#i didn't understand some of the things in the finale

[cosmosluckycharms]

Showtime☆

pt2

Lullaby In Blue

When you finally get to the manor, it's dark out.

You were so sleepy. You just wanted your momma. You just wanted your grandpa.

You assume that when you get home, your father will take you in with open arms and talk as sweetly as your momma said.

Unfortunately for you, unlike how momma described him, he's cold and hard to decipher...

You look up at him in a mix of curiosity and excitement. He looked so cool! he was wearing a fancy outfit and he just looked so cool! The only thing that threw you off was how he looked so.....tired.

"WOAH!! You look so cool! Are you my dad? Momma has said so many good things about you! How about that one time when you-" He cut you off.

"Alfred, show her to her room if you will." he started walking away.

Your heart broke a little at that, but it's okay! You win him over sometime! For now, you need a nap.

Alfred walks you to your room while profusely apologizing about Bruce.

You walk into your room. And it's clear they didn't do much research on you...

The toys were better suited for a kid younger than you, maybe around 4 or 5 years old.

You don't complain though, the room is huge and you have a bigger bed than you can imagine!

You have your bedroom and walk-in closet! Alfred says to sleep and tomorrow they'll sort out the room and make it more for you.

The next morning you wake up and decide to unpack a bit.

You didn't have much, just a few clothing items, jewelry from your momma, a few picture frames, and some of momma's old stuff such as paintings and her cassettes of movies.

As soon as you finished unpacking Alfred came to call you down for breakfast.

You go downstairs to see at the table your father, a boy around 23 with black hair, and another boy who looked around 18 years old with also black hair with a white patch.

You introduced yourself to them like your momma taught you.

"Hello!! im Y/N L/N!!! Well, actually I don't know about L/N now because technically he is my dad," you point to Bruce. "I'm kinda hungry," before you could continue with your ramble Alfred shut you up with a plate of pancakes in front of you.

It's clear to everyone but you that 7 in the morning is too early to be this hyper and nonsensical.

"Oo! pancakes! I love pancakes! They're my favorite! My grandpa makes it from scratch-" You pause for a second, a very slight stop that makes your eyes water up a little.

No one could notice it.

Well besides the literal detectives sitting at the table.

You continued rambling for a bit before Alfred mentioned a playground in the backyard, recently designed for you.

"WOAH that's so cool! Can I go play on it? Please?" you made sure to drag the 'e' in 'please', that's how it always worked on momma.

He allowed you to and you quickly got off your chair.

You were about to play outside before realizing you were nowhere near ready to play outside, you still had your PJs on, and your fuzzy socks!

You ran to your room to get ready for the day, which was difficult because momma would always help usually

You were trying not to look sad, you shouldn't be sad. You should be thankful for all the things they're doing for you.

After a couple of hours of playing on the mini playground, you got tired.

You decided to get back inside and eat.

You went inside and saw it was empty. You decided to go into your room and take a nap.

You walked in and realized you forgot to go shopping with Alfred! All the things in your room were baby things, and you only had two other pairs of clothes to wear!

You didn't mind though.

You lay down on the carpet and fell asleep immediately.

It wouldn't hurt to sleep for a while...

You woke up a couple of hours later.

You woke up silently crying, you had a dream about the day you and your momma and grandpa went to a theme park.

You couldn't remember much about the dream, only that you had so much fun.

You don't know why you're crying, you had a great time, did you not?

You didn't understand. This shouldn't be happening.

To calm yourself down, you started humming the lullaby your momma sang to you.

It worked slightly.

You decided to get up and eat, you were hungry and hadn't eaten earlier.

You went downstairs and saw a boy no older than 15 eating a bowl of cereal.

You hadn't met him yet, so you tried to introduce yourself to him!"HELLO! My name is Y/n l/n!!!!! What's your name??"

Unfortunately for you, you caught him at a bad time. He had been working on a case since 7:30 am and this was his break.

"Leave me alone," he said, in a obviously tired tone.

Well, obvious to everyone but you.

You continued asking him questions, only for him to ignore you, grab the bowl of cereal, and walk away to his room.

You looked at him with a confused look on your face.

Your stomach rumbled a bit before you snapped out of it and grabbed yourself a bowl of cereal too.

You ate alone at the table.

The next day while outside in the garden, you saw a boy playing with a dog.

The dog looked so cute! You decided to talk to the boy.

"HELLO!! Im y/n l/n!! it's nice to meet you!!"

You started asking him a lot of questions, like what his name was, what the dog's name was, are you guys were siblings, and more!!

The excitement you had to meet others was overwhelming to some people.

He ended up getting the dog to chase you away.

You ran to your room and stayed there the entire day.

You wanna go home.

You ended up finding out their names at one point or another.

The 23-year-old one was Richard "Dick" Grayson, the 18-year-old one was Jason Todd, the one that shooed you away while eating cereal was Timothy "Tim" Drake, and the boy who got his dog to chase you was Damian Wayne.

You don't understand why they didn't want you, you weren't mean or evil like those villains you saw in the books momma read you, so why did they not want you?

You tried getting into hobbies you didn't care about so you guys could talk about them.

You joined a book club, which you kind of disliked since it was so quiet.

You joined gymnastics, which you were good at and kind of enjoyed, it did help you get your energy out, though!

You tried coding, which you didn't like at all.

You tried art, which you were okay at.

Nothing really stuck!

And it's not like it helped with getting your family to notice you.

It didn't matter to them, they had Gotham to help.

You didn't have actual hobbies or interests for a while.

Not until you were 12.

You had signed up for theater in middle school, and the teacher was nice enough to take you all on a field trip to a play.

It changed your life.

You knew immediately that that's what you wanted to do.

You wanted to spread smiles, just like how this play had spread joy to you and others.

You wanted to perform on stage for others!

You knew this was what you wanted!

As soon as you got home you asked Alfred if for your birthday you could have a stage.

One that was going to be demolished soon due to not bringing in any money.

He decided to think about it.

It was a strange request coming from you.

You never really asked for things like this.

You never really asked for non-neccesities at all!

But he decided to not think about it too hard.

feeding my like 2 emu!reader enjoyers lmfao

oml this took so long

guys lowk im so tired

anyways this is ass

taglist:

@shirp-collector-of-fixations @maybeethan69 @iluvcatzz @tacendxx @ninihrtss

[kenwio]

Joker's kid reader: Joker's kid first friend

Route: recovered dove

Author's note: Connected to this ask (finally did it ^-^). Another author's note will be in the end.

Warnings : Grammar, fluff with hints of hurt/comfort.

Your day began pretty normally: Alfred woke you up, saying that breakfast is ready. After you managed to wash your face and brush your teeth, you walked in the kitchen, only to witness your family being tired and for lack of a better word, restless. They all seemed bothered by something, and you couldn't really understand what. Tim and Bruce were looking at the screen of bat-tablet (yeah, they totally have bat-tablet), Dick was thoughtfully chewing on food, stopping occasionally so that he could tell Damian to stop death staring Jason, who looked pissed. When Alfred walked in again, you noticed little leaf stuck to his usual attire.

- Master Bruce, our little guest is still acting aggressive, even after watering.

Now you looked confused. Guest? Being watered?

- It's all your fault, Todd - Damian said harshly

- Oh, for the love of God! - Jason snapped - you were there when that thing fell on me! How in hell were I supposed to know it would take my helmet!

- Still - Damian started, but he was quickly interrupted by Dick

- B, Timmy, any luck finding out what is.... that thing?

- No - answered Bruce, not looking up, while Tim only shook his head

- What thing? - you inquired quietly. On your question, Jason and Damian answered at the same time.

- The thing that stole my helmet!

- The thing that Todd trapped and can't get out.

- well, uh alien-plant? - Dick chimed in

- All of above - Tim added - we can't find out what is until we get it out of Jay's helmet

- Can't we just slash helmet? - Damian asked

- Hey, it's can hurt it! - Dick defended

- it will hurt my helmet!

As they continued bickering, you chewed your food, and after some thoughts, you asked

- Can I see it?

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So there you were, in the batcave with your brothers (Bruce wanted to join in, but he had a meeting in Wayne Enterprise). You were looking at the little creature that was in the helmet of Red Hood. You couldn't really see it, but you didn't want to blind it by lightning it with a flashlight. You were looking at it, until you saw that shiny dark eyes of the creature looked at you back, you felt like it's eyes touched your soul, as if you and this little one had a connection

- Oh, they are hiding - you noted quietly

- well, duh, Sherlock, we can see it - Jason answered

- and they are scared of you

- They? - Dick asked, and you just nodded in response.

As you looked at little plant creature, you couldn't help but feel like you understood the creature. It was afraid, just like you, when you were first taken in. You gently reached out your hand, showing that you wanted to, he don't have to be afraid of you. It let out a strange noise, after which he touched you. It moved a bit, and you saw a little wooden humanoid creature with emerald colored leafs poking out of his different parts, which was looking at you curiously. Seeing that you didn't move and was looking at him kindly, he climbed in your hands, making little creaking sound, and you understood what he was saying.

- they like hats - you translated for your brothers.

Your brothers looked eyes widened, and all of them looked at you as if you had just changed some basics of the world like it was nothing. They did not understand how you understood this creature.

- You can understand this thing - Jason voiced first, sounding shocked

- Yep. And they liked your helmet. He likes hats. - you stated, taking little creature closer to you

- So, can he tell you what they are? - Tim questioned, his curiosity returned quickly. You looked at little creature, who answered to you with his little creeking

- They don't really know. They are too little, they don't even have a name - you answered, looking at creature sadly. You remember times when you didn't have a name, too.

- You know, since they like you, maybe you could help him choose name - Dick walked up to you putting his hand on your shoulder, smiling at you and at creature. You nodded.

- Chlory? - you said quietly, quickly adding - short for Chlorophyll - on your words creature creaked happily

- Tt, how original - Damian said, he was faced away, his arms crossed, his face tinged with forced indifference

- I am Chlory! - creature creaked happily, trying to mimic your speech, making all of you surprised.

- Seems he likes the name, good job (your name)! - Dick cheered you up, patting your head, and chuckled, looking at Damian - Don't sulk, Dami

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From the moment Chlory climbed in your hands, he was glued to you, refusing to climb down from you. Since you were the only one who understood that little creature, you were the one who was taking care of the little plant alien since you were the only one who could understand it. And since Chlory didn't want to get down for you, you were the one who was taking care of it, but soon, your family noticed that the way your routine changed for them was healthy.

Yes, in the beginning, Alfred and Bruce were suspicious. Bruce knew his children had a knack for befriending aliens (and you befriending this little one just proved that tendency), but it still made him worry. What if this little one will hurt you? But you yourself asked Bruce to keep them, and it surprised him, since you almost never asked for anything, so he couldn't deny this one request (you were too cute). So he had to keep his eye on you and Chlory, making sure your little duo would be just fine. As for Alfred, he was utterly surprised with decision to keep this alien, but seeing that Chlory could help him with garden, he made his peace with it, and started helping you to take care of Chlory. But as long as you seem happy, Alfred wouldn't mind.

Since Chlory needed being watered, while consuming it, they made you drink water with them. Sine Chlory needed sun, you had to take walks with them. But other then that, when Chlory noticed that you need to eat, Chlory made sure that you ate, by constantly creaking "I am Chlory" that translated in "you are hungry", and you weren't sure if Chlory made you believe that you are hungry or stated the fact. Chlory even tried to eat your food, and drink your drinks on several occasions, though Chlory just chewed your food and they also didn't enjoy hot tea you usually drink with Alfred, and never touch your steaming hot cup if tea after one bad experience. Sometimes, when you were washing your face, Chlory would jump in open water, so you had to drag them out of it, and drying him up with towel from time to time, yet it was fun and cute, they reminded you cat that tried to play with water tap in videos Tim and Damian showed you.

Thouse little experiences with Chlory became part of your daily life, and one that was quite comforting, one that reminded you you weren't alone anymore. Oftentimes, you could hear Chlory creeking happily, and this sound helped you not to zone out. I'm dark corners of your memory, reminding you yet again that nightmare of your previous life was over.

Surprisingly, Chlory helped you to learn how to speak up. For example, one time you were reading a book Jason told you about, you felt how Chlory were tugging onto your sleeve repeating "I am Chlory" that translated in "Read to me" over and over. You weren't sure you could do it right, but you tried, mentally recalling all the times Jason read to you. Chlory were happy to hear you, and those sessions of reading outloud to them lead you to being complimented by Jason on how good you read and pronounce things now.

Also Chlory forced you to tell you what you were doing and what you were doing. Chlory liked when you talked, and you had to talk more, and one time you were commenting how you were trying to put together puzzle, Dick was a quiet witness of your interaction. He couldn't help but smile at the scene and be proud that you were actually talking. And of course he joined in just a bit later, having cute conversations with both of you.

While Chlory was too attached to you, Tim knew that sometimes you just needed your space. He remembers that you told that Chlory like hats, and since he couldn't really sneak vigilante gear in your room (he tried, yet Alfred advised against it) he began quest of finding best hat for Chlory that also can be just a little bed or shelter for them. So Tim, you and Chlory (more Tim and you, who were searching for approval of Chlory) began researching into hats, trying to find a perfect model of it. Chlory seemed interested in berets, and now you three bought a few (just in case Chlory wanted to change them).

Watching your interactions, Damian can't help but feel a slight pang of jealousy, but he would never admit it. It was good enough that many of the animals he took care of sometimes liked Drake and Grayson more, but now you were the only one who could get along with that's creature and not him?! How come! He didn't voice it, of course, but it seems like you got the idea yourself. So when you were holding Chlory while explaining to Damian how he needed to act. He needed to be even more calm and more gentle than he is when he was with Titus when he was a puppy. You didn't expect it, but you and Damian would bound about taking care of little friends. Yeah, friends, because outside of the family, Chlory is your first friend.

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Thank you for reading! Feel free to share your opinion and have a good day 💖

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Tag list :

@socially-embarrassing , @leovergurl , @deathbynarcisstick , @cryptic-arr0w , @lynns-cornerr , @cxcilla ,  @charlotteking23 , @ninihrtss , @lillycore , @pix-stuff , @tfamidoingwithmylife , @linoalwaysknows , @00hellohello00 , @lilithskywalker , @bagofrice , @lenaisaloser , @devilslittlehelper , @camilo-uwu , @l3v1us , @eyeless-kun , @stargazingbutgayer, @wpdarlingpan , @weirdothatreads , @maybea1 @mel-viper-wayne @amber-content @lizzyzzn

@dearlawdimasimp  (My appologies for not adding you sooner)

if i forgot to add someone to the tag list, please let me know, and i will add you to the next part

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Author's note : My break is over (unfortunately Т^Т), so I would have a little to no time, BUT! I will try to post at least once a week!!!

[solxamber]

Leona romantic and here's the song!

https://youtu.be/nBteO-bU78Y?si=BNupz7ZfAHeIzMER

Dont forget to drink water and eat some food!

"Love me like I love you" || Leona Kingscholar

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: We're Still Underground by Eve

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 660

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Mild Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship

Leona Kingscholar had never trusted happiness. It was a fleeting thing, a trick of the light, a cruel joke whispered on the wind before it was snatched away. He had learned long ago that hope was a losing game, that people only stuck around until they found something—or someone—better.

So when you came into his life, so bright and unwavering, so determined to love him without reservation, Leona didn’t know what to do with it.

You were everything he had convinced himself he wasn’t meant to have. Soft laughter in the morning, your fingers smoothing through his hair as he rested his head in your lap. Gentle kisses on the corner of his mouth, whispered words of affection given so freely it made his chest ache. You looked at him like he was worthy, like he was enough.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

Because one day, you would realize the truth.

One day, you would see what everyone else had always seen—that he wasn’t worth staying for.

Leona had been waiting for that day since the moment you first called him yours.

Waiting for you to wake up and understand that he could never be the person you deserved.

Waiting for the moment you left him behind.

It was late when it happened, when the words he had spent so long dreading finally left your lips. The two of you were tangled together on his bed, your body warm beside his, your hand resting against his chest in lazy contentment.

“I love you."

He froze.

For a moment, the words didn’t quite register, like a foreign language spoken too softly to understand.

Then, his body tensed, and something heavy lodged itself in his throat.

“Don’t joke about stuff like that,” he muttered, staring up at the ceiling. His voice was calm, but the grip of his fingers against the sheets betrayed him.

There was silence, thick and suffocating.

Then—

"Leona."

His name on your lips was firm, filled with something unshakable. Before he could move, you reached for his hand, gripping it tightly.

"Look at me."

He did.

And you were watching him with something so raw, so devastatingly real, that it made his heart stutter in his chest.

"I mean it," you said, voice steady, eyes burning into his. "I love you."

Something inside him cracked, something deep and buried, something he had spent years convincing himself didn’t exist.

His breath was uneven, his thoughts a mess of tangled emotions. "Why?" he asked hoarsely.

"Leona, you're it for me." Your fingers tightened around his hand, grounding him, keeping him from slipping back into the shadows of his own mind. "I love you. Not some idealized version of you, not some fantasy. You."

His throat felt tight.

You weren’t saying this because you wanted something from him, or because you were caught up in the moment.

"You think I want the sun?" you murmured, your forehead pressing against his, your warmth seeping into his skin. "I don’t care where we are, Leona. I don’t care if we never leave the underground. As long as I have you, that’s enough."

His fingers twitched, then curled around yours.

For so long, he had been waiting for the inevitable goodbye.

But you weren’t leaving.

You had never planned to.

Slowly, hesitantly, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. He could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, could feel the quiet certainty of your presence beside him.

And maybe, he could believe in this.

Maybe love wasn’t about climbing toward something unreachable. Maybe it wasn’t about being enough for the rest of the world.

Maybe it was simply this—two people standing in the dark, hands clasped tight, knowing that neither of them would ever let go.

And for the first time in his life—

Leona didn't mind remaining underground

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[rafeysdeer]

boyfriend (aka insecure reader x bsf jason)

civil!reader x jason todd

prompt: where the reader has a terrible boyfriend and always ends up crying about him to her best friend, jason todd, or, where jason finally gets tired of seeing his girl being mistreated and does something about it.

a/n: i know i kinda say pretty much the same thing here, but these two are really cute, okay? i was like giggling and kicking while writing it, hope you guys love it. english is not my first language, also, feel free to send requests!

At 8pm, on your birthday, the day that was supposed to be about you, for you, where you were supposed to be going out and partying, you were curled up on the couch, wearing a sweatshirt three sizes too big for you, after the worst fight you've ever had with your boyfriend.

Your hand wrapped around your phone as you dialed the number of the only person who would understand you, who always did, your best friend, Jason. Your voice sounded tearful on the phone as you almost begged him to come to your apartment, you didn't have to say much, or wait long, before he shows up at your frontdoor.

As you wiped the tears away from your face and dragged yourself to open the door, trying to force a smile on your face, as he pulled you into his arms, before you could even say anything. "You need to break up with that asshole, you know that, right?"

Your voice sounds like a whisper against his chest as he softly guides you into the apartment, with you still clinging to him. "He already did it, he broke up with me, because he's seeing someone else" Your voice barely comes out, the tears running down your pretty face again, and Jason feels his blood boil, as if that asshole wasn't enough of a jerk to you.

With a quick look around the apartment he was able to catch the signs from the fight, the shards of glass on the floor, the broken flower vase, besides the complete mess that the apartment was in, your boyfriend was never exactly a controlled person.

"He doesn't deserve you, he never did," he whispers against her hair as he sits the two of you on the couch, which by some miracle, was in perfect condition, and he hears her whimper against him. "What if the problem is me? What if I wasn't interesting enough, or pretty enough-" His eyebrows furrowed together in the purest expression of disbelief before he shuts you up. "Honey, I'm sorry, but shut up, are you even listening to yourself? You're doubting of the best person I know for some asshole who didn't know how to value the fucking treasure he had."

Your eyes, shining with tears, stare into his, without any words to express how you felt. Jason hated your boyfriend, he always did, and with a good reason, he always treated you as if you were less than him, and you accepted it, because he made you believe that you were less.

Your eyebrows furrowed in doubt slightly, your body moving away from his a little so you could finally look properly at him.

"I would never leave you crying alone on your own birthday for the God's sake, or leave you alond at a party at two am for someone else to take you home." He grabs your hands, an almost pleading look in his eyes, and there it was, you finally understand, all the hate directed at your boyfriend, is because he knew exactly how you should be treated, he knew exactly how to treat you.

Your eyes were shining with something different than tears this time, affection, as your head slowly tilted to the side, absorbing the information. "I could be a better boyfriend than him, come on, I doubt that idiot knows that you only drink tea with cream and a ton of sugar? That you bake cookies to the children at the shelter, so they can feel loved?" He shook his head, he wouldn't let the guy who left you crying on your own birthday after telling you he cheated on you go unpunished, but that was a story for later, for when you understand that everything you ever needed was right there.

"Shut up, I love you," she says with the most genuine, silly smile she had in weeks, maybe months, before wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a heated, well-deserved kiss.

"I've loved you since the day I saw you eating snow when you were six, Jay, I guess I just never thought it was mutual." He smirked, rolling his eyes, his arms keeping her wrapped around him. "I saw you having a crush on Edward Cullen when you were thirteen, do you really think I would still be here if I didn't love you?" You laughed, slapping his arm playfully.

"Shut up and kiss me."

[elliewrites77]

Uncle!Sukuna Part 2

a/n: thank you so much for the support on the last uncle sukuna post! i apologize if this is short.

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Uncle!Sukuna who doesn't return to your doorstep until around 11 am. This time when you open the door, you are in actual clothes, awake and aware. He sees the curiosity in your eyes as soon as he meets your gaze.

Uncle!Sukuna who, you notice, is wearing the exact same clothes you had seen him in as he dropped off Yuji. You could see the tiredness in the mans eyes, and couldn't help but feel a bit bad he had to handle a work emergency so late. You couldn't help but wonder what it is that he did.

Uncle!Sukuna who still doesn't introduce himself as he asks where his nephew is. You had learned from Yuji, before he had passed out on you couch, that he called him "Uncle Kuna", but as far as you knew, that could've been a nickname.

Uncle!Sukuna who follows you into your house when you tell him that Yuji is playing with your son in the back yard.

You lead him through your home, with him silently taking in the space. It was so...different to his own. Your home looked like it was a space for a parent and a kid, while his looked bland and almost empty. When he had moved into the house for Yuji, he hadn't taken the time to really decorate. The only kid stuff in the house was in Yuji's room, and most of his own things were in his room or boxed up in the garage. So he couldn't help but compare your house to his own, pinpointing all the differences that really make your place a home.

Uncle!Sukuna who raises his brow when he sees Yuji playing around with a kid only a few years older. They were play-fighting, doing some kind of martial arts moves. He was still surprised by Yuji's never fading energy, seeing how he could barely stay still for longer than a minute. He seemed to amuse the older kid though, and you.

Uncle!Sukuna who clears his throat when he realizes you two were just standing there watching the two boys. He looks at you, his usual blank expression in place.

"Thanks." Is all he says. Something about his voice gives you goosebumps, but you ignore that feeling and give him a friendly smile. He would think someone who was woken up so rudely at 2 am would be a little angry, especially when a kid is pushed onto them. But he was glad you weren't complaining. And he really liked your smile.

"Of course. Yuji is sweet, I'm happy I could help. I have to admit, though, this is certainly an interesting way to be introduced to my new neighbors." You tried to joked. You felt a little awkward when his expression didn't change nor did he respond. So, looking back to the two boys, you tried to think of something to say.

Uncle!Sukuna who stares at you for a moment. Something about you makes his chest feel tight, and his mind a little fuzzy. Sure, you're beautiful, but this wasn't simple physical attraction. He couldn't understand what was happening to him and that made him frustrated, annoyed. So he just breaths a breath out of his nose, looking at his young nephew.

Uncle!Sukuna who watches as Yuji's head snaps to look at him as soon as Sukuna calls his name. A grin of excitement, at a level that still surprised Sukuna, took over the boys face. He quickly leaves his new friend, running to stand at his uncles leg and look up at the giant man.

Uncle!Sukuna who doesn't let his newborn affection for his nephew show on his face, simply telling Yuji to say goodbye to you and your son. He pretends to not care when a slight look of disappointment takes over Yuji's face, due to having to leave his new friends.

You notice the look, and crouch to give Yuji a warm smile.

"We live right across the street, Yuji, so you and your Uncle Kuna can stop by anytime." You say, grinning and standing when his excitement returns.

Uncle!Sukuna who realizes then that he never actually introduced himself, and neither did you. He grunts, looking to you again.

"Sukuna." he introduces finally. Apparently he's not much of a talker.

"Hi, Sukuna. I'm y/n." You continued your attempts to be nice, friendly. Clearly he wasn't a conversationalist, and you couldn't read him at all, but that didn't mean you had to mirror his brooding, reserved demeanor.

Uncle!Sukuna who simply nods, grabbing Yuji by the back of his shirt to tug him away, his silent way of saying they were leaving.

Before they can get away though, you turn to look at your son still standing in the yard, observing as usual.

"Oh, wait. Choso, come say goodbye to Yuji and his uncle."

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not proofread

I hope you guys enjoy how i incorporated Choso! For my ideas with this lil story, I think this dynamic will be fun to write and work with :) In my au, Yuji is 6 and Choso is about 8.

[kaivenom]

Since February 9th is my birthday I got an idea, how about what one piece dilfs do on your birthday?

What the OP Dilfs do on your birthday

Characters: Doflamingo, Mihawk, Crocodile, Smoker, Shanks

A/N: oowwwww, happy birthdayyyy, i am so glad that you asked me for this.

Masterlist

Dracule Mihawk

He prefers a rather small event, just him and you, maybe Perona and even Zoro if he can.

But if you want a party with other people, then he would try to tolerate other peoples presence.

Picture this: the backyard of your families house, all with balloons, food and all your relatives from all ages.

Then Mihawk with a glass of wine having to stand children and annoying aunts.

When you didn't found him anywhere, you searched for him and found him with your grandma (or another old female relative) gossiping.

When you left the house and finally are alone, he finally gave you your gift... probably jewelry.

Donquixote Doflamingo

He doesn't make it an official holiday but every one takes it like that cause there is a parade all over the city.

Like a Valentine's day 2.0

Privately he does a big feast on the castle and it's the only time you got to sit on the throne (and not his lap).

Like he says "You are the queen for the day"

He even orders some people to do humilliating things to make you laugh, but you have to stop him and reassure him that you just need to be with him on the moment.

Every one of the crew was invited to the party which means that Doflamingo ordered them the exact gift they have to get you, so you can have everything you want.

Baby 5 told you his plan so you went to thank him for the party and for being so sweet and lovely, at least for your special day.

Sr. Crocodile

A surprise trip, to anywhere you want like... you woke up and he asked you were you wanted to go, you said and hours later there you are.

You went to all the sites you wanted and he even ordered some fireworks for midnight.

He reserved on your favourite restaurant and he even "asked" (he literally threatened their families) to do your favourite cake.

Of course, all the things you've been wanting since christmas, he got them from you.

In the case the trip couldn't be made cause you already had plans with friends and family, expect him to celebrate before you go and wait for you to continue celebrating.

He understands that you can share your time with other people and he won't interfere but he absolutely would use all the other time you had.

Quality time and gifts are his love language so expect that a lot.

Smoker

You both go a day out at work for personal affairs.

He mades you breakfast and put it on the bed, this day, you are the only thing on his life.

You do everything you want this day: a picnic? done, a fancy restaurant? movies and popcorn?

All of it? also yes.

He even tries to cook himself a birthday cake but the attend gets so bad that you had to help him.

He is reticent about it but when you suggested him that this is the perfect couple birthday activity, he accepted.

The ussual movie flour fight type of thing, but you ended up doing the dessert and you finally made your wish.

But there is no better wish than to have spent the day with him.

Akagami Shanks

You are free from all your responsabilities on the ship.

You are the first to be served on lunch and everyone left you alone to be at peace.

More than that the day went awfully normal, even with Shanks, you started to even feel crazy cause nobody even said "good birthday" but they clearly know due to their behaviour.

Then Shanks ordered to arrive on an island without warning, was almost night so you decided to go to your room, a little sad about the day.

So, half an hour later, Shanks lifted you up and forced you outside, to the night, and you saw how they had prepared a surprise party.

You almost slapped all of them for the secretism but you know you have a soft spot for these idiots.

Food, alcohol and cake passed among everyone and lasted all night.

Shanks took the moment when they all were drunk to be more affectionate and attentive with you, showing you how much love he was acumulating all day for the brithday girl

[acmeangel]

♡ Levi visits your tea shop, and over time, your relationship turns from strangers to having your own little family. But, will the war tear him away from you?...

♡ NSFW, minors DNI ♡ Canon!Levi x Female!Reader ♡ Also features Postwar!Levi ♡ One shot, a mix of fluffy & angsty ♡ Word count: 8,061 ♡ Summary: Levi had been visiting your tea shop for a while, and while he didn't say much, your young son idolized Humanity's Strongest Soldier. You were a single mom, a widow, and it made your happy to see your son so excited. Over time, Levi began to talk to you more and more, until a romance sparked. He'd grown to love you and your son, but after marriage and another baby, the situation within Eldia grows darker, the Rumbling on the horizon. During the chaos, you don't know where Levi has gone -- will you two ever reunite?

Levi had always been quiet when he stopped by your tea shop in Trost. It wasn't often that he paid a visit — his focus was usually fused to the Survey Corps — but he couldn't resist the specific blend of black tea leaves that your shop carried. He'd muttered dryly before that yours was the only cup of black tea that didn't "taste like it'd been diluted in sewer water."

His visits had become predictable. He’d slip into the shop with soundless steps, order his tea with the fewest amount of words possible, toss some coins onto the counter (always including a tip), then sit at a table by the window and sip his tea, his gaze drawn to some far-off distance outside. When he'd leave, he'd always bring his tea cup back to the counter with a dull clink and leave his table as clean as it was when he'd arrived, the chair pushed into it. And that would be that.

You never disturbed his quiet — you figured that with him being a Captain in the Survey Corps, surely he'd come to your shop craving a scarce brief moment of peace and solace.

Your small, six-year-old son, however, had taken on his dad's exuberant and excitable nature, rather than your reserved one. It was one of the things you adored most about your son; it felt, to you, like the spirit of your late husband had planted a little seed within your son, like a small blossom that was finally beginning to bloom.

The way your son laughed with his head thrown back and eyes shut, the way his eyes widened and sparkled when he'd ramble on about whatever new hobby he was interested in (much like his father, he could never settle on just one thing), the way his small hands would fly through the air when he spoke — it was all him, your first and only true love.

It was four years ago, now, that your husband had passed unexpectedly. Your son was only two years old at the time, and as the years went on, you could tell that he was remembering less and less about his father. The weight on your shoulders grew heavier as it felt like it was up to you, solely, to keep his memory alive and treasured.

Even though you were still young, you’d sworn yourself to a life devoid of romantic love. You couldn’t fathom ever falling for someone new; nor could you imagine someone else ever understanding you or loving you the way that he had. A life of just you and your son, together, was all you’d ever need.

So, when Levi would stop by your tea shop, your son would act just as lively and uninhibited as your husband would have.

"Mommy, mommy." His little, pudgy hand would tug on the sleeve of your shirt as he looked up at you with big saucers for eyes. "It's Humanity's Strongest Soldier. He's back, he's back!"

"I know, darling," you'd coo, your hand stroking your son's hair to try and calm him as Levi walked through the door. "Be polite. Don't disturb him."

Trying to wrangle your son's enthusiasm always proved impossible. He’d climb up onto the counter — which you'd told him countless times not to do — so that he could get a better view of the fearless Captain.

"Captain Levi." He'd smile widely, revealing missing front teeth, as he beamed at Levi. "Did you just come back from a mission? What was it? How many Titans did you kill?"

Levi would always frown at this — not because he didn't like your son, but because he didn't like being idolized for being violent. His life was one he wouldn't wish upon anyone, and he didn't want the kids in town to look up to him, or anyone else in the Scouts.

"Hey." You'd shoot your son a stern look. "Enough questions, don't be rude."

"Don't worry about it," Levi would say, dryly, his tired eyes drifting from your son back to you. "Black tea. The usual kind."

"Sure." You'd nod and smile softly, your eyes catching his for a brief, but lingering moment, stuck in their depths — those eyes that always reminded you of the night sky during a storm, swirling and tumultuous.

You'd make Levi his tea and hand it to him, which would earn the faintest "Thanks, Y/N" before he'd take his seat by the window. Occasionally, your son would sneak over to him and ask him question after question, his small hands gripped onto the edge of the table, until you'd notice and lift him up, carrying him away with an apologetic look toward Levi.

Once Levi would leave, your son would blabber to you for the next day or so about how "strong" and "brave" Levi is, to which you'd nod along, appeasing him, your lips tugging into a smile now and then, happy to see your son so excited.

That was how Levi's visits to your shop had always gone, for months on end; it was a predictable routine.

That was, until one day, as he was ordering his usual black tea, you'd interrupted him. Usually, you’d be too busy trying to reign in your son to really talk to Levi, but Levi had visited earlier than usual that day, and your son was still at school. 

"I actually just got a shipment of a new tea," you'd said, your eyes meeting his, a flicker of curiosity in your gaze. "It's rooibos tea. Similar to black tea. You might like it?"

A crease formed between his brow as he studied your face for a moment, taken aback by both your offering and your consideration of his tastes.

"Fine," he nodded, curtly. "I'll try it."

Your lips turned upward with slight surprise before forming a full smile, as you began brewing his tea. You handed it to him moments later, in an ornate ceramic teacup painted with simple lines and wavy vines, which he grabbed from you by the rim. 

He took a sip from it while still standing at the counter, not waiting to sit down, as if wanting to test it before committing the next half-hour or so to sipping it. As he took his long, slow sip, his eyes didn’t leave your face once, his narrowed, somewhat unenthused gaze piercing into you. 

“It’s good,” he said, finally, lowering the cup from his lips. “Thanks, Y/N.” He fished around his pocket for a few coins, which he placed down on the counter as always. 

He turned away to head for his table by the window, but paused for a moment, his lips pressing together slightly as he examined the teacup more closely. 

“Where’d you get this set?” he asked, the tone of his voice revealing nothing, as he turned to face you again.

“Oh,” you tilted your head as you tried to remember, caught off guard by the question. “I don’t remember exactly, but most of the tea sets are from a shop just down the street.”

“Hm.” He nodded slowly, his eyes still fixated on the teacup, his fingers gently tracing over the designs. “It just reminds me of one from when I was a kid.”

With that, he shook his head as if ridding his mind of the memory, and made his way to sit at the table, his head turned out the window. You couldn’t help but stare for a moment, noticing the way his fingers tapped the rim of the teacup, how the afternoon light settled onto his face, making his pale complexion look warmer, more amiable. A silence settled into the tea shop, only interrupted by the occasional bubbling of boiling water and the clanging of teapots and cups. 

“It was my mother’s tea set,” he stated, plainly, seemingly out of nowhere. The sound of his voice drew your attention, but when you looked over at him, he was still staring out the window; only the curve of his cheek and the angle of his jawline were visible to you.

You approached him, slowly, lingering by the table, your hands clasped behind your back. 

“Your mother?” you inquired, your tone gentle and inviting, as you moved a bit closer. “Are you close with her, then?” 

“No,” his voice dropped low, scarcely above a whisper. “She’s dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you offered, which earned only a subtle nod from Levi. You paused for a beat before continuing. “It seems like your mother and my husband have similar tastes. He’s the one who picked that set out. He liked the vines.” 

His head turned toward you, a raise to his eyebrow as he looked up at you, warily. “Husband, huh? What, he doesn’t help you out around here?”

“He used to,” you sighed softly, before adding, “he passed a few years ago.”

His eyes flickered with a brief awareness before meeting your gaze, a look of mutual understanding passing between you two. 

“Sorry to hear that,” he said, echoing your sentiment. 

“Thanks,” you said, and decided to sit down in the chair across from him at the table. “That’s actually the last teacup still fully intact from that set. I dropped the box it was in during a move a couple years ago.” 

“Oh, yeah?” He glanced down at the teacup, turning it in his hand. 

“Mmm.” You nodded. “But, have you heard of this concept called kintsugi?” 

He shook his head, bringing his eyes back up to yours, waiting for you to explain.

“It’s this art form,” you began, “where you take broken pottery or ceramics and repair them by putting the pieces back together using gold lacquer. So you can still tell that the item is broken, and it doesn’t look the same as it originally did, but it doesn’t matter. Because now, it’s this new, exquisite golden thing, even though its brokenness is obvious. Anyway, that’s how I repaired the other pieces from the set.”

You nodded toward a shelf behind the counter, which held the rest of the tea set; teacups and a teapot, repaired with gold shimmering in the cracks between all of the broken pieces. 

“Hm,” he nodded slowly with approval, the sides of his mouth slowly moving upward into a small smile.   

Your relationship with Levi had truly started there — with a shared understanding of loss, brokenness, and grief. Each time he visited your tea shop, which had become more frequent, he’d share a little bit more about himself and his past. It usually wasn’t much, and you’d often have to fill in the blanks and read between the lines, but you could tell that he actually trusted you with this information and, at least, felt assured that you’d understand him. 

Over time, the conversations would last a little bit longer and expand into topics outside of your shared losses; you’d tell him about your son, stories about interesting customers who had stopped by, memories about your childhood and your family. He’d share, too, usually anecdotes about his life in the Survey Corps, telling you about the “brats” he spent his days with, griping about their individual personalities with a fond sort of annoyance. 

The romantic aspect of your relationship trickled in slowly — it began with the time Levi had reached across the table and placed his hand onto yours without a word or a change in his expression. And from there, it evolved into these subdued touches here and there; a hand on the small of your back, him fixing an out-of-place strand of hair when you’d wear it pulled back, his leg brushing against yours under the table and not pulling away. 

The first time he’d kissed you, he’d been staring at your lips for almost the entire time you had been talking that day, as if magnetized to them. 

“Levi,” you’d said, finally, a slight exasperation in your voice. “Either stop staring at my lips or do something about it.”

His expression faltered and an actual blush rose to his cheeks, as if he didn’t realize you’d actually be able to notice his staring. But, it was just the push he needed, because he then leaned over the table, cupped his hand onto the side of your face, and planted a soft, but firm, kiss onto your lips. 

“Is that what you had in mind?” he asked, pulling back slightly, his lips still almost touching yours as he searched your eyes. 

“Yes,” you whispered, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his once again. That kiss was all it took; from there, you were in. And he was, too. 

As your relationship continued to flourish, he’d started visiting you at home, not just at the tea shop. He’d sit with you on your couch, running his fingers through your hair as the two of you caught up with each other. He’d help you out with all of the tasks that he knew were a burden on your shoulders with all you juggled, between raising your son and running the tea shop. He’d even started to warm up to your son and made an effort to talk to him, albeit somewhat awkwardly at first. Your son, however, didn’t notice any discomfort from Levi — he was just thrilled to have Humanity’s Strongest Soldier in his house. 

When Levi had actually gone with you and your son to visit your husband’s grave on his birthday — a supportive, nonintrusive gesture — and had placed a simple bundle of flowers on his gravestone, you knew that there was something different about him. Something worth keeping around in your life for a long time. He understood you and all of the complexities and brokenness that came with you; he had his fair share of his own. You realized that, together, maybe you could become whole again. 

Levi was nothing like how your husband was; and, in turn, the love you experienced with him was completely different. It was slower, softer, subtler. It was exactly what you didn't realize you'd needed — something tender and gentle to begin mending your once-broken heart. Levi, without even trying, had put the pieces of you back together in a way that was completely new. You'd been changed forever, and for once, it didn't feel like such a bad thing.

So, when he asked you to marry him, he did it in a way that was just as soft and subtle. You were sitting on the floor of your living room — a humble, but cozy space — playing with your son, who always had a way of coming up with the most elaborate pretend plots.

Levi followed along the best he could, occasionally asking a clarifying question to your son, his brows pressed together in serious contemplation. Your son would provide an equally as serious answer, explaining, in depth, the inner workings and rules of his pretend world.

During a moment of quiet, while your son rummaged around a chest for different toys to play with, Levi had simply looked at you, his usual armor cracking to reveal an honest vulnerability, and said, "I could get used to a life like this. With you. Both of you."

Your lips curved up into a smile and you tilted your head, your expression melting at his words. "I think that can be arranged."

"Think you'd consider marrying someone like me, Y/N?" The corners of his lips twitched, the smallest, self-deprecating smile on his face.

"Yes," you'd said, quickly, without even having to think about it. It was one of the easiest decisions of your life. "I won't just consider it. I'll do it. Happily."

Your son interrupted the tender moment, handing new toys to you and Levi, explaining the new, complicated rules of the next game you were about to play together. Levi listened intently, but his gaze caught yours for a moment, a knowing, affectionate glance exchanged between the two of you.

Your wedding was a simple one. You knew that Levi didn't care much for having a ceremony at all to begin with — if it were entirely up to him, you'd have forgone the whole ordeal. But, for you, he was willing to do just about anything (though he drew the line at dancing).

Between your collective eagerness to get married and Levi's unpredictable and hectic life with the Scouts, you didn't spend too much time or energy planning the wedding; fussing over the details and frills didn't matter much to either of you, as long as you got to be together by the end of it.

You'd invited only your closest family and friends, and kept the ceremony brief, exchanging simple vows. The only thing you'd cared about was the look on Levi's face when he saw you, in your simple, elegant white dress, carrying a bouquet of wildflowers, walking down the aisle toward him; he smiled a soft smile, his jaw clenching with emotion, his eyes focused on you with such intense reverence, it was as if nothing in the universe existed apart from you.

For most of the reception, Levi had sat at your table, observing as you laughed and talked with all of the guests; he was content just from seeing you glowing with happiness.

You'd convinced him, halfway through the night, to dance with you to a slower song; begrudgingly, and unable to say no to you, he obliged. You could sense the discomfort on his face as his eyes darted around the room as the two of you swayed to the music, feeling the eyes of the guests burning into him.

"Levi," you whispered, low enough so only he could hear. "Close your eyes. Pretend it's just you and me."

He nodded, and closed his eyes, his head resting onto your shoulder as his movements became smoother, more fluid. He sighed softly, holding you close, lost in your touch.

By the end of the night, your son had crashed after eating too much cake; he was curled up, asleep, with one of his grandparents. Fortunately for you and Levi, they'd offered to watch your son for the night to give you and Levi the alone time you'd so desperately been wanting.

You and Levi were sitting at your table, watching your guests move around the dance floor, your head rested on his shoulder while you absently scraped the frosting off of your plate.

"What do you say we get out of here?" Levi asked you, his lips pressed to your hair, with the slight raise of an eyebrow. "Don't think anyone will miss us too much. They're having too good of a time without us."

You giggled, rolling your eyes affectionately. "I knew you'd want to leave early," you whispered softly, knowingly. "But lucky for you, so do I."

Levi practically whisked you away the moment you finished your sentence. By the time you'd returned to your house, you were cradled into his arms as he kicked open your bedroom door, the room shrouded in the ethereal glow of moonlight.

"Levi," you laughed, as he hastily moved toward the bed, gently laying you down onto it, "slow down, relax."

"I can't," he replied, as he stood next to the bed, looking down at you, in awe at the sight of you in your wedding dress, your hair cascaded onto the bed below you, your delicate face becoming angelic in the pale purple moonlight. You were officially his forever. He released a quiet, adoring sigh as your hand trailed up his forearm, pulling him down onto you. His body settled onto yours, fitting together perfectly, his eyes taking in every inch of your face before his head dipped to the crook of your neck.

"Hey," he whispered, his lips brushing up your neck to your ear, his hands moving up your thighs under your dress, his touch worshipping your skin. "I didn't want to say my real vows in front of everyone. They didn't need to hear that. It's just for you. So, Y/N, here's what I promise you. I promise that I will love you until my last breath, and I'll protect you, no matter what it takes. Nothing will ever happen to you as long as I'm alive. I promise to always come back to you, no matter where duty takes me. I promise to love your son as if he were my own. You're it, Y/N. You're the light in my darkness, the only thing I'm sure of, the reason I've even still got a heart left at all. Don't ever forget that."

Your throat constricted as he spoke, trapping all of the words you wanted to say back to him, your mind lost between his loving whispers and the feel of his hands pressing against your skin.

"Levi," you managed to whisper, the word coming out as a shallow, wanting breath.

His lips pressed onto your neck, kissing and nipping at your tender, sensitive skin.

"You don't need to say anything," he whispered, low and husky, the words muffled against your neck. "Just be with me."

It was all he ever asked for, really — these moments alone with you. And because they happened more seldom than he'd wanted, he savored every second. He’d committed every detail of you to his memory, etched into his mind permanently: the individual flecks of colors in your eyes, the varying sounds and tones of your voice, each and every one of your idiosyncrasies and mannerisms.

His hands moved further up your thighs, his thumbs tracing over the scalloped edges of your soft lace panties. Your breath hitched, your hips instinctively pushing upward into his touch. His hands slid away, not quite to tease you, but because he was in no rush.

He lifted his head from your neck to look at you, his gaze attentive as it moved from your eyes to the curve of your cheek, to your lips and down the slope of your neck and shoulder. His hands moved out from under your dress to your shoulders, slowly pulling down the sleeves of your wedding dress.

"I love you," you whispered — you couldn't help it. You'd have said it a thousand times in that one moment, if you could've.

His hands paused their movements for a moment, his eyes crawling back up to yours, all of the tension in his face completely released.

"I love you too, Y/N," he whispered back, his voice barely audible over the sound of your beating hearts, as his lips lowered down onto yours.

He kissed you like he needed you as much as he needed air to breathe. His lips molded perfectly to yours, his teeth gently tugging onto your bottom lip before diving in deeper, his tongue sweeping out to taste yours.

His hands continued sliding off your dress, his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he did, leaving sparks in their wake; once the dress fell softly to the floor by the bed, his hands worked their way across every inch of your body, showering attention onto every curve.

His kiss became hungrier, strands of his hair brushing against your forehead as a groan formed in the back of his throat.

Your hands rose to his shoulders, pushing off the jacket of his tuxedo before working to unbutton his shirt, tossing it to the side. Your hands traced over his muscles as they moved and flexed; your fingers affectionately grazed over the familiar scars and bruises that decorated his body.

A subtle gasp fell from his lips, captured by yours, as his hands trailed down your waist to your hips, once again resting on the soft fabric of your panties.

"God," he murmured, breaking the kiss for a brief moment, just to tilt his head down and look at your body beneath his, "you're so fucking beautiful."

His fingers tugged at the hem of your panties before sliding them underneath, between your folds, feeling the warmth and wetness that met him there.

Your head tilted back slightly and you bit your lower lip, breathing out sharply from your nose. His eyes snapped back up to your face as his fingers began to tease your slit, running up and down it before circling your clit with a gentle pressure.

You gasped softly, a low moan building within you, your eyes shutting with pleasure. You weren't sure how he did it, but even the simplest touch from him made you fall apart.

"Good," he whispered, reveling in how eagerly you responded to his touch. He increased his pressure on your nub, his thumb circling it as two of his fingers slipped inside of you with ease, earning a loud whimper from you.

His fingers pumped in and out of you, curling up against your most sensitive spot, his thumb remaining pressed against your clit as he coaxed pleasured moans from you. As your thighs began to shake, a familiar spark building up within your core, his free hand grasped onto your hip, steadying you, as he increased the pace and intensity of his fingers.

Your hands reached out, grasping for his shoulders as your body began to tense, the release building intensely within you, on the verge of exploding.

"Come undone for me," he whispered, his fingers pumping into you with untethered force, your juices coating and squelching against his hand. And you did — your walls clenched around his fingers as you poured out pleasure. Your back arched upward, your legs shook uncontrollably, and your fingers dug into his shoulders as you cried out, a ragged, gasping whimper, too strained with pleasure to make a real sound.

His fingers remained buried within you as you rode through the waves of release, only pulling out of you once your back settled back onto the bed. Before you could open your mouth to say a word, his hands had already pulled his own pants off, his hardened length springing free, pretty and pink.

"C'mere," he muttered, his hands sliding under your waist to gently pull you upright. He hoisted you onto his lap, your bare chest pressed to his, the warmth of your skin emanating into each other. His hands crawled up your back then gently around your neck, his thumb rubbing gently across your throat, then up to your lips.

"Levi," you whispered, muffled under the pressure of his thumb, your eyes locking onto his, strands of your hair stuck to your forehead with sweat. "Show me how much you love me. As your wife."

"My wife," he echoed, as if the words were the most decadent thing that had ever been on his tongue. His hands moved down to grip onto your hips, bringing your legs around him as you sat in his lap.

He lifted your hips up, pausing for a moment to meet your gaze before slowly lowering you down onto his cock, a soft groan parting his lips.

Your head tilted to the side as he filled you up, stretching out your walls completely. His head dipped to your chest, kissing your skin as he began to thrust, slowly and sensually, your hips moving in perfect harmony with his.

His fingers sprawled across your hips as he guided your motions as you rode him, his tongue and lips devouring your skin, moving between your nipples, sucking and tugging on them. Your hands gripped into his hair, causing him to growl faintly.

His eyes closed and he panted softly as he pushed your hips down onto his with increasing intensity, your clit pressing down onto his skin with each thrust, causing you to moan and writhe against him.

"Fuck," he panted, his grip on your hips tightening as he picked up the pace, practically slamming your hips down onto him, the muscles in his arms tense and rippling.

"L-Levi, I'm- I'm," you moaned, swallowing as your body began to reach its second climax, still sensitive from the first one, your hands slipping from his hair to wrap tightly around his back as your legs began to shake again.

He groaned, a low, primal sound, as he held your hips in place and pounded up into you with unrelenting movements, sending you spiraling over the edge. Your head collapsed into his neck, your moans and cries quieted against his skin, your teeth grazing his skin.

"Y/N," he moaned, a strained sound as he thrust into you one final time, his knuckles turning white as they held onto your hips, as he poured out deep inside of you.

He collapsed back onto the bed, bringing you gently down with him. One of his hands cradled the back of your head as you rested it on his chest, the other tracing patterns across your back, his touch soothing.

"My wife," he murmured, satisfied, his chest heaving with exertion and his body glimmering with little beads of sweat that looked like stars under the moonlight.

For the following year, that was how you'd spent most of your nights with Levi, when he had the chance to come see you between missions and duties.

He'd spend the first part of evenings with you and your son, listening intently to whatever new hobby or interest your son wanted to talk about, and playing with him on the living room floor or out in the yard. Levi would lean against the doorway as you'd tuck your son into bed, listening in with a tender expression as you read a bedtime story.

It didn't take long for your son to grow attached to Levi, and not just as Humanity's Strongest Soldier. The first time he'd asked Levi to read his bedtime story instead of you, Levi had stood frozen for a moment, blinking as he processed the question.

He'd cleared his throat slightly and nodded, his movements a little stiff as he pushed off the doorway and took the storybook from you, sitting down on the edge of your son's bed. He'd studied the page of the book for a moment before beginning to read, your son's eyes watching him with wonder and adoration. As Levi continued reading, he became more relaxed, the crease between his brow fading away, the words flowing more smoothly.

About halfway through the story, your son had drifted asleep, the sign of a job well done. Levi's lips curved into a small smile, and he nodded, contentedly. From then on, your son requested bedtime stories from Levi every time he visited.

And after your son was fast asleep each night, Levi would wrap his arm around your waist and pull you to your bedroom to show you just how much he loved his wife.

It wasn't much of a surprise, really, when you'd found out you were pregnant shortly after. When you'd told Levi during his next visit, you weren't sure how he'd react — he was away often and you hadn't exactly planned for a baby yet. You also knew that he'd had a troubled childhood and had never had a real father figure; he never seemed sure that he was doing the right thing when it came to your son. The danger and uncertainty of the world around you and his position as Captain only added to his inner doubts about whether he'd make a capable father or be any good, or worthy, at being a proper role model for anyone, let alone a child.

But as he'd spent more and more time with your son, he'd grown used to the idea of having a kid around — and actually even it. As he became more comfortable in his role in your son's life, he'd begun telling your son more stories about his life, trying to guide him and teach him lessons to keep him on the right track (and prevent him from a life of fighting and violence).

So, when you told him that you were pregnant, it was like you saw a spark of life ignite within his eyes as he scooped you up into his arms and buried his face into your neck. He didn't have to say it — he was happy.

Throughout your pregnancy, Levi tried to visit you more often to take care of you; he hated the thought of you doing absolutely anything alone while you were carrying your baby. When he was around, he barely let you so much as stand on your own.

He'd handle all the caretaking when it came to your son, he'd deep clean your house so you wouldn't have to worry about it, and he'd bring you endless cups of tea. He'd forced you to hire someone else to take over your tea shop temporarily, practically begging you when it came down to it, insisting that standing on your feet all day wasn't good for you or the baby.

After nine months of Levi sternly doting on you, your baby finally arrived. Levi made sure that he didn't miss this moment, shirking his duties and obligations for the first time since you'd known him.

"If they can't function without me for a day, those brats are more pathetic than I thought," he'd grumbled as he held your hand while you laid on the bed, after you'd asked him for the hundredth time if it was okay for him to be there, sweat sticking to your skin after coming down from your latest contraction.

"Now stop asking," he'd added, "None of that is important. This is all that matters." He squeezed your hand, reassuringly.

When the baby finally came, and the doctor announced that it was a little girl, Levi's shoulders tensed slightly, as if he hadn't considered the possibility of having a daughter. When the doctor wrapped her into a tiny bundle and handed her to Levi, he took her into his arms with a hold so hesitant and delicate, like he thought he might break her if he held on even a little bit too tight.

"Oh," he whispered, his eyes darting all over her face, taking in her pouty lips, scrunched nose, full cheeks, and barely-opened blue-gray eyes. His jaw clenched and unclenched over and over, the vein in his forehead becoming visible as his eyes welled with tears. He blinked repeatedly, causing the tears to stream down his face.

"What the hell?" he whispered, a subtle tone of disbelief in his voice as he glanced down at you, blinking repeatedly, seemingly bewildered by the tears on his cheeks. "Is this normal?"

You laughed affectionately, nodding gently. "Yes, Levi. It's normal."

"Ah," he nodded, swallowing, his misty eyes returning down to his baby daughter, fixating on her little face so intensely, you weren't sure if he was ever going to look away again. His hand, with the slowest movement possible, reached up to her face, his finger brushing against her soft, delicate cheek. You were sure in that moment that nothing, nothing would ever come between Levi and his baby girl.

The first year after your daughter was born were as blissful as they could have been. Levi had continued making sure to spend more time away from the Scouts, as much as he possibly could, to be with you, your son, and his brand new baby girl.

When Levi couldn’t be around, you weren’t entirely alone to take care of the baby. Your son, who now claimed to be grown up at the age of seven, claimed that he was the “second in command” man of the house. He’d mimic Levi in the way he walked around the house, the specific way he would hold his little sister, and even in the way he’d hold a bottle or spoon while feeding her. Most recently, your son had even insisted on getting the same haircut as Levi (though he hadn’t yet gotten used to having strands of hair falling in front of his eyes).

And when Levi was there, he’d practically never let his daughter out of his grasp. At every meal, he’d prop her onto his lap and feed her little bites of food that she could eat (he figured it had to taste better than the baby food he called “mushed crap”). When he’d unwind on the couch with a cup of tea or a book, he’d have her held to his shoulder, her little head tucked against his neck. Overnight, when she’d cry, he’d always jump out of bed first to go tend to her — and he’d stay with her long after she was settled back to sleep, simply holding her or watching over her crib. He’d even willingly handle her most rancid of diapers — he claimed that he’d spent so much time around horse shit and Titan carnage that it didn’t bother him, and his need for cleanliness always left her perfectly spotless and cared for.

Even with his overprotective, doting behavior with his daughter, it was never like he neglected you or your son when he was around. When the baby would be napping, or when you’d finally take her for a change, he’d spend every other moment either sitting by you and holding your hand, or playing with your son.

Your little family had just fallen into this quasi-routine when Levi’s visits started to become more infrequent — the situation within the Survey Corps had grown more dire, and though Levi spared you of the details to not worry you, you knew that something terrible was waiting on the horizon. He’d become a bit more tense and distant with each of his visits, though you could tell he was trying to suppress it for the sake of you and the children. 

Eventually, once it had been weeks since Levi had last visited, you began to worry, bordering on panic. You’d tried to calm yourself, reminding yourself that Levi was busy and that his missions were unpredictable — you’d tell yourself that he was likely just on a mission that was taking longer than usual. 

When your son would ask you when Levi was coming home next, or your toddler daughter would babble about wanting “Dada,” you’d field their questions with reassuring platitudes about Levi’s importance as Captain and his strength and resilience. But as the weeks continued to stretch on without so much as a letter from Levi, there was nothing you could say anymore to soothe their worries or yours. 

You’d tuck each of the children into bed at night, soothing them to sleep with gentle words, promising them that Levi would surely be home soon, even though you knew that your son, at least, was beginning to not believe you. Your daughter was easier to manage in terms of worries, but you feared that if Levi stayed away too long, she’d begin to forget him. 

Once the children were safe and sound in bed, you’d stay awake, standing at your bedroom window, staring into the night as if you would bring Levi back to your doorstep with sheer need and willpower. But, he never returned. When the thought that Levi might actually be dead entered your mind, you pushed it away immediately; you couldn’t bear to think that way for even a second, let alone say the words out loud. You knew that Levi’s work was dangerous, and you knew that ever since Marley came into the picture, things for him had become more complicated and precarious than ever. You knew about what Eren had done to Marley, and you knew about the Jaegerists, and you knew that Levi was mixed up in all of it. Still, you refused to acknowledge that something deadly could really have happened to him. 

As the weeks stretched into months, you’d forced yourself to maintain a calm face and strong exterior for the sake of the children. They’d both crawl up into your lap each night, looking up at you, as if your eyes would reveal answers as to where Levi had gone and why he wasn’t coming back. 

You’d look down into the big, sparkling eyes of your children, a look that both warmed and broke your heart; you saw both of your loves, your first and Levi, looking back up at you.

You thought to yourself, as your heart shattered in your chest, Is this my life? Destined to carry the hearts and spirits of people I love, without ever getting to truly be with them?

When The Rumbling began, you couldn’t believe that it was actually happening — that all of humanity, aside from Eldia, could be wiped out, the world flattened. You tried your best to steel yourself from the fear and devastation that coursed through your veins and consumed your every thought, trying to protect the children from the cruel reality and danger that loomed outside. You’d forced them to stay inside the house with you the entire time, and you held them close, trying to distract them in any way that you could, while your mind drifted to thoughts of Levi.

You knew that if Levi was out there, somewhere, he’d surely be in the frontlines of this impossible battle to stop The Rumbling; you knew that he was in grave danger, more than ever before, more than you’d ever thought was possible. The situation was grim and futile, but you knew that Levi wasn’t one to give up or back down — he’d lost too many comrades, seen too many sacrifices to quit at the final moment and let all of their deaths have been in vain. You knew he’d sacrifice his own life if it came down to it, and that thought terrified you more than anything else. 

When The Rumbling had eventually ended, it wasn’t clear what, exactly, had happened — you’d heard too many conflicting rumors and theories about who was there and who had survived, that you didn’t want to believe anything too quickly. As Eldia, hesitantly, became safe again, you waited, still, for Levi to come home, but he still hadn’t. You forced yourself to continue being patient, to not give up hope; most of the other Scouts still hadn’t returned yet, you reminded yourself. 

As the weeks continued to pass, Eldia began to return, bit by bit, to a state resembling normalcy; far from recovered, but relieved that the war was finally, officially over. 

“Does this mean Levi is coming home now?” your son had asked you, his eyes filling with hope, a smile daring to form on his face. 

You swallowed, hard, trying to maintain composure. “I don’t know, sweetheart,” you admitted, bringing your son into a tight hug. “I hope so. We’ll see, okay?”

Weeks later, when there was a knock at your door and you opened it to reveal a man you’d never seen before, wearing a plain black suit, you weren’t sure what to expect. You cracked the door open, just barely, as your kids scurried up behind you to see who was there, your son hovering behind you and your toddler clinging onto your leg. 

“Uh, hi,” you greeted him, a look of uncertainty on your face. “Can I help you?”

“You’re Y/N, right?” he asked, his voice soft and kind as he double-checked the address of your house and glanced down at the children hiding behind you. “I’m Onyankopon. I’m a pilot, and I’ve been helping out with the Scouts for a while.”

Your eyes widened at the mention of the Scouts, your heart racing in your chest as you prepared yourself for anything — good news or bad. 

“Yes,” you answered hastily, “I’m Y/N. Is it Levi? What happened? Is he okay?”

Onyankopon held his hands up, palms facing you in a soothing gesture. “Levi’s fine. He’s alive, Y/N.”

You gasped, your hand flying up to your mouth in shock as your body began to tremble slightly, unable to process the emotions that swirled through your mind and the intense relief that threatened to pour from your eyes. 

“He- He’s alive? L-Levi’s okay? Really?” you asked, your voice struggling to get the words out, your vision blurring with tears. 

“Where is he?” your son asked, urgently, his head poking forward to look up at Onyankopon. 

“He’s in Marley,” Onyankopon said slowly and calmly, trying not to overload you with information. “That’s why I’m here, actually. He sent me here to come and get you. He…,” he paused for a moment, contemplating how much to reveal, “needed my help with it.”

You didn’t waste any time; the prospect of seeing Levi again, finally, after all the time and uncertainty, was enough to set you into motion immediately. You gathered the few belongings that you and your kids needed, and you were out the door immediately, hurriedly following behind Onyankopon. 

A short journey later, you’d arrived in Marley — you were too focused on the thought of Levi to gawk and stare at the unfamiliar sights of the city that normally would’ve left you awestruck, even through the destruction and rubble surrounding you. Your gaze remained intently fixated on Onyankopon as he guided you through the hectic streets, before you approached a somewhat damaged building. Onyankopon led you down the winding hallways, before opening the doors to one of the rooms and stepping aside, revealing Levi inside, his back turned to the door. 

“Levi,” Onyankopon said, “we’re here.” 

Levi’s head snapped around, and your eyes widened as you saw the state of him, wondering what injuries he had endured — the wheelchair, his glazed-over white eye, the fresh scars on his face, the missing fingers — but you didn’t care. He was there, he was alive, he didn’t seem to be in any pain, and he was just as beautiful as you’d remembered him. Nothing else mattered in that moment; everything else could wait until later. 

Before you could manage to get a word out, or shake off the shock of seeing him, your son ran over to him first, propelled by urgent eagerness and relief. 

“I missed you, Dad,” your son said, his eyes shutting as he wrapped his arms around Levi — it was the first time he’d ever referred to Levi as ‘Dad.’ Levi’s eyes snapped up to you, misty and glistening, his throat tightening slightly. You nodded, a tender, encouraging motion as you walked over with your daughter in your arms, your heart swelling with warmth and affection. 

“I missed you too, son,” Levi said, his voice rough with feeling as he returned your son’s hug, his arms trembling faintly, his hand ruffling his hair. As your son released Levi, Levi kept an arm on his back, a subtle, reassuring touch. 

Your daughter extended her arms out to Levi as you got closer, babbling, as you set her down into Levi’s lap. Her tiny hands gripped onto his shirt and she looked up at him, smiling and giggling.  

“She’s not… scared… to see me like this,” he whispered with disbelief, his expression softening even further as he gazed into his daughter’s eyes, seeing nothing but love and affection looking back at him. 

As your daughter nuzzled her head into his neck, as she always did, you knelt down next to him, your lips and hands trembling slightly as you took a long, close look at him. 

“Levi,” you choked out, your hands rising to his face, cradling it gently, your fingers gently resting on his new scars. Your eyes locked into each other, filled with unspoken emotion and relief. 

“Y/N,” he echoed, his head tilting into your touch, his brows twitching involuntarily as he became overwhelmed at the sight of you and the feeling of your soft, warm hands touching him. Your thumbs swept under his eyes, absorbing the few tears that had broken free from his eyes. 

You leaned in and kissed him softly and gently, your lips returning to where they were meant to be — against his. He released a shuddering breath that melted against your lips, the fear and worry that had consumed you both for so long dissipating into the air. 

“Thank God you’re all alright,” he whispered as he broke the kiss, his voice fraught with emotion as he extended his arms out and pulled the three of you close to him. “My family.”

As you buried your face into Levi’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin at last, your mind, inexplicably, went to the broken tea set on the shelf in your tea shop — the tea set that had ignited your entire relationship with Levi, all that time ago. You thought of it as you looked at your family; broken, yes, but healing and more beautiful than ever before. 

Masterlist

Requests are OPEN!

Requested by @alebrasil0101

taglist: @leviykwim @wittyjasontodd (message to be added!)

[zepskies]

All righty, here we go, diving into more of the angsty love triangle!! *rubs hands together* 😈

However, it wasn't enough to block out the sounds that were coming from your bedroom or the subtle knocking of your headboard against the metal wall between his and your room that grew louder and louder every passing minute.

Oooh my God, poor Dean. 🫣 This is literally torture for him! lol

When you'd agreed to move to the bunker Dean had insisted you live in the bedroom next to his. It meant that if there was a problem in the middle of the night, Dean would be the first to hear you scream and the first to protect you.

I had a feeling this was why he insisted on her living in the room next to his, our big protective man, but now it's coming back to bite him in the ass. 💀

He remembered how soft you felt under him, how you clung to his body as if he was the only thing grounding you to earth, how natural it felt to be there protecting you, how you sighed when he pushed your hair back from your face, and how all the soft parts of you seemed to fit perfectly against all of the hardened muscles of him.

He'd lost so many things in his life and he knew that he couldn't lose you, not without losing a piece of himself.

Sobbbiiiiiingggg -- oh Dean. 😭😭

It made Dean feel like someone had ripped at his insides with a pickaxe seeing you hurt and listening to the whimper of pain that passed through your lips. He knew that he went too far when you broke his nose, but damnit, Dean just wanted you to be safe! And you never listened to what he told you because you were just so damn stubborn and always got on Dean's last nerve.

God Dean! You can only bury your emotions under assholery and anger for so long. He can hate the fact that she's a hunter and want more for her, but he has to accept that it's her choice, and he can support her and be honest with her rather than succumbing to his assholery. 🥲🥲

But of course, his "I'm not worthy" mentality crops up as well. 🙃 Makes you want to throttle him (if in more than one way lmao)!!

The thought that he was suffering so much while trying to find her when she was in another world is also heartbreakingly on-brand for him. He'd so be tearing through every piece of lore and resource to try and get her back. 😭

"That better be a way for use to get rid of the walking Trojan ad." Dean huffs, throwing himself into the chair across from his brother. Please let them be using protection. The last thing I want is to be stuck here to raise super baby. I had enough problems with Jack.

💀💀💀 Come on now, Dean, don't be petty. 🤣

"Just listen to me for a minute." Sam points at him with the pen. "She might be stubborn and sarcastic on the outside, but she's not callous or emotionless. She hides what she's feeling deep down, just like you do. And I think that she likes Ben because he doesn't hurt her and he makes her feel wanted." But I do want her.

TELL HIM, SAM. SHAKE HIM UNTIL HIS GREEN EYES ROLL INTO HIS HEAD -- make him see how he's acting!! lol

Your eyes trace the way his dark hair has fallen into his face and over the pillow, and you reach up to push some of the strands back from his face. But with it comes the ghost of how you wanted to do the same thing to Dean earlier, that your fingertips had itched to feel his brownish golden hair in your hands.

Gahhh pain. so very pain, even though it hurts so good. 😭😭😭

Dean kissed like he wanted you to understand and that he wished to understand himself. Dean's kiss was passionate, filled with enough emotion that it left you breathless. Ben was never afraid to take what he wanted but Dean, he was almost asking, trying to let you understand, and trying to listen to what you wanted.

"I-" He swallows. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how much I hurt you. All I wanted was for you to be safe and to talk to me the way you talk to Sam." His voice is quiet, just a soft rumble, but you can hear a tremor on the edge of his words. "I didn't mean to make you hate me."

Omggg finally!! Finally Dean's being honest about how he feels without being a dick about it. 😪

But he didn't, he never did.  And in the kiss is something else, years of emotions the two of you pushed down, years of being frenemies of almost losing each other, years of ignoring what was developing between the two of you, and years of watching the other fall for the wrong person.

Ughhh such soul-rendering description, and the spice here is oh so delicious. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

But I have to point out that the reading is having a DAY loll. Two beefcakes in one night?? 😏

(Also, I'm afraid of how Ben is gonna take this. 😬)

"Don't do me any favors sweetheart, we had fun." Ben shrugs. "That's all this was."

Oh sure, pretend she meant nothing to you to spare your deep-down man feelings. 🙄

"Stupid, fucking piece of shit!" Ben growled at the computer monitor in front of him that had a bright red ERROR message splayed across it.

LMAOO Ben vs. Technology -- I think we all know who's winning. 🤣

And Ben secretly liking therapy just so he just has someone to vent to for an hour? Be still my heart, honestly. 😭

The version of you Ben knew from Dean's universe flashed through Ben's mind again. She was more confident and outgoing, but you looked a little shy, hiding back in the cardigan and using the iPad in your hands as a welcome distraction to looking Ben in the eyes and like a shield. He thought it was cute.

OMGGGGG I'M WEEAAAAK -- and he's already clocking IT girl's cuteness, I'm dead. 😂💞 The way he's already starting to like her better? I see what you did there. 😉

"To the ends of the Earth doll." Ben winks and watches the flush of your cheeks deepen to a crimson and hears the way your heart buckles and jumps when he does.

ahaha you charmer, you. 😂 A swoon-worthy line, even if we do know how sleazy this man can be lol. She really has no idea what she's getting into with this guy, but I love to imagine that with this nicely wrapped up ending! 💕💕

Part 3: Why Is It A Big Deal?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Dean Winchester xf!reader

POV: Dean POV, Reader POV, Soldier Boy/Ben POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Enemies to Lovers, Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems, ANGST, Crossover

Word Count: 12.4K (I PROMISE I DIDN'T MEAN TO)

Listen While You Read: Treat You Better By Shawn Mendes

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing, Making Out, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex, Jealousy, A little homophobia (it’s Soldier Boy), Feelings, Angst, Self Deprecating Thoughts? References to Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy Being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning). Dean Winchester Being Dean Winchester.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

A/N: It's finally here! I have loved the return to this universe more than words can describe. Each of the POV's are crazy in their own way. And again, don't forget to read the fic "Stranded" by @justagirlinafandomworld that inspired me to write this series in the first place! ENJOY!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Dean POV

Dean leaned back on his bed at the bunker and jammed the pillow further down around his ears over his headphones. He was listening to a mixtape that he had burned forever ago, chosen because it had the loudest drum solos blaring through his Walkman. However, it wasn't enough to block out the sounds that were coming from your bedroom or the subtle knocking of your headboard against the metal wall between his and your room that grew louder and louder every passing minute.

Dean had tried his best to get Sam on his side when he proposed the idea that Ben didn't have to come back to the bunker and instead should be sent be sent back to wherever the hell he came from right then and there, but Cas was still out doing whatever it was he was doing, which meant that Ben was going to stick around for a little longer.

And it meant that Ben was finally getting his wish… you.

Dean's teeth gritted together when he heard another moan over the sound of the cymbals and felt a white hot spike of something in the pit of his stomach burn through his body.

When you'd agreed to move to the bunker Dean had insisted you live in the bedroom next to his. It meant that if there was a problem in the middle of the night, Dean would be the first to hear you scream and the first to protect you. But other than the time you stubbed your toe and Dean kicked down the door when he heard you yell with his gun drawn, there hadn't been an emergent situation that required his help.

Right now he was regretting the decision to have you live next door wholeheartedly, because it meant that he was having a front row seat to everything Ben and you were doing in your bedroom.

Dean sighed, his eyes squeezed shut, as he tried not to imagine what was happening, but he kept having flashes skate across his mind. He didn't want to see what it looked like or sounded like to have Ben's name tumbling from your lips, all Dean wanted was to hear you say his name like that and to be the one making you fall apart beneath him.

Not some asshole from another universe.

The image of you laying under him back at the school came back to him in a wave, pushing away the revulsion momentarily. He remembered how soft you felt under him, how you clung to his body as if he was the only thing grounding you to earth, how natural it felt to be there protecting you, how you sighed when he pushed your hair back from your face, and how all the soft parts of you seemed to fit perfectly against all of the hardened muscles of him.

He hadn't even made love to you and you laying there on top of you felt more intimate than any experience he'd had in his life. Dean wanted to exist in that moment with you a little longer, to savor those last few seconds of you staring up at him as if he was the only person in the world.

The memory of Ben kissing you after followed. Dean remembered the way Ben's lips roughly took from you and the way he held on to your face and it snapped Dean out of it. It hurt him more that you let Ben kiss you after Dean had been the one to save you.

Fuck.

His teeth gritted hard together so tight that he heard them grind. He hated watching you with Ben, hated watching Ben do the one thing that Dean had wanted to do for years. And Dean also hated the way that Ben treated you, as if you were something to be possessed and showed off, as if you weren't smart or anything more than just beautiful.

Dean had known from the first moment he saw you in Ellen's bar years ago that you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his entire life. You were funny, kind, sarcastic, and had a hard edge that you'd developed after years of being a hunter, but there was something else, a softer side of you that you didn't let everyone see, something hidden beneath it all that you only allowed yourself to have whenever Sam was around, but never with Dean.

It made him hate his brother a little bit, seeing how effortlessly the two of you had developed a friendship, while Dean had to practically Heimlich you to talk to him.

Dean wanted to see that side of you so badly. He wanted you to smile at him the soft way you smiled at Sam, and wanted you to laugh at his jokes or tease him playfully about his hair or about what he was wearing that day the way he'd seen you with his brother.

He tried to find reasons to be in the same room as you, drifting to sit nearby while you read or watched a movie. You always seemed different then. Your body was relaxed, open, with just a hint of a smile curving on the edge of your lips that made Dean want to stare at you for the rest of his life.

He tried to make you laugh whenever he could and tried his best to impress you, but each time he did you'd only roll your eyes and make a sarcastic comment. You didn't like him, Dean knew that, but he wished you did.

Sure he was maybe a little harsh on you sometimes, but Dean didn't want anything to happen to you, he was trying to protect you, because he knew the moment he stopped caring so much would be the moment he lost you.

He'd lost so many things in his life and he knew that he couldn't lose you, not without losing a piece of himself.

He hadn't felt like this about anyone else ever, and he didn't know what to do with his feelings. Bottling them up only seemed to hurt him more, but whenever something happened on a hunt or you tried to split away from him and Sam, he panicked and said things that he shouldn't instead of the three little words that he'd been wanting to say to you for years.

That's what happened a few weeks ago on a hunt, when you went into a house alone and faced a poltergeist that threw you across the room and into a glass cabinet. Dean had stood there yelling at you trying to tell you how stupid it had been for you to go in alone, while biting back what he really wanted to say- that he couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you because looking at you was like watching the fireflies along a misty road at dusk, each one lighting a path in the darkness that showed him the way.

Yes he was angry, but all Dean saw was the bloody ripped sleeve of your shirt, and the way your face had contorted in pain when Sam picked you up and helped you back to the car. It made Dean feel like someone had ripped at his insides with a pickaxe seeing you hurt and listening to the whimper of pain that passed through your lips. He knew that he went too far when you broke his nose, but damnit, Dean just wanted you to be safe! And you never listened to what he told you because you were just so damn stubborn and always got on Dean's last nerve.

The truth was he hated that this was your life, hated that you were a hunter and each day you put yourself in danger, because he believed you deserved more. You deserved a normal life with someone who loved you, maybe a few kids, a dog, and a life far from the world that Dean and you knew so well.

Of course the thought of you with anyone else made Dean want to put his fist through a wall. The problem was even though Dean wanted you, he believed that you deserved better than him. You deserved the white picket fence and suburbia, not a darkened bunker underground with a man who wasn't sure he still had anything good left.

It was the reason why he didn't want to tell you how he felt, that, and Dean believed you absolutely hated him and hated being around him in the first place. It's why he buried it beneath the surface for so long.

However, when he was looking at you Dean often forgot the things that happened to him. You made him want to keep getting back up to fight if not for anyone else, for you.

But then Ben had shown up.

When you'd gotten dragged to another universe, Dean had tried everything in his power to get you back. He'd screamed and prayed for Cas so loud and so many times he went hoarse, he'd looked through almost every book he knew of to find the spell to bring you back to no avail, tried several rituals that promised results but gave him nothing, looked at his computer screen for so long that it made him cross-eyed, and drank coffee so strong it made his heart race.

But all Dean knew was that you were somewhere else alone, where he couldn't get to you or protect you, and it made him sick. He hated the thought of you alone trying to fight your way to survival in a place like the Endverse. When Cas finally came five days later and helped Dean bring you back, Dean had been so happy to see you that he'd almost hugged you, but instead he'd made an off-brand joke and you'd run into Sam's arms for a hug that made his chest tight.

Dean thought that he was having a nightmare when he saw Ben, a man who looked so much like himself, stride into the motel room confidently and kiss you. Dean was waiting for you to push him away, to tell him to fuck off, but you didn't, you liked it. And judging by the sounds Dean was hearing through the wall he could see that you wanted Ben.

All it did was piss Dean off that another version of himself got to have you and he didn't. Not when he'd known you longer and you'd only known Ben for five days.

Five fucking days. She's known that asshole for five days and she likes him. She's known you for years and she can't even stand to be in the same room with you.

The thought made Dean's heart clench in his chest. He didn't understand what Ben had that he didn’t have, he was him after all as Dean kept saying over and over to you. But Dean knew that deep down the real thing he was telling you over and over was not that Ben was him, but rather was asking the question: "why not me?"

Does she really hate me that much that she can't stand the thought of being with me? That she can stand to be with someone who looks exactly like me, but can't stay in a room with me for more than ten seconds?

Dean gets out of bed, stomps out the door, and down the hallway towards the library to try and escape the sounds coming from your room. They vibrate down the hall after him, like a flock of seagulls, mocking him all the way and doing little to ease the anger and jealousy swirling beneath his skin.

Sam is sitting in a chair with a large volume in front of him and a piece of notebook paper scribbling furiously when Dean enters the library, but he doesn't appear surprised to see his brother.

"That better be a way for use to get rid of the walking Trojan ad." Dean huffs, throwing himself into the chair across from his brother.

Please let them be using protection. The last thing I want is to be stuck here to raise super baby. I had enough problems with Jack.

Sam gives him a sympathetic look, and pushes his long hair back behind his ears. "Sorry. I'm researching a case in Kentucky, but Cas said that he'd be back in a few hours-"

"He said that ages ago! I want that asshole gone now." Dean's hand tightens on the arm of the chair, so tight that his knuckles are white.  He was happy that the library seemed to be far enough away from your room to escape the noise, but he knew it was happening, which didn’t help at all. "I don’t understand what she sees in that dick."

Sam hesitates for a moment, tapping his pen against the notebook paper.

"Just spit it out Sammy." Dean sighs.

"He might be an asshole to you, but not to her." He replies simply.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Well you're kinda…" Sam shrugs and leans back into his chair trying to find the words.

"I'm kinda what?"

"You’re kinda a dick to her." He finishes. "She's getting fed up with it. The other day she told me that she's been thinking about moving out and going back on her own. I've been trying to talk her out of it-"

Dean's blood ran cold. He hated the thought of you leaving again, it meant that he wouldn't know where you were or if you were alive and he wouldn't be able to make sure you were prepared for a hunt or at least be there to have your back if something went wrong- because let's face it, something always went wrong. "What? What the hell are you taking about?! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because she hasn't made up her mind."

"But why?"

"Because ever since the first time we’ve been going on hunts with her, you’ve been rude and-"

Dean interrupts his brother with a shout. "What? Do you expect me to hold her fucking hand? We’ve seen experienced hunters get killed out there with one simple mistake! And she’s just some amateur-"

"Dean, she's not an amateur." Sam sighs as if he can't understand why Dean was being so difficult.

He was. Sam was used to it whenever the subject of you came up in front of Dean, but honestly his brother's stubborn attitude when it came to you was annoying him.

"She is!" Dean snaps back wishing that he had a beer.

"No, she’s not." Sam shakes his head. "She’s been doing this just as long as we have. You know who her mom was and you know that her mom was just as hard on her as our dad was on you-"

At the mention of their father, Dean can feel his jaw tighten, memories flashing across his mind that he wanted to forget. The cold feeling of disapproval begins to creep up his spine to his shoulders, but Dean shakes it off. "That doesn’t matter."

"I think it does."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, Dean you keep saying that he’s you, but I'm starting to think that she's you."

"You need to stop using all those hair products Sammy, they're messing with your head-" Dean scoffs.

"Just listen to me for a minute." Sam points at him with the pen. "She might be stubborn and sarcastic on the outside, but she's not callous or emotionless. She hides what she's feeling deep down, just like you do. And I think that she likes Ben because he doesn't hurt her and he makes her feel wanted."

But I do want her.

The thought rises before Dean could stop it and he wonders if you'd spent all these years thinking that he didn't want you around when it was all he thought about. Every decision he made was to try and protect you, to put you first, and the thought that you didn't see that hurt him.

"I'd never hurt her-" Dean's voice comes out a little softer and more broken than he meant it to, catching slightly on the words.

Sam shakes his head. "Not physically. But the two of you have been doing this for years and I think that she's sick of you treating her the way you do and then she met Ben. She met another version of you who appreciates her. I know that you’re a little jealous-"

"I am not jealous!" Dean says on instinct, but Sam knows the truth, he's always known the truth, and Dean knows it too.

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother. "You should talk to her. Take Ben out of it and talk to her the way you talk to other people."

"I talk to her like I talk to other people." Dean grumbles as he gets up out of his chair intent on going to the kitchen to get a beer or something stronger to take the edge off.

"No you don't. So go talk to her." Sam waves a hand in Dean's direction before his gaze drops back down to the book.

"She's kinda preoccupied." Dean mutters under his breath and the image of you and Ben tangled up in your bed makes him flinch.

Sam looks up at his brother again, sympathy flashing in his eyes. "Dean-"

"Just leave me alone Sammy."

And with that he turns and makes his way towards the kitchen, hoping that he won't be able to hear Ben and you, and wishing that you hadn't met Ben in the first place.

Reader POV

Ben mutters something in his sleep, rolling his body towards yours so close that his muscular right arm brushes against your bare shoulder. He was laying on his stomach, his face pressed into one of your many pillows, snoring softly, and taking up most of your bed.

It wasn't hard to. The full sized bed was hardly big enough for you, let alone two people, especially not someone as tall and broad as Ben. Which became more obvious when you noticed that Ben's feet were hanging off the end.

You sigh, laying on your back and staring up at the cracks in your ceiling, unable to fall asleep. You followed each one with your eyes, tracing the shapes they made like someone watching the clouds on a hill bathed in sunlight. You'd thought that after everything Ben and you did for the past two hours you'd be able to fall asleep as easily as he did, but you couldn't because your mind was awake and roaming everywhere it could.

It wasn't that you hadn't had a good time with Ben or hadn't wanted to have sex with him. Ben didn't force you into anything. You wanted to have sex with him. You had missed him and it had been a while for you, and you liked Ben. The problem was that now, after, there was an odd feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach, something that felt surprisingly like guilt.

I have nothing to be guilty about.

You chide yourself, hands curling and uncurling on the edge of the blanket the longer you stared up at the ceiling. But it was still there, bubbling up beneath the surface. Your mind kept slipping back into the memory of Dean and you in the broken auditorium.

Each time you closed your eyes you were back in Dean's arms, looking up at him while he pushed your hair out of your face and asked you if you were alright, his eyes filled with something that looked suspiciously like worry. He'd never acted gentle or caring like that before with you and you still felt odd from everything that happened.

Fuck. What is happening to me? I just spent the last two hours with Ben, I shouldn’t be thinking about anyone else but-

You sigh again and shut your eyes, but it just brings the image back to haunt you.

You hadn't had any thoughts like this about Dean, not ever, and you didn't know why now. You'd spent years thinking that he was a big jerk who hated you, but the Dean you saw earlier today was far from that.

In the past, Dean had your back a few times, but it hadn't been like earlier. He'd never held you close, covered you with his body as if he didn't care what happened to himself as long as you were safe, and he'd never brushed your hair away with such tenderness it made your heart flutter in your chest.

No. Dean has been a total dick from the moment I met him, he hates me, he-

The thought stutters to a stop when the hurt and jealousy in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben comes flashing back through your mind.

Does he? Or did I just interpret that wrong? Maybe it was just the hatred he had towards Ben flaring but… why does he hate Ben? He has no reason to.

But despite everything that Dean had done to you over the years, you didn't hate him.

Even though he tap danced on your last nerve whenever he opened his mouth and often made you feel stupid you couldn't, not when you saw the way he cared so much for other people. Dean Winchester was selfless, he always put other people first and was willing to sacrifice himself if it meant someone else got to be happy and got to live.

You glance at the man lying in the bed next to you. Ben was handsome and strong. He possessed some of the qualities of Dean that you found attractive, but he treated you differently. It was what drew you to him when you got trapped in Ben's reality, not just that he looked like Dean, but that Ben joked with you, teased you, and he seemed to generally care about you.

Dean didn't act that way with you. At least, you'd never seen Dean act that way before today. Today was different than any other day and you wished that it hadn't been.

Ben mutters something else, and this time he leans more towards you, his arm coming up around your waist to hold you against his side. The warmth and weight of it was familiar, but it made the feeling of guilt grow larger in your stomach.

Why is this happening? I didn’t feel guilty the last time I had sex with him.

Your eyes trace the way his dark hair has fallen into his face and over the pillow, and you reach up to push some of the strands back from his face. But with it comes the ghost of how you wanted to do the same thing to Dean earlier, that your fingertips had itched to feel his brownish golden hair in your hands.

Before he'd drifted off Ben had asked you to come with him when Cas sent him back to where he was from, said that he wanted you there with him. You had an inkling that it was the first time that Ben had asked something so serious from a woman. But you weren't convinced that it was because Ben wanted to have a relationship, rather that he didn't want to be alone.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't considering it. Ben was kinder to you, gentle (in his own way), and he seemed to appreciate having you around. But there was something holding you back.

At first you thought it was Sam. He was your best friend and you didn't want to abandon him, but there was another feeling, an ache deep down that you didn't know the cause of. Other than Sam there really wasn't anything in this universe that would hold you back from going with Ben, but obviously there was, you just couldn't figure out what.

Sure Ben's reality was fucked up… yours was too. Demons and Angels duking it out for supremacy while other creatures hid under beds and in the dark to kill people or worse wasn’t ideal either. But you weren't sure what your life could look like there. There wasn't anything to hunt which meant you'd probably be dealing with supes instead and the thought wasn’t appealing. You weren't sure that you belonged in his world.

Maybe I should have asked him to stay with me?

The thought made you bite the inside of your cheek. You'd been thinking about moving out of the bunker. Yes it was the only permanent home you'd ever known, but Dean was getting on your nerves and you thought that maybe you should get a little bit of distance from him. Moving out and Ben staying meant that he could come with you on hunts, but you weren't sure that was the solution either. Ben was strong and brave, but you weren't sure that he had the precision or the delicate side you needed when approaching a hunt to do well here.

It was these thoughts that were keeping you awake and you decide to get some water to clear them.

You slowly begin to slip out from under the covers, gently moving Ben's arm off of you as slowly as you can as to not wake him before you make your way to your dresser to find a clean pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. Ben sighs and shifts in the bed, the sheets pulling down just a little bit so you can admire the expanse of his freckled muscular back.

You'd seen Dean shirtless before once. He had come running out of his room with his gun drawn when you'd stubbed your toe on your bedside table and yelled. He hadn't put on a shirt before coming into your room, just aggressively kicked down the door wearing only a pair of hotdog pajama pants that you did mock him relentlessly for afterward. You didn't know why he'd looked so frantic when you yelled. It was just a toe after all. There wasn't anything for him to be worried about. Sam had showed up maybe ten minutes later rubbing the sleep from his eyes not worried at all.

But you'd remembered how Dean had looked shirtless. Sometimes the thought came flying into your mind at the most inopportune times, when Dean pissed you off and stuck his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your lips and the warmth of his skin through he air. The thought of him shirtless with his pajama pants hung so low on his hips that you could see every single hard defined muscle of his abdomen including the ones that made smart girls like you stupid.

You slipped on the clothes, but stop before you open the door to cast one more glance at Ben.

Although you knew that Ben and your relationship was more physical, there was a part of you that believed it could grow into something more if you went with him, something that you'd been wanting for a little while. Not just Ben specifically, but with someone.

Yes you were lonely, and Ben lessened the ache whenever he was around, but sometimes you wanted more than this and being a hunter didn’t help at all.

You never met anyone or tried to have a real relationship with anyone in a long time. The last permanent boyfriend you'd had wasn't a hunter, but someone you'd met in a bar after a hunt with Dean and Sam. It lasted Four months. Four months of you missing anniversaries, dates, and his birthday. He'd accused you of cheating on him with Sam and you'd found him in bed with his work partner when you'd tried to surprise him one weekend. You hadn't been surprised. Surprising was when the guy had tried to follow after you and both Dean and Sam had blocked his path and told him to "get lost." That was putting it nicely.

Sam had to hold Dean back from breaking the guy's arm when he shouted over the two of them at you that you "weren't worth the trouble." You didn’t understand why Dean was also just as pissed at the idea of the guy cheating on you as Sam.

You shake off the thought and tiptoe out of the room in the direction of the kitchen.

The bunker was silent, the metal floors cool beneath your bare feet as you walked down the desolate hallways. You glance at Dean's closed door for a moment as you pass and the feeling in the pit of your stomach tightens. A flash of the emotions on his face when you kissed Ben in the car and at the school flickers through your mind and you clench your jaw.

What the hell is wrong with me?

When you enter the kitchen you realize that you're not alone. Dean is leaning over the metal table his large hands braced on the top, his back to you, and his head bowed. A bottle of expensive whiskey sits on the counter in front of him next to a glass with the maple colored liquid inside. But the weird thing was that this wasn't the usual stuff Dean drank. This was the bottle that he had Sam hide from him for emergencies, the stuff that you'd only seen Dean drink when he was really upset and nothing else would cut it.

But what?

He turns when he hears you walk in.

You watch his eyes darken slightly as they skate over what you're wearing making your cheeks flush. You didn’t think he was still awake. If you had, you would have wore more than your favorite Metallica t-shirt that was worn soft from years of wear. Dean's gaze catches on the end of it where it hits mid-thigh, lingering a second too long, and makes something spark in your chest.

"Sorry. I was just getting some water." You clear your throat awkwardly.

"Romeo didn't get it for you?" Dean frowns as if the thought of Ben is an annoyance to him.

"No, he's asleep." You shake your head. "I thought you were asleep too-"

"Kinda hard to be sweetheart when the two of you are shooting a porno in the room next door to mine."

You feel your cheeks flush an even brighter pink. You didn't know that Ben and you were being that loud. The bed was a little squeaky, but you hadn't worried about the sound. The icky feeling in the pit of your stomach is back, the guilt rising in a wave the more you realize how much Dean heard.

Again? Why am I guilty? Ben and I had fun, he didn't force me to do anything. I wanted to have sex with him but-

"I'm sorry. I didn't know we were being that loud." You shake off the feeling and move around Dean to get a glass from one of the shelves.

"Guess he was making up for lost time huh? All those lonely months away from you fucking other women were hard I guess." Dean's words bite through the air and made your own temper flare up.

"He's not cheating on me. We weren't exclusive-"

"But you haven't been with anyone since you came back from his world."

Your hand freezes around the glass you reached for on the shelf. Why did he notice that? And why does he care?

The flicker of emotion in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben in the auditorium comes roaring back, jealousy and hurt. It makes the guilt worse.

You let out a breath to calm the anger that wishes to bite back at Dean's comment. "Look, I know that you don't like him, but Ben isn't a bad person and even though it's not any of your business, we had fun."

You don't know why you felt the need to justify what you'd done with, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Standing here in front of Dean felt awkward, and it never had before. And it wasn't just because of what you were wearing, there was something else charging the air between the two of you. You were expecting a giant purple elephant to appear in the corner.

Dean chuckles, his eyes dark. "Did you now?"

"Yes." You reply, but you can't hold his gaze, not when he's looking at you like that.

Dean takes a long swig from the glass in front of him, his lips curling on the edges in a cruel smirk. This was the Dean you saw more often, the one that made you feel like a failure and a bother, but it was the first time that you longed to see the soft Dean who protected you from the fallen debris.

"I could hear just how much fun the two of you were having sweetheart." He continues. "But the man who isn’t a bad person toasted a woman that he slept with without batting an eye. Imagine what he'd do to you."

"A woman who was going to kill me." You say to defend Ben. "And he wouldn't hurt me."

Dean's eyes flick down to your thighs, his gaze hardening. "What do you call those?"

You glance down at the place where your shirt meets your thighs and notice the bruises. There were five on each leg and each was a perfect imprint of Ben's fingertips. They didn't hurt and you certainly hadn't felt or noticed them before Dean pointed them out.

But you knew that Ben would never hurt you. He wasn't like that.

Sure he killed that woman today, but she was crazy and she was trying to kill me and-

"He didn't it on purpose. He's stronger than us and sometimes-"

"Don't you dare make excuses for that asshole." Dean growls eyes flashing. "I don't care if he didn't do it on purpose, he still did it. He knows how strong he is and if he can't control himself he shouldn't be sleeping with you!"

"You're being ridiculous!" Ice clinks against the sides of your glass as you make your way back towards the sink.

"No, I'm not. And I want him gone!"

"Oh really?" You snark while placing the glass under the running water in the sink. "I had no idea. You've been so calm and collected since the moment Ben showed up."

Dean opens his mouth to respond, but instead huffs out a breath and pours himself another glass. The amber colored liquid splashes against the sides of the cup as Dean violently picks it up to take another drink.

An uncomfortable silence settles over the kitchen.

The water is cold, but you can't feel it when you take a sip, and you still can't quite look at Dean.

If he really is jealous, why can't he just come out and say it? Why is he being so stubborn and nitpicking someone else?

You sigh quietly to yourself and take another sip of water. The guilt was building again, prickling beneath your skin and bringing an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of your stomach the longer you stand there.

Why am I guilty? Dean being jealous has nothing to do with me and everything to do with him!

You think about going back to your room and being done with it, but you can't something is keeping you in that kitchen with Dean just as something is keeping him there with you.

"He-um-" You swallow. "He asked me to back with him to his universe." 

Dean's entire body tenses as he explodes. "What? Are you fucking kidding me!?"

"No I-"

"Are you seriously considering that?" He demands looking at you like you're crazy.

"Yes. I am." You answer him honestly. There's something hidden beneath the surface that makes you want to tell Dean this. You're not sure if it's morbid curiosity or if it's something else, something that you can't quite place, but you want Dean to tell you what he thinks.

"But why?! You've known that asshole for five days!" Dean snaps back, but you can hear something in his voice, almost as if he's holding himself back from saying something else.

Dean please just say it! Don't keep it in!

"He's not an asshole, he's just rough around the edges." You shrug continuing to make excuses for Ben and thinking about the bruises on your thighs.

"Oh please." Dean rolls his eyes so far into the back of his head you wonder how they didn't get stuck on his brain. "If I took a piece of tree bark and ran it along his arm, he'd make it smooth."

"But-"

"Sam told me that you were unhappy here, but I didn't think you would throw your entire life away to be with that asshole!"

His words make you hesitate for a moment in surprise.

Sam told him that I was thinking about leaving? Why did he tell Dean that?

"What life Dean?" You shout, throwing your arms out to gesture to the entire room. "I don't have anything here! I can't keep a relationship because I let people down. I don't know who my dad is because he walked out on my mom as soon as he found out she was pregnant. My mom died four years ago. I go to bed every night wishing for something else to happen but-" Frustrated tears were burning in your eyes now.

You didn't want to cry in front of him, but the urge to was overpowering everything else, the emotions you tried to keep down for so long beginning to curl and reform from the dark recessive parts of your mind where you buried them the night you met Dean Winchester.

"You deserve better than that asshole!" Dean shouts over you taking another step in your direction.

"Oh and what do you think I deserve Dean? Are you saying that I deserve someone like you?

Dean grits his teeth in frustration, anger blazing behind his eyes. "No I-" He finds his words. “I can’t believe you slept with him.”

"Oh good! That dinosaur. Falling back on something familiar, what a typical Dean Winchester move!" You gesture wildly with your hands sloshing water onto the floor. "I don’t understand why you’re so upset about it. We’re both consenting adults. He didn’t force me to do anything.”

You put down the cup to avoid throwing the glass at him.

“I just don’t see why you did it!” He towers over you, his body pulled taunt with his own anger and frustration.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You shouldn’t be sleeping around with people like him!”

Is he out of his MIND?!

"Why not?" You demand, fists curling into balls at your sides because you know that it's not safe to put them anywhere else. The anger that was flaring in your chest was starting to rival how you felt the last time that Dean and you had an argument and you broke his nose. And it had just finished healing a few days ago.

"Because he treats you like a piece of meat!" Dean shouts it so loud you can hear the frying pans hanging in the kitchen clink together

"Do you even hear yourself? I have seen you in bars picking up women after a hunt-"

You had. Countless times. The bravado Dean had when the three of you were still floating on the adrenaline that was pumping through from a hunt you'd seen first hand in the bars where Sam and you sat at a one of the high top tables watching him weave through the crowds with the sound of classic rock blaring over the crackly speakers. You watched Dean find another woman for the night, saw how he tried his best lines and got what he wanted while you sat in the motel room next to his trying to read beside a sleeping Sam and avoid the noises coming from next door.

"This is different!" He fumes.

"How is it different Dean? I want to know!"

Is it different because he's jealous? Or did I just imagine that?

You didn't think that you did.

Dean's face is bright red with the force of his anger and you're sure yours must be too given how it feels like it's on fire.

"He's always touching you or kissing you, putting his fucking hands on you!" Dean's jaw is clenched tight.  "I've never heard him give you one compliment other than how you look-"

You laugh in his face, but it comes out crueler than you meant it to. "In contrast to how many compliments you give me? Because I don't think there's been any of those."

"I compliment you." He huffs back.

"Oh really?" You scoff. "When?"

Dean is quiet for a minute. His eyes drag over you again, but this time the sweep of them bring a heat vibrating against your skin and your throat gets tight. "I like your shirt."

"HA!" You shout triumphant holding up a finger. "That's looks based."

"You didn't let me finish!" He scrambles. "I like your shirt because I like that band too and you have okay taste in music."

"Oh wooowwww. I have "okay taste in music" let me just swoon right here." You wave your hand back and forth. "Fuck you. I have awesome taste in music!"

"That's not what I-"

"And who is it that should I be sleeping around with? You?!" You roll your eyes trying to take a step away from him, but he moves to intercept you.

His fists are clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles are white. “I didn’t say that! Don’t put words in my mouth.”

His green eyes darken as he stares down at you, the fluorescent lights above the two of you catching the familiar hard lines of his face. Even though Dean looked like Ben, he still looked like himself in his own way. The familiar crows feet that graced under his eyes, the subtle tilt of his head, the rough stubble that pebbled over his chin and cheeks, the soft freckles, and the green eyes that you always found on you. There was a small scar just barely visible on the bridge of his nose and a few flecked on the edges of his face that made him more handsome.

You'd noticed how handsome he was in the past, but never like this. You'd never looked at Dean as other than someone who annoyed you. And yes he was annoying you now, but there was something else that you could feel threatening to explode, something you buried deep down and refused to unearth.

“I’m not putting words in your mouth Dean, I’m trying to figure out why this is such a big deal to you!”

Why is it a big deal?

“It just is!"

"Why? Because you're jealous?!" You hadn't meant to say it, but Dean's body goes taunt again.

"I am not jealous. I just don’t want you sleeping with him!”

“I think you are! And you’re not my dad Dean. You don’t get to decide who I sleep with!” You'd had enough of hearing him yell at you, of hearing him bitch about something that wasn't any of his business.

Who does he think he is? We're not together.

“That’s not what this is about-“

“Then what is it about Dean?! Why are you so hung up on something that is none of your business?!”

"It is my business!"

"How? How is it your business? Because you think that Ben is you somehow?"

"He is me!" Dean roars again and you wished he would stop saying it, because it was snagging on something in your chest.

A lie that you told yourself when you first started sleeping with Ben. You knew it. That you liked Ben because he looked like Dean and he appreciated you, that he didn't make you feel stupid, or ugly or not worth his time.

"No, he's not!" You shout back shaking off the feelings for what you hope is the final time. “Why do you care so much about this?!”

“Because I-“ Dean shouts, eyes narrowed at you. “Because I just do!”

“WHY?” You poke your finger into his chest. “I don’t care who you think you are. You don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot sleep with!"

“I’m not trying to!”

“Yes you are! And I am so sick of your bullshit Winchester. This is none of your business. None of this is. It's my life! So why don't you just take your unneeded opinion and-"

The rest of your sentence evaporates into thin air as Dean grabs your shoulders so tight you're sure they're be bruises and pulls you in for a searing kiss.

Your body is frozen in shock, the warmth of his lips against yours holding a softness that you'd never known.

Everything about this kiss is different than the ones you'd share with Ben. You knew better than to compare them, but Ben kissed like he meant to devour you. He wasn't hesitant or afraid to take what he wanted when he kissed you, but Dean?

Dean kissed like he wanted you to understand and that he wished to understand himself. Dean's kiss was passionate, filled with enough emotion that it left you breathless. Ben was never afraid to take what he wanted but Dean, he was almost asking, trying to let you understand, and trying to listen to what you wanted.

But just as he deepens the kiss you push him away and slap him across the face. The sharp sound rings through the kitchen and for a moment all you can do is stare at him shocked while the red mark on his face forms.

"What the hell was that for?" Dean shouts, but the emotion in his eyes wasn't anger, it was hurt.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" You shout back still out of breath. The ghost of his lips presses against yours and the taste of the whiskey remains on the tip of your tongue.

"I thought that-" He clears his throat, eyes widening.

"Thought what?"

"That you wanted me to-"

"To what? Kiss me?" The frustration was building again, because yes it had felt good to kiss him, but you hated that he was doing this now. That after years of him hating you, now when you had the possibility of being happy Dean was making this harder for you.

"Well-"

"No." You poke your finger into his chest, and this time you can't hold back the tears. They slip from your eyes, hot against your skin, as you feel every emotion that you'd kept bottled up beginning to surge up in a wave. "You don't get to do this Dean. Not now. Not after years of you treating me like shit."

Dean sighs and reaches for you, but you pull back from him. Hurt flashes in his eyes again and you can feel your own in the center of your chest. "I didn't-"

"Yes, you did. Damn it Dean, I'm not some shiny toy the two of you can fight over."

"That's not what I'm doing!"

"Then why now?" You ask in a half sob.

Dean pauses. "What?"

"Why after years of you hating me-"

"I never hated you." Dean's voice is more of a whisper than anything else.

"Oh bullshit. Yes you do!" You raise your hand to scrub at your cheeks, the tears falling quicker now.

It was the first time that you'd allowed yourself to cry in front of him, and you were fighting the urge to run back to your room. Ben was still there and you didn't know how the hell you were going to explain to you why you were crying.

"Will you just shut your damn mouth for five seconds and let me talk!?" He snaps running his hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm going to break your nose again if you do!"

"You need to because I'm trying to explain-"

"Explain what? Explain that you've completely lost your mind? Explain that all the years of you undermining me, making me feel like a burden, teasing me, yelling at me, making me feel like I was stupid, and driving me absolutely insane, has just been you trying to say that you love me?!"

You hadn't meant to shout that at him. Hadn't meant to say the word love, but now it was there hovering in the air between the two of you. Dean's eyes are locked with yours and you don't think he's taken a breath since you spoke.

Because love was a little word, only four letters, but why did it always seem so heavy? How could one word have the same weight as a loaded gun? How could something so small cause so much pain and so much hurt?

"Yes." Dean looks down at the ground, not able to meet your eyes. He looks ashamed and you can't find the words to fill the silence.

Because Dean Winchester was in love with you. The man who you'd always thought hated you, who you thought wished that you were never around, and who you thought believed you to be an annoyance.

Holy shit.

"I-" He swallows. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how much I hurt you. All I wanted was for you to be safe and to talk to me the way you talk to Sam." His voice is quiet, just a soft rumble, but you can hear a tremor on the edge of his words. "I didn't mean to make you hate me."

The words strike you right in the center of your chest and it shocks you so much that you stop crying. You'd seen different sides of Dean before. Seen him angry, happy, annoyed, frustrated, sad… but Dean Winchester had never looked broken around you, not like this, and certainly not over you. Whenever something went wrong Dean would isolate himself from you in his room with a bottle of something to numb the pain. It made you feel like someone was gutting out your insides with a pitchfork.

The silence grows between the two of you again, and his head is still bowed and looking down at the floor in shame.

You exhale softly, controlled by something that you're not sure, and reach out towards Dean's face.

He flinches back from you, eyes rimmed red, looking at you suspiciously as if he believes you're going to break his nose. In hindsight, you supposed it was a reasonable fear to have since you'd done it in the past.

"What are you doing?" He asks, voice cracking. Dean's green eyes have dimmed, looking more like an aged jade pot that's sat outside in the sun for too long.

"Please shut up." You sniffle, the end of your mouth twitching into a smile, before you place your hands on the sides of Dean's face and pull him down to you.

The kiss is quick, only a brush of your lips against his to give yourself a taste and when it's done you pull back letting your hands fall to your sides. You're not sure why you did that. Maybe it's because Dean admitted to loving you and he looks like a lost puppy, but-

Dean steps forward into the space, his hands reaching towards your face, and you flinch.

“What are you-“

“Please shut up.” Dean murmurs, echoing the words you'd whispered to him moments ago.

His hands are rough and warm against your cheeks. Worn from years of carrying a gun in his hand and hard work he never shied away from. But they’re nothing but gentle against your skin as he pulls your face to his.

You could be standing on the surface of the sun and not feel as hot as you do now. A volcano could erupt and bathe you in lava and you would just scoff at it like it was a normal day, because kissing Dean feels infinite. It's all consuming. The scrub of his five o'clock shadow against your cheeks, the slide of his hands down your arms that bring goosebumps in their wake, the smell of his shampoo that you always catch when you walk into the bathroom, the nudge of his nose into your cheek, and the soft supple welcome of his lips that draw the breath from your lungs all take you somewhere otherworldly.

You couldn't stop. It was a compulsion, like magnets, like it was something you wanted to do for so long but buried it deep down to avoid the inevitable. Fueled by the belief that Dean would push you away, because Dean Winchester hated you.

But he didn't, he never did.  And in the kiss is something else, years of emotions the two of you pushed down, years of being frenemies of almost losing each other, years of ignoring what was developing between the two of you, and years of watching the other fall for the wrong person.

Dean moans softly into your mouth and picks you up, his muscular arms fitting under your legs to place you on the counter, not pulling away at all and stepping into the space between them to fit himself closer to you. Your hands come to the back of his head, tangling in the short strands at the nape of his neck, shuffling your nails through his hair in a way that makes Dean shudder and pull you tighter to his chest.

Dean pulls back from you out of breath, but rests his forehead against yours, as if any further is too far from you and he doesn't wish to ever let you go.

"I don't hate you Dean." You whisper before he can say anything. "I can't. And I was only with Ben because I thought that this could never happen because you hated me-"

Dean's lips fall against yours taking your next words with it. "I don't hate you. I never did."

"Then why?"

He sighs. "I hated that you were a hunter, that this was your life, that you'd been doing this for so long with no one helping you."

"I'm okay."

"I know that, but I-" Dean hesitates. "I shouldn't have done what I did, but I didn't think that you'd want this-"

"This?"

"Me." Dean closes his eyes leaning further against you, almost as if he can’t hold himself up.

"Why?" Your grip on the back of his neck tightens.

"Because I'm-" He tries to find the word. "I'm not perfect. I'm a jealous asshole. I've done terrible things, made you cry.” He sighs. “You deserve better."

You kiss him softly. "There is no one better. I'm not looking for perfect, I'm looking for human. There's nothing wrong with making a mistake and being imperfect. The imperfections are what make you, you." Your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Dean, you're not a bad person. You are the most selfless man I have ever met. And maybe you've messed up a few times, but I have too. Do you think I'm a bad person for the things I've done?"

There was a list of them that seemed to grow longer each day and it was difficult not to dwell on the things of the past. But standing here with Dean, watching the weight settle on his shoulders, while he told you that he didn't think he was enough for you made you throw it all away.

"No.”

“Do you think that I’m not deserving of love?”

“No. But-"

 You shush him. "Then don’t talk that way about the man I love."

Dean's eyes widen, but you watch the end of his lips twitch into a smile. "You love me?"

"Yeah." You whisper. "I think I always have, but I was afraid because you were-"

His mouth falls over yours so fast you don’t have time to finish the thought. "I love you too."

Your heart flutters in your chest with his words.

"Kinda hard not to." His thumbs stroke along your hip bone over the soft t-shirt sending electricity dancing along your spine.

You smirk. "You're right. I am pretty great."

"I think the word you're looking for is high maintenance." Dean smirks back at you.

"Aww… That means I'm out of your league and you're lucky to have me in your life." You giggle with a smile.

"I am." He murmurs, nudging his nose forward into yours moving in for another kiss.

Someone clears their throat from the other side of the room drawing your eye. Ben is leaning against the doorway dressed in his suit, watching where you're wrapped up in Dean's arms.

Any warm feelings you were having standing there with Dean immediately evaporate and the guilt comes roaring back. You'd forgotten that Ben was still here and you felt bad for him. You didn't want him to think that you used him.

"Ben I-" You begin to stutter, but he only shakes his head at you.

"You don't gotta explain anything doll, I know what this was." Ben smirks, but you see something flicker in his gaze for just a second before its gone.  "And I'm man enough to admit when I'm beat. Even if I don't like it."

"But-" You try to say again.

Oh this is so awkward.

"Don't do me any favors sweetheart, we had fun." Ben shrugs. "That's all this was."

Cas walks into the room with Sam at his heels, who looks much too smug when he spies where Dean has you on the counter. You push Dean back and stand up, while Dean shoots daggers with his gaze leveled at Sam.

Sam isn't phased, but chooses not to say anything.

Ben rolls himself off the doorway and walks confidently to where Dean and you are standing, extending his hand towards Dean. "You take care of her." Ben's eyes flick to you for a second before focusing more on Dean. "She's special."

The hand of guilt on your throat tightens just a little more, because somewhere you wondered if Ben really was as aloof as he seemed or if he had started to care about you a little more than he let on.

"I will." Dean's smile is forced, and you see him squeeze Ben's hand a little tighter as he does.  It only makes Ben smirk wider.

Cas begins to write the symbol on the floor taking care with each intricate detail to open the portal, but you stop him at the last minute.

"Wait." You take a step forward and hug Ben tightly. "Thank you."

"You're thanking me for fucking you?" Ben snorts throwing a smug look in Dean's direction that makes Dean bristle. "Guess I am a gift."

"Shut up." Your cheeks blaze bright red and you hear Dean growl something under his breath. "No, just thank you. For being here."

Ben hesitates. He raises his hand to your cheek, fingers tracing along your skin before he brushes away some of your hair. It was a gentle gesture from him, one that you weren't accustomed to. The emotion in his eyes shifts to something else, but he hides it with a smirk. "You're welcome sweetheart."

"Maybe you'll meet the me from your reality." You say, because you're not sure what else you can say, not when Ben is looking at you like that.

The entire situation was again reaching soap opera proportions and there was only so much you could take before you drove your car off a cliff.

The truth was, you did like Ben. You thought he was attractive, bold, strong, but there was always something a little gentle that lurked under the surface he never let anyone else see.

But you loved Dean. He understood what it was like to be a hunter, understood what it was like to not be able to live up to someone's expectations, and he loved you. You couldn't see a life with Ben, but you could see one with Dean. Ben didn't belong in your world and you didn't belong in his.

Ben's smirk twitches. "Maybe. But she won't be the same as you doll."

Dean clears his throat and steps forward to pull you back into his chest possessively. "I think your ride's leaving." You don't have to look up into his face to know he's frowning.

Ben chuckles. "You know what kid? You're alright." His eyes flick back to yours. "You give me a call if you get bored with him."

"She won't." Dean snaps. “And don’t call me kid.”

Ben only laughs at him and steps closer to Cas as he begins to finish the ritual and when the portal finally opens, Ben goes through without looking back.

And you don’t feel guilty anymore, because you knew that Ben understood.

"Finally." Dean breathes a sigh of relief that makes you snort, dropping his head to your shoulder. It was so casual that you had to remind yourself that Dean loved you and you loved him.

Sam clears his throat. "Hey Cas will you help me with something in the library-"

"What do you have to do in the library?" Cas frowns at him confused.

"Just something come on-"

"But why-"

"CAS!" Sam shouts casting an obvious look in the direction of where Dean and you are standing.

Cas looks at the two of you. "Are they coming with us to the library?"

Sam huffs out a frustrated breath and grabs Cas by the back of his trench coat to drag him out of the kitchen so Dean and you can have a few moments alone.

You snort at the confused look on Cas's face when Sam drags him out, before you turn your body in his arms to look up into Dean's handsome face. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous it is to be jealous of yourself?"

"I thought he wasn't me?" Dean smirks, his eyebrow arching with his tease. His fingers are resting resolutely on your hips, thumbs softly trailing in circles.

"He is a little bit." You admit defeated. "But don't look so smug Winchester."

"I think I'm allowed to be a little bit." His smirk grows and he leans his face down to yours. Instead of feeling angry at the appearance of his smirk it only makes you smile.

Standing here in the aftermath made you see Dean in a different light, made your heart buckle and jump in your chest the longer you stood there in the kitchen basking in the warmth that began to bloom in your chest.

"Maybe…" You gently touch the front of his buffalo print flannel, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingertips. It looked good on him, very little looked bad on Dean.

"Do you regret staying with me?" He mutters.

"What?" You glance back up to see his face and notice that he's not smiling, he's frowning at you, and his eyes aren't as bright.

Dean clears his throat. "Well you seemed like you were really going to miss him and-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. You throw your arms around his neck and pull him back down to you, putting you everything you have into the kiss, hoping that Dean can feel how you have no regrets staying with him, that all you want is him.

"Dean Winchester." You breathe, moving your hands to cup his cheeks so he can't look away from you. "I do not regret staying with you, because I love you." You pull him as close to you as you can, his warm hands splayed over your back. "This is where I belong." You kiss him on the tip of his nose. "And this is where you belong. With me."

Dean's eyes warm the longer you hold his gaze. "I'm starting to believe you."

"Anything that I can do to convince you?"

"I can think of a few things…"

Ben/Soldier Boy POV

"Stupid, fucking piece of shit!" Ben growled at the computer monitor in front of him that had a bright red ERROR message splayed across it.

It had been two days since he'd left your reality, and he was trying his best to shove away the disappointment at the fact that you hadn't decided to come back with him. It wasn't that Ben wanted more than what the two of you had, it was that he liked having someone to talk to or try to talk to, and you were a good listener.

He didn’t like opening up to people, but there was something about you. He could trust you and Ben hadn't found anyone he could trust since he got back from Russia.

Ben also wasn't about to admit that he was lonely, he had plenty of women who were eager to warm his bed, but there was something about you that always made him feel different. He wasn't sure what that was exactly.

He'd also be lying if he said that he had wanted to explore it a little more if you'd come with him to his reality. The thought of you staying with him for an extended period of time in his apartment hadn't been unwelcome. Ben had never allowed other women to stay more than a day, but you… Ben would have let you stay as long as you wanted to.

Fuck.

He knew that he wasn't in love with you, but Ben knew he liked having you around. He liked being friends with you and he liked fucking you.

And yes he was disappointed that you had chosen Dean instead of him, but at the same time Ben didn't blame you. You had a history with Dean and when you'd been forced into Ben's reality, you'd talked to him a lot about Dean. Ben knew that you liked Dean more than you cared to admit.

But there was still an unwelcome feeling in the pit of his stomach that Ben wasn't accustomed to.

Ben huffed out a breath to push away the thoughts, while looking at what was left of the keyboard on his desk. The keys were scattered across the wooden top like bits of confetti, broken easily underneath his large fingertips when he'd tried to write an email

When he'd come back from Russia, Ben had taken a job working for the Department of Supe Affairs, but he was "grounded" due to the "anger issues" that he swore he didn't have, and because he didn't listen to Butcher whenever he gave him an order.

I don't need to follow orders. I'm Soldier Boy! I should be giving the orders!

Basically it meant that he was stuck on a desk indefinitely until Annie January, the new department head, released him. She'd also ordered that Ben go to company mandated therapy sessions once a week. He'd refused to go, but after Annie threatened him with termination of his contract, which meant that Ben would have gone back to being someone who "looked like someone who used to be famous," he'd gone to therapy.

And he refuses to admit this to anyone… but he liked it. Someone who was paid to listen to him bitch for a whole hour about whatever pissed him off and actually kept their trap shut was just what he needed.

Sometimes it reminded him of when he would talk to you, but there were still things that he refused to tell anyone and some of those things he had told you.

Ben ran his hand through his hair frustrated at his predicament. He would have liked to go into the field and take out some of his frustration on another supe, but Annie refused to give.

Ben didn't like listening to women, but even he had to admit Annie had a set of brass balls and he respected her for it. She didn’t take shit from anyone and especially didn't listen to Ben's bitching over why he should be in the field instead of being chained to a desk.

"Oi you all right mate?" Butcher calls and Ben can hear the shit eating grin without looking up from his computer screen.

The error message was still displayed in bright red letters, mocking him.

Ben knows that Butcher doesn't give a shit, and is probably about to start teasing him about his inability to adapt to modern day technology.

It wouldn't be the first time.

"Don't you have something better to do? Like fucking that little bitch that Annie is ploughing?" Ben spits back, clicking on the mouse but all it does is bring up another error message in another language.

"Oh mon ami, that doesn't look good." Frenchie walks by to stare at the computer screen that has now gone slightly fuzzy.

"I don’t think that's going to fix it mate." Butcher laughs. " But I called IT."

"I don’t need any of those four-eyed fucks helping me!" Ben snaps turning to narrow his eyes at Butcher.

He's holding a white cup of tea, wearing his usual long trench coat and Hawaiian shirt, with the shit eating grin that Ben knew Butcher was going to have when he looked up.

The last thing Ben needed was some nerd telling him everything that he did wrong. He was already on a first name basis with the director of the IT department, who was a little weasel of a man and who no longer picked up the phone when Ben called to yell at him.

"I think you're gonna want to listen to this particular four eyed fuck. She's new." Butcher gloats. "But don’t say I never did anything for you Soldier Boy."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ben shouts at Butcher's back, but he's already gone.

Ben turns back to the error message that has begun to flash an even brighter red and now has a countdown.

"Fuck, fuck fuck-" Ben growled and to remedy the situation he puts his fist through the computer screen. It makes a high pitched electrical popping sound, showering his desk in sparks, while the overhead lights flicker, before the screen goes completely black.

Ben was not stupid, but he was a little slow when it came to modern day technology. He was doing better than he had initially, but it was taking him a longer time to understand using his desktop computer at work than his cell phone.

"Hi, I'm from IT. Mr. Butcher called and said that you might need a little help." The voice was small and tentative, coming from somewhere on Ben's left.

"I don't need any help. Especially not from a fucking four-" Ben started to growl, but then he looked up and the words died in his throat.

Because the person standing next to his desk was you.

This version of you looked different. Ben was used to seeing someone in old band t-shirts, worn blue jeans, and flannel shirts, someone who carried themselves confidently and had a hardness surrounding their outer exterior that simply said "don't fuck with me."

But this version of you was softer and a little gentle. Your hair was longer and pushed back from your face by a simple black headband, you were wearing dark framed glasses, an oversized cardigan sweater that covered a simple pair of blue jeans, a striped blouse, and a pair of dark blue converse. The converse made Ben smile. He hadn't seen anyone wearing Chuck Taylors in a little while and it was a welcome sight, something from the past that he actually recognized.

The version of you Ben knew from Dean's universe flashed through Ben's mind again. She was more confident and outgoing, but you looked a little shy, hiding back in the cardigan and using the iPad in your hands as a welcome distraction to looking Ben in the eyes and like a shield.

He thought it was cute.

As much as Ben liked the version of you he knew who didn't shy away from anything, Ben found himself smiling at this one. You were definitely more soft spoken and a little less confident, but Ben could see a sweetness and sincerity in your eyes that he hadn't come across since he came back to the US.

It was the thing that always made him trust the other version of you, the part of him that made him want to tell the other version of you things that he hadn't told other people.

"I'm sorry." You say, even though you have nothing to be sorry about. "I-"

"No. I'm sorry." Ben clears his throat awkwardly and for the first time in a long time he feels nervous. He wasn't sure why that was, not to mention he never apologized to anyone, ever, but he didn't want to scare you away.

"It's okay." You give him a soft smile. "Computers can be frustrating, but sometimes it’s better not to put your fist through the screen."

Ben chuckles. "Probably not my best work."

You shake your head, a wider smile on your face, the motion of it sending the smell of your perfume over him, something floral and a little old fashioned. You look at the remnants of the computer and bite the inside of your cheek deep in thought.

Ben found himself tracing the furrow of your brows and the scrunch of your nose. You were beautiful in every reality to him.

"Well, Mr. Soldier Boy I don't think-"

"Please call me Ben." He interrupts.

Ben wondered if you were this shy all the time and if you'd be just as shy if he took you to bed. He wanted to find out.

Ben had slept with many women in his lifetime and he was usually drawn to women who were more confident and outgoing, sure of themselves, but there was something about your shy attitude that Ben found attractive.

"Ben." You say it in the soft voice of yours, cheeks flushed a little bit as if you're embarrassed to say it. "I don't think that there's anything I can do for this." Your hand waves over the computer. "But I can go talk to my boss and tell him you need another one."

"I'll go with you." Ben stood up.

He didn’t want to let you out of his sight, not when a part of him worried that you weren’t really there or you would evaporate into nothing before his very eyes.

"Oh, it's okay. You don't have to-" You stammer, shaking your head, and not quite looking at him as if making eye contact was a little harder for you.

"I want to." Ben smiles at you. He hears your heart beat quicken and can hear the small intake of breath you have when he smiles. "He's an asshole and I don't want him to chew you out for something I did." Ben explains.

It was partly true. The guy was an asshole. Not to mention, Butcher had said it was your first day and Ben wasn’t going to stand by and have the head of the IT department screaming at you when you had done nothing wrong.

"Oh." You clear your throat, cheeks blushing that cute pink color that makes Ben smile wider. "Well if you'll just follow me."

He hadn’t met someone like you in a long time. And even though he liked the other version of you, Ben was starting to like this one more.

"To the ends of the Earth doll." Ben winks and watches the flush of your cheeks deepen to a crimson and hears the way your heart buckles and jumps when he does.

And the longer he stands there watching you blush, Ben begins to feel an odd feeling flicker in the pit of his stomach racing up into his chest that he’d never felt before and for the first time in a long time Ben was curious to see where it could lead.

A/N: Alright we made it to the end and everyone got a happy ending! Thank you again everyone for all the love and support while I was writing this mini-series 💗

Reveal of the Poll:

🥫: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in a grocery store.

💻: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in the IT department.

Personally I liked the IT more, and the problem is now I really like the shy reader with Ben. They are so cute and now I'm hyperfixated on Ben with a shy reader so we'll see where that goes 🤣

Thank you so much for reading! As always likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, but are not required. I love hearing what y'all think!

Taglist For It's Not A Big Deal:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @livya99 @zepskies

@winchesterwild78 @ladykitana90 @spnfamily-j2 @whyyouegg

@suckitands33 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @s0uz4s @schinug @just-levyy

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @minas-fantasies @ladysparkles78

@mochminnie @peachhiz

@impala67stellawinchester @nancymcl @lunaleah @lightdancingwords @kamisobsessed

@justwhisperingfantasies @lunaleah @kamisobsessed @kmc1989 @djudy99

@chriszgirl92

@toxicfataldestiny @im-bili @anniebannanie0315 @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @schinug

@shara-ne @gaida-511 @xxmusic13luverxx @bakugotypecrashout @n-o-p-e-never

@thoughtfullyfurryangel @youroldfashioned

@marvelgeeka @myceliumsunshine @hobby27

@funkenniffler

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

chasing city lights

chapter 11 - flatline

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

cw: language

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after your day with rafe yesterday, the girls had so many questions and you told them everything, down to the song he wrote for you. what you didn't expect however, was that the song was going to be released in a few days time.

"i genuinely can't believe this," sarah started, "i mean him opening up to you? the commincation? the song? where is rafe and what have you done with him." she giggled.

"no y/n i don't think you understand the extent of this. like we've all been friends with rafe for a good 6 years, and i have never seen a girl have this affect on him before."

"guys stop you're making me think i'm some kind of miracle." you laughed with them.

"that's because you are a miracle." cleo joined in.

"so do you think you'll become official soon...?" sarah questioned.

"i don't know, the fans already think we are." you stated.

"the fans are fucking crazy. you'll get used to that i promise. when me and pope started dating everyone went bonkers over it." cleo reassured you.

"i guess so, it's okay i don't mind it, it's just getting used to seeing my face whenever i open twitter." you said. "whatever, we've got a flight to catch." you all finished your last minute packing and made your way into the car that was waiting for you outside the hotel.

part of you was sad to be leaving the state you had made so many memories in, but you knew heading back to new york all together was just the beginning for this new chapter for you and rafe.

once you made it to the airport, you found the rest of the boys who had left earlier as they all entered 'dad mode' and were getting stressed, john b to blame for that.

"finally you're here!" john b began as he saw you walk through the door.

"yeah thought we were gonna have to leave without you." pope said sarcastically.

"enough. we're here now aren't we?" cleo said rhetorically.

"yes ma'am" jj joined in, everyone was in agreement that cleo was the boss of the group.

you made your way to say hi to topper, who was slowly starting to become his usual self again, you assumed him and rafe had a conversation to try and clear the air.

but you eventually made it to rafe, who looked like his was patiently waiting his turn to get your attention, "hey you" he said.

"hey" you replied with a slight blush, "i didn't know you were actually going to release the song." you rushed out.

a look of concern took over him, "do you mind?" he asked worriedly.

"no! no i'm happy" you started, "but the fans are a little crazy."

"yeah i know they are and i should've warned you about that, but the best ones mean no harm and all you can try and do is ignore them." he replied.

"hard to ignore them when they're commenting on everything i post." you quietly said.

"i can say something if it really bothers you, okay?" he softly reached out to give your hand a squeeze.

"okay" you smiled at him, always putting you at ease.

"ok love birds pack it in," jj hollered "i don't think this plane is going to wait for us."

"whatever dude" rafe grinned, "ready?" he turned to you.

"ready."

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a/n: sorry guys i made this chapter a lot more smau, just as i had the idea to do the thread (which took me ages LAWD) and also wanted to get the song mentioned ! 5 points to anyone who knows the actual song and band🙈

taglist: @hoefordrewstarkey @marleymarleymarleymarley @bee-43 @cherryhoneybabe @skye-44 @drewrry @drewrry  @yesterdaysproblemm @pogueprincesa @dylsdaily @rafeysworldim19 @valyrianflower @kaiparkerwifes @judesgfirl @4urvalidation @chillgal135 @drewstarkeyslover @yesshewrites1@amterasuu@babykhloutofthisworld @blushmimi  @moonywhisp3rs @rafeysworldim19 @marleymarleymarleymarley@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account@vcnillafairy @bambii1i @sammyrenae68 @popou61

[blueraith]

"How could Vi not notice her sister is suicidal?!"

I feel like people who ask this question have a fundamentally immature understanding of depression and suicidal thoughts/actions, and how the two affect people OUTSIDE of the person suffering from these conditions. Perhaps you guys are young, and you don't know how to view this matter outside of yourselves and your own perception, but it is tragically common for people to miss seemingly "obvious" details that lead up to a loved one's suicide. "I didn't notice anything was wrong" is about one of the most common refrains you'll hear after the fact.

Let’s also remember that Vi does not actually know all of Jinx's emotional tells or signs of an impending episode. She is confused each and every time Jinx goes through one and almost always unintentionally triggers her. This because it's been SEVEN FUCKING YEARS since they've seen, spoken to, or lived together.

Neither Jinx or Vi actually know the current versions of each other very well, it's one of the reasons they keep hurting each other, and part of the tragedy of their relationship.

Look, I have depression. I've had it since I was about 15 or so. I can recall self-isolating or worse and assuming my parents or friends or a teacher would notice and rush to my aid or something.

Never happened. Because depression isn't always a very obvious condition. People mask in different ways, and not always with the conscious intention to hide their symptoms. Sometimes, people with depression mask simply because it makes it slightly easier to get through the day. Jinx's case would likely be even more difficult to spot because of the manic side of her condition.

I ended up getting the bulk of my care taken care of as an adult. Mostly because I could finally advocate for myself and I also realized that NO ONE is going to notice the more alarming symptoms of my own depression better than me.

This is not to say that you can't have a support network. Or that members of that support network WON'T spot something you've overlooked from time-to-time.

But Vi is not Jinx's support network. (Arguably Sevika is far better placed for that.) She might have gotten there eventually if Act 2 hadn't ended the way that it had, but that dream of the sisters being able to recreate their lost family was shattered and the progress they were making in getting to know each other halted at Jinx's realization that she needed to leave for Vi to move on.

I don't know, it's like some of you expect everyone in your lives or in other, unrelated media to have a 13 Reasons Why style reaction any time someone shows symptoms of suicidal thoughts or actions, or when one occurs. This is almost an absurd thing to expect out of anyone unfamiliar with what depression or suicidal thoughts actually look like. Like, if you're American, this idea that everyone everywhere is familiar with what a mental health crisis looks like is even more tragically farcical because we can't even admit that poor mental health is an aspect of mass shootings here as a society and culture.

And y'all expect the ex-con stuffed into a box since the age of 15 or so to be able to just instantly spot that her sister--again whose symptoms she's very obviously not familiar with--is going through a crisis event?

Like, damn, no one in this fandom is cut more slack than Jinx, and this entire criticism of Vi makes that more clear than any other. It's a position ironically devoid of any and all empathy, probably because y'all spent it all on Jinx, and assumes a sort of selfishness and coldness towards Vi that is in no way, shape, or form supported by canon.

It's honestly an argument that I dismiss entirely the moment a person attempts to make it. Largely because I am exhausted of how hypocritical this aspect of the famdom becomes towards Vi. Jinx's actions are a large part of the reason Vi sinks into alcoholism. She then proceeds to taunt Vi about it in the mines as if Vi's pain is nothing to her.

I NEVER hear anyone talk about that. It's almost always about how Vi should have done better. How Vi hurt Jinx. How Vi wasn't good enough.

It's some Grade A, Bonafide Bullshit™

Vi and Jinx were never going to ride off into the sunset together. If that is something you thought was going to happen and are now irrationally blaming Vi for because you're disappointed....? I don't know what to tell you. I personally thought it was pretty obvious that they were Doomed Siblings in this storyline and any potential, permanent reconciliation between them may happen in some far off sequel project or not at all.

[nightscythe]

the primarchs as dom/sub

sorry if this has been done before, I just couldn't get it out of my head. based this on my more dark view of the lore/universe and how I write them. there is a secret third (sixth?) option, vanilla.

nsfw, 18+ below the cut. mostly pre-heresy

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the lion: dom. top of the charts. in his everyone is there to serve him, and you are no different. into all that humiliation and degradation, thoroughly enjoys the way you writhe under him and beg him so desperately. he'll hold your face towards him and ask you if you really deserve him in that way. makes you beg until you're crying. he just looks at you lovingly and finally gives you what you want, not before he makes it agonisingly slow for you. will still please you just to prove a point and he's surprisingly good at it, especially with his huge hands and his tongue. loves you deep down, but truly believes its his place to be above you and telling you what to do. gets you to clean him up afterwards and maybe lets you lay with him.

fulgrim: switch. it's too easy to say he's into everything, but I do believe he would try everything at least once, and is happy to indulge anything he likes. sometimes that's putting a collar on you and admiring his view as he tells you step by step what you'll be doing next. sometimes it's being held down to the bed with the softest of ribbons as you pour hot wax over his chest. he wants to explore what there is to offer and if you're open to it, so is he. so that does mean odd things as well, unexpected little kinks and treats along the way. admires the marks left on both your skin and his, as long as its not permanent.

perturabo: soft dom. doesn't like giving up his control to you, but doesn't reach the hard limits of dominating you fully. his touch is soft and his words and commanding, but only because he is usually like that. probably prefers to not treat you like another one of his men behind closed doors... but still doesn't want you telling him what to do. most probably tried it once and hated it (secretly didn't mind it but he struggles with actually acting submissive, as much as he wanted to be babied some more). there's not many kind words, just pulling your hair where he wants you, grunting as a return of satisfaction, pushing your face into the mattress but giving you enough room to breathe. its a personality thing, really.

the khan: soft dom. he would explore with you, try many things to understand what they are and how they feel, but ultimately he wants to take care of you. the natural result of that is someone who's stroking your cheek and hushing away the tears as you choke on his cock for the seventh minute straight. calls you his baby (or like, something equivalent) as he watches you use him to get yourself off, whimpering and moaning his name, something which genuinely warms him. can make any day better for you, loves to whisper to you how much he cares for you, loves to make you forget anything bad happened with those hands and fingers of his. tucks you in afterwards, protects you with his whole being. aww.

leman: vanilla. my most controversial take. my feeling is he craves connection and someone who understands him, and he's a passionate lover. that isn't to say he wouldn't try being dominant or submissive (probably the latter less so) but his preference is vanilla. something pure filled with emotions. he's so caught up in the moment that he doesn't have time to stop and thinking about telling you to what to do and how to do it. he just goes with whatever happens. maybe externally he puts on a gruff and domineering persona but actually, that doesn't matter to him. he just wants to see you happy and whatever that takes he will do - so he'd happily try any of the kink stuff you wanted. just don't expect him to want to be called daddy/master/etc or submit to you.

dorn: switch. thought about him being vanilla but I don't think he would be. its an interesting world to explore. he's perceptive to whatever you need, but understands that one person has to take a submissive role, and one person a dominant role. maybe that goes to extremes sometimes and he's telling you to call him sir, or he's presenting himself to you tied up (because you may have enjoyed that), but mostly its just the soft things. likes it either way and lets you take control most of the time. only thing he's precious about is giving head, he will always do that in the most submissive way, like he's feasting on nectar from the gods, blessed with each move of his tongue. an interesting experience, to say the least.

curze: soft dom. thinks it is his place to be in control but isn't precious about it like some of his brothers. not as gentle or as caring as he could be during sex but he certainly takes the lead and has something to show about it. wraps his fingers around your neck, holds your hands down against the bed so you can't move, leaves bite after bite over your neck and chest until you're covered in a reminder that you are his. in the same vein, quite possessive, and his more dominant tendencies seem to come out of that is threatened. would probably overstimulate you to let out his frustrations and remind you again that you are his. greedy is the word. wants all of you, to himself, forever and ever. kinks is a different story, but is holding your head underwater until you cum a really dominant thing..?

sanguinius: sub. sorry but like, the first ever thing I thought about with him was calling him a good boy. a very soft lover in general, he lets you take control and thrives off being told how well he is doing, that he's the one who makes you feel this good. isn't afraid to whimper for you, lay down all his strength just so you can tie his pretty arms to the frame of a bed and stroke him over and over again until he begs for it. endures it all just so he can see you ride him. lets you push him around test him. oh, he loves it when you tease him. cockwarming. rubbing him through his clothes. whispering to him that he needs to wait, but doing everything in your power to make him cum there and then? would do absolutely anything for you.

ferrus: soft dom. a bit vanilla at first, with actions and feelings not being his strongest selling point. a man of practicalities seeks to understand everything about you and learn your interests. but of course strength and perfection is key to him. everything he does is dominant. it starts with seeking you out, pushing you against the wall, lips ghosting your ear as you feel how much he needs you. the smirk when he feels how wet you are from just... the thought of him. every movement is precise, and equally intense. you feel all of him, and he makes sure you understand that he is in control here. making up with him in this manner may result in more dominant, hot tempered moments, telling you exactly what he's going to do, and you're going to like.

angron: vanilla. maybe a bit controversial as well. was thinking soft dom but then changed my mind, he's just naturally imposing and domineering but not dominant. when he had the capability to understand love and relationships in that way, I feel it was very personal to him. he wanted to feel the truth, not arbitrary words of praise or command. so therefore it does not steer in a particularly dominant or submission direction for either of you, it's a moment of you being truly together. probably the least kinky as well imo. as time progresses it becomes more feral, more of an untamed desire, which is still unmatched to either side. personality wise he is probably more dominant though so take that as you will.

guilliman: soft sub. but like close to vanilla. he doesn't need to be told what to do or pushed around, but just a little guidance. someone to kneel beside him, stroke him slowly, maybe play around with him to test his limits, really learn to understand him. very eager to please you especially when he's between your legs looking up at you with his eyes wet and eyes devious. just tell him he did well, you enjoyed it. makes him come back for more. almost a bit timid, afraid he may hurt you in some way, shy as well. of course by the time he is resurrected he's just baby boy™ but also a regent so the second he has some time away from, you know, being the regent, he just wants forget everything else going on and get lost in you.

mortarion: dom. how could he be anything else? at first its just letting out his frustrations but then it's something more. primal. there's no maybes with him, no suggestions. he tells you what to do and you do it. sometimes he would be a bit softer, but its rare and usually when he's tired or his mind is elsewhere. he's in control of everything, he tells you when you can cum, he tells you when you can move, and god forbid you don't listen to him. if he hasn't given you permission well... its a week of edging and desperation for you. likes seeing you helpless before him. but when it's all finished and his needs are dealt with, he's got his arms around you and he won't let go. a weird way of registering his feelings.

magnus: switch. thought about this one too long. sometimes he'd love to be cared for, have his hair stroked as you praise him. other times, he's got you up against a wall and using all that size to his advantage. kind of like exploring what their is to offer, but his preferences do not lean towards dom or sub individually, maybe just a very small amount towards sub because he feels utterly useless without being told just how well he is doing. doesn't mean he's not smug about it when he finds you alone thinking about it. that's when his more dominant side comes out. if we are talking about demon form though it's definitely dom all the time.

horus: soft dom. it's not that he can't be fully dominant. he can. but why do it when he can be taken care of with soft kisses and making you happy too? hence the soft bit. likes to watch with his hand in your hair as you suck him off. tells you to take a little more of him and softly encourages you, never forces you. it's like a subtle hint, one you will get, or he'll just add a touch more dominance for show. discovers the daddy kink by accident and is fascinated with it. show daddy what a good girl you've been. holds your hands down as he's behind you. praises you gently and rewards you for small things during the day. probably loves going down on you as well as a reward for bigger things. but he'd never take it too far, he just enjoys the simpler things.

lorgar: sub. so eager to please. wants to be rewarded. he'd be on his knees for days if you'd let him, begging, wanting a small taste. even just your scent makes him hard. would wait for your command to do anything - touch himself, touch you, etcetc. whines and whimpers until you finally let him cum each time. at first its seems like he hates it but he does very much like it. any time you don't tell him what to do he looks lost and needs your guidance. based on this he would always let you be on top and especially likes it when he can look at you and worship you. every part of your body is divine to him. any time you're apart he's thinking of you and wondering when he will next get to hear your voice command him around. whipped.

vulkan: soft dom. super protective of you and isn't afraid to show it. has you take about your day as he goes down on you. tells you not to stop and looks to you curiously when you can't get your words out straight. is always so gentle though he could never reach the level of dominance like some of his brothers, its barely even soft dom - it's gentle, passionate, but every single one of his movements means something. tells you how well you are doing as you take his whole length and holds you close. likes hearing every sound you make and still asks permission to do everything, uttering things like may I? as his lips and tongue finds your body. really cautious of hurting you.

corax: dom. nothing soft about him. maybe to everyone else he looks like he would not value anything physical, but really, he's an absolute...menace? has you over his knee letting out his frustrations one spank at a time. likes it when you cry his name. rubs you through your clothes and laughs when you're an overstimulated mess on the floor. master/slave dynamic at some points. and it feels like it goes on and on for hours with him, he plays out fantasies in his head, has you on your knees then in his lap making you watch in the mirror as you cry and beg. but afterwards he would clean you up every time and fall asleep with you between his arms because he's quietly, and a lot less obviously, devoted to you too.

alpharius: soft sub. though he could be anything. i like to think one twin is soft sub and one is soft dom, which would technically make the single entity a switch. is it too late to change? considering I see him as a bit of a yandere it may be a bit of a surprise, but his darker side is outside the bedroom. inside, he is sweet and innocent, he's begging for praise and to be held. has you straddling his lap with your fingers in his mouth making him wait patiently for you to be ready to actually please him. handsy, touches you everywhere, barely contains himself around you. you'd get suspicious when he tells you to stop, throws you onto the mattress and takes you from behind... but hey, they don't know what each other are like. daydreams about you though. has a little notebook with hearts around your name but no one can see it.

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I know not everyone will agree but I hope I at least made you think!!

[buddiebeginz]

There's been a lot of discussion lately about when will Eddie come out and when Buddie canon will happen. I think a lot more people are feeling optimistic that it actually will happen now so the conversation has shifted into people being worried how this is all going to play out. I've seen people saying that if Eddie comes out and Buddie is fully confirmed this season (i.e. they confess their feelings/ there's a kiss) that would be way too fast. I have some issues with that line of thinking though.

For starters after Buck came out in season 7 we had a lot of new people join fandom (even more join during the summer hiatus), which I'm glad for all the new people who have found 911 particularly because the majority are now rooting for Buddie. Still I feel like a lot of the newer fan's opinions (on this topic) are being heard over some of us who have been in fandom for years.

I'm not saying if you're a newbie that your opinions on the show don't matter but I do think you should take the time to listen to those of us who have been around longer. The fact is if us long time Buddie fans hadn't been rooting for this ship for years we wouldn't even be as close to them becoming canon as we are. Buck likely wouldn't have had his bi awakening if not for us either. We've supported the show and pushed them for years to give these characters the storylines they deserve. That should matter when you're talking about something like how and when Buddie canon will happen.

I understand that people want Buddie to get together in just the right way but I think we all need to realize there is no one right way this will happen. We need to make peace now before it happens that there will be things about them coming together we won't expect even things we may not exactly like. All that matters is they finally get to take their relationship to that next level. That both Buck and Eddie get to realize their person their soulmate has always been right beside them. The other mains have had their person for years it's beyond time for Buck and Eddie to (consciously fully) have that too.

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I've seen people say that Eddie deserves a long journey to figuring out his sexuality and he needs to work on his mental health before being with Buck. And while I do think Eddie deserves more focus and screen time I don't see 911 doing a long drawn out thing with him. 911 typically does smaller 1-3 ep arcs for their characters. There's also the fact that they've been dropping hints for Eddie's coming out these past two seasons. Ones I'm positive they will connect back to other things throughout the series, like why it never worked out with him in his relationships with women.

I'm also personally not a fan of the logic that someone needs to do all these things to change themselves to be ready for love. Buck and Eddie have seen each other through their best and their worst. The show has literally made it a point to tell you that's what love is on numerous occasions. They said that love is about stepping into someone's mess with them. Why is it that Bobby didn't need to be a perfect person before he was worthy of Athena's love? Go back and watch season 1 Bobby was not in a good place when they got together. He was getting better but he was still struggling and up until the end of the season was still thinking about ending his life. But we see Athena "step into the mess" with him. She starts by going to church with him and we see them in s2 (early on in their relationship) talk about his past at different times.

I just feel like this fandom sometimes holds Eddie to unfair standards. He's been struggling for the past couple of seasons but I honestly think we're going to find out in 8b that it's connected to him having not felt able to live his truth. We saw in 806 that Eddie is starting to embrace joy and taking steps to fully be himself. That he's starting even in small ways to take ownership of what he wants and doing things for himself not because he feels obligated to.

I think him going back to Texas is not just to get Chris but the shows way of giving him a rebirth of sorts. They're bringing him back to where he's from and it's where I think Eddie is going to realize who he is and what he wants (Buck) and that him and Chris don't belong in Texas they belong in LA with Buck and the rest of their found family. And this time Eddie will get to make the decision to leave not based on fear or desperation or running away from his life but based on knowing where he truly belongs.

I know there's also a worry that if Eddie comes out in 8b it will feel rushed but the length of the story being told shouldn't be the main concern it should be how well the show tells it.

They could have him realize his feelings for Buck (because I do think him figuring out his sexuality is going to be tied to that) while he's still in Texas. That could be one whole episode just Eddie (like they did for Bobby in s7) or have it play out over a few eps. Then Eddie comes home and Buddie canon happens by the end of s8. I also feel like people are forgetting we have quite a few eps for 8b left to go so it's not like Eddie coming out and Buddie canon are both going to happen in 1 or 2 eps right after the other. It's very likely Eddie realizing his feelings will happen earlier and Buddie canon will happen in one of the last eps of the season.

Also even if they have Eddie come out in one ep that doesn't mean it's the end of him ever talking about his sexuality or facing any struggles with it. We haven't seen Buck facing much struggle when it comes to his sexuality but I think it will be different with Eddie. Even if Buddie officially get together in s8 in s9 we could still see things like Eddie having mixed feelings over being out especially when it comes to stuff like pda. Maybe we could even see Eddie talking to the priest again. Eddie coming out and Buddie canon happening doesn't mean it's the end of Eddie's sexuality journey it's just the beginning.

Like I said before we need to make peace that every part of these stories isn't going to make everyone happy but I think the last thing we should be doing when Eddie comes out and Buddie canon happens is look for reasons to criticize the show for how it happens. They will inevitably receive hate from bummys and people who will accuse them of making the show too gay. We can't add to that by complaining that a storyline didn't happen in a perfect way. If they actually finally go there with these characters we need to celebrate the show and be louder with our praise than any bs they'll get.

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On the subject of Buddie I've seen people say that if they confess their feelings for one another by the end of 8b it will feel rushed that the general audience won't get what's happening because the show hasn't set the groundwork for their relationship. I feel like I'm seeing this argument more from newer fans which I guess makes sense because to you it probably does seem like everything is moving fast. But for those of us who have watched Buck and Eddie's relationship develop over years and years this has all been a long long time coming in fact it's beyond overdue.

Some of you need to remember that Buck was supposed to come out in s4 (the shooting was likely to be the catalyst to him realizing his feelings for Eddie) and Eddie in s5 which means Buddie canon was likely to happen that same season. How can s8 be too soon when they were supposed to get together three seasons ago? They have literally been through almost everything Madney and Bathena have been through or some variation thereof. If Buck and Eddie were a straight couple they would have been married already. Buck and Eddie have spent 7 years building their relationship. Building a life and family together. Them finally admitting they're in love with each other is simply the natural progression their relationship should be taking from best friends (that have always been more than friends) to lovers. I think another reason people question if it's too fast for this to happen in s8 is because a queer couple like this has never happened on a show like 911 before. There's been plenty of slow burn straight couples. Which is why I'm positive if Buck and Eddie were a guy and a girl there wouldn't be this big debate over if it should happen now, people would be saying what the hell is this show even doing? Why haven't they kissed already?

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A big point about all of this that I feel like is being left out of the discussions is that 911 is made in the US and is first and foremost made for US audiences. I bring this up because as someone who is from the states it's very apparent there's a huge uprising of anti lgbtq rhetoric and legislation here right now. I know it probably seems unfathomable to some people that the US government could do something like ban lgbtq people from TV but there's already been pushes to ban things like lgbtq books on a state level so it could happen. But what is more likely is networks and companies have already started to capitulate to trump to protect themselves and their money. We have no way of knowing how bad things will continue to get with trump and how a network like ABC will behave in the future. We don't have the luxury to sit back and say let's wait until s9 or 10 for Buddie to officially get together when there's no certainty of what will even be happening in the US by the time those seasons are made.

Connected to that same topic of what's going on not just in the US but in other countries too. This attack on lgbtq rights means it's more important than ever for Buddie to finally be together. I know that 911 has always had queer characters and ships and they should always be respected for the important representation they've given on the show since day one (particularly characters like Henren and their family) but Buck and Eddie are ground breaking in a way we really haven't seen on TV before. Two men who are best friends and who have come out later in life. Who have fallen for each other over years of building their relationship. Who have spent years raising their son together. Who are an interracial couple. Buck and Eddie in a loving relationship together as a family with Chris is vital representation the world needs to see right now. That lgbtq people need to see. We need to see more depictions of queer joy in the face of all of this hate.

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I see people keep pushing back the time frame of when Buddie should officially get together when we were in s7 people were saying s8 now I've seen them say s9, I've even seen some people recently say s10. I need some of you to realize 911 is a network TV show and that this isn't the golden age of TV anymore. TV shows get canceled left and right sometimes for no reason at all. 911 itself was canceled from Fox after s6 not because no one was watching it but because Fox felt it was too expensive to make. 911 is a super successful show one that will likely go on to it's 9th season and that's an amazing thing when a lot of shows now barely even make it past like two seasons. But because 911 is so many seasons in and is so costly not just to make but also for the cast that means there's always a risk that it could get canceled again. I hope that 911 goes on for at least 10 more seasons but we can't guarantee that at all. The more we push Buddie back the more we run the risk of them not happening at all.

The other thing is I don't want Buddie canon happening at the end of their last season. I want to see how Buck and Eddie's relationship develops and changes once they're officially together. I want to see all the good and bad stuff they go through like moving in together and telling everyone (especially Chris). I want to see how their parents react. How that changes things for them at work. They deserve to have an epic love story just as grand as any of the other main couples have had.

To add to the point of us not knowing how long the show may go on for we also have no idea how long all of the actors plan to stay with the show. I'm not sure how long the contracts they've all signed are for at this point but they've all been with the show a very long time. It's clear they all love working together and I can't see any of them giving that up right now but that could change. We're lucky that Oliver and Ryan have continued to stay with the show after this many years but we can't guarantee they will stay forever. Eventually they could want to go off and work on something else or just get tired of playing the same character. The fact is everything is in the right place at the right time for Buddie canon to happen now. It has to happen now or it may not happen at all.

Also as much as some of you want them to drag out Buck and Eddie getting together I think you underestimate how long the fanbase is willing to hang on for. Like I said some of us have been waiting for Buddie to happen for years we're tired. I almost stopped watching the show after s6 I was that fed up with how they handled things. I'm positive if something doesn't change by the end of s8 that there are people who will stop watching.

I know some have said they want to see Buck and Eddie realizing their feelings and going into s9 pinning. I don't think the show needs to drag out their will they/won't they any longer. I've seen some people say well Buddie hasn't really had a will they/won't they because it wasn't explicit in the show. Buck and Eddie have never been written as just friends. Go compare them to Chim and Hen's friendship. There has always been more there between them always. Again if this was a straight couple people would be complaining constantly wondering why they weren't together yet. They don't have to be kissing for it to be a slow burn. They've done everything but though. I mean what do you call that scene in the kitchen in 3x09? Eddie literally put Buck in his will. He told Buck he trusts him above anyone else with Chris. Buck sobbed when he knew Eddie was going to be okay after he was shot (he's never reacted that way over anyone else on the show getting hurt). Eddie counted the seconds when Buck wasn't breathing. These two men love one another they just haven't admitted it yet.

We don't need more time to tell this story. 911 hasn't always gotten it right (see the weird Vertigo story) but when it's good it can be fcking amazing. The shooting eps are some of my fav eps of tv ever and not just of 911. I have faith in Tim and the show. Tim has wanted to put Buck and Eddie together for a long time and I know he knows he only has one chance to tell this story and get it right. I have faith that him and the actors and writers will do the story justice however it gets told. I know they know it means a lot to so many people. And you know the truth is we're lucky that our ship is even at this point. That we can all debate about how Buddie canon should happen because we're all so sure now that it is in fact happening. Cause the show was very close to ending on a finale that had Buck and Eddie ending up with other partners. Buddie would have only been able to continue to live on in fanon. Instead I truly believe we are months away from the show making history.

[utilitycaster]

Imo (as someone who didn't watch the finale, so I'm happy to be wrong), one of the bigger problems with the ending that isn't being discussed is that religions don't work like that. I'm not talking about cosmology or divinity, which people have already spoken on plenty, but the people who actually believe the beliefs.

There are people who believe their god was in some way mortal (Buddhists, some Christians), but they still practice the belief. I'm Jewish, and if it was definitively proven that God isn't real, I would still be a practicing Jew. The gods of Exandria becoming mortal would definitely cause schisms and theological debates, but the gods as concepts would continue to hold power regardless of their mortality or continued existence. Vasselheim would change, but it wouldn't be rocked to its knees.

Obviously, the cast has their own biases and thoughts on religion. That's understandable, but in a campaign and world that is increasingly about How Religion Amd Gods Shape Things, why is religion treated only as a plot point and not a dynamic of understanding the world, yaknow?

This is a hard question to answer since I think to truly give a good answer I'd need a thesis statement and several weeks of writing, but in short, as myself a practicing Jew and philosophically somewhere between weak and apathetic agnosticism I agree that Exandria as a setting did a good job of exploring individual faith/devotion to divinity, and a very bad job of exploring the concept of religion on an anthropological level.

I do think the fact that most of the people with whom I can have a conversation about this are either fellow non-Christians existing in a Christian dominated society; left-leaning Catholics from a rigorous intellectual tradition in the Protestant-dominated US; or people who left a more conservative Christian sect for a more progressive one and in doing so interrogated the nature of religion and faith is telling. I think if you were raised strictly Christian and either swore off religion entirely (the ex-Evangelicals who never unlearned lack of empathy/self-centeredness and simply applied it in a different direction) or were raised Christian but not particularly religious and live in a culturally Christian society in which that is the norm and thus you never had to see yourself as a person with an identity and a practice outside said norm, you are far more likely fail to adequately notice this as a problem with Exandrian worldbuilding.

Something that struck me as I thought about this (on my solo walks to and from synagogue today, no less) is that I am someone who for various reasons, academic, religious, and otherwise, has spent a lot of time thinking about the role of ritual in daily life. And the thing is, "ritual" has in many cases been coopted into a thing you do very much for yourself, often with a capitalist slant - self-care as consumption as ritual. (If you look up companies named Ritual, it's zero proof spirits and vitamins/supplements and takeout). It is individualist and is intended to soothe one's self.

Ritual is far more than that. Ritual is a sign of community. It is a means of remembrance. It is a reminder to look outside of yourself. We light candles on Friday night not for ourselves - indeed, we are prohibited from using them as a light source - but to welcome someone of something else. We blow the shofar to wake ourselves and our community up to what we can can change and do better.

Jester and Caduceus are in my opinion the strongest practitioners of ritual across campaigns, but both are from very small groups of practitioners. We meet many clerics and adherents, but their stories or their experiences with religion as part of daily life are largely untold.

And this is just about ritual, which is in many cases neutral or even positive, but as discussed there is no real hegemony - Vasselheim holds respect and serves as a vault for divine secrets, but outside of that has little political sway. Caduceus and Fjord do not answer to Hierophant Ophera. We also see very little of those theological questions or debates - one must imagine they occur, but it, like the world of ritual or religious service, feels oddly empty. There are temples, and there are keepers of those temples, but the temples always feel like they pop into existence for the PCs and vanish when they're not present. I remember during Campaign 2 there was a great discussion of how D&D offers a concept of religion without the need for faith in the unseen - the gods exist definitively - and it just feels like that's never been reflected meaningfully in the world of Exandria, and that wasn't really a problem with Campaigns 1 or 2 and it very much was with the concepts C3 attempted to tackle.

[bluhourz]

when he yells at you

-

After a few days apart, you finally had an evening to spend with Beomgyu. You’d missed him more than you realized, and the moment you walked through his door, his presence alone made you feel at home. But something felt off. He hugged you tightly at first, holding on for just a second too long, before pulling away with a sigh.

“You okay?” you asked, searching his face.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, offering you a small smile. “Just tired.”

You could tell there was more to it, but you didn’t want to push. Instead, you laced your fingers through his and pulled him toward the kitchen.

“Come on,” you said. “Let’s make dinner together. We haven’t done that in forever.”

Beomgyu groaned dramatically as you tugged him along. Flopping onto the counter, he sighed excessively. “Do we have to? Can’t we just order something?”

“Nope,” you grinned. “I'm in the mood for something specific so homemade ramyeon it is.”

He sighed but didn’t protest further, instead watching as you gathered the ingredients. You knew he actually also preferred this, even as he argued against it. After a few moments, he started helping — chopping green onions, cracking eggs, even playfully poking at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. It felt nice. Comfortable. He wasn’t as talkative as usual, but you didn’t push him. You tried to keep things light, telling him stories about your week and cracking dumb jokes, hoping to ease whatever weight he was carrying. He laughed a little, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

When the ramyeon was finally ready, you carefully lifted the pot to dish it up. But as you set it down, your grip slipped just slightly, and some broth splashed onto the counter. You didn't think too much of it since this is something you do more often than not.

Before you could grab a towe thoughl, Beomgyu suddenly yelled, “Seriously? Can you just be careful for once?”

You froze, startled by the sharpness in his voice. Your heart lurched in your chest as you turned to look at him, not understanding what just happened. But his gaze was hard, his brows furrowed in frustration.

“I—” you started, but you caught yourself. Instead, you swallowed and nodded. “Sorry.”

Beomgyu exhaled harshly, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t say anything else, but the mood had shifted completely. You finished serving the food, setting his bowl in front of him before sitting down.

The air between you was heavy. Neither of you spoke as you ate, the only sounds in the room being the quiet clinking of chopsticks against bowls. You kept your eyes down, not daring to meet his gaze. The whole time you were trying to figure out what just happened.

Dinner felt like it lasted forever though. When you were finished, you got up wordlessly and started washing the dishes. You couldn't sit there any longer than you needed to. The running water filled the silence, giving you something to focus on besides the weight in your chest.

As you scrubbed the last bowl, you sensed someone behind you. You turned your head slightly and saw Beomgyu standing in the doorway, watching you. You could see he wanted to talk so you waited him out.

After a few minutes of silence, you decide to head to bed. You met his eyes as you walked in his direction, but you didn’t say anything. As you went to walk past him, his hand reached out, fingers curling gently around your arm.

“What is it?” you asked quietly, glancing at him quickly.

Instead of answering, he pulled you into a hug. You stiffened for a moment, surprised, but then slowly brought your arms up to wrap around him. It felt like he needed it. He clung to you, his face buried in your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

You stayed still, waiting.

After a moment, he spoke again. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him. His expression was tight, his lips pressed together like he was holding something in.

“What’s wrong Gyu?” you asked gently.

Beomgyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just… I don’t know. Everything’s been piling up lately. Schedules, expectations, feeling like I have to be ‘on’ all the time. And then I finally get to be with you, and instead of being happy, I’m just… tired. Frustrated. And I took it out on you.”

You searched his face, taking in the exhaustion in his eyes, the slight downward curve of his lips. Your heart ached for him.

“You could’ve just told me,” you said softly. “You don’t have to act like everything’s fine all the time.”

He let out a shaky breath. “I know. I just—I didn’t want to ruin our time together. But I ended up ruining it anyway.”

You shook your head. “You didn’t ruin anything, Beomgyu. You’re allowed to have bad days. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

His grip on you tightened. “I don’t deserve you.”

You frowned. “Don’t say that.”

“I mean it,” he murmured. “You’re always so patient with me. Even when I really don’t deserve it.”

You reached up, brushing his hair out of his eyes a bit. “You always deserve kindness. Even when you’re struggling. Especially then.”

His eyes softened, and for the first time that night, you saw a hint of the Beomgyu you knew—the one who loved teasing you, making you laugh, holding you close just because he could.

“Come on,” you said, nudging him gently. “Let’s get ready for bed.”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Okay.”

The two of you moved through your nighttime routine together—brushing your teeth, washing up, changing into comfortable clothes. It felt normal again, like the tension from earlier had finally started to fade.

As you climbed into bed, Beomgyu pulled you into his arms, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” he whispered.

You smiled, threading your fingers through his hair. “I love you too.”

He sighed, his body relaxing against yours. “Thanks for being here.”

“Always.”

With that, you let the quiet settle around you, his warmth and steady breathing lulling you both into sleep, the heaviness of the night finally giving way to peace.

[yetanotherexhaustedalchemist]

I don't know if it's been said or if this makes any sense, but I don't really agree when people say that Odysseus was finally completely rejecting the idea of Open Arms when he shot Eurymachus. Like. That was not Open Arms.

Polites' Open Arms was always about beginning a relationship/interaction with genuineness and a desire for diplomacy and peace. It was never a way to avoid the consequences of your actions. Polites' Open Arms was a way to avoid conflict before it got out of hand, but Eurymachus was just looking for heartstrings to pull on to escape what he had coming. I don't think it's a stretch to say Odysseus knew this. Even if he doesn't understand Open Arms fully, even if he's decided that he can no longer afford to give the benefit of the doubt, he knows that this is not what Polites stood for. And honestly, what could be more disrespectful to Polites' memory than using a hollow caricature of his philosophy in an attempt to get away with everything Eurymachus did? Odysseus knew, and he punished Eurymachus for even daring to try to sully Polites' memory, intentionally or not.

You know who I think really gets Polites' Open Arms, even if they don't know it?

Telemachus.

When confronting the suitors as a warrior of the mind, even after they have done nothing to deserve it, Telemachus gave them a genuine opportunity to make amends. BUT he was also very clear that this was a final ultimatum, and that he wouldn't hold back if they didn't surrender. He put the ball in their court, and when they showed their hand, he acted accordingly.

In some sense, Telemachus is everything that both Athena and Polites wanted to see in Odysseus. Even if he never met Polites, I think it's sweet that Odysseus will be able to see his best friend's philosophy have the chance to grow into what it was always supposed to be. That his son will get the opportunities to be merciful that he was never given.

On a slightly different note, I also think a lot of people assume Open Arms, and Polites with it, to be very pacifistic. I think that's a good and valid assumption/interpretation, but I always saw it differently? Polites might be idealistic, but I don't think he's naive. He's a trained soldier, he went through a 10 year long war. You don't go through that and think that peace is always the solution, or even always possible.

Polites was also a strategist, but a different kind.

To greet life with open arms is, like I said before, to enter each interaction and situation with an honest desire for diplomacy and peace. By showing the enemy all your cards and giving them a no-strings-attached opportunity to reach a compromise, you can minimize the need for conflict before things even get the chance to escalate. Ideally, a deal can be made, and both sides can leave unharmed.

And if they refuse the offer of Open Arms, you've learned a great deal. This situation cannot be solved peacefully, and the enemy refused mercy when they had nothing to lose and everything to gain, so you can expect them to not grant you mercy. Thus, you can't let it get to that point. No more holding back.

All that is to say, I personally see Polites as more of the "be nice first, because you can always be mean later, but once you've been mean to someone, they won't believe the nice anymore. So be nice, be nice, until it's time to stop being nice, then destroy them" type.

I'm gonna go to bed now.

[kittendreaw]

Actor! Satoru x F! Reader.

Mainlist

Pt.2

Satoru was on top of the world, he was the prince of Hollywood, the new heartthrob of the big screen, sounds fantastic, doesn't it?

It was for everyone except you, his poor manager, the only reason you haven't quit is because of how ridiculously good the pay is.

"Just Please make my job easier Satoru." You couldn't help but be frustrated, Dealing with Satoru was sometimes like dealing with a spoiled brat and sometimes it was just worse.

"Well, I'll pay you for that."

"You pay me to be your manager, not your babysitter so please stay here and cooperate."

And of course he didn't because it was complicated, no matter how long he had been in the industry he was still a pain in the ass for assistants, makeup artists, directors, photographers, etc. Basically anyone who had the misfortune to work with him.

It was always the same, you should be used to it by now but it was impossible.

"What do you mean you're not going to come with me?"

"It's not that hard to understand."

He rolled his eyes while his arms crossed over his chest. No matter your size or how high your heels are, Satoru was simply giant in front of you. "Don't be a Smartass, Yn, you're my manager, you have to come with me."

"Nanami will do the job of going with you that night."

"but I don't want Nanami! "

"I'll be busy with some paperwork that night."

" Well, have Nanami do the paperwork and you come with me."

" It's not that easy."

Yes, it was that easy but you hated big events and going to the Oscars was torture for you, you had managed to get away on most occasions but Satoru was getting more and more insistent.

"Why?"

You let out a sigh, you could make up as many excuses as you could he just always kept asking.

"Satoru, look, I don't want to go."

"Why?"

"I don't know I just-" You could deal with people, that was no longer the problem but you still don't get used to all the cameras ready to capture every second.

"Why do you mean? It's not that hard, you just have to get pretty and come with me, you can do that."

"But I don't want."

"But you don't want." He repeated, clearly he was not happy and clearly not the day was not going to end without him getting what he wanted. There was a pause in which no one said anything. "I'm your boss, you can't tell me no."

"You should review workers' rights, Satoru."

"Dammit." He muttered. "Just say yes, please. I swear it won't be so terrible, besides I already bought you a dress, it would be rude of you to refuse it."

A pair of puppy eyes and a few more pleas and just as he wanted it, there you were with the pretty burgundy dress, the high black heels and gloves of the same color.

"Look at you, you are beautiful."

Satoru approached you, observing every detail of your appearance. It was true that the dress was pretty and that the makeup artist had done an excellent job, but you couldn't help but make your stomach churn every time you remembered the place you were going.

"But I know how to do it even better."

Satoru called one of the attendants who held out a box from which he pulled out a diamond necklace. It was beautiful and also damn expensive, it was the kind of thing you'd never pay for but always admire from afar. Satoru put it around your neck giving the final touch to your look that night.

"I-" It was too much for you, you couldn't accept it.

"Not a single word, tonight you have to stand out, after all you are my date." You felt your soul leave your body for a few seconds, you had planned to stay as hidden as you could but Satoru wanted you next to him posing for the cameras, this was definitely too much, much more than you were ready to do, you couldn't, Your mind was only thinking about all the negative possibilities this could bring and all the embarrassing things you could do. You wanted to throw up, was it too late to get back to the paperwork plan?

"What?"