#i've had this thought in my head for a while

[thewitchblue]

"There's nothing wrong with you, Jay."

You murmured to him. He had a panic attack after a nightmare and panted softly in your arms. Everything was overwhelming, but your calming voice was guiding him back to reality.

The nightmare was bad enough to wake him up on his own instead of staying trapped until you wake him. He couldn't get enough air in his lungs. What's wrong with him? Why are you still putting up with him? You wake up every time he has nightmares, yet you comfort him the entire time.

"There's so much wrong with me, pipsqueak."

He says the nickname with so much love it melted your heart. You showered him in kisses while saying,

"You do what you have to do to survive."

He shuddered. He's a bad man in his mind. He has too much blood on his hands. Even if they were criminals, he still thinks he's a bad man. He felt tainted. He whispered,

"How can you love me when you know what I've done?"

He needed to know how you could even stand looking at him. You were so sweet and kind. You warmly said,

"I can love you because I know you."

He looked at you in confusion. Of course you know him. You wouldn't be sleeping in his bed with him if you were a stranger. You softly explain,

"I know you break into bakeries at night to get me my favourite pastry, but leave money on the counter so you don't feel like a complete jerk. I know you love my cheesy romance books despite pretending you don't. I know you love cooking for me so I can eat the leftovers and remember you."

Jason grumbled. He's always been a man who thinks actions speak infinitely louder than words. Anything is worth it for you. You continued with a smile,

"I know you love my lame jokes. You love to cuddle, and you replay romance scenes with me when you read a story you particularly enjoyed."

Jason hid his face in your hair. The big bad Red Hood was acting like a schoolgirl with a crush, and you loved him for it.

You kissed the top of his head. He was nestled in your side comfortably with his large frame curled to make it easier to cuddle. He placed his head on top of your chest and his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. He needed to be reassured that you were here and alive.

You let him listen to your heartbeat while you played with his hair the way he liked it. You smiled as you said,

"I love your smile, and I don't care one bit about the blood on your hands. You are protecting the ones you love in the only way you think will work. I know you pretend to dislike your family, and you'll fake gag around their significant others, but your romantic heart soars when you see couples being in love."

The gentle hand rubbing his scalp and your soothing heartbeat was luring him back to sleep. So what if he is a bit of a romantic. He can't help the way he feels.

"I know you read the books I recently read just so we can have a conversation about it."

Jason blushed. He thought he'd been sneakier about stealing books. He's read every book in your house during the two years he's been dating you.

He's a book thief, but he always returns the book and even organised the bookcase for you when you complained that you needed to organise it. You were looking for a book to give him, and it took a good fifteen minutes to find the book. You continued,

"I know you love when I lay on top of you because I feel like a weighted blanket, and you love when I hug you from behind to feel the height difference between us."

Jason yawned. You love this man with your whole heart. You don't care about Red Hood. You care about Jason Peter Todd, the love of your life. His large arms tightened around you before relaxing. He rolled you on top of him and kissed your forehead.

"I love you, pipsqueak."

You smiled at him and gave him a long kiss before softly replying,

"I love you too, hoodlum."

[fireinmoonshot]

patience, baby | joaquín torres x fem!reader

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: After escaping the Red Room, Bucky Barnes became a father figure to you. He'd never approve of you dating Joaquín Torres... but you have to come clean to him about it eventually. Warnings: Mentions of the Red Room, brainwashing and killing people. Reader was brainwashed and has killed before. Word Count: 1.7k A/N: Another request from a lovely anon 💗 This was fun to write. I've missed writing Bucky. I will definitely be writing for him again once Thunderbolts comes out and my Bucky Barnes obsession is reborn... Joaquín is extra cheeky in this one as well. I adore him. This is perfectly timed to be in celebration of him being in Avengers: Doomsday!

When Bucky had first introduced you to Joaquin Torres, he hadn’t thought much of it. The kid was the new Falcon, but he was also annoying as hell. It was only because of Sam that he’d bothered to introduce the two of you in the end.

Sam had insisted on it, saying that it would be good for both you and Joaquin to get to know one another. You were similar ages and could learn from each other. “Joaquin could do with some tips from someone like her,” Sam had said, and Bucky had relented eventually. He’d assumed that, since he was like a father figure to you, that Joaquin might be like a brother to you. You never really knew your biological family, so he convinced himself that this might be good for you.

You’d been through a lot in your life, being raised in the Red Room. Once you’d gotten out, Bucky had been there to help you through it. He understood what it was like to be brainwashed, to do things and not realise you were doing them. He’d helped you the best way he knew how. 

It was exactly why he was so protective of you. The second he realised he was wrong about all that, though, he regretted ever introducing you. 

He’d seen you staring across the room at Joaquin while he was training with Sam, trying to learn a barrel kick on solid ground before trying it in the air. After the accident, Joaquin had to take time off to recover, so he’d been hitting the gym pretty regularly to get his strength back now that he was healed.

The look on your face told Bucky everything he needed to know. 

“Stop that,” Bucky had said, placing his hands on your shoulders and spinning you to face him so that you would stop watching Joaquin. “None of that, okay?”

You raised your eyebrows and shook off his grip. “None of what, Bucky?” You said, as if you didn’t know what he was talking about – the fact that you’d been caught staring at Joaquin. And who could blame you? The man was an incredible fighter and it wasn’t your fault that he’d worn a sleeveless shirt to training.

He pointed a finger over towards Sam and Joaquin. “None of that. He’s a kid, you’re an Avenger.”

“Technically he is also an Avenger…”

“No.” Bucky shook his head. “Don’t even start.”

Luckily, you had dropped it after that – much to Bucky’s glee (if he even had such an emotion, you thought). You’d gone back to training with Bucky and tried your best not to let your eyes wander across the gym to where Joaquin was training.

Behind his back, though… well, what Bucky didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right? 

Whenever Bucky wasn’t watching, you and Joaquin would spend time together. The more Bucky trusted you, the more lenient he was with you spending your time outside the Avengers HQ – as if you weren’t a grown adult. If he’d known you were spending that time with Joaquin, you knew he wouldn’t be so calm about it. 

It didn’t take you very long to fall for Joaquin, or for him to fall for you. Even though he knew your past, he knew the rough details about who you were and what you’d done, he didn’t seem to care. All he wanted to do was to sweep you off your feet every single day. Sometimes, quite literally.

For the first time in your life, you felt human. 

It was that fact that made you realise that you needed to tell Bucky. You couldn’t keep a secret like this from him any longer. He’d want you to be happy, you knew that. In time, he’d warm up to Joaquin, you hoped. 

Joaquin meets you in the corridor outside the gym, a cheeky grin on his face as usual. He glances around to make sure no one is watching before he sweeps you into his arms, pulling you to his chest and brushing his lips over yours.

“Be careful, baby,” you murmur against his lips. “This is not the way I want Bucky to find out about us.” 

He pulls away reluctantly, a smile on his face yet again. “Sorry, I just can barely keep my hands off of you. I haven’t seen you in three days since I’ve been away with Sam and I’ve missed the feeling of you in my arms.”

His words set butterflies off in your stomach and you can’t stop yourself from leaning in to peck his lips. His hold tightens on you as you do and he attempts to deepen the kiss into something more but you pull away, leaving him pouting.

“Patience, baby,” you hum. “You’ll get plenty of kisses later when we aren’t right outside the room where Sam and Bucky are, okay? Can you be patient for me?”

Joaquin nods his head without hesitation. It’s taking all his self control not to pull you into the nearest storage closet and show you how unwilling he is to be patient right now. 

You place your hands on his chest and push him away from you gently. “Let’s go and see how this is going to play out…”

He reaches down and takes your hand. Your head snaps towards him. Does he seriously think holding your hand is a good way to break the news to Bucky?

“It’s a compromise,” Joaquin explains. “You won’t let me push you against this wall and kiss you properly, so I’m holding your hand when we walk in there. I’m not accepting any argument you might be thinking up in that gorgeous head of yours.” 

Then he starts leading you into the gym, pulling you along behind him. You laugh to yourself and hurry to catch up with him so that you can walk side by side. 

Bucky and Sam are standing across the gym near the lockers, talking amongst each other. Bucky’s back is to you, meaning he thankfully can’t see the way you and Joaquin are walking towards him, hands entwined.

“So, Bucky,” you start as you reach the two of them.

He spins around, his eyes instantly falling on your hands. He stares at them for a second before his eyes meet yours. “What is this?” He asks, glancing between you and Joaquin.

“Joaquin and I are together,” you state, figuring it’s better to just rip off the bandaid and get everything out in the open straight away. That way, there’s no chance of Bucky butting in and trying to stop you from what you’re about to say.

Sam, standing just to the right of Bucky, stifles a laugh. He’d seen this coming from a mile away, but somehow Bucky hadn’t. He’s almost tempted to walk away and let Bucky handle this alone, but for the sake of Joaquin, he stays.

“You’re what?” Bucky furrows his eyebrows. “I thought I said–”

“I know what you said,” you interrupt. “I’m an Avenger and he’s just a kid. But he’s an Avenger, too. And we’ve been spending time together behind your back – that was my choice, not his – and we really like each other.”

You feel a little silly having to explain all this to Bucky. Is this what it would’ve been like if you’d lived a normal life and had to introduce your boyfriend to your dad as a teenager?

Bucky looks between you and Joaquin, a little lost for words. You’re dating someone. For the first time since Bucky has known you, you’re not entirely his responsibility. You’ve been like a daughter to him for years now… and Joaquin is apparently not like a brother to you like he’d expected.

“I don’t think-”

He’s cut off again by you interrupting him, but he can’t bring himself to be annoyed by it. You’ve learnt this from him. Not only some of your fighting techniques once you’d escaped the Red Room, but apparently some of his personality traits too.

“I’ve never been able to have a personal life, Bucky,” you state. “I’ve spent most of my life killing people without even knowing what I was doing. I’ve spent a lot of my life being brainwashed into someone else. Can’t you just let me have this?”

Your voice is soft and it’s just enough to break through Bucky’s walls. 

“Just… just go and start stretching for training,” he says gruffly. “And don’t hold hands when you’re around me. I don’t wanna see any physical contact, you hear me?”

A smile breaks out on your face and you look up at Joaquin, who is sporting a similar look on his own face. “I’ll take care of her, Bucky, I swear,” he replies.

Bucky waves his hand, dismissing you both and watching as you walk over to the sparring mats on the other side of the room to start stretching. He’s not mad, not really. Just concerned. But everything you said was right – you deserve to be able to have this, this piece of normality, and he can’t find it in himself to not let you, even if it terrifies him. 

“I don’t want him to hurt her, Sam,” Bucky murmurs, crossing his arms over his chest.

Beside him, Sam laughs. “Buck, Joaquin wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“She’s been through enough,” Bucky continues as if he didn’t even hear Sam’s words. “The Red Room, everything that she went through there, learning to get past it all…”

Sam claps a hand onto Bucky’s shoulder, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Joaquin isn’t going to hurt her. Couldn’t you tell that just from the way he looks at her? The kid is head over heels. He practically worships the ground she walks on, man. She’s in good hands. Loosen up a little. It wouldn’t hurt you.”

He shoots Sam a look and steps aside, forcing Sam’s hand to drop from his shoulder. He can only hope that Sam is right about that, that you’re in good hands with Joaquin and that he’ll never hurt you.

“Tell him to watch his back if he does,” Bucky calls over his shoulder as he starts to walk towards you where you’re stretching. “Torres, get to your own mat! It does not take two people to stretch out a calf muscle!"

––––

Joaquín Torres Tag List (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!)

@sidkneeeee @dead-inside-but-happy @lay-lay-5 @marchingicenotes7 @phucboy @davinashifts333 @lomlbuckybarnes @laurenjbb @chansburgah @blackwidownat2814 @mischiefmanaged71 @madzlovez @marvelwitchergilmore @brittnicki @rheas-ripley @bcystar @victorsbathroomstall @giona45-5

[jean47mclean]

I don't think it's niche by any means but I've ALWAYS wanted to write a Marching Band AU because man I suffered too much for 4 years to not make my comfort characters suffer either.

Been thinking about it here and there but I was in Color Guard so I'm not as familiar with their instruments lol

I would say for JJK though I've thought quite a lot about it. And yes I know this is an American thing but whatever.

Really wanna make Shoko, Gojo, Geto, Utahime, Haibara, and Nanami the seniors to the other student's sophomores + freshman. I'm thinking Yaga as band director

As for where they'd all go...

From what I know about band kids *cough* the rest of my family *cough* I'll try my best

Gojo: trumpet. I've heard all trumpets have HUGE egos. Any more to explain for that?

Shoko: percussion. They're all chill. Kinda knew everyone but also kept to theirselves a lot. If I didn't make her a student she'd for sure be one of the med tent people (shout out to the med tent people they literally keep the band afloat)

Geto: oboe. This one's a little harder for me to explain, but canonically he's just as exceptional and skilled as Gojo but more overlooked just because Gojo has two super special techniques. To be an oboe player, you have to be pretty dedicated to your instrument and good at it. The same isn't said for trumpet but I think Gojo also plays Oboe in class, just prefers trumpet while marching

Utahime: tuba. My sister actually plays tuba, and they're very important to the band. They're often very overlooked, but their written parts are integral to the overall music. Also according to my sister the tubas and trumpets have some beef so... yeah

Haibara: clarinet. Almost every single clarinet player I know is extremely friendly, talkative, and outgoing. It's not a necessarily hard instrument and it's often one of the most popular, but they're very social people. I think he'd be a great section leader :')

Nanami: trombone. Many of the trombone players I've met are very level headed people. They know what they want out of life and keep to themselves for the most part. I have personal beef with them but we aren't gonna get into that. Otherwise it just felt like the one that fit the most for someone as collected as him

Kusakabe: I'm actually gonna go an interesting path here so stay with me. We're gonna make him one year older and have him coach the Color Guard. As a CG graduate my section was pretty self-reliant, we didn't really need our coach that much. As soon as we had our choreography it was pretty much up to the captains to organize and lead sectionals, and I think Kusukabe's lazy bum would be more than cool with that. He'd be killer with the rifle and saber tossing, probably made it to nationals or something if he competed

(Side note but Mei Mei shouldn't be allowed in Marching Band for obvious reasons)

Megumi: flue. There's two types of flutes, and Megumi falls into the first category. He's pretty quiet and reserved, but insanely talented. Pretty reflective in nature and seems to know everyone more by coincidence than by choice. Level headed, precise, and only steps in when necessary

Yuuji: bass drum. Drumlime is super team reliant, everyone needs to know their part and they have a LOT of extra hours poured into their section, but it's very rewarding to them. They're obviously some, if not, the most important people to the band in general. I think he'd be too confused with the tenor drums (cuz there's like 5 or 6 of them) and the snare just seems to tiny for him. I think he'd like that it kinda feels and sounds like a heartbeat

Nobara: saxophone. My dad's main instrument is saxophone and oh boy. I can't really imagine my girl playing anything else. They're slightly self-absorbed and are extremely argumentative people, but they sound really good if played well

Kirara: majorette. It's a time-comitment for SURE, and even though they come off as kinda pompous people it's just because they HAVE to know what they're doing and being aware of each other. I've also kinda related their batons to twinkling stars if thrown high and fast enough, which is really cool. I've also found that the majorettes often felt like they had really strict rules that sucked and I dunno. Felt very Kirara coded lol

Hakari: trombone. I'm combining the two opposing trombone personalities I've interacted with. Some other trombone players I knew were self-absorbed, a little too horny, brash, and typically uninterested. They had their silver linings, but all in all not the type of people you'd really wanna befriend

Yuuta: mellophone. Purely because french horn is his main in class instrument and you have to be incredibly talented to sound good on the french horn. Mellophone/french horn players are often friendly but reserved. Nice to everyone but has a close knit friendgroup. Also apparently french horns often get very "melancholic tunes" in music

Toge: clarinet. Lots of clarinet players are jokesters, class clowns, memers, etc. I feel like the sections would learn JSL just for him and eventually almost the entire MB does just because like. Yeah clarinets have one of the two hugest sections of the entire MB and they're pretty peaceful people

Maki: color guard! Mostly because I relate her use in weapons instead of techniques as similar to the use of flags, rifles, and sabers instead of instruments. She'd 100% switch between rifle and saber, and would despise using the flags. Less personality based with this one, but you can't tell me she wouldn't itch to throw a saber or rifle instead of playing an instrument

Panda (yes I'm including him): snare drum. We're going with mostly the comedy of this huge tall guy, like 6'4 or 6'5 guy playing the tiny drum of all things. People are constantly wondering why he doesn't play bass and he plays snare purely because it's funny and he has a good time in drumeline

Todo: tenor drums. You need to be soooooooo friggin talented to play these drums man AND very fast. I swear I can't even see the stick moving sometimes when they play. Takes a lot of self control, knowing the beat, and being firm in what you do to play well. I think these suit Todo extremely well

Momo: piccolo. ugh I feel like she'd play piccolo because wind instrument and flying lol. But also I knew quite a few stuck up and rude piccolo players so yeah

Mai: color guard but flags and rifles. She's always so upset that Maki is better than her at rifle even though she's been practicing it for longer than Maki has. She doesn't touch sabers though the balance just feels too off, and since Maki doesn't like flags Mai is great knowing she's good at something Maki isn't

Miwa: color guard. I feel like this kinda goes without saying, but between the saber, Kusakabe being the coach, and giving most sword users a position in CG, it just fits too well. This one however is more based on personality, because everyone in my section was very kind and respectful to each other. She'd probably also do flags but she could totally do saber as well and be pretty good at it

Kokichi: tuba. It's a pretty hefty instrument, they're seriously no joke. Be a cool contrast to how in this universe he can play the heaviest instrument compared to his crippled body in the JJKverse. This is also the time whereI should mention that Utahime and Kokichi are kinda similar in terms of personality and I feel like they get along well

Tsumiki (guess you weren't expecting her): clarinet. Just read previous clarinet personality descriptions and I think you'd get why I put her here

Okay it's 3 am and I'm tired. Might make a part 2 of this or something later but hopefully someone out there enjoyed reading this. Would Be very interested to hear opinions and other instrument choices 👀 talk marching band to me lol

if you have a niche sport/job/hobby it’s your sacred duty to make the most specific incomprehensible AUs with the characters you like. no more coffeeshop aus no more college aus you have to put those guys in a microbial lab. your fave is a high school english teacher. that show is about bowling now sorry. THIS IS MANDATORY!!!

[heartsbyani]

𐔌 현진 .ᐟ ꒱ ── "the art of loving you."ㅤ❀

HWANG HYUNJIN! ⓘ when your artistic boyfriend wants to use you as his muse for the first time . . (,,>ヮ<,,)!

⌣ ﹒ ✿ ﹕ 𝑏f!hyunjin ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader ˙ . ꒷ g. fluff , pure love ! 33OOwc. ⎯⎯ Yᗩᑎi's ᒪIᗷᖇᗩᖇY ⟢ cw. nicknames , kisses , intimacy , jokes. ┆ 🐇 ⋮ an original drabble .ᐟ ֹ ₊

𝑦𝑎𝑛𝑖'𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑙 𓈒 𓈒 ⭑ huhuhuhu i wrote this in the span of an hour. minus the formatting. i love love so much :( i love hyunjin so much :( i cried writing this sorry. mostly written for my hun, ishi. i know life isn't the best right now, but here's a lil' something that might help you be a bit more at ease! apologies if it isn't very effective though. love you! happy reading <3

the apartment smelled like faint lavender and the lingering sweetness of the vanilla candle she had burned earlier. a warm, golden haze from the late afternoon sun spilled in through the sheer curtains, pooling on the wooden floors, stretching shadows long and lazy.

the world outside hummed softly—distant car horns, the occasional laughter of neighbors, the rhythmic tapping of a tree branch against the window. inside, everything was still.

cozy.

wrapped in the kind of silence that only felt peaceful, never empty.

hyunjin had been staring at her for a while now, perched on the couch with his sketchbook in his lap, his pencil resting against his bottom lip. he wasn’t even pretending to be subtle. every few seconds, his fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach for her but thought better of it.

she was curled up at the other end of the couch, distracted by the book in her hands, knees tucked to her chest, one sock slipping off her foot.

he liked her like this.

relaxed.

unfiltered.

beautiful in the way that people are when they don’t know they’re being watched.

he swallowed. his heart was already tumbling over itself.

he had been thinking about it for days now. weeks, even. the idea had planted itself in his mind like a stubborn seed, refusing to be ignored. i want to capture her.

it wasn’t just a want. it was an ache. a pull.

he had sketched her before—messy, thoughtless doodles in the corners of napkins and on the backs of receipts, quick little impressions of the way her hair fell, the way her lips curved when she was deep in thought. but this—this would be different.

this time, he wanted her to be his muse.

he exhaled through his nose, shifting slightly. she finally looked up, blinking at him, and he panicked—like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

"what?" she asked, voice soft with amusement.

hyunjin hesitated. his fingers drummed against his sketchbook. "nothing," he mumbled, glancing away.

a pause.

then she nudged his thigh with her foot. "liar."

he huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. she always saw right through him.

for a moment, he debated brushing it off, pretending like it wasn’t clawing at his insides. but he knew he couldn’t. not with her.

so he bit his lip, gathering his thoughts, before finally exhaling.

"i want to paint you."

the words hung between them, stretching the air thin.

she blinked again, tilting her head. "what?"

hyunjin sat up straighter, shifting so he was fully facing her now, sketchbook balanced on his knee. his fingers curled over the edges of it, gripping it like a lifeline.

"i—i've been thinking about it for a while," he confessed, voice quieter now, like he was scared of startling the moment. "i want to paint you. properly. like… really take my time with it."

she didn’t respond immediately, just studying him. he could see the gears turning in her head.

"you want to paint.. me?" she repeated, as if testing the weight of it on her tongue.

hyunjin nodded. "yeah."

he couldn’t quite read her expression. he wasn’t sure if she liked the idea or not, and the uncertainty sent something anxious skittering through his chest.

"you don’t have to say yes," he added quickly, fingers tightening around his sketchbook.

"i just—i think you’re beautiful. and i want to capture you. not just your face but… you. the way you exist. the way you are."

there it was again—that ache. that pull.

she was silent for another beat, then a small smile played at her lips. "that’s very romantic of you."

hyunjin exhaled a breathy laugh, relieved by her teasing tone. "i am very romantic, actually."

she hummed, pretending to consider. "i don’t know… what if you make me look ugly?"

he scoffed immediately, reaching out to flick her knee. "impossible."

she giggled, pulling her legs away.

hyunjin watched her for a second, then, quieter, more vulnerable—"you’ll do it?"

she held his gaze. and then she nodded.

"yeah," she murmured. "of course. i'll be yours in whatever way you need."

hyunjin's entire body melted. his shoulders dropped, his fingers loosened, his breath left him in one long, relieved exhale. a slow, glowing grin stretched across his face, dimples appearing, eyes crescented with something soft and adoring.

"you really will?"

she rolled her eyes, but her smile was fond. "yes, baby."

baby.

his heart stumbled over itself again.

before she could react, he was already leaning forward, hands finding her waist, pulling her into him. she laughed as she tumbled into his lap, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

"hyunjin—"

"thank you," he murmured, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder, voice muffled against her skin. "you have no idea how much i wanted this."

she softened, fingers threading through his hair. "i think i do."

hyunjin smiled against her skin. his hands rested against the small of her back, warm and secure, holding her like something precious. because she was.

and now, he could finally capture her the way he saw her.

the apartment smelled different today.

not drastically—just subtly altered, the way a shift in seasons feels. the usual traces of lavender and vanilla were still there, clinging to the air like a familiar embrace, but now they mingled with the crisp scent of stretched canvas, the faint musk of oil pastels, and the distinct earthiness of paint—thick, rich, waiting.

hyunjin had been preparing for this all morning.

sunlight pooled through the wide windows, gilding the hardwood floors in a lazy sprawl. the apartment was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of fabric as he adjusted the sheets draped over their couch to protect it from accidental paint smudges.

his art corner—his sanctuary—was usually a little more chaotic, but today, everything was placed with care. he wanted the space to feel right. to feel like it could hold something sacred.

at the center of it all, his easel stood tall, an untouched canvas waiting, patient and expectant.

his brushes were lined up beside it, freshly cleaned, their wooden handles smooth beneath his fingertips as he traced over them absentmindedly. next to them sat his palette, dappled with early mixes of color—soft beiges, warm caramels, a whisper of rose.

he had mixed those shades by memory alone. he knew the way she looked under sunlight, the way her skin carried warmth like a secret.

now, all he needed was her.

the guy straightened, glancing toward the hallway just as she appeared, wrapped in one of his oversized sweaters.

his breath caught.

she always stole his clothes, and he always let her. he liked the way she looked in them—how the sleeves hung past her wrists, how the fabric swallowed her just enough to make her look small, but never lost. she looked comfortable. at home. and something about that made his chest ache in the best way.

"you done?" she asked, voice still laced with sleep, soft and warm at the edges.

he smiled.

"almost," he murmured, crossing the room. his hands found her waist instinctively, fingers slipping beneath the hem of his sweater, tracing over her skin. "but first, let’s make you comfortable."

she raised an eyebrow, "is that an excuse to undress me?"

"partly."

she rolled her eyes, but there was no real protest as he gently peeled the sweater off her, leaving her in just a simple tank top and shorts.

hyunjin hummed in approval, fingers trailing over her shoulders, brushing against her collarbone.

"perfect," he murmured.

she let out a soft laugh, tilting her head. "you haven’t even posed me yet."

he smiled, but he didn’t answer right away. instead, he took her hand, guiding her toward the chair he had placed near the window—where the sunlight would catch her just right.

"i want you to be natural," he said softly. "just be comfortable. let me see you the way i always do."

she settled into the chair, shifting slightly, and he stepped back, studying her.

he had painted people before. strangers, muses, faces he barely knew but found interesting enough to capture. but this—this was different. this wasn’t just painting a face. this was capturing a feeling. a presence.

his fingers twitched, itching to start.

she watched him, tilting her head slightly. "how do you want me?"

he swallowed. his gaze softened.

"just like that," he murmured.

she held still, trusting him, and something in his chest tightened.

slowly, he stepped closer, fingertips grazing her cheek, tilting her head just slightly. his thumb traced the curve of her jaw, lingering at the hinge where her pulse thrummed beneath his touch. then, his hands drifted down, adjusting the way her shoulders rested, the way her hands settled in her lap. every movement was careful, reverent.

"there," he breathed. "stay like that."

she held his gaze, steady and sure. "okay."

he let out a slow exhale, stepping back. his hands found his brushes, and then, finally, he began.

the first strokes were light, tentative. the foundation of something much bigger. his focus narrowed, the world outside of this moment falling away. it was just her and the canvas, and the quiet, steady rhythm of his breathing.

he traced the shape of her first—soft lines, delicate curves. her shoulders, the slope of her neck, the gentle angles of her collarbones. then, slowly, he worked his way up—capturing the arch of her brow, the fullness of her lips, the way the light kissed her skin.

hyunjin didn’t just see her—he felt her.

every touch of paint was a memory, every brushstroke an echo of the way he adored her. the way she looked when she laughed, when she was lost in thought, when she reached for him in the middle of the night, half-asleep but seeking.

she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

and now, she would live on his canvas, exactly as he saw her.

...minutes melted into hours.

the apartment existed in a bubble of stillness, broken only by the soft drag of bristles against canvas and the occasional shift of fabric as she adjusted her posture. hyunjin barely noticed time slipping through his fingers; he was lost in the rhythm of creation, in the steady pull of something deep and unspoken.

she remained patient, quiet but present, watching him work.

at some point, she broke the silence. "you’re really taking your time with this."

he didn’t look away from the canvas, but a small smile played at his lips. "of course. you deserve to be painted slowly."

her lips parted slightly, caught off guard. then she exhaled a soft laugh. "that might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said."

his gaze flickered to her then, his brush hovering midair. "i say romantic things all the time."

she hummed. "you do. but that one made my heart flutter a little."

hyunjin grinned. "good."

he went back to painting, his eyes flickering between her and the canvas. the room had dimmed slightly, the sun lower now, casting long golden streaks across the floor. the light touched her cheekbones in a way that made him pause, his fingers tightening around the brush.

"hold still," he murmured, stepping closer.

she obeyed, but her brows lifted slightly in curiosity.

hyunjin reached out, fingertips barely brushing the corner of her mouth. he tilted her chin, his touch featherlight, tracing the outline of her lips with nothing but air between them.

"you have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?" he murmured.

her breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away. "w—"

"you don’t," he cut in gently, thumb ghosting over her bottom lip before he stepped back. "you’re always so effortlessly perfect, and you don’t even realize it. that’s why i want to paint you. so you can see yourself the way i do."

a moment passed.

she swallowed, something unreadable flickering across her face. then, softly, "i don’t think anyone has ever looked at me the way you do."

hyunjin’s throat tightened.

he knew he was staring too much, that his emotions were slipping into the air between them, heavy and unguarded. but he couldn’t help it.

"i love you," he said simply.

her lips parted again, but this time, she didn’t try to deflect. she just let the words settle, her eyes softening as a slow, glowing smile spread across her face.

"i love you too."

he inhaled deeply, letting it fill his chest. then, shaking off the moment before he could get too distracted, he gestured toward the canvas. "now stay still, my muse. i have work to do."

she giggled, settling back into position.

hyunjin returned to his easel, but his mind was still full of her.

brushstroke after brushstroke, he captured the softness of her gaze, the delicate slope of her nose, the warmth in her expression. he mixed colors carefully, making sure her skin glowed the way it did under sunlight, the way it did when she laughed, the way it did when she looked at him like he was the only thing in the world.

hours passed like this—soft conversations, lazy teasing, moments of silence that weren’t empty but full of something warm and steady.

eventually, she sighed, stretching her arms above her head. "hyun, my legs are falling asleep."

he blinked, coming back to reality. "oh—wait, don’t move yet."

she groaned playfully. "i’m dying."

"you’re not dying."

"i might be."

hyunjin laughed, but he set his brush down, stepping closer again. he crouched in front of her, hands gliding up her legs, massaging gently. "here," he murmured. "better?"

she melted instantly. "mmm. yeah."

his thumbs pressed into her calves, slow and firm. "you were so patient for me," he murmured. "thank you."

she peeked down at him, her fingers threading through his hair. "always."

he exhaled through his nose, closing his eyes briefly at her touch. then, without thinking, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her knee. just because he wanted to.

she stilled slightly, then her fingers curled against his scalp.

"hyunjin."

he looked up, his hands still resting on her legs. "yeah?"

her gaze softened. "can i see it?"

his heart did something funny in his chest.

he stood, suddenly nervous, rubbing the back of his neck. "it’s not finished yet."

she reached for his hand, squeezing gently. "that’s okay."

he hesitated, then nodded. slowly, he stepped aside, letting her stand and move toward the easel.

her eyes widened slightly.

for a long moment, she said nothing, just taking it in.

he chewed on his lip, waiting. "do you like it?"

she turned to him then, and he almost staggered back at the look on her face.

she wasn’t just smiling. she wasn’t just admiring.

she was looking at him the way he looked at her.

like he was something to be treasured.

like she had never felt so loved in her entire life.

"hyunjin," she breathed. "it’s… it’s beautiful."

hyunjin let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

then, before he could say anything, she was in his arms, burying herself into his chest, wrapping around him like she belonged there.

he closed his eyes, arms curling around her, holding her impossibly close.

"it’s you," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair. "exactly the way i see you."

and that was all he had ever wanted to do.

...she didn’t let go.

even when the painting stood in front of her like a quiet confession, even when her eyes were still drinking in every delicate brushstroke, she couldn’t bring herself to step away from her lover.

instead, she pressed her face into his chest, arms tightening around his waist.

hyunjin chuckled, his palm smoothing over her back. "baby," he murmured. "aren’t you gonna keep looking?"

"i’ve seen enough," she mumbled, voice muffled against his sweater. "it’s too much."

his brows furrowed slightly. "too much?"

she nodded, inhaling deeply—his scent, the warmth of him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "hyunjin, my boyfriend, the love of my life, the most dramatic artist to ever exist—"

he snorted. "oh, here we go."

"—has painted me with so much love that i might actually pass out. and it's-"

hyunjin grinned, resting his chin atop her head. "please don’t pass out. i’d have to catch you, and we’d both go down, and then you’d blame me."

"i would. because it would be your fault."

he hummed. "i love how you admit it so easily."

she lifted her head slightly, just enough to peek up at him. her eyes were still shimmering, lined with something fragile. but her lips curled, soft and fond.

"hyunjin, you love me so much," she whispered.

his breath hitched.

he wasn’t sure what it was—maybe the way she said it, like a realization, like an overwhelming truth she was only just coming to terms with. maybe the way she was looking at him, wide-eyed and almost awed, as if she couldn’t believe how much love she was receiving.

but something inside him ached.

he lifted a hand to cup her cheek, brushing his thumb over her skin. "of course i do," he murmured. "you didn’t know?"

she swallowed, her lashes fluttering. "i did— but i didn't think it'd be this.. much!"

"then why do you look like you’re about to cry?"

her lip wobbled. "because—because i love you so much too, and you just—you love me so much, hyunjin, it’s ridiculous."

his heart squeezed.

and then she was rambling, as if the words couldn’t come out fast enough, as if they’d been sitting in her chest, waiting for this moment.

"my boyfriend loves me so much that he paints me like i’m the most precious thing in the world," she whispered, blinking rapidly. "my boyfriend loves me so much that he stares at me like i’m art before i even become art."

the guy bit his lip, trying to fight the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"my boyfriend loves me so much that he took hours to mix the perfect shade for my skin, because he wanted me to glow exactly the way i do in his eyes. my boyfriend loves me so much that he barely blinked the entire time, like he was memorizing me all over again."

she sniffled, voice wobbling. "my boyfriend loves me so much—"

hyunjin burst into laughter.

she gasped, offended. "hyunjin!"

"i’m sorry," he wheezed, pressing his forehead against hers, shoulders shaking. "you’re just—" another laugh bubbled out of him. "you’re so cute, baby. you’re literally giving a whole monologue right now."

her cheeks burned. "it’s not my fault! i’m emotional!"

he softened instantly, his laughter fading into something gentler. "i know," he murmured, tilting her chin up. "i love that you are."

she huffed, her lips pursing, but her eyes were still damp. "well, you did this. this is your fault."

"yeah?" his thumb brushed over her cheek, catching the faintest trace of moisture. "then let me take responsibility."

and before she could say anything else, he kissed her.

soft. slow. full of everything he couldn’t put into words.

her hands curled into his sweater, and he felt her melt, felt her sigh against his lips, felt the warmth of her love spilling into the space between them.

when he pulled back, she blinked up at him, dazed.

"you’re not real," she whispered.

he laughed again, quieter this time. "neither are you."

she exhaled, leaning in to press her face into the crook of his neck.

for a long moment, they just stood there, wrapped up in each other, the painting forgotten in the background.

then, in a whisper—"thank you."

he smiled, his arms tightening around her. "you don’t have to thank me."

"yes, i do." she pulled back just enough to look at him. "for painting me. for looking at me like that. for loving me like this."

his heart swelled.

he kissed her forehead. "always."

she sighed dreamily, resting against his chest again.

and just like that, time slowed.

there was no rush, no urgency—just them, bathed in the golden remnants of daylight, wrapped in love, in laughter, in warmth.

just them, in their little world, where hyunjin’s brush had captured her beauty, but his love had captured her heart.

⤿ 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝘵𝑒𝑟𝘵𝑎𝑔. @its-stayville-forever @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @shotngun @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld @urlocalmultigroupfan @ashtxrie @minlixyaoi @shuuporanglinos — fill out this form to be added !! ✶

comments, likes, asks and reblogs are always appreciated !! req. are officially closed till the month of june. thank you for reading, hope you liked it <3

[cozmic-ash]

just two days since the mainframe went down and I'm still messed up

room feels like a meat freezer I dangle in like cold cuts

--

I've actually had the sketch for this for like a year but I was recently exposed to Sleep Token and I LITERALLY CAN'T STOP listening to this song which makes me think Doug Thoughts (tm) so

semi-annual Rattmann portrait :)

I very much had this old piece from 2012 in my head while I was doing the new one, even though they're very different (in, uh, several ways lmao). Maybe kind of a spiritual successor, as seems to be a common thing I end up doing with these portraits

[stevesgother]

Can you do something with Steve x pregnant! reader? Maybe fluff to smut or insecure pregnant! reader to smut? Idk I’m babbling, I love your writing btw!!

18+

mmmm i love this! i feel like steve would literally be at your every beck and call while you're pregnant. you're carrying precious cargo, like, of course he'd want to make sure you're as comfy as possible.

it'd be well into the middle of the night, and you just can't fall asleep. every position causes one part of your body or another discomfort--

your constant tossing and turning rouses the sleeping man next to you, but rather than being annoyed for the early wakeup call, he's concerned.

"can't sleep, baby?" Steve asks groggily from beside you.

"just can't get comfortable," you sigh in response, "my back kills."

he shuffles closer-- the musky scent of sleep and something ineffably steve invading your senses. his calloused hands begin to rub firmly up and down the column of your back and over the hills of your shoulders and you noticeably relax into him.

"this helping?" he asks.

"mhm," you nod, gratefully, "thank you, stevie,"

"'course," he says and continues his ministrations on your exhausted muscles. you can feel the hardness of his morning wood pressing into your backside, but he makes no attempt to initiate anything intimate with you. he simply continues massaging you in an attempt to ease your discomfort.

heat pools low in your belly at the thought of him hard under his boxers-- only a one, thin layer of fabric separating you. your hormones have been all out of wack the past few weeks, having just began your second trimester.

without so much as speaking, you take his hand in yours-- halting his movements over your shoulders. slowly, so slowly, you guide his hand to where your arousal is collecting between your thighs. he stifles a groan upon feeling how wet you are for him.

he begins placing languid, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive spots just below your ear, "need something else, baby?" he asks, and you can feel the grin on his face growing against your skin.

you sigh at the sensation, "just you."

"yeah? need me to tire my girl out?" steve questions as he gently ruts his hips against your ass-- making it all the more apparent just how much he wants you.

his middle and index finger slip below the trim of your cotton panties, idly circling your clit in slow, relaxed motions. you release an airy whine at the feeling, circling your hips in time with his fingers to encourage him to keep going.

"that feel good, honey?" steve asks, voice husky and low in your ear, sending a chill down your spine and blood straight to your core.

"yes," you whisper in the stillness of the room, "god--don't stop,"

he picks up his pace just slightly, the hand under your neck curls around to play with your breasts-- swollen and attention-starved. his deft fingers gently pinch and roll your nipple through your sleep shirt, eliciting a moan from your lips.

"need more, steve," you pant into the empty space in front of you.

"you want my cock or my fingers, baby?" he sounds more desperate than he did minutes ago, though you can tell he's trying hard to maintain his composure. you think he must be leaking like a sieve behind the cotton of his boxer briefs.

"need you to fuck me like this," you whine, needy as ever. steve wastes no time ridding himself of his underwear, taking his length into his hand and pumping a few times before sliding the head of his cock through your slick.

"god-- you feel so good. so beautiful carrying our baby," he praises in your ear, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin. steve had never made you feel anything less than stunning, even when you felt bloated and crampy from pregnancy. to him-- you were as gorgeous as gorgeous could be.

he takes your leg and carefully guides it behind you and over his hip-- opening you up for him and effectively entangling himself with you.

"just relax, sweetheart," he instructs as he slowing sheaths himself on you cunt, "i've got you."

you can't help the small cry that escapes when he's fully seated inside you. steve keeps a firm grip on your thigh, seeing to it that you don't expend any unnecessary energy holding it up for him as he picks up his pace-- sliding with ease in and out of your entrance.

"feels so good, stevie," you whine, "just like that, oh--"

the springs of your mattress squeak quietly underneath your bodies and he continues thrusting into you. steve had always been well-endowed, but you've been infinitely more sensitive since you became pregnant-- something your obgyn had warned you about. your orgasms arrive quicker and more powerfully than they ever have before, and you find yourself lasting for half the time you used to.

"can feel you gettin' tighter, baby," steve says through gritted teeth from behind you-- trying to stave off his own release, "you gonna come for me? huh?"

"yes!" you shout, "don't stop--" turning your head to capture his lips in a kiss over your shoulder. one of your hands moves to grasp the hair at the nape of his neck, securing his lips against yours.

"touch yourself." steve commands, sweaty foreheads pressed together and panting into one another's mouths.

you own shaky fingers travel south to where your achy clit begs for some stimulation. the second your fingers begin circling it, the white-hot pleasure of your impending orgasm floods you from head to toe.

"steve!" you cry out as your body tenses, then relaxes around him.

"good girl," steve pants into your skin, as his thrusts falter. he'd only been holding off for you to finish, "love you--fuckin' love you, baby,"

two more ruts of his hips and he's spilling into you with a strangled moan-- thighs shaking where they're tangled with yours. you're both silent as you come back down to earth; the only sounds in the room are your combines labored breathing.

you turn around fully to face a flushed and sweaty steve. even in the dark of your bedroom you can tell his cheeks and neck are a beat-red.

"you tired yet?" he asks, chuckling wearily.

"I don't know..." you lilt, "could go for round two in a few minutes."

he gives a playful roll of his eyes, "c'mere, you heathen."

you laugh and nuzzle into his chest-- the thatch of hair there damp and tickling your cheek.

he leans down to kiss the crown of your head, "goodnight, my love." you can tell by the sound of his voice that he's already dozing off again. you feel a pang of jealously that he's able to drift off so easily, but the feeling is quickly overcome with the pure adoration you have for him.

"goodnight, stevie."

you sleep soundly until noon the next day.

[theprplcooki]

"3 days makes sense. Heck, even a week" The looming thing said over my head.

"But a month is pushing it"

I sit up, look around and my gaze lands on the clock.

"You had literally all of eternity and you picked 5 in the morning?" I say with the most indignant tone that I could muster.

"So, you are aware that you have literally all of eternity to do something. But you choose sleep" says the now very clear figure of a tall man.

"Have you never heard of the term 'Sleep Debt'. I have been working the nightshirt on top of taking care of my younger sibling." yawning while rubbing my eyes. "So I'm guessing you're the ..... god? That put me in this time loop"

"God? Hah! Flattering, but no. I'm what you would call a fae"

"Where's the wings"

"Really? Stereotype much? "

"Hey, just asking"

The fae brings the rolly chair from my desk and sits down, head in his hands.

Then, a thought pops into my head.

"So, may I have your name. I would like to add that you barging into my house seems to be in breach of a couple of hospitality rules."

"Nice try. You can call me Philip. And, no. You have a very nice large 'Welcome' mat at your front door. I took it literally"

I laugh and shrug.

"Well, if you're going to keep me awake at this hours I'm going to get coffee"

I stand up, pull on a shirt and head to the kitchen. Philip follows behind me while rubbing his face.

"Okay, I'm going to be real. The only reason you got this time loop thing is because you said that you wanted this"

"When, pray tell, did I ever utter the words 'Trap me in a time loop' ?"

"You didn't say that. If I remember correctly, it was more along the lines 'I would kill for the time to fix my life' "

I pause, the coffee cup at my lips.

"When did you hear that ?"

"At the coffee shop"

"But, I didn't even kill anything?"

"You really don't recognise me? You killed the spider for me."

"That was not you, that was a much more nice looking person"

"Excuse you, I've had to stay up monitorring your ass. Just in case you decide to do something interesting"

"Okay, hold your horses. Aren't I technically fixing my life by taking a huge ass nap?"

"I mean... yeah. But, don't you want to do anything else? I've had to keep it up an extra 3 weeks because you already filled the requirements"

"I mean you could keep it up as long as your ... powers? Magic? Whatever. Whatever allows you to keep this thing up."

"I've got a day left, that's why I came here."

"Well ... the kid doesn't come here until 1:00 p.m. I can think of one way I could fix my life"

"What"

I say nothing and walk back into my room

The Fae that trapped you in a Groundhog Day-style time loop is extremely frustrated that you’re taking advantage of the situation to just sleep all day, every day.

[romancherry]

caged in silk (3) — picnic date

pairings ➝ dark!joel miller x dark!javier peña x dark!marcus acacius x female!reader

summary ➝ a nice picnic during a perfect sunny day is turned into something unexpected when javier starts to seduce you. and when he is done, it's joel's job to clean it up.

warnings ➝ explicit smut, soft!dark content, fingering, oral (f!receiving), pussy eating, squirting, overstimulation, heavy praise kink, breast play, nipple play, pet names (especially good girl), guiding and talking reader through orgasms, kissing and making out, all of this happens out in the open in their backyard so it's immoral public behaviour, dirty talk, swearing, 18+, MINORS: DO NOT INTERACT.

word count ➝ 4.900

author's note ➝ hello everyone i'm back with another update on this story! never thought i'd make it lol. i've been busy with college and my inspiration dimmed but i finally gathered the time necessary to write another chapter. it's a bit on the longer and more descriptive side. i tried my best to incorporate every detail i had imagined and i hope i didn't confuse you. if you enjoyed this, please leave a comment or repost! my heart fills with love every time i read your supportive reactions 🩷

do NOT repost, reupload, translate or plagiarize my work.

it had been a week since your failed escape attempt. a week since you had fought tooth and nail, trying to slip away from them, only to be caught and dragged right back where you belonged. 

you had been defiant, full of fire, spewing curses at them and threatening to make their lives hell. but now? now, you peacefully sat between them in the backyard. 

a picnic. their attempt at smoothing things over, at making you comfortable. 

the checkered blanket beneath you was soft, and the spread they had laid out was impressive: lemonade, fresh fruit, cheese and pastries, along with some beer bottles for them to enjoy. 

it was domestic, almost normal. if someone looked from the outside, they’d think this was just a group sharing a lazy afternoon together.

but you knew the truth. 

javier sat on your left with a protective hand resting on your thigh, thumb lazily tracing circles over your bare skin. marcus was across from you, sitting comfortably on a folding chair, reading a newspaper through his sunglasses with a beer in his hand. and joel was just a few feet nearby, tending to a couple of pork ribs on the grill.

it was almost laughable how much they tried to make you feel content here. it’s absurd how they went back to playing house after filling your mind with honeyed threats. don’t try to run again, sweetheart. it won’t end well for you. your place is with us. you belong here, you just don’t see it yet. 

“you’re awfully quiet, sweetheart,” joel said, turning his head towards where you and javier laid on the blanket, studying you.

you stabbed your fork into a piece of fruit, shoving it into your mouth before responding. “what am i supposed to say?” 

“attitude,” marcus warned.

“looks like someone’s feisty today,” javier teased, and you could peak with the corner of your eye just how smug and amused his smirk was displayed on his stupid face.

“why don’t you try an’ relax, hm? it’s a beautiful day, baby. sunshine ‘n all,” joel suggested. and he wasn’t wrong. today’s weather is indeed the only reason to smile. the grass is greener, butterflies are in the air, the sunrays are glowing upon you, making your eyes hurt a little. the colours are vibrant and the ocasional breeze makes it a little easier to breathe through the smell of barbecue and smoke.

too bad the company’s ruining everything. this would’ve normally been the perfect day for you if you hadn’t been in the presence of your captors who changed the course of your life drastically and expected you to fall in line quickly. bend and mold to their every decision and routine while learning to not cross their boundaries.

“what’s in that pretty little head of yours, darling?” javier interrupted your train of thought, his hand smoothing over the plump flesh of your thigh, a bit too uncomfortable for your liking. “i don’t like seeing that frown on your beautiful face,” he added, his words almost genuine. with his hand still warming your thigh, his other hand came up to brush a stray hair off your face and lock it behind your ear, revealing more of your cheek to him.

“eres tan hermosa, mi amor,” he whispered sweetly, and you just realized how close he got to you.

you slightly and carefully turn your head in his direction, and your nose almost brushes his. his gaze immediatelly follows your mouth and studies your anxious breathing. the way your throat barely constricts when you swallow. how you try to make yourself seem unaffected by his presence; not only the warmth and confidence he emanates, but how he’s so open with his desire and admiration for you just by the expression of his eyes alone.

his eyes slowly rise to meet yours, and before you can shy away from the overwhelming eye contact, he gently cups your cheek and brings your lips to his.

your shock comes to life through a light squeak, a sensible moan, and javier proudly swallows it whole. he doesn’t wait for you to give him permission. the moment his tongue breaks the barrier of your lips and meets your own, his chest fills with lust.

he kisses you like he’ll never get another chance; greedy, passionate, posessive. he makes love to your mouth, worships your tongue and ocasionally moans shamelessly at how warm and familiar you feel, like you’ve done this a thousand times before. he laps at every inch you didn’t willingly give; teeth crashing, lips burning, noses touching – and before you can stop yourself, your hand unconciously grabs his shirt, and his body moves itself by instinct, scooting impossibly closer to yours, searching for more. demanding more.

he forces himself to break the kiss, and he does it so annoyingly slow. his teeth drag your bottom lip with him as if daring you to seek his touch further. his lips completely depart from yours and create distance between you.

his eyes run over your every feature, taking in your shaken state. you’re obviously dizzy and flustered, your glossy eyes and slightly red cheeks giving you away to his predatory gaze.

“seems like someone’s having fun,” marcus breaks the silence, the deep, intimidating tone in his voice snapping you out of the trance javier put you in.

you can see in the corner of your eye that joel’s attention shifted as well, from the preparation of the meal on the grill to the heated situation between you and his younger brother.

you search for a glimpse of jealousy and posessiveness in his gaze, but you don’t find any. he looks… interested. amused. curious to see if you will let your guard down again.

his eyes roam over your body and analyze the slight tremble in your naked thighs. you silently curse them for the creativity they put into choosing the delicate sundress for you today. yellow, thin… questionably short.

you realize the choice for your attire is no sudden coincidence. they planned on making you give in. how much, you didn’t know. it was up to them to decide on how many bricks they were going to knock out of your walls. their games of seduction were limitless, and if you weren’t careful… if you let them have their way with you – you know they’ll absolutely ruin you. and you didn’t want that. didn’t want them to have that power on you.

you snap out of deep thought and carefully shimmy away from javier’s body. but he’ll have none of that.

“where are you going, princesa?” javier asks, placing his hand on your thigh. he doesn’t need to apply any pressure to let you know you can’t go anywhere further.

“nowhere,” you fake confusion in your voice, trying to hide your true intention. trying to hide the fact that you indeed wanted to get away from his overwhelming attention.

of course your lies couldn’t get past him. he’s a former agent, for fuck’s sake. if you’re searching for a master manipulator in this house, first person you think of is javier peña. you play his games; he doesn’t play yours.

“now, now, hermosa… you gave me a taste, you know you can’t leave me like this,” he taunts, his intentions clear.

“what would you want me to do?” you question, your irritated tone making it clear you won’t break easily. that you’re not his puppet, his personal hooker that he payed for in order to forget about his problems.

“attitude, sweetheart. watch your tone,” marcus warns. of course he had to lecture you.

“it’s alright, brother,” javier excuses you. he is being suspiciously sweet. “i don’t think our sweetheart meant any harm. did you, baby?” his question is a test. a subtle dare – act impulsively on your frustration and feel the consequences. play his game, by his rules – and maybe you’ll have a shot. maybe you’ll rise in his eyes; make him proud. make yourself worth accounting for next time marcus wants to teach you a lesson.

“no. i meant no disrespect,” you comply. and you don’t miss the growing smile on javier’s face.

“good girl. very good girl,” he appreciates, running his hand through your flowing hair as gentle as possible. a gesture of kindness. a praise. a glimpse of what could happen – what could be – if you choose to submit. “why don’t you come sit between my legs, hm, baby? you’ll be more comfortable here.”

his invitation makes your stomach turn in disgust. you know what he wants, what he seeks. he moves his legs apart to make room for you and you don’t let him wait, moving carefully in the space he created. you’re grateful he didn’t demand you to straddle his lap.

you place your ass as far away from his crotch as you can while you gently lay the weight of your back on his chest. you position your head on his right shoulder, urging him to cradle you, which he does. he removes the barrier your hair created between your faces, guiding it on the opposite side. his breath is heavy and heated on your cheek, and as if the situation couldn’t get more overwhelming, he sneaks his left arm around your waist, circling it, sticking your body to his, making it harder to breathe, to move, to escape him.

you need some means of grounding. a way to cope with the anxiety buzzing in your bones and boiling your blood, your patience. how dare he touch you this way? make a show of your submission and compliance in front of his brothers, for the first time ever? what does he hope to accomplish?

you gather in fists the material of the dress which innocently rests on the side of your thighs, right below the delicate curve of your hips. it’s a way supposed to help you calm down and stop anticipating what’s to come next. to sway you from the overthinking train of thought which is threatening to keep rising your panic.

javier notices the way your body tenses, and he frowns. he doesn’t like it – doesn’t enjoy the fact that you’ll think he’s going to hurt you, violate your privacy and independence. he merely wants to take care of you and help you relax. he quickly figures that maybe this isn’t the best place to do it – in front of the watchful and hungry eyes of his brothers. but he can’t take it back now. all he can try is to make the pain go away. to coax you into opening up and become vulnerable for him – for them.

“shh, baby, relax. relax,” he whispers while carefully massaging the length of your arm with the unoccupied hand. gentle strokes of his fingertips rise goosebumps in their path while going up and down, up and down, doing a better job than you expected. “don’t be afraid, i won’t hurt you. i could never hurt you,” he promises, but his words feel empty to you. meaningless. deceitful.

you feel the wet press of his lips right on your temple and you shiver. he is so gentle, too gentle. treating you like a fragile piece of ancient, romantic sculpture. he surely must think of you like that – consider you something, someone, worth protecting and appreciating. worthy of love.

“you smell divine, mi amor,” he inhales ocasionally, taking deep breaths of your scent – the floral detergent in your dress, the remnants of the shampoo and conditioner in your hair. even the natural scent of your skin, though subtle, is enough to make javier’s head spin.

his hand removes leaves your arm and trails dangerously lower, tracing the line between the bottom of your dress and the inside of your thigh. the occasionally cool breeze flows in your direction, bothering your thin dress and lifting it merely an inch off of your legs. each time that happens, you’re sure that marcus can see the center of your panties and the way they stick like second skin to your pussy, squeezing your throbbing clit.

javier struggles to hide his amused smirk each time he touches you, teases and plays with your imagination by threatening to dip his fingers lower. to enter new territory and sink between your legs to where you want him most.

“so soft, baby. soft as silk,” he murmurs into your ear, his praise followed by a gentle peck to your earlobe, “can’t believe something as sweet as you rests in my arms. you like that, baby? feel safe?” he urges you to answer, to respond in kindly to his advances so he can take your pleasure as a sign to go further.

you shudder at his honeyed praise and force to swallow a lump down your throat so you can speak. “yes,” it’s more of a moan than a proper word, “feels… nice.”

“good, baby. i’m glad you like it,” he nips at your earlobe, and the unexpected distraction presents an open door for his hand to quickly trail further down your dress and dissapear right between your legs. you only notice the sudden intrusion when you feel your body moving without your own accord – your legs slightly parting, making room for him to graze the tip of his index down the center line of your pussy, nudging your clit, and then pressing on your hole, through your panties.

you gasp in both pleasure and anxiety at the gesture, so you try to protect yourself. to shield what little dignity you have left by ending things before they progress into something worse, more serious.

in a pathetic attempt to close your legs, he intervenes by syncing the tight hold his arm has around your waist with the quick move of his feet rising from the blanket and surround your own from the inside, preventing you to close them further.

once you’re securely caged between his frame, he nudges your feet to open up more. encouraging them to move, little by little, towards the edge of the blanket. towards the exterior.

you saw this coming. and that’s even worse than being clueless and not anticipating it – because you knew what he would do, and you did nothing to stop it.

“please, javi. you said you won’t hurt me,” you pleaded, and you hated the inevitable tremble in your voice.

“poor baby, no. this isn’t what you think it is,” he reassures, his words matching his attempt at grounding and soothing you in his hold by kissing all over your temple and massaging the inside of your thigh, backing away slightly from your dripping pussy to make you feel less threatened. “i don’t want to hurt you, baby. i swear. if you let me, i’ll make you feel so, so good.”

you feel the way his heart beats against his chest, the rhythm vibrating in your backbone. he is equally anxious too; he really wants you to enjoy this. to not view it as a punishment. because even if you did nothing extraordinary to earn this treatment, you deserve to feel good too.

“i’ll make this pretty pussy so happy, sweetheart. make you happy too, happiest you’ve ever been. if you’ll just let me…” his promise ends with a pause, giving you time to think if you really want to give in.

the question is – are you stupid enough to refuse, or so weak you just approve?

is it really a sign of weakness, though? to just give in? to let yourself be caressed by him and feel the pulsing desire of his brothers who are desperately waiting for their turn?

all of this is under your control, if you think about it. they punish you for your dissapointing behaviour and shower you with affection as a reward for behaving like a proper lady. like how their proper lady should behave.

you don’t need a gun to assert dominance or make them listen. you hold their wills in the power of your hands.

“yes, javi. please,” you whisper.

“what did you say, baby? please repeat, i didn’t hear it, i swear,” he pleads with you, sounding desperate, not taunting, like before. he genuinely didn’t hear you – or he did, but he just didn’t expect you to comply so easily. so willingly.

“please, javi. wan’ you to make me happy,” you lick your lips, turning your head so your lips ghost his earlobe, and he shudders slightly at the brief contact. “make my pussy happy. pretty please?” you plead innocently, the tone of your voice rising slightly, sounding as if you’re the spoiled daughter of a rich man. pairing your encantation with the submissive doe eyes you present, you give him an impossible deal to refuse.

“good girl, baby. the best girl,” he lets out a ragged breath in relief, his fingers making quick, delicate work of arranging your panties to the side, moving the obstacle out of the way. “don’t have to ask me twice, babygirl. would do anythin’ for you and your pretty pussy.”

a surprised gasp leaves your lips as he guides two fingers through your slit from bottom to top, gathering the wetness he encountered at your entrance to the surroundings of your clit. “oh, mierda, cariño. you’re soaked. is it because of me, hmm?” he presses a kiss to the corner of your eye while rolling your clit between his index and middle finger.

“ah, yes javi. yes,” you admit shamelessly, moans blessing his ears each time your little bundle of nerves receives additional stimulation when he pinches your clit.

“that’s right, baby, sing for me,” he urges you, his patience slipping with each passing moment as his resistance crumbles. the resistance implies forcing your legs even wider, making your knees bend abruptly before shoving you full of three fingers and making you scream while squirting all over his hand and the blanket below.

your eyes go wide when he eases his middle finger inside your tight hole. you’re both surprised that the act itself met not one single obstacle; his finger just made its way in like your walls were invisible, like your pussy saw it coming and decided to expand itself to make room for him, to accommodate everything he had to give.

“please, oh fuck yes,” you moaned shamelessly now, not bothering to hide the building pleasure javier caused right in front of his brothers in their own backyard. he responded in kind, loving the way you felt so comfortable letting yourself go – letting him know you love the way he touches you.

“such a tight pussy, baby. see how she hugs my fingers? hm? imagine it was my cock instead,” another finger joins in, making it two – stuffing you full, yet you can’t get enough. “would you prefer my cock, sweet girl? do you think it’ll fit?” his teases are back, but you pay them no mind. in fact, you love them. paired with the expert moves of his fingers fucking your vagina until your eyes roll in the back of your skull – it’s fucking amazing.

a soft laugh escapes his lips when you don’t bother to answer his question. you actually can’t seem to, really – he can tell you’re on the brink of orgasm by the way your chest rises and falls and your abdomen constricts along with your toes curling.

“no, i guess it won’t fit, cariño. not when you’re this fucking tight, sweet girl. jesus fuck,” the hand which was previously surrounding your waist changes its location to your right breast, squeezing it through the fabric and causing your soft nipple to rise to a little peak. it wasn’t enough, though. he needed to feel the softness of your skin and properly pinch your nipples. so his hand makes its way to your neckline and shimmies right underneath it in a desperate hurry to cup your naked breast and feel the angry little nipple in the palm of his hand. he gives you a squeeze which is a little rougher than intended before caging your nipple between his thumb and index to give it a proper rub and twirl, making you choke on your own moan.

“yes, javi, yes! please, more! don’t stop, don’t ever stop. gonna cum so hard…” you sob, feeling your vision blur and your cheeks getting wet a second after that.

fuck, you went feral. him and his brothers are so grateful they all witnessed the fact that you’re visibly into nipple play, and not only – breast play entirely. he makes quick note of that and stuffs it deep into his memory before continuing his rough administrations to your nipple compared to the loving strokes and poundings of his fingers in your cunt.

“then cum, sweetheart. go on. go on, little dove. thaat’s right, give me what i want. let go, let go. such a sweet little girl, lettin’ me take care of her. wanna see your poor pussy cry too, baby, not just your eyes. come on, baby, soak my fingers.”

he didn’t have to tell you twice. even though the rhythm of his fingers did not (thankfully) change, keeping you right where you’ve been all along, on the bridge of bliss and orgasm, his words were enough to send you over the edge as you closed your eyes and came around his fingers violently, your whole body trembling in his careful hold in contrast to your throbbing pussy pulsing out your release, gushing around his fingers and wetting the blanket with splash after splash as he guided you all the way through it, his arm tightening around your breast, making sure you never leave this safe heaven.

after you came down from your high, your body gradually relaxed and his fingers sadly parted themselves from their home. he let you close your legs and he even pulled the bottom of your dress as low as he could afford it, since most of the material was bunched underneath your bare ass sticking embarasingly to the wet blanket.

you open up your eyes to see marcus turning his gaze from you and back to his newspaper, trying his best not to seem affected by what just happened. but you know better, and judging by the immense bulge he unsuccesfully hides from you, you just know he wants nothing more than to make his way between your legs and stuff you full of his cum until you’re left shaking. he wouldn’t even need to take down his pants all the way through from how quick it would all be over. he practically witnessed how javier struggled to fit two fingers inside your cunt – his cock would basically choke.

joel was none the wiser. he was struggling to hold back even more than marcus; his fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw clenched, mouth closed shut along with a voluminous jugular vein pulsing furiously right beneath the tanned skin.

but you caught the red in his cheeks. he was visibly flushed, nervous and needy. eager to get a taste of you.

and so he did.

you stop breathing the moment he stalks towards you with a predatory look on his face, determined to dull the curiosity, grasping for something to claim from you.

all air is suddenly knocked out of your lungs when joel kneels in front of you and manhandles your legs apart, revealing your glistening pussy to his own gaze once more. she was all puffy and a bit swollen from before, the walls around the entrance pulsing and clenching around nothing as the opening looks much more evident and even wider than a few minutes ago.

“javier treated ya well, babygirl. took care of this lil’ girl jus’ right,” joel says, his deep, dominating tone making shivers crawl up your spine. “should clean her up. can’t leave her all messy.”

it’s all he says before diving head first into your cunt and licking all the juice dripping down your thighs and pussy. your ragged moan urges him to press on, despite your desperate attempts at begging him to take it slow on your overstimulated pussy. he doesn’t give a damn about your hands tangling and pulling his hair; he thinks it’s so fucking hot and it turns him on impossibly more, his cock aching for release in the confinement of his annoying boxers.

“mmm, ‘s right. goood girl,” he moans into your pussy, the vibrations adding more intensity to your building orgasm.

“you’re gonna cum on joel’s tongue, cariño? make a mess all over his face just like you did on my fingers?” javier whispers into your ear, the hand that warmed your breast starting to stir over the plump flesh to gather attention to your tortured nipple once more.

“yes… mmm, fuck yes. p-please, feels so, so… ah!”

“shh, that’s right, babygirl. let go. give it to joel, niiice and slow, thaaat’s it.”

your second orgasm practically makes you see stars. it comes fast and unexpected, crashing over you in the blink of an eye and lasting so long you wonder if you’ve gone blind. joel’s tongue fucks in an out of you, your poor hole trying to clench onto the thick muscle in an attempt to grab him and never let him go as he patiently laps up all your release with a content hum.

he presses a gentle kiss to your clitoris when he’s done. you can’t, won’t, open your eyes again. you don’t need to look at him to know the painful look he probably has on his face because he wishes he could do it all over again. never depart his face from between your legs.

his mind races to various ways and possibilities of making you cum on his face. next time, he’ll definitely make you ride his nose while making love to your pussy with his tongue and mouth. bringing you to several orgasms until you beg for him to put you out of your misery and sink himself into your tight warmth until you’re nothing but a whimpering toy.

one day, he thinks. one day, you’ll succumb to all of their wants and desires.

because you’ll be addicted. to how they make you feel, how they take care of you. to their smell and touch. to them. it’s all just a matter of time, which you and them have plenty of. because you’re never leaving them again.

[writingoddess1125]

Not a Drop

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Black FemReader

So this is based off my Cousin (Yes we are black) and when she had her first baby. I remembered this while writing. So Enjoy! PROOF READ BY LOVELY PEOPLE

Now Please don't take this to heart its light hearted and stupid. Also working on other stuff but thought it would be cute.

You'd just arrived at your families home, it had been the first time you had allowed anyone to see your newborn son. As he had been a bit of a sick baby and you wanted time to adjust yourself. You'd been thankful for the space and also for Simon's help for the first few weeks of your child's life.

Arriving the whole family was excited to see your first born. Of course however, You wanted your dad to meet him first.

Truthfully your father was quite a.. Comedian of sorts and him and Simon shared a similar taste in terrible humor which is what made them quite close.

You pull back the little tent on the carrier showing your son. Who was in his pale blue train onsie, a matching hat and gloves.

Your Dad sits there in his chair, Looking at your baby and then back at you-

A weird look goes across your face as you don't know why he isn't saying anything. Before you dad speaks.

"...That is the whitest damn baby I've seen? The Fuck (Y/N)?"

Simon pivots to the side real fucking quick as he starts to try and hold in his laughter as hard as possible but his shoulders were shaking.

"Dad!"

"Not even a drop! You couldn't squeeze a bit of color into this boy? After all I gave you to work with"

He coos as he picks up your son who rubs his gloved hands over his face before settling against your father, You standing there slack jawed.

"H-Hes fine!" You defend now red faced as Your father shakes his head in false disappointment.

"Caucasian- Caucasoid. The darkest thing on him is the got damn train on his shirt. I dont know how the fuck you won Simon but you sure beat my ass in the gene pool"

Simon is essentially crying from silent laughter at this point, you quick to smack his arm as you peel the hat off your son showing the short tufts of curly hair.

"See! Look at his hair- He is just light skinned. Don't be an ass please?" You all but beg- however you knew you were asking too much when your Father gave a sarcastic smile.

"Yes he will darken from white to beige"

Simon wheezes at this point leaning against the closest wall. Your father gently patting your sons back and looking at the thin curls on his head.

"So you made me a Justin Timberlake 2.0 as a grandson?"

You hear your poor husband now breaking out in pure laughter doubled over as you stare at both of them angrily.

"DAD!"

[fireinmoonshot]

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Reader Summary: You're away for a few days for a work trip and even on the first night, Joaquin is making sure you know how much he misses you. Warnings: Mentions of food. Word Count: 1k A/N: I've wanted to write something regarding Joaquin + facetiming before and then I got this as a request the other day so it was perfect. I think Joaquin would be so cute in this scenario... 🥹 I adore him, my sweet angel boy.

You’re in line at the grocery store getting some things to take back to your hotel room when your phone starts buzzing. The photo on the screen, a selfie of your boyfriend that he’d taken on your phone, shows that Joaquin is trying to Facetime you. You cancel the call and quickly type out a message to him before putting your stuff up on the counter.

Sorry, baby, I can’t answer right now – in line at the grocery store xo ❤️

The phone buzzes again just as the cashier starts scanning your items and asks you how your day is going. Once you’ve paid, you check the message, smiling as you read it.

Ok…🙁

You’re away for four nights on a work trip and Joaquin is clearly already struggling having the house to himself. At first, you thought he’d enjoy the freedom of being alone… but now that you think about it, it sounds like his worst nightmare.

You reach your rental car and unlock it, climbing into the drivers seat and putting your groceries and bag on the passenger seat. Pulling your phone out from your bag, you send Joaquin another quick text to check in before heading back to your hotel.

I’m in the car now, I can call on my way to my hotel? The car has hands free.

A message from Joaquin appears seconds later. No, too dangerous. Call when u are in ur room pls, I miss u ❤️😢

You can’t help but smile at the message, sending a quick okay back to him before putting your phone in your bag, putting your seatbelt on and starting up the car. The entire drive back to the hotel, you hear your phone going off every minute or so. He says it’s too dangerous to call you via hands free but will distract you by texting you every minute… yeah, makes complete sense…

Despite your desire to check it after you park, you wait till you’re in your hotel room before getting your phone out of your bag. It would’ve been a hassle to try and read and reply to his messages while navigating the elevator and trying not to lose your room key card.

You almost laugh as you see why your phone was going off so often.

Joaquin has sent you a detailed list of everything he did today while you were gone – ever since he dropped you off at the airport at 9am right up until now at 7pm. He’s even included pictures – a variety of zoomed in photos and a couple selfies. You save them all to your camera roll. Your favourites are the one where he’s giving a thumbs up to the camera after successfully doing grocery shopping alone, another one blowing a kiss to you because he misses you and, probably the best one of all, him flipping off the microwave because it didn’t properly heat up his lunch. 

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you text him back.

Why did you send all of these? 😂 I mean, so cute, but are we not about to Facetime so you can tell me all about your day anyway, baby?

Unsurprisingly, his reply comes through instantly.

In case I had to go before u got back.

Go where? I thought you were staying in tonight.

Yea but what if Sam called and I had to go and help him save the world. 🦸🏽‍♂️

You can’t not laugh at that. Especially with the little superhero emoji. He’s adorable – so utterly adorable – and you miss him even more upon reading his words. You climb back up onto the bed so you can sit properly on it and hit the Facetime button, immediately calling Joaquin. 

He answers straight away.

“Angel,” he drags out the word as his face appears on the screen, a pout on his lips. 

“Hi baby,” you chuckle, smiling down at his face on your phone screen. “I’m glad Sam hasn’t called and asked you to come help him save the world yet.”

He grins. Through the screen, you can see that he’s laying on your bed, his face a little smushed into the pillow. He looks sleepy and you wish you were with him. “Me too,” he replies. “I miss you… how am I meant to sleep alone for four more nights? I’ve started a countdown on the fridge. I made it with post it notes. I should’ve sent a photo of it… I’ll take one tomorrow. I’m too comfy to get up right now. Did you see the photo about the microwave? I think I need to go buy a new one. It’s not working properly. And Fred, our neighbour, threw his dogs shit over our fence again earlier, so I had to go and ask him politely to stop doing it. Oh, and I did the washing but I think I pressed a button wrong cause it said it’d be three hours before it was done and I think that’s a bit too long. And–”

“Joaquin.”

You interrupt him, a smile on your face from listening to him ramble on about everything that had happened today. He blinks, his eyes focusing on the screen where your face is again. A sleepy smile makes its way onto his own face.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly.

“Don’t be,” you shake your head. “I miss you too, baby. But it’s only four nights. I’ll be home before you know it. But I’m going to hate sleeping without you too.” 

He squishes his face into the pillow a little more. “It should be illegal to separate us,” he huffs. 

“I doubt that they’d make that a law, baby.”

He groans into the pillow before sitting up a little so his face is a little more visible. “You know what should be illegal though? Microwaves that don’t heat up all your food… I mean, seriously, I put it in for like six minutes and it was still cold on the inside! It’s gotta be faulty, right, angel? Do you think I should go get another one tomorrow? Maybe ours is still under warranty. I’ll have to try and find the paperwork. Do you know where it is?”

Amused, you continue to listen to him waffle on about the microwave and several other things that had happened to him today… if this is what’s in store for your next few nights away… you’ll definitely have your hands full…

––––

Joaquín Torres Tag List (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!)

@sidkneeeee @dead-inside-but-happy @lay-lay-5 @marchingicenotes7 @phucboy @davinashifts333 @lomlbuckybarnes @laurenjbb @chansburgah @blackwidownat2814 @mischiefmanaged71 @madzlovez @marvelwitchergilmore @brittnicki @rheas-ripley @bcystar @victorsbathroomstall @giona45-5 @voodoo-tofu @happypopcornprincess 

[othernaut]

My brain isn't silent, but it's... well, okay.

So, first off, I'd like to say that this isn't an endorsement of Recreational Substances, or any use or abuse of said Substances. That said, they are going to play into the story. Sometimes, the normal symphony of neural processes like to play a single chord very, very loudly for a very, very long time; sometimes that chord is "everything sucks, you suck worst of all, let's feel pain about it"; sometimes, the only variation in the monotony is a Substance. If you've had terrible experiences with drugs or depression and don't want to read anything about them at all (or you're a cop), this is that warning.

Excellent. Let's go.

So, one night when I was much younger, after smoking a lot of weed and drinking a little bit, I found a relative's leftover codeine and chowed it down. (this is normally a bad combination, and was probably done on a Tuesday or something, but like I said, depression.) The three depressants were somehow accidentally dosed to a point where the normal, single chord of Pain was muted down to an annoying whine. This was good! It was what I wanted! The thing is, it also muted all my higher processing capabilities - speech and movement was pretty much impossible, all thought seemed to struggle up from the bottom of a vat of petroleum jelly, but that was fine, as all I wanted to do was lay back and enjoy the soft near-silence of an existence that didn't hurt so badly.

In this visibly zonked state, I found myself able to casually wander down to where my brain kept the barrier of sleep and explore the process in conscious detail. With my normal mental players now whisper-quiet, I could toe back the curtain of oblivion while still sorta conscious and observe, with memory intact, what my subconscious mind was doing down there.

To my delight, I found that it sounded like a five-year-old child telling an excitedly purposeless story with no beginning and no end.

"BUT THE UNICORN WAS LONELY AND WANTED TO BE AROUND OTHER HORSES," it said, "SO IT LAID DOWN IN THE MUD BY THE RIVERBANKS UNTIL IT SOAKED INTO ALL ITS FUR AND MANE, BUT IT WAS SO SOFT AND COOL THERE THAT IT FORGOT ABOUT ITS LONELINESS AND STAYED UNTIL THE FIREFLIES CAME OUT, AND THE FIREFLIES SPELLED OUT A SECRET WORD THAT THE UNICORN COULD REMEMBER WHENEVER IT WANTED TO CHANGE ITSELF, BUT THE RIVER REFLECTED THE WORD BACKWARDS AND THE SKY REFLECTED IT DOUBLE-BACKWARDS SO AS THE UNICORN WAS GOING TO SLEEP IT COULDN'T REMEMBER WHICH WORD WAS THE RIGHT ONE, AND THEN --"

Ceaselessly. Little subconscious hands waving around. I could pull back up and observe the world around me, with the painted drywall and stacked bills and ever-comforting night, and then dip my head behind the curtain to find the kid still going at it back there, still telling her story, forever.

Thankfully, I'm not the sort of person who has a fun time on drugs and immediately tries to do it again the next day, all the time, forever (which was also why I put the warning up ahead of time, as I know not all brains operate like that). But for someone whose Pain still and will always tell me how much I suck, how much I don't deserve to be here - it comforts me, to know that at my deepest parts, far past the point of rational thought, I'm just a little kid that wants to tell a story and never wants to stop.

Sometimes, when I meditate the right way, I can go back there and check up on her (meditation being a more reliable and accessible way to find the same effect). She's still down there, hasn't aged even a minute, still going. It's the one thing I can point to in a long lifetime of change that is truly infinite. I have the inestimable fortune of knowing who I am at my core and being able to love that little weirdo deeply and easily.

So, I don't really hear my mental processes all the time, but I know what they sound like. I've somehow gotten Pain to sit down in their assigned seat and wrestled away their volume controls - it's part of the symphony now, limited to pencilling in extra fortes when it wants to be heard. "Symphony" is actually a good metaphor - all the parts mostly play in sync, but if someone decides to randomly insert a solo or I know the piece well enough to remember the score, I can pick out the individual players. And I know who's there behind the curtain, unsupervised and, despite it all, doing okay.

Part of the reason my brain never shuts up is that I can “hear” echoes of my subconscious processing things constantly. And I do mean constantly.

There’s certain things I’m not supposed to know about up here in the conscious mind that the chemicals and the neurons are supposed to be quietly connecting together in the background but my neurons are yelling loudly in echoey hallways

I think the ADHD medication was supposed to quiet down my echoey hallways somewhat but it has done nothing of the sort. I can hear the little men working in the back room furiously trying to string concepts together like pieces from completely different puzzles and they are not subtle about it in the slightest.

[fuctacles]

<< sixteen | 😺 | eighteen >>

Wayne, while being the best uncle he's ever had, was also the worst. And not because he’s the only one Eddie knows; he'd beat any uncle Ben or Sam in a landslide. 

(Actually, if you do count Uncle Sam, Wayne might not be the worst.)

"She's a sad lady, isn't she?" he asks out of nowhere during their drive to the hospital. "Still here while everyone she knows move away."

Eddie frowns at the yellow light in front of him. 

"You're the one who told me to talk to her," he points out. He slows to a break at the intersection, the light now red, and turns towards his uncle. "Is this a ploy to keep me in Hawkins? You want me to marry and settle down?" He raises his eyebrows. As if the same fantasy didn't run through his mind at least once a day since meeting Steph. 

"Hell naw." Wayne grins at him. "I want you to live a life of your own. I know you hate this place." 

"It hated me first," Eddie reminds him.

"It's not for a wild thing like you," he agrees with a nod. "Hawkins is for old farts like me. The thing is—Green."

Eddie quickly shifts back into gear before the cars behind him start honking. 

"Stephanie seems to think she's an old fart too," Wayne finishes his thought. 

"Yeah, I've noticed," Eddie grumbles. "And what do you want me to do? Steal her away into the big city?" he jokes. 

Wayne's answering silence grows heavy in the van.

"She's a grown woman, I'm not going to uproot her life," Eddie argues a point his uncle didn't make. It's not that he doesn't want to, more like he doesn't think he has the power to do it. Besides, they just got off together once, it's way too early to make plans like that. He has been daydreaming about them, yes, but he's painfully aware of the difference between fantasy and reality. 

"You know, Jim got really into gardening recently," Wayne says apropos of nothing. 

"Okay, go on…" Eddie nods slowly, patiently.

"He told me some plants have to be uprooted to grow properly. You know, when the pot is too small? Because the roots grow too, and they need space."

The van has finally reached the hospital, so Eddie waits until they're parked to turn towards his uncle. 

"Did you just use a plant metaphor on me?" he asks, baffled. 

"I simply shared some gardening wisdom from a friend," Wayne shrugs.

"Which you just though of."

"You're the one who used the word 'uprooting'," he fires back. 

Eddie pulls the key out of the ignition with a tired sigh.

"You know, I kind of miss the fishing metaphors. They were less convincing." 

Wayne raises his eyebrows. 

"This is the rudest thing you've said to me since you told me the trout was disgusting."

"It's a terrible, stinky fish and you know it!" Eddie protests as they exit the van. 

"How is Wayne's leg?" Steph asks later that day.

"Surprisingly well. The doctor said it healed better than expected and he'll probably be cleared for work the next week."

"I'm guessing he's happy to hear that?"

"Oh, yeah," Eddie snorts. He angles his head so Steph's scratches get where he wants them. "He's been walking up the walls for the past few days, and he hated all the movies the employee at video rental recommended to him. If he doesn't go back to work soon, he'll make it everyone's problem."

Steph hums thoughtfully.

"I get it. Don't you feel restless, too? Here in Hawkins, I mean."

"Huh?" Eddie blinks his eyes open. He hasn't realized when he even closed them. "The opposite, actually. I don't have to rush anywhere, there are no midterms; I can kick back and relax, forget the responsibilities and just be Wayne's favorite nephew again." He smiles. "It's like I'm putting my life on pause for a few days. And it's kind of terrifying how easy it is."

Steph remains silent, so he takes a cautious glance towards her. She's not looking at him or the television; her eyes are distant, focused on her thoughts. 

"Everything is slow and old here, isn't it?" she muses.

"I swear to all that's unholy, if it's another opening to remind me how 'ancient' you are..."

Steph rolls her eyes and dips down to shut him up with a kiss. Unfortunately, it works perfectly in her favor. There's probably no argument against him that she couldn't win. All she has to do is press her hand against Eddie's chest, pinning him to the couch, and he can be easily persuaded into anything. 

He kisses and licks back, trying to keep up with her, but with the last remains of a logical thought, grasps at her hand to slow her down. They separate with a wet smack, but don't move more than an inch away.

"Do you want—?"

"I'm taking you—"

They both smile and shuffle away to properly look at each other. 

"Ladies first," Eddie gestures with a nod of his head. 

"Do you want to stay the night?" she blurts out quickly, with little hesitance. 

His jaw drops open and his heart stops in his chest. 

"Like... on the couch?" he asks to clarify. The other option to good to be true.

Steph rolls her eyes, and it should be embarrassing how much he likes when she does it, even at his own expense. 

"In my bed, idiot. Just to sleep, of course."

"Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming." He pinches his arm, and Steph does too, much harder. He yelps, making Arwen look at him with distaste. "Hey!"

"Do you want to?" she presses. 

"Of course I do!" he bristles. "With you, I'd take celibacy vows," he says reverently, grabbing her hand in his. 

She raises her eyebrows, and then pointedly looks him up and down.

"With you, I'd rather not."

Eddie grins despite his blush.

"What did you want to say?" she asks, pulling him back from his salacious thoughts. 

It takes him a second to reel his thoughts back on track.

"Oh. I'm taking you on a date tomorrow." He takes a glance at the clock above the TV. "Yeah, tomorrow." 

"You're taking me?" She raises an eyebrow. 

At that, Eddie quickly slides off the couch and onto his knees, her hand still clasped between his palms.

"Oh, pardon me, princess. Would you do me the honor of going out on a date with me tomorrow?" he asks, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. 

Her eyes are wide and startled, and the first thing she can even manage out of her mouth is a laugh.

"You're such a dork," she murmurs. "Yeah, it's fine, I guess." She shrugs nonchalantly. 

"Fine?" Eddie bristles, frowning. "What do you mean, fine?"

"I mean yes, you can take me on a date," she says, straightening her back to give herself a more regal posture. "I'll allow it."

He grins, and proceeds to press kisses up the length of her arm, slowly crawling back up onto the couch. 

"Thank you for giving me this privilege, your majesty. A peasant like me, ha!" He throws his head back, briefly startling Steph into another laugh. "The town folk will not believe their eyes, a simple man like me, allowed by the side of a queen." Eddie presses a final kiss to her shoulder, and sits back. As Steph stares at him, he realizes his own outburst. 

"Too much?" he asks with a sheepish smile, fierce flush taking over his cheeks. 

"Just a little," Steph admits, pinching her fingers close together. Her face is tinted pink as well. "You know..." she trails off, falling against the back of the couch, their fingers still entwined. "I hated being called a king in high school, but... Queen sounds so much better." She lets her mouth curl into a small smile. 

 "Like something precious," Eddie catches on, leaning sideways so they can face each other. "Powerful yet feminine."

"Yeah." She nods absentmindedly. 

"How about princess?" he asks next. 

Guessing from how red Steph's face has gotten, she must have liked it. Eddie grins. 

"Well then, princess, I truly hope a humble bard like me can at least make you laugh. I may not know swordsmanship, but I know my way around a lute." He waggles his eyebrows. 

Steph pushes him away with a hand to his face and he falls backwards, cackling. 

"Didn't you say you were bisexual?" she asks, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Uh... Yeah?"

"So you should know both the lute and swordsmanship.... you know?" Steph extends both her index fingers and crosses them, miming a battle as if they were tiny swords. 

Eddie stares at her blankly. 

"Are those supposed to be penises?" he asks, flabbergasted. 

"Yes." She nods confidently, putting her hands back in her lap. 

"You're perfect, holy shit." Eddie scrambles to sit back up. "You compared dick to a sword and I'm supposed to not marry you?"

She scoffs. 

"Keep at it and you'll be sleeping on the couch." 

Eddie clutches at his chest.

"Already feeling like a married man. Be still, my heart!"

"Yep, it's couch for you." She stands up with finality. 

But when he holds her wrist, she goes back down easily, sinking into a kiss. Maybe the power to win arguments went both ways.

"Fine," she folds. "But we're sharing with Garfield."

"Well, where else would he sleep?"

ko-fi | Steddie masterpost

tags: @wheneverfeasible @steddieinthesun @hattsy-likes-pretty-stuff @bumblebeecuttlefishes @phantomcat94 @tartarusknight  @tinyplanet95 @steddiefication @estrellami-1 @disrespectedgoatman @madigoround @tartarusknight @blasvemous @cryptid-system @hiei-harringtonmunson @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @dreamercec @manliest-of-muppets @bookbinderbitch @marklee-blackmore  @icecat @rootbeerandmusic @mollymawkwrites @milojames16 @ellietheasexylibrarian @sadiea20

[quarterlifekitty]

I'm very new to your blog(introduced through people I follow reblogging your work) so I've seen a few things and enjoy it a lot

Though one is always like lingering in my head and likely won't go away until I get this out(Excuse my rambling)

It's your hybrid fic with Ghost as a cougar and reader as a cat.

You don't have to make another or anything if you don't want to, but I guess I just keep wondering what happens next.

Like does Ghost stalk the house now that he's kicked out, waiting for a chance to come back in? Do Soap and Ghost ever directly interact with each other?

Stuff like that.

Have a good day/night

I’m happy you liked that one!! I thought about it last night

In the version where Soap comes in, Simon was never allowed in the house by Price. Because he’s a dangerous wild animal.

I imagine Simon stalks the edges of the property, watching his princess through the windows and seething mostly. But he also tries to make himself useful— he kills all the predators that try to get onto the property. Price hasn’t had issues with the foxes going after his chickens in months.

And he’s laying fresh kills on the doorstep. Which John does not like. It’s bloody. But… he doesn’t want to just dispose of it. Why waste it when a poor bunny gave up their life? It’s fresh and clean, so he does end up skinning it and processing it. He cooks up a healthy portion of it for you and Johnny, laying the plate in your favorite basking window.

Simon watches with interest from the tree line as you come up to sniff at the new meal. He can tell that’s the rabbit he got for you. His ears flatten and he bares his teeth to the night air when he sees Soap follow you up. That’s for mama. Not you. He expects the bastard to just dig right in anyways.

He’s surprised when Soap pushes the dish towards you, then turns around, peering out the window and scanning his eyes over the property. He’s trying to protect you while you’re eating and vulnerable— so he hasn’t lost his instinct after all, Simon thinks. Soap narrows his eyes when he sees Simon lurking in the dark, and then he smiles. You’d told Johnny about him. What he looked like.

You keep trying to offer up the food for Johnny, and he keeps smiling and shaking his head. It’s not until you yawn and leave to go by the fireplace to sleep (not before you share a sloppy kiss) that he eats up what you left behind.

Simon feels some type of way about that. His possessiveness gives way a little bit.

Meanwhile, John is having second thoughts about Simon. He can tell there’s a reason he hasn’t had any issues with foxes and wolves lately, and you really enjoyed the fresh meat. Simon was keeping you fed and protected even from a distance. Maybe he’ll set up a catio or something….

[skyrim-forever]

This is gonna be a very personal post but given the situation I wanted to say something here but

My 6.5 year relationship has ended, I have nothing but love for my ex but it was clear that we need different things in life. We met at 20 and went through 3 years long distance together spread across the country. We had hopes to be together forever and he is the only person I've pictured spending my life with. Despite our differences, we had some great times together.

I particularly wanted to say something here because he was the person who got me into Skyrim. My relationship before him (my only other relationship), my ex got me to play through the tutorial and I said "it was alright but I don't think it's for me" *bombastic sideeye*

After I had moved in back in 2019, he had a spare pc and suggested I try Skyrim because it was one of his favs. I had some time over winter break from uni and got instantly obsessed. I played the game a whole bunch but never dipped any further than what the general Skyrim audience knows. It wasn't until 2022 while I was bored during the summer in grad school that I started playing again, watched all the lore videos I could find and eventually on July 4th 2022 I made this blog because none of my friends where into Skyrim and I needed an outlet for it. Then of course I discovered people made ocs for their Dragonborn's and the imperial named Theodora started to develop in my head. Initially, she hated the Thalmor but as you all know that didn't last long :P

Then I started interacting with some of the cool people here and seeing them write fanfic made me think I could too and even put it out on ao3. And then I made more friends, and I took up beading and I combined it with tes. And then meet more people, wonderful people I now chat with in discord servers and in the dms where we are *very normal* about elves :P I've even had a few voice calls with some and I hope to have many more in the future <3

So all this to say that although my life is in upheaval, my anxiety in particular is really rough now, that relationship did much good for me and one of those things was helping me find this community. Tumblr really has been my refuge throughout the difficult time I had in grad school and the loneliness I've experienced moving away from my irl friends. Thank you all for being funny, kind, creative, very normal :P I'm blessed to have not only a good community around me but a good online community. I hope to have blorbo thoughts again soon <3

[zepskies]

Ahhh my lovely, friend! Take your time lol I know this one's a whopper. 🤣🤣 But omg I'm so interested to know which part stuck with you that much. 🥺❤️❤️

Well... It takes two to tango, buddy. I think you can lighten up lol

Right?? lmao She does set him straight on that, but we wouldn't have Dean without his self-loathing Dean Angst. 😂 (plus a tad of Ross - condoms really are little shits lmfao.)

also lmfaoooo forgive me but I'm stealing that *gasps in Spanish* gif. 🤣🤣🤣

Much like her, I fully freaked out at that part!!! Like, wtf, man!!! And all the while, my mind also went: "Well, he's surely gonna end it with Lisa now. It's the most logical conclusion." But NOPE! Our boy went a different way 😂

lolll Dean wasn't acting very rationally, was he? In the epilogue I'm currently working on for this story, I wanted to explore that a little more and give Dean more of an explanation on why he stayed with Lisa so long. I mean, I had my own HC in my mind and implied some things for readers to interpret for themselves, but you brought up SO many good points later on for the Lisa and Benny side -- you literally gave me a spark of inspiration for a scene. 😭🙏🏽

And I think it totally makes sense since he's still so freaking young!!! (He honestly reminded me of Buck in 911 lol – Idk if you watch it but he was very much a player firefighter like Dean) Essentially, they're both babies having another baby. It's already hard when you're a couple, but both of them being separate entities through this in a way makes it even harder. Although they try to be a unity, it's completely different since Dean isn't gonna be there 24/7 (which he also fully realizes the extent of it when she starts dating Benny).

Thank you so much for saying this! I probably should've defined Dean's age, but I implied that he was in his early 20s. I haven't seen 911 but I've heard of Buck! It's probably similar to Kelly Severide in Chicago Fire (early seasons)--definitely the "babies having babies" and being shit at communication because of it. 🥲

But man, I wanted to slap him left and right, shake him awake, and tell him to get his head outta his goddamn ass 😆

Oooh I don't blame you! lmfao Dean would've deserved each and every one of those slaps! That's why I don't blame some people for saying they didn't really like Dean in this. He fucked up a lot in this story, as did the reader, and really everybody, like you said. 😂

I was the exact same 😂😂 I still make my son most of his food myself instead of store bought (like apple sauce, bread, cookies etc.) ❤️

Aww I freakin' love that. 🥹 You sound like the best mom ever. 🍪🍪💕

Felt that lmao. Luckily, Robbie didn't sit on her ischiatic nerve and numbed half her leg too 🙄 I felt like a pinguin who got ran over by a truck 😂

oh dear Jesus. 😭 I was just starting to come around to the idea of having kids, but you're painting an oh so lovely picture of pregnancy, Wayne. 😆😆

Instantly knew where you were going with this. Probably the moment I started to brace myself and put my seatbelt on for this ride 🤣 Aw, poor Benny, who had probably wanted to go out with her since the wedding and then sadly realized Dean got there first 🥲

Tell me how you're picking up on things I felt subconsciously when I was writing, but didn't actually articulate in my mind until you said it lol. (Even more material for the epilogue! ❤️❤️)

Oooh, Alex, super important to know for you if you're ever going down the pregnant route: You're allowed a 12oz cup (up to 200 mg daily). Enjoy that coffee in the morning, girl 😏☕️

🫣🫣 Thank you for correcting me! lmfao I swore I thought my friend who has kids told me she cut out coffee, but she didn't have to! (Or I misremembered that one loll)

Still love that her water broke in the middle of class lmao. This was honestly a big fear of mine whenever I went outside during that last stretch 😂

Omg that would be such a fear of mine too! 😂😂

My God, I hated it so much that Lisa thought it was a good idea to come and then pick a stupid fight, drawing Dean's entire attention away from such an important moment. His sole focus should be on reader and his son atm and not on this. I felt terrible for her here 🙈💔 Dean not backing out of this relationship is one thing, but Lisa really should've ended it somewhere during reader's pregnancy or those first months after the birth. Yes, she liked him and wanted to try and make this work, but you gotta cut your losses at some point, girl, and walk away when your dignity's still intact. Even Mona broke up with Ross, and that was wild 🤣

Right?! lol Lisa wanted to be part of it, but at the same time jealous of it all and tried to draw Dean's attention that way.

Lisa really should've broken it off when Dean didn't, and this is one of those things I left up to readers to think about as to why she stayed with him. But in my mind, her reasoning was that she got hooked by Dean so much that she just wanted to make it work, despite the signs that his attention (and his heart) was divided. 😥

lol the Mona/Ross thing was SO wild. 🤣🤣 Ross would forget her literally all the time. I was honestly surprised she didn't break up with him sooner for all that! (lmfao pot-kettle-me 😆)

Maybe Dean should've asked reader to move in with him and surprised Lisa with it. Maybe that would've finally done it lol. She was resilient and hopeful till the bitter end lol ❤️‍🩹

lollll oh if only Dean would've gotten off his ass and done something about his feelings deep down! 😂

This was such a precious moment between them. Had tears in my eyes 😭😭 And then the goddamn cavalry arrives to break them apart! I hope for their second child they won't allow visitors till the next day lol 🙏

Aww thank you! That was one of my favorite moments to write tbh, as bittersweet as it is. 🥹 Oh yeah lol, for baby #2 it's just gonna be her and Dean, and maybe her mom.

Literally. How about you people just ask what momma wants, huh? I'm glad she had Dean there to support her, though 💕

He was there for her, even with all the distractions trying to pull him away! 😭

Typical Benny 🥹 This was so incredibly sweet of him and she really needed that (even if it did cross boundaries a little. At least wait till she gets home from the hospital to shoot your shot, buddy lol). He really had it bad for her, and I think that made him blindsided in that regard 💔

Oooh I love that take honestly that it was crossing boundaries a bit (he really was so into her from the beginning), but you're right that it really is what she needed in that moment. 💓

That hit so deeply 😢 I cry during that scene with Rachel every time too 😭

Literallyyyy. Rachel's conversation with Janice kicks me in the feels every time. 😭😭

That really showcased that Benny truly wasn't the one for her, no matter how nice, kind, and considerate he was. It's sad, but it happens. Her heart always belonged to Dean from that first night on ❤️ In the end, it would've been unfair to both of them (even all four of them) if they all stayed together in those pairings.

Thank you!!! That right there was the biggest clue - she just doesn't feel as comfortable with him as she does with Dean. She doesn't feel the sparks. I feel like that's something people missed about the Benny x reader relationship in this. It's "nice and safe" and supportive, but it's not the bone-deep love. "Her heart always belonged to Dean from that first night on ❤️" It absolutely would have been a disservice to all of them if things had stayed as they were.

And it's honestly not just on reader and Dean who went wrong by never admitting their feelings and talking it out like the grown-ups they aren't lol, but both Benny and Lisa are a bit selfish for staying with them as well. You can't tell me they didn't know or heavily suspect there were feelings there between them. Those two decided to butt into a young family, so they made that bed a little bit themselves, too 🤷‍♀️ Especially Benny – and hear me out, if Benny had been truly a good friend to Dean, he would've put his own feelings aside in the first place and talked some sense into him. But fair enough if he decided to go after her himself lol (I thought a lot about that specifically this week since we've talked about how Benny was a class act till the end, but honestly, this probably would've been even classier of him 🤝) I don't know why I get so defensive of reader and Dean in this story, but I was rooting for them hard 😂🩵

Honestly you don't know how much I love this analysis (and how hard you were rooting for reader and Dean ❤️❤️)!!

I definitely thought Lisa was being selfish to turn a blind eye to all the warning signs with Dean, but I didn't even think of Benny doing the exact same thing! He admits at the end that he feels this might happen, because he sees the way Dean is with the reader, and in my mind, deep known, he saw how the reader was with Dean too. He just selfishly wanted to hold on to her, hoping he'd be enough. 🥲

This really wasn't an easy request to write, now that I think about it loll. Because when I tell you what the requester wanted was so detailed with all these plot points (including Benny and Lisa, the 5 years, Lisa's ultimatum, the potential engagement, drama before it actually happens, etc.), and it was my job to try and connect it all. 😅

It's like your describing my kid lol And I love that both our HC is that Dean literally needs the threat of a proposal from another man to make a goddamn move 🤣

lollll I know, I still remember your poor bookshelves! 🤣 But it sounds like he's a mini Dean, just like Robbie. ❤️❤️

Right?? Again, great minds. 😂

Yup, makes complete sense. And again, it's on both Lisa and Benny for looking the other way here and not noticing that 🤷‍♀️ They literally accepted that Dean would just fix things in reader's home all the time etc. and it was clear both were bothered by that. Denial all around with these four 😂

For real. 😅 My HC is they both "noticed" but didn't want to admit it/looked the other way to try and maintain their relationships. If Dean x reader's biggest problem was denial and miscommunication, then Benny and Lisa's were denial and their willingness to turn a blind eye to the signs their partners had divided hearts. ❤️‍🩹

And this is the part that I thought most about. I sobbed then and I'm sobbing reading this again now. I was so incredibly heartbroken for Dean for missing out on all that shit. You just want him to have all the good things and enjoy being a dad to his heart's content, so this truly ripped me apart 😭😭😭

Omgggg you're making me tear up too, now! 😭 Yes, Dean doesn't deserve to miss out on any part of raising his son, and besides the potentially losing his chance with her forever, potentially losing a place in his son's life is the twist of the knife that Dean can't stand.

Same. Girl was committed 🤣

lmfaoooo Lisa really was like the Janice in this situation with the on again, off again shenanigans! 🤣

But the mother of his son, which makes her family... Lisa pissed me off during that scene, although I completely understand where she's coming from. Dean really broke her in a way. Still, she's known for five years what she's gotten herself into 😂

She really sucked in this scene. While you can see where she's coming from, clearly she's taking her frustrations out on the reader unfairly. 😥

I swear I wanted to murder you and Dean here, Alex, aka the part where I really thought you were going to break my goddamn heart 😂💜💜💜 I was livid with that man lmao

lmfaoo girl I don't blame you! It really is all my fault. 😜 Gotta have that "dark night of the soul" moment where it seems like all is lost...

And then that whole conversation at their parent's house!!! Fucking finally they're adressing this. Istg they better got to couple's therapy after and learn to communicate properly. Those skills are lacking with these two idiots 😅🙈

oh my God yeah. Fucking finally right? lol That's definitely going to be a subject covered in the epilogue. 😅😅

I loved how this was the scene that absolutely reached a boiling point with everyone!!! The drama queen in me was like, "Yes!! Let's go!!!" 🤣🤣👏👏

Oh it's pure rom-com drama at this point! 🤣🤣 Of course Benny's proposal gets interrupted - and omg how do you find the perfect Friends gifs for everything??!! 😍

The "for once" does it for me 💀 (And then Dean using past tense when saying he loved Lisa 🤯) I both feel for Benny and Lisa and think both of them handled the break ups incredibly well – no doubt about it. But that proves to me a little that they always knew it could end this way and just chose not to see it (even Benny admitted that at the end). Ultimately, it's a little hard for me to feel toooo awfully sorry for them, ya know? The old "you've dug your grave" story 😅

She got 'im there. 😅 Ahhh you noticed that past tense there, very intentional, even though it stings even more. 💙

Benny and Lisa really did have their own forms of denial. No one's the villain here, but no one's blameless either. 🥲 (I really appreciate you for seeing that. Not everyone did lol)

Fucking finally! 🥳 It's been a wild ride to get here, my sweet lil green-eyed idiot 💚🎢

I sobbed again during their wedding when Robbie brought him the ring and how happy he was that his parents were together 🥹

That might've been my favorite scene, other than Dean's confession. 🥹🥹 Robbie being happy to see his parents together was also something I hoped would be telling for the Benny x reader relationship too, that even reader and Dean's son was asking why they weren't together. 💕

Honestly, I said it over on Patreon, but here again too: This was such an amazing, phenomenal, and yes, dramatic ride, but it was fucking every 20k word of it (if you can't tell by this extensively long and insane comment lmao). And I can't help falling in love with you... 💜💜💜

I so appreciate you for that, Wayne. 🥹 I've been somewhat doubting myself on this story about certain things I chose to do, but you and others have made me feel more secure about the creative risks I was initially proud of. You have such an intelligent read on stories in such a fun and heartfelt way. 💕💕

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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[rwshfordgirl]

GOOD TO KNOW

all the images were taken from pinterest.

where thanks to a problem with her car, she finally meets the boy she exchanges smiles with in the elevator of the building where her grandmother lives.

paring; pedri x reader!

a/n: first time writing for pedri! i really like it. and this was a story that was in my head in portuguese and with central cee as the main character lol but i don't even write for him haha i hope you like it ;)

requests are open | check here my masterlist

Pedri rubbed his eyes as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing, he looked like someone in the desert seeing a mirage. However, you were real, you really were in his friend's mechanic's shop. And it was definitely the place you least wanted to be right now. However, you couldn't choose the day on which your car's engine would stop working.

But the Spanish player was relieved to see you. The voice in his head kept saying, "you're worried about her and you don't even know each other? you're crazy." Yet what could he do? He was used to meeting you at least once a week in the elevator of the building where he lives, but it's been weeks since he last met you.

Pedri has no idea why you disappeared, the college semester has been crazy and you no longer had time to take your grandmother's dog for a walk, as you had promised and had been doing for almost a year.

You remembered Pedri as soon as you saw him sitting with his head against the wall in front of you, "the cute boy from my grandma's building."

You never exchanged words but you did exchange many smiles, enough to make Pedri's heart almost jump out of his mouth every time. And you always enjoyed seeing him, especially when he was wearing Barcelona's tracksuits.

So, as always you smiled at him and he smiled back. But today you felt like talking, and besides, you wanted to try to forget that you would most likely be without a car for a few days.

Pedri saw you approaching attentively, his body was already starting to show signs of nervousness. Your smile was still on your face as you sat down on the empty bench next to him.

"Hi, long time no see."

Pedri heard your voice for the first time, he smiled when he concluded that it suited you perfectly.

"Hi." He looked into your eyes, "Really, and I was thinking you had moved away."

"Oh no, I don't live there, but my grandmother does and I promised to walk her dog once a week."

He nodded.

"You broke the promise."

Pedri's comment made you giggle and he mentally thanked you when he saw you turn your head forward. He admired you, something that only made him more nervous. His eyes helped his brain process every detail of your face, which made him come to the conclusion that he had never seen a woman like you.

"My degree isn't allowing me to go there. At least today I got some time off, and my car too."

You pointed to the car a few feet away.

"He's in good hands, Carlos is a good mechanic."

"I know, he always saves my car. But this is the first time I've seen you here, did your car have a problem too?"

Pedri shook his head, "I left training early today. I didn't feel like going home, so I decided to stop by and see him. He used to play with me in the youth teams."

You were surprised, "So you're actually a Barcelona player? I thought you were just a fanatical fan." You smiled "But now I'm remembering where I've seen you before, I've watched Barcelona games at Camp Nou."

"Barca fan then?" He asked curiously.

"I can say so."

"I need to let you know that the car will be ready today, but it will take about two hours. If you want to leave and come back for it when I call you."

Carlos, Pedri's mechanic friend, stopped in front of you. And the player saw you mutter, "Shit."

"Okay, I'll go to my grandmother's house then. "

You stood up and smiled awkwardly at Pedri and Carlos. The mechanic nodded and walked away while Pedri stood up and stood in front of you with his hands in his pockets.

"I can take you home if you want." He offered.

"No need, I live far away and my grandmother's house is very close. You can stay here with Carlos." You thanked him. "And by the way, my mother would kill me if I got into a stranger's car."

His joke made Pedri quickly lower his head and laugh.

"I swear I'm just a football player and not a psychopath. And I can come back later to talk to Carlos."

It's a half hour walk to your grandmother's house and only 10 hours by car. Pedri's ride isn't a bad idea for you, even if it makes you lay your head on the pillow and think about the dangers you could run into.

"Okay, but know that there are a lot of people who can come after you."

Pedri laughed at his comment once more before walking to his car. He politely opened the door for you to get in. "Thank you." You said before watching him walk towards the driver's seat.

"Do you live in another city but study in Barcelona?" He asked as he started the car. Eyes trained on the street.

"I live in Girona because of my mother and my maternal grandmother, both are not big fans of the hustle and bustle that Barcelona has."

"At least Girona isn't far away."

"Yes, it takes me practically the same distance by car or subway, but it's tiring to make that journey almost every day."

"I can't imagine what that must be like." He looked as he stopped the car at the red light. "But I know that all the effort will be rewarded."

"I hope.''

Seeing Pedrid driving has the same effect as seeing him wearing the tracksuit of the team he plays for. His hands on the steering wheel, the way he moves to look in the rearview mirror. It's a shame the journey is so short.

But Pedri was also bothered by this, he wanted to have more time to get to know you better today. An idea popped into his head as soon as he parked in the building's parking lot.

"Do you have any appointments right now?"

He looked at you hopefully.

"No. Why?"

Pedri bit his lip and looked out the window before answering.

"Want to eat something? There's a place nearby."

"There wasn't enough time for you to kidnap me, was there?" He laughed, "but I accept, I already know where you're going to take me."

"Do you like going there?"

"Love, even more so after a busy week."

And you can watch Pedri backing up and heading towards the café two blocks away. In the upper part of Barcelona.

"Nice view, isn't it?"

Barcelona seen from the top of the hill is something surreal. That's why it's one of your favorite places in the world, the most beautiful city in the world.

"It looks like you."

Flirtatious Pedri appeared. Taking you by surprise and leaving you embarrassed.

"Do you think so?"

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that ever since I first saw you in that elevator."

"And you never thought to tell me?"

"How would I tell you? Wouldn't it be nice to take you by the hand and tell you that you are beautiful."

You laughed at the way he said it.

"You should have, a compliment makes someone's day." He nodded. "But I'm not going to lie, I loved running into you in the elevator."

"And I definitely missed that."

He said as he scratched his chin. Pedri was embarrassed to say that but as he knew it wasn't worth hiding something like that from you.

"Good to know."