#need to change something small and controllable

[mattsnight]

Hide it - Matt Sturniolo

Summary: in which Matt hides his feelings for you, but eventually can’t take it anymore.

Warnings: fluff, cursing,

A/N:

Matt couldn’t hide it any longer. He couldn’t hide his love for you. His feelings were hard to control when you were around. It was sickening. He didn’t say anything about it, because he didn’t want to hurt you or ruin the friendship you guys have. It was too important for, but he also couldn’t stuff his feelings away any longer. He was in love with you and that was a problem.

Every time you hang out with Nick Matt’s in the room. He’s always staring at you, but when you turn to look at him he quickly turns away. You didn’t think much of it, until things changed. Matt started acting weird. He was always stuttering around you and didn’t have proper conversations with you.

You had come to the triplets’ house to make some pictures with Nick. The house was mostly quiet, only soft sounds were heard from Matt’s room. He was most likely playing fortnight. You sat down on the couch, waiting for Nick to return from his room.

“Oh hey y/n..” you suddenly hear a voice say. You look at the figure, it’s Matt. A small smile forms on your face as you wave at him. He freezes at your smile, regretting his decision of coming out of his room. He was already getting nervous at the fact of his crush being infront of him. Suddenly a wave of confidence washes over him. It was now or never. “Y/N i can’t do this anymore.” He says, swallowing.

“Can’t do what?” You ask, looking at him in confusion.

“I-“ he runs his hand through his hair. There’s a moment of silence. He doesn’t know what to say. He can’t just say ‘hey im in love with you! Can we make out?’ can he? Another deep breath leaves his mouth as he tries to get himself together. “Fucking hell..” He holds his breath as he looks into your eyes to see any kind of reaction. “Can’t you see how obsessed i am with you?” A surprised sound leaves your mouth. You don’t say anything for a while, surprised by his confession.

“Jesus Y/N, say something please.” He begs. His nervousness gets worse within seconds. Did you hate him now? “I- you like me?” You ask. Realization hits you hard. He actually likes you. Your mind goes blank at the thought, all your thoughts vanishing. He slides both his hands into his pockets, hiding how badly he’s sweating.

“Yes Y/N and im tired of you not noticing! I tried everything to make you look at me, yet it’s not working.” He groans mentally, blaming himself for raising his voice at you. “Sorry… i-“ he starts, but gets cut off when you slam your lips against his. This kiss was everything he needed. Everything he needed to know you had the same feeling about him and it was amazing. It wasn’t passionate, just full of love and desperation.

Your hands slide into his hair, gently pulling at it to get closer. His hands go down your sides, gripping you tightly. You slowly start backing up into a wall, which he does too. Then he pulls back to get some air. You look up into his blue eyes, smiling. He smiles back almost immediately, wiping your hair out of your face. “That was..” he chuckles, still a hit breathless. “So fuckin’ amazing.”

Suddenly you hear a laugh behind you. You turn around to see Nick standing there. He had watched the whole scene and was laughing by it. Matt rolls his eyes, before looking away. “Took you long enough, kid. Will you stop bothering me now you’ve kissed the girl?” Nick smiles, before looking at you. “He wouldn’t stop talking about you. Seriously. It was so tiring.”

A small smile forms on your face. You look at Matt who’s now filled up with embarrassment. “I’ll leave you guys alone. Let’s do the pictures another time, alright?” Nick suggests. You nod, knowing you need time to let this sink in and spend some time with Matt.

This was gonna be great.

no nut november fic 3! I hope yall like this💞 (also i wont be posting as much since i need to learn for assignments and stuff</3)

[cazshmere]

12th House Sign in the Natal Chart and How you can Heal and Find Closure from Past Wounds 🩵

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER : healing is a journey, not a destination, and everyone moves at their own pace. these tips are here to give you a nudge, not to create pressure or perfection. if you’re reading this and some things resonate, that’s wonderful :) take what feels right and leave the rest. and remember, there’s no one right way to heal or find closure. it’s okay to stumble, feel lost, or take a break. trust that every small step forward, even the tiniest ones, are part of the process. be kind to yourself along the way; you’re doing the best you can 🩵

🧩 aries in the 12th house

1. you’re bold in action, but sometimes hesitant in introspection. reflect on fears you might avoid and tackle them directly, like you would any challenge.

2. pent-up frustrations weigh on your subconscious. try activities like boxing, painting, or writing letters you’ll never send.

3. give yourself time alone without needing constant action. Silence and stillness help you get in touch with buried emotions.

4. reflect on times you acted quickly and accept that growth often means making mistakes.

5. indulge in something silly, like playing a game or watching cartoons. It helps you reconnect with yourself. watching your comfort movie with your favourite snacks will surely help

HEALING TIP : try journaling with a twist : write letters to yourself from different ages, like your 5-year-old self or your future self, to see your emotions from new perspectives. this could be super cathartic for you and help you move through the hard feelings holding you back also try meditation that is targeted towards inner peace

🧩 taurus in the 12th house

1. learn to release your hold on past pain. Healing for you often means loosening your grip on comfort zones, even in memories.

2. reflect on areas where you’ve felt unappreciated, finding self-worth from within rather than external validation.

3. you resist change, so make small, gradual adjustments to your daily life that invite healing over time.

4. practice acceptance of things you cannot control or predict; even small, symbolic acts like letting go of a token can help.

5. revisit an old hobby that once brought you joy, like gardening, knitting, or cooking. it’ll remind you of your inner peace.

HEALING TIP : try a sensory grounding exercise: touch something soft, listen to calming music, and smell something grounding like lavender to soothe your mind and body. also something that can temporarily help is watching a super scary movie or just eating spicy food, it can help you distract yourself from your thoughts, at least momentarily

🧩 gemini in the 12th house

1. your mind runs fast, but your 12th house challenges you to slow down and acknowledge buried insecurities.

2. release old narratives, whether it’s past gossip, harsh words, or regrets, let go of thoughts that weigh you down. Practice rephrasing past stories with kindness.

3. try creative outlets that let you express emotions without words, like art or dance, to connect with deeper feelings.

4. when you socialize, make time for connections that feel supportive and honest, without intellectual posturing.

5. quieting your inner monologue helps you access the quiet truths below the surface. Breathing exercises can help here.

HEALING TIP : try recording voice memos on your phone when you feel overwhelmed. Sometimes saying things out loud can help you make sense of them faster than writing.

🧩 cancer in the 12th house

1. you tend to tuck away your deepest fears. Make time to reflect on past emotions without judgment or the need to ‘fix’ them.

2. address any unconscious attachment to people or situations that no longer serve you, knowing it’s okay to need change.

3. offer compassion to yourself, revisit times when you felt misunderstood or unsupported, and give your younger self the love they needed.

4. learn to let go without feeling abandoned. Spend time nurturing your sense of self apart from your relationships.

5. forgive old wounds, allow yourself to release grudges or hurts, understanding that they don’t define your future connections.

HEALING TIP : write a letter to someone from your past you’ve never fully moved on from, then release it (you don’t have to send it).

🧩 leo in the 12th house

1. step back from needing validation, explore who you are outside of praise or recognition. spend time with yourself, just being rather than performing.

2. acknowledge areas where you might have felt rejected or unappreciated. practice self-love that doesn’t rely on others’ feedback.

3. try activities where you’re a beginner. learning something new can help you find power in vulnerability.

4. let go of ego-driven fears, focus on what makes you feel genuinely fulfilled, not just admired. reframe your goals around personal joy rather than approval.

5. reclaim your authenticity by exploring what brings you joy outside of an audience, like a private creative hobby that brings you peace.

HEALING TIP : try visualising your inner child, close your eyes and picture yourself as a child full of hope and joy, and send love to that younger version of you.

🧩 virgo in the 12th house

1. acknowledge that some things don’t need fixing. practice letting go without feeling the need to control every detail.

2. practice self-compassion, allow room for mistakes and honor your efforts without focusing solely on flaws. embrace your progress, not perfection.

3. stop overanalyzing (ik it’s hard but your overthinking is what causes majority of your problems, the more you overthink the more power you’re giving to those unwanted thoughts) give your mind permission to take a break. activities like meditative gardening or painting can help soothe the inner critic.

4. connect with your intuition, trust your instincts rather than rationalizing everything. allow yourself to simply “know” without overthinking it.

5. embrace the chaos haha, let things be messy or spontaneous without judgment. Flexibility helps you grow beyond rigid expectations.

HEALING TIP : try writing a list of what you’re grateful for, it's a simple but powerful tool to shift your focus from worries to abundance.

🧩 libra in the 12th house

1. find comfort in solitude, learn to enjoy your own company, separate from others’ opinions or companionship. practice inner peace.

2. let go of past people-pleasing, allow yourself to address buried feelings of resentment that may stem from overextending for others.

3. balance your inner harmony, focus on inner alignment rather than external harmony. Journaling or meditating on your needs helps you center.

4. heal relationship wounds, reflect on past connections that left an impact. release blame, knowing each taught you something valuable.

5. set boundaries with yourself, give yourself permission to say “no” without guilt. embrace your inner balance, free from others’ demands.

HEALING TIP : you can try a heart-centered meditation to connect with self-love and release neediness for outside validation or try a balance-focused yoga routine, it can be both grounding and soothing, helping you connect with your inner equilibrium.

🧩 scorpio in the 12th house

1. embrace your emotional vulnerability, lean into your feelings without fearing loss or control. Sharing emotions helps relieve hidden weight.

2. release grudges (ik this is something hard for you but letting go is better than holding on to the things that cause you problems - forgive but don’t forget perhaps), practice forgiveness as a way of releasing old hurts that drain you.

3. face your darkest worries with courage, knowing they don’t define you. Write them down and let them go.

4. reclaim personal power, you’re literally THAT bitch don’t forget that queen, focus on how you can empower yourself from within, instead of seeking control externally.

5. trust others with your feelings when it feels right; vulnerability can be deeply healing.

HEALING TIP : you can try shadow journaling by exploring both light and dark thoughts to understand yourself more deeply or if you want something fun instead try listening to a mystery podcast or an immersive story app where you can dive into thrilling narratives. this helps you tap into your emotional depth while being entertained, offering healing through mystery and intrigue.

🧩 sagittarius in the 12th house

1. look inward for meaning, sometimes answers lie within, not in new experiences. find fulfillment in self-reflection rather than escapism.

2. explore spiritual grounding, sagittarius craves meaning, so find practices that connect you to a sense of purpose, like guided meditation.

3. release judgment and let go of self-criticism about past “mistakes.” accept that growth is a journey, not a fixed outcome.

4. embrace introspection by giving your adventurous mind permission to slow down and find contentment in stillness.

5. cultivate patience please (so so important) you may be prone to quick fixes; practice patience with yourself and your journey to healing.

HEALING TIP : start a personal travel vlog (even if it's just to document your local adventures) or use digital journaling apps to record your thoughts, dreams, and philosophical insights. It’ll allow you to process your emotions while in a fun way <3

🧩 capricorn in the 12th house

1. release pressure to always be “on”, let go of needing to achieve every moment. It’s okay to just “be” sometimes, without a goal in sight.

2. forgive your past mistakes, address any old guilt you’re holding onto. you’re allowed to grow beyond your old decisions and learn without punishment.

3. embrace vulnerability (very important) being open about your feelings doesn’t weaken you; it strengthens your ability to understand and trust yourself.

4. trust life’s timing, not everything has to be perfectly planned. lean into moments of uncertainty and find peace in simply experiencing.

5. reflect on your worth beyond productivity, spend time exploring who you are outside of what you “do” or “produce.”

HEALING TIP : try weekly self-check-ins to connect with your needs and desires, away from the hustle of daily demands.

🧩 aquarius in the 12th house

1. embrace your quirks and shadows, you have a unique mind, so allow yourself to be different even in your struggles. reflect on hidden fears and accept them.

2. let go of needing to understand everything, release the need to overanalyze or intellectualize every emotion; trust that some things are just felt, not solved.

3. balance independence with connection, don’t isolate yourself too much. healing also comes through genuine human connections.

4. explore spontaneous introspection, give yourself the freedom to meditate or journal in unconventional ways, like painting or singing.

5. lean into self-compassion, you may be hard on yourself for being “too different” or processing wounds and hurts “differently” but learn to embrace that unique perspective as your strength.

HEALING TIP : try creative expression exercises that bring your thoughts to life, like freeform art, dance, editing, posting stuff online (blogs, reels etch) or sound journaling helps too.

🧩 pisces in the 12th house

1. set healthy boundaries with emotions, your empathy can pull you into others’ feelings. spend time differentiating between your own emotions and theirs.

2. give yourself closure without finality, understand that sometimes closure isn’t perfect or neat, and let go of needing every question answered.

3. create a soothing retreat, build a healing environment, like a cozy corner or blanket fort lmao, where you can escape and connect with your inner peace.

4. release victim mentality, move beyond past hardships by reclaiming your personal power and seeing yourself as a survivor, not a sufferer.

5. TRUST. YOUR. INTUITION. you’re naturally in touch with the unseen. lean into that gift by tuning into your feelings without judgment.

HEALING TIP : create a healing playlist filled with calming music, or even soothing ASMR sounds, to help you unwind and feel safe in your own space.

© cazshmere 2024 [All Rights Reserved]

banner & pic credits to the rightful owners <3

[gor3-hound]

ETERNITY — SUGURU GETO

a/n: hiii !! first geto fic on this account maybe?? shocker bcs i love him so bad... commission for @nexysworld !! love her so bad, pls check her out <3

cw: 18+ content, father-daughter incest, possessive behaviour, sheltered reader, mildly dubious consent, yandere-ish themes, very teeny tiny amount of religious themes, too. p in v, creampie, brief choking

Suguru Geto is not a man you would consider to be unkind, but there was very little affection within his actions. Your father was often patient with you - strict, but forgiving. When he touched you, it was always cold and clinical; always born out of necessity. 

Your mother had always been irrelevant to him, nothing more than a means to an end. That just so happened to be you, his daughter, and one and only heir. He had sensed the cursed energy within you the moment you were born, and he took you in to raise you on his own. He had no need for that woman anymore - she had served her purpose and bestowed him with a gift greater than any other.

Your life was free of troubles. Perhaps you did not get to play with the village children, but that was alright. You were allowed to play with the others within the compound. His followers were always kind to you, if not somewhat on edge in your presence. You did not understand it then, but now you realised the apprehension they held did not stem from your actions, but from fear of upsetting your father. You had been sheltered, yes, but you found you did not crave much else. You were well-fed, well looked after… It was hard to feel caged when the compound was all you had known.

Your youthful naivety could not last forever, and Suguru knew this. He dreaded your growth with each passing year, waiting for the questions that would come. He could keep you from the outside world, but he could not keep the outside world from you. He had many visitors, people looking to be cured of their ailments. He could keep you from watching these interactions, but he could see the way your curious eyes shone as you watched them come and go.

You asked him about the outside world only once, shortly after he had ‘cured’ a young child. You had been excited to see someone closer to your age, but his words quickly shut you down.

“The child has been plagued with demons,” He had told you simply, eyes cold as he glanced down at you. “I can keep them at bay, yes. But it would not do you well to socialise with others such as him. They will corrupt you.”

It had not convinced you entirely, and he could see that in your eyes. With a small frown, he kneeled before you, tilting his head to the side. “I extracted one from him. Would you like to see it?”

You nodded, as expected. Hopeful curiosity glimmering in your eyes, the idea of being shown something new and dangerous exciting to you. He sighs, allowing the cursed spirit he had absorbed free. He had no worry - he knew it was safely under his control. But he could see the fear in your eyes as it stalked towards you, the way you instinctively backed up, glancing at your father for protection.

“Daddy-” 

He lets its maw open inches from your body, the acrid stench of its breath filling the room as it goes to attack. He watches, unblinking, as you tremble and beg for his help, tears streaming down your face. Even still, he waits a few more seconds before driving his cursed tool through the spirit, exorcising it with ease.

“Do you see now why I cannot let you outside? It is far too dangerous for you.” You nod, clinging to him as you sob into the fabric of his robes. He lets you, holding you close to him. “I do not wish to see you hurt. Promise me you won’t ask to leave the compound again.”

“I promise.”

The years pass, and you do not dare mention leaving the compound again. Even as you reach adulthood, the memory of the demon you faced as a child keeps you biting back any requests of more freedom.

Something in your father has changed - you’re not sure what it is, but it leaves you with a lingering sense of unease whenever you cross his path. His gaze has become sharper, watching your every movement like he’s waiting for something. What it is, you’re unsure of. Your pulse is constantly racing when you’re forced to be in his proximity for more than a few seconds, but your brain can’t register what it is about him that’s making you so tense.

Your realisation comes to you slowly. You’ve seen that look before in some of them men that have wandered around the compound. Not directed at you, but you’re able to identify it all the same. 

Hunger.

Your realisation doesn’t come with any changes in his actions, but you can see in the subtle curve of his lips that he knows. He can sense that you act differently around him. Geto is an intelligent man, and it’s clear he planned for you to find out from the start. Months pass by without any changes in routine. You rarely see your father unless he deems it necessary to address you, his followers often being the ones responsible for ensuring you attend meals and stay within the compound.

Then, suddenly, he comes to you.

It’s the middle of the night when he wakes you with a gentle caress on your cheek. It’s one of the most affectionate touches he’s given you since you were a little girl, fingertips gently brushing over your cheekbones. When you meet his eyes, your heart stops beating for a moment.

His gaze is anything but kind. His jaw is set tight, and in that moment you realised how naive you were to think ignoring his glances would be enough to keep him at bay. Seeing your eyes widen with fear is enough for a sharp grin to spread across his face, his hand shifting to grasp at your hair, tilting your head back harshly.

“You're looking so beautiful these days, sweetheart.” Suguru murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, free hand grasping at your hip. “I thought about resisting my impulses, but it’s as if you were made to tempt me. Pure, kind, beautiful. Forbidden fruit is always said to be the sweetest, but I had never thought temptation would come to me in the form of my very own daughter.”

You stiffen under him, hands pushing at his chest. He tuts disapprovingly, his fingers slackening as he pulls his hand from your hair. Suguru slides his fingers down the side of your neck, delicately wrapping around your throat before he squeezes.

“Shh, calm down. It’s only me, bunny.” He purrs the nickname, one he has not used in years in an attempt to soften you, It works, momentarily, but your muscles still feel fraught with tension. He leans down, fingers tightening around your neck in a warning as he presses his lips to yours.

His mouth is hot against yours as he kisses you. He keeps the pace leisurely, almost teasing as he presses his chapped lips against yours, tongue coaxing your lips open. The hand on your hip slides under your shirt in a way that makes you jolt, immediately breaking the kiss.

“Daddy, wait-”

Suguru scoffs, raising a brow at you. “That makes you sound so childish. You're a big girl now, aren't you?”

“D-Dad?” You correct, feeling yourself squirm under his harsh gaze.

“Better.” He breathes out, lowering his head once more to lathe his tongue along the flesh of your throat, licking hotly at your quickening pulse beneath the skin. The hand on your bare slides higher, dragging the fabric of your shirt up until he’s cupping your breast, thumb brushing gently over your nipple. You gasp softly at the pleasure it brings, something that brings an unfamiliar heat searing through your veins as wetness pools in the gusset of your panties.

He grins at the gasp he draws from your lips, teeth gently nipping at your skin as he releases your throat. His thumb flicks over your nipple once more as he drags his other hand down, moving to feel the wetness seeping through your underwear.

“I promised I’d protect you, bunny, and I meant it.” He murmurs, tracing a finger down the middle of the dampened fabric. He feels you tremble as he brushes over your clit, so he presses down gently to hear you whimper.

“I meant it,” he repeats, “I won’t hurt you, I just want you to feel good. You trust me, don’t you?

It’s a question, but it sounds more like a threat. You felt that familiar sense of unease in the back of your mind. You hadn’t experienced these things before, but you weren’t clueless.  You knew this was wrong, that he shouldn’t be touching you like this, but as his thumb replaces his finger so he could gently rub circles into your clit, your apprehension melts.

“Good girl.” He praises, words smooth and sweet. His fingers hook in the waistband of your panties, and he slowly slides them down your legs. His eyes hone in on your cunt, slick with arousal that he caused. “Look at you.”

Shame burns your face as you close your thighs, attempting to hide yourself from his view. Suguru grabs your knees, prying your thighs away before sliding his body between them to keep them from closing again.

“What’s wrong? You said you trusted me, bunny. Why are you trying to hide from me?”

“I wasn’t, I… I’m sorry.” You reply, gaze dropping nervously. Your heart pounds almost painfully in your chest, feeling more ashamed for disappointing your father.

“I don’t want to punish you, darling. Don’t you want to be good for me?” He says quietly, his tone almost condescending. He doesn’t wait for a reply before he sinks a finger into your tight cunt, a groan rumbling his chest as he feels you squeezing the digit. “Such an innocent little thing. So tight and wet.”

Suguru pulls back briefly only to remove his clothing, settling between your legs once more. His thumb presses down the base of his cock, allowing himself to align the tip with your dripping hole. “This may hurt at first, but you need to relax for me. Can you be a good girl?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, voice soft and nervous. Suguru presses forward, sliding himself inch by inch inside of your tight heat until his cock is pressed to your cervix. Tears prick at your eyes from the sudden burn, your chest heaving with heavy breaths as he pauses to allow you to adjust to his size.

“Shh, shh. You’ll be alright, bunny. Your body was made for me, after all. It will feel good soon.” He promises, gently rocking his hips. “My sweet girl. I’d never have another have you like this. No, it has to be me. I won’t ever let anyone hurt you.”

He tries to be gentle with you - he has no intention to hurt his sweet little girl - but the way you squeeze around him feels divine. He’s sure he’s never felt anything so perfect before, feeling as though he’s being driven mad as your slick walls cling to his cock, sucking him greedily every time he starts to pull out. Suguru is not one to lose control, but he can’t find it within himself to hold back as he starts to fuck into you with earnest, pounding you into the mattress until you’re crying out with every thrust.

His hand falls to rest on your pelvis, thumb brushing your clit in a way that makes you mewl, arching into his touch. He grunts as you squeeze tighter around his cock, his hips stuttering as he rubs circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips buck, and he slams into you harder, bruising your cervix each time his hips snap forward. You’re so tight and warm and perfect around him, and he’s not sure how much longer he’s going to last inside of you.

He watches through hooded, lust-glazed eyes as your body coils up tight, the prettiest moans and whimpers spilling from your hips as you come undone around his length. His teeth clench at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him, the grip on your hip turning bruising as he fucks into you erratically, chasing his own release. His hips stutter before he stills, spilling deep inside of you with a low groan. His eyes squeeze shut, hand falling away from your clit to grip the sheets as he floods you with his cum.

“There we go, bunny.” He murmurs softly as he returns to himself, slowly pulling out of you. He sighs shakily, brushing some hair from your face. “You’re mine forever, darling. I’m never letting you stray from my side.” 

His tone alone assures you his words are a promise.

[lila-lou]

✨Taking her in - Pt. 9✨

Summary: After Dean Winchester saves your life, he brings you into the safety of the bunker. As you grow older and stronger, Dean refuses to let you join the hunts, his overprotective behavior intensifying. But beneath his fierce protectiveness lies something darker—conflicted feelings he can’t face. As your 18th birthday approaches, Dean struggles to keep control, torn between his duty to protect you and emotions he’s buried for too long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: HUGE Age Gap, Immoral, Underage Reader, Language, ANGST, fluff

Word Count: 8842

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

Eventually, the need to see his face, to gauge his expression, became too strong to resist. You tilted your head slightly, your eyes seeking his, hoping to find some kind of reassurance, some sign of what he was thinking. But Dean, ever the master of self-control, kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling, his jaw clenched as he fought the internal battle raging inside him.

He knew you were looking at him, could feel the intensity of your gaze, but he forced himself to stay still, to keep his eyes averted. He knew that if he looked down, if he met your gaze, he would be lost. The walls he had carefully built up to keep his feelings in check would crumble, and he would give in to everything he had been trying so hard to resist.

But the seconds ticked by, each one stretching longer than the last, and the weight of your gaze became impossible to ignore. He could feel you there, so close, and the pull was undeniable. His resolve weakened with each passing moment, the temptation too strong to resist.

Finally, as if drawn by an invisible force, Dean’s eyes slowly dropped to meet yours. The moment your gazes locked, something inside him snapped. He could see the vulnerability in your eyes, the silent plea for something more, and it broke through the last of his defenses.

The air between you seemed to crackle with tension, the room suddenly feeling too small, too intimate. Dean’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at you, really looked at you, and saw everything he had been trying to avoid for so long. The way you were looking at him, the soft vulnerability mixed with something deeper, something that mirrored the emotions he had been trying to bury—it was too much.

“(Y/N)…”. Dean’s voice was a whisper, rough and filled with a mixture of longing and restraint. He wanted to say something, to put a stop to whatever was happening between you, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he found himself inching closer, his grip on you tightening just slightly.

Your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest as you searched his eyes, trying to read the emotions flickering there. You could see the struggle, the way he was battling with himself, and it made your own emotions surge even more. You wanted to close the distance between you, to finally give in to the connection that had been building for so long, but a part of you was still scared—scared of what this could mean, of how it could change everything.

Dean’s gaze dropped to your lips for a brief moment, and you could see the internal battle playing out behind his eyes. He wanted this—wanted you—but he was fighting it with every ounce of strength he had. But as the seconds ticked by, it became clear that the fight was slipping away from him.

Before Dean could gather his thoughts or steel himself against the overwhelming tide of emotions, you made the first move. Your hand slid up, fingers gently grazing his stubbled cheek. The touch was soft, hesitant, yet filled with a silent promise, one that spoke of all the things you’d been too afraid to say aloud. The warmth of his skin under your palm sent a shiver through you, and you could feel the tension in his body as he struggled with his own conflicting desires.

Dean’s breath hitched, his eyes searching yours as you inched closer, the space between you shrinking until it was almost non-existent. Every inch of him was screaming to pull away, to keep you safe from the storm of emotions that threatened to consume you both, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t tear his gaze away from yours.

And then, with a courage you hadn’t realized you possessed, you closed the remaining distance. Your lips met his in a soft, tentative kiss that was as much an exploration as it was a confession. The moment your lips touched, it was as if something clicked into place—a connection that had been waiting for this exact moment, for this exact kiss.

Dean’s initial shock melted away almost instantly, and the restraint he had been clinging to dissolved like mist in the morning sun. His hand slipped up to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, pouring all the unspoken words and buried feelings into it. There was a hunger in the way he kissed you, a desperation that matched your own, as if he had been waiting for this moment just as long as you had.

The world outside ceased to exist; there was only the two of you, lost in each other. The kiss was both tender and urgent, a delicate balance of restraint and passion, as if you were both afraid this might be the only chance you’d get.

Dean’s other arm tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The feel of your body against his, the softness of your lips, the warmth of your breath—it was intoxicating, more powerful than anything he had ever felt before. Every part of him was on fire, and he didn’t want it to stop. He didn’t want to let you go.

As you pressed yourself closer to Dean, the kiss deepened, filled with an urgency that left both of you breathless. You shifted, one of your legs slipping over his hip, drawing him even closer. Dean’s hands moved instinctively, one sliding from your waist to your ass, pulling you tighter against him. The contact was electric, and the warmth of his body, combined with the feel of his erection pressing against your core, sent a jolt of desire through you.

A tight knot formed in your lower belly, the intensity of your emotions and physical sensations making it difficult to think clearly. The pressure, the heat, and the sensation of Dean’s hardness against you combined to overwhelm your senses. Unable to hold back, a soft, involuntary moan escaped from your lips, muffled by his mouth.

Dean responded to your moan with a low growl, his hands tightening their grip on you as he deepened the kiss even further. His own desire was becoming nearly unbearable, and the way you were pressing against him, the way you were responding to him, only fueled the fire burning inside him.

He shifted slightly, his hands moving to hold you more securely, ensuring that you were pressed flush against him. The urgency of the moment was palpable, both of you caught up in the raw intensity of the connection you had just established. The boundaries between you seemed to blur as you both gave in to the powerful emotions driving you.

But even as the heat of the moment consumed you, there was a flicker of hesitation in the back of Dean’s mind. He knew how significant this moment was, how it could change everything between you. Yet, as he felt your body against his, heard your breathy moans, he found it almost impossible to pull away. The mix of desire and care was almost too much to handle, and it made every instinct in him scream to stay, to hold you and cherish this moment for all it was worth.

You continued to move against him, your breaths coming in shallow gasps as you tried to keep up with the mounting intensity. The kiss was no longer just an exploration but a fervent exchange of passion and longing, each of you trying to communicate everything you couldn’t put into words.

As you clung to Dean, one hand gripping his biceps, the other buried in his hair, the sensations flooding your body became too much to contain. The pressure of your core against his erection, the steady, deliberate friction as you moved together, pushed you closer and closer to the edge. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, the combination of your emotions and the physical connection with Dean taking you to a place you hadn’t anticipated.

With each shift of your hips, the knot in your lower belly tightened, coiling with an intensity that left you breathless. Dean’s hands guided you, pulling you against him, the heat of his touch searing into your skin.

Then, without warning, the wave of pleasure crashed over you, your body tensing as you climaxed. The sensation was so powerful, so overwhelming, that you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips, muffled by the kiss. Your body shook in Dean’s arms, every muscle trembling as the pleasure washed over you in intense waves.

Dean felt you tense against him, the way your body shook as you came, and it was like nothing he had ever experienced before. The raw, unfiltered expression of your pleasure—the way you moaned into his mouth, the way you clung to him—was the hottest, most intimate thing he had ever witnessed. He was captivated by it, completely consumed by the sight and feel of you in his arms, lost in the moment.

Dean’s breath hitched as he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of awe and disbelief. The way your body had responded to him, the intensity of your release, was something he hadn’t anticipated, something that had shaken him to his core. His voice was a low, rough whisper as he asked, “Did you just…?”.

His words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you were too overwhelmed to respond. The reality of what had just happened began to sink in, and with it came a wave of embarrassment that made your cheeks burn. You could feel the slickness between your legs, a physical reminder of just how completely you had lost control in his arms, and it made you want to hide, to pull away and escape the vulnerability of the moment.

But Dean’s arms were still around you, holding you close, and the look in his eyes was anything but judgmental. He looked almost in awe, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened either. That didn’t stop the flush of embarrassment from flooding your system, making you want to look anywhere but at him.

Dean´s heart raced, his own desire throbbing through him with an intensity that bordered on painful. The knowledge that you had come just from being close to him, just from that little bit of friction, ignited something primal inside him. It took everything he had not to lose control right then and there.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper when you finally managed to speak. “I… I didn’t mean to…”. The words trailed off, your mind still reeling from the intensity of the moment and the sudden rush of emotions that followed.

But Dean didn’t say anything. Instead, he cupped your face with one hand. And without any hesitation, Dean leaned in and pressed his lips to yours again. The kiss was different this time—less desperate, more deliberate. It was as if he was trying to tell you with every movement of his lips that it was okay, that there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

The moment his lips touched yours, the tension that had been coiling inside you began to unravel. You melted into the kiss, letting go of the lingering embarrassment, the confusion, and the fear. All that mattered was the way Dean was holding you, grounding you in the present, making you feel safe and cherished.

Dean’s kiss deepened, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head as he pulled you closer, pressing your bodies together once more. The heat between you reignited, but this time it was slower, more controlled. There was a tenderness in the way he kissed you, a reverence that made your heart swell. He wasn’t just kissing you—he was telling you that he understood, that he was here with you, and that nothing about this scared him away.

Your hands found their way back to his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you lost yourself in the kiss. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect, intimate moment. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the way his breath mingled with yours.

When you finally pulled back for air, both of you were breathing heavily.

As you both pulled back, breathing heavily, the intensity of the moment hung in the air between you. The room felt charged with emotion, the weight of what had just happened settling in. But before any doubts or second thoughts could surface, before the moment could be ruined by uncertainty or fear, Dean gently guided your head against his chest.

You could feel his heart racing beneath your ear, the rapid thumping a mirror of your own. It was both reassuring and thrilling, a reminder that he was as affected by this as you were. His arm wrapped around you, holding you close, as if he was trying to shield you from the world outside, from any of the complications that might come with this new shift in your relationship.

Dean’s breath was still uneven, his body tense with the lingering desire that had built up between you. You could feel the hard press of his erection against your hip. It sent another wave of heat through you, your body responding to his in a way that felt both natural and inevitable.

But for now, neither of you moved.

Dean’s hand slowly began to stroke your hair, his touch gentle and calming. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to fill the silence with words that might break the spell of the moment. Instead, he just held you, grounding you in the warmth of his embrace, letting you both come down from the intensity of what had just happened.

As you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, you felt your own breathing begin to slow, the adrenaline of the moment finally starting to ebb away. The heat between you was still there, still palpable, but it was tempered now by a deeper sense of connection, of understanding.

When you woke up the next morning, the first thing you noticed was the cool emptiness of the bed beside you. The warmth and comfort of the night before had evaporated, leaving behind the stark reality of the morning. The memories of what had happened flooded back to you—every touch, every kiss, the way Dean had held you so tightly, as if he didn’t want to let go. But now, he was gone.

You reached out instinctively to the space where he had been, your hand brushing against the cold sheets. The room was quiet, almost eerily so, and you felt a pang of loneliness settle in your chest. The absence of Dean beside you was more than just physical; it was an emotional void that made the morning feel colder, emptier.

You sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes as you tried to shake off the remnants of sleep. The events of the night before felt almost surreal, like a dream you weren’t entirely sure had actually happened. But the lingering warmth on your skin, the faint scent of Dean still clinging to the sheets, told you it had been very real.

As you looked around the room, searching for any sign of him, the reality of the situation began to set in. Dean hadn’t just left the bed—he had left you. The weight of that realization hit you hard, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he had regretted everything, if the moment of connection you had shared had been a mistake in his eyes.

The thought made your stomach churn, and you felt a wave of anxiety rise up inside you. What if this changed everything between you? What if he couldn’t look at you the same way anymore? The vulnerability of last night, the raw emotions that had surfaced, now seemed like a double-edged sword.

You slipped out of bed, the cool air of the morning making you shiver as your bare feet touched the floor. The house was quiet, everyone else still asleep or just starting to stir. You made your way to the bathroom, splashing water on your face in an attempt to clear your head. But no matter what you did, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had settled over you.

After a few minutes, you decided to go downstairs, hoping to find Dean, to talk to him, to figure out where things stood. But as you descended the stairs, the house remained silent, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken words.

When you finally reached the kitchen, you found Dean standing by the window, a cup of coffee in his hand. He didn’t turn when you entered, his posture tense, his gaze fixed on something outside that you couldn’t see.

“Dean?”, you called out softly, your voice hesitant.

He didn’t respond immediately, and for a moment, you feared he might ignore you altogether. But then he sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of his thoughts, and finally turned to face you. His eyes were shadowed with guilt, and you could see the turmoil swirling just beneath the surface.

“Morning”, he muttered, his voice rough, as if he hadn’t slept at all.

You took a tentative step closer, trying to read his expression, to understand what he was feeling. “Dean… about last night…”.

He cut you off, shaking his head as if trying to ward off the conversation.

Dean cut you off, shaking his head with a frustration that was almost palpable. His jaw was tight, and you could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he seemed to be wrestling with something deep inside. The guilt and anger in his expression were unmistakable, and it was clear that whatever he was feeling wasn’t just about last night—it went much deeper than that.

“I don’t want to talk about it”, he said sharply, his voice harsher than you’d ever heard it. It caught you off guard, making you flinch slightly. You could see that he wasn’t just upset—he was angry, but it wasn’t directed at you, at least not entirely. There was a self-loathing there, a frustration that seemed to be eating away at him.

You took a step back, unsure of how to navigate this sudden shift in his demeanor. “Dean, I’m sorry if—”.

He slammed the coffee cup down on the counter, the sound reverberating through the quiet kitchen. “Don’t”, he snapped, his voice rough with emotion. “Don’t apologize. This… this isn’t your damn fault. It’s mine”.

You could feel the tension radiating off him in waves, the way his anger seemed to blur the lines between who he was really upset with. You wanted to reach out, to reassure him, but you weren’t sure how to bridge the gap that had suddenly appeared between you.

“Dean, please, just talk to me”, you urged, your voice trembling slightly. “We can figure this out together”.

He looked at you then, his eyes full of a pain that made your chest tighten. “What’s there to talk about?”, he asked bitterly. “I shouldn’t have let things go that far. I should’ve known better. Hell, I do know better, but I still let it happen”.

You could feel the hurt welling up inside you, a deep ache that threatened to overwhelm you, but you swallowed it down, trying to focus on what he was saying, trying to understand the depth of his anger and guilt.

“You’re fucking 18, (Y/N)!”, he hissed, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’m like your damn brother! I watched you grow up! This wasn’t supposed to happen!”.

The rawness in his voice cut through you, making you flinch. You could see the torment in his eyes, the way he was grappling with everything that had happened, and the self-loathing that seemed to be eating him alive. He wasn’t just angry—he was devastated by the situation, by the thought that he had crossed a line he could never uncross.

“Dean…”, you began, your voice barely above a whisper, but he cut you off again, shaking his head as if trying to shake off the thoughts that were tormenting him.

“No”, he said, his tone harsh and filled with regret. “This isn’t right. You’re too young. I’m supposed to protect you, not… not do this”. He gestured vaguely, his frustration evident as he struggled to find the right words. “I’m supposed to be better than this”.

You could see the guilt tearing him apart, the way he was punishing himself for what had happened, and it hurt to see him like this, to see him so lost and conflicted. But at the same time, his words stung. They made you feel like a mistake, like what you had shared last night was something to be ashamed of, and that hurt more than anything.

“Dean, please”, you tried again, your voice trembling. “It wasn’t you. I wanted it. I’m not a kid anymore”.

He let out a bitter laugh, the sound devoid of any real humor. “You say that, but you don’t get it. I’m not just some guy, (Y/N). I’m your family, or at least I’m supposed to be. I shouldn’t have let this happen, no matter how much I wanted it”.

The admission that he had wanted it too made your heart skip a beat, but it was quickly overshadowed by the despair in his voice, the way he seemed to be drowning in his own guilt. You could see that he was struggling, that he was trying to push you away to protect you, but all it was doing was tearing both of you apart.

His gaze flickered with a mix of anger, guilt, and something deeper, something that hurt you even more because it was so tightly intertwined with his love for you. You watched as his fists clenched at his sides, the tension in his body nearly vibrating with the conflict inside him.

He shook his head again, more forcefully this time, as if trying to shake loose the thoughts that were tormenting him. His face twisted with disgust— at himself. “This is so damn wrong”, he muttered, more to himself than to you. “It’s disgusting”.

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. Disgusting. The word echoed in your mind, making you feel small and ashamed. You could see that he wasn’t directing the disgust at you, but it was hard not to internalize it, to not feel like everything that had happened was a mistake, something dirty and wrong.

“Dean, please don’t say that…”, you whispered, your voice trembling. “It wasn’t disgusting. It meant something. It—”.

But before you could finish, Dean turned away, his jaw tight, his expression twisted in a grimace of self-loathing. “I need to get out of here”, he said abruptly, cutting you off once more. The tone of his voice left no room for argument. He was shutting down, pulling away from you, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

He didn’t give you a chance to respond, didn’t wait to hear what you had to say. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving you standing there. The sound of the door closing behind him echoed through the empty house, a final punctuation to the words he had left unsaid.

As the silence settled in, you were left alone with your thoughts, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. The night before had felt like something special, something profound, but now it was tainted by the guilt and disgust Dean had thrown over it like a shadow. You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you fought them back, refusing to let yourself break down.

But as much as you tried to hold it together, the pain in your chest was overwhelming.

The realization of what you'd done, of how you'd pushed him, hit you with full force. You hated yourself for it—for crossing that line, for thinking that what happened between you could be anything more than a mistake. The tears started to flow, hot and unchecked, trailing down your cheeks as you fought to hold in the sobs that threatened to escape.

What had you been thinking? How could you have been so foolish? Dean had always seen you as his little sister, someone to protect, someone he loved but not in the way you had hoped. The weight of that realization crushed you, making it hard to breathe. You had ruined everything, tainted the relationship you cherished more than anything else.

Your lip quivered as more tears fell, and you could no longer stand to be out in the open, exposed and vulnerable. You quickly, but quietly, made your way back to your room, desperate for the sanctuary of your bed. Once inside, you locked the door behind you, needing to put a barrier between yourself and the rest of the world. You didn’t want to face anyone—not Dean, not Sam, not Jody or Claire or Alex. You couldn’t bear the thought of them seeing you like this, of knowing what you had done.

You crawled into bed, pulling the blanket over your head as if that could somehow shield you from the pain, from the guilt and the shame that was eating away at you. The tears kept coming, soaking the pillow beneath your head as you curled into a ball, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

You replayed the night in your mind over and over again, the moments that had felt so right now twisted and distorted by the harsh light of morning. You thought of Dean's words, of the look in his eyes when he called it disgusting, and the ache in your chest deepened. You felt like you had lost something precious, something irreplaceable, and you didn't know how to get it back.

The sobs finally broke free, muffled by the blanket as you cried into your pillow.

Eventually, the exhaustion from crying so hard began to take its toll, and your sobs quieted, replaced by a hollow emptiness. You stared at the wall, your eyes red and puffy, your heart feeling like it had been shattered into a million pieces. The self-loathing gnawed at you, making you feel like you didn’t deserve any comfort, any solace.

You lay there for what felt like hours, too drained to move, too defeated to care about anything else. All you wanted was to disappear, to escape from the reality of what you had done, and to forget that anything had ever happened.

By the time noon rolled around, the house was starting to come alive with the sounds of breakfast being prepared. The clatter of pots and pans, the sizzle of bacon on the stove, and the smell of pancakes filled the air, a stark contrast to the tension that had lingered the night before. Despite his best efforts to push the memories of the previous night aside, Dean found it hard to forget. The words he had said, the look on your face, the way you had clung to him—all of it haunted him.

He had spent the morning trying to distract himself, throwing himself into mundane tasks to keep his mind occupied, but it was no use. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you—saw the hurt in your eyes when he lashed out, saw the vulnerability that had been so raw and real. It tore at him, gnawed at his insides, but he didn’t know how to fix it. He wasn’t even sure if it could be fixed.

Finally, when the smell of bacon and pancakes became too enticing to ignore, he decided to head downstairs. The hunger gnawing at his stomach was a welcome distraction, something simple and easy to focus on.

As he descended the stairs, Dean was careful to look around, his eyes scanning the living room and kitchen for any sign of you. But you weren’t there. Instead, he found Jody at the stove, flipping pancakes with a practiced ease, while Sam poured coffee into mugs at the counter. Claire and Alex were sitting at the kitchen table, chatting animatedly, their voices carrying an easy, carefree tone that felt jarring compared to the heaviness in Dean’s chest.

“Morning, Dean”, Jody called out with a smile as she glanced over her shoulder at him. “You’re just in time. Pancakes are almost ready”.

Dean forced a smile, trying to match the lightness in her voice. “Morning. Smells great”. His voice sounded more normal than he felt, and he was grateful for the small victory.

Sam looked up from his coffee, giving Dean a curious look. “You sleep okay?”, he asked, his tone casual, but there was an edge of concern there, as if he could sense that something was off.

Dean shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “Yeah, just fine. You?”.

Sam nodded, but his eyes lingered on Dean for a moment longer, as if trying to read something in his expression. “Same here”.

Jody flipped another pancake onto the growing stack on a plate beside her, then turned to Dean with a curious look. "Where’s (Y/N)?", she asked, her voice casual but with a hint of concern beneath it.

Dean’s heart skipped a beat at the question. He knew this moment would come, but he wasn’t prepared for the rush of guilt that hit him when Jody asked about you. He forced himself to stay calm, to not let the turmoil he was feeling show on his face.

"I’m not sure", Dean replied, trying to sound nonchalant as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "She might still be upstairs. Probably just needed some extra sleep after last night".

Jody nodded, accepting his answer, but there was still a flicker of worry in her eyes. "I’ll save her some breakfast", she said, her voice gentle. "Maybe she just needs a little time to herself".

Dean nodded, grateful that Jody wasn’t pressing the issue further. The last thing he needed was for anyone to start asking questions he wasn’t ready to answer. He took a sip of his coffee, the warmth doing little to ease the cold knot of anxiety in his stomach.

As they all settled in to eat, Dean found it hard to concentrate on the conversation around the table. His mind kept drifting back to you—wondering if you were okay. He wanted to go up to your room, to talk to you, but he didn’t know what he would say, didn’t know if he could face the pain in your eyes again.

Jody must have noticed Dean’s distraction because she gave him a soft smile. "Dean, why don’t you take a plate up to (Y/N) when you’re done? She might appreciate the gesture".

Dean hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, I’ll do that", he said, though the thought of facing you after everything that had happened filled him with a sense of dread.

As the meal continued, Dean tried his best to engage in the conversation, but his mind was elsewhere. The thought of losing you, of damaging your relationship beyond repair, was almost too much to bear.

When breakfast was finally over, Dean took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he knew he needed to do. He loaded a plate with pancakes and bacon, then grabbed a fork before heading upstairs.

As he stood outside your door, his hand hovering over the doorknob, he hesitated. The fear of what he might find on the other side, the fear of seeing the hurt in your eyes again, almost made him turn back. But he knew he couldn’t avoid this forever. Taking a deep breath, he gently knocked on your door, hoping that you’d let him in.

Dean stood outside your door, his heart heavy with uncertainty as he waited for a response. When he finally heard your voice, it was soft, almost muffled, as you mumbled that you wanted to be alone and weren’t feeling well. The words stung more than he expected.

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his own emotions in check. “Alright”, he murmured through the door, his voice low and rough. “I’ll just leave your breakfast out here if you want it”. He placed the plate carefully on the floor in front of your door, lingering for a moment longer, hoping you might change your mind and open the door. But when nothing happened, he sighed quietly and turned away.

As he made his way back downstairs, his thoughts were a jumbled mess of guilt, regret, and a deep sadness that he couldn’t shake. He hated knowing that you were hurting, and he hated even more that he was the cause of it. The kitchen was still bustling with activity when he returned, the others chatting and laughing as they cleaned up from breakfast.

Dean forced a smile as he rejoined the group, though it felt hollow. “She’s not feeling well”, he said, his voice steady but lacking its usual warmth. “Just wants to rest for a while”.

Claire smirked and nudged Alex. “Probably has a killer hangover”, she teased, her tone lighthearted.

The others chuckled, and even Jody shook her head with a small smile. “Well, she did have a lot to drink last night”, Jody said, her tone motherly but amused. “I’m sure she’ll feel better after some rest”.

Dean nodded, playing along with the easy explanation, but his thoughts were far from lighthearted. He couldn’t shake the image of you, alone in your room, likely hurting far more than you were letting on. The guilt gnawed at him, a constant reminder of how badly he had messed things up.

As the others continued to clean up and chat, Dean found himself withdrawing, the conversation around him fading into the background.

You stayed in your room for the rest of the day, the walls around you feeling like both a sanctuary and a prison. The heaviness in your chest hadn’t lifted, and the thought of facing anyone, especially Dean, was too overwhelming. You tried to distract yourself, but every time you closed your eyes, you saw Dean’s face, heard his words, and felt the crushing weight of what had happened between you.

As the hours passed, the daylight faded, and the quiet of the evening settled over the house. You hadn’t moved from your bed, hadn’t even touched the breakfast Dean had left outside your door. The idea of eating made your stomach turn, and all you wanted was to be alone with your thoughts, no matter how painful they were.

The knock on your door startled you out of your daze. It was gentle, tentative, and after a moment, you heard Sam’s voice on the other side.

“(Y/N)?”, he called softly, his tone careful, as if he didn’t want to intrude. “It’s Sam. I brought you some dinner. Can you open the door for me?”.

You hesitated, the weight of the day pressing down on you. Part of you wanted to ignore him, to stay hidden away in your room and avoid everyone, but another part of you knew that Sam wouldn’t leave until he was sure you were okay. Sam had always been the more patient of the brothers, the one who could read between the lines, and you knew that if you didn’t answer, he would only worry more.

With a heavy sigh, you slowly got out of bed and made your way to the door. Your movements felt sluggish, your limbs heavy with exhaustion and the emotional toll of the day. When you reached the door, you paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before you finally opened it.

Sam stood there, holding a plate of food in one hand, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. He glanced down at the untouched breakfast plate still sitting on the floor and frowned slightly, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he looked up at you, his eyes soft with sympathy.

“Hey”, he said gently, offering you a small, reassuring smile. “Thought you might be hungry”.

You shook your head slightly, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m not, really. But… thanks”.

Sam hesitated for a moment, clearly torn between respecting your space and wanting to help. The concern in his eyes was palpable, and you could see that he was struggling with whether or not to press the issue. Finally, he let out a soft sigh, stepping a little closer but still keeping a respectful distance.

"(Y/N)", he began, his voice gentle and full of care, "I can tell something’s bothering you. You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready, but… I’m here if you need to. What’s going on?”.

You hesitated, your heart tightening in your chest. The last thing you wanted was to drag Sam into the mess that had unfolded between you and Dean. You knew Sam was just trying to help, but the thought of opening up about what had really happened felt impossible. It was too raw, too confusing, and you didn’t want to burden him with it.

Instead, you let out a heavy sigh and turned away, walking back over to your bed. You didn’t want to lie to Sam, but you couldn’t tell him the whole truth either. So you sat down on the edge of the bed, your shoulders slumping with the weight of everything you were carrying, and settled on telling him about something else that had been on your mind—Jake.

“It’s… it’s about Jake”, you finally said, your voice subdued. It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. "I thought… I thought maybe it was going somewhere, you know? But he sent me a message last night, saying he got back together with his ex. I guess it just… it hit me harder than I expected”.

Sam listened carefully, his brow furrowing in sympathy as he took in your words. He knew that this wasn’t the whole story, that there was more to your sadness than just Jake, but he also knew better than to push you when you weren’t ready to open up.

“I’m really sorry, (Y/N)”, he said softly, his tone filled with understanding. “I know that kind of thing can hurt, especially when you’re hoping for something more. But it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. Sometimes things just don’t work out the way we want them to”.

You nodded, appreciating his attempt to comfort you, even though your heart wasn’t entirely in it. Jake’s message had hurt, yes, but it wasn’t the real reason you were feeling so lost and broken.

Sam seemed to sense that you weren’t ready to dive deeper, and so he didn’t push further. Instead, he offered you a small, reassuring smile. “If you need anything, or if you want to talk more later, I’m here. We all are”.

You managed a weak smile in return, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks, Sam. I appreciate it”.

With that, Sam gave you one last concerned look before quietly leaving the room, closing the door softly behind him. As soon as he was gone, you felt the weight of everything settle over you once more. The loneliness, the confusion, the pain of what had happened with Dean—it all came crashing back, leaving you feeling hollow and lost.

You curled up on the bed once more, pulling the blanket around you like a cocoon, trying to shut out the world and the emotions swirling inside you.

Down in the living room, the atmosphere was quieter than usual. The group had gathered to watch a movie, but the usual lighthearted banter and jokes were noticeably absent. The tension from earlier still hung in the air, and despite their best efforts, everyone could feel the underlying unease that hadn’t yet been resolved.

Dean sat a bit apart from the others, nursing a glass of whiskey. He was trying to focus on the movie, but his thoughts kept drifting back to you—upstairs, alone, hurting. He hated how things had gone, hated that he’d been the one to push you away when you needed him the most. The whiskey burned as it went down, but it did little to numb the guilt that gnawed at him.

When Sam finally returned from upstairs, the look on his face said everything. He sighed heavily as he approached the group, clearly concerned but trying to respect your need for space.

“She said she wants to be alone for a bit”, Sam informed the others, his voice low. “She’s upset about Jake. Apparently, he got back with his ex. She’s taking it pretty hard”.

The others exchanged sympathetic looks, their concern for you evident. Claire and Alex were particularly quiet, their usual energy subdued as they processed what Sam had said. Jody frowned, her motherly instincts kicking in as she glanced toward the stairs, clearly wanting to go check on you herself but respecting your need for privacy.

Dean felt a sinking sensation in his gut as Sam’s words sank in. The realization hit him hard—this was why you had wanted to go home last night. You were hurting over Jake, and in your vulnerable state, he had… Dean couldn’t even finish the thought. The guilt that had been simmering all day boiled over, and he felt like he had taken advantage of you, even if that hadn’t been his intention. He should have known better. He should have been there for you as a friend, as the person who was supposed to protect you—not complicate things further.

He hesitated, his mind racing with what he should do next. Sitting there, wallowing in guilt, wasn’t going to help anyone—especially not you. You were upstairs, hurting, and he knew he needed to make this right. But how? The mess he’d made wasn’t something that could be easily fixed with a few words or a simple apology. It was deeper than that.

Finally, he made up his mind. He couldn’t leave things the way they were. You deserved better than that. He stood up, setting his whiskey glass down with a bit more force than necessary, causing the others to look up at him in surprise.

“I’ll go talk to her”, Dean mumbled, his voice rough with determination. He needed to do this, to at least try and make amends. “Don’t wait up for me”.

No one argued with him, though the concern in their eyes was clear. Jody gave him a small, encouraging nod, while Sam watched him with that careful, knowing look that only a brother could give. Dean didn’t wait for any further response. He turned and headed for the stairs, his heart pounding as he made his way to your room.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked softly. “It’s me”, he said quietly, not sure if you’d even want to see him. “Can I come in?”.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he heard the faint sound of movement from the other side of the door. The lock clicked, and the door opened just a crack. Dean’s heart twisted at the sight of your face peeking out at him, your eyes red and swollen from crying.

You didn’t say anything, just looked at him with a mixture of emotions that made his chest tighten. He didn’t wait for an invitation; he stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him.

Dean hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest as he took in the sight of you standing there, looking so lost and small. The room was heavy with the weight of unspoken words and emotions, and he wasn’t sure how to begin, how to navigate the tangled mess that lay between you now.

You kept your gaze fixed on the floor, your arms wrapped around yourself as if trying to hold yourself together. The sight of you like this—so vulnerable, so clearly hurting—made Dean’s chest tighten with guilt and regret.

He stumbled over his words, the usual confidence in his voice faltering as he finally spoke. “Is..Is it really about Jake?”, he asked, his voice rough and uncertain. “Or… is it… about me?”.

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded with meaning. He wasn’t sure what he expected you to say, wasn’t even sure if he wanted to hear the answer. But he knew he needed to ask it, needed to understand what was really going on between you.

You didn’t respond right away, your silence only adding to the tension in the room. Dean took a tentative step closer, his heart aching as he watched you. He wanted to reach out, to pull you into his arms and make everything better, but he knew it wasn’t that simple. Nothing about this was simple.

Finally, you lifted your head, meeting his gaze with tear-filled eyes. The raw emotion in your expression made his heart clench, and he knew, in that moment, that this wasn’t about Jake.

You bit your lip, trying to keep it from trembling, but it was no use. Fresh tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as the weight of everything came crashing down on you. The memory of Dean’s words from earlier—the way he had called what happened between you “disgusting”—echoed in your mind, making the ache in your chest even worse.

Unable to stand any longer, you let yourself sink down onto the edge of your bed, your legs feeling too weak to support you. The shame, the confusion, and the overwhelming sadness you felt were almost too much to bear. You wanted to say something, to explain, but the words caught in your throat, choked by the emotions that were threatening to spill over.

Dean watched you, his heart breaking as he saw the tears streaming down your face. The sight of you like this—so lost, so hurt—made him feel like the worst person in the world. He had never meant to make you feel this way, never meant to cause you this kind of pain. But he had, and now he didn’t know how to fix it.

He took another step closer, hesitating for a moment before kneeling down in front of you. He wanted to be on your level, to show you that he wasn’t above you, wasn’t trying to distance himself from you.

Dean hesitated for a moment, his hands hovering uncertainly before he finally reached out and gently took your hands in his. The contact was warm, comforting in a way, but it also carried the weight of everything that had passed between you. He swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion, as he tried to find the right words to explain the turmoil inside him.

"This… this can never lead anywhere", he started, his voice low and strained. The words seemed to hurt him as much as they hurt you, but he forced them out, knowing he had to say them. "I'm twenty years older than you, (Y/N). I’m supposed to be protecting you, looking out for you… like a brother. That’s what I’m supposed to be. Not this”.

His grip on your hands tightened slightly, as if he was trying to anchor himself, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions that were tearing him apart. "You're just confused right now", he continued, his voice trembling. "With everything that's happened—with Jake and all that… You're hurting, and I get that. But this isn’t the answer. I can’t… we can’t let this go any further".

You could feel his hands shaking slightly as he spoke, and the tears that had been welling up in your eyes finally spilled over, running down your cheeks. You had known, deep down, that this was what he was going to say, but hearing the words still cut through you like a knife.

"It's not about Jake. It’s… it’s about you. How I feel about you", you whispered, your voice breaking.

Dean closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face as he struggled with your words. "You think that now", he said, his voice rough. "But you’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you. You don’t want to be tied down to someone like me. You deserve better. You deserve someone who can give you a future, someone who isn’t…".

He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, his eyes opening to meet yours, filled with a sadness that made your heart ache even more. "I can’t be that person for you", he finished quietly. "As much as I might… I.. I can’t".

The pain in his voice was almost unbearable, and you could see how much he was struggling to keep his emotions in check. But despite everything he was saying, despite the barriers he was trying to put up between you, there was a part of you that couldn’t let go, couldn’t accept that this was how things had to be.

You shook your head, fresh tears spilling over as you tried to make him understand. "Dean, it’s not about age, or what’s supposed to happen. I know what I want, and I’m not just confused. I’m not a kid anymore".

Dean’s grip on your hands tightened, his expression torn. "But I’m supposed to protect you from things like this", he whispered, his voice hoarse. "From me. I can’t… I can’t do this to you, (Y/N). It’s not right".

The room was thick with the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled desires. You could see the conflict in Dean’s eyes, the way he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince you. And yet, despite everything, the connection between you— the emotions that had been building for so long—remained, a stubborn flame that refused to be extinguished.

In that moment, you realized that no matter what he said, no matter how hard he tried to push you away, the feelings you had for each other weren’t going to disappear. They were too deep, too real. But whether or not you could ever act on them was a question neither of you had an answer to.

"Please", Dean said, his voice barely more than a whisper, filled with anguish. "Please don’t make this harder than it already is".

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you both sat there in silence, holding onto each other as if you were afraid to let go.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, and your breath hitched as you gathered the courage to ask the question that had been burning in the back of your mind. It was a question you were terrified to know the answer to, but you knew you couldn’t move forward without asking it. Your voice broke as you whispered, the words trembling on your lips, “Dean..do you… do you like me?”.

You looked up at Dean through tear-filled lashes, your gaze searching his face for any sign of what he might be feeling. The vulnerability in your eyes was mirrored in his own, but there was also a deep sadness that made your chest tighten.

———————————

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

-

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[zhivaoverdrive]

Filling the Void Breast Expansion and Butt Expansion via Saline Expander Implants.

But you've seen the image, too late.

Each image from the poster wall is available in full on the extras gallery, some with their own small stories.

Have fun.

----- As I pushed open the door, my eyes widened in horror. Lani lay sprawled across her bed, her body resembling a collection of medicine balls that had been inflated one too many times. Her breasts hung from her chest like overfilled water balloons, threatening to burst at any moment. 

The soft light cast by the lamp on her nightstand danced across her skin, highlighting every vein and crease as if trying to accentuate the sheer magnitude of her transformation. The implants themselves seemed to be straining against Lani's skin, like four enormous balloons about to burst at any moment.

Lani's eyes snapped towards mine, wide with surprise and shame. She looked guilty, her face flushed like a person who'd just been caught cheating. Her gaze darted around the room as if searching for a way to make this situation disappear, but the evidence was undeniable. It was like trying to hide a skyscraper behind a curtain – impossible.

I took in the scene: her already-enormous frame now straining against the seams of reality; empty saline solution bottles littering the room like discarded confetti; and Lani's body... altered, distended by the relentless stream of liquid she'd forced into it. The four orbs of saline inside her seemed to be straining against their containment, as if desperate to escape were it not for Lani's stretched skin holding on with all its might.

"It's not that big of a deal," she said, her voice laced with justification. "I'm fine. Just... just this little bit more..."

I took a deep breath before speaking. "Lani, I know we agreed monthly would be the limit," I reminded her gently.  "But you know how close you came to... complications. And yet here you are again, doing it without supervision."

Lani looked at me pleadingly, her eyes welling up with tears. "Please," she whispered, the air thickening with shame and desperation.

The shame and desperation, struggled to come to terms with being caught. AGAIN.

On one hand, I was impressed by her willingness to take control of her body and push the boundaries of what society considers "OK".

But I was also worried about how far she was taking things. Like, expanders... that's some next-level stuff.

And not just that - Lani had taken her body modification game to a whole new level by having expanders in her butt as well.

I couldn't help but wonder what kind of discomfort she must be going through with those things implanted in her backside. And yet...part of me couldn't help but admire her spirit.

I get that Lani wanted to change herself, but this was just crazy. "You're not even trying to hide what you're doing," I said, shaking my head in amazement. "You're trying to turn yourself into a human balloon or something!"

But as soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I had spoken too bluntly.

"You're using expanders like they're some kind of...I don't know, saline-filled superpower or something!" I said, trying to lighten my tone.

"I just need this one more time," she said quietly, her voice filled with reverence.  "I promise I'll slow down after this. It's not like..."

She trailed off, looking down at the floor as if embarrassed by her own words. But that did not last long.

Lani gazed up at the posters on her wall. Her gaze lingered on the statuesque figures, their bodies seemingly defying gravity itself - their breasts rose up from their chests like mountains, butts jutted out far behind them.

"Look at them," Lani said quietly, her voice filled with awe and longing. "They're doing it... Just look at them - so many people adore them, that one's been on TV!"

As Lani admired these perfect forms of femininity, the competing idea inside of her believed she was still the waifish girl she'd been years ago stewed. Trapped between two conflicting realities unable to be reconciled.

"And honestly, what's another litre of saline when you're already..."

I didn't push her for more. Another unnecessary question. A different tack was in order.

"Lani, baby," I said carefully,

"You've never removed ANY saline before. I'm not even exactly sure if we can. What if this is a one-way process without going back to the doctor..."

Her eyes dropped, and she nodded slowly. "I know, but what's the worst that could happen? You'll still l-" "Ah," I interrupted her, trying to sound more reassuring than concerned. "The weight of... well, let me ask you this: how much saline are we talking about here?"

Lani looked down at her chest, a sheepish expression spreading across her face. "I've got 10 litres in each boob.."

My eyes widened in shock. Ten litres per implant? That was... that was a lot of saline. A lot more than last time.

"And?" I prompted, trying to keep my tone light despite the gravity of the situation.

Lani faltered for a moment before she spoke up again. "And... um... well, I might have also exceeded 10 litres in each butt cheek."

My jaw dropped. She couldn't be serious. Could she?

"Lani," I said softly, trying to keep my tone gentle despite the shock and concern I was feeling. "You're telling me that you've got a total of 40,000cc saline forced in your body?"

Lani nodded sheepishly, her face flushing with embarrassment.

I glanced at Lani's ass and saw the telltale signs of strain: deep creases in her skin, fine lines tracing the contours of each implant, and an eerie sheen that hinted at stretchmarks. Her veins stood out like blue highways, pulsing with effort as they struggled to deliver oxygen to her skin.

"The weight of this much saline is crushing you," I said firmly. "You've already been struggling with everyday tasks for months now. You're going to continue to struggle even more as time goes on. Your body simply can't keep up."

Lani's gaze faltered as she tried to consider the consequences of her actions.

"What does the future hold?" I continued. "Don't even get me started on trying to cook dinner or do laundry. You're being short-sighted! What happens when you can't even get out of bed in the morning?"

The silence between us grew thick with unspoken understanding – a tacit agreement that more caution was needed, but also a recognition that we were both too afraid to seek help.

She nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving mine.

"You're right," she said quietly. "I'll need you".

[pareidoliaonthemove]

What Are Little Girls Made Of

“How far to the lifesigns, Thunderbird Five?”

Virgil stopped the rest behind the ‘mini-Mole’, as he waited for his older brother to respond.

“About twenty meters, Two. You need to veer five degrees right, and one degree down. That will have you breaking through their air pocket at the corner diagonally opposite from their position.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five. Five degrees right one, one degree down. Moving out.”

Virgil keyed in the course change on his wrist controller, and activated the mini-Mole. With a high pitched squeal, the small ROV again started drilling into the concrete and rebar of the collapsed building. It captured all the detritus, mixed it with a quick setting binding agent, and extruded it against the ‘walls’ of its tunnel, ensuring that the resulting space wasn’t going to collapse immediately behind it.

Virgil eyed his wrist controller as he crawled after the machine. Time was still of the essence in this type of rescue. They hadn’t been able to ascertain exactly why the commercial complex had collapsed, and that made Virgil very unhappy.

In front of him, the mini-Mole chirruped, slowed its pace and drill, and pulled forward to show a hole in the ‘wall’ facing a void. Virgil activated his passive line to John, then crawled up to the entryway and cautiously poked his head through. “International Rescue. Is anybody here?”

Stupid question, he knew there were two human life-signs in this space, but the enquiry served multiple purposes. Firstly, it identified him, and stopped anyone from trying to brain him with a rock – it had happened. Trapped people panicked, and if they had fears about running out of oxygen, another person in ‘their’ space, breathing ‘their’ air was a threat that had to be ‘dealt’ with.

Secondly, it told him if the lifesigns were conscious. No conscious victim could resist responding to the magic words...

“International Rescue!”

And there it was. One of the two lifesigns was currently bouncing towards him, a little girl about seven years of age, rushing across the space, her pigtails streaming behind her, pink ribbons fluttering. Virgil watched carefully as he crawled into the space. She was moving freely, despite concrete dust liberally coating her body, and bloody red grazes on the sides of legs and palms of her hand. Her dress, once a pink frilly layered affair was now torn and lank.

She must have felt like a princess when she left her home this morning.

The little girl grabbed his hand and started trying to drag him back with her to the far corner. “You have to come, Mummy’s stuck! She can’t get out!”

“Judy! Calm.” The voice was laced with pain but firm and calming. Two conscious resucees. That was good.

Judy stopped her insistent dragging, but didn’t let go of Virgil’s hand. “Please, Mister International Rescue. My Mummy is stuck. Can you help her get out?”

Virgil smiled, it was a practised smile, confident and calm. “That’s why I’m here. Now, where is your mummy, and what is her name?”

A deep breath. “My Mummy’s name is Jennifer Robson. My name is Judy Robson. Mummy is over in that corner,” she pointed. “And her legs are caught under the roof. Mine were, too,” she added, “but I’m little so I managed to wiggle my way out. Mummy can’t.”

“Thank you, Judy. You’ve been very brave, and very helpful. Can you keep helping me by staying here, while I go and see what’s got your mummy stuck?”

A determined nod, but her fear was betrayed by small teeth gnawing at her lower lip and bright water gathering in her eyes.

Virgil smiled again, and lowered himself down beside her mother. “Mrs Robson?” he asked, it never hurt to check names with parents. Judy had spoken clearly, but a misunderstood name at a rescue site could have consequences later.

The woman smiled up at him from where she lay on her left side. “That’s right, please call me Jenny. It’ll save time.” A glance at her daughter. “It’s a bit more complicated than just being stuck. I think something’s gone through my left leg.” A frown. “My right leg is lying in front of the left, and I can move it freely, but…”

Virgil nodded. “Okay. I understand.” He pulled a device from the satchel he had been dragging under his chest, clipped to his harness. “This is a snake,” he showed Mrs Robson. “I’m going to slide it behind you, and it’ll let me see what’s holding you in place. Then I can come up with a plan to get you out.”

“That would be appreciated,” Jenny smiled.

Virgil eased his way behind her, and activated the snake, sending it slipping down next to her back, and relaying what it ‘saw’ to a little 2D screen on the control box.

He frowned at what he saw. A piece of rebar – entirely too thin for what it was presumably doing, he noted absently – had been freed from it encasing concrete, and had stabbed through Jenny’s left calf. He sent the snake bobbing down, to examine beneath.

They were in luck, the rebar had only just broken the skin, and hadn’t pinned her to the slab below. One cut, a slight jacking of the slab above her, and Jenny could be pulled out.

He informed Jenny as much, and then paused. Judy was sitting cross legged where he had left her, her apparent calm betrayed by the clean furrows tear tracks had carved down the concrete dust coating her face. He couldn’t send the little girl up the tunnel on her own, there were too many side branches that had been carved to reach other victims of the collapse. He couldn’t take her himself, and leave Jenny alone. And they really couldn’t afford the time to have one of his brothers come down and collect Judy, but she was still only young, and he didn’t really want her to see the state her mother was in.

Jenny saw where he was looking, and smiled. “If you’re worried about upsetting her with blood, you shouldn’t. Your biggest problem will be keeping her out of the way to wrap up a wound. Little girls come in two flavours, precious princesses who kick up and fuss at the mere mention of the word ‘blood’, or perfect little ghouls, who delight in it, and must be shown any wound the instant they learn of it.” She raised her voice so her daughter could hear. “Judy wants to be a doctor when she grows up, she is very interested in first aid and how to treat injuries. Judy the Ghoul, we call her.”

Judy perked up. “Oh, does Mummy need first aid? Can I help? I know how to apply bandages! Please, can I help? I’ll be super helpful!”

Virgil glanced at her mother, who was all but laughing at his confusion. “Judy, tell Mister International Rescue how you treat someone with a stab wound.”

“First, never ever ever take the object out of the wound. Take a bandage, and make doughnut, like this,” she held up both hands to make an ‘O’ shape, “slide it over the foreign object, and then wrap other bandages around it to keep in place.”

Virgil nodded approvingly. “Very good. That’s absolutely correct. First I’m going to have to get your mom out, and then we can do the first aid together, okay?”

A determined nod. “Yes, sir.”

“Okay, then, let’s get cracking.” He turned to his satchel, and pulled out a jack, setting it up, again behind Jenny, and then pulling out a version of Mini-MAX. This one programmed for exactly this kind of scenario, and kitted out with a miniature version of his shoulder mounted laser.

Virgil always had trepidations about ‘his’ Mini-MAX. It had taken Brains a lot of trial and error to tone down MAX’s natural enthusiasm. That coupled with a high powered laser had had … interesting results. International Rescue’s high energy equipment testing protocols and test chamber had both needed serious overhauling.

As was his habit, Virgil held his breath as Mini-MAX attached the heat absorbing shield, and activated his laser. But the little robot did his job perfectly, flying back out to his ‘travel’ case, leaving Jenny with a half-inch of rebar sticking out of her leg.

Virgil again held his breath as the jack slowly, so slowly, eased upwards just enough for him to slide Jenny out without jostling the rebar, and, once she was clear, slowly easing the slab back down to its original position.

As Virgil turned his attention to his charge’s injury, he found the little girl, kneeling beside her mother, her face mere inches from the ground, as she examined the injury with a bright-eyed intensity that made him just a little bit uneasy.

Gently pulling the girl, back he helped her sterilise her hands, and they both made a ‘doughnut’ out of bandages, and while Judy held them in place, Virgil started the binding bandage. He then turned to give Jenny painkillers, while keeping an eye on Judy as she completed the binding.

Quickly assembling the hover stretcher from its folded up state in his satchel, Virgil explained his evacuation plan to his patient and ‘assistant’. Jenny was soon installed on the stretcher, and strapped firmly in place, while Judy was more loosely strapped to her right side, so she could ‘monitor’ her mother on their trip to the surface.

Bringing the mini-Mole around to face back up its tunnel, Virgil tethered the hover stretcher to its back, and sent the Mole, the stretcher and its occupants trundling back towards freedom. Quickly packing up his remaining equipment, Virgil started crawling after the Mole, quietly confirming with John the condition of his rescuees and confirming that there was appropriate resources waiting for them top side, and that there was no-one else to pull from the wreckage of the building.

The trip back up passed quicker than had the one down, with Judy chatting happily to her mother, and then relaying regular ‘updates’ back to Virgil. The dying rays of sunlight bathing the scenery in reds and golds seemed unnaturally bright to Virgil as he crawled out of the hole, accepting Gordon and Scott’s help to stand upright again, and pull off his helmet. His back cracking as he straightened, but he bit back the groan as he twisted. That was just a bit too ‘old man’.

Ambulance crews, already briefed by John as to Jenny’s condition, and treatment already provided, had shifted her from the IR stretcher to their own gurney, and Judy was standing, watching intently as they took her vital signs, and unworriedly alternating between talking over, and talking to the little girl.

A woman, dressed in the ambulance’s uniform, drew Jenny away, and briefly examined the grazes on her legs and hands, and Virgil was briefly concerned that he had missed something in his haste to free the mother. But as the woman realised Virgil was watching, she offered a smile, and a thumbs up; and Virgil relaxed.

Beside him, Gordon nudged his arm, pressed an object into Virgil’s hand. It was one of the buttons Virgil had had made up, a test run of item he wanted to propose to Scott for distribution to kids at Danger Zone. A small button with a pin back. In the centre was the IR logo, an around it, in – naturally – Thunderbird Two Green was the words “I Was Brave For International Rescue”.

Virgil frowned at Gordon. These weren’t supposed to be here, but Gordon just nodded to Judy. “She’s earned it. Scott’s busy, go on, Virg.”

Virgil walked over, and knelt down beside Judy. “I wanted to thank you, Judy. You were very brave and very helpful back there.” He held up the button to her. “You’ve earned this. Can I pin it to your dress?”

Judy’s eyes went wide as she saw the button, and she nodded. Virgil reached forward, and very carefully pinned it to the dress, probably a bit high, it was near her collarbone. But Judy stared down at it a moment, before launching herself at Virgil and nearly strangling him with a hug. “Thank you, Mister International Rescue. Thank you for helping me and my Mummy.”

Virgil cautiously returned the hug, “Thank you, Judy.” A shout from the nearby ambulance had Judy’s caretaker gently pulling her away from Virgil and leading her away. Judy bounded as she went, pigtails streaming behind her. Back to her mother.

Twenty Years Later

Virgil lay back, watching the flickering pattern of light tiles rush past over his head. Whatever drugs they had given him on the way to the hospital were working a treat, what had been a fiery burning pain was now a dull throb, annoying but he could live with it.

A new body joined the lineup alongside his gurney, and Virgil turned his attention to the newcomer. A woman, about thirty, her long dark hair was caught in a plait, a pink ribbon incongruously woven into the braid, and formed the tie, candy pink scrubs that stuck out like a beacon amid the soft blues and teals.

A photo ID card at the end of the lanyard bounced about as she ran, and Virgil couldn’t make out then name, but recognised from the colour stripe along the right edge that the woman was an Emergency Department Trauma Surgeon. Attached to the lanyard, near her collarbone, was a pin, and Virgil strained to see it. He frowned, and reached up a hand to tug on the lanyard so he could get a closer look at the pin.

A IR blue clad arm reached about and caught his hand. “Hey, Virg, no grabbing. Hands to yourself, even when drugged, bro.”

There was a laugh, and the woman pulled off the lanyard one handed, and held the pin for his inspection. It was an old button, faded from exposure to light, but Virgil instantly recognised it. Scott had quickly forbidden them when he had found out, but the IR logo in the centre, and the words, “I Was Brave For International Rescue” ran around the edge in Thunderbird Two Green was unmistakable.

A name came to him, an image of a cement dust covered little girl in torn pink dress and pigtails, peering in fascination at the rebar piercing her mother’s leg. “Judy the Ghoul,” he said, voice slurring.

Above him, Judy – Doctor Judy – laughed. “That’s me. I’m honoured you remembered me.”

Virgil lay back and closed his eyes. “Never forgot. Little girls are ghouls. Important lesson t’ learn.” He opened his eyes. “My little girls are even worse. Had’ta keep infirmary locked. Was tryin’ to play ‘doctor’.”

She laughed again, turning her attention to his lower body. Virgil really didn’t want to know what she was seeing. Feeling what had happened was bad enough. A thought. “Did y’ Mum keep th’ leg?”

“No,” was the absent reply. “Sepsis infection at the hospital meant she lost her leg, at the knee. She has a prosthesis; reckons it’s the best thing that ever happened to her. Says it reduced her footache by fifty percent.”

She turned back to Virgil. “But I’m afraid we’ll not be reducing your footache, Mr Tracy. But if you can be very brave and helpful, we’ll have you back rescuing little girls from collapsed buildings in no time.”

Virgil smiled, as half of the people surrounding him, including his brother, fell away, and he was propelled through double doors into the gleaming sterility of a surgical theater. “I look forward to it.”

Notes:

I have five nieces, aged between ten and two. Any bandages or bandaids must be immediately removed for them to inspect the damage. Ghouls. The lot of them. Unless it’s their blood!

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the TOS or CGI Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

[peppymintdreams]

pickle gets hit on by a client and isaac gets jealous..

Hmm this was something interesting

Lines Crossed

Isaac Rhoades x Pickle

A client who crosses personal boundaries with Isaac’s assistant and partner test the limits and finds out

The mid-morning light filtered into Isaac's home office, casting a pale glow over the stacks of documents scattered across his desk. Isaac sat rigid in his chair, face impassive, as Mr. Devereux, a slick businessman rattled on about his case. Isaac’s eyes flicked over the details, his focus sharp, betraying no hint of the inner calculations he made as Devereux spoke.

Pickle stood quietly by Isaac’s side, a constant, grounding presence, though they could feel the tension subtly rising. Isaac’s hand occasionally brushed theirs, a rare, almost imperceptible gesture of acknowledgment. His seriousness never wavered, however; his stoic nature often made moments like this feel like they were witnessing a storm brewing beneath calm waters.

“I’m telling you, Rhoades, I’ve been framed. The evidence is circumstantial,” Devereux insisted, leaning forward with too much confidence for someone in his position.

Isaac gave a slow, measured nod. “That’s what I’m here to determine, Mr. Devereux. But I need full transparency from you. No omissions. Every detail counts.”

Devereux smiled, his gaze sliding toward Pickle, lingering a little too long. “Of course. Full cooperation.” His eyes traced over Pickle with something far from professional, but Isaac said nothing, though his fingers tapped once against the desk, a tiny, controlled gesture only Pickle would catch.

Standing from his chair, Isaac grabbed a folder from his desk. “I need to retrieve additional files from the lobby. It will only take a moment.” His voice remained calm, but his gaze, as he looked at Pickle, softened slightly a fleeting moment of quiet reassurance only they would recognize.

Pickle gave him a small nod, their own silent way of saying they were fine. Isaac's hand squeezed their shoulder before he turned, stepping from the office with that same collected air that made him both intimidating and compelling.

Once the door closed, the air seemed to change. Devereux’s relaxed posture shifted into something more predatory. He leaned back in his chair, a smirk pulling at his lips as he turned his attention fully on Pickle.

“You’ve got a good thing going here,” he said, his tone casual, but there was an undertone that made Pickle stiffen. “I imagine it’s not just work that keeps you close to Isaac.”

Pickle raised their eyebrows but kept their expression professional. “We work well together,” they replied simply, turning their focus back to the tablet. They wanted to avoid where this conversation was heading.

Devereux, though, wasn’t finished. He leaned forward, his voice dropping into something more suggestive. “You’re sharp. Attentive. I could use someone like you. I’d be willing to make it worth your while, in more ways than one.”

Pickle’s grip tightened on the tablet, their posture stiffening. “I’m not interested,” they said evenly, but there was a firmness beneath the words.

Devereux chuckled, leaning back with that same smug smile. “You’re loyal. I admire that. But come on, no need to be so formal. Rhoades doesn’t have to know everything, does he?”

Before Pickle could respond, the door creaked open, and Isaac stepped back into the room. His eyes scanned the scene quickly, his calm demeanor dropping into something colder. The files in his hand were forgotten as his gaze zeroed in on Devereux.

Isaac's jaw tightened. He didn’t speak right away, but the air around him seemed to thicken with tension. When he did, his voice was measured but held a chilling edge. “Mr. Devereux, I trust the conversation remained professional in my absence.”

Devereux leaned back, unfazed. “Of course. Just a bit of friendly conversation. No harm done.”

Isaac’s eyes darkened, and his presence seemed to fill the room as he stepped around his desk, subtly placing himself between Pickle and Devereux. His tone dropped, each word deliberate. “Pickle isn’t interested in any offers from you, personal or professional.”

The tension in Isaac’s posture was palpable now, though his face remained a controlled mask. His hands, however, were balled into fists, resting calmly but ominously at his sides.

Devereux raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the reaction. “Relax, Rhoades. Just talking. No lines crossed.”

Isaac’s gaze was hard, unwavering. “If you want to keep working with me, you’ll make sure that remains the case.” His voice was quiet but loaded with unspoken warning. “This conversation ends here. Now.”

Pickle placed a calming hand on Isaac’s arm, grounding him before the situation could escalate further. “It’s fine,” they said, their voice gentle but firm as they looked directly at Devereux. “This won’t happen again.”

Devereux’s smirk faltered, his bravado slipping at the realization that Pickle wasn’t playing along. He stood, shrugging nonchalantly. “Fair enough. I’ll be in touch, Rhoades.” He sauntered out, the door clicking shut behind him.

The tension finally broke, but Isaac’s rigid posture remained, his eyes fixed on where Devereux had just stood. He turned to Pickle, his voice dropping into something softer but still carrying the weight of his protectiveness. “Are you alright?”

Pickle smiled gently, stepping closer. “I’m fine. You handled it.”

Isaac sighed, some of the tension easing from his frame as he wrapped his arms around them. His tone softened even more, a rare moment of vulnerability showing beneath his usual stoicism. “No one crosses that line with you again. Not while I’m here.”

Pickle rested their head against his chest, letting the warmth of his embrace melt the last of the tension away. “I know. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

[katerinaaqu]

It is! Oftentimes.

-Yeah... Perhps that is true but I am not sur eanymore. I know he deleated the songs on Ismarus slaughter but yeah

-Yes perhaps it is unfair of me to take it out on you. It is just that I have answered this question more times than what I can count. I take that back. I am annoyed in general by this but yes it is unfair to take that out on you. Hahahaha fair enough true true. Like I said I take that back.

-To be fair I understand why and the example is quite blunt I understand but this is literally the level of Iconic scenes like Sirens or Circe are. Remove the sirens experience and you have a story where the shoe of Cinderella is no longer a thing and Cinderellla is recognized by something else instead.

-Clearly, I suppose. To me "retelling" is exactly what the word says "re tell a story". The story is there. The adittions to the story would be either fill in the gaps or add some piece of information that is part of the research. At least this is how I usually work on my retellings as well. I actually posted a small analysis as an example on how I usually do the stories

I am not saying if my work is a bad or good retelling (that is in the eye of the beholder). I am just saying that in my mind a retelling is not something that aims to change everything; is something that retells the story in the present potentially making some changes to make it easier to the target audience but all in all the basic plot is respected and followed, otherwise like I said is not retelling to me, just a "loosely based on" idea. I definitely agree to that I am not sure either what better word one can use at that case! Hahaha

-I did hear that from fans as well. Like I said there is nothing wrong with liking it especially since you are clearly also aware of the differences. It just doesn't vibe with me

-I agree to the first one. Yes if a story is said to be a retelling or an adaptation I myself expect it to be accurate. But at the same time I also get annoyed becase these stories had more than enough of unfaithful adaptations as well which again makes me a bit sad as well Generally I dslike this "fanom logic". On one hand it is great that people get dedicated and like something, on the other it becomes so hard to control these things and find truth from lie and imagination from fact sometimes. Indeed they are. I found most of them very nice. One or two again didn't vibe with me like "Suffering" but they were personal preferences (plus again linked to that iconic moment that got twisted hahaha)

-Oh yes I do find very good converstions on the matter for sure. Well call me crazy but again I think the OG Odyssey has as much video game logic as it can't be more. Like Odysseus slaughters Ismarus but saves Maron, Maron gives him the godly wine, Odysseus uses that godly wine to get Polyphemus drunk. The bag of winds needs not to be opened it is opened so the people move from one place to another. To defeat the witch you have to pay the price and sell yourself to her. You go to the underworld with stuff that she gives you and slay a sheep and not let others go to drink till Tiresias arrives. Tiresias gives a prophecy. To go through Skylla you try to fight but ultimatey you pay the price. To save yourself from Charybdis you need to grab on the tree the witch told you about etc. Not all video games have boss fights every five meters and I could absolutely see Odyssey as an open world video game already from the OG material. But maybe that is just me.

-Absolutely that is a positive outcome from it if more people get to read the original.

New Epic saga and it's horrible... to give you an idea, Odysseus fought Poseidon, stole his trident and made him beg for mercy

hmmm a god begging a mortal for mercy is not exactly on par with Greek religion and stories. How did that scene made it into the final version?

[itmeansiris]

The Solar System Legacy Challenge: Shopping Spree Gen 1 pt.80

When the group of women and Dite left to go shopping Kiersten and M joked the whole trip about going to the Brindelton Bridal shop to find bridesmaid dresses and fit Winter for a wedding dress. Winter protested the whole way. She'd even threatened to seal their feet to the ground with magic if they so much as set foot in the store.

Instead, they headed for the Halloween store to find costumes for the Spooky Day party. Inside, Winter and M immediately started trying on outfit's. Kiersten walked around with Dite looking but not trying anything on as M and Winter posed in front of the shop's many mirrors.

Winter: Check it out. I'm an angel.

M laughed wrapping her arms around Winter's shoulder.

M: You might be growing an angel but you sure as hell aren't one. Nice touch with the white wings, when did you learn to do that?

Winter: A trick I learned while training Adrianne on wing control.

Dite raced over hardly able to contain her excitement.

Aphrodite: Mom I think Kiersten found the perfect costumes for you guys. Hurry, Come see!

M and Winter changed out of their ridiculous costumes and headed over to the mannequins where Kiersten and Aphrodite were waiting. When they got closer M realized what they were looking at and Winter gasped.

Winter: I knew we were going to be good friends.

M: Wait. There are only 5. What about you and Rufus?

Kiersten looked at her a little sheepishly.

Kiersten: Rufus and I already have our costumes. Sorry M, we've been planning them since we got our invite in the mail.

M: It's okay. Me, Kason, Winter, Peyton. We need someone to wear the last one.

Winter: I have someone in mind.

With the costume debacle settled, they yanked the costumes from the rack and quickly checked out. Having fulfilled their immediate shopping needs Kiersten headed home. She'd gotten a text from Rufus and the boys but promised to come over to M's tomorrow to hang out again. Her and Winter shared a hug before she took off.

The rest of the group wandered the mall for a while. Winter eventually veered off, stopping in a maternity store while M and Aphrodite took a couple of graceless laps around the indoor ice-skating rank.

M eventually bowed out having spotted Winter at one of the café tables. Not wanting to risk further injury, on shaky legs, she half walked, half skated towards the exit hugging the rails closely. Aphrodite, ever the perfectionist, was determined to master the ice so she stayed a little longer.

M: Sweetie, I'll be over at the table with Auntie Winter. When you're ready we can head to the equine store.

Mercury joined Winter at the small table, the café was void of other patrons, likely due to the light snowfall that had begun outside. Winter was fiddling with a small grey box that had a clear screen and something floating inside.

M: What is that thing?

Winter: Stupid physic box they gave me with my purchase at the maturity store. Seems like a pretty useless thing to give to an expecting mother.

M: Or a spellcaster for that matter.

Winter tucked the toy away in one of her shopping bags and turned her attention back to M. The café started to fill up around them and a waiter approached.

Waiter: Hello ladies. Can I get you anything?

They politely declined. The waiter smiled and moved on to the next table greeting them with the same warm tone and bright smile to match her floral attire.

M: So are you gonna tell me when you found out you were having baby number four was it?

Winter groaned resting her head in her hand, yet she was smiling.

Winter: When you say it like that it sounds sorta crazy. We knew since your dads funeral. I was kind of suspicious, my magic was starting to stir without good reason.

M: How did Peyton take the news? I never imagined him a father of four though I guess I never imagined you with four kids either

Winter: He took it as well as the other three times honestly. He hardly blinked an eye. He just smiled and went on like it was a normal day.

M: He's grown up so much in the last 10 years. It's amazing to see who he's become.

Winter: Look at you all smiley and happy. You would never believe there was a demon terrorizing your life.

Mercury's smile didn't fade. She sat forward, arms resting on the table, and stared at them with a hint of sadness.

M: I'm just happy to see you is all. It's been far too long, I need to make it my business to come and see you more. Now that Zoh's a toddler he can handle the ride to San Myshuno.

Winter: Newcrest.

She corrected. M shook her head and huffed.

M: Right, Newcrest. It's so strange, you guys not living in the city.

Winter: It was weird at first but the kids love it and it's a better space for them to practice their magic freely without someone getting hurt or something getting broken.

M saw Aphrodite approaching, so she stood.

M: Well San Myshuno or Newcrest I'm coming to see you.

Winter stood and hugged her friend.

Winter: Don't be so hard on yourself. I'm not saying don't come but cut yourself some slack. You've been where I'm headed and traveling with 4 small kids would have been a disaster. It made since for us to travel to you. I love you Mercury.

M: Come on. I promised Dite we would go to High Horse Fashion.

Winter: Violionist and a horse wrangler. I wonder where she got that from? Spirit maybe?

M chucked and shrugged her shoulders as they headed for the door.

M: I have no clue.

Aphrodite pushed the large barn-like doors open and darted inside ahead of her mother and aunt. She ran over to the far wall staring at all the equipment lining the shelves.

M: Dite don't run in the store, please.

Winter: I'll look over here.

M stood behind her daughter when she broached an interesting question

Aphrodite: Hey mom do you think I can start getting an allowance?

M: I don't see why not. Any particular reason you're asking now?

Aphrodite pointed up at a coat hanging high on the wall.

Aphrodite: I want to buy that coat.

M smiled ever surprised by how Dite displayed her growing maturity.

M: Absolutely kiddo. Now I think we should find your riding clothes.

Instead of heading home after they finished their shopping spree, Winter suggested they hit the bowling lanes not ready to end the day. When they arrived Dite went upstairs to the kid's arcade where she would likely play Don't Wake the Llama as opposed to an actual arcade game. Winter and M checked in at the desk retrieving the overly used standard red and blue blowing shoes but never put them on. They sat by their assigned lane never bowling a single round, They sat talked losing track of time until Aphrodite complained she was ready to go home.

Winter spent the night with M. Kason always the gentlemen, offered up his place in bed and agreed to sleep downstairs on the sofa for the night. Winter tucked in that night thrilled at the time they spent with her closest friend but slightly relieved that she would be reunited with her husband and children in a few hours.

Previous Next

Beginning

Builds

Gallery ID: Abaybay514 High Horse Fashion is a retail 30x20 lot

Gallery ID: Mandykay77 Halloween Costume Shop is a retail 40x30 lot

Gallery ID: keongemini1 Brindelton Bay Mall is a retail 64x64 lot

Poses

@ratboysims sitting emotions & Parent and kid poses

@simcredibledesigns shopping bags

@plazasims Halloween set

Mods

@littlemssam Allowance Mod

[grxygreenrain]

i need to change my pfp in the same way that i need to reorganize my furniture

[keeps-ache]

HEY

[lux-scriptum]

Using my journal isnt helping so tumblr as my journal it is

[demetrius-haggarty]

Shrub Club: episode 4

'Ah, if only I knew more people that could understand my love for chomping cabbages,' Meech sighs as he feeds one of his 'little' toothy friends.

This particular one grew to be the healthiest in the batch and the Gryffindor still insisted on giving it a little extra each meal. The temperature and humidity of the freshly built greenhouse are close to their Professor's classroom so Demetrius moved his chomps here as soon as he could. He was convinced that they would start biting Leander's ankles if Meech left them in his care for too long. Not that he doesn't trust his dormmate. But he knows his cabbages too well. Whatever the girls did with their charmwork, the cabbages thrived in their greenhouse.

Demetrius didn't realize at first that he talked about his love for cabbages out loud. He turns around to look at the other members of the Shrub Club with his typical frown. Anyone who has known him for long enough knows that he's not really frowning. That's just how his face is.

'That was... rhetorical,' he mumbles. 'How has the decorating been going? I assume everyone agrees with Wren's idea of a beautiful Hawthorne growing under the main dome?'

The Gryffindor doesn't want to sound sentimental when he brings up The Tree but the thought still makes him feel cozy inside. Meech has been expecting a beautiful sapling to arrive all morning today (his gramps pitched in) and now that they are all gathered here after classes he is uncharacteristically nervous. Meech continues.

'I couldn't find a way to get a tree in here that is already as big as on Wren's sketch but I... We got some help with a very powerful fertilizer from Professor Garlick. Our tree should grow in a matter of hours and we get a chance to shape the branches and prune it as it goes. If you guys... want to do it together?'

The flapping of the wings is heard from the outside and Meech hurries over to accept the long-awaited green guest.

'Ta-da,' the Gryffindor says a little awkwardly but surprisingly with a huge grin on his scared face and a delicate sapling in his hands.

@theodoradevlin @justaskmagnoliaellistor @ask-wren-zhang

[dreamedfyre-a]

au where he.laena does want to go to battle after jae.haerys' death though..

[cosmic-kinglet]

I need to be stopped. I've written an entire page and a half more in my notes app from what I posted here last night. Thoughts just keep appearing, and I don't think they'll stop until I've written out all of these ideas. Like, I'm about to write Eclipse returning to consciousness and wondering what the hell happened. I want to write Ruin Eclipse accidentally triggering the effects while Eclipse is in his normal state, leading to both of them being equally confused and freaked out. I want to write Ruin Eclipse taking control again while Ruin has the protocol active, leading him to call Moon for help because 'why is he just standing there?? Why does he not seem like he wants to cause pain?? Why is he not saying anything??' Moon would then connect some dots and eventually request that Ruin Eclipse try to give some sort of command. To which Ruin Eclipse would give the order to take a step to the right and then to the left, leaving Moon to use every bit of his willpower to not scream, "Take it back now y'all! One hop this time!" Moon would realize what must have happened, and would use his earlier temptation and record Eclipse following along with Ruin Eclipse's orders, which Moon ensures are the exact movements for the Cha Cha Slide. He would use it for his own amusement and to utterly humiliate Eclipse once they got him functioning again.

Yeah, welcome to a small fraction of what goes on in my brain. I had to force myself to stop thinking about that last thing so I wouldn't just start laughing uncontrollably in public.

[sag-dab-sar]

Medical devices should not require an iOS or Android app to work. It took me twelve fucking minutes to set up and get my phone to connect to my migraine treatment device, 12 minutes during a horrendous migraine and I had to fight with my phone to get it to work instead of pressing a fucking button on the device. It might need a small controller to change strength but thats not fucking difficult to add.

Relying on a phone is bullshit: what if I'm out of battery? what if bluetooth is broken or something? what if I'm in too much pain to get the treatment app to work defeating the purpose? What if I'm paranoid about privacy so chose a non iOS/Android phone? What if I have issues with smartphones so use a classic cell phone? I know people that require that.

Requiring a disabled person to have iOS/Android in order for treatment to work is an unnecessary and borderline discriminatory practice.

Edit: After seeing all the personal anecdotes in comments reblogs and tags, I've come to a new conclusion— it is discriminatory.