#This does not mean that I close it or anything else

[buckleydiaz]

“I’m not gonna disappear, you know,” Eddie says, lowering his mug to meet Buck’s eyes.

“W-what?” Buck stammers, blinking away like he got caught doing something wrong.

“You keep staring,” Eddie says, carefully, “like I'm gonna vanish. Or go back to Texas without telling you or something. I'm not.”

It’s been hours since Buck met him at the airport, drove him home, made him tea. And Eddie’s felt the weight of his gaze the entire time. Buck hasn’t said much, which Eddie isn’t surprised by, honestly. He’s not really in the mood to talk himself. But there’s something quietly devastating about the way Buck is looking at him. Eddie’s not sure what to do with that.

“Sorry,” Buck says.

Eddie sighs. “Don't apologize, it’s not…I don't mind that you’re looking. Just—you know you can talk to me, right?“

“I know,” Buck says. He’s trying to sound casual but his voice comes out just a little unsteady. Enough for Eddie to catch it.

“It’s, uh, it’s not that,” Buck adds, after a beat.

“What?”

“I don't—I don't think you’re gonna vanish. It's just… you look different.”

“You mean this?” Eddie rubs at his chin self consciously.

Buck’s eyes flicker momentarily to Eddie’s face before his gaze drops again. He nods.

After Eddie got the call, he couldn’t help but blame himself. He should have been there. Maybe if he was, Bobby would still be here—with his team, with his family. Not for the first time, Eddie felt like he couldn’t bear the sight of his own reflection. He felt small, useless. He thought maybe it would get easier with time. It didn’t. And with each day, as the guilt grew, so did the stubble on his face—thicker, darker. An awful reminder of the time that passed since Bobby—

Eddie sets the mug down, afraid it’s gonna shatter in his grip.

“You don’t like it?” he asks, and the words taste like ash in his mouth.

“No it, uh, it looks good. You always look good. It’s just—god, it’s stupid.”

“Hey,” Eddie bumps Buck’s foot under the table, keeps it there. “Whatever you’re feeling, it’s not stupid.”

“I’m…” Buck exhales, “I’m not sure if you’re real.”

Eddie opens his mouth, then closes it.

Buck shrugs. “Told you it’s stupid.”

“No! No, um, I—what do you mean I’m not real?”

There’s a moment where Buck doesn’t say anything, just stares at his own hands on the table, fidgets with his fingers. Eddie waits. Doesn’t push.

Eventually Buck speaks.

“After the lightning strikes, after the uh—“ Buck clears his throat, “the coma. I had this thing I used to do every morning. A-a checklist. To make sure I wasn’t dreaming. That I was still me.” Buck’s eyes stay locked on his hands, and Eddie desperately wishes he’d look at him again. “Ever since he—“ Buck stops, swallows, sniffs. “I wake up and I pray for this to be a dream. An awful, terrible nightmare. I pray, Eddie. And it’s—“

Buck’s hands are shaking. Eddie reaches out, takes them in his own.

Buck finally looks up. His eyes are impossibly sad and impossibly blue, and Eddie is struck by how beautiful he is. It’s a weird thought to have at that moment, but it’s true nonetheless.

“Sorry, this is so embarrassing,” Buck says, a little wetly.

“Hey, it’s not embarrassing, okay? You’re dealing with it. We all are.”

“Look, I know you’re real. I know that. But also just—everything is so different, you know? Nothing makes sense anymore and you look different. And it’s like—like, how do I know I’m not dreaming?” Buck says. “Does that make sense?”

It doesn’t. But Eddie gets it anyway.

He wraps a hand around Buck’s wrist, lifts his hand up to his face.

“You feel that?”

Buck doesn’t say anything, just looks at him.

Eddie closes his eyes, presses his face into Buck’s hand a little more.

“I’m here, Buck.”

Buck’s hand starts moving on his face, careful fingers trace his cheeks, his jaw, his chin. Eddie’s breath catches when a thumb ghosts over his bottom lip.

“You’re here,” Buck says, voice barely a whisper.

Eddie nods.

“He’s really—“ Buck's voice cracks. “He's really gone.”

“I know,” Eddie says, because what else is there to say?

Eddie’s eyes sting. He lets go of Buck’s wrist and places his hand on Buck’s shoulder, thumb gently grazing the base of his neck. He wishes he could press his lips to his temple, like he does with Christopher. He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls him in, presses their foreheads together.

They stay like that, breathing together, until their eyes are red and their cheeks are wet. Eventually Buck pulls away, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his cardigan.

“Thanks,” Buck says.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. For—for being here, I guess.”

Eddie wants to tell him that he’s always going to be here. But that’s not true. He's leaving in a few days. He’s always leaving.

“Hey, you have a razor here somewhere, right?” is what he says instead.

“Come on, you don’t have to do that,” Buck protests, and Eddie is pretty sure he catches a small hint of a smile on his face.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. ”I think I do.”

[wanderingbue]

Turns out, Wilson thinks he’s gay.

He drops that bomb on a Thursday night, sitting on House’s couch, where they’re splitting a greasy pizza and a large order of onion rings. Wilson’s not nearly drunk enough for it to be a joke, is the thing. His hands and voice are steady when he explains how it’s haunted him since he was a teenager, how he ran from it and into three failed marriages, how he cheated because he liked the thrill of the chase but was always unsatisfied with the outcome. He wants to tell the important people in his life to ask them for support in this new era, and House is the first one to know.

And yeah, it could explain things. A lot of things. Like the haircare routine, the regular mani/pedis, the shoe collection. This wouldn’t surprise many people. But House isn’t sure he believes him.

Still, Wilson is his best friend, so he tries.

He doesn’t interrupt the first time he sees Wilson getting a little too close and smile-y with a male nurse. (He interrupts the second time, because he knows that nurse is a vegetarian, and House can’t have that influencing Wilson’s cooking and takeout habits.)

He doesn’t sabotage Wilson’s first date with another man. (He does steal Wilson’s phone the next morning and delete the guy’s text asking for a second date, because anyone asking so soon is desperate, and Wilson can do better.)

He tells Wilson which shirts, ties, and pants make him look gay, only this time, he means it positively. He starts TiVoing Queer as Folk for them, instead of The L Word. He offers Wilson poppers one weekend, then has to explain what they are, and how he came to find out about them in the first place (he used to rave in the 80’s, so what?).

House is being supportive, really. Even if he still doesn’t totally buy that Wilson is actually gay.

Mostly, he doesn’t think Wilson is gay because nothing changes.

Wilson still comes over most nights to watch trash TV and drink beer. He still dutifully drops his responsibilities at work, albeit briefly, to provide a diagnostics consult, or to assist in some borderline illegal scheme. They still hang out, and argue, and laugh, and bicker, and celebrate wins together, and are there for each other in the quiet aftermath of loss. They’re still the same.

Maybe Wilson is just confused because he expected to have a wife and kids, and to live in the suburbs by now. Maybe he thinks the reason for this heteronormative failure is that he’s been chasing the wrong kind of tail, instead of the fact that he spends half his time at work and the other half with House, leaving no room for anything or anyone else. And maybe House should feel guilty about that, about robbing Wilson of the life he deserves and forcing him into a fake midlife sexuality crisis, but he doesn’t.

He sort of feels bad about that part, though—the fact that he doesn’t feel bad at all.

But he’s forced to acknowledge his faults when Wilson approaches him in his office one night, trembling before he can even get the words out, I can’t hide how I feel anymore, I need to tell you the truth.

House accepts that he’s selfish because he lets Wilson kiss him breathless, knowing Wilson will never be able to kiss anyone else like this again, knowing that when he tells Wilson to take him home, he’ll never be able to leave. Now he gets it all, the early mornings and the late nights, the warm beds and the cold shoulders, the biting words and the gentle apologies, and every jagged edge left will be weathered by time.

He understands that he’s greedy because he drinks up all the praises and pleading, every filthy word Wilson moans into his ear and whispers into his skin. There’s a lifetime of hunger behind it, a cosmic collision of pain and joy and grief and devotion. It’s a wine aged for twenty years between them, bottled want and yearning, poured into an overflowing glass.

He recognizes that he’s possessive, because he knows he’s got him now, and it's for good. There’s no more sharing attention, or waiting his turn, or swallowing the bitter bile of jealousy. Wilson will stray from any map to follow his true north.

So, whatever, maybe Wilson is lying about being gay, but at least House is honest about being worse.

[demon-of-side-quest-hell]

by “Flawed” I'm gonna assume you mean a character with flaws addressed by the plot, and not flawed as in poorly handled by the plot for this, but I accept that I could still explode for misinterpreting it.

Anyways Rhyme Ortega, Rhyme Ortega was such a shocking character for me to find that I think is great, At least at the time, I encountered Rhyme right at the start of when I began making a concerted effort to give female characters in media more leeway than I have been conditioned to give them instinctively,

And because of that Rhyme was essentially the first female character that I put alot of brain power into, because she's incredible and when I allowed myself to think about her on the same level as male characters I understood that.

Rhyme is the daughter of the of the highest tier most politically powerful people, and she was raised from birth to one day carry on that legacy, so you can immediately see that she's got a lot of internalized classism, and a lack of understanding of life for people who aren't rich and powerful like her family.

Then she's been made to think that she's allowed to do anything if it's for the betterment of herself or her family including ruin the lives of 4 other people for no other reason than they stood in her way to higher power, and then because she messed up and accidentally got her mom locked in super coma jail, she developed anxieties about letting anyone else but her deal with problems, because she wants to help people so fucking bad, she really really does, so she thinks she's the only possible person to handle any situation and no one else can know what her plans are because everyone else will mess it up

And her dad doesn't even pick up that these are problems, when she steals his magic power he's just like “Fuck you for stealing my power but congrats on being such a girlboss!”

Anyways so because she's the only one allowed to deal with problems she's incredibly closed off to people about her emotions and shit, until when she meets Mini, who Rhyme as part of her own goals in becoming a powerful political figure like her dad expects of her, Rhyme has to bring Mini up from the lower class into the middle class.

I'm trying not to explain the CKC specific systems of society and approximate them to real world society so this is understandable, but the classes aren't based on Money they're essentially castes that once born into you can basically only go down in rank if you fuck up, like really really really badly, but the only way to move from the middle class to upper class is by somehow making someone of the lower class ascend to the middle class (Ascend is the actual term used in CKC)

[Warning the following is based mostly on my headcanon and personal interpretations of the lore and plot of CKC, I'll say when we're back to full canon.]

So to ascend Mini up it's implied by the game that she basically HAS to open up to Mini about herself, because she cannot ever understand how to help Mini if she doesn't allow herself to be vulnerable around Mini.

And so Mini is the first person Rhyme opens up to in YEARS, and she develops feelings for Mini, because Mini is the first person who has ever understood Rhyme, both because Rhyme is the first person Mini has let into her life, but also because they bond over their hatred of their respective parental figures, their distaste for various systems of society, and just general things like media and music and things of that nature.

[Back to 100% Bonafide Canon]

Eventually, Mini rises even further, and is able to be the same class level as Rhyme, and it's at this moment that Rhyme actually asks Mini out and they start dating, and during the time where we see this relationship, it's a very genuinely sweet and fun thing.

Eventually, Mini is "descended", aka, she fucked up big time and got her status in the hierarchy demoted all the way back to the bottom, and what do you think Rhyme does when she sees Mini in this state?

Mini who she personally helped ascend, Mini who she took the initiative to ask out, Mini who is the one who knows Rhyme the most deeply that anyone ever has

Rhyme dumps her ass!!!!!!

Rhyme ain't allowed to be seen dating someone of the lower class!!!!!!!!

But that's the thing

Seen is the operative word.

When we see Rhyme again, and the topic is pressed, she's angry, she tries to make sure people knew that she was the one to make the choice, that she thinks this was indeed the right choice, and it's a fucking lie! She's lying to herself! She's so upset about the loss she explodes, metaphorically, and then, when she sees that Mini has moved on and found someone who won't dump her for the classist bullshit of this society, explodes. literally.

Don't worry she gets better though, and when all is said and done, Rhyme is EVIDENTLY still not over it.

Rhyme hates the fuck out of hanging out with Mini's new friends.

Rhyme is so uncomfortable showing up to events where Mini is because she just wants to avoid it all, she doesn't want to think about Mini, she's content just knowing that Mini is happy and then wallowing alone in her room taking care of instruments, but the thing is, Mini actually understands that Rhyme has like 0 fucking social life, and so Mini invites Rhyme to these things because who else will? Who else is gonna stick their neck out for Rhyme, is vouch for Rhyme's better traits, will hype Rhyme up when she needs it?

[Another "this is my interpretation of canon, but isn't explicitly stated in the text" segment real quick]

Rhyme does her damnedest to try and help people, that's all she ever wants, is to be helpful, she wants to do the "right" thing. I believe in part, Rhyme tries so hard to do whatever is "right" because she wants to work back for every single harm she's done. I think for as confident, snarky, and holier-than-thou she presents herself as, she beats herself up for every single mistake, she knows in her head that it was morally wrong to dump her girlfriend on a whim because she can't be dating someone of low standing, but she thinks that she NEEDS to so she can keep the power she needs to, honestly, do fuck all with because who would've guessed it! The masters tools will never dismantle the masters house!

Rhyme messed up once, while she was a child. Caused her mother to banished away into a prison that no one would free her from. Could they free her if they wanted? Yes. Will they? No. Because Rhyme's mother spoke out, against the establishment, against the hierarchy, against the classism present in society, and covertly at that, and so when Rhyme innocently brought up some of these things to others, simply wanting to know about the situation, wanting people to explain to her why things are, they made an example of Rhyme's mother. Why yes, not even the highest of class people are safe if they pose even a shred of danger to society.

So Rhyme helps maintain society, stands to the side and glances away when she disagrees with how things are ran, firstly because Rhyme as a person of high standing has to uphold the status quo, especially as she has the power to do the opposite, and secondarily, if the system collapses, she will have no excuses for the actions she has already done, and there will no longer be any justifications she can tell herself every night.

And once Mini (and others) destroy the hierarchy, I think Rhyme understands all of that, if she didn't already.

[Personal readings of text over again, can you tell that Rhyme is one of my favorite characters in fiction?]

Thank you to anyone reading this, I have waited for a while to just gush about Rhyme, I think she's underutilized by the series, and that her one episode as the protagonist is the worst episode of the entire series (Not because of Rhyme, Rhyme's the highlight of the episode for me but that should be a given)

STOP this is the feminism checkpoint. you have to comment something you like about a flawed female character. or explode

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

──── I'VE ALWAYS KNOWN . ↳ one shot // also part of the no doubt series !

✎ᝰ .ᐟ aka jake finally says it, even though he’s known it since…well, forever.

── sim jaeyun x f!reader ౨ৎ wc. 676 ⌗ the first 'i love you' :'), fluff, comfort <3

↳ IMPORTANT NOTE .ᐟ ── this is part of my no doubt series ─ a sequel series of short drabbles that take place after the events of my fic no doubt, and show jake & reader's relationship throughout their first year together (& how jake wins her trust & love back hehe) ── THIS CAN BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT, however, there will be some easter eggs if you've read no doubt before!

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── CHAT I THINK THIS ONE has to be my favorite one thus far...i'm gonna cry jake is so precious and i just love love & i love jakeyn </3 i listened to this is how you fall in love by jeremy zucker & chelsea cutler on repeat while drafting this and those are the vibes im going for...im gonna go cry now

It’s peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Suspiciously peaceful.

Because Jake hasn’t said a word in the last five minutes—which is an actual world record.

You glance to your side.

Jake’s hand is warm in yours.

His mind?

Somewhere else entirely.

It’s quiet. It’s late. The kind of the late where everything feels simpler. Softer. Where the streetlights begin to glow above you, where the river reflects the sky’s first stars. Where the only sound to the distant hum of the city around you is the crunch of your steps synced together.

And Jake is still. Not talking.

“You’re being uncharacteristically quiet,” you tease lightly, elbowing him gently. “Where did my boyfriend go?”

Jake lets out a breathy laugh—barely there—as he turns to you, shaking his head.

“I’m here,” he says, squeezing your hand tighter. “Just…thinking.”

Oh. 

You stop walking.

He stops with you. Looks at you.

Jake's always looking at you.

But this time, it’s charged.

You tilt your head, your voice soft, “Jake.”

And that’s when you see it.

The look in his eyes. It’s familiar—the one he has every time he looks at you. The kind that makes your heart skip and stutter because it’s not just fondness, it’s not just affection—it’s everything.

Everything unsaid wrapped into one glance.

Everything that makes your heart feel like it’s on the edge of something terrifyingly wonderful.

Everything that says every version of his life points straight to you.

Jake blinks, glances over to the river as if the waves might talk him out from what he’s about to do.

It does not.

He lets out one last exhale.

Looks at you again.

“I love you.”

Your heart stops.

Your brain short-circuits. Eyes wide. Stomach drops.

It takes you a full five seconds to process the words, and by the time you do—

Jake is already smiling.

Gentle. Beautiful. Knowing.

Like he expected your reaction.

“It’s okay,” he says quietly before you can even try to respond. “You don’t have to say anything. I just…wanted you to know.”

Your mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again.

“I’ve known for a long time,” he continues, voice steady, warm, his eyes never leaving yours once. “Like, way before I even deserved to say it.”

He lets out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. His cheeks are pink. He runs his thumb over your knuckles back and forth as if to ground himself.

“And, honestly, I think you knew a long time ago too.”

You swallow hard.

Because yeah. You did.

Jake has always loved you in the way he softens his voice when he talks to you. In the way he never lets you walk on the side of the road. In the way he shows up, over and over again—no matter how many times you tried to build your walls up.

He lifts your intertwined hands to his lips and kisses your fingers, one by one, like he’s spilling his feelings out again—I love you, I love you, I love you.

“I just—I wanted you to know,” he murmurs, quieter this time. “No pressure. No expectations. Just…it’s yours. My heart. If you want it.”

And god, you break a little.

Because he means it. He means it.

He knows it. You know it.

You look at him—the boy who’s loved you so unapologetically, even when you weren’t sure if you deserved it yet.

And he waits.

Jake waits. Patient. Sure.

Then—you step forward and wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face into his chest, losing yourself completely to his warmth, his comfort, your home.

Jake exhales—something between a laugh and a breath of relief—and melts into you instantly, planting a kiss into your hair as he holds you tight.

When you finally pull away, your eyes meet his—and he’s already smiling. So soft. So tender. 

So yours. 

His eyes crinkle at the corners, full of something that feels like forever.

Jake doesn’t ask for anything more.

Doesn’t push.

He just reaches out, lacing his fingers through yours.

And then he keeps walking.

And you follow.

<< past || no doubt m. list || next >>

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[velvetinks]

He didn’t know

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, Joel’s death, graphic grief, emotional breakdown, heavy themes of loss, Ellie grieving, mention of violence, tear-jerker

You were eight weeks pregnant when Joel died.

You’d known for three.

You’d planned to tell him the night before he left for patrol. You made stew. You wore the dress he liked. You rehearsed the words in your head until they lost their meaning.

But when he sat down at the dinner table, looking tired and distant—like something was weighing on him that he wouldn’t say—you didn’t bring it up.

You figured you’d wait.

One more day.

Just one.

And now there was no more time.

Just silence. And his blood in the snow.

You didn’t cry in front of anyone.

Not at the service. Not when Tommy placed Joel’s jacket in your arms. Not when Ellie stood next to you at the grave with red eyes and a clenched jaw like she was holding the world back by force.

But you broke that night.

Alone. On the floor of the house you used to share. In the bed where he kissed you last. In the doorway where he said, “I’ll be back in a few days,” and meant it.

You screamed into a pillow until your throat was raw.

You whispered to the child growing inside you, promised them you’d be strong. That they’d know his name. That they’d never feel unloved, even though they’d never hear his voice.

But you didn’t tell anyone.

Not yet.

Because if you said it out loud, it would be real.

Ellie showed up a week later.

She looked like she hadn’t slept. Eyes dull, fists balled in her jacket.

You let her in without a word.

She didn’t speak, either. Just walked into the living room and stood in the middle of it—like she wasn’t sure whether to sit or scream or run.

You poured her tea. Neither of you touched it.

Finally, she spoke.

“I keep thinkin’ about the last thing I said to him,” she muttered. “It was some dumb joke. Something about him being too slow. I was pissed about the patrol rotation, and I snapped at him.”

You said nothing. Let her bleed the guilt out.

She sat down hard on the couch.

“I didn’t mean it,” she said. “He was just… he was trying. And I was still so mad about—about Salt Lake. About the lie. But he was still him, you know?”

Your throat ached. “Yeah.”

“He was starting to come back to me. I could feel it.”

You stared at the fire. At the embers that were dying, same as everything else.

“I was gonna tell him,” you whispered suddenly.

Ellie looked up.

“What?”

You didn’t cry—not yet. You just held your stomach. Your flat, quiet stomach.

“I was gonna tell him,” you repeated. “I was pregnant. I am pregnant. I—fuck, I waited. I thought it would be better after the patrol, when he was home and rested and warm and safe and…”

You covered your mouth. It didn’t help the sob that broke through.

Ellie didn’t move at first. She just stared at you, wide-eyed and hollowed out.

Then she stood, crossed the room, and knelt in front of you like she was afraid to break you just by getting close.

She reached for your hand.

“Does anyone else know?”

You shook your head.

“I was scared. I didn’t know what he’d say. I didn’t want to, what if he thought it was a mistake?”

Ellie let out a breath that sounded like a laugh. Or a sob. Maybe both.

“He wouldn’t have. Not for a second.”

“You sure?”

“He would’ve freaked out,” she said. “Made a big show of being too old and too tired. Said dumb Joel shit like, ‘You sure it’s mine?’ just to piss you off.”

You smiled despite the ache in your ribs.

“But then he’d build a crib,” she said. “Fix the roof twice even if it didn’t need it. Start chopping wood every morning at five just in case.”

You looked at her. She looked at you.

“He would’ve loved that kid,” she whispered.

“I know.”

Silence stretched between you. Soft and bitter.

Then Ellie stood and grabbed one of Joel’s old flannels off the back of the chair. She held it to her chest for a second, then handed it to you.

“Let me help.”

“What?”

“When the baby comes. I don’t know shit about anything, but—I can help. If you want me to.”

You stared at her.

A girl with too much pain in her bones and too much Joel in her eyes.

You nodded.

And for the first time since you heard him scream

You didn’t feel completely alone.

[emilys-bangs]

etch | e.p

Tags: established relationship, fluff, too much tension for *checks notes* 1k words, reader gets a (hip) tattoo, emily short-circuits, no design or color mentioned

Summary: You get a tattoo. Emily somewhat loses her train of thought. Requested here.

Word count: 1.1k

Emily sheds her clothes as she walks further into the apartment, toeing her shoes off at the door, shrugging out of her blazer and draping it over the back of the couch as she goes, not really caring about the mess she’s leaving in her wake. She’ll pick them up, she always does, but for now she needs all confining materials off her body. 

It’s quiet. Sergio trots up to her as she’s dumping her bag in the laundry room, curling around her ankles with a trill. Emily smiles and bends to scratch between his ears. “Hey, handsome. Why’s it so quiet here, huh? Y/N didn’t pack up and leave us, did they?” 

Sergio pushes his head into her hand. Emily laughs, dragging her nails through his fur. “Let’s go see, then.”

He chases her ankles as she walks out, her eyes scanning the apartment for a glimpse of you. It’s quiet, yes, but not lifeless; the lights are on, the faint scent of coffee lingers along with a discarded mug on the table. “Babe?” She calls out, pushing open your bedroom door. Sergio follows as she locks her gun in the safe.

“Here.”

A sliver of light pours out from the crack between the bathroom door and the frame, your voice muffled behind it.

Emily gently nudges Sergio’s paw off of her thigh, placing a consoling kiss on his head when he meows. “We haven’t been abandoned yet, Serg. Must be doing something right, huh?” She straightens and nudges the bathroom door open, eyes widening when she sees you standing in front of the mirror.

You’re topless. And peeling a transparent piece of film from your hip, stretching it away to expose a thick, shapeless blob caked just under your navel. Emily stares as you greet her with a smile and toss the film in the trash.

“Hi.”

“Is that a tattoo?” She blurts, stepping closer.

“It is, yeah,” you hum, turning on the tap and wetting a bar of soap. It froths, bubbles growing between your palms as Emily bends a little to get a closer look, trying to discern the design beneath the mess of smeared ink and plasma. She can’t see much before you gently start washing it, rubbing small circles to take the excess gunk off of your skin. You let out a disgusted noise when ink transfers to your fingers.

Emily is still staring. You’ve mentioned wanting to get a tattoo a few times before, but it was always some sort of vague, throwaway comment you murmured with your lips on her hip bone, tracing the ink on her own skin. Everything was blurry—her attention, your voice, the notion of a design beyond simply wanting to get one. Something pretty, you’d say, and the vibrations of the words through her body were enough to clear her mind of anything else.

The tattoo finally comes into view. Your skin is raw around it, puffed and swelling, but there’s no denying it’s gorgeous. The ink glistens on your wet skin, curving intimately around your hip and cupping it like a gentle hand. Emily could mirror the same movement with her palm, only she could never get as close as fusing with your skin.

“Earth to Em.” You murmur teasingly. She looks up when you flick a few drops of water on her, belatedly closing her mouth as your eyes meet. “I’m guessing that means you like it?” You toy with your lip, teeth digging down on a grin.

Fucker.

“It’s pretty,” she says, embarrassed to find a rasp in her voice. Emily clears her throat, “It suits you, love. I’m, uh…just surprised, that’s all.”

“I finally knew what I wanted to get,” you shrug, washing your hands again before reaching for a roll of paper towels. “Didn’t want to wait any longer. I’d have told you, but you were busy. Besides,” you look at her through your lashes, “it evidently makes for a nice surprise.”

She desperately wants to wipe that smirk off your face. Preferably with her lips, but you’re busy, and she knows the demands of tattoo aftercare. Her eyes drop down to it again as you pat it dry, soaking up the water dripping down to the waistband of your pants.

“Evidently.” 

She’s already plagued with the urge to press her lips to it, drag her teeth over your skin and nibble bruises in the space between the ink. Suddenly she understands why you spend hours at her hip and lower back, wandering fingers hot on her skin as you traced along her tattoos. 

You tilt your hip and she imagines it in her hands, her nails digging in crescents, temporary permanence blooming above the stark ink that gets to stay with you longer than she will.

She’s only half answering when you ask her how the case went, how’d she eat, how’d she sleep, even though you’d called almost every night. Emily always tries to keep it vague, but this time it doesn’t even take any effort; her mind can’t focus, her thoughts as fleeting as smoke curling through the gaps between her hands, elusive. You place another sheet of film on your hip, slide your waistband up so that the tattoo is partially covered, and that’s when she somewhat regains her focus.

You’re smug as the cat that got the cream. Emily doesn’t particularly care, her back pressing against the sink as you slot into her arms, your mouth finally meeting hers for a kiss. Her hands splay over your back and gently squeeze, saying hello. She traces your spine, her fingers trailing down to the curve of your waist without permission. You smile into her mouth, the taste of your pride thick on her tongue as she gently thumbs the film on your hip, her eyes still full of the way the ink sneaks up above your waistband. Emily nips hard at your bottom lip, your laugh echoing in her ears as you pull back.

Her breathing is embarrassingly labored, catching in her chest and warming your chin in ragged chops. 

No place like fucking home.

“If you like that one,” you smile, idly tucking her hair behind her ear, “you’ll really love the one I have planned next.”

Oh, Jesus.

“What?” Emily’s throat dries. “Where?” Her nails bite into your flesh.

You run your hand down the side of your chest, fingers drumming just over your ribs. “Thereabouts,” you drawl, airy carelessness in your voice. 

Emily groans into her mouth. “I swear to god,” she murmurs, her grip tight as she pulls you in by the other hip. “You’re going to kill me one day.”

You stumble into her, laughing. “Good way to go, I think.”

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu @ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi @temilyrights @professorsapphic @decadentcatcrusade @piiinco@jareavsheavn @mourningthewicked@heartoreadallthequeerthingz

[neptunecaptains]

Homecoming

Pairing: Commander!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve's back home after a mission.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+), oral (f receiving), face-sitting, mild dirty talk, repressed feelings (slight angst), established relationship.

A/N: I haven't written fic in a long time and it probably reads like it. I haven't seen anything MCU since Dr. Strange 2/Spidey until Thunderbolts yesterday so not caught up on the lore. This popped up in my brain after a nap on Wednesday. Let me know what you think!

♡♡♡♡

It’s quiet when he comes in.

Sometime between your drifting off and the quiet snick of the bedroom door shutting, you’re aware of the time. The numbers on your bedside read 3:07AM.

A late arrival, then.

A firm, broad chest pressed up against your back, heavy arm slung low over your waist. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla and the slow sigh of relief once he’s pulled you back into him just a little.

“Hi,” Steve says.

You hum, one hand patting his own over your belly. “Hi.”

Slow, measured breaths tickle your skin, the quiet of the room only disrupted by a soft kiss to your shoulder, the nape of your neck. It’s a little while before either of you speak again.

You know Steve needs it, the comedown after a big mission.

It always starts off predictable enough— get to the Avengers compound, debrief, chew someone out if they were being stupid and reckless on the job or gently bring them back down if there were any losses, shower, return his suit and weapons, a brief psych evaluation and physical check for injuries, then get on the road back to the city.

Once he’s walking through your front door, though, it’s not until you get a good look at him that you can know how things went. Still, it’s always Steve.

“You’re back,” you murmur, voice barely there.

Steve’s arm around your waist tightens, warmth of his skin seeping into your own over the fabric of your sleep shirt. It’s one of his, an old, worn thing he bought in Jersey back when he’d first woken up. There’s a couple of loose threads coming from the left sleeve and an old stain at the hem that you swear is blood — Steve refuses to confirm or deny it — but it’s and it’s yours and you wear it to bed more times than not. 

“I am,” Steve’s mouth brushes your skin where the shirt’s slipped a little, goosebumps following their trace. His beard’s gotten a little longer, a testament to how much time he’s been away from the comforts of home and his electric trimmer. “Debrief ended about an hour ago, but I stayed for a bit to plan my agenda for tomorrow.”

Huffing a quiet laugh, you turn in his embrace. “You have an assistant for that, Commander.”

Steve chuckles, a soft, sleepy sound settling warm in your heart. He turns on his back, bringing you up into his chest, willing you closer, sighing into your hair.

His breathing’s slowed enough that you briefly wonder if he’s fallen asleep, though after almost a year of sharing a bed means you’ve caught to his tells that he has yet to drift off— the tension in his arms, the quiet, intermittent sniffles he gets before he knocks out, the fact that he’s barely really said a word about the mission at all.

“Good trip?” you murmur.

You feel him shrug, sheets rustling beneath him and that just—

Pushing off his chest, you sit up to turn on the bedside lamp. Soft, warm light fills the room, dim enough to not make your eyes hurt.

Something else does, though.

“Steve…”

A cut over his eyebrow and a bruise already turning yellow on his left temple. Red-rimmed eyes and a swollen lip. Somewhere beneath the collar of his shirt, a thin, red line extends up the side of his neck, already healing. You watch him wince when you lie a hand on his stomach, feeling the taut muscles there contract.

Your words fail, throat closing up. One of his hands wraps around your wrist, big and warm and comforting, even though you should be the one comforting him right now.

“Looks worse than it is,” Steve shrugs again. This time, you catch the way his lips thin out just a little, the slight twitch in his eye at the movement. “Y’know I’ll be fine in the morning.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m used to it.”

At that, Steve’s fingers squeeze your wrist. He knows it’s hard for you, keeping up with what he does for a living. Technically, he could’ve retired years ago, but there’s something to be said about his insatiable need to do something to feel useful.

You know he’s talked about it with his therapist, and even Bucky and Natasha had tried to talk some sense into him about taking things easy, slowing down, moving into a less-exposed role once he’d handed the shield to Sam. But Steve Rogers is nothing if not stubborn, so he’d been made Commander and only deploys to missions that really need him. But he still deploys.

Steve’s thumb brushes over your skin, eyes on yours in the dim light, a quiet apology for now. You can’t help but let it go, leaning in to finally kiss him.

It’s a soft, sweet thing, the kiss. Mouths slotted perfectly over each other, Steve’s tongue only slightly running over your bottom lip until you open up for him, let yourself slide back down on the bed with him.

“I missed you,” you murmur, lips brushing his own. “A lot.”

“Missed you too, honey,” Steve sighs into the kiss. “A lot.”

He guides you to sit on his lap, the cradle of his hips warm and strong beneath your thighs. You can feel him through the thin fabric of your underwear and his sweatpants, can’t help but settle fully onto him as you stretch over his torso.

Steve tastes like mint and iron, undoubtedly from the injury to his lip, but you’ll have him like this and any other way you can get him as long as he gets to come back home. He sighs into the kiss, reaching a hand to cup your neck and angle your head the way he wants, the other slowly making its way down your back to rest above your ass. He swallows your resulting sound, making one of his own when you break the kiss.

You pull back, eyeing him suspiciously. “Steve.”

His hand doesn’t move, fingertips slipping under the waistband of your underwear. They rest there while he looks at you, a question in his eyes. The bruise on his temple will be gone in the morning, same as the cut on his brow, but you can’t help but wonder how he got them, who he had to fight this time around.

He can tell you’re distracted, hand on your nape squeezing briefly as if to bring you back to him.

“Honey,” he says and you sigh.

Steve lets you sit up again, hands slipping from your body to rest on your thigh as you sit cross-legged next to him. His half-lidded gaze meets yours, thumb brushing slowly over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He watches you for a minute, assessing, waiting for you to answer.

In the end, it’s only right to try to be the sensible one in this situation. “You’re still in pain, Steve.”

He shakes his head, squeezing your thigh softly. “Not that much. Just— I need to think about something else right now. Can’t sleep yet.”

This has happened before, a few times.

It didn’t when you’d first started dating. Being one of Steve’s only relationships since he came out of the ice meant he’d had time to work through some stuff on his own before he tried to be with someone else, so when he’d had difficult missions at the beginning of your courtship, he’d always been upfront about needing some time before he could talk to you about them.

Lately, though, something’s been happening. Every other mission seems to be more taxing than the last.

You’re sure you’re wholly unclassified to know any of the information Steve eventually divulges, even if unspecific, but it’s specific enough to worry you. He never tells you exactly what happens, but the mornings and days after he’s managed to work through whatever he needs by working you, he makes it clear that whatever they’re fighting isn’t just the universe’s bad guy of the month.

You’re not totally complaining, but you are concerned that your boyfriend needs to blow off steam in such a way before he even considers facing his feelings.

Steve’s hands on your skin bring you back to reality once more. He’s still there, in your bed, gaze questioning, wondering where you went.

You’re sure he has an idea, but it’s not something he’s willing to address tonight.

“Please, honey,” he says. “C’n sit on my face, I won’t have to put in much effort that way.”

Steve adds the last bit as if it’s nothing, but the thought of it alone sends a flash of heat down your spine.

“You always put in effort,” you concede a little, laying a hand on his stomach where his shirt’s ridden up, thumb brushing beneath his navel.

Steve smiles at that, slowly reaching for your hand and helping you rest back on his lap. He holds your hand on his stomach, the other resting on your hip once more.

“‘S that a yes? Gonna let me taste you, baby?” He asks and your resolve is slipping by the second.

You try one last time, though. Need to make it clear where you’ve gone the past few times in as many minutes. “Promise to talk to me in the morning?”

“Promise.” Steve’s answer is emphatic, the hand laced with yours squeezing sure and strong. “Just need to focus on something else right now.”

And so you nod, leaning back a little when Steve sits up to capture your lips once again. He winces as he does so, but smooths a hand down your side while he shushes you, tries to ease your worries.

His hands reach beneath your shirt, cupping your breasts, pressing you into him, roaming over your ass and your thighs as he takes your breath away. Breaking the kiss after a while, he takes a good look at you, lips a little red and swollen beneath his beard.

“Gorgeous,” Steve murmurs, lying back down. He looks so broad like this, laid out only for you. “Love seeing you in my clothes.”

Heat blooms low in your belly at the praise, flashes even hotter when you feel the faint line of Steve’s cock pressing into you.

“Yeah?” you ask, brow raised and a teasing grin upon your lips. “Gonna be you for Halloween this year, wear your stealth suit.”

Given Steve’s resulting blush, he didn’t expect that as an answer. He goes silent for a minute, gaze heavy on you, thumbs slipping beneath your waistband once more, stroking over your hip bones.

Laughing, you let yourself fall forward onto his chest, careful not to rest too heavily on him. “Oh my god.”

“It’s not my fault you look good in everything,” Steve says, sheepish. He helps you sit back up on his lap, big hands back on your thighs. “Maybe the techs can make a version just for you. We could use it.”

“For what purposes, sir?” You snort, shaking your head when Steve gives you a slow onceover. “You’re incorrigible.”

He shrugs, smirking and pretty, brief embarrassment gone. “I’m a paragon of duty and righteousness, I’ll have you know.”

You shake your head at him again, unable to help the smile that comes on.

“Up, baby.”

He helps you get your underwear off, first through one leg then the other, then helps you scoot up his torso and towards his face. Fingers laced with yours next to your legs, he helps you settle above him, the prickly brush of his beard on your inner thighs as he brushes kisses there making you shiver.

“Already, honey?” Steve murmurs into your skin, heavy-lidded gaze locked on yours. “Barely even touched you yet.”

You feel yourself flush, only made worse by Steve softly blowing on your cunt before he gives you one long, teasing lick. Then a second, and a third. He pulls you fully down on his tongue, holding tight onto your hips so you have nowhere to go.

“Steve,” you gasp, tugging on his hair.

Steve growls low in his chest at the feeling, beginning to lap at you in short strokes, sucking at your folds, making it so wet and messy you’re sure it’s dripping down his chin.

“Want you to come on my tongue,” Steve murmurs.

He places a loud kiss to your folds, gaze locking on yours just to make sure you heard him, only going back to task once he gets a shaky nod from you.

Grinding on his tongue, sounds wet and loud in the otherwise quiet room. Steve’s hands settle on your ass, helping you move on him as he fully flattens his tongue. He switches up his rhythm, slow broad licks all over your cunt making you shiver.

“You’re so good at this, fuck.”

You feel rather than hear him chuckle at that, teeth nipping at your inner thigh. He dives right back in, eyelashes fluttering closed, mouth closing softly around your clit. You shiver, tugging on his hair again as your thighs close around his head.

“Fuck, Steve,” you moan, the coil low in your belly dissolving into warm static spreading through your limbs.

It’s a minute before you fully come to, shaking a little through Steve cleaning you up with his tongue and soft kisses to your thighs. He lies you back onto the bed, gathering you up in his arms again all while murmuring soft and sweet. Pressing chaste kisses to your lips, he answers your quiet noises with his own, nosing at you as your eyes open once more.

“Back with me?” he says, face brightening at your soft sound. “There she is.”

You hum, burying your face in his neck. “My ears are ringing.”

Steve lets out an actual belly laugh at that, his entire body shaking with it, your own heart glowing from it. “That good, huh?”

“Shut up,” you groan, weakly pushing at his chest. Placing a soft kiss on his jaw at his half-hearted ow, you let yourself fully sink into him, sighing softly when you feel him do the same. Finally ready to sleep now, then. “I’m really glad you’re home.”

Steve brushes a kiss along your forehead. “Me too, honey,” he says, words coming slow and sleepy now. “Me too.”

[you-little-arsonist]

ok so if anyone wants them, here are some buddie fics that have mutual masturbation and/or phone sex in them (don't look at me), idk these are probably pretty well known but i'm still making my way through all of them. they are all complete and they're all rated E because well. also CHECK THE TAGS because i didn't write them all out here!

Your place is where I'd rather be instead by mickeysmyheart/ @mickeysmyheart (3.5k)

The next thing Eddie does, short circuits Buck's brain. Eddie takes his shirt by the bottom and pulls it up and over his head, keeping it bunched up and putting it to the side on the counter. Eddie is now shirtless. He’s shirtless in his kitchen. Oh. OR Buck teaches Eddie how to make lasagna over FaceTime when Eddie gets his shirt dirty and has to take it off and it alters Buck's brain chemistry.

Last night, you called on accident by mickeysmyheart/ @mickeysmyheart (8.3k)

Buck goes back to his bag and pulls out Eddie’s black tank top. He brings it up to his nose and inhales— he can tell himself it means nothing later. He moans on his exhale. Holy fuck. OR The one where Buck finds one of Eddie's tank tops in their locker and takes it home & in El Paso, Eddie brought one of Buck's LAFD shirts with him. You know the GIF.

Kiss me through the phone by mickeysmyheart/ @mickeysmyheart (2.6k)

Buck finds himself sitting up in bed— his back against his pillows— phone close to his ear. His heart is beating like crazy— both of theirs are. “That something you want, Eddie?” Buck says in a low, deep voice. “Want me to tell you how often I’ve thought about getting down on my knees for you?” Eddie’s breath hitches. That’s all it took for Eddie’s dick to get hard as fuck— twitching with the need to be touched. “Jesus, Buck,” Eddie moans out as he reaches his free hand into his briefs, touching himself. OR Buck is bored and Eddie can't sleep so the two end up having phone/video sex

to have and to hold (platonically and heterosexually) by teenytinytomlinson/ @littlefreakbuckley (21.2k)

So in the middle of Eddie’s dining room, with his brain to mouth filter non-existent (as per usual), Buck blurts out, “Marry me.” Eddie sits straight up, looking at him with eyes wide as saucers. “Excuse me?” “W-well, just think about it. If we get married I can add you and Chris to my insurance policy and that solves your problem.” Eddie’s mouth forms a perfect little ‘o’. Buck waits patiently for the floor to open up and swallow him whole. When the ground doesn’t do as he’d hoped he realizes he has to say something else. “Obviously, w-we don’t have to,” he’s quick to assure. “But if we did it would be platonic, of course, because you’re straight and–” he pauses, praying for another rogue stroke of lightning. Anything to put him out of his misery right now. “-and like I know that I’m bi now, but this wouldn’t be like that y’know? It would just be two friends helping each other out.” He’s rambling, the words won’t stop tumbling out. “Like a friends with benefits type situation! E-except you know not those kinds of benefits! Like actual benefits! Health and dental.” or, Eddie is moving to Texas, losing his insurance, and marrying Buck all very heterosexually and platonically.

A Phone Call Away by Ironkissedfanfics/ @ironkissedmage (5.7k)

Buck had his apartment to himself for the first time in months, so of course he had to take advantage of such a lovely opportunity to get off without fear of anyone hearing him. It's just his luck that he butt dials someone while he's fingers deep in himself. And he's just not sure if it's a blessing or a curse that it's Eddie he called.

while i think of you by markofalover/ @markofalover (4.2k)

Just Buck speaking, apparently, is enough to get him hard. His brain starts hurting. Like he’s guzzled down a Big Gulp sized Icee in the summertime. …or, Eddie slowly loses his mind and has phone sex about it.

anyway those are some of the best ones, please tag me if you guys know of more like this! and thank you to all these authors, you are truly doing the lord's work

[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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[misscherry-26]

For: @numberoneartisanwizard

I just want a story about John being a father please!!🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️like how is he going to handle his child if they had a tantrum, especially in public Or his child being naughty.

(Dividers made by me)

John with his son, Luke ~

"Luke Price!" John shouts, dragging the "u" more longer than anyone else.

John Price isn't the most sympathetic person when he goes to sleep. No. Sleep time for him is sacred. He can get very grumpy is just the slight inconvenience affects his schedule.

It's why this is the third time this week that his toothbrush isn't in the bathroom. And he knows the deal here.

"What?" Your seven year old casually says as he—again, casually— walks to his room, who happens to be next to John and your's.

"Here, now." John's tone is short, clear.

"Wassup?" His son says, hands in his— rocket space themed—pajamas pockets.

John's standing in the bathroom doorway of your room, shirtless, and absolutely done with the day—and it’s barely past 9 p.m. His plaid pajama pants hang low on his hips, his hair an unruly mess.

“Where is it?” He stares him down.

Luke blinks. “Where’s what?”

John’s jaw flexes. “Don’t.”

You’re curled up on the bed, half-asleep, book in hand. You look up the moment you hear that tone. That’s not a drill-sergeant shout. That’s the worn-thin, late-night dad voice that means someone’s just made one very poor choice.

John crossed his arms. “My toothbrush. Where is it.”

Luke hesitated, shifted his weight and glanced behind him like he was making sure an escape route was still viable.

John followed the glance. "Luke,” he said slowly, turning to face his son.

Luke opened his mouth. Closed it. Then tried again. “Okay—I used it.”

"You used it?” John’s voice was level, but his eyebrow was climbing into dangerous territory.

Luke nodded, then mumbled, “On Max.”

John stared.

“He needed a good brushing!” Luke defended, his little hands flying. “Mum said dogs get plaque too!”

“Oh my god,” John muttered, dragging a hand down his face.

"Max’s teeth were all… yucky. And he licked me earlier. And you also said hygiene is critical to operations. So I fixed the situation." Your son explains.

You’re already wheezing with laughter, turning your face into the pillow as John freezes like a statue.

“You brushed the dog’s teeth. With my toothbrush.” he repeats.

Luke shrugs like he’s being perfectly reasonable. “He eats socks. And cheese. And he found a Babybel wrapper under the couch—”

John puts a hand to his chest. “That toothbrush was new. She still had the tag on her!”

You lose it, laughing so hard you have to sit up, tears in your eyes.

Luke tilts his head. “She?”

You smirk, leaning on your elbow. “Wait—so your toothbrush gets a name, but I don’t even get a proper pet name? We've been together for 10 years”

John squints. “What? I call you love.”

“That’s basic.”

John sighs, rubbing a hand over his beard. He handled wars, negotiations, attacks... He handled all that (still does), yet this feels worse than anything. Because there's no manual, no school—hell, don't even training—on how to handle a situation with a seven year old.

There was a beat of silence. Then John pointed to the hallway.

“Go. Bed. Now.”

“But—”

“Now!”

Luke scampered off mumbling something about It’s called sharing... And He liked the minty part...

John turned toward the bed, deadpan. “He used it. On the dog.”

You reached for his hand as he sat at the edge of the bed, sighing deeply like a soldier just back from war.

“You survived,” you said, teasing.

He grunted. “Barely.”

John with his daughter, Sarah ~ Years later...

“No,” John said flatly, holding the massive unicorn plush out of reach with his left hand while deciding the kind of toilet paper he needed. “This thing is bigger than you. We’re not bringing it home.”

“But I need it,” his daughter—of only six years old—declared, hands on her hips, chin tilted high.

“Need?” he echoed. “You said that about the flamingo with roller skates yesterday.”

“That was different.” She narrowed her eyes. "She begged me to take her home with me."

John blinked. “It’s a stuffed bird.”

She didn't budge.

“Put it back,” he said giving it back to her, trying to stay calm. Firm. Soldier-mode. “Final answer.”

He gave her The Look. The Dad Look. The one that had made grown men freeze on the field.

Sarah blinked.

And dropped to the floor.

Like. Dead weight. Plop.

“NoooOOOOOO!” she wailed, legs kicking wildly. “You never let me pick anything! I’m just a little girl in a world full of sadness!”

John stood frozen, clutching the pack of toilet paper he’d been seaching for. The words slowly processed in his brain.

Did she just say—a world full of sadness?

People walked by, offering him the kind of glances usually reserved for emergency situations—some sympathetic, some mildly amused, some very clearly relieved it wasn’t their kid.

Further down the aisle, a young store employee in a neon vest pretended to tidy a shelf but was absolutely watching the spectacle unfold.

John gritted his teeth and stared at the ceiling for strength.

“Get up,” John said through gritted teeth.

“NO.”

“You are not doing this here.”

“I am doing this here! I LIVE HERE NOW.”

He crouched, leaned close. “If you don’t get up right now, you are grounded.”

Her eyes narrowed, teary but calculating. “Fine. Then you don’t get hugs anymore.”

John stared at her, stunned. “You’re—threatening me?”

“I’m emotionally negotiating!” she shrieked.

John groaned and stood up, running a hand down his face. “I’ve led teams through enemy territory with less resistance than this.”

She flopped again for dramatic flair. “ I want the Unicorn!

"You have a dozen of stuffed animals!" he barked without thinking, completely unraveling.

A pause.

More silence.

John took a deep breath. “Right. That’s it. Let’s go. No unicorn, no toilet paper, no nothing. We are going home.”

His daughter screamed in protest—an opera of despair—and grabbed the nearest shelf in protest like a protester chaining herself to a tree.

“No! Daddy, NO!"

John carried her like a sack of potatoes, screaming into his ear.

She finally quieted once they got to the car.

Sniffling, arms crossed, cheeks red and blotchy.

John sat in the front seat, eyes blank, hands on the wheel.

“Deep breaths... Deep breaths." he muttered to himself.

His phone buzzed.

You: Everything good?

He stared at the message for a long moment.

Then replied:

John: She staged a coup over a stuffed unicorn. I lost. I don’t even know who I am anymore.

He looked in the mirror at her in the back seat—now quietly singing to herself like nothing ever happened.

She met his eyes.

Smiled sweetly.

“Daddy?” she said, innocent as sunshine.

“What?” he said flatly.

“I think you should take a nap when we get home,” she said matter-of-factly, kicking her little feet in the back seat. “You look like your head’s about to explode.”

John blinked, staring at the dashboard like it might give him the answers.

John exhaled. Slowly.

How did one go from clearing buildings with breachers to losing an argument to a six-year-old in light-up sneakers? Well, more like a manipulative, scheming, tiny sorceress with pigtails—and the emotional range of a Shakespearean villain— six years old.

He rubbed his face. He wasn’t even mad anymore.

He was… impressed. Horrified, but impressed.

He finally turned the key. The engine rumbled to life beneath his hands.

“Can we get ice cream?”

He blinked, head turning slightly.

“I was very brave,” she added, completely serious.

John didn’t answer. Just stared at the road ahead, trying to remember who he was before this moment.

[iamthecomet]

YES YOU DO. BRING US THE FOOT!

🦶

Sooooo this took me a while because I maybe got carried away and I maybe wrote 1,500 words about it?? Anyway, 1.5k of Dew breaking his foot hurt/comfort/whatever this is, under the cut.

Dew feels the crack the moment it happens. The percussion of it rattling through him. His stomach churns. The pain doesn't really hit him until later. Later he'll wonder how he managed it for so long. How he didn't collapse right there. But show adrenaline, and sheer force of will keep him upright for far longer than seems necessary.

But when it all comes in on him—it closes in fast. He barely makes it back stage before he's collapsing, guided to a couch by a helpful crew member whose name he can't remember right now—that's weird—but really he can't think of anything except for the pain.

And, of course, worse than that, that he's let Papa down.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," Dew slides off his boot—it's agony. He finds his foot swollen, bruising. He leans back against the couch and resumes his string of swears.

It's bad. Actually bad. He knows he's done something that will take weeks or months to fix. Knows he will not bounce back and be traipsing around the stage again tomorrow.

He fucked up.

"Dew?"

Aeon's voice is soft from the doorway, he lingers in it like he wants to give Dew the agency to decide if he wants help or not. Rain doesn't allow him the same courtesy adn pushes past Aeon. He's on his knees in front of Dew and his battered foot before Dew or Aeon really register him.

Rain's hands are cold when they touch Dew—it's a relief. Dew almost leans into it—relaxes—but then Rain brushes those fingers over a spot that makes pain spark through him and he yelps. Rain let's go, apologizes.

"How?"

Dew shakes his head, he wishes he knew. One moment everything was fine, the next—this.

"Papa's got medics coming," Cirrus says from the doorway, leaning in. "He wants to know if you can keep your glamour up—"

"Of course I can keep my fucking glamour up, what does he think—"Dew spits, then cuts himself off. He's trying to give the new guy grace—it's hard. He's been through this too many times already. Cirrus—to her credit—doesn't take his outburst seriously and just nods.

"I told him that—he insisted."

"I'm fine, anyway, it's a sprain." Dew lies.

Aeon finally slips into the room, he sits next to Dew, close enough to touch but holding himself back.

"Do you want me to—"

Dew sighs, looks at him. "Yeah—I—you're better at this than Swiss right?"

Aeon nods. "I'm not Aether—I can't fix it—but I'm not going to make it worse."

Dew nods and then Aeon is touching him. Cool fingers brushing over his ankle. Dew feels the static of quintesence, and then the low pleasant buzz of it fills him, the pain fades. It doesn't disappear but it takes a backseat. Aeon pulls his fingers away just as the medics papa promised walk in.

Dew waits to be whisked away to a hospital—that seems like it's the most logical next step. But that doesn't happen.

They give him something for the pain—some sort of human drug that makes his brain turn to sludge. Everything else after that is muddy, murky. He doesn't think the drugs are supposed to do that—it's probably a reaction of them with Aeon's magic or Dew's magic. Or just that ghouls work differently than humans. Whatever it is—it doesn't matter.

Everything else is a blur. His pack puts him to bed in the hotel with strict instructions not to move a muscle. Papa peaks in on him from the door after, eyes dragging over him.

"Will you be ok for tomorrow—"

"I'm fine," Dew snaps, harsher than he means. He's glad he sounds a little drugged, sluggish, it dulls the annoyance in the words.

"I'm right next door if you need anything—"

"I'm fine," Dew says again. He's rooming with Cirrus—or at least he's supposed to be but she hasn't shown up yet. Papa gives him one more lingering look and then slips away, the door closes with a soft click behind him.

Dew sinks into the bed, starfishes, finally, mercifully alone. The pain drags through his bones, nagging. He tries to shift and finds his leg imobalized basically from the knee down.

"So fuckin' stupid," he growls to himself. As if it's his fault. He closes his eyes, throws one arm over it. Hopes that Cirrus stays with Aurora and Tempest tonight so he can wallow and rage alone.

He's barely had the thought when his phone is ringing on the bedside table. He ignores it. It rings again immediately.

He lets it ring through three times before he realizes whoever is calling him isn't going to fucking stop. It's probably Perpetua, or Swiss, or satan forbid fucking Copia checking up on him.

He fumbles for the phone blindly, presses it to his ear.

"What?"

"Dew…"

Aether.

Dew's heart stutters in his chest, the voice knocks the wind from him the way it always does. He didn't tell Aether—didn't text him. It's early in the morning back home and the last thing Dew wanted to do was wake him up with this. But Aether's voice is gravely with sleep and worry and it's like Dew can feel his concern in very foundations of the earth beneath him.

"Hey, Aeth. Sorry, thought you were Copia."

"You should have called me."

"It's a fracture.I didn't want to wake you." Dew shifts up in bed. "I'm fine."

"I don't care."

Dew groans, rubs his free hand over his face. "Aether—"

"No. Don't do that. You promised me you'd call after every show, Dew. You promised. You break it after two days? Cirrus had to tell me?"

"Snitch."

"Dewdrop."

Dew sighs. Half of him wishes Aether had video called him so he could look at him. So he could fix his face into something easy and unbothered and reassure Aether that everything, really, is fine. But at the same time, he's glad for the privacy. For the allowance to move and grimace and chew on his lip until it's raw while they talk.

"I didn't really have time to call you, they gave me painkillers—fucked me up. I thought about texting you but that seemed—I don't know—worse? I'm sorry," he relents, finally. "I'm sorry I'm clumsy and stupid and—"

"Stop."

Dew does, words dying. He feels Aether's word deep in his bones. He presses his lips together.

"I'm not—you think I'm mad that you got hurt?"

Dew lets out a harsh laugh. "That's what everyone's upset about. Perpetua's worried I'm not going to be able to play, or I'm going to drop my glamour in front of a paramedic or whatever. I fucked up and now—" Dew gestures to his foot like Aether can see it "I get to hobble around stage for however many weeks. That'll make a good show—"

"Fuck the show." Aether says. "I'm—Dew—Dew you promised you'd call and the second something goes wrong you just—don't? I was worried about you."

"You don't have to worry about me."

"I know I don't—but I do anyway. That's how it works." Aether's voice goes soft, easy. Dew feels it like a warm blanket. His throat burns, he blinks up at the ceiling to try to clear the tears.

"I can't do anything right, Aeth. Can't play a show without fucking up. Can't even do what you asked. Can't—"

"Enough. Just—" Aether takes a deep breath. Dew can picture him, propped up against his headboard, shirtless, the sun rising through the eastern window. He closes his eyes and pretends he's there with him. If he tries hard enough he can almost smell the lavender, the ozone, home.

"Just what?"

"Let's start over. Tell me about your day, like usual."

"You first," Dew says. "I went first last night."

Aether's chuckle is warm. Dew sinks down, into the bed. His phone vibrates, he glances at it as Aether starts recapping what happened between their last phone call, it's a text from Cirrus.

Text me when you're done with Aether. If you hog the blankets tonight I'll break your other leg.

He smiles as Aether launches into a story about a monoply game between him and Cumulus and Sunshine that nearly ended in bloodshed.

"Bet Lus kicked your asses."

Aether laughs, loud, Dew can hear the echo of it. Every ounce of it melts something inside of him, the perfectionism, the stress, the pain. He feels it drain away.

"She's ruthless."

"I told you not to play boardgames against her."

"She promised she'd be better this time!" Dew's laugh lights up the room. "She lies."

They dissolve into easy silence. Dew yawns, jaw cracking. "Miss you," he says softly. "All of you."

"We miss you too, Firefly. Frater's been pacing the hallways since he heard."

Dew rolls his eyes. "I'm fine."

"I know," Aether concedes. "Get some rest. Call me tomorrow—as soon as the show is over this time. Promise me."

"I promise."

[anonymous-dentist]

Genuinely? I think that trFoolish embracing the spread of the Corruption and risking the safety of his kingdom is kinda just like. The kind of wake up call that the kingdom’s members need?

I’m not saying he’s some crazy tyrant or that the kingdom is a cult or anything, I’m saying that their blind faith in him and in Yellow itself has led to genuinely so much alienation and hatred from so many characters from all different factions. The only people willing to join Yellow these days are the people who haven’t experienced them before, and even then it’s like. A coin flip, really, because all of Yellow is so close with each other that even new members can see red flags.

So when the king is just fine with one of the kingdom’s members being a literal Harbinger of the Fourth, one of the literal actual horsemen of the apocalypse, and when he’s chill with said harbinger spreading the Corruption everywhere, it’s like. Okay. Why?

But that begs the question of whether or not any of the kingdom members would actually question their king.

But that also brings to mind the one thing that actually unites a majority of the most active Yellow players: trPangi. trRos has unwavering faith in her king, but she’s seen firsthand how the Corruption can destroy a person down to their very soul. trZam is trPangi’s oldest and closest friend who is willing to do anything to get Pangi cured. Even trSneeg, who hates trPangi for the most part, acknowledged the dangers of the Corruption and tried helping find him a cure.

But does that mean that they’ll go up to Foolish and ask him to kick Ace out of the faction? For Zam, maybe, he’s loyal to a fault, but he also knows danger probably better than anyone else on his team; he’s seen apocalypses before. Maybe Ros, who already didn’t want Ace around anymore even before he started Harbingering all over the place. Possibly even Sneeg, who would want Ace gone for reasons besides the whole Corruption thing (being mean to Ros, maybe, or just because he’d see Ace as a threat to king and kingdom.)

And then that brings to mind Foolish himself, who is an immortal being literally affiliated with the element of Chaos and who makes a hobby out of seeing shit go down. He and Bad are two sides of the same coin: life versus death, yes, but also shared immortality and shared boredom. He cares about his mortals, but he also really wanted a war to happen. Like. Really wanted it. He Needs Enrichment!

Foolish wants the Keepers to suffer. He already hated them from the beginning- he was the first person they ever appeared to!!- but time only made the wounds deeper: Ros being taken and returned sick and traumatized, and then the Ordeals about not letting Zam and Sausage into the faction for waayyyyyy too long, and then the Keepers being way too hesitant in letting him give a life to Ros after the ball. And then they made him build. A. Statue!!!

The real question here isn’t necessarily if the kingdom’s members would confront or question Foolish about Ace and the Corruption and everything, I think the question should be whether or not he listens to them. He cares, of course, but he’s also the Totem of Death. He chose the Chaos room on Quesadilla Island. He thinks wars are fun. He’s immortal, and he isn’t infallible, and it’s quite possible that his beloved subjects might finally realize that in some capacity

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

need to know!

ft; sakura haruka, suo hayato, umemiya hajime, ren kaji

synopsis ; how aware are they of your crush on them?

cw ; gn!reader, violence, some of them are stupid asf

now playing ; need to know by doja cat

sakura haruka

romantic sensor hard at work…! again.

sakura isn’t stupid. well, academically, he certainly is. but he’s aware enough to tell when you’re acting differently around him than with the others. for one, you don’t show up at suo’s doorstep every day with food while proceeding to eat it with him. you sure do that with sakura though. you don’t bombard nirei with texts whenever you can. you sure do that with sakura though.

his stupid little romantic sensor gives it away though. whenever you do anything for him, even if it’s picking up something that he dropped or making a sarcastic compliment about him, he turns bright red and his thoughts begins to ramble a mile a minute. it’s almost as if steam is rushing out of his ears.

his sensor is practically screaming “they have a crush on you! they have a crush on you!”

the biggest problem though? he’s too insecure to realize it.

logically—and even instinctively—it makes completely sense that you’re in love with him. but emotionally, sakura’s senses are completely blocked by his past experiences. i mean, what was there to like about him?

he’s internally aware, but externally too dense to figure it out.

suo hayato

he knows the tea. and he drinks it as well.

aware? oh, suo knows. he can tell. from the slight twitch of your fingers when his hand accidentally grazes yours to the slight, nearly unnoticeable pout on your lips when he leans in ever so closely to your lips only to brush a few strands of hair ever from your face and back away. he sees it all.

of course, he likes you back. a little bit too much, actually. so much that when he closes his eyes, you’re the first thing that he thinks of. that you occupy and consume all of his thoughts. he doesn’t mind confessing first, he just needs to make sure that you’re prepared. you’d probably melt and hyperventilate if he confesses to you in this current state.

you’re so damn obvious about your crush. he thinks it’s cute.

the worst part about suo is that he’s so damn nonchalant and vague about it as well.

when he finally confesses to you, after an excruciating year of crushing on him, it’s almost like an intentional slip of the tongue. “you think no one’s going to ask you to homecoming? well, i like you a lot, and if we went to the same school, i’d ask you out.”

suo is painfully aware. so much so that it’s incredibly annoying to have a crush on him.

umemiya hajime

“yeah, of course 1+1=2!” “how’d you solve it?” “…”

of course he can tell that you have a crush on him! how do you think he leads furin without good observational and emotional skills? he can obviously tell that you’re so genuine with your compliments because of your crush on him!

and yes, he can easily figure out which are the gifts you give him because you have a crush on him and which are the gifts you give him because it’s actually some sort of special day. usually it’s the former. well, at least he’s still getting the gifts at the end of the day.

the catch?

he can’t seem to process the fact that you have a crush on him.

it’s just like how it is with tsubaki’s crush on him. he’s not stupid; he can clearly tell that you have a crush on him. but he can’t seem to process it or act on it. it’s like knowing a formula for math but not knowing what the hell to do with it or where to put the numbers.

you don’t even know if you want to call him stupid or smart.

ren kaji

he’s just as in tune with your emotions as he is with music.

kaji is leagues more normal than the others. he’s keen enough to be in touch with the emotions of others, especially as a grade captain. despite how outwardly rough he can be sometimes, he can definitely take a good read on the emotions on someone else, especially someone he’s close with.

he’s not as cruel as suo or as dumb as umemiya. does he like you back? definitely. he couldn’t even deny it. but at the same time, he’s too awkward to confront you about it. he’s horrified at the thought of coming off of brash or abrasive if he ever confronts you about your crush on him.

so he just sucks on his lollipop, watching your face turn bright red whenever you catch him staring at you a bit too intently.

you’ll be fine. he’s sure that you’ll find out soon.

[captain-huggy-bear]

CONGRATS ON 1000! YOU DESERVE THAT AND SO MUCH MORE, i’m so incredibly proud of you and i hope you know how good your writing is!🫂🫶🏼

may i request for your celly “such a good girl f’me.”+ clayton keller ;)

I decided to be a tease here and not write smut because I feel like Clayton also 100% calls you this for any little thing knowing it gets you hot under the collar because he's a tease lol I also have another request with this that I did that was nsfw here 1000 Followers Celly Finished Requests are currently closed while I work through current ones <3 Writing Masterlist

"Hey, baby?" Clay's fiddling with his shirt sleeves while you finish checking your hair in the mirror. Both of you dressing to the nines for a friend's wedding, trying to look your best while watching the clock so that you're not late either.

"Yeah?"

"Can you c'mere and help me with these cufflinks? My fingers keep slipping." You don't even think about it, moving with ease from the vanity to Clay, taking the cufflinks from him.

"Mm, of course," You find it simple enough, fingers making light work of slipping the cufflinks in and locking them all while Clay watches you, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. That should have told you he was up to something before anything else, but you're blissfully oblivious, content to just help your boyfriend with his cufflinks.

“Such a good girl f’me.” His words stop you stock still, freezing in place as they hit you like a truck, a shiver involuntarily running through you before you fully process his words and the shit eating grin on his face.

You glare at Clay, arms crossed because he knows what he's doing. Clay always knows what he's doing. He knows what words have what impact on you, can read you like a book and play you like a fiddle.

"What?" His grin only widens, dimple appearing in his right cheek like always.

"Don't even start, we have a wedding to go to!" You huff as you put your heels on because he knows exactly how those two little words effect you and you can't be late to this wedding.

"I'm not starting anything."

"Oh, really? Because last I checked those were fighting words, mister." Those were words that he knew always riled you up. Those were words that he knew would get you hot under the collar, that usually led to the two of you in a closet somewhere or your bed. They were not words you used casually in your day to day.

"Good girl, you mean?" The grin doesn't leave, teeth on show, eyes sparkling as he shrugs on his suit jacket and runs a hand through his hair. It frustrates you that even in this context those two little words make you feel warm all over.

"Clay!"

"Alright, alright!" At the time you don't realise how much of a problem those two little words are going to be. At the time, you think he'll leave it...oh you were so wrong.

It's 2am on a Friday when you bring a plate of eggs, toast and bacon to the bedroom, breaking your usual rule of no food in the there in favour of making sure he actually eats before he leaves.

Clay's checking the last of his packing when you place the plate and cutlery on the vanity for him.

"Here, I made you some breakfast, figured you'd want to eat something before you have to leave." You yawn it out, so, so tired, but not wanting to sleep while he's leaving. You needed to see him off, you hated waking up to see him gone without a proper goodbye.

"Baby, it's 2am, you didn't have to get up with me."

"I wanted to. Here." You press your hands into his shoulders, directing him to sit and eat. You stay there with your arms around him, cheek pressed into his shoulder from behind, eyes sleepy as you watch him.

"Good girl." The smirk makes an appearance, dimple forming as you glare at him through the mirror as he takes a bite of bacon.

"Clay."

"What?"

"You know what." You don't say anymore and neither does he, but you both know...God, it's become a recurring issue. His favourite thing to do to rile you up.

It starts to become a problem. Any little thing you do for him or any direction you follow gets a 'good girl' or ' atta girl' from Clay. Whether it's changing a light bulb in a lamp his hand is too big to work with or letting him do your seatbelt for you when you go for a drive somewhere.

It becomes a massive problem because soon he's finding himself nearly doing it in public, around the team, around your friends and around family. It becomes a problem because it's like you're one of Pavlov's dogs. He's conditioned a certain response from you, no matter the situation.

You're so used to Clay calling you that during sex, so used to associating it with pleasure that when he uses it outside of that? Well, your body reacts the same. Heat fills your face, restless energy fills your body, a desire to jump his bones no matter where you are hits...it's frustrating how easily he can turn that switch on for you especially when he knows that he can abuse it.

It becomes a problem that your determined to make his problem, after all he started it.

[mirai-e-jump]

NYLON JAPAN, June 2025 Issue ft. Bakuage Sentai Boonboomger Cast Members Photoshoot and Group Interview (pages and translations below)

Publication: April 28, 2025

Solo Interviews

Iuchi Haruhi

"If you were to drive with Taiya Hando, the character you played, what kind of route would you take?"

Iuchi: Taiya has a variety of information, so he could organize the perfect route if he wanted to. Still, I don't think he'd ever want to settle on the perfect one. First, we'll go shopping, then drive along the coast, and at night, we'll go to a restaurant with a beautiful night view. He'll work out a rough schedule like that, but he'll definitely make some free time to ask my opinion on where I want to go.

"Please tell us what you admire about Taiya Hando."

Iuchi: That he's willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of others. That he doesn't disregard other people's opinions.

"What's your favorite way of refreshing yourself after pushing yourself beyond your limits?"

Iuchi: Ramen!! And then boba!!

Hayama Yuki

"If you were to drive with Ishiro Meita, the character you played, what kind of route would you take?"

Hayama: To begin with, Ishiro's someone who pretty much acts alone, so I don't know if he'd be up for a drive with me……(laughs). If he does want to go with me, I'd like to go to an aquarium, as it would be an important place for him, and listen to his stories there. Of course, I know he won't talk to me that easily, so I'll try to close the distance between us on the way there so that he'll open up! After all, I played him for over a year!

"Please tell us what you admire about Ishiro Meita."

Hayama: That he was able to get over some incredibly painful and difficult experiences. I believe that's why he seems to be so happy living as a Boonboomger.

"What's your favorite way of refreshing yourself after pushing yourself beyond your limits?"

Hayama: For me, going beyond my limits means to "use my brain too much and worry alot," so I'll go to the sauna with a "packed" head in order to refresh myself to the fullest!

Suzuki Miu

"If you were to drive with Mira Shifuto, the character you played, what kind of route would you take?"

Suzuki: Mira's a girl who's able to enjoy anything and everything, so we'd drive around without any real destination in mind! We'll play songs that would get us excited for the drive and sing with all our might!

"Please tell us what you admire about Mira Shifuto."

Suzuki: That she's considerate of other people's feelings. Mira's a kind girl who would let someone lean on her if they were feeling down, while on the flip side, when something good happens to someone else, she'll be even happier for them than they are.

"What's your favorite way of refreshing yourself after pushing yourself beyond your limits?"

Suzuki: The sauna! I'll go to a public bathhouse sauna alone and say to myself, "You did a great job today~. Well done, good for you."

Saito Ryu

"If you were to drive with Jou Akuse, the character you played, what kind of route would you take?"

Saito: Jou's a police officer, so driving with him would be like taking driving lessons. We'll strictly follow the speed limit and all traffic laws. Rather than for fun, I get the impression that driving for him is a means for transportation only. Our destinations would include a batting cage and other places where we can play sports. Also, the gym. Jou doesn't have any money, so we probably can't take the highway (laughs).

"Please tell us what you admire about Jou Akuse."

Saito: One, He's passionate and rugged. Two, He's straightforward with his sense of justice. Three, He's manly.

"What's your favorite way of refreshing yourself after pushing yourself beyond your limits?"

Saito: One, Go to bed. Sleep is important. Two, push myself even further with muscle training and a trip to the sauna. Three, eat a meal while streaming anime.

Soma Satoru

"If you were to drive with Genba Bureki, the character you played, what kind of route would you take?"

Soma: We'd drive to a little known spot with a night view deep in the mountains where not many people go. While enjoying the night view, we'll eat the food he's procured along the way.

"Please tell us what you admire about Genba Bureki."

Soma: That he's not influenced by anyone, and that he's always committed to his own worldview.

"What's your favorite way of refreshing yourself after pushing yourself beyond your limits?"

Soma: Traveling with others. Going to places I've never been to before and exploring!

Miyazawa Yu

"If you were to drive with Sakito Homura, the character you played, what kind of route would you take?"

Miyazawa: We'll drive through the heart of Tokyo and stop at a drive through hamburger joint. I'd like to show him some of my favorite places and buildings in Tokyo that I know of. It'll be fun, and I'm positive his reactions will be great!

"Please tell us what you admire about Sakito Homura."

Miyazawa: That he has a strong core. He cares about those around him. The part of him that's honest about his feelings. He's determined!

"What's your favorite way of refreshing yourself after pushing yourself beyond your limits?"

Miyazawa: Down a draft beer in one go!!

Group Interview

"How was the photoshoot?"

Iuchi: It was alot of fun! In March, Yuki-kun and I were invited to be apart of NYLON JP's "365 ANNIVERSARY" project, and at that time, I also enjoyed the fashion and hair and makeup work that only NYLON could provide. I was hoping that I could "make another appearance," so I was happy to be invited back so soon. Furthermore, all six Boonboomger cast members are together for the shoot this time. Today, Yuki-kun and I were the first to enter the studio, and while we were getting our hair and makeup done, we both excitedly wondered how everyone else's looks would turn out.

Suzuki: I've always thought, "I want to appear in NYLON someday!" So, when the two of them appeared in "365 ANNIVERSARY," I said, "That's so unfair!" (laughs).

Iuchi: She did say that (laughs).

Suzuki: Because of that, I was glad that the six of us were invited this time. I was nervous before the shoot because NYLON has a unique worldview, but thanks to the car in the background, as well as the cool lighting arrangements, I was gradually able to get into the mood and do the shoot with enthusiasm!

Miyazawa: Ryu's eyebrows are gone, aren't they?

Suzuki: The no eyebrows look really suits him! I feel like he's a new Ryu-kun.

Saito: Up until now, when the six of us are photographed together, it would give off a strong impression of our Boonboomger characters. But this time, I think us cast members brought out the best in each of us. I hope that we were able to show you a new side of us!

Soma: Compared to usual, I was also in a slightly mischievous mood when we took the photos. I put my legs up on the car's dashboard.

Suzuki: You were like, "I'm just gonna do it~" (laughs).

Saito: Miu-chan's hair also looks messy~ (laughs).

Hayama: (laughs). We're also looking forward to seeing our pages in the magazine! Also, this made me realize once again how much fun it is when the six of us are together!

Miyazawa: I've always wanted to appear in NYLON too. That's why I'm really happy to have been invited to appear in this issue, but am also anxious to see the readers reactions. I hope they'll be pleased to see us in an appearance different from how they've seen us up to now!

Soma: I'm definitely curious about the feedback we'll get! I want to hear their impressions.

"Now that you've spent a year together, we'd like you to once again introduce the other members. First is Iuchi-san, what kind of person is Hayama-san?

Iuchi: He's an incredibly considerate man. Recently, there was an incident that made me personally realize it. I bumped into something during the middle of a show at Theater G-Rosso, where he was the first to notice. He brought me ice before anyone else and worriedly asked, "Are you alright?" I truly felt that he was looking at his surroundings very carefully. I also got the impression that lots of people went to him for advice. I recently realized once again that he's someone who's willing to sacrifice his own time for others.

"Now, on to the next, Hayama-san, please introduce Suzuki-san."

Hayama: Miu-chan wrote out letters for each of us at the time of the wrap up. I was incredibly happy and overjoyed, but then she walked away while saying, "I'm going somewhere else for abit~." I thought, "Where are you going?," but it turns out she had also written message cards to almost all of the staff members and was giving them out to them. There were so, so many staff members there. I was moved by her humanity to take the initiative and do something like that. Throughout the year, I discovered many aspects of her that I respect both as an actor and as a person.

"Suzuki-san, please tell us about Saito-san."

Suzuki: Ryu-kun is incredibly kind and well liked by everyone. This impression hasn't changed since our first meeting, but recently, I've noticed that when I'm feeling abit uneasy about something, Ryu-kun's the first to notice. He's very observant of the delicate signs in people's emotions, and I feel like he tries to create a space where everyone can feel comfortable. He's kind but not overbearing, and is a truly gentle person who you can lean on. Also, he loves trivia! He told me tons of trivia, but to be honest, I don't remember any of it! (laughs).

All: (laughs).

Suzuki: I was seriously told all sorts of trivia over the past year! That's why I also have the impression that he's someone who likes to learn and has a strong ability to absorb information. When curious about something, most people usually just say, "Well, whatever," but he's always eager to find out, so I think that kind of diligence is also reflected in his attitude toward acting.

Saito: It seems that even when I was small, I would always ask my parents questions about anything that interested me. Eventually, my parents got tired of answering and told me to "figure it out on my own," which brings us to how I am now (laughs).

"Now then, Saito-san, please introduce Soma-san!"

Saito: Satoru-kun is eight years older than me, but he's so friendly that I don't feel that difference. I think all of us were helped out immensely by that. He talks to us in a friendly manner, and when he joins the rest of us, he's always ready to have fun in a casual manner. Still, when the time comes, he gives off the feeling of being a proper big brother. Also, his way of talking is interesting! His way of wording things is overwhelming, and when everyone's talking, the words that suddenly come out of his mouth are so funny that I can't help but laugh. Satoru-kun also came up with the theme for the talk shows at every G-Rosso performance. I respect that about him too! He's the kind of person who makes me think, "That's the kind of person I want to be like."

"Soma-san, please tell us about Miyazawa-san."

Soma: Zawa-kun gives off slightly intimidating vibes, so at first I wondered, "Is he gonna be a difficult person to approach?" However, when I actually talked to him, he was very friendly. Since we're closer in age, I was able to ask him a variety of questions during filming that I wasn't able to ask the younger members, and he was very supportive of me. He was very passionate about his performance, and when he sensed that the vibes around him were becoming loose, he'd always tighten things up. I learned alot from seeing how a senior behaves on set, as it was different from how I was!

"Finally, Miyazawa-san, please introduce Iuchi-san."

Miyazawa: When I first met him, I had the impression that, "He's a pretty easygoing kid, huh?" However, what I felt as we built our relationship on set was that he's a kid who works harder than anyone else. I think this is what everyone, not just me, has thought about Haruhi throughout the past year. He was also never careless with his performance, but always made changes in his own way. Even though Boonboomger was Haruhi's first lead role in a TV drama, I was always surprised when he'd suddenly throw a certain challenge at me. When we performed together, in a good way, I was always nervous. When I think about it, Haruhi constantly surprised me over the past year. But strangely enough, my initial impression of him hasn't changed either. I think that's Haruhi's charm. I also love Haruhi.

Iuchi: You love me? (laughs).

Miyazawa: Yeah (laughs). I think he's the kind of actor that makes me want to work with him again in the future.

"Next, please tell us about the most "cranked up" experience you had over the past year of working together on Bakuage Sentai Boonboomger."

Hayama: In a way, I felt cranked up when Saito-kun sent a message to the cast's group LINE late at night the day before the wrap up, saying, "I don't wanna be separated from you guys."

All: Uwaaah!

Miyazawa: That was the cutest, wasn't it~?

Suzuki: So cute~!

Hayama: I had never really viewed Ryu-kun as being younger than me, but when I saw that, I thought, "Uwah, he's cute."

Miyazawa: Ryu dropping that on us made me feel like, "Ah, we really are at the end."

Saito: I was all alone during the middle of the night when I thought about it, and those feelings suddenly came over me when I sent it (laughs). During the wrap up the next day, almost everyone who had helped us, including the Directors, on set staff, and people from Bandai and the TV station, came to the set. I felt that all of the people who had been involved in the project up until then loved the show so much that they just had to show up, and I thought that was really cranked up.

Suzuki: Also, everyone loves ramen, so between takes, when we'd play rock paper scissors to decide on who'd pay for the ramen bill, I felt that it was incredibly youthful and cranked up!

"We could feel the youthfulness in that story!"

Iuchi: Even though we'd all be tired from work, we'd still go out for a meal or to play at a game center on the way home. Playing the UFO catcher together was also fun. Satoru-kun is skilled at it, so he'd often get everyone's prizes for them.

Soma: I even got Zawa-kun a horse plushie. Whenever I found a prize that I thought "he'd definitely be delighted with," I just had to win it and give it to him as a gift.

Miyazawa: I love horse racing, so it made me extremely happy!!

"Boonboomger is a show filled with love like that, but please tell us about your own personal "divine episodes" that have left a lasting impression on you or that you've received praise for."

Iuchi: For me it was episodes 44 and 45. Episode 44 was the one where my partner Boonboom was taken down, and the response from the staff and other people involved was amazing. For my character Taiya, he isn't one to show very intense emotions, but this was pretty much the first scene where I expressed such emotions, so it made me happy hearing that it "was good." For episode 45, I received countless comments from viewers, family members, and friends saying, "You're too skinny! Are you alright?!"

"That's true, episode 45 was memorable for showing an exhausted looking Taiya, but how did you prepare for that role?"

Iuchi: I decided to become unhealthy enough to where I could still move around. In any case, I took it upon myself to lose alot of weight and not sleep for the shoot. I even went for a run right before the shoot to tire myself out even further, but to be honest, it was pretty risky!

"That must've worn you out!"

Saito: The only thing you'd eat for lunch during that filming period was an apple, right?

Hayama: There were times when he'd refuse even an apple, so it was concerning……

Miyazawa: When we invited him out for a meal, he'd adamantly refuse. During that period, since Haruhi loves ramen, I'd intentionally ask, "Don'tcha wanna go out for ra~men?" (laughs).

Iuchi: You were so bad! You knew I wasn't gonna go, and yet you kept asking! (laughs). Still, holding out for ramen there paid off, as even in the footage you can see that I had lost alot of weight, so I'm glad.

Miyazawa: After it was over, you ate so much food (laughs).

"Hayama-san, what about you?"

Hayama: It'd be episode 47 for me. The scene in which I received the Boonboom Changer from Taiya and revealed that I "didn't actually betray them" was the one that got the biggest reaction. All the people I know that watched the show called me and said, "You didn't betray them!" (laughs). The four episodes from episode 43 onwards involve my character Ishiro betraying his friends, and we don't see him in the opening credits, so I didn't film together with everyone for almost a month. That's why I think that scene, where it finally becomes clear that he didn't betray them, is the one where I have the most smug look on my face out of the entire show (laughs).

Soma: For me, the episodes where I received the greatest response were the ones where Genba's revealed to be an alien, when he left Boonboomger, and when he returned. In the scene where Genba reveals himself to be an alien in front of everyone, I was able to release Genba's emotions, which he had kept hidden up until then, so it was both fun and rewarding to perform.

"Saito-san, what about you?"

Saito: I think episode 15's "Lock and Key" was the one that got the biggest reaction from the viewers. It was the first time in my life that I had to perform crying, and it was very difficult. I think it's because Director Hayama Koichiro stood next to me and supported me that I was able to do it in one take, and it left a lasting impression on me. I personally enjoyed episode 23's "Flaming Baseball Adversity." It was what's known as "the baseball episode," so including the memories of playing baseball with the cast and staff during breaks, it was alot of fun!

Suzuki: For me it's episode 36, which depicts the friendship between Mira and her best friend Aki. The scene where I Boonboom Changed by myself was the one that got the biggest reaction from fans. I performed the Change while running with my helmet off, and it made me happy that the fans thought it was cool.

Miyazawa: For me it's the final episode, episode 48. For my role as Sakito Homura, he's the additional member who appeared in episode 16, and is a man who once abandoned Earth, but his heart changed through his interactions with the Boonboomgers, and in episode 48, after hearing Taiya's words, Sakito says, "In that case, maybe we can change this world into one without screams." I felt that line was a declaration of Sakito's intention to stay on Earth and inherit Taiya's wishes. I was moved by the flow of the story, in which the man who abandoned Earth saw his friends off to space and stayed behind to protect Earth. The response I got from those who saw the scene live was great.

"Sakito Homura and Byundi were always added in through compositing during the ending dance, what's more, it was interesting that the pattern used was different for every episode."

Miyazawa: They would constantly tease me for that.

Soma: During the period when Genba and Chasshiro were out of the story, we were "removed" from the screen through the use of a technique where the composite of Sakito and Byundi was made larger and used as a mosaic effect. We were amused by the fact that anything could happen.

All: (laughs).

"The traffic safety rules presented during the ending were also different each time."

Suzuki: We would consistently record for two episodes each time! I hope it was an opportunity for the children to learn about traffic rules.

Hayama: In the episode where Ishiro and Taiya explain how to use a seat belt, the Director gave me the instructions, "Hayama, use a more handsome voice" (laughs).

Iuchi: That's right (laughs). Also, sometimes when I saw a JAF (Japan Automobile Federation) member out on the street, I'd feel like calling out to them. I wanted to say, "I also wore that orange vest during filming!" (laughs).

"The theme of this issue is "MORE THAN EVER." It means "to challenge yourself beyond the limits," so please tell us about an incident in which you "exceeded your limits!" while working on the production."

Miyazawa: Making it through 82 performances over G-Rosso's 4 stages!

Hayama: I really think we all pushed ourselves to the limits with that……!

Saito: We really did! Looking back on it now, I can honestly say that there were times when I was in a considerable amount of pain.

Iuchi: Still, because we worked so hard, I was incredibly moved by the final performance.

"What kind of view did you see from the stage?"

Soma: It was so sparkly……! There were tons of visitors crying in the audience, and I myself almost cried at the sight of them.

Saito: For the main series, during the final stages of filming, we'd have interviews even on our days off, and some of us didn't get a day off for almost a whole month. At that time, everyone was really pushing themselves to the limit.

Hayama: Also, when speaking of being pushed to the limit during filming of the main series, that would include the heat. Boonboomger had many scenes that were shot at an outdoor location, and occasionally these places wouldn't really have any shading at all. Many of the cast members have high metabolisms and sweat alot, as their hobbies include going to the sauna and the gym. So, everyone would sweat so much, that no matter how many times we wiped it away, we couldn't keep up. I think that we, as well as the costume and makeup departments, were pushed beyond the limit (laughs). Eventually, bath towels were given out to wipe away the sweat.

Soma: I got a bath towel too! (laughs). Also, we originally had small electric fans, but in the end, we were given a high velocity fan.

"What would you like to do in the future to further push the limits?"

Soma: In terms of work, I'd like to take on roles that I've never tried before, and to push myself beyond my limits by taking on a variety of challenges!

Iuchi: I'd also like to play roles that I wouldn't be able to do without properly training for a certain period of time first. For example, if I were to play a professional boxer, I'd have to obtain a boxing license before starting filming. I'm interested to see if I can become a different person if I put in the time.

Hayama: In order to continue as an actor, I need to know the world in which the character I'll be playing lives in, for example, if I were to play a professional boxer, I'd need to know about the world of professional boxers. Therefore, I'm now trying to pursue as many hobbies as possible, as I think that the more knowledge I have, the better prepared I'll be for my performance. I've been immersed in the same role for the past year, and now that it's over, I'd like to challenge myself to various things, find a new me, and push my limits.

Saito: Over this past year, I've had the opportunity to do a variety of things within the production, but I personally enjoyed the action aspects of it. The Action Director praised my efforts, so rather than pushing my limits, I want to go as far as I can with action, without setting limits for myself anymore. I want to be like Jackie Chan-san, Tom Cruise-san, and other actors who can do such amazing action. I want to become the kind of actor who can say, "I can do that kind of action myself."

Suzuki: I'd like to hitchhike around the country someday! I really love interacting with people I've never met before, and I feel that hitchhiking would make me appreciate the environment I live in now even more. It may not be possible right now, but I've always wanted to do it someday when I'm able to surpass my limits.

Soma: I've hitchhiked before! It took me two days to get from Tokyo to Nagoya and Osaka. This relates to that, but it might be that I like to go to unknown places. Lately, I've become addicted to getting off at a station I've never been to before and taking a 3-4 hour walk. And then, I'll go to places like the local archives or museum in order to learn about the history of the area. It's my current obsession, and I find that doing it heals me (laughs).

Miyazawa: I've been practicing Brazilian jujutsu for a long time, but couldn't attend lessons during the filming of Boonboomger. That's why I'd like to properly go through it one more time and get my belt.

Iuchi: Are you planning on becoming even stronger than you are now?! Even now we're no match for you……!

"You all seem to have so many things you want to do in the future! Please tell us about your recent fashion trends."

Iuchi: I've recently started getting into fashion. I'm addicted to looking stuff up online and buying items that I think are cool.

Hayama: I was originally unfamiliar with fashion, but since all the members around me are so fashionable, it inspired me to "give it a try." Soma-kun sometimes gives me the stylish clothes that he no longer wears.

Saito: In terms of my favorite clothing styles, I like American casual, or biker coordinated fashion. I'll often wear a leather jacket in my private life. And, I often wear Satoru-kun's hand me downs too! Every once in awhile, we all go to Satoru-kun's house to collect the clothes that he no longer wears. That's why if you look at my SNS posts, you'll likely see that I'm wearing the same clothes that Satoru-kun once wore, so please be sure to look out for that! (laughs).

Soma: You sure do wear alot of my clothes (laughs). I'm not fixated on a particular fashion style, but I do like clothes, so I have plenty of them. Lately, I've been addicted to crop tops. That's why today's outfit was so much fun to wear, because it showed off my stomach!

Miyazawa: I have a basic collection of street brands. Most of them are oversized items. The only pants I have are the wide kinds.

Suzuki: I'm the type of person who values material and comfort when it comes to clothes. Even if the design is really cute, I won't buy it if it doesn't feel good against my skin. That's why I pick clothes that actually feel "comfortable on my skin~" when I touch them! I like styles that are between street and normcore. I like healthy vibes!

"When this magazine goes on sale, you'll be in the midst of the Final Live Tour. Along with your enthusiasm, please tell us what you're looking forward to."

Saito: To be honest, with the exception of Sendai and Shizuoka, I've never been to any of the locations on this tour! I only went Shizuoka to film the movie, so I've never been sightseeing there. That's why I'm really looking forward to going all over the country.

Suzuki: It'll all be new scenery!

Miyazawa: Is there anything you'd like to eat when we're in a particular place?

Saito: There's a whole bunch of stuff I want to eat! I want to eat seafood in Sapporo, mentaiko and mizutaki in Fukuoka, and drink local sake in Niigata. I'd like to eat a variety of delicious foods from all over the country, and to eventually return home with a weight gain of about 3kg (laughs).

"That sounds really exciting!"

Suzuki: I don't know if we'll be able to do it, but if everyone's free the day after the show ends, we should rent a car and go for a drive.

Saito: Our driver will naturally be Soma Satoru!

All: (laughs).

Soma: Sounds good, I'd love to take a drive! The tour will take us to many different locations, so this is our chance to finally meet fans we haven't been able to see at our previous events, such as G-Rosso and SUMMER STATION. That's why I want to value my time on stage and enjoy the unique atmosphere of the various regions.

Hayama: I'm also nervous since we'll be performing our character songs. Everyone's songs are great, so I'm personally looking forward to seeing the five of us performing them on stage!

Miyazawa: After the broadcast of the main series, the G-Rosso performances, and the current Final Live Tour, we're really at the very end. I hope to have a good time with everyone who's supported us for more than a year now.

Iuchi: That's right. I'm sure that I'll have the opportunity to stand in front of my fans in the future, such as at film stage greetings, but this'll be the last time I'll actually appear in costume as my character. So, I want to do my best to make this a stage that'll remain in the memories of our fans for a long time.

"Starting from May 1, V-Cinext will be showing "Bakuage Sentai Boonboomger VS King-Ohger" for a limited time. What kind of film is it?"

Soma: As shown in the trailer, Nicola, who was a guest character in the Summer film "Promise the Circuit," makes a reappearance, and the fact that Bundorio's eyes have turned an intense red is another important detail.

Suzuki: There's an ominous feeling floating around that something will happen.

"The main story itself is a continuation of the story of the five members who headed to the BBG. Since King-Ohger is involved in the story, we think that people who have seen Boonboomger's main series will enjoy it, and that it'll be interesting for King-Ohger fans as well."

Hayama: I saw the video of the King-Ohgers and Boonboomgers standing side by side, but the King-Ohgers have a very fantasy like appearance to them, wouldn't you say? However, we in Boonboomger are dressed in a way that could blend in with regular people if we tried hard enough, so the contrast was really interesting!

Miyazawa: The worldviews in King-Ohger and Boonboomger are completely different.

Hayama: Also, on a personal note, I have scenes with Yanma Gast, King-Ohger's Blue member, and it made me really nervous since he's a senior from my agency (laughs).

Iuchi: In this film, Taiya goes to the world of King-Ohger together with Yarucar, who's an enemy in the main series. I had watched King-Ohger, so it was incredibly fresh and fun to shoot in King-Ohger's world.

Soma: We mentioned this for the final episode of Boonboomger, but it's really difficult to film in front of a green screen.

Iuchi: It was hard! You have to act in an imaginary world.

Hayama: King-Ohger's members had been filming in front of a green screen for over a year, so it made me once again think about how amazing they were.

"Finally, please give a message to the fans who are suffering from Boonboomger loss."

Miyazawa: Boonboomger's main series has reached its final episode, but the world of Boonboomger isn't over. First, I hope that you'll look forward to the upcoming film, enjoy the Final Live Tour to the fullest, and finally, I hope to end the tour happily with all the Boonboomger members, as well as all the supporters who'll come to see us.

Soma: Thanks to my performance in Boonboomger, both children and people of all ages have become aware of my existence, and I've grown both as an actor and as a person. And in this way, I feel like I want to use the areas where I've grown the most to ultimately deliver something to the people who supported me. So, I think it's been a year that was made possible by all the supporters who've cheered us on, and going forward, with the Final Live Tour and upcoming film, I hope everyone enjoys them until the very end.

Saito: It's truly thanks to everyone's support that we've made it this far. It makes me happy that you felt sad after it was over, but more than anything, it'd be great if you could say, "I had a fun year!"

Suzuki: Recently, the child of someone I know who came to the G-Rosso show said to me, "Keep doing your best, Boonboomger!" When I heard that, although we'll often say that "the story of Boonboomger will continue," I felt that for small children, the end of the program isn't the end of the story, and that they really think that the Boonboomgers will continue to save the world. For this reason, we must continue to work hard, and I'd like to continue creating a variety of works in the future.

Soma: I'll be a Boonboomger until I die.

Hayama: Throughout the year, Boonboomger conveyed the message of "taking control of your own wheel." So even if you're going through a tough time, I hope you'll receive our message and remember us when you have to do your best on something in the future.

Iuchi: As everyone has already said, having loss just shows how much you liked and loved us, so I'm truly grateful and can only thank you for that. I myself was very sad when Boonboomger ended, but when the fans said they were also suffering from loss, I realized that I wasn't alone, and that those who watched the show felt the same way as I did. For that reason, we'll give you so much "cranked up," that you'll forget all about your lonely feelings, so let's end things by having fun together!

[ryker-writes]

(･.･ﾉʰⁱⁱ

I have a request! Also new to your account >< so hello! I love your writing. Seriously. It's too bad I'm no good with words because I'd go on about how well your writing is.

Now, my english probably isn't the best. I apologize if anything is spelled wrong.

I request a twisted wonderland x male reader ( because we're lacking in male readers 😔 ) but actually if you wanna change the gender of the reader go ahead!

The reader is deaf. How would they react? Would it change anything?

You can choose which characters, I don't mind 🙃

Thank you for considering my request!

- a { partially } deaf user ^°^

Thank you so much anon! And don't worry, your english is good! I've decided to do Malleus, Kalim, and Vil. Hope those are okay! I tried my best but wasn't sure what all to go over for this one, so I hope it's good :)

Request rules and Masterlists

Malleus:

I'm going to be honest, he doesn't know how to react in the beginning

I sincerely doubt in his long life, that he's met someone who's deaf, and even if he has, the fae in Briar Valley use magic to communicate anyway

All this to say, he doesn't know, nor can he understand sign language

At first he suggests using magic, but depending on your level of magic, you might not be able to communicate well like that

So, he resorts to the classic of "I don't know sign language or anything, so we'll write to communicate"

and I do mean write, because we all know he's not great with technology, so he has a whole notebook that he dedicated to communicating

It's one of those super thick and high quality notebooks too

He does eventually learn sign language, but he keeps that notebook close and sometimes still likes to communicate with you using it because he likes looking back at your past conversations and reliving the memories of them

If you think he's leaving you out of conversations due to his inability to use sign language, you're dead wrong because he will recount everything people say in exact words, even using magic to make their words appear in the air like a screen translator

The only time he'll ever stop translating, is when the person is saying something offensive to or about you, but you'll be able to tell anyway by the flash of lightning outside and the look on Malleus' face that says "if you don't take back what you said about my human, you will face the fury of a dragon directly, and will end up being deaf yourself"

He is a bit more protective of you because you're deaf, and the entire school knows it too

Like I mentioned earlier, he does eventually learn sign, and Lilia helps him too! Sebek learns alongside Malleus because if Malleus is learning it, he feels he should too in order to be a better knight

if you ask anyone else to translate for you, he might get upset and pouty

Kalim:

Yeah, he's so lost and confused at first

Kalim knows and has met deaf people before, but he doesn't know sign language, nor does he have the idea to use magic

When he's met deaf people in the past, there's usually been a translator nearby to help him communicate

And if we're being completely transparent, he probably doesn't notice at first

I imagine your first meeting is him talking like crazy, and you trying to find a good way to tell him and communicate to him that you can't hear what he's saying

It isn't until he stops and asks you a question that you get a proper chance to try and communicate that you can't hear him

our sweet Kalim, once he realizes, he makes Jamil come over because Jamil knows sign language

Jamil begrudgingly comes along and helps translate the initial conversation

Sweet sweet Kalim, he's trying to learn sign language after that to be able to communicate as smoothly with you as Jamil does, but until then he almost always has Jamil translating, or hires a translator to travel with you around campus in an effort to make it easier for you to communicate with other students

He absolutely forgets sometimes that you're deaf and will run up to you trying to talk, and excitedly start telling you something, but sometimes his lips move so fast and he's bouncing around so it's hard for you to tell what he's trying to say

Much like him, his sign language is very rushed and messy

He's not necessarily protective or anything, but he gets really excited after he learns sign and tries to translate for everybody

Jamil is just happy he doesn't have to translate anymore

If Kalim is desperate and can't get his sign right, or forgets how to sign something, he might write it down for you

It does take him a bit to adjust to, so be patient, and sometimes he just signs without speaking or he'll automatically start signing to other people out of habit

People are confused when Kalim comes up to them signing quickly

So he's a bit forgetful, and he takes a bit to realize and learn sign, but he absolutely tries his best to accommodate you and adapt to communicate better

Vil:

Doesn't even blink

Vil has worked with many different types of people, and some of them have had hearing impairments, speech issues, or just uses sign language to speak often for various reasons

He likely already knows sign language prior to meeting you, so he has absolutely no issues communicating with you!

He speaks out loud while he signs so you have both his lips and his signs to read depending on whichever you'd like

Vil personally encourages just about all students around him to learn another language, and that encouragement gets worse after meeting you

Suddenly 90% of Pomefiore is learning sign language

Much like him, his sign language is very smooth and elegant

Even when others are talking and don't know sign language, he signs what they're saying to help you keep up and understand the conversation

He's not really overprotective, or treats you any different actually

He just treats you like another person (with a little more gentleness because he cares about you more than them of course)

Vil would only write in notebooks or on a device to communicate if that's what you wanted, but personally, he thinks it's a much slower and ineffective way of communicating

Even when signing with others, he's paying close attention to your expression and the way they sign, making sure they get it right and you're able to understand

Now, Vil is a part of the film studies club, so films and videos are something big he wants to share. That being said, because you can't hear them, he makes sure to carefully select what movies are selected and the quality of it without noise, and of course the quality of the subtitles

He wants you to be able to enjoy it as much as he does, and while sound is a big part of filmmaking, it's not a very good film in his eyes if it can't be enjoyed by people without sound

All in all, it makes no difference to Vil! He has no issues with it at all, and it changes nothing to him