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saffron0v0 · 10 months

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1st patient, Shinazugawa Sanemi!

Sanemi: *exits the room*

???: !

Sanemi *turns his head and sees a young woman* uh yes, urm hi.

(I hc sanemi to be more awkward around women than genya, but is good at hiding it)

???: I'm sorry I didn't see you there! Good day to you, sir! I suppose you're the famed wind hashira. Would you like to follow me?

*they enter a room and ??? Closes the door*

???: oh dear I don't believe I introduced myself! My name is Haga Sayaki, pleasure.

Sanemi: likewise

*they sit down, and Sayaki hands him a paper he could fill out so she can base his treatment off of.*

(in my au he can read and write, it makes things easier)

Sayaki: I would just like you to know that whatever you tell me here will not be leaked out, your privacy and recovery are my top priority. While you fill the sheet out, can I ask you a few questions that aren't included in the paper?

Sanemi: *slowly nods*

Sayaki: great! I'll start. How old are you shinazugawa-san? I'm 23.

Sanemi: *mutters still feeling awkward* I'll be turning 22 soon.

Sayaki gives him a sad stare. That said 'how young.'

She continues to ask questions like:

'how long were you a demon slayer?'

'Around 5 to 6 years'

'do you have any hobbies other than demon slaying?'

'... I collect beetles *he mutters with a flush*'

'what a fun hobby! I love insects, they are very fascinating.'

'are you married? I was married 3 years ago'

'no.' *curt and firm, interesting, Sayaki was taking mental notes*

And they go back and forth for a while until he finished filling the sheet out, pausing every once in a while asking if he really had to answer some questions, to which Sayaki responds that it's his choice but it might differentiate her treatment approach. He ends up answering most of the questions, leaving out the familial relationship category.

Sayaki reads the paper and slightly nods.

Sayaki: Shinazugawa-san, it seems to me that you have a struggle with keeping relationships, and I've heard rumors of your brother. I'm so very sorry for your loss. You have my deepest condolences.

And a moment of silence was between the two before Sayaki spoke up.

Sayaki: I also heard another rumor... It said you weren't on the best terms, so could you tell me about that?

Sanemi:....

Sayaki: Shinazugawa-san. Here you'll have to eventually get out of your comfort zone, so take your time, I'll be waiting for your answer.

Sanemi stays silent for a few minutes, contemplating, not wanting to talk about it, but also feeling like he should make the most of this, since he'd probably never get another chance to let it out. He goes back and forth in his head before ultimately deciding to decline.

Sayaki: I see... I suppose you're still not ready to talk about that, no worries, if you ever feel ready, you can come find me later, I'll be working here as a helper, so I'll be here more often.

Sanemi: *nods dismissively*

Sayaki: as for my opinion, I think that changing your usual atmosphere, and taking long walks, picking up new hobbies would be very calming for you, you seem to be very stressed and rather troubled, so being in calming atmospheres would be better for your mental health. I'll remind you, my office is always open, so if you want someone to talk to, or even have tea with, I'll make time.

Sanemi: I see, thank you for your time. * he quickly bows and raises his hand indicating he will be taking his leave.*

Sayaki: It is my job to help, have a delightful day.

Sanemi exists and sighs loudly, he then starts silently scolding himself while heading to the garden. It was a relatively calm place, so he thought he'd go sit there a little.

Sayaki: *leaves to go to tell aoi to call the next patient, she spotted sanemi on the way, but she felt like she shouldn't interrupt*

Sayaki: Aoi-Chan! Please send in the next patient.

Aoi: of course, Sayaki-san. *she says slightly sweat dropping*

2nd patient, Agatsuma Zenitsu!

(I don't like how the art of Sayaki came out, I think that if I drew it on paper it would be better, I'll retry to draw it next time)

Edit: I changed the way the skit concluded, because it was probably not the best, I don't know any thing about psychology, but after some character study, I now know that Sanemi won't open up to someone he just met right off the bat, even if it is a doctor. Even if he did, I don't think it'd help him, it'd feel forced. And let's be honest, opening up about your decade old trauma is literally impossible to someone like Sanemi.

#kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinazugawa #Mentioned shinazugawa genya #Therapy #Sanemi shinazugawa is too young for this.#Idk how to write therapy #Future hashira au #Oc #Sayaki Haga

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flowercrowngods · 1 year

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yearning hours (b-side) — in which being in love can feel like the greatest tragedy of all until you learn that you’re not alone (or: bravery, despite everything)

🤍 also on ao3

Steve comes to the quarry when he needs to think. He comes to the quarry when he needs to not think. When he needs to feel this rush of adrenaline that feels so much like monsters are real and the world has turned upside down. Except he isn’t going to die here, sitting on the cold ground, legs dangling over the abyss.

He’s not going to die, but life stops for a moment all the same.

And Steve relearns how to breathe. How to think. How to not think. While the darkness below him swallows it all. The pale light of the moon is not enough to reach the ground hundreds of feet below, or to chase away the complete and total darkness that meets his eyes when he looks down there.

It’s all-encompassing, this darkness, the vastness of it; Steve sometimes feels like he becomes part of it. Just for an hour or two. Just for the night.

The cold air that hits his face makes him shiver for a second, and reminds him that he used to think the darkness at the bottom of the quarry had a life of its own. Hell, maybe it does. With what they’ve seen, what they’ve fought, who’s to say there’s nothing down there? Maybe that’s what draws him here so often.

Does the living darkness know his secrets like the darkness in his room does? Does it listen to him, does it care? They’re stupid questions, Steve knows. But they carry a hopefulness he wants to preserve. Something that survived the Upside Down, that survives the nightmares and the flashbacks and the post-traumatic stress, as Hopper and Owens call it.

There’s something primal about sitting on the edge of such vastness, so much so that it makes his heart beat faster, his breath come shallower, like he is just a second away from falling. Like he has to savour this; this second, this moment, this life, because beyond it, around it, below it, there is only darkness.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath and lets it all out until his lungs ache. The silence is absolute. He feels like the only person on the planet — but not in the bad, painful way that’s been hiding in the back of his mind for as long as he can remember.

If he only breathes like this for a while longer, lets the feeling settle, lets the thoughts come and bring emotions with them, he knows that soon the tears will fall.

Tears, because he shouldn’t have to sit at the edge of the quarry in the dark of night just to be able to feel. Tears, because he forgot how to be a boy, how to be a person, about three years ago. Almost to the day. Tears, because they all did; but he’s Steve. He can’t let them see. Wouldn’t know how even if he wanted to.

And tears, tonight, because just hours earlier, Eddie fell asleep while Steve made dinner. His arms were curled around the pillow Steve had leaned against all afternoon, and Steve just stood there in the doorway to Eddie’s room, the smell of fresh pasta mixing with that of leather, paperback books, tobacco and laundry detergent that is so purely and wonderfully Eddie that Steve just wants to catch it in a mason jar and open it whenever he needs a dose.

Eddie had fallen asleep, and all Steve could do was look at him. Smile on his lips, ache in his heart that only grew in ferocity until all he could do was leave. Because friends don’t watch their friends sleep. Not like this. Not with their hands twitching by their sides, curled into fists to stop them from reaching out and trailing over soft, warm skin. Friends don’t… They don’t.

So Steve left, pasta untouched. Heart unravelled. Words unspoken.

He left and sped off until he reached the quarry, a safe place to piece himself back together again — but he doesn’t have the heart to leave out Eddie. So every time he comes here and puts the pieces of himself back together, he puts Eddie in the centre. He always does. It’s what keeps getting him in this mess.

But it’s still the closest he’ll get to bravery after the Upside Down; admitting, if only to himself, that he likes a boy. Allowing himself to cry about it. To breathe in and breathe out and have the truth unchanged, unchallenged, undoubted.

He’s still breathing when the all-encompassing silence is interrupted, joined by the unmistakeable sound of tires on gravel. Seconds later, headlights illuminate the night, his arms, the edge of the quarry, but still not reaching beyond that. The car comes to a stop but Steve still doesn’t move, doesn’t turn around, just hopes that whoever it is will just leave him alone.

Lights go out, the engine is killed, followed by the sound of a car door opening and being closed far too gently.

Steve isn’t too surprised when steps approach him slowly, nor when they come to a stop beside him, chasing away some of the cold that’s been resting over him like a blanket.

Instinctively, he knows it’s Eddie. He just doesn’t know why.

“How’d you know I’m here?” he asks into the void, still unmoving.

“Just knew,” comes the reply, and it sounds so soft, so gentle, so understanding that Steve fears he might fall apart and have to rebuild himself once more. Twice in one night. Wouldn’t be the first time. Won’t be the last. “Why’d you leave?”

Because otherwise I’d have crossed the distance and fallen to my knees, brushed a kiss to your forehead and told you dinner was ready. Because otherwise I’d have slid down the doorframe and watched over you, watched you, and the firework of a person that you are even in your sleep. I’d have fallen in love and I’d have fallen, fallen, fallen. So I needed to go where falling is not an option.

Instead of saying any of that, Steve only shrugs. “Just did.”

It’s lame and unfair, he knows, but talking to the darkness is so much easier when there’s not an audience, and Eddie just… he can’t know. Any of that.

“Can I join you?” Eddie asks then, and Steve can hear it in his voice that he would leave if Steve said no.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t; just nods and scoots to the side a bit even though there’s enough room for Eddie to sit just anywhere.

But he doesn’t sit just anywhere, no. He sits down rather clumsily — for which Steve can’t blame him, it is a little scary in the dark, and one wrong move could be your very last — and ends up with his arm and shoulder pressed to Steve‘s, their legs so close he can feel Eddie‘s warmth through the denim.

It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s dangerous, so close to falling, and Steve scoots to the side, breaking contact. Breathing carefully.

Eddie‘s eyes are on him, he can feel it. He doesn’t react. It hurts, his entire body aches with how close he wants to be. But it’s too much, even for himself to bear. Putting all that on Eddie would be enough to take them both down to the bottom of the quarry, and lower still.

So he swallows. All the words he cannot say, all the thoughts that lump together and clog his throat.

“Are you okay, Stevie?” Eddie asks, and Steve just shrugs again.

“Sure.”

“Right,” Eddie whispers, then sighs. It’s not a heavy sigh or a judgmental one, but it makes Steve flinch all the same.

Too much. Too fucking much even unknown.

Silence falls over them, the quarry working its magic — or its curse — even on Eddie Munson. Steve wonders if it suffocates or liberates him, but he doesn’t dare to ask. It would take too much explaining for the question to make sense, too much revealing himself, too much of… Just too much.

He wants to ask. To say something. To scoot back over again, closer to Eddie, and lay his head on his shoulder, bask in his warmth and withstand the magic, the curse, the darkness.

Withstand it, because that’s what Eddie does. He is brave, despite everything.

And Steve is just the boy who sits with darkness at night because he doesn’t know how to be brave anymore, not when there’s no question of life or death. He forgot all about everyday-bravery.

But Eddie didn’t. He’s still there, still smiling and laughing and teasing his way through life and into Steve’s heart and soul.

And Steve doesn’t know what to do with it. Doesn’t know what he can do with it. Doesn’t know how to ask.

It’s no surprise, then, that it’s Eddie who does.

“What are we doing, Steve?” He sounds a bit resigned about it, and it makes Steve hide away in himself even more, focusing on the darkness beneath him rather than the light beside him — they both leave him blinded at equal measure, but one of them doesn’t ask him questions to which he doesn’t know the answer.

“What do you mean?” he asks after a while, his voice a little off. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling. Apprehension, maybe. Caught. Uncovered. Exposed.

Beside him, Eddie sighs again, just a little bit, but Steve has always hated that he keeps making people sigh. Makes him feel so fucking small, so incredibly useless.

He raises one leg from the abyss to rest his chin on his knee, because suddenly he feels so heavy that he needs the physical reminder that he’s not about to fall. One foot on the ground. Steady, secure, a great illusion for now.

“Sorry,” he whispers at last, because Eddie hasn’t said anything, has only sighed and created a silence that’s so loud it can probably be heard at the bottom of the quarry, and Steve feels like the silence is his fault this time.

“What for?”

“Dunno,” he confesses, lies, concedes as his house of cards begins to crumble for some reason. The heaviness wanders from his throat down to his heart and settles there, making a home for itself, casting out all the lightness that usually comes when he’s around Eddie.

But it seems he’s reached his breaking point. It seems he can only pretend to be okay for so long, pretend not to yearn and ache and long for intimacy and tenderness. It seems he can only put himself together again, rebuilding himself around Eddie at his centre, until it would break apart for good. Burst out of his heart, dismantle him piece by broken piece until all that’s left is a broken boy, yearning.

And so he can’t stop the tears even if he wanted to. They’re kind in their silence, streaming down his face without demand for sobs or sniffles. Just breaking free, a simple displacement reaction. Following the physics of emotions.

“Hey,” Eddie whispers, reaching out to wrap an arm around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him into his side. There’s that warmth, that touch, that gentleness he’s been craving — and there’s that sob he’s been suppressing. “Hey, Stevie, it’s okay. You’re okay. You can talk to me, you know that, right?”

He shakes his head into the warmth of Eddie’s neck, wiping dejectedly at his tears.

“No?”

“No,” he whines, sighs, groans, annoyed with himself.

“Don’t want to? Or can’t?”

Both. Neither. All at once.

He shrugs again, still leaning against Eddie.

Eddie, who turns his head slightly and brushes his lips over Steve’s hair in what can only be described as a kiss. Except, it can’t. It couldn’t. It isn’t.

Steve begins to shiver against him — maybe he’s cold, maybe he’s overwhelmed, maybe he’s both and neither and everything all at once.

“I’ve got you, Stevie.”

And then Eddie kisses his head again, and he stills.

“You can’t kiss me, Eddie,” he says, voice still thick, but steadier this time. No more sobbing, no more whining. Just a broken boy, yearning. Always, always that.

Eddie freezes where he’s holding Steve, only his arm still moves in soothing, rubbing motions — warming him, holding him, saving him. Always, always that.

“Sorry,” Eddie says this time. Except it’s wrong. It’s so wrong, and Steve leans back to look at him. It’s impossible to make out his expression in the darkness, but he tries nonetheless.

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispers. “Just…” He gestures vaguely, not quite sure what the just entails. Just mean it. Just do it right. Just don’t do it out of pity. Just leave me alone until I’m over you even though we both know I never really will be.

“Just?”

Steve shrugs. Whispers, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t hide, Stevie.” Be brave, Stevie. Be brave like me.

God, how he wishes. How he longs. How he aches.

“You don’t have to hide, not from me.”

Steve huffs and says, before he can stop himself, “Especially from you.”

Eddie pauses and Steve freaks out a little bit, even before Eddie asks, “Why?” He sounds wounded. Small. He shouldn’t sound like that. Never.

“Because you’re gonna see otherwise.”

“See what?”

That I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Besotted. Enamoured. All the big words you like to make fun of. All of them and more.

“Me.”

There’s a beat where nothing happens. Maybe time stops, maybe reality resets itself, settling in more comfortably in anticipation of vulnerability’s fallout.

And then Eddie takes his hands, reaching for them in the darkness and finding them with ease. Like he’s done it many times before. Because he has. Just never like this.

“Steve,” he begins, and Steve wants to run again. To hide, to confess to another void, and make Eddie forget this conversation ever happened. “I think I already do.”

What? No. No, you can’t.

When Steve doesn’t respond, Eddie continues, seemingly gathering himself and his thoughts as he goes. Always so much stronger, so much braver than Steve.

“I already do see you. The way you smile at me, light up the whole room with it. The way you hug me, always a little too long, but never long enough if you ask me. I see you blushing, I see you going out of your way for me, and… And I think, if you knew how to look, you’d see the same in me. Because, uh. Because I like seeing you. And I like… I like you. Not in a friends kinda way. In a way where I wanna sit beside you all night and talk about deep shit, but I wanna run my fingers through your hair when we do. I wanna play with your fingers when we do. I wanna kiss you when we do, because there’s deep, heavy, traumatic shit everywhere, but there’s also you. And I don’t want one without the other. I want you. In that exact way that I see you looking at me, wanting me, too.”

Eddie swallows, a little breathless beside him like Steve’s not choking on emotion himself.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Eddie whispers then, pressing and desperate and knowing. “Tell me you don’t like me in a way you think you shouldn’t. Tell me I don’t see you.”

He shakes his head, slowly, frantically. “I can’t.”

“Because it’s true?”

Steve’s nodding now, just as frantic, leaving him disoriented and falling, only anchored to Eddie who’s still holding his hands.

“Yeah,” Steve gasps, rasps, whispers. “It… I’m. I don’t.” It’s he who swallows heavily now, needing a second or an eternity to process Eddie’s words. “You really mean that?”

Eddie nods. He can feel it, somehow.

“I don’t know what has you so scared,” Eddie begins. “Except the obvious, of course, but I feel like that’s only a small chunk of it. But you gotta believe me when I say that I mean it. I like you. So much it makes me stupid sometimes.”

Steve huffs, but it’s a smile this time. A real one. Tinged with sadness and heaviness and disbelief still, but a real one nonetheless.

“I wanna tell you. All of that. Everything, in my own words. And I will, but… Eddie, I’m—“ Steve starts with a quivering voice but shuts himself up before he can ruin this.

I’m broken. I’m not sure if I can let you. I’m just Steve. I’m bullshit. I’m…

“I’m tired.”

It has a double meaning, here at the quarry — but he doesn’t mean it like that. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He won’t.

“Can you just hold me?” It is perhaps the closest to bravery he’s going to get. Tonight, or always. But it’s enough. It can be enough.

Eddie hums and Steve can hear the smile, can feel how some of the heaviness inside him dissipates with it.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Steve shivers again as he shifts, lying back so it’s only his legs, bent at the knee, that dangle over the abyss now. Eddie joins him, wrapping his arms around Steve’s middle and rearranging them so Steve rests half on top of him. It can’t be comfortable, but Steve doesn’t mention it.

They lie there in silence, and Steve allows himself to let go of the tension in his bones as he feels Eddie’s hands travelling across his back in a tender caress. He doesn’t quite believe it’s real, doesn’t believe he’ll get to keep it beyond this moment, and can’t quite savour it the way he wants to because surely he will lose this, too. Surely Eddie will realise and come to his senses and—

“Do you really mean it?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, leaning up slightly to brush his lips over Steve’s temple. “Yeah, Stevie. I really, really mean it.” And then, after a while, “Will you come back home now?”

Back home. Home to Eddie and Wayne. Home, because Eddie cares and wants and bravely, bravely asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says.

Another kiss to his forehead. “And will you stay?”

It is Steve now who leans up, hovering above Eddie to meet his eyes through the dark. “I will. I do.” And then he slowly, carefully captures Eddie’s lips with his own, sealing the promise and receiving one in return.

Kissing Eddie is a lot like falling, he realises. But there are arms wrapped around him, holding him, never wanting to let him go — so maybe it isn’t falling after all. Maybe it’s flying.

At home in his bed, Eddie holds him some more, running fingers through his hair long after Steve has fallen asleep.

They’ll make it work.

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #dio words #idk how to describe the mood of this so uh feel free to tell me if you find out #in which being in love can feel like the greatest tragedy of all until you learn that you’re not alone #they need so much therapy your honour #i keep wanting to write this one steddie at the quarry scene but it always gets derailed :/

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birchlogz · 2 years

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#hosea matthews #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #i could go into an unhinged rant abt this actuallt i will. fuck u #this started as like a jokey post but like #idk it lead down this whole rabbithole of arthur's emotional maturity #we know john clearly loved hosea but we only ever see arthurs side #and we see how much hoseas mentorship and wit and love influenced arthur #and although he had a similar influence on john and guided his moral compass i think john is much less mature about processing #and understanding his emotions... like he wouldnt have ran away if he had those skills.#and this idea of arthur figuring out that he thinks of dutch and hosea as parents. that its ok to have parental figures #that arent your biological ones and them being there in your life doesnt replace the connection he had with his mother #i just think john would struggle internally with that concept a lot #he wouldnt want to accept that. he is afraid of having a new family.#this boy needs therapy #anyways #my artz #someonewhos smarter than me should write a fic abt that noneed to credit me i just need to see that in the world #if it exists link it to me now i NEED to cry over it

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rosenbergamot · 2 months

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The Sand Permits; or, conversely, Scar and Grian are unable to communicate like normal people

“I don’t like my permits,” Scar says, something unreadable on his face. Grian adjusts his tie, then the papers on his desk., and prepares for another long Scar rant. Whatever it is he’s ranting about this time, Grian’s not sure he can tell, but based on his tone it has to be something difficult for him. “It’s annoying-- it gets in everything! Gets everywhere! I need something else.”

There’s a loaded quality to that sentence. Grian raises his eyebrow, his hand coming to clutch his pencil as if it can help him through this moment. “What permit do you even have, Scar?”

The answer is something he should have expected from the way Scar is looking at him. The hurt in his eyes. He remembers-- and Grian knows that he remembers, and Scar knows that he knows that he remembers-- but it’s never been brought up before, never been shoved too explicitly in his face. Scar keeps it retained to small comments followed by awkward crooked grins that say nothing.

“Oh, you know… just sand.”

Their eyes meet. Scar holds the gaze, as if daring him to say something to him finally-- to acknowledge everything they’ve been through together that he’s only just now remembered. If only Pearl had killed him in Secret Life. Maybe then Grian could have put this off. Oh. Whatever. He’s still going to put it off. Skizz is right there after all.

He studies his nails. “Sand is a pretty good seller, y’know? You’ll have a whole monopoly on it and everything, so I can’t see why you don’t want to go through with it. I thought you liked sand.”

“Sand is useful!” Skizz chirps.

Neither of them say anything for a second, still staring at one another. Skizz scratches at his head.

“Sand is useful,” Scar agrees easily, his voice strangely flat. “I did like sand. I do like sand. But sand hasn’t been the same ever since it came out of the desert.”

His wings puff up but he keeps his voice level. “Of course sand hasn’t been the same since it left the desert, do you even know what the sand went through in that place?”

“How could I not? I was there! I harvested the sand! I built a home with the sand!”

The way Scar’s face wrinkles is very reminiscent of Double Life. Grian wants nothing more than to erase that face out of his mind.

“Maybe the sand didn’t want you to harvest it.” The words are spoken from behind his teeth. His heart is picking up its pace.

And that gets emotion out of Scar. It’s the same as it was back on Monopoly Mountain, when his eyes were red instead of green, his hands shaking with barely concealed bloodlust. “Maybe the sand shouldn’t have killed me, then!”

“Maybe the sand shouldn’t have!” He agrees, throwing his hands into the air. Hurt flashes in Scar’s eyes-- as if Grian didn’t just agree with him and his stupid metaphor! He wraps his arm around himself. His voice gets quieter. “Maybe the sand regrets it. Maybe the sand wanted things to be different, wanted to be with you but just didn’t know how. Maybe… maybe the sand just wants things to go back to being normal again.”

His voice betrays no emotion. He smiles at Grian. “Maybe the sand shouldn’t have broken my heart. Maybe things could be normal then.”

The pencil in his hand snaps.

“Scar, you…” His hand is full of snapped graphite. He drops the pencil onto his desk. Being at a loss for words is a feeling that’s foreign to him. It’s rather uncomfortable right now.

Scar keeps his eyes on him as he tries to formulate a sentence. He gives him longer than he deserves, watching carefully, until finally his smile softens. It makes his stomach drop despite how gentle it is.

“I’ll see you around, Grian.” He turns, cane in hand, and walks out of his makeshift door. As he leaves, he calls back, “and forget about the permit thing! I’ll figure it out myself.”

Then he’s gone. And Grian is left to stare at where he just was and wonder what the hell went so wrong. The permit office is silent, still, the only sound and movement coming from himself-- from his shoulders as they heave with his breaths, with his attempts to hold in the tears that suddenly want to fall from his eyes. He can’t cry, though. There’s work to do.

“Um?” Oh. There’s also Skizzleman. He awkwardly shuffles his feet, still holding a file of forms that Scar hadn’t taken with him. “Was that like… was that a thing? Should I have not witnessed that? I don’t think that was about sand.”

He laughs. It’s hollow. “No, Skizz, I don’t think it was about sand either.”

read it on ao3 here!!

#hermitcraft #hc10 #hermitcraft 10 #desert duo #scarian #they are so dysfunctional to me #hermitfic #idk if thats a tag i just like how it looks #in which scar and grian CANNOT communicate #fanfic #rosie writing #skizzleman is standing there like What........#he WILL be commencing therapy talk after this

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texanredrose · 1 month

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Hey, so, if y'all haven't seen me losing my mind over on AO3, @kambiteydragon somehow infected me with brain worms and I've become slightly obsessed. Show's called Hazbin Hotel (it's on Prime, I think, but the music's on Spotify and banger) and this series was supposed to be an excuse for some smut fics but the murder angel decided she needed character development.

#TRR writes #hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lute #Idk how the ship names for this fandom work #But Lute's gonna be Charlie's and Vaggie's bratty bottom #once she like gets some fuckin therapy #(you mean like get some therapy but emphatically? NO)#I swear I'll actually watch this show by the end of April

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melobin · 1 month

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i do believe you all followed me because of writing sorry you have to deal with the deeply mentally ill girl that comes with it.. slight rant in tags ? i guess ? ily all anyhow

#this year has been so horrible LMAO #every other week something new is popping up #like i thought it couldn’t get worse and then it does #idk how i’m coping (im not)!!#but i really wanna be here and be able to post and write and give you all the good content you followed for but i do genuinely feel like #i’ve been lacking a lot lately and i’m sorry for that #i’m talking to my doctor about upping my meds and going back to therapy #and just trying to do things to make me feel better rather than offing myself #melo will be okay i’m sure of it but im trying my hardest i promise #✧ melody posts

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bunnymallowo · 9 months

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The books Cassian x reader

Prompt: nobody in the I.C has seen y/n all day and they send Cass to figure out what’s wrong

a/n: I’m not totally sure where it’s going to go or how long it’s going to be, I’m just using this to procrastinate from life and escape loneliness. Also cause I just need some fluff rn

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“just a few more minutes…” I said to myself, drinking the rest of my coffee (or other energy drink) before setting the cup down. I hadn’t looked at the clock in hours, to focused on the book I had started. Feyre had suggested this book series to me, and without thinking, I bought the books and started reading them. Usually I'm not one for cliche fairytale stories, for they tend to be predictable. ‘I mean if the guy is going to get the girl anyway, what’s the point of reading it?’ I had been saying to myself as I was walking to the library to find the book.

Surprisingly, I found myself engrossed in the book, following along word by word. I slowly started to imagine I was the main character in the book. The one waiting to be saved by a handsome masked stranger. And the true loves kiss. Oh how I yearned to find my true love. But, much to my dismay, the one I longed for, I fear is too far out of reach.

but maybe he wasn’t as far as I thought.

As I read, I tried to think of different people, who would fit as the hero or the savior in my story. In my head I flicked through images of the people I knew, going through one by one until my mind landed on "Cassian!" I exclaimed softly, a light blush dusting my cheeks and nose. Of course I liked him, who wouldn't, but he was one of my closest companions, and my sparing partner. So I could NEVER say anything about her feelings, lest I drive him away. No matter now much I just wanted him to hold me close.... I shook the thought of the male from my head, and dove back into the book I was reading.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~MEANWHILE DOWNSTAIRS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The group was sitting in the living room, all talking together when Cassian walked in.

"Have you guys seen y/n anywhere?" Cas was looking around, so see if she had made an appearance and joined the rest of the group. Seeing that she clearly had not, Cassian sighed, and went to sit on the bench in the window. He stayed silent, listening to the drifting conversations between his friends. Feyre was talking something about clothes or jewelry that Cass couldn't care less about. Rhys and Az were talking about much more interesting fighting. One of his favorite things was sparing, especially with his friends. Not that he would ever admit it. He sat there, thinking about fighting and sparing, different technique and maneuvers, before he was interrupted.

"Cassian... CASSIAN!" he was being shaken violently by Azriel, who did NOT look amused.

"What?!" he slapped Az's hands away, shaking his head and standing up.

"Rhys is talking to you" Az pointed to the high lord who was trying not to laugh.

"All I was going to ask was for you to check on y/n" Rhys replied, Feyre stood, stretching " Nobody's heard or seen her all day, Go make sure she's okay" Feyre pointed to the doorway to the stairs. Cass rolled his eyes "Why don't you go check yourself?" He replied defensively, crossing his arms.

"Because I don't want to." Feyre replied, retaking her seat in Rhys' lap. Cass huffed in defeat, walking off towards the stairs. Feyre let out a satisfied huff, smiling contently as he walked away. "Go check on her yourself next time.." he grumbled, walking up the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BACK UPSTAIRS~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cassian walked calmly down the hallway, admiring the art placed on the walls, as he made his way to my room. He knocked softly on the door "Y/n?...." He said softly. After only getting a mumble in response, he knocked a bit louder " y/n, if you don't answer, i'm coming in. "

Too engrossed in my book to care, I shrugged it off, not saying anything, but became mighty startled when the door to my room flew open. "ek!" I shrieked when the light from the hallway came flooding into my room, lighting up the mostly dim corridor. Cassian walked in, to inspect the situation.

"Y/n.." He walked towards the bed. me, who was wrapped in a blanket, set the book down, looking up at him "yes?"

"when was the last time you saw the light of day?" he joked, laughing softly at how clearly tired she looked.

"What do you mean? I was outside a little bit ago-.." I cocked my head to the side, confused. "Y/n, nobody's seen you since last night.. its almost lunchtime.."

I threw the blanket off of me, jumping up, startled "what?!" I tried standing up, but ended up tripping over the blanket. A pair of arms wrapped around me, keeping me from falling.I grasped tightly onto him with one arm. "Careful, don't want you getting hurt." he muttered softly, leaning closer to me, to where our noses were almost touching. I tried to calm my breathing, as well as the heat spreading around my face and ears. I tried to speak, but it mostly came out at jumbled stutters.

Cassian chucked softly "shh, you're tired, you need to rest" I huffed softly 'no, I need you to kiss me' I thought to myself, for a moment worried I may have said it out loud. Though my breathing was soft and light, my heart was pounding in my chest, and I was sure Cassian could hear it. If I were to move, even an inch, our lips would touch. maybe I had fallen asleep reading and I was just dreaming, but this seemed so real.

Maybe the lack of sleep had made me delirious, but before I realized what was happening I had my lips pressed against his, and my free hand entangled in his hair. He seemed startled, arms tensing around me, but nonetheless, didn't pull away. I stayed like that for a few seconds before pulling away. "Ah!- ..sorry.." I muttered, going to pull away, but I was held there, I wasn't sure if it was Cassian holding me there, or something inside my head telling me to stay.

Cass, not saying anything, gently set me down on the bed, brushing the hair from my face "don't apologize.." He said softly, gently lifting my head to looking at him " You did nothing wrong" I'm not sure why, but hearing him say hat made my heart swell. I smiled softly, leaning slightly into his hand, shutting my eyes. "You need to get some rest... because i'm betting you didn't get any last night.." he stated, looking towards the small pile of books. I hummed softly, neither in agreement nor disagreement. He chucked softly, lightly tapping my shoulders. "at least lay down first" He smiled, amused. I groaned softly, shifting to a laying position. After putting a blanket over me and turning off the lights, Cass went to head for the door.

"Wait...stay.." I said softly, reaching a hand out towards him, "please.." I muttered quietly. Cassian froze, standing still for a moment, before sighing softly and shutting the door before walking back to the bed and sitting hesitantly on the edge of it. "okay... just until you fall asleep.." He sighed softly, laying down next to me, and wrapping his arms around me. For once I felt comfortable.

Safe.

Happy.

Not long after my head hit the pillow, I fell asleep. Soon after, by mistake Cassian fell asleep too.

~~~~~~~~~~maybe like an hour ish time skip~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Should we check on them?" Feyre asked the group, looking around.

"Maybe.." Az shrugged and Rhys nodded in agreement. Mor shook her head, making an excuse as to why she couldn't go, so the other three went to check. Softly knocking on the door before opening it, Feyre poked her head in, followed by Azriel, that Rhysand. What they was was something they'd NEVERlet go. At least not Rhys and Az. They saw y/n, sleeping peacefully wrapped in Cassians arms. They didn't wake them, deciding to leave the teasing for later

A/N: I wasn't totally sure how to end this, and it seems a bit awkward, but it'll do i guess. I didn't mean to make it so long, but it is, and I had like 4 cups of tea while writing this. HOPEFULLY the next one will be a lot shorter (for those who like shorter oneshots)

A/N 2: I'm glad the way this went, and it was actually A LOT longer than I expected it to be. If ya'll want anything specifically written about (like if you have a prompt idea) feel free to ask me, cause as of now i'm kinda just writing whatever the hamsters in my brain come up with. OH! and lmk if you guys want any x male reader stories, cause i've realized most of them have been geared towards female readers.

#cassian x reader #cassian fluff #acotar #i need therapy #i want someone to love me #its literally 3 am #running on coffee and depression #literally writing while sick #i have a cold #I legit feel so lonely #someone love me pls #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #this was amazing #idk how to tag this #random tags #Why can I write more on here than in actual papers

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