#The sad thing is that his plans are working'

[lila-lou]

✨The smarter choice - 5/8✨

Summary: The pull was undeniable—every glance, every touch, a spark. Dean was everything you shouldn’t want, yet resistance was futile.

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, Angst

Word Count: 8859

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

Dean froze, his coffee mug halfway to his lips as he stared at his brother. Sam wasn’t looking at him, instead focusing on the coffee like it might keep him grounded. But what struck Dean the most wasn’t the words—it was the lack of emotion in Sam’s voice. He didn’t sound devastated. He didn’t even sound surprised.

“Wasn’t working?”, Dean echoed, setting his mug down with a clink. “And you’re… okay with that?”.

Sam shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling in a way that felt more resigned than sad. “I… yeah… kinda”, he admitted after a moment. “I mean, I saw it coming. Things have been… off for a while now”.

Dean frowned, his chest tightening as he watched Sam’s calm demeanor. “Off? How?”.

Sam finally looked up, meeting Dean’s gaze. “I don’t know”, he said, shaking his head. “She was sweet, you know? Great to talk to, really kind. But I think maybe…”. He hesitated, biting his lip before continuing. “Maybe we just didn’t fit the way I thought we would. It always felt like something was missing”.

Dean’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping the counter behind him as he tried to process what Sam was saying. “And you didn’t say anything?”, he asked, his voice quieter now.

“What was I supposed to say?”, Sam replied, his tone practical, not defensive. “It’s not like I didn’t try. But I think she realized it too. She deserves someone who makes her feel… complete. And I don’t think I was that guy”.

Dean’s chest tightened, a mix of emotions swirling inside him—relief, guilt and frustration all at once. He wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, he just nodded, picking up his coffee and taking another sip to buy himself time. “Guess it’s for the best, then”, he muttered, his voice even.

Sam nodded too, his lips quirking into a small, almost rueful smile. “Yeah. I think it is”.

Dean didn’t say anything more, but as he stood there, the weight of what had happened hit him all at once. You’d left. You’d broken things off with Sam.

Dean sat there, the bitterness of his coffee doing little to distract him from the storm raging in his mind.

“Sam’s the smarter choice”.

Why? Why had you said that, pushed him away so cruelly, when you’d already decided to leave Sam? It didn’t make sense. None of it did. Dean’s hands tightened around the mug, his knuckles whitening as frustration bubbled up inside him. If you’d already planned on breaking up with Sam today, why the hell would you say something like that to him? Why tear him apart when you didn’t have to?

“Dean?”, Sam’s voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the moment. His brother was watching him now, concern flickering across his face. “You good?”.

Dean blinked, realizing his grip on the mug was so tight it was starting to shake. He forced himself to relax, to put on the easy, casual mask he’d worn a thousand times before. “Yeah”, he said, his voice rough. “Just… surprised, I guess”.

Sam nodded slowly, clearly not entirely convinced, but he let it go. “I think it really is for the best”. he said again, more to himself than to Dean. “I mean, I care about her, but… I think we both knew it wasn’t going anywhere”.

Dean swallowed hard, his chest tightening at the words. He nodded, giving Sam a noncommittal grunt before grabbing his coffee and turning toward the hallway. “I’m gonna get cleaned up”, he muttered, not waiting for a response as he headed for his room.

Dean stepped into his room, setting the mug down on the dresser before shrugging out of his flannel. The motion pulled at the tender, bandaged wounds on his back and torso, a sharp reminder of the night before. He hissed softly, glancing at himself in the mirror on the opposite wall.

The reflection wasn’t pretty. His torso was a patchwork of bruises and bandages, the deep cuts still healing beneath the layers of gauze. He traced a hand over the edge of one bandage, his jaw tightening as his mind betrayed him, pulling him back to the memory of your hands on his skin.

Your touch had been gentle, careful, but there had been something else in the way your fingers moved—a quiet intimacy, a tenderness that lingered long after you’d finished patching him up. Dean could still feel the ghost of your touch, the warmth of your palms against his back, the way you’d whispered his name when you thought he was in too much pain.

He clenched his fist, resting it against the edge of the dresser as he looked away from the mirror. “Dammit”, he muttered under his breath, the frustration boiling over.

He couldn’t shake you, couldn’t forget the way you’d looked at him last night, even as you’d pushed him away. It wasn’t just about the words you’d said—it was the way your voice had trembled, the way your eyes had shimmered with unshed tears. You’d been trying to convince yourself just as much as you were trying to convince him.

Dean turned back to the mirror, running a hand through his hair as he took a steadying breath. He didn’t know what the hell to do with this, with any of it. But as much as he wanted to shove it all down, to bury it the way he always did, he couldn’t. Not this time. Not with you.

His fingers brushed the edge of the bandages again, and he closed his eyes, letting himself linger in the memory of your touch for just a moment longer. Then he straightened, shaking his head as if to clear it.

Dean reached for a clean shirt, carefully pulling it over his head and adjusting it to avoid pulling at the bandages.

A few days later, the bunker was quiet as the evening settled in. Dean sat in the war room, a beer in hand. He was trying to focus on anything other than the ache in his chest that hadn’t let up since you left.

The sound of his phone buzzing on the table snapped him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen: it was Sam.

“Hey”, Dean answered, his tone casual, though his brows furrowed slightly. “What’s up?”.

“I’m out with Jodie”, Sam said, his voice slightly muffled by the sound of background chatter. “But just a heads-up—Y/N said she’s stopping by the bunker tonight to grab her stuff”.

Dean froze, his grip tightening around the beer bottle. “She’s coming here?”, he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

“Yeah”, Sam confirmed, though there was a faint hesitation in his tone. “She didn’t want to bother me about it, so I told her to go ahead. Figured you’d be around, so it shouldn’t be a problem”.

Dean forced a grunt of acknowledgment, his chest tightening at the thought of seeing you again. “Yeah, no problem”, he said, though the words felt hollow.

“Thanks”, Sam said, clearly relieved. “She’ll probably just be in and out. I doubt she’ll hang around”.

Dean nodded to himself, his jaw clenching. “Yeah. Got it”.

“Alright, I’ll see you later”, Sam said, before hanging up.

Dean sat there for a moment, staring at the phone in his hand. He took a long swig of his beer. He wasn’t ready for this—not after everything that had happened—but there was no getting around it now.

A part of him hoped you’d just grab your things and leave without saying much, but another part of him—the part he was trying to bury—was desperate to see you, to find some kind of closure or clarity.

With a heavy sigh, Dean stood and made his way to the kitchen, grabbing another beer to steel himself. It wasn’t long before he heard the faint echo of the bunker’s heavy door creaking open, followed by the soft sound of footsteps descending the stairs.

You were here.

You stepped into the bunker quietly, the familiar hum of its lights and the faint smell of leather and gun oil wrapping around you like a memory you weren’t ready to revisit. Sam had said he’d be out with Jodie for the evening, so you assumed the place would be empty. That was the plan: grab your stuff, leave the key on the table, and go. No lingering, no messy goodbyes.

You moved quietly through the bunker, making your way toward Sam’s room. It wasn’t easy being back, but you told yourself this was the last time.

Your hands moved quickly as you gathered the last of your belongings from Sam’s room, folding clothes and tucking small items into a bag. The room felt cold, impersonal now, like it had already started erasing the traces of you. It made your chest tighten, but you pushed the feeling aside. This was for the best.

Once your bag was packed, you slung it over your shoulder and made your way toward the map room. The plan was to leave the key on the table and go without a second thought. But as you stepped into the room, your breath caught in your throat.

Dean was there.

He stood near the table, his broad shoulders slightly hunched, his posture more tense than usual. His bandaged torso was partially visible beneath his shirt, the edges of the gauze peeking out as a reminder of the injuries you’d patched up just a few nights ago. The sight made your stomach twist, a mix of guilt and something you couldn’t quite name.

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence between you was deafening, charged with the weight of everything left unsaid. You could see the strain in his posture, the way he leaned ever so slightly against the table for support. He looked tired—worn down in a way that went beyond the physical pain.

Dean’s voice broke the silence, rough and low. “Didn’t think I’d see you again”, he said, his tone carrying a mix of bitterness and something softer, something almost vulnerable.

You froze, your grip tightening on the strap of your bag. “I didn’t think anyone was here”, you said softly, your voice barely audible.

Dean let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well. Here I am”..

Dean’s gaze locked on you, his eyes narrowing slightly, a mix of frustration and curiosity flickering behind them. He shifted his weight, leaning more heavily on the table as he crossed his arms. The movement made him wince slightly, but he didn’t seem to care—or maybe he didn’t want you to notice.

“So”, he started, his voice low and sharp, the bitterness cutting through the heavy silence. “Why’d you break up with Sammy?”.

You blinked, caught off guard by the directness of his question. “I… Dean, I don’t think—”.

“No, no”, he interrupted, holding up a hand, his tone edging toward sarcasm. “Don’t pull that. You walk in here, grab your stuff, act like everything’s fine, but you break it off with Sam just hours after telling me he’s the ‘smarter choice’”. His lips curled into a faint, humorless smirk. “Care to explain how that works?”.

Your stomach twisted, guilt and frustration bubbling to the surface as you looked away, unable to hold his gaze. “It’s complicated”, you said quietly, your voice faltering.

“Complicated”, Dean repeated, his voice dripping with disbelief. “You told me he was the right call, shoved it in my face like I was some… mistake you didn’t want to make, and then you dumped him. That doesn’t sound complicated—it sounds like bullshit”.

You flinched at his words, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag as you tried to keep your composure. “It wasn’t like that”, you said, your voice trembling slightly. “I didn’t mean to hurt either of you”.

Dean let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Well, congrats, sweetheart. Mission failed”.

The sharpness of his tone stung, but what hurt more was the look in his eyes—raw and wounded, like he was holding himself together by a thread. “I broke up with Sam because it wasn’t fair to him”, you said, your voice firmer now as you met his gaze. “I realized I couldn’t be what he needed”.

“And what about me?”, Dean shot back, his voice rising slightly. “You couldn’t even look me in the eye when you told me he was the ‘smarter choice’. Was that for my benefit? To make sure I knew I wasn’t good enough?”.

“That’s not what I meant”, you said quickly, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “I was trying to protect—”.

“Protect who?”, Dean interrupted, his jaw tightening. “Me? Sam? Or yourself?”.

The question hung in the air, heavy and damning, and you felt your chest tighten as you struggled to find an answer. The truth was, you didn’t know anymore. You’d convinced yourself you were doing the right thing, but now, standing here in front of Dean, everything felt like it was unraveling.

Your voice trembled as you finally whispered the truth, the words you’d been holding back for too long. “I didn’t want to break you and Sam apart”.

Dean froze, his jaw clenching as your words sank in. He stared at you, his eyes searching your face, his emotions flashing like a storm—anger, frustration, surprise, and something softer, something he wasn’t ready to name.

“Break us apart?”, he repeated, his voice quieter now, the sharp edge fading just slightly. “That’s what you thought this was about?”.

You looked down, unable to hold his gaze. “What else could it be about, Dean?”, you said softly. “You and Sam… You’ve been through everything together. The last thing I wanted was to come between you. I thought it would be best if none of you wanted me anymore”.

Dean let out a shaky exhale. He didn’t say anything at first, and the silence was deafening.

Finally, he turned back, his expression unreadable. “You really think me and Sammy would let this—”, he gestured vaguely between you and himself, his voice faltering—“tear us apart?”.

You blinked, startled by the sudden vulnerability in his tone. “Wouldn’t it?”, you asked, your voice barely audible.

Dean shook his head, letting out a humorless laugh as he leaned back against the table, his arms crossed over his chest. “You don’t get it, do you?”, he said, his voice rough but steadier now. “Me and Sam—we’ve been through hell. Literally. You think something like this would be enough to break us?”.

You didn’t know how to respond. The way he said it—so certain, so resolute—made your chest ache.

Dean’s eyes softened, though the frustration in his voice remained. “I’m not saying it wouldn’t have been messy. Hell, it already is. But you’re wrong if you think Sam and I can’t handle this”.

He let out another laugh, quieter this time, as he dropped his gaze to the floor. “You know what’s funny? I didn’t even realize how close I was to crossing that line. Taking something I had no right to take. And you’re standing here acting like it’s all on you”.

Dean’s eyes locked on yours again, sharp and unrelenting, but your quiet words cut through the space between you.

“Cheating on your boyfriend with his big brother? It’s not my style”, you whispered, your voice trembling but firm. “Breaking up with my boyfriend to be with his brother either”.

Dean flinched at your words, his jaw tightening as if they physically hit him, but he didn’t interrupt. He just stood there, his hands gripping the edge of the table, his knuckles white as he listened.

“So just leaving seems like the best option, doesn’t it?”, you mumbled, your eyes dropping to the floor. You hugged your arms around yourself, trying to protect against the vulnerability that came with speaking the truth. “Clean break, no mess, no… fallout”.

Dean’s laugh was bitter, a sharp contrast to the rawness in your tone. “Yeah, that’s a hell of a plan”, he said, his voice rough and biting. “Except it’s a little late for no fallout, don’t you think?”.

You winced, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen”, you said softly, looking up at him again. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone”.

Dean shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “You didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did”, he said, his voice quieter now, though no less intense. “And now you’re running. Because what? You’re scared? You think this is the only way to fix it?”.

You stared at him, your breath hitching as his words hit closer to home than you wanted to admit. “What else am I supposed to do, Dean?”, you asked, your voice breaking slightly. “Tell me. What’s the right answer here?”.

Dean’s gaze softened, the frustration in his expression fading as he exhaled deeply. He took a step closer, his eyes searching yours, and for a moment, the intensity between you was almost unbearable.

“I don’t know”, he admitted, his voice low and raw. “But I know this? You leaving? Acting like this didn’t happen? That’s not the answer. It’s just you running from it”.

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning, and for the first time, you saw the depth of his own struggle. Dean wasn’t just angry or hurt—he was just as lost as you were, and maybe even more afraid of what came next.

But what could you do? The path forward still felt impossible, no matter how much you wanted to believe otherwise. You looked away, biting your lip as you tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

Dean’s voice dropped lower, rough with frustration and something that felt dangerously close to desperation. “Look at me”, he demanded, his tone steady but insistent. “Tell me you don’t want this”.

You couldn’t. Your throat tightened as your chest ached with guilt and shame. You shook your head, refusing to meet his gaze. Your eyes were glassy, tears threatening to spill as you clutched your arms around yourself, like holding on to something solid might keep you from breaking apart completely.

“Y/N”, Dean said again, his voice harder this time, the edge in it cutting through the air like a blade. “Look at me”.

But you couldn’t. You shook your head again, a tear slipping down your cheek as you quickly brushed it away with trembling fingers. “Don’t”, you whispered, your voice breaking. “Please don’t”.

Dean’s jaw clenched, his frustration palpable, but he didn’t step back. Instead, he closed the distance between you, his presence overwhelming. He stood just inches away, his eyes boring into you as he tried to force you to meet his gaze.

“I need to hear you say it”, he said, his tone quieter now, but no less intense. “Say you don’t want this. Don´t want me. Say it so I can walk away”.

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest as the tears continued to fall. “I can’t”, you admitted, your voice trembling, barely above a whisper. “I can’t say it”.

Dean’s breath hitched, his shoulders sagging slightly as your words hung in the air. He reached out as if to touch you, but stopped himself, his hand falling back to his side. “Then why?”, he asked, his voice raw, breaking. “Why are you doing this to yourself? To me?”.

Your hands covered your face as a sob escaped you, your emotions spilling over. “Because it’s wrong”, you cried, your voice muffled and shaky. “Because I shouldn’t feel this way. I shouldn’t have let it happen”.

Dean took a step closer, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “You think I wanted this?”, he asked, his tone heavy with his own guilt. “You think I woke up one day and decided to fall for my brother’s girl?”.

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, raw and unfiltered, and they only made the ache in your chest worse. You let out a shaky breath, your hands falling from your face as you forced yourself to meet his gaze. The pain in his eyes was almost unbearable, a reflection of everything you were feeling but couldn’t bring yourself to say.

“Dean”, you whispered, your voice trembling, “I don’t know what to do”.

Dean shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips as he let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, join the club”, he said, his voice rough but quiet. “You think I’ve got this figured out? I’ve been trying like hell to stay away from you, to do the right thing. But every time I see you, every time you walk in the room… it’s like I can’t breathe”.

Your heart broke at his confession, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through all the defenses you’d built up. “I never wanted to hurt you”, you said, the tears streaming down your face freely now. “Or Sam. I just… I didn’t mean for this to happen”.

Dean stepped closer, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare. “Neither did I”, he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it did. And now we’re here”.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and charged, every second feeling like an eternity. Dean’s jaw tightened, his emotions warring visibly on his face, before he finally reached out. His rough, calloused fingers slid under your chin, tilting your face up toward his with a gentle but firm insistence.

“Look at me”, he demanded again, his voice low and rough, the edge of frustration tempered by something softer—something desperate.

You hesitated, the tears still clinging to your lashes, but you couldn’t resist. Slowly, you let your eyes meet his, and the intensity in his green gaze nearly stole the breath from your lungs. He was so close now, the heat of him radiating into the space between you. If he wasn’t so much taller, his breath would’ve mingled with yours, but the height difference only made him feel more overwhelming, more commanding.

“Do you feel this?”, he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, raw and unsteady. His thumb brushed against your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine. “Tell me I’m crazy. Tell me I’m the only one losing my mind here”.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You wanted to deny it, to push him away for his own sake—for your own—but the truth was right there, plain and undeniable, written in the way your body leaned ever so slightly toward his, drawn to him like a magnet.

“Dean…”, you whispered, your voice trembling as you tried to find something, anything, to say.

“No”, he cut you off, his tone rough but laced with something pleading. His hand stayed firm on your chin, holding your gaze captive. “No excuses. No running. Just… tell me. Do you feel it?”.

Your chest heaved with the weight of your emotions, your tears spilling over as you nodded, the motion small but enough to shatter whatever resolve was left in him. “Yes”, you whispered, the word barely audible.

Dean exhaled sharply, his eyes closing briefly as if the confession had hit him like a physical blow. When he opened them again, they were darker, more intense. His other hand came up to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear.

Dean’s eyes darkened, his gaze flicking to your lips for the briefest moment before he moved. His hands, strong and calloused, gripped your waist suddenly, completely enveloping you as if you weighed nothing. With an effortless motion, he lifted you off your feet and placed you on the edge of the table, the thud of your bag hitting the ground echoing faintly in the background.

You barely had a second to react before his lips crashed onto yours.

The kiss was anything but gentle—it was desperate, heated, full of all the tension and longing that had been building for so long. Dean’s hands stayed firmly on your waist, his fingers digging in slightly, grounding both of you in the moment. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that left you breathless, stealing every coherent thought from your mind.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, clutching the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer, feeling the solid warmth of his body against yours. Dean groaned softly, the sound vibrating through you as his hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing against your ribs in a way that made your pulse race even faster.

Your body moved instinctively, your legs wrapping around Dean’s waist as if to pull him even closer. The movement brought you flush against him, and the unmistakable hardness pressing against your core sent a shockwave through you.

Dean froze for a moment, his breath hitching against your lips as his grip on your waist tightened. Then a deep, guttural groan rumbled from his chest, the sound reverberating into your mouth as he kissed you harder, his restraint crumbling under the weight of his desire.

Dean’s hands trembled slightly as they moved up your sides, and with one swift motion, he tugged your shirt upward. His lips left yours just long enough to pull it over your head, tossing it to the floor without a second thought. When his eyes returned to you, they darkened, his gaze lingering on your bare chest.

“Damn it”, he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, filled with awe and hunger as he drank in the sight of you. “You really don’t believe in wearing a damn bra, do you?”.

Your cheeks flushed, heat creeping up your neck at his words, but before you could respond, Dean’s hands were on you again. With one swift motion, he lifted you from the table, pulling you against him as if you weighed nothing. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist again, and you grabbed onto his shoulders for support, your fingers brushing over the bandages on his back.

Dean let out a quiet grunt, his jaw tightening as he tried not to wince. “Careful”, he muttered, though there was no real irritation in his voice—just a reminder of the wounds he carried.

“Sorry”, you murmured, your voice soft and breathless as your hands adjusted their grip, trying to avoid pressing into his injuries. But the way his chest was pressed against yours, the heat of his body seeping into you, made your heart race uncontrollably.

Dean’s lips brushed against your ear, his breath warm as he whispered, “Don’t apologize. Just hold on”.

Dean moved with purpose, his hands firm but careful as he guided you back, laying you gently onto his bed. The mattress dipped under your weight, and you felt the coolness of the sheets against your heated skin as your chest heaved, matching his labored breaths.

His hazel eyes locked onto yours for a moment, his expression dark and filled with unspoken promises. Then his gaze dropped lower, drinking in the sight of you, every inch of your body laid out for him. His hands slid down your sides, hooking into the waistband of your jeans. With a deliberate slowness that made your breath hitch, he began tugging them down, taking your panties with them in one smooth motion.

The room felt impossibly still as Dean straightened slightly, his eyes falling to the exposed skin between your thighs. He exhaled sharply, his jaw clenching as his hands tightened slightly on your hips.

The weight of his eyes, the heat radiating from his body, only made the ache between your thighs grow stronger. Every second of the last few months—every glance, every teasing smirk, every low, rumbling word from his lips—flashed through your mind, amplifying the raw, electric need coursing through you.

You had spent so long denying yourself this, so long pretending the tension between you didn’t exist, and now, with Dean’s hands on your skin and his body so close, it felt like the dam had finally broken. Your body trembled under his touch, every nerve alight with anticipation.

Dean let out a low groan, the sound deep and primal, as he slid his hands down to your thighs, his fingers tracing the soft skin there with an almost reverent care. “You’re soaked”, he muttered, his voice rough and thick with desire. “I haven’t even started, and you’re already—”. He cut himself off, shaking his head slightly as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Your cheeks flushed, but the heat in his voice sent another wave of arousal through you, making you gasp softly. “Dean”, you whispered, your voice trembling as you reached out, your fingers brushing against his forearm. “Please”.

The single word seemed to snap something in him. His hands tightened on your thighs, spreading them slightly as he leaned down, his breath ghosting over your skin. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me”, he murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “Every time I looked at you, every time I heard your voice… I wanted this. Wanted you”.

You shivered beneath him, your heart racing as his words sank in, the truth in them only fueling the fire in your core. “Then take me”, you whispered, your voice breaking with need. “Please, Dean”.

Dean didn’t hesitate for a second. His green eyes flicked up to meet yours, and as he held your gaze, a slow, predatory smirk spread across his lips. The intensity in his eyes was magnetic, and you couldn’t look away, even as your cheeks flushed and your breath hitched in anticipation.

He licked his lips, his hands sliding further up your thighs as he spread your legs wide for him. The cool air hit your heated skin, making you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from him as he lowered himself between your legs. The rough scruff of his jaw brushed against your inner thigh, sending a ripple of sensation through you, and then his mouth was on you.

Dean’s tongue pressed flat against your slit, but he didn’t move. He held you there, his eyes locked on yours, his grip on your thighs firm and grounding. The look on his face—like he was savoring you, consuming every part of this moment—was the most intoxicating thing you’d ever seen. You gasped softly, your hips instinctively arching toward him, but his hands tightened, holding you in place.

“Stay still”, he murmured against you, the vibration of his voice sending a shockwave through your core. His lips curled into a smirk as he inhaled deeply, his nose brushing against your sensitive skin. “You smell so fucking good”.

Your hands gripped the sheets beneath you as his tongue finally began to move, slow and deliberate. He traced a line from your entrance to your clit, his movements precise and teasing, like he was testing how far he could push you before you fell apart. When his tongue finally circled your clit, your back arched involuntarily, a broken moan escaping your lips.

Dean groaned in response, the sound low and guttural, vibrating against you. His eyes never left yours, the connection between you so raw, so electric, it left you breathless. He worked you with a confidence that was almost maddening, his tongue and lips exploring every inch of you, coaxing sounds from you that you didn’t even know you were capable of making.

“You’re so damn sweet”, he muttered, his voice thick with desire as he kissed your swollen clit. “I could stay here all night”.

You were a shivering, moaning mess under Dean’s relentless attention, every flick of his tongue and press of his lips sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. Your fingers tangled in the sheets, your back arching as his mouth worked you over with an intensity that left you breathless. Each sound you made only seemed to spur him on more, his groans of approval vibrating against your sensitive skin.

Dean lapped at your juices like a man starved, his tongue dragging along your folds before circling your clit again and again. His grip on your thighs was firm, his fingers digging in almost painfully as he held you open for him. The contrast between the pressure of his hands and the soft, wet heat of his mouth only heightened your arousal, making you cry out louder.

He pulled back for the briefest moment, his lips glistening as he looked up at you, his green eyes dark with lust. But then his mouth was on you again, his tongue plunging into your entrance, and all coherent thought disappeared.

Your hips bucked against his face, and he groaned against you. His hands tightened their grip on your thighs, holding you firmly in place as he devoured you, his tongue and lips working together to bring you closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck”, he growled against you, his breath hot as he pulled back just long enough to kiss your inner thigh, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect”.

His words, his touch, his voice—all of it overwhelmed you, your body trembling uncontrollably as the coil in your stomach tightened. You were close, so close, and he knew it. Dean’s mouth returned to your clit, his tongue circling with a deliberate precision that had you crying out his name, your hands reaching down to grip his hair as your body begged for release.

He knew exactly what he was doing, reading your every gasp, moan, and twitch like a map leading him to exactly where you needed him to be. His lips sealed around your clit, and he sucked gently before flicking his tongue against it again, the sensation so intense that it sent shudders racing up your spine.

“Dean—”, you choked out, your voice trembling, your body straining as the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core.

“That’s it”, he muttered against you, his breath hot and ragged as he spoke between licks. “Let go for me, sweetheart. I’ve got you”.

His words, low and commanding, tipped you over the edge. The coil in your stomach snapped, and pleasure exploded through you, a tidal wave of sensation so intense it left you shaking. Your back arched off the bed as a loud, broken moan tore from your throat, your entire body trembling uncontrollably as you came harder than you ever had before.

Dean didn’t let up, his tongue continuing to work you through your climax, slower now but still firm and deliberate, drawing out every last wave of pleasure. His hands held your thighs steady, even as they quivered under his grip, his strength grounding you in the overwhelming intensity of the moment.

Your vision blurred, stars dancing behind your eyelids as you gasped for breath, your body completely at his mercy. Dean finally slowed, his lips placing soft, lingering kisses along your inner thighs as your trembling began to subside.

When you opened your eyes, he was watching you, his gaze filled with a mix of satisfaction and hunger as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “That”, he murmured, his voice low and rough, “was the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen”.

You couldn’t respond, still catching your breath as the aftershocks of your orgasm rippled through you. Your heart raced as he leaned up, his face hovering just above yours, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss that tasted and smelled so much like you.

Dean’s lips moved against yours with an urgency that matched the heat coursing through your veins. As his tongue traced the seam of your lips, his hands worked quickly, tugging at his shirt. He broke the kiss only long enough to yank it over his head, revealing the bruises and bandages that covered his torso—the work you had meticulously done just a few days ago.

Your eyes roamed over him, the rough edges of his body, the scars, the muscles. He was raw and unpolished, but it only made him more captivating. Dean caught the way you looked at him, a flicker of a smirk crossing his lips even as his breathing remained heavy.

“Gotta be a bit easy on me, sweetheart”, he murmured against your neck, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. His lips pressed gently along the curve of your throat, a soft contrast to the heat building between you. Even as he spoke, his hips pressed closer, guiding his hard, swollen length against your slick folds.

The sound of him groaning softly into your ear as his tip slipped through your wetness made your mind spiral into mush. He moved slowly, deliberately, dragging his cock up and down through your folds, the friction making you gasp. Your body trembled at the sensation, your hips instinctively tilting up to meet him.

Your breath hitched as he teased your entrance, the tip of his cock sliding just far enough to stretch you before slipping away again. He was toying with you, building the tension back up even though you were still coming down from the high of your climax.

“Dean”, you gasped, your voice breathy and desperate as you clutched at his shoulders. Your fingers grazed the bandages, but he didn’t flinch, too focused on the feel of you beneath him.

He chuckled softly, his voice low and gravelly as he tilted his head to capture your lips again. “Patience, sweetheart”, he murmured, though the strain in his voice betrayed just how close he was to losing control. “Just wan´t to feel you for a sec. Don’t want to rush this”.

But you couldn’t wait. Your body was already on fire, your thighs trembling as you shifted beneath him, trying to get more of him where you needed him most. Your breath was labored, and all you could do was nod, your brain too foggy to form coherent words.

Dean’s lips curved into a small smile against your neck as he finally lined himself up, the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance with just enough pressure to make you whimper.

Dean’s brow furrowed as he felt you shift beneath him, your hips tilting up just enough to make his tip sink barely an inch deeper into your slick, inviting heat. The sensation pulled a low, guttural groan from him, his jaw clenching as he gripped your hips tighter.

“Nah-uh”, he murmured, his voice a strained mix of authority and desire. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, as he tried to regain control. “You keep that up, and this is gonna be over before it even starts”.

Your breath hitched, the rasp in his voice and the weight of his gaze making your heart race. Another soft whimper escaped you, and you felt his cock twitch against your entrance, thick and hot, teasing but not yet giving you what you so desperately needed.

“Dean, please”, you whispered, your voice trembling with need. Your hands slid up his shoulders, brushing against the bandages as your fingers curled into his hair. “I need—”.

“I know”, he cut you off, his voice low and gravelly, but his movements didn’t change. His hips rocked forward just slightly, his tip slipping through your wetness but stopping before he pushed inside. “Trust me, I know”.

The tension in his body was palpable, every muscle coiled tight as he tried to hold himself back. You could see it in the way his arms trembled slightly, in the sharp exhale through his nose as he fought against the overwhelming urge to take you fully.

“You feel so damn good”, he muttered, his lips brushing against your ear as he pressed a kiss to your neck, his stubble grazing your skin. “Better than I ever let myself imagine”.

You gasped softly, your body arching into his as the heat between you grew unbearable. Your legs tightened around his waist, pulling him closer, and this time, his restraint faltered. He pushed forward, the thick head of his cock slipping past your entrance, stretching you just enough to make you cry out softly.

Dean stilled, his breath ragged. “That okay?”, he asked, his voice softer now, though his need was still evident in every strained word.

You nodded quickly, your hands clutching at his shoulders. “Yes”, you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation. “Don’t stop”.

His jaw tightened, his gaze burning into yours as he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss. Slowly, carefully, he pushed deeper, each inch sending a wave of pleasure through your body until he was fully seated inside you, his hips flush against yours.

The stretch was overwhelming, but the way he filled you was perfect, the heat of him grounding you as you both struggled to catch your breath. Dean’s forehead dropped to yours, his hand sliding up to cradle the side of your face as he held himself still, giving you a moment to adjust.

“Fuck Baby”, he muttered, his voice rough and filled with awe. “You’re gonna ruin me”.

Dean froze at your whispered words, his breath hitching as your confession sliced through the haze of pleasure. “You already ruined me”. The vulnerability in your voice, so quiet yet so raw, hit him like a punch to the chest.

He stared at you for a beat, his eyes dark with emotion. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your flushed skin as though trying to memorize the moment. Then, without a word, he lowered his head to your neck, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below your jaw. He kissed you there, slow and deliberate.

The next second, Dean pulled out completely, the sudden emptiness making you gasp. But before you could even form a protest, he thrust back into you in one deep, powerful motion. The force of it sent your body sliding up the bed slightly, your head pressing against the headboard as a cry tore from your lips.

“Dean!”, you moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as pleasure surged through you.

“That’s it”, Dean groaned against your neck, his voice deep and guttural, the sound vibrating through your skin. “Say my name like that again”.

He pulled back and slammed into you again, his movements deliberate and intense, each thrust sending you higher. Your legs tightened around his waist, your body arching to meet him as the bed creaked beneath the rhythm he set. Every movement, every press of his hips against yours, hit a spot so deep inside you that you couldn’t hold back the cries and whimpers spilling from your lips.

“You feel so good”, Dean muttered, his lips dragging along your neck before capturing your earlobe between his teeth. “So damn tight—like you were made for me”.

His words sent another wave of heat crashing over you, your nails raking down his back as your head tilted back, exposing more of your neck to him. Dean took full advantage, his lips and tongue trailing along your skin as his hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he drove into you with relentless precision.

Dean didn’t care about the searing pain in his back or the sting of his wounds reopening. None of it mattered. The only thing he cared about was you—your body arching beneath him, your breathless cries filling the room, and the way his name spilled from your lips.

“Dean”, you gasped, your voice breaking as his thrusts became deeper, harder, each one hitting a spot that made your vision blur. Your nails scraped against his shoulders, your legs trembling as they tightened around his waist, desperate to pull him even closer.

“That’s it”, Dean growled, his voice rough and low, thick with desire. “Say it again. Let me hear you”.

He angled his hips, driving into you with a precision that made your entire body quake. The rhythm was relentless, each thrust sending a shockwave of pleasure through you so intense that you didn’t know whether you were sobbing or moaning. Your chest heaved, the air leaving your lungs in shallow gasps as your hands clung to him for dear life.

“Dean!”, you cried out again, your voice raw with need, and the sound spurred him on even more. His hands gripped your hips tighter, almost bruising, as he pulled you against him with every thrust, as if he wanted to make sure you felt every inch of him, every ounce of his strength.

“Shit”, he muttered, his breath hot against your ear as he dipped his head to press open-mouthed kisses along your neck. “You’re perfect. Fucking perfect”. His voice broke slightly, the strain in it revealing just how much he was holding back. “You’re mine, sweetheart. Mine”.

Your body arched beneath him at his words, the possessiveness in his tone sending a fresh wave of heat through you. You didn’t fight it, couldn’t even think of denying it. Every thrust, every touch, every look in his eyes told you this was where you belonged.

“Dean”, you sobbed, your voice trembling as the coil in your stomach tightened to an unbearable degree. “I—I can’t—”.

“Yes, you can”, he growled, his lips brushing against yours as his pace quickened, his movements more erratic now, driven by pure instinct.

Dean’s lips brushed against your ear, his breath hot and heavy as his voice dropped into a commanding growl. “Come for me”, he ordered, his tone low and rough, each word sending a shiver through your entire body. “Now”.

The intensity in his voice, the raw power of his demand, pushed you over the edge. The coil in your core snapped violently, sending a wave of pleasure crashing over you so overwhelming that your entire body trembled. A broken cry tore from your throat, your voice raw and hoarse as his name spilled from your lips again and again.

“Dean!”, you sobbed, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body arched against him. The world blurred, every nerve alight as the waves of your orgasm surged through you, leaving you completely at his mercy. Your thighs clenched around his waist, your hips bucking as he continued to thrust into you, each movement prolonging your climax until you felt like you might shatter.

Dean groaned deeply, his grip on your hips tightening as he watched you fall apart beneath him. “That’s my girl”, he muttered, his voice filled with awe and satisfaction.

His words only made the pleasure burn hotter, the aftershocks rippling through you as you struggled to catch your breath.

Dean’s movements slowed, his thrusts becoming deeper, more deliberate, as his breathing grew heavier and more ragged. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes locked on you as his grip on your hips tightened. His body trembled above you, the tension coiling in him evident in every line of his frame.

“You’re so fucking beautiful”, he groaned, his voice low and strained, filled with awe and raw need.

And then you felt it—Dean’s body stiffening as he let out a guttural moan, his hips pressing flush against yours. He spilled deep inside you, the warmth of him filling you completely, and the sensation made your breath hitch. His name fell from your lips in a whisper, the intimacy of the moment making your chest ache.

Dean’s hands slid up your sides, his touch softer now as he tried to steady himself. His lips brushed against your temple, the gentleness of the gesture a stark contrast to the passion that had just consumed you both. His forehead rested against yours again as his breathing slowed, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The only sounds were your mingled breaths, the quiet hum of the bunker around you, and the steady thrum of your heartbeat in your ears. Dean stayed close, his arms wrapping around you as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

Your hands slid up to his back, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles as you held him close, your body still trembling slightly from the aftermath of everything you’d just shared. You didn’t say anything—words felt unnecessary in the face of the connection between you, raw and undeniable.

Dean finally pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours as if he was trying to commit every detail of your face to memory. His thumb brushed against your cheek, a small, tender smile tugging at his lips.

And in that moment, it was as if nothing else in the world mattered but the two of you.

But the peaceful silence was shattered by the sound of Sam’s voice echoing through the bunker, calling your name.

“Y/N?”, he shouted, his voice closer than either of you expected. “What’s going on? Why’s your stuff out here?”.

Your eyes widened in panic, the sound jolting you out of the intimacy of the moment. Dean was still buried inside you, his warmth and the evidence of what had just happened making your cheeks flush. You opened your mouth to say something, but Dean’s hand quickly covered it, his green eyes locked on yours as he motioned with his other hand for you to keep quiet.

“Shh”, he mouthed, his lips curving into the faintest, almost mischievous grin.

“Dean?”, Sam’s voice came again, closer now, accompanied by the sound of his footsteps. “You seen (Y/N)?”.

Dean groaned softly, his head tilting back as if the interruption had physically pained him. He pulled his hand away from your mouth, gave you a look that practically begged for your cooperation, and then called out, “I’m in the middle of something, Sammy! Can it wait?”.

You stared at him, your eyes wide with disbelief as he casually spoke while still inside you, his body pressed flush against yours. He caught your look and winked, his smirk growing as he shifted his hips ever so slightly, drawing a sharp gasp from you that you barely managed to stifle.

Sam hesitated, clearly trying to process the situation. “In the middle of what?”, he asked, his tone suspicious.

Dean groaned again, this time louder, as if he were exasperated. “Come on, man”, he called, his voice carrying a rough, teasing edge. “Let’s just say I’m having a little ‘me time’ and leave it at that”.

The silence that followed was deafening, but after a beat, Sam let out an awkward grunt. “Damn it, Dean. A little warning next time”, he muttered, his footsteps retreating. “I’ll figure it out myself”.

You slapped Dean’s shoulder lightly, your face burning as you tried not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “Seriously?”, you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Dean grinned, leaning down to brush a kiss against your temple. “Worked, didn’t it?”, he murmured, his hands sliding back to your hips as he shifted slightly, reminding you exactly where he still was.

“Dean”, you said, your voice a mix of exasperation and breathless amusement.

His grin widened, and he kissed you again, his lips soft but filled with a mischievous hunger that promised he wasn’t done with you yet. “Now, where were we?”, he asked, his voice dropping to that gravelly tone that made your breath hitch all over again.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

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[hajihiko]

hi. i’ve seen from your art you liked akane!! (i think?) and wanted to ask if you have any headcanons 4 her :)

sure! I feel like I did one before...? But idr

also yknow warning for headcanon stuff. And it's sad. And it's Akane's fucked up backstory (that means hints to child sexual abuse)

My favorite thing is 'gymnast that always lands on her feet' hehe. She's the most resourceful, resilient person out of everyone, and I genuinely have a hard time thinking of how Junko got to her in the first place.

Her 'instincts' are actually hyper-intelligence when it comes to reading people and the environment. She doesn't know she's doing it, but she's always alert, and can tell when something tiny has changed or someone is acting just a bit off. She honed this skill trying to navigate her disaster life from age Way Too Young.

She seems ditsy because anything that isn't really life threatening just isn't that important and she doesn't bother with it. Again, because her life has been real rough.

She's super casual about nudity (this is canon) and spreads it to her classmates. Once you're used to her absolutely killer body in the nude in a totally casual nonsexual way, you just kinda get over it all.

After waking up, she isn't quite as wild and violent and active, and she takes Nidai's advice to work on her inner self too. Yoga, meditation, that kind of thing*

She loves dancing!

Any kind of physical activity, really. Hopscotch? Aces it. Jump-rope? Aces it. Surfing? Well she gets distracted and falls off a lot but she loves it anyway!

She enjoys sex but doesn't like, crave it. It's a sort of exercise that feels good, like yoga or Nidai's massages. She doesn't really see why it's such a huge deal to some people.

That said she's definitely picky about who she does it with. Don't make it weird, dude.

If you're gonna be weird about it, you don't have a chance, because she can tell.

Also if you're a man you have like a 10% chance. Women... may try

Sex is completely divorced from romance to her, though.

She thought the plan-B pill was like a tylenol. Everyone does it when the occasion calls for it, right? It's whatever, right?

Non-Despair AU, she doesn't really drink alcohol except very occasionally. You can count on her to let you crash at her place, no problem.

She actually has a sort of open door policy. One, because she is unfortunately used to having no privacy. Two, she is used to letting ppl stay if they need it- she'd rather sleep in the bathtub than let anyone sleep on the street. Three, she can kick anyone's ass, *try* and do anything untowards.... cmom try :)

Post-wakeup, one of her worst moments is when she realizes she just no longer likes food :( her body rejects it too hard and nothing tastes the same. She eventually develops a much different taste, but at least she can enjoy it sometimes.

Loves eating with nothing but her hands. Food tastes the most pure that way, no metallic taste or wood texture to interrupt her. Teruteru takes this to heart and starts planning his dishes with utensils in mind, too.

If she does a blind taste (or smell, or touch) test, she fucking kills it every time.

She can tell when Junko is around because of Junkos incredibly threatening presence.

i guess the only reason Junko got to Akane is because Junko was slightly better at manipulation and hiding herself. Akane has never forgotten and therefore Junkos presence is a permanent concern in Akanes psyche. Akane won't be fooled again.

Akane and Nekomaru never actually have a talk about their relationship or whatever. Akane just loves being around him, and feels safe, and they infect each other's mood, etc. He has never set off any of her alarm bells, so she trusts him with her whole self.

Fuyuhiko reminds her of one of her brothers, who was younger than her but not by much, and always tried to take care of her. Trying so hard to be the man he thinks he should be. Younger brother vibe.

Sonia reminds her of the pretty ladies in books, movies and ads. So put together and bright...blush. But she could stand to be more honest, and smile more genuinely.

Kaz reminds her of a girl (HMM) who wasn't quite family, but stayed with the Owari household for a while because of complications. Equals sort of?

Hajime is.... someone Akane is always on the brink of challenging or going up against, like something in her just wants to maul him. Not in a bad way tho (probably)! but he feels like a real challenge. But, of way more prevalence, she wants to be around him and work with him, and loves his presence. She's incredibly glad they ended up as friends instead. (Thats a reference to her being the villain in the drafts!)

Akane really likes being tucked in. She did it for her family all the time, but no one ever did it for her until post-wakeup.

She never actually comes to terms with all her abuse fully. Like she gets it, she knows objectively it was wrong, she has the right idea.... but there is just. Too much. She lives a good life and she functions great but she just doesn't revisit or confront those corners of her mind. People might think that's not right, but she has autonomy over herself and good luck trying to force her into it.

Some things just don't get resolved or accepted. Sometimes bad things just happen and you keep living. She's definitely not the only one who puts something unresolved behind her.

She used to be a city girl, but she loves the island and the nature, the close crowd of people and the total freedom. Her life at the end of the 'story' is the best she's ever had it.

*I'm gonna post a picture ok it's nudity it's boobs OK

Her peacefully meditating & connecting to her soul as well as her body :)

i love Nekomaru's line about how like..... idr like she's super strong but needs to work on herself spiritually too. I think it's nice that he considers her spirit as well as her body. Once she reaches Peace she's practically unstoppable

[thestarfishface]

Hello my friends I have been tired and stressed bc of work and moving and my computer exploding, and therefore have not drawn for funsies in a few weeks. I am attempting to remedy this. Behold: Thursday game doodles.

Context:

Pic 1: Parallels between Verity's old and current party, now that the squad is all together! Mira and Barbfin, Ani and Darius, Veil and Willow, and then Verity and Rodin being Awkward off to the side

Pic 2: Soooooo Verity and Rodin had a bit of a fight in the most recent session, that may or may not have ended with Verity literally destroying his paladin's oath with a hammer.

He's been a vengeance paladin since she died, and swore to kill the BBEG (who was responsible for her death and fucked over the old party and did a bunch of other Bad Shit), and in a recent session lured him (and his entire army) out so he could, and I quote, "Hit him in the face with a hammer".

Verity was v frustrated by this, saying it was reckless and stupid to put his life (and everyone else's) in danger by trying to lure him out with no kind of escape plan or backup (R: "I have my own armies and diplomatic connections and my entire spy network!" V: "Cool, WHERE WERE THEY TODAY???"), and he said he's been following the plan he "carved into stone" 150 years ago when he first took his vengeance oath. Conveniently, said stone was hanging on the wall of the room they were arguing in.

Verity says that plans can change, stone can be broken, and that just bc something is "carved into stone" doesn't mean it has to be permanent- especially since they have the entire old party back now and they have more hope now than they ever did. However, Rodin is stubborn that he's not going to change his entire game plan just bc there's slightly more hope than there was a few months ago- we found out during the same session he's only got a few months left to live, and if he's going to die he's going to take out the BBEG and fulfill his revenge as his final act.

Verity, though, is adamant that, with the combined help of both the old party and her new friends, they can make him young again and get a "second chance" at the adventures they wanted as kids- and grabs one of his blacksmithing hammers. She threatens to break the oath stone, but is hesitant at first bc it's obviously important to him. And then he says:

"Go on, break it then. Or admit that I'm right."

So she uses the hammer and divine smite on the giant slab of granite, carved with both his vengeance paladin oath and his plan to take out the BBEG, shatters it, and says he needs to "write his love on his heart and let THAT be the thing that drives him forward, not some stupid stone".

So Verity is now an oathbreaker but not in the way you'd expect lol.

Expect more doodles on this topic bc it was ONE HELL OF A SCENE and I am very sad we don't stream our Thursday game bc I would commit so many crimes to have a recording of it ;-;

Bonus:

[felixcloud6288]

Things that actually happened throughout the Kingdom Hearts Franchise

Maleficent led a coalition of various Disney villains to conquer the worlds. Sora defeats half of them without ever learning they're working with her.

There was a big mystery about a door that no one knew how to open. 15 real-world years later, we find out it's a push door.

Jack Skellington tried to teach the Heartless to dance and almost succeeded.

There's a giant whale floating through space and it eats Sora's ship at one point.

Ariel knows how to craft magic potions and uses those to help you fight the Heartless.

The Tarzan world got decanonized so hard that there's a canon excuse to why no one mentions or remembers it.

The Olympus Titans have been free for several games but mostly just hung out in the coliseum.

Maleficent may or may not have tried to recruit the Cheshire Cat to her coalition.

Chernabog just appears as a boss and no one ever comments on it to the point that it's not even in the in-game synopsis.

Sora accidentally absorbs Kairi's heart inside his body. Later games reveal Sora has done this with several people.

At one point, there's a faction war within the Big bad's organization. One member of the traitor faction turns out to be actually be a member of the loyalist faction. But then he kills the leader of the loyalist faction because he was actually working for a secret second traitor faction.

When the big bad rebuilds his organization, he re-recruits the leaders from both traitor factions and passes on recruiting anyone from the loyalist faction.

Roxas accidentally completes an entire hero apprenticeship under Phil because Phil never bothered to look at Roxas and confirm he was the new student Hercules had recommended to him.

The underworld in Hercules and Farplain from Final Fantasy X are linked somehow because Hades managed to summon a character who dies in FFX from one of the underworld's prisons.

Ursula comes back from the dead twice with no explanation.

Maleficent once tried to turn Santa Claus into a Heartless. The plan failed because she hated the guy she was working with so much that she just left.

Time travel exists and there are set rules about the requirements to use it, the restrictions on where you can go, and what you can and cannot alter. We learn them several years after the game where Sora used time travel to save Disney Castle and he broke every single rule.

While Sora needed Merlin the Wizard to make a time portal, Pete managed to make one by getting really sad and nostalgic.

Pete got banished to another dimension because he tried to mug Minnie Mouse for artisanal ice cream.

Almost every problem encountered in Birth By Sleep is because Terra kept helping the villains.

Aqua was going to kill Cinderella's step-mother and step-sisters and the Fairy Godmother had to stop her.

Because of Sora's tendency to keep other's hearts inside himself, his body once took on the appearance of another person and gained its own separate personality from both Sora and the person it looked like.

Part of the big bad's plot to obtain Kingdom Hearts involved sending his disembodied soul back in time to give himself the power to travel forward in time.

The big bad's plot also required him to fail to obtain Kingdom Hearts four separate times.

Scar was so evil that when he died, he resurrected as a Heartless that kept his original appearance. Then his ghost continued to haunt the savanna.

The Heartless once tried to steal Winnie the Pooh's storybook.

Sora travels with a clone of Jack Sparrow that is made of the same white crabs that Calypso turns into.

Stitch appears in Hollow Bastion, trips a security system, gives Sora his summon token, fights alongside various Final Fantasy protagonists, and then vanishes from the story.

Sephiroth is the physical manifestation of Cloud's darkness. Despite the implications, Sephiroth is not a Heartless. Tifa meanwhile is implied to be the manifestation of Cloud's light.

Maleficent is killed near the end of KH1. However the mobile game reveals that she actually sent herself back in time. When she comes back to life in KH2, she actually was sent back to the future.

The cursed Aztec treasure from Pirates of the Caribbean turned into a Heartless.

The big bad's organization tried to recruit Sora and Riku. When that failed, they recruited clones of them.

One member of the organization looks like an evil Sora. He is NOT the Sora clone.

Terra fused with a suit of armor out of pure hatred for the big bad.

Your player character in the mobile game dies and is reincarnated as the big bad.

One game introduces monsters called Dream Eaters. It later turns out these monsters are the souls of child soldiers who died in an ancient keyblade war.

At one point, Sora and Riku arrive in the middle of the plot of The World Ends With You.

Goofy knows how to use a computer.

The synopsis journal for KH1 gets erased, becomes sentient, and starts writing cryptic messages inside itself. Mickey decides the best way to figure out what is going on is to make a digital copy of the journal and have a digital copy of Sora fight the corrupted data in the journal.

They did indeed put bugs in Riku.

Feel free to expand on this

[cimmerian1275]

@shaotie hope u dont mind the @ but i instantly got reminded of all your incredibly well-written, leo-angst fics with this idea. Thought youd love to read the angst potential of this one <3

Anyways-

Im gonna ramble about this because like woh, wooohhhh, whuuuhhhhhh... Its gonna rattle around in my brain for days. I love these quietly sad stories.

Ive read some Robot Leo fics and theyve destroyed my feels with their sad or unfinished endings where Donnie's just made a simple AI thats incredibly Leo-like n all. One of em (that was finished) just had a super vague "they act too real to be just an ai but the author never confirmed nor denied" so it was left up to interpretation... and the ending was happy/sad with the ai asking to be "let go/let me rest in peace" kind of thing.

But this??? THIS!? HHHHRRRRRR......

THE POTENTIAL!!! They dont know its possessed by the actual Leo thats slowly just manipulating the AI/taking control more and more overtime?? WHU

His bros wouldnt want to get attached to that thing bc, its just a robot! Just Donnie's way of coping that theyve all reluctantly agreed to... (THEYRE STILL GREIVING) Itd probably be rlly awkward for everyone else having a robot clone of your dead brother/friend/sensei walking around. And he gets more lifelike overtime bc Leo's slowly taking control!? Starts getting eerily more accurate to the real Leo? They begin to notice the mannerisms an AI (even one so advanced) somehow has begun to perfect to an insane degree, says things an AI shouldnt even know/be able to come up with but the real Leo does. Does the voice of the robot slowly get closer and closer to Leo's real voice because of the possession? Instead of recorded sounds and reactions, does it start making unique sounds because of it? (Did donnie program the AI/robot to have his memories??? If not, then itd freak them out if it began recalling/referencing things only Leo and the fam knows about. But thatd probably clue them in an ruin the end goal of the plot tbh... BUT STILL)

And when it starts breaking the coding, and disobeying commands, and trying to hang out with the bros who are just severely disturbed and no where near ready for Donnie's eerily similar robot to interact with them, that seems to be trying to replace Leo? What line did Leo cross for Donnie to destroy the robot...? Did his brothers draw the line or did Donnie? Did Leo approach one of his brothers and try to comfort them but it backfired? Did Raph order Donnie to do it? The robot could remind Raph of that possessed rabbit (yk the one hehe) or Mikey couldnt handle seeing Leo's face on a robot, or Donnie couldnt take something of his going awry again when the AI stopped listening... especially when THIS project means so much to him? Maybe theres a final straw, and all the little things just pile up until someone snaps. But on the other hand theres just Leo's ghost trying to return to his fam, spend time with them. Leo doesnt want to be alone so he spends every moment he can around them. He probably isnt fully aware/there at first either... Does he know hijacking the robot wasnt intentional? Does he think Donnie planned this/made a body for his spirit, or that its an accident. OR, did he see Donnie making a robot and take this as his opportunity to return? Didnt know if itd work because his spirit form was so weak, but took a chance and tried anyway?

Can he control it when its powered off? When its powered off/charging is Leo forced out or does he 'sleep'. Does it even need to be charged? Maybe he doesnt need sleep.

What about that learning curve when he begins to override the AI? Whats that like? He probably feels powerless/like a spectator at first, but when he first finally makes the robot follow one of his commands...? The implications!! If he can control it he can come back instead of just watching like an outsider.

But, the thing is when he breaks the coding/doesnt follow whatever rules it just backfires on him because they dont know its Leo possessing it. Does Leo know they dont know? Probably, pretty quickly. Hes just stuck here trying to live a second life. Maybe he tries to tell them, but everyones in denial, or just think its Donnie's coding gone haywire again and become self aware like Shelldon.

Trying to think about whats going on for Leo when Donnie destroys the robot hes living in... just hurts too much to put into words........ that whole situation D:

Little idea I just had:

After Leo's tragic death, Donnie builds a robot that looks just like Leo (like in all those fanfics). The twist? Leo's actual spirit possesses the robot.

At first, Leo's ghost can't do much. He's weak, and so the robot just follows its intended programming while Leo goes along for the ride. But slowly, as Leo gets used to his new existence, he learns to override the robot's AI, and basically use the robot as a new body. But, there's a problem.

Leo's brothers don't know that the robot is possessed. So when Leo starts to disobey the robot's programming, it causes issues. Donnie barely convinced the family to let him undertake this project, and now, his robot is getting far too invasive, clinging to it's "brothers" even when explicitly commanded not to. Of course, this is just Leo trying to interact with his family after being thrust into the spirit realm. But in everyone else's eyes, it's a weird and creepy robot, with faulty AI that can't understand boundaries.

Finally, Donnie has enough. The robot crosses a line, so Donnie takes it out into a sewer tunnel and destroys it, smashing it into scrap metal. The family is glad to be rid of the thing, which they began to see as a flawed coping mechanism. But Leo's spirit still clings to the robot.

And Leo is terrified. He doesn't understand what happened, or why Donnie would do something like that to him. Leo had been using the robot to live a second life, to speak and move freely, to talk with his family. And once Donnie destroys the robot, that is all ripped from him. Without a vessel to ground him in the mortal world, Leo is forced back into the spirit realm, separated from his brothers all over again, rejected by his family. And in his confusion, Leo gets angry.

Strange little things start to happen in the lair. People get calls that just play static, mystic powers fail more often than usual, Donnie's tech malfunctions. It's weird, but no one minds too much.

Then, one day, Donnie walks into his lab, to see Leo's robot, sitting on the table. It's perfectly repaired, to the extent that no one could even tell it was broken in the first place. It's eyelights are on, and it slowly looks up at Donnie.

"I hate you," It says in a perfect copy of Leo's voice. "I hate you."

And for the first time since his robot was finished, Donnie understands that something is very, very wrong.

[emeraldserenade]

My Idiot ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: you've been in love with your best friend for years, you finally tell him after avoiding him.

tw: fem!reader, childhood best friend!reader, talk over throw up but it never happens, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

I get no spring break at my college 😭. It's ok though because I only go on Monday and Tuesday and don't have work. I hope you enjoy this because Thuesday-Thursday I will probably not be posting since I've got a family thing happening.

➽──────────────❥

You always loved him, you just never told him. Joaquín always seemed to be just out of your reach, always there but never as what you wanted him to be. It got worse when you saw how he was with the hordes of girls that recognized him in the street. He was his charming self, you knew he wasn't flirting with them, but they didn't. You hated feeling this way, you weren't even dating him. He noticed, he always noticed when you weren't yourself.

"Cariño, are you jealous?" He would tease.

"As if, Amor," you would huff, adding emphasis to the pet name just to watch his cheeks tint pink.

It wasn't uncommon for you two to fake flirt, or at least fake on his end. It was how you always were, joking about going in for a kiss only for the person who initiated it to swerve away. How touchy you two were, his arm always securely around you or his hand holding yours.

"Watch out, Joaquín might get jealous," your friends would tease through high school and up until now, if you so much as looked at a man with an interested look.

"You're so funny," you would jab back, always going to at least introduce yourself to the man. If not for a relationship, at least a small reprieve from thinking about Joaquín.

It never went far, they would always lose interest or somehow convince themselves that you were Falcon's girlfriend. It's how you found yourself wrapped in a blanket on your couch watching a movie instead of out in the bar with Joaquín and your friends. You were trying to distance yourself from him, it was easy when you first decided to. He was leaving for a mission so you said goodbye to him, he promised he would call you when he got back but you never answered. It had been days and you knew the bar was Joaquín and your friends' way to try and get you to talk to him again.

"Angel, are you in here?" Joaquín's voice made you jump slightly, you could hear his shoes thud down next to yours and his keys jingle as he threw them in the bowl. You didn't answer, not knowing if you even wanted to see him. You had walls built, that was the plan. Build walls until it didn't make your heart stutter or your stomach flutter when you saw him. "Angel, why didn't you come?" Joaquín was in front of you, your heart clenched at the sight of him.

Your walls crumbled when you saw him, he looked sad. He had a reason to be upset, you had agreed to go out until you realized he was going to be there. You had ignored everyone about the bar since then.

"I'm not feeling well," you lied, the fact that you had yet to eat probably helped your case.

"You could have called me, I would have helped you," Joaquín stood up and you shook your head.

"It's fine, nothing serious," you were trying to think of a way to get him to leave. Your first thought was to fake throw up, but Joaquín would just hold your hair for you and then he would know you were lying.

"Angel? Did you hear me?" Joaquín asked and you shook yourself out of thought.

"Huh?"

"I asked if you were hungry?" Joaquín gave you a smile and you frowned at the way your stomach fluttered.

"No, not really. I had a late lunch," you told him, you weren't lying this time.

"I'll make you something anyway, so when you are hungry you can eat," Joaquín walked into your kitchen and you took the time to sigh.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Joaquín sat across from you as you slowly ate, his eyebrows were furrowed. You didn't have courage to look up at him, your eyes trained on the table. You could feel the look he was giving you, last time you were sick you were stuck to his side and won't stop staring at him.

"Angel, are sure you're ok?" Joaquín broke the tense silence.

"Yeah, just tired," you replied, standing up to place your dishes in the sink. Joaquín followed you and when you turned around you found yourself trapped between him and the sink. You could reasonably squeeze around him but you were frozen in shock.

"Angel, I want to believe you about you being sick. I do, but you're making it hard to believe. What's going on? Did I do something?" Joaquín asked and you panicked a little.

"I," you cut yourself off and went around him, ready to run. "I like you, I like you more than I should. I think I'm actually in love with you," you blurted out before dashing from the kitchen to your room and into the bathroom. You sat on the edge of the tub, facing the closed door. From there you couldn't hear if he had left or not and that was the plan.

"Cariño, can you come out so we can talk?" Joaquín's voice startled you, you were sure he would leave.

"If you're going to tell me I made our friendship too awkward and you no longer wanna be friends, I understand," you called through the door, hoping to save yourself from even more embarrassment.

"Angel, that's not," Joaquín cut himself off and you saw the door handle turn. You hung your head and hid your face in your hands, hoping he wouldn't make you talk about it. You heard him walk over and could see his shadow crouch in front of you through the cracks between your fingers. "Angel, will you look at me?" He gently took your hands but waited until you started to move them until he felt you move them a little.

"I'm sorry for making our friendship weird," you needlessly apologized.

"You did not make it weird," Joaquín gave you one of his blinding smiles.

"I didn't?" You scrunched your eyes, not catching on.

"You didn't, want to know why?" You nodded. "Because I love you," he gave you another blinding smile that you couldn't help but return.

"God, I'm an idiot," you laughed, leaning forward to place your head on his chest. You could feel and hear his laugh, one of your own bubbling over.

"An idiot, yes. But hopefully my idiot." You whipped your head over so fast to look him in the eyes.

"I," you started but stopped, looking over his face. "Yes, I'm your idiot," you told him, confirming you would be his.

"Good because I'm yours," he gave you a smile before leaning closer. "And hopefully you'll let me kiss you?" You nodded and you two leaned closer before your lips connected.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests

[setmeatopthepyre]

🦋

hopefully I'll actually get to all these prompts this weekend. last week turned out a lot busier than expected, whoops. thank you!

-

🦋 - pothos | pathos

Eddie takes the plunge and puts a down payment on a house in El Paso.

It’s not perfect. One could generously describe it as a fixer-upper, but paying LA rent on a single LAFD salary hasn’t exactly left him with much in terms of savings. Besides, it’ll be good to have a project, a place to really make his - their - own. Just because it’s a little rundown doesn’t mean it can’t be fixed. And it’s only ten miles from his parents’ place, just in case Chris doesn’t want to… Well. Just in case.

He still needs to figure out what to do with his current place, but it’s fine. He’ll pick up some extra shifts, spend his downtime figuring out how long he still has on his lease, if he can get out of it somehow. Or he’ll find someone to sublet. That shouldn’t be too hard; his place is nice. The neighborhood is good. Mostly. Jim’s surprise meth lab not withstanding, but Eddie maintains that it wasn’t really that much of a risk if no one noticed before, right? He’s pretty sure the news reports never mentioned the street either, and Jim’s in prison now, so there’s no reason anyone has to know. It’ll be fine.

He doesn’t tell Buck yet. Or anyone, for that matter. Why would he? There’s no rush. He’ll be sure to tell them all before he has to put in his notice at the station. If he tells Bobby, tells the people at work, he’ll have to listen to them brainstorm his replacement, or question his choices, or whatever, and if he tells Buck it’ll just be inviting the guy to pick up a clipboard to ‘help him plan’, or a bunch of links to the do’s and don’ts of renovation, or a… somethingstack. Whatever Buck is always on about. So no, there’s no need to involve others yet, not when he’s still figuring things out for himself.

It helps that Buck doesn’t ask, either. Eddie worried he might, after Buck caught him browsing listings, but he hasn’t. He’s… not exactly sure why he’s glad Buck doesn’t ask, besides the risk of clipboards getting involved, of course. It just makes things easier that he doesn’t, and Buck is thoroughly engrossed in his whole ‘ask everyone if Tommy seems weird’-thing, so that’s good.

Actually, maybe he should tell Tommy. Tommy always has some sort of project going at his place; he probably knows a thing or two about fixer uppers. Maybe Eddie can get his thoughts on some of his renovation ideas.

Yeah, he'll reach out to Tommy. Sure, they're friends, but they haven't known each other that long so Tommy won't make it a whole thing that he's leaving. Tommy's simple, easy, unattached, and best of all: he won't tell Buck.

-

[make me write]

+ tag list for those who requested tags for this fic under the cut ↓

@fiyaerrigan @bisexualbrainrots @leashybebes @louuieferrignojr @rubydaiquiri @teabroomsandbooks @crimsonwildcat-blog @sweaters-and-silly @nochance-noway @manifestingchaoticvibes @hyperfocusthusly @frogsinflannel @beanarie @rcmclachlan @sad-girl-hours23 @ambernotember @apartmentsmoke @bidisasterevankinard @agentpeggycartering @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @daughterofscotland @chococara25 @jujuberry136 @alejaan91 @ferrigno @detectivehorror @a-mel0n @tommysdaddykink

[natalieironside]

Hey great news I've made some progress editing the back chapters of Oathbreaker and putting them somewhere other than ugly-ass Patreon. Great news for gay ppl who like low-fantasy swashbucklers about sad knights who feel bad about the bad stuff they did. If that's u then u can come follow along w/ this most true and creditable recounting of the life and doings of Sir Reynold d'Morwen, Marquiss of Eldur. If u read In the Court of the Nameless Queen, you'll see lots of familiar faces.

It follows the misadventures of Reynold d'Morwen, a boy from Morwen Vale who took holy orders to escape justice for a terrible crime and now finds himself part of a military order, the Knights of St. Vitus, where he's dragooned into a war of conquest and faith with the vicious and fearless barbarians to the north of his homeland. Thrown into a life wherein every moment of existence is an act of faith and war, Reynold is forced to grow up hard and fast and make some hard decisions about who he is, what he stands for, and what it means to do the right thing. Come see all the exciting attractions, such as: How Freydis' battle plan from Carnival worked out. Fantasy Cathars and Fantasy Bogomils. The omnicidal omnisexual cannibals (aka the good guys). Guys making bad decisions that end very badly for everyone involved. Guys who are just being bros with their bros who are definitely guys until it turns out they're girls. Giant spiders. Awkward teenagers in love bumbling into each other. And lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of religious trauma!

Rn we got Chapter 1: Four Hares and a Priest

Chapter 2: Mount and Blade

Chapter 3: Of Women and Rabbits

Chapter 4: Sweetbreads

More 2 come

[1nsan1tysan1ty]

Tim AU where he’s dead as hell

Tim Drake died at age 10 while chasing Batman. Tim Drake dies to a gunshot wound to the abdomen from a bullet gone astray (that goon can honestly die with him cause that was such a bitch move).

He wakes up at the manor, cold and alone. He blinks, confused. He doesn’t feel dead although he’s…cold. His camera is still hanging off his neck and the high ceilings of the Drake manor offer no explanation.

“Okay,” Tim says, “okay.”

He stands up, head dizzy and body aching. His abdomen in particular hurts quite a bit and when he pulled his shirt up, there was a circular shaped scar. It was rigid and a little red on the edges.

Tim, being a ten year old, simply shrugged and went about his day. He continued school even though the people around him ignored him. He still did his work and the confused look on his teachers face was always a little weird.

And after a week break, Tim leaves the house to stalk the bats again. He finds that when he hides in the shadows (he learned from watching the bats do this) he basically disappears. It makes snapping these pictures so much easier!

Then, the day his parents return from their dig, Tim is very at the weirdness of his parents. They’re sniffly and just barely holding it together. They keep ignoring Tim too!!

And suddenly, when there’s a gala held in his own name and the whispers of condolences, does he realize what’s happing

“Okay. I’m…dead,” he nods as he stares at his sobbing mother, “dead-dead.”

Tims eyes wander to Mr. Wayne and watches as he frowns and tries to comfort his mother.

///cutaway segment where we timeskip and I yap///

Now, I’d assume that Tim is…a title numb. He accepts it weirdly and just decides to live as normally as possible(he’s in denial). This time, he pretend she’s alive but he doesn’t actually interact with living beings and their world.

Okay, here’s a new thing

Because Tim is dead, he can wander Gotham with zero issues and thus, starts spying and listening in on rouges. He captured photos still of course and suddenly, he stumbles upon a big plan that would kill literally everyone. It’s set to happen in let’s say a year from when he finds out

Queue Tim finally deciding to do something). He prints the pictures he took(how? I’m not sure. He’s just built different I guess) and he starts leaving them in Batman’s, Nightwings, and Robins patrol routes.

One day, Tim just goes “fuck it” and shows up to the manor. He hides in the shadows and subconsciously allows himself to blend in with them. He’s nervous okay??

Dick is walking down the corridor, photograph in hand and Tim is just so excited! He’s also worried and stressed and dead which he totally forgot about. He scares the shit out of Dick which in turn scares the shit out of Tim and he scurries into the shadows again.

Later, Dick tells the others about the encounter

“Its eyes were glowing pure white!! With really sharp teeth and holy shit—“

“Language.”

“—and holy cow it was terrifying!!”

While Tim is a little sad that Dick(his Robin!!) called Tim, a 10(11?) year old, scary, it does spark a new idea.

Thus, Tim decides to play into the exaggerated narrative Dick had set in motion. The shadows like him and play along with his trickery. He leads the bats with flowing blinking eyes and soft whispers.

And finally, three days before Gotham is to be exploded, Bruce figures it out and the Batfam save the day.

Happy ending! Yay!

Tim probably haunts them and because he’s been dead for so long (and as a child), he literally doesn’t know how to live anymore

The bats have to coax him out of his cryptid, lurker like mindset and now they have 10(is he 11? 12? Maybe 15 now?) year old Tim Drake whose now permanently family.

End lol

Note:

This was VERY rushed and just an idea I had to write down

If anyone would like to expand their thoughts or ad don pls do!! Comment or reblog or whatever lol

I would highly appreciate it!!

[octosblog]

Sad Headcannos🫧

🫧:Peso has a bad habit of biting his fins because of his anxiety at work. Barnacles tried to help by giving him gloves to protect his fins, but he kept doing it

🫧:Because of his autism, Shellington tends to have meltdowns for many reasons such as: flashing lights, loud noises or when something doesn't go as planned.

🫧:Tweak suffered some discrimination when she went to college for the simple fact of being a female engineer, this had a strong impact on her life and sometimes she cries about it.

🫧:Barnacles has scars all over his body (especially his arms and legs) which causes him great insecurity and the only thing that compels him is to wear long clothes.

🫧:Kwazii also suffered discrimination from his family. They thought that because he was a pirate with good intentions, he was weak and a disappointment to everyone

🫧:Dashi, on the other hand, suffered from an eating disorder as a teenager to the point of being hospitalized. She thinks she's ugly, but Tweak always tells her she's the most beautiful woman in the world. 🥰😭

🫧:The Vegimals are prone to having nightmares because of Kwazii's pirate stories. This leads to arguments between Kwazii and Shellington. They think it's all their fault, but Shellington He always tells them that nothing is their fault.(please give them an award for best father 😭)

🫧:Although Professor Inkling is calm and in a good mood, he is afraid of something: Death.The mere thought that he could leave at any moment terrifies him.

I just discovered this mode that translates everything I write into English. And you don't know how happy I am about this (although I'm afraid of writing something wrong and not knowing it because I don't speak English 🥲)

Gracias por leer :D

[urara-ra]

How fun it was to joke around with the dentist, it felt so comfortable, so familiar. "Tell me why I have trouble believing you right now?" Urara's tone was light and playful. He was very aware that Ren was teasing him just to see his reactions, he didn't even need to see the smirk or hear the amusement in the other's voice. But he didn't mind, not only was he used to being teased, he actually liked it. "Used to read? You're not reading them anymore?" It peaqued the angel's interest why Ren had stopped reading those books. "Don't spoil me too much, I might get greedy and want to be spoiled all the time." He chuckled but at the prospect of being spoiled by the other Urara's lips curled into a smile. Being spoiled was always nice, but being spoiled by the other sounded even better. "Do you like eating anything with you coffee? Like cake or pastries? When you have the time to sit down and enjoy some coffee, I guess at work you don't always have that luxury." Working as a dentist in a clinic he was sure that Ren usually had a lot to do and breaks were a luxury. Afterall that was the entire reason Ren started talking to him, to vent about his exhaustion of having dealt with quite a lot of patients. Urara smiled contently as he kept eating. "It's not too salty at all, I think it's tasty the way it is." Another approving hum left the angel's lips to underline his words. His feet that were on the floor absentmindedly tapping a rythym, a habit he picked up when he learned how to play the drums. Again the demon's warmth stood out to him, in a very pleasant way. It was rare for him to feel so at ease around other creatures, especially so soon. Urara had trouble believing that the other wasn't aware of him not being human but he wouldn't bring it up, just for the slim chance that he was, in fact, unaware. However as his food was disappearing the thought that their time together would be over soon crossed his mind. It caused a soft exhale. The sadness didn't last long though, as they already made plans to see each other again soon. "You should give me your phone number or LINE address so I can give you the details about Sunday." The drummer said with a smile and got his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it and put it on the table so Ren could put in his contact information, if he wanted to. It wasn't just so they could talk about their plans for the end of the week but so they could stay in contact at all. Already he enjoyed being with the other and he wouldn't want their meeting to be a one time thing.

“I had such an exhausting day today, having roughly 10 patients. What about you?”

"Patients? What do you do for a living? Are you a kind of doctor?" he wondered and tilted his head to the side. "My day was uneventful, which means I got to relax a little and practice my drumming skills. Ah, I'm a drummer, that's why. Would you like to get some food or a coffee to help you relax a little after your exhausting day?"

[dcxdpdabbles]

Damian: This is outrageous!

Tim: What's going on, Demon brat?

Damian: Someone stole all my favorite paint brands from the art stores in Gotham! Who would do such a thing!?

Tim: I'm pretty sure they just ran out of your brand. They'll have more in the next shipment

Damian: Don't patronize me, Drake. This was a blatant personal attack aimed at me.

Tim rolling eyes: Of course it is.

Damian: I'm telling you someone is going out of their way to cause enough minor inconveniences to drive me mad!

Meanwhile, somewhere in Gotham

Tucker: Why are you buying all these paintbrushes again?

Danny: I just got my Ghost King unlimited card, which means I can cause enough minor inconveniences that it will drive my twin brother mad. *Evil Cackle*

Sam: This is the first time I've heard of you having a twin.

Tucker: Please don't get him started-

Danny: We were born to inherit the mighty Ras Al Ghul's empire. Sadly, there could only be one True Heir, and on our fifth birthday, we were set to duel to find the one truly worthy of the title. I refused to fight, so I showed up without a sword. My brother did not have such inhibitions and attacked me the second I stepped into the room. I tried my best but could not beat my younger brother unarmed and was banished in shame. Now I wait in the shadows, ready to get back at the brother who turned his sword on me.

Tucker: Here we go. Look what you did, Sam; now he's monologuing.

Sam: But how will buying out his favorite things going to actually do anything for his revenge?

Tucker: *Twirling finger at his temple*

Sam:  I mean, yes, of course; I know he's crazy, but stupid? I just don't-

Damian: *Screams of outrage* WHO BOUGHT ALL THE GOTHAM RED POINT BRUSHES?!

Danny: *EVIL CACKLING* IT'S WORKING!

Sam: Well. I stand corrected.

Tucker: You get used to it. He does something like this at least once a year. Before Damian Wayne came to live with his Dad, Danny would fly out to Nanda Parbat to steal all their lotions. I've learned to let him have his fun. Plus, I get a free yearly vacation out of it.

Sam: Is that where he got the coconut and kukui nut oil lotion he lent me? My grandma loved it, and it helped a ton with her eczema.

Tucker: If you want more, Danny has twenty-five crates of it.

Danny: Come on, guys! We have to get to Gotham's aromatherapy essentials before Damian! Let's see him try to meditate with stall air now! MA HA HA HA .

[buttercupshands]

can you even call it a warm up if I'm going to bed without drawing anything big

and a sketch I made while sitting in the park today

[the-great-emperor-commodus]

[the thing looked at him like it wanted to eat him..hell it probably did, straighten out you make yourself look like an easy kill. don't let it Know you have a weakness,no matter how much it hurts don't show it.

then he starts reading and it dissipates as he laughs]

you're really stupid,huh? or do you think i am? either way whatever you're planning isn't gonna pan out, should've came up with something better.

["grieving" fucking ridiculous, nobody grieved him when he was alive, not really at least. why would they start now??? he's not one of the great men who get statues and people who weep endless tears for the loss of a great mind, he's the emperor who didn't achieve shit and then pissed off everyone off so bad they got a god to kill him, he'd understand if it was about his father,hell even Pertinax the old bastard. not him, that's not how it works, maybe they're sad about loosing what they thought was a safe bet at cheap muscle or some other form of convenience,at best,but it wasn't because of his death but because of him disappointing all of them. he has a tendency to do that doesn't he? such a shame,to waste perfectly good potential.]

Commodus is.. in the underworld. We all know that. He’s down there ignoring his problems, thinking they’d go away if he just pretends for long enough that no one cares about him.

He could see Lucas getting closer, and he’d just go away, disappearing. He could tell the signal was getting more persistent.. until it suddenly ceased. No longer moving more towards him.. but not going back to the overworks any. He’d figure Lucas maybe just.. lost or got rid of the tracker that had been discreetly put on him. In other words, he didn’t think much into it.

Well… that is, until he came by the area later, figuring he’d collect the item and.. he saw Lucas. He didn’t expect it to be his body though, now did he?

[call him sentimental but he purposely went to the place lucas last was,he missed his damnit,he knew this would happen,all his relationships end in at least one person dead,but he didn't expect it to be so soon,it hurt,more than all the other ones it just hurt.

sure it was a weakness, something small and pathetic he should stub out,but it's not like he has a reason to keep being strong, there's nobody to protect. if the Erynie want a stab at him he can take it,but he's so tired of being strong.

he wishes he didn't when he sees a dead body that looks unmistakably like him. no no no no no, it's not real,it was just a trick of Tartarus,it couldn't be real,he wouldn't do that, he's survived it before,and he wouldn't die over HIM he was a lost cause,why would he risk it over that??

he feels tears fall as he walks up,he doesn't want it to be true,it can't be true,but he needs to check,if Just for the sake of snubbing out the useless hoping.

he clutches the body and wails,he doesn't need to see the face,he knows. it makes him feel like he's about to fall apart like a dropped porcelain cup. it's all your fault.]

[puppppppppy]

AND I MET THE CHANGE GOD TOO. OKAY. COOL OKAY

[dazais-guardian-angel]

Well, at least Fukuzawa got his wish granted, I guess.... he's finally inside Fukuchi <3