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grenadehearts · 12 hours ago

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the only exception.

✰ in which you've sworn off love until you meet a crimson haired boy working at a record shop, bound to show you he's the exception.

contains: fem!reader x e!kirishima, modern au, 3.9k words written + smau.

authors note: this was inspired by a request here, idk how i feel abt this fic honestly, but i wrote this fic for people who feel its hard to allow themselves to love, and or allow people in at all, to let you know its okay to love and be loved <3 masterlist link here. i just noticed there's a typo in the smau so ignore!! pls

You were thrilled—a new record shop was opening in your small town. One that exclusively sold rock and alternative pop music. Or, to put it in simpler terms, 2000s emo rock.

Growing up with teen parents who never really matured meant a constant cycle of breakups and angsty rock music playing between those breakups. So, at a young age, you fell in love with that sound. Your mom’s favorite was Evanescence, which she would blast while driving through forested backroads, gripping the wheel a little too tight and muttering, "Love is fake." Occasionally, she'd swerve just enough to make your heart lurch before throwing out a warning—"Never let a man into your life."

As for your dad? Well, he was always a piece of shit. But at least he had good taste in music, which you inherited. Regardless, you swore love wasn’t real and that you’d never let anyone in.

Now, here you were—eighteen and in a completely new town. A small one, no less, which only made your craving for city life worse. Not that you’d ever been privileged enough to get a taste of the things you wanted. That was a fact you learned young, growing up with parents who liked to forget they had a kid, too caught up playing teenagers and chasing each other down.

You had to grow up fast. Which, on paper, sounded like a good thing. In reality, it just left you stuck—unable to fit in anywhere, permanently annoyed by people your age. They all acted like spoiled children, crying over the dumbest things. Meanwhile, you already had your hands full with two actual children at home—your parents. So, you stopped trying. Being alone suited you just fine.

Now, in this small town filled with people you were sure you’d dislike, you told yourself it was okay. At least it was away from everyone back home.

The tiny record shop came into view, and as you pushed open the door, a soft jingle announced your arrival. You were immediately met with shelves of CDs and vinyl records—every band you had ever loved, from My Chemical Romance to Sleeping With Sirens, from Avril Lavigne to Paramore. The walls were plastered with patches, horror film posters, band posters, and concert tees. Dim lighting cast deep shadows, red LEDs glowing against the walls, broken up only by neon signs and the soft streams of sunlight filtering through the glass windows.

Before you could even start browsing, a figure stepped in front of you—a tall, muscled guy with spiky crimson hair. His piercing eyes had the faint smudge of reddish eyeliner beneath them, and his sleeveless shirt did little to hide his build. He flashed a grin, teetering on the edge of a smirk, revealing teeth that were just a little too sharp.

"Need any help looking?"

You barely glanced at him before brushing past. "No, thank you."

But he didn’t take the hint. A moment later, he was right back in front of you, leaning across the record bins to meet your eye level.

"Hey, wait—I’ve never seen you around here."

You looked up, unimpressed, one brow raised. "Do you work here or something? Because a customer just walked in." You nodded toward a group of angsty middle schoolers wandering in, skateboards in hand.

The guy let out a dramatic sigh, running a hand down his face. "Ugh okay—wait right here. I’ll be right back."

Thankfully, you were able to find the CD you wanted—Brand New Eyes by Paramore. As you walked up to the now-empty counter, a group of middle school boys shuffled past, laughing among themselves. The red-haired man from earlier was still there, and the moment he saw you, he grinned.

"See? You didn’t wait."

You gave a slight smile. "Did you really think I was going to?"

He laughed—a deep, reverberating sound that seemed to shake something loose inside you. For a moment, it stunned you.

"No," he admitted, still grinning. "But I had hope."

You gave no real reaction, aside from the briefest flicker of surprise. His laugh made you feel—warm, like being wrapped in honey and laid to rest beneath soft petals. A feeling you weren’t quite prepared for.

"Why’s that?" you asked.

He looked slightly taken aback, his expression shifting to something almost… puppy-like in confusion. Then, as if suddenly self-conscious, he rubbed the back of his neck, exposing the flex of his toned arms.

"Not every day you see a girl as pretty as you, y’know?"

You let out a full-bodied laugh, the kind that shook through you, because really? The sheer audacity of this man. He actually believed that would work? Like he could just say something like that and expect you to melt?

Through a breathless chuckle, you tilted your head. "You really got me with that one, big guy. Let me guess—you say that to every girl who walks in here, huh?"

But he didn’t respond.

Instead, he just stared. Captivated. Mesmerized. The sunlight caught your frame in a way that seemed to make him forget himself. The way your eyes crinkled when you laughed. The way your nose scrunched in mock disgust when you called him out. He should back off, he really should. But instead, words slipped from his mouth like a secret he hadn’t meant to spill.

"Your laugh is beautiful."

The comment halted you.

Despite everything—despite your reservations about love, despite how utterly ridiculous this was—you were still human. And humans had weaknesses. So, much to your own frustration, a faint blush crept onto your cheeks.

"Yeah, whatever," you muttered, placing your CD on the counter.

As he reached for it at the same time you let go, your fingers brushed—just the lightest touch, fleeting and accidental. But you pulled your hand back quickly, like you’d been burned.

Or maybe… not burned.

Because the touch didn’t sting. It felt soft, like the featherlight kisses your mother used to press to your forehead before bed. Like the quiet hum of something electric beneath your skin.

He grinned, all bright and boyish. Something about it made you feel like a kid again. "Paramore, huh? I’ve been meaning to listen to them."

You nearly jumped over the counter in sheer disbelief. "You’ve never listened to Paramore?! How?"

He just chuckled. "I’ve been wanting to—I just don’t know where to start." Then, with a teasing grin, he added, "Got any recommendations?"

You forced yourself to compose your excitement, clearing your throat. "Yeah. I grew up on their music—pretty much any rock and alternative, actually."

That seemed to intrigue him, because he leaned in just slightly, just enough to be a little closer to your line of sight. "Really? That’s so manly."

You blinked. "Manly?"

He let out a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, like… cool, you know? Most parents are super controlling about what their kids listen to."

You let out a quiet laugh. "Yeah, I guess. So, what have you actually listened to?"

He thought for a second. "Well, uh… not sure, really. I listened to a little MCR back in middle school, but after that…" He shrugged, then gave a thumbs-up with a lopsided grin. "I’m more of a ‘whatever comes on the radio’ type of guy."

You chewed on the inside of your cheek before sighing. "Okay, well—I grew up on every band. I’ll burn you a CD." Then, pausing, you turned to him. "Wait. Do you even have a CD player?"

He hesitated. "Uh… no, but I do have a phone."

You frowned slightly. "Well, I’d hope so."

He quickly followed up, "Wait, wait—what I meant was… give me your number, and we can talk music. You know?" Then, as if realizing how that sounded, he shook his head, looking slightly flustered. "I mean, uh—that is, if you want to."

You just shook your head with a small, amused smile. "Here, give me your phone."

Taking it from him, you quickly entered your number before handing it back. He slid your wrapped CD across the counter, and as you grabbed it, you turned to leave.

You were halfway out the door when you glanced back, calling over your shoulder, "Just music, mister. Nothing else."

His grin widened, all teeth. He gave you a playful salute. "Yes, ma’am."

Stepping out into the cold, the air bit at your skin—like it was trying to wash away the warmth still clinging too closely to your heart from that damn crimson-haired man.

As you neared your apartment, you reached into the flimsy plastic bag, fingers brushing against the wrapped CD. But something else was there, too. A small note.

It had a doodled shark on it.

And beneath that, scribbled in casual handwriting:

On the house.

The air was cold, biting through the fabric of your long-sleeve shirt. A thick fog hung in the early morning air, shrouding the quiet streets in an eerie stillness. Snow blanketed the ground, shimmering like a thousand fallen crystals under the faint glow of streetlights. It was too early for most people to be out, leaving you alone with your thoughts as you made your way to the record store.

And maybe that was for the best.

Because, yeah, you were meeting up with a guy—one you didn’t want to admit was attractive, whose touch ignited something in you, a heat that curled in your chest like smoke, dangerous if you inhaled too deeply. Yet, despite everything, here you were. Allowing yourself, even if just slightly, to be in someone else’s presence—something you had always avoided.

What you could ignore was how right it felt. How it didn’t feel wrong at all.

You told yourself over and over again that it was just about music. Just conversations about records and artists. But even as you repeated the excuse in your head like a mantra, your feet had a mind of their own, carrying you into a familiar coffee shop. Your usual order rolled off your tongue before you even thought about it, but your gaze drifted to the menu, scanning for something he might like.

And then you saw it—protein hot chocolate.

By the time you reached the record store, the snowflakes had settled in your hair and clung to the fuzz of your jacket. You pushed the door open with your fluffy boots, the bell chiming overhead. Almost instantly, Kirishima emerged from the storage room, his expression shifting from surprise to mild concern.

“Why didn’t you text me? I would’ve opened the door for you,” he said, gesturing to your hands—full with drinks. “Y’know, because it’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

You shook your head, sending a few stray snowflakes tumbling to the floor. “I’m used to taking care of myself,” you said simply, then held out the drink. “Here. This is for you.”

His eyes lit up as he took it, grinning wide. “For me?” He took a sip, then paused, his face breaking into an even bigger smile. “Dude, how’d you know I always get this? You got it from the café down the street, right?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, I always go there.”

He cut in. “Me too!”

You smiled—a little shy, a little amused. “Well, I figured you’d like it. It’s got protein. Isn’t that what you gym guys are into?”

He beamed. “How’d you know I’m a gym guy?”

You giggled, tilting your head toward his arms. “Not exactly hard to guess.”

Grinning, he flexed his bicep and pressed a playful kiss to it. “Oh yeah, these babies.”

You rolled your eyes, deadpan. “Right.”

That’s when you noticed it—his outfit. Or rather, the lack of one. A simple grey tank, despite the freezing temperatures outside, left his arms bare except for studded bracelets.You raised an eyebrow and gestured toward his shirt. “Aren’t you cold?”

Kirishima followed your gaze, as if only now realizing what he was wearing. Then, with a smug smile, he shrugged. “Nah. I don’t get cold.”

You gave him a once-over, unimpressed. “Yeah, sure. Because it’s totally not snowing a ton out there.”

For a moment, he hesitated. Then, looking almost sheepish, he scratched the back of his head and muttered, “...My coat’s in the storage room.”

You nodded. “Ah.”

"Hey, uh, I got something for you yesterday."

Kirishima disappeared into the back room, leaving you standing there, curious. When he reemerged, he held a CD player in his hands.

You blinked, tilting your head. “Got a laptop?”

He grinned, holding up a hand as if to tell you to wait. "Yeah, yeah, just hang on."

A moment later, he returned with a laptop covered in Crimson Riot stickers, the red and black decals standing out against the worn metal surface. You raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in your expression.

"Who's Crimson Riot?"

His face lit up instantly, excitement bursting out of him as he launched into a passionate rant. He talked about Crimson Riot being a pro boxer—one of the manliest, most fearless fighters out there. His words tumbled over each other in an eager rush, his hands animated as he spoke. Then, as if catching himself, his voice softened just slightly.

“I, uh... I take a lot of inspiration from him,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s the reason I dyed my hair, y’know. And, well... I wanna be a pro boxer someday, so... there’s that.”

Something about the way he said it—like a secret slipping past his lips before he could catch it—made you pause.

“Really?” You smiled, the kind that reached your eyes. “I think that’s super cool. You shouldn’t downplay it, like it’s not a big deal or something.”

Your words made him stop mid-motion. His eyes flickered to you, something unreadable in his gaze before he quickly masked it with a chuckle. Walking over, he set down the laptop and a blank CD between you.

“If I didn’t know you,” he teased, “I’d say you’re getting soft on me.”

You nudged him with a grin. “Nah, never.” Then, with a playful glint in your eyes, you added, “Now, let’s burn a CD.”

As you reached for the laptop, a thought struck you. You glanced at him, head tilting. “Wait—what made you get a CD player? I thought you didn’t have one.”

His smile turned sheepish, his fingers drumming lightly against the surface of the desk. “Well… I didn’t. But I went to a shop downtown and bought one. It seemed important to you when you mentioned it earlier, so…” He hesitated for half a second, then shrugged. “And I thought it’d be fun to do together. Which, by the way, totally is.”

You looked away, suddenly very interested in the laptop, but the rosy warmth creeping onto your cheeks betrayed you. “We haven’t even started yet,” you muttered.

He dramatically waved his hands as if dismissing the thought—except his movement was a little too over-the-top, and before he could catch himself, he lost balance. With a yelp, he toppled over, landing hard on the floor. His hands shot up to his face, burying into his palms, his voice muffled as he groaned, “Yeah, but I know it’s gonna be super fun.”

You stared at him for a second before sliding down the wall beside him, the laptop balanced between you both.

“S’okay,” you said, settling in. “We can just work down here.”

“No one really comes by, right?”

He peeked through his fingers. “Yeah.”

You grinned. “Then it’s perfect. If someone does, we’ll hear the chime from the bell on the door.”

At that, he finally lowered his hands, flashing you a full, toothy grin and a thumbs-up.

After sorting out all the technical details—which took longer than expected—and carefully selecting the songs for the disc, your progress was suddenly halted by the static of the radio flickering in and out.

The lyrics to Let Love Bleed Red by Sleeping with Sirens stuttered between bursts of white noise, the words "You deserve much more, and I'll give until I’m all gone..." dissolving into a broken transmission. The melody faded completely as a sudden weather broadcast cut through.

"The snow has intensified. Conditions outside are hazardous. Residents are advised to stay indoors until the warning is lifted."

Kirishima immediately shot up, peering over the counter toward the door. You followed his movements, your heads turning at the same time until your gazes locked.

“Snowed in?” you both echoed in unison.

As if on cue, the lights flickered, the bulbs pulsing weakly as the snow and ice pressed heavily against the outside world. Then, without warning—darkness.

“Aw, crap,” Kirishima muttered, his voice fumbling through the dim light. “Hold on here, 'kay?”

You nodded, watching as he disappeared into the back. When he returned, he was holding his coat, and before you could react, he gently draped it over your shoulders. His breath ghosted across your skin, warm in contrast to the cold that nipped at you, his touch careful—deliberate.

“Don’t want you to get cold,” he murmured, his words sinking into your skin, curling around your ribs, twirling like lace around your lungs.

You both slid down onto the cold tile floor, pulling the laptop between you to finish the CD. But when you opened it, the screen remained black, a small dead battery icon blinking mockingly at you.

“Just great,” you muttered, handing it over to Kirishima. “It’s dead. And with no power, we can’t charge it.”

He gave a sheepish smile, shrugging. “Well, it’s alright. We can just talk, right?”

You glanced over at him, then exhaled softly. “Yeah, you’re right.”

For a moment, silence stretched between you, filled only by the muffled sound of wind outside. Then, his voice came, slower this time, hesitant—like he was carefully inching toward something fragile.

“What made you move here?”

You looked down at your lap, fingers fidgeting as you cleared your throat. “Wanted to be somewhere new. Somewhere no one knew me.”

His fingers tapped lightly against the tile. “Why’s that?”

You turned to face him. “Nosy?”

He shrugged. “Not usually. But something about you makes me.”

You sighed, the weight of old thoughts settling in your chest. “I wanted to get away from my parents. Plus, it’s not like I left anyone behind. You’d have to actually have friends for that.”

His expression shifted, softening into something unreadable. “It’s not that I didn’t have the option for friends. I mean, I’m sure I could’ve fit them in somewhere—between parenting my parents.” You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “But everyone around me was so childish, and I just… I just preferred my own company. So I never really sought anyone out. And when people tried to get to know me, I shut myself off.”

His hand inched across the tile, stopping just a breath away from your fingertips. A quiet hum left his lips before he murmured, “You’re letting me know you.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Shocker to me too.”

He hesitated before speaking again, this time slower, as if he wasn’t sure how the words would land.

“You know… I used to be like that. Not the same situation, but I grew up weak. And when I saw people getting treated badly, I wanted to stand up for them.” He huffed out a laugh, void of humor. “But when I tried, I realized I was weak too. People laughed in my face—like, ‘Haha, this lame dude really thinks he can take us on?’ Got me busted up a lot.” He pointed to the scar by his eyebrow, his voice quieter. “I moped. Hid from people. But then I realized—if they thought I was weak, I’d just make myself strong. And so I did.”

He glanced at you, a flicker of something vulnerable passing through his eyes before he masked it with a grin. “I mean, I still have a long way to go, but I think I’m doing a pretty good job. I mean, hey—I’m talking to a pretty girl. Old me would’ve stuttered and made a complete fool of myself.”

You laughed, nudging him lightly. “Yeah, well… you still kinda do.”

His grin faltered.

“But it’s okay,” you added, softer this time, watching as warmth crept back into his expression. “It’s… somehow cute.”

His face deepened into a shade of rouge as he buried himself in his hands, muffling out a shaky, “Hey, man, don’t say things you don’t mean.”

You laughed softly, inching closer to his aching frame, pulling his coat over both your shoulders. Your skin brushed against his—thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder—your fingertips so close that your pinkies twitched. Bathed in the dim halo of each other’s presence, the static hum of The Only Exception flickered in and out through the radio.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt young. Fresh. Like maybe love isn’t about thrashing and screaming, or hearts cracking against pavement. Maybe it’s more than that. Maybe it’s this—sitting close to another aching soul, breathing in sync. And maybe you should have realized it sooner, instead of always staring at the ground, drowning in the noise of the world. But now, with slight touches and hushed breaths, the sound has stilled. The only thing you hear is him—his breathing, soft and steady, a rhythm you wish to trace straight to his heart.

His pinkie twitches, inching closer to yours. And something inside you—something restless and yearning—claws at your chest, desperate to reach him. So you allow it. You let him link pinkies with you. You let him peer into the dim soul you hold, and in return, he lights it up with the golden glow of his own.

Breaking the fragile silence, he asks, “What’s your passion?” Then, as if nervous about sounding too serious, he quickly adds, “Ya know, like... for a job or whatever.”

You fiddle with the hem of his coat. “Writing.”

His eyes brighten as he knocks his foot playfully against yours. “That’s so cool! Writing’s something I’ve never been good at.”

You laugh. “Well, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be great at boxing, so I guess we’re even.”

A silence falls between you, comfortable yet charged. Then he tilts his head, watching you. “When do you write the most? Like, what inspires you?”

You hesitate before answering, voice quieter this time. “I only ever write when I’m falling in love… or falling apart.”

He exhales, considering. “And which one is it now?”

You let out a small, bitter laugh. “Never been in love, so… the latter, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “I could show you.”

Your breath stills. You know what he means, but you want to hear him say it. “Show me what?”

He exhales shakily, running a hand through his hair before meeting your gaze. “I just meant—I could be your muse. No, wait—that’s not right. I mean… I can—no, I will love you.” His voice cracks slightly, but he keeps going, determined. “And hopefully… over time, you’d love me too.”

Your chest tightens, breath coming out jagged in the cold air. Slowly, you turn to him, and in his eyes, you see it—your reflection dancing in the embers of his gaze.

“Guess I’ll get to writing,” you murmur.

His face lights up, but then his expression shifts into something more serious, more intent. His voice is barely above a whisper when he asks, “For which one?”

Your faces are so close now, lips brushing, breath mingling.

You smile, soft and teasing. “How about you kiss me… and maybe you can find out?”

His hand cradles your face, thumb tracing soothing circles against your cheek. And you swear, with every beat of your heart, his name is being spelled in the rhythm.

He leans in, breath ghosting against your lips, and whispers, “Only if I can take you on a real date first.”

taglist: @lotusstarr @luvseraphh @wokasiv @candiiee @xoxojisu @cvnt4him @soundtrqck @princessshnazzy @chlosology @203steph p.s sorry if anything in the fic isn't accurate.

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dgknightblue · 1 day ago

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Sam applied for colleges including ones in alternate dimensions (some have actual programs) so she could be who she is without worrying about hiding big parts of herself.

Like her liminalness and more importantly her Gothness. She picked worlds with powers so she wouldn’t be so odd and colleges in places that she would fit right in.

Three places accepted her and she decided on the one with the biggest vegan/ vegetarian community.

Danny told her that he was going to go a head of her to scope each place out to help her decision. He came back with detailed notes and pictures with help from people of the alternate dimensions.

(One college is from their world so it was the quickest but with the least to none vegan community)

So imagine a portal opens up and Danny steps out and walks around asking questions. He talks to and meets a nice guy named Tim who directs him to the college he is looking for and even offered to take him!

He gets in a car with him with no hesitation or anything (that was a little worrying for how trusting he is). They talk and he explains what he’s doing in Gotham (“that’s the name of this place? Oh of course Sam picked it besides the vegan community! Ha!”)

Tim mentions his little brother being in the same college and apart of the vegetarian community and will introduce him before touring the college. (Tim and Damian are keeping an eye on this guy with the others listening on comms.)

IDK how to turn this into Dead Serious but I like to think Danny tends to give gifts of either things he’s made or things he thinks the person would like. Mostly weapons to protect one’s self.

Anyways, Danny is asked if he will be going to college with Sam, but he just gives them a sad smile and said there wasn’t any point.

“Why?”

“Well I wanted to be an astronaut but I can’t pass the physical exam and then I couldn’t really keep my grades up I…. Don’t know what I’ll do…. It’s my own fault…. “

They call bs because he’s shown he’s very smart. They’ve already established he’s not a threat (he’s too nice and stuff), so it wouldn’t be a bad thing if they somehow helped him.

Anyways he leaves after helping him and hoping Sam picked their world and even if she didn’t, that they come visit with Danny.

———-

That’s all I can think of at the moment. Danny was completely open and honest because he thought that sense there were a lot of heroes and powered people (he cried at hearing about meta protection laws as he would classify as one and the thought of being a person again…. At his friends and family being people….. he so so so wants to visit again even if Sam doesn’t pick this place.) and that it’s safe and she would have protections…..

Stuff like that.

#au #crossover #danny phantom #danny fenton #Batman #dcu #dc x dp #tim drake #tim drake wayne #damian wayne #sam manson #sam mason #dead serious

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zepskies · 2 days ago

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Ahhh my lovely, friend! Take your time lol I know this one's a whopper. 🤣🤣 But omg I'm so interested to know which part stuck with you that much. 🥺❤️❤️

Well... It takes two to tango, buddy. I think you can lighten up lol

Right?? lmao She does set him straight on that, but we wouldn't have Dean without his self-loathing Dean Angst. 😂 (plus a tad of Ross - condoms really are little shits lmfao.)

also lmfaoooo forgive me but I'm stealing that *gasps in Spanish* gif. 🤣🤣🤣

Much like her, I fully freaked out at that part!!! Like, wtf, man!!! And all the while, my mind also went: "Well, he's surely gonna end it with Lisa now. It's the most logical conclusion." But NOPE! Our boy went a different way 😂

lolll Dean wasn't acting very rationally, was he? In the epilogue I'm currently working on for this story, I wanted to explore that a little more and give Dean more of an explanation on why he stayed with Lisa so long. I mean, I had my own HC in my mind and implied some things for readers to interpret for themselves, but you brought up SO many good points later on for the Lisa and Benny side -- you literally gave me a spark of inspiration for a scene. 😭🙏🏽

And I think it totally makes sense since he's still so freaking young!!! (He honestly reminded me of Buck in 911 lol – Idk if you watch it but he was very much a player firefighter like Dean) Essentially, they're both babies having another baby. It's already hard when you're a couple, but both of them being separate entities through this in a way makes it even harder. Although they try to be a unity, it's completely different since Dean isn't gonna be there 24/7 (which he also fully realizes the extent of it when she starts dating Benny).

Thank you so much for saying this! I probably should've defined Dean's age, but I implied that he was in his early 20s. I haven't seen 911 but I've heard of Buck! It's probably similar to Kelly Severide in Chicago Fire (early seasons)--definitely the "babies having babies" and being shit at communication because of it. 🥲

But man, I wanted to slap him left and right, shake him awake, and tell him to get his head outta his goddamn ass 😆

Oooh I don't blame you! lmfao Dean would've deserved each and every one of those slaps! That's why I don't blame some people for saying they didn't really like Dean in this. He fucked up a lot in this story, as did the reader, and really everybody, like you said. 😂

I was the exact same 😂😂 I still make my son most of his food myself instead of store bought (like apple sauce, bread, cookies etc.) ❤️

Aww I freakin' love that. 🥹 You sound like the best mom ever. 🍪🍪💕

Felt that lmao. Luckily, Robbie didn't sit on her ischiatic nerve and numbed half her leg too 🙄 I felt like a pinguin who got ran over by a truck 😂

oh dear Jesus. 😭 I was just starting to come around to the idea of having kids, but you're painting an oh so lovely picture of pregnancy, Wayne. 😆😆

Instantly knew where you were going with this. Probably the moment I started to brace myself and put my seatbelt on for this ride 🤣 Aw, poor Benny, who had probably wanted to go out with her since the wedding and then sadly realized Dean got there first 🥲

Tell me how you're picking up on things I felt subconsciously when I was writing, but didn't actually articulate in my mind until you said it lol. (Even more material for the epilogue! ❤️❤️)

Oooh, Alex, super important to know for you if you're ever going down the pregnant route: You're allowed a 12oz cup (up to 200 mg daily). Enjoy that coffee in the morning, girl 😏☕️

🫣🫣 Thank you for correcting me! lmfao I swore I thought my friend who has kids told me she cut out coffee, but she didn't have to! (Or I misremembered that one loll)

Still love that her water broke in the middle of class lmao. This was honestly a big fear of mine whenever I went outside during that last stretch 😂

Omg that would be such a fear of mine too! 😂😂

My God, I hated it so much that Lisa thought it was a good idea to come and then pick a stupid fight, drawing Dean's entire attention away from such an important moment. His sole focus should be on reader and his son atm and not on this. I felt terrible for her here 🙈💔 Dean not backing out of this relationship is one thing, but Lisa really should've ended it somewhere during reader's pregnancy or those first months after the birth. Yes, she liked him and wanted to try and make this work, but you gotta cut your losses at some point, girl, and walk away when your dignity's still intact. Even Mona broke up with Ross, and that was wild 🤣

Right?! lol Lisa wanted to be part of it, but at the same time jealous of it all and tried to draw Dean's attention that way.

Lisa really should've broken it off when Dean didn't, and this is one of those things I left up to readers to think about as to why she stayed with him. But in my mind, her reasoning was that she got hooked by Dean so much that she just wanted to make it work, despite the signs that his attention (and his heart) was divided. 😥

lol the Mona/Ross thing was SO wild. 🤣🤣 Ross would forget her literally all the time. I was honestly surprised she didn't break up with him sooner for all that! (lmfao pot-kettle-me 😆)

Maybe Dean should've asked reader to move in with him and surprised Lisa with it. Maybe that would've finally done it lol. She was resilient and hopeful till the bitter end lol ❤️‍🩹

lollll oh if only Dean would've gotten off his ass and done something about his feelings deep down! 😂

This was such a precious moment between them. Had tears in my eyes 😭😭 And then the goddamn cavalry arrives to break them apart! I hope for their second child they won't allow visitors till the next day lol 🙏

Aww thank you! That was one of my favorite moments to write tbh, as bittersweet as it is. 🥹 Oh yeah lol, for baby #2 it's just gonna be her and Dean, and maybe her mom.

Literally. How about you people just ask what momma wants, huh? I'm glad she had Dean there to support her, though 💕

He was there for her, even with all the distractions trying to pull him away! 😭

Typical Benny 🥹 This was so incredibly sweet of him and she really needed that (even if it did cross boundaries a little. At least wait till she gets home from the hospital to shoot your shot, buddy lol). He really had it bad for her, and I think that made him blindsided in that regard 💔

Oooh I love that take honestly that it was crossing boundaries a bit (he really was so into her from the beginning), but you're right that it really is what she needed in that moment. 💓

That hit so deeply 😢 I cry during that scene with Rachel every time too 😭

Literallyyyy. Rachel's conversation with Janice kicks me in the feels every time. 😭😭

That really showcased that Benny truly wasn't the one for her, no matter how nice, kind, and considerate he was. It's sad, but it happens. Her heart always belonged to Dean from that first night on ❤️ In the end, it would've been unfair to both of them (even all four of them) if they all stayed together in those pairings.

Thank you!!! That right there was the biggest clue - she just doesn't feel as comfortable with him as she does with Dean. She doesn't feel the sparks. I feel like that's something people missed about the Benny x reader relationship in this. It's "nice and safe" and supportive, but it's not the bone-deep love. "Her heart always belonged to Dean from that first night on ❤️" It absolutely would have been a disservice to all of them if things had stayed as they were.

And it's honestly not just on reader and Dean who went wrong by never admitting their feelings and talking it out like the grown-ups they aren't lol, but both Benny and Lisa are a bit selfish for staying with them as well. You can't tell me they didn't know or heavily suspect there were feelings there between them. Those two decided to butt into a young family, so they made that bed a little bit themselves, too 🤷‍♀️ Especially Benny – and hear me out, if Benny had been truly a good friend to Dean, he would've put his own feelings aside in the first place and talked some sense into him. But fair enough if he decided to go after her himself lol (I thought a lot about that specifically this week since we've talked about how Benny was a class act till the end, but honestly, this probably would've been even classier of him 🤝) I don't know why I get so defensive of reader and Dean in this story, but I was rooting for them hard 😂🩵

Honestly you don't know how much I love this analysis (and how hard you were rooting for reader and Dean ❤️❤️)!!

I definitely thought Lisa was being selfish to turn a blind eye to all the warning signs with Dean, but I didn't even think of Benny doing the exact same thing! He admits at the end that he feels this might happen, because he sees the way Dean is with the reader, and in my mind, deep known, he saw how the reader was with Dean too. He just selfishly wanted to hold on to her, hoping he'd be enough. 🥲

This really wasn't an easy request to write, now that I think about it loll. Because when I tell you what the requester wanted was so detailed with all these plot points (including Benny and Lisa, the 5 years, Lisa's ultimatum, the potential engagement, drama before it actually happens, etc.), and it was my job to try and connect it all. 😅

It's like your describing my kid lol And I love that both our HC is that Dean literally needs the threat of a proposal from another man to make a goddamn move 🤣

lollll I know, I still remember your poor bookshelves! 🤣 But it sounds like he's a mini Dean, just like Robbie. ❤️❤️

Right?? Again, great minds. 😂

Yup, makes complete sense. And again, it's on both Lisa and Benny for looking the other way here and not noticing that 🤷‍♀️ They literally accepted that Dean would just fix things in reader's home all the time etc. and it was clear both were bothered by that. Denial all around with these four 😂

For real. 😅 My HC is they both "noticed" but didn't want to admit it/looked the other way to try and maintain their relationships. If Dean x reader's biggest problem was denial and miscommunication, then Benny and Lisa's were denial and their willingness to turn a blind eye to the signs their partners had divided hearts. ❤️‍🩹

And this is the part that I thought most about. I sobbed then and I'm sobbing reading this again now. I was so incredibly heartbroken for Dean for missing out on all that shit. You just want him to have all the good things and enjoy being a dad to his heart's content, so this truly ripped me apart 😭😭😭

Omgggg you're making me tear up too, now! 😭 Yes, Dean doesn't deserve to miss out on any part of raising his son, and besides the potentially losing his chance with her forever, potentially losing a place in his son's life is the twist of the knife that Dean can't stand.

Same. Girl was committed 🤣

lmfaoooo Lisa really was like the Janice in this situation with the on again, off again shenanigans! 🤣

But the mother of his son, which makes her family... Lisa pissed me off during that scene, although I completely understand where she's coming from. Dean really broke her in a way. Still, she's known for five years what she's gotten herself into 😂

She really sucked in this scene. While you can see where she's coming from, clearly she's taking her frustrations out on the reader unfairly. 😥

I swear I wanted to murder you and Dean here, Alex, aka the part where I really thought you were going to break my goddamn heart 😂💜💜💜 I was livid with that man lmao

lmfaoo girl I don't blame you! It really is all my fault. 😜 Gotta have that "dark night of the soul" moment where it seems like all is lost...

And then that whole conversation at their parent's house!!! Fucking finally they're adressing this. Istg they better got to couple's therapy after and learn to communicate properly. Those skills are lacking with these two idiots 😅🙈

oh my God yeah. Fucking finally right? lol That's definitely going to be a subject covered in the epilogue. 😅😅

I loved how this was the scene that absolutely reached a boiling point with everyone!!! The drama queen in me was like, "Yes!! Let's go!!!" 🤣🤣👏👏

Oh it's pure rom-com drama at this point! 🤣🤣 Of course Benny's proposal gets interrupted - and omg how do you find the perfect Friends gifs for everything??!! 😍

The "for once" does it for me 💀 (And then Dean using past tense when saying he loved Lisa 🤯) I both feel for Benny and Lisa and think both of them handled the break ups incredibly well – no doubt about it. But that proves to me a little that they always knew it could end this way and just chose not to see it (even Benny admitted that at the end). Ultimately, it's a little hard for me to feel toooo awfully sorry for them, ya know? The old "you've dug your grave" story 😅

She got 'im there. 😅 Ahhh you noticed that past tense there, very intentional, even though it stings even more. 💙

Benny and Lisa really did have their own forms of denial. No one's the villain here, but no one's blameless either. 🥲 (I really appreciate you for seeing that. Not everyone did lol)

Fucking finally! 🥳 It's been a wild ride to get here, my sweet lil green-eyed idiot 💚🎢

I sobbed again during their wedding when Robbie brought him the ring and how happy he was that his parents were together 🥹

That might've been my favorite scene, other than Dean's confession. 🥹🥹 Robbie being happy to see his parents together was also something I hoped would be telling for the Benny x reader relationship too, that even reader and Dean's son was asking why they weren't together. 💕

Honestly, I said it over on Patreon, but here again too: This was such an amazing, phenomenal, and yes, dramatic ride, but it was fucking every 20k word of it (if you can't tell by this extensively long and insane comment lmao). And I can't help falling in love with you... 💜💜💜

I so appreciate you for that, Wayne. 🥹 I've been somewhat doubting myself on this story about certain things I chose to do, but you and others have made me feel more secure about the creative risks I was initially proud of. You have such an intelligent read on stories in such a fun and heartfelt way. 💕💕

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.

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's 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: From Lisa and Benny to Robbie and everything in between. Dean and the reader certainly aren't perfect in this, 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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Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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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

#lovely review! 💕💕#that's it - you need your own tag too #the wonderful wayne tag ❤️#lovely mutuals #zep replies

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goomyloid · 2 days ago

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Can you tell me about your dt player. Since from the way you portray them they aren’t meant to be you. Kinda your oc in a way huh. It’s a cool depiction so that’s why I’m curious.

well today is your lucky day because i literally just filled out this chart right before answering this:

basically my version of them is thoroughly mentally disconnected from all consequences, because everything is just a game to them.

apathetic with only the desire to see what happens, and what becomes of kris and noelle (in the weird route). They always just barely have the upper hand; if things don't proceed down a certain path (i.e. aborted weird route or something) it's only because they allowed for it to happen. kris is very smart, but 'our' knowledge just objectively surpasses theirs in every way. for the most part.

i guess if i had to describe them as a real-life player, it would be the kind of person that plays all the routes without feeling bad about it, someone that somehow doesnt feel as though they're entirely to blame for the story going this way. (they taunt kris over this, maybe just to pick at their brain to get a look of how they're feeling about all of this.)

after all, deltarune is a game. it's meant to be played, it's only natural that people will want to pick it apart inside and out with its level of popularity. nothing should make a player feel bad about playing the game that they bought and spent time on.

regardless of one's investment in the characters, the world is simply not real to us. but in terms of vessel specifically talking to kris or something, it's not like THEY'RE the one saying "kris you're not real lol" or anything like that, it's more so their existence as a 'watcher' of sorts outside the bounds of comprehensible reality renders them in a similar position as us, someone in control and free from any consequences (presumably), letting kris and co. take the brunt of all your wrongdoings.

there's all of that, but i also like to portray them as being more on the extreme side, going as far as to treat characters fictional even when said character is standing right in front of them.

the 'commodification' of noelle plays into this a lot i think. we haven't seen it much in game so far, but we get the implied player attachment to her via treating kris as a self-insert of sorts just so you can get weirdly, creepily close to and controlling over noelle. it comes off more as vessel only wanting to be close to noelle and kind of discarding kris, just like they once were (lol).

the player's funny little fixation on noelle definitely throws a wrench in things kris-and-noelle-relationship wise, because this Thing is masquerading as kris, and noelle (and maybe toriel to a degree) is the only person able to tell something's wrong. it's almost like Hikaru Ga Shinda Natsu in a way -- your friend has been replaced, and you're the only person to notice just because you know them so well. it comes down to noelle's heart and ability to see through whatever vessel throws at her, if she'll be able to reach her hand out and save kris from sinking away before it's too late.

ummm. im getting off track. got too krisellepilled for a sec. VESSEL. i'm definitely not immune to portraying them more lightheartedly sometimes, but when I do that, it's usually in game, more so showing up as the soul instead lol

they're still sarcastic and blunt and weird, but at least they're not crazy destructive and sociopathic. gotta tone it down for the sillies

anyway i think thats all i can think of to say at the moment, if i think of something else big i might add it in a reblog, idk lol. thank you for asking, sorry about the long post!

#mailbox #long text #text #deltarune #didnt proofread this so ignore any heinous typos i might have missed

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ossiethegreat · 3 days ago

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“stop acting like color and killer would be a sweet old wholesome couple” what if I just want to draw my favorite traumatized characters having some joy and whimsy in their life

I also dislike how some people simply think killer just shouldn’t be drawn happy because of what he went through . Kinda pushes the narrative that traumatized people can never heal or experience happiness again

obviously he’ll always be greatly affected by it, but he literally said himself he wants to just “be sans again” and idk why ppl feel the need to take that away from him

Anyway I’ll always be a fluff enthusiast

#just a thought #not targeted #yapping #rant #color spectrum duo

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sourcherrybites · 3 days ago

Text

Legally Binding affairs; vol I

.☘︎ ݁˖ Character: Jason Todd x DA! Reader

.☘︎ ݁˖ Disclaimers: Idk, swearing? Reader has a lot of mean thoughts and some misogynistic beliefs. Guns. OH, and reader is a smoker.

.☘︎ ݁˖ a/n: Tell me if you'd like to be in a taglist or something

.☘︎ ݁˖ Word count: 1,883

➜ Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2

Masterlist

There had been a few minutes of silence between you two, even after Jason put back his gun, his jaw was clenched so hard you thought he'd break a tooth and you had to explain a lot.

First of all, how did you keep tabs on them, That one was easy. You had informants in various criminal rings, primarily out of favours you had collected over your journey on sex crimes. You cared about your victims, and they returned with some dirt. One of the first dancers you met had told you once, "Men spill all their secrets after doing it," so all your main sources were pillow talks, and women loved complaining about said talks.

You know, it's kind of funny when you think about it. Why did you have tabs on them in the first place? It's simple, really— you just never trusted those billionaires! So, you started keeping an eye on the Wayne family and, honestly, every other wealthy family in Gotham, too. It's like a little hobby, don't you think? Just keeping tabs on the elite while sipping coffee and taking down their secret source of income in the courthouse, watching them struggle and squirm behind those practised smiles and ironed suits when they are forced to interact with you in social settings.

"So, what do you plan on doing with this information?" Jason sighed finally, biting the inner wall of his cheek. He had been doing that for quite a while now, chewing on his cheek or lip to the point it bled. "You plan on... what, blackmailing the man?" That made you chuckle, but you answered truthfully with the most relaxed grin you were capable of producing. "Honestly, I have no idea what to do." That takes him aback. You did the impossible and uncovered the most well-kept secret in modern times, and you didn’t plan to do anything? He finds himself on the verge of asking before you speak again. "I thought it'd be harder if we're being honest. I mean, it's The Batman, you know?" Jason rubbed his temples and sighed. "Guess so..."

"You're not gonna tell anyone, right?" He inquires. "What do you offer?" You rest your elbow on the back of the couch and tilt your head. "What do I- Do you even know who you're talking to?" He exclaims, baffled that someone who looks like the epitome of righteousness would suggest that. "The guy who panicked so much he broke into my home? I'm asking you what do you offer." You push again with the same relaxed grin. You are pushing his buttons, and he knows it, you know it— so you ask.

"Wanna work with me?"

"Fuck You!"

You just laugh, it's so funny how he fumbles with his words and tries to act all tough, but for him it's not, it's not funny the way your eyes sparkle like that, filled with mischief, or how your laugh makes him want to shut you up, or how you handle him like a plaything, did you casually forget he is The Red Hood? The crime lord who broke into your apartment armed? Like, with a gun? He has a freaking gun within arm's reach!

"I don't tell anyone, and you help me bring down a few bad guys, competition if you may. It sounds pretty reasonable to me," you insist, and each word you spew sounds more insane to him. "So either I join you or you expose me and my family." His voice sounded restrained, like he was holding back from just breaking your nose, "I have some friends in the US attorney's office; maybe I can take care of a certain clown and company... but I'd need your help."

Now that catches his attention, so you take a deep breath, trying to rein in your frustration. "Look, The Joker has a whole set of godfairies backing him up. Too many people are either too scared to act or are making money off his chaos. Think about it— construction companies, security firms. They wouldn’t hesitate to pay off a judge or two to keep him locked up in Arkham just long enough for him to make his next escape, even help monetarily by giving a little incentive to the city not to invest in better security. It's all business, you know? A very lucrative one." You run your hands through your hair, feeling the tension loosen up as you continue, for once you can rant and be heard. "And don’t even get me started on the state. They don't even want to do anything because they see it as a waste of resources, and since he doesn't cross state lines most the time, the federal government ain't much more helpful."

"You want to get him the death penalty." He nods. "Though I don't like to trust the government with the power of killing civilians, but the man's gotta go, end of story." You shrug, and he presses his lips together. "We need a way to communicate without being caught." He murmurs, making you grin and raise four fingers. "Pre-paid phones, fake names, scheduled meetings and no secrets." He thinks about it for a few seconds and speaks, "I pay for the phones, in cash, the meetings are at my safehouse..." and that's when he smiles, "And I pick your name, deal?" he offers his hand. "Deal."

"How's your mornin', Golum?" He chuckles through the phone, the name rolling off his tongue with amusement. Two days after your last conversation, you received a cheap phone with an expensive-looking case through the mail with only one contact registered: 'Pookie', with an eye-catching pink heart next to it. You, of course, demanded an explanation, to which he said, "It'd be less suspicious that you called a boyfriend rather than some deep, poetic nickname," but Pookie? Pookie? It was completely humiliating and absolutely out of character for you, and it was petty, a little payback for all those stressful nights you had made him have. And he also called you Golum because why tf not, your fault for having an entire shelf dedicated to Lord of the Rings and a bigass Gollum figurine.

"It's fine, Pookie." You replied, faking a lovey-dovey voice as you walked out the back of the courtroom's office, a dark building that looked like it was closer to falling apart than being stood up, with chirping pillars, the main door that hadn't been painted probably since the building was first inaugurated and filled with obscenities graffitied on the walls.

You bit the inside of your cheek and groaned, rubbing your forehead in frustration. "Any reason for you to call me at this hour?" You asked, listening to his rough chuckle on the other side. "Or did you just miss my voice, Pooks?" Jason laughed even harder, a deep, dark sound that should be bothering you more, before taking a few shaky breaths and answering, "Look, we need to talk again—in person—to set up some things, alright?" You leaned against the wall, pinching the bridge of your nose, trying to suppress the irritation bubbling up your chest. "When?" He thinks about it, you can hear the soft hum of his voice through the line, pissing you off. "Friday? Say you gotta meet 'Pooks.'" You bit out a terse "Fine" before hanging up and shoving your phone into your pocket, feeling more bothered than ever.

You had a few seconds of silence, which you took advantage of by pulling out a cigarette and lighting up as you tapped your boot against the broken, dark concrete, trying to drown out the low hum of the place. "Uhm, Judge McGregor is looking for you..." The voice of one of the clerks called out behind you. Eve was her name, right? Not like it mattered to you either way. A short, sickly-looking young woman, barely reaching your shoulder, and probably not even 30. Her short, perfectly defined blond locks and bright, sapphire blue irises felt jarringly out of place in this grim, professional setting. You couldn't help but not like her; it was cringe-worthy how she seemed to play into that fragile persona, trying to provoke sympathy from the big, lumbering men of the courthouse. Those men, who looked like they had walked out of a low-budget crime drama, were somehow both repulsive and pathetic, and she seemed to bask in the attention by being so defenceless and frail.

It made your skin crawl.

You hated people like that, always the victim who couldn't do anything wrong and always had something or someone against them. But she was just a clerk; you were the freaking DA of the violent crimes bureau, and you were kind to her; better not get enemies; she may cause you trouble if you don't. "Sure, sweetie. I'll be there in a minute," you smiled kindly, dropping your cigarette on the ground, and you snuffed out the cigarette with your foot.

Friday night came sooner than later, and you soon found yourself in front of a building that looked almost as frail as your coworker, dressed in the plainest looking clothes you had in your closet: a black hoodie and loose jeans. You approached the structure with slow steps.

"Hey there, Gollum? I thought you wouldn't show up." His hands were wrapped around the barrel of one of his rifles, moving rhythmically as he cleaned it with a small cloth. "Remind me again why you picked that name?" you murmured, pushing back the hat of the hoodie. "You're... short... and annoying, and you like Lord of the Rings." he shrugged. "I would've preferred if you called me Frodo or Sam. I eat as much as a hobbit. And of course I'm short compared to you; you're a freaking mountain!" Jason whistled, his eyebrows raising with amusement as he leaned back in his chair. "No need to hold back; you can curse all you want in this humble home of mine. "Can you close your fucking legs, please?" you smiled

He set the gun aside, pointing at one of the chairs nearby as he stood up and walked towards what you assumed was the kitchen. You hesitated, glancing at the assault rifle before reluctantly sitting on the chair. Jason came back a few minutes later with two cups of coffee, steam flowing and curling like a Van Gogh painting, his eyes studying your reaction before settling into the opposite chair with a calculated calmness

"So?" you questioned, sniffing the coffee. You weren't stupid; only god knew what he could've gotten into your drink. "Where are you from?" You blinked twice, completely taken aback by his question. "You know everything about me, and I don't know anything boutcha, so do tell." He leaned over with a smirk. "If we're to be allies, let's stop being strangers, hm?" he tilted his head, and the soft green of his eyes filled with honesty, though a spark of suspicion remained, but you... Did you lose anything by trying?

"Okay..."

The next evening, you got a box of malboros and black coffee on your doorstep.

©sourcherrybites 2025

#dc x reader #dc red hood #dc comics #dc jason todd #jason todd #dc batfam #batfam #batfam x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #sour cherry thoughts

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velvetwyrme · 2 days ago

Note

hello! biologist here :] I love cybugs a lot, and wanted to say your taxonomy is pretty good. It can be an absolute pain to tackle for speculative projects and you are applying it to tiny vehicle people. My heart goes out to you

I'm no entomologist but there are a few terms that might help with cybug classification. Subspecies usually applies to somewhat minor differences in a species that typically don't live in the same area, where the subspecies interbreeding creates offspring with a mix of both parent's traits. For the seekers though there's also such a thing as morphs and breeds. Morphs of the same species can appear very different physically from the wildtype (like glaucus tiger swallowtails) and offspring will either have the morph of their parents or present wildtype. Breeds on the other hand are a lot like subspecies but imply human selection. They can interbreed and the result could be either like a morph or a subspecies depending on the genes involved.

(didn't expect to be sending an ask about breeding seekers on a Friday morning, but here we are)

As for Jeetle a better word than subspecies would probably be caste/sub-caste. A queen/worker/drone is a caste, while differences between workers is called a subcaste. If a colony needs more protectors -> chemical signals or special foods can alter grub development. (Though, if there is no physical change only a behavioral one, it might not even be considered a subcaste, it might just be a Job. Like honey bees have.)

And usually with mimics, the better of a mimic they are the less likely theyre a subspecies and the more likely they're their own species. That's never a certainty though and bug genetics are weird. Heck, a mimic could even end up being just a morph. It happens in butterflies (like with the dark swallowtails)

Sorry for the word wall 🙏 Hope you're having a great day and thank you for bug

*nods and takes notes* !!!!!

I LOVE THE WALL OF TEXT :DD thank you so much for your input as a biologist, its very fun learning things <3333

Also, image comparison of the mentioned tiger swallowtails and the different morphs for others who are interested:

(source // A is a male with standard colouration, B is a female with the darker morph [a mimic!], and C is a female with the yellow [non mimicking] morph!)

I've mentioned elsewhere that I've been using "subspecies" as more of an easily understood shorthand (essentially just. [subcategory of "species"/larger grouping that can interbreed*] ...as such, the somewhat inaccurate usage at times. i try not to think too hard about it >>) which is why after getting that ask I was like. huh. I wonder what the actual taxonomy would look like... and now I'm here :^]

*as far as I'm aware, animals of the same genera can also interbreed but their resulting offspring are considered hybrids and/or tend to run into issues with being infertile? idk, i know a more abt breeding plants LMAO. plant hybridization is pretty common!

but yes!! onwards! taxonomy chatter under the cut.

For Readability purposes there are headers.

SEEKERS

👀!! Seekers having different morphs and breeds...

There's been mention of Thundercracker being a domesticated Seeker cybug (i agree!!) so that's interesting to think about that in context of breeds having a human influence... Seekers like TC are bred to be bigger and more easy to handle, with focus on large, pretty wings and bright colours...

I did consider the fact that one of the criteria for subspecies is that they are geographically distinct (e.g. the Bengal tiger vs the Siberian tiger) and when I was making my taxonomy chart I was actually debating shifting Seekers category-wise (either up to genus, or down to subspecies) which also got me thinking about breeds when writing that other post (as such, the debate of shifting Seeker to subspecies**) but forgot to mention it because researching the differences between how species/subspecies/breeds are defined was making my head spin and I gave up on taxonomy GDKFBSK,,

(**Like domestic dogs and cats!! I think they're currently taxonomically defined as their own subspecies (?) but some people still argue that they are their own species...? taxonomy </3)

As for Starscream and Skywarp, I was thinking that Skywarp is uh. very very far from his typical environment (whereas Starscream is native to this region), which is why I was considering whether or not subspecies would be actually applicable here... buuuut also there's inherently something very funny to me thinking about Skywarp being the "goth" morph thskfhfkfndb,,,

I'm still not entirely sure where they actually would fit in taxonomically, but thinking of the variation in Seekers like how different breeds of dog exist is the most accurate :] (although without specifically a human influence in many cases. While Starscream and Skywarp may seem feral, that implies previous domestication– *i am forcibly shunted into the next section*)

PROWL / PEETLE

OOOH... caste/subcaste is the word I was looking for for sure!! In Prowl's case there are physical differences, but just not as obviously dramatic as solider ants :D! Enforcers tend to have different colour schemes (black and white, with blue and/or red highlights) as well as the addition of sirens and lights. I also think they'd have thicker armour and sharper chevrons!

AND YESS... chemical signals/differing food alters grub development!!!! I also hinted at that in my notes here!!

Colonies will increase the amount of Enforcers if under strain (much like many irl ant colonies do) >:3c

Playing with specbio in terms of funny little bug robots that also. turn into vehicles allows for some leeway in terms of realism (for. obvious reasons) but I like rooting some aspects in reality where I can :D! (also presumably obvious, considering I tried to work out potential taxonomy largely unprompted)

(SLIGHT SPOILER FOR UPCOMING STUFF, skip next paragraph if you don't want to know)

That being said, I don't think that the process (of defining caste within a colony) can be stopped once it's started in irl cases, buuuut imo that's why The Grub will look so similar to Prowl colour-wise once they pupate :] They were originally going to be an Enforcer (caused by colony under stress) but since they got taken in by J+P they got a little mixed up and don't end up as an Enforcer, despite looking the part (Monochrome sorta colours, but no sirens/lights)

SPOILERS OVER

JAZZ / JEETLE

I waffled over where to put Mimics the most LMAO. I also considered categorising them under being their own species, but ended up sticking with subspecies at the time because I imagine that they can interbreed with others of their frametype.

HOWEVER now you've brought up morphs... that probably fits what's going on with Jazz the most! Maybe? He's meant to be mimicking the general look of an Enforcer just at a glance. I imagine he's got the ability to mimic their sirens as well, but that's probably more of an overall species thing where they can mimic sounds (like some birds can).

anyhow. TAXONOMY. YAY. im not going to remake my diagram (... yet) but thank you so much for your input and discussion <33!!

#velwy.txt #cybug extras #inbox #cybugs #cyliph #smth smth. we should all be breeding seekers on a friday morning- *shot*#also i'll take “pretty good” ahfkfbdk a high honor... (/genuine)#i love specbio but i do not know enough abt it to actually Get Into it deeply LMAO #i apparently know more animal fscts than the avg person but not enough to be able to discuss biology on a deeper level than “this is cool!”

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frostiexavier · 2 days ago

Text

˚ ༘♡ ·˚꒰ Limited Edition ꒱

☆ picture is from Heartfelt Games in the game, I just edited the Labubu onto it lol ☆

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

*+:｡.｡ summary: You have been dying to get your hands on this limited edition collectible for so long and Rafayel joins you in waiting in line. But you leave disappointed and Rafayel can’t stand the look of disappointment on your face.

*+:｡.｡ warnings: fluff, some cursing, mc is sad, rafayel gets angry, lababus is you call that a warning idk

*+:｡.｡ word count: 2.1k (sorry it’s kinda short)

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

“The store opens in 5 minutes. If we are lucky they will have a lot in stock”, you say excitedly clenching your numbered wristband.

Rafayel has a frown on his face, standing out in the cold with you waiting for a plushie keychain was not on his plans for today. But when you called asking if he would join you, he couldn’t decline the invitation.

He buries his face into his scarf and wraps himself tighter in his jacket. His tobogan helps shield his deep purple hair from the wind.

You see the employees open the store and your heart begins to race. They open the doors and people walk in calmly and in single file. You inch closer and closer and Rafayel begins to question your choices.

“What is a labubu anyway? What kind of name is that for a plushie?”, he says with annoyance and you turn around to meet his gaze.

“It's an adorable little creature with cute little teeth. You can even dress it up, maybe I will pull a purple colored one and dress it up like you”, you giggle and you catch the small smile he displays before rolling his eyes.

“Sounds hideous and boring but I’ll judge it once I see one”, he scoffs and you can’t help but laugh at his demeanor.

You are up next in line when the store employees walk out and make an announcement.

“Sorry everyone, but unfortunately we had a low stock of the labubu brand blind boxes. We have sold out but please check within the coming month and we should have a restock”, the employee says and everyone sighs in disbelief and disappointment.

“A MONTH?!” Rafayel exclaims a little too loudly and you shush him.

“Let’s just go”, you say, taking a couple steps away from the store with your head hung low and Rafayel grabs your arm.

“You can’t leave now, we waited all morning for this thingy. You probably have been waiting even longer for it to even be in stock”, he says with urgency but you shrug.

“There is nothing we can do, it's sold out. Let’s just go home”, you say with disappointment and slowly walk toward Rafayels car.

He hated seeing you sad and disappointed. He was not ready to give up yet. He looked around and saw a little girl with her parents and she was holding 4 boxes with the name labubu labeled on it. Rafayel had an idea and approached the family.

“Hi, sorry to bother you but would it be possible if I bought one of those dolls from you, i'll pay double or even triple for it”, Rafayel asked and the parents eyes lit up.

“Our daughter bought these herself with her allowance, let me ask her. What do you say sweetie? Would you care to let this man buy one of your dolls?”, the father asked the little girl and she looked Rafayel up and down.

“Why is he interested in dolls?”, she says and her mother gasps in embarrassment. Rafayel shakes his head with a little chuckle. He kneels down facing the little girl and smiles.

“Hi little cutie! I want to get one for my girlfriend, she has been waiting a long time for one and you have four. I was wondering if I could just buy one from you for more money than you paid. Would you be willing to do that? Pretty please?”, he says smiling at the little girl and she scoffs.

“As if you would have a girlfriend, buzz off creep”, she says and Rafayel’s eyes grow wide. He stands up and the mom mouths a “sorry” and the family makes their way to their vehicle.

“How does that little brat earn an allowance?”, he says offended by the girl's comment. He looks over and you are in the car passenger seat, your head resting on the window with a sad look. He can’t stand to see you like this, maybe he can cheer you up?

He gets into the driver's side of the car and takes his tobogan off and fixes his hair in the rearview mirror. He looks over at you and your gaze is fixed outside the window.

“Hey, why don’t we go to that restaurant you wanted to go to last time? I bet they have tables available since it's almost lunch time now”, he says excitedly and you audibly sigh.

“I’m not really hungry”, you say softly and keep your head towards the window, not glancing at him.

“Well, what about going to see that new movie you wanted me to watch with you at the cinema? Now that I think about it, it could be interesting”, he says and you shrug.

“I saw it with Tara last weekend since you didn’t want to go”, you state and he gets a ping of guilt in his heart. He would have seen it with you, he was just over exaggerated at the time about it. He thinks to himself to watch what he says because he wants to do anything and everything with you, even if it doesn’t interest him.

“Oh…. well what if we-“, he continues but you cut him off.

“It’s really okay Rafayel, I know you are trying to cheer me up but I kinda just want to go home.”, you say with a low voice, still not meeting his gaze.

“Okay then”, Rafayel gives you a worried look as he turns on the ignition. This won’t do, he has to find that labubu.

Once you both reach home, you retreat to the bedroom without a word. He immediately goes to his desktop and looks up labubu’s. He gets a glimpse of what it looks like. Hideous, he thought. Why would anyone want this weird looking thing? He shakes his head but goes on ebay to look for the limited edition one you wanted. He finds one, and only one. There is a bidding war going on over it and the current price is $300.

$300 for an ugly monster doll? He offers $310 immediately and gets outbid instantly to $350.

“Are people insane?”, he says to himself and immediately picks up his cellphone, dialing someone he can ask about this.

“Hello? Rafayel why are you calling me on the weekend?”, Thomas asks over the line.

“Listen, have you heard of these labubu dolls?”, he asks in an annoyed voice.

“Oh yes! My daughter collects them”, he says and Rafayel quickly stands up from his desk chair.

“How much?”, Rafayel asks in a hurried manner.

“Excuse me?”, Thomas asked in a confused voice.

“Name your price, I will buy one. Especially if she has this limited edition one”, Rafayels persists and Thomas laughs over the phone.

“My daughter bought them with her own money and besides she only has the normal ones not the limited edition series”, he replies and Rafayel rubs the bridge of his nose and under his eyes.

“Kids and their damn money”, he curses under his breath.

“What?”, he hears Thomas question and he huffs.

“Forget it, thanks for nothing Thomas”, Rafayel says, aggravated and hangs up the phone.

He quickly sits back down and looks up different collectible stores in the area. He calls each and every one but each store tells him the same thing, they are sold out. He keeps calling other places as he keeps bidding on the one on ebay, he has now reached $1250 for this ugly thing.

“Ma’am please I am desperate. It’s for my girlfriend and I just want her to get this one thing please please, I’ll do anything, I’ll… He-hello? Helloooooo?”, he asks and the line falls dead. He was hung up on. He slams his fist against his desk, he hears a ding on his computer and quickly looks. He was outbid on ebay and the seller sold it for $1300 to the other bidder. His face is red with fury and cheeks burning with anger. He looks at the time and it's almost midnight, had he been searching for this thing the whole time you got back?

He leaves his study to check on you. He enters the bedroom and you are laying in bed asleep curled up in a small ball. He sighs knowing you went to bed upset. He gets a text on his phone and leaves the room to read its contents.

Thomas: The PR package for the paint you were going to try has arrived. Be sure to pick it up by Monday.

He sighs at the text but suddenly has an idea. He goes back to his desk and starts emailing the corporate office of labubu. Maybe just maybe he can work something out, as a well known painter maybe he can make a deal.

THE NEXT DAY

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N! Wake up!!”, you hear Rafayel say loudly and shaking your body awake.

“What is it? Did something happen?”, you ask, worried that something bad is wrong.

“Yes come in the living room quickly”, Rafayel says and runs out of the bedroom. You rub your eyes quickly and get up to follow him. Did something happen? You make your way into the living room and you gasp loudly.

“Oh my god. Where did this come from?”, you say with widened eyes and a shocked expression. You are looking at a room full of labubu merch, blind boxes, and even little outfits to go with them. Your eyes meet Rafayel who is smirking and has his arms crossed over his chest.

“I did some research and found some for you, no big deal”, he says looking at his nails then back over at you.

“Where did you get all of this? They are so hard to find and they have been sold out forever”, you say picking up one of the cute outfits.

“Well I wrote to the company to see if they would be interested in a trade. They said if I could sketch one of these hideous creatures and sogn it they would send me some things and walla, showed up first thing this morning”, he said opening his arms as if displaying all the new items. You can’t help but smile, he must have been worried about you and noticed your efforts in trying to get one.

“I don’t know what to say, thank you Rafayel!”, you say and jump into his arms. He steps back for a moment, caught off guard by the hug. He then relaxes and wraps his arms around you and lightly squeezes your body against his.

“You’re welcome cutie”, he smiles into your hair and then slowly pulls away.

“Now for the grand reveal, ta-da”, he says moving to the left and revealing a whole box of the limited edition labubus, the ones you were waiting outside for yesterday witb Rafayel.

“You not only got one but a whole case?!”, you ask in shock and look at him.

“Mhmm, the whole collection should be there”, he smirks and nods his head.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you”, you say, grabbing his hands and jumping up and down. He laughs at how giddy you are.

You grab his face and give him a quick peck on the lips before you turn around and start looking at all the new things he was able to get you. You leave Rafayel stunned by the kiss as he is frozen in place and slowly blinks.

“We should open the first one together”, you say excitedly, snapping Rafayel out of his daze. He tries to hide the blush on his cheeks and nods.

“Here is the pull tab, I’ll hold it and you rip it open”, you say and he raises a brow. You nod insisting he pull it and he does. He pulls out the small bag and rips it open to reveal the plushie.

“Oh my god Rafayel, we got the purple one!”, you laugh and he stares at the little monster.

“I still don’t understand the hype for these but I am glad you like it so much”, he says in disgust looking at the creature.

“I love it, I am going to dress it up like you and name it little Rafayel”, you say and he frowns at you.

“Seriously?? You are going to name this hideous thing after me?”, he says pouting and looking away from you. You place your hand on his cheek and make him meet your gaze.

“I think it's cute, like you”, you say and a tint of pink is displayed on his cheeks as he tries not to smile at your comment. You both spend the rest of the afternoon opening blind boxes and dressing up the labubus.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

a/n: sorry this was short and it sucked :/ but i want a labubu, i think they are so cute & adorable! Also, infold stole my wallet today, took me the whole 150 pulls to get both of caleb’s myth cards but we move… anyways I am still trying to figure out tumblr & I will post a request thing soon in my description i promise, as soon as I figure out how too lol

#love and deep space #love and deepspace #lads #lads x reader #lads fluff #lads rafayel #love and deep space rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel x y/n #rafayel x mc #rafayel x you #rafayel fluff #rafayel x reader #rafayel

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zhoras-bitch · 22 hours ago

Text

Inspired by the recent reddit post, but referencing the discussion in general.

The male MC discourse in RC is stupid, and I'm tired of pretending otherwise. I am a girl who usually likes to play as a girl in my games and I hope I can keep playing as a girl in the future--here, I can say it without gatekeeping an entire genre and starting a freaking gender war.

First and foremost, why are we acting like visual novels are a limited resource that we need to fight men for, less they 'overtake' it with male MCs? If the target audience for the game grows to include more men, that just means more paying customers -> more different books. Or, more likely, they can make separate games that are targeted at men from the beginning, which you won't have to ever interact with if you don't want to.

When this conversation comes up, people always try to give some big ideological reason why RC has to be for girls. Usually they'll bring up how games (by which they always mean high-profile PC action FPS or RPG games) used to only have male protagonists, until finally Choices and RC (mobile romantic visual novels) came around, and I just have to laugh at that. These are obviously such different genres targeted at entirely separate audiences that barely intersect. RC did not solve the problem of female representation in gaming. That would be like saying that lack of female superheroes in 2010s Marvel is solved because female led romcoms exist. Come on now.

And the funniest thing is that the 'threat' of men overtaking RC is non-existent, really. RC will continue to make mostly female led stories, for the same reasons mainstream games in 2000s and 2010s continued to make male led ones--structural sexism and gender stereotypes. Games were 'for boys', so girls didn't play them and companies didn't market them to girls, reinforcing the cycle further. Now it's 'romance games are for girls', so that's who RC caters--and will continue to cater to--until men stop thinking that 'girly things are gay and cringe'. All you are doing by yelling at men to get out of 'women's spaces' is upholding this status quo. (Also I cannot with people calling a fandom or a hobby 'women's space', but that's a whole other story.)

The reality of how many people (not just men btw) are actually genuinely interested in reading a RC book with an MMC is clearly reflected in the fact that out of 47 books in RC, a total of 1 (one) has a male MC. And it didn't cause men to take over RC or the fandom to fall apart or whatever.

I've been in this fandom for a while, and I've only seen a handful of guys coming out to say that while they like the app already (otherwise they wouldn't be here, duh), they'd enjoy playing as dude once in a while. And no matter how nice they are about this, someone will always go 'Boo, this game isn't for you, go play Call of Duty!' and I just. What are we doing here.

This is not the guy who mocked you for saying you'd like to play as a girl in the Witcher. Nor is it the guy who had a meltdown over there being 'too many women in video games'. Those types are not playing RC, never have and never will. They would not touch RC with a ten foot pole, because they are too afraid their dicks would fall off immediately from overexposure to the color pink.

When a person here comes out and says, 'I wish there were more contemporary books in RC because I like contemporary books', fantasy lovers in the comments respond with, 'Idk, I am kind of here for fantasy, I don't read contemporary books usually,' and that's the entire conversation. But replace 'contemporary books' with 'male MC books', and suddenly it's a Discourse (tm), and I'm so tired of it.

#if i hear one more of all y'all say 'women's space' about a fandom i will explode #'this is a women's space' this is a game you play on your phone #also why does this conversation never acknowledge the existence of queer men and non-binary people #romance club #rc salt #bitch speaks

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starberry-cupcake · 2 days ago

Text

no preamble because this one's gonna be long

previously, in nona del 9:

this happened

this is the general tag with all of them

CHAPTER 22 (BROKEN NINTHS SKULL, BABY!!!)

camilla is instructing nona on all the things harrowcita nonagesimus wouldn't do

which is a lot of things

there's also a makeover montage, still including indications of all the things to do and not do as harrowcita nonagesimus

they have to dye nona's eyes, in a way that sounds painful at best, to hide their color

which also implies that nona has to act like she's harrow AND blind

we suffer tells camilla that they didn't tell them blindness could be a recourse from varun's effect and camilla says it's only theoretical

nona, at hearing this, thinks she can remember something, but is not sure what

not decided on whether this is a point for the ice cube barbie theory or not

nona is also pretty attracted to tsundere pash

looking at tsundere pash is making her giggle, which is bad for the harrow impression

camolive are switching back and forth to communicate via letter and palmolive gives nona instructions to be more into the nonagesimus vibes

this is kind of the issue we've got going on

camilla also has to take a minute to catch her breath in a corner after all the switching

nona has to get dinner so, after forcing herself to eat some real human fodd, she goes to chew on an eraser

nona would have eaten these like cereal

camilla suggests nona to pretend that she's got the "blue madness" and act like judith if she is asked something difficult

act like judith now, not act like judith would regularly, which would be to call the second and rat people out

I still like you, judith, you wet pathetic mouse

nona is very turned on by tsundere pash handling a knife

tsundere pash is ordered to guard angel teacher because she's the only one left who can, even if she's probably in trouble for all that happened in school

tsundere pash says that angel teacher "shouldn't be near th—" and gets interrupted

we suffer asks camolive if they're certain a simple touch will be enough, to which camolive say yes

I thought this was about gideon but I'm not so sure now

they all get in tsundere pash's uber and angel teacher is also there

nona looks at all the people on the street doing their daily people things and I really like that, because we're reminded again how nona's perspective is always on the people around her

how observant she is of everyone and how she sees everyone, even in moments in which she's in the midst of the most determining thing that will happen in that planet

she's looking at people righting their bins and walking around and it's like

people are always people, even when situations are dire, and there's always going to be humanity, even in the midst of chaos

and nona takes some time to see that, and I think that's wonderful

ANYWAY

angel teacher asks camilla if it really will be so simple, to which camilla says "yes" but idk about that

simple doesn't tend to be the way with lyctors

camilla says their chances are 50/50, with her dying in the bad ending

WHICH I DON'T WANT

and then, camilla proceeds to arm herself

it's all incredibly cool

I love her

she feels relieved when she's armed with all her knives and weapons

me too, babe, give 'em hell

tsundere pash starts being tsundere with camilla and her weapons

she starts telling her things like "die quick, die cold, bring 'em with you" and "I pulled a trigger next to you, that doesn't mean nothing. But it doesn't change who you are."

TSUNDERE PASH STOP FLIRTING WITH CAMILLA WITH YOUR TSUNDERE WAYS

YOU DON'T DESERVE HER

when they get to the building, they are let in without any of the preamble they had gone through with coronabeer

they enter the building, that is filled with rubbish and smells, like someone wants to get rid of stench but can't

and then they reach a scene that's like some jabba the hut situation, with yandere chad, coronabeer and pyrrha

(is pyrrha kinda boba fett coded or is it just me?)

nona takes some time to describe how beautiful coronabeer looks

to continue with the star wars references, yandere chad's got some uniformed corpses standing around like the stormtroopers at the entrance to rise of the resistance

nona (and the audience) is reassured by pyrrha moving in a very pyrrha manner, which means the quadruple crossing allegations are true and she's still on our side

this is some mechamaru level scheming

yandere chad goes "You're nearly a minute late, Harry"

and I'm like

CHAPTER 23 (SIXTH HOUSE SKULL, BABY!!!!!!)

yandere twin is mad and trying to discredit that harrowcita can be in the planet with her own body, while she has to use chad like a power wheels car

she's also mad that coronabeer didn't mention that harrowcita was allegedly blind

she's also having trouble handling two nervous systems at once

yandere twin is also surprised that camilla is allowed to wear gideon's glasses

she's constantly trying to get a rise out of camilla, but camilla doesn't give a fuck

"Who cares what I think? I'm only a Lyctor, a sacred fist and gesture holding the power of life and death, having ascended to the state your pompous moralising blowhard of a necromancer disdained"

nona is giving just "no" answers, and yandere chad is disappointed because she was expecting harrowcita to come in there demanding gideon's body

not like that, you naughties

yandere chad asks nona (as harrow) if she's changed gideon for camilla, who she considers an upgrade, because of the lack of ass jokes

camilla is an upgrade of anything anytime at any occasion

yandere chad says she doesn't care about the sixth house

(and the sixth house doesn't care about you, bitch)

but she wants to take it back to dr reverend emperor john, who does care very much

camolive don't want to tell yandere chad how they managed to get the sixth house across and yandere chad says she'll ask the oversight body, since she doesn't "need all of them"

I'm getting S I C K and T I R E D of people playing 3d chess with the sixth house

yandere chad wants to make dr reverend emperor john use more military brutality

of course she does

camilla is smiling at the whole thing, though, which yandere chad gets mad about

she tells yandere chad that cassiopeia left the sixth instructions to leave a long time ago

"If he hears that yet another of his duplicitous sluts betrayed him, he's never going to come back from it."

coronabeer is trying to convince yandere twin to run with her and leave everyone alone

they have a way of talking to each other that I'm gonna pretend isn't making me uncomfy at times

yandere chad says they're closer to their goal than ever, so she can't

yandere chad makes it clear that "people" are the last thing on her list of priorities

yandere chad asks pyrrha where the few necros who are alive are and they talk about their lack of training

but then yandere chad gets tired of going around in conversations and plain and simply asks nona (who she thinks is harrow) how tf is she alive and why she's there

nona remembers she's supposed to play judith and starts freaking out and crying "help"

at that, everything kind of goes to hell

lights go out, yandere chad drops nona and staggers back, pyrrha is down on her hands and knees, coronabeer is standing, flanked by dead people, zombies (actual zombies, not metaphoric ones) are falling around

yandere chad goes

nona thinks she's fucked up

yandere chad says she's going to leave with her tied and gagged and "not as a sex thing"

not again with the lyctor orgies

so, pyrrha announces that everyone with a necromantic body is down and yandere chad decides to pack their bags and go without the sixth, especially because she doesn't want dr reverend emperor john to find out about cassiopeia spilling beans

and clarifies that she never cared about the people in the planet

yandere twin also holds a grudge because camilla didn't save her arm

yandere chad decides to kill camilla and coronabeer doesn't like that

I DON'T EITHER

yandere chad says she's already saving judith, so she only gets to keep one

camilla, though

camilla brings back the RECEIPTS

remember back in canaan house when everyone was acting like they were better than camilla, so she had to go kick martita's ass in front of everyone and then yandere twin was like "we can challenge you"?

well, camilla is like "we never said no so, you owe us"

she says that if she loses, she dies but, if she wins, she gets to walk

without nona (posing as harrow)

she says she wants to die on her feet

I'm a little nervous ngl, but also, I LOVE HER AND I KNOW SHE'LL KICK ASS SOMEHOW

yandere chad doesn't want to accept because it's all too "storybook-like"

so coronabeer decides to be very dramatic and put a gun on her throat

then they do the most sisterly thing they've ever done in this whole series

"Stop being so fucking dramatic—" "Staaahp being so fucking dramahhhtic"

they argue until yandere chad accepts to fight camilla

coronabeer calls her "my necromancer" which is a lot and I'm not gonna touch it

coronabeer sets a rule for no active necromancy

yandere twin calls camilla a "pea brain" and gives her the advantage of winning if she takes her handkerchief off her

camilla asks if she can keep the handkerchief if she does

I'm out there throwing my handkerchief on the ground for camilla to pick up like lydia bennet

nona is having liquid coming out of her orifices and her head is throbbing and is worried her eye dye must be ruined

nona can't catch a break

coronabeer dictates the rules of combat and the fight begins

camilla blocks all of yandere chad's attacks at first

soon after, though, she is nearly hit and nona gets worried

I'm concerned but also hopeful because I trust her with my life

camilla is moving fast and handling her knives back and forth and flipping them around

she gets behind yandere chad, in a position in which she can't get to camilla so she can stab her

but yandere chad attacks her anyway and ends up stabbing camilla, who holds her wrist, then hand, then sword

camilla, however, says "match to the sixth"

to which yandere chad replies "what?" before falling backwards

MATCH TO THE SIXTH, BITCH

BUT PLEASE GET MY WIFE A NECROMANCER DOCTOR PLEASE AND THANK YOU

CHAPTER 24 (GIDEON SKULL, BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

I should have stopped at the previous chapter but the gideon skull and the uncertain state of my beloved made me continue

once yandere chad is out, all the dead stormtroopers fall, some on top of poor nona, who still can't catch a break

coronabeer runs to camilla and she responds that she's not going anywhere

thank whatever god that isn't the one in these books

yandere chad then springs back to life and is glad to see camilla alive, to which pyrrha says "You fucking legend"

because yandere chad isn't yandere twin or chad anymore, it's palmolive

if you had told me in book one that palmolive was eventually going to be inside chad's body, this is not exactly what I would have thought

camilla wants them to take out the sword from her body, she says she'll be fine

peer reviews are mixed on that

they do it anyway and coronabeer goes to fetch a med kid

something that should have been done before the sword extraction imo, but I'm not a doctor

"I gambled and you covered my bet. You kept the faith, and were the instrument of both my vengance and my grace. And now I have fought through time, and the River, and Ianthe the First —fought and bested Ianthe the First, and I hope I never fight her ever again...Will you not look at me now, Cam, and know me?"

"Yes, Warden, I will always know you."

QUEERPLATONIC RELATIONSHIP GOALS

pyrrha asks palmolive to use his vulcan necro powers to sense where gideon's body is stashed

palmolive literally gives the info like this

pyrrha is like "palm, bud, this is the best intel I've ever gotten of anything ever"

pyrrha has spent eternity doing group projects with the same asshats and finally is paired up with someone who pulls his weight

palmolive assures them that yandere twin is still alive somewhere in there and that, even if it was mere seconds to them, he spent a long time fighting with her for the dominance of chad's body

gideon would make a comment about that

coronabeer is grateful to palmolive for not killing her sister

but nona thinks she's grateful in a way that reminds her of noodle the dog, which is another thing to add to the weirdness of the third

I mean, if you think about it, it's a design problem, the way to become a lyctor was clearly meant for the truly unhinged, so what else can we expect from this casting process dr reverend emperor john was doing

pyrrha and nona go on gideon duty and pyrrha asks nona how she's doing

she's hanging in there, barely, like the rest of us

nona decides to also break the news to pyrrha that she's dying

and pyrrha says she's not gonna die on her watch

they're all making a lot of promises on things they have no idea about

yandere twin has left some wards in a sus door with instructions that go "Don't go through here. I mean it, idiot. You will disintegrate."

reminds me of canaan house

pyrrha says that they're gonna have to use nona to go through, because she has the best regenerative powers this side of the river

she says gideon is the key to the door that's been closed for ten thousand years, the last thing left from a woman she tried to trick into loving her and might be nona

in this moment, I don't think she's nona, there's a lot of book left still

straightforward isn't the way we do it here in tlt

pyrrha helps nona start putting her arm through the ward and then we're immediately in body horror territory

nona is able to pull through, though

claps for nona

pyrrha clips her nails with a pocketknife and she's good to go

she stays behind to clean the ward while nona goes inside to find gideon's body

nona isn't very impressed with gideon's body and she mentions her having redder hair than pyrrha

I was told by someone that pyrrha had red hair and I had never in this whole time caught that fact

sometimes you miss a detail and then it hits you in the face

nona thinks it'd be a downgrade to go from harrow's body to gideon's

which, RUDE

she's ok with the golden eyes, which are like hers

that's another important thing to note

so, after ripping gideon's appearance to shreds, nona decides to kiss her

to which, gideon reacts with shock and disbelief (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

and nona says "You looked like you wanted to be kissed, that's all."

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

pyrrha comes back and gideon is again very dead

nona asks pyrrha about commander wake, to which pyrrha says that her and og!gideon punched her through an airlock but she was ready to commit

nona observes that pyrrha looks at gideon like she wants to protect her and own her

and she tells her that she kissed her and woke her up, but gideon doesn't seem to be moving anymore

pyrrha is thankful that nona isn't a puddle on the ground after that

she says it's good that yandere twin couldn't transfer but that she's too dangerous to be running around with lyctor powers

nona also thinks that gideon's clothes are very nice but don't look good on her, which I agree

not butch enough

nona is still a little wobbly but they manage to go back with gideon's body into the jabba the hut dais yandere chad had going on

halfway there, they find coronabeer and pyrrha says that gideon might be a copy and not the real one, because she can't think of why dr reverend emperor john would let her body go around like that

also, the shuttle, according to palmolive, is fucked

AND judith is starting to feel bad and palmolive can't use chad's body to do necromancy the way yandere twin could

coronabeer has to give nona a piggyback ride to the jabba dais

when they get there, the most important news: CAMILLA IS FINE

SHE'S FINE PEOPLE, SHE'S OK, SHE LIVES

coronabeer doesn't think gideon is a copy because yandere twin wasn't acting like she was

palmolive checks her wounds and they are consistent with gideon's

he also can't do necro stuff, not even minor, because of dr reverend emperor john's powers over gideon's body

coronabeer mentions that, while gideon's body was with BOE, they dropped her from places and tried to drown her and other stuff and it never looked more than minutes dead

coronabeer is also reassuring her gf judith who's having a hard time

camilla offers her blood and palmolive says he'd slap her if he didn't find the idea of chad slapping her to be super awful

which, fair

palmolive thinks the way to go is to look for the sixth first because his mom might know how to figure out the suttle situation

palmolive has a whole to do list, actually

I'm already tired and we haven't even started

they decide to take some of gideon's blood to see if it survives outside her body

BUT GIDEON WAKES UP

SHE WAKES UPPPPP

"If that's how you get a lady's pants off, holy shit, no wonder I stole your girl" "Unlike some of us, I've never much seen the allure of an evil cougar"

WE'RE SO BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

CHAPTER 25 (BROKEN GIDEON SKULL, BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

"You're the one who bragged about spading my mom."

I missed her so much

(I think gideon would like wynnona earp)

pyrrha doesn't understand how dr reverend emperor john got gideon back if harrow hadn't been able to manage full fusion

gideon says she's a lot of titles (more than yandere twin) and also "mega dead"

she calls nona "fake nonagesimus" and asks, with very little tact, how palmolive is there if he exploded

nona is like "I TOLD YOU SHE WAS AWAKE"

(awake, pun intended)

gideon is not having it with nona and goes "Who is this literal infant?"

gideon, that's a great question

my money right now is on somewhere around amnesiac ice cube barbie with maybe something else going on

nona and gideon are NOT getting along

gideon used to be good with kids but I don't think she appreciates an unknown kid occupying her situationship's body

turns out, gideon hitched a ride with yandere twin because she was bored

she also gives a very cryptic comment about the current state of the river

and says she wants to go with them to the ninth

palmolive asks gideon if she shouldn't be trying to stop them and gideon goes "you wanna fight me?"

palmolive also tells her he considers her a friend, which makes nona angry because she doesn't think gideon deserves it

nona, you missed two books of context, my child

gideon gives excuses that sound very vague and nona clocks that she's lying

which makes gideon very upset and camilla upset at gideon

gideon says she just wants to go to the ninth and people should mind their own business

(translation: "who cares what I do? who cares what I say?", iconic lyrics from an iconic song by alaska y dinarama)

my theory is that maybe harrow is in the tomb? or something? because that's where she was in book two? maybe she wants to find her? maybe the tomb was already opened though not physically? idk, man

DON'T TELL ME ANYTHING PLEASE I BEG YOU

camilla staggers at one point and gideon catches her before remembering she's acting all stoic and indifferent

I see you, gideon

nona sees you too

also, gideon's skin is now impenetrable because dr reverend emperor john turned her into more of an xmen than she already was

she tells pyrrha that the wounds he didn't fix are her "speed holes to go fast" and I'm here like "I've missed this idiot"

she also tells camilla that she's gonna end up like her if she keeps fucking around, which is yet another moment of not being able to pretend she doesn't care about her friends

she explains also that her blood outside of her body turns to ash and gives some necromancy jargon I didn't think gideon would ever learn

nona says that she's never seen anyone so sad in her whole life

:'( poor gideon

hugs to gideon, group hug

AND THAT'S IT!!! SO SORRY IT WAS SO LONG!!! I actually ran out of space for pics and had to delete some T_T I'm falling asleep as I go, so I hope this isn't the messiest recap ever. I'll try to make the next one shorter??? maybe??? it's difficult!!!

#luly reacts to tlt #nona the ninth #nona the ninth spoilers #long post #gif cw

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kazzykatt · 2 days ago

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30 Million Subscriber Q&A summary!

i didnt catch all the questions as i was writing as it was going (also english is not my first language so some things slipped, sorry about that)

Skim was also in the Q&A as he is a writer and director so i'm adding some of his answers too

now, the questions!

Q: Where was Alan in Animation vs Minecraft? A: The whole 3 seasons happened in like 4 hours and Alan isnt on his computer 24/7 so he probably was in another room or working on a laptop and leaving the sticks to their shenanigans

Q: how did Purple ended up in the mac with the villagers? A: in Alan's mind: since he came out of a thumbnail in 2011 he had like 7-8 years to live and learn. Somewhere in the journey he found a mac, minecraft, and made his little village

Q: is Animation vs Education canon in AvA/M? A: AvE was made to educate and trying to make it fit with AvA/M wouldnt make sense. it could be an alternative universe or a dream

Q: is The Dark Lord gonna come back? Alan: do you want him to come back? chat: YES (they already made a desicion. Alan: "You will see in an upcoming video")

Q: Who made stickfight.com? A: Giving how stickfigures work in the universe, some animator made them and thats how they became to be

They have a plan for Green's socials (didnt say anything more)

Q: Would they be Hatsune Miku fans? A: They get obssesed with things easy so everyone would be Hatsune Miku fans. Alan says Red maybe more than the other (Skim says Yellow)

Q: Are The Second Coming and The Chosen One meant to have a brother type relationship? A: Long lost brothers, born from the same source but they're strangers, they dont know each other

if the series keeps going Alan thinks that they might need to focus on another characters cuz there would be nothing more to tell about the main characters

Q: What would their voices sound like? A: Alan personally doesnt think they have voices (tho he say they have kinda telepathic communication) text in influencer arc is like them translating for us :o

fun fact: whooshes were made with a wood ruler fun fact: there's a short with Blue coughing, that's Skim

Q: What happens with death stickfigures? A: Their code is still there just not connected. like theyre in another dimention and its imposible for someone in the living dimention to take the code and revive them (unless they know? idk it was vague)

More adventures to come with different pairs of sticks!

Q: Favorite part about writing stories? A: Making them feel believable, real, like something that could happen (theyre really in the videogame or interacting with that person in the computer)

Q: How old are the stick figures? A: They dont have an official age, you can see them as teenagers/early 20s (because of their personalities) "is not like they're people and age the same"

Q: Do you think AvM tournament arc is a good idea? A: good idea, brainstorming something similar

Q: Would you think of making a series about TCO/TDL or slice of life of the mercenaries? A: Great ideas, would be experimenting with the shorter episodes

Q: Is AvA 12 coming this year? A: Summer if everything goes fine

Q: How Purple met King orange? A: "You've seen the tunnels conecting the outernet and the internet, thanks to the wings Purple could travel safely and meet him"

Q: When is Purple's birthday? A: Alan doesnt know and thinks Purple wouldnt know either (maybe february? Alan feels like it would be)

Q: What are the/would there be Mercenaries official names? A: Become a member to know what production calls them

Q: Least favorite Character? A: Alan is not that emotionally attached to The Chosen One (cuz he's not very emotionally developed) (they have plans for that)

Q: Favorite Episode? A: episode 30 AvM

Q: If you turn off the computer, what happens to the character? A: Think of it as when electricity goes off. Is dark, is cold, nothing works, cant interact with anything. They probably just sleep.

Q: Is AvA/M same universe? A: Same universe, they happen offset of each other (like an alternative path created after discovering minecraft). Sometimes AvA is first, sometimes they happen at the same time (very messy timelines ngl)

Q: Would Mitsi be revived? A: We will see

Alan doesnt play among us (idk random chat question hehe)

Q: Are you planning another series? something different? A: Theyre gonna try with the minisodes

Q: Why are there so many Green episodes and little of the others? (concert, influencer arc, prank) A: They had the ideas before deciding who, is coincidence. They want to even it out.

Q: Why are newer AvM so childish? A: Alan didnt see them as childish and a lot of the audience are children (younger than 30) so

Q: Who made Corndog guy? A: Skim did and he is sorry

Q: Was AvM season 3 planned from the start or was it made as it was going? A: It was a skeleton and got stuff added (like the Warden was added as soon as they knew about it) (Alan contacted the creator of the Warden and he didnt answer until after the episode released lol) The golden apple was a placeholder for whatever the Warden dropped

Q: Will King's son come back? A: Do you want to? (another poll, chat was very divided) "thank you for the feedback" and said nothing more

Alan has cried after watching the finished animation (cried with King and Victim's stories)

Q: Has the story changed? A: Yes, Alan didnt plan to do more after AvA 1

Q: How long did it take to write AvM season 3? A: It took months. Alan got ideas while watching Avengers. King is inspired in Thanos and Purple in Loki

Q: What are some quirks the sticks have? A: Green likes udon noodles and listens to daft punk. Yellow could be into rubiks cube, Blue could be superstitious (horoscopes and astrology), Red has the most ADHD so whatever people with ADHD do. There's nothing "official" and we fans can give them some.

Q: Character you relate the most? A: Alan: The Second Coming. He's he older brother/father figure. Little silly and wants to stay home all day. Skim relates to Victim (connected while writing him.) Quiet and wants to keep occupied with work, has problems relating with people but gets stuff done

Q: How long does it take to make an AvA episode? A: Depends, last one took a year (because of all the new things) 6-8 months if everything goes fine (theyre working on AvA 13 as well)

Q: Is Purple part of the group now? A: Kinda. Like the friend who doesnt live there but visits a lot

Q: Why the name Mitsi? A: Someone sugested reverse Victim's name and change some letters

Q: If you could rewrite someone who would it be? A: Bob

Q: Would there be scary videos? A: Yeah? (kids like scary so maybe?)

Q: Episode you're most proud of? A: Right now Animation vs Adiction

Q: Upcoming video you're excited the most? A: (to avoid spoilers they mentioned the bedwars episode and Alan is excited for the next season of AvM) (Skim is excited for AvA 12&13 and said they're kinda like 2 parts of the same episode 👀)

Q: Would you upgrade to Windows 11? A: Is in discussion

Q: Are there gonna be new characters introduced? A: In AvM maybe, in AvA there's room for that, dont know about mayor characters

Q: Why the sticks dont talk? A: It was unintentional but it turned out fine. no script, no lipsync, no voice actors, more international audience

Q: Animation vs Roblox? A: they have no idea how to do it. it had to be a series and each episode they play different famous games (dont get your hopes up for this one)

Q: When are the mini episodes coming out? A: soon

Q: How rich is corndog guy? A: Not rich enough

#ava #avm #animator vs animation #animation vs minecraft #alan becker

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whatsupsonnyboy · 2 days ago

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Drunk in my mind | Joseph Quinn (part II)

PAIRING: Joseph Quinn x fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Joe and you (actress!reader) met during the filming of a romantic thriller, you two struggle to keep your undeniable chemistry professional. But when intimate scenes push your limits, the line between acting and reality begins to blur.

wc: 5.1K

warning: fluff, slow burn, co-stars to friends, friends to lovers, mentions of sex, swearing, overthinking, angst

a/n: sooo here its part II for drunk in my mind, it's kind of angsty soooorry, i just cant help writing messy Joe, its absolutely captivating for me idk. Hope you enjoy this one (plus, there's obviously gonna be a next and least part)

Feedback is welcomed <3

request are open�� | masterlist

part I | part II | part III

Joe barely slept. Again.

He had spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, thoughts running in circles, replaying every word, every second of last night’s disaster. He had hurt you. That was the only thing that mattered. He hadn’t meant to, not in a million years, but that didn’t change the fact that he had. And now, there was no way to fix it. Not when today was another workday. Not when the only thing he could do was push through, pretend nothing had happened, and get this over with.

The worst part was knowing that you would be there. That he wouldn’t be able to avoid you. That he wouldn’t even be able to talk to you properly—because how could he? What could he say? Sorry I shut you out? Sorry I ruined everything? Sorry I want you so much it’s ruining me?

No. It didn’t matter. None of it did. The only thing that mattered was getting through the next few hours without making things worse. The only way to do that was to switch off, keep his head down, and be professional. That’s what he told himself as he got up, showered, and got dressed. That’s what he repeated in his head all the way to the set. That’s what he told himself when he saw you.

You were already there, talking to the intimacy coordinator, going through notes, nodding at whatever Edith was saying. Your body language was careful, measured. Professional. You didn’t even glance in his direction.

Joe forced himself to look away, to keep walking. No lingering glances. No hesitations. No what ifs.

Just work.

The scene was unavoidable. Production had no choice but to pick up where they left off.

A love scene. One of the love scenes. The one that was supposed to be raw, desperate, consuming. The one that should have felt like two people unable to stay away from each other any longer.

Instead, it felt impossible.

Joe was hyper-aware of you. Every movement, every breath. He had promised himself he wouldn’t let it show, that he would be professional, but as soon as the cameras rolled, he felt the hesitation. The way his hands hovered for a second longer before touching you. The way he stiffened when he should have softened.

“Cut.” Mark’s voice rang out almost immediately.

Joe exhaled sharply, stepping back. He didn’t dare look at you.

“Alright,” Mark sighed, rubbing his forehead. “We need more… connection. More need between you two.”

Joe nodded, forcing a tight-lipped smile. More connection. If only they fucking knew.

They went again. And again. And again.

Each take was just as difficult as the last. Every time Joe’s hands traced your skin, every time your breath mixed with his, it felt like walking a tightrope. It wasn’t just awkwardness—it was something else, something dangerous. Like standing at the edge of a cliff, knowing one wrong step would send them both crashing down.

By the fourth take, something shifted.

Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it was the sheer force of muscle memory, maybe it was the fact that neither of them could afford to keep messing this up. But suddenly, the scene started to flow.

Joe stopped overthinking. He stopped hesitating. He let himself sink into it, into you.

And for a moment—just a moment—it didn’t feel like acting.

It felt real. The heat. The pull. The way his hands gripped your waist, the way your fingers tangled in his hair.

And that was the problem.

Because for a split second, Joe forgot. Forgot the cameras, the script, the fact that this was a scene and not something he could actually claim as his own. It was the way your body pressed into his, the way your breath hitched against his lips—it was everything. Too much.

Panic hit him like a train.

His body betrayed him first, his muscles tensing, his pulse hammering against his throat. His fingers curled involuntarily, his grip on you momentarily faltering before he forced himself to let go. He stepped back too fast, severing the connection in a way that felt brutal.

"Fuck, sorry," he muttered, already distancing himself, already forcing his mind into lockdown.

But it was too late.

The moment was gone. The scene was ruined.

The set was dead silent, and the weight of everything—everything that had just happened—pressed heavily on both of you. Joe’s eyes flitted to the floor, unable to meet yours, his breath shallow as though he’d just been caught in the act of something unspeakable. You didn’t know what to say, what to do. Your body felt stiff, frozen in place as you stared at him, but inside, it was all unraveling.

It wasn’t just about the scene. It was about everything that had been building up, the tension that had been hanging between you two for so long. And then, in that moment, everything felt more complicated than it ever had before. You’d crossed a line. He had crossed it. Neither of you had intended it, but there it was, unspoken yet undeniable.

“Fuck,” Joe said again, quieter this time, almost as if to himself. His hands fidgeted, as if they didn’t know where to go. He was torn between apologizing again or pretending it hadn’t just happened. His whole posture was tense, defensive, like a man on the edge of a breakdown.

You weren’t sure what to feel, how to react. Everything in you wanted to lash out, to scream at him for doing this to you, for making you feel something you shouldn’t feel in the middle of all this. But nothing came out. No words. No anger. Just confusion.

"Is everything alright?" you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Joe didn’t answer right away. He just looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of apology and frustration, like he wanted to say so much more but couldn’t. Finally, he took a deep breath, looking like he was preparing to speak but unsure what words would make it better.

Mark’s voice broke through the tension. "Cut!" he called, clearly frustrated by the pause. “We need a break. Everyone, take five.”

You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t look at Joe without feeling your chest tighten, your breath coming in short bursts. He had pulled away so quickly, as if the moment had disgusted him. And maybe it had. But why had it happened in the first place?

The space between you had never felt so vast. And it wasn’t just the physical distance. It was something far more complicated. The emotional distance. The boundaries you’d been trying to ignore for so long had suddenly slammed into reality.

Joe didn’t move, didn’t say anything more. He stood there, staring at the floor, his fingers running through his hair in frustration. He focused on breathing, on grounding himself, on pretending that the past two minutes hadn’t just thrown him into complete fucking turmoil. He couldn’t afford this. He couldn’t let this happen.

Not again.

He heard your footsteps behind him, hesitant. Maybe you were about to say something, maybe you were about to ask if he was okay—but he couldn’t. He couldn’t look at you, couldn’t meet your eyes and risk unraveling completely. So he took a step further away, putting more space between you, a boundary neither of you had needed before.

The silence stretched on until it became unbearable. The set felt colder, more sterile, and the walls between you felt thicker than ever.

“Five more minutes,” he said, his tone flat, detached. “We need five minutes, and then we’re finishing this.”

You didn’t know what to say. The words didn’t matter. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. But you couldn’t let the scene stay ruined. You couldn’t let it fall apart because of this. You had a job to do.

With a stiff nod, you turned away from him, walking towards the side of the set where they were setting up for the next shot. Joe didn’t follow, but you could feel his gaze burning into your back.

The five minutes passed in silence. You barely moved, barely thought. You just breathed, trying to collect your thoughts, trying to block out the way your heart was hammering in your chest.

Joe squared his shoulders, forcing every ounce of emotion out of his system. When he turned back, he wasn’t Joe anymore—he was his character, detached, composed, ready to finish what he had started.

The second take began.

And this time, he made sure it was nothing more than a performance.

Joe came back to his position, his face set, his eyes distant. He was a professional, and he was determined to keep it that way, no matter what it cost him. He stayed rigid, focused entirely on the task at hand, keeping his distance. The touch, the heat, the closeness, all of it—he forced it all out of his mind.

You did the same.

And somehow, the scene went on. He acted, and you did too. Every movement was calculated, each touch forced, but the cameras were rolling, and the show had to go on. There was no room for mistakes now.

As the scene finished, the tension in the air was palpable. Mark called cut, and everyone immediately scattered, avoiding eye contact, not wanting to acknowledge the unspoken tension that still hung between you and Joe.

He didn’t speak to you. Neither did you. There was nothing left to say.

You had never felt the weight of silence quite like this.

The distance wasn’t just physical—it was everywhere. In the moments between takes, in the breaks that used to be filled with effortless conversation, in the absence of his presence when you turned your head expecting to find him watching.

Because that’s what Joe used to do.

He used to sit behind the camera when it was your turn to film, watching, always watching. You’d grown used to it, to that silent but constant support, the way his presence felt like an anchor amidst the chaos of filming. But today, his chair was empty. He had scenes of his own to shoot, yes—but that had never stopped him before.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. Maybe this was for the best. But the ache in your chest told a different story.

It was pathetic, really, the way you kept looking for him. How you still expected to turn a corner and see him waiting, how you half-expected him to fall into step beside you between scenes, making some dry comment about the ridiculousness of whatever you had just filmed.

But he wasn’t there. And you hated how much you noticed.

It was infuriating, this version of Joe you were seeing now. The cold professionalism. The single-minded focus. Like nothing that had happened between you mattered at all. Like you weren’t worth even a fraction of the consideration he had so easily given before.

Maybe that was the worst part—not just the absence, but the realization that you had been wrong about him.

You had believed he was different. That he was kind, thoughtful, the kind of person who cared about more than just the job. But maybe that was just another illusion. Maybe he was no different from every other actor who smiled for the cameras and left the wreckage behind when the scene was over.

And maybe that was on you.

Because you should have known better. You should have kept your distance, maintained the boundaries that would have made this easier. But you hadn’t. You had let yourself trust him, let yourself believe that whatever had been growing between you was real. And now, you were paying the price.

The worst part?

He wasn’t.

Joe was moving on like nothing had happened. Like you were nothing more than another scene, another line to be delivered and discarded.

And that? That hurt more than anything.

Joe had told himself—convinced himself—that this was for the best. That if he kept his distance, if he forced himself to be professional, to be cold, then maybe things would settle. Maybe the weight in his chest would lessen. Maybe he’d stop wanting you so fucking much.

But it hadn’t worked.

If anything, it made it worse.

The absence of you was unbearable. The silence, the lack of your voice filling the gaps between takes, the missing glances you used to share—it all felt like a punishment. And he knew he deserved it. But fuck, it was getting harder to breathe.

You weren’t just keeping your distance—you were freezing him out. Completely. And he couldn’t blame you. He had drawn the first line. He had built the first wall. But he never expected you to build one even higher, even thicker, impenetrable in a way that made his chest ache.

Days passed, and the realization settled like lead in his stomach.

He had been selfish.

At first, his fear had been simple: that you didn’t feel the same. That this pull between you was something he had imagined, exaggerated in his mind. That maybe you were just friends, that maybe he was just another coworker to you.

But then, he saw the way he had hurt you. Saw the anger in your eyes, the disappointment, the pain. And it hit him like a fucking freight train.

Of course, you had felt it too.

And instead of talking about it, instead of giving you the chance to decide what to do with those feelings, he had made the decision for both of you.

That was the worst part. The unbearable truth.

He had convinced himself this was for your sake, for the sake of the film, for the sake of professionalism. But deep down, he knew it was a lie. He had done it for himself. To protect his own heart. His own fears.

And now? Now he had no idea how to fix it.

You wouldn’t even look at him anymore. Wouldn’t speak to him unless it was strictly necessary. And even then, your voice was devoid of warmth, clipped and controlled, like you were barely tolerating his presence.

He wanted to fix it.

He just didn’t know if he had the right to.

Because if he had been the one to break everything apart… how the hell was he supposed to ask you to put it back together?

Joe had told himself that he could fix this. Maybe not entirely—maybe not in the way he wanted—but at least enough to make things bearable again. He had spent days carrying the weight of his own selfishness, his own fear, and now, faced with the wall you had built between you, he realized something even worse.

He wasn’t the only one who had made a choice. You had, too.

You weren’t playing along anymore. The kindness, the warmth, the easy understanding—you had shut it all off. And why wouldn’t you? He had been the first to pull away, to decide what was best for the both of you, and now you had done the same. Except this time, he was on the receiving end of it, and it fucking hurt.

Still, he had to try.

So he made an effort. Small things at first. Little acknowledgments, nods when you passed by each other, polite comments about the scenes. He didn’t push, didn’t expect anything in return. He was just trying to remind you that he was still here. That he wasn’t avoiding you anymore.

But it wasn’t enough.

Because you weren’t meeting him halfway.

You weren’t cruel, not exactly, but you weren’t letting him in either. When he spoke to you, you answered, but only in clipped, neutral sentences. When you had breaks between scenes, you no longer spent them anywhere near him. And when it came to the actual filming, you were professional—so professional it was almost unbearable.

Joe could handle the distance. What he couldn’t handle was the fact that you wanted it.

And it was fucking up everything.

The more he thought about it, the more distracted he became. He fumbled lines, missed cues, stepped in the wrong place. Tiny, stupid mistakes—mistakes he never made. He could feel the irritation creeping in from the crew, from Mark, from you.

Especially from you.

Your frustration was palpable.

At first, it was just little things—tightened shoulders, tense jaw, the way you let out sharp breaths whenever the scene had to be reset. But then, after the fourth take was ruined because he hesitated before delivering his line, you snapped.

"For fuck’s sake, Joe," you muttered under your breath, but loud enough for him to hear. “Can you please focus for once?"

He flinched. Not because of your words, but because of the way they sounded—tired, exasperated, like you were done. Done with him, done with the whole damn thing.

He wanted to apologize, to explain, to say anything to make it better.

But what the fuck was he supposed to say?

That he was exhausted, but not from the long days of shooting? That he had spent every second of the last week thinking about you, about how badly he had handled everything? That standing next to you, knowing he had ruined whatever was between you, made it impossible to focus?

None of that would fix anything.

So instead, he swallowed it down. Forced himself to breathe. Forced himself to focus.

And when the cameras rolled again, he delivered the line.

Perfectly.

Because if there was one thing he could still do, one thing he had left, it was pretending.

You didn’t have to look at him to know when he entered the set. You felt it. The weight of his presence, heavier than before. It was as if he’d been trying—no, he had been trying, and that was what pissed you off even more. You hadn’t wanted to see it, hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it, but you knew he had been doing his damned best to be cordial, to rebuild whatever mess of a relationship you had left.

The tension between you two had been thick, but you kept your eyes fixed on your script. You forced your body to stay rigid, not even glancing in his direction. His attempts to be professional, to give you a nod or some small, respectful gesture, didn’t go unnoticed. And it annoyed you to no end.

He had been the one who messed this up. He had been the one to pull away. And now, after all that, he expected you to just... let it slide? No. Not this time. Not after everything. You had built walls higher than you ever thought you could, and there was no way in hell you were letting them crumble so easily. Not for him.

As the scenes had unfolded, the weight of the unfinished tension from the past days had pressed down on you, turning every moment into a battle to maintain composure. He’d been trying, you could tell—he’d been trying so hard to fix things, to show that he cared—but all you felt was a cold bitterness creeping in. He didn’t get it, did he? He’d thought he could just pick up the pieces and act like nothing had ever happened. Like everything had been fine now just because he suddenly cared.

You had watched him stumble through his lines. His movements had been all off, as if he hadn’t been quite present, as if his mind had been somewhere else. It had been infuriating. Why did he have to make everything so difficult now? Didn’t he see that you were the one trying to push through this, that you were the one who just wanted to get through it without falling apart?

Every time he misplaced his mark or hesitated on his lines, you felt your frustration boil. You couldn’t help but sigh loudly, a sharp exhale through your nose that was loud enough for him to hear. You didn’t care anymore. It wasn’t your fault he was distracted. If he had cared about this as much as he said, he wouldn’t have been falling apart like this. It was like you were filming with a stranger—someone who didn’t even have the decency to put in the effort.

His eyes had darted to yours, and there had been that brief flash of guilt, of self-awareness, but it had only made you angrier. He had been doing this on purpose, hadn’t he? Trying to make you feel something again, trying to bridge the gap you had both built, but you hadn’t been interested in falling for that. Not now. Not after everything.

As the day had dragged on, you had begun to realize just how tired you were. Tired of the tension. Tired of him. Tired of pretending that you weren’t dying inside, that you weren’t resentful of every moment you had to spend in this space with him. He’d been messing up more than ever, and it had been hard to watch and even harder to ignore.

But even worse had been that little voice in the back of your head, the one that still cared, that still wanted to reach out. You hated it. You despised it. But no matter how hard you had tried to shut it up, it had lingered there, mocking you, making you wish for a simpler time when things hadn’t felt so complicated.

But then, after the fourth take had been ruined because he had hesitated before delivering his line, you had been done.

You had thrown your hands up in frustration, your voice snapping as you muttered, "For fuck’s sake, Joe, can you please focus for once?"

He had flinched. But it hadn’t been the words that had hit him—it had been the tone. The weariness in it. The frustration. You hadn’t even realized how much of it had seeped into your voice. You had felt a little bad, but not enough to stop the words from coming out. He had made this hard for you. So why shouldn’t you make it hard for him, too?

He hadn’t said anything, though you could feel the tension in the air. You had known he had been wrestling with something, but what could he possibly say? It wouldn’t have mattered, would it? You hadn’t wanted to hear any explanations, hadn’t wanted any half-hearted apologies. You were past that. You had just wanted to finish the scene, finish the day.

You saw him there, standing still, like he was trying to pull himself together, but you couldn’t figure out what he was doing. He seemed lost, but what could he possibly be struggling with? Maybe it was all in your head. Maybe you were just overthinking it.

But then, as the cameras started rolling again, he took a breath. You watched him steady himself, as if he was trying to shut everything else out. And when he spoke—when he nailed that line, just like nothing had happened—you felt your chest tighten.

As the final scene wrapped, you gathered your things, moving quickly, not wanting to linger. You could feel his presence behind you before you even heard him step closer.

“Hey,” Joe’s voice was tentative, careful, like he was testing the waters. "Sorry I kept messing the scene up. It 's been hard to focus lately"

You didn’t turn around. Didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking him in the eye. The tightness in your chest felt unbearable, but you weren’t about to let him see it. What was he exactly doing? What did he pretend?

“Yeah… it’s okay, Joe,” you said flatly, your voice colder than you wanted. You didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to feel the tug of something still there when all you could think about was escaping. "See you."

You could hear him hesitate, then take a step back. And even though you felt a flicker of something—maybe regret, maybe pain—you didn't care. Not enough to turn around. You didn’t want to give him a chance, you weren’t feeling like talking.

Despite everything, despite your anger and the wall you had built, a part of you still ached when you saw him looking at you like he was genuinely trying. Like he wanted to fix things. But no. You wouldn’t let him. Not then. Not after what he had done. So you turned away, and the emotional distance felt as real as the physical one that had been between you two for days.

You wanted it to be over. You wanted it to end. You wanted the tension to disappear, but you were afraid that if you gave him an inch, he’d tear down everything you’d worked to build. So you kept your distance. You kept your anger. And maybe, just maybe, you’d get through it without losing yourself.

You had known this scene was coming. You had read it a hundred times, rehearsed it in your head, told yourself it was just another day at work.

It was a fight. A breaking point. The moment where your characters—two people caught in an inevitable downward spiral—finally let the dam burst. It was raw, emotional, the kind of scene designed to leave a mark.

But nothing could have prepared you for how it would actually feel.

It started fine. You exchanged the first lines with the usual sharpness, slipping into your role with ease. Joe did too, his delivery solid, precise. But then something shifted.

His voice. His expression.

The anger in his eyes wasn’t just acting—it was him.

And suddenly, you weren’t just saying the lines. You were there, locked in an argument that felt too real, too close to everything you had been trying to ignore.

He stepped toward you, a muscle in his jaw twitching as his voice rose. “Don’t do that. Don’t stand there and pretend like it doesn’t matter.”

You felt it—an almost imperceptible tremor in his voice.

It made your pulse stutter.

You forced yourself to hold your ground, to push back like the script demanded. But his energy was suffocating. His eyes burned into you with a desperation that made it impossible to look away.

And then it happened.

His breath hitched. His voice broke.

And a tear slipped down his cheek.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t in the script.

You felt something twist violently in your chest.

Because in that moment, you knew.

This wasn’t just about the scene. This wasn’t just about acting.

He was breaking in front of you.

"Cut!"

The room exhaled all at once. There was a beat of stunned silence, then Mark’s voice cut through the quiet.

“Wow. That is what I wanted to see. That was incredible.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the set—crew members nodding, sharing glances of admiration. Someone clapped Joe on the shoulder.

He barely reacted.

He just stood there, breathing heavily, blinking rapidly like he was trying to pull himself back together.

And all you could do was watch.

Watch as he wiped a hand over his face, as he swallowed hard, as he tried—and failed—to shake it off.

Something inside you cracked.

For days, you had let anger guide you. You had let pride build a wall so high that you convinced yourself it was the right thing to do. You had blamed him. Resented him. Refused to let yourself care.

But looking at him now, hurting in a way that was so real, you realized the truth.

You had been wrong.

Not for being upset. Not for feeling hurt. But for pretending like it didn’t matter.

For acting as if walking away from him was easy, when the truth was—it wasn’t.

Because no matter how much you fought it, no matter how much you wanted to be done, there was one undeniable fact staring you right in the face.

He still mattered to you. More than you had ever been willing to admit.

Joe lay alone in his room, sprawled on the bed after another long day of filming. The scene still echoed in his mind, like a painful reverberation. He felt exposed, vulnerable, embarrassed for having shown so much emotion in front of the entire crew, especially in front of you. Everything he had been avoiding, everything he had repressed, had surfaced. And now, with the knot in his stomach that wouldn’t go away, he knew he couldn’t keep ignoring what he felt.

He felt powerless. He had been unable to make things better between the two of you, and the fear of losing whatever was left of any kind of relationship consumed him. Yet still, he didn’t know how to take the first step. The distance between you two was palpable, his pride wounded, and the fear of being completely rejected paralyzed him.

He closed his eyes, feeling a pressure in his chest. How did it come to this? he asked himself once again. What else can I do if every time I try to get closer, she pushes me away with a coldness that leaves me speechless?

Meanwhile, you walked down the hallway of the set, alone, after another exhausting day of filming. The sound of your footsteps echoed in your mind, but it was the silence around you that made you think the most. At that moment, something shifted. You realized what was happening inside you. For days, you had been looking at Joe as someone who had simply let you down, as a person who had played with your emotions. But now, after that last scene, after seeing him so broken and vulnerable, you realized he had also been suffering—not only because of what had happened between you two but because all of this had affected him deeply.

A strange sense of guilt washed over you. For a moment, the pain and resentment you had kept inside mixed with a new perspective. Why have I been so blind, so determined to protect my pride at all costs? you asked yourself. It hurt more than you expected to see Joe like that, so vulnerable, so real.

You stopped for a moment. You knew you had allowed your own pain to cloud your judgment. All this time, you had been thinking it was only him who had let you down, but the truth was, you had played a part in this too. Maybe it wasn’t the best decision to shut yourself off so much, to hide your feelings behind walls that kept growing taller. Maybe neither of you had been brave enough to face what you were really feeling.

But the truth was that neither of you knew how to take the next step, how to break the silence that had settled between you without everything spiraling out of control again. Joe continued to be tormented by his own fears and lack of courage, while you kept resisting, knowing that opening up wasn’t easy, especially after everything you had been through.

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