#and how i think he's afraid to again because he doesn't even know if he can fight

[dammit-tazmuir]

For all the things this fandom refuses to believe and chalks up to John's lies, the thing that baffles me to see so many believe without question is the idea of Perfect Lyctorhood.

Guys. Guys, there is no Perfect Lyctorhood.

Or at best, if there hypothetically could be, it's nothing we've ever seen. Paul is the closest thing and I know a lot of you would not consider Paul perfect. John did not achieve Perfect Lyctorhood, and it wasn't even his idea to claim he did. A quarter of NtN extensively details that he didn't.

The old Lyctors didn't know what Alecto was. John definitely told them more than he would have liked to, because of course she doesn't lie and is too obviously inhuman to hide it fully. But if they knew everything, Mercy wouldn't doubt that Alecto ever had a genetic code; she would know she didn't, or that any genes she might've had were made from John's own blood and bone.

Because they didn't know what she actually was or what actually happened (foreshadowed too by Mercy's "if you had lied about anything else" lines, when actually he did), they drew the wrong conclusion. They assumed something different in his process allowed Alecto to persist. But we now know the truth is that Alecto was simply too big to consume. She didn't die because she was already limitless. This will never apply to another human. But he lets them believe their conclusion because he thinks it's better and easier to talk his way out of than them figuring out the real truth.

It does remain possible that Anastasia and Samael were genuinely on the cusp of that breakthrough, but I honestly doubt it. That was another conclusion drawn by the Lyctors as a follow-up to the previous wrong one, and when John answers, he visibly hesitates. It feels like he's once again going, "....Sssure, yes, let's go with that." I don't know what Samael and Anastasia WERE on the verge of. Maybe they would have become gestalt like Paul, and the possibility of just one dying was why Pal begged Cam "don't look back", and John was afraid of the power they'd achieve (could Paul have greater thalergy than a normal Lyctor?) and/or of just the others seeing a different process and getting mad at him.

AND/OR, ACTUALLY? Especially if their attempt was one of the earlier ones (around the middle rather than the end), but even if it wasn't: I think a Paul situation has a STRONG possibility of being exactly what happened. John's most outright lies are usually the ones other people tell that he just nods along with. When it's from himself, if it's not feigned incompetence, he usually goes for half-truths and misleading truths. He says Anastasia panicked halfway through and if he hadn't stepped in they would have both died. I think it's very possible that John panicked halfway through as he realized what they were doing, and that it's genuinely true they would have both died— in the same way Camilla and Palamedes both died, to create someone new.

And we know how much John hates change. How desperately John needs to keep his specific people close. What are the odds he was so afraid of losing both of them and being left with a new person he didn't know, couldn't predict, and couldn't easily control with them having a whole Lyctor's power and maybe more? Especially if Cyth and Loveday, Cassy and Nigella, Cyrus and Valancy, Ulysses and Titania, maybe even G1deon and Pyrrha— if any others hadn't undergone the process yet, and there was a chance they'd see Samastastia and decide that was the path they wanted too. If he thought this meant he might lose all his friends instead of only the less favored half.

Either way, though, based on everything we know, there is no simple soul swap that results in dual immortality. Even John and Alecto involve a fusion of megasoul. "You and she are one." (This is also likely how a seemingly real facet of John could talk to Harrow in Alecto's dream.) And we've seen through NtN, the soul longs for the body. The body longs for the soul. A body housing a different soul doesn't last long, even when those souls ARE semi connected. A body even temporarily renting space to a foreign soul is a massive strain, like Cam carrying Pal.

Lyctorhood inherently involves death and consumption and acting against nature. It is the indelible sin. It's possible that Grand Lysis avoids that sin by making it about mutual death, about giving instead of taking, but it's still bittersweet at best. I highly doubt we're going to see a perfect solution that fixes everything, at least via more necromancy, because that's not the kind of series this is. It's messy, beautiful in its flaws, embracing the understanding that life is change and things can never be exactly as they were, and can rarely be exactly what you want, and letting go and moving on are necessary parts of life eventually.

Don't misunderstand! I do think Gideon will either be resurrected (perhaps the last true one ever) or there will be another way for her and Harrow to happily be together. In Gideon's case, there was nothing natural about her death, and the decision to say "no" is a rejection of the system that led to it.

I just also think the odds of rewriting the laws of life and death entirely are more likely than Lyctorhood But With No Consequences. It always has consequences. There is no Perfect Lyctorhood, but there's something good on the horizon, whatever form it takes. After all...

"There are more worlds than this. Come with us. We are the love that is perfected by death, but even death will be no more. Death can also die. There's still time, Ianthe. Time for you and for Naberius Tern."

[zepskies]

ehehe I know I'm on the right track if I can make you laugh, Wayne! 😂💜

Ah yes, classic man with his "I'm fine." He'd probably still say, halfway through bleeding to death 😂

😆😆 Dean:

Hahaha such a good point! Hard to argue with that 😆

lol right? If he's not complaining about someone else driving his Baby, then something's clearly amiss. 😂

Yup, and have Sam stich you up with tooth floss, right, big boy? 😂

ahhaha "big boy" took me out, but yeah that floss is really gonna cut it 😂

While she's filling out his form, I had Ross and Joey in my head, too 😂

omg YES, that's the idea lmao. And you found the kidney stones gif!! 🤣🤣 I raise you with:

Awww, yeah ❤️‍🩹 But that's such a good point! Since Dean survived the finale and nothing ever happened in that barn, he has to face his mortality in a way. The "Fuck, what happens when I'm old and wrinkly" phase 😅

Quite literally all of that (glossing over 15x20 like જ⁀➴), and I just like the grounded humanness of Sam and Dean having to deal with the potential resulting health issues from decades of hunting, getting knocked out and stitched back together again, living on the road, etc. 😂

The ending was so wholesome! And I imagined the reader from Midnight Espresso. She was so warm, caring, stubborn, and sassy, too. Totally gave me the same vibes! 😭💜

You know how to get me all warm fuzzy like, friend! loll I'm so glad this made you think of the Midnight Espresso-verse. 🥹💜💜 She's very much all of those things, and like Dean, a natural nurturer, so he has someone in his corner really looking after his wellbeing in the "healthy and cared for" sense. Not just the "ya good?" 😂

Oh, Beau... Not the prostate exam 😂🫶 Btw, I loved how you switched up the different doctors for each of them! The kind of doctor fit their personalities so well too and made it even funnier 🤣

ahaha I thought it was fitting for him!! 😝 Aw thank you for pointing that out! I try to fit each situation with what's best for the character, and on this one I felt like showcasing different kinds of medical situations would be a fun way to do that. For some reason Beau always gets the (hopefully) funny everyday domestic issues 😆

Aaaah, I love that you incorporated this!!! Totally sounds like something he'd do too. Probably Jenny, Denise, and Cassie heard the same thing. He went on about it for days lmao

You've been on a roll recently giving me such good tidbits! lol Omg yeeeees he'd be complaining the whole week of post-man flu, probably even asking Denice if she can spy anything weird down his throat 🤣

Ugh, so true... Been trying to get my husband to go to one (and also been trying to get him to have a weird mole checked out for ten years. The argument: it hasn't changed in all that time, so it's probably fine 🙈😂)

oh my Goooood - men. 🤣 He needs to get that checked out! And isn't/wasn't he a military man? What's he afraid of?? 😂

Dead 💀🤣🤣🤣 (And on a side note: that aspect should be more featured in fics lol)

*snorts* not gonna lie, I was pretty proud of this line lmfao (idk why it's the first time I've referenced that kind of thing - maybe bc I'm not personally turned on by it that much, but I agree that it's a legit thing that isn't focused on as much in fanfic lol)

Oh, I'd make so many jokes when he comes back. Probably buy him donuts and other hole-shaped treats 😆

DEAD. Deceased. 🤣🤣 But I love how your mind works lolll. HC that she "rewards" him by buying him a dozen 🍩🍩🍩

Fuck, Alex... Ben fucking killed me! The fact that you picked a therapist was just hilariously delicious 😂

Girl I haaad to! 😜 Like, he would never go to the doctor anyway because he probably doesn't get sick enough to have to go, but a therapist? He definitely needs that appointment lol (or 12)

So true! I imagine it's hard staying level-headed with this man-child when he throws a tantrum. You almost have to talk louder to get through all of his white noise 🙈

Literally! It's like trying to be heard while a vacuum is going off. 🙄

But I'm really glad you thought his behavior in this was in character lol. He's kind of tricky as a character, but also predictable in some ways 🥲

That broke my heart a little, although it's so true 😭❤️‍🩹

Oh yeah, I broke my heart a little too on that one. 💙 I feel like that would be one of the few ways to get through to him in this situation.

Pffff 😂 Reminds me a little of that Rick & Morty episode where Rick refuses to go to therapy. I already feel bad for that psychiatrist 😆

LOL oh yeah, definitely feel bad for Dr. David on this one. He's gonna get an earful 😂😂

And of course Russell, much like Dean, is too "tough" for a doctor. A bullet wound you say? Nah, totally heals itself lol

Michelle said it in the comments -- there's a reason why women live longer in general lmfaooo

Hahaha I fucking knew she was checking him for injuries! Would've done the same thing 😂🫶 (Also, Russell, what did you expect? Sex? In this condition????)

Oh 100% she was after she clocked the way he was coming in 😂😂 (Russell's clearly an opportunist! 😆)

Again:

You need a hospital not a hardware store, you big idiot!!! God 😂🙈

LOL this comment had me deadd 💀

But he's got pliers! And dental floss! And an old bottle of whiskey in the trunk! (which functions as both disinfectant and a pain reliever: 2-in-1!) 😝

Yes, honestly, please quit. I wouldn't be able to sleep dating that man. What if he never comes homes from a job? 😢😭💔

Right?? It would be so heartbreaking. Ooh or the angst of an "almost." 😬 I actually have a long distance relationship Jacklesverse bingo square that I think I'm gonna have to use on Russell 😅❤️‍🩹

And I'm really curious what her punishment would've been. I'd make him eat veggies only for a month. That would break him 😂😜

lmfao that'll do it! No meat or sweets? He'd break for sure. I can hear him already, half desperation and half his usual self -

"Sweetheart, man can't live on spinach alone. That's how you get kidney stones." 😆

These were all so wonderful and so effing funny, friend! You nail these HC every time!!! ☺️💜

Awww you're amazing, thank you!!! 🥰 I honestly love doing these HCs! It's always a nice little creative reset for me. I'm so happy that you enjoy them! 💕

HEADCANON: Doctor's Appointment

HC: How would Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Russell Shaw react when you try to take him to the doctor?

Pairings: Dean x Reader || Beau x Reader || Soldier Boy x Reader || Russell x Reader

AN: This one is a request from my lovely friend @spnbabe67 over on Patreon! 💜

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, literal man children, medical stuff, angst, mentions of PTSD, hints of spice, fluffff

Dean Winchester

"I'm fine."

Ah yes, the same two growly words you've heard for an hour already.

"You're not fine," you testily reply. "You're not even 'Winchester fine.' You wanna know how I know? I'm driving the damn car right now!"

Dean shoots you a warning look.

One, you can tell he wants to say watch it on how you talk about his Baby.

Two, he doesn't want to admit that you're right.

He shifts in his seat with his arms crossed, trying to cover up a wince. It's the only tell that he's uncomfortable, even in pain, other than the fact that you've managed to hijack his car and take him to this damn doctor's appointment.

Dean can count on one hand the number of times he's been in a doctor's office for a genuine ailment, and not just trying to fish for information while impersonating some form of law enforcement.

That's because he's more of a "pour some whiskey on it," patch it up, and forget about it kinda guy.

And if we're talking about hospital stays, then that's usually a "one step away from death's door" kind of visit.

But when you first noticed something was off with Dean (confirming with Sam on the side of your suspicions), you did your damnedest to convince the man that he should see a doctor.

You even make the appointment for him as convenient as possible, around midday, so he doesn't have the excuse of it being too early to disturb his morning, or too late to mess up his afternoon.

Dean is a grumbly grizzly bear who only rolls his eyes in the waiting room when you offer him the clipboard to fill out his medical history.

"This is stupid," he says. "It’s probably just gonna clear up in a week or so anyway."

"You don't know that," you say. And you heave a sigh. Sometimes this man requires every last ounce of your ever-thinning patience.

You reclaim the clipboard and do this part for him too, filling out his fake-ass insurance information with his fake-ass name.

You detail his history and current symptoms to the best of your ability, and you make sure to jot down certain visits to free clinics in his past that he'd probably gloss over.

When the nurse opens the door and calls him back to see the doctor, Dean still glances over at you, mostly annoyed. But underneath, you sense his hesitation.

You slip your hand into his and get up with him. You grace a kiss over his knuckles — a moment of solidarity — and you go with him to one of the back rooms.

You later have to bite your lip against the vindicated urge to say I told you so.

The doctor informs Dean that he likely has a kidney stone.

If possible, Dean is even more sour the whole car ride home. He's convinced all the vegetables you've been trying to get him to eat are the culprit.

"This is what I get for eating fucking rabbit food," he grumbles. He levies a finger at you. "See? I told you. Nothing good comes of it."

"Right," you snort. "Zucchini is what's got you're, uh, pipe all blocked up."

But seeing the disgruntled look on his face, you remember just how much pain he's been trying to cover up for the past week. How many times you've found him hunched in the bathroom, dreading a piss.

You reach over and try to soothe him, gently stroking his thigh.

"It's okay, baby. We'll get the official test results soon. In the meantime, just keep drinking lots of water and get some actual rest."

"Whatever," he mutters.

But underneath the embarrassment, the shit, I'm getting old bit cropping back up again, and the Dean Winchester quirk of not wanting to be fussed over, not wanting to be seen as weak or ridiculous — what finally surfaces past all that is you.

Specifically, how much you push him to take care of himself.

Besides Sam, you're the only one who manages to keep him in check, the only one who cares that much, that you'd literally try to steal his car.

Yeah, I love you tends to cut through pretty much all the other bullshit.

Dean might not always express it words, but he does it now, taking your hand off his lap and pressing a kiss to your wrist, right over your pulse point.

You briefly take your eyes off the road to glance over at him, smiling. He's going to be out of commission for a while until this little problem clears up, in more ways than one.

The great Dean Winchester.

Beats Death itself, too many times to count.

Felled by pebble in his...well...proverbial shoe.

You try to hide your amusement, if not your affection. You bite your lip hard.

"Shut up," he warns, even though his lips twitch upward.

Your snort of laughter escapes before you can reign it in.

Beau Arlen

Beau is resistant at first, but he's probably the easiest to wrangle into seeing the doctor, whether it's yearly checkups or a man flu gotten out of control.

("You know what, my throat still feels weird on the left side, especially when I swallow. Feels scratchy and, uh, kinda hurts. You think I should get it looked at? What if it's laryngitis, or pneumonia, or God forbid, throat cancer. I mean, throat cancer, honey! That's nothin' to laugh at.")

You wish he'd have that "proactive" mentality with other areas of his health too, like not overworking himself at the precinct.

But when it comes to one exam in particular, he's your typical male of a certain age.

No matter how many times you remind him and write down the appointment on the calendar stuck to the fridge so he doesn't forget, he conjures some excuse for why he couldn't make it.

At first it's begrudgingly amusing, but by the third time, you're concerned, and even annoyed that he isn't taking his health more seriously.

"Look, I know it's not exactly pleasant, but this stuff is important. You gotta take care of yourself," you say.

You know you don't have to remind him that he has a daughter, but you will pull that card if you have to.

"Yeah, I know. It's just, uh..." Beau trails off, hands on his hips. He doesn't know what to tell you to make you understand how much he'd rather not go to this appointment.

"It's just a prostate exam, babe. I'll bet it's not half as invasive as a pap smear," you say wryly.

Beau shakes his head at you. "That very well may be, but believe you me, no man wants a latex finger up his..."

You raise your brows and tilt your head with a smile. "Well, you know. Some guys actually—"

Beau waves a hand at whatever you were going to say next.

"You know what, forget I said anything. I'd rather just live my life not knowing what's down there. Really, I'm good."

You utter a laugh, but you sidle up to him and grasp the open edges of his jacket. You turn your face up to him with a more sensuous smile.

"You don't mind when I do it," you tease.

Beau actually blushes. His cheeks and the tips of his ears tinge pink.

He clears his throat, his hands settling on the curve of your waist.

"Well, that's different," he says. His voice pitches lower, his green eyes taking on a slight mischievous gleam. "You're just teasin' the cave. You're not looking for coal."

Laughter bursts out of you like a gut punch. Your forehead falls against his chest as your entire body shakes with giggles.

Beau wraps you up in his arms. He tries and fails to temper his grin, even though his cheeks are still burning.

"All right, fine. I'll go," he says. "But I don't want to hear a damn peep out of you when I get back."

Soldier Boy (Ben)

(Oh, good fucking luck on this one.)

Ben rarely, if ever, gets sick. Of course, he's also nearly invulnerable.

However, you've been trying to get him to see a different kind of medical professional.

"Excuse me?" he growls. The first time you suggest it, he dismissed the idea with a roll of his eyes, thinking you were just trying to get a rise out of him. He doesn't appreciate you bringing it up again. "You better be fucking kidding."

"Ben..." You try to ply him with a gentle hand on his arm, but he shrugs you off, too irritated to curb the impulse.

"I'm fucking crazy, is that it? That what you're trying to say?" His voice raises, notch after notch. "I don't need a goddamn shrink!"

"I didn't say you were crazy!" you say. It's hard not to match his volume, but you manage to stand your ground while he huffs and puffs and eventually storms out.

You get discouraged and frustrated yourself, but you cling to every scrap of patience you can muster up for this man.

It's gonna take a few tries.

You start to suggest that maybe he should start easing up on the weed and the booze too.

Any time he snaps at you, you remind him that for as much shit as you've put up with him so far, this is the kind of shit that'll send you packing. Leaving his ass. For good.

He volleys back with empty words. "Fine, fucking leave."

You know they're empty, because every time you've called his bluff and packed a bag, he stops you.

"All right, enough. You've proved your fucking point."

After that, he tries to cut back on the booze, at least. He watches you pour out the Grey Goose and the Patrón.

Fucking fine by him. He's lost the taste for vodka, let alone that frilly French shit, and the cheap tequila.

But choking off the vein of one vice just makes another twice as strong.

Ultimately, it doesn't fix the problem either.

There's the time Ben blows a hole in the roof of your house (after a nightmare, he refuses to admit).

And there's a second time too. A third close call, and Ben pushes you clean off the bed so you won't get hurt.

If that didn't do it, he finally gets the picture after the second pink line appears on that white stick.

It now lies on your nightstand while you and Ben lay tangled together, bare skin against bare, flushed, sweaty skin.

A celebration, if you will.

His big hand lies splayed over your belly, protective, possessive, and deep down...grateful.

You glance up at the patched ceiling. Ben follows your gaze. His contentment fades into a frown, just like yours.

Both of you are thinking the same thing, if in different flavors of concern. Anxiety. (Guilt.)

"It's different now. You know that, right?" you say quietly. "If we're going to do this, you and me together, then I need you to protect us. Protect us from you."

At this point, you know he won't see a psychiatrist for his PTSD; not if it's to help himself (God forbid he admit that he needs it).

But if it's to protect you and your child, his own child...

Ben swallows a few acidic ounces of his pride.

Despite every cell in body that fights against it, he gets in his car the very next day and shows up for the appointment you made for him with Dr. David.

("What kind of quack fucking doctor goes by his first name, anyway? Christ.")

After the first couple of painfully awkward sessions, it's not so bad, Ben discovers.

He has a willing (heavily paid) audience for all of his stories from "the good old days."

Every gushy detail.

Russell Shaw

Russell is always quick to give reassurances, to downplay, to tell you that he's good.

But the day he comes home from a job with his bag hanging from his fingertips, almost dragging on the floor, his movements stiff as a rail — your heart sinks into your stomach.

"Hey, baby," he greets you tiredly, even tries to kiss you, but you're too busy running gentle hands over his arms and chest. Searching.

"Hmm, someone's missed me. Miss Handsy-yy-ahhh..." His playful quip dies the moment you find it.

Under his jacket lies the shoddy patch job on the bullet wound in his arm, located a few inches below the shoulder, just barely hidden by his sleeve.

"What the fuck is this?" you snap, half in anger, half in worry as tears spring hot in your eyes.

Russell immediately goes into damage control, soothing a hand down your arm and meeting your gaze.

"Hey, I'm okay. It's just a graze."

"Yeah fucking right. You're still bleeding!"

"Ehh, yeah, but no biggie. I've got some tools in the car—"

"No! We're going to the hospital."

"Sweetheart—"

"Right now! Let's go."

The man doesn't have the heart to argue with you too much after that. He knows he should've taken proper care of this before he got home. He really just wanted to, well, get home. To you.

But he regrets scaring you. He regrets making you worry.

He brushes the tears from your eyes and is grateful you don't ask what happened. He can't really tell you, even if he wanted to. His contract work with Horizon keeps his lips sealed for your safety, above all other reasons.

Only now does he begin to realize just how fucking unfair that is.

It really hits him when you sit with him for an hour and a half in the Emergency Department, waiting after the guy who fell off his moped, a kid with a little green army man stuck up his nose ("Hey, retro," Russell whispers to you), and a lady who can't seem to stop hiccuping.

Russell takes in a deep breath. He leans over to your ear.

"You know, we could just fix this up at home. A little needle and thread and some alcohol. Perfect First Aid kit," he says.

You narrow your gaze at him. "We're waiting to see a doctor. And don't think I'm done with you. When we get home, prepare to get punished."

A little smirk tugs at his lips. He brushes said lips across the back of your ear. "What am I, a little kid?"

You smile slightly as well.

"Well, if you're not going to tell me when you're hurt and try to cover it up like a little kid, that's how I'm gonna treat you."

Russell chuckles. His hand slips over your thigh.

"Gotta say, I'm kind of liking the sound of punishment. What'd you have in mind, sweetheart? Gonna spank me?"

And he's willing to give you more ideas.

You roll your eyes. Despite wanting to remain strong, his touch, the sensation of his lips brushing your ear sends a shiver curling down your spine.

"Oh, you just wait."

AN: lol I always have so much fun writing these. Let me know which one was your favorite this time! 💕

@waynes-multiverse You gave me another perfect little tidbit for Beau on Man Flu that made it into this one. 😂

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[jesuistrestriste]

thinking about preacher's son patrick asking you to hurt him as punishment for his sins.

he doesn't know how to deal with his desire for you. it was easier to pray it alway when it was only his imagination, but now that he had you in his hands it's impossible to forget.

he tries anyway.

he starts ignoring you in church, refusing to talk properly or even meet your gaze. he know that if he does he won't be able to resist you.

it's so tempting to surrender to your sweet words, to your longing eyes begging for his attention, but he can't bear the guilt that spreads through him like a disease when it all ends and he doesn't have the comfort of your touch anymore.

it works for a while. until it doesn't.

the next time you see eachother in chruch after the service is done, you don't give him any chance to escape you. he tries dismissing you, but you take his hands in yours and look directly into his eyes. it's enought to make him loose his composure. he listens to you.

you end up in a empty confessional with him on his knees desperately asking you to hit him, to make him feel something other then the excruciating desire he feels for you. he's willing to hate your guts if it means it will all go away.

he needs you to purge it out of him.

when you finally slap him the sound is strident. the same hand that held his before. you remain silent, waiting for him to say something, but he only breaths heavily, avoiding your gaze. the tension is palpable, you don't know what to do, you're afraid that this is the end, that he'll never talk to you again. but then he looks at you. he looks at you and his eyes don't lie. he liked it. you're not surprised when he speaks up with, voice hoarse

"again..."

it only made it worse.

ermm i got a litle carried away, hope this isn't too bad, i avoided putting any real dialogue because i'm not very good with it 😵‍💫 but yeah i loved your preacher's son patrick fic <3

oh gosh i love this so much. i love impact play with patrick, especially a guilty patrick.

his hands on your knees, his fingers splaying out over your clothed joints as he looks up to your eyes and breathes out a shaky “hit me again”.

so you do. you bring your palm down across his freckled cheek and revel in the way his skin welts, red and stinging, in the shape of your handprint. his head snaps to the side with the force of your slap, and his eyes roll back as he processes the pain and the wetness beginning to gather in his eyes.

“more.”

you hit him again.

“i deserve it.”

again.

again, again, again.

he squeezes his eyes shut with a broken sob and grips your thighs, tears finally rolling pitifully down his flushed face. he chokes on a moan and then blinks his gaze back open to look up to yours.

“i deserve it, don’t i? i need it, i need to look at you and only think of pain, or else ill—..” he trails off, shoving one of his hands down between his shaking legs to dull the hot ache that’s throbbing throughout his veins without his permission. he leans forward and lets his inflamed cheek rest over your leg. he hisses softly through a clenched jaw at the initial flash of discomfort, and then melts into your body. he’s begging you to push him away. to grab him by his head of dark brown hair and tell him to get lost, like he’s nothing more than a dirty stray on the street.

but he knows you won’t. and that’s what makes him cave.

he lazily drags his soft, pink lips up your leg, his flesh catching on the dry fabric. then he bites at the waistband of your bottoms.

“i’m sorry.. i’m sorry, i’m sorry.. let me prove how sorry i am.. let me touch you..”

[paracosm-draw]

First of all, I love your art and writing so much (currently obsessing over you slave!anakin au)!

For the kiss prompt thing, I would like to ask for the one given before one of them leaves for something dangerous cause I’m an angst junky 👉🏻👈🏻

Absolutely no pressure to fulfill tho!

I'm such a slow writer but I promise you I will fulfill all the prompts I received eventually 😇

Here's another one ! You wanted angst, peach ? I'll give you angst 😌 Hope you enjoy 💕

---

“I don’t like that you're going alone.”

Obi-Wan looks away from where he's adjusting his utility belt, meeting Anakin’s thunderous eyes through the mirror in front of him.

His boy stands in the middle of their shared quarters, arms tightly crossed against his chest, a scowl on his face that didn’t leave since the Council assigned Obi-Wan his next imminent mission. Imminent as in he's already running out of time if they’re gonna have another argument.

“I think I understood the first twelve times.”

Anakin’s scowl deepens. His presence in the Force is like a hurricane ; violent, unpredictable and dangerous. Not for Obi-Wan, but for anyone who decided to take him away from Anakin and to send him alone on a negotiation mission on a planet reputed for his absence of laws and his criminality rate higher than Master Yoda’s midichlorian count.

“This is not a joke to me, Obi-Wan. That mission is bantha shit, the Council should know better. I'm not letting their stupidity risk your life-”

“Watch your tone.” Obi-Wan snaps, turning around to confront him. It’s been a day, and Anakin is on a loop. He will not listen to another insulting and pointless speech. “Use some respect when you talk about the Council. Should I remind you that I'm still part of it ? Are you calling me stupid as well ?”

Anakin glares at him but has the wisdom not to talk back. Obi-Wan can see the way his jaw works, teeth grinding so hard it looks painful, even from there. His mechanic hand spasms in a fist against his ribs, the line of his shoulders drawn in a tense line. He's angry but again, this isn’t something Obi-Wan is afraid of. It’s rather usual, in fact. The first emotion that comes to Anakin when he doesn't know how to deal with the other ones ; frustration, anxiety, fear. It’s easier that way, for him. Except Obi-Wan is tired of suffering the consequences of his constant fury.

“That’s not what I meant.” Anakin mutters finally. His hand uncurls to hold his side and Obi-Wan can briefly witness the vulnerability flashing on his face. It makes his guts tighten painfully.

“I know.” He sighs.

Picking his lightsaber from the table between them, he clips it to his belt before walking to Anakin. The boy looks at him, still angry but unsure, searching for something on his face Obi-Wan isn’t sure he has the answer to.

“Look.” He says calmly, resting a hand on Anakin's forearm. He can almost feel the tension running under his skin. “Your presence is required somewhere else and is essential there. The Council can’t afford to send us both on the same missions all the time, you know that.”

Anakin frowns and looks away, but he nods curly. Of course he knows that, but it doesn't mean he agrees with it.

“I’m gonna be alright.” Obi-Wan assures, because this is the heart of the problem. “I promise you.”

“You can’t be sure.” Anakin replies stubbornly. “If I was there to have your back-”

“Yes, but you can't.” Obi-Wan interrupts him, not unkindly but firmly. “It’s been decided and you can’t change it. Now, this conversation is over. I need to meet my troops at the hangar bay.”

“Fine.” Anakin spits and steps away from him, refusing to meet his eyes. The anger is back, suffocating in the Force. When he talks his voice is dripping with it, cold and impersonal. “May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan.”

It hits Obi-Wan in the chest with the surgical precision of a stab wound. This is not how they part, and Anakin knows it. They never, never fly away from each other in anger or in sorrow. It’s a rule, and Anakin just threw it at Obi-Wan’s feet.

Obi-Wan knows that it's Anakin’s way of playing his last card. It doesn’t make it right. It doesn’t make it okay. Obi-Wan won’t fold. He can't. So he orders the pieces of his heart to hold together for a while longer and opens his mouth to say something. Anything. A peace offering, a plea. Anakin turns his back to him. He might have slapped him the face it would have been less painful.

“If this is how you want to do it…” He murmurs, grabbing his robe on the back of a chair and turning to the door. “Goodbye, Anakin.”

There’s a part of him that wants to turn back as soon as he crosses the threshold of their quarters, to snuggle into Anakin's arms and to beg him not to let him go without a word. But the other one, the one that's hurt and disappointed, the one that struggles to put boundaries in their relationship, reminds him he's doing the right thing by not giving in to all his demands, especially when they're unjustified by honor or duty.

The short walk to the hangar bay doesn’t allow him much time to put his heart in check and to conceal the sadness simmering behind his features. It’s always harder when it’s Anakin who’s the cause of it. Balance, which is inherent to the Jedi life, is such a fragile thing to maintain when feelings are involved.

This is why attachment is forbidden. He thinks bitterly as he steps into the hangar.

The moment he meets his Commander, his polished mask of Jedi Master and General of the GAR is back on. He can’t afford to think about Anakin with what’s at stake.

He closes his side of the bond and focuses on the debrief. He’s not going alone, despite what Anakin says. He’s going with a bunch of his best men, in case he needs someone to have his back if things get ugly. And he’s going with Cody, who he trusts with his life.

He'll be alone for the negotiations, that’s right. But who’s trying to negotiate peace treaties with a garrison on their back ? His troop will wait in the ship, ready to intervene only if he feels the need to. That exact part was the one Anakin disapproved of.

Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Obi-Wan takes a breath and gives the first flickers of emotions bubbling in his chest to the Force. He doesn’t want to think about Anakin right now. But it seems to be proving more difficult than expected.

“Everything’s alright, General ?” Cody asks next to him, lifting his eyes from the datapad he's holding to give Obi-Wan a questioning look.

He’s a perceptive man, Cody. Obi-Wan appreciates him for it. He forces a light smile on his lips and nods.

“Yes, thank you Commander. Let’s not waste more time, I’d rather wrap this as soon as possible.”

“Of course, Sir.” Cody gives him an hesitant look. He opens his mouth before deciding against it and turns away, gesturing to his men to move along.

Obi-Wan watches as the troop embarks into the mouth of the ship, feeling strangely out of his body. For all he wants to get this done, there’s something stronger compelling his feet to stillness. He doesn’t like to leave like this, with a weight pressing down on his stomach. What- What if Anakin's right ? What if something happens to him and the last memory Anakin keeps is of them being angry at each other ? The thought makes him sick. This is not something he wants and he's pretty sure this is not something Anakin wants either and still, they’re both too proud to admit it. Anakin prefers to hide behind his anger and Obi-Wan… Obi-Wan drapes himself in a false sense of duty as he marches to the ship. He’s a Jedi, first and foremost. Duty will always come first, alw-

“Obi-Wan !”

The exclamation echoes through the hangar bay the moment the sole of his boot presses against the ramp of the ship. His heart misses a beat.

“Obi-Wan, wait ! Wait-”

He turns around, just in time for Anakin to join him, grab him by the shoulders and crash their lips together with such strength he would have tripped down if the boy hadn’t pulled him in a secure embrace.

He lets out a surprised gasp as Anakin presses a million kisses against his mouth, frantic and out of breath.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Forgive me. I don't want to let you leave like this. Please-”

He’s shaking so bad Obi-Wan has to gently slip his arms out of his grip to cup his face between his hands. He doesn't even think before speaking.

“I forgive you.” Of course he does. In spite of everything, Anakin will always stay his sweetest weakness.

He doesn't have time to elaborate because Anakin is once again chasing after his mouth, and Obi-Wan never really learned how to deny him anything. He kisses him back, grabbing the curls at the base of his skull and pulling him closer. Anakin's arms move to tighten around his waist until there’s no space left between them. Until there’s only closeness and comfort and the maelstrom of unsaid things hanging above their heads.

Anakin kisses him like it’s the last time, with the ardor of a man in love - or in despair. He holds him like he never wants to let him go, and Obi-Wan believes that’s probably the case. For a while he lets himself be held, be loved and comforted. It eases something in his chest, to know that Anakin decided to overcome his pride because he couldn't bear the idea of letting him leave like that. To hear him apologize. Their relationship is not easy and never was, but they're slowly getting there.

“I have to go, love.” He eventually murmurs gently against Anakin’s lips. The hold on his waist tightens slightly.

“You come back to me, alright ?”

“Of course.” Obi-Wan softly kisses his brow, fingers resting against the back of his neck.

“In one piece.” Anakin precises, moving slightly to embrace Obi-Wan completely, holding him tight against his chest.

“You’re the one to talk.” Obi-Wan chuckles. He rests his head on Anakin’s shoulder and presses his palm against his heart, allowing himself a tiny minute. “I promise you.”

“You better.” Anakin mutters against his hair. “Or I come pick you up myself, the Council be damned.”

“Oh, I'm sure.” Obi-Wan smiles. He feels lighter. Ready to leave.

He counts another three heartbeats before he pulls away from Anakin’s warmth. His boy looks sad and worried. He gently smoothes the crease between his eyebrows with his thumb and gives him a last, sweet kiss on the lips. There are some cheers behind them, on the ship. He tries to ignore them but the blush spreading on his cheeks betrays him.

“Wait for me, alright ?” He asks with a brush of his fingers against Anakin's jaw.

Anakin nods, taking his hand in his own and bringing it to his mouth where he places a kiss on his knuckles.

“Come back quickly.”

“Will do.” Obi-Wan promises before stepping away and onto the ramp. There are some words stuck in his throat, there, just at the base of his tongue…

He's on the platform of the ship when Anakin's voice rises once more.

“Obi-Wan ?”

Obi-Wan turns to him one last time. The engines are already running, the sound of them filling in the room with a deep noise. Anakin talks quietly but Obi-Wan hears him clear as day, above the engines as well as in their bond.

“I love you.”

Obi-Wan’s heart stutters in his chest.

The ship starts to buzz with the strength of the engines pulling it from the ground. The words are here, so close. They move from the back of his throat to the tip of his tongue.

“So do I.”

And he knows Anakin heard him when the doors close on his smile.

[purplehalnw]

Props to the Daredevil writers because there are moments between Matt and Foggy like:

-Foggy saying that Matt's a "really good looking guy" when they first meet

-Foggy and Matt equating owning a law firm together to them being married

-Matt saying "you're not gonna kiss me" and Foggy responding "I'm feeling a little something"

That could come off as queerbaiting but honestly don't, at least in my opinion.

Some of my fave celebrity dynamics (David Tennant & Michael Sheen, Anthony Mackie & Sebastian Stan) are friends who are secure enough in their sexualities and identities that they're totally fine with jokingly flirting with/saying romantic things about each other. And this seems like something that the Daredevil writers were doing with Matt and Foggy's relationship.

Like in most instances, queerbaiting comes from the situations two (often male) characters are put in. They're put in situations that force them to be super close with one another or in situations where other characters assume that they're a couple, both of which the audience is expected to laugh at. You're laughing at how "compromising" the situation is. Because being queer is largely seen as something shameful and emasculating and seeing these men being essentially humiliated is meant to be funny.

I think an example of this is Bucky and Sam in "Falcon and the Winter Soldier". There's the scene where Bucky and Sam fall off a truck in ep 2 and roll around in the grass, holding onto each other. Even when they stop rolling, Bucky doesn't get off of Sam until Sam pushes him off. There's a scene in that same episode where Bucky and Sam are with Bucky's therapist who suggests that they do a "soul gazing exercise" that she "usually does with couples". To do the exercise, Bucky and Sam have to get so close that they end up interlocking legs. In the end, Sam tells the therapist "thanks doc, for making it weird".

In these moments you're laughing at how unwillingly physically close Bucky and Sam have to be, you're laughing at them being treated/framed like a couple, but you're not supposed to seriously expect them to ever be together. It's pretty mean-spirited.

And in my opinion what makes Matt and Foggy different from this is that they are the ones making the jokes. They aren't ashamed by the idea of them being together, in fact they're endeared by it. So, in this case you're laughing with them, not at them.

Plus, queerbaiting has intention behind it. The writers intend to bait queer people with representation without giving them any payoff so that they can also appeal to the homophobes in the audience. And in my opinion, it's clear that the Daredevil writers never intended to give off the impression that Matt and Foggy might be a couple some day.

Obviously, no hate to Matt & Foggy shippers. People love romance, especially between those who are already close friends. But I do really love their friendship and how it's the heart of the show.

Some writers are so afraid of their male characters being interpreted as gay that they'll just ruin their relationship in general. Like how the Star Wars sequels separated Finn and Poe and started giving them random female love interests. Or how the MCU decided to have Steve abandon Bucky just so he could go back in time to be with his previously-almost-girlfriend Peggy who had moved on from him in the future.

But the Daredevil writers definitely aren't afraid of Matt and Foggy being too close. Matt gets several love interests but pretty much all of them end up leaving him in some way. But you know who is always there for him? Foggy. His friendship with Foggy is the most important relationship in the show, even in death it seems (haven't seen Born Again yet but I of course couldn't avoid spoilers).

[nothingspecialherern]

"Sit down. I need to read something to you."

Jaskier quirked his lips. "Read something? What are you planning?"

"Nothing. Just listen."

Jaskier nodded, sitting on the fallen log they had picked. Geralt felt around for the book in his bag. There was a pockmarked page for the poem he had picked out. As he turned around, Geralt noticed Jaskier trying to track the name of the book. If he didn't know any better, he'd think that Jaskier recognized the book-- he was fixed on the cover, eyes darting between the flowery title lettering and Geralt's face. Geralt suddenly wasn't sure what the etiquette was-- should he say the title? The poet's name? In a panic, he just started.

"The, uh, the light does funny things to people." He looked up to Jaskier, as if to get assurance. Why did he feel like he was reciting for a teacher? Jaskier smiled, though he didn't respond. It was enough to keep going.

Did he always sweat this much?

"The light does funny things to people. It reflects on tears and laughter the same. It..." Fuck, he was panicking enough to forget how to pronounce these stupid words. "illuminates and re-ju-vin--rejuvenates the soul, both in feel and name." He was losing his confidence. "Yet so much lies beyond the enlightened skin and unkept, wild mane..."

Again, he glanced at Jaskier, who simply nodded for Geralt to continue. He took a breath to steady himself. "It is the image of you that comes 'round to the same. Yes, even in distracting light-" Geralt was all but buried in the book by now, afraid to see Jaskier's reaction. "You and love remain unerringly the same."

Jaskier stared at Geralt, almost unsure what to say. "You like that one?"

Geralt barely lowered the book, just so his eyes could peak over the top of the pages. "Do you like that one?"

Jaskier pressed his lips in amusement. "I daresay I do."

There was a pause. Geralt didn't know what to say. Jaskier watched the light dance in the leaves above them. "What is it you like about that one, Geralt?"

"I like..." His eyes caressed the words again. "I like how light is too many things here. Like, it's good and bad. And..."

He glanced back at Jaskier, then to the forest floor. "I like how you can put 'love' in the poem instead of 'light'. It still works. And it's a more... it's real. Some poets ignore the blood and guts of the world. This one doesn't. There are tears."

Jaskier nodded. "That's very astute, darling. A lot of people don't pick up on that." A pause. "Why did you read this to me?"

"Because-- because it's good. It's how... It's how I feel." He looked to Jaskier again. He didn't seem upset yet. "It's... it's how I feel about you. You look good. In light."

Jaskier's lips quirked. "In love?"

Geralt blushed. He bit the inside of his cheek, angry at his own embarrassment. "I... I don't know how to say it. I thought... if I could read it..." He grunted. "I like this one."

Jaskier finally took pity on him, rushing off the fallen log to wrap Geralt in a hug. "Oh, don't worry, darling, it was perfect." He laughed. "I can speak enough for the both of us, I promise."

Geralt smiled, hugging him tighter. Perfect.

Geralt, determined to confess his love to Jaskier, decides the best way to do it is through poetry—after all, it's what Jaskier loves most.

The only problem? Geralt isn't exactly gifted with words. So, the witcher turns to a book he picked up in Oxenfurt, hoping its verses will speak for him.

The book, penned by the poet J.A. Pankratz, might just help him say what his heart cannot

[xo-zozo]

savannah grayson headcannons •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

a/n: omg would you look at that i'm posting again and it's a long one this time!! i actually love savannah and i've never made headcannons for her so yayy hope you enjoy it! if anyone has any requests don't be afraid to send them in!

tags : @your-mommy-ems @arqbella @reminiscentreader @x-liv25-jamieswife @inmyheaddd

@alwaysthefangirl @clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @annamatix @lyrakanefanatic

@123letsgobestie @hathorneheiress @midiosaamor @saythewordheiress

when she was in high school she was the girl's basketball team captain and you better know she worked HARD for that title

she also participated in a bunch of other sports while she was in school and she was good at most of them but basketball was still her favorite

i think that she would be the kind of girl to love a good slick back

the scariest rbf you've ever seen

between her and gigi she's the one who drives the most because she doesn't trust gigi to drive without crashing the car

in high school she would take gigi to trader joes like at least once a week

she has like a whole wall in her room of all of her basketball achievements as well as all her academic ones like okay multitasker

her and gigi did some kind of modeling together when they were younger

she literally has to refrain from punching jameson and xander everyday for giving gigi coffee

before she found out about the whole avery thing and got mad at her and stuff she actually liked her a lot even if she wouldn't admit it

she really likes those really complicated and excessive yogurt bowls with granola and fruit on top of it and would have it every morning for like a year straight

i think that her and gigi would have really small meaningful matching tattoos

every time gigi even had an interest in a guy she would be the one to have to "meet them first" and approve of them

even though she's an athlete and she spends a lot of her time doing that, the time spent off of the court is in dressier and very coordinated outfits

she always gets annoyed when people tell her and grayson how alike they are because she "doesn't see it"

she's a night owl so sometimes she'll be up until four in the morning without getting tired throughout the day but it's a bad idea to ever talk to he before eight am

i think this is also one of the ways shes very different from gigi who is a big morning person

whenever she gets ready she blasts really loud music (i feel like this could either be classical or rap and no in between)

even though he's like the complete opposite of her, she actually really likes xander and thinks that he's really similar to gigi

NOTHING ever gets by her, she's a very observant person

she randomly decides to do like crazy stuff like go skydiving and gigi is always very supportive but will not join

okay that's it for today guys yayy. anyway, writing this made me so excited to see how the whole thing with her like hating avery is going to play out because i hope that it's a big part of the next book because i think it's gonna be so interesting! comment if you have anything to say, thank you for reading!

my headcannons masterlist

[steviewashere]

Hanahaki AU Snippet! (Still a big old WIP, so please bear with me)

CW: Blood Mentioned

————— The coughing makes him ache.

Water doesn't help his sore throat. Hot baths prove to be fruitless when trying to soothe himself. And the odd tickle effect intensifies if he even spends a moment, a single second, to spot a thought over Eddie.

When he faced the great evils of the Upside Down, he was afraid, but willing. If it had to be him that was mauled, beaten, drained, then he took it. He was the brute in a lot of ways. A hero's sacrifice, that's what he deemed it. Though, in retrospect, would anybody call him a hero for the way he acted—was it just stupidity rearing its ugly head, was it just the after thought of an after thought, the last call to arms when the other plans dwindled down to shadows and bones? He took the swings and he cried out in pain and he whittled himself to the sluggish pour of blood; but was it him being the good guy, or simply the okay guy that sought out forgiveness from his surroundings?

He's apologized time and time and time again. It started with Nancy. Then, the camera he bought for Jonathan. The snippy comments turned into apologetic pouts when Dustin didn't laugh, or Max didn't smile, or Hopper began to cast this look of 'I know what you've done before'. If he laughed a little too hard at one of Robin's laments, he squished up his face and choked on his breath and shout out a sorry before the anger could paint her freckles red.

Steve's looked Eddie dead in the eyes and said, "I'm sorry for who I was before," but it didn't seem to be enough. There's this gaze that Eddie calls upon. Something stuck between regret and rage; an offense when his lips won't form the words, when his fists won't throw the punches, when he doesn't want to leave the room with a huff. Like he's contemplating something tumultuous and mad.

He would've died for Eddie.

Not like this, though. He doesn't want to die like this.

He doesn't want to die at all.

Robin's laughter echoes light in the shadows of his house. And Dustin's theories run him ragged, yet satisfied—like a run around a track would, breathless and tired. Nancy finally looks at him sweetly. And Max is just beginning to smile with all her teeth again.

None of this, he doesn't want to miss any of this yet. He needs a better job. To share an apartment with Robin even though it would drive him crazy. Needs to make pancakes only to eat them in bed and spill syrup on his pillows and throw a tiny fit of rage. Read upside down, hanging sideways from the arm of his couch, the words swimming in a way that will never make sense, all with the flicker of candlelight thrown over his slow to redden face. To adopt a dog that gets impatient when needing to pee before being fully trained, a dog that'll wiggle when waiting for dinner, a dog that'll bend around his body and star-sprawl across his mattress—leaving him to the floor or the couch or nothing at all.

There's always something that he wants and can't quite have.

He thinks of them between petals.

Cough. To attend Erica's graduation. Cough. To watch Robin fall in love. Cough. To officiate Dustin's wedding. Cough. To drink ice cold weak lemonade just because Jonathan made it when stoned. Cough. To see Eddie happy. Coughcoughcoughcoughcoughcough—

A thorn spills out and splits his lips.

There's blood on the damned thing. Blood on his palms. On his chin. Between his teeth.

Is loving Eddie worth dying over?

If he answers himself with no, would that make him a worse person?

If Eddie found out the answer, would Steve crumple at the reaction?

Is loving Eddie worth dying over? He thinks he'll die no matter what.

There's a thorn on his love line. Metallic under his tongue. When he finds the strength to dial Robin and she answers, all he does is sob.

———

Much much much more to come. But uhhhh, yeah. I told y'all this will be angsty. Not gonna tell you how much.

[forsaken-headcanons]

So recently I've been fixating on Jason (Slasher from Block Tales to be specific, but he's a Jason variant, so Jason too) AND I'M STARVING FOR CONTENT AND I'M EATING UP ALL HEADCANONS AND FIC'S I SEE!!!

So I made a few myself!!! Keep in mind that I have no idea about Friday 13th movie or Survive in Area 51 game. So I'm sorry in advance if this is not accurate to character. (Also it is like a continuation of my Killers Found Family)

From what I know Jason drowned (as a kid?). So now he's TERRIBLY terrified of water. If it rains, he's not going outside. If some of the killers drinks water he keeps his distance, but is still in the room because he doesn't want them to drown/choke.

If I remember correctly, Area 51 is like a lab or military base. They wanted to know how Jason became immune to pain/kinda immortal so they experimented on him. Because of it he's scared of medical equipment and untrusting to doctors and medical buildings.

During his stay in Area 51, he forgot how to read and write. C00lkidd with the help of Mafioso (C00lkidd begged him to assist) decided to teach him again so the communication will be easier if he knows how to write.

At first was really untrusting to other killers, but with time he slowly opened up to them and created close bonds.

^ Speaking of close bonds. Jason is cautious when it comes to getting attached. He doesn't want to lose another close person (like he lost his mom)

He eats alone in his room, making sure he hung outside the door a "DO NOT ENTER" written on a paper (someone else wrote it for him). That's the only time he slightly moves away his mask.

Correct me if I'm wrong (I read it somewhere) but Jason was bullied as a kid because of a deformality on his face? If so there's definitely an emotional baggage from that. That's the reason why he doesn't take off his mask. He's worried that the killers might dislike him when they learn how he looks.

WARNING, MENTION OF IGNORING INJURIES/SELF INFLICTED INJURIES

Jason hardly feels pain. So he has no idea that he injured himself (or someone injured him) until someone else points it out. And even then he tends to ignore it, because he can't feel it, it doesn't bother him. What he fails to realise that the bleeding out still has impact on his body. Other killers (except C00lkidd, he always calls someone else to do it) have to force Jason to sit down and take care of his injuries. (1x1x1x1 does it 'reluctantly', because he 'doesn't care' -> Lies, he cares but doesn't know it yet/doesn't understand)

I think it's everything for now. Hope you enjoyed the hc's and I didn't miss characterized Jason. (That's the worst feeling, knowing I made character ooc)

~ Purple Anon OUT!

I don't know much more about non-Forsaken/non-BlockTales Jason than you do, so this seems pretty accurate to me. Don't worry, Purple Anon!!! Poor guy afraid of the slightest drop of water...

[slaaverin]

To me Jungkook is a little bit the epitome of what BTS represent. Basically they are people for me "that are good at being human". I know it may sound weird like that.

But sometimes in life you see people that are obviously struggling with certain aspects of the human experience (with their bodies or socially or mentally ect.)

Jungkook for me has it all, he has a natural authenticity (Not afraid to he himself, express his opinions, be quiet or loud or funny when he wants to). He has also an open and gentle heart that shines and that gives a beautiful sense of purity. Which is a rare thing to observe. (It means he's not only a human, he is a human with an already evolved consciousness). He's also very creative, driven, combative when challenges arises, he pushes himself to be the best in everything he does. It's a also a rare quality and it's something that can only be developped over many lifetimes.

He's confident and shows an ease being himself under the spotlight. (Which not many people are able to do, if this much fame happened to us many of us would go completely insane). So it shows a very good mental stability (he even says he doesn't think too much) and to achieve a mental stability like this oh man the soul needs to WORK. And not a little bit I swear.

When the mental is under huge pressure like this, to keep it stable you need a certain amount of inner power and level of consciousness and once again that develops through maaaany lifetimes.

You can also see how good he is at being human with his bodily mastery.

Really, nobody who is a human for the first time can control their body like he does.

And he is not only perfectly under control of his body, he even PROJECT ENERGY out into the world.

The "power" we feel from him moving is actual energy he projects out.

That energy is received by the collective and that is why many people are drawned to him, it's like moths to a flame.

You know what it takes to do this?????

It's a lot. A lot of work.

So yeah, he's not simply a talented human, he actually mastered the human experience, through lifetimes of hard work on himself, and whatever he shows up to be in this lifetime, it's only the example of someone who did.

People can feel this intuitively. First they think wow how can he be so good? So kind, so pure? So talented? So exceptional? Well, there's a reason. He wasn't born like this just by random chance.

He should inspire people because he is a bit of a lightpost for people to follow. It gives people motivation to become better in general.

He's also a stamp that says "here's what you can expect when you evolve your consciousness": you shine bright, with a pure heart, a complete mastery of your body and mind, and you actually can change the world with your skills (whatever they are since it's different from person to person).

BTS is special in that way. But Jungkook even more so. He's the pillar of everything. It's earthy and rooted and stable. (People like stability.)

He has also a good balance of feminine/masculine energy which reminds people of their own true essence. Balance of both polarity is only achieved through evolution of consciousness, people have both polarities but usually one polarity is dominant over the other, and it takes work and evolution and integration to have them both balanced like he does. So of course people are fascinated bcs secretly every soul wants that here. We all crave for union and Jungkook is a reminder of that state. It's the name of the game.

So to see someone who have achieved this, it is quite astonishing and inspiring! It makes people go "this is great, why everybody isn't like that, I want more people like that" yes because people SHOULD AND WILL be all like this eventually. It only takes a loooot of time and inner work.

Anyway, overall Jungkook is a well-rounded beautiful person that shows a great level of enlightenment so no wonder people are attracted to that...that's literally the direction we are all taking...

But he must have gone through some shit (more than we can even imagine) to reach that point. So really, he deserves all the applauses 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

i always explained jungkook’s popularity not by him being the youngest or very buff solely but through the fact that he is much more comfortable and involved with his bodily existence than the majority of us and its (sadly) rare or surprising that a high-pressure famous person thinks and acts like that too, which is how - besides being a very gifted singer and dancer - jungkook tends to fascinate and positively inspire people a lot

[deangirlsstuff67]

Her Biggest Fan Part 3

Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: Who doesn't love a good fantasy or escape from our normal lives. When Y/N started this online adventre she never dreamed it would land her smack dab in the path of her favorite actor. Is there a chance this fantasy might become reality? And will the reality live up to the fantasy?

Warnings: fluff, talk about divorce, talk about trauma, language, soft Jensen, a little sexual innuendo

Authors Note: Here you go! I love that y’all are loving the hell out of this story. Don’t worry smut is coming !! I wouldn’t leave you guys hanging :) I love Jensen and his family. This is purely fiction and for entertainment purposes only.

Catch up with part two here | Masterlist

—————————————————————————

Jay: So can I ask why you started doing OnlyFans sweetheart?

You’re relaxing on the back deck tonight, watching the horses graze in the west pasture. Today was busy around here. Your kids came home from their dad’s house, you had your friends and their children over for a fire and BBQ. There is nothing that beats a beautiful summer evening hanging with friends.

Now the kids are tucked into bed after video chatting with your ex husband to say good night and you are finally enjoying nothing but the night creatures making noise as you decompress.

Jensen and you have been chatting all day. He’s up here in Canada filming again. I guess that means he can text more often without having his wife asking questions.

The more you talk, the more you two are becoming closer. It’s a surreal feeling considering you’ve never met the man a day in your life.

Me: At first it was for fun honestly. I am single, get bored easily, and needed the extra money anywhere I could get it. I had done it once before when I was still married, that didn’t end up going well in the end. This time around I didn’t have anyone looking over my shoulder or getting jealous constantly about something that didn’t matter in the end so I figured why not. Any side hustle I can start that can make me some extra money to throw at the life I have, I’ll take.

Jay: So the ex didn’t enjoy it?

Me: In the beginning he did. He got all the videos and photos sent to him and he even was in some of them. Helped pick out outfits. That best friend he’s with now, she was doing it with me and that was when they started getting closer and cheating on me. If I had to guess he was afraid I would do what he was already doing to me.

Jay: Ah, so it was his guilt playing with his jealousy. I guess I don’t have much room to talk.

Me: I’m going to say your situation is different. You guys are just staying together for show not so much because one of you is still holding onto hope for the marriage.

Jay: No, I don’t think many people will see it that way of it ever gets out though.

Me: People judge what they don’t know. I have a question?

Jay: Shoot!

Me: Does Danneel know about me?

There’s a long silence between it showing that he read the message and any sort of response. You’ve been thinking about it for a while now. Their marriage might be over, but they were still married to one another, how was that affecting her?

Better yet, what did that mean for you? Was she going to come after you or blame you for something. Or was she completely fine with it? There are a lot of questions now that you know who he is.

You wish you could talk to your best friend about it. Problem is you haven’t told her who Jay turned out to be. It’s not that you think she wouldn’t believe you, more that you don’t want to throw him under the bus. Jensen and you have been developing a good foundation for a deeper connection between you, while you know your best friend wouldn’t say a word, you still feel like you shouldn’t say anything without his consent.

Especially considering who he is and what he’s currently going through. Divorce is rough as hell without some woman running her mouth and it getting out to the world.

Ding.

Jay: Yes, she knows that I’m talking to someone and you make me smile. Like I said it’s complicated. If we are around family or friends we have to act married and happy. That also means I can’t be on my phone texting this beautiful country girl who brightens my day no matter what. However, when it’s just her and I in the house she asks about you. I give general answers and try to keep the personal stuff at bay. Dee actually badly wants to speak with you, she’s asked for your number many times.

Me: I’m sorry what? She wants to talk to me?

Jay: Haha does that sound weird? It’s not I swear. She started to notice a difference in my behaviour when we started getting close and was curious. For a year now Dee actually has had a boyfriend herself. We talk about their relationship once in a while. We never separated on bad terms, but there was a long period where it was just weird to be around each other and having to act in love still kinda sets us on edge. Before I met you, I tried to avoid her as much as possible. Still do but we are slowly working on a friendship again.

Me: No not weird. It's what my ex husband and I try to do as well. His girlfriend happens to get in the way alot and makes it more difficult, we do try our best though, there are days when it's a cage match because she has meddled and we take it out on each other. Nothing is gonna be perfect, but if you can find a way to accept and co parent with minimum conflict, not only does that help your mental health with divorce but it benefits your kids as well.

This conversation is getting deeper than you pictured for tonight. You've noticed that has been happening more and more since he sent the photo last week.

Assuming he feels like a giant weight has been lifted from his shoulders now that he no longer has to hide who he is from you. Being able to be complete honest has a relaxing effect on ones soul in the end.

I'm glad he trusts me enough to be this honest and relaxed with me.

Well you would enjoy a romantic relationship with this man, the solid foundation you have been building through these last few months has been just as amazing if not more so.

Jay: You're pretty smart you know that. I got a million questions for you pretty lady, I can honestly say I've never met someone like you.

Me: I ain't nothing special Jay. Just a single mom who lives on a farm and trying to figure out how to live this life in my new normal.

Jay: You don't give yourself enough credit sweetheart, I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.

Me: You're sweet Jay.

-- Incoming FaceTime From Jay --

Oh fuck off right now, seriously.

Reluctantly you answer the call. It's both extremely tempting to see him "in person" per say but also nerve racking as hell. Come on he is Jensen fucking Ackles, even if I have had emotional conversations with him and made him cum over and over again, this is still scarier as fuck.

The call loads and your screen is invade by a beautiful green eyed man standing in the kitchen of his trailer, eating. Smiling at you with his signature childish grin as he waves hello.

Chuckling at the man in front of you, "Hi Jay."

"Hey Darling." He grabs the phone off the counter and moves to the bed, laying down with a grunt.

"Long day I take it?"

"Lots of fight scenes today. I enjoy it, but I'm getting too old for this shit."

You can't stop the laghter that bubbles up from his comment. Jensen gives you his best bitch face, "awe that's so cute, you're trying to look mad."

"So sassy in person ain't ya sweetheart."

"You don't even know the half of it big guy. For the record you aren't old, you're lie whiskey... get betters with age."

"I go down just as smooth too," sending you a flirty wink before softly chuckling.

Fuck me, this man is something else.

"Oh look at you with those one liners. You look exhausted. It's late here, I'm guessing it's late there as well."

Rolling onto his side, "yeah it is. I had an urge to see you in and talk to you instead of texting. Seeing you right now makes losing sleep completely worth it."

"I'm glad you called, however I am saying you are going to bed. No fighting."

Smiling softly he lets out a yawn, "no fighting, good night baby girl. I'll talk withh you tomorrow."

You sign off and head inside to get ready for bed yourself. The new development of this relationship has you floating on cloud 9.

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Taglist:

@bitchykittenconnoisseur @spnaquakindgdom @nancymcl @tspmoff @lessons-of-red @supershygirl @yvonneeeee @syrma-sensei @neii3n @leigh70 @idontwannabehere78 @foxyjwls007 @kimxwinchester @multiversefanfics @mostlymarvelgirl @chilledbabydoll @senjoritanana @deansimpalababy @impala67rollingthroughtown @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @barnes70stark @maggiegirl17 @justwhisperingfantasies @jamerlynn

[waynes-multiverse]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yup, a very important difference 👆

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

Of course, babe, of course 😂💚

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Praise the Lord!!! 🙏

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

I love you for working this in!!!!

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

Ouch, but yeah 🙈😝

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, I bet she did 😂 Good on her!

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

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

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

He is such a fucking menace istg!!! 🤣

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

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

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

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

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

Thank God. Bless them 😂🫶

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

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

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

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

IF I STAY - Epilogue

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

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

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

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

Word Count: 6.4K

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

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Epilogue: Soul Surrender

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope so,” you reply.

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

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

But…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After a beat, he nods solemnly in agreement.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After a moment, he nods. “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He understands you. You appreciate that about him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Uh oh, Dean thinks. Did we break him?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Benny crosses his arms on the table, contemplating. He eventually gives you a wry, melancholy sort of smile. “Part of me’s still mad at you, I won’t lie…but there’s no use in it. Not even hating you.”

He shakes his head, and he sighs.

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

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

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

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

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

You blink at that. “Yeah, sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He misses you,” you say.

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

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

You nod. “We told him last weekend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” you say again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Louisiana,” Benny replies.

“Hmm, interesting,” she says.

He arches a curious brow. “You?”

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

Benny chuckles. “Well, all right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, did you hear about Benny?”

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

“Oh, I can’t believe you don’t know.”

“Girl, what?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you promise me something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, baby. Meet the baby,” you joke.

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

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

“She’s so tiny,” Robbie says. 

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

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

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

Dean soothes a hand over Robbie’s head.

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

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

“Yeah,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

“Game on, baby.”

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

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

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[hsslilly-blog]

sebastian failing a class because he's terrified of hunt is a good bit and this time it's not even that man's fault

[lovecatsys]

dear lord. i wish navigating the medical world as a trans person was not so awful.

[teenagefeeling]

am i seriously starting to see jokes about asexuals on my dash again??? i chose the wrong time to accept myself.....

[rivilu]

The more I think about the story through Daeran's pov the more insane i go. btw.