#this made me cry so I have to share it to make you cry it's in the rules | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cassdrawsthings · 12 hours ago

Text

God, that was my whole fucking childhood in a nutshell.

You know what I love about it?

I've made a list.

Won't you take a moment to read about all of the things I love?

I think you'll enjoy it

I'm excited to share things with you :D

Love being gaslit into thinking that every single problem is a problem with me.

Love being constantly abused by society every single step of the way.

Love being psychologically tortured non-stop for literal years by peers who treated it as a sport.

I wish I could make friends

Love being psychologically tortured non-stop for years by adults out of spite that I went to for help.

Love having my joy and sense of wonderment beaten out of me during a time of nurturing.

What did I do wrong?

Love living as an adult in a child's body.

Was it something I said?

I love every attempt at human connection and every attempt to share my interests being aggressively rejected and being punished for even trying.

I love how it was seen as especially noble that I would spend time with the nonverbal autistic kids trying to find new ways to communicate with them when they were among the very few who seemed to understand me.

I'm sorry I didn't mean to bother you

I love seeing nonverbal autistic kids being seen as obnoxious lumps of flesh incapable of thought or agency by people who make no real attempt to adapt to their needs.

I love being told I have no sense of empathy by people who act like unfeeling psychopaths towards me when I dare to simply exist around them.

I love being called a retard by my classmates for struggling to use spoken language under stress.

I love being pushed to the point of abject desperation, being backed into a corner and drowning in abuse and neglect and isolation and feeling completely and utterly hopeless.

Please just leave me alone

I love having my desperate struggle for basic survival labeled as "anger issues."

I love having nobody to turn to for company but my pet cat.

I love crying myself to sleep every night.

I love spending every day yearning to return to the before times, hoping that everything is just a horrible nightmare and that I would wake up one day in a kind world.

I love being disappointed every time.

I love waking up into different variations of the same horrible, traumatic day instead.

Over.

And over.

Please, I'm trying my best

And over.

I love losing hope.

I love wondering why I had any to begin with.

I love trying to run away and making it a block before breaking down and sobbing alone in the cold winter rain.

And over.

And over. What do you want from me

And over.

I loAnd over.

Er.

I love forgetting how it feels to have the gentle wAnd over.armth of sunlight on your skin.

And over.

And ovI love accepting that this horrible, cold, lonely tunnel is my new life.er.

And over.

And over. Please I just want an honest friend

And over. I just want to be loved

I love accepting that there is no light at the end of this tunnel.

And over.

And over And over

And over I love you Lula, you're such a good kitty

And over I love that you spend time with me

And over thank you for being a warm, gentle thing

And over for me to hold close to my heart

And over. Such a sweetie

And over.

And over. Such a kind soul

And over.

I love holding my stuffed animals close and sobbing as I apologize over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and without even knowing what I'm apologizing for. and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and

And over.

And over. I have poured so much love into my stuffed

And over. animals

And over.

And over. Maybe someday I will have that love

And over. returned to me

And over.

And over. and I won't be so sad

And over.

I love having the school's principal, the only adult in my life that would extend kindness and understanding to me, being out sick for days without explanation.

And over.

And over. Lula's fur is so silky soft

And over.

I love the pain turning to a dull, crushing ache.

And over.

And over. It's a good soft texture in a world of

And over. bad textures and bad people

I love days turning to weeks.

And over.

I love becoming desensitized

And over please get better soon it's gotten so bad

And oer please come back I'm begging you

A d ov r

I love weeks turning to months.

I love becoming depersonalized.

And over.

I love the temporary substitute.

And over.

I love how I'm a problem to solve.

And over.

I love being told he's getting better.

I love being lied to.

I love being gaslit up until the day of his death.

I love begging God for just five minutes to say my goodbyes and thank him for everything he did for me.

I love getting no reply.

I love dreaming of monsters pretending to be him.

I love waking up to monsters pretending to be him.

And overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAm I in hell?And overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd over

I love giving up.

I love having nothing left to live for.

I'm so sorry

I tried my best

It wasn't good enough

Maybe it's my fault after all

Maybe I didn't deserve life in the first place

I love walking home with my sister and the dipshit neighbor boy.

I love that not even the walk home from school will grant me peace.

I love how he's a total asshole all the time to me for no fucking reason at all.

I love when I finally snap.

I love deciding that I'm done with all of it.

Maybe this is my freedom

I love trying to jump into traffic.

I loveAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAHell would be better than this.And overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd over

And being pulled out of traffic by my sister

I lovenot to stop me from killing myself

I love ovbut because it seemed like I was just being a complete impulsive spaz like always with no self control

erIloveyoululakittyIloveyoululakittyIloveyoululakittyIloveyoululakittyIloveyoululakittyIloveyoululakittyIloveyoululakittyIloveyoululakittyIloveyoululakittyIloveyoululakittyI

I love you Lula kitty more than anyone else in the whole wide world, thank you for letting me talk and listening to me and not being mean to me

I love being stuck here

I love being trapped

I love being denied even the kindness of death

I lo

Ilo

I love breaking my arm and getting a silver sharpie in the hopes that someone will sign it.

I love that nobody ever did.

ilha

Over and over and over and over and No.

I love I've fucking had it

Į løvè being crushingly alone

I love I've absolutely fucking had it I'm done with this

I love You know what I have bent over backwards and

I love done everything I can to destroy everything

I love about myself that brings me joy just so that

I love feeling the warm light return.

I love you would allow me to exist and survive

I love getting lost in imaginary worlds on the computer that let me pretend I live in something other than this godawful fucking torture chamber where every sound stabs into me like knives and every texture rips at my skin like knives and everything is trying to cut me to pieces like I tried to kill myself when it became clear that I could not so much as breathe wi autistic retard stupid useless piece of shit crybaby anger issues retard retard retard stupid idiot retard can't spell words out loud stop being such a fucking crybaby all the time retard freak retard retard retard degenerate piece of garbage annoying piece of shit thout being torn down and beaten into submission

I love it turning into a harsh, dry, burning feeling.

I love when people leave me alone and let me draw in What do you want from me peace.

WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME

WHAT DO YOU FUCKING WANT FROM ME

I TRIED TO GIVE UP MY LIFE FOR YOU AND YOU WOULD NOT TAKE EVEN THAT

DO YOU THINK MY ENTIRE FUCKING EXISTENCE IS JUST TO BE YOUR AMUSING LITTLE PUNCHING BAG

YOU KNOW WHAT, YOU CAN'T TELL ME TO SIT DOWN AND BE QUIET ANYMORE WHEN YOU WILL NOT FUCKING LET ME

I'VE FUCKING HAD IT

NO, THIS IS NOT MY FUCKING PROBLEM

IT IS NOT MY FUCKING PROBLEM THAT MY ABILITY TO LIVE MY FUCKING LIFE IS SUCH A MASSIVE ISSUE FOR YOU

I'M FUCKING SICK OF ALL OF YOU AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANYMORE

YOU CANNOT TELL ME WHAT TO DO, YOU CANNOT MAKE ME SIT STILL AND BE QUIET

YOU CAN TORMENT ME, BEAT ME, HARASS ME, CALL ME STUPID STUPID RETARD FUCKUP STUPID ANNOYING HAHA YOU SPILLED YOUR MILK AT LUNCH AND GOT UPSET AND EVERYONE SAW AND IT WAS EMBARRASSING AND ALL YOU WANTED WAS FOR PEOPLE TO STOP LOOKING AT YOU AND

I love IT'S SOOOO FUNNY THAT WE CAN SET YOU OFF JUST BY SAYING MILK NOW HAHAHAHA HAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAA HAHAHA

BUT YOU CANNOT FUCKING CONTROL ME ANYMORE

I love my lula-boo, my sweet little kitty understands me.

I love how even an animal is capable of more kindness and empathy than you people.

I love that I'm fucking allowed to rock if I want to.

I love deciding that I am not the fucking problem and if people want to have a problem it is theirs to fucking deal with.

I love trying to hit someone that was trying to hurt to me and being punched in the stomach as hard as he could manage.

I love crumpling onto the cold metal grating in agonizing pain and struggling to breathe while the teacher yells at me for being late to line up.

I love deciding that I can just make myself throw up and go home for the day because I'm sick.

I love that You can't fucking stop me. What are you going to do. What could you possibly do to me that's worse than the last five years of And overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd. Do you think I care anymore? Do you think I have anything left to lose?

I love that What, I can't even share the time of day with you people without someone hitting me or telling me to shut up and nobody cares about your stupid fucking Mario games. And you expect me to fall in line and write kind words for my classmates just because they're honored student of the month?

I love that Maybe I'll have some kind words for them when they stop tormenting me and fucking apologize.

I love that Fine. Send me to the fucking principal's office. See what I care about being removed from this situation.

I love that Maybe I'll have some kind words for them when they realize what they've done to me and understand how I feel.

I love that Maybe I'll have some kind words for them when they're the ones trying to kill themselves for once to escape their burden of guilt.

What happens at the end of eternity?

I love that I'm so desensitized to suicidal thoughts that it's not even a taboo subject to me anymore. It's just the fond childhood memories to me at this point.

I love being followed for years.

I love glancing over my shoulder and seeing it close behind every time.

I love having my experiences denied for years.

I love people shrugging it off.

I love being told that they did everything they could but their hands were tied.

I love being a scarred, mutilated corpse of a person for the rest of my life.

I love that I can't share about my special interests without constant flashes of anxiety that I'm going to get yelled at.

I love that I constantly have to worry that maybe this is all just a lie and that they're just putting up with me and that it's the same as always.

I love being told things will get better by people who do nothing to make it so.

I love being told that they can't do much for me now but I'll do great in college.

I love that I have no recourse for what happened.

I love being an unfortunate case that shouldn't have happened but they can't do anything about it.

I love being told that people in the school administration were made aware of my case and that they're going to try to make adjustments to stop it from happening again.

I love not being asked for my thoughts.

I love that nonverbal autistic children are still in the same Special Ed class they've always been in.

I love that they're still treated as obnoxious lumps of meat without agency or worth.

I love being told things are better.

I love how the scars remain.

I love the flashbaWHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME LET ME OUT LET ME OUTcks.

I love being told that "low-functioning autistics" have other issues and not everybody is ready for the same kind of dignity and fair treatment and respect.

I love that I'm too autistic to be treated with dignity and too good at masking to be given accomodations.

I love having the nightmares.

I love dreaming of monsters pretending to be him.

I love having to relive those five yearsAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAHell would be better than this.And overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd over in my dreams.

I love how nothing is wrong now.

I love how the majority of my life has been spent emotionally-dead and completely isolated out of fear.

I love living in the same room that I spent so many years weeping in.

I love being haunted by the ghost of a sobbing, lonely child.

I love worrying about if I'm allowed to flap and rock around.

I love worrying if people think I'm weird for touching the cloth and clothing in the store to feel its texture when it looks nice.

I love worrying if it's okay to mention that a sound is hurting my ears.

I love worrying if I'm allowed to share my interests with people.

I love worrying about whether people will start to do it again.

I love being an adult in a child's body.

I love being a child in an adult's body.

I love being gaslit.

I love hearing the piercing fluorescent whine.

I love seeing the disorienting fluorescent flicker.

I love the cold, gross light cast upon everything I can see.

I love the resigned expressions on people's faces when I tell them about it.

I love the fond childhood memories it stirs up.

I love the lamp.

I cannot stop thinking about the lamp.

I know nothing of the lamp but it consumes me nonetheless.

I love living in a prison of my own flesh.

I love being a child in an adult's body.

I miss you, Lula.

growing up autistic / growing up gaslit

this is the first lesson you learn: you are always wrong.

there is no electric hum buzzing through the air. there is no stinging bite to the sweetness of the mango. there is no bitter metallic tang to the water.

there is no cruelty in their laughter, no ambiguity in the instructions, no reason to be upset. there is no bitter aftertaste to your sweet tea, nothing scratchy about your blanket.

the lamps glow steadily. they do not falter.

II.

this is the second lesson you learn: you are never right.

you are childish, gullible, overly prone to tears. you are pedantic, combative, deliberately obtuse. you are lazy, unreliable, never on time.

you’re always making up excuses, rudely interrupting, stepping on people’s shoes. you’re always trying to get attention, never thinking about anyone else, selfish through and through.

it’s you that’s the problem. the lamps are fine.

III.

this is the third lesson you learn: you must always give in.

mother knows best. father knows best. doctor knows best. teacher knows best. this is the proper path. do not go astray.

listen to your elders, respect your betters, accept what’s given to you as your due. bow to the wisdom of experience, the education of the professional, the clarity of an external point of view.

what do you know about lamps, anyway?

#reblogs #i guess #im so sorry #im so so sorry #I know this is too much #I've been having a rough time lately #autistic #autism #neurodiversity #ptsd #prose

28K notes · View notes

14dayswithyou · 3 days ago

Text

I literally have the most amazing and wonderful community in the entire world???? T_T In this essay, I will—

This is going to be raw and unedited because I want to get my initial thoughts out there before I forget n go back to crying /pos, but?? Yawl.... I can't even begin to find the words to express how appreciative and grateful I am for each and every one of you!! ;v;

I've spent the past few hours reading through everyone's personally written messages, then rereading them all again to let it all fully sink in. I'm being genuine when I say that I've never felt this loved or appreciated in any community before in my life.

Those in the Discord server might know about this already, but since the start of this year, I haven't really been enjoying myself (nor have I been as active) in the yandere VN community. There was far too much infighting between devs, parasocial communities, and toxic anons that ruined so much for me — so I withdrew from it all and remained in my own small bubble. Even then, I still got belittled, harassed, doxxed, and even became the target of Tall Poppy Syndrome by others; most of which nearly made me want to leave altogether, but the overflowing amount of support from everyone in the 14DWY community made me want to stay.

And even now, after reading all those heartfelt messages... I think it's permanently solidified the little space I occupy here on the internet :3

So... Yeah, long story short (and a story that will likely end up as its own separate Tumblr post gjskskjd), I wasn't enjoying myself at all in the yandere VN community... but I did have the time of my life in the 14DWY community. And it's all thanks to you guys.

I'm genuinely sooooo proud to have such an endlessly kind, social, and talented community; and I'm glad to have brought such an interactive and friendly group of people together over our shared interest in such a nice concept. 14DWY is essentially a labour of my love — and although I'm ultimately creating it for me and my silly interests — it's still something that I want to make worthy of you guys as well. All the love and support you've shown me and 14DWY motivates me to do my very best, and y'all deserve nothing less. So...

Thank you all for finding a comfort character in my Totally Normal Guy and his Totally Not Eccentric quirks. Thank you for all the insanely talented creations y'all make and share with me. Thank you for sending in your silly (/pos) questions and turning them into inside jokes and AUs for the rest of the community to enjoy. Thank you for talking with me and making this space a genuinely fun place for me to be in again.

From the bottom of my heart; thank you all so much. I really hope everyone has had an amazing year so far, and I hope 2025 will be as kind to you as you all were towards me.

I also want to give a big fat massive huuuuuuuge shout-out to Ashe / @flaneur001 my love (/p) for organising the 14DWY letter event on Discord, and for contributing so much of their time and dedication to the 14DWY community. You say you've only been part of the community for a year, but to me, that was a year well cherished and appreciated. The 14DWY community (and me especially) have all been so lucky to spend this past year with you, and I sincerely hope you've enjoyed it as much as we have. You've done so much for me, the community, and the 14DWY Discord server, so it's only fair that you get the recognition you deserve. So thank you, Ashe!! And a big thank you to everyone in the 14DWY Discord who participated in this event as well!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some cryin and sobbin to do <3 /silly /pos

#Not me being mushy on main?????? Who is this.... This is so un-evilhehe of me....... /silly #💖 — 14 days with queue.#🖤 — shut up sai.#💜 — 14dwy misc.

182 notes · View notes

vyliez · 2 days ago

Text

ᯓᡣ𐭩 was it casual?

pt 2. to : why'd you only call me when you're high

pairings: se-mi x fem!reader

synopsis: fucking that shit attitude of hers out because what the fuck?

warnings: smut, sub!se-mi, fingering, pwp(?), pathetic!se-mi, squirting, edging. lmk more lolz

a/n: lord knows we need a sub se-mi in our life once in a while because whimpering and whining se-mi will make my phone switch from my right hand to my left :P also i'm shit at endings but wtv at least there's sub se-mi and i'm fine

the morning after, you decided to ask her when her head's clear. "se-mi?" you hummed as you watched her fumble into her clothes, your chin resting on your palm.

"yeah?" se-mi replies, looking down at you, all sprawled in bed, looking disheveled. she swallows her dry throat, trying to keep her thoughts pg-13 as she buckles the belt of her pants.

"about last night..." you started. you could see her pause before continuing on her ministrations. so she had noticed. good. or bad? you waited for her reply in silence as she tried to not meet your eye.

"it was nothing," she finally replied after a moment, looking dead into your eye, her face unreadable. "i was high,"

that made you scoff to yourself. "of course it was," you mumbled, your gaze fleeting downwards as you fiddle with the loose threads of your blankets. it always was nothing.

"hey," she says firmly, placing two fingers under your chin, making you look at her and meet her gaze. your eyes subconsciously wandered all over her face, as if it were memorizing every single eyelash and freckle for your suffering later in the dark. you swallowed hard, you watched how her piercings glinted against the open sunlight. fuck— why does she have to be so hot all the fucking time? it made you wonder what it'd be like to share something more than fucking with her.

"it was a mutual agreement between us," her voice snapped you out of your daze. "no feelings involved."

that made you swallow the lump in your throat, your heart sinking lower and lower deep into the trenches of your sorrow as se-mi lets go of you, pressing a kiss on your forehead as a farewell. "i'll see you when i see you, yeah?" she says, taking her jacket and opened the door to your room. "and remember, this thing between us is just casual," she says casually before closing the door behind her.

nothing was casual about it when you had her helpless on her own couch, squirming and crying as she begged and pleaded while your hands expertly circled her clit.

"b-baby... please, i'm sorry," she begged, sobbing as you denied her for the nth time that night. her hand tried to snake up your hips but you swatted it away. "no," you said firmly, which emitted a whimper from her pretty lips.

se-mi didn't know what she was apologizing for. all she knew that this was somehow a sort of punishment she did a while back. she whined softly, bucking her hips up to your hand for more friction after you ghosted your fingers over her clit. however, she shriveled when she saw your glare, her lips forming into a small pout, akin to a child that had been scolded by their parent.

her mind raced, trying to find the reason for this 'punishment'. surely it was nothing serious right? she traced the day's events in her mind. you messaging her you'd be around tonight, work, lunch, work, had some breakfast at this new diner—oh. her realization hit her like a ton of bricks, at the same time, you inserted two fingers easily through her tight walls, which made her moan loudly, her hand latching onto your arm, throwing her head back and rolling her eyes in pleasure.

"ah- ah- ah," you tutted as you removed your fingers from inside her and swatted her hand away from your arm. "no touching unless you don't want to cum, do you understand?"

se-mi whined, her lower lip trembling, mumbling incoherent apologies. "princess— sweetheart... p-please... please, i'll be a good girl— i'll treat you better than before," she panted heavily, another set of tears forming in her eyes, ready to fall again. her begging fell deaf into your ears, however as you pinched her clit harshly. "do you understand?" you asked firmly, staring deep into her eyes.

se-mi yelped, tears down her cheeks. she nodded fervently, desperately grinding her hips down your hand. "words, darling," you cooed as you captured her lips with her, your tongue slid out to fiddle with the piercing on her lip, the metallic taste mixing with her usual taste of cigarettes in your mouth. you pulled away, making her whine and push forward to chase your lips. "words, se-mi. i want to hear words from you," you say, pressing a finger on her lips.

"please," her lower lip trembled, her eyes wide as begged. "i understand, just please..." she whispered.

"mmhm?" you hummed, capturing her lips again, sloppily kissing her as the lewd sounds of your fingers pushing in and out of her wet cunt filled the room. "fuck, you're like a waterfall at how wet you are right now," you gasped against her lips as you watched her wetness stain the couch below her.

"babe— princess— please..." she whined, rolling her eyes backward. "shhh, don't worry darling," you cooed running a hand through her damp hair, thrusting your fingers faster as you watched her build up her orgasm.

"i'm gonna— please—" se-mi pants loudly, gripping the blankets beneath her tightly as she lifted her hips, screaming your name.

"fuck, baby, that was so hot," you murmured amusedly as you watched her squirting.

"you think you can do that one more time?" you mumbled in her ear after she came down her high, running a hand through her hair lovingly.

safe to say after that, her attitude towards you had somehow changed. she'd stay with you in the mornings, make you breakfast, pick you up after work, and makes the best aftercare baths for you. she even asked you out on a proper date! all because you fucked that attitude out of her.

#se mi squid game #se mi x reader #se mi #se-mi #se-mi squid game #se-mi x reader #squid game s2 #squid game x y/n #squid game #wi ja hoon #wu luh wuh #lesbian #squid game x you

202 notes · View notes

thef1diary · 2 days ago

Note

team principal!carlos treating the team to a little vacation before the new season starts for uh.. team building reasons.. obviously.. 👀 think paradise but sharing meals with everyone and having a few fun activities together. and you are sharing a room with carlos, the suite was the only one available with two rooms 🤓

i'm thinking waking up to carlos eating you out to start the day off well with more to follow😵‍💫

🩵

— hmm why make it two rooms if it could be one? With one bed ofc 🤭 the team would be suspect anything, it was just a booking issue on the hotel’s end…right? 18+ content below

The tropical retreat had been Carlos’s idea, pitched to the team as a well-earned vacation to recharge and build camaraderie before the new season. What no one knew—what no one could know—was that his real agenda had little to do with team bonding. He had planned every detail, down to the “accidental” mix-up that left the two of you sharing a single room with one bed. The team didn’t suspect a thing. To them, you were the star driver, and he was the ever-professional team principal. Behind closed doors, however, things were much different.

The bed was large enough to keep up appearances, but neither of you had any intention of using all that space. You fell asleep curled against him, your limbs tangled under the soft sheets, his hand possessively resting on your bare hip. The sound of the ocean outside lulled you into a deep sleep, and you didn’t stir until the morning—when you woke to something far more intoxicating.

A low, needy moan escaped your lips before you even opened your eyes. Warmth spread from your core, the unmistakable sensation of Carlos’s mouth between your thighs pulling you from sleep. His broad shoulders pinned you down, his strong hands gripping your hips to keep you exactly where he wanted you.

“Carlos…” you gasped, your voice still rough from sleep. Your legs trembled, instinctively trying to close around his head, but he groaned against you, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

“None of that, hermosa,” he murmured, his voice husky as he pulled back just enough to look up at you. His lips glistened, his dark eyes smoldering. “Let me take care of you. You’ve earned it.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before diving back in, his tongue dragging slow, deliberate circles over your clit. His movements were precise, calculated, like he had mapped every inch of you and knew exactly what would unravel you.

“You were incredible last season,” he said between licks, his voice low and reverent. “Every win, every podium—you make me so proud.” He punctuated his words with a firm suck on your clit, making your back arch and a cry fall from your lips. “I want to reward you. Motivate you to keep being my best driver.”

Your hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands as your hips bucked against his mouth. He let you grind against his face as he worked you closer to the edge.

“Carlos—sir—fuck—”

“That’s it, princesa,” he groaned, his voice muffled as he pressed his tongue deeper into you. “Let go. I want to feel you fall apart for me.”

And you did. The orgasm hit you like a wave, your body tensing before shattering beneath him. He held you steady, his tongue working you through the high, his grip firm but tender as he murmured praises against your skin.

You were still catching your breath when he crawled up your body, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was equal parts sweet and filthy. You could taste yourself on him, and it only made you want more.

“Think you got one more in you?” he asked, his voice a low rumble in your ear. You could feel him, hard and insistent against your thigh, and the look in his eyes made your stomach flip.

You briefly glanced at the clock on the nightstand, barely registering the numbers before giving him an answer. “We’ve got time, please sir.”

A smirk graced his lips, and he placed a light kiss on your lips. “Good girl, that’s what I like to hear.”

He flipped you onto your stomach, his hands gripping your hips as he positioned himself behind you. He slid his cock into you in one slow, deliberate thrust, the stretch making you gasp. He didn’t wait, setting a rough pace that had you clawing at the sheets, your moans muffled by the pillow.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, his grip tightening as he drove into you. “So perfect for me.”

His hand slipped around to your front, finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. The overstimulation was almost too much, but the way he moaned your name, the way he filled you completely, had you hurtling toward another orgasm.

“Come for me again, mi princesa,” he commanded, his voice rough and strained. “Show me why you’re the best.”

It didn’t take you long to shatter around him, your body shaking as he followed you over the edge, his cum spilling into you with a guttural moan. He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms and pressing soft kisses to your sweat-slicked skin.

“Good morning,” he murmured against your temple, his voice warm and teasing.

You laughed breathlessly, your body still trembling from the aftershocks. “If this is how you want to start the day, I can’t wait to see what the rest of the week holds.”

He chuckled, pulling you closer. “Just wait, hermosa. I’ve got a lot planned for us.”

want more team principal!carlos? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

250 notes · View notes

lady0mandy · 1 day ago

Text

TL;DR: Fatshaming did not motivate me to lose weight, it programmed me to always hate my body, no matter the size.

Just wanted to weigh in with my personal experience with this matter. I was fat shamed, primarily by my mother, from the time I hit puberty. I was borderline underweight at this time, but my mother would still get on me about losing weight so I didn't get "bloatus of the toadus" or whatever the fuck she used to call it. In highschool it got a lot worse, with her criticizing my stomach every time she saw it and openly making comments about my body around family, friends, etc. I stopped letting her visit the doctor with me because I didn't want to hear her giving me shit every time they weighed me. She even asked the photographer who took my senior photos to edit them to make me skinnier (he was very uncomfortable and luckily did not do that). I repeatedly tried to explain to her why this behavior is inappropriate, and I would always get the same responses: "I'm just worrying about you" "I just care about you" "I just want you to be healthy" etc.

When I was 19 I broke my spine. As a result I put on about 15-20lbs and let me tell ya, all hell broke loose. The guy I was seeing at the time was fatphobic and would fatshame me on a daily basis while also trying to control what I ate and what I did in my spare time. I repeatedly tried to explain to him why what he was doing was hurting me, and all he could say was "it hurts because it is true" Eventually I had enough and kicked him to the curb. I remember trying to confide in my family about his cruel behavior and each time my mom couldn't help but chime in "he's right, you know!".

Do you know what over a decade of fatshaming did for me? Well, first of all it gave me a pretty messy eating disorder. Some days I wouldn't eat anything. Some days I would eat everything. Some days I would purge until nothing was left. However, it wasn't until I developed thyroid cancer that I saw a genuine change in my weight. I put on 50lbs fairly quickly and it had a detrimental impact on my self esteem. My entire life I had been told my worth was dependent on how skinny I was, and now I was rapidly gaining weight. I started hearing the same things my mother and ex used to tell me, but from a lot of other people as well. I quit making my silly little tiktoks and sharing my silly little opinions on the Internet because I couldn't handle the waves of trolls coming at me for my weight. I quit wearing makeup because I felt that I didn't deserve it. I quit dressing up because I felt I didn't deserve it. I couldn't look at photos of myself without wanting to cry. I couldn't eat a meal without feeling guilt and shame. I didn't feel motivated by their cruelty, I felt defeated. I felt helpless. I felt like a disgusting waste of space that didn't deserve to live.

I have made some major improvements over the past year or so. I have been working with a therapist on the ED for a couple years now and this past year I have done really well. I still have days where I don't eat, but I can't remember the last time I purged or over ate. I got my thyroid out, and my weight is returning to where it was. People have been complimenting me, telling me how great I look, how noticeable it is, how hard I must be working, etc and instead of making me feel happy or proud it just makes me feel like shit. I still hate who I see in the mirror. I still hate my stomach and my chin and the fat around my arms. I bought some new makeup and I'm trying to put more effort into my appearance, but all I see in the mirror is a clown. Fatshaming did not motivate me to lose weight, it programmed me to always hate my body, no matter the size.

Anyways, I doubt anybody is going to read all this but it felt good to type it out. Don't fatshame. It never helps.

The number of times I've earnestly seen the take "but it's good for fat people to be mean to them! It motivates them to lose weight!"

Also whenever you provide even light pushback that maybe bullying people does not magically make them skinny but instead makes them depressed, they immediately demand scientific sources as if "bullying fat people is good for them" is scientific concensus and you therefore owe them a peer reviewed paper.

No babe I'm so sorry you're not actually doing people a service by being an asshole to them you just want an acceptable target and have decided that fat people are one. You don't get to be a bad person until you've produced 3 peer reviewed meta analyses that being a dick to random fat people improves their health, OK? I'm sure people will thank you for your invaluable service of being an asshole.

#i genuinely believe my worth is dependent on my fuckability #and i know that's wrong and fucked up and I'm trying to work on it but that's how i feel #me #fat acceptance #fat activism

888 notes · View notes

yougavememyopia · 6 hours ago

Text

Part 1, 18+ NSFW, but nothing too graphic. Grinding. Threats of suicide (a bit). Yeah, enjoy! The third part will be smutty, promise.

Crybaby yandere, who loved to lay his head on your lap. Your hand lost in his fluffy hair, scratching his scalp gently. He sighed quietly, the flood of tears running down to stain your clothes.

He'd do this often. Latch onto you for comfort— muffled sobs leaving him while he stuffed his face under your shirt— his nose poking your stomach, hot breaths fanning your skin. His arms draped over your waist, tightening each time your petting stopped.

"This feels like heaven. Your smell is driving me crazy... hic! I love you— so, so much!"

He suddenly sat up to face you with his big, glassy eyes. A begging look on his face that he gave you so often. You knew what he wanted from the way his eyes moved to your lips. His mouth opening only to sound a whimper. Your kisses took him to paradise, but it was so embarrassing for him to ask.

You couldn't be cruel to him. At least not so early in this 'relationship' that you ended up accepting. He made your heart melt— an innocent, pretty looking boy who longed nothing but to be suffocated by your love— how could you turn him away?

He'd cry so cutely every time you made out with him. Eye closed and head tilted backwards against the couch as you take it further by kissing up and down his neck. He was already panting, his uneven, shaky breathing increasing when you reached down under his clothes. Caressing and stroking his stomach.

The dried tears on his cheek washed away with new ones. He felt ecstatic. The happiest he'd ever been. Whimpers and soft gasps filled the silence while you sucked marks on his skin. He couldn't help but moan at the thought of you claiming him— the pleasured tears now stinging his poor eyes.

"Do you want me to stop?" You said sweetly, cupping his face and pulling back to look at the disheveled mess you created. "Is it too much for you, baby?"

"Mmgh... It feels amazing." He swallowed heavily, his tongue wiping the drool at the corner of his mouth. You had no idea what that nickname did to him. It made him all stupid— he just wanted to kneel down and let you control him however you wanted. "Oh, fuck. I think I'm gonna die..."

He closed his eyes, unable to look at you. A bit embarrassed at his sensitivity and the uncontrollable buldge nudging for your attention. He shifted around on your lap— was it possible to come just from making out? He felt so close already and you haven't even touched him.

You press soft kisses on his precious eyelids. Feeling his hot cheeks under your tongue. You lapped up the salty droplets, tracing a wet line over his swollen bottom lip. Reminding him of all the kisses you shared.

He couldn't hold back anymore. With a grind against your thighs, he came undone— his fingers digging into your shoulders and his head thrown back in pleasure.

His tongue dangled out as you sucked on it. Whines swallowed up by your mouth. He felt so dizzy, so so good. His pants all ruined, and his heart racing out of control. Almost like he was on the brink of passing out.

"You have the lewdest expressions." You teased him in a slutry voice. But instead of going all shy and covering his face, he looked at you with a blank gaze.

"You're... gonna keep me, right?" His breathing turned normal, voice barely a whisper. "You're not gonna leave me, right? If- If you do, I swear I'll kill myself. I can't live without you. I can't... I just can't."

Your brows furrowed. What was he going on about? He was so insecure; despite all the times you reassured him, he behaved in a way that made it seem like you secretly hated him. You barely got a moment of solitude ever since he broke into your house, but never complained about it. So where did all his sensitivity come from?

"I need you, do you understand? I need you! Life before you was..." He gulped, the grip on your shoulders tightening. "I can't go back... can't. Can't. I- I love you. I swear, you're the best thing that ever happened to me. If I never met you, I would've..."

"Hey. I'm here now, right? How about a bath? Does that sound good?" You suggested, to ease his mind. Hands resting on his soft thighs. Messaging them gently. "I can wash your hair, and-"

"You don't want to see me naked..." He mumbled. His hands lowering down to yours. Pleading eyes waiting for your sweet praise. Ears perked up for the words he wanted to hear.

"I'm not gonna judge you. I won't abandon you. I... I'll keep you, alright? Is that what you want to hear?" You sighed, unsure why you felt a bit agitated. It was as if he was doing this on purpose. Slowly manipulating you with guilt so he could get exactly what he wanted.

A shy blush appeared on his face, the red hue coating his skin. Loving every word of approval. "More... S-say I'm yours. Please... Ah, I want to hear it so bad! Please! Call me yours, your baby. Pleasepleaseplease."

His fingers curled around yours, frustrated tears already wetting his eyelashes as he looked up at you with half-lidded eyes. Wanting nothing more than make you possessive of him. His dirty pants rubbed against you as he shifted closer. The cute pout back to make your stomach flutter. You were going to spoil him rotten.

#yandere #desperate yandere #yandere oc #obsessive love #yanblr #pathetic yandere #dom reader #male yandere #pathetic men #sub yandere #yandere x reader #yandere boy #male yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere x darling

143 notes · View notes

georgeweasleyslostearhq · 2 days ago

Text

EDDIE MUNSON HCs Part 2 - nsfw

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

18+

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

you are not safe to bend over in front of this man, he'd grab your hips and hump you until you push him away

will not let you leave his trailer without at least 1 (10) hickey

he's the king of teasing

this man is into medieval roleplay, he likes being a knight saving a damsel in distress or brings dnd into it.

he loves being tied up/ tying you up. it just gives him such pleasure, escpeciialy if there is blindfolding, he loves the idea of you getting to touch him and not knowing what you'll do next, it also makes his other senses highten so he feels everything 100% better

edging, thats all i need to say.

he is big on praise

"that's it baby" "you're doing so well f'me" "take me so well" "atta girl"

he's very vocal, and LOUD. that man will be moaning and panting in your ear, stuffing his face in your neck just sloppily thrusting into you.

he will take so many polaroids, in every position, we're taking his fingers in your mouth, tasting yourself on him/ your tits coverd in his juices, your ass in the air, with bright red handprints decorating your skin.

^later on he'd ask if he can make one of them an album cover but you said no.

he's into worshipping. he'll treat you like the godess you are and make sure to give every bit of you attention

i said he was into praise, but he's also degradation, saying things like

"such a slut, aren't you?" "look at you, you're so pathetic" "get on your knees, whore, show me how much you want to taste my cock"

this mans dirty talk is elite, although he has his moments when he gets totally awkward and stammers, (in the beginning f your relationship) that would made you scrunch your nose and shake your head with a litte giggle,

^when this would happen he'd get really flustered and let you take over

hair pulling.

loves when he's told what to do

he'll deny you of orgasms so much until when he finally lets youvyou're just too weak to even scream, you'll just whimper, and he'll pout like a sadistic bitch.

"is that all you got f'me?"

he can go forever, until you're a crying mess begging to stop, and, the gentleman he is, immediatley stops until you pull him back on top of you

to say he loves watching you squirm and writhe underneath him is an understantement, he LIVES for it

his favourite position is reverse cowgirl with him sitting upright behind you, hearing your ass slap against his lap as his hands find their way to your breasts. he likes this position because he can have easy access to your neck and have you leaning against his chest. all while whispering in the shell of your ear.

mate's good with his tongue

rings stay on when he's fingering you

not a big fan of toys. he thinks he's enough to please you

he'd 100% pull out a joint as you ride his dick. and depending on the situation, you'd either share it with him or get really annoyed because that cocky smirk wants you to be irritated

"what are you doing?" you'd stutter as you pant "keeping myself occupied" he'd answer

after that, you'd ride him even harder, trying to get his attention- that's the only reason he does it. to watch you bounce on his cock so hard just for him

his aftercare is most of the time him just lying beside you lazily, yawning because he'd tired himself out, mumbling that you do a good job and just holding you close to him

but when he's not used his full potential on giving you at least 5 rounds (because you must have been tired) he'd take the best care of you

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

#x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson headcanons #headcannons #joseph quinn #smut #not safe for minors #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader

122 notes · View notes

the-witty-pen-name · 17 hours ago

Text

The Love Triangle from Hell (4)

Steve Harrington x F!Reader / Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: Following the events of PART THREE, things begin to heat up.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), piv sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk/nicknames, kissing, messy messy feelings; unrequited love; cursing; arguments; crying; hurt/comfort; angsty angst; allusions to violence; miscommunication; jealousy

Series Masterlist

A/N: I continue to be overwhelmed by the love you all have given this series. I appreciate you all so much. Everyone who have commented, reblogged and followed- thank you so much. I love reading everything and I have had so much fun seeing everyone's reactions. It fills me with so much joy. Let me know what you think of this next chapter!

Please vote for Eddie or Steve in the poll at the end while it is live! The results will be how I end this series <3 BUT, if you want me to do an alternative ending as like a bonus chapter let me know cause I'd love to do that too.

His knuckles were white from his grip on the steering wheel, Steve felt like he lost control of his actions as he resolved to follow Eddie’s van. Eddie had said you wanted space, but now he’s here picking you up from the game? What the actual fuck. He’s fuming, the longer the night goes on. He should’ve just gone home, probably. But he was so angry at himself for taking forever, he couldn’t wait another second. He’d finally had the epiphany. He loves you. He wants you so badly, he can’t find it in him to care if he ruins everything.

Earlier that day, it had hit him all at once. That overwhelming, all encompassing realization that stopped him dead in his tracks. Robin had left for the day, and he was stuck behind the counter rewinding returned tapes. He’d been sitting with his own thoughts. He was thinking about that dream, and then he was also just thinking about you. You took up all his senses- all he could think about was you. He looked back on shared moments with you in a different light. So many moments between the two of you that would’ve been your start. How could he have not seen it, seen you, all this time?

Oh.

He’d bailed on the rest of his shift at Family Video, fuck it. Keith wouldn’t fire him anyways. He knew Robin mentioned the game- of course you’d be there. He’d realized he loved you and didn’t want to waste another second. He wanted to find you in the crowd, climb up over the stands to whoever you were, and finally fucking kiss you. It was his grand gesture.

His plan would have worked, but it was easier said than done. The confidence he felt before was wiped from him when he saw the way your face fell. He thought you didn’t want to see him, and that you were upset to run into him. He misread your sadness for distaste and resentment. That brief moment made his whole world come tumbling down around him. You were sad because you missed him, but he didn’t know that. So his plan fumbled in a moment of panic.

Seeing you with Eddie had been his final straw. He felt like a ticking clock counting down was looming over his head. He was running out of time, he was losing you. He couldn’t let that happen. Was he going about it the right way? Probably not, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care in the least as he stormed over. Everything he’d been feeling was heightened. He was panicked and desperate and angry and so fucking jealous. This should’ve been him with you, driving you home in his car, and he had fucked that up.

Eddie remembers how nervous he was when he picked you up for the dance that Friday night. He’d done his best to tame his hair, and Wayne let him borrow his suit. Wayne had stayed to help with his tie and to give him a talking to about how to be a gentleman when Eddie went to pick you up.

“Actually go up to the goddamn door and knock. Say good evening to her parents,” Wayne instructed. “Make sure you hold her hand to help her down the stairs, open her car door, hold the door for her…”

“Wayne I know, I know,” Eddie fused, worried he was going to be late. “It’s not a date anyways,” Eddie insists, although he wished it was. Wayne scoffs.

“Whatever you say,” he said, rolling his eyes at Eddie.

“Lemme get a picture,” Wayne had insisted, stopping Eddie from running out the door. Grumbling the whole time, Eddie stood in their little kitchen while Wayne fumbled with his old camera. “You never look halfway decent, gotta capture it for the book.”

The photo is still hanging up on Wayne’s fridge to this day. Eddie has not worn a suit since.

Arriving at your house was so daunting to Eddie. He’d never really met your parents before. Just in passing when he’d pick you up or drop you off for school. He’d been to your house before, you’d hosted a few times for Hellfire- but it was never anything like this. This was special.

He went up to the door like Wayne instructed and he shook your dad’s hand. He was worried that they’d judge him- they would hate his hair or something. It’s the first time he’s relieved that his tattoos aren’t out on display. They were both kind to him, but he could tell they were not sure how to react to him. Self-conscious, he worried they were disappointed because he wasn’t Steve. Eddie wasn’t who they pictured for you. They envisioned you with Steve. That was they future they had planned.

Eddie thought you looked absolutely unreal that night. He always thought that those scenes where the girl makes her grand entrance and floats down the stairs were corny. Until it happened to him and it felt like time stopped. Your descent down the stairs after your mom called you down had Eddie in a trance. You were angelic in your dress, the one Eddie will pretend you bought for him- not for Steve. Eddie must have been staring with his mouth agape, because your father needed to clear his throat for Eddie to realize you’d been expectantly waiting for him to say something. Literally anything.

“You look beautiful,” Eddie marveled, and you giggled a shy thank you. A few hundred photos later and you both were finally on your way.

You were right, the Snow Ball was not Eddie’s scene at all. He didn’t like the music, or the people, but he was just so happy to be spending time with you that he couldn't care about literally anything else. You seemed happy too. Eddie thought you were glowing. He even danced to every song you wanted and took the cheesy photo booth pictures. You tore the photo strip in half so you could each have some. You use yours as a bookmark to this day and Eddie’s is still clipped to the visor in the van.

You’d hardly even noticed Steve the whole night. Eddie kept you on your feet and kept you laughing so hard your stomach hurt.

The bang on the side of the van made you jump. You both were startled. You watched as Eddie’s eyes widened as the panic set in for both of you. Neither of you had ever seen Steve like this, it wasn’t his nature. You both didn’t know what to do.

“Just wait here,” Eddie said comfortingly, before jumping out of the van. “I’ll talk to him.”

Steve stood outside waiting impatiently, his hands on his hips as his chest rapidly rose and fell. His hair was messy, as you watched from the side mirror, you could tell he’d been tugging at it- a nervous habit of his you knew quite well.

“What the fuck is this?” He accuses. Eddie offers his hands up in surrender jokingly.

“Come on Steve…”

“You told me she wanted space! Then you swoop in and pull this shit?”

“She did want space- not to be fucking ignored for weeks!” Eddie points out. “You had every opportunity and you just left her alone, so how long did you expect me to just stand around while you play these fucking mind games with her? I was the bigger person, Steve! I was willing to literally take myself out of the fucking equation if you both wanted each other- and you didn’t do shit!”

Steve looks towards the van and you make eye contact in the side mirror. He looks devastated under the outward projection of anger. It’s like you’re a million miles away. He can’t be too late. He just couldn’t. How is he supposed to just walk away after everything? Is this just it? He pleads that you’ll do something- say something- anything! Just tell him you still care.

You avert your gaze. Steve shallows harshly.

Eddie crosses his arms, and steps in front of Steve’s view of you. “Come on man,” Steve pleads, voice cracking. “Let me just talk to her.”

Eddie looks to you, and you shake your head “no.”

“How about you call her tomorrow when you cool off? You’re scaring her,” Eddie proposes.

“You don’t speak for her,” Steve argues. “Baby, please,” he pleads looking over Eddie’s shoulder.

Baby? Eddie fumes- he can not be serious.

You roll down the window a crack. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Steve. I don’t want to talk to you right now,” you shout from the van. Before he can respond, you crank the window back up.

“Fine,” Steve glares at Eddie. It’s not over, but he’ll concede for now- if it’s what you want. He slams his car door shut before speeding away, the car screaming as he pulled away as quickly as he could.

He knew his parents would be gone, so he opted to go to their house to crash tonight. He couldn’t bear facing Eddie back at their place after this.

You don’t even realize that you’d be crying until you feel Eddie’s arms pull you in for a hug. He rubs your back comforting you as you are shocked at what just happened.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your hair before placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Let me bring you home, yeah?”

The ride back to your apartment is silent, neither one of you knowing what to say. Eddie doesn’t want to push, and you’re too exhausted to get into it. You rest your forehead on the cold glass of the window to help your head. Eddie wants to reach out and hold your hand as he drives, but he keeps his distance.

Eddie always walks you all the way to your front door, even after you’ve told him he doesn’t have to so many times. Wayne would kill me, he would joke. He held the door open for you so you could hop out. He held your arm, helping you navigate the icy walk. And he walked you upstairs to your apartment.

There’s a piece of paper taped to the front of the door.

I decided to spend the night at Vicky’s. Do with that information what you will. - Robin

“I don’t want to be alone,” you admit, a little panicked knowing you’d be walking into an empty apartment. Eddie sighs, biting his lip nervously. Steve is going to never want to see him again, he’s sure of it.

“I can stay if that would make you feel better?” He offers. You nod.

“Please.”

You pull the note down and toss it in the bin on your way inside. Eddie follows after you, kicking off his boots in the entryway. You both hang up your coats. You move over to the thermostat and turn it up. Eddie lingers in the living room, not quite sure what to do with himself. You both say nothing for a few moments.

“Eddie, I’m so sorry about all of this,” you say finally. “Just everything- everything is falling apart it feels like.”

“None of this is your fault- it’s really not anyone’s fault…well, except mine,” he says, like a confessional and he takes a step closer.

“Yeah,” you reply softly, matching his step.

The air in the room was thick with tension between the two of you. In the silence and still, there was a pull dragging you into each other.

“The whole thing is quite unfortunate really,” he contemplates, a knowing smile forming on his face. One step.

“Most unfortunate,” you whisper. One step. He reaches out and intertwines with fingers with his.

“Awful,” he whispers, tracing circles on your hands with his thumb gently. It sears through you completely.

He tilts his head and his lips ghost over yours. Your body feels like it’s on fire being so close to him. The first kiss is so delicate, and the familiar feeling ignites in you. It’s perfect, being held by him by this.

His lips are softer than you expect when they slot against yours. You let yourself forget about everything else in that moment- everything just melts away at his touch. Your brain melts at the sensation and warmth spreads throughout your whole body. You part your lips, inviting him to deepen the kiss and he does gladly.

Waiting for a kiss like this was worth it, Eddie thinks. All the nights he spent thinking about it and all the times he held back from touching you… all of it felt like nothing as you fill up all his senses. It’s almost too much.

“Sweetheart… please,” he begs, mumbling against your lips. His hands rest on the expanse of your back and the sensation sends a shiver up your spine. You gently tug by his belt loops closer to you, so your body is flush against his. You moan softly against his lips.

Without disentangling himself from you, he guides you as you walk backwards towards the door of your bedroom. His hands make everywhere on your skin burn in their wake as he brings them down your back, to your hip, then settle firmly on your ass. It makes you whimper.

The back of you knees touch the edge of your bed, and you let yourself fall backwards- pulling Eddie to climb on top of you. His hair tickles as it curtains your faces, and he leans in to press hot kisses to your jaw and down your neck, a hickey forming right where he ends just above your collarbone.

When he pulls back briefly, you take the opportunity to pull your sweater over your head and toss it to the floor. Eddie’s movements stutter, his eyes hungrily taking in all of the newly exposed skin. You were a vision. “Shit,” he breathes, “look at you.”

He wastes no time pulling his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him. Warmth rushes to your core at the sight of his tattoos, the subtle muscle under his pale skin, the chain around his neck, the happy trail that leads down to wear his jeans are hanging low on his hips and showing off a prominent bulge… you’re fucked. He sits up on his knees over your thighs and your body aches at the separation.

You watch as he takes his hair and gathers it together in his hands. Making a ponytail should not be this sexy, but it’s Eddie. He winks at you as he does when he notices the way you’re staring with your mouth open, heaving breathing.

“Take these off, sweetheart,” Eddie hums, nodding down to your jeans as he pulls the elastic from his wrist around to secure it in his hair. You’re face is warm as you nod, wiggling out of them and kicking them away. You’re left in just your bra and panties and spread out before him.

“These are so pretty,” he muses, teasingly, running his ringed fingers over the skin just above the edge of your panties. He kneels down on the floor at the foot of the bad, hooking your legs over his shoulders in one fluid motion. “So pretty,” he mumbles, pressing delicate, teasing kisses to your inner thighs as his hands rub up and down the length of your legs.

His eyes are directly in line with the wet spot that has formed on your panties. It aches, and you’re desperate for him to do something about it. Without him even touching you yet, you’re squirming in the anticipation that he will do something to soothe the sensation that has been building up in your core.

He presses a kiss to your heat over your panties, his nose pressing against your clit and the feeling makes you gasp, relieved for just the littlest amount of contact. Satisfied with your response to him, he hooks his thumb through your panties, and drags them aside- the metal of his rings feel cool against the hotness of your skin and it makes you flutter.

He grins devilishly, “All of this for me, pretty girl?”

One hand holds your panties, the other rests on your hip to hold you steady when Eddie wastes no time, devouring you. His nose against your clit, his tongue lapping at your arousal- it was too much. He was like a man starved. How dare you deny him this for so long. He was desperate to taste you, and he groans- he knew you’d be so fucking sweet. He just knew it.

He pulls back to rub his thumb over your clit, making circles that feel so good you could cry. You’re so needy, writhing in his arms as you feel a familiar knot form in your stomach. With his thumb firmly in place, he returns to latch his tongue back to you.

“Eddie,” you whine, your hands tangles in your sheets to stabilize yourself. Your head is spinning, and you know you’re so fucking close. “Please,” you cry desperately at the sensation, chasing your climax.

Eddie continues his pace, the exact way you need him to and he continues to work you through your first orgasm. He kisses your thighs when you finish and he smiles at you- his face glistening with your slick. Cheeky bastard. He kisses your legs, your stomach and all the way back up to your lips, tasting yourself on him. He tugs off your panties and tosses them on the floor. Something about making you cum, a switch flipped in Eddie.

He’s kissing you like he’s depending on it to survive, he’s feeling confident and desperate to do that again. He practically growls against your skin, face buried in your neck. He works off his jeans and boxers. Your mouth waters. He’s gorgeous fucking everywhere.

“Your turn,” you mumble, unhooking your bra, eyes wandering to Eddie’s hard cock. He shakes his head, kissing you again. Fuck if he doesn’t want that, but he can’t trust himself to not completely fall apart.

“Next time, sweetheart,” he promises, and you pout. “Need to fuck you,” he mutters against your lips, his blood breath heavy against yours. You moan at his words.

“Please, Eds,” you drawl, “need you inside me.”

He teases your entrance, the top of his cock so painfully close to pushing inside you. “I’m going to fuck you so good you’ll forget all about Steve, sweetheart.”

“Oh, fuck, Eddie please,” you whine, you hips trying to create some friction, already desperate and needy for another release. Oh, you liked that, Eddie muses. He can deliver.

“He doesn’t deserve this pretty pussy does he?” Eddie muses, pushing in just the tip of his cock, watching as you fall apart, desperate for more of him. “This perfect… fuck, tight pussy,” he moans, pushing himself fully into you.

“Can’t take care of you as good as I can,” he promises, thrusting into you at just the right, hitting that spot that makes your brain go stupid. You feel so full of him, you can’t imagine anyone feeling better than Eddie by the way he’s fucking into you.

“He’s never gonna fuck you as good as this,” Eddie promises. You can believe it. He leans down and kisses your neck, his hand massaging your breast, tugging gently at your hard nipple before giving the same care and attention to the other one as well. He whispers more filthy things against your neck, and you moan- your body responding to his so well.

“Fit around me so good, sweetheart,” he muses, hot kisses trailing over the stance of your neck, “you take my cock so well.”

“Such a good girl… making my cock all messy,” he praises, and then he presses his lips to yours in a desperately messy kiss. “Fuck, sweetheart…”

Tears threaten the corners of your eyes, it all is too good, too overwhelming. You’re so over sensitive from your first orgasm, you are reaching your peak again, all too quickly for your liking. You can’t help it- he feels too good and he’s so fucking attentive and fuck- you feel so close.

“Cum on my cock princess,” Eddie encourages, feeling you tighten around his cock. “you’re gonna look so good for me, let me see you cum for me, yeah?”

He holds your cheeks in his hand, your lips squished together as you look up at him, wide eyed. “You can do it, be a good girl and cum all over my cock,” he encourages. It’s just enough to make you fall apart all over again. Messy things spilling from your mouth as your body pulses and he continues his pace, working you through it- kissing your forehead.

Eddie pulls out, making a mess on your stomach as he cums. Exhausted, he collapses on the bed next to you. He kisses you softly, praising you for being so good for him. It makes you feel like putty. He disappears for a second, disappearing behind the door. He comes back with water for you and a warm cloth. He kisses you, making you take the water from him, and then he cleans you up gently, kissing your body all over after the job is done.

You don’t know what you’re going to say to Steve. All you care about now, is burrowing yourself into Eddie’s chest. For the first time in weeks, you and Eddie both actually sleep soundly, limbs tangled together- your bodies intertwined.

Taglist: @sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt @moonlightsolo @kyga01 @sheisjoeschateau @melaninjhs @v3lv3tf0x @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @sunshine-mrk @danymunsonharrington

90 notes · View notes

summertimesadnessirl · 16 hours ago

Text

Someone else broke my life.

They should have to fix it.

I have repaired the damage of my shitty childhood and my shitty economic system and built a life I wanted to live like 3 times already.

I'm not doing it again.

If someone wants me to not rot in bed until I find a way to kill myself that sticks and is permanent for once...

Idk if this is a real ancient Chinese thing or something they made up for a shitty movie, but if you save someone's life you are responsible for them.

I feel like I am not responsible for what happens to me. I am not in control of my life. I keep saving my life and "doing the work" and in return not receiving personal autonomy. I'm not saying personal autonomy like blah blah blah toxic hyper independence you suck I hate you blah.

I'm saying I should be able to do the work and live alone and not have sudden random drastic fluctuations in my income, I repaired my credit and saved a huge emergency fund and lost it and now I'm in debt worse that before. I should be able to make friends and romantic liasons and business relationships with people where they don't fuck me over on the way out and they just wish me the best of luck. I should be allowed to be easily able to afford the things that make it easier to live with my disability without having to justify them to anyone and I should be allowed to tell people to fuck off if they are mean to me, and I should be allowed to know that if something is wrong in a social setting that people put on their adult underwear and tell me in words what is wrong before retaliation against me, and that my disability won't be used against me, and that I can tell people details of my life when they ask for them without having to worry that later they will intentionally use them to humiliate me, and I should be allowed to live in a society where we normalize the idea that people who follow the rules but use them to fuck people over are to blame for their own actions and the people who are pretending to be so hamstrung by the rules that they can't help are actually just as bad and the people who tell you it's your responsibility to do better and share dubious advice with you are on thin fucking ice.

Literally I built myself a little tiny micro version of that in my own life.

And then someone came and violated me and took it. And they did it in such a way that they will never face consequences and I have to know that no matter what I do, they could do that to anyone.

Building anything is pointless.

Saving my life is pointless.

Living has no value if it's only your breath and your lungs.

I'm not saying I won't work, I worked on my business for years before I got a dime, I worked 6 to 7 days a week when I had it running well for the majority of the time. I'm saying I'm not going to run at some fucking football and pretend that I'll be able to kick it this time.

The only thing I am willing to put the bare minimum of effort into is paying my bills and trying to figure out how to die in one shot relatively easily alone in my home.

I don't want to take anyone with me or die in front of anyone. And I don't want to heal. I did that. It took years and years and every time I got close and once I did, people just came along and retraumatized me.

It didn't even take much time or effort on their part.

So what I am going to do is die.

All of you are going to watch.

That's what you wanted.

You wouldn't be satisfied with anything else.

People have been coming at me and attacking me and spiting me and backstabbing me and betraying me and liking to see my cry my whole life.

Offering them something else hasn't worked. Hiding hasn't worked. Compromise hasn't worked. Begging hasn't worked. Therapy hasn't worked. Drugs, legal and prescription. Friendship, love, philosophy, religion, witchcraft, meditation, hypnosis, vice, virtue. None of it has worked.

You wanna torture me to death?

Here ya go.

If you didn't want to torture me to death, this wouldn't have gone on for three goddamn years straight.

If you wanted to not hurt me, you would have stopped hurting me when I said you were hurting me.

This was never what I wanted ot what I agreed to or what I asked for.

“no one else can save you” ok cool well i don’t want to do it. i do not view myself as worth saving anyway. godspeed

490 notes · View notes

kissbyoon · 1 day ago

Text

( 🌲 ) ݁₊ “I ALWAYS COME BACK.”

╰┈ Jeonghan knows how to make you relieved and smile.

₍ 𝑓𝘵. ₎ 𓈒 정한 ˶ fluff, angst, comf * kissing, petnames (love, baby) ⎯⎯ 1.2k ꒱ ✦ husband!jh x wife&f!rea

♪ A/N : this was completely based on this reel I suddenly came across in my highlights and I knew I had to do this !! big thanks to @wonkierideul ღ hope u enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing!! (◠‿◠)

"love?" You called out.

Wiping your eyes, you tried to clear your vision as a yawn escaped your mouth.

You move your blanket to get up, but as soon as the cold air hits your skin, you're under the comfort of your blanket again.

Sighing, you wrap the blanket around yourself and groan as you use all your strength to lift yourself up.

The weather was undoubtedly not suitable for outings, but you're sure you hear some rambling coming from the next room and you panic.

“No, he can't be…” you murmur, immediately getting up and dragging your feet along the floor towards the living room.

As expected, your eyes landed on your husband, Jeonghan, who was stuffing clothes into a suitcase. It hadn't been months since his military discharge yet the company is already putting him on work.

You halt, observing his every move; when you have no idea, your eyes start to tear up.

Jeonghan leans back and rests his hands on his hips with a sigh. Just as he begins to zip up the suitcase, he feels someone staring at him.

He turns around, a bright smile spreading across his face as his eyes land on you—standing by the door in his clothes. But it soon vanishes when he realises that you were crying.

You don't remember for how long you've been standing by the doorway of your shared bedroom, sniffling and sobbing, using the sleeve of your (Jeonghan’s) t-shirt to wipe your tears away.

“Wha— baby?” Jeonghan was quick to throw his phone on the bed and rush to you, his face painted with concern. His one hand held yours, with the other on your cheek.

“Baby? Look at me, please?” He urged, his touch gentle as he stroked your cheek.

Raising your head, you tried to look at him, but it only made you burst into tears loudly, and Jeonghan tried to hold in his chuckle at the sight of you crying like a toddler.

Which, by the way, he found adorable.

You buried your face in his neck, crying out loud—your husband wrapped his arms around you, softly patting your back to calm you down.

“Shh… it's all okay, I'm here.” kissing the crown of your head, his words came out in a comforting tone; soothing the trembling of your body.

But your crying continued.

“Baby—”

“Don't go… please.” Your words came out as a plea; desperate and helpless. Jeonghan paused, staring at the floor.

He was expecting it, but not in this way.

He looked at you—who was clutching onto his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart, and it broke him.

“I'm not going anywhere, my love.” He inhaled deeply, and looked at you with a softened gaze.

Jeonghan was patient. He was patient as he waited for you to calm down before he could talk to you; gently holding you in his arms, swaying your body with his. Something that Jeonghan always did to relax your mind.

When you finally calmed down, your heartbeat and breathing steady—he placed one of his hands on the back of your head, slowly leaning back so he could face you.

As soon as your eyes met, the same beautiful smile spread across his face and he tilted his head. “So, that was the thing bothering you?”

His voice was comfortingly soft, with a hint of amusement that he always carried around to lighten the mood.

Nodding, you maintain eye contact with a pout on your face, sniffling. “When was the last time you stayed home?��

Jeonghan paused, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

“Uh, before… military…?”

“Exactly,” you choked out those words, puffing up your cheeks while a bright shade of red dusted your face.

He breathes a laugh, tightening his grip around you. Leaning down to bury his face in your neck, he rubbed your sides and smiled when your familiar sweet scent hit his nose.

“I'm sorry~” he cooed in a soft whisper, a hint of teasing in his voice that you could never miss.

“This won't make me happy by the way.”

Jeonghan pecked your neck, leaning back to kiss your cheek and jaw. “Now?”

“No.” you simply huffed, not even hugging him back as you kept your arms folded against your chest.

He lifted his head, eyes locked with yours and a gentle smile played on his lips that you wish you could snatch away with a kiss—

“It's just for a week, love. I'll come back and I'll not go anywhere else.” He widened his smile, cupping your cheeks that made you smile faintly. For a few seconds, you both stared at each other, his smile never leaving—he suddenly leaned in, pecking your lips.

“Wait here, okay?” In such a sweet voice, he said. It melted every part of you that was mad at him as he quickly ran towards your shared bedroom and soon returned with something in his hands.

Doljjongie. His pet rock, whom he often refers to as ‘our child’.

“Tada!” He squealed, taking your hands to hand you Doljjongie. You let out a laugh, holding it so gently as if it was alive and moving.

Your face brightened with a smile as you caressed Doljjongie—the silly face Jeonghan had drawn, making you giggle.

Jeonghan was satisfied.

He took a few steps behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pecking your shoulder. His hands reached out to rest over yours; caressing Doljjongie as you did so too.

“Take care of mom, okay? Protect her like I've taught you!” Jeonghan pressed his lips into a thin line, furrowing his eyebrows like he was lecturing a child; it made you burst into laughter.

He chuckled when your laughter echoed in his ears. Resting his chin on your shoulder, he kept his eyes fixated on you; the look of relief on his face accompanied by his boyish grin.

“Feeling better?” You could barely hear him, his tone hushed and soft, like you're the most gentle thing. Tilting your head to look at him, you nod; your smile growing when you made eye contact with him.

“I'm sorry,” you sighed, moving one of your hand over his to caress it. “I overreacted, didn't I?”

Jeonghan shook his head, not leaving you with any more questions.

“You didn't, my love.” He simply stated, sighing in contentment as he closed his eyes; settling deeper in the peaceful moment shared between you two.

His words were out quick but it was reassuring.

“I always keep you waiting, don't I?” He broke the silence.

“Hm, you do.”

“But I always come back, right?” He peeped his head a little forward to look at your face, and when you did turn your head towards him; he smiled with his eyes closed. You did too.

Jeonghan pecked your cheek, taking your hand to intertwine your fingers with his.

“Don’t skip meals and sleep well while I'm away. Call me everyday, text me about your day, send me your outfit of the day. I'll be waiting, hm?”

You nod, putting doljjongie aside on the couch, turning around to face him.

“I'll be waiting too.” Smiling, you press a quick peck to his lips and pull away—to which he immediately responds by pulling you by the waist to deepen the kiss.

146 notes · View notes

fanfictiongirlie · 2 days ago

Text

Supernatural: It Comes With The Job

Parings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Description: Reader and Dean go on a hunt and Reader puts herself in danger, once back at the motel the two have an argument about it, voices are raised, but in the end they make up.

Rating: Teen Audiences and Up

Warnings: Angst, arguing, swearing

Words: 1,635

I don't often write fluffy stuff with no smut. But I wanted to write something for Supernatural, I may end up writing a part two with smut, but I'm not sure yet. I wrote this at like 5am, so if there's any mistakes, kindly ignore them. Thanks! Anyways, enjoy! Let me know what you think! (Be kind!)

The tension was thick when you and Dean walked into your shared motel room, Sam had his own room, not wanting to share with you and Dean, knowing the activities you usually got up to.

You had just gotten back from a relatively successful case. Successful because the vampire you had been hunting was dead, but it left you a little banged up, covered in bruises and a few cuts. And all because you decided to make a reckless decision, using yourself as bait. It had worked in the end, and you survived, but Dean was pissed.

"You could of died" He finally snapped.

"I got us out of there, didn't I?" You snapped back, not looking at him, you shrugged your coat off and threw it on the armchair.

"You almost got yourself killed!" His voice raised, and his jaw clenched, from behind you, he glared. His hands were clenched by his sides.

"That literally comes with the job Dean!" You yell, still not looking round, you weren't sure if you'd yell louder or cry if you met his gaze right now. You were in pain and wanted nothing more than to curl up into bed, but that wasn't looking likely.

"That doesn't mean you need to be reckless about it!" He argues.

"Says you, you're always reckless"

"It's different!" He says sharply. You whipped round, anger pulsing through you now, he was closer than you expected, towering over you. You shot daggers from your eyes, feeling your face redden.

"That better not be some bullshit, because I'm a girl thing!"

"That's not what I mean, and you know it" He stated, his tone dark "You put yourself in that scenario and you have gotten yourself-"

He let the words hang in his throat and looked away, his eyes closing for a moment. You were still sneering at him, you sighed and looked at the pain in his expression.

"Dean" You say quietly and a little softer "I knew I'd be okay"

"That doesn't matter!" He snapped, his tone a lot louder. "You almost weren't!"

You stepped back slightly, his yelling making you falter slightly. You hated when he yelled, it had always made you feel more stressed, and more angry. There was something about a men yelling at you, even Dean, that enraged you. Made you see red.

"You're too damn reckless sometimes" He mutters.

"And you're too damn overprotective sometimes" You mutter back, matching his tone. He scoffs and folds his arms over his chest.

"Well, excuse me for trying to keep you alive" He retorts dryly.

"I can keep myself alive" You mutter, copping his stance, folding your arms over your chest.

"Obviously not if you're going to keep putting yourself in ridiculously dangerous situations" He mutters, looking away from you.

"I don't know if you noticed, but I'm alive right now" You say a little louder than before. Dean finally turned back to look at you, his expression hardened.

"I did notice. I also noticed the fact that you could be dead right now, because of your stupid actions" He yells, his voice louder than your tone, it pissed you off. A lot. Enough to not think about what you say next.

"At least if I were dead, I wouldn't be standing here being yelled at like some friggin' kid!" You snap, regretting the words as soon as you say them. Dean froze, his eyes widened slightly.

He started at you for a moment, hurt clearly written across his face. He swallowed hard and looked away again, his jaw clenching.

"Fine" He grumbles "Maybe you should leave then. So you won't have to 'tolerate' me anymore"

"Dean" You say quietly, his words hurting you "I'm...I'm sorry"

"Save it" He replies in a monotone. It wasn't good when he shut down like this, especially when it was towards you. He stood there, staring at the wall, his hands balling into fists.

You nodded, knowing he needed some time to cool down.

"I'll be back later" You say quietly, grabbing your coat again. He didn't say anything. So you left the motel and walked across the carpark to the dinghy bar opposite the motel. It was lively, you grumbled slightly, not wanting to be around this many people, but you couldn't go back to the motel, so you ordered a drink for yourself.

Dean had stayed at the motel for a while after you left, staring at the same piece of wall, fighting the urge to go out looking for you.

Eventually, he decided to walk across to the bar, unknowing that's where you were. He walked inside and there you were, he spotted you sitting alone at the bar with a drink in your hand.

Your eyes caught him, and your heart ached for him. You wanted to stop arguing. So you decided to play yours and Dean's favourite game. You often went to bars, pretending not to know one another, and then start flirting. You stood up and walked over to him, hoping he'd play alone.

"Hi handsome, here alone?" You ask, smirking up at him.

He was surprised for a moment, not expecting you to come up to him. Especially after your fight earlier. He understood the game you were playing and smirked, raising an eyebrow at you.

"All by my lonesome" He answered, tilting his head as he took you in, clearly checking you out and taking in his fill of your form.

"What a shame, why don't you let me buy you a drink?" You ask him, placing your hand on his arm, squeezing his muscles lightly.

"Mm, that'd be lovely" He answered and put on his most charming smile, the one that made you melt every time. He ran his eyes over you again, and gestured to the booth closest to you, silently telling you to sit.

You ordered him a drink and another for yourself, he took the drink from you with a quiet 'Thanks' and took a swallow of it. He shuffled into the booth, sliding all the way to lean against the wall, you slide in after him, opting to sit next to him.

"Dean..."You say quietly "I'm sorry"

He was quiet for a moment, and you really thought he'd still be angry. His expression softened and he met your eye. You hoped he could see the sincerity in my apologetic look.

"I'm sorry too" He murmured "Things just got out of hand, but I shouldn't have said what I said in my anger. I should've never let things get to that point in the first place"

"No, I said some horrible things, I didn't mean it" You say sadly.

"I know you didn't" He replies, offering a small, reassuring smile. He reaches out, hesitating for a moment before placing his hand over yours, giving a gentle squeeze.

"I'm also sorry I did something stupid on the hunt"

"Are you ever not doing something stupid when you're hunting though?" He questions, with a smirk and a raised brow, though he tone was completely teasing.

"I could ask you the same thing" You say, matching his smirk.

"Hey, I only do stupid when necessary" He retorts, his voice lighter than before, his tone still teasing. He smirks and squeezes your hand again, whilst also taking a sip of his drink.

"Let's not argue anymore?" You say hopeful.

"Now that I can do" He agrees with you. His thumb absentmindedly caresses your knuckles gently.

"Though, I have heard that make up sex is really good" You say with a wink. He chuckles and raises an eyebrow, eyeing you up, obviously liking the idea.

"Oh yeah, you've heard that, have you?" He asks coyly.

"I have, it's facts, trust me" You say, moving a little closer to him.

"Mmhmm, I'd like to see the source on that" He says, he smirks and closed to gap between you, pressing his leg against yours, his arm moving to hold your waist.

"Luckily for you, I'm a hands on teacher"

A breathless chuckles escapes him at your words, his fingers on your waist gave a gentle squeeze.

"Is that so?" He asks, lowering his voice and leaning close so that his breath tickles your ear. You nod and then move slightly, wrapping your arms around his neck bringing him into a tight hug. You needed it, after the arguing. His hands slide around to your lower back, gently you closer. He buries his face against your shoulder, breathing in your unique scent and letting it wash over him.

"I hate fighting" You mumble into his jacket.

"I do too, and I hate that I let my anger get the better of me" He admits, his voice muffled against your shoulder. He nuzzles against the crook of your neck, his embrace tightening just a little.

"Me too"

"Then promise me one thing?" He murmurs, pulling away from you just slightly so that he could look you in the eye.

"Yes Dean?"

"Promise me you won't pull another stupid stunt like the one you pulled on the hunt today?" He asks, looking into your eyes, a serious expression in his eyes.

"I promise Dean" You whisper, hugging him tightly again. He held a tight grip on you in return, almost crushing you to him. He lets out a deep sigh against your throat as he buries his face against it. Kissing it softly, gently as a sigh of his appreciation.

You held onto him, probably looking strange, hugging in the middle of a bar but right now, you didn't care, you had stopped arguing and that was all that mattered. He places a soft kiss to your skin again, and you forgot all about the arguing, just happy you still had him and you were happy with each other once more.

#fluff #angst #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester imagine #dean x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural fanfiction

62 notes · View notes

zepskies · 2 days ago

Text

Omg really? Wow, thank you so much. That's honestly amazing to me, considering this was one of the hardest for me to write in Smoke Eater. 💞

(But after reading your wonderful review, thank you for making me cry. 🥹💗💗)

First of all, please don't apologize for the heartfelt thoughts you want to share with me. No matter how long or short, I love hearing what you think about my writing, and this is genuinely one of the best reviews I've ever received, because I can tell it came from the heart.

What's crazy is my mom and I also used to watch Chicago Fire together when she was trying to recover from surgery (where she had terrible complications and wasn't well for a long time). It became her comfort show, and I was happy to introduce it to her/have that bonding time where it kept her from thinking about her pain. But I'm so glad you thought to come here to perk yourself up after a rewatch.

honestly I have so many thoughts for each wonderful chapter but I would feel super guilty for spamming :’) this chapter in particular though, hits me harder than anything i’ve ever read before — not in a bad way!🤍

lol girl that's the best kind of spamming. I'd never be upset with that! 😂 Oh good, I'm glad it doesn't hit in a bad way. I was concerned about that for readers when I was first posting this part of the story. 💙

my mom had epilepsy, and I was her caretaker pretty much my entire life. I connect so much with this story because it, feels like i’m reading a mirror, if that makes any sense at all. with all the doctors and the worrying, it’s written so authentically, which is understandable after reading your author’s note. i’m so sorry you’ve experienced such difficult hardships and losses yourself honey, I offer my sincere condolences. and i’m sending you the biggest hugs 🫂🤍🤍

I'm sending you the biggest hugs right back, friend. I'm so sorry about what your mom went through, and what you went through too. Being a caretaker is not easy. I've seen it enough in my family that that's what I drew from in order to write this, so I'm glad it felt authentic to your experience. 🫂💞

now these lines/parts specifically had me crying like a baby lol. december of 2021, my mom had to have surgery at the start of the month. her recovery was going a little slow, but well. however she passed away overnight, 2 days after christmas, completely unexpected. the day before she had been doing so well too— she had more energy and was more mobile without needing as much assistance. came to find out later that’s something nurses call a surge? :/ either way, those moments in particular really tugged at my heartstrings ❤️‍🩹

I'm so sorry for your loss, my friend. It is blind sighting when it comes so unexpected like that. I haven't shared this publicly, but something similar happened with my grandfather this past December. His health declined suddenly, to the point we had to take him to the hospital. After seeming to get better after a few days, he went downhill even harder, and he passed away in mid-December. It's not the same thing as your situation, but I understand the feeling of "why did this happen like this?" But now he's at peace with my grandma. And your mom is free from her pain and discomfort too. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

this line too. I felt this way for so long after my mom died. I didn’t get the final cause for a while since she passed at home and not at a hospital, and to this day I wish I could go back. wish I could’ve done something different. but SUDEP (or, sudden unexpected death in epilepsy) is completely unpreventable so far. I just find it so cruel that this illness I spent my whole life helping her with, ended up taking her anyway and nothing I did mattered in the end. so reading that line, how she broke down, and everything she had been holding in, it really made my heart ache but I also felt less alone in a way.

And I'm sure you did everything you possibly could, just like the reader in this story. 💞 I didn't know about SUDEP, but I have a family member who takes medication for his epilepsy, so I'm going to be reading up on that. I'm so glad that this simple line made you feel less alone in any small way -- I also thought when I was writing that it not only fit what the character was going through, but that other people who've been caretakers for a family member like this would be able to identify with this feeling as well.

everything that followed, it’s like reading a reflection. I shutdown and just went through the motions afterwards too, but ohhh how nice it would’ve been to have a dean ❤️ his support, how he takes care of her, it’s so heartwarming. and it’s really comforting to read. <3

It's that awful "autopilot" thing that somehow allows us to get through the aftermath, in a way, right? If only we could all have a Dean to support us in those moments. Somehow, reading hurt/comfort fics help me feel better too though. 💓💓

a lot of my family distanced themselves afterwards which, it is what it is. that being said, the sentiment in this story of family isn’t always blood resonates with me a lot. my support system is really small, but they chose to be there for me unlike my blood relatives so, that theme in this story means so much — the way dean’s chosen family shows up for her as well, it’s so sweet. 💖

Ugh really? I'm sorry to hear that. 💙💙 But thank you for pointing that out -- that is the overarching theme of this story, a la SPN style. 🥹 Your chosen family can be just as powerful, if not more, than your blood family. And in this story, Dean's family is basically "adopting" the reader/you into it. 💕

I guess the gist of what i’m trying to say, is I wholeheartedly adore this series and it truly means so much to me 🤍 I appreciate your work so much, and I love the unique feeling each piece of your writing brings 💗💗 I know I may sound like a broken record but truly I don’t think I can ever put into words how much I love your blog. you are an absolute sweetheart, truly a light peeking out between cloudy skies 💞

Wow, I really did tear up of happiness. Thank you. 🥹🥹 I appreciate you right back for reading this story and connecting with it like you did. And I'm so glad that you enjoy my blog!! I've only been here on Tumblr for about 2 years actively, but connecting with people like you is what's keeping me here, and honestly gives me energy to write and express myself when I'm going through hard times.

This chapter specifically was very difficult for me to write for multiple reasons, as you saw in my AN, but again it makes me all the more grateful that this is the chapter you connect with the most. I'm very sorry for your loss though. I'm really touched that this story can give you some small comfort. 💞

(And no it's not too much. Thank YOU for taking the time to share this with me.)

Smoke Eater - Part 11

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst warning. But also major hurt/comfort.

Part 11: “Heart of the Home”

You sat very still.

Your hands were gripped together in your lap when the doctor entered. He was tall and lean and blonde, and he would’ve reminded you of your boss, except this man had a kinder face.

You were sitting on the edge of your grandfather’s bed, hoping the doctor would say the bloodwork and scans came back fine. That they wouldn’t need to admit George into the hospital for further testing. That he could go home in the morning.

But your life had never been quite that easy.

“Okay, George. I’m sorry, but we need to admit you,” said the doctor.

He explained that while the malignant tumor of his cancer had been removed last year, the scans that had been done last month hadn’t been able to detect the bright spots now formed on George’s lungs and lymph nodes.

The oncologist would have to confirm, but you all knew where this was headed. Likely those “bright spots” were tumors.

George nodded slowly at first, taking it all in. He asked what his options were, as far as treatment.

“Your oncologist will go over those options with you,” the doctor replied. “We’re going to move you up to Oncology shortly.”

George thanked him.

And you sat very still.

A hand fell on your arm, finally earning your gaze. George’s face was oddly calm, though the worry in his eyes was for you. You realized that he’d gently called your name, though you hadn’t heard him. Your ears were ringing.

His mouth parted to tell you something, but nothing came out. So instead, he tugged you into his arms, and he heaved a long sigh.

“I guess we’re here again,” he admitted. He let out a chuckle. “The Lord does like his tests…but maybe that car accident was a blessing in disguise, huh?”

You heard his voice, but your mind was buzzing—mainly with the doctor’s words, and with a bone-deep feeling that threatened to consume you.

Your car, your fault. Options, again. Here again.

Your fault.

When you didn’t answer, George pulled away a bit to give you a questioning look.

“Sweetheart?” he tried. You laid a hand on his arm.

“You still haven’t eaten dinner, have you?” you asked. Neither had you, for that matter. “I’ll get us something that isn’t rubbery turkey.”

George blinked at you, confused, with a growing edge of worry.

“Isn’t Dean getting your meds? Why don’t you wait for him to—”

“I’m fine,” you said, already getting up to grab your purse. “I’ll be back.”

George called your name again, but the ringing in your ears was now pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

You made your way down the hall to the lobby at a brusque clip, even with your neck brace on. You didn’t see Dean, but he certainly saw you as he was walking back into the hospital. Frowning, he followed and called out to you.

You slowed when you saw him, and he soon caught up with you. He rested a hand on your back.

“Hey, where you goin’?" he asked.

“We haven’t eaten in a while. I’m going to the cafeteria,” you said. Though you seemed distracted, your eyes meeting his only briefly. It triggered a small spidey sense running up Dean’s spine.

He gave you your prescription pain medication, which you took with a small “thank you.”

“Everything okay?” he asked. “How’s George doing?”

“Fine. He’s resting,” you said. And by the look of you, that seemed to be true. But he spotted the tremble in your hands when you took the pill bottle package from him. It made him stop you when you tried to keep walking down to the cafeteria.

“Okay, you wanna run that by me again?” Dean asked.

You frowned, and your brows knit together. “What?”

“Is there something going on?” he pressed.

You sighed, but you didn’t answer him. You looked exhausted, and like you’d rather swallow your own tongue than speak. You shook your head and laid a hand on his wrist.

“I’m fine. Dean, thank you for everything you did tonight, but you still have to work tomorrow. Go home, get some rest,” you said.

You turned from him again. That was your first mistake. He reached out and grasped your hand to stop you.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he said.

“What?” you said in irritation. Your second mistake was not being able to look at him.

Dean was frowning in earnest now. Worry clawed in his gut, which was also telling him not to let you walk away from him. His grip shifted to hold both of your arms and move directly in front of you. He dipped his chin, trying to get you to meet his eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I need you to talk to me.”

You inhaled a shuddering breath. A wave was rising inside you, threatening to pull you into its undertow. Your eyes burned, red and shining. Dean finally saw it when you raised your head, what little you could. Your mouth began to quiver, looking into his eyes. And it was done.

You could no longer be still.

Dean held you when you fell apart in the hallway.

Dean called out of work the next day to stay with you and George. Gordon would be acting Lieutenant until his next shift, and Dean was sure the man would take full enjoyment out of it.

He couldn’t care about that right now though. He felt that his place was here, being your quiet wall of support while you and George and the oncologist talked about treatment options.

“Normally, at the stage we’re in, I would be recommending chemotherapy,” said Dr. Benton.

“Normally?” you echoed.

“At the rate this is progressing, the treatment would have to be aggressive,” he said. His gaze focused on George. “However, at your age, and the current state of your overall health…at this point, I don’t think the rigors of treatment would be worth diminishing your quality of life.”

“What are you saying?” you asked. Your voice cut like a whip, earning the other men’s gazes.

George was the first one to lay a hand on your arm. “You know what it means, honey…he’s saying it ain’t worth it.”

“Of course, it’s worth it,” you retorted. With your brows furrowed and lips pursed, your eyes went from him to the doctor. “Just because he’s older, we shouldn’t even try? Is that what you’re saying, doctor?”

At that, even Dean drew closer to lay a hand on your back. Meanwhile, George squeezed your arm.

Benton shook his head gravely. “That’s certainly not what I’m saying.”

“How much time would I get, if I started treatment,” George asked, before you could volley further with the doctor.

Benton met the other man’s gaze.

“I’m going to be honest with you, George. You may get a few more weeks, or even a few months. But that is a best-case scenario.”

Dean drove you all home that day, after George decided to formally waive treatment. Both men knew you were angry in your silence, but neither one wanted to press you. Dean was too wary, and George was too tired.

Once he was settled in bed, you hadn’t even left his room yet before you grabbed a notepad off his desk and wandered into the hall. You started to make a list of things you still needed from the grocery store, among other things. Dean took that piece of paper out of your hands.

“Good. I’ll handle this,” he said. “Meanwhile, you can get upstairs, take a shower, take your meds, and get some sleep.”

You frowned at him. “You haven’t slept either, Dean.”

“I’m used to it,” he said, giving you a wink and a slight smile. Overnight shifts could be a bitch at a firehouse, but Dean was no stranger to having his sleep interrupted.

“Listen to him, honey. He’s speaking sense,” George called from inside his room. The bedroom door was still open. He was settling into his bed while trying to stifle a cough. He sipped at a cup of water you’d brought for him.

Still, you looked reluctant. Dean held your arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Come on,” he said. “You were in an accident yesterday. You’ve had one hell of a night. You need your rest, or you’ll be no good to anyone.”

And if you pushed yourself much more, he worried that he’d have to take you right back to the hospital. Dean would rather not have that scare so close to the last one.

He brushed your cheek with gentle fingers. With the limited mobility your neck brace provided, you did your best to look up at him. Your eyes were softer.

“Okay,” you breathed.

“Okay? All right, good,” Dean said. You held onto his jacket for a moment, leaning against him.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You felt the burn of tears behind your closed eyelids. A few of them squeezed past and slipped down your cheeks. Dean held your face, brushing the tears away with his thumbs.

“Hey, I’m here, all right? Just let me help you,” he said. “You can lean on me when you need to.”

“I haven’t had that in a long time,” you admitted. “Part of me doesn’t know how to lean.”

“I get that,” Dean said. But you both knew that there was a long and difficult road ahead. He knew he didn’t have to remind you of it. “Whatever you need, you just tell me, okay? If nothing else, I’ve got a strong pair of shoulders.”

Somehow, you smiled. You pressed your forehead against his chest and inhaled deeply, to steady yourself.

“That you do, Lieutenant.”

You left for your room soon after, but not before you brought him down to you for one more tearful kiss.

Dean then watched you climb up the stairs to your room and nearly went up to help you, but he heard George call his name. Dean ventured back into George’s room and heeded his beckoning hand.

“You hungry? I can scramble some eggs or something before I hit the store. I think I saw two more left in the carton,” Dean said. George shook his head.

“Come ‘ere a sec.”

Dean took the hint and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I just wanna thank you for everything you did yesterday. Everything you’re still doing for us,” George said. He looked exhausted, but whatever he wanted to say was important enough to fight off sleep. He clasped a hand on Dean’s arm.

“You don’t have to,” Dean replied.

George huffed. A smile made his eyes gleam brighter.

“I knew you were a special one, Dean Winchester. Knew it the night I met ya, on your very first date with her.”

Dean blinked, but his pause drifted into a reserved smile.

“How’s that?” he asked.

“Well, I’ll be honest. When I heard that black Chevy rumble like hell’s wheels onto the driveway, I thought I might have to worry about you,” George chuckled.

Dean’s lips quirked.

“But no, it wasn’t that. It wasn’t the pretty flowers, or our mutual love of killer sharks,” George quipped, making Dean’s smile more genuine. “It isn’t your job either, or the fact that you saved her. I just believe that you can see a man’s mettle in his eyes…and I saw it in you when I shook your hand that night.”

Dean took that in for a moment. His hand flexed over his knee. Then he met George’s gaze, though he didn’t know what to say. Sometimes though, honestly was the best bet.

“I’m sorry for what you’re going through,” he said at last. “I can’t imagine…”

George let out a breath through his nose. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

He pointed to a picture frame on his bedside. It was of him and his wife, Sophie, when they were around your age and Dean’s. The couple were sitting on a pier that hung over the edge of the lake in their hometown.

She held him from behind, with her arms wrapped around his neck. Her long hair was being carried by the wind, getting swept into George’s eyes. He was smiling too hard to care.

“I’m ready to smile like that again,” he said. He had tears in his eyes, but he was already lighter at the thought. “I know it’s selfish…but I think I’ve missed her long enough.”

Dean paused. Then he cleared his throat past a small well of something he couldn’t name. He wondered if his dad ever had thoughts like that.

“Well, I’ll let you get your rest,” he said. “I’ll be back.”

George nodded and gave Dean’s arm a squeeze. “All right. Drive safe. Don’t hit any goddamn trees.”

He shot Dean a knowing wink, and it almost had the younger man laughing. George’s sense of humor was something else.

Dean then left George to rest. He made sure he had his wallet, keys, and your grocery list before he left your house and went back to the car. He checked his phone and saw a missed call…from Cas.

Dean was reminded again about Azazel, the kingpin who might’ve ordered a hit on his family. Along with the recent murders and arsons, and the connection from one of the victims to your company, Savage & Co.

Dean returned the call as he climbed into the Impala.

“Dean. Everything all right?” Cas asked. “Sam filled me in about the accident.”

“Yeah, everyone’s okay…well, not really. I’ll explain later,” Dean replied. “Listen, about what we talked about at the bar.”

“Yes.” Cas said gravely. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go to your father about this yet.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” Dean sighed. “My girl just got some real bad news. I know you gotta keep digging into Savage & Co., but can you keep her out of it?”

“Is she all right?”

“Yeah, more or less…it’s her grandfather.”

“Ah, I see,” Cas said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks, man. I’d rather her just focus on what she needs to do right now, you know?”

“I get it. And believe me, we’re keeping the investigation of Nick Savage quiet for now,” Cas said. “But if we find something, or worse, if I can’t…I’ll likely need to question her. She works directly with Savage, and from what I can tell, she’s instrumental in bringing in and maintaining several of his major accounts.”

Dean stopped at a red light and took a moment to rub a hand over his tired face, rubbing his eyes. “You don’t really think she’s got any idea of what that asshole’s into.”

“I’m not saying she does. But in working so closely with him, perhaps she’s noticed things about her boss, and the company. Things she’s kept to herself, out of self-preservation.”

Dean frowned. He didn’t want to think about shit like that. It made his stomach churn at the thought of you working for someone who might be doing business with a crime lord, let alone Azazel.

“Well, when that day comes, give me a heads up, okay?”

“Will do.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

Dean offered to take another day off to help you, but you wouldn’t let him. He needed to go back to work, and you were able to arrange working from home for the next few weeks.

Even Nick couldn’t refuse to accommodate you in a situation like this. He knew very well that if he pushed you too hard, you’d go directly to HR.

So he backed off, and told you to take as much time at home as you needed. It allowed you to put him, and that afternoon in his office, away from your mind to focus on taking care of your grandfather.

Though you called your best friend the day you got home from the hospital, Andréa didn’t come by your house to see you and George until the end of the week. She cited mounting projects at work and some kind of tiff with her cousin Meg, but it all sounded like excuses to you.

However, she was gracious enough to bring dinner for the three of you on a Friday night. She cut up with George like normal, and even got him laughing, until a coughing fit forced him to stop. It also took most of the joy out of the rest of the evening.

While George went up to his room to rest, Andréa later joined you in the kitchen. You were washing the dishes, trying to focus on what you were doing. But your mind was buzzing continuously with future tasks and worries. Always, tasks and worries.

“How are you holding up?” Andréa asked. She rubbed your back, and you gave her a slight smile.

“All I can do is make him comfortable, for as long as possible,” you replied. There were tears in your friend’s eyes, but she dabbed them away with the back of her hand.

“What do you need? Anything, you just tell me,” she said.

It was a little easier for you to contemplate leaning on Andréa. You had been friends with her for years, and she was like another daughter to George.

On the other hand, asking Dean for help always made you hesitate. What you two had was still so new. You worried that this was too much for your relationship, too fast.

“Well,” you sighed as you wiped your hands dry on a kitchen towel. You didn’t exactly want to talk about it, but there were things you had to start planning, even if you didn’t know the exact timeframe.

However, as soon as you opened your mouth to reply, Andréa’s cell phone rang. She held up a finger to you and checked it. To your surprise, she actually answered it.

“Hey, babe,” she replied with a smile. You heard Benny’s deep voice on the line, asking a question. “Yeah, I’m still here. I’m probably leaving soon though.”

She continued her conversation for a few more minutes, but you didn’t hear anything after that. A tension headache was sharp behind your eyes, while anger (yes, anger) rolled hot under your skin. Your lips pursed. You busied yourself with straightening up the kitchen until she continued her call for another few minutes.

“Sorry about that,” she said, finally turning her attention back to you. “So what do you need?”

You put away the last dry dish and turned to her coolly.

“Nothing.”

Andréa frowned. She knew there was something off with you, but her furrowed brows betrayed her confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” you repeated. “Don’t you need to head out, anyway?”

“No, I was just…what’s up with you?” she asked.

“What’s up with me is my grandfather’s dying!” you snapped. You left her in the kitchen, precisely so that she’d follow you out. You grabbed her purse for her and went to the front door, where you stepped out.

Andréa was dismayed and confused as she followed you out onto the porch. She raised her brows at you when you shut the door and crossed your arms at her.

“I know you, and this isn’t just about that. What’s the problem?” she asked.

“You can’t seem to detach from your boyfriend for more than five minutes to just be my friend. That’s the problem,” you replied. “But why should I be surprised? Like always, you’re too wrapped up in yourself to consider anyone else.”

Her brows knitted together; she looked hurt by your words, but also defensive.

“How can you say that when you’ve been exactly the same way?” she accused. “Since you met Dean, I’d be lucky to see you once a week—”

“I call you every week,” you began, counting the list with your fingers. “You’re always busy, but you never give me a day that works for you. And when we do make plans, you usually cancel. Why? Because you’re going sailing with Benny. You’re going to a restaurant, hours away, just to try the new sushi bar beer garden, or whatever the hell. Or you’re going on an impromptu road trip, or you’re planning a summer trip to Greece. Give me fucking break, Dre.”

By now she was frowning angrily, her arms crossed. “You’re mad at me because I have a life?”

“No. I’m happy for you that you found someone. I really am,” you said. “But we clearly live in two different versions of reality. I just don’t have the time or the energy to entertain yours.”

You knew you were being too harsh. You felt incredible guilt as soon as it all left your mouth…but part of you also felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. The problem was, you still felt heavy. Just in a different way.

Both of you were crying when Andréa left your house.

All too soon, a week became a month. In that time, Dean called you every day to check on you. He spent most of his evenings with you and George when he wasn’t on shift. And when he was, sometimes Meg would drop in.

She understood your argument with Andréa, and she respected you for taking a stand when you needed to. She even confided you that she’d had similar frustrations with her cousin lately.

But Meg wasn’t your only visitor. Ellen had come a few times to bring you lunch and dinner, even breakfast, though you hadn’t asked her to. You realized then how close Dean must be to his friends at the firehouse, along with the Harvelles; Ellen also refused to take any money from you for the food.

By the end of the month, George mainly spent his days sleeping. Pain medication made his days nearly painless, but not without struggle. You were doing your best to care for him while continuing to work full-time from home. You were also exhausted, though you refused to admit it.

Today was a better day, however, because George was awake. He was also more aware of his surroundings than usual.

He stopped you from adjusting his pillow so you would sit down on the edge of his bed. He took your hand in his, brushing a thumb over the back of it.

“I’m okay with this, you know,” he said. You pursed your lips, but he stopped you from whatever you were going to say. “I don’t want to leave you. You know that…but I’m so damn proud of you. Your Gram was, and still is…”

Your lower lip wobbled as you tried and failed to keep your tears at bay. They stung in your eyes and slipped past your defenses, down your face.

“The house is yours. But if that’s too hard for you, just sell it,” he said, heaving a deep breath. “It’s just the bones. You’re the heart. And you always have been.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but not a sound would come out. You held his hand with both of yours and stared down at them. Until his voice once again commanded your attention.

“I always thought…moving to the city ruined my daughter. That we should’ve stayed in Lebanon. That maybe I gave her too much freedom, and I failed her somehow along the way,” George said. His eyes were heavy with old heartache. And yet, they soon began to lighten.

“But the day we lost a daughter, we gained one too,” he said. Then, he chuckled a little. “And I know I never failed with you, sweetheart.”

That proved to be too much for you. He pulled you into his arms like you were still a child, and he held you for a long time while you cried yourself out.

Though he eventually spotted Dean hesitating in the doorway. He’d probably let himself in with the spare key you’d given him.

George raised a hand from your back and silently beckoned Dean inside his room. He was getting tired, drifting off thanks to the morphine.

“Hey, lookie there. The boyfriend’s here,” George whispered with a bit of cheek. You sucked in a breath and raised your head, wiping at your eyes before you turned around. Dean met you with an attempt at a smile and a gentle hand on your back.

“Just got out of work?” you asked. He’d been on a 24-hour shift, and you’d missed him. You stood and stepped into his welcoming embrace. He dropped a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah. I’ve got the next couple of days off,” Dean said. He greeted George next and asked him if he needed anything.

“Just some water,” the older man replied.

“I’ll get it,” you said with a sniff. “Need to start dinner too.”

“I already brought some food. You like Italian, right?” Dean said, with a subtle smile. It earned your sigh and a grateful smile. He knew very well that it was now one of your favorites. Italian meatballs always reminded you both of your first date.

“Thank you,” you said, grasping his hand. He squeezed yours with a nod, before he let you go.

When you were out of earshot, George cleared his throat past a wet cough. Dean reached over and grabbed him a tissue. George took it with a nod. Again, he encouraged Dean to come closer.

“I’m not worried,” George said, between deep breaths. “You know why?”

Dean just stared back for a moment. He genuinely had no idea what the man might say next.

“Tell me,” he said.

“My granddaughter’s strong. Always has been, because she had to be,” said George. “But you’re gonna be there when she’s not.”

Dean considered the weight of that charge. The anxiety in his chest felt familiar; like the day he got his badge at the Fire Academy, knowing then the responsibility he held in his hands.

That’s a lot to put on just three months of knowing this girl, came a more selfish thought. It sounded a lot like the guy he used to be, not too long before he met you.

But when Dean thought about you, and what you’d begun to mean to him…

He realized that he only had one answer.

“Yes, sir. I am,” said Dean.

George gave a tired smile. “Good man.”

And that night, an agreement was made.

In the morning, your grandfather was gone.

Dean held you through what he thought was the worst of your heartbreak. But after that dour morning, it was like a switch flipped inside you.

In the days after George’s death, your shutters came up. You threw yourself into checklists and task after task—in funeral arrangements and planning and contacting distant relatives and friends.

This was your failsafe. Your version of “autopilot.” And these things needed to get done, after all.

But Dean worried when he no longer saw the softer side of you. Like your heart had been wrung dry.

He inevitably had to go back to work, but in between the demanding hours of his schedule, he tried to get you to slow down. He saw the warning signs of you running yourself into the ground. He just didn’t know how to help you land.

So Dean picked up slack where he saw it, often without you asking him to. He began fixing the house, one section at a time. He enlisted Benny’s help, since he actually had a small construction business. Dean even paid for the materials himself without you knowing.

And one sunny afternoon, he took a break from repaving part of the cracked and uneven driveway to grab a beer inside. You were sitting at the kitchen table with stacks of papers all around you, your cellphone on speaker as some kind of elevator music continued to ring on a loop.

“Can you believe I’ve been on hold with the funeral director for 20 minutes?” you told him in irritation. But you didn’t truly take sight of him until he came back from the kitchen.

He wore a familiar ensemble of jeans and black undershirt with a plaid shirt, rolled up to his elbows. He was covered in a fine layer of sweat, and his hands were dusty and stained from his work on the driveway. Dean looked tired, and that made you feel guilty.

Meanwhile, he frowned and popped open a beer. “You want one of these? Looks like you could use one.”

You shook your head. With a sigh, you hung up the phone. You’d try calling again later. Instead, you focused on the next item of your checklist for today.

“Food. Because we’re gonna need to eat after the service,” you inclined your head. “Okay, still need to come up with a list of caterers, because I don’t think I can cook for that many people.”

Dean nodded at that. “Let me talk to Ellen. She’ll give you a good price, and her food is good.”

You looked up from your notepad and considered him thoughtfully. You wouldn’t have thought to cater from a bar, but he was right. Ellen had great food at the Roadhouse.

“Okay, I’ll call her,” you said.

“No, I’ll call her,” Dean insisted. He set down the beer on the table and leaned his palms flat on its surface. “Sweetheart, I told you I’d help you with all this. You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

“Dean, you’ve done enough,” you replied. Your brows drew together stubbornly. “You’re paving my driveway right now, for God’s sake! This is my responsibility, not yours.”

Dean frowned, making you sigh. You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms.

“Look, we’ve only been dating for three months,” you said. And in your mind, a good chunk of that time had been spent in the worst hell of your life. “This right here? It’s a lot. I’m not expecting you to deal with all this…”

You bit your lip, and your gaze fell away from his as your insecurities took hold. The thoughts that had been plaguing you every night since this all began, on the night of the car accident.

“And…if you’d rather take a break from us for a while, I’d understand,” you said.

Your voice was more collected than you felt. But that didn’t make it any easier when Dean stared back at you, mostly incredulous. You even thought you saw a thread of hurt there, and it made your heartache worsen.

Dean came around to your side of the table. He dragged a chair back and sunk into it, facing you directly.

“You think that’s the kind of guy I am?” he asked.

You immediately shook your head. You weren’t trying to upset him, or imply that he wasn’t reliable, or trustworthy, or whatever was running through his head. You were just trying to be realistic.

You’re so pragmatic it hurts, as Andréa had often told you.

“Dean, it’s not that…” you began, a bit helplessly. “I just—”

“Just, nothin’.” His chair scraped toward you as he reached out for your hand. He made sure you looked him in the eyes when he said this next part.

“I’m not leaving you with this.”

Your gaze met his, though you desperately tried to keep your heart from rising into your throat.

“I’m not leaving you,” Dean said. His tone, his eyes, his hold on your hand was firm.

For a moment, you stared at him, unblinking, even as tears swam in your eyes.

He’s not leaving you.

Not like everyone else in your life.

You were grateful. Too grateful, even, for words.

When you finally broke down into tears, Dean realized what an idiot he’d been. Your wall of stoicism had been just that—a flimsy wall. Now it was shattered, and so were you.

It scared him just how much, as he gathered you onto his lap and into his arms. You didn’t seem to care that he was dirty and covered with sweat. You clung to him strong, and he held you back just as tightly.

“No matter what I did, it wasn’t enough,” you confessed. “You save people all the time. I couldn’t save anyone in my life.”

Dean frowned. He cupped the back of your head, and he felt your tears sliding down his neck. His voice was thick with emotion when he was able to reply.

“Oh, baby. It’s not your fault.”

“I can’t…I can’t do anything. Anything that matters.” Your voice was a broken whisper. It damn near broke his heart.

“Now you know that’s not true,” he said. “I’m not gonna let you lie to yourself like that.”

You trembled and heaved with sobs, and he continued to hold you.

Just be there, Sam had told him, when Dean had called him from the hospital. Sam reminded him again last week, when George finally passed.

Is that all I’m supposed to do? Dean thought. His brows furrowed, but he tried to hide his frustration.

He was used to people depending on him. He led a team. Before then, he’d looked out for Sam all his life. Dean had never had to help someone get through this kind of grief though. He just wanted to help you, in whatever way he could.

Because he was worrying, just like you. That whatever he did, it wouldn’t be enough.

But he couldn’t leave you.

I can’t, and I won’t, he thought. So he took a breath, and he said the first true thing that came to mind.

“You’re the strongest woman I know, you know that?” Dean said. He spoke low and steady, but with the conviction he felt. “And that’s a tall order, considering some of the badass ladies I’ve got in my life.”

A smile tugged at his lips when he considered people like Ellen and Jo, Jody and Donna. He might’ve lost his mom, but he and Sam hadn’t lacked when it came to influential women in their lives.

“But I saw it the day we met. I see it every time we’re together,” he continued. “You work hard as hell. You take care of everyone around you…”

You were still quiet, trying to stifle your crying.

Dean let out a breath. “Man, if you only knew how much you’ve been helping me. Keeping my damn feet on the ground with this whole…arsonist mess my dad’s been investigating. Digging up the past, my mom, the whole damn thing.”

With a sniffle, you uncurled from him, just enough to reveal your face. Your grip on his shirt loosened, your palm flattening on his chest. He held your hand there and turned his lips to your forehead. He sensed that you were calming down. That you were listening.

“That matters to me,” he told you.

You nodded and tightened your hand on his. “Me too.”

Your voice was still shaky, but it sounded a little stronger.

“See? You might as well face it.” Dean grinned. “You’re a badass chick with a big heart.”

You snorted in response. Your lips even twitched at a smile. He spied it when he looked down at you. And you rested easier against him as your tears subsided.

“Thank you,” you whispered. He dried your cheek with a brush of his hand.

“For what?” he asked.

“For staying.”

AN: So first off, I'm sorry for the gritty "reality" of this one. It's just where the story took me, though it serves a purpose narratively and for both the reader and Dean's character development.

But also, I think this has just been on my mind, since both my grandmother and great uncle (brother and sister) died within a year of one another due to different forms of cancer. My great uncle passed in May of this year, and my grandmother two years this past October.

Again, I'm sorry if this one was too heavy, but art does imitate life and this was probably my brain trying to express those emotions I couldn't fully make sense of at the time. George will be missed, but will still be felt in the rest of this story, as I'm sure any of you who've lost close family members will understand. 💙

Next Time:

The identity of Azazel will finally be revealed in Part 12. But first...

You nodded. “By the way, it was nice of Sam and Eileen to come. And Meg and Cas.”

Dean smiled.

“They can be your people too,” he said. “If you want ‘em to be.”

You couldn’t help it. Your tears brewed and bubbled over. And you moved slowly across the couch to twine your arms around his neck. Dean’s lips tugged at a smile, and he welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

Both of you were still wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing all day; you in your black dress and Dean in his slacks and white buttoned-down shirt, though by now without the jacket, and the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You were infinitely exhausted. But one thing had become clear to you over the past few weeks.

“Thank you. Thank you for today, and for every day since we met,” you said shakily.

Keep Reading: PART 12

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#genuinely one of the loveliest reviews I've ever recieved 💞💞#reader appreciation #lovely mutuals #smoke eater feedback

563 notes · View notes