#i don't feel like asking for my teacher all the time

[inspired-lesson-plans]

From

#I was actually reading a study on this today

#they’re actually useful for brain-related things like test anxieties and migraine pain

#the placebo effect is actually so effective that you can imagine taking pills and see a reduction in some symptoms

#which is something I personally do for headaches when I’m on the go

#the brain is wild

@elldritch-horror, I think I found the study you were reading, or at least a related one. Apparently Buergler et al (2023) broke the test-anxiety-suffering undergrads into three groups :

Take Open Label Placebos (like the Zeebos)

Take imaginary placebos (literally playing pretend multiple times daily)

Don't do anything about it at all

And guess what... both of those bogus treatments had real effects! Even non-deceptive placebos are pretty good!

This post is now about the fact that I have wanted to sell "honest placebos" for years.

First of all, they work. In fact, just a quick little bit of research revealed that it's common for medical practitioners to give their patients placebos (if it's not serious) because it's cheaper and doesn't have any side-effects (Wernsdorff et al, 2021). And when researching new medical treatments, so-called "deceptive placebos" are so potent that researchers will give participants Open Label Placebos (like the Zeebos), and even these result in statistically significant effects on patients! (Gupta and Verma, 2013)

Second, as a teacher I can think of 3 kinds of kids who would immediately benefit from this.

Hypochondriacs who legitimately cannot tell whether or not they are unwell and are probably really anxious about asking to go to the nurse all the time

Avoidant kids who want an excuse to leave class for 10-30 minutes.

Very impressionable kids whose stomach pains and headaches really can be treated with placebos.

Give them a placebo (deceptive or not), tell them to wait it out for 15 minutes, and if it doesn't get better, then they go to the nurse. Thus, they stay in class and aren't bothering the already-overworked nurse.

In America (at least in New Jersey), teachers aren't allowed to give any kind of medicine to minors. I cannot imagine getting in trouble for giving placebos.

Even if you're a grown adult, if you're feeling symptoms of some kinda illness but you don't know if you're sick, you can take a placebo. If the symptoms go away, you don't have to worry about it. I get headaches a lot, and I would love to know if taking a few cheap sugar pills would do as much good as 1000mg ibuprofen. I'm going to take a hot shower to relax my muscles anyway, and if my headache is still there afterwards then clearly I need the medicine.

My only criticism is... ugh, those look terrible to swallow. Make them soft-gels or make them sugar-coated so they're pleasant to swallow. Also, get better graphic design! That bottle looks like a prop from a 2000s SyFy Channel movie. I want to feel delighted that I'm taking an Open Label Placebo!

Footnote, I found this while reading How To Winter, so take that as you will.

well I guess this is the logical next step in, you know. everything

[flanaganfilm]

Dear Mike,

I'm writing my first novel, a horror story about giant cicadas that hypnotise people into moulting. It's a metaphor for drug addiction. In my opinion, horror is its best when it's also a commentary, or a reflection, on something real that afflicts society, like capitalism, xenophobia, or intergenerational trauma. I'm nearly 6 months clean, and though it wasn't my intention, this book is helping me come to terms with how bad things were, and how hard I had to work to get out of that life.

You tackle a lot of the toughest parts of the human experience in your work: loss and grief, mental illness, addiction, trauma, recovery... How do you write about those things without falling too deep into memories of what they felt like? My creative writing professor says there's no place for grief in horror, but I know she's dead wrong. My novice guess is that drawing from experience to make a character's trials feel more "real" makes their stories more immersive and empathetic. What do you think? Do you have any advice for how to emotionally detach for your characters, or how to balance grief and terror in a story?

Thank you, Fíona

Hi Fiona, First, a huge congratulations on 6 months. That's an amazing feat. Second, your creative writing professor is embarrassingly wrong when she says there is no place for grief in horror. That's so wrong, in fact, it should disqualify her from teaching creative writing. (Or, perhaps this is a rare creative writing teacher who simply hasn't been exposed to Charles Dickens, Henry James, Shirley Jackson, Edgar Allan Poe, or Stephen King. Ask her to go read Don't Look Now by Daphne du Maurier, and then explain that there's no place for grief in horror. What an embarrassing thing to say.)

I don't emotionally detach from my characters at all, far from it. When it comes to truly facing my own traumas, darkness, grief, shortcomings, fears, and insecurities, I have far more courage when I'm writing than I do in day-to-day life.

It can be tough to fall too deeply into the dark places, or the memories - there's at least some measure of safety to such expeditions when I'm writing. It can be similar to the kind of safety I find in therapy. Sometimes, a character scares me because I can't relate to them at all (Beverly Keane). Other times, characters are so close to my self that it's impossible to separate them in my mind (Riley Flynn). Drawing from experience is a brave and beautiful act, and infuses your fiction with authenticity, nuance, and humanity. Best of luck with your writing. And whatever you do, don't listen to that teacher. Apologies, but she's full of shit.

[spidybaby]

The Lucky One

Summary: Fer tries to play Cupid with you, and it ends up not being what he expected.

Warnings: name calling, cursing, secret relationship.

A/N: Hello my shaylas, how are you??? I'm finally back. After trying for days to post, tumblr allowed me to do it! Love you all. I hope you are having an amazing day ❤️

"When are you going to let me set you up in a blind date?" Fer asks.

You roll your eyes. "Why can't I just stay single?" You ask.

Fernando hugs you by the shoulders, he laughs at how you are frowning your eyebrows.

"Vamos, there's nothing wrong with being single." He says. "I'm just worried about you."

You frown even harder. Looking at him with a confused look on your face. "Why?"

"Joder! I met you a little over a year ago, and you never introduced me or any of the guys here to a boy or talked about a love interest."

You take his arm away from you. "I'm sorry I've been busy with life." You say, walking to the fridge.

You met Fernando in a culinary course. He was the second chef in charge. You bonded with him when you asked him to help you with some recipes.

He stayed some extra time with you in the kitchen where the class was taking place. He made sure you understood everything.

You two created a nice friendship. You even invited him to your birthday. It was something genuine and very respectful.

You two were in your house, you were practicing the last dish of the course. You needed to make it perfectly to be able to pass the course.

"You are mixing the wrong way." He says, smiling at you.

He takes the bowl to his side, grabbing the spoon and showing you how to do it.

You sigh. Rolling your eyes and grabbing back the bowl.

"Who do you even want to introduce me to?"

Fernando smirks, taking his phone out of his pocket. "He's a friend of mine, I promise you are going to love him."

You shake your head no at his exciment.

"One thing, I don't do clubs." You point out. "I don't feel like meeting someone on a very crowded place."

Fer nods, texting quickly.

"What about my house?" He suggests. "My parents are not going to be there, and my brother is busy during the evening."

You nod, agreeing to his crazy proposal.

"Okay, my house, this weekend." He smiles. "Lunch will be."

"Okay, I'll do my best to not have a bitch face the whole evening."

"Great!" He says. "Now, you are mixing it wrong again."

☁️☁️☁️

"You are here!" Fer says, opening the door to his house. "My friend is almost here." He explains.

He grabs your wrist, pulling you inside of the house. You two walk into the house and in the kitchen.

"Ve!" He says, hurrying you to go into the backyard.

You open the door, already feeling uncomfortable. You find two boys and one girl. You say a shy greeting to them.

"Chicos, she's Y/n." Fer introduces you to them. "This is Pam." He says, pointing to a girl. "This is Adrian, he and Pam are a couple."

"Hola!" They both say.

"This other one is Mike." He points to the last one. "He's a friend from Tenerife."

"Nice to meet you." You smile.

You start a small talk with Pam. She was nice and tried to make you talk and get to know the others.

"And I study to be a teacher." She says.

You smile at her. You tell her about yourself. She was very interested and asked you some questions.

"So you think Fer is a food chef?" Adrian asks, a mischievous tone behind the question.

"I do, he's very helpful."

"He once burned the chicken." Mike says, both Adrian and him were looking at Fer in a funny way.

"One time!" He laughs. "Y/n, can you help me with something?" He asks.

You nod, excusing yourself and walking inside the house.

Fer asked you to help him with some snacks. He trusted you more than what he trusted his cousin with flavor.

You joke with him about that burned chicken. He was trying to act as if that didn't really happened and it was because his little brother distracted him.

You take the snacks out and walk back to see if Fer needed any more help. You find him texting with one hand, and the other is mixing something that is on the stove.

"Don't burn that." You say.

"One time!" He repeats. "And it was my brother's fault."

"Was he cooking?"

He was about to answer, but the doorbell interrupted him. You have a feeling on who it is. Mostly because Fernando has this smirk again.

"I'm getting it." He says, turning the stove off and rushing to the door.

You like to say that you don't care about this "blind encounter" or whatever this is supposed to be.

Yet you can't help but check your hair and check if you look presentable. As much as you hate the idea of being in this situation, you at least want to look good.

You take a deep breath, only a few hours, and then you can ghost this guy. Nice and smooth. Or maybe you are actually going to like this guy, and maybe it's going to be a nice evening.

"Ya volvimos!" Fer says, walking to the kitchen with this tall, blonde guy. You tried your best to hide your emotions.

You can't help but feel a little comical. Fer really never asked you what your type was. You definitely were not into blonde guys.

Strike one.

"This is Daniel." Fer introduces the guy.

"Hola," you smile at him. "I'm Y/n."

"Fer told me a lot about you." Daniel smiles.

"I'm checking on the others. You guys can talk here." Fer says, leaving the two of you alone in the kitchen.

You two stood there in an awkward silence. You try to think of something to say that makes a nice conversation.

"Fer told me you are a chef." He says, getting a little closer.

"Not quite a chef." You chuckle. "I'm just learning to cook some fancy dishes." You explain. "Want to go out with everyone?"

"Mmm, let's sit on the couch." He smiles.

You nod, walking with him to the couch. You act quickly and sit on the single one. Letting him sit on the large one that was next to the one you are in.

"What do you do?" You ask, trying to keep the flow.

"Not much." He says, shrugging.

"Are you in college?" You try to ask something again.

"Yeah, I do." He smiles.

You smile back, very awkward at how bad this was going. You two just seat there, the horrible silence that was created by the lack of conversation was killing you.

"I heard that you like to play basketball." You say, remembering a little of what Fernando described him to be.

"Oh, I do." He says, very monotone tone. "I think people are more focused on football these days, but I've been training since I was a kid and-"

You zone out after a few seconds. Couldn't he just say < yes, I do > and move out with the topic?

"And I really think that the Lakers are better than the Warriors."

"Yeah, I like tennis." You say, trying to change the subject.

"Oh, I like tennis too." He says in a happy tone. "Who's your favorite player?"

"Serena Williams."

He chuckles. "I mean, yes, she's a tennis player, in theory." He starts.

Don't say it, you think.

Don't.

"But who's your favorite real tennis player?"

You hang your head low. "Nadal." You sigh.

Second strike.

"Let's go with the others." You say, getting up and walking straight to the garden.

The way Pam smiled at you and patted the chair next to her was so cute to you.

"Was it bad?" She asks, whispering so no one else hears.

"I mean, he still has one strike." You chuckle.

You two talk about different topics. You really got to know her and like her. Maybe that can be a consolation for the blind date thing.

You won't walk out of there with a "boyfriend" like Fernando wanted you to, but you definitely will walk out with a new friend.

"Hey, Y/n." Daniel calls you.

You turn to him, humming so he can say what he needs to say. You were eating the food that Fernando prepared.

"You asked me about basketball, maybe you can drop off at tomorrows practice."

Was that his idea of a date?

Was that even an invitation for a date?

"I'll think about it." You say, smiling lightly.

"Yeah, maybe we can go out and see that femenine tennis game at the bar that's close to where I train."

"Oh, you like tennis?" Mike asks, smiling.

"I do, I trained and played a good number of games when I was a kid-"

"She likes Serena Williams." Daniel says. "Like I asked her for a tennis player, not a lady with a racket."

Everybody fell quiet. He definitely thought that I was going to be a funny joke and that everyone was going to burst out laughing.

"I like Serena Williams too." Pam says. "I think she's the best and some of the younger girls on tennis really look up to her."

"Do you guys want more salad?" You ask, trying to change the topic. "It's amazing."

"Yeah, Fer." Adrian says. "Thank you, hermano. This is amazing, thank you for not burning it."

"One fucking time!" Fernando laughs.

You all laughed at him, and he started to say how much his reputation mattered to him, that the burned food was ruining it.

"Do you need help with the dessert?" You ask him, seeing that he got up to go back inside.

"The last you can do after ruining my reputation." He jokes.

You walk inside with him. Helping him with serving some ice cream into cups. You help him with taking them outside.

"I'll be right back." You say to Pam, who wanted to tell you something.

You notice Fer washings his hands on the sink. You had caramel on your hands also, so you needed to wash them too.

"Fer, where is your bathroom?" You ask, sticking your hands together to play with the caramel on them.

"It's the door in front of the stairs, almost at the front." He points.

You nod, walking to the entrance. You find the bathroom, but the problem now was that your hands were sticky with caramel.

You tried with your elbow, but it was no use. Try with your arm, but it was too heavy for it to open up.

"Quieres ayuda?" You hear someone say behind you. (Do you need help?)

You turn, finding a boy. He definitely was Fernando's brother because they do look alike.

"Si, please." You smile at him. "I have caramel all over my hands, and I can't open it."

He chuckles. "We all been there." He says, trying to make you less worried.

"Gracias, mmm?" You humm, trying to get him to tell you his name.

"Pedri." He says with a smile.

"Gracias, Pedri." You repeat, but this time you say his name.

He does this winking with both eyes. You can't help but find that attractive in some way. He was like a remastered version of Fernando.

A better one, you may say.

"If you need help with something else, I'll be in the kitchen." He smiles.

You nod, smiling at him. "Gracias." You repeat, walking inside the bathroom.

You wash your hands quickly, a part of you want to rush to be able to meet Fer's brother in the kitchen.

The other knows that if Fernando finds out you are trying to make a move on his brother, he will be mad.

Maybe that was the reason why he had never talked about him before. Maybe he was just nice to strangers, and was that annoying boy Fer always yap about.

You walk back to the living room. Thankfully, the kitchen was right next to it, so it was easy for Fer and Pedri to see you walking back.

"The caramel is gone." You say to fer, showing him your hands.

He chuckles, "Hey, this is Pedri." He says, turning to where pedri is, giving him a small hit on the head. "My little brother."

You nod, smiling at him. "Nice to know the one you blame for the burned food." You mess with Fer.

"Jo'er!" Pedri laughs. You can't help but find his laugh so cute. "Don't believe him, I wasn't in the house that day."

You giggle, looking at him.

He was also looking at you.

"Y/n is the one who made the lemon cake from the other day." Fer explains to Pedri. "He loved it, ate almost every slice of it."

You smile while bitting your lip. "Glad to know someone liked it." You say to Pedri.

"Buaf, liked it is not enough." He chuckles. "I broke my diet, so worth it."

"I can bake some for you."

Pedri nods, smiling like a little kid.

Fer calls your name from the backyard. You smile at pedri and walk outside.

"Your ice cream." Pam says.

You sit down, grabbing the spoon and mixing the very melted ice cream you had in front of you. You listen to the conversation, not wanting to involve yourself on it.

From your place you can see Pedri inside of the house, he was playing with the family dog. You knew the dog from Fernando's insta stories.

You can't help but smile at how delicate he is being with the dog.

"Oye," Daniel says to you. "I can give you a ride home. Fer mentioned that you didn't bring your car."

You scrunch your nose. "It's okay, I can order an Uber." You smile.

"Nonsense, I'll take you." He smiles, passing his arm around your shoulders.

You cringe at the action. Quickly grabbing the plates that are in front of you and him.

"Fer!" You say, getting up and making his arm leave your body. "Let me help you with the dishes."

"Oh si, we will help you." Pam says, grabbing some of the plates.

Daniel passed you Mike's plate while Pam had hers, Adriand and Fernandos plate. You walk with her to the kitchen.

"You really don't like him." She whispers.

"Qué?" You ask, trying to act as if you don't understand. "Wha- What are you talking about?"

"Dani, he's been all over you, and you've been so evasive with him."

You stayed quiet, making a face that makes her laugh.

"Let's just say that he's not my cup of tea." You say quietly. "He's just everything that I don't like combined in one dumb dude."

"He really doesn't know when to shut up." She sighs.

You just nodded, not really wanting to talk about it. Daniel was a little bit over himself and was the typical macho guy who thought that he's all that.

You stayed in the kitchen while the boys were outside. They were standing up, so maybe it meant that I was time for the gathering to end.

"Hey, give me your number." Pam says, taking her phone out of her pocket. "That way we can hang out."

You nod, happy and excited that you made a friend. You two share numbers and Instas.

"Party's over." Fer says, entering with the boys to the house.

You say goodbye to Adrian and Mike, giving a small hug to Pam and wave at Fer that was busy loading the dishwasher.

You notice that Daniel was in the backyard talking on the phone. You walk your way to the door to be able to get out before he gets off the phone.

You close the house front door and take your phone to order an Uber. Sadly for you, you were facing the consequences of your own actions.

You were too lazy to change your phone before getting ready, telling yourself that the charge that was left was enough for the day.

Well, it wasn't.

"Shit." You curse, trying not to be loud.

"Tas' bien?"

You lift your head and turn back to the house, finding Pedri looking at you.

"Si, I just got no battery left, and I can't order my Uber." You say, smiling to hide your embarrassment.

"I can take you home." He smiles. "I'm going out, and I don't mind dropping you off."

"I don't want to be a bother." You say, feeling a little shy. "I'll just find a cab."

"Qué va! I'll take you." He says, walking close to you. "Vamos, I left the car outside."

He places his hand on your back, pushing you very lightly for you to walk. You feel this small goosebump.

He not only opens the door of his house to you but also the door of his car. You know that's not something that needs to wow you, but it does.

"Where to, señorita?" He asks happily.

You giggle at his enthusiasm. "Do you by any chance know the Calid Apartments?"

"Si, it's close to camp nou."

You nod. "Yes, the precious Camp nou."

"Do you like football?" He asks.

You shake your head no. "I'm bad at every sport known to man." You laugh, making him laugh. "That's why I picked cooking as my skill."

"You sure are good at that one." He says. "I'm not letting you bit out of the fact that you offered me more of that lemon cake."

He stopped at a red light, head turned to you. The way he was smiling at you and the way the red light hit the high spots of his face.

You were kind of thankful that the red light was hiding your blushed face.

"I'll make you as much lemon cake as you want." You whisper.

"Promise?" He whispers back, smiling at you.

"Yes." You giggle.

The car behind you honk as soon as the light turns green. Making Pedri's eyes move from you to the street.

"Do you want to play some music?" He asks, trying to act normal, he unlock his phone and passes it to you.

You grab the phone, opening spotify and pressing play to the song that was already playing.

The rest of the drive was silent. Not an uncomfortable one, you feel relaxed in some type of way.

You got a text from Fernando, he was asking you where you were. You block your phone, you'll deal with that later.

"We are here." Pedri says, parking in front of the building.

"Gracias, Pedri." You smile at him. "You saved me. Drive safe."

You close the door of his car, waving at him. You only get to walk a few steps before you hear Pedri calling your name.

You turn back to the car, his window is now down. He has that smile that is growing on you.

"Si?"

"Do you want to see a football game?"

You scrunch your nose. "Well, like i said, I don't know anything about football. Why?"

He chuckles, "I have a game this weekend, it's at 2 pm." He explains. "I know that's in four days, but I was wondering if you would like to come?"

You nod quite quickly. "I might not get anything, but I would like to." You smile.

"Talking about that, I can explain some basics to you."

You nod happily. "Give me your phone." You ask, getting your hand inside his car. You pick his phone, saving your number on his contacts. "You have my number. Text me whenever you are free."

He winks at you, saying a quick goodbye. You turn right before entering the building, waving at him.

☁️☁️☁️

"Hola!" You say, opening the door for Pedri.

"Hola, guapa." He smiles.

You step aside so he can get inside. He has a bag on his hands.

"What's that?" You ask, curious about it.

He hands you the bag. "For you." He smiles.

You grab it, also grabbing his wrist and walking with him to your couch. You sit and open the bag.

It was a simple bag, no indication of what was inside whatsoever. That is why when you open it, you are taken by surprise. It was a barca jersey.

"Una camisa!" You say happy. You take the jersey out and check it. (A jersey!)

"This is the black one." He explains, "we have a green one, the blaugrana one and this one."

You check the back to see which player he picked. "It's empty." You say.

He nods. "I'll let you decide which player you want."

You nod. "Cristino!" You smile.

He burst out laughing at your words. When you mentioned that you didn't know anything about football, he thought that maybe you meant the bases of the game, not that you didn't even knew the players or teams.

"I mean, he was in Real Madrid." He explains.

"Oh," you say, blushing at how dumb you must look. "Then who's on your team?"

"We got Gavi, Ferran, Cubarsi." He began naming the players. "We had Messi."

"I know that one." You smile. "But in my mind, he was a psg player."

"He was, before Miami."

You nod. "Do you want something to drink?" You ask him. "The lemon cake is in the oven." You tease.

"Fuck, can I be honest with you?"

"Siempre." You giggle.

"I trained extra hard just because I knew you would bake something."

"I promise it'll be worth it."

You notice that he has a piece of grass on his hair, you think about it for a few seconds. You decide to move your hand to the side of his head, taking the grass off of him.

"I can tell you trained hard." You joke with him, showing him the small trace of grass on your hand.

Your hand goes back to that section of hair, combing it with your fingers to make sure there is nothing left.

Pedri's eyes are running along your features, the way the natural light makes you look like a work of art.

Maybe it's because it's been a long time since he ever felt this attracted to someone. Maybe it's because you are so new to him, and that makes him want to have you around till he knows you.

Or maybe, just maybe it's because you are not like those other girls in his past. You don't care that he plays in one of the biggest teams of Europe.

You don't care that he just invited you to one big game, you don't even know who is on the team or what position he plays in.

You don't care about his money or take a picture with him to get followers and get people talking about you.

"Done." You smile. "Now, where do we start?"

Pedri clears his throat. "Okay, I know that Real Sociedad and Girona match is being replayed in about fifteen minutes, so I think that we can watch it and I'll explain everything to you."

You nod, letting Pedri get on his zone. He was happy that he got to share something he loved like football.

Pedri takes his time with you, explaining every little detail. There was an offside? He will explain to you why that happens and how to not get offsided.

Was there a yellow? Okay, now you know why you get a yellow. What about two yellow? No problem, he has an explanation.

Someone got a red? Well, now you can tell what kind of red card that is. If it was for too many yellows, if it was for a foul, for violence or any other kind of red.

You know now that Pedri is a midfielder, he explains what he does and why his position was important in the game.

"Pacheco is a defender." He explains, pointing to the player. That's why he seems more aggressive."

"Got it." You nod.

During the game, Zubimendi got tackled by Martinez feet. You frown, knowing now that it was a very evident yellow.

"Wait, why is the guy that gives the cards not giving him a yellow? That was a clear foul." You argue.

Pedri can't help the laugh. "Referee, guapa." He says. "And sometimes you'll notice that referees don't give cards or mark a clear thing. That's because they are some cabrones."

"Okay, so the match is almost done, 90 minutes completed. The referee is now supposed to give extra time that will do to make up for lost time."

"Two minutes?" You ask. "What can you do with two minutes?" You frown.

You not also learned that two minutes was a valuable time in football, but also you learned that you spoke way too soon.

"That is what you can do with two minutes." He says after one player scored. "He can even get another one."

You get up, walking to the kitchen to cut the now cold cake. You place a big slice on a plate. You grab a fork and walk back to the couch.

You handed the cake to him, who didn't even last more than five seconds before taking it into his own hands.

"This is amazing." He says, closing his eyes.

"Glad you like it." You smile. "I'll put the rest in a topper and you can take it home."

"Eres la mejor." He says with a mouth full. (You are the best)

You stayed quiet, watching him enjoy his slice of cake. You feel happy that he was so vocal about liking your food.

You let him talk a little bit more about football. You don't understand, but watching him talk and being so open about it makes him so attractive.

"I'll invite my cousin and his girlfriend." He explains. "Adrian mentioned that you two hit off very well."

"Si, she's really nice."

"Vale, then I think my work here is done." He chuckles. "I'll send you the pass information the morning of the game."

You nod, walking back to the kitchen to save the rest of that cake for him.

"Save a piece for Fer." You tell him.

"I can try." He says, shrugging. "But I might not be that successful."

☁️☁️☁️

"You are alive!" Fer says, exaggerating his tone.

"Never stopped." You laugh.

"Pero joder, you stopped answering my texts." He argues. "You only answer Pam's texts." He rolls his eyes.

"Don't be jealous, you are my favorite loser." You say, hugging him. "I'm sorry I didn't answer, it's just that I was busy." You lie.

"Aja. Sure." He smiles. "Also, Daniel asked me for your number the night of the party and I gave it to him."

You nod, faking a smile. "I know, he texted me." You say.

As much as you want to say that his friend is weird and that you didn't really hit it off with him, you don't.

"Subete! Let's go to camp nou." He does a little dance. "Are you excited?"

You nod, "Very much, I even got a kit." You say, pointing to your jersey.

"You finally caught onto a sport." Fer teases, knowing that you are not good at any sport.

You scuff, hitting his arm very lightly. You roll your eyes, knowing that he is right in mocking you.

You let him tell you about this movie he saw last night. He was so happy with the plot while you pay no attention to him.

Your whole focus was on Pedri's texts, he was asking if you if you were ready for the match and if you had your new jersey on.

You smile at the picture he sent you, it was him ready for warm up. You feel comfortable with him and you feel happy that he feels comfortable enough to be natural with you.

You send him a picture of the road. Updating him on where you are and that you have the jersey he gifted you.

You can't lie, a few days ago you were all < I don't need a new friend / boyfriend. I'm fine alone." But now that Pedri made his way into your life, you are enjoying it.

"Are you even listening to me?" Fer asks.

You nod. "Yes, you burned the banana bread your mother asked you to bake." You say, blocking your screen.

"Who are you even talking to?"

You feel your heart jump from the question.

You aren't doing anything wrong, but you are also sure he won't be happy to know his friend is talking to his little brother.

"Daniel." You say, not thinking enough. You mentally hit yourself because that will create a problem.

"Okay!" Fer says, smiling. "My work as Cupid is amazing, I see."

You stayed quiet, hearing him talk about other topics. You check your phone from time to time to answer Pedri's texts.

When you two arrive at the stadium, you feel kind of nervous. You never been to a game or never really been attracted to any sport so this feeling was new for you.

But you weren't just attracted to the sport, you feel attracted to the boy playing that sport.

"Adrian is inside with Pam." Fer says.

You feel happy, the stadium was really big. You remember that Pedri told you that the Camp Nou was even bigger and that it was better.

Fer and you walk over to the stand, you see that people are starting to take their seats. You follow fer to the correct seats.

"Y/n!" Pam says, getting up to greet you. "Love your jersey."

"Thank you, love yours!" You say, hugging her. "Hola Adrian." You say to the boy next to her.

You sit between Pam and Fernando. He wanted for you to sit there so he could explain som parts of the game to you.

You spend the remaining time until the match starts talking with fer and Pam. Adrian and her had an idea of going to Tenerife to have a relaxing weekend.

Fer was happy because that means visiting his family and being able to have a nice weekend with his friends from Tenerife.

"We can use one of Pedri's days off." Fer suggests. "I know he has some next month, and I think it's on the week that he will play againt Las Palmas."

"That's amazing!" Pam says. "You are coming, right?"

You shrugged. "Can I confirm later?" You ask.

"Venga, you have to come!" Adrian says.

"She will, I'll make sure of it."

The conversation got interrupted by the screaming of the people. You all turn attention to the field where the players were coming.

You see the players doing the intro and everything. To you it was amazing, you never seen that before, and you are sure you look like another young boy in the stadium seeing their favorite players for the first time.

They got in position, ready to play. Pedri turns to the bleachers, he's trying to spot his brother or cousin.

When he does, he notices you next to Fer. His smile grows. He turns back to the field, he needs to have his mind on the ball and not on the bleachers.

You try your best to enjoy the game, doing your best to remember what Pedri told you. When one of the players from the other team pushes the number 9, you quickly frown.

"But that's a clear foul." You say, noticing how the referee gives zero fucks about the in clear pain player. "Why is he not giving him a yellow?"

Fer turns to you. "Because he's an asshole." Fer says.

You turn back to the field. The 9 got up and is talking to the referee. You try to understand why it is so complicated to give a card when it's so obviously deserved.

"Espera," Fer says, turning back to you. "Did you just say the word foul and yellow card?" He asks surprised.

"I'm not that dumb." You laugh.

The first half was good. You stressed about the fact that the players of the other team were on and on over the barca players.

"I hate this game." You say t everyone. You have a pout on your face. "Why is the referee that way?"

"That's what we all ask each other week after week." Adrian says.

"Wait for them to foul Pedri." Fer says on a bitter tone. "They love to ignore how other players attack him."

You just frown. Why would anyone attack that gorgeous man?

You sake that thought out of your head. "That's fucked up." You say to Fer.

Thankfully to you, the rest wasn't that long. You hear the screams and people chanting different players' names.

The second time was somehow worse than the first. Fer wasn't lying when he explained to you that the referees hated barca.

Number 7 makes a wrong move and tackles the 11 of the other team. You can see how the yellow card shines in his direction.

But thanks to Pedri, number 3 and number 2. The game got more interesting. Pedri assist number 9 and he scores a goal.

"Only the extra time left." Adrian says. "And we are still leaders on La Liga."

"Is that good?" You ask Fer.

"That's amazing!" He smiles. "Remember, you always want for us to be leaders."

After the extra minutes the game was over. That meant three more points for barca and a clearly free way to the top.

Pedri got named motm, meaning he was leaving with a trophy. He explained that motm meant that he was the best player among the two teams.

The four of you walk back to the parking lot after waiting a while for the people to start leaving.

"Oye, we will head home for pizza and a drink." Fer says, to you. "And you are coming too."

You nod, thanking him for inviting you to go with them.

"Also I texted Daniel, he will be there in an hour. It's enough time for us to get there."

You got serious. It's not like you hated the guy, but if you had to save an ice cream cone from the sun or save him... yeah the ice cream.

Fer explained to you that Pedri has his car and he will get home after showering and talking to some players.

You check your phone when it vibrates. You had two texts, one from Pedri asking you how the match was from your pov.

And the second one was from Daniel, telling you that he was excited to see you at Fer's and that maybe you can plan an outing while you are there.

You obviously answer the first text, telling Pedri your thoughts. You even tell him that you were enow mad at that specific referee and will find him for not giving a yellow when he got tackled.

You can't help but feel bad at Daniel's text. You hate to ignore people, you answer with a thumbs up emoji.

You made your way to Fer's house. Picking the pizza and some beverages on the way. You text Pedri, asking him if he was planning on drinking something.

He answered that he won't and that he might just stick to some water because he has a recovery training tomorrow in the evening.

"Can you help Pam with the pizza while Adrian and I make the dri-" Fer was saying, but the doorbell interrupted him. "Maybe please open the door?"

You nod, smiling at him and handing the pizza boxes to Pam. You walk to the door and open it.

"Hola, mi guapa." Daniel says, smiling at you. "You look amazing on that."

"Hola." You say, very dry tone.

You turn, leaving him at the door and walking back inside.

Pam was about to talk but she noticed the boy behind you. "Oh, Hi." She says, waving at him.

Daniel was too busy with his phone to answer to her. "Where Fer?" He asks you.

You share a look with Pam, rolling your eyes you point to the patio. You then help with placing the pizzas on plates for the boys and for you.

You walk to the patio with a few plates while you see Fernando and Adrian trying to imitate a tutorial on tik tok.

"Hard much?" You ask, laughing at them. "Let's just drink it 70/30 and call it a night." You suggest.

They agree and bring the drinks to the table. You talk for a while about the match, updating Daniel on how the match went.

You get a text from Pedri saying that he was about to get home. You wanted to talk for a while with him before he got taken by Adrian and Fer.

"I'll go to the bathroom." You say, getting up. "Anyone needs more pizza? I can grab some when I'm back." You ask, trying to make it sound normal.

As if it was you saying you are going to the area 51 or something. You are just going to the bathroom.

They all answer yes to your question. You say you'll bring the box to let them grab a slice by themselves.

You walk to the bathroom just in time to see Pedri walking inside the house.

"Hola." He smiles, you can tell he is tired because of his eyes. "Having a good time?"

You nod, giving him a quick hug hello. "You look tired." You say. "I mean, obviously you are, you just played a lot. Sorry, that sounded really dumb, but also maybe you have a lot of energy because sometimes exercise gives you energy." You ramble.

He chuckles, finding cute how you are trying to remedy your words. "Buaf, a little tired, but I'll maybe go outside. I heard that there's pizz-"

"Y/n." Daniel calls. "There you are, we are waiting on that pizza." He says.

You turn to him, frown from how you were just absent for barely three minutes now. "Oh, it's on the counter in the kitchen." You say.

"Hey, man." He says to Pedri. "I know where it is, but you mentioned you were bringing out, and you didn't, so I thought maybe something happened to her."

"It's been four minutes." You say, checking your watch. "Less, I think."

You can feel the awkward silence from the three of you. Pedri, who's just there, not understanding. Daniel, who is trying to get you to come back with him and you who want him to get away so you can go back to Pedri.

"Vale, you can bring the pizza to them then." You smile. "I haven't even been to the bathroom, I was saying hi to Pedri." You explain.

Why are you explaining yourself? Just tell him to go get the pizza!

"Daniel, llevales la pizza tú." Pedri says, noticing the tone in his brother's friend. (Take the pizza yourself)

Daniel lifts his hands, nodding and going back to the kitchen.

You turn to Pedri, smiling at him. You try to think on what to say after that awkward moment, but you kind of blocked.

"Ya viste mi trofeo?" He asks, lifting his motm trophy. "Ta' guapo, eh!" He says. (Have you seen my trophy? It's cool)

You extend your hands, asking for the trophy. You checked it, and it was cool. Like, really really cool.

"Do you have more of this?" You ask, still looking at the trophy.

"I think I have five." He answers, thinking about it. "I have one that has stars on it." You open your mouth in sorprise, looking at him. "I know, so cool." He smiles.

You smile back at him. You hand him the award back. "I'll let you rest." You say. "If you want to still go out, we have pizza and some drinks." You repeat what you say to him over text.

He nods while blinking. You really like it when he does that. "Well if I don't, text me when you are ready to leave, I can drop you off."

"No seas bobo, you are tired. Plus, your brother will drive me."

"The same one who's probably doing shots by now?" He asks, lifting an eyebrow. "Yeah, he's not driving you home. You need to get home safe."

You want to argue back that he really needs the rest but Fernando magically decides to scream.

"Chug, chug, chug. My turn, my turn!"

You shut your mouth quicker than ever. "Maybe I'll do text you." You say, smiling at him. "Go get some rest, you deserve it."

You say a quick goodbye to him, walking back to the garden. Finding Adrian and Fer competing over who can drink their drink faster.

"Y/n, want a shot?" Daniel asks you.

"I think I'm fine with my drink, thanks." You say, taking your seat. "What are these idiots doing?" You ask Pam.

"Adrian told Fernando he was quicker than him at drinking."

You laugh, watching them prepare different drinks and competing over who was quicker or even who got the best drink in taste.

The night was fun, you were thankful that you had all Sunday to rest.

"So, y/n." Daniel says, taking Pam's seat as she went to the bathroom. "What were you and Pedri talking about?"

You lift an eyebrow. "Does it matter?" You ask.

"I mean, I feel like I need an explanation. You say you were going to the bathroom but you are talking to him. Leaving us without pizza."

"The pizza was in the kitchen, dude." You say, getting irritated. "Why do you care if I took less than five minutes in the bathroom or if I was talking to Fernando's brother?"

"Because you can speak to me instead." He says, passing his arm around you. "I told you we can plan an outing, I might cancel that if you keep behaving like a handover." He laughs.

You take his arm away from you. "Don't worry, I'll cancel it for you. Wasn't going to go anywhere with you, anyway." You say, getting up from your seat and grabbing your phone.

You text Pedri to see if he was awake.

He didn't take much to responde that he was, telling you that he would be down in a moment. He sends you a picture of him playing a game.

You thank him and tell him to take all the time he wants. You are not in a hurry.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Adrian asks you. "Want a drink?" He smiles, lifting his half cocktail at you.

"No, thank you." You smile back. "I just got cold." You half lie, you were cold, but that was not the reason.

"Oh, I can fix that." He smiles, walking to one of the doors by the entrance. He grabs a hoodie from the closet where Pedri and Fer keep a winter jacket and a hoodie just in case.

He walked back to you, handing you a taupe Balenciaga hoodie. You thank him, putting it on.

"So, drink?" He asks again.

You laugh. "I'm good, believe me."

He dissappear back into the garden. You stayed there, enjoying the calm and warmth that the hoodie brought you.

You were dissociating for a moment before you felt a little tap on your head. You go back to reality, finding Pedri in front of you.

"Cute hoodie." He says.

"It's Adrian's." You say. "I was cold, maybe because I'm tired." You smile.

"Let's get you home." He extends his arm to you, offering his hand for you to take and get up.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" You ask him. "I can take a cab if you want to go back to your video game."

He shakes his head no. "I can't let you take the risk of going alone to your house in a cab." He says. "Plus, it was time for me to get off of it."

You nod, walking with him to the garage. He opens the door of his Porsche. You find that very cute.

"Want to do the honors?" He asks once he's inside the car, handing you his phone with spotify open.

You played some Quevedo, you love his music so you can't resist to pick it for the drive.

The drive was silent, you feel tired and he feels tired too, but won't let you take a cab and risk you out there. He prefers to take that little bit of strength he has left and make sure you get home safe.

"Te divertiste?" He asks, stopping at a red light. (Did you have fun?)

"I did, thank you for inviting me." You smile. "Even tho I'm mad that the fact that now I have an enemy on the referee." You say with a mischievous tone.

He can't help the laugh he let out. He was happy that you had a good time, and even better that they won the match.

When he stopped at the entrance of your building, he lowered the music. "Thank you for coming, it was good to have you there." He says, looking at you.

You try to answer, but the big yawn that you let out was the only thing your body was letting out.

He chuckles. "Eso pa mi es un de nada." He jokes. "Go to sleep, guapa." (That for me is a you're welcome)

You nod, leaning to give him a hug and a cheek kiss. You got down of the car, when you are about to enter the building you turn and give him a goodbye wave.

☁️☁️☁️

"You want me to bake you a banana bread?" You ask Pedri.

You were in your apartment watching some movie that he got recommended. You tried your best not to fall asleep.

You have been texting, phone calling, and spending time with each other almost every day since the day after the game.

You thought that it might be a short thing and that maybe the idea of the two of you was wrong.

But after you hit the four months mark, you definitely knew that his feelings were real and that he was as interested in you as you are of him.

You enjoy his presence in your life. It's was different and very nice to have him around. He also enjoys your presence. To him, it was fresh to have someone new and who gave him a new perspective of things.

"Buaf, that sounds amazing." He says. "Don't forget that we have that dinner at Adrian's." He says combing your hair.

"Do we have to?" You ask, getting comfortable on his chest. "I mean, you do because he is your cousin. But do I have to?"

"You don't, but I want you there." He says, kissing your hair. "Also Adrian wants you there."

"Aww, pepi." You say in a teasing tone of voice. "You want me there?" You smile.

He blushes a little. "Maybe you are right, you don't have to go." He jokes.

You lift your head, narrowing your eyes and looking at him. He can't help but smile, even though he is pretending to watch the movie.

"Grosero." You say, getting back to your position. (Rude)

He laughs, turning back to you and kissing your shoulder. "Toy' bromeando." He smiles. "I do want you there." He lifts his neck a little to kiss the corner of your lips.

"Pero besame bien," you pout, making his smile grow bigger. You pucked your lips out for him, he quickly imitates the action and kisses you. "So much better." You smile. (Kiss me properly)

He can't help but feel happy, the time you two have spent together was a very happy time for him.

He moves his hands to the back of your head, making you get closer for him to kiss you one more time.

You feel your phone vibrate next to you, making him separate a little to look at it. "That's probably your brother asking me about the pie he wants to take to dinner tonight." You say.

He shrugged and went back to kissing you, ignoring the phone that was vibrating next to you.

"Pero si me vas a hacer ese pan de platano?" Pedri asks as he separates.

You laugh, "I'll do it. Let's just finish the movie." You say, focusing on the movie.

But you can't quite concentrate on the movie when your phone is buzzing at its maximum. You grab it and move it under of a pillow, that way, the vibration won't bother you.

After a few minutes, the phone passed from vibrating from texts to vibrate from a call. Pedri grabs it, passing it to you.

"Hello?" You ask, the number that was dialing you was an unknown one.

"Te he estado enviando unos veinte mensajes, what are you even doing that's so important for you to not take five seconds to answer my texts?" (I've been texting you like twenty times)

You take your phone out of your ear, looking at the number. "Daniel?" You ask lifting yourself from your position on Pedri's chest. You are confused about what was going on. "Is everything okay? Did something happen?"

"I can ask you the same. Did you even see my texts?" He asks in a mad tone.

"No, I'm busy." You say. "Why is that important that can't wait? Are you okay?" You ask, thinking that maybe he was in trouble.

Pedri was looking at you confused. "What's going on?" He whispers.

You shake your head, not understanding anything. You can hear Daniel chuckling and that makes you even more confused than before.

"Check the texts and call me back." He says before hanging up the call.

You are still lost at what even happened, Pedri looks as confused as you are. You shrugged and opened your texts.

First it was a picture of him with two tickets on his hands. It was for this new movie that was having a premier today.

Then it was him asking what your favorite flowers are. He was at a flower shop, and he sent you a picture of different flowers.

And last was him asking if you like chocolate and what kind of chocolate you want. He sent you a picture of one random one next to the tickets and the flowers.

"I think he likes you." Pedri jokes, reading the texts. "Payaso." He scuffs.

"You think?" You ask, lifting an eyebrow. "Gosh, I hate to be all bitchy, like can he get the hint already?"

Pedri can't help the laugh. "He's obviously not getting the hint, preciosa." He says. "Why don't you just tell him straightforwardly that you are not interested?"

You nod. "Like now?" You pout.

"Ah vale, si quieres esperate de acá a que el payaso ese te proponga matrimonio o algo." (Oh okay, if you want, you can wait till that asshole proposes or something)

"Vale, I'm doing it." You say, smiling a little at his jealousy. "You look good when you are jealous." You tease, grabbing his cheeks and giving him a peck.

You can't lie, you have a text on your notes about what you wanted to say. You just edited some things and added other things.

You send the text and place your phone on Not Disturb mode. You really don't care to read any excuse or text he will send. You just want peace.

"Done." You say, blocking your phone. "Now help me pick something for the dinner tonight." You say, grabbing his hand and getting up from bed.

"I'm literally wearing the same thing." He says, following you to your closet.

"Good thing that you are a boy, then." You laugh. "I don't know what to wear."

He starts inspecting your clothes, finding a T-shirt that's exactly like the one he is wearing. "Mira, we can match!" He says, smiling like crazy.

"Let's match, baby." You hug him.

He kisses your cheek, "By the way, Ferran and Eric want to go to the movies. It's after dinner, and I want you to come with me so you can meet them."

"What if your friends don't like me?" You ask, worried about the possibility.

"Buaf, tas loca." He chuckles, grabbing your cheeks. "Ferran te va a amar, incluso no te asustes si te hace una broma el hijoputa." (You are crazy, Ferran is going to love you, don't get scared if he tries to prank you)

You nod, smiling. "Okay, and Eric?"

"Eric, he loves everyone." He smiles, giving you a kiss. "No te preocupes, you are so special. How could anyone hate you?"

He can't help but crashing his lips with yours. His hands are going from your cheeks to behind your neck.

"Stop, I have to get ready." You say, felling his hands go down on your back, "and you have to get that thing Adrian asked you."

He pecks your lips. "Fine, but we're not done."

You send him back to the room, grabbing the clothes and picking some jeans and sneakers. You took a quick shower, getting ready inside the bathroom.

You add some very light makeup, finishing quickly. You go back to the room, getting back in bed with Pedri, who was finishing the movie.

He snuggles into your side, giving you a kiss to the cheek. "Tell me when you are ready." He says.

"What about what you need to get?" You ask, turning the volume down.

"Fer is getting it."

You continue watching the movie, there was only twenty minutes left on the movie when you heard knocks on your door.

You frown, you are not expecting anybody, so you don't really pay attention to it. Sadly for you, the knocks come back two minutes back.

"I'll be right back." You say, getting up from bed.

You walk to the door, thinking that maybe some package ended in the hands of one of your neighbors.

To your surprise, it wasn't a neighbor with a package. It was Daniel, carrying the bouquete of flowers and the chocolates.

He doesn't even wait for you to say anything, he storms into your apartment. He leaves the things on the coffee table.

"Si, Daniel. Get inside." You sarcastically say. "What do you need?"

"You didn't answer your texts." He says, ignoring your questions. "I brought your flowers, peonies, the florist says girls love peonies."

"Daniel-"

"And I got you some chocolate, this brand is that famous one from tik tok. The Dubai one." He keeps going.

"Danie-"

"And don't forget about dinner, I'm taking you to dinne-"

"Para!" You say loudly. "Didn't you read my text?" You ask, exasperated. He nods. "Okay, you did. Then what are you doing here?"

"I know you were just messing around." He smiles. "And that's why I wanted to get you some goodi-"

"How did you get my address?" You ask, thinking about it. "I never gave it to you."

"Oh, Fer did." He says, normally. "But don't get mad, he doesn't know about your dumb text." He laughs.

You blink a few times. Not understanding if what was happening was real or if it was a dream, a very bad one.

"Daniel, I really hate to say this." You begin. "But like I said over text, I'm not interested, and honestly, it's kind of creepy that you are doing things like this."

He laughs, but not in a < you're funny > way, in a very creepy way. "I mean, look at me. You can give me a second chance. In fact you will!"

It's your turn to laugh. You can't even believe he would have the audacity to say that. "Alright, it's time for you to go." You say, turning to your door.

He grabs your arm, bringing you closer. "Don't act all pure and shit."

You don't think twice and lift your knee, you hit his crotch. "What is wrong with you?" You say, hitting his face with your hand as he fell on his knees from the pain. "Get the fuck out of here."

Pedri hears the commotion and walks to where you are, he sees Daniel on the floor and you with an angry face.

"Qué mierda?"

"Este puto payaso que trató de agarrarme por la muñeca, se piensa que le daré una oportunidad." (This fucking asshole who tried to grab me and thinks I'm forced to give his ass a chance)

Daniel who is still on the floor, looks at Pedri with a confused look. Pedri pulls you towards him, covering your body with his own.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" He asks, mad that Pedri was there.

"Venga, pedazo de imbecil." Pedri laughs. "I can ask the same thing. Get up and get the fuck out." He orders.

Daniel quickly understands the situation. "So you are fucking Fer's brother?" He chuckles. "Okay, miss prude."

Pedri takes that as a sign, grabbing the boy by the collar of his jacket, and while he still om his knees, he's dragging him out of your apartment.

Pedri might look small, but he has some force into himself. Once he gets Daniel out in the corridor. He walks back inside, grabbing the flowers and the chocolates.

He throws it at him, slaming the door and closing it. He takes a few deep breaths before turning to where you are.

"You okay?" He asks, walking over to you. "Did he hurt you?"

You shake your head. "No, I'm just a little shaken up. But I'm okay."

He wraps his arms around you, giving you a hug and a kiss to your hair. "That chocolate actually looked amazing." He jokes.

You can't help but laugh and roll your eyes. "Let's just wait for him to go, and then we can leave to Adrian's."

He nods, holding you while you calmed down. You asked him some things, trying for him to calm himself down too.

He doesn't want to admit it but he's also very mad. You let him go, walking back to your room to get a jacket.

"I'll see you there, please drive safely." He says, pecking your lips.

"We are literally going to the same place. "Keep your hands to yourself." You joke, pushing him away.

He rolls his eyes at you. "You know you love when I do that." He smirks.

"Kinda."

The whole drive to his cousins house was bored. You try to play some music to feel less lonely on the car.

When you arrive the first person you see is Pam. She greets you, grabbing your arm and waking inside.

"I love your shirt." She says, handing you a glass.

You click the glasses together, laughing at how silly that looked, mostly because it was soda and not an alcoholic beverage.

When Fer arrived, it was followed by Pedri. Fer was laughing at how his brother got him to bring what he needed to.

"Pedri!" Pam calls him. "Come here."

He walks over to where you two are, Pam takes a look at you, then back at pedri, then back at you and then back at pedri again.

"You are matching!" She smiles, pointing at your t-shirts. "That's so cool."

You smile at that. Even if it was planned, it felt so cute. "Buaf, we are." He smiles, finger poking your side.

"Adrian, let's match next time." Pam says, walking to her boyfriend.

You grab Pedri's cheek, squishing it. "Totally random." You laugh.

You all sat down at the table, talking about different things. The biggest topic was the famous trip to Tenerife Pedri and Adrian are planning.

"You are coming, right?" Adrian asks.

You nod, at first, you didn't want to go, but once Pedri convinced you. He asked you to come to the game that was taking place a few days before the trip.

You all talk about the trip, what you will do when you get there, what activities the boys have in mind and other things.

When it was time to leave, you told everybody that you needed to get home and do something. Saying that you might call a cab or use the bus.

Pedri offered to take you since he was going with his teammates somewhere. Nobody said anything, they all just nodded and waved a goodbye at you.

"I've been thinking." He says.

"That's new." You tease him.

"Buaf, grosera. You are meeting my parents." He squish your hand.

"Maybe when we get to tenerife, we can tell your parents that we are together."

He grabs your hand, giving it a kiss. "If you feel ready, then I do." He smile. "By the way, Ferran might or may not ask you for a cake, he loves cakes."

"Pero venga, por qué no me has dicho que estabas con alguien?" Fer asks Pedri, offended that he found out that he was with someone because of a magazine and not because he told him. (Why didn't you tell me that you are with someone?)

Pedri rolls his eyes, he knows that if he confesses that the mysterious girl is, in fact, Fer's friend. He would be mad and won't understand.

"I was going to." Pedri says, watching his phone like nothing happened. "I was just waiting."

"When?" Fer asks, taking the phone out of his hand. "You never hide things out, what is going on?"

"Joder, can't I have something only to myself?"

Fer throws the phone back at him, grabbing his keys and going out.

Pedri and Fer are not ones to keep secrets to each other, that's why Fer was mas about Pedri keeping this as a secret.

His friends invited him to play some padel, he needed that after the fight with his brother.

Daniel was there, so it was good because they always had a chat to update each other on their life.

But this time was different, Daniel didn't wanted to talk to Fer. He barely even acknowledged him, thing that left Fer very confused.

The whole game he was trying to think what was going on for him to be ignored by his friend.

"Daniel, tio, what's going on?" He asks, patting his friends back. "You've been so distant."

"Honestly, I like it that way." He scruff. "Last time we saw each other you linked me with a fucking girl whos fucking your brother for money."

Fer doesn't have an answer for that, he doesn't even understand why Daniel is saying that.

"Qué mierda? Why are you saying that?"

"Because is true, yesterday I got her flowers, some chocolate and even invited her to dinner but when I went to pick her up she was with your brother."

"Yesterday?" He asks, confused. "I saw them yesterday, that can't be right."

"Don't believe me?" He laughs. "Were they wearing matching clothes?" He asks

Fer doesn't answer, he grabs his stuff. He drives home, hoping that his brother is still there. He needed to ask if what Daniel said was true.

He finds Pedri watching Breaking Bad while petting nilo. Was he mad? At him, no. But he was mad at you.

"Are you and Y/n, hooking up?"

"Qué?" He asks, pretending to not understand. "Are you crazy?"

"Tell me the truth, Pedro." He warns him, using his name and not the nickname. "Because Daniel just told me that he went to deliver her flowers and shit and found you there with her."

Pedri shrugged, "Maybe one of the times where I picked her up."

"Turns out that it was yesterday. At first, I didn't believe it, but then he told me you guys were matching, just like you were yesterday."

Pedri sighs, he wants to honor his word when he promised you to keep it private from the group, but he can't deal with this.

"And if I am, what about it?" He asks, turning the tv off. "It's not like is any of your business."

"Pedro, are you out of your mind? You can be fucking girls and giving them money!" Fer shouts. "Don't be fucking stupid."

Pedri can't help but laugh at how stupid Fernando sounds. "I'm not paying anybody for sex. She's my girlfriend."

Fer doesn't know how to answer because Pedri doesn't do girlfriends. He's more of the type to be with someone for a few days and then goodbye.

"She what?"

"Qué es mi novia, idiota." (She's my girlfriend, asshole)

"You don't do girlfriends." Fer says. "Look, if this isn't true and you are actually payin-"

"Me cago en la puta, que no!" He shouts. "Now be fucking useful and take nilo out for a walk."

He starts walking upstairs, not before turning back to Fernando. His brother is speechless, nilo by his side waiting to be taken out after hearing the word "walk".

"And don't say shit, she wants to announce it on Tenerife. So, you are going to be quiet and act normal." He walks two steps, remembering he needs to say something else. "By the way, if you ever insinuate that I'm fucking paying her to have sex with me. I'll beat the shit out of you."

☁️☁️☁️

"Y/n, are you ready to see the game?" Rosy asks, fixing something in your hair as she sets the plate of food on the table. "Hope we win."

"Yes, I'm so excited. We are going to win." You smile.

"Pedri told me you were not a fan of football." Fernando his father says.

"I'm not really that good at sports, but your son helped me with learning about football."

You were eating at their house, Pedri invited you over so you could tell his parents about your relationship.

"She's a good student." He says, placing his hand on your thigh. "She nows now I think even more than me."

You smile at him, intertwining the hand that's he has on your thigh with yours. You think nobody's noticing, but his parents are doing it.

Rosy and Fernando are trying to keep their comments, wanting you two to confirm or deny what you are.

The eyes between you and him keep being not discreet at all, even Fer, who was there just because he lived there, noticed that.

You make a nice talk with both of them, they ask you about yourself and about how you met the boys.

They also explained to you how Pedri ended up in football and how he cried on his first night in Barcelona.

Something embarrassing because without it, it wouldn't be a proper introduction.

"Pedri, tell me something." Rosy speaks.

Pedri nods, serving himself with a few more croquettes. He can't get enough of them.

"I'm sorry to ask, I just can't wait." She says. "Can you please just tell us that you are waiting so we can cut the whole weird talk?" She asks

You choke on your food, trying to help Fer pass you some water. He wants to laugh at how Pedri is all red and shy.

"How do yo-" He tries but his voice fails him. "How do you know?"

Rosy and Fernando exchange looks, they want to laugh at how funny this was. Even Fer was enjoying this a little too much for his brother liking.

"Oh, you know." His father says, filling his glass with more wine. "Parents have that instinct."

"That and the fact that we all saw you kissing on the corridor at the hotel in Gran Canaria."

☁️☁️☁️

[woso-dreamzzz]

Travel Day IV

Keira Walsh x Kid!Reader

Summary: You get a bit confused with your family

"Do you only have a mummy?" One of the girls in your new class asks.

You frown as you think.

This new school is different. You wanted to go to the same school as Liefje but there weren't any spots available so you're at this one. It's closer to home as well which is easier for your mums.

"I have Mummy," You tell the girl as you reach for the blue crayon," And a Mum..." You think for a moment. "And kind of a Daddy."

The girl nods a few times as she sprays glitter glue all over her picture of a unicorn. "I have a mummy, a step-mummy and a daddy too."

"I don't have a step-mummy," You say decisively," Just Mummy, Mum and kind of Daddy."

Clearly the girl doesn't understand and you don't really feel like explaining it so you don't.

You just go about your day.

You even forget about the conversation entirely as Keira picks you up from school and takes you back to her house.

Dinner with Keira is easy like always just like bath time and bedtime where she reads you your special story about a little girl footballer being better than all of the boys on her team before tucking you.

She dresses you like usual the next day in your uniform and snaps an obligatory picture to send to Lucy once she's dropped you off.

You're both early like you normally are and mill around while you wait for the gates to open.

"Oh, Keira," Another one of the mummies says as she sidles up close and strikes up a conversation.

If Lucy were here, she'd let you run off with some of the other kids and play by the bike shed but Keira's always been a bit more cautious about you.

She likes you to stick to her side so you don't get up to mischief so that's where you stay, swinging your joint hands around as you kick a little rock.

"You put in so much effort getting her to places on time," The other mum continues though you've mostly tuned her out in favour of watching some of the older kids drive their new bikes straight into the shed. "It's such a shame that you don't get any help."

Keira frowns, holding your hand a little tighter. "What do you mean? I have help. Lucy-"

"I meant from her father," The woman cuts her off quickly," It's such a shame that he's never around."

Keira tugs on your hand a little bit until you're pressed up against her leg and she lets go of your hand to lightly run her fingers through your hair.

"She doesn't have a father," Keira says stiffly, drawing you as close as she possible can," It's just me and Lucy."

"Oh." The woman's mouth shuts with an audible click. "But I thought...Mia said that y/n talked about her daddy."

"She doesn't have a daddy," Keira says and you frown at that.

Ordinarily, you would argue about it but the way Keira's holding you makes you stay silent.

This is clearly an adult conversation.

It's short and snappy and Keira guides you away before kneeling down in front of you.

Her voice is soft as she speaks. "What's this about a daddy, huh? You know you don't have a daddy."

"I do," You insist," I do!"

"Peanut, baby, you don't. You have me and Mum. Remember? No daddy."

"Mum is my Daddy!"

"What?"

"We were learning about families," You say as Keira draws you close so you can rest your head against her," And the teacher said about how mummies are the ones that carry the babies. You carried me. I know because there's pictures. And daddies are the ones that look after the mummies what that happens. So Mum must be my Daddy because she looked after you."

"Y/n..."

"And Mum likes being Daddy! She says so!"

Keira closes her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath as she tries to keep a lid on her thoughts. "Families don't always need a daddy," She says softly," A family can be two mummies and a little girl."

"Are you sure? My teacher didn't say that."

"Well that's what our family is like and that's what Liefje's family's like. I don't think having two mummies makes it any less a family, alright? You don't need to have a daddy for our family to be right."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay, Mummy."

The gates open to let the kids into the playground but Keira keeps you close to her side for a few minutes longer, sucking up the affection and your hug until she finally sets you off.

Your words about Lucy being your daddy play on her mind as she drives to training. It's the thing that's in the forefront of her thoughts the moment she sees Lucy's face.

"Has our daughter told you that she thinks you're her daddy?"

It's not the best thing she's ever led with but Keira can't help herself.

"What?"

"Our daughter. She's under the impression that you are her father."

For a moment, Lucy looks floored - a shocked look on her face and eyes wide. But then, as Keira should have expected, Lucy grins.

"She thinks I'm her daddy?"

"Don't start."

Lucy's grin only widens. "A daddy? This is great!"

"I'm already regretting telling you."

"Do you think the dad will let me into their groupchat now?"

[sixty-silver-wishes]

ADHD and not autism here, but that story about the English teacher hit me like a truck. It also didn't surprise me at all, because when I was in high school, that was my experience with several English and humanities teachers. They'd bill themselves as accepting and "quirky," and go on huge spiels about how "everyone is welcome." And the second you're the wrong kind of quirky, they immediately make it known how much you'll never fit in.

anyway I have a personal experience with that but it's long and emotional so uh. under the cut if you don't mind

this isn't to detract from the fact that the post is specifically about autism ofc. but this is something I can really relate to and I think is a familiar experience for many nd people

Growing up, I was super into English and literature. (Still am- it was my degree and is a huge part of my current career!) As such, I DESPERATELY wanted these sorts of teachers to like me. They wanted "inspired, involved, enthusiastic students who always asked questions and thought outside the box?" Well, that was me, I thought! I had a place where I could finally feel welcome, an adult I could look up to!

Except that wasn't the case. I could tell these teachers didn't like me. I saw how they treated me vs. the other students. I saw how they were silly and joking with everyone else, and dismissive towards me. I thought, if I was witty enough, if I gave the right answers, if I asked the right questions, then they could clearly see that I was exactly what they said they wanted. And it was never enough; if anything, it only made things worse. And because I looked up to these people, because I was obsessed with their approval, I decided to switch tactics. I HAD to be normal now. So I became obsessed with being quiet, with not speaking up, with sitting still and not being too loud when I did speak. Except it was hard. I had these impulses I didn't know how to control, and I didn't know where they were coming from. I kept wanting to speak up and talk about whatever we were learning about, because I was interested in English, goddammit. It didn't come from a place of pretentiousness or intellectual superiority; it came from the fact that I was an excitable kid who really wanted to be a writer at the time. And because I had to keep talking, and because I wanted approval so badly, I ruthlessly policed every single thing I said. I graded and evaluated all my questions and answers, all my interjections I hoped were clever or would score me friends. I developed really bad anxiety; I liked those teachers, and I knew they would like me too if I just acted differently- except I didn't know how to do that.

Fast forward to college. I was taking Russian classes for a few years, because I was hyperfixated on Soviet classical music history at the time and I wanted to read some historical letters in the original language. Once, I was trying to translate some letters I found online, and I came across a word I couldn't find a single direct translation for. I wanted to ask my professor what it meant, but I remembered what high school had been like. I didn't want to be the pretentious, disruptive kid who asked annoying questions in class and irritated the teacher. So I sent her an email to ask about the translation, and the next day, she announced to the entire class that I had a great question. I was MORTIFIED. I wished she'd just email me instead; now, she was telling the whole class about how I was reading Dmitri Shostakovich's letters and asking how to translate 'blagopoluchen.' That's like, two nerd points right there. She explained what the word meant and talked about how impressed she was with me, and i wanted to die right there. Which is weird, because like... wasn't that what I wanted? Didn't I want my teachers to be proud of me for years? My high school desire to be quiet and fit in was so deeply ingrained, I was terrified of praise, maybe moreso than I was of irritating my teachers as I had been before. No matter what, I always stood out.

My experience clearly wasn't as bad as the kid's in the above story. Nor is it probably as bad as many people's in the notes. I ended up having a great time in Russian class, and in college in general. But it took a while before I was able to feel that way. I don't think I can call myself traumatized, per se, but the way those high school teachers treated me while waxing about how "it's great to be different" had repercussions. I'm still dealing with the anxiety I developed trying to please them; that's why I told that anecdote about Russian class. What should have been a good experience for me was a terrifying one.

So, I guess my point is this. For all those teachers and authority figures who paint themselves as trustworthy, progressive, accepting people, we will believe you. People who need acceptance, who are desperate for validation, will believe you. We may let our guards down and maybe act a bit weird- and sometimes that's weird in a different way than you might want. And why shouldn't we let our guards down? Why shouldn't we view you as a sanctuary for our weirdness? That's what you said we could do.

By touting yourself as a safe space, you have a lot of power over the mental well-being of people like us. You have the opportunity to be the refuge you say you are, or you could cause lasting damage. So you'd better stick by your words, and use that power fucking responsibly.

every piece of ""autistic representation"" in hollywood sucks not just because of the infantalization and inspiration porn but because movie executives always fail to realize the real universal autistic experience: spending your childhood slowly and unfalteringly realizing all of your friends not so secretly hated and/or merely tolerated you at best and you've missed every social signal about it ever

[folkdevilfables]

✵ Matching Pairs | Solomon x gn!reader

drabble (0.8k words) | sfw | gn!reader | fluff

cw: Solomon deserves his own warning I guess.

"Alright everyone, please get up and form pairs with someone other than the person you're sitting next to to practice the spell we just discussed."

You let out an internal exasperated sigh.

Seductive speechcraft. Probably one of the worst, if not the single worst subject at RAD. Also probably one of the most unfair ones.

How in all of Devildom do they expect a human to score even somewhat decent grades when succubi and incubi are in the same classroom? Not everyone literally has a maxed out charisma stat as Levi would say. It’s downright impossible to grade any of this fairly, let’s be honest.

You grab your textbook and are in the process of getting up and awkwardly walk around the classroom to look for a potential partner when you feel someone tugging on the sleeve of your uniform jacket.

You turn around.

"Hm?"

Satan looks at you. "How about we just stay here and I will be your partner for the exercise?"

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the teacher glaring at the two of you. You both still hadn't moved from your desk, unlike everyone else.

"Sorry Satan, the teacher said to pick anyone but the person you're sitting next to. Come on, let's get going before we get scolded."

"Ah, you're right. My mistake. Maybe another time." Satan got up, dragging his feet unenthusiastically over the classroom floor. He was giving you the distinct impression of a sad kitty.

You hastily walk in the other direction to avoid your disgruntled teacher, reluctantly looking around the room. The majority of your classmates had already formed pairs.

Well, I guess I could just quietly stand in a corner and wait to end up with the other person who inevitably won't have a partner by the end…

You know what? That actually sounds like a great pla-

"MC~ What about you and I form a pair? We would make a great couple!"

Without warning Asmo suddenly appears next to you, linking your arms.

"What do you think? <3"

"Oi Asmo, back off! I was just about to ask MC if they want to be my partner!"

"Nobody wants to be your partner, Mammon." Belphie shifts his attention to you, a soft smile on his lips. "How about we pair up, MC? I'm sure I can help you if you're having trouble with the spell."

"So can I, Belphie! And my seductive speechcraft grades are better than yours!" Asmo retorted, indignantly glaring at his younger brother with narrowed tangerine eyes.

"I still don't know how that's even possible, all you're doing during class is looking at your reflection in the windows and painting your nails."

"Well, at least I am not sleeping through the entire class like you!" Asmo was so busy arguing that you managed to unlink your arms and take two steps away from him.

Mammon joins the bickering, apparently unwilling to miss out even though he had no involvement whatsoever. Satan promptly follows shortly after.

You don't even pay attention to what their shouting match was about at this point. You got enough of that everyday at the House of Lamentation already.

Looking around the room, you spot Solomon. The white-haired sorcerer is eyeing the brothers with an amused smirk.

Hastily, you make your way over to him. Anything to get away from the quarreling brothers.

"Hey Solomon, do you have a partner yet?"

"As luck would have it, I actually don't. Would you mind partnering with me for the exercise?"

"I'd love to." Anything to get away from the bickering brothers for once.

"Wonderful." Solomon gives you a dazzling smile, a mischievous spark in his blue-brown eyes.

"What? Why Solomon?" You hear Mammon exclaim from across the classroom.

"Because all that you lot are doing is disrupting class, making it so that no one can concentrate on the task. Also, I don't exactly want to be accused of cheating in class since I could technically use the pacts to influence my performance for the better when working with any of you."

The brothers want to argue, but the at this point exasperated teacher swiftly shuts them down.

Solomon lightly taps you on the shoulder.

"Let's go over there and start the exercise, shall we?" He points at the corner of the classroom farthest away from the brothers.

You nod, exasperated. "Please."

The sorcerer glances at the brothers and notes with an amused smirk that all of them looked distinctly crestfallen about the sudden turn of events. "What's so funny?" You tilt your head and look at him from over the top of your textbook.

"Oh, I'm just happy that I got to partner up with you, that's all."

Unedited Solomon icon can be found here | support banner and divider made by @/saradika | all rights reserved banner by @/cafekitsune

[s4pphicb1mb0]

Smarty- Young!Grayson

Warnings: LESBIANS and flirting. R is 20, and Grayson is 21.

It was another day at the Piltover Enforcer Academy. The results were out, and you scored rank 1 like always. You were beaming and walked out with a certificate that was about to go on your parent's wall, again. Your family were natural-born enforcers. With your mom and dad being sheriffs at their time of service and your grandparents being teachers at the academy, all this came naturally to you.

The academy was a 4-year training period which included the first two years being trained, and the last 2 yeast training the new enrollers. 

You are walking to your dorm when you feel two hands on your shoulders, and you're spun around, and you're standing face to face with Grayson. The now 3rd-year senior who was always behind your ass, but she was also helpful to you often.

“So, what's the outcome smarty?” she asks you with a smile on her face

You flip your certificate around, and she grins and ruffles your hair

“I'm proud of you, little smartypant. Welcome to the second year. Will make sure you have a hellish time,” she smirks and looks you up and down. She was proud that you scored well, but nothing less was expected of you. After all, no one likes a failed nepo baby,

“Oh, shut u,p you k-” she interrupts you and holds your face between her thumb and index and leans closer

“And I advise you to keep that bratty little mouth shut if you don't want any problems with me in your year 2,” she says, her voice serious and gruff, but she still has that hint of a smirk on her face.

You just scowl in response and push her away

“Ugh, don't do that,” you pout and cross your arms

“Do what? I'm only instructing you. It's my job as a senior” She smirks and crosses her arms and looks down at you proudly. Grayson was a year older than you, and now you were promoted to year 2 and she was promoted to year 3. Of course, she was gonna use her status as a trainer to overpower you.

“Whatever I'm going to my dorm. See you tomorrow morning" You dismissively wave your hand and take your certificate back from her.

“Well I expect to see you on time for the laps,” she says with a pat on your shoulder.

You walk away and go to your dorm. You call your parents and talk to them and tell them about the good news. And you spend the rest of the evening reading and preparing for the new year. Yes, you were a huge nerd….. You were already reading for the next day so you could answer the teachers and show off your smarts.

The next morning you are woken up with the loud alarm that rings throughout the academy at 5 AM. You excitedly jump out of your bed, pick up your things, and go to common showers. You knew no one was gonna jump out of bed and go to shower, so you got the bathroom all to yourself. 

You don't waste time and are done in 15 minutes.

You come out and head straight to the breakfast hall. You were surprised to see how many people were already present. Did they not shower? You pick up a tray and get toast, egg, fruit salad cup, bacon, and a big cup of coffee.

When you spot Grayson, you go to her. You feel a bit shy because she's already sitting with her group of friends and you aren't sure if she's gonna let you sit. But she's your only semblance of a friend. 

You approach her table and everyone goes quiet and looks at you. Then Grayson looks at you and speaks.

“Oh….good morning”

“Hi” you mumble shyly, feeling a little embarrassed by all the eyes on you

“Wanna join us?” she asks, sensing your purpose

“Yes please..” you say as you slide into the seat next to her.

The next few moments are awkward, but then Grayson brings up your family history, and all her friends’ interest suddenly peaks and they're all interested in you.

“Y’know I'm surprised at how polite she's being, never was this nice to me” Grayson mentioned

“Oh shut up, you always piss me off” you quipped.

“See what I'm talking about, always gotta deal with this smartass,” she said with a grin and her friends laughed.

The alarm rings, signaling everyone to go to training. Grayson gives you a pat on the back and sends you off.

You do not dread lectures as much as physical training. You despised it. Sweating and exertion made you wanna skip classes. It was only 6 am and you knew the next 3 hours would be hell. You felt stupid as it clicked that people didn't shower because they would get sweaty after training.

You see Grayson scolding a few first-years who joined training late and weren't wearing proper training shoes. Well, she's supposed to be scolding them, but it looks like police intervention.

A 4th year senior comes and blows that obnoxious whistle and all the 1 and 2nd years start running. You were standing in the first file of the squad. 

1 lap in and you wanted to pass out. You see that everyone is focused on running and correcting year 1 students. So you pretend to trip and roll over on the floor. The whole squad of 2nd years stops and all surround you and ask you if you're okay.

The whistle blows again and you hear someone yell. “Aight, everyone move along and  leave the injured girl alone”

Grayson commanded. She walks to you and looks at you conveniently falling on the bushes.

“You think I'm dumb pretty girl?” she says with a smirk.

That made a flush rise up to your face which you couldn't hide

“I-I…what?” you stammer out

“I said. Do you think I'm dumb?” she crouches down to your level and stares at you.

“What do you mean…haha?” you nervously chuckle.

“I saw how you just stepped off the squad and conveniently rolled onto the bushes” She grips your chin in her hand and pulls you closer.

“S-sorry I-I just…um….sorry…..” you sigh and look away

She pulls you back by your chin and forces your chin upwards so you're looking at her

“Go take 12 laps,” she says

“What?! No!? I can't seriously plus the others only have 3 lap-”

She cuts you off

“Nope. That's your punishment” she says as she gets up and pulls you up by your arm and brushes the dust off you. She looks around for a second and then quickly pulls you behind a tree.

This was so sudden and out of character for Grayson

She pins you to the tree and gosh you're about to kiss.

This can't be real. She leans in and-

“Listen, you are gonna be the prefect this year” she whispers

Oh

No kissing?

“What do you mean prefect?Why?” you ask. You knew there were prefects every year, Grayson was the one for 3rd year.

But why were you gonna be th-

“Your parents were prefects for 4 years in a row. What do you mean by ‘why’? Plus you ranked 1 amongst not only your year, but overall all 4 years and the staff couldn't pick anyone better" she says, her tone serious as she kept her voice hushed.

“And what does that have to do with 12 laps?” you cross your arms defiantly and scowl at her.

“Oh, that? It's gotta do nothing. Just wanna set an example for year 1’s” She smirks and releases her grip on you which you forgot she even had it on you.

“I don't wanna do either, the perfect thing or 12 laps” you mutter

“What was that smarty?” she raises an eyebrow and looks at you

“I don't wanna do 12 laps or be a prefect,” you say, a bit louder

“Well, you don't have a choice. Go run or I will make you” she says

That just made you snort because you pictured Grayson peddling your legs like you do when you make babies burp

“What's so funny?” she asks, her tone almost seeming as if she was sad about being left out of the joke “Nothing. I'll do 6 laps. And I'll think over the prefect thing” you say as you run away, not giving her a second to add to your punishment.

“Hey! Smartass! Come back here!” but you were too far gone.

Oh, you were gonna be a prefect if it meant spending more time around Grayson.

[nothorses]

(cw: suicide mention, domestic abuse mention)

hey, you're in the teaching world, yeah?

do you mind if I ask how you decided to go into education, and how you're finding it as a job? I'm considering going into teaching (high school, English, which I think puts me a bit to the side of your specific area of expertise). but I'm thinking about the emotional toll of it. about having to balance legal bullshit like transphobic legislation and controlling bureaucracy with the respect and care that all students deserve but often don't get.

I'm also thinking about the stuff that scares me, the worst case scenarios of "what if one of my students kills themselves" or "what if I have to report domestic abuse, even if I know it'll make my student's life worse" and others along those lines.

how do you deal with that? how do any teachers? I'm gaining a new level of respect for the good teachers I've had throughout my life. this shit is so hard.

Honestly I'm going to answer your last question first because I think this is a really good question, and it's one I have a real answer for from personal experience! I will answer the rest under the cut, too.

"What if I have to report domestic abuse, even if I know it'll make my student's life worse?"

First, and most importantly: you should always be upfront with your students about your mandated reporter status. This is 100% within your rights to do, and it's important that they know you aren't able to keep secrets before they divulge any to you.

Typically, I like to frame this as: "I want you to know that I'm here for you, and I want to listen and help. I also cannot promise that everything you tell me will stay between us, especially if it's about your or someone else's safety." You don't need to announce this to the whole class all at once, but when students start to confide things to me, I make sure to tell them this so they can make an informed choice.

Second: If you know you need to make a report, talk to the student you are making the report on behalf of first. Giving them this warning can be invaluable, even if the report isn't going to be dangerous for them.

Third: you don't need to make the report right away! You need to make the report in a reasonable amount of time, but you can work with the student in question on this.

As an example: when a student confided in me and I knew I needed to make a report, I told them right away that I would have to report it, and had a conversation with them about it. We talked about whether they would be safe, and what would make them safer. We determined that while they weren't unsafe either way, they would feel better and have an overall easier experience if they could talk to their family about the situation first. I followed up with them about a week later, and when they confirmed that they'd been able to talk to their parents and it was okay to go ahead with the report, I told them when I would make the report, and then did so.

You should also be sure to mention in your report that you feel the student might be in greater danger if their family knows about the report. Give them as many details as you can: what kinds of things would endanger the student? What is the specific nature of that danger? If the person who acts on that report has these details, they might be able to adjust their follow-up and response accordingly to help protect the student as much as possible.

Alright, CPS stuff out of the way, I want to answer the rest of this as well. Thank you for the great question!

I decided to go into education because it's a thing I loved doing in some related jobs, and honestly, it just felt right for me.

I also ended up choosing not to go into classroom teaching specifically after my student teaching internship, because I felt that while I could be happy as a classroom teacher, it just wasn't really where I thought I'd be happiest. I didn't like the hours, I didn't like the expectation to police attendance, and I honestly had really enjoyed a lot of education-related work that wasn't classroom teaching a lot more.

I ended up getting my master's in education to expand my options, and I've landed in my dream job (except for the fact that it's part time.... for now. lol) which has been fantastic. I am also really glad I got my teaching certification regardless- it's made subbing a better option in terms of pay and just, like, the ability to work with public schools at all, and just about every single other grad from my master's program wishes they had gotten theirs for the same reason (and they're finding it really, really hard to do that post-graduation).

The emotional side is... well, honestly, it's definitely emotional work, but I find that really works both ways. I'm not one of those (incredibly special and admirable) teachers who would do and give anything just to work with their students, and I am definitely tired after work! But it's a good kind of tired, usually. I feel fulfilled. My work feels meaningful, and even when it's hard, it feels worth it; I never feel like I'm struggling for nothing, or for the benefit of someone who doesn't deserve it (like a CEO, or a shitty manager). I can't understate the value of that.

The part of the work that I think is dangerous isn't that it's emotionally involved-- it's burnout. It's being overworked and underappreciated for too long, and becoming emotionally detached because you have nothing left to give at all. And that is going to depend on your workplace, what they're demanding of you, and the support they do or do not give you.

The best defense for this, imo, is being picky and sticking up for yourself and your needs. Learn to identify the signs of burnout in yourself, and get the fuck out of there as soon as you can when you notice them. Do not hesitate. Burnout will make you hate your job, it'll make you feel like a bad teacher, it'll make you detach, and it can definitely cause you to lose the patience and compassion you need to be a good teacher for your students.

Also: do not ever give in to the teachers who bitch about their students. Ever. Don't let them drag you down into that bitter, burnt out, resentful mindset with them. Don't gossip about students. Don't blame them for how you feel. Sit with someone else at lunch, even if those are your friends. This is one of the best pieces of advice my professors ever gave me; trust me on this one.

As for the other things...

I really encourage you to get your teaching certification through a college degree program, and try out classroom teaching for yourself. If you don't like it, if the bureaucracy is too much or you can't do the emotional side of it or it's just not for you, now you know! That teaching cert will serve you in a multitude of other ways, though, and if you end up in education regardless, you'll be glad you did it.

Transphobic laws and tendencies are going to come through most in school administration, and you won't feel them nearly as much if your school's admin is on your side. I really encourage you to be picky about the schools you work for. There are schools out there that will have your back, though; you might just have to look for, and even relocate for them. You know your circumstances best, and you'll have to determine if that's reasonable for yourself.

And.... if a student kills themselves, or something else terrible happens to them: you will grieve. You will hurt, you will be angry, you will be sad, you will wish it didn't happen, you will want to blame yourself, and you will grieve. Eventually, you will also process and heal and accept. And you will also continue to grieve. It's hard. It won't ever not be hard. Unfortunately, though, you won't escape grief no matter what you do for work. It's up to you to decide how you need to handle that risk.

Sorry for how rambly all of this is-- and best of luck! The world needs more teachers who are trying to do right by their students, and if you do choose to go into education, your students will be lucky for it. I hope you take care of yourself at least as much as you take care of them.

[ms-demeanor]

Hey so actually this post motivated me to write 3500 words on success traps, which is setting up systems where success can sneak up on you and trap you in spite of your executive function going on a vacation.

"Put your homework in an orange folder" is an example of something that a neurotypical parent thinks is a success trap that they're setting up for their kid.

The trap that the kid might set up for themself is "take photos of all my homework so that if I lose it I can send it to the teacher or work on it without the original paper version." (In my pre-cellphone education era my success trap might have been "turn in homework before the class ends if the teacher allows it" or "do homework with my friend from class who DOESN'T lose homework every day and ask them if they can bring it to school for me")

Some samples:

A success trap is something that will redirect you to what you want to do when you would otherwise fail. Success traps can be physical or mental, they can be tools you use or habits you form; they just have to be something that points you back in the direction of your goal when you get diverted. Features that are present in a success trap include:

Reduces distractions

Reminds you of your task

Removes Speedbumps

Increases focus

Increases efficiency

------------

Tools to Build Success Traps

Apps, web extensions, physical tools, habits, clothing, and training can all be components of building a successful success trap.

Reduce Distractions

LeechBlock Browser Extension and other access control extensions - can be used to block specific websites for set timeframes.

Noise-blocking headphones

Setting up "Focus Time" rules in a household or work environment

Task Reminders

Timers, Planners, Calendars, Alarms, Post-its, whiteboards, To-do Lists, Task Managers and a ton of other traditional tools to remind people what they're working on.

Less conventional reminders include WristLists/Reminder Bracelets, writing tasks on your skin with pens or sharpies, website blocking, physical barriers to distractions (chair in front of the door, phone underneath a task-oriented notepad) and "[Clean/Cook/Work] With Me" Videos.

Remove Speedbumps

Speedbumps tend to be very individual and contextual, so removing them takes experience. If your child struggles to get homework done because they feel like they need to look up every word they don't know on the assignment sheet, you might want to sit with them and go through the definitions before they start working. But sometimes the speedbump to making madelines is simply the fact that someone has to empty the sink of dishes before cooking can commence, so all you can do is either wash the dishes in the moment or work on building a robust dishwashing system for ensuring there are no plates in the sink.

Increase Focus

Moderate emotions; you'll be more focused when you're less upset or angry or sad - if you need to pay attention to something it might be helpful to bring your mood back to something stable and moderate before you get started. Since ADHD includes emotional dysregulation this may be difficult, but you know the best way to put yourself back on an even keel. If breathing exercises give you panic attacks, don't use them to try to calm down; maybe you'll do better with three sets of pushups or five minutes of a phone game.

Helpful distractions - many people with ADHD find that they work better with background noise or some other kind of external stimulation while doing focused, boring tasks. Listening to music or podcasts, or putting a familiar movie on or turning on a white noise machine can all be helpful distractions that keep the ADHD brain juuuuuust focused enough on something in the periperhy to allow your brain to pay attention to the task that needs to be done (rather the crushing silence of a tense open plan office or the distracting noises the clock and ceiling lights are making.

Increase Efficiency

This one is also highly contextual and highly specific. One example of a success trap that I'm considering making is a single-key keyboard that I can use for "typing" passwords. One of the ones I'm considering purchasing is a mouse with programmable buttons. Getting a mouse to do "Ctrl+C/CTRL+V/CTRL+SHIFT+V" while using excel for web would be a game-changer for me in terms of efficiency. Maybe I'll even get around to it someday. But another example of an efficiency win is just checking my email and messages any time I sit down at my desk. If I haven't stood up in four hours I'm off the hook, but if I stood up to get a refill on my coffee for three minutes, I must check my email when I get back to my desk. That's just how it's done. I don't make the rules. (Not true, I do make the rules but the Alli who makes the rules and the Alli who follows the rules are two different people who just happen to both live in my head.

Get creative when you're thinking about what tools to add to your toolbox. And maybe make one of those tools a literal toolbox. The plastic totes used for cleaning supplies can also be used for gardening tools, pet care, car parts, and barbecues. Make use of them because they might save you a ton of work and there's no reason not to.

----------------

The website is free; the reason I started using it for writing up stuff like this more than I use tumblr for writing up stuff like this is that tumblr is too hard to search and "wiki is easy to format and easy to write" is a success trap for me.

When I was a kid I kept failing classes because I'd lose my homework. I'd finish it, but between the dining room table and the classroom it would just walk away. Sometimes it ended up in my backpack, sometimes it didn't; sometimes I finished the homework at school and it got home in my backpack but wasn't there the next day.

To attempt to address this, my parents got me a neon orange folder to put in my backpack; it was my homework folder, all homework was to go into that folder and that folder only, and it was to only come out of that folder when it was being worked on. I was to put homework in the homework folder as soon as it was assigned and if I'd worked on it, put it back in the folder as soon as it was finished. The logic here was that using the folder was supposed to be automatic, and you wanted a bright color so it wouldn't get lost in the depths of a backpack.

I think I lost about eight of those before my parents stopped buying orange folders.

So it was very frustrating to search "how to be organized at work as an adult with ADHD" only to get a list that said "set alarms and write things down and try to make friends with a more organized person" which was immediately followed by tips to help your ADHD child stay organized and the one right at the top was to put their homework in a bright folder so they couldn't lose it.

If you have been harmed by the ADHD Tips Industrial Complex you may be entitled to a packet of fun-dip and a cactus cooler as consolation for losing your homework folder again.

[randomfoggytiger]

Jesus, what was that podcast?? We can tolerate cannabis, but… we need to talk about Cosby. Or don't talk, forget and move on to the next one. Please don't say it was cute and funny.

A few points:

Firstly, I'm sure you were reaching out in advocatory passion, but please remember: I'm an adult, and I'll say what I want. Always open to constructive criticism or critique, but this was neither of those.

Secondly, David Duchovny and Jaleel White were discussing the oft-debated concept of art vs. artist; and they built off of Cosby because Jaleel, not DD, brought up the man specifically to draw attention to a thought process he'd encountered while writing his book.

Thirdly, David Duchovny does three things in the conversation: 1. understand that context is key to understanding situations, 2. agree that contextualizing behavior leads to a detached observation that neither condemns nor condones, and 3. reinforce that he's not talking about (and I quote) "crimes" when he discusses humans, their failures, and mistakes-- even further, he says there's a marked difference between "mistakes" and "pathological mistakes" (the former is redeemable because they grow and learn, the latter is a different animal because they refuse to atone and change.)

Fourthly, David Duchovny is of the mind that, culturally, the public is moving towards context rather than complete erasure. It's an ugly but true aspect of humanity that the worst people can also create beautiful art-- one that Stephen Fry (a Jewish man) brought up when he and Craig Ferguson discussed his love for Wagner's (an antisemite) music. (The conversation starts at 1:13:01):

DD also believes it's a harder but more realistic way to tackle what can and can't be held up as artistic merit.

Fifthly, David Duchovny doesn't know where he, personally, draws the line-- mainly, I would wager, because society as a whole hasn't arrived at a clear and distinct set of rules regarding the topic.

Just for you, anon, I listened to (most of) the podcast again, and transcribed the conversation-- point-by-point-- so that you and others can judge the context for yourselves:

**Note**: There are likely typos, but I can't be bothered to edit them out now. Will ghost edit later.

DD and Jaleel meet-and-greet.

Jaleel relays how kids at his daughter's school endeared him to the parents.

Jaleel relates a story where a black teacher was using him as an example of an "acceptable" character for white people, erasing the importance of his work and the character's legacy.

DD asks how Jaleel crafted his character and comedic timing.

Jaleel talks about sports, keeping his performance as a child fresh, the different directors and people that made an impact at the time.

Which led into Cosby, who Jaleel brought up, and needed to talk about to get some disappointments off his chest:

DD: "You mentioned listening to the audience-- so there's a feedback loop you're engaged with there. And also it affects your timing: because you can't, like, there's often two jokes in a row, you gotta wait, you know. So, where... At twelve, you're just feeling your way through-- you just 'have it.' Was that your experience of it: that I have this gift, and I'm just going to keep doing it'?"

JW: "Again, I think the beautiful part about having grown up in the 80s and 90s is I didn't see it as a gift. It was just me being 'me.' And, um, if anything I was in awe of... yeah, your Eddie Murphys and, y'know...." [Pause.] "Suffice it to say, I wish I could say another name but, your Bill Cosbys at the time."

DD: [Reassuring voice} "Yeah, sure."

JW: "Everybody on In Living Color."

DD: "Yeah."

JW: "All of my inspiration was generally coming from adults...."

7. DD and Jaleel open up about comedic inspirations, and the hilarious child actors they thought were above the material given to them.

8. Talk about the joy of performing. Harrison Ford anecdote.

9. Aging out of the Urkel character and panic (and sitcom characters.) Reality was different for sitcom actors in the 90s-- could get away with a little more absurdity than today. Surrealism.

10. Acting has been under duress for the past four or five years.

11. DD and Jaleel talk reboots and auditioning for Full House. "Rejection's God's protection." Model New York in L.A.

12. The 90s is our 60s now (DD doesn't like the internet.)

13. Jaleel's experience writing his book.

14. Jaleel talks about leaving out corporal punishment: how it would be unfair to include that aspect of his mother's punishment when it was the norm while he was growing up:

DD: "But isn't this what we run into all the times, because cultural norms change."

JW: "Right."

DD: "Not just parenting; but also racial--"

JW: "Yep."

DD: "--sexual, religious."

JW: "Exactly."

DD: "We have to be able to contextualize the behavior."

JW: "Yep, yep."

DD: "Without condoning or condemning, right?"

JW: "Right. You know, I wrote about Mr. C, um, in my book a lot; and.... And there's certain people that still-- even though I devoted several pages to put it in the proper, putting my interaction with him in the proper historical context-- that are still gonna be like--"

DD: "Oh, when you said Mr. C, I thought you meant cocaine."

JW: "No!"

[Both laugh, tease at his misstep.]

[Continued:]

JW: "Okay, we're gonna say 'Cosby.' Um, but some people still felt like I was celebrating him too much; and it's just like, Nah, man. I don't think you really understand what a loss that was for us culturally-- as black people; and as people who just toil in comedy, not even black. What that, y'know, did for-- and what a let down it was for us to see his legacy come down, like... like a statue... of, of... I can't even say what kind of statue."

DD: "I understand."

JW: "You understand what I'm saying-- like a fallen statue of, you, you, you.... This was a monument, this dude. And, um. So, I would always love for this show [reboot], if we get a chance-- and we will, I can feel it-- that, that we're able to depict history with respect; but at the same time create conversation between people as they're watching. 'Hey, this is the way it was then; and this is the way it'll never be--"

DD: "The question becomes do we throw out the entire existence of the person, and the legacy of their art and comedy."

JW: "Yeah."

DW: "Or... do we try and, in an adult way, see the difference between the person and the art."

JW: "I think it all goes out, man."

DD: "I think we have been in that place. I think we might be moving out of that place."

JW: "I'd like to see us move out of it because I let God do the judging. But, um, but that might be wishful thinking, man. I think it all goes out."

DD: "You say that you let god do the judging. I wouldn't say that for myself; but I try to separate, y'know, the person from the work as much as I can."

JW: "I do, too."

DD: "Yes. There's crimes; there's horrible things that can happen and can be perpetrated by certain people. But you look back at some of the great art, and...."

JW: "Oh, yeah."

DD: "In history. And they weren't saints. And--"

JW: "But it wasn't covered the same way. And because it wasn't covered the same way, it was weird; it was strange. I actually went to see my favorite art exhibits I've ever seen; and it was, um, in San Francisco. And it was a combination of Walt Disney and Salvador Dali. I had no idea that they were great friends."

DD: "Neither did I."

JW: "And Salvador Dali's art is just captivating. You just stare at it, it's amazing.... They were great friends; and then after having seen that art exhibit, I did my own research on Salvador Dali. And this dude... this dude was a monster! I mean, I'm not even going to describe what this dude's afflictions were!" DD: "Right."

JW: "But we didn't live in internet times where you could learn of Salvador's afflictions in 30 seconds around the world, everybody hitting their phones."

DD: "If I could just boil that down to--"

JW: "Please, do."

DD: "--to where we are in this podcast, which is... as well. We can't, it's harder to get beyond your failures now, because they're curated forever on this thing; in this cloud. You used to be able to forget some stuff."

JW: "Yep."

DD: "Some stuff used to be able to go away. And I'm not talking about crimes. I'm just talking about human failure, whatever. Bad judgement. Mistakes. Uh, flops. And, y'know, part of what I like to talk about on this podcast is, y'know, forgiveness and forgetting; and kind of... accepting of those moments when we fail-- as long as they're not pathological, and we don't continue to do the same thing.

TLDR: Jaleel White started the conversation (wanted to discuss the misinterpretation of his words on the Cosby subject); David Duchovny added his two cents in agreement; both disagreed on the cultural castigation of canceled artists; and DD drew a marked distinction between crimes and mistakes.

[disdaidal]

The moment I think I'm finally getting the hang of this thing, I don't. And it puts my mood down instantly.

[seiwas]

sellllllll it's meeeeee. hehehehehehehehehhehe

so for ur writing exercises.... deku + light? please? pretty please?

:3c

heheh heheh hehe niku. this will be the death of me. me writing izuku for the first time 🥲 i will only do this for you </3

contains: established relationship, spoilers for the end of the manga, aged up deku but sometime in between the final outcome (he doesn't get the h*** s*** from bakugo yet), mentions of sex and scars

deku + light

izuku only sleeps with the lights off.

it isn't uncommon; many people you know can't sleep with even just a sliver of light turned on somewhere in the room. but the difference with izuku, you learn, is not that he's unable to stand the light―it's that he refuses to.

you quickly pick up on it the first few times he sleeps over.

he fidgets in bed, pretty badly, actually. the nightlight you sleep with glows a warm yellow, illuminating the side of your face and coating him in its afterglow. you chalk it up to nerves, how he pulls at his sleeves and adjusts his position constantly; he is, after all, one of the most anxious people you know.

and this relationship―it's new. heck, even you feel a little jittery with his arm wrapped around you.

the rhythmic tapping on your hip only increases pace. you don't think he realizes it, so your hand gently reaches for his, intertwining your fingers as you turn around in his arms.

he's close, nearly touching you nose-to-nose; the proximity leaves you fuzzy, a little ticklish, so you giggle, a soft "oops," as the freckles dusting his face almost glisten under the warm light.

"hi," you whisper, meeting his eyes; they stare back at you wide in surprise, "can't sleep?"

he looks almost guilty at your question, as if you’ve caught him with the one thing he's been trying to keep from you.

"just—" his voice comes out louder than intended, prompting him to chuckle nervously as he readjusts his volume, "just winding down, sorry."

you inch closer, nuzzling his nose lightly, "it's okay."

"did i wake you?" he asks, cheeks flushing pink as his eyebrows furrow in immediate concern. his expression is something caught between stifling a grin and feeling sorry.

you shake your head against the pillow you share, strands of your hair tangling with his. "just winding down," you tease, watching as his gaze turns softer, eyelids drooping heavier.

sometimes, you think, izuku holds the world in his eyes―a deep, dark green, the color of life. most times, they look at you with wonderment, bright and alive; photos from inko tell you they're the eyes of his inner child.

on nights like this one, however, they hide a depth in them weighted by what you can only assume is time, and all that has happened to him in such a short span of it.

you try your best to understand what lies beneath them, knowing full well he'll never tell you outright what truly bothers him.

"is it the light?" you bring up, some time after laying in silence.

"hm?" he clarifies.

"do you have a hard time sleeping with the nightlight?"

his eyes widen briefly once more, as if shocked that you've caught him again. these split second reactions are ones you've learned to be attentive to when it comes to izuku.

"no," he tries to lie, but you know better as you turn to your nightstand and reach for its switch, "you don't–"

"it was hurting my eyes," you quickly make up an excuse, tucking yourself closer under his chin as you cut off his attempt to deny it again.

finding out that the light was the problem was the easy part—

you'd begun to notice much earlier on that izuku was barely rested on the nights he'd spend at your place. it was only when your old nightlight broke that you began to notice him waking up much later than you did, groggily rousing from a deep sleep.

—what was hard, was figuring out why.

at first, you suspected it was his scars.

"s-sorry, it's not—" he'd warned you, right as your hands gripped the hem of his shirt the first time you were about to have sex, "—it's not nice."

you didn't care though; you still don't care, and you've made that abundantly clear to him since. you love izuku and all his parts―all the nicks and jaggedy pieces of skin that make up who he is.

when you eventually ask him about it, with a request that he be honest with you for once, he tells you that it is and it isn't―the reason why he exclusively sleeps with the lights off, that is.

it's an odd, comforting relationship he has with his body—that he is simultaneously grateful and sorry for how its become a canvas, both painted and marred to symbolize japan’s historic last stand.

you find out the real reason when you catch him staring at his hands.

he does it often, when he thinks you aren't looking—his fists bunched up in the same way he used to watch the power of one for all course through his fingertips; the same way he used to prepare them in battle.

there’s a faraway look in his eyes that lingers, you notice—a little wistful if anything.

“do you miss it?” you finally ask. he gives you the same shocked look he does every time, as if he’s been caught with a secret he’s been trying to hide.

he’s learned a fair bit about you now, too, though—lying to you is futile when you’ve perfected reading his truth. he stares at his fists again as you take a seat beside him, moving to give you space. you rest your head on his shoulder gently, waiting.

“sometimes,” he admits, but you know it’s an understatement.

“i think about the vestiges a lot. i miss them the most, i think,” he continues, clenching his fists tightly, “i always try to reach out to them, but i guess it doesn’t work that way.”

“i… i try to replicate the right conditions every night, but…” then he lets go, stretching his fingers out wide. the scars on the surface ripple through his skin, telling its own story.

you hum, acknowledging what he means. silence sits with the two of you as you take his hand in yours, slowly unfurling his fingers until his palm reveals itself to you. it’s rough to the touch, seasoned with hard work and all that he’s been through.

“is that why you prefer the dark?” you ask softly, after some time.

it's not often that you stay up later than izuku does. when you do though, you catch him shifting in bed, moving from side-to-side. you pretend you aren't awake, but you hear him mumble their names, dwindling in volume as he dozes off to sleep.

he stares at his palm for a moment before he admits quietly, "yeah." his brows furrow as if contemplating whether to say more, but he shakes his head, dark green strands swaying to the beat of his embarrassed chuckle, "nevermind, it's silly."

"it's not."

you intertwine your fingers, sandwiching his hand between yours. a slight sheen glosses over his eyes as he tilts his head up to look at you. he draws in a breath, before it spills over.

"it's..." he finds the words, and you squeeze his hand in comfort, "it's easier to believe it was all real when the lights are out, and that maybe it can happen again."

[tofics]

ANOTHER DEAN FIREFIGHTER FIC?!?!

Oh, don't mind me. Just me having a fangirling moment over my favorite Dean!AU, by @zepskies no less! 😭 And I have things to say about it! 😌

Okay, first of all - love love loooveeee @redhoodieone for requesting this and @zepskies for bringing it to life. Firefighter!Dean just does things to me. And yes, Alex, it's all your fault. (Thank you!) And now the reader is an ELEMENTARY TEACHER? ARE YOU KIDDING ME! That only happens to be what I'm studying! It's like this trope was written for me 😭

Now. I know I've said it before, but as a plus-size girly myself, reading fics where the reader is plus-size herself not only helps with the immersion, but also becomes even more of a delight when they're pictured as desirable. And you did such a good job with that. The repeated slaps on reader's ass, his obvious attraction to her, but most importantly, his outrage when she calls herself fat. Like he can't even believe she'd think of herself that way, because that title simply never occurred to him. Such a rewarding and healing thing to read! 🥹

And god, all those feelings of comparing herself to Lisa and Jo. I wish I didn't know that sinking feeling in her gut when she talked about how she had to slim herself down to fit into the dress, while Lisa and Jo do it so effortlessly. Or the absolute gut-punch that was Lisa's talk about "sticking to a clean diet for the baby" - as if she gives two shits about the little one growing in reader's belly 😒 Ten bucks say she secretly wishes there was no baby to begin with (which, honestly, theoretically I can't blame her for...), nor that she cares about the reader's "health". Fat shaming packaged as "caring". 🤮 Ugh, it made me so mad just reading it! (You wrote it so well 🥲)

Okay, but back to Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean.

“Ready for more, baby? Or you want to call it a night?” he asked. His tone was playful, but it was actually a serious question. You blinked in surprise. You’d never had a guy be this, well…generous, and not expect anything in return, especially not for just a hookup.

GIRL. Now why was this so freaking hot. Jesus Christ. And then his admiration when she's on top next morning 😭

“Goddamn, baby. Givin’ me quite a show,” he says, in a panting voice that’s deep as sin. You utter a breathy laugh. Dean means it though. He’s enjoying the way you brush your hair out of your face, your beautiful tits in his face while you truly let loose for him.

*dreamy sigh*

And this. THIS. The moment where he catches her disappointment. (Cause, ngl, I would've been uncertain as hell myself if I'd just slept with this guy for the third time in one night and suddenly he's scrambling to leave...)

Your smile barely reaches your eyes. He’s pressed for time, but he still notices. He slows himself down and cups your cheek. “Hey.” He gets your pretty eyes looking up at him, and he gives you a real kiss, nice and slow. He cradles your cheek and brushes his thumb across your skin. “Thanks,” he says. His now familiar grin manages to make you smile. “And I mean that.”

Oh, Dean Winchester, the man you are.

Alex, I can't wait to see where this goes! Lisa as a more bitchy version is quite the interesting read, and their little unintentional three-way set-up is bound to cause some drama 👀 And I'm here for it!!! Can't wait for the next chapter - coming out on here just one day after my birthday! Can't wait to read it 💓

IF I STAY - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

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

AN: Yes, here’s another firefighter AU! Based on a request from one of my lovely Patreon members: @redhoodieone. She requested pretty much all the major beats of this story, so hopefully I did her request justice! This is also partially inspired by Fools Rush In, a beautiful movie with Salma Hayek and Matthew Perry (Rest in Peace, King).

Song Inspo: “I Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis

Word Count: 8.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, thick thirty, hints of body insecurity, but also body appreciation, angst, and hurt/comfort.

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Part 1: Fools Rush In

Slowly, your eyes slide open into the waking world. Your head is resting on something warm, firm…and a little sweaty. You pick your head up, despite the disorienting, muddy feeling of a slight hangover.

A groan bubbles in your throat. Your gaze travels downward, and you realize that what you’re looking at is more of a who.

Your eyes widen. Oh…my…God…

Not only are you very naked, but your firm pillow is too. It happens to be your best friend’s brother.

Yes, holy fucking shit! You slept with your best friend’s brother.

Biting the inside of your lip, you can’t help but take him in, here in the raw light of day as he lays peacefully on his back. His head lolls to the side on your usual pillow. Your eyes roam over the bow of his lips, the dark eyebrows, lightish brown hair that's softer than it should be between your fingers.

He’s painfully handsome. There’s a slight hesitation in your touch, but you softly trace the cut of his jaw and the stubble spread across it. That roughness feels familiar, and not just under the pads of your fingers, though the thought makes you blush. You begin to remember the night before, almost like a movie reel through your mind… 

Ooooh, right. That’s what happened.

It starts at Sam Winchester’s joint bachelor-bachelorette party at a nice hotel downtown. He and Eileen aren't the "strippers and coke" kind of party couple. They're more the "wine and brie en croute with pickled olives" on the expensive crackers you can't afford—kind of couple.

They look perfectly in love, if a bit long-suffering while Dean gives a hilarious, somewhat inappropriate, but still ultimately heartwarming toast to their happiness. After lowering the glass of champagne from his lips, his gaze catches on yours in the crowd. You suck in a subtle breath. 

Technically you’ve met him already, being one of Eileen’s bridesmaids, but there’s something about his green eyes that pin you to the floor. When he hands over the mic to Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, his head turning away from you to offer her a smile breaks the spell. It allows you to breathe.

Dean later finds you by the bar. You’re drinking a rum and coke with your slice of cake, trying not to get a single crumb on your dress. You've put a lot of work into affording it, let alone fitting in it. He leans his elbows casually on the counter and looks over at you.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he nods at you with a smile, subtly taking you in first. Then, his eyes go to your plate. “Ooh, red velvet. Gotta get me some of that.”

You smile back at him. “It’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, looks good in your hand,” he says, adding a teasing wink for good measure.

You don't know why that does it for you, but a half-flattered, half-nervous laugh tumbles out of your mouth. Sam has warned you before about Dean. Apparently his older brother is a bit of a flirt; a ladies’ man.

A man whore, are the words Eileen used.

You’re honestly surprised he’s talking to you when Eileen’s other bridesmaids, Lisa and Jo, are sipping martinis together down at the other end of the bar. Guess they didn’t want cake.

They look beautiful in their lithe, strapless little cocktail dresses. You’ve had to give up chocolate, bread, and cheese for three months straight to fit into this dress, something slinky and red that drapes over your thicker, curvy figure. But you’re proud of the fact that you’re letting yourself eat cake tonight, even though you’ve often felt like Mrs. Doubtfire while standing for pictures next to Lisa and Jo.

They’re Eileen’s friends, not so much your crowd. No matter how much you’ve tried to get to know them while helping the wedding planning in whatever way you can, you still get a high school clique vibe from the women, if with more “polite smiles.” Then they’ll typically go back to talking about crystal centerpieces—or whatever in-depth conversation they were having before you were there. 

But right now, Dean’s focus is on you. When he asks you more about yourself, you tell him about recently earning an elementary education degree.

“Ah, but you already knew that, because Sam told you we graduated college together,” you realize, with warmth tingeing your cheeks. That subject came up pretty quickly when he introduced you to his brother.

Dean’s smile confirms your suspicions, so you just keep filling the silence on reflex.

“Well, I actually just started teaching my first ever semester of second graders. They’re a bit of a handful, but overall, they’re really sweet.” Your smile falters. “Except for this one kid who likes to put little tacks on my chair. He’s kind of a menace, but I think if I bribe him with enough lollipops, he’ll give it a rest. I mean, it’s a behavioral issue and I should probably call his parents. But it's kind of hard to tell them their son is trying to make my ass into a pincushion."

Dean's laugh comes out in a sharp burst, like he wasn't expecting what just came out of your mouth. You didn't either, honestly. You giggle more out of embarrassment, ducking your head.

"He’s in second grade, you know?" you say, in between laughter. "I don't think that little footnote needs to end up on his permanent record. But then there's Micah. He's so friggin' smart. He can read at the fifth grade level already. Can you believe that? And I know I'm not supposed to have favorites, but his grades on his spelling tests get him a spot in the comfy bean bag chair pretty much every Friday. Honestly, I think that's what I like about working with kids. I get to see that spark on their face when something just finally clicks for them. Their little faces get all bright and happy and…ugh. God, I'm sorry. I'm rambling, right?”

You stop yourself with a hand sliding over your mouth, not quite covering your smile of embarrassment.

Dean’s grin just widens, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. 

"It's okay. I kinda like it," he teases.

You duck your head, biting your lip against a groan. He chuckles and reaches out for your hand, earning your nervous glance. He quirks his head.

“Hey, you're passionate about what you do, helping kids. That's nothin' to be ashamed of,” he says, brushing his thumb over your hand. “But sweetheart, I gotta ask. Am I making you nervous or something?”

God, yes, you think, especially at that sweetheart thing. It’s making your heartbeat tick up a syncopated rhythm, but you shake your head, biting the straw of your rum and coke.

“No, not at all,” you say, in a hopefully “breezy” kind of way. You touch your fingers to his wrist. “Tell me about you though. Sam mentioned that you’re a firefighter?”

“Ah, yeah. Firefighter in training,” he says, with a more genuine smile.

He just started at the Fire Academy, and he tells you about all the drills he’s had to learn and all the training he’s had to do to be able to keep up with his classes. You subtly eye him while you sip at your drink, and you notice the crisp cut of his buttoned-down shirt and leather jacket, the definition of muscle across his thighs under the slacks, even while he casually sits.

Your gaze subtly travels down his long bowed legs, smart dress shoes. His cologne is woody and masculine, but not overpowering; maybe bergemot and sandalwood. It pleasantly wafts under your nose every time he gestures with his hands while he talks.

“Aw man, I can’t hold out anymore. I think I need to get me some of that cake before it’s gone,” he says, getting up from his chair.

You’re a bit disappointed that he’s leaving, until he stops short.

“You want another piece?” he offers, gesturing at your empty plate that’s been resting on the counter.

You blink in surprise, but you shake your head. “Oh, no. I probably shouldn’t.”

“Why not? It’s a party,” Dean reasons. His grin is too damn infectious. It has you smiling, and begrudgingly agreeing.

Not only does he bring you more cake, but you watch him eat three whole slices before he asks you to dance.

The rest of it flashes through your mind like strobe lights—the way he’d started small and respectful with his larger hand closed over yours and the other along the curve of your waist. He guided you closer and closer, until you were turned around into his arms, and you could feel his warm breath on your neck.

You felt his lips teasing your skin. Then those hands tantalizingly drifted down your every soft curve, as if showing you a preview of everything he could do to you, and every way he’d make you come apart. You believed him.

And when he whispered in your ear, asking if he could take you home, you let him.

You let him drive you in that big black piece of history he drives. Used to be my dad’s car, he said. A Chevy something. You couldn’t really remember much when his hand was drifting up and down your thigh like that.

His presence burned hot at your back when you two eventually got to the front door of your apartment, your hands just barely shaking as you got the key in. Twist and click—

He waited until you flipped the lights on. Then he turned you around slowly in his arms and pulled you in close, all the while asking you with his eyes and raised brows. This okay? You want this?

“Do I still make you nervous?” he asked, his lips twitching at a smile when yours do.

You nodded, uttering a small giggle. “In a good way.”

That was when he finally kissed you, hot and slow, like he meant to devour you whole. He moaned at the taste of you, at the feel of your ass squeezed in his hands. You clung onto him strong, breathing into his kiss and trying to meet every single demand of his lips.

It soon became a fiery tear to your bedroom, one lamp flicked on, hot breaths and nice clothes crumpled to the floor. You didn’t feel self-conscious even once when he guided you under him on the bed, because he wasted no time in taking you apart, inch by inch.

His lips kissed and licked and sucked a burning trail down your neck, over your collarbone and between your breasts. You felt his hardened length trapped between your bodies while his hands explored you, teasing your breasts and sensitive nipples, and he mapped his way down with his lips.

You explored every part of him you could—every dip of muscle, firm shoulders and the slopes of his back, and then back up to tangle in his hair. Your heated gasps and whimpers filled the room when his sinful mouth found what it was looking for between your legs.

It wasn’t often that you had a strong pair of shoulders to rest your thighs on, but Dean’s grip was hard enough to leave deep fingerprints of pressure on each thigh while he slipped his tongue through your folds and feasted on you.

“D-Dean, oh God,” you gasped. Every sound you made was a sensuous symphony in his ears, washing over his skin and making the well of his desire churn hot in his lower belly. He had to roll his hips into the mattress for some relief for his aching cock, even while he moved his mouth up to your clit, circling the swollen bud with his tongue. He had enough room to slip two fingers deep inside your sopping wet channel, exploring you deeply, stroking and twisting to find what you needed.

Your thighs trembled and squeezed tight on either side of his head. When he sucked your clit tight between his lips, you uttered as gasping moan as that coil snapped its release. Your inner walls fluttered around his fingers. Yours clenched tightly in his hair, threatening to rip out a few strands.

Dean stroked you all through your first orgasm, giving slower licks to your clit. He seemed to sense when you couldn’t handle anymore though. You tugged more sharply on his hair, and he finally pulled away, moving back up your body to gauge your reaction.

You’d collapsed boneless against the bed, but you still managed to smile up at him as you caught your breath.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked. But his self-satisfied grin almost made you laugh. You took his glistening face between your hands and pulled him down for a grateful kiss.

After a moment to savor your lips, he broke away for a second to catch his breath himself. You stroked his back all the while.

“You know, for a minute down there, I thought you might not let me come back up,” he teased.

You choked on a laugh, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Honestly wouldn’t have minded if you did suffocate me,” he chuckled, accompanied by a slap to your left ass cheek. You squealed, and blushed hotly at the way he was grinning down at you.

“Ready for more, baby? Or you want to call it a night?” he asked. His tone was playful, but it was actually a serious question. You blinked in surprise. You’d never had a guy be this, well…generous, and not expect anything in return, especially not for just a hookup.

But you shook your head and sat up, slipping a hand behind Dean’s neck. After a beat of hesitation, you guided him down to you for a slow, sensuous kiss.

“No, I don’t want to call it a night,” you whispered. Your hand drifted down his bare chest, and lower still. You showed him just how well you could return the favor.

And now, come the morning, you’re blushing down to your neck as each scene flashes through your mind. You feel the ghost of his hands all over your body, and how you’d never quite felt quite as bold and sexy and beautiful with a near stranger as you had with Dean effing Winchester. Your best friend’s brother.

You begin to worry your bottom lip with your teeth. How the hell are you going to tell Sam? Especially after he warned you about exactly this. Plus, there’s a reason you don’t typically do the one-night stand thing, and this has the potential to become something very complicated.

You know what, it’s fine! you think. We’re two consenting adults. We’re both single. And maybe…maybe it could be more than a hookup. Maybe we can see each other again, see where it goes.

“What’re you thinking so hard about?” Dean says, his voice croaking with sleep.

You look down at him in surprise. His eyes have cracked open and he has your hand captive, stopping you from continuing to idly trace patterns on his bare chest. You smile in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you say. Again, you bite your lower lip. “Um, good morning.”

“Morning, sweetheart,” he grins lazily. “You sure wore me out last night.”

Your smile becomes more genuine, even if you turn your face away somewhat shyly.

“Aw, don’t do that,” Dean says. He slides his hand up your arm and behind your neck, tangling into your already tangled hair when he guides you down to his lips for a kiss. “You were awesome.”

You giggle against his lips. “Really?”

“Hell, yeah,” he says, kissing you again.

You shake your head a little. “You were…”

Amazing. Unbelievable. Probably the best night I’ve ever had.

“Perfect,” you decide. Because it’s the truth. The word comes out of your mouth before you can filter yourself though, making you pause. Dean does too, but after a beat, he slowly smiles.

“Oh yeah?” he asks.

You lick your lips, and you nod. “Definitely.”

“Well, then,” he says. His hand moves down to squeeze your hip. “You down for a repeat performance?”

You smile. “Only if I get a turn.”

Bracing your hands on his chest, you slide your thigh across his lap so you can straddle his hips. Dean grins and goes along with your idea. He gets a nice healthy handful of your thighs and helps settle you on top of him. But first, he reaches over into your nightstand drawer and finds another condom, ripping it open with his teeth.

Just like you did for him last night, you take the packet, as well as his generous length in your hands. You gently stroke him to full mast, smiling pleased at his groan of pleasure. Then you carefully fit the condom over him.

“You’re so gentle with me,” he teases. 

“Just returning the favor,” you quip, just before you position him at your wet entrance. Slowly, you sink down over his cock.

You both moan at the feeling of him stretching you again, warm and thick and fitting perfectly nestled deep inside. There had been moments last night where he wasn’t all that gentle, actually, but his passion had only spurred yours on more. You know you’ll probably find fingerprint marks on your thighs and ass, but it’s fucking worth it, you think, as you begin to bob a rocking rhythm that serves you both.

Dean arches his back underneath you, his knees coming up to press against your ass.

“Goddamn, baby. Givin’ me quite a show,” he says, in a panting voice that’s deep as sin.

You utter a breathy laugh.

Dean means it though. He’s enjoying the way you brush your hair out of your face, your beautiful tits in his face while you truly let loose for him. He guides you by the stronghold he has on your hips, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh as he ruts up into you, meeting your thrusts.

Your breath quickens, your nails digging into his chest on reflex, and your heart races as that delicious pleasure builds. But when Dean snakes a hand between you and further parts your folds to massage tight circles over your clit, your vision flashes white. You utter a scream of pleasure on his name, your inner walls choking him tight as you throb around his cock. His release hits him like a goddamn freight train.

“Aw, fuck,” he grunts.

He slams your hips down hard, making your thighs slap against his. A ragged groan escapes him in a rush. His hands move to your thighs just under your ass, where his fingers press into flesh hard enough to leave forensic ID, giving him leverage to bury himself deep into your pussy as he spills a hot release into the condom.

Goddamn…

He can almost imagine that he’s coming free inside you, that you’re milking his cock for every drop, until there’s nothing left for him to give.

The thought surprises him. It almost takes him out of the moment, honestly. That’s not a thought he’s ever had before—not with a woman he barely knows (which is most of his hookups, if he’s honest).

In that delicious, fractious moment just after it hits, it’s like those few seconds are suspended in zero gravity. Your arms are shaking, and your forced to collapse against his chest. Dean welcomes you there for a little while, letting you come down while he smooths a hand over your hair.

Though he can't help the urge to let his big hand drift down over your dewy skin, down the gentle slope of your back and over the curve of your generous ass. He gives one cheek a teasing slap. The sound echoes in the room.

"Goddamn perfect ass," he says roughly, smirking at your squeal. You end up grinning hard against his neck.

"'S that my new nickname?" you quip.

He chuckles deeply, moving you along with his chest. "Hell, sweetheart, if you want it to be."

Eventually, you lean back to give him a smile and one last kiss before you pull away from him. You slip off his lap to find your robe, at least. You definitely need a shower.

“So I’m thinking, after we get cleaned up, I could make us some breakfast,” you offer. “Or if you want, maybe we could go somewhere. I know a little diner down the block.”

“I like the sound of food,” Dean agrees with a smile. Ge reaches over for his phone on the nightstand, to check the time. His eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”

He has to get his ass over to the Fire Academy. He has class in barely twenty minutes.

He tears out of bed and nearly trips on the coiled sheets.

“Sorry. Gonna need to take a raincheck,” he says. He hurries to find his clothes strewn all over your bedside floor.

“What’s the matter?” you ask with wide eyes. You cross your arms under your breasts, but it’s more like you’re hugging yourself over your robe. You watch him tear through your bedroom in a tempest of movement.

Dean spares you a glance, but not much else as he yanks up his slacks and belt and dress shirt.

“Gotta get to class,” he confesses. Thank God he has his uniform in the trunk of his car for exactly these kinds of emergencies. He grabs his phone, wallet, and keys, and quickly kisses you on the cheek. He gazes down at you apologetically. “Sorry I gotta cut and run, sweetheart, but it’s been fun.”

Your smile barely reaches your eyes. He’s pressed for time, but he still notices.

He slows himself down and cups your cheek. “Hey.”

He gets your pretty eyes looking up at him, and he gives you a real kiss, nice and slow. He cradles your cheek and brushes his thumb across your skin.

“Thanks,” he says. His now familiar grin manages to make you smile. “And I mean that.”

You shake your head at him. “Okay go, Mr. Future Fireman. Be safe out there, okay?”

He gives you a playful salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

You can’t help but laugh. This guy’s too much. But you don't think you've had this much fun having sex in...

All right, let's not put a timeframe on it.

You watch him leave your apartment, even though you have a sinking feeling in your chest. You knew this was just a hookup for him, for both of you. Part of you just couldn’t help hoping that it could’ve led to something more. 

Dean means to call you.

He really does.

After that truly awesome, you shook me all night long, kind of a night, he thinks about you more than he’d like to admit over the next few weeks. However, he finds himself locked into his training. He’s so close to finishing strong and earning his badge, he just can’t afford any more distractions.

Still, he should’ve known that Sam would find out—either through Eileen, or through you directly. He also should’ve expected the way his brother let him have it.

“And you didn’t even fucking call her. See? This is why I don’t set you up with any of my friends anymore,” Sam bitches at him from his side of the small two-seater dinner table. They still share an apartment, though in just a month and a half, Sam’s going to be moving out. He and Eileen already found a house that they’re moving into after the wedding.

“Look, I was going to call her, man. They’ve just been bustin’ my ass at the Academy!” Dean argues.

“Bullshit.” Sam levels him with the same finger that holds his beer.

Dean’s brows raise, high and annoyed. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I’m calling bullshit. Because if you really liked her, respected her, and respected me, you would’ve made the time,” Sam says.

That falls heavy between the brothers for a moment while they eat their pizza.

“Look, I know her. She doesn’t do hookups that often, which means…she probably liked you,” Sam adds. “And honestly, when are you going to give it a real try with someone? You can only visit that free clinic so many times.”

Dean shoots him a glare. He’s had a clean bill of health from said clinic for six months straight.

“Jesus Christ. Enough, all right?” he grouses. “What’re you, Mom?”

“I’m just saying,” Sam says, lowering his crust to the plate. He levels his brother with a more earnest look, lightening up from his anger. “Look, if it’s about what happened to Dad—”

“What, you mean the way he drank himself to death after Mom died?” Dean says. His voice cuts through whatever softball glove Sam is trying to handle him with. “You think that’s the kind of thing I should be looking for in my life?”

“Oh, and what, do you think I’m making a mistake marrying Eileen?” Sam counters.

Dean sighs, shaking his head. “Damn it, don’t put words in my mouth. That’s not what I’m saying, it’s just…I don’t know. Maybe that kind of life—the house, the wife, the 2.5 kids and the dog. Maybe that’s just not my life, okay?”

Sam gives him a long look. He lets go of a deep breath, and he shrugs.

“Okay,” he says. “If you think hooking up night after night for the rest of your life is going to make you happy, then fine.”

Dean nods, glad that they can put an end to this little After School Special.

“Okay.”

Still, he can’t finish his third slice of pizza. He keeps picturing your face when he left you that morning. No matter how you tried to hide it, he still saw the tinge of disappointment in your eyes. It brews something uncomfortable in his stomach, and a sting in his chest.

You’re eating lunch alone in your classroom, finally on your break, when an unfamiliar number flashes across your phone screen. You look down at it in confusion, but with all the caterers and florists and things you’ve helped Eileen with on the wedding, you figure it could be important. You pick up the call and greet whoever’s on the line.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”

You drop your ham and cheese on your keyboard, gaping in surprise.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he chuckles slightly. “Sorry, I know it’s been a minute.”

You frown, because you’re confused more than anything.

“Yeah, like almost a month,” you reply. You put the call on speaker so you can grab up your sandwich and quickly brush off the crumbs from your keyboard. You struggle to say something cool, clever, sexy even. “I’m okay. Just, um…what’s up?”

Smooth, real smooth. You cover your eyes with your hand.

“Nothin’, I was just thinking of that night,” he says. “I had a good time.”

Your frown deepens, despite the beginning of a blush warming your cheeks. If he’s calling you just for another hookup…

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.”

And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition.

“I could make us some burgers, toss in a couple of beers and a movie night,” he adds.

That part throws you though, you’re not going to lie. What, is this a Netflix and chill situation—with a side of fries?

You consider it. You weigh pros and cons at a frightening speed in your mind, almost like Sherlock Holmes contemplating the layout of a dead body and deducing within moments that his wife committed the murder, despite the man no longer wearing a ring.

You want to let yourself be bold and spontaneous and carefree...but it's just not who you are at your core. You're a planner, a cautious person who looks three ways before crossing the street. Letting Dean take you home that night was certainly one of the most spontaneous, wild things you've done since your friends took you out to a strip club after you aced your final round of exams back in college.

(Sam hadn't been there that night, but he did get an embarrassing drunken text from you at 3:00 a.m., along with a few shame-ridden pictures fueled by questionable substances. Yes, he still had the evidence.)

You just don't know if it's smart to let yourself hookup with Dean again. Mostly because you know your heart has the tendency to get attached, no matter how much you warn it not to.

“You know, Dean, I’m pretty busy with my job right now. I just started here a couple of months ago, and I think I just need to focus on that right now,” you say. Part of it isn’t a lie, even though your soft heart is stinging.

“Ah, okay. Yeah. I get that,” he says. You hear his disappointment too. “But I just need to say, I really am sorry for not calling you sooner.”

Your lips tug at a smile. “It’s okay, Dean. Look, you’re Sam’s brother. I just feel like, maybe it’s better if you and I stay friends.”

“Friends, huh?” Dean says wryly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t have three rounds of steamy hot sex with any of my friends.”

Your blush comes swiftly again, burning in your cheeks.

“Be that as it may,” you say, “I just don’t want to do anything that will distract from Sam and Eileen’s wedding.”

“Oh, I’m a distraction, huh?” Dean says flirtatiously. 

You begin to smile in earnest. “I think you know damn well what you are, Dean Winchester.”

His deep chuckle practically resonates through the phone and into your chest, going straight down to your pussy. You clench on nothing just at the sound of his voice, making you cross your legs under your skirt. Dear God…

How are you supposed to be even remotely normal around this man now? 

But for Sam’s sake (and your own), you’ll have to try. 

Two months later, Dean has taken Sam’s dating advice to heart. A week or so after you turned him down, he ran into Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, while he was at the grocery store buying beer and Twizzlers. She was a smart, sharp, sexy brunette. A yoga instructor, he soon found out. So he took a chance on asking her out. They’ve been going slow and steady ever since. 

Dean hasn’t heard from you since the rehearsal dinner, but he sees you again at his brother’s wedding. All the bridesmaids are wearing long, royal blue dresses that drape off the shoulders and hug the bust and waist, flaring gently at the skirt. Lisa and Jo wear it beautifully, their hair perfectly smooth and coiled. 

But when you step out into the hall outside the church ballroom to join them, Dean actually pauses in what he’s saying to his brother. He nearly double takes when you enter his line of vision—mostly because he hasn’t seen you in a dress since that night. You were sexy as hell then, a lady in red. 

Today, you’re absolutely stunning. 

After greeting Sam with a warm hug, you turn to him with a nervous kind of smile. “H-Hey, Dean.”

With that, he snaps out of it. Dean smiles, eyes crinkling, and goes over to give you a hug as well.

“Good to see you,” he says, trying not to inhale too much of your nice perfume. It’s even in your hair.

“You too,” you reply. Your smile is a little brighter, more genuine. Though there’s something behind your eyes that he can’t quite place.

What he doesn’t notice is the way Lisa is watching you and her boyfriend, a hint of suspicion on her face.

You do though. You pull away from Dean and assemble into a line with Lisa at the helm. As the Best Man, Dean stands with her, followed by Jo and Brady, another one of Sam’s buddies. You and Benny bring up the rear. Benny’s dad used to work with John, Sam and Dean’s father, on the police force.

According to Sam, John Winchester worked a beat for twenty-six years before his liver finally gave out on him. Dean almost went to the Police Academy to follow in his dad’s footsteps, but Benny, already working his way up to Lieutenant, suggested Dean become a smoke eater instead. The suggestion stuck.

Benny Lafitte is slightly shorter than Dean, but just as broad-shouldered, his auburn beard neatly trimmed. Even though you might’ve thought he was rough around the edges at first, his kind blue eyes spoke the contrary. He offers you his arm like a gentleman.

“Well aren't I lucky, getting the prettiest girl on my arm,” he says, with a charming smile.

You smile, and even begin to blush at the way he subtly takes note of you from head to toe.

“Well, thank you. You’re very handsome yourself. Although, hold on.” You slip your arm out of his for a moment so that you can fix his tie. It’s slightly crooked. You make sure that it lays flat under his collar, smoothing down all the edges and picking off any small dust particles that landed on his collar. Benny watches you with an indulgent smile.

“Am I good?” he asks.

“Very,” you reply.

“I appreciate it, thank you,” he says. You don’t know if he means to sound flirtatious, but his voice is a deep drawl that washes over you pleasantly. You find yourself blushing down to your neck as you slip your arm back around his.

You also don’t notice how Dean glances at you and Benny over his shoulder.

As much as you love Sam and Eileen, it’s difficult for you to keep your mind from spinning into fractals as the ceremony goes on. You can’t help but glance at Dean. He stands there behind Sam dutifully, but you see brotherly pride in Dean’s eyes, in his smile. It makes you smile too. You too love Sam like a brother, and it brings a well of happy tears to your eyes to watch him have his moment with his new wife.

It just also reminds you of what you need to do.

After the ceremony ends and the bridal party files out behind the bride and groom, you excuse yourself from Benny apologetically. You wait until Lisa and Jo go off to take pictures with Sam and Eileen, and you grab Dean’s wrist, pulling him aside.

“I need to talk to you,” you whisper.

Dean gives you a confused look. “They’re gonna need us for the pictures.”

“I know, but this is important,” you say. Your voice trembles with nerves, and so do your hands. Dean notices, frowning in concern. He grasps your arm to try and steady you.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Just come with me,” you implore him. You take his hand and lead him into the women’s dressing room attached to the church sanctuary you all just came out of.

Dean raises his brows at the mess you and the rest of the bridesmaids have made of the room—pantyhose and makeup and clothing litter the floor and most available surfaces, while leftover breakfast sandwiches, grapes, salami, and cheddar cheese cubes are splayed out across one of the vanity counters. Dean is tempted to steal a morsel, but he focuses on you first.

You close and lock the door, which makes his brows raise high again. You know he has a girlfriend now, right?

“Uhh, look, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but—”

You heave a sigh. Again, you take his hand and guide him to sit with you at the vanity. The old stools squeak, the overhead lights a bit too bright. This is not where you want to do this, but you can’t hold it in anymore.

“Dean, I’m pregnant,” you confess.

He freezes. His breath stills in his lungs. His eyes slowly widen as the words click in his brain.

“What?” His head tilts, as if he didn’t hear you right.

You squeeze his hand; to ground him or yourself, you’re not sure.

“I’m about two months pregnant. I found out last week.”

Dean swipes his free hand over his mouth while he tries to compute. He squeezes your hand, tighter and tighter. He points to himself.

“It’s…it’s me? It’s mine?”

You give him a weary smile. “You’re the only one I’ve been with in the last few months. It could only be you.”

Oh fuck. The man’s face begins to pale as he descends into shock.

“But we…I used a condom,” he reasons. “All the—all the times!”

You bite your lip. If you weren’t freaking the fuck out yourself, you’d probably be laughing right now. Granted, you’ve had a bit more time to process this than Dean.

“I know, I was there,” you reply, releasing yet another sigh. “One of them probably broke. That’s all I can think of… Honestly, Dean, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I just didn’t want to disrupt the ceremony or cause a scene before the wedding. But now you know.”

Dean falls silent then. He hasn’t let go of your hand, which you think is a decent sign. He’s likely forgotten that you’re still holding it as he stares off into the middle distance for several seconds.

Eventually, he shakes his head and returns his gaze to yours. He looks uncertain, his handsome face the true epitome of holy fucking shit.

You know the feeling.

But he asks the most important question.

“What do you want to do?”

Briefly you close your eyes as you take a breath. You squeeze his hand before you let go of him.

“I’ve thought about this a lot, and…I’m keeping the baby,” you tell him, though you raise placating hands. “I don’t want money, or anything like that. I just wanted you to know that it’s yours. How much you want to be in his or—or her life, that’s up to you.”

Dean takes a beat before he answers, but you don’t have to wait so long holding your breath.

“Okay. Okay, yeah. I’ll help you. Don’t worry,” he says.

And just like that, all the time you spent giving yourself pep talks for this, telling yourself that you’ll need to be strong no matter what he says, all of it crumbles into relief. Your lower lip trembles, and your body shudders as you break into tears. You try covering your face to hide your shame, but Dean grasps your shoulders.

“Hey, hey. It’s all right,” he says. He tentatively pulls you into a hug. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You nod into his dress shirt, probably staining him with your running makeup.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “Thank you so much.”

He holds you a bit tighter in response.

You and Dean agree to keep this to yourselves for now, at least until Sam and Eileen get back from their honeymoon. It’s difficult to explain why your eyes are all red and your makeup is smudged, but you promise Sam that you’ll tell him later. You know it’s pointless to lie to him though. As a lawyer, his bullshit meter is far too high.

However, you also know that he’s half guessed it by the time you all make it to the reception. When you and Dean came out of that dressing room to join the bridal party for pictures, you're sure that you looked emotionally wrecked. Dean had looked pale as a sheet, his body coiled and tense, as willing himself to seem normal. Sam had clocked both of you with a raise of his brow, but he didn't say anything then, especially after you gave him a pleading look.

While Eileen greets her family without him for a moment, Sam pulls you aside. He notes your glass of diet coke, in a moderate sea of guests drinking champagne and cocktails.

“Are you okay?” he asks knowingly.

Tears well up in your eyes again. You don’t know if it’s your damn hormones going haywire, or just the way Sam asks you, with the love of a friend in his eyes. He squeezes your shoulder gently, prompting you with your name.

“Yeah, I think I will be,” you say.

"Is it the same reason you're not drinking?" he asks. "You and Dean earlier..."

You hesitantly confirm with a nod. Sam blows out a harsh sigh, raising folded hands to his mouth as he processes. You begin to look around on reflex, trying to see if anyone's watching you and Sam have this conversation in the middle of the reception. To your relief, everyone around you seems occupied with drinks, hours d'oeuvres and conversation.

“What did he say when you told him?” Sam asks. His gaze is firmer. You get the idea that if he doesn’t like what you tell him, then he’s about to go grab his brother by the ear himself.

You grab his wrist and give a placating squeeze. “He said he's going to help me, be there for me.”

“Damn right. So will I,” Sam nods, and glances back at Eileen, his new bride, with a smile. “We both will.”

“I know,” you nod as well. “I’ll be okay, Sam. You don’t have to worry so much. Just enjoy your wedding day. It’s the only one you’re gonna get. Well, you know…hopefully.”

You tease him with a wink.

Sam laughs, cupping your cheek. He kisses your other cheek.

“I love you, you know that right?” he says.

You give him a trembling smile through your tears.

Meanwhile, Dean has a beautiful woman in his arms. He turns Lisa on the dancefloor, trying not to trip on his own dress shoes, all the while knowing that his brain isn’t here in his body. It’s across the ballroom, watching you talk to Sam. Dean can tell that he knows, just in his Big Bird body language. He’d also recognize that accompanying Bitch Face anywhere.

“Dean, what’s wrong,” Lisa asks him, and not for the first time. She’s getting annoyed, he can tell. She finally looks over to where he keeps glancing, and she notices you with a frown. It’s also not the first time she’s caught him staring at you tonight.

“What was that earlier in the dressing room? She didn’t really get food poisoning, did she?” she asks pointedly. “What, did you two used to date or something?”

He gives a wan smile. “Yeah, kinda. We…had a thing once.”

“What kind of thing?”

Dean closes his eyes and tries to keep himself calm. He’s pretty sure if he tells her the truth right now, she’s going to find the nearest cocktail and dump it over his head.

But shit, here it goes.

“Well…”

After a long day at school, you drive over to Dean’s apartment. You’d agreed to meet there and wait for him to get off his shift at Firehouse 83, where he just started as a full-fledged firefighter on probation. When he gets home, he’s supposed to go with you to an important appointment with your OB-GYN. 

You were hoping he’d already be done with work by the time you got to his place, but Lisa's there to open the door for you. Apparently, he’d already given her a key.

Moving kind of fast, but okay, you think. A second later, you could’ve rolled your eyes at yourself. Pot, kettle, me. Got it.

Lisa greets you with a “polite” smile at best, but she does offer you water at least. You really can’t blame her for not liking you though. She found out her boyfriend got another woman pregnant right before he started dating her. Really, she has more balls than you for staying with him. You wouldn't put it past Dean to somehow have smooth-talked her into giving him a chance.

Or she really loves him. The thought sobers you as you lower yourself down to the couch beside her. Both of you sit there in silence for a moment, trying to figure out something to talk about.

“So, you’re what, six months pregnant?” she asks.

You correct her in thinly veiled annoyance. “Three months, actually.”

“Oh, wow. I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t know why I thought it was six.”

You have a feeling her awkward chuckle is fake, however. She knew good and damn well that you’re not six months pregnant. In her eyes, you must be the size of a parade float. 

“If you want, I can recommend a holistic diet to help you get your body back after the baby’s born,” Lisa offers. “No pills, no chemicals. Just good clean weight loss.”

You feign interest. Honestly, you’d like her to cram that offer right up her hooch.

“I can even give you a discount if you want to try out yoga,” she says. “It’s low impact, but you burn plenty of calories. I have a beginner’s class, not too strenuous. Even my least flexible clients manage to do the poses.”

Is that why Dean likes you? Because you’re bendy? Bet if I sat on you, you’d pop like a fucking balloon.

You hide all of these thoughts behind a “polite” smile of your own.

“That’s really nice of you, thanks,” you reply. It’s non-committal enough, but hopefully it’ll get her off your back.

No such luck.

“You know, maintaining a healthy diet is really important for the baby’s health too,” Lisa adds. “It’s not just about avoided raw fish and dairy products. Oh, and processed food is obviously a no-go. Like, I’m sure you haven’t been hitting Taco Bell and all that stuff, right?”

As a matter of fact, you’ve been eating clean since long before you got pregnant. Not that it’s any business of hers whether you enjoy the occasional quesadilla or not.

Your temper snaps at its leash. You open your mouth to reply, when the front door unlocks and opens to Dean, stepping in through the threshold.

Thank God, you and Lisa both think. She gets up quicker from the couch than you, greeting her boyfriend with a kiss. You avert your gaze while you begin to get up yourself.

Dean reaches out to help you, grasping your arm in support. You shoot him a smile.

“I can still get up by myself,” you snip.

“Yeah, all right. Just in case,” he says with a smile. “Ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah. Let’s rock and roll,” you say, trying to hide your worsening mood. You’re exhausted, and irritated, and probably more than a little hangry. Except now, the idea of food just has you feeling guilty for even being hungry.

“Bye, hun. Hope you have a good appointment,” Lisa says, giving your shoulder a pat. You give her the most genuine smile you can muster as you thank her. It's possibly that she's one of those women who don't realize when they're being cunty, but you find it highly unlikely. She's too smart for that.

You follow Dean out the door and over to his car, big and black and sleek as you remember. You settle into the passenger seat with your arms crossed in silence. Dean switches the cassette to one of his favorite Led Zeppelin albums, though he notices your grumpy face.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

You give him some side-eye, but you’re reluctant to say anything. You just shake your head. As irritated as you are, you don’t want to be the friend who badmouths his girlfriend.

God, are we even friends? You wonder. Or am I just his knocked-up baby momma?

And again, you realize that this whole situation is probably hard for Lisa. You just don’t know if she’s jealous, or if she just…doesn’t like you.

“I’m okay,” you tell Dean.

He raises a skeptical brow. Looks like Sam isn’t the only one with a finely tuned bullshit meter.

“All right, how about this,” Dean says. “Let’s grab some burgers after this, huh? From your favorite spot. Shake Shack, right? Side of fries, frozen yogurt. I think I’ll get chocolate this time… Hmm, I doubt Lisa will want anything. She’s gone on an all-vegan kick or something.”

For one shining moment, you were happy and touched at his consideration. But now your body stills in your seat when you remember Lisa’s words. Tears well up in your eyes with a hot sting, and a sob escapes your throat.

Dean is cut off from thinking about getting extra bacon on his burger. He looks over at you in alarm. “H-Hey, what’s the matter?”

You scoff at him through your tears. “Are you kidding me? I can’t eat burgers anymore, Dean. I was already fucking fat. Now it’s just gonna get ridiculous.”

“What?” Dean’s brows knit together in confusion, along with his deepening frown. It gets worse as he tries to watch the road ahead, while at the same time, watching you continue to crumble.

“And after the birth, I’m just going to be an even fatter slob who can’t take care of her baby,” you sniffle and weep, trying in vain to wipe your eyes and get ahold of yourself.

Dean grits his teeth, his jaw twitching. Fuck it.

He turns the steering wheel sharp enough to startle a gasp out of you.

“Dean!”

He pulls the car over onto the side of the road, ignoring the honking SUV behind him. He shifts into Park and shuts off the radio—a big red flag, in your opinion. He’s upset too, and fucking serious, more so than you’ve ever seen him. You stare back at him with wide eyes.

“I’ve never once heard you say that you’re fat,” he says.

You blink at that, but eventually, you’re able to get your tongue to unstick from the roof of your mouth. You wipe the remnants of tears from your cheeks. Your face is already hot from your upset, now tinged with embarrassment.

“You haven’t known me very long,” you say quietly.

It doesn’t help. Dean’s jaw ticks again.

“Well, I’ve never thought it. Not even once,” he says. His jade green eyes are firmly set on yours, and he gestures between you and him with a pointed finger. “The reason you and I are here right now, is because the minute I saw you, I wanted you.”

One corner of his lips kicks upwards. “And that night, you didn’t disappoint.”

Your mouth falls open slightly. You don’t know how to respond, but you do know that a full blush is warming your face and neck. His words have power, and unbidden, they bloom a similar warmth between your legs. You swallow a bit nervously as you bite your bottom lip.

Dean glances down at your mouth when you do. He can remember what your pretty mouth did for him that night. Oh, he remembers all too well. He even had the shade of your lipstick streaked across his skin until he showered up at the firehouse.

He locks that all away when shifts the car back into Drive. If you’re going to make it to this appointment on time, he needs to get going.

And you both have to leave whatever that was right here by the side of the road.

AN: Woo! 😮‍💨 Yep, this is only Part 1, friends. Lisa is a bit different in this. My take was that without Ben in her life, she might be less mature and a bit more catty. As we get into Part 2 I'll leave it up to you to decide why she decides to stay with Dean, and perhaps more importantly, where the reader and Dean can go from here as co-parents. 🤔

If you enjoyed Part 1, please let me know!~

Next Time in Part 2:

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

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

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

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

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

He leans over and kisses you. It’s a firm meeting of his lips to yours, and achingly familiar.

⋆˙⟡ Read Part 2 on Patreon now!

⋆˙⟡ Coming to Tumblr/Ao3 on 3/23

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Dean Winchester Tag List (Part 1):

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

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl @kaleldobrev

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@waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @my-stories-vault @kayleighwinchester

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

@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005

[nerdylibertarian928]

Hot take: You shouldn't get in trouble for having bad grades if you're doing your assignments and participating in class but are struggling in school even though you are trying your best. However, if your bad grades are caused by you being on your phone in class instead of paying attention in class and not doing your assignments, you 100% deserve to get in trouble for having bad grades.

[flowerakatsuka]

some doodles based on the gender thoughts i've been having about kuroba the past few days, mostly on how their appearance changed between middle school and their final year of high school. i also thought it'd be funny if kuroba didn't get recognized by classmates while they were helping at the flower shop back then, ( foreshadowing ig. )

[newsies-united]

btw if someone tells you their name. you don't need to ask super specific questions if the name isn't traditional. by the way. just in case you were wondering.