#I just had to turn it off at that point and take a break

[theorphicangel]

papa!kuna getting up on stage when his daughter has stage fright.

she's been excited about her solo for weeks now, the endless rehearsals in the front living room on an early saturday morning. you ran through her lines almost everyday and helped her recite the songs just before she fell asleep.

it had gotten to the point where sukuna was humming her recital song in his own fucking sleep. but anything to make his baby girl happy, right?

she had wanted everything to be perfect and was excited to impress her parents. the night before she had her outfit all ready and waiting on the chair beside her despite the recital not being until the next evening.

but now she stands under the headlights of the school stage with many eyes peering at her and the piano instrumental playing in the background.

you had your camera up and ready for her solo but suddenly you place it down once you realise your child has stage fright. her kindergarten teacher prompts her to start, replaying the chord but the words seem stuck in her throat.

you glance at sukuna with worry in your eyes and he glances back with his face deadpanned but you know he's panicking inside. your daughter fiddles with her hands becoming more anxious with every second passed on stage in complete silence.

it's one of the worst feelings to experience as a parent; the panic of not knowing what to do or how to comfort your child in a situation and to be honest your heart just breaks.

before your mind could even comprehend to go and pick up your daughter Sukuna stands up with urgency and walks over to the stage. the whispers and murmurs continue until you see your husband getting up on stage and joining your daughter.

he kneels down and whispers something in her ears before taking her hand. the two of them face the crowd and before you know it their lips begin to move in time with the piano instrumental.

your confusion melts into a smile once you realise that the sukuna ryomen is...singing. on stage in front of everyone. for his precious baby girl.

his voice is gruff compared to your daughter's sweet tone but he's in tune and on time with the lyrics. you had no idea he had learned the lyrics this well. the words came to him naturally with so much ease and perfect timing right and everything. he accompanies her throughout the whole song and you watch her pick up her confidence with her dad by her side.

they finish the song and the crowd of parents and kids on stage clap with cheers and whoops. and your husband and daughter take their well deserved bow. coming off stage sukuna is praised by all the parents out there, standing immediately and patting his back.

'i don't know what i would have done if it was my kid, good job out there'

'mr ryomen I didn't know you could sing'

'you two were great! you should be very proud of yourselves!'

they quickly find you through the crowd of parents reuniting with their own children and lift your daughter into a hug.

you kiss her chubby cheek and congratulate her for doing so well out there and she gives toothy smile, 'i couldn't have done it without papa.'

'that's true, my love.' you grin, 'but you did so well, m'so proud of you for being so brave.'

sukuna stands by awkwardly, a tinge of pink appearing on his cheeks as all eyes seem to be on him in the room. but he keeps his focus on his daughter and shuffles her pink hair, ' you did well brat.'

'thank you papa.'

after letting your daughter run off and wave goodbye to her friends for the night, you turn to sukuna with a grin.

'wow...I didn't know someone had a good singing voice.'

'yeah, yeah, just don't make a big deal about it.' he groans under his breath, a hand scratching the back of his neck.

‘mr popular huh’ you murmur, watching as parents continue to give their congratulations. 'don't let the fame rush to your head now, kuna'

'if she wasn't part of it i'd make you delete that goddamn video.'

you hum along, 'You know I'll rewatch it tonight.'

'whatever, knock yourself out.'

[chuxmy]

I wanted to request a sieun fic.. kind of like a "they really want each other, but don't want to give in" type of fic, until they both reach a breaking point.. if that makes sense.. and can it contain smut?? please and thank you🩷

Tension and Desire

Pairings: Yeon Sieun x Fem!Reader

Summary: It‘s really akward for Soo-Ho to watch, how you have feelings for each other so he’s going to push Sieun to take the next step.

Warnings: Smut (mdni), mutual pining, first time, friends to lovers, degeneration

A/N: I was a little bit unsure how to write the smut part but I figured it out yeaah and it got a tiny bit longer. Enjoooy

The bell had rung ten minutes ago, but half the class was still dragging their feet about leaving. Bags unzipped, snacks out, the usual low hum of end-of-day chatter filling the room like static.

Your PoV

You leaned against the window ledge, half-listening to your friend tell a story about something that happened in gym class, nodding and laughing in the right places, but not fully there. The air in the classroom felt heavy today not suffocating, just… off. Like something unsaid was lingering in the space.

And you knew exactly where it was coming from.

You didn’t even need to look to know that Yeon Sieun was watching you again.

You’d grown used to the way his eyes would find you in class quiet, unassuming, never obvious. But always intense. Like he was studying you for a test only he was taking.

You’d caught him once. A few days ago. Just a flicker of eye contact that sent something sharp and strange down your spine. He’d looked away fast, pretending like nothing happened. You didn’t push.

But now, it was happening again.

You shifted slightly, stealing a glance over your friend’s shoulder.

There he was sitting in his seat with his chin resting on one hand, elbow propped against his desk, body still as stone. Just watching.

No book open. No phone in hand. Just you in his line of sight.

And the weird part?

He didn’t even seem to realize he was doing it.

“Are you even listening to me?” your friend teased, nudging you.

You blinked. “Sorry. Zoned out.”

They followed your gaze and let out a low, amused laugh. “Yeon Sieun’s been staring at you like that for ten minutes. You gonna say something?”

You tried to play it off with a shrug. “He’s always like that.”

“Like that?” they raised an eyebrow.

You didn’t answer.

Because the truth was… no. He wasn’t always like that. Not with anyone else.

Something was different lately.

He’d gotten quieter. Still sharp when he spoke, still carrying that quiet steel he was known for but around you, it felt like he was trying to hold something back. Like if he let it out, it might ruin everything.

You turned your head just in time to see Soo-Ho walking up to him.

He dropped into the chair next to Sieun like he belonged there casual but direct, voice low so no one else could hear. You couldn’t make out the words, but Sieun’s reaction was immediate: tense shoulders, clenched jaw, fingers tapping against the desk like he needed something to do with them.

Soo-Ho’s hand clapped his shoulder once before he stood and left, as quickly as he came.

Sieun didn’t move.

Didn’t look at you again either.

You felt your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t name.

Your friend leaned in, whispering, “That looked serious.”

You nodded slowly, gaze lingering on Sieun.

Yeah.

Something was definitely coming.

You just didn’t know what.

Sieun‘s PoV

You were laughing with a friend by the windows, voice soft but clear enough that Sieun could pick out every word if he tried. And he was trying.

Sieun sat alone, as always, near the back.

Elbows on his desk, eyes locked on you. Not with obvious hunger, not in a way anyone else might notice. Just quiet. Fixed. The same way he looked at problems he couldn’t solve. Like you were a complicated equation he hadn’t figured out yet. Like if he stared long enough, the answer might reveal itself.

You glanced over once.

He looked away so fast it was almost unnatural, gaze shifting to the blank page in his notebook like it had been fascinating all along.

It was nothing. Just another afternoon. Just another day where he sat still while his chest felt like it was burning from the inside out.

“You gonna keep acting like a corpse, or are you gonna do something about it?”

Soo-Ho’s voice cut through the haze.

Sieun didn’t look at him. Just kept his eyes on the same page, blank except for a faint indent where his pen had hovered.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sieun muttered.

Soo-Ho slid into the seat beside him with all the subtlety of a freight train. “You’ve been staring at them for, what, two weeks now?”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.”

Sieun sighed, sharp. “It doesn’t matter.”

Soo-Ho tilted his head, giving him that look the one that made people flinch because it always saw straight through them. “It matters when you look at someone like that. Like they’re the one thing keeping you upright.”

That hit harder than Sieun expected.

He looked up for a second. You were still there. Still laughing softly. Still out of reach.

“I don’t want to mess it up,” Sieun said, quieter now. “We’re friends. If I say something and it’s wrong—”

Soo-Ho cut him off. “You think staying silent doesn’t hurt just as bad?”

Sieun didn’t answer.

Soo-Ho leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, watching the tension coil in Sieun’s jaw like a rubber band about to snap.

“You know what happens when you wait too long?” he said calmly. “Someone else steps in. Or worse… nothing happens at all. And you just carry it around forever.”

Sieun’s throat tightened.

His fingers curled around the edge of his desk.

He didn’t trust himself to look at you again right now. Not without giving something away. Not without doing something reckless.

Soo-Ho stood, clapping a hand lightly on Sieun’s shoulder. “Feelings don’t go away just because you ignore them. You either deal with it, or it eats you up. Your choice.”

And then he walked off, leaving Sieun with nothing but the sound of your voice in the air and the sharp echo of his own heartbeat behind his ribs.

The clock on your nightstand blinked past 12:17 AM.

You were still awake.

Lying in bed, eyes wide open, staring up at the ceiling like it might start whispering answers to questions you hadn’t dared say aloud. The soft tapping of rain against your window had started maybe twenty minutes ago. It was light at first — a drizzle, gentle — but now it had turned steady, rhythmic. A hush over the city, soft but insistent.

You should’ve been asleep. You tried. Turned your pillow over twice. Burrowed into your blanket like maybe you could bury your thoughts too.

But he wouldn’t leave your head.

Yeon Sieun.

The way he stared at you in class like you were something he couldn’t get too close to — something fragile. Or dangerous. Or both.

The way Sooho whispered something to him earlier, and his whole body tensed like a bowstring. You’d seen it. That quiet unraveling.

You hated that you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Not just the glances. But the way you started noticing him more. The way your chest ached with something you couldn’t name when he looked away like he hadn’t just been staring at you like he was memorizing every inch of you.

You sat up.

Rain pattered harder outside. You looked toward the window, lips parting slightly.

Why did it feel like the air itself was trying to pull you out?

You slipped out of bed, bare feet brushing cool floorboards. You didn’t bother with much — just threw on a hoodie over your sleep shirt and slipped into your sneakers. The house was quiet as you crept out, door closing behind you with a soft click.

You didn’t even know where you were going.

You just… moved.

Let the rain wash over your thoughts as you walked the dim streets. The city was quiet, the kind of silence that only came when everyone else was asleep and your feelings had no one to hide from.

And then—

You saw him.

Your heart skipped.

“Sieun?”

You weren’t supposed to see him.

Not tonight. Not in the rain. Not like this.

But there he was, standing under the dull flicker of a streetlamp, his hood barely shielding him from the downpour. Rain slid down the sides of his face like sweat, hair soaked through and plastered to his forehead. His hands were tucked in the front pocket of his hoodie, shoulders hunched like he was trying to disappear into himself.

He hadn’t noticed you yet.

Maybe you should’ve turned around. Let him have this moment alone.

But your feet moved before your thoughts did.

“Sieun?”

His head snapped up. For a second, he looked like he might pretend he didn’t hear you. His mouth opened slightly no word, no sharp retort. Just the soft widening of his eyes.

“…What are you doing out here?” you asked.

His answer was delayed, his jaw tightening. “Does it matter?”

You stood a few steps away, soaked to the skin. You didn’t care.

“I was walking. Couldn’t sleep.” Your voice was low, a breath under the patter of rain. “You?”

He swallowed, eyes flickering away. “I don’t know.”

You didn’t need to ask. You’d seen him like this before when he was thinking too much, when something heavy was curling inside his chest and he didn’t know what to do with it.

You took another step closer. “Did Soo-Ho say something to you?”

He stiffened. That was enough of an answer.

You sighed. “You’ve been weird lately.”

“You’re the one who showed up in the rain,” he said quietly.

You let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh. “You’re deflecting.”

Silence again. Just the rain falling between you.

And then, so quietly you almost missed it “He told me to stop being a coward.”

You blinked. “What?”

Sieun looked up at you, really looked at you. His face wasn’t unreadable tonight. It was raw. Nervous.

“He told me to stop pretending like I didn’t feel something.” His voice was quieter now, almost lost in the sound of the rain hitting pavement. “That if I kept running from it, I’d lose my chance.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The air felt too cold and too warm at once.

“And are you?” you asked. “Running?”

He didn’t answer. His fingers clenched inside the hoodie pocket.

“I didn’t want to screw this up,” he said finally, voice strained. “We’re friends. You… you matter to me.”

You took a shaky step closer. “Then don’t run.”

Sieun let out a shaky exhale like something in him cracked.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he whispered.

His voice wasn’t full of bravado or confidence or sarcasm. It was bare. Unfiltered.

You stood in front of him now, the rain soaking through both of you. “Neither do I. But I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

There was a beat a pause so sharp it felt like the world stopped moving.

And then he kissed you.

No warning. No hesitation. Just lips crashing into yours like a wave, like all the restraint he’d wrapped around himself had finally given way.

You gasped against his mouth, your hands tangling into the front of his soaked hoodie. His lips were trembling, unsure.

The kiss wasn’t perfect. It was desperate and clumsy and soaking wet, teeth grazing, breath uneven. He pulled back just an inch, eyes wide, lips swollen.

“You okay?” you whispered.

Sieun nodded, chest heaving. “I—Yeah. I just…”

He leaned in again, slower this time. Softer. His hand came up, fingers brushing your jaw so carefully, so tentatively, like he was afraid you might disappear if he touched too hard.

And when his lips found yours again, it was different.

It wasn’t a crash.

It was a confession.

Your body pressed closer, your hands sliding up beneath his hoodie, fingertips tracing the edge of his damp shirt, the curve of his back. He shivered under your touch, every muscle taut.

The rain was falling harder now, but neither of you moved.

And then you pulled back slightly, lips inches from his. “Come with me.”

Sieun hesitated, eyes flicking across your face. You could see the war in him. The desire. The fear.

But he nodded.

Still damp, breathless. The sound of the rain muffled behind closed doors.

You handed him a towel, the soft fabric warm against your skin as he took it, his eyes never leaving yours. They held an intensity that made your pulse quicken, an electric charge in the air between you. Every drop of water that glistened on his damp hoodie clung to his form, outlining the lean, toned muscles beneath. You felt an undeniable pull towards him; a magnetic draw that was impossible to resist.

With a flick of your wrist, you peeled your wet shirt off, the fabric sliding down your arms and pooling on the floor, leaving you bare and exposed. His breath caught in his throat, a flicker of surprise illuminating his features before his gaze dropped, only to snap back to yours with an urgency that made your heart race.

His ears flushed a deep crimson, a color that made you almost smile with delight at the shyness radiating from him.

"You've never...?" you asked softly, your voice laced with curiosity and invitation.

He shook his head, the simple act of it sent a shiver of vulnerability coursing through him. “No. I just—I don’t know what to do.”

You stepped closer, allowing your fingers to brush against the damp warmth of his cheek, your touch light yet electric. “You don’t have to know anything. Just feel.”

As if your words held a spell, something within him seemed to break free. He closed the distance, leaning in again, movements tentative yet yearning, his hands sliding beneath your shirt. He was learning you with every hesitant caress, exploring every inch like you were a cherished treasure, and each tender brush of his fingers sent heat pooling in the depths of your being.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice tight, eyes wide with a mix of awe and uncertainty.

With a fervent nod, you breathed, “More than okay.”

When his lips finally found yours again, the kiss was imbued with a newfound certainty. It was a passionate meeting of feelings, a palpable hunger igniting the air around you. His hands roamed up your sides, exploring the curve of your waist, brushing over your ribs, hesitating at the swell of your breasts, each touch igniting a bright, fierce pulse of desire within you.

He began trailing kisses down your neck, every drag of his lips slower and more assured than the last, as though imprinting the taste of you onto his memory. You tilted your head back, granting him more access, feeling his breath warm against your skin. Your heart raced as you felt his fingers tremble at the waistband of your pants, hesitation threading through his movements.

"You can," you encouraged softly, each syllable dripping with longing. "I want you to."

He exhaled shakily, resting his forehead against yours, seeking guidance in your gaze. “Tell me what to do.”

With gentle insistence, you guided his hands, leading them down your waist and over the fabric of your pants. Your body began to arch into him, responding to his touch like a flower stretching toward the sun. You let him undress you piece by piece, feeling the warmth of his fingers against your thighs as you peeled the fabric away, baring yourself completely to him. His eyes darkened with wonder and desire, hungry for every inch of you, taking in the sight as if he were memorizing a sacred spell.

When you finally pushed him to shed his own clothes, he hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty catching in his voice.

You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing against the heat of his skin. “You’re perfect,” you reassured, and a soft sigh escaped his lips, the tension in his shoulders loosening as he absorbed your words

You climbed onto the bed, inviting him to follow, and felt the weight of his body as he settled above you. His form was solid and grounding, and when his lips connected with yours again, it was a slow burn that ignited your senses. You were both exploring, unraveling, discovering the depths of what you craved.

As you guided him and your bodies began to pulse together, the room filled with the sound of your soft breaths and the mingling of your heartbeats. His hands roamed hungrily, mapping every curve, every contour of your skin, fingers trailing down your sides, resting at the swell of your thighs to tease and coax.

When he finally slid into you, there was a moment of stillness. He froze, eyes wide with surprise as sensations cascaded through him.

“Ohh…” he groaned, voice trembling with awe. “I didn’t know it would feel like this.”

You whispered encouragement, soft and sultry as you wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him closer. “You’re doing so good, Sieun. Just breathe and move with me.”

With each thrust, he found his rhythm, unsure at first but slowly gaining confidence as your bodies danced together in sync. Each push brought new sensations, new depths, a visceral connection that shot straight to your core. His breath hitched on every gasp, every moan, and the feel of him inside you sent tremors of ecstasy through your body.

Your hands clutched at his back, nails digging slightly as pleasure built between you both. The sensations expanded, a tidal wave of electric pleasure lapping at the edges of your consciousness, drowning you in waves of bliss.

“God, it feels so good,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, and his rhythm began to quicken as your gasps turned into soft cries that spurred him on, every thrust more assured than the last.

You could feel him unraveling, every sweep of his hips igniting a fire within you that burned brighter and hotter.

“Please, don’t stop,” you pleaded, words tumbling from your lips like a prayer, urging him on to push deeper, to connect more fully.

As his pace grew faster, the tension built until it became an almost unbearable pressure, a coiling spring ready to snap. His breath caught as he felt your walls tightening around him, drawing him in closer, deeper, as the world began to blur.

When the moment finally arrived, it washed over you like a tsunami, a powerful rush of ecstasy that felt like you were both being swept away. He gasped your name, a broken utterance that resonated in the depths of your soul as you shattered together, his body trembling against yours.

His hips stuttered, and you felt him release, every wave of pleasure intermingling as you both succumbed to the blissful aftermath. You clung to each other, bodies entwined, as he collapsed against you, panting, his forehead resting on your shoulder, grounding you in the blissful haze.

After a moment of shared silence, he whispered, “Did I… was that okay?”

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, pulling him even closer. “More than okay.”

He shifted to lie next to you, turning so you were face to face, fingers brushing over your cheek with a tenderness that felt sacred.

“I didn’t think you’d want me,” he said softly, a hint of vulnerability threading through his voice.

“I always did,” you confessed, your words a promise held deep in your heart.

He laced his fingers with yours, a silent vow passing between you, sealing the moment. Outside, the rain continued to fall, an echoing reminder of the world outside. But inside, everything had changed; you had crossed a threshold into a realm of newfound intimacy that echoed with the promise of more to come, a bond strengthened by the embers of your shared passion.

[leighsartworks216]

Yeah, 'Cause Maybe Then You'd Want Me Just As Much

Sylus x Mephisto!Reader

In the actual Nightplumes memory, Mephisto actually gets along with the dove but um fuck that, we want it to hurt. Also wanna say the "I'm busy right now" line is from the actual game, which inspired this tbh

Title from "Girl Crush" by Little Big Town

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, jealousy, self-esteem issues, self-worth issues, body dysphoria, shapeshifting, biting, fear of water, storms, pet names, crying, possibly ooc

Word Count: 3,699

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Ugh, doves. They think they're sooo perfect just because they're so round and cute and everyone loves them. Those pathetic little coos. A bird should make real noise, not just those dumb sounds.

So why is Sylus - a man whom you were led to believe had good tastes in avian creatures - giving it so much attention?

You bite his earlobe. His head jerks away on reflex, a soft hiss escaping through his teeth. "Behave," he chides. Doesn't even look at you.

You glare down at the pathetic dove again. Somehow it hurt its wing. And for some godforsaken reason Miss Hunter brought it to Sylus to look after. You know for a fact she has a doctor friend, why not foist it on him until she gets back from her trip? Yeah, Sylus is great with animals, but that's beside the point.

You bite his ear again. He sighs. "Do I have to send you on a mission?" You bristle at the question, feathers standing on end. His brow is furrowed as he gets back to examining the dove's wing. It's not even a bad break; it'll recover in no time.

So why can't he spare a second on you?

You try a different approach. With a more delicate touch, you preen the ends of his hair. He still doesn't glance your way. "I'm busy right now. Go entertain yourself for a bit."

Oh...

You step awkwardly on his shoulder, feeling suddenly too out of place there. Your wing almost clips his head as you take off for your perch. Even here, the wood just feels wrong under your feet. Your feathers are ruffled. They can't seem to relax. A chasm opens in your heart. Synthetic as it may be, you can still feel it. Like a black hole, sucking in all the light.

The dove coos. You can't stay in here. You slip out of an open window and fly off. Where to, you have no idea. Anywhere but here.

"Anywhere" lands you outside the window of a fourth floor hotel room. The light is still on, just a small lamp by the bed, but it's enough to see a familiar figure sitting against the headboard reading a mission brief. You tap on the glass.

Miss Hunter looks up with a start. The surprise quickly turns to a frown. She gets up in a huff and jerks the curtains closed.

You can hear a phone ringing inside a second later.

"Sylus! What have I told you about sending your bird to spy on me?!"

The faint crackle of Sylus's voice answers with a sharp scoff. "I haven't told Mephisto to do anything," he retorts.

"Then why is it outside my window right now, huh?!"

"Why don't you ask?" he teases dryly. "Maybe they missed picking fights with you."

"You-!"

"Goodnight, kitten."

The beep of an ended call. You tap on the glass again, softer this time.

Miss Hunter huffs inside. Moments pass, but the curtains remain drawn shut. You can't tell if the lamp has been turned off; you can't even hear her moving around. Maybe she's decided to take the "out of sight, out of mind" approach. Unsurprising, really. If she isn't ignoring you, she's shouting abuse at you.

A large crack of thunder rumbles through your circuits, stirring the air with electricity. You hadn't even noticed the weather - the clouds are dark, covering every sliver of sky for miles.

You tap on the glass more urgently.

The first droplets of rain begin to fall. Slow, random. And then more and more, all at once in a barrage of water. You press yourself tighter to the window and tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap-

The curtains are thrown open. The window lifts from its sill. Before she can angrily ask why you won't leave her alone, you fly in as quick as you can. Just in the nick of time, it seems, as the rain turns into a proper storm, lightning firing through the sky in a burst of light. You tumble onto the end of the bed, feathers ruffled.

She huffs as she slides the window shut, ready to tease you or yell at you, but another loud boom of thunder makes her flinch and close the curtains quickly, words stolen. "Fine! I guess you can... stay the night," she relents. She rounds the bed to sit back down where she was before. She picks up the tablet with her mission data and holds it up, pointing at you accusingly. "And no telling Sylus about anything you see here, got it?"

You caw back at her. You don't wanna tell Sylus anything right now. It might distract him from his sweet, precious dove...

Knees bent, she sets the tablet on her thighs and starts reading again. Rain hits against the window, picked up by a growing wind that slams it into the hotel building. Another shock of thunder. She curls slightly more into herself.

You preen your feathers. Align them all once more, clean them from the long flight here, soothe your nerves. All the while watching Miss Hunter's reactions to the storm. With every boom of thunder, she's startled from her reading. She does well trying to hide it. You can see the twitch in her eyes, the tension in her shoulders and hands as she holds tighter to the tablet, the way her knees pull in slightly more. It doesn't take a genius to see what's happening. The real question is why she's not doing anything to deal with it. Is it because she's trying to play it cool with you around? Not giving anything away so you'd have less to report back with?

You look around the room. It's nothing special. Certainly nothing as luxurious as the suites Sylus stays in. A suitcase is on the floor by the tv stand. A work bag is set on the desk. The perfect amount of stuff for a week-long work trip, you suppose.

You fly over to the desk, nails ticking against the wood.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

You poke your beak into a few of the pockets on the bag.

"Leave that alone! Don't go through my stuff!"

You wonder for a moment how soundproof these walls are, and just how confused someone listening in would be when she's answered by the caw of a crow.

You finally find what you're looking for in a side pocket and pull it out. It doesn't really fit well in your beak, but you make do. She's just tossed her tablet aside to jump up and bolt over to you, but she stops when you fly back over to the bed.

She blinks at you, confused. "What are you...?" You hop across the cheap bedding and hold out the item to her. She hesitantly accepts your offering, and you drop the earphone case in her hand. Understanding dawns on her. "Oh... thanks."

You walk to the other side of the bed, going around the tablet to roost on top of the untouched pillow. It's kinda hard and lumpy, but at least you're not outside. With that much water, you'd certainly shut down. You have no idea how Sylus would retrieve you if you had, way up here. A bitter part of you wonders if he would.

Miss Hunter watches as you tuck your beak under your wing. You don't really sleep during the night, but you'll manage. She slips the earphones in her ears and plays some music on her phone. The storm outside, the faint pulse of music, and her tapping on the tablet are the only sounds.

She opens the window for you in the morning, when the storm has passed. With one last warning not to follow her or report back to Sylus, she heads out for her mission and you take your time flying back home. She asked about the dove only once during your stay. A bandaid around her finger reminds her not to ask again.

-

"What time did you get back, pretty bird?" Sylus crosses the room from the doorway, fully dressed for the night and reaching out to scratch you under your chin.

You scoot away, further down your perch, glaring at the pretty white thing on his shoulder. He doesn't try to reach you. He lets you step away, hand dropping and eyebrow raised. "Are you going to be this feisty all week?"

You caw indignantly. Of course you are! That should be you perched up on his shoulder! You should be the one preening under his attention! Instead, Miss Hunter brings along a new, cute little thing, pestering him to take care of it "for her", and now it's the only bird around here he cares about.

He tsks. "You don't have to be jealous, sweetie. It's only for a week. As soon as she gets back, you'll never have to see it again."

The dove flies down from his shoulder to the perch. Your perch! You caw obscenities as you take its place on Sylus's shoulder - your rightful place. He winces at how loud you are directly in his ear, wings spread to give you a larger appearance as you speak your mind to the little dove that seems to only stare up blankly at you.

He smoothes a hand down your back. For a moment you forget how angry you are with him, too, for indulging Miss Hunter with this stupid task. For pushing you away in favor of caring for the pretty little dove. For not saying more when she called him about you. For just that moment, the firing synapses of your circuitry tingle pleasantly where his fingers brush over your feathers and seeing the dove on your perch becomes bearable as you stand on his shoulder, your favorite perch of all.

"Easy, pretty bird. It knows this is your territory," he assures. "It's still young, that's all."

And then you remember that none of this would be happening if this damn bird wasn't here.

You caw one last time at the dove, nibble harshly at Sylus's ear, and retreat through the living room door. You follow the familiar twists and turns up into the tallest heights of the base, into an alcove full of your treasures and soft bedding. You don't come up here often anymore, but it feels safe. The one spot of the house that really is just yours; no matter what Sylus says, this is his territory, you're just given more allowances than other people. And thanks to the times in the past when the twins would try to toss things up as a competition, tossing pebbles and jewels and even bullets, you have the privilege of pulling shut a little door, fully isolating yourself in your sanctuary.

Small lights turn on at the flip of a switch that makes a pleasant click. They shine and shimmer against your piles of trinkets. Coins, jewels, jewelry, a shell casing or two - all in their respective piles.

You hop over to your nest: the finest twigs woven together into a bowl shape, with strips of soft fabric lining the inside. Laying in it is like resting in cupped hands. You imagine they're Sylus's hands, clean from ever having held any other bird in his lifetime. His thumbs smoothing down your sides until your feathers are fluffed and eyes are relaxed shut. Pressing soft kisses to your head as he talks to you. You want to be cared for like that. Is the dove getting that same attention?

You get up from your nest. You can't think about it. Can't allow yourself to linger on the thought for any longer than you already have. So you sort through your things. You begin dividing them up into new piles with a different organization system. One by one, everything is shifted over. You're not sure how long it takes. You don't care.

But once you've finished, it feels wrong. Settles uneasily in your gut. Everything is out of place, even though it's all organized. Everything isn't where it should be. You spend even longer sorting it all back.

-

You squeeze your eyes shut. Tighten your hands into fists. Dig your nails into your palm as you will your shape to change. Grit your teeth as metal panels try to shift in unusual ways. Synthetic feathers standing up along your head, neck, back and arms, shuttering with the strain.

You release a breath and everything comes back together; metal in place, feathers laying flat, body un-tensed. You pant softly. Inhale deeply, and try again.

It feels wrong. It's like trying to squeeze into a too-small shirt. It won't happen, and the more you try to force it, the more it hurts, the more uncomfortable you are, and the more the fabric strains at the seams.

You gasp deeply. You're lightheaded. You wobble where you sit on the roof, supporting yourself unsteadily against the snow-laden tiles. It takes a minute to pass. Your skin feels misaligned, like a twisted sock. You try to ignore it; it just means you're a little bit closer to succeeding.

"I thought I might find you up here."

You turn away from the voice. From the sound of Sylus's shoes against the roofing. He sits down a few feet away, eyes never giving up their gaze on you. You hate it. For all the time you've known him, his attention on you has never made you uncomfortable or unsettled. Now, you wish he'd just look anywhere else. Go anywhere else.

Secretly, deep down, you're glad he's finally looking at you again.

He tilts his head. Frowns at the strange way your feathers stick up, and the odd shift of the synthetic skin on your back. "The dove is gone," he says.

You nod. "I know."

Quiet.

"Do you want me to apologize?" he asks.

You shrug. "Doesn't matter. It's gone."

"But you're still upset."

You pull your knees to your chest, but you can't pull them up as far as you'd like to. It's like there's too much strain. A rubber band drawn too far out and waiting to snap or break under the tension. You try to ignore it. Play it off. Pretend everything is normal and that this is intentional.

He doesn't buy it for a second. It's the curse of growing up with him. Of being by his side most of your lives. Of course he knows something is wrong.

You listen to the shifting of fabric behind you. Nearly jump at the feeling of cloth placed on your shoulders. His heavy black coat, long and still warm from his body. You don't feel the falling snow. Yet you can't stop yourself from pulling the front closed around you.

His fingers skillfully brush along your feathers, soothing them down with ease. And yet they keep standing back up a moment after, revealing the distress of your thoughts. Before he can say anything, you do.

"Do you wish I was a dove?"

His hand stops, pausing mid pet. He reaches out to turn you toward him. One hand on your knee to face you to him, the other on your shoulder. You wince as he does. And he notices - of course he notices. He's frowning, brow furrowed, as he pulls aside his coat to expose your legs further. You don't meet his eyes, but you feel them.

"Is that what you've been trying to do up here?" he questions, voice tight with concern and gravity. "You can't force yourself into changing-"

"But if I could, would that make you happier?"

You meet his gaze. Imploring, begging him to tell you. Tell you that he's been distant this week because he realized just how much better doves are. Because he realized how much trouble you are, mechanized and synthetic and fake. Because you aren't enough now that you can't be anything more than you are.

His large hands rise to your face, holding your cheeks, keeping your attention on him. He leans forward slightly, foreheads not quite touching. "If you could change again, I would be happy to see you become anything you wanted. Whether that means becoming a dove, or a hawk, or a hummingbird. The shape you take doesn't matter to me, because I fell in love with you. Crow, or dove, or human. Just you."

You search his eyes. Those pretty garnet eyes. Searching for any hint of a lie. But you already know he means it. "You were so dismissive of me..."

He frowns, brow pinched, but he nods. He doesn't deny it. "I know. I'm sorry."

Emotion chokes up in your throat. "You didn't even ask Miss Hunter about me. Or- Or keep that dove from getting up on your shoulder." You hate that you can feel your face crumpling as tears bite your waterline. See the pain in his face as he diligently wipes away the ones that slip free. You hate that you're so emotional over this - over a stupid bird, but- "I don't want to be replaceable. I don't want to be just a pet to you."

"You're not-"

"Then act like it!" His eyes widen, shocked by your outburst. "Just stop pushing me away for Miss Hunter. Stop... stop waving me off and ignoring me. You're all I have, Sylus. I can't- I don't want to be replaced."

A sob tears its way out of you. Sylus can't recall a time he ever saw you crying - before or after the experiments. You were always happy, or curious, or angry. But never had you cried. Synthetic tears wash down your face, and it's his fault. An ache clenches his heart like a closed fist. He did this. He pushed you away, he made you feel unworthy, unimportant. Let a dove take liberties in your territory.

He draws you into his chest, arms wrapping tightly around you. You don't resist, even as he feels your feathers standing on end. They shudder with your cries. He smoothes his palms over them. Brushes them down, scratches the nape of your neck as he gently shushes you. You press your face into his collar. Your fingers curl tightly into his shirt. You hold on. Cling to him like he'll disappear if you loosen up for even a second.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs against your head. He means it. Deeply. "I should have acted differently. You are my closest friend. My beloved. And I ignored you."

He rubs your back overtop his coat, slowly. Feeling along your spine, your shoulder blades. It's still misaligned. Shifted out of place. You're in pain - because of him.

He's careful as he gathers you into his arms. He scoops you up, cradles you against him while doing his best not to hurt you further; he can't bear the thought of making things worse than he already has. Snow crunches beneath his feet as he stands on the tiles. He turns and begins carrying you inside.

"Let's take care of you now, pretty bird."

-

Just like trying to squeeze into a too-tight shirt, the removal can be tricky. Sylus makes it seem easy.

He rotates your legs until they pop back into the ball-joint, never lingering any longer than he has to. You lay on your stomach, quietly sniffling, while he seems to massage your back, slowly easing the metal into place. Each fix releases the strain. Each soft click eases your feathers back into a resting position.

When he's finished, he helps you sit up. Your legs overhang the table, dangling in the air. He doesn't look at you at first. Busies himself with grabbing a cloth. But then he looks you in the eye as he wipes away the watery formula of your tears. His brow is tight. Lips pulled down into a frown. His eyes, filled with remorse. You can almost see the plan formulating: all the auctions he could go to to buy the shiniest, most interesting things you love to cheer you up; of all the jewels in his treasuries, which would you like the most, if he doesn't just give them all to you; where will Miss Hunter be and when to give you the perfect opportunity to play tricks on her.

You don't want any of them right now. After a week of being pushed aside, of being distant, all you want is right here in front of you.

You nudge his hand away. He obeys without hesitation, dropping the cloth to the table and holding it there, restraining himself. He watches, slightly bewildered, as you reach out for him. You wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him down to your height, and hold him there.

He stands still. Doesn't do anything.

You squeeze him around his shoulders and he finally moves. Arms circle your waist, hands resting open against your back. You breathe him in, soak in his warmth. Your feathers finally relax. You finally relax.

"I don't hate you," you whisper beside his ear.

He releases a long breath, shoulders sagging under your arms. He's still tentative, still careful as he brushes his nose against your temple. "How can I make it up to you?"

A thousand diamonds. A million. No amount is too much. Nothing too far for him to reach. He would bake in the sun for a week if you said. Fly across the globe in search of the perfect pebble. Give you a whole new set of feathers, darker than midnight and softer than a kiss. He's prepared to give it all - what lengths will you have him go to absolve himself? What would it take for you to forgive him? How can he fix the damage he caused?

"Stay with me."

"You can ask for anything."

You shake your head. Turn your head to bury your face solidly in his neck. "I just want you again."

'Again' tears his heart to shreds. He scoops you up once more, trading places so he sits on the edge of the table with you in his lap. Your territory. "You'll always have me," he swears. "And I will spend lifetimes making sure you never doubt that ever again."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @lalaluch @nothankyew @terriblesoup @jeleryyy @nezuswritingdesk @anaathxma @ssushi @mina7820 @monophobix @mentaltrouble2201 @mskaylacharite @nerrivm @ichosesparklingtorment @schnittled @animegamerfox @flamedancer13 @rebloggingislove @moonlight-inthe-sea @persepolys @satorubabee @sleepykittycx @perla-drg @17chuuya @slovesyouuu @leiakitty @lemonn015

[mickyschumacher]

Hello ! How are you ? I would request a Imagine with Isack Hadjar x Fem Reader smut if you can and if you are okay with that if it's not, it's okay

Thank you !

[THE TOUCH OF YOUR LIPS!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: isack and you have found some... advice to help you with your stress. and while it's been pretty helpful, a new realisation has decided to slap you in the face. or in which friends with benefits isn't really working out anymore.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors dni), friends with benefits but friends beforehand, some fluff, jealousy, blowjob, slight handjob, isack kinda possessive 🙂‍↔️, poor humour, isack being cute and shit, paul possibly finding an early deathbed (my bad), a lack of thanking franco :( // sorta proof-read

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: isack hadjar x mercedes!driver!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3.7k+

𝐀/𝐍: isack hadjar smut?? OFCCCCC IT'D BE ME! (one would proclaim there it isn't enough of it 😔) sincerely a girl who could maybeeee write a pt 2 xx p.s. kinda wrote this after that interview franco gave.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Racing by no means was easy. It required a sort of aggression unlike any other. It invoked stress down to the very atom, impacting how one drove.

So by the very famous advice of Franco Colapinto, one should take steps to alleviate such stress.

The idea actually belonged to Franco when both you and Isack had come to him with burdened shoulders after the third race.

While some found Suzuka boring to watch this year. You and Isack had been fighting to keep yourselves in the top ten. You had to admit being in a Mercedes made it slightly easier. But at this rate... it was anyone's points to win.

On your small break, you and Isack had met Franco for lunch, giving each other advice and simply just being there for each other. After complaining about the stress, the Argentine had only looked the both of you dead in the eye and said, "You both you need to get laid."

"I–What?" You spluttered while Isack's eyes turned wide at the recommendation.

Franco leaned back in his chair with a small shrug. "I did it all the time last year. Before a race... before quali... it really helps you relax. And you burn off weight for the car."

You blinked blankly, turning to Isack with a raised brow as though you were questioning whether Franco was truly sane or not. Isack only shrugged, ears tinged red.

A sigh fell from Franco's lips. Bending forward, he looked at the both of you firmly. "Look... it's not up to me how you do it. With each other. A stranger. A friend. As long as you have some chemistry, anyone will work. You just need to remove the stress from your body."

━━━━━━━━━━━

Franco's advice, although slightly crude, was admissible.

You thought about it for days after you had met. When was the last time you had even pleasured yourself let alone gotten laid? Weeks? God forbid... months?

You had committed so much of your life to your career that you had put an indefinite halt on your love life, including all intimate matters. You didn't want a single distraction until you had achieved what you desired: the World Champion title.

But now it seemed your decision had backfired and was now impacting your ability to get that damn title.

You didn't even know Isack was considering Franco's advice until he showed up to your hotel later that evening and asked you with the most flushed cheeks whether you 'join' him on Franco's proposition.

And that was that.

It was simple.

You and Isack were friends with benefits. If either of you felt too stressed or perhaps in need of someone, you would call each other.

There were rules to it, of course.

Don't abuse the relationship. Each occurrence should be mutually decided. You couldn't just snatch someone away to get what you wanted.

Keep this completely secret. Not only would the journalists have an absolute field day with this. Your publicists would probably kill you and you didn't feel like risking your seat.

If one of you wants it to end, it ends right there and then. No questions asked.

Lastly, and most importantly, you're only friends with benefits. Nothing more. This should never impact your friendship of five years.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Franco was absolutely right. Getting laid was the most relaxing choice you had ever made. People were beginning to question how you and Isack were able to be so 'level-headed' throughout races.

Isack barely felt like touching the radio button in the past month and you didn't need five minutes of down time each time you came out of the car.

It was perfect.

Isack got you in ways no one ever had. Perhaps it was because he knew you well enough already but he always knew what buttons to press. How to get you hot and bothered. How to maximise your pleasure. You had always thought his nose could serve a better purpose else where (between your legs preferably).

Not that you were any better. Just one look from you was enough to send Isack to the bathroom, begging for you to come and help him.

Today, however, was slightly different.

You were in Miami a few days earlier than media day. Some of the drivers, including you, had been invited to a club opening created by a superfan.

You hadn't thought much about it until Paul pleaded for you to go, citing that he didn't want to be alone in such a boring place. So you agreed, momentarily forgetting Isack would be there.

But you were quickly reminded as you watched Yuki introduce a girl to Isack from across the room.

"What is going on there?" You asked Paul and Jack.

Paul tilted his head, eyes moving to the direction you were looking in while Jack seemed to answer your question. "I think she's the girl being set up. Pierre said Yuki was introducing someone to Isack. I think Yuki's girlfriend knows her."

In any other circumstance, you would be flooded with happiness. But for some reason, you felt deathly sick. Like your stomach had just dropped all over the floor.

You watched Isack smile at her, giving her a brief warm hug. The girl seemed sweet, positively beaming at him.

You chewed on your lips. God, why were you feeling like this? It was like irritation was coursing through your veins. His laugh echoed in your ears and it infuriated you.

"Are you alright?" Jack asked, looking slightly concerned for you.

Paul averted his eyes to you, stopping his conversation with Esteban. "Yeah... you look kind of pale. Are you feeling well?"

You opened your mouth, immediately about to refute their concerns when it dawned on you.

You were jealous.

You were fucking jealous.

Not of Isack.

But of the girl.

Fuck.

Fuck.

You cleared your throat, giving the two boys a tight smile while you nodded. "I'm fine. Just need to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back."

Although unconvinced, Jack and Paul nodded in return.

You stood up from your swear, heading towards the bathroom, unaware that Isack's eyes were already on you.

Manoeuvring past the dancing bodies, your mind was beginning to overthink.

How could this happen? Why was this happening?

Where on earth had you crossed the line between friends, a little something more, and something else entirely?

The memories flooded your brain, hitting you one after another.

The moments where you laid on Isack's chest after you finished and you'd talk for hours and hours.

The sneaky kisses he pleaded for as he pulled you around the corner, risking everyone seeing the both of you. And all you did was laugh while you encouraged him.

Was it perhaps when he'd ask to meet you in the middle of the night when you couldn't sleep just to take a walk?

Perhaps when he surprised you every morning with your favourite sweet treat before you walked the track?

Or the moments Isack asked you repeat his name like a mantra, asking you who made you feel this good while he hovered over you, cheeks flushed with red and skin riddled with sweat?

"Shit," you sighed, head hanging low while you stared hard at the marble counter of the sink.

Goddamnit.

The one thing you weren't supposed to do.

And you had gone and done it.

You rubbed your face, exhaustion slowly taking over it. Lifting your face, you stared at yourself. What were you going to do now?

You should end it, a voice echoed in your head.

Another voice quipped back. But she can't... can you?

Your shoulders slumped. What would it matter? Soon enough he'd have a girlfriend and whatever you had would be in the past. Just like how it was supposed to be.

━━━━━━━━━━━

"Hey... are you alright?" Isack's voice disrupted your silence as you sat outside your team's hospitality unit.

You peeled your eyes from your phone and looked at him, ignoring the small waver in your heart. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?" You asked with a small smile that held all the feigned cluelessness in the world.

Isack's brown eyes darted around, lips pursed in the search of finding the right words. He swallowed, "I just... you haven't been responding so I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Ah...

Right.

He had messaged you numerous times since the night at the club, including why you had left so early. And for none of them could you bring yourself to respond.

Every time you saw his name grace your phone, a flashback of that girl came into your head. No matter what... you couldn't shake the weird feeling in your chest.

The last thing you could do was tell Isack. So you did what you knew best. Run and avoid.

"Yeah... sorry. I've just had a lot on my mind, so," You shrugged, body at slight ease as you technically weren't lying.

Isack chuckled softly, a dangerous rhythm for your heart. "I thought that's what we were meeting for."

There it was. The sore reminder. That this was all it was. Because why on earth would it be anything more?

"I know, I know..." You gave him a tight smile. "I just didn't think the weekend would turn out like this."

The weekend in question was two practices where you had consistently cleared everyone by a second. God knows how. The car barely had any pace to begin with. But something in Miami was clicking with you. And all of a sudden, your name was being mentioned for pole.

He nodded in agreement. "Neither. But hey, I'm proud of you. You're doing a great job," he smiled widely, rubbing your shoulder affectionately.

You sucked in a sharp breath, pressing down the small clench of your chest. "Thanks," you murmured.

Fucking hell...

You thought ignoring him would help you. But it had only made things worse.

"Do you want to meet after practice? Yuki recommended a really good restaurant and we should trust his taste considering how much of a foodie he is." Isack asked, hopeful eyes smiling down at you.

You gulped nervously, staring at him momentarily before sighing. Your shoulders slumped. "Listen... Isack, I think we should end... this." you winced at the awkwardness coating your voice.

Isack blinked. The rules you had made were long gone in his brain. "I... what? What do you mean? W-Why? Did something happen? Did I do something?"

You sighed once more. "It's not you. I just think it's a bit... distracting. I told myself I was going to focus on F1 and I don't know– I feel like I'm straying away from it."

You shifted almost uncomfortably under his gaze. He looked behind you before averting his attention back to you. "Is this about Paul?"

You were pretty sure you had officially lost it. "Paul? What about him?" You asked as the picture of your old Estonian friend came into mind.

Isack pursed his lips. "I... he came to me at the end of the night in club. Asking me where you went. Very concerned. Saying you hadn't been feeling well and I was finding out from him out of all people. Am I intruding on something?"

"I–what? No. Why on ear–" You blinked, finally registering that odd tone Isack sported. "I... Isack... why does it matter to you that he cares?"

Isack's eyes slightly widened. "What?" He huffed, feigning a careless shrug. He swallowed hard, slowly responding. "No... it doesn't..."

You nodded slowly. "Okay. So that's it then."

A hesitant nod returned from Isack. "That's it."

���━━━━━━━━━━

When you had initially decided that nothing could impact the friendship between you and Isack, you didn't even think that your friends with benefits situation would be an exception. Not even for a second.

But here you were. Not even on talking terms. And everyone noticed. You could barely even look at each other.

Yet when Paul would weasel his way from the Alpine garage to you, Isack couldn't withhold the firm expression on his face.

The bright-eyed blonde was constantly flashing his pearly whites, including you in small TikToks he made for the team, cheering you on before every practice, congratulating you with a tight hug after you did indeed get pole for Miami...

He used to do that. Him. Isack.

After one heck of a race involving some unpredicted rain, you had won your maiden Grand Prix. And instead of hugging and kissing the living daylights out of you like Isack had dreamed about, he watched the replay on the screen during his interviews where the camera panned towards Paul and you, filling the room with small 'awes'.

Fucking hell. For someone who had all the emotional capacity, Isack had never felt such rage and turmoil.

Which was exactly why he was at your hotel door in the middle of the night because only you would prefer a night in when you should be celebrating.

"Isack," you greeted, eyes slightly widened as you opened the door.

What on earth was he doing here?

You pressed your lips at the silence, feeling his stare bore into you in such a way that made your stomach churn and your knees quiver. "I... um, what are you doing here? At... Christ, at two in the morning?"

Isack blinked. "I couldn't sleep."

You opened your mouth, about to respond in understanding when he continued. "I couldn't sleep knowing that I should've been the one hugging you today when you won. That I should've congratulated you by kissing you in front of everybody like I imagined. I couldn't sleep... knowing that I'm going to lose you because I couldn't build up the courage for five years to say... I like you. So much that it's driving me crazy."

Your eyes had fully blown wide and any ounce of exhaustion had been depleted instantaneously. You watched Isack's chest heave after the whirl of words that had fallen from his mouth.

"I don't think... I'm not sure if you're in the right state of mind right now..." you worded slowly as though your heart wasn't slamming into your chest, screaming at you to do anything but deny what was right in front of you.

Isack huffed, slightly amused by your poor attempt to distance yourself. He knew you far too well. He folded his arms, making it difficult for your eyes to look away. "Why? So you can pretend you don't like me too? That you didn't get jealous at the club?"

Your mouth fell open. "I... how did you...?"

Isack gave you a pointed look. "That girl asked me why you were looking at her so intensely," he retorted dryly.

Your cheeks flushed. Fuck this was getting even worse than you had imagined. Your hand clenched around your doorframe, head resting in embarrassment. "Okay... you need to leave."

Isack furrowed his brow. "What? Why?"

"So I can wallow in self-pity and potentially burn a hole through this carpet with my skin," you stated, lips pressed together.

Isack grinned, taking a step forward. "I can think about fifty other ways I can make you burn."

Before you could clock it, Isack's lips were on yours and your hands were around his neck, pushing him further into you.

A moan slipped from your lips while you could hear the thud of your door shutting. You could feel his hands immediately wrap around your waist, warming your skin.

Isack's lips pressed deeper, tongue darting out to nudge your mouth open, giving him more access to consume you entirely. Your body was positively churning, tingling and yet littering every inch of you with goosebump as he sent shivers down your skin.

The small half-mixed whine and grunt from his mouth made your thighs clench tightly. It was like it was reverberating through your core.

Isack moaned against your lips, hand roaming up your back, feeling the soft tresses of your hair mix with his fingers. Fuck... he had missed this. Two days... that all he had without you. And it had made him lose himself.

His own body shuddered at the scrape of your nails brushing past his bare skin, feeling his taut torso as though you had carved it out from memory. He peeled his lips away, breath hitching while you rubbed the skin above just below his waistband.

You were undoing him.

And he loved it.

"How the hell did you think you were going to end this, huh?" Isack queried, nipping away at the base of your neck, sucking your soft skin hard enough to mark what was his.

You moaned, head lolling back while he continued to speak, his teeth grazing your skin. "This is forever, chérie," he murmured, looking back at you. His hand held your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye.

You swallowed hard at the brown eyes staring back at you. Cheasts heaving, the silence was brief. "The moment I first kissed you on our first night... I knew that there would be no going back. That I would hate being your friend and nothing more."

Your eyes glistened, teasing you with your heart's capacity. "Isack..." you murmured, faces barely centimetres away from his.

His smile was soft. Almost a deceptive move on his behalf. "Tomorrow I'll show you how much you mean to me. Today... today you'll please me like the brat you've been. Winner or not."

One might've thought you were crazy as you felt the arousal begin to seep past your panties. You could feel your knees drop instinctively, no order being needed.

Silently, Isack peeled off your shirt, unhooking your bra with one swift motion. He cursed in French at the sight of your chest spilling so freely. Almost urgently, he unzipped his pants, shuffling out of his boxers along with it.

Your eyes were glued to his cock. So thick. Pretty veins all going down, angry and desperate for your touch.

As though you were in a daze, you held out your hand, running your nails gently over the underside.

Isack, unable to control his expressions, whimpered. He breathed slowly. "Don't start playing," he weakly warned, cock standing tall, twitching by itself in the wait for your touch.

You flickered your eyes to his, opening up your lips to let the swarm of warm saliva you had gathered dribble. In your peripheral, you could see Isack's mouth fall slightly, almost like he had gone stupid.

Your saliva fell over his cock, the warm fluid feeling fuzzy over the heat of his tip. Isack clenched his jaw upon feeling your hand rub the natural lube up and down his shaft. A sharp exhale made its way past his gritted teeth, a small tremor wavering down his body as your thumb grazed his slit so precisely.

"Putain," Isack swore, hand shooting to wrap around your chin. "Be careful," he warned more firmly this time. "If you want to enjoy what comes after... be careful."

You uncomfortably squirmed with the wetness between your legs growing bigger and bigger with every passing second. You couldn't help but tease him. He was making it so difficult. So expressive. Just the way you liked.

Before he even had the opportunity to say anything, your hot breath washed over his cock, making him twitch. Isack's head fell back in the air, feeling your hot tongue lick the tip of his dick, again paying special attention to his slit. "Merde," he moaned, entirely lost in your mouth.

Isack's tensed arms rushed to your hair, wrapping the strands tightly around the surface of his hands, veins popping on his forearms while he guided your head with the little control he could muster. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip upon the twirl of your tongue and the light graze of your own teeth against his tip. "F-Fuck," he croaked, throat straining to hold back his full moans, "you're so good, chérie."

You could only hum in response, the salty taste of his precum coating your tongue before you opened your throat a little wider to take his cock in fully. You feel Isack poorly guide his cock into the tighter tunnel, the action bombarded with a string of subdued moans from his mouth. God forbid, he got in trouble for waking up the entire hotel just because you were a goddess with your mouth.

Your thighs clenched again at the sounds falling from his lips. You could tell Isack was close by the way his hips began to move as though he was in a chase. You could only help further by sucking him even harder, bringing the warmth right to him.

Isack's eyes fell down to your throat, knees almost buckling at the sight of the same little bulge in your throat. God... how could he ever forget this? How you could even suggest ending what you had was beyond him. You were perfectly his.

Furthermore, the feel of your nails scraping his thighs, sinking into his thighs... you driving him crazy. He pushed his hips faster, taking in the lewd squelch of your throat filling the air. "That's it... you feel me, chérie?" he asked, breath uneven.

Your eyes fell to him, moans muffled with his cock in your mouth. Your pathetic attempt of a nod made him grin.

Isack let out a strangled grunt mixed with a chuckle. "Such a pretty little mouth... made just for me. Because you're all mine, aren't you, chérie? Not his... mine."

Closing his brown eyes, he cursed with a senseless yet ravenous moan, feeling the coil in his stomach began to unravel as your nose flushed with his skin.

"Oh fuck," he moaned, eyes tight as he chased his release.

You felt yourself drip between your legs as the hot white ropes spilled into your mouth, coating every crevice while you sucked every last drop from him.

Isack heaved, breathing almost silently while he removed his cock from your mouth, stomach churning as he watched you swallow what he had given you.

His eyes still glazed with need, he pulled you up from the floor, pressing his lips to your. God... he could taste himself on your tongue.

Isack breathed harshly. He rested his forehead on yours. "It's technically tomorrow... isn't it?" He queried, a small quirk at the corner of his lips baiting you.

Your laugh soothed his heart. You smiled, taking his hand and guiding it between your legs. "Technically it is."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Okay, I am finally able to settle down and read part 2 and I am so excited!!

Again, I really love the soft reader in this fic. She's lovely and kind and there's just something about her that's so endearing that it makes me want to give her a big hug. 💚

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

I'm melting over her reassurance to Dean that she doesn't regret a single second! And the kiss had me screaming!

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!

As someone who loves to bake I felt this in my soul. Also I love that you've given us another reader like the reader in Midnight Espresso who likes to take care of other people, because again it's so warm and welcoming and fantastic!

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

Dean, Dean, Dean... you know why. We all know why.

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.

I'm so happy at this point, but I just know that Lisa is probably gonna ruin it. Dang it, I love that you included her to cause some friction and some angst, but I'm just living life on the edge of my emotions each time she comes in.

“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.

And there she is. Why, WHY did he bring her!

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.

Now I feel bad because I read the next sentence about Lisa being nice. Lisa I'm so sorry. Please accept this potato as my humble apology. 🥔

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.”

Okay... before I dive into the five years later, I just want to say that I feel so bad for Dean, but at the same time you GO Benny! Because he's being so sweet and kind and isn't playing with her emotions, and he's literally there for her even though she's having someone else's kid. Like what a man. 👏🏻

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

Literally screaming yes! I'm so happy for them. And also I love the Robert Plant reference.

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.

Oh buddy... and just like that the happy feeling is starting to ebb away. I mean I'm happy that she has someone, but I hate that she feels like she can't be herself there. It turns into feeling trapped really quick.

Side Note: Love the Jurassic Park reference. I know that you're as big a Jurassic Park girlie as I am!! 🦖

But it's also terrible that he let a four year old watch that 😬

“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.”

Baby, he wants to be the good man who treats her right. And don't think I don't see the subtle hinting that you've got going on Lisa. I'm about to take back my potato.

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.”

Dang it. Now I feel bad for Lisa. It's true though. It's literally five years of on and off and where is it going? I see what she's getting at and I do feel for her.

“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.”

Ah yes, the classic Dean Winchester get mad at other things because he's too afraid to say the one big thing that he's held close to his heart for the past 5 years. *sigh* 😒

It's sad to me because Dean could have done this five years ago and it would have been less complicated. Now he's been with Lisa for 5 years, and the reader has been with Benny for 2. And yes maybe the reader isn't happy, happy, but in the end there are four people involved in this rather than the two it could have been at the beginning (or maybe 3?).

“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.

Oh my word he's such a good dad to Robbie even when he's hurt and I can't take the feelings! 😭

And the fact that Benny calls Dean "brother" is just making the feelings even worse, because I know what's coming and oh man, it's gonna hurt Benny so much.

“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?” 

Oh boy... this is... this is really... I have no words because both of them have points. But I would still like my potato back, thank you very much.

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.

This is KILLING ME ALEX! They just need to communicate with one another instead of shutting each other out! DANG IT! SPEAK! DEAN STOP DOING THE SUFFER IN SILENCE BIT! We all know you can look super hot while you're brooding, but COME ON! I just want to hit him with a frying pan!

And her! Oh my word. I love her but please, PLEASE call Dean! He's your friend! You like him!

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

Nice and safe.

Like an end table. Because that's what every woman wants from her significant other 🤣

Also I'm literally cackling over the fact that Dean and Benny chose the same night to ask their ladies to marry them. Their brains are so in sync LOL.

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 an

FINALLY!

“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.” 

She can have a whole truck full of potatoes. She did the right thing and the "Go fight for it," is just so lovely.

“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.”

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.  

I especially love this little bit, because you describe what the reader wants in love (what we all want LOL) and then you add the difference when Dean touches her. But I also completely understand her hesitancy to go to Dean even though it's what her heart is telling her. She's trying not to get her heart broken and yet Dean is the person she's held there for so long.

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.

Oh goodness THE WEDDING! IT'S HAPPENING!

Can I ask how long it's been since they got back together? I love the time skip, but I'm just curious to see how long Dean waited to pop the question. 😊

Also the stuff about Benny is so sad- I'm beyond happy for the reader and Dean (their love makes me so happy)- but dang he was Dean's best friend. And the stuff about Dean saying that this wasn't how he wanted to be promoted, I'm having so many feelings AHHHHH! But I wish Benny happiness. Who knows? Maybe he and Lisa will meet up in a few years and bond 🤪

(I also felt the need to add the next paragraph because I read the comments)

Also I'm gonna say this- I like what you did with Lisa and with Benny. I think that it made sense to add them in this and I think that Lisa added a catty/dramatic energy and Benny sort of became the (terrible word) placeholder for Dean to the reader, but both of these characters were helpful for moving the story along. And I think that Dean's character makes sense because yes at the beginning he was a playboy, but then he started to feel the stability of the reader, started to crave something more than what he had in his life- and instead of going with her, he clung to Lisa. Just as the reader wanted something more and started to date Benny, but missed the electricity of what the reader thought love should feel like. Dean and the reader both felt the need to push down their feelings and search in the wrong places for what they wanted from each other. At least that's how I took it and I loved every single second of this fic and how you wrapped everything up!

ALEX, this fic was amazing! It had me feeling all the feels on this wonderful, beautifully written emotional rollercoaster. I can't wait to read the epilogue!

IF I STAY - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

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

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

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

Word Count: 13.1K

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

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Part 2: It’s Now or Never

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…Or something like that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Benny! It’s good to see you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why does it smell like a bakery in here?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aw, come on. It’s a badass name!”

“What about Aiden?” you suggest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How about Benjamin,” comes a Louisiana drawl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FIVE YEARS LATER... 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Need an iron lung?” Lisa teases.

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

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

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

Dean’s good mood diminishes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? What’re you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean expels a heavy sigh. “Lis—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your brows raise high. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just that what? he wonders.

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

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

“Dean!” Benny shouts in alarm.

Luckily, the truck itself breaks Dean's fall.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Benny nods.

“You got it, brother.”

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

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

Her tone is cutting, and it takes you aback.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two Months Ago...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I caught a minnow!”

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

“A marlin?” Robbie questions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you tell him?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you ask.

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

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

“Before Lisa,” Dean says.

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

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

Your eyes widen. Finally, that jogs your memory.

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

You have to laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh. “That’s not what I meant.”

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

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

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

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

But Dean surprises you with another question.

“Do you think if…”

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

Just as you open your mouth to reply—

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

“Okay, thanks, Mom,” you nod.

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

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

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

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

Now...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nice and safe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dean,” you gasp.

Benny’s expression slackens. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She just gives him a long look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She pauses, with her back turned to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The only one he can see is you.

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

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

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

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

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

“Lisa, I loved you.”

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

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

He goes to her and kisses her cheek. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say.

Instinctively, Dean knows it’s a lie.

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

Dean leans a hand on the doorframe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God, Dean. You can't just..."

"I mean it," he insists.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” you agree. “Let’s try.”

Dean'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. 🥰❤️❤️‍🔥

So please let me know what you thought! 😘

⋆˙⟡ Keep Reading: The Epilogue

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

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[daysiesz]

you knock twice on the zeus cabin's back window as quietly as you can. you try to look inside but the darkness does you no favors. for a second, you think your boyfriend got tired and went to sleep already, but then you hear a 'psst' coming from above you.

looking up, you see those two bright blue eyes and that head of blonde hair and a smile involuntarily grows on your face.

"come on up," jason whispers from the roof.

"come on up?? i hope you haven't forgotten that not all of us can fly, son of jupiter," you whisper back, while observing the walls of the cabin to see how you could climb up.

you hear a tut from your boyfriend and only feel a sudden rush of wind; the next second you're floating to the roof. a squeal of surprise almost escapes you, but in your shock, you clamp a hand over your mouth.

"if you wanted me to lift you up, angel, you only had to ask," jason jokes as you land on the roof, conveniently straddling his lap.

"and if you wanted me on your lap, angel, all you had to do was ask," you say, nuzzling your nose against his teasingly, only for him to pull you closer into a kiss.

"you really did just bring me up here to make out, didn't you?" you mumble into the kiss.

"not just that," jason says as you break apart, and turns your face by your chin to look at his elaborate date night set-up.

all you can do is gasp. a blanket lay spread out on the roof of the zeus cabin, along with pillows creating the coziest hideaway you'd ever seen. candles, placed a safe distance away from the blanket, lent a warm glow to the scene that made it look like something out of a dream.

you look to your boyfriend in disbelief. "jace..."

"like it? piper only helped with the candles, i swear, the rest of it was all me."

sensing the hint of nervousness in jason's voice, you huff a small laugh and take his hand, climbing off his lap only to pull him down to lay on the pillows. you lie beside him, fiddling with his fingers on your stomach.

"it's perfect," you say, but your tone takes on a pensive note.

"what's wrong?" jason's quick to ask, ever the most attentive to your slightest mood shifts. his

you sigh out as you bury your face in his neck, "do you have to go tomorrow?"

tomorrow was the day jason was supposed to return to camp jupiter. long distance wasn't easy for either of you, especially when both of you usually got caught up in school and camp. the few days of respite are the ones you spend at camp jupiter or the ones he spends are camp half blood. those are the days you've treasured most since you've been separated.

jason only rubs your hip in response, wanting, with every cell in his body, to say, "no. i'll stay. for as long as you want." but he couldn't.

"i'm sorry," you say, rising up as you lie on your stomach, your elbows supporting your weight as you look down at him, "i didn't want to ruin the mood, it's just- this is the best thing anyone's ever done for me. you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

you speak in the quietest voice you were capable of, wanting this moment to be a secret just between the two of you, even though no one else was around. you wouldn't be caught dead saying all the things you swore never to say once you got in a relationship. but they were all true with jason.

mirroring your quiet tone, jason responds with all the sincerity in his soul, "i would give anything to stay with you, just a minute more."

you roll your eyes and try to lighten the mood.

"how cliche," you mutter with a smile on your face as you lean down to kiss him once more. he gently cups your face and you lose all sense of space and time in his arms.

once you finally pull apart, you say, "just you wait. once we move in together for university, you're never getting rid of me. enjoy the distance while you can, grace."

breathlessly, jason replies, "i can't bear it for a minute more."

a/n: after a point this felt like word vomit but anything for my pretty boy (rereading it and i kind of hate it but whatever ig). trust there will be so many more jason grace cuddling-no-plot fics in the future, please bear with me ♡

[itsnesss]

𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | oliver bearman × fem!reader

summary | you’re still haunted by a past love, unsure how to move forward, but ollie waits

warnings | fluff, emotional vulnerability, past toxic relationship, self-worth issues, mentions of unresolved trauma

word count | 0.8 k

🖇️ sctw album 🖇️ more ob87

The night seems endless. The dim lights of the cloudy sky barely reflect off the windshield, and the silence in the car is thick, as if something else is sitting between you two.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye as he takes a smooth turn, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. Sometimes he taps the steering wheel with his fingers, like the movement helps him think or calm down. But this time, he doesn’t seem nervous. Just attentive. Waiting for you.

"Do you want music?" he asks, breaking the silence in a soft voice.

"No... It’s fine like this," you murmur, because any song now would be too much. It would make you feel something you’re not ready to hold.

Because you’re on the edge. All the time.

Since he showed up in your life, you’ve felt like you’re walking on a tightrope between what you could have with him and everything you haven’t let go of yet.

"I tried to be what he thought I was, I wasn't."

That thought keeps coming back like an old wound that still hurts when the weather changes. You curl up against the window, not looking at Ollie. You’re afraid of what he might see if he looks at you too much. Afraid that he might discover that sometimes you still hear *his* voice in your head. That you still wonder if the problem was you.

Your ex wasn’t cruel. Not like the stories other people tell. He didn’t yell at you or break you apart... at least not directly. His was slower, subtler. A collection of small disappointments that you absorbed as if your worth depended on how much you could endure. You molded yourself to like him. You changed your loud laughs for silences, your ideas for concessions, your boundaries for excuses. And when he left you in the end, you didn’t even cry. You just felt empty.

Now Ollie.

Sweet, patient, and with those eyes that always seem to see more than you want to show.

When he stops at a lookout point by the sea, everything becomes even quieter. You only hear the distant sound of the waves and your shallow breathing.

He turns off the engine.

"I know it’s not easy," he says without looking at you. "And maybe I’m asking you for something you’re not ready to give."

You don’t know what to say. You’re not even sure there’s a right answer. Part of you wants to ask him to stay. Another part feels like you don’t deserve it.

"I don’t want to hurt you," you whisper, and for the first time, you say it out loud. Something real. Raw. Honest.

He nods, but doesn’t pull away.

"Then don’t," he replies with a simplicity that disarms you. "Just... tell me the truth. That’s enough for me."

And so you speak.

Of your past. Of how you got lost in a relationship that seemed like love but was slowly draining you. Of how you learned to lock your emotions away in boxes you never opened. Of how you feel now with him. Scared. Confused. Tempted. And also alive. Because he makes you feel all of that together, and that’s what overwhelms you.

He listens.

Without interrupting. Without judging. He just listens.

And when you finish, when your voice breaks and the tears blur your vision, he doesn’t say "everything will be fine" or try to fix you. He simply leans toward you, carefully, and presses his forehead against yours.

"I’m not going to force you. Or rush you. I just want to walk with you, even if it’s slow."

The tears surprise you. Not because of sadness, but because of relief.

Because no one had ever offered you love like that: without conditions, without hurry, without demands.

"I guess I never healed right... Maybe it's a green light, but I can’t go."

Yes. You’re broken in some places. But maybe you don’t need to be whole to move forward. Maybe something can be built from that honesty.

He looks at you. And for the first time in a long time, your eyes don’t look away.

"I want to try," you say. "I don’t know how, or how long. But I want to."

He smiles. A soft smile, small, but enough to make you feel like you’re worth it. Even with your broken pieces.

You don’t kiss that night.

It doesn’t matter.

Sometimes, the real start of something isn’t a kiss, or a promise, or a certainty. Sometimes, it’s simply staying. In silence. Together. Waiting for the moment when you can cross that emotional stoplight without fear.

And Ollie, you know, will be there when that happens.

Because he doesn’t need you to run.

He just wants you to take his hand when you're ready and say: now, yes.

tags | @ebkitty

[hoonieyun]

final girl

pairing: sim jaeyun x reader x park sunghoon

warnings: slasher horror movie themes, mentions of death and murder, blood, true crime obsession, psychopathic behavior, guns, physical violence, threats, violent activity, a little suggestive, serial killer behavior, 18+ not proofread

wc: 2361

the sound of jake’s heavy footsteps behind you sound a lot closer than they seem, it was like the fear that this whole ordeal has instilled in you has corrupted your perception. in a moment of fear, you decide to turn around as you’re running up the stairs which turns out to be a big mistake as jake takes this as an opportunity to gain on you, his hand tightly gripping your ankle; causing the both of you to fall onto the steps of the stairwell. 

a grunt leaves your lips as you try and get away from jake, a crazed look in his eyes as he tries to tighten his grip on your ankle and pull you towards, but with your free leg your foot comes in contact with his nose; causing him to let go and allowing you to scramble back onto your feet. 

you use that time to run away and find a place to hide, choosing the first room you find that was open which just so happens to be jay’s bedroom but before you’re even able to slam the door shut behind you; jake is pushing into the room. his strength was unmatched to yours and it leads you to falling onto jay’s bed. glancing over at jake, you couldn’t even look at him the same. 

your once best friend who you, at some point, loved so much; was now someone you couldn’t look at with nothing but disgust. you slowly crawl backwards on jay’s bed as jake towers over you. his knife held tightly in his hand was all you could look at, “i don’t wanna hurt you.. 

yn.. i love you. i promise i don’t wanna hurt you, please don’t make me hurt you.. i can convince heeseung to keep you alive. we don’t have to kill you. just– all you have to do is say that you’re mine and everything will be fine..” 

jake’s gaze was glued onto your face, you could only imagine the type of frightened expression you had on your face– “you don’t want to hurt me..?” you ask, a tremble in your voice and jake just nods as he gets closer to you. his face was just a foot away while his hand slowly made its way to hold your face. 

if you didn’t have a plan in mind, his touch would’ve made your skin crawl– and it did, but you couldn’t let it show. jake was too focused on your face that he didn’t notice your hand creeping towards the guitar that was laid to the side of jay’s bed. 

“well.. i want to hurt you.” and before jake can react, you’re swinging the guitar with whatever strength you had left and whacking jake. the guitar cracks and breaks in several pieces as jake stumbles off of the bed, freeing you. a pain groan and cough leaves his chest as you run away, throwing the guitar neck at jake as you leave. 

“sorry jay, i’ll get you a new guitar..” you mutter, running away and shutting the door behind you. 

you make your way back downstairs in hopes of finding jay or aiding sunghoon in some way but before you could even get to sunghoon, you see jay laying on the floor of the kitchen with heeseung standing over him. his knife gripped between his gloved fingers, preparing to finish jay off the way jake couldn’t. 

with quick thinking, you rush over to them and hurl the blender towards heeseung’s head. heeseung staggers over, grunting as the glass blender shatters over his head while you quickly help jay off of the floor and back to the living room to get sunghoon. 

now that you knew sunghoon was alive, all you had to do was survive and escape, which is a lot more said than done. 

before exiting the kitchen, you grab a knife of your own to have some sort of protection, if heeseung and jake wanted to gut you with blades, then two could play that game. you’re running behind jay, watching him crouch down to his brother and help him up, a sigh of relief leaves your lips as you see sunghoon is still conscious but that sigh soon turns into a sharp gasp as two strong hands snatch your body from behind. 

jake, who was waiting in the shadows, wraps his hands around your throat and waist. pulling you flush towards his body, “drop it.” he whispers into your ear and you have no choice but to drop the one piece of protection you had. the knife hits the carpet with barely a sound before jake is whispering in your ear again. 

“good girl… i’m glad you know how to listen.” 

his words make you feel sick but fearing for your life; you aren’t able to do anything but stand pushed up against jake’s body as he holds your life in his hands. the knife pressed to your neck was cold, despite being used tonight, and his breath on your skin made the hair rise on the back of your neck. 

your gaze is fixed on jay who is tending to sunghoon, putting pressure on his gash after freeing him from his restraints and the gag in his mouth. everyone’s eyes shoot towards the front when someone bursts through, “fbi, hands where i can see them!” taeyong emerges from the door and for once you feel relief knowing that someone has come to save you and your friends. 

jake stiffens behind you at the sight of taeyong holding a gun that was directed towards him. you could tell that he was slightly thrown off, hearing him swallow the nerves down his throat as his grip tightens on your waist and neck. “jake, drop the knife..” taeyong warns but your joy of being saved is short lived when a knife is suddenly pierced through his neck, blood pouring down his clothes as he coughs. 

taeyong’s body drops to the floor and you’re left with your mouth ajar as your only chance of surviving was now lying in a pool of his blood. 

“that was easy.” heeseung says as he snatches the knife and walks over taeyong’s body, cleaning it off with his glove. “so.. who’s next?” he asks, pointing his knife towards the twin brothers, moving it side to side as if he was playing eeney meeney miney moe. “actually..” heeseung says, bending over and grabbing the gun from taeyong’s lifeless hands. you were afraid that he was going to resort to shooting you all instead of his traditional knife but all heeseung does is empty the bullet chamber and tosses the weapon aside. 

“please, you didn’t think i was going to use that? gross.. i may be a serial killer but i’d never use a gun. a knife is way more fun and… satisfying.” he says, a tight lipped smile on his face. you struggle against jake’s grip, writhing under his grasp but he isn’t letting up.”you know yn.. none of this would’ve ever happened if that fucker right there never came into the picture.” he says, pointing his knife at sunghoon who was furrowing his thick eyebrows at jake. 

you couldn’t help but feel pain and guilt while you looked at him. pain and agony paired with anger was painted across his face and all you could think about was the fact that maybe jake was right. none of this would’ve ever happened if you never met sunghoon, let alone became his girlfriend; jake probably would’ve confessed at some point and maybe you would’ve dated him instead.. 

these thoughts run through your mind as you weigh your options and it seemed like there was truly only one option in your head that seemed the most possible. 

“it’s not too late, baby.. you could still be mine and all of this would be over.” jake whispers, pressing a slight kiss onto the shell of your ear. your lips quivered as you looked at sunghoon and for a moment, it was just the two of you. like all of the dangers in the room disappeared and it was simply you and sunghoon standing together. you had a silent agreement and it was as if he could read your mind with the way he gave you a small nod. 

“okay..” you muttered and jake repeated it back to you in the form of a question. 

“ok.. i’ll be yours jake. just like how you want.” you confessed, tears in your eyes as you turn around when jake’s grip loosens. you take that opportunity to turn around and face him, gently placing your hand on his cheek as you stare into one another’s eyes. “really?” he asks and you nod in response. “i forgive you.. please don’t hurt me, jake…” you tried your best to not let your tears fall. sincerity was dripping from your words and jake couldn’t feel any happier to hear what you were saying. 

only if it were true. 

your hand finds its way to the knife in his and you snatch it away and jump out of the way just as sunghoon lunges forward and tackles jake to the ground. his shoulders pummeling into jake’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. jay watches this play out and follows suit, tackling heeseung before he could interfere while you scramble to figure out what to do next. you watched the four boys wrestle with one another, jake and sunghoon are trading punches while jay is sitting on top of heeseung, letting him have it. 

you needed to find a way to gain some leverage and that was when you remembered that you weren’t entirely hopeless. the night that you had come up with the plan and told sunghoon you needed to go somewhere, you met with someone you had been speaking to and bought a firearm from him– knowing that you’d be able to use it in some way to help you. and that was now. you run towards the closet that they had used to hide sunghoon and your hunch was right, there on one of the hooks was your bag. 

rummaging through it quickly, you feel your fingers graze the cold metal of the gun and with a swift motion to ensure that there were still bullets inside of it. “one, two, three- five.. ok.” you count to yourself as you load the gun back up and with the click of the safety, everyone’s eyes are on you as you aim the gun at jake. 

“get the fuck off of him..” you warn as you threaten jake who now found himself on top of jake, hammering down his fist onto your boyfriend’s face. jake brings his hands up in submission, eyes wide at the gun in your hands, “woah.. pretty girl, let’s calm down, ok?” he says but his words only piss you off even more. 

sending one warning shot into the ceiling, jake flinches and climbs off of jake. sunghoon and jay limp to your side as you keep your gun aimed at the two people in front of you. you were all in a standstill as the tension in the room continues to get thicker and thicker. 

the gun in your hands was getting heavy and it was getting harder to breathe the longer you pointed the gun at the two people you once called friends. 

jake suddenly dashes towards you and almost like it was an instinct, you fire three bullets into his chest. everyone gasps at your action, jake who was once standing and running towards you is halted in his path when the bullets shoot through him. blood moistens the fabric of his clothes as he falls to his knees, one last glance into your eyes as he falls forward. 

heeseung, who was standing to the side, watches this in anger as his once perfect plan was now falling apart. he grabs the knife by his feet and when he rushes forward you try to shoot him but in your state of shock, you miss. 

a second attempt at shooting heeseung fails as the bullets in your gun had been used up, “shit!” you exclaim and as you prepare for the impact from heeseung while sunghoon moves himself in front of you, shielding you from the danger but it never comes as another gunshot rips through the air. 

heeseung falls forward with a thud and reveals detective irene, holding a gun that was aimed to where heeseung was just standing. the three of you look at irene with wide eyes as you soon realize both assailants have now been taken care of and irene was here to save you. 

you and the twins make your way over to irene but jake suddenly lunges upwards in an attempt to grab sunghoon but you’re quick to grab the gun from irene and shoot him in the chest one more time. his grip on sunghoon’s leg loosens as he looks at you once again. 

“i would’ve never hurt you, i love you too much..” jake coughs as blood from his mouth splatters the carpet. you blink at his lifeless body while irene escorts all of you out of the hellhole that was this house. before leaving, you decide to shoot heeseung again, causing everyone to whip their heads around to the sound, “just making sure that fucker’s dead..” you say, handing the gun back to irene as you and your friends finally walk through the door; leaving the gruesome crimescene behind. 

the cold night air nips at your bruised skin as you walk hand in hand with sunghoon, who easily slips his hand into yours; a sense of comfort that you haven’t felt in so long. you rest your head on sunghoon’s shoulder as jay leans on the support beam of his front porch. 

the sounds of sirens get louder as you look into the distance, the colors of red and blue bleed into the night sky, and for once in a long time; you breathe a sigh of relief knowing that it wouldn’t be followed by something that would make your breath get caught your throat shortly after. 

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detectives notes: the decelis killers have been identified as sim jaeyun and lee heeseung, who orchestrated and committed the murders. both assailants are deceased, leaving 3 survivors, yn, sunghoon, and jay who are now in police custody for questioning and medical aid.

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

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[jupitersammich]

The other woman…

Joe Goldberg x f!reader

Angst

Warnings: Cheating, swearing

Wordcount: ~1k(ish)

┊͙✧˖*°࿐ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✧˖*°࿐ ┊͙

Guenivere beck…

The woman Joe killed for, protected and devoted every breath for, wasn’t someone you could’ve competed with.

You paled in comparison to her in his rose tinted eyes. To him, you were ordinary. He felt no consuming fire in his soul when he looked at you, just a short spark of affection, yet no breath of his was devoted to you, no killing done in your name. It was healthy. But it wasn’t enough for him.

You accepted this regardless, but you never wanted it to be true because Joe was your Beck. You truly and unconditionally loved the curly haired man, doing everything you could have to keep him happy and loved.

Which is why you convinced yourself you were imagining things the night you both bumped into Beck. The green eyed monster clawing at your mind the second you laid eyes on her. You saw the way he looked at her-with such reverence and love you’d think he’d been staring at his saviour. His voice sweeter…gentler. A tone you’ve never been the recipient of.

That night as you both cuddled on his couch, watching a movie with your body curled against his, head on his chest listening to his steady heartbeat. His phone pinged. You prayed. Prayed so hard it wouldn’t be her. Prayed the reason he was smiling at his phone so widely was because a friend said something funny, not because he was speaking to the woman he was madly in love with.

“Who are you texting?” You ask softly. You hear his heartbeat increase as he blurts out “Just a friend”, settling his phone down and kissing your forehead to try and throw you off his scent.

His explanation sets off hundreds of thoughts in your mind, using the movie as a ruse for your sudden quietness. ‘Just a friend’. Your gut is screaming at you ‘he’s lying’, but for your own sanity you smother the voices with a ‘I trust him. He wouldn’t lie to me.’

┊͙✧˖*°࿐ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✧˖*°࿐ ┊͙

The power in your mantra began to fizzle out as the weeks passed. It started off with the constant texting done in the same room as you. Wearing the stupid grin he wore when he saw Beck.

Then came the missed dates, the excuses, the distance. He was pulling away, and fast. It was killing you. Your mind turning into a war zone, becoming more snappier and erratic. You watched the man you loved so deeply pull away. You were never his, never a woman who his cold heart deemed as worthy for its twisted affection and that made you want him more.

He came home one night with lipstick marks against his shirt and her perfume on his skin. He didn’t even have the decency to hide it. He didn’t care. He just wanted Beck back, and at this point you had become a blockage to get what he wanted.

He says it plainly. Like none of this matters, a means to an end.

“It’s over.”

Your entire body freezes. You don’t know why you’re shocked, it was over the second he texted and then repeatedly fucked Guinevere Beck behind your back for weeks.

You don’t say a word. He doesn’t deserve anything more out of your heart-he’s already taken so much.

As you begin packing your things out of his apartment he spews some damage control to maintain his good guy image

“We’re a good team, I see that. I- there’s just something missing…I don’t know what it is. I wish I could buy it, buy it at the store and take it home…but I can’t.”

You ignore everything, fighting the tears in your eyes as you gather more things haphazardly, wanting to get out of his apartment.

His cold hand gently wraps around your wrist to stop you, the first ounce of affection he’s provided in weeks and it’s when he’s breaking up with you. It causes your body to shiver, red eyes shooting up at him.

“Are you okay?” His gentleness masking the pity he feels for you.

You rip your hand away, thoughts of him touching her with those very hands making his skin like burning coal against yours and begin putting your shoes on.

“Uh…maybe we sh-should talk?” He’s unnerved by your silence, on edge like he’s expecting to be slapped.

“I’m not an idiot Joe. I knew what you’ve been doing behind my back” he sees the glassiness in your eyes. “I really…really wanted this to work.”

You turn and leave, door slamming behind you to cut off his weak apology.

Too heartbroken to realise that breaking up with you was the kindest thing Joe has ever done to any woman.

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed! <3

[wheresarizona]

Big News

summary: Ellie and Dina have something to tell Joel. 

pairing: Ellie/Dina

rating: G (*Spoilers for S2E4* This is fluff, Joel POV, Joel being the best dad, Ellie giving Joel shit, big news, domestic fluff, AU where Joel lives, not canon compliant)

word count: 600+

a/n: *Spoilers for S2E4* Hi, I made myself really sad thinking about how excited Joel would be finding out he’s going to be a grandpa, so I wrote it to make myself feel better. Enjoy this fluff! 

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Masterlist

“We need him to sit down,” Dina whispers to Ellie, but Joel can clearly hear as the pair stand in front of him. 

“Good idea,” the other girl quietly replies. “He’s old. We gotta think about his heart.” 

Joel takes a deep breath as he closes his eyes and presses his fingers to his forehead. 

Ellie and Dina had met him at the house for their weekly dinner and movie night. When they arrived, they found him in the kitchen, where they are now, and said they had something to tell him. 

“Girls,” he cuts in, and lowers his hand to look at them. “What is goin’ on? Did you get in trouble for messin’ around on patrol and not checkin’ in again?” 

“Hey,” Ellie responds. “That happened one time, and we’ve explained many times that we don’t know how the radio got turned off!” 

“Uh huh, and you smelled like weed because?” 

“There was that blizzard, and we had to hole up at Eugene’s weed-growing place, but forget about that. We have something to tell you, and you need to sit down.” 

He sighs and decides to humor them by walking the few steps to take a seat at the little breakfast table. In all honesty, his heart is pounding over what they possibly had to say. He’s thinking the worst, but he’s not quite sure what that would even be. 

“Okay,” he says. “What is it?” Ellie inhales deeply and says something so quickly on the exhale that it sounds like gibberish. His eyebrows pull together, and his attention goes to Dina. “What did she say?” 

“We’re having a baby,” Dina answers. 

Joel looks between them. “I beg your pardon, what?” 

“We’re having a baby,” Dina repeats. 

“I’m gonna be a dad,” Ellie adds. 

Now, Joel knows they’ve been dating for a month or so, and he loves seeing them together. He just has one question. “How…?” 

Dina uses her thumbs to point at herself. “I’m pregnant.” 

Again, he asks, “How?” 

“If you want to get into the specifics, I had sex with Jesse—”

That’s enough for him to hear, Joel putting up a palm as he interrupts her, “Okay, okay, alright. Jesse’s the father. That’s all I needed to know.” Then it dawns on him what they’re saying, and his hand drops, his eyes widening as he looks at Dina. “You’re pregnant?”

“Yes.” 

His attention goes over to Ellie. “You said you’re gonna be a dad?” 

“Yep.” 

Now, he’s looking between them. “Does…” His throat feels tight. “Does that mean, I’m gonna be a grandpa…?” 

Both girls nod and say at the same time, “Yep.” 

He stares off behind them at the kitchen wall. 

He’s going to be a grandfather. 

After losing Sarah, and with Ellie dating girls, he never in a million years ever thought he’d be a grandfather. He figured he lost that chance when he lost his oldest. Really, it wasn’t something he even thought about until now. 

A grandfather. 

He’s going to be a grandfather. 

His girls are having a child. 

“Did we break him?” Ellie whispers. 

“Shh, he’s processing. Give him a second.” 

He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he feels the tears rolling down his cheeks. 

“I’m gonna be a grandpa,” he breathes, focusing on them. 

Dina nods, her eyes red-rimmed and teary. “Yeah, Joel. You’re gonna be a grandpa.” 

There’s no stopping his big grin, as he quickly rises to his feet. “I’m gonna be a grandpa!” he excitedly says, wrapping his arms around them. Dina giggles, and Ellie groans, but they hug him back. “I’m so happy for you kids,” he tells them. He’s already thinking about what he’ll carve the baby—maybe a giraffe. “You’re gonna be great parents.” 

And that’s not a lie. They’re good together. They'll be great.

This might be the happiest day he’s had in over twenty-five years. 

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Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know! 

[barefoothighlander]

the river

summary: during popes attempt to find Lena, he runs into an old friend (set during the events of s3 ep10)

andrew 'pope' cody x f!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), insinuations of abuse, mentions of previous relationship, eludes to sexual content, foster system, angst?, kinda soft!pope, kissing, not proofread

quick fic for Pope cause I'm obsessed with him and I need him BAD, maybe ooc cause I've never written for him before, might make a part 2 where they freak it idk, feedback appreciated

"I need to see her, please just let me know, is she okay?"

Popes voice is brash, full of fear, an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time, he had waited in the front room of the child services building for hours, waiting for someone to call on him, for someone to help him find his niece.

Thoughts swirled his head, too many to count as he remembered what foster care was like for him, how alone and scared he had felt all those years ago, distanced from his family. He never wanted Lena to feel like that, to feel alone, unloved, he had done everything he could to keep her safe and happy, but they still took her away, some beaurocratic bullshit about her parents being gone and Pope not technically being a blood relative.

They had optioned him with adoption but with his record he knew he would never get the papers signed, he just had to know she was okay, wasn't in some shithole like he had been, ignored by his foster parents, residing in some awful house owned by people who abused the system just to get money. When he gets called back into the office, walking toward a cubicle he cant stop his heart from racing, hounding the worker with questions about his niece, where she was, how she was doing, every question answered with the same side stepping answer of "I cant tell you that Mr. Cody" it was crap, nobody here was willing to help him.

Admittidly he came on strong, he had a tendency to do that with people, cut through the shit and just say what he thought. In his peripheral he caught a glimpse of the woman who had been at the house the day Lena was taken, he calls out to her a finger pointed in the air.

"You took her, where is she, can I just see her"

His tone shifts to one of sadness, desperation, he pleads with the worker, stepping closer to her body as he steps back.

"Sir please, you need to relax"

Pope insists, pressing the worker as the security steps forward, his arms coming in front of himself as he moves to block Pope from the workers.

It's the shouting that drags your attention from your workload, not an unusual sound in the office but for some reason, the voice is what is different, its not angry, is desperate. You poke your head above your cubicle and your heart stops, you can only see his back, but that curly auburn hair, that same hair you had run your hands through 10 years prior, his body language so familiar.

"Andrew" Your voice comes out more stern than you intended, like you're scolding him rather than calling out, and everyone's heads turn to you.

Rarely do people use his first name, here it was Mr. Cody, to everyone else 'Pope', his eyes are wild as they lock with yours, his shoulders tensing as the gleam of recognitions passes through them.

"Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave, now" The guard says to Pope, but he doesn't move, doesn't take his gaze of yours as his hands move to his side, his face falling to one of pleading.

"It's okay Tom, I'll assist him" You nod toward the guard who wearily allows Pope to walk past, his body moving toward you before settling a few feet in front of you. Your muscles tense as he stands before you, completely different but someone so familiar to the boy you knew so long ago.

"Come with me" You say, pushing your chair into your desk and turning on your heel toward the break room. You offer him a cup of coffee and he waves you off, his hands resting in his lap as he watches you sit down beside him.

"I didn't know you worked here" He says, his eyes glued to yours.

"I didn't know you were out of jail"

"Have been for a while"

You move to speak but he cuts in before the words can escape your lips,

"You said you can help me, get her back, get back Lena"

"I can try, mostly I said it so they wouldn't kick you out or arrest you"

"Can you help"

"Im not your case worker, but I can try"

Pope explains the situation to you, all the while the knowing look on his face persists, you feel for him, his brother gone, Cath gone.

"I have to get her back, I don't want her to go through what I- what we did"

You avert your gaze, eyes falling to the floor as memories of your past rush in, "Its not like that anymore you know, we vet people, we don't just send kids into shitholes"

"How do you know"

"Theres a system in place, home checks and everything" You take a beat "I would never let a child live in a house that was unfit"

"Unfit" Pope mimics, mockery lacing his tone

"You know what I mean, just jargin for shitty, awful, abusive"

"When did you get out?" The question catches you off guard,

"A month after Smurf got you back"

"How?"

"Lets just focus on Lena, as of right now there isn't much I can do, shes been processed and placed in a home, you'll have to petition the courts"

"I cant"

Realizaiton hits you, "Because of your past"

"Theyll never let me adopt her, they wont let her live with me, I don't know what to do"

He looks at you with pleading eyes, "Just help me, please"

"Andrew, I-"

"Please" He cuts you off, his eyes locked onto yours and suddenly you're young again, just a girl following a boy around like a lost puppy, looking to him for protection, for love.

"Okay" You nod, "I'll help you"

-

The warm water soothes your skin, running down your body before pooling at your feet. You turn the shower off, stepping out to dry and wrap a towel around your body, you're a few steps into your bedroom before you hear the knock, throwing on a t-shirt and shorts before padding across the floor to open it.

"Andrew"

His eyes are glued to you, Pope always had issues with eye contact and now was no exemption.

"Did you follow me home?" Your eyes glance outside, finding his truck parked outside your house.

"Yes"

Well at least he was honest,

"Theres nothing I can do for you from here, you'll have to come to the office-"

"You're lying"

"I can't file anything from here, you know that"

"But you know where she is"

"Andrew.."

"Please, I just want to know shes okay"

"I will lose my job" You sigh

"I wont do anything, I just want to see, please"

And against better judgement, against laws and rules, against the years you'd spent apart, you cant say no to him, you cant leave him outside alone.

"Give me a second" You leave the door open for him to walk in, his body making its way down the hallway as you close your bedroom door, changing into more suitable clothes.

"You live alone" Pope says, standing in front of the pictures you had hung on the wall, a few of family members, others of landscapes, none of a partner or children.

"Yeah, haven't settled down yet" The admission stings a little, but it was the truth, you hadn't found anyone to spend your life with, let alone live with. "Come on, I'll drive"

Its a short 30 minutes to reach the subdivision, parking the car across from a nice house in a cul-de-sac.

"She lives there, a married couple, they make good money, they have another foster kid, a girl, same age as Lena"

You can see some of the tension in his body release as he sets his eyes on the house, its not rundown or decrepit like the houses the two of you had spent your years together in.

"We cant stay" You say, breaking the tension and Pope nods, his eyes on yours but his mind elsewhere.

You begin to drive away, the street lights illuminating your path as the ocean waves crash into the sand outside the car.

"You ran away" Popes question shakes your attention from the road, your hands suddenly fidgeting on the wheel.

"Yes"

"Where"

You breath deeply, taking a glance at him, suddenly feeling nervous under his gaze. "The beach, I was old enough to work and I got a job at a shop"

"They didn't catch you?"

"I was already almost an adult, and I think they assumed I had just run after you"

"You didn't"

His response strikes you,

"You didn't run after me though, I never saw you again"

"Yeah well I couldnt exactly run to Smurf and ask her for to harbor me"

"Thats not what I meant. You never talked to me again"

You sigh, pulling the car into a parking lot and killing the engine before turning to him, the streetlights illuminating his face, fuller now than it used to be, more freckled and worn.

"What was I supposed to do, run after you? Chase you around? Continue making a fool of myself?"

"You were never a fool"

You scoff, "Wasnt I though? I Followed you around day after day, clinging to you, and the whole time you were in love with another girl"

"Cath"

The name feels like a stab to the chest.

"Yes, Cath"

"Shes gone, her and Baz"

Your anger wavers for a moment, melting into pity, "I'm sorry you lost them"

He nods. "You weren't a fool, I mean I followed you around too"

"Yeah to keep those assholes from touching me"

"I wanted to protect you"

"Well thank you, but it doesn't make me feel less shitty"

"I wanted to protect you because I liked you"

"I know you liked me Andrew, I figure we wouldn't have slept together if you had hated me"

"No, I mean I wanted to be around you. When you didn't visit me, or call, I was worried"

You glance at him, sincerity written across his face, "Well I'm sorry I didn't call but I didn't exactly have your number"

"I used to think about you all the time" He admits "About where you were, what you were doing, if you were okay"

"Well, I made it out okay, seems you did too"

He shakes his head, "Alot of stuff's happened since we were kids"

You look over and all you can see is that teenager you fell in love with, freckled and full of angst, ready to be at up anyone who came near you and your heart melts, your muscles falling lose.

"I don't know what to say Andrew"

"You don't have to say anything"

You nod, a breath escaping your lips.

"Do you remember it?" He asks

You nod, "Of course I do" Memories of your warm bodies colliding in the backseat of a stolen car flash in front of your eyes, both of you nervous as he peppers kisses across your collar bone, his rough hands squeezing at your flesh.

"I cant forget it" He admits, "Its all I think about anytime I with another woman"

"Andrew."

"Im serious, that night, it meant alot to me is what Im trying to say I guess"

"It meant alot to me too"

You lock eyes, tension swirling as your body tenses, "I should get home" You say, your hand moving to turn the car key before Pope grabs it, his hand holding yours at his gaze pins you. Your heart stutters under his touch, he takes a beat before his body is moving toward you, lips colliding with yours, his hand moving form yours to hold your cheek, resting on the side of your face as your digits move to grab his shirt. He devours you, tongue pressing into your mouth6 as your teeth sink into his lower lip, your bodies melting together as the tension seeps from your muscles. Pope pulls back, his hand remaining on your cheek.

"Dont run away again"

You nod your head, eyes glossed over, watching him, the breath from your lungs stolen.

He nods his head slightly, shifting back into his seat, "I did that because I wanted to, not because I wanted to help me"

"Okay" Is the only word you can seem to form

You start the car, begining the drive back to your house through the dark, your body warm and tingling under Popes gaze. You pull into your driveway and open the door, Pope mirroring your actions, "I'll let you know if anything happens with Lena"

He nods, not moving from his spot near you, and you cant help but miss him, his touch, his lips, admittedly he looks good, solid, your years apart he grew, stronger and somehow more handsome.

"Do you want to come in?" The question escapes before you can process it. "I live alone, and I figure maybe you don't want to go back to an empty house."

"Yeah, I'd like that." A small smile quirks his lips as he follows behind you.

[lcvecove]

⭑  …  ❝ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐊 ❞ ; quinn hughes

𝓹airing , fem!reader x quinn hughes

post when you and your boyfriend got into an argument when you saw that he left his dishes in the sink.

꒰ 𝓷ote , another quinny repost. I think that’s the last of the reposts that I had stored away. as always I hope you enjoy and drop by the inbox to share your thoughts <3 . . . ꒱

you make a pointed effort not to look in quinn's direction as he enters the kitchen, keeping your glare firmly planted on your cup that coffee was slowly pouring into.

quinn knew you had seen him enter the kitchen, your shoulders had tensed the moment he walked into the room, but your eyes didn't flicker to his like they normally would, and he was fine with that. he was sure that if you did direct you attention towards him it would only be to start yelling at him. again.

he follows his normal morning routine, taking out the toaster and the bagels but hesitates after putting one in. he's unsure if he should be toasting yours, not because he's being petty over the fact that you weren't making him coffee like you normally would, simply because he's never met a more stubborn person in his life, and he wasn't sure if you'd eat it if he did toast it for you.

quinn allows the silence to drag on for a few minutes before breaking it. "you're coming to the game tonight right?” he asks

“probably,” you answer softly and quinn sighs, dropping another bagel in the toaster

quinn moves to the spot next to you, making his breakfast bagel on the counter and you resist the urge to kiss his cheek and cuddle into him like you normally would. he was even wearing his blue hoodie today, the one he knew was your favourite.

you make your way to the living room table, taking a seat on a chair and pretending to read the paper that was laying on the table. your mind was way too busy to actually focus on the words on the page but it was better than looking like you were contemplating what happened earlier that morning.

it was a stupid fight really, stemming from the fact that quinn left his dishes in the sink when you’ve repeatedly told him to just put it in the dishwasher, like how hard can it be? from there on some petty insults were exchanged as a result of exhaustion and frustration building up from the long week.

there’s a few minutes of silence again, the only sounds coming from the kitchen where Quinn was making your bagel. it’s not unusual for there to be silence in the morning, neither you or quinn were morning people. but that’s usually peaceful silence, this was tension-filled silence.

you see quinn approaching in your peripheral and a few seconds later he placed your bagel in front of you. “eat that,” he says, more like orders. and hesitates for a few seconds. he wasn’t sure if you wanted him to sit with you, or if you’d rather just be left alone.

your heart clenches a little when after a few seconds of hovering he decides to move towards the living room and plops down on the couch, eating his breakfast alone.

you were so in your head you didn’t realize the time had passed so quickly and before you knew it, quinn was getting ready to leave, putting on his shoes and grabbing his keys.

letting out a heavy sigh he makes his way towards you, gently cupping your cheek and pressing a kiss to your head and your cheek.

“Have a good day baby, I’ll see you tonight. I love you,” he says before turning to leave but you grab his hand before he gets the chance to

“I’m sorry-“ you start to apologize but he cuts you off

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, you’re right you’re not my mother and I’m a grown man, I can clean up after myself,” he says a little teasingly, recalling your words from earlier.

“Well yes, but you also apologized for it and I blew it way out of proportion. I’ve had a horrible week and I took my frustrations out on you and I’m sorry,” you say and his gaze softens, pulling your hand to tug you out of the chair and into his chest

“It’s okay baby. I know you’ve had a stressful week, we all have those. God knows I have them and I take it out on you way more than you do to me. I’ll argue with you about dishes in the sink if that’s what you need to let off some steam, as long as we can make up again before one of us has to leave. I don’t like being away from you knowing you’re pissed at me. At least when I’m home I get to see how sexy you look when you glare at me from across the room,” Quinn says, placing a kiss just below your ear and you shiver a little when his beard scratches the skin there.

“Well there’s other ways we can blow off steam rather than arguing,” you suggest and Quinn lets out a soft laugh against your neck

“You wanna show me?” he mumbles, hands falling to your ass and you laugh pushing him away

“Maybe tonight, you’re gonna be late,” you say, walking to the kitchen and grabbing the lunch you packed for Quinn before he even came downstairs

“You sure it’s safe to eat?” Quinn teases, knowing you made it when you were still mad

“Your sandwich may be a little spicier than usual, but you’ll live,” you say, patting his chest and he laughs, giving you a quick peck before he’s out the door.

not even his plate and coffee mug from breakfast sitting in the sink was enough to remove the smile on your face after that.

[sinisterexaggerator]

OK, my main issues with the Bane arc are as follows, while some can be explained away with headcanons or critical thinking skills, lol. Still. They bother me because it left US to do the work and did not properly elaborate on the how or why, or the who these people are even?!

Bane takes his style from a mentor who we don’t see his relationship with him at all yet are supposed to believe he cared about him within his five minutes or less of screentime. Cared enough to take up his hat and his mantle. I get he was left in charge of the gang, but they didn’t show that either, yet his guys come to pick him up once the transport arrives?? Then it’s straight to the Police Station? I have no doubt Bane would look up to someone who gave him a roof over his head when he was homeless and was starving, but I just wish we had seen more. Why he cared so much about his passing.

He ditched his friend right off the bat for a guy he just met. I mean, I guess it makes sense he could do that for his love of credits, and his fear of the cops, but that was the first betrayal, and it was Bane betraying Niro and not the other way around.

Arin was cool enough in her own right but the very first scene we see her she is already holding her stomach like she preggo. She was worried from the outset about telling Bane she’s knocked up, and that’s all she was there for—to serve as a plot device between two men.

The fact she leaves Bane for his best friend turned enemy after they meet one time. Did you even love Bane? And of all the people to marry, why Niro? Is it because of closeness to Bane you chose him? Is it because you didn’t want your child to grow up a bastard and fatherless? Smells like teen pregnancy and a shit situation for a girl caught between a rock and a hard place.

Thug / cop / good guy / bad guy trope with a love interest caught in the middle so cliché and overdone and did not like, tbh.

Why was Bane so delulu about Arin wanting to see him after being in prison for so many years and no one heard anything about her or seen her? Yeah, we can say he didn’t get messages in prison, but really?? No one told him anything??

Niro says she died a few years ago—did she die while “giving birth?” Did passing that huge ass egg kill her?

WHY DID THEY HAVE TO KILL HER OFF SCREEN?

Colby. I cannot get behind the name Colby, I am sorry. I see people’s reasonings for their acceptance of it and just no, not for me.

Why was he already called Cad? Why no backstory as to why he renamed himself Cad Bane? Shouldn’t there have been a lead up to that? It’s literally just a nickname he goes by? How unoriginal. I expected more.

They did not show how he got so good with blasters. Did Lazlo teach him offscreen somewhere? I suppose we’re supposed to guess or use inference here, but not all viewers are that smart HAHA.

Where did he get the accent from all of a sudden? Did he steal that from Lazlo too? Kid Bane didn’t talk that way but all of a sudden young adult Bane does.

The whole “you took everything from me” bit is still kind of a weird thing to say. I know fandom is explaining it in different ways. I just have to assume he means his freedom, his girl, his right to vengeance, his right to choose in terms of Arin stopping him from another duel and that it was stolen out from under him. But that’s not Niro’s fault??

They never explained “why” Arin couldn’t tell Bane. Was it because she was afraid of what he would say? Again we have to assume here. Of course the man would be conflicted, and he’s a known hothead.

Why did they say he got off on a technicality?? Are murderers not given life sentences in Star Wars?? Why not a prison break scene—much more fitting. Lazy writing, imo. But. They only had so much time I guess.

What the fuck was the point of making him a dad?? Are they going to revisit this in the future? Is he going to have—god forbid—a redemption arc?? Is he going to have to face-off against his own kid, and maybe show just how much more of a bastard he is ( hope so )?

This story in and of itself did not convince me of why he is the way that he is. If anything it showed he does care about people, like Arin, and even briefly his “son” before he is turned away. So how does that explain how he is so ruthless, coldblooded, a baby kidnapper, etc? Of course I guess that is up for us to decide, and decide we will. I can only imagine it erodes his psyche overtime, what with regret and all, and that lingering knowledge of fuck I have a kid out there—unless yeah, no big deal. Didn’t actually give a fuck about his girlfriend beyond her being some kind of prize to be won, and he just … writes him off. We can INFER it is for the best; he thinks he would be terrible as a dad; he knows he couldn’t raise the boy for the lifestyle he chose .. but again. Why. Just why. This wasn’t needed.

WE SHOULD HAVE BEEN GIVEN THE BOBA VS. BANE ARC. IT WAS RIGHT THERE.

AND IF HE CAN'T EVEN TAKE HIS OWN KID UNDER HIS WING, WHY WOULD HE TAKE UP JANGO'S?? Because he owed him a favor?? So he didn't owe Arin anything then?? HmMMmMM

[theseinfernalangels]

hellooo i’m not sure if your lil blurb requests are still open but if they are could you do 33 or 38 with bodhi?

38: Whispering, “I love you,” before a chaste, delicate kiss.

“Durran!” A squadmate’s voice rings out from across the gym. “You coming?”

The aforementioned boy blinks once or twice, glancing at the door and then back at you.

“No,” he replies easily. “I’ll catch up.”

“Well, don’t cut it close,” his squadmate chides, pursing her lips. “I don’t want to get in trouble just because you have the hots for a Squad Leader.”

Bodhi grumbles under his breath and turns to face you again, still coaching the First-Years whilst they sparred. He wants to go stand with you so badly, but he also understands how it would look to everyone else: A marked Squad Leader with a marked First-Year clinging to her shoulder — they’d either think you were plotting something or sleeping together, and while Bodhi didn’t mind the latter, he didn’t feel like having people stare at him suspiciously more than they already did.

So, he opts to sit and watch from against the wall, admiring your strict demeanor that he didn’t get to see outside your duties. Barking commands, scolding missteps, studying the fighting First-Years with a critical eye and pointing out their blind spots. Oh, yes; Bodhi likes it when you’re all soft and nice to him, but it’s undeniably hotter when you’re not.

“Time!” You call out after about ten minutes. “Take a water break and breathe. We start again in five minutes.”

You turn and slink over to Bodhi, whose eyes light up as he sees you approach.

“You’re stalking me now?” You quip, cuffing him on his marked shoulder.

He grins but shakes his head. “I had some extra time. I wanted to see you.”

The look that crosses your face is a mix of fondness and exasperation. “Bodhi,” you huff, “you can’t just do that. You go where your squad goes. That’s the rule for First-Years.”

“Sure.” He shrugs. “Because the squad is the heart of the school, and whatever bullshit they said.” He pauses. “What about what’s in my heart, huh?”

You snort, shaking your head. “Alright, little poet. Don’t get all philosophical and romancey on me now. You have to get out of here.”

He pouts, his pretty lips dipping ever so slightly. “But I like being romancey with you,” he protests. “And don’t pretend you don’t like it, either.”

You nod. “That’s fair,” you acknowledge. “But what I don’t like is you trying to bend the rules just to come be with me.”

You leave the last part of your sentence unspoken. As sweet as that is, anyway. 

Bodhi opens his mouth to whine again, but he’s cut off by a yell from outside. “Durran! Get your ass out here now. Don’t make me report you to leadership just because you’re feeling rebellious today. It’d be a damn shame.”

You stiffen, your watchful eyes sharpening at the obvious taunts. Feeling rebellious. It seems like no matter what you or your friends do, you still can’t keep angry cadets off of your backs — especially Bodhi, whose jaw clenches a little. There was no fighting it some days, and this just happened to be one of those days.

You lean towards him, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone. “Hey,” you soothe, pressing a kiss right under his eye. “I love you, okay? Get out of here. I’ll come find you later, when things die down.”

The smile that Bodhi shoots you is strained. “Gotcha,” he mumbles, sliding from his place and kissing your forehead. “I miss you, you know.”

Your heart twists as you watch him walk away reluctantly, as if he was considering putting up a fight just to stay.

“I know.” The words are quiet enough that he can’t hear them. “Trust me, I know.”

[tenebraevesper]

Sonic the Hedgehog: Winter Jam

Welcome back everyone to Sonic the Hedgehog: Winter Jam... in the middle of spring. I had stated this somewhere else, but the reason I'm not doing these Analyzer posts (or the fanfic chapters) as often as I probably should was because of some health issues and while I feel better now, I'm still dealing with some stuff, so thank you for your patience. I can also assure you that the next chapter of Sonic Cyber Revolution and maybe even With Light In My Heart will be coming out this week.

Of course, if you guys aren't interested in an AU where Sonic and his friends are digital anomalies based on their video game counterparts and saving the day from all kinds of threats or a Sonadow story taking place Post-Frontiers/Post-Sonic X Shadow Generations, that's also fine, because we have a fun story ahead of us. X3

We kick off with Eggman staring at his monitor, with Orobot and Cubot noting how he's been working for days...

...watching reality TV?

Well, I guess that's a way to spend your time. God knows how much time I spent in front of the TV watching Takeshi's Castle... and now I want Sonic and his friends go through an episode of Takeshi's Castle. Thank you, Iasmin Omar Ata, for writing this.

Anyways, speaking of reality TV, we also find several characters showing up on the monitors, such as Barry, the Conductor and his wife (The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog) and Gadget and Ian Jr. (Sonic Forces). It's nice to see them have the time of their lives for once without being menaced by Eggman's robots.

Unfortunately, we don't know Eggman's opinion on reality TV, but we do know what Orbot thinks of them. He believes that the people in them compete over useless things and how Eggman's been obsessing over them, which means that he and Cubot have their work getting piled up... Okay, is it just me or is this the most menacing, raw emotional that Orbot has ever looked? Because that one panel of him stewing in anger is pretty cool.

Cubot then points out how Eggman told them that this was ''research'' to break Sonic, with Orbot noting how he won't leave that chair until he's satisfied. Ah, so Eggman's suffering from writer's block (or is it mad scientist's block?). I can relate to that.

Also, hi Mecha Sonic Mark III. We haven't seen you since Sonic Adventure.

Orbot and Cubot then take a look at some of the ideas Eggman put on the wall, having a Pinky and the Brain moment as they get inspired by them.

We then cut to Green Hill, where Sonic is relaxing with Tails, Amy, Cream, Cheese, Big, Rouge and Omega.

It is all fun and games, until a Giant Chopper shows up, with Sonic nervously pointing at it.

The Giant Chopper then promptly eats them and swims off into the distance.

Roll credits.

Jokes aside, they're not dead, although that was a pretty novel way to kidnap all of them. Instead, they get dropped in some kind of dark room, having no clue what's going on.

The lights turn on, blinding them, with Orbot and Cubot announcing how they have been kidnapped to participate in Orbot and Cubot's Winter Jam.

Side-note, I love how Cubot taped eye-brows, it's really hilarious.

As the Badniks cheer them on, Cubot continues the speech about how the contestants will be put through trials, with the winner taking an amazing prize:

It's a Chaos Emerald!

Also, I may have lost the count, but I believe that so far, we only saw three Chaos Emeralds being found since the whole Metal Virus fiasco - one being taken by Rouge when Rough and Tumble teamed up with her and Tangle, the other being taken by Sonic and Tails and this being the third one. You may correct me on this.

Sonic and co. are not too thrilled about this, wondering if this is another trap, and Omega is about to blast his way out. Orbot and Cubot have an ''Oh, no!'' moment, and quickly quell Omega's bloodthirst by promising that he can fight against a brand-new, big, bad Badnik. Omega finds this acceptable, and I'm already laughing my ass off. This is promising to be good.

Cubot wants them to break into teams of three, probably as a reference to Sonic Heroes, but Orbot reminds him that they lack two members.

We then get a brief flashback of Shadow just glaring at the two when they attempt to ask him whether he'd join the competition and another flashback of Knuckles throwing them off Angel Island Team Rocket-style. I really wish we could've seen how that conversation went. I guess it's no wonder they outright kidnapped the rest of contestants.

In any case, after a short break, we everyone divided into teams of two - Team Sonic, consisting of Sonic and Tails; Team Dark, consisting of Rouge and Omega; Team Rose, consisting of Amy, Cream and Cheese; and Team Big, consisting of Big and Froggy.

I also love how there's a disclaimer about how all of the cast members agreed to filming. Sure, kidnapping the cast members is a-okay, but we draw the line at filming them without their consent.

We start of with Scene Jam!, where the contestants have to create a chill holiday party vibe. Tails has already the plans out to make this perfect, but Sonic decides to use his super speed to get it done quickly, getting caught in Big's fishing hook and just stumbling all over the place getting caught in the fairy lights. Love how Tails is just done with his brother's hijinks.

Rouge and Omega have better plans, with Rouge deciding to just steal the Chaos Emerald, while Omega serves as a distraction. Omega crafts some really neat wreath pieces... then promptly locks on Orbot and Cubot, with Rouge getting blown away by the explosion from behind.

Their side collapses, leaving them all buried in the rubble after Omega's antics. Meanwhile, Team Rose is doing quite well for themselves, making pastries and a cake... out of veggies? I don't think I'd want to taste that, but hey, it does look nice. Okay, let's just give these two the win and move on.

During the interview, Sonic does feel bad about costing him and Tails the win. Rouge is annoyed that Omega cost her stealing the Chaos Emerald with his antics, while Omega gives her the most deadpan response about her judgement possible. Cream is promising that she will make a whole feast just like that cake, with Amy just giving everyone a nervous look. As for Big, he's just happy that he can have fun.

Next is Snowball Jam!, with the goal being to get an Eggman Doll to the finish line without it getting damaged by the other teams. We get a brief comment from Sonic on how creepy they look before turning to Team Rose as they attempt to escape the barrage of snowballs Omega is sending after them, managing to damage the Eggman Doll.

Next we have Team Sonic, with Sonic being confident that his super speed can get them the win, and while he avoids the snowballs, the Eggman Doll still get shredded because it can't handle his super speed. Team Big just gives up, not even wanting to deal with this, giving Team Dark an easy win.

We go back to the interview room, with Sonic slowly losing his mind over losing the competition and Tails asking Orbot to cut this part out. Orbot's like ''Nope!'', and let's be honest, if there's one thing that viewers like, it's the drama behind the scenes. That, and it's always good to see Sonic show more raw emotion.

Rouge and Omega are happy about their victory, Cream and Amy are fine since they gave their best, while Big notices that Froggy is kinda acting strange.

We have a time skip through several other challenges, with everyone being exhausted and completely done with this nonsense. The next challenge is Sculpt Jam!, where they have to create the best ice sculpture.

Sonic and Tails, despite being tired, still give their best, creating a really cute sculpture of both of them, being a reference to their Classic versions. The issue they run into, however, are the fact that they also sculpted the noodle limbs, causing the legs to crack and the whole thing to break down.

Sonic can only stare in shock as he falls on his knees, completely defeated in both mind and spirit. Orbot then comments how Eggman may have been onto something with this reality TV stuff if Sonic can break down like this.

While Team Dark and Team Rose are doing their own thing, Big is still confused by why Froggy is acting strange, only to for the frog to suddenly fire a laser blast at the ice block, creating a sculpture of a rather shapely Dr. Eggman holding the Chaos Emerald.

Orbot and Cubot panic, because let's be real, I doubt that Froggy should be capable of doing this.

They then reveal that Froggy is actually a production plant, much to everyone's shock (and Sonic's exasperation, although that may be because Amy's hugging him), while Rouge is trying to quietly sneak away. I do love how even the Badniks are shocked by this.

Cubot explains how Froggy wasn't captured, so they had to improvise and how this is the ''big, bad Badnik'' they used to bait Omega, which I find hysterical that they get called out on it.

Omega immediately locks on and just destroys the entire arena, while Rouge swipes the Chaos Emerald.

Eggman appears, pissed off about the ruckus, while Orbot and Cubot turn to the ''PRESS IF HECKED UP'' button.

This button launches all the contestants out of the Egg Base straight back into Green Hill, with Sonic once again face-planting and getting hit by the Chaos Emerald.

Eh, at least Big is happy that he found the real Froggy.

Tails notes how all's well that ends well, which makes more sense to be said in this kind of environment than a flooded Station Square, while Rouge notes how this was the most annoying way of getting a Chaos Emerald. Honestly, I thought it was hilarious.

Amy figures it was worth it, as we see Green Hill covered in snow and decorated. I assume that those are the remains of the Winter Jam, sent flying along with them. Sonic doesn't care, wanting to enjoy the moment while it lasts.

We then get a nice image of everyone playing in the snow, before cutting back to Eggman, who is annoyed that this was the culmination of all of his research.

He calls it garbage, deletes and destroys all of his ideas and Orbot and Cubot give each other a thumbs up, happy they got him to be more productive than just stare at the TV the whole day.

All in all, Winter Jam was pure hilarity and I loved seeing Sonic and co. being put through reality TV challenges just to see how they'd handle it, with a special shout-out to Sonic's nervous breakdown after losing his challenges.

With this, we end The Misadventures Arc, and while technically Fang the Hunter should be next on the list, it technically serves as a prequel to Sonic Superstars and I want to, for now, go through the main story instead of the Classic one.

In other words, our next arc is The Phantom Rider Arc, and I am excited to get into that one!

See ya!

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[angelthefandomobsessed]

Between Teeth, Between Claws, Between Them - Chapter 8 - Leona Kingscholar x Reader x Ruggie Bucchie

Suspicions rise in the aftermath of the Octavinelle arc.

(Masterlist: here)

(Link to AO3: Between Teeth, Between Claws, Between Them - Angel_Ashido - Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own])

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In your defense, the plan had seemed pretty solid. And, technically, it had worked… You just hadn’t considered Leona’s ability to crumble a person’s composure.

When the fight was over, you couldn’t help but wander away from the rest of the group and collapse on the ground. You needed a nap. Scratch that, you needed a two-week vacation where you could sit back and stare at a wall.

“You doing okay?” Ruggie asked, crouched before you. It seemed that you couldn’t slip away from him. 

You looked up. The lines between reality and the daze trapping you overlapped; concern was etched onto his face.

“Not really,” you answered truthfully. “But I’m not dying. So… There’s that.”

“Always a bonus,” said Leona, who was approaching from behind you. “You did good, herbivore. Kept a cool head. Most whelps would’ve run off with their tail between their legs.”

“Probably would’ve been smarter if you had,” Ruggie added. “Felt like I was breaking my neck trying to keep an eye on you… Almost got crushed by one of Azul’s tentacles ‘cause of it.”

“Sorry,” you breathed, though you didn’t really mean it.

Ruggie seemed to bristle at that. “Hey, don’t apologise, it’s not like you asked me to do that… It’s kinda creepy when you’re staring off into space like that, kitten. Whatcha thinking about?”

“Wondering if this is my life now. Dealing with overblots left right and centre.” You craned your head back so that you could look at Leona, who’s upside-down face remained staunch in its impassiveness. “Is this sort of thing normal?”

He shook his head. “Not in the slightest. Most people don’t live to see one overblot in their lifetime… For you to have seen three in less than a year is beyond weird.”

It seemed that you weren’t going to beat those ‘lightning rod of disaster’ allegations any time soon…

“C’mon. Let’s get you inside,” Leona said, taking a step forward and nudging your leg with his sandal. “The octopus has just about stopped his blubbering… I’d say they owe us a drink on the house for the inconvenience of it all.”

“You’re telling me! I had plans for after this,” Ruggie agreed, reaching forward and taking one of your hands in his. “Money lost, all because Octavinelle couldn’t keep it together… Wonder if I can demand compensation?”

You allowed yourself to be manoeuvred up by the duo. Ruggie kept his hand in yours and gave it two squeezes. After a solid ten seconds of him glancing at you like he was lost in a train station, you returned the squeezes, setting him at ease.

“It’s okay, kitten,” he told you, voice low. “We’re here for you. Us, and the twerpy first years too.”

“Thanks, Ruggie.”

And then, once the gears of your mind completed their revolution: “Hey, be nice to my fellow first years!”

Ruggie laughed at that, his typical grin settling back on his face. A chord of normalcy struck within you - you had finally reached the ‘calm’ part of the ‘calm after the storm’.

As you walked forward, hand-in-hand with Ruggie, Leona by your other side, you were lulled into a sense of safety…

A sense of safety that was shattered by one Ace Trappola.

“Uh, you guys are looking a little cozy there…” he pointed out. Literally. He was pointing a finger at your hand, and, by extension the hand it was joined with.

“You’re back,” Deuce pointed out. Less literally than his counterpart had. “I was going to go after you, but…”

“Those Banana-Claw jerks wouldn’t let us!” Grim yowled.

“Are you alright?” Jack asked.

“I’m fine now. We were going to see if we could get free drinks from the lounge. Wanna come with?” you asked.

“Hm? Free drinks? Whyever would you expect such a thing?”

You turned to glare at Jade Leech, who was baring his pointed teeth in his signature cruel-with-plausible-deniability smirk.

“Because we cleaned up your mess?”

“As I recall, you started the mess. Without your interference, we would not have found ourselves in such a situation,” he responded, eyes dancing with the thrill of a chase.

“How about this, then? If you don’t treat us to free drinks, Leona’s going to start sanding the booths in the lounge. Not completely, though; he’ll leave enough in-tact to lump you with additional fees for removing the broken goods.”

Leona didn’t snort, per se, but he did make a brief, throaty laughing-sort of sound.

Jade turned his gaze to Leona, seeking confirmation.

“You heard ‘em.”

“Plus,” Ruggie weighed in, “You should probably try to get on Leona’s good side again. He’s royalty, y’know?”

The eel’s eyes did something odd - something telling. Jade looked between Leona, you, and Ruggie. 

Did he know?

“Very well. Naturally, I was just playing devil’s advocate. Extending the courtesy of free drinks to our dear friends, who aided us in our time of need, is most befitting the Sea Witch’s spirit of benevolence.” The corners of his eyes crinkled with the strength of his forced smile. “This way, if you please…”

Jade turned to lead you to the lounge.

“Score!” Ace whispered, all too loudly.

“Where’s Azul?” you asked him. You scanned the group, looking for a second, freakishly tall head of blue-hair. “And Floyd? Should I be worried that I can’t see him?”

“Azul went to ‘freshen up’, and Floyd followed after him,” Ace answered.

Deuce followed with, “It’s… probably fine. I can sympathise with Azul. Having a past that you want to bury… We should give him space.”

“What a goody-two-shoes!” Ruggie jeered. “Kids these days… They just don’t capitalise on opportunities for blackmail like they used to!”

Blackmail… If Jade suspected that you were a little more than friendly with Leona and Ruggie, would he do something like that? He was hard to read. Always putting up a facade, though you couldn’t figure out where it started; what was an act, and what was real?

The Octavinelle boys were exhausting. Your Savanaclaw boys were open with their feelings. They knew what they wanted, and they let you know… They encouraged you to make your feelings known, too.

Of all the dorms to get wrapped up in, in such a way, you were glad it had been them.

“Soooooo…” Ace droned as you followed Jade into Octavinelle. “Is there… Something you wanna tell us, oooooor..?”

Ace could also stand to benefit from being more open with his feelings. 

“What?” you asked.

“You’re kinda sorta clinging to Ruggie like he’s a lifeline. Blink twice if you need help.”

“Me and this cute little kitten here are real good friends,” Ruggie supplied, lifting up your joined hands. “Are you jealous or something?”

“What? No way! It’s whatever! I-I mean, it’s perfectly fine, but it’s just… It’s a little strange!” Ace blabbered, face beginning to match his hair. “What I-I mean is…”

“What you mean is..?” Leona pushed, velvety deep voice resonating deep within you. 

You had to resist the urge to lean into him.

“N-Nothing,” Ace forced, pouting like a child in time-out.

“Way to make it weird, Ace,” Deuce deadpanned.

“Yeah, way to go, Ace,” Grim said, following Deuce’s lead.

***

True to Jade’s word, you were given free refreshments for your efforts. It was a stingy one-free drink per person, but it was better than nothing.

The seven of you crowded into a booth, leaving very little elbow room.

Naturally, you were sandwiched between Leona and Ruggie, who seemed determined to stay by your side.

You sipped on a sweet, yet salty, blue concoction. A menu item that Floyd had come up with, apparently.

Grim had just finished retelling the tale of Azul’s overblot, despite the fact that you had all experienced it first-hand.

“You done now, dude?” Ace asked, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Yeah, I said, ‘the end’, weren’t you listenin’?” Grim waved his little arms in the air. “And now, for the exciting tale of the killer lion man from Banana-Claw!”

“No,” you said. “That’s enough of that. Story-time’s over, thank you very much!”

“D’awww… But it’s the best one!”

“No.”

“Mrah… Fine.”

Crisis averted… The last thing you needed was for Leona to launch Grim into the aquarium surrounding the lounge.

“Never knew the little guy had such a flair for story telling,” Ruggie observed. “Maybe it would be good to hear-”

“No,” you repeated.

“Geez, you’re like a brick wall, y’know that?”

Jack filled the lull in conversation with a story from his hometown. He spoke about a place that sold novelty potions for kids, and how they managed to make them taste palatable…

It was a story that you would have liked to hear.

Unfortunately, the hand that discovered the expanse of your leg had other plans.

You forced yourself to sit still, to remain looking at Jack as though you could hear any of the words coming from his mouth. The hand stroked, and kneaded, and pressed into your hip-bone dangerously.

Remain still. If anyone saw, you would probably drop dead. You would die happy, but that was beside the point.

The urge to look down and see which of them was doing it was overwhelming. But, no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t. Looking would draw attention to it…

Drawing attention to it might make it stop.

“One time my friends pressured me to try one…”

A squeeze.

“... turned my hair purple…”

A caress.

“... the place closed down…”

Outer thigh.

“... my sister…”

Inner thigh.

“... you good?”

You snapped back to attention.

“Yeah!” Nope, too eager, they’re looking at you funny. “I just… I was thinking of home,” you lied.

Bad move; they looked depressed now.

“N-Not like that! There’s just…” The hand lay dormant, awaiting your answer. “They make jelly beans that have random flavours. Real gross stuff, mostly… It sorta reminded me of that!”

“Really?” Jack asked, before huffing a small laugh. “I guess it does sound similar.”

“Yeah. Don’t mind me. I’ve been out of it all day. Stressed because of… Yeah.”

Jack, Grim and Deuce accepted that readily enough.

Ace, on the other hand, looked less willing to brush it off.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

“Yes, very. I’m surrounded by my favourite people in this world… So I’m about as okay as I can get.”

That put everyone well and truly at ease. 

Ace leaned back and smiled. “I’m telling Cater that he’s not your favourite. Oh, and Trey, too!”

“Hey, I like them as well! Don’t start spreading rumours, Ace!”

The conversation picked up once more. This time, however, the hand found your own. 

It squeezed. You returned the gesture and then…

You looked at Ruggie. He was paying attention to the flow of conversation. More importantly, he was holding his glass with two hands.