#(it didn’t need to i’m just opinionated)

[harunayuuka2060]

Malleus: ...

MC: *is feeling hopeless after their extensive research, as most of the results pointed to the impossibility of returning to their world*

Malleus: Child of man.

MC: Yes...

Malleus: Don’t give up yet. These are ancient records, and they shouldn’t be enough to determine the outcome.

MC: ...

MC: There’s a lot going on in my head right now. It might sound funny, but I’m already thinking about Plan B and Plan C in case I end up permanently stuck here.

MC: I mean, it’s not like I have much to lose... Haha...

Malleus: ...

Malleus: Still, I’m telling you not to give up. Who knows? The answer might reveal itself when the right opportunity comes along.

MC: ...

MC: *smiles* Wow, your horn got wrecked, and suddenly you’ve become so wise.

Malleus: Is that how you normally show appreciation for advice?

MC: I have a broken sense of humor—just deal with it.

Malleus: *pouts*

MC: *laughs*

Silver and Sebek: Prefect!

MC: Eh? Oh! Hey!

Sebek: Are you running an errand, human?

MC: *sigh* Yeah.

Silver: We're here to help.

MC: Huh? Really? But why?

Sebek: We noticed that Grim attended class alone, so we figured you might need a little assistance! Not that Grim has ever been much help to you, anyway!

MC: Hey, don't diss Grim.

Sebek: Hmph!

Silver: Prefect, are there any places you still need to go?

MC: Yup. Crowley wants me to pick up his order from the newly opened pastry shop.

Silver: I see. Let's go.

Sebek: And while we’re at it, you should get some for yourself too!

Silver: It'll be our treat.

MC: ...Okay. *grins* I'll order some for Grim too, okay?

MC, Silver, and Sebek: ...

*They stumbled upon a group of Draconia enthusiasts discussing the dream world, and it just so happened that they were talking about MC. The three couldn’t help but eavesdrop.*

"They said that person contributed a lot to saving everyone."

"Nah, I doubt that. I’m sure all they did was tag along."

"That’s right, that’s right! Of course, Night Raven College wouldn’t want them to feel left out, even if they didn’t do anything!"

Sebek: These humans— *about to confront the group*

MC: *pulls him back*

Sebek: What are you—

MC: Let's not waste our time here.

Sebek: But— *then noticed their expression*

MC: ...

Sebek: ...

Sebek: *groans in frustration* Fine.

Silver: ...

Silver: Prefect, are you alright?

MC: Yes. It's their opinion. I can't do anything about it.

Silver and Sebek: ...

[chronic-conjuring]

So I was just gunna keep my ranting in the tags but I actually think this is an important thing to say because I needed to hear it before I learned it the hard way.

This is only applicable to some situations and to ignore that can be very damaging. Not everyone is granted the kindness of being allowed to safely ask for what they want or need, and that it’s very often used in abusive relationships as leverage and for psychological abuse.

TW: Vague Descriptions of Psychological Abuse of a Romantic Partner

This is just to give examples and discuss how this was used against me. No graphic descriptions are included, but I hope it might help someone.

I spent a significant amount of time in two relationships that it was absolutely NOT safe for me to ask for what I wanted despite being consistently encouraged and asked to. I was told it was a safe place to do so and I believed them. Unfortunately it usually led to me being gaslit and manipulated, leaving me questioning my reality, and I believe that was the intended effect. I have yet to overcome it after being out of that place for almost a year as I’m writing this.

Oftentimes I’d ask for what I wanted or even needed from my partners and then I’d get deprived of those things whenever I upset them. Usually it felt like they used what little openness I could give about my wants and needs to punish me, playing cruel games where I’d be made to think I’d be prioritized for once. Only to then be overlooked in favor of someone else before I ever got the chance to even feel like a priority, let alone be treated like it. I’d have things I wanted promised to me, and then watched as they were freely given to my other partner while I was forgotten about, and then told I was being treated fairly because they also felt overlooked and unwanted, somehow. That they needed whatever they were getting too. It was often said to me like I was receiving the exact same treatment when I was very obviously not.

In essence, in my personal opinion, I was being trained to not ask for things, to become complacent in my own neglect and believe it was all my fault because I didn’t do enough to provide for their wants. I was made to feel like my anguish was a self inflicted burden, brought on by my own damaging behavior towards them despite doing everything I knew how to not do that. It was often pinned on my actually healthy relationship, using my girlfriend as a scapegoat for their inappropriate and deceitful behavior with each other and with me.

This was insanely damaging to me, especially since I have been struggling to even say what I want let alone ask for it for a long time. Even as I have the safest people to ask for things from now, I still struggle with it. Sometimes to the point of panic or genuine distress. My brain automatically wonders when I’ll have whatever I’ve asked for arbitrarily taken away for some perceived slight, and leaves me dealing with the anxiety that comes from waiting for the other shoe to drop. Despite the fact that the people I ask for things from now have literally never done anything close to that and actually have a track record of consistently giving me those things if possible after I state the initial want.

TL/DR: Bottom line is this- using the phrase “the worst thing they can do is say no” only applies when anything else they would try to do doesn’t matter or negatively affect you in any significant way. It’s like saying “what are they gunna do? Fire me?” After putting in your two weeks notice at a shit job. There are many situations where asking for things can be dangerous, and many of us become scared of doing so because it was dangerous at some point in our lives. Often it starts when you’re still a kid and are subject to your parent’s whims.

Just something to think about

not very good at asking for things that I want

[holylulusworld]

The (Ex) Files

Summary: Bucky’s mother is the worst.

Pairing: AU!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Warnings: angst, awful mother-in-law, arguments, fluff, protective Bucky

A/N: This was an alternative idea for my series: Monster-in-law. I decided to turn it into a drabble.

Another family gathering—another awful get-together.

You tried to warm up to your mother-in-law; you really tried. The problem is that she doesn’t want to get to know you better or include you in your husband’s family.

She’s still hung up on one of Bucky’s ex-girlfriends. They broke up halfway through college. It’s been years. Still, his mother invites Dot to every family gathering—even Christmas.

She calls her daughter, which is, in your opinion, disrespectful towards your husband and his sister Rebbeca. Her children. You know families don’t have to be related by blood. Some of the happiest people you know were adopted.

It doesn’t irk you that Winnifred is still close to Bucky’s ex-girlfriend. She can befriend anyone she wants to. This is none of your business. But she forces you to face Dot, a woman your husband slept with, every time you visit his family.

In the beginning, you thought Winnifred only needed to warm up to you. You were the new woman in her son’s life—someone he didn’t even introduce to his family before proposing to you.

Bucky tried to explain to her that it was in the heat of the moment and that he had intended to introduce you to her and the rest of his family first.

Your wedding day was not as happy as expected either. Bucky was the perfect groom, the cake was delicious, and the music was too. Sadly, your mother-in-law decided to use her plus one to not bring her husband but Dot.

That was not the first time or the last time she brought you to tears. Many family events came and went, only for you to be left outside. Even though, Rebecca, George, and Bucky tried their best to make you feel welcome.

You liked Bucky’s sister from the beginning, and his father is a strict but kind man. If only his mother had tried to warm up to you. At least a little bit.

For months, you tried to invite her for lunch, a spa day, or just a slice of cake at your favorite café. Every single time, she turned you down, pretending to be busy with something more important.

Most of the time she said no to you only to spend the day with Dot. You heard so through the grapevine, from Rebecca or some mutual friends.

They have a special connection, and you don’t mind. Still, it stings every time you see Winnifred with Dot. She treats her like the daughter-in-law she never had. Her words, not yours.

Bucky told his mother a long time ago, even before you came into the picture, that he doesn’t feel comfortable having his ex-girlfriend around.

He’s not a cruel man. Bucky told his mother that she was free to be friends with Dot but to not force him to see her every time he wanted to visit his parents.

Winnifred ignored his wishes. Just like she ignored you when you called her out. All you got was a shrug, and that you are free to leave if you cannot be around her daughter.

“Just a few more hours,” Bucky whispers in your ear as your eyes drift toward his mother and her chosen daughter once again. “I know, I’m as pissed as you are. I told her to not invite Dot today.”

“She’ll never like me, Buck,” you sniff and look away. You made peace with Winnifred’s indifference when it came to you and your marriage with her son. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Nothing,” he hastily says. “You were an angel as always. From the beginning, it was you trying to have a relationship with my mother. If she doesn’t want to get to know my wife well, then she won’t…” He clears his throat. “We will be on our way back home in no time.”

You rest your head against his shoulder and sigh. “I’d die for some greasy food. Ice cream too, maybe with some beetroot.”

Bucky chuckles. “I’ll buy you all the greasy food. Maybe I can eat it off your chest.”

“Buck,” you tut. “We won’t get naughty at your parents’ house. Your mother already hates me, and I don’t want to anger her even more.”

Your husband’s features sadden. He had hoped that his mother would change her behavior. “Y/N, this is not, and never was, your fault.”

“How about I go to the bathroom, and you get me some food? We meet halfway to at least feast on the food Dottie ordered,” you giggle before kissing your husband’s cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

You turn to leave, earning a slap to your ass from your husband. “Hey, watch it, Mr. Barnes!” You point your finger at him.

“I could come with you,” he purrs. “You know, to help you pee.”

On your way back from the bathroom, you slip inside the kitchen to get a glass of water. You stop in your tracks, hearing your mother-in-law and Dot talk low about you.

“Yeah, she’s shamelessly walking around in a too-tight dress,” Dot giggles as Winnifred nags about your outfit, your make-up, and the food you brought to the barbecue. “She’ll never learn.”

You try to ignore their chatter and move past the kitchen to get back to your husband. Right when you are about to walk away, Winnifred calls your name.

“You know, sneaking around someone else’s house to spy on them is impolite,” she snaps at you, eying you up and down. “If you are looking for more food, I suggest salad.” She points at your middle. “You know, you got a little pudgy there.”

You’re taken aback. Winnifred isn’t your biggest fan, but she never openly attacked you.

“Did you eat out of frustration because you’ll never be the daughter-in-law I wanted?” She continues, unaware Bucky is standing right behind her. He came to look for you and, well, get naughty in the bathroom, or maybe his old room.

“No, you and Dot are not worth it.” You reply, a smirk tugging at your lips. “I got a little pudgy because your son and I are expecting our first child.”

You hold out your hand for Bucky to take it. “The reason Bucky didn’t want Dot here today was to announce my pregnancy.”

“And once again, you failed me and my wife,” Bucky adds. He squares his jaw while glaring at his mother. “Well, as Y/N isn’t the daughter-in-law you want, you won’t be missing out when you do not get to know your grandchild.”

“What…I?” She gasps, watching Bucky guide you out of the kitchen to bring you home. He’ll invite his father and Rebecca to celebrate your pregnancy later, excluding his mother for the first time in his life.

Tags in reblog

[nicksturniolokin]

breaking my silence.

I am TIRED of hearing ppl say that the triplets are lazy. That’s fucking stupid of yall to say, they are trying so hard. Not to mention they have tour, which they mentioned was more expensive, there is more to do and it’s farther away then The lets trip tour and versus tour. Ppl are also pissed they aren’t going over seas. It’s definitely not their fault. Ik this isn’t gonna be seen by many others but I’m still stating my opinion. I feel so bad for them, yall need to cut them some slack. The video that was posted on a Saturday wasn’t bc they were lazy and just didn’t want to post, they have a life outside of posting and everyone needs to understand that, I get it, some people weren’t happy but it needs to be let go of. Also, not to mention how DISGUSTING people are?? I came on tumblr bc of my mate, turns out this is a disgusting place where ppl sexualize them. Calling them sluts and making sexual fanfics is not something they are comfortable with. They mentioned it in so many videos. Nick had to censor his pants in one video, isn’t that a clear sign they know ppl think that way about them? It’s just gross **imo**. It honestly scares me knowing ppl who sexualize them are going on tour, i would be grossed out too if I were them. Even though I am hypersexual, I wouldnt publicly announce that I sexualized them if I did. I think it’s just embarrassing for the ppl who do that. They don’t have a chance with them no matter what. ((I got a hate kink so keep reblogging babes))

[luvztodd]

I’m Not Going Away

Grieving! Jason Todd x Hallucination Fem! Reader

In which you’re haunting more than just his thoughts.

“Life without you has no goddamn meaning.”

♫ IFHY - Tyler, The Creator

tw: mentions of death, gore kinda?, slight substance abuse

part one. part two.

dividers courtesy of @cafekitsune

The train ride back into the city always felt longer than it really took. Jason held a small bag of his groceries for the week in one of his hands, his back leaned against the plastic train seat. He had the whole cart to himself, surprisingly. It was probably just because he scared everyone else off. He wondered if it was because of his scruff. ‘Did he need to shave?’ He thought.

He glanced to the side of him, where your figure sat. Since his match last week, he hadn’t been able to stop his hallucinations of you. Usually they were every few weeks, now it’s everyday, like you’re constantly by his side.

Even worse, you were talking to him now.

“You should shave.” You said flatly. His mind couldn’t remember what you really used to sound like, too many years of not hearing it caused your voice to be flat, monotone. Unlike you.

“You’re not even really here. I’m going fucking crazy and shaving is least of my priorities.” Jason sighed, shutting his eyes.

“You’re the one that can’t let me go. I might as well offer my opinions since i’m here.” You replied your cold grey eyes flitting over to look at him.

“You’re not real. Just…go away, please.” Jason muttered his hand clenching around the plastic handle of his grocery bag.

“You don’t really want me to go away.” Your head tilted towards him, he opened his eyes to look over at you. “I’m the most interesting thing about you.” You answered blankly, blinking at him, your lips quirking up into an eerie smile that felt nothing like the ones he remembered.

“What…?” He answered, sitting up a little straighter.

“You heard me.” You blinked at him slowly before you turned back to face the windows of the train, sitting forward, hands clasped in your lap as you watched the buildings pass you by.

Jason swallowed harshly, shutting his eyes once more. He was going fucking crazy. His hallucination was talking to him, sassing him. He couldn’t believe it. He loves you, he does, but he wished you would stop plaguing his life like this. Especially because he can’t even conjure up an accurate depiction of you, you would never smile like that, you would never look at him so coldly, you would have never been so devoid of life.

He was thankful when he opened his eyes again and your figure was gone. He let out a sigh of relief as the train came to a stop. He stood up and scurried out, wanting to get home as soon as possible and drown his thoughts in whatever he could. But of course, you never stayed gone for long.

“Why didn’t you stay a vigilante? Like you promised.” You popped up again, walking alongside him, your hair half up-half-down while two small pigtails sat on top of your head. Your hair framing your face just like how he remembered. Your heart necklace was even clasped around your neck. At least his hallucinations were more accurate.

“Because i didn’t want to…” He trailed off, realizing he was responding to his own hallucination in public.

“End up like me?” You sharply replied, keeping up with his fast steps.

“No…” Jason hesitantly responded not even sure of himself.

“Liar.” Your flat voice answered him coldly and sharply.

“I’m not lying.” Jason insisted as he walked faster.

“You are too. You’re too much of a coward, that’s why you quit being Robin, that’s why you’re getting your ass kicked for a living, that’s why you stopped being my best friend!“ You yelled, stopping infront of him.

“Shut the fuck up! Please!” Jason tugged on his hair with his free hand. The old ladies who were walking by him raised their eyebrows in shock, one of them clutching her purse a little tighter. He offered an awkward, sheepish smile before hurrying back to his apartment. He looked over to his side and you were gone again.

When he got home he quickly locked the door behind him, tossed his grocery bag into his bare fridge, not even bothering to unpack it as he rushed off to his medicine cabinet. He hadn’t been diagnosed with anything that could explain why he keeps seeing you, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t gonna find something to make you go away. He never thought he’d say that but he couldn’t take this anymore. He could handle thinking of you and reading your diaries, but seeing you? Hearing you?

That was too much for him.

“You’re not gonna find anything. You should just give up.” Your voice rung out in his bathroom, you were sitting on his white countertop, picking the dark red polish off of your pinky nail.

Jason was starting to really freak the fuck out, each time he saw you, you were just getting more and more accurate, this time you even had on the outfit that he last remembered seeing you in.

“Just give up,” You hummed in a sing-song tone. Your feet swung back and forth as you leaned back on your palms, your beat up Converse hitting his wooden cabinet but not making a sound.

Jason didn’t answer, he couldn’t answer. He just continued to rummage through his medicine cabinet, desperate to find something that will make you go away. He finally pulled out a faded orange bottle of little oval shaped pills. He hated taking pills, they reminded him too much of his shitty parents, but he wouldn’t abuse them like they used to, he’d just take a couple and go to sleep. Yeah, that’s it. Take a few, sleep you it off.

He snatched the bottle and walked off to his bedroom, he kicked his shoes off and quickly changed into sweatpants and a tattered white t-shirt. He laid down, the bottle of pills in his hand. He opened the lid, pushing down and twisting. He tossed the lid to the side and poured out three pills. He swallows them dry, set the bottle aside and laid back.

Jason crossed his arms over his chest and looked over to what was supposed to be the empty side of his bed but there you were, laying on your side, looking right back at him.

“It’s not your fault, y’know.” You said softly, your eyebrows furrowed and your lips pouty.

“I know…” Jason whispered inhaling a deep breath.

“Uh…what?” You raised an eyebrow at him, your face completely shifting to one of disbelief. “You actually don’t know, it’s totally your fault.”

“Huh?” Jason was taken aback, he knew that everything you were saying was just his subconscious self-projecting, but god why did it hurt to hear you say that?

“It’s…not my fault. I know that…even if it feels like it is…”

“Wrong.” You rolled your eyes at him, sitting up. “It’s your fault that i’m dead.”

“Shut up.” Jason snapped, clamping his eyes shut as he laid back. He was just gonna sleep this off, he was gonna sleep you off. He was too afraid to open his eyes again, his hands trembled and goosebumps ran up his spine and prickled the back of his neck.

When he finally built up the courage to open his eyes, you weren’t laying beside him. He let out a sigh of relief until his gaze drifted to the dark corner of his room. He gasped at the sight of you.

You were in your Batgirl costume, it was ripped and tattered, caked in blood and ash. Part of the skin on your face was missing, the tissue and muscle underneath exposed. Your hair was choppy and short the ends tinged with fire. Most of your left arm was gone, and your bones were peaking out of what was left of your legs.

That’s what you looked like when Bruce pulled you out of the warehouse.

“I’m not going away.” You said coldly, your voice raspier and colder than before.

“Please…” Jason begged, tears falling and coating his freckled cheeks. “I’m sorry…i’m so sorry…” Jason sobbed, shutting his eyes to avoid the gory sight of you. When he opened his eyes again you were sitting right infront of him but you weren’t scary this time, you were in what used to be your favorite pink pajama set, a smile on your face.

“It’s okay. I accept your apology.” You sweetly said. Exactly in the voice that he remembered. “Don’t cry Jay, i don’t wanna see you cry.” You leaned forward your hands ghosting over his cheeks to wipe them.

It was the strangest thing. Jason could’ve swore his tears really went away, he could’ve swore you really touched him, that he really felt your soft fingers against his cheeks. And for the rest of the night, Jason just gave into his hallucinations. He decided that maybe it wasn’t so bad to have his best friend around again. Deep down Jason knew that this was him just trying to comfort himself. To make himself feel okay, but he didn’t care. It felt real, it felt like it was you. He didn’t want to lose you again. He took back his own words, he didn’t want you to go away.

And you never did.

a/n: thank you guys so much for the likes on my first post. i've written before but never posted anything, so the love just warmed my little heart ♡. still trying to figure out how tf tumblr works. jason and reader are very much inspired by shauna and jackie. also if the formatting is off i did some of this on my phone and some of it on my computer sorry!

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

commitment ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Summary: lando and y/n's happily ever after didn't last.

⋆ ⌇ ln x reader ✦

⋆ ⌇ angst ✦

masterlist ☾☼

the silence in the apartment was a thick, suffocating blanket. lando swirled the remaining whisky in his glass, the ice clinking a lonely counterpoint to the deafening quiet. he hadn't touched the place since… since she left. since he left, really. he’d told himself it was for the best, a clean break, but the emptiness gnawed at him, a constant, dull ache in his chest. he closed his eyes, and the memories flooded back, unbidden, bittersweet.

y/n, laughing, her head thrown back as she chased their dog around the garden. the sun caught her hair, turning it into a halo of gold. he remembered the exact moment he’d fallen for her, watching her that day, so full of life and joy. he’d known, deep down, that she was the one.

he remembered their wedding, a small, intimate affair with only their closest friends and family.  the way she’d looked at him as she walked down the aisle, her eyes shining with love. the vows they’d exchanged, promises whispered from the heart. the sheer, unadulterated happiness he’d felt as he’d slipped the ring onto her finger.

their honeymoon in the maldives, lazy days spent swimming in turquoise waters, passionate nights under a canopy of stars. the way she’d fit perfectly in his arms, the feeling of coming home whenever he was with her.

he’d been so happy. they’d been so happy. so what had gone wrong?

it had started subtly, whispers about the future, the gentle prodding about children. he’d always envisioned a family, little versions of them running around their home, filling it with laughter and noise. y/n, though… she’d always been hesitant.

“kids are a huge commitment, lando,” she’d said one night, her voice soft but firm. “it’s not something i take lightly.”

“i know,” he’d replied, taking her hand. “but don’t you want that? don’t you want to experience the joy of parenthood?”

she’d hesitated, her gaze drifting away. “i… i don’t know, lando. i’m not sure it’s for me.”

the first crack in their perfect facade. he’d tried to understand, to be patient. he loved her, after all. surely, she’d come around. but as the years passed, the subtle unease grew into a gaping chasm.

“it’s not just about the physical aspect,” she’d explained one night, her voice trembling with emotion. “it’s… it’s a feeling. i don’t have it, lando. i don’t feel that maternal instinct that everyone talks about.”

“but what about me?” he’d asked, the hurt evident in his voice. “what about what i want?”

the fights had escalated, ugly, hurtful words thrown in the heat of the moment. accusations of selfishness, of immaturity, of not loving him enough. he’d wanted to be a father, and she… she just didn’t.

he remembered the day he’d signed the divorce papers.  his hand had shaken as he’d picked up the pen, the finality of the act hitting him like a punch to the gut. he’d looked at y/n, her face pale and drawn, her eyes filled with a sadness that mirrored his own. he’d wanted to rip up the papers, to tell her he didn’t care about kids, that he just wanted her. but he couldn’t. he knew it would only prolong the agony, a band-aid on a wound that needed to heal.

the divorce had been swift, clean. they’d released a joint statement, citing irreconcilable differences. the media, of course, hadn’t bought it. the speculation had been rampant, but they’d remained silent. until it leaked. the real reason. kids.

the backlash had been immediate, brutal. y/n had been vilified, branded selfish, cold, unnatural. the misogyny had been sickening. he’d watched in horror as the woman he loved was torn to shreds by public opinion. he’d tried to defend her privately, but it hadn’t been enough. the papparazzi followed her everything, calling her names, stalking her. his "fans had new accounts to hate on her, all because she didn't want kids.

he’d finally snapped, recording a video message, his voice filled with a raw emotion he could no longer contain.  “it’s her choice,” he’d said, his voice trembling with anger. “her body, her decision. my job is five seconds; hers is for the rest of her life. she's the one who has to take care of them all the time, because i'll be around the world doing my job. between her and me, she's sacrificing so much more than i am. so, shut the fuck up and stay away.”

he’d known it would be controversial, but he hadn’t cared. he’d do anything to protect her, even if it meant facing the wrath of his own fans. he still loved her, after all. he’d always love her. and sometimes, love meant letting go. even when it broke your heart into a million pieces.

༺☆༻

dee, this is for you. honestly, i wish i could write something longer, something better, but birds of a feather has really drained everything out of me. i hope you enjoy this! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @anamiad00msday ; @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @peterholland04 ; @justaf1girl ; @greantii ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry ; @hiireadstuff ; @opastries81

[loveln4]

Just thought I’d give my personal opinion I don’t really like oc fics, but write what you want to ofc. Just a small scenario idea would be maybe for valentines or a special day sending Lando flowers and his reaction. Hope your day is good I am pretty happy about the race results :)

thank you for this feedback!!

also super happy about the race results and sooooo happy for oscar!!

as you requested:

LANDO NORRIS x VALENTINES

synopsis: lando receiving flowers for valentine’s day from a ‘secret’ admirer.

Lando and y/n’s relationship was labeled ‘just friends’ by not only himself but his fans.

That wasn’t what their relationship started out as. They had started seeing each other after meeting on a lonely night out in Paris, but this slowly ended with a “let’s just be friends” from Lando one night after a date.

He had stopped in front of her house, turned to her and said, “I think we’d be really good friends.” It broke y/n’s heart just a little. But knowing what the media had said about Lando’s past relationship it was better for her. Better for them.

On the 14th day of February, Lando’s breakfast was interrupted by a knock at the door. Groaning, he gets up from his stool in his monochrome kitchen.

A bouquet of flowers rests upon his porch. It’s colorful, something he wouldn’t place in his own house. He picks it up with care and brings it inside, placing it upon his kitchen counter.

A note is etched in the middle of the bouquet. The most beautiful handwriting is left upon a gold embroidered piece of paper.

“Hi, happy valentines. Just thought you needed a little bit of colour in your home.

love, secret admirer.”

He knew who it was from just with a glance at the writing. Millions of thoughts were running through his mind. He knew y/n liked him, but that much to send flowers for valentines?

Guilt coursed through him, once again interrupted by another knock at the door. He was stuck in such a trance that five knocks later he had finally made his way to the door and opened it, revealing his valentine.

“Happy valentines, Lando.” Y/n said to him. It wasn’t with her usual happiness, it was more of a tone for being careful. Like tiptoeing around an uncomfortable subject.

“Thanks for the flowers.” He calmly said, forcing a smile on his face.

“Lan—

“I love you.”

Y/n sighed. Her tensed up muscles relaxed and Lando’s face shifted from a soft expression to a large grin.

“I love you, Y/n.” He whispered, “From the moment i saw you in that park in Paris, i knew i loved you and I’m sorry i pushed you away, I’m sorry didn’t let you in sooner, I’m sorry—

Y/n had pushed him into the house, her lips on his. The slam of the door breaking the kiss. Eyes latched onto each others, breaths mixing.

“Happy valentines.” She whispered into the kiss.

A/N: please leave requests!

[bettystonewell]

Two iced lattes later, and I’m done ❤️

Apparently, condoms are fragile little shits.

My mind went straight to Ross Geller for this one and his “they should put that on the box!” Could I find a gif? No, so you get Dean being proud of his swimmers 😂

“I’m sorry,” he says, seeming sheepish, and guilty. “I meant to say thank you. Just didn’t know any other way to say it.”

Dude! No! Don’t do that and then brush it off with such a lame ass statement. Friends don’t kiss friends on the lips (someone wise said that?)

And that's no more apparent than when Dean soon has to step out again, leading Lisa out of the room.

This whole scene annoyed me so much. I can only assume that the rules in the Stares are the same as here, and anyone stressing momma out has to leave! Girl should’ve got rid of Dean while he was playing silly buggers with Lisa, but I guess he made up for it when he ended up being supportive, however,

You meet him with a wobbly smile. “Honestly? I’m afraid. I know I have a lot of people who want to support me, and I’m grateful, but…I just have this terrible feeling that we’re going to end up alone, him and me.”

BEOKE MY HEART. Although, you don’t need a man girl. Her and Robbie could potentially be okay without Dean or anyone else, but thank god these two did in fact get their act together - five plus years too late…

You even bought a big dinosaur cake—also in a radioactive green color that you hadn’t been sure about, but your son talked you into.

It’s giving my separate vibes

“I think we should do this now,” she says. A hallmark Lisa-ism. She’s opinionated and strong-willed, something Dean’s always respected about her. Sometimes though, the timing is damn irritating. He doesn’t want to get into another argument with his girlfriend in public, especially not at his son’s birthday party.

I know you said I’d feel sorry for her, and I did at the end, but she kind of did this to herself. Why did she keep going back to him if she knew he mind was wanting someone else. You could argue she didn’t know, but come on…. I love how judgy I’m being even though I’d probably be Lisa in this exact scenario - “but I can fix him!”

I was going to ramble about the whole bike scenario, and how ridiculous Dean was being, I get it I do, I’ve just got sympathy for the single mama (being one myself)

His eyes sting just enough that he has to blink a bit harder, swallowing past a thick well of emotion in his throat. He presses another kiss to the top of Robbie’s head. Then, Dean meets Benny’s gaze.

There it is! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ I’m so happy that they finally figured it out. It would seem Benny already had deep down too, I’m just glad he was so nice about it.

You allow yourself to look at him. Really look at him.

My writing brain is seeing the repetitions and I love it!

Gosh dang Alex! This was a masterpiece! Please give us more if ever you feel inclined. I’d love to know they got to do the whole baby planing together a second time right, if it were to happen for them, but this was a pleasure on its own as is, too

IF I STAY - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

Summary: Your dream is to work with kids as an elementary school teacher. Dean is well on his way to becoming a firefighter, keeping things light and “strings unattached” as he goes. After a one-night stand you never saw coming, you and Dean are forced to deal with the consequences…and figure out if the connection between you is worth fighting for.

AN: Deep breaths Are you ready for a rollercoaster of emotions? 😘❤️

Song Inspo: “I Can’t Help Falling in Love” and “It’s Now or Never” by Elvis

Word Count: 13.1K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, pregnancy feels, hurt/comfort, fluff, time jumps and flashbacks, sexual tension, mutual pining, spice~, and an ending…

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Part 2: It’s Now or Never

At the doctor’s office, Dean goes in with you for the first trimester ultrasound. There you learn that you’re going to have a boy. Tears well up in your eyes and slip down your cheeks.

Dean wears a look of amazement as he sits on the edge of your bed. He takes up your hand and squeezes gently. He tries to be a strong support, even though he also tries to hide the fear that begins to churn in his gut.

For one of the first times in his life since Sam was born, he feels the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. In a good way. In a fucking scary way.

He looks at you and sees the wonder written across your face while you watch the tiny shape of your baby on the screen. His heartbeat thwaps fast and loud in the speakers.

Dean realizes something else then; the decision you're making is changing the course of your whole damn life…and it’s his fault.

With his weekly hookup rate, in the very back shelves of his mind he knew something like this could happen, even though he thought he'd been careful. (Apparently, condoms are fragile little shits.) But here, in this white wall-to-wall room that smells like hospital antiseptic, that thwap thwap thwap of a heartbeat reverberating in his ears, the reality of this is crashing hard on his shoulders and rattling down to the base of his spine.

Despite his earlier happiness, those thoughts stay with him when you two eventually get back into his car. You have the pictures of the sonogram in your hands. You smile down at them before you put them back in your purse for safekeeping.

However, you notice Dean’s sudden melancholy as he stares out at the road. He’s started the car, but he hasn’t moved to pull out of the parking lot yet.

“Hey, you okay?” you say, resting a gentle hand on his arm.

Dean shakes his head. “Look…I’m sorry for tossing a giant friggin’ monkey wrench into your life. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

If possible, your heart softens even more. You slide your hand down to grasp his.

“Dean, this baby wasn’t planned, but he’s not a mistake,” you say. “I don’t regret anything.”

Dean stares back at you, incredulously. He can’t believe you could really say that to him. He doesn’t know what to say. He only knows what’s in his mind, and what he feels compelled to do in that moment.

He leans over and kisses you. It’s a firm meeting of his lips to yours and achingly familiar. But ultimately, it’s chaste. He pulls away and settles back in his seat.

When you blink your eyes back open, your expression is slack in shock.

“I’m sorry,” he says, seeming sheepish, and guilty. “I meant to say thank you. Just didn’t know any other way to say it.”

After a moment, you smile at him. It’s warm and almost shy.

Dean clears his throat, trying to ignore the way his face is heating up. He doesn’t say anything more. He just takes the wheel and shifts gears, pulling the car out of the parking lot. 

You don’t know what possesses you to bake cookies. Dozens and dozens of them, all the chocolate chip cookie recipes you can find. You’re in search of the perfect one. This will be the recipe your son will grow up on, and every time he eats them, he’ll remember how much you loved him.

And then, he’ll be ruined for any other chocolate chip cookies that try to grab his taste buds. He’ll say, Blech. Chips Ahoy? These aren’t as good as Mom makes!

…Or something like that.

Yes, these cookies have to be perfect. You’ll even write the ingredients down on a notecard and hide it away, and it’ll become your family secret recipe.

Once you feel like your cookie game is strong enough, you decide to test these babies out. You bring two dozen painstakingly baked confections to Firehouse 83, where Dean works. The man is a bottomless pit, to be sure, but you also want other people’s unbiased opinions. For science.

You park your car on the side of the road, making sure you’re not blocking the driveway where two huge fire trucks are parked. You head inside the firehouse with your big container under your arm and your purse on the other. Now at seven months into your pregnancy, you’ve gotten to the embarrassing “waddle” stage.

You’re still determined to be active though! You plan to keep working until you have the baby. Your parents live a few hours away, but you’re grateful that they want to help out as much as possible.

Even though they weren’t happy to hear about how you got pregnant, by now they've met Dean and begrudgingly admitted to liking him. He's really stepped up to the responsibility of a future father, insisting on baby-proofing your apartment, helping you shop for the essentials, and going with you to as many doctor’s appointments as he can. He’s even agreed to giving you child support payments, even though you hadn’t wanted to ask for it.

You look for him now as you enter the firehouse, trying to push the heavy glass door open with one hand.

“Here, I got you,” says a familiar baritone voice.

You’re pleasantly surprised at the man who helps you inside.

“Benny! It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, been…a while,” he chuckles, glancing down at the swell of your belly, but he squeezes your shoulder and leans in to hug you gently.

“Dean filled you in?” you ask. You hope so. Having to explain the story to one of his own friends would be embarrassing, especially since this is the man you walked in Sam’s wedding with. It reminds you of that day, and the way you told Dean that news in a glorified closet, with shaking hands and the wrong kind of butterflies.

Thankfully, Benny nods. “That he did…but come on, I’ll show you around. And I see you’ve brought somethin’ special for us?”

He gestures at the container you're holding and offers to take it off your hands. You give it to him, grateful for the help.

“Yeah, and I want you guys to give me your honest opinion.”

Benny tosses you a wink and a smile. “That I can do.”

Your cheeks begin to warm in a blush, but the way he helps you to a comfy couch in the common room earns your smile. There are still good men left in this world, and you’re glad to know that Dean works so well with one.

“You want some coffee, or water? Think we might have some lemonade,” Benny says.

“Water would be great, thank you,” you reply, as you rub your belly. The little man has decided to kick at your liver today. “I stopped drinking coffee for the baby. ”

It's your biggest challenge, to be honest. Try wrangling a group of fifteen to twenty six-year-olds while running on green tea, the fumes of sleep deprivation, reduced bladder control, and as much vim as you can muster.

“Ah, right,” Benny nods. “My sister has two kids. She cut out coffee, pain meds, some dairy stuff. But she claimed cheesecake was all right, ‘cause it’s got cake in the name.”

You giggle. “I see no flaw in her logic.”

Down the hall of the firehouse, Dean is just coming back in from going through a set of drills. He’s still the Candidate—the freshest blood in the house—so they’ve been putting him through his paces for the past several months. He’s eager to learn and to prove himself.

His ears perk up in confusion though. Did he just hear your voice?

Why does it smell like a bakery in here?

When he rounds the corner, he sees you in the common room, smiling and giggling like a teenager at something Benny said to you while he eats a soft baked cookie right out of a Tupperware container. You must’ve brought it for the firehouse.

This cozy little scene kind of annoys Dean somehow, though he doesn’t know why. He does know that it shouldn’t.

“Hey, look who’s here,” Dean says, forcing himself to smile. It becomes easier when you look his way, your eyes brightening at his arrival.

“There you are! Come ‘ere and try these,” you say, pointing at the box Benny holds. “Tell me if our son’s going to have the best PTA mom ever.”

Dean can’t help but grin after trying a big bite of one of your cookies.

“Oh, mah Gah,” he says, holding a hand under his mouth so nothing comes crumbling out.

“Good?” you ask.

“Good friggin’ cookie,” he confirms, after he swallows. “You’re gonna have the other parents frothing at the mouth. Who’s gonna be able to compete with this?”

Benny nods in agreement. When Dean squeezes your shoulder, your sweet, happy smile makes him smile too.

She’s going to be a good mom, he thinks. He can only hope against hope that he can be the man his son needs.

Two months later, the time has finally come. Your water breaks when you’re in the middle of teaching your second graders how to spell exaggerate—and no, Joey, it’s not e-g-g-zagerate.

However, the embarrassment of him pointing out the fluid beginning to stain your slacks is swiftly cut off by your shock. Your first call is to the principal, to have her send someone to cover your class. Your next call is to Dean, telling him to meet you at the hospital.

“Why the hell did he have to bring her,” you mutter to yourself, wiping sweat from your brow. Here you are, gritting your teeth through contraction after contraction in this damn hospital bed, and Dean is outside the room talking to Lisa.

You know you have no real reason to be upset. She’s been trying her best to be your friend in recent months. Hell, she helped Eileen and your mom plan your baby shower. She even brought you flowers when she got to the hospital, but you notice how less than five minutes after she got here, she and Dean became embroiled in yet another argument. It seems to you that all they do is argue, break up for a week or two, and then get back together again.

The sex must be explosive, like the fireworks at goddamn Disney World.

But Dean eventually does come back into the room alone. His support grounds you over the next few hours. He lets you basically break his hand, all while he gives you encouragement (and stands by your shoulder, so he doesn’t see anything you’d rather him not see).

And then, your son is born. Every muscle, every cell in your body is exhausted, but the pain meds have kicked in, and you’re in that blissed out state between abject reality and being entirely entranced by the bundle in your arms. His perfect face is just there, sleeping for the moment after the nurses taught you how to breastfeed.

Dean returns to sit in the chair beside you. He gives you some water and a piece of a protein bar. You’re not that hungry, but he pointed out that you haven’t eaten since before your water broke.

“Sam and Eileen are on their way up,” he says.

You nod in reply. You’re too into your son right now to think of anything else.

Dean shakes his head in wonder as he reaches out with a tentative hand, brushing his fingers over the baby’s downy head. He was born with a little tuft of brown hair.

“Okay, down to business,” Dean says, shooting you a playful look. “I vote for Zeppelin.”

You groan. “Dean, no. Veto. I’m not naming my son after a rock band.”

“Aw, come on. It’s a badass name!”

“What about Aiden?” you suggest.

“Veto,” he snorts. You two agreed to getting five “vetos” each, but this discussion has been more like a battle of wills over the last several months.

“Okay, what about Daniel? That’s strong, classic,” you pose.

Dean considers it with a tilt of his head. “All right, that one’s a maybe.”

Again, he strokes the baby’s soft cheek. You look over at Dean with a small smile.

“You’re going to be a good dad, you know,” you tell him. It earns his gaze. Although he’s trying to stay strong, you read the hidden insecurity there, the worry and fear. You rest a hand on his arm. “You are, Dean. You’re a good man, and you’ve really stepped up these past few months. This obviously isn’t how either of us thought our lives would go, but if this had to happen with someone, I’m glad it’s you.”

Dean’s expression softens. He hesitates, but he lays a hand over yours and squeezes gently.

“Thanks,” he says.

Your eyes meet, and it’s a moment charged with something you can’t even name. It’s not the first time you’ve felt this feeling with him. It both fills your heart with warmth, and makes you ache.

Then the door opens. It’s Lisa, Sam, and Eileen. Dean’s hand slips away from yours as they all pour in to congratulate you and Dean, and of course, meet the baby. There’s a lot of soft cooing and playful shushing.

In that small chaos, your parents call to tell you that they’re finally almost here. It really sucked not having your mom with you, but your parents live far enough away that they were going to take a train and stay with you for at least a week. Their train unfortunately got delayed due to mechanical failure.

It's okay though. Getting through the past several hours has made you realize that you’re stronger and more capable than you think, and even though part of you is still scared to death, you don’t need a husband to be a good mom. You’re going to give this your all, no matter who’s beside you…

And that's no more apparent than when Dean soon has to step out again, leading Lisa out of the room. He saw how her “helpful” suggestion to have a get-together at their apartment to celebrate the baby’s birth was setting you on edge. Really, you just want to sleep for the next 24-hours and not have any more pictures of you taken.

It gets loud enough outside your hospital room that Sam and Eileen feel they have to intervene. Lisa is Eileen’s best friend, and she’s the best equipped to try and deescalate the argument from that end, while Sam deals with Dean. It’s messy, it’s irritating, and it means that even today, you can’t just have a little bit of peace.

You sigh and cradle your still nameless baby close to your chest. He’s all that matters. Already, your heart is so damn full just taking him in.

“What’s your name, my little love?” you whisper. “What am I going to write on your certificate, besides Winchester?”

“How about Benjamin,” comes a Louisiana drawl.

You perk up and smile in surprise. “Benny, hey.”

He greets you with a slightly hesitant kiss on the cheek. He’s brought the baby an adorable teddy bear, and you a beautiful bouquet of white and blue roses, along with a box of chocolates.

“It’s the assorted kind, but they’ve got plenty of the caramel ones you like,” he says, then gazes down at the baby. “Aw, he’s a little charmer. Already got more of you than Dean, that’s for sure.”

You laugh lightly at his teasing. “I don’t know about that.” You hope your son inherits Dean’s strong jaw, and his green eyes.

Benny scratches the back of his head. “Also…sorry if I’m crossing some kind of boundary here. Looks like it’s a bit of a circus outside.”

You shake your head and smile through burgeoning tears. You set the chocolates on the end table where he’s placed the flowers and the teddy bear.

“No, it’s very sweet. Thank you,” you say. You glance out the window of your room to the hallway, where the arguing between Dean, Lisa, Sam, and Eileen seems to finally be calming down. You’re so damn tired, you don’t give a crap about whatever they’re hashing out now.

You look down at your son, and despite your strong thoughts earlier, insecurity begins to creep back into your mind like inky claws.  

“How are you holding up?” Benny asks. His face is kind and concerned when he notes the change in you.

You meet him with a wobbly smile. “Honestly? I’m afraid. I know I have a lot of people who want to support me, and I’m grateful, but…I just have this terrible feeling that we’re going to end up alone, him and me.”

You look down at your son, and you have to wipe away a tear from your eye before it falls on his face.

A large, warm hand rests over yours. Your gaze raises slowly, and Benny smiles at you. He’s serious though.

“Don’t you worry about that,” he says. “You’re not gonna be alone.”

FIVE YEARS LATER... 

For all that changes, there are some things that stay the same.

Dean and Lisa are still the world’s most “off again, on again” couple you’ve ever met. Sam and Eileen are still going strong as the hardworking, driven career couple. Your son is growing more and more every day and just started kindergarten this year.

(You ultimately caved on Dean’s idea to name him Robert, as in Robert Plant, lead singer of Led Zeppelin.)

Oh, yeah, and the “you and Benny” thing? That’s been going well for two years now.

What can you say? The man is persistent, but respectfully so. He’s considerate, reliable, and always calls you when work at the firehouse has him running late.

You haven’t yet invited him to move in with you. That part you’re still hesitant on, mostly because of your son, but Benny helps you drop off Robbie at school and makes breakfast for you all whenever he stays over your apartment. Benny takes an interest in your son’s life and keeps up with all his energy, taking him to the park to run himself ragged before dinner, and helping you tuck him in at night.

Benny is a bit closed off though, the strong stoic type. He’s hard for you to get a read on, and sometimes you wonder if he’s just indulging you when you ramble on about your day or make silly jokes. Even now, sometimes you withhold the first thought that comes to your mind, hoping he doesn’t think you immature or…too much.

But Benny shows his caring in all those little things he does for you. They add up into the big things, and he makes you feel supported. He makes you feel safe.

He even helps you plan your son’s fifth birthday. Robbie wanted to go all out on a dinosaur theme; he’s been hooked on Jurassic Park ever since Benny “accidentally” let him watch it with him on one of your rare nights out with your friends.

So you set up a little party at the park by your apartment. You managed to reserve the biggest gazebo, where there are three picnic tables covered with dinosaur plates, and tablecloths, streamers in different shades of green. You even bought a big dinosaur cake—also in a radioactive green color that you hadn’t been sure about, but your son talked you into. Robbie thinks it’s awesome.

He’s running around on the playground with a few of his friends from school. Their parents (along with Sam, Eileen, and Lisa) are talking amongst themselves at one of the picnic tables while you try to figure out how to get the Bluetooth speaker to connect with your phone.

“Haha! Got it. If you're so smart, Alexa, why don't you connect on the first try?” You fist-pump the air triumphantly, just as Benny comes to your side. He wraps an arm around your waist and kisses your cheek, making you smile.

“How’s it going out there?” you ask, nodding at the kids. Plus Dean, who’s gamely been the one to keep them entertained with different games. Right now, it’s a thrilling game of Cowboys and Outlaws, where Robbie and his friends are the cowboys, and Dean is the outlaw. He’s been hiding under the slide, behind trees and other playground fixtures, while the kids have little squirt guns to pelt him with water every time they find him.

It's pretty damn cute, and you’ve been taking pictures. You smile at the sight of Dean leaping out at Robbie and the kids, catching them off guard.

“You’ll never take me alive, Sheriff!” Dean declares.

“Oh, it’s goin’,” Benny remarks with an amused shake of his head. “Still hard to believe that guy’s about to make it to Lieutenant.”

“Hahaaa, gotcha!!” Dean cackles. He’s grabbed up Robbie and yanked him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Robbie screeches with laughter while his dad runs around the playground, being chased by a bunch of five-year-olds with squirt guns.

Your smile threatens to make your cheeks hurt. You know your life is…unconventional, to say the least, but Dean is a good father to your son. He’s also been working hard at his job. He just took the Lieutenant’s test, and even though Benny already occupies that position at Firehouse 83, a spot at another firehouse might open up for Dean to transfer.

“Part of me doesn’t want to,” Dean admitted to you last week, while he was working on fixing your stubborn, leaky sink. “All the guys there, they’re like family, you know?” “I understand,” you nodded. “You have to do what feels best for you, whether that’s staying where you feel comfortable, or moving up in your career somewhere else. If it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it.” He took in your advice with a slow nod. “Yeah, thanks. Guess I have to time to think about it. Lisa had other ideas.” “Of course,” you said with a smile, but it soon dropped. “Why, what did she say?” “Do what I can to move up,” he sighed. “She’s got a point. That title comes with a pay bump, one I could really use right now.” “I get that. Totally valid,” you said. “But I just think it’s important for you to be happy with it too. Especially with what you do, helping people, saving people…I’d imagine being in the right mindset for all that is important, right? Who you work with can be just as important as the money stuff.” Dean considered you with a smile. “Yeah, exactly.”

As you think about it now, you have to admit that he’s grown up a lot.

Dean has to lean against a tree to catch his breath. Am I already getting too old for this crap?

Feels kind of young to have a stitch in his side after a few rounds with these kids, but even he has his limits. Lisa comes to bring him a bottle of ice-cold water, which he appreciates. He’s tempted to dump it over his head like he does after successfully neutralizing a fire. It gets literally hot as hell under that helmet and mask and all his gear underneath.

“Need an iron lung?” Lisa teases.

“Toss in a new pair of knees, thanks,” he wheezes. He downs half the water bottle in one go, but he smiles at seeing his son keep running around with his friends. He’s just got that manic kid energy that goes on for days. But Robbie’s also smart; like Dean, he likes taking things apart and putting them back together in new and ingenious ways.

Dean hopes his son likes the new model car set that’s waiting for him on the picnic table full of presents. In fact, he’s still surprised that you didn’t go with the race car theme he suggested for the party, but apparently, Robbie’s more into dinosaurs now. Dean wishes he knew that before he bought the model car set.

He looks over and catches sight of you and Benny wrapped up in each other. He has his arm around your waist while you fiddle with something, but the way you lean over and whisper near his ear elicits a smile on Benny’s face.

Dean’s good mood diminishes.

“Well, don’t they seem cozy,” he mutters.

Lisa arches a manicured brow. “Yeah, pretty sure he’s getting ready to propose.”

That earns Dean’s attention, his head swiveling back to her in surprise.

“Really?” he asks. “Who told you that?”

“His sister,” she replies. “Meg’s in my intermediate class, remember?”

Dean nods, sipping at his water, even though he’s a bit absent in the eyes. Lisa watches him shrewdly.

“Why do you seem upset about it?” she asks. “Benny’s your friend.”

“I know,” Dean says. He doesn’t need that reminder, or the guilty twinge. It’s not like he’s done anything wrong.

“And she seems happy,” Lisa points out. “Don’t you want the mother of your kid to be with a good man who treats her right?”

He nods, trying to hide his growing annoyance. “‘Course I do. I just…I don’t know. I still don’t see them together, I guess.”

“Well, they’ve been together for like, two years.”

Again, Dean nods his acknowledgement. It’s hard for him to believe that so much time has passed already. He honestly didn’t think you and Benny would be together this long. He’d always felt a little uncomfortable with one of his best friends dating you, but you’d seemed happy about it, so he didn’t discourage it. But he’d never been very supportive, either. At least, not about your relationship.

Lisa sighs and grabs his arm, pulling him aside before he can rejoin the party.

“Listen, we need to talk about something,” she says.

Dean restrains a tired groan. “Can this wait ‘til later?”

“I think we should do this now,” she says. A hallmark Lisa-ism. She’s opinionated and strong-willed, something Dean’s always respected about her. Sometimes though, the timing is damn irritating. He doesn’t want to get into another argument with his girlfriend in public, especially not at his son’s birthday party.

“Speaking of commitment,” she says with a sigh. “I think it’s fair to say that we’ve been on a five-year rollercoaster, you and I. You know why that is?”

“I’m sure you’re gonna tell me,” Dean says, crossing his arms.

“It’s because you’re spread too thin,” she says. “Between the firehouse, construction jobs on the side…not to mention other things.”

“What? What’re you talking about?”

Lisa’s lips purse, before she pointedly gestures over at you with her eyes. “Well, for example. You’re still going to her place after your next shift to fix her fridge, right?”

“Yeah, I mean, should be pretty simple. I’ve just gotta swing by the hardware store and grab this specialty tool I ordered—”

“Dean,” Lisa deadpans. “That’s exactly the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

She heaves a deep breath, running her fingers through her long brown hair.

“I get that navigating this situation hasn’t been easy for you,” she says. “It hasn’t exactly been easy for me either, but look.”

Lisa takes his hands in hers, uncrossing his arms. “I want to get married someday. I want kids too. And I want that kind of life with you…I’m just not sure you want it with me.”

Dean expels a heavy sigh. “Lis—”

“Don’t answer me right now,” she says, but she levels him with a serious look. “You need to decide though, Dean. Five years is long enough. You should know by now if you want to be with me.”

After letting go of his hands, she softens the edges of her words with a gentle kiss on his cheek. Then she turns to join the group now gathered around the picnic table where the food is, all the kids cheering for pizza and cake.

After the party, Sam, Eileen, Lisa, and Benny pack up their cars and yours with the leftover food, party supplies, and presents. Dean helps you clean up the trash, all while keeping an eye on Robbie getting out the last of his sugar-high on the playground swing.

You shake your head tiredly, if with a fond smile. “That kid’s gonna be up all night hype on that radioactive cake.”

Dean chuckles. “You want me to take him tonight?”

“It’s okay. I think he’s going to want to play with his toys,” you reply.

“Well, he could just as easily do that at my place,” he reasons.

You consider it, but you shake your head. “Yeah, but we got him the bike. He’s probably gonna want to try it out for a few minutes before we get him cleaned up.”

“By ‘we,’ you mean you and Benny,” Dean says, his tone becoming surly. “And about that. Don’t you think a bike is something you should run by me? That’s typically a ‘dad’ kind of gift.”

You pause what you’re doing at the sound of his tone. Your brows knit together.

“Sorry, but I feel like a bike isn’t exclusively a dad thing,” you say.

“My dad got me my first bike,” Dean replies. “Spent a whole three days teaching me how to ride.”

You take a minute to think about it. You understand where Dean’s coming from, so you nod.

“Okay, I get it. You want to be there to help teach Robbie? I’m sure he’d love that.” 

Dean tosses a wadded-up ball of frosting-covered napkins and stops, letting his hands fall to his sides in frustration. He draws closer and helps you untie the balloons from the picnic table.

“Yeah, I do, but that’s not the point,” he says. “Why can’t I take him home tonight?”

You blink up at him in confusion. “Well, like I said. The bike—”

“That I should’ve gotten for him,” he snaps. “Which, let me guess, Benny picked out. Right?”

You frown at him in earnest now. “Dean, why are you getting so upset about it? It’s just a bike.”

“Well you know what, it’s not! And it’s not just the damn bike either.” He swipes a hand over his face in annoyance, a telltale sign you’ve come to read well on the man. “Look, I’m missing too much shit, all right? Like, like the dinosaur thing! And the fact that I only get him on the weekends.”

You turn toward him, trying to put a cap on your own annoyance. This isn’t the first time you two have had a conversation like this. 

“We’ve gone over this before, Dean. Your schedule at the firehouse is just too unpredictable,” you say. “Robbie needs as much stability as possible between us. But…okay, if you want to take him tonight, that’s fine. We can bring the bike over to your place and show it to him there.”

You’re trying to be as reasonable as possible, and Dean knows that. Still, anger prickles just under his skin, and he can’t help but push his luck.

“You still should’ve asked be before you got the bike in the first place,” he argues.

Your brows raise high. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Look, it’s not like we bought him a Honda Civic. Honestly, Dean, why are you picking a fight with me right now?” you ask. “Did you and Lisa get into it again or something?”

Dean looks away and crosses his arms, giving you all the confirmation you need.

“Yeah, that’s right,” you nod. “I saw you two over there on the playground, looked pretty heated. But do me a favor. Don’t come at me with that energy, because I’m too damn tired of it!”

When you walk away from him, Dean can’t help but stare after you. He knows he fucked that up, just as he knows that you don’t deserve him snapping at you. He’s just too irritated to admit it.

For the entire week that follows, Dean finds himself distracted. He sticks to his word and helps Benny teach his son how to ride a bike in between their shifts at the firehouse, but Dean comes home each night feeling even more frustrated and drained than before. It’s too much, knowing Benny’s slowly but surely carving out a father-figure role in Robbie’s life.

These thoughts follow Dean to work, even while he climbs up the firetruck ladder in the rain. It’s parallel to a busted utility pole that still sparks with electricity, even in this torrential downpour. His task is to get up to the top and grab a large branch that’s tangled in the lines.

Rung after rung, he climbs. His safety mask protects his eyes from the rain, but he wishes they had some mini windshield wipers to keep his vision clear of the droplets pelting him in the face.

He also can’t help thinking of you. If Lisa’s right, then Benny’s about to become a more permanent fixture in Robbie’s life, and yours. 

Okay fine. It’s not like Dean expected you to be single forever, but did you really have to get with one of his best friends? Does it really have to be Benny, who seems so natural with Robbie, and more patient than Dean, and more of a support to you and Robbie than Dean can ever be?

And then there’s Lisa’s little ultimatum. He understands why she’s frustrated with him. Honestly, he’s surprised she’s stuck around this long. He knows she’s not going to wait too much longer for him to get his act together. For him to decide, as she put it.

It’s not that he’s not sure about her, it’s just that…

Just that what? he wonders.

He manages to grab the wily tree branch and maneuver it out of the power lines. 

He just doesn’t realize that his glove doesn’t have quite enough friction on the metal side panel of the ladder. Not only does his hand slip, but he’s forced to let go of the branch while he loses his balance. The branch falls to the sidewalk, far, far down below.

“Dean!” Benny shouts in alarm.

Luckily, the truck itself breaks Dean's fall.

Holding Robbie’s hand tightly in yours is the only thing keeping you steady as you lead him through the hospital. After the receptionist had checked you both in and gave you the room number, you hastened down the hall and up to the right floor. 2005.

Robbie breaks into tears when he finally gets to see his dad, laid up though he is in his hospital bed. Your throat tightens at the sight of Dean hooked up to all those monitors. He has his arm wrapped up and fitted into a sling. He has a thick piece of gauze taped to the side of his face, covering a wide, angry abrasion, but he seems to be resting easy on his back. The bed is at an incline, with most of the overhead lights turned off.

Robbie rushes to the bed before you can stop him. He hesitantly touches Dean’s non-injured right hand. “Daddy?”

“Robbie, wait,” you say, keeping your voice quiet. You quickly go over to the bedside and grab ahold of Robbie’s shoulders, but Dean takes a deep breath. His eyelids crack open.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, attempting a smile. His voice is rough and weak, but at least he’s awake.

Robbie’s lower lip wobbles as tears fill his eyes again.

“Come ‘ere,” Dean says, a little stronger. When he reaches out to his son, the kid hops up onto the bed and buries his face into his father’s chest. Dean holds him as securely as he can, soothing his hand over the boy’s hair and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“It’s okay, little man. ‘M okay,” he promises. Robbie nods, but he still continues to cry.

You can’t help but do the same. Tears slip down your cheeks without your consent. Dean beckons you over too, gesturing with his chin and a slight smile. You’re more tentative in the way you sit down at the edge of his bed. You run your fingers through Robbie’s light brown hair to help reassure him. Then, you meet Dean’s gaze and lay a hand on his good shoulder. You don’t know whether you’re steadying him, or yourself.

“How do you feel?” you ask. “The hospital called me. Benny told me what happened.”

The thought reminds you to text your boyfriend. You hadn’t had a chance to tell him you made it here yet. He must be downstairs grabbing a bite to eat, because he’s the one who rode with Dean in the ambulance and has been with him for a while.

“The hospital called you?” Dean notes in slight confusion.

“Eileen told me that Sam is in court right now, so I must’ve been next on the list,” you say. He also must have taken Lisa off his emergency list the last time they broke up for almost a month. He probably forgot to update it again.

You reach out a hand to almost touch the bandage by his temple. Instead, you hesitantly hold the side of his face to see the area better. Dean closes his eyes for a moment. You can see he’s in pain. Your hand lingers on his cheek, but you know, deep down, that it shouldn’t.

Dean doesn’t stop you though. He lets out a deep breath, savoring how nice the gentle touch feels when the rest of his body feels battered to hell.

“Fell off the ladder. Was a stupid rookie move,” he explains, but when he sees that look on your face, he tries to inject a little more joking into a smile. “S’ not so bad.”

“You could’ve broken your head as well as your arm,” you say, more sharply than you mean to.

Robbie whimpers and clings tighter to Dean. You cover your mouth, as if you can trap the words back inside. You don’t want to upset your son more than he already is, so you fall silent. Another tear works its way down your cheek, but you brush it away. Dean shakes his head.

“Hey, I’m okay,” he reassures you too. He manages to smile as he pats Robbie’s back. “Right, buddy?”

The boy’s head perks up. His eyes are still shiny, but he smiles too. He’s not one to speak when he’s upset though, so he just curls up against Dean’s chest and hangs onto him. Dean rests his good arm snugly around him.

You smile and stroke Robbie’s back. Though your hand lowers, resting on Dean’s hand. You take in a deep breath to calm yourself down. Dean’s fingers curl around yours, prompting you to glance up into his eyes. The way he’s watching you is soft, grateful.

Until the door creaks open. Benny steps in with a subtle clearing of his throat. You jolt internally, and you slip your hand away from Dean’s. You offer your boyfriend a wan smile.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hey, baby.” He comes over and greets you with a kiss to the side of your head. He smiles at your son gently. “The gang’s all here.”

“Oh! Let me call Sam, and Lisa too. They still don’t know what’s going on,” you say. You get up from the bed to grab your phone out of your purse. Dean nods in agreement and thanks you, while Robbie plays with his dad's long fingers.

“How you holdin’ up, brother?” Benny asks, after you step out of the room. He settles into the chair near the foot of the bed.

“Ah, you know me. I’m like a cat. Always stick the landing,” Dean says, smiling lazily. The morphine is starting to kick in again.

Benny smirks. “Maybe you do got nine lives, the amount of close calls you like gettin’ yourself into.”

Dean’s good humor fades. He considers his son in his arms, and he shakes his head.

“Yeah, well, no more,” he says. He got a taste of what it would be like to leave his boy behind, and he’s not fucking doing it. He’s not leaving you to raise Robbie by yourself. The mere idea tears a new hole in his heart.

His eyes sting just enough that he has to blink a bit harder, swallowing past a thick well of emotion in his throat. He presses another kiss to the top of Robbie’s head. Then, Dean meets Benny’s gaze.

“Thank you,” he says, and he means it.

Benny nods.

“You got it, brother.”

When Lisa steps off the hospital elevator on the second floor, you happen to be coming out of the bathroom to fix your racoon eyes. You’ve been crying way too much. You attempt to greet Lisa with something reassuring, but she cuts you off. 

“What happened, and why didn’t the hospital call me directly?” she asks.

Her tone is cutting, and it takes you aback.

“Well, Sam and I were listed as his emergency contacts—”

“Why?” she snaps. “You’re not his wife or his girlfriend. I should’ve been listed.”

Jesus Christ. At this point, you can’t help it. You’re too tired and emotionally drained to lasso in your temper with this woman.

“Maybe if you and Dean stayed together longer than five minutes at a time, he’d put you back on the short list,” you sling back. “But the truth is, you’ve never just…been there for Dean. Not without demanding something from him.”

Lisa scoffs incredulously. “Oh, that’s fucking rich coming from you. You’re the reason he can’t commit to anything. You think your little world is the only one that matters, and you call Dean for any little thing! What, don’t you have a boyfriend to help fix your goddamn sink?” 

You open your mouth to retort, but you pause as her words seep into your mind. She might actually have a small point about that one. You realize then just how often you’ve been asking Dean for his help, not just with your apartment, but with your car, and other logistical things that usually have to with Robbie. Dean’s just such a good handyman, and you thought he genuinely liked being able to help…even though Benny did mention once or twice that he’d be just as happy to help you.

“Lisa, this is a lot more than a leaky sink. I just wanted to get here with Robbie and make sure Dean was okay,” you try to explain.

“Good. I’m glad his son was the first person Dean got to see when he woke up,” Lisa says. “But I should’ve been the second.”

She brushes past you before you can even think of what to say. You’re in a state of shock, feeling guilty, incensed, and on the verge of tears all at once.

A familiar voice calls your name, and you turn to Benny just as those tears begin to fall. He gathers you up into his arms and holds you there in the middle of the hallway.

“She shouldn’t talk to you like that, no matter how high tensions are today. I’ll talk to Dean,” Benny says. You shake your head and bury your face in his chest, clenching your fingers in his red flannel shirt. 

“No, it’s okay,” you reply, despite the sob that shudders through you. You’ve lost the will to fight.

Benny shakes his head and presses a kiss to your forehead. “It ain’t okay, baby.”

“Please, don’t bother Dean with this. Especially not right now,” you say. You take a moment to wipe your eyes and get ahold of yourself. “I’m gonna go get Robbie so Dean can rest.”

You can’t shake the feeling that Lisa is right. You do rely on Dean too much. You just don’t want to think about why that is.

Dean makes a full recovery after a few months. He never does hear about what happened in that hallway, but he knows that things need to change. 

He decides to dig out his mom’s engagement ring from a locked box of his parents’ keepsakes, though he’s still waiting on the right time for it. He and Lisa start looking at houses though, for real this time. She hires a realtor and everything. 

He’s making a firm decision, and he thinks it’s the right one. He wants to be there for his son, but he doesn’t want to keep “spreading himself too thin.” He has to figure out how to set some roots, and some boundaries with you while he’s at it. He’ll just have to come to terms with the idea that he won’t get to be there for everything. 

He has to be okay with the fact that you’ll probably marry Benny. You’ll keep making him cookies and cakes, giving him your smile and your time and your body. And Robbie will probably think of Benny as more of a father than his own Weekend Dad. 

Meanwhile, you’ve spent the past few months keeping yourself in check as well. You’ve stopped calling Dean for help whenever something breaks down in your old-ass apartment. You try to keep your conversations less about life and troubles and whatever funny thing your students did that day in class, and more focused on Robbie–strictly about his schedule and his needs.

It’s kind of painful, if you’re honest with yourself. Sam will always be one of your closest friends from college, but in the past five years, Dean has truly become your best friend. Because you’ve told him things. The things that come from sharing a child with someone, like Sunday dinners with your parents, flipping through old yearbooks and childhood pictures—and the details of day-to-day schedules and little stupid things that happen in moments between moments.

Dean also knows the deep cuts. Like being pregnant and scared and breaking down crying on the side of the road. Like sharing the deepest well of your insecurities with someone who knows your body intimately, even if just for one amazing night...a night you’ve never quite been able to put out of your mind.

However, you know that things can’t stay the same. From now on, he just needs to be your son’s father. Nothing more, nothing less. 

So today, on a crisp April 24th, you’re getting ready for a highly anticipated evening with your boyfriend. Robbie is sleeping over your parents’ house, and Benny has been planning something special for your third-year anniversary. 

You slip into your new dress, a deep emerald green, with a pair of black heels you’ve rarely worn since before you got pregnant. Come to think of it, you were wearing these the night of Sam and Eileen’s bachelor-bachelorette party. The night you…well, the night Robbie was conceived. 

You shake your head to rid yourself of those thoughts. You even consider changing. 

You’re being silly, you shake your head. They’re just shoes. 

And yet. Thinking of that time so long ago, it reminds you of a recent Sunday dinner at your parents’ house.

Two Months Ago...

Your parents live modestly, but comfortably in rural Kansas. Their ranch-style home boasts a creek in the backyard, where your dad is teaching your son how to catch minnows. Your mom is inside working on an apple pie, knowing it’s both Dean’s and Robbie’s favorite.

You and Dean have kept close to the house under the shade, sitting on a bench made more comfortable by a pair of old polyester cushions with red, faded flowers.

“How much longer do you have to wear that?” you ask Dean. He glances down at his cast-covered left arm.

“Doc says it’s about ready to come off,” he says.

You nod, allowing yourself a certain smile. “How bad are you itching to grab my mom’s garden shears and cut it off right here?”

“Woman, don’t tempt me,” he says, his lips twitching at a grin. “I’ve been eying those overgrown scissors for the past half hour.”

You laugh and take another sip of your glass. Yours holds sweet tea, while Dean’s has some of your dad’s favorite whiskey. You both raise your heads when Robbie yells across the backyard.

“I caught a minnow!”

“Good job, buddy,” Dean grins. “See if you can catch a marlin!”

“A marlin?” Robbie questions.

“Yeah, like that orange guy in Finding Nemo,” Dean calls back.

Your dad gives Dean the same wry look you do, though yours is tinged with more amusement.

“Dean, that’s a clown fish,” you say. “He’s not gonna find that in the creek.”

“Aw, shit,” he tries to quiet his laugh. “Ah well, should keep him occupied for another twenty minutes.”

You bite your lip to stifle your laughter as well. Though something else occurs to you the longer you watch your son play and explore in the creek. Your dad has the patience of a saint as he puts yet another bait worm on the hook for the kid.

“He’s starting to ask questions, you know,” you tell Dean, in a quieter voice. “‘Why aren’t you and Daddy married? Why can’t we all live together?’”

Dean's brows raise. His good humor dims when he looks over at you.

“What do you tell him?” he asks.

You take in a deep breath, considering your words now as carefully as you did with your son.

“That we care about each other a lot, as friends,” you say, meeting Dean’s eyes. “And we love Robbie very much. Nothing’s going to change that, even if you and I aren’t together like a normal mom and dad.”

Saying it like that makes your heart twinge, for more than one reason. The way Dean’s mouth twitches into a rueful smile just makes it worse, but you try your best to ignore it.

“I never thought about having to explain it to him,” he says, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

It’s that anxious tell of his again. You notice every time he does it.

“I have,” you admit. “I just didn’t know for sure what I was going to say until it was coming out of my mouth.”

Dean smirks a little. “Yeah, that sounds like you.”

You roll your eyes and sip your drink, crossing your arms as well. Dean considers you then, looking at you in a way that makes you raise a brow in question.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing, it’s just…” He sits back against the bench and rubs his hands down his jean-clad thighs. “For the record, I did try to ask you out once.”

“What?” you scoff incredulously. “No, you’ve been with Lisa since the beginning.”

“Before Lisa,” Dean says.

He isn’t joking. He isn’t teasing. He’s serious as he stares back at you with those green eyes of his. Your brows furrow as you wrack your brain. Did he drunkenly leave you a voicemail on one of those “off again” episodes between him and Lisa? No. You know you’d remember something like that.

“It was a few weeks after the bachelor party,” Dean says. “I called you up, remember?”

Your eyes widen. Finally, that jogs your memory.

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.” And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition.

You have to laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Dean, you did not ask me out,” you say. “You wanted to hook up. There’s a distinct difference.”

Dean frowns at you. “No, I was. I invited you over—”

“For essentially some Netflix and chill,” you retort.

“Hey, I offered to make you dinner,” he argues. “I didn’t say anything about hooking up.”

You pause at that. His earnest denial makes you actually think back to what you remember about that conversation on the phone.

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.” And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition. “I could make us some burgers, toss in a couple of beers and a movie night,” he adds.

You cover your lips with your fingers as you begin to realize…

“That was you asking me out?” you ask incredulously.

Dean’s brows furrow and he throws his hands up. “What? Who doesn’t like a little movie night?”

“Dean,” you huff another laugh. “You could’ve made it sound more like a date.”

“Well, ‘scuse me. Sorry I couldn’t afford the Ritz at the time,” he grumbles.

You sigh. “That’s not what I meant.”

The more you think about it, the more you just shake your head at yourself. Why did you have to overthink it, like you do everything?

“Wow,” you say, softer and more contrite. “I honestly never thought…”

“Yeah,” he says. He shifts his gaze out ahead.

You glance over at him, now more unsure of yourself. He wouldn’t have any regrets, you think. He has Lisa. As much as they go at it, they always inevitably get back together. And now you know they hired a realtor. They’re about to start making solid steps forward.

But Dean surprises you with another question.

“Do you think if…”

He doesn’t finish it, but you think you know what he’s asking. You hesitate, your fingers flexing around your glass that beads with condensation. You set the glass down beside you. 

Just as you open your mouth to reply—

“All right, pie is cooling and dinner is served!” your mom calls out. Her head pokes out of the sliding glass door to the backyard. You offer a smile, trying to hide how you jolted in your seat.

“Okay, thanks, Mom,” you nod.

You turn back to Dean, who also hesitates. His eyes meet yours, but all too soon, he locks the moment away.

Bracing his hands on his knees, he rocks to his feet and goes out to get Robbie and help your dad bring in the fishing gear.

You grab Dean’s whiskey along with your tea on your way back inside the house. You consider the amber liquid disturbed in his glass, and you down the rest yourself. The burn down your throat is a good distraction. If he asks about it, you’ll say you got the glasses confused.

You know you’ll have to leave that conversation unfinished at the foot of the bench.

Now...

Benny comes by your apartment and helps you into the passenger side of his pickup truck, like the gentleman he is. He takes you to a nice restaurant in downtown, much nicer than the usual sports bar or kid-friendly restaurant. You're very much looking forward to eating at a restaurant that doesn't feature chicken fingers or "kiddie" corn dogs.

“This is gonna be really expensive,” you whisper to him, after he hands his keys over to the valet. 

Benny squeezes your hand in his, leaning over to kiss your temple. 

“Don’t you worry about that. We both deserve a night out.” His blue eyes gleam with amusement. However, his gaze gentles, becoming more sincere. “You work hard, carin’ for everybody around you. How about you let me take care of you for once.”

Your eyes begin to water, your throat constricting with emotion. You rub his arm gratefully.

“Thank you,” you say. “You don’t know how much I appreciate that.” 

It’s always easy with Benny. Nice and simple and easy. Nice, supportive, and considerate.

Nice and safe.

That thought follows you while you and Benny walk into to the restaurant. He’s reserved great seats in the back corner, overlooking a beautiful courtyard. It’s decorated with hydrangeas and light wood dining tables, all framed with a rod iron archway as the sun begins to set just so. After holding your chair out for you before he sits himself, Benny orders a bottle of champagne to kick things off.

He turns to you with a somewhat nervous look in his eyes, like he's steeling himself. It’s uncharacteristic of Benny, who’s always so calm and charming and sure of himself. It makes a zing of anticipation run down your spine, and…a dash of fear. You don’t know why, and you don’t know how to beat the feeling down as you fidget in your seat.

He subtly clears his throat, then takes your hand. “Sweetheart, I know I’m not all that good at the words you’re supposed to say. But I can say that the past three years with you and Robbie, it’s come to mean the world to me.”

Your smile softens. He brushes his thumb over the back of your hand, encouraged by your reaction.

“So I think it’s time I made it clear where I stand, and how much I want to be the man in your life,” he says.

Your eyes begin to widen in shock, but not for the reason he thinks.

“Dean,” you gasp.

Benny’s expression slackens. “What?”

You point over his shoulder, and Benny turns to follow your line of vision. Dean and Lisa have just walked into the restaurant. They notice you pointing their way, and they both pause in surprise as well. Lisa is beautiful as usual in a slinky black dress, completely backless (something you feel you could never pull off, unless you had an invisible bra to keep the girls perked up).

Dean is…well, you’ve very rarely seen him in a suit, but charcoal gray works for him. The open collar and white buttoned-down works for him, as do the three top buttons he’s left undone, showing a tantalizing strip of tanned skin. He stares back at you like he forgot you live in the same time zone, let alone the same zip code.

“Uh, hey!” he casts out an awkward wave, before he makes his way over to you and Benny. Lisa is less than enthused.

“We shouldn’t interrupt their night,” you catch her whisper to him, but Dean doesn’t seem to hear her.

“What’s up, party people! Of all the gin joints in all the world, huh?” Dean says, a little too loudly when he thumps Benny on the back. Benny grunts, giving a bit of a forced chuckle.

“Dean,” he greets. “I think I told you about this particular gin joint. Good to see you can actually clean up once in a while.”

“Ah, you know what, this monkey suit ain’t too bad,” Dean says, pulling at his collar.

You smirk in amusement. “Yeah, I remember how much you complained about wearing a simple tie for Robbie’s Christmas pageant.”

He smirks down at you. “Hey, ties still might not be my thing, but nothing wrong with a sharp collar.”

He pops his for emphasis. You don’t know why it makes you laugh, but it does. Maybe it’s just his face and the silly, endearing expression he makes when he pouts his lips in a “blue steel.”

“So, is this just a night out, or you guys celebrating something special?” Dean asks, gesturing at the champagne bottle and your full glasses of bubbly.

Benny gives his friend a certain look. “Yeah, as a matter of fact. Today’s three years.”

He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. You smile back at him, though you’re a bit self-conscious at the way both he and Dean, and even Lisa have their attention on you.

“We should let you guys get back to it then,” Lisa says.

Honestly, it’s a relief. You and Benny nod, wishing them a goodnight.

For some reason, you notice how Dean’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. But he goes with Lisa, laying a hand on the small of her back. You force yourself to tear your eyes away from them and refocus on Benny. You take up your champagne glass and raise it in offering.

“All right, where were we?” you ask, if with a nervous trill in your belly.

Benny smiles. He takes up his glass and clinks it with yours.

Lisa nearly sighs. She and Dean are back in line at the front of the restaurant, waiting to be seated. The second time she catches Dean glancing over at the table where you and Benny sit, she shakes her head and digs into her purse for the valet card. She’s done with this.

“I think maybe we should go to a different restaurant,” she says.

That finally earns Dean’s attention, mostly confused. “What, why?”

She just gives him a long look.

He realizes that whatever her reasons are, it’s easier to just give in than to fight her on it. He’s learning when to pick his battles. Or is he just giving up?

Also, if tonight’s “the night” he thinks it is for you and Benny, maybe he doesn’t want to stick around after all. Three years, huh?

“All right, fine. Let’s go,” he agrees.

Dean and Lisa wait for the valet to bring the Impala around. The minute he gets behind the wheel and turns the key into the ignition, she changes her mind.

“Look, let’s just go home,” she says. “I don’t really feel like eating out anymore.”

Dean’s brows raise. “What? Aw, come on. We’re already dressed and everything. You look great, Lis. Just tell me where you wanna eat.”

Lisa remains firm, with a small shake of her head. “Please, Dean, just take me home.”

After a moment of indecision, Dean sighs. He revs the ignition and does as she says.

It’s only a fifteen-minute drive back to their apartment, but in that stifling silence, it seems to drag on for a small eternity. He glances at her a couple of times. Lisa has her arms crossed as she stares out the window, watching the other restaurants and mom-and-pops shops and forest trees and old houses of Lebanon, Kansas go by.

Dean counts it a blessing when they’re finally home. He walks up the few short steps up to their ground-floor apartment and unlocks the door. He flicks on the lights inside, and she breezes past him to toss her purse onto the couch.

Dean takes off his blazer and begins to undo the buttons on his cuffs. He watches her all the while, knowing that a storm is brewing. She shucks off her heels and slowly paces the living room on bare feet, like her whirling thoughts are fueling every step.

“All right, I give. What’s going on?” Dean asks. “What’d I do this time?”

She pauses, with her back turned to him.

Shit, he thinks. He shouldn’t have said it like that.

He prepares for the inevitable blow up, but it never comes. Lisa just heaves a sigh. Slowly she turns, and Dean’s shocked and dismayed to see the tears welling up in her deep brown eyes. He makes quick strides toward her, but she raises a hand to keep him at bay.

“Dean, when you picture yourself happy, truly happy,” she says. “Is it with me? Can you imagine yourself marrying me? Buying the house, having kids, growing old together?”

If Dean was thrown for a loop before, he’s even more stunned by her question. “Lis…”

“Just be honest, for once,” she pleads. Her tears begin to brim over, but she blinks, somehow keeping them at bay.

It’s a bit too long before Dean realizes that he can’t give her an answer. At least, not the one he knows she wants to hear.

When he thinks of that picture in his mind, of course he sees his son. But the only other person Dean can imagine there beside him is…

“I…” He wills his mouth to work, but nothing else comes out.

The only face he can conjure is yours. Your eyes are warm and welcoming, your smile as bright and contagious as your laugh.

The only voice he can hear is yours, gentle and strong at the same time.

The only one he can see is you.

He knows the shampoo you use and the perfume you like to wear, how the sweet and floral scents mix together and linger in your hair and on your skin.

Even now he remembers the contours of your body, and how it could fit so well against his. He knows that you used to try and hide your shape under loose, baggy shirts and cargo pants that did nothing for you. He knows how much courage it took you to wear that red dress to his brother’s party, because you told him once, at one of those Sunday dinners at your parents’ house.

Come to think of it, there’s not a whole lot that Dean doesn’t know about you, except maybe what you see when you look at him.

“You love her,” Lisa finishes for him. “I think you always have.”

Dean’s throat tightens. Somehow he swallows anyway, and he shakes his head. 

“Lisa, I loved you.”

“Maybe you did, in your own way,” she says, laughing a little through her tears as she wipes them away. “But you already have a family, Dean. Go fight for it.” 

Dean doesn’t know what to say, but he knows what he can do.

He goes to her and kisses her cheek. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says. 

Lisa merely nods, wiping her face dry. She watches Dean Winchester walk out of her apartment, and out of her life for good this time. 

Dean calls your cell, but it goes to voicemail. He drives all the way back to the restaurant and doesn’t find you or Benny there. 

Dean realizes that what he’s doing, what he plans to do, is not fucking cool. He wouldn’t blame you or even Benny for being severely pissed when Dean shows up. He also knows that he can’t let another day pass where he keeps lying to you, and himself. 

He eventually finds you at home. What’s weird is that Benny’s truck isn’t in the driveway—just your car. He knocks on your door, and he waits.

He unconsciously holds his breath while he waits in that terrible existence of limbo. However, his heart thrums back to life when he hears your footsteps drawing closer to the door. Anticipation, excitement, dread, it all roils together inside him like a bad cocktail as the door swings open.

And he’s once again rendered a bit breathless at the sight of you in that dress. The color alone appeals to him, let alone the way it accentuates your every curve, from full breasts to the swell of your hips, the softer slope of your thighs, and bare toes painted. You’re fucking delectable, every curve, and a temptation without you even meaning to be. 

You’re just…you’re still so goddamn beautiful, like the night he first saw you. Even now, he can almost feel the give of your thighs under his hands, his fingers pressed to supple flesh. 

But then he’s drawn to your face, and your wide eyes full of surprise. Your mascara is a bit smudged though. Your eyes are red too, like you’ve been crying. His brows furrow in concern.

“Dean, what’re you doing here?” you ask.

“I need to talk to you, but uh…did something happen?” he asks. “You okay?”

You’re reluctant to tell him. Did Benny say something to upset you? Or was it something he did?

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say.

Instinctively, Dean knows it’s a lie.

“This isn’t a good time though,” you say, after clearing your throat. “Can we do this tomorrow, maybe?”

Dean leans a hand on the doorframe.

“Please, it’s important,” he says. His eyes implore you harder than his words. Please.

That does it. A sigh passes through your lips, but you let him in. He knows Robbie is with your parents for the night, which actually makes this easier.

Once he steps inside the apartment, Dean does notice that your bedroom door is open. Half the drawers to your dresser are open too, and empty. Certain frames that used to be on your coffee table are no longer there, like the one of you, Benny, and Robbie on a camping trip. 

“You want some coffee, or soda?” you ask. 

Dean declines and grasps your arm before you can busy yourself into “hostess” mode. He leads you to the couch, where you both sit down together.

“What happened tonight?” he asks. “Where’s Benny?”

Your lower lip wobbles, the beginning of your telltale cry face. Dean knows his son gets it from you, and it always breaks his heart. He squeezes your arm gently, trying to ground you.

“Benny proposed to me tonight,” you confess, taking in a sharp breath. “He proposed, and I couldn’t give him an answer.” 

You shake your head as the tears sting hot in your eyes. 

“He got so upset, he just—he left!” You throw your hands up. “But honestly, I don’t blame him.”

Dean tries to comfort you as you try and fail to wipe at your face. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, cupping your cheek to brush the tears away himself. 

“Why couldn’t you answer him?” he asks. 

You look up at Dean, and you finally notice the shine of hope in his eyes. Dean touches your cheek more tenderly. 

“Does it mean I have a chance here?” he asks.

Despite what your eyes tell you, you still gape at him in shock. “What? But…what about Lisa?”

“It’s over. For good this time,” Dean shakes his head. “I realized what I wanted for my life, and where my heart is…”

And he chuckles weakly. “Truth is, you’ve had it the whole time, sweetheart.”

You begin to crumble all over again. You pull away from him and his touch, because you can’t believe it. You cover your face with your hands, sniffling as you try to make sense of his words, his touch, and the warm flutter threatening to brim happiness in your heart.

“God, Dean. You can't just..."

"I mean it," he insists.

You're still reluctant to take him seriously...no matter how much you want to. It's a conflicting realization that hurts, and makes you feel stupid for taking so long to figure it out, and makes you hate yourself for hoping his words are true.

"Come the morning, you’re going to change your mind,” you reason, without looking at him. “Like you’ve done with Lisa a thousand times.”

“No,” Dean says firmly. He shifts closer and prompts you to look at him, really look at him.

“Not about this, and you know it,” he says, catching and holding your gaze. “That’s why you couldn’t say yes to Benny. Because you know what we’ve got. It’s the real deal.”

You still look uncertain, even though you can’t bring yourself to pull away this time. Dean has always had this way of looking into the very depths of you, like he can actually see every thought as it passes through your mind.  

“I should’ve said yes,” you say. “I can rely on Benny. I know he would stay by my side, and…and I know he won’t hurt me.”

Not like I’ve just hurt him, you think. Guilt still pricks at your heart. The last thing you ever wanted to do was lead him on, and yet, that’s what you’d done, wasn’t it? You thought you had loved him. You’re sure that you did, but maybe it just wasn’t the kind of love that could reach down deep and grab you, set your blood on fire, and make you ache when the burn was gone.

That spark licks across your skin when Dean takes your hands.  

“What if I want to be that guy for you,” he says.

You allow yourself to look at him. Really look at him.

You know Dean. When he gets an idea in his head, it inhabits every bone and shred of muscle in his body. There’s no mistaking his resolve, or the steady grip of his hands over yours.

“If you let me, I’ll stay. I won’t leave you,” he says. In his eyes, there’s a firm promise. “I can be the guy you rely on. The man you can trust. The man who’s gonna love you, come whatever. Because now I know what it means. I know how it feels.”

You bite your lower lip against the smile that wants to surface.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

Dean smiles for you. “If you wanna know the truth, I’m pretty sure I’ve been loving you since the day I heard Robbie’s heartbeat for the first time.” 

Your tears flow harder at that. A shaky breath escapes you, though it does nothing to steady you. Dean strokes your cheek gently with his thumb. 

“Please, just give me this one chance,” he asks. Begs, really. 

He doesn’t have to though. You nod, just a little. 

“Okay,” you agree. “Let’s try.”

Dean smile spreads slow, but warm across his face. It’s your favorite kind, the kind that crinkles his eyes. 

He leans in and claims your lips with his own. The passion of it is familiar, but you don't think it’s the same as five years ago. Now, there’s an underlying note of tenderness in his touch and each new way he tastes you deeper. He holds nothing back this time, and neither do you. 

Your fingers tangle in his shirt, and then in his hair as you moan into his mouth. “Dean.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he answers against your lips, though he doesn’t give you much room to keep talking.

You haven’t heard him call you sweetheart in a long time. You feel your heart knitting back together, stitch by stitch. Tears sting in your eyes anew, but you squeeze your eyes shut against them.

“I…”

You can’t even continue the breathless thought. You hold his face desperately between your hands, pressing your forehead to his for a moment as you both catch your breath. But this man is like the sweetest, most seductive vice. Now that you’ve gotten another hit, you can’t resist. You no longer want to.

His arms wrap around you more securely, and he leans in to lure you back into his kiss. His tongue breaches past your lips to curl along yours with tantalizing strokes. His hands slowly move down your back and along your waist.

“Mmm, missed the hell outta this,” he groans into your mouth. Your heart flutters again at the way he holds you, the way his big hands squeeze you and feel you.

You let him guide you down onto the sofa cushions. He slots himself between your bare thighs and runs his hand up familiar smooth skin, bunching the skirt of your dress higher as he goes. He aims to get himself reacquainted with every soft part of you that welcomes him back.

For once, the gates around your hearts swing free. 

Dean never imagined that his own son would hand him the ring he gives to his wife, but today, it just feels like symmetry. He grins and winks at Robbie.

“Thanks, buddy,” Dean says.

His son’s beaming grin is wide and toothy, but the boy takes his job very seriously and delivers the other ring to you. You smile brightly and caress his cheek after you take the shining, white gold band from him. It matches the thinner band that Dean has for you; it'll soon join the engagement ring that once belonged to his mother.

Robbie had liked Benny a lot, but he loves his dad. He’s probably the happiest person in the room to see his parents take each other’s hands in front of the minister. 

Benny is understandably absent in the chapel today. You had met with him after that night of your botched anniversary to apologize to him, and so had Dean. Benny understood. He’d admitted that in the back of his mind, he feared this might happen.

“I wouldn’t blame you for being angry with me,” you said to him. “You can even hate me if you want.” Benny gave you a wry, melancholy sort of smile. “Part of me’s still mad at you, I won’t lie…but there’s no use in it. Not even hating you.”

Even though Benny bowed out, carrying his hurt and his grief on those broad shoulders, letting you go meant letting go of a friend too. He put in his paperwork to transfer out of Firehouse 83.

As he’d told Dean himself that day, and in fact, the last words Benny said to him…

“There you go, Lieutenant. A spot’s just opened up.”

Dean didn’t want to get promoted this way. He felt guilty enough as it was, and not just for Benny leaving the firehouse. Benny recommended Dean to the Chief himself though, saying that if they were going to give someone a Lieutenant’s badge, it may as well be the guy who got a perfect score on his test, and had the natural leadership skills to boot.

To the end, Benny was a gentleman.

Now, Sam beckons his nephew over. Robbie quickly goes to his uncle’s side and puffs his little chest out as he stands proud behind his dad. 

Dean is able to take you in, your beautiful white dress, and everything about you that makes him smile…including the way you smile back at him.

Man and wife is all he hears. It’s all he needs to hear, before he’s pulling you closer by your newly anointed hand. He dips you for a thorough kiss in front of all your family and friends. 

You squeal in surprise, making Dean smile hard enough for his cheeks to hurt. Giggling hard enough to make you tremble, you raise a hand to caress his cheek. But you give him another real kiss after he guides you back up to your feet.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips. The words are just for him to hear. Dean pulls back enough to see the truth shining in your eyes. Beautiful.

“Can’t help it, right?” he teases. 

You smile in amusement, but you grab his chin and shake it. 

“You got me,” you reply. “I really, really can’t.”

Your beaming smile softens. Even though the entire room is clapping and hooting and hollering in celebration, in that moment, all you really see is Dean. 

Here in his arms, you know that this is where you were meant to end up. From now on, it’s where you’re meant to be.

AN: *dreamy sighs* From Lisa and Benny to Robbie and everything in between. Dean and the reader certainly aren't perfect, but what do you think about how their story unfolded? I truly hope you guys enjoy this one, because I've had so much fun with it. 🥰❤️❤️‍🔥

**As a reminder, One More Day (Dean x Latina Plus-Sized!Reader) comes out on 4/04 - the day after my birthday!~

Until then, please let me know what you thought of If I Stay! 😘 I might write more for these two in the future...

"Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, if I can't help falling in love with you?"

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Dean Winchester Tag List (Part 1):

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @winchestergirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl @kaleldobrev

@globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdeanwrites @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78

@waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @my-stories-vault @0ccvltism

@rizlowwritessortof @k-slla @jackles010378 @alwaystiredandconfused @nancymcl

@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx

@mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @cheynovak @jollyhunter

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @aylacavebear @jessjad

@kmc1989 @siampie @rubyvhs @masked-lost-girl @spnbabe67

@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005 @redhoodieone

[socratestheegg]

Contraversal opinion but I think when Wesker is very overwhelmed (I’m talking like incompetence from everyone, Excella bugging him every five seconds, his experiments not going his way) he goes home to his partner and gets them to lay in bed with him while he cries into their chest. 

(A/N: I have a slight headcannon that Albert is autisic/has autisic traits due to how he was raised, such as he gets overtsimuated a lot, hyperfixations, everything has to be done his way or the highway to hell, doesn't understand social cues, has a comfort person, and just idk... this is just a little whip I made, not the best, I hope its okay :?)

“Dr. Wesker, we can’t find the sample”

“We need to redo the experiments, there was an error.”

“I spilled coffee on my laptop, I need a new one.”

“We haven’t been paid for this week.”

“I need vacation time for tomorrow.”

Albert clenched his teeth, all he wanted was a coffee and now all of Tricell was trying to gain his attention. He clenched his eyes shut rubbing his forehead as he pushed through the crowd of people.

Splash!

Suddenly his white button-up was stained with the dark brown liquid, steam flowing from the material. 

“Dr. Wesker I–”

“Do you know how much this cost?” Wesker hissed.

Silence from everyone, Wesker sighed pushing past everyone, storming to his office, his safe space.

“Albert!” Excella called out, her heels clicking against the tile floor.

Wesker picked up the pace, ignoring her, trying to at least have five minutes to himself. 

“Albert! I have to talk to you!” she yelled out, picking up her pace as well.

Wesker burst through the door of his office and locked it behind him, before quickly drawing the blinds, encasing the office in the dark. 

Albert sighed picking up his desk phone and dialing the house.

“Hello, Wesker residence.” 

The maid.

“Could you please put–”

“Who is this?” the maid cut off 

“Albert Wesker. Your boss.” He snapped. 

“I’m sorry Mr. Wesker I didn’t recognize your voice on the phone–”

“Yes, yes. Now is my wife there?” 

“No, she’s out, she’s gone to–”

Albert hung up and dialed your phone.

“Albert–”

“Dearheart I–”

“Albert, my phone is about to die, can’t talk right now.” you interrupted. “Love you bye!”

The line went dead

Albert rubbed his eyes before slamming the receiver down, shattering it. 

“There you are! Now I needed to talk to you about what I’m going to wear to the gala!” Excella whined holding up two dresses. 

The first one was a red short piece, too tight even for the hanger it was on, it looked like it was something a stripper would wear before tearing off.

The second one looked like someone spray-painted a wedding dress gold.

“How did you get into my office?” Wesker growled. 

“I’m thinking the–”

“I said how did you get into my office?!” Wesker yelled.

Excella rolled her eyes dropping the dresses on the floor. “I have a spare key, god, for the future god of this world you’re not–”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Wesker snapped unbuttoning his wet shirt. 

Excella smirked watching his display, “Oh? Have you finally realised that—” Wesker threw his shirt aside, exposing his muscular body covered in bite marks, scratches, hickeys, and lipstick marks that were slightly faded.

“What have I realised?” Wesker demanded, grabbing his spare button-up from his desk drawer.

“Nothing.” Excella sighed.

And the crocodile tears started. 

Albert rolled his eyes pushing past her and storming off to his car.

When Albert walked in, he noticed your carefree demeanor, and how you radiated happiness against his awful day. 

“Albert?” you asked gently, “are you okay?” 

No response.

“Albert.” you sighed unbuttoning his shirt, slowly taking it off of him before leading him to the bedroom. You sat him down, taking off his shoes and socks. 

“Do you want a bath or a shower?” you asked.

“... shower.” Albert murmured.

“Do you want to choose dinner?” you asked again. 

He shook his head.

You nodded undoing his belt and pulling off his pants, you guided him to the bathroom letting him do his thing.

When he came out of the bathroom the bedroom was turned into a dimly lit place, his favorite takeaway on the side table. 

And there you were.

Completely naked sitting in bed with the covers pulled off, welcoming him into the bed.

Albert crawled into bed and buried his head in between your breasts, you stroked his hair as he sobbed into your chest, holding you close. 

The purest form of intimacy for him.

“I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you too.”

[anonformerpro]

Why I left the proship community, even though my stance on fiction hasn’t changed

I made an entirely new and blank blog just to write these thoughts because I didn’t feel comfortable putting it on any of my pre-existing ones. I don’t wanna be tied to anti or proship discourse on a long term basis anymore. I really wanna scream into the void and get this off my chest.

I was a super active poster in the proship positivity community and here’s why I cut that shit out. (Like I had lots of mutuals, quite a few of my posts went viral, I was well received, so on, so here’s what I sacrificed because I truly believe in what I’m saying.)

The funny thing is, my most basic opinions regarding proship stuff actually haven’t changed. I still believe in artistic freedom. I still believe that fiction doesn’t automatically effect reality (but there’s nuance and SOMETIMES it can) and I still think anyone can indulge in dark, messed up fiction to their hearts content and I still believe they shouldn’t be harassed for it. So why would I “leave” the proship community for lack of a better expression? Well, here’s the thing.

I signed up to defend FICTIONAL expression, not real life attractions to things that can’t consent (corpses, animals, children etc)

When I started seeing popular blogs on here say shit like “yeah maps are welcome as long as they’re anti-contact hehe!” I lost the plot with y’all. I signed up for FICTIONAL characters being into messed up shit, not real people. I don’t care if they’re not acting on it. I don’t want to share a space with dangerous paraphilia. I was into darkshipping as a coping mechanism for what pedophiles did to me. Why would I want to share a community with them? Sure. Not every proshipper does this from trauma but you can’t deny so many of us do. SO many of us, so don’t even try to play with me.

Before you hit me with the “well non-contact pedos/zoos/whatever are people and deserve love too!” Let’s be cold, hard and real. Those are still complicated, serious and sometimes very dangerous (often times) attractions/disorders.

Most of you aren’t therapists. Most of you are not mental health professionals or trauma experts. I’m gonna be straight forward. It’s not our place or business as random fucking fandom people to try to make a space for dangerous attractions like pedophilia and necro-shit.

“Maps, zoos, etc are welcome as long as they’re not pro contact!!” You need to be self aware. You need to realize how bad that sounds. You’re actually making it so much harder to defend yourself from being called a pedo yourself when you welcome them into your space.

Proshippers need to be better at gatekeeping. Because why I was seeing popular, well-liked blogs pushing this shit with little to no criticism?

I’ll reiterate again, and hope y’all can understand my feelings even if you don’t agree.

I signed up for defending FICTIONAL expression. Not getting mixed up with REAL pedophiles and zoophiles and so on. Alright I’ve said my peace. I loved this community until I got deep enough to see stuff like this.

[watermelonlicker]

hi my love! i just found ur blog and i think ur takes are really spot on. we think very similar ab a lot of things in terms of larry and the industry. i wanted to ask ur personal thoughts on harry and louis in terms of their management teams. what are ur opinions of their management?

also do you believe the four boys are in touch w each other, especially since liam’s passing? i wonder if they are planning to come after the industry at some point. i genuinely hope they do. i need this industry to be taken down for what they did to our sweet angels

hi cutie!!!! thank you ☺️ ☺️ i think this is definitely my outlet to rant with my pent up rage but also it’s really helping me to deal with liam’s passing ://// i’m also a yapper so this is gonna be long sorry.

so personal thoughts on their management: i think louis’ team is a bit incompetent. i don’t really understand the reason for him hiring simon jones the syco leech, but i’m also not a super pr or legal larrie. i’m more driven by spirituality and intuition and not ignoring what’s right in front of me. i also don’t understand the need to continue having him address larry or being recorded on a call with “larries” (glad i wasn’t here for that) or still allowing qs about it. i’ve seen people outside the fandom who think it makes him look homophobic, solo harries also love calling him that, and i feel gaga said it best when she explained why she didn’t address the hermaphrodite allegations. she didn’t want her fans to feel like it was something wrong even if it wasn’t true. louis having such rage over being shipped with his fellow band member? and just 1 member btw lilo and zouis also had shippers so why is larry so serious? and did we forget all the zarries?

that’s why if louis isn’t a raging homophobe (he’s not) i do feel the attacks on larries is something he has to do and i feel it’s a design to work against him since we are a lot of his support and he needs fan support to sustain himself (unlike harry who has industry backing, who is mainstream, and larries don’t even make up 10% of his support as quoted by the legend @lesbian-vodka so it’s funny how much louis’ solos think harry is only silent on larrie for money. no. he’s silent cos that’s his man and lou is better at lying) anyways, lou is also blacklisted. that’s why i do feel in my gut some of this is bigger than him and i don’t know what constraints his team has to work with considering that, i know not everyone agrees which is fine, that’s just how i FEEL!

harry’s management: they do exactly what they’ve been designed to do since he was branded the chosen one. they push him to the moon and have given him the GUISE of creative freedom over the years to keep him in line. (it does seem he’s been able to negotiate more freedom for himself with each deserved milestone but he has no control over bearding. the olivia wilde apocalypse showed you that). i hope with his time off he’s cleaning house like the rumors are saying and he returns to music on his COMPLETE AND UTTER terms without any of this image shit. the system’s chosen one going to war the way michael jackson went to war with sony is the dream (but never gonna happen cos we know what happened to mj, but also shouldn’t that make you think? the KING OF POP went to war with sony and ended up slandered and dead?) again this is bigger than us and them, louis told us it’s bigger.

finally, i believe the people who manage harry are monsters. i only trust his stylists, make up team, and touring band. i don’t trust any of the celebs around him and i think people have taken advantage of his kindness for years. i particularly have had my third eye on jeff azoff since i was 12. during the take down of diddy last year i read up on his father irving who is the devil incarnate too. the fact jeff befriended an 18 year old harry when he was 26 felt intentional. isolation and grooming tactics are an industry mo allegedly from what i’ve read whistle blowers say about irving and him being the protégé of lew wasserman, another demon.

and for the last qs, the boys are deff in contact <3. zayn is healing so much and the fact he made peace with louis shows how much he doesn’t want to stay broken anymore. I’M SO PROUD. and 1000% agree!!! i’m manifesting they can take simon down or at least be able to speak their truths. if anyone has the power to make the masses listen, it’s them. (which is why simon and his minions want to keep them silenced.)

[lunarzomb]

Lottie is having a psychotic breakdown- we literally just heard the voices in her head right before cannibal karaoke.

Misty destroyed the blackbox because she was getting praise.

Misty does this at the beginning of the crash, Lottie axed the hiker towards the end of their ordeal because it’s the fall and we know they are rescued in the winter.

That’s not the same.

One is in complete control of their faculties, she knows not to tell anyone about the blackbox because they will react negatively. When she finally does, the person predictably reacts negatively and threatens to expose what she did, Misty reacts by murdering her and creates a cover story about that on the spot.

The other is a diagnosed schizophrenic off of her meds, that has been micro dosing with shrooms. That thought what she was doing is helping her friends and keeping them safe. She is sooo, so wrong about that but she can’t understand that right now because she is so mentally unwell. She’s confused about why everyone is mad at her and what she did.

That’s not to say that what Lottie did isn’t fucked up, because it is but Lottie is literally out of her mind and needs medical intervention.

I see what you’re saying!! Thank you for sharing your thoughts 🗣️ (truly). I understand how my post may have come off as me simplifying all of the factors that played into Lottie doing what she did to that hiker (cause it was mostly meant to be a joking/not super serious post). BUT! I think you explain it well here, and I agree with what you’re saying about Lottie for the most part.

I’m not really sure why you brought up Misty breaking the black box near the beginning vs Lottie killing that guy closer to when they get rescued? I just don’t see how that would be a factor that at all maters for what you’re trying to say. It’s not like either of them knew when they were going to get rescued. Maybe you meant that it’s significant to the audience? I’m not sure.

And, I can understand why other people would think that Misty destroying the black box what because she was getting praise. I just happen to have a different opinion on her backstory and her motivations that influence her choice to break the black box in that moment. I headcanon that Misty was a CSA survivor and that she was severely emotionally neglected by her parents. Plus I think that she’s never truly been accepted anywhere, she’s never had a close relationship to anyone, and she’s been bullied since she was little. I also think she’s somewhere on the spectrum. To me, those headcanons are very real and they influence my interpretation of Misty breaking the black box. To me, Misty broke the black box not only because she knew in the wilderness she would be safe from the person who sexually assaulted her, but also the fact that this is the closest Misty has ever been to being equal to her peers. She’s finally able to fit in more than she ever has at home, in a way where she can help others and be useful and have a purpose. I also don’t agree that Misty was “fully in control of her faculties” when she broke the black box. But, I understand why you brought that up, cause it’s how you interpret her as a character. I do respect your interpretation, mine just happens to be different.

The only thing I don’t 100% agree with you on Lottie is your interpretation of her intentions when she killed the hiker. I can see why you think that she did it to “protect her friends” and stuff, but personally I interpreted her killing the hiker because she didn’t want them to get rescued, she knew these people were a threat to that, so she killed one of them when she got the chance. To me it seems like Lottie is one of the girls that is okay with how they’ve been living and doesn’t really want to go back. At least, not as much as most of the others do.

But, that’s my opinion!! Really trying to stress that this is just my interpretation, and I respect your interpretation!! I don’t think it’s “wrong” just because it isn’t mine !!

Anyway, thank you for you thoughts/input anon!! I hope you have a good day/night.

[bmgmw]

Do you have a theory for 814/815??

For 911? Hmm well we know it’s called Sick Day. We know there’s that picture/still of most of the 118 (minus Eddie and Hen) and Athena looking at an emergency (and Buck is out of uniform). We also know from a recent Aisha interview that in 813 “they’re going to try to break Hen’s heart” so she might still be getting over in 814 whatever happens in 813. We also know 814 has explosions, rooftop scenes, military, fbi, cops, scenes at USC.

I guess for now my crazy 814 theory is that Buck takes a sick day (hence the title and why he’s not in uniform when he shows up to the emergency eventually).

Then the emergency happens—my best guess is a big explosion of some sort that leads to a biochemical spill and crazy fires. FBI and military would be there because they would need to determine if it’s a terrorist attack. Tommy being there for air firefighter coverage would also make sense. And biochemical spill could make people sick (tying into the Sick Day title).

Someone said bc Eddie is not physically in 8x11 that 8x14 is actually his 100th episode, so I wouldn’t put it past Tim to mark the occasion with an Eddie NDE. Especially knowing the director for 8x14 also directed 4x13…

Maybe unpopular opinion but I don’t think Eddie is officially back to LA in 8x14. I think he is *in* LA but not moved back. My theory is Eddie goes back to LA to visit and/or take care of some business stuff. Maybe he needs to get his will out of his safety deposit box so he can bring it to Texas and make sure it’s in line with Texas regulations…who knows (I just feel like this would be a good ep for the will to get brought up again)

But regardless I think Eddie gets caught up in the emergency and we get an Eddie NDE, which I think leads to that audio clip of presumably Buck crying.

I could also see Buck maybe not initially knowing Eddie is in town but can’t get a hold of him so he calls other Diaz family members in Texas who are like “he’s in LA, didn’t he tell you?” which sets Buck’s Eddie alarms off and he goes off to go try to find him with Athena (and then he finds Eddie in the NDE situation).

8x15 would be the resolution of the major emergency and Eddie recovering (similar to 4x14) and maybe Buddie canon (I know that’s ambitious and popular theories are Buddie canon in 8x18 but Tim did describe 8x14 and 8x15 as feeling finale-like even though they’re not finales).

Bonus if Buddie canon in 8x15 leads to secret relationship era (maybe keeping things quiet until Eddie is back and settled) and 8x18 is when they’re official to everyone.

I’m totally spit balling but I feel like Tim has been taking a lot of hetero romance tropes and applying them to Buddie already so what’s a few more?

[war-in-time]

You’ve expressed like all of the opinions I’m too afraid to post about sotr on here and I want to say thank you! I feel like I’m going crazy seeing everyone talk about how great Lenore dove was when she barely had anything that made her distinct from Lucy gray. Haymitch just tells us about how good and perfect she is and all we really get is that she hates the capitol and keeps secrets from him? But she’s his whole motivation and purpose in life? Idk his obsession with her just didn’t make sense and people make the excuse of young love and teenagers but idk I’m not buying it.

I also HATE how they make him using the force field to win something he did by accident rather than a calculated move. He literally doesn’t remember the force field until after the axe goes over the edge. Like the capitol edit propaganda made him seem more like a rebel than he actually was? I also get the idea of wanting to show how long the rebellion has been working behind the scenes but it would’ve been so much better to see how their individual traumas drew them together. Like I hate that Haymitch only continues with the rebellion because of his dead girlfriend (who gives very manic pixie) rather than because he truly believes in making sure no other child suffers his trauma. I just don’t understand why they got rid of his intellect and just made him a soldier of the rebellion following orders.

I get the themes of propaganda and whatever but it falls flat for me when the story given to us by the capitol is so much more compelling as an example of the early days of the rebellion. The best parts of this book were the side characters like I was mostly reading for Maysilee and Wyatt. They were the saving grace.

Idk I have so many thoughts, sorry that was long lol just had to vent to someone else who is capable of seeing that this book is deserving of some criticism!

I’m really glad to see that others share the same opinion but I’m also not surprised that more people aren’t posting about it. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m older and have learned to deal with conflict without escalating to calling people names for their opinions, which unfortunately does happen on the internet often where people hide behind anonymity. (You’re fine this isn’t a jab.) I also have an English/Literacy degree so I’m not posting anything simply to hate on a book or an author. What I do have is extensive training for breaking text apart to analyze it and think critically about whether or not what we are being presented makes sense or is plausible with an already established story.

I’m also someone who cares about books deeply and Haymitch has always been my favourite character in the original series because of all of his trauma and how he doesn’t want to pass that on to anyone else. He drinks and suffers in silence because the pain of ALL of the people he’s lost has stacked up over 24 years before the 74th games. Katniss has a very good insight into Haymitch’s life in the first book:

But secretly I'm wondering if Haymitch sobered up long enough to help Peeta and me because he thought we just might have the wits to survive. Maybe he wasn't always a drunk. Maybe, in the beginning, he tried to help the tributes. But then it got unbearable. It must be hell to mentor two kids and then watch them die. Year after year after year. I realize that if I get out of here, that will become my job. To mentor the girl from District 12. The idea is so repellent, I thrust it from my mind (HG.306).

I think of Haymitch, with all his money. What did his life become? He lives alone, no wife or chil- dren, most of his waking hours drunk. I don't want to end up like that (HG.311).

His character has changed so completely to someone I don’t recognize in sotr and all of this was done to simply include a 16 year old girlfriend 24 years dead. Haymitch never needed a girlfriend to be obsessed over for he rest of his life to explain why he was single when we know from Katniss’ own fears and Haymitch’s personal experiences why he never found a wife or had kids; his own family was stripped from him as punishment and being a victor does not guarantee your children’s safety.

So how is 25 years of mental exhaustion and pain not enough of a motivation for him to rebel against the Capital with everyone else? Why add Lenore that not only strips his motive away but also his lived experiences? I’m not even going to get into all the propaganda stuff because it’s all badly done/stupid since we know the Capital is already chock full of propaganda.

I feel like we could have very plausibly gotten a novel based on early days of the rebellion but it could never be Haymitch’s games. It actually would have been a lot more compelling and make more sense plot wise I’d say we had: a book set maybe on the 60th hunger games?

A set of tributes from district 12, we’d get to see Haymitch relatively towards the earlier days of his mentoring career (maybe see how his mental state is doing and how he’s slowly deteriorating with the loss every year). Have these two tributes be an early spark for the rebellion. Maybe they could do something like trying to blow up an arena in their games and Snow has them targeted and killed (like he would have with Haymitch in sotr if he didn’t have plot armour).

We know district 12 hadn’t had a single victor in between Haymitch, Katniss and Peeta. So show us a book where we know for the entire time that we’re reading it that the tributes whose point of view we are focusing on are not going to win. Show us how another death impacts Haymitch and maybe after 10 years of watching two kids die he locks himself in his house and drowns himself with alcohol.

The thing is a good story does still exist in this universe, but the author has given up.

[ds0408]

Fractures in the Foundation

Tags: [mlw] [angst] [slight fluff] [panic attack] [best friends] [comfort] [Umbridge era] [Weasley family dynamics] [stress] [emotional breakdown] [Fred Weasley needs a hug]

Word Count: 2,031

Fred Weasley was tired. Bone-deep, soul-crushingly exhausted.

He'd grown used to balancing things—pranks and punishments, schoolwork and scheming, mischief and mayhem. But lately, it wasn’t just about finding the next big laugh. It was about surviving.

Ever since Harry had announced that Voldemort was back, Hogwarts had become a battlefield. Not with wands or curses—no, that would’ve been easier. Instead, it was words, whispers, and doubt. Slytherins sneered, Ravenclaws debated, and even among Gryffindors, there was hesitation. Umbridge’s influence spread like a sickness, twisting minds, feeding into the fear, and anyone who so much as considered standing with Harry found themselves a target.

Fred didn’t care much about people’s opinions—he knew the truth, and that was enough. But Ron? Ron took it personally.

And that was how Fred ended up in the middle of the Gryffindor common room, physically separating his younger brother from a fight that had spiraled out of control.

It had started with a few snide remarks, something about Harry being delusional, about Dumbledore feeding him lies, and then suddenly, Ron was throwing a punch. The other Gryffindor—a burly fifth-year who should’ve known better—shoved him right back.

Before Fred even thought about it, he had stepped between them, shoving Ron back with one hand and holding the other boy at arm’s length.

"Enough," Fred snapped, his voice sharper than usual. "Are we really doing this? Fighting each other when there’s a literal psychopath out there gathering an army?"

Ron was fuming, chest heaving, fists still clenched. "Tell him that!" he spat. "Tell him to stop acting like Harry’s making this all up!"

"I’m just saying," the fifth-year argued, still glaring, "we haven’t seen anything. You expect us to believe You-Know-Who is back just because Potter says so?"

Fred's patience, already worn thin, finally snapped. "Believe whatever the hell you want," he said coldly. "But if you think turning on your own house is the way to go, then you’re just as bad as—"

He cut himself off, jaw tightening.

As bad as Percy.

The words went unspoken, but they hung in the air like a curse.

Ron’s ears were burning red, but the fight had left his eyes. He gave one last glare before stomping up to the boys' dormitory, shoving past the people who had gathered to watch. The fifth-year huffed but backed down as well, muttering under his breath before retreating.

Fred stayed rooted in place, his fingers curled into fists at his sides. He could feel the weight of the stares, the hushed murmurs. He didn’t care.

What he did care about was the pressure in his chest, the way his throat felt tight, the way the walls seemed to close in around him.

George had been at his side during the argument, but he didn’t say anything now. Maybe he knew. Maybe he felt it too—the weight of holding everything together, of keeping their family from fracturing any more than it already had.

Fred exhaled sharply and turned on his heel, leaving the common room without another word.

You found him in the Astronomy Tower.

It was late—too late for anyone to be wandering around without the risk of detention. But you knew Fred better than most. You knew when he was itching for trouble and when he just needed to breathe.

Tonight was the latter.

He was leaning against the railing, staring out at the darkened grounds. His usual easy smirk was gone, replaced with a furrowed brow and a clenched jaw.

"You’re gonna give yourself wrinkles," you teased lightly, stepping beside him.

His lips twitched, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. "That’s the least of my problems, love."

You didn’t push. Not yet. Instead, you leaned against the railing too, letting the silence settle.

Finally, after what felt like ages, he exhaled. "I can’t do this anymore."

Your stomach twisted at the quiet admission. "Do what?"

"This," he gestured vaguely. "Being the one who keeps it together. Mum’s a wreck, Dad’s always at work, Bill and Charlie aren’t here, Percy won’t even answer us, and now I have to be the one to make sure Ron and Ginny don’t fall apart too." He let out a humorless chuckle. "Merlin, even George and I—it's like no one listens to us unless we’re yelling or pulling a prank."

Your chest ached at the frustration in his voice.

"You shouldn’t have to do it alone," you said softly.

Fred scoffed. "Yeah? And who else is going to step up? Everyone else is too busy either pretending nothing's wrong or losing their minds over it."

He ran a hand down his face, his breathing turning shallow. "I just—I can't keep pretending it's fine. I'm tired. I'm so bloody tired, and no one sees it."

Your hand found his, squeezing gently. "I see it."

His fingers tightened around yours like a lifeline.

For a moment, it was silent again, the tension between you almost suffocating. And then—his breathing hitched.

At first, you thought it was a sigh. But then his shoulders trembled. His grip on the railing went white-knuckled. His breaths came in uneven, rapid bursts.

Panic.

"Fred," you said quickly, stepping closer. "Hey, look at me."

He didn’t. His eyes were squeezed shut, his body rigid, like he was bracing himself for something.

"Fred," you tried again, firmer this time, cupping his face in your hands. "Breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Come on, with me."

His chest heaved, but he tried. He matched your rhythm, though each inhale still stuttered.

"That’s it," you murmured. "You’re okay. You’re not alone."

His eyes finally opened, glassy and red-rimmed. He looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him from shattering entirely.

You gave him a small, reassuring smile. "There you go. Better?"

He nodded weakly, though he still looked drained. "Yeah," he mumbled. "A bit."

Without thinking, you pulled him into a hug. He didn’t resist.

For someone who always carried himself with such ease, with such laughter and bravado, Fred melted into you like he’d been holding himself together for too long. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his face buried in your shoulder.

"You’re not in this alone, Fred," you whispered. "You have me. You have George. You have your family, even if it doesn’t always feel like it."

He let out a shaky breath. "Thanks," he murmured, voice muffled. "For this. For being here."

You smiled softly, running a hand through his hair. "Always."

The road ahead was still uncertain. The war loomed, Umbridge tightened her grip, and the weight on Fred’s shoulders wouldn’t disappear overnight.

But in this moment, in the quiet space between exhaustion and comfort, he allowed himself to rest.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough. A/N GUYS WHO SHOULD I WRITE ABOUT NEXT???

[gilverrwrites]

@lordedicus as promised: DC x PJO: The Rogues and their Godly parents. Some of these have sounder reasoning than others, but I’m just here to have fun so most of them are just based on vibes and what I remember from reading mythology books and later the PJO book when I was young. If you have alternative opinions, please voice them, I wanna know.

Leonard Snart (Captain Cold): So, there is Boreas, the god of winter and cold. He is strong and short-tempered. He’s not an unfitting figure.

But…

And hear me out here, Zeus. Cause, Zeus is basically the Captain of Olympus. As the god of the skies and storms, he, too, is linked to the cold. He’s mature, but emotional, and while Zeus may not have been loyal to his wife, he did protect and care for his family. He’s the god of hospitality after all, and Len does have a tendency for taking in and helping out strays.

I know why Riordan did it, but the Zeus cabin really should have been the home of unclaimed demigods.

Lisa Snart (Golden Glider): So, if we’re sticking with Boreas for Len, then Lisa could be the daughter of any of the 3 winds, probably Notus. But that’s boring and Lisa is her own character, so…

We could be lazy and say Chrysus, the god of gold, riches, and divine radiance.

Or, and this is the hill I’m fighting for: Apollo. Lisa is the warm and the sunny to Lens cool and dark. She is a performer, and Apollo is the god of dance and music.

Mick Rory (Heat Wave): There’s no way ya’ll didn’t see the god of fire coming: Hephaestus. For the obvious reason, yes, but also because Hephaestus is the god of crafts and blacksmithing, and Mick makes all his own weapons.

James Jesse (Trickster): Arguments to be made of Apollo, but my answer is Hermes. The messenger who breaks boundaries and travels between worlds both good and evil, AKA, James has worked on both sides and everywhere in between. Hermes is also infamously a cunning, trickster character. Both are synonymous with thievery, wit, and showmanship. Oh oh oh, and flying shoes!!!

Axel Walker (Trickster II): Depending on who’s writing him, Axel has grown, at least somewhat since his conception, but ultimately, he got where he is today for the thrill of it. Pre-rogues he was drinking and getting high, committing vandalism, making snuff films, and he didn’t even need to, he’s a trust fund baby - a neglected one, yes, but the fact remains! Dionysus, the god of festivity, madness, drama, ecstasy, and so, seems fitting, especially because there is more to both of them than their reputation presents.

Sam Scudder (Mirror Master): The main concepts that come to mind for me when I think of Sam are superstitions and vanity. Neither of these concepts are solidified in any of the Greek Gods. The closest things that comes to mind for me would be Eris, who was born of chaos, which is not unfitting seen as Sam tactically thrives in discord.

She is also the mother of Pseudologoi, the spirits of falsehood and lies, which are often deemed and the closest thing Greek mythology has to superstition, and even on their own, are not not applicable to Sam.

Evan McCulloch (Mirror Master): There is a burning in this man’s soul that no amount of cocaine, money, therapy, anything could temper. He is full of passion that he desperately wants to stamp out, emotions that he doesn’t want to feel. He’s angry. Which is why the god of riots, rebellion, and uprising: Ares seems right. This is in addition to his being a mercenary, a very good one at that.

Digger Harkness (Captain Boomerang): is a child of Eros. Not because he’s a matchmaker or a lover of love. Because he’s a marksman with an insatiable lust for self-gratification. Money, sex, booze, whatever tickles his fancy at the time.

Mark Mardon (Weather Wizard): Yes, Zeus seems the obvious choice, but if I may offer an alternative: Poseidon, the storm bringer. As ruthless and unforgiving as the sea. Willing and able to cause as much destruction as an earthquake or a tsunami. But beautiful… as deceivingly charismatic as the ocean at it’s calmest. Often motivated by loss or revenge. (See Poseidon vs Odysseus over the blinding of his son, and Mark vs the world over the murder of his brother Clyde)

Hartley Rathaway (Pied Piper): Child of Pan, amongst other things, he is the God of music - particularly but not exclusively wind instruments, as well as shepherds and flocks. I’m also inclined this way because Pan often symbolises wondering and being lost, he tends to be a very isolate character, and Hartley himself is prone to self-alienation as a defence mechanism.

Roy G. Bivolo (Rainbow Raider): It has to be Iris Goddess of rainbows, who travels on rainbows!