#feel free to share your thoughts if your thinking thoughts too

[lbjeff]

If I was Alfred, Tim is a grandson that help my son from destroying himself after the death of my other beloved grandson. And a girl who used to be his girlfriend take his place after everything they been through, I don’t think I will accept her easily

Alfred in comics not showing much his disapproval, such a gentleman

I don’t know much about Steph, but due to my searching, she used to be Tim’s girlfriend. Tim is still kind and supportive to her during her troubles, after she’s pregnant with her ex or messing with his mission. But she didn’t give a second thought or at least care to communicate properly with him about taking his Robin role, knowing how much it really mean to him. Then she died due to recklessness.

I know she has her own charm and character development but my first impression about her, to be honest, it is not too good

That’s my opinion. Feel free to share your points of view. But if you only want to argue, make you own post about your problems

I generally don't like the plot point that Alfred doesn't like Stephanie but my new thought process is that Alfred doesn't like Stephanie because she is every part of Bruce he is scared to acknowledge and all the parts of Jason he is still mourning.

[billiereid]

Toys: Haikyuu!! x Reader

Warnings: Rated X. This content is intended for readers ages 18 years or older. Minors, do not interact.

Featuring: Toru Oikawa. Hajime Iwaizumi. Wakatoshi Ushijima. Satori Tendo. Fem!Reader.

Contains: Phone sex. Dom/sub dynamics. Begging. Voyeurism / Exhibitionism. Use of vibrators and/or dildos. Overstimulation. Sadist!Tendo. Mention of penetrative sex.

Summary: The subject of toys in the bedroom can be controversial. Everyone seems to have their own opinions, especially when their partner is involved. Here's how I think some of the Haikyuu!! men would feel about their female partner having a toy.

Author's Note: This is written post-timeskip. All characters are written to be adults.

Toru Oikawa

He was the person suggesting them in the first place.

Oikawa is away for his volleyball games all the time. So the two of you picked out a couple to use while he’s away. 

When you’re together, he loves watching you get desperate with a vibrator on your clit.

And when he’s away, he has a hard time keeping his hands off himself when he hears you over the phone. 

The squelch of your hot, sticky, wet pussy. Your soft moans. 

And there are a few things you can say to get him really desperate and needy, all for you. 

“Please, Toru,” you whimpered into the phone, tucked between your cheek and the pillow. “Need more… Iss not enough…” Your words were slurred, but Oikawa heard them all the same. He could hear the buzzing of a vibrator in the background. He knew which one it was, of course.

Toru’s voice shook as he spoke, and you knew he was stroking himself vigorously. “Aw, sweet girl,” he cooed, trying to maintain his dominant persona. But when his mind was filled with the sensation of your sweet sex clenching around him, it was hard not to whimper out loud. “It’s not enough? You miss my cock that bad?”

“Yes! Yes, miss you s’much,” you blurted out, your voice getting more and more desperate as the seconds pass. “Wanna come for your cock…”

Oikawa did his best to stifle his voice, but a slutty moan still dripped from his lips as you begged for him. “Oh babygirl,” he groaned. “Don’t worry. When I get home I’m gonna make you come so hard you can’t walk straight.”

Hajime Iwaizumi

He was a little bit intimidated by the fact that you have a toy.

The idea that something besides him could bring you so much pleasure is…

Well…

Disconcerting to him.

But then he walked in on you while you’re using it.

And he was s m i t t e n.

Both of you seemed to be frozen in time.

Iwaizumi was home early from a training session. He wasn’t supposed to be home yet. You were having a little bit of alone time. You hadn’t even heard the front door to your shared apartment open and shut. You didn’t even realize he was home until the door to your shared bedroom swung open, allowing the golden light from the hallway to pour into the dark room.

He saw you then. Wide eyes. Face flushed with pleasure. Wand attached to your clit. Pussy leaking with your arousal. You were frozen in time, startled by seeing him so abruptly in such a vulnerable position.

“Fuck, baby…” he uttered in a whisper, almost a growl. He didn’t dare move yet, wanting to burn this image into his memory for the rest of time. After a moment, he lets his duffle bag fall to the floor and takes a couple of steps toward the bed, eyes trained on your weeping pussy. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, couldn’t bear the thought.

He sat on the bed, roughly tugging his dick free from his shorts and boxers. “Don’t fucking stop,” Hajime uttered quietly, as if being too loud was going to ruin the moment. “I wanna see you come.”

Wakatoshi Ushijima

He enjoys the fact that you have toys.

But he will very rarely use them on you. 

It isn’t that he doesn’t like them, or that he doesn’t want to.

He just doesn’t usually think about it.

But if you ask…

This man will literally do anything you ask.

You had been so unbelievably sweet when you asked. 

Ushijima couldn’t say no to you. Not when you were laid underneath him in just your panties, looking up at him with those eyes… 

And now, here you were, laid underneath him. Your legs were wrapped around his waist. He was buried inside you to the hilt, thrusting slowly. He held a wand to your clit. He could feel the powerful vibrations on his dick. He was desperate now, watching you squirm and whimper under the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you. 

You had come at least four times now, but Wakatoshi wasn’t stopping. In this moment, he was obsessed with the way you twitched underneath him. And that feeling only intensified when your cunt started gushing around his dick.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he groaned, almost mindlessly. “You look so fucking gorgeous like this…”

Satori Tendo

He’s a sadist if I ever did see one.

In all seriousness, he loves toys in the bedroom.

He never does last very long on his own.

So he likes to torture you with toys first, so he can make the moment last as long as possible.

How long had it been? How many times had you already come?

You had lost track. It seemed like hours that you had laid underneath Tendo on the bed. Your squirt covered your thighs, your ass, the sheets beneath you, and Satori’s face and hands. Your eyes were glassy, your face flushed, your legs trembling as you did your best to keep them spread. There was a fresh, red handprint on your inner thigh where he had punished you for letting them fall closed before. 

But he hadn’t lost track. No, he was keeping a very detailed count of how many times you came, how many times you squirted, how many times the pleasure had brought tears to your eyes. Which toys made you come the hardest, which ones made your eyes roll back, which ones made your legs shake, and which ones made you squirt. The selection of toys he had used was spread out on the bed next to you, each one more covered in your slick and come than the last. 

Finally, you watch Tendo take off his boxers. Even with your tired, glassy eyes, you could see how hard it was. It was an angry shade of red, the veins prominent up and down the length. You wondered if it hurt him to be that hard, but he didn’t seem to mind. He lifted your legs over his shoulders, practically bending you in half as he leaned down and whispered in your ear, “You think you can come one more time for me?”

[thanosscross]

My Darling - Choi Seung Hyun/T.O.P x reader part 3

Summary: After weeks of thinking of ways to wrap up your tour, your boyfriend has the perfect idea, making your last show for tour a lot more memorable and less stressful

Warnings: None

Life couldn't be any better for you and your boyfriend, you hadn't fully made it official, but you and Seung Hyun agreed to stay committed to each other, which you were both fine with. As the months passed, so did your tour dates, getting closer and closer to your last show which started to weigh on you.

"Jagi..What's going on?" Seung Hyun asked as he walked into your shared home, you were only home for a few days before you had to leave again, so your boyfriend tried his best to be as present as possible while still keeping to his schedule "I can't think of anything for my last show! I need something big but I can't think of anything other than releasing the song we made, but I don't want everybody to think there's gonna be another album before the end of tour" You frowned looking at the spread of screens in front of you tiredly massaging your temples. Seung Hyun thought after that up until the day you had to leave, smiling at you with his adorable smile as he waited for you at the door "What're you doing?" You laughed raising your eyebrow at him "I was thinking... You know..You've really been helping me rebuild my reputation..And you're always there to make sure the critics aren't too harsh..so what if for your last show, we both release our single" He offered, you furrowed your eyebrows dropping your bags "Seriously? Seung Hyun, if you're serious that's amazing you feel ready again!" You cheered hugging him tightly "As long as I have you, I've got this" He smiled softly "So, I've got everything packed, lil guy is with your sister so he's being taken care of in doggy paradise, we are free to tour the road" He smiled, picking your bags up taking them to the car that was outside waiting, Seung Hyun smiled at your body guard nodding "Good morning" He smiled, happy to be able to see you more.

Rehearsal was hard on you, you weren't expecting your award shows performances to be demanding, and yet you were more worn out than you had ever been. Looking at the clock you groaned, only twenty minutes before you had to be back on stage to do it all for real. Looking towards backstage you offered your poor boyfriend a sad smile, feeling bad he had to sit back and watch you work for the next two shows.

They flew by rather quickly, leaving you in your hotel room the night before your last show, pacing the hotel floor nervous about every possible outcome, your boyfriend almost mimicking your behavior with his own worries. You jumped as you heard shouting and your body guard slide into the room holding the door shut "M-Ma'am, do you know a Ji-Yong, or G-Dragon? He says he knows the both of you" He asked, you tilted your head looking at Seung Hyun, watching his expression change through different emotions "Yea let him in" You replied resting a hand on Seung Hyun's chest as a form of comfort "Seung Hyun!" Ji-Yong shouted rushing in "Is it true? Are you really coming back to k-pop?" He asked rushing to his friend "He's not sure, we're taking it slow" You smiled softly extending your hand sweetly "Y/n l/n" You offered, he smiled stopping to shake your hand "it's so nice to meet you! I'm Ji-Yong, Seung Hyun's friend" He introduced, you shook his hand gently, glancing back to Seung Hyun "Y-Yea, Y/n's been a huge help with trying to restore my name back home" He explained nervously, you smiled, letting the two talk and catch up while you went to do you pre-show routine. Hearing your call you quickly moved to your mark on stage taking a deep breath as you started the show.

It'd be a full hour before Seung Hyun finally got his call, you stood in the center of the stage panting trying to catch your breath from the last show as the crowd slowly quieted down you lifted the microphone up "This next part..I know it will be hard, But I need you to contain yourselves, because he's-" As soon as the pronoun left your mouth the crowd erupted again, you nerves vanishing whenever you heard Seung's chuckle in your ear piece, knowing he was getting his microphone and ear pieces hooked up you knew you had to be quick. "-He's a little nervous about this, but we're excited to show you what we've been so busy working on.." You smirked turning around to face the entry and exit to the stage along with the giant big screen that was currently showing the same entry you were watching as the intro to your song started to play. "T.o.p is back, baby!" Seung's voice played over the track, having to cover your ears for a moment from the screaming echoing off of the walls you missed Seung rushing out on stage waving as the track cut out for a moment, letting the crowd process what was going on first. As Seung Hyun snapped out of his trance he made his way to you, wrapping his arm around you leaning close "Are you okay?" He asked softly, you nodded softly smiling at him "Yea, Wasn't expecting everybody to be that loud, but what can I say, everybody loves T.O.P!" You said shouting the last part into the microphone, he just chuckled shaking his head as he got into his mark.

Preforming with you was different than it was performing with BigBang, it was less people on stage, all of the attention was just on you and him, it was scary but at the same time he missed the feeling so bad, and as of right now, everybody seemed happy he was there. As Seung Hyun started his verse you made sure to circle around him, dancing overdramatically to his lyrics, along with adding in random back up vocals, your only goal was to make sure everybody had fun during the show, including Seung Hyun. He quickly turned his body to started moving towards you as you started to rap with him, staring him down as you both went faster and faster before you ended up stumbling over your words laughing loudly. You were quick to realize you wouldn't be able to end the show so soon after bringing Seung Hyun out, so of course you encouraged him to perform some of his songs with you, knowing both you and the fans would love it.

As Zutter started to play, you gasped sprinting across the stage, watching your boyfriend playfully hump the air to the lyrics "T.o.p! We are a PG show!" You giggled into the microphone, He just raised his microphone up making direct eye contact "Sorry, Jegi" He smiled, you just blushed running off to the other side of him "continue on! But PG!" You laughed, watching him from your spot as he preformed, almost like it was second nature to him, Seung Hyun always make sure to occasionally make eye contact with you as a silent way of letting you know he was okay. You watched him preform quietly until the final song started to play, Knock out, your eyes shot over to him as the crowd screamed loudly as you raised your microphone starting to rap Ji-Yong's verse, even making an effort to spot him out to get him to help him finish the verse off. As Seung Hyun finished his part of the chorus you both stood next to each other, laughing as you matched each others movements as you sang Ji-yong's double double combo part. As Seung Hyun started again, you followed him down the stage, mimicking his movements, freezing anytime he looked back, as the song approached its end, you and Seung Hyun partnered up to finish the last verse. As you finished the last word and went to strike a pose with Seung Hyun, he had already beat you to it, pulling you back to your platform that lowered you back underneath the stage to the backstage area, before cupping your cheek before raising the microphone up one last time "T.O.P, baby" he whispered before pressing his lips to yours, you giggled as the platform lowered and the crowd screamed loudly. Once you were under the stage and your microphones were off you looked at Seung Hyun squealing "That was so fun!" You giggled hugging him tightly "Thank you" He whispered, hugging you back gently "For what?" you asked, he just shook his head "Helping me so much..for seeing I'm still a person beyond my past mistakes" He whispered, holding your hands tightly "Of course, I'll always be there for you, Seung Hyun..I promise" You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before pulling him towards to stairs to take you backstage "Now come on! I took the liberty of making us an after party!" You smiled excited, you watched his face fall "I'm sorry, baby..I just..Don't feel like going out tonight" he frowned, you just smiled pulling him to your dressing room, which was decorated slightly, the only difference being the three men sitting in your dressing room excitedly waiting for the person they saw as an older brother for so long.

"What's this?" He asked cluelessly, you just shook your head "I figured, your comeback is a big thing, and the only family you really talked about celebrating with after shows was the boys, and your sisters family..So..Your sister can't make it till tomorrow night, so You'll get a night with the boys, and a weekend with all of your family" You smiled, turning to face him, Seung Hyun just hugged you tightly, trying to hide his tears, just in the few months you had been together, you had done so much for him, in his own interest, not your own, and it was one of the reasons he was starting to fall in love with you.

--

You like?

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Taglist!!

@ag022123

@acehasmyheart

[hueningstar]

it’s so impressive how you put stuff out so fast. i aspire to be like you 😔

i’ve been thinking a lot about shower sex with beomgyu. like he would just love to come back home each day and spend time with you in the shower. it doesn’t always end in sex (but it usually does 🤭). i just feel like he’d love messing around and teasing you in the shower only to get you riled up over his dick

Soaked in Lust

Summary : Beomgyu loves spending time with you in the shower, teasing and messing around until it usually leads to something more.

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A/N : Aww, thank you so much,@pombeom ! That means a lot to me 💕 Honestly, the only reason I’m able to post so much right now is because I’m on vacation. But since I have a big exam coming up this summer, I probably won’t be as active closer to that time. After it’s over, though, I’ll definitely be back to posting more regularly! For now, I’m just trying to make the most of the free time I have and keep sharing with you all! 🩷

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Pairing : Beomgyu × reader

Warnings : teasing, making out, shower sex, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), choking

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Beomgyu walks through the front door, a tired but content smile on his face as he sets his bag down. "Hey love, I'm home." He calls out, his voice warm and affectionate.

Beomgyu hangs up his coat and kicks off his shoes, making his way towards the bathroom. He can hear the sound of running water and the soft hum of your voice as you sing off-key in the shower.

A small smile plays on his lips as he enters the bathroom, the steam from the shower filling the room. He strips off his clothes slowly, savoring the anticipation of joining you. As he pulls back the curtain, he's greeted by the sight of your curves, all wet and soapy.

Beomgyu steps into the shower behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back against his chest. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent mixed with the sweet smell of body wash. "Mmm, I missed you today, love."

You sigh contentedly as Beomgyu holds you close, his warm breath against your skin. "I missed you too, Gyu. It was so quiet without you here." You reach back to play with his hair, tangling your fingers in the wet strands.

Beomgyu nuzzles against your neck, his hands slowly roaming over your stomach possessively. He feels content just holding you like this, but his body begins to react to your closeness, growing hard against your back. He starts to nudge his nose against your neck, teasing.

You feel Beomgyu's nose nudging against your neck, and you giggle, tilting your head to give him better access. He takes advantage, nuzzling and kissing your neck softly, his hands slowly sliding lower towards your hips.

Beomgyu's hands finally settle on your hips as he pulls you more snugly against him. He can feel his length growing harder and thicker against your back, and he starts to wiggle his hips slightly, teasingly rubbing himself against you. "You always smell so good..."

You let out a soft moan as you feel Beomgyu's hardness pressing insistently against you. Arousal courses through your body, but you decide to tease him a bit. "Is that all you've got for me after one day apart? I thought you'd be happier to see me."

Beomgyu chuckles, his breath warm against your neck as he feels you teasing him. He wraps his arms around you tighter and nuzzles you again possessively. "You always know how to make it worse, don't you?"

In retaliation, Beomgyu suddenly spins you around to face him, pressing you back against the cool shower tiles. His eyes darken with lust as he captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue pushing past your parted lips to claim your mouth.

You moan into the kiss, your hands gripping Beomgyu's shoulders tightly as he pins you to the wall, his body flush against yours. The contrast of his hot skin and the cold tile sends shivers down your spine. You wrap a leg around his hip, grinding against him eagerly.

Beomgyu's hands slide down to squeeze your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as if to emphasize his strength. He presses you harder against the wall, his erection now nestled firmly against your core.

You gasp at the sudden pressure and wrap your legs around his waist, your arms looping around his neck. You look into his eyes, seeing the desire and love burning there. You lean in to whisper in his ear, your voice low and seductive.

Beomgyu shivers as your warm breath tickles his ear, his arms tightening around you possessively. He nuzzles your neck and growls softly, "You always make it difficult to be gentle..." His hands roam over your back and sides, kneading the flesh.

You smile against his ear, your own hands tracing patterns on his chest and abdomen. "That's the point, isn't it?" you whisper, your voice husky with desire.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest against your lips. "Always," he agrees, his fingers digging into your hips as he lifts you up, settling you onto his lap with your legs draped over his. "Now, where were we?"

You bite your lip, wriggling in his lap until you feel his hardness pressing exactly where you need it.

Beomgyu groans as you grind against him, his fingers flexing on your hips. He captures your lips again, kissing you deeply as he repositions you, the tip of his cock now teasing your entrance. He pauses, looking into your eyes with a mischievous grin.

He slowly lowers you onto him, his hands spreading your thighs wider as he slowly fills you. He pauses halfway, making you whine and arch your back, trying to pull him deeper. He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

You pout, your nails digging into his shoulders as you try to force him deeper. "Beomgyu..." you whine, your voice filled with need and frustration. He smirks, loving the effect he has on you.

He slowly pushes all the way in with one deep thrust, making you gasp and moan loudly. His hands grip your hips firmly as he starts to move slowly, his pace deliberate and teasing "Is this what you wanted, love?" He whispers against your ear, his breath hot.

He continues to pound into you, his thick cock stretching your tight pussy to its limits. With each thrust, he hits that sweet spot inside you, making you scream in ecstasy. Your walls clamp down around him, trying to keep him inside as he fucks you hard and fast.

His hands grip your hips tightly as he pounds into you, his balls slapping against your ass with each brutal stroke. You can feel his thick cock throbbing inside you, filling you up completely. He reaches around and starts rubbing your clit in circles, sending shocks of pleasure through your body.

Feeling overwhelmed by sensation, you throw your head back and moan loudly, your nails raking down Beomgyu's chest. "Yes, right there!" you cry out, your hips bucking wildly to meet his thrusts.

He wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling your legs up and over his shoulders as he continues to pound into you mercilessly. He's hitting angles inside you that you never knew existed, making you see stars with each thrust. "You like that, baby?"

You can only scream in response as he hits that spot inside you that makes you feel like you're going to pass out. His thick length fills you completely, stretching you wider than anyone else ever has.

Beomgyu's eyes darken with lust as he watches your reactions, feeling your tight walls flutter around his cock. He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he continues his relentless pace, swallowing your moans.

His movements become more urgent, every stroke deliberate and deep. The sound of your bodies slapping together fills the room, mixing with your moans and his heavy breathing. One hand moves from your hip to your throat, gently squeezing as he fucks you harder. "Come for me, baby."

You feel like you're going to pass out from the intensity of the pleasure coursing through your veins. His thick length stretches you to your limits, filling you completely. His hand around your throat makes it hard to breathe, heightening the sensation.

He looks into your eyes, his own filled with dark lust as he chokes you gently around his thick length. "Look at me." he growls, his hips slamming into you over and over.

His eyes bore into yours, filled with unspoken words and intense emotion as he continues to choke and pound into you. You can feel his thick length throbbing inside you, ready to burst. He tightens his hand around your throat slightly, cutting off your breath completely.

Your mind starts to fog as the lack of oxygen mingles beautifully with the intense pleasure. Your body convulses uncontrollably, your orgasm ripping through you with shocking force. Beomgyu groans loudly as your pussy clamps down on him like a vice, milking his cock desperately.

With a final, powerful thrust, he spills himself deep inside you, his hot seed filling you completely. He releases your throat, watching as you gasp for air, your chest heaving. Panting, he pulls you close, his lips finding yours in a tender kiss despite the rough sex.

He nuzzles his face against yours, his heart racing against your chest. "Baby," he murmurs softly, his voice hoarse. He wraps his arms around you possessively, not wanting to let you go.

You nuzzle back, a contented smile on your face. Your body is still trembling with aftershocks, his seed slowly leaking out of you. You're wrapped up in his strong arms, feeling completely safe and loved.

He runs his fingers through your hair soothingly, his mind replaying the intense encounter. He pulls back slightly to look at you, his eyes searching your face. "Marry me." he blurts out, catching you off guard.

Your eyes widen in shock at his sudden proposal. You stare at him, speechless. After a moment, a soft giggle escapes your lips, turning into full-blown laughter. "You're asking me to marry you... right now?" you ask, still chuckling.

He grins, unapologetic. "Why not? I just fucked you so hard you saw stars. I think that's as good a moment as any to ask the woman I love to be my wife." he says, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Oh, is that all it takes to win a girl's hand? You'll need to keep those impressive skills up, mister." You smirk, teasing him gently.

He chuckles, his arms tightening around you. "Don't worry, love. I'll make sure to give you the best fuck of your life every single day if you marry me." He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, sealing the unspoken promise between you.

After the intense lovemaking session, Beomgyu carefully lifts you into his strong arms, carrying you gently into a warm, bubbly bath, the soothing water enveloping your tired body.

He kneels beside the tub, washing your hair tenderly, his fingers massaging your scalp. As he rinses away the suds, his hands linger on your shoulders, kneading away the tension. "Feel good?" he asks softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

You lean into his touch, letting out a contented sigh. "It does." you admit, feeling completely relaxed and loved. As he finishes cleaning you up, he helps you out of the tub and dries you off gently with a plush towel.

He carries you to the bedroom, tucking you into bed and kissing your forehead before turning off the lights and settling in beside you. As you drift off to sleep, you feel his arms wrap around you, holding you close and safe.

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taglist : @soobunni

[zepskies]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Smoke Eater - Part 11

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

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

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

🔥 Series Masterlist

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

Part 11: “Heart of the Home”

You sat very still.

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

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

But your life had never been quite that easy.

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

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

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

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

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

George thanked him.

And you sat very still. 

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

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

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

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

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

Your fault.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, where you goin’?" he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is there something going on?” he pressed.

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

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

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

“Hey, wait a minute,” he said.

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

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

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

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

You could no longer be still.

Dean held you when you fell apart in the hallway.

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

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

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

“Normally?” you echoed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Benton met the other man’s gaze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” you breathed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That you do, Lieutenant.”

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

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

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

“Come ‘ere a sec.”

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

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

“You don’t have to,” Dean replied.

George huffed. A smile made his eyes gleam brighter.

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

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

“How’s that?” he asked.

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

Dean’s lips quirked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean returned the call as he climbed into the Impala.

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

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

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

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

“Is she all right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will do.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing.”

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Both of you were crying when Andréa left your house.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just some water,” the older man replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me,” he said.

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

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

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

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

He realized that he only had one answer.

“Yes, sir. I am,” said Dean.

George gave a tired smile. “Good man.”

And that night, an agreement was made. 

In the morning, your grandfather was gone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, I’ll call her,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not leaving you with this.”

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

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

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

He’s not leaving you. 

Not like everyone else in your life.

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, baby. It’s not your fault.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he couldn’t leave you. 

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

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

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

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

You were still quiet, trying to stifle your crying.

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

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

“That matters to me,” he told you.

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

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

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

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

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

“For what?” he asked.

“For staying.”

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

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

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

Next Time:

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

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

Dean smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

Keep Reading: PART 12

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

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[valkyrieromanoff]

Hii dear ❤️

I just love all your hayden christensen works so much.

I have a request where Reader plays padme's role and during all the shooting for the movie they fall in love with each other and eventually they get married and evan is also very protective of the reader and sees her as a younger sister. You can add scenes like the movie interviews or press tours.

I have searched for a fic with this idea for so long but haven't found one. 😔

Plz I would really be glad if you do a fic regarding this idea. It's also ok if you can't do it no pressure dear 😊

Love ❤️

Taker care

🎀YOU AS PADMÉ X HAYDEN CHRISTENSE: THE LOVE STORY🎀

synopsis: in the bustling backdrop of a New York casting call in 2000, you meet Hayden Christensen, an enigmatic young actor vying for the role of Anakin Skywalker. A shared screen test ignites an undeniable chemistry, blurring the line between performance and reality, and leaving you both with a lingering sense that this is only the beginning of something extraordinary.

words: 1.1k

warning: not based on real events, fluffy, hint of romance

a/n: hello there, I was SO hyped when I read your idea—it’s seriously brilliant and such a vibe! ✨ Honestly, I’m super honored you trusted me to write this with you 💖. IDK if you were thinking of a one-shot, but I was imagining turning this into a mini-fanfic (like 10 chapters or so?) to really explore all the phases of their relationship—the tension, the feelings, the growth, all of it 🫶.

I hope you love what I’ve written so far, and PLEASE feel free to share your comments or opinions—they’re totally welcome and super important to make this story the best it can be for everyone! 🥰

CHAPTER ONE: CASTING

The sun was beginning to dip behind the Manhattan skyline as you stretched in your chair for the hundredth time that day. You’d been at this since the early morning hours, reading the same lines over and over again with a rotating cast of hopeful actors vying for the role of Anakin Skywalker. George Lucas had been clear about what he was looking for—a young man who could embody Anakin’s volatile mix of rebellious passion and burgeoning darkness. But after dozens of auditions, no one had quite nailed it.

Some actors were technically good but lacked the raw, unpolished edge George wanted. Others had the right look but couldn’t summon the emotional depth required for the role. And as the hours wore on, your excitement for the project was slowly being drained away by the monotony of the casting process.

You exhaled heavily, flipping through the well-worn pages of the script in your hands, your mind wandering to thoughts of escaping the stifling audition room and stepping into the brisk New York air. That’s when you heard his name.

“Hayden Christensen.”

Your eyes snapped up as a young man walked into the room. Honey-blonde hair framed his face, and his quiet confidence filled the space effortlessly. He wasn’t overly polished like so many of the others. There was an air of authenticity about him, as though he didn’t need to try too hard to be noticed.

Your gaze lingered on him as the casting director pointed out where he should stand. He nodded, offering a small, polite smile to the room before taking his mark. There was no unnecessary bravado, no nervous fidgeting—just a focused calm that intrigued you instantly.

When he began his lines, it was as though the room shifted. His voice carried a raw vulnerability, his delivery perfectly balancing Anakin’s simmering anger with the aching, earnest desire for connection. It wasn’t just an audition; it was as if he was Anakin Skywalker.

For a moment, you forgot you were supposed to be evaluating him. His intensity drew you in, his words lingering in the air long after they were spoken. You found yourself leaning forward in your chair, captivated. It was the first time all day you’d felt the spark of something real, something electric.

“(Y/N), are you ready?”

Your name snapped you out of the trance. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, as one of the assistants handed you the pages for the scene. Your heart was racing, and you didn’t know why. All you knew was that you were about to step into that scene with him.

The moment you walked up to Hayden, he looked at you, and for a split second, the rest of the room seemed to disappear. His eyes, an arresting shade of blue, locked onto yours, and you felt a spark—like the ignition of a lightsaber. He smiled, a small, almost imperceptible twitch of his lips, and suddenly, the world felt different.

When the scene began, your eyes darted to the script once or twice, double-checking your lines to ensure everything was perfect. But as the words fell from your lips and his presence seemed to pull you in, something shifted. The boundary between reality and performance blurred, and suddenly, you were no longer reading lines—you were living them. The emotions, the conflict, and the forbidden pull between your characters surged through you like a tidal wave.

“I can't. We can't. It's just not possible,” you murmured, your voice trembling with the weight of the words. It wasn’t just Padmé speaking; it was you, every syllable laced with an ache that felt startlingly real. Your heart, unbidden, protested against the logic of the line, just as hers would.

Hayden’s blue eyes locked onto yours, their intensity almost startling. They were so bright, so alive, but within them swirled a mix of hurt, longing, and something deeper—something that made the air between you feel impossibly charged. His voice was low, thick with a quiet desperation as he stepped closer. “Anything’s possible. Padmé, please listen…” His hand extended toward yours, trembling slightly, as though he couldn’t help but reach for you.

For a moment, you forgot to breathe. The warmth of his hand brushed yours, and an unfamiliar spark danced up your arm. Your fingers almost curled instinctively toward his before you pulled back, forcing yourself to remain in character.

“You listen,” you countered, your voice soft yet firm, filled with a mix of resignation and sorrow. “We live in a real world. Come back to it. You’re studying to become a Jedi Knight. I’m a Senator. If you follow your thoughts through to conclusion, they will take us to a place we cannot go… regardless of the way we feel about each other.”

The words came effortlessly now, as though they belonged not just to Padmé but to you. And as you spoke them, you noticed the way Hayden’s expression shifted—how every ounce of his being seemed to pour into the scene. He didn’t just act. He felt. And in his eyes, you saw it too—a connection, an unspoken understanding that transcended the lines on the page.

With each passing moment, the distance between you closed, not just physically but emotionally, spiritually, as if this moment was fated—destined to unfold exactly this way. By the time you finished your last line, the silence in the room was almost deafening, the air charged with something unspoken but undeniable.

The sound of applause jolted you from the trance-like state, breaking the fragile spell that had wrapped itself around the two of you. You blinked, stepping back instinctively, though your chest still felt tight, your heart still racing. George Lucas and the rest of the team stood clapping, clearly thrilled by the chemistry that had just unfolded in front of them.

You forced a smile, stepping back farther to give Hayden the moment he deserved. He was speaking with George now, his body language a mix of excitement and relief. He was the chosen one. Everyone in the room knew it. He had just won the role of a lifetime.

Yet, even as you lingered in the background, trying to focus on the buzz of conversation around you, you felt it—him. His gaze. It burned softly, like sunlight warming your skin even when you weren’t looking. Over the shoulders of directors and producers, he stole glances your way, as if drawn to you in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

And then there was you. A strange, unfamiliar feeling settled in your chest, making it harder to think clearly. You couldn’t quite place it—was it admiration? Excitement? Curiosity? It felt like all those things and more, tangled into a knot that you didn’t want to unravel just yet.

You didn’t know where this would lead, or why you felt so certain that this was only the beginning of something bigger. All you knew was that, somehow, you were eager to find out.

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem! Florist!Reader

Chapter Four: Poppies - Imagination

Summary: You finally get to visit Andrew at his workplace, and he discovers a not-so-new way to handle his feelings.

Word Count: 2711

Author's note: Hope you're all enjoying! Sorry again for having such a splotchy posting schedule, between holidays and getting the flu I was... preoccupied. Anyways, have a chapter of your favorite tattoo artist yearning his heart out as compensation 🖤

tag list: @celery-grace @gayandfairycore @deathmybride @harry-bowie-mercury @hodgepodge-musings @blue-eyed-bug @secretttytttttttttt @dinner-n-dxatribes @padfootblackswh0r3

fic below the cut <3

It had been three days since you had gotten coffee with him, and all Andrew could think about was you. It was getting a little concerning. Concerning to him, at least. He was a grown man, who was he to have — for lack of a better word — a crush? Let alone one he was too embarrassed to express his feelings for?

It was close to torture, but he had no right to complain. He had brought this upon himself, and he accepted it. He asked a woman, particularly one he thought was beautiful, to get coffee with him, paid for her, and still ended the whole affair with their relationship being at most friends and at the very least acquaintances. Stupid idea, and the definition of a missed opportunity. Alex had already berated him over this decision (“What do you mean you bought her coffee, just the two of you, and you didn’t even attempt to drop a hint that you like her?”). And it’s not like he didn’t torture himself over it, thoughts randomly popping up telling him what he could’ve or should’ve said or done. The regrets he had, no matter how minuscule they were, ate away at him when he had nothing else to think about. All because of a choice he made and a label he refused to give. What a way to self-sabotage.

Everything about you, from how you met to how easily your conversations flowed, was magnetic, pulling his thoughts (and him) towards you. The serendipity of it all was like he had been transported into one of those overly saccharine romantic comedy movies he would sometimes catch his mother watching. What was the term she had used once? A meet-cute?

The slight vibration of his phone in his pocket brought him back to his reality. A call from an unknown number. Usually, he would hang up, or at least ignore it. But he was in between clients, and more importantly, a little bored. So he answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Y/N. From the florist.” Andrew let out a sigh of relief at the sound of your voice. “That end of the world you were warning me about last time never happened, so I had enough time to finish your bouquet.”

He chuckled at that, a lighter sound than he intended.

“That’s fantastic. Both the world not ending and the bouquet being ready.”

“Is it alright if I swing by soon?

“Yeah. I’m on my lunch break in between clients, so I’m free.”

“Perfect. See you in…” you paused, which he surmised was you mentally calculating how long it would take you to get there before continuing, “about fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

He grimaced as you hung up the phone, and true to his word, he waited. His time was occupied with sketching a design for an appointment he had in a few weeks, Alex hanging around with him. Immediately, everything was put down when you walked in. Fifteen minutes later, just like you had told him, he heard the bell above the door ring. He watched as you opened the door, tightly gripping a vase containing the flowers, letting in a beam of sunlight with your entrance.

“I’ve got one order of a chrysanthemum arrangement for Andrew?” You announced, feigning not knowing who he was.

“Great, you're here. Let me take that off your hands.”

He rushed over and grabbed the bouquet from you, and in a moment he had to remember to thank the gods for later, his fingers brushed yours, making his heart rate spike so suddenly he almost had a medical issue.

God, he was pathetic.

“Thank you so much for this. You never fail to amaze me.”

“Of course. You can keep the vase, by the way. Free of charge.”

He looked down at you, his brows furrowed but a smile still on his face.

“You are physically incapable of not being nice to me, huh?”

“Please. I do this for all of my orders. You're not special,” you joked, and he scoffed in reply.

“Wow… and I thought we were friends!”

“I’m just humbling you a little. Besides, I can't let other customers think I have favorites. It's unprofessional.”

“Favorites? Plural? Do I have competition?”

“Yes. It's you and a little old lady that orders centerpieces for her dinner parties. Don't go beating her up for the top spot.”

A beat passed before a mischievous smirk came across your face.

“Though, I am a fan of a guy that would fight in my honor.”

Not being able to sense your tone, Andrew swiftly changed the topic, unsure and unwilling to think about how he'd throw a punch for you.

“So, you used flower language for this, right? What's it all mean?”

You smiled, and the way your face lit up gave him a rush, a sudden burst of butterflies in his stomach. He listened intently, despite his urges to focus on you and not the words you were saying.

“Alright, I’ll give you a quick rundown of the meanings. Chrysanthemums are joy, of course. There are some sunflowers, specifically dwarf sunflowers, because they represent pride, like how you’re proud of your work, hopefully. Orange roses for fascination. And last but not least, calla lilies for magnificence and beauty, like what you create here. Hopefully you and your colleagues like it.”

He couldn't help the incredulous laugh that cane at the end of your statement.

“Are you kidding me? It's beautiful. Of course I like it,” he reassured. You didn't verbally reply, but the new warmness of your features was all the response he needed.

He paid, making a comment along the way about how he almost left his wallet at home this morning, but caught himself: “I promise I’m not forgetful, just… all over the place.” You listened, seemingly actually invested, and took the money from him once he offered.

“Thank you. You are single-handedly keeping my small business afloat.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, both out of confusion and concern.

“Are you not doing well?”

“I mean, we're making sales, meeting the quotas we should be. Barely. But we're not exactly a hotspot anymore. It's not common for people to get flowers, and if they do they get cheap bouquets cheaply made at a grocery store or online. People these days don't bother to make an effort.”

He observed you as you thought for a moment, a pause only he could have read into. He could’ve sworn you looked him up and down, though his hopeful imagination could have tricked him. There was more optimism in your tone this time around.

“You do, though. Make an effort, I mean. I appreciate it. You might be the only guy I know that does.”

Your words were taken to heart, but he deflected your compliment, fearing he'd become too flustered if he let it linger.

“Is the bar truly that low?”

“That's not low! These days, finding a guy who tries is like winning the lottery.”

You barely gave him time to react before pulling out your phone, which had just vibrated in your pocket.He could already see the disappointment set into your features.

“Crap. I have to get back.”

He offered an understanding nod, knowing as much as he wished he could stay in this moment, reality had to set back in.

“I hate to say goodbye, but it was really nice to see you. And your place of work. Keep me posted on if the flowers help raise people’s spirits.”

“Goodbye. Parting is such sweet sorrow.”

“Quoting The Bard at me? So you’re an artist and a nerd. Full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I am. There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find out more soon enough. I’ll see you later.”

“Goodbye.”

The door closed behind you, leaving Andrew feeling a bit emptier now that you were no longer there. Finding the right time, Alex made his presence known again. Andrew was so focused on you he had almost forgotten he was in the room.

“So… that's the Y/N you keep talking about?”

“That's her.”

“The one you platonically took to a coffee shop?”

“The very same.”

Alex gave him a look: a squint accompanied by an oddly pensive expression, like he was trying to make the situation make sense.

“Is something the matter? Do… do you not approve?” Andrew asked. Alex replied slowly, cautiously.

“No, she seems wonderful. No complaints here. In fact, that’s the issue.”

“How so?"

“Maybe because you took a woman, an amazing one at that, on an outing that was a date in every aspect but its name. You essentially blocked yourself off from you two being romantic. It doesn’t make sense to me! How are you the same lad that would write love songs in college?”

“That was a decade ago! I’m more cautious now.”

“Oh, yeah. You're so cautious, in fact, that you started liking your florist. A woman that you've only met four times, including one time where you basically went on a date!”

Andrew felt a shame as if he had just been yelled at by a parent, though most of the sting came from the truth of his words. Only after he exhaled a deep sigh did Alex speak again.

“Listen, I don't mean to scold you. I’m only saying all this because I care about you. That being said, if you don't take this girl out sometime soon…”

“Alex!”

“I’m being serious! I was standing right there. I saw how you look at her and you're… enamored of the poor woman. If you don't do something about the way you feel— doesn't have to be soon, just eventually— then the only person that will regret it is you.”

Andrew gave a slow nod as he processed the other man's words. He hated how wise he could be sometimes.

“I… I need to find the right moment. I need to take my time.”

“Then take it. Just don't bottle up your emotions for too long. You don't handle it well. Plus, after a while of you blabbering on about the same person, it starts to get annoying.”

For the first time since you left, Andrew laughed, Alex joining in a moment afterwards.

“Alright,” he said, slapping a hand on Andrew's shoulder. “Let's get back to work.”

Andrew ruminated on his friend’s words on the drive home, his grip tightening on the wheel. As much as he hated to admit it, Alex was right; he did need to do something about what he felt for you. But he never did specify what.

It had been a while since he felt like this towards someone, so he wasn't lying when he said he needed to take his time. If he were to ever make a move on you, he would have to make sure he was certain. He didn't want to ruin your newly-labeled friendship, run the risk of throwing away something just starting, and something good. However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t use an alternative method to handle these feelings.

He stepped into his flat, and for the first time in recent memory it felt… empty. Not necessarily from the absence of friends or family, just absence. The empty seats at his table, on his couch, in his bed, they almost screamed at him. He had never realized that the silence of being alone was so deafening.

What better way to fill the silence than with music?

He got straight to work, his craving to create overriding any hunger for actual food he had. Despite his own better judgement, Andrew had written down the lyric he had absentmindedly created a few days ago in his phone. He considered continuing from there, but preferred to do things the old-fashioned way. So he grabbed a pen, sat down at his kitchen table, opened his notebook, and began to write.

I have never known peace like the damp grass that yields to me…

He hadn’t opened himself up to this creative vulnerability in so long, so he was admittedly a little rusty. Words were crossed out, rearranged, and substituted with synonyms if the amount of syllables didn’t fit the rhythm. Eventually, after he had eased into it, it felt no different from when he sketched a stencil or tattooed a client. Oddly enough, the more he wrote and the more effort he put in, the more the lines continued to blur until he felt just as comfortable as he did at his job. Whether it be a tattoo gun or a ballpoint pen, Andrew was always in his element when he had ink.

There was also the added factor of what inspired all of this fervor to write: you. You kickstarted something in his brain, subconsciously flipping a switch. that made him more musical. Before you he would turn on the radio or shuffle his Spotify and merely admire whatever song was playing, but after you came into his life, his thoughts strayed more towards you: I could write something like this. About her.

Should he consider you his muse? He’d decide later on.

Time slipped away from him, to the point that he was shocked to look at the clock and find less than an hour had passed.

One last similarity between the two was discovered. He harbored a similar sense of pride after he had finished— or, more accurately, stopped himself after writing a verse and a chorus. Not a finished verse and chorus either, simply a rough draft to remind him how to get back into the mindset.

The only difference was the audience, or lack thereof. There was no way Andrew was letting anyone see this or even know about it. He would maybe, maybe, consider showing you one day. Even then, he could only imagine he’d want to shrivel up in a corner as you read it, or God forbid, as he sang it to you. He couldn’t dare to think about that now, even though the guitar resting against the wall in his bedroom was almost calling his name. He had to leave it there for now. He could barely handle writing for the day, let alone singing and playing. For now, he was taking baby steps.

Even if he could muster up the courage, there was no chance anything he wrote would be leaving the eyes of his friends and family. He was no poet, and no star. He already had a job that let him express himself and make meaningful pieces of art. For that, he was grateful. He could be happy with keeping the songs for himself, writing for only his own eyes, and letting what he created at his job be for the whole world.

The notebook — funny how such a small object now held a power over him — was closed and stuffed in an empty shelf space in his closet, an attempt at keeping it out of sight and out of mind. His attempt was semi-successful considering every step of the rest of his day was accompanied by the thought of it. Not the shame, just the knowledge of knowing he had written something. The shock of actually having the strength. It stuck with him until he went to bed that night, not even nearing sleep being able to offer him solace. He tossed and turned well into nightfall, until it got to the point that he was getting restless. And desperate. So he picked up his phone. To avoid simply doomscrolling until his eyes began to flutter, he found some website that detailed flower language and started to read.

He willingly went down a rabbit hole, keeping a separate tab open to search for flora he didn't recognize by name. He made mental notes of meanings he found particularly interesting. The last flower he read of before falling asleep was the poppy. It meant eternal slumber, coincidentally what he was longing for at the moment, but also imagination. It was almost perfect how poppies represented the day he had. This was his last coherent thought before he drifted off.

There was a third definition, one that also summarized his day, that Andrew’s eyes didn't stay open to read.

Oblivion.

[marsborne]

Untold Weight - Pinocchio x f!Reader

After the events that happened at Arche Abbey, Pinocchio is left to think about all that has happened. The thoughts that run around in his head are not very pleasant.

Set after the Rise of P ending

- warnings: sad pino at the beginning

- word count: 1.6k

AU where Antonia lives

It’s been a few days since Pinocchio returned from the Isle of Alchemists with Sophia, and ever since, unease seemed to settle over him like a shadow. He’d shared everything with you—every trial he faced, from his battles against countless enemies to his fight with Laxasia, and even his confrontation with Simon. His silver hair, gleaming softly in the moonlight, a sort of proof of setting Sophia free and her being with him until the very end. She was happy now, radiantly so, and yet…something lingered.

He told you about Geppetto. About the Nameless Puppet. About Carlo. About his own heart.

When he returned, it was you he sought out first.

He found you in the library of Hotel Krat. There were no words, only action. He wrapped you in an embrace so tight, so full of sorrow, it felt like he was holding onto you for dear life, afraid you might slip through his fingers just like his maker.

He didn’t know what to think. His father—his creator, the man he had idolized and obeyed without question, had spoken such hateful words. Yet, he had shed tears for him.

Tears for a monster of a man.

And still, those final words haunted him.

"I’m sorry, son."

They echoed in his mind, turning over and over like the mechanisms in his chest. The more he thought about them, the more he believed they weren’t meant for him at all, but for Carlo.

Everyone at the hotel noticed the shift in him. Some more than others. It was Antonia who noticed first.

She called for him one day. Life at the hotel had started to mend—rooms restored, halls repaired, the echoes of despair replaced by the tentative whispers of hope.

He sat on a stool by the piano in the library, his elbows resting on his knees, his silver hair falling like a curtain to hide his face. Across from him, Antonia sat in her wheelchair, her gaze warm with quiet understanding.

He told her everything.

Antonia, who had loved Geppetto and Carlo so dearly, found her heart twisting in ways she hadn’t expected. She had never imagined this of Geppetto, the man she once held in such high esteem. Carlo was gone, but her love for the boy remained steadfast. Yet, in the time she had come to know Pinocchio, her affection for him had grown just as strong. In many ways, she saw him as a son.

But there was another weight Pinocchio carried, one he couldn’t voice so easily.

He worried about what you might think of him now.

His father’s words had cut deep, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t silence them. He was just a puppet. Nothing more.

But oh, if only he could see himself through your eyes.

Antonia saw it too.

“Oh, dear child. That girl holds you so very dear—more than you probably know. Don’t think I didn’t notice how she looks at you, from the very first day you arrived here. I may have been ill, but I wasn’t blind,” she said with a soft chuckle. “Talk to her and see for yourself. She has a pure heart, and she loves you truly. She would never discard you, just because you’re not made of flesh and blood.”

Her words stayed with him, echoing in his mind, until finally, he found the courage to come to your door.

You had been worried sick. For days, he had barely spoken to anyone, least of all you.

When you opened the door, his gaze remained fixed on the floor, unable to meet yours. You could see the weight he carried, feel it in the air between you. You knew what had happened—everyone did. You couldn’t claim to understand his pain. You didn’t, and you never would.

But you had resolved to be there for him, through it all.

He stood before you in his simple white shirt and dark pants, a picture of vulnerability. You stepped closer, your hands reaching up to cradle his freckled cheeks, gently lifting his face so you could meet his eyes.

His eyes shimmered—not with the polished quality of their craftsmanship, but with unshed tears.

“Pino, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

It was a silly question. You knew what was wrong.

He said nothing, only wrapped his arms around you. Carefully, always carefully with his Legion arm. He buried his face in your shoulder, silent tears soaking into your shirt.

Your heart ached. You held him close, your fingers threading through his silver hair, offering comfort in the only way you could. For a while, the room was quiet, save for the soft ticking of his mechanisms and the steady beat of his heart. Then, finally, you spoke.

“You are enough.”

He froze. For a moment, even his gears seemed to halt. Slowly, he pulled back, his face a mix of surprise and something else—something raw.

“…What?”

“You are enough, Pinocchio.”

And just like that, he broke.

He kissed you with an intensity that stole the air from your lungs, his lips pressing against yours with a fervor that felt like a plea and a promise all at once. His hands moved with a careful kind of desperation—one resting on your back, pulling you closer, as if he could fuse you together and never let go. The other found its way into your hair, his fingers threading through the strands as though seeking solace in their softness.

It was not a kiss of hesitation or doubt—it was everything he couldn’t put into words. His fears, his sorrows, his love for you—all of it poured out in a torrent, raw and unrestrained.

For a moment, you were stunned, caught off guard by the sheer weight of his emotion. But then, like the tide rushing to meet the shore, you responded without hesitation.

Your hands found their place, one on his cheek and the other curling around his neck, pulling him even closer. The heat of the moment wrapped around you both like a cocoon, shielding you from the outside world. You kissed him back with everything you had, pouring every ounce of love, every whispered promise, and every silent vow into the connection between you.

His lips moved against yours with a mix of urgency and tenderness, as though trying to memorize every detail of this moment. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss, and you felt a soft, shaky sigh escape him. The hand in your hair tightened just a fraction, his thumb brushing against your temple in a touch so reverent it made your heart ache.

Your senses were overwhelmed by him—the faint metallic tang of his scent, the warmth of his touch, the rhythmic ticking of his mechanisms mingling with the steady beat of his heart. It was a symphony of contrasts, both human and mechanic, and it was him.

When you finally broke apart, it wasn’t from a lack of desire but the need for air. His forehead pressed against yours, his silver hair falling between you like a shimmering curtain. His breaths came in soft, uneven gasps, mingling with yours in the quiet space between you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You simply looked at each other, his glossy eyes searching yours as if trying to confirm that this was real, that you were here, and that you loved him as fiercely as he loved you.

And you did.

Without a word, your thumb brushed against his freckled cheek, a silent reassurance that you weren’t going anywhere. His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, and in that instant, you knew. No matter the hardships you faced, no matter the doubts that plagued him, you would face them by his side.

---

An hour later, you lay together on your bed. Pinocchio rested his head on your chest, his arms wrapped securely around your torso. The steady rhythm of your heartbeat was his anchor, grounding him in a world that often felt too overwhelming.

Your fingers played idly with strands of his silver hair, curling them around your fingertips as you stared at the ceiling.

For Pinocchio, this moment felt like heaven.

The thought came to him suddenly, yet it rooted itself deeply.

He thought of Julian, the gentleman who had entrusted him with his wife’s most cherished possession. Their wedding ring. His owrds rang in his head.

"Please remember the love Melody and I shared. Who knows? Maybe you'll find true love one day, too."

He thought of Polendina and the love he so clearly felt for Antonia—a love so pure and steadfast it seemed to transcend everything.

And then, he thought of you.

He adored you. Completely and utterly.

“I want to marry you,” he said, breaking the silence.

Your fingers stilled. Your heart skipped a beat, and he felt it beneath his ear.

“I…what?”

“I want you to be my wife,” he said, his voice soft but steady.

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly.

Now he lifted his head, propping himself up on his arms. His silver hair framed his face, strands brushing your cheeks like a veil between you and the rest of the world. Your face burned crimson, and he chuckled softly, a flicker of mischief breaking through his seriousness.

“You’re not…proposing to me right now, are you?”

He faltered, guilt flashing across his face as he began to sit up. But before he could pull away, you grabbed his face, pressing a kiss to his freckled forehead and tucking a few silver strands behind his ear.

“I’m not complaining,” you said with a soft smile. “And I want you to be my husband as well”

For a moment, he looked as though he might short circuit entirely.

Little did you know, the residents of Hotel Krat had already begun planning your wedding long before either of you realized you wanted one.

Heyy so school started and I'm not okay with that

Anyways I finished ng+ and immediately started ng+2 and my brain slapped me with this idea

I put my whole nervous system and brain power into that kissing scene I hope it's alright-

Also that ending was so random I felt the need to add that

[abyss-seer]

Pick A Card Reading

Before that here's a channeled song for collective.

What change is radically transforming your life?

Welcome to today's tarot reading! I always find tarot readings enjoyable, like reading chapters from a fascinating book. Before we dive in, let's set the scene and align with today's reading. Remember, this is a timeless read, so the messages can apply whenever you come across this post.

To start, take a moment to meditate on the question, and then choose the picture that draws you in. It could be a random object in the image or just an inner nudge guiding you to a particular pile. Feel free to choose more than one pile.

This is a general reading, so take only the messages that resonate with you and leave the rest. A tarot reading offers insight or answers to your subconscious questions. It's important not to force yourself into any interpretation that doesn't feel right; readings are meant to be more about entertainment and reflection than precision.

Be mindful of not taking things personally. This is a collective reading, and while some aspects might resonate with you, others may resonate with someone else. Please take your time with this reading. These messages are intended to awaken and provide insights, so I hope you find value in them. Enjoy the journey through these reads.

With Love

Abyss Seer

Pile 1

Pile 2

Pile 3

Pile 4

________________________

Readings are here 👇🏻

Pile 1

Conformations: Stork and fox and the soup bowl story, the forked road, straight bangs, messy hair, song named Hum pagal nhi hai bhaiyaa hamara dimag kharab hai, family and parents could be significant, dead fish, being eccentric, not fit in, standing out too much in the crowd

Something in your life could be changing to move you toward a specific goal. You might be shaping into the person who attracts that long-desired opportunity or gaining access to something you've always wanted. Pile 1, there’s something you've been dreaming of for a long time—possibly a long-awaited family dream you've been on a mission to fulfill.

I'm sensing Magha nakshatra themes: maybe someone being granted access to a family business or finally receiving their share of an inheritance. You might be leading a new line or school of thought with your family members. It was your dream to see this idea come to fruition, perhaps through market success, new investors, or business registration. It feels like one family approving another.

You've likely struggled with this issue for a long time, but now you see the success of your efforts. This achievement could be very emotional for you, bringing laurels and affection from loved ones. You may have felt stuck, unable to find love or support from your loved ones. Now, I see you taking swift action toward this long-term dream. Pile 1, good luck!

________________________

Pile 2

Confirmation: tongue twister she sells seashells on the seashore, Karla, Sarah, Coraline the horror movie, love and hate relationship, someone could refer someone as bitch and may get called back as a scum, take them with you (you could be asked to not hold grudges and take people with you, but at the same time don’t dull your own shine)

You might consider watching Pile 3 as well only if you feel called to it. There's something you've been delaying for a long time, Pile 2. Did you miss an opportunity or freedom to do something? You might be very goal-oriented, but there's some pessimism or fear of failure causing you to deviate from your goals. This could be a past pattern or bad habit repeating itself due to your current state of mind. There might be lingering anxiety about starting a new endeavor, leading to procrastination and worry about committing to new habits.

Celebrate your small achievements and start thinking positively by targeting negative thoughts and changing your thinking pattern. This cycle of self-sabotage is harmful. Avoid dwelling on those negative thoughts. Do well in life, Pile 2. You might be moving away from new friendships and people, disliking mingling with them. You could be trying to go solo to achieve your goals, leaving everything behind for yourself.

You might feel misunderstood, underappreciated, and isolated, perhaps feeling someone stole your credit. This could lead to a sense of worthlessness due to your own selflessness. I'm sorry for what you went through. Know that you deserve better friends and people around you. This might be why you want to distance yourself from new people. I'm seeing a strong feeling of self-preservation, Pile 2. Don't worry, work hard, and people will appreciate your efforts. Focus less on fair-weather friends and more on yourself. Take care, Pile 2. I feel for you and am sorry if that happened.

________________________

Pile 3

Confirmation: Paon ki jutti (song), Sydney Sweeney, number 333, 33, foundations, Anuradha nakshatra, someone from your past,1212, Australia

"Disrespect"—some female figure feels disrespected. This is anger channeled into radicalization, literally. The Hawaiian goddess of sacred rage, Pele, is coming through. There’s a mother figure in this pile who feels hugely disrespected, abused, and is doubting her faith and duty towards the collective. This is a very radical energy. " They are becoming more agnostic after whatever has transpired". They are hating and thinking how you have lost your faith in yourself after failing so many times.

Pile 3, you are someone agnostic, and you could be in danger of crossing this empress-like figure in the wake of her rage. This person could get furious at your heartache, the pressure you're feeling, and the fear of moving forward. You can trigger them, so be careful. This empress could be getting over a huge loss in life, an investment, a semester that went down the drain, or some trigger due to "Sweet Home Sydney" (a restaurant). Be careful dealing with this mother figure they might not be in the mood to be teased, she must have lost her assets because of your failures.

You could be moving on from a heartbreaking and stressful situation and trying to get your life together. You think that you are bringing your life to balance using sharp tools(im getting someone cutting their nerves) (even a sharp tongue if necessary). You could be determined to restore balance of mind through chaos. Pile3 they are coming to pull you out of this rut and you are trying to get rid of them. This awakening and rebirth could be due to their investment drowning because of you. This is an unforgiving energy. They might feel very cold to you at start but this all for your good

This grounded person may not be in

the mood for fantasy.. Pile 3, your awakening moment is this woman who doesn't want to see you slacking off. She has been carrying many burdens, and this could be someone you collaborate with at work. She could get very angry with you, Pile 3. You need to stop staying stuck in your head. You might have taken a new start without preparing for the consequences and are still moving on, carrying emotional burdens. This will get you back on track. Whoever this female is, she might be a strict mother figure, but she will get you back on track. She will dish it out very straightforwardly. There's no going back; you better start working hard.

________________________

Pile 4

Confirmations: 99, September, number 5 could be significant, 1313, Yee haa, cowboy, the west, Madison beer- make you mine, Flo Rida – Right Round,1616

"There's no power left in thy hand." Let me tell you something: if you take anything from someone, make sure to give them something in return or return what you took in due time. This is called borrowing. In life, nothing is taken without giving something back. This is the main motto of your reading. You may have borrowed or taken money or assets, become stingy with that money, and are not ready to give back. You could be basking in others' achievements and material gains to fund your own independence and freedom. But none of this was guaranteed for free. Be grateful for what you got for the limited time and give back.

Your mind is stuck in the thoughts of comfort without pain. Get out of this mindset. You might lose a lot in life due to fights and competitions, developing a loser’s mindset, thinking nothing is meant for you. This could lead you to take a wrong path you will regret in the long run. It's a survivor mindset, trying to run away when things get rough. Maybe there was a time you couldn’t run to safety, and now you have a survival instinct to run irrationally without seeing things clearly because you feel you cannot face the challenge. Remove that guilt. What has happened has happened. Accept your regrets for what you could not do to save yourself.

Don’t miss opportunities because of being stuck in your feelings. Use your rationality to get ahead in life. Stop wallowing in emotions. Get out of this emotional cycle and traumatic pattern. Your payback time is coming. The phrase "every dog has its day" comes to mind. You might have received an opportunity given with trust that you would return it tenfold, but you felt you didn’t deserve it. Anxiety hit when you first took it. You weren’t capable of receiving it because of a lack mindset. Then you were attacked by fake friends and your own self-hatred. You fumbled opportunities meant to move you forward.

The change that will transform your life is moving away from this toxic community. Let go of reasons to stay in a place you thought was good for you. Let go of what is not serving you. Look forward to results from your efforts and hard work. Move toward self-love and self-care, letting go of thoughts, ideas, and emotional pain from others. Proceed in life learning new skills, unafraid to express yourself and your beliefs. You are coming to balance, losing the lack and hoarding mindset, becoming more authentic. Heal yourself, learn to care for yourself, and turn controlling tendencies into self-discipline. Become a more balanced individual

[mynameismckenziemae]

Hey girl! I saw your post yesterday about feeling a bit uninspired, so I completely understand if you’re not up for answering this at the moment. But I’ve been really curious about something and thought I’d ask anyway—if you're up for it! If you aren't feeling it feel free to ignore it.

I’ve been wondering how Jake, Bradley, and Bob would each react if they saw another guy flirting with their partner. Or maybe there's a guy you're close to...that kind of thing. Are they the jealous type? Do they get possessive, or would they stay cool about it? I’d love to hear your take on this

Thanks for all the amazing content you share, I always love reading your takes on the characters!

Asks usually spark some inspo so I really appreciate when people send them in! Thank you!

Bob is too much of a sweetheart for you to even want to flirt with another guy to rile him up. So when you’re approached by another man at the bar, you’re oblivious to his advances. Bob just smiles as he watches the scene unfold, and can’t help but laugh at the guy’s disgruntled look when you walk back over with your free drink. Now flirting with Natasha to rile him up is a different story…

Bradley doesn’t really care if you flirt with other guys either. He knows it’s in your nature to be friendly. Unless it’s Jake. Nothing turns him into a possessive caveman like when you turn the charm onto Jake. He loves hates the way you laugh at his stupid jokes, the way he calls you “darlin’”, the way you pinch his dimpled cheek and squeeze his stupidly big biceps. Bradley carried you out of the bar over his shoulder the first time it happened and you can’t walk (or sit) properly for days.

So I think Jake actually likes when you flirt with other men especially Bradley. We all know he’s got a submissive streak a mile wide and has a thing for cuckholding; the humiliation gets him hot like nothing else. Bradley’s also the first and only man he lets fuck you.

[bluestsdays]

while tonight hasn’t shed too much light on what exactly they were or where they were going, it did prove that they could still partake in moments like this one; fleeting, wondrous moments that reaffirm just how strong of a connection they share. the lack of clarity might not fare well in the long run, but for right now, she’s just thankful they’re no longer at each other’s throats, saying things they didn’t mean, allowing jealousy to hijack all their thoughts and emotions, lashing out in turn. but she could do this, she thinks, she could be whatever he needed her to be, whenever he needed her— just for more of this, more of him and them together, even if it wasn’t exactly how it used to be. whatever piece he was willing to give her, she would accept, wholeheartedly. and maybe it wasn’t healthy, nor did she think it would please the others in their life, but she couldn’t deny this, couldn’t deny how badly she still needed him in her life. and it’s nice to hear that it’s reciprocated, that he, too, hasn’t gone a day without wishing they were together, wanting her by his side just like she wanted him, too. she didn’t know what lay ahead for them, but fuck, she knew she would do anything to see him smile again and again like he is right now. it forces a smile upon her own lips, letting out a soft chuckle. “ no, i don’t want you to keep your mouth shut, because that would suck for me, just… try and be less hot, yeah ? seriously, that should be your resolution. i know that’s gonna be like, borderline impossible for you, but just try, please, for my self control’s sake, ” she teases in return, breath stuttering slightly as he pulls her hand into his own, fingers now interlaced as they slowly but surely continue to close the distance between them, just like always they never could stay apart for long, even in the aftermath of such a strained evening. electricity shoots up through her fingers at his touch, traveling up her arm, then all the way down to the base of her spine where it pools, leaving her warm and buzzing with something that feels like anticipation. and she knows they shouldn’t do this, that they’re falling back into familiar patterns, that she should be concerned with whether or not her boyfriend really was freaking out inside, but she can’t help it— not when he moves closer, when she looks up at him and sees everything she’s ever wanted, every dream she’s ever had, looking back at her. “ mm, yeah, no, you do not need to hear my unfiltered thoughts right now. ” she says, quietly. and she can feel his gaze on her lips, only because her gaze traces his, too, teeth sinking into her lower lip as she witnesses his fingertips splay across the bone of her hip, stifling a shiver. 3, 2, 1… and her free hand finds the curve of his jaw just as the shouts of happy new year ring out from inside. and there’s no fighting it, how she leans in to capture his lips with her own, fireworks exploding beneath her skin, reminded of the last time they were intertwined like this, just a few weeks ago. still, she’s attempting to transmit all the hope and love and longing she still feels for him into the kiss, to subconsciously tell him that this wasn’t over for her, that it wouldn’t ever be over, no matter how many new years come and go.

where did they go from here? he didn’t have an answer for that. now that he thinks about it, he never has. all they’ve been doing is taking it day-by-day, doing whatever they could within their power to just figure it out. neither were perfect at it, in fact, miller’s been entirely flawed in this process, clinging to whatever remnants were still between them, no matter how crumbled and shattered they had become. it’s better than not trying, he thinks— to have allowed the physical distance, the pain of seeing her with someone else, get the better of him. would rather fight everyday, tooth and nail, to remain in her life, if that’s where she wanted him. he would do anything she asked. and of course he wishes this had all been different for them; that he’d found a job locally, instead, that he’d fought harder when she insisted that he just go, aim to reach dreams that came to fruition, that only ever felt possible, because of her. it wasn’t the cards they’d been dealt, though, and that’s a painful truth he’ll always have to live with, the ache if it radiating in his chest, cracking his ribcage. at least, now, they were both willing to make this work, as best they could, no matter how confusing, how difficult, it’s all become. that’s why there’s relief twining into the smile that tugs at his mouth— at least they had this, here, time spent together, grounding them in a moment that will soon be lost. “ i always want you around, too— there’s never been a day when that hasn’t been in the case. ” there never would be, either. and even if his desires run much deeper than that, even if he isn’t entirely sure he can only be her friend, he chooses not to speak on it, knowing how much damage he’s already done, tonight. “ and i’ll try to not make things too hard on you, hm? even if i can’t help it… not sure what you want me to do when it comes to just standing, but i’ll do it. i’ll even learn to keep my mouth shut— maybe they can be my new year’s resolutions. ” he teases, corners of his mouth only lifting until it’s a full-pledged grin, across his countenance. it’s safe here, again, this space between them, which only emboldens him all the more, turning his hand until he can lace their fingers together, feeling the jolts of electricity that course between them. “ i happen to like your unfiltered thoughts, though, ” even if they’re hard to hear. “ actually, maybe that should be one of your resolutions; think i want to hear more of them. ” because this streak of honesty, as difficult as it has been to hear, at least meant he knew where they stood. and he hears it at the same time she does, the echoes of voices inside, counting down to the start of a new year. it cuts him off from saying that he always wants her, always has, and he doesn’t know if that’ll ever go away. he doesn’t make any effort to move from this spot, though, gaze soft, knowing, as he traces the contours of her face, all the parts of her that he has memorised. “ yeah, we probably should… fletcher will be looking for you too, right? probably freaking out that he’s lost sight of you. ” his words aren’t bitter either, the strain of their night dissipating with each moment that passes. his gaze ends up at her lips eventually, drawing around their outline, a small step closer without thinking twice about it, free hand reaching for her hip, fingers splayed along it’s most prominent part, 3, 2, 1…

[mando-din-lorian]

I love me Star Wars time travel shenangians and I am absolutely giggling at the idea of Din going back in time and being, like, an expert in Yoda behavior and antics.

He’s spent so much time with Grogu, he picked up on things that seem to be natural for the species that perfectly align with Yoda.

He knows that they’re a carnivorous, and while they have sharp teeth to cut into meat, they typically swallow their food whole. He knows they like small prey, something usually slimy as it’s easier to swallow, and that food is important to them (as their species burn a lot of energy despite being small - my personal headcanon is that it’s because they’re so naturally in-tune with the force and use it more to often for basic living, thus it takes a lot to replenish that energy); offering food is like showing them off that they’ll be safe and well-fed with you, so when Din offers Yoda a raw, slimy eel as an offering of good-intent, everyone is absolutely baffled, disgusted, and enthralled when Yoda just swallows that mucus-covered atrocity whole and pats his legs, and they’re basically besties now

Din knows that they’re incredibly perceptive to sound due to their large ears, and thus speaks soft and quiet (or, you know, his natural way of speaking 😂) when talking with Yoda. He also knows that it’s easy for them to get ear infections, especially if they get a lot of water or wax-build-up in their ears, so any time after a mission in the rain, or in water, Din offers Yoda space-ear-wax cleaner and Yoda is like knows how to treat a person, this bitch does

And he just ends up getting along so well with Yoda and does things no one even considered to be Yoda thing (because Yoda is a maniac and likes to watch people bask in the confusion of his antics) that it’s just baffling. They don’t know what to do. How the fuck. What the fuck. They’re absolutely baffled, bamboozled, and bewilderment

To summarize, Din is Yoda’s homie and they have brunch every Friday and Din is more than comfortable with Yoda perching on his shoulder because their species likes having the higher ground

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[teammelodies]

I'd like to share an idea I had for a genocide starlo fight

So Clover walks into the wild east (picking up the wild revolver on the way), and the usual duel plays out with starlo

Except... Ceroba arrives as Clover readies their gun.

Seeing her friend in trouble, she runs over to protect starlo, but as she's about to summon the shield with her staff, she's hit.

She drops her staff and falls back into starlo's arms, where the two have a moment to say goodbye before ceroba turns to dust.

Starlo takes a moment.

He just wanted to feel cool for a moment, hoping it'd buy time to evacuate everyone else, even if he'd die in the process.

And ceroba, his best friend, played the price.

Starlo picks up the staff, tears running down his face, he pulls out his *real* gun.

"All I wanted was a fair fight. But you know what?"

[relicsongmel]

The Hawthorne twins suffered more than Jesus

[bellamyroselia]

I've recently been thinking of how some of the missing Olympian gods could be adapted for future Kid Icarus games and in Poseidon's case he could be expanded upon, so I decided to dump some of my abridged thoughts about them here. Turned out I still had lot of things to say, but in general these thoughts are about what I think these gods could do and why it's possible, along with what kind of relationships they could have with the already existing KI-cast. Considering the subject matter, expect to see mythology-typical mind-fuckery and the words "motive failure" a lot - not only are these people extremely unhinged, in many myths the gods take the "fuck around and find out" approach way too literally.

To see this on its entirety, go here.

Starting with Hestia, she has a bad case of motive failure. Like what are you supposed to do with her? You can count her major mythological appearances on one hand, and even in those she doesn’t do much. It does also make imagining what kind of relationships she could have with the existing cast hard; none of Hestia's relationships are all that developed to begin with, but the ones she has with her siblings are those that get most focus… So that only really leaves Hades, Poseidon and maybe Viridi? Not much to work with, and I can’t really imagine those relationships being anything else but positive. Sure, they may disagree of some things, but overall they get along with each other. The most interesting thing about Hestia’s possible relationships is that I could actually see Dark Pit liking her due to her nice and unproblematic nature. It does leave plot potential pretty minimal though, but I could see writers using some legends about Vestal virgins as bases for plotlines where Hestia shows up as a supporting side character. The problem with those is that they tend to be pretty specific, so who knows how well they might actually work. “Arx tarpeia Capitoli proxima” makes a good moral but not much of a plotline if you divorce it from... Well, Tarpeia herself. Another possibility is that Pit’s sent to defend a place that had its sacred flame extinguished and he has to defeat the culprit behind that.

Artemis also suffers from motive failure. She may be a bringer of sudden death and disease along with being a serious contender for the title of the most wrathful Olympian, but… She’s so petty with it? Much of it is very small-scaled all things considered. Most things she does don’t have long-term consequences, and the few that do are quickly hijacked by other deities whose actions have bigger impacts to the myths in question. Like yeah, Artemis may have told Agamemnon to kill his daughter if he wants to set sails to Troy, but who cares when Apollo is inflicting the Greeks with a plague and Athena is ignoring the pleads of Trojan women. This being said, I could see her being used as an unfought antagonist for a chapter or two depending on what she does (something akin to her sending the Calydonian boar to terrorize Calydon could work), though that story ends the moment the threat is dealt with. I however wouldn’t cross out the possibility of her appearing as an ally out, though I’m not sure what she could offer to Pit and co. if that was the case as she’s not really a god of anything that could help Pit on his journey. And I honestly don’t see her having particularly positive relationships with anyone in the already existing cast - she may not dislike any of them, but she doesn’t really like them either. She’s a true neutral in that sense, which could possibly earn her Dark Pit’s respect. How long that’s going to last is a completely different matter though, it may be small-scaled put she’s still very wrath-happy person.

Have some more motive failure with Hermes, though this time it has everything to do with him being a rather hard character to utilize in a world without Zeus - because of the rating he’s not allowed to be horndog making more of himself and since Zeus isn’t there asking him to do things, it leaves him with next to nothing to do. He’s extremely loyal to Zeus and this loyalty is exclusive to him; while Hermes clearly loves the rest of his family, he wouldn’t do half of the things he does for his father for them… And boy, has he done lot of things for his father. He’s a big daddy’s boy and daddy simply can't be replaced because Hermes just doesn’t love many people in the same unconditional way he loves his father - this means he’d have to be an independent figure, since the only person he’d be a lackey for is out of the picture. Now Hermes does have some interesting figures connected to him, like his son Autolycus (shapeshifting thief and the maternal grandfather of both Jason and Odysseus, whose name literally means “the wolf itself”) and the goddess of persuasion Peitho who’s described as his wife on occasion, but I’m not sure how any of that could be utilized. Autolycus possibly could've had some potential as a recurring character if he wasn’t dead by old age, but who knows, maybe he did get deified and therefore became an immortal in the world of Kid Icarus. I mean, Medusa is just a sea daemon and a dead one of that in the myths so why not let Autolycus to become a god. But back to Hermes, what I think of his possible relationships with already existing characters? They’re likely positive overall and I can see him appreciating both Pits for their spunk, but I think that the most potential comes from different minor antagonists, like Thanatos, Phosphora and Pandora. In case of the last one, Hermes was the one who gave Pandora her personality so there's that. Into the two former ones, Hermes is a psychopomp which means that he guided spirits to afterlife and he was everyone’s preferred psychopomp. Only person who wasn’t happy to see him in this duty was Sisyphus (Ares freed Thanatos after he had been captured by Sisyphus and brought them both back to Underworld → Sisyphus sweet talks Persephone into letting him go for a short period of time → Sisyphus refuses to return and Thanatos refuses to try bringing him back, so Hermes drags him to Underworld), so one could argue that Hermes is better at doing Thanatos’ job than he is - the fact that the Sisyphus-myth is one of Thanatos’ only major mythological appearances doesn’t exactly help him in this situation. One could get some funny dialogue out of that. With Phosphora, her Japanese name is derived from Electra, who’s the younger sister of Hermes’ mother Maia. For some additional hilarity, Maia and Electra are both elder sisters of Merope, Sisyphus’ wife. Everything about the possibility of having Hermes, Phosphora and Thanatos interact smells like a comedy goldmine to me. But let’s be real, isn’t it weird that Hermes has never been a merchant in any KI-game? It’s so goddamn absurd considering how he’s the god of commerce! You’d think he would’ve been the first choice for that, but apparently not! That’s a one big missed opportunity!

Hera too has a case of motive failure, but the reasons behind it are pretty simple. First is the same as with Hermes, which is that Hera doesn’t get to do much in a world without Zeus; can't be angry about your husband being unfaithful to you when your husband isn’t around. The second reason is equally simple, it being that Hera likes Athena. In fact she probably loves Athena more than she loves Ares, Hephaestus and Eileithyia (aka Lucina) combined (her love for Athena and Hebe is probably around the equal level and if it’s in someone’s favor, it’s Hebe’s), so toss away all the possibilities of her being a villainous force. It wouldn’t really make sense considering how Palutena is mostly Athena-inspired character. The two goddesses are pretty much partners in crime and by crime I literally mean “Let’s try to overthrow Zeus with Poseidon and Apollo” and “Let’s be the only deities to celebrate Troy’s destruction” levels of things, having each others backs whenever something happens so I think it would be better to just let Palutena have a good relationship with her. With Pit things probably would get a tad more confusing depending on some other factors, but on a vacuum it’s hard to say anything about them. Regardless of those I think she and Dark Pit would have a pretty rocky relationship, as Hera along with her favorite stepdaughter and Aphrodite were some of the biggest menaces to society when Zeus was still in the picture… All roads may not lead to Rome, but many do lead to a scorned goddess, a nosey goddess or to an easily angered goddess.