking the same shade of nervousness. Some were crying, pacing, or on the phone talking rapidly. Hospitals were a horribly depressing place.

I’m unsure how much time passes, minutes, hours, an eternity? Sam walks towards me, tears in his eyes some clearly having spilled over by the redness of his cheeks. No. No. No.

I stand up walking to him almost without noticing as if it was all just natural, tears fill my own eyes and I can feel my hands shaking. No. No. He wouldn't be crying if–

“Sam?” I said weakly, my voice wobbling horribly. I swallow down a knot in my throat, this couldn't be happening. No.

He drops his head down, his hair covering his face and likely more tears that spilled over. “Sam,” I say again my voice breaking. I couldn't lose someone else, couldn't lose anyone else. He finally lifts his head, barely being able to hold eye contact. He seems to wobble and all at once he falls into me, I hold him, his head dropping awkwardly into my neck, from the height difference, broken sobs leaving his mouth. He hugs me tightly, grasping desperately to the back of my shirt. Something is horribly wrong. I blink back my tears, I had to be strong for Sammy. This was his brother, I might have lost both my parents but I couldn't imagine how it would feel to lose my brother.

My neck grows damp but I ignore it. I hold the back of his head, holding him, no comforting words forming in my mind. “Sam” I breathe. I felt like I was going insane. He pulls himself away, keeping me in arm's distance. His face is red and blotchy from crying, and his hair is a mess. “Please” I begged one last time, my voice quivering.

He sniffles hard, but I do not expect him to be strong, “He has a month, at best” his voice is coarse and shaky but the words feel like they came out in slow motion. Everything freezes, turning into a buzz of white noise. I can feel tears spill down my cheeks but I can’t move. I can’t. No. He can’t be dying. No. No. He wasn’t allowed to. The world seemed to shatter, no, maybe that was my heart. I can feel it beating in my ears, everything else fading away. His mouth moves, he is saying something else but I cannot hear him over the sterile noise of the world crumbling. I don't understand. My throat is so tight I feel like I might just break right there. My knees feel weak and the floor seems closer than before.

Sam pulls me into him, holding me tightly once again, his hands cradling my head as a choked sob leaves my lips. Tears pour down my eyes, he promised. All those months ago he promised he wouldn’t leave me, it was a stupid and fruitless promise but I believed it.

He couldn’t die. He can’t, he can’t die. No one else. Not again.

All too soon Sam pulls back, his arms being the only thing that seems to be holding me up. I can barely make out his features behind my own teary eyes. “He wanted me to come get you, ‘wouldn’t talk without you there” he croaks. A whole new sob breaks through my lips, I wasn't strong enough for this. I went through this twice, I could not take another. Tear after tear passes down my face, my cheeks stiff with it. I shake my head, this can’t be happening again, but even so, I let him pull me down the halls to his room trying my best to blink away my never-ending tears. But it was useless, not when it felt like I was being torn in two.

I stopped at the threshold of the doorway, he looked so weak, he was so pale and he had dark circles under his eyes that were not there hours before. An IV sticks out of his arm along with various machines around him, including an EKG. New tears fall over the rim of my eyes and I have to force my hand to clasp my mouth to hide another sob. Sam enters the room, his face hard and rid of any of the emotions he showed just moments ago. How could he do that?

Dean’s eyes are focused on the TV, but even from where I was partially hiding I could see his green eyes had grown dull, “Have you ever actually watched daytime TV? It's terrible” he jokes but he sounded weak too, his voice rid of its usual playful tone and familiar gruffness. Sam shakes his head and sighs, his ability to not break down in front of his brother was impressive to the point of it being scary, “I talked to your doctor.” But Dean continues to ignore anything that wasn’t that stupid TV playing commercials, “That fabric softener teddy bear. Oh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down” he responds instead. I want to laugh and ask him what the cute laundry bear ever did to him but I could not find it within me to be humorous, “Dean” I plead weakly my voice betraying me with its cracking. That gets his attention.

His eyes snapped up to where I stood, leaning against the doorframe to prevent myself from crumbling to the floor. His face immediately fills with worry, his eyes softening which is ironic considering who’s in the hospital bed. Without looking away from me he turned off the TV, I could tell he was thinking and worrying over something as he stared at me but I could not look at him without new tears falling. “Yeah. All right, well, ‘looks like you're gonna leave town without me” he finally says, my eyes snap back to him but he has already turned his attention to his brother. “What the hell are you talking about?” I step into the room, my sadness mixing too closely with frustration over his stupid declaration. “We are not gonna leave you here” Sam adds in sternly. “Hey, you better take care of that car” he points at Sam, any hint of a joke void from his voice, “Or, I swear, I'll haunt your ass.”

My eyebrows scrunched together, “what's wrong with you?” I accuse, “How are you just accepting this? You are young and have so much life ahead of you” For each word that passed my lips tears followed, my resolve too thin to exist. “You’re meant to grow old, and…and yell at kids to get off your lawn as you work on Baby and maybe other cars with a pet at your side and a lovely home. You’re meant to annoy your brother and me with stupid calls and the same old rock music.” I swallow roughly, ignoring the subtle shock on his face, “It’ll be beautiful and wonderful and we will all be there to watch it happen because you have to live.” My chest heaves, and I’m surprised I have any more tears to give. Life was too cruel before to allow me the opportunity to beg someone to stay as if that feat alone was enough to keep someone alive.

Silence envelopes the room, his eyes are wide and his lips are slightly agape. I don’t believe in God, but I would get on my knees right now and beg and plead and do anything he ever wanted if it meant Dean living. He sighs after what feels like forever, “Look, what can I say, it's a dangerous gig. I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story.” I don’t understand how he could just dwindle his life down to bad luck and a wrong straw. Tears well in my eyes and I have the urge to smack some sense into him. “Don't talk like that, alright? We still have options” Sam insists, his voice breaking slightly. “What options?” Dean asks, “Yeah, burial or cremation?” he pauses for a moment his “joke” not landing, “And I know it's not easy. But I'm gonna die. And you can't stop it.”

It felt like a punch to the gut. How many people will I have to lose until it's enough to feed the glutenous wrath of death? First, it was my mother growing sick and dying, neither my brother nor I was allowed to see her in such a state not even to say goodbye. Then my Dad, who grew reckless in the wake of his only love's death, the coldness about him we had heard about only in stories returning to consume him completely until he drove himself into the ground. I always thought I was most like my mother, but now in the wake of this maybe I am my father's daughter.

I wipe away my tears roughly before clenching my hands, needing my nails to dig into my palms to ground me. “Let me try and heal you,” I say as firmly as my voice will allow. I've never done such a thing on a serious scale, it never got to the point where I felt desperate enough to toe the line of my own morals. But this, for him I would and I would not stay awake at night contemplating my selfishness.

Dean’s POV

Her face was red from crying, and her e/c eyes were filled with deep sadness. She looked shattered, and even so, she was beautiful.

I know I wasn’t being fair to her or Sam. But I always knew I’d die on a hunt, I long accepted it so her big glossy eyes would do nothing to change that fact. Even if it broke her, both of them, which I knew I was already doing. But I also know that sugar-coated truths would only hurt them more, I wasn’t going to allow them to get hopeful not when it would ruin them.

“Please?” she pleads quietly. My resolve breaks, my heart lurches as if it was trying to get closer to her and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the heart attack.

This was for the better, if they saw nothing would work early on they’d hopefully accept my death quicker. Plus I knew she’d stay up every night wondering what more she could have done for me, she’d obsess over it until it broke her all over again. I give her a sharp nod not trusting my voice, her eyes seem to light up a little, and that enough was all the excuse I needed.

She steps closer to my bed, careful not to trip over the wires connecting to me. She got close enough where I could smell her perfume, something sweet and flowery, and undeniably her, I felt warmer just from her closeness. She swallows roughly, “It works better if I can touch you…without the barrier of clothes.” Under any other circumstance I would most likely be flustered by her shy request, I mean this is what I’ve always wanted– to have her. But time was not on my side and I’d never get a chance to tell her, whenever it was I planned on doing so– to do so now with only a week to live would be too cruel. If she didn't like me back I’d die at least knowing and maybe I’d die with a broken heart or whatever crap people complain about. But if she did like me, which Sam insists she does, then a week wouldn't be long enough.

I lift the scratchy hospital shirt, hoping neither saw how much energy the simple action took. She looked nervous as she stared at my bare chest but I could see the hard look of determination in her eyes, she needed this. Carefully she places her hands on the center of my chest, her hands freezing as I suspected they would be but I don't cower from her gentle touch I lean into it further. I bask in it, small sparks igniting where she touched and it had nothing to do with her abilities. She looks up at me, watching my face for any warnings as her own e/c eyes turn to purple and pure warmth extends from her palm seeping into my skin. Maybe I should have been scared, but she was looking at me so gently and she's so beautiful that she must be an angel, and I'm only half the man she deserves.

I suck in a deep breath, clarity hitting me like an arrow, the grogginess and pain I felt melting into a puddle and being replaced with her. It felt like she was cradling my heart, caressing it gently like she would my face, her kindness and love seeping into the vessel, and truthfully I don't ever want it back. She could have my heart. She could have every part of me, and I'd never ask for it back. It's hers. I'm hers. My mouth fell agape, her hair fell onto her face, and I could feel it in my bones. I could feel the tension leave my shoulders and it was like everything I'd been carrying was lifted away. I don't care if she was healing me or not, I want her hands on me, I want to feel her. Just her. She was the sun and I was a fool begging to be closer, even if it burned, even if it was impossible.

Her hands begin to shake violently, but she pushes on, she holds on to me. Her fingers look like they want to curl and dig into my skin and it's clear she's fighting against the instinct, she doesn't want to hurt me not that I would mind any marks she printed into my skin. She lets her head hang, closing her eyes, “Oh fuck” she whines quietly and I have to desperately keep my mind clean. ‘Not the time to have those thoughts or acknowledge how hot that was. I lift a hand pushing her hair out of her face and behind her ear, keeping my hand there to hold her. Again I have to force away any ideas of what noises I could get her to make in a similar position. She looks up at me from her lashes as she bites down on her bottom lip hard, and I wonder how much longer I can keep my mind clean.

Suddenly deep crimson drips down her upper lip, and she begins to shake more. “Wait, wait Y/N” I breathe, looking from her over to Sam with concern. He pulls her off of me, she looks drained and paler than I know I am. She wipes at her nose, the blood has seemingly stopped, but she still shakes and wobbles. Sam pushes her down onto a nearby seat and I pull down my shirt, “How do you feel?” he asks me. “Peachy” I respond, smirking. He rolls his eyes, “I’m being serious. Did it work?”

“I feel better, not as weak” I answer truthfully. She nodded her head, her voice quieter than moments before, “Call for a nurse we should see if anything physically changed.”

“What about you? What was all that?” I ask. She shrugs, “‘Never really done it on a scale like this before, but it takes a lot out of you.”

Your POV

The doctor finally comes back, sifting through the papers on his clipboard, he looks shocked and confused which I hope is for the better because being lightheaded and on the verge of passing out would be worth it. “‘Looks like there has been some improvement, which would explain why you feel better,” he says, the room growing quiet with hope, “The difference is slight but well enough to know it wasn't a fluke” he looks up, “But I’d say it wasn't enough to change the outcome, I’m sorry.” Somehow the second time was worse. Hope was worse. “Thank you, Doctor” Sam replies sadly, and with a nod, the doctor leaves but does not take our sorrow with him.

“I can keep trying. Eventually, it will add up, and the more I do it the longer I’d be able to go” I offer, desperation clear on my tongue that it's almost embarrassing. “We can keep trying that but we should look at other options too” Sam adds. I nod my head vigorously in agreement. “You shouldn't get your hopes up, I’ve already accepted I’m gonna die you should too” Dean responds instead.

“Not happenin’” Sam retorts.

After we used up all our visiting hours we headed to the library, skipping out on eating to research for hours on both supernatural and not– just anything related to heart conditions and healing. I didn't ask why Sam didn't stay with his brother, he was family so he didn't have to follow visitation hours but I also figured he would rather spend his time trying to find a solution. Currently, Sam went the more “normal” route, pulling and printing articles on heart surgeries and other doctor stuff while calling several people. At the same time, I delved into the dark that is the unnatural.

Sam left a while ago, heading back to the motel with all his articles. I insisted on staying behind to “look for more,” in reality, I was going to make a call. The library closed in less than an hour and I already researched several Gods associated with healing, the side of my hand had turned dark with the ink stains. Though it was unsuccessful it was helpful for two reasons; one I at least looked, meaning it was one more thing I could check off, and two it pushed me to make a call I wasn't sure I was ready for.

What I needed was to be home, to look through many books on mythology and witchcraft, there I would find something but that was halfway across the country and each day that passed would be a day wasted. And teleporting books here wouldn't be helpful when there were so many of them and I wasn't sure where I would even begin.

I stare at my phone on the table, this shouldn't be a big deal. I call her all the time, well not as of late which I already got yelled at for. No, none of that mattered. She could lecture me a hundred times or resent me for months. I needed to help Dean. I swiftly pick up my phone, scrolling down to her contact, I don't hesitate to hit “call”, I’ve already hesitated too many times today.

The phone rings three times before she picks up, “Adeline” I start my voice already cracking with emotion. I can almost hear her jump to her feet, “Y/N?! What happened? Where are you? Are you safe? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I did not think I had any more tears left but was proven wrong when another tear slipped down my cheek, “Dean he’s…” I couldn’t say it, couldn't make it more real than it already was. I swallow roughly, trying to cram down my emotions for the time being, I’ve cried enough today, “Dean he’s dying, and I don't know–” a strangled sob leaves my lips and I have to force myself together resting my head on my hand for support, “I don't know what to do” I finished weakly. I hear her suck in a deep breath and it only makes me feel worse, “I-I want help…I need help,” I add, “I tried healing him, the doctor said the effect was minor but I’m gonna keep doing it, even if it takes a lot out of me.”

She exhales, “I’m really sorry Y/N”. I shake my head even though I know she can't see me. I ignored her comment, there was nothing to be sorry for because he was going to be alright, “Do you have any ideas? Maybe I’m doing something wrong or could be doing it better?”

She goes quiet again and it is hard to hold on to hope, “please,” I say quietly hoping she can hear me. She clears her throat, her voice cold and serious, “I’d try some herbal tea, one with healing properties any one of it will help or at least make him more comfortable.” I hum picking up my pen again, writing ‘herbal tea’ on my arm, I didn’t want to risk forgetting.

She sighs again, but it isn’t disappointed or even exhausted, “Don’t…don’t get your hopes up.” I shake my head vigorously again, “I’m not listening to this. I called for help cause you’re the only person I can think of who would know even a wisp of this. I’m desperate for help, not a lecture.” I know I was being cruel, ‘could hear it. She wasn’t trying to hurt me. “No, Y/N please listen. This isn’t an easy task, honestly, I’d like to say it’s impossible but I don’t want you to hang up on me. This doesn't come without great sacrifice.”

“And what if I’m okay with that?” I snap back, “I’m willing to sacrifice.”

“This is different,” she spits a hint of anger on her tongue, “I don’t mean just going against everything you believe in or against your mother's words. I mean making deals with demons, where you could lose your soul or your life or what makes you whole or maybe even worse.” I go quiet. I know she’s right, she always is. But I know my answer, I know what I’m willing to do, “I said I’m willing to make sacrifices.”

“Are you?” she counters. And without hesitation, I answer, “I love him.” I could tell she was getting frustrated with me, for not listening to her warning or taking her seriously even though I was. Of course, I know this is dark and messy territory, but that did not concern me. I can hear her swallow, her voice turning hard again, “What you would need to do would be more than love him.”

“Would it?” I counter.

“Yes,” she replies sternly, “And I won’t help you with that.” It was hard to be mad at her, she was just watching out for me trying to protect me. That was her job after all. But I wanted so desperately for him to be okay, he had to be. “Whether you help me or not, I will do everything in my power to fix this. He won't die.”

“I know you will. That’s what scares me.”

My eyebrows furrow, “I don’t understand.”

“I hope you never will,” she huffs out a breath, “I don’t want you to regret anything.” I couldn't vocalize it, did not even know how to make her understand what I felt–that even if I lost him now if I never saw him again. If I sat on his grave weeping for the man I loved with new flowers in my hand each day and each year. If I never got to hold his hand again. If I never got to see him smile again– that cocky smile. Even if I never got to tell him that I loved him…even then, I would never regret knowing him. Never regret the first time we met and never, never regret loving him. But I don’t say that, instead settling for, “I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

She turns serious once more, determined even, “You won’t. I’m on my way to your place now, I’ll go through your books, and I’ll call you back the second I find something.” She may not agree with my decisions all the time, and might even be upset that we don’t talk as much anymore but at the end of the day we’re best friends–more than that really, “Thank you, Adeline.”

“Of course, now don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” she laughs lightly, “I love you, talk to you later.” I smile for the first time in hours, “I love you too, be safe.”

I let myself into the motel room. Sam doesn’t look up from his place on the bed, papers surround him, some in the garbage which I assume were ones that won't work out. I make my way to the small table in the corner of the room, avoiding looking at where Dean slept the night before. I take out my spellbook, my small journal, and my laptop. My eyes were killing me, most likely from crying so much before.

The next few days would follow a similar pattern, Sam would fall asleep but never for very long before getting coffee and a quick bite to eat before continuing his search. And I spent the nights awake, sleep could not find me at the edge of the void. At some point crumbled pieces of paper surrounded me and I felt like a college student again, I didn't want to do anything but look for an answer. Adeline called once that first night, but it didn't wind up leading anywhere.

The second morning I prepared tea for Dean, arriving at the hospital with the steaming cup and food that wasn't from the hospital. He looked happy to see me and complained about how bored he was there. He looked horrible, and it hurt my chest to see him like that so I just nodded to what he said. He drank the tea with nearly no complaint but instead curiosity, I explained I had boiled Sun water, before making homemade ginger tea adding cinnamon sticks, chamomile, and honey for taste. He asked me to explain to him why I chose each one, though I wasn't sure he truly cared and just wanted to hear me speak since he was relentless with his questions. I healed him again and laid with him when he asked. Then the rest of the while we talked as I did research.

Somehow being there, and watching him worsen was worse than not being there at all. I think I understand now why we weren't allowed to be there when my mom died. I would have rathered someone just stabbed me in the heart over and over then see his eyes grow duller. I healed him again before I was kicked out.

I felt hopeless. I wasn't going to give up but I felt hopeless. It was like I wasn't myself but watching myself go through the motions.

The second night wasn't much better. I slept for a couple of hours only to wake up crying. I didn't try to sleep after that. I prayed to God that night. I hadn't done that in years. I hadn't begged him for mercy since my mother died. I think I was on my knees for hours, the harsh carpet digging into my skin, but that didn’t matter. I barely felt it after a while. I apologized for not praying in years, for only praying when it benefited me which I knew was selfish. I asked for help, and begged for it. I needed him to help Dean. I said I’d do anything he wanted if he did that, even if it meant becoming a nun. I felt incredibly embarrassed begging like that, I didn't even believe in God yet there I was my hands pressed together and the carpet beneath my knees. I cried again that night, for everyone I've lost and how far I would go to save another.

Adeline was wrong, I decided. Sacrifice didn't come with the solution, it came with the search for the answer. Like I said, I didn't feel like myself. I knew I was losing myself each hour that passed and I knew it would only get worse if he did die.

On the third morning, I did the same thing I did the morning before. But after healing him for the first time that morning, I broke in front of him. “I don't want you to go,” I told him, sobbing. He just held me against him even though I knew it hurt him, but he just stroked my head anyway mumbling “I know, I know” into my hair. I could hear his voice breaking with each letter; somehow, that was worse than seeing him act as if he didn't care. Then very quietly he whispered, “I don't know how to comfort someone when I know I’m the source of their pain.”

They did more tests on him. He wasn't getting better, at least not fast enough. It seemed my healing was just halting its progress momentarily, in a sense slowing it down before it continued. I needed to stay on him longer but I wasn’t sure how and ‘could barely make it past 20 minutes before I began to shake so badly and feel so faint like my chest was being pulled open with the sharp nails of cold hands.

I went back to the motel dragging my feet. It had been three days and we had nothing to show for it but failed attempts which I suppose is better than no attempts though it didn’t much feel that way. When I got there I returned to my corner at the table, moving away my mess of “work” with a swipe of my arm. I crumble into the wooden chair, laying my forehead on the edge of the table, I didn’t know what to do. I’d keep looking no matter what, that would not change. I would search through every book on every myth, god, folklore, anything. I’d do whatever it took, I just hoped time would not beat us to the finish line.

With a huff, I pulled my latest book from the library closer to me, a book on Greek Gods. I pick up where I left off in the thick book on the God of healing and medicine Asclepius. I read the passage about him, and it seemed promising, “He was considered a symbol of medical knowledge, skill, and wisdom. Known for his ability to heal the sick and revive the dead, Asclepius played an essential role in Greek religious and medical traditions…He was known for his exceptional skill in diagnosing diseases and treating wounds. His abilities were so profound that he could even bring the dead back to life, a talent that eventually led to his downfall…The Asclepieia, healing temples dedicated to the god, were spread throughout Greece and were renowned centers of medical practice. Pilgrims would travel great distances to seek healing, engaging in purification rituals, sacrifices, and dream incubation, where they would sleep in the temple and receive divine guidance through dreams.”

The rest of the chapter contains no more info on the healing aspect but just more of his legacy and whatnot. I close the book sharply, pulling open my laptop to do more research on him. Maybe a temple still existed, and considering Pilgrims there might even be one in America somewhere. Just as I type the temple name into Google a knock sounds from the door.

For a moment I think Sam forgot his keys, but when I turned to where he always was he was there. He looks at me confused and I shrug my shoulders, “Maybe it’s room service?” He answers by going to the door and opening it curiously. I watch from my seat, tilting my chair back to get a better look. But it is not room service, or someone knocking at the wrong door, it’s Dean. I almost fall backward, my chair slams forward back on all four legs I shoot up from my seat.

He leans on the doorframe, holding his side. He still has dark circles under his eyes and just looks sickly which is only accentuated by the black zip-up he wore, which was odd for him he never really wore sweaters. “What the hell are you doing here?” Sam exclaims his voice a mix of surprise and confusion. Dean limps his way just a little bit further into the room, leaning on a dresser next to the door, “I checked myself out,” he responds placing all his weight on the thing. I didn't even know a sick patient could check themselves out like that. “What, are you crazy?” Sam exclaims.

Dean shrugs, “Well, I’m not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren’t even hot.” He turns his head to wink at me and gives me that devilish smile. My jaw dropped, baffled wasn't even the word to explain it. This had to be the most Dean Winchester thing Dean could have ever done, I could not fathom it. I wanted to call him an idiot but I was too shocked to give any response. Sam huffs a laugh as he shuts the door, “You know, this whole I-laugh-in-the-face-of-danger-thing? It’s crap. I can see right through it, we both can.”

Dean moves himself further into the room leaning on anything he could, “Yeah, whatever, dude. Have either of you even slept? You look worse than me.” Sam helps him to the bed, sitting him down, “We’ve been scouring the Internet for the last three days.”

I sit back in my chair, scooting it so I can face them both, “I don't know how either of our laptops survived this. Late at night, I think I can hear it cry.”

Dean purses his lips, “Lack of sleep has made you crazy.” It was my turn to huff a laugh, and for that fraction of a second everything felt normal. But that moment of normalcy breaks as Sam adds, “I’ve also called every contact in Dad’s journal.” I was brought right back to the present, back to the reason we were doing all of this to begin with. “For what?” Dean asks.

“For a way to help you,” Sam explains, “One of Dad’s friends, Joshua, he called me back. Told me about a guy in Nebraska. A specialist.”

“Wait, why didn't you tell me sooner?” I ask.

“He called back when you were with Dean,” he answers, “I was going to tell you when you came back but didn't get the chance before he decided to break out.” I hum an ‘oh’ in response. “You’re not gonna let me die in peace, are you?” Dean chimes in, hunched over.

“I’m not gonna let you die, period. We’re going” Sam says, end of discussion.

The Impala bumps along the gravel road, I was beyond happy we finally arrived. The sky was cloudy and grey with a thin layer of mist clinging to everything, it reflected the past couple of days and the ride quite perfectly. Dean rested in the back seat the entire time, his face scrunched in discomfort, we stopped a couple of times so I could jump back there and heal him for a short while.

The car comes to a full stop among others in a large green field, a large white circus tent stealing the show. A sign nearby reads The Church of Roy LeGrange. Faith Healer. Witness The Miracle. I was skeptical, but like Sam said our options were low. I wasn’t religious and certainly hated when things like this existed, giving people false hope and feeding them lies, when they could be looking at real options and getting real help but I guess I was being a hypocrite considering how I spent my time kneeling to a God I didn't believe in. Many people walked towards it, all sick, some with canes, walkers, breathing devices, etc. I get out of the car slowly, eyeing the scene carefully. We’re all just desperate people, hoping a tent in the middle of nowhere will save our loved ones.

Sam gets out of the car, rounding the vehicle to help his brother get out of the car. Dean grimaces as he tries to lift himself, “I got ya” Sam tells him trying to grab him but Dean shoves him away, “I got it” he spits. He fixes himself, pissed off, but uses the car to hold himself up leaning on it, “Man, you are a lying bastard. ‘Thought you said we were going to see a doctor.”

“I believe I said a specialist” Sam corrects. I squint my eyes at him, “You’re not slick. But…” I say stretching out the word, “We should try, at the very least.”

“And this guy is supposed to be the real deal” Sam adds, nodding. Dean scuffs, rolling his eyes, “I can’t believe you brought me here to see some guy who heals people out of a tent.”

An old woman walks by holding a big black umbrella, “Reverend LeGrange is a great man” she declares. “Yeah, that’s nice” Dean sarcastically remarks. I hold back on batting his arm as I would normally, “Be nice” I mumble instead.

We walk away from the old lady and the car heading toward the tent, walking past an angry man who is struggling against an officers hold, “I have a right to protest. This man is a fraud. And he’s milking all these people of their hard-earned money.” I suck in a sharp breath, mumbling an “Amen, brother” underneath my breath. But the Sheriff seems to ignore the man's declaration, holding him back while trying to lead him away, “Sir, this is a place of worship. Let’s go. Move it.” The man huffs, walking away with the Sheriff. “I take it he’s not part of the flock” Dean remarks.

Sam purses his lips, half shrugging, “When people see something they can’t explain, there’s controversy.”

Dean stops short, getting our attention and making us stop too, “I mean, come on, Sam, a faith healer? And what about you Y/N you don’t believe in this crap.”

I hold up my hands in surrender, “You're right. I don’t. And I think making a whole religion out of it that smells more like a cult than anything, it’s ridiculous. But there’s a good chance this is legit,” I drop my hands back at my side, “He’s probably using magic like I was doing with you, it's just that he's, hopefully, more successful.” He pressed his lips together tightly, I got him there. “See, maybe it’s time to have a little faith, Dean,” Sam adds.

“You know what I’ve got faith in?” Dean exclaims, “Reality. And this won’t work. I mean do you really think this guy is a dude-witch.”

I purse my lips, “I’m pretty sure the term would be a wizard, but, uh, I don't know. I’d have to see it in action to know for certain along with anything around him while he works, rituals and stuff.” I pause for a moment, thinking it over, “I do hope he’s real and not an elaborate con artist, and I hope he’s better than me at the whole healing thing.” I was being blatantly honest. I hoped it would encourage Dean to not fight this version of help, and I truly did wish this guy could help. “And if you know evil’s out there, how can you not believe good’s out there, too?” Sam chimes in, a hint of annoyance on his tongue. A muscle in Dean’s jaw twitches, “Because I’ve seen what evil does to good people.”

Dean’s POV

I snapped in a moment of weakness and said too much. “Dean” she sighs, placing a gentle hand on my upper arm, stepping closer to me almost subconsciously. I didn’t want a lecture full of sappy nonsense and corny poetry. She must have known that because she smiled sadly, her lip curving up on one side, my eyes following the movement, “Good does exist, it has to,” she says simply ever the optimist. She tilts her head slightly, looking up at me through her curled eyelashes, her hand still on my arm, my knees feel weak. “I'm sure you can think of at least one good person. Of course, the terms good and evil are subjective…” she cuts her cute rambling off, “but you get what I mean.”

I guess she was right. Sammy’s a good person sometimes a total asshole but I guess that came with the territory of being brothers. And Y/N’s the definition of being a good person, she’s always been kind even to people who didn't deserve it, including me. I remember a couple of times I was cruel to her when we were kids, always about her being a witch, yet for some reason she accepted my apology and even wanted to keep being friends. For a long time, I didn’t understand her, ‘how she could be sweet and smile at a world filled with darkness. Sometimes I think I still don't get her. “Please just give it a try,” she pleads, “And if it doesn't work or turns out to be a con you can make fun of us the whole way back.”

I studied her again, she looked drained and I knew she hadn't been sleeping all because of me. “Fine” I huff. She bites back a smile and suddenly complying with this stupid faith healer was worth it.

“And who knows, maybe God works in mysterious ways” an unfamiliar voice butts in. I didn't care to look who it was, solely focused on the girl who still had her hand on me; a smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes, one I hadn't seen in three days. “Maybe he does” I respond, half heartily, I look up briefly catching the eyes of an attractive blonde holding a black umbrella. I averted my eyes back to my girl, but she was already looking away at the woman who interrupted us, her hand slipped down my arm.

“Uh, hi. I’m Y/N” she introduces herself, holding out the hand that was touching me only moments ago. She accepts her hand, “Layla. And these two?” Layla says looking past her. “Sam,” he introduces himself before motioning to me, “Dean.” I give her a tightlipped smile in response.

She smiles at me, “So, if you’re not a believer, then why are you here?” She was attractive, you’d have to be blind not to see it but my interest is elsewhere. I can't fool myself into thinking that'll work out. Hell, I'm probably gonna end up dead. And yeah, it's harsh, but I can't shake the feeling that I'd rather spend what time I've got with Y/N, not waste it chasing after other girls just to fill the gap she left without even knowing it. I’m self-aware enough to know that. “Well, apparently my brother here believes enough for the both of us” I muse. An older woman with blondish-gray hair walks over, putting an arm around the girl, “Come on, Layla. It’s about to start.” Both women smile at us before walking away.

“Well, you heard the woman,” Y/N starts, “We should get you inside.” Sam nods leading the way.

Your POV

The tent is packed, full of people trying to find seats, it smells of hope and despair if that’s possible. “Yeah, peace, love, and trust all over,” Dean remarks, nodding over to a camera in the corner. Did churches have cameras? “I guess it makes sense,” I try to reason, “‘probably get more people like that dude outside protesting, maybe even getting violent.”

Dean slips away sitting down on one of the foldable chairs. “Hey no,” I point at him, “You are not gonna be all brooding and hide in the back.” His shoulders slump, “Let’s sit here.”

“No” I answer simply, eyebrows scrunched. He opens his mouth in a retort but his brother steps in, putting an arm around him and practically dragging him from the seat and towards the front, “Oh, come, on, Sam” Dean growls. Mistaking his anger for pain Sam halts in his movements, “You alright?”

“This is ridiculous” Dean bites, slapping his brother’s hands away, “I’m good, dude, get off of me.” I roll my eyes at their behavior, even in public, and even with one of them being severely sick they could still act childish and make a scene. I look around the closer rows, looking for seats, “Look at that” I smile turning back to the boys, “seats” I point to three empty seats not only close to the front but right behind Layla, the girl from before. She seemed nice, maybe a little strange in randomly joining the conversation but it wasn’t a big deal. “Perfect” Sam agrees, lightly shoving his brother in that direction. “Yeah, perfect” Dean remarks, sarcasm clear in his voice.

“Take the aisle,” Sam tells his brother before moving into the row of seats, I move in after him taking the seat between them. Dean grumbles something, his face having ‘irritable’ all over it, but he sits quietly, arms crossed.

An old man with white hair and sunglasses steps onto the stage with the help of an older woman with brown hair tied back. He must be the famous Roy LeGrange, “Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann, reads me the news. Never seems good, does it?” he says with a classic southern accent, the crowd muttering agreements, “Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act.”

“He could say that aga–'' I began to mumble. “Huh” I hum to myself, my eyes catching on a particular religious item, why would there be a Celtic cross? I mean the cross represented the blending of the Celts and Christians but there are many separations between the two from believing in multiple gods to human sacrifice–

“But, I say to you, God is watching,” he preaches, and if I wasn't so focused on that wooden cross I might have rolled my eyes forgetting my manners, especially when the crowd responded with “Yes he is.” It sounded very cultish, the hair on my arms standing up. Maybe it wasn’t that weird for there to be a Celtic cross, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling. I racked my brain for information on it, and I just couldn’t see it used in Christian churches anymore. Though of course, I could be wrong, it's not like I go to church every day or even once a week. But again it felt a little too weird to just brush off–

“God rewards the good, and He punishes the corrupt” Roy continued getting loud cheering and more murmuring. I look at the people around me strangely, I forget how powerful religion is…

Speaking of which, that damn Celtic cross again. Alright, think. The Celtic cross represents life and death, creating dynamic tension, the vertical arm represents the life aspect while the horizontal arm signifies death, the circle acting as a portal to transformation. In simpler terms, the cross and circle represent opposing forces; life and death, yet they harmonize with the Celtic cross, emphasizing unity and balance, they coexist. But what does that mean here? Okay, well he’s supposedly healing people which would be the life aspect and the death could represent the healing cheating death? No, that sounded like a stretch. Maybe this was all a stretch and the cross meant nothing. I’m just overreacting because I'm scared of what will become of this if this man was a con or whatever else. Yeah, that makes more sense—

“It is the Lord who does the healing here, friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts,” Roy proclaimed.

“Yeah,” Dean whispers just loud enough for Sam and me to hear, “and into their wallets.” But it wasn’t quiet enough, “You think so, young man?” Oh, that was weird. The crowd falls dead silent, “Sorry” Dean apologizes. “No, no. Don’t be.” Roy shakes his head, “Just watch what you say around a blind man, we’ve got real sharp ears.” The crowd laughs but an unpleasant feeling worms itself into my stomach. It was innocent enough but something felt off and I don't think it has anything to do with Dean being scrutinized. “What’s your name, son?” Roy asks. He clears his throat, sitting straighter in his seat, “Dean.”

“Dean” Roy repeats nodding to himself, “I want…I want you to come up here with me.” My eyes widened, maybe God finally listened. “No, it’s okay” he shakes his head. “What are you doing?!” Sam whisper-yells, but his brother ignores him.

“You’ve come here to be healed, haven’t cha?” Roy inquires.

“Well, yeah, but, uh…maybe you should just pick someone else” Dean attempts to reason. And I hate the way he doesn't believe he is worthy of saving. The crowd claps loudly, “Oh, no. I didn’t pick you, Dean, the Lord did.” Had we been here for any other reason I might have been more disturbed by that proclamation, but this was a chance. The crowd roars in excitement, voices mixed in encouragement. Dean looks overwhelmed, I place a hand on his knee gaining his attention quickly, “Dean, this is good, go” I whisper to him even though I was unsure of this whole thing and that odd cross. He studies me for half a moment, something I couldn't recognize passing over his features before he reluctantly raises, my hand slipping from his leg.

The woman from before helps Dean to the stage, situating him next to the healer, “You ready?” he asks Dean. “Look, no disrespect, but, uh, I’m not exactly a believer,” Dean says, looking between the crowd and the old man. But Roy just smiles, “You will be, son. You will be,” he turns to the crowd arms raised, “Pray with me, friends.” Again, almost like a cult, the crowd joins hands as Roy moves his hands to place on Dean; one on his shoulder and the other to the side of his head. I hold my breath, I want this to work so badly, I hadn't even begun to think of a plan B if this didn't.

Suddenly Dean’s eyes glaze over, it was never like that when I healed him, and then he seems to wobble sinking to his knees. I gasped, I didn't think it would be so intense or that my heart would beat so fast. A deep chill runs up my spine seeping into my bones, my skin prickles with goosebumps, the Celtic cross comes into view again and I suddenly feel sick, a horrible feeling tangling itself in between my stomach. I don't know where to look the cross or Dean, my eyes flipping between the two rapidly all until Dean's eyes roll back and he crumbles down onto the stage floor. Sam manages to jump over me, using his long legs to his advantage he gets to the stage in seconds grabbing the front of Dean's hoodie. I catch up quickly, glad we were close to the stage, I kneel in front of Dean his head lulling back. The loud noise of the crowd cheering becomes nothing but background noise, as I check his pulse my fingers against the side of his neck the steady but fast beating of his heart thumping below my touch.

With a sudden gasp his eyes shoot open, eyes wide and mouth agape.

I tap my foot impatiently on the clean floors of the hospital, thankful that right after testing I was allowed to be in the room. Dean looked better, he moved normally and his color was back, but we all agreed we should check officially. Now we were waiting and although the room sparked with anxiety, the dark looming cloud had cleared up a lot, and once we knew for sure it would most likely be gone. I just wished the doctor would come quicker. “So, you really feel okay?” Sam asks for the hundredth time since Dean woke from being healed yesterday. Dean stares at him blankly, “I feel fine, Sam” he grumbles.

Finally, the Doctor walks in, reading from the charts on his clipboard, “Well, according to all your tests there's nothing wrong with your heart. No sign there ever was. Not that a man your age should be having heart trouble, but, still strange things happen.” The cloud fades away, and I don’t hold back my beaming smile. “What do you mean, strange?” Dean asks, his face serious rather than elated. “Well, just yesterday, a young guy like you, twenty-seven, athletic. Out of nowhere, heart attack,” the doctor shares. Dean nods, giving the man a handshake, “Thanks, Doc.” The man leaves, closing the door behind him. “That’s odd,” Dean points out, referring to what the doctor said.

“Maybe it's a coincidence,” Sam shrugs, “People's hearts give out all the time, man.” I looked at him taken aback, what was he talking about, “Dude, what world are you living in?” He gives me a pointed look, annoyed with not only my response but also my not agreeing with him, “Do we really have to look this one in the mouth? Why can't we just be thankful that the guy saved your life, Dean, and move on?”

“Because I can't shake this feeling, that's why” Dean bites back. I sigh, wishing we could just avoid this all, “Me neither.” Dean gives me a strange look, “You neither?”

“Yeah,” I nod, “I just, I don’t know, when we sat down I recognized something which automatically made me suspicious. Then you know the whole thing was happening and, well, maybe it was just nerves but it got really cold and I felt sort of sick. Which really doesn't make sense, but I just had this weird feeling, I don’t know.”

“I felt cold too,” Dean answers, face scrunched, “When I was healed, I just...I felt wrong, ‘cold. And for a second...I saw someone. This, uh, this old man. And I'm telling you, it was a spirit.” Maybe it wasn’t nerves and I wasn’t crazy. Sam huffs, clearly trying to ignore the red flags here, “But if there was something there, Dean, I think I would've seen it, too. I mean, I've been seeing an awful lot of things lately.”

“Alright, but he literally saw something and I felt something.” I reason, “You can’t deny two people saying something’s up, and whatever it was there’s probably a reason why you couldn’t see it.”

“You’re just gonna need a little faith on this one, Sam” Dean muses, using his own words against him. Sam sighs, finally giving in, “Yeah, alright. So, what do you wanna do?”

Dean steps into the leader role again, as if nothing had happened, “I want you to go check out the heart attack guy. Y/N, we’re gonna visit the reverend.”

I sit next to Dean on the nice leather couch, Roy sitting across from us. He and his wife had been very understanding and didn’t question our want to speak to him about yesterday, I figure he got this a lot. “I feel great,” Dean answers the reverend, “Just trying to, you know, make sense of what happened.”

“A miracle is what happened,” Sue Ann, Roy’s wife and the woman from before answered, “Well, miracles come so often around Roy.” I gave her a half-hearted smile and nod, maybe it was just me but that response came off a little weird. I was getting a bad vibe from her, “So, um, when did these miracles start?” I ask Roy. Any desire to possibly learn from him had been subdued, caution taking its place. “Woke up one morning, stone blind. Doctors figured out I had cancer. Told me I had maybe a month. So, uh, we prayed for a miracle. I was weak, but I told Sue Ann, 'You just keep right on praying.'” He smiled sweetly at his wife before continuing, “I went into a coma. Doctors said I wouldn't wake up, but I did. And the cancer was gone.” He takes off his black sunglasses, his eyes pure white, “If it wasn't for these eyes, no one would believe I'd ever had it.” He puts the glasses back on, it was a touching story and his eyes added a horrifying touch but it just left more questions.

He seemed genuine, and I don’t think he would lie about being in a coma. When you’re sick like that, and experience something like that, you don’t create lies about your experience, not when it was traumatic like that. And staying on that belief, there was no way he suddenly just stopped having cancer and was able to heal people. He couldn’t have been responsible for whatever caused his initial health change. Which would then mean someone else was involved. “So then, you could just…heal people?” I ask.

“I discovered it afterward, yes,” he nods, "God's blessed me in many ways.” It didn’t add up. I couldn’t get it to add up in my head. Besides the whole no more sickness ideal, how could he just suddenly heal someone? I mean, how do you even discover you can? Was it an accident? Did the hypothetical person who might have caused him to get better tell him too? Or, tell him to try? Whereas for me I knew it was something I was capable of in general as a witch, but I also had many spell books, history books, journals, and everything to learn from. And if my mother had lived longer she would have been able to teach me it too.

“And his flock just swelled overnight,” Sue Ann added, her eyes full of endearment, “And this is just the beginning.” I study her for a moment, balancing on the thin line of suspicion and paranoia. There was nothing inherently wrong about her or what she said, and maybe it was my mind making up the fact that her last words were just a little aggressive.

“Can I ask you one last question?” Dean asks, his voice pulling me out of my thoughts. “Of course you can,” Roy responded sincerely. He really does seem like a nice guy, genuine, and it could be my inherent lack of sleep that’s making me connect dots that might not even be there. “Why? Why me? Out of all the sick people, why save me?” My heart broke. Of course he didn’t feel adequate, especially when he tried convincing us for the last four days he wasn't worth saving, that we should give up and let him die. I place a careful hand on his knee, I don’t want to scare him away or clam up again, he never was very open. “Well, like I said before, the Lord guides me,” Roy answers, “I looked into your heart, and you just stood out from all the rest.”

Dean wets his lips, my eyes flickering up to the movement, he leans forward slightly, “What did you see in my heart?” I move my gaze away catching on Sue Ann’s innocent movement of picking up her glass of water, but as she leans over her necklace escapes from its place beneath her shirt. A small wooden Celtic Cross held by a thin silver chain, she catches my eyes, covering the cross with her hand and giving me an innocent smile. She assumes I would think it's just any ol’ cross, she does run religious ceremonies so such a simple totem shouldn’t mean anything else. Maybe there were dots to connect after all, and it was on full display ready to be fastened. I focused my attention back on the conversation, I left my bag in the car so I’d have to wait, and in the meanwhile, I did not wish for her to get suspicious of me either.

Roy smiles softly, “A young man with an important purpose. A job to do. And it isn't finished.” I feel Dean tense beneath my hand, his face full of shock. Whether Roy did see something or not, it might have been the thing Dean needed to hear regardless.

I wanted to run back to the car and look through my spell book and journal, but Sue Ann was seeing us out and if I had easily become suspicious of her then it was possible she would grow suspicious of what I knew too. I could almost feel her gaze burning into the back of my head, but I tried to ignore it, focusing instead on Dean's warm hand on the small of my back leading me down the short wooden stairs of their porch. But I had not expected to see Layla and the woman she was with before, I think her mother. “Dean, Y/N, hey,” she greets. “Hey,” Dean responds just as we reach ground level, his hand pressing further into my back before curling around my waist, his hand lying on my side before he pushes me closer against him. I don’t know why he was being so touchy, not that I was exactly complaining. I welcomed it and the warmth it brought.

“How ‘you feeling?” She asks him, tilting her head slightly, her face beaming in sincerity. “I feel good. Cured, I guess. What are you doing here?” he responds.

“You know, my mom, she wanted to talk to the reverend.” Layla nods toward the door prompting Sue Ann to step fully onto the porch rather than standing halfway between the screen door. “Layla?” she asks, probably not having seen her from where she stood. “Yes, I'm here again,” Layla answers softly.

“Well, I'm sorry, but Roy is resting. He won't be seeing anyone else right now.” Sue Ann informed, nodding sympathetically. Every word she said just made me want to turn around and head to the car, I was itching for it. I wondered if Dean could feel it from where he was touching me or just sensed it, giving me a questioning look with a raised eyebrow. But I couldn’t exactly say anything right now so I ignored his look.

“Sue Ann, please,” Layla’s mom pleads, “This is our sixth time, he's got to see us.”

“Roy is well aware of Layla's situation,” Sue Ann declares harshly, “And he very much wants to help just as soon as the Lord allows. Have faith, Mrs. Rourke.” And with that, she goes back inside. I might not know exactly what’s going on but her continuous frustrated comments regarding the healing and her perhaps overly religious nature were enough to make me antsy. We should really go to the car, call Sam to see what he found, or even just head to the hotel. Layla’s mom turns sharply to Dean, glaring at him she spits, “Why are you still even here? You got what you wanted.”

“Mom. Stop” Layla insists, looking at us nervously.

“No, Layla, this is too much” her mom fumed, “We've been to every single service. If Roy would stop choosing these strangers over you. Strangers who don't even believe. I just can't pray any harder.” I do feel bad for her, but it's not like we had control over any of this so she shouldn't be mad at us let alone Dean who was quite literally on his deathbed and might not have made it to the end of the week. I open my mouth to say exactly that, but Dean cuts me off before I get a chance, “Layla, what’s wrong?” he asks.

She looks everywhere but him, “I have this thing…”

“It's a brain tumor,” her mother cuts in bluntly, “It's inoperable. In six months, the doctors say…” Layla cuts her mom off putting a hand on her shoulder. Maybe it was good Dean didn’t let me say what I wanted to, it would’ve been too cruel to do that to someone who was going to lose her daughter. It seemed like we were surrounded by death, more now than ever and I hadn’t thought that could be possible. I didn’t like death, or sickness though I suppose who does. “I'm sorry” Dean says, and I just nod in agreement not trusting my own voice. “It's okay” Layla responds softly. Her mother shakes her head slowly, “No. It isn't,” her sharp gaze is back on Dean, “Why do you deserve to live more than my daughter?” Then she storms away, Layla hesitantly following. I know that woman was just upset and projecting her anger but it was not fair. Grief isn’t fair.

I look at Dean, his jaw clenched tightly, a slight furrow of his brow, his eyes a little far away in thought. I recognized that look. “Don’t listen to her” I declare, slipping from his hold to look at him straight on, “Death is not kind and it is not just, but you deserve to live. You deserve to live just as much as Layla or anyone else does. I know that look and I know you're thinking poorly of yourself, which I hate that you do so ‘cause you’re amazing and brave and kind and you care so much for others regardless of your gruff attitude.” His eyes are wide and written with shock but I continue, “So don’t think for one second that you don’t deserve to live.” I didn’t realize my chest was heaving, or that a lump had formed in my throat. I’ve watched too many people die, I’ve been down the rabbit hole of grief. I knew it well, it became a second skin. And I've watched someone run themselves into the ground because they didn’t feel like they deserved to live, or at least not when the love of their life was dead. I watched the evolution of that grief while dealing with my own and my brother’s. Death was not kind.

His jaw was slack with surprise and I know I said too much, I gave him a sharp awkward nod before turning around and heading for the car. I have something to look into.

Dean throws his keys on the bed the second we enter, the soft jingle of the metal ringing through the quiet room. I unzipped my sweatshirt, making my way towards Sam who sat at the small table to the side of the room. I take a seat next to him, putting my sweater behind me, “So what’d you find?” He seems hesitant to answer, his adam's apple bobbing, “Um, I’m sorry Dean” he says weakly looking up at his brother.

Dean takes his jacket off putting it on top of mine, his face written in confusion, “Sorry about what?” he asks, leaning on the back of my chair, his knuckles just barely brushing my back. Sam huffs out a breath, “Marshall Hall died at 4:17.” My eyes widened, I shouldn’t be surprised it was just another dot to be connected to whatever was going on with the damn cross. “The exact time I was healed” Dean adds solemnly, voicing what we were all thinking.

“Yeah. So, I put together a list of everyone Roy's healed, six people over the past year, and I cross-checked them with the local obits,” Sam explains, “Every time someone was healed, someone else died. And each time, the victim died of the same symptom LeGrange was healing at the time.”

“Oh frick” I mumble, apparently nothing is allowed to be easy for us. And I wasn’t exactly expecting that to be what we’re dealing with. “Someone's healed of cancer, someone else dies of cancer?” Dean asks for confirmation, even though it’s clear that’s what’s going on. “Somehow. LeGrange…” Sam sighs, “he's trading a life for another.”

Dean stands up straight backing away from the table, from Sam, “Wait, wait, wait. So, Marshall Hall died to save me?” Sam shakes his head, “Dean, the guy probably would've died anyway. And someone else would've been healed.”

“You never should've brought me here.” Dean declares, running a hand down his face.

“Dean, I was just trying to save your life.” Sam reasons.

“But, Sam, some guy is dead now because of me.”

“I didn't know,” Sam answers quietly.

I stand up abruptly, “Hey, there’s nothing we can do about that now. What’s done is done.” This all got very complicated very quickly, maybe Adeline was right you can’t save someone from death without making difficult decisions and sacrifices. “But what we can do is stop this from happening again, before it gets worse” I add and I know I don’t sound so convincing. You don’t get to choose who lives and who dies, and we had crossed that line whether intentionally or not, just wanting to save Dean from death was already putting a foot past that line. “That’s the thing I don't understand, how is Roy doing it? How's he trading a life for a life?” Sam questions. “Oh, he’s not doing it,” Dean answers, “Something else is doing it for him.”

“Do you mean the thing with Sue Ann?” I ask with a tilt of my head, maybe he had picked up on it too. “What?” his face contorts in confusion, “No? What are you talking about?”

“Oh” I say, now I'm confused, “Wait. What are you talking about?”

“What are both of you talking about?!” Sam exclaims looking between us. Dean sighs, pinching the space between his brows, “The old man I saw on stage” he explains, “I didn’t want to believe it, but deep down I knew.” He pauses and I begin to wonder if it’s for dramatic affect. I motion my hand for him to continue and he does, “There’s only one thing that can give and take life like that. We’re dealing with a Reaper.”

“Pardon?” I say, my mouth agape. “Yeah,” Sam agrees, face just as shocked as I am, “You really think it's THE Grim Reaper? Like, angel of death, collect your soul, the whole deal?”

“No no no, not THE reaper, A reaper.” Dean clarifies, taking the seat I once occupied, “There's reaper law in pretty much every culture on earth, it goes by 100 different names, it's possible that there's more than one of them.” My mouth still hangs open, it can never be something normal with us, ever. “But you said you saw a dude in a suit,” Sam voiced.

“What, you think he shoulda been working the whole black robe thing?” Dean countered, “You said it yourself that the clock stopped right? Reapers stop time. And you can only see 'em when they're coming at you which is why I could see it and you guys couldn't.”

“Oh my god,” I say, the realization finally hitting me, “That’s where it comes in!” Both boys stare at me confused, “Where what comes in?” Sam asks.

“Okay, remember I said I recognized something and thought it was a little strange,” I paused waiting for them to nod before continuing, “It was a Celtic Cross, which was all I could focus on the entire time ‘cause like what is it doing there. And then I started thinking of what it symbolizes, here’s the interesting part” I point out, “So basically, the Celtic cross represents life and death, creating dynamic tension. The cross and circle represent opposing forces; life and death, yet they harmonize with the cross, emphasizing unity and balance, they coexist. Which now makes total sense with the whole Reaper thing.”

“Sorry sweetheart, I’m not following here” Dean admits. I huff a laugh, “Right. Let me get to the point. So, as far as I know someone has to control the Reaper to, you know, dictate who lives and dies and to do that you need a spell. And I’ve seen it before…” I head over to my bag that I had just plopped down right next to the door when we walked in, I pull out my spell book holding it up, “This book has been in my family for generations. Now as you know my mother and her family didn’t see eye to eye, so when it eventually became my mothers and she ran away she changed a lot of stuff in here, crossing things out etc.” I open the book, flicking through the pages, “Basically there’s some pretty dark stuff in here, straight up black magic, some stuff even ancient,” finally I find the page, “Aha!” I turn the book around pointing at the page, “As you can see by the frowny face in the corner my mother did not appreciate this spell. Anyways, this is a binding spell for a Reaper where you create a black alter with bones and human blood etc, you get the point. You can then control it with a Celtic Cross, and before I saw Sue Ann with the necklace.”

“So you think Sue Ann is using dark magic to control a Reaper and kill people to save people because you saw a necklace?” Sam asks. I close the book, “Yeah, and it makes sense she was desperate when her husband was sick. I don’t know how I didn’t think of this sooner.” I knew this page existed, I've seen it in passing multiple times, especially some time since Dean was in the hospital. I guess I did listen to Adeline’s warning because even though I was ready to go far to save him I had kept away from pages like this. “Yeah but Roy's alive, so why is she still using the spell?” Dean points out. I shrug, “Money? She’s psycho? I don’t know, maybe there’s a connection with the victims.”

“How would we break it?” Sam voices.

“We gotta get that cross from her, the one around her neck” I answer, “And let me just add, that Reaper is gonna be pissed, I mean the second it gains back its control…” I don’t need to say it out loud for them to get what I mean.

The Impala bounces down the badly graveled and potholed road, passing a sign that says Service Today. Hopefully we will be just in time. Dean brings the car to a stop and wordlessly we exit, “How do we get Sue Ann alone?” Sam asks. I nervously tap the side of my legs as we approach the tent, some guy handing out leaflets stops us, “Roy LeGrange is a fraud. He's no healer.” Dean accepts the paper, “Amen brother” he nods. “You keep up the good work” Sam points at the man and he looks taken aback, he probably didn’t get many if any people that agreed. “Thank you,” he says, surprised.

Focusing back on the task at hand I open my mouth about to say something about not knowing where she goes when she does the spell when I spot her near the side of the tent, “I see her” I say already moving in that direction, “Find her spell book and keep Roy distracted too in case this does not work.” I don’t wait to hear a response before I’m running off to catch up with the woman playing God, “Sue Ann!” I call as I approach. She turns, her eyes wide, the necklace peeking out from her blouse, “Hi Y/N, what are you doing back here?” she asks sweetly.

“Oh well you guys are doing such amazing stuff here, wanted to say thank you one last time before we had to head off” I answered hoping my lie was believable. “Don’t thank us, you just thank the Lord” She says pointing to the night sky. I nod, I had to keep her talking long enough to figure out how to get the necklace off, “I have to admit I always had a hard time believing in the man upstairs, but you and Roy really turned me around.”

“Oh I’m glad, it’s never too late to welcome Him into your heart,” she smiles, “Now if you’ll excuse me I must get going, the sermon is starting.” Uh oh, do I just rip it off of her? No, she’s already turning around, “One last thing!” I call out getting her attention again. This time when she turns around she looks annoyed, “Uh, um…”come on Y/N come up with a lie or something, “I saw your necklace earlier today, I think you caught me staring,” I laugh, “I was just…I was wondering where you got it from I’ve never seen something like that before.” She clasps her necklace, “It’s just an old thing, I don’t remember where I got it from.”

“Could I maybe take a closer look at it? Maybe I can find a replica, you know, for my new found belief.” I was practically begging her to just let this be easy, maybe I should ask Dean to give me a lesson on finessing cause this is not working. She clasps it tighter, “I’m sorry, maybe later I really have to help with the sermon now.”

“Right, right sorry” she begins to turn around again but I call out again, “I know you said to thank the Lord and I have and will, it’s just” that gets her attention, “I feel like you and Roy are also responsible and like I said I came to thank you again…I know it’s maybe unprofessional or what not, but, could I just give you a hug? You’ve really done so much for us.” God I was bad at this. Her face softens a fraction, hey maybe I wasn’t bad at this, “Of course.” She holds out her arms and I move closer to allow myself to be embraced, I wrap my arms near her neck hoping she couldn’t feel the tension in my body. “Thank you” I say softly, all the while sneaking my hand to the clasp of her necklace.

She pulls away abruptly, once more grasping her necklace, “What is wrong with you!” she exclaims. I back up, hands up in defense, “After everything we’ve done to help you, healing your boy” she glares at me with wide eyes, “I never expected this from you Y/N.” I stare at her blankly, do I jump her? “You get out of here, before I call over those officers. Looks like your boy is already in trouble too. Disappointing, both of you.”

I look over my shoulder, Dean’s being pushed away by two cops and there’s a large crowd surrounding the tent including Roy. Maybe they evacuated. I turn back to Sue Ann but she’s already pushing past me, heading to the crowd. Oh no. Layla walks up to him next and she seems to be upset with him. How much did I miss? I rush towards Dean, Layla walking away, “What did you do?” I whisper yell. “You said to distract Roy!” he argues.

“I didn’t mean to get in trouble with the police!”

“‘Don’t matter, did you get it?” Dean asks with a quirked eyebrow. “No,” I grumble, “She caught me in my attempt and started lecturing me, I was thinking of just jumping her before she pointed out your run in with the police.”

“You were gonna jump the woman?!” He exclaims.

“I didn’t know what to do!!” I hissed, “And it’s not like I did it!” I let out a frustrated sigh, crossing my arms across my chest, “We need a new plan, where’s Sammy?”

“‘Think he’s waiting by the car, ‘hope he’s got somethin’ Roy’s gonna do a private healing session with Layla tonight.”

“Great,” I mumble, “I really should have jumped her.”

I sit criss cross applesauce on the hard motel bed. For a hunt that I knew so much about I had royally blown it. She was right there. The necklace right there. “Please tell me you found something helpful in their home” I pleaded.

“I found the spell book, written by a priest who went dark side,” Sam answers, holding up the small book, “And she isn’t just killing random people. She’s forcing the Reaper to kill people she finds immoral, from some teacher who was openly gay to a woman who advocated for abortion rights.” The room fell quiet for a moment, there were more layers to this than we thought. “May God save us from half the people who think they're doing God's work” Dean muses.

“No seriously that’s messed up,” I add, shaking my head. “Yeah,” Sam nods, “I think you should hold onto this book Y/N.” He hands it over and I hold it cautiously in my hand, “How nice.” I’ll probably spend the next couple of days reading it over before ultimately sending it home, I did not need a spell book on dark magic with me, didn't even need to own it but rather me than get in the wrong hands.

“We should head back soon” Dean says, “Layla could be there any minute”

The Impala rolls over the graveled road for the second and hopefully final time today, this time with total darkness cloaking us no lights on. We roll to a stop, “That's Layla's car. She's already here,” Sam points out.

Dean nods slowly, “Yeah.” He was upset, “Dean…” Sam began. But Dean ignores him, looking out the window instead, “You know if Roy woulda picked Layla instead of me she'd be here right now. And if she's not healed tonight she's gonna die in a coupla’ months.” I should’ve known my dramatic speech from before wouldn’t magically resolve him of his guilt, no one has that power. “What's happening to her is horrible,” Sam reasons, “But what are you gonna do? Let somebody else die to save her? You said it yourself Dean, you can't play God.”

Dean goes quiet for a beat before getting out of the car, Sam and I following. We approach the tent, peeking inside to see Roy speaking to a small group of people including Layla and her mom, “Gather round, please everyone, gather round. Come in closer, come on up.”

“Where's Sue Ann?” Dean whispers. I tried to crane my neck to look around the tent, maybe she was off to the side somewhere… “House,” Sam answers simply.

We creep up to the small house, weary of making too much noise we couldn’t afford to get caught, “You guys go find Sue Ann, I'll catch up,” Dean orders. I look at him confused, “Wait, what are you gonna—“ But Dean’s already backing away from us yelling, “Hey!” to two figures in the distance. “You gonna put that fear of God in me?” he yells out, of course he would be taunting the police. The officers drop what looks to be coffee cups before running after him, Dean taking off at full speed. Only he would do something so stupid. “Uh, anyways” I begin, “If she’s doing it at her house she’s probably by the altar, and considering the size and necessities of the thing and the fact her husband doesn't know it would have to be in an attic or basement.”

“I’ll offer you one better” Sam nods off to the side of the building, “a cellar.” He was right, that would be better. And on top of that definite light emerges from the metal doors. Sam leads the way opening up the heavy doors and propping it open as he makes his way down first. I follow suit immediately being hit with the sight that is the altar, a small table adorned with candle operas filled by tall burning candles, parts of dead animals, bones and blood sprawled out meticulously across the red table cloth. And right in the middle was a black and white surveillance photo of Dean before he was healed, the photo smeared in blood.

“I gave him life and I can take it back too” A familiar voice suddenly says. Sue Ann. I turn around hastily being met with cold eyes, behind me I hear a large crash and I don’t have to look to know Sam had flipped over the table. Her eyes flip to the scene and I use the initial shock to rush her, but she was already close to the stairs so it did not take her long to sweep up them slamming the cellar doors behind her. Something clicks and shifts, she must have locked us in here. Sam joins me at my side, pushing and fighting against the barred doors. “Can't you see? The Lord chose me to reward the just and punish the wicked,” she reasons, “And Dean is wicked and he deserves to die just as Layla deserves to live. It is God's will.”

Oh, so that twisted psycho thinks that’s how it is. Well she messed with the wrong witch. “You're gonna wanna back up” I tell Sam. I press my palms to the cold metal of the doors, I’m pissed now. No one gets to use magic, let alone dark magic, on either of my boys. The doors begin to rattle harshly, almost as if there’s an earthquake, “Goodbye Sam, Y/N” she says. I put more force on the door, my entire being focused on it until it burst open bits of chipped paint and screws flying away, a satisfying break of the wood she used to block us ringing in my ears as broken bits of the wood come crashing back down.

Sue Ann stands but a couple feet away, her eyes wide as she watches me exit the cellar with shock and fear. She backs up further and I follow after her like a predator trapping its prey. “I-I read about things like you” she says weakly, her voice shaking. She keeps backing up, “You’re a—You’re a—“ her back hits the wall of a nearby trailer house. “Witch” I finished for her, yanking off that necklace once and for all.

I throw it off to the side, far away, and back up from her. My job was done and the Reaper would come knocking for its own revenge. “My God, what have you done?,” she heaves, pressing a hand to where her necklace used to be. “He’s not your God” Sam says cooly. Her head snaps to something in the distance, her face falls growing pale she must be seeing the Reaper. Then all at once she takes off running, not making it very far before she falls to her knees, her body convulsing once, twice, before falling to the ground. “I think we have just aided in her murder” I muse.

“Yeah…” Sam nods, “We should probably…” This time I nod, not saying anything as we walk away from the crime heading back in the direction of the Impala. We intercept Dean on the way, meeting at the car. I give him a small thumbs up to say we did it this time and he nods solemnly. “You okay?” Sam asks him.

“Hell of a week” he answers.

I glanced up from my phone for the fifth time in the last minute. I was trying to text Adeline to update her on everything but kept getting distracted by Dean's blank face as he stared off at nothing while sitting in bed. I made eye contact with Sam, giving him a sad smile, we were thinking the same thing. He turns to his brother, watching him for a moment before speaking, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Dean replies gruffly. Sam looks back at me again and I give him an encouraging nod, “What is it?” he asks again this time more gently.

“We did the right thing here didn't we?” Dean asks, finally breaking. It was difficult to answer him, on one hand we stopped someone from playing God and killing people who they found immoral in which none of the victims were bad people, it wasn’t like they were criminals but to her they were still wicked (god forbid someone has a different opinion than you). But on the other hand it was saving people, except to pay one life for another wasn’t exactly gracious work. Yet, we were doing the same thing, trying to play God and cheat death. I had even admitted to being willing to make great scarface’s to do so, in that aspect I wasn’t so different from Sue Ann in the very beginning.

“Of course we did,” Sam answers, and he really does sound sure. Dean sighs, hanging his head, “It doesn't feel like it.” Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and the parallel from only earlier in the week is not lost on me, “I got it” Sam volunteers getting up from his seat to open the door, “Hey Layla. Come on in.”

Huh.

“Hey” she waves awkwardly. Dean quickly rises from his place on the bed, “How did you know we were here?”

“Sam...called. He said you...wanted to say goodbye?”

Dean glances at Sam and I join in on the glaring, he really needs to start telling me things sooner. But he just smiles sheepishly, “I'm gonna...grab a soda.”

I stand abruptly from my chair, Dean should have his time with Layla. Maybe he won’t feel as guilty, “I’m gonna join you” I declare, “A soda sounds great!” I follow Sam out the door, closing it behind me.

[fckbatmanhiskidsareminenow]

Kill me slowly, Baby you know I don’t fucking mind

warnings: vent fic about illness, mildly graphic depictions/imagery of physical and mental illness

tim drake centric

title: life waster by corpse (don’t look at me ok im embarrassed)

word count: 912

beta read and edited by the lovely @vespertilionis

Do not cry. Do not cry.

That’s all Tim can tell himself as he stiffly walks back to his car. He knows how this is going to go, he’s not too sure why he got his hopes up. He feels like an idiot.

Finally, in the safety of his car, he actually looks down at the referrals he has been given. One for a CT scan and the other for an overabundance of blood tests. He didn’t ask for either. All he wanted was a referral to see an ENT, but the doctor hadn’t even looked at him before she started talking over him and suggesting other ideas.

There’s a few things we can do before you see an ENT. It’s been a year since he started feeling like this. All he wanted was to see a specialist, someone who would know what was wrong.

It’s probably not what you think it is. Probably?

You’re crazy, nothing is wrong with you.

Nothing is wrong.

Nothingiswrongnothingiswrongnothingiswrong

He throws the referrals across the car before slamming his fist into the steering wheel and letting out the loudest scream he could.

It peters off into a sob when he realises he can’t hear anything. Well, anything but a high ringing. He sits there hyperventilating in his own version of silence.

He calls the CT place while driving, desperately trying to sound like he hasn’t been crying. He almost breaks down when the receptionist mentions he had the same test done around this time last year.

As he pulls into the driveway of the manor, he takes a moment to calm down. Firstly, because he doesn’t want to talk about it, and secondly, because he feels guilty for being upset. At least the doctor was running tests. Sure, she didn’t really listen to him and suggested tests for allergies and anemia, which he is sure he didn’t have, but she still decided to do tests. Other people have been sick for years and don’t have doctors listen to them, so he should be grateful.

Maybe she doesn’t think he’s crazy.

He tries not to think about the fact that if the CT scan comes back and shows his sinuses blocked, the doctor might put him on his fourth round of antibiotics. Even after the other three rounds have completely tanked his immune system. Or that if the blood tests show he is anemic, she might focus on that instead of the actual problem. Like the horrible constant congestion that makes him feel like his brain is being compressed into a liquid that’s going to explode out of his ears and nose. Or that if he does have the disease he thinks he does, he might lose his hearing. He really doesn’t want to think about that part.

When he enters the manor, he heads straight for the cave. He’s hoping for the perfectly healthy distraction of vigilantism. His hopes are immediately crushed when Bruce turns to him and asks him how the appointment went.

“Oh, uh, it went ok. We’re redoing some of the tests we did last year,” he says awkwardly, wishing for once Bruce would notice he didn’t want to talk about it. Once again, his wishes go unheard as the older man just looks concerned.

“You don’t seem too happy about that.”

No shit, man, no clue how you got the title of world’s greatest detective.

He tries to push away the resurfacing anger by laughing, but it comes out wrong.

“Yeah well, last time the results didn’t really get us anywhere. So, I was kinda hoping she would try something else.” Another laugh. Bruce nods and turns away. Either he finally got the hint or doesn’t know where to go with Tim’s response.

Relieved that the conversation is finally over, he starts heading to the computer when he hears Jason scoff.

“Ya know what I think you need? Some concrete to harden you up.”

Harden you up. Fucking whiny baby.

Harden you up. Ungrateful child.

Harden you up. Nothings wrong with you Tim, you’re out of your mind.

Tim stops in his tracks and turns his head slowly to face the older boy.

“What?” he says coldly, causing Jason to raise his hands in surrender.

“Hey! I was just joking with you.” he laughs, and Tim’s eye twitches.

“No, explain it to me, so I can understand how it was supposed to be funny.” He can feel the anger rising again. Jason lowers his arms, looking guilty for his ‘joke’, but Tim couldn’t care less.

“I just meant that you complain a lot. It’s kinda miserable.” He answers, sounding defeated, but again Tim couldn’t care less.

“Why do you think that is Jason? Do you think I’m complaining because it’s fun?” “No—“ “No! I’m not! I am fucking miserable! I’m exhausted and dizzy and I feel like my brain is rotting in my skull! And I’m sick of people not listening to me and thinking I’m fucking CRAZY!”

His throat hurts from screaming. He’s hyperventilating again, but he can’t hear it over the sound of the ringing again. It hurts. He shakes his head to try and clear it, but it just makes the world spin around him. A hand reaches out to steady him but he pushes it away.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” God, his voice is always so much louder when his ears are blocked.

He stumbles up the stairs, knowing he’s probably stomping, but he can’t hear that either.

[mvrtaiswriting]

Omg hi. First of all, congrats on hitting 1k followers! That’s amazing 😍😍 your writing is really great, so it’s definitely deserved!

I would love to participate in your 1000 follower event :3 with the prompt “stop squirming.” character: zoro/ace please 🤭

If that prompt has already been picked then lemme know and I’ll choose another one 👀

This event is really cool btw ❤️ I hope you get lots of participants and your blog grows even more! Take care :D

Ace x Prompt 1 (taking care of a lover's injury) - "stop squirming."

hii my dear <3 thanks for the support, I truly adore you!! i just knew you were doing when you chose Ace... how could I not pick him?!! HE IS MY BABY😭 also this is very shot but i hope it meets your expectations! i enjoyed writing it so much so thank you again for trusting me with this!

gender neutral reader | mention of needles | fluff | 559 words.

reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated ♡ if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee. -> from this event.

“Stop squirming.”

You scolded him, pressing the cotton pad against his wound.

"It burns."

Ace pouted, hissing as the rubbing alcohol touched the exposed flesh on his arm.

"Should be used to it."

You remarked sarcastically, sighing at his reaction and continuing your medication. Ace clicked his tongue in annoyance, trying to stay as still as possible as you stitched up his deep cut. He kept quiet as he observed you meticulously sewed him up - he loved the little frown that formed on your face whenever you were concentrating, the delicacy of your hands as you twisted the needle and thread so quickly yet so smoothly, making the whole thing almost painless.

This was your thing - Ace would visit your office almost daily. He had discharged Marco from being his doctor and appointed you instead - and since then, you had to deal with Ace always knocking on your door for the slightest of symptoms. Of course, most of the times you also had to deal with the consequences of his recklessness - always ending up taking care of him and the injuries he covered himself in. At one point, you almost doubted he did it on purpose - how could someone so powerful be so clumsy? How could the Fire Fist always end up with a bad injury even when battling the weakest of his opponents?

Yet, there was something so horribly romantic about spending your afternoons taking care of him. What started as a way to distract him from the pain of medical procedures became an excuse to share your deepest secrets. Laying on your medical bed, he told you about his troublesome childhood and of that time Whitebeard saved his life. And so did you - hiding before your surgical mask, you told him of why you chose to become both a doctor and a pirate. Every band-aid on Ace's skin marked a confession, transforming a consult for a runny nose into knowing each other better, your bodies forced to remain only a few millimetres away from one another. It probably wasn't the most ethical of thoughts for a doctor to have, but you couldn't help but stare at the door of your medical office waiting for Ace to burst in, asking you to fix him up.

"All done. You'll feel like new in a day or two."

You smiled, taking off your gloves. Still observing the bandage applied to his shoulder, you made sure everything was tight enough. You hadn't realised how close Ace was until your lifted your face. His eyes were piercing through yours as he bit his bottom lip, your noses almost brushing against each other.

"Y'know what could make me feel better?" Ace whispered, a cunning smirk slowly forming on his lips. Raising your eyebrow in response, a small laugh escaped your lips. Ace was clever, witty, irresistible - and it had you wrapped around his finger. Letting his hand slip on your cheek, he gently pulled you closer to him - finally pressing your lips against yours. A smirk appeared on Ace's lips once again as you urgently reciprocated the kiss, slowly reaching him on the medical bed he was sitting on. His strong arms were quick to wrap around your body, lifting you up and putting your figure over his.

"Oh, I have an idea or two."

[meganwritesfanfics]

Clandestine Meetings (Joel Miller x Reader) Chapter 1

Next Chapter

Joel Miller x Reader

Joel's life has been filled with darkness and despair. For years it has felt as though his life had been drained of all color. He never dreamed that he would find anything to change that. That is until one day he finds a girl who becomes his rainbow.

Word Count: 1552

Rating M: For later chapter. Right now it's just a meet-cute. Some angst from Joel, but kind of fluffy.

Honestly, I didn't expect to be making this series. I had planned a one-shot around the idea of this reader character. But when I started to write a small background scene, I realized how great of a series this could make. I have ideas of where I would like this to go, and I would love to hear your feedback and ideas, but I am very excited to get this started.

It had been a few months since Joel, Tommy, and Tess had found themselves inside the Boston QZ and Joel felt as if he was going stir-crazy. After years of roaming, it felt weird to be trapped behind walls, and to be trapped with the F.E.D.R.A officers was even worse. But things had changed, Tommy had changed. And Joel could see the wear of the years, and what the years had brought, on Tommy. 

Not only that but Joel needed a change. He still knew that he would do anything to protect his brother, and now Tess. But having done horrible and despicable things to keep them safe, he needed somewhere that wouldn’t require him to destroy his own soul to do that. Plus it had also been years since he slept in an actual bed, even if it was just the shitty mattress that F.E.D.R.A had given them. 

And while the work that F.E.D.R.A required it’s “citizens” to participate in was back breaking, demeaning, and horrific. Some days Joel didn’t mind it. It gave him something to do, distracted his mind, kept his hands busy. Not to mention it gave him many chances to meet knew “clients,” for his and Tess’ business. 

Almost instantly when they had arrived Joel and Tess had started smuggling. It brought in a good income, plus they could trade for some otherwise impossible items from F.E.D.R.A. officiers. Plus Joel liked having some power over F.E.D.R.A officers, it made it easier to get out of scrapes, when his clients knew that if anything happen to him or Tess they would lose their suppliers. 

But as the days, weeks, and months dragged on life seemed to fade into monotony. His life had already lost it’s color and light when he lost Sarah, but now it seemed to descend to a sad, depressing grayscale. 

That was until he saw her. 

He hadn’t even noticed her at first. Joel had been so tuned out to the world around him as he moved the bodies, he didn’t even see as the workers around him began to wander away. He just kept picking the bodies up from the truck, and dropping them in the fire. It was probably one of the worst jobs F.E.D.R.A had, but it paid and not many people chose it, so it meant that there were always slots open. 

Suddenly he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He turned and his whole world stopped when he saw her. Joel wasn’t what you would call a romantic by any means, and after the shit he had been through, love or anything close to it had never even crossed his mind. But when he saw her, for a moment he felt his heart skip a beat. He felt as though his whole world was Kansas at the beginning of the Wizard of Oz, and this girl was his Oz. She beamed, even with all of the destruction around her, she gave off a feeling of comfort and warmth. 

And there she was, standing around the workers, pouring out jugs of water into small tin cups. He could see beside her was a small wagon filled with even more jugs. He was taken aback by the act of kindness. Immediately his first thought was ‘what could she possibly be benefiting from this.’ Because of course no one in this world could act with genuine kindness their had to be a catch. 

There was something about her though, for however much Joel’s heart ached at the sight of her, Joel’s mind hated her. How dare someone look so perfect, and happy with everything going on in the world. How dare she stir something inside of him that he never wanted to feel. How dare someone like her exist in this cruel and unforgiving world. 

From that moment, Joel swore to himself that he would avoid her at any cost. Any time she came around with her cart of water, or even when she brought around food, he would hide in the shadows, or just walk off the job entirely, not even caring if he didn’t get paid. She made him feel something, something that terrified him, and Joel had vowed a long time ago to never let anything make him feel like that ever again. 

But even with his hiding and running away, that didn’t mean he didn’t steal glances at her every time he had the chance. And the more jobs he took in town the more he saw her. He even tried taking jobs at early and late shifts, and yet she still was there. It seemed the harder the job, the more often she would show up throughout the day. And she wasn’t just there to pass out the water and food. Sometimes she would just show up for a moment of conversation. Joel would watch her as she talked with people, laughing with them, crying with them, pulling them into her arms for a comforting embrace. 

And people would flock to her when they saw her, but not Joel. He still kept waiting for an explanation, some sort of answer as to why she was doing what she was. And he thought he had found it, when he saw her one day walking hand in hand down the street with a F.E.D.R.A officer, one of Joel’s best clients. 

“That’s it,” Joel thought. “She must be pretending to gain people’s trust so she can sell them out to her F.E.D.R.A husband.” He had clocked the wedding ring on her finger early on. This was the only logical explanation he could come up with. Joel knew he had to keep an eye out for her, and make sure she never got close to him. And yet, he never told Tess or Tommy about her. The girl could be a threat to his buisness and lord knew Tommy was getting himself mixed in with a dangerous crowd. Even knowing this, he couldn’t bring himself to mention her. 

All of that changed, one day he was working on street cleaning duty, it was the middle of summer and the heat was unbearable. Already three members of the crew had dropped and had to be carted away to a F.E.D.R.A hospital for heat exhaustion. And it must have been the heat that caused Joel not to be on his a game, and on the hunt for the girl. Because the next thing he knew he heard a beautiful voice behind him say

“Sir,” 

He immediately turned and saw her y/e/c staring at him. There was a small smile on her face as she held out her hand which held a cup of water. 

“Would you like some water?” She said and again the sound of her voice ripped through Joel and he almost shivered at the sound. 

This was the first time she had ever approached him, of course, it wasn’t like he had ever given her a chance to. And in all the times he thought about her, and planned out what he would do if this happened, he never knew how he would feel when it did. He felt like he was a teenage boy again, with a crush on the most popular girl in school. And all he wanted to do was fall at her feet and worship the ground he walked on. 

“It is a very hot day, and I’m sure some water would do you good.” She piped up again. 

Joel just grunted as he reached out and took the water from her. He immediately averted his gaze on her as he took a drink. Not even truly realizing how dehydrated he was until he could feel the cool liquid coat his dry throat. Without looking at her again he handed her back the cup. 

“Thank you.” She said and stopped and immediately looked at her. 

“For what?” He snapped.

“I know these jobs aren’t easy, and I know you aren’t treated the way you all should be. So thank you.” She smiled, and she sounded entirely sincere. 

For a moment Joel thought she must be an insanely good actress, but the more he looked into her warm and comforting gaze, he realized that she actually meant it. And maybe for the first time in years, hell a decade, he had met someone who was genuinely good. 

“I’m Y/N.” She extended her hand out towards him 

“Joel,” He responded back as he took her hand, the feeling of their skin touching felt electric. 

And before he had a chance to say anything else, other workers had come up to her begging for food and water. With a chance at escape, Joel slipped away heading back into the street and back to work, but not before stealing one last look back at Y/N. To his surprise he found her look at him, and when their eyes met, Y/N smiled as her cheeks turned a light shade of pink, and she quickly went back to looking at the people around her. 

“I’m fucked.” Joel thought.

Next Chapter

[indigostudies]

so, you're taking a class and you hate it: how to make a bad class suck less

as i struggle through my spring quarter classes, i thought i may as well make a post about something currently relevant to me: taking classes that you don't like.

maybe you're taking a degree or distribution requirement; maybe you signed up for a class because it's exactly in your field of interest, but the professor is a really bad lecturer (not that this is personal experience or anything); maybe, you just...........don't enjoy your class for whatever reason.

so, you have two options: drop the class, or continue on.

since you're reading this post, i assume you can't drop the class for whatever reason—something from above, or maybe something else. i'm not going to judge you! but here's some things that, in my experience, have made bad classes, well, less bad (in no particular order).

one: find ways to make your time before and after the class in question as enjoyable as possible. likely this class drains your energy horribly—so doing something that makes you happy or calms you down before the class, and something to destress afterwards, you'll feel a bit better almost immediately. this can, in my experience, take me from hating an entire day of my week, to being frustrated but able to deal with it. examples of things i do, depending on my energy levels and time:

take a nap

read some of a book

draw

take a walk

write

two: schedule your week so you finish everything up until the day of the class (both for that class and your others) before the day of the class. for me, there's nothing more stressful than getting out of my second to last class, and realising i still have to do five types of homework before i can even think of relaxing or calming myself down about the class i'm dreading—assuming i even have any time to do so! this is a more long-term strategy, so if you can, you should start to do this as soon as possible. for me, this looks like making to do lists on my blog to keep myself accountable, or setting alarms to remind myself to do things (since i'm not very good at keeping a planner).

three: talking to your friends or family! the power of complaining before or after a really draining experience can be very cathartic. oftentimes, your friends or family will be very sympathetic to your frustrations. they can also help distract you if you need it!

four: somewhat similar to one—reward yourself for making it through the class! on wednesdays after my dreaded class, i buy myself a cookie and watch bad book reviews, because i am both food- and gossip-motivated.

five: keep on top of classwork. if nothing else, you have to make sure you don't fall behind in your least favourite class. it'll make everything feel fifty times worse. if you have a required presentation and a final project, start working on them or thinking about what/how you're going to do them as soon as you find out about them. get these done as soon as possible, or at least start working on them, so that when the due-date approaches you don't panic.

hopefully my experiences will help you!