#i love them so much guys you don't understand

[frostfires-blog]

While everyone—myself included—is raving about the frog scene... I absolutely adored the door scene at the end...

She sees him for him and that's why I love them so much. I loved the introspection we got from Maomao about her not understanding and picking up on other people's emotions well... But in this moment, she said what he needed to hear most... And then, in true JinMao fashion, this serious and impactful moment of sincerity was interrupted by tomfoolery...

You guys don't understand how much I love the duality of JinMao... They have such a complex and nuanced dynamic—but at the same time, they're so silly...

[jesuis-snips]

It is killing me that friendship is not appreciated in fiction nowadays. Not appreciated by fandom would be a better statement, I guess. Does it always have to be a romantic relationship between the characters? Does it always have to be a romantic relationship when the characters love and care about each other? When they feel regret about what happened between them or when they miss each other, does it have to be a love story? When they parted ways because of different ideals or some other thing, does their story has to be a forbidden love trope? When they are both female or both male, can they not be friends?

Don't you guys have a friend that you love so much in your lives? Or a friend you don't see anymore bc things didn't go well? A friend who you wish would be there with you? A friend who you would do anything for? I understand fanon, but is removing friendship from the face of earth actually worth it? Love can be in a lot of forms, be that familial love, romantic love, or friendship. Can we please not forget that. Can we appreciate the bond between two people as intended for once? Can we see them as good friends who love each other once again? I'm just so tired of this interpretation of characters as lovers, I truly am. And I feel sorry for people who cannot appreciate friendship as it is. The characters don't have to be lovers for a story to be a more compelling story, to be a better story to be a more dramatic and impactful story. It truly doesn't. And I hope that people realize that soon.

forcing every character into romance or found family ruins character discussion imo

[spidybaby]

Guess the price

Summary: You do the trend where you lie about the price of your products to your boyfriend.

Warnings: cursing

Barca Boys x Influencer!reader

Pedri

"Hola a todos!" You say to the camera in the bathroom. "I'm going to prank Pedri today, I will be doing a "sephora haul" but I'm exaggerating the prices of the things I got."

You grab the camera and cut the recording. You moved to your setup corner. Pedri knew it was your corner, so he tried to keep it free of mess.

"Pepi, please pass me the black and white bags on the bed?" You ask him. He nods, leaving his phone on the bed and walking over to you with the two bags of sephora makeup products. "Gracias." You smile.

"I'll be quiet over here." He says, kissing your cheek. "You look amazing, by the way."

"Thank you, guapo." You smile, grabbing his hand and squishing it. "I'll try to be quick so we can leave."

He nods, going back to the bed to check his phone. You place a mirror on the back wall behind you where you can see pedri on it. Exactly what you need to for the video.

You hit record once again. "Hi, let's unbox this bags I got at sephora." You smile. "As I said in my last video, I asked you guys for recommendations on makeup products that I can integrate on my routine." You say, taking the products off the bags.

Pedri is listening, he loves listening to you talk. Does he understand? No, but he hears how happy you sound and that's enough.

"I have this hourglass makeup brushes." You show them to the camera. "This one is their ambient soft glow foundation brush, this brush retails for 130 euros and -"

Pedri turns his head to where you are, 130 euros for a brush? He can get you a brush at the store for 1 euro.

"Before using the brush, I'm using this primer from ELF." You show the product. "I know it's super viral, and only for 76 euros."

He puts his phone down. "Qué mierda?" He whispers.

You can't help but smirk. Your eyes watch his reaction in the mirror from your phone screen. "So while I apply this, let me tell you about this foundation I got." You say, showing the foundation. "This is the ambient soft glow foundation, this was on sale for only 250 euros." You smile.

He covers his face with his hands. "No fucking way." He says loud enough for the camera to capture it. "250 fucking euros."

You smile, trying not to laugh. You place it on your face and take a few seconds of you using the brush.

You pause the video, grabbing other products. "Amor," He calls, you press record. "Not to be trying to mind your things, but isn't 250 a little too much?" He asks.

"What, no babe." You smile. "That's just normal makeup pricing." You say, noticing how he shakes his head no. "For concealer I have the Armani Beauty concealer, this retails for 199 on sale." You smile.

"No, Y/n." Pedri says. "You spent more than 600 euros in four products."

"Bebé, shhhh" You shush him. "Now guys, this concealer brush from rare beauty retails for 9-"

"A brush?" He scuffs. "Joder."

You can't help the scuff. "Shh, just a few steps more."

"Mamita querida." He sighs.

"This powder is the One Size powder, I love it so much, and the price is honestly a deal."

"Please don't." He says, covering his face again.

"Since sephora is about to have a sale, you can get this for only 379.99."

"Almost 400 euros." He says in a high-pitched voice. "How is that a deal?"

"Because it's 20 percent off." You say. "And this blush, Patrick Ta."

"Let me guess." He interrupts. "100 bucks?"

"Oh, Pedri." You laugh. "Don't be silly, it's 475." You smile.

"Stop, don't touch that," He yells. "We are taking this back."

You hold your laugh. "Pepi, this was final sale." You say. "Now this contou-"

"Noup," He says, grabbing the product out of your hands. "Videos over." He says, touching the screen, trying to pause it.

"Pedri." You say, taking it from him. You can't help but laugh. "It's a prank, amor. This stuff is not that expensive."

"Pero-" He says. "What?"

You can't help but laugh even harder at his confused face. "Guys, this is why we need to tell our boyfriends about makeup prices." You say, talking to the camera.

"Y/n, wait." Pedri says, reading the receipt. "Why is this brush 65 euros?" He asks, holding the brush.

You look at his and then at the camera. "Maybe they don't need to know about the prices."

"And who's is path and why his eyeshits more than 100?"

"Anyways, love you all." You say, cutting the video. "Pedri, give me that." You say, taking the receipt away. "Your t-shirt costs 400 euros, so cut it."

He opens his mouth. "I'll wait for you downstairs, my love." He smiles. "Take your time."

"That's what I thought." You say, smiling.

Gavi

"Hi guys, today my boyfriend is forcefully doing my makeup." You say, smiling at him.

"I don't know what I'm doing." He says.

"So, this is my routine." You say, giving him a paper with the order or the products. "Also, he's going to try to guess the price of the products."

He looks at the things with curiosity. "Where do I start?" He asks, eyebrow lifted. "How do I know if I'm doing great?"

"You'll do fine, Pabs." You peck him. "The products are in line in the same order as in the paper. The brushes are next to the products that they need to be used for."

He nods, checking the foundation. "Okay, this is the found-" He tries to read the name. "Who's Bobbi Brown?"

"The owner of the brand, love." You smile "how much do you think this costs?"

He tries to apply the foundation as he sees you do it. "Maybe 10 euros?" He asks, concentrating on the blending. "15?"

"Noup, 200." You say.

He pauses. "Two hun-"

"You're missing a spot." You say, pointing at tue spot. "Then you can use the egg like thing."

He nods. "Egg." He chuckles. "Vamos, that's fun." You smile.

"You have to guess the price." You remind him.

"For the egg?" He asks, you nod. "Mmm, 5 euros." He smile.

"Noup, 76."

He opens his eyes.

"No me jodas." He says. "This shit?"

"Amor" You chuckle. "Language."

"Joder, why is this so expensive?" He asks.

"It does the work." You nod. "Now after this, we need concealer." You smile.

He nods. "Don't tell me this is 300."

"Pfff, no." You say. "Only 175."

"Me cago en la p-"

"Pabs, why don't you tell the story of you getting the captain armband?" You change the topic.

"Ufff, eso fue increíble." He smiles, moving the Blender in the wrong way. "I only wore that band twice, and honestly, Pedri is the real one for allowing me to do it."

"We love Pedri." You smile.

"My hermano." Gavi chuckles. "Even tho he is a loser, I won last night ping pong game."

You smile. "Now, do some powder."

"Sip." He says, grabbing the powder.

"Tell my chicos what you are using. You smile.

"This is the hourglass powder." He reads the back of the product. "I think she likes it because it's really used." He jokes.

"Well, I need to save some coin because it is a 430 euros powder."

He lifts his eyes from the powder to your eyes. "How much did you just say?"

"But I think I like my loose powder even more." You grab the powder. "This is the YSL loose powder, it's 734 with discount."

"Fuck." He whispers. "What about the pink thingy?"

"Oh, that's cheap." You say, uninterested. "Only 225."

He drops the powder by accident. "Me cago en la -"

"My powder." You say, pretending to be mortified. "Pablo, that was limited edition."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to break."

"That was a thousand euros ." You say, pretending to cry.

"A thousand?" He yells. "You said it was 400."

"I lied." You fake cried. "I just didn't mean to sound so greedy."

You noticed him trying to pick the powder up from the flood. You look at the camera and try to hold your laugh.

"I'll get you a new one." He says, getting up and handing you the pieces of the powder. "Two if that makes you feel better." He pouts.

You kind of feel bad, he was all pouty, and with those big glassy eyes that make your heart go crazy.

"Oh Pabs, don't worry." You grab his face. "It's nothing."

"No, listen, it was me." He says, hugging you. "Let me make it up to you, let's go and get you a new everything."

You look at the camera and then at him, you shrug and smile at him. "Alright." You smile. "I'll grab my purse, wait for me in the car?" You ask.

He nods, happy that he can fix his mistakes. "Bueno." He pecks you, running out of the room.

You wait for him to close the door. "Listen, you and I know that you would do the same." You say to the camera. "Anyways, I'll post this as soon as I go back." You say, throwing the broke packaging of powder on the trash can. "And you are getting a haul, so don't judge me."

"Who's judging you?" Gavi asks.

"Nobody, let's go." You say, stopping the recording and pressing the "drafts" button to save the video. "Nobody, baby."

Ferran

"Vamos!" Ferran says, seating next to you. "Let's play the game."

"Calm down, Fer." You laugh. "You are so winning this."

You can't help but want to laugh at him. He seems so confident, but he didn't even guess what's next for him.

"Want to do the honors?" You ask, pointing at the phone.

"Hola, chicos" He smiles. "I'm the one and only, the shark, the inimaginable hat trick scorer." He says, smiling and posing for the camera.

"And I'm Y/n!" You laugh. "And WE are playing Guess the Price. Where Ferran will try to guess the price on my makeup."

"Easy, I know a lot about makeup." He smiles. "I know my Dior." He praises.

"Is this the best time to tell you I don't wear Dior?"

"Well, if I win I'm getting you some Dior." He smiles. "Let's begin."

You grab the product. "This is a primer, the brand is Gucci." You show him. "Price?"

"Easy, 90 dollars." He says, proud of himself.

You smile. "And your answer is," You sto to make drums sounds. "Incorrect, it's 300."

"For a cream?" He asks. "I get it, it's Gucci."

"What about this one?"

"That's a Chanel thing." He thinks. "And Gucci was 300, maybe 250?"

"Noup, 75." You smile.

He frowns. "No!" He says, taking the bottle out of your hands. "How?"

You look over at the camera, lifting your eyebrows. "What about this?"

He shakes his head. "Never heard of ELF." He looks at the packaging. "30?"

"That's 175." You smirk. "Did you guys see last night game?" You ask the camera. "Ferran scored a hattrick! Oh my gosh! Now this one."

You take the ELF packaging out of his hands, now placing the Too faced one.

"Better than sex?" He asks, looking at it confused. "Nothing is better than sex." He scuffs. "Five, and that's being generous."

"That's a 200 euros mascara."

"Damn, does it spit on it to make it slide easier?" He asks, throwing it back on the counter.

"Ferran!" You say, looking surprised at him. "What is wrong with you?" You laugh.

"What's next? He asks, laughing too. "Is this a thousand euros Blush?"

"No, it's 65." You say, giving him a look. "What? I like my blushes from Hermes!"

He looks over at the camera. "Are you hearing this?" He asks. "Anyways, what's next?"

You grab a lipstick from primark. Placing it on his hand. "Mmm 3 euros?"

"Yes!" You smile, even tho he's not right, you are giving him the satisfaction. "Good job, babe."

"You hear that?" He asks to the phone. "Shark mentality, never give up, eat your greens, meditate and remember you are amazing!"

"We are not done." You call him, watching him getting out of the room.

"I win, now let's go." He smiles. "Drinks on me!"

Your mouth forms an "o," looking at him and back at the camera.

Fermin

"Hello" You whisper. "Fermin is about to come here and watch something on the TV, I want to pull this prank where I talk to you about my skin care and makeup routine, but faking the prices."

You wait for fermin to walk and get comfortable on the sofa. You try your best to set up the camera so you can film his reaction.

"As I promised yesterday, I'm going to be going through my skincare and makeup routine." You explain at the camera.

You grab your moisturizing cream. "This is my favorite cream, it hydrate really well, and it helps with skin smoothening." You show the bottle. "I got this during a trip to Italy, it was around 2 thousand euros, but its worth it."

Fermin can't help but turn his head around. The price you just mentioned was crazy for the small bottle you are holding.

"I also have this night cream, it was a little bit more expensive, but it works wonders." You show the night cream. "It was 3 thousand, and that's with a discount."

Fermin makes a sound, you can describe it as a surprised one. "Are you okay, Fer?" You ask, turning your head.

"Si," He clears his throat. "Continue, sorry."

"So guys, this foundation I told you about on a video." You show a random foundation. "This is liquid magic, and for the price? Can you believe that 750 euros can make you look so smooth and glowy?"

"Seven, what?" He says. "Wow."

You pretend you can't hear him. "And if you want a real deal, this powder from La Praire is on sale with the code D U M B." You spell the letters, trying to hold the laugh. "It will take 50 percent off. You only pay 979 with shipping included."

You can see on the screen how he's now turned all the way. "How is that a deal?" He asks.

"Because it is 50 percent off." You say, sounding obnoxious about it. "The first time I bought it, I paid 135 for the shipping. It comes all the way from Paris."

"For shipping?" He asks again. "Just the shipping?"

"Fer, it's a very expensive brand." He smiles.

"Oh my God." He says, grabbing his head. "You spend how much on a cream you mentioned?"

"Which one?" You ask. "The pink one, the blue one or the green one?"

"You only mentioned the pink and green one." He points out.

"True, the blue one is a very nice one. Use it to fill your pores and to smooth texture, it will cost you some money but you can work it amazingly."

"How much?" He asks, getting up from his place.

"5 thousand." You smile. "But if you use the code S T U P I D, you get a 5% discount."

"S T U-" He tries spelling. "Hey!"

You laugh, mistakingly throwing the blue cream fall on to the floor. You can't help but feel your stomach hurt for so much from the laughs.

"The cream!" He yells, trying to save it.

"Fermin! That cream is on sale at sephora, for fifteen euros." You laugh.

He looks at you confused, then at the cream, then at you, then at the cream again. "So, no expensive cream?"

"Amor, this is a prank!" You say, pointing at the phone that is still recording. "Say hi!"

He looks at you confused, "hi?"

"Anyways, love you, bye bye!"

🏷: @gadriezmannsgirl hi 😋❤️

By the way, some anons asked me if they could be on my tag list, and you can! Let me know if you want!

[dresshistorynerd]

I don't know what motivated you to write out that super detailed response to the Choctaw kindness to the Irish, but I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your dedication to sharing humanitarian acts of kindness. I'm a trans guy in the US american south and I feel so alone and despised, but things like that story give me hope that someone, somewhere, will understand and give compassion. Thank you for sharing humanity.

Thank you very much for this lovely message. I'm really sorry things are looking so bleak for you. I'm not USAmerican, but I've been watching the the situation there spiral into fascism with horror. Things are not looking so good here in Europe either, in general, it's quite a dark moment in history.

I write about history because it gives perspective for times like these. Every time I read about a horrific moment in history, the horrors are not what stay with me but the endless human resilience that lead humans to endure and build something beautiful from the ashes. Human kindness, bravery and resilience - humanity - shines brightest in inhuman times. We have survived so many terrible times and we will survive this as well. One of my best friends is a trans masc German, a proof that even genocide can't erase trans people, so neither will this US administration. Knowing we are not the first people to face such times, nor to survive such times, makes me feel less alone. So maybe I can tell you some stories of trans and queer history in the US, and perhaps that'll make you feel tiny bit less alone.

The period of New World chattel slavery is one of the darkest periods in history, but Black people were able to survive even that and create vibrant cultural expressions from the ashes. People always resisted slavery. There was not a moment, when everyone gave up. In Caribbean, slaves escaped all the time and became Maroons, who found home in the insular communities of the surviving indigenous Taino people of the genocides against them. They formed mixed settlement of indigenous people and escaped slaves, where their languages and traditions were mixed together to create a new culture, that preserved two traditions under threat of annihilation. They resisted constantly the tyrannical colonial powers, waged guerilla warfare against them and assisted in slave rebellions even when the punishments for them were extreme and severe. There were maroons in US as well. They didn't have dense jungle islands where they could hide their settlements in the US South, but they had swamps they used in a similar way. In the swamp settlements the maroons also were joined by indigenous people escaping the genocidal onslaught as well as other outcasts of the colonial society. Together they survived and resisted. In US too the slaves didn't just escape to freedom, they orchestrated numerous slave rebellions from the very beginning to the bitter end.

There were also some white abolitionists too, who did the right thing. John Brown was of course one of them. He believed it was his secret duty as a Christian to wage war against US until slavery was abolished and he gladly died for it. But I want to shout out a trans masc abolitionist, Public Universal Friend. Public Universal Friend has possibly the most wild and interesting story ever. The Friend was a Quaker. Quakers have always been abolitionists, even in England before slavery was banned there. The Friend lived from 1752 to 1819 in New England, dressed mostly masculine, rejected gendered pronouns and used instead The Friend and PUF as pronouns (though some of the Friend's followers referred to the Friend with he/him), became a Quaker cult leader, made the Friend's cult followers to free their slaves and preached about gender equality, universal salvation and abolition of slavery. Basically the Friend was a cult leader for good. Truly chaotic good alignment. I write about the Friend more in my post about some cool historical queer figures.

Another story starts with a pioneering American trans man, Alan L. Hart. He was born in 1890 and presented as a boy from a very young age. His parents and grandparents accepted him as a boy. In school he was forced to present as a girl, but in college he fully presented as a man. He became the first recorded trans man to surgically transition in US in 1917-1918. He was not only pioneering as a trans man, but as a doctor as well. He was instrumental in developing x-ray screening for tuberculosis, which at the time was one of the leading causes of death. His contribution has saved thousands of lives.

He was undoubtedly a trans man (he expressed it to his doctors to gain access to medical transition and in an interview after he was outed once and in all the possible ways he could really), but still couple of decades after his death in 1980s and 90s, trans-exclusionary lesbians "reclaimed" him as a historical lesbian figure. This caused a battle in the Portland queer community. Trans people, who had of course been part of the community forever, did not take such blatant erasure lying down and protested the organizations, who insisted on misgendering Hart and touting him as a "lesbian hero". They were not alone though. After being presented with the historical facts, the Lesbian Avengers joined their trans siblings in the fight. Eventually the organizations, which had kept misgendering him relented, but some trans-exclusionary lesbians still kept bringing doubt to his very clearly expressed gender identity even afterwards.

Lesbian Avengers, a direct action group, has many amazing stories in their history. One of those is told in Weird Little Guy's podcast episode Fire Will Not Consume Us. The podcast is about fascists, and this particular episode tells the story of how KKK waged a war against a rural gay bar kept by a local elderly straight couple, who had lost a child to AIDS. Their gay patrons called the lady their mom. The Lesbian Avengers showed up to stand with their gay brothers against the KKK. They chanted "Fire will not burns us. We'll take it and make it our own." to burning crosses and a KKK preacher telling them they would burn in hell. They had an fire-eating act, during which they chanted that chant, they had started after Hattie Mae Cohens and Brian Mock, a lesbian and a gay man, had been murdered with a Molotov cocktail thrown into their apartment. I really recommend that episode, it's a beautiful story of solidarity and resistance.

The lesson I take from these stories, and history in general, is that survival is resistance and we survive with solidarity. Alone we are outcasts, but together we are strong. I can only imagine how lonely it must be for you right now, but you are not alone. You have never been. Behind you is a long line of trans and queer ancestors, who stood in the same ground before you. Around you are so many facing the same enemy.

[captain-huggy-bear]

Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed at the moment but drabble and prompt requests are still open. Writing Masterlist

You're shoving rolls of socks and various coloured and patterned ties into his roadie bag when he finds you. Ties that he's never seen before, socks that he knows weren't anywhere near his roadie bag. There's a sort of intent, focused look on your face like this has a level of importance that he couldn't possibly understand.

"Baby, what are you doing?" You look up briefly, only enough to see him leaning against the door frame, sweatpants slung low on his hips, hood of his hoodie thrown up over his head. No fucking socks. Like that man has an aversion to them...which is fine, you tell yourself, it's fine in the house, it's fine on a beach, it's not fine in his goddamn shoes when he's wearing a suit.

"Your packing."

"I'm already packed..." He's certain he got everything done, his suit is hanging up ready to go in its dry cleaning bag, his toiletries the only things left to collect in the morning.

"Clay, 1 tie and no socks is not packing." You roll your eyes at him and it's in that moment that he fully grasps that you're annoyed about it, that somehow his singular tie has irritated you. You, who put up with the long weeks away, the late nights, the schedule that interferes with family events and plans.

"Why do I need more than 1 tie?"

"Because variety is the spice of life and if I see one more picture of you in the same grey suit with the same blue tie I am going to burn that tie." You have such a tight grip on the blue tie in question that Clay briefly wonders if you'll burn it anyway, a level of animosity for a piece of clothing he's never seen before.

"Okay, okay, fine...multiple ties, baby, but the socks?" He's closing the gap between you, pocking at the pile of socks you've put in his bag, more than enough, maybe even too many for the 5 game roadie he's going on.

"You need to wear socks with a suit, I swear to God, Clayton" You snatch back a pair of socks he's pulled from the bag, shoving them back into place like he might be undoing all your hard work.

"Why?" He feels a little stupid asking, like a little boy, but he doesn't get it. Plenty of the guys don't wear socks when they wear a suit, they're wearing sneakers most of the time, it's not really a necessity. Just more things to take on a trip when he wanted to take the bare minimum.

"Clay, it's just...you just have to." You don't know how to explain that socks were just something you wore with a suit, that his ankles needed to be covered. Mostly because you felt like you were starting to sound like a Victorian gentleman obsessed with someone's ankles.

"But..." He stops at the way you breathe out a big sigh. He can tell you're trying to not be irrationally irritated or angry, that you're trying to explain and make him understand why it bothers you without being rude about it.

"Clay, do you want to marry me one day?"

"Of course I do, baby." He's reaching for you like the question itself draws him to you, to hold you, to be reassured that you're still there with him. Clay's hands falling to your hips as he rounds the bed, fingers pressing into you to make sure you're not going anywhere.

"Then you need to wear socks with your suits because if I turn up at that aisle and you're not? I'm rescheduling." Your tone is lighter now, more joking and it eases some of the tension in his shoulders as he starts to form a smile. Socks seeming like a small price to pay for you.

"Not running to Tasmania or something?"

"No, rescheduling until you put on some socks." You're joking, but you also mean it. You can't explain why it matters so much that he wears socks with his suits, just that it does...a little detail that feels like it's vital even though in reality it's really not.

"Okay...socks with the suit, got it."

"I'm doing this because I love you."

He sighs heavily even as he's grinning down at you and the way you wrap your arms around his neck, "I love you too, baby."

[the-oh-in-24601]

Not to take from the point of the post (women being allowed to make decisions for themselves in peace), which is completely correct! But I'd like to point out that being with someone you don't feel anything for is also bad *for them*...

This is from personal experience, but staying together when you don't really feel as much for them as they do for you, "just because they never hurt you or anything"... just makes everybody waste their fucking time!

I deeply regret doing that *once*, when I was younger and inexperienced... and I don't even regret it for me because, as I said, he never hurt me and it was only 6 months... but I know I hurt him because *he* had strong feelings

That man cried in public when I broke it off. We wasted each other's time for 6 dumb months. All because I heard when people said "don't, he's such a good boy"... but it made me so uncomfortable to keep it up that I broke things off

Glad I did. Couple years later he's happily married to someone who actually loves him and I'm living my fucking life... but it took many a "why did you break it off? He was a good boy..." and me explaining it wouldn't be fair for people to understand! Many a "he's married now did you know?" and me saying I'm happy for him, like c'mon!

Anyways, I just wanted to say that this practice benefits literally no one and it baffles me that society still insists on it... it's so weird, if you love men so much, shouldn't you wish they got with people that are actually a match? It's not even about "the poor nice guy who did nothing wrong" at this point, just oppressing and blaming women for their independence

The "poor nice guy who did nothing wrong" is a strawman. It's an excuse, a reasoning, misogynists use to criticize women who make decisions for themselves and won't be bullied into shit... if that guy is actually nice, he'll likely be sad things are over, yeah, that's understandable... but he'll also respect you and your decision

shaking women by their shoulders with all my strength, screaming YOU DONT NEED TO GET PERMISSION TO BREAK UP WITH SOMEONE!!!!

[cubur]

I’ve been seeing your art all around the internet and trying to find your page where you are active. I finally found your tumblr and was so happy until I saw the posts about your pet and how bad you are feeling. I just wanted to let you know that your art truly brings light into my life and even if you stop drawing it has forever impacted me. I wanted to say thank you and I hope you will return one day.

Hello！ Well, I probably haven't been around for 3 months. I've had the chance to read all the messages now… And I realize i've caused a lot of you to worry, so even though i can't answer each of you individually at this point, i thought you at least had the right to know what was going on.

Ok, when I lost my cat about 3 months ago, I lost many things along with it. I don't know if you guys noticed, but i'm not as active as i used to be. In fact, I can't even remember the last time i drew narusasu …it feels like i've forgotten how to. Honestly I never imagined this day would come… I mean… I don't know how this sounds to you guys, but i won't be able to be active on this account anymore even if i wanted to. I've been trying to hide it, but i've been having arguments with my family about my fan arts for the past year or so. No, not in the way you might think. It's just… maybe many of you won't understand, but my country is going through serious financial struggles, and unfortunately i no longer have the time to create art for free like i used to.

For over ten years, I've been making a living by drawing at my desk, creating things online, whether good or bad. But at some point it stopped making me happy, yes, and that's when I started drawing fanart. Believe or not, the sense of warmth and belonging I felt here was something i had never experienced anywhere else. Yes ofcourse I love Naruto and Sasuke, but the warmth I felt and the feeling of knowing that i wasn't alone was what truly brought me here. Some of you made me laugh, some of you made me cry, and some of you even made me really angry at times. But throughout my life, I've met very few people whom i truly felt close to, and one of them was someone i met thanks to this community. That's why I want to sincerely thank you all！If I've been fighting all this time, it's because I don't want to leave you all. But after a certain point, trying to manage both of my accounts actively caused me to spend extra energy mentally and even physically. So, in the end, I burned out.

Recently, every time I drew sns, i ended up arguing with my family, and it just made me feel like this was the place i should give up. Unfortunately, people can change when it comes to money and that's why I had to take a break.

If you ask where I am now and what I'm doing, i'm still doing one of the things i love, i mean drawing, but active and working on my other account, which is completely different from this one. I'm not planning on closing my account here yet, still have unfinished commissions, and just want to leave the door ajar in case i still have a chance to come back in the future. But still, if you were to ask my honest opinion, I would say don't get your hopes up too much…

No matter what, take care of yourselves guys！ Thank you！❤️

[janana-banana-bread]

"You understand... don't you?"

Solivan Brugsmania x GN!Reader

TW: Sol, stalking (from both Sol and reader), mentions of torture if you squint, somnophilia mentioned, Sol admits to jerking off at the thought of you, Reader admits to planning abduction, NSFW, dark themes (kinda), no pronouns mentioned, making out, dry humping

a/n: I haven't played too much of TKATB, but I get the gist of it, also didn't feel like writing too much smut, that'll be a separate post, also way shorter than I expected

White is you, Green is Sol, Crowe is purple, Pink is Brittney... Everyone except you and Sol get 1-2 lines in a flashback

MINORS DNI ‼️ or do, idc

It was sunny out and you dreaded waking up to another day of hell. You shower, get dressed, eat, and get the fuck out.

Leaving the house, you made sure to take your keys, wallet, and phone, which was actually charged this time..

"I'm not forgetting anything right?"

You look around your apartment, making sure nothing is left or out of place, when your eyes catch the window, or rather, the window lock.

"I've really gotta replace that, I swear I already did... whatever"

You brush it off and leave, making sure to lock the door on the way out. You make your way to Olympieus University, the corrupt college you still manage to attend.

Of course, walking to class, the first person you see is Crowe, your "best friend", but you fucking hate him. Well- not hate, but you really don't like him, romantically at least...

You had your eyes on Sol, the kid at the back who sketches in his book. Solivan Brugsmania was his name, and he was the hottest fucking guy you've ever met. He stayed to himself, and you've caught him looking at you once or twice.. I mean, yeah you'd catch him, you stared at him lots, shamelessly too.

It wasn't until your art teacher paired you two up for a project that you'd finally have the chance to talk to him! You hurried and made your way to the back, not worried about the stares of the other students who wondered why you were so eager to sit with the weird guy.

Solivan smiles as you sit with him, you look so happy and eager to work with him that it melts his heart...

"Hey Sol, it's me again!"

"Yeah, hey Y/N..."

The both of you chat it up for a bit while starting the project, it was simple. Make portraits of eachother and make sure it looks right, not that serious.

Especially for you.

Little did Sol know, you've been watching him for awhile, and not just in class. It wasn't your fault, he was just so fucking amazing, you wanted to know what his life was like! No harm in that, right?

Wrong.

That's what your mother said to you. It was junior year and you liked this person, so much so that you followed them around a lot, sometimes without their knowledge. It was a habit you tried to desperately grow out of, but you just couldn't. It felt... out of your control.

Sol sits across from you in your apartment, as you both agreed to finish off the project at your place.

Perfect for you, wasn't it?

"Okay, I'm done. I think it looks nice"

"Yay! Lemme see!"

He hands you the paper as his face turns a light shade of pink. He looks away, the sketch was so accurate you wanted to kiss him right then and there. But, as tempting as it was, you held back.

Just like you always did.

"You like that guy?"

"He gives me bad vibes, Y/N"

"Don't involve yourself with him"

"I just don't want you to get hurt"

They all said the same thing.

Did you know something was wrong with him? Yes.

Did you do anything about it? No.

Why? Because you're the same.

"Y/N?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry..."

"Did you uhm... Did you like it?"

"Of course, Sol, I love it!"

You smile and give him a hug, thanking him for the portrait before starting on his. You sketch his face shape carefully, this was the only time you actually had a reason to stare at his face. He was the most beautiful person you've ever laid eyes on, you swear it.

A few hours had passed and the portraits were looooong forgotten.. You had somehow ended up in Sol's lap, grinding down on him while he kissed you feverishly.

Your hands planted on his shoulders, one of his hands on your waist, the other cupping your face as his tongue slides into your mouth. His whimpers and whines hitting your ears doing nothing but making you more aroused and you move your hips down harder, faster.

"Fuck... Y/N you're sooo good to me~"

You can obviously tell how good you are to him, judging by the fucking monster he has in his pants. Showing your appreciation, you lean down toward his neck and bite down, hard.

The pornographic moan he let out was heavenly.

"You're such a f-fucking good boy, a-aren't you Sol~?"

"A-all for you, baby~"

Nearing release, you smash your lips onto his again, going as fast as you possibly can with his assistance. You let out reluctant whines and whimpers as you get closer and closer to tipping..

An eye rolling, back arching, tongue lolling orgasm hits you like a freight train as Sol holds you closer to him, clinging to you like a vice.

"I've been dreaming about this, about us, for so long... and we finally made that happen"

"Really now? Been fuckin your first to me or something?"

You laugh, only half expecting the answer that comes after.

"If I said yes would you be mad?"

"No, I guess I have secrets too..."

"Like what?"

"I've been stalking you."

You say it so bluntly his eyes widen, as if he hasn't been doing the same thing!

"Well, guess we're on the same page. I've kissed you in your sleep..."

"So you're the reason my fucking window lock is broken!

You smack his chest before smushing his cheeks together

"You owe me 25 dollars!"

He just laughs before rolling you both over on the couch, his green hair falling over his face.

"That's nothing, I've got it"

"Looks like my plan of throwing you in an abandoned warehouse wasn't useless after all."

"Wow, you really beat me to it huh?"

You both end up finishing your projects at 2am... Sol does stay the night and you both surprisingly don't dread the next day.

Tags!

@rado-brisingr @whitneysslut @its-atsui-bitch

I only tagged adults, I'm not tagging minors, but idc if you read. Just make sure to like it.

[lsunstreakerl]

does search history charles ever have moments of intense insecurity where he thinks he isn’t enough for max or that daniel would be better for max. how does he tend to handle them?

oooooo that's a good question!! SH charles and daniel have a really unique relationship.

charles has an understanding of how complicated max and daniel are, and he's also aware of how much daniel means to max- it'd be impossible not to.

for charles, he went from knowing aggressive, hardheaded, surly max from karting, to seeing him again in f1. and the max he meets in f1 is completely different- he smiles more, he laughs louder, he's not as reserved as he used to be. and charles knows that's because of daniel.

charles also already kind of knew daniel through jules. I don't go in depth on it in the fics, and I won't, but SH daniel was in love with jules- charles always saw daniel's name lighting up his phone, always saw jules laughing with daniel. so he grew up admiring the two of them, kind of having that puppy crush thing going on.

when charles reaches f1 daniel goes from being "jules' daniel" to "max's daniel" and charles doesn't think about it a whole lot beyond that- he's more focused on the car, on proving himself. he doesn't have the emotional capacity to poke at the max thing in his heart. (they don't start sleeping together until max's first championship year)

at one point, charles and max have to have a really long, somewhat uncomfortable conversation about max and daniel, because max's views on sex are really fucky when they first get together, and charles needs to figure out what's going on there before they can make necessary progress in their own relationship. (referenced in both SH and 1+1+1)

the result of that conversation is that charles reaches his own internal understanding that while daniel means a lot to max, and he's helped take care of him and keep him together for years, he's not good for him. and max isn't good for daniel either. (if you're interested, 09000767 shows the beginning foundations of the maxiel relationship- they're not healthy.)

so charles doesn't really struggle with that insecurity afterwards. he respects the depth of max and daniels previous relationship, but he also firmly believes that it's exactly that- previous. with the exception of the weekend in 1+1+1, max and daniel don't engage in any kind of sexual relationship, since they've had their own conversations about that "relationship" being damaging for both of them.

it's kind of hard to get a grasp on the background maxiel lore without reading everything in the series, including the unfinished stuff, and there's a lot of little details that help put things together that you guys don't have yet, just because it isn't been written out.

I hope that helped answer your question :)

[greenevergreens]

I also want to add that a lot of the complaints about trans people also have and are said about lgb folk.

Lots of people today think being lgb is a mental illness, or that it's not real and just people wanting to be special and get attention. That they're choosing to be lgb. That they're predators and just want to abuse or even rape kids.

We have VERY similar struggles, and it boggles my mind that people who know and are treated extremely similar to us, want to distance themselves from us.

Like yeah, we aren't exactly the same, we don't have exactly the same struggles, but for fuck's sake we're family, metaphorically of course.

We all have people who want us dead for whom we love or how we exist in the world. We all have to deal with people who think that being LGBT+ or queer or whatever word you want to use, somehow makes us dangerous, perverse, and should therefore be eradicated.

You don't have to like trans people to understand that we are all in the same boat. Hell, you don't even have to think being trans is a real thing to understand that we're on your side, we want exactly what you want, to exist as our true self.

Your ability to exist as a Lesbian, Gay, or Bi person wasn't gained alone. We fought together, alongside each other. Now more than ever we need unity.

This isn't about the identity, this is about our right to exist outside what the republican, MAGA, Christian world thinks we should exist. It's about making sure women can still be masculine if they want to, it's about making sure men can be feminine if they want to. Whether it's about, presentation or gender, they can't stand people being different. They hate it so much they're willing to kill us over it.

So whether you see trans people as their identified gender, or just as men and women playing dress up, that too should be defended.

Not to mention, if you want to bring up the bathroom or sports debate, your problem is NOT with trans women, it's always been about cis men.

“What if a guy dresses up as a lady to sneak into the women's restroom” So your issue is with cis men, not trans women. Also, MEN DON'T NEED TO PLAY DRESS UP TO ASSAULT WOMEN, men have been assaulting women inside and outside of women's restrooms for forever and only extremely rarely do so by dressing up as women first. Also, just in case you forgot, CIS WOMEN CAN ALSO BE SEXUAL PREDATORS!!! I never see that being brought up, because it's not about the safety of the American restroom, it's about, demonizing trans women.

“Okay, but what if a man dresses up as a lady to compete in women's sports!?” When in the history of EVER has a man, who's so sexist he thinks women don't deserve their own space, who would want to degrade (I say degrade because that's how he'd see it), himself by PERMANENTLY changing his body. Making himself grow breasts, putting in all the effort of voice training, wearing dresses, wearing makeup. Men who hate women like that would NEVER want to do anything to associate themselves with womanhood.

Trans women don't just get to say they're women and then jump into women's sports, there's a process and that involves making sure she's been on Estrogen long enough to have muscle mass comparable to cis women.

And that's not even acknowledging the most glaring and obvious thing. SPORTS ARE NEVER, HAVE NEVER BEEN, AND WILL NEVER BE 100% FAIR. Any good athlete is bound to have some sort of natural biological advantage. Micheal helps has an unnaturally large lung capacity, by transphobic logic, he's cheating by the way his body was born. He doesn't deserve any of his metals.

Bodies are different, one person may have a biological advantage in swimming due to a large lung capacity. Other's may have an advantage in running due to the way their body doesn't make as much of a specific chemical that causes muscle fatigue. Others may be inherently better at marksmanship due to some weird thing about their body that gives them unnatural control over how stable their hands are.

That's life, trans women included or not, SPORTS ARE NOT 100% FAIR THEY HAVE NEVER BEEN 100% FAIR AND THEY NEVER WILL BE 100% FAIR!! That's how bodies work, that's how sports work.

so many of those "drop the t" people make no fucking sense.

"lesbians don't want to suck dick!" and nobody is forcing you to. if they are that's just rape and has nothing to do with their transition

"it's weird!" .. okay??? and?? so what.

"well its too complicated and they talk about dysphoria and stuff instead of just your attraction to other people!!!" life isn't that simple. if somebody's identity is complicated, that is fine. and even then transitioning isn't as confusing as you're making it sound.

"it's a mental illness!!!" I heavily doubt you're qualified enough to make that statement. and, regardless, in the hypothetical scenario that it was a mental illness (its literally not), not all mentally illnesses can go away! not all illnesses are developed throughout life; a lot of them you were born with but you didn't know!

to add more onto that, if you replace the word trans with any form of neurodivergency then things show a lot clearer on how stupid it sounds. let me demonstrate

"(having autism) is so weird" "people with (adhd) don't exist, theyre just troubled and (easily distracted) people who want attention" "(npd) is just an excuse for (people) to (act egotistical), its not an actual thing!"

that doesn't make any sense and is really stupid. so do you know what else is stupid?

"being transgender is so weird" "people with gender dysphoria don't exist, theyre just troubled and confused people who want attention" "transgenderism is just an excuse for men to creep on women, it's not an actual thing!"

summary/tldr, transphobes should fuck off.

[waltzreprise]

The (cutest) airport fiasco

~ 575 words.

"I'm his boyfriend" Sirius said.

He, James, and Lily were waiting at the airport. Remus's flight had arrived a couple of minutes earlier, and they were waiting for him after not seeing him for a month, so of course they were arguing over who was going to hug him first.

"I'm his best friend!" James replied.

"I'm also his best friend"

James made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

"You were the last one who saw him"

Sirius smirked, not only remembering that last early morning.

"Yeah, and the last will be first, listen to Jesus."

"Oh my god"

"Exactly!"

Lily, who was rocking Harry without intervening in the discussion, looked at them and just shook her head.

"You know what? The fastest one wins, and I'm an athlete."

"You didn't play Quidditch for a year"

"Ah, but having a baby makes you exercise a lot more."

"You don't understand the power of a needy boyfriend. And I am a needy boyfriend"

"I'm a needy person and I miss my best friend"

"Come on, Potter. It's my Moony"

"It's our Moony!"

And then...

"MOO-MOO!" Harry exclaimed.

"Yes, Mo-" James started to say, but then followed his son's line of sight.

Remus, suitcase in hand, smiled brightly, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his friends and boyfriend, but most of all, the little boy in his mother's arms, pointing at him and squirming.

"Oh, guys... I think the baby wins" Lily said, smirking.

"You totally knew that was going to happen" Sirius grunted, but he didn't sound afronted, because he was kinda melting.

Things got worse when Remus was close and Harry almost launched himself at him. He was going to die, love was going to kill him.

"Yeah, she had... joke on us" James said, "but it's so cute"

Lily turned her head and winked at them before hugging her friend. The first, well, second one.

But when Lily and Remus broke away and Harry felt that he had already given him enough kisses -which really consisted of leaving drool on Remus's cheek after trying to eat him- Sirius was so mesmerized by the sight that he didn't notice his brother move.

"OH, YOU TRAITOR" he exclaimed when he saw James running towards Remus.

"Dada no Moo-moo!" said Harry, who after all seemed to have not had enough of Remus to himself. Sirius understood the sentiment.

"Exactly, Harry. Dada no Moo-moo"

And maybe Sirius wasn't the best best goodfather at that moment, because the second his friends separated, he ran over to his boyfriend. He grabbed Remus by the waist and spun him around, making him giggle.

"Don't do that again" he said, "I missed you"

"Hi to you too, love" Remus said, back on the ground, just before kissing him.

They kissed like a couple who hadn't kissed in a month, hard and desperate, perhaps too much for being in public, but they didn't care. Not at all.

But it seemed there was someone who did care.

"MOO-MOO!! WANNA MOOMOO"

They broke the kiss laughing and kissed a couple more times, just sweet pecks, before dissolve the embrace.

"I'm being summoned" Remus whispered above Sirius' lips. "I missed you too"

Sirius let him go, melting again at the sight of him with Harry and thinking that in the end it didn't matter being the last to greet him. He would have him all to himself all weekend.

[hvnsinureyes]

You’re friends with Luka except it’s much deeper then that. Like when he first got drafted and moved to America you two became friends. So he considers you his first friend he ever made in the states and that’s really special to him. He considers your apartment the perfect safe space and is over there more than his own big ass house. He’s secretly been in love with you for YEARS, but will probably never tell you because this friendship is just too good to ruin and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if you ended up leaving cause he couldn’t keep his feelings to himself. He def spoils you like you’re his girl too, he genuinely puts any other boyfriend or situationships to shame with his birthday gifts. Imagine trying to date a girl and her 6’6” millionaire nba player best friend giver her a necklace that’s worth more then you make in a year☹️. Ughhh he’s so down bad you’ll tell him you’re going on a date and he tries to plan other shit for yall to do together instead. Yap session over 💗💗💗

not even a request but i just had to write a blurb abt this like omg i'm in love?? thank u anon!!

it's honestly sick because everyone practically screams that luka is in love with you, but you don't understand where they're coming from!

when luka first met you, it was just so easy for him to get caught up in your world. you were so kind and accepting! while other people would make fun of his accent or barely make an effort to get to know him, you introduced yourself first and absolutely fell in love with his origin. whether you knew anything about slovenia or not, you happily listened to him talk about his home country. not with fake interest either, you actually paid attention. you didn't mind helping him get settled into dallas either. never shaming him for asking stupid questions, patiently explaining things over and over until he understood, and taking him out to restaurants and places where he could forget about basketball for a bit and have fun. so of course he's a little attached and maybe somewhat fell in love with you!

people look at you crazy when you say that luka stays over your apartment overnight or for a day or two (sometimes a week, to be honest). you always say that he should appreciate his house more, especially with how hard it is to actually find one nowadays, but he always brushes it off saying, "yours is more comfortable". when really, it's because he can't stand being in such a big home all by himself. you bring so much liveliness in every room you're in, so why not just stay with you half of the time?

since he's always around, even when you're going shopping, he insists on paying. it's almost annoying how quick he is to get out his card and slap your hand away when you try to pay with yours. over the years he gets really sneaky with it, like waiting until you go to the bathroom so he can pay by himself. what kind of best friend would he be if he didn't spoil you?

and yes, anon you are so right! there is barely any room for boyfriends and situationships because luka makes sure he takes up your whole space. they can try to butt in between you two, but it never works. none of them end up staying because they know they'll never be like luka. gifting you a whole vacation to cabo, buying you a birkin or cartier necklace like it's nothing? it's like that one druski skit where his girlfriend is getting better gifts from other people! he's watching them get all upset at you squealing over your new gift (knowing that theirs is next and definitely doesn't amount to his) with a shit eating grin like, "do better, bro." he is sooo evil.

and god forbid he finds out you're using tinder or going on a blind date. like hello? you'll be getting a 3 hour lecture about how guys can be either murderers/kidnappers, creeps looking for a hookup, or desperate old men. even if they're a normal guy, he still doesn't buy it. why not just have a movie night instead? or go to a restaurant? like don't be silly, just hang out with him instead!

he'll bring you to his games making sure you wear his jersey, post you on his insta, shout you out during speeches and everyone's like ??? are you sure you guys are just best friends? you're so smiley thinking he's just being sweet but no babe, he wants that cookie bad. it's so painful to watch because luka is so ready to be your man, but so much is holding him back? what if you say no? you guys could be friends yes, but it would never be the same. luka wouldn't know what to do if you weren't in his life anymore. you made his nights in dallas less lonely, making sure to appreciate his culture but also help him get used to a new one. giving him the comfort he needed, but couldn't get for so long.

ugh he's so cute i cannotttt :((

[a-vibing-potato]

Ignoring how angsty they are, 5x3 and 5x4 of Supernatural are SO GOOD for me as a Castiel and Destiel supporter like oh my gosh

5x3:

Dean gets jumpscared by Cas in the mirror

The turn around and the fucking LOOK. OH MY GOD THE LOOK. Gay fuckers I swear. Dean looking Cas up and down and looking SPECIFICALLY AT HIS LIPS with his babygirl eyelashes and they're lowkey breathing each other's air and-

"Cas, we've talked about this. Personal space?" Like WHEN did you guys talk about this! WHEN did you have TIME

"My apologies" and the step back :(((( I'm just a slut for characters saying apologize/apologies instead of just sorry

Cas is so curious for Sam <3

"Give me one good reason why I should do this." UM, he literally rebelled for you? He was killed and died for you? He's the reason you got to see Sam right before he killed Lilith? He's the only way you got away from Raphael alive? Need I name more? You just owe him one dude.

"Because your Michael's vessel and no one will dare harm you." "Oh, so I'm your bullet shield." I mean, yeah, that too

"I need your help because you are the only one who'll help me. Please." BABY MY HEART SWEETIE

Dean leaning away from Cas' touch and Cas' confused look and Dean going "Whoa. Last time you zapped me someplace I didn't poop for a week. We're driving." yes please

(Also the excitement I had for Cas being passenger princess was UNREAL)

Cas' genuine belief that they can tell the truth and people will understand and believe them. Honey, I wish so much for you :(

DEAN HAVING A FAKE ID FOR CAS???? LIKE WHY??? HOW??? WHEN DID YOU HAVE THIS MADE??? BECAUSE CAS SEEMS SUPER CONFUSED LIKE HE DIDN'T POSE FOR AN ID PICTURE BUT THERE HAS TO BE AN ID PICTURE RIGHT??? HOW WHY WHAT WHEN WHERE-

The tender readjusting of Cas' trench coat and shirt collar to get him prepped for interviewing the sheriff <333

"Because that's how you become the President." Did I ever mention how much I love Dean?

Dean introducing himself as FBI and Cas being absolutely ZERO EMOTION OR DESIRE TO TALK OR DO ANYTHING

The ID being upside down

Dean flipping it right side up and saying that he's new <3

CAS LOOKING AT HIS OWN ID CURIOUSLY. BABY JUST WANTS TO KNOW HE'S SO SWEET AND PRECIOUS.

Cas sitting in peak dissociation until he blurts out that angels and demons are causing this. Like honey you haven't talked in ten minutes and showed no desire to do so, why now lol

"What did he say?" "Nothing." "Demons." *look at each other* "Nothing." "Demons."

Dean's pointed look at Cas, clearly telling him to shut up. "Anyway..."

"He's down at St. Pete's." "St. Pete's." Baby thinks he's being so helpful lol. You're doing great, sweetie <3

"Just an empty vessel." Dude that's literally still a human. Like that just makes me think of referring to all humans as empty vessels, because, I mean, they are all just potential vessels waiting to be filled.

"So is this what I'm looking at if Michael jumps in my bones?" and Cas' response being basically "Nope! It'll be worse :)"

"Where've you been?" "Jerusalem." Great, just normal Tuesday things lmao

"You keep saying we're gonna trap [Raphael]. Isn't that kinda like trapping a hurricane with a butterfly net?" and Cas' response being "Nope! It'll be worse :)" Part 2

"Do we have any chance of surviving this?" "You do." LIKE YOU DON'T??? (I FLIPPED MY SHIT WHEN HE SAID THIS)

"So odds are you're a dead man tomorrow." "Yes." AND YOU'RE JUST CHILL ABOUT IT??? YOU JUST DIED AREN'T YOU SCARED!

"Well. Last night on earth. What are your plans?" "I just thought I'd sit here quietly." Stop he's so real for that

"Booze, women?" AND CAS IS SO FLUSTERED POOR THING HE'S SO INNOCENT I CAN'T DEAN YOU'RE MAKING HIM UNCOMFORTABLE

"You have been with women before. Right? Or an angel, at least?" AND THE UNCOMFORTABLE NECK RUB LIKE NO WHY WOULD HE HAVE BEEN? WHEN WOULD HE HAVE DONE THAT? Dean Winchester, do you really think Cas would've done that?

"Look, I've never had occasion, okay?" Yeah, and that's totally fine baby like that fits your life story and character arc, no need to be embarrassed

"There are two things I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay. Two, you are not gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch. Let's go." aka the GAYEST sentence of all time. I wish the next scene was them fucking dirty on the mattress because oh my GOD, DEAN

POOR Cas in the strip club, he looks close to tears, probably shaking. Sweetheart... he does not belong here. The autism doesn't like the club and the gay doesn't like the women lol

"This is a den of iniquity. I should not be here." BABY not to mention being somewhat of an ex-ANGEL in a strip club. That's fucking rough.

POOR CAS chugging that beer like it's his lifeline. He's also probably never really drank too much if at all before, so a lot of firsts for baby.

His begging, pleading look to Dean when he's about to go with the stripper :(

THE SCREAM?? And Cas looking a little disheveled with his trench coat coming off his shoulder a little bit <3 but also poor babe, couldn't even get his JACKET off before he got pushed out of bed

NOT CAS USING THE GIRL'S DADDY ISSUES AS FOREPLAY

"This whole industry runs on absent fathers." STOP

This being the hardest Dean's laughed in years <333 (and that's the story of how Cas got banned from a strip club :))

Cas's Enochian chanting >>> plus "I'm here, Raphael. Come and get me, you little bastard." is this honey's first time cussing??? or am I just forgetting some other time? Just feels like something he doesn't do.

CAS CALLING RAPHAEL HIS LITTLE BITCH

Cas looks so fucking beautiful riding in the passenger seat like the princess he is <3

5x4:

Cas standing on the side of the road, talking to Dean on the phone but a car goes by

"What???? What?! I didn't- I didn't get that." one of my FAVORITE Cas moments I've seen so far (and this is counting ALLL the spoilers I've seen for like season 9+) because his entire voice changes!! He drops the deep voice AND the gravel and is all high-pitched and ADORABLE and it makes me wonder if the gravely deep voice IS his actual voice or if he just puts it on for show. My headcanon is he just puts it on to sound more powerful but BABE.

THE quote of all time "This isn't funny, Dean. The voice says I'm almost out of minutes."

"I'll be there immediately." "Whoa, I've got stuff I need to do!" "What stuff?" Cas is so ready to roll lmao

"I'll just wait here then." Poor baby :( Dean hung up on him :(

"Why not go get washed up for the orgy?" WHAT??????? WHAT?!?!?!? AFTER LAST EPISODE WHERE HE WAS SO EASILY FLUSTERED BY SEX??? ORGY??? MY BOY

"What are you, a hippie?" "I thought you'd gotten over trying to label me."

End!Cas IMMEDIATELY understanding and knowing what's up with Dean

My favorite part of the entire episode: His SMILE and his GIGGLING and oh my gosh he's just so HAPPY and sweetheart <333

"no dice"

"Are you stoned?" "Generally, yeah." (With giggling!)

(Talking about torturing people) "No, that's good. Classy." *End!Cas laughs* "What? I like past you." (ALSO forgot to mention but I LIVE for the vibes of End!Cas in his ratty-ish lowcut shirt and baggy pants and just laid back energy, and in this scene specifically adored him propping his legs up on the table :) like our 2009 Cas would never do that)

"Are you saying we, uh, walk in straight up the driveway, past all the demons and the Croats, and we shoot the devil?" "Yes." "-Okay."

"Are you coming?" *End!Cas sighs* "Of course."

"He's coming." "-Okay." (Also one of my favorite things about End! Cas is every time he asks a question, End!Dean says some answer that End!Cas obviously thinks is wrong and kinda stupid, but End!Cas immediately just responds with okay before End!Dean has even hardly finished his sentence. He goes wherever his boyfriend goes <33)

Cas driving???? I mean, it's End!Cas but still. And taking pills ON THE ROAD?!

"It's the perfect antidote to that absinthe." Icon, honestly

"But when they bailed, my mojo just kind of— psshhew!—drained away. And now, you know, I'm practically human. I mean, Dean, I'm all but useless. Last year, broke my foot, laid up for two months." he's so chill about it though, like I hate this for him but also relatable queen

"So you're human. Welcome to the club." "Thanks." (genuine)

"Why the hell not bury myself in women and decadence, right? It's the end, baby. That's what decadence is for." Once again, ICON

"Why not bang a few gongs before the lights go out? But then that's, that's just how I roll." That is NOT how you roll but I love you

CAS SAVING DEAN FROM ZACHARIAH YES PLEASE

"That's pretty nice timing, Cas." "We had an appointment." (and Cas' genuine smile!!! He missed his boyfriend and couldn't wait for their date :))))

[zepskies]

👀👀 Oh Dean is that how you always say thank you? lol

ahahaha probably not. 😝

Is that a little Friends reference there?

Ooh girl you know it is! 😘 There are a LOT of them in this part especially lol.

Oh Lisa, I imagine a get together to celebrate is the last thing anyone is going to want to do right after giving birth. I'm going to give her the benefit of the doubt here and assume she's trying to be nice and wants to feel included.

Right?? lol Poor mom just wants to rest, and Dean sees that in that scene. But my HC was that yes, Lisa's just trying to be "a part of it," but she's going about it the wrong way. 😅

5 YEARS??!! I just wanted to shout at them here, they've gone 5 years and still haven't worked out they should be together! I can kind of understand it though, there has been a lot of misunderstandings and miscommunication happen from the beginning with these two.

Suuuuper fucking frustrating, right? lol But yes, the central theme here is misunderstanding/miscommunication, and that follows them until the end unfortunately. 😅

Oh she's with Benny. I can understand that he's a good guy. I have a feeling he may end up getting hurt though.

Once again, your instincts are spot on (unfortunately for Benny). 🥲🥲

Ah Lisa has picked up on it, although I don't think Robbie's birthday party was the best time to start bringing that up.

Like, her point is totally valid, but maybe not at a 5 year old's birthday party? 😅

Lisa really hit a nerve didn't she and the bike is where his frustration is really coming out.

Oh yeah you nailed it. Dean's pissy-ness here is in large part stemming from him not liking the idea of reader and Benny potentially getting married. 🥲

Hmm... interesting 🤔 That whole scene between Dean and Lisa after they left the restaurant was so sad. I did feel sorry for Lisa there it must be so difficult having to face up to the realisation that the person you are in a relationship with is in love with someone else.

Right? The emergency contact thing was super telling imo.

I'm glad you felt for Lisa - that scene was really the biggest thing to try and redeem her from Part 1. She doesn't deserve all the push and pull Dean has put her through either, and the way she finally lets him go and tells him to fight for his family is a true credit to her strength and character growth at this point. 💜

Although poor Benny! I was afraid he was going to get hurt...

I knowwww, poor Benny really gets the worst of it. 🥺 He doesn't deserve what happens, and that he feels he has to transfer out of Firehouse 83 because he just can't be friends/work with Dean anymore. It's too painful. It just shows how we can unintentionally hurt those closest to us by keeping things inside/not being honest -- which now that I think about it, was a theme SPN touched on a lot between Sam and Dean.

Perfect ending to this lovely story. I thoroughly enjoyed this lovely 💖

Aw thank you so very much, lovely!! I'm so glad you enjoyed If I Stay, despite the angsty ride. 😅 Stay tuned for an epilogue in hopefully the near future! 💕💕

IF I STAY - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

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

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

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

Word Count: 13.1K

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

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Part 2: It’s Now or Never

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…Or something like that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Benny! It’s good to see you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why does it smell like a bakery in here?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aw, come on. It’s a badass name!”

“What about Aiden?” you suggest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How about Benjamin,” comes a Louisiana drawl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FIVE YEARS LATER... 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Need an iron lung?” Lisa teases.

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

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

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

Dean’s good mood diminishes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? What’re you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean expels a heavy sigh. “Lis—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your brows raise high. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just that what? he wonders.

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

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

“Dean!” Benny shouts in alarm.

Luckily, the truck itself breaks Dean's fall.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Benny nods.

“You got it, brother.”

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

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

Her tone is cutting, and it takes you aback.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two Months Ago...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I caught a minnow!”

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

“A marlin?” Robbie questions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you tell him?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you ask.

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

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

“Before Lisa,” Dean says.

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

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

Your eyes widen. Finally, that jogs your memory.

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

You have to laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh. “That’s not what I meant.”

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

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

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

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

But Dean surprises you with another question.

“Do you think if…”

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

Just as you open your mouth to reply—

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

“Okay, thanks, Mom,” you nod.

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

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

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

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

Now...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nice and safe.

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

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

He subtly clears his throat, then takes your hand. “Sweetheart, I know I’m not all that good at the words you’re supposed to say. But I can say that the past three years with you and Robbie, it’s come to mean the world to me.”

Your smile softens. He brushes his thumb over the back of your hand, encouraged by your reaction.

“So I think it’s time I made it clear where I stand, and how much I want to be the man in your life,” he says.

Your eyes begin to widen in shock, but not for the reason he thinks.

“Dean,” you gasp.

Benny’s expression slackens. “What?”

You point over his shoulder, and Benny turns to follow your line of vision. Dean and Lisa have just walked into the restaurant. They notice you pointing their way, and they both pause in surprise as well. Lisa is beautiful as usual in a slinky black dress, completely backless (something you feel you could never pull off, unless you had an invisible bra to keep the girls perked up).

Dean is…well, you’ve very rarely seen him in a suit, but charcoal gray works for him. The open collar and white buttoned-down works for him, as do the three top buttons he’s left undone, showing a tantalizing strip of tanned skin. He stares back at you like he forgot you live in the same time zone, let alone the same zip code.

“Uh, hey!” he casts out an awkward wave, before he makes his way over to you and Benny. Lisa is less than enthused.

“We shouldn’t interrupt their night,” you catch her whisper to him, but Dean doesn’t seem to hear her.

“What’s up, party people! Of all the gin joints in all the world, huh?” Dean says, a little too loudly when he thumps Benny on the back. Benny grunts, giving a bit of a forced chuckle.

“Dean,” he greets. “I think I told you about this particular gin joint. Good to see you can actually clean up once in a while.”

“Ah, you know what, this monkey suit ain’t too bad,” Dean says, pulling at his collar.

You smirk in amusement. “Yeah, I remember how much you complained about wearing a simple tie for Robbie’s Christmas pageant.”

He smirks down at you. “Hey, ties still might not be my thing, but nothing wrong with a sharp collar.”

He pops his for emphasis. You don’t know why it makes you laugh, but it does. Maybe it’s just his face and the silly, endearing expression he makes when he pouts his lips in a “blue steel.”

“So, is this just a night out, or you guys celebrating something special?” Dean asks, gesturing at the champagne bottle and your full glasses of bubbly.

Benny gives his friend a certain look. “Yeah, as a matter of fact. Today’s three years.”

He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. You smile back at him, though you’re a bit self-conscious at the way both he and Dean, and even Lisa have their attention on you.

“We should let you guys get back to it then,” Lisa says.

Honestly, it’s a relief. You and Benny nod, wishing them a goodnight.

For some reason, you notice how Dean’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. But he goes with Lisa, laying a hand on the small of her back. You force yourself to tear your eyes away from them and refocus on Benny. You take up your champagne glass and raise it in offering.

“All right, where were we?” you ask, if with a nervous trill in your belly.

Benny smiles. He takes up his glass and clinks it with yours.

Lisa nearly sighs. She and Dean are back in line at the front of the restaurant, waiting to be seated. The second time she catches Dean glancing over at the table where you and Benny sit, she shakes her head and digs into her purse for the valet card. She’s done with this.

“I think maybe we should go to a different restaurant,” she says.

That finally earns Dean’s attention, mostly confused. “What, why?”

She just gives him a long look.

He realizes that whatever her reasons are, it’s easier to just give in than to fight her on it. He’s learning when to pick his battles. Or is he just giving up?

Also, if tonight’s “the night” he thinks it is for you and Benny, maybe he doesn’t want to stick around after all. Three years, huh?

“All right, fine. Let’s go,” he agrees.

Dean and Lisa wait for the valet to bring the Impala around. The minute he gets behind the wheel and turns the key into the ignition, she changes her mind.

“Look, let’s just go home,” she says. “I don’t really feel like eating out anymore.”

Dean’s brows raise. “What? Aw, come on. We’re already dressed and everything. You look great, Lis. Just tell me where you wanna eat.”

Lisa remains firm, with a small shake of her head. “Please, Dean, just take me home.”

After a moment of indecision, Dean sighs. He revs the ignition and does as she says.

It’s only a fifteen-minute drive back to their apartment, but in that stifling silence, it seems to drag on for a small eternity. He glances at her a couple of times. Lisa has her arms crossed as she stares out the window, watching the other restaurants and mom-and-pops shops and forest trees and old houses of Lebanon, Kansas go by.

Dean counts it a blessing when they’re finally home. He walks up the few short steps up to their ground-floor apartment and unlocks the door. He flicks on the lights inside, and she breezes past him to toss her purse onto the couch.

Dean takes off his blazer and begins to undo the buttons on his cuffs. He watches her all the while, knowing that a storm is brewing. She shucks off her heels and slowly paces the living room on bare feet, like her whirling thoughts are fueling every step.

“All right, I give. What’s going on?” Dean asks. “What’d I do this time?”

She pauses, with her back turned to him.

Shit, he thinks. He shouldn’t have said it like that.

He prepares for the inevitable blow up, but it never comes. Lisa just heaves a sigh. Slowly she turns, and Dean’s shocked and dismayed to see the tears welling up in her deep brown eyes. He makes quick strides toward her, but she raises a hand to keep him at bay.

“Dean, when you picture yourself happy, truly happy,” she says. “Is it with me? Can you imagine yourself marrying me? Buying the house, having kids, growing old together?”

If Dean was thrown for a loop before, he’s even more stunned by her question. “Lis…”

“Just be honest, for once,” she pleads. Her tears begin to brim over, but she blinks, somehow keeping them at bay.

It’s a bit too long before Dean realizes that he can’t give her an answer. At least, not the one he knows she wants to hear.

When he thinks of that picture in his mind, of course he sees his son. But the only other person Dean can imagine there beside him is…

“I…” He wills his mouth to work, but nothing else comes out.

The only face he can conjure is yours. Your eyes are warm and welcoming, your smile as bright and contagious as your laugh.

The only voice he can hear is yours, gentle and strong at the same time.

The only one he can see is you.

He knows the shampoo you use and the perfume you like to wear, how the sweet and floral scents mix together and linger in your hair and on your skin.

Even now he remembers the contours of your body, and how it could fit so well against his. He knows that you used to try and hide your shape under loose, baggy shirts and cargo pants that did nothing for you. He knows how much courage it took you to wear that red dress to his brother’s party, because you told him once, at one of those Sunday dinners at your parents’ house.

Come to think of it, there’s not a whole lot that Dean doesn’t know about you, except maybe what you see when you look at him.

“You love her,” Lisa finishes for him. “I think you always have.”

Dean’s throat tightens. Somehow he swallows anyway, and he shakes his head. 

“Lisa, I loved you.”

“Maybe you did, in your own way,” she says, laughing a little through her tears as she wipes them away. “But you already have a family, Dean. Go fight for it.” 

Dean doesn’t know what to say, but he knows what he can do.

He goes to her and kisses her cheek. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says. 

Lisa merely nods, wiping her face dry. She watches Dean Winchester walk out of her apartment, and out of her life for good this time. 

Dean calls your cell, but it goes to voicemail. He drives all the way back to the restaurant and doesn’t find you or Benny there. 

Dean realizes that what he’s doing, what he plans to do, is not fucking cool. He wouldn’t blame you or even Benny for being severely pissed when Dean shows up. He also knows that he can’t let another day pass where he keeps lying to you, and himself. 

He eventually finds you at home. What’s weird is that Benny’s truck isn’t in the driveway—just your car. He knocks on your door, and he waits.

He unconsciously holds his breath while he waits in that terrible existence of limbo. However, his heart thrums back to life when he hears your footsteps drawing closer to the door. Anticipation, excitement, dread, it all roils together inside him like a bad cocktail as the door swings open.

And he’s once again rendered a bit breathless at the sight of you in that dress. The color alone appeals to him, let alone the way it accentuates your every curve, from full breasts to the swell of your hips, the softer slope of your thighs, and bare toes painted. You’re fucking delectable, every curve, and a temptation without you even meaning to be. 

You’re just…you’re still so goddamn beautiful, like the night he first saw you. Even now, he can almost feel the give of your thighs under his hands, his fingers pressed to supple flesh. 

But then he’s drawn to your face, and your wide eyes full of surprise. Your mascara is a bit smudged though. Your eyes are red too, like you’ve been crying. His brows furrow in concern.

“Dean, what’re you doing here?” you ask.

“I need to talk to you, but uh…did something happen?” he asks. “You okay?”

You’re reluctant to tell him. Did Benny say something to upset you? Or was it something he did?

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say.

Instinctively, Dean knows it’s a lie.

“This isn’t a good time though,” you say, after clearing your throat. “Can we do this tomorrow, maybe?”

Dean leans a hand on the doorframe.

“Please, it’s important,” he says. His eyes implore you harder than his words. Please.

That does it. A sigh passes through your lips, but you let him in. He knows Robbie is with your parents for the night, which actually makes this easier.

Once he steps inside the apartment, Dean does notice that your bedroom door is open. Half the drawers to your dresser are open too, and empty. Certain frames that used to be on your coffee table are no longer there, like the one of you, Benny, and Robbie on a camping trip. 

“You want some coffee, or soda?” you ask. 

Dean declines and grasps your arm before you can busy yourself into “hostess” mode. He leads you to the couch, where you both sit down together.

“What happened tonight?” he asks. “Where’s Benny?”

Your lower lip wobbles, the beginning of your telltale cry face. Dean knows his son gets it from you, and it always breaks his heart. He squeezes your arm gently, trying to ground you.

“Benny proposed to me tonight,” you confess, taking in a sharp breath. “He proposed, and I couldn’t give him an answer.” 

You shake your head as the tears sting hot in your eyes. 

“He got so upset, he just—he left!” You throw your hands up. “But honestly, I don’t blame him.”

Dean tries to comfort you as you try and fail to wipe at your face. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, cupping your cheek to brush the tears away himself. 

“Why couldn’t you answer him?” he asks. 

You look up at Dean, and you finally notice the shine of hope in his eyes. Dean touches your cheek more tenderly. 

“Does it mean I have a chance here?” he asks.

Despite what your eyes tell you, you still gape at him in shock. “What? But…what about Lisa?”

“It’s over. For good this time,” Dean shakes his head. “I realized what I wanted for my life, and where my heart is…”

And he chuckles weakly. “Truth is, you’ve had it the whole time, sweetheart.”

You begin to crumble all over again. You pull away from him and his touch, because you can’t believe it. You cover your face with your hands, sniffling as you try to make sense of his words, his touch, and the warm flutter threatening to brim happiness in your heart.

“God, Dean. You can't just..."

"I mean it," he insists.

You're still reluctant to take him seriously...no matter how much you want to. It's a conflicting realization that hurts, and makes you feel stupid for taking so long to figure it out, and makes you hate yourself for hoping his words are true.

"Come the morning, you’re going to change your mind,” you reason, without looking at him. “Like you’ve done with Lisa a thousand times.”

“No,” Dean says firmly. He shifts closer and prompts you to look at him, really look at him.

“Not about this, and you know it,” he says, catching and holding your gaze. “That’s why you couldn’t say yes to Benny. Because you know what we’ve got. It’s the real deal.”

You still look uncertain, even though you can’t bring yourself to pull away this time. Dean has always had this way of looking into the very depths of you, like he can actually see every thought as it passes through your mind.  

“I should’ve said yes,” you say. “I can rely on Benny. I know he would stay by my side, and…and I know he won’t hurt me.”

Not like I’ve just hurt him, you think. Guilt still pricks at your heart. The last thing you ever wanted to do was lead him on, and yet, that’s what you’d done, wasn’t it? You thought you had loved him. You’re sure that you did, but maybe it just wasn’t the kind of love that could reach down deep and grab you, set your blood on fire, and make you ache when the burn was gone.

That spark licks across your skin when Dean takes your hands.  

“What if I want to be that guy for you,” he says.

You allow yourself to look at him. Really look at him.

You know Dean. When he gets an idea in his head, it inhabits every bone and shred of muscle in his body. There’s no mistaking his resolve, or the steady grip of his hands over yours.

“If you let me, I’ll stay. I won’t leave you,” he says. In his eyes, there’s a firm promise. “I can be the guy you rely on. The man you can trust. The man who’s gonna love you, come whatever. Because now I know what it means. I know how it feels.”

You bite your lower lip against the smile that wants to surface.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

Dean smiles for you. “If you wanna know the truth, I’m pretty sure I’ve been loving you since the day I heard Robbie’s heartbeat for the first time.” 

Your tears flow harder at that. A shaky breath escapes you, though it does nothing to steady you. Dean strokes your cheek gently with his thumb. 

“Please, just give me this one chance,” he asks. Begs, really. 

He doesn’t have to though. You nod, just a little. 

“Okay,” you agree. “Let’s try.”

Dean's smile spreads slow, but warm across his face. It’s your favorite kind, the kind that crinkles his eyes. 

He leans in and claims your lips with his own. The passion of it is familiar, but you don't think it’s the same as five years ago. Now, there’s an underlying note of tenderness in his touch and each new way he tastes you deeper. He holds nothing back this time, and neither do you. 

Your fingers tangle in his shirt, and then in his hair as you moan into his mouth. “Dean.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he answers against your lips, though he doesn’t give you much room to keep talking.

You haven’t heard him call you sweetheart in a long time. You feel your heart knitting back together, stitch by stitch. Tears sting in your eyes anew, but you squeeze your eyes shut against them.

“I…”

You can’t even continue the breathless thought. You hold his face desperately between your hands, pressing your forehead to his for a moment as you both catch your breath. But this man is like the sweetest, most seductive vice. Now that you’ve gotten another hit, you can’t resist. You no longer want to.

His arms wrap around you more securely, and he leans in to lure you back into his kiss. His tongue breaches past your lips to curl along yours with tantalizing strokes. His hands slowly move down your back and along your waist.

“Mmm, missed the hell outta this,” he groans into your mouth. Your heart flutters again at the way he holds you, the way his big hands squeeze you and feel you.

You let him guide you down onto the sofa cushions. He slots himself between your bare thighs and runs his hand up familiar smooth skin, bunching the skirt of your dress higher as he goes. He aims to get himself reacquainted with every soft part of you that welcomes him back.

For once, the gates around your hearts swing free. 

Dean never imagined that his own son would hand him the ring he gives to his wife, but today, it just feels like symmetry. He grins and winks at Robbie.

“Thanks, buddy,” Dean says.

His son’s beaming grin is wide and toothy, but the boy takes his job very seriously and delivers the other ring to you. You smile brightly and caress his cheek after you take the shining, white gold band from him. It matches the thinner band that Dean has for you; it'll soon join the engagement ring that once belonged to his mother.

Robbie had liked Benny a lot, but he loves his dad. He’s probably the happiest person in the room to see his parents take each other’s hands in front of the minister. 

Benny is understandably absent in the chapel today. You had met with him after that night of your botched anniversary to apologize to him, and so had Dean. Benny understood. He’d admitted that in the back of his mind, he feared this might happen.

“I wouldn’t blame you for being angry with me,” you said to him. “You can even hate me if you want.” Benny gave you a wry, melancholy sort of smile. “Part of me’s still mad at you, I won’t lie…but there’s no use in it. Not even hating you.”

Even though Benny bowed out, carrying his hurt and his grief on those broad shoulders, letting you go meant letting go of a friend too. He put in his paperwork to transfer out of Firehouse 83.

As he’d told Dean himself that day, and in fact, the last words Benny said to him…

“There you go, Lieutenant. A spot’s just opened up.”

Dean didn’t want to get promoted this way. He felt guilty enough as it was, and not just for Benny leaving the firehouse. Benny recommended Dean to the Chief himself though, saying that if they were going to give someone a Lieutenant’s badge, it may as well be the guy who got a perfect score on his test, and had the natural leadership skills to boot.

To the end, Benny was a gentleman.

Now, Sam beckons his nephew over. Robbie quickly goes to his uncle’s side and puffs his little chest out as he stands proud behind his dad. 

Dean is able to take you in, your beautiful white dress, and everything about you that makes him smile…including the way you smile back at him.

Man and wife is all he hears. It’s all he needs to hear, before he’s pulling you closer by your newly anointed hand. He dips you for a thorough kiss in front of all your family and friends. 

You squeal in surprise, making Dean smile hard enough for his cheeks to hurt. Giggling hard enough to make you tremble, you raise a hand to caress his cheek. But you give him another real kiss after he guides you back up to your feet.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips. The words are just for him to hear. Dean pulls back enough to see the truth shining in your eyes. Beautiful.

“Can’t help it, right?” he teases. 

You smile in amusement, but you grab his chin and shake it. 

“You got me,” you reply. “I really, really can’t.”

Your beaming smile softens. Even though the entire room is clapping and hooting and hollering in celebration, in that moment, all you really see is Dean. 

Here in his arms, you know that this is where you were meant to end up. From now on, it’s where you’re meant to be.

AN: From Lisa and Benny to Robbie and everything in between. Dean and the reader certainly aren't perfect in this, but what do you think about how their story unfolded? I truly hope you guys enjoy this one, because I've had so much fun with it. 🥰❤️❤️‍🔥

**As a reminder, One More Day (Dean x Latina Plus-Sized!Reader) comes out on 4/04 - the day after my birthday!~

Until then, please let me know what you thought of If I Stay! 😘 I might write more for these two in the future...

"Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, if I can't help falling in love with you?"

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[spitdrunken]

Heat Relief (Alastor x Reader)

Notes: Reader has a vagina, reader n alastor are both sex-repulsed asexuals, platonic sex for heat relief reasons, extremely dubious consent to noncon, retracted consent, CANNIBALISM AT THE END!

========

Heats suck ass.

One of Hell's cruellest jokes has to be you being reborn as a mammal, and all of the inconveniences that come along with it. Heats are the worst of all, up-heaving your entire life and leaving you incapacitated in the progress. Being high on a cocktail of hormones and left in a lust-driven frenzy is never a good thing… But there are plenty of people in Hell willing to take advantage of it. Add to that the fact you've never had that much of a desire to masturbate, and it's a recipe for disaster.

At least you have Hazbin Hotel now. While the conversation with Charlie about temporarily moving your room faaar away from the others, she'd been nothing but understanding and accepting. It was the first time you didn't feel disgusting about going through this every month. She even left you drinks and food outside your door at regular intervals. (Because, while it's very much possible to get through a heat without eating or drinking, being unable to die doesn't make it pleasant.)

After you've spent days using toys to get yourself off, you reek of it no matter how much you shower. The scent has to be chipped away at by time. When you head downstairs in desperate need for a drink, it's a walk of shame. Both of your wrists are throbbing with exertion.

You had wished the bar were empty, but wishes don't always come true.

Angel Dust takes one sideways glance at you and bursts out laughing. The tips of his heels clack against the wood of the bar as he kicks his legs around, one pair of arms crossed over his lap.

"Been having fun, babe? Fuck!" He leans his chin on one hand, swirling around a drink in your general direction with the other. "You were holed up in there for days. Y'know, I know a guy or two that could cut that time in half. Easy. Won't even cost that much."

You're, frankly, too exhausted to think of coming up with a comeback or quip. "Maybe. I'm tired," you respond. As if it isn't obvious. The practically audible roll of his eyes doesn't bother you. You're not into hiring a complete stranger as 'heat relief' even if it'd make your life easier. There's no reason to trust them.

You slide into a stool a couple seats away from Angel Dust. Husk looks at you, his frown relaxing somewhat. He probably experiences something similar, after all. Without any unnecessary words, Husk is pouring you a drink. A mix, though more alcohol than anything else. At the very least it could help you take your mind off of things. It might be what you need.

Even a couple of sips in, you know this is definitely not what you need. Given your exhaustion, the alcohol hits harder than ever and the drink tasted strongly of liquor to begin with. Your head feels heavy. So do your arms. Your legs itch to move. There's zero good reason to keep drinking, but sometimes you like the taste of your own self-destruction. It doesn't take long before you've veered well into 'tipsy' territory.

You can feel the pinprick of a gaze at your back. Static teases at the edge of your hearing. You ignore it.

"No, but, really," Angel Dust starts again. "I don't get why ya don't just hire someone and get it over with. Yeah, yeah, I get it— It's not pretty, you're not making kissy-kissy love-dovey faces at each other, but it's Hell, toots."

This time, you turn your head just far enough to the righ to shoot him a glare. You slam down your glass. A slosh of alcohol spills past the rim, staining the top of your hand and darkening the wood it lands on.

"I just don't like it, okay?!" You spit out, defensiveness flaring up all at once. The idea of some stranger's hands roaming over your body, to have to expose yourself like that in front of someone— To have sex with them, it makes your stomach turn. And, at the same time, hot tears burn at the corner of your eyes. You wish that you weren't like this too, sometimes, but what can you do about it? The alcohol has loosened your tongue. "I don't like to have sex, so why should I pay someone else for the honour of being touched by them?!"

You grit your teeth, eyes burning holes in the counter in front of you. This sucks. This is genuinely just horrible. Before the tears have a chance to spill past your cheeks, or you manage to make an even bigger fool of yourself, you stumble your way off the chair and up in the direction of your room. If anyone had told you anything, it would've been hard for the noise to get through passed your plugged ears. You can't shake the feeling that you're being followed and wriggle your ears as you pull your claws from them.

Still, the only thing you can think of, for now, is to get the hell out of there. You use your newly freed hands to wipe away at the corners of your eyes. You'll cry in the relative safety of your room. It's only when you've arrived at your door that you whip around, bringing you face to face with Hazbin Hotel's most infamous employee— The Radio Demon.

He's smiling, as usual, the quirk of his mouth revealing a glint of yellowed teeth. Alastor's pupils are narrowed into slits. The red, metal ferrule of his cane taps against the floor. He tilts his head at you.

"You are aware that it's quite rude to keep a caller waiting, yes?" You absolutely do not have the energy to deal with this. Why has he decided to cast his eye upon you now, at all times? You haven't been 'worthy' of his attention for even a moment prior. "But, I suppose you may be allowed a bit of leniency… That fellow can be quite a drag!"

You have no idea what he's getting at. If it weren't for the alcohol active in your system, you might've been left unable to speak at all. Right now, you want nothing more than to crash into your bed and sleep until you won't wake up without being even slightly hungover.

"Look, um, I was going to head to bed," you say, still teetering on the edge of an apology. Your mouth opens in a jaw and you barely cover it with your hand. "I probably can't help you much right now. Maybe Charlie—"

"Oh, no, no," Alastor intercepts with a shake of his head. "Dear, if I needed anyone else, I would have simply gone to them! No, you've caught my attention today, with your short-lived little speech down at the bar." He takes a step forward. You don't have the chance to move back before his fingers have invaded your space in a flash, wiping away imaginary tears still lingering near your eyes. You flinch after his arm has already retreated.

"That was…" You swallow. You're inebriated, but not far enough gone not to feel any shame about that moment already. "Well. Not great." You slump against the wall next to you. Alastor's eyes meticulously follow your every movement, and you soon find yourself straightening once again.

"Not great in the moment, perhaps," he acquiesces. "But I do believe there is potential for an agreement there between us. You see, much like you, I suffer from a similar… Ailment, shall we say, every month, like clockwork." You're left too speechless to interfere. Whatever direction you had anticipated this conversation to take, it had not been this.

"Much like you, I am not interested in the regular 'relief services' provided by the masses. I want it to be done with as soon as possible. In that respect, I suspect we have a shared interest. Objectively speaking, you are also more attractive than whoever is offering themselves up for a dollar and a dime." A beat of silence falls, the noise of static once again increases. "That was a compliment."

"T-thank you," you stammer, mind still struggling to catch up. It's like you've simultaneously sobered up and gotten even more confused. "So, if I understand correctly… You're saying we should have sex."

"That's how you could choose to describe it, yes. Only as a means to make both our lives a little bit easier. When I heard you express yourself earlier… Well, I would not have used the same phrasing, but I believe our feelings are much aligned! Always the perfect grounds for a fruitful agreement."

"I'm not… I'm not interested in making any kind of official deal," you tell him. One look at Husk turned you off the idea forever. It certainly hasn't done him any favours.

You've heard far too many horror stories about deals in hell gone wrong. In misheard conversations, or illegible fine print— You have no desire to find out that you've accidentally sold your soul to a demon as infamous as Alastor, relegated to being a cautionary tale for centuries to come. Though you will admit that the idea of easier heats is appealing.

"I don't think any kind of 'deal' is necessary in this case, my dear," Alastor says, looking down at his nails and flexing his fingers. "My reasons are clearly laid out, whatever you make of them. You wouldn't lose anything from it— Really, I'm being very hospitable right now, ha!"

Your mind chugs away. Perhaps it's the alcohol clouding your judgement, but it doesn't all sound so horrible, given the right circumstances. Charlie already knows of your heats, you could inform her of this, too. If she thought anything was up, you're sure the Princess of Hell wouldn't hesitate to burst in and help, embarrassing as it might be for you. That's simply the kind of person she is. Beyond that, powerful as he may be, Alastor is still incapable of killing you.

Your mouth is forming the words before you've completely thought them through. "I want it to be here, in the hotel. And if I hate it… Then we'll never do it again."

"Yes, yes, certainly. But it will be my room," Alastor counters. "Nowhere else."

This takes away from your idea of familiar ground, as you've never been inside there before, but it still feels safe enough. You nod, sealing your fate. Even without a tangible deal in place, you're certain that Alastor will hold you to your word.

Afterwards, the whole conversation feels like nothing more than a fever dream. For a few days, you manage to fool yourself into thinking that none of it ever happened. That you'd passed out in bed and dreamed up the whole thing.

This delusion manages to last until Alastor presents you with a strip of pills, informing you that you are to take them in order to line up your little 'predicaments'. Neither of you wants to be in any coherent state of mind for your little deal, it seems. If suppressing your heat through pills like these didn't suck so much, you'd be doing it all the time. But, whether this is the only time you go through with this or not, you only have to go through all the side-effects once.

When Alastor's rut rolls around, you don't need to be told. You can smell it on the air. It sends your temperature spiking, leading your feet to the door of his room without even thinking about it. After putting off your heat with the medication, it seems to fog over your mind more than ever before.

You lean against the frame of the door. Lifting your hand to knock on it brings the sensation of moving through sludge. Everything is so heavy, so difficult. Feverish heat pools in between your legs and soaks through your clothing. The fabric is clammy against your fur.

Your hand barely brushes against the door before it's yanked open. The world around you upturns at once, sending you crashing to the floor. Instead of your face meeting wood, you're caught in… Something. It's long, dark and a little transparent. Through it, your own skin and clothes are still visible. Following the tendril to its source, you find Alastor.

In the back of your mind, a little square untouched by your heat, you'd been worried about how this was supposed to go. What would you even say, would you have to make some kind of awkward small talk before you have sex with each other? That had seemed about as dreadful to you as the act itself. The dancing around the subject until neither of you would be able to control yourself anymore.

Alastor doesn't look like he'd be capable of such politeness or niceties right now. His bow tie is skewed around his neck, one of his gloves missing. His clawed hand, covered in gray fur, slowly clenches and relaxes again. The coat that he's wearing is more tattered than before. There are gashes left in it, around the bottom.

None of that is even mentioning his expression. His smile is stretched wide enough to look painful, a little spit gathered at the corners of his mouth. The pupils are deep, dark puddles you could drown in.

In your hours worrying about the logistics, awkwardness, and shame you had never once considered exactly what you would be in for, here. Alastor is dangerous, he's repulsed by sex, possibly even more so than you, and forced to take part in something he loathes— What had you been expecting? There is no lust there, but he looks ready to devour you whole.

"You kept me waiting," he tells you, every word strained out through grit, yellowed fangs.

You do not get the chance to respond. Entangled in his shadow, he drags you in through the entrance of his room, the door slamming shut behind you. Fear has doused your heat with a bucket of cold water and you let out a short-cut scream as you're dragged into his dark room, a glittering expanse of stars above you.

As you hang suspended in the air for a moment, the full expanse of his room sprawls before you. It smells of dirt and grass, with actual trees growing inside of it. Somewhere in the back, a bush rustles, and the thought flashes through your mind that he keeps other things in here.

"You'd do well not to be distracted," Alastor tells you, something still uncanny about his voice. His mouth opens ever so slightly, this time. A dark, uneven tongue momentarily darts past his lips.

You wish you could say something, anything. But every muscle in your body is tensed up, constricting even your throat. The walls of the expansive room seem to be closing in on you. You cannot actually, permanently, die in Hell by Alastor's mind, you tell yourself. But repeating this over and over again does nothing to soothe your nerves.

You're brought down to the ground, dropped in soft, wet clay next to a small pond in the room. You hit the floor with a wet smack that is anything but gentle. The wind is knocked out of you and you wheeze in a breath, the contents of your stomach sloshing around inside of you. Your nose is clogged with the smell of dirt and still water, reeds rustling as your fingers claw around in the mud in an attempt to get up.

Once again, all of your limbs are pinned down with tendrils and, in a flash, Alastor is on top of you. His hands roam over the lower parts of your body and, at the almost-gentle touch, your mind is starting to turn to slush again at the knowledge you'll have sex soon. Heats are truly incapacitating and, even with the smell of the pond and mud, Alastor's pheromones hang thick in the air. It's a scent that has your face scrunching up, metallic and sharp.

Your bones still echo with pain in response to the smack you made. "This isn't what we agreed to," you manage to force out, your body trembling.

Continuing on from touching, his claws have started to cut through what little clothing you're wearing on your lower half. Anything above your hips is left untouched. At one point, the nail catches on your skin and you jump.

"We would relieve each other's heats, in part with sex," Alastor says, the corners of his mouth trembling. With both of his hands yanking away the scraps of your clothing, you finally realise what is so wrong about his voice: It's raw, unfiltered through the usual filter of his microphone. "Other than that, I do not think we made any agreements that I could break. I cannot hurt you. Permanently, that is. If, in my 'excitement', I leave a little damage… I hope you'll accept any advance apology for that."

A thick string of drool slides through the gaps in between his teeth and drips down onto your chest, darkening the fabric. Your heart is racing and your head is rolling around the floor, multiple overlapping parts of you screaming over each other— Self-preservation, fear, shame, disgust, but there is nothing you can do about any of it.

Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut, imagining yourself in the comfort of your nest, cooped up in your room, anywhere more comfortable than here. Oh, right now, how you could wish that you could turn off your rational mind completely. The opportunity soon presents yourself as your thighs are nudged apart and you open your eyes just in time to see the tip of Alastor's cock nearing your entrance. Other than pulling his clothes a bit to the side, he hasn't shed anything.

A loud, guttural noise is ripped from your throat as he forces himself inside of you, cramming as much of his cock in your slick hole as he can in a single movement. No matter how sex-ready your body might be because of your heat, that doesn't make it comfortable. There are no slow grinds to loosen up your insides and get you used to the movement. If there are any tears, at least they'll be healed by the time he's done with you. Mud is caked thick underneath your nails and the tears dripping down your face add to the softness of the mud.

(you asked for this and you agreed to this but this is nothing like what you expected, what you wanted, and it is simultaneously worse and better. because you would have never wanted him to touch or caress you like a lover but, right now, you feel no better than a piece of meat.)

But when you open your mouth, as much as you want to scream or cuss him out, all that leaves your lips is a whiny, needy noise thanks to your heat. Your pussy has stretched out to fit him and the pain is gone. In response to your noises, your pheromones that must be filling the air, Alastor shows no response. Not even a twitch of his ears or nose. Instead, all that he busies himself with is the same, selfish thrusts, rapid and purely chasing his own pleasure.

If you weren't high on hormones, none of this would've felt remotely good. Now, though, with the pain ebbing away bliss takes it place, shooting through your limbs every time his hips meet yours with a smack. Your hand sneaks in between your legs and you rub vigorously at your engorged clit. The consequences of doing such a thing with hands so dirty as yours is something for the you of tomorrow to worry about. Aided by your hand, you cum in no time at all, walls spasming around his cock.

It's the first time Alastor lets out a noise other than his heavy panting. At your pussy clenching around him, trying to milk him, he lets out a groan. More spit drips down on your chest and, finally, you look up at his face once again. For a little while, he'd been nothing but a set of thrusting hips to you, too focused on the pain and the intrusion to remember who he is, what he is.

When you do, you wish you hadn't looked. His composure has only crumbled further. His smile has spread wide enough that his lips have started to curl in on himself, a little blood clinging to his lips from where his teeth cut through his bottom lip. He's pounding into you at a pace that has become bruising and, at this point, you can't imagine it feels good for him either. Your mouth hangs half open, a constant stream of little noises leaving your mouth.

Your orgasm has washed away the worst of your heat. With the increased clarity of mind, your stomach twists and turns and, once again, you close your eyes. The sensations are too much, the knowledge of the fact that you're having sex with someone you don't even like, platonically or romantically, digging gashes in your mental state. You should've never agreed to this. Your heat had egged you on to go here, but you'd taken those pills all those days. (In a little corner of your mind, perhaps you'd told yourself that it'd be worse if he forced himself on you when his rut rolled around and you weren't in heat.)

You listen to the ceaseless rustling of the plants at the edge of the pond and feel yourself retreating into the back of your head, trying to forget the rest of your body. You're a little thing huddled in the back of your head, gazing out at the world through your skull, and nothing else is attached to you, that is all that you are.

With another snap of his hips, Alastor finishes inside of you, spurt after spurt of cum filling you up. You let out a long, shuddering sigh. The sloppy thrusts, the gasps for air and the rolling of his eyes are all indicators that this is about to come to an end— A heat relief service indeed, but at what cost? You'll have to avoid him like the plague for the rest of your stay here, that's for sure.

You crack open your eyes. You are greeted with the sight of Alastor's mouth opening for the first time, teeth seeming longer than ever, saliva almost literally pouring down on you. Alastor is past all point of reason, panting so hard it leaves clouds in the air. A rumbling, like the growling of someone's stomach, reaches your ears. Before you can move even a muscle, he strikes.

His fangs sink down into the meat of your shoulder, tearing through the fabric of your shirt as if it were mere paper. You scream so hard your throat erupts in pain, violently bucking against the tendrils still holding you down. With every twitch of your muscles, they seem to solidify further. His tongue slathers the broken skin and torn muscle as you wheeze in a breath, tears and snot running down your face.

Alastor's cock has hardened inside you once again. It seems that he's satisfying two hungers at once, now. Black spots dance across your vision. Even if you can't die permanently, you seem to have a painful road ahead of you; until he's had his fill, that is.

[robbyandabbotsandwich]

Just some Pitt ramblings while I wait for Thursday to come around...

-McKay is the most underrated, slept upon character in this whole show and I am not here for it. She has clearly gone through some shit in her life, but she is kind and understanding, and I wish she were my primary care physician

*Also, her dad is Brad Dourif and I'm so fucking excited to see him in the next episode, holy shit

-Whitaker, my sweet angel, I will buy you some extra scrubs for Christmas, I promise. Just hang in there.

*He's just so lost, I want to put him in my pocket and carry him around everywhere I go. And I don't usually give a shit about the weedy little guys in shows like this.

-Santos is an incredibly complex character, and while I don't like her (projecting her insecurities on Whitaker after impaling Garcia with the scalpel--"Well, at least I didn't kill anyone"--was so uncool, sorry, I hated that tbh), I am so here for her character development. I really am rooting for her and excited to see where this wonderful show takes us

-I nEeD mOrE aBbOt HoLy FuCkInG sHiT

-Tying my last two topics together, I loved that scene last episode where Abbot both admonished and validated Santos about the REBOA

-I really hope Collins comes back, but I think she's done for this season. And honestly, I'm just happy to imagine her sitting at home in a cushy robe, painting her nails, and watching Bake Off, taking her care of herself.

-Dana is such a badass bitch and I love every second she's on screen

-Javadi, Javadi, Javadi... Sometimes I'm like, "Girl, what are you doing? Why are you saying that?" But much like Santos, I'm really excited to see how she develops over the course of the series. I mean, I was sure that she would be like, "Nah, this ED thing isn't for me," but seeing how she's adapting to the MCI and able to improvise and show up her fucking mom is so great to me.

*Also, I know this isn't really that type of show, but I'm rooting for her and Mateo. I think her crush on him is so cute and sweet... Her Utah omg

-HOW HAVE I NOT SPOKEN ABOUT MEL YET? She is definitely up there on my favorite character lists. I love how seen people feel by her. I love how much she just feels. And her little mentor/mentee situation with Langdon fills my heart with joy

-Speaking of Langdon, I didn't really think much of him until he and Mel warmed my heart so much. She really brings the humanity out of him and I hope he gets the recovery he needs.

-Ugh, and Dr. Robby. Oh man, did I fall in love with him. I mean, look at my username, then keep reading. What a fantastically written character. He's having the Worst day of his fucking life and he still has so much compassion and is able to keep teaching. The only thing I don't like about him is how he handled the whole David thing--especially when he snapped at my girl, McKay--but other than that, I love that man so much.

*Oh, also, I want it known that I called that David was a red herring and wasn't the shooter. I know it's not confirmed 100% yet, but...it's pretty obvious to me

**And can people please stop theorizing that it's Doug? I think it's more likely that the shooter is Myrna lol

-Abbot. My sweet, sweet Abbot. What a fucking character. Like, I'm not even joking, I was all in on Robby, and then that man came back, and omg Robby who??? Like, I'm on my third watch and my crush on Robby has waned significantly (I still love him, but, like... I'm just waiting to get to 6:00 so my new boyfriend can show up again)

-Oh, and I'm obsessed with Princess and Perlah. I want them to narrate my life in Tagalog

Anyway, that's how I'm feeling. I have a lot of thoughts on this show. Lots more that will probably come to my head long after I've pressed the post button.

Is it Thursday yet?