#because she thinks there are other ways to deal with the situation

[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. 😂

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

⋆˙⟡ Get notified when every new story drops! Follow my fic library blog - @zepskieswrites - with notifications on. 💜

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Beau Arlen Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist 

Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy + Russell Tag List (Part 1)

@kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato

@mostlymarvelgirl @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester

@deans-spinster-witch @sanscas @hobby27 @kaleldobrev @spnwoman

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @pieandmonsters @globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean

@lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @spnfamily-j2 @deansbbyx @chernayawidow

@mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @twinkleinadiamondsky

@my-stories-vault @0ccvltism @rizlowwritessortof @cookiechipdough @mrsjenniferwinchester

@fromcaintodean @k-slla @jackles010378 @deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused

@mrlonelycat @deans-daydream @leigh70 @aylacavebear @kmc1989

@siampie @rubyvhs @winchestergirl2 @winchester-whiskey

[daxisyzz]

⁺‧˚ ⋆ 𝐁𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐥 | 𝒃𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔 ⋆ ˚‧⁺

𝑬𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒅𝒆 5: 𝑴𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝑭𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚

Pairings: ceo!boss!bucky barnes × fem!reader

Other characters: coworkers!Wanda, Sam, and Peter, Bucky’s mom, sister and grandfather.

Contents: fake dating, chaotic relationship dynamic, workplace romance, contract relationship, Bucky is surprisingly soft, protective Bucky?, rude family member.

Summary: Bucky’s grandfather invites you to a formal dinner, where you’re met with disapproving glares and passive-aggressive questions. Just when you think you’re failing, Bucky does the unthinkable—he defends you. The night ends with him whispering, “You did good.” (Why does that make your heart race?!)

Word count: 3.6k+

Series masterlist Previous episode 4

Inspired by the kdrama "Business Proposal"

Previously on Business Proposal...

Your feet ached. Your head buzzed from the forced conversation and endless smiling. But your heart, that was the real traitor. Because it wouldn’t stop replaying one stupid, small moment:

The way his fingers had brushed your cheek. The look in his eyes right after.

You groaned into your blanket.

Get a grip.

Then your phone buzzed. A message. From Bucky.

Bucky: Plums are my favorite. I just said wrong to mess with you.

You blinked at the screen. Then read it again. A laugh bubbled out of your throat, unexpected and warm. You sank deeper into the bed, smiling against your pillow.

Maybe he wasn’t a complete machine after all. Maybe just maybe there was something under all that armor. And maybe that was the real danger.

______________________•

The harsh buzz of your alarm made you squint your eyes open. You groggily reached over to shut it off, the weight of the night before still pressing down on you. Everything felt... quiet. Like the calm after a storm. You stretched, trying to ease the ache in your back from the hours you’d spent in heels, and then... it hit you.

Your phone screen lit up with a flood of notifications.

At first, you figured it was nothing. Work group chat? Maybe a text from Nat? But when you unlocked your phone, it was as if the world was suddenly screaming at you.

Dozens of headlines, flashing across your screen in bold, relentless letters:

"Bucky Barnes: The Billionaire CEO’s Newest Girlfriend"

"Bucky Barnes Spotted Out With Mystery Woman – Is She His New Love Interest?"

"From being a bachelor to overnight relationship? The CEO’s Private Life Revealed!"

You felt your stomach flip. The photos, the comments — everything. There was no hiding now. The world had found out about your "relationship" with Bucky, and the internet was running wild with it.

Before you could even process the articles, your phone buzzed again. This time, it was the work group chat blowing up.

Sam: YOU'RE FAMOUS! I always knew you'd leave us for a rich dude.

Wanda: SHUT UP SAM SHE’S A QUEEN!! LOOK AT HER IN THAT DRESS. EATING.

Peter: Do you need a flower girl?? Asking for a friend (it’s me)

Sam: Pls marry him and give us a paid day off as your wedding gift.

The texts kept coming, flooding your phone, but you couldn’t keep up with them. You didn’t dare open Nat’s texts. Not yet. You didn’t know if you were ready to deal with what she'd have to say about the situation.

You scrolled down to see more headlines — some were kinder, others less so. Some even suggested you were a gold digger or that the relationship was a publicity stunt. Your chest tightened.

"Great," you muttered under your breath, tossing the phone aside as if it were an uninvited guest. This was exactly why you hated being in the spotlight.

But just as you were about to face the cold reality of the situation, your phone rang, Bucky’s name lighting up the screen.

You picked it up in a daze, your pulse jumping at the sound of his voice on the other end.

"Morning," Bucky greeted, his voice calm and steady. "How’re you holding up?"

"How do you think I'm holding up?" You sighed, staring at the glowing screen of your phone. "The entire world knows, Bucky."

He was silent for a moment. "Yeah, I know. I didn’t expect it to hit so fast. Listen, I have something for you. Can you come over?"

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, the chaos on your phone still looming over you. You’d expected Bucky to be corporate, polished, maybe a little distant. The last thing you were expecting was for him to invite you to his house.

“I—I don’t know, Bucky. Everything’s... everything’s a mess.”

“You need to get out of your head," Bucky said softly. "Come over. I promise, it'll be worth it."

You hesitated, then sighed, knowing there was no way out of this conversation now.

When you pulled up to his penthouse, you had expected the sleek, modern exterior of the building to intimidate you. But what you hadn’t anticipated was the sheer height of it. The towering glass and steel structure rose far above the city, a clear beacon of wealth and luxury.

The car stopped, and your heart pounded as you stared at the building, suddenly feeling small. The elevator ride up was quick and silent, the hum of machinery beneath your feet almost peaceful.

When the doors opened, you stepped into a spacious lobby, one that was as modern as it was minimalist. Everything was white marble and polished chrome, reflecting the city skyline beyond.

But when the elevator doors opened onto the next floor, you stepped into another world.You weren’t in a corporate boardroom or a high-powered CEO’s office anymore.

You were in his space.

Bucky’s penthouse was… well, breathtaking. A mix of industrial and modern, with walls of glass that gave way to a view of the city’s skyline. But it wasn’t the kind of cold, impersonal place you'd expect from a billionaire CEO. The furniture was cozy, oversized. Sofas draped with blankets, bookshelves lined with dog-eared novels, and the faint smell of coffee lingering in the air. There was even a low-sitting coffee table, surrounded by chairs that invited conversation rather than cold, transactional meetings.

And then, you saw him. Bucky.

You were used to seeing him in impeccably tailored suits, crisp and perfect. The Bucky Barnes you knew was a cold, calculated man — always put together, always in control.

But now?

Now, he was wearing a simple t-shirt and joggers, his sleeves rolled up to reveal the tattoos that stretched down his arms. The casualness of it made your heart skip a beat. It was like seeing him stripped of his armor, just... Bucky. A person.

He stood at the kitchen counter, pouring coffee into two mugs. “I was making some coffee,” he said with a slight grin, clearly amused by your surprised expression. “I figured you could use some after everything.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him in this setting, so unguarded.

"So," you said, carefully approaching the counter, trying to shake off the nerves bubbling inside you. "This is... this is your place."

Bucky's smile softened, a hint of something warmer behind it. "Yeah. Surprised?" he asked, setting a cup down in front of you.

You nodded. "I didn’t expect you to be so... normal."

Bucky’s chuckle was warm and easy. “Normal? You don’t get to be ‘normal’ with the kind of life I have. But you should stay awhile. I’ll make you some breakfast, if you want.”

You nodded again, grateful for the distraction. This wasn’t how you’d expected to spend your morning, but right now, Bucky’s calmness felt like a lifeline.

After a brief, pleasant silence, Bucky leaned against the counter, hands casually tucked into his pockets. “My family’s in town today. My grandfather... he wants to meet you.” He studied your face carefully as if gauging your reaction.

Your eyes widened. “Wait. What?”

“You heard me.” Bucky's smile softened but held that edge of seriousness you recognized. “I know it’s a lot, but I’m asking you to come with me. You don’t have to do anything crazy. Just... be yourself.”

You swallowed hard, already feeling the anxiety crawling up your throat. “I don’t know. Your grandfather... he’s kind of... intense.”

Bucky stepped closer, his voice quiet and reassuring. “I know. But he’s old-school. A little rough around the edges, but it’s his way. You just need to give him time.”

You’d agreed hesitantly, even though your heart was racing. You weren't sure what to expect, but you knew this would change everything between you and Bucky. The meeting with his family was more than just an introduction; it felt like a test. A moment that would determine whether this fake relationship would ever feel real.

The drive to Bucky’s family home was as peaceful as it could be, but the silence between you two was thick with unspoken tension. Bucky sat in the driver's seat, his focus on the road, but you could feel the energy between you shift. This wasn’t just another dinner or a casual act — you were walking into his world, into the heart of his family, where everything would be scrutinized.

His usual confidence, the effortless charm that came with being a billionaire CEO, was gone. In its place was a man who seemed... uncertain.

You both drove through the city, then past the urban sprawl into a more serene, affluent neighborhood. The houses here were sprawling, well-kept estates surrounded by green lawns and trees, the kind of places you'd expect a family like the Barnes to call home.

When you reached the house, you couldn’t help but marvel at its grandeur. The Barnes estate stood at the end of a long, winding driveway. It was one of those houses that made you feel both awed and small at the same time. The exterior was a mix of classic brickwork and modern touches, a beautiful and expensive home — not one you'd ever expect to walk into as a guest, let alone as someone’s "girlfriend".

Bucky parked the car in front of the large stone steps that led up to the front door, and the nerves in your stomach spiked again.

"It’ll be okay," he murmured, turning to look at you. His smile was tight, but you could see the reassurance in his eyes. It was as if he was trying to convince both of you, but you didn’t have the heart to argue.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever was about to happen.

As you stepped out of the car, you found yourself at the threshold of the Barnes family home. The front door swung open before you could even ring the bell, revealing a woman who looked remarkably like Bucky — in her early fifties, with striking dark hair that fell in waves around her shoulders, and a warm smile that immediately put you at ease.

"Ah, Bucky!" she exclaimed, stepping forward to greet him with a hug. "And you must be the lovely [Name]" Her voice was warm, her eyes twinkling with genuine interest as she enveloped you in a tight, welcoming hug. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit of the tension in your shoulders release as she wrapped her arms around you. "We’re so happy you’re here."

"Mom, this is [Name]," Bucky said, his voice softer than usual as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. "[Name], this is my mom, Winnifred. You can call her Winnie"

You smiled nervously at her, feeling a little out of place as you looked up at Bucky.

"It’s so nice to finally meet you," you managed, your voice shaking slightly.

Bucky’s mom grinned. "I’ve heard so much about you from Bucky. We’ve been dying to meet you."

Before you could say another word, a man’s voice interrupted. A man who looked like he had stepped out of another era entirely.

"Is this her, then?" The voice was low, gruff, and filled with disapproval.

You turned to see an older man standing at the top of the staircase. His face was stern, with sharp features and gray hair that had been meticulously combed. His eyes were narrow, assessing you as if you were some kind of specimen he was about to examine.

This was Bucky’s grandfather, you realized with a jolt.

"Grandpa, this is [Name]," Bucky said, his tone polite but strained. You noticed the subtle way Bucky's shoulders tensed when his grandfather appeared. "[Name], this is my grandfather, Issac Barnes."

The old man stared at you for a long moment, his gaze scrutinizing. There was no warmth in his eyes, just a cold, appraising look that made your insides twist.

"You’re the woman he’s dating?" Grandpa Barnes asked, his voice skeptical. There was no warmth in his greeting, no smile. "I must admit, I expected someone... different."

"Grandpa," Bucky warned, but his voice was quieter now, almost apologetic.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You weren’t sure if you should be offended or just brush it off, but either way, it stung.

"Yes, sir," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "I’m... I’m honored to meet you."

The silence stretched between you as Bucky’s grandfather sized you up. Finally, he grunted and turned to walk away, muttering under his breath about something you couldn’t quite hear. It wasn’t the warm welcome you’d hoped for, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected either.

"Ignore him," Bucky whispered as he led you into the house. "He’s always like that."

You nodded, unsure what else to say. You followed Bucky inside, where his mom and sister were waiting.

Dinner was a mix of awkward silences and strained conversation, mostly focused on polite pleasantries that didn’t go much deeper than surface level. Bucky’s sister, Rebecca, was kind and chatty, asking you all about your work and your interests, making the conversation easier to navigate. She was easy to talk to, which made the tension in the air a little more bearable.

But it was Grandpa Barnes who dominated the table. He didn’t make any effort to disguise his disapproval of you. Every word you spoke, every attempt at humor, was met with a cold stare. You tried to hold your ground, to keep your smile in place, but it was hard to keep up with the constant criticism.

"Well, [Name]," Grandpa Barnes said at one point, his fork scraping against his plate as he looked at you, "I’m curious. What makes you think you’re good enough for my grandson?"

You froze, the question hitting you like a punch to the stomach. You’d been holding it together up until this point, but now?

You weren’t sure how to respond. Bucky, however, was having none of it.

"Grandpa," he said firmly, his voice suddenly hard, "that’s enough."

Everyone at the table fell silent. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to suffocate.

Bucky’s face was set in a hard line, and you could see the muscles in his jaw clenching. His grandfather raised an eyebrow, but before he could speak, Bucky continued.

"You don’t get to talk to her like that. She’s a smart, hardworking woman, and she deserves respect. I’m not going to let you treat her like that."

Your heart skipped a beat. For the first time, you saw Bucky take a stand for you. It wasn’t like him to show any emotion, especially not this kind of protectiveness.

Grandpa Barnes looked taken aback, his eyes narrowing, but Bucky wasn’t backing down.

"We’re leaving," Bucky said firmly, standing up from the table and holding his hand out to you.

You blinked, stunned, but took his hand, following him out of the room. As you walked toward the door, you heard Bucky’s mom call after you.

"Bucky," she said softly, "She's a good woman. Dont lose her."

You didn’t turn around, but you could feel the warmth of her words settle around you.

As you both drove away from the Barnes estate, the tension that had filled the air during dinner seemed to linger between you. The silence was thick and heavy, wrapping around the both of you like a thick blanket you couldn’t shake off. The hum of the car engine was the only sound breaking the quiet, but even that felt too loud.

Bucky’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as he maneuvered the car down the winding roads, his jaw set and his eyes focused ahead. He wasn’t angry, but the edge in his posture told you something was weighing on his mind. It was the first time you’d seen him like this — unsettled, unsure of what to say or how to make the atmosphere less suffocating.

You were still processing everything that had happened in the house. His grandfather’s cold reception, the judgment, and the overwhelming pressure of trying to fit in with his family. You could feel your pulse still racing from the tension at the dinner table, and the thought of it made you bite your lip.

But then, just as you were about to say something, Bucky’s voice broke the silence, sounding softer than usual.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

The words caught you off guard.

“Excuse me?” You turned to him, eyes wide in surprise. You hadn’t expected an apology from him — especially not from the man who had been so cold and distant toward you in the beginning. Who had treated you like a tool to use for his contract, never really giving you any warmth or kindness beyond the bare minimum.

“I didn’t— I didn’t expect the dinner to go like that,” he said, his voice a little hesitant. His eyes flickered to you for a split second, before he turned his gaze back to the road. “Grandpa… he can be a hard one. He’s not easy to impress.”

You nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond. The Bucky you had met when this whole arrangement had begun felt like a completely different person than the one sitting beside you now. The arrogant CEO who had barely tolerated your presence, who had dismissed your every suggestion with a cold shoulder — this version of Bucky, who was genuinely apologizing for his family’s behavior, was unfamiliar. And, frankly, it caught you off guard.

“I didn’t expect… any of that,” you said quietly, still feeling a little shaken. “I didn’t expect him to be so…”

“Rude?” Bucky finished for you, his voice carrying a faint, humorless chuckle. “Yeah, he can be a bit much. But I should’ve warned you properly. I should’ve told you what you were walking into.”

There was a sincerity in his tone that you hadn’t heard before, something that almost made you forget about the grand house and the coldness of his grandfather. It was a side of him you hadn’t seen — one that wasn’t hidden behind the veil of arrogance and stern masks.

“Thank you for standing up for me,” you said, your voice soft but genuine. You’d meant to say it earlier, but the moment had never felt right. Now, in the quiet of the car, it seemed like the only thing that mattered.

Bucky’s eyes flickered toward you again, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His expression softened, and for a brief moment, it was like the walls between you had fallen away, even just a little.

“Of course,” he replied, his voice quiet, but firm. “You didn’t deserve any of that… treatment from him.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a heartbeat, everything felt different. The Bucky Barnes you knew — the stoic, business-minded, calculating CEO — was melting away, piece by piece, until all that was left was a man who genuinely cared.

He pulled the car up to a red light and slowed to a stop, the silence between you two now almost comfortable. You couldn’t help but study him, noticing the slight way his shoulders had relaxed, the soft way he was looking at the road ahead. It was subtle, but you could tell: he was no longer the cold, unapproachable boss. In this moment, he was just Bucky. And that made the car ride feel far less suffocating.

"Doll..." Bucky’s voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “I know I haven’t been… easy. On you. Or, well, anyone. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you didn’t belong.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t help but glance over at him, trying to gauge the sincerity in his words. The man who had been so abrasive to you, so distant, was now opening up in a way that made you feel like you were seeing him for the first time. You hadn’t expected this.

“I’m not used to letting people in, you know?" he continued, his eyes briefly flickering to yours before quickly looking back at the road. "And I definitely didn’t expect... all of this.” He motioned vaguely between the two of you with a slight gesture, indicating the situation, the fake dating contract, the mess with his family — everything. “But I’m trying. I guess it’s just… new for me. I’m sorry if I’ve made it harder than it should be.”

You couldn’t help but be struck by the honesty in his words. You had expected him to be all business — to stick to the deal and keep things impersonal. But now, with the weight of everything that had just happened between you two, you saw a side of Bucky that you hadn’t anticipated. He was apologizing, not just for his grandfather’s rude behavior, but for his own actions.

“You don’t have to apologize, Bucky,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “I get it. We’re both just figuring this out, right?”

He nodded slowly, the tension between you two easing, even if just a little. “Yeah,” he said with a small smile, his gaze finally meeting yours. “Guess we are.”

The rest of the drive passed in relative silence, but the air was no longer heavy. It felt lighter somehow, as if a shift had happened, something small but significant that made you both realize that the world you were navigating was bigger than just the contract between you. And, somewhere in the background, feelings you had both tried to suppress were beginning to stir. But neither of you acknowledged them yet. You couldn’t. Not when things were still so uncertain.

When Bucky finally parked in front of your apartment building, he looked over at you. “You good?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Good.” He offered you a smile, one that was softer, warmer than the smile you’d seen from him before. “I’ll text you tomorrow, yeah?”

You smiled back, a little more sure of yourself now, even if you weren’t entirely sure where this would go. “Yeah. Text me.”

As you stepped out of the car and watched Bucky drive away, a small, unexpected part of you didn’t want to let him go. But you pushed the feeling down, telling yourself you were just imagining things.

As you entered your apartment, you leaned against the door, breathing out a slow, steadying sigh.

What had just happened?

Taglist: @calwitch, @scott-loki-barnes, @baw1066, @awesompawsum, @bucky-baby-barnes, @marianastudiesart, @pattiemac1, @maryevm, @borkybawnes, @mcira, @otterlycanadian, @mrsnikstan, @sebastians-love, @homiesexual-or-homosexual, @winchestert101

[flowersforthemachines]

Rate Your OC

thank you to @lucaanis @larkinna and @pinkvbay for tagging me <3 (and even standing on your knees, for some. woah)

Compassion: CONTEXTUALLY 9/10. I often think about that moment in ATEOHW when she tells Lucanis she picked the place she wants him to kill her in based on how easy it would be for him to get back from there on his own. Very normal!

But it's all very situation-dependant. She'll go all the extra miles for those she cares about, but won't spare a thought for others who stand in her way at all.

Bitterness: 3/10 with occasional spikes towards 8/10

Happiness: 5.5/10 pre-canon, 8/10 mid-canon [specifically around Bloor of Arlathan], 4/10 post-canon

Politeness: 5/10

Chivalry: I Don't Know. 6/10? But I'm eye-balling it here

Pride: 6.5/10

Honesty: post-canon 2/10. Local First Warden avoids talking about her feelings like it's the Blight

Love: 100/10. Top-1 woman who knows when she's in love and readily accepts it always <3

Bravery: 0-10. Because she's a coward (cough I'd rather die before anyone I love does so I don't have to deal with the grief cough). But she's also very brave in some other aspects. Complexities.

Recklessness: 9/10

Ambition: 2/10. Would be completely content to just be your ordinary run-of-the-mill warden. But alas!

Loyalty: 11/10 (she is also guard dog-coded. to ME)

Sense of family: 1/10. She was taken to the Circle when she was pretty young, and never really developed a sense of wanting/having familial relationships after that

Attractiveness: You know what, I am not rating that. You can rate her in the rb tags/comments if you feel so inclined. My judgement is my own.

Agility: 8/10

Sex drive: 8.5/10. Ghilasara who doesn't imagine relationship progressiong without having sex at least within the week after you get together VS Lucanis who needs to build up to Holding Hands is a beloved dynamic of mine.

Tagging @taamlok @inquisimer (can I see Marisol pretty please 🥺), @thewardenisonthecase (for Elisabeth, if you would <3), @hightowerqueen (for Bea OR Donella. whichever you prefer) @whispersleo (I Wish To Hear About Belasko) @sha-brytols (pls Esther facts. please) if you want to participate!

[misteryladys2]

Part 4- High and Dry

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠:Genderbend!Yellowjackets x reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mention of blood, language, murder, alcohol and drugs and suggestive themes.

Other chapters: ∆×

1.39k words

---------

The tape was still playing in the cassette player. High and Dry, almost like a ghost in the room.

Nate was sitting on the edge of the narrow bed, his cigarette burning in the corner of his mouth, his gaze lost in nothingness. The smoke rose slowly. The only light came from the old, yellowish stove lamp.

Trriiiiiim. Trriiiiiim.

Suddenly, the rotary phone started ringing. The shrill sound tore through the early morning silence.

He didn't move immediately. It was only when it rang for the third time that he reached out and answered it with the look of someone expecting the worst.

"Hello?"

A pause. On the other end, his father's voice - slurred, cold, with the smell of beer and resentment.

"Listen here, Nate. I know you think you're an adult now. With your faggot songs and these parties..."

Nate didn't reply. He bit his lip hard, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. The tape continued to play behind him.

"They told me they saw that little bitch of a coach coming out of your hole today. What do you think's going to happen, huh? Are you going to get her pregnant and then come crying to me? Because I'm warning you, Nate - if you screw up this fucking life any more, you'll have to deal with the consequences."

Silence.

"Fuck you."

The call dropped. Nate held the phone in his hand for another second, his knuckles white with tension. His eyes were stinging - not from crying, but from that deaf fury you keep in so as not to break everything around you.

The tape was still playing. The sweet chorus. The clean voice. Something pure in a broken place.

He just stood there. Listening. Feeling.

Feeling angry at everything.

The peeling roof of the trailer looked more interesting.

-----------

Nate woke up with a muffled scream, his head throbbing with pain.

Confusion.

The impact was devastating. The sound of twisting metal, the smell of smoke and the feeling of disorientation took over. He was lying on what looked like part of the broken seat, the wreckage of the plane scattered around him.

Smoke was beginning to invade the compartment, and the rising heat made him feel dizzy. He stood up quickly, his vision spinning, trying to focus on the sound of the other boys' voices outside - the way panic was taking over the situation pushed him even more to act.

Until he remembered.

"[Name]!"

He started looking down the aisle of the plane, trying to find her - his breathing was ragged, his heart pounding as he tried to process everything around him. It was as if the world had stopped, but the danger was still there, in the air, and he knew he had to find her, no matter what.

It was then that he heard anxious screams in the background.

She was deeper in the plane, her hair disheveled, her skin sweaty, but what shocked him most was what she was doing: with fierce determination, she was trying to free Vince, whose screams and desperation echoed through the cramped space. The belt that held him was stuck, and she was struggling to undo it, even with blood dripping from the cut on her face.

"[Name]!" He shouted as he ran up to her, leaning on the plane's seats.

She looked up, her gaze full of pain, but more focused on what she needed to do than on herself.

The burning body of the stewardess lay near where she and Vince were standing.

He reached her side, and without thinking, grabbed her arm tightly, pulling her away from the seat.

It was selfish, but Nate could think of nothing else but keeping her safe. "Forget Vince now! The fire's coming! Let's go!"

She looked at him, confused, as if she was trying to decide between him and what was happening around her. But Nate didn't give her time to question. Panic was beginning to take hold of him too.

With one swift movement, he pulled her to him, throwing her body against his, and began dragging her towards the exit of the plane. The voices of the other boys were getting louder.

"No! Don't do that! Nate! Help me, please! [Name]!" Vince's desperate voice in the background echoed in their heads.

But Nate didn't look back. Not while the fire was so close, threatening to consume everything around them. He didn't think twice before taking her outside, where the fresh air and dim morning light seemed safer than anything inside the plane.

The two of them collapsed onto the dirt.

The fire seemed to have taken over the world around them.

The surviving boys staggered around, trying to regroup Fear, injuries and panic showed on their faces.

An explosion sounded in the background.

Why had that happened?

----------

The girl was sitting against a tree while Miles carefully tended to the wound on her face.

Vince had appeared, but the pain of betrayal? No. He and Nate couldn't stop staring at each other, but neither had the courage to say anything.

At the moment, all the boys were trying to help each other with their injuries under the supervision of Miles, who had suddenly become crucial to their survival.

Nate and Tyler were discussing their next move.

"Hey! [Name]!"

Jack's voice is heard in the background.

Nate and Tyler quickly turn their attention to the scene.

She- walking disoriented among the wreckage, her feet heavy, her eyes trying to search for something familiar.

"Dad... Dad, where are you...?"

She was lost, her mind focused on just one thing: her father. She didn't know what was happening, or what she should do.

With her eyes fixed ahead, she moved forward, searching among the broken parts of the plane. But her vision was blurred, her mind wasn't working properly, and the sound of the others began to distort as she moved forward.

"Hey! [Name]!" Jack ran to catch up with her, his steps quick and sure. When he realized that she was heading towards a part of the broken plane where the fire was probably most intense, his instinct was to reach out and pull her back. But he also felt that he had to stand firm.

There was no time to be gentle.

"You're not going anywhere now! What are you doing?" He was panting, his eyes fixed on her. The concern was genuine, but the way he held her showed that he felt he needed to keep her under control. She was lost, he knew that, but his frustration was growing.

Jack gripped her arms firmly, forcing her to meet his eyes. "I need... I need to find my father... he can't be dead, he can't!"

The words came out almost in whispers, but the pain and desperation in her voice were clear. Jack looked at her, his expression mixed between anger and compassion.

Jack let out a sigh, pity? Probably. He didn't want to be cruel, but he knew she needed to hear reality. There would be no more time to look, they needed to get out of there.

Meanwhile, Sean stood in front of her, with a protective stance. He was trying to keep her distance from the part of the plane that looked most dangerous, where the flames were spreading rapidly.

"You can't go up there. It's not safe. We can't save anyone else." He spoke bluntly, but the look in his eyes was one of compassion. He knew she was in shock, lost in the search for her father, but they had to think about survival.

"You need to calm down, now! You're not going to find your father there, damn it!" Jack was impatient. His anger wasn't directed at her, but at the despair that was consuming her. He didn't want to lose anyone, especially her, but he also didn't know how to deal with her pain and confusion.

She looked at them both, their faces full of tension. For a moment, all she felt was a pain so great that the world around her seemed to fade away.

Then Nate appeared. He was breathing heavily, his body still marked by tiredness and the pain of the accident, but his eyes were fixed on her.

"[Name], don't do this. Not now." He moved closer, his tone of voice trying to break her spiral of despair.

She looked up at Nate, her eyes watery and her lips trembling. Her body was tired, but her mind was still searching for a reason to fight. But his words hit her in a different way. "I need to find my father..."

She didn't know what else to say. She wanted so much to believe that he was still there, that he could be saved. But fear consumed her.

"I know you're worried. But, fuck— please, let's get out of here. It's not the end yet."

He held her hand tightly, almost as if it were an anchor in the chaos - his eyes fixed on her. He stood there, still angry at what was happening, but his concern for her overflowing.

She finally gave in. Her body went limp, as if the pressure had dissipated, She gave them a broken, grateful look before letting Nate pull her away.

Jack and Sean exchanged a look before following behind them.

It wasn't the end yet.

[aqua0pan]

hii | hv a random idea:))

Zoro × reader,zoro and reader used to be gt but broke up(mutual?) a long time ago, somehow the straw hats recruited a new member(reader) while zoro was asleep during the whole situation

Maybe there's prob still some romantic tension between them? I think the both of them would somehow act like an old married couple lol hopefully this gives u some ideas!!

Old married couple? | Roronoa Zoro

A/n: This request was really interesting when I first read it. It took a while because I tried to write it differently but I hope you’ll like it.

CW: fluff/sfw, Ex-boyfriend Zoro, Ex-girlfriend reader, romantic tension, bickering, old married couple energy

Summary: Read Request

To my Masterlist

Zoro cracked one eye open lazily, the sun beating down on him like a relentless, smug enemy. He sat up with a grunt, scratching the back of his head. Something felt…off.

The air had a different energy today. There were way too many voiced, too much laughter. And way too much chaos.

"Oi, why is it so loud?", he grumbled, rolling off his sunbathing spot and storming toward the deck where the rest of the crew was.

The sight that greeted him neatly made him choke. The last thing Rorona Zoro expected when he woke up from a nap was to find his past right in front of him.

You.

You, who he hadn’t seen in years. You, who he used to hold close during colder nights. You, who he’d mutually broke up with.

You were laughing at something Luffy said, your voice carried by the sea breeze. For a second, he thought he was dreaming. You hadn’t chanced much, looking exactly the same and somehow worse but on the best way. More dangerous. More gorgeous.

More you.

"What. The. Hell.", Zoro said flatly.

"Oi, Zoro! You’re awake. Meet out new cremate!" Nami yelled out loud while smiling at you.

New crewmate. New crewmate?? When had that happened?!

"Since when the hell did we recruit them?", he muttered, loud enough for Nami to hear. "While you were snoring like a bear. They’re part of out crew now. Deal with it.", she said and crossed her arms at him.

You stared at his confused but also slightly sour face with amusement. Zoro has changed so much since you two last saw each other.

Zoro felt his eye twitch. "The hell are you doing here?" You shrugged. "Missed me, swordsman?", you teased while sending him a smirk.

"Tch," Zoro looked away, ears faintly pink. "Missed the headaches, maybe." There it was, that tension. It was thick enough to cut with a dull knife. The seats hadn’t filled it, if anything, it crackled between you even stronger.

It was also a nightmare, because even after all this time, just looking at you made his heart stumble. You weren’t better either. His voice, his hair, his eyes. All of him were so much more mature than back in your days together and still, you liked it.

And now you were here, back in his life, looking at him like no time had passed at all.

From behind you, Ussop whispered to Nami. "Are they fighting or flirting?" "Old married couple vibes," Nami sighted dramatically.

You and Zoro somehow got stuck on watch duty together. The silence between you two was heavy, filled with all the words neither of you knew how to start.

Finally, you broke it. "You still sleep with three swords at one, or have you calmed down in your old age?"

Zoro scoffed. "You still hog the blankets?" "You still snore loud enough to wake the dead?" "You still make that annoying squeaky noise when you’re mad?" You glanced at him and he glanced right back.

It was stupid. It was childish. You know that better than anyone else. It was so familiar that you felt your heart ache. But that didn’t last long then you burst out laughing, bright and careless.

"It’s good to see you again, mosshead."

"Yeah, you too, idiot."

The bickering never stopped though. You taking his spot on the Sunny to nap and Zoro grumbling but moving you a bit so you didn’t get sunburned.

Or when you two had sparring matched that somehow ended with both of you breathless on hue ground, refusing to admit who won.

At meal timer you criticize his table manners, while he criticized your lack of manners at all. It was always a mess between you two.

Today, you kept grabbing the seasoning he was reaching for. He kept correcting the way you held your cup. "You gonna spill it, idiot."

And you corrected the way he cut his meat. "You’re supposed to be a swordsman? Pathetic."

That went on for weeks where everyone groaned every time you two bickered. The wanted you two to kiss and get together again after they learned about your past together.

The it happened. It happened after a late-night sparring match, sweaty and laughing. Then, you tripped and Zoro caught you with a grunt, his hands landing on your waist instinctively. Classic.

However, neither of you moved. Your faces were inched apart, you eyes locking with each others. "Still a clumsy idiot.", he muttered, his voice lower than usual. You smirk. "Still an infuriating bastard."

Before either or you could second guess it, he leaned down, your lips crashing together in a messy and heated kiss that spoke more than words could ever do. Your lips moved perfectly together like it used to and you couldn’t deny it anymore. You missed it. You missed him.

Your heart was beating fast in your chest even after you pulled back slightly. Zoro rested his forehead against yours. "I missed this… I won’t let you go this time.", he admitted with a smirk on his lips.

You smiled, soft and happy. "Good," you whispered. "I wasn’t planning on leaving anyway."

In the background:

Ussop, Nami, Luffy, Brook and Sanji were peaking from behind a barrel. "I knew it!", Nami whisper-yelled.

Sanji cried quietly, his hope to win you over gone now. "I hate it… why him?…"

"You owe me 500 berries, Ussop!", Nami said, grinning and dreaming about the money.

"Yohohoho, True romance is eternal!"

[tweekamami]

every fanbase has to have a swap au. so i did it this stupid STUPID au has been in my head for like a month and this wip has been slowly built over that time but today i bit the bullet and finished it to get it OUT OF MY HEAD. ramble below :3 CLADE swap!au this is a simple swap of the roles. sam and kit are the trouble makers (trouble as far as stealing and pranks - i can't put these characters in seriously dark situations, as my comfort characters) and peggy is behind them. sam, like back in clade, is the gadgets guy. he's the "escape" part of every plan. kit, on the other end, being a fox, is the thief! the mischief maker! she gets her hands dirty, no short of her original CLADE counterpart. sam and kit are the two halves of a perfect heist or prank - meaning together, they're quite a lot of trouble for CLADE the CLADE agents tasked to deal with the mischief makers are none other than roxy raider, the saw scaled viper from e1, and the ABSOLUTELY EVIL MOUSE. here i will justify my choices: roxy - obvious choice. she and peggy continue their years long rivalry in this AU, although the other way around! because of roxy's personality, she finds it hard to *sit back* in CLADE, so she remains on the field most of the time as one of their best senior field agents the viper - id consider him one of the few characters with actual evil traits (my opinion - but he did care more about his own venom than possibly killing an entire train of people). not only that, but his nervous personality makes him a great main character in the same way sam's reluctance does in the show the mouse - SHES BATSHIT CRAZYYYYYY i like to believe her appearances in the show are all the same character just to aid this theory. shes got this bitchy manipulative personality that makes her a perfect candidate for the swap! concept. as well as that, her personality foils the vipers and makes them an entertaining duo. snakes eat mice, right? what if the tables were turned and HE was scared of HER anyway. i dont think ill do much with this au but i haaadddd to get it out of my head. smth about roxy raider in clade uniform................ <3

[thatneoncrisis]

perhaps pyrrha and paul explaining the whole nona situation to harrow? and the very thorny feelings harrow would feel having people, although considered friends, see her naked body and unpainted face for half a year. and then her also dealing with the fact that those people are gone so she can't properly yell at them about it (not even mentioning how pyrrha factors into this)

GUH. WUHH. IVE THOUGHT ABOUT THTA FOR SO LONG you get me. truly i think it would be cool and interesting, in a fucked up way, if harrow and pyrrha are never cool about what happened on the mitheraum. there is no "hey its chill that was just a different guy who looks exactly like me because i am wearing his corpse we good right." i think. harrow has the capacity for forgiveness for what they did to her mentally and physically, but that forgiveness doesnt equal "we are best friends now and forever." alliance of convenience harrow would be happy never peaking to pyrrha for the rest of her life maybe. god that girl has so much fear in her fucking shoulders how does she stand up straight

and yeah the whole messiness of autonomy when harrow was quote unquote dead. again i think she has the capacity to understand the context and necessity of the situation they couldnt just let nona flounder in her own filth or bathe with her clothes on all the time. but ultimately its a boundary of harrows we the audience are intimately familiar with this is her actual worst nightmare. i think the other times shes been naked in the series have portended like, the worst day/few hours of her life. different circumstances but i dont think shed be able to pack away that reactionary sick feeling of other people touching her and hugging her and seeing her as. not herself. gross!

honestly i want to see if atn handles this before i even touch it. tamsyn pleaseeee

[ghostcreaturetypething]

Regarding my most recent post about Dean wanting to ask Sam and Bobby for help in Season 5 episode 2, ‘Good God, Y’all’.

The thing about Dean Winchester is that he is nothing if he is not many many overlapping contradictions in an oversized leather jacket.

He is presented, initially, as this…this smirking, leather-wearing, smooth-talking fuckboy.

He’s presented as the kind of person who’d rather die bloody than ask for help, who’s so out of touch with his emotions that he barely realises that he has them, the kind of person who’ll destroy everything around him when he’s upset because he simply does not know any other way to deal with it. He’s the ‘belligerent one’, the one who doesn’t care about other people’s feelings, who speaks his mind without thinking and has little care for the consequences.

He’s never thought about what happens to the spirits who’s bones he burns. He believes every supernatural being to be evil and therefore deserving of death, no nuance, no exceptions, no complicated emotions. He’s uneducated, he’s coarse, he objectifies women, he drives an obnoxiously massive car, he never stops drinking or flirting or starting fights.

He is objectively, based off of all the evidence at hand, a grade A dickhead, and he knows it, and he couldn’t care less.

Except. Except, except, except…that leather jacket is his dads. It’s his favourite item of clothing, and he wears it everywhere. Except many of his best lines are actually from movies he’s watched, and loved enough to practically memorise. Except his first instinct in a dangerous and complicated situation is to call his surrogate dad or his brother, who he supposedly is having difficulty trusting at this point, to help him. Except he initiates difficult conversations and is actually incredibly articulate at expressing his emotions and owning up to his bad behaviours. Except the fact that he smashes things when he’s upset is proof that he feels emotions so deeply that sometimes he can’t stand it, and he visibly feels guilty after every time he does it. Except he’s effortlessly good with kids, gentle and sweet and un-patronising, getting through to them when no one else can. Except he apologised for insulting a man unprompted and tried to earnestly explain that he didn’t mean it and have a productive conversation with him, even after the guy had beat him up. Except he let a vampire go after she proved to him that she doesn’t want to hurt anyone, despite everything he had been taught to believe. Except he’s read Kurt Vonnegut and has a GED and built his own EMF meter from an old walkman and was so goddamn proud of himself. Except when a woman tells him no, he backs off immediately. Except he gets incredibly flustered when someone expresses those kind of attentions towards him. Except he adores his car, has rebuilt her over and over again, and he speaks to her softly and smiles while he’s driving and —

hell, he puts his hands up and keeps them open and empty when he’s trying to help someone who’s scared, and he loves steam showers and cowboy movies and love songs and stupid kids toys and he grew up taking care of his baby brother in every way he knew how and he laughs at his own ridiculous jokes and he talks to himself and he makes references that nobody gets and he wanted to be a firefighter when he was little because all he’s ever wanted to do was help people.

Except he isn’t really any of the things that he initially appears to be at all. Except he’s actually gentle and selfless and caring and optimistic and brilliantly intelligent and creative and funny and sweet and he’s got the same big green eyes he had when he was four and nothing bad had ever happened to him and a smile that melts your heart. Except, despite everything he’s been through, despite the mask he built over the years out of layers of false toxic masculinity and pain and shame, pieces of his real shelf cannot help but shine through.

Because you cannot trap the sun in a crate and throw a blanket over it like a shameful thing, however hard you try. You cannot box it up and cage it away from the sky. And the thing about Dean Winchester is that, however much he orbits the people around him, he is the sun. He just forgets that sometimes. And he goes to a hell of a lot of effort to make sure everyone else forgets it too.

Somehow though…I just don’t think they will.

[sunrisecaminus]

Bumblebee, Arcee, Ultra Magnus and Smokescreen reacting to human reader recovering from depression and drawing them because the autobots make them happy. Reader does whatever feels right, so sometimes the drawings actually resemble the autobots and sometimes they're coloured differently, from small things like Magnus having lighter shades of blue and gold to Smokescreen being pastel. Even the backgrounds can be fantastical, with things like pink skys and blue grass.

Message - This is so adorable! Sorry if I didn't do too much, but hopefully it's cute enough!

Bumblebee, Arcee, Ultra Magnus, Smokescreen x Reader SFW

Summary - Headcanons of their reactions to you painting them a picture of them in different styles!

Warnings - Hints of Depression

Bumblebee He was there for you everyday of your progress. Everything is so much nicer with him and it made the process of healing a lot quicker. Grabbing your easel and some paints, you watched Bumblebee talking to Ratchet and started to draw. Making the edges of his frame a lot rounder and his yellow a lot brighter, you made a lovely portrait of him. He loved it, adored it, can he hang it on the wall? Hugs is everything and Bumblebee gave you one as a thank you. Beeping at you excitedly about how much he adores the art piece. This lovable man is the reason why your life was a lot brighter and you needed to show him how much you appreciate him. He would let you on his shoulder and chill while he goes scouting so both of you can have some peace with each other alone.

Arcee This woman was one of the only bots that related to your situation the most. Yeah she wasn't human, but she showed you that you were not alone and shouldn't deal with it alone. She loves you for going above and beyond. You wanted to show her how important she was to your process so you take some paint cans and get to work on an abandoned wall. Her silhouette being painted on the wall looked mysterious, but also showed a beauty side to the image. Arcee loved it, leaning on the opposite wall of the alley way and smiling at it. "This is a masterpiece." The history of her being painted on human architecture was showing her how much you cherished her and it would be memories she would never forget, even if she still had millions of years left in her. She takes you for a ride out in the country afterwards to help you feel free.

Magnus At first, he had no idea what depression was. Searching it up, he than wanted to help you everyday anytime you needed it. Anytime you ask him if he wanted to hang out, he dropped everything to help comfort you on what you were thinking. Grabbing some colored paper, you start to make a paper origami statue of Magnus. He takes a lot of his time at work, so it wasn't hard to hide the paper sculpture from him. When you show him, he wouldn't stop complimenting your extreme detail to his color pallet and how delicate it looks. He keeps it in a glass casing in his birth to look at every night before he goes to stasis. Even after the gift, he takes his time with you and goes out star gazing to talk about your progress. Adoring everything you tell him and even taking notes for what he needs to do to help the progress continue.

Smokescreen He helped in the most Smokescreen way possible. This guy was very touchy, and tried to hug you anytime you needed one. Being as touched starved as you were at the time, it really did help you feel a lot better during your time of healing. You grabbed watercolor and thick pieces of paper to start slowly painting Smokescreen in a way no one would describe him of being. People see him as a loud mouth and annoying young mech (Ratchet's words, not yours). Drawing him in an elegant, whispy, and bright way would be impossible for others. You knew who he truly was, and was able to make every stroke look important. He loved the painting you made and kept it protected in his sub-space. Holding you like a teddy bear for the rest of the day and handing you whatever you wanted. Of course he would spoil you and snuggle your body while watching your favorite movie.

[victoriadallonfan]

Between the Otherverse, the Twigverse, and the Clawverse, which do you think Victoria Dallon would have the best time in, and which do you think she'd have the worst time in?

(Not asking about the Seekverse because I'm waiting until Seek is completed before I read it so I can binge it like I did with Worm.)

Worst time: Twig. Its literally her nightmare.

Best time: Depends heavily on a lot of factors.

Clawverse is really just our universe but every action movie plot happened at the same time. Victoria would have an easier time for much of the story because she would be the only one with any powers. On the other hand, she would also be their Superman analogue (which we see is a heavy as fuck burden) and there is a rise in white-supremacy at the end of the story. She'd be stronger than most but not strong enough to solve all the problems, and not able to retire for her mental health at any time.

Otherverse depends on how we count Victoria. Assuming an Innocent, then she can just live her life as usual. Assuming an Aware, probably a LOT of frustration as she's trying to reach out to the government to try and explain her situation, but the Spirits get in her way and sabotage her attempts to get the word out. Not to mention being Aware means Others are more likely to target you and she'd likely deal with Practitioners who view her as a powersource as well.

[talesfromawannabewriter]

@beef-brisket

For a third time in his existence Adam’s eyes fluttered to life. For a second after floating around in darkness he believed that the whiteness he saw was finally at long last peace.

The first man couldn’t have been more wrong. When his eyes finally adjusted to the light he was none other than back in his chambers.

He wanted to cry. Curse the Heavens and his creator. For putting him back onto this cruel plane of existence.

But he was just too tired. He couldn’t give any fucks anymore. He didn’t want to.

He just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up. No doubt his master would be coming by soon. He should enjoy whatever little peace he had before he left punished him.

Hopefully his little stunt hadn’t ruined his party. Or else he would most likely be facing the full force of the devils wrath.

Which didn’t so much as scare him as made him tired. Tired to deal with all that he has had to thanks to the devil’s hand.

He should have never waken up from his second death. He should have just stayed dead.

—

Lucifer sighed heavily as he stood in front of the door to Adam’s room. He was debating of whether or not he should even go in.

A day had passed since the incident and he couldn’t get the image of Adam’s blood covered corpse out of his mind.

Which was rightfully deserved but still….he had never meant for it to go this far.

He….he just wanted to teach him humility. Which is plain hypocrisy coming from the sin of pride.

Charlie had checked up on him not too long ago and though he was passed out she did feel a pulse.

Tomorrow Belphegor would come in to check on him and see how he was doing. But giving the situation Lucifer would guess it would be bad.

It was already bad enough that he couldn’t even make himself go in and talk to Adam. He felt absolutely horrible and it was eating away at the king like maggots.

….But if he wanted to actually make up for the shit he out Adam through and get some closure than the first step would be to apologize.

As his sweet daughter said before, it starts with sorry.

Making up his mind he turned the knob and walked right in. On the bed lay Adam who was at long last awake and staring up at the ceiling.

He didn’t so much as blink in his direction when he walked over to him.

Lucifer: Hey…

Adam: ….

Lucifer: I, I know you probably don’t want to see me, and I understand if you don’t, but there is something you need to hear.

Adam said nothing as he allowed Lucifer to talk.

Lucifer: I am so sorry for everything that has happened. It was never my intention to hurt you this badly. I don’t even know how it got to this point. I never wanted you to end your existence. I swear by that, and I swear I’m going to make it up to you. In any way shape or form. I promise. I’m just sorry that this happened. I really am Adam.

For a few minutes the succubus was quiet. He said nothing as he took in the king’s words. Finally after the fourth minute had passed he spoke.

Adam: ….Alright, I don’t believe you. Nor do I accept your apology.

Lucifer winced: Adam please I said I’m sorry.

Adam: I heard you and do not in any way shape or form forgive you.

Lucifer: I….I don’t think you understand I genuinely am-

Adam: No.

The demon sat up and it caused the once mighty king to flinch and almost take a step back.

Adam glared at Lucifer: You don’t get to ask for closure Lucifer. Which I know is the only reason why you are doing this. You give a total amount of zero shits about me, alright?! You are trying to cease any responsibility for your own actions. You Lucifer Morningstar need to know that it NEVER be okay between us!

Lucifer: I….I just Adam please-

Adam: I am not going to sit here and be your little prop so you can feel better about yourself Lucifer. Do you understand the words coming out of my mouth? Your apologies and promises mean absolutely nothing to me because I know they are empty!

Lucifer stood shaken as he took in Adam’s fiery gaze and voice. He had wanted this type of spark for so long that he kept pushing and pushing for it.

Now he finally had it and realized that it was absolutely terrible. He had pushed Adam over the edge and he expected him to be like his old self again.

Adam may be angry and hateful but he could tell that it was reserved only for him. He didn’t even recognize the rest of him.

He just seemed absolutely done with everything. He was done with life and existing in general.

And he knew that it was all his fault.

Without saying another word sinful demon made his way outside. When he closed the door behind him he couldn’t help himself but cry.

He slid down and hugged himself tightly. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. That everything around him was closing in on him.

He could feel his clothes sinking into his flesh. As he bled the color of gold.

But he deserved to bleed. For he was nothing more than a monster.

Charlie: DAD!

Charlie’s voice echoed through the hallway as he heard the clicking of her heels. He did his best to make himself more presentable in front of his daughter.

However, by the time she came around he was still pretty shaken up. She stopped in front of him as she took in his appearance.

Charlie: ….You talked to him didn’t you?

Lucifer said nothing and only bowed his head in shame. He heard his daughter sigh.

Charlie: As much as I’d like to discuss with you on your involvement with Adam you have bigger fish to fry.

That made the ancient being lift his head up a little. He stared at her in confusion.

Lucifer: What are you talking about?

Charlie: I just got this summons not that long ago.

She said handing him a scroll that was addressed to him. He read through and his eyes were wide in horror.

It was a summons to court. Asmodeus was suing Lucifer to release Adam from his contract and relinquish his title as the king’s mistress.

Mouthwash

(( @fanofstuff01 , let's goooo- I hope this is a good start 😫))

He never thought waking up would be so painful. But it's to be expected, to suddenly be dragged out of the peace he had yearned for, would obviously be unpleasant. But painful? He hasn't felt physical pain since his time on Earth, so why was he feeling it now?

He should be dead. But he's not.

His eyes slowly came into focus. He hadn't realised he even opened them. He was assaulted by red. It wasn't the usual red either. It was sickly, pale, and uncanny. But he recognised it. He would care if his body wasn't radiating with pain.

He slowly gathered himself and tested the waters by moving his fingers and trying to shift his body.

He eventually made it to his knees, leaning against a piece of rubble. His left arm gripped his chest, his robe soaked in golden and red blood. There should be a wound, but all he felt was risen flesh. A scar. He felt sick even thinking of his body being marked in such a way.

He glared towards the hotel, its lights bright and more alive than before. Everything he and his girls fought for was for nothing. The building was grander and more magnificent.

He felt hatred when his eyes landed on a tower on the side that was shaped like an apple. It was a mockery.

With a groan, Adam forced himself to his feet. He needed to get away from the blasted place, not wanting to see anyone that had any relation to the building or the family that ran it.

His steps were weak and uneasy, the pain turning into more of a throbbing.

Gasping, he fell against a glass window, having made it into the border of Pentagram City. This was the first time he got to look at his reflection.

Adam: ...What the fuck...?

He touched his face, he looked the same, just more well rested, and his completion looked healthy. His eyes were multiple shades of pink, and his stubble was gone.

Pulling open hos robe, he almost weeped at the sight. He was fit and lean. He looked new. Perfect.

So perfect.

He ran a hand down his face. At the same time, Adam could feel himself getting lost in his deep pink eyes. The world around him disappeared, just melted away.

Adam: I'm fucking back... who knew all I needed to do was die. Fucking Sera can stick her diets- ahh~!

Falling against the glass, Adam felt a new kind of pulsing run through him. It was a feeling he was familiar with bug he couldn't understand why he was feeling it now.

His lower stomach cramped and tensed, his nails pushed into the glass. He felt his cock harden and a strange wetness form, coating him.

All decency thrown out of the window, Adam pushed his hand into his boxers. He was relieved to feel his cock, but he what he felt next was completely unexpected.

Two fingers brushed inside of him, into something he recognized.

Adam: I-Is that a fucking... vag?

What broke what was left of his sanity was even more wetness the further his fingers went back. His ass was lubricating itself to.

He felt sick. His stomach cramped, making him cry out. A wash of pink covered his vision, giving Hell a new look, it looked so fuckable.

Sinner: Hey, man. You okay?

Adam moaned as a large hand gripped his shoulder. Looking up, his eyes locked with a large, bull looking sinner.

Adam: F-Fuck me- please, daddy~.

The sinner blinked before smirking. Adam almost screamed as his whole body pulsed with pleasure. He was thrown over the sinners' shoulders and walked a few steps down the street. Turning, Adam noticed that they were I an alley way, and there were two other sinners behind them. One looked like a spider, and the other some kind of hoofed demon.

Bull: Want us to fuck you, baby?

Adam quickly nodded, and as soon as he was dumped onto the ground, he spread his legs.

Spided: Holy shit- and this sluts free? It costs double my paycheck to fuck a whore not even half as pretty as this one.

He blushed beyond happy that these sinners approved of how he looks.

Adam: Can- take all three of you- please~. I need it so badly~.

Deer: Damn right you do, bitch.

Bull: Holy shit- he's got all the fucking parts! I'm taking his ass~.

Spider: I've got his fucking puss!

The goat smirked: Guess I have the mouth~. Keep those teeth away from me baby~.

Adam: Y-Yes daddy~.

Moving to his hands and knees, Adam opened his mouth, waiting for the sinners to enter him. He was getting so desperate that even his robe was making him moan. He's never been so sensitive.

Spider: I'm getting underneath, give you some room, big guy.

Bull: Fuck, that's hot~.

His heart raced as the sinners got into position. The goats thick, long cock rested on his lips. The spider got under Adam, his cocks head already pressed between his folds and the bull was basically vibrating as he spread Adam's cheeks apart.

The bull growled: Haven't even started yet, and this robe is pissing me off.

Adam: Rip it off- please, tear it apart~!

Laughing, the bull grabbed the collar and tore the fabric off Adam's body, bumping it to the floor.

Without any warning, the sinners pushed into Adam, their cocks felt so refreshing inside of him, rubbing and hitting multiple sensitive places inside of him.

He wanted more. He was moaning and crying as his body was rocked by the sinners. He wanted as many dicks inside him as possible.

For a moment, he thought this was a mistake. He was the first man. He shouldn't be built like this. But those thoughts had quickly left his mind. Nearly all logical thought left his mind. All Adam cared about was getting fucked, and having as much cum inside him as possible.

Bull: Fuuuck~! So fucking good~.

Adam was good. Adam was the best they were ever going to get. And he wanted all of Pride to know that to. For them to line up and each take a turning using and filling him. He nearly came from the thought alone.

He was definitely going to need some mouthwash after this.

[duusheen]

Meanwhile, in the Pollock household, things aren't getting better for Jay, and now Daphne and Leif are arguing as well 😩

[zepskies]

Aww thanks, Beth!! I had a lot of fun putting together this epilogue. But you know what they say. If you keep them wanting more, then you're doing your job right! 😂❤️❤️

Yes more Smoke Eater! Just a little drabble check in with those two (love that Breakfast Club gif!).~

I was too engrossed to take any notes, but I love how you touched on Benny. I’m so silly though because the whole time before you revealed that it was Andrea, I was wondering who the lovely lady was. Secret. It took me quite a few chapters to realise who Andrea was in Smoke Eater, too even though you mentioned her name so many times before I had. It’s like the whole Benny on the boat episode is wiped from my mind. Probably has a lot to do with the Amelia storyline

Oh yeah, I think we all wish the "Amelia" of it all was wiped from our brains, but Benny was a great addition to S8! I always thought his story with Andrea was so freakin' sad and tragic. It hurt my hopeless romantic heart, especially at the fact that Dean ultimately had to kill her in canon. 😭 In a way, Benny lost her twice. 💔

But YES, happiness for Benny in this AU (and in Smoke Eater lol)! 🥰

The whole scene with Robbie was super sweet, especially with how she in particular handled the questions. Alex - do you have any other parenting tips I could learn from, because I would be stuck on what to say and have been in a similar moment before lol

Aww I'm so glad you liked that part because it's definitely a favorite scene of mine. Girl, you're more experienced than me since you actually have kids. (I do not) 😂 But the way the reader handles that situation by waiting on Robbie to process, I actually drew from my own experience with my specialist doctor who's been helping me through an issue I've been dealing with for a year (3 surgical procedures later and still not 100% fixed). Every time he has to give me bad news, he sits and waits for me to process, work through my emotions, and ask whatever questions that come next. Not in a bored way, but in a patient and kind way. ❤️‍🩹

And the bathtub, warming their tootsies and her comments on the dress ❤️❤️❤️

hehehe considering your one-shot about Dean and reader on their wedding day, it doesn't surprise me that you like that little scene! I just loved the idea of them having a chill moment together where they touch base after getting newly married. ❤️❤️

That baby is way too old, but we’ll just ignore that. What a way to end it all on a perfect birthday present! And thank god he was present this time around and not dealing with all that kerfuffle in the halls. I forgot to mention up top how impressive it was for them to admit and be so open with their own feeling and each other about what happened with Lisa and Benny. And now their family is complete? Thank you for showing us more of these too ❤️

haha still, I love it! 🥹 Plus love both uses of "present!" 😝 Dean got to do it right this time with the reader. Also, I'm really glad you liked how they opened up to each other about what happened with Lisa and Benny. Their biggest problem in this series was lack of honest communication, so it felt like the best way to show how they've matured from the experience and mean to do better by each other and the people around them. 💕💕

You're so welcome! And thank you for sticking it out with me on this angsty ride lol

IF I STAY - Epilogue

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

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

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

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

Word Count: 6.4K

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

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Epilogue: Soul Surrender

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope so,” you reply.

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

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

But…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After a beat, he nods solemnly in agreement.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After a moment, he nods. “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He understands you. You appreciate that about him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Uh oh, Dean thinks. Did we break him?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shakes his head, and he sighs.

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

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

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

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

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

You blink at that. “Yeah, sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He misses you,” you say.

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

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

You nod. “We told him last weekend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” you say again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Louisiana,” Benny replies.

“Hmm, interesting,” she says.

He arches a curious brow. “You?”

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

Benny chuckles. “Well, all right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, did you hear about Benny?”

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

“Oh, I can’t believe you don’t know.”

“Girl, what?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you promise me something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, baby. Meet the baby,” you joke.

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

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

“She’s so tiny,” Robbie says. 

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

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

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

Dean soothes a hand over Robbie’s head.

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

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

“Yeah,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

“Game on, baby.”

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

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

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

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester Tag List (Part 1):

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

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl @kaleldobrev

@globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78

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

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

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

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

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

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

@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005 @redhoodieone

[cake-emu]

Coronation Street | Carla Connor + Daisy Midgeley (14th April 2025)

[brown-little-robin]

I think I'm in the "conscious incompetence" stage of being a social animal in the real world and it sucks so majorly. bro what do you do after you realize you're bad at socializing and then in-person interaction gets harder because you know you're failing at it now.

[itspileofgoodthings]

one of my favorite things about getting older is that I’m just more sure and more confident in taking control in social situations and making other people feel at ease. I really love it!