#sad reader

[bookofancientsouls]

Hanako-kun x sad reader

I see no reason to lie here, this started out as a comfort for myself since I was feeling a bit down today. The ending gets a little choppy, not to mention this is my first time posting something I’ve written. Scary times.

Please enjoy my lovely darlings. 

Warnings? General sad themes

Word count: 674

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

You always had been close to very few people—the ones who didn't leave you behind at least. Slowly, your smile began to fade along with grades taking a hard swan dive into the bubbling mass of sorrow, misery, and repressed fury, burning in the ravine where once a heart of passion and kindness beat proudly. Smiling felt like trying to plant a flower in concrete, a nonexistent, pointless, and brainless endeavor. A vibrant soul deadened by its own thoughts. 

One thing kept you diverted from desperation's savage jaws. It was the Phantom on the third floor. He is one of the only friends you have. Sure, he could be an all-out prick at times, but that ghostly prick was the only one who could crack your stone-cold face. 

So, after a brimful day of failed tests, a mental breakdown, and an oreo, your mind was drained, unable to work another complex thought. Soon aching feet brought you up the stairs, a bag gripped in hand. The scent swept by your nose, pleading the tongue just for one small taste. 

Before temptation had been breached, your feet had brought you in front of the girl's bathroom. Were awaited a certain boy, cards in hand, distracted from the game held with the mokke. Ember eyes darted towards the door hearing it squeak as you pushed it open. Hanako allowed the cards to flutter down and pile upon the widow seal. 

He was just about to scold you for leaving Yashiro to clean all by herself. Then he stopped, you didn’t seem right, a little scruffier than normal. 

 “(Y/n) where have-”

He paused mid-sentence, the smell of the freshly baked treats snatching his attention. Now those large eyes connected with yours. A soft chuckle escaped you, holding up the bag. With furrowed brows, he took the bag before setting it off to the side. Next, cold hands intertwined themselves into yours. A stern line took the place of Hanako's signature smile. A confused expression spread like a plague on your face, eyes locked onto the dead boy. You moved to speak, but the seventh wonder had beaten you to it. 

“Where have you been?”

“I-”

“Please don't lie, (y/n)”

The pressure began to build itself behind your eyes, in your throat, gripping at your lungs. That feeling dared you to speak, dared you to utter a single thought that beat you senseless in the night. 

The corners of your mouth up turned into a smirk as hands bolted into the comfort of your pockets. 

“Been busy” you replied, shoulders shrugged before taking a step backward, pulling out of Hanako's grasp. The ghost had known better, after all, he could read you like an open book. You had been friends far too long for him not to. Before you knew it your thoughts engulfed you once more.

 He was on to you.

He would call you worthless, weak for crying over the stupidest of things, that you could never do a damn thing right, just like everyone else had. The tears felt like a battering ram against your eyelids. It began to physically hurt to hold back as your thoughts ate you alive. Now you had been violently jerked out of the cage your thoughts build around you, by Hanako, his arms wrapped tightly around you. By this point the tears had burst through, soaking your face. Your voice cracked, arms hovering right above Hanako’s back, still refusing to give into these emotions. 

“I’m not going to force you to talk about it, but please, stay here until you feel better”

He wiped away your tears, before pinching your cheeks making you laugh. Now he turned his attention toward the bag you had brought with you. Reaching in it, he pulled out one of the many plain donuts that still remained warm. You took it and swiftly took a bite, savoring the soft texture. You moved to sit on the floor, Hanako sitting beside you. This may not be much, but this was home.

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLEFT ALONE * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where, after a difficult week, Matt takes out all his stress on Y/N, causing great damage to their relationship.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　fighting, yelling, cursing, dark thoughts. ANGST!

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

"I don't know where you want to get with that, Matt." Y/N sighed, closing her eyes tightly for a few minutes before opening them again, keeping them fixed on the road in front of the car. She had her head resting on her right hand, and her elbow braced next to the passenger door window.

Matt, as usual, had gone to pick up Y/N from work after her shift, but he was surprised to have to wait for an hour in the car for his girlfriend to finally be released, as her boss had demanded that she had to work overtime.

Despite being wrong, Matt felt furious.

His week was more than hectic with the start of sales of the 6 million clothing collection, as he and his brothers had to spend hours autographing photos of themselves that would go with each order. In addition to - by Nick and Chris's choice -, the three of them were the ones who hand-packed the first ones, which resulted in Matt having to stay awake until late hours, and waking up early everyday to fulfill his other tasks.

With all that, having to sit in his car for an hour, with only his phone and in such an uncomfortable seat seemed to increase his irritation, and he couldn't help but start an argument with his girlfriend, feeling like a pressure cooker about to explode.

"I'm just saying that you don't stop at home anymore. You just work all day, as if it was your number one priority in life. And now you've started this nonsense of working overtime!" Matt accused, gesturing exaggeratedly with his right hand while keeping his left one on the steering wheel.

"It's not like I asked to work overtime, Matt! You and your brothers have worked in a grocery store once, you know how it works-"

"Don't you dare bring up Chris and Nick's name. They have nothing to do with your lack of responsibility within a relationship." The boy took his eyes off the road momentarily, giving her a cold look that sent shivers running up her spine.

"Matt, you're being ridiculous! I understand your week has been tiring-" Matt cut the girl off again, shaking his head nervously.

"No, you don't know nothing, Y/N!" His tone was arrogant, a tone that the girl didn't remember ever hearing from him. "I'm exhausted because of my own work, and I still have to come and pick you up every day! And now you make me stay stuck in this car for an hour, waiting for Miss Perfect here to decide to leave." His voice gradually increased in volume.

Y/N could already feel the sensations of the ugly crying that was about to come, taking a deep breath and counting to 10 in her head.

"Then don't pick me up anymore, Matt! You were willing to come every day after my work just until some days ago, but if it's so hard for you now, don't come anymore." Y/N replied, her tone lower than her boyfriend's but still carrying much stress.

"How can you be so ungrateful?" Matt shouted, slamming his hands against the steering wheel violently.

"Matt, look, I'm sorry- Hey, keep your eyes on the road!" Y/N ignored the pang she felt in her heart at the brunette's words, fear rising through her veins as she saw the car move further away from the main road, as a result of his lack of attention.

Her eyes were wide as she raised her hands, ready to grab the steering wheel if necessary.

"You know what? I'm done." Matt spoke through gritted teeth, turning the car sharply to the right until it stopped on the side of the road.

"What are you doing? Matt?" Y/N asked, her breath coming out shakily as her eyes traveled down the dark, deserted street, to her boyfriend's face, which seemed to be covered in a gray cloud of hate.

"I'm done with this. If you don't want to take responsibility for your own mistakes and don't understand the seriousness of this relationship like I do, then maybe it's not worth the effort." He unlocked the doors, crossing his arms and keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his nostrils flaring as a result of his hard breathing.

"M-Matt, don't do that." The girl tried, swallowing hard.

She reached out her hand towards him with the intention of gently touching his arm, but Matt pulling away roughly, as if she were a plague, made her stop abruptly for a few seconds, her hand slowly lowering.

“I need to think, Y/N.” He shook his head, resting his elbows on the steering wheel and laying his head in his hands, closing his eyes tightly. "Get out." He demanded sharply.

Y/N's eyes widened, her heart stopping momentarily.

"W-what? Are you crazy? Look at the time, Matt. How am I going to-"

"Get out." Matt interrupted her, not once looking up. His tone was flat and cold.

Y/N looked at him for a few more seconds, as if waiting for him to apologize and say it was all a sick joke. But that never happened.

She quickly pulled the car handle, grabbing her purse and getting out of the passenger seat. The cold night air hit her body with force as if needles were piercing her skin, eliciting a strong shiver from her members.

Her hand pushed the door hard, closing it, the sound echoing like a dull thud. Her eyes watched the car restart not even a second later, screeching away.

Y/N remained still for a few seconds - or minutes -, watching Matt's car disappear into the distance, her hope of him turning around slowly disappearing.

"Come back." Her voice sounded so broken, just like her insides. "P-please."

She spun around, taking note of the street completely deserted of cars or humans, the only source of life being the streetlights.

The girl quickly hooked her purse onto her right shoulder, crossing her arms tightly around her torso and beginning the steps of the long walk she would have to take to get home - if she even could call that place her home anymore. The possibility of Matt kicking her out after the events made her legs tremble.

Her throat started to hurt from the crying that she was still holding back. The emotions rising in her chest were like bile in her throat; It burned and hurt like never before. Her heart felt like it was being crushed by a human hand, and it didn't take long for loud sobs to escape her lips, her eyes stinging from the hot tears in contact with the freezing wind.

It was minutes of walking without stopping, her feet ached from the tension in her body, a result of the intense cold and the several times she turned back, checking if she wasn't being followed.

The familiar street soon took over her blurred vision, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. Thick tears were still rolling from her eyes, but her sobs had stopped, being replaced by small sniffles.

Y/N shuffled down the sidewalk, passing the houses neighboring hers, before finally stopping in front of her front door. Her hands, practically frozen by the cold, opened her purse in a quick movement, rummaging through the smaller pockets, looking for the key.

She closed her eyes tightly when she couldn't find it, vaguely remembering just throwing it in the glove compartment of Matt's car that morning since she was in such a rush and still eating her breakfast.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she fished out her phone, cursing under her breath when she noticed that the battery was almost all gone. Just her lucky day.

She quickly unlocked the screen, going into her contact list and clicking on Chris's one. The boy answered on the second ring, surprising Y/N.

"Y/N? Thank God, where are you guys?" Chris's voice sounded relieved. Y/N frowned, her mind creating thousands of horrible scenarios as to why Matt hadn't gotten home yet.

The path she took, which took her almost 30 minutes of walking - or more, since she was walking slowly due to the cold - would not even take 15 minutes by car.

"C-Chris, open the door for me. Please." Her voice was broken, her teeth chattering as her body felt the temperature drop even more now that she stood still.

"Are you out there? Alone?" He asked exasperatedly. The sound of his bed shuffling sounded from behind, probably the result of him getting up.

"Yeah... Just hurry, please." Y/N repeated, her tone completely vulnerable.

The line went dead at the same instant. Her right hand - which was holding the device - moved away from her ear quickly, her eyes only finding the negative battery icon.

She threw her phone into her purse again, her eyes prickling with new tears that wanted to flow. Her mind created terrible thoughts about herself and her day, and all she wanted most was to sleep and perhaps never wake up again.

The sound of keys sounded on the other side of the door seconds before it was abruptly opened. Chris's figure appeared, his wide eyes carrying immense concern as they roamed Y/N's body, seeming to search for any injuries.

"Oh my God, you're freezing." He confirmed when he noticed her shaking, gently pulling her inside, before closing the door again. He rubbed his hands over Y/N's arms, which, even though they were covered by the fluffy jacket, were still extremely cold.

The warm air from the heater inside the house welcomed the girl's body gracefully, surrounding her like a thin blanket. She sighed, closing her eyes momentarily.

"Where the hell is Matt? I thought he was going to pick you up." Chris asked exasperatedly, helping her take her purse off her shoulder, hanging it on the rack next to the door.

Y/N felt her eyes fill with tears again at the mention of her boyfriend's name. An ugly sound of choked sobs escaping her throat caught Chris's attention, who stopped his movements and turned his eyes to her.

"Oh no, what did he do?" His tone was gentle as he approached, pulling her into a tight hug as he watched her shake her head in denial repeatedly, her lips trembling. "Let's go to my room, you need a hot shower and fresh clothes."

Chris slowly stepped away, keeping one of his hands on Y/N's shoulders, guiding her through the kitchen and down the stairs towards his own room.

The door was already open - being left like that when the boy rushed after receiving her call -, the two of them just passing through it before Chris closed it, keeping the hot air trapped between the four walls.

"Go take a shower, I'll get you some new clothes from your closet, okay? There's a clean towel in the cabinet under the sink." The boy indicated, watching his sister-in-law nod weakly, a low "thank you" escaping her lips before she could enter the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

It didn't take long for Y/N to step out again, already dressed in the Fresh Love sweatshirt set that Chris placed on the sink - just by putting his arm between the door and the frame.

Even though she wanted to melt like hot water and go down the drain just like her tears that fell imperceptibly, her feet hurt too much to support her weight for even another minute, begging for a rest.

Chris was sitting on the right side of the bed, his back against the headboard and his legs above the duvet, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, seeming to be waiting for her.

The sound of the bathroom door closing attracted his attention, and he quickly locked his cell, putting it on the bedside table before tapping the empty space next to him, silently calling Y/N to sit there.

The girl walked to the indicated side, lifting the duvet and sitting on the mattress, staying in the same position as Chris, but with her legs covered.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" He asked calmly, watching her closely, trying to read her expressions, but seeing only an ocean of pain in every line of her face and eyes.

"Matt left me in the middle of the road." She swallowed hard, shaking her head while closing her eyes tightly. "We had a fight. My boss demanded from me to work overtime and I forgot to tell Matt, so he ended up waiting for me for an hour in his car. He was tired from the day and the week, and I think the stress built up on both our sides, and he just started yelling at me." Y/N shrugged, sniffing momentarily, trying to hold back her tears.

"Wait, he left you in the middle of the road, alone and in the cold? To come home walking?" Chris's eyes widened, a look of disbelief occupying his blue orbs as he tried to process the information.

"Yeah." The girl's voice sounded low and vulnerable, her head lowering and her eyes focusing on her hands above the duvet, feeling embarrassed by her boyfriend's actions. "I tried to intervene at some point, but he was so mad." She took a deep breath, biting her bottom lip hard, the pain almost numb next to the one she felt in her heart. "I don't know what I did wrong, Chris." Her voice broke, a dry sob escaping her throat.

"I'm so sorry for my brother's actions, Y/N." Chris sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. "I promise you did absolutely nothing wrong. Don't let those thoughts get the best of you."

"I just... Maybe I'm not really giving our relationship enough credit. Or maybe I'm not enough to fit into Matt's life patterns and busy days." She douted, playing with her fingers as a nervous act.

"Why don't you try to get some sleep? I imagine how tired you are and it's late. We can talk about this tomorrow, but try to clean your mind for now, okay?" He suggested.

Chris helped her lay down after receiving a nod of agreement, adjusting the duvet over her body. The girl moved her head, laying it on his left thigh, seeking comfort. He quickly put his hand on her hair, stroking the area calmly, lulling her into sleep.

After making sure she was already dreaming, the boy moved her slowly - so as not to wake her -, laying her completely on the mattress before getting up. He sat down in his gaming chair, crossing his legs on the seat.

Chris closed his eyes tightly, massaging his temples, trying to reduce the tension there. His eyes remained on Y/N's figure, caring for her sleep like a worried older brother, longing to have the power to erase the entire event from the girl's memory.

Matt would hear from him when he arrived.

© vanteguccir

[ms-snape]

Snape propose reader right after end of the war. She is like.: You are alive ? But she say yes anyway.

Title: You're Alive

Warning: Kinda depressed reader....

Words Count: 1700+

A/N: Girllll, your requests are literally my favorites to write

Masterlist

---

It had been months since the war ended, but for Y/n, peace never truly came. While the rest of the wizarding world began to piece itself back together, she was trapped in a ceaseless cycle of grief and loss. Her days became repetitive, like a cruel loop, each one identical to the last, and every morning, when she forced herself out of bed, felt like another small act of survival. There was nothing left for her but the weight of an unspoken goodbye, a farewell she had never had the chance to utter.

Severus was dead.

The words echoed endlessly in her mind, like the tolling of a death bell. When she had first heard the news, it hadn’t felt real. It had come from Minerva, her voice soft and laden with sympathy, eyes full of sorrow as she delivered the news. Y/n had stood there, numb and silent, as Minerva explained what had happened in the Shrieking Shack. Severus had died alone, his body found hours later among the debris and bodies scattered across the battlefield.

He was gone.

For days after, Y/n had simply wandered through life like a ghost, unsure of where to place her grief. She barely remembered the days following his death—the endless condolences, the quiet murmurs of pity. The world continued to move around her, but it had lost its meaning. There were times she thought the grief might swallow her whole, that the crushing weight of it would pull her down into a pit she would never be able to climb out of.

She stopped seeing friends. Stopped talking to the people who reached out. What was the point? They couldn’t give her back what she had lost. She spent most of her time alone, secluded in her small cottage, where the silence was only broken by the occasional rustle of wind through the trees. The space she had once loved now felt like a tomb—its quietness amplifying the hollow ache inside her.

Her only solace came in the routine. Each morning, she rose before dawn, despite the ever-present exhaustion that clung to her bones. She would make herself a cup of tea that she rarely drank, then head out to the greenhouses. The plants there didn’t judge her, didn’t expect anything from her. They simply grew, day by day, providing her with something to nurture, something to keep her hands busy.

Tending to the plants had become a way to distract herself from the constant ache. In the quiet of the greenhouses, she would lose herself in the familiar rituals—watering, pruning, checking for pests. She would kneel in the dirt, feeling the earth between her fingers, grounding herself in the life that persisted around her. It was the only thing that seemed real anymore.

She remembered how Severus had once stood at the edge of the greenhouses, his dark eyes watching her as she worked. His expression had been unreadable, but she had known, even then, that he found some strange comfort in seeing her amidst the greenery, her hands busy with life. He never said as much, but she could always sense the unspoken bond between them, the way he softened just slightly in her presence.

But now… there was nothing. Just the emptiness where he used to be.

As the weeks passed, the numbness gave way to something darker—anger. How could he have left her? How could he have gone off to fight in the war and not come back? It wasn’t fair. She hated him for it, hated him for being so brave and selfless, for choosing to sacrifice himself when she had needed him most.

And yet, even in her anger, she missed him with a ferocity that bordered on madness. The memories of him consumed her—his quiet, sarcastic remarks, the way his lips twitched ever so slightly when he found something amusing. She would catch herself sometimes, expecting him to walk through the door, to hear the familiar creak of the floorboards under his boots, only to be met with silence.

The nights were the worst. Alone in her cold bed, she would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment they had spent together. She longed for the warmth of his body beside her, for the steady rhythm of his breathing in the dark. But those moments were gone now, like a dream she could never return to.

As time wore on, the others began to accept Severus’ death as an unfortunate but necessary casualty of war. They moved on. They rebuilt their lives. But Y/n couldn’t move forward. She was stuck in the past, trapped by the memory of what had been and the unbearable weight of what never would be.

It was a stormy evening when the impossible happened.

The rain had started in the late afternoon, a slow drizzle that steadily grew into a downpour. Y/n had finished her work in the greenhouses early, her head pounding from a persistent headache. She trudged through the rain, not bothering to cast a spell to shield herself from the wet. What did it matter? Nothing really mattered anymore.

As she approached her cottage, something caught her eye—a figure standing near the front door, half-hidden in the shadows.

For a moment, she froze, her heart stuttering painfully in her chest. She squinted through the rain, trying to make out who it could be. Her mind immediately leapt to the worst possibility—had something else happened? Was someone here to deliver more bad news?

But as she stepped closer, she saw the unmistakable silhouette of a tall man, his dark robes billowing slightly in the wind.

Her breath hitched.

No. It couldn’t be.

“Severus?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the rain pounding against the ground.

The figure turned, and in that moment, her world shattered and reassembled itself all at once.

It was him.

Severus Snape stood before her, alive and whole, his dark eyes staring at her with an unreadable expression.

She felt as if the ground had been pulled out from beneath her, her knees nearly buckling under the weight of the shock. She had spent months mourning him, months believing that he was gone forever. And yet here he was, standing in the rain like some ghost returned from the dead.

“You’re alive,” she breathed, her voice trembling with disbelief.

He nodded, his face pale and gaunt, but unmistakably real. “I am.”

For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her hands shaking violently. This was real. He was real. But how? Why hadn’t he come to her sooner?

“I—I thought you were dead,” she managed to choke out, her voice breaking. “I… I thought you were gone.”

Severus’ expression softened slightly, a rare crack in his usual stoic demeanor. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “I didn’t mean for you to think that.”

Y/n shook her head, her emotions a chaotic storm inside her. She didn’t know whether to scream at him or collapse into his arms. Anger and relief warred within her, and she wasn’t sure which one would win.

“I waited for you,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I waited… for so long.”

Severus stepped closer, his dark eyes never leaving hers. He reached out, hesitant at first, then cupped her face in his hands. His touch was warm, solid, and the reality of it sent a shiver down her spine.

“I’m here now,” he said softly.

Tears welled up in her eyes, the dam breaking after months of holding everything inside. She had been so strong, so determined not to let the grief consume her, but now, with him standing before her, the weight of it all was too much to bear.

“I thought I lost you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Severus’ thumb brushed away the tears that slipped down her cheeks. “You didn’t.”

They stood like that for a long moment, the rain pouring down around them, soaking them both to the bone. But neither of them seemed to notice. The world had shrunk to just the two of them, the space between them charged with the weight of all that had been lost and found again.

And then, as if spurred by some unseen force, Severus reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, simple ring. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as he held it up, his dark eyes flickering with something she hadn’t seen in him for a long time—hope.

“I should have asked you this a long time ago,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But… will you marry me?”

For a moment, Y/n couldn’t breathe. The question hung in the air between them, heavy and full of meaning. She stared at him, her mind racing, trying to process everything that had just happened. He was alive. He was asking her to marry him. It felt surreal, like a dream she was afraid she might wake up from at any moment.

She didn’t answer right away.

Severus’ expression shifted, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. He lowered the ring slightly, his grip tightening around it. “You don’t have to say yes,” he said quickly, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I understand if—”

“No,” Y/n interrupted, her voice firm despite the tremor in her hands. “No, I just… I need a moment.”

He watched her, his dark eyes searching hers for any sign of rejection. But Y/n wasn’t rejecting him—far from it. She was just trying to wrap her mind around the fact that the man she had mourned for months was standing here, asking her to spend the rest of her life with him.

And finally, after what felt like an eternity, she nodded, a small, teary smile breaking through her grief.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Severus’ face softened, and without another word, he slipped the ring onto her finger. It was simple, elegant—just like him. And as he pulled her into his arms, Y/n let herself collapse into him, her tears mixing with the rain as they clung to each other like lifelines.

For the first time in months, Y/n felt something other than grief.

She felt hope.

[loverslantern]

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

Description: Sam's nightmare leads the group to Saginaw Michigan. But it's more than a nightmare and it's more than any ol' hunt. Things are revealed about the past as it sends them barreling into the future.

Warnings: Cannon violence, I might have gotten a little too carried away with the beginning scene sorry not sorry! flirtation, banter, mentions of su!cide, gore, mentions of child abuse, mentions of past abuse, guns, a roller coaster of emotions, and a lot of angst (no one can be happy...sorry!)

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn @crazyunsexycool @onlyangel-444 @seninjakitey @mystic-mara

Word Count: 9,912

Nightmare

(Masterlist, Prev Ch, Next Ch)

I turn over in my bed, burying my head deeper into the pillows to ignore the loud and insistent banging from my door. I mumble incoherently into the covers, sleep having its claws so deep into my brain. “Please open the door, sweetheart. ‘m tryna give you privacy here but if this door isn’t open in five seconds I’m gonna use my key,” Dean warns loudly, his voice raspy. I hum softly into the bedding but make no move to get up, instead snuggling deeper into the blankets. The remains of sleep creep into the corners of my mind, hazing the rest of my brain.

Suddenly a gentle calloused hand is on my bare shoulder, “Come on baby, as much as I wanna let you sleep Sammy needs us to hurry.”

“Mhm,” I hum halfheartedly, digging myself further into the bed if possible. “Alright that’s it,” he says finally. There's some shuffling before the covers are pulled back, a rush of cold air prickling my exposed legs followed by the warmth of his hands dragging up and down my calves slowly before leaving to pull down my slip nightgown further past my butt. That wakes me up. My eyes flutter open, and as much as I loved my little cotton nightgown every time I wore it to bed I woke up to a full tit out and the bottom up at my hips. Luckily this time I didn’t think it rode up so high, it had only felt like it was just barely covering my butt, so at the most, he saw a flash of my underwear which is not the most ideal thing to happen, and also insanely embarrassing but at least I was wearing one of my cute pairs. And at least he didn’t comment on it, except he did pull it down further which means he probably did see…oh god. 

“Okay! I’m awake Dean!” I say, my words half mumbled by the bed but if I turned over he would also be seeing a boob today and he had seen enough already. His hands grip my ankles, his thumbs rubbing my skin, oh lord. No. I have to focus…and not on how butterflies are erupting in my stomach, fluttering around frantically, “Not convinced baby, not until I see you get up,” he conceded. He was really playing with my resolve and it was a very fickle thing to begin with. 

“Yeah, so if I flip myself around you’d be getting flashed. These nightgowns…just you know…” I admit, my face warm for two different reasons. His thumbs pause and I can practically hear the arch of his brow and that devilish smirk, “By all means, continue…”

“Dean,” I warn.

“I really wouldn’t object to it, wouldn’t complain one bit,” he comments, his voice dripping with amusement. “Dean!” His hands leave me entirely and I suddenly miss the warmth he brought, “Alright, alright,” he gives in, “I’ll go, be waitin’ in the car. I’d hurry though Sam’s freaking out about needing to leave but won't say anythin’ more.”

The initial embarrassment of being woken up the way I was or at least the result of that, as well as being a little “late” had long worn off except for when Dean caught my eyes in the rearview mirror then it all came rushing back. But I needed to screw my head on right, and not get distracted by his playful teasing manner, he was most likely compensating for the fact that he had to say goodbye to the woman he loved again. Ending on good terms aside those feelings don’t just magically disappear especially when it only happened recently. Either way, I was thankful for the nightfall's darkness, because with each gaze my face heated up even if it was against my better judgment. 

I needed to focus.

Sam had his ear pressed into his phone, reading from a fake ID to potentially give real information, “McReady. Detective McReady, badge number 158. I’ve got a signal 480 in progress, I need the registered owner of a two-door sedan, Michigan license plate Mary-Frank-six-zero-three-seven…Yeah okay, just hurry.” 

Dean glances over at his brother, concern written in his eyes, “Sammy relax. I’m sure it’s just a nightmare.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Sam remarks. 

“You know considering he was right about your old house I’m pretty much convinced he’s right about this one too,” I add. Dean adjusts his hold on the steering wheel, “It could also just be a dream. Y’know, a normal everyday, naked-in-class, nightmare. This license plate, it won’t check out. You’ll see,” Dean tries to reason though I can't understand why he won’t accept that Sam has been right before and will be right again, my only guess would be fear.

“I mean I suppose,” I shrug, “but even just logically speaking unless you’re lucid dreaming you can’t read in your sleep, as the part of your brain that’s responsible for logic and intellect shuts down. So following that logic, he wouldn’t have been able to read or understand that license plate, that fact must hold some merit here.”

“Alright, maybe he was lucid dreamin’ then,” Dean suggests instead, finding any reason for his brother not to be a psychic. 

“It felt different Dean. Real,” Sam shakes his head, eyes focused as he tries to explain, “Like when I dreamt about the old house and Jessica.” 

“Yeah, that makes sense. You’re dreaming about our house, your girlfriend,” Dean points out, “This guy in your dream, you ever seen him before?”

“No,” Sam responds. 

“It doesn't matter if you've actually seen someone they can still be in your dreams because when you're walking around you're subconsciously watching and cataloging them,” I explain, “Though of course you're most likely to have dreams about people you see or think about more often, but still people you pass in real life can be in your dream.” Dean catches my eyes again in the mirror, gazing at me questioningly, “Why do you know so much about dreams?”

I shrug, “I don't know, it’s interesting so I just go down a rabbit hole of information. Plus there are a lot of psychological aspects to dreams which can make them important to analysis.” Dean shakes his head as if shaking away the information, “So why would he have premonitions about some random dude from Michigan.”

I rub my eyes, tiredness still trying to cling to me to the point of my eyes aching, “Yeah I don’t have an answer to that one.” Dean turns his gaze to his brother, silently asking him the same question, “I don’t know,” he answers. “Me neither,” Dean shrugs with one shoulder though it was more done to prove his point.

“Yes I’m here,” Sam says suddenly, pressing the phone closer to his ear. He goes silent, listening, then throws a glare at Dean and picks up his pen, “Jim Miller. Saginaw, Michigan. ‘You have a street address?… Got it. Thanks.” He moves his phone away from him, clicking a button, most likely hanging up, “Checks out. How far are we?”

“From Saginaw? Coupla hours,” Dean answers. “Drive faster.”

The Impala cruises to a stop, Emergency vehicles lined up followed by two medical examiners pushing a stretcher with a body bag on it just being zippered. We were late and it was hard to know whether it was by a couple of minutes or hours, but it didn’t matter because we were late and someone was dead. 

We approach the crowd, a couple of neighbors dressed in their pajamas and a coat watching the scene from behind a line of caution tape. “What happened?” Dean asks a nearby woman. 

“Suicide,” she answers, “Can’t believe it.”

“Did you know them?” Sam questions, moving to the woman’s other side. 

She frowns, “‘Saw him every Sunday at St. Augustine’s,” she replies, oversharing to a couple of strangers but it was helpful so there was no way we would tell her to stop, “He always seems…seemed so normal. I guess you never know what’s going on behind closed doors.”

“Guess not,” Dean acknowledges, looking straight ahead.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say softly, maybe she didn’t know the guy so well but seeing him weekly still meant something. She nods in thanks. 

“How did…uhh” Sam stammers, “How are they saying it happened?” It was a total conversation turn but once more it was necessary. “I heard they found him in the garage, locked inside his car with the engine running,” she answers. Carbon dioxide poisoning from a car makes it hard for it to be an accident so of course the initial thought would be suicide and I doubt it would be easy to prove otherwise with a death like that. 

“Do you know about what time they found him,” Sam pushes and I hope she doesn’t think we’re being weird about this and asking a little too many questions. “Oh, ‘just happened about an hour or two ago,” she says. Frick, frick that wasn’t long ago at all. “His poor family,” she continues, “I can’t even imagine what they’re going through.” I follow her gaze to a woman standing on the front steps crying against a middle-aged man. A young distraught man stands behind them. I could imagine what they were feeling and it was horrible. Grief was not pretty and those feelings were even uglier, leaving a permanent mark on your heart. 

Someone tugs on my sweatshirt sleeve, I follow the motion watching Dean walk away following his brother who had stormed away. I follow them, making the quick walk to the Impala. 

“Sam we got here as fast as we could,” Dean reasons. 

“Not fast enough,” Sam shakes his head, a pained look painted on his face, “It doesn’t make any sense man. Why would I even have these premonitions if there wasn’t a chance I could stop them from happening.”

I bit my lips, thinking for a moment before speaking, “Maybe it wasn’t about him exactly, like maybe it’s bigger than that. Sometimes that happens, remember what I said about oneiromancy or using dreams to predict the future? Well sometimes it’s not so literal, sometimes it serves as a warning or pointing you in a specific direction for whatever reason. Now I know your whole thing is different and more detailed than that but do you get what I mean?”

He nods, clearly thinking it over. “I don’t know though, I’m no expert but I’m just tryna say to keep it in mind,” I add. He shakes his head and sighs, “So what do you think killed him?”

“Maybe the guy just killed himself?” Dean suggests, “Maybe there’s nothing supernatural going on at all.”

“Then why would he have such a vivid dream of just some random dude dying?” I point out, immediately realizing my contradiction. “I dunno,” Dean shrugs, “Maybe it’s like you said, it’s pointing to somethin’ else.”

“I watched it happen. He was murdered by something. I watched it trap him in the garage,” Sam explains.

“What was it, a spirit, poltergeist, what?” Dean asks in rapid succession. Sam huffs, “I don’t know what it was. I don’t know why I’m having these dreams, I don’t know what the hell is happening!” He was freaking out, totally and utterly freaking out and he had every right to be. “It’s alright Sam,” I say softly, “We’ll figure this out, I promise. ‘No matter how long it takes.”

He sighs, mumbling a “Thanks.” I couldn't imagine what he was feeling, I always knew who I was even if nobody else did. To know one thing your whole life just to be thrown onto a totally new path with no explanation must be terrifying. “What,” Sam says suddenly throwing a look at his brother who was just staring at him. Dean shrugs, “Nothing. I’m just, I’m worried about you man,” he confesses.

“Well don’t look at me like that!” Sam yells. Dean looks away, “I’m not looking at you like anything,” he retorts, glancing back, “Though I gotta say, you do look like crap.”

“Dean. Really?” I say.

“Nice. Thanks,” Sam replies, pursing his lips. With a small smile, Dean moves to the driver's side of the car, pulling the door open, “Come on, let’s just pick this up in the morning. We’ll check out the house, talk to the family.”

“Dean, you saw them, they’re devastated. They’re not going to want to talk to us,” Sam reasons. Dean pauses in thought, “Yeah, you’re right. But I think I know who they will talk to.”

I scoff, “Who?”

I pull open my motel door, the sun shining brightly behind the man in front of me highlighting his stunning green eyes. His arms are hidden behind his back, “What do you have there?” I ask, squinting at him suspiciously. “Oh, just a little somethin’” he smirks devilishly, gazing down at me. 

“You’re scaring me,” I admit, “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be,” he grins revealing what he was hiding. He holds up a rectangular Halloween costume bag, the classic orange logo on the top, and a blonde woman in a nun costume holding a ruler on the other side. I look between him and the bag his smile never leaving his face a mischievous sparkle in his eye, “Sam and I are going as Preiests so we need our nun,” he explains.

“Tell me you're joking,” I say blankly, my face falling.

“Not at all sweetheart.”

I huff a laugh, pointing at the bag, “I’m not wearing that.”

“You gotta,” he replies.

“No offense to the nuns of the world, but I would rather be shot dead than wear that.”

“‘Cause it’s not cute?” Dean asks though it comes off more like a statement as he knows my answer. “Yes,” I answer flatly, “I’m not wearing that.”

“Maybe I shoulda picked up the slutty one,” he retorts, thinking he got me there. I cross my arms across my chest, wetting my lips, “You should’ve, ‘be good for Halloween,” I counter. Checkmate. He drags his eyes across my frame. my face heats up, “While I’d love to see to that, Halloween is months away and you’re being ridiculous.”

“Still not wearing it,” I say as sternly as I can manage, which isn’t very considering my mind trying to compute what he said. “Come on,” he grumbles, “what am I gonn’ do with a nun costume now?” He pushes past me, stepping deeper into the room. I close the door, turning around, “I don't know, return it? Or use it for one of your one-night stands, I’m sure you’ll find someone kinky enough.”

He looks at me blankly, deadpanning, “You’re wearing it.”

“No”

“Yes”

“No”

“Yes”

“I’ll just sit this one out, wait in the car or something ‘till you’re done,” I say.

“You’re wearing it,” he repeats.

“No”

“Yes”

“You’re not winning this one!” I throw my hands up.

“Y/N come on!”

“No!”

He groans, annoyed, “If you wear it I’ll buy you whatever book you want.”

Oh. I mean it’s only a couple of minutes of embarrassment and ugly clothing, “Okay, deal. Fine.” His wide grin returns, he throws the bag at me and I catch it, looking down at it with disgust. “‘Not gonna bite sweetheart,” Dean says as he heads out. 

“Yeah, but I might,” I mumble.

I fixed the Coif on my head for the hundredth time, I should’ve put more bobby pins in my hair. God. How did Nuns wear these? It just digs into your scalp and the most hair you could show was just the very top, probably about three inches, the rest of your hair was hidden along with your ears. It was the least cute or sexy thing to ever exist, faces were not being framed. 

“Quit poutin’, you're supposed to be a Nun, be happy,” Dean comments as he rounds the car.

“I look like I'm going to burn myself at the stake,” I huff.

Sam laughs, having to bite back the noise. “You look fine,” Dean says. I look down at myself, the long black dress covering everything down at my ankles and a strange-looking white squared bib thing around my neck, “Who are you lying to right now!” 

Dean huffs frustrated, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“At least you guys look good, like really good,” I say maybe a little too honestly. Sam had his hair all jelled back in a cute little hairdo, he was quite adorable. And on the other side, it really must have been the all-black attire, forget about the clerical cuff and that damn silver ring on his finger that made Dean look so good. Otherwise, there was something deeply wrong with me and I’d have to reevaluate my life, ‘cause there should be no reason for a “Priest” to look so damn fine. Lord, I need help. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” Dean declares. He leads the way crossing the street and walking right up the porch, he rings the doorbell that silver ring glinting in the light. Sam sighs, “This has gotta be a whole new low for us.”

“Amen,” I mumble.

The door opens slowly and I throw away my pout replacing it with a kind smile. The older man from yesterday stands at the door, blocking our view of the rest of the house. Now that it wasn’t dark out and I was far closer, I was able to take note of him: a round-faced man with dark eyebrows and a sort of buzzcut.“Good afternoon,” Dean starts, “I’m Father Simmons, this is Father Frehley, and this is Sister Kathern We’re new junior priests over at St Augustine's. May we come in?”

The man nods, stepping aside. “Thanks,” Dean says entering first. I give the man a polite nod, “We’re very sorry for your loss.”

“It’s in difficult times like these when the Lord’s guidance is most needed,” Dean adds.

“Look, you wanna pitch your whole ‘Lord has a plan’ thing? Fine. Just don’t pitch it to me. My brother’s dead,” the man spits, his face wobbling with choked emotion. An older blonde woman appears, her soft hair only reaching her shoulders, her eyes etched in sadness, “Roger. Please!” she lectures. Roger moves away, escaping to some other part of the house, “Excuse me.”

“I’m sorry about my brother-in-law. He’s…he’s just so upset about Jim’s death,” she explains.

“You don’t have to apologize, we completely understand. Everyone grieves differently,” I say sincerely. Her eyes soften, a sad smile on her face, “Would you like some coffee?”

“That would be great,” Dean answers.

****

I sit next to Sam on the loveseat, Dean beside him in an armchair. Ms. Miller pours coffee gently into a couple of little white mugs, she hands one to each of us, “It was wonderful of you to stop by. The support of the church means so much right now.”

“Of course. After all, we are all God’s children,” Dean replies smoothly, taking a sip of the black coffee. She stands up taking the coffee pot with her. Dean takes that opportunity to shove a bunch of cocktail sausages into his mouth, he was really taking advantage of her leaving food out on a little platter. “What?” he asks with a mouthful of food, responding to his brothers staring. “Just…tone it down a little bit, Father,” he responds.

Ms. Miller returns then, emptyhanded, she sits back down. Dean swallows his mouth full of food before talking again, “So Ms. Miller, did your husband have a history of depression?”

“Nothing like that,” she answers her eyes already tearing up, “We had our ups and downs like everyone but we were happy,” the tears run rapidly down her face, “I just don’t understand…how Jim could do something like this.”

“I’m so sorry you had to find him like that,” Sam replies sincerely. She wipes her tear-stained face, gesturing behind her, “Actually, our son Max, he was the one who found him.”

“Do you mind if maybe, I go talk to him?” Sam asks. 

“Oh thank you, Father,” she musters a sad smile. He rises, following the direction she pointed. 

“Ms.Miller you have a lovely home. How long have you lived here?” Dean inquires.

“We moved in about five years ago,” she answers. 

“The only problem with these old homes, ‘bet it gives you all kinds of headaches,” he comments. Her face washes over in confusion, “Like what?”

“Well, weird leaks, electrical shortages, odd settling noises at night,” he lists, “That kind of thing.”

She shakes her head, “No, nothing like that. It’s been perfect.”

“Huh,” Dean hums, “May I use your restroom?”

“Oh sure, it’s just up the stairs,” she says. He nods, rising and taking another cocktail sausage before leaving. Now I was left to fend for myself in a social situation I wasn't totally prepared for. What do I say? “Is there anything I could do for you that might make you feel better? I understand how hard it is now.”

She tears up again, “I don’t know.” I lean over placing a gentle hand on her arm, “It’s okay…it’s okay," I say softly.

I enter the boy's motel room, following Sam. We had just come back from researching about the Miller’s house. I close and lock the door behind me, so grateful that I had been out of that nun outfit for more than an hour. “What do you have?” Dean asks, his entire arsenal spread out around him as he sits on the edge of the bed cleaning a gun. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as he works the weapons, I have to force my gaze away. Men should not be allowed to look good doing random tasks, it wasn’t fair.

“A whole lotta nothing. Nothing bad has happened in the Miller house since it was built,” Sam answers sinking onto his bed. 

“What about the land?” Dean questions further.

“Nope,” I say, “There were no battles or graveyards, it’s not tribal land and no kind of atrocities happened on or near the property.”

“Hey man I told you, I searched that house up and down. No cold spots, sulfer scent. Nada,” Dean adds.

“And the family said everything was normal?” Sam checks.

“Well, if there was a demon or poltergeist in there you think somebody would have noticed something? I used the inferred thermal scanner man, and there was nothing,” Dean answers.

I sigh moving to sit at the end of Sam's bed, “Back to square one.”

“So what, you think Jim Miller killed himself and my dream was just some sorta freakish coincidence?” Sam questions.

“I dunno,” Dean answers truthfully, “I’m pretty sure there’s nothing supernatural about that house.”

Sam gets a pained look in his eyes, bringing his hand up to rub his temples, “Yeah. Well, maybe it has nothing to do with the house,” he inhales sharply holding his head, “Maybe it’s just…Gosh,” he clutches his head, “... Maybe its connected to Jim in some other way?”

“Sammy you okay?” I ask, placing a careful hand on his bicep just as Dean says, “What’s wrong with you?” I throw him a sharp glare, way to word it. Sam makes strained pained noises, sinking to the floor, “My head.”

Dean practically jumps from his bed, “Sam? Hey,” he sinks right next to his brother in a crouch grabbing Sam’s arms, “Hey! What’s going on? Talk to me.”

I stand up concern running through my blood, “Sam! Come on!” I've never seen something like this before, it was completely foreign which only made it more terrifying. Dean throws a pleading look at me and I stand not knowing what to do, “I-I don’t know, I’m sorry.” He turns back to his brother, not saying anything as he holds on to him. 

Then, Sam slowly removes his hands from his head, focusing back on reality as he warns, “It’s happening again. Something’s gunna kill Roger Miller.”

My leg bounces in the back seat. once more we were running against an invisible and unknown clock, running to save someone with little to no information given. And once more Sams is on the phone trying to get information quickly that will help us, “Roger Miller. Uh no no, just the address, please. Ok, thanks.” He goes quiet with the information before hanging up and reciting it, “450 West Grove, Apartment 1120.”

“You ok?” Dean asks, eyeing his brother in quick succession.

“Yeah,” he answers in the least convincing tone possible.

“If you’re gunna hurl I’ll pull the car over you know, cause the upholstery…” Dean says, not really joking.

“I’m fine,” Sam answers still not convincingly enough.

“Alright,” Dean shrugs, dropping it.

“Just drive,” he says, looking away. He sighs, “Look, I’m scared, alright? These nightmares weren’t bad enough, now I’m seeing things when I’m awake? And it’s painful.” 

“Come on man, you’ll be all right. It’ll be fine,” Dean comforts in his own way. I wet my lips, choosing my words carefully, “Whatever these abilities are, they’re advancing which is why it’s breaching into day. And because it's leaning more toward psychic abilities it takes a great amount of will, and concentration, and puts a horrible strain on your mind which is why it's painful. But the more you work on it the better it’ll be.”

He turns around in the passenger seat, facing me, “You have telekinesis, right?” I nod, his eyebrows scrunch together, “It hurt when you were first started?”

“God, yes,” I laugh bittersweet, “It just requires so much focus, more so at first, that I had headaches constantly. I tried not to use too much Advil, but they were definitely making a profit off of me, that’s for sure.” He seems to consider the information, turning back in his seat, “Then what is it about the Millers? Why am I connected to them, why am I watching them die? Why the hell is this happening to me?!”

“I don’t know Sam but we’ll figure it out,” Dean answers, “We’ve faced the unexplainable every day. This is just another thing.”

Sam shakes his head, “No. It’s never been us. It’s never been in the family like this. Tell the truth, you can’t tell me this doesn’t freak you out, Dean.”

Dean looks straight out the windshield silently, he couldn’t lie because Sam and I both witnessed him freak out before over it. Of course, then we’d all been younger, and he lashed out at me and when he left he hadn’t talked to me or apologized for months, I think it was about five. These sorts of things do freak him out, and sometimes I think the things I’m capable of doing still scare him sometimes, and that's just with someone he's friends with. With his brother, that fear must be a million times worse. “This doesn’t freak me out,” he finally says, lying. 

****

The Impala pulls up across the street from Roger, who approaches his apartment's entrance with a bag of groceries in his hands. Sam rolls down the window swiftly yelling for the man, “Hey Roger.” The man turns around, the annoyance on his face clear as day, “What are you guys, missionaries? Leave me alone.”

I lean over rolling down the window opposite of where I sit, “Sir this has nothing to do with religion! Trust me.”

“Please,” Sam adds. But Roger is already gone, walking closer to his building. Suddenly the car jerks into motion the engine gunning as it makes a quick turn around, and with a bump Dean jumps the curve hurriedly parking as Sam jumps out running after the man, “Hey. Roger. We’re trying to help! Please! Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.”

I get out of the vehicle, round the black car, and head to Sam’s side, Dean following. As Sam reaches the entrance, Roger closes the door behind him, “I don’t want your help.” He walks deeper into the building and in a last-ditch effort Sam yells, “We’re not priests or nuns, you gotta listen to us!”

“Roger, you’re in danger!” Dean yells after him. But of course he doesn't hear them or if he does he just ignores the warnings. God people are so stubborn. “Come on,” Dean suddenly says looking towards a back entrance, he leads the way as we run around the corner of the building to the back entrance, a door in the way. With a quick look around Dean steps back and kicks it open, the door bursts open with a crack. 

Sam jumps for the bottom ladder of the fire escape, using his tall frame to easily reach it, he pulls himself up and starts running for the stairs. Dean turns to me offering me a cupped hand, “You comin’?” he asks. I shake my head, pushing strands of hair behind my ear, “No you go, there isn't enough room for the three of us on that thing, you go. I’ll keep watch. He needs you.”

He looks me over, before nodding and jumping for the ladder, catching up to his brother swiftly. Against my better judgment instead of keeping watch, I look up at them, a hand blocking the sun as they make it up to the second floor. Then all of a sudden there's a heavy squeak and slide of a window followed by a wet squelching noise. Sam freezes, Dean sprints past him and stops looking down at something I can’t see from down here but even so, I know it is Roger’s severed head. 

****

“I’m telling you there was nothing there. No signs either, just like the Miller’s house,” Dean informs, once more the three of us in the car this time driving back to the motel. Sam squints his eyes, slightly, in focus, “I saw something, in the vision, Like a dark shape. Something was…something was stalking Roger.”

“Whatever it was, are you sure it’s not connected to their house?” Dean asks, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. 

“You know that argument doesn't really hold up anymore considering Roger died in his apartment,” I answer fidgeting with my fingers, “So it could be the family itself.”

“So you think, like a vengeful spirit?” Sam questions.

“Well yeah,” Dean responds, “There’s a few that have been known to latch onto families, follow them for years.”

“Angiak. Banshees,” Sam lists out examples.

“Wouldn’t you have still picked up on something when you were snooping around?” I ask this time, looking up from my hands. “No, I was thinking somethin’ more like a curse,” Dean explains, “Maybe Roger and Jim Miller got involved in something heavy, something curse-worthy.”

Sam hums, adding to the working theory, “And now the something is out for revenge. And the men in their family are dying…Hey, you think Max is danger?”

“Let’s figure it out before he is,” Dean remarks. Sam sighs, “Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people.”

“What’s that?” Dean asks.

“Both our families are cursed,” Sam says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. I frown, one because he feels that way and two because I dislike when people say that. Dean huffs, “Our family’s not cursed! We just…had our dark spots…”

“Our dark spots are…pretty dark,” Sam nods slowly. Dean eyes him, “You’re….dark.”

I scuff, “Well as dark as it was you don’t have to worry, curses aren’t real.”

Sam turns around in his seat, facing me, “You’re a witch and you don’t believe in curses?”

I tilt my head giving him a ‘really?’ look, “That’s not what I meant, of course those kinds of curses exist they are very real and palpable things,” I wet my lips, “What I meant is that this curse you suggest to be the reason why you suffered misfortune isn’t real and that goes for everybody. Bad things just happen. And I know you probably weren’t being too literal but still blaming bad things on curses doesn’t help you in the long run it just serves as an excuse for you not to face your problems and acknowledge the real issue.”

Sam looks at me with slightly wide eyes and when I look at Dean, his expression is more or less the same if not even more, “What?” I ask eyeing the two of them. Sam turns back around in his seat a small smirk on his face, Dean gives a little shrug, “Nothin’, just someone’s using their psychology degree.”

I snort, suddenly getting shy, “Shut up,” I mumble. The thing was I wasn’t using my psychology degree this was just me, not that I was embarrassed by my degree. I took education very seriously, especially college. So of course I wound up double majoring, one in criminal justice and the other in psychology, but could you blame a girl? Either way, I didn't like when people said things like that, blaming something on a force they didn’t understand and had no real play in any of it.

I pull down the sleeves of the black Nun dress, readjusting the material, “I hope you know this is another book,” I say closing the car door behind me. Dean seems to round the Impala quicker at that, “What?! No, that wasn’t part of the deal.”

I purse my lips, “Yes, but when we made that deal it was under the presumption that it would only happen once in this case. And yet, here we are again.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something more but his brother cuts him off, “Wait, you guys made a deal?”

I smile triumphantly, “Yup!”

Sam frowns a little pout to his lips, his puppy-dog eyes turned down, “Man,” he whines, “I should’ve made a deal.”

“You should’ve,” I respond, thinking for a moment, “You know what? I will extend my second book to you, you are now included!”

He shakes his head, “No Y/N it's okay, have your books.”

Now I shake my head, “No no I want to, nothing would bring me more joy than the three of us going to a bookstore, and while Dean impatiently waits for us and grumbles to himself we get to wreak havoc and choose books!” Sam smiles with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “That does sound like a good idea.”

“You’re an evil woman,” Dean grumbles.

I smile sweetly at him, “I prefer ‘wicked’ but I guess that’s close enough.”

He eyes me for a beat, tongue against cheek as if he is contemplating saying something but ultimately he looks away, “We’re meant to be checking in on Max.”

Oh, “Yeah,” I say leading the way. “See, this always happens,” he states, reaching my side in one stride.

“What happens?” Sam asks.

“Whenever you two are together we get nothing done,” he elaborates. I fake a hurt gasp, “That’s so not true!” I mean we could be annoying, sure, but that was our whole job especially since we’re younger siblings it’s just how it works. 

We reach the door and he knocks before anyone can say anything more on the topic. Instead of Ms. Miller answering the door her son, Max, does. He opens the door wider, “My Mom’s resting, she’s pretty wrecked.”

“Of course,” Dean nods, stepping deeper into the house.

“All these people kept coming with like, casseroles?” Max says, making small talk, “I finally had to tell them all to go away. You know 'cause nothing says I’m sorry like a tuna casserole.” I bite back my laugh, very poorly, he caught it giving a smile back to me and Sam who was also grinning at the joke. Max gestures to the seating area his mom put us just earlier today, and just like then we all take the same seats, but this time it's Max in front of us. 

A beat of silence goes on before Sam sighs, speaking softly he asks, “How ‘you holding up?”

His face drops a little, answering with a small, “Ok.”

“You’re Dad and your uncle were close,” Sam follows up, stating instead of asking.

He shrugs, “Yeah, I guess. I mean, they were brothers. They used to hang out all the time when I was little.”

“But not much lately?” Sam asks.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…” he shifts in his seat, “We used to be neighbors when I was a kid before we lived across town in this house. Uncle Roger lived next door, so he was over all the time.” 

“Right. So how was it in that house when you were a kid?” Sam questions further. 

“It was fine. Why?” Max answers, dismissively. He was uncomfortable, something about that old house made him uneasy. 

“All good memories? Do you remember anything unusual? Something involving your father and your uncle maybe?” Dean asks this time, skepticism written in his voice. Max shakes his head, slight panic crawling in his irises, “What do yo…..why do you ask?”

I recognized that panic. Knew it well. I remember wearing it, how it crawled over my skin. “Don’t worry it’s just a question,” I nod, noting his behavior.

“No, there was nothing. We were totally normal. Happy,” he replies suddenly more sure of his answer.

“Good. That’s good,” Dean answers, “Well, you must be exhausted. We should take off.”

Catching on Sam nods, “Right,” he looks back at Max, “thanks.”

Max eyes us, something between panic and questioning, “Yeah.”

****

We make it to the Imapla before debriefing, the panic in his eyes burning into my retinas. 

“No one’s family is totally normal and happy,” Dean starts, pointing out the faults of Max’s response, “See when he was talking about his old house?”

“He sounded scared,” Sam answers sadly.

A chill runs up my spine, “More than that, he was petrified. And I don’t think it has anything to do with the house…”

“Yeah, Max isn’t telling us everything,” Dean agrees, “I say we go find the old neighborhood, find out what life was really like for the Millers.”

I shift my footing, fixing my pants (which I was glad to be in again) as I watch the older man named Rob in front of us. “Have you lived in the neighborhood very long?” Sam asks him.

“Yeah, almost 20 years now. It’s nice and quiet. Why, you looking to buy,” he answers and I can’t tell if he wants us to be interested or wishes to keep out outsiders. Maybe the earlier, he seems kind.

“No, no,” Sam smiles, “Actually, we were wondering if you might recall a family that used to live right across the street I believe.”

“Yeah, the Millers. They had a little boy called Max,” Dean adds.

“Yeah I remember,” he responds, “The brother had the place next door. So, uh, what’s this about, is that poor kid ok?” That makes me stumble over my thoughts, “He….um, I’m sorry why did you word it like that?”

Rob frowns, “Well in my life I’ve never seen a child treated like that. I mean I’d hear Mr. Miller yelling and throwing things clear across the street, he was a mean drunk.” My skin curls up, my fears confirmed. My heart recoils, cowering away from the information and the thoughts. “He used to beat the tar outta Max. Bruises. Broke his arm two times that I know of,” Rob continued. 

I take a subconscious step backward. I don’t understand, if he knew why didn’t he do anything? Why didn’t he call the police?

“This was going on regularly?” Sam asks, his voice firm.

“Practically every day. In fact that thug brother of his was just as likely to take a swing at the boy but the worst part was the sepmother. She’d just stand there, checked out, not lifting a finger to protect him. I must have called the police seven or eight times. Never did any good.”

I suddenly feel nauseous. He was finally free now but that was too many years too late.

“Now you said stepmother,” Dean says for confirmation. How could he not be reacting to this information?

“I think his real mother died. Some sorta…accident. Car accident I think,” Rob answers.

Suddenly Sam clutches his head again, grimacing. Rob looks at him strangely, “Are you okay there?”

He winces, “Uh, yeah.” Dean holds the crook of his brother's arm, leading him away as he throws back a “Thanks for your time.”

I blink out of what feels like a daze, mustering a smile for the man, “Have a nice day,” I say before catching up to the boys. But my feet feel heavy, as if cylinder blocks had been tied to my ankles. My intestines seem to twist itself into a knot, wrapped around like a bow. I clutch my shirt where my stomach is, my heart seems to beat faster an unnerving feeling settling itself into the vessels. I could hardly focus on my tense body and anxious thoughts when Sam’s head lulls back, his eyes doing that thing where you can tell he isn’t here with us right now. He’s somewhere else, having a vision.

****

I want to curl into myself and shy away from the current case. But we were in the Impala driving back to the Millers house and Sam still had to tell us about his vision. “Max is doing it. Everything I’ve been seeing,” Sam reveals. I should be surprised but I’m not, maybe it’s because of the newfound information.

“You sure about this?” Dean asks, almost skeptical. 

“Yeah, I saw him,” he confirms.

“How is he doing it?” I ask carefully. 

“I think telekinesis,” Sam answers. 

“What so he’s psychic?” Dean questions, definitely skeptical.

“I didn’t even realize it but this whole time, he was there. He was outside the garage when his Dad died, he was in the apartment when his Uncle died,” Sam elaborates, “These visions, this whole time–I wasn’t connecting to the Millers, I was connecting to Max! The thing is I don't get why, man. I guess—because we’re so alike?”

“What are you talking about? The dude’s nothing like you,” Dean responds firmly.

“Well,” Sam tries to reason, “We both have psychic abilities, we both…”

“Both what? Sam, Max is a monster, he’s already killed two people, now he’s gunning for a third,” Dean exclaims. This was all getting very complicated very fast. “He’s not a monster he’s a kid. It isn’t his fault, he’s a product of his messed up childhood,” I defend, my voice filled with perhaps a little too much emotion.

“With what he went through, the beatings, to want revenge on those people? I’m sorry, man, I hate to say it, but it’s not that insane,” Sam adds, agreeing. I nod vigorously, it isn’t insane, not one bit.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t justify murdering your entire family!” Dean yells, his voice louder than needed.

“No of course not. But clearly, no one else was caring about him. No one made any effort to help him, not even the police! So you must understand why he felt like he needed to take justice into his own hands,” I argue. This was complicated, this was human. And humans, human feelings get messy very quickly.

“You're suggesting he's a necessary evil?” Dean counters, his voice gruff and on edge.

“Maybe, yeah,” I answer, crossing my arms across my chest. The car jerked right, driving up to the curb in front of the Miller’s house. “He’s no different from anything else we’ve hunted, all right? We gotta end him,” Dean lectured.

“We’re not going to kill Max,” Sam and I say at the same time, our voices overlapping. “He’s a kid!” I add.

“Then what?” Dean counters, “Hand him over to the cops and say ‘Lock him up officer; he kills with the power of his mind.’” 

I huff, “That’s not the point and you know it. We can talk him down, he isn’t a monster and I highly doubt he would kill just for fun. He’s angry and he’s hurt, he needs help. If we do that then we are just as bad as his uncle and his dad and the cops that refused to help.”

He shuts the engine off, pursing his lips and shaking his head, “All right fine. But I’m not letting him hurt anybody else.” Yet, despite his words he leans over to the glove compartment and pulls out a pistol. He glares at Sam as he gets out of the car. I catch his eyes, “Dean.” He looks at me, challenging me, before ultimately getting out and tucking the gun into the back of his pants. I roll my eyes, tongue in cheek, pissed. I get out of the car, joining the boys but not before slamming the car door behind me.

We run up the porch, Sam in the lead. He knocks on the door, and when no response comes he leans over the railing peeking in the window. He looks back at us and he does not have to say anything for us to know what was happening. Max was going to kill his Stepmother.

Without thinking any further, Dean raises his leg to kick the door in. I stop him, “Dude way to be inconspicuous. Let me.” He backs up a few steps, hands raised in defeat. I grasp the cold knob of the door, not needing to put much effort into getting the door unlocked. We rush into the kitchen, where Sam said Max would do it. Ms. Miller presses her back closer against the counters, her eyes wide and filled with tears and fear as she watches her son in front of her. Her eyes snap to us, “Fathers? Sister?” Ironically enough, we weren’t dressed up instead in normal clothes which I wasn’t sure if priests and nuns ever did. Max spins around, poorly concealing the large knife behind his back, his hair is a mess and his eyes match his stepmothers in fear after all he was caught. “What are you doing here?” he asks, afraid.

“Uhh, sorry to interrupt,” Dean answers awkwardly. 

“Max, can we, uh, can we talk to you outside for just one second?” Sam leads, fumbling for an excuse. He eyes us, he doesn’t trust us, “About what?”

“It’s….it’s private. I wouldn’t want to bother your mother with it,” Sam lies, “We won’t be long at all though, I promise” he says directing it to Ms.Miller. Max looks back at his stepmom and then at us, “Ok.”

“Great,” Sam smiles. 

We turn to leave, making it out of the kitchen and to the front door. Dean takes the lead with his hand grasping the doorknob, pulling it open he smiles back at Max awkwardly. Then all of a sudden the doorknob is pulled from his grasp and the door slams shut, followed by the dropping of all the blinds for each window. Impressive. I turn around swiftly watching Max as he backs up, “You’re not priests! Or a nun,” he yells. 

Dean draws his gun quickly, but without even moving a muscle Max uses his powers to pull the gun away, it slides across the floor and he crouches down to take it. He stands up tall, pointing the gun at us. Dean nudges me slightly behind him, I want to shove my way in front of him but he holds his arm out in front of me and I don’t feel the need to argue now of all times. Ms.Miller appears in the archway between where we are and the kitchen, “Max, what’s happening?”

“Shut up,” he bites.

“What are you doing?” she repeats, approaching carefully. Removing one hand from the gun he swings his arm towards her, using his power to send her flying back into the kitchen, she hits her head against the kitchen bench before sliding down to the floor. “I said shut up!” he yells at her unconscious figure. 

“Max calm down,” Sam says steadily, holding his hands up in defeat. 

“Who are you?” Max snaps.

“We just wanna talk,” Sam responds with instead. Max scuffs, “Yeah right, that’s right you bought this!” he motions with the weapon. Sam takes a careful step forward, “That was a mistake, all right? So was lying about who we were. But no more lying Max, okay? Just please, just hear me out.”

He eyes us carefully, “About what?”

“I saw you do it,” Sam explains, carefully, “I saw you kill your Dad and your Uncle before it happened.”

“What?” Max questions.

“I’m having visions Max, about you,” Sam elaborates.

“You’re crazy,” Maxx huffs.

“So what, you weren’t gonna launch a knife at your stepmom?” He challenges, taping his eye, “Right here? Is it that hard to believe Max, look what you can do. Max I was drawn here, all right? I think I’m here to help you.”

His hold on the gun tightens as fresh tears run down his face rapidly, “No one can help me.”

“That’s not true,” I say softly, “I know it feels that way now, and I’m sorry it does. But if anyone can help,” I look at Sam, “It’s him,” I look back at Max, “Please.”

Sam nods, wetting his lips, “Let me try. We’ll just talk, me and you. We’ll get Dean, Y/N, and Alice out of here.”

“Uh-huh. No way,” Dean intervenes. The chandelier above us rattles, “Nobody leaves this house!” Max yells. I want to cut in, I could contain him in a matter of seconds a minute at best. He was skilled, but I certainly knew more than he did. Yet I know I can’t do anything, he’s scared so rushing him with my abilities won’t help. Treating him like a monster won’t help. 

“And nobody has to, all right? They’ll just…they’ll just go upstairs,” Sam reasons, but the light fixture continues to rattle.

“Sam, I’m not leaving you alone with him,” Dean mutters.

“Yes, you are,” Sam answers firmly, “Look, Max. You’re in charge here, all right, we know that. No one's going to do anything that you don’t want to do but I’m talking five minutes here man.”

“Sam!” Dean intervenes again. I place a hand on his upper arm, gaining his attention fast and without words, not wanting to scare Max off, I give him a look and a nod silently telling him that his brother will be okay and that he can handle himself. His lip twitches as if he’s fitting off a scowl.

“Five minutes?” Max asks, the chandelier stops shaking, “Go” he nods to his stepmother.

I walk carefully behind Dean, waiting for him as he picks up Ms. Miller, I lead the way up the wooden stairs entering the master bedroom. Dean lays her down carefully, and I find the bathroom attached to the room. I quickly go through the drawers finding a small washcloth, carefully I wet it and ring it out before walking back into the bedroom to find Dean pacing the room, hand by his face. I approach him carefully, he stops his pacing when I step in front of him but worry is written clearly in his eyes, and in the way he hasn’t stopped biting his thumbs nailbed, a habit he exhibited only when he was worried about Sammy. 

I raise my free hand to him, pulling it away from his mouth, “He’ll be okay, he knows what he's doing.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything as he takes the washcloth from me before moving past me, he crouches in front of Ms.Miller, lightly pressing the cloth to the small wound on her forehead. He was distracting himself.

I frown. It’s not that he doesn’t believe in his brother, he was just worried. For as much as this was for Sam it was nearly too much for Dean too, he might not be going through it but he was watching someone else navigate the messy plains of powers and the pain that came with it…that was scary. Especially since Dean has always taken his job as an older brother very seriously, doing anything and everything for him no matter the cost, he was meant to be his protector but with these newfound abilities Dean didn’t know how to help, how to protect his little brother– and that scared him.

I cross my arms across my chest, trying to think of what to say when I hear movement heading towards us. I turn towards the door, it creaks open slowly, Max’s figure standing right at the doorway the gun clutched in his hand at his side. I give him a questioning look, but his face is determined and there’s no Sam.

There’s no Sam.

Panic settles in my veins and before I can react Dean is standing in front of me, pushing me further behind him before he takes purposeful steps towards Max. The door slams shut and suddenly Dean goes flying left, barreling into the wall. Oh, two can play that game.

“Max!” Ms.Miller yells from behind me, having woken up in the short time her son arrived. Max points the gun at me with shaky hands, “Move,” he commands. I bring my powers forward, flicking it on, “Do you want to try?” I warn bitterly. He laughs, shaking, “Do you think you’re like me too?”

I assume Sam must have said something about that to him downstairs, “No,” I answer softly. He raises his other hand at me, flicking it to the left trying to send me flying too but I don’t budge. He looks confused and tries again but once more I don’t move. “Max please just put the gun down, this isn’t the way, I promise you,” I reason.

“You don’t get it!” he yells, shaking. I smile at him sadly, holding up my hands in defeat, “Dad drinks and he gets mean,” I say, “You think he doesn’t mean it, he’s just grieving. But it happens one too many times and you get scared.”

His resolve weakens and tears run down his face, “Your Dad?” He isn’t sure whether he should believe me or if I'm just lying to talk him down. I take a quick look over at Dean, who still lies on the floor looking at me with eyes wide, I never told him and I don’t think he ever knew.

I look back at Max, “Yes. My brother took most of it for me, but I reminded him too much of my mother and she was gone while I lived and that was not fair,” I swallow roughly, “I didn’t think he was capable. My mom loved him and he was never like that when she was around, but they did always say she softened him so maybe that’s why.”

“What did you do?” he asks, lowering the gun just a little. I go quiet and he does not like that, he raises the gun again, “Did you kill him?!” he screams.

I shake my head, “No. He managed that all by himself, he grew very careless.”

His eyes scrunch together in confusion, “Did you want to?”

I shake my head again, “No, I didn’t want to be like him. Didn’t want to stoop to his level. My brother though…he, um, I think he wanted to. But he didn’t. When he died, I didn’t cry at his funeral, I wasn’t as sad as I knew I should’ve been, and that alone makes me feel so guilty…” I take a careful deep breath trying to blink away the tears, “Please put the gun down, I know you're angry, you have every right to be. And I know you’re scared but doing this. It won’t help.”

“How do you know!” he screams, his face red, but it comes out weak.

“He’s dead and I’m still scared sometimes,” I admit out loud for the first time, tears slipping down my cheeks as my powers revert to it’s resting stage, “I think I hear his voice or that I see him in a crowd, and I know it’s not really him. But my heart picks up and I think he’s there, and I know what that means and I get scared.”

He looks at me, really looks at me and it is like looking in a mirror, our pain reflecting in each other. He lets go of the gun, but it doesn’t hit the floor instead it floats in front of him, “I’m not you, I won’t sit back and take it. She has to die, they all had to.”

His words feel like a stab to my hurt but I ignore them, “No, Max, please. It won’t help.” I don’t look away from him but even so, I hear Dean standing up and I can feel him getting closer. He puts himself in front of me again, I try to get him behind me, a gun wouldn’t exactly kill me, but he looks down at me his green eyes hard. He moves me behind him, looking back at Max, “You wanna kill her you gotta go through me first.” 

“Fine,” he says. Just as the door busts open, Sam comes barreling in, “No don’t! Don’t! Please. Please,” Sam begs, “Max. Max. We can help you. All right.”

I move away from Dean despite the arm that he holds out to stop me from getting closer. Max is shaking, and sweaty, and tears run down his face rapidly. He looks at Sam with anguish, then his gaze turns to me eyes filled with a familiar pain. But his shoulders suddenly drop, and his face clears, “You’re right. It won’t stop.”

The floating gun points at himself. A loud bang rings in the room. Bits of blood splatter on my face. His body crumbles to the floor, a hole in his head.

I stare blankly at a spot on the floor, a small swirl in the wooden floors. Sirens whirl just outside, and cops stand all around us. His body was brought out in a bag. Yellow caution tape sections off parts of the house. Something light was placed in my hand, something to clean the…

Muffled voices sing near me.

He’s dead. I couldn’t convince him, if anything I made it worse. I should’ve said it gets better because it does and it’s not that common that I get scared, I can’t. Not with this job. But I didn’t want to lie and I made it worse.

I feel sick. 

I couldn’t help.

He didn’t want to be like me. He’s dead.

He didn’t want to be like me and I didn’t want to be my father and he’s dead. They are both dead and I live.

I live and Dad would say it’s not fair. He’s dead. 

A familiar hand nudges me forward, I walk automatically without hearing the voices. Something about…

He’s dead.

The car door opens and I sit inside, automatically putting the seat belt on. Someone says something and the door closes, voices say something outside, and then doors open and close. The car moves forward, the sirens get further away. Eyes look at me and I look at him.

His body falls to the floor a hole in his head.

His body floats away as it burns like a Viking. He hugs me closer to him and we do not cry. We are free sometimes.

His body falls to the floor a hole in his head.

He said it won't stop and there’s a bang.

[powpowd]

HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII, can I request a poly sbg x fem gyaru reader who gets bullied by Barron and his friends? (Angst but a very fluffy ending) :3

ARGH !! I’ve seen you requesting and I like this request <3 I’ll try my best, I’m gonna keep it simple but I hope you like it ❤️☺️

Tw: physical and verbal bullying, it’s nothing crazy though 🤓

You had always been expressive. Since you were young you had always liked to dress and act any way you liked. In middle school you dressed scene and now that your in high school you’ve decided to expire ment with Gyaru and let’s say your attached to the style.

You’d never think of giving it up but lately it hasn’t been easy keeping the cute look up. A couple of jocks have been bothering you. It’s just been some cruel words but your scared it’s gonna get to something more.

They’ve embarrassed you several times, you’ve mellowed down your outfits because of that. Mostly keeping the look. You don’t want them to think they’ve got the best of you. Your makeup and hairstyles haven’t changed at all but your outfits are less vibrant.

“Look at you.” You hear from behind you. You push your lips together. You don’t wanna look behind you, the classroom is pretty much empty and the class door is wide open. School is over, and your the last kid wandering. Atleast you thought.

You hear giggles behind you, you don’t turn to look, you don’t wanna see their ugly faces.

“Look at me, cmon you can do it.” He taunts you, you turn your attention to him, growing irritated. “I knew you could do it, cake face.” You sigh, your makeup is smooth as fuck and you know it but you can’t help but feel a little insecure.

You grab your things, you bag is cute and all but it’s not cheering you up. You throw your bag over your shoulder to leave before your pulled back harshly. You don’t fall, but you stammer.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You scream angrily, clenching your teeth together. Barron looks at you, a little shocked but his face quickly changes to some twisted amusement his friends and him laugh at you. You feel so embarrassed and encased in this situation.

“What are you three doing?” You hear from the door. Tyler, you’ve never spoken to him before. You think you have one of your classes with him but you can’t remember, “your supposed to be outside practicing with us Barron.” Barron looks at Tyler and sighs, rolling his eyes. His attention goes back to you before smiling.

“Whatever.” You’d smile back if you didn’t knew he was taunting you. You look at Tyler. You rub your arm. Barron and his goons have left and it’s just you two.

“Thanks.” You say before rushing out quickly, that was humiliating.

—

The next day it’s nice outside. You can’t help but think of the utter embarrassment you’ve felt all day. Your on the bus, no seats are open and you look like a lost dog. You hear someone pat their seat, you look over to a cute red headed girl. She doesn’t seem particularly fond of sharing her seat but she does it anyway.

You sit down and take off your bag, you put it at your feet quietly, you take up as little space as possible.

“Hi, I’m Aiden what’s your name?” A boy behinds you says excitedly, you gasp silently. He scared you a bit! You look back at him.

“Hey, I’m (name).” You say timidly, you didn’t have a lot of friends since Barron kept messing with you, others don’t wanna be involved. Aiden smiles, just a little wider.

“I like your hair clip!” He says pointing at it, you smile, you see the girl next to you look over at you, you look at her. Her freckles are incredibly charming. She nods at you quietly before going back to whatever she was doing. A boy next to Aiden just waved before sitting back down.

You fix your bedazzled Jean shorts and cardagain before smiling at your shoes.

“Thanks man.” You say, you fiddle with it a bit. The bus comes to a stop and everyone starts loading off, you grab your bag and rush off.

—

Home room was fairly boring, you shared a home room with Barron so him throwing paper at your carefully sculpted pigtails was the only entertainment you had. Why did he bully like a Disney character?

The paper balls were really heavy though, when you picked one up off your lap you opened it and there was a flipping eraser in it. You squeezed the eraser.

“(Name), pay attention please sweetheart.” You teacher says, you look up. She’s going over todays schedule since the classes will be switched up a bit. You nod, she was really sweet so you couldn’t ever be mad at her.

Bam. Straight to the side of your face. A thick ass eraser too. A couple kids look back at you holding your cheek and frown. They can’t do anything.

Once class ended you slowly left, you waited for most people to leave before your teacher stops you. She asked if you were okay and you give her a half assed answer, she asked because you looked tired? How silly.

Once you were out in the hallway you contemplated in skipping, your next class was fairly boring. You sighed and decided to. You walked to the least popular bathroom, and threw your stuff in the stall.

Your only in there for couple minutes before a girl comes in to use it. Except she doesn’t, she knocks on the stall.

“Hey, is (name) in there?” She asks, her voice is kind. You clench your jaw.

“Yeah..” you stand up and open the stall. You look at her.

It was Taylor, you’ve spoke to her once or twice. She looks at you, a little concerned.

“Are you skipping? I’ve never seen you skip before!” She jokes before continuing. “I just wanted to ask if you were okay. I’ve seen Barron.. well I’ve heard he was being a jerk to you.” You clench your hands together.

“Ugh, yeah. I have this class with him so I just skipped.” You say, you fiddle with bracelet. She frowns.

“Let me know if he tries to pull anything else, okay?” She says, smiling, she wasn’t looking at you with pity but with sympathy. You nod your head.

“Yeah, I will, thanks!” You smile fondly at her. “Well, I’m just gonna go sit in this stall now for another thirty minutes.” She giggles before waving you goodbye and leaving.

—

It had been a couple weeks since the encounter and you were in the back of the school. Once again school had ended, this time you had stayed after for art club. You were gonna take the city bus home. It was raining but you had a umbrella. Suddenly your falling and you fall into a puddle, wrecking your cute outfit. You look up and see your umbrella several feet away from you, before it’s picked up by someone. Barron. You close your eyes and feel like your about to cry, this is way to stressful. You look at your tights and skirt and frown before you start just sobbing. A full on mental breakdown.

At first their laughing before you start screaming Bloody Mary. Then their gasping.

“Shut the hell up! Someone’s gonna-“ before one of Barrons goons can finish, he’s hitting to hard grassy floor. Another one runs off before Barron starts running too. You look up and see several people. This is so dumb is all you can think. Looking at your shoes. Your so mad so so mad.

“Hey, are you.. are you okay?” Taylor say, she’s so sweet. She helps you up and picks some mud out your hair. You look at her before drying your face and clearing your voice.

“Uh yeah, I’m fine.” You say, pulling a little lays bit of mud out of your now messy hair. You feel someone tap your shoulder. Aiden.

“We should probably go inside.” Ashlyn says, the freckles girl with the long braids. You remember her. You all walk inside quietly. You look at your watch.

“They took your umbrella.” Tyler says annoyed, “I didn’t know they liked sailor moon.” He says referring to your themed umbrella, you laugh a bit at his remark.

Ashlyn told you you should probably go wash the mud off your face. You nod before going to the school bathroom. You pull out your gym clothes, just some simple black shorts with a corny shirt. They got cleaned yesterday and you haven’t used them so you just put them on. You wash the mud off your face, sadly that means you have to take your makeup off. Your okay with it, as long as your not being bullied in the rain.

You take out your hair, that proved difficult cause of the hairspray but you did it. You quickly threw it in a low ponytail before leaving the bathroom. Taylor waves you over, the Logan kid next to to her.

Aiden and Ben wave aswell. You walk over.

“Hey, just wanna say thanks.” You pull your bangs behind your ears. They all nod.

“Those guys are pains, aren’t they?” Aiden says, he still has that funky grin on, it suits him well.

“Yeah! They ruined my favorite tank top.” You mutter our. Ashlyn looks at you.

Tyler speaks up. “Let us know if they keep picking on you.” You get a sense of deja bud before you feel someone hug you.

Taylor. “I’m so glad your okay, I was worried they were gonna do something like that!” She rambles with a pouty face, “I’ve never seen you without your gyaru makeup, your cute with it and without it.”

You smile brightly. “You know what gyaru is!?” You say, your pretty shocked.

“Yeah, I started researching it after our talk two weeks ago!” You smile, no one’s ever taken interest in your style with you.

Suddenly everyone’s asking you questions, and you feel flustered. You’ve never felt such joy, you feel appreciated. Cared for even, you blush at all the attention.

“Oh! Yeah, gyaru can just be a style and it comes from many Asian country’s, there’s different kinds too!!” You answer another question. Ashlyn asked this one, she seemed more interested in the background information of it.

It felt like hours where you guys just talked but it was just a couple minutes. Eventually you all had to go home but it was such a humanizing experience.

You look through your phone, looking at the photos you took with the group while you guys walked around the school. You smile and fiddle with your hair.

For the first time in a long time you were excited to go to school the next day.

Jeez!! I hope you liked this! It’s my first time receiving a request ❤️‼️ thank you for requesting I’m really great full! I hope you like it and have a good day. :3

[freestyle-crocodile-trashpile]

Love?

[A/N:ngl guys, I'm still on episode 12]

Summary:Yuji asked you on a date! Yet you can't wrap your head around why he would

Type:Scenario:Angst:Yuji Itadori X Ftm!reader

Version:JJk

⚠️WARNING! Mentions of depression, anxiety, and eating disorder!⚠️

~

"Hey! Y/n, um...what if, we, go out? Like a date! Just the two of us?"

Those words repeat in your mind over and over, blankly staring at the mirror as his words repeat again. Yuji Itadori, a boy at your school, the same boy you like, the same boy who you admired, and stared at, and was happy around, and...the boy who asked you out. But why? Your poor mind couldn't figure out why. He didn't like you, he's never even looked at you. It's a setup. He wouldn't like you. You're just some boy, but can you truly be called a boy? Of course, you see yourself as a boy! But does Itadori? Does he know he's asking out a boy? You're not one of those pretty girls. you're not the skinny blonde with large assets. You're not the girl he has as his background, or the girl he talks to, or the girl he listens to every day.

Staring at a mirror doesn't help.

Your eyes land on your mother's makeup, your eyes go to the sink than to yourself again.

"He...he thinks I'm a girl...he wants a girl..."

Your hands grab the makeup and carefully put it on. Your sister has taught you, to make you more of a woman. To feel like a girl. Your hands shake as the coldness of the makeup touches your face. After a while it's done. You don't like it.

"..."

Your silence makes your mind swirl, why did you have to be feminine for him?

He only sees you as a girl.

You slowly walk to your room, you need a dress. Your closest was empty, filled with nothing but a single outfit. Your school uniform. Looking behind you, the pile of clothes mocks you, the face laughing at your struggles. Even when you leave the room, you can hear its mockery. Your sister has clothes.

Your head peeks into her empty room. She's out for collage. She won't mind. Your hands shake once more as they search her outfit, pulling out a black dress, and you instantly put it back. To revealing. Then, a dress that was a cute brown one, it was perfect! Once it was one you patted it down, making sure it fit before standing in the middle of the room. It felt disgusting to wear.

"Its cold outside...

You walked to her dresser, getting some legging and picking one of her flat black shoes. Your hands grasped the dress as you made eye contact with yourself in her mirror. That wasn't you...you weren't a girl. Would Itadori like it? Would he hate it? What if he did see you as a boy? Would he be disappointed and not want to go out anymore?

"..."

Your eyes trail down to your chest, suddenly feeling uncomfortable at the sight of your own body. Why...Why did you have them? It was unnecessary, men don't have breasts, why did you?

"...he'll be here soon"

You walked out of your sisters room and back to yours, your phone was ringing.

"Hello?"

It was Itadori.

"Yeah...I'll be out in a second,"

You stood there for a moment, staring at your messy bed. Where you ready? With a shaky sigh you walked outside. Itadori was at the door. He stared at you for a moment, looking you up and down with a blank expression.

You eyed him nervously, did he not likeit? Should you change? He didn't like it. He didn't see you as a girl. No like this. You miss read him, he doesn't like it. He doesn't like the dress. He doesn't like the make up. He doesn't like you.

"You look nice, here, these are for you."

What?

Flowers. A beautiful bouquet of colorful flowers. Your eyes widened, the sun shining perfectly into your eyes to make them shine. Itadori smiled.

"For...me?"

You breath hitched, reaching out to grab the flowers. A small smile spreads on your face as you hold them.

"I...I think I have a vase? Yeah, you can come inside and wait while I get it."

Itadori followed you inside, looking around happily. As you got a vase, Itadori saw your room, eyes narrowing slightly as he peeked inside. He noticed the pills, and his eyes widened. Was that yours? You froze as you saw him looking at the mess that you call yours. A small cough got his attention.

"That...that's my sister's room, she's at collage right now, so is...a mess"

Itadori nodded, closing the door and smiling at you.

"Oh, what's her major?"

You can't remember. She didn't tell you. No one told you anything. Your eyes moved to her 'room' thinking before looking back at him.

"...Um...art."

Itadori nodded, glancing at the door before gesturing back at the front door. You gave him a smile back and walked out. Did he believe it? Did he think your a lair? Does he like you? No. He's just mocking you.

"How do you feel about horror? There's a new horror movie that came out and I've been dying to see it!"

He looked over at you. His smile so bright it looked fake. Yet he looked so excited to see this movie, just like when you agreed to go out with him. Or when he talked to one of his friends.

"Yeah...that's fine,"

He looked so happy. How does he do it? You leaned back in the seat, staring down at your hands. With a shaky sigh, you tugged the dress down, looking out the window to not remind yourself that he only saw you as a girl. The drive was quiet. He didn't even turn on music! Weird...

The theaters was big, you weren't use to it. Walking behind him slowly you wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly moving them away when your fingers touch the ribs along your skin, a silent reminder. Itadori grasped your hand, pulling you into the theater gently. His hands were so warm.

"Your cold, do you want my jacket? It's kinda chilly"

Itadori tugged your hand into his pocket after a moment of silence, giving you a small smile as he caressed your knuckles with his thumb. Your eyes stayed on his feet, matching his steps so you don't stumble into him. He kept you grounded. Even if that meant having to watch him walk for you to walk. When he stopped and got some popcorn you denied, he liked confused before his face lit up.

"Oh! Do you wanna be like one of those cute couples that share a drink and popcorn?"

No. That's not it. But he seemed so happy at the though he giggled and tugged you along after giving you the drink. He must be happy to not have to spend more money on you. You followed behind him with hurried steps, he was so fast it made your calves ache. Your mind suddenly zoned in on the feeling of his hand, it was bigger, stronger, healthier...it felt wrong to hold it. Shouldn't he be holding someone else's hand? Someone...healthier? Someone who didn't lie to him? Someone who was a true girl...

"..."

Itadori pulled you into the middle row of the seat, going on and on about the movie and how the seats were perfect. He was so happy. He was happy because he can finally watch the movie. Not you. He'd be happier if he was on a date with a pretty girl, of the girl he stares at, the girl who's on his background, the girl he'd talk about, the girl who's music ge listens to. A girl. He'd be happier with a girl.

"..."

Your body turned to the screen, watching it go by as if he was just a flap book. Your eyes looked down to your legs, your body suddenly getting hot and your breath picking up. Itadori was silent, only the sounds of him eating popcorn could be heard. You slowly stood up.

"I'm going to the bathroom..."

Your voice shook and trembled. Itadori gave you a thumbs up. Your feet almost tripped over each other as you rushed to the bathroom. Your body practically slammed into the bathroom. Your body slammed against the door, staring at yourself in the mirror. Suddenly, everything freezes. Your eyes shake as you stare at yourself, slowly pushing yourself off the door and walking towards the mirror. The longer you stared, the more your breathing picked up. Time seemed to freeze as a tear ran down your cheek.

"..."

Your hand reached up, wiping away the tear as you turned around.

"Itadori...he's waiting for me"

Your turned around and left the bathroom, not looking at the people you wake by. When you sat next to Itadori he looked over at you shocked. Panic filled you again as he stared at you.

"I thought you left me, glad you came back"

Your heart sank, had he noticed? Had he cared? He didn't care, he was just making you feel bad.

"Sorry, Itadori...I...I had some stomach problems"

Itadori giggled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, tugging you close.

"Call me, Yuji."

He gave you a large smile that seemed to clear your mind from doubts. Cleaning it out. With a slow nod you smiled, hesitantly leaning into his touch.

"Yuji..."

He glanced at you with a smile. The movie went by quickly, but your mind was occupied with Yujis touch. It filled you with euphoria. You can enjoy this.

When the movie ended, your heart sank. It meant you'd have to go home to go away from Yuji once more. He drove you home, chatting the whole way there. He wouldn't stop. He was so happy. You couldn't help the adoring look on your face as you listened to him. The small on your face felt foreign. It's been so long that your face ached for another smile. Yuji was quiet as he pulled into your drive way, looking over at you.

"We should do this again some time, I feel like there's so much more to you. Your a mystery to me,"

Was that a problem? Should you have been more open? The worry on your face much have been noticable as he suddenly looked panicked and his hands flew up.

"I-I love mysteries! That's what I do!"

Your let out a small sigh of relief, giving him an awkward smile.

"Oh...right,"

You could see how Yuji felt bad, he bit his cheeks, you could see it. He rubbed his face, thinking for a moment before looking down.

"sorry...I didn't mean to upset you,"

Your eyes widened, gulped quietly as you nodded. Keeping your hands in your lap. He looked at you again, giving a small smile. You got out of the car, walking around. Before you got to your steps he peeked his head out of the window.

"Hey! If...if you do think we can do another date could I...possibly get a kiss?"

The look on your face made him wave his hands again out of panic.

"L-Like on the cheek! Nothing to much..."

Really? He wanted a kiss from you? No, he just wanted to be able to tell his friends he had a kiss. Walking over to him you hesitanted before leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. He stared at you, face growing bright red before he smiled brightly and returned the kiss. It was your turn to blush as his lips brushed against yours, he didn't seem to notice he kissed your mouth instead of your cheek. Right? He wouldn't want to kiss you. Gulping you gave a small smile and stepped away. Your hands shook as you unlocked your front door.

"...maybe...maybe he does like me"

Maybe you just missed he glances he gave you, maybe you just missed when he'd look over to see if your looking, maybe you missed when he'd stare as you walked by. Maybe...maybe he did like you, maybe he truly sees you as boy.

"..."

That's foolish.

~

[A/n:Juicy was my background sound to this. I don't know what possed me to write this. I hope you enjoyed]

[yutxsgf]

Some Hawks fluff because he's such a dork.

Hawks catches Reader sobbing over some low-level punk partner.

Cw; fluff, Hawks x Reader, light hurt & comfort, GN!Reader

Every flash of that vivid fight is what keeps your tears fresh and flowing, slipping down your slightly chubby cheeks as you curl up deeper into the couch you've practically grown into.

It's been about 3 days since you've last seen the sunlight, depression hitting you like a bus after being dumped by someone who you thought was the love of your life. Yikes, never making that mistake again, huh?

The bags under your eyes more vibrant and visible than ever, the small cartons and plates of fast food places from whenever you would starve yourself to the point you were so hungry you were tempted to eat yourself.

To put it simply, everything went to shit for you. And you honestly couldn't care about anything right now, even the soft glow of your phone and the constant buzzing of notifications vibrating your coffee table.

All you wanted to do was mope, cry, mope some more, cry some more, sob, eat if really necessary, cr—

SLAM!

"Y/n!?"

You flinched at the sound of a familiar voice, one you didn't expect to hear at all at a time like this. You slowly pulled the blanket just below your eyes to make sure it was the person you were thinking of.

And sure enough, red apple colored wings along with a small flurry of feathers immediately captured your attention from across the living room.

"Hawks..?"

His head immediately snaps towards you before he came rushing to your slump figure on the couch.

"Y/n, are you okay? What happened? Why aren't you answering any of my texts?" The hero panicked, placing a hand just on your jawline, gently leading you up to look at him.

"Slow down." You mumble, yawning before slowly and reluctantly getting up from your dent in the sofa.

"Sorry, okay.. What's going on baby bird..?"

"Nothing."

"You know I know what you mean when you say that, c'mon now, I know you better than that songbird."

You grumble quietly before sighing and finally looking into his golden-brown eyes.

"They dumped me."

"What?"

"They dumped me."

He froze, simply zoning out before a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes took over his concerned expression.

He quickly shook his head before the frown reappeared. He hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat and sitting beside you to your left on the sofa with a small grunt.

"I know it hurts, but if I'm being honest about this, as a hero, and as your friend, you seriously shouldn't be doing this to yourself." He lightly scolded before fluttering his wings and wrapping one around your side.

You huffed, yanking your blanket from underneath him. "Not as easy as you think, playboy."

"Hey, I've quit my ways a long time ago." He quipped back, sending a feather to grab your blanket and pin it against the wall nearby.

You gaped before glaring up at him and reluctantly getting up to chase after your blanket.

"Ah, where do you think you're going?" He hummed before pinning your shirt to the sofa with another carmine feather.

You pointed to the blanket, and he chuckled before using his wing to pull you closer, unwinding your shirt in the process. "Listen, how about instead of you moping here, we go out for a little fly and get some fresh fried chicken."

"Do we have to?"

"Yes."

"Fine."

He silently cheered, pumping his fist down in front of him with a grin. When you gave him a look he cleared his throat and sat up straighter.

"Alright, I'll be a second, I need to do something real quick. Go on and get dressed, baby bird. I'll come get you in 15."

You couldn't help the smile on your face before you nodded and hopped up off the couch for the first time in 7 hours.

A giggle erupted from your lips when Hawks sent a feather to tickle you as a soft see you later. One last playful glare at him and you're off.

And that's when his expression darkened.

"Now, where does that bastard live."

[anna-hawk]

Just hold on

Frank Castle x Reader // SFW // drabble // Angst

When Frank walked into the apartment, he found you leaning against the kitchen counter and looking out the window across from you. He could only see your profile but it was enough for him to know that you weren't actually seeing anything and just staring into nothingness.

With a small, sad sigh, Frank shut the door and slowly closed the distance between the two of you. He came to a stop a few feet away from where you were standing.

“Hey,” he said softly, while carefully reaching for your hand in order to not startle you in case you hadn't noticed him come in.

Your fingers instinctively linked with his, but you didn't look at him at first as you whispered a small greeting back, only glancing at him after another second. The tiny half smile you gave him didn't cover the raw emotions shining in your eyes. Frank's throat tightened at the sight and he wished, not for the first time, that he could simply take it all away.

“Tell me what to do,” he pleaded, but he hadn't finished talking before you were turning towards him and wrapping your arms around his middle.

His arms immediately moved around you as well, pulling you in as tightly as you were holding onto him.

“I gotcha,” he rasped into your hair, as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. “I gotcha ya, sweetheart.”

He kept up the soothing shushing noises as he brushed a gentle hand over your head, while you finally allowed yourself to let go.

After a while, in which you'd remained quiet, Frank could feel your exhaustion as you sagged against him, your body crashing from the overwhelming release of emotions. He gently guided you to the bedroom, and after removing his boots, Frank laid down so you were face to face. He stretched his arm out for you to lie on and silently requested you to curl up against him. You instantly did so, your fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt as you began playing with it absentmindedly. Frank watched you quietly as he debated on what to do or say.

“Curtis got a service dog for one of the guys at the VA,” Frank started in a soft tone, waiting for your reaction.

He knew that you wouldn't want to talk. Not about what was going on or just in general, but he figured that you might like the distraction if he talked. He smiled tenderly as you lifted your eyes to meet his gaze before you dropped it again, waiting.

“Should've seen her. Some kinda Labrador mix, I think,” Frank continued, staring over your head as he pictured the day's events. His hand returned to drifting over your hair and back, his touch light and rhythmic.

Frank kept talking about the dog, his voice a deep rumble, until you fell asleep. His eyes stroked over your face as you slept. He was relieved by your expression, which was finally more relaxed than it had been in a long time.

There wasn't much he could do, but if the only thing he could do for you was to hold you like this, he would stay like this for as long as you needed.

[pocketmania]

🎨🔫☁️ ❤️‍🩹👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

Hey. Im Kirbop.

I would like to request some Marie x Reader stuff.

i have been struggling severely with my self image and feelings of not being good enough along with depressive slumps, something to help with those would be wonderful. If its not too much to ask.

Hi kirbop! I'm so sorry all of that's happening to you. But, I hope you know that you are good enough, even if it doesn't feel like it. You are just as capable and amazing as the next person, and I'm so proud of you for making it this far. And, as always, it's never a burden to ask for anything.

Now onto the thingy

‧₊˚✧[ The Love You

Receive ]✧˚₊‧

(🎨🔫☁️❤️‍🩹👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨) - splatoon comfort

(reader type) - gender neutral /

androgynous

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

- - - - - - -

To put it plainly, you felt like shit.

You were currently rotting away in bed, lying on your side and swaddled in your blankets, facing the wall. You knew everyone thought you were worthless. You knew everyone would throw you away the given the chance.

You couldn't stand looking at the person you saw in the mirror. You couldn't think anything positive of them, either.

Just then, you felt a hand caress your shoulder. You turned your head and saw Marie standing over you. "Hey, you okay over here?"

You didn't want to be a burden. So you lied.

"I'm fine, yeah." you mumbled, plastering a fake smile onto your tired face. Unfortunately, for you, she saw right through your little facade. She gave your shoulder another little rub and squeeze.

"Be honest with me," she said to you as she said down next to you. "Are you feeling okay? You can tell me anything, y'know." You felt guilty for lying, so you eventually spat out the truth.

"... Do you regret meeting me?" You finally asked, turning your upper body to face her. Her expression softened, and she sat next to you, letting go of your shoulder.

"Of course not. What makes you think that?" She asked, glancing at you. You didn't feel like sharing all your thoughts, so you cut your explanation short.

You sighed and stared at the wall. ".. I just feel like I'm not good enough. Like I'm worthless.. I know that you pity me." All Marie did was stare ahead and nod. You knew it probably annoyed her a lot when you were like this. You couldn't help it, but you wished you could-

"You're very wrong about that last statement." She turned to face you as she talked. "I will never pity you. I am and always will be very proud of you. You are capable."

You looked over to her. "And I mean that with all of my heart. You are the light of my life. I'm glad I have you." You began to tear up and give a small smile. You wiped away your tears with the covers.

You came out of your little blanket ball to give Marie a tight hug. You began to sob and say things like, "I'm just worried you'll leave," to which she responded with things like, "And you know I won't". It continued until you were reduced to just crying.

"You don't know how much that means to me." You finally said in between your cries. She dug your face into her neck crevice and nodded. She held the back of your head and scratched at your scalp with one arm. The other was wrapped around your waist to secure you.

You were still kinda iffy about your feelings and hers, but if what she said was true, then you could rest easier at night. Because you could rest easier together.

- - - - - - -

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

[prettygirl-gabi]

Darl+ling You

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: Fluff, mention of lung surgery, hospital, care giving (mainly from S.coups), recovery, mention of 2521 ( a realistic k-drama that broke me to pieces) Happy ending I swear!!

Category:F/M

Fandom: Seventeen (SVT) (boyband)

Relationships: !Idol-boyfriend S.coups x !f non-idol reader

Summary: You are going through something that is going to be very life changing for you and S.coups, but you try to keep pushing for him, yourself and everyone else.

P.s. this is based off my current experience with being sick, and I just wanted to write about it with one of my comfort idols. S.coups, but mainly all of svt, and a few more kpop groups and idols have been keeping me out of a dark place since I've been diagnosed with my chronic histoplasmosis disease in my left lung.

ScScScScScScScScScScScScScScSc

As you lay in your hospital bed, weak and vulnerable after the lung surgery, S.Coups never left your side. He held your hand tightly, providing comfort through his mere presence when he could be there.

"Hey babe, how are you feeling?" S.coups said as he gently brush your wild hair out of the way. You smile softly, yet full of pain that can be seen. "Ugh... I'm in pain but having you here makes it bearable."

S.Coups pout slightly as he puts your hair in a silk bonnet that look brand new. "I'm not going anywhere; I'll be right here with you until you're back on your feet."

Throughout your time together at the hospital, S.Coups took on various roles - caregiver, cheerleader, and confidant. He made sure you, his darling Y/n followed all medical instructions while also showering you with love and affection.

"Ya, Y/n don't forget to take your medication on time; it will help speed up your recovery." He says in a soft tone as he breaks your pill in half so it'll be easier for you to swallow.

You roll your eyes at him with a cheesy grin on your face. "I hate taking pills... but if it means getting better sooner so we can go on that vacation we planned... I maybe can make an exception."

"Exactly! We have so many adventures waiting for us once you're fully recovered... plus I owe you front row seats to our concert that's coming to town soon, and the boys really want to see you." He stated as he sat one the recliner that was in your room.

Slowly as the weeks progressed with you getting better the conversations were filled with laughter, and light banter as you reminisced about past memories; plus shared dreams for the future. You loved how he found a way to take time off... to fly to the hospital that you had surgery at during his busy schedule all for you.

One evening while watching Twenty-five, Twenty-one together; your eyes filled with tears as you thought about the uncertainty of her condition.

Pausing the show, you sit up with tears in your eyes. "What if something goes wrong, Seungcheol?" You asked as you look at the wires and medical machines you were hooked to.. trying to contain the tears that weren't fully out of your eyes. "What...what if it comes back but worse like the doctor said it would if they didn't... they didn't get it all out of me."

S.Coups quckily shushed you and pull you closer into his body as he laid in the hospital bed with you. "Hey, hey, hey darling..don't think like that. You're strong, and we'll get through this together. I love you... Y/n my sweet darling, and I made a promise to you when we made us official, baby. Thorough thick and thin, me and you til the end... princess."

You sighed as you look in his eyes for any tells of him lying to you, but giving in once he kisses the tip of your nose. "I love you too, and I thank you for all that you have done for me while being a busy man for yourself." You say as you try to catch your breath once again for the 3rd time that day.

He just shushed you once more in a caring yet loving way, and turned Twenty-five, Twenty-one back on. "Let's focus on Na Hee-do and Baek Yi-jin for now, yeah." He stated as he wiped your tears and kissed your left temple.

S.Coups' unwavering support and reassuring words provided you with the strength to face your fears head-on. As days turned into weeks, the growth of your health gradually improved, thanks to S.Coups' constant care and encouragement... even with his busy schedule as an idol.

Finally, the day arrived when you were discharged from the hospital. S.Coups couldn't hide his excitement as he helped you and your mom who was also taking rotation shifts with him pack your belongings.

S.Coups pushes you in the wheelchair to the car as he thinks about what he is planning to feed you when your mom isn't feeding you what she has cooked with love for you. "No more hospital food! We can finally enjoy your favorite homemade meals again."

You shook your head with a chuckle as you both reach the car. "And no more uncomfortable beds! I can't wait to sleep in my old yet still cozy bed." You state as you get in your moms freshly cleaned car to head to your childhood home to recover properly, and safely.

You and S.Coups knew that your love had triumphed over adversity, and so much more. The both of you were ready to face whatever challenges life threw your way, knowing that together the both of you could conquer anything, especially with the love, and care you had for each other.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

Thank you for reading! 🩵🩶

-Mrs.Cody-Song

[asimpforthe80s]

Her cries broke me like I've never been broken before☆•*°`~♡

Billy Hargrove moodboard :>

[chaoticfandomgirly]

My little cousin brother just destroyed a copy of a children's book I owned that I never would have read again (probably) but I still held onto it for nostalgia. I am overcome with anger and sadness. I want to throttle the little rascal but at the same time being the eldest is making me reign in my emotions and be the mature one in the situation.

What should I do? My heart is so heavy.

[powpowd]

Euphoricly Gone.

You feel empty, you are empty. You’ve always been empty. Nothing and I mean nothing has ever made you feel fulfilled. Maybe the childhood birthday parties you’ve had and the cute games you’ve played with your friends sparked something but now.. now that doesn’t matter.

You’ve done it again, you went back to the one thing you’ve quit. It took only a couple weeks for it to crawl back into your life and slither down your throat and make you feel again.

You know it was wrong, your parents would probably go crazy if they found out you were taking those drugs again. You didn’t care, it made you nervous of course but there was to much going on to even care that much.

Your tired, so so tired. You have a lot of energy at the same time, everyone doesn’t seem to notice your state.

‘Thank god.’ Is what you would think of your mind was running straight. You looked at Taylor, she looked so happy. She’s chatting with Logan, Ashlyn is sitting by them, listening to the conversation quietly. Aiden yapping to her, she’s not really listening but she has a vague idea of what he’s speaking of.

Tyler’s right next to you, you don’t really talk to him, sadly. Ben is next to you, but closer to Taylor, your all in a small circle. At a park, on a nice blanket.

You feel guilty, but so light on your feet. Your happy, but you know it’s temporary.

“(Name)? (Name)? Are you okay? You’ve kinda just been staring off into the distance.” Taylor looks at you kinda worried, you smile lightly.

“Yeah.. I’m good.” You talk pretty slow, you smile again. Tapping your foot and look at everyone else. They’ve directed there attention to you for minute.

“I’m just chilling.” You make a thumbs up. You laugh a little, they all look content at that answer. Maybe your just crazy, maybe there actually worried and your convincing yourself that there content.

“Are you sure?” Logan pipes in quietly. You look at him sternly but kindly. “You do look a little.. off.” You frown.

You stick out your tounge jokingly. “Yeah, hello!! It’s me, I’m like super awesome and cool.” You joke, your not horrendously high or anything.

Everyone just goes silent and suddenly it’s like the conversation never happened and there conversing again. Tyler stares at you a little longer before sighing and going back to what he was doing. Which was nothing.

your phone rings.

Ding, ding, ding.

You breath in at the loud sounds, the group goes silent.

“Shit, sorry guys! I’m gonna go.. uhh,” you stare at the contact. It’s your older sister. You blink groggily and sigh. You stand up and walk away as far as possibly without leaving the park. Which isn’t far cause the park is small.

“You need to come home.” She says on the other line. Why? “Please, mom and dad said so.” She’s lying.

“Dad and mom aren’t home for another week.” You say, she sighs and ramble a little bit before you tell her your not leaving and hang up. You sit back down and fiddle with your hair. Shit. You feel around your pocket. Where did your baggy go? You had your shit in there. Where did it go?

You bite your lip, you can’t even ask the group. You feel around your pockets one more time and sigh. It’s not there. That stuff was expensive. You payed for that and now it’s gone. It wasn’t anything crazy but it was something to help your through the next WEEK of school and all these Fuck ads teachers.

You look at the group before looking down. What if they found it? It didn’t really have your name on it or anything so they wouldn’t know it’s yours but it’s scary.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna go.” You say aloud, everyone looks at you again. This time it makes you feel anxious.

“I thought you said you’d stay this time?” Aiden says questionably. He’s not budgy about it, just upset. You can’t tell.

Tyler speaks up, “Everytime we make plans to hangout you cancel or leave during it. It hasn’t even been 2 hours.” He’s right, you do do this. You shrug.

“Just been busy lately.” He doesn’t buy your shit but that doesn’t matter. “Sorry?” You say and smile. “My sister called and-“ a loud sigh interrupts you.

“What’s your problem?” You say looking at Tyler. He looks at you innocently.

“What do you mean?” He mocks a expression of innocences, clearly sarcastic.

“Your acting like I want to leave early. I don’t.” You say. You frown again. “I’m leaving, bye everyone.” You left, quick and swiftly.

You didn’t want to leave. After you left you felt content and comfortable.

Back at the park the group continued, a little bummed you left but all the same.

“What’s that?” Ashlyn says quietly, not to loud but not meekly. Everyone looks at a baggy on the ground. Right by Tyler.

“Is that yours Tyler?” Logan asks, Ben looks over to Tyler aswell. Tyler shakes his head.

“It’s (names), I saw her drop it.” He says, dryly.

[tojbnuy]

boyfriend!toji who doesn’t know why but he feels this weird jealousy everytime he sees you meet your friends and greet them all with a big hug. you never did that with him. you relationship was still fairly new to the both of you, but you kissed you fucked you even held hands sometimes when walking around. but, what toji was now realizing, was that he wanted a hug. well, he wanted a hug from You. not a casual little hug, a hug. holding each other. he didn’t know how to broach the subject without sounding needy and like the complete opposite of how he usually acts. he had never cared about this kinda stuff with other people, he’d never experienced it growing up and he thought he could live without it. until you. until you showed him that wanting to be held was normal. he’d been thinking about it for a while until one night, as the two of you got ready for bed it simply slipped out.

‘how come you don’t hug me?’

immediately you stopped plaiting your hair and turned to him with a shocked look.

‘what?’

‘how come you don’t hug me? like when you see your friends or you say bye you hug them. you don’t hug me.’

as soon as he said it he felt stupid. a grown man like him, older than you and he was sat here asking for a fucking hug. what if you turned the question around and said ‘well you don’t hug me’ what would he say? that i’ve never done that before sorry i don’t know how? his thoughts came to a stop when he felt a small hand grab his own larger one.

‘i- toji im so sorry. i’m sorry i didn’t think that was something you wanted.’

fuck now he’s made you feel bad.

‘nah doll you don’t have to say sorry, its nothing let’s just go to bed’

‘no toji please. let’s talk about it.’

you lifted the blanket and made your way over to his side of the bed so you could sit face to face. everything about you was so soft, so kind. such a complete contrast to himself. he was panicking, he didn’t do stuff like this, never talked about stuff like this.

‘honestly toji, i really just thought you weren’t a touchy person. i’m sorry for just assuming especially considering everything you’ve been through,’

‘no please doll. i wasn’t trying to blame you for anything. i just’

his palms were actually sweating, but your face. god your darling sweet face, looking at him like he hung up the stars in sky. like every word out of his mouth meant the world to you. you would wait for him to get the words out no matter how long he took.

‘i don’t know to be honest. you’re right i’m not a touchy person i’ve never really hugged anyone. but i want that. with you. and im sorry, i should be the one to initiate it i just didn’t really know how doll.’ his voice was so quiet, just a rough whisper.

he looked up to stare into your glassy eyes when you leaned in and kissed him. a small whisper of a kiss.

‘can i hug you?’ you said with your lips pressed against his.

he knew you knew he would prefer not to dwell on it.

and then he wrapped his arms around your back so tightly like he was showing the universe just how bad he needed you. he pulled you into his lap and let his cheek fall to your shoulder. he felt your arms wrap around his neck and you fingers stroking the hairs at his nape.

neither of you spoke, you simply sat and held each other and made a silent promise to maintain the closeness from today onwards.

‘thank you for telling me toji. you big baby.’

‘yeah that’s enough. time for bed.’

your giggle was music to his ears.

[screampied]

you always had a bad habit of falling asleep—not just anywhere though, but on sukuna ryōmen’s notorious throne. .

he hated it.

he hated how how you hogged up his space.

he hated how your near-quiet snores would echo through his poorly aged walls.

most importantly though, he hated how frustratingly cute you looked . . all scrunched up, curled up in a ball, and occasionally shivering a bit from the cool air that settled against your bare skin.

“tch..” he’d sigh, feeling his muscles ache with each step he took toward you. as usual, sukuna had just returned from some battle and here you were, always waiting for him to return. he’s probably told you over about a hundred times that you could have slept in his private chambers but no—you always preferred his throne. always.

you never told him, but part of the reason why you loved sleeping on it was because of his strong scent that always lingered on the piece of ancient furniture. a musky scent that you’d grow to always miss whenever he wasn’t with you.

“oi. you awake?” sukuna grumbles, and you shift a bit once he lifts you. you could hear him murmuring vexed curses under his breath as he positioned you to lean up a certain way. crimson-velvet eyes bore into your sleeping state and sukuna held back a snickering smile. “pft. ‘course not,” and you felt him starting to trod away with you snugly cradled in his broad arms. as sukuna made his way upstairs, he softly strokes a thumb underneath your nape. “brat. sleep in my bed next time. you’re gonna get back aches at this rate.”

despite his cold-hearted, rough exterior he was always gentle with you. only you. just you.

sukuna carried you in his arms like every other night—sometimes, he wonders if you do this on purpose. purposely falling asleep on his throne just so he could pick you up bridal style, bringing you back to his bed.

each step he took shook your entire body, and you let off a groan in your sleep from the abrupt bumps. “i know. i know little one. just a few more steps.” he rolls his eyes, secretly finding your slumbering state adorable. never in a million years would he ever admit it though.

as the wooden stairs creak—he continues to walk, occasionally looking down at you. right as he’s at the final groaning step, sukuna tenses a bit, feeling your head brush up against his soft exposed pecs.

his fleecy kimono was half open and you’re just buried in his arms, snuggling all against him like a needy cat.

the audacity. .

his pink slit brow furrows as he scoffs at the sight, bringing you inside his quiet spacious bedroom. gently, he starts to lie you down on the mattress but that’s when your arms wrap around him.

“eh? what are you-” sukuna grunts, and that’s when he collapses right against your chest. sukuna deadpans once your warm legs and arms sneakily snake around him—clinging onto him tight like a koala. “keh.. such a handsy pest, even when you’re dead asleep.” he clicks his tongue, letting you drag him further into the bed with you.

sukuna feels a strange feeling pooling near the very bottom depths of his heart.

it’s eerily strange . .

it doesn’t feel like the usual resentment, hatred, or even arrogance he feels toward others ‘below him’.

he finds himself melting into your tender touch, his chin gradually burying itself in your shoulder.

the soreness in his muscles started to subside as he was just on top of you—inhaling your sweet scent, stubbornly grumbling swears in your neck.

sukuna was feeling . . . soft.

he was so closely pressed up against you that he could feel the steady racing beats of your heart. each slow-paced ba-dump! that pumped out of your chest quickened by the second.

was . . he the one making your heart race?

sukuna heard how your shallow breaths significantly slowed, and your arms started to tighten more around his thick neck. he didn’t think he’d ever feel like this. whatever… emotion this was.

sure, he’s had to carry you up to his chambers so you’d sleep more comfortably lots of times but this- this moment felt more a bit different.

“i . . can’t sleep like this, y’know,” the demon breaks the silence, huffing at the awkward predicament he was in. sukuna was currently lying on top of you, hovering over you just so he wouldn’t crush your cute human body. with each longing second passing, he could already feel his limbs starting to ache from just idly hanging over you. “at least let me rest near the side.”

no reply.

sukuna scoffs again, realizing he’s practically talking to himself. but instead of responding with actual words—you cling onto him even tighter, your non-verbal way of saying ‘stay.’

“you’re even more annoying when you’re asleep,” he sighs, pinching his forehead. “fine.. i’ll- i’ll stay like this. here, with you. ‘s not like i plan to go anywher—” sukuna gets cut off once he sees you shifting a bit in your sleep again.

the silence was undeniably loud. with his lips mutely parting, he watches as you get more comfortable, letting off a few heavy exhales.

sukuna starts to ponder to himself. you looked so peaceful . . sound asleep.

he wondered what you were dreaming about. he was so busy staring at you while you slept that he didn’t even notice that he was starting to get drowsy himself. sukuna’s eyelids started to droop and he grunted, letting off an obnoxious yawn.

with watery eyes, sukuna stretches his arms before sinking his face back into your left shoulder. your warmth made him quietly purr into your neck. it was faint, but you heard it.

sukuna even mimicked some of your movements from earlier, softly rubbing his forehead against you as you held him close. “huh. this isn’t . . that bad,” he gruffly utters, his gravely voice pitching.

your chin rests on the top of his head, and sukuna gives you one last glance.

“i. . i love you.” he quietly whispers, thinking that just because you were asleep you couldn’t hear.

but- you did, you heard it all. every word.

little did sukuna know, you were actually wide awake the entire time. you woke up when he was carrying you up the stairs, but you just pretended to be asleep from that point up until now.

a small genuine smile curves on both sides of your crooked lips as your eyelids remain closed. in a sweet groggy voice, you instantly replied, “love you too ‘kuna. it’s about time you finally said it.”

sukuna’s eyes widen as his head quickly rises from against your chest. you’re looking down at him with very much open eyes now and the world’s smugest grin.

his cheeks—they’re burning, flushing with a rosy flamed color and you don’t think you’ve ever seen sukuna ryomen more embarrassed.

“you . . you didn’t . . hear that.”

“i definitely heard it.”

“ugh. i hate you.”

“i love youuu.”

“i… love you too, stupid cheeky human. now go back to sleep. hmph.”

[riddhisnook]

When you finish a book and feel like you're going through a breakup... 📚💔

Someone recommend a rebound read ASAP!