#he just wanted his son to know he was always loved and that he was proud of him

[beehiveofblorbos]

I think actually the cycle should continue forever

[cakypa120]

Billy is kidnapped often. Nothing serious. The villain just wants to tell his monologue of hatred towards a certain hero. All the villains have noticed how the heroes listen to or discuss Billy Batson, the host of a small radio station. That's why the boy is kidnapped. At least once a week. The villains vividly describe their hatred, some even say a spoiler for future crimes. Billy then tells it vividly the next day and jokingly asks the villains to at least feed him, because of their kidnappings he cannot eat normally.

The villains listen to him!

Lex Luthor brought him a whole steak! The Riddler bought him fries, a burger, and a large Coke!

So Billy, being a good person who loves his job, thanks them for the lunch and repeats their monologue word for word, even overacting a little. (But the villains are delighted by this)

Meanwhile, the League is panicking because they are the reason Captain Marvel's son is constantly being kidnapped! Marvel always looks at them with a disappointed look the next day if Billy is kidnapped. But there is nothing they can do! But they tried! Honestly! Captain stop looking at them like that! They didn't know that talking about Billy would turn out like this!

Flash and Superman feel very guilty. After all, it is their villains who often kidnap the boy. Batman tries not to look disappointed at his villains when he finds out that one of them kidnapped Billy, again.

Billy, meanwhile, made a list of villains who treated him very well. In first place was Captain Cold, in second place was the Riddler and Lex Luthor, and in third place was Scarecrow, to the surprise of Batman and Billy himself.

Yes, Billy showed this list to the superheroes so that they would know who was treating him how. As a result, Flash spilled the beans to Snart, and as everyone knows, villains are the best gossips. The news about this list spread like wildfire.

Now the goal among the villains was to get at least into the top five of this list.

Let's just say that Billy started getting kidnapped much more often.

[dcxdpdabbles]

For The next part of freelance inventor, you should do more parent trapping(if you want, of course) I was just picturing cartoon level schemes trying to get these two to kiss.

On the flipside, what would happen if the two of them had a fight? I can see the kids and Alfred just kind of trying to make Bruce agree how wrong he was.

"Bruce?"

His heart stops at the sound of that voice, and then it speeds up before he can look over his shoulder. Not that he needs to. He already knows who called out to him.

Only one person in the world adds a certain ring to his name when they speak it.

Bruce turns away from his laptop, displaying some spreadsheets of the upcoming term, coming face to face with Danny Fenton's beaming smile. Behind him, the ocean gleams like liquid sapphire, highlighting the brightness and warmth in Danny's aqua-blue eyes.

He once thought Danny wasn't human; surely, no human could have eyes like those. The sunlight bounces off the dark of his hair, swaying in the breeze, and it somehow calls attention to the laughing lines around his eyes and mouth.

He's shirtless, showing off a physique that would fit a swimmer. His black swimming shorts are covered in the NASA symbol, which is such a Danny thing to do that it makes Bruce's heart skip a beat.

It's odd. As one of the wealthiest bachelors in the world, Bruce had always been surrounded by gorgeous people. Usually, women and men flung themselves at him, whispering false claims of eternal love while displaying teasing hints of the bodies. It was a tool they wielded to charm him into doing what they wanted, but none of them could even compare to Danny's looks.

Perhaps it was due to how effortlessly beautiful Danny was. He didn't spend hours and hours on his looks. Bruce had heard people claim the inventor was plain, but he could never see it.

Bruce had always thought he was pretty from the moment Dick wandered to his table. The gentleness with which he spoke to his then nine-year-old son with respect and full attention as he explained his first intention- the portable charger. How could anyone not be memorized by him?

"Danny? What are you doing here?" He asks after realizing he is gawking like a fool.

His friend's eyes crinkle further as he laughs. "On vacation. Jay and Dick told me about this place, and since I had a conference on the island, I thought I would spend my off time at the private huts. What about you?"

Oh, those little rats. This was all a setup. He should have known something was up when they all forced him to accept it.

"The kids bought me a private hut for a weekend." He answers, moving his eyes away from Danny's lips with great effort. "They said it was a gift and a means to follow my doctor's orders."

"Dami told me about that. The doctor said you have been putting too much stress on your heart, and yet, here you are, working on vacation." Danny planted his hands on his hips, shaking his head in mock pity. "I bet you haven't even frolicked through a field of flowers or jumped over waves since you arrived."

Bruce feels a burst of amusement and slight anticipation tickle the bottom of his stomach. "Well, I just don't know how to do any of that."

"Since we're hut neighbors, I could show you how to have fun. You rich people know what that is, right? Fun?" Danny asks, reaching down to grip Bruce's wrist. Where he touches, tringles of flames light up his skin, and Bruce fights to keep the blush off his face. "I suppose you don't. The first lesson must be how to frolic through the ocean waves, and it starts right now!"

"I thought it was a field of flowers?" He laughs, allowing the shorter man to pull him toward the blue water.

"It's a hybrid course, Bruce," Danny laughs, splashing through the first wave until they are waist-deep and spinning around to grin at him. Bruce practically swallows his own tongue as the man shines in the sunlight, with a beaming soft smile that makes him feel like the only man in the world. "Prepare for the best weekend of your life. No kids. No work. Just us, the ocean, and some tasty meals!"

"That sounds like heaven," Bruce tells him, wondering if Danny can tell how soft his eyes have become or the yearning in his voice. He just knows somewhere in Gotham, all his children are high-fiving each other and scheming up another ill-fated attempt to get Bruce with the man of his dreams.

It's not that he's unaware of their goals. But over ten years after he'd known Danny, silently pinning for him, Bruce realized it would never happen. His friend didn't feel attraction like that.

If Bruce had told him how he felt, he would have lost Danny forever. He would rather live with this buckling longing for the rest of his life if it meant he could be gifted with Danny's friendly smiles and presence.

Danny reaches back, cupping his hands to gather water and splashing Bruce with a gleeful "What are you standing around for? Come! Frolic!"

Bruce grins, throwing back some water in a bigger splash as the young man screams, attempting to escape. He follows close behind, trying to drown the other between gasps of laughter. For a brief moment, he allows himself to live a fantasy life where this was a real romantic getaway, not a setup by his less-than-subtle children.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Fine! Be that way! Excuse me for having a fucking opinion!" Danny hisses, swinging around and stomping out of the room. Bruce's chest feels hot with anger; the angry words that had fallen from his mouth taste bitter and satisfying simultaneously. It's a whirlwind of contradicting emotions that he does nothing when the other man slams the door behind him.

He slams his hands over his eyes, willing himself to calm down but it's hard when Danny is the one who set him off. Danny is the only one in the world that made him feel everything like an explosion.

Both the positive and negative emotions.

How did things come to this? The conversation was going well until the two started talking about the Joker. He's always known his friend had a less white and dark point of view regarding the clown, but to actively claim that Batman was a coward for not killing him when he had the chance?

Yes, Danny didn't know Bruce was Batman, so when he tried to explain that the superhero was afraid that if he started taking lives, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop Danny had grown dismissive. It wasn't meant to attack Bruce, but he knows that logically.

But it still felt like the man he was in love with was calling him a coward straight to his face, and Bruce grew defensive. He tends to lash out when he's on the defense, and before long, the two were in a heated debate about vigilantes in general.

Suddenly, Danny was his face, sneering and growling, when Bruce pointed out that Phantom was the small-town hero of Danny's boyhood and someone he felt jealous of. Danny obviously held the hero in high regard to the point it felt like he was in love with him if Danny was inclined to such emotions- he was just if not more dangerous than Batman would ever be.

It went even worse when Bruce spoke his support for the Anti-Eco Acts that were currently being discussed.

A lot of hateful words were spoken in ten minutes, and by the end of it, Bruce couldn't even figure out how it ended, with Danny's eyes watering up with angry tears or his chest heaving with the screaming.

Why did he even say that? Bruce had a lot of issues with the Anit-Eco Acts. They were far too seated in bigotry to be anything but an excuse to hunt a different race.

He regretted his words, though he doubted he could ask Danny for forgiveness soon. That man was known for holding a grudge and giving the cold shoulder when angry.

Bruce would have to grovel later.

The door to his study slams open, and his children crowd the entrance, looking alight and outraged.

"Why did you make Dad cry!?" Jason demands, crossing his arms and looking ready to throw down. The kids started calling Danny Dad a few months ago when Tim accidentally slipped it into a conversation, and Danny thought it was sweet.

They played it off as a joke, but Bruce knew they liked referring to him as Dad. Bruce was Father in formal events, B in casual moments, and when angry with him, the kids simply referred to him as B.

B for Bitch since you act like one, Dick once explained, eyes burning with anger and a smile as sharp as broken glass.

"You better have a good reason, B." Tim hisses, voice low and anger tightly coiled like a snake ready to strike. It's a violent reminder of Danny that Bruce can only place his hand over his eyes again and groan.

"We had a disagreement."

"What did you do?" Damian demands next, tapping his left foot impatiently. He picked that up from Jazz the last time Danny's sister was in town. "Before claiming innocence, just know you're always at fault. Dad can do no wrong."

"Hear, hear," Steph, Duke, and Cass say together, glaring daggers at Bruce.

Great. The kids have unionized against him.

"We had a disagreement on the Anti-Eco Acts." He grits through clutch teeth, trying to get his shimmering anger to calm down. The children are not helping, and his frustration rises slowly at the avalanche of noise his children release.

"How dare you!"

"Those acts are a blatant disregard of human decency!"

"I always knew you were a white privilege asshole but this!?"

"I will stay with Danny for the rest of the month! I can't believe this!"

"Look here, you Father. You will not support those act,s especially at the expense of Dad!"

"You blue-eyed demon."

Bruce puts his head into his hands and screams. Danny returns to talk this over hours later, but Bruce is right.

He has a lot of groveling he needs to do. His kids still lock him out of his room. They have a sleepover with Danny, dragging in their mattress and watching movies late into the night.

He sleeps on the couch, listening to their merry-making with a heavy heart. Aflred refused to let him sleep in a guest room once Dick informed him that Bruce was in the dog house with Danny.

Betrayed in his own home.

The Anti-Ecto Acts are rejected primarily due to Bruce Wayne spearheading their resistance. Danny hugs him when he reads the paper, and all is right with the world. The Kids still don't let him sleep in his own bed, and for a month, Bruce's back hurts from the lumping couch cushions.

Clark tells him jokingly the children would choose Danny in a divorce, so he starts carrying around Kryptonite.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Pretty Purple Bruise

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~500

Warnings: sexual tension

Summary: An unfortunate mishap with a curling iron brings about the best reaction from your boyfriend.

Square Filled: free space (2020) for @cm-kinkbingo

Author’s Note:��any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

You’re running late but you can’t leave the house without curling your hair. You grab the curling iron and wrap your hair around it, counting to ten in your head before releasing it. It always creates a perfect curl whenever you do this, you love how curly hair makes you feel. It makes you feel beautiful and confident, so you rarely leave the house without it.

You grab another section of hair and wrap it around the curling iron. Your phone pings so you turn your head to check out the text you just got when the side of the curling iron brands the side of your neck.

“Motherfucker!” you gasp and drop the iron on the floor. “Son of a bitch!”

You move your hair away from your neck and check the reddening welt in the mirror. Shit, this is going to leave a mark for weeks.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself.

You pick the curling iron up and finish with your hair carefully, unplugging it and leaving it on the counter to cool. You make sure to grab your coffee before leaving the house, and you make your way to work. You’re one of the last ones in the office but the briefing doesn’t start for another ten minutes, so you decide to top off your coffee.

Most of the team is in the briefing room but Derek and Spencer are still at their desks checking emails and getting last-minute stuff down. Spencer looks up and smiles when he sees you, but he finishes the email he’s working on before he can think about joining you.

“Hey, mama, how was your weekend?” Derek asks when he walks into the break room.

“Uneventful. Spencer and I just stayed at his place the whole time. He even taught me how to play chess.” You drop your voice low. “Between you and me, I still don’t get it.”

Derek laughs and he frowns when he spots the welt on your neck.

“Damn, Y/N. Try to hide that mark better, would ya? I don’t need to know what you and Spencer get up to in the bedroom.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” you laugh and shove him away from you. “It’s a burn mark from my curling iron.”

Derek snickers as he leaves the break room, and Spencer walks in seconds later.

“Want to explain why Derek was giving me suggestive eyes when I passed by him right now?”

“He saw the mark on my neck and thought dirty things.”

“Mark?” He sweeps your hair to the side and inspects the red mark. “What happened?”

“Curling iron. It’s okay. It’ll heal.”

Spencer nods and hums in thought. He moves your hair back to the front before smoothing it down.

“It’s a shame.”

“What is?” you ask before taking a sip of coffee.

“My marks are gone. I guess I’ll have to make more to match the pretty purple bruise you got going on here.”

You snort into your coffee, causing it to go up your nose. It’s a good thing the pot was cool when you used it otherwise you would have burned your nose. Spencer smirks and doesn’t offer help as you scramble for some napkins. After blowing your nose several times, you look at Spencer who only winks at you.

Without another word, he turns and leaves the break room, leaving you alone with delicious thoughts of bearing his marks on your neck.

x

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[cybersunnie]

the look of love | collection

RAFE CAMERON accidentally runs into Miss Sugar.

includes ib request / fem!teacher!reader / uncle!rafe / reader goes by "miss sugar" / fluff / dialogue heavy / mildly suggestive / wc 1.9k

Rafe rarely had good days. They were tolerable. Average, but never good. 

Today wasn’t any different. 

The moment he woke up, he had received the worst news he could receive: an investor pulled out of his latest project. Why? Because it was taking too long. Rafe couldn’t exactly argue with him there. Delays had occurred and put them behind schedule. But still, that son of a bitch was a millionaire. He had money to spare.

Whatever. He didn’t need him. That was what he thought until he saw the looks of his remaining investors’ faces when he reassured them to stay confident in his project. It was safe to say they weren’t very convinced. 

Everything was going just as planned. Clearly. 

And now, he loitered in the Kildare Retreat’s parking lot, staring at the beige three-story building before him. It was an apartment complex located just outside The Cut. One of his first projects. The one when people finally started to believe he had what it took to run his dad’s business. He earned their respect. Every smartass that had something to say before became mute in his presence. 

He supposed that was why he always found himself at Kildare Retreat. If he had done it then, he could have done it now, and he desperately needed that reminder.

But it was hard to reflect on anything when someone had music blasting on the third floor. Rafe didn’t know what was playing. An old song, he knew that much. It must be a new tenant. Some inconsiderate, low-life—

The music got louder as a door swung open, and a woman emerged, holding a paint can in each hand. 

Who was this bitch?

Rafe raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. Once he squinted, the woman’s face cleared. Holy shit. He stepped away from his car and dropped his hand. You were the woman, his niece and nephew’s art teacher, Miss Sugar. The last time he saw you was when he picked up the kids, and since then, you have been a fleeting but persistent presence in his mind. 

Whatever insult he had ready to go vanished. 

You could play your music as loud as you wanted to. That was a problem for your neighbors to deal with, anyway. 

You descended the stairs and stopped in front of what he assumed was your car—a sedan he was sure had seen better days. It looked like it was on its last leg. When you popped your trunk open, you glanced in his direction and finally saw him.

Your eyes widened. He waved.

“Hey!” you greeted, your voice higher than usual. You cleared your throat and lugged the paint cans into your car. “You’re Jackson and Josie’s uncle, right? Rafe Cameron?”

Before he could stop himself, he smiled. You remembered.

“That’s me.” Rafe approached you, stopping just a foot away. “Miss Sugar?” 

You grinned, the corners of your eyes wrinkling. “So formal,” you teased. That alone had his cheeks feeling warm. “I’m outside work. Please, just call me Sugar.”

He wondered if that was your real name. It could be a nickname. Either way, it suited you—sweet and addictive. 

“If you insist, Sugar.” 

Your eyes narrowed, and you asked, “So, what are you doing here?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Are you stalking me?”

His blood ran cold. “What? No—”

You held up a hand to stop his ramblings, laughing, “Calm down, I’m joking.”

He scoffed. You were going to give him a heart attack one day. 

Rafe scratched his brow and then eyed the green and blue paint cans. “You gonna do some painting?” he assumed, nodding toward them.

“Yeah. A mural for the school,” you clarified, turning around to shut your trunk, steel hitting steel. “Also, you never answered my question.”

He licked the inside of his cheek. “Right, I’m just visiting,” he answered plainly. When nothing else was said, you gestured for him to elaborate further. You were nosy like Josie. “I designed Kildare Retreats.”

Your brows raised, and your lips parted in surprise. But that all muddled into a look of confusion the longer you stared at him. He watched the frown on your face deepen until your eyes flickered with recognition, a lightbulb appearing over your head.

“Cameron Development,” you said, snapping your fingers. “It’s literally on the entrance sign—I don’t know how I didn’t put that together.”

Amused, he chuckled. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, it’s really nice,” you praised, craning your neck to stare at the apartment building behind you. Rafe wondered if you genuinely liked it or were just being polite. He wouldn’t be surprised if it were the latter. “You guys did a great job.”

“Thank you,” he replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets. 

And for a moment, there was silence. 

The song that blasted from your apartment carried through the parking lot. You were beautiful in the sunlight, your hair fluttering in the wind. Nothing captured his attention like you did. Rafe knew he was staring, but you were staring at him, too. Your gaze roamed his face like a gentle caress, and he swore you could see right through him.

“Do you have time?”

Your voice brought him back to reality. “What?”

“I just, uh, I’d like some help transferring the rest of my things into my car,” you explained, your hands smoothing down your jeans. “If you’re up for it, of course.”

Rafe glanced at his watch. He still had time. “Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

“Great!” you beamed as you motioned him to follow you. “It’ll be quick, I promise.”

After many flights of stairs later, you led him to your apartment. Through the booming music, Rafe heard bed creaks followed by an over-the-top pornographic moan from next door. His lips curled in distaste. No wonder your speaker was on full blast. 

Once you opened your door, sunlight bleeding into the space, he was greeted with a mess. It's not a gross, rotting mess. Just disorganized. Your brain probably looked like this, too. The coffee table in the living room was cluttered with stacks of paper with yellow sticky notes that said ‘STUDENT WORK :)’ slapped on top. Boxes hugged the walls, newspapers were beneath a freshly painted canvas, and paintbrushes were stuffed in a cup near the kitchen sink. 

It was a sight, for sure.

“Sorry ‘bout the mess,” you said over the music, stepping aside to let him in. “I’ve been doing more painting than cleaning.” 

Rafe tried to appear indifferent, but Sarah always told him he was never good at hiding his feelings. He shrugged, “Nah, you’re good.”

Your chin dipped hollowly to your chest, and you kicked a small box out of your way. You must have caught his bluff. Oh, well. At least, he tried. 

He looked around your apartment, his gaze lingering on the framed pictures of what he assumed to be your parents. A heavy feeling weighed on his chest. He forgot what it was like to have parents. But the sound of your grunts caught his attention, and he saw you hunched over and dragging a storage bin toward him.

“Can you carry this, please?” With a huff, you dropped the bin next to his feet. “Just be careful. It’s pretty heavy, so—”

Rafe picked it up with ease. You clamped your mouth shut.

“Never mind,” you said, your eyes falling to his arms, chest rising as you sucked in a breath. “You’re, uh, very strong.”

His lips twitched at your unabashed stare. Though, your gaze was more innocent than anything. A look of admiration as opposed to lust. You eventually turned on your heel and walked into a closet.

“You got any new projects you’re working on?”

Rafe adjusted his hold on the bin. “Yeah,” he answered, “a couple of studios in Figure Eight.”

As he approached the closet, you suddenly poked your head out the doorway and asked, “Figure Eight’s Northside, right?” When he nodded, you disappeared behind the wall again. “I’m still trying to get used to your guys’ lingo.”

Your words replayed in his head. So, you hadn’t lived in Kildare for that long. That explained why you were so friendly with him. You didn’t know his history.

You came out with a rolled-up tarp in your arms, your lips pursed in thought. “What kind of studios?” 

“It’ll be up to the tenant what they wanna do with the space.” Rafe looked you up and down, his head tilting. “Why?”

The smile on your face faded into something less genuine. “I’ve always wanted an art studio,” you said, the music almost drowning out your voice, “but I don’t have the money for it.”

“We can work something out,” he offered, his mouth working faster than his brain. 

You stared at him, doe-eyed. “Really?”

Rafe chuckled, “Of course.”

He saw your gentle eyes harden, analyzing him, searching for a speck of insincerity. You looked at him like everyone else had his whole life—like he was just some fuck up you couldn’t trust. It made him nervous, worried that you were starting to see that, too. But soon enough, you returned to your sweet and unknowing self, smiling. 

“Alright, well, c’mon,” you ushered, striding past him to disconnect your phone from the speaker. 

The music cut off abruptly, and your neighbors were louder than ever. You didn’t seem fazed by it, though. He wondered if this was a daily occurrence for you. 

You stepped outside. “I don’t wanna waste more of your time.”

Once he followed you out, Rafe waited while you locked up your place. His eyes trailed to your neighbor’s door, their moans having turned into screams of ecstasy. Intense and raw and unnecessarily loud. He might as well be in the room with them. 

“I should've put better soundproofing for these apartments,” he mused, his brows pinching together.

When you looked at him, you frowned and tilted your head, “What makes you say that?”

He huffed, a smile creeping on his face at your feigned ignorance. You bumped your shoulder into him as you walked past him, and the brief interaction made him forget about the ache beginning to settle in his arms. 

It didn’t take long for you both to descend the stairs and return to your car. You opened the rear door and plopped the tarp onto the floorboard. He did as he was told and set the storage bin on the backseat, and you buckled it into place.

You clasped your hands, grinning, “Thank you so much for your help.”

“No problem.” 

Rafe could hear the birds, the rustling leaves, the vehicles that drove by, and how the asphalt crunched beneath your shoes when you stepped toward your car to close the door. His mind was quiet around you.

“Oh, about that art studio—” He took out his wallet, retrieved his business card, and handed it to you, “—I’m just a call away.”

You glanced at the card, reading the information before taking it. “Okay, CEO, I see you,” you mumbled teasingly. “Thanks again.”

He smirked, stashing his wallet away in his pocket. “Don’t be a stranger, Sugar,” he said, echoing the words you had exchanged when you first crossed paths. 

Your smile widened, the apples of your cheeks lifting. “I won’t,” you promised, genuine sincerity dancing in your eyes as they dropped to the card for a split second. “Have a nice day, Rafe."

He nodded. “You too.”

And as he walked back to his car, he couldn’t help but get one last look at you. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw that you were already in the driver’s seat, and your gaze met his through the rearview mirror. He immediately looked forward, rubbing the back of his neck.

Rafe had a terrifying realization: he would do anything to keep you around longer.

sunnie speaks! IT'S FINALLY HERE!!! i'm sorry it took so long; i've been busy w school </3 but i love my babies sm so i hoped you guys enjoyed reading!!! let's chat about rafe cameron / teacher!reader

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TAGLIST:  @rluvsr @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @larvalerius @rafesheaven

[capseycartwright]

everything that's heavy, i check it at the door (wouldn't want to do it with anyone else)

Eddie had always found Texas to be suffocating, but in the years since he’d left the state, he’d put that down to the stifling heat – surely, he was remembering the way the soaring temperatures of the summer felt, the oppressive heat and humidity of a Texas July affecting the way he remembered life in his home state to be.

It was February now, though, and Eddie still felt like he couldn’t breathe – so it wasn’t the heat, was it?

eddie goes to texas. he fights for christopher, fights with his parents, and loves buck from afar - mostly in that order.

ao3 link

an offering of my own for friends to fiances february.

Eddie had always found Texas to be suffocating, but in the years since he’d left the state, he’d put that down to the stifling heat – surely, he was remembering the way the soaring temperatures of the summer felt, the oppressive heat and humidity of a Texas July affecting the way he remembered life in his home state to be.

It was February now, though, and Eddie still felt like he couldn’t breathe – so it wasn’t the heat, was it?

Deep down, he’d always known that: the heat had long-since been a convenient excuse for his dislike of Texas, a reason to not return. California had better summers, he’d always said – warm, and dry, and close to the beach, unlike El Paso. It was a convenient excuse he could have kept using for the rest of his life, if not for the fact he found himself back in El Paso again, and not for a few days this time – no, this was a longer-term situation.

Eddie hoped it wasn’t too long-term. He had decided against selling his house in LA, in the end, Buck moving in to help him cover the mortgage, but that meant he was stuck in a month-to-month rental in El Paso, his son still living with Eddie’s parents, and everything just felt –

Suffocating. 

“This feels like old times.”

Eddie blinked up at the shadow that was obscuring his view of the late-evening sun. His sister, Sophia, was standing, hands on hips, her dark hair flowing in the evening breeze as she fixed him with a serious look. “I figured I might as well commit to regressing,” he huffed, not moving from where he was lying on the grass. “I’m already back in El Paso – mom and dad are controlling my life. Hiding in the garden because I don’t want to talk to our parents felt like the natural next move.”

Sophia barely concealed an eye roll at his self-depreciating comment but eased herself onto the grass next to him all the same – impressive, given she was nearly six months pregnant. Eddie would hear it about her back, later, but he didn’t quite have it in him to protest, in that moment. 

“I thought that dinner went surprisingly well,” she said, a serious expression on her face as she looked at Eddie.

“Have you lost your mind?”

Sophia cracked, a cackle escaping her mouth as she shook her head. “No, it was bad,” she agreed. “It feels like we’re teenagers again – you’re seventeen, I’m nineteen, and neither of us can do anything right.” 

Eddie grinned. That had been the best part of growing up, sometimes – Sophia was barely a year older than him, and as much as Eddie had borne the brunt of expectation, being the old boy in the family, Sophia had dealt with her fair share of their mother’s expectations too, Helena Diaz having the perfect vision for her daughters lives, one that Sophia had never adhered to. 

Sophia had left for Oregon when she was eighteen, for college, and came back with a degree in interior design, an East coast husband with a terrible beard, a career of her own, and no plans for children – well, until now. Late, by their mother’s standards, the opposite to Eddie, who’d given her a grandchild years too soon. 

“When you have a baby girl you name after mom, you’ll be in her good books,” Eddie hummed, knowing he earned the punch he got from his older sister. That was sort of his job, really, to wind Sophia up - it was in the younger brother contract. 

“Yeah, that’s going to happen when hell freezes over,” Sophia rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to them, Eddie. I know that they like to peck, and push, and they think their way is the only way, the right way – but it’s not. You’re a damn good parent, regardless of what they believe – you’ve been doing this alone for so long, and I know I’m not exactly a parent yet, but I can’t imagine doing it alone. They should be proud of you, for how you’ve managed - not judgemental.” 

Eddie was quiet, for a second. It was true, that for a few years, he had done it alone – but he hadn’t been alone for a long time now. Buck had been the kind of coparent he never thought he deserved, attentive and present, willing to pitch in for the good, and the bad. It had started with Buck being a fun uncle, sure, but his role in Christopher’s life was so much bigger, so much more, now – he was a co parent to Eddie. 

Eddie wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to express quite how grateful he was to Buck for that. 

read the rest on ao3

[wlwsoccerfics]

Told you not to overdue it (RenéeSlegersXReader)

AN: Here it is, the RenéeXReader fic. Hope you enjoy. Let me know If you want more of the Team moms.

Summary: you thought it was just a normal day at Arsenal but then your next Patient turned out to be your wife.

You just finished taping Lias shoulder when you got the call from one of the Assistent Coaches that someone needed your help on the Trainings Pitch. Cause they have Hurt their ankle.

You fully expected it to be a Player. But instead you were met with your wife sitting on the grass, holding her ankle.

"hi." You Said softly to the Team and then looked at your wife.

"Renée, my love. What happened?" You asked and kneeled down in front of her.

"i was warming up with the Girls and then i slipped and my ankle buckled." She told you. Sighing softly. The Girls were standing close by, watching the two of you. While you checked out your wife's ankle.

"i told you not to overdue it ,love." You kissed her head quickly before putting an ice pack on it.

"i know ,i know!" She answered and blushed a bit.

"it looks like just a sprained ankle. Now we ice it for some minutes and then i will help you up and we see how it goes. But i recommend taking it easy no matter what!" You explained. "Better safe then sorry!" You added on.

After a few minutes of icing the Injury, you wrapped her ankle up with a Bandage and then helped her up.

"it only is a little discomfort left! So guess that's good!" Renée told you. You chuckled softly.

"it is good indeed! But when you get home all you gonna do is stay off that ankle and cuddle with Lio, your three months old son, he was the biggest joy of the two of you. Your Mom was currently watching him.

"next time you have to bring him to practice. We Miss Out Arsenal Baby!" Emily said softly.

"agreed!" Leah answered.

"we promise we bring him with us tomorrow!" You told them. You have given birth to him and went back to work rather quickly. Taking him with you in the Physio room for most of the day.

You grabbed some crutches for your wife just in case so she could finish the practice with the Team. Going back to your office. Filling out some paperwork.

Around two hours later you and Renée were on your way home. Your Mom handed you over Lio when you got home and asked your wife what happened. She was clearly concerned. She even offered to take Lio over night If needed but you told her it was okay.

Renée was lying on the couch. Ankle resting on a pillow. You had Lio in your Arms, nursing him. Your wife was gently stroking your sons little head with one finger.

"i can't believe how perfect he is!" Renée told you.

"just like his mommy!" You stated and smiled at your wife. Your wife blushed.

"No ,he is perfect like his momma!" Your wife replied. Smiling back at you.

It was 20 minutes later when the doorbell rung and you opened it. Chuckling softly when you saw some Girls of the Team standing there with Pizza. It happened alot that the Younger Ones would just Show Up. But usually you would feed them and you would give them Life advice. You basically were Bonus parents to them. Katie, Kyra and Jenna walked inside after you held the door open for them.

"hi Renée, we brought Pizza so you didn't have to cook! Also Katie has to tell you something!" Jenna explained.

"thanks for bringing over food! That's nice. But before we eat let's talk. Is everything okay?" Renée asked. They sit down and you hand them their favorite sodas. Yes you do always have some of those at Home.

"Tell Moms, Katie!" Kyra said half jokingly.

"i uh got hurt a few days ago but didn't tell anyone and it got worse! I don't think i can Play in the next Game!" Katie stated. You look at her.

"what happened? Where are you hurt?" You wanted to know.

"i slipped and fell on my back. I managed to pull through during practice but after i showered today i almost slipped again and the pain going through my Body was just terrible!" She admitted. You sigh softly.

"Katie, why didn't you say something right away? I mean you could have gotten it fixed already." You told her. "Show me exactly where it hurts?" She showed you and you took her to your little Office where you had everything you needed to fix her back. You had her lay down and put everything back in it's place and she immediately felt relief.

After that you all ate the Pizza, while the girls took turns holding Lio, who loved the Girls attention. He was such a smiley little boy. You also watched a movie together. It was too late to drive home though so you let them sleep in the guest bed room. Which basically was a room for the Arsenal girls at this point. You then put Lio to bed before you helped your wife to bed as well.

[hansoleil]

★ ˙ ̟ ─── . “(im)patience”.

— hannie × reader. — 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: smut. — 𝘄. 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2734. — 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: afab reader, brat tamer!hannie, fingering, oral (f. receiving), orgasm denial, inappropriate language. — 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: hi! i'm a little nervous about this.

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔. jeonghan loves testing your patience.

You had already convinced yourself: if "gaslighting" was a person, it would be your boyfriend. Yoon Jeonghan was physically incapable of going a whole day without messing with you. In the words of his closest friends: "his love language is to be a little of a son of a bitch" and yes, you were already aware of this before you became his girlfriend — even worse, this personality trait was what made you fall head over heels for him.

Jeonghan is a contradictory man: his angelic face does a great job hiding his perverse tendencies, it's the perfect combo to make you fall for him and his tricks. The pranks vary in relevance, genre and intention, but Jeonghan manages to throw you off track every time. Things like:

𝟏. Hiding your phone charger and arguing with you because, according to him: "you never know where you put your stuff";

𝟐. Texting you that he needs to talk about something very serious, disappearing for hours and then saying something along the lines of "I don't even remember what it was" when you finally see him in person;

𝟑. Pretending to forget important dates just to see the look of desperation on your face (but he always comes up with a surprise in the end — at least).

It's difficult for you to list the amount of times your boyfriend tried to drive you crazy. It was the perfect combination: Jeonghan seemed to take an immense pleasure in seeing you angry and you got annoyed every single time, no exceptions.

For Jeonghan, however, it's hard to contain himself. You look so hot when you're mad at him, he just can't help it. He genuinely feels more in love with you whenever you look like you're about to jump him. Seeing you all pouty, full of anger makes him want to swallow you whole. That aside, he'd rather not even think about how his cock throbs inside his pants every time you yell at him. And, hell, Jeonghan's no fool. He knows very well that you're only playing his games because you also get aroused whenever there's something going on between you two.

── ★ ˙ ̟ ──────── . ♡

Don't get it wrong, every time you woke up, you would spend the whole day waiting for the moment when Yoon Jeonghan would decide to destroy your patience, but apparently that infamous moment had come too soon.

Your body woke up before your mind could, going through various levels of unconsciousness and consciousness, you felt large hands squeezing your thighs and a warm breath on the back of your neck, taking a few seconds to remember who would be the only possible owner of those touches.

"Hannie?", you whisper sluggishly. Not even bothering to open your eyes or move your body.

"Hi, love. Took you long enough to wake up, huh?", the grip on your legs was still there, slowly moving his hands to your inner thighs.

"I want to sleep more...", you whined. You had worked until late the day before, your body still heavy with fatigue.

"Then sleep, princess. I'll play with this pussy just a little, yeah? We almost don't see each other these days, I miss you.", he snuggled more into your body as he spoke. The pout in his voice could be predicted, his tone was very telling.

You didn't even bother answering, just readjusted yourself on the bed, laying supine and opening your legs to Jeonghan. This was the green light for him to do whatever he wanted with you. His face lit up in a smile seeing you give up yourself so easily, in his wicked little brain it was like your body became his property in these moments — he would never say this out loud though.

Jeonghan didn't waste any time, leaving languid kisses down your neck and collarbones as he teased your nipples through the flimsy fabric of your pajamas. His skilled fingers played with the sensitive buds just the way you liked it, the man was also making sure to glance at your expressions — observing your reactions to each move.

"Hannie, you didn't ask me to play with them... it's taking too long! You know I can't sleep like this.", now it was your turn to whine. You just wanted to cum and come back to sleep, not really wanting to deal with Jeonghan's antics.

"But I need to get you wet for me, love. Isn't it better when you're all desperate for it, princess?, he said, nuzzling his nose on your jawline. "Let me give them attention just a bit, yeah?", Jeonghan pecked your cheek lovingly, as if he was asking for the sweetest thing in the world.

He lifted your pajamas' shirt, rolling up the fabric until it was stuck at your collarbones — freeing your breasts from it. Kisses were trailed down your belly button, but they went up before you could think he changed his mind. He massaged them carefully, eyes attached to yours, squeezing them with a little more intensity just to watch your expressions contort.

Jeonghan went down slowly, opening his mouth to finally capture one of your boobs inside it, but never stopped massaging the other one. He was sucking at them passionately, grunting against your skin. Alternating between the two buds, he also slightly bit the skin, tracing them with his tongue right after to soothe the pain.

Hannie was a dedicated lover, he knew very well that if he did it just right you would start begging for him to make you cum very soon. And it wasn't a lie — you felt an ache between your legs, the fabric of panties almost turning transparent. One of your hands tangled onto his hair, pressing his face against your skin.

"Jeonghan, please!", you mumbled annoyed. The short amount of patience you had already started to evaporate from your brain.

"You're so stubborn, _____.", his tone as serious as his face. "Alright. If you want it to be like this...", every detail of his oratory sends your body into alert mode. It wasn't characteristic of Jeonghan to comply with anything so easily, something was definitely wrong.

His body went even more downwards, eyes never leaving your. His expression was still serious, but knowing him for so long, you knew that the glint behind his eyes was not a synonym to something good.

Jeonghan kissed the inner part of your thighs, leaving one or two bites on the immaculate skin. His hands trailed up to your waist and pulled your body to him. His face got closer to your core and he nuzzled your clit with the tip of his nose. Greedy, he also gave you the touch of his tongue, still playing on top of the fabric. You sighed, pushing your hips in his direction, wanting more of his mouth on you.

"Behave.", it was harsh, clearly a command. Jeonghan used his hands to press your hips to the mattress, keeping you still. He suckled on your clit with need, as if the pieces of clothing were not in the way.

"Hannie, do it properly!", you whimpered, sounding as needy as you could, trying to earn his compassion. Your fingers even tugged on his hair, showing how desperate you felt.

It all happened in a swift, when you were able to notice, Jeonghan had already captured your wrist above your head using one of his hands and the other as anchored to your jawline. His body was warm pressed against yours, you felt his long hair tickling your face.

"So fucking demanding, yeah?", he clicked his tongue in disapproval. The pressure on your jaw got stronger, squeezing your cheeks until you pouted. "I thought you gave me permission to play with you however I want. Why are you bitching now? Hm?", he shook your face demanding an answer he knew very well was not gonna get.

And your "answer" happened to be different from what he was expecting: your legs pressing against each other, trying to pleasure the sticky place between them. Jeonghan, being one to never turn a blind eye on things like these, made sure to watch every movement.

"You're too busy acting like a needy little bitch to even bother listening to me... isn't that right, love?", your eyes met again. Jeonghan throbbed inside his pants seeing such a dazed look in your face, he always got you so weak with little to no effort. "Am I right, slut? Tell me.", he tapped your cheek a few times, still instigating you to talk.

"Hannie... don't talk like that!", your voice almost imperceptible. You felt your face burning, legs squirming even more.

"Why not, love?", the tone was cocky, clearly mocking you. Jeonghan used the weight of his own legs to make you open up more. His other hand reaches for the hem of your pajamas' pants, touching you directly. "Your little pussy likes it when I talk like that, princess. So wet for me, yeah?", his long fingers teasing the soaked folds, playing with the oozing liquid.

Hannie pushed his middle finger inside, it was just to irritate — he knew only one was not enough to satisfy you. Feeling how warm you were, his thrusts were languid. Your walls tightening around him so good he couldn't help fantasizing himself inside you.

"So damn tight. Wish I could fuck this pussy forever.", he rubbed his nose against yours, fingering you nonstop. Not for his praiseworthy self-control, Jeonghan swears he would've had already fucked you until one of you fainted.

"More, Hannie... I need more, please.", your begging is almost inaudible, he only was able to listen because of how close he was to you.

"One more, love? What a greedy little pussy. Think I'm spoiling you too much.", the raspy voice right beside your ear was almost enough to make you come undone. You felt your body burn, skin prickly in anticipation.

Jeonghan slided one more finger inside, curving his hand to also stimulate your clit with the heel of his hand. He arched his fingers upwards, having all your weak spots tattooed on his mind. The movement grew faster, the thought of having you all disheveled consuming his head.

Maybe it was the fact that you had just woken up, maybe it was all the teasing or maybe it was a mix of those two things, but you felt like you were almost losing your mind — the taste of the pleasure numbing your senses. Eyes closed, moans turning into whimpers, breath shaking. So close... your little pussy was squeezing him mercilessly. The wet sounds and your own voice were everything you could hear. Your movements were constrained, but you tried your best to fuck yourself on your boyfriend's fingers.

Your moans halted, eyebrows knitted tightly as your mouth turned into a perfect "O". And that's when you felt empty. No warnings. Out of the blue. Core still pulsing desperately, a frustrating ache between your legs due to the orgasm that was ripped from your fingers. A very pleased Jeonghan was not what you were expecting to see when you opened your eyes. Tasting your arousal, he was sucking on his fingers with delight. Eyes closed, mouth emitting a series of "hmmm's" — as if he was savoring something delicious.

"Jeonghan! Son of a bitch!", you snapped, moving in exasperation under his body. Your boyfriend shot his eyes open, as if he was surprised with the change in your behavior. His fingers left his mouth rapidly as he made what he could to hold you still.

"Hey! Calm down! What's wrong?", he chuckled lowly, not able to contain himself. His face morphing into an angelic expression, like he wasn't aware of what he had just done.

"You know damn well what's wrong, you jerk. What the hell is wrong with you?", aggravated, you tried your best to slap him. But he was faster, holding you by the wrists again.

"I swear I don't get it, love. I didn't do anything wro- ah! You did not come, my love?", his surprised face was almost convincing, but you were too smart. "I didn't mean it, my love. I can even promise! I thought you were done and was just tasting you, baby.", a born actor, Yoon Jeonghan.

"Get off me, Jeonghan.", you were no idiot. After almost three years dating this man, you could read him like a book.

"I'm being honest, baby. Can you forgive me? Please?", he whined, knowing it was light work to soften your heart. Jeonghan placed wet kisses on your neck, transforming them into hickeys soon after. His sneaky hand squeezing your ass with need. "Let me redeem myself, love? Promise I can make you cum quickly.", trailing his kisses to the corner of your mouth, he silently asked for permission to kiss you properly. Biting your bottom lip, he wasted no time when it felt like you had given in to him.

The kiss was lascivious, he knew exactly what to do in order to make you weak. Tongue grinding against yours, sucking on your lips sensually. It was wet, drool almost dripping from the corner of your mouth. Dirty, just like Jeonghan liked it.

"Gonna let me eat this pussy out, yeah?", he bit the thin skin of your jaw. "Right, baby? Gonna make a mess all over my mouth?", now the tip of your ear. "Is that it, love?", he halted his movements, finally looking into your eyes.

"Be quick.", you tried to sound unfazed. However it was obvious that he had already won you over. He gave you a big smile, almost jumping to get between your legs again. Jeonghan helped you get rid of your pajamas' pants and panties — throwing them on the bedreoom's floor. Hurriedly, he opened your thighs and positioned his body in the middle. He used his thumbs to stretch your folds, observing your core with close attention.

"Hannie, stop it!", you felt your skin prickle. Jeonghan seemed to have a thing for doing things of the sort just to get you embarrassed.

"I'm just admiring it, love. So fucking pretty.", he caressed it fondly. To get a reaction out of you, he licked from the small oozing hole up to your clit. He also made sure to come back and play with your little cunt, swallowing your arousal. Jeonghan pushed the tip of his tongue inside, licking at your walls with dedication.

Your body was squirming in sensitivity, the shockwaves of your ruined orgasm still burning in your core. He now played with your throbbing clit, flicking his tongue at it. Involuntarily, your hips moved against his mouth, looking for more. Jeonghan didn't try to stop you this time, letting you grind on his face however you wanted.

"Ah! Hannie!", you gasped feeling him sucking on your clit more forcefully. Wanting to break you more, he buried his fingers inside of you again. You became a mess, moans turning desperate and sluggish. The pleasure was almost unbearable now that Jeonghan ate your pussy like he was starving. Your legs were involuntarily trying to close around your boyfriend's head, even with him trying his best to keep them in place.

"Please, Hannie! Please, please...", you didn't even know what you were begging for, head completely empty. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you squeezed the bed sheets between your fingers — looking for something to keep yourself grounded. It was like your waist was moving by itself, trying to get closer to Jeonghan's mouth. You were right at the edge again, seeking the last thing that was going to set yourself free. For some reason, this orgasm felt like it was going to be more intense than the previous.

And that's where Jeonghan left you again. Getting up abruptly, didn't even leave time for you to process what just happened.

Your eyes opened in surprise, you were sure you were close to crying. Fuck, this has to be a lie. Out of all the times he messed with you, this is surely the worst one, you were sure — and this is a big exaggeration, but after having two orgasms completely ruined the time had finally come: Yoon Jeonghan wouldn't last to see another day.

Staring at an empty room and hearing your boyfriend's unhinged laughter, you promised yourself you would do a thousand times worse. But not before (lovingly) slapping the hell out of him.

"Yoon Jeonghan!"

# — © 2025 hansoleil ᯓ★ masterlist.

[maretinelli]

SECOND FAMILY

Lando Norris X fem!reader

Summary: Y/n is going to meet Lando's family, but this causes her to have a crisis because she is afraid of introducing her boyfriend to her own family who don't get along with her.

Words: 5.0K+

Warnings: A little sad because of Y/n's story, family issues, mentions of anxiety and vomiting, but Lando's family is loving towards her, cute, romantic and mentions of veterinary medicine content, walk in the countryside.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling, grammar and slang mistakes that may be in the story.

MASTERLIST

⚠️SENSITIVE CONTENT⚠️

The sweet smell of freshly baked cake filled the silent apartment. Y/n discreetly wiped the dry tears from her face, trying to contain the pain that tightened her chest. The news that her sister Lexie had given her minutes before still echoed in her head, breaking not only her heart, but her sister's as well.

The door opened and Lando's excited voice filled the room.

"Love? Where are you?" He called, leaving his keys on the table.

Y/n took a deep breath and forced a smile on her face, quickly wiping away any trace of tears before he saw her. But she didn't have much time to compose herself, because seconds later, Lando was already in the kitchen, with a few bags in his hand and the most loving smile on his face.

He came closer and left a loving kiss on her cheek.

"What's wrong? Why that smile?" Y/n asked, chuckling softly as she grabbed the oven mitts to take the cake out of the oven.

Lando shrugged, tilting his head with a charming smile. "You! I just happened to find you!"

"Idiot..." She rolled her eyes, laughing.

He chuckled before pushing himself off the counter and starting to clear things off the table. "The meetings went great today. And guess what? Tomorrow's one is canceled! So we can go to my parents' house early!"

Y/n flinched slightly upon hearing that. She wanted to meet his family, of course she did. I already knew them through video calls, I talked to his sisters on Instagram. But after what she had just heard, feeling the Norris family's love made her strangely uncomfortable. Not because I didn't like it—quite the opposite—but because I had never received that kind of love before.

And without realizing it, tears streamed down her face again.

Lando continued talking excitedly. "My mom and dad are super excited. She even said she's going to make something special for dinner. And my dad is also looking forward to meeting you in person! They always ask about you on the phone..."

He turned to face her and stopped abruptly when he saw her standing there, clutching the dish towel tightly, staring at the cake with silent tears streaming down her face.

"Hey, hey, love..." Lando crossed the space between them in seconds, gently cupping her face in his hands and wiping away her tears with his thumbs. "What happened? Was it something I did? Do you want to cancel the trip? Okay, we can wait-"

"No!" Y/n quickly interrupted, sniffling. "It's not that, Lan. I'm happy to meet your family, I really want that..." She took a deep breath before dropping the bombshell. "It's just that Lexie called me. She asked if our mom had invited me to the dinner they're having this weekend."

"And...?"

"I said I didn't know anything. And then Lexie told me that our mother is having a dinner party to introduce our little brother's new girlfriend." Her voice broke, and more tears fell. "And she didn't invite me or Lexie... Lex found out about this dinner party from other family members."

Lando's eyes softened, and he immediately pulled her into a tight hug.

If it were anyone else, they might say they were overreacting. But Lando knew. He knew what Y/n and Lexie had been through their entire lives. He knew how their parents neglected their daughters and favored the younger sons, Johnny and Mark.

I knew how, on their birthdays, the presents were scarce or inferior to those of their brothers, always with the excuse that the boys were too young to understand the difference. I knew how Lexie took on the role of mother from an early age, making sure Y/n had everything she needed until she was able to pursue her own dreams.

Y/n rarely visited her parents, and when she did, it was like a regular visit. They never treated her like the incredible woman she had become. Her relationship with her younger siblings was cordial, but distant. In the end, her only real family had always been Lexie. And now Lando.

"I don't want to introduce you to my family..." Still in his embrace, she murmured.

"Love..." Lando pulled away a little, holding her face tenderly.

"It's not because I don't love you, Lan." Y/n quickly clarified, sobbing. "But because I know how they can be. I know what they can say about you. And I don't want you to go through what I went through..."

The pilot stared at her for a few seconds before pulling her into an even tighter hug.

"I'd do whatever you want, Y/n." He whispered against her hair. "If you ever want to take me to meet them, I will. But I know they can be difficult, and I don't want you to get hurt anymore by this."

At the beginning of their relationship, Y/n was still afraid to tell Lando everything. But one day, she felt safe enough to open her heart and expose every wound. And he was there, holding her while she cried, whispering sweet words and assuring her that she would never have to go through that alone again.

"I feel so loved by your family..." Y/n whispered, sniffling. "Even though I've only spoken to them on the phone, or heard you talking about them during our sleepless nights... I wish you could feel that way about my family too. But that's impossible, because I'm not even loved by them."

She cried again, and Lando felt his heart break.

"You don't have to feel this way, love." He tightened his arms around her. "My family has enough love to give to us. You're already family, Y/n."

He kissed her forehead and smiled softly. "And besides, I know how much you and Lexie love each other. And I love seeing that. You guys are amazing."

"Thank you for being here..." Y/n smiled through her tears.

"I'm not going anywhere, love. Ever." Lando caressed her face.

The only person in her family that Lando knew was Lexie and her fiancé. And from the first moment, he sympathized with them. He laughed and talked with his girlfriend's sister's fiancé as if they were old friends and, more than ever, he realized the strong connection the two sisters had, despite their difficult past.

And now, he would do anything to make sure Y/n never felt alone again.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

The building's parking lot was still silent on that cloudy morning, the ground slightly damp from the previous night's dew. Lando finished organizing the bags in the trunk of the car while talking animatedly.

"My mom woke up at five in the morning just to start making a bunch of treats for us. She's so excited, seriously. I think even my grandparents are going to show up there later."

Y/n smiled as she adjusted one of the bags inside the car. "That means I'm going to roll out of there from eating so much."

Lando chuckled, picking up the last suitcase and fitting it into the trunk. However, his smile faded a bit when he noticed Y/n suddenly go quiet and take a step back.

"Hey, is everything okay?"

Y/n shook her head slightly, feeling her hands start to sweat. Without saying anything, she turned and ran to a small patch of grass nearby, bending over and vomiting.

"Y/N!" Lando hurriedly closed the trunk and ran over to her, placing a hand on her back as he waited for her to get up. "What's going on, love?"

She took a deep breath, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before turning to him.

"It was just... a side effect of an anxiety attack earlier. Don't worry, it's not pregnancy symptoms." She lets out an awkward laugh, but Lando doesn't laugh, as he's too worried about her.

"Why didn't you tell me before? I would have helped you, my dear."

"It happened while you were in the shower." Y/n explained. "I was thinking about my family and... well, it made me kind of anxious."

Lando sighed and held her face between his hands, looking into her eyes.

"You don't have to worry about them. You've become a brilliant, independent woman. You don't have to deal with this alone anymore, because most of all, you have me now. And I'm here for you too!"

"Thank you, for everything." She smiled, caressing his face affectionately. When Lando leaned in to kiss her, Y/n pulled away slightly. "You don't want to kiss me after everything I've thrown out, do you?" Y/n smirked.

"You think that's stopping me?" Lando rolled his eyes and kissed her cheek.

She laughed and, after making sure she was better, they went back to organizing the rest of their things before finally continuing their journey, and eventually Y/n went up to the apartment for a few minutes to brush her teeth again.

And then, they went on the short trip until they reached the Norris' country house, and while driving, Lando made sure to distract her by telling funny stories, or remembering cute and old things so she wouldn't think about her own family anymore.

"You have no idea how much my mom is looking forward to meeting you. Ever since I told her I was dating Flo's horse vet intern, she's been counting down the days." He quickly turns to his girlfriend. "Even more so when you started showing up on our phone calls!"

Y/n laughed, remembering the day she met Lando.

She was in her final year of veterinary medicine and was interning at her sister Lexie's equine clinic. On a regular day of appointments, Flo Norris showed up with one of her horses for a routine checkup. Y/n helped her, and during the procedures, the two struck up a light conversation and ended up becoming friends.

Some time later, Flo took Lando to the clinic as a chaperone while she waited for the horse's test results. He fell in love with Y/n at first sight, and at the end of the appointment, his sister unceremoniously handed him over.

"I remember Flo saying it would be cool if I went out with you." Y/n commented, amused. "At the time, I rolled my eyes, but a few days later you got my number from her and we started talking."

Lando smiled, keeping one hand steady on the steering wheel and the other on her leg.

"And now here you are, officially going to meet my family. And I'm telling you, Y/n, my family already likes you more than they like me."

Y/n laughed, looking at the road. Time seemed to pass faster with the light conversation between them.

The gate to the country house opened, and Lando slowed down, driving onto a lawn where he parked. Before turning off the car, he glanced quickly at Y/n and placed his hand on her thigh.

"Don't worry, okay? It's going to be amazing."

Y/n took a deep breath and smiled. As soon as they got out of the car, it wasn't long before Lando's family appeared at the door of the house.

Cisca, his mother, was the first to approach. Her loving smile lit up Y/n's face, warming her heart immediately. Without hesitation, she pulled her into a tight hug, completely ignoring her son.

"Oh my gosh, honey! I've been so excited to meet you! You're even more beautiful up close!"

Y/n laughed, feeling her face flush.

"Thank you, Cisca. I was really looking forward to meeting you too. But in a way, I feel like I've known you for years."

Adam, Lando's father, arrived soon after and quickly hugged Y/n, a sweet smile on his face as well.

"Lando doesn't talk about anything else but you."

"Dad!" Lando protested, making everyone laugh.

"Seriously." Adam continued. "I even thought about starting to charge rent to this girl who lives in my son's thoughts." He said amusedly, putting his hand on her shoulder.

Y/n laughed, placing a hand on her face, embarrassed.

Then it was Cisca's turn, Lando's sister, to introduce herself. "Finally! I've been counting down the days until I meet you." The two hug each other. "Nice to meet you in person, sister-in-law!" She gives a gentle smile, lightly squeezing Y/n's shoulders.

Flo, who already knew Y/n, smiled excitedly before opening her arms.

"You're finally here!" She hugged her tightly and, looking at Lando, teased: "Now you're going to have to learn to share, little brother. I found her first."

"Hey, am I being put on the back burner in this relationship?" Lando said amusedly seeing his girlfriend being hugged by her sister and everyone laughed at his comment.

The morning weather was pleasant, still a little cloudy, and the damp grass beneath their feet betrayed the dew that had fallen earlier. Cisca, the Norris' mother, approached her daughter-in-law and gave Y/n a warm pat on the arm.

"Let's go inside! I made some treats for breakfast."

Lando gave Y/n an amused look before kissing her cheek. "I told you so, didn't I?"

Cisca went ahead, listing everything she had prepared. Y/n soon noticed something curious: among the options were several of her favorite foods. She looked at Lando, who just smiled and winked at her.

"Where's Oliver?" Lando asked as soon as he arrived in the kitchen, holding hands with his girlfriend.

"He'll be back later. Mila slept late last night, and they didn't want to wake her up early because she'd be in a bad mood all day."

They laughed, and Y/n sat next to Lando at the table, where Cisca made sure to serve her a little bit of everything.

"I didn't know exactly what you liked for breakfast, so I made a little bit of everything."

"This all looks like a big feast already! But if I have to choose, I love this cake." Y/n looked at the lavish table and smiled.

Cisca smiled, satisfied.

"Lando mentioned it once. So I thought it would be a good idea."

Y/n's heart raced, and she looked at Lando with immense affection.

The conversation continued lively, with Cisca and Flo telling funny stories from Lando's childhood, much to his dismay. At one point, Cisca asked about Y/n's family, unaware of the complicated relationship she had with them.

"So, honey? Do you have any siblings?"

Y/n shivered a little and Lando noticed, placing a hand on her thigh as a form of comfort, and then she smiled and responded politely.

"We're four siblings too. Lexie, who's four years older than me, Mark, who's 23, and Johnny, who's 20." She took a sip of coffee before adding, "I don't spend much time with them because of the distance. But I see Lexie and her fiancé a lot."

"Lexie and her fiancé are amazing. I've met them both before." Lando smiled at her, trying to comfort her.

Cisca smiled at Y/n. "I'm sure your family is as sweet as you, dear."

"Well... they are." Y/n lowered her head slightly and smiled.

Lando squeezes his hand on her thigh a little and sends a loving smile, soon changing the subject and making everyone forget to ask questions about Y/n's family. But it wasn't their fault, they were still oblivious to the suffering that the newest member of the family was going through.

Breakfast ended with laughter and funny stories about Lando's childhood, but soon Cisca, the pilot's sister, suggested that they show Y/n the farm. Everyone agreed excitedly.

The weather was still cool and cloudy, and the smell of wet earth filled the air. Lando put an arm around Y/n's shoulders as they walked through the countryside, listening to his sisters point out places and tell stories from their childhood. At one point, Flo laughed as she pointed to a fenced-in enclosure near the lake.

"That's where Lando almost cried because he thought the horse was going to bite him." She teased, making Lando roll his eyes.

"I was six, Flo," he said, huffing.

Y/n laughed, finding it adorable to imagine Lando small and scared of a horse.

As soon as they reached the stables, Y/n was enchanted. She approached one of the horses, gently running her hands along the animal's neck. The Norris sisters watched in admiration, seeing how naturally she was with the animals.

"Now you're going to have to learn more about horses, Lan." Cisca teased, looking at Lando with a mischievous smile.

Lando sighed dramatically. "Does this mean I have to read about horses before bed? My God, I'm surrounded by girls who like horses!" He said amusedly.

Y/n laughed, giving him a light push.

While Y/n continued interacting with the horses, and Cisca and Lando were further back playing sibling wrestling, Flo approached.

"What about university? Have you chosen a specialty yet?"

"I recently graduated and for now, I'm working with my sister in her practice. I'm still deciding on a specialization, but I really like horses." Y/n smiled, continuing to pet the horse.

Flo raised her eyebrows, impressed. "You graduated already? I didn't know! Did you have a graduation party?" She said excitedly. "I want to see pictures!!" Y/n laughed at her cheerful comment and shook her head, still smiling.

"I didn't want any parties, I just attended the certificate presentation ceremony. Lando was there with my sister, and then we went out to dinner at a restaurant he had booked," she said, smiling as she remembered the special night.

Flo smirked.

"I still can't believe I was the one who brought you two together."

"I remember well the day you suggested we go out. I thought it was funny at the time." Y/n laughed.

Flo shook her head, laughing. "And look where we are now. He loves you so much, Y/n. Every time he calls us, he only talks about you."

Y/n felt her heart warm and looked at Lando, who was play fighting with his other sister on the other side of the stable. She laughed as she saw him get pushed by his sister and grumble.

She loved him so much. And she didn't even know she could give and receive so much love too, because she never had all that in her childhood, besides the love of her older sister.

Flo smiled when he saw her expression.

"Want to go for a horse ride?"

Y/n turned around and smiled. "Sure! I'd love to."

And then, Flo smiles and gently squeezes her sister-in-law's shoulder, going to get the horses. Y/n excitedly walks quickly to her boyfriend and he smiles, hugging her waist.

"I'm going for a horse ride with your sister." She said excitedly.

Cisca, upon hearing this, smiled excitedly. "I'm going too!" She ran to get her horse, and Y/n laughed.

Lando turned to his girlfriend, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I told you my family would love you."

"They're amazing." Y/n smiled.

He pulled her into a kiss. It was slow and sweet, a reflection of the affection they felt for each other. Lando's hands roamed around her waist, over her Quadrant sweatshirt, while Y/n's fingers curled in the curls at the nape of his neck. He smiled into the kiss and then pulled away, giving her one last peck.

"Come with us!!" Y/n smiles teasingly, knowing that Lando wasn't a big fan of horses.

Lando grimaced. "I only ride horsepower... and four wheels... on the track."

Y/n let out a loud laugh.

The morning passed with Y/n riding alongside Cisca and Flo. On the other side of the farm, sitting on the porch of the house, Lando watched his girlfriend having fun with her sisters. Every now and then, her laughter echoed across the field, and he smiled without realizing it. His heart gave a passionate leap inside his ribcage.

"She's wonderful, isn't she?" Cisca walked over and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, she is!" Lando nodded, still looking at Y/n with a loving smile, and then his mother sat down next to him, to keep him company, but he sighed a little.

"She doesn't get along well with her family, only with her sister, Lexie..." He looked at his mother and continued. "I won't go into details, because she'll do that when she's ready, but what I can say is that she never received as much love as my brothers and I received from you as a child." He swallowed hard. "And seeing her have fun with the girls, feeling at home... it's wonderful."

"She's loved. By her sister, by you, and by us, you know!" Cisca nodded, smiling. "She's part of the family now, dear. An honorary Norris."

Lando smiled and looked back at Y/n, riding on the horizon, even from afar he could see her smiling and throwing her head back to catch her breath from laughing, as she always did. And then he realized he was right. His heart felt right in loving her.

"I want to marry her..."

The day at the farm went smoothly and pleasantly. In the morning, Y/n rode alongside Lando's sisters, enjoying the fresh wind and the vastness of the countryside. The connection with horses came naturally to her, which made her sisters-in-law even more enchanted by her presence.

Later, Y/n helped Cisca prepare lunch, between laughs and lively conversations. The four women got along well, exchanging stories about their childhoods, while Lando joined the conversation telling some of the adventures he and Y/n had already lived during the races. He mentioned the trips they had taken together, the races she had managed to follow, and the little traditions they had created over time.

In the afternoon, Oliver arrived accompanied by his wife and daughter, Mila. As soon as she got out of the car, the little blonde girl ran into her grandparents' arms, receiving warm kisses and hugs. Oliver and his wife greeted the brothers and, upon seeing Y/n, welcomed him with a kind smile.

"So you're the famous Y/n." Oliver joked, squeezing her hand lightly. "Welcome to the madness of the Norris family."

"Thank you!" Y/n smiles and then Oliver's wife hugs her and welcomes her too.

And then, Mila left her grandparents' embrace and ran to Lando, hugging her uncle's legs.

"That Country!"

Lando smiled, picking up his niece. "Hi, little one! Did you miss me?"

She nodded with a wide smile, but soon her attention turned to Y/n. She got off Lando's lap and stood in front of Y/n, still a little shy as she folded the hem of the shirt she was wearing a little.

"You must be Aunt Y/n, right?" Mila asks shyly, shaking her shoulders slightly.

Y/n looked at her and then at the Norris family, who smiled at the little girl's cute comment. Her heart warmed at being called 'aunt', even more so as it was coming from Lando's niece for the first time.

With a glint in her eyes, she bent down to the little girl's height and smiled warmly.

"Hi, I am! Nice to meet you, little Mila."

The girl smiled even more and, without warning, threw herself into Y/n's arms, catching her off guard. She froze for a while, but then returned the action, smiling and feeling some tears welling up in her eyes, as she hugged the girl.

"Uncle Lando talked a lot about you!"

The family laughed at the scene, and Y/n, while hugging the little girl, looked up at her boyfriend with a playful smile.

"Oh yeah? And what exactly is he talking about?"

"Only good things, I swear." Lando shrugged, a mischievous smile on his face.

"He showed me a lot of pictures of you guys!" Mila then pulled back a bit, watching Y/n closely before letting out sincerely. "You're very pretty!"

Y/n smiled, delighted.

"Thank you, Mila! But I think you're much prettier."

The girl became shy and ran to Oliver to hide her shy face in his arm, causing the family to burst into loud, genuine laughter.

Lando then looks at his girlfriend, feeling that familiar love every time she laughed or commented on something with his sisters, or even the loving way she looked at Mila. As if he had known the girl for decades.

In the evening, everyone gathered around a large table for dinner. The atmosphere was cozy, with warm lighting and typical dishes prepared with care. Mila chose to sit between Y/n and Lando, showing how much she had already grown fond of her new 'Aunt'

During the meal, the little girl held Y/n's hand from time to time as she showed the toys she had brought and Y/n commented on how cool they were and that they could play together after dinner. Lando, watching the scene, smiled with a special sparkle in his eyes.

The conversation flowed naturally, between funny stories and childhood memories. At one point, Oliver made a joke about how Y/n had finally found a way to 'get Lando in line'.

"Finally someone has managed to tame this one." Oliver joked, raising a glass.

Y/n chuckled and winked at Lando before replying, amused, "Well, I'm still trying. But I think taming him completely is a lost cause."

The family burst out laughing, while Lando pretended to be offended, putting his hand on his chest as if he had been hit, increasing the laughter even more.

"That's not fair! I'm an angel." He said, crossing his arms.

"An angel who likes speed and lives running away from household chores." Cisca added, laughing.

"It's worse than that, Cisca! When I ask him to help clean my apartment he makes an excuse and I eventually end up falling for it." They laugh.

"Hey!" Lando protested, making everyone laugh even harder.

Dinner continued to be lively with laughter and conversation, and when silence finally fell over the Norris table, Adam raised his wine glass and asked for a toast.

"I just wanted to say that we're so happy to have you here, Y/n. Ever since you arrived, we've felt like you were already part of the family. So know that this is your home too, and that we welcome you with open arms. You're special to Lando, and that means you're special to all of us. Welcome to the Norris family."

They put their glasses together and toasted, while Y/n smiled and thanked him quietly. Already knowing that if she spoke loudly she would start crying. But with happiness.

Y/n felt her heart warm at those words. Lando squeezed her hand under the table, conveying his affection and silent support. She smiled, touched, feeling truly welcomed.

The night continued with laughter, stories and affectionate moments, as they gathered on the couch in the living room. Cisca and Adam told some funny stories from when Lando was little and Y/n believed that certain things still haven't changed, making them laugh and Lando hide his face in his girlfriend's neck.

She could feel that this day was becoming one of the most special days she had ever experienced in her 25 years of life.

It was already dawn, when they were getting ready to sleep, Y/n walked through Lando's old room, curiously observing the trophies, the miniature race cars, the posters and the old photos of him with his family. It was like diving into her boyfriend's past, and it made her smile.

She gently ran her fingers over a photo of Lando as a young boy, holding a trophy almost bigger than him. Her chest filled with emotion. Feeling part of that home, that family, was something she had never experienced before. Without realizing it, a few tears of happiness ran down her face.

It was at that moment that Lando entered the room. He was wearing a comfortable sweatsuit, his hair still damp from the shower. Seeing her from behind, admiring her memories, he smiled and silently approached, wrapping her in a hug from behind.

With his head resting on her shoulder, he murmured, "Do you like my sanctuary?"

"I loved it... I felt so at home here." Y/n smiled, leaning against him.

Lando tightened his hold, feeling her warmth against him. When she turned to look at him, he noticed the tears in her eyes and frowned in concern.

"Hey... What's up? Is everything okay?"

"Yes. Unlike last night, these are tears of happiness... Of belonging." She smiled, quickly wiping away the tears.

Lando watched her for a moment before smiling softly.

"You were already part of the family before you even met them. You fit in here perfectly." He chuckled softly. "Even though they can be a little intense sometimes and tell you all about my childhood embarrassments."

Y/n laughed, and before she could respond, he gently cupped her face and pulled her in for a kiss.

It was a slow and emotional kiss, a soft and passionate meeting of lips that conveyed all the love and gratitude they felt for each other. Lando held her as if he wanted to immortalize that moment, while Y/n responded with the same intensity.

When they pulled away, Lando sighed against her lips and smiled. "I think my niece has adopted you for good."

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head.

"It seems I have no escape from the Norris family anymore."

"No way! I won't let you get away!" Lando cupped her face once more, his eyes shining with love. "I love you,"

"I love you, Lan." Y/n smiled, her heart warming.

And there, in each other's arms, they knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful story together. Y/n felt like part of the family and Lando knew that she was an important part of his life too. And no one was destined to escape each other.

And she found her second family.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Where Do You End Pt. 3

Main Masterlist

Read on A03! - Pt. 2

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, angst, body swap, mentions of smut, humor, horniness, very weird

Summary/Warnings: You and Dean have a talk.

Author's Note: Here we go. Dean about the be on his KNEES (for several reasons)

Word Count: 5.3k

A lot was happening. 

Cold wind had filled Dean’s body—Her body—and then suddenly the bunker library was gone. Sammy was gone. Everything was gone, and he felt like he’d been flipped in and out, turned in a circle, and everything was spinning when the world came back into focus. 

And he was so fucking confused.

He was back in his own body. Taller, easier to control, better to reach high things with, and less likely to accidentally move too fast and slam into something. He had his own legs and arms and feet and hands.

Dean had never really appreciated his hands before this. But son of a bitch, he’d missed them. One week without them, and he’d failed to open jars, had Her fancy, looping handwriting that he couldn’t even read, and dropped three guns. She could always hold a gun easily, but Dean had almost taken Sammy’s ear off.

He’d never take his hands for granted again.

He’d never take his body for granted. As fun as boobs had been for about two days—he’d never touched them, She would’ve killed him, but he’d liked watching them bounce—he’d quickly gotten sick of bras and how sometimes they just hurt. A lot of Her body had just hurt at random points through every single damn day. Dean was never going to be sure how She just did things, because he’d gotten a fresh wave of what Sammy had called post-menstrual syndrome, and he’d wanted to kill someone. 

He’d missed being taller, missed having Little Dean, missed not needing to worry about walking through the gas station at night—he’d had to start taking Sammy every time he wanted some pie, and he was never going to leave Her alone in a bar again—and not having to keep track of his goddamn hair all the time.

Even now it was too long. He’d been ready for a cut by the time the curse had hit, and somehow over just one week of being unattended, Dean felt like he had a mane. When he rubbed a hand over his jaw he could feel stubble, and She hadn’t even left him a razor. Or scissors.

If fact, the room seemed to be mostly empty, save for a lot of books, some stray ritual materials on the floor, and the motel furniture. There wasn’t even food or beer, and the bed looked hardly slept in, and Dean had a feeling that all those books would have worn pages from Her attention.

He didn’t quite know what he’d expected, when they switched back. A warning would’ve been nice, or a heads up that he’d suddenly be transported to the middle of freakin’ nowhere. All he knew what that She’d spent the week somewhere rainy, with trees and a view of the ocean, crashing up in waves on the rocks. Somewhere where the motels had cabin-like furniture and a lot of photos of bird and moose. 

This limited information told Dean that he was either on the upper East Coast, or the upper West Coast. 

So if he called Sam and took a gamble, he had a fifty percent chance of getting rescued, along with an equal shot of being stranded even longer as Sammy fucked off in the wrong direction and Dean tried to work out where the hell She’d landed him.

But if Dean was here, She’d be back in the bunker with Sam. So, hopefully, She wouldn’t be so pissed that she’d just leave Dean to find his own way back. 

Hopefully when Dean got back, She’d still be there.

He’d spent most of the week scowling at books and random points on the wall, trying to figure out how the hell he was going to fix this. He couldn’t lose this. He couldn’t lose Her.

And She did love him. She’d said she loved Dean, and she’d used the present tense, and there was still hope. He’d fix this. Dean had spent the whole week repeating to himself that he would fix this. He’d read a bunch on articles online, asked Sam what he did when Eileen was pissed—Sam had said Eileen never got that pissed at him, so Dean had thrown out all his lettuce—and tried to call Her over and over to fix this.

Dean had been worried She wasn’t getting his messages. He’d started to feel something heavy and sickening grow in his stomach, because She could have been in danger. Sam said She’d been emailing him about the curse, but maybe whoever had been hurting Her had gotten her laptop, and they’d been using the emails to throw Sam and Dean off the trail. Maybe She’d been waiting for Dean to come help Her, but he’d just been brooding so now she thought he didn’t care.

Her laptop was still open, and when Dean clicked on her inbox, his emails had been left unread. Her phone was on the bed, and he could still see all his messages on the notification screen. She hadn’t been in danger. 

She’d just been ignoring him. 

And he could feel his jaw clench—his hands fist and his brow draw—as anger began to settle in his muscles and throat, but he didn’t have the right to it.

Because Dean was pretty sure She thought he didn’t care. 

About Her. 

“She just needs space, dude.” Sam had looked up at him from across the war room table about a week ago, his voice dangerously close to a lecture tone. “She just found out you’ve been lying to her for years-“

“I lied for her.” Dean had snapped, glaring at his phone. “Why won’t she call me back-“

“Because as far as she’d concerned, you just lied. She doesn’t care that it was for her,” Sam had put quotation marks around those last words, and Dean had scowled. “She cares that you didn’t think about her at all-“

Dean head had snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “Shut the fuck up, Sammy, of course I care about her-“

“I know that.” Sam hadn’t wavered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Because you tell me. But all you’ve done with her is make her feel confused and dumb-“

“She’s not dumb-“

“I fucking know that Dean! I’m trying to tell you how she feels-“

“I wouldn’t need you to tell me,” Dean’s words had been pushed through his teeth, and he’d been damn near ready to punch Sam in the face or smash his phone on the table. “If she’d pick up the phone.”

Sam had given Dean a long, odd look, and then shaken his head. “Whatever, man. Not the love of my life who’s gonna hate my guts.”

Dean had felt the blood leave his face. He’d felt his whole world shatter just a little, felt his heart fucking stop. Just go dead in his chest, because She didn’t hate him. She loved him. Dean had decided that he’d be fine not being able to touch Her or hold Her as close as he wanted, because at least She’d be safe, and She’d never hate him. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to look in the mirror and see anything but a rotten, cracked pile of trash if She hated him.

But he’d looked in the mirror that same night, and he’d seen Her. Awesome, smart, funny Her.

He’d never known what he’d done to trick someone so beautiful into loving him. Dean had been satisfied knowing that possibly, maybe, hopefully, he could’ve been good enough.

That even if he’d never get to have Her, he’d been good enough for Her to trust him, to let him hold Her heart in his hands and keep it safe, just as he’d built his own heart to sit on an alter that was made of Her. An alter that tended to and existed only for Her, that would shatter and cave if he ever became something horrible enough to make Her not want him-

Son of a bitch.

He’d gotten it. 

He’d stared at Her reflection, and he’d felt it, in Her chest. Worked out why he’d spent every moment in Her body trailing after himself, and moving to his will, leaning into his own touch. Why his eyes kept scanning around rooms for something he didn’t understand, but would know when he found it. Why when he’d taken a shower and the smell of his shampoo had drifted through the steam, everything in his body—Her body—had relaxed.

She’d built Her own alter.

To Dean. 

Of all fucking people, She really did love him in the way he’d always refused to hope for. He’d wanted—for Her sake and his own painful reparation—for Her love to be strong and real, but fleeting.

He’d prayed that She did love him, and She’d always like him, but it would pass and Dean wouldn’t have to spend his life forcing himself a few steps back from grabbing Her and fusing Her love into his ribs until he could really fucking feel it.

He hadn’t wanted to feel it. He’d wanted Her love to wither, so Dean could tend to his own selfish desire in peace, and She could be happy.

A piece of him had hated the idea of Her being happy without him. But that had been part of the sacrifice. Dean would have to break himself down until he learned how to stop getting jealous when Her attention drifted, when he figured out how to lie to himself about not caring if She settled safely with some boring douchebag in a way that stuck on his body. 

He’d told himself that one day She’d start flirting at a bar, and his legs would forget to chase after Her because he really did want Her to be happy. 

But now he could feel it. He had been able to feel the part of Her that moved and rolled and hummed only for Dean.

He’d started rehearsing his speech that night.

He had a whole thing ready. He’d tell Her she was right. He’d stay he was sorry, and that he’d make the same choice a million times to keep Her safe but he’d never be able to live with himself She thought he didn’t care. He’d say he cared. He’d say it over and over until She understood that Dean could be reduced to ash and sand, and he’d still care. He was just bad at it. He was just bad in general. But he loved Her, and that made him feel okay.

He’d practiced in his head when he was in Her body—using Her voice to apologize to Her had felt strange and wrong—and he spent the time while he waited for Sammy to arrive going over it in the mirror. She’d forgive him. He’d run the speech by Sam, and Sam had rolled his eyes and called Dean a loser and an idiot, but he’d said it would probably be fine. 

It would be fine.

Sam said Dean would be picked up in a day, and he’d get to back Her, apologize, and everything would be fine.

He packed Her things as he waited, running over the speech one last time as he heard the rumble of Baby’s engine outside.

But when there was a knock at the door, it wasn’t Sam standing on the other side. 

——————

It’s raining. 

It fucking raining.

You’re standing outside in the rain, your hair clinging to you brow and your clothing stuck to your bone, and Dean’s staring at you like he’s seen a ghost, and this is so dumb.

“Hi.” Your voice is flat and not as strong as you’d like, but you’d also been out here for a minute before he’d answered the door, and the cold is already sinking too deep into your skin.

“Uh,” Dean stares at you, a small line forming in his brow. “I thought you’d be Sam.”

“I’m not.” You raise your chin slightly, holding his gaze. “I’ve had enough of being someone else for a long, long time.”

“I- you- Uh,” he clears his throat, and there’s something shaken and slightly off in his gaze, something that makes him falter. “I’ve never been good at-“

“Am I allowed inside?”

Dean blinks at you, his brow fully drawing, and you roll your eyes.

“It’s raining, Dean.”

He frowns, scanning over the grass behind you and the pavement, and the sight of the mist and darkened concrete almost seems to shock him. He stands a little taller, almost stumbles back, and grabs your arm.

Yanking you right inside after him.

Forcing your body to fall right over his, keeping you there for a brief second as you regain your balance, and then just fucking moving away.

He’d been so warm. He hadn’t quite smelled right, but you’d smelled like him, and it had made up the difference. His strong, steady arm had wrapped around your back for a second, and then he’d left you standing in the center of the room as he shuffled away.

He’d left you standing alone.

Nothing had changed.

“I missed you.”

You glower at the air, turning to see that his voice had come from the bathroom. The door has been left ajar, and you can see him moving around inside, and you hate that you’re still listening. That it’s Dean’s voice—his real voice, with all that same gravity he always has and the deep sound almost a bass in your chest—so you’re clinging to it like it’s wood and you’ve been set adrift.

Dean set you adrift. He’s the one stranded you and threw you to the waves and lied. Then he’d always pulled you just close enough to the shore for you to foolishly believe he’d left you rest somewhere warm, and then he’d fucking left again.

“You missed me.” Your voice has a little more fire behind it, and you can feel it bubbling up in your neck and stomach. The explosion. “You fucking missed me?”

Dean’s head pokes through the door, and there’s a small frown on his face. “Of course I-“

“Did you really miss me? Or are you just saying that when you secretly want me gone?”

He flinches. Dean visibly recoils, like you’ve stabbed him, and you’d feel worse about that if he hadn’t broken your heart into pieces with the blunt end of a gun and then fused you back together a little more his than before. A little more devoted—because at least he’d cared enough to pay you any mind—and a little angrier.

Dean says your name slowly, you hold your hand up, and his mouth shuts closed in a second.

“We’re going to fight, Dean.” You let out a slow breath, scanning over his face. “We’re going to fight, and then I’m going to leave.”

His eyes widen, something wild and panicked flashing behind them. “You’re-“

“I’m leaving with you. Or without you. But I,” you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut because you can’t look at him. He looks wounded and smaller than he should be, and he can’t do that. Not now. “I need to know, now. I need to know why you lied, and why you just made me stay in love with you-“

“I didn’t mean to.” He mutters, and his voice is soft, and you still won’t look at him. “I didn’t- You had to be safe-“

“I was safe-“

“Yeah, you were. But you wouldn’t have been, with me.” 

Something’s passed to your hands, and it’s soft and warm. You risk one eye open to stare at the fluffy towel in your hands, and Dean’s still talking.

“You woulda had a target, people with me and Sammy always get targets, and they always end up dead. And I-“ He chokes on something, and you’re staring at his knees. You still feel like you’re seeing too much. “I couldn’t lose you. I don’t- I won’t lose you. I needed to protect you, and I wanted you to be happy-“

You scoff, glowing at his thighs. “That’s a lie. You always stopped me from moving on-“

“I know-“

“You don’t know, Dean!” You’re shouting at his stomach, strangling the towel in your hands. “You have no idea how- It hurt! It hurt all the time that you’d say you didn’t love me, and then you’d turn around and tell me nobody was good enough for me, and I- I was confused, and lost, and lonely-“

He says your name, and you shake your head at his chest. 

“No! I would’ve been safe! I’m always safe with you-“

Dean’s laugh is dry and humorless. “That’s not-“

“It is. You-“ You choke on the air, and the base of his neck tenses. “I don’t trust just anyone, Dean, and I trusted you with my life, I loved you-“

“Loved?”

You stare at him, and he’s never been so still. Like he thinks that if he even breathes a little too loud, you’ll bolt. 

And he looks pained. 

You can feel it. In your own chest there’s a phantom of something clenching at your heart, and there’s a wired tension in your muscles that you’d grown used to over the past week. 

He’s shivering a little. It’s humid in the motel room, and he’s dry, but Dean’s shivering. 

And it’s a little hard to breathe.

“Love.” You whisper. “I love you. But it hurts, Dean. It really fucking hurts.”

He bows his head, and only mutters, “I- I had to protect you-“

He keeps repeating that, like it’s a mantra or prayer. Like he can make it real, if he just says it over and over until the words are only sounds.

“You didn’t need to protect me Dean, and you know it.” You sigh, rubbing your neck with a hand as Dean seems to curl into himself. “You were just afraid.”

He flinches again. “I-“

“But you are not a coward, Dean Winchester.” You force your voice to be a little stronger, your spine moving to stand slightly taller as you watch him. “You are an asshole, and a masochist, and self-sacrificing dick, and the best man I know.”

He glances up at you, swallowing slightly, and you push on.

“You’re clever, and resilient, and loyal, and caring. You’d give your life in a second for anyone, and you’d give your happiness for the people you love because you are an idiot who can’t see how it kills us. I did not fall in love with you against my will. I am a smart woman, and I chose you.” You narrow your eyes at him, taking a firm step closer. You can feel something charged and bright moving between your bodies, and you don’t know if it starts in him or you, but it’s all the same. Right now, it’s only you and Dean in the whole world. “I chose you because you are brave, so stop being a coward and be fucking happy, Dean.”

“I-“

“Tell me you’ll be happy.”

Dean stares at you. “I- I’ll be happy.”

He frowns at the words, as if they taste odd on his tongue. 

You’ll have to work on that.

You nod. “Tell me you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” He almost lurches forward, like he’s physically stopping himself from reaching out to hold you. “I’m so goddamn sorry, and I’m never gonna-“

“Tell me you love me. But,” You stand a little taller, and this could break you. “Only if you really fucking mean it-“

“I love you.” The words are fast. Firm. 

They jumpstart your every nerve at once, and you’re going to be okay. 

“I’m in love with you,” Dean says your name, his hands fisted at his side. “I love you, and I’m sorry, and I’ll be happy, and just- Don’t leave. Don’t leave, please. I love you, goddamnit, so don’t-“

“You can say it all you want.” You swallow, keeping your gaze locked on his. “I want to see you do something.”

There’s a long moment where he just stares at you, but there’s no sickening worry in your body. You didn’t push him too far, you said everything you had to, and Dean might be drawing ragged breathes you can feel tighten around your own lungs—might just be standing there and watching you—but if he does nothing at all you’ll know. You’ll finally know in a way that you can trust, and you’ll be able to walk away and relearn how to move and think in a world where Dean really doesn’t want you-

He moves so fast. One second Dean’s staring at you with a drawn brow and flared nostrils, and the next he’s on you. Bent over your body, his hands molded and perfectly fit on your waist and jaw, his lips slammed over yours and pulling every part of your soul out through your mouth.

And every bit of doubt evaporates without any suffering or pain.

Because Dean cares.

And you can feel it.

It’s not just in how he kisses you, like he’s returned from war and you’ve been a crumpled picture in his pocket, his kiss bruising and searching all at once, as every bit of his adoration and desire and hope—there’s something that’s still delicate in this kiss, because his hands stay on your body like you might be set adrift once more and he’s fighting against all the tides and rocks to keep you at his side—sinks from Dean’s lip into yours.

It’s in the lingering sensations you can still feel between your bodies. It’s in how when your arms wrap around Dean’s neck and you return the kiss with every bit of wrathful and determined love you’ve ever held for the man before you, you can feel the rush of relief in his body.

He pulls you closer, and groans against your skin when you squirm in his hold. Dean presses kisses over your collarbone and sucks a line up your neck that makes you fold into him like putty, and when you scratch at his arms a prickle runs over your own skin.

You think Dean’s feeling it too. He grabs at your hair and tugs it back to bite and kiss at your throat, and his own body jerks slightly. He falls over you on the mattress, and makes a low grunt that matches the weight of him that’s

been dropped on your chest. You reach a hand between your bodies as he nips at your lower lip—palming and squeezing at his bulge, feeling yourself melt into the sheets at his low groan—and when he swats you away he replaces the loss with his knee, his thighs tensing in that brief moment where you’re aching without relief.

Dean rises over you, and furrowed expression on his face.

“Got makin’ up to do.” He mutters, his eyes so dark on yours it feeds something in your gut that had been flickering and humming into an inferno. And you could get lost in that darkness. They’d be warm. “I just- I’m takin’ care of it, sweetheart. You need to trust me-“

You push up to kiss him, cupping your hand around his head and keeping it short and gentle.

“I trust you.” You whisper against his lips, running your thumb over his cheekbone. “I’m staying. Just- I-“

You don’t have the words. For how if this is it, if he’s going to love you and hold you, he can’t drop you. You can’t do this just to be left stranded once more.

But you don’t need the words. 

Because there’s still a little bit of you that is Dean, and he understands. 

Dean lays you back on the bed, pulls his shirt over his head, and now you have nothing but time and care. His hands trace and map over your body as he strips you out of your wet clothing, and lingering cold from the rain vanishes as Dean starts to touch you.

Really, properly touch you.

Rough, calloused hands squeezing and pulling at your breasts and hot, full lips wrapping around your nipple, sucking and pulling it between his teeth with low groans that vibrate through your body. By the time he’s trailing down your stomach—sucking dark marks all over your skin that make your back arch off the bed and your knees spread in a silent plea for him to move further down—you’re tugging at his hair and gasping his name in need.

Then Dean dives right past where you’re dripping and rolling the sheets for him, kissing down your thighs and up to your ankle, switching legs and keeping you pressed to the mattress with one firm hand.

You can see his own need, pushing against his jeans. You can feel it, throbbing and pulsing in your core.

“Dean,“ You moan as he nips at your knee, slowing working his way back up to your center. “Shit, Dean, please-“

His mouth moves to your inner thigh, sucking another, almost possessive spot right near your core before hiking your legs over his shoulders, his breath warm over you pussy and his mouth so close-

“Dean-“

“That’s my name, baby.” He hums. “Get ready to scream it.” 

The asshole winks at you, and you barely have time to glare at him before he dives into your cunt, and everything in your body lights on fire.

It’s infuriating how everything Dean does, he’s good at. How even eating pussy feels like something artful when it’s Dean doing it, and he’s working you like clay with only his mouth. Turning you into a writhing, moaning mess on the bed as he licks and sucks and bites and kisses, and his scruff is just long enough to burn on your thighs in the best way, and his hands are drawing pattern on your thighs in perfect rhythm with his movement between your clit and clenching pussy, humming and growling against you in harmony and pushing his tongue into you right as your hips buck off the bed-

When you start to grind and moan a weak warning of your release—barreling towards you like a tidal wave—Dean keeps you on the edge with teeth on your clit and teasing movement of his tongue for just too long. Just until you’re whining and squirming and trying push your cunt right into his face, and then he pulls your clit into his mouth and flicks his tongue over you in almost a frenzy, and you unravel.

You might be screaming his name. Your heart feels like it’s filled with helium and your body feels a little bigger as Dean presses one calming kiss over your clit and draws away—keeping at least one part of his body pressed to yours as he sheds the remainder of his clothes—and you think he might be proud.

You’ll let him have this. Just for tonight, when all he’s done is eaten you out and you feeling like you’re glowing, you’ll let Dean be pleased with himself.

He settles back over your body, his gaze locked to yours as he bumps against your inner thigh, and every breath feels important.

“I-“ Dean clears his throat, scanning over your face. “I, uh- You didn’t happen to bring protection-“

“I’m clean.” You whisper, your fingers curling on his chest. “And on the pill.”

He swallows, nodding slowly. “And you’re okay-“

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure-“

“Dean.” Your voice gets a little more solid, your eyes firm on his. “If you don’t want to, we won’t, but I’m more than-“

You yelp as Dean slams his mouth down to yours, kissing you into the mattress and swallowing your high sound as he pushes his cock right into you without resistance.

He pulls back to watch you as he bottoms out, reaching down to trace a small circle on your clit, and his hips jerk with a grunt.

The movement make him press right against your g-spot, Dean groans and rolls his hips, you whine and start to grind against him as your own pleasure crest and vaults, and you both freeze as you realize what’s happening. 

Dean pressed his thumb flat on your clit, the movement slow and careful, and lets out a hiss through his teeth. Still staring at him, you purposefully clench around him, and stars cloud your vision as need pools deeper in your gut. 

Something snaps. 

And you’ve never been higher. 

Every movement is doubled, and everything seems to only carry you higher. Dean begins to slam into you at a brutal pace that grows sloppier and sloppier the more you grind and writhing beneath him, squeezing his cock whenever he hits that spongey, needy part deep inside of you, the feeling of practical euphoria doubled and practically intoxicating. 

At some point Dean rolls onto his back, never removing himself inside of you and never breaking his pace. Your nails scratch at his chest as you ride his dick, rubbing your clit over his chest and reaching a hand behind you to play with his balls as he guides you up and down with a tight grip on your hips-

Dean almost roars when you squeeze his balls with light fingers, and you would’ve fallen forward if he didn’t hold you up. One of Dean’s thumbs move to furiously rub at your clit, and you’re not sure who cums first.

All you know is that it’s all an almost infinite high as you fuck yourself on his cock through your orgasm, and Dean pushes up to suck at your tits as his release drips down your thighs. 

You could’ve stayed here forever. Basking in the little, electric aftershocks of your shared orgasm, squeezing around Dean when he twitches inside of each other, watching each other with open looks of wonder because you might have just found a backdoor to heaven. 

But eventually, Dean has to roll you onto your back press a kiss to your brow before shuffling to the bathroom. He returns with a wet washcloth that gets tossed to a corner of the room once he’s cleaned you up, and wastes no time settling his body back over yours with a low groan.

“Sammy’s gonna have a field day.” He mutters against your skin, and you giggle, letting your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Been telling me for years to just talk to you.”

You hum. “You should’ve listened. Sam can be wise beyond his years sometimes.”

He snorts. “You’re supposed to be on my side-“

“I am.” You tilt your head to kiss his cheek, smiling against his scruff. “Just not for this.”

“Whatever.” Dean grumbles, and he’s clinging to you like you’re a teddy bear. “Long as he shuts his big mouth about it-“

“We could make out in the war room. When we get home. Just to fuck with him.”

There’s a long pause, and when Dean speaks again, he sounds a little breathless. You feel a little lightheaded.

“You’re my dream girl.”

“I know.” You smile at the ceiling. “Dean, can you still feel-“

“Yeah.” He pinches at your waist, as if testing that the aftereffects are still there. “Kinda hot, though.”

“You wanna keep making it up to me?” You hold his gaze as he pushes up on his elbows, raising his brows at you. “Sam doesn’t know where we are, you still have about four years of missed sex to catch up on, and it is storming outside-“

Dean grunts your name, and you give him your best innocent pout.

“You forgive me?”

“Yeah.” You whisper. “But I’d like a few more apologies, please.”

He raises his brows. “Am I ever gonna get to stop apologizing-“

“No.” You offer him a small smile. “But mostly just because your apologies are amazing.”

Dean rolls his eyes, you open your mouth to tell him that you have forgiven him—so if he really doesn’t want to keep having sex, he by no means has to—but you don’t have to.

He knows. 

And based on the fervor with which he kisses you back into the mattress, he wants nothing more than to try and fuck you until you’re turned inside out, and he’s gotten that lingering bit of the curse inside of him to stick.

End Note: Rare Dean Winchester dealing with emotions, spotted in the wild! Thank you so much for reading!! Shoutout to the anon who requested a body swap series, huge W for that idea <3, this one's for you.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

River Below 9

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, bullying, illness, and other possible triggers. Warnings are not exhaustive and will not include plot devices/elements.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Life in the Banks is tough but one man can make it worse.

Characters: Rafe Cameron

Note: Vday fic taking me some time so here ya are. Also, Ward is tiptoeing his way into this lol.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Lord Farquaad loves unnecessary vowels. Take care. 💖

Work is daunting the next day. Your head hurts, you barely slept, you just couldn’t settle for the night. And your body is inexplicably sore. You walk to work with a weight in your legs and chest. 

Each step is a challenge as you know Rafe will be waiting for you. He’ll have had all night to stew in his anger and humiliation and think of a dozen ways to take it out on you. 

It’s not your fault. You didn’t want to do that. You didn’t ask him to. He made you get naked and he couldn’t… perform. You almost feel bad for him.  

You come up the back steps of the shop, rickety and creaking beneath you. You reach for the door but it opens before you can even find the keys. You nearly fall backwards into the dirt as you take a step down. You’re surprised by the face that greets you. 

You expect the younger Cameron, not the elder. You blink dumbly at him as he bids you ‘good morning’. In a moment, his stern expression brightens and he smiles as he steps back, welcoming you in. You accept with a nod and sidle past him inside. His closeness has you quickly flitting to the row of hooks over the low bench where you hang your bag. 

“Didn’t know you were opening,” he says. 

“Um, yeah, sir,” you take your apron and loop the strap over your neck. 

He closes the door. Odd, he seemed to be on his way out. You reach back to tie the loose straps around your waist. 

“You’re a hard worker,” he comments as he crosses his arm, stepping closer, just past the door. He leans on the wall, one foot hooked over the other, “honest… can I ask you something?” 

You hesitate and press your palms to the front of the apron, just against your stomach. “Yes, sir.” 

He chuckles, a rocky noise. He’s amused by you. You don’t know why. 

“My son. Rafe. He been in?” 

“I just got here–” 

“Yesterday?” He interjects. 

“Oh, uh…” you think back. You don’t know if you should tell the truth. You saw Rafe, just not at work. 

“I don’t remember, Mr. Cameron,” you clasp your hands together, “it was pretty busy–” 

He nods and clicks his tongue. He watches you, combing his finger through his dark hair. He pushes away from the wall, dwarfing you as you curl your shoulders inward. 

“You’re a hard worker. I admire that. Wish my son had that in him,” he puts one hand in his pocket, “he’s got too much of an attitude.” 

You push your shoulders up in half a shrug. It isn’t your place to say so. 

“Haven’t seen him much,” you lie. 

“Ah,” he takes a breath, “well, you just let me know if you get any of that attitude. I’d hate to think of him treating you mean.” 

“He mostly stays upstairs,” you squeak, “sir, I should… I should start opening.” 

He considers you. His bold eyes hold you in arrest. There’s something in them that reminds you of Rafe. You repress a shudder. 

“How about I help?” He offers. 

“What, er, sir?” You blanch. 

“Yeah, I’d love to get my hands dirty,” he says, “it’s humbling, you know? Lot of people out there buy these places and treat it like a number in their portfolio. I think this place has potential. And you. Would do my son well if he got down here in the grease, too.” 

“Erm, okay, sir, if you like, but...” you hesitate. Will Rafe be mad at you? It’s not like you can say no. Not to either Cameron. “Um, you might mess up your clothes though.” 

He looks down at his button up and leather belt. You know it’s probably expensive. He shops at places you never even heard of. 

“How about an apron? You got a spare one?” He suggests. 

“Oh, sure,” you turn and grab the apron that used to be Arlene’s. You offer it to him. He smiles and thanks you. 

“You just pretend I’m new, alright? Like you’re training me,” he explains as he loops the apron over his head. “Honey, do me a favour and tie me up.” 

He turns his back to you. It takes you a moment before you get his meaning. You grab the strings as the dangle at his side and draw them back to tie around his back. He seems bigger as you stand close. You let go and back up. 

“Great,” he spins and claps his hands, “show me the ropes, honey.” 

Your lips purse. It’s so strange. He's so nice but his son is so mean. It confuses you. For a moment, you think of telling him. Maybe he could set Rafe straight. No... no. That’s stupid. Just like you. 

“So I turn the grease heaters on first,” you redirect your attentions to the work; that’s easy, you can do it. Anyone can. “I always check first, see if the grease needs a change.” 

He hums and nods, shadowing you closely.  

“They take some time, so I get the coffee going next. In the morning, it’s what people get the most.” You lead him to the machine and pull out the basket with yesterday’s filter. He watches intently as you empty and rinse it. Your hands are clumsy as you tear open a packet of pre-weighed grinds. 

“I’m making you nervous,” he says. 

“Sorry, sir, I’m... I’m tired, that’s all.” 

“You work hard. I saw the schedule. Almost every day.” He muses. 

You nod, “yeah, er...” 

“I know, it doesn’t pay too much, does it?” He sniffs and holds out his hand. “Let me.” He takes the packet and rips into it easily. He pours it into the filter. “I can still figure out coffee.” 

“Um, next I start the french toast mix. We do waffles on weekends only.” 

“Right,” he shuffles with you. “You live in-town?” 

“I live... down near the shore, sir,” you answer, “down on the banks.” 

“You know, my son, he just never got that. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have to lift himself up. I’m trying to give him that. I want him to do that with this place. Work from the bottom,” he puts his hands on his hips as he looms over you. You pile ingredients into a large bowl and whisk. “Like you are.” 

“Sir, I... I’m just a pogue,” you mutter. 

“You’re a person. You got someone to take care of, don’t you? They keep you working.” He remarks. “You’re young...” 

“My mama, sir. She’s sick but... we manage.” 

He’s quiet as he continues to observe your diligent work. “Can’t underestimate hard work. If I was my son, I’d start with a pay raise but I’m not gonna do the job for him. He needs to figure that out.” 

“Yes, sir,” you set the bowl aside and pull out a loaf of bread so it’s ready. 

“Get the grill going for sausage and craw,” you instruct next. 

“See, you got the mindset, honey. You focus. I can’t make this place any better but my son will get there. He is mine, after all,” he chuckles. “how about...” he pauses and exhales as he thinks, “you could come work with me. Two days a week. Cut back on shifts here since they got the new bodies in.” 

“Sir? For you? But I... I only worked here for a couple months.” 

“You learned fast, didn’t you? You’re showing me around like a pro,” he shrugs. “It’s nothing big. Just need someone to help me out with some clerical work. Filing or whatever. It’ll pay better than here, even with tips.” 

“Sir...” you blink at him. It’s not a true escape but it might get you some space from Rafe. Or it might make him hate you more. 

“You drive?” He asks. “It’s up away from the banks. I could get you there. Send a car.” 

You don’t know if you can say no. Not just because it could lose you both jobs but because you need the money desperately. Your ma needs to see the doctor again. 

“No pressure,” he assures you. 

“Sir,” you look up at him, “can I think about it?” 

He smiles and rubs your arm, lingering on your shoulder with a squeeze, “take your time. I’ll leave you my number. You can let me know.” 

☀️

You get home without obstacle. It doesn’t comfort you. You can sense trouble lurking. It might not be right now, but it’s coming. 

Rafe never showed up at the stand. Ward left and the rest of you went through the motions. You smell like fish and grease. The others swore to silence and loaded up a bag for you to take to your ma. 

She’s happy when you hand it over with a large diet coke. She thanks you as you watch her. She was always right. About everything. Maybe she can help you figure this out. 

“Ma,” you twist your fist around your finger. “I... I need help.” 

“Help?” She looks alarmed as she keeps from biting into the cajun chicken. “You sounded like you were struggling last night. Everything okay?” 

You blanch. Did she hear everything? Does she know? 

“Oh, I was trying to fix that old VCR,” you have to hold back a cringe at the lie. “But that’s... no. Mama, I... I got an offer for a new job. I’d still be working this one but, er, this new one... I don’t really think I’d know what I’m doin’.” 

“You’re smart, baby, you’ll learn,” she preens and takes a greedy bite. You wait for her to finish. “That’s so exciting. A new job!” 

“It’s um... it’s way up... out of the banks.” 

“Out of the banks,” she tuts. “That’s far.” 

“I know, mama, but Mr. Cameron--” 

“Cameron?” She jerks as if she’s been doused in ice water. “Ward?” 

You frown, “that’s him, mam.” 

“Oh...” she chews another mouthful and thinks. “He’s a rich one.” 

“Yeah, he bought the chip shack--” 

“He did? When was that?” 

“Weeks ago,” you sway. “I guess it’ll be too much. Not worth it, huh?” 

“Well, it’s your choice, baby,” she stares at the bag then crumples the top. “I just worry about you goin’ so far.” 

“I didn’t say yes or nothin’,” you assure her. 

“I think if you wanna, you should try. You never know what could happen, right? Could be a step up to an even better place,” she nods. “It’s just... them people up there, the kooks are real different than us. They don’t like us.” 

Pogues don’t like you either. You don’t say so but you don’t see much of a difference there. You smile thinly. 

“I’m still thinking,” you say.  

You flinch at the noise on the roof. You look up in unison with your ma. She grunts.  

“Hope it’s not them dang shingles ‘gain. Can’t afford to have it nailed down.” She mutters. 

“I’ll check, ma,” you grimace. “It could be a gull again. They tryna build their nests all over.” 

You back out and head to the front door. It’s just another tick in the yes column. You need to fix the roof, properly, not to mention the rest of this place. 

As you come out, a rock bounces off your chest and you clatter against the door. Rafe stands across from the front steps with a handful of stones. You touch your chest as it throbs and cross the crooked porch. 

“Been tryna get you out here. Was about to come in and introduce myself to the mammoth. Thought those were extinct.” 

“Don’t talk about my ma,” you sniffle as you cross your arms. 

“Or what? You gonna lay there like a corpse again?” He snaps. 

You furrow your brow. You only did what he said. He must be mad because of well... his thing not working. 

“I got an idea,” he chuckles. You notice he’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday. 

You stare at him. Waiting. 

“Should I come in and let mama hear or are you gonna get your ass over here?” he scoffs. 

You tramp down the steps and he tilts his head at you. His eyes narrow and he reaches for your arm. He jerks you toward him. You collide with his stomach. He grabs the back of your neck and his other hand comes under your chin. 

He holds you against him as he snarls down at you. His hand shifts along your throat. “You’re so pathetic,” he sneers. “Small, nothing.” His fingers curl into your scalp. “Feel that. Feel the power I got over you? I could break your neck and leave you out here for the old lady to holler for... no one would care.” 

“Yes, sir,” you croak at him. 

“Come on. You lead the way,” he shoves you so you stumble and fall on your ass. “You pogues know all the hiding spots. Let’s go find one.” 

[multiheadcanons]

THE MERCS ACTUALLY WOULD WISH THAT ON THEIR WORST ENEMY

aka: request— the mercs receive an invitiation to their enemy’s funeral

scout: he wakes up one day and checks the mail. didn’t know why he thought to do that today, but it was a good thing. somethings in there for him. from his cousin, no less. weird. he opens it, and sees card stock saying “gather in remembrance for Matthew Hunter Crowsman” matthew…. matthew. that son of a bitch is dead? he is off to a phone. to any phone. begging snipes to take him to the payphone. uses the “i gotta call my ma” excuse because it always works on snipes. when he gets to a phone and makes the call, the second he hears that muffled “hello?” of his cousin through the static he is cackling. “who got the bastard? who ordered the hit??” “oh, you finally get that card i sent ya, jerry?” “received it, read it, laughed. who ordered the hit?” “ma got sick of his shit, man. asked me about a month back, at this point. they found him a couple weeks ago. construction dug the body up.” “you need to dig deeper graves. hey, i know a lady down here, she’s damn good at disposal—” he doesn’t end up going, but he’ll send flowers for the next of kin. matthew hunter crowsman has lived rent free in jeremy willis’ mind since the fourth grade when he killed the goldfish his dad got him at show and tell. it was the only thing he had of the man. well now the fuckers dead. dead by his family’s hands. and he didn’t even have to do it. it’s nice to have a big family sometimes.

soldier: soldier had one woman who could be considered his nemesis, and he found out she died through the obituaries. it was this crotchety old bitch he ran into at the grocery store. she took his favorite box of cereal, the last box of his favorite box of cereal in the only store in town, directly out of his cart. he was not invited to the wake and showed up anyway. looking nice and societally acceptable in his military blues, most family of the deceased asked his relation to the woman. he said he was an enemy. and he’s happy she’s dead. they end up getting him up there for the eulogy. he looks very nice behind a podium, even if he is ranting about a dead woman’s sticky fingers.

pyro: pyro doesn’t have enemies, they don’t know enough people to genuinely not like anyone. but pyro does love a funeral. just shows up to funerals to watch people cry. it’s like a touching film for them. the display of grief born from so much love, so much love never to be seen or felt again… it brings a tear to their eyes. but when that nasty french cigarette addict dies they’re gonna be front row to slam dunk the body into a two foot hole. it’ll be a party for pyro at spy’s funeral.

demo: demo also doesn’t have many enemies. and the enemies he does have at this point are in different continents. and he’s pretty sure they don’t think about him as much as he thinks about them. but he does keep an eye on the obituaries in case he needs to update his shit list and remove those who he outlived. he won those, by the way. those are considered wins in his book. if he outlives you he wins. he’ll send flowers to the next of kin of the first ten on the list. superiority rule and all.

heavy: heavy doesn’t need to go to the funeral! he’s there when they die! he has not had a mortal nemesis he didn’t kill with his bare hands. it’s somewhat sad, as he ponders that more, but it’s the way his life turned out. and he’s okay with that much. he knows some people wish they could say that one day, if at all. he’ll pay a moment’s worth of respect. then he’s moving on. might even be in a bit of a better mood on the outside! it’s a good day when enemies die. it’s one less worry off his plate. he even moves lighter. quicker on his feet. yes, it’s always a good day when an enemy dies.

engineer: engie wants to state for the record that he was a kid. and what happened that day was legally ruled an accident. but engie was never a big kid. he was on the chubby side, but he was never big enough to really hold his own against anyone who would find themselves in the position of being a bully against a conagher kid. and engie’s always had issues with keeping his hands to himself. it took a lot of work to not grow up to be that man. but there was this one kid. james. he wouldn’t leave him alone, and always managed to catch him alone, or off guard. and one day, he just got sick of it. nobody was looking at what was going on on the road. dell just shoved him. he didn’t see the car. the kid died from his injuries a couple days later. and he did go to the funeral. he genuinely didn’t mean to do it. he liked the feeling of satisfaction he got when they told him he was dead though. that made him feel real good. so now he just makes sure the body can’t be found. easier that way for everyone involved.

medic: the doctor had an academic rival. insanely intelligent, incredibly ugly, and much nicer than the doctor. everyone loved this guy. loved him a lot more than they liked herbert. but this guy was a fraud. nobody’s able to prove it, even to this day, that the man is a fraud. there are no controversies, no conflicting scientific research, the man’s got a squeaky clean record; but medic knows in his heart of hearts and his soul of souls that the dude was and still is a fraud and a liar. it wasn’t like the guy was doing groundbreaking research here, either. who cares about cancer treatment? but he was so beloved. so the joy, the cathartic sigh of satisfaction he let out the day he read the obituaries and saw he died from a hit and run… he thanked whatever god was there. and he did go to the funeral. told the team they were going to be down a doctor and dipped. he arrived drunk in his best black. sat in the back and smoked a cigarette. didn’t make a noise. just watched all of these people mourn him. then spit on his grave as they carried it towards his resting place and left. he claims it was the happiest day of his life.

sniper: sniper doesn’t have enemies like that. nor would he go if that was something offered to him. you probably would’ve already lost him at the mere mention of the name. if you insist on telling him someone he doesn’t like is dead, he’s going to respond “oh. that’s... okay then—” and then he will exit the conversation. might chuckle to himself when he’s alone, maybe even shake his head, but after that he’s done. back to business. he does not think about the people he doesn’t like. that’s a waste of mental effort.

spy: spy does a weekly check of the obituaries just in case he sees a name he may recognize. sometimes he does; but he remembers he’s reading the obituaries. and he continues.

[coffee-fueled-cookie]

The Eltingville Club as parents

Josh Levy

Is a girl dad through and through (trust me guys, all fat guys should be girl dads)

Probably grows up to be a big fan of anime, but they'd both share a love for Star Wars. They watched the spin-off cartoons and movies, and she definitely dragged him to the new movies

He has tried to sit and watch through her animes, didn't like the cutesy magic girl ones until he actually sat down and watched Madoka Magica

Does enjoy Dragon Ball Z, so trust he put her on that

As for his collection, there are still important pieces that he keeps in cases, he probably has a space dedicated to them, maybe his office, but if something just simply won't gather value overtime then he for sure passes it off to her

This resulted in him crying over a chewed up Darth Vader doll (she was teething)

If his daughter grows up to wanna do cosplay he's definitely gonna have to straighten up about hus behavior, if he imagines guys like Bill talking about girls like his daughter??? Oh god, he'll have a heart attack

Took her to her first comic-con and basically hovered the whole time. Did, in fact, knock the mask off some pervy storm trooper

They've definitely had the problem about him being so stifling and protective, he feels a lot like his mom amd thinks about her a lot

Jerry Stokes

Oh brother, like father like son, those two are absolute dorks through and through, his clone basically popped out of his wife

As soon as his son is old enough, Jerry is hopping on making him a character sheet. He's teaching him Magic the gathering, painting him little miniatures

Was the dad that made his kid pick a Pokémon starter on the 1st birthday

Jerry has since found his place and enjoys the friends he has, but having someone so close that he can understand him and vice-versa is refreshing, especially since it's his own kid

They go to ren-fair for sure, the costumes are suuuppperr dorky, but it's fun

Jerry definitely struggles with his kid growing up and going off and doing his own thing. He definitely worries about who his kid is making friends with

He just doesn't want his kid making the same mistakes he did, even if his kid has proved that he can make good choices and make good friends

Bill Dickey

Oh god, everyone run, it's Bill, but a girl

Yeah, he has a daughter. No one knows how tf it happened, but it did

She's super bossy, super particular, and it's hell on earth, especially because he ends up wrapped around her pinky

Divorced dad core, definitely not married to the woman that had his girl

Surprisingly very present though

She's into Star Trek and mostly everything he's into, but on top of that, she's probably doing amazing academically

Raising a feminist, and he can't give credit to himself

Probably got it from mom

While she's terrible and has his nasty attitude, they actually get along too well

Bill, at some point, finally drops that femoid crap, it's hard to unlearn but it happens

Does that mean he's a feminist? No.... They still fight as much as they get along, especially because he can kinda put her down and doubt her a lot, doesn't help she's his kid

'I know better than you' mindset, it's not good

The fights don't even get resolved, they just choose to forget and next thing you know they're bonding over some old ass show Bill watched as a kid

It's exhausting but hey, they make it work somehow

Pete Dinunzio

(If this shit went accurately, he probably pumped and dumped, so he wouldn't be raising his kid)

BUT LET'S IMAGINE OTHERWISE

The dad that picks up his son every other week/weekend. It's always awkward the first half hour, but usually, he lightens up

He has for sure fought with mom about the stuff he keeps in his house

It's mostly posters from rated r films and the occasional prop from Sick Mofo

Finally, he just throws all the shit in one room and calls it an office, as for keeping it locked? He doesn't think that far

"The fun parent" or rather the enabler. He kind of encourages bad behavior, the guy to be like, "You can drink/smoke as long as it's at the house."

If his kid ends up into the shit he's into, then awesome for him, if not? He's kinda indifferent

Fell asleep once while watching his boy as a toddler, woke up to the police at his door and holding his kid (he didn't lock the door and the toddler ran out)

If they all met up again as parents, the other kids would probably be advised not to hang around him

Not because he's like a predator, he's just a bad influence, and his boy probably grew up alongside those influences and wouldn't be very nice or sympathetic either

[triangularz]

SANJI- BECOMING

18+, < 400 words, a tiny bit nsfw. love narrative for our sanji boy. est. rel., reader is a straw hat (reminder when you see it, that "paradise" -> first half of grand line). heavy on cooking metaphors -> first sanji fic. FYI I tend to use punctuation as if I were reading aloud, not necessarily to be grammatically correct.

No one's doing it like the Sanji you love; he's your heart's choice indulgence, your faithful north star, your silly, blonde prince. He's the Sanji who fulfills you, whose love is true and anchored, who fucks you straight through to your open, eager soul. And you're his wild, fine blend, his brown-skinned Straw Hat import, from a Paradise summer island. A rare pirate, a rare woman: Peppery, smooth and smoky, with just the right kind of sweetness. A little like his mother, a little like Nami, a little like Robin, but a whole glorious mess of your own damn thing. And your devotion- it makes no demands nor requires his habit of pleading. It's a shock to him always, that any begging comes from you, for him- to go faster, to let you cum, to cuddle closer, to make the meal you love so much. Your taste is so right, and it's changing him.

No one's doing it like the Sanji you love, whose original flavor and core ingredients still dominate: Still Sanji, who with his head bowed and a lit cigarette stands silently ready to protect, who first holds you safely, then shields those who need- who want- to be saved. Still the Sanji who screamed desperately for Robin, whose humility brought you to tears, blurring your vision. Still Sanji, Baratie cook, Zeff's son- loyal and dry and brave. He's the Sanji who heard his captain's plea, then stood against his family and gained new freedom. Still Sanji, heir to his mother's goodness, tenderness and wonder. And he's Sanji the chef, who anticipates your hunger and thirsts, who satisfies you with vibrant food and fuels your day to day.

No one's doing it like the Sanji you love, who's now a Sanji better savored, with fresh seasonings and fewer useless ones: The Sanji who values the lives of his friends now sees the worth in his own. The lavish, adoring Sanji who considers women sacred, now knows his reverence was broken. Whose antics- ignored and tolerated before- you chose to confront. A Sanji who takes in stride the rifts between you and no longer as signs you'll quit him. "We'll figure it out" replaces his "Please don't leave". A Sanji who believes your apologies, and labors less to be loved.

No one's doing it like the Sanji you love. Yeah, the crew's played its part to move him forward. Yeah, his Straw Hat exploits are growth by trial and fire. And yeah, this Sanji- he's done his own work. But you're his chief spark, his missing ingredient. He's changing. He was Sanji, is Sanji. He's becoming... Sanji. By his side you'll stay fused. No one's doing it like him.

▪️

I love, love comments and respectful, honest feedback (you can even DM if you have thoughts, but want to share personally!). And I love talking writing in general, if you want a buddy to do that with!

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 40 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⋆˚࿔ Book 2 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇Adonis being a shit baby

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Telemachus hesitated outside the small chamber where Adonis had been placed. He could hear the muffled sobs from within, broken only by the boy’s choked pleas.

“Papa… please… wake up…”

Telemachus’ fingers curled into fists at his sides. He exhaled sharply, steeling himself before finally pushing the door open. Adonis sat on the edge of the cot, his small hands clutching at the thin blanket like it was the only thing keeping him together. His face was red and puffy, tears streaming down his cheeks as his chest heaved with every broken sob.

The boy didn’t look up when Telemachus stepped inside. He just kept shaking his head, whispering to himself. “He’s not dead… he can’t be… he’s too strong… he’s not…”

Telemachus crouched down, keeping his voice gentle. “Adonis…”

The boy flinched. His head snapped up, and for the first time, Telemachus truly saw him—his own eyes staring back at him, filled with grief and rage. “You did this,” Adonis hissed, his small hands trembling. “You killed him.”

Telemachus swallowed down the guilt that crawled up his throat. “He was my enemy,” he said carefully. “And he hurt your mother—”

“LIAR!” Adonis lunged at him. He was small, weak compared to the warriors Telemachus had fought, but there was something feral in his movements, something desperate. He pounded his fists against Telemachus’ chest, his sobs turning into gasping breaths. “You’re the villain! You took everything! You ruined everything!”

Telemachus let him. He let the boy hit him, let him scream, let him grieve. Because he knew—no words would make this better. No explanation would ease the pain of a child who had just lost the only father he had ever known. Eventually, Adonis’ fists slowed. His body shook with exhaustion, and his knees buckled. Telemachus caught him before he could collapse, wrapping an arm around his trembling frame.

Adonis didn’t fight him this time. He just buried his face into Telemachus’ tunic, his sobs muffled against the fabric. “I want him back,” Adonis whispered, voice raw. “I want Papa.”

Telemachus closed his eyes, holding his son a little tighter.

“I know,” he murmured. “I know.”

Telemachus sat on the edge of the cot, his hands resting on his knees as he studied the boy before him. Adonis sat rigidly, his small hands gripping the blanket, his tear-streaked face still contorted in anger. Telemachus took a slow breath. “Adonis… Raphael wasn’t your real father.”

The boy’s eyes flickered with something unreadable before narrowing. “Shut up.”

Telemachus didn’t waver. “I am your father.”

Adonis let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “No, you’re not. My father is dead because you killed him!” His voice cracked, his small chest rising and falling unevenly.

“Raphael stole you from me,” Telemachus tried again, voice calm but firm. “He took your mother and raised you as his own. But you—you’re my son, Adonis. You always have been.”

“Liar!” Adonis shrieked. “You’re just trying to take his place! He loved me! He—he held me when I had nightmares! He played with me, he wanted me! You don’t even know me!” His small hands balled into fists. “You’re a stranger! You’re nothing!”

A tense silence filled the room. Telemachus swallowed hard, his jaw tightening, but before he could say anything else, another voice cut through the air.

“Enough of this,” Antinous growled.

Adonis barely had time to react before Antinous strode forward, grabbing a handful of his curls and yanking. The boy yelped, his hands flying up to claw at Antinous’ grip. “Let go of me!”

Antinous scowled, his patience snapping. “You’re his son whether you like it or not, brat,” he spat. “Look at you—you’re the spitting image of Telemachus. Open your damn eyes and stop acting like an idiot!”

“Let go!” Adonis screamed, kicking at him. His little hands clawed at Antinous’ wrist, but the older man didn’t release him immediately.

“Antinous, enough!” Telemachus barked, shoving him away and forcing him to release the boy.

Adonis stumbled back, rubbing his scalp furiously while glaring up at both men, his chest heaving. His face twisted into something between rage and fear, his lower lip trembling. “I hate you!” he shouted, his voice hoarse from all his crying. He turned and ran out of the room before either of them could stop him.

Telemachus shot Antinous a furious look. “What the hell was that?”

Antinous scoffed, crossing his arms. “Someone had to knock some sense into the brat. He was never gonna believe you with all that sobbing and whining.”

“He’s a child,” Telemachus snapped.

“He’s Raphael’s child,” Antinous shot back bitterly. “Raised by him, brainwashed by him. What did you think was going to happen? That he’d just jump into your arms and call you father?” He exhaled sharply. “I know it hurts, but you’re going to have to break it into him, one way or another. And sometimes, that means being harsh.”

Telemachus clenched his jaw but didn’t argue further. Instead, he exhaled, rubbing his temples before striding out of the room. He needed to find Adonis. Adonis ran through the dimly lit halls of the ship, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his vision blurred with tears. His heart pounded against his ribs, his mind screaming in denial.

Raphael wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be.

He refused to believe the words Telemachus had said, refused to accept the truth pressing down on him. It was all a lie. It had to be. He stumbled past door after door, ignoring the startled glances from the crew as he darted past them. His feet carried him forward until, almost by instinct, he found himself outside the only place that felt remotely safe.

His mother’s room.

He shoved the door open without hesitation.

“Mother!” he choked out.

Inside, she sat on the bed, cradling Phebie in her arms. She flinched at the sudden intrusion, her wide, tired eyes locking onto Adonis. She looked as if she hadn’t fully processed what was happening. “Adonis?” her voice was barely above a whisper.

Adonis didn’t answer. He ran straight to her, throwing himself into her lap, wrapping his small arms around her waist as sobs wracked his body. “He’s gone!” he wailed against her. “They—they killed him! And now they’re trying to tell me he wasn’t my father!” His voice cracked painfully. “They’re lying, right? Telemachus is lying, isn’t he? Tell me he’s lying!”

She froze. Her lips parted, but no words came out. How could she answer that? Her fingers trembled as she hesitantly ran them through his curls, her heart aching at the sheer desperation in his voice. “Adonis…” she murmured, guilt tightening around her throat.

“He loved me!” Adonis sobbed. “He wanted me! He took care of me—he was my father!” She shut her eyes tightly, willing herself not to break down with him.

She wanted to comfort him. She wanted to tell him that Raphael was his father in every way that mattered, that he had held Adonis in his arms and treated him like a beloved son. But she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Because deep down, she knew the truth.And the truth would break him.

Instead, she held him closer, letting him cry into her lap, gently rocking him as Phebie whimpered beside them. She wanted to shield him from the pain, but no matter what she did, the world had already begun to unravel around him.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress @f3r4lfr0gg3r @permanently-nothere @eyuunho @jackintheboxs-world @simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches @sugarlillycookie @kaguraaaa @doodle-with-rhy @0anodite0 @cocosparkel @tati-the-fangirl @dazedemery @tsmaruchan @xo-cuteplosion-xo @galaxygurlll @pjopinkk @h0ne4bee @minteaspoon @zendoesstuff @yuvany @i-liketoast @dorkyfangirl24

[be-xkyy]

Platonic Yan! Little Son

Warning: platonic yandere, possessive, jealous, crying, a little cute?, this is PLATONIC.

This is something platonic that I don't know why I wrote, since it's not part of my usual content... but the idea came to me and I wrote it in an hour or so, so here it is. 🤷🏻‍♀️🖤

Divider credits: @cafekitsune

Yandere Little Son who is a beautiful and energetic 5 year old boy, your only baby, your only son for now (forever) who adores his mommy, YOU, with all his heart.

Yandere Little Son who since he was a baby was always calm and happy in your arms, but only with you, since he would sob and scream at the top of his lungs when someone else grabbed him (including his father)

Yandere Little Son who despite everyone saying that he would become more independent and less clingy when he grew up, that didn't happen. Oh no. He just became more attached to you and when he learned to walk he started following you around (like a little duckling)

Yandere Little Son who took his first steps walking towards you, his first words were "Ma—ma!", all his drawings are of you and him (and a distant figure in a corner that according to your son's own words is his father. At least he added it... right?)

Yandere Little Son who was sobbing and screaming when you first took him to daycare, the teacher told you that all kids were like that on their first day and that your son would calm down when he was with the other kids. Only an hour later you received a call from daycare to go pick him up since he wouldn't stop crying.

Yandere Little Son who learns at home with a private tutor since he doesn't want to be separated from you at any time, he pretends to get along with the tutor in your presence only to kick her hard under the table when you go to the kitchen for lemonade (he gets upset when she takes it easy and doesn't give up)

Yandere Little Son who approaches angrily and kicks his father with all his might (it doesn't hurt) when he sees him kissing you, his little hands push him (without moving him even a millimeter) while he yells at him in a shrill voice.

"Get away from my mommy! Get away, get away!".

Yandere Little Son who every night sleeps in your room regardless of you putting him to bed in his room, he leaves his room to go to yours, climbs into bed and lays right between you and his father, he snuggles up to your side squeezing his teddy bear while asking you to tell him a story (he falls asleep halfway through)

Yandere Little Son who always wants to match your clothes, always helps you in the kitchen when you're cooking something (he ends up covered in flour) and always gives you flowers when you go out and even when you're at home he cuts the flowers from the neighbor's garden to give them to you (your neighbor comes to your house upset because your son pulled out all her daisies)

Yandere Little Son who started crying when he found out you were pregnant and had a little brother or sister, he sobbed clinging to you hiding his face in your stomach saying he doesn't want a little brother or sister.

"NO! Mommy... sniff— sniff... I don't want a brother or sister! You'll stop loving me and only want him! sniff—"

Yandere Little Son who lets you comfort him by taking him in your arms telling him that even if you have another child he will always be your baby, your first son, that you have special affection for him, he stops crying hiding his face in your neck even though your words calm him down, he takes his head out of your neck to look at you his little hands gently grab your cheeks.

"And if I don't like my little brother when he's here... can we return him? Give him to someone else who wants him... ok mommy?"