#don’t get me wrong I love them but like I don’t want it to get bad and dragged out

[violentdelightshavevioletends]

“Dain is just an imperfect 21-year-old kid who trusted his dad, and is a little over-protective telling his chronically ill friend to sit the fuck down.”

[beloveds-embrace]

Human!Reader being traded to Fae!Price to keep the peace. Like I heard once in ancient China, actual royal daughters wouldn't be married off, other girls would be married in their place, so maybe reader's parents volunteered her to be married instead of the king's beloved daughter?

see you perfectly get me 😩😩 i hope you don’t mind me using this as a chance to yap <3

The fae had no love for you.

You had known this from the moment you stepped into the obsidian palace, its towering spires slicing through the mist-laden sky like blades. You had been dressed in human silks then- pale, delicate, and utterly wrong in a court where darkness was beauty, where even the air shimmered with otherworldly grace. The moment you crossed the threshold, every gaze in the room had cut into you, assessing and dismissing in the same breath because not a single one of them wanted a human amongst them- least of all as their queen.

The words had not been spoken aloud, but you had felt them all the same, woven into the murmurs that rippled through the court. They had expected the human king’s beloved daughter (even if they would have hated her all the same), a princess groomed for diplomacy, raised in luxury. Instead, they had been given you- the daughter of an unimportant noble, a substitute barely trained in courtly graces but more than capable with ink and parchment, a woman who had spent years buried under the work the princess refused to do.

They had not wanted you.

And neither, it seemed, had your husbands.

King John Price, your husband, had barely acknowledged you beyond what duty required. He had spoken the vows in the old tongue, words and sounds you could never hope to replicate with a human tongue, and sealed the marriage with a kiss so fleeting it barely brushed your lips, then turned away to his own husbands- also yours, but they weren’t kings, so no kiss was required between you and them.

(The concept was still so strange to you. Humans practiced monogamy at the very least, in public- yet you had learned fae cared very little for such things.)

They were his advisors; Johnny, Simon, Kyle, and they were no different. They were powerful men, sharp as the wind over the mountains, and just as untouchable.

You were an outsider, a human intruder in a world where every glance from you was considered an insult, every word a nuisance.

They did not mistreat you, no. They simply ignored you, and you told yourself that it was worlds better than being hurt anyways… even if the loneliness hurt.

And so you threw yourself into the work. The human princess had forced all her duties on you for years, and it was no different here- except now it was fae treaties, fae disputes, fae taxes, all of which they happily let you drown in. You handled it all without complaint. The paperwork was easier to deal with than the loneliness. And if they noticed the way you handled the endless the endless paperwork that the court so conveniently let pile up on your desk, they gave no indication.

You were a human among fae. And in their eyes, that made you insignificant.

Your days blurred together in a haze of ink-stained fingers and stiff-backed chairs, the weight of the crown heavier than you had ever imagined. It might have continued that way- silent, distant, suffocating- if not for the day the Queen Mother descended upon you.

She despised humans. You could see it in the way she sneered at you, the way she spoke as if addressing something beneath her. But she was old, cunning, and- unlike her son- unwilling to let a political marriage go to waste. She had entered your chambers one evening without announcement, her presence crackling in the air like a brewing storm.

For a long moment, she had said nothing. And then:

"You look human."

You had stiffened at her tone. It was not a compliment.

"That is your first mistake."

She had circled you then, her gaze stripping you bare. "The court despises you. My son ignores you, as do his husbands- they do not even see you. Why?"

You had swallowed, resisting the urge to drop your gaze. "… Because I am human."

A flicker of a smile, cold and knowing. "No, child. Because you make no effort to be anything else. You are no longer within humans.”

That night, your wardrobe was stripped away- every pale gown, every soft fabric, every piece of jewelry that marked you as human. In their place, the Queen Mother had garments brought in that dripped with fae elegance.

Your dresses were no longer delicate, but sharp—cut to flatter the lines of your body, corseted to perfection, woven with fabrics darker than midnight and embroidered with silver-threaded fae flowers that shimmered when they caught the light. Your silks no longer billowed, but clung, whispering around you like shadows given form.

Your jewelry transformed you further. Earrings that mimicked the elongated points of fae ears, tapering into elegant curves. Rings shaped into sharp, clawed talons that gleamed when your fingers moved. Tiaras twisted into the illusion of horns, their dark metal twining like the antlers of the fae lords. Even your hair was adorned with woven fae flora, petals shifting as though alive.

When you stepped before the mirror, you barely recognized yourself.

You were still human. But you no longer looked like prey.

The court noticed first. The whispered mockery did not cease, but it changed- less scornful, more wary. Some sneered that you were playing dress-up, but others looked twice, their gazes lingering in ways they never had before.

Your husbands were slower to react, but when they did, it was irreversible. It was the point of no return- even if you did not know it at the time. Did not once suspect this had been the Queen Mother’s plan from the start.

Johnny cracked first.

One evening during another dinner where you were supposed to be ignored once more, as you reached for a goblet, he caught your hand- his calloused fingers brushing the rings now shaped like talons. His thumb grazed over the curved metal, blue eyes flicking up to yours with something thoughtful, something curious.

“…This suits you, lass."

A simple statement. But his touch lingered a moment longer than necessary. You did not allow yourself to think more of it, as he eventually turned away from you and returned to ignoring you.

Kyle was next. It was not the rings he noticed, but the way the darker fabrics shaped you, the way the fae silks whispered around your form when you moved. His sharp gaze assessed you, and when you met his eyes, he hummed- low and appreciative.

"Fascinating."

Simon was the hardest to read, but you caught the way his head tilted slightly when you walked past him, the way his gaze lingered on the flowers adorning you, unreadable but lingering. He did not speak on it. He never did speak to you, not eveb now. But he watched.

And for the first time since your marriage to John, he truly looked at you; not past you. Not through you. But at you.

The next time you stood before him, spine straight, chin lifted, cloaked in the elegance of the fae, John leaned back in his seat, exhaling slowly. His eyes raked over you in quiet thoughts, but there was something different this time- something sharper, darker.

You had changed.

And the court had noticed.

He had seen the way the nobles looked at you now- the way their gazes lingered too long on the curve of your throat, the bare skin exposed by the daring cut of your gown. The way their admiration had shifted, no longer dismissive but hungry. Once, they had sneered at your presence, insulted by the mere thought of a human in their midst. Now, they sought your attention, vying for your favor with soft smiles and murmured compliments.

It soured something in him.

His fingers curled against the armrest of his throne, a slow, thoughtful movement. He knew he had no right to feel this way. He had ignored you first. Had dismissed you, had treated you as a necessity rather than a wife. And yet-

He did not like the way they looked at you.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the way the others reacted as well. Kyle’s jaw was tight, his gaze sharp whenever a noble leaned too close. Johnny had grown restless, the usual brightness in his eyes dimming whenever he caught another fae whispering to you, their voices dipped too low. And Simon was a shadow at the edge of the room, silent, unmoving, but his cold stare was a warning, his claws tapping idly against the hilt of the dagger at his belt.

They saw it, too.

You were theirs.

And now, far too many in this court seemed to be forgetting that.

John’s grip on the chair tightened before he forced himself to relax, schooling his expression back into something unreadable.

Well, he may have been a neglectful husband to you in the beginning… but no time better than the present to fix his mistake.

[ashwhowrites]

Can you do angst # 26 a bit of a longer fic where Eddie and reader have been married for a couple years and as the years go on the reader starts to feel neglected in their relationship because of him prioritizing his band (or any job you write in). She comes to a breaking point after he overhears a convo on the phone that she has with a coworker and gets jealous, and they get into a fight where she says he's not the person she married or how she feels alone in their relationship. You can decide the end ( if eddie redeems himself or this could be the end of them)

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting ❤️

A new you

“You’re not the same person I married, don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

The dream was for Eddie's career to take off after they got married. Y/N wanted to get married and try for kids before he had to pack up and travel around the world. Everything was going perfectly in the beginning, they were happy and constantly trying for a baby.

But once the band got their name in the stars, Y/N realized her and their marriage got set on the back burner. Eddie spent all his hours in the studio, or at home in his music room as the door was closed. And when the door was closed, that meant Y/N couldn't disturb him.

At first, she didn't want to do anything about it. It was new and exciting and she understood it took a lot of Eddie's time and energy. But months turned into years and now they sat in a marriage that felt like roommates. She missed her husband, she missed his time, his touch and him.

She was hurt she got pushed aside and it hurt even more that they hadn't tried for a baby in months. He has been so caught up with the band that he barely was home, and when he was, it was to drop in bed and be gone by morning. She missed the way their relationship used to be. Back when he looked at her with love and wanted to be with her. Now it seemed he could care less about her.

She tried to talk to him about it but it was nearly impossible. She was at the break of giving up. The thought of leaving him behind and moving on. It was clear he didn't have any mind to save the marriage. Hell, he probably didn't notice it was drowning to begin with. The longer it went on, the more lonely she felt.

"Hey, Eddie?" She whispered, his body next to hers as they lay separately in the bed.

"Hm?" He mumbled, half asleep as his head was buried in the pillows.

"Can you take some time off from the band? Maybe a weekend and we can go off somewhere together?" She asked, rolling over to face him. His eyes weren't open, but the lack of snores told her he was still awake.

"Sure, honey. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

She wasn't shocked that the conversation never happened. It was like he lived a whole different world on his side of the bed. She was close enough to touch him, yet she almost felt like it wasn't her place. She hated that she felt conflicted about wanting to kiss or touch her husband. But anytime she tried, it ended with him pushing her off and her feeling stupid for trying.

She was stuck in a one-sided relationship and she had no idea what to do.

~~~

"I'm going to grab dinner tonight with a co-worker so I might not be home when you are," she explained as she dressed herself. Eddie hummed from the bathroom, spitting out his toothpaste as he half-listened.

"Would you like me to bring you back something?" She asked, walking into the bathroom. She admired how he looked as he brushed his teeth. His messy hair and shirtless chest. She bit her lip as she slowly walked closer to him, the desire to be touched by him was increasing.

"No, I'll send someone to grab something," he shrugged, barely noticing her body as he walked past her and out of the bathroom.

"Or I could bring something to you before I go? We aren't going until like seven," she offered, following behind him. "Maybe give us a chance to talk?"

Eddie threw on his jeans as he looked at her, confused. "Why would you do that?"

She sighed as she tried to remain calm. "Because I'm your wife, Eddie. I'd like to have time with you."

"Look I don't have time for this conversation again. If you stop by, cool. If you don't, that's cool too. But I have to go. Have fun at dinner."

Without a kiss, he went right out the door.

~

Y/N held her stomach as she tried not to fall out of her chair laughing. Her insides were all clenched as she gasped for air.

"I truly didn't think I was that funny," Logan laughed as he watched her dry her tears.

She calmed herself down, wiping the tears that leaked as she took a big sigh. As the laughter died, she realized how good it felt. She hadn't laughed in what felt like forever. Eddie was the funniest person she'd ever met, but she couldn't remember the last time he cared to make her crack a smile. The thought changed her mood slightly, Logan fast to pick up on it.

"You okay?" He asked, sipping on his glass of wine as she prepared to lie. But she wanted to say it, she needed to clear her brain and maybe she'll sleep better at night.

Within seconds she was spiraling. Telling Logan all about her marriage. How it started so beautifully and how she wished she could do anything to get it back.

Even when he treated her like she was nothing, she wished it was him sitting across from her.

~

She sighed as she walked into the quiet house. Eddie's car was nowhere in the driveway. She was tempted to drive herself to the studio but she knew that would do nothing in her favor. She climbed into the empty bed, trying to blink away the tears as she fell asleep.

~~~

After dinner with Logan, he asked her to go a few more times. They exchanged their numbers and she spent most of her time talking to him as she waited all night for Eddie to come home. She appreciated having a friend.

~

"Friday? I mean I should be free. What did you want to do?" Y/N asked, phone against her ear as she scrubbed the dishes.

Eddie slipped into the house, checking his watch as he set down his guitar case. Another late night, he planned to go straight to bed but he heard talking and movement from the kitchen. He was surprised Y/N was still awake.

"I mean, that restaurant is beautiful, and I've always wanted to go. But isn't it a bit romantic?" She asked

Eddie's ears perked up, close enough to hear a man speaking on the other line.

"So? I think you deserve a little romance in your life."

Before Y/N had the chance to say something, or acknowledge Eddie's presence, Eddie was grabbing the phone and hanging it up.

"Edward!" Y/N scolded, reaching for her phone but Eddie shoved it in his back pocket.

"Who the fuck was that?" He asked, clearly fuming.

"Logan, from work," Y/N answered

"Why is Logan wanting to take you out? Uh? Doesn't he know you're married?"

Y/N couldn't help but scuff. "He does, do you?"

"What does that mean?" Eddie asked

"Maybe if you made time to talk to me, you'd understand," she said as she brushed past him. But he was right about her tail. Crazy how he suddenly was wide awake and interested in her.

"Talking right now aren't we?"

Y/N began to angrily make the bed. "No, now it's an argument. You have been ignoring me, abandoning me for that stupid band. I made a friend, it's not my fault he happens to be interested in hanging out with me. Why would I say no? So I can enjoy another lonely night on the couch wondering why my husband hates me?" She took a deep breath as she tried to remain calm.

"Oh don't be dramatic, hate you? Of course, I don't hate you!" Eddie fought, "and you have other friends! Don't you think it's inappropriate for him to ask you somewhere romantic?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, smacking the pillows down. "So yeah, it might be a little inappropriate. Would I let it go somewhere inappropriate? Absolutely not. But maybe this is the wake-up call you need. Because Eddie, the way we are going, I don't want that for my future."

"You don't want me in your future?" Eddie asked, slightly hurt as she sat on the bed.

"I do! But the old Eddie. You’re not the same person I married, and don’t tell me I’m wrong. You are completely different and I'm unhappy," Y/N explained. She looked down at the ring on her finger, "We were supposed to make a family, Eddie."

Eddie felt his anger melting away as she held herself. "We can still have a family, baby." He said softly as he walked over.

"Don't bother lying to me because I'm so close to being done," Y/N bitterly laughed. She ignored his body as he sat across from her, placing a hand on her knees.

"I'm not lying! But you knew this was the dream when we got married."

"FUCK THE DREAM, EDDIE!" She yelled as she stood up. "You have been living the dream for years. What about mine? What about the kids and the big house? You knew my dream when we got married! But mine is not as important? You're different and I hate it."

"Oh, so you hate who I am?" Eddie scoffed, standing up. "I didn't purposely ignore your dream; it's just mine. I was on the tracks and already going. I'm sorry I got caught up in it. I'm guilty of that."

"Yes I do, Eddie!" She spat, staring into his darkening eyes, "I hate this version of you. I want my husband back. The guy who loved me and couldn't breathe without me. You used to love me like crazy, we were never apart. You used to take care of me, hold my hand, and open every door. I used to feel so fixed in your arms, Eddie," she cried, "now? This is the longest we've seen each other in months. Are you seeing someone? Or did you just wake up one day and decide you hated your life with me?"

"Someone else? You really think I'm seeing someone else?" Eddie scoffed, "I'd never do that and I can't believe you think I would. And especially after your new friend asked you on a fucking date!"

"What am I supposed to think? We haven't had sex in months! What happened? We used to have no issues with intimacy. And now we have nothing. Are you not attracted to me anymore? Is that the problem?"

"You're supposed to think I'm loyal and that I'm exactly where I said I would be. I've been at the studio working my ass off. So I'm tired when I come home. I still think you are the most gorgeous woman I've seen, but I'm exhausted when I come home, and I don't want sex."

"What's the point of a marriage if you only care to be at the studio? Hell, move out and live in the damn fucking place." She spat, "I'm done being pushed aside. I'm not going to put effort into a relationship with you when you don't even care to be in it." She cried.

Eddie tried to blink away his own tears as he watched her cry. "So do you want a divorce? Because I don't. It's clear I've fucked up, and I need to work on many things, but in no way do I want to let you go," He asked, his voice cracking as the reality of the question made his insides clench. He hated himself for getting to this point. All he had to do was love her the way she deserved.

"I don't want to leave, and I don't want you to leave. But I need you to be that way again. Please just love me like you used to," she sobbed. Eddie couldn't stop the silent tears that fell down his face as he stood and pulled her into his arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he cried, "I don't want either of us to leave, baby. I love you, so fucking much," he kissed her head. "I'm going to fix this. I'm going to put you and this marriage first. The exact way it should be."

"Can we talk about it in the morning? I just want to sleep next to you," she cried. Eddie softly moved them to the bed, wrapping his arms around her.

She melted into his arms, enjoying the feeling that she hadn't felt in so long. She wasn't sure what tomorrow would bring. If he'd wake up a changed man or wake up the same. She wasn't sure if her marriage was being saved or going under. But right now she felt at home in his arms and that's what she needed for the night.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123 @emxxblog

[noreasontobebland]

Sylus x Black Female Reader

You and Sylus Answer Sex Questions Based on Your Relationship (Questions 1-4)

“I’m going to bed.”

“Sylus!”

It’s not often you and him have time alone like this. He’s always managed to make time for you regardless, but you can’t help to feel like you’re a burden when you do so(he’s also established he genuinely loves being with you but I digress)

So when you spent the evening in his bedroom on the laptop and seen a questionnaire on tumblr you of course clicked on it.

And of course Sylus being Sylus he was so about to couldn’t indulge in your silly antics with him again.

“C’mon pleaseeee…I wanna know what you think—-“

“Think about what? How I make love to you? I think it’s one of the best and intoxicating experiences of my life and I cherish every sound, scream, and move you make when you’re under me. Goodnight.”

Oh you hated when he did that.

You peaked over his broad back facing you and began to teasing your finger on his bare chest. “Please.”

Sylus knows that will always co-sign on any idea you give him to partake on, it’s just you still seem to believe him when he teases you about it. It’s a fun game for him to see you beg sometimes.

“What do I get in return if I play this game?”

“I’ll suck your dick.”

“That sounds like a win win situation for us both instead of just me winning.”

Huffing at the fact that it’s true…you do enjoy giving him head, “Whatever you want. Please.”

“Let’s make it more interesting; with every 2 questions I answer, you owe me one favor. Deal?”

“There’s 20 questions.”

“Then I guess you’ll be owing me 10 fold.”

“Oh you are so—“

“Question 1.” He takes your laptop into his lap, pulling you by his side with a curled smirk, “How satisfied are you with your partner in bed? Scale 1-10.”

“….”

Sylus tilts his head at you, “Ladies first.”

“….very.”

“Oh don’t be shy now, sweetie you brought this up….give me a full sentence…”

“I am extremely…satisfied with our sex life. And to scale it…12/10.”

Sylus looks back at the laptop with a deadpanned look, “Just 12? I was going to give you a better score than that…seems I’m not doing enough to exceed your expectations.”

“No! No you are! You’re amazing in bed! Remember? Last night? I practically shouted about how much I love—-“

You begin to realize form the amused smile in his face he was just clearly fucking with you once again. And you pout, “You ass.”

“You are well above any lover I could ever have. You’re extremely attentive to what I want from you and to scale it…it’d be broken.”

It’s honestly astonishing to you how honest Sylus can be with you, you should be used to it by now, but he always seems to keep you on your toes with his words of affirmations.

“Question 2…What is something you never told your partner, but always wanted to do with them?…oh.”

“Is your fantasy that bad—?”

“No! I just….i don’t know I never really had any fantasies. You introduced me to everything….and I’m still learning from you new things so…”

You finally began to see a hint of blush flood his ears and cheek, despite having his famous poker face at you, you weren’t wrong he took all your first, and practically taught you what you knew now, and he still had a lot more he wanted to teach you. He leans back on the leather headboard and pretends to think, “I do have a fantasy myself, but I’ll save it for one of our IOU’s.”

“Heeeyy no fair!”

He hums before turning back to the laptop, “Question 3…What is something you won’t do even if your partner asked.”

“Interesting…well since you’re not that experienced—“

“Hey!”

“As long as it’s nothing that puts you in complete pain then I really won’t say no to anything.”

“What about pegging?”

He just stares at you with an unreadable look, “How do you—-?”

“I probably wouldn’t say no to you either. I trust you wouldn’t wanna do anything too bad…”

“Anal plug?”

“….moving on.”

“Question 4…What is something your partner does in bed you love?”

“Hm…its a lot but…well…maybe how you reach your arms out to me to kiss you while you’re cumming…you’re so cute—“

“OKAAYYUHHHH!”

“What?” He chuckles, “Don’t you love my honesty?”

“Thank you, Sylus….” You sigh trying to think, “I love how you…talk to me during. Y’know telling me in my ear how well I’m doing and if I’m alright. You sound…hot.”

You look up at him seeing his sly smirk, he kisses your temple before whispering, “Your comfort while I fuck you is hot to me as well.”

[invincibledc]

₊˚⊹⋆

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄₊˚⊹⋆

────୨ৎ────

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐗 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅!𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Summary: you think you’re heavy? Mark wants all your heavy love onto him.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Info: inspired by odetari’s music of “heavy love” Hehhe. Werewolf!boyfriend!reader x mark grayson small work here!

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Genre: lime/comfort(?)

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Warning: slight aka suggestive work. Yknow what yeah it’s lime. Reader doubting Mark’s strength and this being mark before season 3

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Word count: 1,008

Lying down on Mark’s bed, you couldn’t help but keep scrolling through pages on Instagram. Littered with tons of fangirls yapping about how invincible could bench press a whole building if he wanted to.

You scoffed at this, sure mark was strong. But he can’t be that strong.

Shit, you’re a big guy. Not chubby, but just big. Mark is shorter than you, but loves to top you.

You cannot fuck that little ass dog, he does the fucking. Either way, you keep scrolling throughout your for you page, looking at some news.

Mark comes into his room, walking over as he held your favorite soda in hand. “Heyyy, guess what I found in the fridge. “No way, [fav.soda]! Give it here.” You say up quick to grab at it.

Mark moves back before you could even really reach the damned beverage.

“Ah ah, what do we say?” Mark teased with a knowing smile.

“I won’t say it.”

“Cmon… it’s in the paper of being boyfriends. You have to say it.”

Grumbling, you looked at him. “Thanks.. daddy.”

Mark chuckles under his breath before giving you the drink. “That’s better, baby.” He hands you the drink. You gave him the middle finger, sick of his shit. Mark lets out another laugh before he rest up against you.

You drank the soda, ignoring his lingering eyes onto your pectorals. He’s always had the weird urge since dating you to just, grab them. And now here he is, staring at them as he looks at your stoic face.

“Can I?” He says softly, he reaches his hand towards it. Just to cup it. But a hand smack leaves him with a pout.

“No. No touching til I say so.”

“Yes sir.” Mark says with a grin. You couldn’t help but laugh, despite his position in this relationship. You walk him like dog, okay not really but he’s such a munch for his boyfriend.

You guys started to relax a bit, day turned into night. You were casually out of the showers, mark had already finished his. He sat at his desk, looking through his computer with a bored look.

Hearing the bathroom door open, he turns his head to see you walk into his room, closing it. His eyes rank over your body. Hunger written onto his expression, but not the “ooh food” hunger.

But hunger for a certain man. And that man is you.

“Hey.” He says softly, leaning back into his chair. He pats his lap, you raised a brow. You oddly felt conscious about your build. You shake your head, moving over to his bed to lay down.

Mark frowns, turning his eyes to see you lay down. You usually sit on his lap, at any chance like any chance he gets to touch you.

He yearns to touch you, to be by you. He can’t live a moment without not being by you or at least having a handful of you.

“What’s wrong?” He says, not even trying to hide his concern. “It’s nothing.” You simple said, going onto your phone.

You were clearly hiding something, he always can tell when something was up with you. He gets from his desk, moving towards you.

“Cmon… something’s bothering you babe.” Sighing, you confessed to him. “Okay so I scrolled onto instagram and seen some of your,” you air quoted mid sentence, “fangirls talking about you can just bench press anything like a building.” “I could.” “Shut up I’m not finished mark.” Mark held up his hands in a surrendering gesture before putting them down and listening.

“You’re still human mark, no way in hell could you just lift up a building. Hell I don’t think you can even lift me.” Mark scrunched his face up.

“Yes I can.”

“No you can’t.”

“Do you even know who my dad is, y/n?” You raised a brow as he sat down, letting the bed sink a bit. “Yeah. He’s Omni man.” Mark nods, “and I’m his son. I know I don’t tell you much. But I’m sure I can show you how I can handle you.”

It all happened so quickly. Mark lifts you onto him, you could feel him squeeze your muscular thighs. His eyes blown out as he stares at you as if you lifted the entire stars and galaxy. “I can’t get how you think I can’t just lift you up and destroy you.” He says lowly. His voice low and deep, dripping with lust.

“Well.. do it.” A dark smirk reaches his face as his hands goes up onto your hips, giving them a quick squeeze.

“As your command.” He starts to kiss your neck, leaving you let out a soft sigh. You can feel him grazing his teeth against your Adam Apple.

His hands pressing against your ass, squeezing it. You yelp a bit, feeling flustered despite the times he’s done this before. He then kissed you, your lips mingling with his.

He bites your bottom lip, looking up at you whilst you had your arms around his neck. His hands leaves your hips to go under your shirt.

Caressing your abs to your chest, god he presses his lips harder against your own. You taste so good to him, his fingers rubbing against the bud of your nipples. Cupping your chest, you moan against his lips, breathing heavy.

As mark goes to take your shirt off, Debbie bursts in. That made you immediately get off mark, leaving mark devastated in his mind but flustered on the outside.

“Mom!”

“What? I just want to say goodnight to you both… but if you guys are doing anything weird in here. Keep it down to a minimum.” Debbie then leaves, leaving you and mark a little embarrassed.

“Uh… wanna just cuddle for the night?” Mark asked as he turned to you. “Yeah.. that’ll be nice.” You said with a slight smile.

You and mark laid down after he turned the lights off and placed the covers over you both.

Guess you forgot how strong he could be….

[rosenclaws]

Okay—don’t know if this fulfills the type of prompt you’re looking for but: Marie asking Logan to play Barbie’s with her. He somehow ends up wearing a princess crown

Babysitting || Worst!Logan x Reader

warnings: fem!reader, she/her pronouns are used and the reader is referred as mom

a/n: Man I just love writing Wolverine being a dad omfggg anyways I hope you enjoy!!!

"You promise you don't mind?"

You're rushing around your apartment trying to get ready for work. Just your luck you got called in for an emergency and your babysitter wasn't able to come on such short notice.

In the midst of your panic Logan knocked on your door like a knight in shining armor. Though this knight was caring an empty tupperware that you had given him leftovers in.

Logan had heard you talking to yourself in a panic. He tries not to eavesdrop but you were being louder than usual so being the good...uh boyfriend? Friend, Neighbor? You haven't really figured that part out yet.

Anyways being the good person that he is he came down to see what was wrong.

"I'm sure, she's a nice kid how hard can it be?" He says with a shrug and you resist the urge to scoff. He was doing you a huge favor afterall.

"Pick up is at 3pm, I'll be home by 6 and I'll grab dinner." You grab your bag and hurry out the door.

Logan glances at the clock. It's almost 3 so he better get a move on. Maries school was a short walk from the apartment. He can't but notice just how much he stands out among the other parents here for pick up and drop off.

He winces when he hears the shrieking laughter coming from the playground. Parents come and go, collecting their kids and listening to them talk about their day. He glances to the side and sees a little boy staring at him with wide eyes. In his hands was a wolverine figurine. Logan just smirks, putting his finger up to his lips telling the kid to keep quiet.

"Kitty!" Logan looks up to see Marie running towards him.

"Hey kid, your mom had to go to work so it's just me and you for a couple hours." He lifts Marie up into his arms.

Taking her backpack and slinging it onto his shoulder. The damn thing fit just a little too tight around his biceps and shoulders. As he walks home she rambles on about her day. Logan listens as she plays with the collar of his shirt.

"And then we wrote about our favorite animal and we got to draw it and Ms. K put all of our drawings on the wall."

"Yeah? What's your favorite animal?" Logan asks as he digs around for the key you gave him.

"Kitty cats!" Logan flinches as she practically shouts in his ear.

"Oh yeah? I couldn't tell." As he opens the door he sets her down, placing her stuff near the door as she goes running to her room.

Logan sits on the couch and stretches out, pick up is done so now he just has to make sure Marie doesn't die or get a tattoo or do anything stupid. As soon as he reaches for the remote he hears the little pitter of her feet.

She pokes her head around the wall and looks at Logan with those puppy dog eyes. He groans, knowing she was about to ask him something he won't be able to say no to.

"Will you play Barbie's with me? Mommy promised me she'd play today." She asks. Pulling two dolls from behind her back. Logan just sighs, putting his hands in his head.

"Wouldn't you rather color or something? Or we can watch that show with that annoying blue dog." He tries to bargain but Marie stands firm. She wants Barbie's. It's that or nothing. So Logan just nods his head.

"Okay fine. But only for an hour. Max."

An hour max his ass because Marie wouldn't let him leave. Every time he tried to end Barbie dress up her little eyes would fill with tears and Logan would quickly promise to keep playing. Just the threat of her tears was enough to make him fold. So here he is. At the will of a 6 year old.

"Logan? Marie? I'm home!" He hears your voice and your footsteps get closer.

"Mommy!" Marie yells.

"I brought pizza it's on the counter..." Your voice trails off as you appear in the doorway.

Marie runs past you straight to the bathroom to wash her hands before dinner. Logan is sitting on the ground, having broken the small wooden chair Marie insisted he sit on at firs. A plastic princess crown sits on his head and he has pink glitter nail polish messily painted onto his nails.

"Barbie tea party?" You ask, trying to hide your laughter.

"Yeah. You've raise a very manipulative child you know that?" Logan says as he stands up.

"All you have to do is say no Logan." You reach over and fix the crown so that it rested evenly on his head. His hair tuffs sticking out of the crown just above the fake jewels.

"Well she's very convincing." He hums.

Your hands fall back to your sides but you don't move from the doorway. Something about seeing him so willing to spend time with Marie, to entertain her silly games and even let her paint his nails.

It just means a lot. Logan...he didn't sign up for all of this but he's willingly brought himself into your life and you don't want him to leave. But is he here for Marie? Or would he stick around for you too?

"How do I look?" He asks, snapping you out of your question sprial.

"Huh?" You ask. He shrugs and crosses his arms, his biceps bulging out of his flannel shirt.

"You're staring at me sweetheart, thought I'd ask if you like what you see." He purrs.

Your eyes widen as he slowly backs you against the wall. Even with the pink nails and the plastic crown Logan was all consuming. There's just something so attractive about his paternal instincts.

"You look good." You squeak out.

"Just good?" He asks and you swear your brain starts to short circuit.

"Mommy! I'm hungry." Marie's voice makes Logan jump back, his cockiness fades away as he reaches up and takes the crown off.

"I'll be right there baby. Just go sit down." You say with a smile. You glance back at Logan for a moment, a beat of silence as you stare into each others eyes. Your heart is still racing. He gently places the crown on Marie's bed and walks past you to the kitchen.

"Fuck." You whisper. What was that?

You pretend like you weren't pressed up against the wall by Logan just moments ago and serve everyone a slice of pizza. You listen as Marie tells you about her day and playing with Logan. It's so utterly domestic. But soon Marie's bedtime comes around and it's time to say goodbye.

"Kitty can you pick me up from school tomorrow?" Marie asks sleepily.

"Oh baby Logan's very busy-"

"I don't mind" Logan cuts in.

"Gives me something to do during the day. As long as you don't mind." he adds on the last part quickly. Before you can answer Marie does it for you.

"Yes!" She squeals.

"Marie wait!" You call but she's already gone to her room.

"Are you sure Logan? I know it's a lot. That we can be a lot."

"Sweetheart, I like spending time with her, with you." Logan says softly.

He's really grown to care about Marie and you. A lot. More than he's willing to admit out loud right now. The two of you aren't a lot to Logan. In fact you're just what he needs. This normalcy and kindness. Being around the two of you makes him feel like he really can be more than the man he used to be.

"Okay, thank you Logan. You don't know how much everything you've done means to us." You place your hand on his arm, squeezing it gently.

"See you tomorrow sweetheart." He throws you a wink as he shuts the door.

He stays for just a moment. He hears your footsteps get farther away and he lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding. As he heads back to his apartment he starts to feel dread creeping up his throat. Who is he kidding? Can the Wolverine really go and play babysitter? He's not...he's not good for you or for Marie. But he cares about the two of you and he's too selfish to let you go now.

"How was your date with the hot mom downstairs?" Wade asks as Logan steps into the apartment.

"It wasn't a date I was just helping out." Logan mumbles as he opens the fridge and searches for a beer, only finding a root beer instead.

"Hey we listen and we don't judge. Everyone has a type. Yours just happens to be MILFS."

Logan shoots daggers at Wade as he pops off the top of the bottle.

"Shut the fuck up." A surge of jealousy hitting him like a truck at the idea of Wade even thinking of you like that. Wade just smirks, loving just how easy it is to push his buttons.

"Man you're just racking up those father figure roles aren't you Hugh." Wade sighs. Logan choose to ignore whatever nonsense Wade was spitting from his mouth and head right to bed.

Closing his eyes he just wonders how far he'll let himself sink into your lives. A small part of him hopes forever.

[themultifanshipper]

Carlos knew the backstory. Everybody did. It was front page news for weeks. 

Despite the divorce being mostly Charles' fault, he'd taken it like a betrayal. And when you signed with Ferrari as his teammate, the world of Formula One imploded. 

Warnings: threesome, angry sex, bickering, double penetration, reader is a vessel for Charlos to be insane about each other, quite angsty ngl, I had Cruel by Tori Amos on repeat while I wrote this  

Charles' ego never fully recovered from any of it. Even at the start, the fact that you rose through the junior categories so fast, that you got to formula one after him and yet still managed to keep up with him in your rookie season was too much to bare.  

He almost quit. Your Ferrari contract was the closest he ever came to truly losing it. 

He almost sued Fred. For what he didn't know, but someone had to pay. 

You'd been teammates for less than a season when it happened. 

You'd beaten him. In your third F1 season, in equal machinery, in the fastest car on the grid. No safety cars, no technical problems. 

You'd beaten him. Fair and square. 

He physically couldn't handle it.  

He almost smashed his helmet when he got out of the car, all the rage that had built inside him for the past year since he'd discovered you'd signed was about to be unleashed. 

Carlos found himself at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Or the very right place, depending on how you look at it. 

He was walking past the door of your driver's room, on his way to talk to Charles, when he heard what sounded like a screaming match coming from inside. 

Something akin to panic rose inside him and he decided to intervene before either of you got seriously injured. 

It had happened before. You and Charles got a race ban. Fred almost had a heart attack when he got the news that he had to find 2 reserve drivers for a race.

So Carlos stormed in, ready to separate you but he quickly realised his mistake. 

It wasn't a screaming match. Well not really. 

Your loud cries were mostly moans, with angry words thrown in. And Charles was panting above you, responding to everything with as much venom as he could. 

While fucking you. 

It was the strangest thing Carlos had ever seen. The argument was so heated neither of you noticed he was there and he just watched wordlessly while Charles held you down and ploughed into you angrily as you shouted abuse at him. 

Another thing he noticed was that neither of you were really undressed. Charles's race suit was just pushed down around his thighs along with his fireproofs, and you still had your fireproof top on, you bottoms were hanging off one of your legs as if Charles had ripped them off in his haste to get you exposed.  

“What the fuck” 

Carlos couldn't help the words from escaping him and of course your head turned towards him just as he took a step back to go back out the way he'd come. 

“What the fuck do you want?” You snapped. 

Charles stopped fucking you in favour of looking at his ex-teammate. 

“Don't talk to him like that. He's the only person here who doesn't hate you” 

“Is that why you've got your dick inside me, Charles? Because you hate me?” 

“Yes. But I bet he wouldn't mind having his dick inside you either, isn't that right Carlos?” 

The Spaniard opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out as he felt his blood pumping faster and louder in his ears than usual. 

“Don’t be shy, I know you want her” 

The ability to make split-second decisions was vital in their line of work. 

Carlos' jaw clicked shut, and so did the door as he closed it and made his way over to you. 

“I bet you're loving this” you spat at Charles “You've always wanted to show Carlos how much better you are than him” 

You hit a nerve there. 

“Carlos, come over here and make her shut up for me please” 

“Oh you're capable of saying please now? I don't think you've ever said it to me…” 

He thrusted into you as hard as he could to make you stop talking, and your cry of pain made him throb. 

“Carlos, put something in her mouth, now” 

Carlos had seen Charles angry before, perks of being a Ferrari driver for three years, but he'd never seen him look quite so deranged. 

Charles turned you over onto your knees and shoved his cock back inside you roughly.

He pinned your arms behind your back and held you still while Carlos approached. The spaniard kneeled in front of you, pulling his cock out of his fireproofs to stroke it in front of your face. 

This was weird for him, but just like in his career, he wasn't one for ignoring opportunities that presented themselves to him. 

“Suck him” Charles growled and you opened your mouth to take Carlos halfway down. 

Charles wasn't having any of that. He thrust into you and made you gag around Carlos, and the older man groaned as his fingers tangled in your hair. 

Charles knew you could take the rough treatment, but there was a part of him that hoped you were struggling, that somehow he was giving you retribution for all the shit you pulled during the race. 

And in his life. 

It was brutal, and Carlos was just along for the ride as he watched Charles's punishing thrusts push you further down on his cock. 

He pulled you off after only a few minutes because it was getting to him way too fast for his liking. The whole situation was frying his brain.

You heaved in a breath and crawled up his body, coming face to face with him.  

“I know you've always wanted me” you panted, lips inches from his, and it took everything in him to not close the distance and devour you. He couldn't do that to Charles. 

“Wanna know a secret?” You voice was getting shakier as Charles' cock was hitting your sweet spot dead on because of the change of angle. 

Carlos gulped, eyes darting back and forth between your lidded eyes and spit-slick lips that were parted in a half smirk. 

“Sure” he whispered, uncertain. 

“Charles…” you moaned, visibly right on the edge of your orgasm “Charles has always wanted to fuck you” 

And with that your body collapsed against his as you moaned loudly and rode out the waves of euphoria. 

His eyes landed on Charles and got a powerful shock to his system when he saw that Charles was already staring at him.

His eyes were dark while he continued the languid movement of his hips. 

That revelation felt like a punch to the gut, and it's a good thing that nothing was touching his cock in that moment because would have come on the spot just at the way Charles was looking at him. He'd never seen so much raw want in someone's eyes before. 

Charles had a plan forming in his head. He wanted Carlos to fuck you. 

He wanted you to get fucked. Not just in the literal sense, he wanted you to get. Fucked. 

He needed you to feel his pain.

You were so high on adrenaline from your first orgasm you barely registered Charles' spit soaked fingers slipping inside your ass. 

Your muscles were loose so he didn't meet much resistance as he stretched you out, just enough to take his cock without any problems. 

He hadn't done this in a while. Not with you, and he'd forgotten how slick you got from this, how much your body craved it. 

And he craved it just as much. 

So without further ado he pulled out of your sweet cunt and pushed in to your other twitching hole slowly. 

It was torture, it was heaven, it was too fast and too slow. 

It was... perfect.

As if rehearsed, Carlos shuffled closer, trapping you between the two men's bodies, and you felt his wet tip poke your inner thigh. 

“Carlos” you breathed, “Fuck me, please- I need you inside me” 

It was like he was in a trance, he nodded at you, intense eyes following the movement of your tongue wetting your lips. 

He hooked a hand under one of your thighs, lifting it to wrap it around his hip before lining himself up. He pushed the tip in, and groaned when he felt your velvety walls swallow him in greedily. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked 

“No you cannot!” Charles growled at him.

“I wasn't talking to you” Carlos snapped back but you didn't let either of them say another word as you grabbed Carlos' hair and smashed your lips together messily. 

Charles grunted and decided to focus on the way his cock was stretching your puffy rim around it. 

Carlos pushed in to the hilt and all three of you groaned. The fullness overwhelmed you and you had to take a second to breathe while the two men realised they could feel each other inside your body. 

You felt completely boneless, pushed to the limit by the guys inside you, selfishly chasing their own pleasure while you struggled to hold onto your sanity. 

You hadn't even noticed them lock lips. 

You were squeezed between their bodies while Carlos' hand weaved its way into Charles' hair to pull him into a filthy kiss, all tongue and teeth. 

The drag of their cocks inside you made you feel full and overstimulated, but you felt like you would die if they stopped, it felt too good. 

They were basically ignoring your presence, the body they felt between them was invisible while they made out, so to them it felt like they were mutually fucking each other. 

And if they were honest with themselves, this had been a long time coming.  

You saw them when they were teammates. You and Charles were at the dreg-end of your marriage and of course the tension and chemistry between the two men was undeniable, to you, and to anyone that possessed a functional pair of eyes. 

And here they were, wrapped around the barrier that both separated them and brought them together. 

You and Charles were over, but maybe, just maybe, there was hope. 

Hope for what? No idea. But this was certainly quite a bit of change in a short space of time, and there was no way of going back after this. 

Charles was approaching his end, and Carlos was lost in the feeling of the wet tight heat around his cock. 

“Gonna come” Charles grunted and Carlos hummed.  

“Go on then Charles” he growled, still holding the younger man's head close by his hair. “Come for me” 

The slight tug on his scalp made Charles lose it, and he cried out while his hips jerked uncontrolably. 

Carlos wasn't far behind, and they both filled you to the brim as your own body jerked with the shock of a weak orgasm they somehow managed to pull out of you at the very last moment. 

Charles pulled his fireproofs back on properly and gave you a disgusted look. 

“Next time you know what to expect.” 

He stormed out, leaving you and Carlos in a tense silence. 

You were slumped against the back of the couch, not making any move to clean yourself up. 

You were staring at the floor. Carlos felt the need to ask you if you were alright. 

“I'm fine. I can handle Charles, we were married for 4 years…” you gulped and kicked off the fireproofs that were still clinging to your leg. 

“I'm sorry” 

You looked at Carlos. “For what?” 

“I've wanted you for a long time” he said simply, and your gaze softened. 

“I’ve always known that. Charles did too. It was reason number four hundred and eighty six for our divorce” 

He chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. 

“I never imagined it would happen like this”  

You smiled and took one of his hands in yours. 

“Life never happens the way we expect it to. All we can do is make the best of it…” 

Carlos scrunched his nose. “That is very cliché.” 

You laughed “Yeah, I get philosophical after getting my brains fucked out” 

A light blush dusted over Carlos' cheeks when he realised you were still half naked, and probably leaking his cum all over the couch. 

“Do you want some help to clean up?” 

You nodded and he picked you up carefully, carrying you over to the small bathroom. 

Now was his chance, his opportunity, and he refused to screw it up like Charles had all those years ago. 

[green-butterfly-writes]

Yandere Batfam concept: neglected trans reader

Warnings for: child neglect, unintentional transphobia as a result of child neglect, (non bigoted) religious imagery, blasphemous imagery, idolizing Bruce Wayne

I'm Dyslexic, and don't have a beta, so mistakes are likely to happen.

Standard neglected reader, they are Bruce’s bio kid, don’t get involved in Batman stuff, and end up getting punished to the side.

They realize they are trans while still living with the Waynes, and aren’t sure if they should come out or not. Not that they think the batclan would hurt them, but given the total lack of support or attention they were raised with, they were worried.

After a year or two of suffering through dysphoria and anxiety, they decide to come out to Bruce.

Except Bruce is very difficult to get a hold of. Especially for them. So when they do finally tell him, he’s distracted and not paying attention. The conversation goes roughly like this:

You finally managed to find time he wasn’t Batmaning, spending time with your siblings, or in the office, and even though you’d prefer he look at you and not the paper work he was doing, you’ll take what you can get.

You were in his darkly furnished home office, in a deep blue plush chair sitting at an angle from Bruce, who was behind the large dark wood desk in the center of the room. The walls were lined with bookshelves taller than mount Olympus, each and every one of them filled with neatly organized text books, encyclopedias, and dictionaries.

Bruce sat in front of the only window in the room. It was tall, and a made of neatly organized, fractured glass. It lit Bruce from behind, like one of the stained glass murals from your grandmother‘s church, and made him look like an angel. A heavenly messenger you prayed to every night for protection, and every day for love. But the world is cruel, and so is its creator, so your prayers continued to go unanswered.

“Dad,” you started hesitantly, “I have something I wanted to talk to you about. I thought it best to tell you in person.” Typically, if you had something you wanted to share with Bruce, you would write it in a letter, leave it on his bedside table, and he’d get back to you in a week or two. But you wanted to tell him yourself. You need to see his face when he found out.

Bruce only hummed in response.

“I’m trans. I’m not going by (dead name) any more, I’m going by (chosen name) now. And I’ve changed my pronouns too. It would mean a lot to me if you used them.” You stared down at your lap, fidgeting with your intertwining fingers, waiting for a response.

Silence suffocated you as Bruce continued his even scribbling across his note pad, turning to the next page in the grant proposal he was reading.

“That’s nice (dead name). Why don’t you go see if Alfred needs help in the garden, I’m sure he’d love to hear your stories.”

You felt as if your very soul had shattered into a million pieces. Your heart burred in your chest, and your mouth went dry. It felt like someone had dunked your head a pile of fresh snow and held you there. You couldn’t feel your body, or hear your mind, and at the same time you felt it all too much, and heard it far to loud.

You had prayed to your heavenly messenger, your savior, your prophet. He who had granted you life and meaning. Who had saved you from deaths door, and carried you into his home. And you were just turned away at the altar.

That was the last time you called him dad.

You considered coming out to Alfred, the only member of the family that remembers your existence without you needing to remind him, but he’s old and you wouldn’t be able to stomach another rejection.

The next few years were hell.

Every event felt like a nightmare, trapped in a cage of fabric, every time you put on your school uniform you wanted to scream

Everyone called you the name you were desperate to forget, used the pronouns that made you skin sit wrong on your bones

You stopped looking in mirrors, hating what you saw.

Once you turned eighteen you practically ran out of the house.

You got excepted to a school in another state and took it, never looking back.

You wrote Alfred monthly letters about how you were doing for the first two years, then every other month, then every four. Slowly weening him off of updates about your life. You still send him a card during the holidays and one for his birthday so he knows you’re alive, but the address is for a P.O. box, so he doesn’t know where you live.

It’s now ten years after you left and you’re doing amazing. You’re flourishing in your career, have an amazing group of friends, and maybe most importantly, changed your first and last name. You got the surgeries you wanted, went on hormones, and can look yourself in the mirror now. You love your life

Sometimes when you’re watching tv or walking through the streets, you’ll see advertisements, magazines, or talk shows with imagery of your now forgotten false idol. Sometimes you wonder how he’s doing, how his kids have grown. You wonder if he misses you. Your therapist told you that’s normal for victims of child abuse. You pay the thoughts no mind.

You don’t watch the every move of your golden bat anymore, in fact you don’t watch any. And you don’t realize that he’s watching you, praying for forgiveness, not only for what he has done, but for what he’s about to do.

[crepezinhos]

Unbeatable Spirit

POV: Just some first impressions of Ifa and how he must be like in bed activities…

Ifa is a malleable man.

He doesn’t have any particular preferred kinks, nor does he have any hated kinks. There’s not a lot that turns him on, nor a lot that turns him off, so that’s why he lets you be in control of the creativity department of your relationship.

There’s just one thing that you can’t take away from him when you fuck with him: He will always degrade you. He won’t ruin or break you, no, he doesn’t feel like doing that (unless you want to), but he finds it too funny how you feel so comfortable and confident to inform him about your desires, growing darker and darker the more you two get intimate with each other, for him to stay quiet about it.

He degrades you lightly, using words and terms that aren’t derogatory, but imply the message of your inferiority compared to him. And that disgustingly soft and relaxed tone in his voice while he speaks… It annoys you how it never fails to make his degradation sound like praising, and that makes you so tighter around him. He does it on purpose. After all, the tighter he can get you, the more opportunities he’ll did you to degrade you, and the cycle keeps repeating itself.

“Gee… This pussy was made for me, want it? It can’t get enough of this…”

You want to try some new toy? Sure, he’ll use it until you’re dry, but he’ll make mean comments about how much your pussy likes to be tortured with it.

“Look at this mess… All that for a vibrator that isn’t even in max strength… Dirty little thing… You want me to fuck you this bad?”

You want to be tied up or blindfolded? Or maybe even both? Sure, he’ll make sure to be delicate with your body, but he’ll keep remarking you of your vulnerability and submission while he dicks you down.

“Look at you… So desperate to move and speak, yet, so aroused from being reduced to this. Don’t worry… I’ll tame this pretty pussy of yours…”

You want him to slap you at a specific spot of your body? Or maybe multiple of them? Sure, he’ll leave red marks on them, but he’ll keep telling you that you’re dirty masochist that deserves nothing but what you asked for.

“Dirty, dirty, dirty… Gushing all over my fingers because of pure pain… (SMACK) Don’t you have any shame at all from finding pleasure in this? Dirty little masochist… I’ll make sure to each this pussy where it belongs.” (SMACK)

And the list goes on… No need to worry about it becoming repetitive. He’ll always find a new way to degrade you as long as you keep bringing new ideas to the table.

Even when he’s the submissive one in the sex, you cannot get rid of the smirk in his face. You can restrain his movement, torture his dick, slap him in the face, degrade him however you want… He won’t stop smiling while pure love and admiration glosses his eyes. And if you don’t force him to stay quiet, he won’t stop degrading you either, even in the most pathetic and miserable positions.

“You find enjoyment in this, hum? Tying me up and— ah, dry-humping me like this until I’m almost cumming just to stop and edge me..? Hmmph! I thought that would be something you’d like me to do with you— Shit…”

You’ll always end up exhausted after sex, whether you were on top or bottom, while he’ll act as if nothing happened in the first place. Don’t get him wrong, he always enjoys it, but for your sadness, he simply remained undefeated by your sexual abilities.

You can try acting as distant and unsatisfied as possible at that unprovoked smirk of his, but he quickly makes cool off once he starts taking care of you. Yes, Ifa always takes care of you after sex, no matter how much you tried to ruin him. As expected, he will also do whatever you want him to for aftercare, whether it’s a snack, a warm bath, or cleaning the mess you two did, but you won’t be able to stop him from showering you with kisses and smooches after he’s done with the technical stuff, and that’s when you can’t resist him any longer.

And, even if he got you to surrender to him again and even if he finds your change in behavior so funny, he can’t find the energy to degrade you any more.

And don’t lie to yourself. You’re not really bothered by his unbeatable smirk, are you?

After all, you’re his little masochist prey, and he’s your dear tamer.

[verstappenverse]

Call Me When You Breakup (Role Reversal)

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: You’re with the wrong person, and Max knows it. So do you. He won’t ask you to leave but he’ll be here, hoping, aching, waiting. Just… call him when you do.

Authors Note: Okay so when I was writing Call Me When You Break Up, I genuinely couldn’t pick whether Max or the reader should be the one in a relationship bc I loved both versions too much, so… I wrote both. Figured I’d share this one too in case you needed a little comfort after the first one! (Spoiler: this one ends has a happier ending, promise 💕)

1.6k words / Inspo / Masterlist

Max knows he's in trouble the moment he sees you with him.

It shouldn’t hurt like this. Shouldn’t feel like something inside him is being wrenched apart, piece by piece. But it does. Because that’s not where you’re supposed to be.

You should be with him.

Instead, you’re laughing at something your boyfriend just said, your hand resting lightly on his arm, and Max feels like he’s suffocating in plain sight.

Because he knows that laugh. He knows your real laugh, the one that starts low in your chest and crinkles the corners of your eyes. This one is polite, forced, paper-thin.

You're fading right in front of him, and he doesn’t know how no one else sees it.

"You’re staring."

Lando’s voice pulls him back to reality, but Max doesn’t bother denying it. What’s the point? Everyone knows. They’ve always known.

Lando follows his gaze across the restaurant, shaking his head. "You really gonna keep doing this to yourself?"

Max exhales sharply, gripping his glass tighter. "What choice do I have?"

Lando scoffs. "I don’t know, maybe tell her how you feel instead of sitting here like some lovesick idiot?"

Max wants to. God, he wants to. He’s rehearsed it a thousand times, in the car, in the shower, in those sleepless hours past midnight when he’s certain no one will hear his heart breaking. But it’s never that simple.

Because you’re in a relationship. One that looks fine from the outside. One that checks boxes. One that convinces everyone… except Max, that you're happy.

But Max knows better.

Because he’s seen the way your boyfriend talks over you when you’re excitedly telling a story. How he interrupts, how he subtly corrects you. How he walks ahead without waiting, and rarely looks back to see if you’re still with him. How he only reaches for your hand when people are watching, when it can be seen, posted, admired.

But still, you stay. And Max doesn’t understand why. Because you were meant for him.

You know it too. He sees it in the way your eyes linger on him a second too long. The way your laughter always falters when he looks at you like this, like he’d burn the world down if you asked him to.

But you never ask.

And Max? He’s stuck waiting.

We’re so meant for each other. When will you wake up.

The words sit heavy in his chest, but he swallows them down. Because as much as he wants to say them, to beg you to choose him, it has to be you.

Call me when you break up.

He thinks it almost every time he sees you. It sits there behind his teeth, aching to be said. A quiet, desperate plea. Because he can’t say it first.

You have to want it. Want him.

Until then, he’ll keep watching from across the room. Holding his breath. And praying that one day, you’ll finally stop pretending.

And come home to him.

It gets worse before it gets better.

Max tries to move on. Tries to shove the feelings down, bury them beneath podium celebrations and mindless distractions. He flirts with women he doesn’t care about, lets them kiss him in the shadows of clubs, lets them wrap themselves around him like temporary bandages, but their lips never feel right.

Because they’re not yours.

You’re the only person who’s ever made him feel like he doesn’t have to win to be worth something.

He tells himself he’s fine. That if he says it enough, he’ll start believing it.

But then he sees you again.

You’re sitting alone in the paddock, scrolling through your phone, and you look exhausted. Not just physically, but in the way that sits deep in your bones. Like you haven’t been happy in a long time.

Max doesn’t think. He just moves.

"Hey."

You glance up, startled, before a slow smile spreads across your face. "Hey, Max."

It’s stupid, how much just hearing his name in your voice makes his chest ache. How his whole world rearranges itself around that one sound.

He sits beside you, close enough that your knees brush. "You okay?"

You hesitate just for a second before nodding. "Yeah. Just tired."

You’re lying. He knows it. You know he knows it, but you don’t elaborate, and Max doesn’t push.

Because this isn’t his place.

Not yet.

So he swallows the things he wants to say. Swallows the part of him that wants to take your face in his hands and ask what happened to the girl who used to give him hell just for fun. The one who could make him laugh with a single raised eyebrow, who used to challenge him just to see if he’d rise to it.

He forces himself to play the part. The best friend. The one who listens but never crosses the line. The one who waits in the background, hoping that one day you’ll finally wake up.

But waiting is hell.

Especially when he sees it clearer than ever that you’re not yourself anymore. Not the girl who used to light up every room, not the girl who used to challenge him on everything just to make him laugh. You’ve gotten quieter. Like the wrong love dimmed your light.

And Max? He wants to be the one who brings it back.

He wants to remind you what it feels like to be loved loudly. To be listened to. To be challenged and adored in equal measure. He wants to be the arms you fall into, not because you’re tired, but because it finally feels safe. He wants to fight with you and for you, and he wants to laugh until you can’t breathe, until your face crumples in that way that only happens when you’re so happy you forget to hold it all in.

The call comes finally at 2 a.m.

Max is half-asleep when his phone buzzes, the screen lighting up with your name. His heart lurches before he even picks up.

"Hello?"

Silence.

Then—

"Can I come over?"

Your voice is raw, like you’ve been crying, and suddenly Max is wide awake.

"Yeah," he says immediately, already sitting up. "Of course."

You don’t offer an explanation. You don’t need to.

Because he already knows.

You show up at his door twenty minutes later, eyes red-rimmed, wearing the same clothes from earlier.

Max doesn’t ask what happened. He just steps aside, letting you in.

You sink onto his couch without a word, pulling your knees to your chest. Max sits beside you, close but not touching. Waiting.

It takes a minute before you finally speak.

"It’s over."

The words send a jolt through his chest, but he keeps his expression careful. "Are you okay?"

"I don’t know." You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “I feel like an idiot... I should’ve left a long time ago, but I was scared. Of being alone. Of starting over."

Max swallows hard. "You’re not alone."

Your eyes flick to his, something unreadable swirling in their depths. "I know."

A beat of silence. Then—

“Were you… waiting for this?”

The question slips out of you like a confession, small and uncertain, but it lands like a thunderclap between you.

Max doesn’t blink. Doesn’t deflect with a joke or pretend he didn’t hear. His eyes stay locked on yours, steady and unflinching, like he’s bracing for impact.

“Yeah,” he says, simply. “I was.”

“Max—” you breathe, voice thick and trembling.

But he cuts you off gently, a hand lifting like he’s physically trying to slow the moment down.

“Don’t,” he says softly, eyes searching yours. “Don’t say anything if you don’t mean it, not because you feel guilty, or because you’re hurting, or because I’ve been stupid enough to love you this long.”

“I think part of me always knew,” you continue, blinking hard. “That I was supposed to end up here. That it was always going to be you. But I kept talking myself out of it. Because you were safe. And I didn’t think I deserved safe.”

“You deserve everything,” Max says hoarsely.

You nod, a few tears finally escaping down your cheeks

Max is still watching you like he doesn’t dare breathe, like if he moves too fast, you’ll disappear again.

You reach for his hand, threading your fingers through his. “I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want to waste another second pretending I don’t feel what I feel.”

His grip tightens instinctively. “What do you feel?”

You swallow hard, but your voice is clear now. Certain. “I’m in love with you.”

Max exhales like he’s been underwater this whole time and finally broke the surface. His hand rises to cup your jaw, thumb catching a tear before it falls.

“Say it again,” he whispers, eyes shining.

You smile through the tears. “I’m in love with you.”

“I love you too,” he says. “I’ve been yours since the beginning”

And then you’re kissing him.

It’s not perfect. It’s messy, a little desperate. There’s hesitation in the way your lips press to his, like you’re testing the waters of a dream you never let yourself have. But Max doesn’t hesitate.

His hands find your waist, anchoring you to him, pulling you into his lap like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if there’s any distance between you. His fingers slide into your hair, and he kisses you like it’s the only language he’s ever been fluent in.

Like he’s been waiting forever.

You gasp softly into his mouth, and he slows down, gentling it, letting you set the pace. Letting you feel safe. Loved. Wanted.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads rest together, breath mingling in the small space between you. Your eyes stay closed, your voice barely more than a breath.

“I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Max exhales, brushing your hair back behind your ear with a tenderness that makes your throat tighten.

“You’re here now,” he says, thumb ghosting across your cheek. “That’s all that matters.”

[takimakiiiii]

what if? (i told you i loved you)

pairing - ollie bearman x fem!reader

themes - PURE FLUFFFFFFF

summary - ollie tells you he loves you but not before getting awful advice from kimi

word count: around 300?

a/n: just something small i wrote last night after listening to how would you feel by ed sheeran - it’s lowkey bad because my writing has been pretty sucky lately and im trying to write so many things at once (bad idea yall do NOT do what i am doing ✋😭) anyways enjoy!

<———————————————————————>

“What could possibly go wrong?” was quite possibly the worst this to say to Ollie in this moment as he frantically paced his living room. His hands were buried in his hair and his face scrunched up in a way which called for desperate measures. Kimi eyed him as he walked back and forth across the room like a video on loop. 

“What if you just wait?” offered Kimi, Ollie paused his pacing and stared at him as he faltered under his glare, laughing nervously. Kimi cleared his throat before he spoke, “What I meant to say was, maybe wait a while, you don’t want to scare the poor girl away.” he put delicately. 

“But. . . I don’t want to wait. I mean, it doesn’t have to be perfect right? It’s just saying. . . I love you.” 

The words heavy yet light sat on his tongue. Ollie looked to Kimi for help who’s hands shot up defensively. He pointed at him and clicked his fingers, a widespread grin on his face. 

“Don’t look at me, Eli was the one who said it first.” he pointed out, watching as his friend finally stopped pacing. Ollie sat across from him, burying his head in his hands. Personally, Kimi thought he was overreacting big time. Not that he could speak from much experience though.

“How do I say it, do I say it casually like an in-the-moment thing? Or maybe-“

“Do you want to practice?” Kimi asked teasingly as he wiggled his eyebrows up and down. Ollie glared and threw a pillow at his face in reply, Kimi caught it with a huff.

“Look, just say it because you mean it. It doesn’t have to be fancy, if you tell someone you love them it’s because you want them to know.” A moment of silence passed between them and Ollie raised his eyebrows. Far too heartfelt and touchey for them. Kimi cringed at his own words and offered an unhelpful sympathetic glance to Ollie who glared at him in reply. 

“You should’ve called Arthur instead, he’s 10 times better at this.” Kimi grumbled, sick of playing wingman for his friend. 

“For all we know he’s probably partying on a yacht somewhere in the middle of the ocean.” Ollie grumbled in annoyance.

“The lucky bastard.” Kimi scowled, throwing the pillow back. Ollie caught it and let out a groan, leaning as back as he could into the armchair. He buried his face in the pillow. 

“Maybe I’ll just wing it.” he spoke, words muffled. 

“Famous last words.” Kimi acknowledged with a chuckle sending Ollie spiralling.

*

You laid back pressed Ollie’s chest, one hand shielding your eyes from the rays of the sunset that glared before you. Letting out a peaceful sigh, you glanced up at him. He’d been sitting nervously since you’d arrived at the park. You’d noticed the way he ran his hand through his hair every few seconds, he way he kept glancing over at you, even the sweat that had began to form on his forehead. You smiled fondly, watching as his jaw tensed under your stare. 

“Everything okay, Bearman?” you asked curiously, breaking the silence. The chatter in the park began to die out as the sun set behind the skyline. Ollie eyes flickered over to you, startled by your voice. He swallowed, “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” he cleared his throat, looking down at you. His eyes skipped over you before he looking back up at the sunset.

“Maybe because you skipped the sim today to come pick me up from work?” you suggested, noticing the way his eyes reflected the sunset as warm pools of honey. Subconsciously your mouth ticked up in a smile, heart skipping a beat in your chest. 

“Hey, I do that all the time.” Ollie protested, a light humour to his voice. You rolled your eyes playfully, “Sure you do, handsome.” Silence passed between the two of you as you watched the sunset, its colours dancing across the sky above you. You let out a deep sigh, allowing your eyes to close.

“Y/N?” 

Your eyes opened slowly and you glanced back at Ollie. You sat up and turned to face him, oblivious to the way he looked at you so fondly. 

Your heart fluttered under his gaze.

“Yeah?” you beckoned, awaiting his question. You noticed the way his fists clenched and jaw tensed as he sat up, looking for his words. 

“I know we haven’t been dating for long but. . . I really uhhh,” Ollie tripped over his words before groaning. You watched him take a deep breath in.

“I love you.” 

A warm feeling exploded through your chest and your heart felt like it was beating a thousand times faster than before. It felt like your brain had short circuited. Much to Ollie’s surprise, you burst out in laughter. He watched horrified as you rolled onto your back, clutching your stomach with laughter. 

Was this a normal reaction to telling someone you love them? Ollie wondered before he realised this was exactly why he did. He loved everything about you. He loved the way you smiled all the time and it made him feel like he was flying up in the clouds. He loved the way you went out of your way to make everyone feel special, especially him. He loved you, and it couldn’t have been truer in that moment. 

Ollie lay beside you on the grass and looked over at you, a gigantic smile on your face. You let out a chuckle, “So that’s why you’ve been sweating so much? I thought it was because of the walk here, no offence.” 

“Woah, offence taken.” He scrunched up his face, sending you both into fits of giggles. After the laughter died out you turned on your side to face him. You half expected him to be anxious since you were yet to say it back, but you were taken by surprise when you saw him relaxed and smiling back at you. 

Your eyes glazed over him, his rosy cheeks, honey eyes and that smile that made your head grow dizzy. 

That one Taylor Swift lyric blasted at the back of your mind - “In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman.” 

“Creepy much?” you teased, poking him in the shoulder, rolling your eyes playfully. Your stomach felt like you were on a roller coaster, heart beating so loud it felt like it was going to shoot out of your chest. 

“I’m hurt.” he placed his hand on his heart dramatically. 

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” you spoke poshly, attempting your best at mimicking Ollie’s English accent. He poked you back in the ribs playfully, sending you into laughter until your stomach ached. 

Out of breath, you turned to him, eyes catching his and everything felt right. 

“I love you too.” you whispered, leaning in and pecking him on the cheek before jumping to your feet. Ollie sat up and watched as you held your hand out to him, eyes glinting mischievously. He slowly took your hand and stood up cautiously, eyeing you suspiciously. 

“What?” you asked, doing an awful job at holding back a laugh at his reaction. He studied your face for a moment, eyes narrowed. 

“What?” Ollie countered, the corners of his mouth pulled in a grin. 

“Last one to the car has to clean the dishes tonight!” you yelled as you shot off in the direction of the car. Ollie ran after you, the park filled with both your laughter as the sun disappeared behind the buildings. 

a/n: it’s super short but i hope you enjoyed!

[doctorruby]

Peace

Buck and Tommy get engaged. Maddie reflects.

°°°

Buck and Tommy get engaged on a Thursday. They take the long weekend off. Maddie's the first to know.

On Friday morning, she wakes up to a text of a single image from her brother. At first, she doesn’t know what she’s looking at. Blinking sleep out of her eyes and readjusting to the light of the day, it dawns on her that the picture of two rings set gently on the counter, resting on top of one another, is an indication that Tommy finally popped the question.

He told her two weeks beforehand. He came to her with shaky hands and timid smile and asked for her blessing with a stutter.

She hadn’t been sure about Tommy at first, a thought she kept to herself for years if she’s honest with herself. She brought it up one day to her own husband.

“I just- I don’t know if he’s the one for him, you know?”

Chimney bristled at the comment, “What do you mean? He’s Tommy! I think they’re awesome together.”

Maddie tried to explain herself but it was in vain. Chimney doted on Tommy’s proclaimed “awesomeness” and she let the conversation die while she settled into silent judgement.

It’s not that she didn’t like Tommy, or even think that he was bad for Buck, but something about him felt- wrong. Buck- no, Evan was sensitive. Sweet. Clingy. He needed adoration and praise and love and stability. He needed someone who could stomach being looked at like they were the center of the universe. Someone who had the appetite for love that he had to give.

When she looked at Tommy- she didn’t see that. She couldn’t explain it. And when her baby brother called her with a shaky voice and explained that Tommy had dumped him, she knew why.

He was a runner. And it broke her heart. She imagined that same voice, only smaller and higher pitched, the day she told Buck that she was leaving with Doug.

You’re leaving me.

He left me.

Her brother is always being ditched, abandoned, tossed aside. Always being shattered by the people who are supposed to love him, always being rejected by the people he’s desperate to leash himself to.

In a strange way, after this realization, she felt sorrow for Tommy that she didn’t before. Sorrow she felt for a past version of herself who waved goodbye to her kid brother from the passenger seat as a bad man drove her away. She felt anger for him, too. The same anger she felt when looking at Buck lay motionless in a hospital bed.

You should have stayed. You should have been there. You should have loved him better.

The same anger she felt when she watched Jee slip into the bathtub, down under the layer of water, tiny fists clenched and thrashing. The same anger she felt when she watched Los Angeles fade into the horizon, when she gripped the steering wheel in her fist and told herself that they were better off without her. Her husband, her daughter, her brother. Maybe the world.

Then, Tommy came back into Buck’s life. After a messy hookup, a long conversation, and a bakery’s worth of carbs, they were back together. Buck had talked her through everything. How Tommy apologized, how they cried and fought and forgave each other. She nodded along to everything, let him vent, gave support, and bit her tongue.

She still wasn’t sure about him, even then.

It wasn’t until he came to her, nerves laid bare for her to see, that it dawned on her.

“I-I know that you might have reservations about our relationship and about me,” he admitted sheepishly. It took her by surprise and when Tommy took note of her quick correction, he gave her a knowing look and assured her, “You don’t have to apologize or deny it. I get it. If someone I loved was abandoned the way I left Evan, I would hold a grudge until the day I die. If someone hurt Evan the way that I did, I would never forgive them. Which is why I hope that you believe me when I say that I will never stop trying to make that up to him, to remind him everyday how much I love him. We both know much he needs that. I want to spend the rest of my life loving him. And it would mean a lot to me, and I know it would mean a lot to Evan even if he won’t admit it, if you would give me your blessing,” he bit the inside of his cheek and she watched as he squirmed under her gaze.

She let the silence eat away at him for a few seconds before sucking in a breath.

“I’ve seen my brother be a lot of things. I’m sure you’ve seen the revolving door of careers he tried on in his twenties. The one thing I’ve never seen him be is at peace. And then he met you-” Tommy’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, ���and I still didn’t see him at peace.”

She watched his face fall and opened his mouth to mutter an apology but she stopped him, “The first six months were a honeymoon period. And then when you broke up with him that first time, that was the worst I’ve ever seen him. He was a mess and everyday I woke up and wondered if he was ever going to be okay again. You were just another person who leaves him and throws him away when they get tired of him. And then you came back into his life, and he was even better than before. The best I’ve ever seen him, the happiest. And for a really long time, I could not understand why- why he would forgive you. And then I realized, it’s because you came back.”

Tommy dug his nails into his palms and listened.

“God knows that I have messed up with Evan more times than I can count, that I’ve made mistakes, that I’ve run away when I should have stayed. But I came back. And he forgave me because that’s what he does. I’m not perfect and I don’t expect you to be either, but as long as you keep coming back to him. That’s what matters to me. He deserves someone who knows that he’s worth coming back to.”

She wiped her face of the few droplets of tears and leaned forward to hug him. He clearly wasn’t expecting it, as he went stiff the minute she wrapped her arms around his large shoulders. He delicately placed his hands on her upper back, like he was afraid he’d hurt her.

They talked for a few more minutes before he made his exit. He hadn’t told her the when or how and she suspected that he hadn’t known himself.

When she received that message, and then a few seconds later a paragraph worth of exclamation marks, she felt at peace for her brother. She knew he was in good hands.

[zepskies]

Aw yay!! I'm really happy to hear that. 🥰😘

I just felt like there was a little more to explore in the time gaps of Part 2, namely with some important conversations that would've had to happen after reader and Dean finally get together at the end and before the wedding. 😅

And Benny honestly started to frustrate me the most the longer I thought about him (not me trying to find the only thing wrong with that man lol). It doesn’t take away from him being a class act at the end there, but he honestly was a bit of a shitty friend to Dean. If we relate it back to Friends and Joey’s feelings for Rachel, he always, always, always put his his friendship with Ross first and was willing to suffer. I truly think he would’ve sold his soul to get them back together, no matter how much it would have hurt him 🥲💔 And I don’t see that priority with Benny. Even during the visit at the hospital, instead of telling reader she won’t be alone because Dean will get his act together, he implied that he will be there. But he should’ve walked right out of there, pulled Dean aside and told him his baby momma is afraid of being alone, that Dean might have a real shot there, and if he truly wants this, he should stop with all that Lisa bullshit and fight for his family 🤷‍♀️

Omg you're so right! With Joey it was always clear that he was willing to self-sacrifice rather than hurt Ross. I think of all the "friends," Joey had the biggest heart. 💗

Whereas here, Benny was pretty selfish to go after the reader, thinking Dean was all wrapped up with Lisa and didn't want her like he did. 🤔 I so agree with you that Benny really should've "real talked" with Dean - asking him what he's doing with Lisa when clearly the reader needs his support. In that sense, Benny was an opportunist -- he stepped in where Dean should've been, intentionally wanting to be that guy.

Secondly, I totally can see that Dean didn’t make a move all this time because he was so scared of getting rejected again. And Lisa was available and offering, so he pretty much settled, thinking he’d never have a shot with reader. Makes complete sense to me and is definitely a trademark Dean move 🤓

BIG YEP. That was the crux of it with Dean - he was young and scared of a second rejection, and afraid to "mess up her life" even more, even though she 100% doesn't see it that way. It's the typical Dean self-worth issues wrapped in AU clothes. 😅🙃💙 (This is 💯 one of those issues that's going to be explored in the epilogue)

And PS: Your friend probably did cut out coffee. A lot of women do. Either because they want to or because it’s still a common misconception (I thought that too, but all the books said a cup is allowed). Knowing you’re a coffee lover, I just wanted you to know you’re allowed to have that life-saving cup in the morning 😘💜

Ahhh thank you!! In the future if you don't mind, I might hit you up with a pregnancy question if I run into one of these ideas in a fic. 😆😆

Girl yes, my Cuban blood would probably stop flowing. 🤪☕ I think I would die if I didn't have my 1 cup per day to wake me up in the morning. Like I tell my family, "I'm not even breathing yet. Don't talk to me."

Aw I'm so glad you love your tag! 😘 Wanted to give you some lovely alliteration back from one writer nerd to another.~

IF I STAY - Part 2

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: Deep breaths Are you ready for a rollercoaster of emotions? 😘❤️

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

Word Count: 13.1K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, pregnancy feels, hurt/comfort, fluff, time jumps and flashbacks, sexual tension, mutual pining, spice~, and an ending…

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Part 2: It’s Now or Never

At the doctor’s office, Dean goes in with you for the first trimester ultrasound. There you learn that you’re going to have a boy. Tears well up in your eyes and slip down your cheeks.

Dean wears a look of amazement as he sits on the edge of your bed. He takes up your hand and squeezes gently. He tries to be a strong support, even though he also tries to hide the fear that begins to churn in his gut.

For one of the first times in his life since Sam was born, he feels the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. In a good way. In a fucking scary way.

He looks at you and sees the wonder written across your face while you watch the tiny shape of your baby on the screen. His heartbeat thwaps fast and loud in the speakers.

Dean realizes something else then; the decision you're making is changing the course of your whole damn life…and it’s his fault.

With his weekly hookup rate, in the very back shelves of his mind he knew something like this could happen, even though he thought he'd been careful. (Apparently, condoms are fragile little shits.) But here, in this white wall-to-wall room that smells like hospital antiseptic, that thwap thwap thwap of a heartbeat reverberating in his ears, the reality of this is crashing hard on his shoulders and rattling down to the base of his spine.

Despite his earlier happiness, those thoughts stay with him when you two eventually get back into his car. You have the pictures of the sonogram in your hands. You smile down at them before you put them back in your purse for safekeeping.

However, you notice Dean’s sudden melancholy as he stares out at the road. He’s started the car, but he hasn’t moved to pull out of the parking lot yet.

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

Dean shakes his head. “Look…I’m sorry for tossing a giant friggin’ monkey wrench into your life. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

If possible, your heart softens even more. You slide your hand down to grasp his.

“Dean, this baby wasn’t planned, but he’s not a mistake,” you say. “I don’t regret anything.”

Dean stares back at you, incredulously. He can’t believe you could really say that to him. He doesn’t know what to say. He only knows what’s in his mind, and what he feels compelled to do in that moment.

He leans over and kisses you. It’s a firm meeting of his lips to yours and achingly familiar. But ultimately, it’s chaste. He pulls away and settles back in his seat.

When you blink your eyes back open, your expression is slack in shock.

“I’m sorry,” he says, seeming sheepish, and guilty. “I meant to say thank you. Just didn’t know any other way to say it.”

After a moment, you smile at him. It’s warm and almost shy.

Dean clears his throat, trying to ignore the way his face is heating up. He doesn’t say anything more. He just takes the wheel and shifts gears, pulling the car out of the parking lot. 

You don’t know what possesses you to bake cookies. Dozens and dozens of them, all the chocolate chip cookie recipes you can find. You’re in search of the perfect one. This will be the recipe your son will grow up on, and every time he eats them, he’ll remember how much you loved him.

And then, he’ll be ruined for any other chocolate chip cookies that try to grab his taste buds. He’ll say, Blech. Chips Ahoy? These aren’t as good as Mom makes!

…Or something like that.

Yes, these cookies have to be perfect. You’ll even write the ingredients down on a notecard and hide it away, and it’ll become your family secret recipe.

Once you feel like your cookie game is strong enough, you decide to test these babies out. You bring two dozen painstakingly baked confections to Firehouse 83, where Dean works. The man is a bottomless pit, to be sure, but you also want other people’s unbiased opinions. For science.

You park your car on the side of the road, making sure you’re not blocking the driveway where two huge fire trucks are parked. You head inside the firehouse with your big container under your arm and your purse on the other. Now at seven months into your pregnancy, you’ve gotten to the embarrassing “waddle” stage.

You’re still determined to be active though! You plan to keep working until you have the baby. Your parents live a few hours away, but you’re grateful that they want to help out as much as possible.

Even though they weren’t happy to hear about how you got pregnant, by now they've met Dean and begrudgingly admitted to liking him. He's really stepped up to the responsibility of a future father, insisting on baby-proofing your apartment, helping you shop for the essentials, and going with you to as many doctor’s appointments as he can. He’s even agreed to giving you child support payments, even though you hadn’t wanted to ask for it.

You look for him now as you enter the firehouse, trying to push the heavy glass door open with one hand.

“Here, I got you,” says a familiar baritone voice.

You’re pleasantly surprised at the man who helps you inside.

“Benny! It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, been…a while,” he chuckles, glancing down at the swell of your belly, but he squeezes your shoulder and leans in to hug you gently.

“Dean filled you in?” you ask. You hope so. Having to explain the story to one of his own friends would be embarrassing, especially since this is the man you walked in Sam’s wedding with. It reminds you of that day, and the way you told Dean that news in a glorified closet, with shaking hands and the wrong kind of butterflies.

Thankfully, Benny nods. “That he did…but come on, I’ll show you around. And I see you’ve brought somethin’ special for us?”

He gestures at the container you're holding and offers to take it off your hands. You give it to him, grateful for the help.

“Yeah, and I want you guys to give me your honest opinion.”

Benny tosses you a wink and a smile. “That I can do.”

Your cheeks begin to warm in a blush, but the way he helps you to a comfy couch in the common room earns your smile. There are still good men left in this world, and you’re glad to know that Dean works so well with one.

“You want some coffee, or water? Think we might have some lemonade,” Benny says.

“Water would be great, thank you,” you reply, as you rub your belly. The little man has decided to kick at your liver today. “I stopped drinking coffee for the baby. ”

It's your biggest challenge, to be honest. Try wrangling a group of fifteen to twenty six-year-olds while running on green tea, the fumes of sleep deprivation, reduced bladder control, and as much vim as you can muster.

“Ah, right,” Benny nods. “My sister has two kids. She cut out coffee, pain meds, some dairy stuff. But she claimed cheesecake was all right, ‘cause it’s got cake in the name.”

You giggle. “I see no flaw in her logic.”

Down the hall of the firehouse, Dean is just coming back in from going through a set of drills. He’s still the Candidate—the freshest blood in the house—so they’ve been putting him through his paces for the past several months. He’s eager to learn and to prove himself.

His ears perk up in confusion though. Did he just hear your voice?

Why does it smell like a bakery in here?

When he rounds the corner, he sees you in the common room, smiling and giggling like a teenager at something Benny said to you while he eats a soft baked cookie right out of a Tupperware container. You must’ve brought it for the firehouse.

This cozy little scene kind of annoys Dean somehow, though he doesn’t know why. He does know that it shouldn’t.

“Hey, look who’s here,” Dean says, forcing himself to smile. It becomes easier when you look his way, your eyes brightening at his arrival.

“There you are! Come ‘ere and try these,” you say, pointing at the box Benny holds. “Tell me if our son’s going to have the best PTA mom ever.”

Dean can’t help but grin after trying a big bite of one of your cookies.

“Oh, mah Gah,” he says, holding a hand under his mouth so nothing comes crumbling out.

“Good?” you ask.

“Good friggin’ cookie,” he confirms, after he swallows. “You’re gonna have the other parents frothing at the mouth. Who’s gonna be able to compete with this?”

Benny nods in agreement. When Dean squeezes your shoulder, your sweet, happy smile makes him smile too.

She’s going to be a good mom, he thinks. He can only hope against hope that he can be the man his son needs.

Two months later, the time has finally come. Your water breaks when you’re in the middle of teaching your second graders how to spell exaggerate—and no, Joey, it’s not e-g-g-zagerate.

However, the embarrassment of him pointing out the fluid beginning to stain your slacks is swiftly cut off by your shock. Your first call is to the principal, to have her send someone to cover your class. Your next call is to Dean, telling him to meet you at the hospital.

“Why the hell did he have to bring her,” you mutter to yourself, wiping sweat from your brow. Here you are, gritting your teeth through contraction after contraction in this damn hospital bed, and Dean is outside the room talking to Lisa.

You know you have no real reason to be upset. She’s been trying her best to be your friend in recent months. Hell, she helped Eileen and your mom plan your baby shower. She even brought you flowers when she got to the hospital, but you notice how less than five minutes after she got here, she and Dean became embroiled in yet another argument. It seems to you that all they do is argue, break up for a week or two, and then get back together again.

The sex must be explosive, like the fireworks at goddamn Disney World.

But Dean eventually does come back into the room alone. His support grounds you over the next few hours. He lets you basically break his hand, all while he gives you encouragement (and stands by your shoulder, so he doesn’t see anything you’d rather him not see).

And then, your son is born. Every muscle, every cell in your body is exhausted, but the pain meds have kicked in, and you’re in that blissed out state between abject reality and being entirely entranced by the bundle in your arms. His perfect face is just there, sleeping for the moment after the nurses taught you how to breastfeed.

Dean returns to sit in the chair beside you. He gives you some water and a piece of a protein bar. You’re not that hungry, but he pointed out that you haven’t eaten since before your water broke.

“Sam and Eileen are on their way up,” he says.

You nod in reply. You’re too into your son right now to think of anything else.

Dean shakes his head in wonder as he reaches out with a tentative hand, brushing his fingers over the baby’s downy head. He was born with a little tuft of brown hair.

“Okay, down to business,” Dean says, shooting you a playful look. “I vote for Zeppelin.”

You groan. “Dean, no. Veto. I’m not naming my son after a rock band.”

“Aw, come on. It’s a badass name!”

“What about Aiden?” you suggest.

“Veto,” he snorts. You two agreed to getting five “vetos” each, but this discussion has been more like a battle of wills over the last several months.

“Okay, what about Daniel? That’s strong, classic,” you pose.

Dean considers it with a tilt of his head. “All right, that one’s a maybe.”

Again, he strokes the baby’s soft cheek. You look over at Dean with a small smile.

“You’re going to be a good dad, you know,” you tell him. It earns his gaze. Although he’s trying to stay strong, you read the hidden insecurity there, the worry and fear. You rest a hand on his arm. “You are, Dean. You’re a good man, and you’ve really stepped up these past few months. This obviously isn’t how either of us thought our lives would go, but if this had to happen with someone, I’m glad it’s you.”

Dean’s expression softens. He hesitates, but he lays a hand over yours and squeezes gently.

“Thanks,” he says.

Your eyes meet, and it’s a moment charged with something you can’t even name. It’s not the first time you’ve felt this feeling with him. It both fills your heart with warmth, and makes you ache.

Then the door opens. It’s Lisa, Sam, and Eileen. Dean’s hand slips away from yours as they all pour in to congratulate you and Dean, and of course, meet the baby. There’s a lot of soft cooing and playful shushing.

In that small chaos, your parents call to tell you that they’re finally almost here. It really sucked not having your mom with you, but your parents live far enough away that they were going to take a train and stay with you for at least a week. Their train unfortunately got delayed due to mechanical failure.

It's okay though. Getting through the past several hours has made you realize that you’re stronger and more capable than you think, and even though part of you is still scared to death, you don’t need a husband to be a good mom. You’re going to give this your all, no matter who’s beside you…

And that's no more apparent than when Dean soon has to step out again, leading Lisa out of the room. He saw how her “helpful” suggestion to have a get-together at their apartment to celebrate the baby’s birth was setting you on edge. Really, you just want to sleep for the next 24-hours and not have any more pictures of you taken.

It gets loud enough outside your hospital room that Sam and Eileen feel they have to intervene. Lisa is Eileen’s best friend, and she’s the best equipped to try and deescalate the argument from that end, while Sam deals with Dean. It’s messy, it’s irritating, and it means that even today, you can’t just have a little bit of peace.

You sigh and cradle your still nameless baby close to your chest. He’s all that matters. Already, your heart is so damn full just taking him in.

“What’s your name, my little love?” you whisper. “What am I going to write on your certificate, besides Winchester?”

“How about Benjamin,” comes a Louisiana drawl.

You perk up and smile in surprise. “Benny, hey.”

He greets you with a slightly hesitant kiss on the cheek. He’s brought the baby an adorable teddy bear, and you a beautiful bouquet of white and blue roses, along with a box of chocolates.

“It’s the assorted kind, but they’ve got plenty of the caramel ones you like,” he says, then gazes down at the baby. “Aw, he’s a little charmer. Already got more of you than Dean, that’s for sure.”

You laugh lightly at his teasing. “I don’t know about that.” You hope your son inherits Dean’s strong jaw, and his green eyes.

Benny scratches the back of his head. “Also…sorry if I’m crossing some kind of boundary here. Looks like it’s a bit of a circus outside.”

You shake your head and smile through burgeoning tears. You set the chocolates on the end table where he’s placed the flowers and the teddy bear.

“No, it’s very sweet. Thank you,” you say. You glance out the window of your room to the hallway, where the arguing between Dean, Lisa, Sam, and Eileen seems to finally be calming down. You’re so damn tired, you don’t give a crap about whatever they’re hashing out now.

You look down at your son, and despite your strong thoughts earlier, insecurity begins to creep back into your mind like inky claws.  

“How are you holding up?” Benny asks. His face is kind and concerned when he notes the change in you.

You meet him with a wobbly smile. “Honestly? I’m afraid. I know I have a lot of people who want to support me, and I’m grateful, but…I just have this terrible feeling that we’re going to end up alone, him and me.”

You look down at your son, and you have to wipe away a tear from your eye before it falls on his face.

A large, warm hand rests over yours. Your gaze raises slowly, and Benny smiles at you. He’s serious though.

“Don’t you worry about that,” he says. “You’re not gonna be alone.”

FIVE YEARS LATER... 

For all that changes, there are some things that stay the same.

Dean and Lisa are still the world’s most “off again, on again” couple you’ve ever met. Sam and Eileen are still going strong as the hardworking, driven career couple. Your son is growing more and more every day and just started kindergarten this year.

(You ultimately caved on Dean’s idea to name him Robert, as in Robert Plant, lead singer of Led Zeppelin.)

Oh, yeah, and the “you and Benny” thing? That’s been going well for two years now.

What can you say? The man is persistent, but respectfully so. He’s considerate, reliable, and always calls you when work at the firehouse has him running late.

You haven’t yet invited him to move in with you. That part you’re still hesitant on, mostly because of your son, but Benny helps you drop off Robbie at school and makes breakfast for you all whenever he stays over your apartment. Benny takes an interest in your son’s life and keeps up with all his energy, taking him to the park to run himself ragged before dinner, and helping you tuck him in at night.

Benny is a bit closed off though, the strong stoic type. He’s hard for you to get a read on, and sometimes you wonder if he’s just indulging you when you ramble on about your day or make silly jokes. Even now, sometimes you withhold the first thought that comes to your mind, hoping he doesn’t think you immature or…too much.

But Benny shows his caring in all those little things he does for you. They add up into the big things, and he makes you feel supported. He makes you feel safe.

He even helps you plan your son’s fifth birthday. Robbie wanted to go all out on a dinosaur theme; he’s been hooked on Jurassic Park ever since Benny “accidentally” let him watch it with him on one of your rare nights out with your friends.

So you set up a little party at the park by your apartment. You managed to reserve the biggest gazebo, where there are three picnic tables covered with dinosaur plates, and tablecloths, streamers in different shades of green. You even bought a big dinosaur cake—also in a radioactive green color that you hadn’t been sure about, but your son talked you into. Robbie thinks it’s awesome.

He’s running around on the playground with a few of his friends from school. Their parents (along with Sam, Eileen, and Lisa) are talking amongst themselves at one of the picnic tables while you try to figure out how to get the Bluetooth speaker to connect with your phone.

“Haha! Got it. If you're so smart, Alexa, why don't you connect on the first try?” You fist-pump the air triumphantly, just as Benny comes to your side. He wraps an arm around your waist and kisses your cheek, making you smile.

“How’s it going out there?” you ask, nodding at the kids. Plus Dean, who’s gamely been the one to keep them entertained with different games. Right now, it’s a thrilling game of Cowboys and Outlaws, where Robbie and his friends are the cowboys, and Dean is the outlaw. He’s been hiding under the slide, behind trees and other playground fixtures, while the kids have little squirt guns to pelt him with water every time they find him.

It's pretty damn cute, and you’ve been taking pictures. You smile at the sight of Dean leaping out at Robbie and the kids, catching them off guard.

“You’ll never take me alive, Sheriff!” Dean declares.

“Oh, it’s goin’,” Benny remarks with an amused shake of his head. “Still hard to believe that guy’s about to make it to Lieutenant.”

“Hahaaa, gotcha!!” Dean cackles. He’s grabbed up Robbie and yanked him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Robbie screeches with laughter while his dad runs around the playground, being chased by a bunch of five-year-olds with squirt guns.

Your smile threatens to make your cheeks hurt. You know your life is…unconventional, to say the least, but Dean is a good father to your son. He’s also been working hard at his job. He just took the Lieutenant’s test, and even though Benny already occupies that position at Firehouse 83, a spot at another firehouse might open up for Dean to transfer.

“Part of me doesn’t want to,” Dean admitted to you last week, while he was working on fixing your stubborn, leaky sink. “All the guys there, they’re like family, you know?” “I understand,” you nodded. “You have to do what feels best for you, whether that’s staying where you feel comfortable, or moving up in your career somewhere else. If it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it.” He took in your advice with a slow nod. “Yeah, thanks. Guess I have to time to think about it. Lisa had other ideas.” “Of course,” you said with a smile, but it soon dropped. “Why, what did she say?” “Do what I can to move up,” he sighed. “She’s got a point. That title comes with a pay bump, one I could really use right now.” “I get that. Totally valid,” you said. “But I just think it’s important for you to be happy with it too. Especially with what you do, helping people, saving people…I’d imagine being in the right mindset for all that is important, right? Who you work with can be just as important as the money stuff.” Dean considered you with a smile. “Yeah, exactly.”

As you think about it now, you have to admit that he’s grown up a lot.

Dean has to lean against a tree to catch his breath. Am I already getting too old for this crap?

Feels kind of young to have a stitch in his side after a few rounds with these kids, but even he has his limits. Lisa comes to bring him a bottle of ice-cold water, which he appreciates. He’s tempted to dump it over his head like he does after successfully neutralizing a fire. It gets literally hot as hell under that helmet and mask and all his gear underneath.

“Need an iron lung?” Lisa teases.

“Toss in a new pair of knees, thanks,” he wheezes. He downs half the water bottle in one go, but he smiles at seeing his son keep running around with his friends. He’s just got that manic kid energy that goes on for days. But Robbie’s also smart; like Dean, he likes taking things apart and putting them back together in new and ingenious ways.

Dean hopes his son likes the new model car set that’s waiting for him on the picnic table full of presents. In fact, he’s still surprised that you didn’t go with the race car theme he suggested for the party, but apparently, Robbie’s more into dinosaurs now. Dean wishes he knew that before he bought the model car set.

He looks over and catches sight of you and Benny wrapped up in each other. He has his arm around your waist while you fiddle with something, but the way you lean over and whisper near his ear elicits a smile on Benny’s face.

Dean’s good mood diminishes.

“Well, don’t they seem cozy,” he mutters.

Lisa arches a manicured brow. “Yeah, pretty sure he’s getting ready to propose.”

That earns Dean’s attention, his head swiveling back to her in surprise.

“Really?” he asks. “Who told you that?”

“His sister,” she replies. “Meg’s in my intermediate class, remember?”

Dean nods, sipping at his water, even though he’s a bit absent in the eyes. Lisa watches him shrewdly.

“Why do you seem upset about it?” she asks. “Benny’s your friend.”

“I know,” Dean says. He doesn’t need that reminder, or the guilty twinge. It’s not like he’s done anything wrong.

“And she seems happy,” Lisa points out. “Don’t you want the mother of your kid to be with a good man who treats her right?”

He nods, trying to hide his growing annoyance. “‘Course I do. I just…I don’t know. I still don’t see them together, I guess.”

“Well, they’ve been together for like, two years.”

Again, Dean nods his acknowledgement. It’s hard for him to believe that so much time has passed already. He honestly didn’t think you and Benny would be together this long. He’d always felt a little uncomfortable with one of his best friends dating you, but you’d seemed happy about it, so he didn’t discourage it. But he’d never been very supportive, either. At least, not about your relationship.

Lisa sighs and grabs his arm, pulling him aside before he can rejoin the party.

“Listen, we need to talk about something,” she says.

Dean restrains a tired groan. “Can this wait ‘til later?”

“I think we should do this now,” she says. A hallmark Lisa-ism. She’s opinionated and strong-willed, something Dean’s always respected about her. Sometimes though, the timing is damn irritating. He doesn’t want to get into another argument with his girlfriend in public, especially not at his son’s birthday party.

“Speaking of commitment,” she says with a sigh. “I think it’s fair to say that we’ve been on a five-year rollercoaster, you and I. You know why that is?”

“I’m sure you’re gonna tell me,” Dean says, crossing his arms.

“It’s because you’re spread too thin,” she says. “Between the firehouse, construction jobs on the side…not to mention other things.”

“What? What’re you talking about?”

Lisa’s lips purse, before she pointedly gestures over at you with her eyes. “Well, for example. You’re still going to her place after your next shift to fix her fridge, right?”

“Yeah, I mean, should be pretty simple. I’ve just gotta swing by the hardware store and grab this specialty tool I ordered—”

“Dean,” Lisa deadpans. “That’s exactly the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

She heaves a deep breath, running her fingers through her long brown hair.

“I get that navigating this situation hasn’t been easy for you,” she says. “It hasn’t exactly been easy for me either, but look.”

Lisa takes his hands in hers, uncrossing his arms. “I want to get married someday. I want kids too. And I want that kind of life with you…I’m just not sure you want it with me.”

Dean expels a heavy sigh. “Lis—”

“Don’t answer me right now,” she says, but she levels him with a serious look. “You need to decide though, Dean. Five years is long enough. You should know by now if you want to be with me.”

After letting go of his hands, she softens the edges of her words with a gentle kiss on his cheek. Then she turns to join the group now gathered around the picnic table where the food is, all the kids cheering for pizza and cake.

After the party, Sam, Eileen, Lisa, and Benny pack up their cars and yours with the leftover food, party supplies, and presents. Dean helps you clean up the trash, all while keeping an eye on Robbie getting out the last of his sugar-high on the playground swing.

You shake your head tiredly, if with a fond smile. “That kid’s gonna be up all night hype on that radioactive cake.”

Dean chuckles. “You want me to take him tonight?”

“It’s okay. I think he’s going to want to play with his toys,” you reply.

“Well, he could just as easily do that at my place,” he reasons.

You consider it, but you shake your head. “Yeah, but we got him the bike. He’s probably gonna want to try it out for a few minutes before we get him cleaned up.”

“By ‘we,’ you mean you and Benny,” Dean says, his tone becoming surly. “And about that. Don’t you think a bike is something you should run by me? That’s typically a ‘dad’ kind of gift.”

You pause what you’re doing at the sound of his tone. Your brows knit together.

“Sorry, but I feel like a bike isn’t exclusively a dad thing,” you say.

“My dad got me my first bike,” Dean replies. “Spent a whole three days teaching me how to ride.”

You take a minute to think about it. You understand where Dean’s coming from, so you nod.

“Okay, I get it. You want to be there to help teach Robbie? I’m sure he’d love that.” 

Dean tosses a wadded-up ball of frosting-covered napkins and stops, letting his hands fall to his sides in frustration. He draws closer and helps you untie the balloons from the picnic table.

“Yeah, I do, but that’s not the point,” he says. “Why can’t I take him home tonight?”

You blink up at him in confusion. “Well, like I said. The bike—”

“That I should’ve gotten for him,” he snaps. “Which, let me guess, Benny picked out. Right?”

You frown at him in earnest now. “Dean, why are you getting so upset about it? It’s just a bike.”

“Well you know what, it’s not! And it’s not just the damn bike either.” He swipes a hand over his face in annoyance, a telltale sign you’ve come to read well on the man. “Look, I’m missing too much shit, all right? Like, like the dinosaur thing! And the fact that I only get him on the weekends.”

You turn toward him, trying to put a cap on your own annoyance. This isn’t the first time you two have had a conversation like this. 

“We’ve gone over this before, Dean. Your schedule at the firehouse is just too unpredictable,” you say. “Robbie needs as much stability as possible between us. But…okay, if you want to take him tonight, that’s fine. We can bring the bike over to your place and show it to him there.”

You’re trying to be as reasonable as possible, and Dean knows that. Still, anger prickles just under his skin, and he can’t help but push his luck.

“You still should’ve asked be before you got the bike in the first place,” he argues.

Your brows raise high. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Look, it’s not like we bought him a Honda Civic. Honestly, Dean, why are you picking a fight with me right now?” you ask. “Did you and Lisa get into it again or something?”

Dean looks away and crosses his arms, giving you all the confirmation you need.

“Yeah, that’s right,” you nod. “I saw you two over there on the playground, looked pretty heated. But do me a favor. Don’t come at me with that energy, because I’m too damn tired of it!”

When you walk away from him, Dean can’t help but stare after you. He knows he fucked that up, just as he knows that you don’t deserve him snapping at you. He’s just too irritated to admit it.

For the entire week that follows, Dean finds himself distracted. He sticks to his word and helps Benny teach his son how to ride a bike in between their shifts at the firehouse, but Dean comes home each night feeling even more frustrated and drained than before. It’s too much, knowing Benny’s slowly but surely carving out a father-figure role in Robbie’s life.

These thoughts follow Dean to work, even while he climbs up the firetruck ladder in the rain. It’s parallel to a busted utility pole that still sparks with electricity, even in this torrential downpour. His task is to get up to the top and grab a large branch that’s tangled in the lines.

Rung after rung, he climbs. His safety mask protects his eyes from the rain, but he wishes they had some mini windshield wipers to keep his vision clear of the droplets pelting him in the face.

He also can’t help thinking of you. If Lisa’s right, then Benny’s about to become a more permanent fixture in Robbie’s life, and yours. 

Okay fine. It’s not like Dean expected you to be single forever, but did you really have to get with one of his best friends? Does it really have to be Benny, who seems so natural with Robbie, and more patient than Dean, and more of a support to you and Robbie than Dean can ever be?

And then there’s Lisa’s little ultimatum. He understands why she’s frustrated with him. Honestly, he’s surprised she’s stuck around this long. He knows she’s not going to wait too much longer for him to get his act together. For him to decide, as she put it.

It’s not that he’s not sure about her, it’s just that…

Just that what? he wonders.

He manages to grab the wily tree branch and maneuver it out of the power lines. 

He just doesn’t realize that his glove doesn’t have quite enough friction on the metal side panel of the ladder. Not only does his hand slip, but he’s forced to let go of the branch while he loses his balance. The branch falls to the sidewalk, far, far down below.

“Dean!” Benny shouts in alarm.

Luckily, the truck itself breaks Dean's fall.

Holding Robbie’s hand tightly in yours is the only thing keeping you steady as you lead him through the hospital. After the receptionist had checked you both in and gave you the room number, you hastened down the hall and up to the right floor. 2005.

Robbie breaks into tears when he finally gets to see his dad, laid up though he is in his hospital bed. Your throat tightens at the sight of Dean hooked up to all those monitors. He has his arm wrapped up and fitted into a sling. He has a thick piece of gauze taped to the side of his face, covering a wide, angry abrasion, but he seems to be resting easy on his back. The bed is at an incline, with most of the overhead lights turned off.

Robbie rushes to the bed before you can stop him. He hesitantly touches Dean’s non-injured right hand. “Daddy?”

“Robbie, wait,” you say, keeping your voice quiet. You quickly go over to the bedside and grab ahold of Robbie’s shoulders, but Dean takes a deep breath. His eyelids crack open.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, attempting a smile. His voice is rough and weak, but at least he’s awake.

Robbie’s lower lip wobbles as tears fill his eyes again.

“Come ‘ere,” Dean says, a little stronger. When he reaches out to his son, the kid hops up onto the bed and buries his face into his father’s chest. Dean holds him as securely as he can, soothing his hand over the boy’s hair and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“It’s okay, little man. ‘M okay,” he promises. Robbie nods, but he still continues to cry.

You can’t help but do the same. Tears slip down your cheeks without your consent. Dean beckons you over too, gesturing with his chin and a slight smile. You’re more tentative in the way you sit down at the edge of his bed. You run your fingers through Robbie’s light brown hair to help reassure him. Then, you meet Dean’s gaze and lay a hand on his good shoulder. You don’t know whether you’re steadying him, or yourself.

“How do you feel?” you ask. “The hospital called me. Benny told me what happened.”

The thought reminds you to text your boyfriend. You hadn’t had a chance to tell him you made it here yet. He must be downstairs grabbing a bite to eat, because he’s the one who rode with Dean in the ambulance and has been with him for a while.

“The hospital called you?” Dean notes in slight confusion.

“Eileen told me that Sam is in court right now, so I must’ve been next on the list,” you say. He also must have taken Lisa off his emergency list the last time they broke up for almost a month. He probably forgot to update it again.

You reach out a hand to almost touch the bandage by his temple. Instead, you hesitantly hold the side of his face to see the area better. Dean closes his eyes for a moment. You can see he’s in pain. Your hand lingers on his cheek, but you know, deep down, that it shouldn’t.

Dean doesn’t stop you though. He lets out a deep breath, savoring how nice the gentle touch feels when the rest of his body feels battered to hell.

“Fell off the ladder. Was a stupid rookie move,” he explains, but when he sees that look on your face, he tries to inject a little more joking into a smile. “S’ not so bad.”

“You could’ve broken your head as well as your arm,” you say, more sharply than you mean to.

Robbie whimpers and clings tighter to Dean. You cover your mouth, as if you can trap the words back inside. You don’t want to upset your son more than he already is, so you fall silent. Another tear works its way down your cheek, but you brush it away. Dean shakes his head.

“Hey, I’m okay,” he reassures you too. He manages to smile as he pats Robbie’s back. “Right, buddy?”

The boy’s head perks up. His eyes are still shiny, but he smiles too. He’s not one to speak when he’s upset though, so he just curls up against Dean’s chest and hangs onto him. Dean rests his good arm snugly around him.

You smile and stroke Robbie’s back. Though your hand lowers, resting on Dean’s hand. You take in a deep breath to calm yourself down. Dean’s fingers curl around yours, prompting you to glance up into his eyes. The way he’s watching you is soft, grateful.

Until the door creaks open. Benny steps in with a subtle clearing of his throat. You jolt internally, and you slip your hand away from Dean’s. You offer your boyfriend a wan smile.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hey, baby.” He comes over and greets you with a kiss to the side of your head. He smiles at your son gently. “The gang’s all here.”

“Oh! Let me call Sam, and Lisa too. They still don’t know what’s going on,” you say. You get up from the bed to grab your phone out of your purse. Dean nods in agreement and thanks you, while Robbie plays with his dad's long fingers.

“How you holdin’ up, brother?” Benny asks, after you step out of the room. He settles into the chair near the foot of the bed.

“Ah, you know me. I’m like a cat. Always stick the landing,” Dean says, smiling lazily. The morphine is starting to kick in again.

Benny smirks. “Maybe you do got nine lives, the amount of close calls you like gettin’ yourself into.”

Dean’s good humor fades. He considers his son in his arms, and he shakes his head.

“Yeah, well, no more,” he says. He got a taste of what it would be like to leave his boy behind, and he’s not fucking doing it. He’s not leaving you to raise Robbie by yourself. The mere idea tears a new hole in his heart.

His eyes sting just enough that he has to blink a bit harder, swallowing past a thick well of emotion in his throat. He presses another kiss to the top of Robbie’s head. Then, Dean meets Benny’s gaze.

“Thank you,” he says, and he means it.

Benny nods.

“You got it, brother.”

When Lisa steps off the hospital elevator on the second floor, you happen to be coming out of the bathroom to fix your racoon eyes. You’ve been crying way too much. You attempt to greet Lisa with something reassuring, but she cuts you off. 

“What happened, and why didn’t the hospital call me directly?” she asks.

Her tone is cutting, and it takes you aback.

“Well, Sam and I were listed as his emergency contacts—”

“Why?” she snaps. “You’re not his wife or his girlfriend. I should’ve been listed.”

Jesus Christ. At this point, you can’t help it. You’re too tired and emotionally drained to lasso in your temper with this woman.

“Maybe if you and Dean stayed together longer than five minutes at a time, he’d put you back on the short list,” you sling back. “But the truth is, you’ve never just…been there for Dean. Not without demanding something from him.”

Lisa scoffs incredulously. “Oh, that’s fucking rich coming from you. You’re the reason he can’t commit to anything. You think your little world is the only one that matters, and you call Dean for any little thing! What, don’t you have a boyfriend to help fix your goddamn sink?” 

You open your mouth to retort, but you pause as her words seep into your mind. She might actually have a small point about that one. You realize then just how often you’ve been asking Dean for his help, not just with your apartment, but with your car, and other logistical things that usually have to with Robbie. Dean’s just such a good handyman, and you thought he genuinely liked being able to help…even though Benny did mention once or twice that he’d be just as happy to help you.

“Lisa, this is a lot more than a leaky sink. I just wanted to get here with Robbie and make sure Dean was okay,” you try to explain.

“Good. I’m glad his son was the first person Dean got to see when he woke up,” Lisa says. “But I should’ve been the second.”

She brushes past you before you can even think of what to say. You’re in a state of shock, feeling guilty, incensed, and on the verge of tears all at once.

A familiar voice calls your name, and you turn to Benny just as those tears begin to fall. He gathers you up into his arms and holds you there in the middle of the hallway.

“She shouldn’t talk to you like that, no matter how high tensions are today. I’ll talk to Dean,” Benny says. You shake your head and bury your face in his chest, clenching your fingers in his red flannel shirt. 

“No, it’s okay,” you reply, despite the sob that shudders through you. You’ve lost the will to fight.

Benny shakes his head and presses a kiss to your forehead. “It ain’t okay, baby.”

“Please, don’t bother Dean with this. Especially not right now,” you say. You take a moment to wipe your eyes and get ahold of yourself. “I’m gonna go get Robbie so Dean can rest.”

You can’t shake the feeling that Lisa is right. You do rely on Dean too much. You just don’t want to think about why that is.

Dean makes a full recovery after a few months. He never does hear about what happened in that hallway, but he knows that things need to change. 

He decides to dig out his mom’s engagement ring from a locked box of his parents’ keepsakes, though he’s still waiting on the right time for it. He and Lisa start looking at houses though, for real this time. She hires a realtor and everything. 

He’s making a firm decision, and he thinks it’s the right one. He wants to be there for his son, but he doesn’t want to keep “spreading himself too thin.” He has to figure out how to set some roots, and some boundaries with you while he’s at it. He’ll just have to come to terms with the idea that he won’t get to be there for everything. 

He has to be okay with the fact that you’ll probably marry Benny. You’ll keep making him cookies and cakes, giving him your smile and your time and your body. And Robbie will probably think of Benny as more of a father than his own Weekend Dad. 

Meanwhile, you’ve spent the past few months keeping yourself in check as well. You’ve stopped calling Dean for help whenever something breaks down in your old-ass apartment. You try to keep your conversations less about life and troubles and whatever funny thing your students did that day in class, and more focused on Robbie–strictly about his schedule and his needs.

It’s kind of painful, if you’re honest with yourself. Sam will always be one of your closest friends from college, but in the past five years, Dean has truly become your best friend. Because you’ve told him things. The things that come from sharing a child with someone, like Sunday dinners with your parents, flipping through old yearbooks and childhood pictures—and the details of day-to-day schedules and little stupid things that happen in moments between moments.

Dean also knows the deep cuts. Like being pregnant and scared and breaking down crying on the side of the road. Like sharing the deepest well of your insecurities with someone who knows your body intimately, even if just for one amazing night...a night you’ve never quite been able to put out of your mind.

However, you know that things can’t stay the same. From now on, he just needs to be your son’s father. Nothing more, nothing less. 

So today, on a crisp April 24th, you’re getting ready for a highly anticipated evening with your boyfriend. Robbie is sleeping over your parents’ house, and Benny has been planning something special for your third-year anniversary. 

You slip into your new dress, a deep emerald green, with a pair of black heels you’ve rarely worn since before you got pregnant. Come to think of it, you were wearing these the night of Sam and Eileen’s bachelor-bachelorette party. The night you…well, the night Robbie was conceived. 

You shake your head to rid yourself of those thoughts. You even consider changing. 

You’re being silly, you shake your head. They’re just shoes. 

And yet. Thinking of that time so long ago, it reminds you of a recent Sunday dinner at your parents’ house.

Two Months Ago...

Your parents live modestly, but comfortably in rural Kansas. Their ranch-style home boasts a creek in the backyard, where your dad is teaching your son how to catch minnows. Your mom is inside working on an apple pie, knowing it’s both Dean’s and Robbie’s favorite.

You and Dean have kept close to the house under the shade, sitting on a bench made more comfortable by a pair of old polyester cushions with red, faded flowers.

“How much longer do you have to wear that?” you ask Dean. He glances down at his cast-covered left arm.

“Doc says it’s about ready to come off,” he says.

You nod, allowing yourself a certain smile. “How bad are you itching to grab my mom’s garden shears and cut it off right here?”

“Woman, don’t tempt me,” he says, his lips twitching at a grin. “I’ve been eying those overgrown scissors for the past half hour.”

You laugh and take another sip of your glass. Yours holds sweet tea, while Dean’s has some of your dad’s favorite whiskey. You both raise your heads when Robbie yells across the backyard.

“I caught a minnow!”

“Good job, buddy,” Dean grins. “See if you can catch a marlin!”

“A marlin?” Robbie questions.

“Yeah, like that orange guy in Finding Nemo,” Dean calls back.

Your dad gives Dean the same wry look you do, though yours is tinged with more amusement.

“Dean, that’s a clown fish,” you say. “He’s not gonna find that in the creek.”

“Aw, shit,” he tries to quiet his laugh. “Ah well, should keep him occupied for another twenty minutes.”

You bite your lip to stifle your laughter as well. Though something else occurs to you the longer you watch your son play and explore in the creek. Your dad has the patience of a saint as he puts yet another bait worm on the hook for the kid.

“He’s starting to ask questions, you know,” you tell Dean, in a quieter voice. “‘Why aren’t you and Daddy married? Why can’t we all live together?’”

Dean's brows raise. His good humor dims when he looks over at you.

“What do you tell him?” he asks.

You take in a deep breath, considering your words now as carefully as you did with your son.

“That we care about each other a lot, as friends,” you say, meeting Dean’s eyes. “And we love Robbie very much. Nothing’s going to change that, even if you and I aren’t together like a normal mom and dad.”

Saying it like that makes your heart twinge, for more than one reason. The way Dean’s mouth twitches into a rueful smile just makes it worse, but you try your best to ignore it.

“I never thought about having to explain it to him,” he says, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

It’s that anxious tell of his again. You notice every time he does it.

“I have,” you admit. “I just didn’t know for sure what I was going to say until it was coming out of my mouth.”

Dean smirks a little. “Yeah, that sounds like you.”

You roll your eyes and sip your drink, crossing your arms as well. Dean considers you then, looking at you in a way that makes you raise a brow in question.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing, it’s just…” He sits back against the bench and rubs his hands down his jean-clad thighs. “For the record, I did try to ask you out once.”

“What?” you scoff incredulously. “No, you’ve been with Lisa since the beginning.”

“Before Lisa,” Dean says.

He isn’t joking. He isn’t teasing. He’s serious as he stares back at you with those green eyes of his. Your brows furrow as you wrack your brain. Did he drunkenly leave you a voicemail on one of those “off again” episodes between him and Lisa? No. You know you’d remember something like that.

“It was a few weeks after the bachelor party,” Dean says. “I called you up, remember?”

Your eyes widen. Finally, that jogs your memory.

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.” And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition.

You have to laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Dean, you did not ask me out,” you say. “You wanted to hook up. There’s a distinct difference.”

Dean frowns at you. “No, I was. I invited you over—”

“For essentially some Netflix and chill,” you retort.

“Hey, I offered to make you dinner,” he argues. “I didn’t say anything about hooking up.”

You pause at that. His earnest denial makes you actually think back to what you remember about that conversation on the phone.

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.” And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition. “I could make us some burgers, toss in a couple of beers and a movie night,” he adds.

You cover your lips with your fingers as you begin to realize…

“That was you asking me out?” you ask incredulously.

Dean’s brows furrow and he throws his hands up. “What? Who doesn’t like a little movie night?”

“Dean,” you huff another laugh. “You could’ve made it sound more like a date.”

“Well, ‘scuse me. Sorry I couldn’t afford the Ritz at the time,” he grumbles.

You sigh. “That’s not what I meant.”

The more you think about it, the more you just shake your head at yourself. Why did you have to overthink it, like you do everything?

“Wow,” you say, softer and more contrite. “I honestly never thought…”

“Yeah,” he says. He shifts his gaze out ahead.

You glance over at him, now more unsure of yourself. He wouldn’t have any regrets, you think. He has Lisa. As much as they go at it, they always inevitably get back together. And now you know they hired a realtor. They’re about to start making solid steps forward.

But Dean surprises you with another question.

“Do you think if…”

He doesn’t finish it, but you think you know what he’s asking. You hesitate, your fingers flexing around your glass that beads with condensation. You set the glass down beside you. 

Just as you open your mouth to reply—

“All right, pie is cooling and dinner is served!” your mom calls out. Her head pokes out of the sliding glass door to the backyard. You offer a smile, trying to hide how you jolted in your seat.

“Okay, thanks, Mom,” you nod.

You turn back to Dean, who also hesitates. His eyes meet yours, but all too soon, he locks the moment away.

Bracing his hands on his knees, he rocks to his feet and goes out to get Robbie and help your dad bring in the fishing gear.

You grab Dean’s whiskey along with your tea on your way back inside the house. You consider the amber liquid disturbed in his glass, and you down the rest yourself. The burn down your throat is a good distraction. If he asks about it, you’ll say you got the glasses confused.

You know you’ll have to leave that conversation unfinished at the foot of the bench.

Now...

Benny comes by your apartment and helps you into the passenger side of his pickup truck, like the gentleman he is. He takes you to a nice restaurant in downtown, much nicer than the usual sports bar or kid-friendly restaurant. You're very much looking forward to eating at a restaurant that doesn't feature chicken fingers or "kiddie" corn dogs.

“This is gonna be really expensive,” you whisper to him, after he hands his keys over to the valet. 

Benny squeezes your hand in his, leaning over to kiss your temple. 

“Don’t you worry about that. We both deserve a night out.” His blue eyes gleam with amusement. However, his gaze gentles, becoming more sincere. “You work hard, carin’ for everybody around you. How about you let me take care of you for once.”

Your eyes begin to water, your throat constricting with emotion. You rub his arm gratefully.

“Thank you,” you say. “You don’t know how much I appreciate that.” 

It’s always easy with Benny. Nice and simple and easy. Nice, supportive, and considerate.

Nice and safe.

That thought follows you while you and Benny walk into to the restaurant. He’s reserved great seats in the back corner, overlooking a beautiful courtyard. It’s decorated with hydrangeas and light wood dining tables, all framed with a rod iron archway as the sun begins to set just so. After holding your chair out for you before he sits himself, Benny orders a bottle of champagne to kick things off.

He turns to you with a somewhat nervous look in his eyes, like he's steeling himself. It’s uncharacteristic of Benny, who’s always so calm and charming and sure of himself. It makes a zing of anticipation run down your spine, and…a dash of fear. You don’t know why, and you don’t know how to beat the feeling down as you fidget in your seat.

He subtly clears his throat, then takes your hand. “Sweetheart, I know I’m not all that good at the words you’re supposed to say. But I can say that the past three years with you and Robbie, it’s come to mean the world to me.”

Your smile softens. He brushes his thumb over the back of your hand, encouraged by your reaction.

“So I think it’s time I made it clear where I stand, and how much I want to be the man in your life,” he says.

Your eyes begin to widen in shock, but not for the reason he thinks.

“Dean,” you gasp.

Benny’s expression slackens. “What?”

You point over his shoulder, and Benny turns to follow your line of vision. Dean and Lisa have just walked into the restaurant. They notice you pointing their way, and they both pause in surprise as well. Lisa is beautiful as usual in a slinky black dress, completely backless (something you feel you could never pull off, unless you had an invisible bra to keep the girls perked up).

Dean is…well, you’ve very rarely seen him in a suit, but charcoal gray works for him. The open collar and white buttoned-down works for him, as do the three top buttons he’s left undone, showing a tantalizing strip of tanned skin. He stares back at you like he forgot you live in the same time zone, let alone the same zip code.

“Uh, hey!” he casts out an awkward wave, before he makes his way over to you and Benny. Lisa is less than enthused.

“We shouldn’t interrupt their night,” you catch her whisper to him, but Dean doesn’t seem to hear her.

“What’s up, party people! Of all the gin joints in all the world, huh?” Dean says, a little too loudly when he thumps Benny on the back. Benny grunts, giving a bit of a forced chuckle.

“Dean,” he greets. “I think I told you about this particular gin joint. Good to see you can actually clean up once in a while.”

“Ah, you know what, this monkey suit ain’t too bad,” Dean says, pulling at his collar.

You smirk in amusement. “Yeah, I remember how much you complained about wearing a simple tie for Robbie’s Christmas pageant.”

He smirks down at you. “Hey, ties still might not be my thing, but nothing wrong with a sharp collar.”

He pops his for emphasis. You don’t know why it makes you laugh, but it does. Maybe it’s just his face and the silly, endearing expression he makes when he pouts his lips in a “blue steel.”

“So, is this just a night out, or you guys celebrating something special?” Dean asks, gesturing at the champagne bottle and your full glasses of bubbly.

Benny gives his friend a certain look. “Yeah, as a matter of fact. Today’s three years.”

He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. You smile back at him, though you’re a bit self-conscious at the way both he and Dean, and even Lisa have their attention on you.

“We should let you guys get back to it then,” Lisa says.

Honestly, it’s a relief. You and Benny nod, wishing them a goodnight.

For some reason, you notice how Dean’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. But he goes with Lisa, laying a hand on the small of her back. You force yourself to tear your eyes away from them and refocus on Benny. You take up your champagne glass and raise it in offering.

“All right, where were we?” you ask, if with a nervous trill in your belly.

Benny smiles. He takes up his glass and clinks it with yours.

Lisa nearly sighs. She and Dean are back in line at the front of the restaurant, waiting to be seated. The second time she catches Dean glancing over at the table where you and Benny sit, she shakes her head and digs into her purse for the valet card. She’s done with this.

“I think maybe we should go to a different restaurant,” she says.

That finally earns Dean’s attention, mostly confused. “What, why?”

She just gives him a long look.

He realizes that whatever her reasons are, it’s easier to just give in than to fight her on it. He’s learning when to pick his battles. Or is he just giving up?

Also, if tonight’s “the night” he thinks it is for you and Benny, maybe he doesn’t want to stick around after all. Three years, huh?

“All right, fine. Let’s go,” he agrees.

Dean and Lisa wait for the valet to bring the Impala around. The minute he gets behind the wheel and turns the key into the ignition, she changes her mind.

“Look, let’s just go home,” she says. “I don’t really feel like eating out anymore.”

Dean’s brows raise. “What? Aw, come on. We’re already dressed and everything. You look great, Lis. Just tell me where you wanna eat.”

Lisa remains firm, with a small shake of her head. “Please, Dean, just take me home.”

After a moment of indecision, Dean sighs. He revs the ignition and does as she says.

It’s only a fifteen-minute drive back to their apartment, but in that stifling silence, it seems to drag on for a small eternity. He glances at her a couple of times. Lisa has her arms crossed as she stares out the window, watching the other restaurants and mom-and-pops shops and forest trees and old houses of Lebanon, Kansas go by.

Dean counts it a blessing when they’re finally home. He walks up the few short steps up to their ground-floor apartment and unlocks the door. He flicks on the lights inside, and she breezes past him to toss her purse onto the couch.

Dean takes off his blazer and begins to undo the buttons on his cuffs. He watches her all the while, knowing that a storm is brewing. She shucks off her heels and slowly paces the living room on bare feet, like her whirling thoughts are fueling every step.

“All right, I give. What’s going on?” Dean asks. “What’d I do this time?”

She pauses, with her back turned to him.

Shit, he thinks. He shouldn’t have said it like that.

He prepares for the inevitable blow up, but it never comes. Lisa just heaves a sigh. Slowly she turns, and Dean’s shocked and dismayed to see the tears welling up in her deep brown eyes. He makes quick strides toward her, but she raises a hand to keep him at bay.

“Dean, when you picture yourself happy, truly happy,” she says. “Is it with me? Can you imagine yourself marrying me? Buying the house, having kids, growing old together?”

If Dean was thrown for a loop before, he’s even more stunned by her question. “Lis…”

“Just be honest, for once,” she pleads. Her tears begin to brim over, but she blinks, somehow keeping them at bay.

It’s a bit too long before Dean realizes that he can’t give her an answer. At least, not the one he knows she wants to hear.

When he thinks of that picture in his mind, of course he sees his son. But the only other person Dean can imagine there beside him is…

“I…” He wills his mouth to work, but nothing else comes out.

The only face he can conjure is yours. Your eyes are warm and welcoming, your smile as bright and contagious as your laugh.

The only voice he can hear is yours, gentle and strong at the same time.

The only one he can see is you.

He knows the shampoo you use and the perfume you like to wear, how the sweet and floral scents mix together and linger in your hair and on your skin.

Even now he remembers the contours of your body, and how it could fit so well against his. He knows that you used to try and hide your shape under loose, baggy shirts and cargo pants that did nothing for you. He knows how much courage it took you to wear that red dress to his brother’s party, because you told him once, at one of those Sunday dinners at your parents’ house.

Come to think of it, there’s not a whole lot that Dean doesn’t know about you, except maybe what you see when you look at him.

“You love her,” Lisa finishes for him. “I think you always have.”

Dean’s throat tightens. Somehow he swallows anyway, and he shakes his head. 

“Lisa, I loved you.”

“Maybe you did, in your own way,” she says, laughing a little through her tears as she wipes them away. “But you already have a family, Dean. Go fight for it.” 

Dean doesn’t know what to say, but he knows what he can do.

He goes to her and kisses her cheek. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says. 

Lisa merely nods, wiping her face dry. She watches Dean Winchester walk out of her apartment, and out of her life for good this time. 

Dean calls your cell, but it goes to voicemail. He drives all the way back to the restaurant and doesn’t find you or Benny there. 

Dean realizes that what he’s doing, what he plans to do, is not fucking cool. He wouldn’t blame you or even Benny for being severely pissed when Dean shows up. He also knows that he can’t let another day pass where he keeps lying to you, and himself. 

He eventually finds you at home. What’s weird is that Benny’s truck isn’t in the driveway—just your car. He knocks on your door, and he waits.

He unconsciously holds his breath while he waits in that terrible existence of limbo. However, his heart thrums back to life when he hears your footsteps drawing closer to the door. Anticipation, excitement, dread, it all roils together inside him like a bad cocktail as the door swings open.

And he’s once again rendered a bit breathless at the sight of you in that dress. The color alone appeals to him, let alone the way it accentuates your every curve, from full breasts to the swell of your hips, the softer slope of your thighs, and bare toes painted. You’re fucking delectable, every curve, and a temptation without you even meaning to be. 

You’re just…you’re still so goddamn beautiful, like the night he first saw you. Even now, he can almost feel the give of your thighs under his hands, his fingers pressed to supple flesh. 

But then he’s drawn to your face, and your wide eyes full of surprise. Your mascara is a bit smudged though. Your eyes are red too, like you’ve been crying. His brows furrow in concern.

“Dean, what’re you doing here?” you ask.

“I need to talk to you, but uh…did something happen?” he asks. “You okay?”

You’re reluctant to tell him. Did Benny say something to upset you? Or was it something he did?

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say.

Instinctively, Dean knows it’s a lie.

“This isn’t a good time though,” you say, after clearing your throat. “Can we do this tomorrow, maybe?”

Dean leans a hand on the doorframe.

“Please, it’s important,” he says. His eyes implore you harder than his words. Please.

That does it. A sigh passes through your lips, but you let him in. He knows Robbie is with your parents for the night, which actually makes this easier.

Once he steps inside the apartment, Dean does notice that your bedroom door is open. Half the drawers to your dresser are open too, and empty. Certain frames that used to be on your coffee table are no longer there, like the one of you, Benny, and Robbie on a camping trip. 

“You want some coffee, or soda?” you ask. 

Dean declines and grasps your arm before you can busy yourself into “hostess” mode. He leads you to the couch, where you both sit down together.

“What happened tonight?” he asks. “Where’s Benny?”

Your lower lip wobbles, the beginning of your telltale cry face. Dean knows his son gets it from you, and it always breaks his heart. He squeezes your arm gently, trying to ground you.

“Benny proposed to me tonight,” you confess, taking in a sharp breath. “He proposed, and I couldn’t give him an answer.” 

You shake your head as the tears sting hot in your eyes. 

“He got so upset, he just—he left!” You throw your hands up. “But honestly, I don’t blame him.”

Dean tries to comfort you as you try and fail to wipe at your face. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, cupping your cheek to brush the tears away himself. 

“Why couldn’t you answer him?” he asks. 

You look up at Dean, and you finally notice the shine of hope in his eyes. Dean touches your cheek more tenderly. 

“Does it mean I have a chance here?” he asks.

Despite what your eyes tell you, you still gape at him in shock. “What? But…what about Lisa?”

“It’s over. For good this time,” Dean shakes his head. “I realized what I wanted for my life, and where my heart is…”

And he chuckles weakly. “Truth is, you’ve had it the whole time, sweetheart.”

You begin to crumble all over again. You pull away from him and his touch, because you can’t believe it. You cover your face with your hands, sniffling as you try to make sense of his words, his touch, and the warm flutter threatening to brim happiness in your heart.

“God, Dean. You can't just..."

"I mean it," he insists.

You're still reluctant to take him seriously...no matter how much you want to. It's a conflicting realization that hurts, and makes you feel stupid for taking so long to figure it out, and makes you hate yourself for hoping his words are true.

"Come the morning, you’re going to change your mind,” you reason, without looking at him. “Like you’ve done with Lisa a thousand times.”

“No,” Dean says firmly. He shifts closer and prompts you to look at him, really look at him.

“Not about this, and you know it,” he says, catching and holding your gaze. “That’s why you couldn’t say yes to Benny. Because you know what we’ve got. It’s the real deal.”

You still look uncertain, even though you can’t bring yourself to pull away this time. Dean has always had this way of looking into the very depths of you, like he can actually see every thought as it passes through your mind.  

“I should’ve said yes,” you say. “I can rely on Benny. I know he would stay by my side, and…and I know he won’t hurt me.”

Not like I’ve just hurt him, you think. Guilt still pricks at your heart. The last thing you ever wanted to do was lead him on, and yet, that’s what you’d done, wasn’t it? You thought you had loved him. You’re sure that you did, but maybe it just wasn’t the kind of love that could reach down deep and grab you, set your blood on fire, and make you ache when the burn was gone.

That spark licks across your skin when Dean takes your hands.  

“What if I want to be that guy for you,” he says.

You allow yourself to look at him. Really look at him.

You know Dean. When he gets an idea in his head, it inhabits every bone and shred of muscle in his body. There’s no mistaking his resolve, or the steady grip of his hands over yours.

“If you let me, I’ll stay. I won’t leave you,” he says. In his eyes, there’s a firm promise. “I can be the guy you rely on. The man you can trust. The man who’s gonna love you, come whatever. Because now I know what it means. I know how it feels.”

You bite your lower lip against the smile that wants to surface.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

Dean smiles for you. “If you wanna know the truth, I’m pretty sure I’ve been loving you since the day I heard Robbie’s heartbeat for the first time.” 

Your tears flow harder at that. A shaky breath escapes you, though it does nothing to steady you. Dean strokes your cheek gently with his thumb. 

“Please, just give me this one chance,” he asks. Begs, really. 

He doesn’t have to though. You nod, just a little. 

“Okay,” you agree. “Let’s try.”

Dean's smile spreads slow, but warm across his face. It’s your favorite kind, the kind that crinkles his eyes. 

He leans in and claims your lips with his own. The passion of it is familiar, but you don't think it’s the same as five years ago. Now, there’s an underlying note of tenderness in his touch and each new way he tastes you deeper. He holds nothing back this time, and neither do you. 

Your fingers tangle in his shirt, and then in his hair as you moan into his mouth. “Dean.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he answers against your lips, though he doesn’t give you much room to keep talking.

You haven’t heard him call you sweetheart in a long time. You feel your heart knitting back together, stitch by stitch. Tears sting in your eyes anew, but you squeeze your eyes shut against them.

“I…”

You can’t even continue the breathless thought. You hold his face desperately between your hands, pressing your forehead to his for a moment as you both catch your breath. But this man is like the sweetest, most seductive vice. Now that you’ve gotten another hit, you can’t resist. You no longer want to.

His arms wrap around you more securely, and he leans in to lure you back into his kiss. His tongue breaches past your lips to curl along yours with tantalizing strokes. His hands slowly move down your back and along your waist.

“Mmm, missed the hell outta this,” he groans into your mouth. Your heart flutters again at the way he holds you, the way his big hands squeeze you and feel you.

You let him guide you down onto the sofa cushions. He slots himself between your bare thighs and runs his hand up familiar smooth skin, bunching the skirt of your dress higher as he goes. He aims to get himself reacquainted with every soft part of you that welcomes him back.

For once, the gates around your hearts swing free. 

Dean never imagined that his own son would hand him the ring he gives to his wife, but today, it just feels like symmetry. He grins and winks at Robbie.

“Thanks, buddy,” Dean says.

His son’s beaming grin is wide and toothy, but the boy takes his job very seriously and delivers the other ring to you. You smile brightly and caress his cheek after you take the shining, white gold band from him. It matches the thinner band that Dean has for you; it'll soon join the engagement ring that once belonged to his mother.

Robbie had liked Benny a lot, but he loves his dad. He’s probably the happiest person in the room to see his parents take each other’s hands in front of the minister. 

Benny is understandably absent in the chapel today. You had met with him after that night of your botched anniversary to apologize to him, and so had Dean. Benny understood. He’d admitted that in the back of his mind, he feared this might happen.

“I wouldn’t blame you for being angry with me,” you said to him. “You can even hate me if you want.” Benny gave 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.”

Even though Benny bowed out, carrying his hurt and his grief on those broad shoulders, letting you go meant letting go of a friend too. He put in his paperwork to transfer out of Firehouse 83.

As he’d told Dean himself that day, and in fact, the last words Benny said to him…

“There you go, Lieutenant. A spot’s just opened up.”

Dean didn’t want to get promoted this way. He felt guilty enough as it was, and not just for Benny leaving the firehouse. Benny recommended Dean to the Chief himself though, saying that if they were going to give someone a Lieutenant’s badge, it may as well be the guy who got a perfect score on his test, and had the natural leadership skills to boot.

To the end, Benny was a gentleman.

Now, Sam beckons his nephew over. Robbie quickly goes to his uncle’s side and puffs his little chest out as he stands proud behind his dad. 

Dean is able to take you in, your beautiful white dress, and everything about you that makes him smile…including the way you smile back at him.

Man and wife is all he hears. It’s all he needs to hear, before he’s pulling you closer by your newly anointed hand. He dips you for a thorough kiss in front of all your family and friends. 

You squeal in surprise, making Dean smile hard enough for his cheeks to hurt. Giggling hard enough to make you tremble, you raise a hand to caress his cheek. But you give him another real kiss after he guides you back up to your feet.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips. The words are just for him to hear. Dean pulls back enough to see the truth shining in your eyes. Beautiful.

“Can’t help it, right?” he teases. 

You smile in amusement, but you grab his chin and shake it. 

“You got me,” you reply. “I really, really can’t.”

Your beaming smile softens. Even though the entire room is clapping and hooting and hollering in celebration, in that moment, all you really see is Dean. 

Here in his arms, you know that this is where you were meant to end up. From now on, it’s where you’re meant to be.

AN: From Lisa and Benny to Robbie and everything in between. Dean and the reader certainly aren't perfect in this, but what do you think about how their story unfolded? I truly hope you guys enjoy this one, because I've had so much fun with it. 🥰❤️❤️‍🔥

**As a reminder, One More Day (Dean x Latina Plus-Sized!Reader) comes out on 4/04 - the day after my birthday!~

Until then, please let me know what you thought of If I Stay! 😘 I might write more for these two in the future...

"Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, if I can't help falling in love with you?"

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 @chevroletdeanwrites @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

[anhesacardia]

Forbidden Promises

Chapter 8 (Series Masterlist)

Pairing: Modernau!Sukuna x Mother!Reader

Genre: Hidden Baby Trope

Summary: Reader opens up a bakery after running away from her three year relationship with Sukuna, effectively ghosting him and hiding away in the middle of the countryside. Unknown to Sukuna, reader also had a baby, and now is living peacefully until an unfateful meeting starts to pull her back into the life she so desperately escaped from.

Tw: Also I love women and the depiction of women gushing over sukuna is purely for the plot point of reader realizing she’s not okay with Sukuna being with someone else and she still loves him. I don’t agree with the demonizing of other women jut because they flirt with someone who’s not taken and I think it perpetuates misogynistic standards. At the same time I would like everyone to remember this a fictional story and these are these are fictional characters, jealousy, Hana finally gets to know Sukuna is her dad!! That’s it for now, if anything else is there please message me and I’ll add it!!

Wc: 2.1k

The layout of your house was confusing for anyone who was visiting for the first time. At first glance, it would seem like the only way in was through the backdoor of the bakery, but what most people didn’t know was that the  main door situated between the bakery and the building to the right opened to a longer pathway which led to the entrance of the house. Not that it mattered, since you rarely invited anyone over to begin with. 

That’s why you didn’t register the doorbell the first time you heard it, years since someone had used the chime you chose half a decade ago. Your head snapped to the door, the ringing becoming incessant after a few vexing minutes..

A frown framed your face and Sukuna’s gaze darted towards the door, pissed that some asshole dared to interrupt his time with you. You looked at Sukuna for a second, murmuring some excuse as you ran down the stairs, quickly opening the door before you got a headache from all the ringing. 

Uraume was standing before you, worry painted across their features as they peeked over your shoulder, frown deepening further,

“Sukuna-sama, there is something urgent you need to attend to right now, it seems as though one of the investors have pulled out of the newest project,”

Sukuna walks down the stairs, hand skimming over the railing as he pushed his hair backwards,

“What the fuck happened now, Uraume?”

The man scowled, standing behind you with a hand on your back, resting the other one on the railing of the door as he looked down on Uraume. 

You felt worry claw up your spine as you watched the two converse about topics that you quite literally didn’t care about, only wanting to sooth the crease that had formed in between Sukunas forehead with your thumb. 

A few minutes passed by while your attention wavered between Uraume and Sukuna, the man’s hand on your back stopping you from leaving when you tried to slip away. You gave in and let yourself indulge in his touch even though you knew better.. 

Sukuna finally shut the door in Uraumes face after a flurry of curses, pushing your back to the cold wood and bending down to rest his head on your shoulder. Your arms wrapped around him reflexively, threading your fingers through his soft pink hair as he groaned. His arms encased your body, effectively caging you in, chest an inch away from brushing against yours,

“...What’s wrong?”

Sukuna didn’t respond, just sighing heavily,trying to bury his head further into your body. You took a peek at him, the tattoos on his face had faded a bit, more blurry around the edges compared to when he had them freshly done out of highschool, a sort of rebellion towards his parents when they refused to accept you. 

You were shocked when he first got them, mouth open as you stared at him for a good ten minutes before he barked at you to stop. You let him hold you a bit tighter that night, tracing the healed outlines with your finger as he leaned into your touch. 

Sukuna turned to look at you when he felt your gaze on him, smirking when you flustered at getting caught,

“Somethings come up, looks like I’ll have to go now. Uraume’s waiting outside,”

His breath tickled the hair on your neck, sending shivers down your spine as he moves his lips closer to your cheek, hesitating,

“What were you going to tell me, pet?”

You feigned innocence, pushing at Sukuna’s broad shoulders as you turned your head away, avoiding the dreaded question,

“Sukuna we should talk later, I need some time to think about everything, it’s just a lot to take in now and I-,”

Sukuna sighed, the sound making you pause as you looked at him, he untangled himself from you, hands itching to hold you again. 

“Got it, sweets. don’t have to worry your pretty little head over it,”

He punctuated his words with a flick to your forehead and you yelped, hands coming to soothe the ache. He smirked at the gesture, hand floating over your head for a second before he patted it once, pushing you out of the way and opening the door.

“See you later, pet.”

He raised a hand, waving, before the door shut close behind him, leaving only the scent of his cologne behind. 

The bakery was unusually packed, couples and families lining every table and filling the shop up with bustling chatter, warm smiles and carefree laughter. Fumiko was helping you out at the cashier, the waiting line reaching the end of the shop,as one by one, the pastries you worked hard on were starting to disappear with each satisfied customer.

The herd of customers had come to a slow stop around midday and combined with the lunch rush  earlier, it was getting far too overwhelming for you to deal with by yourself. Fumiko had even started to send customers away as per your request. 

You were a few minutes late to the pick up time, Aoi told you that her son had come down with a cold and was pulled out of school early. What you didn’t expect, by the time you reached the kindergarden, was Sukuna being surrounded by a dozen single mothers, manicured nails raking over his arms as they batted their lashes up at him. 

Your stomach churned with unease, feeling underdressed compared to them. You were still wearing work clothes, apron dusted with flour and other unknown powders, sweaty from half running to the kindergarten. You clenched your hands at your sides, mind rushing to think about how many women Sukuna had been with since after you. 

Even during college, Sukuna’s popularity had just skyrocketed, rumours about him being violent or cruel did nothing to deter the women that tried to hang off of his arms, no matter how many times he said he was uninterested. 

The dark feeling just multiplied in your gut as you saw Sukuna politely push them away, heart beating uncomfortably fast as you tried to gouge out every reaction from his face. 

Why wasn’t he pushing these women away, was he really going to entertain them after kissing you like that just a few hours ago? 

Your skin pricked with goose flesh, stuck in daze as you watched the scene unfold in front of you. Only snapping out when you heard a man calling out your name, 

“Ah it’s good to see you again!”

You turned your head around and he grasped your wrist in his, curling his fingers around the skin and making you want to pull him off.He was one of Hana’s friends' fathers, another single parent like you. His wife had passed away in childbirth and sometimes you would look after his daughter when he came home late after work.

He had found out about your situation when he trespassed your home to get his daughter one evening, noticing the lack of photos of a husband in your living room and questioning you about it until you eventually came clean and he promised to keep it a secret. You never trusted him though, always walking on eggshells for the slight chance he used the information against you. 

A practiced smile came over your features as you greeted him, he was getting far too comfortable with you, calling out your name like that in public and touching you without your consent. People could misunderstand this and you did not want Hana to be hearing things from her classmates or their mothers, god knows the last thing you need on your hand is rumours about you being promiscuous. 

“It’s good to see you too Mr.Takumi,”

You pulled your wrist back, cradling it behind your back as you tried to not let your displeasure show. 

It was then when the bell rang and the kids came running out, the teachers behind them chiding them not to run lest they fall.

Hana saw you and her face lit up, a similar smile dancing on your features as you crouched to catch her in your arms. Her tiny arms wrapped around your neck as she giggled into your neck,

“Mumma! You came!”

You smiled, getting back up as you patted her back. It wasn’t often that you came up to pick up Hana, only when the goods ran out early, which was rare or on special occasions- like birthdays or holidays or the one day you take off every year to go explore places with her.

Takumi had his daughter in his arms too, the little girls talking together as they leaned forward for a hug while still being in their parents’ arms. You leaned forward, shoulders brushing against Takumis as you held the same tight lipped smile. 

That’s when you felt Hana being pulled out of your grasp and you gasped, Sukuna was standing next to you, balancing Hana on one arm as the other wrapped around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him.

He had been watching ever since he heard your name being called, pushing away from the crowd of women as he strided over to you. Takumi sputtered for a second as he saw Sukuna, the six foot man was a good head taller than Takumi and was currently glaring at him, looking down at him through his nose. 

Sukuna bent down to nose your cheek, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips as heat rose up your cheeks at the action, eyes widening as you stared back at him. The man just smirked before turning his attention back to Takumi,

“Hope you don’t mind me cutting the conversation short, been a while since my wife got off of work early ,”

The shorter male fumbled over his words and Sukuna held in his grin as he waved goodbye, glancing back with amusement glinting in his eye. 

Hana looked at Sukuna and then at you, a suspicious expression on her face as she furrowed her eyebrows and pointed at Sukuna,

“Mumma, is the mean mister your boyfriend?”

You stopped on the sidewalk, turning to look at Hana in her fathers arms as you took her in yours, letting Sukuna hold her bag. 

Sukuna felt uncomfortably warm as he awaited your answer, huge body almost shaking in anticipation. His eyes trailed down to yours and held eye contact for a while before you brushed a stray hair from Hana’s forehead,

“Hana… why don’t we go home and have a talk hmm baby?”

Hana just nodded, ever the understanding child when it came to you, lying her head down on your shoulder as she hummed. 

Sukuna on the other hand looked like someone had just informed him that he had to spend thirty more days in the burning pits of hell while being forced to clean Satan's shit at the same time. He quickly plastered on a fake expression, hiding his true feelings once again.

“So how did it go?”

Sukuna was once again sitting at your dining table, this time playing with the utensils as he stared at Hana sitting at her own table and patiently waiting for her food. 

“How did what go?”

He turned his attention to you, brow cocking up in question as he looked confused. You stopped plating the food and made eye contact with him again.

“Your work? Uraume said something went wrong?”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, looking like a petulant child in the comfort of your own home. 

“Got that dealt with as soon as I could to see the kid again,”

Hana perked up at the mention of a kid, eyes gleaming in excitement as you finally put down the plates in front of Sukuna and Hana, dusting off your hands as they held the same hungry expression,

“Mister you have a kid? How old are they? Where are they? Are they a boy or girl?”

Hana’s endless curiosity had stopped phasing you long ago, you ruffled her soft pink hair with hand, pinching her cheek as you sat down in the dining table,

“Baby, mumma and mister have something to tell you before you eat your food okay?”

Sukuna glanced at you, then back down at your trembling hand under the table. He reached out, enveloping your own hand in his as he squeezed softly, calming you down with his warmth as you let out a shaky sigh.

Hana sensed your anxiety and immediately ditched her food, running up next to you and climbing into your lap with a scared expression,

“Hana, this is your father,”

Previous Current Next

Taglist: @lady-of-blossoms @shokosbunny @after-laughter-come-tears @glads-stuff @acidrefiux @linny-bloggs @dahliadaenerys @gojotech @emi311 @poopooindamouf @sadrna @domainofmarie @sukubusss @nousija @pjofics @katsukiseyebrows @the-reas0n-is-y0u @krispywhisperswhispers @pillkits @rier @needsleep3000 @tangsakura @raquel12 @not-aya @melancholycries @desprrssooo-espresssooooo @tojisbabymommasblog @thebumbqueen @melancholycries @totallygyomeiswife @kiyotosbae21 @bwlol7 @ratedrrrr @ihrtbin @kunascutie @periwinkle07sblog @getoxo @dilfkentolover @levifiance @tangsakura @gradmacoco @gojoscumsluttt @your-mum3000 @averyjadedmerald @anyaswlrd @rcveriees @thenightperson @yoriichiiloveu @charlie-xo

[lia-linny]

summary: Chan and his friends make a bet that Chan has to break through the hard shell of the dismissive skater

words: 3.2k

genre: fluff, highschool au,

In the far corner of the vast Cafeteria, Chan sat at his usual table, surrounded by the familiar symphony of youthful chaos, laughter, chatter, the clatter of trays, and the occasional outburst from an overly enthusiastic conversation. Yet, despite the lively atmosphere, his appetite waned, his focus drifting from the meal before him.

Then, his gaze landed on Yn. She sat apart from the others, her posture languid, one leg tucked beneath her while the other draped over the seat beside her. A notebook lay open before her, and though her pen moved lazily across the page, Chan doubted she was writing anything of significance. A half-empty energy drink rested at her side, and through the thick veil of her headphones, he could faintly hear the aggressive pulse of music, a fitting accompaniment to the impenetrable aura she exuded.

"Tell me, does she even talk to anyone?" Jeongin mused, as he noticed his gaze, leaning back in his chair, arms folded. Felix shrugged.

"Not really. Most people gave up trying a long time ago. Yn isn’t exactly… the sociable type." Jisung smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"That sounds like a challenge. Imagine if one of us actually managed to crack her." The table erupted in laughter except for Chan, whose gaze lingered on Yn.

"You mean one of us should date her?" he asked, his voice light, though curiosity laced his words.

"Not even that," Jisung replied, waving a hand dismissively.

"Just get her to open up. Make her let you in. And then? Boom. You win." He punctuated his words with a dramatic flourish, raising his brows as if daring them to take the bait.

"But let’s be real, I bet no one here could do it." Changbin scoffed. "She doesn’t talk to, let alone trust anyone." Chan leaned back, considering. He had won many bets before, sports, academics, even ridiculous dares like seeing who could push a teacher’s patience the furthest. It had always been easy. Predictable. But this? This was different.

"And what does the winner get?" he asked at last. Jeongin’s grin widened. "The respect of all of us. And free meals for a week. We’ll cover it." Jisung laughed.

"Let’s be honest, bro. You’d lose anyway." Chan arched a brow.

"Oh? And why’s that?"

"Because Yn wouldn’t fall for your usual charm tactics," Seungmin chimed in, smirking. "She’s not a fan of guys like us." That was it. The moment there was no turning back. Chan thrived on competition, on proving people wrong. There was something in him some unrelenting need to win, to rise to any challenge thrown his way, to profe himself.

"You’ll see," he said, leaning forward with a confident grin. "Give me six weeks." The boys erupted into cheers, clinking their drinks together in mock celebration. But as Chan brought his cup to his lips, his eyes once again sought out Yn. She remained in the corner, untouched by the world around her, lost in whatever thoughts occupied her mind. And deep within him, something stirred a quiet warning. This bet wasn’t right, chan new it but wanted to do it anyways.

This wasn’t going to be a simple game. And it had nothing to do with how distant she seemed.

"That’s just childish," Seungmin sighed, burying his face in his hands.

"When are you finally going to grow up?"

"Ever since you started dating that nerdy girl, you think you’re the wisest among us," Jeongin teased, nudging him playfully with an elbow. "Hate to break it to you, but it doesn’t make you any smarter, dummie."

Seungmin rolled his eyes. "Well, at least I don’t need tutoring."

"Hey, tutoring isn’t that bad. Nothing to be ashamed of," Jeongin shot back defensively.

"That’s because you are absolutly in love with your tutor, Inie," Changbin laughed, shaking his head.

~☆~

Chan was a strategist. He never entered a challenge unprepared. And so, before making a move, he studied Yn. Not in an unsettling, creepy way, but with the precision of someone determined to understand. He observed the details, the little patterns that made up her world.

It didn’t take long for him to map out her routine: She rarely spoke in class, but when she did, it was laced with sharp sarcasm. During breaks, she was never without her headphones music always loud, always aggressive. She didn’t belong to a fixed group, though sometimes she could be spotted with a few other skaters. Conversations? Minimal. Whether with teachers or classmates, she kept to herself. After school, she vanished with her skateboard, heading straight for the skate park.

Chan quickly realized that his usual tactics charming smiles, effortless small talk, well-placed compliments wouldn’t work here. Yn wasn’t like the others. She was guarded, sharp-edged, immune to the easy charisma that had always worked in his favor. If he wanted to win this challenge, he needed a different approach.

So Chan appeared at the skate park, leaning casually against the fence as though he were simply passing by, watching the skaters with an air of mild interest. Yn was in the midst of a trick session spinning, jumping, landing with seamless precision. He had to admit, she was good. No, more than good. She moved with the kind of skill that could only come from deep passion.

Grinning, he called out, "Nice move." Yn skidded to a stop, brushing a strand of hair from her face as she turned toward him, one brow arched in clear suspicion. She was undoubtedly wondering what he was doing here someone more commonly seen on the football field, in the music room, or surrounded by his (as she so fondly called them) macho friends. The skate park was not his territory. And she knew it.

"Thanks," she said flatly, then added, "Now fuck off." Chan blinked. Well. That was direct.

"Wow," he mused, crossing his arms. "Is that how you greet new people here?" Yn gave him a once-over before slowly pulling out one earbud.

"New people? No. Just people who are clearly after something." Clever. Perceptive. He liked that.

"I'm not trying to suck up," he countered, his grin unfazed. "I'm admiring." She rolled her eyes.

"Watch it, admirer. I'm not in the mood for company." And with that, she shoved her headphones back in, kicked off on her board, and disappeared into the park. Chan stood there for a moment, watching her go before letting out a quiet laugh. This is going to be harder than he thought. But giving up? That wasn’t in his nature. If anything, the challenge only intrigued him more.

The Long Game His first attempt had been an undeniable failure. But instead of retreating, Chan adjusted his strategy. No more direct approaches. No obvious staring. No ‘admiration.’ Instead, he simply made himself present. At the skate park. In the cafeteria. Leaning against the lockers outside her classroom. Always there, but never in a way that seemed intentional. Never enough to be intrusive just visible. And yet, despite all this, it took an entire week before Yn acknowledged him again.

~☆~

The first real interaction was late in the afternoon, the skate park nearly deserted, bathed in the fading golden light of the sun. Yn was practicing a new trick, but it wasn’t going well. Again and again, she landed wrong too far forward, off balance, too much force. Each failed attempt was met with a quiet curse, her frustration tightening like a coil inside her.

From a bench nearby, Chan watched. He pretended to be occupied with his phone, but his attention was on her, on the way she refused to give up, on the determination in her every movement. He admired that. After the tenth failed attempt, she let out a sharp, irritated noise and kicked her board against the ramp before dropping onto the ground, shoulders slumped in exhaustion and annoyance.

Before he could think twice, Chan was on his feet, walking toward her.

"Statistically speaking, your failure rate is at about 90%," he remarked, his voice light with amusement. "Thinking of giving up?" Yn turned her head toward him, her eyes narrowing. It was clear from her expression that she still didn’t know what to make of him. Or maybe she simply didn’t like him.

"What are you doing here again?" she asked, suspicion lacing her words.

Unbothered, Chan dropped onto the ground beside her. "Watching. Learning from the best." She grimaced.

"If you want to learn anything about skating, find an actual pro. I’m a disaster right now." The last sentence came out quieter, muttered under her breath, filled with something more than just frustration. Chan leaned back on his hands, tilting his head toward the sky as if contemplating something important.

"Maybe you’re pushing yourself too hard," he mused. "Sometimes you have to let go to make it work." Yn shot him a skeptical look.

"And what do you know about skating?"

"Nothing," he admitted with an easy grin. "but I do know a thing or two about pressure. And sometimes, what helps is a distraction."

She raised an eyebrow, her tone drenched in sarcasm. "Oh, and let me guess you’re here to help me distract myself?"

Chan shrugged. "I could tell you a terrible joke. Or we could bet on whether you land your next attempt." Yn sighed, shaking her head, but something in her expression shifted. Amusement, maybe. Interest.

"And if I make it?"

Chan’s grin widened. "Then I’ll buy you a Coke. And if you don’t make it… I’ll still buy you a Coke. Because I’m nice."

A small, reluctant laugh escaped her, and she shook her head again. "You’re ridiculously persistent, you know that?"

He leaned in slightly. "You should probably get used to it." And that was the moment something changed. It was subtle just a crack in the walls she had built so carefully around herself but Chan noticed it.

Yn exhaled, got to her feet, picked up her board. With one last glance in his direction, she pushed off. And this time, this time she landed the trick perfectly.

Something shifted after that moment at the skate park. Yn was still wary, still suspicious of his presence, but she allowed it now. She didn’t know why he was suddenly everywhere, why he kept turning up at the skate park, in the cafeteria, outside her classrooms but she was getting used to it. And that, more than anything, annoyed her.

The so-called "coincidences" increased. He brought her an iced coffee because he had "accidentally" discovered her favorite summer drink. He started doing his homework at the skate park because it was "more relaxing" there. When she ignored him, he didn’t push he just stayed. Silent, but present.

Yn hated how easy it was to fall into the rhythm of his presence. She wanted him to disappear, to stop showing up, to leave her to her quiet, detached existence.

And yet, at the same time, she fought the irrational urge to talk to him first. To sit next to him. To look for him. She didn’t know which possibility scared her more that he would eventually give up. Or that he wouldn’t.

~☆~

An Evening at the Skate Park it was empty, bathed in the dim glow of the streetlights. Yn had come here to practice in peace, to lose herself in the rhythm of wheels against concrete, but fate or rather, he had other plans. She sighed as she spotted Chan making his way toward her, hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets, a familiar grin on his face.

"Are you stalking me?" she asked dryly.

He only grinned wider. "Pure coincidence."

"Sure." Instead of leaving, he made himself comfortable, sitting on the edge of the ramp as if he belonged there.

"So, what’s on the agenda today? Kickflip? 360?"

She eyed him, a challenge sparking in her gaze. "How about you get on the board? Or are you too scared?"

Chan chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "I have no interest in breaking my bones, thanks." The laugh deepened, and for the first time, yn noticed the dimples in his cheeks. It was distracting. Too distracting. She forced herself to look away, shaking off the thought.

"Coward." And before she could second-guess herself, she grabbed his wrist, yanking him up and shoving her board into his hands. "Come on, Mr. Perfect. Let’s see what you’ve got."

Chan stared at the board as if it were a death sentence. "This is not going to end well."

"Then you and my first trick attempt have something in common." She smirked as he reluctantly stepped onto the board, his movements stiff, awkward. He wobbled, arms flailing in a desperate attempt to keep his balance. And then, just as expected he toppled over, landing flat on the ground.

Yn let out a snort. "Oh my god. That was pathetic."

Chan raised an eyebrow, rubbing his elbow with a wince. "I’m a man of many talents. Skating just isn’t one of them." Still laughing, she sat down next to him. For a moment, the world felt lighter, easier. She didn’t even mind his company. Maybe even liked it. And then she felt something.

Her laughter faded when she caught the way he was looking at her not with amusement, not with his usual teasing grin, but with something else. Something softer. It made her pulse stutter.

Her voice was quieter when she asked, "Why are you doing this?"

Chan didn’t look away. He simply shrugged, his expression unreadable. "Maybe I just find you interesting."

Yn swallowed. She wasn’t sure what unnerved her more the way his words sent a flicker of warmth through her, or the realization that this… this was dangerous. She was standing on thin ice. And she wasn’t sure if she wanted to step away or let herself fall. But her walls were torn down by chan step by step.

~☆~

Something Had Changed The teasing remained. The playful banter, the lighthearted jabs, the sarcastic remarks they were all still there. But now, there were glances. Quiet moments stretched between them, filled with something unspoken. They stood closer than necessary, their hands sometimes brushing, their laughter lingering longer than before.

Chan didn’t know when exactly it happened when the bet stopped being a game and started feeling like something else entirely. But as the days passed, a dull weight settled in his chest, a guilt that grew heavier with every smile she gave him. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have made a bet knowing that if he won, it would break her trust? That it would shatter her in ways she might never recover from?

But stopping wasn’t an option. Because at some point, Chan had stopped playing to win he just wanted her. So he searched for reasons to be near her. Excuses to see her.

He paid attention to things he never would have noticed before. He listened to her favorite bands, learned the songs that played in her headphones. He memorized the small details the way she loved the rain but hated thunderstorms, the way she bit her lip when she was deep in thought.

He knew that skating wasn’t just a hobby for her it was where she thought, where she made sense of the world. And he knew she didn’t let people in, not easily. Because letting someone in meant trusting them. And trusting them meant they had the power to leave. To betray her.

She had spent so long keeping people at a distance. Pushing them away before they had the chance to hurt her. But with Chan… it was different. And she hated that it was different. Because he wasn’t like the others at school the ones who judged her for her grades, her attitude, the way she never quite fit into the mold they wanted her to.

Chan was just there. He never asked for anything. Never demanded explanations or forced her to be anything other than herself. And slowly, against her better judgment, she let him in.

And considering all this made chan feel even more guilty.

~☆~

A Line He Couldn’t Cross The city stretched out before them, a sea of flickering lights against the darkness. It was quiet up here, away from the noise of the streets, the expectations of school, the weight of everything else.

Yn leaned back against the wall, her skateboard resting beside her, fingers idly tracing the edges of the grip tape. Chan sat next to her, arms draped over his knees, eyes fixed on the distant headlights weaving through the roads below.

And then out of nowhere she spoke. "So, what's your deal?"

Chan turned his head slightly, brows furrowing. "My deal?"

Yn exhaled, rolling her eyes as if it were obvious. "You're the perfect popular student. Everyone loves you and your weird friends. So why are you spending your time with me?"

His heart skipped. This was it. The moment he should come clean. He could still hear Jisung’s voice in his head, the laughter of his friends as they toasted to his ridiculous bet. Six weeks. The time limit was still ticking, and yet, here he was, completely lost in her. But instead of the ugly truth, Chan gave her the only other truth that mattered. He let out a quiet chuckle, but when he spoke again, his voice was softer, more serious.

"Maybe I like the way you see things." Yn studied him carefully, eyes searching for something probably the lie she assumed was hiding beneath his words. But she didn’t push. Instead, she turned her gaze back to the skyline, as if the answer didn’t matter.

A few beats of silence passed before he spoke again. "And you?" he asked, tilting his head. "Why are you letting me stay?"

She glanced at him, just for a second, then shrugged. "Maybe I just find you interesting." Her voice was casual, but there was something hesitant underneath. "It’s a nice change to chill with you. Better than always being alone."

Chan grinned, but the tightness in his chest only grew. Because it hit him then this was the exact same thing he had said to his friends at the start. That he found her "interesting" as if she was a thing he could study. That she was a challenge. He felt sick because now, he hated himself for ever having thought that way. For ever agreeing to something that would end with her getting hurt. But the truth? The whole truth? He wasn't ready to tell her that because he knew, if he told her she would leave and he wasn’t ready. Not yet.

~☆~

The thing between YN and Chan had long since become more than just a casual friendship based on a bet. They spent nearly every free moment together at night on rooftops, during skate sessions, in hidden corners of the city.

But while YN was finally beginning to trust someone, Chan was becoming increasingly aware that his feelings had never been part of the plan. They were growing stronger, more real. Yet the truth lingered in the background, and secrets never stayed hidden for long.

One afternoon after school, Chan was sitting with his friends when Jeongin suddenly grinned. "So, how’s it going with the skater rebel? Have you already won the bet, or is it still in progress?"

Chan froze. He wanted to protest, to say something anything but then he saw her. YN stood just a few feet away, her skateboard wheels still against the asphalt. She had heard everything. Her expression? A mix of disappointment and anger.

"What bet?" she asked, her voice dangerously calm. Chan opened his mouth, but no words came out. YN let out a dry laugh, shook her head, and turned away. "You know what? Just forget it."

"Wait, YN!" Chan jumped up, reaching for her wrist, but she pulled away.

"Just leave me alone, Chan." And then she walked away. This time, he didn’t know if she would come back. His friends? They laughed. Thought nothing of it.

His friends faded into the background, drowned out by the pounding in his chest. his mind scrambling for a way to fix what had just happened but there was none. The damage was already done.

"It was just a game, bro." But for Chan? It had never been just a game. Not anymore. Felix looked at him with concern the only one who wasn’t laughing.

"Hyung...?" Cautiously, the younger boy placed a hand on Chan’s shoulder. But Chan jumped to his feet and ran. Away from his friends. Away from himself. Away from the cruel things he had done not because anyone had forced him to, but simply because he had found them amusing.

He lost his appetite. He couldn’t focus in class. The places they used to go the skatepark, the rooftop felt wrong without her. It was like one of those teenage movies, the kind where the two main characters break up and are left reeling from heartbreak while melancholic music plays in the background.

The Truth, Too Late Yn was already turning. Her walls bult up higher than ever before. The music he used to listen to in the evenings sounded empty now. Every song reminded him of her her voice, her laughter, the way she had slowly started to trust him. And trust was something that, once broken, couldn’t be easily repaired. But the worst part? He had fallen in love with her. And he had lost her because of his own stupidity.

~☆~

Chan knew that an apology wouldn’t be enough. Words meant nothing if they weren’t backed by actions. She had had enough of empty promises. But Chan refused to give up. He tried everything to reach YN messages, calls, even waiting outside her house. But she ignored him, refusing to see him, let alone speak to him. And Chan couldn’t even blame her. Still, he had to talk to her. He had to prove how much she meant to him.

So, he did the only thing left: he showed her. He showed up at the skatepark, despite hating skating. Tried to stand on a board and fell. Again. And again. And again. People laughed. His knees and hands bled. But he didn’t give up. And then, he entered the next skate contest. The one YN had been planning to compete in. Without hesitation, he signed up.

Of course, YN was there. When she heard his name announced, when she saw him step onto the course, she wanted to ignore him. But when she looked into his terrified eyes, when she watched him climb onto a skateboard with trembling legs, she couldn’t help but stop and stare. He was doing this for her. And she knew it.

He pushed off and failed. Spectacularly. One fall after another. But every time, he got back up. And then, in the middle of the crowd, he saw her. She was smiling just a little. But it was enough. Enough to give him the courage to keep going.

After his final attempt, he went straight to her. No words. Just him, breathless, his hands scraped and raw.

"I didn’t do it because of the bet," he said. "Not in the end. I wanted to get to know you. And then I didn’t want to lose you."

"Show me you mean it." And with that one sentence, Chan knew: he had a second chance. But this time, he had to earn it.

Chan had learned that love wasn’t a game. It wasn’t a competition to be won. And it was certainly never a bet. But he also knew one thing: he couldn’t give up. Not when it came to YN. He couldn’t just love her he had to truely stay.

Silence. Chan turned to YN. She looked at him as if she was seeing something new in him. Something real. Slowly, she stepped closer.

"You were not bad out there, Mr. Perfect," she whispered as they inched toward each other.

He grinned. "So… do I get my second chance now?" YN didn’t answer. Instead, she grabbed his shirt, pulled him closer and kissed him. It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t hesitant. It was real. Full of unspoken words, of mistakes they were leaving behind, of possibilities still ahead. When she pulled away, she met his gaze, a challenge in her eyes.

"You’re not completely off the hook. But… that was a good start." Chan let out a quiet laugh, his heart pounding.

"Then let me prove that I’m always going to stay." And this time, YN knew he meant it.

[tonycries]

Yakuza!Sukuna is terrifying—unholy, untouchable, an apex predator in designer suits and ancient ink.

People hear his name and flinch. His enemies fold before he touches them. His men follow orders without a word.

He doesn’t bow.

He doesn’t bend.

And he doesn’t love.

Until you.

And suddenly, he’s obsessed. Feral. Whipped in the most dangerous fucking way imaginable.

⸻

You walked into his world like a pretty little accident waiting to happen, all soft smiles and polite charm, too good for the seedy bar you’d been dragged to, dressed like temptation with just enough ink showing to get under his skin.

He watched you from his booth in the back—red eyes narrowed, rings clicking against his glass, the glint of his gold tooth catching the light as he grinned.

He should’ve looked away.

He didn’t. He couldn’t.

Then your date touched you—too high, too fast—and said something that made your smile freeze.

Sukuna sat up, ready to intervene.

But you didn’t need help.

You punched him. Hard.

One hit, clean, brutal.

Blood everywhere.

Sukuna’s drink hit the table untouched.

His jaw was clenched.

And his cock? Already fucking hard.

⸻

He was on you in seconds—inked, towering, dangerous, all heat and muscle and that devil’s grin that usually made people piss themselves.

But not you.

You just blinked up at him, unimpressed, bored even.

“You hit like a pro, sweetheart. I’m impressed.”

You smirked. “And you’re nosy. What’s it to you?”

“Everything.”

You scoffed. “Bold. You always hit on women after they break noses?”

“Just the ones I’m gonna marry.”

⸻

Three days later, you’re in his bed, straddling him, his hands bruising your hips, both of you breathless and high on lust and pride.

“Mine,” he growled, biting your jaw, cock buried deep, eyes wild and hungry.

You didn’t flinch. You smiled, leaned in slow, licked into his mouth, and whispered,

“No, you’re mine.”

He froze.

Laughed.

Then snapped.

Flipped you fast, hands everywhere, teeth on your throat, voice wrecked and hoarse.

“Yours? Fuck yeah, angel. Yours. Now say it. Say you’re mine.”

You didn’t. Not at first.

You made him earn it.

Made him work for it, cocky and smug, teasing him with that sweet little mouth and that filthy attitude he was addicted to.

Until you broke—clawed at his shoulders, gasped it, “Yours, Kuna.”

Kuna.

He fucking snapped.

Body shaking, breath gone, head buried in your neck as he lost it inside you, moaning like you’d just ended his entire bloodstained existence.

“Say it again,” he demanded, desperate, ruined.

You smirked.

“Yo-”

“You know that’s not what I mean. Say it again brat, fuckin please”

“Kuna - ‘s all f’ you Kuna” You’d slur in the throes of pleasure. Barely able to think straight as he slams into that sweet spot over and over again.

That’s when he swore he’d kill anyone who dared breathe wrong in your direction.

You were his. Forever.

⸻

He never stopped touching you.

Hand on your ass in public. Arm around your waist. Mouth on your neck. Always.

He didn’t care who watched.

Didn’t care who stared.

“Wear whatever you want, baby. I can fight.”

And he did.

⸻

You, sweet and polite with everyone else, terrified rival bosses with your smile.

Once, some idiot flirted with him in front of you.

You didn’t yell. Didn’t curse.

Just smiled.

“Touch him again and I’ll break your wrist. He’s mine.”

Sukuna? Hard. Immediately.

Dragged you out and proved it against his car, voice low, wrecked, “Yours, angel. But don’t forget—you’re mine too.”

You never forgot.

You just loved making him say it again. And again. And again.

XO

🔖

Knee-deep in the passenger seat and you're writing about yakuza!Sukuna, is it casual now? 😼

OH?? MY?? GOD??? COME BACK N GIVE ME A BIG SMOOCH AND THEN KEEP WRITING ABOUT THIS NEOWWWW 😈 Why can I perfectly imagine him as a big bad yakuza though - like the stereotypical ones from anime ahahah.