1 - 20 of 76 Works by cafewrites
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Dean’s feet are too slow, take too much time to put one after the other, and by the time he gets to the station door Sam has a loaded shotgun in his hands. It looks weightless.
The boy doesn’t hesitate. He had stopped hesitating with shots long, long ago, even before Jess. Dean had taught him well through all those years of training. Sam points it beneath his chin, fingertip curling around the trigger, and squeezes.
The animal in Dean’s chest lets out a howl so loud and broken he doesn’t realize it’s coming from his throat. He is running, running, and as always he is too late, too fucking late.
Or: A small exploration of Sam's experiences with blood (others and his own) and the fact that Lucifer won't let him die.
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Three months of intensive rehabilitation and the promise of staying clean—as if he had been dirty before, crusted over by filth and immorality—had Frank standing in front of the Center with one hand on his backpack strap and one hand holding up a phone to his ear. The taxi was a few minutes out, and Frank let his eyes unfocus for a while, letting his brain drift above himself in a nice and comfortable cloud of dissociation before the yellow car slowed to a stop before him.
or: Frank Langdon develops a self injury addiction to cope with not being able to rely on drugs anymore.
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He wanted to call out of work. But he didn’t. He knew he would only add to the wounds if he stayed home.
Gavin had tried, really tried to put on a wide smile and not use his wrist much and wear a turtleneck at his desk. But the moment he saw Connor’s deep frown and angry eyes and clenched fist, walking quickly to Fowler’s office, he knew he was screwed.
“Detective Reed!” He heard Fowler call from across the room, quieting the entire office. Gavin slowly raised his eyes to the man. "My office. Now."
Letting out a long suffering sigh, he got up from his chair (leaning on his less wounded side) and walked methodically so as to not limp.
Or: Gavin is on a descent to self destruction that Connor refuses to witness.
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“William, I—,” She broke off and her voiced cracked so miserably that he immediately looked up at her fearful face. Tears were streaming down her face and fogging up her glasses.
William pushed himself up from his chair quickly to round the corner of his desk. She was shaking slightly, her red nails digging into her palms so hard they cut into the skin there.
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Nothing Hurts More Than A Savior's Love by cafewrites
Fandoms: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs
08 May 2025
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“When you left the compound, He vowed to find you,” the man spoke in stilted Japanese. “He consulted with the Wisdom. He loved you Doppo. You were so *special*. And look at you now.”
Another bone cracked loudly and Dazai recognized the sound of knuckles being dislocated. Another pained groan ripped out from Kunikida’s throat.
Flashes of memories crossed Dazai’s mind because of that sound. They had made many, many people sound like that in their lifetime and it made bile scratch at the back of their throat.
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Chase began seeking pain to cope with life at a young age.
Perhaps it was due to the fact that he was constantly surrounded by it, and pain became as comforting as a warm blanket on a chilly night.
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not so different, huh? by cafewrites
Fandoms: 怪獣８号 | Kaiju No. 8 (Manga), 怪獣８号 | Kaiju No. 8 (Anime)
28 Jul 2024
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“Ugh. Is that what this is?” Shinomiya groans. She takes out a chair and flops down on it. “If you pity me for the scars you saw, I will personally slaughter you.”
“It’s not pit—”
“You don’t see the Captain or Vice Captain as weak for their scars, so why the hell should this be any different?” Shinomiya growled at him, but her fingertips shook with suppressed rage at his reaction.
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Atsushi was alive and felt himself ascending with his feet still on the ground.
Atsushi isn’t quite sure if that moment could be called a beginning or an end. To him, it was both and neither.
When he had awoken the following afternoon, Kai was gone. Atsushi would find the green bag in his pocket the following night and wouldn’t hesitate before reaching in.
-- Atsushi struggles with addiction after being introduced to drugs between getting kicked out from the orphanage and finding Dazai.
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“You care about Lucy-chan, don’t you?” The man looks at him, like he wants to say more but wants to ,make sure it was going to the right audience. “May I confide in you?”
Atsushi sits up straight and stiff, ready to listen to whatever he is told, “Yes, of course.”
Or: Lucy isn't coping so well after the Guild and Atsushi understands.
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It takes a while for Ushijima to get used to Tendou and all his intricacies. In fact, there are some days when he starts to wonder if he knows the other boy at all.
Perhaps he had just become well acquainted with a perfectly curated mask. -
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He felt as though there were ants crawling against his skin somehow. He had never been one for hot climates anyways—especially since he had begun wrapping his arms and neck in bandages. Atsushi stared at him with concerned eyes as Dazai pressed a frozen water bottle to his forehead. It was melting quickly under the burning sun, water dripping down Dazai’s face and onto his suit.
- Kunikida takes care of Dazai after he almost has a heat stroke. This entails taking off the bandages that Dazai cares so much about.
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i don't even notice (do you?) by cafewrites
Fandoms: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
03 Apr 2024
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It was after a game when he began to realize just how bad it was becoming—under the hot spray of the shower, he noticed blood smeared across his fingertips, quickly being wiped away by the water. When he stumbled over to the mirrors after getting dressed, Midorma’s eyes scanned over his flushed cheeks. Splotchy red patches appeared on his cheekbones, his fingernails having scratched into his skin so harshly and repetitively that it had peeled off in flakes.
Midorima had gulped and quickened his pace to leave as soon as possible. He thought, back then, that it was an issue that would fade with time.
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The air is tense, and there is obviously a topic neither of them want to broach.
“Why are you sorry?” Kagami huffs, “For scaring the shit out of me again?”
Kuroko gulps, looks at the ground and shifts his weight. “I didn’t mean to…see that, I know it’s personal.”
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Kagami had spent enough time in America to know that the idealized dream was utter bullshit. There were things instilled into the very cellular makeup of his body that only those who has spent a prolonged period of time in America knew.
He hated loud noises. He hated the way chip bags popped, and he flinches every time. He hates the sound of fireworks. He hates how similar they sound to gunshots.
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between the lines by cafewrites
Fandoms: 斉木楠雄のΨ難 | Saiki Kusuo no Sai-nan | The Disastrous Life of Saiki K.
31 Jan 2024
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classic "kaidou's bandages hide self harm scars" fanfic. someone give my boy a hug.
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rewards by cafewrites
Fandoms: 斉木楠雄のΨ難 | Saiki Kusuo no Sai-nan | The Disastrous Life of Saiki K.
15 Jan 2024
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Saiki was staring at him with an unreadable gaze. Kaidou waited a few moments before sidestepping him and saying his goodbyes before Saiki interrupted.
Eating shouldn’t be a reward for good grades, you know.
Kaidou’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. What the hell?
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It isn’t until Goshiki’s eyes go blurry and he can no longer hear the cheering crowds all around the court that he thinks to himself: maybe I went too far.
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Goshiki is autistic because I, autism god, said so. I have given him my stims. Amen.
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And Iwaizumi.
If he knew what kind of images flashed in his supposed “best friend’s” mind, he would probably never speak to him again. That, of all things, was the catalyst he had needed to promise himself not to tell anyone about his diagnosis. It was his problem, his disgusting thoughts that he had to deal with. It was unfair—harmful, even—to place it on anyone else’s shoulders.
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“No…,” Grell whimpered, and William looked up to see a tear rolling down her cheek. She still looked far away, though, and obviously hadn’t cooled down enough to feel less atrocious. “Hideous—” She continued, and William couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at her bizarre behavior.
“What’s hideous? *Me?*” He scoffed. “I thought I was your darling William.”
He took the bottom of one of her white sleeves and dragged it upwards in one fluid motion, just as Grell replied: “No, I am.”
William stilled.