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gothicfied · 2 days ago

Note

can you write a squid game fic or head cannons of other characters finding out the reader is struggling with self harm? If so, thank you and I understand it is a sensitive topics and may be uncomfortable to write.

Squid Game season 2 characters x reader who struggles with sh

Featuring: Thanos / Player 230, Se-mi / Player 380, Cho Hyun-ju / Player 120, Nam-gyu / Player 124, Kang Dae-ho / Player 388, Park Min-su / Player 125, Kim Jun-hee / Player 222

(Trigger) Warnings: Mention/Talk about sh, depression, and things of this nature, this is comfort/angst, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

Summary: Basically what the ask says

A/N: hey! I hope this is what you imagined, sorry if some of these are ooc😞🙏

Thanos / Player 230

જ⁀➴ Before he really knew, he'd constantly make your life a living hell, basically making fun of your shyness. He'd make certain comments to which he knew you wouldn't react to or would try to persuade you to vote in favor of the game containing.

જ⁀➴ You'd constantly tell him off and to leave you alone. It didn't really help, though. Thanos would just sit down next to you and talk your ear off about what he wanted to do with that prize money.

જ⁀➴ When you stood up to leave, rollung your eyes at him, he grabbed you by your wrist.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Thanos blurted out, giving you an offended glare. "You know, it's really rude to just leave a conversation like that." When you tried to get out of his grip, your sleeves rode up your arm, revealing scars you weren't proud of or wanted him to see. When you realized it, he did too, immediately letting go of you.

જ⁀➴ Since Thanos knew what it meant to struggle with mental health he did actually leave you alone for now. But, after the next game, he approached you again and sat down next to you. "I'm sorry about yesterday." he said, patting you on the back.

જ⁀➴ He related to you in a way, but didn't want to ask you about what went on in your private life. Now you just appreciated that he seemingly didn't overstep any boundaries anymore and even checked up from you every now and then.

Se-mi / Player 380

જ⁀➴ You and her had been a duo ever since she came up to you and complimented your looks. Even if you denied it or not, she'd repeat it multiple times, winning you over with her charm quickly.

જ⁀➴ You two had the same mindset on a lot of things, originally voting 'O', thinking you were able to survive one more lousy game. That game was a death scare. Nothing about it was funny anymore. You appreciated your life too much these days to die like this.

જ⁀➴ When the second favor didn't go your way, both Se-mi and you now voting 'X', you felt helpless. One night, the two of you were sitting on her bed, just talking about your past and how you got to this point in the first place. While Se-mi was more secluded, only telling you that 'there are so much worse things she had to face when she got out' you trusted her enough to tell her about a sensitive time in your life.

"I'm not really secretive about this anymore," you pushed your sleeves up, revealing faded scars along your forearm, "but yeah. It was all pretty fucked up. The whole debt thing didn't make it any better." Se-mi looked at you with raised eyebrows, her fingers tracing the lines on your wrists. "I knew you were strong. Don't worry, we'll get out of here."

જ⁀➴ She put in double the work to protect you — She just wanted you to start a better life with that money and be happy, free from debt and all of it.

Cho Hyun-ju / Player 120

જ⁀➴ Hyun-ju noticed from the start that you were more secluded, more prone to cry, panicked easily. It was clear to her that you were struggling with this situation, perhaps even more than that. She made it her task to help you as much as she could, comfort you and keep you close to her and her group.

જ⁀➴ You'd often rant to her and tell her what bothered you after she reassured her she'd take care of anything possible. Hyun-ju was the anker you needed in this shithole and you just appreciated her very much. Everything she did seemed to be out of genuine interest and not just to gain your trust and abuse it.

જ⁀➴ Accidentally, Hyun-ju did catch a glimpse of the scars you were so desperate to hide. She didn't mention it, feeling like it wasn't her place to comment on it. Her heart did break for you, though.

જ⁀➴ From then on, she made sure to speak softer to you and distract you from all the horror around you.

Hyun-ju hugged you tightly against her chest, her arms engulfing your figure. "Tonight things could get a bit scary," she mumbled into your hair while she rested her face against your head, "I just want you to know now rather than find out later. I'll keep you safe, you know that." You just nodded, reciprocating the hug after a few moments.

Nam-gyu / Player 124

જ⁀➴ When he found out, as you didn't make the effort to hide them or anything, he did refrain from provoking you in any way. Nam-gyu related, as he considered his drug use not to be the best thing he could do to his body.

જ⁀➴ Both of you hung around in the same group, since Thanos really wanted you on his team, constantly giving you compliments and flirting with you. It annoyed him to a degree, scoffing everytime Thanos tried to talk to him about how pretty you were, how much he wanted you, give you the world. In Nam-gyu's opinion, he didn't get you.. didn't get what you went through, at all.

જ⁀➴ One evening before lights out, the two of you were teasing each other about something and laughed together — something that rarely occured amongst the other players.

"Want me to show you something?" Nam-gyu asked you, leaning a bit closer. Chuckling, you replied with a 'mhm' and watched him pull up the sleeve of his jacket, revealing skin tracks along the inside of his elbow. You raised an eyebrow: "Oh?" You took his arm to get a closer look, tracing his skin with your fingertips. "Well, we all have our stories, huh?" The man nodded at your wrists, making you look at them too, like you didn't already know what he meant.

જ⁀➴ The both of you grew close to each other, much to his amuse. He was a junkie, you were depressed.. it's like a disaster in the making. But, you didn't care. He was sweet and weirdly kind to you — Not in the way Thanos was. You made sure to hug Nam-gyu a few times more after that, in case it could be the last timd you'd get to do that.

Kang Dae-ho / Player 388

જ⁀➴ You were glad to be on Gi-hun's team from the start, since Dae-ho and you got along really well. As a former Marine, which he was super proud of obviously, he declared he'd protect you immediately after you met, making you laugh.

જ⁀➴ He was kind, strong and funny, but maybe a bit oblivious at times.

During the six-legged pentathlon, you two sat next to each other, cheering the current active team on. Yelling and screaming filled the area as they crossed the finish lind just in time, making everyone erupt in cheers. Dae-ho immediately hugged you with joy, excited to see the five live another day, at least. After pulling back witha laugh, you gave him a small high five with your sleeve rolled back. When noticing scars along your wrist and forearm, the former marine gasped pretty loudly. "What?" you asked with genuine concerning, fearing something was wrong with you. "Oh, I'm so sorry," Dae-ho pulled your sleeve back over your arm. "Dude," he looked at you with wide eyes "it's fine." You needed to hold back a laugh.

જ⁀➴ Dae-ho felt so bad to havs accidentally seen something you've been struggling with, that he couldn't help but apologize profusely. You repeated to him that it wasn't a big deal for you and that you were working on this problem, but he didn't stop nonetheless.

જ⁀➴ You thought it was cute how much he seemed to care for you and how often he came up to you just to tell you that he appreciated you. And Dae-ho did, he didn't just say that to make you feel better.

Park Min-su / Player 125

જ⁀➴ Min-su is just shy over all. When he noticed it, he wouldn't say a thing. He'd be dead silent, maybe even a bit scared to talk to you. He was just scared he'd make it awkward, somehow hinting that he knew about your scars. Min-su was just someone who overthought a lot and even you noticed it.

જ⁀➴ After a bit, it annoyed you — The sudden lack of his presence next to you, the fact that he wouldn't properly talk to you anymore, it was all just weird and confusing. So, you decided to ask him directly.

"Did I do something wrong?" your voice wasn't stern, but Min-su could tell that you were kind of upset. "Ah, no-" he quickly replied back, shaking his head, "it's really not you!" He looked at you with his typical innocent face, making it hard for you to keep pressing him about this matter. "Then what is it, seriously?"

જ⁀➴ He explained what he saw and said that he just felt so sorry. Well, at least he didn't speak to you because he didn't want to hurt or upset you, which was really thoughtful.

જ⁀➴ You'd expect that he would now be the one to comfort you or something, but no it was the complete opposite. Min-su seemed to worried about you and kept asking you how you were feeling or if anything bothered you. You had to keep reassuring him that those times were in the past and that he didn't have to be so worried.

જ⁀➴ It was really cute though, so you let it slide.

Kim Jun-hee / Player 222 (implied fem!reader)

જ⁀➴ Since Jun-hee and you were pretty close in age, you two had found each other right away. You kept telling her that she needed more protection, or at least an ally like you, on her side sincs she was pregnant. You weren't really serious about that, just chuckling when bringing it up, but ut definitely made Jun-hee trust you a lot more. It was a critical situation she was in and she was glad to have you by her side.

જ⁀➴ You even banged on the door in the middle of the night to make the guards take her to the bathroom when she was to shy to do it herself.

As ths pink guard brought you to the womens bathroom, Jun-hee held onto you, clearly being in pain. A few minutes later, you were washing your hands and tried to fix yourself up, looking a bit disgusted in the mirror. "What is it?" Jun-hee emerged from one of the stalls, chuckling. "Man, I look like a damn zombie. Look what this place has done to us." Instead of getting a reply, you noticed that she was staring at your arms, at your scars. You had taken your jacket off for convenience and kind of forgot about them. "Oh, I'm sor-" Jun-hee interrupted you, "No! No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have stared like that!"

જ⁀➴ Obviously everyone had their struggles, but now her own kind of seemed insignificant next to yours. You were doing so much for her and she didn't even know that you were struggling. She should've thought of that.

જ⁀➴ When voicing that thought to you, you felt bad that you made her feel like that. With a hug, it was all sorted out. Jun-hee cared deeply for you and she could tell that you cared for her like that, too. It was nice to know that someone had your back in a place like this.

#squid game #squid game fanfic #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #squid games x reader #squid games #nam gyu x reader #thanos x reader #dae ho x reader #player 222 #min su x reader #player 222 x reader #hyun ju #player 120 x reader #se mi squid game #se mi x reader #player 388 x reader

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zepskies · 3 days ago

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Omg really? Wow, thank you so much. That's honestly amazing to me, considering this was one of the hardest for me to write in Smoke Eater. 💞

(But after reading your wonderful review, thank you for making me cry. 🥹💗💗)

First of all, please don't apologize for the heartfelt thoughts you want to share with me. No matter how long or short, I love hearing what you think about my writing, and this is genuinely one of the best reviews I've ever received, because I can tell it came from the heart.

What's crazy is my mom and I also used to watch Chicago Fire together when she was trying to recover from surgery (where she had terrible complications and wasn't well for a long time). It became her comfort show, and I was happy to introduce it to her/have that bonding time where it kept her from thinking about her pain. But I'm so glad you thought to come here to perk yourself up after a rewatch.

honestly I have so many thoughts for each wonderful chapter but I would feel super guilty for spamming :’) this chapter in particular though, hits me harder than anything i’ve ever read before — not in a bad way!🤍

lol girl that's the best kind of spamming. I'd never be upset with that! 😂 Oh good, I'm glad it doesn't hit in a bad way. I was concerned about that for readers when I was first posting this part of the story. 💙

my mom had epilepsy, and I was her caretaker pretty much my entire life. I connect so much with this story because it, feels like i’m reading a mirror, if that makes any sense at all. with all the doctors and the worrying, it’s written so authentically, which is understandable after reading your author’s note. i’m so sorry you’ve experienced such difficult hardships and losses yourself honey, I offer my sincere condolences. and i’m sending you the biggest hugs 🫂🤍🤍

I'm sending you the biggest hugs right back, friend. I'm so sorry about what your mom went through, and what you went through too. Being a caretaker is not easy. I've seen it enough in my family that that's what I drew from in order to write this, so I'm glad it felt authentic to your experience. 🫂💞

now these lines/parts specifically had me crying like a baby lol. december of 2021, my mom had to have surgery at the start of the month. her recovery was going a little slow, but well. however she passed away overnight, 2 days after christmas, completely unexpected. the day before she had been doing so well too— she had more energy and was more mobile without needing as much assistance. came to find out later that’s something nurses call a surge? :/ either way, those moments in particular really tugged at my heartstrings ❤️‍🩹

I'm so sorry for your loss, my friend. It is blind sighting when it comes so unexpected like that. I haven't shared this publicly, but something similar happened with my grandfather this past December. His health declined suddenly, to the point we had to take him to the hospital. After seeming to get better after a few days, he went downhill even harder, and he passed away in mid-December. It's not the same thing as your situation, but I understand the feeling of "why did this happen like this?" But now he's at peace with my grandma. And your mom is free from her pain and discomfort too. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

this line too. I felt this way for so long after my mom died. I didn’t get the final cause for a while since she passed at home and not at a hospital, and to this day I wish I could go back. wish I could’ve done something different. but SUDEP (or, sudden unexpected death in epilepsy) is completely unpreventable so far. I just find it so cruel that this illness I spent my whole life helping her with, ended up taking her anyway and nothing I did mattered in the end. so reading that line, how she broke down, and everything she had been holding in, it really made my heart ache but I also felt less alone in a way.

And I'm sure you did everything you possibly could, just like the reader in this story. 💞 I didn't know about SUDEP, but I have a family member who takes medication for his epilepsy, so I'm going to be reading up on that. I'm so glad that this simple line made you feel less alone in any small way -- I also thought when I was writing that it not only fit what the character was going through, but that other people who've been caretakers for a family member like this would be able to identify with this feeling as well.

everything that followed, it’s like reading a reflection. I shutdown and just went through the motions afterwards too, but ohhh how nice it would’ve been to have a dean ❤️ his support, how he takes care of her, it’s so heartwarming. and it’s really comforting to read. <3

It's that awful "autopilot" thing that somehow allows us to get through the aftermath, in a way, right? If only we could all have a Dean to support us in those moments. Somehow, reading hurt/comfort fics help me feel better too though. 💓💓

a lot of my family distanced themselves afterwards which, it is what it is. that being said, the sentiment in this story of family isn’t always blood resonates with me a lot. my support system is really small, but they chose to be there for me unlike my blood relatives so, that theme in this story means so much — the way dean’s chosen family shows up for her as well, it’s so sweet. 💖

Ugh really? I'm sorry to hear that. 💙💙 But thank you for pointing that out -- that is the overarching theme of this story, a la SPN style. 🥹 Your chosen family can be just as powerful, if not more, than your blood family. And in this story, Dean's family is basically "adopting" the reader/you into it. 💕

I guess the gist of what i’m trying to say, is I wholeheartedly adore this series and it truly means so much to me 🤍 I appreciate your work so much, and I love the unique feeling each piece of your writing brings 💗💗 I know I may sound like a broken record but truly I don’t think I can ever put into words how much I love your blog. you are an absolute sweetheart, truly a light peeking out between cloudy skies 💞

Wow, I really did tear up of happiness. Thank you. 🥹🥹 I appreciate you right back for reading this story and connecting with it like you did. And I'm so glad that you enjoy my blog!! I've only been here on Tumblr for about 2 years actively, but connecting with people like you is what's keeping me here, and honestly gives me energy to write and express myself when I'm going through hard times.

This chapter specifically was very difficult for me to write for multiple reasons, as you saw in my AN, but again it makes me all the more grateful that this is the chapter you connect with the most. I'm very sorry for your loss though. I'm really touched that this story can give you some small comfort. 💞

(And no it's not too much. Thank YOU for taking the time to share this with me.)

Smoke Eater - Part 11

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst warning. But also major hurt/comfort.

Part 11: “Heart of the Home”

You sat very still.

Your hands were gripped together in your lap when the doctor entered. He was tall and lean and blonde, and he would’ve reminded you of your boss, except this man had a kinder face.

You were sitting on the edge of your grandfather’s bed, hoping the doctor would say the bloodwork and scans came back fine. That they wouldn’t need to admit George into the hospital for further testing. That he could go home in the morning.

But your life had never been quite that easy.

“Okay, George. I’m sorry, but we need to admit you,” said the doctor.

He explained that while the malignant tumor of his cancer had been removed last year, the scans that had been done last month hadn’t been able to detect the bright spots now formed on George’s lungs and lymph nodes.

The oncologist would have to confirm, but you all knew where this was headed. Likely those “bright spots” were tumors.

George nodded slowly at first, taking it all in. He asked what his options were, as far as treatment.

“Your oncologist will go over those options with you,” the doctor replied. “We’re going to move you up to Oncology shortly.”

George thanked him.

And you sat very still.

A hand fell on your arm, finally earning your gaze. George’s face was oddly calm, though the worry in his eyes was for you. You realized that he’d gently called your name, though you hadn’t heard him. Your ears were ringing.

His mouth parted to tell you something, but nothing came out. So instead, he tugged you into his arms, and he heaved a long sigh.

“I guess we’re here again,” he admitted. He let out a chuckle. “The Lord does like his tests…but maybe that car accident was a blessing in disguise, huh?”

You heard his voice, but your mind was buzzing—mainly with the doctor’s words, and with a bone-deep feeling that threatened to consume you.

Your car, your fault. Options, again. Here again.

Your fault.

When you didn’t answer, George pulled away a bit to give you a questioning look.

“Sweetheart?” he tried. You laid a hand on his arm.

“You still haven’t eaten dinner, have you?” you asked. Neither had you, for that matter. “I’ll get us something that isn’t rubbery turkey.”

George blinked at you, confused, with a growing edge of worry.

“Isn’t Dean getting your meds? Why don’t you wait for him to—”

“I’m fine,” you said, already getting up to grab your purse. “I’ll be back.”

George called your name again, but the ringing in your ears was now pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

You made your way down the hall to the lobby at a brusque clip, even with your neck brace on. You didn’t see Dean, but he certainly saw you as he was walking back into the hospital. Frowning, he followed and called out to you.

You slowed when you saw him, and he soon caught up with you. He rested a hand on your back.

“Hey, where you goin’?" he asked.

“We haven’t eaten in a while. I’m going to the cafeteria,” you said. Though you seemed distracted, your eyes meeting his only briefly. It triggered a small spidey sense running up Dean’s spine.

He gave you your prescription pain medication, which you took with a small “thank you.”

“Everything okay?” he asked. “How’s George doing?”

“Fine. He’s resting,” you said. And by the look of you, that seemed to be true. But he spotted the tremble in your hands when you took the pill bottle package from him. It made him stop you when you tried to keep walking down to the cafeteria.

“Okay, you wanna run that by me again?” Dean asked.

You frowned, and your brows knit together. “What?”

“Is there something going on?” he pressed.

You sighed, but you didn’t answer him. You looked exhausted, and like you’d rather swallow your own tongue than speak. You shook your head and laid a hand on his wrist.

“I’m fine. Dean, thank you for everything you did tonight, but you still have to work tomorrow. Go home, get some rest,” you said.

You turned from him again. That was your first mistake. He reached out and grasped your hand to stop you.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he said.

“What?” you said in irritation. Your second mistake was not being able to look at him.

Dean was frowning in earnest now. Worry clawed in his gut, which was also telling him not to let you walk away from him. His grip shifted to hold both of your arms and move directly in front of you. He dipped his chin, trying to get you to meet his eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I need you to talk to me.”

You inhaled a shuddering breath. A wave was rising inside you, threatening to pull you into its undertow. Your eyes burned, red and shining. Dean finally saw it when you raised your head, what little you could. Your mouth began to quiver, looking into his eyes. And it was done.

You could no longer be still.

Dean held you when you fell apart in the hallway.

Dean called out of work the next day to stay with you and George. Gordon would be acting Lieutenant until his next shift, and Dean was sure the man would take full enjoyment out of it.

He couldn’t care about that right now though. He felt that his place was here, being your quiet wall of support while you and George and the oncologist talked about treatment options.

“Normally, at the stage we’re in, I would be recommending chemotherapy,” said Dr. Benton.

“Normally?” you echoed.

“At the rate this is progressing, the treatment would have to be aggressive,” he said. His gaze focused on George. “However, at your age, and the current state of your overall health…at this point, I don’t think the rigors of treatment would be worth diminishing your quality of life.”

“What are you saying?” you asked. Your voice cut like a whip, earning the other men’s gazes.

George was the first one to lay a hand on your arm. “You know what it means, honey…he’s saying it ain’t worth it.”

“Of course, it’s worth it,” you retorted. With your brows furrowed and lips pursed, your eyes went from him to the doctor. “Just because he’s older, we shouldn’t even try? Is that what you’re saying, doctor?”

At that, even Dean drew closer to lay a hand on your back. Meanwhile, George squeezed your arm.

Benton shook his head gravely. “That’s certainly not what I’m saying.”

“How much time would I get, if I started treatment,” George asked, before you could volley further with the doctor.

Benton met the other man’s gaze.

“I’m going to be honest with you, George. You may get a few more weeks, or even a few months. But that is a best-case scenario.”

Dean drove you all home that day, after George decided to formally waive treatment. Both men knew you were angry in your silence, but neither one wanted to press you. Dean was too wary, and George was too tired.

Once he was settled in bed, you hadn’t even left his room yet before you grabbed a notepad off his desk and wandered into the hall. You started to make a list of things you still needed from the grocery store, among other things. Dean took that piece of paper out of your hands.

“Good. I’ll handle this,” he said. “Meanwhile, you can get upstairs, take a shower, take your meds, and get some sleep.”

You frowned at him. “You haven’t slept either, Dean.”

“I’m used to it,” he said, giving you a wink and a slight smile. Overnight shifts could be a bitch at a firehouse, but Dean was no stranger to having his sleep interrupted.

“Listen to him, honey. He’s speaking sense,” George called from inside his room. The bedroom door was still open. He was settling into his bed while trying to stifle a cough. He sipped at a cup of water you’d brought for him.

Still, you looked reluctant. Dean held your arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Come on,” he said. “You were in an accident yesterday. You’ve had one hell of a night. You need your rest, or you’ll be no good to anyone.”

And if you pushed yourself much more, he worried that he’d have to take you right back to the hospital. Dean would rather not have that scare so close to the last one.

He brushed your cheek with gentle fingers. With the limited mobility your neck brace provided, you did your best to look up at him. Your eyes were softer.

“Okay,” you breathed.

“Okay? All right, good,” Dean said. You held onto his jacket for a moment, leaning against him.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You felt the burn of tears behind your closed eyelids. A few of them squeezed past and slipped down your cheeks. Dean held your face, brushing the tears away with his thumbs.

“Hey, I’m here, all right? Just let me help you,” he said. “You can lean on me when you need to.”

“I haven’t had that in a long time,” you admitted. “Part of me doesn’t know how to lean.”

“I get that,” Dean said. But you both knew that there was a long and difficult road ahead. He knew he didn’t have to remind you of it. “Whatever you need, you just tell me, okay? If nothing else, I’ve got a strong pair of shoulders.”

Somehow, you smiled. You pressed your forehead against his chest and inhaled deeply, to steady yourself.

“That you do, Lieutenant.”

You left for your room soon after, but not before you brought him down to you for one more tearful kiss.

Dean then watched you climb up the stairs to your room and nearly went up to help you, but he heard George call his name. Dean ventured back into George’s room and heeded his beckoning hand.

“You hungry? I can scramble some eggs or something before I hit the store. I think I saw two more left in the carton,” Dean said. George shook his head.

“Come ‘ere a sec.”

Dean took the hint and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I just wanna thank you for everything you did yesterday. Everything you’re still doing for us,” George said. He looked exhausted, but whatever he wanted to say was important enough to fight off sleep. He clasped a hand on Dean’s arm.

“You don’t have to,” Dean replied.

George huffed. A smile made his eyes gleam brighter.

“I knew you were a special one, Dean Winchester. Knew it the night I met ya, on your very first date with her.”

Dean blinked, but his pause drifted into a reserved smile.

“How’s that?” he asked.

“Well, I’ll be honest. When I heard that black Chevy rumble like hell’s wheels onto the driveway, I thought I might have to worry about you,” George chuckled.

Dean’s lips quirked.

“But no, it wasn’t that. It wasn’t the pretty flowers, or our mutual love of killer sharks,” George quipped, making Dean’s smile more genuine. “It isn’t your job either, or the fact that you saved her. I just believe that you can see a man’s mettle in his eyes…and I saw it in you when I shook your hand that night.”

Dean took that in for a moment. His hand flexed over his knee. Then he met George’s gaze, though he didn’t know what to say. Sometimes though, honestly was the best bet.

“I’m sorry for what you’re going through,” he said at last. “I can’t imagine…”

George let out a breath through his nose. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

He pointed to a picture frame on his bedside. It was of him and his wife, Sophie, when they were around your age and Dean’s. The couple were sitting on a pier that hung over the edge of the lake in their hometown.

She held him from behind, with her arms wrapped around his neck. Her long hair was being carried by the wind, getting swept into George’s eyes. He was smiling too hard to care.

“I’m ready to smile like that again,” he said. He had tears in his eyes, but he was already lighter at the thought. “I know it’s selfish…but I think I’ve missed her long enough.”

Dean paused. Then he cleared his throat past a small well of something he couldn’t name. He wondered if his dad ever had thoughts like that.

“Well, I’ll let you get your rest,” he said. “I’ll be back.”

George nodded and gave Dean’s arm a squeeze. “All right. Drive safe. Don’t hit any goddamn trees.”

He shot Dean a knowing wink, and it almost had the younger man laughing. George’s sense of humor was something else.

Dean then left George to rest. He made sure he had his wallet, keys, and your grocery list before he left your house and went back to the car. He checked his phone and saw a missed call…from Cas.

Dean was reminded again about Azazel, the kingpin who might’ve ordered a hit on his family. Along with the recent murders and arsons, and the connection from one of the victims to your company, Savage & Co.

Dean returned the call as he climbed into the Impala.

“Dean. Everything all right?” Cas asked. “Sam filled me in about the accident.”

“Yeah, everyone’s okay…well, not really. I’ll explain later,” Dean replied. “Listen, about what we talked about at the bar.”

“Yes.” Cas said gravely. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go to your father about this yet.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” Dean sighed. “My girl just got some real bad news. I know you gotta keep digging into Savage & Co., but can you keep her out of it?”

“Is she all right?”

“Yeah, more or less…it’s her grandfather.”

“Ah, I see,” Cas said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks, man. I’d rather her just focus on what she needs to do right now, you know?”

“I get it. And believe me, we’re keeping the investigation of Nick Savage quiet for now,” Cas said. “But if we find something, or worse, if I can’t…I’ll likely need to question her. She works directly with Savage, and from what I can tell, she’s instrumental in bringing in and maintaining several of his major accounts.”

Dean stopped at a red light and took a moment to rub a hand over his tired face, rubbing his eyes. “You don’t really think she’s got any idea of what that asshole’s into.”

“I’m not saying she does. But in working so closely with him, perhaps she’s noticed things about her boss, and the company. Things she’s kept to herself, out of self-preservation.”

Dean frowned. He didn’t want to think about shit like that. It made his stomach churn at the thought of you working for someone who might be doing business with a crime lord, let alone Azazel.

“Well, when that day comes, give me a heads up, okay?”

“Will do.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

Dean offered to take another day off to help you, but you wouldn’t let him. He needed to go back to work, and you were able to arrange working from home for the next few weeks.

Even Nick couldn’t refuse to accommodate you in a situation like this. He knew very well that if he pushed you too hard, you’d go directly to HR.

So he backed off, and told you to take as much time at home as you needed. It allowed you to put him, and that afternoon in his office, away from your mind to focus on taking care of your grandfather.

Though you called your best friend the day you got home from the hospital, Andréa didn’t come by your house to see you and George until the end of the week. She cited mounting projects at work and some kind of tiff with her cousin Meg, but it all sounded like excuses to you.

However, she was gracious enough to bring dinner for the three of you on a Friday night. She cut up with George like normal, and even got him laughing, until a coughing fit forced him to stop. It also took most of the joy out of the rest of the evening.

While George went up to his room to rest, Andréa later joined you in the kitchen. You were washing the dishes, trying to focus on what you were doing. But your mind was buzzing continuously with future tasks and worries. Always, tasks and worries.

“How are you holding up?” Andréa asked. She rubbed your back, and you gave her a slight smile.

“All I can do is make him comfortable, for as long as possible,” you replied. There were tears in your friend’s eyes, but she dabbed them away with the back of her hand.

“What do you need? Anything, you just tell me,” she said.

It was a little easier for you to contemplate leaning on Andréa. You had been friends with her for years, and she was like another daughter to George.

On the other hand, asking Dean for help always made you hesitate. What you two had was still so new. You worried that this was too much for your relationship, too fast.

“Well,” you sighed as you wiped your hands dry on a kitchen towel. You didn’t exactly want to talk about it, but there were things you had to start planning, even if you didn’t know the exact timeframe.

However, as soon as you opened your mouth to reply, Andréa’s cell phone rang. She held up a finger to you and checked it. To your surprise, she actually answered it.

“Hey, babe,” she replied with a smile. You heard Benny’s deep voice on the line, asking a question. “Yeah, I’m still here. I’m probably leaving soon though.”

She continued her conversation for a few more minutes, but you didn’t hear anything after that. A tension headache was sharp behind your eyes, while anger (yes, anger) rolled hot under your skin. Your lips pursed. You busied yourself with straightening up the kitchen until she continued her call for another few minutes.

“Sorry about that,” she said, finally turning her attention back to you. “So what do you need?”

You put away the last dry dish and turned to her coolly.

“Nothing.”

Andréa frowned. She knew there was something off with you, but her furrowed brows betrayed her confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” you repeated. “Don’t you need to head out, anyway?”

“No, I was just…what’s up with you?” she asked.

“What’s up with me is my grandfather’s dying!” you snapped. You left her in the kitchen, precisely so that she’d follow you out. You grabbed her purse for her and went to the front door, where you stepped out.

Andréa was dismayed and confused as she followed you out onto the porch. She raised her brows at you when you shut the door and crossed your arms at her.

“I know you, and this isn’t just about that. What’s the problem?” she asked.

“You can’t seem to detach from your boyfriend for more than five minutes to just be my friend. That’s the problem,” you replied. “But why should I be surprised? Like always, you’re too wrapped up in yourself to consider anyone else.”

Her brows knitted together; she looked hurt by your words, but also defensive.

“How can you say that when you’ve been exactly the same way?” she accused. “Since you met Dean, I’d be lucky to see you once a week—”

“I call you every week,” you began, counting the list with your fingers. “You’re always busy, but you never give me a day that works for you. And when we do make plans, you usually cancel. Why? Because you’re going sailing with Benny. You’re going to a restaurant, hours away, just to try the new sushi bar beer garden, or whatever the hell. Or you’re going on an impromptu road trip, or you’re planning a summer trip to Greece. Give me fucking break, Dre.”

By now she was frowning angrily, her arms crossed. “You’re mad at me because I have a life?”

“No. I’m happy for you that you found someone. I really am,” you said. “But we clearly live in two different versions of reality. I just don’t have the time or the energy to entertain yours.”

You knew you were being too harsh. You felt incredible guilt as soon as it all left your mouth…but part of you also felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. The problem was, you still felt heavy. Just in a different way.

Both of you were crying when Andréa left your house.

All too soon, a week became a month. In that time, Dean called you every day to check on you. He spent most of his evenings with you and George when he wasn’t on shift. And when he was, sometimes Meg would drop in.

She understood your argument with Andréa, and she respected you for taking a stand when you needed to. She even confided you that she’d had similar frustrations with her cousin lately.

But Meg wasn’t your only visitor. Ellen had come a few times to bring you lunch and dinner, even breakfast, though you hadn’t asked her to. You realized then how close Dean must be to his friends at the firehouse, along with the Harvelles; Ellen also refused to take any money from you for the food.

By the end of the month, George mainly spent his days sleeping. Pain medication made his days nearly painless, but not without struggle. You were doing your best to care for him while continuing to work full-time from home. You were also exhausted, though you refused to admit it.

Today was a better day, however, because George was awake. He was also more aware of his surroundings than usual.

He stopped you from adjusting his pillow so you would sit down on the edge of his bed. He took your hand in his, brushing a thumb over the back of it.

“I’m okay with this, you know,” he said. You pursed your lips, but he stopped you from whatever you were going to say. “I don’t want to leave you. You know that…but I’m so damn proud of you. Your Gram was, and still is…”

Your lower lip wobbled as you tried and failed to keep your tears at bay. They stung in your eyes and slipped past your defenses, down your face.

“The house is yours. But if that’s too hard for you, just sell it,” he said, heaving a deep breath. “It’s just the bones. You’re the heart. And you always have been.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but not a sound would come out. You held his hand with both of yours and stared down at them. Until his voice once again commanded your attention.

“I always thought…moving to the city ruined my daughter. That we should’ve stayed in Lebanon. That maybe I gave her too much freedom, and I failed her somehow along the way,” George said. His eyes were heavy with old heartache. And yet, they soon began to lighten.

“But the day we lost a daughter, we gained one too,” he said. Then, he chuckled a little. “And I know I never failed with you, sweetheart.”

That proved to be too much for you. He pulled you into his arms like you were still a child, and he held you for a long time while you cried yourself out.

Though he eventually spotted Dean hesitating in the doorway. He’d probably let himself in with the spare key you’d given him.

George raised a hand from your back and silently beckoned Dean inside his room. He was getting tired, drifting off thanks to the morphine.

“Hey, lookie there. The boyfriend’s here,” George whispered with a bit of cheek. You sucked in a breath and raised your head, wiping at your eyes before you turned around. Dean met you with an attempt at a smile and a gentle hand on your back.

“Just got out of work?” you asked. He’d been on a 24-hour shift, and you’d missed him. You stood and stepped into his welcoming embrace. He dropped a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah. I’ve got the next couple of days off,” Dean said. He greeted George next and asked him if he needed anything.

“Just some water,” the older man replied.

“I’ll get it,” you said with a sniff. “Need to start dinner too.”

“I already brought some food. You like Italian, right?” Dean said, with a subtle smile. It earned your sigh and a grateful smile. He knew very well that it was now one of your favorites. Italian meatballs always reminded you both of your first date.

“Thank you,” you said, grasping his hand. He squeezed yours with a nod, before he let you go.

When you were out of earshot, George cleared his throat past a wet cough. Dean reached over and grabbed him a tissue. George took it with a nod. Again, he encouraged Dean to come closer.

“I’m not worried,” George said, between deep breaths. “You know why?”

Dean just stared back for a moment. He genuinely had no idea what the man might say next.

“Tell me,” he said.

“My granddaughter’s strong. Always has been, because she had to be,” said George. “But you’re gonna be there when she’s not.”

Dean considered the weight of that charge. The anxiety in his chest felt familiar; like the day he got his badge at the Fire Academy, knowing then the responsibility he held in his hands.

That’s a lot to put on just three months of knowing this girl, came a more selfish thought. It sounded a lot like the guy he used to be, not too long before he met you.

But when Dean thought about you, and what you’d begun to mean to him…

He realized that he only had one answer.

“Yes, sir. I am,” said Dean.

George gave a tired smile. “Good man.”

And that night, an agreement was made.

In the morning, your grandfather was gone.

Dean held you through what he thought was the worst of your heartbreak. But after that dour morning, it was like a switch flipped inside you.

In the days after George’s death, your shutters came up. You threw yourself into checklists and task after task—in funeral arrangements and planning and contacting distant relatives and friends.

This was your failsafe. Your version of “autopilot.” And these things needed to get done, after all.

But Dean worried when he no longer saw the softer side of you. Like your heart had been wrung dry.

He inevitably had to go back to work, but in between the demanding hours of his schedule, he tried to get you to slow down. He saw the warning signs of you running yourself into the ground. He just didn’t know how to help you land.

So Dean picked up slack where he saw it, often without you asking him to. He began fixing the house, one section at a time. He enlisted Benny’s help, since he actually had a small construction business. Dean even paid for the materials himself without you knowing.

And one sunny afternoon, he took a break from repaving part of the cracked and uneven driveway to grab a beer inside. You were sitting at the kitchen table with stacks of papers all around you, your cellphone on speaker as some kind of elevator music continued to ring on a loop.

“Can you believe I’ve been on hold with the funeral director for 20 minutes?” you told him in irritation. But you didn’t truly take sight of him until he came back from the kitchen.

He wore a familiar ensemble of jeans and black undershirt with a plaid shirt, rolled up to his elbows. He was covered in a fine layer of sweat, and his hands were dusty and stained from his work on the driveway. Dean looked tired, and that made you feel guilty.

Meanwhile, he frowned and popped open a beer. “You want one of these? Looks like you could use one.”

You shook your head. With a sigh, you hung up the phone. You’d try calling again later. Instead, you focused on the next item of your checklist for today.

“Food. Because we’re gonna need to eat after the service,” you inclined your head. “Okay, still need to come up with a list of caterers, because I don’t think I can cook for that many people.”

Dean nodded at that. “Let me talk to Ellen. She’ll give you a good price, and her food is good.”

You looked up from your notepad and considered him thoughtfully. You wouldn’t have thought to cater from a bar, but he was right. Ellen had great food at the Roadhouse.

“Okay, I’ll call her,” you said.

“No, I’ll call her,” Dean insisted. He set down the beer on the table and leaned his palms flat on its surface. “Sweetheart, I told you I’d help you with all this. You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

“Dean, you’ve done enough,” you replied. Your brows drew together stubbornly. “You’re paving my driveway right now, for God’s sake! This is my responsibility, not yours.”

Dean frowned, making you sigh. You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms.

“Look, we’ve only been dating for three months,” you said. And in your mind, a good chunk of that time had been spent in the worst hell of your life. “This right here? It’s a lot. I’m not expecting you to deal with all this…”

You bit your lip, and your gaze fell away from his as your insecurities took hold. The thoughts that had been plaguing you every night since this all began, on the night of the car accident.

“And…if you’d rather take a break from us for a while, I’d understand,” you said.

Your voice was more collected than you felt. But that didn’t make it any easier when Dean stared back at you, mostly incredulous. You even thought you saw a thread of hurt there, and it made your heartache worsen.

Dean came around to your side of the table. He dragged a chair back and sunk into it, facing you directly.

“You think that’s the kind of guy I am?” he asked.

You immediately shook your head. You weren’t trying to upset him, or imply that he wasn’t reliable, or trustworthy, or whatever was running through his head. You were just trying to be realistic.

You’re so pragmatic it hurts, as Andréa had often told you.

“Dean, it’s not that…” you began, a bit helplessly. “I just—”

“Just, nothin’.” His chair scraped toward you as he reached out for your hand. He made sure you looked him in the eyes when he said this next part.

“I’m not leaving you with this.”

Your gaze met his, though you desperately tried to keep your heart from rising into your throat.

“I’m not leaving you,” Dean said. His tone, his eyes, his hold on your hand was firm.

For a moment, you stared at him, unblinking, even as tears swam in your eyes.

He’s not leaving you.

Not like everyone else in your life.

You were grateful. Too grateful, even, for words.

When you finally broke down into tears, Dean realized what an idiot he’d been. Your wall of stoicism had been just that—a flimsy wall. Now it was shattered, and so were you.

It scared him just how much, as he gathered you onto his lap and into his arms. You didn’t seem to care that he was dirty and covered with sweat. You clung to him strong, and he held you back just as tightly.

“No matter what I did, it wasn’t enough,” you confessed. “You save people all the time. I couldn’t save anyone in my life.”

Dean frowned. He cupped the back of your head, and he felt your tears sliding down his neck. His voice was thick with emotion when he was able to reply.

“Oh, baby. It’s not your fault.”

“I can’t…I can’t do anything. Anything that matters.” Your voice was a broken whisper. It damn near broke his heart.

“Now you know that’s not true,” he said. “I’m not gonna let you lie to yourself like that.”

You trembled and heaved with sobs, and he continued to hold you.

Just be there, Sam had told him, when Dean had called him from the hospital. Sam reminded him again last week, when George finally passed.

Is that all I’m supposed to do? Dean thought. His brows furrowed, but he tried to hide his frustration.

He was used to people depending on him. He led a team. Before then, he’d looked out for Sam all his life. Dean had never had to help someone get through this kind of grief though. He just wanted to help you, in whatever way he could.

Because he was worrying, just like you. That whatever he did, it wouldn’t be enough.

But he couldn’t leave you.

I can’t, and I won’t, he thought. So he took a breath, and he said the first true thing that came to mind.

“You’re the strongest woman I know, you know that?” Dean said. He spoke low and steady, but with the conviction he felt. “And that’s a tall order, considering some of the badass ladies I’ve got in my life.”

A smile tugged at his lips when he considered people like Ellen and Jo, Jody and Donna. He might’ve lost his mom, but he and Sam hadn’t lacked when it came to influential women in their lives.

“But I saw it the day we met. I see it every time we’re together,” he continued. “You work hard as hell. You take care of everyone around you…”

You were still quiet, trying to stifle your crying.

Dean let out a breath. “Man, if you only knew how much you’ve been helping me. Keeping my damn feet on the ground with this whole…arsonist mess my dad’s been investigating. Digging up the past, my mom, the whole damn thing.”

With a sniffle, you uncurled from him, just enough to reveal your face. Your grip on his shirt loosened, your palm flattening on his chest. He held your hand there and turned his lips to your forehead. He sensed that you were calming down. That you were listening.

“That matters to me,” he told you.

You nodded and tightened your hand on his. “Me too.”

Your voice was still shaky, but it sounded a little stronger.

“See? You might as well face it.” Dean grinned. “You’re a badass chick with a big heart.”

You snorted in response. Your lips even twitched at a smile. He spied it when he looked down at you. And you rested easier against him as your tears subsided.

“Thank you,” you whispered. He dried your cheek with a brush of his hand.

“For what?” he asked.

“For staying.”

AN: So first off, I'm sorry for the gritty "reality" of this one. It's just where the story took me, though it serves a purpose narratively and for both the reader and Dean's character development.

But also, I think this has just been on my mind, since both my grandmother and great uncle (brother and sister) died within a year of one another due to different forms of cancer. My great uncle passed in May of this year, and my grandmother two years this past October.

Again, I'm sorry if this one was too heavy, but art does imitate life and this was probably my brain trying to express those emotions I couldn't fully make sense of at the time. George will be missed, but will still be felt in the rest of this story, as I'm sure any of you who've lost close family members will understand. 💙

Next Time:

The identity of Azazel will finally be revealed in Part 12. But first...

You nodded. “By the way, it was nice of Sam and Eileen to come. And Meg and Cas.”

Dean smiled.

“They can be your people too,” he said. “If you want ‘em to be.”

You couldn’t help it. Your tears brewed and bubbled over. And you moved slowly across the couch to twine your arms around his neck. Dean’s lips tugged at a smile, and he welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

Both of you were still wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing all day; you in your black dress and Dean in his slacks and white buttoned-down shirt, though by now without the jacket, and the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You were infinitely exhausted. But one thing had become clear to you over the past few weeks.

“Thank you. Thank you for today, and for every day since we met,” you said shakily.

Keep Reading: PART 12

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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life-is-more-than-just-a-game · 2 days ago

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Can you make a jealous chishiya? Where chishiya tells the reader to thet information about arisu but the reader and arisu gets along prety well and chishiya gets jealous? Thank you.

♠️ Chishiya being jealous about you and Arisu getting along pretty well ♠️

A/N: Hey, sorry for letting you wait so long. Maybe you have already forget that you wrote me this request but I like the idea behind it, so I decided to make this my "comeback". 👀

I'm actually not sure if I understood it the correct way, but I definitely understood you want a Chishiya who is jealous about the fact Arisu and you are get along splendidly. 😋

Hopefully it reaches you and I also hope you will enjoy reading this. ♥️

Characters: Chishiya

POV: gn!reader

Warnings: Not given.

C h i s h i y a

I don't see him being a jealous person actually.

Unless you give him a reason to ...

Chishiya isn't even a person who falls in love easily.

But when he is falling for someone, he falls pretty hard.

So, you have to deal with his feelings and his behavior when he sees you together with Arisu, chatting and laughing together as if there would be no tomorrow.

Okay, to be fair, nobody knows if there would be a "Tomorrow" ... but that's something different!

Arisu may be a great help to him when it comes to collecting all the cards, but sometimes Chishiya thinks Arisu is his downfall.

Especially when it comes to you.

Yeah, but don't think he will talk about it- he is more concerned with hiding his feelings from you than actually speaking about them.

Even if you already have realized something isn't okay with him, he wouldn't admit it.

"I'm used to it that you are not talking much when there is nothing important to discuss about." "I can hear your "but" even though you didn't said it yet." "Then guess what I wanted to say next." "I don't have any problems, I feel fine, no worries."

Nobody said it would be easy with him. He can be as cold as he looks and it's hard seeing through him, even for you.

Still, he can be a calm and cool person as much as he wants- but he's just a human being. You can endure a lot, but at some point everyone reaches their limits.

You and Arisu are talking a lot? Fine.

Arisu makes a joke you find funny, so he watches both of you laughing and having fun with each other? Alright, you aren't his trophy, everyone can have other friends next to his own partner.

But seeing both of you hugging after a game ...

Because you saw someone die in front of your eyes and you are now overwhelmed by many different emotions ...

Well, enough is enough.

"Step aside, Arisu, that's not your part, alright?"

He was waiting for you the entire time you were in the building, so it's not hard for him to find you both outside being ... needy.

"In the future, you'd better keep your hands to yourself." "Excuse me what was that?" "You already understand."

While Chishiya switches positions with Arisu and holds you captive in his arms, he just gives the dark-haired man a warning look.

… Even if unintentionally.

… And unconsciously.

"Well ... I better go then and ... leave both of you alone ... for now." Arisu lets off of you, leaving you to the person who means the most to you. "You better do."

Trying to catch your breath and calm down, you look up to Chishiya and Arisu alternately, feeling the tension between them.

Still, you can't help but start giggling a little.

Arisu und Chishiya both start looking at you now, irritated and confused.

"W-Well, wait ... just to make it clear- is there someone ... really ... jealousy?" "Yes, he is." "No, I'm not", he says calmly. "Okay, then ... let me hug Arisu again ... s-shouldn't be a problem when everything is okay. Right?"

Silence.

You smiling up to Chishiya, who is now biting his tongue and pressing his lips together, not even thinking about letting off of you.

Arisu watching in amusement.

"I'm ... just not fine seeing another one be there for you while I can be there for you. It's my job to cheer you up- even though I'm not the best in it, but I'm trying very hard." "You ARE jealousy, Chi!" "Oi, stop saying this, will you ... ?"

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pinkmirth · 2 days ago

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thinking about s/o who likes to dress up their vampire bf (yes i'm talking about adrian) and they always make sure that he likes the outfit too. he's just so pretty i can't 🥺

𝜗𝜚 ࣪ ˖ 𓈒 “DOTE” FT. ADRIÁN ‘ALUCARD’ ȚEPEȘ! ⸻ ( 2k+ ) words of ⨾ fluff + suggestive/nsfw, alucard x fem!reader ( black-coded ), canon-divergent, set in the set in the 15th century (1400s), established relationship, lowercase intended, explicit language, minors shoo!

my love letter! ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ oh my goodness luna, i adore this!!! doting on adrian and clothing him sounds like a dream! it’s moving enough for me to want to put it into words . . . i ended up writing this out to be a teensy bit sentimental, if that’s okay! i feel like he’d be hesitant to receive affection but eventually ends up reveling in it because it’s just what he needed! adrian truly deserves some loveee, and i’m here to give it to him >.< please enjoy, and thank you so much for reading! ❤︎

there’s something you and your lover like to call the ‘ echoes, ’ simply put, for any noise that bounces off the walls resounds throughout the entire castle. it’s a reliable system, and adrian’s able to use it to call your attention from anywhere within it.

“darling,” there goes his soothingly silken voice, ringing out all the way from the east wing. at times, you’re amused at how it can reach you from this far. “would you come over and give this a look, please?”

at his plea, you’ll be there. so you settle down the leatherback-book you’d been reading, slinking the pad of your finger beneath a page to fold it by the crisp outer corner.

“coming!”

you’re sure he feels you nearing, courtesy of your shallow-heeled footsteps thudding upon the wine-red shag of his home’s romanian rugs. he acknowledges your presence by swinging open the door to the primary bedroom.

you didn’t think you’d have to tiptoe around mountain-sized heaps of clothing upon entering adrian’s chamber— his closet’s practically ravaged. although, living with a dhampir was never known to be an experience short of surprises.

in the midst of all the madness is where he stands, still adorned in his cream nightgown. he’s got a garment clutched in one hand and a pullover tunic in the other. the subtle veins running along his slender hands makes his grip look exasperated. alucard appears to be having one of those days— where nothing feels just right.

“what’s all this, dear? thought you’d have been dressed by now,” you call out, making your way around a stockpile of trousers to approach him. gently, your delicate hands come to settle upon the broad expanse of his clothed chest. just as he figured it would, your touch immediately soothes him.

the man sighs before he speaks. “i apologize,” adrian peers down at you from where he stands, dropping both items to rest his hands on either side of your hips, “i’ll make sure to clean up afterwards.”

“no worries,” you hum, offering him a warm, sweet smile. when he tends to grow reckless, you know what he needs most is a dash of affection. “you wanted me to take a look at something, yes?”

“i did,” he mumbles, sunny eyes flitting over to his plundered closet, “though now i’m seriously reconsidering every single piece that i own.”

you don’t make a point to say it, but you know it isn’t about the blouses or the pants or any of those things. it’s his mind that tends to run rampant on all that’s been and all he’s lost. at tines, it manifests into agitation, a period of overstimulation where one thing makes him shirk and another gets him withdrawn. despite it all, he’s consoled that you’re here to reel him back in and distract him from himself in that dreamy little way that you do.

“show me the one you were last contemplating on, adrian.” you do it with such ease, pulling him out of his own head and bringing him back into the moment. for a good second, he thinks of just how lucky one man could possibly be.

“go on,” you pat his chest, and his lips flit up into a subtle grin. now more content, adrian scours for it and eventually plucks it off an embroidered chair situated in the corner; only God knows how it got there.

pinched between his index and thumbs, alucard holds up the top, exaggerated sleeves and all, presenting it to you; a simple chestnut colored option that shares the same wood-like hue as the bedpost.

“my twelfth option of the day,” he snidely notes. his sarcasm pries giggle from you. “what do you think, love?”

“it’s quite pretty,” you tilt your head, inspecting the piece with sparkly, concentrated eyes. he admires the way a wispy strand of hair falls along to drape against your face. just precious, he believes.

“it’s a little puffy at the sleeves, though.”

“i knew it,” adrian attests, “this is too . . . flouncy.”

“oh, forget what i said! it’s the perfect amount of flouce.”

“no no, it’s far too much. it’s practically screaming at me.” to that, you chuckle a bit. he can be ever so keen to such minute details.

theatrically, adrian mounts the nearby bed and flops atop the tousled sheets, an exhale leaving the depths of his chest upon impact. “i suppose this is just an ‘only-underwear’ sort of day.” you nearly add that he might as well free himself as a whole and go naked, but the poor man would flush so badly that you choose to refrain.

“you know, adrian,” you scan over his collection, eyeing the finest of silks, puffed shirts and ruffles. his wardrobe practically looks fitting for that of wallachian royalty. “i could make it easy, choose an outfit for you.”

its sudden, how he sits upright and turns to you. his eyes blink just a bit wider, a little slower. alucard’s mouth strikingly quirks upwards in a way that makes you believe he hadn’t been comfortable with the idea— almost as though you’d been meaning to treat him like a child.

“you’d . . . dress me up?”

you retract in the slightest, “only if you’d like. it isn’t a must—”

“please,” he ultimately responds, tone soft and low, “by all means.” it had just been the thought of the sheer intimacy that dazed him. you selecting what would fit him best through your eyes, pulling himself free of his clothes, revealed unto you as you’re dolling him up . . . it all sounds so touching and right now, he wants nothing more.

he can feel palpable relief roll off of you in waves as you beam, “sounds perfect, then.” he calms himself and fixes his countenance, gracing you with a sincere smile. rosy pigment scatters itself upon his face. you catch onto that hopeful glimmer in his eye, one that shows he’s pleased though you can’t quite place it. he’s too softened to say that gratitude has overcome him.

your back is facing him as you rummage around and take your pick, “undress while i put something together, alright?”

“bold request,” adrian characteristically quips. you merely laugh, “you should be bare once i turn around, you hear?”

he hums in acknowledgment, although he opts for tidying up the room first. you can’t see him with your back turned, yet you know he made use of his vampirian speed to grab and fold all his clothes that’d been thrown-askew, including the night attire he’d already been wearing. it amazes you that it only took him a solid eight seconds to complete it all.

“i’m sure that’s convenient,” you muse, turning his way with your selections in hand. alucard’s bare now, adorned in nothing other than his undergarments. a plain and skimpy pair of beige-white breeches shouldn’t excite you so— but god, they hang so low on his hips it’s like they’re barely even there. and how could you possibly ignore the way the cloth clings to his thighs? his arms look strong and coiled like wire, and the chiseled lining of his lean torso is embellished by the fleshy-pink scar that runs past his abdomen all the way up the center of his firm chest.

adrian can only hold your gaze for so long before realizing that you’re drinking him in. consciously, he pivots his head the other way as though to escape it, allowing his lengthy hair to drape down and cover the flushing of his fair cheeks.

you inch up to him, setting the clothes on his bedside. you find his larger hand to interlace with your own, and he only grows redder. there’s an indescribable pride that comes with being capable of riling him up.

“oh, don’t tell me you’re shy,” your hum is sugary like marmalade, “i’ve seen you before . . . you’re beautiful.”

“oh my god,” he whispers, pressing a palm to his heated face. sometimes adrian finds you to be too sweet. he isn’t sure how you haven’t yet succeeded at killing him with all your flattery. he bashfully smiles, cheeks warm as you stand high on your toes to peck them. “you and that mouth of yours.”

“i’ll leave you alone before you overheat,” you tease, halting your affections to return to the task at hand. “you love to toy with me,” he breathes out, and your giggle confirms it. you then display your choices; fitted pants of black leather paired with a warm-tan blouse, one that brings out the shine of his sharp eyes and adds a flush of vitality to his fair skin. interestingly enough, it resembles the color of his golden hair. you’d gone with something similar to his typical style so that he’d feel comfortable wearing it; though you know he’s been rather picky today.

“is it okay?” the way you await his approval makes his heart throb right within his chest. if only you knew that you handpicking anything for him was enough to make him fall in absolute love with it. it had never really been the outfit— he’s sure he just needed you all along.

“more than okay.” he smiles up at you, lips soft and pale-pink. you wonder if you’d end up altering the mood if you leaned down to kiss him. “well chosen, dear.”

“i know just what you like, don’t i?” you sound quite delighted, and it warms him up inside. “but of course. it’s my closet, after all.” the both of you share a knowing laugh that makes you feel so wholesome, so bound. you’ll be sure to commit the feeling to memory.

he then rises to his feet, standing a solid foot above you as he works his way into the bottoms you chose. a pout overtakes you, pretty lips pursed as you whine, “i could’ve done that!”

“you’ll get to fix the blouse. sounds fair, yes?” adrian knows if you were to have worn his pants for him, the hard-on he’d sport would’ve been more than embarrassing. you’ve seen each other vulnerable a good amount of times, and made love even more than what could be counted, but during a moment like this would only sully the mood, he’s sure.

with a hum, you give in. “fine,” your fingers trace against the threading of his shirt, “sit back down for me. you’re too tall for me to dress you from here,” alucard’s always found the contrast in size between the both of you to be endearing, especially whenever you go on to mention it. you’re surprised he decides to choose obedience instead of poking fun. he takes his place upon the bed and makes room for you to settle atop his lap. it’s instinctive, how quickly his hands reach for your waist. he rubs them along the patterning of your corset.

“arms out,” you’re a little less content when his touch leaves you, though you adore how well he listens. you ease the top over his head, onto his arms and finally onto the rest of his frame, tucking away the mussed locks of wavy blonde hair that fall array.

“i’ll brush it out for you later, adri,” you murmur, smoothing down the frizz before bringing your hands to cradle his cheeks. his face looks simply ethereal this close; flawlessly structured, handsome yet elegant. once again, his hands find their rightful place upon your sides. you watch him melt in your very hold when you coo, “my pretty boy.”

he whimpers a lowly call of your name. “thank you . . for all of it.” you know these sort of pocketed moments mean so much to him. his gentle pitch wavers with the subtlest hint of desire; you’d know the sound of it anywhere. still soft-spoken, though the slightest bit deeper. raspier, even. he only reserves such a tone for you.

your response is hushed, just about breathless, “always, adrian.” the pair of you are so close that the straightened tip of his nose grazes against your own. when the tension grows too thick and you can no longer escape his lips reeling you in like magnets, you finally lean into him and let your mouths slot, warmth blooming between you. his lithe fingers roam and you suckle at his bottom lip, prying a soft groan out of him.

alucard kisses you with longing, the span of his fangs subtly clashing against the pearly white of your teeth as he works at prodding his tongue inside, nipping at your lips and tasting of you. he frees out soft, little ‘ i love you’ amongst all the licking and sucking.

you both wind up toppling down onto the bed, with his back to the mattress and your squished breasts to his heart. making out with a man such as adrian always gets so heavy; you’re panting into each other's mouths, swallowing up the other one’s sounds, and you just can’t seem to help but slowly roll your hips into the stiffness of his crotch. a handful of minutes with him already has you entirely soiled.

“this is becoming something else,” alucard breaks away with a huff, fighting himself not to rip off the clothes you just adorned him in.

but fuck, you aren’t helping. “allow it, then . . .” is your solution, bringing the plush surface of your lips to suckle along his jaw, against the column of his throat, right down his neck . . . no point in refraining now. you eased him of his worries, and he only wants nothing more than to repay you.

“quite a shame, dear.” it truly is— especially considering that you put together such a stylish assortment for him. “now everything must be undone.”

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atlasscrumpit · 2 days ago

Text

Hannibal x Reader

(you're the only one who knows who the copy cat killer is)

You sat in a cold basement, but you didn't mind it. You kind of enjoyed the cold, even if you were locked in a serial killers basement.

The door opened and you looked up to see Hannibal entering with some food.

"I've prepared a lovely meal for you, my dear. You can eat the entire plate if you cooperate and tell me what I need to know." He said as you glared up at him.

"You're wasting your time, I don't know who the copy cat killer is." You said with a simple shrug. Hannibal's face remained the same as he set the plate and knelt in front of you.

"I wonder why you're protecting them. Maybe they're someone close to you?" He said reaching forward to brush a hand through your hair.

"I did my research. You've had a hard life, haven't you, my dear? Hasn't been very easy for you and your brother." He said as you narrowed your eyes.

"You don't know anything about me or my family." You replied. Hannibal cracked a smile.

"This person is killing innocent people, even children and tarnishing the Chesapeake Ripper. Are you okay to sit back while this person kills and ruins lives? I didn't take you for a monster, Y/N." He taunted as you glared at him.

"Says the serial killer." You growled making him chuckle softly.

Hannibal slowly leant in closer and held your face in his hand.

"You've been abused, haven't you?" He asked as your eyes widened.

"No... No, I haven't." You growled making him smile, his thumb rubbing against your cheek.

"My dear girl. You underestimate my ability to read you. I can tell you've been abused most of your life, so vulnerable and fragile. You don't need to worry, my fear. I'm not going to hurt you like they do. But, it makes me wonder if the person you're protecting is the one who hurts you." He said in a low voice as you looked into his eyes, trying to keep up your facade.

He smiled and tucked your hair behind your ear.

"You haven't had affection, have you? No one to keep you safe. You don't have anyone but your brother...which made me come to the conclusion that he's the one you're protecting." He said as you looked into his eyes, your jaw clenching.

He suddenly gripped your hair tightly, tilting your head back.

He looked at the bruising on your neck.

"So, are you protecting him because you love him or because you're scared of him?" He asked letting your hair go as you felt tears in your eyes.

"I told you...I don't know." You growled as he sighed. He stood up and took the food.

"Perhaps you'll be more compliant when you haven't eaten." He said as you watched him leave, bowing your head and crying softly.

Hannibal returned the morning of the next day, knowing you would be thirsty and hungry.

He entered the basement and saw you laying on the ground.

"You were right..." You whispered as he tilted his head.

"I'm right about a lot of things, my dear. Which one are you referring to?" He asked as you looked up at him with tired eyes.

"The killer is my brother." You whispered as he placed the food down once more.

He knelt and began to release your restraints.

"Good girl. You don't have to worry about anything else now." He said before gently picking your body up in his arms.

"Are you going to kill me?" You asked as he carried you out of the basement.

"I have to admit I've grown quite attached to having you around. No, I won't be killing you, but you will be remaining under my supervision." He said as you rested your head against his chest.

He brought you up to one of the guest room and laid you down.

You hadn't eaten for three days and your body was feeling it. You yelped when you felt a sharp sting in your arm.

"Shh, my dear. This is going to help you." He said before helping you to sit up.

"Stay put, my dear. I'll get you some food." He said, even though he knew you couldn't walk by yourself.

After a few minutes he returned with a bowl of thick looking soup.

"This will be enough for the moment until your body is stronger." He said before helping you sit up and lean against him.

He brought the soup up to your lips and began to feed you, you didn't care to protest, you were too hungry.

Once you finished the bowl of soup you leant against Hannibal, he enjoyed the warmth of your body against his. He gently placed his hand on your hip and pushed you to relax against him even more.

"Good girl. You've done very well, my dear. Now, you just need to rest and let me nurse you back to health." He whispered taking in your scent and sighing.

He couldn't let you go now.

#Hannibal #hannibal lecter #Hannibal Lecter x Reader #Hannibal x Reader

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nomi-c · 3 days ago

Text

Pottery ventures

Professions (1/8) {San}

{San x Reader}

Wordcount: 7K

Genre: Strangers to Lovers, Smut, Pet names (sweetheart), cursing (fuck), Dominant San , Oral Female receiving, Protected intercourse, Fingering

A/n: as always with my ff's, this ff isn't meant to represent the artist in any way or form!

-Minors don't read-

With a last glance on your Phone, you cursed your best friend for cancelling on your monthly planned meet up in the very last second.

Are you sure you can't make it? You texted her, even though you already knew the answer. She spontaneously needs to stay longer at work because of some emergency at the ER.

If you would have known sooner you would've called the workshop owner and cancelled the appointment, but you were already in front of the little studio and the appointment would start in around 10 minutes.

The day was really calm and no one expected a emergency this size.... I'm sure you'll have fun at the workshop, we can still book another appointment at that shop for maybe next week?

You sighed and watched your breath form into tiny clouds as you took a sip of your coffee and pulled the scarf tighter around your neck and partly covered your nose and mouth from the biting snowy wind that caused you to shiver heavily.

I will ask him for another appointment after today, no worries. Stay strong! Love you xxx

Without waiting for another reply since you knew she was busy treating emergency patients, you took a deep breath to calm your nerves and gripped the door handle.

Staying a second longer outside wasn't ideal, seeing as in this part of the town not many people stayed outside after it got dark. It didn't matter that it was only 7pm on a Thursday, once it was dark people stayed at home. It wasn't like the area was criminally populated, it was more that the way the block was built gave off strange vibes and an eerie feeling once the sun set. Maybe it also had to do with the past of this exact block that gave you shivers whenever you thought about the mall tragedy years back.

They were in the middle of renovating the block and erasing the ugly past with new parks and buildings and incredible cafés but nonetheless people didn't forget things that easily and you were sure it would take a long while till people would be walking here carefree again.

The little Pottery studio you would visit today however had a owner who only moved here 6 months ago and probably didn’t know the history of this area before he opened the newly build studio here. When you and your best friend searched for a cool new hobby, you found his website and his rating was 5 stars through the bench.

You decided to give him a shot since the comments were good and some of the pieces you saw on his website were drop dead gorgeous. It wasnt the first workshop you both visited, seeing as you made it your adventure to try new workshops and courses every few meet ups. From photography to drawing, and from parkour lasertag. Every thing so far was awesome and a few things got stuck with you. Two of those things being Taekwondo and Art.

You smiled at the many memories that rotated in your inner eye. With a last look around you, you cautiously pushed the door open and a little bell above you ringed quietly. You instantly reveled in the warmth of the studio as you stepped in fully, you never were the biggest fan of winter and today was a particularly cold day.

Your eyes roamed over the beautifully black and white designed lobby with incredibly expensive looking modern art pieces and others that seemed like landscapes and some others like momentous of people you didn't recognize.

Walking a bit closer to it, you noted that every Individual piece was lit on by a over head lamp that gave each one its own stage and moment to shine and next to each painting you saw a little silver plate that described the painting and mentioned it's artist.

All of them were drawn by the same person, Park Seonghwa. The name didn't sound familiar to you, but whoever he is, he is a incredible painter.

You moved a bit more into the lobby and your gaze fell behind the counter, where you spotted a big lit up showcase with some of the crafted pieces you saw on the website, and with it you again saw little metal signs with the names of the people who crafted them.

You had to give it to the owner, he had a love for crediting every person he had pieces of and everyone who created art in his studio. You decided then and there that you already liked the guy.

To your left, you saw a small sitting corner which consisted of two white couches on opposite sites of one another, a black fluffy carpet and a rectangular glass table with art and crafting magazines stacked on one side of it.

On the wall next to the sitting area, you saw a makeshift bistro station with a fancy looking Barista coffee machine.

Without doubt the owner didn't only have taste in aesthetic but also in what he consumes, and what he offers his guests you thought to yourself as you saw the variety of pastries next to the coffee machine.

With a last longing look towards the sweet and probably incredibly delicious pastries, you turn back towards the front of the store.

Your eyes travel back towards the counter ahead of you, it is all black and neatly organised from what you could see behind the counter, once you reached the front of it.

Your eyes focused on the jumping screensaver on the computer on the right, that was partly turned into your direction.

You started hearing louder growing steps and focused your attention on the stack of business cards that laid out next to the blooming Poinsettia.

Only when he made his stance behind the counter, you looked up from the business card and your eyes locked with his.

Your breath however got lost along the way, he was around one head taller than you, had dark brown almost black hair, deep brown eyes and a set of adorable dimples that demanded your full attention right instantly.

He seemed to work out a lot, seeing as his frame was huge compared to you, and by huge you were talking about the fact that you could disappear behind his back fully. Looking a bit further down, the black tight shirt he wore revealed to you that his waist seemed pretty petit for his body.

You caught yourself staring at the man before you, so you quickly cleared your throat. Your cheeks burned from embarrassment and you averted your eyes on your gloved hands.

You set the cup of coffee on the counter quickly and started removing your scarf and glove, feeling unbearably warm all of a sudden. "Hello, I am the 7pm appointment. My best friend couldn't make it due to a emergency at work, so it will be just me today. I hope that's still okay with you?" You asked with a slightly shaky voice.

The guy who until now watched you with a slight smile on his lips, leaned down to his computer and typed something on his keyboard. His eyes roamed over the screen and a few seconds later he gave you a quick glance. "It's alright, I hope the emergency isn't too bad. Do you want to schedule a new appointment on top? I won't charge it extra, seeing as you still came here today instead of cancelling last minute."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "I would love that, that is really kind of you Mr. Choi. Would next week at the same time work for you?" You asked with a smile on your lips as you removed your beanie and put it into your bag with the scarf and gloves.

He clicked on his computer a few times, his eyes glued to the screen. "It works perfectly for me, I'll set the appointment. And please call me San, we seem to be around the same age."

You nodded and gave him a smile. "Thank you, San. I'm Y/n, it's nice to meet you." You said as your cautiously extended your hand towards him with a unsure smile on your lips.

Handshakes were mostly out of fashion, especially in winter and even more after the pandemic but you would feel rude to not greet another person that way. Especially someone as kind as him.

San eyed your hand for a second before his dimples reappeared and he laid his hand on yours for a firm handshake. You couldn't help but notice the two rings that adorned his fingers, one golden on his index finger, and a silver infinity looped ring on his middle finger. Odd combination you thought to yourself but didn't dare ask about it.

With anyone else you would say it's a fashion crime to mix gold and silver, but you felt like they had a special meaning and in all honesty you thought that little inconsistency fit with him.

If San noticed he didn't mention it, when he waved his hand towards the pasties to your left. "Can I offer you anything before we get started? A New coffee or maybe some Pastries?" He asked you with a kind smile and warm gaze.

You quickly shook your head. "No, thank you. I still have my coffee. But Thank you very much for the offer."

He nodded and gestured to the right where a big set of double milk glass doors was located. "Shall we?" He asked you with a smirk.

You once again felt your cheeks heat up, something about him made you jumpy but not in the creeped out way. No, he made you jumpy in a manner of your crush replied to your Text message where you ask him to date you kind of way.

You tried to calm your racing heart with a deep breath and focused on the flowers in the corner next to the double door, right beside these broad shoulders attractive shoulders of-

No. Don't go there- you curse yourself out as you follow San through the Glass doors avoiding his body with your hungry eyes as if your life depends on it.

You practically drool over your teacher for your pottery workshop right now, but could anyone actually blame you? San's proportions and looks should've been captured on old paintings cause he had the perfect proportions in any kind of way and form. You were sure artists would fight over him to be their muse, look wise as much as body wise.

You could blame your reaction on the fact that you didn't have a boyfriend or a date in years and your... well, last time feeling like this over a guy was even longer ago.

Feeling San's eyes on you, you slowly lifted your gaze from his shoulders to his eyes and felt exposed by the raw intensity of his stare.

With a smirk on his lips, he shook his head and turned left towards a little table that had a clay sack on top. He grabbed two blocks and placed them one after another on two of the workstations. "You can pick any seat you want."

You woke up from your trance and unholy thoughts about broad backs and muscular arms and set your bag next to the door on the black armchair before you picked the right seat and sat down eying the clay block with interest.

San grabbed two bowls from the side of the sink on the wall to your right and filled them both with water, before he set them next to your clay blocks on the work stations next to the rotation disk.

"Do you have knowledge in pottery?" He asked with his back on you, as he went towards his desk where a bunch of pottery goods sat which he carefully grabbed to place them in yet another showcase to fully dry unharmed.

You shook your head, even though you knew he couldn't see it right now. "I don't know anything about it, me and my best friend wanted to try it and make cute mugs for our reading weekends together."

He nodded, processing your words for a second or two before he turned to his left where a couple of aprons hung on the wall next to the burning oven.

You followed his movements as he picked 2 aprons one smaller and one bigger black one which you assumed was his personal one.

When he turned back around to make his way back to you he had a soft reassuring smile on his lips. "Pottery isn't as difficult as most think it is, you might take a few tries but you'll get the hang of it quickly."

Once he was seated next to you, he handed you the smaller apron slowly. "Did you already think about what you want to create today?" He asked you with a curious expression on his features. His prominent cheekbones slightly rosy from the warmth of the studio.

You quickly searched your mind for possible things you could create and that were easy enough for a absolute beginner as you laid on your apron, but you only came up with a total basic idea. "How about a vase?" You asked as you remembered the beautiful vase you knocked off the dinner table the other day. It was the only vase you had since the many years you lived all alone.

San tilted his head to the side, his indexfinger with the golden ring tapping on his lip absentmindedly. "It's a good choice, easy but with a good purpose."

You nodded in agreement. San's eyes focused on the clay block in front of him before he shot you a quick glance. "I'm sure you already noticed the clay block in front of you, so what we want to do with it to begin, is to loosen it up. We archive that by kneading the clay like a you would with a fresh dough."

He took the clay in his hands and started kneading it and made sure you copy his moves before he spoke again. "We knead or wedge the clay to remove any possible bubbles inside, to make sure our work will be stable and won't break as easily after or during it's getting burned."

You nodded and quickly made a messy bun, already annoyed by the hairs that kept on blocking your view as you kept on kneading the small clay bock thoroughly.

Minutes ticked by with neither of you saying anything, the only sounds in the atelier were your breathings and the faint melody that flowed out of the ceiling speakers quietly.

Your arms were already getting sore and you felt a small droplet of sweat making it's way down your forehead. "How long are we supposed to knead it exactly?" You asked a little out of breath.

San's quiet laugh made you stop your work and look at him instead. He was still kneading the clay, your eyes focused on the strong muscles on his arms and how they moved under every movement he made.

He formed a small clump with it and set it on the middle of the rotating disk. "The longer, the better. It's tiring at the beginning but try to see it as a workout instead with a nice new pottery good as reward." He told you with a smile on his lips.

You shook out your arms, trying to ease some of the burning tension in your muscles and shaped your clay block almost the same. "Can I ask you something?" You asked San as your eyes darted through the artillier and you saw more framed photographies and art pieces on the walls, you even spotted a fallen angel stone figure in the far corner by the window which you didn't notice while entering the space earlier.

San turned in his twisting chair towards you and leaned his elbow on the workstation as he eyed you curiously. "Sure, ask all you want."

You turned towards him as well, glad to rest your arms a bit more as well as stilling your curiosity at the same time. You gestured towards the walls and the stone figure. "Are you interested in photography and art and stone sculpturing? I couldn't help but notice them right away." You said as you once again eyed everything in the room with adoration.

Seeing as you love art yourself you couldn't help yourself but standing up and inspecting it closer. It was like a invisible line pulled you towards the art he displayed and created. The color combinations and techniques the artist used drew you in, and the different vibes and auras each painting gave off seemed to tell a story you yet had to discover fully.

San who slowly walked up behind you, looked at the painting as well. You didn't see his face but could hear the pride in his voice when he spoke again.

"The paintings and sculptures and even the pictures are all from my best friends."

Your eyes went wide as you turned around and looked up at San's face with a dropped jaw. "These belong in big galleries and museums. They are masterpieces."

You saw a dimple form on his left cheek as he paced the room. You followed him, checking the art pieces with him with full attention. "Seonghwa is an artist, he draws everything that captures his interest, from people to objects, to abstract art. He wants to open a gallery in the future, but until then he asked if he could spotlight some paintings here. I loved the idea, it gives the studio flair and showcases his work at the same time."

When you guys reached another photography of what seemed to be a woman's back hugged by shadows and a industrial styled window front with San Francisco in the back, he stopped again as you took in the big framed photograph. "Wooyooung is a photographer, he always had a incredible eye for aesthetic and when he grabs his camera, you can be sure to see a masterpiece as result. He actually has his own gallery, but he gifted me some pieces as welcome present to my first own studio. He helped me a lot building this place."

Your eyes went even bigger as you continued listening to every word San said. He gestured to the angel stature and his smile got soft. "Yeosang is a Stone sculpturor, but if you ask me he should sculpture himself as well cause with his looks he doesn't stand the figures he creates behind in anything at all. I'm sure Michael Angelo would have taken him as student and muse if he would be alive still. His skills are impeccable, even if what he creates sometimes tends to be melancholic." He said as he grazed his hand softly over the broken wings of the crying angel.

You didn't take your eyes away from the stature, too much in awe about its raw beauty to look back at San. "Everything here is incredibly beautiful and has so much meaning behind it, this is breathtaking." You almost whispered as your finger softly touched the forever rolling tear of the angel.

You walked a bit further and carefully grazed your hand over one perfectly tailored mug, it resembled london as you quickly realized with the big ben in the background and a person that seemed to wait for something.

"What's your favorite style?" You asked him as you wondered if he drew the places on pottery that he visited or knew.

A soft smile appeared on your lips at a old memory of your trip there years back for your year abroad.

San sighed as he eyed the mug you softly cradled in your hand. "I don't think I have found my personal style yet, I'm relatively new with painting detailed pieces. I used to just glaze the pieces over in white. It's timeless and classic."

You nodded in agreement. "Does this one has a story? Looking at your work I would say you're a really talented painter as wellby the way."

San leaned against his desk in thought, thinking your words over in his mind as he looked around the office. "Isn't that what art of any kind is about? A purpose or a story that needs or should to be told? Like for example you chose a vase, is there a story behind it? Cause I could think there is one." He asked as he turned his attention on you with a raised brow and a twitch of his lips.

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "Well, in my defense I really need a vase. Mine broke months back and since then I haven't been able to buy flowers anymore." You quickly blurted out.

San laughed quietly and opened his mouth to say something but you were faster. "Anyways, you don't need to talk about it when it's too personal. What I was trying to say was that your art is incredible. I'm glad I chose your studio to learn pottery." You followed up saying, trying to erase your embarrassment.

San's cheeks got a slight bit colored and you saw a hint of a dimple as he rubbed his neck awkwardly. "Thank you, shall we continue?"

You nodded and strolled back towards your work station, happy that he didn’t further commented on your choice of work for today.

Once you were seated again, he wet his hands and got the round plate of the workstation spinning. You watched him closely and imitated his movements, your eyes glued to his strong hands as he softly worked on the clay and managed to get the clay to part to a hole on the middle.

Surprisingly enough, you managed to do the same on the first try. A happy laugh bubbled up inside you, as you eyed his next movements like a hawke.

"For the next step, you have press from both the inside and the outside against the clay to thin it out while you also pull it slightly upwards to shape it to your liking." He explained as he wet his hands in the bowl a bit more and slowly did what he explained.

He made sure to place his hands and arms in a way that you would be able to see it perfectly from your seat.

When he was done with that part, he turned off the workstation and turned towards you.

You could easily make out the bigger body and slimmer neck of the vase, when the spinning lessened you had to say it already looked damn near perfect.

Your eyes connected with his for a second, and you saw nothing but kindness and patience in his eyes as he waited for you to start.

With a deep breath, you turned on the workstation with the button on the side, and wet your hands in the bowl with warm water.

You felt San move a bit closer, but paid no attention to him as you set your hands both on the inside and outside of the cool clay.

You recalled his instructions from ealier and started carefully molding the clay. At first it was a bit difficult because even after all the kneading, the clay felt a bit dense.

But easily enough you saw it get thinner and wobblier. It started to seem to spin out of control, and San quickly rolled his chair behind you.

His hands smoothed over yours as he pushed away your foot from the pedal to take control over the spinning speed of the table.

His warm hands engulfed yours easily, as he lessened the pressure you put on the vase. You watched it regain its composure almost immediately.

You felt his warm breath tickle the side of your neck as he leaned his head forward, at your back you softly felt his chest against you.

Your heart started racing as you watched him guide your hands over the body of the vase in an attempt to save it and to even out the thickness of it, seeing as it was pretty uneven. "The first attempts are always a bit out of control, that's totally fine and normal. When you feel it getting out of hand, you have to lessen the speed of the rotation disk. Otherwise you risk the clay to smack into your face."

He explained as you felt his thigh muscles contort and bump against your leg when he showed you how the speed would affect the rotation disk.

You felt your cheeks grow hot and you got unbearably warm. Your mind only seemed to care about his close proximity and his incredibly good smelling perfume. Of how his hands felt around yours and the breath of him that tickled your neck with each breath he took.

You watched as the clay induced liquid rushed over and between your hands as he started forming the neckline of the vase together with you. You caught yourself slightly glancing over towards his face that almost rested on your shoulder and noticed a few lose strands hanging close to his eyes, it was a effort to not automatically reach out and swipe them away.

You shook your head slightly to clear your thoughts, and averted your eyes back towards your forming Vase. He adjusted your fingers on the vase slightly and applied a bit of pressure to your grip before he spoke next. "When you use just about the right amount of pressure, it will turn out just how you want it. This is about the thickness it needs to ensure it's stable and won't break while burning." His voice was raspy and close to your which didn't help your current situation at all. You took a small breath as your legs pressed together Involuntarily.

You nodded, not trusting your voice to not betray you more than your body already did. He angled his arms a bit more to be able to guide you better and in the process his back was now flushed against your back and his arms were pressed against yours further which caused tiny goosebumps and a shiver through out your arms and the back of your neck.

You could swear you heard his breath hitch for a second but you wouldn't allow to let your mind travel to the possibility that he was reacting to you the same way as you reacted to him.

You watched as he guided your hands further up the neck to work on the top rim of the vase. He let go of your hands and dipped them into the bowl quickly and set his hands back on yours.

His head turned towards you slightly. "Do you like it like this? Or should we try out another Design?"

The air rushed out of your lungs as he accidentally grazed your ear while speaking, your back pressed against his chest slightly in response.

You quickly opened your eyes in mortification and quickly shot up from your seat, hitting yourself on the workstation hard enough to probably leave a bruise behind as you fumbled your way out from being wedged between San and the workstation.

You dipped your hands in the now tainted water and wiped your hands on the apron, before you removed your the cardigan and walked the few steps towards your bag to place it on top carefully.

You felt San's presence somewhere behind you vividly, which only worsened the throbbing inside of you. "I gotta use the restroom real quick." You all but blurted out as you quickly exited the room.

You had no clue where said toilet was but you needed distance before you would jump him.

"Second door on the right!" He called after you from where he stood as you barged through the door and almost ran into the restroom.

Once the door was locked, you rested your back against the cool wood and slid down to a crouch.

Deep breaths. In and out. Calm down. You can do this.

After collecting your thoughts for a second, you went up to the sink and splashed your face with ice cold water to get a grip.

Your hands gripped the edge of the marble sink tightly as you eyed yourself in the mirror. "Calm down and focus!" You told yourself with strict face before you patted your face dry and unlocked the door.

The temperature in the lobby felt significantly colder which you gladly welcomed as you walked up to the little table in the sitting area and poured yourself a glass of water from the pitcher.

You took a deep gulp to get rid of your dry mouth as you peaked inside the studio again. You didn’t see him immediately, but you spotted his work station empty.

You stepped inside quietly, scanning the room quickly and spotted leaning against his desk in thoughts.

He wasn't turned towards you, instead he seemed to watch the vase, his vase, do it's thing in the fire oven.

You creeped a bit closer towards him, gripping your water in a death grip as your heart was beating a thousand miles an hour. Once you caught up to him and only a few steps separated you, you cleared your throat to announce your presence without startling him.

His head snapped in your direction and he straightened, before you saw him made a step towards you. "I'm sorry." His voice sounded sincere, but his eyes seemed to hold that same barely contained restraining that you were sure would be mirrored on your own eyes as well. "I'm sorry if I acted unprofessionally towards you, I don't know what I was thinking."

He turned away from you and your had to strain your ears to hear his next words. "That's what I should say, right? Even if I don't mean it." He raked his hands through his hair frustratedly.

Your stomach tightened as you registered his words and saw his exquisite back muscles flex with his movement.

You made a step towards him, as you felt your need coursing through your body violently. That much for calming down.

You set the glass of water down on his desk, as he turned back towards you quickly. His gaze was wild and pure of need as he fixated your full lips and then your eyes. "You know what? I'm actually not sorry. Since you walked in, I can't think fucking straight. I should be professional, I know that, but all I can think about since you stepped into my studio are all the different ways I could fuck you senseless inside of this god damn place. I just want to-"

You didn't let him finish as you closed the distance between you in light speed and crashed your lips against his.

He caught you around your waist reflexively as he tensed up for a second, but then his restrain snapped as grabbed you by your neck and janked you flush against his chest.

A small moan left your lips when your hips connected with his and you felt him hard against your stomach.

You felt his tongue graze over your teeth, asking you for entrance and without thinking twice you let him in. Your tongues started a instant battle for dominance, as you moved your hands through his silken hair and tugged slightly.

You could feel him smirk against your lips as he pushed you back until your ass connected with the desk.

His hands wandered down your sides, setting every inch of clothed skin on fire until he reached your thighs, he gave you a little nudge and you jumped enough to up wrap your legs around his waist thightly.

His hips pushed you onto the table hard and another moan left you at the sensation. His mouth started traveling from your lips onto your neck where his tongue drew lazy circles over your sensitive spot. You felt the fabric of his shirt wrinkle under your tightly fisted hands on his chest as you moaned his name.

One of his hands rested flatly on the desk while his other sneaked over your shoulder in a feather light touch and pulled your straps down, fully in contrast to his wicked tongue. "Please." You bagged as you tugging on his shirt.

He sucked sharply on your neck in response, as your head fell back from the sensation. "Please, what sweetheart? Use your words."

Your back arched as he kissed his way further down your neck. He softly pushed down your tanktop until it pooled at your hips as he clasped open your Bra with his other hand. Out of the corner from your eye you saw your Bra flying to a random corner. "P-please touch me." You begged again as your hand went back to his hair and fisted it?

His indexfinger travelled from your bare right shoulder down onto your hard nipple, where he gave you a slight pinch. "That's what I'm doing right now, no?"

Before you could respond his mouth cupped your other boob and his teeth grazed your sensitive skin.

You pulled on his shirt frantically, desperate to feel his skin under your finger tips. As a whine left your lips, the feeling already overwhelming but at the same time not enough. He released your boob with a pop. "So responsive." He smirked and pulled the shirt over his head to give you a perfect view of his incredible physic.

You let your hand wander over his soft and muscular skin. A growl left his lips as he gripped your wrist and yanked you towards him, his lips crashing on yours in a devouring kiss again.

He unbuttoned your jeans in a swift move and linked his thumbs in the fabric of your jeans as he janked town both your pants and underwear down in one move.

His indexfinger with the golden ring travelled up your bare tigh before it disappeared between your legs where he raked a finger through your soaking folds. Your head fell back in bliss. "Gods"

San eyed your expressions like a hawk, as he cupped you and dipped a two fingers inside of you. Your walls tightened against him as he started pumping inside of you. Your hand gripped his biceps forcefully as your hips rocked against his fingers, taking everything you would get.

Endless moans echoed through the studio as he crashed his lips back on yours. He slightly bit your bottom lip as he curled his fingers inside of you which made you scream out his name.

You could feel your release rapidly build inside of you. "Please.... I'm..." You managed to say, but it was all to overwhelming.

San shook his head with a smirk as he removed his fingers from inside of you. "You're finished when I let you. And I'm dying for a taste." He all but purred before he settled between your legs and looked up at you directly.

It took all your left restrained to not come at that sight directly, and he seemed to notice it, because he grabbed your knees and spread you apart further before he placed your legs on his shoulders.

His smile was deadly as he eyed your bareness before him and dived in light speed.

His tongue laid flat against you as he swiped up your center, your head rolled back as a loud moan left your lips.

San's hands flexed around your thighs as he pulled you closer to wards him. He backed up enough to look back at you. "I want you to look at me, sweetheart."

Your eyes found him reflexively as he dived back in and dipped his tongue inside of you. A rumbling moan left his lips as he started devouring you like a starved man.

While your hips ground against his face shamelessly and greedily. You felt your climax build up in light speed as your legs started trembling. He sucked in your bundle of nerves once twice and your hands gripped his fair painfully. "Come." He ordered and thats all it took as you screamed his name and started seeing stars.

Your release washed over you in intense waves as he picked up every drop of you greedily. You were still shaking uncontrollably as he got up and pulled you flush against his bare chest. His lips found yours and you could taste yourself on him as he spinned you around and bend you down on the desk.

You heard him shuffle and open a condom behind you as your head laid on the side, eying the crying angel stature.

His hand trailed up your spine sensually as he wedged his bare leg between yours and spread your legs apart. You felt his chest against your back, and your ass instinctively pushed back against him.

You felt him twitch against your entrance, as his mouth nipped on your ear before he gave you another soft kiss on your neck.

Without another warning he gripped your hair in his hand and janked your head back as he slammed into you fully. A scream left your lips at the feel of him inside you.

San's voice sounded taut as he pounded into you with enough force to make the whole table move. "Fuck, you're tight."

You slammed your ass back against his hips in desperation as he pulled out of you almost fully and slammed back into you. "You're perfect." He groud out betwen his teeth before his lips found your shouder where he gave you a small kiss.

The glass you set on the table ealier, spilled more and more water on the table but you couldn't give less of a fuck as it just like you for the second time in a row edged closer to destruction.

His lips slammed back on yours as he picked up speed, a trail of moans left both your lips as he pounded in you mercilessly. The scandalous sound of smaking skin, moaning and harsh breathing almost overshadowed the scraping of the table as it moved further and further towards the wall opposite of you.

His movements grew slowly erratic, indicating you that he too was close. As his other hand wandered between your legs where his index finger drew lazy circles around your bud.

You screamed his name as you started shaking and saw blinding white light and stars. His other hand drew soothing circles against your back, much in contrast to his harsh thrusts that had his balls slamming against you with force repeatedly and said. "Let go."

Your back arched and your ass slammed back against him with force as your hands gripped the edge of the desk so hard it was starting to hurt as another scream raked through your body and shattered you into sweet oblivion.

San cursed under his breath as you felt him twitch hard inside your spasming walls. He thrust in you a few more more times, before he too came apart inside of you with a curse of your name on his lips as he rode out both your highs.

Once your both caught your breath a bit he pulled out of you slowly but continued drawing soothing circles on your back. "You know, I've been dreaming of seeing you again from the moment I saw you that day by the namsan tower years back."

Your eyes snapped open in shock, that day you saw him, you realized now. Across the crowd you noticed him and his friends and already back then your breath caught in your lungs.

You've been staring at one another for few seconds when he made a step towards you, waving some of of the peddles from his view.

You were just about to make a step towards them too before your best friend pulled you with her towards the boarding bus.

It followed you for a while on vacation, but you eventually forgot about him. Hell, you didn't even trust yourself that you didn't make the whole thing up back then seeing as your best friend didn't see them at all and said you're crazy.

His Hand massaged the back of your neck under your hair softly. "You asked about the mug earlier, I made it as first art piece once I arrived back home. I was searching for you everywhere that day after you left with your friend, but I couldn't find you."

You set back up on the table as he went up to the sink to wet up a clean cloth, you didn't notice it before but you saw now that he was wearing his underwear again and a loose white shirt.

You pulled up your tanktop again but were still in shock about his recent words. "It's been you? I wasn't sure if I didn't make you up in my mind. My best friend didn't see you guys and said I'm delusional." You laughed to yourself as you already looked forward to clowning her about the whole thing.

After he carefully cleaned you up, he sat you back down on your feet and you quickly pulled up your pants as he did the same.

"Wooyoung never really stopped looking for your friend either by the way. He said she would be his perfect muse." He said with a smirk that highted his dimples even more.

A soft laugh escaped you as a thought formed in your mind. "You just gave me an idea for her next single workshop." San mirrored your knowing smirk as he laced your hand with his and led you towards the work station and your almost finished vase.

He turned towards you with a shy smile. "It might be a bit out of order, but would you like to go on a date with me? I would love to see where our story goes."

You gave him a big smile in return and nodded your head. "I would actually love that."

He took a seat on his spinning chair and pulled you onto his lap before he gave you a kiss on your temple and turned he workstation back on before wet his hands. "Let's start with finishing up your work first."

A/n: I tried to proofread this FF as best as I could, but English isn't my first language, and I'm dyslexic so I apologize for the eventual mistakes. I hope you liked this ff.

Little Bonus: I found this while looking for inspos for the thumbnail pic. ♡

#kpop #atinyateez #ateez #ateez atiny #atiny forever #choi san #ateez ff #jung wooyoung #park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #choi jongho #song mingi #kang yeosang #jeong yunho #kpop ff #san x reader #ateez smut #smut #kpop smut

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mollywog · 3 days ago

Note

What are your thoughts on Possibility of Peeta in Canon feeling guilt over a perception that he forced Katniss into the Star crossed lovers?

Oooo -Thank you for giving me an opportunity to talk about this.

One of Peeta’s main survival tactics is his ability to read people and situations…. And he’s pretty good at it (which probably was helpful to him far before the arena with a volatile mother but that’s maybe more the stuff of HCs so moving on)

With that in mind:

One of the first things Peeta says to Katniss upon her discovering him in the arena is:

"Lean down a minute first," he says. "Need to tell you something." I lean over and put my good ear to his lips, which tickle as he whispers. "Remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it."

Even in his fevered state, Peeta is aware that this is an act (at least on Katniss’s side)

Later - when he’s trying to convince Katniss not to go to the feast and she claims that she isn’t, he says:

"You're such a bad liar, Katniss. I don't know how you've survived this long." He begins to mimic me. "I knew that goat would be a little gold mine. You're a little cooler though. Of course, I'm not going." He shakes his head. "Never gamble at cards. You'll lose your last coin," he says.

‘I knew that goat would be a little gold mine. You're a little cooler though. Of course, I'm not going.’ -> all moments he (accurately) clocked where Katniss wasn’t being 100% honest if not outright lying

The ‘I don’t know how you’ve survived this long’ part is particularly interesting to me but I digress.

So then fast forward to after the feast where Katniss risked her life to save him:

"No! Just don't, Katniss!" His grip tightens, hurting my hand, and there's real anger in his voice. "Don't die for me. You won't be doing me any favors. All right?"

I'm startled by his intensity but recognize an excellent opportunity for getting food, so I try to keep up. "Maybe I did it for myself, Peeta, did you ever think of that? Maybe you aren't the only one who ... who worries about ... what it would be like if ..."

I fumble. I'm not as smooth with words as Peeta. And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don't want him to die. And it's not about the sponsors. And it's not about what will happen back home. And it's not just that I don't want to be alone. It's him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread

"If what, Katniss?" he says softly.

I wish I could pull the shutters closed, blocking out this moment from the prying eyes of Panem. Even if it means losing food. Whatever I'm feeling, it's no one's business but mine.

"That's exactly the kind of topic Haymitch told me to steer clear of," I say evasively, although Haymitch never said anything of the kind. In fact, he's probably cursing me out right now for dropping the ball during such an emotionally charged moment. But Peeta somehow catches it.

"Then I'll just have to fill in the blanks myself," he says, and moves in to me.

In this moment Katniss inwardly acknowledges that she has real feeling beyond the act and Peeta, again, reads those feelings correctly.

This is the turning point for him.

So, then imagine his surprise on the train tracks (and all the self doubt):

"It was all for the Games," Peeta says. "How you acted."

"Not all of it," I say, tightly holding on to my flowers.

"Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what's going to be left when we get home?" he says.

(Just picture Peeta replaying the games in his head and trying to figure out where he missed the tell.)

We often joke about Peeta being oblivious to Katniss’s feelings for him in Catching Fire, but really: He’s been burned by ‘misinterpreting’ her before and he’s trying not to make the same ‘mistake’ again.

In a way

“You love me. Real or not real?

Is a remnant of that doubt.

Anyways - back you your original question:

There wasn't a single person in Panem expecting the Gamemakers to allow for two winners prior to the rule change... 73 years of one Victor: It's unprecedented.

The star-crossed lovers strategy, under normal game circumstances,

Benefits them both. The romance makes them both fan favorites to sponsors. But, at the end of the day, there can only be one Victor. So when one were to die, public sympathy would swing sponsors towards the broken hearted other.

Relied very little on Katniss; she didn't have to opportunity to state her feelings for Peeta to the audience after the interview and in the arena, up until the rule change, she barely saw him. Had he died before the (unprecedented) rule change, there wouldn’t be much for her to do but appear sad. The star-crossed lover but is eventually just a sound bite.

No one could have predicted that both Katniss and Peeta would be crowned victors and have to maintain the strategy indefinitely.

So yes, on top of believing he mistook Katniss’s feelings for him in the arena, he then discovered they’d have to maintain the pretense of lovers for the rest of their lives… I’m sure he felt all sorts of miserable ways about that.

#thank you for the ask!!#nonny #anon #ask #thg meta #maybe #peeta mellark

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respectthepetty · 3 days ago

Note

Hi, I read your post about Joong/Est & Dunk beef and I wanted to give you more information as I felt like you were missing some-- and bc I got to know them just 2 months and followed them on twitter and the things have been really insane? wild? and I just need to share.

So after Joong posted the tweet about him & Dunk not being on good terms right now, New(!) posted a reply to it "Is this okay?" (I assume he means is it okay to post such a thing?"). And after that Joong's tweet, I saw many fans who were unaware things have been weird btn JD finding out the two weren't getting along well. I'm not against actors sharing their feelings, but it really felt like a bad PR to me that hurts their branding. I was honestly wondering why GMMTV does not give their artists PR training when Joong suddenly posted a selfie of him & Dunk smiling with moustache filter and Dunk also posted a pic with him & Joong & P'tha who is CEO of GMMTV. AND Joong also deleted his tweet about the beef.

Now my unconfirmed theory is that after Joong posted that tweet, things got a bit out of hand and reached the ears of P'Tha and he made them sort of make up or at least ordered them to act more like usual, and for Joong to delete the tweet. In the event they had the next day, they were doing some fanservice too. It was very jarring to see the whole thing unfold tbh, especially Joong's emotional subtweets and retweets of shady quotes that lasted for weeks made me a little worried if he is mentally okay. I'm not sure JD are even on good terms right now (I don't think they are) - I don't know about Joong but Dunk seems to be trying to reach out like wishing him safe flight... but I sure do hope they can keep their working friendship or recover from whatever they are going through right now bc it would be really sad to see it end.

For Est/Joong, there seems to no visible movement for that side as far as I know except for both of their fans fighting each other like twice a week. They got into fight again today bc Joong doesn't even acknowledge or promote ThamePo even though he guest starred in it. The fan communities have been so toxic and weird and I just honestly feel so bad for the actors.

Anon, I turned off reblogs to this post except for the people mentioned within it because I just learned I could (look at this old dog learning new tricks!) and I hope this encourages you to come back to my inbox, anonymously, and offer more discussion without it getting muddled with others' thoughts.

Because I have a question.

But first I want to solidify one key point - I am invested in whatever happened between Joong and Est and, by extension, Joong and everyone else including Dunk. I just want to make that clear, so you don't think I'm trying to claim some level of emotional superiority with my following question because I'm not. I'm interested in everything you wrote because I'm nosy for no good reason, so I want to know what happened and all the details simply because I want to, and I want to make that clear before I continue.

Now, my question:

Why do you perceive Joong's behavior for the past few months as mentally unstable?

It was very jarring to see the whole thing unfold tbh, especially Joong's emotional subtweets and retweets of shady quotes that lasted for weeks made me a little worried if he is mentally okay.

You are not the first to write this. I have seen this sentiment in various spaces raised here with @waitmyturtles and @simysaru43, and on Reddit, so based on your comment, why do you think his behavior equates to him not being mentally okay? Regardless if he is or isn't, I want to know why YOU think that? And please know that I am genuinely asking anyone who has expressed this thought because I truly want to know others' perspective since I think his behavior is a suitable response to what is happening, whatever it might be (which, once again, I want to know what *that* is because I am soooo very nosy).

Joong is no longer friends (friendly?) with Est, yet they work at the same company; therefore, they must be around each other in a professional capacity. He doesn't seem to be friends (friendly?) with Daou anymore either. Yet Dunk, his work partner, hung out with them outside of work, so why can't he be bothered by that? People have stated it seems immature that he would dictate someone else's behavior, but I think we are underestimating the demands of their jobs and the unstated obligations they must abide by within their working relationships. Joong is an actor in a genre that is known for its (toxic) fans, so I am also surprised that GMMTV doesn't have a stronger grasp on any of its actors' social media presences, but Joong is also human, so having emotions, even public ones, is part of that.

So is the worrisome part of his posts that they focus on his emotions? Does it worry you that his posts are rooted in him publicly revealing his feelings? I'm not in the practice of defending men or their behavior, but I don't like the implication that a man feeling is cause for concern. That's why I'm asking why you are worried about him because I don't want to assume this is where you are coming from. I'm not asking for you to defend yourself or your comments because this is not a battle. I'm kindly asking for your perspective because my background (Mexican, Black, American) tells me this is messy behavior from a man, but my ideologies (feminist, anarchist, lover) tell me to be proud that he is allowing himself to display his feelings on a public forum.

But I might be missing something, culturally, generationally, or a third item I haven't thought about. Which is why I'm asking why his behavior is unsettling to you? I truly hope you respond, and if you want, I won't share your response.

Either way, let's discuss this further.

#I want men to feel their feels #but I could be missing something #so help me understand this thought

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wonnienovels · 1 day ago

Text

"𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄.."

desc :

trying to cheer up your best friend

you and han were close friends, always sharing your thoughts, problems, and secrets, even though you didn’t see each other as often as you’d like. despite the distance, you always found your way back to each other. but when han needed help, he never reached out directly. he expected you to find him on your own when he was struggling, though he rarely let you see that side of him. instead, he often leaned on his bandmates during tough times.

during the five star era, han was struggling, but you didn’t know. weeks passed without seeing him, and when you called, he didn’t pick up like he usually did. you knew something was wrong.

one day, his bandmates contacted you, worried because han had stopped replying to them and hadn’t returned to the dorm. they asked if he was with you, which sent a wave of anxiety through you. panic set in as you feared something had happened to him.

you decided to search for him, heading to the rooftop where you two often met. when you arrived, you found him sitting on the ground, headphones on, and a slice of cheesecake in hand. he looked calm, but you could see the exhaustion in his slow movements.

you sat down beside him, still catching your breath from rushing to find him. he glanced over at you and gave you a soft grin.

“you found me…”

he said quietly, his voice laced with both relief and weariness. his cheeks lifted as he smiled, trying to lighten the mood and make you laugh, which you did. han always knew how to ease the tension, even when he was struggling himself.

but you were annoyed at han for not saying anything and just letting him drown in his struggles. you knew that he knew that he could come to you, yet he chose not to. you glare at his smile with a glare, but you must've made your look too mean because he immediately got sensitive.

han saw your glare and knew immediately that you were mad at him. he had hoped you would be worried about him or at least happy to see him, but instead, your expression was filled with anger. His sensitive nature couldn’t handle it, and his body instantly tensed.

he took off his headphones, sighing softly as he spoke in a quiet, defeated tone.

“you’re mad at me, aren't you?”

“yes, i am.”

han’s shoulders sank. he had expected your anger, but it still hurt to see that you couldn’t just be happy he was okay. he put the cheesecake aside and looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and exhaustion.

he took a few seconds to gather the courage to speak, his voice still low and weary.

“i guess i don’t blame you…”

you don't reply.

han fidgeted with his fingers nervously, the silence between you two weighing heavy on him. He knew he had messed up, and now he had to face the consequences.

he glanced up at you, trying to read your expression, but you were still giving him that same glare that stung his heart.

“say something…”

he said in a soft voice, almost pleading for your response.

“but what do you want me to say, han?”

han exhaled deeply, raking a hand through his messy hair. he avoided your gaze, feeling the pain of your anger more intensely.

he knew he had no excuse for his behavior, for shutting you out and not replying to your messages or calls. he had done it again, isolating himself and causing you worry and hurt.

his voice was quiet, almost vulnerable when he spoke.

“i don’t know… yell at me. yell at me and get it over with.”

“han, you know i'm not gonna yell at you, but i will end up doing so if you keep shutting yourself down like this…”

surprise flickered across han’s face. he had expected you to lash out and scold him, not hold back your anger.

he met your gaze again, still filled with guilt, but now a hint of relief that you weren’t going to scream at him. he took a moment before speaking, his voice laced with honesty and vulnerability

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry for shutting myself down, for not answering your calls or messages… i know i keep doing it, and i hate myself for it but… i don’t know how to stop.”

“what's the big difference, han? what makes this change necessary?”

han bit his lip, feeling the weight of your question.

he knew he wasn’t making any positive difference by isolating himself. in fact, it was making things worse. but he couldn’t help it. it was a deep-rooted habit that he struggled to break free from.

he sighed, avoiding your gaze once again.

“i don’t make any changes… i just… i feel like i’ll bother you with my problems. i don’t want to burden you with my struggles.”

“you've done it before though, why's today so different?”

han’s shoulders drooped even further as he heard your question. he knew you had a point. he had shared his troubles with you before.

he fidgeted with his fingers again, staring down at them instead of meeting your gaze. his voice was soft and laced with shame when he spoke.

“i don’t know… i don’t know why tonight is different. maybe… maybe i just feel more hopeless… more useless tonight... more lost.”

you sigh, hold his hands and stare deep into his eyes, whispering,

“you're not useless, okay?”

han’s breath hitched as you held his hands, your touch grounding him and bringing some comfort.

he finally looked up at you, and your gaze met his. he saw the concern and care in your eyes, and it made his heart ache. he wanted to believe you, but the dark thoughts in his mind wouldn’t let him.

“how am i not useless? i… i keep disappointing people. i keep hurting them.”

“you learn from mistakes, han, and i know that you learn really fast.”

han still looked doubtful, but your words began to reassure him a little.

he gripped your hands, finding strength in your touch. a small, bitter smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“maybe… maybe i learn fast… but it still feels like i just keep making the same ones over and over again.”

“no, han, i've seen you adapt to situations, you're amazing, really.”

han’s eyes widened slightly when he heard you call him amazing. he wasn’t used to compliments, especially not when he felt like he didn’t deserve them.

he looked away, a faint blush tinging his cheeks. He still didn’t feel good enough for your praise, but hearing it from you eased the pain inside.

“y-you really think i’m amazing?”

you nod and smile. a soft, genuine smile tugged at the corners of han’s mouth. a rush of emotions filled his heart, a mix of gratitude and vulnerability.

he held your hands tightly in his, feeling the warmth and comfort in your touch. he took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking.

“thanks… i… i don’t know why you think so highly of me but… it means a lot coming from you.”

“don't put yourself so low in the ranks. you're your number one priority. nobody else should come first.”

han knew you were right. in his quest to prioritize everyone over himself, he often neglected his own well-being.

but hearing the words aloud from you made it hit harder. he swallowed, nodding slowly in agreement.

his voice was soft, filled with a mix of vulnerability and determination.

“you’re right… i need to stop putting everyone else first. i need to start prioritizing myself…”

“see, i told you that you learn quick!”

han chuckled softly, feeling a mix of comfort and embarrassment at your comment. he smiled slightly, still holding onto your hands as he spoke.

“yeah, yeah, you’re right about that. i guess i learn quickly when someone like you teaches me.”

he gave your hands a gentle squeezing, still blushing from your praise.

he scooted closer to you and opened his arms, inviting you into the embrace. he wrapped his arms around you gently, holding you against him. he buried his face in the crook of your neck and let out a soft sigh, feeling the tension and weariness start to melt away.

#kpop #stray kids #han jisung #oneshot #angst i guess #skz x you #skz stay #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz #angst with a happy ending

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horrorslvt · 1 day ago

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Hi, sweet 🍬🍭cheeks. If you don't mind my dear 💕, can I have NSFW, with thomas Hewitt, michael myers, and bubba Sawyer with s/o who are very submissive and will do anything to be able to have sex with slashers, as well as s/o who like once using lingerie with bunny headband. S/O also has high Sex drive.

I know you're going to think I'm a pervert but I can't help this idea that pops up whenever I think about slashers.

You can freely ignore my request sweet 🍬🍭cheeks, btw don't forget to take care of your health and always drink lots of water my dear 💕🤗

Run, rabbit, run.

Characters: Thomas Hewitt, Michael Myers, Bubba Sawyer.

Summary: What would the slashers be like with an S/O who has a high sex drive and is very submissive.

Trigger warnings: NSFW, knives.

A/N: Hellooo, I love this request. It's so sweet 😭 and I'm sorry it took me so long to get to it because of my hiatus. Also, I would never think someone is a pervert for a request, I read very weird shit y'all, don't worry. This is a judge free zone. Also, I wasn't sure if this was a preference/reaction/one-shot request, so I did preferences, but if you wanted one-shots you can totally request again.

Thomas Hewitt:

I feel like at the beginning, he would definitely be taken aback by it, seeing you were so persistent about wanting him. Years of being seen as disgusting by everyone will do that to you.

But he definitely gets used to it. In the beginning, he wouldn't be too sure what to do, but as time goes on, he gets it. You sit on his lap in front of everyone looking for a reaction, and his hands go straight to your hips, his masked face straight to the back of your head, breathing a bit heavily into your hair to let you know how much he wanted to take this further when you two were alone.

And when he sees you with lingerie and bunny ears, it's fucking on. He pounces on you like he wants to eat you (in a not literal way), and his heavy rough hands are quickly manhandling you into his lap so you can jump on it. He's a bit of a brute, though, so the lingerie probably doesn't stay on for long, but the bunny ears do.

Michael Myers:

Now Michael is a bit different. He doesn't tend to show much emotion towards anything, his presence being menacing 99% of the time... but as sick as it sounded, it kinda added to the lustful things he made you feel.

When you two start living together, it takes him a bit to realize what you want or what you're hinting at with the things you do. He thinks you're sitting on his lap or rubbing against him or whispering some dirty stuff in his ear, almost as a joke or just to bother him.

So the first couple of times, he decides to fuck the teasing attitude out of you. Which quickly makes him realize that's exactly what you wanted. So when you start asking for it, he obligues, gladly.

The day you decide to take things a bit further and use lingerie and bunny ears, though, he's surprised at first, his body a bit frozen on the bedroom doorframe. But when he snaps out of it, he walks to the bed slowly and tilts his head slightly, looking at you like a predator. And then his hands take hold of your ankles, and he roughly yanks you closer to the edge of the bed to where he is and... gives you what you want.

He would probably cut the lingerie off your body with a knife, and he doesn't necessarily take the bunny ears off you, but they do end up falling off when he grabs you by the hair.

Bubba Sawyer:

Just like Thomas, he's also taken aback by it. And just like Michael, he also doesn't get it at the beginning. He's used to being treated as a weirdo and a pawn by his family, so he wasn't expecting someone to want him, let alone that much.

I feel like he would probably need you to straight up tell him you want him to rearrange your guts... and then he would also gladly do so. Maybe a bit inexperienced and sloppy at the beginning, but the more you do it, the better he would be at it. And boy, do you do it a lot. He really enjoys having control over you. Though he doesn't know what to do at the beginning, he gets used to it.

I think he's the most shy at seeing you in lingerie and bunny ears. His cheeks get red under his mask, and his blood starts flowing to two places at one. But very similar to Thomas, he pounces on you.

I don't think he would rip your clothes off you, but he would definitely take them off in a rather hurry. He doesn't take the ears off, though. After you two finish a couple of times and your head falls to his chest in exhaustion, his hand moves to touch the ears, almost examining them, making you chuckle a bit.

#thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #bubba sawyer x you #bubba sawyer x reader #michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #michael myers #bubba sawyer #thomas hewitt #the texas chainsaw massacre #halloween #slasher x reader

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milkamel · 3 days ago

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Heyyy guys I'm a little low energy rn so I have some asks piled up- but don't worry I didn't forget about you I'll reply to everything in this small compilation <3 (it's more comfortable to answer everything in one sitting XD)

I mean…I'd probably read it? Honestly I could eat up almost everything that has Cross in it XD I'm that desperate lol And this has the potential to have an interesting story :3

Sadly I still didn't listen to Epic so I don't have a full picture of those characters but from the bits I heard it sounds fun as the kross duo >:3

Not a fan of yandere tropes BUT the character's obsession over another is an interesting thing to explore >:0 I don't think Killer would go around murdering anyone who'd look at Cross the wrong way but it's certainly has the potential and omg the angst the drama the heartbreak!!

If he was pregnant… I have no idea, depends on the partner, Cross's own mental state, etc. If he's confident enough that he can deal with the kid he'd keep the child lol XD

I'm neutral to the genre. Not something I enjoy a lot or go out of my way to search, but I don't hate it and might read it if I'm interested enough. Though nowadays I barely see it lol

AWWW TY ANON- THIS IS SO SWEET YOU'RE MAKING ME BLUSH 🥺😭💞💞 eueueueuefdkj

Oh yes, I'd love to hug Cross like that >:0 That boy deserves all the love and affection and I- omg stop fueling my simping fantasies!! 😭😭🙏

#mmelask

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scarred-but-still-smiling · 3 days ago

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A Legacy Of Love

In which Odysseus finds a very odd man in his palace who looks hauntingly like the man he used to be.

Read here on AO3!

It had been many years since Odysseus had felt comfortable and at ease; from Troy, through 20 years of tragedies to get home, and the many moons since he finally returned, he was still getting used to not being in danger in his every moment.

Walking through the palace halls, just allowing himself to soak in the peaceful ambience, he suddenly heard a voice from the general direction of the central courtyard. Purely on instinct, Odysseus reached into a nearby vase and pulled out one of the many weapons he'd hidden around the palace since arriving home and crouching low and stalking, close up to the wall, towards the courtyard.

"My King! My King, there's an intruder in the courtyard!" A familiar woman's voice rang through the halls, and Odysseus heard footfalls rushing towards him.

As the woman rushed through the door next to him, he swiftly grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him, covering her mouth to muffle any more screams that could give away their positions. "Amara," he whispered, "don't worry, it's just me." he released her once he was sure she had registered who he was. "Are you okay?"

The maid breathed heavily, hugging herself tightly, "Yes, my King, I'm okay, I don't think he saw me."

"That's good to hear," He smiled softly at her, "I would hate to lose you." his expression grew stern again, "Okay, did you see if our uninvited guest was armed?"

Amara shook her head, "Not that I could see. He was dressed very strangely, though. Like nothing I've ever seen before."

"And did those clothes look loose enough to be able to conceal a dagger he could get to easily?"

She shook her head again, "It didn't seem like it."

Odysseus nodded, "Thank you, Amara. Telemachus should be on his way to the weapon room with Athena. I need you to inform them both that we have at least one intruder, and possibly more. Ask them to comb the palace for anyone else while I deal with the man you saw. Then I want you to find Penelope and instruct her to arm herself, just in case someone tries to ambush her. Last I saw her, she was in our room, but she did talk about wanting to repair the drapes in the grand hall, so she could be collecting them. Understood?"

Amara nodded, "Yes, my King, right away."

Odysseus watched as the maid retreated until she was out of sight, before continuing his stealthy advancement on the courtyard.

Arriving at the doorway, he carefully slung the sword through his belt and picked up the bow and quiver he'd mounted above the arch, carefully positioning himself behind one of the support pillars to keep himself out of sight.

Carefully glancing around the pillar, he saw the man Amara had reported; she hadn't been wrong when she said he was dressed strangely: his upper body was clothed in an odd, pale blue, enclosed fabric sleeve, with sleeves enclosing his arms down to the wrist, and his legs were equally enclosed in a stiff, dark blue, fabric. He couldn't help but be bewildered for a moment; that couldn't be comfortable. Though, he thought, refocusing, it did mean there was no chance of any hidden weapons, unless they were strapped to his flesh, and those would be very difficult to access with the enclosed nature of the stranger's unusual garb.

Drawing an arrow back, Odysseus stepped out into the doorway, his aim locked onto the intruder's neck. "Who are you?" he snarled.

The stranger spun around, his arms raised, revealing a group of 4 strange characters on the fabric over his chest, and Odysseus almost released the shot, his eyes going wide in sheer surprise as he saw the man's face:

The stranger looked like him.

Like a younger him, the Odysseus who left for Troy all those years ago, an Odysseus unburdened by pain and loss.

He looked almost identical to Telemachus...

"What trick of the gods is this?!" He roared, glaring, his eyes burning crimson, advancing on the stranger. "Why do you look like my son?!"

The man stepped back in fear, his face turning the colour of ivory. "I-I'm not a threat." he stammered, "I'm not going to hurt your family, I swear to Horkos, I mean no harm." The man's gaze didn't waver from the arrow, "As for your other question, that's a very complicated story."

Odysseus cautiously lowered his bow, slowly releasing the tension in the bowstring. An oath to Horkos was serious, calling down a generational curse if broken.

The man relaxed, colour slowly returning to his face. "Oh, thank goodness." he smiled. "I was worried you'd Antinous me for a second there."

Odysseus froze. "What did you just say?" he began to raise the bow again, "The only people who know how I killed that bastard are my family and maids, how do you know that detail?"

The stranger slowly raised his arms again, "That's part of the complicated story, my friend." He laughed nervously, "I can tell you it if you stop pointing sharp things at me."

"You will stay here until my children finish combing the palace for any others who came here with you."

"I mean, I hope none of the others wound up here," the stranger said, "just me getting home is gonna be hard enough." He paused, "wait, children? As in plural?" He tilted his head, "as in you had another kid after Telemacus?" The man tilted his head the other way and began muttering to himself, "no, that wouldn't make sense; he doesn't look much older than his 50s, which means that, even if they had the kid 9 months to the day after he returned, that child wouldn't be nearly old enough to assist in recon, hell it would be barely old enough to hold a sword." He straightened up, beaming, "did you adopt?"

Odysseus was so caught off guard, seeing such joy on a face so like his son's, and his own, he couldn't help but smile himself. "You could say that," he unstrung his arrow and returned it to the quiver, slinging his bow over his shoulder. "It was Penelope's idea."

As if on cue, Odysseus felt two sets of eyes watching the pair of them.

"That'll be them now," he said, "report? Does this man have any friends in the palace?"

Telemachus' voice approached from his left, "Not that we could find, father."

Then Athena's from his right, "Indeed, it appears that, whoever this unusual man is, he arrived alone. What about you? What information were you able to gather? I notice your weapons are sheathed, so I gather you have determined he is not a threat?"

Odysseus nodded. "He's odd, but he seemed about as confused as to how he's here as we are, and if he wanted to hurt us, he wouldn't be in such an open area."

He watched as Telemachus squinted at the stranger curiously, "Is... is it just me or-?" He glanced at his reflection in the head of his spear. "Does he-?"

Athena nodded, "He does resemble you, yes. It's quite strange."

Looking between the two men, Odysseus was fully struck with how uncanny the resemblance was; if he were to remove the stranger's facial hair, they would likely be perfect mirrors of each other.

The stranger clapped his hands over his mouth, "Holy crap," he gasped, "you adopted Athena?"

Telemachus drew himself to his full height, "That's Goddess of Wisdom, Princess Athena of Ithaca, to you."

Athena bowed her head and laughed softly, "That's quite alright, Telemachus. I don't mind."

Telemachus pouted, "But you deserve your full title!"

Odysseus sighed happily as the two laughed together, looking over at the stranger, "Like I said, it was Penelope's idea." He laid a hand on his son's shoulder, "go tell your mother that the coast is clear, she and Amara should be in our bedroom, worried out of their minds. We'll be in the family room when you're done; the stranger has to explain who he is and what he's doing here, and, apparently, it's going to be a long story."

Exiting the courtyard the way he came, Odysseus replaced the bow, arrows, and sword to their hiding places along the way. The stranger raised an eyebrow as the sword was placed back in the vase, "So," he mused, "you've not been home all that long, have you?" Odysseus mimicked his curious expression, "I've noticed a few barely visible pommels between the courtyard and here," he said in response, "you might wanna hide them a little bit better; if I can see them, then there's a good chance attackers could too."

Arriving in the family room, Odysseus saw Penelope and Telemachus already waiting for them, a platter of olives, cheeses, dried meats and fruit sitting on the table in the centre of the room.

As they approached, Penelope stood and smiled, bowing slightly at their guest, "Welcome, strange visitor," she said warmly, "it's nice to meet you, I am Penelope, and you are?"

The stranger's eyes went wide, and Odysseus saw the tips of his ears turn slightly flushed. The man bowed back, "Greetings, Queen Penelope of Ithaca, my name is Jorge Rivera-Herrans, it's an honour."

"That's a very strange name," Athena mused, as the group sat around the table, "from where do you hail, Jorge Rivera-Herrans?"

Jorge paused, as if trying to figure something out, "In terms of the where, somewhere far to the north and west of here."

"What do you mean by 'in terms of the where'?" Penelope inquired, "are you trying to imply that the when is also a factor?"

Jorge laughed, "Sharp as ever, I see," he smiled at Odysseus, "I can see why you fell in love with her all those years ago."

Odysseus blushed; the man wasn't wrong.

"She reminds me of my Talya," Jorge smiled softly, "beautiful, sharp as a new blade and powerful enough to make a man quake in his boots."

"So she was right?" Odysseus asked, "have you somehow come from a different time?"

Jorge nodded, "That's part of why it's such a complicated story."

"Father is remembered?" Telemachus asked excitedly, "for how long? How far in the future are you from? How did you get here?"

Jorge sighed deeply, glancing from Telemachus to Odysseus and back again, "A little over 2800 years. And I predict you'll be remembered for thousands more. Greek myth is full of stories that have been told and retold for centuries." He looked back at Odysseus, and the king felt the weight of eternity on his shoulders. "That's why I know how you killed Antinous, for one thing. And as for why we look so alike," the man from the future smiled kindly, "I'm one of those storytellers."

Odysseus found himself leaning forward in his seat, fascinated by the odd man's story. "2800 years? That's such a titanic span of time, how could you have ended up here?"

Athena tilted her head owlishly, it was a motion that always made Odysseus smile, even though it looked rather uncanny. "Unlike my grandfather, I am no authority on time," she ventured, "but I do know that it can be rather malliable under the right conditions."

"Grandfather?" Jorge said, "That'd be Chronos, correct?"

Athena nodded, "Indeed. If our stories are as retold as you say they are, I'm sure you know his tale."

"How do you mean malliable, Athena?" Penelope asked, "you mean it can be shaped? Altered?"

Athena nodded again, "That's correct; there are spots in the world, places where something monumentous enough happened, where time can be," she gestured for a term, "somewhat thin."

Jorge grimaced, "Note to self, stay away from Troy. Got it."

"While I'm not sure why Jorge arrived at the precise location and time he did, it's likely the thinning caused by Odysseus' return and slaughter of the suitors is what caused it." She looked to their guest, "Would I be correct in assuming that you were, perhaps, walking through whatever stands in this spot in the future?"

Odysseus opened his mouth to ask Jorge a question as the other man nodded in response to Athena's question, but the many he needed the answers to surged forward to choke him.

"Are you okay Odysseus?" Penelope asked, eyes filled with worry.

"How..." he hesitated, afraid of the answer he would get, "how am I remembered?"

The smile Jorge gave him was filled with warmth and care and kindness. "You're remembered as a man who loved his wife and son so utterly, so completely, that he would give anything, sacrifice anything, suffer any pain, to get home to them." the man slid from his seat and knelt in front of him, a gentle hand on his arm, "your legacy, King Odysseus of Ithaca, is a legacy of love." Jorge looked around at them all, "All of you, though your adoption of Athena isn't a tale that carries forward, are remembered as one of the most solid family units in history."

Odysseus felt something catch in his chest as Jorge spoke; to know that history remebered him, not as a monster, but a man, that they wouldn't condemn him for the atrocites he had to commit in order to get home.

"If you don't mind my asking, Jorge," Telemachus piped up, "you said you were one of the storytellers who tell our tale in the future. How did you tell it?"

Returning to his seat, Jorge looked over at Telemachus. "In song." He smiled, "I had the idea to make a musical retelling of your father's story, so i asked around and found many singers who would, over the course of writing and recording, become my dear friends." Jorge looked to Odysseus, "the reason we look so alike, which is also the reason I look like Telemachus since he looks more like you than you think he does, is because I was the singer to portray you." He bowed his head, "And, might I say, it was an honour to do so."

Athena squinted at Jorge, "There's something you're not saying."

Odysseus watched, puzzled and a little astonished, as Jorge glared at Athena, "That part isn't important," he snapped, "all stories change as eons pass, that's a given."

Athena bristled, feathers briefly appearing on her shoulders and neck.

"Talking about the specific details I changed would only cause pain. In Odysseus if I was accurate, and in Penelope and Telemachus if I was not. Do you want that, goddess of wisdom?"

Athena averted her gaze, and Odysseus was lost for words. "No. I do not, they have suffered enough."

Jorge sighed in relief, "Thank you."

For the briefest of moments, hearing the tone that Jorge used in his thanks, Odysseus remembered the argument he had had with Eurylocus before he'd climbed to petition Aeolus, and he shivered.

"Jorge," he said, trying to diffuse the tension in the room, "you're from hundreds and hundreds of years in the future, so I want to know; Athena told me she wished for a world that was kinder, has it come to pass yet?"

A sad smile spread across their visitor's face, "Almost," he said softly, "there will always be cruelty, there will always be ruthlessness and monsters, that's just how things shake out, but so much progress has been made." The man shook his head, a hint of song slipping into his words, tears beginning to sparkle in his eyes, "if that world exists, it's still far away from here, it's one I'll probably miss, it's far beyond my years. But she will live forever, I have faith she'll make it be. It's Humanity's endevour, you have my word it's one they'll see."

Odysseus looked over at Athena, eyes wide, hearing the familiar words, only to be met with an identical expression from the goddess.

A quiet chuckle brought their attention back to Jorge, and they saw him wiping the tears from his eyes with a smile. "From the looks on your faces, it looks like I was right. That's good to know." He sighed, "now then, I'm grateful you didn't shoot me, King Odysseus, and I'm grateful for your hospitality Queen Penelope, but I have friends to get back to who were probably very alarmed when I walked through a crumbled archway and seemingly vanished in front of them. So then," stood from his seat and bowed to Athena, "Goddess of Wisdom, Princess Athena of Ithaca, if you could find it in your heart to help me return to my loved ones, I would greatly appreciate it."

Athena smiled kindly, and Odysseus couldn't help but remember the friendship that they'd built together as he grew from a child into a man. His thoughts drifted to the relationship between Athena and his son, and he looked around the room in search of him, but noticed that Telemachus had left.

"Very well, Jorge Rivera-Herrans. I believe speaking with my grandfather would give us a better understanding of how exactly you got here, and thus how to get you home. Unfortunately that means travelling to-"

Jorge nodded, "If I remember my mythology correctly, he's either prisoner in Tartarus or a king in Elysium, right?"

"I'm impressed." Athena replied, "would you like to join me? There's a chance he'll be able to send you home directly."

"I mean, as long as you're aware that I'm the furthest thing from a warrior and would require your protection."

"That is acceptable."

"Wait! Hold on!" Telemachus rushed into the room with a collection of weapons clutched in his arms; a sword, a dagger, a spear, a bow and a quiver of arrows. "You can't go on a journey without a way to defend yourself, it's dangerous out there, right father?"

Odysseus laughed, "I'm so proud to call you my son." He looked to Jorge, "he's right though. Though I think you know that very well, don't you, Storyteller?"

"Yeah," Jorge chuckled, "and, unlike you, danger and I aren't on the best speaking terms." He turned to Telemachus, "I think, if I'm being protected by Athena, meaning Quick Thought is in play, a bow and arrow would probably combo the best. Though I would also appreciate a dagger, just in case."

Odysseus understood about half of those words, but, as he watched Jorge recieve his weapons, he was brought back to the day he left for Troy, so full of hope and determination. "Be careful out there, Jorge Rivera-Herrans, I would hate for the future to lose a man such as you. And... thank you. You've given me some much-needed hope this day."

"Of course. It's only fair, really; your story has given hope to so many others in my time. Even just from my own telling of it."

Odysseus watched as the strange man turned away and walked with Athena out of the palace, Penelope following behind and calling the maids to escort them to the kitchens to pick up provisions for the journey.

"Oh!" Telemachus shouted after them, "what is father's story called in your time?"

Jorge laughed, not even turning around as he answered.

"The Odyssey!"

#epic the musical #epic the troy saga #epic the cyclops saga #epic the ocean saga #epic the circe saga #epic the underworld saga #epic the thunder saga #epic the wisdom saga #epic the vengeance saga #epic the ithaca saga #epic odysseus #jorge rivera herrans #epic fanfic #scarred stories #I'm back bitches

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smoshtwtdrama · 4 hours ago

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FOR TODAY'S TOPIC(6) UPDATE!—

"my point was if you write something horny about real life people, criticism is natural" — Jaycee AKA TREVRASHA said after our conversation for a clearance between them and lilacfoxes

"Though I may not know what stories have gone through, I'll listen both sides and gather enough to understand what went on" — smoshtwtdrama

Few hours ago I have blocked Jaycee's main Tumblr and after that their new account found me and have reached me out. At first they replied to my TOPIC (6) talking about how this is a "bootleg mean girl" thing so I reached out to them.

I message them first with kindness and asked; "may I know why you're doing this? The whole "oh they're a bad person I'm gonna screenshot our conversations and let others hurt them back!" Thing?'

They've responded back sharing a kind tone as well before explaining; "I don't think lilac is a bad person, if you're asking why I posted the DM, wouldn't you? Who DMs someone to call them out of their name. -- especially after publicly putting on a front as if they're the one being attacked."

Smoshtwtdrama: "but why would you start first? If I remember correctly"

Jaycee: "because I followed them, I came across their Tumblr post on my feed. The post was essentially venting about people posting screenshots of their AO3 fic (the damangela one). I commented on the post (someone could argue that I shouldn't have commented in the first place but I truly wasn't being negative) and said something along the lines of "you posted porn about real people, of course some think it's weird." -- these past two days are the most I've even used Tumblr so I wasn't even expecting a response. But they responded saying most people had an issue with the damangela pairing, not rpf. I tried to make it clear that I didn't have any issue with rpf and I wasn't even judging them for rpf smut, I was saying that people weren't discrediting them as a writer, they were weirded out by the concept of two smosh members having sex. Whether or not they hate Damien has nothing to do with me, I personally enjoy him."

Smoshtwtdrama: "I see.. but in my point of view nobody should be posting about anybody if they could just communicate and understand through DMs, why must it start on long arguments on twitter? Several smosh authors are now terrified to receive hatred or become a laughing stock because of your posts."

Jaycee: "they posted me first on this app. i made the first tweet, basically repeating the same sentiment i had in my comment. i didn’t use lilac’s name or anything, because it wasn’t directed towards them. the interaction we had inspired me, yes, but they aren’t the only people who’ve created rpf smut (not even just smoshfandom but generally). they somehow saw the tweet, which had only 8 likes, and proceeded to screenshot it and post to their blog/acc. lilac posted me first, claiming that a nameless, if-the-shoe-fits kinda tweet was bullying them. i, in return, screenshotted the post made about me and posted it on twitter. i joked that i’ve now ‘made it’ and am famous because the situation was funny. people in the comments were laughing with me, not at lilac, but of course lilac is somehow the victim"

Smoshtwtdrama: "oh I see, but in lilac's point of view everything she read felt like it was pointed to her.. now I understand" I said because I'm starting to connect the dots between each other's posts

Jaycee: "and last thing i’ll say is i’m the literal last person smosh writers have to worry about. i wasn’t posting lilac to make fun of their writing. as i said, it didn’t even stem from a ‘fuck ur writing’ place. my point was if you write something horny about real life people, criticism is natural."

The conversation ends there with a simple "thank you for letting me know" I've asked Jaycee if they're willing to let me post our conversation to clear the air and they said yes.

But for the audience out there, this isn't something to side on of who's wrong or fault, it was a clear misinterpretation, if not then a wrongful communication. We don't have to post what we said if we can just communicated through messaging.

I understand both sides, nobody is wrong. And nobody should take sides.

What's your thoughts on this? Let me know!

|| THAT'S ALL FOR TODAY'S TOPIC!

#smosh #smoshtwt #smoshtwt drama #smoshtwt news #smoshblr #smoshtwt update

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alice--pallas · 18 hours ago

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Alice couldn't help but let out another chuckle when her brother proclaimed that she ought to be a bitch more often. Smiling, she said "You know, I think you might be right... Maybe I'd be more productive that way, get more shit done." Then again, maybe being a bitch is what would encourage someone to finish the job they'd started. She couldn't know for sure. She raised her eyebrows a bit when he mentioned Alec being an energy vampire--she couldn't necessarily disagree with that notion, though she was surprised that Cyrek was mentioning him. After all, it was the second time in less than a month that he'd brought up her ex-husband after having not spoke about him in years. She found it peculiar--she didn't mind it, of course. It wasn't like back when the wound was still fresh and hearing Alec's name felt like the equivalent of being stabbed in the chest over and over again. Really, it was more just the fact that Alice didn't think about Alec much these days. With a curious smirk, she said "Why do you keep bringing him up all of a sudden? Has my ex-husband been on your mind lately?" She chuckled and clarified, "I don't mind, of course. I'm just curious, you don't usually mention him." Giving a shrug, she said "But maybe... I don't know, I'm not as angry as I used to be, you know? So I suppose I'm less of a bitch--usually. But maybe Bitchy Alice will begin to make an appearance more often."

Of course, she didn't blame Cyrek for feeling such vitriol for her ex-husband. After all, Alec's departure had pretty much torn the journalist apart and unfortunately, her twin brother was left to pick up the pieces after the fact. Honestly, if someone had done to him what Alec had done to her, she'd most definitely hate them forever as well so it was only fair.

Alice nodded in agreement, thinking back to her own childbirth that ultimately resulted in an emergency C-section near the end. "Yeah, that is fair... Even with my C-section, those contractions were a fucking bitch. I liked being pregnant but I didn't like that," she chuckled. What's that say about us? We like pain? Masochism? Sure looks like you're one to me, layin' here with a bullet in your gut. She rolled her eyes and laughed at his suggestion, appreciating the flash of his smile, even if it was fleeting. "Oh, yeah, this is definitely what I was going for--a gunshot wound and nothing more than heavy strength Tylenol. It's a dream come true." Shaking her head, she said "I don't know... For some reason, the needles never bothered me... I guess we really are just gluttons for punishment." Perhaps it was the punishment that they both felt they deserved, though she didn't say that part out loud--she didn't really need to, considering it hung in the air right above their heads. Still, she could always depend on Cy to be someone who just understood her past with addiction. There was no need to explain or justify her thinking. He already got it. Holding out her hand for the Aleve, she said "Thank you so much." Then, with a chuckle, she add "And please, you think I'm gonna' rat on you to Susie? For you doing her job better than she can? No fuckin' way."

When he came back with her juice, she downed the Aleve and hoped that it would start to work sooner than later. "Thanks again." She took deep breath as her brother tried to calm her worries about her daughter. She knew he was probably right when he said that this would barely be a blip on Rhea's radar--that's how it should be. Still, she hated the idea that she was missing any part of her daughter's life while she was locked up in this cheerless hospital. She missed her little laugh and smile. She missed reading to her at night. But she was eternally grateful for Cyrek and Stella taking Rhea in for the meantime. "Thank you so much for taking care of her. I know you guys have a lot going on, but... I really appreciate it. I know she's in good hands--and hell, she's probably having a blast since she basically gets to have a sleepover with her cousins every night," she chuckled. She forced a small smile when he called her by her birth name--he usually only did that when he was trying to comfort her and she was being stubborn and not listening. We can't hide our kids from reality. Giving a small nod, she said "You're right about that... I hate that you're right so often." Finally looking at him and agreeing to the notion of Rhea visiting her in the hospital, she said "Okay. The next time you visit, if you're able to bring her, I would love to see her. I miss her so much."

That rich guy from the council? She couldn't be sure if he was referring to Abraxis or Kaz--both of them had visited her, Abra more than once of course. If ever there were a time to come clean, it was now. What the fuck are you up to? What'd you dig up? There was also that. "Look, I don't... I can't prove it yet but I think that...somehow, some way, someone on the council may be connected to the body snatchings..." The both of them knew damn well that Kurt Adler was one of the corpses that had been robbed from his grave--she hadn't been on scene for that one in particular but she'd looked at the pictures after the fact with her boss. Her heart ached for her twin brother and his loss. "And I want to get closer to it, but... It feels...really unsafe now. But at the same time, am I not on the right track? Why else would I be gunned down like that?"

When he suggested that she pull back from the council, she said "Well, that's going to be a bit difficult." Taking a deep breath, she looked up at her brother and said "Heads up, you're not gonna' like this, but... I've been seeing Abraxis Webb for a few months now. We've been keeping it quiet, obviously--and I can imagine what you're going to say, but... I don't know, I met them at the Ivy and we were flirting and I thought that I could get an in on the council--I thought that if I got close, if I had a connection, I could investigate more. And I've been able to do that, but... It's not just about reconnaissance anymore. We've gotten pretty serious. That's why they're hanging around the hospital. They're here to see me. And I believe that I can trust them but I'm very aware that I could be wrong. I don't think I am, but... I also don't have the greatest track record, so...it's a possibility, I suppose. I could be wrong. And that's what I'm trying to figure out."

Dark humor was practically all he had to offer in the face of tribulations that didn't preclude certain death. ( Grief was an adversary he had no business wrangling with; the guilt that he was still chained to his ankles wasn't dragging him in the dark waters of the Atlantic ocean without anchor anymore, but washing ashore was no better than where his identical twin had landed facedown. He'd been twiddling his thumbs about suggesting a grief group for a while now with Stella, that perhaps they could both benefit, and connecting with other people was bountifully more productive to him than sitting across from a lone therapist ever was. If it were something anonymous, maybe they'd do alright. Was it worth a shot? Starting this... new chapter with her at some point, a family, he didn't want them to get too caught up in these trivial mind games that Kurt's disturbed headstone had wrought. Deep down, he knew that it was to get in his head. If it was him they wanted, then he needed to stop giving them the ammunition. ) "I'd say laughter's the best medicine or whatever the phrase is, but I'm thinkin' that's shite right now. But I think you should be a bitch more often. I was startin' to think livin' in the Big Apple sucked it right out of you, y'know, some energy vampire shit Alec was feedin' off of."

His opinion of the guy wasn't very high, unaided by what few interactions they'd had outside the wedding revolving around the coupling's pending separations. Alice might wish him well, but he sure as fuck didn't. Someone had to hold a grudge around here.

"Mm. I worry 'bout that with the whole childbirth thing. It's real hard without epidural. I thnik Stella's gonna make a ritual sacrifice out of an OBGYN if she don't have it." Before they'd started dating, he would've been no dice on that being on the table too. "Think painkillers would be more my shit, though. She wasn't much for the needles. What's that say about us? We like pain? Masochism? Sure looks like you're one t' me, layin' here with a bullet in your gut," he ribbed lightly, the corners of his mouth quirking as he gave her a barely-there smirk. If they couldn't joke about their ironic eclipse of a vice, then what fun was it? Plus, it was one of those times Alice seemed cagey and agitated that it was causing her problems in the forefront; after a while, it could be almost... forgotten, until something pulled the reminder back into the room like an old friend you didn't want to have an intervention for. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the bottle and unscrewed the lid, saying as he shook two into her hand, "I'll go steal a juice from the cart. Don't rat me out, bitch."

It didn't take him more than a couple minutes to come back, a juicebox in hand, poking the hole out and turning it over in a plastic cup, filling it up and handing it to her. Taking a seat, he let out a snort. "Please. Four year olds can barely like, use their pea brains to remember shit at this age. Stell baked her some fresh cookies and she forgot all 'bout it until the next time she was askin' for mummy. Don't worry. She's more scared of the pair of used socks my crackhead of a cat likes to throw up and down the hall at midnight." After a pause, perched in the hardbacked chair rather than the edge of the bed as the scent of sterile cleaning products and hospital perfume were bound to spark anxieties for him later if he sat at the bed's edge, he reached out to lay his hand over Alice's. "Aliki, she's fine. If you wanna see her, s'not gonna hurt nothin' really. She's gonna keep askin' for you. And... it's garbage advice, but we can't hide our kids from reality."

Lifting his hands in mock surrender, they fell away from her own, though the silence he settled into was slightly unnerved, and he quirked the corner of his mouth. "That rich guy from the council? Yeah, I've seen a couple council people around your room. Like vultures. What the fuck are you up to? What'd you dig up?" The word usage was probably an irony to his own personal hell he'd been wading through since the beginning of the year, but now wasn't the time to get into that. At least, not right this second, while Alice had other fears on her mind. Silent as he listened, he picked at a broken thumbnail, solemnity overshadowing the overexuberant persona that he knew how to don like the back of his hand, receding to his normal, sullen self. "I dunno. You're up the council's arse, somehow. Enemies don't really kill enemies if they know they're enemies. S' the snakes you should watch out for. You get me? Just remember t' be careful with trust. Whatever you're doin' with the council, if you wanna keep up this thing, you better fall back." Cyrek fucked with people who had money with their easily replaceable shit. If he was stealing their operations and plans, well, he wasn't that fucking daft. Licking his lips, a breath left his lungs. Maybe they were both putting everyone around them in danger. Like brother, like sister. "Whatever danger I got comin', I did it to me." Self-deprecating? And true.

#tw: violence mention #tw: pregnancy mention #tw: gun mention #tw: drugs mention #tw: addiction #tw: death mention

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