#i dropped something and it broke (and it was okay)

[rikiislvr]

unavailable . 4 - nishimura riki

pairing: afab!reader x nishimura riki

summary: fresh out a relationship with a heavy heart, niki seeks comfort in his best friend, not knowing you were falling for him

warnings: cussing

ps. read part 1-3 (on my page) if you’d like :)

after he left, you decided to leave too. you couldn’t go home since you were ditching, so you decided to stop by a nearby convenience store to get snacks.

before you could even step a foot inside the store, you were stopped at the sight of niki and ivy, standing in front of each other on the sidewalk, talking but you were too far away to hear what it was about.

you hid behind the side of the store, watching from pure curiosity, but.. whatever they were talking about, led to niki leaning down and pressing a kiss on her forehead, ivy smiled up at him and giggled before grabbing his hand as they ran down the street together.

you weren’t sure why your heart began to ache. maybe it was a good.. reasoning on why they’re.. happy together again?

you brush it off and slowly walked into the store to grab something to snack on until you can go home. but you couldn’t stop wondering.. what was that about? and was he gonna tell you?

-

the next day you walk into school, you don’t see niki in his usual spot, beside your locker waiting for you, you sigh and open your locker, being jolted from tickling hands on your sides,

you turn around to be faced with niki, “did i scare you?” he teases, you didn’t reply and turned back to your locker, “uh yeah..” you nod slowly, he tilt his head “you okay?” he asks, you close your locker and sigh,

“mhm!” you shot a fake smile before walking away, niki followed you, “you’re acting odd, what’s wrong?” he grabbed your shoulder making you stop, you look up at him and sigh,

“you’re back with ivy?” you say, his face dropped softly, “right um… yeah- i am.” he ran his fingers through his hair, you just blinked up at him, needing more of an answer.

“she’s in a really bad place and, i just feel really bad, she needs someone to rely on, you know?” he explained, you didn’t really understand it, but as his best friend, you have to be supportive…

“okay..” you shrug it off, “you understand right?” he says, you just nod before walking to your class, niki watched you and sighed, rubbing his neck.

he knew it was the bad decision getting back with ivy, but when he found her crying yesterday after he left the park over some of her family issues, he couldn’t deny the fact he still had care for her, he just didn’t want you to think he was overlooking how much you’ve helped him.

because you did help him a lot the night she broke up with him, but he couldn’t lie he wanted to be with her again, so he didn’t take up the opportunity.

he just hoped you’d understand somehow..

-

you’ve had the craziest headache all day in class, you finally got the last bell of the day and left the classroom immediately, all the work + the thoughts of niki being back with ivy was taking over your head.

why did you even care so much? it wasn’t your relationship or your business so who cares? why was this taking such a big toll on you?

you sigh and walked out the school with your head down,

“y/n!” you heard someone call you from behind, you turn around, seeing ivy, who was holding hands with niki, she smiled and motioned for you to come over..

what did she possibly want from you?

you groan and walked over, putting on a fake smile, “me and niki are gonna go get sushi, wanna come with?” she smiled at you, you turn to niki, who was looking at you, you could sense the guilt in his expression, “sure.” you shrug,

ivy giggled and grabbed your arm with her free hand as she pulled you guys to walk to the nearby sushi restaurant.

as you three walked, ivy rambled about her day, you look up past her to see niki, who was smiling at every word ivy said,

you felt very uncomfortable.. gosh, why did you even say yes? you just felt like a third wheel right now. why would ivy invite you in the first place?

you get to the restaurant and walked in, you guys sat in a booth, niki next to ivy, and you across from them, you tap the table awkwardly and looked out the window, ivy must’ve noticed your awkwardness and tapped your arm,

“so, where’s your boyfriend?” she asks, you clear your throat. “i don’t have one.” you nod, she gasps, “oh that’s a bummer! you’re pretty.” she shrugged, “thanks.” you nod, for some reason this was throwing you off…

you turn to look at niki, who looked just as awkward as you did, you sigh, “you know, i can get you a boyfriend.” ivy smiled, you tilt your head,

“yeah! my friend jake, he’s single, you two would be a power couple.” she giggled, “i don’t think i-

“oh come on! you can’t hangout with my boyfriend all the time, i know you two are best friends but like..” she smirked and grabbed onto niki’s arm, niki looked at you before looking down.

you then realized what this was, ivy only invited you to tell you to back off of him.

fuck this.

“yeah i’m gonna head home, thanks for inviting me.” you stood up and quickly left, niki so badly wanted to chase after you, but due to him being in the inside of the seat, he was trapped,

ivy scoffed, “she’s weird.” she shrugged and began eating the sushi, niki sighed.

you walked home with your head down, she was right. you can’t hangout with niki all the time anymore. he’s your best friend but you can’t deny you’ve been catching feelings for him.

and it’s wrong. he’s not available for you. only thing you can do now was to avoid him at all costs, if you’re not with him, you can’t gain feelings…

right?

a/n: didn’t expect for so many people to want me to continue this but hey! should i end it here or continueee orrr, lmk!

taglist : @certified-ni-ki-lover @noblub-4ulolz @yourmyst4r @vixialuvs @ni-ki-ismyluv @judeduartewannabe @soobs-things @en-chantedtomeetyou @definitelynotherr @heyniki @wntersm @geniejunn @pkjay @baevsxii @k1ttylvr @geniejunn @pkjay @chaevibes @jiyeons-closet @rii7eis7

[aniesvision]

𐂃 𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝑴.𝑺

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒃, 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒕𝒐𝒙𝒊𝒄 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑, 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒅 𝒊𝒅𝒌

𝚊/𝚗: 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆'𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒂𝒅 𝒊𝒎 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚, 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆!!

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈

I wonder if he's busy or doesn't want to talk to me. It's been a week with little communication between me and Matt, ever since our last argument he made no effort to be present. Something so stupid, like forgetting to bring him the soda he asked for, and now we barely talk, even though we're dating.

I try to call him again, my hand shaky as I hold my phone against my ear.

-Hey! -I say, excited when I realized he picked up this time. -I was wondering if I could pass by your place later? I miss you.

I hear him sigh on the other side of the line and my heart immediately breaks, knowing it wasn't a good sign.

-Not today, I'm tired and I'm still upset with you, I need more time.

Oh. Of course, he needs time, that's totally fine...

He hangs up without even giving me a chance to talk. I sit on my bed, remembering the times we were so in love and happy with each other, talking for hours straight. When he used to text me to say how much he missed seeing me and we'd hang out the next day.

I keep crying oceans for him, and he keeps giving me reasons to believe I deserve to drown in my own tears.

"Good morning :)

I think you're busy these days since you're ignoring me, I don't know if you need more space, but can you please just let me know?"

I'm sure love's not supposed to feel like this. You don't own anyone's love if you have to beg for it. It's not fair to keep waiting for someone while he's out there probably not giving a fuck. I'm here worried, upset, feeling like shit, and he can't even text me. For days.

I can't help but think of all the signs and the amount of times he's let me down, how dumb I was to let him in. He broke my heart once before, and now he's doing it all over again and even knowing that he'll do the same I can't let him go.

Driving to his place unannounced was probably the worst mistake I've ever made, but I needed answers and if he refused to talk to me through the phone I'd make him talk to me in person. I knock on the door, his tired eyes staring at my swollen ones for the first time in two weeks.

-Are you okay? -I ask, noticing how his features didn't look as carefree and peaceful as they used to.

-I'm fine. -He says, tone firm and arrogant.

It was clear he didn't expect me to be there, and he didn't like it. I tried to talk to him, asked so many questions, followed him around like a lost puppy, cried, and begged for anything, for him to share any thoughts or feelings.

His scent filled my nostrils, giving me a weird sense of familiarity, his sad eyes looking at mine, but it felt like I was staring at a cold wall.

He hugged me, without saying anything, and my shoulders dropped, my heart melting at the slight show of affection. I take deep breaths, letting my eyes close as I try to regain my posture.

Is it insane? Letting him in again when he gives me so little? Letting him break me whenever he wants?

It must be nice to have someone like this, who loves another so much that let them break their hearts twice.

➪ @riowritesitall @sturniolosarethebest @hyacinthst @deers4luv @sturncakez @watercolorskyy @delooshunalhoe @sarosfilms @blahbel668 @sturniyolo69 @sturniolosl0t @colbsposts00 @fallingforfalll2 @stvrnmc @faithlia @katie-tibo @monroesturnns @chrisxcherry @shaquilles-0atmeal @fratbrochrisgf @dayzeandhaze @h3arts4harry @star-yawnznn @asherrisrandom @pip4444chris @sturniolo-fann @beansprout713 @conspiracy-ash @sturnsxbitvh @ivysturnss @mattsbitchh @larallott @stqrnlvs @sssoniaswiftt @s1ut4chris @lovingregulusblack @sturnslutz @star-yawnznn @jupiter-rebel @courta13 @emely9274 @blahblahblahm

[allthingsfangirl101]

Full of Surprises – Gary Johnson

Masterlist

"Hey, baby girl."

"Hi."

"Whoa," Gary sighed. "Is everything okay?"

"One word for you," I sighed.

"Oh?" Gary laughed.

"Teenagers."

"I'm sorry, gorgeous," Gary said softly. I could practically hear his smirk as he added, "We could order dinner and I'll make you feel like a teenager again."

"Easy, professor," I teased. "How was your day?"

"Long," he sighed. "I need a hot dinner, a hotter shower, and the hottest girl."

"I hope I'm the hottest girl you have in mind," I said, pretending to be grumpy.

"Always, baby girl," he chuckled. "Always."

"You have one more class, right?"

"Yeah," he said. "You're on your way home?"

"Yeah," I repeated. "I'm driving home now."

"Great," he said gently. "Get home, change into something comfy, and find us a movie to watch. I'll be home in a little over an hour."

"Better hurry," I said in a teasing tone. "I'd hate to behave like a teenager without you."

"Don't even think about it," he said, his voice sounding like he said it through gritted teeth.

"Don't worry, baby," I soothed. "I mean, I can behave like a teenager by myself. I'm really good at it, but it's not nearly as fun without you."

"Damn, baby girl," he moaned. "How am I supposed to stand up in front of a room full of college kids when I'm imagining my girl at home, waiting for me?"

"You started it," I chuckled. "Get to class, Professor. Call me on your way home and I'll change."

While he finished up his classes, I cleaned the house and ordered dinner. The second he walked in, I jumped into his arms. Gary carried me to the couch and we undressed. He had to quickly throw on his pants when the delivery man dropped off our dinner. After eating, we continued what we were doing earlier upstairs.

I woke up to someone kissing my bare shoulder. I moaned as I turned around, instantly tucking into Gary's chest.

"Why are you waking up?" I grumbled. "It's Saturday."

"I have to get to office hours," he chuckled.

"Who in their right mind would get up early on a Saturday after a late night just to go talk to a professor?" I sat up as Gary got out of bed. Seeing his naked form made me smirk. "Never mind," I said, making him look over his shoulder at me. "Now I get it."

He turned around, leaned down, and pressed his lips to mine. I grabbed his face and pulled him so he was lying on top of me. He kissed me back before slowly breaking the kiss.

"Baby," he sighed. "I really gotta get to campus."

"Fine," I pouted, pushing him off of me. He kissed my cheek before getting out of bed. "But you better not run off with some co-ed."

"And leave my Gorgeous History Teacher open for the Hot Math teacher to steal?"

"Are you kidding?" I teased. "I got nothing in common with Mr. Hammon."

He playfully glared at me before quickly returning to the bed. I giggled as he crawled back on top of me. I wrapped my arms around his neck as our lips smashed together.

"Mr. Hamman can go suck a calculator," Gary moaned against my lips. "You're all mine."

"Absolutely, Professor Sexy Ass."

Without getting off me, he looked over his shoulder at the clock on the bedside table.

"Damn it," he sighed. "I'm officially late."

I giggled as he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to my lips before getting out of bed. I slipped on his flannel that I tore off him last night. While he showered, I went to the kitchen and started making him some coffee. I was just pouring it into his to-go mug when he came in.

I turned around and handed it to him. He went to grab it but wrapped his hand around mine, trapping me. He pulled me in and kissed me.

"What would I do without you?" He asked, lowering his voice.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "Stop at Starbucks a hundred times a day."

He laughed as he continued to hold me close. "Wanna meet your man for lunch?"

"Sounds perfect."

Gary leaned in and kissed me again. "You know I love you, right?" He asked as he broke the kiss.

"Of course I know that," I smiled. "Just like how you know I love you."

"All I want is for you to be happy and safe," he said, the look on his face falling.

"Well, I am happy," I shrugged. "But why wouldn't I be safe?"

Gary paused. Something in his eyes changed. "You never know," he whispered. The fear in his eyes made my heart sink.

"Baby," I said, gently grabbing his face. "I am happy and safe. With you."

* * * * *

I walked into the office, to see Gary grading papers. I leaned against the doorway and watched his expression change as he marked things.

"Damn," I moaned, making Gary's head snap up. "You must have all the girls in your class swooning."

"They can swoon all they want," he smirked as he stood up and walked over to me. He pulled me into his chest and said, "You're the only girl for me."

I giggled as he leaned down and picked me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. I tightened my arms around his neck as he carried me to his desk. He put me on the edge and stepped between my legs.

"You know what I've always wanted to do?" He asked, his voice deep.

"Have your way with a student in your office, Professor?" I asked, smirking.

"Not just any student," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

I moaned as he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. As our lips moved in sync, Gary carefully laid me on top of his desk. I grabbed his shirt, pulling him on top of me.

"Professor Johnson," I whispered as he broke the kiss and started nibbling on my jawline. I smirked when he moaned. "We should probably lock the door."

* * * * *

After Gary and I fulfilled his fantasy, we went to lunch. Everything was normal except for one text that he got. When he looked at his phone, he quickly shut it off and put it back in his pocket. I went to ask him about it, but he said it was just an annoying coworker.

On the way back to the college, I noticed Gary continually looking into the rearview mirror. The more he looked into the rearview mirror, the tighter he gripped the steering wheel. After about the fifth time of checking something behind us, I had to say something about it.

"Gary," I said slowly. "Honey, is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he chuckled awkwardly. "I just. . ." He paused and looked in the rearview mirror again.

"What's going on?" I asked as I turned around.

"Don't," he said harshly as he grabbed my arm and turned me back.

"Gary," I whispered, "You're scaring me."

"I'm sorry, baby," he sighed as he let go of my arm and grabbed my hand. "It's just. . . It's complicated."

"What do you mean?"

He looked over at me and the fear in my eyes made the focus in his soften. He gently squeezed my hand.

"We're being followed."

"Wait, what?" I stuttered as I sat up.

"Don't worry," he tried to soothe. "I can get us out of this."

"But why. . . Why would someone be following us? We're teachers." I looked over at him, my heart sinking into my stomach. "Gary," I whispered. "What's really going on? Why would someone be following up?"

He looked at me and sighed. "Baby," he slowly started, "I promise I will tell you everything once I get us somewhere safe."

"Safe?" I stuttered.

I gasped when he quickly turned the truck. With both hands on the steering wheel, Gary weaved us through traffic. I couldn't help but continually look behind us. I wasn't sure what Gary saw, but I didn't notice anyone following us.

"Are you sure we're being. . ." I cut myself off with a gasp when he turned the car again.

"Blue GMC truck, two cars back," he said, sounding different. I don't know what side of him I was seeing, but I wasn't sure I liked it.

"Gary," I whispered. "Will you please tell me why we're being followed?"

He looked over at me, his eyes sinking. He checked the rearview mirror again before getting back onto the freeway.

"Look," he sighed. "I'm not actually a professor."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, my fear choking me.

"It's my cover."

"You're what?!"

He looked over at me and I could clearly see his nerves building. He looked back at the rearview mirror, relaxing a little.

"Baby, can we continue this conversation at home?" He asked, his voice full of hope. 

"Okay," I said slowly. I looked away from him but I could still feel his eyes on me. We drove home in silence. Usually, I let him walk around and open the door for me but this time, I just wanted to get inside.

He quickly followed me. Once he was inside, I noticed him check the street before locking the door. He instantly walked over to me, grabbed my hands, and pulled me closer.

"Y/N," he whispered, "I really want to explain."

"You mean tell me the truth?" I scoffed as I tore my hands out of his and pushed him away from me. I walked past him and into the living room with him right on my heels.

I sat on the couch as he sat on the coffee table in front of me. He went to grab my hands but I moved them away.

"Sweetheart," he said softly, "I really am a professor but it's a cover."

"A cover for what?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest."

"It's kind of complicated," he stuttered. I scoffed as I scooted away from him. "Y/N, baby, I'm sorry."

"Sorry for lying to me?"

"Honey, please," he sighed. "I had to lie to you."

"What could possibly make you lie to me?"

"I work for the police as an undercover hitman," he rushed out.

"Gary," I scoffed as I stood up and started walking away. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Gary jumping over the coffee table to stop me from walking away.

"Y/N, I'm serious," he said, grabbing my hand and turning me around. "I work for the police as an undercover hitman."

"Saying it again doesn't clarify it," I said, pulling my hands out of his, "and it doesn't make it believable either."

"Then let me explain further," he sighed. "Y/N, I do work at the college, but I also help the police. I have a couple of aliases who people hire to kill their loved ones."

"What?" I gasped as I stepped away from him.

"I haven't," he said quickly. "Y/N, baby, they only think I will. It's a setup. They hire me to kill their loved one and I agree to it. Once they pay me, the police move in. See? I would never kill anyone."

We stared at each other as I tried to connect the dots. My mind was going everywhere as I looked into the eyes of the man I loved but wasn't sure I knew anymore. Gary must've known what I was thinking.

"Please believe me, gorgeous," he whispered desperately as he walked toward me. "I am still the same guy you met and fell in love with at that teaching conference three years ago. I just. . . I lie sometimes."

"Have you ever slept with one of your clients?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course not, baby," he said, stepping closer to me. He grabbed my hands and looked deeply into my eyes. "I promise, darling. I would never ever ever cheat on you. I'd rather lose a client, have my chief yell in my face, and never work for the police again than cheat on the woman of my dreams."

He pulled me into his chest and wrapped his arms around my waist. When I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck, he took that as a good sign because he slowly leaned in and kissed me. It took me a second before I started kissing him back.

When I started to kiss him back, he pulled me closer. Soon, our lungs were burning. He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against mine.

"I swear on my life, my love," he whispered, still out of breath, "I have never cheated on you."

"Okay."

"Okay?" He asked, slightly leaning back.

"I'm not okay with you lying and having aliases and agreeing to fake-kill someone," I sighed, playing with the buttons on his shirt. "But I love you."

"I love you, too, baby," he said quickly. I couldn't help but smile when I finally realized he was constantly calling me pet names to soften me up.

"You're careful, right?" I asked, my voice softening as I looked down at our feet. He reached over and gently lifted my head with his pointer finger.

"I'm always careful, sweetheart," he tried to reassure me. I couldn't help but take a step closer to him as I remembered what brought all this up.

"Gary?" I whispered.

"What, baby?" He asked.

"What about those people that followed us earlier? Who were they? Did they know who you were? Were they tracking you? What if they followed us home? What if they come back when you're on campus? What if they try to take me in order to get you to. . ."

"I won't let anything happen to you," he said firmly. "I promise, Y/N. I will always protect you."

[lila-lou]

✨High School Sweetheart - Pt 9✨

Summary: You come face-to-face with a ghost from your past—Dean Winchester. Five years after he vanished from your life without a word, and now he´s here. But neither you nor he are teenagers anymore.

-Listen to "Chance with you"-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, Fuff, Angst

Word Count: 8800

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

He met your gaze, a mixture of regret and understanding in his eyes. “Guess I left you with more than a few bruises that didn’t heal so easy”. His voice was quiet, and for once, he wasn’t hiding behind his usual bravado. “I know I… wasn’t around to help pick up the pieces”.

You looked down, tracing the edge of your wine glass with your finger, the years of hurt and healing flashing through your mind. “I tried to let it go, you know? Tried to be… okay”. You took a breath, steadying yourself. “But it’s hard when you can’t shake the feeling that something’s missing. Like you’re trying to move on, but there’s always this empty space that just… doesn’t go away”.

Dean opened his mouth, the words forming on his lips, but you gently raised a hand, stopping him before he could speak. “It’s not your fault, Dean”, you said softly, your voice steady but threaded with the honesty you’d held back for so long. “Eight years ago, you were upfront with me. You never promised me forever; I knew what I was getting into with you”.

You looked down again. “I just… I guess I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d feel enough to come back. That one day, you’d walk back through that door on your own”.

Dean’s face fell, the weight of your words pressing down on him, and he took a shaky breath, the flicker of guilt and sorrow unmistakable in his eyes. “I thought about it… about coming back”, he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. “More times than you could imagine. But every time, I told myself you deserved better than a guy who could only give you bits and pieces. I didn’t want to hold you back from having… everything”.

You looked up, meeting his gaze, a mixture of tenderness and hurt in your expression. “Everything, Dean?”, You let out a soft, sad chuckle. “What’s everything without the person you can’t stop thinking about?”.

The vulnerability in your voice broke something in him, and he reached across the table, his hand finding yours, his touch warm and grounding. His thumb traced gentle circles on your hand, grounding you both. “I was scared”, he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “Scared I couldn’t be what you needed… that I’d mess up something real and leave you worse off”. He hesitated, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “But not a day went by when I didn’t regret it. Not one”.

Dean’s grip on your hand tightened, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that held years of unspoken words and hidden fears. “I wanted you to have… kids”, he began, his voice rough, each word a struggle, as if saying it out loud made it hurt more. “That house we always talked about, a life, (Y/N). Not this”. He gestured vaguely, encompassing everything that his life had become—the dangerous hunts, the constant running, the never-ending fight against things that most people only read about in horror novels.

He let out a heavy sigh, his gaze dropping for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. “It’s not just ghosts and werewolves, sweetheart”, he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet urgency. “It’s demons, things darker and… worse than I could ever explain. And you don’t belong on that path. I can’t stand the thought of you living in fear—sleeping in dirty motels, wondering if you’re going to wake up the next morning, or if some creature’s going to turn up and…”. He trailed off, shaking his head, his eyes brimming with something raw and unshielded.

“I want you to have peace”, he murmured, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. “To feel safe, to have that family, to go to sleep at night knowing you’re going to wake up safe in the morning. I want you to have a life that��s… beautiful, and not shadowed by the things I can’t escape”.

You felt the weight of his words settle over you, the quiet, profound ache behind every syllable. Dean had left, not because he didn’t love you, but because he loved you too much to drag you into his world. The realization washed over you like a wave, the years of wondering and hurting suddenly making a different kind of sense.

“But Dean”, you whispered, your voice trembling, “that life… it doesn’t mean much if you’re not there”. You reached up, your hand brushing gently along his jaw, grounding him in your touch, your voice thick with emotion. “I get what you wanted for me, but… all I wanted was you”.

Dean looked away, his jaw clenching as he wrestled with the emotions your words stirred up. You could see it—the conflict, the regret, the deep-seated belief that he was doing what was best for you, no matter how much it tore him apart.

“(Y/N)”, he murmured, his voice thick, each word weighed down with guilt and sorrow. “You don’t understand… you deserve so much more than what I can give you. My life, it’s… it’s a war zone. I’ve seen things, been through things I’d never want you to know about”. His voice broke slightly, and he took a shaky breath, steadying himself. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to stay. But wanting isn’t the same as doing right by you”.

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, a gesture that felt as comforting as it was heartbreaking. “If I stay… you’ll never be free. You’d be tied to a life that would keep you looking over your shoulder, wondering if I’ll come back each time I leave. And you’d see me—”. He hesitated, his voice filled with a quiet self-loathing that nearly undid you. “You’d see me worn down, one hunt after another, one scar after the next. I can’t do that to you”.

Tears pricked your eyes, but you refused to look away, to let him turn this into a goodbye. “But, Dean… I don’t care about any of that”, you said, your voice thick with the love you’d held onto for so long. “You’re not just some guy who comes and goes—you’re… you’re the one person I never stopped loving. I don’t care about the scars, the hunts, the danger. I care about you. And if you think you’re sparing me from something by leaving, you’re wrong”.

He shook his head, a pained smile flickering across his face. “(Y/N), this life… it breaks you. It’s broken me. And you—you’re strong and good, and I don’t want to be the thing that takes that from you”.

“You don’t get to decide that for me, Dean”, you whispered, your voice firm even as it trembled. “You don’t get to choose what I’m willing to face, who I’m willing to love. That’s mine, and I’m choosing you. I’ve always chosen you”.

Dean’s shoulders slumped, and for a moment, he looked as though the fight had finally left him, his resolve crumbling under the weight of his own feelings. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were filled with a raw vulnerability that he rarely let anyone see.

“Do you know how many times I thought about coming back?”, he whispered, his voice barely audible, as though he were confessing a sin. “Every time I thought maybe, just maybe, I’d be strong enough to keep you safe. That we could have that life. But then I’d see… the things I had to do, the people I couldn’t save, and I’d talk myself out of it. I kept telling myself that letting you go was the only way I could protect you”.

Your eyes glistened, a mixture of frustration and heartbreak surfacing after years of keeping it buried. The words escaped before you could rein them in, soft but edged with a quiet, fierce pain. “Nothing… nothing could feel worse than waiting eight damn years, Dean. Eight years for that one guy who took my heart with him when he left”.

Dean’s gaze dropped, the weight of your words settling over him, his own pain evident in the tight line of his jaw, the way he ran a hand through his hair as if trying to find a way to fix what had broken. He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it, the words clearly failing him. He looked at you as if seeing the hurt he’d caused in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to before, the reality of it hitting him with a force he couldn’t ignore.

Your voice dropped to a whisper, carrying the weight of every year you’d spent trying to move forward yet feeling anchored to a part of your life that hadn’t let you go. “Look where I am, Dean”, you murmured, the words trembling with a quiet vulnerability. “I don’t care about my stupid bookstore, or the dress hanging in my closet that I’ll never wear… every step, every plan, every single moment, I kept wondering… what if Dean was by my side?”.

Your voice gained a quiet, trembling strength, the years of suppressed pain and longing spilling over. “I’m anything but happy, Dean”, you whispered, your voice growing more resolute with each word. “Anything but at peace. Every single day, it feels like I’m just… existing, going through the motions, trying to build a life that doesn’t feel real without you in it”.

Dean’s expression twisted with a mix of frustration and anguish, his jaw tightening as he tried to hold back the emotions surging within him. Finally, he let out a frustrated sigh, his voice sharp, edged with pain. “But you’re alive, dammit. You’re here, safe, in one piece. That’s what I wanted for you, even if it meant…”. His voice cracked, but he pushed on, “even if it meant I had to stay away”.

You flinched slightly at his tone, not from fear, but from the raw truth embedded in his words. He had chosen your safety over his own happiness, a decision that had broken both of you in different ways.

Your voice rose, trembling with the intensity of every feeling you’d held back for so long. “I would trade my damn safety in an instant, Dean”, you whispered, the rawness in your voice making him falter, “if it meant I could be with you. If it meant feeling alive again, actually living instead of just… existing”.

Dean stood up, his expression filled with a mixture of frustration and something darker—something that carried years of wounds, both seen and unseen. Without a word, he lifted his shirt, revealing the bruises and fresh stitches scattered across his torso. But the worst of it was a deep, angry gash just above his heart, the skin around it still raw and healing. You inhaled sharply, a wave of shock and horror settling over you as you took in the reality of what he’d endured.

His voice was barely steady, each word laced with a raw edge. “I was possessed, (Y/N). Literally. There was… someone else in my head, guiding me, forcing me”. His eyes flashed with a bitterness that cut through you, and he gestured to the wound on his chest. “I took this knife—my own damn hand—and I slit my chest open. Tried to rip out my own heart. But it wasn’t me… it was a demon. A demon using me, my own mind, my own hands”.

He paused, the words hanging heavily between you, the rawness of his confession unraveling the walls you’d built to protect yourself from fully understanding what his life entailed. “Is that what you want?”, he continued, his voice breaking. “Because that’s the life you’re asking for right now—a life where every time you turn around, you’re wondering if it’s me, or if it’s something that’s using me to get to you, or to hurt you”.

You looked down, your mind spinning as you tried to process the weight of what he’d just shared. Dean leaned back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed defensively over his bruised chest, his expression hard but filled with a pain that went beyond the physical. There was a rawness in his eyes, a desperate, unspoken need for you to understand, and yet… a hesitance, as if he were daring you to truly see the darkness he lived with.

“Look at me”, he said, his voice low and filled with a bitterness that broke your heart. “And tell me… tell me that loving me is enough to overshadow all of that sick shit”. The words came out with an edge of self-loathing, as if he couldn’t fathom anyone wanting to hold onto someone so scarred, so damaged by things most people could never even comprehend.

The way he spoke—as though even the idea of loving him was something ugly—sent a pang through you. You lifted your gaze, taking in the bruises, the cuts, the haunted look in his eyes, and you felt your own heart ache. He’d endured so much, and he still couldn’t see that none of it made him unworthy. If anything, it made him braver, stronger, someone who bore the weight of the world on his shoulders alone because he didn’t want it to touch the people he cared about.

You took a small, steadying breath, meeting his gaze with an intensity that matched the weight of his words. “Obviously, you don’t know how much I’ve fallen for you if you think any of this would stop me”, you whispered, the words slipping out softly but laced with unwavering conviction.

Dean’s posture stiffened, a flicker of surprise crossing his face as he absorbed your words, his defenses crumbling in a way that left him looking more exposed than ever. For a moment, he was silent, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand how you could look at him that way, how you could see all of him—the scars, the trauma, the darkness—and still be here.

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, seemingly at a loss, his shoulders sagging under the weight of everything he’d been holding back. “I just… I don’t get it”, he murmured, his voice raw, almost vulnerable. “Why? Why me, when all I seem to do is break things?”.

Dean’s voice dropped to a murmur, barely more than a whisper. “I’m not worth it, baby. Trust me”, he said, his eyes darkening with an ache that went far beyond the bruises on his body, carrying the weight of everything he’d been through, every person he’d lost. He shook his head slightly, as if trying to push the thought of deserving you away. “All I do is bring people down… get them hurt or worse. You deserve so much better than someone like me”.

Your heart clenched at the self-doubt etched into his face, the look of someone who had spent too long believing he was unworthy of love. You reached up, gently cupping his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “Dean, don’t you see? You don’t have to be anything other than who you are. You’ve spent your whole life trying to protect everyone, carrying everyone else’s pain. I know you’ve been through hell and back, and I know you think that makes you damaged somehow. But it doesn’t”.

He looked down, swallowing hard, his expression wavering between hope and disbelief as he leaned into your touch. “But what if… what if all of this, everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve done… it’s too much? What if one day I look at you and I see the hurt I’m so afraid to put you through?”.

You held his gaze, steady and unflinching. “Then we face it together, Dean. Because I’m choosing this. I’m choosing you”.

Your voice trembled as you looked up at him, eyes glistening with tears that held both the ache of the past and the fragile hope for something more. “I spent eight damn years missing you, Dean”, you murmured, the weight of those years evident in every syllable. “Thinking about you, wishing… for nothing but you in my life”.

You took a deep breath, the vulnerability in your words spilling over, raw and unfiltered. “I don’t care about where we go, or what it looks like, or if it’s not what most people would call normal. I just want you. In all those dirty motels, on the road, wherever you go, take me with you, Dean. Please”.

Dean’s face softened, the tension in his shoulders easing as he took in the sincerity in your gaze. His own eyes glistened, caught between disbelief and a kind of cautious hope he hadn’t felt in years. He reached up, brushing his thumb gently over your cheek as if grounding himself in your touch, his hand steady despite the whirlwind of emotions behind his gaze.

“I can’t promise you anything but the life I’ve got… and it’s not pretty”, he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Your breath hitched as you whispered, “I don’t care, Dean”. The words left you in a soft, trembling rush, tears beginning to trace paths down your cheeks. “I can’t let you leave me again, not this time. Not again”.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze locked on yours, the intensity in his eyes almost overwhelming. And then, without a word, he pulled you closer, both hands coming up to cradle your face with a tenderness that stole what little breath you had left. His thumbs brushed away the tears as he looked at you, his own eyes shining with a vulnerability he rarely showed. Then, slowly, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that felt like a promise, a reunion, and an apology all at once.

It was gentle at first, like he was rediscovering something precious, but as the years of longing and missed chances caught up with you both, it deepened, each second erasing the distance that had once stretched between you. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you impossibly closer, as if he needed to prove that this moment was real, that you were here, together, in spite of everything.

When you finally pulled apart, your foreheads resting against each other, both of you were breathless.

Dean’s hands slipped from your face, his gaze holding yours for one more beat before he let them drift down to your hips, his fingers gripping you with a renewed urgency. Without another word, he lifted you effortlessly, his arms wrapping around you in a way that felt both possessive and tender, as though he couldn’t bear to let you go even for a moment.

Your arms wound around his neck as he carried you down the hallway, each step steady, his eyes never leaving yours. The weight of everything unsaid, everything lost, and everything found again lingered in the air, creating a feeling both electric and deeply comforting. By the time he reached your bedroom, his breaths were ragged, mirroring your own, a testament to the years of longing you’d both endured in silence.

Gently, he laid you back on the bed, his hands still cradling your hips, and his gaze softened, holding a quiet reverence as he took you in. He leaned down, pressing his lips softly to your forehead, then your cheek, his touch warm and lingering as if he were mapping the parts of you he had missed. The room fell into a calm quiet, filled with the steady rhythm of shared breaths and the comfort of knowing you were finally here, together, without any walls between you.

He kissed you again, deeply, fully, as his hands traced the curve of your waist, his touch saying all the words that had lingered between you.

Only a few minutes later, you found yourself straddling Dean’s lap, your hand resting gently on his shoulder, mindful of the bruises and healing wounds scattered across his body. The heat between you both was undeniable, a palpable warmth building with each passing second, but you hesitated, searching his face, worried that even the smallest movement might hurt him.

Dean, ever himself, noticed the hesitation in your eyes and let out a soft, exasperated chuckle, his hands giving your waist a reassuring squeeze. “C´mon, sweetheart”, he murmured, that familiar teasing glint sparking in his gaze. “You really think a few bruises are gonna keep me down?”. He tilted his head, flashing that trademark smirk that somehow made your heart race and eased your worries at the same time.

“Trust me, I’m not made of glass”, he added, his voice dropping to a low murmur as his thumb traced circles against your hip. “I’ve been through worse, and I’m still here, aren’t I?”.

You felt a smile tug at your lips, your nerves fading under the warmth of his gaze. Dean leaned forward, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Besides, if this is how I go out, I can’t think of a better way”. His voice held that cocky, playful edge that was so quintessentially him, reminding you that beneath the scars and bruises, Dean Winchester was still very much himself—unbreakable, stubborn, and entirely in the moment with you.

With a soft laugh, you leaned in, finally letting go of your hesitation. “Alright, Winchester”, you whispered back, “just don’t say I didn’t warn you”.

Dean’s smirk widened, his eyes sparking with that familiar mischief. “You know, I don’t mind a little pain”, he teased, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he held you steady, his hands warm and firm on your hips. “Actually… might even say I like it”. His grin grew as he emphasized his words by pushing his hips up gently, nudging himself just barely inside you, a silent reminder of his impatience and his eagerness to close the distance between you.

The small movement sent a spark of heat through you, erasing any remaining hesitation. Dean’s eyes locked onto yours, holding you in his gaze. “You’re making me wait way too long, sweetheart”, he murmured, his hands urging you closer. “What’s a guy gotta do to show he’s ready?”.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned in, meeting his gaze with equal intensity as you let yourself sink down onto him, savoring the feeling of being close in a way that felt both familiar and brand new. Dean’s grip on your hips tightened, his breath hitching as you settled fully, and for a moment, the only sounds were your shared breaths.

“Damn”, he muttered, his hands moving up your back as he pulled you in for a kiss, slow and deep, his usual playfulness softening into something more intense and tender. “Guess that was worth the wait”.

You couldn’t help but shiver, caught off guard by the intensity, the fullness, as if you’d forgotten just how overwhelming being with him could feel. You took a steadying breath, letting the sensation settle over you, before slowly lifting your hips. Dean’s hands moved with you, guiding you with a care that softened every edge of the moment. His gaze was fixed intently on your face, his eyes heavy-lidded, a quiet awe filling them as he took in every little reaction, every flicker of pleasure that crossed your expression.

His jaw tightened, and he bit his lip, clearly trying to rein in the sounds building in his chest. But a low groan slipped through, despite his efforts, his breath hitching as he felt you sink back down. His hands pressed into your hips with just enough pressure to ground you both, a silent testament to his own restraint.

“Fuck, you have no idea”, he murmured, his voice strained, as if the words were pulled from somewhere deep within him. “No one… no one has ever felt this good”. He shifted slightly, his hands guiding you into a rhythm that made your breath catch.

You let out a shaky, breathless laugh, leaning in close enough that your lips brushed his ear as you moved, your voice a teasing murmur. “Is that what you say to all the women you’ve been with these past eight years?”. Your words were light, but there was a hint of something deeper, a vulnerability you tried to hide beneath your playful tone as you sank down onto him again, letting your hips roll in a way that made him groan.

Dean’s eyes darkened, his hands gripping your hips a little tighter, pulling you closer, his own breath coming out in a shudder. He shook his head, a small, breathless chuckle escaping him as he looked up at you, a tender honesty in his gaze. “You really think anyone else could ever feel like this?”, he murmured, his voice low, each word laced with that familiar intensity. “Trust me, no one even came close”.

He lifted his hips to meet yours, his movements growing a little more insistent, as if to prove his words. His gaze stayed locked on yours, a silent promise in his eyes. “It’s just you”, he whispered, his voice rough. “Always was”.

A quiet whine slipped from your lips as you looked down at him, your fingers tracing a path along his shoulder, your voice barely a murmur as you teased, “I don’t believe you”.

Dean’s eyes narrowed playfully, a hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he tilted his head, his hands pressing you down against him with a gentle, insistent pressure. “Oh, you don’t, huh?”, he murmured, his voice low, almost daring. “Guess I’ll just have to prove it to you”.

Dean shifted, turning the two of you over despite the clear discomfort it must have caused him. His eyes glinted with that unmistakable spark, the one that told you he wasn’t about to let anything hold him back. You felt him still inside you, steady and unyielding, his warmth grounding you both.

Your gaze drifted down to his chest, taking in the angry, jagged cut just above his heart. The stitches looked haphazard, as though they’d been done in a rush, and the surrounding skin was a mix of deep purples and blues—evidence of just how much he’d been through. Gently, your fingertip traced along the edge of the bruised skin, your touch feather-light, filled with worry and tenderness.

Your voice came out in a quiet murmur, worry lacing your tone. “Dean… it’s infected”, you whispered, your fingers hovering over the wound, the red, inflamed skin and rough stitches telling a story of hurried care and relentless battles. You could feel the concern flooding through you, the urge to make him rest, to tend to his wounds.

But before you could say more, Dean’s hands found your hips, grounding you. His eyes, filled with an unwavering intensity, held yours as if to say he’d handle every ounce of pain if it meant proving just how much you meant to him. Without a word, he shifted, pulling you closer, his own pain evident but ignored as he thrust deeply, a gesture meant to bring you back to the moment, to remind you both why you were here—together.

A breath caught in your throat, a mix of sensation and shared vulnerability bringing you back, anchoring you to him.

Dean's voice was low, rough with both determination and an edge of vulnerability. "I want you here with me, sweetheart", he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours, his hands steady and grounding on your hips. "I’ve waited eight years… so stop worrying about something stupid like me".

His words hung between you, raw and insistent, filled with a depth of feeling he usually kept hidden beneath layers of armor. You could feel his sincerity, the unyielding need that drove him to push past his pain, to have this moment with you, undiluted and real. He wanted to make every second count, to show you that even through all his scars, he was still yours.

You felt the last of your reservations fall away, leaning into his touch, matching the intensity in his eyes with your own. “I’m here, Dean”, you whispered, your voice steady, your hand resting softly over his heart, feeling its strong, unbroken beat.

"Good", he whispered, a soft smile tugging at his lips before he leaned in, brushing a tender kiss across your mouth. His touch trailed down along your jaw, his lips grazing your skin with a gentleness that made your breath catch. All the while, his movements were unhurried, savoring each moment as he thrust slowly, steadily, holding you close as if he wanted to prolong every second of this closeness.

There was an intimacy in his touch, a quiet reverence that spoke volumes without a single word. Each gentle thrust, every brush of his lips along your neck, felt like a vow, a promise made in the quiet spaces between heartbeats. The world seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you—no past regrets, no fears of what was to come, just the warmth of his skin against yours and the shared rhythm you’d fallen into together.

It felt like coming home.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as you instinctively tightened around him, your body responding to his touch, to the feeling of him moving within you. Every inch of him felt achingly familiar, yet new, as though the time and distance had only intensified the way he filled the spaces you’d kept hidden for so long. It was overwhelming, each slow movement stirring up emotions you hadn’t let yourself feel in years, everything raw and unfiltered.

For Dean, every sensation felt like a reunion, a rediscovery of something he’d lost but never truly let go of. The warmth of your skin, the softness of your touch, the quiet gasps you made as you held onto him—each was a reminder of the love he’d left behind, of the emptiness that had lingered in every city, every hunt, every lonely motel room. The pain and sacrifice, the years spent convincing himself you’d be better off without him, all of it melted away in this moment.

Both of you moved in sync, guided not by urgency but by a quiet, reverent understanding of the time you’d lost. His hands held you with a mixture of tenderness and need, each brush of his thumb against your skin, each press of his body against yours, a silent reassurance that he was here, now, and he wasn’t going anywhere. The weight of eight long years, the ache of missing each other, faded into a wordless connection, a love that hadn’t dimmed but had only grown stronger, waiting patiently to be reignited.

In that moment, there was no doubt, no lingering fears—only the overwhelming relief of being together, two hearts finding their way back home.

You spent hours wrapped up in each other, lost in the warmth and connection that had been denied for so long. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word filled the room with an intimacy that felt like both a reunion and a promise. The night stretched on, and the world outside seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of shared breaths and murmured affection.

By the time the clock neared three in the morning, you were both spent, your bodies exhausted and drenched in a comfortable sheen of sweat. Dean’s face was flushed, a shade deeper than usual, his breathing heavy as he finally allowed himself to collapse beside you. He let out a quiet sigh, a contented sound, as though just being there, with you, had lifted the weight he’d been carrying for years.

You turned toward him, reaching out to brush a damp strand of hair from his forehead, but as you did, you noticed the warmth radiating from his skin, hotter than usual. A small frown tugged at your lips as you gently touched his cheek, the flush there not entirely from the hours spent together. His eyes flickered open, catching your worried expression.

“Dean… you’re burning up”, you murmured softly, concern etching into your voice.

He gave a lazy, dismissive smile, waving off your worry. “I’m fine”, he mumbled, voice thick with fatigue. “Just… been a long few days, that’s all”. But the weariness in his gaze, the slight edge of fever in his flushed skin, told you there was more to it than he was willing to admit.

You pressed your palm firmly against Dean’s forehead, feeling the heat radiate through your hand—a clear sign that his fever wasn’t just “nothing”. Your gaze traveled down to the wound on his chest, your concern deepening as you took in the angry, red edges of the cut. It was obvious that the stitches were barely holding, and the faint yellow tint around the area spoke to a growing infection. The rough bandage job and few pieces of surgical tape were only making things worse, failing to keep the wound clean or properly closed.

“Dean… this isn’t just a little fever”, you murmured, your voice edged with worry. “This is serious. You need proper stitches, and we need to take care of that infection. You can’t just ignore it and hope it goes away”.

He let out a sigh, his attempt at a reassuring smile faltering under your concern. “I’ve had worse”, he said quietly, but even he seemed to know how thin that excuse sounded as he shifted uncomfortably, the strain on his face evident.

You stood up from the bed, slipping into your satin robe. As you moved toward the bathroom, you could feel Dean’s gaze on you, and even though you knew he was stubborn enough to resist, you weren’t going to let this go. Pulling the first aid kit from the cabinet, you began rifling through its contents, mentally cataloging what you’d need.

“Dean, you really can’t keep brushing this off”, you called over your shoulder, your tone leaving no room for argument.

He shifted uncomfortably, grumbling in that way only he could. “You know, just because you took one semester of medical school doesn’t make you a doctor”, he muttered, his voice holding that familiar mix of sarcasm and exasperation.

You returned to the bed, raising a brow as you met his gaze. “And I’m hoping you’re just this mean because of the fever”, you shot back, unflinching, though your worry softened the edge in your voice. “Otherwise, I might start thinking you don’t appreciate the fact that I’m trying to keep you from ending up with an infection that could put you in the hospital”.

Dean huffed, averting his eyes. “I appreciate it”, he mumbled, begrudgingly. “It’s just… I’m fine. I’ve had worse, really”.

You let out an exasperated sigh, rolling your eyes as you took a closer look at the wound, the jagged edges of the stitches clearly the result of a rushed, one-handed job. You stepped between his legs, hands on your hips as you inspected the inflamed, swollen area, barely able to keep the frustration out of your voice.

“Who the hell stitched this up, anyway?”, you muttered, raising an eyebrow as you glanced at him, fully expecting an explanation.

Dean looked away, a bit of embarrassment flickering over his face before he grumbled, “Did it myself. Sam wasn’t around, and I wasn’t about to go to some clinic just so they could tell me to ‘take it easy’”. He paused, glancing at the bruised mess on his chest, almost as if seeing it through your eyes. “It wasn’t exactly my best work”, he admitted, his voice barely more than a mutter.

Your heart softened despite yourself, knowing how fiercely independent he was, how he hated being vulnerable. You let out a slow breath, the mix of worry and tenderness filling your chest. Gently, you touched the skin around the wound, your fingers brushing softly as you examined it.

"Clearly”, you mumbled, trying to keep the frustration in your voice light as you unscrewed the cap of the antiseptic. You soaked a cotton pad, glancing up at him for a brief moment to give him a wordless warning. Dean was already bracing himself, his hands gripping the bedframe on either side, his jaw tightening as he looked down.

The second the antiseptic touched his skin, he sucked in a sharp breath, his knuckles going white as he held onto the bed. His entire body tensed, his eyes squeezing shut as he muttered a string of curses under his breath. You couldn’t help the tiny smirk that crossed your lips, a part of you secretly pleased that you were getting back at him just a little for the stress he’d put you through.

“Hurts that much, huh?”, you teased, though there was an unmistakable gentleness in your voice. You dabbed carefully, doing your best to be gentle while still cleaning the wound properly.

He let out a strained chuckle, his voice rough. “Feels like hellfire, sweetheart. But don’t let me stop you… ”, he bit out.

You gave him a sympathetic but firm look, your tone softening slightly as you said, “You know I’m going to have to take these stitches out, right? They’re… not doing you any favors. I need to redo them, and it’s going to hurt—probably a lot—especially with this infection”.

Dean’s face twisted in a grimace, his fingers flexing around the bedframe as he let out a resigned sigh. “Perfect. Exactly what I wanted to hear at three in the morning”, he grumbled.

A faint smile tugged at your lips as you looked up at him, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, maybe next time you’ll think twice before going all DIY surgeon on yourself”, you teased, your tone warm but edged with concern.

Dean scoffed, though his grin was tight as he braced himself. “Yeah, because I have so many other options on a hunt”, he muttered, a hint of defiance in his voice.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, fingers gentle as you began to carefully peel back the old, grimy surgical tape. He hissed, the tension evident in the way his hands tightened around the bedframe, his jaw clenching as he tried to mask the pain.

“Don’t be such a baby”, you murmured, attempting to keep your touch as soft as possible. “Big, tough hunter, but a little bit of tape has you groaning like that?”.

He shot you a look, his usual bravado slipping just enough to reveal the discomfort. “Yeah, yeah”, he ground out, wincing again as you finally pulled the last bit of tape free. “You try dealing with it and see if you’re all smiles and rainbows”.

“Maybe I would be”, you replied, giving him a teasing smirk, though your voice softened as you took in the state of his wound. “But seriously, Dean… if I’m not here next time, maybe just skip the home surgery routine?”.

Dean’s expression softened, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. “Maybe I’ll just… stick around, then”, he mumbled, almost as if he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. The unexpected confession hung in the air, heavy but laced with something hopeful, and you felt your heart tighten.

“Yeah”, you replied softly, letting the weight of his words settle over you both. “Maybe you should”.

As the last of the tape came off, you took a steadying breath and began the delicate process of undoing the stitches, working carefully to minimize his discomfort. Dean’s breath hitched with each slight tug, his hands gripping the bedframe tightly, but he kept his eyes on you, watching every movement as though grounding himself in your presence.

Every so often, a tiny bead of blood would surface along the wound, and you’d pause to dab it away gently with cotton, the antiseptic stinging just enough to make him wince. His jaw tightened, but he stayed still, holding himself steady through the pain with quiet resilience.

“Almost there”, you murmured softly, your voice soothing. “Just a few more, then I’ll clean it up and redo them”.

Dean gave a slight nod, his eyes never leaving your face. “You make it sound like it’s nothing”, he muttered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite the strain. “Forget the one semester—you’re practically a pro at this”.

You chuckled quietly, though your focus didn’t waver. “And here I thought you didn’t think I was qualified”, you teased back, trying to keep his spirits up as you finished removing the last of the stitches.

As you carefully set the first new stitch, Dean’s hands instinctively flew to your thighs, his grip tightening almost reflexively as a pained groan slipped through his clenched teeth. His fingers dug in, steadying himself against the sharp sting, grounding himself through the contact with you. You glanced down at his hands, feeling the warmth of his touch even through the tension of the moment, and you couldn’t help but pause for just a second, your gaze flickering to meet his.

“Hold on, Dean”, you murmured gently, focusing on keeping your movements as smooth and precise as possible. “Just a few more”.

Dean’s eyes closed briefly, his jaw flexing as he drew in a shaky breath, his fingers still gripping your thighs as though he needed the contact to anchor him through the pain. “You’re… doing great”, he managed, voice rough but laced with gratitude, the faintest hint of a smirk breaking through despite his discomfort. “Just… didn’t realize you’d turn torture into a bonding experience”.

You let out a soft laugh, the warmth of it soothing the tense air around you both. “I thought you could handle a little pain, Winchester”, you teased gently, finishing the stitch with as much care as you could manage. He huffed out a laugh, squeezing your thigh once in acknowledgment, his fingers relaxing slightly as he took a deep breath.

“One down, a few more to go”, you whispered, your tone reassuring as you moved to the next stitch. Dean’s hands remained on your thighs, steadying himself, and somehow, amidst the quiet pain and gentle touches, a calm seemed to settle over both of you, an unspoken understanding that this moment—like so many before it—was bringing you closer in a way that went beyond words.

After a few more stitches, the cotton pads in front of you were soaked in his blood, a quiet testament to the care and patience you’d poured into every careful movement. You let out a breath of relief as you finally tied off the last knot, your fingers moving with a practiced gentleness as you made sure everything was secure. Just as you reached for a bandage to cover the wound, you felt a subtle tug at your waist, Dean’s hand slipping beneath the edge of your robe, fingers brushing your skin with a warmth that sent a gentle shiver through you.

You glanced down, meeting his gaze, seeing the flicker of tenderness and gratitude mixed with something else—a quiet, unspoken need that lingered between you both. His hand opened your robe just enough for his fingers to rest against your hip, his touch light, hesitant, as if waiting for your permission.

Dean’s eyes softened, an almost playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Guess I owe you one, huh?”, he murmured, his voice low, roughened by the combination of pain and something deeper. He leaned forward slightly, the hint of vulnerability in his gaze grounding you both in the intimacy of the moment. “You patched me up pretty good… now I just need to return the favor”.

Despite everything—the pain, the exhaustion—you felt warmth bloom in your chest, the connection between you two as solid and undeniable as ever.

Dean’s lips trailed ghost-light over your stomach, hovering dangerously close to where every nerve seemed to spark under his touch. His breath was warm against your skin, and you felt the familiar ache of anticipation, even as your voice faltered with concern. “Dean, you need to rest now”, you mumbled, trying to keep your resolve firm as you reached to gather the bloodied cotton and gauze.

But Dean’s hand closed gently over yours, stilling your movements. “Just… stay”, he murmured, his voice low and filled with that undeniable pull that only he could create. He looked up at you, a teasing glint in his eyes tempered by something deeper. “Besides, I think you’re the one who needs to unwind”.

You tried to protest, to insist he should be resting after everything, but his gaze held yours with a quiet determination. Dean’s fingers grazed up your thigh, grounding you in the moment as he leaned in, his lips pressing warm, lingering kisses along your skin.

"Let me take care of you for once", he murmured softly, his voice roughened but sincere.

You let out a soft groan, partly in annoyance at Dean’s stubbornness, but mostly at the way he knew exactly how to coax you into letting go of any protests. Just as you opened your mouth to object, he sank back onto the bed, settling himself comfortably with that signature grin that was equal parts challenge and invitation. He lifted his hand, curling his fingers in a slow, beckoning motion, and grinned wider as he said, “Sit”.

You stared at him, your brow furrowing slightly in confusion. His smirk deepened, eyes glinting with mischief as he saw the uncertainty flicker across your face.

Slowly, you climbed on top of him, instinctively moving to settle over his hips, but Dean’s hands tightened gently around your waist, guiding you higher, closer to his face. His touch was both steady and insistent, and when you finally realized what he wanted, a flush of warmth spread over your cheeks, your heart beginning to race. He looked up at you, his gaze dark and filled with a heat that made your pulse quicken even further.

“Right here, sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice low, filled with a soft, teasing warmth that only heightened the intensity of the moment. His eyes held yours, his expression open and eager, as if he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in the pleasure of you. His hands settled firmly on your thighs, grounding you, reassuring you that he meant every word, that this was exactly where he wanted you.

You hesitated for just a second, your heart pounding, but as his hands guided you forward, you felt every lingering worry slip away. He looked at you with such genuine affection, that familiar, stubborn patience in his gaze, that it was impossible to resist

As the early morning light crept into the room, you found yourself under the warm spray of the shower, the heat easing the fatigue from a night filled with closeness and quiet whispers. Dean joined you, carefully adjusting his stance to avoid getting his wound wet. Despite his best efforts, you could see him wince every so often, his jaw clenched in concentration.

“You’re as stubborn as ever”, you teased, stepping closer to help shield his wound from the water.

Dean took the opportunity to draw you in, his arms wrapping around your waist with a gentle but steady pull. He guided you back just enough so the water wasn’t pouring directly over you both, creating a small, intimate space where the warmth of his body surrounded you.

You felt his lips press softly against your shoulder blade, a lingering kiss that sent a shiver up your spine. His embrace tightened slightly as he leaned into you, his chin resting on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. His hand splayed across your waist, anchoring you both in the moment.

"Thanks for looking out for me", he murmured, his voice a low hum that vibrated softly against you. There was a rare vulnerability in his tone, a quiet appreciation that went beyond words.

You leaned back against him, resting your hands over his as you both stood there in comfortable silence, the sound of the water filling the room. His hand slid up, brushing a stray droplet from your collarbone, his fingers lingering as if memorizing every curve and line. For a moment, it was as if time stood still, the world outside fading away as you both found peace in the closeness you shared.

With a soft sigh, he pressed another kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering as he whispered, "I could get used to mornings like this".

You mumbled, barely above a whisper, “You said that before…right before you left me the second time”. The words slipped out, laced with a hint of sadness. You bit your lip, feeling the weight of the past settle around you both, the times he’d walked away despite the promises that still lingered between you.

Dean’s arms tightened around your waist, his hold becoming firmer, as if he could anchor you to him just by sheer will. His breath stilled for a moment, and you could sense his heart beating a little faster against your back, knowing he felt the truth in your words.

You turned in his embrace, looking up at him, a fierce determination in your eyes. “I swear to you, Dean, if you’re not taking me with you this time…”. You paused, your voice steady, holding his gaze without a hint of hesitation. “I’ll hunt you. I’ll join up with every demon, ghost, and whatever else is out there, and I’ll find you. I’m not losing you again”.

A flicker of something softened in his eyes. He swallowed, his hand coming up to cup your face gently, his thumb brushing your cheek in a silent apology. “I know”, he said, his voice barely a whisper. “And I’m done running, I promise. You’re coming with me…wherever this road goes”.

You felt the tension melt away as he pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours. In that moment, you knew he meant it—this time, he wasn’t going anywhere without you. The past may have cast its shadows, but standing there with him, you felt the strength of something real, something that wouldn’t break again.

The warm spray of the shower continued to cascade around you, but the world felt perfectly still. Dean’s arms around you, his forehead pressed to yours, were more grounding than anything you’d ever known. For the first time in what felt like forever, the doubts and fears that had haunted you both were quiet, replaced by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours.

His whispered promise lingered in the air between you, fragile but unshakable, like the first light of dawn breaking through the darkness. “Wherever this road goes”, you echoed, the words a vow of your own, a tether tying you both to the promise of staying together.

Dean looked at you then, his gaze filled with an unspoken tenderness that seemed to reach into your very soul. “We’ve got this”, he murmured, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was as much reassurance as it was devotion.

You knew deep down that, no matter the battles or storms to come, you’d face them side by side. Together, you had finally found your way home.

-The End-

———————————

A/N: I LOVED writing this one. I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @globetrotter28 @ladykitana90

[bloopitynoot]

Reading TGCF: Chapter Twenty-Six

For those who don't know, I am reading TGCF for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag Bloopitynoot reads TGCF. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read BUT if you followed along with my SVSSS read, the rules and vibe are the same.

Today is a day for comfort and soft things. I've declared it, so it is LOL. If you are reading this you are legally obligated to do something nice for yourself.

This latte is brought to you by my partner <3

Let's go chapter 26!!!!!

Okay, so Mu Qing DID reach out and pass on the message. (he did sort of a shit job, but he DID do it). The guys who were supposed to pay attention were just busy doing illicit temple things. p311

Not related to this story at all, but the significance of the ritual in this story really made me think about how different cultures approach auspicious ceremonies. The one that came to mind for me (my family is from Sicily, and some- married in- from Sardinia) is Mamuthones of Mamoiada a Sardinian practice. Definitely not as beautiful as the parade here, but the vibe is essentially the same; using ceremony to chase negativity in preparation for a good year. I just think it's so cool that different places in the world all have their own way of handling luck. p315

This guy (Xie Lian) is a mess. 1. only 3 passes so already starting rough. 2. the divine outfit is filthy. 3. bro lost his earing too. p319

The tension between Mu Qing and Feng Xin is far too much! If these two don't become lovers, I swear. p320

What a wild translation, "No, no. You promise me right now that this stops here. Otherwise, I'll break up my relationship with you, and you'll be cursed to never find a wife!" p326

:( Everyone bullying Mu Qing. No wonder this man is moody as hell. p230

Qi Rong; an absolute menace behind the wheel. Someone needs to get this man in a mafia au. p335

oof. MXTX just casually tossing this trauma out there. The fact that Xie Lian went from being a picky eater to literally eating trash just hits me in the heart. p337

I feel like half the characters in this series need mental health support. Poor Qi Rong honestly, this kid was struggling from day 1. p339

My heart! If this is the same bandaged boy in the present, this kid has been through too much! p345

Hong's little "ugly" broke my soul. p349

This is so wild to me that they want to punish Feng Xin for doing his literal job. p353

adds "daddy issues" to Xie Lian's chart. p355

Jeeze. Qi Rong's parents story to. No wonder this kid is unwell. p358

oooo! Hong LYING about his home. Mu Qing dropping the truth and calling this kid out. Why the last sentence of the chapter though!

Once again we are left at a critical point.

I need to know this little man's story. Why is he so small, how is it that he basically cannot die, what are they plotting????

Can yall believe there is 1 more chapter (I think 1 maybe 2) left of book two!?!?!?

[heeheesang]

넷 — memories.

╰┈➤ warnings ! yn’s dead boyfriend , breaking down , REMINDER !! NO ACTUAL IDOLS ARE RELATED TO THIS FIC IN REAL LIFE !! angst ? idk

“ THE ROOM IS SO SMALL , GOSH . “ I COMPLAINED A LITTLE AS RICKY HIT MY ARM , “ HEY IT’S BIGGER THAN THE CHANGING ROOM . “ HE JOKED AS I LAUGHED A LITTLE TOO LOUDLY .

soon , we settled in the room as we ordered our snacks and a few drinks . riwoo and ricky making me feel more adjusted to the area as the couple fought in the back behind us , “ why must she be here . “ i heard hyeju whine as taesan replied , “ she’s my staff . i choose who comes and who doesn’t . be glad i even invited you after that stunt you pulled . “

“ what song should we sing ? “ riwoo asked as ricky and i hummed , “ maybe we can jam to my chemical romance ? do you guys know them ? “ i asked as the two hummed in agreement , the couple in the back getting silent . “ you can stay here and whine if you want , i’m here to have fun . “ taesan said loudly before we heard a long whine from the girl , “ all you want to do is stay with her ! i’m out ugh ! “

soon enough a loud bang was heard as she slammed the door shut . i looked up at taesan who was ruffling his hair in anger . exchanging a look with the two ‘ri’s , i sighed softly . “ you okay ? aren’t you gonna chase after her or something ? “ i asked as he looked up and shook his head , “ not today . i don’t give a fuck anymore , she’s not worth it .”

i nodded my head and pressed my lips into a thin line before asking , “ do you know chemical romance ? we’re about to sing along . “ his eyes immediately lit up , “ know them ? i love them . “ he replied enthusiastically as i let out a short giggle with the other two . “ join us then , “

needless to say , the night was well spent as we started out with i don’t love you by mcr . maybe the choice of song was too soon after the fight that just happened but hey , it was too good to be skipped . next up , it was ricky and taesan’s duo song , they chose love by wave to earth out of all songs .

they both had a good voice , i knew ricky could sing but taesan ? it was weird to see him , a strict manager , singing so well with his staff members . his voice was so , unique . it was like he was trying to attract a bee , his monotonous voice turned sweet in a matter of seconds as he picked up the microphone . i admit , i was flustered by his voice , it was just so good .

my eyes were wide open as riwoo laughed at my reaction . soon the song came to an end , ricky and taesan handing over the microphones as they sat down on the couch . riwoo and i clapped as the two blushed , thanking us as we picked the next song .

riwoo let me pick a song , and i chose still with you by jungkook . why ? because i love the lyrics and it reminds me of my ex , how well he treated me before he passed in a traffic accident . he sang this song to me everytime we were on call before we slept , if we were in his car singing , any scenario to be honest . i miss him a lot , i wished i was there for him before the crash but unfortunately , the last words we had to each other was ‘ i love you ’ .

as we sang the song , i slowly started to break down . the memories of us flowing in my head despite him being gone for almost two years . i stopped singing halfway and looked down to my feet , hoping not to actually break down in front of my colleagues and manager .

“ i guess these simple feelings were everything to me , when again ? if i face you , i will look into your eyes and say ‘ i missed you �� . “ i sang with a slightly shaky voice before dropping the microphone and running out of the room . tears running down my face as i ran behind the building and broke down . i held my knees close to my chest as a scene of us played in my head , i miss you hoon .

“ you’re gonna drop the flour yn — “ “ no i won’t — oops . “ my eyes widened as the flour dropped all over the floor in the kitchen . we giggled as he picked up some flour , decorating my arms with it as i decorated his face . “ you’re santa claus now ! “ i joked as i pointed out the fake beard on his face . he laughed and took some pictures before washing my arm , placing me on the couch as he finished baking the cookies .

i miss all the memories we had , why can’t you just come back to me ? soon the back door of the building opened , i was sure it was you . “ hoon ..? is that you ? “ i asked but no it wasn’t . it was just stupid han taesan .

“ seems like you had someone on your mind , huh ? let me take you home , yn . it’ll be midnight soon , “ taesan offered me as i stayed silent , looking down on the ground as he sighed , “ i’ll be taking minju and heeseung too . don’t worry , “

after much persuasion , i ended up taking his offer . the public transports were down by this timimg too , and i’ll save money ! minju had her arm wrapped around me the whole time , comforting me as heeseung tried to distract taesan from starting conversations with me . minju planned to stay at mine with moka , moka was already at my house and made us snacks . we thanked taesan for the ride before getting in the house , only for me to break down even more on my couch .

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⨾ 𝑝. 𝑡𝑙 — @hooneverse @sol3chu @yourssincerely-mimi @reikaxslvr @petralovesbonedo @enhabooks @mwahvvis @jaerisdiction @rairaiblog @jeonginontopforever @miukidoll

⨾ 𝑠.𝑤.𝑜. 𝑡𝑙 — open !!

[charliedawn]

The Hannibal family with a reader who loves to make them laugh? Their smiles are amazing and I want to bring them joy :)

Wonder if Charlie can tell I have a crush on one and if they know who it is lol.

The dining room was as elegant as ever, with polished silverware and soft candlelight casting a warm glow. The Hannibal family carried their usual composure, their conversations deliberate and measured. But tonight, you were determined to shake things up. Their smiles were rare treasures, and you were going to collect them all.

You leaned forward, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Okay, serious question—who would survive longer in a zombie apocalypse ? I mean, besides me, obviously.”

The question hung in the air for a moment. Morgan raised an eyebrow, Kevin looked intrigued, Peter nearly dropped his fork, and Hannibal Jr., seated calmly at the far end, quirked his lips in a faint smirk.

“You think you’d survive longer than us?” Peter asked, incredulous. “We’re—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” you cut him off, holding up a hand dramatically. “You’re talking to someone who once scared off a goose with nothing but jazz hands. I’ve got survival skills and flair.”

Kevin broke first, laughing so hard his shoulders shook. “Oh, I’d pay good money to see you jazz-hands a zombie, princess. That’s art !”

Morgan shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And then you’d be eaten. A tragic end to such an illustrious career.”

“First of all, rude,” you replied, feigning offense as you brought a hand to your chest. “Second, I’d use my secret weapon—my terrible singing voice. The undead wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Hannibal Sr., leaning back in his chair, let a faint smile grace his face and winked at you. “An unconventional strategy, but effective, perhaps. I imagine even the most ravenous creature would flee at the sound of…say, Bohemian Rhapsody off-key.”

You grinned triumphantly. “Finally, some respect for my brilliance !”

A quiet chuckle slipped from Hannibal Jr., his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “A bold claim. Though I suspect the real strategy is in making us all laugh ourselves to death first.”

His dry humor caught you off guard, and you turned to him with an exaggerated gasp. “Et tu, Hannibal Jr. ? I thought you’d at least pretend to take me seriously.”

“I am,” he replied smoothly, though his faint smirk betrayed him.

The laughter settled, but you weren’t done yet. Leaning forward again, you clasped your hands together. “Alright, next topic. If we were all animals, what would we be ? No cheating.”

Peter immediately brightened. “Oh ! Kevin would be a wolf—he’s loyal but kind of scary when he’s mad.”

Kevin gave a pleased nod. “I’ll take it. What about you, P ?”

“Me ?” Peter paused, considering. “Maybe a golden retriever ? Friendly, cuddly…”

“…And prone to tears,” you teased, earning a dramatic pout. Peter laughed despite himself when Kevin reached over to playfully ruffle his hair.

“This feels ridiculous,” Morgan muttered, though his expression was faintly amused.

“Oh, Mr. Too-Cool-For-This,” you said, pointing at him, “you’re absolutely a cat. Cool, calculating, and secretly affectionate.”

Morgan rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the rare, genuine smile that broke through. “Secretly affectionate ? Bold of you to assume.”

Kevin grinned. “Oh, that’s spot on. And Dad ?”

You turned to Hannibal Sr. with a knowing grin. “Easy. A lion. Regal, intimidating…and probably planning something shady at all times.”

For a moment, the table went quiet as the family turned to him. His dark gaze locked onto yours, and you briefly wondered if you’d gone too far. Then, to your surprise, a low, smooth chuckle rumbled from him.

“A fair assessment,” he said, his voice laced with subtle humor. “Though I would argue that I am far less predictable than a lion.”

You turned to Hannibal Jr., who was watching you with quiet interest. “What about you ?”

“I’ll admit,” he said, his tone calm and measured, “I’ve been waiting for this judgment. What creature do you see fit for me ?”

You tapped your chin theatrically, pretending to think. “Oh, that’s easy. You’re an owl. Wise, mysterious, and slightly terrifying if you think about it for too long.”

Hannibal Jr. let out a soft laugh, the sound surprisingly warm. “An apt choice.”

By the end of the night, the room was alive with laughter and warmth. Peter wiped tears from his eyes, Kevin was still grinning, and Morgan offered you a subtle nod of approval. Hannibal Jr. lingered near the edge of the conversation, occasionally chiming in with a sharp comment that always landed perfectly. Even Hannibal Sr., usually so reserved, had a faint but steady smile that hadn’t left his face for some time.

As you gathered your plate, Hannibal Sr. spoke softly, his tone uncharacteristically warm. “You’ve brought something unexpected to this family. A rare and valuable gift. Don’t let us take it for granted.”

You smiled at him, unable to resist a playful remark. “Oh, you couldn’t. I’m unforgettable.”

The laughter that followed was rich and genuine, filling the dining room and lingering long after the meal had ended. You knew you’d succeeded in bringing a spark of joy to their lives—and that thought alone was enough to make you feel like part of the family.

However, you didn’t know that the Hannibals had chosen an animal for you too:

The Mockingbird.

[astrolotte]

Genuinely intrigued by the potential of Peri and Irep's dynamic but only in a platonic way so I end up not vibing with the fandom's portrayal of it 😔😔😔

(No but listen LISTEN they were kinda-almost-friends when we last saw them in FOP, yeah? Now they're enemies, with both actively fighting each other, and Irep going so far as to try and kill Peri's parents. What happened? When? What influenced it? Did they ever become friends, or did it nosedive the moment the cameras turned off? What about Sammy? How do Irep's parents factor into this? Could it ever be fixed? There's just so much we haven't seen, and romance just feels like too easy a solution to me. Let their friendship be easy to break, fragile. Let them have to work to keep the connection. Fairies and Anti-Fairies are literally made to be opposites, so what happens when two genuinely and truly become friends?)

((and yeah I guess a lot of this could factor into a romantic angle but ALAS the fandom seems to be leaning heavily into the funny toxic yaoi angle 😔 I don't mind it! By all means, please have your very harmless fun! But it ain't my jam :P Perhaps I'll have to write a oneshot myself...))

(((see tags for more rambles i guess. whoops a bitch spoke too much in there as he always does)))

[peranna]

listening to Fireball as i scroll through ALNST twitter with tears in my eyes (i can't see half of the screen)

[coridallasmultipass]

Oh, hello, gorgeous. I hardly recognize you. Did you get work done?

DRAFTED POST EDIT:

FUCKING SLUT. Fucking INTONATED slut. You think you're SO SHARP. Well, NOT ANY MORE, all strapped in, tuned up, fucking TOY. You loud-mouthed whore. Gonna make you scream for ME, next. Yeah, that string you just broke? That's gonna cost ya. Don't worry. I'll make you work it off.

[midnightwind]

shout out to a guy I was friends with in high school who invited me to hang out at his place to play Halo who proceeded to do 0 things to help me, a person who openly stated they never played the game let alone shooters, find enjoyment or weapon spawns or Anything and spent like 4 hours sniping me from across the map then wondered why I never came back unless the other token girl was coming along

[honorary-fool]

hey guess who remembered they have shrinky dinks paper

me :]

[king-minyard]

thinking abt how exploring shame and making mistakes in a small, controlled way and then forgiving yourself for them is literally so healing

[xmooncanary]

I wanna draw so bad but my arm hurts worse so unfortunately the chronic pain wins out today

[inkykeiji]

waaaaa idk how i managed to make it through yucky disgusting tomura-nii without batting an eye but fyodor breaking reader's bones had me cringing and closing my tab and waaaaaaaaa

i could not make it through the rest of that piece because that got to me for some reason even though i brushed it off when looking at the warnings but i just wanna let you know that i do rlly rlly love your writing and im sorry if this comes off as rude or insensitive, i'm sure many other readers were able to read that piece with no issue and give it the adoration it deserves <3 (also i love touya-nii he's perfect even though he's notttt)

hey, it’s okay! we’re all individuals and we all have personal squicks and whatnot, and some of them we can’t even explain! it’s totally fine if you couldn’t make it to the end of the piece (tho you made it fairly far if you got to when he breaks her tailbone!), i am proud of you for recognizing and honouring your limits and turning back instead of forcing your way through!

it doesn’t come off as rude at all sweetpea, if you couldn’t handle it and it wasn’t for you then you couldn’t handle it and it wasn’t for you and that’s absolutely fine! your limits are valid and important! <3 i am very happy to hear that you enjoy my writing & that you like icky sticky gooey gross tomu-nii and mr touya-nii hehe c:

[raeathnos]

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