#and how despite all the shit they're put through they still come out

[zepskies]

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.

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⋆˙⟡ Coming to Tumblr/Ao3 on 3/23

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[befuddled-calico-whump]

This is a genuine question: I know you enjoy lady whump as you have some characters that are female and are whumpees. I enjoy it too, sorta. Truth is that I feel guilty.

I know it’s kinda problematic to see lady whump as taboo and immoral but I can’t help but feel like it’s wrong, I come from a country that HATES women (shocker all countries hate women but I mean mine has a huge femicide problem) and I know how stupid I sound “I can’t feel but it’s wrong” like duh it’s whump! But I honestly don’t know how to get over those feelings, it hits too close home.

My question here is did you ever got those feelings of guilt and if you did, how did you get over those?

It's understandable to feel guilty at times, especially when creating or enjoying dark content (and especially if it's something that hits close to home)

Initially, I had some reservations about lady whump, since in mainstream media, violence against women tends to be a sensationalized thing that exists for shock value or to motivate the male lead in some way

(it's worth noting that the media has a history of doing this to trans, gay, and otherwise queer characters and non-white characters as well)

Initially I was squicked out by the idea of lady whump because I was so used to seeing it through that lens (not to mention, as you've said, the real-life examples)

However, I've seen again and again that whump as a genre tends to handle that material well (with all genders, not just females). Instead of the shock value, whump focuses a lot on the emotions, how the harm affects the character being harmed, and more often than not gives that character a fulfilling recovery arc

Personally, that's what shifted my opinion on it

Even then, if it's something you're uncomfortable with, you're not at fault for avoiding or disliking it. It all comes down to personal preference, and whether you'd like to explore it more or just stay away, it's your choice, and you shouldn't need to explain yourself (/gen)

[yume-no-miya]

look i love making sae be the one who's so in love and showering hajun with so much love and affection but it's much more fun to think that HE fell harder than her

[gaywineauntsstuff]

I love the idea of Dick being all the Batkid's favourite sibling but in violently different fonts.

Jason: Dick and Jay canonically have a pretty solid relationship but i'm partial to the Jason was around for Dick's rebellion stage and so Dick doesn't think he has to worry about the pedestal thing bc Jason has absolutely seen him violently hungover before he was legally allowed to drink font of this

So by the time Jason comes back and is no longer trying to murder Tim (except psychologically) Dick decides... Well he's evil sometimes but also I can finally tell someone all the Titans drama. So him and Jason meet up like once month if they're in the same city and get progressively drunker while shit talking their teams and Bruce.

Also I hate the Dick and Robin!Jason didn't get along. They absolutely did, Dick was like 0.5 seconds away from taking Jason to live with the titans permanently.

Tim: 'Oh Jason is Tims Robin, Oh Dick betrayed Tims trust.' in the name of the orange dude y'all elected twice W R O N G. Tim Drake used to watch VHS tapes of the flying Graysons routine. He wasn't even a batman Stan first. That came after he saw Robin do a quadruple summersault. Tim is a Dick Grayson fanboy first Person second. Like Tim canonically saw Jason die and went lmao skill issue, imagine not being like Dick Grayson i'm better. When Dick first started training him, he'd consistently excuse himself go to the other room, hyperventilate over Dick Grayson teaching him how to train surf. Dick is not just his idol he's also a pretty substantial part of Tim's support system. He calls Dick when he's going through something or is stuck on a case. And he knows that Dick will always have his back. They have like the unrealistic adorable sibling relationships from Tv that don't exist irl. Tim also does that awkward shuffle thing after fights bc they're still siblings and Dick just pretends the fight didn't happen until Tims calm again

Damian: You have to understand Damian thought he'd have to basically do the league all over again. He lands with Bruce and those ideas are soundly rejected and he now has no trust or respect and he has to adjust. And Bruce is doing his holier than thou, you should know better 10yro who literally was brainwashed as a child act, like Tim didn't have to pull him away from straight up becoming a villain and Dick didn't have to put him in his place with his fists a couple times a year (we love Bruce really). Then Bruce gets Time-streamed, Tim runs away and now the circus freak is BATMAN. Except the circus freak is also a sadistic bastard to criminals, despite being made out of marshmallows to you. Dick hangs people upside down off high buildings for information and cackles as Nightwing. He also listens to Damians worries and helps him deconstruct his bias view of the world. Dick canonically set the standard for child heroes and is among one of the most beloved and trusted heroes despite being marshmallowy and refusing to murder people. Dick is kinda like Damians stand in non pretentious moral compass until he learns his own one later on. Hence why Damian adores Dick Grayson more than anyone really.

in summary support my agenda that Dick and Jason are gossipy drinking buddies, Tim absolutely had a Dick Grayson Shrine as a child and Damian calls Dick to double check that he still cannot kill Timothy (its now entirely a joke.... mostly)

[viennacherries]

okay hi sorry i need to talk about the lucanis romance for a moment and why i think it's absolutely perfect. spoilers below the cut ofc

so obviously there are a limited number of romance scenes. i really do believe in the case of lucanis' romance this lends itself to telling his story.

we learn through party banter with him and emmerich that his relationship with rook is his first. and that's not suprising really, he's an assassin. he faces death constantly and aside from the fact that he could die at any moment, being in a relationship gives his enemies a weak spot to exploit. love and the weakness required to accept and give it is a risk he cannot afford in his line of work.

then you add on the fact that he's been in the ossuary for a year. he was definitely sure he was never getting out of there. and then he does but he's possessed.

so here's rook. and they're flirting with him and being all enticing and he thinks they're great. but he doesn't deserve love and he certainly can't risk it. he's an abomination, he'll put them in danger. and what happens afterwards? when he goes back to taking contracts? it only takes pissing off the wrong person once for rook to be in danger. so he mostly just talks around it. tried not to think about it or aknowledge it.

and then spite breaks through for the second time. and there's rook. again. and they're soft and understanding and kind and they remind him that under everything else, all of the trauma and the fear, he's human. they make him feel so safe and he starts to let his walls down.

we can't know for sure why he pulls away in that moment, but i think it's because he reminds himself how dangerous it is for him and for rook. he wants them terribly but it's such an awful no good idea so he drags himself away.

but he still cares for them. he makes them dessert and he keeps them safe and eventually he has to admit to himself that they're not just friends anymore.

and then rook is taken into the fade by solas.

he never tells rook, you only find this out in a bellara romance, but rook is in the fade for weeks.

all that time, lucanis is there and he's just full of regret. because holy shit he's fallen in love with them and now they're gone and he should've just told them. he should've held them like he wanted. because now he can't and he never will again.

and then they're back.

and he comes into their room and his words are so simple.

"i never thought id see you again. i thought id lost you"

and obviously the rest of his dialogue can vary in this scene but all of it is SO weighted if you consider the fact that he really did think they were dead.

"i do. i know how to feel."

"it's one of the things i love about you"

"i'm not going anywhere."

he is in LOVE with them and he's tired of fighting it. he's tired of pretending he isn't. he's tired of denying himself of what he wants because he's scared. because ultimately he did lose them, despite how careful he'd been, and it hurt just the same.

"i know how to feel." because he DOES now.

so in the last battle, before you fight elgernan, he tells you again just how much he loves you. how he'll do anything he needs to to be back in your arms when it's over. because those weeks without you were torture and he never wants to do that again. he wasted all that time terrified to hurt you but you got hurt anyway. why keep pretending? why keep denying himself the person he wants more than anything in the world? he goes from 0-100 because this is so much more real now. there's so much to lose.

"i've assumed you knew my heart because it beats for you. it's been beating... when i wanted you. when i was afraid to want you... tell me this ends with me asleep in your arms and i will kill any god you ask."

this one sentence conveys EVERYTHING. all of his longing throughout the game. how long he has loved rook. he didn't say it because he was afraid. but he's not afraid anymore.

so much of lucanis' romance is about subtext. it's about the things he doesn't say rather than the things he does.

i think it's absolutely beautiful.

[mytheoristavenue]

Thinking about how Incel!Gytaro difers from your other boyfriends sexually.

I feel like once he's finally given a chance, he clings to the title of incel, even if he's no longer involuntarily celibate, and his mindset is changing. It's part of how he identifies himself and it'll take a long time of building his confidence to get him to stop self deprecating.

"Why would you wanna fuck me? I'm just a gross incel, girls down even touch me." While you are in fact, touching him. "Y-Yeah, cum all over this ugly mug," While you're riding his face, tugging his hair and helplessly grinding.

I also feel like getting to his early twenties without even a kiss or shred of attention has left him lacking two things when you finally do give him a chance. Tolerance for any kind of stimulation, and a refractory period. He has neither, and if he does, they're both incredibly low. This means he'll cum as soon as he starts to move inside you, but he doesn't really have to stop between orgasms. Despite his lifestyle, I think he's actually a bit of a gym rat, so he also has a good amount of stamina. He's going at it for hours and he's cumming multiple times, each load is going to be bigger than the last, already being larger than most guys you've been with.

"A-Ah, n-no, baby, be still- gonna! F-Fuck, I came again, I'm sorry..." While he's already cooling back down and putting it back in.

He's so inexperienced but he's so eager to learn. He has no idea how to kiss you, but once you show him how, he's all over it. He's a great listener, despite his stubbornness, obsessing over your every reaction and trying to figure out what he did to instigate it.

"Shit, what'd I do? This? You like it here? Like this? Ahh, that's it baby, you got it." While trying to decipher what he could have possibly done to pull such a pretty moan from your lips.

I think he's down to try anything at least once, especially after you get him away from that red pilled mindset. Pegging? Well, let's talk about it first. Taboo kinks? Send him links, he's so curious. The only thing I can see him really not being into is cucking, but he might come around if you letting him cuck someone else first.

"Fuck, you're into some weird shit..." While scrolling through your followed tags on Tumblr. " Well... shit, I'm down, let's go."

[transformers-spike]

"Cybertronians reacting to getting kissed", in which kissing is not something cybertronians do as an act of affection, so they're completely new to the human concept of kissing to express romantic love. Talk me one Knock Out who is so versed in wooing but doesn't know two shits about human kissing, and finding himself kissed for the first time. Or Starscream who's gonna freak out. Or Megatron who doesn't even know why you're smashing your intake against his

This is such a good question, anon, I've been rotating it in my head for a while now

Knock Out is well-versed in the drag and frag technique. He’s probably one of the youngest members on the Nemesis, still old as balls by our standards, but some rebellious youngin’ by theirs. He’s all about sliding in with a smooth pickup line and buttering you up until he reaches the “let’s get down to business” level, where he starts flashing his biolights in a “come hither and frag me” display. When it comes to human kissing, he’s… improvising to say the least. He’s seen humans make out in a wide variety of drive-through horror movies (many with questionable acting), and while he doesn’t “get” why we do it, he does his best to lean into the act and find what makes it so pleasurable by our standards. When you do kiss him for the first time, he’s already been hyping himself up for months, and whatever smoothness he tries to apply immediately disintegrates because oh fuck, your lips are so small and he has so much to give. He’s absolutely suffering despite the confident front he’s putting up. After fumbling the bag, he’ll ask you how he did. “Mid,” you’re tempted to say. But the hopefulness behind those smug optics stops you in your tracks. Starscream must have had a very confusing interface life even by Cybertronian standards. But there’s no way he didn’t get frisky back when he was Air Commander of Vos, even if the workload was immense. Although that’s probably the most action he got in his entire life, and even then the closest equivalent to “kissing” by their standards is merging EM fields and hoping for the best, a careful manipulation of wavelengths to fall into perfect sync. We humans do not possess a hyper-developed EM field, which is enraging for Starscream because what do you mean you smash intakes??? Mass-displaced or not, the only fluids he accepts in his intake are energon and transfluid, thank you very much. Kissing is a bad idea, and you’ve learned it the hard way, so good job! Now you have to deal with his drama queen ass acting like you just spit in his mouth. Worst thing is, he is interested in trying it again, but with his stipulations (aka watching him fail to figure out how to kiss you). He doesn’t even fail in a funny way, he’s so bad it’s concerning, you’re half tempted to contact Knock Out and blackmail him into sending you Starscream’s medical file.

Megatron was… surprisingly abstinent back on Cybertron. Yes, he’s been around for a long time. Yes, he used to be a gladiator at some point. And yes, it had its perks, but he was always more of a “sensitive spark” than a typical casanova. He had more important things to focus on at the time (mainly surviving the pits of Kaon and, before that, not offlining in a freak mining accident). Honestly, who knows what he did as a politician, whatever freakiness he had going on while trying to depose the government is none of our business and I am totally not typing this with a fusion cannon to my head.

He’s been through so much; fought countless beasts and fellow gladiators, avoided assassination attempts and blood-thirsty mutinies while leading a millennia-long war. Nothing can surprise him anymore. Yes, you’re a weird little freak for smashing intakes with him, but you need not fear for your safety. He’s… intrigued by your display of affection. You can mumble excuses all you want, but you’ve smashed intakes with him and it can’t be undone. Watch out for those sharp teeth and prepare a tetanus shot just in case. You have to deal with the consequences of your actions whether you like it or not, especially when he’s got a claw under your shirt and another down your pants. Your lips are bleeding and you pray it’s an accident, if he gets a taste for human blood you’re done for.

[alchemistc]

Part One

They don't tell anyone. Not about the marriage certificate, at least. Buck comes back from his conference with a new-old boyfriend and money exchanges hands despite protest from the losers that Bobby had inside knowledge.

(He did not.)

They put the rings away. They talk a bunch of shit out that they'd only skimmed the surface of on the patio of that dingy bar.

Buck buys him that beer.

Finally.

Things are - things aren't easy. Buck skips ahead in his own mind and desperately backpedals before Tommy notices (he hopes). Tommy continues to be tight lipped about things, goes with the flow more often than he should and absolutely hates being called out about it.

Eddie is slow to readjust to having Tommy back in their lives.

With Chris back, he swears up and down he believes Buck that they're both serious about this, but he invites Tommy over less, doesn't involve him in Chris's life as often. Buck tries desperately not to let Eddie's hesitancy inform any of the feelings bubbling in his chest, any of the half-formed futures in his head.

Bobby calls Tommy and they go out for coffee and Tommy spends a week pretending to be so fucking fine about whatever they talked about that Buck starts baking again.

Tommy's abs get a little less defined.

Buck takes him to a gay bar, because they never did that before, never explored anything that wasn't just the two of them, never talked about the community or the history or the impact of being queer. The first time someone approaches their spot at the corner of the bar, Tommy seems to be trying incredibly hard not to read into any of the reactions Buck is having, and failing miserably.

But the thing is. The thing is Buck did this on his own. Petty, unhappy, Tommy's words swirling in his head, he's tried a few dozen times to find another person remotely as appealing as the one at his side, and they'd all fallen short.

When the guy asks Buck if he wants to dance Buck blurts out words before he can think about it that he's absolutely certain are gonna send Tommy spiraling. "Appreciate the offer, but I'm here with my husband. We're celebrating."

The guy blinks. He's young. Younger than Buck, slim and attractive, dark brown eyes and light brown skin that glows golden even in the crappy bar lighting. His gaze darts almost eagerly between them, like he's seeing something he hadn't expected. Something hopeful blooms in his gaze, and Buck - oh.

Buck gets it.

That's a lot of weight to carry just for existing in the world and trying to snatch some happiness from it.

Buck smooths a hand over Tommy's knee and smiles at him, something soft and settled that has been harder to find this time around but still curls up against his spine like it belongs there.

The kid buys them a round and leaves.

"What are we celebrating?" Tommy asks, and Buck pretends not to notice the way his thumb is rubbing over the bare patch of skin where Buck had slid a ring, a few months ago. He's not freaking.

"Whatever we want," Buck says with a shrug, and doesn't mention that neither one of them have brought up the marriage certificate tucked away in Tommy's safe since they got back from Vegas.

---

"The Abby thing is still weird," Buck says, breath heaving as Tommy rearranges Buck's legs and tucks himself into Buck's side. They'd spent an evening talking candidly about their exes because Buck can't understand how they went six months without realizing.

Tommy's hands shift through the hair Buck stopped shaving the first time Tommy admitted he preferred it to the baby smooth skin Buck had tried desperately to maintain for the first four months. It's just now feeling normal, after so many years of keeping it smooth.

"I think she'd freak more than you did."

"I managed to implode a six month relationship with my freak, Tommy."

Tommy chuffs a laugh. Slides his calf up and down Buck's lower leg, and despite the fact that Buck has a few more notches in his belt that'd had that same scritch of hair against his, Buck relishes the feel just because it's Tommy.

"You had help." He pauses, though, tips his chin and tucks it against the give of Buck's shoulder. "I'm not implying her reaction was particularly homophobic, but - I think that was the worst part, for her. The fact that I hadn't just lied about how I felt. It was - she assumed I couldn't feel it."

Buck can't help the brow raise. "Tommy, you're a Kinsey six."

"I still loved her."

He's been working his way through romantic vs sexual vs platonic and learning a whole hell of a lot in the process. He gets Tommy's point. He's thrilled that Tommy is still in a sharing mood. It's just -

Tommy shifts, noses into Buck's underarm. Breathes deep, and Buck has to fight the urge to shove him away.

"If I'm totally off base here tell me, but I think you loved her like I love Eddie."

Tommy narrows his eyes. Contemplates. "Tell me again how jealous of his hair you were when you met," he decides on, and shrieks when Buck digs a finger into his ribs in retaliation.

---

They fight, and it's thrilling.

They never did that before. Minced their words and apologized and let it all drop away but never actually let it go, and when Tommy gets on a roll he's bitchy as hell. It drives Buck insane. He wants to wring his fucking neck. He wants to take him to the mat and actually learn enough about Muay Thai to stand a chance lasting two minutes. He wants to throw him against a wall and jack him off until he sees stars.

"He wouldn't do the same for me, Evan, so why should I bother?!"

Tommy's dad is dying. According to Tommy, it's days or weeks, not months or years, and Tommy had said it so emotionless that Buck had jokingly tried to check him for panels and plugs and wiring. Tommy hadn't appreciated the robot joke.

"Screw your dad, Tommy! Do it for yourself."

"I'm not like you, Evan! That bridge burned a decade ago. I don't need - ." He pinches the bridge of his nose. Grimaces and sucks in a breath. Usually that means he's yanking back words he knows he'll regret. Rearranging them in his mind until they're less likely to sting. "I don't want a death bed reconciliation any more than I want to be proven right about him."

Buck takes two weeks off to help Tommy plan the funeral.

Tommy tosses the contents of the urn into the ocean two weeks later, and when Buck asks about it, Tommy gives him a shifty look, like he thinks the answer might send Buck running. "He hated the ocean."

It's the last time they talk about his dad, for a while.

[porcelaininkpot]

Miscellaneous D.A.M.N Crew Headcannons Volume Two >:}}}

Gavin always takes an extra long time to shower because not only does he have a fifteen step self care routine, he gets distracted by his reflection and admires himself for so long he takes twenty minutes to even start.

Damien works himself so hard he loses track of time completely and can't tell the difference between night and day. Once, he started getting ready for an early morning class and was almost out the door before Huxley emerged from his room and told him it was 11pm.

This concerns Huxley to no end, so to keep him grounded he'll come up behind Damien at random times and murmur the time and day in his ear. Its developed into an affectionate habit and he does it even now despite Damien being much less harsh on himself.

Up until meeting Freelancer and the crew, Caelum had never properly written anything before in his life. He still doesn't really have any need to, but Damien insisted that knowing how to read and write was a basic skill anyone should have regardless of whether or not they actually need it. This was said while he gave Gavin the most atrocious side eye.

As a result, he taught Caelum how to write, and his handwriting is less text and more doodles, he replaces his As with stars and his Os with spirals and uses exclusively pink glitter gel pen.

Damien was once having a terrible day and in the middle of a mental breakdown realised it was the birthday of someone he hated and got so offended and mad he snapped out of it, stopped breaking down and made himself have a good day out of spite.

After Lasko left, his parents erased all traces of his existence and had another child, a girl. Their parents were so scared she'd turn out like him they put her through unimaginable restrictions and didn't let her have any freedom. Unfortunately for them, she turned out to be a water elemental. They didn't take it well. She's now currently a teenager on the run and neither her nor Lasko know that the other exists.

Being around Caelum makes Lasko remember how much he always wanted a little sister of his own.

Freelancer once tried to put their little sister up for adoption.

Huxley has shoulder length hair that he almost exclusively ties in a half up half down look.

Dear loves drawing on other people's hands.

Lasko loves having his hands drawn on, but only when it's Dear doing the drawing.

They both do it to relieve stress.

Huxley is the only person alive that makes Damien feel comfortable enough to loosen up and just exist. No stress, no worries, no thoughts, just how much he loves and how much he's loved.

Dear is scarily good at poker.

Freelancer once tried to learn tarot but the first reading they did on themselves called them out too hard and they dropped it out of spite.

To this day, Gavin thinks platypuses aren't a real animal.

Damien has actually met Avior, it was at the library and they got into an argument over who got to check out the last copy of Pride and Prejudice.

The DAMN crew once went to the beach and got super competitive at sandcastle building. Huxley and Freelancer won against Gavin and Damien while Dear sunbathed, enjoying watching them fight.

Lasko was off elsewhere trying not to lose his shit at the sight of Dear in a swimsuit.

Huxley has freckles.

Damien has dimples.

Freelancer's favourite coat once tore, and Gavin seamlessly stitched it up. It was as if the tear never happened in the first place. {He used shibari knots}

Dear has the best handwriting out of the entire crew, unfortunately their cursive is so intricate and elegant no one can read it.

All demons have markings and designs across their bodies naked to the human eye but visible under uv light, similar to scorpions, they're a reflection of the demon's soul and naturally, unique to each demon.

Gavin's marks are smoky and wispy, trailing over his long limbs to form the most ornately designed hearts. They glow a deep pink under neon light and he loves showing them off at clubs.

Caelum's markings are bubbles and clouds that float around his body and change shape. His are bright yellow and blue and he didn't know he had them until Freelancer got him an invisible ink pen with a uv flashlight attached.

Freelancer has a uv tattoo of Gavin's wispy hearts across their own sternum, curling up to one soft heart right above where their own beating heart lies.

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign Down on Me - Part 11

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

A/N: Thanks everyone for sticking with me 💕

-🐺-

“So, Pup, now that we’re acquainted I want to start the session by doing a quick check in to see how you’re feeling. For the first few visits with my clients, I usually like to provide a sheet just to help you express yourself properly. So I’m gonna give you this and then once you’ve made your selections we can talk about them and I can answer any questions you have. Don’t be afraid to pick as many as you need to!”

You stared dead eyed at Dr. Beale, already plotting a bloody murder attempt on Price; one befitting of the betrayal that you felt by being subjected to a therapist with all her gentle tones and well meaning smiles. She appeared nice enough, dark coils of hair twisted into a bun, a bright watercolour patterned dress, a small pair of black rimmed glasses; she could’ve passed for a school teacher honestly. 

You decided you wouldn’t be fooled by her outward appearance though, plenty of people could put on a good front afterall. She was probably going to play mind tricks on you. That’s what everyone said about therapists, right? She was going to find out about the things you resolved to tell no one about…

Besides, It wasn’t fair! Surely everyone in the team had their shit to deal with. Why were they allowed to romp around and continue with normal training while you’d been dumped into the quacks office? An office beckoning secrets to march out in the dreary reality of it all. 

The room itself was painted a now worn yellow with a bobbly carpet across the expanse of it that looked like it was about to match the walls with just a little more foot traffic. Despite that, Dr.Beale had clearly tried to make her best effort to cheer the place up. A string of fairy lights glowed behind her across the wall, illuminating the colourful art that was pinned up all over the place. She’d stuffed a few pot plants by the one window that did its best to shine a little light into the room, and from your puffy old armchair, you could just see a ‘plant mother’ mug sat at her desk to the left of her. 

Plants and fairy lights or not, you still felt like you were in hell. Waiting to be condescended to, waiting to be told what your feelings are and how to deal with them as if you hadn’t been managing yourself your whole life. Not to mention be shaken down for that one thing you said you purposefully wouldn’t discuss with her. 

“Here you go! Circle the ones you think fit best right now.” 

Dr. Beale finished shuffling through the papers in her hands and reached over to give you the floppy laminated sheet she selected. After that you were handed a whiteboard marker and given an expectant smile. 

You sighed and looked down at the assignment, almost groaning out loud when you saw what was on it. A few rows of cartoon faces greeted you and underneath each was an emotion. At the top of the sheet was a big thick fonted title that read ‘today I feel…’ 

Today I feel like I’m gonna puke up breakfast, you thought. 

For a moment you considered walking out and begging Price to give you one more chance, to drop the whole therapy thing. However once you remembered back to Ghost dropping you off, you let your ears sag against your head and dismissed the idea. The last thing you needed was Ghost marching into the room and getting in the middle of it all. 

Besides everyone had their work cut out for them. That’s what you told yourself. Soap and Gaz had to train, Ghost was at a meeting about the parade and Price was busy fuming over dead end leads and uncooperative guests. 

With that in mind you circled the orange grumpy face that said annoyed, the grey neutral face and at the last minute, also circled the light blue embarrassed face. After your selections were made you handed the sheet back to Dr.Beale and watched as she studied it. Of course when she looked back up at you she greeted you with that same neutral little smile. 

“Ok, thank you so much for sharing that with me. Now why don’t we talk about this a little. Would you like to tell me why you’re annoyed?” 

You bit your lip, undecided if you’d be honest or if you’d try to brush her off. Once you looked into her steely eyes though, you knew she didn’t look like a woman that was going to be easily fooled. Besides, over the time you’d been with him, Ghost had hammered the need to be honest into you till you felt sore at the idea of deflecting anymore. Well, deflecting about most things anyway. 

“I don’t think I need therapy,” you shrugged. “I could be doing something worthwhile right now, training with my team, or helping Ghost, even the gym seems more productive. No one’s ever stopped to talk about my emotions before and I don’t get what use that’s gonna be now. It’s not like any of the others have to take time out to talk about their feelings, why should I be any different?”

“I see,” she nodded. “And is that why you’re embarrassed? You think that being away from your team and talking with me is something to feel ashamed of?”

You nodded. 

“Well, I can see why you feel that way, it’s valid from your perspective, but i think it’s worthwhile remembering that your team have different needs than you.”

“What, you think all hybrids need therapy?” You frowned. 

She laughed a little at that and shook her head. The silence of her pause rang out, prompting you to look away from her and focus on a leaf on one of the plants. You watched it bounce and sway with the slight draft that swept in through the window. 

“I meant that as an individual we have different needs, is all,” she finally said. “We all struggle with different issues, need a little help with things now and then. Can you think of a reason why your captain signed you up for your sessions with me? Is there something you need to work through that you need help with?”

“I uh…” you paused this time, recognising that her tone conveyed that she knew exactly what you were supposed to say, Price had already told her of course. “I…black out sometimes when I’m put to work. I give into my instincts and I stop- stop being myself.”

She nodded, giving you space to add anything else with a gentle smile. It unnerved you. Never in your long career had you ever been given the space to sit and tell someone all your problems before, and only in that moment did you realise how much you could actually talk about if you let the dam break. 

Everything rushed through your head at once, the pressure bursting through your skull and reverberating across your clenched teeth. Your parents leaving you, Maddox torturing you, moments where you had no one to talk to, no one to comfort you, getting practically thrown out of helicopters and Jeeps and sent into the line of fire, sweating for hours in hot climates and assisting aid workers till you passed out, shivering and breathing out fading pillars of steam in the Norwegian mountains because your clothing was in such poor condition, starving in the kennels, begging for medical attention-

“Are you alright? Would you like a cup of tea or some water or something?”

You blinked over at Dr. Beale. Suddenly you were back in your body and you realised you’d been clenching the arms of your chair so hard that your claws had stuck themselves into the puffy lining.

You apologised and asked for some tea in as even a tone as you could muster. 

“When Price reached out, he told me about the instinct driven black outs- said Ghost had been managing you mostly, but that in a recent mission you wouldn’t listen and you almost died,” Dr. Beale said, standing by the kettle you hadn’t spotted before as it rumbled to life. “He also said, despite the blackouts, you’d been enjoying your time with your new team, said your relationship with Ghost was solid. Is that how you feel?”

“Yeah.”

“Care to share more on any of that?”

You had to take a second to process what you were going to tell her. Words weren't flooding to you in those moments. Your mind was still busy turning different possibilities over, sifting through possible outcomes of telling her or not telling her certain things. Was Beale to be trusted, would she actually help you? Why would Price make you speak to someone who wasn’t being genuine in their intention to help? But then how well did he know this doctor? 

“I dunno, the 141 have been nice to me. They all look after me and I like that I get to feel…like a part of something.”

“That’s great! It’s important to have bonds like that in your line of work. It’s hard when you’re a hybrid though, huh?”

“Mmhm, I didn’t think I’d ever have a handler,” you shrugged. “I’m lucky to have gotten Ghost though. He’s been…really nice to me.”

She stirred the tea bag around in the mug a second, the tinkling sound of the metal against ceramic causing your ears to flick. After quickly asking if you wanted milk and sugar, you were soon handed the warm mug, giving your hands something to clench onto. The steam gave you a sense of clarity, reminded you to breathe more. 

“What kinds of nice things does Ghost do then?”

-🐺-

“Get your coat on, we’re heading out.”

You looked up from the colourful pages of your graphic novel and huffed out a sigh as Ghost passed by your room. The day after getting back from Mexico you had been looking forward to catching up on your reading and doing nothing for most of the day. Apparently Ghost had other plans though. 

He was already at the door getting his boots on when you emerged, your ears drawn back and mouth set in a firm line. Your fingers curled into the warmth of your jacket sleeves, waiting on Ghost moving out the way so that you could get your own shoes on. The hall was cold since the heating hadn’t been on and the smell of the recent rain fall had managed to permeate around the door all the while. You liked that smell, didn’t mind that Ghost took a few extra seconds. 

“Where we going?” You asked, only speaking once you started to do up your laces. 

“Out.”

“Why?” You tried again, smiling when you saw his own barely concealed grin in the crinkles of his eyes. 

“Because I found somethin’ you’d like.”

“And what is it I like?” You pressed, ears standing fully to attention now. 

“Asking too many bloody questions apparently, fuck me,” he chuckled.

He ruffled your hair and was rewarded with a growl for his effort. He didn’t back down though. You playfully went to chomp on the edge of his palm, trying to discourage him from messing up your appearance right before going, but he drew his hand back in time before your teeth could connect. Your fangs biting into air.

“Naughty.”

“You started it,” you said with a smirk. 

“And I’ll put an end to it too. Anymore tryin’ to bite me and I’ll bite ya back.”

You folded your ears back in fake alarm, but of course Ghost knew exactly what you were doing and laughed you off. After ordering you to get your boots on it didn’t take long before you were out the door and following him into the car. The destination was still a mystery and Ghost remained stalwart in refusing any clues. It was to be an off base trip, that much was obvious, but to where?

Once Ghost got driving the scenery flashed by like a rolling screen, the barracks houses soon fading to country lanes and then springing back up to houses, then blocks of flats, the familiar route to the city splashing out ahead of you. All the way through the roads, classical music played softly in the background, the dramatic violins willing the road to pass under the wheels faster and faster while the road roared above it all. You liked car rides with Ghost, appreciated that you got to sit in his quiet company while he concentrated on the drive. 

After about a half hour, once day had quickly faded into night like a blinking eye, the car rolled up and up until eventually coming to a stop in a tall parking structure. When you got out of the car, the chill of the air bit your cheeks and beckoned you to come closer into its winds. You peeked over the edge of the barrier, staring down over the solid fencing at the city below with a cautious head tilt. You thought of the many vantage points you’d waited at throughout your life and couldn’t help but wait to be told to track a target. 

“C’mon, Pup. This way.”

Ghost pulled up his neck gaiter, newly ordered for the parade, and marched off toward the doorway. He knew you’d follow. Both of you milling past cars and toward the doors of the shopping centre beyond. Through the frosted glass you could already see the beginning glow of the lights beyond, smell the scattered scents of different shops teas and perfumes and chocolates among the mingling aromas.

“Gonna take me on another shopping spree?” You enquired. 

“Oh yeah, gonna make sure we get you kitted out. Get you all the clothes you’ve been begging me for,” he deadpanned. “Little fashionista.”

His flat voice gave nothing away. Only the crinkle of his eyes indicated to you that he wasn’t serious. It was hard to resist playing along with the bit however. 

“You think I’ll finally get that cowboy hat I always wanted?”

“Mm,” he grunted thoughtfully. “Get you the boots to match too.”

“And a whip?”

“Now that’ll do, I’ve only got so much budget.”

Finally you both entered through the double doors, Ghost holding the door open for you and letting you walk into the warmth first. The twinkling lights were easy to see now, all brightly sparkling amongst the banners that rolled down  from the ceiling, all advertising great deals to be had and fun places to go to. A couple of the banners even seemed to show a few hybrids. You stood for a second to to take them in, still surprised that hybrids were shown on advertisements now, blinking up for a few moments before you followed Ghost again. 

“So where are we actually going?” You huffed, finally falling in line with his huge steps. 

“You’ll see soon,” he laughed.

He waved you off with his hand when you tried to whine at him. It didn’t matter what you threw his way, he was quite content to swat you off like a fly. At one point he started digging his hand into your neck just to make you laugh and distract you from asking any more questions.

After some amount of shoving from each of you, you soon ended up in front of a bookstore. It was one of the chains you were used to going to, the fuzzy purple carpet the same as all the others, the tall stacks of colourful shelves gleaming with promise of adventure, romance and cartoon ass kickings. 

“You were being all secretive about going to the bookshop, why exactly?” You asked, cocking an ear back in confusion. 

Not that you weren’t grateful. However you’d gone to the book shop before with him, it was hardly worthy of being a secret. Ghost was cryptic as ever though. He merely shrugged his shoulders and lead the way inside, already beelining for the graphic novels without any input from you. You followed after him with a shake of your head after. 

With the next three books in your favourite series secured, plus another novel ‘without bloody pictures in it’ at Ghost’s insistence, he took you out of the shop and lead you up to the food court afterwards. The ‘adventure’ wasn’t at an end yet. You stood on the escalator and looked out at the people walking around - all to absorbed with themselves to worry about you, you’d now learned. It wasn’t a very busy night either, as stairs flattened at the top, it was revealed the food court was much the same as the rest of the place. 

“What do you want then?” He asked, stopping at a pillar and letting you survey the floor while he leaned his back against it. 

All the usual offerings filled the place, random Chinese, Italian, and sandwich shops, chains dotted in between them, and of course some random desert stalls. The smells invaded your senses, most tempting you to choose them, until one particular one won out. Pizza.

“I’ll not bother asking what you want on it,” Ghost snorted.

You’d protest if you didn’t know your own predictability. Besides there were more important things at stake than a wrong order. Once you were situated behind a young couple, you couldn’t help diving into your bag of books and pulling out your new book. It’d been a while since you’d read something with full sentences, the graphic novels were too addictive and easy to read after a long day, but this story seemed interesting at least. 

“You’re a nonsense, you are.”

“What? You’re the one that was encouraging me to get the thing and now I can’t read it?”

“Didn’t say you couldn’t read it. Most people just wait till they’re sat down to read.”

“I’m not most people,” you shrugged, shooting him a sly smile and a flick of the ears. 

He didn’t protest that. In true Ghost fashion, he nodded and made some gruff comment about you being a ‘harmless weirdo’ at least. Which, of course, you wouldn’t let stand. Harmless? It would be an insult to let him call you harmless when he knew exactly what you could do. You gave him a flash of your teeth, but were quickly disarmed when he squeezed the funny spot between your neck and shoulder again. 

“Stop doing that!” you whined, slapping his arm.

“But it’s funny,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And you like it when I tease ya.”

“Do not.”

“Yeah you do. Your tail’s wagging.”

“That’s an annoyed wag actually. There’s a big difference,” you said, ensuring you weren’t looking anywhere near his eyes. 

If you had made eye contact you would’ve been afraid that Ghost would figure out you just liked it any time he touched you - no matter if it was teasing or not. After so long a time spent isolated and shoved away in kennels or bunks, every casual gesture felt like another drop in the cup that had been empty for so long. Now it felt like that cup was filling up more and more by the day, and you weren’t sure that there was an end, but knew that the bottom was just a bad memory now. 

The people ahead of you in the line stood off to the side a moment after, and soon you were snapped out of your thoughts and watching the Lieutenant. Ghost parted from you to get the pizzas and pay, quickly reeling off the order and tapping his card on the machine. He motioned his head for you to follow him to the next nearest pillar. His back once again easing against the solid surface. 

“You’re getting better at making shit up. Must be all that reading you’re doing,” Ghost noted, forcing you to remember what you’d just been talking about. “Or too much time with Gaz, cheeky bastard.”

He pulled you into him and mussed your hair, paying special attention to your ears. You whined but it didn’t matter. His knuckles relentlessly went on and built static between his skin and your hair and fur. Even without a mirror you knew that you were going to look a mess. You grabbed onto his hand and tried to separate yourself from the big lump holding you down, but it was no use.

“You’re not funny,” you huffed.

“Now that’s a lie,” Ghost laughed, finally letting you go. “Tails still waggin’ an’ all.”

“What my tail does isn’t any of your business,” you said petulantly.

“Everything you do is my business, Pup.”

“Oh yeah? Why that?”

“Cause you’re mine,” he said, a smile in his eyes while he smoothed the back of his hand across your jaw. 

In that moment, you couldn’t be more glad that he was called to go pick up the pizza, otherwise he might’ve caught the way your pupils expanded like a playful cat’s and the obnoxious speed of your tail. With a gulp and ‘get yourself together’, you walked toward a nearby table and waited for him to bring the food. There was no way you could muster looking toward him without crumbling into an overexcited bundle of nerves. 

“Excuse me,” called a small voice, capturing your attention.

You tilted your head and turned, soon finding the source of the sound. A small boy that had somehow materialised next to you on the bench that you’d chosen, his ears folded back and tail in his hand. At first you wondered where his parents were, worrying about what could happen to a hybrid child that found themselves missing, but then you remembered he’d tried to get your attention. 

“Are you ok? Do you need help?” You asked, still glancing around for a parent or some other family member who he might belong to. 

“No, no I’m fine,” he said, releasing his tail and sitting up tall on his knees. “I wanted to ask you something.”

You tilted your head again and looked him up and down. He was maybe seven or eight, quite tall even while on his knees on the bench, but he was all lanky and fluffy with his small age still. You weren’t much older than him when you’d been sent off to Branhaven. Had you looked so fragile and sweet once?

“What is it?” you finally asked, trying to forget about your own thoughts for the moment. 

“Are you a soldier?” he asked, pointing to the collar at your neck.

“I am,” you confirmed, a smile forming. “Why do you wanna know?”

“My daddy’s a soldier,” the boy shrugged, “he has a collar like that, but he only wears it when he has to work. Are you working?”

Now you could only frown. His father was a hybrid? And a soldier? It raised a few different questions for you, namely how could he have had a child with the lifestyle he led, and furthermore how could he be present when he’d be bound to a handler. Had you felt it appropriate, you would’ve thrown a thousand questions at the boy, but instead you answered him. 

“I’m not working,” you said. “I just don’t like taking it off.”

“Why?”

“I feel like I’m naked without it,” you shrugged.

The boy giggled at your answer, his bushy black tail wagging with delight. He was thoroughly impressed until Ghost walked over, sticking your pizza down and giving you a questioning look. Then the boy cocked his head, unsure of what to do. 

“Did you multiply while I wasn’t looking?” he asked, eyes crinkling.

The boy smiled again and wagged his tail, clearly sensing that Ghost must be safe. When you’d first met him it had taken a while to convince you of that, but then you supposed in his civvy clothes there was more of a softness about him. 

“Uh, kinda,” you said sheepishly, again wondering about where the kid’s parents were. “He was asking about my collar. Saying his dad is a hybrid soldier like me.”

“That right?” Ghost asked, taking the chair out across from you both. “What’s your name then?”

“I’m Ben Killroy,” the boy said proudly, puffing his chest up. “And I’m gonna be a soldier just like my dad and your hybrid.”

That made your stomach drop. A weight settling somewhere deep in your bones at the very idea of being driven down and delivered off into the same life you were. How long until that little smile washed off his face? A whole day or maybe just a few hours?

“That so? And your dad wants that for you does he?” Ghost asked.

“Well no,” he huffed, his ears folding back in annoyance. “Him and mum told me I’m not allowed to go, they keep saying I have to keep going to stupid school and get an education. Except they can’t tell me what to do once I’m eighteen, so then I can join!”

“School isn’t stupid, you’ll have a lot more fun there than the army,” you said sternly, firmly agreeing with his parents. 

“Ugh, you’re just like my parents,” he groaned, throwing his hands up. “School is crap! You have to sit in a room and pay attention to a stupid blackboard and you only get like… forty minutes outside. Plus there’s bullies that pull your tail and call you big ears in my school. If I went to a hybrid training program then no one would bully me for my tail or ears because everyone would have them! Except my dad says that’s not true and you do get bullied, but then when i ask him to prove it, he doesn’t tell me how its not true! That means he must be lying.”

At that you couldn’t help but snort, wishing you could pat his dad on the back. How right he was. Before you could tell him just how ludicrous the idea of not getting bullied in the army was, Ghost got in before you. Leaving you simmering to yourself.

“You know in the army you have to stay inside all day sometimes, and you have to sit in meetings for hours where you’re not allowed to speak or move?” Ghost said, peering over at you. “Isn’t that right, Pup?”

You nodded at him, watching as Ben narrowed his eyes.

“Why would you have to be in meetings not speaking or moving for hours?”

“Sometimes your handler has to be in them and talk about the mission you were on. You have to be there too, just in case you have to answer questions as well, but most of the time you’re expected to sit quiet and in the same spot without fidgeting- otherwise you get punished,” Ghost explained, nodding toward you. “Pup knows all about that, don’t you?”

“One time I had sit in a ten hour long meeting, and the one time I let out a yawn I got written up for it,” you said, full to bursting with unsavoury experiences you could regale him with. 

“But that’s not fair, ten hours is like…its like basically a whole day!”

“Uh huh, and after that I had to sleep outdoors all night,” you shrugged.

“You have to sleep outside? In the cold?” He asked, frowning deeper now and holding his tail again. 

“Yup. That’s one of the punishments you get the most when you’re in training.”

The boy didn’t look pleased about that at all. Though before he could question it any more a tall woman in a rain coat came by and snatched him by his hand. Not a hybrid, but still she clutched at him protectively and wore a panicked look in her eyes. 

“What has mummy told you about running off in public places, Ben! I went to the play area and got a shock when you weren’t there, that’s not very nice to mummy is it? ” She said sternly, ushering him to her side before addressing you and Ghost. “I’m really sorry about him. He always has to talk to every other hybrid he sees, even when he’s been told not to go wandering off.”

“Muuum,” he whined, ears glued to the side of his head. “You’re embarassing me in front of the soldiers.”

She raised her brows and looked properly at you both, eyes flickering to the collar around your neck and then over at Ghost. Knowing what you were, she seemed to tense a bit more.

“He hasn’t caused any trouble has he?” She asked, wrapping an arm around the huffing boy.

“He's fine,” Ghost said, dipping his head a little. “Was just telling us how he wanted to join up is all. We were saying that there’s no rush, school first.”

“Oh,” she said, relaxing again and smoothing a hand over her son’s head. “Yes, that’s very good advice. Do you hear that, Ben? School first!”

“But dad didn’t have to go to school,” Ben grumbled. 

“Well that’s because he didn’t get a choice, did he? C’mon, we’ve been enough of a distraction to these nice people. Let’s get you home, you little rascal,” she said sternly, looking to you for the last time she went on to say, “thanks for looking after him. You're a good soul.”

With that she ushered the protesting boy away and left you and Ghost to your food. At first the silence lingered between you both like a chasm, both of you digging in to your pizza. You staring off into the distance after the woman, while Ghost looked on at you with a calculating gaze. 

“You alright?” He finally asked.

“Mhmm,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes when he did nothing but raise his brows at you. “I just…I dunno. His mum was scared for him. She cares about him and wants him to go to school…”

Another moment of quiet passed. You chewed thoughtfully on a bit of pizza, barely tasting it, while figuring out what to say. Truthfully you didn’t really know how to put coherent words to what you were thinking beyond, ‘it’s not fair’. The beat of that particular drum almost outweighed all other thought. 

“And his dad… is like me. How does a hybrid soldier have a kid he’s raising?”

“Things have gotten a bit better the last few years. If you met someone and had a kid with them, you’d be given time off and be allowed to stay with them outside your work hours,” Ghost shrugged. “Did you not know that?”

“No… I suppose that never really applied to me till now though. Nobody ever took me off base, so it’s not like I would’ve met anyone.”

Ghost reached across the table and settled his warm hand on top of yours, his roughened thumb tracing the outline of yours. Your ears perked up at that. 

“Well it’s not like that anymore. You’ve got options, and people that care about you,” he murmured, his hand still caressing yours. “Just don’t go runnin’ off too quick. We’d miss ya.”

You smiled at that, a swish working its way back into your tail. The strange look Ghost wore on his face had a wave of giddiness washing over you. If you weren’t mistaken it was almost like…

“Are you jealous at the idea of me going off to live with someone else, Ghost?” You asked, tone light enough that it could pass for a joke. 

He snorted at that and drew back, looking away for a second before returning his eyes to yours. His stare was just as piercing as always. Vats of molten honey. 

“I told you in Mexico, I didn’t like it when you were gone. Feels wrong.”

“But you’d let me go if I asked?”

Ghost said yes. Tone clipped, shoulders hunched as he shovelled his way through another slice of pizza. He didn’t know it, but you smiled then and could hardly look at him as you thought about the possibilities that a lifetime with him could entail. 

“I don’t think I could imagine living with someone else now,” you said thoughtfully. “Not even the others. Especially not Price.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Too scarred after Mexico, the snore levels that man is capable of. I think health and safety should do a decibel test on him,” you said with a grin, watching on with glee as Ghost’s smile returned.

“It’s funny you say that because Price had similar complaints about you,” he said slyly. 

“No he didn’t!”

“Yes he did. Said you were squirmy and all, that you kept trying to shift yourself under his arms till he was cuddling you,” He laughed, pointing his pizza at you. 

“No I didn’t, that’s a lie!” you protested, a full whine breaking out into your voice.

Ghost’s dirty laugh came into full affect then, a full body thing that had your cheeks warming with the sound. Despite feeling mortified at the idea of unconsciously making Price spoon you, the fact that you were back on track with Ghost again couldn’t help but derail your shock. It was another moment of feeling normal, feeling almost human. It had you shaking your head at him instead and finishing your pizza with a little sigh of ‘unbelievable’.

“He didn’t actually say that, but you always do that with me.”

And thus the back and forth continued, the two of you fighting good naturedly while putting the pizza boxes in the bin, then still as you walked to the unknown next location and so finally stopping when you reached the cinema. The big dark lobby encased you, the dim lights making Ghost’s eyes sparkle all the more while he still refused to tell you what the big surprise was. 

Even when you reached the screen and sat in your big comfy chairs, you still couldn’t get the answer out of him, no more than a ‘wait and see’ was given. Not that it mattered to you of course. It had been many many years since you’d gone to the cinema and truth be told you were happy to watch just about anything. The smell of your popcorn filled your senses, while the low lights and quiet conversations lulled you into a relaxed state, drawing you closer and closer to Ghost’s chair next to you until you were leaning your head against the bulk of his shoulder. 

“I forgot how much I loved the cinema,” you sighed. “Thanks for bringing me.”

“S’alright.”

You were quiet a few moments more, watching with rapt attention even at the adverts, noting some of the trailers in your head for later so that you could see those movies later. A comedy that made you full on snort till Ghost was giving you a funny look, and a romance film that you would never confess to Ghost to wanting to see and would find a way to watch yourself, were among the few you’d catalogued away. 

Soon the lights blackened almost completely and any hushed conversations then died down. Your ears perked up when the screen went black and you tilted your head, waiting to read the title of the movie. When the screen showed, you blinked a couple times and tilted your head again. It was… the same title as the graphic novels you read. You frowned and turned to Ghost, waiting to see if your assumption was surely wrong, but the smile that inched onto his face told you otherwise.

“No way!” you whispered ecstatically. 

“Surprise,” he whispered back, bumping you with his shoulder. 

At that point you were sat up straight in your chair, full attention directed onto the screen as the opening music blared on and vibrant colours and shapes that seemed to have been pulled right off the pages of your books were dancing into life on the screen. Characters that you had spent hours thinking about began to appear, lines that you could remember reading and rereading were spoken and it was like magic itself was woven into the world in that moment. 

Ghost’s secrecy had paid off. Perhaps it had paid off a little too well - for hours after the film you were going on and on regaleing him about similarities and differences to the graphic novels, making sure he knew that one of the characters was different but so much better, that the ending of that film would lead to the next few comics in the series, that the lore of the world was worked into the film so well while covering the 3 books that it was based off. At times he would sprinkle in some questions here and there, but mostly you hit him with your full analysis until it probably felt like to him that you had seen the movie twice together.

Once you’d gotten home and into the bathroom, delving into your nightly routine, something in your chest simply wouldn’t let you settle into your own bed. Everything in you vibrated like a spring that needed to bounce, so much so that after trying to read the same line of your book five times, you admitted to yourself that you couldn’t get back into your routine after the day you’d had. And so you did the only thing you could think to do. 

Creeping into the hallway, you padded downward until you reached Ghost’s room, perking an ear up and listening for any sounds of sleep. Even with your superior hearing you couldn’t really make out much, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t already knocked out.

“Ghost,” you said, hoping your voice would pierce through the door just enough to hear. “Are you asleep yet?”

A moment passed. 

“Did you have another bloody thought about that movie?” came his bleary reply.

You grinned to yourself and opened the door, revealing Ghost propped against his pillows and sitting on his phone with the dull lamp on. His hair was fluffy with static, and his eyes betrayed his tiredness. Contrary to you, he looked like he could fall back and rest the second he could. 

“It’s not about the movie,” you affirmed, closing the door behind you and settling onto the foot of his bed. “I just wanted a minute.”

He grunted over at you, continuing to finish up whatever he was doing on his phone. You clutched your knees in your hands, in the meantime, looking around at all the familiar cracks in the wall and bits and pieces on the floor. It was warm that night, but even so you curled up into something small. 

“Come on up then,” Ghost finally said, chucking his phone to his bedside table before lifting up the sheet. “Might as well get comfy.”

Even worming your way into his sheets felt like a hug, his scent spilling from the cotton as if you were pressed in close to him. However, you remained across from him, propping yourself up on an elbow and looking up at him like a worshipper to a god. His pale chest was revealed now that the covers had shifted, and so while you stared at him your eyes lingered there while your mind whirred, not really sure what to say. 

“I wanted to thank you again for today,” you finally said, looking him in the eyes. “And I wanted to say that I really appreciate everything you do for me. I don’t think I ever would’ve been able to come up with anything like this if you’d have asked me where I’d want to be months ago and I just wanted to say that you’re amazing. I’m not sure what I did to deserve all this, or you, but I’m really glad I got to.”

He blinked syrupy slow and kept looking at you with an easy smile on his face, now turning to meet you in your sideways position. Ghost’s heat now began seeping into you, your heart rate thumping as he pulled you into his orbit. His own pulse danced in your ears and soon you were hypnotised by it, just looking his eyes while he looked into yours.

“You’re too sweet,” he murmured, reaching out and stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’m glad you had a nice night. Though I’m not someone that you need to worry about deserving, darlin’.”

“Yeah you are,” you said breathily, smile growing.

In a moment of impish fun, you turned your head and pretended to bite his thumb, fastening your two sets of teeth around it and letting the points of your canines graze against his skin. He raised his eyebrows and used his other hand to grab your cheeks, giving you a warning squeeze. You let him go, but his grip still remained on you. 

“What’d I say about you biting me, you little shit?” he said, good humour still written on his face.

“You said you’d bite me back,” you shrugged. 

“Wouldn’t want that now, would you?” he grunted.

“Maybe I do,” you smiled, raising your eyebrows at him again. “What then?”

He shook his head, his teeth on full show from his smile. His full face seemed to glow like white gold, the lamplight casting its rays onto him. Things moved slow then, he got closer to you, breaking the space between you until he was pushed right up against you, releasing your face finally, but still keeping you pinned with arm against your back. He watched you carefully, and you stared right back, breathing slow but expression alight. 

“Feels to me like you’re after something else now,” he said as fact, you both knew it. 

Even if he didn’t need a response, you nodded slowly. Your heart was pounding like a train in your ears, body rattling with stray energy now that you were in a position you’d thought of only in daydreams. For a little second of panic you wondered if this was him about to admonish you of thinking such things. Though he didn’t let you worry long. 

“You sure?” he asked, voice thick with something you couldn’t explain.

“Yes,” you whispered.

He bit his lip, the scar there tightening with the action.

“Ask me.”

“What?” you frowned, shifting back and feeling his hand press into your back. 

“Ask me for what you want. Go on,” he said, an indescribable look crossing his eyes. 

“You want me to ask you for…” you trailed, waiting for him to interrupt, but he didn’t. “I want- for… you to kiss me.”

He chuckled at you stumbling on your words.

“You what now?”

You growled out a frustrated sigh and turned your face into his pillow.

“I want you to kiss me, alright?” you snapped, words muffled in the fabric. 

At that he ushered you out of the pillow and brought his lips to yours. His mouth hot and firm against yours as every little cell in your body seemed to dance. His hands gripped your waist, making sparking little fires dance across your nerves and his body pushed into yours once again. He allowed you to come back into your body, continuing to kiss you gently, until eventually your lips moved with his and soon enough opened so that your tongues could meet. 

A few seconds later and you were parting. Finally catapulting out from a stupor you soon opened your eyes and met his searching ones. Ghost breathed heavily, but then so did you and for a few seconds neither of you said anything. You simply weren’t capable. Your lips felt like they were tingling still. 

“You alright?” 

-🐺-

“Pup are you alright?” Dr. Beale asked, her worried expression dragging you back into the room.

Only then did you realise your chest was pounding and you accidentally squeaked, feeling as though her gaze was seeking out forbidden information. You cleared your throat, pretending that was all you were doing the whole time, and took a sip of your tea, thinking back to the last thing you’d told her.

Of course you’d regaled her about your trip out, about meeting the boy in the food court and going to your movie, however when it came to going home. You figured you’d skip that part. Instead you looked off into the room and shook your head. Your body dispelling the last paranoid nerves that told you she was psychic and knew your every thought. 

“Sorry… I just had a weird dream that night was all. Anyway, basically Ghost is really nice, yeah. What else did you want to know?”

[bellaxgiornata]

Because I've been sick almost nonstop since September, I decided to make headcanons this morning for all of our men about when they're sick that absolutely nobody asked for. So below the cut are some of my thoughts on how Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Jax Teller, and Michael Kinsella would act/react to feeling under the weather and being taken care of.

Matt Murdock

Matt would never admit to being sick when he first started coming down with something. Doesn't matter how many times you called him out on it, he would play it off like he's just fine. "Sweetheart, you know I don't get sick."

Despite your protests, he'd still throw on the Devil suit and go out at night running around on the rooftops trying to keep Hell's Kitchen safe, even if he's got a runny nose and the beginning of a sore throat - and his Devil voice would be even more painful to put on because of that.

But in the morning when Matt woke up, he'd be a miserable mess. He would become a full on baby Capuchin monkey, wrapping himself around you in bed in search of comfort almost immediately. And when he'd hear you open your mouth to tell him "I told you so," he'd stop you with his nasally, "Don't even say it, sweetheart" before he buried his face against your neck and groaned in agony.

And he would be in agony because of his heightened senses, but he'd also be a bit disoriented when he really came down with something. The illness symptoms would mess with him - head/sinus congestion would throw off his sense of smell, taste, and hearing, all things he's used to using in order to navigate the world around him. On top of all of that, sore throats would feel like he was genuinely swallowing glass, and while he's already used to his whole body constantly being in pain from what he puts it through, the whole body ache from illness would just be another thing to make him desperate for comfort.

Matt is so used to no one caring for him since he's always the one looking out for the whole of Hell's Kitchen, that you'd most likely see a few genuine tears shed as you brought him glasses of water and medicine throughout the day (that he would make the most ridiculous faces at the flavor of). And you'd be subjected to repeated thank you's murmured against your skin because he'd be clinging to you wherever you went in the apartment for the duration of his illness.

Frank Castle

It would always be difficult to tell when Frank was coming down with something because the man would never admit to it. He'd still be waking up at the ass crack of dawn making a pot of coffee and going about his day like usual without giving a single thing away that let you know that he wasn't feeling good. So you'd have to learn the signs yourself - extra tissues suddenly filling the garbage, the sight of him wearing hoodies around the house when you know he already runs hot, showers that last just a few minutes longer than usual as if he was using the steam to clear up his congestion.

He'd deny it vehemently if you called him out on coming down with something, getting a deep furrow between his brows and that particular tone to his voice that always gave him away because it was just too sharp. "I'm not goddamn sick, honey. Stop fussin' over me, would ya?"

And he absolutely would hate it if you fussed over him. Trying to get him to take some medicine? "Don't need that shit. Told you I'm fine, alright?" Trying to take his temperature? You'd have to fight him to put the damn thing in his mouth for at least five minutes first and he'd be grumbling the whole time (and you'd have to keep reminding him to keep his mouth shut so you could get an accurate reading). Telling him to stay in bed or on the couch to rest for the day? You'd catch him out of the corner of your eye carrying a tool box through the house and have to do a double take and tell him to go sit down. "Tired of sitting down, doll, I've been doing it all damn day! "It's been twenty minutes, Frank! GO LAY BACK DOWN!" Bringing him tea with some honey and lemon in it to soothe his throat? "The hell is this shit? You know I only drink black coffee."

Frank is used to just powering through illness because of his time in the marines. His mentality is that he's got a job to do and he's going to do it, he doesn't want to sit around all day taking medicine and sleeping, he wants to be up and taking care of you and things around the house and something so small like being sick isn't going to stop him from doing exactly that.

Jax Teller

Even sick with a cold, Jax would still be stubborn as hell. He'd wake up in the morning and roll out of bed before hopping in the shower with every intention of going to the clubhouse to deal with business for the day like nothing was wrong. Except he'd be moving slower than normal and communicating in strictly grunts and grumbles instead of his usual "Mornin', baby" sleepily and affectionately muttered against the back of your neck which you usually always either heard in bed as he's spooning you when you woke, while you're making the morning coffee in the kitchen, or as you're getting dressed for the day.

The only way you'd get Jax to stay home, take care of himself, and relax would be to out-logic him. "You know I gotta go in, darlin'. The guys need me, I've got shit to run. Can't just take a goddamn sick day, SAMCRO ain't like that." "And what happens when all of the patched members get sick, hmm? Or when all the girls at Diosa or Redwoody get sick and they can't film or fuck? Then what, Jackson? Chibs and Bobby can handle things today."

Jax would absolutely hate having to make the call to tell the guys he was taking a day at home because he's sick. He'd be sitting out on the back porch talking on the phone with a cigarette in his hand, rolling his eyes in irritation as they called him a pussy. But instead of some insult in return, you'd overhear him snap back with "Gotta problem with it? Then I'd like to see you take it up with my ol' lady, brother." And you'd know damn well that would have the guys quieting down because they knew better than to mess with you when it came to Jax's wellbeing.

Despite the fight he'd put up in the morning, Jax would actually love a whole day sitting around at home with you fussing over him. He'd be sprawled out on the couch with a lazy little grin on his lips as you brought him glasses of water, medicine, and soup all day. He'd chuckle warmly and always give you a "I'm fine, darlin', really," but deep down he'd be so goddamned pleased to have your constant attention. And he'd find any excuse to grab you and force you down on the couch to cuddle with him, sighing softly when your fingers gently carded through his hair as he held you close. But you can damn well bet that even sick, he wouldn't miss the opportunity to slide his hand down to palm you over your pants at some point, chuckling when you shot out a "You're sick, Jackson!" and responding with "Never too sick for that, baby."

Michael Kinsella

Michael would be the literal suffer in silence type. You'd know he was sick - he wouldn't deny it if you asked because he'd never lie to you - but he also wouldn't ask for any help. He'd still get up and try to do the laundry and dishes even when you tried to shoo him away to his bed. "M'fine, pet. Don't wanna leave ya to do everythin' fer me 'cause I'm comin' down with somethin'. S'no big deal, really."

He's not used to having someone wanting to fuss over him and care for him because no one in his family ever really has besides Birdy. Trying to take his temperature, bringing him soup that you made, and making sure he's taking medicine around the clock would have him feeling awkward, which would result in him always trying to brush you away because he feels like he's just adding to your list of chores for the day. And if there's anything Michael would hate, it's feeling like he's a burden, so you'd have to repeatedly reassure him that caring for him when he's sick is normal.

Michael would try to avoid you throughout the day as much as possible because he'd be worried about getting you sick, so much so that it would drive you nuts. "Sofa is fine, love. Don't wanna get my germs in the bedroom sleepin' in there." "Shouldn't be tryin' to kiss me, pet. Don't want ya catchin' what I have." "Ya shouldn't be sittin' out here with me watchin' television. I'd feel like shite if ya got sick 'cause of me, pet."

The Kinsellas would still be calling him while he was trying to rest at home and every time you heard the phone ring, you'd feel compelled to pull it out of his hands and tell them to leave him alone for the day. Because you know even sick, Michael would pull himself together to go help with whatever was asked of him for his family. But you would delight in telling them off for his sake - especially if it was Amanda.

[miasmaghoul]

WAHHHH AEON CONVINCING EVERYONE THEYRE HIS FIRST. thinkijg thoughts about omega and aether breaking him in and then hes all virgin to whoevers next and after they go to aether like “why did u not fuck the new guy??” and aethers like i did?? and it all comes out but they keep it a secret to see how long/how many ghouls/papas aeon can get with his bit

I think Aether is his first, and he's enough of a gentleman not to let anyone know. Not his information to share - well except for one night when he replays it all for Dew in excruciating detail, but that's easily taken care of with a little quintosis. No harm done.

Swiss is Aeon's second, though, and he's been enough of an actual first to be able to see right through Aeon's coy smiles and the way he bats his lashes. It's easy enough to figure out who was:

"Can't believe I haven't gotten my hands on you yet."

Swiss murmurs it into his throat, both hands shoved into Aeon's hastily undone jeans. One tugging at his semi and the other curled around his bony hip, Swiss' rough fingers petting at his hole. Aeon's gasping already, still half-tangled in the hoodie he was removing when Swiss shoved him onto one of the hotel beds. This is what he gets for spending all evening - hells, all day, really - being a flirty little shit, he supposes. He licks his lips and swallows hard, putting on his best innocent face; wide, damp puppy eyes, pouty lips, the whole nine yards. Swiss stares down at him like a wolf who's pinned a deer, smile sharp even without his fangs, and Aeon's heart skips in his chest. He knew Swiss would be rough, but this is a thrill.

"Surprised Aether didn't get you first," Swiss rumbles with a twist of his wrist, and Aeon gives himself away when his eyes glaze over.

Swiss isn't even sure if the other ghoul knows he does this, or if the others have caught it, but when Aeon really remembers something he sort of...disappears for a second. Just for a heartbeat, very easy to miss if you aren't looking for it, but Swiss has spent more than enough time with the new kid to pick up on it. It's like he's reliving the moment he's been reminded of in a flash. Swiss wonders if it has something to do with his magick; Omega had something of a photographic memory, maybe Aeon has something similar? He doesn't know.

What he does know, is that when he says Aether's name Aeon does that thing where he goes away for a moment, and his cock flexes so hard they both choke.

So that's a yes, then.

Swiss doesn't say a word, lets Aeon play the blushing virgin because, well, it's not like he isn't into that, and holds him close afterwards. Gives him a bath and orders his favorite takeout meal before they go to sleep. He even lets Aeon be the big spoon.

He calls Aether while Aeon's in the shower the next morning, just to make sure, and the silence when he asks Aether if he knows if Aeon's slept with anyone is so, so loud. Swiss says it's kinda hot that Aeon likes to play pretend, and they both manage to squeeze out a quick one and agree to keep this knowledge to themselves before Aeon's even done in the bathroom. Swiss texts Aether a quick video of him blowing a kiss with his cummy hand, and Aether responds in kind.

After that, I think Mountain is next, but he isn't one to brag. Rain comes after that, but is suspicious about being Aeon's first despite his shy admissions while Rain was between his legs. He finds out for sure via a good ol' fashioned footjob, because Mountain would give up nuclear launch codes if it meant having the chance to feel Rain's toes work the head of his cock. Rain doesn't feel particularly miffed - the kid put on a good show, after all, and good sex is good sex. He and Mountain both think they're the only ones, though, so they agree to keep it between them.

Word gets out after Dew has his turn with Aeon and brags about it to Swiss over gas station coffee a few days later. Swiss, who cannot for the life of him let the little guy have anything, and immediately snorts into his styrofoam cup. Rain overhears them and they all share a knowing snicker (as soon as Dew finishes scowling) once they figure out Aeon's little game. Swiss calls Cirrus over to let her know, just in case Aeon's tried the same thing with her, and she looks absolutely delighted.

"He asked me just yesterday if I would "answer some questions about his body"," she shares, accepting a sip of Dew's hot chocolate. "That he's experiencing some "new things" and has "questions about girls." He was blushing like a whore in church and everything."

The squeak of sneakers on slick tile echoes behind them, and a pair of lanky arms loop themselves between Swiss and Rain's shoulders.

"Speak of the devil," Swiss grunts, Aeon tugging him down to plant a good morning kiss on his cheek. Aeon grins.

"Mornin' Cir," he greets with a nod, ignoring the rest of them entirely. The ghouls share a collective eye roll. "I just talked to Papa, like you asked." If the new kid's tail was out, it would be wagging like an excited retriever's. "He said it's $750 for tomorrow and $1250 for Thursday, but if you need more then just use the black card."

Cirrus gives him a warm smile, reaching across their little circle to ruffle his hair. Aeon beams at her, might as well have hearts in his eyes when she cups his chin and says,

"Good boy, thank you."

Cirrus gives his cheek an affectionate pat, and that blush they've all come to know by now makes its appearance.

"Tell you what - come to my room tonight. You can help me pick out where we stay for the next few nights. I can show you all sorts of secrets," she adds, giving him a slow once over that makes Aeon flush down his throat. "About how to pick the right hotel in these smaller areas, of course," she clarifies, handing Dew back his lipstick-stained cup and straightening her coat. "I might even have the girls drop in and give you some extra hints."

Cirrus winks, and Aeon's walk to the bus is slow and awkward. They all have the kindness to hold in their laughter until he's out of earshot, but Swiss and Rain both have tears running down their cheeks by the time they calm down.

"Don't break the kid, Cir," Dew says through a cough, wiping his eyes. "I have at least one more ticket for that ride."

"No promises," she grins, eyes sparkling. "Oh he's going to be fun."

That night, Cumulus and Aurora have him together, with Cirrus guiding them all through a very thorough anatomy lesson because Aeon is just so new to all this and has no idea what he's doing, please don't tell anyone:((((. And they're all just so sweet to him, so giving, even after it starts to hurt because they just know he must have so much stuffed inside those tight little balls of his if this is his first time!

They pinky swear not to tell anyone that he cries.

[fellominaarcher]

GOT MARRIED - YOO JIMIN / KARINA AESPA X FEM READER

11. Away From You

prev.| next | chapters

We Got Married, entering 9th month

So much has happened since the seventh month of shooting We Got Married reality show.

Despite the fact that the show is currently in production, Jimin and Y/N must continue to fulfil their idol duties.

Y/N was always eager to discuss the girl's confession because she was intrigued by it.

To the point, it bothered her and made her unhappy at times.

Jimin remained silent as well because she was unsure if what she had spoken was the result of alcohol or the expression of her innermost sentiments.

She was troubled by the idea that Y/N would misinterpret it, which bothered her as well.

Following that night and within their eighth month as a phoney couple, the show continued to film as usual. Doing things that married couples do together, but without the sex.

DayDream recently released a single as a thank you to their fans.

Their dancing practise video for the single album had been fully recorded. As the choreography came to a close, all of the girls were exhausted, so they took some time to rest.

Y/N laid on the floor. "Oi, why are you lying there?" Dajeong questioned her.

She was holding her drink in one hand and gently kicking Y/N's thigh with her foot.

The lead vocalist gave her a glance. "Ha? What? I'm tired," she responded and her eyes were droopy.

Dajeong made a disgusted face, "On the floor, you know people literally could step on shit with their shoes, right?" she told the girl in a reprimanding tone.

Y/N rose from the floor and sat on her butt, her arms crossed over her legs

She sighed, "Do you think people tell the truth when they're drunk?" the confused girl queried with a somber look on her face.

Dajeong gave her an odd look while raising both brows. If one's eyebrows can raise above one's head, that would be Dajeong's expression.

She joined Y/N on the floor. "Oh, I remember the both of you were drinking in an episode before..." she brought up Jimin's drunken night.

Dajeong was looking at Y/N with caution, a thousand thoughts racing through her mind.

Y/N slowly nodded her head. "Sureee," she answered in a tired manner.

"Tell me the full story." Dajeong commanded as she was invested in it.

The WGM couple hadn't met in days because filming on the show had been put on hold. They still have regular conversations at times. Due to their increased workload, they seldom ever call anymore.

But somehow they still communicate.

The year was also coming to an end. Many kpop groups will be required to prepare for another year-end award ceremony.

Well, another award show is on the way, making this a busy month.

Everyone put in a lot of effort to prepare, and it was imperative that nothing will go wrong.

The award ceremony will take place today, and the winter season is just around the corner.

Aespa sat in their car, patiently waiting their turn to exit the vehicle and walk down the red carpet.

"They haven't told us where we are going to sit with," Minjeong expressed her sadness with a pout on her face.

Jimin heard of it. "It's okay, it's okay I know you miss Yurim." the leader assured her with a comforting smile.

Ningning faked a cough. "While you are missing Y/N," In between her pretend coughs, she mocked the leader.

She jokingly shot the maknae a frightening glance and she also gave her a goofy expression.

Ningning's gaze averted, "What? What? Nothing!" the maknae exclaimed but she couldn't help but smile.

The cute smile that soon turned into a loud contagious laugh. Typical Ningning. Everybody loves her.

Minjeong had been whining about how she wished she could meet Yurim Daydream again. Because it has been a long time since the two groups have spent time together.

Their car came to a halt outside the entrance to the award ceremony. The girls stepped carefully out of the car and walked slowly down the red carpet.

While doing so, they waved to the cameras and posed for photos with fans or signed autographs as they went.

Aespa members wore opulent, stunning attire that evening that perfectly expressed their beautiful looks.

On the red carpet, they had their interview.

Sadly, Aespa and DayDream aren't seated next to one another this time for unclear reasons.

Jimin frowned at the idea and appeared a little disappointed that she couldn't sit next to Y/N.

The award show was certainly entertaining, watching the junior groups performing and the senior artists killing the stage professionally.

But having to watch all of this without Y/N by her side made her heart sink.

The show's MCs are Jeon Somi and Treasure Asahi, who are currently speaking their lines and making announcements.

Jimin was simply sitting there, staring at the floor. She'd occasionally look up at the top seats, where DayDream sat.

Her eyes were clearly looking for Y/N, and the 'newlywed' would occasionally make eye contact.

Y/N was the first to look away, while Jimin would stare at her face for a few seconds before looking away too. At this point, she doesn't care if this moment is going to be recorded and go viral on the internet tomorrow.

Jimin didn't notice that Aeri's spot had been taken by someone else because she was still staring at the floor with a pout on her lips.

"Look at Somi, she's so pretty. Why aren't you looking at her?" Y/N alerted Jimin loudly enough.

Jimin awoke from her trance, her heart skipped a beat, and she looked in the direction of the voice.

Her mouth was slightly agape, as if she couldn't believe what she had witnessed and she's really happy to be able to be next to Y/N again.

"Last time I checked, I slept with you not Somi." Jimin answered. She fired back.

She side-eyed Y/N and averted her gaze as she forced herself to concentrate on the stage; the poor girl was sulking.

Y/N looked at her with a devilish grin on her face "Did you missed me? Why?" Y/N asked and she just loved teasing the Yoo Jimin of Aespa.

Jimin had a sour expression on her face and her gaze was fixed on Y/N. "What happened to Aeri?" Jimin wondered.

When Y/N pointed above, Jimin immediately looked up to the pointed location and Aeri saw the couple then immediately waving her hand cheerfully at them.

It turned out, Y/N had asked Aeri earlier if they could switch places for a few minutes before their group's performance.

Jimin returned to her own world without saying anything. Externally, Jimin tried to look fine but her heart was messing with her and her body, making her feel strange and electrifying things.

A staff member approached them and informed them that Aespa, DayDream, and Stray Kids were in line to perform next.

Jimin motioned the other girls to the changing rooms as the two idols nodded and rose from their seats.

DayDreams and Aespa walked down the hall together, heading to the changing rooms. Jimin dragged Y/N away from the peers by grabbing her wrist.

They are in the restroom down the hall, and Y/N is waiting for Jimin as usual by leaning against the wall.

Jimin washed her hands for no reason because she's a little flustered with Y/N around and looked in the mirror before approaching Y/N.

Trying to get into her element.

Jimin suddenly showed off her back to Y/N, and Y/N could only stare in utter confusion because she had no idea what she's supposed to do.

"Zip it!" Jimin instructed, she looked over her own shoulder.

She was waiting for Y/N to zip her dress. "Come on wife, pull it up!" she told the younger girl with a hint of authority in her voice.

How Y/N manages to be so composed around Jimin, the literal Karina from Aespa, is still a mystery.

Y/N pulled the older woman's dress' zip as instructed, but she did it deliberately slowly.

She utilised the tiny object to physically draw Jimin close to her while still holding onto the small zip.

She took advantage of the situation to tease the goddess-like woman. "Why are you trying to seduce me now?" Y/N inquired in a deep, quiet voice, almost whispering.

"Weren't you just now mad at me?" Y/N added.

Jimin arched her brow, trying to keep it cool, "Well, because I've missed you." she answered it with confidence.

She had a stern yet seductive and attractive expression on her face. Y/N would never be able to get over her.

Y/N is a lucky shit for having such a view, a literal beauty served before her eyes. The younger idol noticed that her heart was beating in a quick rhythm.

"You look sexy in this dress and really gorgeous." those damn praises.

Jimin simply sneered. She knew the power she had over this girl, "Thank you, you look really good too and attractive tonight." the Aespa leader returned the praise.

Jimin also purposefully left her zipper a little open while on the way to the restroom. They remained in that position for some time, but Y/N had finished with the zipper.

She laid her palm flat against Jimin's back. "I wanna see you without this dress, Jimin," she told Jimin in a deep voice.

While her other arm tightly, almost possessively encircled Jimin's torso, Y/N's fingers gently made their way down her back. The naughty fingers of Y/N's traced their way down to her waist and right thigh. She gripped it tightly.

It's almost surreal how they're already acting like a couple while they haven't exchanged no words of love or devotion.

Y/N's arms left Jimin's body, distancing from the Aespa's member and walking away after successfully seducing the older girl.

"For the record, I miss you more." Y/N halted for a second at the restroom entrance, she turned around and gave Emma a last one observation.

The younger girl walked out of the restroom with a smug expression on her face, leaving the older girl alone.

Actually, the DayDream member was about to combust, about to release the biggest gasp and about to fall to her knee that's why she made her leave.

Jimin was sexually frustrated and she realized it, "I wanted to kiss her so bad just now!" she expressed out of frustration.

The night passed, the award show concluded but SME hosted a small celebration to congratulate the winners.

It meant the two couldn't meet again for the night, and Jimin was going insane because she longed for Y/N and Jimin needed her to be by her side for the whole night.

We Got Married, ending.

They're filming the final episode of We Got Married today. Nobody anticipated it to be this quick. The finale of everyone's favourite programme was approaching.

Their mothers must have enjoyed the show as well.

Y/N was nervous, and the events of We Got Married had caused her to overthink a lot of things.

She had no idea that things would turn out this way after their initial meeting, the garden proposal, the karaoke, the house decorating, the magazine photo shoot, and the drunken nights.

The makeup artist had just completed her makeup, "Are you okay?" Hayeon asked, concerned.

Y/N's group members were accompanying her for the filming of the last episode. The vocalist shrugged it off, "Yes, but I'm a bit nervous." she answered with a weak smile.

"Hey, trust me that it's going to be okay, you know." Hayeon assured her friend.

Hayeon rubbed Y/N's back. "Thank you, my idiot." with a mischievous grin on her face, Y/N thanked.

"OKAY, WE'RE READY TO SHOOT!"

The production team had a surprise planned for the couple. The production team are also renting a local auditorium for this plan. They had all decorated the balcony with fairy lights and flowers, and there was also a table seat for two.

Not to mention a piano too at the center of the stage.

"Okay, ready!" the director gave a cue.

"ACTION!" he gave the command to start working right away.

As Ningning and Aeri assisted Jimin to walk to the intended spot, the camera filmed the scene of her with her eyes covered with a blindfold.

While Minjeong trailed along behind them. The girls carefully guide their leader to the assigned spot.

"Okay, we're here!" Aeri informed as she assisted the girl in untying the blindfold. Jimin first fixed her hair and made herself comfortable while observing her surroundings.

The Aespa leader was taken aback by how beautifully decorated the location was and she let out a quiet "Woah!"

Furthermore, the sun was about to set, and there was a candle on the table to accentuate the ambiance.

"Woah, these are so pretty!" she exclaimed excitedly as her eyes continued to scan the surroundings.

Ningning poked her leader's shoulder and she pointed to Y/N, who was slowly approaching them.

When Jimin turned around to see who it was, her eyes lit up as she saw it was Y/N with a rose in her hand.

For the final episode, the production team suggested that Y/N sing a song to Jimin for their farewell.

Y/N couldn't believe she had to do this, therefore her face was filled with anxiety and a hint of stress. Sadness too.

It's not that she doesn't want to do certain things for Jimin yet she felt nervous and ashamed about singing for her in person.

"Why are you dressed up so well?!" Jimin asked eagerly as she laughed while covering her mouth.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. "I don't look stupid, right?" Y/N inquired, rolling her eyes and smiling.

The older woman was laughing, "No, no, I think you look cute!" she reassured the younger girl with a smile.

Even if Y/N half disagreed and still believed she looked silly in this position, Y/N simply nodded to Jimin's answer.

Minjeong and Ningning gestured for their leader, Jimin, to sit on one of the seats in the auditorium while Y/N was making her way to the stage, to where the piano is.

The rest of Aespa members move back to give the fake married couple a space, joining the production team and we're only watching from a distance.

Half of the light in the auditorium went down, focusing only on Y/N on the stage and Jimin at the audience area.

Jang Y/N took a seat on the piano stool, clearing her throat softly as her heart pounded against her chest. Her fingers hovered over the black and white keys, poised to play, waiting for her cue through the in-ear monitor.

The song began to play. The first key was pressed, and Jang Y/N slipped effortlessly into her professional self - a well-polished K-pop idol, showcasing her skill as the lead vocalist of the girl group DayDream.

"You are a gift, sent down from the sky. In this lonely world, I will protect you..."

Y/N sang passionately, pouring every emotion from her heart into the lyrics. Each note was a confession, each word a fragile thread woven with memories she couldn’t say out loud.

Though her marriage to Yoo Jimin was virtual - performative and crafted for national TV - it was real in a way neither of them could explain. It wasn’t just a show. Every month they’d spent together had been worth it.

Karina of aespa, known offstage as Jimin, sat alone in the front row of the empty auditorium, save for a few scattered crew members filming the scene. Despite herself, she felt the sting of tears welling up. This was farewell.

Y/N fought hard to disassociate from the sadness threatening to spill from her eyes. She focused on the song, grounding herself in the melody, determined to sing for Jimin - not for the cameras, not for the show, but just for her.

But Jimin was already crying. The tears came freely, unchecked. It was cruel, really - how the entertainment industry had paired them for the nation’s enjoyment, only to tear them apart when the final episode is near.

They were both young. Both passionate. And somewhere along the way, feelings had tangled themselves into the script of We Got Married.

For the nation’s entertainment, they’d become a "fake" married couple. But the emotions? Those had been real.

"Even the painful memories I wanted to forget, can be washed away with the raindrops..."

Y/N’s voice soared, rich with emotion - the very sound Jimin loved most in the world.

Y/N played the final notes, her fingers pressing softly against the piano keys as the melody faded into silence. The lights in the auditorium flickered back on, casting a warm glow over the empty seats. She sat there for a few seconds, her hands resting gently on her lap, letting the weight of the moment settle.

In the front row, Jimin quickly buried her face in her hands, trying to hide the tears that had already fallen.

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘

A/N: I used English translation of Sudden Shower.

GOT MARRIED

[002yb]

Suspension with no pay is a generous punishment, given how severely Dick knocks another officer's lights out. He's lucky no charges will be pressed. His 'colleague' probably isn't keen to air the dirty details of his provocations to the police commissioner; to have them put on paper.

Dick isn't too eager to discuss it, either. Just thinking of it tests his temper and his resolve not to tear through the precinct to the infirmary the bastard hides away in; to grab him by the collar of his uniform again and wail on him for being a sick fuck.

Gordon wants an explanation. Because he knows Dick. Because he knows Dick doesn't do shit like this without reason.

Dick keeps his mouth shut. He sets his jaw, clenches his teeth. He wants to scream, but he swallows it down. Looks just over Gordon's head instead, and waits to be dismissed.

He takes his punishment. He slams the door on his way out.

The only thing he wants is to go home, but he doesn't want to bring his bad mood past the threshold. So Dick sits outside, back to the wall, and makes himself breathe.

His knuckles are still red and swollen, but they'll bruise in the coming hours. He picks at split skin, smudging away blood that beads up.

There’s no cleaning up the mess he is, so Dick settles in. Dropping his head back against the wall beside the door. Breathing. Meditating. Glaring off at nothing as he sits, stews, and broods. Hands clenching periodically because he still wants to hit something.

Someone, specifically. Because Dick wasn’t done fucking them up before other officers stormed in to intervene. Alerted by shouts and familiar sounds of a scuffle. Baffled, probably, that good boy Dick Grayson can lose it worse than any of them ever could.

So Dick sits there. For a long time, until he feels numb. Until he can compartmentalize and put all his anger and irritation and hurt behind him. Because he’s not bringing it home.

Not this.

Not with Jason there.

Jason who, after some hours, comes up the stairs and startles at the sight of Dick sitting just outside their flat, quiet and unnaturally still.

Jason who sees the damage to Dick’s hands and the storminess to his expression with just a quick glance, and who takes that ugliness in stride and sits beside it anyway. Because it’s Dick.

Somehow it’s both easier and harder to breathe with Jason there beside him.

Mercifully, Jason doesn't pry. Not yet. He just sits there with Dick, quietly shuffling through the mail he must have grabbed on his way up. Ads, bills, notices.

It's so normal, so mundane that Dick feels winded by it. The easy slope of Jason's shoulders, the quiet contentment in his expression. They're outside their flat, sorting through mail; when they go inside, they'll debate on eating in, going out. They'll talk casework, get distracted by their own banter. They'll go on patrol, come home and tend each other's hurts. And they'll go to sleep together, same as any other day. One of many.

Fuck. Dick looks skyward. Blinks. Breathes.

Then he turns to look down at that pile of mail. Distracts himself with the cluttered ad that shows deals at a nearby grocery that Jason scans and scoffs at or stops to consider.

'Are you happy?'

'Depends who won the fight.' Is the cheeky reply.

Dick snorts, but doesn't comment. Doesn't trust his voice, or what words might pour out of him. Despite the lack of bruises anywhere but along his knuckles, Dick doesn't doubt it looks like he's the one that got fucked up.

Apt. Because to Jason, Dick doesn't look upset - he seems hurt.

And Jason isn't going to badger Dick. Or chide him. He trusts Dick's judgment, his reasoning, even if Jason likes to be contrary and challenge Dick at every turn.

But he's a Robin at heart, always curious. And he's also a street kid in soul, nosy because intel is an invaluable resource. He's also Jason, who worries even if he's prickly about it.

'Must've been fucked to get under your skin so bad.'

The words are there, but they're ugly. Dick swallows them down and deflects:

'Got suspended.'

'With pay?'

'Without.'

'How long?'

'A week.'

Jason clicking his tongue and scoffing about it, but he doesn't care about the lost income. It's a line of questioning to gauge the severity of the fight.

When Jason asks about on a scale of Damian to Jason, how mad will B be about it, Dick can't help the quiet laugh that bubbles up in him. He considers, then shrugs, 'Tim levels, maybe?'

Jason sitting with that, puzzling it over until something seems to click and he grimaces. Because, 'what the fuck would you be fighting over me for?'

Dick can't talk about it: about how an officer implicated themselves in the solicitation of a 'back alley whore,' a child, at the time. Provoked by the picture Dick keeps of Jason as his lock screen. Unable to resist the temptation of mocking, ridiculing Dick 'perfect golden boy' Grayson by going after his boyfriend, 'How much is that running you? Used to be dirt cheap, back in the day.' , 'Gotham's sloppiest seconds, or mine at least. Does he still cry pretty when you--?' Etc. Etc.

So maybe Jason figures it out for himself and makes an accurate guess. Because since Jason came back, he hasn't dealt with the police in any notable way. Not as a civilian, at least.

Jason would know that if someone saw Dick's lock screen and talked shit about Jason's appearance or other superficial bullshit, Dick wouldn't be so quiet about it. He'd be ranting and raving, incensed because he insists Jason is handsome, gorgeous (and it's sweet, because Jason isn't anything to write home about; a fun fight to provoke, some days, if only because Dick gets so up in arms over it).

And if it's not anything to do with present!Jason, that only leaves all the shit of his past, which is...

They haven't talked about it. Jason doesn't doubt that Dick knows, it's just - Jason doesn't want to talk about it.

Just Jason recognizing Dick's kindnesses for what they are. How Dick defended him. How he hurt enough for him that Dick risks it all. And then he comes home and waits outside because he won't bring that anger home like Jason's dad would. And he goes so far as to bite his tongue because he won't corner Jason into talking about shit he doesn't want to.

Just Jason, breathing steady and changing the topic entirely: 'I'm happy.' So happy. Happier than he's ever been. It's jarring, sometimes, how happy he is. Because there was a time when he didn't think he'd be allowed it. But here he is. With Dick. At their flat; a shoddy home, but theirs. Where they'll make dinner together and complain about romance not existing in the kitchen, get outta my way )< ; and where they'll talk circles around case work before they start bantering, gossiping, laughing. And where they'll leave for patrol but still flirt over comms and come back and hide their hurts only for the other to poke at them because they know. And they'll sleep. And it's warm. And of course Jason is happy.

It's a simple life, but it's theirs.

Oh, Jason looking at Dick's bruised hands and feeling overwhelmed at just how happy he is - to be loved and cared for so much. ;////////;

Getting all bashful as he tells Dick again, 'I'm really...really happy.'

And because it feels a little too heavy, a little too raw, Jason would cough and deflect in his own way. Grumbling because, 'Would've been happier with an expulsion, but...' Shrug.

Dick laughing under his breath. Taking the out. 'On my way. It was a 'formal reprimand'.'

Then Jason snickers because, 'Could I give you more names? Speed up the process.'

Which oops. Too dark, too soon. But after the initial grimace is a brittle laugh because wow.

Then something something Jason standing up and offering Dick a hand to pull him up, too. And they go about their routine. When Dick settles down, Jason starts prompting for details on the fight. How fucked was the officer's face? How many men did it take to tear Dick away from him? (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈)

Dick teasing him about it sounding like Jason likes that Dick lost his shit. And Jason owns up to it fully. Of course he likes it; it was for him. (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

Jason makes it easier for Dick by teasing him about it. Taking some of the weight away from it. Because this is how they look after each other. ♡

[hello-nichya-here]

Did Sia insult topic of autism somehow?

Oh honey, it's sooooooooo much worse than that.

Sia wanted to make a movie about an autistic girl that manages to connect to people/feel safe and confident through music. So far, nothing outrageous, just a simple concept that would obviously put Sia's music front and center while doing something nice and educating people on autism.

There was controversy about her not casting an autistic actress as it would have been nice representation, but she could have totally gotten away with that since, come on, hollywood hasn't even figured out Rain Man isn't exactly true to life, they're not ready to have an autistic person playing an autistic character. Baby steps.

The real problem started when Sia started promoting the "charity/support group" that was helping "educate" her on the topic to make the movie. The "charity" in question was Autism Speaks - which is absolutely HATED by the autistic community for things like:

1 - Spreading the myth that autism is a mental illness that one can develop/catch like the freaking flue and potentially be cured of, instead of a neurotype, aka something starts in the woomb and cannot be "cured" because to do that you'd need to replace someone's entire nervous system, which is impossible.

2 - Using that myth to get outrageous amounts of money from people so they "search for a cure" - that doesn't exist and will never exist because curing autism is biologically impossible, AND despite the fact that the overwhelming majority of autistic people don't even want to be "cured" (plus, since said "cure" would essentially mean giving the person a new brain, it leads to the question of "Would I even be the same person, or would that just kill and replace me?")

3 - Using the myth of "We don't know what causes autism" (we do, it's genetic) to, of course, get MORE money from people so they can "do research to find the missing puzzle piece" (if you ever see autistic people complaining about a puzzle piece being used to represent the condition, that's why, it was started by Autism Speak's massive disinformation campains).

4 - Falsely "confirming" things like soy milk cause autism with one of the world's most ridiculous "research", losing only to "vaccines totally make kids autistic, buy MY vaccine instead, guys, I am totally not an unbelievably biased person, it's ALL the other doctors/scientists lying to you. GIVE ME MONEY!"

5 - Pushing the narrative of "autism is inherently a tragedy" to distract from the fact that all the money they waste on stupid shit could be used to help autistic people and their families. Instead, they focus on creating more and more panic, making parents in particular despair even more - to the point that one of their "awareness videos" includes a mother talking about how she wants to murder her autistic daughter and then kill herself... while sitting right next to said daughter.

6 - Promoting ABA "therapy" - which was created by the same guy responsible for the attrocity that is gay conversion "therapy." Both have led to unbelievably high rates of confirmed PTSD and suicidal ideation in patients (victims), and ABA in particular has been compared to literal dog training. Very fitting since it was created by a guy who famously did not believe autistic people truly counted as thinking, feeling human beings, and said as much several times. Despite that, it is still praised by some utter bastards because "it makes the patients act less autistic when they're not crying in the corner or trying to jump out a window"

So yeah, working with these guys is a genuinely horrible thing to do since they're basically a scam/hate group pretending to be a charity - and people were STILL willing to give Sia the benefit of the doubt, since Autism Speak uses all their resources to make sure they're the first thing people see when looking up how to help autistic people.

Lots of Sia's fans, both autistic and allistic, warned her repeatedly, politely, that she needed to supporting them IMMEDIATELY as their goal was the exact opposite of the one she claimed to have - aka raise awareness through an accurate portrail of autism. People were even kind enough to name organizations like ASAN as replacements to help her fix any damage done to the project.

And instead of being a decent human being, Sia decided to cry on twitter about how the mean retar-I mean, autistics were bullying her even when she was so kindly using them for her vanity project.

Because yes, that's how the movie turned out. An unwatcheable piece of garbage, with the autistic "character" being so fucking bad even the people who actively use "autistic" as insulted being offended on our behalf - and of course, she was used just a prop to show how awesome Sia's character was.

Seriously, it was so bad the actress playing the autistic girl was sobbing in between scenes because she knew how it was horrible and she didn't want to insult anyone, but Sia is literally her godmother and helped her career by putting her in nearly all her music videos so she felt obligated to go along with it.

So yeah, fuck Sia and fuck Autism Speaks.

[annwrites]

—exactly what he needs | nate jacobs x classmate!reader

tw: use of a firearm for intimidation purposes, threats of suicide, mentions of domestic violence, implied rape, victim blaming

When you turn on your bedroom light, your body, as well as your heart, both jump in fear as you let out a small scream.

❝Sit down,❞ Nate commands quietly, gesturing toward your bed with the revolver he holds tightly in his grip.

❝N-Nate, what're—❞

He rests an ankle over a knee while leaning back in the chair you have shoved in the corner of your room, facing your bed.

He lowers the pistol as well.

❝I didn't come here to hurt you. I came here to talk, and I'd like for you to listen to what I have to say.❞

He nods to the bed.

❝Sit down,❞ he orders once again, more firmly this time.

You swallow thickly, and fight back the tears that're brimming in your eyes as you pad over to it, then seat yourself at the foot.

He glances down to the gun and shrugs lightly. ❝I knew that this was the only way I'd get you to listen. You refuse to even look at me in class now. I'm being treated like a fucking pariah by everyone because of that goddamn play...❞

He shakes his head while slowly trailing his eyes back up to your own. ❝You were the one good thing in my life. And I did everything I could to make you happy—to make sure we stayed together. Everything was fine before Lexi got in your fucking head that day.❞

He leans forward while sliding the pistol along his thigh. ❝These are the lengths you drove me to. If you had just given me the time of day at school, or when I texted and called you hundreds of goddamn times, this wouldn't be happening right now.❞

❝N—❞

❝I love you. I still love you, despite you walking away from me so easily when I gave you everything I fucking had to give. I told you before that you're the one I'm supposed to be with—that you're exactly what I need to make me happy after all the shit my family, and my exes, have put me through.❞

He stands and takes a few steps closer until he's towering over you.

You scoot back a little, wanting desperately to get away from him.

But in doing so, you've given him exactly what he wants incase you don't act accordingly when he makes you his next offer.

❝I'm giving you one last chance to come back to me. It'll take work, but in time, I think we can forgive each other and get back to where we were just a few weeks ago. My life has gone to shit without you in it. I...❞

He shakes his head, while rubbing his thumb against his forehead—that silver pistol glinting against the light before he lowers it again.

❝I don't know how to fucking do any of this without you anymore. I feel like I can't breathe unless we're together. I don't eat, I barely fucking sleep. I don't talk to anyone, and when I do, I'm just constantly pissed off. All I do is think about you and what I've lost. So, I'm begging you: please.❞

You ball your hands into fists to try and hide the way they're shaking, even if your entire body is trembling in fear of him.

Your chin wobbles and tears begin to slip down your cheeks. You know you have to word things carefully. Don't make him angry, or the white walls of your bedroom will soon be painted red.

❝Nate, this isn't love. This is... It's obsession, I think. I don't... I'm so scared. Please, please just go. I won't tell anyone, I prom—❞

He shakes his head again, glancing away. ❝You don't get it. You still don't.❞

His eyes flit to yours again. ❝Maybe I can make you understand another way, then.❞

He suddenly crawls on top of you and your breath hitches in your throat while your heart flips in your chest—beating unevenly.

You press your head back against the pillows while his heavy weight settles on top of your own, completely caging you in.

This was how it had felt being with him, too: suffocating.

Trapped.

No escape.

Dangerous.

Deadly.

❝Please,❞ you whisper.

The revolver makes a reappearance and you still while you stare at the weapon in terror.

And then he presses it to his temple before brushing a kiss over your forehead. ❝I love you more than anything, but if we can't be together, then I don't want to be. Not without you. I can't anymore. I won't.❞

He cocks the lever back, pulls the trigger, and the gun clicks on an empty chamber.

You begin to sob violently.

❝Please, please, please, please! Don't!❞ You shriek.

He presses his lips gently to yours, despite you cringing away from the intimate gesture, cocks the lever yet again, and pulls the trigger.

Click.

You feel like you might wet yourself.

You've never felt so terrified in your entire life—had not thought feeling this sort of fear was even possible.

Not even when he had hit you those couple of times, then convinced you afterwards that it was an accident, but also still somehow your fault.

He cocks the lever back again.

❝Stop! Stop! Okay, we're together, just stop, please, I'm begging you!❞

His eyes open and flit between each of yours that're wide with fright and filled with glassy tears.

❝Tell me you love me, then.❞

❝I love you,❞ you whimper.

❝You won't ever try to leave again. If you do, I'll kill myself. There won't be any empty chambers next time.❞

❝I w-won't. P-promise.❞

❝You belong to me. Forever. The rest of your fucking life. You'll do what I say.❞

You nod fervently while squeezing your eyes shut, and tears slip along your temples before wetting the pillowcase beneath your head.

You hear him settle the gun on your bedside table then, and you let out a ragged breath of relief while opening your eyes once more.

And then Nate tugs his shirt off over his head.

Your brows furrow when he reaches down and begins undoing his belt. ❝Wh-What're you doing?❞

❝Get undressed,❞ he mumbles.

❝N-N-Nate, n-no. I... Not n-now, please.❞

His eyes meet yours again. ❝You promised to do as I say.❞

Your body is freezing cold and you can't stop shaking. ❝This i-isn't r-right.❞

He throws his belt to the side, then pushes his pants and boxers down past his knees before kicking them off the bed. ❝It's exactly right. This is the only way.❞

❝We... We don't even have—there's no c-condom.❞

He slides his fingers through your hair while gazing down at you. ❝You never had a mother, and grew up with an absent, workaholic father. You won't allow your own child to grow up without both parents. You told me that once. So, like I said: this is the only way I can hold onto you.❞

You feel like you're in a nightmare, like this isn't actually happening. Your mind feels disconnected from your cold, trembling body.

Maybe you're having a mental break. This isn't real. He's not actually here.

Nate reaches under your dress and begins tugging down your panties.

❝No, wait! I can't! I can't!❞ You shout, desperate to get him off of you. Desperate to go far, far away where he'll never find you again.

He slowly drags his gaze toward your bedside table and you turn your head, following his line-of-sight.

He reaches for the gun.

You resign yourself to your fate.

❝I'll do it.❞

With numb, shaking hands, you remove your panties.

Just like always, he's lied yet again. He'd told you that he didn't come here to hurt you, but that's all he's ever done.

At least he's consistent in that, if nothing else.

You should've let him keep pulling the trigger.

a/n: the linked story at the top is what this scene was meant to one day be part of, but i struggled a lot with continuing said story once i published chapter 6, so it's on hiatus until further notice. however, i've wanted to write & publish this scene for months, so here it is!