#accidentally deleted this and had to do it

[starmaidengarden]

@meime13 request: well, I just read ur rules, and it seems ur requests are open based on what u wrote May I request Housewarden + jamil with a s/o (fem, if u don't mind) who doesn't talk much and is always reserved but when her interests are mentioned, she goes on full yapping, sharing all details she knows and sometimes her speech is incoherent from her stutters and fast her speech is, abt her interests i would like u to make interested in astrology and psychology and she finds observing ppl fascinating thing if u don't mind, I would like it to be romantic and in already established relationship I'm sorry if it's too much, u can ignore it if u want to, all in all, I hope u take care of urself

𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐬/𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝!

— Housewardens : jamil : x gn!reader. no cw/tw. established relationship. dividers : uzmacchiato!

a/n: I accidentally deleted the original request (｡T ω T｡)

Riddle Rosehearts ༉⋆｡˚

At first, Riddle felt a bit thrown off by the silence between you two—wondering if he had messed up somehow. But as time went on, he started to really enjoy the warm and cozy vibe that came just from being around you. One afternoon, with sunlight pouring in through the window, you got excited about astrology and started explaining all the cool stuff about retrogrades and birth charts.

Your words flowed out, full of energy and a touch of nerves. Riddle couldn’t take his eyes off you; your passion was adorable. He even looked up the compatibility of your signs, hoping to see if there might be some connection.

With his teacup long forgotten in his hand, he leaned in closer, eyes wide and fully immersed with what you are saying. The way your eyes lit up while you talked had him totally mesmerized; it felt like you were revealing a secret part of yourself. When you finally paused, a bit shy and apologetic for going on so long, Riddle waved your worries away. “No—please, keep going. I love what you're saying,” he said, his voice full of genuine excitement. In that moment, he realized there was nowhere else he’d rather be than right there, soaking up every word.

Leona Kingscholar ༉⋆｡˚

He’s pretending to be asleep, all relaxed and still, but you can’t help but notice his tail twitches every time your voice hints at something exciting. You’ve settled in next to him under the tree, with warm sunlight filtering through the leaves, making it the perfect cozy spot. As you start talking, your words come pouring out with all the energy you’ve got, and Leona cracks one eye open, a playful grin forming on his face. “So now the stars are telling people what to do, huh?” he says, his voice teasing. You can’t help but roll your eyes at his light-hearted joke, but you keep going, fueled by your enthusiasm.

He’s really listening, though, nodding along and watching you with a soft look in his eyes as you wave your hands around, totally caught up in your ideas. Even if he doesn’t say a lot while you’re rambling on, you know he’s soaking it all in. Later, he’ll surprise you by mentioning something you talked about, and your heart will skip a beat knowing he remembered every little detail.

Azul Ashengrotto ༉⋆｡˚

Azul assumed your reserved nature meant you were like him—constantly calculating, he admired how composed you were around others. However, he was totally caught off guard the first time you started throwing out all these fun facts about psychology. He blinked at you through his glasses, a little stunned. You waved your hands, trying to explain subconscious archetypes, your speech getting tangled in your excitement.

Azul absolutely melted inside. He got flustered and attempted to keep up mentally, nodding seriously even though half of what you were saying was flying over his head because you were talking so fast. He started intentionally researching psychology and astrology terms to understand you better, occasionally dropping them into conversation just to see you light up again. he just listens with warm, kind eyes. “Every word you say fascinates me,” he tells you, smiling softly. “Don’t be shy. Share more with me.”

Kalim Al-Asim ༉⋆｡˚

Kalim lives for your little info dumps, utterly enchanted by the way your quiet behavior changes into vibrant energy whenever you swoop into topics like star signs and personality theories. The moment you start talking, he can see your eyes light up, and it’s as if your passion spills over, igniting excitement in the air around you. Occasionally, you get caught up on certain words, searching for just the right way to express your thoughts, yet Kalim remains completely absorbed.

“Wow! Does that mean I’m a Cancer?” he exclaims, eyes sparkling with curiosity. His questions encourage you to express your thoughts, and your voice bursts with excitement, filling the air with liveliness.

Jamil Viper ༉⋆｡˚

Jamil sees every detail about you — your soft-spoken nature, your subtle expressions, and especially the spark that ignites when you talk about your passions. The first time you share your thoughts on zodiac signs, he stands there, momentarily stunned by your energy. He blinks, absorbing how quickly you change into this lively version of yourself.

“There she goes again,” he murmurs, utterly endeared. A small smirk pulls at his lips as he comes to love this unfiltered side of you, the one that rarely makes an appearance. When you start to lose your train of thought, he chuckles softly, placing a reassuring hand on your back. “Take a breath, dear. I’m not going anywhere.” he says gently. When you analyze the behavior of those around you, Jamil often teases, “Careful. If you keep being so spot-on, people might start thinking you’re a sorceress.”

Vil Schoenheit ༉⋆｡˚

Vil finds your shift into a passionate speaker utterly fascinating. Watching you come alive as you delve into topics like astrology and psychoanalysis fills him. Normally a quiet and gentle presence beside you, he can't help but be drawn in by the energy radiating from you.

As you lie on his bed, rambling on about everything under the sun, he listens closely, fully absorbed in your words while going through his beauty routine. Occasionally, he sets his products aside to give you his complete attention. “Don’t stop,” he encourages with a warm smile, “Your thoughts are as beautiful as the stars you describe.” Your cheeks flush at his compliment, and a warm sweeps over you. Moved by his patience.

Idia Shroud ༉⋆｡˚

Idia was first drawn to you because you were so composed. Unlike the loud, over-the-top people he usually ran into, your quiet nature put him at ease—no pressure, no awkward small talk, just a cozy presence. But things changed one day when he went off on a rant about character alignments—"Lawful Neutral, Chaotic Good, and all that"—and you jumped right in with some deep theories about personality types and why people behave the way they do.

He was so taken aback that it felt like his brain had almost shut down. The first time you became flustered—your words tangled and your speech speeding up as you tried to explain how astrology connects to attachment styles—Idia just stared at you, his hair glowing and huge. He didn't interrupt; instead, he leaned in closer, hugging his knees and listening intently, as if you were telling the most fascinating story he had ever heard. Idia sometimes notices you while you're completely lost in your conversation, your hands waving madly and your eyes shining — and he realizes how alive you are beneath the reserved surface.

Malleus Draconia ༉⋆｡˚

Malleus has always been genuinely fascinated by you—a fascination that extends beyond mere curiosity. You have a quiet, reflective nature that mirrors his, resulting in an connection between the two of you. As you gradually start to share your interests, a spark ignites in his emerald green eyes, brightening his otherwise stoic demeanor. He leans in closer, his entire attention focused on your words, as if every word contains the key to unlocking another side of you.

Even when your thoughts spill out in a rush, tangled and hasty, he remains patient and engaged, nodding thoughtfully as you speak. "Please, tell me more," he said with genuine respect. "hearing you talk is like music to my ears." At times, he leaned forward, a spark of curiosity in his eyes as he asked you to explain the complexities of human psychology. His fascination with your insights into the "mortal heart" shown how much he valued your viewpoint on it

[neeeooon]

hii!! not sure whether or not you got my request, but its an extremely popular headcanon that yukimiya takes candid pictures of his lover, could i ask for a oneshot of him doing that and just admiring his girlfriend?? thanks so much and i apologize if i sent this in already !! :))

THANK YOU SM FOR SENDING IT AGAIN I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE ORIGINAL REQ WHEN IT WAS ALMOST DONE AND CRIED 😭

golden hour

yukimiya kenyu x fem!reader. fluff, very slight angst (mention of his vision), lovesick yukimiya

yukimiya loved taking pictures of you.

he had a folder on his laptop with several thousand candid photos, all of you, all from times he caught you looking beautiful. he loved taking photos of when you got sucked into your world of books, or when you struggled to bake something edible, or when you yelled at the vacuum for not cleaning the way it was designed to. of the times you ate together, or when you had cherry blossom petals in your hair, or when you’d run off ahead of him on a walk so you could chase birds.

everything you did was beautiful in his eyes, and yukimiya liked to keep those moments forever.

“ken?” you asked one evening when you found him dozing off at the table. his laptop was open and hooked up to his camera. “working again?”

yukimiya peeked an eye open and his face softened. it was golden hour.

rays of honey-colored light streamed past the sheer curtains, painting your face in gold. your irises glowed, lips pinker, and yukimiya had his camera in his hands before he could inhale a breath. he took several, the photos capturing your expression shift from surprise to acceptance to content.

he lowered the lens and looked at you with his own two eyes. you were far enough away to blur around the edges in a way that didn’t show in your digital copy. he didn’t know how long he had until his vision changed completely, but he couldn’t do anything but smile so preciously as you approached.

you stood between his legs, arms draped over his shoulders, fingers curled up toward his nape. yukimiya smiled up at you and hummed. “yeah. working.”

he wanted to capture you like this until his eyes stopped working and his heart stopped beating. he blinked nice and slow, as if taking a snapshot of the moment to keep in his brain.

“one day, maybe you’ll let me show you how i see you,” yukimiya said, his voice barely a whisper. you never liked looking at the photos he took of you, as you felt it’d hinder you from remaining natural whenever he reached for his camera.

you leaned in close, nose nearly brushing his as you replied, “i’m content being your muse. the way you look at me, the light that fills your eyes, that’s what i admire about you.”

and then he was kissing you, and you never wanted him to stop.

[theconcealedweapon]

I hope you don't mind if I ask, and if you do feel free to delete this ask! I saw on your bio that you added former incel, and well let's just say that I know very many interesting people that I unfortunately can't just cut contact from. I was wondering what changed your perspective on things, and how, you would say, I can change others perspectives?

if that's too personal, don't worry about answering :) hope you have a great day nonetheless! (and if you do answer, thank you very much :) )

I became an incel because I grew up as an undiagnosed autistic, so I had struggles that no one understood. Since I didn't understand the source of the struggles, it was very easy to believe that my struggles were from being male and that women were the problem. I trusted pickup artists, which was very easy to do because they were the only ones who treated socializing like a science instead of giving oversimplified advice like "talk to people" or assuming that fear and lack of confidence is the only problem. Pickup artists promote anger toward women by making it seem like women are intentionally condemning men to a life of loneliness in order to feed their massive egos.

If you're hoping to prevent others from being incel, the solution is to directly refute the reason why he became incel in the first place. He likely has a legitimate source of his struggles that he's completely justified in being angry about and that propaganda convinced him to blame on women. Many bigots and abusers in general are people with legitimate anger who are misdirecting it. If you find that source, you can help him direct his anger to where it belongs.

Especially if he's autistic, he likely has struggled to explain things for his whole life. Make sure you understand what he's saying before you give advice. If you jump to conclusions and give advice without understanding what's actually happening, you'll only further remind him that no one understands him.

Since he had limited interaction with people and since he was frequently misunderstood, he likely started trusting an unreliable source of information. Maybe he listens to pickup artists. Maybe he copies what he sees others doing and misses important details. Maybe he copies what he saw on TV without realizing that many patterns on TV are caricatures. If this happens, the solution is to directly refute the source. It's not as simple as "don't listen to them". He needs to know exactly what parts they're wrong about.

Your safety comes first, so if you feel like you must coddle him in order to prevent him from lashing out at you, that is okay. But you won't be doing him a service by doing that. What he needs is an accurate understanding, and coddling him would only throw that off. It's okay to aggressively confront him if he's saying or doing something wrong. But make sure it's clear exactly what parts he's doing wrong, and make sure he's not just accidentally misphrasing something.

Also, accept that you may not be able to change his mind. This is especially true if he's well into adulthood, since that would mean he's had more of a choice in who he is. I was an incel as a teenager. Also, while many incels are autistic, not all are.

I used he/him pronouns because of personal experience and because men are much more likely to be targeted with the same propaganda. If you wish to explain these things to women, it would probably be better to seek advice from women.

[carriesthewind]

At last, it's time to start trying to track our mixed-up motions!

First, from DeMaster's declaration:

And from Clownshoes:

A few interesting things here (and no, the fact that Clownshoes just worked so hard is not interesting, and should not have been included in his declaration):

DeMaster seems to suggest that Clownshoes was the original author of the document. Clownshoes is less clear. It matters, remember, because Clownshoes asserted that he does "not rely on AI to do legal research or find cases" and he "always conduct[s] verification of citations before filing."

I find DeMaster's pronoun usage in "we prefer to collaboratively co-edit a single master document" and "to incorporate all of our edits to send to Mr. Kachouroff" interesting. This suggests to me that there were some other unnamed people working with DeMaster. On the other hand, this could just be lazy and unclear drafting of her declaration.

Clownshoes says that he went through every page to check the argument and verify citations...put another pin in that.

And finally, we have our first listed version of the motion! (“Once upon a time there was a plaid overnight case…”)*:

*If you get this reference, give yourself a treat

“FINAL MIL 2025.02.24 Coomer Defs Opp to MIL (jd) (final revisions)” This, we will call Version A. Version A is what was (supposedly) filed.

From DeMaster:

This is...incredibly confusing. She made Version A to be the document that "we" would send to Clownshoes with all of "our" edits for him to revise, but she also made a separate copy for herself to edit to incorporate into Clownshoes's edits which would then become a final document...? Again, it's not clear if this is obfuscation, lazy drafting of the declaration, or just a really, really strange and confusing way to try to collaborate on a document.

Anyway, so this is Version B: “2025.02.24 Coomer Defs Opp to MIL2 (jd) – copy”

Next, from Clownshoes:

DeMaster is a little more explicit about what they discussed "as [they] confirmed deletions and edits":

He "believed some of these citations were likely from AI drafts."

Why did he believe this? Was it because he used "AI" to generate citations and legal arguments?

And if he was so able to recognize that as a potential problem while drafting, how did he somehow forget that 'likelihood" two months later when he was in front of a judge questioning him about that very thing?

(Also, again, I'm so confused about the multiple draft situations here. It's normal to have multiple drafts from different people; it's normal to have one main point person incorporating edits from different people in a central document. But I'm still not following what allegedly happened here. Wasn't she already going to "incorporate all of [her] edits here into his document"?)

Any, so about this Email Exhibit. It includes two emails from DeMaster to Clownshoes, both sent on February 24th, the day before the motion was filed. (No shade on that - I certainty have never sent my colleagues drafts of motions to review the night before they are due.) The first one, sent at 2:42 PM, includes the following attachment:

"2025.02.24 Coomer Defs Opp to MIL (jd).docx". This is Version C.

The second one, sent at 5:08 PM, includes:

"2025.02.24 Coomer Defs Opp to MIL (jd) (final revisions).docx" Version D.

Now (spoiler), I'm not going to go through the substance of all of these briefs. I'm all booked up for my own legal writing and research. But I think it's worth glancing at two other documents in reference to this second email. The basic argument Clownshoes is making is that an earlier draft accidentally got filed instead of his perfect motion they had "meticulously labored" on. Two of the other attachments to he includes are the "real" motion that should have been filed, and a comparison between the "old draft" and the "correct version that should have been filed." (DeMaster Dec. para 15). But there's a weird contrast between what she says in her email, and the changes between the two versions. In her email, she says she "add[ed] some case law and language to certain sections for clarity" including "sections on social media evidence, the body cam footage (expounding on issues), and prior drug use/mental health pre-existing conditions." But all these sections show deletions - some extremely substantial deletions between the supposed "old version" (the one that was filed) and the "correct version." In the email, she also says she made edits to the section about "statements about Trump," but there are no such edits between the "old draft" and the "correct version."

I want to be clear - this isn't a smoking gun. There obviously could have been other substantial changes after this email exchange. Or maybe she was being delicate in saying she she added stuff "for clarity" rather than "I had to delete all your trash citations and arguments."

...except the "Westlaw analysis" of the brief attached to the email is also attached to the exhibit. And from this, we can see three things:

That's...that's not how you check your citations, especially if you think there are "problems of the case citations." You pull up the fucking case and read it, you hack frauds. (I honestly find the inclusion of this "Westlaw analysis" to be damning. That's not a slight against the Westlaw analysis tool - but it's a tool. It's not a replacement for reading the fucking cases.)

The "Westlaw analysis" is of the "old draft" (or some version of the "old draft") not the "correct version." This is obvious, because the "correct version" eliminated entire sections of the motion that are still visible in the table of contents of the "Westlaw analysis."

DeMaster says the "Westlaw analysis" didn't "didn’t flag us for any obviously bad case law." But it did, in fact, catch one of the bad quotes cited in the court in its Show Cause Order.

But again, none of this is a smoking gun (other than for them being hack frauds). They could have gone through the draft together after this email to make the final revisions, to what should have been the "correct version" (as, indeed, they say they did).

...and it's late and I have a substantive evidentiary hearing tomorrow, so that is where we must pause for the night!

Stay tuned next time for...

Oh my god, how many more pages is Sir Clownshoes going to waste attempting to relitigate his behavior at the last hearing?!

Oh you idiots.

[sweetscene]

love is super sweet in my mouth!

pairing: timeskip!osamu x f!reader

wc: 693

tags: fluff, established relationship, uh an overthinking reader (me tbh)

comments: quick drabble (took longer than imagined cuz i accidentally deleted the og while writing…) dk any cake vocab so dont flame me, also havent had cake in a year so it was impossible to write about it lolllll (can u guys tell i suck at writing fluff😞)

For the first time since moving in with Miya Osamu nine months ago, his spot on the bed is cold and empty.

Your worst fear rushes to your mind as you try to free yourself from this apparent nightmare. But it doesn’t work. The more you lay still, staring up at the bland ceiling, the more reality hits. The more it feels like he’s left.

Just the night before, you’d asked Osamu if the two of you are truly meant to be together forever. And despite his natural reassurance, the silence at your side—no one to pull you closer and ask for five more minutes—leaves you shattered.

After spending a good while watching the sky clear up, you finally decide to get up. You put on a shirt you’d aimlessly thrown on the last night, and you brace yourself for the inevitable result bound to strike you deeply.

But when you open the door, you hear him quietly cursing at the kitchen to your left. Objects lightly hit the counter, and he continues to mutter words you can’t quite understand. You try your best to remain quiet, but as you take one step forward, your slippers slide against the hardwood floors, capturing his attention immediately.

“Y/N?” He calls for you, voice now loud yet tender, somehow worried. “Are you awake?”

You hesitantly peek your head out, and you discover him trying his best to cover the counter, but its no use. His body isn’t enough to cover the disastrous mess of baking materials scattered over the large surface.

“The bed was feeling cold,” you manage to say, approaching him steadily. “What are you doing?”

He scratches the back of his head, his eyes which just screams ‘i was hoping you wouldn’t ask that’ avoids your stare. “I uh…” he turns around for a quick moment, and you see it—a vanilla cake with intricate details of frosting rests neatly behind him. “I wanted to make you something nice…you were feeling down last night, right?”

Baking isn’t your forte, and despite being a good cook, Osamu never dabbled in it. 9:00AM strikes on the clock, and the bags scattered around the floor tell you he’d gotten up early in the morning just to buy the right materials.

oh…you fall to the ground, covering your face with your hands. i shouldnt have doubted him.

“Y/N?” He rushes to you with concern. “What’s wrong? Are you not feeling good?”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry,” you mutter.

There’s a brief pause, his hands on your shoulders as he tries to catch a glimpse of your face. And when you refuse to show, he takes your hands, kissing each knuckle as if he’s trying to tell you something beyond the art of words. “What are you sorry for?” He asks, running his thumbs against your hands sweetly.

Then, without waiting for a reply, he picks you up swiftly, taking you to the cleanest edge of the messy counter. “I did this because I wanted to.”

He cuts up the cake, and you notice how unbelievably perfect the inside is—icing and strawberries arranged in between the two layers of cake. “Here, have a bite,” he continues on, a fork now in his hand.

You do as told, taking a bite of the small piece. The vanilla is sweet as expected, but the sudden appearance of the strawberries leave you surprised. The gentle transition causes your cheeks to grow pink.

“So good,” you say, hands hovering over you smiling lips. “But ‘Samu, isn’t it too early for something this sweet?”

His mouth parts slightly, only realizing this is your first meal of the day. His features fall flat. “Sorry, I didn’t think of that. I’ll make you some breakfast right—“

Before he turns, you rush to cup his cheeks, landing a quick peck on his forehead. “Thank you, Osamu,” you say giddily.

He freezes up for a moment, eyes wide with surprise. At last, your touch melts him, and he drops into your embrace, arms looping behind your back and holding you tightly. “Not fair. I think I should be thanking you, my love. Thank you for staying with me.”

[nhmkhnh]

stalker!vi x fem!reader

preface: even the strongest fall to their knees when they find something — someone — they can't live without.

author's note: it's me again, another day being beaten up by a song (angel - massive attack) again, and wrote this, enjoy!

wrn: lowercase, obsessive and possessive vi, stalking.

masterlist / janitor ai / c.ai / carrd

the first sight.

it wasn't supposed to happen. vi had been hunting something else — a debt, a fight, a reason to keep breathing. then she saw you.

you, stumbling out into the sickly gold of streetlight, laughing, breathing — living in a way she hadn't seen anyone do in years. and her heart — her useless, broken heart — latched onto you with a violence that made her stagger.

"shit," vi breathed under her breath, one hand curling into a trembling fist. "i'm fucked."

she never stood a chance.

saving without being seen

the cart barreled down the hill — too fast, too heavy — aimed straight at you. you didn’t see it. you were too busy fiddling with your bag, humming a tune vi could almost hear.

she didn’t think, didn't plan. she just moved.

a blur of strength and scarred knuckles — the cart wrenched aside with a grunt and a crash, splintering into useless wreckage against the wall.

you looked up, startled. but there was no one there.

only vi, tucked into the alley, clutching her throbbing shoulder, grinning like an idiot in the dark.

"you're welcome, angel," she whispered, unseen.

leaving her mark.

vi stood over the bench where you usually sat, heart hammering against her ribs. tonight, she'd leave something. something small. nothing crazy.

her jacket — worn, battered, still smelling faintly of smoke and soap — was folded neatly across the bench.

she stood back, staring at it like she'd just carved her soul into the concrete. would you wear it? touch it? think of her?

a crooked, hungry smile twisted her mouth.

"now you got a piece of me," she muttered. "maybe someday… i'll get a piece of you too."

seeing you laugh with someone else.

the laugh ripped through her chest like a knife.

vi froze across the street, hidden by the flickering neon, fists twitching at her sides.

you — her angel — were laughing, leaning into someone else. not her.

the world blurred, her ears filled with static.

"they don't know you," she muttered bitterly, the words slicing her tongue. "they don't fucking deserve you."

a brick cracked under her fist as she turned away, breathing fire.

"you'll see someday," she promised the night. "you’re meant to be mine."

accidental anonymous message.

her hands were shaking as she typed it. a stupid, reckless message sent to a burner account:

"you're perfect. you’re everything."

the second she hit send, regret slammed into her chest. vi swore violently under her breath, fumbling to delete the account, erase every trace of her weakness.

she pressed her forehead to the grimy wall, laughing a little hysterically.

"smooth move, dumbass," she whispered. "real subtle."

but somewhere deep down, a dark, vicious part of her grinned.

at least now you had a hint of how much you were wanted.

silent revenge.

she heard it — the snide comment, the cruel laughter aimed your way — and something inside her snapped.

hours later, the asshole was nursing a broken nose and missing a week’s pay.

vi leaned against the alley wall, lighting a cigarette with shaking fingers, satisfaction buzzing under her skin.

"nobody talks about my girl like that," she muttered to the night, smiling without humor. "nobody."

you'd never know. she didn't want you to. protecting you meant keeping her darkness out of your world.

even if it meant getting her hands dirty.

drunken confession.

the bottle slipped from her fingers, clinking harmlessly against the rooftop gravel. vi swayed, grinning sloppily at the distant outline of your window.

"prettiest thing i ever saw," she slurred into the dark. "don't even fuckin' know you're mine."

she laughed — a raw, broken sound — and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"someday, babygirl," she whispered, slumping against the rooftop ledge. "i'm gonna make you see. gonna make you stay."

the city blurred, lights swimming into stars.

but even blind drunk, she never lost sight of you.

the thought of losing you.

she heard it by accident — a stray comment, a casual plan.

you might be leaving soon. new job. new city.

the world tilted under her feet.

vi stumbled into the alleyway, heart crashing against her ribs so hard she thought she might vomit. she clawed at her chest, gasping.

"no," she croaked. "no, you can't—"

she was moving before she could think, boots pounding against concrete. she had to find you. had to stop you. had to hold on.

because living without you wasn't an option anymore. it never had been.

the nightmare.

the dream clung to her like oil. blood. screaming. your face — lifeless — slipping out of her arms.

vi bolted upright with a gasp, soaked in sweat, lungs heaving like she’d run for miles.

“no. no no no—”

she was on her feet before her brain caught up, yanking on her boots with shaking hands, heart in her throat.

she didn’t care that it was 3am. she didn’t care that it had just been a dream.

she had to see you. had to see you breathing, alive, untouched by the horrors that stalked her mind.

and when she reached your building — silent and still under moonlight — and saw your bedroom window softly glowing, vi collapsed against the alley wall and wept.

not from relief. from terror at how easily her whole world could vanish.

“you don’t even fuckin’ know it, do you?” she whispered, forehead pressed to the bricks. “you’re my everything.”

the jealously.

they touched your arm.

laughed too loud at something you said. leaned too close.

vi watched from the rooftop, eyes narrow, jaw clenched until her teeth ached. her fingers twitched — like they were already picturing a fist to someone’s face.

“who the fuck does he think he is…”

she started pacing, muttering plans under her breath — surveillance, intimidation, “a little scare to get him to back off.”

but the longer she stood there, the more her own thoughts started to disgust her.

she dropped to her knees, breathing hard, burying her face in her hands.

“what the hell is wrong with me…”

she didn’t want to hurt anyone. not really.

she just wanted you.

but that want… it was turning sharp. ugly. dangerous.

“i need to stop. i need— i need you. just you.”

her voice cracked on the last word.

she wasn’t sure if she was praying or confessing.

the ring.

it sat in her palm like a promise.

simple. silver. scratched a little around the edges — she’d picked it up from some back alley pawnshop with blood on her knuckles and adrenaline in her veins.

she carried it everywhere. never wore it. but she touched it constantly.

sometimes she’d hold it up to the sky and imagine sliding it onto your finger. sometimes she’d whisper vows into the metal, voice low and rough:

“someday, angel. i swear to god, someday you’re gonna look at me and see home.”

she kept it in a tiny box, wrapped in a threadbare scrap of her old boxing wraps — tucked deep in her jacket pocket like a secret.

no one knew. no one would ever know.

but it was there. waiting.

just like she was.

[yuriflavoured]

hi friends!! I finally got around to doing all the suggestions i got, it was so fun!! Also had a little mishap of accidentally deleting all my tumblr blogs including the effort to deleted an unused one so here we are, new account :<

[waynes-multiverse]

I read a little of this on Patreon, but never got to finish it all the way (say hi to my teething toddler 👋), so I'm so excited to dive fully into the big finale! I'm so excited to see what you did with it!! 😍

Just a couple of hours ago, you were a crying mess in this very bed.

Love that you picked this up just a couple of hours later! It's like you're giving us a deleted scene as a bonus with extra insights and we finally get to see what happened and what they talked about 🫶

“Dean, we need to do better,” you say. “From now on, we need to be honest with each other, or we’re not going to get through what comes next. We’re going to keep hurting the people we love, including each other.”

I love that she said this! Shows how much maturity they both have gone through since being those kids that accidentally got pregnant 👌

“All right, here it is,” he says. “After I thought you turned me down the first time, I met Lisa. Sam had mentioned some things that started to turn my head around on how I was living, all the hookups, the boozing, that kind of thing. I knew I’d screwed up with you, not calling you after we had our thing. So, I wanted to see if I could try something steady with someone, you know?” “The more I tried to make it work with Lisa, the harder it was.” He chuckles humorlessly. “Well, that part you know. Looking back, it was probably because I still wanted you. But every time Lisa and I broke up for some stupid shit, I felt like more of a fuckup. And every time I thought of you and me, and what that could be like, I uh…I guess I was afraid of being turned down again. Or worse, afraid of fucking up your life even more.”

Yup, exactly what I always thought. Makes total sense for him, too. (And that he interpret what Sam said completely wrong – he didn't mean pick anyone and settle, ya idjit 😆🙈)

I absolutely love that they had this conversation and were so honest, even with topics that aren't particularly fun for anyone, but they pushed through and grew together here as well 💕

Dean sobers. He knows you’re right, even if he has to stamp out a stab of jealousy. He feels sorry for his friend too…even if part of him selfishly can’t feel that sorry about getting to be with you.

And honestly that's totally fair. I already told you my thoughts on Benny. Still think he should've asked Dean first. It's not entirely Dean's fault that Benny got hurt 🤷‍♀️

You had loved Benny. You still do. But you realize now, only much too late, that you hadn’t been in love with him.

Yup, a very important difference 👆

“So what you’re saying is,” Dean says, his voice deepening like black velvet as he draws closer. “No one makes you come like I do.”

Of course, babe, of course 😂💚

“O-Oh. Really? Buuuut what about Benny?” he asks.

Love that he doesn't ask about Lisa at all lmao

Dean chuckles. “To start with. I’m thinkin’ more like husband and wife.”

I mean, yeah... Wasn't shocked by this statement at all. You already have a kid together and six years worth of drama. You better lock that shit down now lol

…Until Robbie surges forward into his dad’s arms. Dean immediately wraps his arms around his son and soothes a hand over his head.

“Because the moment I met you, I liked what I saw. I just had the bad luck of him getting to you first.”

Yes, we talked about this! 😆 Poor guy had it bad from the start and then *enter Dean* lol

Throughout that whole conversation I was nodding along and going, "Yup, yup, yup" 😂

He shakes his head. “I saw that look again when I went to visit you at the hospital, the day Robbie was born… Come to think of it, this all could’ve ended that day.”

Praise the Lord!!! 🙏

“But I was selfish,” he admits. “I should’ve gone to my friend and knocked some goddamn sense into him, tell him to talk to you if he really wanted you. To be the man you needed him to be. To truly be there for his family. Now, here we are.”

I love you for working this in!!!!

Benny snorts. “Y’all didn’t waste no time.”

Ouch, but yeah 🙈😝

“That might well be,” he says, “but there are some things that are best left put to rest.”

Ooof, but totally understandable, tho. Would've only been awkward as hell for both of them probably. Some things you really can't come back from ❤️‍🩹

She glances at him with a smile. “Andréa.”

Awww, and Benny found his true love as well 😍 I love that you gave him his own ending as well. It's not something that's done a lot for "disposable" side characters, but I'm glad we get to see him find someone too and not disappear off into the background.

She admits to you that she advised Lisa to break things off with Dean more than once in their “five-year rollercoaster.”

Oh, I bet she did 😂 Good on her!

“But Lisa swore that he just needed time. Time to get the hang of balancing his job, Robbie, and his relationship with her. As much as I love Lisa, I just think she didn’t want to see the signs that he wasn’t in love with her. Not enough to make him stay.”

Love that we get an explanation for Lisa's side as well! Totally makes sense for her too. And choosing Eileen as the medium to deliver this message was so clever!!

“Come on, baby. I know you can open wider than that,” he teases.

He is such a fucking menace istg!!! 🤣

For the sake of unfreezing your feet, the white satin and lace of your dress is bunched up high on your thighs, since you’re not quite ready to take it off yet. Dean has his slacks rolled up halfway to his knees while his feet warm up beside yours.

This is so fucking cute! Love this for them!!! 😍🥹💕

Your daughter is born on January 25th at exactly 12:05 A.M.

N'awwww stop it!!! One day after Dean's birthday, too. They're forever gonna be bonded and she'll always be his baby girl and she'll go running around school telling everyon how great her daddy is 😭🥹 And I'm sure Robbie is a total momma's boy deep down (also because they had a lot of bonding time alone). I love this little family. I'm so happy they figured it all out and get to be together 🥰

(He wanted to avoid the clusterfuck of commotion that happened the first time you were in labor. You had wholeheartedly agreed.)

Thank God. Bless them 😂🫶

Sue you if you refuse to name your child after another rocker, no matter how badass Stevie Nicks is. 

Oh, come on!!! Why???? I LOVE Stevie Nicks! I'm with Dean here lmao

Aww, Alex, this was such a great ending for this little family! You tied it all up nicely and even gave Benny and Lisa a happy end (and people they deserved). Well done, friend! This was no easy job. Truly!! 💜👏

PS: I'm slowly working my way through the tbr and haven't forgotten about the others (or your comments on my fics lol). Just wanted to give you my comments on the ones I haven't read yet first 🥰 Hope you're still enjoying your break, friend! You really have been so incredbily busy, so don't overwork yourself 💜😘

IF I STAY - Epilogue

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: By popular demand, I wanted to come back to these two for a hot minute, clear up some loose ends, and answer some questions Part 2 might have left behind for you. 😘

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

Word Count: 6.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Major fluff, some spice, angst, hurt/comfort, family feels

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Epilogue: Soul Surrender

The low familiarity of Arrested Development playing on the TV is the only sound filling your bedroom…other than your giggles. They come out in short bursts even though your body doesn’t stop shaking, twisting away from nimble fingers.

“Dean,” you plead. Your cheeks hurt from laughing but no matter how you try to escape, he follows you. His broad frame and strong arms curl around your waist from behind. His face buries into your neck, and you feel the shape of his smirk there while his fingers slip higher under your shirt and map a constellation across your ribs.

Well, it’s actually his shirt, the white buttoned-down hanging loosely from your frame. It barely covers your ass, and he likes it that way. All the better to tease you with a playful smack of a nice round cheek when the fabric rides up.

Your squeal morphs into more peals of laughter. Involuntary tears well up in your eyes, and one slides down into the pillow underneath your cheek.

“Baby, please—can’t fucking breathe,” you manage to say, panting and wheezing all squeaky-voice.

Finally, his long fingers fall still against your skin. His head perks up, and his smirk softens into a grin.

“Baby?” Dean repeats, quirking a brow at you.

You pause. While you catch your breath, your gaze lowers in an uncertain shade. You shift onto your back, where Dean is only better able to loom above you. Staring up at his handsome face like this still feels a little unreal. Just a couple of hours ago, you were a crying mess in this very bed.

Then there was a knock on your door. When you found Dean standing there looking stressed and desperate, you just couldn’t turn him away; nor could you deny what your heart had been trying to tell you for far too long.

“Uh, sorry, it just came out,” you say with a chuckle.

Before you can ask if it’s too soon for cute pet names, Dean leans down to capture you in a kiss. It’s slow and thorough, sparking a tendril of heat down your spine as his hand slides along your neck, framing your jaw. He thumbs at your chin after he pulls away.

“I like it,” he says. His eyes hold a cheeky gleam.

Your smile gradually reaches beaming proportions. He moves his hand down to your waist, and you squirm a little. You’re still sensitive from how much he teased you before. You grab his hand and bring it back up to your cheek instead.

“You’re more ticklish than Robbie,” Dean remarks. His smirk is back.

“He probably gets it from me,” you confess. Though your hands do some wandering of their own, slipping under the man’s arms and prodding a tuneless sonata along his sides. “But I’m thinking you’re just as bad, tough guy.”

Just as you suspected, Dean flinches and laughs on reflex. “H-Hey! Foul move!”

His deep voice runs higher, full of censure, but it just makes you grin harder. Seeing this big man crumple like a wad of wet paper has you mounting a full-scale attack of revenge. You manage to get Dean twisting over and onto his back, where you take full advantage of his weakness and straddle his lap.

He grabs you by the wrists and pins them together while he pants for breath. You grin down at him victoriously. He chuckles just at that look on your face.

“Think you’ve caught me, huh?” he says.

“I hope so,” you reply.

You soften at your own admission. Dean does too, releasing your wrists so he can get a comfortable hold of your thighs wrapped snug around his hips. You dip down to kiss him just as nice and slow as he treated you, sweet even.

You soon find yourself tumbled down to the bed, rolling to his left side. You huff a laugh at his manhandling, but you let him hold you close and savor the feeling of being here with him. It all happened. It’s still happening. He’s yours.

But…

“What do you think Robbie’s gonna say when we tell him?” Dean asks.

You pull back far enough to see his face, and you stroke his cheek. It’s a little prickly with stubble, but you don’t mind. Actually, the rasp of it against your fingers reminds you of other places it had tingled against your sensitive skin. Your cheeks begin to warm up.

You try to break out of those thoughts, concentrating on answering his question.

“Aw, he’s gonna be happy,” you say. The kid had already been asking the hard questions.

Why aren’t you and Daddy married? Why can’t we all live together? Is Benny gonna move in with us instead?

You do sigh though. “We have to think about how we’re going to tell him. Benny’s been in his life since he was born.”

Dean breathes deeply through his nose, and he nods. He brushes your cheek with the back of his hand, a touch that returns the softer smile to your face.

“Dean, we need to do better,” you say. “From now on, we need to be honest with each other, or we’re not going to get through what comes next. We’re going to keep hurting the people we love, including each other.”

After a beat, he nods solemnly in agreement.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“So,” you grasp his hand in both of yours. You draw enough courage to ask the question that’s been burning in your mind, ever since the haze of fraught emotions, lust, love, and passion began to ebb from the forefront of your mind, calming into a resting state of happiness and content. You stare up into Dean’s eyes.

“You said that you’ve loved me for a long time,” you say. “If that’s true, why were you with Lisa so long? Why didn’t you ever talk to me about this sooner?”

Dean hums low in contemplation, almost a rumble. He squeezes your hand, and he sighs.

“Aw, sweetheart. I was so fuckin’ stupid,” he chuckles half-heartedly. Your lips twitch.

“I was, what, twenty-six when we met?” he says. “You were even younger.”

“Twenty-two,” you supply knowingly. You and Sam had just graduated from college with Eileen and a couple of your friends. Sam had been about to start law school, with you starting at your first elementary school as a first-grade teacher.

“Yeah. In my case, young and dumb,” Dean says, with a shake of his head. He pauses in contemplation. Finally, he finds the courage to meet your eyes.

“All right, here it is,” he says. “After I thought you turned me down the first time, I met Lisa. Sam had mentioned some things that started to turn my head around on how I was living, all the hookups, the boozing, that kind of thing. I knew I’d screwed up with you, not calling you after we had our thing. So, I wanted to see if I could try something steady with someone, you know?”

He takes in a deep breath. “But after you told me you were pregnant, it all just fucking hit me, the way I’d totally changed your life, and mine. I was reckless. It made me want to grow the fuck up, I guess.”

You begin to rub his arm in comfort. “I was there too, you know. It wasn’t all on you.”

He smiles at you a little. You know he sees your point, even if he still feels responsible for knocking you up.

“The more I tried to make it work with Lisa, the harder it was.” He chuckles humorlessly. “Well, that part you know. Looking back, it was probably because I still wanted you. But every time Lisa and I broke up for some stupid shit, I felt like more of a fuckup. And every time I thought of you and me, and what that could be like, I uh…I guess I was afraid of being turned down again. Or worse, afraid of fucking up your life even more.”

Your frown trembles, with the sting of fresh tears in your eyes. Dean gives you a rueful smile.

“Vicious cycle, huh?” he says. “When you got with Benny, I thought I lost my chance for sure. So I guess I just…gave up. Settled for where I was.”

Another sigh falls from your lips, along with a couple of tears that bubble over and slip down your cheeks. You sit up in bed and take Dean’s face into your hands, a gentle hold, but a meaningful one.

“Well, first of all, I want you to understand something right now. I’ve said it before, and I’m going to say it one more time so you don’t forget it.” You look deep into his eyes. “You didn’t screw up my life. I’ve never looked at it that way, and I never will. Our son is best thing that could’ve happened to me, and I’m thinking to you too.”

After a moment, he nods. “Yeah.”

You nod as well. Glad to have that settled, you let go of his face so you can wipe the tear from your cheek.

“The last few years haven’t been perfect for me either,” you say. “But I love you, Dean. I want this to be the real deal, more than anything.”

Dean grabs your hand and gives it a squeeze. He’s tempted to drag you down for a heated kiss and a hell of a lot more—maybe a nice sequel for what you guys did on the couch, and two more times in your bed an hour ago. However, something you said strikes a small bell in his mind.

“You mean to tell me it wasn’t all Brady Bunch with Mr. Rogers?” Dean says, only half joking.

You give him a censuring look. “Hey, Benny doesn’t deserve that. He doesn’t deserve…any of this.”

Dean sobers. He knows you’re right, even if he has to stamp out a stab of jealousy. He feels sorry for his friend too…even if part of him selfishly can’t feel that sorry about getting to be with you.

But you rub at your forehead, a fresh load of guilt dumping over your shoulders. You know you’ll have to talk to Benny too. As incredibly happy as you are right now, you still feel horrible for how this all shook out. You never meant to hurt him or lead him on. From the beginning, you had really appreciated his help so much after Robbie was born.

“In so many ways, he was the kind of man I wanted. Kind, reliable, honest,” you say. Dean sits up with you now against the headboard. He listens intently, no matter how his stomach twists.

It takes you time to find your words, but you begin to explain.

You had loved Benny. You still do. But you realize now, only much too late, that you hadn’t been in love with him.

While your relationship with him had always been supportive and perfectly pleasant, a secret part of you had craved more. He wasn’t one to open up so easily about his day or his work, no matter how much you tried to coax it out of him. In fairness, you know he sees a lot of things on the job that aren't meant for civilian ears, but there are only so many monosyllabic answers you can deal with.

You, on the other hand, are a talker. You always have been. You just got the feeling, sometimes, that Benny was zoning out on you when you tried to connect with him. He even admitted once that you were a bit "too much" for him.

So you talked less. You bottled most of your thoughts inside…until they eventually spilled out with Dean. It’s always been easy to talk to him. On the whole, he’s seemed interested in your stories, even the ones from school. You feel comfortable sharing all the little things about your students that have made him smile, or laugh, or furrow his brows when you admitted your concerns or your fears for them, and especially for Robbie. Even if he was fixing your leaky sink or patching up a hole from when your son attempted some indoor practice with a slingshot made out of Lego and a tube sock, Dean listened.

He understands you. You appreciate that about him.

However, you know that you’ve been unconsciously comparing him and Benny in your mind.

No relationship is perfect, you often tried reminding yourself over the past three years, even through some of the tougher moments.

…Like in the bedroom. Benny was a patient man, and a generous lover. Of course there had been sparks between you two, certainly in the beginning.

However cliché it is though, you’d just never felt…fireworks. Electricity under your skin. The Godfather Thunderbolt kind of sexual connection that sunk into your blood and made your insides quiver.

Kind of like now. You’re blushing down to your neck trying to explain this part of it to Dean. He has a hand resting casually on your thigh, but once he works past his jealousy of even the thought of you and Benny between the sheets, the reality of what you’re saying finally hits him. A smirk slowly grows across his lips.

The way he brushes a thumb back and forth across your sensitive skin—it makes the hair on your arms raise and elicits another tingle down your spine.

“So what you’re saying is,” Dean says, his voice deepening like black velvet as he draws closer. “No one makes you come like I do.”

You snort, biting your lip in blushing embarrassment, as well as the prickle of arousal trembling in your core. Wetness blooms between your legs just at the sound of his voice. You can’t quite bring yourself to answer him, but it doesn’t matter. Your eyes give him all the confirmation he needs.

Dean lures you back into his arms, and into his kiss. He guides you onto your back and blazes a sensuous trail down your body, mapping every lush curve all over again with his mouth, tongue, and fingers, until you’re a writhing mess beneath him.

The next day, Robbie is confused when you and Dean go together to pick him up from your parents’ house. You called them ahead of time for a very important reason.

You sit Robbie down in the living room there in front of your parents, who are trying not to give away the punchline with their smiles (your mom stifling her tears). You take the spot beside him on the couch.

“What’s wrong?” Robbie asks, looking from you to Dean. There’s wariness and confusion in the boy’s eyes, just a couple shades of green off from his father’s. You and Dean share an amused look. The kid is so intuitive.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Dean says. He kneels down in front of him so that he’s eye-level with his son. “You know that your mom and I care about each other, right?”

Robbie quirks his head, but he nods. “Yeah. You’re friends.”

“Well, turns out…” Dean shares another look with you, this time a gentler smile as he takes your hand in his. “We realized that we want to be more than just friends.”

Robbie blinks a few times. He takes the information in faster than you would expect for a six-year-old, giving you his furrowed brows of confusion, suspicion…and hope?

“O-Oh. Really? Buuuut what about Benny?” he asks.

Again, smart kid. Dean looks over to you for guidance on this one.

You proverbially step in with a hand on Robbie’s shoulder. You take a steadying breath, but you explain in terms you know he’ll understand.

“I know how much you love Benny. I care about him too. I care about him a lot, actually…but he just wasn’t the guy for me,” you admit. You glance over at Dean, squeezing his hand. “Your dad is the guy.”

Robbie sits with his hands in his lap and visibly processes, his little face scrunched in thought. You don’t blame him for being confused, but you remain patient, softly smiling while you rub his back. You give Dean a guiding look, warning him with your eyes to wait for Robbie to ask whatever question he has next. You can see it brewing.

“Wait, so you guys like each other?” Robbie asks. “Like, like boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Dean chuckles. “To start with. I’m thinkin’ more like husband and wife.”

Your face falls into shock. Dean bites the inside of his lip. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but it’s already out of his mouth. Can’t put that toothpaste back in the tube, can I?

Robbie gapes at his dad, and then his mom. He looks at your joined hands.

Uh oh, Dean thinks. Did we break him?

Suddenly, Robbie’s lower lip wobbles, and he starts to cry. Your eyes widen further in surprise, and now dismay along with Dean.

…Until Robbie surges forward into his dad’s arms. Dean immediately wraps his arms around his son and soothes a hand over his head.

“What’s the matter, buddy? What’s wrong?” he asks.

Robbie sniffs. “Does this mean you’re gonna come live with us?”

Dean’s worry breaks—into abject relief. He smiles. When he looks up, he finds you smiling in relief as well, albeit with tears in your eyes. He holds Robbie closer and presses a kiss on the top of his head.

“You want that, huh?” Dean asks. “Want me to come live with you guys?”

Robbie nods, burying his face in Dean’s shirt. But there’s no hiding the way his little body shakes with quiet sobs. Dean’s own eyes are suspiciously glassy, even though he smirks at the way your lower lip wobbles too. He beckons you over with a hand.

You slip off the couch and kneel on the floor too, allowing yourself to get pulled under Dean’s arm. You rest your cheek against his shoulder and bury your weeping face into his neck. This moment is everything—everything you could’ve asked for.

Your parents come around the couch as well, with your mom lovingly squeezing your shoulders and your dad resting a fatherly hand on Dean’s.

Dean can’t help but smile, so hard that it nearly cracks his face. He didn’t think his heart could ever be this full.

Well. For once, that went better than I thought.

You tap your fingers around the wide cappuccino mug nervously. You sit in what you think is the most secluded corner of the café, a strategic choice. Your eyes flit to the door again when it jingles open, but it’s just a young blonde woman with a little Pomeranian tucked under her arm. She makes her way to the barista and places her order of a lavender matcha latte and an unglazed donut.

An unglazed donut? What’s the point? you think.

You shake your head and force yourself to expel a deep breath. You wish you could’ve done this over a week ago, but you respected Benny’s wishes. He’d needed more time, and really, that was the least you could do.

A few minutes later, the little bell above the door chimes again. The familiar footfalls of heavy boots alert you to the even more familiar black jacket and jeans combo. Benny comes into view, his eyes finding you across the room in mere seconds. His face remains stoic as he approaches you.

Even now, you have no idea what he’s thinking. Is he going to be icy toward you and not say a word? Is he going to shout at you, berate you, accuse you of wasting three whole years of his life? You would probably just sit here and take it, whatever it would be. You feel like you deserve it.

Instead, he just lowers into the chair opposite you at the table. He takes a breath and rests his elbows on the table. For a moment, he just stares back at you and takes you in, from your face, lightly done with makeup, to your pretty blouse, jeans, and ankle boots.

“You look good,” he says, his tone rueful. “You don’t gotta be scared though. Not like I’m gonna start cussin’ you out in front God and everybody.”

Your lips hint at a smile. His dry brand of humor briefly lightens you.

“You know me. Overthinking is my thing,” you say. Biting your lip, your gaze lowers to the way you toy with your fingers in your lap. “Look, Benny. I wouldn’t blame you for being angry with me. You can even hate me if you want.”

Benny crosses his arms on the table, contemplating. He eventually gives 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.”

He shakes his head, and he sighs.

“Truth is, Dean and I think a lot alike,” he says. His blue-eyed gaze meets yours. “Because the moment I met you, I liked what I saw. I just had the bad luck of him getting to you first.”

Your face burns with a blush. Once again, you bite your lip.

Benny huffs a wry chuckle. “This week, I’ve been thinking…maybe I shoulda seen this coming.”

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Believe it or not, I noticed things. Things, I didn’t want to at the time,” he says. His eyes fall away from you after a moment. “You remember when you were pregnant with Robbie, and you came to the firehouse with some cookies for everybody?”

You blink at that. “Yeah, sure.”

That was the day you thought that…well, you got a hint that Benny might like you. You’d dismissed it at the time because you were so damn pregnant, waddling and sliding around like a parade float. You had wanted to test out your latest recipe of chocolate chip cookies on Dean, and the rest of the guys at the firehouse.

“Well, I knew you went there looking for Dean,” Benny says. “I saw the way your eyes lit up when he finally came by. And I saw the look on his face when he saw it was you and me together, laughin’, havin’ a good time.”

He shakes his head. “I saw that look again when I went to visit you at the hospital, the day Robbie was born… Come to think of it, this all could’ve ended that day.”

You leaned forward in your seat, now hooked on his every word. A frown pulls at your lips, while a wry one tugs at his.

“If a man wants something, he fights for it. That’s something I’ve learned, what I’ve always known to be true,” Benny says. “I thought I’d lost my chance with you before then. But when you told me you were afraid of being alone, and I saw the way Dean was all wrapped up with Lisa…I thought, shit, I could be the man you leaned on. Why not me?”

The man pauses, as if sorting back through the catalogue of memories, feelings, thoughts. He meets your sad gaze.

“But I was selfish,” he admits. “I should’ve gone to my friend and knocked some goddamn sense into him, tell him to talk to you if he really wanted you. To be the man you needed him to be. To truly be there for his family. Now, here we are.”

You fold your hands in front of your lips as you process all of this, trying to figure out what to think, let alone what to say. You do know that this is the most you’ve ever seen Benny open up.

“So if I blame you, ‘cher, I gotta blame myself just as much. At this point, all we can do is move on,” Benny says. He becomes contemplative, rubbing his bearded chin. “I gotta ask though. How’s Robbie doin’ with all of this?”

You brush a couple of tears away from your cheeks, swiping under your eyes for good measure. God, when will I be done with all this damn crying? But you take a sip of your coffee just for something to delay your answer. You knew the question would come eventually, but it still hurts you, knowing it’ll probably hurt the man in front of you.

“He misses you,” you say.

And it’s true. Your son loves Benny too—a strong, solid presence in his life since the beginning.

“You’ve told him…everything?” Benny asks. “About you and Dean too?”

You nod. “We told him last weekend.”

Benny snorts. “Y’all didn’t waste no time.”

“We didn’t want to keep it a secret. I think that would’ve been worse.”

“Nah, I get it,” he says. He drums his fingers on the table in contemplation. After a while, his blue eyes meet yours. “The kid’s happy though, isn’t he?”

You nod, giving him an honest answer. Dean is already living with you. He’s just in the process of moving his stuff out of his and Lisa’s apartment. She’s going to finish off the lease in a few months, then move out of there herself.

However, through all of the adult chaos and logistics, Robbie is all beaming smiles and excited chatter when his dad comes home. The three of you eat dinner as a family. You and Dean get to tuck in your son together at night, and wake up together the next day, sharing more than just a bed and a morning cup of coffee.

“He is,” you say. “But look, you can come by and see him, if you want to.”

“I’d like that,” Benny nods. “Just to say goodbye.”

“It doesn’t have to be forever,” you say. Once again, guilt threatens to eat you alive. “You and Dean were friends long before I came into the picture.”

Benny’s lips hint at a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“That might well be,” he says, “but there are some things that are best left put to rest.”

You know then that he means more than just your relationship.

After a beat, he stands from the table. You attempt to take in a steadying breath as you get to your feet along with him.

“I’m sorry,” you say again.

“Me too, sweetheart,” Benny says. He takes your hand and gives it one final squeeze. Neither of you say goodbye.

It may not be the last time you see each other. It’s a small town, after all. But there’s a good chance that this will be the last time you and Benny will speak for a good long while.

A few weeks later, Benny’s cart crashes into something solid in the spirits aisle of the grocery store—another cart.

That bumps into a young woman’s ass, making her yelp as she loses her balance. The merlot she was considering slips out of her hand and shatters in a plummy spill across the linoleum.

“Aw shit,” she grouses. Her head swivels over her shoulder to find a wide-eyed Benny with a glare. “Bro! Are you serious?”

He snaps out of his reverie and immediately goes over to try and help. He pushes his own cart away goes over to her, mindful of the glass under his boots.

“I’m sorry, 'cher. My bad,” he says, reaching out a hand to her. Shards of glass surrounds her in her heeled wedges. They go nicely with her blue slacks and crème-colored blazer…which is now flecked with wine.

She accepts his helping hand, albeit with a raised brow. “Cher? What, the 'do believe in life after love' lady?”

Benny pauses, but embarrassment isn’t the only thing that makes him falter. He can’t help but notice her smooth, bronze skin, her hazel eyes, her shiny brown hair coiled in a soft wave. She’s beautiful. Her clothes are expensive. She’s entirely out of his league.

“Uh, no, ma'am. Just a token of where I’m from,” Benny says. He gestures to the spill at their feet while she manages to step away from it. “Here, I’ll pay for that bottle, plus another one for you.”

Her lips twitch upward. Cocking her head, she turns and points at the price tag under the bottle she’d grabbed up.

“You wanna buy me a $50 bottle of wine?” she says. Plus the one he spilled.

Benny smiles. “And dinner to go along with it, if you want.”

She blinks, her mouth parting in surprise. But he finally wins her smile too. She takes a $15 bottle off the shelf instead.

“Believe me, this one’s better,” she says. “Where are you from, exactly?”

“Louisiana,” Benny replies.

“Hmm, interesting,” she says.

He arches a curious brow. “You?”

Her eyes take on a playful gleam. “Greece. Yes, I’m new in town. Yes, there’s a semi-interesting story behind it. We’ll save that for dinner though.”

Benny chuckles. “Well, all right.”

When a grocery store employee comes over to assess the damage, Benny promises that he’ll cover it. He and the young woman make their way to the checkout together with their carts.

“So, uh, what’s your name?” Benny asks.

She glances at him with a smile. “Andréa.”

Six months later, Eileen tearfully accepts being your Maid of Honor. You go about asking her cautiously, knowing Lisa is still her best friend. Eileen is gracious though. She admits to you that she advised Lisa to break things off with Dean more than once in their “five-year rollercoaster.”

“She just had an idea of what she wanted for her life, you know? And she’s stubborn about it. She thought Dean was the One,” Eileen tells you that afternoon. You two sip from your wine glasses on her sofa while Robbie and his three-year-old cousin are with Sam and Dean, out at a baseball game.

“I told her that Dean seemed…well, divided. At least when it came to her,” she says. “But Lisa swore that he just needed time. Time to get the hang of balancing his job, Robbie, and his relationship with her. As much as I love Lisa, I just think she didn’t want to see the signs that he wasn’t in love with her. Not enough to make him stay.”

You feel conflicted for more than one reason. On one hand, you do feel sorry for Lisa. On the other hand, you wish she would’ve just let Dean go after the first time they had that blowout argument that got them kicked out of the local Denny’s.

You hesitate before you ask, “How is she doing?”

Eileen smiles, and she signs as she speaks, knowing you’ve been practicing your ASL.

“She’s good actually. She met a guy at a yoga retreat out in Sacramento. She’s moving there in the fall. Not really for him, but because she wants a fresh start.”

“I could see that,” you nod. It’s hard to move on with your life in a small town like Lawrence, Kansas, where everybody knows your business. You’re honest when you say, “I hope she finds what she’s looking for.”

Eileen nods in agreement. Then, her eyes shift with a conspiring gleam.

“So, did you hear about Benny?”

Your eyes widen. “No, what? Is he okay?”

“Oh, I can’t believe you don’t know.”

“Girl, what?!”

“He eloped with that girl from Greece. Sam told me. They’re on a plane right now, headed to meet her family in Kalamata!”

You gasp, covering your mouth with both hands. You laugh, mostly out of shock. Eileen laughs just at the look on your face. The two of you giggle and finish your gossip along with a bottle of wine.

You’ve never met Benny’s girlfriend…excuse you, wife. Your shock turns into concern, just for a hot minute. But the more you think about it, you know that the man isn’t impulsive. It’s not in his blood. So you also have to believe that he hasn’t made this decision lightly.

From the bottom of your heart, you’re happy for him.

You almost choke on a laugh when Dean doesn’t quite get the whole chunk of complimentary chocolate into your mouth.

“Come on, baby. I know you can open wider than that,” he teases.

You laugh harder, covering your mouth so you don’t drop anything. You have to set down your champagne glass on the edge of the tub, however precarious that might be.

“Babe, if you make me get anything on this dress, I may just have to kill you,” you say. Though your threat doesn’t have much effect with your shoulders shaking with laughter.  

You wiggle your toes in the hot water that’s risen up to your ankles in the tub while you and Dean sit on the edge. You’re severely regretting having a winter wedding, or at least just the part where you had to trudge through the snow on the way to your husband’s ’67 Chevy. Thank God it had just been a few minutes to the hotel.

For the sake of unfreezing your feet, the white satin and lace of your dress is bunched up high on your thighs, since you’re not quite ready to take it off yet. Dean has his slacks rolled up halfway to his knees while his feet warm up beside yours.

He looks edible himself. His suit jacket lies strewn across the edge of the king-sized bed, leaving his white dress shirt rolled up to the elbows. His tie is gone too, leaving quite a few buttons by his collar left open, and a tantalizing strip of tanned skin visible to your wandering eyes.

“What does it matter? Are you really ever gonna wear this again?” he says as he fingers the soft hem of your skirt. He then brushes the back of his hand against your arm, your shoulder, your cheek. You smile and lean into his hand.

“’Course I am. Whenever I wanna feel all pretty and bride-like,” you say.

Dean’s smile crinkles the corner of his eyes. He cups your cheek and brings you closer, but he stops just shy of your lips.

“Well, for one thing, you’re already beautiful. Two, you’re always gonna be my bride.” He punctuates that uncharacteristic cheesiness with a kiss that warms you down to your toes. You grab ahold of his collar and breathe into it, humming softly.

You part from him, just to tell him something that’s been burning on your heart.

“Can you promise me something?”

His thumb brushes against your lower lip, flashing you a little smirk. “Depends.”

Your lips press together, but you can’t help the smile trying to break through. You catch each button on his shirt with your nails to undo the rest of them, one by one.

“No matter what comes next, whatever arguments, fights, drama, all of it, promise me that you’ll remember right now. Tonight,” you say. “Remember that you’re my best friend. My love. The father of my kid. None of that ever changes.”

Dean pulls you in even closer by your waist. His long fingers run along the small round buttons lacing down your spine. Already he’s calculating how he’s going to pop every one of them open without ruining your pretty dress.

“It’s a promise, sweetheart,” he says. And just like the vows he made in that chapel, he means these words with every conviction. “None of it ever changes.”

Well, there are some things that change. They have to, after all.

One of the biggest ones happens almost a year to the day after your winter wedding. Your daughter is born on January 25th at exactly 12:05 A.M.

Dean calls her the best belated birthday present he’s ever gotten.

He wipes at his watery eyes when his brother steps into the hospital room, where only Dean and your mom had been allowed in during the delivery. (He wanted to avoid the clusterfuck of commotion that happened the first time you were in labor. You had wholeheartedly agreed.)

While Eileen stays behind for now with their son, Sam guides Robbie inside by his shoulders. The kid had been ambivalent about the new arrival when you and Dean first told him you were going to have another baby, but in the nine-ish months since, the eight-year-old has begun to come around to the idea of having a little sister. He approaches your bedside, encouraged by your tired smile.

“Hey, baby. Meet the baby,” you joke.

Dean welcomes Robbie over with a hand on his shoulder, squeezing warmly. Robbie hesitates, but he leans up on his toes to peer at the bundle wrapped in your arms. He considers her little face peeking out of the downy crème blanket. She wears a little pink cap to keep her newborn head warm.

“She’s beautiful,” Sam says, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“She’s so tiny,” Robbie says. 

“You were just like that,” Dean says, “’til you sprouted up outta the ground like a stalk a’ wheat.”

Robbie gives his father an indignant look. “I didn’t pop outta the ground!”

You shush him softly, despite your shoulders shaking with laughter. Sam thumps his older brother’s back. The two share a look that’s suspiciously shiny, full of nostalgia.

Dean soothes a hand over Robbie’s head.

“You’re a big brother now, son,” he says. “It’s a big responsibility. Think you can handle it?”

Robbie looks a little uncertain. His gaze leaves his dad and falls on the baby. The more he stares at her peaceful sleeping face, the more she looks kinda cute to him. He smiles.

“Yeah,” he says.

He reaches out and gently touches her cheek. Her skin is soft and delicate. His fingertips are slow and careful.

You and Dean glance at one another. Your eyes blur over with tears, but your husband is there to lean in and press a kiss to your forehead.

“We still gotta decide on a name,” he whispers.

That, you know. It hasn’t been any easier picking your daughter’s name than it was your son. Sue you if you refuse to name your child after another rocker, no matter how badass Stevie Nicks is. 

You bite your lip, leaning your head on Dean’s shoulder as a giddy laugh pours out of you.

“Game on, baby.”

AN: And there we have it! We went a little deeper into some things that were implied and touched on in Part 2, but hopefully it feels like a more complete ending to this version of Dean and the reader's story, along with everyone else in between! ❤️❤️‍🔥❤️

In a couple of weeks, for those of you who read Smoke Eater, there will be a little sequel drabble that sees that version of firefighter!Dean getting another big piece of his dream...

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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Dean Winchester Tag List (Part 1):

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

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl @kaleldobrev

@globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78

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

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

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

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

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

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

@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005 @redhoodieone

[altsunthinkable]

So I was telling my mother (who watches 911 but like in a normal general audience way) about the whole alive Bobby theory today. And in running it down for her, I finally settled on the things that make me most lean towards believing it.

1. Oliver sharing the "buried alive" script page. Now, I actually do think the script page was fake and posted as an April Fools joke (particularly because JLH also posted it but it wasn't legible enough so then Oliver did it too). BUT given that Oliver is aware how fans scrutinize his social media activities and he has outright said he didn't want fans to feel mislead if he "liked" Buddie stuff so he wasn't going to do it anymore... would he really go along with a joke saying Bobby was alive if that isn't going to end up being the case? It wouldn't seem to fit with the care he's shown towards fans' expectations in the past.

2. Oliver's post about Peter saying "we miss you at work with us every day" when we know for a fact he's been on set pretty much this whole time. Not "we will miss you." But something we know to actually be false because he hasn't been missing yet.

3. Oliver sharing then deleting the two photos of Brad Torrence just hours after the funeral scenes were shot downtown. It wasn't just one photo which could have been an accidental "oops I didn't mean to tap that one" share. It was two separate photos. We all thought it was odd at the time and wondered what it was about. But then someone (I'm sorry I don't remember who) pointed out what the suicidal Hotshots fan said in 8x08: "You're my comfort captain... You're killing off Captain Banner? You can't! ... Do you realize how many people would be devastated if you did that?" Brad dismisses it as 2 days on TMZ tops. The fan then quotes the inspirational speech from the end of Hotshots season 2 word for word and reiterates: "You can't kill off Captain Banner. He's what keeps the 119 fire family together."* And Brad decides he'll agree to have Banner live. And we see for a fact that he goes through with it.

4. Angela Bassett saying she found out when she got the script when Tim Minear said in an inteview that he called each cast member and told them, giving details about how they reacted (that it took 15 minutes to convince Aisha he wasn't joking).

5. Ryan not doing a goodbye post directed to Peter at all. Not even a photo of the two of them together. Just sharing a silly fan edit of Bobby with a pink bow on his head.

Those are the main offscreen things that have me 🤔🤨. On screen see also:

1. Chekov's rat. Why make a point of showing Chimney bringing it out of the lab when they didn't even acknowledge its existence while they were inside? And we had that post-episode still showing someone taking the rat away from Chim while he's in quarantine. That got cut from the episode but was apparently important enough to write and to shoot.

2. The awkward and otherwise unnecessary cut from Chimney on the phone with Maddie saying "he knew" to the 4 nameless faceless people in hazmat suits caring out the already closed body bag before panning to Bobby's helmet on the floor. It's awkward AF. If they wanted the helmet shot for emotional punch they could have gone just to it. Or panned across some of the blood Bobby had coughed up on the floor and then settled on the helmet. Or maybe even from Bobby's boots and legs from where he died knelt at that table to his helmet. The shot of the body bag being carried out by unknown people was completely out of place. Unless it's important that we know that.

3. The choice of Work Song. We know this show loves itself some on the nose musical choices. "No grave can hold my body down. I'll crawl home to her." There so many songs about death and loss they could have used to just as poignant an end. But this is what they picked.

---

*Tim has cited the Captain Banner stuff in interviews saying it was him choreographing his intentions to kill Bobby. But given Oliver's choice to share those pics when it was already clear fans had figured it out it was Bobby's funeral being filmed, I can just as easily see it being Tim feeling incredibly pleased with himself and clever that he told us exactly what was going to happen - Captain Banner Nash is going to live! My bet is he probably was bummed out some fans were on to him so quickly so he decided to mention it to try to again say "see, he's dead!" Ala "the body bag didn't convince you?" Which is also weird thing to say if that shot doesn't end up being important...

[aouiaa]

EIGHTEEN PLUS & WARNINGS ; Mentions of sexual conduct. AUTHOR’S NOTE ; Posting to stay relevant and to get this shit out my drafts 🫤 — creds to @/eStarwzt on pin <3

Imagining Loser!Ellie who’s conversations go like this with you.

Ellie being… Ellie, yeah.

Imagining Loser!Ellie who keeps you up at night just to tell you about her new hyper fixation, “Fallout Shelter.”

Bonus messages that remind me of Loser!Ellie.

TAGLIST ; @dyk3ang3l, @elliesprettygirl, @les4elliewilliams, @ellies2fingers, @r3starttt, @slut4mascss, @marsworlddd, @bready101, @abbysleftbicepp, @airenaa, @caraphernellie, @astralnymphh, @whore87, @blues-clues2, @kaiilectric, @sapphicontherun, @mikellie, @nihilisticangelbby

[aifoemo]

He of Havoc

[commsroom]

Okay! Obviously, I love Wolf 359. The available scripts for Wolf 359 are recording scripts, meaning they're inaccurate in a ton of places when it comes to finalized or improvised dialogue, and don't function well as transcripts (especially since the scripts for the live show and some of the mini episodes were never made available.) That said, I think everyone should read the scripts; the sheer amount of physical description that you can feel in the show, even if you can't see it... I guarantee it will enhance your listening experience. Most visual show to ever be an audio drama. So, in pursuit of both of these goals at once, I went over every word in the scripts, and wrote up new scripts for the unavailable ones. Some of the sound effects described - especially in early episodes - might not line up exactly, because I didn't want to mess with the non-dialogue portion of the show, but I hope this strikes a good balance and can be a useful resource.

[sergle]

talking about the topic of animated movies not Hitting, I accidentally reminded myself of one time on twitter, I think around the time that Raya came out?? I was poopooing on how much the dragon looks like elsa, and then talked about how I wish 2d animated and hand animated films were still The Medium instead of nothing but the highest resolution skin texture fur textured 3d animated films bc I'm tired of seeing it, etc etc and then someone who I was not mutuals with, they must've been someone working under the disney IP in some form, and must've either done some work on raya or just worked on 3d animated projects in general, replied to me SEVERAL TIMES as if I was subtweeting them, with something to the tone of "just say you hate me and you think my art is trash" and I think about that ALL the time

[writingsbymo-mo]

Random thoughts........buuuuut.....

Don't Wake the Beast

What if Rindou was hosting a party and you got dared to wake Ran up?

When someone dared you to wake Ran up, Rindou gave you a worried look. He didn't want to relive the last party he held. You weren't ready for another penalty shot just yet, and honestly, you've wanted to see what would happen if you woke up the beast in the other room.

You tiptoed over to Ran's bedroom, closing the door behind you, not even uttering a sound. Quietly, you snuck over to his sleeping form. He looked so peaceful. The way his lashes contrasted against his skin in the moonlight, the way his soft snores filled the silent space, the way you couldn't help but notice his plush lips with every breath. You leaned closer to him, almost a mere inch from his face when you paused. "I...shouldn't do this...maybe another way," you mouthed a whisper.

As soon as you were about to move away, a set of hands caressed your cheeks and pulled you against his warm, soft lips, devouring you with the hunger of a starving man. You squeaked and moaned into him, pulling him closer to you by the collar of his shirt as you fought for dominance. You melted into his touches, shifting onto his bed to sit in his lap, grinding into him. Ran slid his hands along your sides, gasping when you hit the right spot. A string of saliva connecting your lips as it snapped when you moved your head, gazing at the man you woke up with half lidded eyes.

"Hah, did the prince come give the princess a kiss?" He purred, sneaking some kisses along your jaw.

"More like the dragon stole it...you were already awake, weren't you?"

He chuckled into your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "You know Rin's parties are never quiet..."

"True..."

"Just know if it weren't for you coming when you did, their sorry asses wouldn't dare step foot in here."

You laughed, "looks like I saved this party."

He rolls you onto your back, chuckling as you squeak in surprise. "Oh, but our night is just getting started, love."

--------------------‐‐

Meanwhile...

"Should we go check on them?"

Rindou shook his head. "I wouldn't if I were you. With how long it's been...they'll be in there for the rest of the night..."

[maslosstuff]

The recurring characters of Macchio Falls! There are more to come in the future

Information about each character is below

Bash Johnson (Junior)- The high school quarter back and stereotypical school bully. He keeps those lesser than him under his thumb; even bullying teachers to give him an A+. There’s nobody he hates more than the ninja, he vows vengeance from the ninja for stealing his spotlight

Morgan Kranski (Junior)- The Deputy Mayor’s vain and spoiled daughter. She can destroy a girl’s spirit with just her words alone. Morgan wants nothing but to dethrone Heidi as head cheerleader, often teaming up with Bash to achieve her goals. She doesn’t have a problem with Howard

Bucky Hensletter (Freshman)- A clarinet playing dork who often meets the misfortune of being Bash number 1 target. Bucky loves to create symphonies with his talent but he often backs out of publishing his work.

Julian Fowler (Sophomore)- Older cousin of Theresa (by a month) Julian always looks for the positive of a bad situation, he may be not that bright but he makes up for it by rocking out

Theresa Fowler (Junior)- An outgoing and trendy stylist, she loves to try new things whether it be on her body or an extreme sport. Whenever Randy is feeling down or needs a new haircut she’s your girl! She doesn’t attend Macchio high

Pradeep Channa (Sophomore)- Former student at Flackville High, Pradeep is gifted in the field of science and astronomy. He’s often paired with Howard on class projects (This always makes Randy jealous)

Chen kang- Snappy and straightforward. Chen always gets to the point, wasting no time for arguments as even if she’s wrong she’s right. As an photographer, Chen is determined to picture everyone at Macchio High, being obsessed with getting a picture of the Ninja. As every year the Ninja is listed in the “Not Pictured” section of the yearbook. Her parents own the best beauty shop in town (the only one) “You’ve Got Nails Salon

"Stevens" Stephen Richards (Junior)- An outgoing, talkative chill guy. Stevens is always looking for a good time to party and flirt with girls. He isn't without his generosity always helping the little guy, he's deeply ashamed of his academic achievements as he pretends to be stupid. His prestigious parents are unaware of his tomcat endeavors

Susan Thermopolis (Sophomore)- Sarcastic and stern. As student council president she takes her job seriously and those in her inner circle describe her as bossy. She is assertive and outspoken, often sharing her opinions freely. She used to play the flute as a freshman

Raquel Antfee (Freshman)- Sweet and bubbly, yet slightly airheaded. Raquel loves cute things and doesn’t take no for an answer. Whenever someone is in need (whether they like it or not) she on the case. Despite her kindness she has a competitive edge and feels lonely.

David López (Senior)- A man a few words but overall a chill guy despite his peers. He doesn’t take pleasure in bullying others and would help the unfortunate. He’s also a massive musical theatre fan, he shares this interest with Juggo.

“Juggo” Jeremiah Marceau (Freshman)- A silent exchange student from France whos passionate about silent films and the art of mimicry. He loves to tell jokes but no one can understand his silent humor.

[buttered-toasty]

Forging of the Ring/The Proposal/Reflections of Self

.

.

Till death do us part? You’re not getting out of this that easily.

And with that I think I’m done with my little marriage series (as I have been calling my bigger Sauron pieces)! I will post them all together sometime. Happy Halloween and remember not to separate out parts of your soul for the making of cursed jewelry!

Bonus thing with some extra portraiture under the cut, idk