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xoxo-sarah · 2 months ago

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If the Roles Were Reversed

My Wife part 2

Part 1

↝a/n: I have been given so much love for the first part and I can't express how grateful I am for it. It fills me with so much joy when people express how much they like my work. I have been asked to make a part two and who am I to say no?

↝pairing: season 1!Daryl Dixon x wife!reader

↝warning: season 1 episodes 3 & 4, angst, death, arguing, gore, zombies, typical twd stuff, not proofread, Ed

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 1.25.25

Daryl Dixon masterlist

“You can't go, Daryl. Listen to me-” You threw your hands around, watching Daryl pace in front of you. The peaceful expression he once had, when he had reunited with you, was wiped clean off of his face.

He was told the news about Merle and instantly became furious. No matter how much you tried to calm him, it was no use.

His brother was out there. Daryl argued that Merle would be out there looking for him if the roles were reversed.

“Listen, there are too many.” You stepped closer, trying to make him understand, “After the racket everyone made trying to leave, I bet there’s even more now.”

“They left my brother on a roof.” You could tell he was trying his hardest not to yell at you. He was never one to take his anger out on the one person he loves more than anything in the world. He was always gentle with you, just like you deserved.

Sighing, you didn’t know how to counter that. As much as everyone who was waiting on the other side of the R.V wanted you to talk some sense into your husband, Daryl had a point. After all, he had gone out to find you, even against Merle telling him not to.

If it had been Daryl who they had left behind, you would’ve already been in the city, searching. Even if you had to go by yourself, it wouldn’t matter.

None of that changed the fact that it’s dangerous. You couldn’t let him go.

You just got him back.

“He was out of control, you know how he can get. I don’t think they had a choice.” You whispered, trying to convince yourself just as much as him.

Daryl’s nostrils flared, as he tried to calm himself. He didn’t want to lash out on you, he never did. But he was about to break. “Merle is a prick, but he’s my brother.”

With that, Daryl walked around the R.V, shoulder checking Shane, who looked disappointed that you hadn’t helped de-escalate the situation. Daryl was stubborn, there wasn’t much you could do.

Carol quickly went back to what she was doing, not wanting to seem like she was being nosey. Which didn’t do much considering everyone in the camp was waiting. After the brawl that had happened when Daryl was told about Merle, everyone was interested in how this whole situation would turn out. Everyone else tried hiding their obvious interest as Daryl came into view. You walked behind him, head hung low, defeated and slightly scared.

Daryl walked toward the box truck, ready to leave.

Rick walked over to you, “So?”

“You shook your head, “He’s not gonna change his mind. I tried.”

He nodded in understanding. Lori looked on at the interaction. She had been the one to offer Rick showing Daryl the way to Merle. She was adamant on it, but at the same time mad at him for leaving. It was almost like she was testing him, seeing if he would actually leave his family to be the heroic cop from before. She wanted him to choose her and Carl over ‘the right thing to do’.

Rick cleared his throat, “It’ll be alright,” he nodded fiddling with the gun holster before turning back around.

Glenn backed the box truck closer, Daryl impatiently standing in the back. You walked toward him when the vehicle stopped. He squinted down at you against the beating sun, watching as you climbed into the truck.

“What’re you doin’?”

“Going with you.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Four’s enough.”

You didn’t care if Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog were also going. You had stayed in the city for a while, you knew your way around. Plus, you would be going for a different reason than the rest. They were going for Merle, you were going for Daryl.

“Stay here.” His voice was softer now. Truthfully, he didn’t want anything to happen to you. You were safer at the camp, with people you had grown comfortable with in such a short amount of time. “They’ll need somebody who knows how to hunt for somethin’ to eat. Fish is gonna get old fast.” You cracked a smile at his slight humor at the situation. Still, you didn’t want him to leave.

Daryl stepped closer, bringing you into his arms, his head resting on yours. The stench of sweat, dirt, and god knows what else didn’t bother either of you. He didn’t care that you didn’t smell like the sweet shampoo he loved, and you didn’t care that he didn’t smell like the body wash that you had bought him the last time you had gone to the store, or the cologne you loved.

“Keep an eye on everybody,” He kissed your forehead, mumbling against the skin, as he stayed close. “Don’t let anyone mess with ya.”

“When do I ever?” A smile threatened to make an appearance. But it wasn’t the time. He was worried about his brother.

Rick walked by, casting a glance back at the two of you, nodding. Inhaling deeply, you moved away from Daryl, jumping down from the truck. He sent you one more look before pulling the roll-up doors down. You stood there, listening to the box truck’s engine start. You continued to stand there even after the truck faded into the distance.

Dale watched as you fiddled with the rag he had given you to wipe the sweat off your brow. You kept fidgeting; ever since Daryl left.

He was quick to offer you to help him keep watch, but you were elsewhere ever since you climbed onto the roof of the R.V. You were trying, Dale could tell. But he saw the gears turning in your head, greased with the terrible thought of what could happen to your husband. The thought of Daryl always overpowered any other thought.

His greyed eyebrows raised as you shot up from your seat.

“Think i’m gonna go help with the laundry. To keep myself busy.” Dale didn’t say anything, only moving out of your way so you could climb down.

Making your way to the quarry, you focused on the voices in the distance and the sharp rocks under your feet. You walked past Ed, who sat comfortably in the back of the car, smoking while keeping an eye on Carol. He glanced up, taking a drag of his cigarette. Ignoring him, you carefully navigate your way down the rocks toward where Carol, Jacqui, Andrea, and Amy sat.

“Can somebody explain to me how the women wound up doing all the Hattie McDaniel work?” Jacqui grumbled, watching Shane and Carl fail at catching frogs, their laughter echoing.

“The world ended. Didn’t you get the memo?” Amy wrung the water out of a shirt, flicking hair out of her face. Carol glanced back, looking at Ed. She saw you walking toward them. Sending you a small smile. “It’s just the way it is.” Her eyes fell back to her husband.

“Care for some help?” You squinted at the group through the sun beating down into your eyes. Jacqui motioned to a turned over bucket, “Please.” Giving a tightlipped smile, you sat down ,grabbing a scrub brush and a piece of clothing.

The way the women conversated put you at ease. It was familiar. People at the office that you worked at, were exactly like them.

“I do miss my Maytag.” Carol said, scrubbing clothes against the old washboard.

“I miss my Benz, my Sat Nav.” Andrea added.

“I miss my coffeemaker with that dual-drip filter and built-in grinder, honey.” Jacqui smiled.

Amy pouted, “My computer…and texting.”

“I miss my t.v. And wine. Especially after a long day.” You groaned, remembering the days after work; where you would come home, take your shoes off and get wine and a movie ready. Daryl would come home a little later and join you.

Your reminiscing was cut short by Andrea, “I miss my vibrator.”

Stopping your scrubbing, you looked up at her, a surprised chuckle leaving your lips.

“Ohhhhh.” “Oh my God!”

Carol glanced back at Ed, “Me too.”

You laughed harder, along with the others.

“What’s so funny?”

Just like that, the atmosphere was ruined. Ed walked down, instantly taking the joy out of the air.

“Just swapping war stories, Ed,” Andrea looked back at him, before looking over at Carol. “Yeah.”

Ed walked closer. From your spot beside Carol, you could feel Ed looming behind. Carol instinctively folded in on herself, head sinking into her shoulders.

“Problem, Ed?” Andrea glared at him.

“None that concerns you,” He took another puff of his cigarette, “and you ought to focus on your work. This ain’t no comedy club.”

Andrea huffed, plopping the brush in the tin bucket.

“Just trying to make the best out of a bad situation.” You looked at him, face blank. He stared down at you. You waited for him to say something else. Surprisingly he only blew the smoke out, throwing the butt away. He stepped back, lighting another. Rolling your eyes, you turned back to the laundry. Andrea stood, walking toward him.

“Ed, tell you what, you don’t like how your laundry is done, you are welcome to pitch in and do it yourself. Here,” She threw the soaking wet piece of clothing in her hands at him.

He threw it back. Andrea gasped. “Ain't my job, missy.”

Amy stood, wanting to de-escalate the situation. She touched Andrea’s arm, “Andrea, don’t.”

“What is your job, Ed? Sitting on your ass, smoking cigarettes?”

You glanced at Carol, who sat quietly, still working.

“Well, it sure as hell ain’t listening to some uppity smart-mouthed bitch. Tell you what,” He motioned for Carol, who was out of her seat in a second. You grabbed her arm before she could fully stand up. You could see the fear and timidness in her eyes.

“C’mon, let’s go.” He continued to beckon her.

You stood, keeping a soft but comforting grip on her arm.

“I don’t think she needs to go anywhere with you, Ed.” Andrea continued.

Carol glanced up from the ground for a split second, meeting your eyes. She didn’t want to cause any more trouble. She would be dragged back to camp by Ed if that meant nothing else would happen. She knew Ed, what he was capable of.

“And I say that’s none of your business.” Ed beckoned for Carol again. “Come on, now. You heard me.”

Carol moved away from your grip. Andrea turned to her, “Carol,”

“Andrea, please. It doesn’t matter.”

Ed glared at the interaction, “Hey, don’t think I won't knock you on your ass, just ‘cause you some college-educated cooze, alright?”

Andrea scoffed at the audacity of the male in front of her. You stepped forward, grabbing Carol by the shoulder. You weren’t about to let her go with him when he was clearly becoming hostile.

“Now you come on now or you gonna regret it later.”

You softly said her name, ignoring her husband’s glare, and stepped closer to her in a protective manner.

“So she can show up with fresh bruises later, Ed?” Jacqui piped up for the first time since Ed walked over. “Yeah, we’ve seen them.”

Ed chuckled, “Stay out of this,” his harsh gaze pierced through his wife. “Now come on! You know what, this is none of y’all’s business. You don’t want to keep prodding the bull here, okay? Now I am done talkin’. Come on!”

You cringed at his words, moving in front of Carol as he walked closer. He ignored you, reaching around to grab at her arm with a harsh grip. The embarrassment was clear on her face. He pulled, knocking your balance slightly off as he yanked Carol from behind you. Her shoulder crashed into yours, feet moving in a jumble over your own.

“No. No, Carol. You don’t have-”

Carol muttered something under her breath, ignoring Andrea.

Ed swung around, spitting in Carol’s face. “You don’t tell me what! I tell you what!” His grip tightened, jagged nails biting into the soft skin of her upper arm. She whimpered quietly at the force. He raised his hand, striking her against the face. Gasping, you caught her as she fell back, grabbing her reddening cheek.

Everyone clamoured; Andrea hitting and pushing him away, you cursing him as Carol started crying. She fell further into you, as you held her protectively, hauling her away from him.

Ed was pulled back and thrown to the ground, before being dragged by the back of his shirt. Shane threw him further into to the ground, before throwing a punch, and another straight after.

“No!” Carol cried, trying to get away. Shane kept throwing punches, more skin breaking every time his fist hit Ed’s face. Carol covered her mouth, body swaying.

“Shane, stop!” “Enough! Enough!” “Just stop!”

Shane stopped, pointing a finger in Ed’s swollen and bloodied face. “You put your hands on your wife, your little girl, or anybody else in this camp one more time, I will not stop next time. Do you hear me?” He grabbed Ed’s face, squishing it in the process. “Do you hear me?!”

Ed slurred, “Yes.”

Shane let go, pointing again. “I’ll beat you to death, Ed.” With one final punch, he stood, kicking the man on the ground and walking away.

“God!” Carol cried, using strength you had never seen from her before, to break from you, running over to her husband.

The tension in the camp was suffocating after that. There was a tiny victory after Andrea and Amy went fishing and brought back dinner, but it was short lived. Jim had been found digging graves, which disturbed a lot of you.

Night fell and everyone began eating the fish-fry.

You smiled at Sophia as she passed the pan of fish. She was well-mannered; all thanks to Carol. She was a shy girl, but became a seemingly different kid when she was around other kids. She found friends in a world that would probably take them away before you could blink. She, along with the other kids, didn’t understand what was out there, all of the bad. They held an innocence that would be demolished in front of your eyes.

“I gotta ask you, man. It’s been driving me crazy.” One of the men that you met in the city, Morales, spoke up, directing it at Dale.

“What?”

“That watch,” he pointed at the watch on Dale’s wrist.

Dale smiled, “What’s wrong with my watch?”

Morales continued, “I see you everyday, the same time, winding that thing like a village priest saying mass.”

“I’ve wondered this myself.” Jacqui smiled.

Dale threw his hands up playfully, “I’m missing the point.”

You looked between him and his watch, the fire casting a warm gleam over it, brightening the brown leather.

“Unless I've misread the signs, the world seems to have come to an end. At least hit a speed bump for a good long while.” Jacqui shrugged her shoulders.

“But there’s you, everyday, winding that stupid watch.” Morales raised his eyebrows at the old man.

“Time- it’s important to keep track, isn’t it? The days, at least. Don’t you think, Andrea? Back me up here.”

They shared a knowing look, their faces glowing in the fire from where you sat. She sent him a seemingly warning glare, but his smile didn’t falter.

“I like- I like what, um, a father said to son when he gave him a watch that had been handed down through generations. He said “I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire, which will fit your individual needs no better than it did mine or my father’s before me; I give it to you not that you may remember time, not that you may forget it for a moment now and then, and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it.””

Huh,” Morales nodded at the answer, not really expecting it.

Everyone sat in silence around the fire, before Amy broke it, “You are so weird.”

Laughter echoed as you took a swig of beer. It wasn’t wine, but it wasn’t pure water so it would do.

“It’s not me. It’s Faulkner, William Faulkner.”

Amy rolled her eyes at Dale.

The older man chuckled, “Maybe my bad paraphrasing.”

Amy stood, walking away from the fire. Andrea stopped her, “Where are you going?”

“I have to pee.” The younger sister raised her brows, “Jeez, you try to be discreet around here.” She quickly walked off, toward the R.V.

Dale turned to you, “What about you? You fiddle with that on your wrist.” You looked down at the bulky thing around your wrist. “Was my dog’s collar.” Dale’s smile turned sad. While rushing out of your house, you had grabbed the collar from the leash you would walk her around the block with. Her name was embroidered; a gift from Daryl when he first surprised you with a puppy.

You tightened it into a bracelet, holding her memory close. Truthfully, you had forgotten about it being on your wrist. You didn’t notice how much you fidgeted with it. Dale did, when you were on watch with him.

You didn’t think about the dog for long.

The R.V door opened, and Amy stepped out. “We’re out of toilet paper?” She yelled. Before she could get an answer, a hand grabbed her forearm from behind the other side of the door. She stood in shock as a walker moved closer to her. She screamed, feeling the walker bite down.

Your head instantly snapped up, eyes growing wide at the sight. More walkers came from each direction, limping forward. Everyone screamed, jumping up. Parents grabbed their kids, others grabbed weapons. Gunshots echoed, making your ears ring. You were quick to instinctively reach for your gun. Unfortunately, that gun was still in Glenn’s bag with no bullets.

A hand on your shoulder had you swiveling around, pushing the walker that simply snarled at you. Pushing with all your strength, you didn’t wait for it to hit the ground before you were running.

Another walker stumbled toward you from behind, dirty nails digging into your skin. This walker was closer, a stench wafting into your nose before you could push it away. You tried, but from the angle in which the walker had grabbed you, you could only push its head away, fingers avoiding its snipping teeth.

You screamed, still hearing Shane unload his gun in the distance.

Andrea wailed, watching another walker bite a gash out of Amy’s shoulder, right where her neck meets it.

The grip tightened on you, making you hiss. Their nails were long and had the bite to prove it. One final hit had the walker staggering back, grip falling off. You turned, running toward the R.V, where Shane, Lori, Carol, Morales, and their families were. More gunfire rang out.

Making it to the vehicle, you turned back, seeing Daryl and the others coming out of the woods. He was the first out, head snapping in ebery direction. The other were soon to follow.

Daryl spotted you. He looked around, making sure no more walkers were around, before running toward you. Your bodies collided, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

He pulled back, “You hurt?”

“No, i don’t think- I don’t know.”

You were in shock, your jumbled words and wide eyes proving it. You couldn’t think. You rubbed where you were scratched.

In your time since the world ended, you had hidden in the top floor of a building. If you were ever met with danger, you always had a gun or knife handy.

Tonight, you were completely unprepared.

In the dark, you couldn't tell if the skin of your arm was broken. Clinging back to Daryl, you turned your head to where Andrea laid beside Amy. Blood pooled around them. Amy’s body went limp, sending Andrea to sobs. Closing your eyes tightly, you turned back to Daryl, pushing your face into his neck. He held you close, hiding the shake in his hands.

He had heard your scream.

That’s what had him running through the woods with only you in mind, leaving the other behind.

Part 3

•2021-2025 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

Tags from the last chapter who wanted part 2: @notmirnda @vomiting-blood @i93jjk @multifandomfan @gaudesstuff @cymbalta-slut

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blueeyedgirll · 7 months ago

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cuddles - emily prentiss x bau!reader

this fic includes: fluff, cuddling, only one bed trope (kind of?), vague descriptions of cm typical violence, no beta or proofread we die like emily’s fake death, penelope garcia being the best person to ever have graced the earth, no use of y/n, f!reader

a/n: guys i’m on season 7 now (^_-) also i don’t know how the fbi works SUE ME

“God, what a mess!” Emily exclaims, setting her bags down in the corner of the hotel room.

Unfortunately, due to the horrendously overcrowded convention going on nearby and your latest unsub’s comfort zone, you, JJ, Penelope, and Emily were forced to share a room.

“I can’t believe they could only give us two rooms. Couldn’t we have just stayed somewhere else?” JJ adds, removing her coat and hanging it in the room’s tiny closet.

“Unfortunately, my friends, our administration seems to love us enough to pay for our hotels, but not enough to move us into a company they don’t have a rapport with,” Penelope explains. She removes her hair accessories and piles them on the bathroom counter, her foot wedged in the bathroom door to stay in the conversation. “But it’s like a sleepover! Us girls get to share a room, and the boys have their own.”

“I haven’t had a sleepover since I was 12,” JJ says.

“Me neither,” you pipe up. “So who’s sleeping where tonight?”

Your eyes scan the room. Four girls, two beds, and eight eyes glancing at each other.

“I’m fine with sharing, but I do need to let you know I tend to steal blankets,” Penelope says, placing her accessories in a small box.

“Yeah, I’m fine with anything.” JJ says.

You and Emily briefly lock eyes. If you said sleeping in the same bed as Emily didn’t sound amazing, you’d be a liar. She’d been distracting you from your work and almost all your thoughts for the last few weeks; something about her demeanor, or her dark, sharp features, or that streak of playfulness she lets show on occasion. Whatever it is, it continues to drive you up a wall.

“Well, if none of you care, I want the bed closer to the AC unit because it is a stupidly warm night here.” Penelope steps over to the bed on the right side of the room, unpacking a fuzzy blanket and an extra pillow — how did she fit that in there? — from her bag.

“True that. If you two don’t mind, I’ll sleep closer to the AC too.” JJ says, looking between the two of you before moving.

“Yeah, go ahead.” You say, just a little bit too happy. You tell Emily to go ahead and get comfortable because you’re going to change. She nods as you shut yourself in the bathroom.

You use the bathroom to take a moment, take a breath. Part of you wonders what it will be like, sleeping in the same bed as Emily. The rest of you wonders how you’re going to keep your cool.

You change into your sleep clothes, a tank top and small shorts. The cool air of the room makes the hair on your body stand up.

You walk back out to a dark, silent room. The only light left on was the one to the left of Emily.

“Ready for bed?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you say, climbing into bed and wrapping the soft covers around you. Emily clicks the light off and slides down in the bed.

Before you can even start relaxing, images of the day flash back into your mind. The things the unsub did to his victims. The distraught loved ones of the deceased. The endless papers, leading you to repeated dead ends.

It only feels like a few minutes, but over the course of time, you grow colder and more restless. You toss and turn, trying to get more comfortable, but to no avail. Sighing, you turn to check the time, trying to find an estimate of how much sleep you would get.

The clock reads 4:24. You start contemplating just waking up extra early, but before you can reach a conclusion, you hear a whisper.

“Hey, you alright?” Emily whispers, turning to face you.

You pause for a moment. How honest should you be?

“Yeah, just… cold,” you say.

Emily takes a moment. You think she’s going to get up to grab a blanket, or lend you a hoodie, or anything else, but she scoots over to where you are and wraps her warm arms around your body. She gives you a firm squeeze. You know she knows you’re not just cold.

She starts to move away like it was just a hug. Before you can make a better decision, your hands stop her.

“Do you want me to stay?” Emily whispers.

You nod. Even though the darkness, Emily understands. She moves back to you, tucking your head into her shoulder. She wraps her arms around your middle and pulls the blanket fully over you.

She smells like lotion and coffee and clean clothes. It’s addictive. You nuzzle your head deeper into her, earning a small laugh and her hand making its way into your hair. She runs her nails over your scalp, brushing the hair off your neck.

“Are you okay?” she asks. You just hum, making her laugh again. “Goodnight. Sleep well for me.”

And with her arms around you, hand in your hair, you drift off into a comforting sleep.

bonus — the next morning, you wake up to giggling, which is quickly hushed. the entire day you and emily are the victims of glances and hushed whispers. on the jet home, you finally decide to ask penelope what was up with it. she doesn’t verbally respond, just shows you a picture of you sleeping like a baby, tucked into emily’s chest. at that moment she comes over, smiles, and walks back to her seat.

#emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x bau reader

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ankababy · 1 month ago

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A Home (part 3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Chishiya x reader x Niragi

How come you’re such an angel? Why would you worry about someone like Niragi? Why, sweet little Y/N?

It had become a pattern by now.

You walked in. They ignored each other. They ignored you.

And yet, they never seemed to leave the same room. Even now, you stepped into the living room and found them so painfully far apart—Niragi sprawled across one end of the couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table, while Chishiya leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed.

They should’ve moved.

They didn’t.

They liked to annoy each other too much.

You took it all in, the heavy, charged silence stretching between them, the way their postures were so casual.

God. They were exhausting.

Still, you smiled. “Good morning.”

Niragi didn’t look up.

Chishiya barely blinked.

So, business as usual.

You rolled your eyes, stepping further inside. “Wow, okay, guess we’re doing the silent treatment thing now. Real mature, guys.”

Nothing.

You ignored the urge to sigh.

Brats.

Instead, you made your way toward the kitchen, toward Chishiya—who didn’t move as you passed him, but you felt his gaze drift to you.

You were used to it now. He was always watching. Which was fine, because you were watching too. Chishiya, in all his distant, calculated ways, was easier to read than he liked to think. He never did anything without a reason.

So, when you stepped past him and reached for the pan, you glanced at him, eyes playful. “You never wake up this early.”

“Didn’t sleep much.”

“Mm.” you hummed, turning on the stove. “Thinking too hard?”

His silence was answer enough.

Meanwhile, Niragi groaned dramatically from the couch, stretching like a cat, clearly bored. “If I have to hear one more of your dry-ass conversations, I’m gonna hang myself with the toaster cord.”

You snorted. “So go somewhere else?”

Niragi scoffed, throwing an arm over his face. “You go somewhere else.”

You grabbed a few eggs, cracked them over the pan, and let the smell of breakfast start to fill the air. “What do you guys want?”

Silence.

Of course.

You smiled to yourself. Pricks. “Not answering? Great. I’ll just give you whatever I want, then.”

Niragi waved a lazy hand. “Sounds good, baby.”

Chishiya said nothing, but you knew he was watching. He always was.

You let the quiet settle over you, the warmth of the stove heating your skin, and despite their constant refusal to cooperate, despite their stubborn, endless silence—you liked them.

You really, really liked them.

And you really had no idea what these boys used to wake up to before you found them half-dead on the street, but you weresure it wasn’t the sound of a girl happily rambling while making them breakfast.

Oh well. They’d have to get used to it.

The eggs sizzled in the pan, the warm scent filling the kitchen, and you hummed as you flipped them over, tossing some seasoning in just to be cute. “I think I’m gonna redecorate.”

Neither of them responded. Which was fine. They weren’t exactly the morning chat over coffee types.

Did that stop you? No.

“It’s too boring in here. Everything’s all beige and gray. I think I wanna paint the walls.”

Still, nothing. So, naturally, you kept going. “Like, obviously, pink is the first choice, but I also thought about pastels, you know? Maybe a cute little lavender theme. Or warm tones! Peach, maybe? Ooh, or floral wallpaper!”

Silence.

Niragi had his head leaned back against the couch, arms stretched over the top, legs kicked up on the coffee table—so painfully uninterested. Chishiya, still leaning against the counter, hadn’t blinked in at least five minutes.

You stirred the eggs with a little more enthusiasm. “Maybe I’ll get some new furniture too. Imagine this place all soft and girly, and you two just sitting here looking all…” You gestured vaguely in their direction. “Like that.”

Niragi finally cracked an eye open. “Like what? You’ll live.”

You rolled your eyes, finishing up their plates. “Anyway,” you continued. “I think I’m gonna find some flowers too. Maybe a few paintings. It’s just too dead in here, you know?”

Again, no answer.

You turned around, plates in hand, eyes soft. “You guys have been in enough dead places.” You stepped over to Niragi first, handing him his plate. “Here. Don’t bitch about it.”

He scoffed, as you set it in front of him, your hand patted the top of his head softly. Not a big deal. Not to you, at least. (He froze. Blinked. Then clicked his tongue, muttering a sharp “Oi.” Like he was offended.)

You ignored him, moving toward Chishiya and handing him his plate. “And for you, doctor.”

He stared at you. Then, quietly, “Thank you.”

Oh. That was unexpected.

You smiled at him. “You’re welcome.”

Then, with a stretch and a yawn, you leaned against the counter, hands behind you, absolutely beaming.

There was something about watching you.

Not in a weird way. Well—maybe in a weird way. But neither of the boys really meant to do it. It just… happened.

You stood at the counter, humming some gentle little tune, moving effortlessly between the sink and the stove. Cleaning up, putting things away, wiping down the already-spotless counters—like taking care of things was just second nature to you.

It pissed Niragi off.

Not you, necessarily. Just… what you were. What you represented.

Because people like you weren’t supposed to exist anymore. The world should’ve chewed you up and spit you out like it did everyone else. It should’ve taken that soft voice and those gentle hands and crushed them into dust.

And yet, here you were. Still standing. Still breathing. Still smiling.

The worst part? It wasn’t fake. You weren’t pretending.

He’d seen it before—the fragile little acts people put on when they were terrified, when they thought kindness would keep them alive, when they thought smiling meant survival.

But you? You weren’t scared. You weren’t even cautious.

Even now, after whatever the fuck happened that night, after dragging yourself home with barely enough strength to open the fucking door—you were still like this.

That wasn’t normal. That wasn’t how people worked.

Niragi stabbed at his food with his fork, scowling.

And across the room, Chishiya… thought the same thing.

Only, he wasn’t angry. Just curious. Because he was sure—so sure—that you weren’t naive. You weren’t walking around with that sweetness because you were blind to what this world was. He’d seen it in your eyes from the moment he woke up on that couch.

You knew exactly what this place could do to people.

And yet, somehow, it hadn’t done it to you.

Why?

How?

He didn’t feel much, never had, probably never would—but something about you wasn’t normal.

Chishiya knew people. He could read them, predict them, manipulate them—but you? He hadn’t figured you out yet.

And that was unacceptable.

He let his gaze linger on you for a little longer. Then, slowly, he took another bite of food.

And Niragi—scowling, shifting in his seat, eyes burning into the back of your head—did the same.

You moved and sat down next to him, the couch dipping as you settled in. It wasn’t anything significant—you weren’t all over him, weren’t trying to get in his face, weren’t touching him—just sitting.

And that pissed him off.

Because why the fuck were you like this?

There wasn’t an ounce of fear in you, not when it came to him. Not when you should’ve been looking at him like a bomb set to go off, not when you should’ve been keeping your distance.

Instead, you were right there.

And that fucking smile.

“How do you feel?” you asked softly.

Like tearing someone apart. Like getting up and leaving this stupid fucking apartment and letting this city swallow him whole, because the walls were too close, and you were too fucking close, and—

“I feel great.”

Flat, clipped, sarcastic.

Because he didn’t want to talk to you.

Except he kind of did.

And that was just another thing to add to the list of shit he didn’t understand.

You hummed, tilting your head. “No pain? Nothing at all?”

Niragi smirked. “You think a couple bruises and stitches are gonna slow me down?”

“No, but they should.”

God, you were so sweet about it. Like you actually cared. Like it mattered to you.

And that pissed him off even more.

Because why the fuck would you care?

He’d met people like you before, people who said they were nice, people who acted like they gave a shit, but it was always fake. It had to be. Because nothing in this world was real, not kindness, not comfort, not warmth.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

But you? You weren’t fake.

And that… that was a problem.

Because if you were fake, it would be easy to ignore you. If you were fake, he wouldn’t be thinking about you.

If you were fake, he wouldn’t be here.

You let a small silence stretch before speaking again. “Don’t you have to play soon?”

“Tch. Yeah.”

“I can go with you.” Without hesitation. Oh, Y/N.

And something about that, something about your voice, the way you said it like it was nothing made him want to punch a hole in the wall.

And not because he didn’t want you there.

But because he did.

Because you were his favorite kind of person to watch suffer.

Soft. Good. Pure.

Someone who didn’t belong here, someone who shouldn’t be breathing the same air as people like him.

He should’ve said yes just to see you break. Just to see if that kindness could hold up against the kind of games he’d played before. To see you fucking cry and want to kill yourself, to want to escape and scream and screech just for him to get away from you to—

“I don’t need you there.”

Hm.

“Alright, then.” Your voice was soft. Accepting. Like you weren’t about to push him, like you weren’t going to fight him on it.

And that pissed him off even more. Because it would be so much easier if you did. If you whined, if you begged, if you pressed. If you just acted like everyone else.

But no, you were just… nice about it. Like you actually fucking cared if he was okay. Like it mattered to you if he made it back.

And then, to make things worse, you lifted a hand—gentle, slow, unthreatening—and touched his arm. Softly. Barely.

But he felt it.

“Don’t. Fucking. Touch me.”

It was harsh. Too harsh. A full-body recoil like you had just burned him.

You just smiled. Like you saw right through him. Like you knew exactly why he was reacting this way.

Like you knew that it wasn’t hate.

Like you knew that it wasn’t because he didn’t want you to touch him—but because he did.

Because no one had ever touched him like that.

No one had ever meant it.

And he couldn’t fucking handle it.

You let your fingers drag away from him, slow, careful, like you were backing off but still letting him feel it. And then, you stood up. Didn’t say another word. Just walked over to the kitchen, reaching for Chishiya’s plate without even looking at him.

Like you weren’t aware of the fact that he had been watching.

The entire time.

And Chishiya? Chishiya had been learning.

Because Niragi wasn’t hard to figure out. Not to him.

And this? This was fascinating.

Because Niragi was a dog. A violent, rabid thing that bit when he got too close, that snapped his teeth when things got uncomfortable.

And what did rabid dogs do when they were backed into a corner?

They attacked.

Not out of power.

Out of fear.

And Niragi was afraid.

Because he was feeling something he didn’t know what to do with. Something that didn’t fit into the world he had built for himself. Something that confused him, that scared him.

And you were the cause.

Chishiya already knew you were different. That you were too soft for this world. That you didn’t belong here.

But now? Now he knew why Niragi was really fighting you.

It wasn’t because he hated you.

It was because he didn’t.

And that was dangerous.

For all of you.

Niragi was gone.

You had seen him walk out that door. And now you were here, sitting on the couch, facing the front door like some housewife waiting for her husband to come home from work.

Except this wasn’t a normal world. And Niragi wasn’t a normal man.

And you weren’t sure he was coming back.

Oh, no—don’t think like that.

He was fine.

He had to be.

Because that’s what Niragi was, right? Fine.

A survivor. A violent, ruthless thing that didn’t just exist in this world but thrived in it. The type of person who didn’t need help, who didn’t need care, who would sooner die than admit he was vulnerable.

He’d be fine.

Wouldn’t he?

You exhaled slowly, pressing your hands against your knees, steadying yourself.

It wasn’t him you didn’t trust.

It was the world.

He was a fighter, yeah, but that wasn’t always a good thing.

Because fighters didn’t just survive. They got themselves killed. And Niragi? He had that particular kind of recklessness, the one that made you wonder if he even wanted to live at all.

That wasn’t the same thing as being fearless.

Oh, no.

Fearless people wanted to live.

Niragi? He wasn’t afraid to die.

Because he’d already lost.

Something. Everything.

You didn’t know what.

But you knew that look.

That almost dead, hollowed-out look in someone’s eyes when they had nothing left to lose.

That was dangerous.

Because what do people like that do?

They go too far. They throw themselves into death like they’re testing it, playing with it, seeing if today is the day it finally catches them.

And Niragi was the type to laugh at it. To take the most brutal, most fucked-up games just to feel something, anything.

The type to walk into battle knowing it might be the last time, and not caring.

And that? That scared you.

Because Niragi was already playing with death.

And you were afraid that one of these days, it was going to win.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before Chishiya sat down next to you.

He was quiet, barely making a sound, like a cat slipping into a room unnoticed. You didn’t look at him, just glanced slightly from the corner of your eye as he leaned back against the couch, draping an arm over the back like he had nowhere better to be.

“How are you?”

You blinked. Turned your head to look at him. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t immediately respond, only tilted his head slightly, eyes flickering over you, down to the places where injuries were hidden under your clothes.

“Your body.” he clarified. “How is it?”

Ah.

You almost laughed.

He hadn’t asked out of care.

It wasn’t concern.

It was curiosity.

Because Chishiya wasn’t the kind of man who worried.

You exhaled softly, glancing down at your hands. “I’ll live.”

And he didn’t argue.

Didn’t press.

Because he knew it was true.

But he stayed.

He didn’t move.

And that was enough to know he wanted to talk.

So, you let the silence stretch for a moment, then finally asked, “You don’t talk much, huh?”

He let out a quiet huff, the closest thing to a laugh you’d ever heard from him. “You talk enough for the both of us.”

You smirked. “You’re lucky I do, then. Otherwise, we’d just sit here in silence.”

He didn’t argue with that, either. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, studying you. “You’re waiting for him.”

It wasn’t a question. You still answered anyway.

“I’d wait for you, too.”

“You shouldn’t.”

You raised a brow. “Why?”

Chishiya sighed softly, shifting in his seat. “Because Niragi is an idiot.”

You actually laughed this time. “That’s not really a reason.”

Chishiya smirked slightly, glancing toward the door. “He’s reckless. He doesn’t care if he dies.”

You frowned slightly. “Yeah, well… that doesn’t mean I don’t.”

Chishiya was silent for a moment. And then he looked at you again, pretty eyes scanning your face, as if searching for something.

And you wondered—what did he see when he looked at you? What did his brain, his cold, calculating, sociopathic brain think when it tried to figure you out?

Because you knew he was. You saw the way his fingers tapped against his knee, the way his eyes lingered, the way he tilted his head slightly when you spoke.

You weren’t just a person to him.

You were a puzzle.

And Chishiya loved puzzles. He liked people he could tear apart and put back together. But you? You were still a mystery. Still unsolved.

And that’s why he stayed.

That’s why he talked to you at all.

It wasn’t about care.

It was about understanding.

Because if there was one thing Chishiya hated, it was not knowing something.

And youu were something he didn’t know.

You let the silence settle for a moment. Let him watch you, let him try to figure you out like a puzzle with a missing piece. Then, with a soft voice, you asked, “And you? How are you feeling?”

Chishiya blinked, barely, like the question was unexpected. Because it probably was.

He was good at that—pretending. Pretending your question was no shit, that he didn’t care, that you were the one caring too much. He was just sitting there.

But you knew better.

Because you had been the one to find him bleeding out. You had been the one to carry him home. To clean his wounds, to wrap him up, to keep him alive when the world had done its best to kill him.

And now? Now he was here. On your couch. In your home. Sitting next to you.

So, you weren’t going to let him act like none of that happened.

He sighed, dragging his eyes away from you, toward the ceiling. “I’m alive.”

You smiled. “So am I. Doesn’t mean I feel good.”

That made him glance at you again. “You’re too smart for your own good.” he muttered.

“And you’re too good at avoiding questions.”

That actually got a smirk out of him. “Touché.”

You tilted your head, watching him closely. “Do you feel any pain?”

He shrugged slightly. “Less than before.”

You hummed, leaning back against the couch. “Good. I’d feel bad if I nursed you back to health just for you to drop dead in my living room.”

“What a tragedy that would be.”

You smiled. “I’d cry.”

Chishiya gave you a look. “You don’t even know me.”

You shrugged. “I don’t have to know you to be sad if you die.”

His smirk faded slightly. And you knew that had hit something.

Because Chishiya wasn’t used to that.

To people caring.

Not without a reason, not without something to gain in this world. Back in the normal world, sure. He saw crying mothers, fathers, friends and family. But here, it wasn’t people crying over someone they knew surviving, it was crying about themselves surviving.

And yet, here you were, telling him you’d cry if he died.

Not because he was useful. Not because he could offer you something in return.

Just because.

Because you were you. Because you cared, whether he understood it or not.

And he didn’t.

He didn’t understand you.

He didn’t understand why you were like this.

Why you took him in.

Why you let Niragi stay.

Why you were sitting next to a sociopath and a psychopath, making them breakfast, asking if they were okay, talking to them like they weren’t the worst kinds of people.

You were insane.

And yet he liked you.

He didn’t know why. Didn’t know what part of his brain, what tiny, irrational part of himself was keeping him here, making him engage, making him talk to you when he wouldn’t have bothered with anyone else.

But it didn’t matter.

Because here he was.

And here you were.

And you didn’t look away from him. Didn’t pull back, didn’t shy away, didn’t flinch at the fact that he was who he was.

No.

You just smiled. Like none of that scared you. Like you could see through every layer he had built and still thought he was worth saving.

The conversation naturally faded, dissolving into silence. Not an awkward one, not one that begged to be filled—just a quiet moment, a breather. You leaned back against the couch, staring at nothing in particular, lost in your own thoughts.

And he was doing the same.

You could feel it.

Chishiya was next to you, sitting just close enough for his presence to be tangible, but not enough to feel invasive. He wasn’t the type to invade unless it was for his own amusement. No, this was something else.

And, strangely, you liked it. You liked that something else. You liked sitting here, not talking, just thinking.

And that was rare. Most silences were filled with tension, with something left unsaid, with expectations. But this one? It was just that. A silence.

Your mind wandered. To everything and nothing. To him. To the fact that this man had seen your bare tits, had literally touched you, had wiped blood from your skin, and yet, you didn’t fucking care.

And that was strange.

You should care. Should feel embarrassed. Should have freaked out when he walked into the bathroom, should have pushed him away when he touched you.

But you hadn’t.

You had let him.

Because it had been nothing. Guy was a doctor, wasn’t he?

And yet—was that really it? Or was it because, deep down, you trusted him? Trusted a man you had barely known for three days.

You dragged your eyes over to him. He was thinking, you could tell. The way his fingers tapped lightly against his leg, the way his gaze was unfocused, not looking at anything in particular. His mind was probably running a mile a minute, analyzing, pulling apart every little thing that had happened.

What was he thinking about?

You?

Niragi?

The way you sat next to him, comfortable, unbothered, despite knowing what kind of person he was?

You almost wanted to ask.

But you didn’t. Instead, you sat there, your mind drifting again.

You thought about Niragi, about his reaction, about how he had been so mad that Chishiya knew something he didn’t.

Because Niragi felt too much.

He didn’t know what to do with his emotions, didn’t know how to process them, so he turned them into rage.

Chishiya, on the other hand? He didn’t feel enough.

Didn’t get attached.

Didn’t care.

Yet, he was still here.

Still sitting next to you.

Still waiting for something.

But what?

You let out a quiet breath and turned your gaze back toward the ceiling.

Maybe you’d never know.

Maybe you didn’t need to.

Because, at the end of the day, all three of you were just trying to survive.

“Why do you wait for him?”

You blinked, turning your head slightly to look at him as his voice broke the silence. He was already watching you.

There was no judgment in his tone, but you could tell he had already formed his own theory. He always did.

You let out a small breath, turning your gaze back toward the front door. “I don’t know.” you admitted softly. “I just… want to.”

Chishiya hummed, as if considering your words, but you could tell he wasn’t satisfied. He tilted his head slightly, watching you, his fingers drumming lightly against his leg. “I thought, for a second, that maybe you had some dumb little crush on him. But you’re too mature for that. Too smart. You wouldn’t let yourself fall for someone like him.”

You didn’t say anything.

Because he was right.

You weren’t stupid. You weren’t reckless. You knew exactly who Niragi was.

And so did Chishiya. Which was why, after a moment, he looked at you, and said, “You know what he’s done, don’t you?”

It wasn’t a question.

It was a statement.

You swallowed, pressing your lips together. “I know he’s done things.” you admitted carefully. “But I don’t know the details.”

Chishiya’s eyes gleamed at that. Like he had been waiting for you to say that. Like he had been waiting for an excuse.

“I’ve seen Niragi burn people alive.” His voice was calm, as always, detached, like he was talking about some random animal he had studied, not an actual person.

The words hit like a gut punch. You didn’t react, not externally, but you felt it.

He continued. “He doesn’t kill because he has to. He kills because he wants to. Because it amuses him. Because it gives him something to do.”

Your fingers curled slightly against your lap.

Chishiya leaned back, still watching you. “I watched him shoot a man in the leg once, just to see how long he could crawl before bleeding out. Didn’t even bother killing him. Just left him there.”

A pause.

“He likes power.”

Another pause.

“He likes knowing he’s the worst thing someone has ever encountered.”

Your stomach felt tight.

“You think I’m cruel?” he asked.

You frowned slightly at the sudden shift. “What?”

“You think I’m cruel,” he repeated, slower this time. “but you don’t think he’s cruel.”

“I never said that.”

“No,” Chishiya said. “but I can tell. You think Niragi is lost.” His lips curled slightly. “You think he’s a hurt little boy who just never learned how to deal with his emotions.”

He was mocking you.

But there was truth in his words.

You did think that.

Because it was true.

“You think he can be saved.” His voice was quieter now. Calm. “You’re wrong.”

The words hung in the air, heavy, absolute. Chishiya meant them.

You didn’t know if he was right.

Because Niragi was fucked up, that was clear. He was dangerous, psychotic, violent.

But was he beyond saving?

Chishiya seemed to think so.

You weren’t sure if you did.

You looked at Chishiya, at the way he sat so still, so composed, so utterly sure of his own assessment.

And yetdespite everything, despite all the hatred in his voice when he spoke of Niragi, you could tell.

How similar they were.

How much he hated Niragi not just because of what he did, but because he saw something of himself in him.

And he hated that.

You exhaled, looking down for a moment, gathering your thoughts. Chishiya had spoken his piece, and he had spoken it with certainty—like it was fact, not opinion. That was the way he operated. He observed, calculated, concluded. And he did it all like a machine processing information, stripping away everything unnecessary—like emotions.

But you weren’t like that. You worked differently. You didn’t just observe, you understood. You saw people for more than their actions. You looked past the behaviors, the surface-level brutality, and into the why.

“I think people like this,” you started, choosing your words carefully. “usually have a reason.”

Chishiya made a soft noise—something between a hmm and a scoff, but you continued before he could interrupt.

“Not an excuse.” you clarified. “Not a justification. Just… a reason. Something that turned them into this. Something that made them feel like this is the only way to exist.”

Chishiya tilted his head slightly, listening.

You kept going. “I don’t judge people until I know what’s underneath. Until I know why they are the way they are.”

Chishiya exhaled softly, a quiet hmph “That’s a dangerous mindset. Could get you killed.”

“It’s gotten me this far.” you said simply.

He didn’t argue with that.

You studied him for a moment. The way he sat, relaxed, the way his eyes stayed on you—not in a confrontational way, but in a way that told you he was interested.

And that was the thing about Chishiya. You knew he wasn’t a good person. He admitted it himself, in the way he spoke, in the way he carried himself, the way he distanced himself from the world. But he was intelligent, analytical, always multiple steps ahead.

And this—this type of conversation?

This, he liked.

“You said he enjoys killing.” you said. “That he likes power. That he likes knowing he’s the worst thing someone has ever encountered.”

Chishiya gave a small nod.

“But people don’t just wake up like that.” you said, your voice thoughtful, careful. “Nobody is born like that. It’s something that’s shaped. Something that’s forced into a person.”

Chishiya’s expression didn’t change, but you saw the flicker of something in his eyes.

He knew you weren’t just talking about Niragi anymore.

You were talking about him, too.

And he let you.

“People who hurt like that,” you continued“are usually people who have been hurt just as badly. Or worse. People who had no control. People who were victims, so they make sure they never are again.”

Chishiya hummed. “So you think Niragi’s a victim?”

You gave a small shrug. “I think there’s something there.” you admitted. “Something that made him the way he is.”

“And me?”

The question wasn’t playful. It wasn’t sarcastic. It was curious.

You tilted your head slightly, giving him a small smile. “You already know what I think about you.”

His lips curled, just slightly.

He didn’t argue.

Because he did know.

He knew you saw through him.

He knew you saw the walls, the detachment, the way he kept himself above everything.

Now, he knew that you didn’t just see it.

You understood it.

He didn’t hate that.

You were tired. Your body ached, your mind weighed down from the long hours of waiting, of worrying—though you wouldn’t admit the latter out loud.

But you stayed.

And so did he.

Chishiya hadn’t gotten up, hadn’t made any move to retreat to his room, even though he had no reason to be here. He wasn’t waiting for Niragi. He wasn’t the type to wait for anyone.

But he was entertained by you.

And maybe—just maybe—he stayed because, in his mind, it was fair.

You had waited for him once, too.

You shifted slightly, pulling your legs up onto the couch, hugging them to your chest. Chishiya remained as he was, his arms resting lazily against the couch, gaze half-lidded.

The silence stretched on.

Until the front door creaked open.

You straightened instantly, exhaustion forgotten. Chishiya simply flicked his eyes toward the door, unimpressed.

And there he was.

Niragi.

He stepped inside, his clothes dirtied but intact, and his face—his face was fine. No blood. No bruises. No sign that anything had gone wrong.

You exhaled.

“Oh.” you breathed, a smile forming. “You’re back.”

Niragi smirked. “Obviously.”

You stood up, stepping toward him, your expression warm. “How was it?” you asked, voice gentle, like you hadn’t just spent hours waiting in quiet anxiety. “Everything go okay?”

Niragi clicked his tongue, stepping further inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Easy.” he said.

“Good.” You nodded, your shoulders loosening. “Come sit.”

He raised a brow. “Bossing me around now?”

You rolled your eyes, but it was light, affectionate. “Sit.” you repeated, softer this time.

And he did.

Not because you told him to. Not because he had to.

But because he wanted to.

And the moment he sat down, you—god, you were an angel. You were all over him, leaning in, your gaze scanning him for any sign of injury, your hands hovering like you wanted to reach out but were waiting for some unspoken permission.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked.

He ate it up.

Every bit of it.

The way your voice softened, the way you cared, the way your whole attention was on him.

Fuck, he loved it.

He leaned back into the couch, stretching his arms over the back, grinning.

“I told you.” he said, all smug. “Easy.”

You gave him a look. The kind that said you weren’t entirely convinced, but you weren’t about to push.

“Good job.” you murmured, and it sounded so genuine that Niragi nearly laughed.

“Good job?” he repeated, amusement in his tone. “What am I, a dog?”

You tilted your head. “I mean… do you want a treat?”

Chishiya snorted. Niragi shot him a glare.

You smiled, shaking your head.

“Well,” you said, placing a hand lightly on his arm, warm. “I’m glad you’re back.”

And Niragi—oh, he was swimming in it.

In you.

The way you touched him—not like he was dangerous, not like you were scared, not like he was some rabid animal. No.

You touched him like he was human.

And maybe that was why he let you do it this time.

Because you were the only person who ever had.

And maybe—just maybe—he didn’t mind that.

Niragi shifted, leaning back into the couch with a slow exhale, his body stretching out like a lazy cat, but—oh. He winced. There was the flicker of his eyelids, the barely-there grimace, just enough to be noticeable.

And of course—of course—you noticed.

You were too good, too caring, too fucking soft to miss something like that.

“Niragi?” Your voice came gentle, your brows furrowing just slightly as you tilted your head.

He hummed, like he barely heard you, like he was too busy dealing with the oh-so-terrible pain.

“You okay?”

And just like that, his plan was already working.

He sighed, rolling his shoulders, wincing again, deepening it this time, his smirk barely hidden.

“Dunno.” he muttered. “Think I might’ve overdone it.”

You immediately leaned in, concern flashing across your features.

“What? Where?” Your hands hovered, just inches from him, unsure where he hurt.

Niragi almost grinned, but he kept it just right. Just subtle enough to sell it.

“Shoulder.” he said, rolling it again, letting another small wince slip out. “Think I pulled somethin’.”

And there you were. Your brows knit together, your lips pressing into a small frown as you actually worried. “Do you want me to look at it?”

Oh, fuck. He could have fun with this.

He let a low hum rumble in his throat, acting like he was debating it, like he wasn’t just thriving off your attention.

“I mean…” He let his head tip back against the couch, turning to you with a lopsided grin, eyes lazy, voice deepening, taking his time. “If you insist, babe.”

Chishiya, from the other end of the couch, snorted.

Niragi ignored him.

You didn’t. Your gaze flickered toward Chishiya, as if realizing something, but then back to Niragi, your fingers already lightly touching his arm.

God, you were so fucking easy.

You pressed gently against his shoulder, frowning in concentration. “Here?”

He hummed again, lower this time, just enough to make it something else.

Your fingers twitched.

Oh, you caught that. You weren’t dumb, not at all, and Niragi knew it—but that’s what made this so fucking fun.

He watched you, the way you hesitated, the way you thought about it, the way you realized exactly what he was doing.

And still—you kept touching him.

Fucking perfect.

Chishiya exhaled through his nose, arms crossed, watching. He leaned back, shaking his head slightly. “Pathetic.”

Niragi shot him a lazy smirk. “Jealous?”

Chishiya barely reacted, but that was the fun of it.

He just knew. He saw Niragi’s game the moment he stepped through the door, saw the exact angle, the exact play—all of it. And he also knew why.

Niragi was a fucking sadist, yeah. But that wasn’t the only reason.

Oh, no.

Because if Niragi was really just fucking with you, if it was really just some sick joke to get you flustered, he wouldn’t be leaning into your warmth like that.

He wouldn’t be letting you touch him this long.

He wouldn’t be drinking it in like a dying man crawling toward water.

Chishiya’s eyes flicked to you. Did you know that?

Did you realize that Niragi was so fucking love starved, so touch deprived, so fucking desperate for even an ounce of warmth that he had to manipulate his way into getting it?

Probably.

You probably knew.

And you were still giving it to him.

Fucking idiot.

But then again, Chishiya supposed—so was he.

Because he was still sitting here, too.

You stood up, rolling your shoulders as you stretched slightly. “I’ll make food.” you said, already heading toward the kitchen.

Neither of them answered. Of course. Fucking brats.

“You look like shit.” Niragi turned to Chishiya, slouching deeper into the couch, arms spreading out.

Chishiya, who had been completely unbothered until then, slowly turned his head. “And yet, I look better than you.”

Niragi’s smirk twitched, but he kept it, baring his teeth slightly. “You always talk like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you got a whole fucking dictionary shoved up your ass.”

Chishiya blinked once. Slowly. “Strange. I thought you’d like that sort of thing.”

Your soft laughnearly startled them. They both looked toward the kitchen, watching as you, still prepping food.

Niragi barely hesitated before turning back to Chishiya.

“Trying to flirt with me, doc?” His voice dripped with amusement, his grin widening. “I get it. I’m irresistible.”

Chishiya’s face remained perfectly neutral, as if he were speaking about the weather. “I’d rather throw myself off the roof.”

“Oh, c’mon.” Niragi grinned wider, leaning in slightly. “I bet you—”

“Shut up.”

It was said with so little effort. So flat. So completely uninterested that Niragi actually stopped mid-sentence.

You heard the silence from the kitchen and had to bite back a laugh.

Niragi? Silenced?

That was fucking rare.

But of course, only for a second.

“You’re a real dick, y’know that?”

Chishiya turned away, completely ignoring him now.

Niragi hated that.

You, meanwhile, were enjoying every second of it.

“You two should start a podcast.” you commented, voice way too sweet as you focused on cooking. “So much chemistry.”

Chishiya just sighed.

Niragi threw his head back in laughter. Loud. Sharp. “Shit, baby, you’re funny.”

You smiled to yourself. “I know.”

Chishiya did not smile.

He simply existed, in pure, eternal suffering.

With both plates in hand, you made your way toward them. Niragi stretched out his legs, watching you, while Chishiya remained as he was—arms draped over the back of the couch, relaxed, but his gaze following you like he was analyzing every move you made.

You set Niragi’s plate down first.

“There you go.” you murmured, voice sickeningly sweet as you gently placed it in front of him. “Eat up, bad boy.”

“Ooh, you wanna feed me, too, baby?”

You patted his head.

Like a fucking dog.

So fast that Niragi barely had time to react before you were already stepping past him, placing Chishiya’s plate down as well.

“And for you.” Your voice was just as sweet, gentle, as if the two men before you weren’t literally some of the most dangerous people in this entire city.

Chishiya simply blinked up at you, unreadable as always, but he noticed it.

Something off.

Something in the way you walked.

At first, he wasn’t even sure what it was, but as you stepped away, heading back toward the kitchen, his eyes narrowed slightly.

The way your weight shifted just a little bit wrong. How your steps weren’t as smooth as usual.

It was subtle.

So subtle that even you didn’t seem to notice.

Chishiya knew you by now. You were too perceptive, too aware of yourself, of others. For you to not notice meant that either you were ignoring it or too distracted to care.

Too busy drowning these two absolute nightmares in affection to pay attention to yourself.

His eyes flicked toward your leg, then to your back, then back—analyzing, calculating, breaking it down piece by piece.

Something hurt.

Small, but definitely there.

Chishiya tilted his head slightly.

Hm.

You hummed softly to yourself as you moved around the kitchen, tidying things up, like this house wasn’t occupied by two of the worst people to ever walk the earth. Plates stacked neatly, crumbs wiped away, the soft clinking of dishes filling the air while they ate.

Or at least, Niragi did. Chishiya ate slow. Niragi, on the other hand, ate like he hadn’t had a meal in weeks, shoveling food into his mouth without shame.

You finished wiping down the counter, then stepped around the couch, moving behind them.

“Are you two okay?” Your voice was light, gentle, full of something neither of them deserved.

Chishiya didn’t answer. He simply let his head tip back over the couch, glancing at you upside down. He looked painfully cute doing that. Niragi barely lifted his head, only letting out a hum that could’ve meant anything.

“Good.” you murmured. “Good night.”

You walked away, disappearing down the hall, your door closing behind you.

And Chishiya blinked.

You didn’t eat.

Not one bite.

Not while cooking, not after, not even while cleaning up.

His eyes flicked toward Niragi.

And the pieces clicked together.

Niragi, who had devoured the attention you gave him. Niragi, who made a show of being in pain, drawing you in, demanding your focus, stealing your warmth just because he could.

Chishiya knew people. And Niragi was so easy to read it was almost funny.

Every single touch. Every soft-spoken word. Niragi ate it all up like a starved animal.

He might as well have been sitting there wagging his tail.

Chishiya watched him, tearing apart the situation piece by piece in his head, breaking down the sheer fucking need in Niragi’s body language.

And finally, Niragi noticed.

His chewing slowed. He turned his head, eyes narrowing slightly.

“The fuck are you looking at?”

Chishiya barely lifted a shoulder.

“You.”

“Getting jealous? Don’t worry, she can touch you too, you just gotta cry for it a little.”

Chishiya only raised his hands.

Your body ached the next morning. Not in the usual way. This was something deeper, sharper—a dull, throbbing pain along your side that had you wincing the second you stretched your arms.

You inhaled slowly, trying to push past it as you moved around the kitchen. You’d dealt with worse. You’d gotten through worse. This? This was fine. You were fine.

The sound of footsteps reached your ears before you saw him. Niragi.

You didn’t even have to look. His walk was loud, uneven, slightly off-balance—but still full of arrogance. You knew he had to be hurting, but he carried himself like he wasn’t.

You understood that. You did the same.

He stopped next to you at the counter, peering over at what you were doing. You could feel his presence before anything else—his heat, his height, the way he took up space without even trying.

“You’re up early.” you said, glancing at him.

He didn’t answer, but he sstayed next to you, close. Close enough that his arm brushed yours when you moved, close enough that when he leaned in—pretending to check what you were making—you could feel the warmth of his breath near your neck. He bumped your shoulder, even. An accident. Maybe.

You glanced at him again, raising an eyebrow.

He didn’t even look at you, just continued watching your hands, close enough now that you could feel his body heat.

Something about it made you smile.

Niragi was shameless. The way his gaze dropped to your tits as you leaned forward slightly, the way he lingered at your side, subtly drinking in your warmth like he didn’t know how to ask for it.

And maybe he didn’t.

You just let him.

After all, you liked company. And you liked him.

“If I told you to wake Chishiya up, you’d say no, wouldn’t you?” You asked him.

He let out a low hum, tilting his head slightly. “Obviously.”

“Of course.”

Not that it mattered. Because Chishiya was already awake. You heard his footsteps before you saw him.

“Good morning.” you greeted, your voice gentle, warm. You smiled at him, not expecting a response but offering it anyway.

Chishiya didn’t react at first, only letting his gaze flick between you and Niragi.

Ah.

He noticed.

He saw the way Niragi was standing too close, his shoulder brushing yours, his body subtly angled toward you like he was drawn in without realizing it.

And he understood it immediately.

A dog. Niragi was a fucking dog. One that had been kept on a chain for too long, starved of any real affection, biting at anyone who got too close—until someone finally offered him something.

But a dog that had been kicked too many times wouldn’t trust its owner, would it?

No, Niragi didn’t trust you. Not really.

He trusted the fact that you were harmless.

That he could use you without consequence. That you’d let him.

Chishiya could see it so clearly, the way Niragi ate up your attention, the way he leaned into you like he wanted more, testing how much you’d allow.

Pathetic. So predictable.

But then again—if Niragi was a dog, Chishiya was a cat.

Distant. Observing. Keeping his claws hidden until necessary.

And while he didn’t give a shit about you, he cared about being right.

And he was. Again.

Because as he watched you, he saw the subtle shift in your body, the barely-there wince when you moved a certain way, the slight favoring of one side over the other.

You were hurt.

You turned back to the counter, continuing to make breakfast like nothing was out of place, like you hadn’t spent last night holding your side in silence. Like you weren’t hurt at all. Because maybe, if you ignored it, it would go away.

You were always like that, weren’t you? Pushing forward, brushing off your own pain like it didn’t matter. Because there were people to take care of.

Because you were an angel, and they didn’t appreciate you enough.

Niragi was still standing close, watching over your shoulder as you worked, occasionally bumping against you like he wasn’t doing it on purpose. He absolutely was.

His shoulder hit yours again, a slow, lazy nudge that made you glance up at him. You raised an eyebrow, but your voice was nothing but light. “Are you gonna help, or are you just here to make my job harder?”

“I think you like it.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “You’re annoying.”

“And you’re a fucking idiot.” he replied, watching the way your hands moved, how carefully you handled everything—like you actually gave a shit about doing things right.

Chishiya was still quiet, watching.

You were too sweet to Niragi. He had already figured that much out, but seeing it like this, watching the way you let him get away with so much, was interesting.

It wasn’t because you were stupid. No, you were too smart for that.

It was because you chose to be kind.

And that was something Chishiya would never understand.

Why?

Why did you care so much?

What did you think you were going to change?

You set the plates down in front of them, soft words, gentle hands, just giving and giving and giving, and neither of them deserved it.

Not even a little.

Chishiya watched the way Niragi ate it up, the smug little glances he shot you when you leaned too close, the way he kept testing how much you’d let him take.

And you just let him.

Maybe you liked it, too.

Chishiya could see how you softened around people. It didn’t matter if they deserved it, you still did it.

And something about that annoyed him.

Because it wasn’t sustainable.

At some point, you’d run out.

And then what?

Chishiya ate slowly, watching the way you moved. The way you held yourself. It wasn’t obvious. You were good at hiding it. But he was better at seeing it.

Your side hurt.

He noticed the way you favored it, how your body instinctively protected itself—shifting slightly when you leaned, never putting too much pressure on one side. You never let yourself stiffen completely, but he could see the small moments, the subtle corrections. You weren’t paying attention to yourself, but he was.

Because he was always five steps ahead.

And you were going to come to him eventually, weren’t you?

You had to.

Because you weren’t stupid. You weren’t dumb enough to think you could hide it forever. At some point, you’d need him. You’d realize he already knew, and you’d sit down next to him and ask.

“What’s wrong with me?”

And he would tell you.

Because you deserved that.

You weren’t like Niragi. You weren’t some rabid fucking dog who couldn’t control himself, biting at anything that got too close. You weren’t a slave to your emotions, ruled by instinct and nothing else.

You were logical. You thought about things.

And you would think about this.

The question was how long would it take?How long before you realized?

He dragged his spoon through his food, twirling it idly, watching the way Niragi leaned into your space, so fucking obvious it was painful.

What a joke.

Like a dog getting scraps for the first time, like he didn’t even know what to do with it.

You were indulging him.

Why?

Why did you do this?

Why did you let him eat it up like that?

Like he was starved for it.

Like he was owed it.

He wasn’t. Neither of them were.

And yet you still gave.

And gave.

Chishiya tilted his head slightly, tapping his spoon against his plate.

You’d run out eventually. That’s just how things worked. At some point, you would have nothing left to give. And then what?

Would you break?

Would you snap?

Or would you just fade?

He thought about that, about all the different possibilities.

You were more interesting than he expected.

A different kind of game.

And he always liked to win.

You absolutely didn’t come to him for help.

No, of course not. That would be too easy. Too logical. Too expected.

Instead, here you were. Sitting on the couch, fidgeting with something small between your fingers, taking it apart piece by piece.

Chishiya stilled in the doorway, eyeing you for a moment before stepping into the room.

No Niragi.

Finally.

He walked over, dropping onto the couch next to you without a word. His presence didn’t seem to startle you—you didn’t even look up, just continued working on whatever you were dismantling.

It was quiet for a few moments.

Then, like always, you started talking. “Hey, you finally got bored of your room, huh?”

He didn’t answer, just rested his elbow on the arm of the couch, head tipping lazily against his knuckles. He watched the way your fingers worked, turning the tiny object over, pulling at different parts. You weren’t just fidgeting, you were actually picking it apart.

“What’s this?” he asked.

You glanced at him, then back down. “I don’t know.”

“Then why are you taking it apart?”

You shrugged. “Why not?”

He didn’t have a response to that. Not because it was a good answer, but because it was just… so you.

You always had to be doing something. Always had to be moving, like a shark that couldn’t sit still or it would die.

It was strange.

You were the calmest person in this room at any given time, and yet you never fucking stopped.

Maybe that’s why Niragi liked you.

Chishiya watched your fingers work for another moment before speaking again. “Where’s the dog?”

You huffed a small laugh at that, but didn’t look up. “Taking a nap, probably. I don’t know, I didn’t ask.”

He hummed. Good.

That meant he could have this conversation without the extra noise.

Not that this was really a conversation. It was mostly just you talking.

And talking.

You asked him things. Small things.

What he’d been doing all day.

“Nothing.”

If he was feeling okay.

“Fine.”

If he was bored yet.

“Not really.”

Your lips twitched slightly, like you wanted to tease him for the short answers, but you didn’t. You just kept going. Talking about whatever came to mind. The apartment. How you’d love to decorate it if you could.

“Pink.” you had said with so much certainty.

He had snorted at that. Pink.

“Not, like, a lot.” you had clarified. “Just a little.”

It didn’t matter, he had told you, because this wasn’t a home. But that didn’t seem to phase you.

You just kept going.

Talking, talking, talking.

Like you didn’t even notice how his gaze kept flicking to the way you moved. The way you leaned. The way your body naturally protected itself.

Your side hurt.

He knew it.

But you didn’t say it.

So he did.

“Your side hurts.”

Your fingers paused on the small device, body going unnaturally still. Then, just as quickly, you were moving again, brushing it off. “No, it doesn’t.”

He exhaled through his nose, tilting his head slightly. You were not a good liar. That much, he already knew.

“You’re protecting it.” His voice was flat. No emotion. No concern. Just observation. “The way you lean, the way you sit, the way you move. You haven’t even noticed it yourself, have you?”

You sighed, fingers tightening around the object in your hands before you set it down on the table.

He was right. Again.

Chishiya watched as you chewed your lip, like you were debating whether or not to keep pretending.

“Even if it does, it’s not that bad.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Let me look at it.”

Your head snapped toward him, blinking once. “What?”

“Let me look at it.”

Now you were staring at him, brows furrowing. “…Why?”

He shrugged. “Because I can.”

That wasn’t a real answer.

But you weren’t dumb.

He could see the thoughts turning behind your eyes, could practically hear your brain piecing together the facts.

That he was a doctor.

That he knew what he was talking about.

And, most importantly, that if not for you, he might’ve been left to rot on that street.

And Chishiya wasn’t the type to owe people favors.

But this? This was fair.

He saw the moment you realized it too. Your shoulders dropped, and you exhaled slowly, looking off toward the wall.

“Fine.”

Finally.

Without another word, Chishiya sat up properly, gesturing for you to shift toward him. You hesitated, then turned slightly, letting him face your injured side.

“Lift your shirt.” he said simply.

You shot him a look.

He stared back. Unamused.

With a sigh, you reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it up just enough to expose the skin of your ribs.

And there it was. The light bruising. The subtle swelling. Nothing serious. But it was there.

Chishiya pressed his fingers against the side of your ribs, watching the way your body reacted. Your muscles tensed, a small, involuntary twitch pulling through your stomach.

“Tell me when it hurts.” he murmured.

You nodded.

He started at the lowest ribs, pressing lightly, testing the reaction.

Nothing.

He moved higher, fingers working with precision.

Still nothing.

It wasn’t until he pressed closer to your side, near the center of the bruising, that he saw you flinch. Barely. But he caught it.

“Here?”

You hesitated. Then nodded.

He pressed a little firmer, feeling for any deeper injuries, any unnatural movement under the skin. Your breath hitched, and his eyes flicked up toward your face.

Still, you didn’t pull away.

Tough little thing.

He almost smirked.

“It’s not bad.” he told you, pulling his hands away. “No breaks. Probably just a deep bruise. Soft tissue injury. It’ll heal.”

You sighed, dropping your shirt back down.

“Told you.”

Chishiya sat back, watching as you flexed your fingers against your knee, still not looking at him.

This whole thing had been weird.

You let him check you over, eventually. But not because you wanted to.

Because you knew it was fair.

And maybe that was why Chishiya had let you take him in that night, too.

Not because he wanted to.

Because it was fair.

You pulled your shirt back down and exhaled, rolling your shoulders slightly, testing the soreness. Then, softly—so softly you almost didn’t say it—“…Thanks.”

Chishiya tilted his head slightly, watching you. “You don’t have to thank me.”

Your lips pulled into a small, lopsided smile as you leaned back against the couch, crossing your arms over your stomach. “Yeah, I do.”

He studied you for a moment longer before shifting back as well, resting one arm along the back of the couch, fingers tapping lightly against the fabric.

“You hate being taken care of, don’t you?” he murmured.

Your eyebrows raised slightly at the observation, and you let out a small huff. “Says the guy who nearly bled out on the street because he’s too good at mind games to ask for help.”

“You’re right.” he said simply. “I don’t like it either.”

You smiled, though it was more tired than anything. “We have that in common, then.”

He hummed, noncommittal.

You both sat there in silence for a moment, processing in your own separate little worlds, the way you often did.

“…I didn’t even notice it hurt.” you said. “Not really. I guess I was just too busy making sure you and Niragi were okay.”

Chishiya gave you a look.

Not mean. Not mocking.

But something close.

“You do that too much.”

You huffed out another soft laugh. “What, care?”

“Yes.”

You turned your head toward him, arching an eyebrow. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He tilted his head, considering.

Was it?

To him, it was.

To you, it wasn’t.

And that’s what made this so interesting.

“It’s an exhausting thing.”

You sighed. “Yeah, well. Someone’s gotta do it.”

Chishiya leaned his head against the couch, still watching you. Studying you.

And you let him.

“You don’t think it’s exhausting?” he asked.

You blinked at him. Then you gave him a look. “I never said that.”

Chishiya’s lips pulled into something a little too knowing.

Because there it was.

That crack.

That moment of honesty. The one that told him that despite all your softness, despite all your warmth, despite everything that made you so different from him—you were tired.

But he already knew that, didn’t he?

Because you had a habit of pouring yourself out for people who didn’t give anything back.

And that was something Chishiya would never let himself do. And maybe…that was why he found you so exhausting, too.

You were humming softly, standing by the stove, focused.

Dinner was already planned.

You figured if they didn’t come on their own, you’d go knock on their doors—Niragi first, because he’d act like a brat about it, but he’d come. Chishiya after, because he’d hesitate, but you’d convince him.

You were already plating the food in your head. A little more on Chishiya’s plate. He deserved it after checking you out earlier, even if he acted like it was nothing. He was a good doctor, and you owed him.

The front door opened.

You froze.

You turned, and it was Chishiya. Coming back, from somewhere. What?

Your fingers twitched on the edge of the counter. “…Where were you?”

He glanced up at you as he shut the door, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I had to play.”

Oh.

Your shoulders stiffened before you could stop them.

You hadn’t even realized he’d left.

When did he leave? How long ago?

Your eyes scanned him. He looked… fine. There was no blood. No limp. No obvious injury.

Still.

“…You should’ve told me.”

Chishiya blinked. His head tilted slightly, almost as if he didn’t understand why you were saying that.

“It’s nothing.” you murmured, turning back to the stove, stirring the food. “I just… got scared for a second. That you left, or something.”

That made him pause. Not because he felt bad, but because it was interesting.

Why would you assume that?

He never gave you any reason to think he’d just leave.

And yet, the fact that you thought it—the fact that you were scared of it—that told him something about you.

“…I had no reason to tell you.”

You nodded.

Yeah.

You knew that.

You knew he didn’t owe you anything.

But you cared.

And he didn’t.

And maybe that’s why you were standing here, stirring food for them, thinking about their plates, making sure they ate, while Chishiya was standing by the door, looking at you like you were some strange creature.

“You get attached too easily.” His voice was flat. Matter-of-fact. Cold in a way that wasn’t intended to be cruel—it was just true.

Your hand slowed over the food, breath catching for just a second.

That was…

Well.

That was a thing to say.

You swallowed, staring down at the pan, feeling his eyes on you.

The worst part was that he wasn’t wrong.

You did get attached easily.

You let people in too quickly, gave them warmth even when they didn’t deserve it—even when they didn’t want it.

And here you were, worried about him, cooking for him, watching the door like a puppy because you didn’t even notice he was gone.

Maybe he had a point.

But that didn’t mean you had to like it.

You turned to him, leaning against the counter, arms crossed.

“Then why do you stay?”

Chishiya’s expression didn’t change, but you saw it—the way his fingers flexed in his pockets, the faintest twitch of his jaw.

He didn’t expect you to ask that.

Niragi had a reason to stay. He was healing, recovering from the absolute beating he took. He was too injured to play yet, too injured to run, and deep down—you knew he liked it here.

But Chishiya?

Chishiya looked fine.

If he had any injuries, he was good at hiding them.

So if he really didn’t care, if none of this mattered to him—why was he still here?

“…Because it’s entertaining.”

Your breath left you slowly.

Of course.

Of course that’s what he’d say.

Because what else would he say?

That he felt intertwined to you for dragging his half-dead body out of the street? No. That would imply he felt something like gratitude.

That he felt bad for you, after the way you came home covered in blood? No. That would mean he felt something like guilt.

That he actually liked it here? That he liked you?

No.

That would make him human.

So instead, he stayed because it was entertaining.

That was easier. That was the kind of answer Chishiya gave.

You exhaled, pressing your lips together, nodding slowly.

Right.

You turned back to the food.

“You should wash up.” you murmured. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

And just like that, the conversation was over.

Like a breath that hadn’t been exhaled yet.

Like something was still left unsaid.

Chishiya watched you for a few moments longer, lingering in the doorway.

BANG.

A door down the hall swung open so violently that it rattled the walls.

“Louder, please.” Niragi’s voice. Flat. Dry. Sarcastic as fuck.

You sighed, closing your eyes briefly before opening them again, watching Niragi step into view.

He was shirtless, looking wrecked. Like he had just woken up—probably hadn’t meant to in the first place, but his ears were too sensitive for Chishiya’s bullshit.

His hair was a mess, face still lined from his pillow, a half-lidded glare pointed in both of your directions.

The moment he locked onto Chishiya, his expression darkened further.

Like he knew.

He didn’t know what exactly—he wasn’t there. But he knew something had just happened, something between you two, something he was left out of.

And fuck that.

Niragi was already on edge. He always had been.

He couldn’t stand Chishiya. Not just because he was an arrogant, smug bastard who thought he was above everyone—but because he was.

He was smarter. Five steps ahead. Always in control.

And Niragi hated that.

Hated that Chishiya was cold while he was burning alive.

Hated that Chishiya could switch it all off while Niragi felt too much.

Hated that you—you—spoke to him like he was a person.

Like he was worth it.

Like he was more than what he had become.

And Chishiya didn’t deserve that.

So yeah. He woke up to this bullshit and wasn’t happy about it.

Niragi groaned, raking a hand through his hair, rolling his eyes before turning back around, dragging himself down the hall.

SLAM.

You blinked.

Chishiya barely reacted.

You let out a slow breath, glancing over at him, but he wasn’t looking at you anymore.

He had already figured it out.

How Niragi felt everything too much. How it swallowed him alive. How you, somehow, had become a lifeline. How he clung to you like a starving animal.

How dangerous that was.

But Chishiya didn’t tell you.

Because he knew, one way or another… you’d figure it out.

❤︎︎ @fiction-fantasy-folks @monkey4lifer @cherryheairt @psychicyouthfox @so-dramatic1 @mypsychoticlove @unhinged-sorcerer @rattymess @lizntstoptalking @hellscagee

#alice in borderland #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland #aib chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #niragi suguru #aib niragi #niragi x reader

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cravinganotherworld · 3 months ago

Text

Amorous - Squid games Frontman x Fem! Reader (series)

See the other chapters below:

Chapter 2 Part 1

Chapter 2, Part 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

You enter the games to save your grandfather but it is nothing like you imagined yet something is keeping you there. Is it purely to save your grandfather or is it something more?

WARNINGS: Death, shooting, guns, anxiety

NOTES: Each game will be a new chapter, if you haven't seen squid games or do not want any spoilers for season 2 episode 3 Don't read. This will be a romantic pairing with the Frontman because i truly am a simp :))), Apart from that I hope you enjoy!:)

You stood still in your tracks, the sounds of gun shots firing to the left and right of you making you freeze. Out of the corner of your eye you see bodies fall to the ground and ear-piercing screams fill the air. Dozens of players began to run towards you trying to escape, your heart beating fast as all you can think of in this moment is if they push me…I’m dead. As the crowd rushes past you, you feel many trip over your feet but you stand there motionless, for moving will cost you something much greater than your pride. Soon enough the shots stopped and the doll turned back around shouting ‘Green light’, nobody moved and the doll turned back around on ‘red light’. On the next ‘Green light’ player 456 ran to the front.

“If you don’t cross the line before the time runs out they will still kill you, they cannot detect you if you are behind something” you heart beat quickened. “Time is running out, go on the next Green light!” He shouts. The doll turns around and shouts ‘Green light’, your legs move as fast as they’ll carry you and soon enough you had crossed the line observing as others too either crossed the line or failed. Never before had you seen someone get shot, never before had you ben in the same room as death. Your body began to shake as you walk across to the wall, sliding down it and placing your head on your knees. Suddenly you feel a hand on your shoulder and look up to see player 456 looking down at you.

“Are you alright?” he became blurry as tears welled up in your eyes but you nodded your head with a small smile. He returned your smile and walked away comforting the next person. As the game ended the guards in pink suits guide you all back to the dormitory. Nobody spoke as you all shuffled over to your beds your minds now smeared with the memory of the previous game and the silence more deafening than anything. Soon enough more pink guards returned, revealing the outcome of the first game and the money accumulated. Before they could however multiple players deemed it wise to argue.

“If the majority of us agree to leave then the games will be terminated, is that correct?” Player 456 shouted, there is a moment of silence.

“Clause 3 of the agreement – if the majority vote to leave then the games will be terminated and the accumulated prize money divided equally between players” The pink guard replied. “At the end of each game there will be a vote, you can have your say if you want to leave or stay” Behind him you see two more guards wheel in a table with an X and O on. “You will place your vote at this table and then stand on the aide you have chosen, you will also get a badge with either an X or O depending on your choice” You take a deep breath, surely everyone must want to go. “If you decide to continue the games the full amount to be won will be 45.6 billion Won, if you leave now each player will get 24,931,500 million Won” Shouts of outrage come from a few players in the group before they died down. “With that let the voting commence, we will begin with player 456”

You watch as player 456 walks up to the podium and confidently presses ‘X’. A small smile comes to your lips happy about the possibility of leaving this place. Slowly the numbers go down until it reaches you.

“Player 394” Your number is called and you slowly make your way to the podium pulling down the sleeves of your jacket nervously. As you stand there looking at both options your mind begins to race. If you stay you could win so much more and pay for your grandfathers treatment, but if you leave you are sentencing him to death. Without thinking your hand presses ‘O’ causing the ‘O’ team to cheer. As you walk towards the blue side you look up and are met with player 456’s confused eyes. You quickly turn away and watch the rest of the vote unravel. Soon enough the last player was called.

“Player 001” You watched as he confidently strides towards the podium, his hand hovering over the ‘X’ before quickly pressing the ‘O’. A breath of relief washes over you and you knew that you now had to fight for your life. You stand still in your place watching the guards take the podium away whilst everyone else dispersed, thinking about what other games there could be to play.

“Lights out will be in 30 minutes, please prepare for lights out” You hear as you suddenly realize you are the only player left in the middle of the room. Your face turns red as you look down and quickly shuffle over to your bed, unaware of the glances shot in your direction by a certain player. You settle into bed, laying on your back staring at the bunk above you with thoughts of the previous game falling into your mind. Tightly you closed your eyes doing anything you can to shake the images of your teammates bodies scattered on the floor but to no avail. You sit up and bring your knees to your chest as the lights dimmed. You sighed and prepared for the longest night of your life.

#frontman x reader #hwang inho #inho x reader #squid game x reader #squid game front man

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fatecantstopme · 1 year ago

Text

My Past, My Present, My Future

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader, Endverse!Dean x reader

Summary: You get dragged to the future along with Dean to witness the aftermath of the apocalypse. Follows the plot of "The End" (Season 4, Episode 4)

Warnings: mentions of death, canon violence, cursing, use of pet names. SMUT, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V), dirty talk.

A/N: If I tell you too much, it'll ruin the story...enjoy!

It had been 2009 when you and Dean had fallen asleep in a hotel in Kansas City. You were awoken by the sound of your boyfriend's voice muttering "What the hell?"

You opened your eyes to find yourself in a completely trashed room--it looked like an actual bomb had gone off. It took you a moment to realize it was the same room you'd fallen asleep in.

"Dean?" you asked in confusion.

He was staring out the window, so you joined him, the two of you now staring out a what remained of the city.

"What happened?" you whispered.

"I have no idea." He looked back at you, worry etched into his face. "We should get moving. See if we can find anyone else."

As the two of you walked through the city streets, you found yourselves completely alone--that is, until you came across a little girl crouched in an alleyway all alone.

As the little girl attacked Dean, you saw the word "Croatoan" painted on a brick wall. Dean defended himself, knocking the girl unconscious.

You simply pointed to the word, a look of dread on your face. Dean's gaze followed your finger and the same expression crossed his features.

"Shit," he muttered.

Suddenly, a group of infected people rounded the corner and spotted the two of you. You both took off running, desperate to avoid becoming their next meal.

"Dead end!" you yelled at Dean, but neither of you had time to figure out your next move. The infected people are still behind you when a heavily armed military unit opened fire on the group.

The commotion gave you and Dean the time you needed to escape. The two of you stayed hidden until nightfall. When you emerged, you noticed a sign on the fence surrounding the entrance to the city.

"Dean," you said softly, pointing to the sign. "Croatoan Hot Zone."

He stepped forward to get a better look. "August 1st, 2014? How...?"

"Great," you muttered. "So we're in the future."

"Apparently...and it ain't pretty."

You shared a look and muttered "Angels," in unison.

You managed to find an abandoned car that still had gas, so Dean hot-wired it and the two of you sped off. You were desperately trying to find a cell signal or even a radio signal when Zachariah made an appearance in the backseat of the car.

"I thought I smelled your stink on this Back to the Future crap," Dean growled.

In response, Zachariah simply began to read a Newspaper he'd brought with him. The headlines were dark, detailing some of the terrible events that had occurred in this morbid future.

"How the hell did you find us?" Dean asked in annoyance.

"Human informants from some of the fringier religious groups," Zachariah answered.

"That guy on the street last night," you said to Dean, who nodded.

"Send us back. Now," Dean demanded.

"No can do. The two of you are staying put in 2014 for a few days so you can see exactly what happens to the world if Dean continues to say no to Michael."

"You're an ass," you muttered.

Dean smirked a little. "As much as I love having (Y/N/N) as my copilot, why'd you have to drag her into this?"

"Don't worry, she'll be fine," Zachariah said with a wave of his hand. "She's here because she might be the only person who can convince you to do the right thing. She needs to see just how bad it gets almost as much as you need to."

Before either you or Dean could respond, Zachariah disappeared, zapping himself back to wherever the hell he hung out.

"Have I mentioned how much I hate angels?" you mumbled under your breath.

Dean simply nodded. "Me too, sweetheart."

"Where we headed?"

"Bobby's."

You kept your thoughts to yourself. Dean didn't need you to tell him it was unlikely Bobby had survived this, especially being wheelchair-bound. He wasn't a fool, but you knew it was better to let him have just a little bit of hope.

**********

As expected, Bobby's house was empty, save for his wheelchair and an absolute mess of junk. Dean was silent as he surveyed the room, putting the wheelchair back upright with a sad sigh.

He went to the mantel behind Bobby's desk and pried it open, pulling out Bobby's old journal. In it, he found a picture of several men with shotguns posing in front of a sign for Camp Chitaqua, Bobby and Cas among them.

He held the picture up for you to see and you exhaled softly. "Road trip?"

He nodded and the two of you headed for the camp. You managed to sneak past the guards, but as you were making your way farther into the camp, Dean grabbed your arm.

You followed his gaze and realized his once-beautiful Impala was parked off to the side completely junked out.

"Oh not you too, Baby," he whispered as he leaned forward to inspect the car.

You would have laughed if you hadn't been staring down the barrel of your own future.

"Dean--" the rest of your sentence was silenced as you fell to the ground, knocked unconscious by someone behind you.

The man was fast enough that both you and Dean were unconscious without a single sound.

When your eyes fluttered open some time later, you found yourself seated in a wooden chair, wrists gently bound to the arms. You saw Dean sitting on the floor a few feet away from you, arms cuffed to a ladder bolted to the floor. He wasn't moving and you whispered his name in worry.

"So you're awake." Had you not been staring at Dean when you heard the voice, you would have been certain it had been him talking.

You looked around, jaw dropping as Dean stepped out from his place against the wall behind you. It was Dean, but it wasn't your Dean. His face looked a little more haggard and the light in his eyes was dimmed almost to extinction.

"Who--how--?" you tried to ask.

"I could ask you the same question."

You looked back over at Dean's unconscious form and the other Dean sighed.

"He'll be fine...as long as you answer some questions. I know neither of you are some kind of supernatural creature--trust me, I tried all the tests. But he carries every weapon on him that I do and well--there's a striking resemblance." He trailed off for a moment. "Then there's you...any chance you can explain why you look like my dead wife's identical twin?"

You were saved from responding by the sounds of your Dean stirring. "What the hell?" he muttered as he realized he was cuffed in place.

"Thanks for joining us," the other Dean stated. "I was just asking your friend here why you look like my doppelgänger. Care to share?"

Dean looked between you and the older version of himself and sighed slowly. "Probably because I am you--well, the you from 2009. And she's (Y/N) from 2009. We were dragged here to 2014 courtesy of Zachariah."

Future Dean nodded. "Sounds like something he would do. He always was a dick."

You smirked a little, appreciating that somethings never changed. However, your mind was still reeling from the words Future Dean had said to you mere seconds before your Dean had woken up...dead wife.

"As much as I'd like to believe you, I need to be sure." Future Dean crouched down in front of your Dean, eyes narrowed slightly. "Tell me something only we would know."

Your Dean flicked his gaze to you for a moment before turning back to meet his own stare. "We were 19. Rhonda Hurley made us try on her satin panties. They were pink. And you know what? We kinda liked it."

You giggled lightly at his admission and Future Dean cracked a small smile and muttered, "Touché."

Future Dean stood back up, turning his attention to you. You were surprised to see the sadness in his green eyes--a look you'd only ever seen once before.

"You haven't looked at me like that since Jo and Ellen died," you said softly.

Future Dean grimaced. "A lot has happened in the past five years, (Y/N). I carry a hell of a lot more weight than I did in 2009."

You waited for him to continue, as you knew he would.

"A lot of shit happened--really bad shit. The apocalypse, demons, releasing the Croatoan virus...we lost a lot of good people, people I cared about." He sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face. "Three years ago, a small team of us tried to infiltrate a demon lair in an attempt to get Lucifer's location. I led one team, (Y/N) led the other. I don't know how, but they knew we were coming. I couldn't get my whole team out, but (Y/N)--she-she fought until the very end. She made certain her whole team made it out of there alive."

Your breath caught in your chest as you let his words sink in. You could hear the heartbreak in his voice, even though it was obvious he was trying to hide it. Your Dean let out a soft pained sound and you felt the strong urge to go to him, but the ropes around your wrists held you in place.

Future Dean continued, "When I found out they'd left her behind, I went back...the demons had already cleared out, having gotten what they wanted. I found her..." He trailed off, gaze finally raising to meet yours. "I found you...broken and bleeding. I held you in my arms as you took your last breath. I carried you back home and I built your pyre. I wouldn't let anyone else near you. I lost something that day I could never replace, and it changed me forever."

"Dean," you whispered softly. Tears filled your (y/e/c) eyes as you stared into his mossy green ones. "I'm so sorry."

He almost laughed at your response. "I just told you that you die because of me and you're the one who's sorry?" He let out a pained chuckle. "You always did love me more than I deserved."

Your expression was soft and your smile even softer. "I don't blame you. It doesn't matter why or how it happened--it wasn't your fault. I make my own choices, as you well know. So if I chose to stay behind to save other people, then that was my decision and the consequences are for me to bear."

He closed his eyes for a few moments, allowing your words to wash over him. He'd never even imagined he would have the pleasure of hearing your voice again, let alone see your smile, or hear your laugh. He felt his armor crack just enough that a sliver of the Dean you had always loved shone through. It terrified him, your ability to affect him even now, but he knew his love for you had never dimmed and never would.

"What about Sam?" your Dean asked, breaking the silence.

"There was a heavy weight showdown in Detroit a few years back. From what I heard, Sam didn't make it out."

"From what you heard?" Dean asked in shock. "You mean you weren't with him?"

"We hadn't spoken since 2009."

You had your own opinions on Dean's decision to part ways with Sam and you'd been very vocal about it. You could tell by your Dean's expression that he was shocked and guilty about how that decision had played out.

Future Dean turned his gaze to you and you saw the same regret in his eyes that you'd seen in your Dean's. But something about his expression and the intensity of his gaze made you wonder if he was regretting the same thing as your Dean.

Future Dean exhaled slowly and averted his eyes again, pulling his invisible mask back down. "I have a mission, so I have to go. The two of you are going to stay here for the time being. I can't have the younger version of me running around the camp and there are quite a few people here that remember you, (Y/N). So stay here and don't cause any trouble."

You shot a look to your Dean who grumbled something about being left chained up. Future Dean gave you one last sad look before going out the door and leaving you two behind.

"How long until you get yourself out of those cuffs?" you teased softly.

"How long until you squeeze your hands out of that rope future me barely tied?" Dean sniped back.

You smiled and shifted your left hand so you could grab ahold of the knot Future Dean had tied. It took you less than 10 seconds to get it untied and even fewer to release your other hand.

Dean shot you a grin. "That's my girl."

You rolled your eyes, scanning the room for something to pick the handcuff lock with. "You're the one who didn't tie them tightly."

"Future me," he emphasized. "Clearly he's got a soft spot for you."

You smirked. "So do you." Your eyes landed on a small pen knife sitting on the table. You grabbed it, holding it up for him to see.

His eyes sparkled with several different emotions and you knew he was reeling from everything you'd just learned. Hell, you were busy compartmentalizing all of your emotions so you didn't fall apart.

"Yeah," he whispered. "I do."

You offered him a sweet smile before leaning down to his level and picking the lock on his cuffs with the pen knife. As soon as he was free, you helped him to his feet.

"Okay, I'm gonna go have a look around," he said. "You stay here."

"Dean--" you started to protest.

"Hey, it's not like I don't want you with me, but you heard what future me said...there are people here who will recognize you--people who know you're dead."

You sighed, knowing he was right. "Fine. Why don't you go first, make sure it's clear, then I'll follow you."

Dean glared at you for a long moment, before his expression softened. He knew this wasn't a battle he was going to win. "Alright. Just stay out of sight, okay? I don't need one of these trigger-happy yahoos shooting you because they think you're a monster or something."

You nodded your agreement and Dean slowly opened the door to the cabin. You stay inside until he beckoned you to join him. You stayed close to the edge of the cabin as you waited for him to gesture for you to follow.

Just as Dean rounded the corner, Chuck Shirley stepped directly into his path, stopping him in his tracks. You stayed back, back pressed against the side of the cabin.

"Uh, hey there Chuck," Dean said.

Chuck started to ask him about what they should do about a shortage of perishable items and hygiene products before realizing Dean was supposed to be out on a mission.

"Yeah, I-uh-I was gonna head out now," Dean lied.

Suddenly, a woman crossed into your field of vision and swung a punch and a kick at Dean. He jumped back and grabbed Chuck, pulling him in-between himself and the angry woman.

Your instincts screamed for you to help him, but you knew you needed to stay hidden. You listened as the woman, Risa, yelled at Dean for spending the night in another woman's cabin the night before.

"You said we had a connection," she snapped.

You almost laughed at that--it was exactly the kind of thing Dean would say to a woman to appease her.

You watched as Risa angrily stomped away and Dean exhaled in relief. He quickly asked Chuck if Cas is around and he gestured to a cabin close by. "I don't think he's going anywhere," Chuck said lightly as he walked off.

As soon as he was out of sight, Dean's gaze landed on you and he waved at you to follow him. You followed closely behind as he entered the cabin, staying just out of sight of anyone inside.

You could hear Cas's voice, but it sounded different than you remembered it being--softer and maybe even lazier than before.

He must have spotted Dean because you heard him acknowledge him as their "fearless leader". You heard Cas tell the women in the room to wash up and prepare for the orgy.

A group of girls walked by you and Dean as you both step into the room.

"Orgy?" Dean asked incredulously.

Castiel simply shrugged as he regarded both of you. "(Y/N)," he murmured quietly. "This is a surprise."

You sighed. "I'd imagine so. I hear I'm dead."

"Indeed you are." Castiel's gaze landed on Dean. "And you're not the Dean of this time. When are the two of you from?"

"2009," you answered.

"Zachariah sent us here," Dean added.

"Ahh," Cas mumbled. "I shouldn't be surprised."

"Okay, so nice to see you and all that, but can you zap us back please?" Dean asked.

Cas giggled slightly and Dean's gaze narrowed in annoyance.

"Dude, are you stoned?"

"Generally, yeah," Cas replied.

Dean looked over at you, but you were just as surprised as he was. You shrugged and Dean let out a quiet groan.

"I don't have powers anymore," Cas said simply. "When the end came, the angels just left...bored with their playthings, I guess. When they left, so did my powers."

"Oh great," Dean muttered.

"Dean," you said in a warning tone. "Don't."

Cas smiled at you and crossed the room to give you a hug. You were a little surprised, but you returned the gesture.

"It's good to see you, (Y/N). You were always the only person who could keep Dean in line."

You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped you at his words. "We've had the pleasure of meeting the Dean of this time. I imagine he's not exactly one to defer to anyone."

For a moment Castiel's expression grew wistful, as if remembering a better time. "He used to, but he changed rather significantly when you died. It's been three years and he still hasn't gotten over your death. He's not the same Dean you knew."

You glanced at your Dean and exhaled softly. "Knowing him, he's just hid that part of himself so far down he's forgotten it even exists."

Dean's gaze met yours and you knew you were right. You could see it is eyes--he knew exactly what losing you would do to him. He knew the kind of man he would become.

Cas glanced back and forth between the two of you and shook his head. "You always could read each other's minds. It's nice to see that again. But I am curious, how did our Dean handle meeting the two of you?"

"Not well," you admitted.

"Pretty sure he was happier to see you than he was to see me," Dean muttered.

You chuckled mildly. "Well I'm the dead one, so it seems fitting."

Dean winced and you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. He tried to smile at you, but the pain in his gaze ensured the expression didn't meet his eyes.

Before any of you could utter another word, the sound of trucks pulling up sounded from outside the cabin. You let Dean walk out first, followed by Cas. You opted to remain in the shadows just inside the doorway. You could see what was happening outside without being noticed.

You saw Future Dean getting out of one of the trucks and tossing a beer to another man. They cracked them open and the other man turned his back on Dean.

You watched in horror as Future Dean raised his pistol, pointing it at the man's back. Your Dean ran out, yelling for him to stop, but it was too late. Future Dean pulled the trigger and the man fell to the ground.

Future Dean whirled around, coming face to face with your Dean, eyes full of anger. As Dean began to argue with Future Dean, you ran out in an attempt to calm both men. Castiel grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

The gasps and shocked faces of the people around you reminded of you of the position you'd just put yourself in. Most people were staring at your Dean in confusion, but several gazes had landed on you. You recognized a few of the faces and you knew in your heart these people had known you--the other you.

Future Dean gestured to your Dean and said, "Me and him--it's messed up, okay? But if you need to know something, then I'll tell you when you need to know it."

As Future Dean glanced around, he noticed some people were not looking at him--or at his doppelgänger. He followed one person's gaze and his body froze when his eyes landed on you. Even though he'd known you were here, it was still painfully jarring to see you.

What was worse, was he wasn't sure how to explain your presence--too many people had known you. A few of them had been there when you'd died.

You locked eyes with Future Dean and your heart ached for him. You could see the turmoil in his eyes and the difficulty he was having formulating any kind of words to address your presence. He might not be your Dean, but you still loved him--after all, he was the man your Dean would one day become.

You stepped forward, gently pulling yourself from Castiel's grasp. "Dean," you whispered softly, sad eyes meeting his.

"Some of you might remember my wife, (Y/N)," Future Dean said calmly. "I'm not prepared to explain her presence to all of you, but just know that she's not here to cause any harm."

His statement seemed to appease most of the small gathering, but you saw some darker expressions cross the faces of a few people in the crowd.

Future Dean stepped forward and grabbed your Dean by the jacket, practically dragging him towards his cabin. His gaze landed on you and he gestured for you to follow.

"Didn't I tell both of you to stay put?" he growled as he closed the door behind him.

Your Dean began to argue, but he was silenced by Future Dean's anger.

"He was infected, okay? I've been doing this a long time and you learn to see the signs. I did what I had to do."

"We know that," you said softly.

Both men looked at you in surprise, but your gaze was firmly on Future Dean's face. You wanted him to know you understood--you weren't even sure why.

"You didn't need to kill him in front of everyone," your Dean commented.

Future Dean's gaze cut to him like a blade. "Yeah because seeing my freaking clone and my dead wife was so much better."

Your Dean opened his mouth to continue the argument, but Future Dean cut him off.

"The last thing these people need is to see me arguing with you, okay? They're twitchy survivors who can't handle this. This is my time, not yours, so stay in your lane."

Dean backed off, realizing Future Dean was right. He was nothing more than an observer in this time and he needed to act like it.

Future Dean pulled out three glasses and poured a drink for each of you. Your eyes scaned his face, keen senses picking up on the emotions clearly stirring beneath the calm surface. You wanted to talk to him, get him to open up, but you knew this wasn't the time.

"So what was the mission for?" you asked gently.

Future Dean gave you an appreciative look. "Five years of searching--five long years and I finally found it." He pulled something out of his jacket and laid it on the table. "The Colt."

"How?" your Dean asked in surprise.

"Demons have been moving it around for years, but we finally got good intel on its location."

You felt uneasy as you regarded him. You couldn't read him as well as you could your Dean, but you knew he was thinking about something--something you weren't going to like. "What's your plan?" you asked warily.

"Tomorrow night," he said, dark gaze fixed on your face, "I'm gonna kill the devil."

Shock lit up both your's and your Dean's faces. "We have no idea if the Colt's gonna work!" you protested, fear lacing your voice.

"It's our only shot and I'm gonna take it," he countered.

You glanced at your Dean and you could tell he didn't like the sound of this plan any more than you did. Sure, you both wanted to find the Colt in your time and kill the devil so none of this would happen, but there was no way to know if it would work. No one had ever tried it on an archangel before.

"Can I speak to my wife alone for a moment?" Future Dean asked, further shocking you both.

"I, uhh--" you stuttered.

Your Dean looked at you sympathetically, a sad expression settling onto his face. You knew what the look meant, so you weren't surprised to hear him agree. He stepped outside, leaving you and Future Dean alone.

"You know it's hard for me," he began, "seeing you after all this time."

"It's not easy on me either," you admitted, "seeing the man you become...and knowing I'm not going to be with you much longer."

He looked down in shame. "I know I'm not the man you love." He gestured to where your Dean stood outside. "I'm not him. But I have never stopped loving you--never stoped missing you."

You closed your eyes for a moment. "I know. I can feel it."

"I knew you would," he said softly. "I'm sure knowing what the future has in store for both of us isn't something you'd expected to see."

You shook your head. "I certainly didn't expect to hear you call me 'your wife'."

A small smirk played across his lips. "You get your priorities straight when the world is about to end. Marrying you was the best thing I ever did."

You smiled slowly, but your heart ached too much to continue this train of discussion. "So why did you want to speak alone?"

He inhaled deeply. "I wanted to talk to you without him around to persuade you otherwise."

"Persuade me to do what, exactly?"

His gaze was intense as he stepped towards you. If you didn't know him, it would have frightened you. "When you go back to 2009, I want you to pack up your things and leave. Leave me as far behind as you can--run and never look back."

A mixture of shock and sorrow darkened your features. "I-I can't do that."

He reached out and grabbed your hands, squeezing them tightly. "You have to, (Y/N)," he pleaded. "It's the only way I can keep you safe--alive."

You shook your head. "I can't leave you."

He caressed your cheek gently, his calloused hands molding perfectly to your face. "I need you to do this for me, sweetheart. I know it won't be easy and I-he won't understand, but it's for the best. He'll realize it in the end."

"Marrying me was the best thing you've ever done, but you want to deny yourself that joy? Deny me?"

"I would rather suffer a thousand deaths than watch you die again. It almost killed me, (Y/N). Hell, in a way it kinda did. I'm not that man anymore, and I don't want that for him."

You touched his face gently, fingers grazing against the rough stubble on his cheek. "You're wrong, you know. I can see him in you. You might be older, damaged in ways I can't understand, but the man I love lives in you. You and I both know Dean is going to tell me the same thing when we get back to 2009. It will break his heart, but he will beg me to leave if there's even a remote chance it will save my life."

His expression told you exactly how right you were.

"Looks like you haven't changed all that much--at least not in the ways that matter."

A flicker of pain crossed his face, but he was quick to hide it. He loved you so much it hurt and he knew there was no hope for him. He had to believe that the Dean from 2009 would heal from losing you, especially if it meant you got to live.

"Sometimes, I'll lie awake at night and stare at your picture--talk to it, even. I dream of you often and it breaks my heart every time I wake up to find you're not there. I miss you with every part of my tattered soul."

"Dean..." you whispered, leaning into him.

"I know you don't love me, but I need you to know how deeply I love you, even now. You hold my heart in the palm of your hand, (Y/N). You always have."

You stood on your tip-toes and brushed your lips across his cheek. "You are him," you whispered lowly. "I love him, so I love you. Five years of hell on earth doesn't change that."

Tears filled his eyes and he pulled you tightly against him. He never wanted to let you go, no matter what the cost. He felt conflicted about loving you so much, but he knew without a doubt in his mind that the 2009 version of himself would understand.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head before settling his chin down against it. He loved the way you fit in his arms, as if you were made for them. He wanted you so badly it hurt--an ache so deep in his bones he knew he would never be rid of it.

It took all of his strength--all his willpower--to pull away, releasing you and taking a step back.

You looked up at him with compassionate (y/e/c) eyes, wanting nothing more than to comfort him, heal his pain. You hadn't been lying when you said you loved him. You could feel the man you loved beneath the hardened exterior, and it broke your heart to see him in so much pain.

Your eyes scanned his face again, but he couldn't meet your gaze. You knew his body ached for your touch--you knew because your Dean had always been that way. It had been three years since Future Dean had felt your body against his, so you knew exactly how much it was killing him.

You sighed, glancing out the little window at the front of the cabin. Your Dean stood out there, shoulders set in that stern way you were used to seeing. Your heart ached for him--you knew it was hard for him to be in this situation. You loved him more than you'd ever thought possible and you knew he felt the same. Seeing the way his future self looked at you likely made him contemplate things he shouldn't have had to bear.

"Stay here," you whispered to Future Dean. You stepped past him, heading for the door.

Future Dean watched as you exited, eyes fixated on the way you moved--desperately trying to commit every inch of you to memory.

"Hey," your Dean said softly as you stepped outside. "You okay?"

"Not really," you admitted. "You?"

He gave you a sad smile and shook his head. "This is a lot harder than I thought it would be."

"I know."

"No, sweetheart, I don't think you do," he said gently, but firmly. "You have an idea, sure, but you don't know--not the way I do. I can see it on his face--on my face. The way he misses you, the love he so clearly feels for you...the emptiness inside of him only you can fill. I know all of those feelings, (Y/N). I can't even fathom the pain of losing you. It hurts to even think about."

You touched his arm gently and he leaned into the touch as if on instinct.

"I know what he's feeling, even if I can't fully experience it myself. I know the devastation I would feel if I lost you--I don't think I'd ever fully recover. Add to that all the loss he's experienced in the last five years and I can understand why he's the way he is. I see myself in him...and I can see myself becoming him."

Dean turned his full attention to you and his next words shocked you to your very core.

"He needs you, (Y/N). I have a bad feeling about tomorrow night and I think you might be the only thing that stops him from doing something reckless. It pains me to say this--to give you up, even for a moment, but he needs you. I know it might feel weird, wrong even, but he's me...and I get him, more than I'd care to admit."

Your lips parted in surprise. "I-I don't know if I can do that, Dean."

He touched your face gently and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "He's me, (Y/N)...and he needs you. You're his wife, after all. So go."

Your eyes scanned his face for any sign of discomfort, but you only saw sadness. Part of you hated this idea, but the other part knew he was right. You'd felt it when you'd been with Future Dean--felt his need for you so strongly it nearly overwhelmed you.

"I love you," you whispered.

"I know, sweetheart. I love you too."

He nodded towards the cabin and gave you a soft smile. You stepped away, knowing you were about to do something that felt both incredibly wrong and incredibly right at the same time.

"Where will you go?"

"I'll hang out with Cas. Don't worry about me, baby."

You nodded and watched him walk away towards Castiel's cabin. You took a deep breath and steeled yourself before turning to the door in front of you.

Future Dean seemed almost surprised to see you as you stepped back into the cabin.

"Hi," you murmured.

"Hey."

"I can't walk away," you whispered. "Not when you're in so much pain."

He looked at you in confusion, unsure of what you were trying to tell him.

You were typically so good with words, but whatever skill you normally had failed you as you looked into his haunted green eyes. There was no way for you to fully understand the emotions he was feeling, no words to explain how desperately you wanted to heal even the smallest fraction of his soul.

You crossed the short distance between you, practically crashing into him as you grabbed the edges of his jacket and pulled him down to you. The kiss surprised him, but he was in no position to pull away--wrong or not, he craved you like a drowning man in need of air.

His arms wrapped around you and pulled you flush against him, holding on for dear life as he deepened the kiss. It felt as if you were both engulfed in flames, every sensation burning you both--scarring you in a way neither of you would ever heal from.

His hands traveled down your back, slipping under your ass to pull you up into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist, lips never leaving his.

He carried you to a small room at the back of the cabin and laid you down as gently as he could onto the mattress. There was no bed--simply a mattress on the floor, but there were blankets and a couple pillows, just enough to be comfortable.

Your hands slid inside his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders forcefully. His lips didn't leave yours as he tugged it off and tossed it out of the way. You pulled on his henley, silently begging him to take it off too, a request he immediately complied with.

He had to pull away from you just long enough to tug the shirt over his head, but the action was enough to ground him. As he gazed down at you, his heart clenched in his chest. You were just as beautiful as he remembered, eyes full of love and adoration--an expression he'd missed desperately.

"I love you so much, (Y/N/N)," he said quietly.

Your expression softened slightly, realizing the pain he was feeling--the mixed emotions racing through his veins. "I love you too, Dean. Don't question that for a second."

He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into the palm of your hand as you reached up to cup his cheek.

"Get out of your head, baby," you murmured. "Focus on me--on this moment--nothing else."

His eyes slowly opened, gaze landing on your face. You began to blush beneath him, his hungry expression heating you from the inside out.

"You're wearing far too much clothing for my taste," he teased, voice low and throaty.

You smirked. "I know you like to rip my clothes off, but these are my only ones--so be gentle."

He groaned, just like you knew he would. Dean was notorious for literally ripping your clothes--he'd ruined more shirts and pants than you cared to admit...not to mention most of your undergarments.

"How 'bout we make a deal?" he murmured.

You hummed in response, so he continued.

"I'll promise not to rip your pants or your underwear, if you're willing to forfeit your shirt."

You looked up at him in surprise. "I don't have another shirt, Dean."

He grinned wolfishly. "But I do."

Realization crossed your features, a small smile curling the corners of your mouth. Before you could respond, he gripped your shirt in his strong hands and tore it right in half, revealing your heaving chest.

"Dean!" you admonished in surprise.

"Sorry, baby--I couldn't wait any longer. You know how impatient I get."

As if to emphasize his impatience, he lowered his mouth to your chest, tugging the cups of your bra down to expose your soft breasts. He groaned loudly before burying his face between them, nipping and sucking at the supple flesh.

You moaned softly, fingers of one hand tangling in the short locks at the base of his skull. Your other hand slipped down his broad back feeling the heated skin beneath the tips of your fingers.

You felt unfamiliar scars, which nearly brought tears to your eyes. You hated the idea of him being hurt--especially if you weren't there to care for him as he healed.

Dean sensed your shift in demeanor and he lifted his head to observe your face. "You okay, baby?"

His soft words brought you back to the present and you offered him a small smile. "New scars," you whispered.

You didn't need to elaborate, he knew exactly what you meant. He could read you just as well as you could read him. "You were there for most of them," he murmured gently.

You relaxed slightly and he sighed before placing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"You know me too well," you remarked.

"You're the love of my life, sweetheart. There's not a damn thing I don't know about you."

Tears pricked at the back of your eyes and you desperately pushed the welling emotions down, choosing instead to focus on the here and now. "I need you, Dean," you whispered. "Desperately."

He had never been one to deny you, and he certainly wasn't going to start now. Besides, his own need was slowly becoming unbearable.

"I'm right here, baby. I'll make you feel so good--I promise."

He wasted no time in removing the rest of your clothing and his own. He wanted to take his time, really feel you, but he knew time was the one thing neither of you had.

"I need to taste you," he whispered into your ear before beginning his descent to your aching pussy.

Some things may have changed in the last five years, but Dean's skills in the bedroom hadn't. The things he could do with his mouth should have been categorized as a crime--his ability to have you screaming and shaking within minutes was still a shock after all this time.

He loved the way you tasted, the way your body reacted to his touch, the pretty sounds you made as he feasted on you. There wasn't a damn thing he didn't love about you, but he had to admit this was in the top five things he missed most about you. The way your body melded with his--two souls intertwining in the most fundamental way, the overwhelming pleasure he could only find in your arms...he'd be a liar if he said he hadn't dreamed of it often in the last three years.

Your nails dug into his biceps as you desperately clung to any part of him you could reach. Your orgasm swept over you seconds later, pulling moans and whimpers from your throat as he continued his assault.

Dean ignored the tugs on his hair, instead holding your hips even more firmly against the mattress as he continued to eat your pussy hungrily. It took mere moments for your whimpers to once again turn to heavy moans of need--your voice hoarse from begging him to keep going.

When your second orgasm crashed into you, your legs shook almost violently against his head, thighs threatening to crush him. He couldn't have been bothered to care--had you actually crushed him in that moment, he would have died a happy man.

He finally relented when you began begging him to give you a moment--just one moment to breathe. He lifted himself up to hover over you, licking his lips happily as he gazed down at you.

"You seem pleased with yourself," you said breathlessly.

"Oh I am." The pride he was feeling practically oozed from his pores. Nothing stroked his ego like making you fall apart over and over again.

You ran your hands up and down his arms in a gentle, soothing manner. He'd always loved the way you touched him--the sweet, loving action something he hadn't been used to before you.

"I love you," he whispered.

You met his gaze and smiled. "All my heart and all my soul, Dean Winchester. Always."

The reply stunned him into a motionless silence. It had been years since he'd heard those words from your lips--he never thought he would be lucky enough to hear them again. In that moment, he felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest, torn apart, and put back together...it hurt like hell, but he wouldn't have traded the moment for anything.

You noticed the change in him and you worried you'd said something wrong. "I'm sorry--"

"Don't apologize," he said immediately. "I just...I haven't heard those words in years and--well, it hit me harder than I thought it would. That was, umm--" he sighed heavily. "It was the last thing you said to me before you died."

His voice was a gravelly whisper, filled with unimaginable pain, and it nearly broke your heart in two. "Dean..." you murmured.

"You have no idea how badly I've wanted to hear those words again--to hear your sweet voice remind me how much you love me. I missed you, sweetheart."

You couldn't have known how he'd react to your statement--hell, you hadn't even thought about it...the words just poured from your mouth like they had countless times before. It didn't matter what year he was from--you loved Dean Winchester with a kind of endless passion that would outlive Death himself.

You knew this experience would change you in ways you couldn't yet comprehend, but you wouldn't change it for anything. At the end of the day, this was Dean, and there was nothing you wouldn't do for him--nothing.

"Make love to me, Dean," you whispered lovingly, eyes bright with desire.

"I could never deny you, (Y/N/N)," he said sweetly. "I won't start now."

He leaned down to kiss you deeply, pulling you back into the warm embrace you craved. As the kiss progressed, your bodies became more entangled, until it was impossible to tell where one of you ended and the other began. It was a feeling you'd only ever felt with Dean, and one you couldn't have explained even if you tried.

After what seemed like an eternity, Dean finally broke the kiss, breathing deeply. "I can't hold back any longer. I need you more than I need to breathe, (Y/N)."

"I'm yours, Dean."

The simple act of giving yourself over to him completely had him wanting to do nothing but worship you until the sun came up again.

He didn't hesitate, didn't overthink--your body was calling to him and he answered it gladly. In one single thrust, he buried himself fully inside you, eliciting sharp groans from you both.

"Fuck, sweetheart--I forgot how incredible you feel," he whispered against your heated skin.

You were breathless and aching, the desire for him to ruin you so overwhelming you couldn't think of anything else. "Move," you pleaded desperately, nails digging into his shoulder blades.

His body mindlessly responded to your pleas, hips setting an almost brutal pace. You both needed this--needed the release that could only come from each other.

You clung to him and he to you, the room filling with the salacious sounds of wet skin against skin and moans of endless pleasure.

"I love the sounds you make when I'm inside you, baby," he groaned. "I fucking missed them so much."

"You feel so good, Dean," you gasped.

"So do you, sweetheart."

And fuck did you feel incredible. He loved you so much and you felt it in every single movement his body made. You hoped he could feel just how much you loved him in return.

"You're the only woman who could ever make me feel like this," he whispered.

You knew exactly what he meant--what he was trying to say. Sex had always been different with you. It had always felt more incredible than with anyone else he'd ever been with. The profound bound the two of you shared made everything better--even sex.

"I never want you to stop," you murmured. "It feels so good."

"Shit," he groaned, your words having more of an affect on him then he'd expected. "Keep talking like that and I'm gonna cum."

"That's what I want, Dean. Want you to fill me up."

He practically growled as he bit down on your collar bone, hips slowing as he tried to regain his composure. "Need you to cum first," he begged.

You rolled your hips against his in response and the sensations he was experiencing snapped whatever remained of his self-control. He grabbed your legs and tugged them flush against his chest and began to pound into you recklessly.

His cock slammed into your g-spot with each thrust, pulling sharp cries of pleasure from your open mouth. Your hands grasped at the blankets beneath you, struggling desperately to find purchase anywhere.

He knew he could get you over the edge this way--he knew your body almost as well as he knew his own. Within a few short minutes, your cries of pleasure turned to screams of his name as one of the most intense orgasms of your life hit you like a tsunami.

Before you could come down from your high, Dean found his own, releasing his seed into your pussy. The contractions of your walls around him milked every last drop of cum from him before he collapsed on top of you, spent and satisfied.

Your arms immediately wrapped around him, holding him tightly against you. You could feel his heart beating rapidly against your chest and you were certain he could feel yours. There was nothing quite like the feeling of being in the arms of the person you love most.

"You're amazing, (Y/N)," he whispered into your neck.

"As are you," you mumbled, pressing your lips into his hair.

He held you almost as tightly as you were holding him and you knew he didn't want to ever let go. Your heart ached for the man in your arms just as much as it ached for the man currently sitting in Castiel's cabin.

Love was the most complicated emotion there was, but this far surpassed any normal situation. Dean Winchester was the love of your life in any time period--past, present, or future. You hated seeing the man you loved in pain and seeing two of him in pain complicated matters beyond belief.

"Where's your head at?" he asked softly.

You chuckled lightly--he really did know you better than anyone else.

"Just thinking about this messed up situation we've found ourselves in."

He sighed quietly. "Don't think on it too much, sweetheart. Zachariah will send you back tomorrow and everything will go back to normal."

"Except for the part where both present and future versions of you want me to leave..."

He lifted his head slowly. "It's too late for me...I'm too far gone, too deeply and madly in love with you to ever push you away. But the Dean from 2009? Yeah he loves you more than he's ever loved another person in his life, but he'll learn to live without you. He has to. Otherwise he'll wake up one day in 2011 without you and he'll feel the way that I do. He'll be forced to live with a hole in his chest that no human being could ever fill, and it'll change him, (Y/N). It'll break him."

Tears streamed down your face as you listened to his words. You knew they were true--knew it was how he was feeling, how he'd felt for years. You didn't want your Dean to feel that pain, but you knew deep in your heart you couldn't walk away. There was no timeline where you could turn your back on the one person that made life worth living...but this Dean didn't need to know that.

"No more talking," you said softly. "Let's just sleep a while."

He nodded and rolled over onto his back, taking you with him. You giggled softly as you nuzzled into his chest, finding comfort in his strong arms.

**********

You awoke to the sound of knocking on the door of the cabin. You felt Dean stir beside you, a grumble of annoyance slipping past his lips. You smiled a little at his moodiness--it was nice to see some things never changed.

You pulled yourself up and got dressed quickly, grabbing a clean henley from the small pile of clothes in the corner. It was much too big on you, but it was all you had thanks to Dean's impatience.

You opened the door of the cabin and found a somewhat sheepish looking Castiel standing on the other side.

"Is, uh, is Dean awake?"

"He mumbled something rather rude when I tried to wake him up, so I let him sleep."

Cas chuckled. "Sounds about right."

"I can wake him if you need him."

Cas looked like he wanted to say no, but knew he couldn't. "Yeah, if you don't mind. We need to start planning for tomorrow if we want this to work. People are starting to talk."

You sighed. "I'll get him up."

You stepped back, leaving the door open as an invitation for Cas to come inside. He chose not to, opting instead to wait on the porch while you went to wake Dean.

"Dean? Sweetheart?" you said gently. "You need to get up."

"Five more minutes," he grumbled.

You laughed and shook him a few times. "Come on, handsome. We've got work to do."

"Fine," he groaned. "Fine."

He sat up slowly, eyes dark with sleep. He looked up at you and you offered him a soft smile, which he instantly returned.

"You're so beautiful."

You blushed. "Get dressed before Cas comes in and sees your naked ass."

"He's probably seen it a couple times by now," he teased as he got up. "Now, where'd you put my pants?"

You laughed. "I think you threw them somewhere over there." You pointed to the other side of the room where a small pile of clothes laid.

He smirked slightly and crossed the room, grabbing his clothes and putting them on quickly.

"What's up, Cas?" he asked gruffly when he came into the main room.

"The team wants to know what's going down tomorrow and uh, past you says we need to start making a plan."

He shot you a look, but you simply shrugged. You weren't at all surprised your Dean wanted to make a plan. He didn't like this whole idea in the first place, so it made sense he would want some kind of plan in place.

"Fine. Gather the team and get them in here."

Cas went off to do as asked. The first person to arrive was your Dean. One look at his handsome face had you rushing to him and wrapping your arms around him. He buried his face in your hair and sighed softly.

"I know this is a little awkward," you said quietly to both Deans as you stepped back.

"Not as much as you would think," your Dean responded.

Future Dean nodded, but remained quiet for a few moments. He fixed your Dean with an intense gaze even you couldn't quite read. "Thank you," he said so softly you almost missed it.

Your Dean nodded his understanding. You realized it really was different for the two of them than it was for you. They were the same man five years apart...they understood each other's thoughts and emotions in a way you never could.

Before you could say anything else, Cas returned with Risa and a couple other people in tow. Risa gave both Deans an odd look before turning her dark gaze to you. You couldn't read her expression, but you felt the jealousy coming off her in waves.

"Well this is about to be uncomfortable," you murmured to your Dean, who just chuckled.

Everyone sat down around the table except for both Deans and yourself. You stood beside your Dean, and you both stood slightly back to give yourselves room to observe everyone.

Risa glared at Future Dean so intensely it made everyone uncomfortable. He gave her a confused look and simply asked, "Why are you pissed at me?"

"Something about you having a connection, but then spending the night in another chick's cabin," your Dean quipped.

You snickered softly, as did Cas. Future Dean shot a glare your way, but you simply shrugged.

"Plus your dead wife is magically not dead, so yeah, I feel some kinda way," Risa grumbled.

"The (Y/N) some of you knew is dead. This one is from 2009--same as him," Future Dean said, gesturing to your Dean. "Now that we've got that out of the way, can we please focus?"

No one dared argue with him.

Future Dean launched into his spiel about killing the devil, revealing the Colt to the other people in the room.

"How do you know it's gonna work?" Risa asked skeptically.

"It's all we've got," Future Dean answered. "We got Lucifer's location from that demon we captured last week. We know where he's gonna be for the first time in years."

"The demon might have lied for all you know," Risa snapped.

"Trust me, he was honest."

Castiel leaned towards Risa. "Dean is very well-versed in the art of getting to the truth."

You inhaled sharply, immediately understanding Castiel's meaning. Your Dean stiffened beside you and you felt the quiet rage simmering beneath the surface.

"Seriously? You went back to torture?" your Dean said angrily.

Future Dean looked at you, a resigned look of sadness on his face. You sighed and placed your hand on your Dean's arm and murmured, "Let it go, Dean."

He caught Future Dean's expression and fell silent again. There was no use arguing about his tactics now.

"Now," Future Dean said as he gestured to the map on the table. "We'll be heading in here."

"That's a hot zone," Cas said. "It's filled with Croats and demons--kinda reckless to just go barging in there don't you think?"

"Are you coming or not?" Future Dean asked, ignoring Cas's objections.

"Of course," Cas responded. "I've gotta ask though, why are they coming?" He nodded his head towards you and your Dean.

"I don't answer to you. Just know that they are coming."

Castiel put his hands up in surrender.

"Why don't you all go get supplies ready and recruit a couple more people," you suggested.

Future Dean nodded his agreement and the others left, leaving you and the Deans alone.

"Now why don't you try that again, but give an honest answer this time," you said sternly, eyes boring into Future Dean's face.

He sighed wearily. "I want you both to see what happened to Sam. Especially you." He pointed to the younger version of himself.

"What do you mean?" your Dean asked. "You said he died in Detroit."

"No, I didn't. I said he didn't make it out."

You exhaled sharply, heart nearly breaking as you realized what he was saying.

Future Dean fixed his gaze on you and you knew your assumption was correct. You instinctively reached out to your Dean in an attempt to ground him--you knew exactly how this information would affect him.

"What's going on?" your Dean asked, looking between you and his doppelgänger.

"He said yes," you whispered.

Future Dean nodded, but your Dean simply looked confused.

"The big yes," Future Dean said tiredly. "Lucifer wore him to the prom."

You gave your Dean a sad look. A flash of pain crossed his handsome features and your heart broke for him. You'd told him back in your time that he needed to forgive Sam--needed to mend their relationship. You didn't realize just how important that mending would be.

"He wouldn't do that," your Dean whispered.

You placed a comforting hand on his arm, but didn't bother to contradict him.

"Well he did," Future Dean snapped. "And when you go back, you need to say 'yes' to Michael. Immediately."

"Absolutely not!" you gasped.

Now it was Dean's turn to comfort you, his hand coming to rest on yours. "She's right. A showdown between Michael and Lucifer would torch half the planet."

"Half a planet is better than no planet," Future Dean insisted.

"If it's such a good idea, why didn't you say yes?" your Dean asked.

"Oh trust me, I tried. But by the time I was ready, the angels had given up and fucked off to wherever they are now."

"There has to be another way," your Dean whispered.

Future Dean fixed you with an expression that made everything clear to you.

"That's why you want me to leave," you began softly. "You know I would never approve of him saying yes to Michael. If I'm not around to influence him, then maybe he'll be foolish enough to say 'yes', right?"

Your Dean looked confused, but Future Dean held your gaze and you knew you were right.

"I really don't want you to die," he said gently. "But I also know exactly what you'll say...and I know the impact your words will have on my choices. Because I already made them."

"You told her to leave me?" your Dean asked slowly. "Even knowing what that'll do to me?"

"You'll both be better off."

"You don't get to make that call," you snapped.

Future Dean sighed and shook his head. "You'll both make your own decisions, but I just want you to have all the facts. Gear up. We move out in 20." With that he walked out the door, leaving you and your Dean alone.

"What if he's right?"

"About saying yes to Michael?" you asked in surprise.

Dean shook his head. "About it being better for you to leave."

You sighed quietly. "He's wrong...about all of it."

"I've seen what losing you did to me--to him...and I'm not sure that's something I can voluntarily experience."

You smiled. "I'm gonna do everything in my power to make sure you never have to."

Dean returned the smile and pulled you in closely. "I love you, (Y/N)."

"I love you too, Dean Winchester. Always."

**********

You were sitting in the backseat of the truck, listening to Cas tell your Dean about becoming human. It was weird for you to see Cas like this, hell he was driving. It was even harder to see how broken he had become and it only made you want to prevent this future even more.

You closed your eyes, desperate to fall asleep--to leave this fucked up, burned out world behind. You wanted to go home--to 2009. There was still time to change the future, to stop any of this from happening. You would give anything to stop it.

You must have fallen asleep because you were awoken by the gentle sound of your Dean's voice telling you it was time to wake up. You opened your eyes, surprised to see it was now light out.

"We're here, baby," he said softly.

You sighed deeply and nodded. You dragged yourself out of the truck and gathered your weapons along with the rest of the group. Your senses immediately told you something was off and one glance at your Dean told you he felt the same.

"Didn't you say this is a hot zone?" you asked Cas softly.

The former angel nodded.

"Then where are all the Croats?"

"Must be in another part of the city," he responded.

You and Dean exchanged a look, neither one of you believing his response.

Nevertheless, you followed the group, searching the rundown city for the building you were going to raid. When you found it, all of your hunter instincts screamed that something was wrong, but this time you weren't the first to voice it.

"Shouldn't there be a shit load of demons out here?" your Dean asked.

Future Dean shrugged. "They must all be inside."

His answer didn't satisfy you one bit, but you kept your mouth shut, choosing instead to observe him closely. The only person who knew Dean better than you was the man himself, which was proven moments later.

"Alright," Future Dean started. "You guys go in through the second story window. The three of us will sneak around back."

Risa looked more than a little concerned with the game plan. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

She glanced over at Cas, who clearly agreed with her worry.

"Trust me, okay? They'll never see us coming," Future Dean assured them.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" your Dean said firmly, his words more a statement than a question.

Future Dean sighed, but stepped off to the side to speak with the two of you.

"You're lying to them," your Dean said lowly. "Don't deny it--I know your lying expressions, I've seen them in the mirror."

Future Dean sighed in annoyance and your Dean threatened to tell the team about his concerns, but Future Dean stopped him.

"I know it's a trap, alright? I'm not an idiot. They'll go in the front door and create a distraction while I sneak around the back."

"You're sacrificing your team?" you asked incredulously.

"They're your friends! And Cas? Come on, man--this isn't you," your Dean added.

"My inability to make the tough decisions is what got us here in the first place. Look around you--this is the end of everything," Future Dean growled. "It's my job to kill Lucifer and save what's left of this planet, so that's what I'm going to do."

"I can't let you do that," your Dean argued.

Instead of engaging in further discussion, Future Dean jabbed the butt of his gun into your Dean's head, knocking him unconscious instantly.

"Dean!" you yelled, unsure if you were calling for yours or yelling at the Future version.

"I have to do this, (Y/N)," he said softly. "I need you to understand."

Tears welled in your eyes. "I understand why you believe that, but I don't agree. It's not who you are, Dean...the man I fell in love with would never sacrifice the people he loves--not for anything."

Future Dean looked down at the ground in silence. When he lifted his head again, his face was hard--a mask of non-emotion.

"I'm doing what needs to be done," he said firmly. "Stay with him and stay out of the way."

You wanted to reason with him, but you knew there was no point in trying. Yes, he was still Dean, but you knew you would never be able to change his mind. He'd made his choices and he'd had to live with them. Now, he was just trying to make up for all the mistakes he believed he'd made.

"Go," you whispered.

He nodded and moved back to join the others. You watched everyone but Dean head to the front of the building, a feeling of sorrow weighing on your heart.

"Dean," you called softly, prompting him to turn to look at you. "Don't die."

He gave you the smallest of smiles and nodded before running towards the back of the building.

You dropped to your knees and shook your Dean firmly. "Dean, wake up!"

After a few minutes, he groaned and his eyes fluttered open. "Fuck," he mumbled.

"Hey!" You helped him into a sitting position. "You okay?"

"My head's killing me."

"He hit you pretty hard," you said gently.

The sound of gunfire urged him to his feet. "We gotta go."

You nodded and let him grab your hand as the two of you ran to the back of the building. You arrived to a terrifying scene--Future Dean was lying on the ground and a man in a white suit stood above him, his foot firmly on Dean's neck.

Future Dean made eye contact with you seconds before his neck snapped and the life left his face.

"No!" you screamed.

Your Dean grabbed you, pulling you back to keep you from rushing forward. Watching Dean die felt like having your own heart ripped out of your chest--it was a feeling you hoped you'd never have to relive.

The man turned around in surprise and your breath caught in your chest. Objectively, you'd known it was Lucifer--you'd known he'd be in Sam's body--but there was nothing quite like seeing it in person.

Dean instinctively pushed you behind him, putting his body protectively in front of yours.

"Dean, (Y/N)," Lucifer greeted calmly. "It's a surprise to see you here--especially since I killed you three years ago and well..." he looked down at Future Dean's body with a nonchalant shrug. "It must be a shock to see your brother like this."

"Why don't you just kill me now and get it over with?" Dean asked angrily.

"Well that would be redundant. I'll kill your lovely wife three years before I kill you," he said simply. "We will always end up here, Dean. This is the way our story ends."

"Deep-frying the planet and murdering billions of people? What a shitty story," Dean snapped.

Lucifer started to rant about loving God too much and being punished for it...but you'd stopped listening. You could feel the pain rolling off your sweet Dean in waves. You knew what he was thinking--he'd failed his brother and in doing so, destroyed the world.

"I'm not falling for that sympathy-for-the-devil crap!" Dean yelled, pulling you back to the present. "The only difference between you and the monsters I've hunted my whole life is the size of your ego."

If the situation had been different, you probably would have laughed. Dean's fearlessness was something you both loved and admired about him. What's more, you agreed with his sentiment.

Lucifer simply smiled. "I like you, Dean. I can see what the other angels see in you." His gaze landed on you and you felt the rage boiling under your skin. "No hard feelings, (Y/N). Your death was a means to an end--it broke what little humanity your precious Dean had left in him. It's what led us to this moment."

Lucifer turned to walk away, but Dean called after him. "You better kill me now or I won't stop until I find a way to kill you."

Lucifer's smile was cruel. "I know you'll try Dean, but I also know you'll never say 'yes' to Michael, and you'll never kill Sam. No matter what choices you make or details you change, your wife will die in 2011 and you and I will always end up right here."

"You're wrong," Dean whispered, eyes filling with pained tears.

You touched his arm gently, reminding him he wasn't alone. He leaned into your touch, but remained steadfastly in front of you--guarding you with every ounce of strength he had.

"I'll see you in two years, (Y/N)," Lucifer said with a condescending smile. "And I'll see you in five, Dean."

Before either of you could say a word, Lucifer vanished, leaving the two of you alone.

"Dean..." you whispered softly.

He turned to you, his expression full of agony. You reached for him just as Zachariah appeared and placed a hand against each of your foreheads, zapping you back to the hotel room in Kansas City, circa 2009.

Both of you turned to face the offending angel, anger your primary emotion in the moment.

"Now you know what's going to happen," Zachariah said, cutting off any rant either of you could start. "Your only option is to say 'yes' to Michael, otherwise billions of people are going to die."

"How do we know that wasn't just another one of your tricks?" you snapped.

"The time for tricks is over," Zachariah stated. "Saying 'yes' to Michael is the only way you can save the world--save (Y/N)--save your brother.

Dean turned to you, his face full of anguish. It made your heart clench in your chest and you worried for a moment he'd changed his mind.

"Nah," Dean said to Zachariah, jaw set in a firm line.

You smirked a little, watching Zachariah's facial expression turn to shock.

"Are you telling me you haven't learned your lesson?"

"Oh I learned my lesson," Dean countered. "Just not the one you wanted to teach me."

Zachariah stepped towards Dean menacingly. You instinctively stepped forward, more than willing to fight the angel to protect the man you loved. Dean placed a gentle hand on yours to let you know he wasn't scared.

"I have you exactly where I want you," Zachariah began. "I'm going to teach both of you a lesson until you get it through your thick skulls. Neither of you are going anywhere until you say 'yes'."

Dean's grip on your hand tightened and his mouth opened to give some sort of retort when you suddenly found yourself standing on the side of a highway. Dean's hand was still wrapped tightly around yours and a slightly confused Castiel stood a few feet in front of you.

"Excellent timing, Cas," Dean said in relief.

"We had an appointment," Cas stated matter-of-factly.

You chuckled softly and stepped forward to wrap the angel in a hug. He was slightly surprised by your actions, but he didn't pull away.

Dean placed a firm hand on Castiel's shoulder and offered him another smile. "Don't ever change."

You and Dean launched into the story of the last few days for you, and Castiel listened quietly.

"How did Zachariah find you?"

"Long story," Dean muttered. "But let's just stay away from Jehovah's Witnesses in the future."

You chuckled again and rolled your eyes affectionately.

Dean pulled out his phone and started to dial a number.

"What are you doing?" Cas asked.

"Something I should have done in the first place."

You smiled, knowing exactly what he was doing...and who he was calling. You were proud of him and you voiced the sentiment as soon as you were alone.

"Thanks, babe. Turns out you were right all along."

You grinned. "I'm always right."

Dean chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Alright sweetheart, calm down." His voice was light and teasing and it warmed you straight down to your soul.

"I love you, you dork."

He smiled and squeezed your hand. "I love you too."

You were both quiet for several minutes, just watching the road as Dean sped towards your next destination.

"It's still the apocalypse," Dean said suddenly.

"Mhmm," you hummed quietly.

"So you know...the world might still end."

"Hopefully not."

"Agreed, but I'm thinking maybe we should get married."

"What?" you said in shock.

Dean shrugged. "I'm just saying...you're my everything and I want everyone to know you're mine. Besides, if this world really does end, there's no one I wanna be with but you."

"You know, normally the guy gets down on one knee."

Dean chuckled. "I can do that as soon as I stop the car."

You laughed. "Typically there's a ring too."

He grinned. "Don't worry baby--I'll buy you a big diamond ring."

You smiled and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently. "I don't really need a ring, Dean--and I don't need you to get down on one knee. If you're serious about it, then hell yeah--let's get married."

Dean looked at you hopefully. "I'm dead serious, babe."

You touched his cheek with a smile. "Then let's get married."

He looked at the straight stretch of road ahead, not a car in sight. He leaned over and kissed you quickly, the affectionate gesture expressing his emotions better than any words he could have said.

When he pulled back to face the road, you leaned across the seat and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. Your voice was low as you said the words that had become a mantra in your relationship, "All my heart and all my soul, Dean Winchester. Always."

His smile warmed your entire body--inside and out. It had been weird hearing Future Dean call you his wife...but your Dean proposing to you now, it just felt right.

You rode the rest of the way in a happier mood than you'd felt in a long time. Dean's mood was lighter too, but you both knew it wouldn't last. There was still a lot of darkness to come, but you were both determined to make sure there were happy moments. After all, love was one of the things that made life worth living.

A short time later, you sat on the trunk of the Impala, watching the man you loved apologize to his brother. You smiled warmly as you watched them, overjoyed at the steps they were both taking to make amends.

Dean turned towards you and waved you over. You hopped down and crossed the short distance, passing Dean to wrap Sam in a tight hug. The much larger man returned the gesture, the tension easing from his body.

"Glad to have you back, Sammy," you said as you stepped back.

"Thanks, (Y/N/N)."

"We're getting married," Dean said suddenly.

Sam's eyes widened in shock and you nearly laughed at Dean's sudden admission.

"End of the world and all that," Dean said sheepishly.

You chuckled and Sam expressed his congratulations.

"No matter what happens," you said softly. "We have each other--all three of us."

Both Winchesters nodded their agreement and Dean slipped his arm around you to pull you close.

"To hell with fate," Dean stated. "From now on, we make our own future."

You leaned into him with a smile, appreciating the sentiment more than you would have just a few days prior. At the end of the day, all you had was each other and the love that bonded all of you together. None of you knew exactly what the future held, but you'd be damned if you didn't fight for a future worth living for.

#supernatural #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader smut #endverse!dean #endverse!dean x reader #supernatural smut

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naychuchu · 1 month ago

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sorry but i will never not choose louis. it’ll always be him.

#lua dipa #twdg louis s4 #louis the walking dead game #the walking dead game louis #twdg louis #twdg louis x reader #twdg #twdg s4 #the walking dead same season 4 #the walking dead game

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looveliaa · 4 months ago

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ACT 3 SPOILERS FOR ARCANE UNDER THE THREAD!!

jinx is not dead!!! here’s why (AND NO ITS NOT COPE>:()

1. vi’s reaction, why would she be so content if jinx JUST died, seeing as she was so upset when she thought she died

2. caitlyn was studying the place jinx died, showing the top of her bomb (purposely left by jinx to signal she’s ok???) and the ventilation system which matches up with the shimmer streak

3. the shimmer streak ofc. it’s brief but it’s there

4. the conversation with silco: he explicitly states “to break the cycle is not to die, but to have the will to walk away” she broke the cycle by walking away from vi, from everything

5. isha’s sacrifice : if jinx was dead, isha’s sacrifice would mean absolutely nothing. isha wanted jinx to live, that’s why she sacrificed herself for her.

6. the blimp looking thing at the end: in season 1 episode 1, powder says she’ll one day ride those blimp things, after showing the other implications, they ended it off with that same blimp she mentioned previously

we know the writers do things intentionally, these things aren’t coincidences they’re meant to be there for us to eventually notice. it will take a long time before we see anything from any of the characters again unfortunately but hopefully i can make some people feel better!! <33

#chitchat ༻♡༺#jinx x reader #jinx x fem!reader #arcane league of legends #vi x reader #sevika x reader #ekko x reader #timebomb #arcane

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sapphiresaphics · 4 months ago

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Arcane is an excellent litmus test for your media literacy. Not even joking.

Like I love Arcane, but it is NOT subtle. My favorite example of this is when Ambessa enters into Caitlyn’s room in Season 2 Episode 4. Maddie has been talking Caitlyn down and trying to convince her to call off the martial law and reestablish the council. Ambessa needs HexTech and she needs Caitlyn to get her someone who knows how to use HexTech. So she LITERALLY walks over to the fireplace and begins stoking the embers. She’s LITERALLY stoking Caitlyn’s rage and anger. It’s MASTERFUL storytelling and visual framing. Chefs kiss 🤌 10 outta 10!

You can call Arcane a lot of things… But SUTBLE? No… it is assuredly NOT subtle.

Which is why it’s hilarious to me when I see all these REALLY BAD TAKES from people who are confused or angry at the actions of characters or who really cannot comprehend why a character would do this or that. Which indicates to me that they are either not paying attention, or they’re really bad at understanding how shot composition, framing, dialogue, subtext, and everything else that goes into making media WORKS.

Vi is desperately trying to tell herself that Jinx is dead so that killing her wont hurt at much. You can tell this from the cracks in her voice acting, the way she can’t look people in the eyes when she says it, the way she can’t look at the bullet flying at Jinx, the way she IMMEDIATELY stops the second a kid gets in the way and doesn’t try to take the kid off. Like the framing, the line reads, her actions… it’s ALL telling you that when she says “my sister is dead” she is LYING TO HERSELF. It is NOT TRUE.

And then you’ve got people going on Twitter and Reddit and tumblr freaking out about “how could Vi forgive Jinx so easily? This writing is so inconsistent! Can’t they just stay focused? Why is it all so ham fisted? The plot makes no sense!”

And I’m just here like…. Are you fucking SERIOUS? Are we watching the same show? Are you guys really just this STUPID???

I love Arcane. The story is amazing. The characters are complex. The visual shorthand and framing is exquisite. The montages and animation are unparalleled. The story is nuanced and complex while being accessible to everyone, even people who’ve never played League of Legends before.

But subtle?

No. This show takes its message and beats you over the head with it like a BRICK.

How are people missing this stuff?

Are we that far gone as a people?

Are people today just not savvy at all when it comes to the media they consume?

Are people just this DENSE that they can’t read SUBTEXT?

#arcane #arcane vi #arcane caitlyn #caitlyn kiramman #maddie nolen #ambessa medarda #arcane netflix #arcane league of legends #media criticism #media consumption

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lesser-mook · 1 year ago

Video

Footage of Texas STANDOFF With 302k Migrants on US-Mexico Border Has Gon...

https://youtu.be/cL7X4cskd8Q

(shitty *melodramatic thumbnail aside- and brace yourself this is finna get deep, 90% of this is lore)

This is like The Walking Dead Season 4, but the Zombies came with bags and are given free resources after they invade. Literally a zombie horde forcing their way in, to consume resources that should've been going to Americans.

But this sudden surge of resources given to these aliens shows that the Gov. had the means to help Americans the entire time but chose not to, which we all knew already but it's confirmed by the same people that left us to burn.

(To clarify, this isn’t on the illegal aliens entirely, like ‘let’s dehumanize these people’ because of the dumb policies our “leaders” made

Yeah some of em are coming here not for some Dream but they want free shit because Biden is an agent, ie. Who allowed them to come in here in the first place? The Illegals aren’t actually taking anything by force-- they’re being GIVEN the motherload by your own Administration)

What a joke.

Every Empire has it's fall. America. Your turn.

And how we got here starts with the simple things, like relations, tensions between the power-houses of society.

The dichotomy, Man & Woman. 2.Two forces of nature, two pieces of an incomplete entity that is the “Hu-man”

The agenda is simple, it wasn’t quick, it was a slow burn: If these two pieces fit so well together that when they are getting along, things are great, community is stronger, the culture is healthy, values/norms/standards intact- Traditional family works...but the problem is

A civilization united like that well? is a lot harder to fool/control/manipulate.

So the agenda is simple:

Keep people fighting, invent more labels, enable toxicity/ hostility in the culture, propagandize with stronger signals in the music, movies, political spectrums = Separate men and women on a cultural level. Plant a disconnect and keep it intact.

Drive the sexes apart in the intangible sphere, thought, norms.

Propagandize & overstimulate girls with a crap-ton of unrealistic expectations of themselves and men.

Give women every incentive not to be responsible with their reproductive powers, to the point young men are stuck with grown children who are looking for Papa at Ages 19-35 to pay for everything and offer next to nothing of their own accord.

The world owes you for being born female

And when every woman is a special snowflake & pandered to, womanhood is trivialized, accountability becomes an option.

It’s why your culture worships “Girl bosses”, you call your adult females “girls” so casually, it’s casual condescension. Patronizing.

It is so casual- WOMEN call each other “girls”. Reinforcing a state of infantilism.

So a bunch of girls and yet you have no “Women”, America has stopped raising women years ago.

Castrate, degrade, bash and shame men to the point where young women are now stuck with Sub-Males who are out of touch with their balls.

America doesn’t make men like they used to, they’re too busy neutering them.

And then develop fetishes wanting giant women (aka a hybrid construct of mommy/female authority issues & Gynocentric society) to castrate, degrade, bash, and subjugate themselves- They developed a fetish where they castrate themselves in the exact same fashion society does except they depict actual violence happening. Manslaughter even.

Now, what do you call a condition where a victim normalizes the abuse as a coping mechanism? Stockholm Syndrome.

Macrophilia is just an advanced/tragic case of mass Stockholm Syndrome.

See psychologists aren’t allowed to say that, they stay very neutral because that’s what keeps them employed.

But I’m not getting paid for this- so there you go. Macrophilia and it’s mother: (toxic-gynocentrism/ not Women having opportunities-- but TOXIC Gynocentrism/Female Privilege) & it’s father (misandry) are all connected.

One big inbred family of dysfunction and societal collapse (which if you pay attention that’s what a giant woman mainly does, collapse civilization, cause pain, destroy, evil-

Something women are not, just to put that out there, because I feel it’s necessary or we’ve fallen so hard as a species, that HAS to be said now. Women are not the enemy, Women are not the enemy, Men are not the enemy, Women are not the enemy of Men.

So it’d be a good idea to stop emulating the hatred that’s implanted.

Macrophiles/ or Macrocreeps as I lovingly dubbed them- are literally/indirectly/ & repeatedly communicating that women will cause or are the collapse of civilization, women being empowered means women are enemies of humanity, women are evil- the same narrative on repeat)

NOW THAT- is misogyny, 100% learned, 0% nature.

If you were raised in a small town like Black Forest (Germany):

or a Mongolian Steppe Nomad life. Healthy upbringing, healthy-equal community for men and women, away from misandry & gynocentrism, unplugged from the Matrix/ aka The HATE-trix

-you’re not going to have this crap living in your head.

You just might even have a life.

It’s why this movie (The Red Turtle) is so poetic, simple and beautiful. it displays simply what life is without the bullshit:

Every time I watch this movie, I’m reminded what the “human experience” boils down to, as repetitive as it is, it really boils down to having each other, family.

See people were freaks back in the day, but within reason, this macro-cancer wasn’t really popping back in the 70s when men and women were for the most part in an okay place.

You get more of a rise of this kind of thing when things are bad between men and women, it’s really a mirror of HOW bad it’s gotten in society or in your own childhood, your mind, your subconscious where seeds are planted.

When men & women are happy on mass, when the culture has shows like Good Times, The Cosby Show, Living single Roseanne, Full House- positive culture, when that is the repeated narrative, positivity, you tend to get positive signals implanted in the people watching it, namely children.

Fact is, you get an infection in the body when there’s a problem, not when it’s healthy, plain and simple.

See you don’t simply feel the need to replace women with a demonic sociopathic mile-high she-beast or in a neutral sense you need to have Mommy looming over you & make you feel like a loser to feel secure because the giantess needs to be MAN enough for both of you combined: (Hence, women are stuck in a generation of SUB-Males who lost touch with their balls and a lot of the time women have the carry them both)

And this has nothing to do with confidence, you can be confident and have no balls, want to be mistreated or not know what being a man is about. There’s a lot of confident losers on this planet, do not confuse the two (Confidence vs Security) together.

vs when you have actual healthy relationships with women throughout life here in reality or a society that doesn’t tell you you’re less than dirt or outright communicates you are stupid, inferior, and something that needs to be fixed or stamped out by a more competent woman presence-

Hellywood definitely hasn’t been doing that, TV shows definitely hasn’t been doing that, Culture, various IRL situations (some caught on camera) definitely hasn’t been communicating that.

One just can’t help but share that misery with the world & await a “congratulations” from fellow cult members for posting the exact same thing for the 15′000th time for the 13th year in a row.. An example of misandrist propaganda birthing a mini-industry of misandrist propaganda. (Though women are victimized as well in the fantasy, lesbians can be macrocreeps too, and the opposite spectrum exists *Giant males* but let’s focus on the popular one, women.)

The compulsion comes from the fact that it’s a generational conditioning operation. I personally think it’s unintentional, there’s no way this shit was calculated, and macrocreeps are too small a group to even be measured as a problem but the problem actually is what they represent, the question: “Where in you is that fantasy coming from?”

What they represent, and what they’re literally showing us (Cry for help / Red Flag) in the content is the concerning factor. And how *consistent it is.

A normal person gets tired of watching the same movie, playing the same game, hell- some people break up from boredom.

Most fetishists (especially macrocreeps)- DO NOT evolve, grow up or move on, they will stay on the same radio channel for- EVER. I repeat: FOREVER.

The same horror, the same scenarios but from new artists (so much talent wasted on nonsense, it physically hurts me), the same-

“me male, me insignificant, yes goddess”

disrespect/Misandry narrative on repeat and repeat and repeat. As per design.

It’s literally a case of an internet economy where nothing changes, like it’s recycling the narrative that their culture convinced them to be true.

And most will eat it up for years to come (Literal Matrix tier enslavement of the mind)- as if following an installed directive, robotic. If only that level of commitment was shown to marriages or idk actual women?

But nobody tryna have that conversation, a she-devil in your head who’s entire function is to hurt you & belittle will get more of your time, your skills, investment, devotion than women here in reality, hilarious.

(And don’t be fooled, these are everyday people, some with families, these aren’t neckbeards but men & women with serious issue, and it’s about time we stopped pretending being broken is a virtue or some kind of badass badge when at the end of the day what you’re producing is blatant misery.

It’s just ironic the level of commitment given to some lala-land kaiju, a paragon of misogyny that will NOT give you anything back in this life but wasted time, is still more effort than they’d give to women with something to offer)

And it’s even more hilarious that American birthrates started the drop just around the70s to 2020, now that is very interesting to me. Seems like the 70s was just around the tipping point for everyone over in America. Including Biden, because his stance on borders was verrrrry different way back when:

Funny how the media has all the resources to ride Trumps D 24/7 but they conveniently leave out this little gem.

.Biden In 2007_ “No Great Country Can Say It’s Secure Without Being Able To Control Its Borders”

source

And so, again, women are now stuck with a good chunk of house broken Man-children or live in a culture that cultivates this attitude where some men in a bizarre sense want to worship women to a disturbing degree and want their mother to domineer over them and tell them how insignificant they are as society successfully programed into them (rarely is it from one experience), thus women are shipwrecked in this generation with a good number of American males-

-who don’t know how to be or afraid to be men (not men’s fault). And yet the consequence is they turn to fantasy, Anime, fetishism- escapism or any escapism where they condition themselves to have unreasonable expectations of girls and women’s behavior, bodies & themselves.

All to overcompensate what they couldn’t or CHOOSE not to step up to be in reality as men.

Keyword: They <choose> fantasyland over choosing to be better, which is 100% in their control. They’d rather play victim in a fantasy where they lose control instead of growing a goddamn pair.

Product of the times.

Modern day wars on masculinity is what happens when we are taught women have a right to say “no” (True) but as a society we never tell a woman “no”. (A problem)

A woman happily serving the husband is toxic & repressive, but “Happy wife, Happy life” is normalization of men suffering in silence as long as their domestic adult-baby is pacified.

Notice how I’m throwing haymakers in both directions, because either way you slice it (and yes, it does go both ways) on either side it’s not efficient nor sustainable, as we’re now seeing. Everyone actually, because the Americans aren’t the only one’s suffering dropping births.

But it’s only okay when women get the better end of the deal. But the punchline is women aren’t receiving anything good from an atmosphere like this.

Do women today feel safe? Do they trust the men of their country? (that is a big one), Does their culture prepare girls or pander to them to keep them in a box? Because padding women’s ego’s is a subtle form of control by giving women the illusion of agency.

That’s the ultimate fallacy of a Giant Woman being used by Feminists as an empowerment symbol, and Fetishists as a symbol of power: When in fact, a woman that big has even less control over her life because her interaction with civilization (and all the resources they have that she NEEDS from care to tampons) is now limited. The gigantism is fallacy in itself.

The illusion of control.

Inflating the importance of a woman’s “independence” from men in society (when it’s not dependence to be with a man, it’s coexistence)

Some society shame the egos of men because they are afraid of what men are capable of when things go wrong (Shootings, R*pe, murder).

When all that needs to be done is to teach boys & men to regulate and channel their ego instead of snuffing it out, teach principle, not hedonism.

Abusing boys, drugging them up to stay still & smothering masculinity because the result is that a lot of men now think they have no power and some believe & revel in the narrative they should have no confidence or power and only women should be allowed to have an ego & overwhelming advantage (Gynocentrism).

When it's just another perpetuated narrative (harming women & men) that men should be nerfed because they're a threat and not women because-

women aren't a threat. Apparently only in a fantasy are they anything close to a danger.

Exacerbating a woman's ego because you or the system presumes they won't ever do anything about it, zero threat.

That’s why American culture is biased toward women so hard: They don’t take you seriously.

Misandry is when the village fears men

Gynocentrism is the result of underestimating women's egos, underestimating women, painfully so.

Which is also why these macrocreeps use the fetish so they can fabricate a woman with near omnipotence over the “tiny”,

Some psychologist taking on macrophilia theorize (paraphrasing): ‘Macrophiles seek to create women with overwhelming power in light of society lacking female empowerment’...... uhhhhhh excuse you, where have you been in the past 15-20 years of American pop culture & real time events?

A “LACK” of Female empowerment? What?!

Women are in fact doing better than the fellas.

This is a brutal form of gaslighting harder than a politician.

And you want to know the most insulting part? Their assertion It’s conceivable to an extent but they never dig deeper.

Example: Most of these qualified people will use the “lack of female empowerment” point but rarely do any of them mention the rampant misandry in society & the culture inflating women’s egos, more so the normalization/glorification of male expendability as a logical alternate or logically the primary reason why Macrophilia has taken root in this era specifically to glorify what? You guessed it Glorification of male expendability and inflating the hubris of a woman.

Coincidence, it’s all coincidence.

But you see, when you say men wanting to be destroyed is because of gynocentric society lacking female empowerment: That’s another way of saying:

It’s not the fault of culture putting women on a pedestal at men’s expense as to why men developed stockholm syndrome where they also put women on a pedestal at men’s expense, even to the point of desiring their own oblivion- #Deflection

No instead they assert or suggest women aren’t being gassed up ENOUGH!!!

So it’s not about men & women being culturally (& possibly at some point physically or emotionally) abused and propagandized-

let’s make it about women not getting enough pandering, reinforcement, benefits, exceptions, compliments, priority, priority priority, priority. PEDESTAL.

(I think you get it, and I also think you see the problem. Men ARE ALWAYS AT THE BOTTOM, even in a situation where they are the focus per the fetish & might look to these psychologists for answers, somehow these people still make women out to be the victims anyway because society isn’t doing enough, so women deserve more more more.)

THAT right there is the freaking problem, not that women are involved in the conversation, but the fact that men are shelved yet again to make it about women.

But so many go to these pages for answers to be met with enabling the problem further, thus the source of the problem is lying in the place you go to get answers, how ironic.

The dishonesty with some of these professionals is astounding, and you know what? I don’t think they’re doing it on purpose, that’s the scary part for me.

But yes, I do believe a lot of these people are holding back information or a degree of transparency to prevent from seeming like a persecutor.

Listen, I get empathy, you can’t just come at people any type of way. But if we’re going to get to the bottom of this, we have to stop holding people’s hands. The truth doesn’t exist to breastfeed you, the entire point is to enlighten, teach, and if that involved discomfort that means it’s working.

And saying essentially ‘women deserve better’ is why men glorify women destroying humanity is just signaling more entitlement, toxicity, excuses, zero accountability.

And worse? Enabling people to worship Anti-Humanity obsessions.

This isn’t about accountability of women, not this time, Macrophilia wasn’t created by women, it was created by the overall culture, the village, the atmosphere that enabled female privilege, how matriarchal society is despite how patriarchal civilization is or was, but society? Is very matriarchal, Gyno (Women)- Centric.

Namely the people on top that own these companies, these news, media platforms of all types, owning everything we see (global too)- that are pushing the narrative.

Then we wonder why so many ladies are infantile and panic whenever asked “What do you bring to the table?”, this is not women’s fault, mind you.

How are women supposed to answer the question, when they’re taught that they have all the answers, they’re bosses, they’re in charge, they run the world, the future is female, girlpower, #girlpower, #GIRLPOWER, empowerment, ass-kissing-

WOMAN WORSHIP culture. (Macrocreeps anyone?)

That’s what’s pumped into the average Americano lady like crack, like being reliant on the world to tell them they’re awesome. And then they grow up (physically), trained to be reliant on external validation for life-

A form of control over a woman’s mind, not fantasy but here in reality.

Spend a lifetime with a phone in your hand, depending on anon’s to signal they want to sleep with you instead using those hands of yours to actually build something or spread something constructive, like the truth, or a song, or a story, an empire, create something, anything other than your Two-Millionth selfie for the day.

That’s the sick joke: It comes off as America’s boner for Female Security when it’s female subjugation/pacification, on top of male subjugation/castration. Both parties are trivialized as a result. Nobody wins, nobody.

Everyone’s a prisoner. That’s the point.

A giant 5′000ft tall woman destroys civilization, kills everyone.

She laughs about it, gets off on it, and then what? She’s left stuck as a giant, no grocery to shop from, no one to love her, no one to talk to, no dental care, no resources, no infrastructure, no friends, no home, no support system, she’ll starve, she’ll dehydrate, she’ll get lonely, she’ll die alone. No fucking point, that’s the part of the fantasy these muppets very conveniently leave out, reality. Strength for days, but zero power.

The natural consequence of the fantasy emulates reality. Nobody wins, nobody. Not even in fantasy.

No intimacy, just horror, ugliness, death, destruction and emptiness.

Because that’s what women are, amiright boys?

The common theme? I repeat, Nobody wins.

It’s so closely similar in both fantasy & reality, the parallels are blood related (Hence my mother & child analogy).

Propaganda is scary like that and moreso predictable, as are fetishists.

We underestimate the effects of what children internalize (regardless of how minor the experience is) & regurgitate it and the fact that we don’t stop doing that emulation when we become adults.

It’s how we read rooms, social cues, our lovers or dangers, develop traumas.

We see, then spread the message. Whether it be school, a cool line from a movie, a song stuck in your head, an insult that sticks with you, someone intimidating you, threatening you, or you being threatened by a misunderstanding, a compliment etc.

No difference.

We need less female empowerment, and more mentors.

Respect to women as humans first, and not singling them out constantly as “first woman to do-” something a man did 75 years ago. Patronizing women and making them like being a participation winner.

Mentor girls of womanhood as a principle, aka accountability, protecting your reproductive powers, not giving it away.

America panders to female ego but does not respect womanhood.

Society failed women and men by convincing us women are the exception when they actually deserve less- until they’re willing to contribute something beside an open hand in a relationship.

You don’t get to win by just showing up.

women need to learn what earning a man’s time, money/ His life, His sacrifice,

What earning his LIFE for hers really means.

Women need to learn what it means to earn that shit, I swear to god, a man’s life is so trivialized now, women don’t even think about what a big deal it is for man to just pay his life as a toll for hers to go on 5 more seconds.

It’s disgusting how overlooked that is, but I keep hearing “As he should”, WHOO buddy. Americans are beyond lost baby.

But you see in 15 years or less that’ll be considered “hate speech” or a thought-crime, or perhaps this entire rant would be worth an insta-trip to ban world.

because #MenAreTrash is trendy that’s fine 100% males don’t have feelings right but the same time we want them to be sensitive, but not too sensitive or else he’s a man-child. It’s never enough.

#MenNeedToStepUp we can agree on 100%, but #WomenDoBetter or #WomenNeedToEarnAMan is misogyny

Everything is misogyny when name calling or witch-hunts aka “Cancel culture” (how it’s called today)- doesn’t work.

Right, keep that up. Doing a good job so far, lmfao.

But gee, I can’t figure out why the birthrates are falling

& men are flocking to other countries for real women? When there’s plenty in America, far in-between but they do exist.

All we wanted to do was just treat men/husbands/fathers like second class citizens, like idiots- so horrifically mistreated that the goofballs went & created a fetish/Cult where they actually enable each other to want to be treated like second class citizens.

ZERO connection, all coincidence!

Wanting Women to be their gods and mistreat or destroy them and the whole of civilization: um wow.

Did you even have a mother? I mean My God, what happened?!

You know, ZERO red flags there. Nothing to see here. Everything is fine. Go back to deviantart, enjoy the genocide.

No btw, I AM NOT shitting you, this is real.

(And the access to A.I art made it SOOOOO much worse, now these lovable dorks can just spawn the most horrific shit with zero effort now)

If you didn’t think that group’s issues weren’t that deep? (because naturally, they’re just minding their business beating off/worshipping human genocide- until you realize how comfortable they’re getting, too damn comfortable, normalizing the most anti-human shit, it makes you question if you’re even awake sometimes)

Trust me, a good majority of them don’t even know where their obsession came from--- AND that is the point of propaganda, subtle, like a socio-cultural virus. A weapon for your mind. neurological malware.

I repeat: Neurological/Socio-Cultural Malware for your mind. A prison for your mind. It used to be heroin, still is for some, but now fantasy is the new drug, no drugs in your system, not “harming anyone” but that justification to keep doing it is why the prison is that much stronger. You tell yourself there’s no problem because no one’s hurt, you’ll keep doing it for the rest of your life.

The change begins when we allow ourselves to stop lying to ourselves.

And again, to no one’s surprise (Brain mappings show fetishism or sex addiction is parallel to addictive habits like drugs, alcoholism, etc.) So no, not harming anyone (until it does) but yourself through re-wiring what your brain imprints on, I believe it’s through firing signals via the synapse endings at climax, like you’re physically making changes to your brain on a microscopic scale.

That is precisely why breaking the habit is difficult and the more rewarding, with any bad habit btw.

Fact is, Nobody knows exactly when a virus gets in your body or your pc/phone machine, but when it’s in, it’s on you to do something about it or cope with it by not coping at all.

Superboy-Prime’s level of petty is not even close to an average GTS NPC, and ironically he could solo 99.99999999% of them all, even the god level one’s. And he’s smaller than most of them-

So yeah, despite having the word in their mouths 24/7, macrocreeps don’t really understand what “power” is, lol.

Even if it’s a gentle scenario or the cringe “unaware” crap (where the appeal is more manslaughter but the excitement is she’s doing it unintentionally *yes, society failed this hard*)

The visual point of a woman being bigger by that much is visually signalling: “superiority”, female supremacy, gynocentrism. Males being lesser, weaker, vulnerable, under control, a security/self-esteem/ ultimately a Life-skill issue- that is the point.

It’s always a “power-” dynamic scramble, it’s so toxic and dysfunctional.

To belabor the point, It’s no accident that what American society (from movies to articles) is pumping into you guys, is exactly what these cats worship with a level of dedication that makes Christians look like amateurs.

They could legitimately begin a religion, I’m actually genuinely surprised they haven’t by now.

In this context though, in Fantasyland where genocide is a goddamn game, that’s the entire appeal, #SizeDifference #Macro #Giantess #GiantessCrush #Sizeplay SizeSIZEsizesizesizesizesizesize, it’s really unhealthy.

Hence Fetish hence “Obsession”, that’s what fetish means = You have nothing better to do.

This is why macrophilia is so unique though, solely because of how relevant it is to this era, the socio-cultural relevance.

And the reason for that (again) is this toxic gynocentric era in the west/ First world countries in general enabled it/ birthed it/ cultivated it in the first place.

Hear me: Macrophilia (One obsession) didn’t cause the problems between men and women, it is simply one of many manifestations/ & ultimately a spawn of these problems.

It’s literally an example of what your civilization did horribly wrong whilst trying to empower women, you left men behind.

Worldwide issue btw, Macrohphilia is not exclusive to America, neither is toxic-Gynocentrism. But America is Gold Medal champ in making their Men are 100% aware they are expendable to society, made to feel inept or stupid, should do more, here’s a superhero movie showing a guy being cool but IRL we’ll treat you like garbage in policies & law making.

A lot of Japanese are into MacroCultisms, to no one’s surprise.

Not in the 50s to 70s, but during the 90s, post-Internet 2000s era is when it really sparked, now all of a sudden we got a huge influx of goofballs wanting women to commit mass genocides on entire cities (Which involves children & babies- #ThisIsFine) or men the size of germs shrining women for existing, living on their bodies like Demodex (your hair mites)... just the most mind-numbing shit just to feel like you’re worthless, on purpose.

Kind of like the narrative privileged society pumps into you? #FutureisFemale (How inclusive)

Or articles propagating that men are “Falling behind”, any & every excuse to plant seeds of disconnect and potential resentment, always negative.

The goal is to propagandize female supremacy to either frustrate men into resenting women (some of MGTOW), turn them paranoid (Anti-Woke Tards that complain about any movie with a female lead or women doing anything cool or competent), or straight up break them like dogs & the victims will ask for more (Macrocreeps)

or turn them indifferent, numb to even want to say or do anything about the problem. Men who unplugged and absolutely do not care anymore.

A lot of Men have been whipped & brutally trained by their own culture to be and somehow want to be second/third class citizens in some respects. and you’ll have attention seeking narcissist women infiltrating these communities garnering a following calling themselves “Goddess- [insert name]” , absolute silliness, just the most infantile stupid crap you’ll ever see.

The strongest degree of secondhand embarrassment I’ve ever experienced, it’s like watching younger siblings just ruin....everything they touch for no reason.

These women banking on the insecurity of thousands of men who just need help or a fucking hug.

And the simple chemistry of men and women boils down to: SEX, connection, life, be happy. That’s it. That’s really all people want.

How do you complicate that, this badly? And it NOT be an artificial catalyst that caused it, life was not designed to be this convoluted & silly. This is what happens when you make relations between men and women more complicated than necessary.

Otherwise, frankly: How does genocide correlate with sex.

Vore? Still cringe, but at least you can loosely correlate that with oral sex, digestion (psychotic) but believe it or not it’s wanting to be in the womb again.

(Male or female) it applies, yes brains are stupid like that. This is why what you ingest through the eyes to your soul is important, most people don’t even know where the impulses are coming from but WELP *wank wank

KNOW THYSELF. FREE THYSELF. Ya’ll better watch The Matrix again and really listen to what it’s telling you, not “was” telling, what IT IS telling us, still today.

“A prison for your mind.”, notice how The Matrix in context was a “Fantasy” land/ distracting from the real war going on outside of the fantasy, outside of the prison.

We better catch what these films are communicating.

Back on topic, how does being abused/bullied/destroyed/digested/ all of this crap by women- relate to sex and making love and NOT be related to some psychological struggles or a mass installation op. Even if unintentional.

Propaganda, abuse, societal/generational neglect. That’s how. Genocide ain’t it boi, something upstairs went sleep mode & it needs to wake up.

“The sleeper must awaken.“

I’m not smart at all, I just know what shit smells like and I’m more than willing to step on toes, and happily brave a ban or 2 if it means saying what apparently no one wants to say because we have this unspoken rule that all kinks are sacred & immune to judgement.

HA!, I don’t know what planet you came from, but that’s not how life works buddy. Whenever I tell fetishist this, they shut down completely or unravel, their confidence just goes away like fart.

Why?

Because they rely on the world saying “Sorry, carry on.” Nope! That’s not how life works. A fetish is not a baby, so adopting it gives absolutely nothing to us.

Really, all we have to do is pay attention to the world in real time and the rest sorts itself out. But our everyday can muddy & blur the lines, I get it, and that’s part of the game. Blue Pill baby, it was never about being asleep, it’s about being distracted.

“You need to see.“

- Jamis (DUNE PART TWO)

Some of these hombre’s aren’t even abused as kids, sometimes all it takes is one awkward moment with a girl overpowering you verbally or physically, a moment of vulnerability, or you get yelled at by an adult woman, or you see abuse or a woman having an overwhelming advantage in a movie and society does the rest with crap like #GirlsRunTheWorld over and over and over again-

No strong male role models to build up a healthy ego, or no dad at all, or a competent father, or even a big brother or sister, then when your confidence isn’t properly built (by your parents or environment) in time when you see something that makes you feel inferior or put-off and your mind can’t register it properly.

Like psychological indigestion and or in layman’s terms “Intrusive thought” that manifests into something it shouldn’t.

So it doesn’t bounce off as it should, or make you mad & you reject the negative signal.- instead it actually sinks into you, you internalize it. And it sits there, and sits there, & you keep seeing things in shows, feeding that seed.

And through a coping mechanism post-puberty where your hormones turn off your intelligence entirely (Yes, Sex chemicals actually make you stupid by design), where you then normalize the toxicity because it’s women doing it, and women are attractive. So genocide is a good thing if a woman does, because women are hot.

You’re horny now + the epic scale of giant women having near omnipotent control over your fate provides unrivaled excitement & dopamine levels that no woman could or would even want to measure up to (Cause it’s goofy af, Gulliver’s Travels #headass).

Then the newborn fetishist propagates #Giantessisms over and over and over again with the unbridled freedom of the web- ready to act a fool.

And the ever so convenient echo-chamber of fetish spaces where everything you do and say came straight from Christ himself, where you’ll receive ZERO challenge. (Another part of the problem)

Indulge comfortably until someone, eventually goes against the grain in 4-15 years, roasting it- and then your defenses activate. Because how dare they insult something that provides absolutely zero value or tangible substance to your life amiright?

But my oh my, I don’t know where it came from, I guess it’s always been there but It’s pretty much my personality and ”a part of my identity”....it’s a “hobby”

-some say this crap, of course on threads where the likeminded are & will upvote everything they say, naturally naturally.

Challenge is their Kryptonite. Questions make everyone queasy.

Painting women as inhuman psychopaths is a HOBBY. Riiiiiight, Okay then.

Pretending in make believe land that you’re a tyrannical burden to the society that would bend over backwards to protect you at the expense of men, any day of the week.

You actually want to be an evil & mortal danger to people if means your fragile ego getting a stroke from being a couple meters/Mile taller than everyone else, for a sense of control you obviously can’t manage to obtain as a competent adult here in reality. That’s part of your “identity”? Oooooooookay then.

Definitely not overcompensating for anything.

But don’t judge them though, you don’t want to hurt anyone’s fee’s fee’s now do you? You don’t want to be a meanie or a bad person.

Because saying nothing & pretending “This is fine” has worked out so well for mankind thus far right?

Just ask Japan 2023 (Age of consent raise in that year, look it up. *If I talk about it, that’s going to be another essay, let’s stay focused:

Sexes Disconnect/Gynocentrism/Gynocentric-Fetishism/Birthrates/Illegals/Decline ) 🚨

Cycle of toxicity birthing more cycles..

The biggest woman you see first/imprint on in life is ideally your mother-figure.

These cats just want mommy, thus from the place of a child (thus small like a child) so macrophilia has some PeterPan syndrome-isms in it’s core, thus to no one’s surprise this is a very cringe case of some suspended development because for most, all of this started when they were at their smallest & VULNERABLE to begin with.

“Vulnerable“, something they want to feel. That’s part of the high. “Helpless“, you’ll hear that term a lot in their subtext, it’s like a religious mantra next to “insignificant“, they LOVE that one, holy shit is that one a cult favorite line. (Z from ANTZ #headass, “You’re right Z, you are insignificant.”)

I’m telling you, all you have to do is pay attention. How our brains work is not that complicated especially when what these innocent goofs choose to share with us is literally spelling out the picture- How can I tell? Consistency and the fact that they NEED the world to know, like a cry for help:

Except they’re getting likes & money, and not a fuck to give to provide a solution vs exacerbation.

And no, unlike what some of these exploitative women will say: NO providing an outlet or safe-space for these little angels is not therapeutic.

Therapy is an actual solution, letting it go is a solution. Indulgence? Is like dumping a truck full of “happy snow” in a rehab center and then calling that “therapeutic”.

The women arguing this want their meal tickets to stay delusional, stay deranged and remain imprisoned. Money baby, it’s all money.

This fetish became an industry, like many tend to do.

The repetitive nature of the “content” is too consistent, Artwork evolves it’s narrative. Art changes.

(I repeat) But this? It stays the exact same, same narrative, same bloodshed, same dialogue, all that’s different is the production value and who it’s coming from.

And yes, all of this & others mentioned prior contributes or related to the birthrates issue (China, Japan, Russia & others suffer this too), thus this illegal invasion in America.

All of it is connected, all of it, this isn’t the usual rambling session or tangent. There’s a point to this entire lecture, this is actual lore for the movie you’re living in.

The Twilight Zone episode that will not end even after you do.

These are real people, it’s not doing America any favors pretending these clowns/more-so the implication and subtext of their issues or more importantly THE issue doesn’t exist.

It’s the same with Japanese men and their infatuation with Anime culture & how that mega industry and so many other factors are causing Japan’s own falling births, social shut-in’s, etc.

We can’t just ignore this crap because no one wants to be “that guy”, screw that. Nothing’s gonna get done if we’re stuck in our own little worlds.

Doesn’t make sense to have the Internet and be this connected & still be so distant at the same time.

We gotta at least address the roots of the issues while having fun-

That’s the operative concern, what caused the phenomenon in the first place, how do these obsessions work, why, and where is it coming from?

And why is it almost prophetic? Like a warning.

This isn’t about Macrocreeps being the problem, they’re a result.

This ain’t about coming after them, though it’s been high time somebody put their ass on blast, so long overdue, holy shit.

Because if you step back and really look at the concept of a giant woman committing genocide because her job sucks or she needed to bigger just to feel good about herself instead of just getting her life together?

It’s pretty silly lol, infantile even.

But this is really about the subtext, that they are living breathing red-flags/reminders that your culture is failing and it’s failing everyone.

Woman is god, male subjugation good, women destroy civilization (including killing kids & babies by the thousands apparently, so marcocreeps are indirectly beating to slaughter of children, yaaaay) and yes, some also sexualize children too, casually.

Japan would be proud or as of 2023, maybe not? Lol.

Wash rinse repeat, it’s never enough. Men, humans, animals, life needs to be red paste on the bottom of a woman’s feet or else the itch isn’t scratched.

For an average macrochump to feel some sort of sexual vindication in the context of the fantasy: Women. The ONLY natural threshold of human life, absolutely need need to trample, torture, and destroy life.

That is indicative of something very concerning.

This is what I mean when I say Macrophilia is at it’s core: Anti-Human

That is straight misogyny, and I’m one of those people that hate the overuse of the word “misogyny”, I never use it but here I am using it (If I’m not mistaken for the first time in serious context) because this is actually that disturbing.

Click “upvote” on the psychopath content (”content” lmfao, more like commissioned propaganda)

comment for more, make video games repeating the same exact, and I do mean SAME EXACT narrative.

(Yes, these goofballs make games & comics *they’re shit storytelling btw, absolute garbage, it’s not even appropriate for ironic cringe, it’s just bad*, it’s not creative either. But the lengths they go to to realize the exact same talking point they’ve heard a million times? The sheer determination to want to be demeaned, disrespected, & bullied by women and girls? That’s the impressive part. Again, I sincerely doubt they’d put that same effort in their kids. Just saying.)

further internalize male self-hatred as you were programmed to do so. Follow the script. Question nothing. Consume. Consume. Consume. Indulge, sink, drown.

You’d think they’d get bored of it, or maturity would fight it’s hardest to tame that beast of a brain in one’s cranium, and fit some sanity in there. God forbid

All in all, The American Culture state has weaponized women against men for decades now- so the fetish itself is not surprising or a shock.

Men or women wanting to give up “control” for a sense of security in being ruled or abused in every way possible by a giant entity (male or female) sounds ideal for a (giant entity) state/society/government that literally would love love loooove for men (aka the first & last line of defense of civilization) or women (first, second and last line of defense to the children AND the only natural threshold of new life) to bow down, and want to be slaves.

So (in general) if your protectors are too busy kissing the ground, who’s protecting you?

It’s why so many women are wondering what happened to men? Where did the men go? Why aren’t men performing?

To put it simply (fetish or no fetish), a lot of western men:

They’re broken. Tamed. Clipped. Sterilized. By the same entity that tells you you can have it all “The Party”, The collective, society, the entity, the giant.

Because there’s a lot more men committing self-termination than women, look it up. They’re suffering.

So most, not all- But all in all, women need better “uplifting” messages and the men are in serious need of society giving a crap about them.

It starts in the home, both the solution and the problem starts at home and the village/society. Because parents can do everything right and society will undo 70% of that work.

I’ve said all this before, and I will keep saying it until I’m dead & probably still talking & ranting from beyond the grave.

If I personally wanted to "RIP” a country, “If.” Theoretically

I would convince the men that being a man is toxic, that they shouldn’t be men, to the point where they actually want to give up their manhood.

Enable a superiority complex in the women regarding the men, to keep them in a constant state of resentment & entitlement and they don’t even know why. And the men are so passive & broken, they won’t challenge the women unless pushed, and when pushed, they will be frustrated, & what could result in a solution will just deepen the resentment on both sides.

And while one group is insufferable and the other one is groveling and pathetic and angry, or they just fight each other- The children are now exposed.

Corrupt the children, you take that country’s future. Checkmate.

Same with race.

Not a nuke, not poisoning the water- but poison how the people see each other.

Corrupt what they believe until they believe in nothing at all, not even in themselves, let alone their Gov., let alone their Homeland. Poison the culture. Keep them fighting, so when I do pull up on their doorstep, it’s too late.

[Destroy the traditional family first, the pillars. Trivialize values until you stand for nothing: Destroy the country]

Convince the Protector Class/Men they should want to be destroyed by the group of people they should be protecting in the first fucking place: That is the power of propaganda people, corruption of the natural instinct. Anti-Human.

Size is not power,

controlling what you see, influencing what you should think, what you don’t believe, who you hate, how to hate, what to hate, what to see as good, even now influence what you obsess over- To control how the world changes, controlling the triggers to your mind, propaganda, knowing you better than you know yourself, how to speak, what to say, weaponizing the mind against you, propaganda, that is power.

Message = Power

Always has been.

This is psychological warfare in real time. Brain-Malware, this is not a joke.

And trust and believe, I actually do have better things to do, I only talk this much because I actually give a hoot.

It’s just a crime that professionals with lengthier credentials WILL NOT tell you any of this.

Propaganda is CONTROL, and can convince you to give yours up.

Propaganda hurts you and conditions you to want to be hurt by the other half of humanity who’s entire instinct is community, birthing life, emotional propensity strength & nurturing. Things that glue civilization together.

Things that are trivialized by civilization but things that civilization needs to stay intact, that only women provide in a way only women (as a collective) can. That’s womanhood, but you’ll sooner hear about empowerment on a corporate ad on Youtube to sell some damn soap than these companies tell you (what I just said) that truth because people actually NEED to see and hear this.

Hear me out, women are physically softer, designed to be more pleasant and lovable to appeal. Even an average woman’s voice triggers pleasure chemicals in your brain.

But somehow the popular obsessive scenario in the cult is women destroying everything, with a smile, with pleasure, and obscene satisfaction. Absolute demon-spawn who’s birth is a mistake.

Sooooo the overtone being, again, that a woman with any power- is a threat to civilization? A threat to men.

Wow, that’s how you feel? Lmfao! Again, smells like misogyny. Smells like an implanted narrative.

See, majority of the “GTS” (Gratuitous Trivial Silliness) -producers just conjure their content to receive likes, appease the intrusive thoughts living rent-free in their head and most importantly validation for their Misandrist-macabre & maybe money from the fellow members.

The actual overtones of what they’re spreading out in the Human races digital continuity (Inter-Nets) and how that insults/slanders women or what that says about them because that’s coming from their own heart & mind about women- that will never sink in for them to devote 5 seconds of self-awareness.

Or they did, and just don’t care because they know nobody replying will say anything less than “More please!”

Too much dopamine addiction to the validation to properly think about the subtext or what they’re actually communicating by drawing/shooting/programming the same crap over and over again.

A beautifully implanted rotted seed (on part of the powers sabotaging men & women), twisted, horrifically sick joke.

Completely Anti-Human narrative, because who even portrays women like that, all women wanted was Equality. Why do we absolutely need them to loom over us like overlords when they actually just want someone to love them, listen to them, and see them? Flaws and all.

That’s all women want. Women are not a mystery, they’re just made to be complicated by the media & hacks that dictate the prevailing narrative that articles spread like wildfire, because women being complicated helps the disconnection. It romanticizes it.

Tell someone a lie enough times then it becomes true.

Some bro’s propagate “Woman with power is a man’s undoing” / “The threshold of life being the merchants of death” for a living and sleep at night without considering “Why is that coming from inside me” ?

Nothing.

This is why accountability, judgement, criticism is necessary.

It helps prevent society from becoming a mass asylum (where it gets to a point where a woman who steps on toys for a living is actually given an interview, yes this happened).

It never “hurts anyone” until it does-

Just. Ask. JAPAN.

(’2023 Japan Age of Consent Law change’, look it up and look up why they changed it)

Some commenter said something simple yet true on the same video where some goofy attention seeking woman who sells videos of herself stepping on plastic toys & sells said footage to mouth-breathers, she ultimately claimed “I’m a Giantess” (*nice job parents, good to know where Americano Tax dollars went)

And the commenter didn’t insult her, they didn’t say anything wild, no essay, no lecture, not even something I personally expected, they said simply:

“Western society has derailed.”,

that’s it. It’s not profound, but it’s so candid & haunting.

That stuck with me.

Because that’s the point.

And then if you’re not dealing with human footstools who want to be literal pets for giant-women, you have the other end of the spectrum: Man-Boyos who are actually toxic, the kind that grooms, unwanted advances persist then calls you a “bitch” because the situation didn’t play out how it did in his head, the R*9ists, harassers, stalkers etc.

Plenty of confidence, but misplaced, no humility, no maturity, nothing intelligent to say but talking the loudest. Can’t tell you how many times I almost threw hands with those types of dudes.

And in-between, you have the normies just trying to keep their heads down, live out whatever’s left of the “American Dream/ Theory”, racking up 50 exes every 6 months trying to figure it out because the only legacy society has to pass down to you is failure.

Consider this hookup culture where women are expected by a lot of men to be LVL99 Sexperts but if she’s had too many partners she’s considered damaged/used up/monkey branching by MGTOW groups...who in concept should be a good thing, some good messages, but overall just boil down to divorcees & bitters bashing women while sprinkling “male empowerment” on top of it.

Again, we need less empowerment and more principles. With principles, you won’t need someone rubbing your belly telling you you’re a special girl or a special boy.

She hits 30, she’s over the hill when actually 30-35 is physically prime time to have babies. 20-30 should be young women figuring it out (mentally, existential), as with any adult.

Or women told/encouraged to “experiment” or made to think they can have the swingers life at 19 and then settle down when it’s convenient.

Which they can, however, consequences don’t take a break because you’ve been taught to think that’s having fun- Then they’re worn & torn before they’re 25, just way too eager to sleep with 70% of America, like slow the hell down, jfc.

Have a laundry list of expectations for a man, but who you are doesn’t match half the good things you expect from him- How is that a recipe for success?

Just having your cake, eating it, and choking on it on both sides.

Both sides have podcasts asking “what happened?” or pointing the finger to the other side, when in reality--

We’re not enemies nor meant to fight in nature, powerful women are not a threat, civilization NEEDS that. We need more women that earn their power, & have something offer.

A woman with advantage is not something that will threaten civilization, that’s advancement you goofballs lol.

Ad proud men aren’t something to keep caged, broken and exercised.

We’re not even designed to fight each other. This is precisely the point as to how forced this all is.

We’re set up to be fractured and wedged from each other in a cultural sense. (because obviously people are still bumpin hips & having kids but some are not raising em worth a crap or training them to be useful or struggling to give them something good, or raising them up right just to be corrupted as soon as they leave the house, sometimes even earlier. some sects of Society are not even hiding that they are “coming for your kids”)

“Everyone knows what sex is, a lot of people know how to fuck. Nobody ‘makes love’ anymore.”

SO point being, finally, again: Propaganda is POWER. Propaganda is control (Not a new concept, it’s been said before). It creates delusions/& apparently fetishism. It creates false realities, conflict, disconnect. Lies. Lies. Lies. Propaganda is CONTROL.

“power & control“, two words macrocreeps obsess over in fantasyland- same two concepts that propaganda is meant to take away from you. That is NOT an accident.

Drive the American sexes apart, division makes for a weaker people, weaker people are easier to control, birthrates dropping since the 70s (Not an accident, look it up & it’s got nothing to do with women going to school and getting jobs)

And now Biden or the powers above him are making up the difference with an influx of illegals to compensate for what Americans are not birthing because of the disconnect and all the various side-effects of that and the propaganda.

American Feds has always been lacking, but this level of incompetence is not accidental. It’s sabotage. And it’s not new, it’s no different from how dope is implanted in Black communities so the community eats itself alive, remaining behind and seemingly primal.

Think about it, why would we need a New World Order, if one of the most iconic Empires on the planet is successful, healthy and thriving economically?

The answer is, you wouldn’t need a NWO if the U.S. is King or a threat or taken seriously.

(Even if you’re not the biggest fan of American history, or the current reputation they have with their poor wokeness & political embarrassments. Do not underestimate just how many countries look to America for reinforcement and an example & always have.)

So to fix that, you prevent The United States of America from EVER becoming a threat again.

And instead of picking a fight on the outside- infiltrate their political parties, infiltrate their culture, their pop-culture, propagandize what they watch, what the masses internalize, break the family down, drive apart men & women, promote alternative lifestyles, make truth an “insensitivity”, speaking truth punishable by legal persecution or being banned from social media (which is akin to erasing your existence in the modern age), and plant agents in the Senate that will (by vote) prevent any progress for the American people:

(Think in Newspeak or be banned for ‘violating community guidelines’, you vulgar swine) aka

“Social Media” aka 1984: The Prototype

“there is no war in ba sing se”

Pay off the leader to literally allow illegals (that coincidentally involve a good number of your own nationals) into their country and make the legal citizens who are already desperate for better healthcare to then pay for the toilet-paper the illegals wipe their ass with.

The illegals aren’t the problem, Americans are letting them in there. Look up what one of China’s border installations look like, it’s a FORTRESS out of a James Bond game.

Russia’s border doesn’t play either so why is America expected to be the fool?

Blatant sabotage. It’s all connected. Biden himself in ‘07 said a great nation can’t have weak borders (paraphrasing), now he’s changed his tune when what he said was 100% true.

Birthrates resulting from the disconnect, the disconnect resulting from propaganda, the fetish being the manifestation of the culture’s declining climate & hostility toward men and boys & trivialization of women & girls, dehumanizing humanity; As well as a symptom that the propaganda is working way better than intended.

OR? the scary part? It was calculated. (doubt it tho)

PROPAGANDA is power!!! Control how people perceive reality & themselves, you control the direction of that society.

Stepping on cities doesn’t compare to making a NATION eat itself over 50 years or less, it’s not even close. The slow knife cuts deepest, always have.

(Notice how i’ve belabored & repeated some points throughout, that’s a methodology of propaganda, bombard you with the same narrative so that the narrative sticks, I did that on purpose just so you get a sample of how this machine is operated. Repeat exposure is form of conditioning, hence fetishism, repeat exposure. Repeat the same message. Repeat the same message.)

And because it’s working, Americans are likely past the point of recovery, social media is a powerful tool as well as an effective distraction.

If it took this long to decline, imagine how long it will take to repair the damage, and Americas will never be allowed to fix anything, not before another tragedy conveniently strikes or another reason to fight each other conveniently arises, more distraction.

The problem starts where the solution does, in the home, in your culture. In your mind.

America needs more people, but the world is rotting, the times are going in a direction not suitable for children, or even if having/affording children is smart. You have a newborn that needs formula, you can’t afford insurance but your taxes are feeding an illegal’s kids.

Who in their right mind would reward a society with another mind to corrupt, another slave to bleed dry and it won’t even help you raise the child before trying to feed other people kids- who trespassed to begin with and our own homeless are being exiled from cities like the trash you walk on?! *ERROR404*

But we have 50MIL+ for trespassers.

It’s lose- lose for the modern Americano.

And don’t think Trump is the answer- while it is convenient that his trial happened just at the right time for this election to pop off (ideal distraction from something else going on in the world) these people will fight & debate on TV then have orgies on islands while you’re arguing with people you don’t know online because you think your political tribe is the answer to the world’s problems. When it’s all just manufactured chaos.

Make promises about things you can see, like “build the wall”, but bringing the country together? Bringing men and women together? Better healthcare WITHOUT subtext loopholes to fund backdoor deals in other countries?

These antagonist corporations causing this disconnect in advertisements & movies, will they be falling in line to help your people?

Do the bloodlines that OWN these corporate giants give a crap?

If that isn’t the argument in the Presidential debate, you’re voting for an agent. (And I keep saying “Agent”, because I repeat: WATCH THE MATRIX again. Hiding in plain sight baby, in plain sight.)

They do not care, they’re reading scripts, on orders. They promise you policy, when what will save you is unity in the culture. Literally just people getting along.

Help the culture maturing, growing up (pun intended, headass) , it will never happen.

Why would Americans want that, why would Americans ever want the only real progress that will save their country? Unity. Cooperation. Coexistence.

Apparently everything’s going great in America, why would people want actual progress that would fix everything, why would you ever want an actual solution when you can keep being promised one by people who don’t live in your community and own Islands to hand down to their great great-grands and yours live off of tips.

But you have 50 million+ big ones to spare for illegals? Hm, you cats got yourselves a paradise eh? Ready to fight everyone’s wars & fix everyone’s problems but your own.

Let them all in to keep families together, and drive your own people apart through movies, ads, games, articles, etc..

Your Gov. (and the powers above them) are giving Palpatine a run for his money when it comes to this Chess game play, my lord.

Ya’ll have been getting played, and played hard.

That’s the only “Domination” happening here, the powers playing on the uninitiated, broken, lonely & longing and above all: distracted.

Subliminally training so many to submit, hunt for likes from the collective, obey TOS or be erased (prototype martial law), and ironically want subjugation ie. train people to want what’s coming anyway.

All “they” (the token “they”) prevailing party- had to do was slap a woman on it. Genius. And the resulting atmosphere is hurting men and women, genius.

Life was not meant or designed to be like this. This is why there are problems.

Reverend Mother from DUNE PART TWO said it best:

“-there are no sides.“

#youtube #illegal immigration #wake up #government #corrupt #women #men #society failed you #women are not the enemy #men are not the problem #rant #lessermook #nature vs nurture

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