#i genuinely thought he would never do anything like this

[kaislvves]

IN WHICH; you and kaiser get into an argument over a stupid reason which leads into a hard launch after his match.

a/n: do NAWT speak to me about how unrealistic the last scenes are. i KNOWW how crazy fans can be and they’d probably be mauling/trampling you guys to death😭 also say no to telling me to put my ear to your mouth and listen what you have to say (kaz ref…) only to tell me this is ooc leave me alone pls. & not proofread lolz

cw: swearing, arguments -> making up, my writing

“i could stay for tonight.”

it was sickening coming from your tongue because kaiser knew he didn’t want you only for tonight. he’s coming close to crushing you with how hard he’s squeezing your body like he never wants you to leave.

“just for tonight?” is a question he poses. the air around you two remains silent and it angers him—are you thinking about an answer? for there is no other answer than accepting defeat and staying in his arms, forever.

you try squirming around to wiggle your way out of his hold because it was getting warmer than you’d like it to be. “yes, micha. just for tonight.” you start whining at this point but he does not budge no matter how hard you try. he’s only growing more irritated by your response paired up with the nickname you call him to be affectionate.

affectionate his ass—you’re basically admitting you hate him. as much as he loves being seen as an enemy in others’ eyes, he hates when you perceive him in such a manner. “don’t call me micha.” his huffing out and you can feel the vibrations in his chest

“okay mr. football prodigy.” your tease is muffled by his chest. in most situations, he’d take it as a compliment to feed his ego but he knows you’re deliberately trying to egg him on. and though he currently can’t see your face because of the position you guys are in, he swears he can feel your eyes rolling at him.

“i still have a life… and a job.” now it’s your turn to get fed up by his behavior. “am i not your life?” he’s sounding like you genuinely just offended his whole bloodline and hell, maybe even very distant ancestors. you want to say he’s joking but judging by experience, he most certainly isn’t.

one thing you understood when you first started dating him was that he would not give up his career for you and using the same logic, you didn’t have to either. now can some mind reader tell you why this is happening? why is he being so stubborn about this in particular? not like kaiser isn’t dramatic or stubborn most of the time but he’s never been this stubborn over a matter like this.

“michael that’s not… i just—i can’t just give everything up for you.” oh, now you’re calling him by his full first name? perhaps that wasn’t the best way to word it because you feel grip shifting to the back of your head to keep it in place, he does this because he doesn’t want you seeing his face. “why not?” he barks a lot quieter than he normally does.

“what do you mean by ‘why not’? this has been my life, even before i met you.” you try holding in the scoff that you were trying so hard to avoid but it’s obvious now.

as if it wasn’t already tense but it feels like it bloomed into a raging silence. you believe he’s thinking of an answer but in reality, he isn’t. he’s thinking about anything else other than him opening his mouth because only the heavens know what words would spew out of his mouth if he were to—imagine how worse he’d make this petty argument.

you hate this.

you hate silence.

you hate him being silent.

and you make the dumb decision to add salt to the injury—the one thing kaiser didn’t want to do. “do you actually want to argue about this? if so, i’m not staying at all.” there you go, saying things you don’t actually mean. “do you mean that?” oh he actually responded. you did try to choose your words carefully but your mouth moves faster than your thoughts.

“and if i did?” you’re lying through your teeth, but he takes the bait.

that was what unlocked his vile mouth that should be censored on television after losing a match. “you really are annoying, you know that? i hope you didn’t because i didn’t know that either when i started liking you. or were you just leading me on? i don’t care if you aren’t staying anymore. just fucking leave.” he’s lacing his words with cyanide.

he’s second guessing his thoughts of wanting you to stay forever if you were just going to be acting like that. his grip on you is finally loosening and it’s easier to slide right past his arms. you take the chance and peak at his face. it wasn’t the look you want to see on him normally but it is justified in this situation. he has a scowl on his face but he still looks so pretty like this. he’s looking at you too, albeit not with the admiration you’re doing.

it isn’t the best idea to stay silent and so you don’t.

“fine then.” you say while walking away from him to head towards the entrance and like expected, he doesn’t follow you. you take the bag from the front-door rack and slip on the shoes he gifted you.

you spare no time opening the door, not even glancing back when you shut the door as well. kaiser is the one looking, glaring at the back of your head before you disappear behind his door. after he knows you’re off completely, he goes over to lock it shut but also ends up smelling the slight scent of your perfume floating in the air.

looks like you won’t be staying tonight anymore. and now that this happened, will you ever? did he want you to?

this argument could have been so minor if both of you had just sucked it up.

were you still together? it didn’t end in clear closure, just him telling you to leave and you did.

did you still want this? did he still want this?

in all honesty, he just wants you. no matter what form, no matter what, he still wants to say he knows you. it didn’t have to be this way.

safe to say neither of you had good sleep that night.

kaiser has many ways to express his aggression. be it words, physical contact (past), or what he’s doing right now—football. he hasn’t contacted you ever since that day and you haven’t either. makes him question what he still is to you.

why does he care? if you don’t want to talk to him, neither do you. if you hate him, he hates you.

however, whenever he does take his anger out of the field, he dominates it. effectively becoming the king of the field. from the get-go it was obvious bastard munchen would win the match against some other team they were playing against.

you could tell too, setting aside the fact you were sitting pretty far from the game. what made you want to watch the match even if you thought he was probably your ex already? you didn’t know. it’s like you just gravitate towards the stupid rat tails man, he’s an annoying magnet to you now.

and like everyone betted on, bastard munchen did win.

the team immediately celebrates by huddling together, slapping each-others hands, carrying each-other, and what not? you unconsciously smile at the scene, it was small, you could still feel it but you couldn’t help it.

kaiser is celebrating with his team, being somehow lifted on-top of ness’ shoulders (which he is really annoyed at and he’s wondering how the fuck he’s doing that, what is wrong with him?). he ultimately scored the last goal they needed to win. it wasn’t a surprise because when he plays, he wants to—needs to—win.

despite that, his teammates couldn’t help but realize his anger, leading to yoichi asking him a question that makes kaiser want to choke the black-haired man on the spot.

“the hell was that?” he asks (referring the stupidly impossible goal kaiser was able to score, but you know… he doesn’t believe anything is impossible.) “i have a question for you too, yoichi. what the hell is that kind of question?” he’s laughing out, still on ness’ shoulders. but he’s laughing so hard his whole body starts to shake, making ness stumble a little.

still, yoichi was able to tell something was off.

“uh… what’s gotten your panties in a twist?”

but before kaiser could answer that with going off on him, he’s being pulled into an interview.

what made that goal possible?

“it was never impossible.”

what do you feel after winning?

“as if we weren’t going to win.”

boring questions he didn’t want to answer but he was obligated to—for he was basically the star of the show, like always. that was until a certain question was asked that made him look around the stadium for the first time.

that was quite an impressive goal.

“of course.”

is there anyone you wanted to watch that shot?

he’s silent. he’s thinking of you as he gazes around the bleachers—embarrassingly thinking everyone has your face and accidentally making eye contact with crazy fans that go berserk when he does. the only reason he never looked before and during the match was because you wouldn’t be there.

what a desperate reason, right? row after row, he’s scanning every seat, even the ones that are empty and imagining you’re the one sitting in it. 3rd to the top row, he scanning and not expecting to see you.

the fuck? is that you?

is he looking at you? kaiser is looking in your direction and in the area you’re seated but you’re so high up you can’t tell and it’s very unlikely he is but he keeps staring. you’re awkwardly looking away and around your section to hide your face.

oh but he’s already gotten a look of the face he so desperately wanted to see and he’s not going to look away, nor will he stand in one place. like a lunatic who just escaped some mental hospital, he’s booking it from the interviewer who stands shocked.

oh ok... he totally saw you which defeats the total point of you sitting so far away, was he lying to you when he said his eyesight wasn’t the best? probably. anyway, that was your sign to also walk away.

screams of fans were deafening and you felt like your eardrums were going to burst anyway.

who cursed you? because it was such a coincidence that kaiser comes out the way you were going to exit. he didn’t count how many fans who were asking all sorts of things he ran past to get to you.

as soon as you saw his face, you tried playing it off cool and spun the other way to walk away but he was by no means dumb and he saw you do that. he clicked his tongue in annoyance.

it felt like when you ask your friends to chase you and they actually do and now you’re screaming your lungs out trying to outrun them. obviously it was futile because he was so much faster than you.

no words could explain how fucking loud the crowd was, first when he ran, second when he entered the spectator area, last (hopefully) when he hugged you tightly from behind, stopping you from running.

like that night, he was warmer than you’d like him to be. arms wrapped around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. “are you running away again?” he’s whispering into your ear and despite the crowd + the booming voices around you… ++ the paparazzi basically stomping on people to get a photo, he’s unbelievably close to your ear, you have no trouble in hearing him.

“kaiser.” you breathe out in the same shock the interviewer was probably in. “don’t call me that. answer my question.” he huffs—he hasn’t heard you call him that in for like… forever! (unless you count other arguments)

“should i want to run away?”

“i don’t want you to.”

the grip is getting tighter and it slightly stops you from breathing for a second. you don’t want to run away, you don’t hate him.

you were thinking the same as him, whether or whether not he still considered you his. but you know his ego is way too high for his own good so you do him a favor and ask him instead.

“are we still something?” you ask and it hurts him that you do—did you not think that anymore? his eye is twitching with uncertain emotions. “…tell me your answer first.” there’s hurt evident in his voice because he doesn’t want to jump into conclusions and hurt his ego even more than he already has fighting for his way to get to you.

“i don’t know, are we?” he’d flick your forehead with full power if he wasn’t trying to make up with you. it’s barely audible but you hear “i still want this.” a frown is on your face and he took it as a bad sign.

“i do too, micha.” you admit, he’s spiraling by how you say his name.

as much as he wants to say that he did want you to stay with him forever, that he didn’t want you to leave him, that he doesn’t actually find you annoying, that he loves you. he decides on doing only the second and last option because he’s kept himself, you, and the fans waiting far too long.

(you also wanted to say you didn’t mean it.)

he’s spinning you around to face him.

“don’t leave me, ever.”

he holds your hands in his, leaning forward to kiss you.

and though you guys still have so much to apologize, discuss, and everything in between… you both would rather leave that for a private matter. just stay in this moment, in his arms for now? if not forever.

oh and now you hoped this was the last time the crowd got as rowdy as it was.

GERMAN FOOTBALL PRODIGY; MICHAEL KAISER AND HIS SUPPOSED PARTNER MAKE IT PUBLIC! WHO IS THE LUCKY PERSON? EVERYTHING WE KNOW RIGHT NOW…

locknessmonster : bro wtf

[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

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[veronicangel]

UNDER YOUR SPELL

daisuke - mouthwashing

cw: smut, in this au nothing that bad happens,, everyone stays alive and jimmy isnt a b word, daisuke cums in his boxers lmao, l bomb!, very rushed lmao

it had been months since he's had any sort of pleasure. it's all stressful these days with what happened on the pony express. no matter what, swansea, curly, and jimmy are on him about anything. he is just so exhausted and in need of some relief. and seriously, the only sort of relief he gets is from you. you are just so kind to him. whenever he does something and you tell him he did a good job, or when he helps you with something and you tell him how amazing he is.

he can't help but think of you laying in his bed late at night. it was silent on the ship, and he was alone with his thoughts. he couldn't help but envision you. he thought of the way your hair was so beautiful and the way it would look in his hands. he thought of your pretty eyes and how they would look looking up at him with your plush lips full with him. he thought of your body, the way it curves at your hips, the way your waist would fit his arm perfectly, your chest and how perfectly your tits would fit in his mouth. he felt so perverted thinking of you this way, but he was completely under your spell. he snapped back into reality when he heard a knock on his door. he didn't know what to do, his pants unbelievably tight just from the thought of you. he, although very lazily, got up and opened the door. his face dusted a light crimson, it was you. he could help but look you up and down. it seems you were in pajamas because you were wearing a tank top and shorts. he's never seen this much of you he didn't know how to react, but his cock reacted on its own.

"hey"

...

"um im sorry for bothering you i just cant sleep"

he was so stupid! why is he staying silent when you're right in front of him?? he could easily just pull you in and tell you everything he thinks of you. he could kiss you now. he could finally have a chance with you so why can't he muster up any words?

"yeah!"

"i'm sorry?"

he could die right now. out of all the things he could say to you he says "yeah!" like an idiot. he could tell you to come in. he knows he wants to cum in you. he could tell you that you could come to him whenever you want.

"i mean come in! sorry i just im tired you know the sleepiness is getting to my brain"

"i'm sorry if you're tired i can go back to my room"

"NO!"

....

you laughed at that. he heard your beautiful laugh. you were so oblivious to your affect on him, just your laugh made him throb.

"if you really want me to stay then i will."

you brushed past him, his hand rubbed on yours just a second, and he felt as if his heart could explode. he's thought about your hand more times than he could count. he watched as you sat in his bed. he's dreamt of you being in his bed over a million times. he rushed over to sit next to you, keeping a small space in between you.

"you know, i think you're really great"

"huh?"

"yeah, i hear what the crew says to you and i don't think it's true at all. i mean without you i wouldn't be able to reach anything really."

you laughed as you said that, but your face turned more serious. you closed the space between you too, scooting yourself closer to him. you put your hand on top of his.

"you're a really great guy you know? you genuinely are really good for us... for me."

the way you held eye contact with him, the way your hand rested on his, the way there was no space seperating you. the praise you gave him. he didn't know what to do or how to react. his face was definitely flushed a deep shade of red.

"i..."

he couldn't get anymore words out because of your lips on his. what's going on? he felt his lips no longer alone as you attached yours to his. he kissed back, although inexperienced, he didn't want this to end. when you pulled back he looked at you in admiration.

"am i dreaming?"

you laughed again, before kissing him again.

"no sweetheart, this is very real"

he felt like if he died right now, he'd be okay with it. you kissed him and you're calling him all those things. he doesn't know what to do. he desires you so badly. ever since he first saw you you've been haunting his thoughts.

"can you... kiss me again?"

you did just as he asked, your lips becoming one with each other. the slow passion made him insane. your hand made its way to his hair and he couldn't help but whimper. he wanted to pull back and apologize but you wouldn't let him. you grabbed his hand and snaked it around your waist, bringing you two even closer. the kiss started getting a fast pace and your tongue slipped into his mouth. this was way past everything he's ever done, he's so new to this, and he's doing with it with you and- his thoughts get interrupted by feeling himself getting pushed back onto his bed. he's now laying down and you on top of him, your lips never seperating.

"daisuke..."

his name left your mouth perfectly, although it wasn't louder than a whisper. he looked up at you, the way your hair framed you both, your eyes looking down on him, your lips red and puffy from your intense make out session, and the look in your eyes that said you want him. it was euphoric.

"what is it...?"

"i want you so badly... do you want me like i want you?"

everything felt too good for him. he wasn't sure this was even real. all he could do was nod desperately. he felt your hands reach the hem of his shirt, and he looked at you with a pink face and nodded again at you. you pulled his shirt over his head and started kissing his neck, then his chest, then his stomach.

"you're so perfect daisuke, i want you all to myself"

his mouth fell agape and his eyes closed, he couldn't help the small whimpers leaving his mouth as he felt your teeth suck on his neck.

"i... i need you (your name) i need you so badly please let me be good for you let me be your good boy"

he led his hands to his waistband and started pulling the rest of clothes off. his face was completely flushed and he couldn't tell if this was really happening. he was now almost completely bare, and he felt really embarrassed.

"you're perfect daisuke... do you wanna see me too?"

before he could answer you grabbed his hands and led them to the hem of your own top, quickly taking it off. you weren't even wearing a bra, he saw you immediately.

"you wanna make each other feel good, daisuke?"

"i need it more than anything (your name)... will you let me?"

you nodded your head and he brought his hands to your shorts. you moved off of him so he could get them off. both of you now only in your underwear. you were now sat next to him and he looked up at you. it was more than anything he's imagined. he's definitely imagined you naked over a hundred times, but the real deal just makes him go over the edge.

"do you want to do this?"

"please touch me.."

his voice was quiet but you did as he asked. your hand reached down to his crotch and you started palming his clothed cock. the sensation brought immediate moans from him.

"you sound so cute daisuke keep making these sounds for me"

your pace quickened and his moans got louder.

"please (your name) i wanna cum for you, i wanna be your good boy, tell me im your good boy"

"you're my good boy daisuke, be my good boy and cum for me"

with your command, he finished in his boxers. his whimpers continued even after the fact. he was just too cute.

"you did so good for me daisuke"

"i.... i love you"

you were facing each other while laying down now, and the word love fell from his mouth. this shocked you but it felt so right hearing it directed at you.

"i love you more daisuke"

lmao i got carried away this was supposed to be rlly short and it was also supposed to be pure smut but it ended up being fluff and barely smut 🌚 this was also supposed to go a completely different way so if you guys want to see that lmk cuz i will write it for you guys if you want 😼

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Hazbin Hotel Headcanons

"We are Just Friends" "Just friends I thought I was your wife" Hazbin Men x Reader

Guess who's baaaaaack, it's ya fav writer Luna, whoot whoot

Lucifer

He was over the moon the first time someone mistook you two for a couple. He really thought it was his time to shine next to you, only for you to deny it right in front of him.

As the two of you grew closer and closer, the more 'friend' things you did, the more it looked like a 'couple' thing, from cuddling on the couch to holding hands at the mall.

When your actual friends started calling you a couple, he knew something was up. Not only do you tell your friends everything, but the giggles and pointing really laid it in for him that you may have some feelings.

By the time you were out in public again and you got called a couple he was quick to interject in the conversation to make sure it was clear that you two were actually a couple.

When you questioned him about it he was all smiles and giggles. It went a lil something like this:

You had pulled Lucifer from the man talking to you just moments ago. "Lucifer, what the heck? We aren't even dating."

He just smiled at you and shrugged, pulling you close to himself. "Well, to me, this looks like a date, a pretty person out and about with a pretty handsome devil."

You slapped his arm and rolled your eyes, trying to get the previous man's attention to let him know you were just friends. Then Lucifer chimed in, "Just friends, Y/N. You wound me. I thought I was your husband."

Needless to say, this whole interaction definitely helped you two confess your underlying feelings and start actually dating. So, there was a lot of good to come from some silly shenanigans.

Adam

Initially, he was against anything tying you two together. I mean, come on, he is the first dick. After all, he can have anyone he wants. Until he started catching real feelings for you.

When it was mistaken that you two were a couple after he started falling for you, he would loudly proclaim he was your husband, and you would just laugh and giggle.

Sometimes, you would correct him, especially in front of the seraphim or executioners, that you were just friends, but Adam was always there to tell everyone he was your husband.

He only saw hope that you would drop the foolish idea that you weren't his when you blushed at him, grabbing your hand and telling a winner about how he married you not too long ago.

The last time that you tried to correct someone on your and Adam's relationship, it went a little like this:

You shook your head, giggling at Adam's antics, and looked at Sera. "We are not married, I have no ring, and I am single."

Adam gasped and summoned a hundred different rings. "That's okay bitch. I can fix that. Take your pick. I am the first man, after all."

You blushed and shook your head, telling Sera you were close friends. Her knowing eyes read you like a book on how much you wanted to be more. Then Adam jumped in. "Babes, we're just friends. Are you serious? I am your husband; just let it happen, please."

Shortly after this incident, Sera had a long talk with Adam about how he should ask to be your boyfriend first, then maybe move on up to husband status.

Vox

He was content having you around, even if it stung every time you called him just your friend. He was happy he had a friend who genuinely cared.

He would, however, pout and give you too much space and distance when you would correct people that you were just friends. He wasn't petty, no, never. He just cared about you not being mistaken and not making you uncomfortable.

It was brought to his attention by the other Vees that you and he were uncharacteristically close for people deeming themselves "just friends." You two were glued to each other, giggling and bringing out your best selves.

When he realized this, he slowly stopped correcting people and would even butt in before you could correct them, just letting all of hell slowly think you and Vox were together.

The last time you ever corrected someone that you and Vox were just friends went a little like this:

You were watching one of Vox's live streams and saw an influx of messages asking where you were and when you two started dating. You sighed. "We are not dating. We are just friends!"

Vox short-circuited and turned to look at you. Quickly, he dragged you to his lap, setting you down and hugging you in front of everyone. "They are shy and don't want you all to know I am their husband."

You gasped and blushed brightly, trying to pry yourself out of Vox's grasp, but he held you tight and laughed with a big, bright smile.

Once the stream was over, a lengthy discussion ensued about the meanness of messing with one's emotions. Only then did you realize no feelings were messed with, and Vox was dead serious.

Alastor

With Alastor, it was all on the flip side. He was adamant that you two were just friends—good, good friends. However, you always longed for more and were hurt when the words left his lips.

He somehow always managed to miss your pouts and groans whenever the situation seemed to care how it affected you when he harshly told the world that all you were was a friend.

You found it hard to believe that you two were just friends when you did so much together, more than he and Rosie. You were always in his studio, sitting right next to him as he required while drinking tea that he especially makes for you and no one else.

You finally caved in and spoke to Rosie about the mixed signals her best friend was giving you, only for her to reconfirm your suspicions that no one else entirely lived in Alastors heart like you did.

The last time you let him ever call you just friends went a little like this:

Rosie sat across from you two as Alastor made your tea, a knowing look on her face. Before she spoke, you knew she would make the comment you always dreamed about your and Alastor's relationship. Sure enough, Alastor was quick to respond, "Rosie, dear, we are just friends. How many times do I have to tell you?"

Alastor's crisp voice rang out, and you were distraught. However, you had other ideas. You gently touched Alastors hand and smiled at Rosie. "Oh, he is too shy to admit he has a partner now."

The blush that reached both of your faces was priceless as you two looked at one another, and Alastor froze, spilling tea everywhere.

After your tea party, you sat down in Alastor's recording studio to discuss the intricacies of your relationship. As soon as Alastor finally admitted to his feelings, it just so happened that he 'accidentally' broadcasted your confessions live for all to hear.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Hiii!! is it okay if I request a comfort(?) scenario/headcanons with Vil, Idia, Malleus and Lilia where a female protagonist feels self-conscious about having stretch marks and/or cellulite, thanks (Sorry if it's not spelled well, English is not my native language)

COMMENTS: So... even though I myself am a woman, I genuinely never saw stretch marks or cellulite as something bad or ugly, and I still don't. So maybe making the characters share the same vision as me would be accurate? The only exception to complete indifference is Vil, but not in the way you might be thinking.

Btw, I didn't see any point in writing this in a context other than an already advanced relationship given the topic. Fortunately, the 4 characters are 18 years or older so it doesn't end up being... you know, too weird.

I explain at the end why I couldn't write anything for Malleus or Lilia. But despite that, I hope you and all like what I managed to write. ❤️

CHARACTERS: Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud

TAGS: Fluff; Fem!Reader; Comfort; In a Relationship; Suggestive(?)

WORD COUNT: An average of 580 words per character

CONTEXT: I don't think it would make sense for two people to have this kind of intimate conversation outside of a romantic or even sexual relationship. So in that situation, he and you would be in a relationship.

This was an insecurity of yours from the beginning. After all, your boyfriend was none other than Vil Schoenheit. It would be worrying enough if he were a normal model, but he's not only a super model but one of the biggest in all of Twisted Wonderland.

He had already noticed that since you started dating you seemed more worried and less confident about your appearance and that was when he said to you:

“I am the one who needs to be perfect, not you. If I wanted to date a model I could do it, but my standards in romantic relationships are others. Different from some of my colleagues in this field. I will always help you to further improve your image if you wish and feel comfortable with it. Please don't see this as me wanting you to change your appearance, but as an attempt to make you as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside.” He pauses for a second. “However, for some reason, there's something that bothers me about the possibility of making you start living the same lifestyle as me.”

But he would only get the answer to why that bothered him later.

“The truth is: you are my escape. I don't feel the pressure to be perfect with you because... you know I'm not and yet you look at me with more admiration than anyone else. You are my escape from the superficial and futile parts of my professional life. When you live in these types of environments, you start to lose track of what really matters and what really does you good. Thinking about you being swallowed up by this... and losing your genuine smile... because of me... I can't allow it! Please know that no opinion about your appearance matters other than your own. And it wasn't just that that made me fall in love.”

This may have made you feel more comfortable and confident about your appearance again, but as the relationship became more serious and you became more intimate, eventually your problem with stretch marks and cellulite began to affect your mood again.

At home, Vil had massage sessions from time to time not only to help him relax but also for other healthy effects it had on his body. He thought that now that he was dating you, maybe it would be interesting for him to buy massage products and for you to start having these sessions with each other.

“You deserve a massage probably even more than I do.” He tells you, referring to the hardships you go through with Grim and the others.

And that's when he realizes from your hesitation that something about your appearance has bothered you again. He asks you to tell him and that you can trust him. After all, if you couldn't, what kind of boyfriend would he be? And you end up talking about your stretch marks and cellulite.

“I see.” He says understandingly. “I've never had them myself, but I've met many women in the beauty industry who talk about it to each other. Not to mention the advertisements for products for it. Do you remember what I told you when we first started dating and you felt less confident about your appearance? I am the one who needs to be perfect, not you. Furthermore, from what I understand, these marks are usually found on areas around the stomach, hips, breasts, and thighs.” He looks at you seductively. “You don't really think I would have any kind of criticism if you gave me the honor of seeing these parts of your body, do you? Why don't you let me give you that massage? I'll show you what I truly find beautiful about you.”

At first you didn't even think about it. It was only when the relationship started to get more serious and you started to sleep together from time to time that you started to worry.

Especially when Idia started having less of a problem walking around you shirtless. And giving hints about how he would like to see you wearing his shirts, without pants.

One day he says he wants to acknowledge the elephant in the room, but instead of asking why you hide your body so much, he asks if you still don't consider him worthy of seeing his girlfriend comfortably sexy.

“You never hid the fact that you like to see me shirtless.” He says while playing some game on the computer. “I also want to see you like that. Not necessarily shirtless, that's another level, but like, you know I don't like to embody the confident handsome guy who likes to walk around with little clothing on." His hair starts to turn hot pink.” But... I like how you look at me when I do. And what you say. Which I never understood ‘cause I don't even have good physics. But you do! You would be that character that every player simps for.” He sinks into his chair. “But I understand, getting that kind of look from me is disgusting...”

You may have your insecurities, but he has them too. And finally you feel the need and the comfort enough to reveal to him that that isn’t the problem, that you would also like him to find you hot as you find him and that the problem is your marks.

“What marks? Like scars? Don't tell me you have cool battle scars, like doesn't that make a person even sexier?”

You say you're not talking about scars, but stretch marks and cellulite.

“... Yah... sorry, I think I rolled a natural 1 in intelligence for this. What was that again?”

You say they are marks, irregularities and dimples in the skin and that he can search them on the internet. He does that.

“It says that these are natural things that don't do any harm. But they can impact self-image.” He researches a little more. “Wait! Are you trying to tell me that you find these strips and irregularities ugly enough to the point that you have to hide them? THIS?” He smiles mockingly “Oh no! How horrible! Your skin looks like... skin! What a tragedy!”

He will be very happy if you can laugh with him.

“As if I would even notice that. It says here that these marks are usually found on areas around the stomach, hips, breasts, and thighs. Do you really think that if I saw these parts of your body it would be little stripes and dimples that would catch my attention?” The pink in his hair becomes more intense. “I may be a shut-in but don't lump me in with those worms who define their standards based on adult videos. I can assure you that's not what you'll have to worry about if you take your clothes off in front of me.”

He finally looks at you with a seductive look and smiles confidently when he sees that you are flustered.

I really really really tried to imagine scenarios with Malleus or Lilia, but I couldn't think of anything very meaningful.

Malleus wouldn't understand the problem even if you tried to explain it to him because... it doesn't make sense to him. They're just marks. He also has marks, like, on his forehead. Is there something wrong with this?

And Lilia would just laugh for you thinking this is a problem and just tell you to forget about it.

They wouldn't understand, because it wouldn't make any difference to them at all. And that's it.

With Vil and Idia I was able to think of something because they are, like, from this generation, and because one is in the beauty industry and the other is, probably, chronically online, they can see where your insecurity comes from. But for someone like Malleus or Lilia, this type of insecurity has no basis whatsoever. I really don't know what to write with them.

Sorry. 🥺

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[lame-cameoliob]

Kallus' motivations are so interesting

I just need to get these thoughts out so I’m throwing this ramble here:

Now, this may totally just be me thinking too much (fork found in kitchen) but I feel like when it comes to how we tend to think about Kallus’ characterization, the implications of Kallus’ experience on Onderon are very overlooked. 

So he goes to Onderon with “the boys”-- which, the term “the boys” has its own set of implications about how Kallus must have really cared for those troopers under his command but I digress– and on a patrol they’re attacked, yada yada, we all know the story. 

But Kallus becomes fully paralyzed. He doesn’t describe the extent of his paralyzation but given that he had to watch as his squad was “finished off one by one” it’s pretty fair to assume that he could not move whatsoever. The fear that any person would experience in that situation is completely indescribable, that is genuinely some shit straight out of a night terror. 

He is– as we know– spared (albeit we don’t get exact details (did the merc try to kill him but reinforcements arrived before he could? Did the merc think that Kallus was already dead? Secret 3rd option?)) and he makes a full physical recovery, but there is no way in hell that he is not coming out of that encounter with some crazy PTSD. 

There’s not a whole lot of info on Imperial mental health services but I don’t think it’s a longshot to assume that they are probably close to nonexistent.

So the empire now has… an ISB agent with field experience… with untreated PTSD… where said PTSDs inciting incident pertained to a Lasat… and they’re looking to make an example out of Lasan……….. Are you picking up what I'm putting down here…...?

If you aren’t; it is BY NO MEANS a wild assumption to say that the Empire– essentially– weaponized Kallus’ PTSD, given that he would be less likely to question the moral atrocities happening on Lasan since he was already biased against Lasat as a whole. 

Now, we don’t really have a solid grasp on what Kallus’ exact role in Lasan was since he’s  kiiiiinnnd of an unreliable narrator– I mean we’re given the line in Droids in Distress where he takes credit for giving orders during the siege, but Kallus routinely just runs his mf mouth whenever he’s throwing hands so it’s like…  that could either be the truth or a crazy exaggeration, we as viewers have literally no idea what’s going on there– but it goes without saying that Kallus is obviously not excused from his participation just because of (likely) untreated mental illness, but that is literally like the whole point of his character so like we all knew that

Now, after Lasan, Kallus does something really bizarre for an imperial to do; he accepts the borifle given to him through the Boosan Keerah, and even though he doesn’t know about the cultural significance of that, he still takes it upon himself to learn how to use this weapon. I think that literally any other imperial would have tossed that shit out on sight, so I think it does kind of imply that Kallus did have a good deal of respect for Lasat culture.

Now we can all recall how Kallus is so annoying and also batshit insane whenever he fights Zeb for the first season and a half of rebels, and ME THINKS that this is because he wants to prove to himself that if he were not paralyzed on Onderon, he could have saved the members of his squad. He had to sit by and watch them die, and I think that he just wants the vindication; now you may be thinking, But Emma, he beat the Lasat who gave him his borifle, why would he still be obsessing over this– say it with me now– he is mentally ill. No victory will ever be enough to prove this to himself. Point blank period. 

To double down on that point, Kallus never actually says anything xenophobic about Zeb or the Lasat as a whole. (At least not that I can remember). He says “Lasat– never know when to give up,” but that’s not like… a crazy thing to say– in fact, in a fucked up sorta way, it almost sounds like a compliment???? Like, Kallus completely sees Zeb (and the Lasat in general) as equals, he’s not operating under the usual xenophobic imperial mindset that other species are lesser than. This weird obsession that he has in seasons 1 and 2 is just there because he wants to outwit and outfight Zeb (and the rest of the Ghost crew… but especially Zeb)

And after the Honorable Ones???? It’s literally never brought up again. He chills tf out so hard after that it is high key uncanny. And like, yes duh that is because– for writing purposes– that’s the beginning of his redemption and they want viewers to root for him as fulcrum, but it also implies that after finding common ground with Zeb, and understanding where he’s coming from and who Zeb is as a person, he realizes that he’s been CRASHING TF OUT for basically no reason. 

And he is SO QUICK to switch sides?? Like, he is fulcrum at least a decent time before the beginning of season three. The whole point is that the second he asks questions and delves deeper into what the Empires motivations are he is disgusted enough that he doesn’t just drop everything and disappear, no, he became a spy for the rebels because he wants to help. I feel like that just goes to show that, at his core, Kallus is a good person. A deeply confused, and hurt, and misguided person, but a good one. 

I dunno, this is just a really long winded way of saying that Kallus is the perfect example of an imperial pawn. Like the Empire is an incredibly effecient indoctrination machine that exploits people at every turn, especially their own soldiers, and I think that Kallus’ relationship with that indoctrination along with his own motivations is just super super interesting and I think about it literally all the time

[theorderisgone]

ꕀ ﹒Under the Same Sky

PAIRING // KARASU TABITO X GN!READER

SUMMARY // Amid years of playful rivalry, Karasu Tabito subtly reveals his long-held feelings for you during a rainy walk home, leaving you questioning the true nature of your relationship.

CONTENTS // oneshot, fluff, academic rivals to lovers, pre blue lock, ooc (??) karasu. wc 681

Karasu Tabito had always been good at keeping secrets. His talent for masking emotions was as sharp as his instinct on the soccer field or his knack for solving equations in record time. But there was one secret he couldn’t shake, no matter how much he tried: he’d liked you since middle school.

Not that you’d ever notice.

You were his academic rival, after all. The one person who could make his blood race for reasons he’d never admit. Since the day you walked into his life—head held high, confidence radiating like the sun—Karasu had been hooked. Not that he’d ever let it show. Instead, he let the rivalry take center stage, a perfect excuse to keep you close without revealing too much.

It was late in the evening after school, and the two of you were stuck in the library. Finals were around the corner, and neither of you would back down from the unspoken competition of who could study harder—or longer. The rain pattered against the tall windows, the only sound besides the occasional rustle of pages and the rhythmic tapping of your pen against the table.

“Do you always fidget when you’re stuck on a problem?” Karasu teased, leaning back in his chair. His sharp eyes flicked up from his notes to you, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

You shot him a glare, tapping your pen harder just to annoy him. “Do you always run your mouth when you’re pretending to study?”

“Pretending?” he echoed, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know, I’m a genius at multitasking.”

“You’re a genius at being obnoxious.”

He chuckled, kicking his legs up onto the empty chair beside you. “That too.”

By the time the library announced its impending closure, the rain had only gotten worse. You gathered your notes and textbooks, trying to figure out how to make it to the train station without ruining all your hard work.

Karasu slung his bag over his shoulder, lingering as you struggled to balance everything. “You really gonna walk in this storm?”

“Do I have a choice?” you muttered, double-checking that your notes were safely tucked away.

He shrugged, his usual smirk replaced by something softer. “Guess not. But you could let me carry that.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Why? So you can hold it over my head later?”

“Nah,” he said casually, but his tone was surprisingly genuine. “Just thought I’d help.”

You hesitated, but eventually handed him one of your textbooks. “Fine. But if you drop it, I’m never letting you live it down.”

“Deal.”

The two of you walked side by side under the dim glow of streetlights, the rain soaking through your shoes as Karasu balanced your book in one hand and held his bag with the other.

“You know,” he said after a long stretch of silence, “we’ve been doing this for a while.”

“Doing what?”

“This. The whole ‘rivals’ thing.”

You glanced at him. “What about it?”

“It’s just...” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s kinda funny, isn’t it? How we’re always trying to one-up each other.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Funny how?”

He shrugged, staring straight ahead. “I dunno. Guess I just... don’t mind it as much as I used to.”

That made you pause. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Karasu tilted his head, smirking down at you. “You’re sharp, aren’t you? Figure it out.”

You frowned, trying to decipher the meaning behind his words. But before you could ask, he changed the subject, his voice light and teasing again.

“You know, I’m still gonna beat you on the next test.”

“Oh, please.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Keep dreaming,” he said with a laugh, but the faintest hint of pink dusted his cheeks as he glanced away, hiding his expression.

And for the first time, as the two of you walked through the rain, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more behind his playful words—something he wasn’t quite ready to say aloud.

author's note // idk how to feel about this one lowkey. kinda wna write a rin version of this, but we'll see how it goes!!

[kteezy997]

Beyond Business-part two//t.c.

Warnings: mention of deception, possibly toxic relationship, small argument

He was so close, leaning onto the table with his hands. You turned your head, your heart racing, thinking he’d do something crazy like kiss you. There’s no way he would do that, right?

You watched him look at the laptop screen for a few seconds, but it felt much longer before he spoke. “I think it’s time for a lunch break.” He stood up straight, “Ready?”

You were brought back to your senses, “Yeah, um, what do you want me to go get today?” you asked, pushing your chair back and standing up as well.

“Actually, I thought we’d go out somewhere.”

"Oh." you said, shrugging, "Alright."

............

The lunch wasn't really anything special, he just took you to a sandwich shop where you sat in a booth and finished eating within ten minutes. But it was abnormal, considering the two of you had never gone out to lunch, or any other meal together. Typically, he would have you go pick up food from somewhere, mostly to give you a mental break from the workday, or you would order food to be delivered to his place.

After returning to his house, you decided to break the ice on a topic that he was dreading: the Golden Globes.

"So, have you been thinking about the Globes? Do you have an acceptance speech ready?"

"What are you talking about? I'm not gonna win." he slumped down in one of his comfy chairs in the living room.

"Timmy, you should have something prepared. I can help you write something."

"Yeah," he sighed, "I guess I should have something, just in case. That's your job for the rest of the day, write my speech." he smiled cheekily.

You giggled at his goofy face, "Okay, boss. You'll have to proofread so I don't leave anyone out on your thank you list. Should I mention Miss Jenner?” the last question was a bit of a joke. You didn't think Timmy would ever mention a significant other publicly, not even if he were married to someone for 10 years with children.

Timmy only rolled his eyes, “Yeah, no.” he said firmly, taking his phone out, looking at the screen.

“Are you guys…okay?” You knew this was a sensitive spot, but not sure exactly why.

“Yeah, we’re fine.” he said plainly. He did not want to talk about her.

You bit your lip, "Well, I will go get started on that speech, unless there's anything else you need me to work on?" you started to turn on your heel.

"No, nothing right now, y/n, thanks." he said to you, but kept his eyes on the phone.

You could not get your head around how nice he was being to you, not that he was ever particularly mean, except for the night before, but you were over that. But to actually thank you for just doing your job was not typical of him.

.........

Later on, evening hours were approaching, and it was nearly time for you to go home. You heard Timmy's footsteps trailing into the dining room. His phone was still in hand.

"She is wanting to text; I just don't have the energy tonight. Just keep her on the hook, make her think the relationship is secure." he said, attempting to hand the device over to you.

"Is the relationship not secure?" you asked, not sure if you should take the phone.

Tip-toeing around an answer, he shrugged, "Just say enough to make it so. You've done it for me before." he pointed out.

"I know...it just doesn't feel right. This is something you should be doing Timmy. What if she mentions something from a text that I sent, and you don't even know what she's talking about?"

"She won't. Don't worry about that, it's not that deep. Just send a few texts back and forth and it'll be done." his nonchalant attitude was a little unnerving.

You shook your head, "It just seems mean, like towards her. She is still just a girl, you know, I think she actually might like you, Timmy."

"It's not that serious, she knows that, but I need her to think that everything is fine."

"I don't want to lie for you anymore, Timmy."

"It's not lying." he insisted.

"It's not genuine. Even if you don't care about Kylie, she is still a person. She doesn't deserve to be deceived."

"I never said I didn't care."

"Well, you don't act like you do! What even is your relationship with her? You never say anything about her."

"You're my assistant, I don't have to talk about my love life with you." he gave you a dirty look.

You scoffed, "You have literally had me do your texting for you, and you want me to do it again! You are such a walking contradiction. I'm not doing it." You were extra firm in your last sentence.

"Whatever. I think it's about quitting time for you today anyway, y/n." he said, grabbing his phone back from you.

"Look, I'm sorry for yelling at you. But you have to admit that I'm right. That's not a way to treat someone. I shouldn't have done it before, but you're my boss and I guess at the time I just wanted to please you."

He nodded, taking a breath and a moment to reflect, "Yeah, well, I'm glad to have you to call me out on my bullshit." He then tapped your arm with his hand. "Okay, get out of here, kid."

You frowned, "Did you just call me 'kid'?"

"Yeah, what?" he frowned right back at you. The mood was lighter now.

"I'm only like a year and a half younger than you, old man, don't call me a kid." you joked, gathering up your things to leave. You liked the playful banter you and he shared sometimes.

"Fine, don't call me an ‘old man’ then." he chuckled. He followed you to the front door as you slung your purse over your shoulder.

“Well, goodnight, boss.” you said, facing him one last time after to opened the door.

He held the door, his arm resting above your head. “Okay, goodnight.” he smiled softly. “Drive safe.” he said simply, then leaned in to leave a peck on your cheek.

Your heart skipped a beat, you felt your cheeks flood pink immediately. The tiny spot that his lips had touched was inflamed. You didn’t know what else to do, so you stood there smiling like an idiot.

Timmy closed his eyes, shaking his head and pressing his lips together, “I’m sorry! I don’t know why I did that. I really don’t.” he was clearly embarrassed; he took about a half step backward. “Let’s just forget about that, okay?” he smiled innocently.

“Yeah, it’s okay.” you shrugged, putting your arms behind your back. “It didn’t bother me anyway.”

He grinned, “Good. See you tomorrow?”

“Yep, definitely. Don’t forget to read over that speech. You’re running out of time before the awards.”

He mock rolled his eyes, letting his head hang down in annoyance, not at you, but the awards. “Okay.” he whined.

“Bye Timmy.” you giggled, then walked out the door. You weren't sure why he was dreading the Golden Globes so badly.

January 7, 2025

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

Have you thought about how it would go if Kant didn't tell Style that Fadel was a hitman? Style would still be hiding something from Fadel and maybe he's thrown off how forward Fadel is now that they're dating but he'd regroup and lean into it and would totally be down for a double date with his BFF and if Kant is making a special night for Bison why can't Style do the same for Fadel and then Fadel disappears for a week and Kant is a sad moo who isn't helpful and then Fadel is back and Style is so happy but Fadel gets that call from Bison but Style has no idea.

So I have actually thought about this scenario a lot. It would have been even more fucked up for Style, because he would be even more oblivious and innocent than he is in canon. Because yeah, he started to follow Fadel around for a car (and then for the principle because he got intrigued by the chase) but that is nothing compared to knowing the truth of them being hitmen.

Now, him still being unaware would have changed things a bit. He wouldn't have acted weird or suspicious immediately after Fadel agreed to date him. He would have fully embraced it. Did you see the way he was grabbing Fadel's face at the end of episode 4 when he agreed to be his boyfriend??? Style was so fucking happy about winning him over. That was genuine joy. And if Style has anything going for him, it's that he can't hide his feelings for shit. When he is happy, he lights up and bounces around.

So he would have never acted strangely and Fadel wouldn't have had that moment of WTF is going on here? I think he still would have been hesitant to trust Style, but I don't think any red flags would have been raised like they were in canon. Fadel really took a second to try to figure out why his newly acquired boyfriend would suddenly not want to be touched by him or why he was running away. Without that interaction, Fadel wouldn't have had that thought.

Style still would have gone on the double date because he is still actively talking to Kant. Kant just isn't telling him the truth. Style would have noticed Kant being a little off, but he would be way too obsessed with Fadel and seeing him and getting laid to wonder too much about what is going on with Kant. He'd just go a long with Kant asking him to take Fadel back home because at that point it wouldn't be a strange thing to ask. He'd probably just assume he wanted to do something with Bison, even after the fake out with Babe. He probably would have been like..ok Kant has it handled. You still wanna bang? And of course Fadel would be like...yes. because those two are compatible and kinky AF and would be fucking like rabbits, (i mean honestly. I don't know how Fadel gets anything done anymore with Style trying to touch his titties every five minutes lol)

Now, him not knowing may change some of their conversations, but probably not as much as you'd think. Before he knew the truth, he was already wondering about what Fadel was hiding. He's seen him kick three men's asses without breaking a sweat and has seen that he goes to grief support group regularly, so Style is aware that Fadel is hiding a lot of things and Style is a curious person. He would have 100% still tried to figure him out and find out what his deal was. I think they'd still talk about their parents and have the trust conversation. It just might not have as much layered meaning because Style actually doesn't know, but he WANTS to. He wants to know Fadel.

What would that mean for Fadel thinking he is a snitch later? Well, it would hurt a lot more. Because if Fadel reacts the same way as he did at the end of episode 6...and then slowly tries to find out what he's been lying about, he's not going to come up with a lot because Style wouldn't be lying. he would have no clue that he was being suspected of anything. He'd be totally clueless as to why his boyfriend is acting strange.

Fadel would also probably get frustrated at that because Style wouldn't act like a snitch would act. (He acts strange a few times in canon and Fadel would definitely be looking back on those moments with suspicion after the fact) So, if a confrontation happens, whether violent or not, Style would end up feeling more betrayed than Fadel. and Fadel would come face to face with the fact that Style literally didn't know a damn thing and he's spent all this time treating him with suspicion and anger and maybe even trying to punish him for hurting Fadel, when his feelings were genuine. I think Fadel would then redirect all the anger and frustration he feels at Kant for NOT telling Style who he was and tricking him into this whole thing because Fadel could have killed Style and it would have been the wrong thing to do because he was oblivious the whole time.

It would have definitely been interesting to see that all play out. I think it would have shown even more true concern from Style towards Fadel, and more confusion for Fadel when he'd try to catch him in lies and come up empty.

[asktheritobowyer]

(This is the blogger here, making a post that I never thought I'd be making, but due to recent events, regarding threads, and my inbox, I feel like I need to)

First of @askthenewritoelder @asktheritochampion @asksakitherito @askaritobard @askthehylianchampion I want to make it make clear, none of you are at fault for this, nor could any of you have predicted your replies, or posts would have caused something like this to happen.

As @asktheritochampion said on their blog there has been no drama, or anything of the sort between us, just bloggers having fun with the characters, engaging, and creating fun scenario's for us to play out.

Unfortunately with that said, for the past couple of days, my inbox has been flooded with nothing but death threats to myself and the character of Harth.

I've had messages telling me to kill myself. I've had messages telling me they hope Harth commits suicide. I've had messages hoping Harth gets killed in his sleep by Tulin in graphic detail. I've had messages telling me they look forward to Teba stabbing Harth to death and taking Molli. I've had messages saying they hope Revali kidnaps Molli and kills Harth. I've had messages hoping Saki cooks Harth and feeds his remains to Rito Village. I've had messages telling me Harth is going to get hacked into pieces by Link, and he's going to eat him. I've had messages hoping I die for not falling in line and loving Revali like everyone else. I've had asks saying Harth should make a bow and shoot himself with it. etc...

It really is as bad as I'm describing. I sincerely wish it wasn't. Nor will I show the asks, as they're incredibly graphic and disturbing to read. I haven't gotten any genuine asks lately. Just simply death threats, or messages hoping I die, or Harth dies, or Molli getting taken away because Harth gets killed by someone. I've counted 60 so far and counting.

It goes without saying I'm here to have fun. I'm here to enjoy myself. I'm here to interact with others. I'm here to have fun answering asks in character. I'm here to engage with other threads. I'm here to respectfully freely express my feelings and opinions to others, and respect their opinions. I'm here to get into all sorts of fun shenanigans with Harth.

I didn't come here to be harassed. I didn't come here to get ridiculed for being different. I didn't come here to be sent constant death threats because I think differently. I didn't come here so people can tell me they hope Harth dies, so someone else can take his daughter. etc...

I understand people may like a character, but there comes a point where you shouldn't take things to this extent because someone has a different stance to someone else. Things have been taken way out of context, and people have gone to the extremes in my inbox.

We all have different opinions and should respect them. We should be polite to one another regardless of the differences. I'm just someone looking to have fun with others, and create stuff by myself or with them. Nothing more nothing less.

There's a right way to engage with someone and express yourself. This isn't that way. I don't want to make posts like these, but I'm hoping in doing so people are mindful of what their doing and the effect it can have on someone simply wishing to enjoy themselves.

[indiestsnake]

okay. for real this time. Major In Stars and Time spoilers for act 3 and beyond. To my wonderful friends playing this masterpiece, to no further. To potential readers, buckle up. This gets long ._.

I thought this game was done with causing me symptoms of emotional exhaustion and stress overload. I was wrong.

Acts 5 and 6 of this game caused the most emotion a video game has ever inflicted on me. Like- the tightness in my chest was an emotion I can only describe as grief. Genuine grief. I felt like I needed to sob for most of act six, for multiple reasons.

Let’s start at the fuckin transition I guess!!!!!!!!!! Siffrin finally thinks they figured it out, and they haven’t. The genuine fear I felt in the cutscene with Euphrasie, the realization that… that this was it, Siffrin was simply stuck. I believed it. I could not find a way to break my suspension of disbelief. I fully, genuinely could not believe that this game had a happy ending. I did not know this game only had one ending, but even if I did, it… I don’t think it would’ve done anything.

The following monologue was the usual terrifying, the game using its informal dialogue to reap horrific subversive effects as usual. Of course it saved some tricks for this moment, like taking away control of when the dialogue progressed. Watching Siffrin snap so thoroughly, lose all his hope and cling to the thought of defeating the king alone because he doesn’t know what else to do, it… it really breaks you.

So. Now that the game has maximized my potential sympathy for Siffrin. And torn my empathetic heart to shreds. It immediately turns on a heel and makes me hate them within three conversations. The things they say to Mira, Odile, Bonnie, Isa, made me so thoroughly angry. I would not blame Odile for actually harming him. I would not blame Mira if she never spoke to him again. I would not blame Bonnie for never wanting to even think about him again. And I would not blame Isa if he no longer loved Siffrin.

I am a person who believes in redemption. In second chances. The readers of my fics know this well. But sadly, actions have to have consequences. And the actions Siffrin takes should have lost him his friends, his family, forever. Even in his circumstances. They had no reason to keep caring.

So then, reeling from the genuine sense of loss and grief and hate and despair, Siffrin nicks the orbs and goes in alone. Through about, what, 20-30 minutes of gameplay, this tension persists. The game didn’t even need to barrage me with monologues, just show those conversations of the family Siffrin left, tear apart the house and the menus and the game till it was barely recognizable. Siffrin. The Lost One, says his profile. Memory of emptiness. Rock, paper, scissors. It’s so dry. So dull. So full of despair and pain and fear and a question of what he could ever do to deserve this hell. He can’t go back. He cannot find the hope or will or anything to go through with it, to follow the script. So even if this does break the loop. What then? He is left with a world where the people he loves most despise him.

Then finally, he reaches the king.

The fight is almost dull. Simplistic. Full of pain. Siffrin does not need a shield to withstand the vision of the future. Because the world they live in cannot get any worse. Nothing scares him more than the hell he now exists in.

Then, he begins to freeze. The king slows him down. And he falls asleep.

The following sequence was just… indescribable. The sadness variant of him, Mal du Pays. French for “homesickness”. Just a simple drawing of Siffrin. The music. The dialogue. The words that come from its mouth. From the party’s mouths. Siffrin tries to say it’s fake. Isabeau’s segment convinces him it’s not.

I didn’t even realize what was happening till it flashed forward and gripped the screen by the face.

He was turning into a sadness.

The frame of his sadness gripping the screen, like many of ISAT’s frames, is something I can’t manage to forget. The cloak and the face and the way it fills the screen so suddenly and finally speaks as itself, not as Siffrin’s party. And he can’t fight it. They just can’t. The universe leads, but he is tired. And now, he can rest. If he just lets go.

In that moment, I was staring at a black screen, begging, pleading for the credits not to roll.

And then he wakes up.

Because his friends are back.

Despite what he said and did, they knew he didn’t mean it. And if he did, they didn’t care. It was clear something was wrong, and they were determined to fix it. Because they were his friends.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a game manage to convey self-hatred so convincingly that I, the player, began to hate my character in a way their friends could not. In fact, I was not aware that was a thing that could happen.

I don’t even know how to express the feelings this give me coherently. It feels like this game snatched away one of my closest moral beliefs only to clothesline me with said belief so I learned it even harder. What Siffrin did was not unforgivable. But it truly convinced me that it was.

So of that when all hope seemed truly, truly lost. It pulled the basic trope of “your friends come help when you thought you were alone”. And it nearly knocked me out of my chair.

First off, get fucked king. Second off, happy for you king.

And then the walk to Euphrasie. I was mixed with giddy glee and unending dread for this whole thing. Isa helps Sif walk while Bonnie holds their hand. Color exists again but only red and oh god the world is ending. Euphrasie is still broken oh god please no don’t send me back don’t take this from me please no no no no WAM REVERSE BOSS FIGHT

Cue that scene. I wasn’t exactly happy that my only option aside from hurting my friends was hurting myself. But it did not take long for me to start groaning in annoyance when Mira healed me.

And then. Against all odds. Siffrin breaks. As does the text formatting as the party literally claws at the text box edges to yell at him.

They fall. Hands clasped together. And he tells them his wish. That he just wants to stay with them.

Of course. That’s all he ever wanted.

And oh god, oh thank every deity, that’s all they want too.

And he finally gets a god-damn motherfucking son of a bitch eye-losing tear-jerking MOTHER FUCKING HUG

and damn it was a good one. poor guy was all squimshed. lost his hat too

the rest of the dialogue is just. amazing. I was gigging and smiling and shaking and vibrating with joy before I even finished Mirabelle’s segment. Walking to Bonnie was when I realized it felt like I wanted to cry. During Bonnie’s dialogue was when I almost did cry. Then Odile. Who I obviously asked for the long version of her theory and she was very helpful for explaining all the stuff. and then.

Isabeau.

oh. my. fucking. god.

the joy I felt when he said it. The leap I leapt, ungracefully dancing over to my bed and mouthing screams of joy. I genuinely just collapsed and writhed around like a fish out of water in happiness. You know how some folk flap their hands to stim? Yeah, imagine that but my whole body. I was so unbelievably happy. I don’t know how a game did this much to me.

The rest of the dialogue was wonderful too. Sif apologized for everything, even the optional events, even admitted the bad touch event. And of course. Isa freaked the fuck out. Because oh my god Sif kissed him. And then when Sif clarifies that it was not a good kiss. He just thinks for a moment like. “…………. Maybe u just need more practice!!! ^^” and it was at that point Siffrin and Isabeau plushies manifested in my hands and I mashed their faces together like barbie dolls

Mira doesn’t want self-spoilers and thats hilarious. Bonnie has no fucken clue what’s going on but she knows Sif was hungry sick and at school so all is well. Odile admits she linguine’s him and yes I fucking love that joke. SIF’S HOME COUNTRY MIFHT APPEAR IN THE DISTANCE????? AND ISA AND SIF ARE GOING ON A FUCKING DATE

and it was at this point I saved my progress, crossed my heart, and prayed Euphrasie would not send me back.

And she didn’t.

oh, god, this game…

welp. this post is two hours in the making. dunno if any of this is coherent but I think if you’ve played isat you get it. thank you to everyone who’s been blowing up my liveposts recently!!! it’s been cool to see the fandom giggle evilly at my suffering :3

tho my contributions to the Isat fandom do not end here. the fic is imminent. I could not stop it if I wanted too. If you couldn’t tell by the essay you just read.

thank you for reading this far if you somehow did!!!! hope you enjoyed my nonsensical babbling. I’m gonna go pass out. have a good day!!!!!!! .3

[dimensionhoppinghybrids]

Dave gave a nod, and hummed, giving a moment for him to think.

"it was." He admits. "Imagine having a god that is your companion. I could do anything gor you, solve all your issues with a snap..." Dave said softly. "But at the same time," he offered. "What would it offer you when I'm not there to make times easier? Its why I've done what i can to help and support, but not do everything on my own." He offered. His tail swished, trying to put his thoughts to words.

"What i can say about your futures. You will overcome great hardships, and many challenges. I know of a few in particular. But I don't know the whole story. But id like too. I only really knew two of you, but that doesn't mean I'm unwilling to learn more about all of you. For instance, Beast. I never met you before, hut i can tell you have a weight on your shoulders. I know a little. Maybe, on why. You are a survivor. But i hope that you can rely on those in this group to help you when you need it." He offered.

"Sebille. I don't know your story either, but i can make educated guesses of my own. I don't fault your thorns. I don't fault your attitude. But i hope to see that there is more to you." He offered.

"Lohse. Of you I've only heard bard tales.your story goes far, even in the future. I've neve heard you sing, but i genuinely hope too." He offered, then smiled at Fane and Ifan.

"I knew little of you both. I think by your own designs. I only heard stories. Specifically of the lone wolves and of your kind Fane. But that's all they were at the time. Stories, even if true but ahain, that doesn't mean im not willing to learn more." He offered.

"Now,my good people. We are trying to find a sanctuary. Im more than happy to keep you safe until we find it." Dave offered kindly to the lost people as he turned around, letting the others get a chance to talk and think.

Because now there was an important decision to make. Would Dave stay, lr would he go?

This is why he'd been reluctant to reveal this so soon.

Dave gives an appreciative nod. He could just dispell the curse of flames. But there was more to it.

He had heard mention of these pigs, abd how at least one of them had been returned to a human form.

So Dave stepped forward and he reached out with his magic, finding the weave of spells that held them together in the forms they held.

He gently reached out like he was plucking errant threads off a tapestry, and he slowly pulled, stretched the web.

It felt like a green and oily thing. Full of biting and angry spiders. But he was deft in his control, then snipped the strings away in one fell swoop.

What the others of course saw were his eyes, mane and tail glowing, a heat haze of mana suffusing his surroundings, purifying the very ground and air he occupied, then heard a loud crack as the curses broke.

Not only did he stop the fire from eternally burning them, but he also turned them back to human.

Yes, there was that statue he remembered in the sanctuary that was in this swamp.

But Dave didn't feel like he could just leave them as they were, suffering like that.

It was the age old tale of responsibility, power, and wisely using it.

"There." Dave offered with a smile. "I hope you all feel better." He said, then a damned lizard skeleton appeared.

She was about to say something, but Dave out of reflex, punched her.

Right on the noggin.

It wasn't even out of anger, it was just pure reflex.

Her skull did not survive. So the undead creature, free of its bondage, simply collapsed.

"Oops. Was i not supposed to do that?" He asked.

[hawkeene]

okay i finished 6a (only 5 eps left to go now!) and i'm genuinely so emotional about demetri and hawk (as i always am) because genuinely, all of their issues always stem from how much they love each other.

in s1-3, eli changes. he becomes hawk. and he gets popular! and he stops getting bullied! and his life isn't hell anymore, and fuck, he likes himself a little bit more. but demetri doesn't. demetri who's been by his side forever, who has always been his best friend, half of himself even, looks at him stronger, happier, more confident and just... looks away. and it makes hawk so mad because everyone else loves him now. everyone but demetri. and everyone isn't enough. he needs demetri to love him too. but demetri refuses to for some reason, and he even refuses to call him by his new name. he flat-out refuses to acknowledge the person he's become, and it hurts hawk so much. but being hurt by something like this is for pussies, so he turns it into anger, and he lashes out again demetri constantly. if demetri refuses to clap, then hawk will give him an actual reason not to. and to add to it all, he thinks demetri doesn't love him anymore. and yet, hawk can't stop loving him.

and demetri, on the other hand, has loved eli his entire life. even when no one else did, demetri loved him, oh, so much. until one day, eli changes. he has a new look, a new haircut, a new tattoo, new friends, and a new personality even. and suddenly, demetri is on the outside looking in. it had always been him and eli against the world, but now eli is in the world, and demetri is left standing on the edge alone. and he doesn't get it. their friendship has always been everything he needs, so why does eli need more? why isn't he enough anymore? and now eli is slipping through his fingers, and demetri can barely recognize his friend anymore. and he tries so hard to hang on, but all eli ever does is push him away. so demetri pushes back. because clinging hurts too much, and clearly eli doesn't want anything to do with him anymore, so why does his chest hurt when he looks at him?

they're both so angry at each other, because they still love each other so much. hawk is mad at demetri because he still loves him so much. because demetri is the one part of eli he can't seem to get rid of. even when he tries his best to drown it, this fondness, this love he has for demetri manages to break through to the surface, and hawk just can't let that happen. so he pushes demetri, farther and farther, hoping demetri will finally give up on him, on them. but he doesn't give up. even when he's mad at hawk, even when they've been at odds for months, he tells him "you'd actually hurt me?". and then, again "please, stop, it's me". even after everything hawk has done, demetri still believes there's something there, between them.

and then s6 rolls around, and again, love is the issue. demetri has planned his entire life with eli (around eli) for... forever. and when they made up, he just assumed that was back on track. that whatever path he walked, eli would walk beside him. wherever he'd go, eli would go, because he would go anywhere eli does. and that's such a given for him. that is never questioned even once. once they start talking about uni with their friends, demetri never once asks eli where he's going because, duh, he's going to MIT with him. demetri and eli will be together, tomorrow, in 3 weeks, in 3 years. it is a fact of nature. it is the one thing demetri is always sure of.

but on the other hand? hawk has grown, and changed, and he's become so much more than he ever thought he would be. and he still loves demetri, and robotics, and designing, and nerd shit, but he also knows there's more to him now, and some part of him wants to explore that! and when he tells demetri he might not be going to MIT, when he tells him he wants to "keep his options open" (insane dialogue choice btw), he doesn't understand demetri's reaction. because he's so confident in the strength of their relationship, he doesn't really see what the issue is? and because of that, because the thought that being away from each other could change things never even once crosses his mind, he reads demetri's anger as obsession, as being a control freak, instead of the fear that actually hides behind it. because there's no fear in hawk's mind. even if they go to different schools, they'll always be in each other's lives, they'll always love each other, so why is demetri reacting like this?

they're mad at each other because how much they care and love for each other creates a huge misunderstanding. if eli doesn't want to go to MIT with demetri, that's a personal attack on demetri, on their relationship, and it must mean eli doesn't love him as much as he does him. if demetri reacts so vehemently to hawk exploring his options, it's because he's a control freak who still refuses to love and accept hawk for who he's become.

and it's just... it's so fascinating. each time they're having major issues, love is the fucking problem. the love they have for each other is exactly what's driving the wedge between them. because both times, demetri loves eli so much he doesn't understand why he needs anything more than them, because he certainly doesn't, he never has. because both times, hawk doesn't understand why the person he loves most refuses to love him for who he is, fully, and that hurts so much because he's the only one whose opinion really matters.

[twst-hottest-takes]

When Pomefiore first came out on the JP server a few years ago, I genuinely thought that Neige's cutesiness was just an act and that he was far darker behind closed doors. But, nope. Turns out that Neige is completely "what you see is what you get", and that really threw me off. I'm not the only one. I'm not the only one. Other fic writers in this fandom like LeaderPinhead have said that they thought the same thing.

While it's fine that Yana never went in that direction, she never did anything with his character either. He's just a cardboard cutout for Vil to sneer at and literally nothing else. It's so bad that Vil ironically is the better Snow White analog. Vil is similar to her personality wise, being hardworking, adaptable, assertive and at times kind. He has plenty of flaws like being overly domineering, being too blunt and harsh among other things, but that's a good thing. Those negative traits only make him feel like a real person and a modern male version of Snow White. Neige's similarities are limited to only his looks. His backstory makes no sense and comes right out of nowhere. (Seriously, why wasn't he and the dwarves taken in by Child Protective Services, if he was a minor in modern times?) That's such a waste to me. Neige is the antagonist of the Pomefiore arc, so there should be more to him than that.

However, if I wrote this story, I would do just that. Make Vil the one based on Snow White and Neige is based on the Evil Queen, being like Maurice Cole from Black Butler.

While I haven't read Black Butler, from what I heard from one of my friends and after watching a summary video of the Public School Arc, Cole is Redmond's helper (not using the manga's term because it's a slur). He has a cutesy demeanor, coming off as courteous and polite. He is beloved in the school. Behind closed doors, he's the worst, and, in all honesty, is like a modern version of the Evil Queen. He's a vain asshole, who hates hard work, and frequently leaves his duties to those beneath him. He is willing to resort to underhanded methods to get what he wants. When someone does something better than him, he will make sure to knock them down.

Why couldn't Neige be more like that? Don't get me wrong. I don't think Neige should've been a copy and paste of that other character. Hell, I would argue that differentiating them is a good thing. Not only to change things up, but according to that same friend, he's boring and lazily written. Plus, I don't see Neige doing one of Cole's despicable actions being ever greenlit by Disney. But I think giving Neige some of those same traits would be a step in the right direction. That way he would have a personality and be an actual threat to Vil.

I have seen a lot of people say similar things about their expectations for Neige actually.

Thank you for your take.

You've made a very thoughtful entry here, and I will leave it mostly for others to read and respond to because I think this is an interesting conversation to be had.

My own thoughts are short, that I definitely like the idea of Neige being more characterized so that he can be more of, you know, a character, but I never really liked the idea of him being secretly nasty. I feel like there's too much stock in the corruption of innocence and really would like to have a character as straightforward and just nice as Snow White was--though to be fair we do have Kalim already so people might not want another character too similar to him. In any case maybe a fun idea would be Vil being paranoid about Neige like "No one of his celebrity is that nice!" and part of his beef with him is being annoyed by the idea that Neige is just that genuine. TWST fails at making much out of that rivalry though. With Yana's writing history for Black Butler and such I don't blame people for thinking there should have been a darker side here.

[pistol-grippump]

->

Taking it upon myself to actually research into the columbine case has taught me that I really see myself in Dylan. Alas, many people do, but something about him tells me his sadness is my sadness. Something so endearing about the way he felt and how he visualized what he felt that is so strange. It constantly feels like I am the only one who feels this specific type of sad and alone, though I understand it feels like that about many things.

Seeing myself in someone like Dylan Is quite scary, I'd say? I would never go through with things he did, but I can't say the case doesn't have an influence. In total time, I have probably spent more than 7 hours in the last couple days crying and wanting nothing more than to be gone; to have an escape. I don't agree with Dylan and Eric's actions. Of Course, I can find a way to understand but I can admire their suicidal tendencies. I can admire the confidence to have actually taken their own lives.

Of Course though, it was a mix of not wanting to deal with their consequences as well as finding it as the perfect moment, yeah? They had already ruined their lives, he felt as though as Life wasn't worth living. I just want to know if it was fulfilling to him? To Eric? I want to know whether or not it had happened all exactly as they wanted.

It's ashame nobody will know now.

I don't think I could have prepared myself for the recent emptiness I've felt, not so much of a want to have been in Dylan's presence but just so desperate to escape. Maybe it is insensitive but can you blame me for wishing it was me?

Me who they shot? I wouldn't have to do it myself, that's more than enough. And alas, we'd both be dead together after all. A feeling of peace. A chance to genuinely solely understand their thought process.

As someone who is still fairly tame about true crime yet have an insane boundary problem about every case I get infatuated with, I get worried my words will just be seen as surface level fangirling to any of the cases I cling to. And of course this is cringe as well, but I always feel like I have a special sort of understanding towards these people? Not like a, 'i can fix him' way but in a, if I were them, I would illute to the same things.

Obviously their actions are horrible (that goes without saying) but I kind of wish the average person took time to understand that everyone is troubled. I don't believe 'good' people exist in the world. Yes, you can do good acts and you can make good impact, but there are no good people. Perfection isn't possible and I truly feel that the only way to be a good person would be to be perfect.

Everyone is evil. Everyone has faults and hopefully it eats at everyone. I feel like everyone on this planet should feel a sense of hopelessness to an extent; you don't know what it's like to be dead. You don't know if your actions here have genuine consequences when you're dead and gone. You don't know anything, neither do I. Neither did Eric and Dylan, neither did anyone who did similar acts. Nobody here knows anything. Nobody knows anything about anything and I wish we as a whole could accept that.

It bleeds into religion for me. I have never had faith or anything despite being brought up Christian. It was one of those things that have always just been fantasy to me. The concept of the Bible is so warped, inconsistent, unrealistic. It doesn't seem justifiable under any circumstance to me, good for anyone who can see it in the light but I don't think I could ever think that. There is something so false about any concept of any god or afterlife.

It's frustrating though because I know I don't truly think that. I think there is some sort of after life, whether it's reincarnation or infinite nothingness for those who died. I just don't think my - or anyones - actions right now have any impact when it's all said and done.

[urauntiefaye]

plss do toxic!bf's gongfourz whom have a big ass crush on you and outright refuse to share you with anyone else out of their "little world of three pieces"

Toxic!Bf's Leehan and Taesan

WC: 729 

TW: Toxic Leehan and Taesan, Them threatening others, gaslighting/manipulating y/n. Yandere maybe? I think that’s all, let me know if I forgot anything!

A/N: I did it in bullet format if that’s okay bebe

This idea lowkey reminds me of Hikaru and Kaoru with Haruhi from Host Club ngl, like if y’all watched the anime ya know that one episode where it’s the twins fight, and they go in about they how they only had a world of their own until Haruhi came in? So imagine that but with Leehan and Taesan and like toxicity/almost yandere tendencies. Bear with me on this one gang.

Coming from elite rich families led Taesan and Leehan to grow up with one another. Their families are not only close, but Taesan and Leehan also had to go to the same schools growing up. They both also have issues with getting along with others but for different reasons. 

Leehan struggled forming relations with other people because he simply just couldn’t care. Finding it hard to care about others' interests and what they have to say. He doesn’t hate people per say. But he just can’t find a way to form any sense of interest or attachment for them. 

Taesan on the other hand hates people. Finding everyone to be fake and superficial. He realized quickly at a young age that people always hide their true intentions and that the only reason they talk to him is because of his parents and wealth. 

That being said, the two only really liked each other as they only trusted one another. Often seen only hanging with each other, blocking others out of their world. 

Until one day they met you. 

You were genuine and honest about everything you said. For Taesan he fell for you because of that aspect of your personality. Never hiding your true intentions along with not really caring about his family's lineage. 

Leehan however fell for you because of how you made him feel. The first interaction with him he thought he was having a heart attack. No one has ever made him feel any type of emotion before, so he got addicted to you and the emotions you made him feel quickly. You were the drug, and he was the addict.

Taesan and Leehan's world would open up for you and you only. Everyone would be surprised as they never seen either of them do that before as it was originally just those two. Some even grew jealous of you. 

To you it only seemed that they wanted to be your friend but in reality, it was because they had a crush on you and can’t take the chance of you being with anyone else. 

Now being a part of their lives, it was no longer a world of 2 but a world of 3. 

You saw no issue with this at first as you were just happy you made some friends. It also helped that they were comfortable with you and showed you sides of them they never showed anyone but each other. 

But that would slowly change. 

Being friends with them also came with rather toxic tendencies from both of them. 

Leehan often ‘lectured’ you about talking or trying to befriend others as those other people had bad intentions. Telling you that you could only trust them because they would never use or hurt you. But would try to disguise it as him just being concerned and worried for you. 

Taesan however had a bad habit of fighting people because of you. Especially other males. If another guy as much as looked in your direction they would be met with either Taesan glaring at them or getting ready to throw a punch at them. 

If someone tried to talk or befriend you, they would interrupt and gain your attention leading you away from the other person. Later that day they would threaten the other person behind your back. Even going to the extremes of telling the person “If you even as much as think about telling y/n about this we will kill you”. Along with threatening their family's business as they had that kind of power. 

Slowly but surely no one else would want to talk to you out of sheer fear leaving you only with Leehan and Taesan. You would get upset and come to them crying. 

Feigning innocence and sympathy as they comforted you. But secretly being happy, because this is exactly what they wanted. They refuse to share you with anyone as you ‘belonged’ to them and them alone.