#and heres the thing nothing that wild happens

[zhelin-thames]

Buuce meets his doppelganger

@egyptianghosts thx for sending me this

Bruce Wayne had learned, over the years, that strange things happened when he least expected them. He could be on a mission, on patrol, or—as was currently the case—simply trying to enjoy an uneventful father-son outing with Damian.

Dick had insisted they take a short trip out of Gotham for some bonding time, and Bruce, against his usual instincts, had relented. A quiet festival in Pennsylvania sounded like an ideal setting for something normal.

He should’ve known better.

“Dad!”

Bruce turned sharply at the call, instincts flaring at the urgency in the voice. It belonged to a teenager, maybe thirteen or fourteen, jogging towards him and Damian with an exasperated yet casual expression.

Beside him, Damian tensed, his scowl deepening as the boy stopped in front of them.

“Geez, I turn around for a second and you disappear. Now who’s the ghost, huh?” the boy snarked.

Bruce blinked, thrown off by the casual tone directed at him. But before he could speak, the boy’s attention had already shifted to Damian, his expression shifting to concern.

“You okay? Got separated from your people?”

Damian bristled, arms crossing. “My father is right here, you idiot.”

“Damian,” Bruce warned.

The boy’s brow furrowed in confusion before he looked up at Bruce again, eyes searching. A few long, awkward seconds passed before his eyes widened in realization.

“Oh, yeah, you’re not my dad.”

Bruce gave an awkward smile, already scanning the area for any frantic parents looking for their missing child. The kid seemed unfazed, as if this kind of situation wasn’t all that unusual for him.

“Sorry about that,” the boy said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You just look a lot like my dad. Like, you could be twins.”

“Is that right?” Bruce asked carefully.

“Yeah, except he’d never wear a turtleneck,” the boy said, wrinkling his nose. “And he might be a little taller.”

Bruce blinked. “What’s wrong with turtlenecks?”

The boy simply raised an eyebrow, the silent judgment hitting harder than Bruce cared to admit.

Damian, still irritated, interjected, “Since you’ve determined that this is my father and not yours, should you not be looking for him?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” the boy said, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. He turned toward the crowd, took a deep breath, and shouted at the top of his lungs, “GHOST!!”

Several people in the vicinity recoiled, alarmed.

A commotion erupted just to their left, and before Bruce could react, a large man barreled through the crowd like a freight train.

“Where?!” the man bellowed, eyes wild.

“Dad!” the boy called back cheerfully.

The massive man instantly switched from battle-ready to downright giddy.

“Dann-o!” he beamed, scooping up the teen like he weighed nothing. The boy—Danny, apparently—grinned as his father lifted him in a brief, crushing hug before setting him down.

Then Danny turned and pointed directly at Bruce.

“I found your doppelgänger!”

Jack Fenton, as Bruce would later learn his name to be, gasped in delight. “Holy fudge, you’re right! Maddie’s gonna flip!”

Bruce Wayne, seasoned crime-fighter and master of composure, suddenly wished he were anywhere else.

Damian made a disgusted noise beside him. “Surely you cannot be related to this fool.”

Danny grinned. “Oh, I definitely am.” He turned to Jack. “Where’s Mom?”

Jack looked around, rubbing his chin. “Hmm. She was at the fudge stand last I saw her—oh! There she is!”

Bruce followed Jack’s pointing finger to see a woman in a blue jumpsuit, looking at the scene with exasperation. She had sharp, intelligent eyes that immediately landed on Bruce, narrowing in suspicion.

“Oh my stars,” she muttered as she approached. “Jack, tell me you didn’t start a scene.”

Jack grinned sheepishly. “It wasn’t me this time, honey! Danny mistook this fella for me!”

Maddie Fenton gave Bruce an appraising look, arms crossing. “Well, he does look like you. But in a ‘billionaire with questionable taste in turtlenecks’ kind of way.”

Danny snickered. Bruce resisted the urge to sigh.

“I assure you, I am not your husband’s long-lost twin,” Bruce said dryly. “I was simply trying to enjoy the festival with my son.”

Maddie’s gaze flickered to Damian, then softened slightly. “Well, sorry for the mix-up.” Then, turning to Danny, she added, “And you! Stop shouting ‘ghost’ in public, you know better.”

Danny pouted. “But it works every time.”

Damian huffed. “It’s a miracle you’ve survived this long.”

Jack clapped a hand on Bruce’s shoulder before he could step back. “Well, look on the bright side! Now you’ve got an emergency decoy in case you ever need one! We should take a picture!”

Bruce was already regretting coming to Pennsylvania.

Helloooooo, I know I've been gone for a while, but now I'm back—kind of. I'm a bit busy with classes, assignments, and graduation is coming up, so I have a lot on my schedule. Buttt I'll try my best to most more.

[zepskies]

Aww yay!! Thank you so much, lovely. 🥹💕 Please don't apologize, I love it!! 😍

I wish he was real at least once a day, I wanna give him a bunch of little kisses all over his face so bad 😩💗

God, right??! 😩 I'd smother him with affection lmao. 💋

I loveee this. <33 honestly the concept of traditional bachelor/bachelorette parties make zero sense to me, like wdym last night of freedom??? i'd simply cancel the wedding, go be free lmaoo 🙂‍↔️🤚🏽

Girl I'm with you!! If you're in a relationship about to get married, what is this "freedom??" 🥴🥴 I feel like Sam would think the same way lol.

ohhh I felt this to my coreeeee 😭 ( those 'fake nice' mean girls are the worst like it gets to a point you'd just prefer them to be straight up lol)

Exaaaaaclty! 😫 You know who I'm talking about here. lol I think we've all encountered those "fake nice" mean girls at some point.

now I understand that this is probably a wild thing to highlight, however, it's making me giggle so bad after knowing how the rest of the chapter goes 🤣 his intuition is on point lmfaooo with that being said, I truly adore their connection. 💓 it's so genuine and comfortable <33 and that spiceeee, it had me blushing ❤️‍🔥🫠 so good 🫶🏽

Ahahaa I'm actually glad you highlighted that part because that's exactly what that was -> foreshadowing for things to...er...come. 😝

Aww I'm so happy you're enjoying their connection so far! Even though it's a one-night stand, it is coming from a genuine place. Glad you liked the sexy stuff to go along with it too. 😘❤️‍🔥

you tell him sammy !! I completely understand focusing on training but a simple text message could have sufficed dean ._.

Right?! Sam's the voice of reason as always lol, while Dean's a bit of a hot mess in this story. 😆

I understand why she did this but still, aagh ☹️ my hopeless hearttt lol

I knowwwww - she did that thing of "let me just lie a bit so I can save some face with this man and not let him know that I was actually really into him and don't just wanna be his fuck buddy." While Dean is just as frustrating, not being clear that he's asking her out on a date, not a hookup lol.

deeeep sigh 😔 (nothing against canon lisa lol)

Ahahaa yep this Lisa is not exactly canon Lisa, I'll say that. 😅

And Dean Dean Dean...

considering the lovely story banner I should have guessed, but this really did surprise me somehow lollll 😭 (perhaps the gif distracted me 🤣)

Hahaaa honestly I love that you were still surprised!! 😜 (It's ok, that gif had me hypnotized sometimes when I was making the header lol)

aww sammy 🥺 he's such a sweetheart, I love him. also I can totally picture that 💀

Sam's a real sweetie for sure. 🥹 You already know he'd give Dean hell if he didn't promise to help her and be there for his baby. 💗💗

~Bitch Face Activated~

lmfaoooooo dean pls 🤣 gotta love that sibling analysis

ahaha thank you for highlighting that line because that was one of my favorites for Dean. 🤣 I think I just like the alliteration of "Big Bird body language."

i'd be blaming her for sure because how is she gonna be mad at something that happened before she was in the picture, then continue to be mad as if she's not actively choosing to stay, which is wild to me considering it's only been two months 💀 (she low-key reminds me of mona from friends 😩)

Yes you're seeing my Friends parallels in this one loll. Very much the Ross/Rachel surprise pregnancy situation, with Mona and Joey (as Benny) thrown into the mix. 😆😆

this could just be my anger issues talking but the urge to bitch slap her has appeared and it only intensified the more she talked 🤠 nothing more irritating than thinly veiled insults and backhanded comments. and how dare she do this, not just to another woman, but a pregnant woman? i'd cuss her out so quick like ho is you cool?? pack it up and put it away nobody asked for your projections negative nelly 🤚🏽

Oh definitely this is the worst Lisa lmao. There's nothing worse than unsolicited health/weight loss advice, especially to a pregnant lady, and ESPECIALLY from someone who has never had a baby and doesn't know anything about childbirth. 🙄 Lisa's 31 flavors of out of line on this one, but no matter how much she wants to hit back, the reader here is holding her tongue mainly because she doesn't want to create more of a mess for Dean. 🥲

oh god my patience could neverrr 😭 it may be a bit irrational, but I would be so upset like you just kissed your gf, do not touch me sir. 🤠more importantly though, how are you going to juggle a new relationship with another woman and be truly committed to all the responsibilities of a new baby? :/ oh dean

And you'd totally be in your right to feel that way. 🥲 Dean's trying to be considerate, he just doesn't know how to navigate this situation very well. 🤣 (Clearly he's never had to deal with real emotions with women before.)

oooo I woulda smacked her hand away, like don't touch me you sneaky wench 🤺

"sneaky wench" got me so hard! 🤣

awww, i wanna give her a huuuuuug :(( honestly he's so real for this lolll

Aww so does Dean (and a lot more lol). 🥲

this was a great first chapter! the preview for the next part has me intrigued, and a bit confused 😅 i’m really looking forward to seeing how this plays out <333

Thank you so very much, friend!! Haha I don't blame you for being confused with the sneak peek, but you shall see. *rubs hands together* There's LOTS of drama yet to unfold in Part 2...

IF I STAY - Part 1

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: Yes, here’s another firefighter AU! Based on a request from one of my lovely Patreon members: @redhoodieone. She requested pretty much all the major beats of this story, so hopefully I did her request justice! This is also partially inspired by Fools Rush In, a beautiful movie with Salma Hayek and Matthew Perry (Rest in Peace, King).

Song Inspo: “I Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis

Word Count: 8.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, thick thirty, hints of body insecurity, but also body appreciation, angst, and hurt/comfort.

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Part 1: Fools Rush In

Slowly, your eyes slide open into the waking world. Your head is resting on something warm, firm…and a little sweaty. You pick your head up, despite the disorienting, muddy feeling of a slight hangover.

A groan bubbles in your throat. Your gaze travels downward, and you realize that what you’re looking at is more of a who.

Your eyes widen. Oh…my…God…

Not only are you very naked, but your firm pillow is too. It happens to be your best friend’s brother.

Yes, holy fucking shit! You slept with your best friend’s brother.

Biting the inside of your lip, you can’t help but take him in, here in the raw light of day as he lays peacefully on his back. His head lolls to the side on your usual pillow. Your eyes roam over the bow of his lips, the dark eyebrows, lightish brown hair that's softer than it should be between your fingers.

He’s painfully handsome. There’s a slight hesitation in your touch, but you softly trace the cut of his jaw and the stubble spread across it. That roughness feels familiar, and not just under the pads of your fingers, though the thought makes you blush. You begin to remember the night before, almost like a movie reel through your mind… 

Ooooh, right. That’s what happened.

It starts at Sam Winchester’s joint bachelor-bachelorette party at a nice hotel downtown. He and Eileen aren't the "strippers and coke" kind of party couple. They're more the "wine and brie en croute with pickled olives" on the expensive crackers you can't afford—kind of couple.

They look perfectly in love, if a bit long-suffering while Dean gives a hilarious, somewhat inappropriate, but still ultimately heartwarming toast to their happiness. After lowering the glass of champagne from his lips, his gaze catches on yours in the crowd. You suck in a subtle breath. 

Technically you’ve met him already, being one of Eileen’s bridesmaids, but there’s something about his green eyes that pin you to the floor. When he hands over the mic to Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, his head turning away from you to offer her a smile breaks the spell. It allows you to breathe.

Dean later finds you by the bar. You’re drinking a rum and coke with your slice of cake, trying not to get a single crumb on your dress. You've put a lot of work into affording it, let alone fitting in it. He leans his elbows casually on the counter and looks over at you.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he nods at you with a smile, subtly taking you in first. Then, his eyes go to your plate. “Ooh, red velvet. Gotta get me some of that.”

You smile back at him. “It’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, looks good in your hand,” he says, adding a teasing wink for good measure.

You don't know why that does it for you, but a half-flattered, half-nervous laugh tumbles out of your mouth. Sam has warned you before about Dean. Apparently his older brother is a bit of a flirt; a ladies’ man.

A man whore, are the words Eileen used.

You’re honestly surprised he’s talking to you when Eileen’s other bridesmaids, Lisa and Jo, are sipping martinis together down at the other end of the bar. Guess they didn’t want cake.

They look beautiful in their lithe, strapless little cocktail dresses. You’ve had to give up chocolate, bread, and cheese for three months straight to fit into this dress, something slinky and red that drapes over your thicker, curvy figure. But you’re proud of the fact that you’re letting yourself eat cake tonight, even though you’ve often felt like Mrs. Doubtfire while standing for pictures next to Lisa and Jo.

They’re Eileen’s friends, not so much your crowd. No matter how much you’ve tried to get to know them while helping the wedding planning in whatever way you can, you still get a high school clique vibe from the women, if with more “polite smiles.” Then they’ll typically go back to talking about crystal centerpieces—or whatever in-depth conversation they were having before you were there. 

But right now, Dean’s focus is on you. When he asks you more about yourself, you tell him about recently earning an elementary education degree.

“Ah, but you already knew that, because Sam told you we graduated college together,” you realize, with warmth tingeing your cheeks. That subject came up pretty quickly when he introduced you to his brother.

Dean’s smile confirms your suspicions, so you just keep filling the silence on reflex.

“Well, I actually just started teaching my first ever semester of second graders. They’re a bit of a handful, but overall, they’re really sweet.” Your smile falters. “Except for this one kid who likes to put little tacks on my chair. He’s kind of a menace, but I think if I bribe him with enough lollipops, he’ll give it a rest. I mean, it’s a behavioral issue and I should probably call his parents. But it's kind of hard to tell them their son is trying to make my ass into a pincushion."

Dean's laugh comes out in a sharp burst, like he wasn't expecting what just came out of your mouth. You didn't either, honestly. You giggle more out of embarrassment, ducking your head.

"He’s in second grade, you know?" you say, in between laughter. "I don't think that little footnote needs to end up on his permanent record. But then there's Micah. He's so friggin' smart. He can read at the fifth grade level already. Can you believe that? And I know I'm not supposed to have favorites, but his grades on his spelling tests get him a spot in the comfy bean bag chair pretty much every Friday. Honestly, I think that's what I like about working with kids. I get to see that spark on their face when something just finally clicks for them. Their little faces get all bright and happy and…ugh. God, I'm sorry. I'm rambling, right?”

You stop yourself with a hand sliding over your mouth, not quite covering your smile of embarrassment.

Dean’s grin just widens, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. 

"It's okay. I kinda like it," he teases.

You duck your head, biting your lip against a groan. He chuckles and reaches out for your hand, earning your nervous glance. He quirks his head.

“Hey, you're passionate about what you do, helping kids. That's nothin' to be ashamed of,” he says, brushing his thumb over your hand. “But sweetheart, I gotta ask. Am I making you nervous or something?”

God, yes, you think, especially at that sweetheart thing. It’s making your heartbeat tick up a syncopated rhythm, but you shake your head, biting the straw of your rum and coke.

“No, not at all,” you say, in a hopefully “breezy” kind of way. You touch your fingers to his wrist. “Tell me about you though. Sam mentioned that you’re a firefighter?”

“Ah, yeah. Firefighter in training,” he says, with a more genuine smile.

He just started at the Fire Academy, and he tells you about all the drills he’s had to learn and all the training he’s had to do to be able to keep up with his classes. You subtly eye him while you sip at your drink, and you notice the crisp cut of his buttoned-down shirt and leather jacket, the definition of muscle across his thighs under the slacks, even while he casually sits.

Your gaze subtly travels down his long bowed legs, smart dress shoes. His cologne is woody and masculine, but not overpowering; maybe bergemot and sandalwood. It pleasantly wafts under your nose every time he gestures with his hands while he talks.

“Aw man, I can’t hold out anymore. I think I need to get me some of that cake before it’s gone,” he says, getting up from his chair.

You’re a bit disappointed that he’s leaving, until he stops short.

“You want another piece?” he offers, gesturing at your empty plate that’s been resting on the counter.

You blink in surprise, but you shake your head. “Oh, no. I probably shouldn’t.”

“Why not? It’s a party,” Dean reasons. His grin is too damn infectious. It has you smiling, and begrudgingly agreeing.

Not only does he bring you more cake, but you watch him eat three whole slices before he asks you to dance.

The rest of it flashes through your mind like strobe lights—the way he’d started small and respectful with his larger hand closed over yours and the other along the curve of your waist. He guided you closer and closer, until you were turned around into his arms, and you could feel his warm breath on your neck.

You felt his lips teasing your skin. Then those hands tantalizingly drifted down your every soft curve, as if showing you a preview of everything he could do to you, and every way he’d make you come apart. You believed him.

And when he whispered in your ear, asking if he could take you home, you let him.

You let him drive you in that big black piece of history he drives. Used to be my dad’s car, he said. A Chevy something. You couldn’t really remember much when his hand was drifting up and down your thigh like that.

His presence burned hot at your back when you two eventually got to the front door of your apartment, your hands just barely shaking as you got the key in. Twist and click—

He waited until you flipped the lights on. Then he turned you around slowly in his arms and pulled you in close, all the while asking you with his eyes and raised brows. This okay? You want this?

“Do I still make you nervous?” he asked, his lips twitching at a smile when yours do.

You nodded, uttering a small giggle. “In a good way.”

That was when he finally kissed you, hot and slow, like he meant to devour you whole. He moaned at the taste of you, at the feel of your ass squeezed in his hands. You clung onto him strong, breathing into his kiss and trying to meet every single demand of his lips.

It soon became a fiery tear to your bedroom, one lamp flicked on, hot breaths and nice clothes crumpled to the floor. You didn’t feel self-conscious even once when he guided you under him on the bed, because he wasted no time in taking you apart, inch by inch.

His lips kissed and licked and sucked a burning trail down your neck, over your collarbone and between your breasts. You felt his hardened length trapped between your bodies while his hands explored you, teasing your breasts and sensitive nipples, and he mapped his way down with his lips.

You explored every part of him you could—every dip of muscle, firm shoulders and the slopes of his back, and then back up to tangle in his hair. Your heated gasps and whimpers filled the room when his sinful mouth found what it was looking for between your legs.

It wasn’t often that you had a strong pair of shoulders to rest your thighs on, but Dean’s grip was hard enough to leave deep fingerprints of pressure on each thigh while he slipped his tongue through your folds and feasted on you.

“D-Dean, oh God,” you gasped. Every sound you made was a sensuous symphony in his ears, washing over his skin and making the well of his desire churn hot in his lower belly. He had to roll his hips into the mattress for some relief for his aching cock, even while he moved his mouth up to your clit, circling the swollen bud with his tongue. He had enough room to slip two fingers deep inside your sopping wet channel, exploring you deeply, stroking and twisting to find what you needed.

Your thighs trembled and squeezed tight on either side of his head. When he sucked your clit tight between his lips, you uttered as gasping moan as that coil snapped its release. Your inner walls fluttered around his fingers. Yours clenched tightly in his hair, threatening to rip out a few strands.

Dean stroked you all through your first orgasm, giving slower licks to your clit. He seemed to sense when you couldn’t handle anymore though. You tugged more sharply on his hair, and he finally pulled away, moving back up your body to gauge your reaction.

You’d collapsed boneless against the bed, but you still managed to smile up at him as you caught your breath.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked. But his self-satisfied grin almost made you laugh. You took his glistening face between your hands and pulled him down for a grateful kiss.

After a moment to savor your lips, he broke away for a second to catch his breath himself. You stroked his back all the while.

“You know, for a minute down there, I thought you might not let me come back up,” he teased.

You choked on a laugh, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Honestly wouldn’t have minded if you did suffocate me,” he chuckled, accompanied by a slap to your left ass cheek. You squealed, and blushed hotly at the way he was grinning down at you.

“Ready for more, baby? Or you want to call it a night?” he asked. His tone was playful, but it was actually a serious question. You blinked in surprise. You’d never had a guy be this, well…generous, and not expect anything in return, especially not for just a hookup.

But you shook your head and sat up, slipping a hand behind Dean’s neck. After a beat of hesitation, you guided him down to you for a slow, sensuous kiss.

“No, I don’t want to call it a night,” you whispered. Your hand drifted down his bare chest, and lower still. You showed him just how well you could return the favor.

And now, come the morning, you’re blushing down to your neck as each scene flashes through your mind. You feel the ghost of his hands all over your body, and how you’d never quite felt quite as bold and sexy and beautiful with a near stranger as you had with Dean effing Winchester. Your best friend’s brother.

You begin to worry your bottom lip with your teeth. How the hell are you going to tell Sam? Especially after he warned you about exactly this. Plus, there’s a reason you don’t typically do the one-night stand thing, and this has the potential to become something very complicated.

You know what, it’s fine! you think. We’re two consenting adults. We’re both single. And maybe…maybe it could be more than a hookup. Maybe we can see each other again, see where it goes.

“What’re you thinking so hard about?” Dean says, his voice croaking with sleep.

You look down at him in surprise. His eyes have cracked open and he has your hand captive, stopping you from continuing to idly trace patterns on his bare chest. You smile in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you say. Again, you bite your lower lip. “Um, good morning.”

“Morning, sweetheart,” he grins lazily. “You sure wore me out last night.”

Your smile becomes more genuine, even if you turn your face away somewhat shyly.

“Aw, don’t do that,” Dean says. He slides his hand up your arm and behind your neck, tangling into your already tangled hair when he guides you down to his lips for a kiss. “You were awesome.”

You giggle against his lips. “Really?”

“Hell, yeah,” he says, kissing you again.

You shake your head a little. “You were…”

Amazing. Unbelievable. Probably the best night I’ve ever had.

“Perfect,” you decide. Because it’s the truth. The word comes out of your mouth before you can filter yourself though, making you pause. Dean does too, but after a beat, he slowly smiles.

“Oh yeah?” he asks.

You lick your lips, and you nod. “Definitely.”

“Well, then,” he says. His hand moves down to squeeze your hip. “You down for a repeat performance?”

You smile. “Only if I get a turn.”

Bracing your hands on his chest, you slide your thigh across his lap so you can straddle his hips. Dean grins and goes along with your idea. He gets a nice healthy handful of your thighs and helps settle you on top of him. But first, he reaches over into your nightstand drawer and finds another condom, ripping it open with his teeth.

Just like you did for him last night, you take the packet, as well as his generous length in your hands. You gently stroke him to full mast, smiling pleased at his groan of pleasure. Then you carefully fit the condom over him.

“You’re so gentle with me,” he teases. 

“Just returning the favor,” you quip, just before you position him at your wet entrance. Slowly, you sink down over his cock.

You both moan at the feeling of him stretching you again, warm and thick and fitting perfectly nestled deep inside. There had been moments last night where he wasn’t all that gentle, actually, but his passion had only spurred yours on more. You know you’ll probably find fingerprint marks on your thighs and ass, but it’s fucking worth it, you think, as you begin to bob a rocking rhythm that serves you both.

Dean arches his back underneath you, his knees coming up to press against your ass.

“Goddamn, baby. Givin’ me quite a show,” he says, in a panting voice that’s deep as sin.

You utter a breathy laugh.

Dean means it though. He’s enjoying the way you brush your hair out of your face, your beautiful tits in his face while you truly let loose for him. He guides you by the stronghold he has on your hips, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh as he ruts up into you, meeting your thrusts.

Your breath quickens, your nails digging into his chest on reflex, and your heart races as that delicious pleasure builds. But when Dean snakes a hand between you and further parts your folds to massage tight circles over your clit, your vision flashes white. You utter a scream of pleasure on his name, your inner walls choking him tight as you throb around his cock. His release hits him like a goddamn freight train.

“Aw, fuck,” he grunts.

He slams your hips down hard, making your thighs slap against his. A ragged groan escapes him in a rush. His hands move to your thighs just under your ass, where his fingers press into flesh hard enough to leave forensic ID, giving him leverage to bury himself deep into your pussy as he spills a hot release into the condom.

Goddamn…

He can almost imagine that he’s coming free inside you, that you’re milking his cock for every drop, until there’s nothing left for him to give.

The thought surprises him. It almost takes him out of the moment, honestly. That’s not a thought he’s ever had before—not with a woman he barely knows (which is most of his hookups, if he’s honest).

In that delicious, fractious moment just after it hits, it’s like those few seconds are suspended in zero gravity. Your arms are shaking, and your forced to collapse against his chest. Dean welcomes you there for a little while, letting you come down while he smooths a hand over your hair.

Though he can't help the urge to let his big hand drift down over your dewy skin, down the gentle slope of your back and over the curve of your generous ass. He gives one cheek a teasing slap. The sound echoes in the room.

"Goddamn perfect ass," he says roughly, smirking at your squeal. You end up grinning hard against his neck.

"'S that my new nickname?" you quip.

He chuckles deeply, moving you along with his chest. "Hell, sweetheart, if you want it to be."

Eventually, you lean back to give him a smile and one last kiss before you pull away from him. You slip off his lap to find your robe, at least. You definitely need a shower.

“So I’m thinking, after we get cleaned up, I could make us some breakfast,” you offer. “Or if you want, maybe we could go somewhere. I know a little diner down the block.”

“I like the sound of food,” Dean agrees with a smile. Ge reaches over for his phone on the nightstand, to check the time. His eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”

He has to get his ass over to the Fire Academy. He has class in barely twenty minutes.

He tears out of bed and nearly trips on the coiled sheets.

“Sorry. Gonna need to take a raincheck,” he says. He hurries to find his clothes strewn all over your bedside floor.

“What’s the matter?” you ask with wide eyes. You cross your arms under your breasts, but it’s more like you’re hugging yourself over your robe. You watch him tear through your bedroom in a tempest of movement.

Dean spares you a glance, but not much else as he yanks up his slacks and belt and dress shirt.

“Gotta get to class,” he confesses. Thank God he has his uniform in the trunk of his car for exactly these kinds of emergencies. He grabs his phone, wallet, and keys, and quickly kisses you on the cheek. He gazes down at you apologetically. “Sorry I gotta cut and run, sweetheart, but it’s been fun.”

Your smile barely reaches your eyes. He’s pressed for time, but he still notices.

He slows himself down and cups your cheek. “Hey.”

He gets your pretty eyes looking up at him, and he gives you a real kiss, nice and slow. He cradles your cheek and brushes his thumb across your skin.

“Thanks,” he says. His now familiar grin manages to make you smile. “And I mean that.”

You shake your head at him. “Okay go, Mr. Future Fireman. Be safe out there, okay?”

He gives you a playful salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

You can’t help but laugh. This guy’s too much. But you don't think you've had this much fun having sex in...

All right, let's not put a timeframe on it.

You watch him leave your apartment, even though you have a sinking feeling in your chest. You knew this was just a hookup for him, for both of you. Part of you just couldn’t help hoping that it could’ve led to something more. 

Dean means to call you.

He really does.

After that truly awesome, you shook me all night long, kind of a night, he thinks about you more than he’d like to admit over the next few weeks. However, he finds himself locked into his training. He’s so close to finishing strong and earning his badge, he just can’t afford any more distractions.

Still, he should’ve known that Sam would find out—either through Eileen, or through you directly. He also should’ve expected the way his brother let him have it.

“And you didn’t even fucking call her. See? This is why I don’t set you up with any of my friends anymore,” Sam bitches at him from his side of the small two-seater dinner table. They still share an apartment, though in just a month and a half, Sam’s going to be moving out. He and Eileen already found a house that they’re moving into after the wedding.

“Look, I was going to call her, man. They’ve just been bustin’ my ass at the Academy!” Dean argues.

“Bullshit.” Sam levels him with the same finger that holds his beer.

Dean’s brows raise, high and annoyed. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I’m calling bullshit. Because if you really liked her, respected her, and respected me, you would’ve made the time,” Sam says.

That falls heavy between the brothers for a moment while they eat their pizza.

“Look, I know her. She doesn’t do hookups that often, which means…she probably liked you,” Sam adds. “And honestly, when are you going to give it a real try with someone? You can only visit that free clinic so many times.”

Dean shoots him a glare. He’s had a clean bill of health from said clinic for six months straight.

“Jesus Christ. Enough, all right?” he grouses. “What’re you, Mom?”

“I’m just saying,” Sam says, lowering his crust to the plate. He levels his brother with a more earnest look, lightening up from his anger. “Look, if it’s about what happened to Dad—”

“What, you mean the way he drank himself to death after Mom died?” Dean says. His voice cuts through whatever softball glove Sam is trying to handle him with. “You think that’s the kind of thing I should be looking for in my life?”

“Oh, and what, do you think I’m making a mistake marrying Eileen?” Sam counters.

Dean sighs, shaking his head. “Damn it, don’t put words in my mouth. That’s not what I’m saying, it’s just…I don’t know. Maybe that kind of life—the house, the wife, the 2.5 kids and the dog. Maybe that’s just not my life, okay?”

Sam gives him a long look. He lets go of a deep breath, and he shrugs.

“Okay,” he says. “If you think hooking up night after night for the rest of your life is going to make you happy, then fine.”

Dean nods, glad that they can put an end to this little After School Special.

“Okay.”

Still, he can’t finish his third slice of pizza. He keeps picturing your face when he left you that morning. No matter how you tried to hide it, he still saw the tinge of disappointment in your eyes. It brews something uncomfortable in his stomach, and a sting in his chest.

You’re eating lunch alone in your classroom, finally on your break, when an unfamiliar number flashes across your phone screen. You look down at it in confusion, but with all the caterers and florists and things you’ve helped Eileen with on the wedding, you figure it could be important. You pick up the call and greet whoever’s on the line.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”

You drop your ham and cheese on your keyboard, gaping in surprise.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he chuckles slightly. “Sorry, I know it’s been a minute.”

You frown, because you’re confused more than anything.

“Yeah, like almost a month,” you reply. You put the call on speaker so you can grab up your sandwich and quickly brush off the crumbs from your keyboard. You struggle to say something cool, clever, sexy even. “I’m okay. Just, um…what’s up?”

Smooth, real smooth. You cover your eyes with your hand.

“Nothin’, I was just thinking of that night,” he says. “I had a good time.”

Your frown deepens, despite the beginning of a blush warming your cheeks. If he’s calling you just for another hookup…

“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.

That part throws you though, you’re not going to lie. What, is this a Netflix and chill situation—with a side of fries?

You consider it. You weigh pros and cons at a frightening speed in your mind, almost like Sherlock Holmes contemplating the layout of a dead body and deducing within moments that his wife committed the murder, despite the man no longer wearing a ring.

You want to let yourself be bold and spontaneous and carefree...but it's just not who you are at your core. You're a planner, a cautious person who looks three ways before crossing the street. Letting Dean take you home that night was certainly one of the most spontaneous, wild things you've done since your friends took you out to a strip club after you aced your final round of exams back in college.

(Sam hadn't been there that night, but he did get an embarrassing drunken text from you at 3:00 a.m., along with a few shame-ridden pictures fueled by questionable substances. Yes, he still had the evidence.)

You just don't know if it's smart to let yourself hookup with Dean again. Mostly because you know your heart has the tendency to get attached, no matter how much you warn it not to.

“You know, Dean, I’m pretty busy with my job right now. I just started here a couple of months ago, and I think I just need to focus on that right now,” you say. Part of it isn’t a lie, even though your soft heart is stinging.

“Ah, okay. Yeah. I get that,” he says. You hear his disappointment too. “But I just need to say, I really am sorry for not calling you sooner.”

Your lips tug at a smile. “It’s okay, Dean. Look, you’re Sam’s brother. I just feel like, maybe it’s better if you and I stay friends.”

“Friends, huh?” Dean says wryly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t have three rounds of steamy hot sex with any of my friends.”

Your blush comes swiftly again, burning in your cheeks.

“Be that as it may,” you say, “I just don’t want to do anything that will distract from Sam and Eileen’s wedding.”

“Oh, I’m a distraction, huh?” Dean says flirtatiously. 

You begin to smile in earnest. “I think you know damn well what you are, Dean Winchester.”

His deep chuckle practically resonates through the phone and into your chest, going straight down to your pussy. You clench on nothing just at the sound of his voice, making you cross your legs under your skirt. Dear God…

How are you supposed to be even remotely normal around this man now? 

But for Sam’s sake (and your own), you’ll have to try. 

Two months later, Dean has taken Sam’s dating advice to heart. A week or so after you turned him down, he ran into Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, while he was at the grocery store buying beer and Twizzlers. She was a smart, sharp, sexy brunette. A yoga instructor, he soon found out. So he took a chance on asking her out. They’ve been going slow and steady ever since. 

Dean hasn’t heard from you since the rehearsal dinner, but he sees you again at his brother’s wedding. All the bridesmaids are wearing long, royal blue dresses that drape off the shoulders and hug the bust and waist, flaring gently at the skirt. Lisa and Jo wear it beautifully, their hair perfectly smooth and coiled. 

But when you step out into the hall outside the church ballroom to join them, Dean actually pauses in what he’s saying to his brother. He nearly double takes when you enter his line of vision—mostly because he hasn’t seen you in a dress since that night. You were sexy as hell then, a lady in red. 

Today, you’re absolutely stunning. 

After greeting Sam with a warm hug, you turn to him with a nervous kind of smile. “H-Hey, Dean.”

With that, he snaps out of it. Dean smiles, eyes crinkling, and goes over to give you a hug as well.

“Good to see you,” he says, trying not to inhale too much of your nice perfume. It’s even in your hair.

“You too,” you reply. Your smile is a little brighter, more genuine. Though there’s something behind your eyes that he can’t quite place.

What he doesn’t notice is the way Lisa is watching you and her boyfriend, a hint of suspicion on her face.

You do though. You pull away from Dean and assemble into a line with Lisa at the helm. As the Best Man, Dean stands with her, followed by Jo and Brady, another one of Sam’s buddies. You and Benny bring up the rear. Benny’s dad used to work with John, Sam and Dean’s father, on the police force.

According to Sam, John Winchester worked a beat for twenty-six years before his liver finally gave out on him. Dean almost went to the Police Academy to follow in his dad’s footsteps, but Benny, already working his way up to Lieutenant, suggested Dean become a smoke eater instead. The suggestion stuck.

Benny Lafitte is slightly shorter than Dean, but just as broad-shouldered, his auburn beard neatly trimmed. Even though you might’ve thought he was rough around the edges at first, his kind blue eyes spoke the contrary. He offers you his arm like a gentleman.

“Well aren't I lucky, getting the prettiest girl on my arm,” he says, with a charming smile.

You smile, and even begin to blush at the way he subtly takes note of you from head to toe.

“Well, thank you. You’re very handsome yourself. Although, hold on.” You slip your arm out of his for a moment so that you can fix his tie. It’s slightly crooked. You make sure that it lays flat under his collar, smoothing down all the edges and picking off any small dust particles that landed on his collar. Benny watches you with an indulgent smile.

“Am I good?” he asks.

“Very,” you reply.

“I appreciate it, thank you,” he says. You don’t know if he means to sound flirtatious, but his voice is a deep drawl that washes over you pleasantly. You find yourself blushing down to your neck as you slip your arm back around his.

You also don’t notice how Dean glances at you and Benny over his shoulder.

As much as you love Sam and Eileen, it’s difficult for you to keep your mind from spinning into fractals as the ceremony goes on. You can’t help but glance at Dean. He stands there behind Sam dutifully, but you see brotherly pride in Dean’s eyes, in his smile. It makes you smile too. You too love Sam like a brother, and it brings a well of happy tears to your eyes to watch him have his moment with his new wife.

It just also reminds you of what you need to do.

After the ceremony ends and the bridal party files out behind the bride and groom, you excuse yourself from Benny apologetically. You wait until Lisa and Jo go off to take pictures with Sam and Eileen, and you grab Dean’s wrist, pulling him aside.

“I need to talk to you,” you whisper.

Dean gives you a confused look. “They’re gonna need us for the pictures.”

“I know, but this is important,” you say. Your voice trembles with nerves, and so do your hands. Dean notices, frowning in concern. He grasps your arm to try and steady you.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Just come with me,” you implore him. You take his hand and lead him into the women’s dressing room attached to the church sanctuary you all just came out of.

Dean raises his brows at the mess you and the rest of the bridesmaids have made of the room—pantyhose and makeup and clothing litter the floor and most available surfaces, while leftover breakfast sandwiches, grapes, salami, and cheddar cheese cubes are splayed out across one of the vanity counters. Dean is tempted to steal a morsel, but he focuses on you first.

You close and lock the door, which makes his brows raise high again. You know he has a girlfriend now, right?

“Uhh, look, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but—”

You heave a sigh. Again, you take his hand and guide him to sit with you at the vanity. The old stools squeak, the overhead lights a bit too bright. This is not where you want to do this, but you can’t hold it in anymore.

“Dean, I’m pregnant,” you confess.

He freezes. His breath stills in his lungs. His eyes slowly widen as the words click in his brain.

“What?” His head tilts, as if he didn’t hear you right.

You squeeze his hand; to ground him or yourself, you’re not sure.

“I’m about two months pregnant. I found out last week.”

Dean swipes his free hand over his mouth while he tries to compute. He squeezes your hand, tighter and tighter. He points to himself.

“It’s…it’s me? It’s mine?”

You give him a weary smile. “You’re the only one I’ve been with in the last few months. It could only be you.”

Oh fuck. The man’s face begins to pale as he descends into shock.

“But we…I used a condom,” he reasons. “All the—all the times!”

You bite your lip. If you weren’t freaking the fuck out yourself, you’d probably be laughing right now. Granted, you’ve had a bit more time to process this than Dean.

“I know, I was there,” you reply, releasing yet another sigh. “One of them probably broke. That’s all I can think of… Honestly, Dean, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I just didn’t want to disrupt the ceremony or cause a scene before the wedding. But now you know.”

Dean falls silent then. He hasn’t let go of your hand, which you think is a decent sign. He’s likely forgotten that you’re still holding it as he stares off into the middle distance for several seconds.

Eventually, he shakes his head and returns his gaze to yours. He looks uncertain, his handsome face the true epitome of holy fucking shit.

You know the feeling.

But he asks the most important question.

“What do you want to do?”

Briefly you close your eyes as you take a breath. You squeeze his hand before you let go of him.

“I’ve thought about this a lot, and…I’m keeping the baby,” you tell him, though you raise placating hands. “I don’t want money, or anything like that. I just wanted you to know that it’s yours. How much you want to be in his or—or her life, that’s up to you.”

Dean takes a beat before he answers, but you don’t have to wait so long holding your breath.

“Okay. Okay, yeah. I’ll help you. Don’t worry,” he says.

And just like that, all the time you spent giving yourself pep talks for this, telling yourself that you’ll need to be strong no matter what he says, all of it crumbles into relief. Your lower lip trembles, and your body shudders as you break into tears. You try covering your face to hide your shame, but Dean grasps your shoulders.

“Hey, hey. It’s all right,” he says. He tentatively pulls you into a hug. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You nod into his dress shirt, probably staining him with your running makeup.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “Thank you so much.”

He holds you a bit tighter in response.

You and Dean agree to keep this to yourselves for now, at least until Sam and Eileen get back from their honeymoon. It’s difficult to explain why your eyes are all red and your makeup is smudged, but you promise Sam that you’ll tell him later. You know it’s pointless to lie to him though. As a lawyer, his bullshit meter is far too high.

However, you also know that he’s half guessed it by the time you all make it to the reception. When you and Dean came out of that dressing room to join the bridal party for pictures, you're sure that you looked emotionally wrecked. Dean had looked pale as a sheet, his body coiled and tense, as willing himself to seem normal. Sam had clocked both of you with a raise of his brow, but he didn't say anything then, especially after you gave him a pleading look.

While Eileen greets her family without him for a moment, Sam pulls you aside. He notes your glass of diet coke, in a moderate sea of guests drinking champagne and cocktails.

“Are you okay?” he asks knowingly.

Tears well up in your eyes again. You don’t know if it’s your damn hormones going haywire, or just the way Sam asks you, with the love of a friend in his eyes. He squeezes your shoulder gently, prompting you with your name.

“Yeah, I think I will be,” you say.

"Is it the same reason you're not drinking?" he asks. "You and Dean earlier..."

You hesitantly confirm with a nod. Sam blows out a harsh sigh, raising folded hands to his mouth as he processes. You begin to look around on reflex, trying to see if anyone's watching you and Sam have this conversation in the middle of the reception. To your relief, everyone around you seems occupied with drinks, hours d'oeuvres and conversation.

“What did he say when you told him?” Sam asks. His gaze is firmer. You get the idea that if he doesn’t like what you tell him, then he’s about to go grab his brother by the ear himself.

You grab his wrist and give a placating squeeze. “He said he's going to help me, be there for me.”

“Damn right. So will I,” Sam nods, and glances back at Eileen, his new bride, with a smile. “We both will.”

“I know,” you nod as well. “I’ll be okay, Sam. You don’t have to worry so much. Just enjoy your wedding day. It’s the only one you’re gonna get. Well, you know…hopefully.”

You tease him with a wink.

Sam laughs, cupping your cheek. He kisses your other cheek.

“I love you, you know that right?” he says.

You give him a trembling smile through your tears.

Meanwhile, Dean has a beautiful woman in his arms. He turns Lisa on the dancefloor, trying not to trip on his own dress shoes, all the while knowing that his brain isn’t here in his body. It’s across the ballroom, watching you talk to Sam. Dean can tell that he knows, just in his Big Bird body language. He’d also recognize that accompanying Bitch Face anywhere.

“Dean, what’s wrong,” Lisa asks him, and not for the first time. She’s getting annoyed, he can tell. She finally looks over to where he keeps glancing, and she notices you with a frown. It’s also not the first time she’s caught him staring at you tonight.

“What was that earlier in the dressing room? She didn’t really get food poisoning, did she?” she asks pointedly. “What, did you two used to date or something?”

He gives a wan smile. “Yeah, kinda. We…had a thing once.”

“What kind of thing?”

Dean closes his eyes and tries to keep himself calm. He’s pretty sure if he tells her the truth right now, she’s going to find the nearest cocktail and dump it over his head.

But shit, here it goes.

“Well…”

After a long day at school, you drive over to Dean’s apartment. You’d agreed to meet there and wait for him to get off his shift at Firehouse 83, where he just started as a full-fledged firefighter on probation. When he gets home, he’s supposed to go with you to an important appointment with your OB-GYN. 

You were hoping he’d already be done with work by the time you got to his place, but Lisa's there to open the door for you. Apparently, he’d already given her a key.

Moving kind of fast, but okay, you think. A second later, you could’ve rolled your eyes at yourself. Pot, kettle, me. Got it.

Lisa greets you with a “polite” smile at best, but she does offer you water at least. You really can’t blame her for not liking you though. She found out her boyfriend got another woman pregnant right before he started dating her. Really, she has more balls than you for staying with him. You wouldn't put it past Dean to somehow have smooth-talked her into giving him a chance.

Or she really loves him. The thought sobers you as you lower yourself down to the couch beside her. Both of you sit there in silence for a moment, trying to figure out something to talk about.

“So, you’re what, six months pregnant?” she asks.

You correct her in thinly veiled annoyance. “Three months, actually.”

“Oh, wow. I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t know why I thought it was six.”

You have a feeling her awkward chuckle is fake, however. She knew good and damn well that you’re not six months pregnant. In her eyes, you must be the size of a parade float. 

“If you want, I can recommend a holistic diet to help you get your body back after the baby’s born,” Lisa offers. “No pills, no chemicals. Just good clean weight loss.”

You feign interest. Honestly, you’d like her to cram that offer right up her hooch.

“I can even give you a discount if you want to try out yoga,” she says. “It’s low impact, but you burn plenty of calories. I have a beginner’s class, not too strenuous. Even my least flexible clients manage to do the poses.”

Is that why Dean likes you? Because you’re bendy? Bet if I sat on you, you’d pop like a fucking balloon.

You hide all of these thoughts behind a “polite” smile of your own.

“That’s really nice of you, thanks,” you reply. It’s non-committal enough, but hopefully it’ll get her off your back.

No such luck.

“You know, maintaining a healthy diet is really important for the baby’s health too,” Lisa adds. “It’s not just about avoided raw fish and dairy products. Oh, and processed food is obviously a no-go. Like, I’m sure you haven’t been hitting Taco Bell and all that stuff, right?”

As a matter of fact, you’ve been eating clean since long before you got pregnant. Not that it’s any business of hers whether you enjoy the occasional quesadilla or not.

Your temper snaps at its leash. You open your mouth to reply, when the front door unlocks and opens to Dean, stepping in through the threshold.

Thank God, you and Lisa both think. She gets up quicker from the couch than you, greeting her boyfriend with a kiss. You avert your gaze while you begin to get up yourself.

Dean reaches out to help you, grasping your arm in support. You shoot him a smile.

“I can still get up by myself,” you snip.

“Yeah, all right. Just in case,” he says with a smile. “Ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah. Let’s rock and roll,” you say, trying to hide your worsening mood. You’re exhausted, and irritated, and probably more than a little hangry. Except now, the idea of food just has you feeling guilty for even being hungry.

“Bye, hun. Hope you have a good appointment,” Lisa says, giving your shoulder a pat. You give her the most genuine smile you can muster as you thank her. It's possibly that she's one of those women who don't realize when they're being cunty, but you find it highly unlikely. She's too smart for that.

You follow Dean out the door and over to his car, big and black and sleek as you remember. You settle into the passenger seat with your arms crossed in silence. Dean switches the cassette to one of his favorite Led Zeppelin albums, though he notices your grumpy face.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

You give him some side-eye, but you’re reluctant to say anything. You just shake your head. As irritated as you are, you don’t want to be the friend who badmouths his girlfriend.

God, are we even friends? You wonder. Or am I just his knocked-up baby momma?

And again, you realize that this whole situation is probably hard for Lisa. You just don’t know if she’s jealous, or if she just…doesn’t like you.

“I’m okay,” you tell Dean.

He raises a skeptical brow. Looks like Sam isn’t the only one with a finely tuned bullshit meter.

“All right, how about this,” Dean says. “Let’s grab some burgers after this, huh? From your favorite spot. Shake Shack, right? Side of fries, frozen yogurt. I think I’ll get chocolate this time… Hmm, I doubt Lisa will want anything. She’s gone on an all-vegan kick or something.”

For one shining moment, you were happy and touched at his consideration. But now your body stills in your seat when you remember Lisa’s words. Tears well up in your eyes with a hot sting, and a sob escapes your throat.

Dean is cut off from thinking about getting extra bacon on his burger. He looks over at you in alarm. “H-Hey, what’s the matter?”

You scoff at him through your tears. “Are you kidding me? I can’t eat burgers anymore, Dean. I was already fucking fat. Now it’s just gonna get ridiculous.”

“What?” Dean’s brows knit together in confusion, along with his deepening frown. It gets worse as he tries to watch the road ahead, while at the same time, watching you continue to crumble.

“And after the birth, I’m just going to be an even fatter slob who can’t take care of her baby,” you sniffle and weep, trying in vain to wipe your eyes and get ahold of yourself.

Dean grits his teeth, his jaw twitching. Fuck it.

He turns the steering wheel sharp enough to startle a gasp out of you.

“Dean!”

He pulls the car over onto the side of the road, ignoring the honking SUV behind him. He shifts into Park and shuts off the radio—a big red flag, in your opinion. He’s upset too, and fucking serious, more so than you’ve ever seen him. You stare back at him with wide eyes.

“I’ve never once heard you say that you’re fat,” he says.

You blink at that, but eventually, you’re able to get your tongue to unstick from the roof of your mouth. You wipe the remnants of tears from your cheeks. Your face is already hot from your upset, now tinged with embarrassment.

“You haven’t known me very long,” you say quietly.

It doesn’t help. Dean’s jaw ticks again.

“Well, I’ve never thought it. Not even once,” he says. His jade green eyes are firmly set on yours, and he gestures between you and him with a pointed finger. “The reason you and I are here right now, is because the minute I saw you, I wanted you.”

One corner of his lips kicks upwards. “And that night, you didn’t disappoint.”

Your mouth falls open slightly. You don’t know how to respond, but you do know that a full blush is warming your face and neck. His words have power, and unbidden, they bloom a similar warmth between your legs. You swallow a bit nervously as you bite your bottom lip.

Dean glances down at your mouth when you do. He can remember what your pretty mouth did for him that night. Oh, he remembers all too well. He even had the shade of your lipstick streaked across his skin until he showered up at the firehouse.

He locks that all away when shifts the car back into Drive. If you’re going to make it to this appointment on time, he needs to get going.

And you both have to leave whatever that was right here by the side of the road.

AN: Woo! 😮‍💨 Yep, this is only Part 1, friends. Lisa is a bit different in this. My take was that without Ben in her life, she might be less mature and a bit more catty. As we get into Part 2 I'll leave it up to you to decide why she decides to stay with Dean, and perhaps more importantly, where the reader and Dean can go from here as co-parents. 🤔

If you enjoyed Part 1, please let me know!~

Next Time in Part 2:

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

Dean shakes his head. “Look, I…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.

⋆˙⟡ Read Part 2 on Patreon now!

⋆˙⟡ Coming to Tumblr/Ao3 on 3/23

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@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005

[monstertrucksactually]

Hi! Eons later, an answer for @setmeatopthepyre from the Short & Impactful prompts 💖

“Ah- Tommy,” Buck gasps as Tommy nips his collarbone and uses one hand to press his hip against the mattress. Having the familiar weight on top of him again is beyond surreal. Better than he could have hoped for when he invited Ravi out tonight. It’s the most comfortable he’s felt in months. 

His ex is kissing him like nothing’s changed, like he needs Buck to survive. The feeling is definitely mutual. Except for the nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him this is temporary and not to get his hopes up. He’s always been good in bed and that’s the thing that brought Tommy back. Not Buck, just a distraction from every unspoken thing between them.

“What, baby? What do you want?” Tommy rolls his hips, creating a delicious friction that Buck just wants to chase. 

“I want- nngh- I wanted-” He doesn’t know what he’s looking for. He wants everything, wanted everything before. The sex, deep conversations, arguments about who’s turn it is to do dishes, waking up next to each other. All of it. And right now he’s sure all he’ll be left with is an empty bed in the morning and broken heart. “I want to forget you.”

Tommy freezes, raising his gaze to meet Buck’s. It’s a little ridiculous considering Tommy’s wild curls, mussed from Buck running his fingers through them, relishing the way they felt against his fingertips. 

“You- you want to forget me?” His expression is close to their last night, the night he walked away. Shocked, surprised, incredulous. 

Buck sniffs, swallows back the wave of conflicting emotions that he’s only been able to avoid until now thanks to baking and other distractions. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter and less confident that he would prefer. 

“Tommy,” he whispers, sweeping his thumb back and forth across Tommy’s cheekbone. “You said from the beginning that you didn’t think I was ready. And you were right. But you were also wrong.”

Tommy furrows his brow. “I don’t understand.”

“You see, I wasn’t ready. Not for you to kiss me, or want to take me to dinner and get to know me more. I wasn’t ready when I realized I wanted everything with you. But once I let it sink in, it all made sense. And I was ready. I wanted to hold your hand, and not necessarily dive into forever, but at least take that next step. Together. Except-”

“I wasn’t ready,” Tommy supplies.

“Why?” Buck pleads, his voice shaky. “Why wasn’t I good enough?” 

“Sweetheart, no.” Tommy brushes his lips against Buck’s forehead, his cheeks, his chin, the tip of his nose. “You- god, Evan. No, you were perfect. It was me, how I only saw heartbreak and fear. The same story I’ve seen played out whenever I finally got brave enough to go after what I wanted. And I just- I knew I couldn’t watch that happen with you, Evan.” He squeezes his eyes shut, like it’s too painful for them to see each other while he says his next words. “I couldn’t let that happen because I knew I wouldn’t survive when you left.” 

“When?” His eyes sting, flooding with the tears he’s been holding back. His heart beats wildly in his chest, angry and confused as to why he still wants the man in front of him to have it. To hold it in his hands and treat it as preciously as he ever has. “Why do you get to decide that? Why do you get to break your own heart - and mine - because you’ve already decided you know how we end? That I’m a- a placeholder for everyone else in your past?”

“Evan, you were never-”

“No,” he interjects. “Don’t- just don’t. Okay? This was a mistake. It’s always a mistake. This is why I wanna forget. I always think I can just do shit without catching feelings and acting like it’s not a big deal. Pretending like I can walk away and it’s fine because it’s a one way thing.”

Tommy snorts, raising an eyebrow. “Now who’s deciding for everyone?”

“Come on. You don’t have to rub it in my face. But tell me I’m wrong. Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t just come here to fuck, have a good time, and leave again.”

“Well,” Tommy inhales deeply, chest pushing against Buck’s like they could merge if he does it hard enough. When he breathes out, their eyes meet again, blue on blue. It’s steady, unwavering. “I was hoping to at least make you breakfast.”

“Be serious.” 

“I am. Look, I know I fucked up. I hurt you before. But maybe…” He trails off for a moment, curling his lips in. “Maybe we can try again. Not necessarily all the way at the beginning. Just- slower this time.”

Buck searches Tommy’s face for signs of uncertainty, or that he’s just being placating and telling him what he thinks he wants to hear. If any of that’s present, though, Buck can’t find it. 

“You think you’re ready this time?” 

“I don’t know when, or how much I’m ready for – and I can’t guarantee I won’t be scared again and fuck up – but I am ready for something. Especially with you.”

“Yeah?” Buck asks, quiet and hesitant.

“Yeah.” He playfully rubs the tip of his nose against Buck’s before resting their foreheads together. Buck greedily breathes him in, taking in the scent of cinnamon and embers, falling leaves and all things inherently Tommy. 

“So,” Tommy tilts his head slightly, murmuring against his lips. “What are you doing Saturday?”

mandatory tags for @diazsdimples and @bidisasterevankinard 😘

[bokettochild]

My friend group recently has been on a Mario Kart/SMASH Bros kick and that means, naturally, that there tends to be a it of smack talk tossed around

Well, when I end up playing Kart, I am always ALWAYS Link, because I know where my loyalties lay and, hey, it's fun!

Problem is, there's this one other kid who also instists on being Link, claiming "that's my boy!" to which I always have to respond "yes but since when, and how much?" because as everyone here knows, I'e been perhaps a bit TOO obsessed with Zelda for nearly 5 years now, and passively interested since probably 2017

Irregardless, we have a system now. I play as SkSw Link, and he as BotW Link (since both options are available)

Again though, smack talk happens. This guy kept trying to claim he was the 'better Link', which is unacceptable because even if Wild is one of my babies, insulting Sky is not to be borne, and, well, I'm an asshole IRL, so naturally I took this as a challenge

So yeah, I started talking smack on Wild. Nothing the rest of the room wouldn't understand, but my favorite thing I said (and which had the rest of the room going OOOOOH!) was definitely "well my Link scored a goddess, yours couldn't even get a fish"

(Sorry, Mipha, RIP)

Unfortunately, this resulted in me having to explain that, yes, link is with Zelda, yes, Zelda was a goddess in one game, and yes, Link did father the whole royal family. So, now, the other Link-player refers to Skord Link as "Daddy Link" and I have to deal with the consequences of my actions LOL

[onlyangel4]

picking up the broken pieces. seth rollins. roman reigns. part five.

cheater!seth rollins x reader. roman reigns x reader.

synopsis: after your world turns upside down overnight, roman is there to help you put the pieces back together.

faceclaim: eiza gonzález

part one // part two // part three // part four // part five // part six

series taglist: @tinyxrose @daemyratwst @mamis-girly @cutttteeee @pleasantlycrazyworld

authors note: no hate at all to seth and becky i love them so much this is just for the plot. the next part is the final instalment in this series. not timeline accurate but use your imaginations plz.

wwe posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: y/n has arrived at the final raw before wrestle mania

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one more promo. one more chance to stand in that ring and get everything off your chest before the biggest match of your life. you were bouncing on your feet backstage trying to hype yourself up for what was about to happen.

roman had been looking for you and when he found you he couldn't help but laugh, "getting in the zone?"

"contrary to popular belief not everyone is as confident as you mister tribal chief", you teased him playfully. he just slung his arm over your shoulder.

"you don't need to be confident, your talent speaks for itself", he spoke.

you smiled up at him before he led you towards the entrance. he pressed a soft fleeting kiss to your lips before moving his arm from your shoulders, no one other than charlotte knew about your romantic relationship and you thought it best that the fans were kept in the dark for just a while longer.

"you've got this", he whispered before your music started and the arena eruptted into cheers.

you smiled high fiving people as you walked down, roman walked down as stoic as usual, back straight, head up, eyes trained on you.

once reaching the ropes you climbed into the ring, followed by roman.

the crowd was chanting your name, making the smile on your face just that bit bigger.

they only hushed when you brought your microphone to your lips.

"six months ago, i had everything i thought i wanted. a best friend i trusted with my life. a partner who swore he had my back. and in one night, it all came crashing down. the people i trusted the most made me look like a damn fool."

the crowd booed at the mention of seth and becky.

"but here’s the thing about betrayal. it made me ten times stonger. and now, i’ve got nothing left to lose. but you? you two have everything to lose. your reputation, your pride, your legacy. and at wrestle mania, roman and i are going to show you that the scariest of opponents are the ones with nothing left to lose"

you lowered your mic eyes watching as roman stepped forward, his voice deep and controlled.

"seth, we’ve been through this before. we both know how this ends. you stab people in the back, you laugh about it, and you think there won’t be consequences. but there always are."

he was staring into the camera as if addressing rollins directly.

"you made this personal. you dragged her into it. you let your little sidekick run wild, and now? now you’ve got a problem. because you’re not just facing any opponent at wrestle mania… you’re facing me."

"and i don’t forget. i don’t forgive. i end people who cross the line."

you brought your mic back up to your lips to continue but then that song, that god forsaken song rang out through the arena. and the crowd began to boo as seth and becky began walking down the ramp and straight towards you, becky holding the raw woman's championship over her shoulder.

seth was slow clapping dramatically as he and becky got into the ring.

"wow. that was emotional. i almost shed a tear. almost. but let’s be real y/n, you’re out of your depth. you’re standing next to the ‘tribal chief’ like that makes you untouchable, but come on. you really think you can beat us?"

becky steps forward, eyes locked onto yours.

"you’re pathetic, you know that? you’ve spent months crying about what we did to you, but you never once took responsibility. maybe you’re the reason seth wanted out. maybe you’re the reason i never told you the truth. maybe you were just"

before she can finish, you lunge forward, forcing roman to step in front of you, keeping you from attacking her right then and there. becky smirked, enjoying how easily she’s getting under your skin.

"that’s the difference between us. i'm better than you. Aaways have been, always will be."

the energy in the ring was reaching boiling point as you glared daggers into becky.

"enough" a voice shouted and as you turned your head you saw adam pearce standing at the bottom of the ramp.

"i’ve been watching everything unfold for months, and after what happened after Becky put y/n on the shelf. i can’t, in good conscience, let that slide."

the crowd started to murmur in anticipation.

"so i spoke to hunter and here’s the deal. becky, you may be the raw women’s champion, but you cost y/n weeks of her career. so at wrestlemania, the stakes are even higher."

"if roman and y/n win, becky you will lose your title and y/n will become the next raw women's champion."

the crowd exploded. and becky began screaming at pearce, demanding he reverse the decision. and seth stopped laughing, that cocky smirk wiped clean off his face. roman, on the other hand, just smirked, tilting his head slightly as if to say, checkmate. you step forward, eyes locked on becky’s, your smirk mirroring roman’s.

"see you at wrestlemania champ", you spoke before both you and roman left the ring.

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once you and roman got back stage you were buzzing, you had no idea that the oppurtunity to become champion was going to be on the line.

you headed down a dimly lit corridor stopping mid way through and turning to roman, "did you see her face, i thought she was going to burst into flames."

"she is threatened by you. she should be", roman spoke his arm going around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

"you should've been champion a long time ago, you deserve this so much", he spoke his free hand moving to your chin tilting your head upwards as he brought his lips to meet yours. capturing you in one of his all encompassing kisses, the type that made you never want to pull away.

but you were soon brought back down to earth.

"what the hell?"

you pulled away abruptly, your breath still shaky, and turned to see him.

seth was stood just a few feet away, his eyes were dark, his expression unreadable, conflicted. for the first time in months, there was no arrogance, no bravado. just something else. a look you couldn't recognise.

he blinked, looking between you and roman, his jaw tightening. "guess i shouldn’t be surprised." his voice low, almost bitter.

you swallowed, steadying yourself. "you lost the right to be surprised a long time ago, seth."

roman didn’t say a word, but the way he shifted slightly, positioning himself in front of you just enough to be protective, sent a clear message.

seth huffed out a breath, running a hand through his hair before forcing a smirk, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "good luck at wrestlemania. you’re going to need it."

and just like that, he turned and walked away, but not before you caught one last flicker of emotion in his eyes, regret.

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y/ninsta posted a story

written: say what you want, but we don’t miss when it matters. 🎤

romanreigns posted a story

written: good luck

[angeliteeyes]

Hailo~ Let's do one for our beloved madam herta~ with an Oni S/O~

The Oni S/O sneaks onto Herta's space station disguised as a human. Why? Cause they're a masked fool , of course, and they're bestie Sparkle dared them too. So they successfully sneak in and actually remain undiscovered, Illusion powers are really the best. They can't just leave, though. So, like any masked fool, they decide to pull pranks on the researchers there while remain undercover, that is, until madam Herta makes a very rare visit to the space station.

She keeps getting reports from her puppets and about all the pranks that keep happening, and since she was in the area and was just a bit curious, she decided to investigate.

Imagine her surprise when she finally tracks you down and corners you. Then, after a brief battle, she strips away your illusionary disguise she and gazes upon two bright red horns sticking out from your forehead.

Oh man. I had sooo much fun brainstorming this idea with you, you have no idea. And with that, I present to you...

The Herta x Oni Reader

Here's the origin post with the rest of our Oni ramblings

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Ever since Aha glanced at you and saved you from the destruction of Izumo, you'd become dedicated to upholding THEIR values. Every day was an opportunity for wild adventures, silly jokes, and lots and lots of laughter.

Admittedly, though, you weren't exactly the best at staying out of danger.

As you look around at the wide expanse of the Herta Space Station, you grin to yourself. Sneaking in here really was a piece of cake. Of course it was. After all, you're the number one member of the Masked Fools! Ah—but Sparkle can't hear you say that, even if it's true. Still... now that you're here, isn't it kind of boring? There hasn't even been a single human that's noticed you or gotten in your way. It's not much of a dare if nothing even happens here.

You could always just spice things up yourself, though. Now that you think about it, all the people here seem practically glued to whatever devices they're using. Maybe that's why they didn't notice you? How annoying. If they're not going to give you the attention you deserve, you might as well mess with them somehow. Maybe by playing with the power supply. A couple of lightning shocks in the right places should do the trick.

Sneaking your way around the station, you happen upon a delightfully vulnerable power panel. Looks like today's about to get a lot more interesting after all.

Purple zaps explode from your hands as they're held in front of you, extending their reach towards the many cords held within. And... bingo! Before long, the light coating the room flickers, then comes to a halt. You can already hear the whiny voices of the station workers groaning and complaining outside, and barely suppress your laughter. Those morons are probably running around like headless chickens out there.

Your glee rapidly turns into panic as you hear voices draw closer and closer. In hindsight, you should've seen it coming that they would check on the power supply after a blackout, but whatever. You're not about to let them ruin your fun.

As the doors burst open and a trail of people walk into the room, voices raised, you turn to them with a blank expression—a perfect replica of the many Herta dolls you saw passing by earlier. Now, the hard part: actually acting like one.

"Oh, it's you, Herta. What's the situation?" Their many faces peered at you.

"Well, uh... it would appear the circuit's fried on this thing. Not to worry, though, I've already gotten it taken care of. Run along now." You pray to Aha that your acting skills are up to the task. Thankfully, whether it's because of your outstanding talent or their laziness kicking in, they readily scurry off. So simple.

If they're that easy to play around with, can you really be blamed for pushing your luck a bit further?

Before long, the entirety of the space station morphs into a sea of chaos and confusion. People being sighted in two places at once, Herta dolls malfunctioning and saying strange things, and all the while, the lights remain woefully nonexistent. Laughter burst out from you as you hid yourself in one of the many vacant rooms. Oh, if only Sparkle was here to see this masterpiece you've created. Space station? More like a total trainwreck!

"What's so funny?"

Your body stiffens. That voice... it sounded vaguely familiar, yet you couldn't quite place it. The blood in your body pulsed violently through you all at once, as if it recognized the danger you were in before you could.

"I said, what's so funny? Is it the blackout you caused, or perhaps you find pretending to be my dolls amusing? Come on now, don't make me wait for an answer."

You may not be the best at staying out of trouble, but you could definitely tell when you were in it. Something about her voice made your blood run cold with its power alone.

Wait, her dolls?

This is bad, like reaaaally reallyreallyreally bad. How could you mess up so badly? You could've sworn your reports stated that she was out on some business trip and would be gone for a whole week. All you wanted today was some nice, harmless fun. And now here you are, very much going to be harmed by none other than the owner of the station: Herta herself.

Okay, well, you'll just have to improvise a way out of here. Somehow.

As the clack of a moving boot hits the ground, you too glide across the floor. With one of your trusty kanobos in hand, you cut through the air in one swift motion. Herta, untouched by the weapon, smirks at you.

"Not today, sweetheart."

She lifts her arms to swing her own weapon at you. As you two make eye contact, you can't help but laugh at her idiocy. She's even more of a fool than you are if she thinks that's all you've got up your sleeve.

Herta's eyes narrow at you as she processes your reaction, or lack of the expected one. The questions running through her mind are quickly answered by an automated voice. Its robotic tone echoes through the dark room.

Detonating in 3... 2... Now.

Before Herta can even react, a loud series of bangs rushes out from the kanobo—or more accurately, a cheeky toy kanobo Sparkle made for you that dispenses a bunch of adorable fireworks if you swing it hard enough. A real shame that you have to leave it behind as a distraction.

You only hope you can make it out of here before she catches up with you.

Surprised screams of passersby ring in your ears as your legs slam into the ground faster than you've had to make them in years. A couple of Herta dolls even try to get in your way, blocking you off, but you manage to maneuver through them all the same.

As you make a final turn, you see it; the exit is right up ahead, looking grander than ever. Despite your rapid breathing and strained limbs, this was heaven to you. A truly joyful end to your adventure, filled with fun, energy, and a couple of vibrant fireworks. Just one more step and—

Your vision goes black for a second as vibrations flutter within you. Why... why aren't you running anymore?

"Pathetic. Did you really think that you could escape me, the great Madam Herta?"

Those damned boots strolled over to where you were sprawled onto the cold floor, calm and melodic as ever. Her form slowly crept into your hazy field of vision, with her hovering over you like a vulture. You grimaced. You were so, so close. Or maybe you weren't, after all. Maybe she had been the one toying with you all along.

"Let's go over all of the problems you've caused me today. First was the blackout, then a series of poor acting. Oh, and how could I forget having a bunch of fireworks blowing up in my face?"

Still in a daze and with your consciousness waning, you could hardly keep up with her words. Pieces of her flowy hair draped onto your body as she crouched next to you. Was this the end? After all you suffered through just to get to this point, an impulsive dare was what sealed your fate? It was so pathetic, so dumb, you couldn't help but giggle to yourself deliriously.

"I assume you're done with playing dress-up. You know, now that your horns are on full display?" Her fingers glide down one of them smoothly.

"Ha! So tell me, oh great Madam Herta, what do you got in store for me next? Some kind of torture or execution?"

She hummed in response. "I was considering that, but..." Her lips brushed against the exposed skin of your ear, making you shiver.

"You'll be a lot more fun to play with."

[the-pigeon-queen]

You draw a lot of soft big brother Primo and for that I'm super grateful but like, do you have any art/ideas for unhinged Primo who wants to punch pandas and invade countries and all that? Just curious 👀

Sorry for the long delay :'] I’m sorry I don’t currently have any doodles or art of unhinged Primo, but that doesn’t mean I’m not plagued by Primo thoughts.

The big disclaimer here is that this is all personal headcannons; I’m the type of Ghost fan that generally wants to follow the cannon, but also, you know, is more than fine with adapting and extrapolating a few things… So, all this is about my Personal Primo conjecture lol

Everything we’ve ever gotten about Primo in cannon paints him as batshit crazy, but somehow fandom morphed him into a much gentle figure. And I honestly enjoy both sides and think he can be both :’]

Like… Primo loves his little brothers, but hates humans. He grows a beautiful garden but anticipates the day it will be destroyed in Armageddon. He makes tea blends with the same precision he would conduct a sacrificial ritual. He curls up in an armchair next to a cozy fireplace with an ancient tomb on demonology in his lap. There is a non-zero amount of dead bodies in his garden, feeding the flowers with their decaying flesh.

And he believes there’s something beautiful about that; the cycle of life and death, the miracle of life and the necessity of death.

Primo hates the government and he hates society; he hates humanity. He believes it to be corrupt and evil – and looks forward to the day that it reaps what it deserves. It also means that he doesn’t have a lot of personal objections to doing ‘evil’ things, himself.

I do not think that makes him a complete monster (because completely chaotic evil characters aren’t that interesting to me). Primo doesn’t go out of his way to be cruel.

Like, Primo has no qualms with sacrificing a goat or lamb on the alter, but wouldn’t kick a puppy. Primo wouldn’t hesitate to kill a man if he deemed it necessary, but he’s always kind to children. He would burn down a government building for fun, but he wouldn’t burn down a family home. He would absolutely have a reporter abducted because the Clergy kept badgering him to do interviews, but would see to it that the reporter had lunch.

Now – the Ghost Project.

Primo had no interest in it. He looked at his father, who he hates, and the flashy, rock n’ roll lifestyle, and quickly decided he wanted nothing to do with it. But he wasn’t given a choice in the matter. He does come around to aspects of it, though. He realizes that music can be a powerful tool to lure people into the Ministry. He realizes that he can influence people with music.

He commits to Ghost; writing songs and performing, singing Satan’s praises. His time as frontman is dedicated to his dark lord. Primo does not want the Ghost Project to be about him – he wants it to be about the message, alone. So, he tries to stay anonymous. He tries to stay separate.

But the people want a rockstar, they want interviews, they want personalization. And the Clergy pressures him to give them that. So, he breaks down and gives them interviews. Primo is old at this point – old and a little bitter. He doesn’t give a shit about the interviews.

So, he gets exceptionally high, sits down, and decides to have some fun with them.

So yeah, sure, he’d hit a panda in the face with a brick, but he wouldn’t do it for free – like, $500 bucks would do it. And sure, hell, he’d be down for some world domination, why not? Sounds like fun. Also, yeah, you know what, his d!ck is 13 inches long, write that down, it’s important. His Ghouls sit there in silent agony while their leader rattles off whatever wild bull he happens to think of off the top of his head, and he’s having a blast watching the interviewer get more and more uncomfortable.

And then his time as frontman is over, and he gladly turns over the Mitre to his little brother and returns to a quiet life of blood sacrifices and quiet gardening.

[darcyolsson]

as someone entrenched in the fandom for too long... would you mind sharing your insights as a newcomer what you think the most fascinating or insane things you 911 fans are doing👀 the things we believe or talk about like normal that as an outsider with media literacy are wild to you

BUCKTOMMY!!! bucktommy. going online and seeing that the main two sentiments are "bucktommy are soulmates forever" and "tommy is the literal devil and he needs to die" was truly baffling. before starting the show i thought buck and tommy were for real a good couple, you know, kind of like a compromise: we won't show buck in a queer relationship with eddie, but we can show him in another functional gay relationship. reader, this is not the case. they're SO messy and obviously not actually good for each other and i LOVE it. tommy got buck basketball tickets for their 6 month anniversary even though buck notoriously really hates basketball. this is obviously extremely painful to watch. however thankfully he's immediately upstaged by buck getting him NOTHING. they're perpetually in a terrible boyfriend-off and i'm obsessed with it.

needless to say i'm really confused by how few people (in the main tags at least) share this sentiment. the bucktommy soulmates camp are watching his show with their eyes and ears closed, the tommy devil truthers do not know how to have fun. they're obviously not going to be endgame on account of the show emphasising how much they do not work over and over again, but i'm going to have great fun while he's here. the only way i can really make sense of this really extreme divide is that it's is more about fandom wars than it is about anything happening in the actual show, i understand getting so annoyed by a certain group of shippers you become even more annoying about your own ship. this is a fandom tale as old as time. but then it's made weird again by the show very obviously not wanting you to see buck and tommy as a particularly functional but still educational relationship? it feels like there's a very clear message being sent and everyone has turned their phone off.

speaking of shipping, the way y'all talked about it i really expected buddie to be heavy subtext throughout the entire show but at least for the first 6 seasons i barely saw it if i'm honest! i know more about the behind the screens lore now which has made it make more sense, i know for s5/6 the showrunner was very anti-buddie, but until the swich to abc i didn't really read their relationship as particularly romantic (except in s4, which i recently learned was supposed to be setup for canon buddie s5 until it was shut down by fox)

also this goes without saying but starting the show i 100% expected buck and eddie to be the main, if not most interesting characters, but i honestly didn't care much for them until s7 😭 in general the degree to which tumblr ignores virtually every other character is....... well it's not surprising at all but. you know

ALSO . i feel like tumblr heavily misrepresented eddie to me. i knew him as tumblr's darling so i kind of expected him to be a morally upstanding man. finding out he's pretty much the only member of the cast who keeps consistently doing lowkey evil things was an incredible reveal. i have to confess i didn't really like him at first because of it but then grew on me, not because he's a better person now or whatever but mainly because he's taken his annoyingness to pure derangedness. like, being in the US military and treating your girlfriends badly? boooo. you suck. cheating on your girlfriend with a woman who looks exactly like your dead wife and then doing a little dead wife roleplay with her when she shows up at your door having cut bangs? genuinely what the hell is wrong with you i want to watch 10 seasons of this

it's also why, for once, i do in fact believe in the "this male character who's dated loads of women is actually gay" propaganda, because eddie keeps taking a sledgehammer to every single intimate relationship he has except buck, who, lbr, essentially functioned as his romantic partner at several moments in the show. initially i thought it was just a Tumblr Shipper Way Of Viewing Things that but as it turns out it's actually a really reasonable interpretation. my bad!

funnily enough my entire opinion of buddie remains unchanged. before i started the show i thought "it would be nice if they went canon, and there's a real possibility, but given the way these things usually go i wouldn't bet any money on it" and i still feel the exact same way. yes season 8 seems to be obviously setting up for it. however i've seen this before many times and every single time the outcome was queerbaiting i fear........ so net 0 buddie. i do like them, i'd love to see it, but i've been hurt so many times i do not have it in me to hope </3

tl;dr no one on this website understands tommy like i do and i dont even care about him and eddie might be a little bit evil but i like it so it's fine

[sonnet-of-skalitz]

The World Turns Around Henry (Part III)

(Henry and women, through Hans Capon’s eyes. And sometimes not only women…) (fleetingly nsfw)

For the second time in as many weeks, Hans found himself skirting the edges of a banquet, feeling more like an imposter at Trosky now than he had when he’d stood at the gates in a dead man’s rags, shit running down his face, the laughter of those two cunt-faced guards ringing in his ears like a deafening bell.

“We’ve heard such wild stories of your short time in Trosky. Come, Sir—tell us the truth of it,” that Bailiff Goatfucker or whatever his name was had volleyed at him—nearly the first thing he’d said, after the introductions. The captain at his side had barely attempted to stifle a snort.

Hans had forged through the eye of the storm to stand here, in the heart of von Bergov’s castle, in a noble’s finery, in his own colours, and these ignorant, backwater lordlings and toadies were still laughing at him. Was it little wonder that he had slipped that trap as soon as possible and since stuck loyally to this corner?

“I’m sorry, Sir, but Lord Capon did nothing wrong.” Hans’s ears pricked up as they did when he heard his name being spoken across a crowded room, and at least this time it was from Henry’s lips he fell. He was safe there. “It wasn’t his fault.”

The momentary surge of satisfaction—see? You see, you buffoons, how highly my man regards me? Perhaps you made an error in judgement, eh?—quickly fell, sinking into something bitter and, Christ, so tired. Since when had Lord Capon of Pirkstein fallen so low that his bodyguard must fight every battle for him?

Fucking hell, but it was a dull affair, this, wasn’t it? A roomful of old, fat men, all friends, all puffed up and boasting of their future achievements to come in the march tomorrow. There wasn’t even anything pretty to look at. A serving girl might flit through here and there, but the girls at Trosky were no great beauties. That Katherine lingered longer than the rest, and she was comely enough for a woman of her age, but even if Hans had felt inclined to forgive her for her part in his calamitous misfortunes, she was an icy one, under all the fire. Let him inside just to snap his pizzle in two, most like.

The one female guest in attendance, the esteemed Widow Johanka of Zhernov, was a testament to the frightful dearth of feminine charm in this godforsaken place—flanked as she was at all times by men teeming for her attention.

“Shall we have a chat, bonny lad?” she called out to Henry, drawing him over even as Hans had just raised his hand to gain his notice for himself.

Hans tutted and turned his head, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Is the future Lord of Rattay sulking like a little pigtailed brat?” Hanush would’ve said if he could see him now. Thank Christ none of them could see him now.

He watched from afar as the two conversed. As Henry’s voice grew a little louder, his posture loosening and his arms extending in little gestures, it became clear that he was regaling the honourable widow with tales of his daring deeds—and she was eating it up, leaning forward on her elbows with her hands clasped. Rolling his eyes, Hans made a note to chastise Henry over that as soon as the lad was loosed from her clutches to his.

You’d better not be using tales of my string of tragedies to woo women, he’d tell him.

But when Henry finally stepped away from the table, Johanka went with him—led the way, in fact. Hans watched incredulously as the two disappeared out the door into the night, then gaped around the room.

We’re just letting that happen, are we, gentlemen? There were some uncomfortable looks exchanged, but no one leapt up to chaperone. It wasn’t Hans’s place to interfere, so he stayed where he was, casting uneasy glances toward the door until it opened again and she stepped back inside, alone.

They hadn’t been gone long, though it had felt longer. Certainly not long enough for anything more risqué than an ill-advised kiss under the moonlight. Maybe a flash of tit if Henry had been lucky, the dog. And where was Henry?

“Lord Capon,” came a voice from the side, and Hans catapulted himself into an upright posture to face—oh, what was this one’s name again? Something beginning with an O. “I hear you’ve had quite the journey to get here.”

Supressing the urge to throw the man out the nearest window, Hans swallowed his forty-thrice swallowed pride once more and prepared to answer the same handful of tiresome insults-disguised-as-questions all of these smug sheep-fucking arseholes had for him.

When he finally managed to escape, Hans was done. He was done with this night, and he was done with waiting for Henry to notice him. He’d seek the slippery little fucker out, himself.

But when he stepped out onto the wooden walkway under the inky sky, Hans didn’t find Henry alone. At some point, Black Bartosch, von Bergow’s loyal hound, had managed to creep out there too, and something in the way the two of them leant forward, overlooking the courtyard below, hips pointed away but heads leaned in close, stole the voice from Hans’s throat.

“—the talk of the castle, impugning our dear, shy Lady Johanka’s chastity like that.” Bartosch’s tone was teasing, and it drew a little laugh from Henry.

“Shy’s not the word I’d use,” he said, shaking his head, smiling.

“Nor any man in that room—not with a straight face.” Bartosch drew another laugh from Henry, and Hans’s fingers curled so hard the fingernails bit into his palm. “Still, nice to have some company on the eve of battle, eh?”

“What about you and the local womenfolk?” Henry asked him with that twinkle in his eye that spoke to some kind of mischief. “Got your eye on anyone?”

“Come off it! I’d rather have a drink with you,” von Bergow’s man said, and the words were innocuous enough, but the way he and Henry held each other’s gaze told Hans that he had missed something in them.

“I think I know what you’re getting at,” Henry all but whispered, and there was a boyishness in it. Something naughty, and unsure.

“I have some good brandy in my chambers. If you’re tired of the feast…”

Henry didn’t answer for a long time. When he did, he spoke the words like a secret. “The night is young. But… maybe later?”

Bartosch leaned in even closer, close enough to brush their shoulders together. “I’ll be happy to wait for you.”

Hans hadn’t realised he’d stopped breathing until he was forced to take in a big gulp of air, and the two of them turned to him with ashen faces.

Henry’s shoulders slumped just the slightest bit when he saw it was Hans, but von Bergow’s so-called fearless bodyguard was still every bit the helpless hare facing down the hunstman’s arrow.

“I’ll see you inside,” Henry said to the pale wretch, patting his shoulder once in permission to flee—and flee Black Bartosch did.

The two of them finally alone, Henry looked at Hans like a cowed dog, head lowered and eyes up. Hans crossed his arms, unfurling his fingers, nails slipping out of the deep crescents they’d dug into his flesh.

“I’ve had enough. I’m going to bed.” He forced his voice to lift into a vague approximation of nonchalant imperiousness. “But don’t you forget to stop by the smithy for my sword and armour, and fetch some wine from Katherine for the ride tomorrow.”

Henry blinked, as if that was not the thing he’d been expecting Hans to say. Hans, himself, hadn’t been sure what was going to come out of his mouth until it had.

Haltingly, Henry said, “I’ll take care of it,” narrowing his eyes as he tried to discern… something from Hans’s expression.

“Good night, blacksmith’s boy.”

Keeping his face pointedly oblique, Hans dismissed himself from the conversation, turning on his heel and heading off to bed. He felt Henry’s eyes on him until he was inside, then Black Bartosch’s as he strode through the room and out again, to his chambers.

It wasn’t until he was alone, safely alone, in his guest accommodations, door closed and locked behind him, that Hans let out a noise that was more whimper than breath, bringing his hand up to his mouth and pressing it there until it stopped shaking. There was a roaring in his ears. He blinked, but his vision only blurred further.

Good for Henry, making a friend. Good for them both, finding something to distract them on a night like this. They’d drink the fellow’s chambers dry, then probably visit the baths together, take a couple of pretty bathmaids between them and have a grand old time. Perhaps drink some more there, exchange stories of hitting various men over the head with their big sticks, or even spar themselves one last time—that was Henry all over, that was. Offer him a fight and it was like ten birthdays all at once for the single-minded lout. Then they’d bid good night and go their separate ways and— and—

“What the fuck?” Hans muttered, looking down at himself, half-hard and starting to tent his breeches.

Undressing, he went to bed feeling sick. He put a hand on his cock, but squeezing it only made his stomach turn harder.

Hands at his side, Hans fisted them in the sheets and tried to calm his breaths. Oh, how he loathed it here, where nothing made sense, and everything felt bad all the time. The sooner he concluded his business with von Bergow and took Henry home to Rattay, the better.

[gifti3]

right now i seem like im normal but i promise you that im not

[seafoam-taide]

everyday i see evidence that there is a robot in inscryption and everyday i go i wish i could see the robot in inscryption and everyday i do not continue to play inscryption

[pendragora]

Our fandom whines about the lack of nuance and critical thinking, but then fails to comprehend the complexity of human emotion when it comes to seeing something you like being ruined or executed poorly

[unproduciblesmackdown]

as ever like: no two things Need to be juxtaposed, much less like material vs material deathmatch Only One Can Be Good, much less am i thinking i have thee objective word on fuckall b/c who does and it's like perfectly boring & unserious whenever someone just throws out Takes that are just "i think...[xyz] is [adjective]" like okay.

but anyways thinking of how, though differing in execution in a lot of ways ofc, deh & bmc start out in a v similar place & explore a journey to self-acceptance from a despairing starting point....it feels like a lot of the hindrance in deh's exploration of its own Theme there is in like, hey. :) hand on your shoulder. it's okay b/c you'll be able to be more normal. whereas w/bmc it's that it's okay b/c you'll be able to be more abnormal

[writingpostmidnight]

i am so fucking mad at my mom

[coffecub]

sometimes I think I'm over my football thing that I had between roughly 2014-2019, but then out of nowhere during the start of the season/during the winter months I get a random burst of interest back?

[lastofthe20thcenturygirls]

I WATCHED THE BATTLE AT THE GARBAGE DUMP HAAAAA