#there have been spoilers released so if this is how you found out about their evolutions i am so sorry

[bluemerakis]

────────── ᝰ bluemerakis ༝༚༝༚ ───

❝ this one’s on me ❞

─ ۶ৎ ─

pairing ୨୧ dean winchester x fem .ᐟ reader

warnings .ᐟ s4 .ᐟ spoilers, cussing, dean’s really just suffering omg, and he’s also like, secretly smitten over reader; small age gap, a slow-burn build up to car sex, grinding, nip sucking, oral f receiving (he’s such a tentative munch pls), unprotected p in v, fluff. lmk if I forgot any :))

synopsis — dean’s physically free of hell, but he finds that his own demons have never really left him. having already made his fair share of bad decisions, he figures that it couldn’t hurt to make one more—the pursuit of you.

word count ~ 10.5k (i’m done apologising y’all know how carried away i get 🤟)

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Rowdy occupants teetered throughout the local bar, their cheers and protests slurred by this evening’s two-for-one special on all drinks. The bar was lively enough on most nights, but always in a manner sophisticated enough for Dean to enjoy a glass or two in comfort. Now, the space had become a raging fest of body against body, and the music was so loud that he could feel the ringing of his ears pressing all the way into the back of his eyes. The abrupt change in atmosphere felt personal, like it’d been specially planned to further tug at Dean’s gradual undoing.

His elbows were propped onto the bar top before him, fingers restlessly tapping at the sweaty, glass keep of his beer. All around him, barmaids wove frisky lines to tend to drunken groups seated along either side of him. Occasionally, one of the girls would attempt to cast their hook into him with an overzealous offer to top up his drink, and a candid nibble of their glossed lips, but he’d nicked their lines at the ready.

Any other night, he would’ve jumped at the opportunity to show those gorgeous barmaids a time to remember, but as of now, he had other company to entertain—the unwanted and persistent voices in his head. Sounded insane, huh? Quite frankly, he was starting to feel the part. It was making him a bit of a downer, and that wasn’t much his style with the ladies.

Dean’s head lolled between his hunched shoulders, where he glimpsed his lonely reflection in the bubbling amber of his drink. He realised he must’ve stood apart from the bar’s bustling and cheerful atmosphere like a sore thumb, sat in broody silence as he indulged his second beer with a hefty frown on his brows.

He could have scoffed at the idea of being alone. If only onlookers had the ability to peer into the depths of his tainted mind, then they’d know that he was anything but alone.

True silence was a luxury Dean had long since been robbed of. It was a concept that held hands with peace, but there was no peace to be found in a soul as wretched as his. He didn’t deserve it—not after everything he’s done.

Those years he’d spent wrapped up in hell had remade his psyche in all the worst ways. And even now, as he walked amongst the living once again, it felt as though a fraction of the underworld had carried through and engraved itself in his very DNA.

He felt tainted by its touch—heard the way it mocked him with the voices of all the strangers he’d tortured to spare himself the same turmoil. It looped in his mind like a sadistic ear worm. Every hour, every minute, every damn second of the day. And to top the icing on the screw you cake? He had no idea how to make them shut the hell up.

It hadn’t always been that way, though. The first time it happened had been a rough week or so after his return. He’d taken on a rather grim job with his brother—a chain of victims that had been tortured to the death by a rogue demon. Dean had let out a wry scoff when Sam had first told him the details. He had a hunch on what that was about.

The demons hadn’t had any say in Dean’s release from hell. If it were up to them, they’d have kept him in a glass display for all eternity. When Cas had pulled him from the fiery depths, the angel had just about pissed off every single demon down there. They knew they couldn’t lay hands on Dean and drag him right back down to his eternal misery, so they’d taken to doing what they did best—causing havoc. And they’d found just the way to make it personal.

Each victim the brothers had found had been tortured in a different way—methods that were all too familiar to Dean. Methods that he’d invented. He’d had years to become creative. Each sighting had mortified him, and he’d had to swallow several times to suppress the bile adamantly reaching up to strangle his airways. What hurt him the most, though, was having to put on a detached facade for Sammy. His brother had no idea what Dean had been through down there. . . what he’d done down there—and why should he? He’d be more than eager to offer up a steaming fest of pity and guilt if he knew the truth, but Dean didn’t deserve any of that. It was all his own doing. His choice.

Cas might’ve liberated him from his physical hell, but he’d never truly been liberated from anything. Most of the suffering had always come from within, anyways.

They’d never found the demon responsible for the murders. It almost made Dean believe that he’d reverted back to his primal nature and killed all of those people himself. He’s hurt people before, so what was stopping him now, right? Maybe he’d done it in his sleep. Maybe, as soon as he’d let his head hit the pillow and dull his battered mind into a much needed deep sleep, all the worst fragments of his subconscious would pull together into some twisted alter ego that came to kill at his unspoken will.

Had Cas freed an innocent that day, or had he just unleashed another, wretched demon into the world? Boy, if it was the latter, Lilith surely had nothin’ on him.

The voices had started ever since that disturbing case, and they were yet to leave him alone.

It’s almost as if that cheap, goddamn knockoff on the real events of his life had been last switch that needed flipping to tune his mind into hell’s channels. Now, he heard them all—the voices—at every frequency and at every volume. And it didn’t matter how hard he cranked up Baby’s radio, their agonising pleas would always pull through in a haunting backtrack. One time, while he and Sam had been on the road, the voices had grown so loud that it made his eardrums feel as though they’d implode. It had hurt like a bitch, pushing him to the brink so that he’d lose control of the wheel and swerve into oncoming traffic. Thankfully, dear ol’ Sammy had been quick enough to grab ahold of the wheel and steer them clear of the looming truck they were en route toward.

The truck’s bellowing hooter had set him straight again as it whipped past the rear, almost as though it were the stern chiding needed to pipe those asshole voices right back down. His brother, bless his soul, had offered to drive them for the rest of the day, quiet concern alight on his features. But Dean had declined almost instantly. Sam hadn’t pushed to know what had overcome his older brother in that very moment; he’d known enough to pin it onto the aftermath of hell.

For the rest of that day, the younger brother had said nothing about it, but he did cast a few, fleeting glances with those damned puppy eyes of his. Dean pretended not to notice. Furthermore, he’d chosen to forget that that instance had ever happened. Fake it til y’make it, right? He didn’t need to look worried—didn’t need to make Sammy worry.

How his brother had grown up unmarred by Dean’s personal shit was beyond him—but he was thankful for it. And he’d continue to withhold that burden from his brother for as long as he could. This hell business? It was his alone to bear. Sammy needed no part in his suffering, and Dean doubted his brother could do much about it, anyway.

Man, the younger Winchester could do no wrong. It almost sickened Dean to know that they shared the same blood. He supposed it created a balance in nature, like how a coin had two sides—one lucky, and the other anything but. It wasn’t hard to know which side was his. Wasn’t much fair, but which aspect of his life had ever been? No matter. For Sammy, he’d keep on flippin’ that damn weighted coin if it meant that he could keep his brother safe.

Dean shifted atop the uncomfortable bar seat and sniffed away his restless thoughts, bringing the thawed beer to his lips. His nose dipped into the glass as he downed an eager gulp, the lukewarm beverage engulfing his tongue with a warmth he would’ve rather claimed from a skimpy barmaid. But alas, he’d made himself the promise to keep any and all contestants from playing this whirlwind of a game that was anything remotely related to his life.

Was this how celibate priests felt? ‘Cause man, it sucked. Not that they’d know the feeling of that, either.

He lowered the partially emptied drink back onto the bar top with a bitter scoff, eyes downturned to where he twirled the glass base within the ring of moisture it had bled onto the wood.

“Something funny, or have you just finally gone insane? Called it, by the way.”

Now that was the last voice Dean had expected to hear tonight. And in a bar, of all places—somewhere your holier than thou self had once sworn to never set food in outside of hunts. Granted, you were probably just being dramatic, but the thought still amused him.

He needn’t turn much to witness your figure. You slunk into perfect view as you took up a seat beside him. “Fancy seein’ you here,” he greeted through a lazy half-smirk, lifting his glass in a one-sided cheer.

You shot his drink a pitiful glance before returning his curious stare with an amused smile. “And I’m sure the bar hates to see you coming,” you retorted lightly, averting your gaze as you lifted your hand to wave over the bartender. “Whiskey, neat, thank you,” you said sweetly once the man had approached.

Dean risked a quick sweep of your figure—adorned with a dress so simple and casual, it shouldn’t have beckoned for his attention the way that it did. But honestly, this was one of very few times he’d seen you in anything other than your hunting or roleplay attire. And to be a little more honest, it was a view he could get used to watching.

Your head swivelled to face him for a brief second, which was enough to pluck his eyes away from what could be considered leering, if he’d made a point to stare any longer. And he was oddly tempted. But you quickly turned to face the bartender once more, initiating friendly chatter while he poured your drink with an extra chirp to his tone. You tended to have that effect on people, making bonds both meaningful and meaningless wherever you trod. Shit, look at the way you’d so easily strolled into both Sammy and his life. He wasn’t one to let strangers linger around, but for you, he’d made some sort of exception.

Dean lowered his head to study his glass once more. It was a view he’d long since grown tired of, but it was for the best. He shouldn’t be looking at you like that, anyway. You were Sammy’s friend first, and with that connection came the unspoken obligation of keeping his destructive hands off of you.

Sam had met you all the way back college. You weren’t the brand of friendship Dean would’ve expected his former anti-hunting brother to delve into—being a hunter and all—but that fact had only been disclosed after an unfortunate day of you being caught in the crossfire of one of their cases. It was a day Dean had thought you done for, for sure, but then you’d gone and surprised the both of them with your hunter’s wit, immobilising the threat like it’d been nothing of a challenge.

Dean would never admit it to your face, but you were a whole lot more knowledgeable than himself and Sam combined—and that’s considering that his brother is a colossal nerd before anything else. Since then, you’d stuck around, always helping Sammy with the nit-picky bookworm bullshit that Dean had never had much desire to do. He’d thank God himself for the lucky find that was you, if the big man in the sky really existed to begin with. Even after having met the angels, who were by no means impressive (save the girth of their dick nature), he couldn’t be convinced that there was a God who’d sent them here.

His attention strayed back to you as you reached across the bar top with a cash tip in clutch, which the bartender drank in with slightly flustered eyes before refusing it politely. Dean found himself huffing softly at the sight of it—not long after he’d come in, he’d seen that same bartender lay a fit on one of the occupants who’d refused him a tip after wrapping up the bill. He could’ve guessed that the demanding air you brought to the place had something to do with it. You didn’t mean to do it—demand things your way—it was just a string of events that always managed to fall into place whenever you showed up.

It was a quiet allure you’d always had to you. Dean could call you a good-luck charm for it. It made him want to hold onto you, just a little tighter, but he’d be selfish to do it. And whatever found it’s way into his grasp always seemed to shatter.

You reached for your glass almost shyly, as though you felt some slither of guilt for not being able to compensate the bartender’s effort, before turning to face Dean more directly. You tilted your head in the slightest manner, free hand brought up to cradle your cheek in poise as you gazed at him. “What did you mean by that, anyway?”

He frowned lightly. “What did I mean by what?”

“Fancy seein’ you here,” you mocked in a tone far too deep. A shameless grin spread your lips before you lifted your glass to take a sip—your eyes holding a glint he couldn’t quite decipher. And he didn’t try to linger on your stare for long enough to find out. There was some pull to it—like a getting caught in the sea’s rip current, and it made him feel something he couldn’t quite place. Or wouldn’t place, for the sake of keeping things unattached.

He glanced off to the side with a simple shrug. “Nah, I mean, you’re always off chasin’ some fairytale with Sammy. Just figured the two o’ya woulda found a fresh tail to nip by now,” he said nonchalantly, glass brought to his lips as he took a tense swig that finally emptied his glass.

“Well, yeah, but it’s after hours now. And I need a break, just like you,” you laughed. “Besides, I think you of all people could take the biggest break from chasing anything for the time being—which I’m glad to see you doing, by the way.”

He offered a simple nod of acknowledgment before lowering his glass and swirling the beer around his tongue, racking his tired brain for the next thing to say. It irked him a bit. Part of his charm was that chatting it up with the ladies always came easy. Who the hell would be be without it? But something about tonight—about you—had him feeling like a gawking numb-nut with a desperate need for a wingman.

He swallowed his sip and cleared his throat somewhat self-consciously, finally mustering up the courage to face you again. You had your fingers wrapped around your glass now, your eyes narrowed in eager focus and the corners of your lips slightly upturned—all while you sat waiting for him in patient silence. A silence that had no reason to make him feel. . . anxious, but it did. Were you doing it on purpose? Did you even know what you were doing?

Get it together, man, you’re blowin’ it, he said silently. You always do. Where do you think this’ll go? Nowhere. It’ll all crash and burn. Burn. Burn, the voices taunted. They’d become far too comfortable in his head, and now they had no shame popping up during his any and every conversation. Whenever the hell they pleased.

Mouthy bastards.

He ignored their jeering and settled for poking at the past, hoping it would invite you to carry the conversation he was so clearly dropping. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I seem to remember you sayin’ somethin’ ‘bout how bars are home to sad men and madly horny men. So, that begs my earlier surprise that the Judgemental Judy herself showed up at the weepin’ whorehouse,” he said with a light chuckle.

You seemed more than happy to perk up at his teasing, a sight that made him ease off the clutch on his glass. “Well, maybe—just maybe, I have the guilty pleasure of making fun of sad sobs like you afterhours. I mean, the job gets so dull sometimes, you’ll forgive a girl for having a stupidly fun hobby.”

Dean narrowed his eyes slightly. “You callin’ me a loser?” He asked through a grin.

Your shoulders lifted in the most dramatised shrug you could’ve possibly mustered. “Dunno, Dean,” you sighed. “Are you?”

He shook his head through a weak grin—not as a response to your question, but at the way you always found it in yourself to tease him with thinly veiled insults. He could’ve gotten mad over it, but it had become something like a tradition between the two of you—the very soul of your friendship. Now, he’d let you compare him to every depicted loser in the literature of insults if it could have you both sharing a hearty laugh by the end of it. If it would buy him a second longer of your presence.

You can’t have her. Not yours. She’ll break if you touch her, the voices pressed on. He never could place any of them—not to a face, not even to a name. But he must’ve known them, must’ve met them face to face when they’d been strung up for a beating by a weapon of his choice. The voices were right, too. Dean could tell himself he was a blacksmith, that he’d have the power to handle you in a way that would only make you malleable without breaking. But at the end of the day, he always managed a slip up. He knew he’d swing a little too hard, or bend you a little too far, perhaps even just hold you with a little too much force.

He’d break you the way he’d broken everything else. The way he’d broken himself.

“Are you okay?” Your slightly concerned voice broke into the chasm of his torment, causing him to raise his brows with a growing awareness.

“Yeah, no, I’m all right,” he attempted to say casually, coaxing forward a smile to reinforce his statement. But you didn’t look convinced—and why would you be? You knew him better than that. If anything, you might’ve been the one person who knew him better than Sammy. Not because he’d necessarily allowed it, but because you were scarily observant. He didn’t like how vulnerable that made him feel, but he couldn’t deny the facts, either. And he’d rather be faced with the hard truths than entertain myths forged for his own comfort.

“Come on,” you sighed all-knowingly before your leg crossed over the other, your whiskey pushed aside as you leaned yourself in a little closer to him. “What’s wrong, Dean?” He held his breath at the sudden closeness, but he wasn’t fast enough to miss the sweet caress of your perfume. It wafted beneath his nose like a taunt, and it fuelled the voices in his head even further.

Run away now, Dean. Save her. You’re doomed. Don’t doom her to the same fate. Don’t be selfish. Those words bit at his chest. Shut the hell up, he seethed silently, but they’d never listened before, and they wouldn’t listen now. You can’t shut out the truth, one sniped back.

He turned his head to the side. “Nothin’s wrong. Been a long day, that’s all. Sammy’s been wearin’ me down with all the hell crap. I just need a damn break.”

“I think that’s what you call brotherly concern,” you said, inching forward in your seat so that you nudged at the corner of his vision. “Is it so bad having somebody check up on you from time to time? Can’t do everything on your own, Dean, even if you like to think so.”

Dean released his glass and pushed it away from him, wringing his fingers out before he began to play with his ring. How could he tell you—tell anybody that this was something he could only do on his own? There wasn’t a single thing you or Sammy could do. It wasn’t the sort of thing that the books you skimmed through for hunts had an answer to. Traumatised man struggles to confront his tainted past. Now that’s a book that might’ve come in handy. But he wasn’t about to take a stroll through the local library’s self-help section, and reading it would only feel slightly validating if it’d been assigned by somebody with the degree to back the premise.

Besides, even if he’d been willing to talk to somebody who could help him, he’d surely be given a one-way ticket to the looney bin after the first session. Which wacko got to spew tales about the voices in their head without waking up between four padded walls the next day?

Dean cleared his throat dismissively. “Hey, uh, how’d you get here, anyway? Sammy drop you off?” He asked, eyes still glued to his fiddling fingers before he lifted his head to try and scout out the bartender. He could use another drink to drown the nerves he felt lingering within, and hopefully also drown out the voices while he was at it. You know, kill two birds with one stone and all that.

“Took a cab,” you answered hastily—a clear indication that you had no intention of entertaining his bullshit small talk. “I notice things, you know?” You added more earnestly, something that told him he wasn’t getting out of this one so easily.

Oh, trust me, I know, he remarked silently. He could’ve said the same about himself, especially when it came to you.

For instance, he noticed the way you’d never been a big drinker—how you’d only order something whenever he did. Obligatory pressure? Maybe, but he also noticed the way you always ordered the same whiskey. It was a whiskey he’d chosen for you the first time you’d gone to a bar together, and it was the same one you currently nurtured so gently between your fingers.

He noticed that you tended to care from a distance that didn’t feel suffocating, like making him that piping hot cup of coffee in the mornings he’d be too tired to pluck himself from the sheets, or all the times he’d gone days without eating and then woke up to a breakfast you’d prepped and plated at his bedside table. Hell, even all the times he’d left the motel in a scramble and forgotten essential equipment or some personal belonging, and you’d been right by his side, calm as a cucumber while you procured the items from your backpack.

Even now, you’d come all the way out here to keep him the company he’d never asked for, but that you must’ve known he needed. It was slightly more transparent than the rest of your previous acts of care, but he didn’t mind it, especially because you never tended to hassle him about his problems the way Sammy did. Up until now, at least. It was the little things like that that defined you in his eyes, things he’d come to admire about you.

Honestly, when it came to you, Dean couldn’t do anything but notice. You gave him the sort of impression that there was nothing you couldn’t try and fix. But she can’t fix you, a voice barked at him. You can’t be fixed.

Oh, piss off, you ass-probing sons o’ bitches, he spat internally. I’m not tryna get fixed. He wasn’t naive.

He shifted slightly in his seat as he grew more desperate for a numbing release, his eyes searching the bar frantically. But the bartender seemed to have disappeared entirely, and he gave a barely audible huff at tonight’s rigged luck. There goes the fuckin’ rescue. If he had to endure whatever mushy heart-to-heart was about to come next, he’d rather have done with some more alcohol to cull the consequences.

Almost as though you’d read his mind, the glass you’d been savouring was pushed in his direction. He glanced at you with slightly widened eyes, then gave a tiny dip of his chin.

“Thanks, but I prefer mine on the rocks,” he said thickly. Nothin’ like an icy gulp to remind me where the hell I am. That’s right, Hell. You’ll be back there in no time.

“Oh, I know, but if we’re gonna have this conversation—and we both know we will, you’re gonna need something stronger.” You nudged your glass another inch in his direction, modelling a clear-cut expression that told him not to argue any further. “Take it. This one’s on me,” you added with a cheeky smile. It was on you, only, it hadn’t cost you a dime.

Dean watched you for a few seconds longer, his tongue poking through to drag along his lower lip in silent debate. She’s not going to stop. She’s going to find out who you are. She’ll leave you. Just like everybody else. You’ll be alone. All alone. Alone. Again.

Neither of you moved to claim the drink—you out of protest, and him out of something far darker. All you did was cross your arms onto the countertop as you shared his silence, watching him through those calculating eyes of yours that made him feel a little too seen. Just what was going on inside of your head?

“All right,” he relented, slowly reaching across to clutch the glass. He brought it toward himself before lifting it to you in good gesture. “Cheers,” he said, then with a pause, his head tilted in silent consideration. “Again,” he added wryly.

You gave a tiny smile of victory, and the sight made his heart skip a beat. He immediately dropped his attention to the drink, where he brought it in for an eager drain. But his hand hesitated midway when he spotted the evidence of where your lips had settled for its first sip—the coloured print of your kiss overlapping the rim he’d planned to taste just seconds before.

“What, a little lipstick scare you?” He glanced up in time to see your eyes lifting from the same print on the glass rim, only to fix him with a slightly daring grin.

“Nah,” he answered almost too eagerly. He could’ve cursed himself for acting like a rattled school boy. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a long, hearty gulp of the whiskey. It seared every inch of his insides for the entire trip down to his stomach, but the burn was something different and oddly welcoming. With a smack of his lips and a sigh of relief, he set the remainder of the drink down and flashed you a content smile.

Suddenly, you were leaning toward him, your hand reaching for his face. The sight made his heart race, and all he could do was lean back an inch in his seat, as though you had a case of cooties he was trying to avoid. “Hey, uh—woah,” he laughed nervously, and then he didn’t make any sound at all. Your thumb was pressed against his lips, but it didn’t hover for long before it did a brisk swipe and your arm retreated back to your side.

“Lipstick smudge,” you told him innocently, but he caught that delighted look on your face, and he knew then that you were perfectly aware of the effect you seemed to have over him.

Dean’s head buckled to conceal the heat in his cheeks—hoping that it hadn’t reached your attention the way everything you did reached his. “Yeah, well, at least buy a guy a drink first,” he chuckled hoarsely.

“Technically, I already did.”

He gave a series of minuscule nods that depicted his defeat. “Touché.” Technically, you hadn’t bought anything—you’d gotten a freebie. But he supposed it was the sentiment that counted.

“Anyways, as I was saying,” you continued your earlier agenda. “I notice things, Dean.”

She’s going to find out exactly who you are.

“Oh, yeah?” He muttered half-heartedly, the heat in his cheeks vanishing only to be replaced by a feeling of dread. His chin perked up when he caught sight of the bartender creeping into the corner of his eye. There you are, ya prick. He lifted his hand to wave the man over, before he finally turned to face you. “Like what?”

He knew exactly what, and so did you. Where to begin was the real question.

Luckily, the bartender appeared just in time to offer a preparatory interlude, which he gratefully seized at the throat. Turning to the man, he leaned onto the counter. “Hey, man, could you fix the gal over here with a. . .” He trailed off with a questioning glance in your direction.

“I’m good, thanks,” you refused politely, but Dean could make out a hint of impatience peering through.

He cocked his head slightly. “Suit y’self,” he murmured, then faced the bartender again to order himself another round to down after he finished the whiskey—drown your sorrows, or whatever it is they say. But your hand reached into his space with far more sense than him, silencing his impulse before his lips could even split to give the order.

“He’s good, too,” you told the drinks master, and the man glanced between the both of you before settling on you with a knowing smile and taking his leave.

Dean turned to you with a slight pout and a ruffled frown. “Man, seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously,” you retorted bluntly, hand retracting back into your own vicinity. “I’m not carrying your drunk ass out of here. And neither is Sam,” you added when Dean attempted to argue his brother onto his case.

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” he mumbled, reaching for the singular, remaining drink he was apparently being limited to for the rest of tonight. But he didn’t take another sip just yet. Instead, he used the glass as more of a coping device, his fingers wrung tightly around its fragile body. And he couldn’t look at you while he waited for you to say whatever it is you had to say; he wasn’t strong enough to confront that particular Pandora’s box head on.

“You haven’t been okay for a while now,” you began. His teeth reached to bite the already-raw skin of his cheek. “And I know that it’s because of. . . you know—” he did, “—the things you’ve been through during your time in Hell. I mean, I can’t imag—”

Dean already knew the ending of that sentence before you finished it, and all the spite he’d garnered within drove him to face you with unintentional hostility. “No, you can’t,” he snapped gruffly, but he came to regret it shortly after seeing the hurt creep into your expression. With a sigh, he turned away from your crippling stare, his head shaking lightly in defeat. “This is why I don’t wanna talk about it. . . you and Sammy, you can’t understand what I’ve been through down there—what I had to do down there.” Go on, tell her. Tell her about the monsters in hell. Tell her about the biggest monster of them all.

“You still need to talk about it, Dean,” you urged gently. He noted how soft your tone was, almost as though you were afraid to push him too hard, whether it be with your choice of words, or with a single, harsh pitch in your voice. “If not to me, then to Sam, at least. I mean, he’s your brother, I’m sure he understands most things that other people wouldn’t.”

“Nah. . .” Dean murmured, his voice trailing off as he picked at his battered brain. He brought the whiskey to his lips and took a sip, savouring the burn in his chest. He hovered the glass in the air. “Sammy. . . he can’t help me with this. He shouldn’t have to, anyway. I’m the big bro, I gotta keep my head on for ‘im, y’know?” He glanced at you finally, and he didn’t realise how shattered he must’ve looked until he saw heartbreak soften your eyes.

His attention flickered down to where your crossed arms faltered, your hand briefly reaching forward as though you’d wanted to offer some slither of physical reassurance, but something else had kept you from engaging. He wished it hadn’t.

“Well,” you murmured, that same hand rubbing tender patterns along your forearm. “You don’t have to keep your head on for me.” Dean glanced up at you in surprise. “You’d be stupid to try, anyway. You’re not fooling me, Dean.” You gave a light laugh of defeat. “You’re not even fooling Sam. But the difference is that you don’t have to share that burden with him if you don’t want to. . . but you can share it with me.”

Could he, really? He couldn’t help but feel as though once he did open up to you, you’d realise the true magnitude of his shit. Only then, you wouldn’t be able to back out. You were too kind for that sort of rejection. But you’d both become miserable, and he didn’t think he could do that to you of all people.

With a slight jerk of his chin, he said, “‘fraid I can’t,” and gulped down the last of his drink to flush away the guilt of the mere sound. He hissed through gritted teeth as he placed the glass down with a bang, something that caused a few loiterers to glance his way, but he ignored them as surely as he’d been doing this entire night. “We should get back to the Motel. Bet Sammy’s startin’ to wonder if he should give me a call and chew me out over missin’ your curfew.”

“Dean—” you started, but he stopped listening.

He reached into his jacket pocket and plucked out his wallet, fingers prying the worn leather to slip out a hefty note. He folded and plopped it onto the countertop, his chin dipping in a brief thanks to the bartender who’d begun to saunter over and claim the bill. “Thanks, man,” he murmured, rising from his seat as he buried his wallet once more.

When he did finally make eye contact with you again, you had this sullen look to your features, but he tried not to show the way it made him feel. Feeling guilty? Like a douche? A prick undeserving of her time? After she came out all this way to speak to you. Tsk, the voices sneered.

Piss right off to hell. You first.

“Come on.” Dean jerked his chin at you, averting his gaze almost immediately when he saw your eyes narrow. He half expected you to start arguing, or to continue sitting there in a determined protest, but much to his relief, you rose up before him in a nerve-wrecking silence.

He glanced back at you, noting the light shake of your head before you let slip a hopeless scoff. Before he had a chance to prompt you further, you pivoted on your heels and whipped off into the busy bodies suffocating the bar. Behind you, your perfume lingered like a tantalising trail of candy, one that he knew he’d have no return from if he followed. But he did, anyway—the same way Hansel did Gretel because something about you had always felt like the home he’d never had. Even if he might burn it all down eventually.

He kept you in his sight all the way until the bar’s entrance, where you both eventually slipped out into the cool, unwelcoming air of the night. Dean drew up beside your hovering figure, his hand brought up to cradle your back and guide you to where he’d parked the Impala. He tried to catch your eye to ask whether you’d like his jacket because he felt your faint trembling beneath his hand, but you seemed to stop noticing he existed. Maybe that was for the best.

When you reached the passenger’s side of the car, Dean released you to reach for the handle. It clicked open, and he widened the door with an usher for you to climb inside. But all you did was stand there, tussles of your hair carried in hypnotising whisks by the night’s nipping breeze. He caught the scent of your shampoo, the same one he often found himself breathing in too deeply whenever he’d man the shower after you. And he could still remember it’s name—some limited edition crap he’d forced himself to memorise so that he could find another bottle like it and gift it to you on your next birthday. You’d been complaining for a good month that your current one was running dry.

He didn’t much like the idea of gift-giving, it wasn’t exactly his forte. But he knew the way you and Sammy both lit up at the mere thought of it. Besides, he’d be rude not to return the favour after having received gifts for his birthday from the both of you. Who are you fooling, boy? The best gift you could give her is to get out of her life. Don’t bother playing pretend with anything else.

You finally turned to face him, which instantly halted any and all thoughts he’d slowly been drowning in. There was some new resolve furnishing your features—brows furrowed, lips slightly parted and nostrils flaring with the weight of your own thoughts. But before Dean could ask the first thing about it, your hands came to wrap around his jaw, your lips pressing against his in a firm kiss.

Your lips were so warm against his, so soft that he could’ve fallen deeper into their padding. And he wanted to, so desperate for their welcome that he had to bring his hands up in a gentle bracket of your neck to keep himself from falling prey to his deepest desires. He pulled his lips from yours almost regretfully, keenly aware of your lingering warmth. There was so much emotion brimming in your eyes as you gazed up at him, but he saw uncertainty glare the loudest. He wished he could’ve said something—done something to displace it, but he had to remember where his priorities lay. In keeping you safe. Away from everything that was him.

“We can’t,” he murmured softly.

“Why not, Dean?” You answered with equal volume. He felt your thumb stroke across his stubble.

His lower lip fell loose with a heavy sigh, his head buckling in your hold. “We just can’t,” he repeated.

He waited for a reply, for any sound that echoed your frustrated with him, but you said nothing as your hands fell away from his jaw. He was forced to release his hold on you when you backed away from him and ducked into the salvation of the car’s privacy, his hands collapsing to his side in regret. He lifted his head to the sky with a brief breath of strength before he reached to shut the Impala’s door and tensely made his way around the fore. When he slipped into the driver’s seat, you’d already taken to the view of your window, hand cupping your cheek as you stared at anything that wasn’t Dean.

Fair enough.

He got Baby up and running, carefully picking his way out of the bar’s crowded lot before they hit the road winding toward their motel. The drive’s scenery was quiet, a stark contrast to the earlier atmosphere, and it made the air between yourself and Dean a whole lot tenser. There weren’t many cars, or people, found wandering by at any point of the trip, so it truly felt like the two of you had been locked alone in a room to confront the unspoken elephant. But he wasn’t so eager to pick at that fresh scab. Besides, what else more did he have to say that wouldn’t end up hurting you?

It felt like a lifetime had passed when he pulled up at the motel, the lot desolate save another car somewhere down the line. You finally shifted from your position of gazing out the window, but it wasn’t to look at him. It wasn’t even to reach for the handle that’d free you from this suffocating place beside him. Instead, your head was turned forward as you gazed through the windscreen.

“You’re one stubborn shit, you know that?” You said suddenly.

Dean followed your lead and decided to focus on the bug stain streaking the windshield just above the view of his wheel. “Yeah,” he scoffed knowingly, his fingers restlessly tapping the wheel’s rim.

“You’re just so determined to let yourself suffer alone—as if it makes you righteous in sparing us the hurt. But in reality, we’re already suffering. I mean, we’ve all got our own shit going on, right? The only thing making it worse is that somebody we care about is going through something unimaginable, but we don’t know how the hell to help him because he just won’t talk about it. Because he’s scared about—I don’t know—making us accomplices to his problems, I guess.”

Dean’s head buckled to the view of his lap as he listened to you talk, gripping the wheel’s rim a little tighter as he strangled the emotion threatening to take ahold of him. He heard you shift in your seat, noting as your knees turned toward him for a more direct confrontation. He didn’t think he could endure your frustration for any longer without finally cracking, and that scared him.

“When will you stop being so selfless, Dean?”

He allowed that question to linger in the air. Him, selfless? He wasn’t sure he’d call it that. To tell the truth, though, keeping his mouth shut had slowly been wearing him down. And it was almost as though walling off both you and Sammy had allowed the voices in his head to get as bad as they did. He knew all of this, but still he couldn’t find it in himself to open up. He’d never been good with rationalising his emotions, or with asking for help to do so. After all, growing up, he’d had nobody to ask. So he’d done the only thing he knew how to—suck it up and act the steadfast parent so that he could take care of Sammy. And ever since, he’d never quite learnt how to step out of that role, or how to take care of himself.

“I guess I’m just not ready to talk about it, yet,” Dean admitted in an unsteady murmur. His lower lip began to quiver, and he hated the way no amount of clenching his jaw seemed to quell it.

The hand he’d hovered on the wheel moved hastily to wipe the moisture he felt brimming on the cusp of his eyes, and he swallowed hard to fight his urge to flee the car. There was a loud silence from your side that made his ears ring; he wished you would say something—anything—before his voices did.

“I get that,” you said eventually. It made him release a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Your hand came fourth to rest on his shoulder, which made him drew a sharp, shuddering breath, despite your warmth seeping through his layers in a way that should’ve soothed him entirely.

“I just need you to know that you don’t have to do everything on your own,” you continued. “It gets exhausting. Trust me, I’ve been on my own for practically my entire life before I met you and Sam.” You paused when Dean turned to face you. “You wanna know something? Humans weren’t made to be alone—to do things alone. We’ve never been strong enough. That comes back to bite some people in the ass, but I’d say for people like us, it’s a blessing. So count them, Dean.”

And finally, as Dean sat stewing in his vulnerability, held hostage under your intense stare, he understood what glint had been in your eye all along. He couldn’t look away from it anymore. As if you seemed to witness his change in demeanour, the hand on his shoulder began to trail down the sleeve of his jacket in a suggestive caress. It set a fire to his chest, one that made him breath a little deeper for the air you seemed to be stealing from his lungs.

“Listen. . . you’re Sammy’s friend,” he pushed out weakly, an attempt to reason against his pressing urges. He hoped that by saying it aloud, he’d be able to silence the part of him that craved the pursuit of you. But for once, amongst the many voices in his head, he could hear his own—loud and clear in it’s true hopes that you’d be braver than he felt and make nothing of his poor argument. That you’d be brave enough to give him the permission he’d been withholding from himself.

You gave him this subtle squint—he caught it briefly in the thinning of your lashes. And then there was the slight hitch in the corner of your lips. The sight made his heart flutter up an inch. For all the voices in his head, he wished he could hear yours right now. Did you want this as much as he did?

Eventually, he caught you leaning closer to his yearning self. “So?” You murmured, the challenge accentuated by the purse in your lips. “I’m my own person before I’m Sam’s friend. I think I’m pretty capable of making my own decisions and dealing with the consequences that come after.”

Dean’s lower lip sank open at that, his brows quirking on anticipation. “I can’t promise you that. . . this, whatever it is, will be an easy ride,” he said. That I’ll be easy to love, he added silently.

You fixed him a long stare, your lips pressed into a thoughtful line. “I told you, Dean, this one’s on me,” you murmured.

This time, he knew that you weren’t alluding to the drink.

You’ll regret this, the voices barked. That’s my own damn decision.

Slowly, he began to lean in toward you, holding your stare and feeling further encouraged by the eager glint that seemed to grow in their breath-taking depths. The voices in his head blared a united jest. She doesn’t want you, she only pities you. You’re going to ruin her, just like you ruin everything else. You think Sammy’s going to forgive you when you break his closest friend? Traitor. Some big bro you are. You’ve always been selfish. He pushed back a mental answer. Shut. It. They didn’t listen.

He felt his heart begin to thud a little harder at his chest, but he gave a hefty swallow to dampen the feeling, and before it had a chance to return reinforced, he pushed his lips to yours.

Silence.

For the first time in what felt like ages, there was silence. Blissful, unequivocal silence. As if your touch was the antidote he’d needed all along to quench the fire hell had set alight to his brain. As if you’d been the missing incantation he’d needed to chant to keep all his demons at bay. And it made him greedy—this taste of peace you seemed to offer him. So he claimed more of it, the kiss deepening as he brought up his hands to cradle both delicate curves of your jaw. In turn, your hands flew up to bracket his neck, before drawing sensual lines all the way to his nape. Your touch was as gentle as he’d imagined, and as kind as he knew you to be, and he craved more of it. More of you. All of you.

Goddammit, he shouldn’t, but he did. He was only human, after all—even if he was all the worst parts of one.

He pulled away briefly to take the view of you in, lips parted in a slight pant. You mirrored him well, the gentle glare of the lamppost light reflected across your slicked lips. The sight made him burn with a more feral desire. He just had to have you. He was far beyond fending off his selfish desires now.

“Dean?” You called softly, an unsure twinge to your tone. You must’ve thought that he’d begun having doubts about pursuing this because there was a sudden, anxious furrow to your brows. But your hands didn’t falter from his neck, and he sure as hell wasn’t letting you go, either.

“C’mere,” he breathed softly, releasing your jaw only to slide his hands down your waist and to your hips, where he settled a firm grip to encourage you onto his lap. You followed his flow so naturally, hands sliding along the toned slope of his shoulders to grip there for support. You manoeuvred across the conjoined seat and reached the first leg over his lap, which Dean cupped at the thigh to steady you onto him. “Yeah, there ya go, you got it,” he murmured encouragingly, and your other leg followed shortly after until you comfortably straddled him.

You tilted your head up to drink in the impala’s ceiling, which could manage a graze of your nose if you lifted yourself any further. “Bit of a tight fit, isn’t it?” You giggled, glancing back down at Dean. He wanted to bottle the sound.

“Hey, she’ll do plenty fine,” he chuckled huskily, his hands comfortably settled at the meat of your hips. His thumbs rubbed tentative circles across your clothed skin, and he watched the way your lower lip drew into a subtle bite. It drove him nuts. He found himself leaning up to reach for your lips once more, but you held him back with an index finger to his chin.

“And just so we’re clear, I don’t have a curfew,” you said pointedly. Dean knew you were alluding to what he’d said back at the bar.

His lips split with a thankful grin. “Hallelujah to that,” he drawled huskily before lowering his lips to deliver a playful nibble to your finger. You let slip a giggle the most bubbly he’d ever heard before plucking your finger away and replacing it with your hungry lips.

His hands found their way below the hem of your dress, where he rubbed a firm line up your thighs. The touch coaxed a moan from your lips, poured into his mouth like the drizzle of honey—he couldn’t help but lap it up. Your hands wandered messy lines up and down the expanse of his neck, even going so far as to tousle his hair. The stimulation drove him crazy and sent a jolt down to his core. The longer your lips spent entangled, the more he felt his jean begin to strain beyond his control—but he didn’t have much adoration left to conceal. If anything, he wanted you to know exactly how you consumed every part of him.

He pulled away from the kiss, chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wantin’ this,” he husked. “Wantin’ you.”

He could see the way the kiss had left you breathless, too, and strands of hair had fallen from the keep of your ears to messily frame your face. God, you looked beautiful. “Your damn fault for taking this long to pursue it. I’ve given all the signs, Dean Winchester, but you are as naive as boys come.”

He reached up to tuck the hair behind your ears, making a point to trail his fingers along the contour of your jaw as a knowing smirk felt out his lips. “Nah, just a good ol’ case of self-restraint,” he murmured.

“Oh because you know what’s so good for you?” You teased. Even under the dim lamplight, he could make out the rosy tint to your cheeks.

“I damn well do now.”

“Then show me.”

Dean grinned at your blatant challenge, hands moving to grab at your hips. He slowly began grounding you against his erection, which plucked from your lips a series of noises that began to grow more and more lewd with each passing second. He felt your nails digging into his shoulders, the padding of his jacket cushioning the sensation into gentle kneading. He couldn’t help but grunt with each blissful stroke against him—god, he could do this all night. It wasn’t long before you’d taken over the job entirely, your hips stirring back and fourth across his lap to a slow, tantalising rhythm that made his head loll back against the seat.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his teeth grit as he endured the waves of pleasure riding its way through every nerve of his body. His fought the urge to flutter his eyes closed, to drown in the darkness of his euphoria because there was no way in hell he was missing a single detail about you—lower lip nibbled, fluttering lashes, heaving chest, a show all for him.

“You like that?” You asked thinly, your eyes fluttering closed as you threw your head back with a single, harsh push of your hips.

“Like it? You’re killin’ me over here,” he pushed out—a gruff, strained sound as he battled the heat accumulating in his groin. The demons, the angels, every asshole out to get him could go stuff it. At the end of the day, it was you that was going to be the sure death of him.

You let out an impish giggle, your hands releasing his shoulders to plough through your hair in the most seductive manner you could manage. It made him clench his jaw, made his grip on your hips a little firmer than before.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he praised breathlessly, eyes fluttering through his lashes as he gazed up at you. You were mesmerising, in everything that you did. You didn’t ever have to be doing much for him to want to stare. Existing was enough. Doing more than existing was a bonus.

He saw the way you lit up at that compliment, and it made him want to shower you with many more like it. Hunting had its kicks, but fuck, this—you—he could find himself addicted. That should’ve made you dangerous, especially when you were all he needed to take to stifle the voices. But he couldn’t pull away from you now. He wouldn’t. In fact, it only made him want to hold onto you more fiercely.

Your hands reached back for the steering wheel as you sought out just the angle to intensify your movements, and that’s when you accidentally struck the hooter. The both of you jolted with the noise, which made your hands fly up to cup your mouth in both horror and amusement, your hips stilling against his lap.

Instinctively, both Dean and yourself turned to glance through the windscreen, zoning in on the door that lead up to the three bed motel you’d been renting for a good month or so. A few tense seconds passed, but the door never opened to reveal an inquisitive Sam, and you both let out with a breath of relief. You collapsed onto the crown of Dean’s head with a fit of laughter, practically hugging his head. He burrowed into your chest with his own chuckle as his hands dragged up your body to wrap around your waist in a hug.

“I’m thinkin’ maybe we should move this party to the backseat,” he murmured against you.

You pulled back to face him, hands entangling at the nape of his neck. “I think that’s for the best,” you giggled, leaning down to place a tender kiss on his lips. He loved how gentle your touch felt, like he was being admired more than desired—something to savour and not to lap up like a greedy, guilty cheat meal. It made him feel valued, and he’d take every damn second of this night to return the favour.

He received your kiss eagerly, eyes falling shut as he basked in your soothing warmth. He found himself breathing a little deeper, your scent streaming in to envelop him further in your essence—as if he craved to be remade in your image. Then, much to his disappointment, you pulled away and left his lips bare as you began to shift from his lap. He watched as you reached past his torso to bend yourself over the seat, and then with a few noises of effort here and there, you heaved yourself over—your flailing foot nearly striking his eye in the process.

“You good?” He called back, twisting in his spot to catch you sprawled on your back along the seat. Oh, you were comfortable, all right.

“Just get over here, Lover Boy,” you giggled, hands grabbing the empty air.

Dean chuckled and shifted onto his knees with a grunt, carefully reaching over the seats to place his hands on either side of your torso. He got the last of himself over so that he towered over your waiting figure, the necklace permanently wrung around his neck slipping his top to dangle toward you. Your eyes latched onto it curiously before you reached up to hold it between cautious fingers. He half expected you to ask about it, but instead, you released it and wrapped your hands around his neck, as if nothing other than him mattered in that moment.

Before he knew it, he was pulled down into a kiss, and he leaned down even further to get lost in the taste of you. His hands lowered along your body to find the hem of your dress, where they fastened around the material and began dragging it up and over the curves of your legs. When he’d gotten to your torso, he broke off the kiss to lift himself a fraction, your hands coming up to aid the removal of your dress. He slipped it over your head and tossed it onto the floor before moving to shed his own jacket and layered shirts. The clutter of your shoes falling to the floor sounded some ways behind him, and he took a moment to do the same, shrugging off his boots into the oblivion below.

He took a moment to glance you over, almost naked save the pretty set of lace underwear. He’d pictured this moment far too many times than he’d like to admit, and now he drank in your every curve, scar and blemish, and marvelled at the soft sheen of your skin to the point where he hoped he’d come to memorise you. Somewhere in the mix, he picked up the sweet tang of your lotion.

“God,” he pushed out absentmindedly, his hands moving to rub soft lines down your waist.

“A believer now, are we?” You poked, your back arching an inch off the seat as you bathed in his endearing touch.

Dean jerked his chin. “I mean, come on,” he grinned, doing another sweep of your body before he leaned down to litter soft kisses along your neck. Your head caved further into the seat, broadening the horizon for his appreciative lips to explore as they pleased—and they did.

He drew passionate lines all over the curve of your neck, even managing a sneaky trail up to your ears, where he nibbled lovingly at the lobe. You giggled, the sound pure music and bliss to his ears. He wandered all the way down to your collarbones, experimenting with light nibbles along the tender anatomy before he soothed it with a slow kiss. You let out a passionate moan that spurred him on, the strain in his jeans becoming far tighter than he could bear, but he couldn’t stop himself from exploring every inch of you just yet. He intended on pressing all of your buttons—desperate to know just how many sounds he could coax from you.

He dipped down to place a kiss on your breast, so perfectly hoisted by the bra he sought to slip from your body. He pulled back in a light pant, his hands coming up to fulfil his wishes. Thankfully, it was one of those that unhooked in the front. It sure as hell would save the extra effort. While he reached for the clip, your hands wandered up his muscled forearms, thumbs tracing over the veins of your choice. He stole a glance from you, noting how you seemed as enticed by him as he felt by you, before he turned his focus back to your bra with a sheepish grin on his lips.

“What’s got you more flustered than a frat boy with a serious crush?” You asked, your hands straying from his arms to trail down his toned abdomen.

Your touch stopped just shy of his navel, but the heat carried all the way to his groin. “Don’t you play games with me,” he warned through a smirk, the bra’s clip coming undone. Slowly, he parted the cupping, his breath usurped by the view of your spreading breasts. “Y’know what, play as many games as you’d like—but keep the damn view, will ya?” He chuckled, aiding your efforts to shimmy the bra straps from your shoulders.

Your hands hovered half-way over the hem of his pants, framing his gently carved v-lines in admiration. And then you began to undo the button of his jean, the zipper splitting downward in a slow and steady whir that hoisted his primal urges. You made a point to simultaneously tug at the hem of his underwear as you pulled down his jean, which he shifted to help aid the removal of. He felt mildly embarrassed at the way his manhood bowed with eager anticipation, but you drank in the view with flustered eyes, lips thinning with an exhilarated grin that told him you were marvelling in the spell you’d cast over him.

When you met his gaze again, there was this almost pleading look to your eyes. He answered your silent prayers by bowing down to place tender, thorough kisses all around the curves of your breasts, even taking a moment to adorn your hardened buds with a hot swirl of his tongue and a gentle toying of his teeth. This action alone seemed to tug at your last thread until you’d unravelled into a mewling mess, slurring his name in a manner that made him never want to stop. His hands came up to squeeze your breasts a little harsher than he’d intended to, but you let out an approving groan that left his grip steadfast as he continued his toying.

The hands you’d settled into his hair was the last straw he needed to finally drag his attention lower, where he instilled sloppy, hasty kisses all along your stomach. He reached the hem of your delicate lace, hands gliding over the meat of your hips to hook his fingers under the waistband and yank it down your legs. You discarded the undies eagerly, and with his newfound access to your womanhood, he gave you a content smile before dipping between your thighs to drag his tongue through your slicked folds. He curled his arms around your propped thighs, his nose burying against your clit as he lapped up your core at slow and steady pace. He deliberately took his time to draw all manner of patterns along the tender skin, keenly listening for any hitch in your moans that indicated he’d found a sweet spot. The sound of your undoing? Now that was a voice he’d gladly allow to plague his mind—all day, all night.

He could tell by the progressive loudness of your moans and the more frantic jerking of your lower half that were close to your limits, so he intensified every flick and whisk of his tongue to help carry you to that point.

“Dean—stop,” you breathed out suddenly. Immediately, he withdrew from your proximity with a concerned glance in your direction.

“You all right?” He asked, releasing his grip on your thighs to rub calming circles along your sensitive skin. “If I pushed too far, I’m sor—” he attempted to apologise, but you were eager to cut him short.

“No, it’s not that!” You said quickly, propping yourself onto your elbows to take the view of him in better. “You’re doing amazing—you’re amazing,” you said through a soft smile, your cheeks blown red by a combination of your stimulation and your almost undoing. “But I don’t want to finish just yet. I want to feel you—all of you,” you explained.

Dean caught on quickly, his heart lurching a short distance. “Yeah—yeah, of course,” he murmured, inching his way back up toward you, where he leaned in to brush his nose against yours tenderly before he dipped to place his yearning kiss onto your lips.

“I want you so bad, Dean,” you murmured between kisses—a sweet, breathless sound that cooed into his ear.

“You have no fuckin’ idea how mutual the feeling is,” He breathed, answering your plea by reaching down to grab ahold of his manhood. He delivered a quick, preparatory pump along the length before he pressed it to your slicked folds and dragged it down to your entrance. You let out a sharp moan at that, the kiss temporarily seizing.

Slowly, he began to insert himself into your warmth. You drank him in so eagerly that he couldn’t stop a strained moan from slipping his lips.

“Oh, man,” he mumbled huskily, head collapsing just past yours as he drove himself into the first pump—so controlled and calculated as though he were afraid to hurt you. You seemed appreciative of his pace, your hands coming up to wrap around the toned contours of his back. “You still good?” He checked in as his hips retracted for the second stroke, angling himself to achieve just the right curve that would boldly reach your sweet spot.

You mumbled a feeble mhm, your fingers burrowing little divots into the muscle of his back. That confirmation cemented him, and he took on a steady pace within you, one hand reaching down to grip your thigh in support. It wasn’t long before the impala began to sway under his growing pace, each powered thrust of his hips against yours providing all the momentum needed to rock the steadfast steel. The mingled tune of your moans and grunts filled the isolated air of the car, the windows tinted with a secretive sweat bled from your combined body heat. It carried on for a while, and he could only hope that nobody was around to witness it.

His high came on strong—and embarrassingly, a lot more quicker than yours. He’d blame it on his infatuation with you. That, and the fact that he’d practically cleansed his brain of the mere thought of you. It’d all been necessary to spare himself the torment of fawning over every aspect of your existence, but now that he was finally afforded the opportunity to truly taste you, could he have blamed himself for being greedy? Still, he throttled the urge to scatter his pleasure, straining and waiting as you reached your own breaking point. He knew you were near when he felt the twinge of your nails against his back, and he brought both arms up to straddle your head as he pressed a desperate kiss to your lips.

With a single, deep thrust of his hips, you both spluttered a weepy breath. The knot in his core dissipated into an elated, white haze that consumed his every sense. For a moment, all he could do was hover himself over you, his lips splayed against yours as he grunted into you. Your lips tangled in breathless bouts of air, occasionally snagging in a weak kiss.

“You’re amazing,” he breathed against your cheek, placing a kiss onto the flushed skin.

Your hands came up to cradle his face and push him just far enough to drink him in. “I adore you, Dean Winchester,” you whispered lovingly. “I always have.”

The way you gazed at him was enough to throb his debilitated heart, and suddenly he felt rejuvenated within—as though you were all the motivation he needed to keep on powering his way through this cruel experience he’d come to call surviving. You made him want to do more than survive. You made him want to live—if not for himself, then for you. You were the type of person he’d have fought himself free of hell to return back to. And now that he was back, one thing was for certain—he’d keep on fighting to ensure his place on this earth. To remain beside you.

Dean had never been too good with words out loud, so he gave you a soft smile that he hoped could convey a fraction of what he felt for you. He removed your hands from his jaw, crowning each with a kiss before he shifted your bodies into a comfortable spooning session. Your back curved into his chest, your lower half perfectly conforming to his as he held you against him like you’d slip away if he relented for even a second. And you laid like that until a gentle, shallow rhythm of breathing overtook you, sleep coming to claim you with a haste he envied. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slipped into dreamland as quickly as that—and when he did, his nightmares would turn up like an eager workaholic reporting for dawn duty.

Now, with you nestled between the arms that had come to memorise the shape of loneliness, he didn’t mind laying there in wake. He listened to the gentle whisper of your flaring nostrils, taking in a fraction of the peace etched across your partially concealed face. He was glad that somebody else could draw peace from him and claim it in the way that he’d never been able to claim for himself. He was glad that somebody was you.

It had always been you.

He’d been the biggest fool trying to convince himself otherwise.

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a/n: trying out a new format here bc the old one is exactly that. old. n e ways. first Dean fic—be kind to me!! :’) this was so daunting to write, but boy did I have my fun with it. i hope y’all enjoy this piece, i haven’t been able to get this sad sad man out of my mind. i just want to hold him close at all times. also i’m not responsible for any typos i’ve missed bc it’s currently 2 am and i’m scrambling to get this out. the drafts are sick of it.

thank you for reading! all likes, comments & reblogs are deeply appreciated! ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི

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[mustangbby]

DAUGHTER - boothill x reader

- boothill brings home a baby girl he found in the grass one late night.

- read boothills lore and SOBBED. NOBODY TALK TO ME RN. anyways i had to write about his adoptive daughter but if he had a spouse at the time bc dad boothill is so precious imo cryingngnfsnakskf anyways..

- pre cyborg boothill, major boothill backstory spoilers, written before release wc 582

Boothill was home fashionably late tonight. He never specified why though, leaving you to your thoughts on his ranch. 

You both agreed to buy a farm together, considering he grew up around horses and cattle. His fathers taught him how to tend to the animals, taught him creativity, and overall gave him a fine life. 

You both had talked about having some children of your own, but that thought hadn’t become a reality due to your busy schedules. That was, though, until he walked through the door of your shared home, cradling a baby in his arms.

She was a pretty little thing- with pale blue eyes and white hair poking through her scalp. She seemed to be a newborn, with how tiny she was. 

“Look what I found, just sitting in the grass,” he said in a slight whisper, not wanting to startle the baby. “She’s pretty, ain't she?” 

Your eyes widen slightly as you sit up from your place on your shared bed. You take a sharp inhale before motioning for Boothill to hand you the baby. He carefully rests her in your arms, sitting down on your side of the bed as you hold the fragile being in your grasp. You coo to her as Boothill watches you with adoration.

“She’s gorgeous,” you smile, looking down at the girl who was happily clapping in your arms. “Do we know her parents? I’d hate to just take someone's child…”

“No parent was in sight. I also highly doubt someone would jus’ leave their kid in the middle of nowhere,” he said, patting the girl on the head. “If I find a parent, we’ll give her to em’.” 

You nod in agreement, allowing the baby to grab onto your pointer finger. She seemed so happy, you almost didn’t want to let her go. 

You both soon took her into your bathroom, running a lukewarm bath in your sink and putting the lightest type of soap you could find into the water. You wanted to give her a little bath, considering he found her outside, and you didn’t know what she’d have on her. You also didn’t know how long she’s been outside. 

You unwrapped her from the makeshift blanket Boothill tore from his shirt and set her down slowly into the water. She didn’t seem to fuss, so you proceeded to wash her body. Boothill stood behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist, looking at something on his phone. You finished cleaning the tiny girl before wrapping her in a soft, warm towel. 

“Babe, where are we going to find clothes for this poor thing? She’s probably freezing!” You stress, crossing your arms and sighing as you watch the little girl squirm in the towels hold. 

“I’ll head out tomorrow morning and get some necessities. ‘Was thinkin’ about those things too, like how she’s gonna eat and all that.”

“Ugh, that’s another thing to worry about,” you turn around, facing him. “Babies her age don’t eat, and I can’t produce milk.”

At this point, it was late in the night. Who knows what time, all you know is that you should be asleep. But instead, you’re up caring for a little girl who wasn’t even yours.

“Is she just going to sleep with us tonight?” He asked, getting ready for bed.

“I mean, where else would we put her? We don’t have a crib!” You lightly picked her up, placing her on your lap as you rocked her to sleep.

[maximwtf]

as a junho lover i am BEGGING you to please release the fic you had 😭😭😭😭

Hwang Jun-Ho x detective! Reader

Words: 3970

google docs pages: 6

Warnings: Platonic relationship mostly, but squint and it’s not. Squid Game season 1 spoilers, violence, guns, choking, character death but not major. 

Opening: You and Jun-ho are colleagues and your shift tonight would only consist of being on patrol. This leads to a lot of talking as per usual, before you spot something suspicious.

AN// G/N reader. A lot of you wanted me to post this ancient piece of media back up, so your wish is my command. This was actually fun for me to read as well. This was last posted in 2021 and soon after deleted, no memory of why I did that :”D. But I hope yall will still enjoy this s1 inspired fic ! And before anyone asks, I won't write a pt 2 for this, since I don't remember where I was taking this story initially;(

“I know you miss him.”

You were walking behind Jun-ho towards his car. Tonight's shift would be just you and him on patrol. There was nothing surprising with that, since he was your partner and you had gotten to know him pretty well over the years. But the problem was that you hadn’t slept well last night, and you had forgotten to bring your lunch while in a hurry this morning. So this meant that you'd either have to be without food the whole night or beg for Jun-ho to stop for a moment before the stores closed.

You watched how Jun-ho unlocked the doors of the car. The front lights lit up for a second, Indicating the doors had opened. He stepped into the driver's seat and sat down. You soon followed and sat down on the seat next to him. Nothing out of the ordinary, another normal shift. 

The car was almost fully white, with two stripes going on both of the sides. The smaller stripe was yellow and on top of that was a larger stripe in blue. Under the stripes was text that said ‘Police’. On the roof of the car, there were the usual police red and blue lights but also a bigger light for searching in the dark. The seats were fully black, like most of the car was on the inside.

Jun-ho started the car, and slowly drove away from the police office. The sun had gone down a little bit ago, and slowly but surely the street lights had turned on. It had rained earlier that day, so the streets were a little wet still. The car had no lights on inside, only the lights on the control board were illuminating a soft light against whatever it managed to touch. The street lamps passing by allowing some more light to come in every once in a while. This was exactly what you were used to, since the two of you had been on night patrol a lot recently.

You sat in silence as Jun-ho drove through the familiar streets. Watching the yellowish lights as they passed you, one by one. Your gaze wandered off to Jun-ho. You couldn’t tell how he was feeling, since he was only looking at the road with no defined expression on his face. He had told you on your last shift that he hadn’t seen his brother in a while, but you weren’t sure if he had been found already or not. Not sure if it was appropriate to ask about it again, seeing as it might have been a sensitive topic. But if Jun-ho was feeling out of it, you weren’t sure if he should be working a night shift.

“Hey, could we stop by a store? I forgot my ‘lunch’, and I don't want to pull an all-nighter without anything to eat.” You requested with a hint of embarrassment in your voice. But it was either this or having to suffer through the night with no food. Either way, this was maybe the best way to start a conversation, to see how  your partner was doing. Jun-ho turned his gaze at you for a little bit before he replied. “Sure, just make it quick.” He said with a nod. 

Soon the car pulled up near a store and you left to grab something to eat. Knowing that you didn't have a lot of time, you just took the nearest thing that happened to be some sort of a salad. You grabbed the nearest energy drink just to be sure the night would pass smoothly, and went to pay. As you were walking back to the car, you saw Jun-ho writing something on his phone. Not thinking much of it, and seating yourself back down next to him. “Sorry for this. I’ll try to wake up earlier next time.” You apologized, while placing the food on the back seat. “It’s okay. You didn’t waste much time.” He hummed as a reply, and started the car again. The small walkie talkie that he had connected to his belt was making noise. The other officers that were on the same shift seemed to be actively talking right now. This didn’t worry you yet, since they would have contacted you two if something was going on nearby.

After a while of going around the part of the town you were supposed to patro, you reached back to get the energy drink. Staying up late last night had started to turn against you, starting to feel awfully worn out by now. Your eyes were looking at the almost empty streets, as you lifted the can up to your lips. 

Your gaze detected movement on the road, and soon seeing a dog crossing the street. Jun-ho didn’t seem to be bothered by it, continuing on. Panicking for a moment when the realisation hit you that he must have not seen the damn thing. You quickly put the can on the cup holder. “Stop, there’s a dog!” You exclaimed to Jun-ho. His eyes widened and he pressed down the brakes. The car stopped just in time, and the dog crossed the road quickly, with its tail in between its legs. Your body almost hit the dashboard, but thankfully your seat belt held you in place. You were both staring at the road with widened eyes. All you could hear was heavy breathing that was coming from the both of you. 

You slowly leaned back and rested your body on the seat. “Pull the car on the side of the road.” You demanded quietly, voice firm. Jun-ho did as you requested, and parked the car on the side. “How did you not see the dog?” You asked in a much calmer voice, body seemingly still in some form of shock. You didn’t want to be mean to him, since it could have just been a mistake on his part. “I was in my thoughts. I’m sorry for putting you in danger.” Jun-ho sighed, with his gaze avoiding you. “Now, you look at me and tell me what is going on. You seem totally out of it?” You huffed and tilted your head in confusion. It took him a while, but he turned to look at you again. “And now the second part. Are you doing okay?” You asked the question in a different way so he couldn’t avoid the topic. “I’m doing just fine. I’m just a little tired, that’s all. I promise.” Jun-ho tried to convince you.

He turned away to start the car again, but you had other plans. “Have they found your brother yet?” You asked with a more monotone voice. Trying to dig a little deeper this time. Straight after saying this, Jun-ho stopped completely for a brief moment. “He’s…still missing.” The man admitted quietly while looking at the windshield. He leaned back on the seat like you had done and closed his eyes. You furrowed your brows in worry. Before you were able to reply, he continued. “I have reported him as missing already, but they can’t seem to find him. I have some evidence of..something but nothing that would actually help.” He pressed his palms against the steering wheel firmly, eyes opening again.

You looked at him with a freshly formed frown on your face. “What's the evidence you’ve found so far?” You asked, interested in the topic because you wanted to help him. “A card with a circle, triangle and a square on it. My brother had one in his room and I recently saw another man have a similar card. They’re related but I don’t know how.” Jun-ho replied, and turned his gaze back to you with sorrow behind his eyes. “Well, have you talked to the man yet? Maybe he knows what’s going on?” You tilted your head. “I tried to, but he didn’t seem like he wanted to tell me anything..” The man sighed again, but this time with more frustration. “I know you miss him, but you can’t give up. Did you see what was written on the card?” You patted his shoulder, an attempt to wipe the saddened look off of his face. “There was only a number on the back, nothing more.” He explained, not much to go off of. “We need a little more evidence to really start looking into this, but I can try to help you. I’m sure we can find him.”  You tried to smile a little and offered a hug to him. Jun-ho looked at you for a moment and accepted the offer.

After you had pulled back from the hug, the walkie talkie started to make noise again. Jun-ho answered it quickly. The person talking to Jun-ho told him to switch cars to a civil one, because they had spotted something going on near you two. Jun-ho ended the call, and started the car again. “Seems like we’ve got a case on our hands.” He hummed, and pulled the car back on the road. Like nothing had happened.

At this hour it was fully dark. Only the street lights, signs and the lights from the car broke veil the darkness. There were only a few people walking on the streets, most likely coming from a bar. 

Before you knew it, you had arrived all the way back to the police office. You could barely see the whole building in the dark, the city having not invested a whole lot on the building. Jun-ho took the keys from the car and stepped out. You took your items and followed him, hurrying to the side of the car he was standing by. He led you to a fully black car, around the corner from the office. “Let’s be quick.” He stated quietly and opened the door to the passenger seat. You smiled at him kindly, and stepped in. He soon sat down on the driver's side and pulled the car onto the road. “Where are we going?” You asked while putting on your seat belt. “Here.” Jun-ho said as he was typing the location on the navigator. You didn’t recognize the street’s name, but you decided to not ask where it was located. You’d see soon enough. “Did they tell you what was going on there?” You asked for more information, hoping that Jun-ho didn’t mind. “Someone who we have been looking for has been reported to be in that area. We were called to check if he’s still there.” Jun-ho quickly explained while driving faster. You two didn’t have time to lose, since the man could get away any moment. 

The navigator kept giving directions, and Jun-ho was following them. You seemed to be getting closer by the second. But suddenly Jun-ho slowed down the whole car. “What are you doing?” You questioned your partner. But what you didn’t know was that he had seen something far more important to him than the person you two had been called to look for. “That’s him. That’s the man that had the same card as my brother.” Jun-ho said quietly before he started to back up the car. He backed in the shadows and turned off the lights from the car. “I might get fired for this, but I'll make sure that you’ll be fine.” The man murmured, as his eyes were following Gi-hun get picked up by a big van. “Wait- Are you trying to tell me that you’ll disobey the request to find the man the office has been looking for just to follow him? What if we end up in danger? There’s no backup.” Your heart beat got faster the more you thought about this. This didn’t seem like the worst case scenario was going to be fired, but something way worse. “This might be my only chance to get to know where my brother is. I’m not letting this go.” He replied with confidence in his voice.

As much as you appreciated and trusted this man, you weren’t sure if you should tell him no. And even if you did, would he even listen at this point. Before you had time to say anything against his plan, the van started to drive away. Jun-ho started to slowly shadow it. He had turned off all the lights from the car, and he wasn’t using the headlights either. You had never been in a situation like this, but there was no getting out of this now.

“Do you have a phone?” Jun-ho asked with a more serious tone. “Y-yes, why?” You asked but still showed him your phone. It was almost fully charged, only a few percents missing. “Good. Just in case we get separated.” He nodded and kept following the van. “So are you saying we might? We’re not getting out of this car are we?” You asked in a panicked voice. “You don’t have to. But I want to know what’s going on. They’re clearly going somewhere and my brother has to be somewhere with them.” Jun-ho spoke, attention clearly keen on the van. 

Soon the van stopped. The navigator showed that you were close to a port. Suddenly you were able to see multiple of the same kind of van going the same way. They all turned and started to drive towards a cargo ship. There was a lot of space for all the vans and some people with red clothing showing where the vans should be parked. Seemingly a well orchestrated operation, whatever this was.

Jun-ho stopped the car and parked it so that it wouldn’t be too easy to see. “Now. You stay here, and I’ll call you in a little bit once I have found out what's going on here.” Jun-ho started to undo his seat belt and get out. “Wait- We don’t even know who these people are, and we don’t have any backup. What if they come and ask what I’m doing here?” You started to get restless. “Just..” Jun-ho had to think about this for a moment. “Tell them you’re waiting for your boyfriend.” He finally said and closed the door. Your eyes widened for a moment but before you could form any words, he was gone. 

There were more lights near the port, so it was easy to see all the grey vans enter the ship. There were huge yellow towers built to hover on top of the bridge that led to the ship that had multiple bright lights showing the way to the drivers of the vans. There didn’t seem to be anyone else but more of the people with the red suits. The situation unfolding before your eyes, seemingly sketchier by the minute.

It was hard to see, but you could make out where Jun-ho was standing. He took out his phone and started to type something. You started to look even more worried. Now wasn’t the best time to start looking at your phone. The worry caused your hand to start wandering closer to the door handle. Your eyes were still focused on him, and you saw when he switched the phone to a gun. Only hoping it was loaded full, but it wasn’t safe anyway to go on a mission like this with only one gun anyway.

As your hand started to open the door, Jun-ho ran from the place he was hiding in. From what you could see he had hidden behind one of the vans. “Damn it..” You cussed under your breath and got out of the car. After making sure that there was no one around, you ran towards another van, and copied what he did. You got on your back and quickly got under the van. Quickly finding something to hold on to and lift your body up from the ground.

Soon after doing this the vans started to all move in the cargo ship. There was some talking  you could hear, and after that the ship left the port. You had no idea where the two of you were going, but you had to follow your partner. You would never forgive yourself if he never came back from this mission that no one even had an idea you two were on. Knowing no one would believe you if you told them Jun-ho had disappeared just like his brother.

The vans you had gotten under were neatly parked next to each other, near the back of the ship. You saw him shift and then get up, still staying behind the van. You took a quiet deep breath and followed his lead. “Hey.” You whispered quietly, so that no one would hear you. With a quick movement he was pointing his gun at you, before he realised who it was. “What are you doing?! I told you to stay in the car?” He whispered back with tension in his voice. “And I’d go to the office alone, to explain to the boss where you had disappeared? As if they’d believe me.” You murmured back. He then quickly switched to your side. “Do you have your gun?” He whispered close to your ear. You shivered slightly at this, placing your hand over the firearm. “I do, it’s full,”  you whispered back. He only nodded at you and went to peek over the edge of the van. While he was doing that someone started to talk through a microphone. “Check the players,” echoed through the ship. With this the side doors of the vans opened by themselves. 

“Get in.” Jun-ho whispered quickly before he stepped in one of the vans. Without another thought you stepped in the van that Jun-ho had been under, ready to follow his lead. Knowing by now how sensitive this situation was. One wrong move, and you’d truly see what these men dressed in red were truly up to.

Your eyes scanned the people sitting in the van. You couldn’t see too well, no lights on in the vans. But no matter how well you looked, you couldn’t see anyone that even slightly looked like Jun-ho’s brother. Before you knew it, you heard the drivers of the cars step out. Your eyes widened. The only thing you could think of was to pretend to be one of the people in the van. 

You sat down on one of the seats at the back, and pretended to sleep. You were able to open one of your eyes slightly, trying to stay up to date on what was happening. You saw a masked person with a full red suit and a black mask with a white circle on it. They were scanning the other people in the van by checking something from behind their ears. You had no idea what Jun-ho was going to do, but as the suited person started to come closer to you. Knowing you didn’t have whatever the others had gotten placed behind their ears, you prepared to attack the suited man. 

 They tested one of your ears and then turned your head to test your other ear. Not being able to find the chip they were looking for. You opened your eyes and quickly attacked them. You hit the mask so that the person fell backwards, buying yourself some time. While they were trying to get up, you moved behind them. The person tried to stab you with a black knife, but you dodged it. You took a hold of their wrist and repeatedly hit it against the seats of the van, until they let go of the knife.  With that you hit their head with your knee and began to choke them. Trying to make as little noise as possible as to not alert any of their companions.

The van moved a little as the person struggled until they started to go limp. You let go of the pink suited person, and took a deep breath. Your heart beat was going crazy at this point, and your hands were shaking. Not once during your time as a detective had you had to fight like this for your life. The idea of you two being alone on this mission, and not even knowing if Jun-ho was alive scared you. 

You knew that you didn’t have a lot of time, so you began to strip the pink suit off the person. It was better to hide in plain sight, especially if they were all dressed the same. You took off the mask as well and dressed up. You had no clue what the job of this person was, other than checking the players and driving the van, but maybe you’d be able to just follow the others. After getting the suit on, you took your tag that showed who you were off, and placed it in the pocket of the person that was now wearing your clothes. 

After that you lifted up the body of the person, attempting to drag them outside the van. Not being used to doing something like this made it hard to lift up a whole body alone. While struggling you wobbled to the edge of the ship, and dropped the body in water. After this you turned around to see where you were supposed to go, you saw another pink suited person. They heard you and turned around. You froze up, not really having a plan to go off of. You felt a tap on your shoulder. “I saw what you did.” A man’s voice said. You could tell it was Jun-ho’s, since it was more muffled due to the mask. But you took the gamble. “You did the same,” You mumbled back. The other masked person made no move to harm you, confirming you’d been correct.

“Hey, you two!” You both turned to look at who was talking to you. There was a person in a pink suit, but this one had a triangle on the mask and a gun. Behind them there was another pink suited person. Only, they had a square on their mask and no gun in hand. You were too stressed out to say anything, and you assumed Jun-ho could sense this since he started to talk. “This is...They were feeling sea sick.” Jun-ho said to the triangle. They didn’t reply, but the square stepped forward, pointing their gun down. 

Their behaviour made you wonder if the symbols on their masks had something to do with their ranking system. Attempting to figure it out while Jun-ho was conversing with them. Square, then triangle, and that left the circle. And if it was the last one it meant that it was the lowest position. “Did you forget the rules?” A man’s voice said from behind the square mask. “You do not speak without your supervisor’s approval.” They continued. You were trying to make your breathing as calm as possible, so that the square wouldn’t notice anything. “Go wait in the cabin,” the square ordered. He gave you and Jun-ho a stare before walking away, taking the triangle with him. 

After they had left you put your hand on your chest to take a breather. You had no idea what you had gotten yourself into, and you couldn’t even blame Jun-ho. You had killed a random man a minute ago and after that you were pointed a gun at, and it was most likely only going to get worse from here.

“Are you doing alright?” Jun-ho’s voice asked, as he kneeled down a little, and pulled your upper body back up by your shoulder. “We have to get to these ‘cabins’, just follow me. Please?” Jun-ho kept talking to you. Giving you a moment to recollect yourself after the encounter. “I’ll recover, I just need to rest for a moment…” You exhaled while looking at your shaky hands. With that you nodded and Jun-ho started to walk up the stairs, where the other circles had gone as well.

[goldweaverr]

Hi! I just saw your first post about our beloved Kremnos prince, Mydei, and I absolutely love it! ❤️ You captured his character so beautifully, especially his views on love and romance. I adore how meticulous and accurate you were in portraying him—I completely see him that way too! Our prince carries the heavy burden of his family's royal lineage and the countless people who rely on him in the name of Kremnos. This perfectly explains his inexperience with love and romance—he simply has no time or hasn't been able to find someone to share such a connection with. I absolutely love how you portrayed his behavior when he finally discovers someone he can truly open his soul to! It’s so beautifully done! ❤️ I wonder—have you ever thought about Mydei letting his lover take the lead in bed? Whether it’s because of his inexperience or his eagerness to explore, the idea is so captivating. I love imagining Mydei finally letting go, allowing himself to be passionately ravished as he releases all the pent-up stress and burdens he’s carried for so long. It feels so fitting for his character—a vulnerable yet liberating moment where he can truly surrender and experience love in its rawest form. ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

OH MY !! I wasn't expecting such a lovely response at all, I'm so flustered, thank you so so much !!! I'm glad we share an opinion and I'm so glad you like how I portrayed him !!! I was hoping people would see The Vision™ so I'm beyond happy to know that not only has it reached, but others see it too ~! I'm very overwhelmed with the positive responses, and I'm more than happy to be sharing a space with so many fellow Mydei fans!! I finished the quest today and haven't been okay about him since, I hope he doesn't get sidelined too much as the story progresses and more characters get introduced because I sincerely love him so, so much <3

Again, thank you for your kind words!! They mean so much to me!!

And as for that lovely idea... muehehe let's get to it then ! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ I hope I can do it justice !

— NSFW! MDNI! No spoilers!

Love. In it's rawest form.

He knew he could let you take control. All your midnight rendezvous so far had him taking the lead. It just simply felt natural to be the one to drop you on your back — hand behind your head to soften your impact against the already soft mattress — and pleasure you until you can't take any more. Until all you can do is scream his name endlessly. Until you forget there were Titans out there to worship instead of him. That was his role towards you, it felt only natural. He didn't mind it one bit, he was more than happy with it. Steadied above you by the strength of his arms, staring at the gorgeous sight of you unraveling underneath him, your expressions, the eye contact, your nails on his back. It was divine.

Sometimes, you two would spice it up a bit by making slight changes. Trying a few new positions. You were both still so new to this, taking it really slow to remain comfortable. Yet so eager to explore more of each other, of love, and sex, intimacy. Although he understands there's no shame in having discussions about these things beforehand, it still felt easier for him to learn through action. If something bothered either of you, neither would hesitate to express it, and everything halts. He's not an animal. He understands boundaries, limits, preferences, comfort.. he doesn't shy away from expressing his own, and wants you to always be equally as comfortable. Love is not meant to be uncomfortable.

For example, one thing Mydei found he doesn't like is when you're on all fours and he's taking you from behind.

The position felt... Uncomfortable to him in a strange way. He found it felt a bit degrading to you, and it prevented him from seeing your face and expressions. Which upset him when he came to realize that not staring at your beautiful face while he's making love to you takes away so much of the intimacy that brings him comfort during these activities. He loves watching your reactions. He even likes talking to you through it. Lacking that made him feel vulnerable in a way. So after you were done, he told you how he felt, and that was the last time the position was used. Simple as that.

You had both been thinking about bringing it up, but wondering how to approach it.

He might not look like it, but when it came to this newfound love, he was so no less eager to discover everything that came with it. He wanted to know everything about you and show you everything about him. He wanted to know how to kiss you in the right ways, how to hold you with a grip that's balanced between protective and loving, how to be there for you in a way that doesn't suffocate you, where on your body to put his lips so that he drives you insane, what pace of thrusts makes you see stars in the glory of Kephale's morning...

And through it, he discovers himself. He's learning along with you. He doesn't know much about these parts of who he is, he's endlessly grateful you've given him this opportunity to learn and get to know himself more. And his recent thought is that it might be nice if sometime, you were to get on top of him and ravish him the way he usually does to you.

But, that can't be right? He can't ask you to do that, can he? Is he allowed to want this? Shouldn't it be his job to pleasure you and take care of you? It might be shameful if he wanted to just sit back and let you do all the work...

You, on the other hand, were thinking about it endlessly. Wanting to watch him relax, watch him unwind. Wanting to be the one giving him pleasure for once, he deserves it. He takes so much care of you, always putting you above himself, in every aspect. Even outside of your relationship, he's always putting others first. Prioritizing Phainon's safety over his own, even the two outsiders above himself. Putting the city of Okhema and it's citizens safety first, putting the wants of his people above his own... He's never given enough credit for how much of himself he sacrifices everyday for others, because they view him as too distant, too rough, too cold... His actions speak louder than his words, and his actions are constantly putting himself in harm's way if it meant someone else would be safe.

So, for once, he deserves to turn his mind off. Turn off his senses and his desire to please. To just enjoy being taken care of, being loved, being thanked for everything.

So when midnight came around (or the hour people got used to being midnight, not like the endless sunlight indicated much for them) and you two found yourself tangled up in the usual dance that happens so often, you decided it's now or never. As Mydei began to slowly guide you towards the mattress, lips never once leaving yours, you turned your position around an dropped him down instead. The sudden movement broke the kiss and left him with an expression of shock on his face, staring at you questioning what just happened. You smile at him and gently push him up a bit more, letting him get entirely comfortable on the bed. He follows your lead slowly, unsure where this is going, but curious to see what you're up to. Your expression remained calm, a smile that looks almost like a smirk, mischief and adoration in your eyes as you stared into his fiery gold ones. "let me take care of you" you broke the silence by saying. His mouth opened slightly, as if to answer, before it closed again after not finding the right words. His eyebrows furrow in confusion as he doesn't break eye contact, "take care of me?" He asks, tone full of uncertainty. You nod, "you're always taking the lead. In battle, in bed.. why don't you just let me thank you this time, hm?" Your voice came out soft and gentle as you began to straddle him, hands pushing him down slightly so he can be fully relaxed into the comfortable bed and he follows your every silent order as you get yourself comfortable on top of him. His lap, your throne.

This is what he's been thinking of. He should be happy. But he finds himself feeling a bit guilty, like he doesn't deserve it, like this isn't fair to you, and that prevents him from relaxing entirely. The worry on his expression was clear to you, you understood each other through the tiniest of microexpressions, and you could tell what he was thinking. "You're worth everything" is all what you say in response to soothe your worries, deciding to follow in his example and let your actions speak louder than your words.

You pressed your lips in kiss gently, moving against his in a soft rhythm that felt too innocent considering the moment blooming between the two of you. His hand came up to grip the back of your head carefully, letting you do what you want and following along as best he can. Your hand on the other end got to working off the armor on his body, shedding away the last piece of protection that separates his bare body from you, thinking to yourself how grateful you are that he trusts you to this extent, to allow himself to be this vulnerable and unprotected in your presence. His hands shift as they help you take off his clothing, the sound of metal hitting the ground resonating as more and more pieces are thrown off to the floor carelessly until he was naked. Although it was all about him tonight, you still pulled away to strip yourself as well, not wanting him to feel an imbalance in the dynamic between the two of you. As soon as you were naked, he leaned in to kiss you again but you dodged his lips with a playfully chuckle, he lets out a sulking scoff in response.

You begin to kiss his jaw, running your tongue over the spot you knew he liked, before you slowly went down to his neck. Your arms wrapped around his waist to drag your chest flush against his, wanting to feel him as close as you can as your lips continued to explore his neck, as perfectly sculpted as everything else about him is.

Marks left shamelessly decorating his neck, paying no mind to how easily they can be seen through the little clothing he wears. Your hands and mouth worked in tandem to assure his pleasure, one hand busying itself rubbing his length up and down slowly, another playing with his chest, as your mouth kept leaving kisses and bites and hickeys all over his neck and collarbones, tongue tracing over the red marks adorning his torso. His breathing heavy, his chest heaving up and down quickly, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise them, shameless moans and grunts and groans coming from above you. Sneaking a peek over to look at him, his eyebrows are pressed together tightly in pleasure as his eyes are closed shut, head leaning back, sweat dripping down his forehead.. a divine sight. One that motivated you to work even harder to pleasure him. Your mouth left his neck and went down to take a nipple in your mouth, earning you a harsh jolt of his entire body that made you yelp. "Sorry.." he apologizes sheepishly, face red as his hands try to distract you by roaming all over your body. You suppress a chuckle and plant a quick smooch on his lips to tease him, and he lets out a quiet groan as he rolls his eyes at you. You get back to what you were doing, sucking his nipple the way he does to yours, hand playing with the other way, all while your other hand never left his length, giving him just enough friction to stay excited, never enough to cum.

Eventually you let go of his chest and pull back for a minute to admire your work so far, admire how he already looks spent despite you barely being halfway through your mission. He'll complain and scold you for all the marks left across his torso tomorrow morning, but you'll deal with that problem later, currently you feel proud of yourself. Your gaze moves over to the vein on his bicep and your nail drags against it softly, idly, as you consider your next move. He stares at you wordlessly, anticipating what's next. He might not be admitting it through words, but he is entirely enjoying this. He doesn't understand why he'd hear some men complain about feeling their pride sting if they ever let their partners take the lead, if anything, Mydei has never felt more like a king than he does in this moment, all the attention on him as he's practically being worshipped. He feels so powerful, but most importantly, so loved.

You make eye contact with him again, a gentle expression as the friction between your gazes could practically be seen as sparks of electricity. "I love you" he says, breaking the silence but igniting that flickering flame that needed a fuse. You smile, not responding, but instead immediately pushing yourself down to the ground to kneel in front of him, preferring to answer him with more service. He props himself up on his elbows to keep watching you intently, as you wrap your arm around his length again, and bring your lips to it. He's used to gripping your hair when you go down on him, guiding you to the pace he prefers, but this time when he grips he makes no other moves, trusting to let you take the lead entirely how you want to. You won't deny him his pleasure after all, it's you.

At times he has the most random thoughts. Like if the walls are actually thinner than he thinks. Like if anyone on the other end can hear the mighty crown prince moaning out his partner's name. Like if Aglaea's golden threads can even pick stuff like this up, oh no ....

But a jolt of pleasure brings his thoughts back to reality as he redirects his attention back to you.

He isn't ashamed of what he has with you. He's afraid of where it might take him. Of how much he's willing to do for you. He knows every minute spent with you indulging in romance and desires is playing with fire while he's made of gasoline. And he'll burn down to ashes in his most graceless moments when he's bare under your gaze that burns gold into his skin, liquifying his flames into a puddle of adoration for you.

While maintaining eye contact with you, a silent exchange of vulnerability, it spoke an endless capacity. An unspoken sentence of 'Y𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦' ringing loudly in your ears. '𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴'.

You brought out the best out of each other, but simultaneously the ugliest human parts as well. Brought out the honesty he's hid from others and himself, brought out the desires he's kept ignored without caring about the hole they were digging in his soul. Gnawing away at his very being and turning him hollow. Brought out the love he was afraid to ever confront. But he's here now, confronting it and ruling over it's court. And tonight is the summit of Mydei's seemingly pathetic life. The two of you are wrapped up in a galaxy of your sins; summed down to nothing but a constellation of the most raw human desires. Who were the titans to demand worship when they knew nothing of what true religion was. This was a ritual. An exchange of souls. It meant more to Mydei than anything else has. This was raw, this was love. He could live in a reel of this night replaying endlessly forever.

The rest of this cursed world could matter later, to hell with every prophecy that demands his presence, nothing felt more worth experiencing in this moment than your mouth on him and your heat surrounding him and your praises spilling against him and your touch killing him and bringing him to life a thousand times over in this bed.

This was love in it's rawest form, and they can call Phainon the chosen one all they want, but Mydei feels like he's received the greatest blessings this universe has to offer him when he made eye contact with you the first time, and if the black tide was to eventually swallow even the last standing holy city, then to hell with all of it if you'd still be by his side.

[talk-danmei-to-me]

pls pls pls pls make a list of all danmei people should read. I am thirsty for love and angst and pls be my salvation

Omg I can't say no to that!

Full disclosure, I've only been reading danmei since May. Also, I only read official translations. Others may be able to give a wider range.

But since you asked so nicely, let's go!

1) Yuwu/Remnants of Filth

Obviously, my number 1 is going to be the danmei I spend 80% of my time here trying to convince people to read.

Yuwu is a gift for fans of angst, literally opens with the MC getting stabbed in the heart and Meatbun doesn't let up from there.

Fun fact - the only Meatbun without non-con elements in the primary ship.

Sad fact - it also lacks her usual comedy.

Why I love it: Mo Xi, my princess, genuinely the saddest boy in all of danmei. I'm ridiculously invested in Ximang's quest for happiness.

2) 2ha/Erha/The Husky and his White Cat Shizun

At it's heart (at least to where the official translations are up to) 2ha is a romantic comedy. Tropes you may have found in other danmei hit so good (ghost weddings and shizun fucking).

Fun fact - Has my favourite confession scene out of all danmei I've read.

Sad fact - Being Meatbun's most popular work, you can basically collect spoilers like pokemon cards. Not even ao3 tags are safe.

Why I love it - Meatbun's smut writing is S tier and Mo Ran is one of my favourite protaganists... although he has some competition.

3) Ballad of Sword and Wine

I feel like I need to formally apologise for sleeping on this series after reading the first volume. It’s so, so juicy! Obsessed with the character dynamics and it’s always a winner when the main couple starts to dabble with each other in the first volume. It’s not Meatbun levels of smut peddling but I appreciate Tang Jiu Qing’s hustle. If you love courtly politics, graphic descriptions of violence and the most insane levels of sexual tension you will ever read. You need this danmei in your life.

Fun fact - I am as obsessed with Cezhou as Xiao Chiye is with the nape of Shen Lanzhou’s neck.

Sad fact - The sheer amount of characters will drive you insane.

4) To Rule in a Turbulent World

Enter You Miao! His introduction made me fall in love with him just as fast as I did Mo Ran! There's a reason everyone raves about chapter 3. Hilarious, horny and wholesome. The side characters are amazing, the main couple is adorable and it's giving hints of political powerplays. Also the first danmei I've read that seems to really deliver when it comes to skinship. The main couple literally can't keep their hands to themselves.

Fun fact - I'm only 50% through but I am buying every single Fei Tian Ye Xiang 7 seas is about to release day 1.

Sad fact - there's no pictures. Also I'm not sure how angsty it's going to get.

Bonus: For the toxic yaoi fan in your life

Meatbun's most unhinged work. She's peddling all the toxic smut fans of bl mangas and manhwas will be familiar with. Even though it's modern it made me nostalgic for that reason. He Yu is a clown and I adore him. Meatbun is airing all her kinks with this one and I'm not mad about it.

Fun fact- This is the first modern danmei I've read. Also, one of the more fun uses of the straight man trope I've read.

Sad fact - Vol 3 cliffhanger!

Why I love it - It's just pure Meatbun chaos.

(Am I just exposing myself as a Meatbun stan, probably, but she delivers every time.)

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Hi ! Can you do a "Stop the wedding!" with Lilia Vanrouge and Epel Felmier please? Have a nice day!

COMMENTS: Hi. I chose to follow the same format as a request with the same theme that I had already written: Rescuing You (Deuce; Jack; Floyd; Kalim)

As English is not my first language I can't write Epel's dialect/accent as I would like, but I hope it still feels accurate. 🤞

I hope you and all enjoy it 💐

CHARACTERS: Epel Felmier / Lilia Vanrouge

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Confession

WARNING: Spoilers from The Phantom Bride event and the Vignettes of the respective Cards.

WORD COUNT: An average of 500 words per character.

CONTEXT: Someone was kidnapped to marry some ghost princess and might end up turning into a ghost too. And they just found out that someone was you.

The only thing Epel knew was that someone had been kidnapped by a ghost or something.

When he found out that it was you who had been kidnapped and to marry that ghost, he not only panicked but also got furious! Vil and Riddle had to calm him down.

Although he wanted to be in the very first rescue group, the others ended up convincing him to stay in the last one.

Every time a rescue party failed, he would release all the frustration he had. He even went so far as to criticize Vil himself for failing.

Rook promised he wouldn't tell Vil anything because he found Epel’s display of raw feelings merveilleux.

When it was Epel's group's turn, Riddle and Rook had already fallen behind and he and Ace were almost reaching you, more ghosts appeared. Guards who mistook Epel for a princess and made him furious.

He wanted to stay behind and fight them, but he remembered that it was you they were trying to save. And if there was anyone he wanted to prove his strength and courage to the most, it wasn't those ghosts, it was you.

Instead, he convinces Ace to stay behind. Or rather, he almost threatens him to stay behind. Ace commented that, really, with all that determination maybe he should be the one to face the princess, and he stayed to fight the guards.

When he arrived at the ceremony hall he was so angry about the whole situation that he didn't even try to hide it to deceive the princess.

“Listen here ya spoiled brat!” The guards, the princess and Vil gasped! “I'm fed up and tired of this crap! Go find someone who wants to actually marry ya instead of forcin´ someone to do it and save us all the headaches?!” The ghosts turn on him, telling him how foul-mouthed he is for the way he looks. “Looks don't define who I am! And I am not sorry if I'm insulting you! I don't need to be a tall and handsome prince on a white horse to fight for the one I love!” He said it in the heat of the moment and then immediately blushed like a red apple and fell silent.

The princess was surprised by his courage and determination despite his body and appearance. Even though she said it in a way that insulted Epel. And she began to wonder if she herself would have someone who would risk themselves so much in that way for her, regardless of their fragile bodies (once again insulting more than complimenting)

The guard who is in love with her takes this opportunity to declare his love, she discovers that she also likes him after all and they marry each other.

Despite the embarrassment, Epel runs to you and stays by your side the rest of the time. However, even though he is embarrassed by the declaration of love he made to you, he is very proud of himself because he managed to save you by being himself.

Lilia was already fighting some ghosts more for fun and defense than anything else.

And he remained in a playful mood as they explained that a student had been kidnapped by the princess to marry her. That mood only changed slightly when he heard your name.

On the outside, he continued to appear unconcerned about the situation, but in his head he was already drawing up a plan of attack and conquest.

Lilia asked to be in the last group, using the excuse that they should save the best and cutest candidates for last. Epel didn't like the comment very much.

If it were anyone else, he would take the whole rescue operation as a joke, but it's YOUR life that's at risk, so that was a battle.

He used what he observed from other groups along with his experience as a war general to come up with the best plan he could.

Needless to say, part of the plan was for him to get to you, so he used his persuasive charm to convince everyone else to stay behind and stop the guards whenever necessary.

He entered the ceremonial hall slamming both doors open.

“PRINCESS! I beg you to stop this wedding! You are making a mistake!” Everyone looked at him, curious. “I completely understand you wanting to marry (Y/N). But you deserve someone on your level, someone who understands your dreams and feelings. In other words... (Y/N) is at too high a level for you.” Everyone gasped, but his expression was one of pity for the princess, even though you knew it was just one of his masks. He knew perfectly well that he was insulting her and having fun with it. “I'm sure someone like them has a much higher standard, you wouldn't be able to satisfy them. It's going to be a headache for you to spend every day trying so hard to even reach the level of someone who deserves them.” He smiles innocently. “You should choose someone more on your level. One of your guards perhaps?”

At first the princess is upset and asks how Lilia could say something like that. But then, she starts to question whether he is right about you being in fact too good for her and becomes sad.

It is at this point that the guard who is in love with her enters the conversation to console her and ends up revealing his feelings for the princess.

They realize that their love is mutual and end up marrying each other.

Lilia ends up revealing to you that his plan was to make that guard declare himself. While everyone was focusing on the princess, he realized that the real target must be someone else.

“Oh, but I was being honest all the time. I do believe you deserve better. Actually, you deserve the best. On another note, don't you think I look so charming in this outfit? Does it not make you want to take the opportunity and marry me? Khee hee hee.”

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

YOU WILL STOP THE WEDDING! (Ghost Marriage/The Phantom Bride theme; Fluff; GN Reader; Declaration)

Riddle Rosehearts / Leona Kingscholar / Azul Ashengrotto / Jamil Viper / Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud / Malleus Draconia

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Wheels up [S. R]

word count: 4k

summary: Spencer has just been released from prison and things seem to get complicated when Mr. Scratch attacks again. You want to know what's going on with your boyfriend, but when you confront him, you don't expect him to yell at you like he does.

contents: spoilers for season 12-13, directly based on the episode of the same name, established relationship, hurt/comfort, spencer being mean for a moment, mentions of migraines and schizophrenia, apologies, crying and I think that's it.

To say that you were worried was an understatement, because to cut all the tension around the team you would no longer even need a knife but a sword.

You had just gotten over the bitter pill of the fact that your boyfriend had been unjustifiably imprisoned when now Scratch had done this: the ambush, Walker's death, Emily's kidnapping… he just couldn't seem to get enough of this sick game.

“We also never stopped to ask why Scratch was in Honduras in the first place,” Simmons murmured next to you.

García, he and you were trying to review as best as possible the existing research on Peter Lewis that you found in your deceased friend's office to see if you could discover any other details, even if it were the slightest thing that could reveal the whereabouts of your unit leader. 

“Reid'll figure this out. “He's really amazing at this kind of thing.”

Garcia had barely finished saying this when a roar made her jump in her place and look back. Spencer Reid had just furiously thrown a book against the glass windows. You exchanged a worried look with your friend and the three of you silently agreed to go to the meeting room to investigate what was happening.

When the doctor arrived, he began to rant about what he had managed to discover. He talked about hallucinogenic plants found in Honduras and how this was related to Scratch, but you honestly couldn't pay attention to anything he was saying. You could only focus on the purple spots around his eyes, his messy hair jumping every time he said something, the sweat that glistened on his forehead, the erratic and rushed tone of his words and how he constantly rubbed his face or neck. 

Spencer wasn't well. 

You had seen him like this when he had feared he was developing an outbreak of schizophrenia and you had hated every second you had accompanied him to get tested, every second of uncertainty, every time you knew his vision was blurring. And now this was a thousand times worse, because you didn't even know how to help him. Shit, you didn't even know if he wanted your help.

While he was in prison he had refused to see you many times and it had broken your heart every time. He claimed that he didn’t want other prisoners to see you talking to him because they would try to use you to threaten him or that he didn’t want you to see the state he was in because he feared that after seeing the bruises and wounds you would no longer love him.

You respected him, but at the same time you felt that he was building a barrier between you so that in case he couldn't get out of there you wouldn't be tied to a prisoner and could live your life normally. That was why when Emily managed to build a solid case to prove his innocence you felt like you were going to die of joy, and when you saw him leave the prison the first thing you did was run into his arms to make sure he was safe.

But Spencer wasn't, because you knew he had only left there so he could help look for his mother: Diana Reid. During the course of everything you had barely seen him, you two were too busy with your own affairs to have a moment as a couple, but even so when you solved everything you let him go with her; after all they deserved it and you were happy that he had a quiet moment.

But Peter Lewis seemed to have other plans.

“What?” Spencer asked, noticing the way Penelope was looking at him. She looked like she was about to cry behind her blue glasses and you felt sorry for her.

“You threw a book at a window. It was jarring”

“Took me 60 minutes to deduce what should have taken me 60 seconds,” he muttered, clearly sounding furious with himself, “and if Emily dies because I was too slow, I'll be throwing a lot more than books.”

“Spencer” you tried to stop him, but he had already started on his way to the exit.

You always wanted to believe that you were his weak point, he had told you that on more than one occasion. When the team couldn't reason with him, they sent you instead.

Reid will do anything you tell him, Morgan used to say, whether it's convincing him about something silly between friends or something more serious. 

And so it was, because every time he was upset all it took was for you to make flirtatious eyes at him and steal a kiss for him to forget about it.

One day you're going to be my downfall, did you know that? he used to laugh. You're going to ask me to bring the stars down from the sky and I'll have to figure out a way to do it because I don't know how to say you no.

However, this time he didn't seem to understand any reason. He was just walking towards the exit and you were stumbling after him to catch up with his quick pace.

“Spencer,” you insisted, reaching out to grab his arm in an attempt to stop him. You didn't expect him to stop abruptly to the point where you collided with his chest, in the middle of the desolate hallway you had arrived at.

“What?”

The sharp tone and angry look he gave you unnerved you slightly, but you managed to clear your throat in search of your voice.

“Honey, it's obvious that you're not fine. You need to rest"

"Rest?" he spat, incredulous. “Do you think I can think of resting when we have a situation like this?”

“That's not what I meant. I'm just saying that no one expects you to be here after what happened, you can at least take a break” 

The sigh he let out was enough for you to know that whatever was coming was surely not good.

“Huh yeah? And what is that break I'm going to take going to cost us? Emily’s life?”

“You know I'm as worried as you are.”

“I'm not worried, I'm sick. I'm sick of this damn case, I'm sick of one thing after another happening to us and I'm sick of failing." 

"I know but…"

“No,” he interrupted you, leaning back when you tried to lay a hand on him. “There's no but. Today I don't need you to tell me what I have to do” 

“I'm not telling you what to do, I'm asking you to take care of yourself. How much sleep have you even had? When was the last time you ate?"

Your tone of voice had come out more recriminating than you intended and if you were already tense, this exchange was not helping at all.

Hearing no response, you continued.

“If you're not going to rest, at least let me help you.”

You wanted him to have the confidence to tell you anything, to be able to explain why he was acting so strange or to at least take two minutes to admit that things weren't right. But Spencer had changed a lot in that prison, because if before it was difficult for him to talk about his feelings, now it seemed practically impossible. You were the only one he dared to do it with and you didn't even think you were that exception to the rule anymore.

If you had known what was to come you would have preferred to stay for the moment he took to take a deep breath.

“Do you know how you can help me? Stepping aside”

“Spencer”

“I'm sick of this too! I'm tired of everyone coming and offering me their faces of compassion and their words of encouragement as if they really understood me. They don't do it, nobody does it, not even you. This is... it is a huge and heavy accumulation that has accumulated for years and years and when I think that it can't be worse, life surprises me by saying that yes, it can be worse. So just shut up, let me do my job, let me catch Scratch and for the love of God stop treating me like I'm a child because on top of all the stress of the case I have to deal with that too and honestly it's killing me” 

Your boyfriend turned around without waiting for a response and a part of you was grateful that was the case, or else he would have seen the tears that had already gathered in your eyes.

You were shocked and felt your face burning with shame, with a hole in your stomach that wouldn't be easy to fill. You were no longer even worried about the man, nor sad, but you felt very different; it was as if Reid had infected you with his anger.

Still with wet cheeks you hurried to walk in the opposite direction, finding yourself at the end of the hallway to meet a very worried Penelope García. Without letting her tell you anything, you asked her to continue with the investigation and the entire time you swallowed your pain.

You knew that Peter Lewis' desperate face when he was hanging from that building and the way you and Luke left him to die would haunt you for a lifetime, but you didn't feel even the slightest bit sorry for it. Even a part of you wished that man had died a slower and perhaps even painful death. Whatever the case, he was gone and you could feel a second of peace at night.

Spencer was right, the most important thing now was to save Emily. Later there would be time to attend to marital discussions.

When you got home you were sweaty, tired, and had a headache that you knew a shower could probably solve, adding a glass of good wine just to be safe. However, clinging to that peace of mind that solving the case had provided you was only a mechanism to postpone confronting the problem that was still latent. You hadn't spoken to Spencer for the rest of the day since your fight in the hallway and although your heart ached you knew this was the prudent thing to do.

Fighting had never had a place in your relationship because both of you were too rational to be carried away by impulse. You had disagreements and arguments, but you had tried to resolve them like adults or you had let the matter rest until you were cool-headed enough to speak calmly. You suspected that right now you were doing the latter, but you knew for a fact that you wouldn't be the one who would look for your boyfriend to talk to.

You were hurt by the way he had reacted to your advice, but a part of you also understood that Spencer had been going through too much and that, in some ways, he had some right to want his own space. Or maybe both of you were partly to blame; you for demanding something that didn't belong to you and him for not having said things tactfully enough.

But you couldn't help but miss him. You had spent so many months away from him that you longed to be in his arms, shower him with kisses and hear the soft beat of his heart just to make sure he was real.

Still lost in your thoughts you searched the living room for your briefcase to grab your cell phone, hoping to find something to distract yourself, and upon unlocking it you discovered that you had several missed calls from Spencer. It wasn't like you were ignoring him on purpose, rather it had been an oversight on your part, but when you were about to dial his number a new call was announced on the screen. It was him.

"Hello?"

“There you are,” he murmured, sounding tremendously relieved “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I just left the phone in my briefcase and that's why I didn't hear your calls. I'm sorry"

There was silence for an awkward moment and then he spoke again.

“You went home early.”

"I was tired. I told Emily.”

“Yes, she… he told me, but… Do you think I can see you? I would like to talk to you about something and I don't think it is appropriate to do so on the phone.”

You evaluated your options, looking at everything around you. Spencer was welcome whenever he wanted in your house and you knew a mess wouldn't matter to him, but you were more worried about him noticing the emotional mess, not the physical one.

“Y/N?”

“Yes,” you responded when you heard your name, without thinking too much. “You can come”

Spencer responded with a monosyllable and then he hung up. You were about to get up from the couch to look for something more decent than colorful pajamas when a knock on the door startled you. When there was no response, the person knocked again and when you tiptoed until you reached the peephole, you met a familiar silhouette who was visibly nervous. Apparently the look of confusion on your face when you opened it was enough to express a silent question to Spencer.

“I was in the hallway,” he explained to you. “I didn't want to take long if you said yes.”

You knew you shouldn't give in so easily, but it was hard when Spencer said things like that and he came to your house looking completely disoriented, sad, and regretful.

"Can I come in?" he asked. Although your silences were not with that intention, the truth was that you were making him even more nervous.

"Yeah, you can”

You turned around only when you heard the click of the door closing and leaned against it, waiting for him to say something. You took a moment to observe him and noticed that his clothes were slightly disarrayed, while his hands played with the leather strap that was still across his chest. When he noticed that you were looking at his hands he interpreted it as a sign to get rid of the garment, and so he did.

“Wine?”

“Rossi gave it to me,” you responded, following his gaze to the bottle on the coffee table along with the crystal glass.

Spencer opened his mouth slightly in understanding and then there was silence again.

“I think it's obvious why I'm here, right?” he murmured in a low, cautious voice. You looked at him with sealed lips. “I want to apologize.”

“Yeah?”

"Yes. I know I shouldn't have talked to you like that in the office”

“No, you shouldn't have done it,” you responded sternly “And I accept if you don't want me around, but…”

“No,” he interrupted you, lunging forward to take your hands. You didn't refuse. “It's not that. I want you close, I don't want you to go away”

“I want you close too, Spencer. And I care about you. That's why I tell you things, not because I want to bother you."

“I know not. I was wrong, okay? I was wrong and I had no right to yell at you just because I was upset. And I wasn't upset with you, I was upset about the case and… it was just too much. This is all too much” by this point Spencer’s voice had already broken and your arms were already open for him.

It didn't take much for your boyfriend to start sobbing.

"I'm sorry"

“I know, Spencer.”

"I was an idiot"

“Yes, you certainly were,” you responded, speaking barely above a whisper. You couldn't stop feeling empathy for your boyfriend, but you couldn't ignore your own pain either. “You made me feel so hurt.”

“Forgive me, you know that was not my intention.”

“I just want to see you well. I want you to be safe and help you, but you won't let me do it. And it's okay if you don't want my help, but you can't deny that you need help. We need help. Do you think I wasn't stressed too? Do you think I could care less about finding Emily?”

“I know not. I know…” he sobbed.

“And I understand that we were both going through a hard time but you had no right to treat me like that.”

"You hate me?"

“Of course I don't hate you. I love you very much and I always will, but when something bad happens we don't yell at each other. And I'm not hating you for this, did you hate me that time in Georgia when I went into negotiating in that hostage situation without consulting anyone?

"No. I was very angry and worried about you, but I would never have hated you.”

"You see it? It's the same” you said softly.

You weren't going to torture him with this and you didn't want him to kneel and ask for forgiveness, the message you wanted to give him was already more than clear. And you knew that the simple act of accepting his mistake was something that showed you that he cared about you.

“It won't happen again, I promise.”

“Oh, it may happen again. We are both dumb sometimes and the older we get the grumpier we become” you tried to joke. Although you didn't hear him laugh, you knew that it had lightened the atmosphere. “But talking about it makes him feel better, right? Just like now”

He nodded at your question and then your hand went up to his head to stroke his hair. The contact seemed to melt him against you, as if with this you had also given free rein to his crying. You knew he probably wasn't going to tell you about the horrors he'd experienced in prison yet, but maybe this moment could be a start; you were being honest with each other and after all that was what was important.

Spencer calmed down after a long while and when you separated you made sure to get him some napkins so he could wipe his tears and blow his nose.

“You're seriously not upset at me?”

“No,” you assured him, shaking your head at the same time. You approached him and raised your hands to his cheeks to hold him gently. “It's okay, Spencer. I would be upset if you hadn't apologized."

“I wanted to do it sooner, but I knew that maybe you needed time to… you know, not want to strangle me”

“You're always so smart,” you complimented him and this time he did laugh.

The man's hands were experimentally placed on your waist and upon noticing your approving smile he pulled you a little closer to him until you collided against his chest. The puffiness in his eyes didn't stop him from giving you a sweet look.

“I haven't kissed you since I came back,” he observed absently and after thinking about it for a second you realized it was true.

You hadn't even kissed him. You had gone three months without seeing him and you still hadn't had time to kiss him.

You opened your mouth slightly, but before you could say anything he had already leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. With the help of your hand sliding to the back of his neck you deepened the contact and Spencer wasted no time, wrapping his thin arms around your torso.

Even if you didn't want to admit it, you had already forgotten how good it felt to kiss him and amid everything you thought that you wished you could capture that moment in a jar to turn to it when necessary. Because after everything that had happened that day you really needed that moment of peace with him.

His lips were slightly parted, but your gentle tongue took care of moistening them and when the air began to fail you just let him go for a second, kissing him again when you breathed enough. Your kisses were sweet and soft enough to dissipate the rest of the guilt that remained in your lover's body.

"Better?" you asked once you two were satisfied. It took him a moment to compose himself from the intoxication of your kiss to be able to answer you.

"Yes, I feel better"

“How is Diana, by the way?” you said quietly, leaning back a little to look him in the eyes.

“She is fine, I managed to admit her to a sanatorium before García called me. It will only be for tonight, tomorrow I will look for where she can stay permanently” he answered you, rubbing his tired face with a hand “I think it would be best for us to return to Las Vegas”

“You should go to her now” it hurt you to give him that advice, but you knew that he must have other priorities now. One of your hands kindly caressed his bicep, feeling how he had lost considerably in weight.

“You don't want me to stay here?”

“I don't want you to feel obligated. I know Diana needs you more than me."

“She'll be fine today,” he murmured. Apparently he wanted to be with you more than you thought. “I left my number and she'll be asleep right now. As much as he wants to deny it, I think… that she is better off with professionals”

“So you want to stay here?”

You had sounded more excited than you intended and just because of the sparkle in your eyes he felt the urge to steal another kiss from you.

"Of course I want to. I missed you so much, I just want to feel you close to me."

“I can stay only if you promise me two things.”

“What is it?”

“We’re going to try to sleep,” you asked him, passing the tip of your index fingers under his eyes. “I don't like that look at all and I think you could use some rest. I have a comfortable bed waiting just for you.”

“I'd love that,” he smiled weakly. “What's the second thing?”

“Tomorrow you will let me cook you something delicious before we go to your mother.”

The thought of you spoiling him so much made him smile.

"Done deal"

You carefully guided him to your room and once there you kissed him again. Spencer felt like he was going to cry again when he noticed that you still had the change of clothes that he had left in your closet over three months ago and the soft fabric along with the familiar scent filled his chest with joy.

You two snuggled under the warmth of the sheets and you made sure to kiss your lover's face countless times while your hands touched every piece of skin you had within reach, trying to show him that he didn't have to worry about anything; you wanted him to know that you loved him and that he was somewhere safe.

"Are you okay?"

You spoke in the middle of the darkness, while Spencer had his full weight on top of yours. His nose rubbed slightly against your bare skin and he found it necessary to leave another kiss there.

“I am now.”

And even if it only lasted for a brief moment, Spencer knew that nothing compared to the peace and tranquility of being with you.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @instabull @rhiannonhippiegirl @r-3dlips @missabsey @olivia’s-25

[nemisuki]

Just Smile

Idol AU | Attending yet another group signing event has developed into a routine. But what you’re looking forward to most is speaking to your favorite member of the group. And seems like he expects you too. Being a fan since his debut has always been so rewarding.  

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, no manga spoilers, no nsfw, pure fluff, protective bkg, minor jealousy, silly moments, extroverted reader, open to interpretation, can be just platonic or romance, 2.1k word count 

"Next!"

The smile on her face brightens as she approaches the table. Clutching the brown gift bag in her arms as she follows the staff member. A routine she’s gotten used to by now. 

She takes a seat in front of the desk, her gaze landing on the person across from her.

Unable to hide her emotions, she begins to laugh at his facial expression when he sees her.

"What's with the giggles huh?" he rolls his eyes, already grabbing a sharpie and twisting the cap off with expertise. 

"Well hello to you too! And I'm laughing because you look extra grumpy today. Hang in there Bakugo, you still have about an hour left or so!"

"I ain’t grumpy, stupid. Just that a extra gave me a plushie with a damn camera in it, creepy fucks" he mumbles with furrowed brows as he starts signing group merchandise for her.

Obvious disgust in his tone at the whole situation. 

Her eyes soften in a sympathetic gaze at his words, "Gosh I’m sorry about that. But I'm glad you found out quickly, who knows if they put a tracker in it."

"Don't apologize for the freak, we're used to it" he replies with a dismissive wave of his hand, giving her the signed goodies a few seconds later. 

He stares at her as she takes the items with a bright smile, "You know I watched the music video like 100 million times when it first came out a week ago! Your stylist did amazing for the other members, but that jacket you had? Stunning!"

"Hmph piece of shit was hard to dance in though. So…. you gonna hand over whatever is in the bag or what?"

Deciding to tease him a little, she shrugs her shoulders and hums, "Sorry but this isn't for you it's for someone else."

For a split second, she can see surprise take over his face. She could only watch as his facial reactions grow more sour at the implication of her words. 

"The fuck?" he crosses his arms, mentally listing off possible reasons on why she didn't get him anything this time. Unknowing to the bitter facial expression that just took over him.

If it's one thing he's confident in, it's that she'll bring him gifts at every fan signing event.

Sure she always brings the other idols of the group some goodies too but, Y/N always brings him extra.

Because he's her bias.

Of course he’s her favorite.

So what gives?

His red eyes are practically drilling holes in that brown bag she's holding. As if it committed a crime right in front of him.

Seeing a clear sign of jealousy from the blonde, she bursted into laughter and began pulling the items out.

"I'm just teasing, relax! I got you some spicy snacks, and yes before you ask, the spiciest level I could find."

She slides over the assortment of chips and candies towards him. To which he takes and analyzes them, not forgetting to send a mini glare her way due to her little joke.

Despite that, the previous tension in his body seems to fade away.

"Oh guess what! I finally managed to collect every one of your photocards, can you sign my album?" she says, proudly taking out the small book with her prized collection inside.

"Do I even wanna know how much you wasted on all these?" he grumbles, flipping through the pages.

Frankly he is shocked she managed to get them all. He constantly refuses to do such ‘outrageous’ things. But his contract always manages to be used against him. 

He wasn’t one too back down however. 

Hence after many arguments with management, he settled by having his specific photocards become harder to find than any other member. Only releasing a limited amount to the public. 

The blonde takes notice of the small decorations she put throughout the small binder. Stickers and past ticket receipts glued onto some of the pages. Even some confetti from their concerts were stapled on there.

It's the thought of her picking up confetti from the stadium floor that has him stifling a laugh in his hand. His shoulders shaking from hidden amusement.

Her eyes slightly widen in shock, it's not often he's so carefree like this. Especially driven to the point of laughter.

But she's thankful to whatever deity is on her side today.

Before he seemed a bit irritated due to the prior fan experience. At least now he's lightened up.

"Wha- hey don't laugh! I had to fight someone on ebay for the special christmas edition card you know!" she adds on, hoping to prolong his cheerful attitude.

"You're so stupid" he mutters under his small chuckles, finally getting a grip after a few seconds. His neutral expression back on his face, but his relaxed posture says otherwise.

His fingers point to the reason for his good spirits, "Why the hell did you staple these flimsy pieces of confetti in here? The color is starting to fade."

"Oh thattttt, it's from your group's first concert when you debuted! I had to keep something to remember that day!"

As he listens to her words, he flips back to the first page, beginning to sign the album with extra precision. Making sure it looks neat in between the silly decorations. 

She's the first one to achieve the completed album after all.

Y/N was definitely one of his first fans since the group debuted.

It's been years since they met at the group's earliest fan events. Honestly it has gotten to the point where he looks for her in the crowd of every concert and event they host these days.

He knows she'll be there. She always is.

Hell, the girl even made a fan account for him. He even dropped a follow a long time ago. Which to this date, is the only other account outside of his group members, that he follows.

Bakugo can still remember the way she showed up to the fan event the next day, practically bawling her eyes out and thanking him.

Her eyes were so puffy and it was a hilarious sight to him.

Somehow everything she does was unpredictable.

"1 more minute"

The group manager reminds everyone.

Bakugo simply rolls his eyes at the pestering voice nearby. Y/N now pouting at the reminder, "I swear the time gets shorter at every fan event!"

"The more fans, the shorter the time. You know this already."

"Hmph I remember when it used to be 5 minutes not 3!"

He hums in acknowledgment. Today was a rare occasion, usually he’d outright refuse to join the other members in events like these.

Though he doesn't mind the time being shortened, some fans are too much or don't even talk at all.

Too intimidated to speak one on one with him compared to the other members.

Not like he was much of a talker in the first place. 

But Bakugo would be lying if he said he didn't want more time with her specifically, "You're coming to the next concert right?"

"Of course!" she shouts out, giving him a look like he’s crazy for even thinking she wouldn’t go.

He gives her a small nod while grabbing the snacks from earlier. Putting them under his desk to save for later, "What row?" 

"Front row this time~" she says squealing with delight, taking out her phone to show him. 

He looks at her screen as she leans over the desk so he can have a better look. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices his bodyguard tensing, clearly wondering if he should intervene.

The blonde simply lifts his hand up to stop him. To which the guard obeys and stays put. 

His gaze goes back on her phone, taking a mental note of what seat number she was gonna be in, "Best view huh?"

"Mhm gotta film for insta! All your fans want me to do a close up fan cam for the new songs. So do your best!"

"Tch I always do amazing, ya idiot" he huffs in her direction.

"30 seconds"

Y/N's smile returns as she holds up her phone, "Before I go, can I get a photo with you Bakugo? It's for your fans, pretty pleaseeeee?"

He groans at her request, he frequently denies such demands from fans but for her-

"Then open the damn camera already. We don’t have much time" he grumbles towards her.

She giggles at his blunt response and quickly scrolls to open her camera app. Clicking the front facing feature and holding up the phone so they can both fit in the frame.

He doesn't move to pose at all. Just sitting there as he stares at the camera with crossed arms over his chest.

Looking like a statue. 

"Aw c'mon, what's with that stoic look? No smile?" she teases while holding in another laugh.

"You're a damn pain" he says, seemingly annoyed but leaning over the table, much to her surprise.

He is considerably close now, staring at the camera as he sticks out the middle finger.

She takes the photo before she can register his pose, then dramatically gasps, "Bakugo! You'll get in trouble! Do another pose, I can't post that!"

"Tch the fuck else am I supposed to do? I ain't doing no damn peace sign."

"Oh! Here, do this!" she uses her other hand to form half a heart, looking at him expectantly to copy her moves.

He stares at the hand gesture, clearly confused, then copies it while staring at the camera, "the hell is this?"

She puts her hand against his, making a full heart as she shines a bright smile, then snapping pics not a moment later.

He finally seems to notice the shape and gives her a small frown, "You're a piece of shit."

"Pftttt this is why you need to be on social media more, or you wouldn't have fallen for it!" she begins cackling as she looks back at the series of photos. His confused look morphing into one of irritation.  

"Take another one, dumbass!"

"Aghhhh fine fine!"

She cuts him some slack and goes to take another one. Now posing with a small finger heart aimed towards the camera.

He stares at her for a few seconds, seemingly in thought.

Then abruptly, deciding to rest his chin on her shoulder. Looking at the camera with a calm expression.

Y/N clicks the button and snaps the photo.

Frankly a bit shy at his pose selection. 

She didn’t even have time to address it since the fans who'd been seated, already began getting up to rotate to the next idol.

He seems to notice how quiet she got and bites back a knowing grin, lifting his head off her shoulder and ruffling her hair.

Guess she’ll always be a fangirl at heart huh. Despite how long they’ve known each other. 

"I'll see you at the concert then" he mutters in a softer voice, that only a rare few get to hear.

He's not a man of many words at events such as these, but his eyes speak for themselves. Those red eyes are so piercing that she has to look away for a second to register her words.

A bashful smile takes on her face as she nods, "Mhm I'll see you!"

She slowly gets up and waves bye to him before walking away, sitting at the other spot with another one of the members.

His gaze lingers on her for a moment, the sound of approaching footsteps making him snap out of his daydream. 

The group manager speaks from behind, "Bakugo, you already know the rules. You should refrain from touching your fans-"

"Her name is Y/N" the blonde swiftly states, interrupting whatever nonsense the other man was gonna say. 

"And no need to lecture me like I'm a rookie. I never touch fans in the first place” he looks back at the guy with a harsh glare, threatening him to continue.  

"Yes I am aware. But with that girl.."

"She's the exception."

The manager's eyes immediately filled with disbelief, looking at Bakugo for further clarification. He was always a bit softer with that girl in particular. But he never confronted the blonde about it till now. 

Bakugo simply gets his sharpie out for the next approaching fan, seemingly unbothered by his previous statement.

"Oh and don't call her a fan either. She's more than that."

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ     ⎯⎯ ✦

“-and post!”

A yawn escapes her a few seconds later and she soon decides to call it a night.

She lays down in the comfort of her own bed, resting her head on the plush pillow. Sleeping with a peaceful expression on her face.

Unknowing to the uproar happening on social media.

Katsuki Bakugo was trending online.

The reason? You’re photo with him.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

a/n ||| This is inspired by my current fixation! Recently I’ve been trying to get into kpop to see what the hype was about. Someone recommended TXT for a beginner like myself so I started binge watching their videos for about 2 weeks now. I’m still a massive newbie tho so I’m unfamiliar with lots of stuff regarding kpop. But all the members seem so sweet omg I already love them hehe (also they’re all so pretty like what the hell are those genetics? I’m jealous asf)

[autobots-one-half]

the Nerima Wrecker Crews' Guide to Ranma Fandom for Newcomers

With the release this month of a brand new anime adaptation of the eighties manga Ranma ½, a lot of new fans are joining an older fandom that may leave them...confused about some details.

See, when the Ranma manga began in 1987, series creator Rumiko Takahashi was already solidly-established from her success with the runaway hit Urusei Yatsura. It only took two years for an anime adaptation to begin airing....for a mere eighteen episodes, before being canceled. If you go back to the '89 anime, you will almost certainly notice some drastic shifts in art style and tone from the first eighteen episodes to the remainder, and that's because only a single season was produced by Studio DEEN before production shifted to a new directorial crew, who dubbed the following season Ranma ½ Nettōhen (Fierce/Hot Battle Chapter).

The thing is, between the original eighteen episodes being made while the manga was still relatively early in its nine-year run, attempts to draw in better ratings by heavily promoting fan-favorite characters, a need for filler episodes to let the manga catch up to the pace of the anime's releases, and even the biases and friendships of the respective directors and writers...some things wound up being different.

And as a result, the Ranma ½ of the Eighties and Nineties is very different from what we're going to get with the 2024 anime. The 2024 series is based on a manga that had been finished for decades, and between the official releases so far and some unfortunate early leaks, it shows plenty of signs of being far more faithful to the original manga.

So, we of the Nerima Wreckers' Crew are here to introduce you to a few of the things you might run into as a new Ranma ½ fan exploring the existing fan content that has accrued over the past few decades!

Be aware: you're about to read spoilers for a four decades old manga. Questions about something that we don't cover in this post? Leave a comment asking for more, after the jump!

Something to get out of the way first: we're the NWC as an in-joke: as both Transformers and Ranma fans (and in some cases, fictive introjects), we wanted to combine the 'Wreckers' group name from Transformers with the English-language Ranma ½ fandom's nickname for the group of martial artists, students, teachers, monsters, and other characters who populate the series:

The Nerima Wrecking Crew.

The principal setting of Ranma ½ is Nerima, a ward of the metropolis of Tokyo. There are 23 special wards, and Nerima is a real-life one that is found in the northwest of Tokyo—in fact, it was the 23rd and final ward! In English-language communications, the local government identifies the ward as Nerima City, so that's how we'll speak of it here.

Nerima is a large city that still retains a very suburban, even exurban character stretching back to its history of farming. There are even still farms within the city limits, including at least one dairy farm last we checked! It's part of Tokyo, but it has a kid of old-fashioned peaceful character...that makes it the perfect place for anime characters to disrupt. That kind of disruption led the English-speaking fandom to dub our favorite crew of violent martial artists the "Wrecking Crew", presumably after their propensity to bust down walls and buildings.

A lot of anime and manga take place in Nerima. Takahashi's previous hit series Urusei Yatsura, the cat-robot classic All-Purpose Cultural Cat-Girl Nuku-Nuku, the anime adaptation of Stop!! Hibari-Kun, even Tokyo Ghoul...okay, some of these are not quite the same genre as the others.

This is often attributed to the large number of anime studios based in the city, but Ranma's adventures in Nerima have a special bond with the environment that seems to go beyond, stretching back to the original manga. Ranma is often seen walking along (or falling from) fencetops above canals just like the above image from Wikimedia, and scenes set in nearby parks map fairly well to specific ones in Nerima City, so we can generally assume that the neighborhood where the Tendō Dojo is found is roughly in the Ōizumi area along the Shirako River seen above.

More specifically, it's in an imaginary neighborhood somewhere nebulously within those boundaries, a neighborhood that parts of the older fandom know as Furinkan-chō, AKA "Furinkan Town", after the Furinkan High School that Ranma and Akane attend—drawing a connection to the more official identification of the cast of Urusei Yatsura as living in Tomobiki-chō and attending Tomobiki High School.

A sober, dignified edifice to education...populated by a bunch of martial arts lunatics.

Some of whom are probably going to be pretty different in the new anime!

Meet the principal of Furinkan High School. Yes, this is a native Japanese man. Yes, he has problems.

Principal, Headmaster, or in Japanese Kunō-kōchō (no given name provided) is, unfortunately, the unfortunate father of the equally unfortunate series mainstay Tatewaki Kunō. The Principal here visited the USA for a while in order to learn from our education methods and came back an even worse problem than he'd left, becoming obsessed with the trappings of Hawai'ian tourism and the English language. In the original Japanese, his dialogue is heavily peppered with random English words and phrases (and an obnoxious Woody Woodpecker-style laugh).

The thing is, it's hard to translate a character randomly speaking English...into English. So, the official English translations of the original manga and anime had the Principal badly pepper his speech with Hawai'ian Pidgin phrases. It's going to be a little while before he shows up in the new anime, so it's hard to say for sure how he'll be translated...but it probably won't be that. So, new fans: you're probably going to encounter a few fanworks where there's a random fake-Hawai'ian man threatening teenagers with bad haircuts.

Teenagers like Hikaru Gosunkugi.

This is Gosunkugi. You'll probably see him next season, because we're going to perform acts of supervillainy if they don't make a second season. He shows up pretty early on in the manga, and has an important role to play in a major storyline...but he didn't show up in the original anime for 94 episodes after he was supposed to appear.

What we got instead was Sasuke Sarugakure. There's some debate about exactly why the anime-only character Sasuke was added: a diminutive ninja with thick eyebrows, prominent whiskers, buck teeth, and a miserable lot in life as the Kunō family servant. Seemingly...the only servant. Sasuke's role in the original anime seemed to have been not only to fill in for Gosunkugi in an early storyline, but to act as a comedic foil to the overblown antics of the Kunō family—especially absurd since the anime took the already comical wealth of the Kunōs from the manga, and exaggerated it to an absurd degree that seems all the more ridiculous when you learn that Sasuke sleeps in the crawlspace and gets by on fewer than three meals a day.

Oddly, this characterization as a comically impoverished ninja is a recurring bit in Takahashi's stories: Urusei Yatsura featured the job-hunting missing-nin Kaede, and the last few volumes of the Ranma ½ manga introduced the threadbare kunoichi Konatsu.

Get used to this image. It's probably all you're going to see of Konatsu for a good few seasons...because the original anime never got to that part of the manga.

Konatsu is a thorny topic in the fandom due to matters of gender that aren't helped by the original anime never getting to those stories, and the original manga chapters taking forever to be available in English. What can definitely be said is that Konatsu A: identifies as a kunoichi, specifically a title for female ninja, and B: is AMAB.

But this is a series that's all about playing with gender.

For example...

The Girl. An anime-only episode of Nettōhen presented a story of Ranma taking a blow to the head, waking up not long after and insisting on actually being a girl—identifying her life as a boy as being something akin to a bad dream. This version of Ranma knows she was assigned male and turns back into a male body when splashed with hot water, but she demonstrates a visceral dysphoria about it that is painfully relatable. The episode's plot is concluded and the status quo is restored when the pacifistic girl is struck once more in the head at the end, restoring the Ranma who is a confident martial artist and self-identified man among men...but an increasing number of highly-rated fanworks reference this single-episode anime-only story.

This isn't the only time an anime-only episode touches on the idea of Ranma who is solely identified as a girl:

Ranma and the Evil Within starts off with Ranma joking about staying a girl forever, only for it to be taken seriously by the recurring problematic antagonist Happōsai (seriously, he's just the worst, and for some reason the original anime production team decided to make lots of anime-only episodes featuring him). A magic incense is brought into play, splitting off all the femnine 'yin' from Ranma's masculine 'yang'.

This split-off half is characterized as unbalanced, magically powerful, and a threat to Ranma's life. So of course, she looks sick as fuck. But just like The Girl, she's a one-off character. Don't worry: if the anime runs long enough to cover all the manga storylines, we'll still get a story about a female-only duplicate of Ranma. But it's going to be a little while.

Speaking of girls in Ranma ½, let's touch on Akane's female friends!

Mostly going unnamed in the manga, Akane has several female classmates and friends who received more prominent roles in the old anime.

(gif by @roseillith)

The two most notable of these are Yuka (lighter brown hair), and Sayuri (darker brown, often in a ponytail). These names do get called out in the old version of the anime, though they don't seem to have much personality beyond "girls who are friends with each other and Akane".

This role is sometimes filled by others in the old anime. It's much harder to find episodes where any other girls in the class are named, but due to two of them recurring, fanworks often bring them up as Akane's other friends:

Meet Asami (wavy shoulder-length hair) and Hiroko (short hair and freckles)...or is that Makoto and Shikako? Sources vary on these names, and English language websites disagree on which are the 'official' names. If anyone can track down an episode where either one is named on-screen, we'd appreciate it!

Akane isn't the only one with school friends: Ranma's got a few recurring acquaintances among the male students, as well.

In the old anime, these two are specifically named as Hiroshi (lighter colored hair and wider eyes) and Daisuke (dark hair and narrow eyes). They're often treated by both the source material and fanworks as Ranma's sole "normal" guy friends, and in general behave like stereotypical high school boys...including openly lusting after Ranma's girl form, even after they learn that she and the male Ranma are one and the same.

Hiroshi and Daisuke show up more consistently as a pair than Akane's friends in both the manga and the original anime, and fanworks often pair them romantically with Yuka and Sayuri. But even with how common Hiroshi, Daisuke, Yuka, and Sayuri are (down to their incredibly average names), they deserve mentioning for new fans...

...Because the new anime renamed them all! "Hiroshi" is now "Shingo" (しんご), "Daisuke" is now "Kiichi" (きいち), "Yuka" is now "Noriko" (のりこ), and "Sayuri" is now "Tomoyo" (ともよ).

That's it for now, because there's a brand new episode out that we haven't had a chance to watch while we wrap up this post on our lunch break. Until next time, this is the Nerima Wrecker Crew, signing off!

[lizzybeeee]

DATV Spoilers - The Handling of Previous Story/Lore In DATV

Quick PSA: If you’ve read my post on the lore/story threads dropped – it’s not a list of what I expected or even wanted to see addressed/answered in DATV.

It’s pretty much a given that Kieran and the Architect were never going to come back in any meaningful way, I understand that. Questions about what happened to Anora, Anders, Cullen’s clinic etc...never expected to get an answer about them – at all. The line of succession in Ferelden and Orlais? I expected that sometime down the line it would have to be streamlined into one option for both nations, not a problem – there’s so many choices it’s impossible to account for, and I understand that.

This is just a list of plot threads left unanswered that will, most likely, remain unanswered.

There’s no DLC planned – the team is working on Mass Effect 5 now. There’s no conclusion to the fate of the south of Thedas outside of some codex entries and some dialogue. They can patch the Executors cutscene out, maybe - perhaps they could even do the same to anything relating to the south of Thedas. Yes, these areas were not completely destroyed by the Blight – they can rebuild – but it comes across as being so meaningless that I ever cared for these places in the first place. To learn that after ten years of waiting all we cared for get devastated and left in limbo...it’s hard to put into words the bitterness I felt at that realization, and seeing that final cut-scene drove the nail into the coffin of how foolish I felt for even caring in the first place.

A codex entry or letter would have been nice – but my expectations for DATV was solely for a good story that added to the lore and world of Thedas. Instead, it felt entirely reductive – glaringly so when you account for the ‘Executives’ twist.

The world of Thedas has been watered down and its worldbuilding/lore diminished - slavery in Tevinter is non-existent, the Crows being an organization that indoctrinated children is never touched upon, any mystery of ancient Tevinter and the elves is answered (badly!), the Dalish have effectively disappeared and become the Veil Jumpers...it all feels so hollow, so shallow, that I ever cared about these things in the first place.

The issue is that the dev’s gave us only three choices, told us that as the story was contained to the north of Thedas – that our other choices weren’t relevant to the rest of the game with their intent being to not effect anyone's head-canons...before doing so with ‘the blight has devastated most of everywhere you went previously’.

These were story/plot threads that were woven throughout the narrative of the first three games – the things that made me care and become invested in the world of Thedas to begin with. In a game that was set-up to be a direct sequel to Inquisition and Trespasser I hoped that, at least, what was brought up in Inquisition would be mentioned.

Perhaps my list is a little too detailed with plot threads and issues – if anything that can be attributed to the incredible world-building done in the first three games! I love those games, I love the world of Thedas...which is why this game utterly baffles me with its choices.

Dragon Age: The Veilguard is a good game but not a good Dragon Age game.

----------------------------------

Edit: DATV absolutely has a lot of problems outside of its handling of the lore and story of the previous games. I would not say its a good rpg in any sense, but as a weird 'action-adventure rpg lite' game I did have some fun moments and enjoy myself. Would I recommend it to anyone? Absolutely not.

I heard someone describe it as a 'junk food' game and I very much agree with that statement. I found enjoyment in it, but to do so I usually had to turn off my brain, which is not a compliment towards DATV.

The game released very well optimized (especially considering how most companies are content to release half-baked games and patch them later) and did create some really interesting visual set-pieces like the Battle of Weisshaupt. But those moments I enjoyed were few and far between, and far overwhelmed by the negatives of the game - such as story, lack of conversation/conflict/role-play options, bad character writing etc...

Calling the game 'good' is, perhaps, a stretch, and I totally get that. Calling it 'mediocre with some good parts' may be more accurate.

[brainddeadd]

Bookworm

I know quinn is a reader, but this is more like he reads 30 books a year, and she reads 70+

The sunlight filtered through the window, casting a warm glow over the living room. You were nestled on the couch, completely engrossed in the latest fantasy novel, the pages whispering secrets that felt like your own. The world outside faded away, replaced by vivid landscapes and characters that danced in your imagination.

Quinn entered the room, his hockey gear slung over his shoulder, but the moment he caught sight of you, his face broke into a soft smile. You looked so at home, surrounded by the cushions, a blanket draped over your legs, and a cup of tea perched on the side table, steam rising like a gentle embrace.

“Still lost in another world?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice as he dropped his gear on the floor.

You looked up, your eyes sparkling with excitement. “You have no idea how good this one is! The plot twists are insane, and the characters are so well developed. I can’t believe I waited this long to read it!”

Quinn chuckled, making his way over to you. “I might not read as much as you do, but I can see how much you love it. You should take a break, though. You’ve been in that book for hours.”

“I can’t help it! I’m almost at the climax!” you replied, animatedly waving the book in the air. “Just give me a few more minutes?”

“Alright, I can work with that.” He leaned against the wall, watching you with fondness. “But I’ll be right here. You know, I was thinking…” His voice trailed off, and you looked up, intrigued.

“What?” you asked, curiosity piqued.

“How about we plan a little book date this weekend? I can pick out a few books, and we can read together. Maybe even some new releases? I know that bookstore downtown has a great selection.”

Your heart fluttered at the idea. “Really? You’d do that?”

“Of course! I want to feed your obsession,” he replied with a wink. “Plus, I could use a break from the ice. Books are a perfect excuse to hang out with you, don’t you think?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a warm flush creeping across your cheeks. “You’re the best, Quinn. I’d love that.”

He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“No spoilers. I want to experience all those plot twists myself.”

You grinned, knowing he was joking but feeling the warmth of his support wash over you. “Deal. But you might have to fight me for the last chapter. I’m a fast reader, you know.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he replied, a playful glint in his eyes.

As you settled back into your book, Quinn found a seat nearby, pulling out his phone but often glancing over at you, enchanted by your passion. In that moment, surrounded by the comforting scent of books and the warmth of Quinn's presence, you felt truly understood and cherished.

[callsign-rogueone]

you're somebody else - b.s.

Brennan Sorrengail x Reader words: 1.7k 🏷: IRON FLAME SPOILERS. reader uses she/her pronouns. angst, angst, angst (but a happy ending!) blood, discussion of injury, scars and stitches. inspired by / titled after the song by flora cash

Your fiancé has been dead for six years. You’d read his name on the death roll, and burned his belongings in an offering to Malek. 

Now he’s standing thirty feet away from you with both of his sisters, breathing and moving, reacting to something they’d said.

He’s alive.

Your grip on your bag falters, and it falls to the floor with a soft thud. 

Everyone’s eyes turn to you. The younger of the two Sorrengail girls recognizes you instantly, her lips parting in shock as she takes you in for the first time since Brennan’s graduation from Basgiath. 

Her gaze shifts to her brother, whose eyes are now locked with yours. You look like you’ve seen a ghost, unable to pull your eyes away from the man in front of you. 

You make no move toward him; don’t leap into his arms like he’d imagined for years, don’t hug him as tightly as you can, don’t cry tears of happiness. Your boots are still glued to the polished floor of the hall. 

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, “I…”

You flinch at his voice, the sound you’ve only heard in dreams for the last six years.

The tall man standing beside him, who you distantly recognize to be Fen Riorson’s son, motions for the two girls to leave.

“It’s good to see you again,” Violet says softly. You’ve always had a soft spot for her, had written her letters after you’d gotten the news, sharing in her grief. 

Mira only gives you a lingering glance as she follows her sister, leaving you alone with Brennan.

“You’re hurt,” he says gently, seeing the tear in the right thigh of your pants and the bloody gash beneath it. “Can I mend you?”

You remain silent, but you nod once in affirmation.

You pretend the hands on your leg belong to anyone else, keeping your eyes forward while he kneels in front of you, working to close the wound.

He finally speaks. “My love, I’m so-”

“Please don’t call me that,” you interrupt, and he feels a pain rival to that of the arrow he’d taken to the chest, the one that should have killed him. 

He’s silent, letting you continue. You’ll likely have as much pent up emotion to release as his sisters did when they found out. Thankfully, you choose Violet’s path over Mira’s, eviscerating him with words rather than fists. His nose still doesn’t feel right; mending himself has always been difficult.

“I still mourn you,” you tell him. “I've lit a candle for Malek every night in your honor since I got the news. To have my life crumble around me, to find out we’re at war, that I’ve been on the wrong side the whole time, and then to find that for six years, you’ve been alive, but you never once thought about writing to me to tell me any of it…” you shake your head, pressing your lips together to hold in a sob.

You steady your breathing after a moment. “I’m glad you’re alive, Brennan, I really am. But my Brennan, the man I was supposed to marry, the one who wrote me love letters in ancient languages, is still dead. He has been for years.”

You reach into the chest pocket of your flight jacket, placing something cold in his hand and closing his fingers around it. He doesn’t need to look down to know that it's your engagement ring.

“Thank you for the mending,” you say, picking up your bag. 

He waits until your footsteps have retreated back into the hallway, letting loose a shuddering sob.

Marbh sends him a wave of warmth and empathy. If there is any being who knows how much it had hurt Brennan to be away from you so long, it is him.

“Your brother needs you, silver one,” Tairn relays to Violet, a resigned quiet in his tone that has the cadet slipping away from the group to run back to the assembly room.

When she arrives, she finds Brennan sitting on the floor, knees tucked to his chest, sobbing. It’s a sight she never wants to see again; it just feels so wrong. 

Brennan had always been the strongest of the siblings, the tree that could weather any storm, a perfect balance of their mother’s intense strength and their father’s calm intelligence. It was always her crying after an injury, Mira or Brennan taking her to the infirmary for Nolon to mend it, soothing her all the while.

It’s her turn now to hold him as he cries, murmuring reassurances.

“She’ll come around,” Violet promises, though there’s a nagging feeling in her chest that says you might not. “Prove to her that you are the same man she fell in love with, that you are still worthy of her, and she’ll come around.”

-------------------------------------------------------

You don’t speak with him for two days, only seeing him stand on the dais at Battle Brief. 

It had stung to hear Devera refer to him as Lieutenant Colonel Aisereigh. He’d changed his name. He really isn’t your Brennan anymore. 

He catches you at breakfast — none of your squadmates had come with you from Montserrat, so you’re sitting alone at one of the long tables.

You look up at him silently, letting him speak first. 

He lays a thick bundle of papers on the table in front of you. “The first year of letters,” he answers before you can ask, “that I was too much of a coward to send.”

You look down at the stack of aged parchment. There have to be at least twenty letters there — one a week since July, when he’d been sent to Aretia.

By the time you look back up, he’s gone.

-------------------------------------------------------

A week passes, then another. 

He’s nearly too busy to worry about you, between the arguments among the assembly, the arrival of the gryphon fliers and the subsequent issues integrating them, and his duties mending the injuries resulting from the animosity there.

Someone steps through the door of the infirmary, panting as they limp an injured rider forward. “She just collapsed. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Brennan realizes it’s you they’re holding up, his heart pounding. He wraps an arm around your waist to take you from your friend, and his hand slips against your side, warm and wet with blood. 

He guides you onto one of the empty beds, pulling up the sticky fabric of your shirt.

The messily-wrapped bandage around your torso has absorbed all the blood it can, the row of stitches underneath torn open. You must have done this yourself in an effort to avoid him, and it didn’t hold.

At least the wound doesn’t seem infected.

He presses a clean palm into the skin, apologizing when you whimper and flinch away. “S’okay, pretty girl,” he soothes, brushing the hair from your forehead gently.

You don’t seem to hear him, your eyes still closed. Fuck, how much blood have you lost?

It’s easy enough to mend the wound, but it’s going to scar — it’s not fresh enough for him to make it disappear without a trace.

He washes the blood from his hands, pulling up a chair beside the bed and watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you sleep.

He has no idea if you’ve read the letters he gave you had changed your mind, or if you’d read them at all. You may very well have burned them. You’d be right to, after the way he’d lied to you.

You might never take him back. This may be his last chance to touch you, to feel the warmth of your skin against his. 

He takes your hand gently, intertwining your fingers and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, squeezing your palm three times — three times means I love you, you’d told him years ago.

His heart nearly stops as you squeeze back weakly; once, twice, three times.

—————————————————————

You blink the sleep from your eyes, your gaze settling on Brennan sitting beside you, an ancient looking book in his hand, pen between his teeth and a notebook covered with nearly incoherent scribbles in his lap.

Maybe he hasn’t changed as much as you’d thought.

The book and notes are quickly abandoned when he realizes you’re awake. “What the hell happened?”

“Godsdamned gryphon bit me because it didn’t like the order I gave it’s flier,” you explain, stretching your aching muscles. How long had you been asleep?

“And rather than seeking professional help, you stitched it up yourself?” He asks in that same stern tone he’d always used with you after you put yourself in danger.

This time you don’t find it endearing. 

“Yes, I did, like I have for the last six years every time I’ve been injured,” you snap. “The way people do when they don’t have a mender with them.”

He holds his tongue, realizing how many scars you’d acquired over the years. Since he developed his signet, he’d always mended even the smallest of scrapes for you, but now stripes of scar tissue run across your skin like rivers on a map, ghosts of past wounds, some healed better than others.

He imagines you sitting alone in your barracks room with a needle and thread, a folded shirt clenched between your teeth as you sewed the wounds shut.

“Please come see me next time?” He asks softly, genuine concern in his voice. “It could have gotten infected, or worse. And if your friend hadn’t been there…”

You sigh, guilt tugging at you. “Okay.”

“Thank you. Get some rest,” he encourages, turning to gather his things.

“I read some of the letters,” you say, and he turns back to face you. “I’m still hurt, but I’m not angry. I don’t think I could ever be angry with you. You’re a good man, Bren. You’ve done great things for these people.”

The weight on his chest lightens, but he stays quiet, waiting for another heartbreaking line.

“Can we start over?” You ask in a whisper, looking up at him. “Can we try to be us again?”

He smiles. “I’d love nothing more, sweetheart.”

Your heart flutters at the word, as if you’re hearing it from him for the first time. In a way, you are.

[spoiledblogif]

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This is the development blog for the interactive fiction called "The Second Sight", which you can find on itch.io at the link above!

This is my first IF project, although I've been writing original stories and fanfiction for years.

I've included the story description and character profiles from the itch page below the cut.

This blog will be a combination of development info, images and music that I associate with the story, and other musings.

Fair warning, there might be spoilers from the latest chapters here, so I recommend catching up before reading too far.

Asks and submissions are always open.

You’re an urban legend in a county full of them.  When you were thirteen, you were found passed out in the road by one of the local cops. No missing persons report. No fingerprints on file. No memories. Just a name.

Oh, and some bizarre psychic powers.  You're content with simplicity. You like your isolated cabin and helping Carter track down missing persons.  You know that in theory there are more people like you out there, but you've never wanted to look behind the curtain to find out.

However, with the disappearance of a local teen named Casey Powell and a recent attempt on your foster father's life, your serene, isolated life comes abruptly to its end and a new chapter begins.

✤✤✤

The Second Sight is an urban fantasy story, where you step into the role of a psychic whose strange powers have always separated them from others. Those same powers will drag you down the rabbit hole and into a world that is both the familiar and foreign to everything you know. A world filled with magic, witches, fae, demons, and the unknown.

You can immerse yourself in the story by customizing your protagonist's general appearance, choosing how they interact with others, and whether you lean on logic or intuition to problem solve. There are three love interests planned (more may be added depending on player reception and feedback), the genders of which will be selected by the player upon meeting them.

Characters

Jacob Carter

Age: Late forties

Race: Human. Definitely.

Gender: Male

Temperament: Carter radiates grizzled, old bastard energy and despite being the least paternal person in the world, he is your adoptive father. While harsh and aloof on the surface, he is also fiercely protective of you and has bent over backwards to give a decent life to a kid that isn't even his. He doesn't talk about his life before coming to Herman County and you haven't asked him, though that might change soon enough...

✤✤✤

Zander/Zora

Age: Late twenties.

Race: Human.

Appearance: Umber brown skin, black locs, grey eyes

Temperament: Gentle and resolute, Z isn't what you imagine when you think of an agent of the mysterious Magic and Anomalies Bureau. Kind, soft-spoken, and exceedingly polite, Z is Carter's former apprentice and something about them puts the old man on edge.

✤✤✤ Renard/Rowan

Age: Appears to be in their late twenties or early thirties

Race: Human. Maybe.

Appearance: Tall and slender, white-blonde hair, and gold eyes.

Temperament: Playful and flirtatious, talking to R always feels like a game of cat and mouse and you can never be sure which role is yours. Part sad clown, part trickster, and always maddening to work with, the only things you can be certain of with R is that they probably know what they're doing. Everything else is up in the air.

✤✤✤

Unknown aka "The Kestrel"

Age: ???

Race: Definitely not human.

Appearance: Tall, beautiful, elegant, with black hair and black eyes.

Temperament: The Kestrel is a complete unknown. It's impossible to say whether they are a lethal ally or deadly enemy, but either way they are a powerful dreamwalker. You don't know how long they've been watching you, but you're willing to bet that it's been longer than you're comfortable with.

[ink-stainedkiss]

I love saiki content 🙏🏼

Saiki with a partner who always goes out of her way to buy like fresh and new DVDs/videogames that come out and hasnt watched/played and gives it to him so that he gets no spoilers and can can genuinely enjoy them. PLSPLSPLS

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 - 𝚂𝚊𝚒𝚔𝚒 𝙺𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚘

Synopsis: Unfortunately for Saiki, his powers make it unable to enjoy most things, for instance videos games. After discovering this, you head out to give Saiki an ounce of happiness.

AH! This was such an adorable piece to write, I know it’s a bit long, but my fingers just kept typing. This may be a little ooc?? I’m not 100% sure, but I wanted to show how comfortable Saiki is around his partner. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed, please leave comments, I love them so so much!

Regular Thinking

“Regular Speaking.”

Saiki Thinking

‘Saiki Speaking’

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.2 k

Most think that being a teenage psychic with almost unlimited powers is a dream come true. They are wrong. If Saiki had to make a pros and cons list of his abilities, the cons would heavily out way the other side. There was no way to shut them off, so Saiki was stuck with everything. He had many problems with his powers, but the worst ones happened to be with other people. Telepathy. Sadly, Saiki always hears everyone’s thoughts, no matter the hour of the day, unless he is dead asleep. Sure, during the test he could listen to the smart people, but he was the smartest of them all, so it didn’t matter. Another problem was movies. Theaters were terrible because no matter what, someone had already seen it and their low IQ brain decided to think of the ending even before the trailers.

You and Saiki had been together for a few months now and it didn’t take long for you to figure out his abilities. Saiki was relieved that you didn’t immediately freak out, and in contrast, you helped him with his difficulties. You found out about his telepathy problem a few weeks ago when you brought a new video game to his house. You both sat in his room, Saiki curiously watching as you rummaged through your backpack,” Look what I got!”

You knew Saiki could already hear your thoughts, so you kept them completely clear, excited to not ruin his surprise,” I remember you mentioned it a few days ago, so…” You paused for a moment of suspense, then lifted the video game before him,” Ta-da!” Saiki wanted to be happy, he really did, but, ‘I don't want to make you feel bad, but I’ve already heard how it ends.’

You pouted, not necessarily at him, but more about his powers,” I should’ve guessed, it did come out a few days ago.” You tossed the game back into your bag,” Sorry, I thought because it was released early no one would be talking about it.” Saiki shook his head, ‘Shun, that idiot, stopped me after school and mentioned the game, I told him not to say anything, so he thought of it instead.’

You let out an angry groan,” Of course it was him, he’s always going on about some sort of game.” You sat on Saiki’s floor, resting your head on his lifted mattress. The psychic watched you and started to feel a tightening feeling in the center of his chest and he did not like it. Not at all. He teleported to your side like it was an instinct, ‘I’m sorry.’

You lifted your head and stared at the boy with a bewildered look,” Why are you apologizing?” He looked at you with his usual blank expression, however, you were able to pick up the hint of regret in his eyes, ‘My powers ruined your gift.’ You shook your head,” No Kusuo, really it’s Kaidou’s fault.” You tried to make light of the situation, but sadly your joke didn’t land.

‘I wish I didn’t have to go through this,’ he claimed, not daring to make eye contact with you, ‘Why couldn’t I have been born normal?’ Your heart dropped and you quickly grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you,” Kusuo Saiki, you are perfect just the way you are. If anything your powers make you unique and I love you for that.” Saiki’s face started to change, but you continued to speak,” I don’t care if my gift was messed up, it’s only a cluster of pixels. I’m fine with just staying here with you.”

You finished with a small kiss to his lips, going to lean away, but you felt the psychic pull you back. He held you close, clearly touched by your words,” I love you too.” Your eyes widened, Saiki rarely opened his mouth to speak, but the small gesture made your heart skyrocket. You giggled like an idiot, going in for more kisses until he ultimately pushed you away with a hidden smile playing on his lips.

That day, as you left, you knew you had to do something. So that Saiki could enjoy normal things. If you were going to execute this idea, you would need to be one hundred percent blocked off and there was only one thing to keep you safe from Saiki’s powers. Pure germanium. Really that’s how Saiki had taken interest in you. The day you entered the school, you were wearing a necklace, not that he nor you knew at the time, of germanium. When you got home, that was the first item you put on, so Saiki couldn’t hear your thoughts. You open your laptop, typing into the bar. New video games that haven’t been played yet

Surprisingly, there was a very long list of games that hadn’t been touched by the public. So you took a picture, quickly grabbed your things, and headed to the store. The sun was already going down and you hoped that there wouldn’t be a crowd of people at the store. The hardest part will probably be getting the actual game itself. Since they weren’t released yet, that means they wouldn’t be on the shelves, so you were going to have to smooth talk the employee.

Walking into the store, you were bombarded by plastic rectangles with graphic designs, neon posters that depicted popular games and anime, and loads of figurines that made your wallet hurt by just looking at them. Thankfully, you were just here for some games. You made contact with the employee. A younger-looking guy, who couldn’t be more than four years older than you. Bingo. He was probably another geek who didn’t really care about his job and would let you slide into the back for the unreleased games.

You strolled up to the counter, a soft smirk on your face, and the cashier greeted you blandly,” Hello ma’am, how can I help you?” Ma’am? I’m younger than you! Asshole. “Yeah, I just need to take a look at your video games-“ He let out a scoff, motioning towards the large shelves,” Well have you tried turning around?” Your jaw tightened, now amused by his comment,” Yes I know that,” You cleared your throat, putting back on your pleased face,” But I meant I wanted to look at unrelated games, ones that haven’t been played yet.”

You cringe mentally as an obnoxious snort escapes his mouth,” That’s funny, but no. You would have to go to the back room, which customers are not allowed to do.” More laughter sounded from him and you had to step to the side to avoid the spraying of saliva,” It’s highly unprofessional for me, an honorable man, to let some person waltz in there and get an exclusive look at the games.”

Dammit, it’s one of these guys. How can someone act so high and mighty when they work at a game store? Your anger started to boil as he mocked you and eventually, you slammed a hand onto the glass counter, making him bolt upright,” Listen. I need a new gift for my boyfriend and you have exactly what I need in that room,” You pointed to a gray door behind him,” So why can’t you be a decent human being and let me pick out a stupid video game.”

Smoke was practically coming out of your nostrils, but the cashier still had the nerve to test you,” As I’ve said, I can’t let you back there, it’s in my contract. Nothing will make me open that door.” Well, there’s only one more thing to try. “I’ll give you fifty bucks if I can just take one.” His eyes lit up with dollar signs and he was already digging for the keys,” Deal.”

Even with the success, your face twisted into one of confusion. Are you kidding? Ashe unlocked the door, you just took your win and followed him in. The section was dimly lit and it had a funky smell. Just get in and get out. You repeated that motto over and over while you watched him pull out a cardboard box from one of the plastic shelves. He let out a groan and placed it on the floor, standing to face you,” There you go.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile and maneuvered past him. He exited rather fast while you skimmed the container. There were loads of games, always different from the next. Cooking Papa:Let’s Eat! Animal Crossroads. The Walking Killed. “Huh, these sound familiar.”

You set aside the games you believed Kusuo would enjoy and pondered on the pile. Once decided, you grabbed two and headed out of the room. The cashier was zoning out, picking at a stain on his hideous uniform, but when he saw you, he didn’t seem to care,” Just set it down here and give me the money.” Wow, such kindness. You placed the two games on the counter, and the guy noticed,” Hey, you said one game.”

“Do you want the money or not?” You seethed, pushing the cash toward him. He looked you up and down with a suspicious look, then the money,” Touché.” You grumbled under your breath taking your games and exiting the store. Your emotions were irate and you were shocked. You even stayed somewhat calm in there, but when you got into your car, your attitude changed.

You were suddenly excited and hopeful. Now you could properly get Kusuo a gift. The sky was a dark purple and it was you against the clock. You sped out of the parking lot, thankful that there weren't a lot of people on the street, and soon enough you were parking in front of Kusuo’s house for the second time. You bounded out of your vehicle, hiding the games in your bag. Knocking on the door, you were met with Kusuo’s mother, who looked exceptionally happy to see you,” Oh, hello dear!” She greeted, opening the door wider,” What brings you back here to our home?”

You smiled warmly, always loving Kurumi’s bubbly personality,” I have a gift for Kusuo that I know he’ll enjoy.” Her eyes sparkled in interest,” May I see what you got him?” Nodding, you pulled out the games,” They haven’t been released to the world yet, so Saiki can play them without getting spoilers before.” Kurumi smiled fondly, placing her hands on her heart,” I’m so glad my son met you,” She praised,” I’m sure he’s lucky to have you.”

A soft blush reached your face and you giggled shyly,” I’m lucky to have him.” Kurumi motioned you up the stairs,” Well don’t keep him waiting.” You smiled brightly heading up to his room. Facing his door, you knocked quickly, and you tried to contain your happiness. Kusuo opened his door, shocked to find you, you heard your name slip from his mind, ‘What are you doing here? And why couldn’t I sense you?’

While he questioned you, he held the door open wider, letting you in,” Well, I put on my ring, and I did something while I was away.” He closed the door, eyeing you suspiciously, ‘What did you do?’ You huffed, playfully rolling your eyes,” It’s nothing bad.” ‘Alright, then tell me what you did.’

“Fine, but you have to close your eyes.” You grabbed his hand, pulling him to his bed. He sat there with an unimpressed look, but played along, closing his eyes like you said,” Okay, are you ready?” He sighed, ‘Yes.’ You took out the games and held them out in front of you,” Open your eyes.”

He did as you said and when his eyes met the presents, he raised a brow, ‘More video games?’ You blew raspberries at his tone,” Yes, but they are also unreleased, meaning that you are the only one who has played them, at least not until now.” Kusuo grabbed the items, inspecting them intently, ‘Did you steal these?’

You gasp,” No!” Moving next to him, you explained your plan. Kusuo listened carefully, happy you didn’t commit a crime for him, ‘So you really did all of that, just so I can play these in peace?’ You nodded at his words,” Mhm, it wasn’t a difficult decision.” Setting the games aside, the psychic turned to you, ‘Thank you, for everything. You make me feel…somewhat normal.’

You giggled softly, moving closer to place a gentle kiss on his lips,” I’m thankful, now hurry up and play your game.” Kusuo had a little smile on his face as he placed the DVD into the box and headed back to the bed with you. Once he got comfortable, you cuddled up to him, watching as he played through the game. You added small words into his run, telling him to add accessories onto the character or to take a fun-looking side-quest.

On that day, Kusuo learned something special. His world was so big and so full of problems or conflicts, that he had no time to take in the smallest moments. Almost everything he did had an effect on the world on someone’s course of actions, but with you, he realized he does have time to appreciate the little things.

[scentedpepper]

Missing | TWD

MALE READER X S5 GROUP

Summary: The group reverberates with a somberness upon your potential death

Content Warnings: Mention of Major Character Deaths from previous seasons, S5 and below spoilers

AUTHOR NOTE(S):

Not too sure how I feel about this one

Could be read as GN for the most part (he/him used a few times, 'Father' used once, 'Brother' used once)

Was originally supposed to be centered around Daryl and Rick, but somewhere along the writing process, I devlled into just about every other member of the group

Ya'll know how many last names I had to look up for these tags

Enjoy?

_________________________________________

7 days.

Seven days of them searching for their found family member who went out to investigate and never came back.

Glenn thought for sure that maybe with all the shit they have been through, the apocalypse must have treated you a little kinder.

That was assuming you were already dead.

Which Rick, in all his glory, continued to remind everyone that until there is evidence, there are just as many possibilities as there are stars in the sky.

He thought it was a strange fit, all doom and gloom, it wasn't like Glenn to carry around the carcasses of such negative presumptions about his loved ones, but nonetheless, he had just the same.

An ever present reminder as the fire was stoked by Glenn's constant fidgets, his spaced-out breaths being released with the baggage of endless possibilities.

"Glenn's gonna lose it when he sees this one. "

Is what Daryl said to Rick on the night of day 5, your shirt clenched in hand, approaching the church with footsteps so heavy you could mistake them for Walkers.

The worst part, Rick thought, was how he had found it, which further fueled the possibility that couldn't help but arise.

A decaying Walker's den where there was a mass majority of bodies wearing clothes; Not Walker corpses.

Hopeless and without explanation Rick approached camp with a grim expression that took root in his features.

And when Daryl had handed the shirt to Glenn after he feverishly chanted let me see it, let me see it, over and over, Daryl observed the way his hand shook when he snatched it and how the same hand came up to rub his face after he confirmed in his own mind that, without a doubt, it was yours.

Maggie had to take the shirt from his hands and when she felt the dirt and grime ragged against her skin, she almost burst at the seams, Rick knew by the strain in her brows and the way her hands turned into fists at her side.

She was the first person Rick had questioned upon your missing presence, wanting to know who you had walked out with last night and who stayed behind, wanting to pinpoint possible places you might be, or routes you could've taken.

Her response was ridden with anxious adrenaline, her lips chewed raw in worry, bouncing on her toes before stomping off and pulling everyone together to go looking for you.

There was no conversation within the group but a mutual agreement.

Naturally, the first person they looked to for some account of wrongdoing was Gabriel.

You had always been so intuitive, like you were the one who could read minds not him.

The others felt so comforted by you, Gabriel assumed.

He was only too accustomed to the fact that everyone saw the good in you, the positive, and while that brought him a modicum of solace, there were times where he couldn't help but wallow in envy.

A man of God and yet, it was you who they looked to, as if you were Christ himself.

As if you were his light.

Gabriel couldn't understand this fascination.

When he had confronted you about it, rather presumptuously, Gabriel was too quick to gauge the situation and allow his ego to speak for him. Said confrontation also happened to occur right before Maggie and Sasha who shared pointed looks with each other as they watched the scene unfold before them.

You were quick on your toes, always had been. Back on the farm, when Shane had been more akin to a wild boar, you were always the first to confront him. Always calm, or whenever you spoke you at least had the appearance of it, always matter of fact. Even when your voice raised or when anger was seething through you, it seemed like everyone just stopped, and listened.

It was one of your redeeming traits, sharp tongue laced with facts that wouldn't hesitate to point out things that were missing, contradictions, positions and beliefs.

It left some satisfaction amongst the ton when Gabriel pushed out of Judith's designated room, nearly knocking Carl off his feet as the door came with his exit.

A flustered look had replaced him, no doubt having felt the embarrassment, as if he had been burning inside.

After a beat, he had apologized under his breath and carried himself in haste towards you.

Unfortunately, this incident occurred the last night anyone had seen you.

When everyone had risen that morning, one by one coming off the floors of the church and stirring awake those who remained sleeping, you were the only one who hadn't stirred. Because your body wasn't even of prescence.

Almost immediately, everybody went on an emotional and mental frenzy.

Even when the conversation with Gabriel didn't bode well for him. He refuted, if a little pathetically, that you weren't very friendly towards him.

Upon hearing of what had happened just hours before they woke, Daryl seemed to retreat back to the deepest of his old roots.

Begrudgingly, Rick knew this was what they called "fight or flight."

Luckily for everyone involved, Daryl never moved unless there was something to fight for. The man had gained some sort of control over the years of personal development but like a dog, he'd jumped on Gabriel the second tensions rose.

There was a knife pressed against Gabriel's throat when Drayl pushed him into the nearest wall and the preacher did nothing but pray to himself and accept his fate.

Minuets later of interrogation and threatening, Michonne and Tara intervenned, though Daryl seemed none too eager to back off the smaller man, not until he was physically being dragged back and Rick telling him to get a hold of himself.

"He's lucky I didn't slit his fuckin' throat! It was him!"

Because back in the day, with Merle at his side, he would've and to hell with anyone who said differently.

Rick saw Carol's lips part to say something, as did Abraham, but nothing came out. Not with Rick cutting through them like cloth to speak, clearing his throat, hands rising in demand to appease the tension in the church.

"We are going to look for Y/N. It's no secret that we're standing on a ticking time bomb. " His head turned sharply towards everyone, waiting a beat before he continued. "Everybody gets paired off. No one leaves each other's sides. "

His gaze softened upon the archer as he came around to see the anger and frustration but most of all, the pain in his eyes. He wanted to assure him, they were going to find you. But he couldn't find the words to, as his own fingertips surged with doubt and as the rest of the days proceeded, his whole body seemed to become encapsulated by it.

They all began out at once, weapons gathered, determination and grievance fused into them as they exited the church in pairs. The only 2 persons staying behind being Judith and Abraham.

Before the front doors fell, Rick sought out Gabriel, his fingers ghosting over the knob as his stomach tied in knots.

"If you so much as touch a hair on her head. "

He was referring to Michonne who'd gotten the unsavory job of catering to Gabriel, "I swear it'll be the last thing you do. "

His eyes followed Gabriels timley swallow as he spoke.

"And if I find out you had an inkling of any wrongdoing, God won't be able to save you. "

It wasn't just Daryl that was shaken by the fear of your abduction –or worse, there wasn't a moment where Rick could stop to inhale without thinking about you. How tightly you had embraced him 2 nights prior, when he'd confided that maybe he wasn't suited for this leader job anymore, that he didn't know where you all would go, or if you'd even make it past these religious grounds before succumbing to hunger.

There was warmth radiating off you like a furnace and he couldn't shake the soothing way your fingertips gilded against his forearm as you told him that things would fall into place in time, no matter how difficult it got.

But Daryl was a damn firecracker, this way of his to emote through hostility and intimidation was a way for him to cope with the potential loss of his brother.

You were not Shane.

There's so much Rick could rationalize before he no longer had the will to counter how much he wished you were there now to quell the savagery within his best friend.

Carl was as much of a mess as the archer, if not more. The rage within him seemed to blaze each step closer to the forest. It burned at his eyes, tearing his hands into fists that felt as if their own knuckles may shatter within the grasp.

Rosita had to stop him.

"What?" He initially sneered at her, pushing out of her grip and continuing to stomp forward until he could feel her nipping at his heels.

"Carl, now is not the time to get some kind of revenge, alright? We'll find the fucker, but getting ourselves killed is not going to help. "

In time, she got him to sit down and collect himself, which consisted of roughly pacing and rubbing his face with his palms in an attempt to scrub the hostility right out of him. He wanted to scream, to fucking yell the earth apart because this wasn't fair, none of this was.

Yet, he found it somewhat easier to sit there and allow his teeth to sink into his knuckles while he suppressed tears.

Eugene and Tara had wandered the farthest the fastest, the church began to slowly disappear the deeper they strayed into the density of the trees until there was no distinguishable church at all, or street or houses for that matter.

They were silent the entire way, like speaking would somehow shatter the chances of finding you, safe, sound and alive.

So then when Tara's voice did come, meek and soft, far from anything close to the tone she usually sported, Eugene nearly jumped.

He halted immediately, his body turning as he looked every which way as if you may suddenly appear behind a tree.

"We should turn around and just make our way back. " She whispered.

That was her biggest concern, because with the route they had taken, any further into the unknown, she knew there were no way to familiarize themselves with where they were.

"Rick said to keep searching til sun down and that's just what I intend to do. " There was an an irrtation in his expression and an agony to his voice that confirmed his intentions were anything but logical.

"Eugene. "

And again, his body suddenly felt like it wasn't his, or maybe his bones weren't aligned and he was a puppet, a stranger, someone entirely else.

"Eugene, we won't get anywhere trying to force out this search. Please. The sun is already setting, it's near impossible to see 10 feet ahead and even if we were to press further in the dark, they're-"

She didn't need to finish her sentence to know what she wanted to say, the image was still clear in her mind as if she had just watched the last interaction you'd had with her and Rosita. The absolute dejection you allowed her to see in your eyes, the hesitation and restraint you had felt in giving your hugs. She took one and wrapped herself around you and you didn't dare do more than reciprocate the tightness, afraid to hurt her. As if.

After some minuets, Eugene came to and they turned back.

When they got to the church, Abraham was doing circles around the confinements of the holy sanctuary with Judith in his arms.

"Where's Gabriel?" Eugene spoke cautiously, realizing the weight in his voice when he did so.

"He's locked in his office. Said to leave him to rot or somethin'. Not a bad idea, the bastards a fuckin killer. "

Abraham was just as convinced as Daryl. No one asked to elaborate because they somehow knew the moment he did, he'd lose his shit. Like a bomb that's set to a timer, ticking away until it explodes into your ears.

"Find anything?" He asked as Tara slid down the wall she had been leaning against since they returned and brought her legs to her chest. Eugene shook his head at him which made the soldier nod back bitterly.

By day two, Michonne decided to conduct a one man search party for the nights. When the moon came out, she snuck off to the woods and scouted the area she had previously searched, for any evidence that may have been missed on the 1st visitation. Which would prove to cause strife amongst the group when Carl found her out four days later.

"What are you doing?" He challenged harshly as he forced himself into the dark brush behind her with Michonne's body jolting at the abrupt arrival of company.

"Carl-"

"Are you crazy?”

The boy wasn't the only person who she'd receive these questions from, Tyrese had found himself wandering her way as well.

"Why would you come out here on your own? Have you lost it?" He griped under his breath, tone laced with disapproval as if the woods had just come to eat them alive.

"Well, what are you doing out here?" She retorted back in a whisper yell with a forceful gesture to the man who was just as armed, just as ready as her.

Her efforts were fruitless, though, and no response was heard, which left her walking the same way she came.

Rick wasn't happy about it.

At first, when Carl appeared through the door in the night, he thought his son was the culprit of the secret night searches, but soon realized what has transpired when he saw Michonne making her way inside.

"Everyone is on edge, alright? Everyone is doing exactly what is expected of them, they have been looking and looking and Michonne, it's about time you pulled your head from your ass and sat down for the night. " Rick had said 5 minuets after they'd settled in the privacy of Judiths room. Their voices were lowered considerably so as not to wake the others, but Rick's tone wasn't anything less than a demand.

"So we should just sit around?" She had, then, the urge to spit at him and remind him that you could be dead in the next second. Gone. Poof.

"We are not–" Rick's voice began to rise in octaves but he took a moment to lower the volume. "We are *not* just sitting around. "

There was an enervation in Rick's stance that Michonne could feel pricking her heart strings. He looked exhausted, absolutely strained.

"He could– he could be in trouble. " Michonne attempted to keep her voice leveled as she looked around in disdain, her lip trembling and Rick saw this, that she could not come to accept the way things were."I can't bury him." She hissed as clear glistens of wetness fell from the pools in her eyes.

Rick knew exactly the terror Michonne felt in the pit of her gut and he could almost see inside her head, the vision of a funeral and everyone in a heavy sweat of depression and rage, because it was the same one he saw every night before he closed his eyes.

A few dead bodies surrounding the fire pit in the woods while everyone circled around you and Daryl cried.

He had already envisioned it all, envisioned the way Glenn would crack at your loss. While Maggie was reduced to hiccups and broken speeches, she had somehow found the strength to collapse to the floor and refuse help.

Bobs face would fall, for once, it would fall and Sasha wouldn't be able to handle the breath leaving her body, clutching Tyrese, who looked just as devastated, to her to bring her solace.

Carol would gasp but it wouldn't matter because no one would hear her over Daryl's sobs, no one would see the way her lips pulled down at the corners and the lines in her face would tighten.

Rick didn't like to think about how he might react. He imagined it be something similar to crazed. But beyond that, he didn't want to picture it.

And what about his son? Carl who hadn't even fully grown yet. Rick couldn't stomach the thought, the sheer utter torment he'd experience watching his sons body begin to wither. He didn't want to know.

You'd been there while he was unconscious in that hospital bed, through every storm, everything, by his side. You were a father to Carl as much as he was and you'd been nothing short of a supporting role to Rick. There's been times when you just drove the both of them off in the car, taking trips to lakes and nearby parks, anywhere that offered a semblance of normalcy.

You'd scout the places out days before, cleaned it free of Walker's and set up a picnic on the cool greens of grass or near broken tables. Even once or twice when the fire smothered to ambers or if Carl's blood started to burn so hot, you'd give them a midnight rendezvous, all three of you climbing up a tree or anything that fit the current circumstances in which the group resided.

Rick had to run a hand through his hair and all he could do was grab Michonne by her shoulders, look her forcefully in the eyes and say:

"We are going to find him. And anyone who gets in the way of that will pay. "

Because he wasn't going to accept anything else.

Which is why he didn't stop Tyrese or Daryl or anybody who wanted a chunk out of Gabriel the morning of day eight when he suggested that they move on.

He even went as far as leaving the church entirely, not caring to put aside personal feelings, not caring how he may look. His expression was sour and drained and at this rate, the only thing he cared about was finding you.

He would have no problem burying his tomahawk right into the preachers skull.

Daryl kept watch most of the nights, refusing rest for the past week because every time he tried, he felt as if it were a ploy. He became distressed each time he was reminded you weren't going to walk in and slumber on the floor next to him or Carol. You weren't anywhere.

It pissed Daryl off beyond belief to know there was an actual possibility that you weren't breathing anymore, weren't thinking, feeling.

His anger had to be one of the few things driving him into the same track less search the next day as he pushed through the forest ahead of Rick.

Things were starting to feel all too familiar and he thought he might find you in a barn just the same as Sofia. But you didn't pop out the doors in any walkers veil, you weren't bloodied nor torn apart. There were no traces of anyone or anything in those forests.

You simply disappeared.

And it left them in another night of quiet.

Spoons scraping agaisnt cans, the faint sound of chewing. A tiny droplet of rain hitting a window pane or two.

That was all.

No one spoke, yet they all sat around a room cramped with anxious bodies.

Sasha's leg brushed against her guns outline, her boots rubbed together, her tongue flicked at her teeth and she felt as if her thoughts were vibrating the inside of her skull, riling her from the depths. There was an eerily absence of anything positive, because at this point no one was expecting good news.

Gabriel's execution was more or less inevitable as each of the nights rolled by. There'd be the lingering aura of danger and anticipation due to the preachers remaining presence. But no one ever mentioned it, let alone had the will to.

It was hard to digest the concept of your loss because not a single one of them wanted to bury you, the group preferred to be broken and you had become like an integral part of what bound them.

Food was beginning to dwindle down the line of low and low to nonexistent.

And as they sat there, in silence, there was collective knowing resonating around them that this would be the last night they spent in the church.

Not that anyone dared to speak it, not even Rick, who gazed afar into the burning light of a candle and contemplated.

Carol noticed first, maybe it was her nose, fine tuned for the scent of trouble and like a dog trailing a rabbit, she jumped up with a clatter and darted towards the front door.

But she didn't even get halfway across the church, with Rick trailing closely behind her, along with the others who were all clammering to their feet, when the doors burst open on their own, the cool whip of wind entering the room as the room itself seemed to rise up in temperature.

There, with a trail of blood drops, a scarily dehydrated and filthy body fell into her arms.

It was you.

And the sigh of relief felt as if you breathed the air back into everyones lungs. It reanimated the whole church.

[felassan]

I received a few asks around a similar topic, so I'm popping them together here. ( ´ ▽ ` ) DA:TV spoilers under cut.

[the Felassan Files]

hello! ◕‿◕ thank you for the lovely and fun ask messages!!

lavendervoids asked: "i’ve been dying to know what ur reaction was to seeing felassan in the game was???? the moment i saw him i was yelling and hollering and my first thought was “omg what does tumblr user felassan think of this” LMAO and thank you for all the documenting you’ve been doing up until and past the release of the game, i ended up blocking every dragon age tag a couple months back to avoid any sort of spoilers but i still came to your blog everyday cause i knew you wouldn’t spoil me haha"

hhhh ( ´ ▽ ` ) tysm for thinking of me at that time!! and for the nice comment about this blog and visiting it. I'm really glad to know that my approach to spoiler tagging etc has been okay for you.

littlerune asked: "i don't even know you but you and dragon age felassan are so intrinsically linked in my brain that when he appeared in veilguard all i thought was "ohhhh i wonder how tumblr user felassan feels about this"

hhhh :D 🥺 thankyou so much for thinking of me!! ♡ some say that his ghost operates this tumblr blog, or that he lives still

songofamazon asked: "I'm still on my first play of the game, but whenever I got to the memories in the Crossroads, I thought to myself, "I hope Tumblr Felassan is having a great time. Did you?"

I had a great time playing the game and when playing the Crossroads memories sections, I loved them a lot, they were very cool and a highlight of the game. thankyou sm and for thinking of me, and I hope that you did too!!

phantabula-interactive asked: "im so glad you're enjoying the game!! I had to ask; how did you feel about seeing Felassan in game?? I was so excited to see the notes from him, I wasn't expecting a boss fight MUCH LESS. FULL CAMEO!!! They made him a lot prettier than I was expecting too (/pos)"

thankyou!! I hope that you've been enjoying it too!

so: I was sooo excited and shook to see Felassan in the game!!! I was like

(I yelped/hooted out loud like a clown) and then

and then it was suddenly like too much (pos) and my soul left my body and i astral projected into space/paradise/the Astral Plane/the Void or something etc

and then it took me some time to process or gather my thoughts about it.

obviously I was super hoping that we would see him in the game. I was sure that there would at least be some references to him in codexes/notes etc or allusions made in passing dialogue like Cole and Solas' lines about him in Trespasser. then when the marketing mentioned that we would see flashbacks from Solas' past in the Crossroads, I was like aaa omg, wouldn't that be the perfect time to actually show Felassan??, as a Fade memory or flashback or spirit echo or something. so then I was hoping like 🕯️🕯️🕯️ and yea. but even so, still when I saw him in game for the first time it was still a huge shocked Pikachu moment for me.

I was already feeling psyched from the first Felassan codex/note that I found, then I couldn't believe (pos) just how many codexes/notes scattered around written by him that there was?? I was already feeling spoiled (not spoiled by spoilers but like spoiled from eating good) from that (a bunch of codexes/notes might not seem like a lot but when your fav is a side character that has only appeared in one [1] tie-in novel..) and then he goes and actually APPEARS, AAAA. I feel like I ate so good. with the Betrayal fight and the rune at the end as well, it felt like he was threaded throughout the game and was really haunting the narrative. some assorted thoughts:

first of all everything about his DA:TV appearances/DA:TV references continues to underscore that he is the greatest of all time

it also continues to underscore the pain of his death/story and of his friendship with Solas

may I please go and start a new life living in Solas' memories of Felassan on repeat. i simply do not care that my body would waste away in the waking world from lack of sustenance

in the endgame I was trying to concentrate and punch Elgar'nan in the face and save the world but I like couldn't see straight through the tears after having been given Felassan's Magical Boyfriend Super Rune (morrigan pls.. what a way to twist the KNIFE at an extremely critical moment for thedas hhhh..)

expansion pack where we relive Solas' memories of him and Felassan dating (he didn't deserve Felassan tho fr. but then, does anyone..?)

I know that Felassan would treat Lavellan sooooo right. so well. so respectfully. felassan would pull their chair out for them at restaurants and open car doors and whatever

Betrayal of Felassan refers to Solas' betrayal of Felassan, not Felassan's betrayal of Solas

also i love how they made him DEVASTATINGLY handsome?? in the game (they didnt need to go that hard), but also how, at the same time - even before the TME Deluxe edition illustrations, we all just inherently knew deep in our bones that he was, you could simply just tell from his energy and vibes and dialogue even in only the written word. cool rolls off this guy in waves, and always has done

did his model have smoky winged eye makeup? love that. love that for him

I liked his sense of style. the hair his model has happened to be one of the ones I was debating using for my Rook. it's one of my fav ones from the CC

I appreciated the attention they paid to detail when making his model. Mythal vallaslin, violet/purple eyes, an undercut - as he was previously described or shown in TME, dev social media comments and the TME deluxe illustrations

I liked the actor they chose for him, his voice was cool

I felt like his codexes and notes that he wrote captured his voice and his character. you can see the depth of his loyalty and devotion to his friend, his concerns, and he retains his 'voice' in terms of some snark, wit etc

it's fun thinking about whether Felassan originally manifested from the Fade (and if so, what was he a spirit of) or whether he was born the usual way of other elves. (it could be either one)

Betrayal of Felassan as a manifested embodied regret and its lines like "his back, turned".. very raw. that fight was hard enough mechanically for me as it was, then the lines were like being hamstrung LOL. how could they??? (pos/lh)

I always thought that, a long time ago, Solas was essentially the player character in a different game, the main character of another story. the leader of his own group of companions and friends on their own quest (to stop the Evanuris), and that Felassan was one of those companions. Alistair to his Hero of Ferelden if you will. in DA:TV we learn that not only was he one of his companions, he was basically the second-in-command of his rebellion, a General, his closest friend aside from Mythal and his right-hand man.

he was so cool back in his heyday

pain. paaaaain. but like in a good way (I unironically love to be hurt by stories pls continue 💀...)

there are a few further posts containing more bits of my reaction and thoughts scattered through my Felassan tag. ^^

There were also a few other asks about this in my inbox, but Tumblr appears to have eaten them?? :< so if you've asked me about Felassan and my reaction since launch but the message isn't in this post, thankyou sm and I'm very sorry. 😔 pls feel free to re-send it. :)

I do remember that one of the vanished messages asked me what the Slaughter of the Pillars boss regret refers to - the Pillars of the Earth are the Titans. ("Hail Mythal, adjudicator and savior! She has struck down the pillars of the earth and rendered their demesne unto the People! Praise her name forever!") That undead boss embodies another of Solas' greatest regrets, namely what he and Mythal did to the Titans during the war with them - sundering every Titan from their spirit, severing them from their dreams, which resulted in the Blight as the dreams were driven mad. it also in a sense broke the dwarves in two and caused the fall of the fate of the dwarven people. Beyond the mural-memory that pertains to this in DA:TV, there are depictions of this time in the ancient past in the DA:TV artbook: [one, two]. Annotations there describe Solas rendering the Titans tranquil and capturing their souls; dwarves as a consequence then losing their connection to magic and fleeing into the now-Tranquil earth; and the Evanuris then building Elvhenan using the power of the captured Titan souls.