#the amount of hurt/comfort gifs I’ll be reading in the coming days

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

Wishing On Golden Stars [1]

Welcome to Teyvat

genre: isekai, slow burn, fluff, hurt/comfort, humor(?)

warning(s)!!!: tenryou samurai being rude lmao (good cop/bad cop situation)

chapter w.count: 4k

a/n: welcome to the first chapter of my isekai, kamisato ayato series! buckle in buckos, it's gonna be a long ride c:

The final chime of the bell attached to the convenience store door rang as the shift lead more than eagerly crossed the room to lock the entrance for the day. Letting out a collective sigh of relief that the day was finally done, you both slump into less-than-ideal postures. You're left leaning over the counter, your company-issued polo feeling way too hot and uncomfortable from the amount of sweat it had soaked up from your last-minute rush of people who just had to wait until almost closing to do their shopping. Popping open a few buttons, you look up to see the shift lead heading back in your direction doing the exact same thing. 

“Thanks again for agreeing for the last minute cover,” the lead, who’s name tag read Max, comes to the counter and turns so his back is against it to lean and soak in the newly acquired quiet of the store. Max was a pretty good guy, taking college courses online on top of working himself to the bone for a company that would probably never remember his name if not for his badge. 

“It’s not like I was busy, so it’s fine,” you reassure. It wasn’t a lie anyway. Genshin had gone down for a 5 hour maintenance that day, and while you could’ve done something else to pass the time like watch a new show or even go out and walk, an extra shift for bringing in money didn’t sound like such a horrible pastime. Straightening out from your slumped over position on the counter, you direct your eyes to the flickering digital clock hanging on the wall that really needs new batteries soon. 

10:07 PM

Perfect. 

“I’ll make sure to have Sam cover for you tomorrow since she was the one who was supposed to work with me today.” Normally, this would be something you turn down since an extra shift would typically push you into overtime, and like it or not, that was more extra moola in your pocket. Still, the facts at hand were that the maintenance was finished and new stories and quests had been added to Genshin. And the kicker? New banners had just begun to run and you hadn’t been saving up for nothing!

“That’d be nice. I have some plans that take place far into tomorrow morning.” 

“Pulling another all-nighter on that one game you play?” 

“Yup,” you ashamedly admit. It wasn’t a secret that a big chunk of your down time went into your games. Why would you feel ashamed about something you like? Be it a game or tv show or anything else. It made you happy so of course, you’d work around it as much as you could. Besides, it wasn’t the only thing you did- you weren’t a complete shut in. It was also the middle of winter, so being outside wasn’t on your agenda. “The servers were down today, but it should be back up now. I’m going to be playing through some new quests.” 

Standing fully up, you stretch and start making your way to the back room where your bag and jacket sit patiently in a locker with your name on it via a tacky store-bought (and customized) magnet. You can hear Max’s footsteps fall in step with your own. You were sure he was eager to get home too. 

In the back, while you both gathered your things, mindless conversation that held no real topics came and went. Asking about how his classes were and if he had a paper due soon that he’d have to rush home and complete. He was more of a social butterfly than you, so he took the reigns on most conversations he found himself involved in. 

“Do you need me to walk you back? You live in a pretty nasty neighborhood don’t you?” 

“Oh, no, don't worry about it. I don't live anywhere sketchy like that.” You chose to leave out the fact that even if you don’t live in a sketched-out part of town, you do have to walk through one to get to your apartment though. If you told Max that, there’s no telling the lecture you’d get as he marches with you back home without argument. Besides, you’ve walked it hundreds of times back and forth already since you moved and got this job… and it wasn’t like you didn’t have pepper spray and a compact stun gun on you anyway. “I’ll see you later, okay?” 

“Be careful!” He calls as you start the normal trek back home. Normally the only weirdo’s out at this time were drunkards you could easily kick in the groin and give a harsh shove into a wall to make a quick getaway. When someone comes rushing around a corner of an alley, you yelp at the sudden appearance. Their shoulder checks into yours and from the sound of their (his?) gasp, he didn’t expect someone to be around the way either. 

Both of you stumble, and you feel him grab your bicep and yank you so you don’t trip off the curb into the road. His fingers catch onto the strap of your bag that rests over your shoulder and in the midst of making sure he wasn’t going to start yanking you around some more, you neglect to see the small object drop easily into the pit of your bag. 

“S̶o̵r̸r̴y̴” he mumbles before he’s rushing off away from the scene. You stand there on the sidewalk for a moment wondering what that was all about and what his deal is. And why his voice sounded so... fake to you.

‘Is it me, or did he sound kinda… weird?’ You stand bewildered for a moment longer before dismissing it all. Thinking about it would only make you nervous, so shaking the thoughts away was the best course of action. You promptly spin on your heel and with a little more speed to your steps, high tail it home. 

Your desk chair never felt more welcoming. You drop your bag on the floor beside your desk and promptly sit yourself down to boot up your computer. The game resources would take a few minutes to download, so while that was running, you rush to get a few snacks and drinks that would make an all-nighter easier to pull off. Shutting off your main light, you flick on the desk lamp you kept beside your monitor. By the time all was said and done, you remembered you should probably text Max that you made it back safely. He would go full ‘big brother’ mode on you if you didn’t. 

Digging around your bag for your phone, you pull it out, and with your action, a small item flings out of your bag with it. Hearing it dully hit the ground, you push your chair back and see a small hard object under your desk. Dragging it closer with your toes, you pick it up and examine it under the desk light. 

“A piece of candy? No, maybe a trinket or… charm? Where did this come from?” Looking around your room, you look to see if maybe this small item- which with its colors of blue and lilac weaved together looked oddly familiar- had fallen off something you forgot you owned. Coming up short with theories on the origin of the piece of (possible) candy or knocked loose charm, you shrug it off and toss it ceremoniously in the trash bin under your desk by your legs. “Whatever,” you roll closer to your desk and after a click of your mouse, that familiar entry door into the game appears and allows you entry. 

Instead of immediately starting to pull on the now-running Kamisato Ayato banner, you decide to knuckle down on some quests and dailies for just a few extra primos to up your chances of that beautiful, easy, golden 5-star man. 

Ayato’s banner was one you have been waiting for. Playing through Inazuma (as painstaking as it could be) and meeting Thoma and Ayaka made you excited to meet the head of the family, Ayaka’s older brother. Playing through his character story, you were happy to see that he was as appealing as you hoped.

A cheeky and clever man who has been through more than his fair share of situations that try to lessen his imposing image. Being able to come up with plans that can not only put him in the place of playing ‘villain’ but also not directly involving himself was appealing. A man with the means to put together such a ploy and solely devote himself to the role- Teyvat better thank its lucky stars that he wasn’t an antagonist. Of course, it helped that he was a looker to boot. An exceedingly beautiful man if you’ve ever seen one. 

“I’m getting him, come hell or high water,” is the mantra you keep repeating as your grind session continues until almost 3 in the morning. Feeling the creeping of about the hundreth yawn in your throat in the last 20 minutes, you lean your elbow on the desk before opening up the Wish menu. Curling your hand, it pushes into your cheek as your eyes droop dangerously close to shut and you yawn... again. 

“Why am I so tired?” You mumble. Normally, pulling all-nighters wasn’t too hard for you. You could usually last until around 6 the next morning on a good day. Maybe work wore you out more than you bargained for since it was an unexpected shift.

You feel yourself slipping further into your palm as your head feels heavier by the second. Your finger clicks for yet another round of 10-pulls. You could hear the sound effects of the transition screen, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pry your eyes open again. A golden color lit up your room behind your eyelids but you were already far past the point of wondering if the five-star screen was always that bright or if maybe your lamp was about to explode from some random burst of overheating- even if it never had any issues before. Nothing else registered in your mind before you were completely falling asleep. 

It was noisy.

Your mind wakes up before your body does, and that is the first thought you have. The noise. It was so loud. Way too loud for your bedroom that you know you just fell asleep in. You were playing your game, so maybe you were hearing in-game sounds and ambiance. Of course, that didn’t explain why you were on your back. 

You could feel the hard surface of the floor against you, and while still only half-conscious at this point, it still crosses your mind on why it didn’t feel like your bedroom floor. It was like planks of wood were digging into your shirt and threatening your skin with splinters like anxious tiny spears against a giant. 

Maybe you had fallen off your chair. If you had though, surely the fall would have woken you up. You weren’t so dead tired from working that you could stay asleep through the tumble of the chair to the floor. Not to mention you must’ve slept through the last few hours of the night because you could feel the sun warming your skin to a near-uncomfortable degree. It almost felt suffocating with the misty humidity hitting your face and assaulting your senses. The sound, feel, smell- all of it felt like you were washed up on some wharf. 

Either you were lucid dreaming, or you had sleptwalked into the bathroom or something where you somehow turned the shower on. 

Still, there was one thing you could try and rule out, and that was the occasional rough prodding of something solid jabbing into you every few seconds. A jab to the shoulder. A jab to your stomach. A jab to your leg. Even a nudge to your head that tossed your forward-facing position onto your cheek and hit that same wooden surface you feel under your back. Then the shouting starts to finally register in your eardrums. 

“..up… ‘ey!” It sounded like a man? What was a man doing in your house? A police officer maybe? But that still didn’t make sense.  For the first time since your consciousness started coming back to you, you groan. Your sideways resting head twitched and somehow you found the strength to swivel it back to face the sky. Eyes wrinkling at the bright sunlight behind your eyelids. 

You feel small vibrations before hearing accompanying footsteps along the floor before another voice starts speaking. It was much closer than the one you could barely make out before. 

“Miss.. ‘ear me… ‘llo?” It was softer, almost nicer to try and listen to. Good cop, bad cop sort of vibe. 

You manage to crack your eyes open for just a moment before the closed-eyed warmth of the sun turns into a blinding flash bang that assaults your retinas. You hiss, chest jumping as your shoulders and arms twitch and tighten. The first signs of movement must’ve startled the people around you since you could feel their rushed steps in startlement through the floor.  Moving your head slowly, you rock it from left to right trying to will a cloud over the sun; or if you were actually in the bathroom, for someone to draw a curtain or something. 

You got your wish of shade when something hovers over your squeezed eyes. When the shade persisted with no signs of slipping away from you, you try once again to crack your eyes open. 

Your vision was blurry. You could barely make out shapes, the world just a blob of converging colors and textures that started to register in your mind like code being processed.  You must’ve hit your head way harder than you thought if you fell off your chair. Groaning was all you could do to communicate how uncomfortable you were in the current moment; that and the small shuffling movements of your limbs you could finally start moving. 

The way the world shifted from blobs to shapes then into objects was astonishingly quicker than you expected and soon enough you were narrowly looking at a face you hadn’t seen before. Though, this stranger’s clothes looked oddly familiar to you. A cone-shaped hat that tied under his chin with a symbol on its front. Dressed in a uniform consisting of shades of dark purples- parts of it almost resembling armor. Laying on the floor- which you now see are planks of wood outside, so more so laying on the ground- next to him was a long spear-like object. 

“Wha…” is all you can articulate at the confusion personified in front of you. The shade you had gained was given graciously by the man beside you lifting his hand to cover your eyes from the sun. 

Your lethargic state was quickly swatted away by a sudden and painful jab to the stomach. Lurching up with a choked ‘Oomph!’, you jump into a coughing fit. Your arms come to fold over your gut as your body positions itself into a semi-half sitting-up angle. One of your arms comes to perch behind your back, holding you up and keeping you from flopping back onto the wooden ground as coughs scratch up your throat. You were parched. 

“What are you doing?!” The man who had been crouching beside you this whole time had not only said a full complete sentence that you could actually understand but had shouted directly next to your ear. His bickering aimed at a man who had the same uniform and weapon as him. The standing guard- Bad Cop you’re guessing- had apparently grown restless and impatient as he lifted his spear and hovered it over your stomach before letting the butt end of it jam you in the gut. Hospitality was in the negatives with Bad Cop. 

You felt Good Cop’s hand come to rest on your shoulder and you instinctively shrug it off. The realization of something being wrong finally starts to dawn on you. Maybe Bad Cop’s little assault was a good wake-up call after all… even if it was a jerk move. 

Eyes wide with a fully functioning brain and processing intuition, you look beyond Good and Bad Cop and all around the area you were in. It was a dock… a port? On the edge of a small little town, there was a starting crowd beyond the wooden dock. Far off to the left up atop a cliff was a statue, one that was carved into the shape of a person, and even farther and higher than that were the beautifully pink and purple sparks of what seemed to be a shrine rising above all else. 

With a yelp of recognition, your legs kick out and scurry your body back until you're dangerously close to toppling into the water at the edge of the dock. 

“No way… there’s no way,” you mutter to yourself. “This has got to be some freaky dream. There’s just no way..!” That was clearly your denial talking. You’ve felt your fair share of pain- although none of it was lasting- to know if that this is a dream you would have woken up well long ago. Bad Cop, with a click of his tongue, stomps towards you and bends to snatch your arm in his palm before yanking. His rude attempts to get you on your feet are met with well-deserved resistance. 

“On your feet! You have some explaining to do!” His voice boomed in your ear like it was bouncing off the ocean waves and back again. “Who are you? Where did you come from!” 

“Let go of me!” His grip wasn’t gentle and you could feel your skin pinching painfully from his grip between his gloves. Since he had at least brought you to your feet, you plant them as firmly as you can into the wood beneath you before yanking back. He must’ve underestimated a washed-up person’s strength because you had ripped free easily, but all that power you put into your backward retreat lands you back on the ground. You hiss as you land on your side and scrape up your elbow. You could feel the burning sensation of broken skin and probable splinters making a new home in your arm. 

You look back up to Bad Cop and your eyes shine with a glossy frustration. 

“I don’t know how I got here! And what’s with your attitude! I’m not telling you anything with the way you’ve treated me- someone who's just as confused as you by the way!” That was a partial lie. In your heart of hearts, you know you’re in Inazuma. You have no idea how or why or what the hell is happening, but you weren’t about to tell him that.  Good Cop- who had been anxiously kneeling with his arm barely outstretched in a poor attempt to mediate? Maybe. At least he was more or less kind. If not a tad whimpy.

“Outsiders are not permitted within the boundaries of Inazuma by demand of the Sakoku Decree! Now, how did you end up here!” 

“I. Don’t. Know.” 

While you and Bad Cop face off in the most pointless round of shouting roulette, there was a buzz circulating from the crowd that had fully gathered to witness the whole debacle. You took no notice of it or the person who had emerged from that buzz to step confidently onto the dock along with the three of you. 

“Ah, good morning!” A bubbly, warm voice breaks the extremely tense atmosphere of the argument between Bad Cop and you. Shattered it so much that you were both rendered speechless for a moment before setting your sights on the newcomer. You choke back a gasp since any form of recognition was strictly off-limits unless you want Bad Cop to pick up on it and thus pick another fight. 

In front of you, behind Good Cop who had finally risen to his feet with a relieved expression, was the ginger haired Thoma. His happy and friendly smile was present on his face like it was natural to break up fights on the street (on the dock?) with his hand raised in a relaxed, quick greeting. The Fixer himself had somehow come to your aid... you hope. 

Being harassed by the Tenryou Commission and having Thoma show up and hopefully save your butt? You’re really getting the Traveler Treatment. 

Thoma struts up to the three of you and claps his hand on the shoulder of Bad Cop, a small signal of ‘back up my friend, let's talk about this’. His quick glance towards you finally makes your shoulders slacken- you weren’t aware of just how tense your body was.  Even your jaw started to ache from all the clenching you were doing. 

“Let’s start from the beginning. Now, what’s the situation?” Bad Cop goes through the trouble of explaining- in his harsh tone- the sequence of events. They had shown up to the harbor for regular routine checks, and had found you unconscious on one of the wooden docks. They had tried waking you up, he leaves out that he had used his spear on your gut, and that when you woke up you started verbally attacking them. 

“Now, hang on!” You almost screech when he finishes his spiel. His glare is overshadowed by the quizzical look of Thoma’s. “I did not ‘verbally attack’ anyone! I'm just as confused as you are and you slammed your stupid little spear into my stomach to wake me up. Remember that? It hurt you know! Of course I’d yell at someone so hostile!” 

As you both started bickering once again, Good Cop anxiously tried to get a single word in, that was always drowned out while Thoma just watched.  He couldn’t see a trace of deception on you; your face was the dictionary definition of confused and scared. Sure, you were full of fire at the moment, but given the opportunity to calm down maybe you’d realize just how you're really feeling instead of being so fired up. So, he saw no reason not to help you. 

“For the time being, why not take them into custody of the Tenryou Commission?” Thoma pitches and your jaw drops in betrayal. Prison? You? Before, you could open your mouth to defend yourself, he starts again. “If they really have no memory of how they got here, then the safest place for them is a monitored location defended by guards. Right?” He looks at you and your jaw shuts with a small clack of teeth. 

“You… might have a point.” A stupidly good point. “Fine,” you relent. There was no point in drawing it out. You really didn’t have anywhere to go, so at least a cell is a roof and protection from the elements. Bad Cop was fighting back a smug smile, you could see it tugging behind his teeth. “I’m not going anywhere with Ba- I mean, this guy though.” You cross your arms adamantly and mutter, “he’s been enough of a pain in more than one way.”

At your attitude, Thoma laughs. Even though it’s amusing, the calming atmosphere doesn’t deter him from the slight trembling of your hand tucked under your crossed arms. 

“Of course. You can have your other Tenryou friend here escort you there,” he gestures to Good Cop and you nod. You can get behind that plan. 

With little conversation left to be had, Bad Cop leaves the dock, Thoma speaks privately to Good Cop for a moment, and then soon you’re ushered off to Tenryou property where you’re expecting to be good friends with iron bars for an unforeseeable, undisclosed amount of time. The small wave Thoma gestures at you to come over has you walking cautiously his way. Once at his side, his back curves down as he cups around his mouth to your ear. 

“Just bare with it. I’ll help you the best I can.” 

He straightens back up and with a pat on the back, sends you off. Your first morning in Teyvat- as absolutely asinine as that sounds- is ending on a pretty low note. Jail time.

|- prev. / INDEX / next ->

a/n: its a slow start but you hAVE to trust me gang

[cowgurrrl]

Hey sweet girl!! I hope you’re having a good day/night!! I saw your requests were open and I was wondering if you could do something with preoutbreak!joel and sick reader? Like a cold/allergies and it comes and goes 😭 allergy season is kicking my butt so badly and I need some Joel comfort. Thank you my love!! 💕✨💐💗

Hi nonnie!! I hope you’re feeling better and I’m so sorry for sitting on this for so long! Please enjoy <3 (gif by @azertyrobaz)

“Joel, it’s just a cold,” you say, practically wrestling to grab your jacket from him. He moves it out of your grasp, and you roll your eyes. “‘M fine. Really.”

You’d been battling a cold for the past few days. Nothing major— just some sniffles and headaches, but it was still enough to set Joel on edge. He’d spent almost every waking moment tending to your every need, even though you could take care of yourself. You knew it was his anxiety. You knew it was his way of showing love. You knew all these things and assured him you were fine, but when he refuses to let you go on patrol with him, you’re about ready to lock him in the house.

“You know you’re just about the most stubborn man I’ve ever met?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he hums as he hangs your jacket back on the hook and looks at you. You cross your arms over your chest and give him an annoyed look. He sighs and puts his hands on your biceps, pulling you out of your defensive stance. “Humor me, please? Just take an extra night to rest, and then I’ll feel better,” he says, interlocking his fingers with yours. “I’ll run you a nice bath and everythin’. You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“Fine,” you give in. He smiles and holds to your hand when he walks upstairs to the bathroom. “But I’m not sitting out another shift.” You add as you lean against the sink and watch him turn on the bath water. He turns to look at you and smirks.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He says. You watch Joel add the perfect amount of soap and eucalyptus oil to clear your sinuses into the bath water. He’s meticulous, and it’s almost comical to watch such a broody man take so much care for something so small. Once the tub is full and the bathroom smells heavenly, he stands in front of you and tugs at the hem of your shirt.

“Maria’s gonna kill you if you’re late for patrol.”

“Let her wait. My girl is sick,” he says, and you smile at him as you shake your head. Carefully, like you’re made of porcelain, he undresses you and kisses your skin in quiet reverence. His beard is a little too wild and scratches at you, but you don’t care enough to make him stop. Once all your clothes are piled on the floor, he takes your hands and helps you step into the welcoming, warm water. You sigh as your muscles relax and the sweet-smelling bubbles surround you. “Better?” He asks from his spot on the closed toilet lid, and you nod. He smiles and leans down to kiss you, but you put a hand between you.

“If I’m too sick to go on patrol, I’m probably too sick to kiss you,” you say. “Wouldn’t want to give you whatever I have.”

“Oh, now that’s a concern after I’ve been taking care of you all week?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” You tease. He kisses your palm and grabs your wrist to hold your hand again. He gets overly affectionate when you’re sick or hurt. Not that you’re complaining. Joel Miller is a creature of habit, and you’ve had more than enough time to understand those habits. He gently kisses your lips, tracing patterns on the back of your hand as he does. He pulls away sooner than you would’ve liked him to, but he takes the time to kiss your nose, your forehead, both your cheeks, and your hand before leaning back to look at you like you hung the moon.

“I’ll be home soon.” He says, almost reading your mind, and you nod.

“I know,” you say. A ball of anxiety creeps up your spine, and you squeeze his hand. “You come back to me in one piece, d’you hear me?”

“I hear ya.”

“Good,” you squeeze him again, and he leans down to kiss the top of your head. “I love you.”

“Even though I’m the most stubborn man you’ve ever met?” He teases, and you shove at his chest, making him laugh. “I love you, too.”

“You better go before Maria comes in here and kicks your ass to next week for being late.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

[ruppcake]

Hi I'm back again. But this time I'd like to request some angst that eventually leads to fluff and a comforting moment with Mogens. Cause like that guy definitely has some sort of past trauma and I just want to comfort him. I've had this idea that Mogens deserves to get a gift as well. Cause like he never got one in the movie, my man deserves some love too! I hope this is more informative than my last ask!

Also take your time, I am so okay with having to wait. Writing takes time ^-^ 💗

Thanks again!

{Heyyyyyyy. I’m sorry for taking a while again I’ve had really bad writers block for the past few days! 😅 thank you for the request and hope you like it!}

Tw!: mentions of @!coho!, tr@um@, @bu$€, and d€@th also involves some language (if triggered by any of these, please don’t read. i don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable 🫂) [YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED]

{Note: (y/n) = your name}

Mogens angst/comfort one-shot

Mogens opens the front door to the nice, cozy cabin that you and him shared. He had a rough day today dealing with some very rude passengers on his boat and not getting the amount of money he was suppose to get. Mogens sighed seeing you were not in the house at the moment. He took off his coat and hat hanging them up on hooks by the door. As he was walking towards the kitchen, he let his mind wonder a bit into places he shouldn’t let it wander to. Things from his past flooding his mind. He stood still in the middle of the kitchen floor having unpleasant memories hauntingly all come back to him. Mogens started to tremble, his chest getting tight and tears welling up in his eyes.

He needed to do something to get rid of the thoughts and feelings. He reached into a near cabinet and took out a bottle of moonshine. Once opened, Mogens started chugging it hoping it would help him forget everything for now. He slid to the ground trembling from where he was sitting. You finally came back home opening the door to see that Mogens was not sitting on the couch waiting for you. You quickly assumed he went to bed or he was not home yet until you heard shaky breathing coming from the kitchen. Immediately, you rushed over to find Mogens actually on the ground with a bottle of moonshine in hand struggling to control his breathing. “Mogens??? Dear, what happened??? Are you alright?!” you kneeled down next to him making him look at you.

Mogens looked into your eyes with his tear filled ones. The eye contact with you made tears finally spill out of his eyes. “Darling…? I…Im alright. Just—“ Before he could finish you put a hand on his cheek. “No. Something is wrong and I need you to open up about it. You’re hurting yourself by keeping everything bottled up. I’ve noticed this for a while now so please talk about it to me” Mogens looked at you before sighing. “Okie okie. I’ll tell you about it.” You nodded before getting up, he gets up with you and drag him to the couch in the living room. “Sit.” Mogens listens sitting down instantly. You sit next to him giving him an ‘talk, im listening’ look. He sighs wiping his eyes. “Heh. where to begin.” He sat back a bit as you scooted closer to him. “The reason you saw me the way I was on the floor was because something today reminded me of certain moments from my past which caused me to feel and remember things I should be forgetting about. Then also cause me to try and drink everything away.”

You grabbed his arm softly. “Mogens. You don’t have to do that. You don’t have to always be tough about everything. You can tell me what’s bothering you, love. You’re not alone anymore. I’m here for you and always will so please tell me what happened.” Mogens looked into your eyes then put his hand over yours. “Alright.” He takes a deep breath before starting. “Today while I was working I saw a mother and her child spending time together at one of the shops I had to stop at to drop off some deliveries. It reminded me of how I was with my mother before she passed. My mother worked as a tailor. Making clothes and fixing them up but she also ran a food stand for people who couldn’t afford any. She taught me to cook and sew. While she was doing that my father was a ferryman and the boat that I have use to belong to him. He was always working and when he was not he would try to spend some time with us. As I got older he taught me how to work on the boat so one day I could take over. Everything was good until my mother got really sick and sadly passed. My father didn’t take it so well. He stopped working, became a drunk and would always blame me for every bad thing that ever happened. I had to take over as the new ferryman since my father didn’t want to work anymore and someone needed to be making money. He would also occasionally beat me too. I still have some of the scars he gave me. Once I had enough money, I left my home town and moved here so I could finally get away from it all. Ever since then I’ve been alone. Don’t know if the bastard is still alive or drank himself into a grave.” Mogens wiped his eyes getting a little shaky. You gave him a soft kiss on the cheek and hugged him tightly. “I didn’t know you went through all that and I’m sorry you did, dear” He hugged back kissing the top of your head.

“Thank you for opening up to me about all this. Just letting you know I love you and will make sure nothing like that will ever happen to you.” He smiled as you ran your hands through his hair. “Well that’s not all. I also had a rough day at work. Had to deal with some unpleasant people as usual but they were more nasty today which also led to me not getting paid as much as I should’ve gotten for taking those bastards to where they were heading.” You clenched your fists in irritation. “How dare they do that to you?! That’s awful!” “People can be like that, darling.” He chuckled looking around until his eye caught a green bag sitting on a chair. “What’s that?” You look over at what he was looking at. “Oh! I forgot I brought something home for you!” You got up walking over to go grab it.

Mogens sat up looking at you as you came back with it giving it to him. “It’s a present for you since we’ve been together for a little while now I wanted to give you something to show how much you mean to me.” He looks at the bag hesitantly opening it to find a new grey sweater, a pair of black gloves and a scarf to match the gloves. “Wow….It’s been a while since anyone has given me a gift.” Mogens looks at you smiling. “Thank you, (y/n) my love.” You smile back at him. “You’re welcome, my dear Mogens.” He put the gifts down on the table before pulling you into an embrace and leaning back so you were more on top of him. You cuddled him nuzzling into his neck. He smiled holding you tight. You both stayed like that for a while until you both decided to go upstairs for bed.

Ahhhhhh I hope you like it! Sorry it took me a while! Thank you for the request and being patient with me! ☺️🫂

[morvantmortuary]

tw//self harm

recently after years of not doing it I’ve fallen back into self harm, i’m full of extreme embarrassment and guilt.

the morvants have been a huge source of comfort for me in trying to cope with this slip, through reading all of the other comfort asks. But I was wondering how they would comfort in this specific situation.

(im sorry if this ask is triggering in anyway thank you for creating such loving and comforting ocs)

oh, oh honey

as someone who’s had some harm-adjacent tendencies before, just know that slips aren’t anything to be ashamed of. it usually only means that something in your current system to get through the day just isn’t able to handle the amount of stress you’re under rn. and even if the slip has been going on for a bit, the holidays aren’t usually a great time for anyone’s mental health. it’s hard for lots of reasons right now, I promise you’re not alone 🖤

just know before I get into writing that a. you’re absolutely not going to feel this way forever. this will pass, and you’ll get back to where you were in the time you need to take to get there. as deep a hole as it feels right now, you’re gonna come out all right 🖤 and b. you don’t need to feel ashamed or embarrassed. this is just you returning temporarily to something that worked before, but it’s not permanent, and progress in this kind of thing isn’t always linear. don’t beat yourself up when you’re already having a hard time, okay?

the rest I’ll put under a cut, just to save space 🖤

the first thing to know is that none of the morvants are going to be mad at you. no one is going to be angry, whether you tell them yourself, or they happen to glimpse a fresh wound, or stumble across something they weren’t meant to see in your bag/room/house etc.

if they see something that makes them concerned, none of them will confront you about it. they’ll wait for a quiet moment where you’re both comfortable and you don’t need to go anywhere anytime soon - maybe just chilling on the couch, or curled up in bed, or sitting together during a lull in the kitchen - and will, calmly and gently, ask if you’re okay. if there’s anything you want or need to talk about. if they can do anything to make you feel safer, or more comfortable talking to them about something… difficult.

when it’s appropriate, they’ll voice their concern - Maxi phrasing it delicately but still clearly, Hex having trouble quite getting the words out for a minute but eventually managing to get the point across, Rora asking you point blank but not meanly.

you only have to explain to the level you want to. they won’t make you justify it to them, they just want to know that they aren’t mistaken in what they think might be happening. no matter why or when, they will still love you.

Maxi’s first concern will be making sure everything is clean and properly bandaged. Even though you’ve possibly tried to handle that yourself to some degree, he’ll still go get his first aid kit from the prep room and insist on taking care of any wounds himself, no matter where they are. He wants to make sure that no matter how deep or what they look like, that they won’t get infected, and that they’ll heal as cleanly as they can. He’s gentle and precise, and might even have some topical lidocaine lying around still so you don’t have to hurt any more than necessary (he’s had plenty of nights where he had to stitch up some much larger wounds on himself, or Hector, and lately even Rora sometimes. he’s an old pro at numbing pain and cleaning up). He’s the perfect person to help you cover anything if you feel self-conscious at all, but first he’ll want to make sure that you’re healthy and comfortable.

if he thinks he won’t upset you, he’ll make a point to press a kiss to each bandage once he has it safely on. just to help them along. (literally, with his brand of necro-magic, but even if he couldn’t do that, he would still want you to feel loved no matter what.)

he’d want to talk, if you were in the right place, about what he could do to help you. what you think your triggers could be, and how he could help minimize them. things he could do to help you if you had the urge again, something to help replace it or circumvent it or at least keep you safe and sterile. (bless his heart, he’d ask if a bite to the spot of your choice - not to draw blood, of course, but just for the feeling - would help at all instead. he’d be willing to volunteer for that, if it made any difference.) he’d want to talk, if you could, about where your feelings had been lately, what was on your mind. he’d be looking for a spot where he could help take something off your plate, something he could do for you to help take some pressure off yourself. He’s a romantic, but one of the ways he shows love is trying to do things his partner doesn’t want to, just to show them that a. he’d do anything for them, and b. he’s here to help you, in whatever ways that entails.

if you didn’t want to talk, that would still be fine. he’d give you carte blanche over what the two of you did that day: what you watched or read or listened to, what you ate, anything for you to feel better. He’d go get anything you wanted, take you anywhere you wanted to go, make you anything you asked for, if it meant you were having an even slightly nicer time in your own head. The entire time, he’d insist on staying close to you - holding your hand, or keeping you in his lap if y’all were hanging out at home, even just sitting with his hip pressed to yours. He would want you to feel secure, safe. There would be kisses to your cheeks, your eyelids, your forehead, the backs of your hands, your shoulders, your neck. He would just want you to know he was there, and he wasn’t going anywhere. You want a human weighted blanket? He would be one, happy to spend the days he didn’t have to work lying on your chest, or keeping you laying on his as he cradled you against his torso, content to feel the beating of your heart through his skin.

when you finally called it a night, he’d keep one arm wrapped firmly around your ribcage as always. in his other hand, with his phone set to the lowest brightness possible, he’d be reading anything he can find about supporting a partner with similar coping mechanisms. he’d defer to you first and foremost - you know your own experience best - but anything he can learn, he’d file away for later. He would want to learn how to be there for you in the ways you needed most.

he would just want to figure out how to make you feel better, if he could. how to let you know that whatever pain you felt, he would carry that weight with you, if it meant you didn’t have to take it out on yourself or carry it alone.

it would be hard for him not to check your wounds every day to make sure they’re healing okay -- he wouldn’t want to keep reminding you of something painful -- but he would want to reassure you (and himself) that you’re going to be fine. and if you ever had another slip, he would want you to know you could tell him, just so he could take care of you after in the same way. He understands things happen. He just wants you to know you don’t have to hide from him.

Hex would flounder a little more - he’s not the best at talking, sometimes, and he keeps his own feelings under a few safe layers of sarcasm and artistic distance between himself and his work. But he would hate the idea of you being in so much pain alone. He would swear to you up and down that you were perfect, beautiful, wonderful, that you could tell him anything and he would still adore you. That he would talk as much or as little as you wanted, he just wanted you to know you could talk to him, and he would never be afraid of what you had to say.

He would want to at least check your scars himself, to clean them and make sure they didn’t hurt. He wouldn’t go as all-in about it with a first aid kit, but he would want to treat you with some soap and warm water, a soft towel and bandaids in cartoon patterns. (“Who wouldn’t want Batman on a cut, c’mon,” he’d tease, gently applying them. “Nothing’s getting past him.”) But before he put those on, he’d offer you a bath, if you wanted to calm down - he’d be happy to draw it for you, to sit and chat with you while you soaked and he would wash your hair. Or if you wanted him to join you, he would sit with you in the warm water, drawing on your skin with the tip of his index finger. He’d be happy to talk if you wanted to talk, or if you didn’t, he would sit there and tell you all the little things he loved about the skin you wore, pointing them out as he went.

He would insist on keeping you as comfortable as possible - he’d want to cook for you himself, if he can make something you’d like. If you still wanted something from out, he’d be willing to go pick it up or have it delivered, but he feels better when he can feed you from his own know-how. He wants to be able to take care of you while doing as much as he can with his own hands, mostly to show you that he won’t let you go without (but also, in the back of his own head, to prove to himself that he can). If he can’t provide the meal itself, he’ll still make sure you don’t go without a snack, a cup of tea, even just some fresh water with fruit in your favorite water bottle. Food is a huge comfort thing for him, so anything he can make you or share with you, you’re going to get. He’ll lay off if you ever told him to, but it’s instinctual to him to feed the people you love in times of need. It’s been a huge love language all his life, so this is him explaining in the loudest possible terms ‘I love you, you never have to be afraid of not being cared for.’

He’s not the best at sitting still. If that’s what you wanted to do, he would busy himself with a book of poetry, or a video game, just something to keep in his hands and keep his brain distracted. But he’d be more likely to ask if you’d maybe want to take a walk or a drive to talk some stuff out. He knows that sometimes, when you’re talking about heavy things, it’s easier to be able to look somewhere else -- out the windshield, down at your feet, up at the sky -- to get things out properly. And he would listen, deeply, drinking your words in, at times maybe pausing for just a little bit longer than feels comfortable when he needs to say something. But he just wants to get it right. He doesn’t want to run the risk of being clumsy with his words when you’re already hurting. His worst fear is saying the wrong thing, anything, that would just make you feel worse. At times, it would be hard for him to start -- there’s a lot of stuff in his past he keeps quiet about, because talking never seemed to change anything. But if he tried to follow something you said with a hushed story from his own life, full of long pauses, it’s just because he’s trying to tell you he understands in his own way. That you don’t ever have to think you’re going through this alone, or that there’s any experience you could have that would scare him away. He’s determined to stay as long as you want him, no matter how bad your days get o how many slips you might have. 

Where he feels words aren’t his strong suit, physical reassurance is always going to be a strength of his. If it would help at all, he would stop what he was doing to kiss you whenever you needed it, or swallow you in a hoodie hug that squeezes you down to the soul. He’s always going to want to cuddle, to touch, to lean behind you with his chin on your shoulder and pester you playfully. He would insist on letting you “borrow” clothes of his - his hoodies, sure, but his big flannel shirts, even his t-shirts or jeans or the skinny hair ties he keeps around - just so you know he’s always there.

Rora would probably be the one who understands the most literally of the three. When you finally told her, she would give you one of her sadder, knowing smiles, taking your hand in hers to intertwine your fingers. It would take her a moment to speak, but eventually she’d find her voice, low as always. “In my old body -- my first one,” she’d explain. “I used to be so... angry. At my parents, at the role they expected me to play... at myself, for not bein’ what I was supposed to be,” she’d pause. “I felt like the only thing I could take it out on, and it would actually make a difference. Ruin the little doll my mother wanted. Put that aching gnaw at the back of my skull somewhere real. Things that only make sense when you’re in the moment, and all you can feel is... well, you know.” She’d frown down at her thighs under her skirt. “I forget, sometimes, that they’re not there anymore. That that girl is dead, and I left that body behind. And, as strange as it sounds...” She trails off, hesitating for a moment. “I don’t always know how I feel about that absence.” She’d look at you, knowing you’d understand.

She would kiss the back of your hand, her lips just a touch too cool. “I know what it’s like, petal. When it feels like you have no other way to get it out. Like it’s the only thing to do to get your brain to leave you alone. It’s okay.” She would lean her forehead against yours. “You were in a space where it would’ve felt worse to keep it festerin’ inside. That still happens to me too, sometimes.” She’d smile, surprisingly gentle for her usually sharp features. “We learn other ways to make it go away. You will, too. It’s okay to feel all different ways about it, but you don’t need to be ashamed of nothin’. You’re just a person. But you’ll always be my favorite person,” she’d add, her voice hushed. “So you can tell me when you feel like that. If you feel like it’ll happen again. I’ll be here. I promise.”

Rora, as mentioned before, tends to feel things most strongly in a physical sense. (Two decades of being trapped without a corporeal form will do that.) She’ll want to do whatever it takes to make you feel comfortable in your own skin. She’ll want to take care of your hair, giving it whatever it needs to grow strong, and in the style that you feel most yourself in. This could be anything from adding oil/a mask to your roots, or giving your cut a fresh buzz if it needs it. While she’s not the cook the boys are, she’d want to share with you fresh fruit from her garden, or (if you drink) a wine she’d been saving for a special occasion. Even if it meant just sitting in the sun with you outside amidst the flowers, she would want you to feel connected to your own body again. Anything she could do to help you feel like it wasn’t your enemy, she would be willing to try. This could mean expensive oils or lotions for your skin, or taking the time to rub your feet, your hands, anywhere you might be holding onto some hurt. 

If you didn’t mind -- if it wouldn’t upset you -- she’d want to take care of your scars, too. Cleaning them, of course, but also treating them with something like shea butter, wanting to show them as much love as the rest of you. That they were just another part of the mural of your skin, nothing to find shameful, just something else to make sure they got the care they deserved.

She would also, in a perhaps more abstract method, want to get something new into your hands to help you find an outlet for your heavier feelings. She’d surprise you with anything she thought you might like: a calligraphy pen and ink in your favorite color, an embroidery pattern to keep your mind and hands busy, something as ordinary as a sketchpad and pencils, some clippings and supplies to grow some of your favorite flowers from the garden all on your own  -- even (if you could stomach it) a beginner version of one of her taxidermy projects. Whatever it was that you felt most at home with, she’d encourage you to bring it to her workshop while she set about her latest project, doing her best to respect your space as you worked (but definitely trying to sneak a peek every so often, as curious as she is). Rora is v much someone who wants to throw herself into the work she loves when she’s feeling in turmoil. She’ll be happy to talk - and to listen to anything you might want to tell her, anything you’d want to get off your chest - but it’s much easier for her to do so with something in your hands.

If none of these appealed to you, she would want you to show her your most favorite ways to hang out and enjoy yourself. She would want to know every little detail about your favorite game, your most loved hobby, the show you watch over and over again, the band you’ve loved since high school. There’s a very high chance it’ll be new to her somehow, but most importantly, she would want to see them through your eyes. She loves you, and because you loved these things, she would love them because they reminded her of you happy. Even if it was completely foreign to her, she’d be determined to try to learn and talk about it with you. Not necessarily as an escape (although it could be that if you needed it), but to find parts of you in the things you loved, so she could remind you of them when you needed it most.

...And of course, with all of them, if it was a person who made you feel this way, then murder is definitely not off the table! You provide a name, they’ll handle the rest, and gladly.

I know this took me a day, but I’ve been thinking about it since you sent it in, hon. I hope any of this helps even a little, and just know that they would all be happy to be there for you on your worst days. So am I. 🖤 we all have to look out for each other, after all.

take care, and thank you for being sweet enough to reach out. we’re all rooting for you, but be gentle with yourself in the meantime.

[sparrowsworkshop]

I posted 40 times in 2022

That's 27 more posts than 2021!

30 posts created (75%)

10 posts reblogged (25%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@sparrowsworkshop

@onewingedsparrow

@thewritewolf

@mostlovedgirl-writes

I tagged 40 of my posts in 2022

#tloz - 25 posts

#the legend of zelda - 23 posts

#loz - 23 posts

#legend of zelda - 19 posts

#sparrow art - 19 posts

#link - 18 posts

#zelda fanart - 16 posts

#traditional art - 16 posts

#linktober - 15 posts

#linktober2022 - 14 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#so many angsty prompts for today but i wanted something wholesome :) and this was the first thing that came to mind! i hope you like it!

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

“To Bee a Leader” by OneWingedSparrow; Chapter 3: Draining

t Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter (TBA) >> Summary:  RiD'15, post TFP. Set sometime in the first season, before the finale.  Bumblebee knows that Optimus Prime chose him to be leader of the Autobot  team on Earth…but he’s tired and he misses his dad’s leadership. Main Tags: Bumblebee & Optimus Prime, Bumblebee & Russell Clay, Father and Son Optimus and Bumblebee, Prime in Disguise Bumblebee, Light Angst, Hurt / Comfort (Adulting is hard and this ’Bee knows it well…why is he so relatable)

Chapter 3 Summary: A weary Bumblebee journals his thoughts. Reblogs are appreciated! Read on AO3 ~

An excerpt from Bumblebee's personal log.

Surprisingly, all entries— this sample included, naturally—were documented in English, rather than Cybertronian.

Perhaps the lieutenant worried his records would fall into Decepticon possession, and sought to secure them in an admittedly unconventional manner. No one knows for certain, save the author himself.

The lieutenant was...a rather curious individual.

*        *        * February 21 Earth time: 1333 hours Dear Diary, I am tired.Maybe it's physical. Likely it's not. My Energon levels have never been so full. Despite not having a Bridge off Earth, and basically being stranded, we seem to be doing okay supplies-wise. The Alchemor cargo bays remained largely intact after the crash, providing us with easy access to a decent amount of Energon cubes. No need to ration quite yet. Even so, I am trying to manage our supply efficiently. The Decepticons set loose here have given us quite a beating, but not many have stabbed past our armor, thank Primus. So why does it feel like I'm constantly draining?

If I was actually leaking, I could do something about it. I could cauterize the wound. I could apply pressure to slow my circulation. I could slap a bandage on it and drive it off, and everything would be fine. Eventually. But this is something different. Internal bleeding? Maybe. Somehow, though, I don't think anything would come up internally if I let myself be scanned. Whatever is happening is flying under the radar...and it's annoying. I just feel so...I don't know. Tired. That's the best way I can put it. I want a kind of rest that doesn't come by simply recharging. I don't know how to get this. I don't know if I can get this. I just wish...I wish my steps didn't feel so heavy all the time. I wish I could identify the problem. I wish I could put an APB on a specific target and collar it for good. For now, all I can do is keep going. Yeah, I know, I know. Ratchet's yelled at me over that so many times. Believe me, I know. Sometimes, that's the worst thing you can do when you're injured, physically or not. But sometimes that's the only thing you can do. Sometimes, it's even the right thing to do. Sometimes, it's necessary. My team needs me. Optimus needs me. I can't break down and give up just because I hurt, or just because I'm tired for some unidentified reason. One day, I'll be better. I want that. I will make sure of that. For now, though...I'll keep going. I know it's the right thing to do. ~ t Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter (TBA) >>

30 notes - Posted April 9, 2022

#4

For the @zelinkcommunity​ event Opposites Attract! Week 2: Flourish / Wither. Flourish (intransitive verb): 1. To grow well; to prosper; to thrive 🌱 2. To wield dramatically! 🍃💐 My first posted art for my “Deku Tree Link AU”! I had so much fun drawing this! (✿◠‿◠) In this OoT AU, Link inherited botanical powers when he was adopted by the (actual tree) former Great Deku Tree, who made him the next Guardian of the Forest. When the Hero can summon plants by a mere thought, why wouldn’t he use this gift to show his princess how much he cherishes her? Special thanks to @zeldadiarist for the inspiration for Link’s straw cape! Sketch under the cut!

31 notes - Posted November 13, 2022

#3

Fire Emblem: Three Huberts It’s his birthday today btw :D Happy Birthday, Hubert! 💜 Reblogs okay! But PLEASE DO NOT REPOST

32 notes - Posted April 17, 2022

#2

“The Song of Stormlight” by OneWingedSparrow

Inspired by this wonderful art by @louwhose!

Fic Summary: Left outside in the rain during a Weeping, bridgeman Link introduces his fellow slave Sheik to a secret about spheres.

P.S. You don’t really need to know anything about The Stormlight Archive to enjoy this fic, but I highly recommend reading the books because they are very good ;) Main Tags:  Ocarina of Time AU, Stormlight Archive Setting, Zelink, Sheik / Link, Fluff without Plot, Bridgeman!Link, Darkeyes!Link, Darkeyes!Sheik, Music, Song of Storms

Read on AO3 Written for the @zelinkcommunity Opposites Attract event! Week 4: Hidden / Revealed. Reblogs are appreciated!

~ “The spheres are singing,” Link said softly. Leaning against the bars of the cage, Sheik tilted her head. “What do you mean?” Link’s ears twitched slightly, one at a time, gradually angling in different directions like a chull’s antennae. “Can’t you hear them?” Sheik closed her eyes too and focused, but the rushing wind drowned out everything else. “It’s too loud.” “May I?” Sheik opened her eyes to find Link staring questioningly at her. She raised an eyebrow, unsure of what he requested, but somehow trusting him regardless. “I suppose?” Slowly, Link scooted closer, his hands reaching out for either side of her head. Sheik couldn’t help but tense a little as his face neared hers. Storms. His dark brown eyes were rich and warm in shade, but somehow sharp and fierce too; both welcoming and dangerous, alluring and terrible all at once. Like a barbed spear with an elaborately gilded shaft, or a beautiful Shardblade with a bloodthirsty, serrated edge. Why...why was it that darker eyes were considered inferior, again?

His hands found her ears, and gently, hesitantly, pulled the mask away from them. Not enough to unveil her face—which was fortuitous, because Sheik could feel an embarrassingly strong blush raging on her cheeks.

Thankfully, he let go quickly, and backed away into his corner of the cage. “That oughta help,” Link said, absentmindedly looking out through the bars. “You can...you can try again now, if you want.” Sheik nodded, even though he wasn’t looking her way.

The slave driver’s bag of spheres sat on the ground a few yards away, faintly aglow from within. The splintered floor of the cage scratched against her ragged clothing as she moved closer to press her nose against the cold metal bars. Torrential rain wept down her face, but drenched as she already was, Sheik ignored it. Breathing carefully, Sheik tried once again to listen.

Splashing. Pattering. Puddles bouncing. Ripping, roaring, rushing. Her nose began to run, not unlike the steady stream thundering off the roof. A standard symphony for a Weeping. She still couldn’t hear anything new.

Until Link started singing.

Back and forth, up and down, never ending turnaround.

Bid me once to stay, else I fall away….

Colors flashed before Sheik’s eyes.

Blue. White. Purple. Green. Each glowing boldly. No distinct form, no identifiable shape. The colors took a rhythm of their own, and danced around Sheik’s vision, like some sort of musical spren. She knew not where they came from. They were gone in an instant.

But the spheres on the ground...they followed that rhythm, and pulsed to the same beat. And as Sheik stared, wide eyed and awestruck, a faint voice seemed to emerge from within them, drawn out by Link’s calling.

Seek the shore!

Dare not drown!

New beginnings can be found….

“Rid of all farewells and pain,” Sheik murmured along with their voices.

Her heart jolted. Where had the words come from? How did she know? She frantically glanced over at Link for an explanation, but instead of a sagely expression, Link possessed the biggest, brightest grin she’d ever seen on a living bridgeman.

“I thought you could hear them,” Link said with satisfaction. “What with you being musical and all that.”

Fingers shaking, Sheik pulled the mask back over her ears.

How much...did he know about her, anyway?

~

33 notes - Posted November 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

“The Right Words” by OneWingedSparrow

Fic Summary: Link has recovered some of his memories of Princess Zelda, but feels like he doesn't remember her as well as he ought to. One day, on a visit to Korok Forest, a particular Korok encourages him with some wisdom that opens Link's mind a little more. Tags: BotW, Zelink, Link & Koroks, Loyalty, Recovered Memories Read on AO3 Written for the @zelinkcommunity Discord server’s weekly prompt: “Reminisce.” Reblogs are appreciated! ~ When one of the Koroks invited Link into his home to chat, Link hadn’t hesitated to accept. After the existential crisis of trudging through the dizzying, maddening haze of the Lost Woods, it was a relief to take a breather in a safe place. Of course, the Korok Forest proper was calming, with its gentle breezes that carried distant giggles of Koroks and their ever spinning pinwheel blades—yet, there was something reassuring about stepping into a more secure area, surrounded by bark-scented wooden walls instead of a collection of healthy, flourishing trees that, for all their charms, reminded him far too much of the maze of sneering, rotting snags. As Link stepped inside the Great Deku Tree, he blinked rapidly to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting. The interior was cozy, almost like an ordinary house—clearly well planned out, with carvings in the walls and floor that formed sturdy benches and tables, as well as leaf garments that were strung about in festive fashion. Link wondered if the Great Deku Tree had naturally grown such décor, or if the Koroks had somehow crafted them with their tiny nubs for hands. Either would be an impressive feat, but he thought it might be rude to inquire which was the case. Unsure of what else to do, Link settled himself on a bench facing the exit, where he had a clear view of his Korok friend. They were hard at work dividing a colorful assortment of fresh mushrooms that had been haphazardly plopped upon a small wooden table. They would thoughtfully pick up each mushroom individually; regard it for a moment in deep concentration, and then dutifully separate it by type, and then by size. It was oddly mesmerizing to watch. “So? Tell me about her,” the Korok merchant piped up. For a moment, they broke their rhythm in favor of jovially swinging two Stamella Shrooms around like Hestu’s maracas. “You must have plenty of good stories to share, koowee!” Link rubbed the back of his neck, quickly regretting it as his hand came away slick with sweat. “Stories...about who?” he asked distractedly, although he was fairly certain he already knew the answer.

“The princess, kikoo!” The Korok drummed the mushrooms rapidly on their little table before dropping them into their assigned group. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten her again. The Great Deku Tree would be displeased to hear that.” Link looked down at his boots, which were caked with mud and dead leaves from his trek. “I haven’t forgotten.” Even without turning, he knew the Korok was watching him expectantly. “But that doesn’t mean I remember,” Link continued, biting his lip. “I mean, I can remember a few things about her. But they’re only...well, snapshots. Pieces of my memory, torn apart and patched together, with so many holes in between. Not enough solid information for me to tell any stories.” “Anything can be made into a story,” the Korok said confidently. “It doesn’t matter if you think you don’t have enough words. All you need are the right ones.” Thoughtfully, Link wiped his hands on his tunic. His mind wandered backwards, drifting through the shadowy paths of a different type of Lost Woods, searching for even a small detail of Princess Zelda that he could somehow craft into a story. Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for him to discover one. Like...stumbling upon a Korok in a most obvious hiding spot. “She loves animals,” Link began. A smile tugged at his lips. “Dogs...frogs...horses. I think it took her a while to warm up to the horses, but after I gave her some pointers, she really enjoyed riding. Which was nice,” he mused, “because when she went riding, I got to ride too.” He paused. A new thought awakened in his mind. Riding. The sword still on his back, its weight reminding him sternly of his duty, but his hands free from that burden, preoccupied as they were with the reins. Still bound to his responsibilities, and yet, at the same time, freed from them. A strange feeling, and contradictory, but so wonderful. He would...yes, he would direct Zelda to ride her horse either beside him or directly in front of him so he could keep an eye on their surroundings. He would cautiously regard all that was ahead, scanning for any mounted Bokoblins that might cross their path, ready to draw his bow if necessary. And just like that, like arrows loosed in a frenzy, little details came rushing back to him, rapidfire. How one time—was it the first time?—they went riding out in the wilderness, her horse spooked and burst into a gallop and she dropped the reins and clung to Celestial’s mane for dear life until Link could catch up and help. How he would quietly offer her a hand up when she mounted, even though she refused his assistance for several weeks at first. Eventually...oh, eventually she came to accept his shy offer of chivalry…. How she would grow in her confidence on horseback, until she could gallop at will again and keep her reins securely in her grip, laughing at him to match her speed…. And…. And how he would try not to be distracted by how she smiled while she rode—one of the rare occasions he could see her so happy and carefree. He had to stay alert; he had to remain vigilant. But...but he kept glancing at her all the same, to see as much of that joy as he could, to keep that in his memory…. Forever. Link swallowed a lump in his throat that he hadn’t realized was there. “Koo-ee?” He shook his head, and the room he was in came back into focus. Wooden bench. Grainy floor. The rich, earthy scent of mushrooms. Something nudged his leg, gentle but uncertain. Link realized the Korok had abandoned their workstation, and was now standing before him, repeatedly poking him in obvious concern. “Is that the end of the story, koowa-kee?” He took a deep breath, and reached out to pat the Korok on the head in a timid sort of thanks. The Korok visibly relaxed, worry fading from their shiny black eyes. “No,” Link said, and meant it with all his heart. ~

39 notes - Posted September 12, 2022

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[xtrafluffyteddy]

They don’t deserve you

pairing: Eddie munson x reader, Steve harrington x reader, Billy Hargrove x reader

Mentions: depression, getting stood up, happy ending and comfort though

This is part of the house for wayward souls series

This is inspired by my boyfriend who stood me up on our nine month anniversary which is today.

You looked yourself over in the large mirror as you got ready for your anniversary date with your boyfriend, Motley Crue’s kickstart my heart playing over your small radio, “hey!” You call to the boys as you look at two dresses on your bed. They all rush in stumbling over each other “what’s up?” Billy asks first. “Which dress looks prettier the black one with the turtle neck or the red one with the sweetheart neckline?“ you look at all of them gauging their faces “I say neither and you stay home with us watching horror movies” Eddie replies toying with something he found on your dresser “yeah babe the guy your with is a total tool” Steve follows as he sits on your bed careful of your dresses. “He’s not a tool, he’s nice maybe y’all just caught him on a bad day” you huff as you look between both dresses “fine fine whatever” Billy answers waving his hand “but go with the black one with those black boots you bought” Billy digs through your closet grabbing said boots. “Thanks boys now get out so I can changed” you usher them all out of your room so you can finish getting ready.

When you come out all the boys are sitting on the couch in the living room watching some dumb movie that had come on “hey how do I look” they all turn to you with varying reactions, Billy looks wide eyed, Steve is blushing, and Eddie is just mouth agape. “I’ll take that as a good?” You laugh softly as you grab your purse “I’ll be back at 9 enjoy your horror movie marathon” you ruffle each of their hairs and make your eyes out to your black Cadillac, shout at the devil immediately blaring from its speaker “bye boys be good” you pull out do the drive away speeding towards Enzo’s.

You sit and wait at the reserved table eating a few breadsticks as you wait for your boyfriend to arrive, you look at the clock that read 8:30 you got there at 7:30. You let out a small sigh deciding to give him more time trying to reason with yourself that maybe there’s just traffic or something happened or maybe he was just late but as 8:30 became 9:00 then 9:30 then 10:00 your heart dropped into your stomach knowing he really had just stood you up on your 9 month anniversary. You sniff paying for the two bottles of wine you had requested and tipped the waiter well and maybe the shameful walk out to your car.

When you pulled up to your house all you wanted to do was just crawl into bed and sleep for days feeling embarrassed and hurt and not wanting to what I told you sos from the boys when you walked in. You got out of your car and made what felt like a long trek to the door unlocking it, when you got in you just took off your shoes and tossed your purse on the table ignoring the boys questions on “how’d it go” and “your back late” you close your room door behind you and just crawl into bed not bothering to take off your dress or wipe off the small amount of make up you had on.

“Sweetheart” you heard Eddie say from outside the door “what happened?“ Steve continued “talk to us” Billy finished as they all stood outside the door worried at your lack of response. They all three look at each other before entering the room taking in the pitiful sight of you curled up under your blanket tears streaking your cheeks “he stood me up” you mumble almost inaudibly “what was that?” Steve questioned making his way towards you like you were a skittish animal about to take off “he stood me up” you said a bit louder voice cracking.

“Oh sweetheart” Eddie frowned as he crawled into your bed rubbing your back “he didn’t even call and explain why?” Billy questioned taking a seat at the end of your bed frown growing on his face “nope” you sniff squeezing your eyes shut “you guys were right he was a tool…but at least he was nice to me” your voice cracks as you try not to start crying again “honey just because he’s nice to you doesn’t make him a good boyfriend” Billy says patting your leg “yeah he could be the nicest dude in the world and still be a douche” Steve whispers petting your head. You just nod to tired to say anything else.

“Cmon honey let’s get you in pajamas we aren’t just gonna let you mope around here because of some douche bag who doesn’t even deserve you” Billy helps you up as Eddie gets up to look through your closet pulling out your favorite pajamas that was just a tshirt with hair dye and bleach stains all over it “why don’t we go watch those scary movies we were talking about hm?” Steve lead you to the living room as soon as you got dressed. All you can is nod still hung up on the fact you got stood up. They all lead you to the living room helping you sit down while Eddie went to grab the blankets, Steve went to grab the vhs tapes, and Billy went to grab some snacks and drinks. “So we rented a new movie called child’s play” Steve wiggles said vhs tape with a small smile “it’s about some fucked up doll atleast that’s what I heard” he quickly puts it in the tv before getting comfortable on your left side, “scooch sweetheart” Eddie asks as he makes himself comfy on your right side, Billy took the last place left which was laying back against your legs your hands unconsciously going to play with his blonde locks a frown still on your face. “Don’t let it get to you babe” Steve reassures squeezing you close as he presses play on the remote.

Halfway through the movie you had made yourself more comfortable laying your head against Eddie’s shoulder wrapped up in a blanket, when there was a knock on the door startling you “I’ll go see who it is” Billy got up and made his way to the door opening it to see your tool of an ex boyfriend standing there “what do you want” he asks leaning against the door frame “is she here?” The ex questions trying to look past Billy “why do you ask?” Billy grunts out arms crossing over his chest as he feels his blood boil “I just wanted to say I’m sorry to her but she should’ve just called me instead of leaving the restaurant it made me look like an idiot when I showed up to her not there” now Billy was pissed he grabbed the ex by the shirt “oh fuck no you had her waiting for 4 hours for your pathetic ass to show up get the fuck off my property and if I see you around her or here again ill make sure you never see the light of day” Billy threatens pushing the ex onto the sidewalk “now get lost you fucking tool” and with that he slams the door calming down when you sleepily call “who was that Billy” “no one honey just some door to door salesman or somethin” he takes his seat back against your legs enjoying your fingers playing with his hair.

[nghtwngs]

how to love a hero

description: how to love and be loved by a hero: with tenderness and warmth, washing the blood from each other’s hands after a long day.

pairing: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader (implied; could be read as platonic)

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship

word count: 2.2k

warnings: not canon compliant, canon-typical violence, blood/injury, nonsexual nudity (gn!reader), kissing, swearing, 16+

a/n: one of the panels from moon knight (2006) inspired this cause it left me in shambles. they shower together (not explicit) marc and reader both need a hug and they’re getting one here!! i was writing from my shit memory, so my mind muddled some of the scenes from the show together (and bc i didnt know where i was going with this) but i fixed it. i also held this hostage in my drafts for like 2 (3?) months sorry lol

The handcuffs around your wrists felt like an unnecessary touch. You weren’t really sure why these people even had them in the first place, but after what you did to a quite few of them, you guessed it was probably a smart precautionary measure. Arthur Harrow’s followers kept shoving you forward like you couldn’t walk yourself. Your legs and hands ached and so did your head, but the pain suddenly went to the back of your mind when your eyes met the reason you were here.

Marc was kneeling on the ground, hands behind his back. The several guns pointed directly at his face made you swallow thickly, throat drying up fast. Your name flew out of his mouth when he saw you, eyes hanging on the blood stains all over your clothes before searching for any injuries. Marc immediately assumed the worst because that’s always been what he’s best at—and you must’ve been bleeding out with the amount of red he could see.

He lunged at Harrow, but his shoulders were pressed down roughly. “You piece of shit!”

“It’s not mine, Marc,” you reassured him, wrists straining against the tight cuffs.

“Did quite a number on my people, actually,” Harrow said as he took a few steps towards you. You thought you heard the faint sound of broken glass, but you weren’t sure where it was coming from. He glanced over his shoulder. “I can’t help but wonder what Ammit’s verdict might be.”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” Marc screamed, voice strained and fists clenched so hard that his nails dug crescent shapes in his palms.

Harrow held out his hand. “So hand over the scarab, and we won’t have to find out.”

Marc inhaled sharply, glancing at you. You shook your head at him, mouthing, Don’t. Khonshu stood sternly behind you, staff in hand. He wasn’t sure if it was a taunt or pity—more likely the former—but Marc’s heart hammered against his chest. It felt like forever had passed before he shook his own in defeat. His shoulders sunk. “I can’t… I can’t do that.” His chest tightened when the words left his mouth, the taste of bile on his tongue.

“It’s funny,” Harrow began with the tilt of his head before clarifying, “how much you two are like. You, Marc, push everyone you care about away. You pushed them away, so they wouldn’t be able to see you how you see yourself: unworthy of love. So that they couldn’t.”

Your gaze found Marc, but he was unable to meet yours.

“Bastard,” he muttered.

Harrow turned to you with a smile that made your skin itch. It felt so empty for a man who claimed he wanted to bring justice to the world; a really fucked up kind of justice. “And you, you desperately tried to stay far away from him. To keep him from seeing any part of you that was real, so that he wouldn’t realize how undeserving of love you feel you are. How pathetic you feel standing next to him and everyone around you. They’re all so capable, but what are you good at?”

Your throat was hoarse as you answered, “Killing you.”

“But that’d make you a criminal, and doesn’t Marc want to be a hero? Is that not why he serves Khonshu?” He sighed, shifting his weight back onto his cane. “But that old bird knows nothing of justice.”

“Killing millions of innocent people is justice?”

“I’m simply getting rid of the choice of evil, eradicating it and preventing bad people from doing terrible things.”

“What happens when there’s no one left to make that choice?” He turned away from you as you continued, “The kind of justice you talk about is contingent on there being good, perfect people. They don’t exist. What kind of mistake determines that you have to die?”

Harrow walked towards you, appearing unfazed by your words. “Ammit knows all. Her justice is absolute. Harsh, maybe, but necessary.”

The man on your right released one of your wrists from the cuffs, yanking your arm roughly. You fought back, but they only held onto you tighter. You were definitely going to find bruises in the morning. Well, only if you were alive to find them. But before Harrow could take your arm, you heard the cry of your name. Everyone’s eyes landed on Marc, now clothed in Khonshu’s ceremonial armor, fighting off Ammit’s followers.

This was your opening. The chaos had the man’s hold on you loosen. You yanked your arm from his grasp and quickly grabbed the empty side of the handcuffs before wrapping the chain around his neck. He squirmed beneath you, thrashing wildly until he fell limp. You threw him toward the guy pointing a gun at you, but his eyes widened, falling forward with two crescent darts in his back.

You took the gun under his body. It was heavy in your hands, but the weight felt familiar. Your stomach churned at that—but there wasn’t any time to think. Marc needed your help. You reminded yourself that Steven did too. The only sounds you could hear were the bullets. You hoped Marc was okay. You found cover behind a table that had fallen over, eyes scanning the surroundings.

He had a group of people around him, unloading all of their ammo at him. It was a futile effort. The armor he had on was bulletproof. He was taking them down with ease. You took the clearest shots you could find to help, taking as many of them as you could down.

Suddenly, you were hitting the dirty ground. Your head began to throb terribly. You groaned, clutching your skull. What did you just get hit with? A fucking semi-truck? You heard your name again, or at least you thought you did because there was also a relentless ring in your ears now. A woman turned you over, her knuckles meeting your cheek. You tried to block her, but your reflexes were a lot slower after you took her first hit.

You panted, cursing under your breath. You finally gained the advantage, and your fist met her face. Years of training made this feel like second nature. You felt your knuckles split open. You kept hitting and hitting until you couldn’t hear her groans or anything anymore. Tears pricked your eyes and the world in front of you began to blur. All you could feel was your hand against her skin.

Moon Knight pulled you off the woman, his wrapped hands on the sides of your face as he yelled your name. You kept heaving like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air for your lungs. After a few minutes, you finally started to register his voice.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “You’re safe now.”

Your eyes fell onto the woman, who was now slumped on the ground, in horror. There was blood and dirt and grime all over her face which had already started to bruise purple. It had matched your stinging knuckles. Bright crimson stained your skin.

You did that?

“Hey, look at me.” Marc tilted your head back towards him, eyes meeting yours. Even though his touch was gentle, you still winced.

Both you and Marc looked around warily. Harrow was nowhere to be found.

“Are you okay?” you choked out, wrapping his arm around your neck to support him.

He frowned. “Are you?”

“I’ve been worse. You were taking most of the shots.”

“I’ll be fine,” he answered. “It didn’t even hurt.”

You looked at him like you didn’t believe him, but you don’t press further because you knew it wouldn’t go anywhere.

-

You weren’t sure how either of you managed to sneak into the hotel room without being noticed. You both looked like you fell into a ditch together. That was if the ditch was bloody. Very bloody. You had run out of clothes to change into, but your somewhat clean jackets seem to have done the job just fine. You heard the click of the lock behind you. The room was still a mess. The shards of glass from the broken mirror were still there. You frowned.

Not much had been said since you escaped. Barely. But you’ve done this before. You’ve done this a million times—so why did this feel so different? Was it because Harrow saw right through you? He hadn’t even met you until today. The silence between you was heavy and inescapable, but not oppressive. The two of you were always better when it was quiet. Neither of you were very good with words.

You stepped into the bathroom with Marc following right behind. You couldn’t remember who turned on the water, but the heat radiating in the room felt good. The mirror slowly began to glaze over. What was left of your reflections were now a blur of colors, a fog of an ugly red and brown. You wiped off part of the mirror with your palm. The corners of your mouth curled down at the sight. Cuts littered your face, and your lips were split open. You were nearly unrecognizable.

You felt Marc’s hand on your cheek, warm and pulling you to face him. He had looked about the same as you did, the only difference being that he was still familiar to you. His touch was still gentle, and his brown eyes were still soft. You let out a shaky breath, and his thumb rises to your eye, wiping the tear that you didn’t realize had escaped.

You missed him terribly.

Marc had chipped away at your resolve over the years you’d known him, digging his way into your heart like no one else had before. It was frustrating. You hadn’t made it easy, but he kept trying until he saw every part of you. The ones that you didn’t want him to see. The ones that made you feel unlovable and alone. The ones that left an ache in your chest and a hesitance in your step.

But somehow, even though he’d seen all of you by now, it felt like you’d barely seen any of him. You thought you did. You thought you’d seen all the wonderful and the terrible already. You always thought you knew him better than yourself. You were wrong. But still, you wanted to see all of him. You knew you could love it all. You could learn to like Steven too. Adapt. You were always good at that.

Nothing ever mattered as long as you had Marc.

You leaned into him, listening to the sound of his breaths and the pitter-patter of the shower running, and then you were kissing him. The press of his lips against yours was soft, unsure. He was always gentle, so gentle for a man who used to live to kill, but in your arms, he was putty. You were a gift that he never deserved, and now you were here, so forgiving and loving. His hot tears slid down your cheeks as he pulled you into his embrace.

You tugged on his jacket to let him know you wanted it off. He didn’t want to let go because what if you wanted to leave? What if you wanted to leave him the way he left you? Your fingers rubbed the small of his back where his clothes had ridden up and left some skin exposed. You let him hold you a little longer before his grip finally loosened.

You peeled off the layers of clothing until you could see all the scars on his skin. They had healed already, but they were there. Faint like a distant memory. The fresher wounds had healed too. Khonshu’s armor, you guessed. You felt Marc flinch under your touch as you traced lines into his skin. You didn’t even realize you were doing that. He soon relaxed and began to lean into your touch. You wondered if it was just as familiar to him as his was to you. Like it was muscle memory, something that could never be unlearned no matter how many years passed.

Your clothes came off quickly after, eager to rid yourself of the dirt that covered you. Marc’s hands held your shaky ones between his under the shower head. He rubbed the dried blood away. It stung your hands, but you didn’t mind the pain. The water that ran into the drain was brown. You kept your eyes shut tight, tilted away.

The shower knob squeaked as Marc twisted it, changing it to an acceptable temperature. He was the first to step in, his hair already soaking as he held his hand out for you. You quietly took it, joining him. He cupped your jaw with his hands, wiping the grime off your face with more care than you’d ever experienced from anyone. His eyes met yours, and the way he looked at you was so soft that you just wanted to cry again.

His thumb swiped your lip, and then he pressed his lips on yours, melting into you. The taste of him, faintly metallic and minty, was all you could think about. The way he felt against you with the water running down your skin, warm and hot and consuming all of your thoughts. You were drowning in him, and you welcomed it with open arms. It could have been the end of the world (in fact, it kind of was), and you think you would be content with this. To be at the end of it all with him.

Neither of you said anything, but you both knew. You didn’t have to say it. You already had many times before, but either way, you felt it in his touch, in the taste of him, in the look in his eyes.

You felt loved.

[x-neurodivergent-reader]

Headcanons: 13th Doctor with a companion who has OCD

A/N: I must admit, I’m not particularly happy with this one (not sure why – I guess I feel like I could have done more with this idea, but didn’t quite feel able to?)… But I’ll let whoever reads this decide whether or not it’s still good. If it is, then enjoy!

The reader here is gender-neutral.

Content warnings: Some angst (not that different from my Master with OCD!Reader headcanons, but without the Master-typical violence)

Tag list: @agent-barnes40

Even if she isn’t the best at comforting people, the Doctor does want to be there for you in any way she can. She can imagine how frustrating, overwhelming, and sometimes even outright frightening such a disorder can be, so she does her best to try to help you through it.

She won’t judge you for your rituals, no matter how illogical or odd they might appear. She understands that the way OCD works can be strange sometimes, so she won’t bring attention to that aspect of it, unless it’s to assure you that you should do what makes you feel safer, as long as it isn’t hurting you.

If your intrusive thoughts are centred around morality in any way, the Doctor can likely relate, given the many points in her lives where she took more morally dubious actions, and thought lowly of herself as a result.

When it comes to travelling, she’ll try to help you find ways to help ease or cope with your anxiety as much as possible in situations where you might not be able to do a ritual.

It might take a decent amount of trial and error, but since she doesn’t want you to get especially anxious from your OCD alongside the stress that comes with your adventures, she does what she can for you, if you want her to.

If your thoughts involved something terrible happening to either of you on an adventure, the Doctor might encourage you to take a break from travelling with her until they ease off.

She isn’t likely to outright “ban” you, as she trusts you to make your own decision on whether or not you can handle travelling while having those thoughts eating at your mind – but she’ll encourage you to do what’s best for your own mental health, even if it means leaving until the subject of your OCD changes or, again, you find some measures that make it more bearable to deal with.

The Doctor prefers not to use her psychic abilities on other people unless the situation really calls for it, so it might take some convincing – but she can agree to use them to calm your mind, if you ask.

She’s most likely to agree if you want her to do it because your rituals are constant to the point of being especially debilitating, or your thoughts are horrific enough that it’s taking a toll on your ability to feel safe at all, or your self-image. If her using her abilities is the only way that you can feel able to function in your day-to-day life, then so be it.

It obviously isn’t a permanent solution, but it’s nice to get the weight of the intrusive thoughts and constant anxiety out of your head for a bit. And she won’t fully admit it, but making that connection with someone she trusts as much as you might just calm down her own rampant mind, too.

[saeyoungchoismaid]

Stealth Mission

Pairing: fwb!Childe x reader x crush!Kaeya Genre: smut, slight angst Warnings: f!reader referred to as princess, choking, degradation, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, imagined voyeurism, exhibitionism, and threesome. I think that’s it- Summary: (Y/n) is set to go on a mission with her crush Kaeya. It won’t be long before Childe, who she has a friend with benefits relationship with, finds out about it Word Count: 4.4k words A/N: Merry late Christmas!! Lol excuse the title. I couldn’t think of anything

Read on AO3!

“(Y/n), thank you for getting here on such short notice,” Jean greets you as soon as you walk through the door. Flashing her your usual smile, you make your way over to her desk, standing right before it as she gets up out of her chair. 

“It’s no problem at all.”

“Well, I know you were on a mission in Liyue, so I appreciate your haste in getting here. Now, with that said, let’s get to business, shall we?” she says as she sits back down, motioning for you to do the same using one of the two chairs in front of her desk. You take the one on the right before relaxing into it, giving her your full attention as she gives you the rundown on what’s been going on. After she finishes explaining, you take a deep breath. 

“Wow, okay. Guess the monsters have been up to quite a lot since I’ve been gone, haven’t they?” you reply with a soft laugh. She hums and rises to her feet, walking over to one of her many grand windows. 

“Mm, yes. I’m afraid that if we keep letting them go unchecked that they’ll cause even more chaos and havoc than they already have, and they’re just getting closer and closer to Mondstadt with each day that passes.”

“Right. Well,” you say as you rise from your chair as well, “I’ll see what I can do to ensure everyone’s safety.” 

“Great, thank you. If you don’t mind, I’d also like to send Kaeya along with you.” The name causes your heart to skip a beat and for color to fill your cheeks. 

“Kaeya? Why?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

“Well, I know you’re very experienced and skilled in fighting, but I just would feel more comfortable if you had someone along with you for this one. Things can get nasty out there if you’re all by your lonesome, especially with the amount of monsters like these that have been showing as of late,” she explains, turning away from the window to face you. You hum and nod your head in agreement, too many fights you had to do alone coming to your mind. Some went okay and others ended up with you having to seek out Barbara to heal your injuries. 

“Well, I’m sure the extra help won't hurt. I’ll never say no to company,” you agree, trying to not let the excitement over the idea of spending some time alone with him seep through in your words. 

“Great! I’ll make sure to let him know the next time I see him! I really can’t thank you enough.” With a small nod in reply, you shake her hand and see yourself out of her office. As soon as you walk out of the Knights of Favonius headquarters, you start making a mental list of everything you would need to bring. Jean had said that you would be trekking through the woods to find some of these monsters and that it would start quite a bit aways from Mondstadt, so you’re going to have to bring your good shoes and camping gear. 

Just as you’re about to head out of town, you notice Kaeya talking to a merchant not too far away from you. He just so happens to look up when you spot him at that moment, a sly smile stretching across his face as his eyes meet yours, and you can’t help the way your heart skips a beat. You’ve had a crush on Kaeya for what felt like the longest time, and sometimes in moments like these you can convince yourself that the smiles he flashes you each and every time he sees you, might mean that the feelings you harbor for him aren’t too one sided afterall. He bids goodbye to the merchant with a small wave before casually strolling over towards you. 

“Well, good afternoon, Honorary Knight,” he greets, coming to stand before you and crossing his arms over his strong chest as he gives you a once over. 

“You don’t have to call me that, you know,” you reply with a roll of your eyes, placing all of your weight onto one foot and a hand onto your hip. He smirks at your words and you already know what’s coming. He just loves teasing you, much to your chagrin and pleasure. 

“Oh? Would you prefer ‘princess’ instead, then?” he asks, an amused lilt to his words as he steps closer to you, to which you step back in response to. 

“Nope,” you reply casually, as if the name didn’t make your heart flutter. 

“Hm, how about…my girl,” he coos with a wink—well, with what you’re assuming is a wink with the way he smirks at you. Despite the deep infatuation you have for him, you would much rather die than let him know that the words he seems to throw out so carelessly into the wind, actually mean much more to you. So, you do whatever you can to make him believe that you’d rather kiss a Hilichurl than be with him. 

“Definitely not.” 

“Ah, what a shame. I think that one suits you quite well,” he all but purrs. 

Despite the fact that your expression remains neutral, you can feel the heat slowly filling your cheeks. God, he knows just what to say and do to make you flustered. 

“You’re going on a mission with me, by the way,” you say suddenly to change the subject, starting to walk away from the man. He follows after you and catches up with ease, his longer legs giving him an unfair advantage. 

“Oh? How exciting. What will we be doing?” he asks, looking around at the people passing by the two of you. 

“Jean will explain later,” you brush off, stopping at the flower shop to gaze at all the pretty flowers. To your surprise, Kaeya picks one up, tosses a coin onto the table, and gently places the flower behind your ear after snapping the stem off. 

“Well, I can’t wait to hear the details,” he says softly, his breath fanning across your face at the close proximity between the two of you. It smells minty. “Catch ya later, Princess,” he whispers before shooting you a wink and walking away, presumably to the Knights of Favonius Headquarters. You sigh and head towards the exit of Mondstadt, deciding that you’ll do a little bit of walking before meeting up with him again to decide on your packing situation. 

As you’re strolling down along the dirt paths, you can’t help but feel as though a pair of eyes are following each and every movement you make. Though this isn’t exactly a new feeling, seeing as how everyone knows who you are and they always stare, this…this is different. It feels…sinister. It has you on edge as you look around for any possible danger. When you don’t find anything amiss within the nice and peaceful scenery around you though, you chalk it up to it being nothing more than your imagination as you continue on your walk. 

“We should go get some more firewood before it gets dark.”

“I can go get some if you want to finish setting up the tent,” you say to Kaeya, standing from your crouched position to stretch your limbs. 

“Are you sure? It’ll be getting dark soon,” he says softly, standing up as well. 

“What? Afraid I can’t handle myself?” you ask as you raise a brow, cocking a hip out. 

“Definitely not that, Princess. I know that you are more than capable of taking care of yourself.” 

“Good. Then I’ll be right back,” you say with a grin and a wink before spinning around on your heel to walk off into the woods. As you pick up logs and sticks, you feel just like you had been feeling all day. Like someone is watching you. You can’t place your finger on what it is though. It feels gentle, like a bird that’s just curiously watching you, but it also feels dangerous, like a monster that’s getting ready for an attack. 

As you continue walking around your campsite and picking up wood, you start to get more and more nervous. It starts with a stick breaking nearby, your gaze staring off into the dark to try and see what it could possibly be. When you find nothing, you brush it off as a rabbit and go about your task. After that though, it’s brush scraping together. Your hair stands up on your neck at this one, your ears trying to pick up more after it stops. You find nothing though. You’re just about ready to call out to either address your potential threat or to let Kaeya know you might have company when a hand claps over your mouth. 

You instantly drop the wood, your fight or flight response kicking in. Before you could do any real harm though, a mouth is suddenly brushing against your ear as a familiar voice speaks. 

“Well, that’s no way to say hello to an old friend, is it?” A shiver goes through your body at the familiar words. Your body immediately slumps against your attacker, which turns out to not be an attacker at all. 

“Jesus Christ, Childe. Covering my mouth so I won’t scream isn’t exactly a friendly ‘hello’ either,” you sass, spinning around to glare up at him. You’re just met with a cocky smirk and eyes full of mirth. 

“Oh, come now. I had to do that. Otherwise, you would’ve let pretty boy there know that I’m here.” At the mention of your partner for the mission, you turn your head to find Kaeya setting up a fire pit. Good, he didn’t hear you guys. You two are pretty far away, but still close enough to see Kaeya and the sparking fire. 

“What are you doing here anyway?” you hiss, turning your gaze back to the ginger. 

“I missed you,” he pouts, moving to wrap his arms around your waist. You let him, but still roll your eyes at him. 

“Bullshit. What are you really doing here?”

“Bullshit? Well, it’s not a lie that I miss that sweet pussy of yours,” he purrs into your ear, sending a thrill up your spine. You shove at his chest, coming to your senses in time. 

“Kaeya is right there and I can’t be caught frolicking with the enemy,” you whisper-shout. He hums and despite the sweet sound, his face drops into one of malice. 

“Yeah, I can see that. Are you finally going to tell him how you feel?” You blush at the question, feeling the heat go up to your ears even. He’s the only other person who knows about your crush on him, and it was a mistake to tell him. He constantly teases you about it. 

“No,” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest to feel more in control. 

“Well then, I don’t think he’ll mind if I steal you away for a little bit.” 

“It’s not about that.” 

“Then what is it about, doll?” 

“I told you to stop calling me that.” 

“What, do you prefer slut? Whore? No? How about…princess?” You gasp at the pet name, staring up at him with wide, shocked eyes. 

“You heard that?” 

“Of course I did, doll. I hear everything.” 

“Childe, you need to go.”

“Can’t do that.” 

“This isn’t a game.” 

“I’m sorry, but do you not remember how our agreement came to be?”

You watch on as Kaeya flirts with the merchant, your chest tightening uncomfortably at the sight. You can feel your gaze fill with green, the horrid monster eating away at your heart and soul. 

Jealousy. 

You’d give anything to stop crushing on the captain, anything at all. You jump when someone clears their throat behind you, making you spin around to come face to face with Childe. You go to pull out your weapon but he stops your hand by grabbing ahold of your wrist. 

“Come now, that’s no way to greet a friend, is it?” 

You squint your eyes at the man, your knuckles turning white from how hard you’re gripping your weapon. “What do you want, Childe? I’m not going to fall for any more of your petty tricks.”

“Now now, no tricks. I actually have a proposition for you.” You raise a brow at this, letting your weapon go but his hand just slides up your arm. “I see the way you look at him, you know.” Despite the fact that he didn’t say a name, you know exactly who he’s talking about. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” you lie, trying not to blush. 

“Yes you do, don’t lie. Lying is a sin, you know,” he teases you with a devilish smirk. 

“As if that ever stopped you.” 

He mockingly pouts at your words, his free hand that isn’t nearing your shoulder going to his heart. “Your words wound, (Y/n), truly.” You roll your eyes at his dramatics and shrug his hand off, glancing over your shoulder to make sure that Kaeya, or anyone else for that matter, hasn’t seen you talking to him. 

“What do you want?” you ask again. He huffs and drops both of his arms to place them into his pants’ pockets. 

“How about you leave with me right now and find out?” he purrs, suddenly bringing his face dangerously close to yours. And despite the fact that you’re on a mission with your crush and it’s time-sensitive and Childe is the bad guy and it’s the absolute wrong thing to do…you do it. You glance once more at Kaeya before nodding your head, letting Childe smirk that dangerous smirk of his as he grabs your hand and tugs you away from the man of your dreams. 

“Our agreement is that we can have fun with each other, no strings attached so that you can get over your crush on Golden Boy.” You gasp when his hand suddenly goes around your throat and pushes you into the tree right behind you. “And as it so happens, I need that tight cunt around my fat cock right now.” You whine as he slots his leg in between yours, pressing his thigh right against your heat. 

“Childe,” you stutter out, body filling with unbearable heat. 

“Yes?” 

“Please,” you whimper. You weren’t a hundred percent sure what you were asking for, but you’re hoping that he gets the message of we can’t do this here, you need to go. He, of course, gets the exact opposite message. 

“Oh, well since you asked so nicely.” He then dives down and connects your lips with his. You’ve always imagined what Kaeya would taste like and always figured he’d taste like mint. With Childe though, he’s the exact opposite. He tastes like cinnamon; spicy, hot cinnamon. Both are good, but you can’t figure out which you like more. 

You moan into his mouth as he moves your hips for you, making you grind your pussy up against his leg. “God, you’re so infuriating,” he says in between kisses, making you almost laugh at the irony. He’s the one who is infuriating. “I oughtta make you scream my name so loud that even the people in Mondstadt hear you. I want pretty boy to hear it, hear you moaning my name as I fuck my seed into you.” 

You’re horrified by the sound you just made. It shouldn’t turn you on to think of what your crush would do if he caught you with the enemy. Would he pull Childe off of you and fight him? Would he throw you in jail for fornicating with the enemy? Would he smirk and watch Childe fuck you raw? Would he want to join? 

You gasp at the image that just filled your brain, your back arching as your body shakes with ecstasy. “Did…did you just cum?” Childe asks, voice filled with astonishment. You shake your head despite the fact that your entire body is quivering and you can barely open your eyes. Wow, that really did it for you, huh. “You dirty little slut. You were thinking about him, weren’t you?” he growls, tightening his grip on your throat. You moan despite the fact that you’re shaking your head. “Oh, I’m sure that’s true, honey,” he sarcastically replies before tugging you forward and over to a fallen tree. 

He pushes you forward and makes you bend over it, your ass getting slapped as soon as your chest hits the wood. “Childe, please,” you beg, whimpering as he tugs your pants and undies down in one fell swoop. 

“Please what?” he hisses, bringing his thumbs inside your thighs and spreading your lips for him to look at your glistening folds. You groan and press your forehead into the thick, fallen tree, trying to find the right words. You’re so horny right now, but you know it’s a risk to do this with Kaeya only a couple hundred feet away. 

“We can’t do this here, not now,” you whine, your body defying your words by going up on your tippy-toes when one of his thumbs slips into your drooling hole. 

“Oh? You seem a little too eager for someone who doesn’t want to do this right now,” he purrs teasingly, lazily dropping his finger in and out of your hole. Your body shakes as you pull your head up to look at Kaeya, who is now sitting in front of a fire. God, all it’ll take for him to spot you is a moan a little too loud. You can see it now. He’ll look in your direction and move his head this way and that to try and spot the source in the darkness right before his eyes meet yours. 

You moan when you suddenly feel full, your back arching and making your ass rise higher. While you were daydreaming, Childe prepped you and just slid right between your tight walls. “Childe,” you mewl, digging your nails into the bark and scraping some off with the force. 

“That’s it, Princess. Moan nice and loud for me,” he purrs before starting to thrust with more momentum. Your eyes roll back into your head as your mouth falls open in a silent moan, the light clap of his hips meeting your ass making you paranoid that you’ll get caught. 

“What, that all you got?” he hisses before leaning forward to grab your throat and tug you up. Your whimper gets cut off by the tight grip on your neck, your eyes watching Kaeya look around him with a worried look on his face. Great, while you’re here getting your guts rearranged, he’s worrying about you. 

Your eyes lose sight of him when they roll back into your skull, another orgasm approaching you at a fast pace. A gurgled moan escapes you as Childe starts going faster when he feels you clench around him. “You gonna cum? Huh? Is my slutty princess going to cream all over my cock?” With him growling the words out at you in between groans and grunts, it was no surprise that you ended up doing just that. 

He hisses when you squeeze his dick like a glove, causing his hips to stutter as he reaches his own orgasm. He pushes his member as far in as it’ll go before throwing his head back and letting his seed go deep inside you. You both slump forward and lean on the big log, his hands lazily running up and down your sides. His breath fans across the back of your neck as he pants for air, his chest rising and falling against your back. You bring your head up to look at Kaeya, finding him starting to stand up and head in the direction that you first disappeared in. 

“I have to go,” you hiss, lightly elbowing Childe to get him to back up. He grunts and pushes himself off your back, his dick still remaining inside you though. 

“Why? Don’t want the perfect prince to see you?” Childe grumbles. You huff and go up on your hands, looking at him over your shoulder with a glare. 

“I’m serious. You have to go. You know what kind of trouble this could bring.” 

“Trouble is my middle name, sweetheart,” Chide purrs to you with a smirk. When you don’t budge and you remain glaring at him, Childe rolls his eyes. His cock is finally pulled out of you, but before you can even blink, he’s pulling your panties up before any of his seed has time to slip out of you. You make a face as you feel it drip out of you and soak your once clean panties. 

“Really?” you ask with a sigh, moving to pull your pants up. 

“What? I thought it was a nice touch,” he teases, stuffing himself back into his boxers before buckling his pants up. It’s your turn to roll your eyes this time, your hands attempting to fix your hair as you watch Kaeya disappear behind some trees. “Besides,” he starts, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your back to his chest once more, “you’ve never complained about me filling that greedy pussy before,” he purrs against the shell of your ear. You shiver right before you lightly elbow him and step out of his arms. 

“Well, I am now,” you growl, bending down to pick up the sticks you had collected earlier. You don’t see it, but Childe’s face scrunches up into something nasty and vindictive. It’s a warning in of itself. Too bad you didn’t see it. 

“Oh yeah? And I wonder why that is,” he replies “casually,” wiping the look he had on his face away right before you look up at him. 

“Chi-”

“Ooh! I know why! Pick me, pick me!” he says a little too loudly for your comfort as he jumps up and down with one arm raised in the air, resembling the kid he’s acting like. 

“Stop acting like an immature child and go home,” you hiss, quickly standing up and lightly shoving his chest in the opposite direction of your camp. He stumbles a bit, but the stupid bastard has good reflexes and catches himself with ease.

“Why don’t you just give up on Golden Boy? He’ll never be interested in you the way you are in him,” he replies as he checks his nails, completely ignoring your advice. Your face falls at his words before scrunching up in anger. 

“Yeah? And what do you know about it, hm? Should I just spend the rest of my life having sex with you?” you practically growl. 

Truth is, you know he’s right. Kaeya will never understand the butterflies that fill your stomach when he speaks or the way your heart threatens to beat out of your chest when he gets too close to you. He’ll never understand that mint is one of your favorite smells or blue is one of your favorite colors because of him. 

Then again, Childe’s eyes are also blue…

“Why not? At least with me you’ll actually feel something real,” he says as he looks up from his nails to look at you. He finds your face is crestfallen, your eyes staring at the ground. 

“What I feel for him is real. I don’t care if he never feels the same. Just being near him as his friend is enough for me,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around your middle. After that, you both remain quiet for a few moments. 

Just as Childe sighs and takes a step towards you, there’s a snap of a stick near you two. “(Y/n)? Are you over here?” You spin around to find Kaeya emerging from some trees, a relieved smile coming to his face as he looks you over. “Hey, what’s taking so long? A guy could die o-” He stops when he sees the look on your face. It’s like a mix of horror and guilt. “Hey, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” he asks as he hurries over to you. 

You look over your shoulder to make eye contact with Childe, wondering what lies you two can spin this time. Only, you can’t make eye contact with him because no one is there. Where did he go? Your eyes look this way and that, but you can’t spot him. “-n)? (Y/n)? Hey, (Y/n)!” Your head snaps back forward and your eyes find Kaeya, who had gotten increasingly closer to your body and has placed his hands onto your shoulders. “What is it? Is there a monster? Are you hurt?” he asks question after question, your ears and brain barely having time to register them all. 

“What? Yeah, Kaeya, I’m fine. I’m okay. Deep breaths,” you brush off, lightly teasing him. He lets out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding as he wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you into a hug. Now, this isn’t the first time you’ve hugged him, but this is a rare occurrence, something that only ever happens on a blue moon. 

“Jeez, don’t scare a guy like that,” he breathes into your ear, holding you tight. You wrap your arms around his neck, trying to ignore the fact that his arms are right where Childe’s had been only five minutes prior. Your heart has no problem performing gold medal-worthy gymnastics in your chest though, the sound reverberating in your ears. That was close, way too close. 

“You look cold,” he says as he pulls back, rubbing his hands up and down your arms with a smile. “C’mon, let’s get you back to camp,” he says softly. You nod and go to pick up your sticks when he catches you moving to get them. He swipes them up in his arms with a smirk in your direction. You never let him help you with such minimal tasks since you like to prove to him why they call you The Honorary Knight. Plus, it’s just bad for your poor heart’s health. 

“I can carry them, you know,” you say with a smile, not bothering to try and take them from him. You’d have to fight tooth and nail just to be able to get them back. 

“Well, what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t carry a lady’s sticks?” he jokes, hefting the wood further up in his hold. You just roll your eyes at him with a laugh through your nose as you walk back to where you two set up camp. 

Unbeknownst to you, another pair of blue eyes never left your form as you smile, giggle, and flirt away with the true enemy. He’s consumed by green, but he can’t let you know that just yet. Childe still has the upper hand in this arrangement, and he plans on keeping it that way.

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[nathanbatemanfucker]

FTL - Part 2: BLEEDING

gif by @hunterschafer

summary: this is the opening of new wounds, the deepening of old ones.

characters: fem!reader x javier peña, steve murphy, mentions of connie and messina

contents: 18+/nsfw/MINORS DNI, grief, pining, angst, death, mental health, alcohol mention/abuse, smoking

AN: this gets better i swear, but only before it gets just a tad worse. reader and javi have a blowup in the next bit.

word count: 1.8k

series masterlist | misc. masterlist | requests are open

read Part 1: SALOME.

The morning of, you put on the black dress– your designated funeral dress– that’s gotten a decent amount of wear since you moved to Colombia. You’re staring in the mirror, trying to comprehend that you’re wearing this dress not just for anyone. The last 48 hours have been nothing but a blur. You know that this is reality, you’ve cried enough tears to solidify that. The constant ache in your chest helps too, your grief is real, no matter how much your brain refuses it. Your heart knows.

The shrill of your phone makes you jump. A piece of you hopes it's him. The reasonable part of you that knows Javier Peña would never call you feels a twisted sense of satisfaction when you see your younger brother– Ethan’s– name light up the screen.

You give yourself a voiceless pep talk and clear your throat before picking up, “Hey, Ethan.”

“Hey, how are you holding up?” His voice is delicate and low as if he’s speaking to a wounded animal. If it were anyone else, you’d hate it but it's your baby brother, so you let it slide.

“Oh, you know me. I’m fine.”

“I’m not dad, you don’t have to act like everything’s okay. We’re softer, you and me.”

“I’m fine,” You reiterate firmly. The last thing you need is anyone in your family thinking you couldn’t handle something. Even Ethan was prone to falling into your fathers dated way of thinking from time to time.

“Dad says you can come home if you want.”

That makes you laugh for the first time in days, “Yeah, I think I’ll take my chances with assholes down here, at least they’re not my family and I can-“ You stop yourself before you say too much, never wanting Ethan to know just how brutal your job could be at times.

“You can what?” He prompts when silence hangs between you.

“I’ll call you later, I’m gonna be late to the funeral.”

His protests are silenced when you hang up, setting your phone on do not disturb. You know Ethan will tell your father word for word what you’ve said, but he thinks he knows best and will call to tell you that. He thinks he knows everything, it's why your mother’s death hit so hard. It's why you ended up at the college furthest away. It's on the list of reasons why you took this job. If there was anyone who could get you through today it would be your mother. The unresolved grief attached to losing her isn’t making this any easier, it's only making functioning worse.

The cherry on top of all of this is that Javier doesn’t even come to the funeral. You shouldn't be surprised, he’s said before that he doesn’t do funerals but you’d think with the amount of guilt that was on his face when you saw him that he’d show. For some stupid reason, you thought that he’d do this for you since he’d already failed; you thought you would be an exception. Maybe the exception. Instead of admitting it hurts, his absence just further fuels your anger. Salome deserves his presence, he owes her his respects. So do you.

Everyone says really nice words. They coat all your senses in this sickly sweet layer of comfort that’ll melt away once you’re all alone again. Murphy stands beside you the entire, his hand coming over to rub your back in a consoling gesture every time a sob racks your body. Eventually, your cries come often enough that his hand doesn’t leave. It would be embarrassing if you weren't engulfed in it.

This is the opening of new wounds, the deepening of old ones. It feels like a reminder from some deity above: you are broken, no matter what good you do. You'll never be the same no matter how much you run.

You’ve written a few words and as her partner, you know you have to pull it together and say them. Not just for yourself, but because Salome’s family can’t even be here. For all intents and purposes, you are her family. Once it's your turn, Murphy helps you around to the other side of her casket so that you’re facing the scores of people here to pay your respects. The piece of paper that you’ve written on is worn; you’ve folded and unfolded it too many times to count, staring at the words, still unable to accept that they’re real. You take a deep breath, and your eyes scan the crowd one last time just in case he’s decided to prove you wrong. He hasn’t, and you start to read.

“Salome means peace, and it was fitting. She had this calm about her even in the most harrowing situations that just made you feel like everything would be okay. My last conversation with her was one where she comforted me, where she tried to be my peace like she had been so many times before. She went out exactly how she wanted, in the throes of battle, fighting for the peace that Colombia deserves. And while she’s found hers already, it's our job to keep her alive by pushing on. To Salome, and all she was and will forever be.”

When the funeral’s over Murphy and Connie try to get you to come back to their place but you want to be alone. You want to hear Sal’s laugh again. You want the tender touch of your mother’s arms around you. Messina calls you shortly after you’re home from the funeral, tells you to take a few days off and you happily oblige.

There are bottles upon bottles of wine in your fridge, it was you and Sal’s thing, drinking a bottle together before heading to a local bar to listen to the live music there or dance with the guys that always wanted more. You can never go back there, the thought of being in that place without her makes your stomach turn. Staring at the wine in the fridge, you decide you need something stronger. Something that’ll knock away the overwhelming grief that sits on your shoulders quickly unlike the soothing sweetness of wine.

You hit the liquor store just around the corner, figuring that a few bottles of whiskey will do. It's the same kind that was in Murphy’s desk, the same kind that Javier had put him on to because he always questioned Murphy’s taste. You stuff down the thoughts about him, as you shuffle into your apartment, throwing all but one of the bottles in the freezer.

Whiskey’s your new crutch as you ply yourself with it, day after day. It comes out of the freezer ice cold and heats your body with a sting that makes you forget. But, that reprieve is only temporary and leaves you with migraines and a stomach that can’t hold anything down. The cool tile of the bathroom floor becomes your bedroom.

When you chance a look in the mirror after a four-day bender you realize you’ve got to get your shit together no matter how much it hurts. If Salome saw you like this she’d kick your ass, not to mention what your mother would think.

So after one last long swing, you pour the rest of the liquor down the drain. The shower you take afterward is thorough. You scrub at your skin until it’s raw, and massage your shampoo into your scalp until your migraine has subsided significantly. When you look in the mirror again it’s not so bad, not on the outside. It makes you look presentable, ready to take on the job and whatever else, even if the grief is bleeding out of your eyes.

The days run into each other a little less once you’re back at work. Messina had been kind and told you to take as much time as you want but after 5 days of drowning your sorrows and letting them swallow you whole, you were itching to get back to something that would take your mind off of the loss. If this kept your mind off your mother, it could work Salome too, couldn’t it?

Javier blames himself even though logically he shouldn’t. He had nothing to do with intel, it’d been checked and he went in just as blind as everyone else. But he told you that he would bring Salome back. Since he’s been in Colombia he tries to keep his word; he broke it enough back at home.

“Have you talked to her?” Javier asks as he pours Murphy a drink, sliding it across the table to him.

Her meaning you. He’s found himself glancing at the window around the time you would leave for work. He’s stared at the phone, tried to build up the courage to call you. It always ends with him listening to the dial tone before turning to the bottle. He doesn’t know what he would say to you anyways.

Murphy shakes his head, lighting a cigarette, “Not much, she’s not doing so well. She’s focused on working and nothing else, hardly goes home.”

“Mmm,” His eyebrows raise before he throws back his own drink, refilling the glass quickly.

“She looks like hell, but you’ll see with your own two eyes. She’ll be here next week.”

He tries not to look too alarmed at the thought of you here, “What for?”

“Messina’s making us take turns taking care of your ass,” Murphy offers him a cigarette and he gladly takes it, his nerves all over the place at the sight of you outside of his door.

He breathes in the smoke and it feels like pins are sinking into his ribs. The pressure’s only slightly relieved when he blows out, “Sure she is.”

Fucking Messina. Javier trusts her and respects her but sometimes she’s a little much for him. This is one of those times.

“Have you tried to talk to her?”

They both know the answer to that. Javier doesn’t even have to vocalize it.

They sit there for a while in comfortable silence, the heaviness of all the unspoken emotion sitting between them. This is how Javier deals, keeping it bottled up with a drink and light in hand. Murphy learned this lesson about Javi early on. This is what he needs, he can’t push talking and processing on him unless he wants to end up further away from him than where he started.

By the time he leaves he’s successfully strong-armed Javi into taking the pain medication that’s gone untouched. He would prefer to drink but figures Murphy’s right. He’ll attempt to not mix the substances tomorrow, though he doesn’t know if he can go a day without downing the amber liquid even if he wanted to.

Javi’s hoping that Murphy is wrong. He’s hoping that in your growing contempt for him that you’ve made someone else take up the task of dropping off the things he needs on your designated week. He can hardly face himself, he has no idea how to face you.

read Part 3: IN THE STARS.

if you’d like to be on my pedro pascal characters taglist lmk!

javi taglist: @lesbianhotch, @honeybrowne, @hotchs-bitch, @jazzelsaur, @bubblybubbubs

[cosmiclunarprincess-fanfic]

Whatever You Want

A/N:  My first Hawks fic omg I’m so excited. The smut could've been longer but I was tired writing this. I know most of the time Hawks is depicted as being super aggressive and dominant during his rut but I wanted to try a different approach. I hope you guys enjoy this subby Hawks meal because I know I sure did. Love you all !!!!!

Fandom: Hawks, MHA

Pairing: Hawks x Reader

Warnings: I’m not the best when it comes to following writing rules. I pretty much write how I want to, so if you’re a stickler for grammar and what not just ignore it or don’t read loll (I’m nice I promise.) SMUT SMUT SMUT

(Word Count: )

Plot: Spring has hit and Hawks is entering his rut. He is desperate for any type of release.

        Spring is here. The weather is great and everyone is in a wonderful mood. Well, almost everyone. My phone continuously vibrates in my lap, my screen lighting up with text after text and call after missed call from my boyfriend. I feel bad not answering him but I have things to do and unfortunately he’s going to have to wait for a while. I sat at my desk trying my best to complete all the work I had left before I left for the day. Heat began to emanate from my phone from the sheer number of notifications coming through. All from one person. Keigo goes through this rut every spring. He told me about it when we first began dating and even though we've been together for two years this is the first time I'm going through it with him. Last year I was in another country on a very important mission. I had to stay on the phone with him for hours while he jerked himself off, saying lewd and obscene things.

        He made me promise not to go on any missions that would take me away from him this year. I replied to the last of my emails for the day before closing my computer. As I made my way out the door of my busy office I said my goodbyes to all my co-workers. When I finally got to my car I sighed trying to release all the stress I had built up. The engine of my car revved to life, I backed out of my parking space and drove out onto the road. I used a voice command to call Keigo back as I drove. I just know he’s gonna be pissed.

“Babybird, where have you been all day? I've been calling you nonstop. Why didn't you pick up the phone?” His voice shook as he spoke.

“I’m so sorry babe but I had to finish my work and I didnt want to get distracted. I’m on my way home to you now, don't worry.”

        I could hear him shifting in the bed. Probably trying to get comfortable while he waited for me.

“Hurry. Please. I want you so bad. I don’t even know what to do with myself. All        I can think about is how badly I want to touch you and hear all the noises you make when I’m inside you. Get home now.”

        He hung up before I could even respond. I knew what that meant. I sped home as fast as I could. Once I made it up to our apartment I opened the door to see the place in shambles. Things were all over the place, all the pillows in the living room were gone and ice littered the floor. Slowly I pushed the door open to our room and my vision was instantly blocked by keigo as he rushed me. His hands were all over my body grabbing and squeezing, as if they were searching for any inch of me that wasn't covered by clothing. His mouth crashed into mine. The kiss was desperate and passionate. He nipped at my bottom lip. A small yelp escaped me. His wings fluttered in response.

“Keigo wait - just - I need to - let me just take a shower. I’ll be quick, just give me two minutes.”

“You can shower later. I need you.”

        I squirmed and turned, trying to escape his grasp but no matter what I tried I couldn't get away from him. I’d been at work all day running up and down doing all kinds of things. I felt sweaty and icky and all I wanted to do was wash this long day away before I did anything with him. His lips traveled to my neck. He inhaled deeply taking in my scent.

“Babybird you smell so good just the way you are. You don't need to shower.”

        My resolve to shower started wearing thin as the heat within my core grew. He placed wet open mouth kisses all over my neck. I moaned, pressing my body into his.

“Please baby, I need you. I’m desperate for you right now. My cock is so hard I can feel it pulsating and so much pre cum is leaking out of me, I can't take it.  Please!”

        Hearing him beg was like music to my ears. I love it when he lets go and gives me control. It doesn't happen often but when it does I turn into a different person,

“Okay baby I’ll help you. Take these pants off.”

        As he removed his pants I unbuttoned my dress shirt and allowed it to slide off of me to the floor. My bra followed soon after. Keigo was on me in an instant, his mouth attached to one of my sensitive nipples while his free hand massaged the other. I cradled his head in my hands gently stroking the nape of his neck. He groaned into my chest.

“That feels so good baby.” I said breathlessly as he moved his attention to my other breast.

        My head fell back as I reveled in the feeling of his lips and tongue. His strong hands were wrapped around my waist, pulling me into him. His face was completely engulfed in my chest now.

“Do you like when I hold you like this while your mouth is full with my breast? Hmmm? You like turning me on like that? You wanna be my good boy so badly don’t you?”

        He let out a whine like groan. I felt his body shiver. I could see how frustrated he was but I was enjoying myself too much to give in just yet.

“What’s the matter baby? Are you that worked up you can’t even talk anymore? All you can do is moan and groan? All you want is a little release huh? You want to fuck me until I can’t take anymore, until I’m full with all your cum. Is that it?”

        I gently slid my fingers down one of his wings just to tease him even more.

“Please! Don’t tease me like that (Y/N)  I’m barely holding on here. You’re so fucking hot I just wanna take you right here right now but I also wanna be a such  good boy for you it hurts.”

“Okay baby I think I’ve had my fun. Let me make you feel better.”

        I knelt down in front of Hawks, his swollen erection twitched with anticipation. His eyes darkened with lust as he looked down on me. He probably thought I was going to give him a blow job but I had something else in mind. I took him in my hand, he inhaled sharply at the contact. I allowed the pre cum leaking from his cock to fall onto my chest as I pumped him slowly allowing it to coat my breasts. The sheer amount that came from him shocked me. I’d never seen anything like it. His hips bucked into my hand desperate for more friction. My slow pace made him growl with frustration. I loved teasing him, he always got needy so quickly but I knew it was time to finally give him what he wanted.

        Ever so slowly I guided him in between my breasts and squeezed them together. I opened my mouth to speak but before I could even get the words out he was pumping his cock up and down against my chest. His pace was fast and without thought. His hands gripped my hair pulling it as he used my body for his pleasure.

“It feels s-so good.” He groaned through clenched teeth, throwing his head back

“Look at me. Yes. Is this what you've been craving? Huh? What you've been begging for all day? I know this is what you've been dreaming about. Having your cock between my beautiful soft breasts?”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuk.” He moaned.

        I couldn't help but smile. I had him wrapped around my finger in this moment. I could ask anything of him right now and he’d say yes without hesitation. I loved having this control. It really made me feel so powerful to know that I could make such a dominant man like Hawks bend to my will using only my breasts. I could feel his ��body begin to shiver. His grip on my hair grew even tighter. The veins in his cock bulged and pulsated and I knew he was close.

“If you wanna cum you know what you have to say don't you baby?”

        He hesitated, not wanting to give up that last little piece of control.

“Come on, I know you’re so close. It's right there isnt it. All you have to do is say one thing for me.” I pushed my breasts together even more around him.

“Ahhhhhhhh! Can I cum please?!”

“Please what?”

“Mommy!”

        That’s all it took. His thrusts were hard and rough as he came all over my face and chest. His whole body convulsed and shook. I could hear the ruffeling of his feathers. Once his movements stopped I used my hand to pump him. He groaned as a jolt went through his body. I was shocked. He was so sensitive yet he was still so hard. I looked up at him in disbelief. A chill ran through my body when we made eye contact. The look on his face was unlike any I'd seen before.

“You’ve had your fun with me babybird now it’s my turn.”

[thesafecafe]

Ateez! Reaction: their S/O sneezing while being intimate with them

Request for @racheloveyunho: “I'm dying to know how Ateez would react to their S/O sneezing while being intimate with them? (Like You/N is straddling their lap while making out, the member is about to take Y/N's bra but then she back off and he thinks that he did something wrong but Y/N sneezes like three times in a round) I think it would be funny? 💘”

A/N : I hope you enjoy this one love! I had fun making it! (I am so sorry it took so long, but I promise I didn’t forget you love!)

Slightly suggestive content, fluff, crack, 18+, mentions of/implied sickness. Gif credit to all individual owners!! I did not make any of them.

Seonghwa: 

He had come home from a work, tired and in need of some loving from his precious baby. It started off as a wholesome cuddle session on the couch, with you laying on top of Seonghwa, feeding him strawberries as you listened to him talk about his day. But the more you fed him, the more you got distracted by his lips. You leaned down, only intending to give him a peck, but initiating a full blown, slightly messy, strawberry flavored make out. Just when you were about to start pushing his shirt off, you reeled back, feeling the strong urge to sneeze. You sneezed loud and hard into the sleeve of your sweater. You know the kind of sneezes that hurt your chest and throat? That’s how it was for you. Before you could register what happened, Seonghwa had already went mom mode, rushing to the bathroom for his “emergency sickness” kit. You knew no amount of explaining or objecting would stop him from giving you a thorough “exam,” so you did what any reasonable person would: you made a run for it.

“Just hang on baby! I’ll get the kit! What do you mean you’re not sick- as hard as you sneezed?!  Something is definitely wrong- no Y/N, get back here!”

Hongjoong:

Hongjoong had been in his home studio, taking a break from the song he was writing, when you popped in with lunch for the both of you. You passed him the food, getting a good look at his appearance before sitting next to him. He was wearing a tight black shirt that made his muscles stand out, and shorts that showed off his legs. He noticed you looking, laughing when you saw he caught you. He motioned for you to come to him, the food long forgotten on the couch. You sat in his lap, kissing him fervently as you both started to undress. But when he reached for your bra, you pushed away from him. Concerned, he leaned up to ask what was wrong, but before he could, you let out three of the tiniest sneezes Hongjoong had ever heard in his life. Giggling at your cuteness, he picked you up, carrying you to your shared room.

“Alright princess, it’s my turn to care for you. I’ll get the medicine, that flu’s been going around. You want some soup? Okay, anything for my baby.”

Yunho:

He’d been playing a game when you decided to hang out with him out of boredom. He was getting pretty into the game when you came and straddled his lap, a bowl of fruit in your hand. He adjusted himself so that you could sit comfortably before going back to the game. You fed him as he did his thing, giving him small pecks in between. When Yunho was finished, he smiled down at you, sneaking his hand up your shirt, pushing you closer so he could kiss you.  But before too much of anything could happen, you felt a force start coming up from your lungs and the back of your throat, and suddenly, you flew back out of Yunho’s lap. You sneezed once, twice more as you rolled down the hall way, Yunho running after you and giggling. He thought you looked like a hamster, rolling endlessly as if you were in a ball. Once he caught up to you, he picked you up, making sure you were okay before heading back to your shared bedroom.

“Is my little hamster girl sick? Aww, don’t pout baby. You want me to make you a snack? Netflix, ramen, and cuddles sound okay?”

Yeosang:

He was reading his book in his room, sitting in the armchair next to the bed. It was his afternoon routine to drink his tea and read his book, and no one was to disturb him. That is, unless it was you. You had special privileges being his girlfriend and all, but you knew there was a limit to his patience. But you missed your boyfriend, and you had a plan. Under the pretense of bringing him some snacks to go with his tea, you walked in quietly. You set the tray down on the side table next to him, but before you could say anything, you felt yourself being pulled down into Yeosang’s lap. You felt his breath touch the back of your neck as he spoke, expressing how much he missed you. But as you were getting down to business, you sneezed. Yeosang paused, uncertain as to what had just happened. But when you sneezed again, he was playfully offended.

“You know, if you don’t want my kisses, you could just say that. You don’t have to sneeze on my favorite shirt.”

San:

You were already sick, stuck in your apartment with a a bad cold and a despicable cough. You were on your couch, swaddled in a blanket, with your tissues on the table next to you. You put your phone on dnd because the notifications were driving you crazy, and you had a headache. You turned on Netflix to play in the background as you read a book, missing all the calls and texts of your worried boyfriend. San came rushing over to your apartment, his mind running a mile a minute. Had something happened to you? Did he do something wrong? He used the spare key he had to get in, calling your name. “Y/N! Oh my God, baby, are you all right? I was so worried, you didn’t answer my call like usual-” He started checking you over, kissing you when he saw nothing was wrong. But due to his shirt having brushed against your nose, you felt a tickle in the back of your throat before you started sneezing rapid fire. You couldn’t even warn poor San before you pushed him off of you and over your coffee table and onto the floor.

“Ouch! Oh you’re sick! You could’ve said that before breaking my tailbone y’know. Guess Seonghwa will have to care for us both”

Mingi:

You wanted to kiss him you really did, But your allergy season was upon you, and you could barely be around Mingi, because all he wore at home was polyester material clothing. He knew you had a long list of allergies, but he didn’t know you were allergic to his clothes. He’d been upset that every time he tried to come near you at home, you’d run off as if he were the plague. Finally sitting you down, he asked you what was wrong. “Do you not love me anymore?” His sad pout broke your heart. You leaned in, kissing him, but reeled back as soon as your lips touched, your eyes watering as you sneezed. “It’s not you baby, it’s your clothes. I’m allergic to the material.” His face lit up in relief. You didn’t hate him, just his clothes!

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll go change! And I’ll go shopping next week to get more Y/N friendly clothes” He giggled, running off to change.

Wooyoung:

He’d been trying to spend time with you all week after the boys came back from their recent promotions, but it seemed like things were against you two from the start. First, there were schedule conflicts, then his dog got sick, he had 5 different interviews to shoot, and he had to film his artist of the month video for CHOOM. When you both finally got to see each other, it was at an Award show the boys were attending, and even then you couldn’t sit with him because of all the fans and cameras flashing, But when he got back to his dressing room, you were there, waiting to greet him. “Finally! I’ve got you all to myself~” he purred, coming and trapping you near the wall. You wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him down for a kiss, but before he registered what was happening you let him go, turning to sneeze into the sleeve of your dress, coughing afterwards. Wooyoung stared in disbelief, knowing exactly what it was. There had been a big going around all evening among the female idols, and you’d been sitting near Twice during the event.

“Are you kidding me? You just had to be next to Tzuyu and Mina didn’t you? Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Jongho:

You were his love interest in a drama. Everyone thought it was a great idea: you were already dating, so it shouldn’t be hard for you two to play the side couple in a show. You were supposed to be filming a steamy make out scene, and you were doing a pretty good job so far, saying your lines and keeping the suspense of the scene going. That is, until the kissing part came up. You stood in front of Jongho, hands tangling in his hair as you feverishly kissed his lips. He held you just as tight, kissing you just as passionately, when it came time for your lines. :Do you trust me?” Jongho said on cue, waiting for your response. But all he got in response were three of the loudest sneezes he’d heard in life. The entire film crew, along with Jongho, roared with laughter. Jongho fell on the ground, holding his sides, making you giggle at his antics. 

“I guess that’s a no then?”

[fangirl-writes]

Ghost of You

Calum Hood x Reader

Warning(s): death, mourning, Calum crying on stage. Angst.

Notes: I saw a video on tiktok of Cal singing his heart out to this song so here we are. Not revised, written in one session.

Summary: Based on the song Ghost Of You. 

The boys were hesitant to keep the tour dates after what happened. Everyone needs time and they thought that the space between the accident and the first show wasn’t long enough.

But Calum disagreed. He assured his bandmates that he would have no trouble by the time the show came around.

They were skeptical, argued with him to the contrary, but Calum just looked at them with tears in his brown eyes and said, “Please. Please let me do this. She would have wanted me to do what I love.”

They didn’t argue after that.

Calum woke up the morning before they hit the road facing the side of the bed that would never be filled again.

He can’t sleep there. He hasn’t even made an effort to make the bed, holding on to the last outlines of where you had once been.

The sheets were ruffled and the comforter was pushed near the end of the bed, your pillow was propped up against the headboard where you had been sitting, drinking out of your coffee cup.

The coffee cup that still sat on the bedside table just next to your side of the bed.

A small tear fell from Calum’s eye as he noticed the ever fading lipstick stain on the rim. A subtle, but pretty pink that you always wore. The one that would sometimes stain his cheek before he went out on stage.

He wiped the tear and tried to smile.

Oh, what you’d say if you could speak to him now. “Wipe those tears away, Cal. You’ll be just fine.”

I’ll be just fine. Calum thought. Eventually, I’ll be just fine.

He got up from the bed, not bothering to prepare himself for the day yet.

His suitcases sat fully packed by the door; ready to be loaded onto the tour bus for the next few months.

He always had more suitcases than you did, for obvious reasons. But he swore you could fit everything you owned in that one little suitcase. A suitcase that wouldn’t be used again, and probably wouldn’t leave the closet.

Calum sighed, pushing away the thoughts and walking out of the bedroom. Trying to drown the thoughts of you out, like he always did, trying to think of anything else.

But he found walking down that hallway to make it especially hard.

In that hallway, in those photos, he swears he can see the ghost of you.

The first one hanging there is a picture of you and him that he used to find almost hilarious to behold. It was an older one, back when they were just getting big and he was still a teenager, it was one of you and him, taken when you were just a fan. Someone Calum didn’t think he’d probably ever see again.

But life works in mysterious ways.

The one across from that was the most recent, it was a selfie you took at Michael and Crystal’s wedding. Your tongue was hanging out of your mouth and you’d made you eyes cross, Calum was making a duck face, doing the same to his eyes.

It never failed to make him laugh.

Next was your first paparazzi appearance. You joked it was your claim to fame, being followed and snapped in a professional photo with Cal. It wasn’t anything special, really. Just a picture of the two of you walking down a street in L.A, holding hands and decked out in what was probably your laziest outfits ever. Calum had on a dark pair of sunglasses and you were smiling up at him, probably about to crack a joke to get that stoic look off his face.

The rest were either family photos, photos of him and the boys, you and your friends, or just silly pictures of the two of you together.

He tried to walk as fast through that hall as he could, trying to keep the tears from reaching his eyes.

But he couldn’t take them down. It might kill him.

He made it to the kitchen with little resistance and poured himself his own cup of coffee, trying to focus on the upcoming tour and not think about you.

He had deleted social media off his phone. He couldn’t take the constant notifications and reminders and apologies from fans. They missed you too, but Calum missed you an ungodly amount more.

He frowned when he saw the empty vodka bottle sitting on his kitchen counter. God his place was a mess. He needed to at least clean up before he left, maybe that’d get his mind off things.

Put on some music. Yeah, that’d be okay.

He finished his cup of coffee, washing the mug before hurrying off to get the other tasks finished before he had to leave.

He took out the trash, cleaned out the fridge, put away his dishes, swept the floors, vacuumed the floors, cleaned the windows, dusted the shelves.

All that was left was laundry.

He made it to the laundry room easily. But once he was in there, nothing was harder.

He filled a load with his dirty clothes, turning on the machine before tentatively reaching for the basket that held yours.

He blinked back tears when he noticed the old Zeppelin shirt sitting in there. The one that your wore when you ran away, and no one could feel your hurt.

“He’s a rockstar,” your family had said. “it won’t last.”

“I’m in love with him,” you had replied.

Too young, too dumb, to know things like love. Calum thought with a shake of his head. What did they know? But I know better, now.

Calum went through the rest of your clothes, a memory surfacing for almost each one. A old 5sos merch shirt that you’d worn on your first date, not even thinking about it. A pair of music note socks that he had a matching pair of. A pair of skinny jeans you had a love-hate relationship with. A white bra that you had thrown on stage at one of their concerts as a joke, only for it to end up catching on the neck of Calum’s bass.

He smiled at the memory. His entire face had gone bright red and he had looked down at you with an almost scandalized look. The other boys had to stop the song because they were laughing too hard.

He let your clothes lay back in the hamper after he was done. He didn’t see a reason to wash them yet.

But he tucked that old Zeppelin shirt into his travel bag.

He loaded his bags into the back of Michael’s car, ready to head to the bus. Crystal waved at him from the passenger seat, he waved back.

“You got your keys?”

Calum blinked, not even realizing he was going to need those now. “I didn’t even lock the door,”

Michael laughed, pushing his friend lightly towards his house again. “Go get them.”

Calum chuckled back, hurrying to do so.

It hadn’t even dawned on him that you wouldn’t be there to watch the house, that he needed to lock the door. He had already sent Duke to stay at Luke and Sierra’s but locking his door? He’d never even thought of it.

He grabbed his keys before pausing.

Yours were hanging there, too. A keychain with your initials on it dangling next to the keys.

He grabbed those instead.

“You ready for this, mate?” Ashton asked him as he slid into the back seat.

“Yeah,” Calum said, softly, caressing the keychain with his thumb. “Yeah, I am.”

And as Michael took off, looking back at his house, Calum could’ve sworn he saw the ghost of you.

***

The night was going great so far, the crowd was pumped up, screaming and hollering.

Cal had managed to get lost in the music, forgetting about his problems for hours.

Until the song he had been dreading all night.

He almost asked if they could take it off the setlist after he saw it.

But then they’d have given the sad, almost pitying look that they did when they talked about canceling the tour. And he didn’t think he could stand those looks again.

He took a deep breath as the piano notes began. He could do this.

“Let’s see those lights up in your hands,” Luke said, holding his arm up.

Calum reached his microphone and his breath caught in his throat.

Someone was holding a picture of you up. Almost as if they knew.

His eyes darted to a different part of the crowd only to find an even larger poster being held up and illuminated by the stage lights. It read your name, your birthday, and the day you-

Calum looked away again, trying to blink back tears.

“Wow look at all those-” Luke voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Wow, you guys, this is...”

There were maybe hundreds of posters or photos being held up now along with the phone lights.

“You know, this is my first concert without her in a long time,” Calum found himself saying into the mic. “And this way she’s still here. Thank you guys. Thank you so much.”

The fans cried out in response and Calum cleared his throat, saying to his bandmates away from the mic. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Singing the song, Cal hadn’t realized how much it fit his situation until just then. He hoped it wasn’t some screwed up sort of fate that they would write this song and then he would lose you.

“So I drown it out like I always do,” Luke sang. “Dancing through our house...”

“With the ghost of you,” Calum chimed in, mind filled with thoughts of you. He didn’t drown them out this time, he just let them come.

“And I chase it down, with a shot of truth. Dancing through our house, with the ghost of you,”

“Too young... too dumb... to know things like love,” He could feel the tears falling down his cheeks. “Too young... too dumb...”

“You go!” Luke shouted, allowing the crowd to sing the chorus.

“So I drown it out like I always do,” They sang and Calum hung his head back, trying to hide his tears as he listened. “Dancing through our house. with the ghost of you.”

You would have loved this. You would have said that it gave you chills, hearing the crowd sing such a haunting song back to them.

“And I chase it down with a shot of truth. That my feet don't dance...”

“Like they did with you.” Luke sang the last line with the crowd before the stage went black and Calum rushed off to the side of the stage.

The boys followed quickly, wrapping him in a hug after they reached him, and for the first time since you’d been gone, Calum let himself just cry. He didn’t push it down or wipe his tears, he just cried. He let his best friends hold him and he cried.

But just there, like everywhere, wrapped in the arms of his friends, Calum could have sworn he felt the ghost of you.

[mionemymind]

Chapter 3: The Harsh Treatment

Fake Memories

Series Summary: After Y/n is caught cheating on Wanda with Carol, Y/n would do just about anything to get Wanda back into her life. But was it even Y/n’s fault that she cheated? Or was it the new enemy set on revenge?

Chapter Summary: What will happen to Y/n as the team pushes her past her limits? 

A/n: I lied, I decided to be nice and post it now. Honestly, the amount of support that I’m receiving from this fanfic has literally made me smile so much. I really love all of you who read and/or comment. You mean the world to me. Let me know what you think. :) (Not my GIF)

Warnings: Starvation, harmful thoughts, curse words, self-doubt, mentions of blood, injuries, angst

Word Count: 5k

Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 |

Y/n abruptly woke up at the feeling of pressurized gas coursing through her body. She quickly sat up, unable to see anything in the white fog. The cold feeling only lasted a couple seconds before F.R.I.D.A.Y stated, “Fire has been contained.” Y/n hugged herself for warmth as she waited for the fog to disappear. This was the 13th time this month that she was woken up with pressurized gas. At first, it was foam but someone in maintenance had changed the system after the 5th time she woke up. 

Y/n looked at her surroundings and sighed at the damages to her sheets. There were burn marks along with small amounts of frostbite from the gas. “At this rate, I won’t have money for food.” With a grim face, Y/n got up from her bed and proceeded with taking everything off her bed, a routine she unfortunately started to learn. 

Y/n didn’t know when things got worse. If she had to guess, maybe it was after the whole fiasco with Wanda. The team had been on edge ever since then. “They probably thought I hurt her,” Y/n thought at the time, but it was far from the truth. She had wanted to explain herself to the team but dismissed those thoughts with, “What’s the point in trying? I’ll always be guilty to them.” 

As for Wanda, the still heartbroken girl didn’t dare to speak to the team about that night. Even she didn’t quite know what happened. Since that night, she only lied to herself stating that maybe Y/n had done something. It would probably remove the guilt she had when she thought of the blood running down Y/n’s face. But even the lie couldn’t repress the truth from her thoughts. 

After she collected her bedding, she threw it away in the trash can along with the other damaged beddings. Y/n grabbed her wallet off her night stand and opened it. She couldn’t feel it, but her heart dropped at the sight of the lack of money she had. Only a $20 dollar bill as well as a couple ones were left. She closed her eyes and tried her best to keep herself calm, to try and act like the world wasn’t closing in on her. It was a couple minutes later when she opened her eyes and looked at her wallet again. “This was supposed to last me for the rest of the month.” Y/n rubbed her forehead, feeling the overwhelming stress from her lack of funds. 

One might ask, “Aren’t you an Avenger? Shouldn’t you make a shit ton of money.” And at one point, Y/n would say yes, she did. But it all came back to that night. A week after, she had overheard a conversation that went…

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this to her.” Y/n was about to go around the corner, but decided to wait at the sound of Steve’s voice. “It’s simple Rodgers - unless I have to remind you why we needed to redo the glass in the conference room.” Steve sighed at Tony’s simple minded actions. Y/n could practically feel him crossing his arms in a disapproving manner. 

“Well she did work fair and hard for her money Tony - this just feels wrong.” Y/n heard a couple clicks before Tony replied with, “This is for Wanda. Anything to get Y/n out of here by her own means is worth it. If you have a problem with this, you must not care as much for Wanda as I thought.” Steve sighed again seeing as he was morally put in an awkward position. It was either care for Y/n or care for Wanda. “That’s what I thought.” Tony left with a smug look on his face as he clicked more on the screen in front of him. 

It didn’t take long for Y/n to see the effects of Tony’s decision. Her pay day was the following day and the overwhelming sense of panic and anxiety rose up within her as she only had $400 to survive until the next pay day, which was a month later. Since then, her food portions have been small to say the least. Y/n learned that she only had enough money for the month to eat at least once a day and even that was cutting it. The dramatic changes to her diet had slowly affected her powers but it recently had an exponential increase. 

This was her fourth month of hardly eating when her powers started to flare at night. It has gotten to the point that Y/n couldn’t control them in her sleep leading to F.R.I.D.A.Y having to deal with her fireside. But her powers weren��t the only thing that has changed. If anyone were to actually look, they would see that Y/n had gotten skinnier. Her literal glow was getting duller and duller the more time passed.  

However, Y/n refused to feel sorry for herself. The sentence “I deserve this” was burned into her head. The brain tricks she puts herself through even allowed her to convince that Tony's decision was right. That Wanda didn’t need to tell the truth to the team. That Steve didn’t need to defend her. And that the team certainly was allowed to make her feel like nothing. Because to Y/n, if she didn’t deserve this, then why would you possibly treat a person like this? Just why? 

Of course, Wanda didn’t notice these changes at all. The girl was trying her best to avoid Y/n as much as possible. She always had exit strategies in place in case she were to be in the same vicinity as Y/n. However, Wanda also didn’t notice that lack of Y/n’s presence. Much to her dismay, Y/n’s efforts were the reason they didn’t see each other much. 

What Wanda did notice though was the slow and gradual decline of snacks in her cubby. It left her to question whether Natasha was done doing these small favors for her. But her reports were still getting done. 

The red head didn’t have much room to think though as she got slammed down on the mat from the other red head. “Take a ten - you’re distracted and we can’t keep going like this.” Wanda grumbled at another failed attempt to flip Natasha over. Hand to hand combat was one of the few subjects that Wanda hated the most. With the help of Natasha, Wanda got up and walked over to the waters on the other side of the room. She was gulping down the remaining when Natasha’s words caught her off guard. “What happened?” 

Wanda cocked an eyebrow while still drinking her bottle, needing more elaboration. Natasha faced Wanda while hundreds of thoughts racked her mind. Luckily for her, Wanda had trained her on how to make them quiet enough that Wanda wouldn’t be able to hear. When Natasha found the right words, she said, “I am not doubting you. I am doubting her…” Wanda closed the bottle and looked around the room to avoid Natasha’s eyes. This had been the first time that anyone from the team had remotely even asked her about that night. To be frank, she hadn’t expected Natasha to be the one to break the ice. Usually it was Steve that would act like the team’s counselor. Guess things change. 

Wanda sighed and recollected her memory for the night that continued to haunt her. “One minute, I left to get a drink from the bar. - she said that she needed to go to the bathroom. The next minute, I come back to see her all over blondie.” Wanda’s grip on the bottle tightened at the words she was going to say next. “I thought it was a mistake - that she could have been too drunk that night - b-but her thoughts were so - loud.” Wanda slammed her fist at the table in front of her, tears already falling down her cheeks. “A-a-and I saw everything-” 

The broken hearted girl didn’t have much energy left in her to continue. She dropped to her knees and sobbed into her hands. Natasha kneeled beside Wanda. She pulled the poor girl into her arms, trying her best to physically comfort her. But nothing could really make Wanda feel better. What could you say to a girl that saw every moment where her girlfriend has cheated on her? Nothing - you say nothing. 

“It’s quite pathetic actually,” Tony said as he spun the rod, causing his player to score in foosball. He was currently versing Steve as the two decided to quietly speak about Y/n’s actions for the past couple weeks. Going on the defense again, Steve shot back but Tony was quick to block. “She’s probably just trying to get her money back.” Steve huffed from the sudden slap shot as well as Tony’s rude words. 

For the past couple weeks, Y/n had gone from trying to win Wanda back to trying to win the whole team back. The first thing they noticed was all the completed mission reports and the continuation of it. Clint was the first to jokingly comment, “Bruce must really love mission reports.” But the genius bore a confused look before replying with, “It wasn’t me. Even I haven’t had anything to do in my stack for a couple days.” Bruce had a displeasured look on his face. Clint just assumed it was either he wanted to do his stack of reports or the comment was actually true...or maybe both. 

When it was time for the meeting, Clint had asked everyone in the room, minus Y/n, on who was completing the mission reports for everyone. “Well, I’m doing Wanda’s and mine,” Natasha claimed as she sat in her usual spot. No one was able to detect her lie, but then again, Natasha was always good at lying. 

Clint was quick to figure out that the only person remaining must have been the person responsible. With a straight forward voice, he explained to the team that Y/n had been completing everyones, besides Wanda’s and Natasha’s, reports. Still, Natasha sat there, copying the confused looks on everyone’s faces. She didn’t care to tell them the truth, it wasn’t worth it. However, the meeting proceeded with little comment on Y/n’s actions. She wasn’t worth the mention. 

“What if she actually is trying to say sorry to us?” Steve couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty for Y/n, but Tony’s words made the guilt go all away. “Oh - so miss Hydra over here actually wants to apologize - hilarious Steve.” With that, Tony quickly spun the rod and scored the final point, making him win the game. What the two failed to realize was the fact that Y/n had overheard their conversation. She no longer felt hungry for the day and had retreated back to her room, feeling overwhelmingly numb from the confession she heard.

It was a new and different day for Wanda. She had managed to want to try and sit in the common room with her team seeing as sitting in her room no longer gave her the same satisfaction anymore. Scrolling through the tv, she was about to pull up Bewitched when the following words appeared on the screen:

Bewitched is longer provided on Netflix. Please see related tv shows. 

“What do you mean it’s no longer available?” Wanda frustratedly questioned. And here she was trying to have a good day. “Sorry kid, I guess Netflix took it off their streaming service,” Clint said as he leaned over the couch. “No why would they do that?!” Wanda said with an exasperated look. Clint simply shrugged, Netflix did have an awful reputation for getting favorites removed or canceled. “No clue, but you could try other shows.” Wanda crossed her arms and huffed at his suggestion. “I was really feeling Bewitched today.” Ruffling her hair, Clint left after saying, “Try to feel for something else.” 

However, Wanda had failed to feel anything but angry for the remaining of the day. It wasn’t until she sat in her room for the night, aimlessly finding shows in her room when she noticed Bewitched on her home screen. She quickly clicked on it noticing that all eight seasons are there for her own viewing. Her mood immensely increased for the night as she fell asleep in the middle of season two. 

Outside of her room, Y/n had been cleaning up the compound for the night. It was getting harder and harder to clean the kitchen when everything in her wanted to just take a couple of snacks for herself. Her hunger was constantly on her mind as well as the stupid flashes that have sporadically appeared more and more everyday. But she wanted more than anything to prove to the team that she is a good person. Stealing, no matter how minor, was probably the last thing she needed to be labeled as. 

When she completed for the night, she returned to her room but paused outside of her door when she heard the Bewitched theme song loudly play in Wanda’s room. A small smile appeared on her face as she walked back into her room and slept on the floor tonight.

“Did it ever occur to you that I love you - like a lot?” The couple were laying in Carol’s room decorated with punk rock posters and pictures of their team. Small plants were placed around the room while Malcolm in the Middle was used as background noise. 

“Nah. I haven’t heard you say it in approximately - 10 minutes?” Carol laughed as Y/n glanced at her watch. They laid on their sides as they faced each other, their faces being only inches away. “Well I do.” Carol cupped Y/n’s cheek as she soon grew mesmerized. 

There are words to always describe feelings with someone but they all felt overused or incomplete. Because everything felt like this daydream colored borders with warm tones and retro filters as she glanced at Y/n. She felt like she was watching a show that she would never get tired of. Even if the show was in color or black and white, new or old, slow or fast, she would watch just to see her. Just her. 

“You do what?” Carol flicked Y/n’s forehead at her response. “Kidding - kidding.” Y/n said as she rubbed her forehead. Carol rolled her eyes and kissed Y/n’s head as she cuddled into her arms, legs tangled within the sheets. “I do love you.” Y/n kissed her hair as she combed it with her hand. “I know,” she whispered, hoping Carol would pick up on the secret reference. Because to Y/n, yeah, she’s worth a whole galaxy. 

It was the middle of the night when Steve woke up from a nightmare that shook him from his slumber. Rather than staying in bed to force himself to sleep, he got up and headed to the kitchen for a late night snack. 

Heading into the pantry, Steve pursed his lips noticing that Y/n’s cubby had been empty for weeks it seems like. The guilt that was slowly forming inside him kept building and building. Although he knew he could try to do something about it, the loyalty he had to his family - to Wanda. That was something he didn’t want to break. 

The relationship with Wanda and Steve was something similar to a father and daughter relationship. Steve had always wanted a kid of his own and Wanda had lost her father. The irony of it all just happened to work for the two. Even though Wanda nor Steve would admit it out loud, they viewed each other as the roles that needed to be filled in their lives. They needed each other regardless of titles.

But then there was Y/n. The troubled girl that made Steve absolutely nervous with how quick her and Wanda seemed to like each other. It absolutely didn’t help Steve’s case when the whole team found out about Y/n’s past. His anxiety had practically skyrocketed. It eventually led to a one on one talk with Wanda about how sometimes we need to protect ourselves before letting people in. 

But Y/n was still there. Breaking down Wanda’s walls. So just like any Dad would, Steve watched over. Making sure his girl was always happy and safe. So while Natasha may have refilled Wanda’ cubby and did her reports, Steve had carried Wanda to bed during nights she couldn’t sleep. He made her tea for times that she didn’t want to talk, which was often. He tucked her in at night and cuddled with her when she needed a shoulder to cry on. He was just there. 

But so was she. She was there whenever Wanda cried at night. She was there when Wanda would sometimes forget to eat after busying herself all day. She was there to take care of Wanda. She was there when Steve wasn’t. And that meant everything to Steve. So why couldn’t Steve be there for Y/n? 

There were a lot of unanswered questions roaming around Steve’s head. Rather than pondering more about them, he walked around the tower, eating a pack of cookies for himself. Just as he was turning the corner, he glanced towards the conference room to see Wanda asleep in front of her reports. However, the more alarming part was the girl that happened to be right in front of Wanda. Steve quickly grew on high alert and observed Y/n’s actions. However, after a couple minutes of harmless actions, Steve forced his shoulders to relax. “She’s just doing reports - calm down,” Steve thought. 

But he couldn’t calm down. The guilt had maneuvered it’s way back up to his throat as he actually noticed the pale state of the once bright girl. For someone that had literal fire abilities, she lacked the glow of any raging fire. Feeling nothing but guilt all over, Steve felt compelled to say something - anything. But he froze. He didn’t know what to say. 

However, the opportunity soon was lost as Y/n finished everyone’s stack of reports. Steve hid around the corner as Y/n passed him. Hearing a door close was when Steve stepped out of hiding. He glanced towards the direction of Y/n’s room, feeling every need to go to her. But his footsteps led him to Wanda. He picked her up and carried her to her room. Wanda will always be first in Steve’s heart. And nothing could change that. 

“We have to stop this treatment Tony.” Steve waltzed into Tony’s lab the very next day. For once, he couldn’t sleep for the remainder of the night. Y/n was all over his mind. The guilt was practically eating him alive. 

Tony rolled his eyes at Steve’s dramatic fashion for entrances. “Oh - good morning Tony - how are you - I’m actually pretty good.” Steve rolled his eyes as he stood in front of Tony, a hologram in between the two. 

“Cut the crap Tony - I’m being serious.” Steve crossed his arms. This needed to end. “And you think I’m not Rodgers?” Tony was quick to respond, already growing irritated by the conversation. 

“This isn’t right - none of this right.” Steve wiped the hologram to finally get a clear view of Tony as he grew frustrated by the second. Tony simply swiped it back, not wanting to deal with the issue. “Well maybe if she just quit - we wouldn’t need to worry about anything. It’s not my fault Fury hired Ms. Hydra - and if he finds out I fired her, he would not allow it at all.” 

“But can’t you see that your stupid plan isn’t working? All we’re doing is abusing the girl.” Steve wiped the hologram again but Tony simply walked to a different station and continued his work. Angry with his response, Steve walked around the table and stood beside Tony. 

“This needs to end Tony,” Steve said through his gritted teeth. The man was clenching his jaw so hard, it almost looked as if he was going to break his teeth. However, Tony quickly glared at Steve at the mention of his threat. 

“Don’t you fucking dare. Can’t you actually see that I’m trying to protect Wanda.” Steve tilted his head at the awful reasoning for his actions. “How is this protecting Wanda? Why are you even trying to protect her?” 

Tony slammed his fist into the table, feeling his anger rising by the second. “We - no - I need to protect her Steve!”

“Why Tony? Why?” 

“Because I’m the goddamn reason her parents and her country is dead. I’m the reason that everything she ever loved is gone. I’m the reason for her sadness. She, of all people, deserves happiness. And I sure as hell won’t let anyone else hurt her anymore - no more Steve.” Tony didn’t give Steve a chance as he walked out the facility needing a day drink more than ever. 

It was lunch time and all Wanda could think about was the need to cook paprikash. She didn’t know when the last time she had actually cooked. And seeing as the majority of the team was on missions, she could actually cook without interruptions or lingering eyes. 

Walking into the kitchen, Wanda tied her hair up and started to take out the necessary ingredients for the meal. It was when she was talking the spices out when Vision had appeared out of nowhere, nearly scaring the girl. “Vision!” 

Sensing a slight rise in her heart rate and anger, Vision had quickly apologized. “Sorry Wanda.” Wanda shook her head and quickly resumed prepping. “I will try to work on making my presence known. If I may ask, what is it that you’re doing?” 

“I’m making paprikash.” Vision’s mind grew curious at the word and quickly searched his database for it. “I see. A traditional Sokovian food.” Wanda didn’t realize it, but she had felt a little annoyed at the synthezoid’s presence. It wasn’t anything he did, but Wanda desperately wanted alone time for herself. 

Before she could ask, Vision had said, “Good morning Y/n.” Wanda’s quickly grew wide as she avoided glancing in Y/n’s direction. She hadn’t stayed in the tense position though as Vision announced, “Oh - it seems she had left before saying hi back.” 

Feeling ever more frustrated with people’s presence, Wanda was about to ask him to leave but noticed the confusion written all over his face and didn’t hesitate to ask, “What is it Vision?” Vision pursed his lips and contemplated his words. It was visibly obvious to see that he was trying to wrack up what to say. “I think...it’s just…” He sighed knowing that this was going to be a sensitive subject to the witch but knowing everything she's been through, lying was not the best option. “It’s just that Y/n-” Wanda quickly cut Vision off in desperation to know what Y/n had done to Vision. If the girl were to even lay a finger on him, she was sure to deal with it herself.  “What did she do? Did she hurt you? I swear-” Seeing her eyes turn red, Vision immediately explained himself. “-No no no. It’s not that, the complete opposite actually.” Wanda’s eyes slowly turned back to normal. When Vision saw that her heart rate was close to normal, he continued. “It’s just that...Y/n’s vitals have been decreasing in a fluctuating matter. Some days it would be a small decrease, but some days it would be a big decrease. Overall, her health has been poor.” Vision looked back at where Y/n once stood. If he hadn’t quickly analyzed her, he wouldn’t have noticed that today’s vitals was record worst. “Although she does have physical injuries, she seems to continue to radiate pain throughout her body even when those injuries have healed. It starts through her head and it spreads like a radio wave through her nervous system. I’ve done my calculations and the leading cause could be migraines...” Vision soon was in deep thought, trying to recalculate just to make sure what he was about to say was correct. “...but it doesn’t make sense.” 

Wanda tilted her head. Processing this information was hard seeing as at her darkest moments, she wanted nothing but Y/n to be hurt. She deserved it for all the pain she caused her to go through. But hearing it now? That was a different story. It was like an internal conflict was going through her. Should she even care about Y/n’s health? “What doesn’t make sense?” Vision looked hard into Wanda’s eyes as he said, “Migraines shouldn’t cause her heart to stop multiple times.” 

Wanda stared at Vision, processing the information that the love of her life is practically dying. “A-are you sure?” Vision slowly nodded. “However, after some calculations, I do believe she will be okay. She only needs a good source of food for her healing regeneration to fully heal this.” Wanda relaxed at Vision’s words. Although she has been through immense pain through these past couple months, having Y/n gone from her life like that would hurt more than anything. 

Before Vision could continue his explanation, F.R.I.D.A.Y stated, “Emergency alert. All available Avengers please head to the quinjet per the request of Mr. Stark and Mr. Rogers.” Quickly, the two headed to the plane as the important part of Vision’s explanation was missed. Little did Wanda know, Y/n would not heal any time soon. 

The trio arrived on the quinjet and wasted no time trying to figure out the mission that was ahead of them. There was a serious feel in the atmosphere sensing that this had to be bad. There was no way that it couldn’t have been. Because if it wasn’t, they certainly wouldn’t have invited Y/n to this mission. 

Lately, the girl has been assigned to only solo missions. Y/n couldn’t quite remember the last time that she was on a mission with any team member nevermind the fact with the whole team. 

“Backup is needed immediately after touch down. Vision and Wanda, meet up with Steve and Sam at the Northeast corridor. Y/n, you are assigned to the entrance,” Tony stated through the intercom. 

The feeling in Y/n’s stomach worsened. Not only was she hungry and sleep deprived, she didn’t also have a partner with her. It also didn’t help the fact that the flashes have gotten worse. Y/n couldn’t help but pray for a miracle. After all, they were dealing with the very people Y/n hated - Hydra. 

Y/n couldn’t quite tell when things on the mission got to shit. Maybe it was the fact that as soon as they touched down and went to their assigned positions, Y/n received a massive swarm of Hydra agents. It didn’t help that her health regeneration was not at its peak or these agents actually were decently trained. Or was it during the third wave, that was currently happening, where Y/n tested the limits of her body. 

Seeing the onslaught of agents coming her way, Y/n decided it was time to test out her new ability. She rapidly swung her right arm, building momentum as the fire within her right side blazed. As soon as the enemies were close, she released a fire tornado in their path. It had managed to take out at least half of the wave, but more and more kept coming. 

Pressing her comms, Y/n said, “Can someone send back up my way?! There’s too many for me to handle.” Y/n kicked back the agent that was about to stab her in the back, but was too distracted to the point a different agent was able to cut her leg. “Fuck.” 

Y/n quickly released an ice wall that at first glance, appeared to be the same height as the Great Wall of China. She hoped the barrier would give her enough time for her backup to appear. Focusing all her energy on her fireside, Y/n aimed at any agent near her, using her arm as a flamethrower. 

However, worry immediately grew when no one had responded to her call within a couple minutes. Before she could request again, Nat had spoken bitterly in the comms, “On my way.” Sighing in relief, Y/n continued to fight off the agents the best she could. 

But no matter how hard she tried to buy herself time, it seemed that Natasha was taking forever to come. It had gotten to the point that multiple lashes already appeared. Her healing regeneration couldn’t keep up at all. Not only that, but her body was either giving up from exhaustion or blood loss. It was only during the last couple agents when Natasha had shown up and quickly killed the remainder. 

Y/n glanced at the assassin and noticed the lack of any injuries on her and it was as if she barely broke a sweat. “What happened? I almost got killed.” 

Natasha glared at Y/n as she responded with, “I helped Bucky and Rhodey on the way, they needed it.” Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat knowing the redhead in front of her had practically lied. If backup was needed, it was always voiced through comms. 

Even if Y/n had wanted to confront Natasha about it, she couldn’t. Natasha had already left to head to the quinjet. Y/n simply limped a couple feet from her. When Y/n arrived, it seemed that everyone else was already prepared for take off. Feeling ever more guilty, Y/n simply sat at the closet seat to the entrance that was away from the team. But something inside her broke even more noticing the lack of any questions or concerns from the team in regards to her injuries. 

Not even bothering to buckle up, Y/n sulked in her thoughts when she realized, “Why doesn’t anyone care about me?” 

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[winchestersworld4]

Saved Me First

Your best friend Dean Winchester knows something isn’t right. He knows the signs, and he’s desperate for you to come clean with him. His desire to protect you and your desire to not need to be rescued seem to land you in a mess.

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Thank you to @luci-in-trenchcoats​ for sharing her talent and pushing me to expand my writing. Your stories bring Dean Winchester back to life, and I’m so thankful to love him in new ways. 

Word Count: 7900

Show my first post some love! 😍

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 “Hey” Dean smiled to you. You looked over your shoulder and smiled back as he walked around the bar and came to stand in front of you. “You get started without me?”

You smirked as you watched him throw a towel over his shoulder and lean against the bar using his hands. You spent many a nights in the same seat. Staring at your best friend while he wooed the women, comforted the hurt, and tossed the assholes. Dean was one hell of a bartender, but he was an even better person. He had a no tolerance rule for guys getting handsy on women in his bar.

In the 4 years you’ve known him you couldn’t count the amount of times he called his brother, Sam, to come and make sure the women got home safe. Sam had moved up from street cop to detective pretty quickly, but he always came when Dean called and made sure everyone was safe, bad guy behind bars, the whole hero complex must have been engrained into them both from a very young age.

“I only had one so far.”

“Benny get you taken care of?”

“He always does, seems like he can spot a big tipper from a mile away.” You winked.

“Yeah, well when you drink for free its only common courtesy to tip the bar back.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite friend?”

Dean chuckled and shook his head.

“You don’t have to do that Dean. You know I’m expecting it. Ever.”

“Yeah well, having a nurse for a friend comes in handy. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. Tough shift today?”

You looked up to him curiously.

“You just seem… off. That’s all.” He gave a small smile as he leaned down closer.

“Yeah. Long day. People live, people die.”

He reached out for your hand and you flinched unwillingly as he grabbed it softly. He pulled back and looked at you concerned.

“Sorry, I uh. I just wasn’t paying attention.” You lied quickly, forcing a small laugh, pulling your hands in your lap until you could stop them from shaking.

Dean stared at you for a minute longer, then went to speak.

“I uh, I should get home. David is gonna be home in an hour and I haven’t even started on dinner.”

“(Y/N)… you sure you should be driving?” Dean asked hesitantly.

“It was only one drink, De. I’ve eaten today. I’m fine.”

“Then why are you shaking?” He asked you pointedly. The panic creeped up your throat as you could tell he was reading your signals, like he always does.

It’s been harder and harder to keep it from him. You don’t answer the phone when he calls. You don’t go out with your friends for middle of the night breakfast after the bar closes down. You haven’t worn a dress or a tank top in weeks, despite it being middle of the summer.

Even in your scrubs you always make sure to wear something long sleeve underneath.

“Just cold, Dean.”

“In July?”

“Dean. Stop.” You sighed as you stood and fidgeted with your sleeves, putting your phone down in your scrub pocket and grabbing your keys.

“(Y/N) please. Whatever it is you can tell me, you know that sweetheart. You’ve been dodging me for weeks… I just want to help.”

“I’m fine, Dean. I’ve told you that a hundred times. I’ll see you this weekend, okay? Love you.” You said too quick as you leaned across the bar and pecked his cheek.

“Love you too.” Dean sighed as he watched you walk out the door. He sighed and threw down the towel in his hand.

“You need to call Sam.” Benny said as he slowly walked up beside him, drying glasses to busy his hands. “You and I both know what this looks like, just get a squad car to go by, fake noise complaint from the neighbors. He’ll do it for (Y/N) no questions asked.”

“I know he will… he already did. I called him a month ago when she refused to take off her Jacket even though we were all sweating balls that night.”

“And?”

“Nothing came of it. David answered the door, typical narcissistic bullshit. She didn’t come in for a week after that… no telling what he did or said. I can’t put her in that position again until I know how far this has gone already.”

“Too far.”

“You think I don’t know that, Benny? I can’t… I can’t sleep at night. I just can’t barge in there without proof or her coming clean. I just. I don’t know why she thinks she can’t tell me. I mean, she knows I would never let him touch her again.”

“I don’t know. But everyone else is starting to ask questions, Sam obviously knows. It’s only a matter of time before someone else breaks the ice on this.”

“Well maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. You think you could get Donna to take her out? See if she’ll talk about it?”

“Worth a shot.”

THREE DAYS LATER

“Oh I needed this.” You sighed as your feet slipped into the hot water and the massage chair pushed up and down your back.

“I know, we haven’t had a mani-pedi date in forever. I feel like I haven’t seen you much lately.”

“Yeah, I just uh. Been working a lot of overtime with all the staffing issues at the hospital, ya know?”

“Yeah. I heard it’s been rough. How are things with David? You guys seem serious.”

“Good.” You smiled as if it was an automatic conditioned response. Donna noticed and her eyes changed for a minute. “I mean we’re. Just… kinda in that phase where we want to be together all the time. Ya know?”

“Yeah. I remember that phase. I know I’ve never felt safer than with Benny. I know that sounds silly coming from a girl who carries a gun and a badge. But even cops need a safe space at home, ya know?”

“Yeah. I do.” You sighed slightly. Tugging at your sleeves nervously. “So what are we doing for lunch?”

You were hoping the change in subjects would pull Donna off the trail.

You were so tired of cutting people out of your life to keep your business hidden. They wouldn’t understand… how embarrassing. To have to admit to the strongest people you know that YOU are the weak link amongst them.

They’re probably just better off if I go, you thought to yourself.

“I had fun today, let’s not wait so long again.” Donna said as she moved to hug you. You were hesitant, but returned it. For some reason you just didn’t want to pull away. You felt safe in her arms, like you could take a deep breath for the first time in forever. Your eyes watered and you knew then you had to  pull away or she’d start asking questions.

“Yeah. Definitely.” You said as you pulled away, crossing your arms.

“(Y/N) why don’t you and David come to family dinner Sunday night? The gang really misses you.”

“Yeah. I think that would be fine.”

“So what’s the verdict?” Benny asked as soon as Donna walked into the bar. Dean didn’t miss the look on her face as she sat down across from them both.

“He’s hurting her. No doubt in my mind. She dodged it so well, but I got her to let the wall down for just a second or two.”

Dean ran his hand over his face. Tapping his foot anxiously.

“Dean.” Donna said catching his attention. “You gotta get her to talk to you. It’s gotta be you, just. Get her alone, hold her. She’ll crack like an egg. She damn near did today in a parking lot.”

“Yeah well that’s the problem, I can’t. She doesn’t answer my calls unless she’s out of the house. She texts, but its not the same. I can tell. She only comes to the bar during open hours, doesn’t stay late anymore. I’m sure that’s his doing. I’m gonna rip his lungs out.”

“No you’re not. You’re going to get her to talk, and then you’re gonna let Sam do what he does best and ruin that bastard’s life.”

“Or I could just kill him.” Dean shrugged.

“Dean.” Benny groaned. “Please don’t make Donna testify, you gotta wait till she leaves. THEN we can plan a murder.”

Dean turned to face Benny who had an encouraging smile on his face.

“I asked them both to come to family dinner, maybe. Maybe we can separate them for a few minutes.” Donna suggested.

“I’m sorry. Did you not hear the part where I just said I will certainly cease his ability to breathe?” Dean asked. “You really want to put me in a room with him?”

“Yes. Because you can keep your shit together for (Y/N). Now I’m leaving before I hear anything else incriminating.”

“Thanks darling.” Benny said as he kissed her sweetly.

“Yeah. Thanks, Donna.”

“I’m sorry.” You barely whispered, shivering against the wall as he continued to smash things on the bathroom counter. Your hands held a death grip on your towel, wet hair dripping down your back.

“I mean I asked you three times this week to clean this fucking bathroom!” David yelled as he turned back towards you, throwing a wet rag at your face. “I’m so sick of living with your fucking filth.”

“I-I worked late every day this week, and I just… I wanted to just rest today. I’m so sorry. I’ll clean it. I promise.”

“THIS. This is why your friends don’t come over anymore. You disgust them.”

“Please stop.” You whispered.

“Why do you think they barely talk to you anymore? Don’t beg to see you… they don’t fucking care.”

“I know.”

“I care.” David said much softer. He walked up and held your face with his hands. “I’m the only one who really loves you (Y/N). But you can’t do one simple thing for me? Why can’t you see how much that hurts me?”

“I’m sorry. I’ll be better. I promise.” You said as he leaned in and kissed you, first it was soft but then it became demanding. You tried to pull away but he bit your lip when you pulled too far and a metallic taste tainted the kiss.

“Clean yourself up. You’re a fucking mess.”

An hour later you were dressed, scrubbing every inch of the bathroom while David was passed out drunk on the couch. Crying as you pushed the scrubber across every inch of the tile.

Your phone vibrated against the counter and made you jump. You took a deep breath and grabbed it, not even seeing the name on the caller ID.

“Hello?” You tried to say calmly.

“(Y/N)?” Dean’s voice hit your ears and the overwhelming urge to release all of the bullshit you’d been holding back slammed into you. You went to bite your lip, but it was too tender so instead you held your hand over your mouth to silence a sob. “(Y/N) sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

Dean knew you.

Dean knew you so well he knew no response was a response, and it wasn’t a good one.

“I’m fine.” You sniffled as quietly as possible.

“No you’re not. Where are you?”

“I’m home.” You whispered.

“I’m pulling up out front in five minutes.” He said sternly.

“Dean no. Please.” You whined, unable to hide the rasp in your voice.

“(Y/N) can you get outside? Meet me out front a few houses down?”

“Just for a minute, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll be there soon, sweetheart.”

You hung up the phone and stood, trying to use a cool rag to decrease the redness on your face. Grabbing one of Dean’s hoodies he had leant you and putting it on over your t-shirt. David had no idea it belonged to Dean. He had asked once, and you lied saying it was yours from college.

You didn’t even bother brushing your hair. Dean had seen your hungover, hangry, sick, and he had even seen you cry a handful of times over the years. He wasn’t someone you had to impress. You were just trying to do some damage control on the level of worry he would have if you walked out looking like this. You gave up knowing it wasn’t going to get any better and quietly walked out the front door. Your shorts left your legs exposed to the cold air and your slippers did their best to warm your feet. You crossed your arms as you walked down the block just a bit to the black impala with Dean leaned against the trunk.

You wanted nothing more than to get in this car with him, and never come back.

But you couldn’t do that to Dean… you couldn’t be just another damsel in distress. Another poor girl he had to save. Another name on the list of people Dean felt sorry for.

You just couldn’t let him think of you like that. You couldn’t lose him. So, you kept pushing away and pushing away, hoping that the distance would be less noticeable. What other choice did you have?

“Hey.” He said softly, pushing off the trunk and taking a step or two towards you.

“Hey.” You smiled. “Are you okay? What are you doing out here? You usually work the bar on Friday nights?”

“I’m fine… just. Worried about my best friend.”

“Dean. We’ve been through this.” You sighed as you looked down at your feet. “I’m fine.”

“Say that one more time, but look at me when you do.”

You stared up at his face, unable to open your mouth. He stared back, desperately searching your eyes for the truth. His brow furrowed slightly as he looked down to your mouth. He reached up slowly towards your face, you flinched, and he hesitated but then reached forward and let his thumb graze your lower lip.

Dammit. You forgot about the bite.

“What happened?”

“Bit my lip, nervous habit. You know that.”

“I’ve watched you chew on that lip for days when you were stressed about work, and never once did it look like that.”

“It’s fine.” You said as you took one step closer to him. Unable to pull yourself away tonight. He reached out and pushed your wet hair behind your ear on each side, pulling your face up slightly to look at him.

“Why can’t you tell me what’s wrong? You’ve always told me everything. Even the girly shit I didn’t want to know.” He teased, but his face held nothing but worry.

“I just don’t feel good. I have a headache, that’s all.” You lied poorly, leaning your head against his chest, once more moving closer to him. He rubbed his hands up and down your back, not pushing. Not asking. Just silently praying that you’d finally come clean with him and he could get you the hell out of here as fast as possible. He finally wrapped his arms around your body and pressed you against his chest.

You breathed in his scent.

The scent that always made you feel safe. The scent that could lull you to sleep in minutes. The scent that reminded you of home. Because Dean was your home.

Home that you haven’t felt in quite some time now.

You couldn’t stop yourself when your arms slid up around his neck and you squeezed, crying against him. He shushed you softly.

“(Y/N) it’s okay. You’re okay. Let me fix it… whatever it is.”

But you knew he couldn’t.

You couldn’t.

David was the only one who could fix it.

If you tried to leave… he would be so angry. He would hurt you even more. If you stayed though, maybe. Maybe you could make him happy again. Maybe he would stop.

“I should go, I have to work the weekend shift tomorrow.” You said barely able to get the words past your mouth.

“Don’t do this… don’t hide this from me. I know what this is, (Y/N).”

“I gotta go.” You said before turning.

“(Y/N) Stop! Please. Don’t go back in there… let’s just go. I’ll get you somewhere safe.”

“Dean I am safe. I’m fine.” You lied with more force.

He nodded up and down softly as he slid his hands into his pockets.

“You can’t keep lying to me.”

“Dean it-“

“Sunday. Family Dinner right?” He cut you off. Sparing you another lie.

“Yes. Sunday.” You smiled softly.

“I’ll see you Sunday, but please. Call me. For anything. Ever. Day or night, I’ll be here faster than you can dial that phone.”

“I know.” You said crossing your arms nervously.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.” You said before walking back to the house, listening to the impala start up and drive away in the opposite direction.

SUNDAY

“Hey, come on in.” Benny held a tight smile as he opened the door for you and David to walk in. David smiled. Laughed at the right jokes, tipped his beer and joined in on the conversation like you would expect anyone too.

It was impressive just how easily he could fit into a room. With anyone really.

A trait that once drew you to him. You loved that he could be friends with anyone. Loved that he could fit into any crowd and have a good time.

Now you see it for what it is… a trick.

“I’m stuffed. That was so good.” You chuckled as you slid your plate forward. “Thank you guys, it’s been forever.”

“Yes. Thank you, we were just talking about trying to knock down some of (Y/N)’s PTO bank and force her back out into the world again.” David smiled. You looked up to Dean who kept his smile tight and his eyes downward at David’s comment.

“I’m gonna get a quick refill.” You smiled as you stood and walked into the kitchen. You were so warm. You wanted nothing more than to ditch the cardigan over your pretty summer dress, but you couldn’t.

You just couldn’t. You were learning to live with it though. The summer was proving to be a challenge. As you refilled your glass of ice water and stood at the counter taking a sip or two you turned back to make sure you were out of sight.

Then you carefully slid your cardigan off your shoulders and stood right below the air conditioning vent beside the fridge. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath as the cool air blew against your clammy skin.

“(Y/N)” A voice said softly, causing you to jump. You froze as your eyes met Dean’s. His gaze going up and down your shoulders and to the discoloration along your collar bone.

“Dean, wait. I- I can. It’s not what it looks like.” You began to frantically whisper. Tears pricked at your eyes and the panic bubbled up your throat.

Dean held up two hands as he approached you.

“(Y/N).” He said softly. “Its okay. Its gonna be okay.”

Laughter from the other room caught your attention and you grabbed Dean by the hand pulling him into the small guest bathroom and quietly shutting the door as you started to hyperventilate. You clamped your hands over your mouth to keep from making noise and attracting any attention.

“Whoa whoa whoa… take a breath.” Dean said quietly as he placed a hand on either side of your face and pulled your focus on him. “Easy… in. Out. Easy sweetheart. You’re okay. It’s gonna be okay. I promise.”

“I-I-I didn’t want it to be like this. I’m so sorry, De.” You cried.

“Shhhh. You’re okay. It’s not your fault. I got you, okay?”

“Dean. I can’t. I can’t leave… he’ll. He’ll hurt me. He’ll hurt you.” You said shaking your head back and forth quickly.

“He will never fucking touch you again.” Dean said sternly. “Do you understand? You are not leaving this house with him.”

“I have to.” You whimpered.

“No. No you don’t. You don’t have to ever go with him again. Do you understand?”

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry Dean.”

Dean rubbed his thumbs across your cheeks, clearing the wet tears from your face. He shushed you to keep you from making too much noise.

“(Y/N) I’m gonna call Sam. Sam’s going to take care of this.”

“No… NO no please. Don’t. Not yet.”

“Why not?!”

“He. He planted drugs in our house. He said if I ever left h-he would turn me into the board. He would have them drug test me. He said I’d fail it. Dean, he drugged me.” You cried.

“There is no way he gets away with that.”

“Please! Don’t. I can’t take that chance! My nursing license is all I have that’s mine. I earned it, and I can’t just lose it.”

“You won’t, sweetheart. We will figure this out.”

“Just. Let me go home. Let me go home, and flush the drugs. Then call, Sam. Okay? Please? I. I just can’t risk it.” You begged.

“No. Sam will fix this. He can protect you, I can protect you sweetheart. You can’t go back with him. Look at you!”

“I know. I’m so sorry.” You said as you tore your eyes down to the floor and your hands shook.

“This is not your fault. You’re okay. I got you, remember? I always got you. I’ll fix it sweetheart.”

“I can’t do this.” You started to hyperventilate again.

“Yes. You can. We can.” Dean nodded reassuringly. “Let me call Sam. He will pick up David, and we’ll go home and flush the drugs. Okay? Please sweetheart. I can’t let you leave with him. You know I can’t do that.”

“Dean I’m so sorry.”

“(Y/N)?” Donna knocked on the door. You shook your head back and forth at Dean.

“I got this.” Dean said calmly as he kissed your forehead and cracked open the door. “Donna. I’m gonna call Sam. I need you to go out and tell David that (Y/N) needs a change of clothes from the house, ask him to run and get some.”

“You betcha.” Donna nodded and then walked back in the dining area.

“Hey Sam.” Dean said into the phone as you sank down to the floor, pulling your knees up to your chest as you sat against the door. “Its (Y/N). Yeah. No. I got her, she’s with me at Benny’s. Listen he’s fixing to leave here and head back to the house. I need you to get him, don’t let him talk to anyone yet… No. No I’ll explain as soon as I get there. We’re gonna head to the house after you pick him up… Yeah. Okay thanks.”

Dean hung up the phone and took a deep breath as he sank down into the floor across from you. Not much room left for his long legs in the small space.

“Sweetheart. You in there?” He said softly. You looked up to him with sad eyes.

“Yeah. I’m here.”

“Good. Cause I’ve missed my best friend.”

“I’m sorry.” You said twisting your hands back and forth.

“Stop saying that. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“I didn’t wanna be another one of… those. Women.”

“What women?”

“The ones at the bar you’re always having to take care of. The ones who couldn’t walk away. Couldn’t protect themselves. I didn’t want you to think of me like that.”

“(Y/N), I would never think of you like that. You were manipulated, and trapped. He did this. Not you.”

“… How long have you known.”

“Couple months or more.”

“Who else?”

“Most of them… but. We didn’t want him to have the chance to hurt you more before we could get you out. We were trying to find the safest way out. My vote was just to barge in and kill him.” Dean shrugged.

“De.” You chuckled.

“I mean. Who would miss him?”

“Not me.” You sighed. You used your sleeve to wipe your nose. You pulled at the cardigan and wrapped it around yourself tightly.

“You don’t have to hide anymore. You don’t have to do that. It’s just me.”

“It’s embarrassing…” You whispered as you looked away.

“Hey.” Dean called getting your attention. “Do you remember the time I threw up in your car? Or. The time that I split my pants at the baseball game? Now THOSE. Were embarrassing. This isn’t something you have to be embarrassed about. I’ve been begging you to let me help for weeks, I’m just glad you finally are.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you.” You whimpered, hiding your face in your hands.

“Sweetheart.” He said as he scooted closer and carefully pulled you into his lap. “You didn’t. I’m so proud of you. You’re so strong. You’ve been so tough for so long.”

“I should have come to you… the first time. I. I did. I came to the bar, but… I couldn’t gets the words out. I just. Didn’t want you to think I had to be saved.”

“Best friends. That means we save each other. (Y/N) you pulled me out of the gutter 4 years ago. When Lisa left me… broke me. Cashed out everything I had. You were the person that saved me. It’s just my turn, that’s how this friendship works.”

Dean’s phone beeped and he smiled as he read the text.

“He’s in custody. Let’s get you home.”

“I don’t know how to walk back out there… with our friends.”

“Just like this.” He said as he reached down a hand from where he stood and pulled you up as well. He laced his fingers through yours. “We walk out, we say goodbye, and we get in the car. Just like any other day.”

“Don’t let go.” You whispered as you squeezed his hand gently.

“I won’t.”

“Ms. (Y/L/N) I’m sorry but I just have a few more questions.” Asked the officer that sat at your kitchen table with you for the last half hour taking your statement.

“It’s fine.” You mumbled. Dean standing behind your chair, his hand on hour shoulder as you recanted every encounter over the last four months.

“Hey.” Sam said walking back in. “Can you give us a minute. She can finish the rest later.”

“Sure.” He nodded before walking out.

Sam stood beside you. Then squatted down to be face to face with you.

“It’s gone. I searched the bedroom top to bottom. Found 3 bags. All flushed. How long ago did he drug you?”

“Couple of months ago.”

“Okay. Well. That’s only going to show on a hair follicle. I think you’re in the clear (Y/N). Even if you fail, I’m going to make sure it’s documented in your statements that he drugged you during your relationship.”

“Sam. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Don’t. Not you… you’re family. You never have to thank me for this. This family protects each other.” Sam looked up and Dean who smiled back.

“(Y/N) we need to photograph the bruises.” Sam said softly. “We have to have them for court. Do you have any photos on your phone?”

“No.” You shook your hand.

“Okay, one of the officers will take you to another room and get some photos in there. Okay?”

“Yeah.” You sighed, but your hands started to shake.

“(Y/N) it’s okay. We can have it be a female. You don’t have to be in there with another man.”

“No. It’s… It’s not that. I just. Can it be you and Dean? I just want it to be someone I trust.”

“Yeah. We can do that.” Sam nodded. Dean kissed the top of your head lightly.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get this part over with.” Dean said as he moved to stand beside you and reached for your hand. You took it and quietly made your way into the bedroom. Sam stepped out to get the camera from the other officers, and after he stepped in he shut the door behind him.

“Are you sure?” Dean asked as he saw tears fall off your face. “We can always ask Donna to come do this?”

“You’ve already seen it. Sam’s going to see the case file. The fewer people the better.”

“Okay.” Dean said as ne nodded and you pulled off your jacket, leaving you in just the dress. You held your arms self-conciously.

“Lift your arms.” Sam said quietly. The first flashing of the camera caused you to flinch. Dean noticing and taking a step closer. “Sorry.”

“I’m okay.” You nodded. Then you turned to face Dean. “Can you hand me those shorts on the dresser?”

He reached over and grabbed a pair of black gym shorts. You slid them up your legs before turning back and reaching for your zipper. Flinching when your shoulder twisted at an odd angle.

“I got it.” Dean whispered as he stepped up behind you. His fingers so gentle as they grazed down your shoulder to the edge of your dress and then pulled on the zipper.

You took a deep breath before reaching up and pulling each sleeve off your shoulders. You let the dress fall to the floor. Leaving you in your bra and your shorts. Dean inhaling and exhaling slowly as the multi colored bruising covered your torso.

“Okay.” Sam coughed to clear his throat. “I need you to hold your arms out to the side and we’ll get a photo from the front and one from the back.”

You nodded and did as he asked, spinning and pulling your hair up in a messy bun when he went to photograph the back.

“(Y/N) is there… is there any others?” Dean asked softly.

“Just on my leg.” You whispered.

“Can you show us?”

You sniffled as you pulled up your shorts and turned your leg to expose your inner thigh where there were obvious bruises from David’s finger tips.

“Anything else?” Sam asked as he lowered the camera. Your arms crossed on your chest, an attempt to cover yourself. Dean instantly noted the reaction and pulled off the navy button up. Leaving him in a gray t-shirt and jeans. He slid it over your shoulders and you pulled it across your body.

“No.” You shook your head back and forth.

“Okay. I’m gonna go finish up with them. You guys take your time.” Sam nodded.

You waited until the door was closed again before you turned into Dean’s chest and hid yourself against him. He carefully put his hands on your back and rubbed them up and down.

“You did good.” Dean whispered in your ear.

“I don’t know how I ended up here.”

“Doesn’t matter. You found your way back… (Y/N). I have to ask you. Did he hurt you in other ways? Did he ever. Force you t-“

“No.” You whispered. “Close… but no.”

Dean clenched his fists quietly, hoping you wouldn’t notice it.

“Why don’t you get something comfortable on. I’ll run home. Grab a bag, and then I’ll crash with you. Unless you wanna get out of here and crash at my place?”

“No. I’d like to start trashing his shit. He kept his apartment, was staying here most nights but most of his stuff is at his own place, I just have enough to make me wanna puke every time I look at it.”

“Sounds like a party. I’ll pick up some late night junk food and bottle of tequila on the way back.” Dean smiled to you.

“Hey.” You said grabbing his hand as he went to walk away. “Thank you… for saving me. For not giving up on me.”

You moved to pull off his shirt and give it back.

“You keep it. Looks good on you.” Dean said as he turned to face you once more. Your eyes locked on his. His hand still in yours. Neither of you moving away.

Every time you almost showed your hand.

Every time you almost got the nerve.

Every time you swore he was sending the same signal back.

… None of it gave you more confidence then the look on his face at this exact moment.

You leaned up and he met you halfway. His lips were full and warm, melting against yours and not a sound in the world to signify that you hadn’t just died and landed in Heaven. He moved quietly, slowly. Taking his hand and sliding it against your jaw and up to your hair. His fingertips against your scalp as you lost yourself in every inch of Dean Winchester.

“Wow.” You breathed as he pulled back.

“That ain’t nothing, sweetheart.” Dean’s eyebrows jumped and a grin creeped across his face as he pulled his arms around you.

“Go. Come back fast… I need a sleepover with my best friend.” You smiled as you propped up on your tip toes to kiss him once more.

“There is nothing I want more than that… except maybe to kiss you again.” He said leaning down to come to you this time.

“Go… I’ll be here.” You said as you pushed him out the door. You shut it behind him and spun around. Standing in the silence. Your home felt like home for the first time in months. You inhaled and moved to turn on some music as you began finding anything and everything that reminded you of David and throwing it into a trash bag.

Dean drove down the road and couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. He had wanted to kiss you from the day he met you, but the time was never right. He was with someone. You were with someone. He was afraid to be the rebound, he was afraid to lose his best friend, he was afraid to be rejected.

Today had given him the reassurance that he wasn’t the only one who felt like there was so much more between the two of you than just a friendship. He knew that this journey to get you back to your old self would be a tough way to start, but he was willing to put in whatever time and effort he needed.

He had grabbed an overnight bag with a few essentials and stopped to get your favorite take out, and a bag of chocolate candy to binge on all night long. He decided to skip out on the tequila for tonight, knowing you were better off taking a night to process things.

Just as he was back in the car his phone rang, he looked down and smiled.

“Sammy, man you aren’t gonna believe this b-“

“Dean, Wait. Listen.”

“What’s wrong?”

“He made bail. He was gone by the time I got here. Are you still with (Y/N)?”

“Dammit!! No I’m on my way back now. Get someone there now!”

“On it.” Sam said before hanging up. Dean punched the gas.

You had just started pulling his clothes out of the laundry room when you heard the door close.

“In here, De.” You called out. Hoping he could hear you over the music. After a minute you didn’t hear or see him, so you moved towards the living room.

You spun, realizing there was no one there.

Ice ran up your spine and you froze as you felt someone’s breath on the back of your neck.

“What’d you tell your little bartender buddy?” David growled from behind you. You knew you couldn’t fight. You knew you couldn’t talk him down. Your only chance was to run.

You thrust your elbow backwards into his ribs and ran for the front door, but he grabbed you and knocked you to the ground. You yelled and struggled to get away, but he dragged you into the kitchen.

“I told you to get him the fuck out of our lives… but no. You just don’t listen do you?!” He yelled as he grabbed you by the hair and pulled you to your feet.

“Let me go!! Please… just leave!” You begged.

“You think you can fuck with me and not have to answer for that? I loved you, (Y/N). I loved you when no one else did… and this is how you repay me?”

“That wasn’t love.” You growled back.

“Take off this fucking shirt.” He said as he ripped it off of you and threw it to the ground when he realized you were wearing Dean’s shirt from the early evening dinner you had at Donna and Benny’s.

“Don’t touch me!” You yelled as it was ripped off of you. Leaving you in a bra and shorts again.

“What did you tell them?!”

“Everything!! I told them about all of it! Every single time you hurt me.”

“Well… you are just going to have to go back and explain to them that your friend forced you to say that because he didn’t want anyone to found out it was him. Understand me?”

“And if I don’t?”

“Don’t test me.”

“I’m not lying for you anymore.” You forced the words out, even if they shook with fear.

“Okay. Fine.” He nodded up and down calmly. Then he lunged and grabbed you by the throat, lifting you off the ground against the counter as you struggled to get air. “A dead bitch is a well behaved bitch.”

Every part of your body screamed for air, your vision beginning to blur, but you just kept reaching, until finally something fit into your hand, you used every bit of strength left in your body to plunge the knife into his ribs.

He dropped you to the ground and you coughed, trying to drag the air back into your lungs as he collapsed in front of you. Blood splattering down the cabinets and onto you as your hands moved to shove him away.

He stared at you, gasping as the knife stuck out of him where he laid on the ground.

You felt numb. There was something ringing above you. You slowly pulled your phone off of the island in the center of the kitchen and sat back down on the floor across from David. Staring back at him as he stared at you.

It was odd… you had watched people die.

But you never felt like it was this slow. This real. This quiet.

“Dean.” You said calmly as you answered.

“(Y/N) go lock the doors right now! I’m 2 minutes away, but he’s out! I don’t know where he is.”

“Dean.” You said once again, no sense of urgency. “Send an ambulance.”

“Wha-“

You dropped the phone before you could hear what else he was going to say. Just staring as his chest moved in an irregular pattern. The pool of blood moving closer and closer to you.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N) where are you!?” Dean yelled as he charged through the door in a panic. You sat silently just staring at David as Dean rushed around into the kitchen and was suddenly in front of you.

“Oh God… oh God are you hurt?!” He said noting the blood on you.

“Not mine.” You said continuing to stare forward.

“Look at me sweetheart. Look at me, what happened?!”

“He tried to kill me.” You said not able to pull your eyes away from the blood in the floor. Dean continued to move around the room. Say things to you, or about you… you weren’t really sure.

Other people… cops. Paramedics. They came in one at a time. You watched as they rushed to David and began to work to stabilize him and load him onto a stretcher before wheeling him out of your house.

Still you sat on the ground.

“Sam she won’t move… she won’t talk.” Dean’s voice finally stuck out to you in the chaos now that David was out of the house.

“She’s in shock, the other ambulance is almost here.” Sam responded. Dean moved back towards you.

“(Y/N). Listen… we gotta move. We gotta get you up, okay?” Dean said as he pulled your hands. Your body responded and stood with him. He walked you out the front door and to the edge of the street where another ambulance pulled to a stop in front of you.

Several hours later the sun was up and you were walking back through your front door, Dean at your side every step.

“Yeah. No. We’re gonna get cleaned up and then go stay at my place.” Dean said into the phone. “She’s banged up. Went into shock, but she’s better… Yes. I promise, Donna. Okay. We’ll call you later.”

“Donna and Benny?” You asked as he followed you into your bedroom.

“Yeah, they were worried about you.”

“I’m sorry. For all of this.”

“Hey. Don’t be. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah.” You said as your fingers traced the new bruises around your neck.

“C’mere.” Dean reached for you. You fell into him softly. “Let’s get you cleaned up, then I’ll take you to my place and I’ll take care of those, okay?”

“I just want to wake up and the last six months of my life be a bad dream.”

“I know, but it’s over. He can never touch you again.”

“I almost killed someone.” You said with a tremble in your voice.

“Damn right you did, you defended yourself. YOU saved you this time. Don’t you dare forget that.” Dean assured you firmly.

“He was going to kill me.” You whispered.

“He’s never coming back, (Y/N).” Dean said a little easier this time.

“I don’t really know how I can ask any more out of you today, but can you help me?” You asked pulling away and nodding to the bathroom. Dean nodded and kissed your cheek. He pulled you in and turned on the water, getting your towel out and a set of clothes on the bathroom counter to change into once you were finished. He helped slide your shirt off over your head and pulled the clip out of your hair, letting it fall.

“Do you want me to unhook this?” He said tracing along your bra as he stood behind you. You nodded. He undid the small clasps and you let it fall, your arms crossing to cover your chest. Dean stepped back slightly. “Go ahead and get in. I’m right here.”

He turned to face the other way and you slid off everything from the waist down before stepping under the hot water, letting yourself get adjusted.

“You okay?” Dean asked from the other side of the frosted shower wall facing away from the door, trying to maintain your privacy.

If it were anyone else.

You would have sent them away.

You would have wanted to be alone.

You would drop to the floor in a ball and cry until your body had nothing left to give… and while you were sure that part was still going to come at some point, you knew exactly what you wanted for now.

“Dean.” You called out to him, you slid the shower door to the side. Dean turning to face you, struggling to keep his eyes on your face but there was so much worry in them. So much care and concern in the way he looked at you that you knew he’d keep them glued above your neck unless you gave him a reason not to.

“What is it sweetheart?” He asked after a moment of silence. His heart beat a hundred miles an hour being so close to you, but he knew that you were both a ways off from wanting to push things too far or too fast.

“Come help me, please?” You mumbled as you reached forward to the hem of his shirt and pulled it upwards. Dean understood and pulled out of his shirt before sliding off his shoes. You reached down and undid his belt buckle, allowing him to slide everything off easily before stepping into the shower with you. You stepped back under the water and pulled him closer to you.

“You sure?” He asked. He might as well have been carved by an angel. He was perfect in every way, and yet he stood here in front of you. How did you ever get this lucky?

“Only if you’re sure.” You said back with a small smile, suddenly self conscious and rethinking the idea of being naked with your more than a friend-best friend.

“I’ve never been more sure in my life, beautiful.” He replied as he stepped closer to you and let his hands slide down to your hips.

“Me too.”

You leaned into him and let every last touch of David wash down the drain as Dean carefully helped you wash. He was slow and gentle when he touched your neck, helping to wash your back and your hair. When you felt thoroughly cleansed from the last 24 hours Dean reached out and wrapped you in a towel before grabbing his own. You grabbed him by the hand before he could step out.

“Hey.” You mumbled, pulling him back to you as you let your lips fall against his. Unsure where you stopped and he began, as if the two of you new the other’s movements before they even happened. You pulled back reluctantly. “Thank you. For everything… I promise. I won’t always need to be rescued.”

“I’d rescue you every day if I had to, let’s get out of here.”

THREE WEEKS LATER

“Sweetheart, can you grab me the milk?” Dean asked as he whisked some eggs in a bowl.

“Here ya go.” You reached around him to set it on the counter, sure to sway slightly as you walked past him.

“You know that drives me insane when you wear that shirt.” Dean said eyeing you up and down.

“Says the man in nothing but boxer briefs.” You countered. “You know I can tell your dick is big even in the jeans.”

Dean rolled his eyes playfully and shook his head at you.

“Are you working this weekend?”

“Just Saturday. I made sure not to sign up for any Sunday’s so we won’t miss family dinner. I figure I’ll just come to the bar when I get off tomorrow night.”

“Okay, do you have an appt with Dr. Novak today?”

“Yeah.” You sighed softly. “I think you’d really like him. He said eventually I can bring someone to my sessions. Just wants to hammer out the hard parts first.”

“I’m fine either way. Just proud of you for going.”

“Well it’s not like you gave me much choice.” You glared slightly.

“This isn’t something either of us were going to be able to save you from… the mind’s a powerful thing. We needed help for that one.”

“I feel like that’s your round about way of calling me crazy, Winchester.”

“Would it help if I told you I was crazy too?” He grinned.

“Shut up.” You smirked sipping on your coffee. “You sure you don’t mind me moving in? Its still kinda early and I don’t wanna mess up this good thing we got going.”

“If I had only known you the three weeks we’ve been dating- yes. Bad idea. But I’m positive that I want my best friend for years to sleep over every night.”

“Okay. Just warning you that I don’t clean on the days I work.”

“That’s fine.” Dean chuckled.

“What would I have been without you?” You smiled softly.

“Hey. Again… just loving my best friend the same way she loved me first. I always told you that I got you, forever. I meant that Sweetheart.”

“Love you.” You said as you leaned over and kissed him.

“Love you too.” He said as he stepped back and cracked an egg over your head, busting out in laughter at your shocked face.

“Oh. You’re gonna pay for that one.” You said climbing over the counter with a grin.

[archivewilliamrikerstblog]

Have Fun Otherwise? - William Riker x Reader

Word Count: 700+

Rating: SFW

Summary: Even after having spent the better part of the night playing Poker with his friends; William Riker still comes to see you.

Author's Note: I really like the man's beard okay

- - - - -

Off-shift and already settled for the night, you laze about on your couch reading when you hear the chime of the door. Rising from your comfortable position you call for the door to open, revealing to you William Riker.

"Y/N. Sorry, I know it's late-" Riker is quick with an apology, he hadn't expected you to still be up and seemingly waiting for him. At least it was better than having woken you, that he is sure of.

"Will it is fine. Come on." You didn't need Riker to explain himself, already knowing where the First Officer had been all night. It would be a lie to say you hadn't been waiting up on him. Riker had a habit of still finding you at the end of the day.

You give a jerk of your head as you pulled away from the threshold to allow Riker inside. You almost didn't catch the small sigh of relief the man made before following closely behind. You move to gather your things from the couch; Riker quick to help you tidy up before bed without much of a thought about it.

"So, how did the Poker game go?" You ask, knowing that is what Riker had been up to for most of the night. Although not as frequent now that he spent most of his free time with you, Poker Night was still an event the First Officer held with his friends.

"Beverly is still trying to bait me into betting my beard." Riker mentions, a small amount of contempt crept into his tone. Claim what he may, Riker was quite proud of the hair that adorned his face and wasn't keen of losing it.

"Will I love you both but we can't have that." You turn quickly from your spot to face Riker, eyes wide with mock horror as you spoke,  You couldn't help the soft laughter that edged your tone as you remembered Riker telling you of the first time the Chief Medical Officer tried goading him into playing for the right to keep his facial hair.

"I hope you stay for more than just the beard now Y/N." Riker feigns hurt at your words; despite the crease in his brow the smirk Riker didn't bother to quell giving him away.

"I'm quite partial to the man attached to it, that I promise you." You can't fight the grin that tugs at your lips as you are quick to answer Riker's taunt with playful teasing of your own. It was true, while you did enjoy the beard - it was the man you were in love with.

Riker's chin jerks up slightly as something akin to satisfaction flashes in his eyes. Yet before he can rile you up further, you pass Riker his sleep clothes from a drawer and shove him towards the bathroom. Chuckling, Riker complies and begins his nightly routine.

"Have fun otherwise?" You inquire from the spot you had taken up at the end of the bed once Riker reemerges from the bathroom; dressed for bed and teeth brushed.

"Of course! Why don't you just join us next time?" Riker replied as he made his way back over to you

"Will, we've been over this. I don't play Poker. Plus, I don't want to cut in on your time with your friends." Having gotten up, you pause in your task of pulling down the covers to turn back to the taller man while you speak; voice soft and reassuring as you reject Riker's offer.

"They are your friends too. You can just sit in on a game - they won't mind." Riker's brow furrows once more at your words and his voice adopted a softer tone. He reached out to place a hand against your arm, the warmth of his palm comforting against your skin.

"I know, but this is different. This is your thing." You reach for the hand on your arm, and he removes it to twine his fingers with yours. Your eye catch his as you speak, not missing the subtle concern and hope dancing there.

"Just ask them first maybe?" You relent, unable to refuse those expressive blue eyes of his for another time.

"Don't worry. I'll ask before the next game. I'm sure it will be fine." Riker's face lights up in a grin as he speaks. Releasing your hand to do so, he nudges you into bed.