#it’s because it’s my special interest

[unofficialoracle]

This is such a great post, because it may actually be possible to pinpoint "where it all went wrong for us", and what we can do about it! I've been listening to the audiobook of The Anxious Generation by Jonathan Haidt, and he has an entire chapter about how a number of factors (one of the primary being social media and smartphone prevalence among kids and teens) have significantly reduced the amount of true Play time children have with each other.

Humans learn how to navigate social situations best as children, when they are Playing with other children, without adult intervention or imposed structure. Human brains are primed to do exactly what OP is describing. Children naturally seek to mediate, to comfort each other, to find mutually beneficial resolutions to conflict that strength the group's bonds. Studies have shown that the strongest neural pathways are created when children get these experiences with other peers, through playing games with rules that the children create and enforce.

Letting children Play in this manner is how they develop both their agency (I feel capable of figuring this out myself) and their community building skills (I support the people around me, and they support me).

The children could not have found the base problem - Jessica was playing by unspoken rules that Arjun broke - had the rules of the game been created for them by OP. The adult rules would be better communicated to the entire group, and likely would have an imposed structure as to how to handle conflict. Much less opportunity for the children to practice their community building skills.

The children also could not have practiced agency had OP been one of the primary humans to engage with a crying Arjun or Jessica. Most kids are going to default to allowing the adult to handle a situation once an adult has decided a situation is worthy of their involvement. When adults consistently step in every time there is conflict, children feel less capable of handling future conflict on their own.

By letting the kids console Arjun, and mediate themselves, OP gave the children an opportunity that has become increasingly less available for them - the chance to figure it out themselves. And they did figure it out, because our brains are primed towards pro-social behavior, and because childhood is supposed to be a time for a human to be Practicing Skills of All Types in environments where failure is expected and low stakes.

These children have watched their parents console their sobbing sibling, they have gotten to continue playing games with their cousins because they successfully navigated conflict before a parent got involved. The behavior has been emulated for them, given to them, and they have done it before themselves. They are learning to Do Things, and they need practice.

We all know how practicing works, and skills are learned best when they are used over, and over, and over again. Children need to have thousands of experiences like what OP has described above over the course of their childhood to become pro-social, well-adjusted adults capable of mediation and conflict resolution. Nothing replaces the power of face-to-face Play when it comes to learning pro-social behaviors, unmediated and unstructured by adults.

In the United States especially (though data shows many other countries are showing similar trends), children don't Play together as much as they used to, depriving them of the opportunity to practice essential skills for navigating our society in a low stakes environment. The cost of failing a mediation when my brother stole my toy at 6, is much less than the cost of failing a mediation with my boss when I'm on a PIP at work when I'm 26.

What do we do about it, as a society? Easy - let those kids play and Figure It Out Themselves! Help them when they ask for it, or when the situation has progressed past their ability level (significant bodily harm has taken place, etc), but otherwise? Let them play, let them console each other and resolve conflict without interference as often as possible. Give them a safe space to practice agency and community building, where they have support and general oversight, and where the cost of failure is low because failure is an expected part of the process.

Perhaps we will find that in 20 years, these children will have grown into adults who feel capable of Figuring It Out because they can do things for themselves and because they have a community who supports them.

watching children successfully and compassionately self-mediate conflict and wondering if it's possible to pinpoint where exactly it all goes wrong for us

[red-doll-face]

Heeyyy! Soooo I have a fun request idea that I totally came up with on my own with no help from anybody else, from my own mind and not some super creative person that answered my question about Arthur proposing to reader 🤣 it goes something like this:

-takes three months to work up the nerve and like another one to pick out one ring.

-chickens out at least two times bc the moment isn't right

-asks Hosea for advice 19 times (Hosea is tired)

-he's the trope where reader starts crying and he's like ohh goddd i fucked up of course you don't wanna marry my ass

-the way he would ride around for a week looking for the perfect spot to do it

-marks it on his map with a heart

-the essays he would write in his journal about this situation

-he's so cute i love him pls marry me Arthur Morgan

-awww once you say yes??

Hehehehe no pressure though!!!!! I just looooovvvveeeee this idea so much!

Yes !!! Yes of course I’ll write this!!! ❤️❤️💕💕🥰🥰😵‍💫😵‍💫😩😩As always it ended up running really long even though I didn’t even really flesh out a back story. 🥲 I’m glad you enjoyed my response ☺️☺️ I definitely had high honor Arthur Morgan in mind for this when I read it, I hope it’s ok and that you like it!!! I was so happy to see you in my inbox !!! @zae-heeyyy 💓💓💓💓💓 writing this was so cathartic and I loved the rdr1 setting so much so that I made this pre black water heist or whatever 😭🫶 from Arthur’s pov hope you like the characterization 🥹

Tags: established relationship, marriage proposals?? Arthur being a major weenie. Like huge weenie. He is soooo sooo sweet it’s almost like too much and I love love love sweet Arthur so very fluffy!!!! Pre black water !! Dutch being a jerk 😒 but cute dad Hosea moments ☺️

Arthur wants things to be perfect for you.

(High honor) Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur knows he’s made up his mind when he’s in the tailor’s shop in Blackwater, looking like a lowdown cattle rustler among all of the fancy fabrics on the wall. He and his spurs, his boots scuffed to hell and a leather satchel slung over his chest. He’s out of place and he knows it. But he’s here to buy a new shirt.

Yesterday, he had nearly driven himself insane looking for a shirt of his that wasn’t ruined, ripped and mended, dirty, stained irreparably. None of them were good enough for what he wanted, something nice to get down on one knee and ask his girl to marry him. And so he kissed you goodbye and rode into town in search of something better. He makes an effort at pretending to be interested in any of the fancy stuff, silk and linen suits that he sure will never be fitted for him. He clears his throat as the attendant drags his eyes away from the sunday paper.

A tight lipped smile consumes the man's face. Arthur already can sense the assumptions he’s getting but he pays little mind to it. He’s getting this shirt and that's that.

“How can I help you, sir?” Obnoxious and nasally, the thin and short man's voice already gives away his air of superiority. Arthur's eyes narrow but he isn’t too irritated yet.

“Here to get a shirt.” His words are simple. The attendant raises a brow.

“Just a shirt, not… pants or shoes?” the attendant lowers the paper to scan over the rest of Arthur’s clothes. Arthur can hardly ignore the burn of insecurity.

He gives a look that conveys how quickly he is losing his patience. “Excuse me?” He can only tell his posture changed when he observes the man's attitude change, clinging to the counter between them like it would make any difference.

“No, well sir, perhaps I’ve overstepped, I apologize. What kind of-of shirts were you thinking?”

“Listen, I ain’t here to cause no trouble, just show me what you’ve got,” The attendant hurries to show him some options, tries to sell him a vest but that isn’t happening with his budget.

In the end, he picks a blue french dress shirt. Costs a real pretty penny but he wants it to be special. Because you’re special. He stuffs it away in a saddlebag after thanking the attendant, who no doubt heaves a sigh of relief after he leaves.

-

He’s been collecting rings. In a special bag is a collection. A few plain gold bands, some with stones set in them. They’re pretty blue and red gems, some have filigree detailing. But he still can’t find the right one.

Worse then, is that they’re rings of all different sizes which he gets from his more sordid activities. Debt collecting or train robberies. It’s all stolen goods. It feels wrong to give you something like that but when he told Dutch his intentions, he clapped him on the back and told him to look in the collection box for more rings. He nodded then but it was half hearted. Somehow that was more souring. Did he really want to give you something he took from someone else? That someone else bought for their loved one with the express purpose of giving them something to symbolize how they loved each other? His own thoughts swirl circles in his head, why he had these scruples about it, he didn’t know.

It’s riding with Hosea that he asks for advice. They’ve been working on a job in Tumbleweed, trying to con some poor fool into giving money he shouldn’t by pretending to sell land deeds. They ride all the way from the yellow grasses of Hennigan’s Stead and it’s been mostly quiet over the stretch of passing though Armadillo. Arthur decides to speak up after they pass through town. The sun is beginning to dip a bit lower in the sky but they’ll be in Tumbleweed before then.

“I been-”

“This about you n’ the girl?” Hosea already has a knowing smile and Arthur rubs the back of his neck. “I think you should do it! You two would make quite the couple, she’s a sweetheart, that girl,”

“Yeah, she-she’s… I’ve been lookin’ at rings to give ‘er,” He grips the reins before going lax, riding easily along the path. Hosea murmurs, letting Arthur continue. He guides Boadicea down the dusty road. “I don’t think I wanna give her something I got robbin’, don’t seem right,”

“Then get her something new, I don’t think she’ll mind at all. But you do what you think you should. You could probably fence all the other rings you thought about and get her something quite nice with the cash,”

“Yeah, I could do that,” why hadn't he thought of that?

“That’s a wonderful thing, getting married. Don’t be afraid to, y’know, go through with it. If you’re thinkin’ about it. Maybe, once Dutch and I find the perfect spot for the gang to settle down, we’ll build you two your own little thing on the land,”

“You that confident she’ll say yes?” Arthur has an awkward and disbelieving laugh but Hosea keeps his earnest smile.

“Why wouldn’t she? Arthur, somehow, she has gone for a man like you, you should be over the moon, you should be whistling tunes everywhere you go,”

“Like me? What's that supposed to mean?” He knows what he means. A man like him had very little to offer you, a young woman who could easily charm some other well established man into giving you a home. Leagues away from his cot and the weathered canvas he put up to give you some small amount of privacy.

“You remember what happened with that Mary woman. This time, things oughta turn out better. This one’s got no old man to chase you around with a shotgun,” Hosea figures himself very funny and laughs, ending it with a shallow cough. Arthur furrows his brows.

Of course he reminded him of his disaster with Mary. He could never escape that woman, even when he severed ties with her. But how he had wanted to, especially with you. Yes, it was true, he had loved Mary. But now he loves you. He needs you. His idea of the rest of his life always includes you, laying in bed with him, gently stroking his chest, leaving him love notes in his satchel, telling him what happened in the camp while he was gone. He always listens, always wakes up smiling with you tucked under his arm.

“I remember just fine,” he grunts,

“Good, because you’ll forget about her soon enough. Month from now, I suppose. Where are you going to tell her?”

“Where? I didn’t think we was gonna go nowhere, just tell her when I was ready to…” he hadn’t even imagined a place when he first set out to do this.

“So you wanna propose; with Uncle standing behind her, drunk off his ass in just his soiled union suit?”

“I-”

“Take her somewhere special, somewhere to make her feel special! Women like to feel special, Arthur, you know that,”

“I do?” He says, with a sarcastic edge to his voice, though he tries on his attempt at sounding uninvested.

“You should. I didn’t do that enough. I should have before, well…” Arthur nods, bowing his head a little as if in remembrance. He hopes to always have you by his side. Otherwise he would be much like Hosea: carrying a torch for a woman who passed through his life too quickly.

-

He starts his journey looking for something special. Special like you are. Keeps his eye out, marking potential things in his map, and makes a list in his journal. Aurora Basin maybe, a pretty lake deep in the forest but getting attacked by bears doesn’t sound romantic in any way. There are some sweeping vistas overlooking the San Luis River in Rio Bravo. He isn’t quite sure about anything though, thinking it over deeply. He just wants things to be perfect.

He’s still thinking about it when he comes back to camp, close to Lake Don Julio, sighing. Thinking much too hard obviously, he doesn’t notice that you’re sitting on his bed, biting your nail nervously until you see him first. You look worried, happy to see him but worried. You stand, hugging your arms around yourself and then placing them on your hips to make you seem more upset but you just drop them when he’s close enough.

“Hey, darlin’,” He utters, opening his arms to give you a hug but you just look up at him. He drops them, mentally kicking himself before taking his hat off and sitting down on his bed.

“Arthur, you’ve been gone three days,”

“I know,” you’re disappointed in his answer. You take a breath and a pause, looking off to the right. He stares down at his scuffed and weather worn boots. He hates to disappoint you, hates when you’re upset. It takes a lot to get you there, too. You’re a forgiving soul when he knows he doesn’t deserve forgiveness. He looks away, like a dog who knew he shouldn’t have chewed those leather boots up to bits.

“You know. I asked everyone where you were and they didn’t know,”

“Honey, I ain’t gonna leave you, I’m not-”

“You leave other men out of this, Arthur,” you already predicted he’d bring another man’s failings to make up for his own. Maybe bringing up John’s shortcomings while you’re upset is a little below the belt but it worked better in his head. He puffs some air out in a laugh. God, he just can’t seem to find the right words to say.

“Is something funny? Is how much-how much I worry funny to you?” You look like you’re gonna cry, squeezing your arms tight around yourself. Your eyes flick around, thinking of all the people watching, never any goddamn privacy in this place. You start to back up, looking for a place to hide your tears.

“No, no, I- I’m sorry, don’t go walkin’ away,” You let him pull you back. Let him tug you into his lap. You sniff and tuck into his neck. “I’m sorry,” he says at least 5 more times. His hands pet down your hair, holding you. He hadn’t wanted to come back to such a harrowing fear in the pit of his stomach, the thought of you walking off without him. He thinks himself lucky that you haven’t had enough of him and decided to leave already.

Arthur pulls you in real tight, doesn’t let up til’ you start to calm down a little. “Shouldn’t cry for me, sweet girl, bastard like me ain’t worth them tears,” he wipes a few away. Seeing you like this could make him cry if he thought about it too much, how he had let you down. His nerves almost make him tremble, the slightest shake in his fingers when he brushes them under your eyes, shiny with tears. If anyone else made you cry, he’d knock their teeth out. But what is he supposed to do when it’s him? Sickness roils around his abdomen.

“Where were you, anyway?” You shake your head at his words. “Mac and Davey said…” he perks up at that. Those boys are a terror. His face screws up in an anticipated anger. He’d be angrier with them, they’re the ones who need to see it, not you.

“What’d they say?”

“No, they were just messing with me. I don’t think it’s true,” You look away. But he knows exactly how nasty those boys can be. He gives you a look and you give him a defeated one in return. An embarrassment leaks into your words. You can’t meet his eyes, twiddling your fingers.

“They said you were at the saloon in town. They said things that aren’t true and I know it but it isn’t nice to leave me here with nothing to say about it,”

“I know, darlin’, next time, you’ll be the first to know where I’m goin’,” You nod and wrap an arm around his shoulder while he pats your back, grabs your thigh so he can pull you to sit across his lap fully.

“Are you gonna answer my question or should I take their word?” you tease and he reassures you about those boys. They’ll be hearing from him soon enough.

“I’m gonna have a word with them, don’t worry about it,” he scratches his beard. How is he supposed to say that he went riding around looking for a place to take you so he can ask you to take his sorry hand in marriage? He had already disappointed you and saying it’s a secret is a laughable idea.

“Well, I was out, uhh- huntin’?” You frown and lean away.

“Arthur, you’re an awful hunter and an awful liar,” you look really hurt. You almost stand but he pulls you back. He needs something to tell you and fast.

“I was out lookin’ for somethin’ real special to give you. It’s supposed to be a surprise…but well, I can’t keep no secrets from you, sweetheart,” You fuss a little, a wariness in your posture. You study his expression. It isn’t a complete lie, makes it a bit easier to pull off. He really does have a surprise for you. He tries to keep his face neutral, but his lips twitch up when yours do to, a small smile shining through the clouds of your emotional turmoil.

“What surprise?”

“I didn’t find it, guess a surprise, it’s gonna have to stay,” You pout and wiggle, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest.

“Ok, but once you find it, you better take me to see it right away,” You kiss him, soft and sweet, holding his prickly jaw in one hand. He can feel how your pout gives way to a smile. The feeling of your soft lips on his is one of those things he’ll never get sick of, never get over.

“I will, promise,”

-

He’s found the perfect ring, really, by chance. It’s a little thing but it’s the right color, goes well with you. The rock on it isn’t very big but he saw it in a window while in town. Some big fancy jewelry store, showing off all the finer things that he never paid any mind to. Unless it was to steal it of course. But he had bought it. With money that may have been also robbed but it was from hitting a Del Lobo stash. A good deed, probably in a backwards sense.

The girls had ‘oohed’ at it, Mary-Beth had an excited tiny clap and Tilly rejoiced. Jenny nodded with a small smile.

“We’re happy for you Arthur! Oh my god, Arthur Morgan, gettin’ married…” Tilly giggles, putting her hands to her cheeks and clasping her hands in front of the skirt of her yellow dress.

Karen laughed. “Never thought I’d see the day,”

“Don’t listen to her, I mean we was hoping when we saw you two huddled up all the time,” Mary-Beth takes the ring from him, holding it closer, so that Jenny and Tilly can get a closer look.

“Hey, be careful with that,” he murmured, trying not to sound too desperate. He scratches his neck instead of snatching it back like his instinct wants him to. Evening is coming soon, purple dusk and soft coyote yipping and howling far in the distance marks the sun's descent. Meaning you’re probably finishing up whatever it is you’re doing. He hopes you don’t come around the corner at an inopportune time. Arthur turns his head this way and that.

“Where’d you get it? Looks new, ain’t scuffed to high heaven like everything else around here,” Jenny points out and the girls nod.

“Bought it in town,” playing it off doesn’t work so well.

They ‘ooh’ some more. “Fancy. Only the best for Arthur’s sweetheart,” Karen coos teasingly.

“Gimme that,” grumbling, he takes the ring back, bowing his head so they can’t see the embarrassment plain on his face. He meanders off after asking how things have been. Of course, they only give him updates about you, Karen jokes that that’s all he wants to hear about anyway. He scoffs and wishes them a good evening.

But the perfect spot is yet to be discovered. Evades him like just about nothing else. He almost gives up on the idea. He’s been taking you out, trying to get you in the almost perfect moments. Taking you out on the town in Blackwater was a good time, he bought you dinner and took you on a stroll down the cobbled streets, watching your face light up when you saw something pretty in a window, clutching his hand and pulling him in more. He almost proposed on the veranda at the Blackwater saloon. Only for a fight to break out at the poker table to interrupt.

Then he took you out to see the poppy fields in Great Plains. But he had let his anxiousness and his nerves overtake him. He had tucked the ring away. You had looked so beautiful standing among the flowers, it was perfect but he just…couldn’t. Instead, he wrote in his journal about his own cowardice. Wrote about if he should lock you to him for the rest of your life. If he’d end up leaving you a widow. Or if you were to be taken from him like Annabelle and Bessie. Leaving behind lonely men who longed for a woman gone from this world. Then he scribbled pictures of you, trying to draw the motion in your hair and in your dress and the beaming most enchanting smile he had ever seen.

Boadicea munched on the long wheat grass, waving in the wind while he kept a watchful eye on you, picking flowers in your pretty dress fluttering against the bright blue of the sky. You have a bunch of candy orange poppy flowers held together by your palms, a bright smile on your face. You walk to where he sits, leaning against the tree, next to a small broken down stone fence. Your smile falters when you see his pensive expression. You come close enough to touch. You dangle one flower above him before you tuck it into the frayed ropes banded around the crown of his hat. He lowers his head while you fuss. Smiling like a fool. You smile again too, sitting beside him. You both listen to the sound of the quiet plains, breeze in the branches above him. The shade is cool, light filters beautifully over your features, speckled like the back of a doe.

“Something has been going on with you, Arthur,” you state as pure fact, knowing him all too well. You had only really known each other a year and have only been together as a couple for six months but you knew him better than anyone else. You had let him be himself, let him just…be. He didn't need to say anything for you to understand him.

“I’ve just been… thinkin’ bout some things,”

“Really? I thought you said you weren’t very good at that,” you smile a little, nudging his shoulder. Hoping to lift his spirits with his similar brand of humor but when he hardly huffs a laugh, you frown. “Is it about you and me?”

“Yeah, in a way,” he says, unable to hide anything from you. Why should he bother? Saying no would make you more suspicious. Arthur closes his eyes and can feel the panic rising in you. He could have been better about saying it but he’s quick to deflect it away from his secret. “You happy with me?” low and grumbled, the severity makes his tone go way down.

“I don’t understand. Do I not seem happy? Arthur, I’ve never…I’ve never been happier than I am with you. You’re the kind of man any girl would be lucky to have,” You smile, leaning to face him. Softening up, your eyes track over his face.

He wanted to ask you right then and there. Tell you just how much you complete him. How lucky he was to have you, how there never was a happier time in his life. He doesn’t believe in that sentiment you have, he had failed the women in his life. But he had wanted to make a vow, to never leave you alone. It’s his own nerves that wrap tight around his hands, don’t let him reach in his satchel for the little treasure that will be your wedding ring.

“No, I just know I been gone, I don’t wanna ignore you. I just been busy,”

“You have things to do,” You sigh heavily. “I wish the other men would be as helpful as you. Sometimes, I watch Sean, Uncle, and Bill lay around all day while you’re out working. It doesn’t seem fair,” Your brows pinch in a small dissatisfaction with the idea. He smirks.

“I don’t know how much I trust Sean to get things done right. We’d probably eat nothin’ but leaded rabbit meat and whiskey if we left it up to that boy,” You giggle and nod. Happy to see him back in his joking mood.

“Arthur… You know I love you, don’t you?” God, those words make him shiver. Make his heart rattle in his chest. Could swear his insides turn about 3 times. So sweet, you look at him, hands on his thighs, leaning into his side. He opens his arm for you to tuck into, grabbing your waist to pull you close.

“Yeah, I do. Love you more,” he can feel heat flush up his neck and cheeks but he doesn’t care if he looks like a lovesick idiot. Your joy is worth it. The wind blows your hair over your shoulder, you let him sweep it back some more. Your pretty laugh when he bows over to lay you down on the grass makes him chuckle.

-

He’s finally found it. Montana Ford. A shallow spot in the river he discovered, looking for a short cut trying to cross from New Austin into West Elizabeth. He hated riding through the Del Lobo populated Thieves Landing, especially after they were catching on that it was Dutch and his boys robbed their stash two weeks ago. He sighed and then he veered off the road, looking for somewhere to cross. And the shaded river was perfect.

He stays there a moment, looking at the pretty grass growing alongside the water, the light glittering over the surface. The sound of the river rushing by fills his head pleasantly. You’d love it, you’d toss your boots aside and wade into the river, lifting your skirts high enough to hopefully not get wet. But you’d be wet anyway. He’d do it too, you made him feel like he was twenty despite his thirty some years on this earth.

He decides to sit and sketch it and write about you. Just how excited he was at how everything was coming together. He feels like a kid, sappy but too devoted to care very much at the small heart he puts on his map. He’s almost embarrassed of himself. Even with no one to see. He folds his map up and stuffs his journal away, whistling his horse over. With a soft word or two, he mounts up and continues on to his destination.

-

It's been three days since he found the spot he would take you to and he’s had a ring in his satchel that glares up at him every time he opens it to pull out a cigarette. Of course, just as everything comes together, Dutch insists he go scouting for some new venture, looking to follow a treasure hunter so they could rob him. It ends up being a whole lot of nothing from a bad tip but Dutch has a ‘nothing ventured, nothing gained’ speech to try and lick his own wounds at Arthur’s expense. Arthur rolls his eyes. Feels his hands knot into fists.

“Maybe next time, it’ll be you runnin’ all over New Austin on some wild goose chase! And I’ll give you this bullshit. Wouldn’t that be just fine, wasting your goddamn time-”

“Arthur, calm down! I don’t have time for your complaining. Where is that girl of yours? Why don’t you blow some of that steam off with her? It’s obvious to me-”

“Dutch…stop pushing the boy,” Hosea remarks from where he’s reading a book nearby. Arthur postures to continue arguing and Dutch shoots a glare before waving him off. He looks to Hosea and backs away, huffing. But before he can go for a smoke to hopefully calm himself down so he could be with you, Hosea calls him over.

“So… have you popped the question?”

“No, I ain’t got time most days,” He sighs in defeat, dropping his weight on the seat next to him, resting on his knees, leaned over. He takes his hat off to adjust his hair before putting it back on. He hadn’t seen you in another two days on account of this stupid ploy to rob a treasure hunter who didn’t know left from right and east from west. What an idiot. But not nearly as foolish as he.

“Tomorrow, I’ll tell Dutch to leave you out of these plots of his. I’ll even tell Miss Grimshaw that she’ll be gone. Take her and ride away for a couple of days. I hope to see a ring on her finger when you get back. In fact, I’ll be expecting it!” Hosea has a smile on his face, the excitement is genuine. Arthur nods.

“And what if she says no?”

“Well you keep at it. Perhaps a little persistence is all you need but why do you insist on imagining the worst?” It’s as if after asking, he considers why Arthur might not want to change things irreparably, might have already put his heart on the line and had it thrown away before.

“Arthur, the sting of rejection must be pretty…pretty lamentable. But you wouldn’t be trying this hard if you really thought you didn’t have a good chance,” Hosea sets his book down. “Go get some rest… leave first thing in the morning,” Hosea pats Arthur lightly on his shoulder. Arthur looks up as Hosea wanders in the direction of his tent.

His heart does yearn to see you at his side, wearing his ring on your finger. To hear you referred to as Mrs. Morgan. But all he can see is an incredulous look on your face. ‘Marry? Me? Arthur, you must be joking,’ you laugh and laugh. You’d never be so cruel but whatever part of him hates his own guts imagines the scenarios with great fervor. The anger from the rest of his day and the anger at himself grit against each other. He growls low before marching off to his tent.

You’re already inside, looking very lovely, one of his mended shirts serving as something of a robe to wear over your underthings. You look up and smile. He could forget the whole world just by looking at you. You hum, scooting over in bed.

“Arthur…” the way you call his name, you hardly need to give him any pet names, just Arthur will do.

“Come out with me tomorrow. First thing in the morning,” He states. More like a command, the residual anger drips off his words. You look at him strangely.

“Alright but I’d like to know what all of this is about first,” You set whatever you were working on, perhaps brushing your hair as you set a horsehair brush aside. You give him a concerned look.

“Found that surprise,” he grumbles, sitting down and tugging his boots off. “Hope you’ll like it but…” he stops to tug his gun belt off, his suspenders too. Arthur rests his hat gently on the side table. “Can’t be too sure til I show it to ya,” You smile softly.

“I think if you think I like it, I’ll love it,” God, he hopes so. Anticipation bounces around in his head and in his lungs. He’s practically short of breath. How he’s going to sleep, he has no idea.

“Yeah?” you hum in agreement. Looking sleepy, he’s endeared by how your eyes blink slowly, how you wiggle onto his chest the second he lays down. Your hands rub down his chest and belly. You’re asleep in a matter of minutes. He almost wishes he had you for company still but he’d never wake you for something so selfish. Instead, he pets down your hair and listens to your breathing, the natural hush that covers the camp once it’s too late for much of anything but small chatter.

-

Like clockwork, he wakes early. He can’t remember falling asleep but you're softly murmuring, you won’t wake unless he expressly wakes you. He gives himself time to put on that shirt he bought and rub his hand over his face at how nervous and silly he feels buttoning it up. He pulls a jacket over it to hopefully hide how ridiculous he looks. The morning is a pale blue when he steps out, thinking to bring you coffee to wake you.

You dress, half asleep, when he comes back to you, humming into the cup he brought you. You wear something nice but not overstated. You put kisses on him to wish him a good morning after you’ve decided you’re cleaned up enough.

He helps you up on his horse, Boadicea already very used to you. The ride isn’t too bad and you certainly make it better, he’s quiet with nerves, responding as much as he can without getting lost in his thoughts. The sun has climbed up and blazed down on you for a while by the time you get there. But your face when you see his surprise is too precious, eager to slip off the back of his horse.

“Arthur, it’s so beautiful!” The summer sun is high in the sky, perfect for your plans as you tug your boots off. He ambles after you, hitching his horse to a tree. You’re already sighing and knee deep in the center of the river. Your stockings lay haphazardly tossed over your boots. You’re some fabled creature, come from somewhere else. He could see it. No woman shined like you did, at least not how he saw things.

Just like he imagined, he rolls his pants up and tosses his boots aside, the spurs jingle when they hit the ground. The light catches the river’s surface, shades of yellow and green, the earth's gentle brown. You’re excited to see him join you, taking his hand that he holds out to you, pressed to his belly and chest, just where you belong.

“You like it, sweetheart?” He mumbles, really fishing for compliments. He knows you do but he’d love to hear you say it.

“I love it, Arthur, how could you say I wouldn’t? Sometimes, you’re a silly man,” you laugh, sway with him in the river. Birds sing, the water is cool, it’s perfect. He pulls you up to a shallower part of the ford, the sun forms a halo around you, reminds him you’re pure heaven and he couldn’t let you go.

“I have something else for you,” his voice is shaky instead of the easy confidence he likes to portray himself as. You look up excitedly but the dazzling smile slips off your face, you're shocked as he pulls a ring from his satchel and kneels down in the river.

“I-uhhh…I-“ he had really planned all of this and didn’t think of a single word to say. He can't bear to look up, he’s sure he’ll lose his nerve. “I haven’t loved…anyone like I love you,” the ring looks tiny and pathetic in his fingers. They’re also calloused to hell but he continues anyway. “There ain’t anyone else for me in this world but you. I just wish I was a better man, you deserve more than I can give but… if you would have me,” he looks up and your hands cover your mouth and tears leak over your fingers.

He really had ruined everything, hadn’t he? How was he supposed to go on living with you? What would he tell Hosea? His face falls and his heart cracks but he’d be glad to take you back home and disappear for a few days.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, don’t know what I thought,”

“Arthur, just please…” you hold out your left hand. You wipe your tears, trying to compose yourself and when he sees your smile, your hand over your right cheek, he lets himself ease. “Nothing would make me happier than to be- to be your wife, Arthur, you are…you’re the best man I know,” you wiggle your fingers excitedly and he slips the ring over your ring finger. He stays stunned, kneeled in the water, his pants soaking it all up but he couldn’t care less.

The ring looks so perfect on you. He holds your hand, kissing it like a knight of old, looking at him down on his knee, still crying but that brightness in your eyes is all he needs. Your giggle makes him smile at you too. And you drop to embrace him, tucking into his chest, arms around his neck. You murmur his name, rub his back. Tangle your fingers in his hair. He settles with you, surrounded by your unmistakable presence, basking in it. Holds you tighter, trying to not squeeze the air out of you. He breathes you in, holding you through your overwhelmed clinging, wiping your tears on his shoulder.

You pull back a little, enough to kiss him, his relief is groaned into your mouth. He loses track of himself and slips, sitting in a river with you in his arms, giggling more into his kiss.

You sit with him on the banks, trying to dry out after he tipped over. So much for his fancy shirt. He thinks the both of you will look half drowned by the time he brings you back to camp but he isn’t sure he wants to go back. Just you and him for a few days sounds rather enticing. You keep looking at your ring, leaned into his shoulder. A pleased little smile blooms over your face. How can he not smile at how beautiful you look, hair wet at the ends, warm light casting its glow over you.

You look up at him, with a look that says you’re gonna cry again but you just give him a teary smile.

“I’m a lucky bastard, get to call you mine,” You wrap one tiny hand over his neck when you kiss him slow and deep, letting him consume the very air in your lungs, grip over your body to feel it. You moan just softly enough to pull on his need for you. But you part ways for you to continue.

“Did you really think I’d say no?” you give him a sad frown. As if upset that he would think such a thing of you. You brush your fingers against his skin. He looks away.

“You wouldn’t have been the first,” you sigh.

“Who could say no to Arthur Morgan?” You ask no one in particular but he huffs a small laugh.

“Many people,” a joking tone tinges his words. But then he dips towards the sentimental. “Don’t even remember, really, all I think about is you, darlin’…” You laugh before coming closer, unable and unwilling to part from him. He knows he’s a hundred and one percent sap but he lets himself melt in your presence.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t me,” you wiggle your left hand in his face. He chuckles a little at your cute little fingers. “I’m glad…it means I get you all to myself,” The joy is boundless in his chest, he could light the night like a lightning bug with the flame in his heart.

“Arthur, I… I… sometimes I don’t have the words to tell you how much I love you,” you lean onto him. He shakes his head with what he’s sure looks like a stupid grin on his face. He wasn’t sure this would be in the cards for him but here he is, with you.

“Every part of me loves you, honey,” is all he has to say, paling in comparison to the pure power of your own words over him. They tumble clumsily from his mouth but you pull him down for kisses anyway. Your teasing ‘do you?’ has him nodding between your giggles and wet kisses.

-

Thank you so much for leaving me this request, I loved writing it!! It was so much fun and I really had fun including some parts of rdr1 map that were really special to me and brought me back to when I was a kid playing that game 🥹🥹🥹🥲🥲🥲❤️❤️❤️ any feedback is appreciated and thanks for reading 🥰🫶

[fallennumbskull]

I see a lot of people making kitty versions of the boys but I think we're all collectively sleeping on the potential of a singapura Lucifer. They're the smallest breed and don't have health issues like munchkins do while having a temperament that I think fits Lucifer really well.

Though I do like seeing maine coon Adam, I think that personality wise Adam is WAY more of a bengal cat. Maine coons are known for being gentle giants while bengal cats are a wildcat-domestic hybrid infamous for becoming bullies to normal domestic cats when they aren't given enough to do.

He practically screams 'expensive purebred who isn't getting the socialization or stimulation he needs because his owners just see him as a flex instead of an animal.' And bengal cats actually have a gene that causes their fur to have a 'glitter' effect that is perfect for the golden boy!

[reekhavoc18]

I admire people whose special interest is bugs and small critters because I myself am very afraid of them; as in if there's a bug in my vicinity I will scream and run then cry because I can't kill it (or it'll leave a mark on wherever its on), bug enthusiasts are very brave.

[cripplecharacters]

I'm a diagnosed autistic man and many call me "gifted" and "high-functioning" and my sisters also suspect I have a slight Savant Syndrome, but after hearing so many autistic people talk about how they're tired of this stereotype that every autistic is a superhuman genius I really don't want to write "savant-coded" characters, specially after I realized how much of a "compensation cure" it is.

I've considered not making Sherlock-esque characters, however, there are 2 things that I don't know to address:

1- In fiction, most main characters have a special ability that makes them useful to the plot, even if it's just an average person knowing how to sew, but when it's a special interest, how do I make it sure that they're not "too Sherlock"?

2- When writing a character that is actually some kind of mastermind in crime-solving, how do I make sure they don't seem autistic when it's not impossible that, as an autistic person, I could accidentally write someone who acts or thinks like me to an extent? (Not as in "as smart as me", way smarter, but like with a trait that is from autism but we only realized we have it because of autism later in live)

Hello!

As somebody who enjoys reading crime/mystery fiction with autistic characters, this is something that I encounter a lot and it can definitely be a tough balancing act.

I recently read The Body in the Woods by April Henry which features three teenagers who find a body while volunteering with Search and Rescue and try to solve it. Although Ruby (The autistic character) has a special interest in crime solving, the author navigates it in a way that doesn't make it seem "too Sherlock" or, in other terms, like she's a super genius who can solve the case with some sort of "autistic special crime solving abilities".

In The Body in the Woods, Ruby has several special interests that are pertinent to the case at hand -- not just her special interest in crime. Ruby is also interested in bird watching, survival gear, continuity errors, police procedure, and several other topics.

These other interests help her to solve the crime but they also get in Ruby's way. Her interest in police procedure annoys the officers on the case and prevents her from getting any information from them but it also allows her to understand how the investigation is being done. Her interest in birdwatching causes her to make several unwise decisions that put her in a dangerous situation (I'm being purposefully vague here to avoid spoilers) but it also gives her important background knowledge to solve the case.

Something else that was done well is that some of Ruby's other autistic traits (Her awkwardness, her impulsivity, her chattiness, her attention to detail, etc.) also impact her investigation -- both positively and negatively.

Her impulsivity causes her to make several incorrect assumptions and jump to conclusions but it's also the reason she can make quick decisions that ultimately benefit her. Likewise, her attention to detail allows her to pick up on things others have missed but it also causes her to fixate on pieces of evidence that were ultimately unimportant.

With most autistic characters in these kinds of books, I find that the main problem is that the character is only autistic when it's relevant to the plot.

I usually see this come up in the form of a character's only special interest being crime or something very specific that helps the plot but it also happens when the character's autistic traits only benefit them during the investigation. For example, their attention to detail helps them to spot incredibly important evidence but never the irrelevant evidence or the red herrings.

One of the reasons that I enjoyed Ruby in The Body in the Woods is because the author shows both sides of this. Ruby is a well rounded character outside of the investigation and her autism affects her life outside of it. We see her struggle with maintaining relationships, we see her difficulty communicating her needs to her parents, we see how she tries and fails to fit in. We also see how her autism makes it difficult for her to solve the case -- as opposed to it being the key to it.

This is one of the best ways to make sure your autistic characters don't end up being "too Sherlock-y" (i.e. Super genius detectives).

Your second question is a bit more difficult for me to answer, especially since I often experience the same struggle.

The best thing I can advise here is to read stories in the genre with non-autistic characters. Take notes on them. How do they react to things? How do they speak? How do they interact with others? If the story is in the first person, how do they think? Try to imitate that to a degree with your own characters.

Something to keep in mind is that the term "autism" encompasses a wide range of traits and it's entirely possible that somebody will have or show some traits of autism without actually being autistic. For example, there are people who don't pick up on social cues or have a quick temper or obsess about things who aren't autistic.

If your character is a sort of crime-solving mastermind genius guy and not autistic, consider how they interact with their intellect. Are they proud of their abilities? Do they show off a lot? Do they try to hide it? Having this relationship between your character and their intellect established can help prevent you from slipping into the "socially awkward genius" trope, which can come across as an attempt at an autistic character.

The final thing I'd suggest would be to get somebody to look over your drafts and provide feedback on how your characters act and behave.

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

[sinbiis]

chase you down until you love me~!

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ stalker!rafayel x collegestudent!reader

⟢ synopsis : rafayel was willing to do anything to make sure your life collided with his. regardless of whether that was now or later, you’d eventually find your way back to him. that’s where you belonged, after all. eight hundred years ago he was so close to calling you his wife, and now, nothing is going to stop him from achieving his dream. both of your dreams (you just didn’t know it at the time)

⟢ a/n : okay WAIT BEFORE YOU STONE ME, READ RAFAYEL’S ANECDOTES!!! this man paid people to watch over us, to take pictures of us, to make sure nothing was DONE to us by other people who had targeted us. listen… if this doesn’t give you stalker vibes?? you might need to get zapped for a quick second because ?? but is it really that bad?? (okay im sorry, i don’t condone stalkerish behavior) but in this case we accept because its rafayel and 😩 also the third photo triggered my thalassophobia so badly

⟢ warnings : stalking, possessiveness, obsessiveness, power dynamics, jealousy, threats of murder, reader is of COLLEGE AGE (20+)

⟢ w.c : 1k

©sinbiis, likes and reblogs are appreciated!

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

⟢ stalker!rafayel, who, from the start, made sure to keep such a close eye on you. when he was made aware of your existence after all these long and exhausting eight hundred years? he needs to make sure you’re safe, and who better than him to keep an eye on you?? he lost you once, he isn’t going to make the same mistake again.

⟢ stalker!rafayel, who hires a small team of private investigators to keep an eye on you when he isn’t able to. this includes when he’s doing those long and boring talks about his newest creations of art to collectors, millionaires and some billionaires. his mind can only wander back to you  Ping! oh! while on that subject, he cuts his speech short to check the messages he’s being sent, all containing pictures of you from a distance. your whereabouts, your friends, you, you, You. a smile graces his face, and he’s back to giving that not-so-boring speech anymore.

⟢ stalker!rafayel, who threatens the P.I for getting to close to you when he arrived back to linkon. his intense glare staring down at the poor soul who managed to snag a photo of you within a dangerously close distance. 

“i thought i told you not to approach her.” he sneers, holding the knife to the man’s throat. the man was scared out of his mind, it was a simple mistake! “s-she didn’t notice! we needed to make s-sure that was her! see? she’s j, just a college student!”  “what college?” “u-university of linkon!”

⟢ stalker!rafayel, who decides that it’s for the best that he gives a lecture at your university, specifically to your class. students who weren’t in your class would moan and groan at how the renowned Rafayel was only a guest appearing for one class! but he was just testing the waters, he wanted to make sure that you were attending the university, that you were attending your classes. you wouldn’t want to disappoint him, even if you weren’t aware of him. 

⟢ stalker!rafayel, who once had confirmed you attended the school and class, decided to do a few more guest lectures. he wasn’t big on assigning seats, but for this special occasion, he made sure your name was front and center. he needed to get a good look at you, because sadly the photos couldn’t convey your beauty. he needed to see you in person to confirm that you are who you are. and you’re his. afterall, this small connection was just beginning to blossom. who glances over in your direction from time to time, making sure your eyes remain solely on him. but he masks it so well, that you can never tell if he’s really staring at you, or just merely glancing your way, just the same as he did for everyone else.

“mr. rafayel? i heard you weren’t particularly a fan of giving artistic lectures, so what made you interested in giving a lecture here?” the student grins, before continuing, “is your ex here?” “maybe.” rafayel responds back

⟢ stalker!rafayel, who makes sure you’re only paired with female students. he keeps the male students away, especially those who were a little more interested than being friends with you. 

rafayel taps the tip of his pen against the table in front of a male who, for some odd reason, couldn’t stop looking at you. his gaze cold as he glared at the student, before being replaced with a pompous smirk. “i suggest you focus on your studies rather than whoever you’re looking at oh-so-lovingly. she’s not going to want you if you end up as a bum on the street, hm?”

⟢ stalker!rafayel, who learns your routine for the week, and has no incorporated it into his own schedule. you’re getting coffee with your friends at three-thirty next tuesday? so is he! you’re going on a small movie date with your friends at nine on saturday? what a coincidence! so is he. who oh-so-unexpectantly runs into you on a quick solo trip to your local mall. to his luck, you’re by yourself this time (he totally knew), and he knew this was his chance to talk to you.

⟢ stalker!rafayel, who manages to snag your number by the end of the conversation, and somehow manages to find out your address too. he’s sending you a ‘i’m sorry for scaring you basket’ filled with luxurious goodies. he needed to make a good impression after all. and who were you to deny such a luxurious gift… but how did he find out where you lived?

⟢ stalker!rafayel, who was quick to call you cute little nicknames. cutie, princess, little miss, and his personal favorite, his wife, he just didn’t share that one. he knows you get flustered, he knows that it makes you feel all tingly, he knows it’s gaining your trust. and eventually you’ll open yourself up to him, he just needed to be patient. he’s done this once, he knows you like the back of his hand.

⟢ stalker!rafayel, who convinces you to go on a small ‘study’ date with him. he’s willing to help you with your other classes, including his now that he is a seasonal professor. but as the date progresses, no work is done, only conversation after conversation about your life, his life… but mainly yours. he wants to know what he’s missed out on, as he silently promises to never again miss out on your life.

⟢ stalker!rafayel, who had offered you a ride, but you sadly turned him down, stating you needed to swing by the grocery store for a couple of items. so, he innocently suggests sharing each other's locations. he just wants to make sure you get home safe after this date! what kind of future husband friend would he be if he didn’t look out for your safety?

⟢ stalker!rafayel, who has you slowly falling for him, as according to plan. who cares if it’s too early? you were destined to be his, he's just helping speed up the process is all!

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

©sinbiis2025

[starfleetshrimps]

pet peeve of mine in ds9/garak fanfic: when people try to tell me that all the bajorans on the space station hate garak. like no. he runs a tailor shop that is still in business, and isn't even the only tailor's shop on the promenade--that can't all be due to passing merchants, especially because he was running the shop way before the wormhole was discovered and the station became a transportation hub in the first place! also we see him interacting with regular civilian bajorans in public AT LEAST once (which considering his overall screentime is impressive) and the interaction is anything but hostile. sure--KIRA doesn't like him, but kira is a somewhat special case and she also KNOWS HE'S REALLY A SPY.

i think we get too caught up in the "oh that's garak, our resident cardassian intelligence agent, he kills people" of it all that we forget we only know that because we're the audience. Zurpo Zurd who lives in the habitat ring level five with his girlfriend and works as a cashier at Spacely Spockets doesn't know the guy who sold him his newest g-string used to be second in command of the most ruthless network of spies and undercover operatives this side of the quadrant, he just knows that the guy was nice and offered to take his pants in a little at half-price. Granted Zurpo doesn't know what full price is, but surely this lovely gent wouldn't lie to him about that.

anyway my point is not ALL the bajorans hated garak. im sure many of them did! for being a cardassian! but only those who are in need of an obsidian order agent actually know that garak is one--which is not that many in the grand scheme of things. It's just that the poeple who are in need of an obsidian order agent tend to be the most interesting, and therefore the show is mostly focused on them.

Zurpo doesn't know. Zurpo doesn't have to know. Zurpo is fine not knowing.

[dontgetmadgetmaddie]

This reminds me of a quote from Ira Glass, a radio host with NPR who's one of the voices of my childhood. He says, "Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it's just not that good. It's trying to be good it has potential but it's not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit.

Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this.

We know our work doesn't have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know its normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work... It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions...It's gonna take awhile. It's normal to take awhile. You've just gotta fight your way through."

That reframing, the acknowledgment that every doodle in the sketchbook, every swipe of frosting, every sentence doesn't have to be a masterpiece, because they're steps on the journey toward mastery. And your friends and family are gonna love eating that cake.

People have written a lot of touchy-feely pieces on this subject but I thought I’d get right to the heart of the matter

[pis3update]

Vegetarian Recipe Renamer: Reasonable and Relevant Meals for All Sims! by Spork

"Ever since Showtime, The Sims 3 has allowed any Sim, regardless of their own traits, to learn and prepare the vegetarian versions of most of the meat dishes in the game. This is, of course, very useful for the friends and loved ones of vegetarian Sims, who have ever since been able to cook for their buddies and fully include them in parties and family meals! However, it also calls to the forefront how much of an afterthought the vegetarian meals must have been when they were added to the game -- every Sim now has recipe menu full of very similar pairs of meals, featuring oxymoronic options like "vegetarian fish". (You might assume, as is probably the intention, that that means "a vegetarian imitation of fish", but that characterizes these recipes as specialized substitutions -- the implication that you're having it because you're not having real fish -- which makes it somewhat odd that every meat-eating sim knows so many of them.) Now, I'm pretty sure there are ways to hide the extra meals (with NRaas, maybe?), but I didn't want that, because I do appreciate giving my Sims the option to cook vegetarian dishes where applicable, and to have more variety in their lives in general. I thought it would be a significant improvement if only the names of the vegetarian dishes were changed to make them more interesting and relevant. So! I learned how to make a string table mod so I could do that!

...continued on MTS."

More Info + Download @ MTS.

[koscheys-skull]

Bullying, Mean, and Honest Truths About Spirituality

Under the cut is an honest and crude description based off of my own bias and opinion of new people joining Spiritual practises, the occult, or seeking magic and mysticism.

So you want to start practising the Occult.

You are drawn to the idea of Mysticism, Magic, the Occult, and “Witchcraft”. Let me say that again, but louder.

You.

Are Drawn.

To the IDEA Of Mysticism, Magic, the Occult and “Witchcraft.

A lot of people like the idea of pets.

Pets are fun! You get a cat or a dog and they hang around and you imagine yourself going for long walks or hikes with a canine companion, or sitting at home and enjoying the company of a furry feline. Maybe it isn’t a dog or a cat or a common household pet. Maybe you want a bird! They are fun, right?

You see people on the internet through videos on whatever platform you’re wasting your hours on. You fantasize about what you would do or have. You spend hours entertaining this fantasy while looking at everyone else’s lives and situations.

You are drawn to the idea of something.

And then you ignore the important detail that these things require work, time, and dedication.

The Occult is just like people and pets.

There’s more people that i know that should not have pets than people that I know are responsible pet owners.

This, for me, is the same with the occult. Only, if you choose to neglect the Occult practise you claim to be drawn to, there isn’t really a penalty like a vet bill or a dead creature that you were supposed to be responsible for, for your negligence.

“Oh, I’ll just pick a “class” like an RPG and I’ll roll with it.”

Will you though? Will you dedicate the time and energy to do research on the subject matter you claim to be interested in? And not only will you give it the time and energy to just begin with the research, but will you also put in the dedication to put it into practice?

Be realistic with yourself. What are you actually going to do? Are you capable of maintaining routines and managing yourself and keeping up with the demands of the occult? Or are you just whimsically interested in it because it sounds “cool” and you had some friends in school that played with some tarot cards so now you think you’re a witch.

Let’s pretend you do actually have the self control and discipline to dedicate yourself to a spiritual path and practise. Let’s pretend you have that kind of integrity (but let’s be honest, you and I both know that’s a load of wash.)

Most likely, you’re coming from an Abrahamic Background, aren’t you? In the least, you’ve spent a lot of your life surrounded by vaguely misshapen ideas of “some sort of binary system where there’s good and bad spirits” or something or another and demons might be a thing? You don’t really know. But you took a class once that talked about Greek and Roman gods or maybe the Norse and Celtic gods, so you know there’s Gods out there! So that’s a START! Let’s go!!!!!!!!

You can just pick a god and run with it, right? Like, who cares? Just pick what makes you go “Yeah that’s neat and cool. I’ll take this out for a spin.” and pretend that you’re somehow deeply connected to this being. You read something or another about this deity or this pantheon at some point or another (or something like that). Just google search and read the Wikipedia page and waste a few more hours on it till you’re a Reddixpert on it! You have everything you need and a few days later you throw down a candle and incense and you’re blown away by feeling a strong connection to this god! HOLY COW! It’s working?! Let’s face it, you’ve not been connected to anything at all in your self obsessed life for a long time. So you think it’s “Special” when you get an answer. It’s not.

Sorry, sugar. You’re not special. You’re not a little special little sugar plum fairy that is adored by the gods. Because, believe it or not, you have to build relationships. But not just that, you’ve just pulled a “White Person” move. Most likely, you didn’t consult with or have any discussions with practitioners of the ethnicity and belief system you are interested in. Nor did you research the culture and how the religious and spiritual beliefs of those people manifest. I would suggest you learned some or a little bit or even all of the language of the people that the religion belonged to, but let’s be honest again with one another, you don’t have that in you for sure. You chose to take a God from a Pantheon and chose to take it entirely out of context. Congratulations! You pulled a White Colonialism Move so good that you took it to a spiritual level!

What? You thought you could just pick whoever from wherever and just rip them out of their culture, place, language, and people and water it down till it suited you? What is this, Wicca?

It might be! If this sounds like your idea of fun, check out Wicca. They’re full of it. You have gods from across all seas (Except for some reason the Pacific? Not sure if it’s a weird Asian racism problem or if they’re just focusing on everything the British Empire stole from) being Shipped together like smutty fanfiction. It’s insane. Anubis and the Morrigan are having babies every year, I guess, and their child, who’s always a Son, is the next Cernunnos who is also Pan but also Hades and also is Thor every third life (or something, I don’t know I’m not Wiccan).

What, you didn’t think that you actually had to respect a culture and the people that a religion belongs to? What are you, a pilfering bandit? There’s a right way and a wrong way to do these things. But what’s important is that you have to be honest.

Yeah that’s a big word. “Honesty”.

How honest are you with yourself? How true are you to what you think you can achieve and accomplish? Are you really going to read all of those books and write notes and document things? Are you really going to make a whole entire lifestyle change that surrounds and accommodates the culture, belief systems, and structures of a culture’s religion and beliefs? Are you? Are you really? If you make the change, are you going to commit to the change? Or, in a few weeks or months are you going to revert right back to the way you’ve always lived your life?

Again. This is the difference between enjoying the idea of something versus actually doing the work. And that is what the occult is. It is work.

Work. Work. Work. Work. Work. It is putting you on the grindstone and making you both rethink, reshape, and re-evaluate your entire being. It is going to make you uncomfortable. It is going to challenge you. It is meant to help you grow and be better. And growth doesn’t happen when you’re being spoon fed off of a lace spoon. Your idea of what things are is going to be challenged.

That’s another word that has a tendency to throw people out of the Occult. Challenge.

If you’re new to the Occult, you’re going to have to learn a critical skill that, in my opinion, very few possess.

Everyone wants to be “right”. It sucks when you’re wrong. How well do you handle it when someone corrects you. Let’s be honest. It’s awkward. It’s embarrassing. Everyone wants to be right. YOUR PRIDE IS SENSITIVE DAMNIT!

You’re a sensitive snowflake and you need to be swaddled in soft cashmere and reassured that you’re perfect because of course you are, sugar-pie.

But we have to touch some grass and live in reality. Yeah, I know the occult feels like you’re indulging a fantasy, but it’s not. Spiritual practises and spiritual beliefs are real things that have real people of many different cultures and languages and walks of life. And these practises are not just little badges and stickers you can throw on a water bottle and make yourself feel like a “Validated Witchy Bitch, Baby! ‘Cause we’re Feminist and COOL.”

(And by the way, you are not “The Daughters of the Witches you Couldn’t Burn”. Get fucked, you uneducated slut.)

You are going to have to approach everything, and yes I mean everything, with the air of caution in your heart and mind that says “Maybe I do not know what I am talking about.”

This is almost impossible for some (haha just kidding it’s pretty much everyone. I’m guilty of failing at this sometimes myself), to approach everything that someone says with an air of “Maybe this person knows more than me.”

When you engage with other people and you give them the space to speak about a subject that they are educated in, always be open. You must be so open that you automatically assume that you know nothing about the subject that someone is going to educate you on. Assume you have no education at all. And then listen. Yeah, I said it. You have to listen.

Listening??? To someone else??? Telling you what’s what???? Are you kidding me? What is this, a Learning Experience?

Yes, Yes it is you poor summer child. It is a learning experience. And if you can’t be bothered to learn and to try and learn then you’re not going to make it.

And if you can’t be bothered to listen, to read, to do work, to give effort, and to re-evaluate yourself constantly, you are not going to make it.

So make the choice.

Commit. Or walk away.

No one is going to think poorly of you for admitting that you’re not cut out for this.

But everyone. Everyone you interact with that is a real practitioner with a real lifestyle that encompasses their spiritual practise (because, surprise! The spiritual and the Mundane are intertwined in a very close and intimate way for practitioners) will be able to sniff you out from a mile away and know that you’re not worth your own salt.

It’s okay to be “casual” in some circumstances. It’s okay to be “subtle” or to follow paths that are more accommodating to your needs. That’s fine. Don’t get me wrong. This is a high energy and very taxing experience. There are paths that are accommodating to your needs and your degree or spoons, your laziness, or your life conditions. (I’m inclusive, dammit. Some people are disabled. Some are just fucking lazy. Some are kids with a fantasy fetish. I don’t know. I don’t care. Figure out which you are and make choices like an adult).

But don’t go picking a path or integrate yourself to a spiritual lifestyle that has high demands or you cannot adhere to. Not only is it disrespectful to the culture, the people, and the beings involved. But it’s not good for yourself, either. You will not benefit from the experience. You won’t make it anywhere and you’ll be left constantly feeling like a failure because you cannot accommodate the demands of a lifestyle and belief system that has expectations that are outside of your parameters to accommodate.

But back to YOU! Because let’s be honest, this is mostly about YOU. Everything is mostly about you and yourself. That’s just how a massive amount of people think. Which isn’t wrong, don’t get me wrong. But you have to be Self Aware. (I know most of you are not self aware. Get over it). When you set yourself up with all these fantastical expectations and then nothing progressive and fantastic happens with your practise, it is mostly because you failed to follow through with your own work. Something happened along the way where you struggled for some reason or another and you didn’t have the discipline and the integrity to keep up with something. And that feeling sucks. You feel “Let Down” by the Occult. But you let yourself down. In some way shape or form, you let yourself down. Because everything is about you, this means you have to be responsible for YOU. Yeah. I said it. You have to be responsible for yourself. No one’s wiping your Spiritual Ass for you. You have to do your own work and wipe your own spiritual butthole, and that also means cleaning up your own spiritual messes and doing the spiritual work and dedicating the time and dedicating the energy and making the changes to your life you need to make and then committing to them. It’s all Change, baby! And if you can’t handle change, then you can’t handle commitment to the occult.

And that’s okay! If you can’t handle some things, then DON’T FUCKING DO THEM?????

Maybe step away from that. And yeah, it’s okay to “try” some things to a degree. But please. For the love of fuck, approach them with the respect, dignity, and understanding that they deserve. Always approach a practise (And 99% of all practises have roots in SOME sort of ethnic culture!) with the respect it deserves. Do your best to adhere to those cultures and their beliefs and be as strict as you can while accommodating those traditions. They’re called “Traditions” for a reason. Treat them like they are sacred because they are. I shouldn’t have to explain to people that “Traditions of Spiritual Cultures are Sacred”, yet this post is being made because, quite clearly, this is a common issue.

I’m not “Gatekeeping” anything by saying this. I’m telling you to explore as much as you can. But when you do so, don’t explore different spiritual practises and traditions like the tourists that make the locals want to commit a homicide. Which is how so many people getting into the occult treat Traditions they are exploring.

You want to be a good and a welcome guest. You can’t just trample whatever you feel like because you’re too self centred with your selfie stick in Greece to be aware that you’re disrupting people trying to live their daily lives. The locals should want you. Try to connect to the people and their language and culture. Don’t just stand in their ways and think their society should accommodate you because you’re visiting.

It is okay if something turns out that it isn’t for you. Be honest about it. Be respectful about it. Thank the people and the culture and those gods for their time for being Gracious Enough to Host you. And then move on. A little respect goes a long, long way.

The Occult and Spiritual practises opens the way for you to re-think everything that you believe and to apply new ideas, beliefs and principles to yourself to help you grow and explore yourself and your connection to people and places with deeper understanding.

Be honest.

Be open.

You have to grow. And if you are interested in the Occult, Spirituality and Mysticism, get ready because there’s going to be so many growing pains.

And if you can’t handle that,

Then why are you here?

[im-so-normal-iswear]

A míI wondered if you could make yandere espió, vector y a Silver, With a gender-neutral reader, who is a baker and who at the same time likes will please everyone with his desserts?

Thank you , and sorry if my English isn't good, you don't have to do it if you don't want to.

A/n: no problem!

Yandere!Espio/Vector/Silver x Reader who loves baking

Espio:

Espio had always been one to stay in the shadows, observing from a distance. It started innocently enough, he had been tasked with keeping an eye on the neighborhood for suspicious activity.

Someone had mentioned a new baker in town, and curiosity led him to your bakery one morning.

The moment he opened the door, the sweet scent of freshly baked bread greeted him. You smailed as you waved to him as he stepped in, your eyes crinkling at the corners, and Espio felt an odd flutter in his chest.

He brushed it off as nothing at first, just an appreciation for your craft. As he visited more frequently, sampling your muffins and cookies, the feelings only rooted deeper.

Espio admired your dedication, the way you poured your heart into every creation, but it was more than that. You treated everyone with kindness, that unrelenting warmth was intoxicating, and Espio hated how others took advantage of it. They didn’t deserve your attention. Not like he did.

You started noticing strange things happening around the bakery. A customer you'd mentioned was rude one day stopped coming altogether. When you asked around, no one could give you a clear answer about where they'd gone.

A particularly persistent admirer who hung around too long suddenly stopped showing up, too. You chalked it up to coincidence, but Espio would stand silently outside, watching, ensuring no one overstayed their welcome.

He loved how oblivious you were to his subtle interference. It gave him a sense of control, of keeping you safe without you even knowing. But as his feelings grew stronger, so did his jealousy. Every laugh you shared with a customer, every compliment you offered someone else felt like a dagger to his heart.

He started slipping notes under your door at night, written in elegant calligraphy, praising your talent and devotion. You thought they were sweet gestures from an anonymous admirer, but Espio relished the thought of how close he was to you without you realizing it.

The day you offered him a personal batch of dango he nearly broke his stoic demeanor. You had made them just for him, you said. Did you know what that meant to him? Probably not. But to Espio, it was a declaration of love. And he wasn't about to let anyone else take that away from him.

Vector:

Vector was loud, brash, and utterly smitten from the moment he stepped foot into your bakery. He wasn't even supposed to be there, Charmy had begged him to stop in because he'd heard about your chocolate tarts. he wasnt interested in tarts at all, nit at the time at least, but when he saw you everything changed.

You handed him a tart with that warm smile of yours, and it was like a thunderbolt struck his heart. He'd never tasted anything so sweet in his life, and it wasnt just the dessert. It was you. You had this way of making him feel like the center of the universe, even when you were serving a dozen other customers. It wasn't long before Vector was finding excuses to visit every single day.

"Got any new recipes today?" he'd ask, leaning on the counter with a wide grin. He didn't care what you gave him, everything you made was a masterpiece in his eyes. But what really hooked him was how you always remembered his favorites. That personal touch made him feel special, like he mattered more than anyone else.

Vector's feelings quickly spiraled into obsession. He started bringing you little gifts, flowers, trinkets, even some expensive baking supplies he thought you might like. (Rest of chaotix wasnt thrilled with the excessive money spending) At first, you found it endearing, but then he started showing up unannounced after hours, claiming he was "just in the neighborhood."

One night, as you were closing up, you turned to find him standing in the doorway with a sheepish grin. "Thought you might need some help carrying stuff," he said. You didn’t want to be rude, so you let him stay. But as the weeks went on, his visits became more frequent, his presence more suffocating.

Vector couldn't stand seeing you serve other customers with the same kindness you showed him. He started scaring off anyone who looked like they were getting too close, his booming voice and imposing stature enough to make most people think twice about hanging around. He even tried to convince you to hire him as security, saying you needed someone to "keep an eye on things."

You laughed it off, but Vector wasn't joking. He’d do anything to protect you, even if it meant keeping you all to himself.

Silver:

Silver's obsession was quieter, more insidious. He didn’t stumble into your bakery by chance, he was drawn to the warmth and happiness radiating from it. Coming from his world, your little shop from sonics was a beacon of hope.

The first time he saw you, he was too shy to come in. He watched through the window as you handed out cupcakes to a group of children, your laughter carrying through the glass. You looked so... perfect. Untouchable. But Silver couldn’t stay away. The next day, he worked up the courage to step inside, his heart pounding as you greeted him.

Silver was awkward at first, fumbling over his words as he tried to order. But you were patient, helping him choose something from the menu, and he left with a bag of pastries and a heart full of newfound affection. From that moment on, he was hooked, not just on your baking, but on you.

Unlike Espio and Vector, Silver's jealousy didn’t manifest in overt ways. Instead, he used his powers to subtly manipulate situations. If someone seemed too interested in you, their car might mysteriously break down, or they'd lose something important and have to leave. Silver didn't want to scare you, he just wanted to protect you. To keep you safe from anyone who might take you away from him.

He started spending more time at your bakery, sitting at a corner table with a book or sketchpad. He told himself it was harmless, that he just liked being near you. But as his feelings deepened, so did his obsession. He began sketching pictures of you, filling page after page with drawings of your smile, your hands as you kneaded dough, the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about a new recipe.

Silver dreamed of a future where it was just the two of you, baking together in a quiet little home far away from the rest of the world. He even started practicing his own baking skills, hoping to impress you. One day, he brought you a loaf of bread he'd made, his cheeks turning pink as he handed it to you. It wasn't perfect, but you praised his effort, and that small moment of encouragement only fueled his obsession further.

As time went on, Silver's desperation to keep you close grew. He started leaving little notes tucked into your apron pockets, each one more heartfelt than the last. You thought they were sweet, but you had no idea how deeply his obsession ran, or how far he was willing to go to make sure you were his and his alone.

[myloversgone]

Dean x OFC: Short and Sweet

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Maisie (OFC)

Warnings: +18. Trigger warnings: Abusive relationship. Emotional negligence. Physical abuse. OFC’s boyfriend is a jackass. Smut. P in V. Unprotected sex (it’s fiction, people). Porn but also fluff and romantic, because it’s me.

Summary: When Dean was introduced to one of Sam’s old friends from Stanford, he didn’t expect his whole world to change.

Word count: ~15K (I’M SO SORRY, IT’S BEEN TOO LONG SINCE I WROTE SOMETHING, OKAY)

A/N 1: This story is set during the first seasons, probably around year 4. Don’t know exactly how long it would’ve taken Sam to finish Stanford, but I believe it would be around four years, so let’s imagine the brothers are young. Dean’s behavior in the beginning is also more like in the first seasons, so bear with me.

A/N 2: I have my very first original character! That’s scary. The image of her came to my mind so clearly, I couldn’t just ignore it. I kept writing and imagining her, it couldn’t be Y/N this time. It sucks that I can’t draw a straight line to save my life, ‘cause I wanted so badly to draw her so you guys can see her the way I do!

Anyways, I hope this story doesn’t suck too much. I wrote three versions of it before deciding this one was the best way to tell it.

A/N 3: I started writing this fic in May, 2022, and could only finish it now. The plan was to post it on Dean’s birthday, but it wasn’t possible, unfortunately. Life has been chill lol.

Enjoy the reading and don’t forget to leave feedback!

MASTERLIST

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first time Dean saw her, was in a picture. The corners of the photo were in shreds; it was folded in the middle, forever creased from being kept inside Sam’s wallet for so long. Despite its poor state, Dean would never forget it.

"Hey, Dean", Sam had called.

"Yeah?"

"How do you feel about going to a party?"

Dean, who had been searching for a clean shirt in his duffel bag, immediately stopped what he was doing, turning around and staring at his younger brother.

"Excuse me? Are you feeling ok?", he asked, brow raised.

"Seriously, dude”, Sam replied, rolling his eyes. “It's a friend's party", he let his arms fall on his sides, exasperated.

"What friend? You don't have any friends", Dean mocked.

"I do, actually. This is Maisie", he extended the crumpled photo to Dean. It showed a younger Sam during his Stanford era, standing next to Jessica and another girl, whom Sam was pointing at. "I met her in college. She's graduating now, so she invited me over for a party at her house. She knows we’re in California".

Dean looked at the picture with growing interest. The younger version of Sam was smiling in the photo, with Jessica standing between him and the other girl. Sam had his arm around Jess’ shoulders, and the girl had her arm linked with the blonde’s. They were all smiling. Maisie, Sam said that was the girl’s name. She had brown hair, styled in a pixie cut that gave her an edgy look. Her big, rounded eyes were brown too. Her cheeks were flushed and her captivating smile reached her eyes. It wasn’t a full body picture, but Dean could tell the girl was short, because Jessica was way taller than her.

"She's cute”, he elbowed Sam. “Is she single?”

"Dude, no. She has a boyfriend, but he’s a douchebag. His name’s Eric and they met in Stanford too". Sam shrugged, making a disgusted face.

"Huh. And what's so special about her that makes you want to go to her party?". Dean crossed his arms in front of his chest, ready to hear the answer.

"Maisie’s the nicest girl, Dean. She introduced me to Jess. They were friends first, I met her and then it was the three of us against the world”, Sam smiled, reminiscing about a special time of his life. “I miss her a lot. Remember I went to a friend’s parents’ funeral, like, two years ago? It was her mom and dad. Poor girl’s been through hell. Also… she knows about what we do", Sam said, grimacing and lowering his voice, as if he was confessing a crime.

"What?", Dean was surprised with the fact that Sam told someone about their biggest secret.

"I helped her with a witch once. She hid hex bags all over Maisie’s dorm. That’s how we met, actually. So I ended up telling her", he shrugged.

"Oh, well, one day you’re gonna have to tell me the whole story of the witch of Stanford. Anyways, I didn't know you were still in touch with people from college", Dean stated.

Sam sighed. "Actually, Maisie’s the only one I still talk to. But, look, Dean, if you don't wanna go, fine. I’ll go alone".

"Wait, who said I don't wanna go? Of course I wanna go! Hot chicks and free booze? When do we leave?", said Dean, rubbing his hands together and grinning.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first time Dean saw her in person, he won’t forget either.

He and Sam arrived at Maisie’s when it was just getting dark. Her house was small but cozy looking, and the path leading to the spacious backyard was decorated with hanging light bulbs. Dean could hear voices and the clink of glasses, along with some music, coming from the back.

“This is the house her parents left for her”, Sam explained.

“How did they die?”, Dean asked, closing the Impala’s door and walking to his brother’s side.

“Car accident. Pretty awful”, Sam shook his head, pausing when he saw someone coming from the end of the lighted path as they stepped on the entryway.

Having heard the sound of the car, Maisie came to check. Dean was right: she was short. He found it cute. Her face lit up when she saw Sam and, as the old friends hugged, he couldn’t help but notice her toned, thick legs. She was wearing a light green summer dress with little white flowers drawn all over it, matched with a pair of white Chuck Taylors.

Don’t know why, but I already like everything about her, Dean thought, watching the girl with growing interest.

"I'm so glad you're here, Sam!", Maisie greeted, holding the younger Winchester’s hand.

"I'm glad to be here too, Maisie. Congratulations!", Sam gave her another quick side hug, making the girl smile grow wider.

"Thanks! I'm a lawyer now, so you know who to call if you ever need one", she winked at him, hinting at their little secret.

"Well, if he doesn't call you, I certainly will", Dean interrupted the friends’ conversation, since Sam hadn’t introduced him yet.

"Oh, sorry, this is my brother Dean. Dean, this is Maisie", Sam said, finally.

"Nice to meet you, Maisie", Dean shook her hand, eyes taking in her beautiful, soft features.

"Nice to meet you too, Dean. Sam told me a lot about you", she said, remembering all the times Sam mentioned his brother, always with love and admiration.

The feeling of Dean’s warm, big hand around hers brought a sense of security she hadn’t felt in a while. Even if she didn’t know he was Sam’s brother, Dean would be a person she would trust immediately. He just had that aura.

"Only good things, I hope", Dean joked, winking at her. He deliberately let his fingers linger a little, the softness of her skin drawing him in.

"Oh, yeah! You’re the best brother ever, apparently", she shot back, earning a grin from him.

"He's right about that", was Dean’s reply, and it made Maisie laugh. She didn’t think she’d ever met someone as handsome as Sam’s brother. He looked like he came directly from the pages of a magazine, a Hollywood movie or something. In his jeans and a worn-out oversized leather jacket, he was simply stunning. She couldn’t help but avert his piercing gaze, feeling suddenly shy with the intensity of it.

"So, Maisie, where's Eric?", Sam asked. Not that he cared about the guy; he was just asking because he knew Eric from before. It would be weird not to ask.

"Oh, he- uh, he had a work thing, so-", she tried to explain, tugging an invisible strand of hair behind her ear, nervously.

"He didn’t come", Sam finished, incredulous. Even though he was already familiar with the way Eric seemed to undervalue the important moments of Maisie’s life, he couldn’t help but hope the guy had finally changed.

Her eyes became teary, and Dean hated seeing her like this.

Noticing Dean’s gaze, she recomposed herself, chuckling humorlessly. "Yeah, you guessed it right. But it doesn’t matter, I’ve already dealt with that”. Without giving any more details, she clapped her hands together and looked from one brother to another, shoving the resentment over Eric’s actions down. “So, you guys want some beer?", she pointed over her shoulder to the inside of the house.

"I'm fine for now, thanks. I'm gonna go say hi to the rest of the gang", answered Sam, looking over his shoulder to the corner of the house, where he could see some of his old classmates among Maisie's guests hanging out in the backyard.

"I'll take that beer", said Dean. Not only he never said no to a beer before, but he also hoped to spend some time with her. For some reason, he took an immediate liking to Maisie. She seemed very nice. And she was pretty.

"Great! Come with me", she said, turning and gesturing for him to follow.

Once inside, Dean noticed right away that the outside of the house gave a perfectly good idea of how the inside looked. The place was cozy, small and neat. He didn’t remember ever being in a typical countryside home, but he was pretty sure it would look somewhat like Maisie’s home, maybe a little bigger.

He looked around while she opened the fridge and grabbed two bottles, opening them, giving one to Dean and leaning against the kitchen counter. When she led the bottle to her lips, Dean noticed that her right hand was bandaged.

"What happened to your hand, if you don't mind me asking?", he questioned, taking a sip of the cold beverage.

"Oh, I hurt it while I was hanging the lights. The ones at the entrance. Eric was supposed to help me but, as you know, he didn’t show up, so…", she left the sentence incomplete, shrugging as if it was nothing, but Dean could tell she was upset about it.

"It seems like your boyfriend is not very… present", he commented, trying to take it easy on his disapproving tone, but failing to do it.

"Yeah, you can say that", Maisie replied, her voice barely audible.

“Sorry about that”, Dean said and approached her, gently holding her hand and looking at the bandage, just to make sure she dressed the wound properly.

The girl felt her heart racing. She knew Dean and Sam got hurt a lot. Their job was scary and dangerous, so Dean was probably just seeing if she had taken good care of the wound. But that was exactly what made her heart skip a couple of beats. I mean, how sweet is it that he barely knows me and is being so nice already?, she thought.

Maisie felt an urge to get closer to him, to open her heart and let him in. The last time she did that was with Eric, and it hasn’t worked well. But, somehow, she knew Dean was different.

“I wish that was the worst thing he’d done”, she said, more to herself than to Dean.

“Sorry?”, Dean raised his head, still holding her hand.

“E- Eric, I mean. He also didn’t come to my parents’ funeral’, she explained, knowing it was too late to ask Dean to let it go. Might as well finish what I’ve started.

"Wow. I'm sorry, but that's fucked up, Maisie". A mixture of anger and pity, that was what Dean was feeling. Maisie was a good person, based on what Sam said. And even if she weren’t, what kind of boyfriend doesn't go to his girlfriend's parents' funeral?

"I'm sorry, Dean. I- I don't know why I said that out loud", she took her injured hand away from his and placed the tips of her fingers on her temples, rubbing lightly. She didn’t want his pity. She wasn’t sure of why she shared that particular story with him, but she was regretting it now.

"No, it's fine. It's not okay that he wasn't there. Or that he ain't here", he added, standing by her side and leaning against the counter too.

"Yeah. But it’s ok. Thanks for saying that, though. Should we go outside?", she asked and forced a smile, deciding it was best to enjoy the night and forget about things that weren’t as good as she wanted.

Dean shrugged. "I wouldn't mind staying here talking to you for a bit more, but yeah, let's go".

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Another thing Dean would never forget was how easy and fun that night was.

Most of it was because of Maisie. She was such a good hostess, always making sure people were comfortable, well fed and with their cups full.

Her guests involved some friends and former colleagues, along with two cousins; no more than a dozen people. Everyone was nice and friendly, and Dean could tell Sam was enjoying being amongst people he knew outside the hunting world. For a moment, his mind wandered: how would life be if they were normal, 20-something dudes? Would they go to a lot of parties? Would Sam and Jess be married by now?

Despite the wandering thoughts, Dean was having fun too. Maisie included him in every conversation. He was the outsider, after all. She sat by his side and touched his hand and arm often, not letting him close himself off or feel intimidated by the group of Stanford’s nerds, as she was calling her friends, which made Dean chuckle.

As the night went on, Dean felt more and more drawn to her. Hell, he knew getting involved with someone who was in what it seemed like a complicated relationship was the fastest way to walk right into a huge problem. But he couldn’t care less this time. He wanted Maisie, and he had a feeling she might want him too.

So Dean flirted with her a few times, trying not to be too obvious. He didn’t want her thinking he was just trying to get laid, because he wasn’t. His first goal was to make her feel wanted and valued. He had a feeling Eric didn’t do that very often.

When the pizzas she'd ordered arrived, he got up from his seat and offered to help bringing them to the backyard.

"Thanks, Dean", she smiled at him, accepting the offer and assessing his face, trying to understand why he was being so nice.

"No worries, sweetheart".

The endearment made her blush. Maisie was finding it hard to believe Dean was real. He was too handsome for his own good. From the freckled skin to the dark blonde hair and the green eyes, he was damn perfect. Plus, he was funny and nice to everyone. She was fascinated with him.

Deciding she might as well enjoy the attention she wasn’t used to getting, she hooked her arm in his and led him to the front yard, where the delivery guy was waiting.

They grabbed the pizzas and went inside the house again. Dean waited while Maisie was looking for some paper plates.

“Ugh”, she complained, getting on her tiptoes so she could search inside a high cupboard, “I could’ve sworn those plates were somewhere in here”.

Smiling at her efforts to reach a door that was way too high for her height, Dean walked to her, extending his arm and easily retrieving the plates and handing them to Maisie.

She smiled and crossed her arms in front of her chest, which made Dean stare at her boobs for like two seconds. He couldn’t really help himself. She didn’t seem to notice, and was faking annoyance with the fact that he was so much taller than her.

“That was a little humiliating, Winchester, but thanks for the help”, she joked, taking the plates and patting his arm lightly.

He laughed. “Sure. What kind of man would I be if I saw a pretty lady in distress and had done nothing about it?”, Dean teased a little more, making her smile widen.

“What a gentleman!”, Maisie shook her head, motioning for him to follow her outside.

In the backyard, they placed the pizzas on a table at the corner and Maisie gave each guest a plate, inviting them to help themselves to the food. She and Dean grabbed a slice each and went back to sit at their previous chairs.

“Tell me, Dean”, she started, after swallowing a considerably big bite of her slice, “how are you single?”.

He stared at her with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong”, she continued, noticing he was surprised with the sudden question. “You’re a nice, smart guy. You have a cool car - yes, I’ve seen her when you guys arrived, and Sam told me all about your Baby -,” she added when he smiled, pleased to know she noticed his most beloved possession, “and you’re obviously very good looking. And yet, you’re here, hanging out with your brother’s friend, in a party full of Law school nerds. Why aren’t you out there, at some cool bar, flirting with some tall, busty blonde?”. Maisie shook her head, honestly trying to find some explanation for why Dean was there, at her house, where he could literally be fooling around with any woman in town.

Dean chuckled, and Maisie found it cute how his ears turned red when she complimented him.

“Well, first of all, thanks. Second of all, don’t think so little of yourself. Sam told me you know what we do for a living”, he whispered the last part, getting closer to her, and his hot breath formed goosebumps on her skin. “So you also know we don’t usually go to normal parties. Fuck, who am I kidding? We never go to any party, period. That being said, it’s been fun hanging out with you and your friends. Especially with you. It’s nice to talk about normal stuff, being around normal people”, he shrugged, and she could see he was being honest. Maisie felt sorry for him. He had to face so many scary, dangerous things, and could never enjoy a break, something as simple as eating pizza and drinking beer with friends in the backyard.

“Also”, he continued talking, bringing her back from her thoughts, “I had my time with busty blondes in bars. Now I prefer to hang out with pretty girls who happen to have good taste in beer”. Dean winked at her, biting at his lower lip, gaze switching from her eyes to her lips, making Maisie feel her insides clench.

Damn, he’s hot, she thought.

“So, I guess the reason why I’m single, aside from the life I live, I mean, is that all the beautiful girls who just graduated are stuck with jerks for boyfriends”.

Maisie laughed, finding his unashamed flirtation amusing.

“I said you’re nice, smart and handsome, but I forgot the most important part: you’re funny too!”, she exclaimed, playfully punching his arm.

He smiled back, and she shook her head, looking down and becoming serious again.

“I broke up with Eric, Dean”, Maisie confessed, surprising Dean.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Earlier today, before you and Sam arrived, I texted him, because everyone else was already here, except for Eric. He texted me back ‘can’t make it, stuck at work’”, she chuckled, humorlessly. “The bastard didn’t even say he was sorry. So I paid him the same respect he paid me. I texted back, saying he shouldn’t bother showing up ever again, that I didn’t wanna see his face and it was all over between us. He never answered”, Maisie finished, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this, Maisie. But, for what’s worth, I think you did the right thing. He doesn’t deserve you”, Dean stated, green eyes staring into her dark ones, the intensity of his stare making her heart race.

“Our relationship was over way before today, to be honest. But thanks for saying that, Dean”.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart”.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Around 11:30 P.M., people started to leave. Sam, Dean and one of Maisie’s cousins were the only ones still there.

Maisie was leaning against the table, chatting with her cousin and stealing glances at Sam and Dean. They were helping her put all the trash that was scattered around the backyard in a bag. Dean noticed she told something to the girl and pointed her chin in their direction, walking towards them a second later, towing the cousin by the girl’s hand.

“Sam”, Maisie called, making Sam get up from where he was crouched, picking up some plastic cups and dirty napkins from the floor.

“Can you do me a favor and drive Betty home? She lives on the other side of town with our aunt Theresa, who’s an old lady and can’t be alone for too long. Would you give her a ride, please, so she doesn’t have to wait for a cab?”, Maisie explained.

“Of course!”, Sam agreed immediately, looking at Dean, who was already fishing the car keys from the front pocket of his jeans. They both noticed that Maisie asked for Sam to give Betty a ride home, and not Dean, so she obviously wanted him to stay.

Sam caught the keys Dean tossed at him, and Dean watched the corners of his mouth turn up into a smirk. Sam didn’t say anything, but he knew his older brother well, and he also knew Maisie. He’d noticed their behavior the whole night and how they got along. Him driving Maisie’s cousin to the other side of town was the perfect excuse for them to be alone.

After Sam left with Betty and they were done cleaning up, Dean tied the trash bag and placed it on the side of the house. Maisie was waiting for him at the backdoor, holding some leftover pizza and the paper plates that weren’t used.

They both entered the small kitchen and Dean leaned against the counter, watching while she silently put everything back in its place.

"So", he started, getting her attention, "that was a good party".

"Thanks", Maisie replied, smiling. "I'm glad you guys came. I mean, I finally got to meet the famous Dean Winchester", she joked, that beautiful blush rising on her cheeks again.

He chuckled, lowering his head and scratching his neck. Maisie only knew Dean for a few hours and she already noticed the gesture meant he was nervous. She found it cute.

"Don't know about the famous part, but I'm glad I got to know you too", he stated while she walked to lean on the counter by his side.

"Yeah? What is it about me that made you glad to be here?", she asked, looking up at him through her thick lashes.

Dean decided to go along with her flirting. She was hot, sexy in a very particular way. She was small, with thick legs, wide hips and a round, ample ass. Her short hair made her look younger than she actually was, and the big rounded eyes added to it. All of that only added to the fact that she was sweet, kind, and funny.

“Huh, let’s see. You’re pretty impressive. I mean, you went through with college, became a lawyer, despite all the shit that happened in your life”, he pondered. “That alone is already awesome. Also ‘cause you’re obviously important to Sam. He wouldn’t come to anyone’s party. Thanks for being a good friend to my brother, by the way”. Dean took her injured hand in his, rubbing her fingers lightly with his thumb.

“You’re welcome”, she said in a low voice. “He’s a great dude”.

“Yeah, he is”, Dean agreed, the pride obvious in his tone. “Oh, how I wish all Sammy’s friends were as easy on the eyes as you are”, he shook his head and tsked, as if he was stating something very, very serious and upsetting.

That made her laugh out loud. She came closer to him, still chuckling, and raised her head to stare into his beautiful green eyes. Dean placed one hand on her cheek, thumb caressing her soft skin, while he kept the other hand on the counter, caging Maisie between his body and the furniture.

Her stare went to his lips and back to his eyes in a quick, almost imperceptible movement. She wanted to kiss him so badly. Her heart was racing, pounding against her chest.

She stood on her tiptoes to reach his face, and Dean slid his hand to the small of her back, supporting her and bringing her close to his body, when-

The sound of a loud honk startled them both, pulling them out of their lust haze.

“What the hell-?”, Maisie cursed, walking to the front door to see who was making such a loud noise that late at night.

Dean followed her to see a blue Prius parked in front of her house. The driver’s door opened widely and a guy got out of the car, stumbling.

“Eric?”, Maisie exclaimed, wide-eyed. “What the hell are you doing here? I told you not to come!”, she said while walking to him, doing her best to keep her voice down and not wake up the neighbors.

The guy came tripping on his own feet, raising his hands as a peace offering. “I know, darling, I saw your text. But I wanted to apologize. I was such a fool-”

“No, no, no”, Maisie interrupted him, raising her own hand to stop Eric mid-speech. “I won’t accept your apology this time, Eric. Just- just go home. You’re obviously drunk, I’m gonna call you a cab”, she turned her back to him, wanting to go inside the house and make the call, but he grabbed her arm, making her stop.

“I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me, bitch!”, he yelled, his grip making it impossible for her to free herself of his hold.

“Let go of me!”, Maisie demanded, turning around and trying to pull her arm, but he grabbed the other one, yanking her closer.

“I won’t let you break up with me!”, he screamed, his face contorting in a mug.

Everything was happening so fast. Maisie tried to take a step back and kick Eric between his legs, but Dean was faster; her was by her side in a second, shoving Eric away and putting himself between the drunk man and Maisie.

“Get away from her, asshole!”, he threatened, pointing a finger to Eric’s face, his other hand splayed on the guy’s chest to stop him from getting to Maisie.

“And who the hell are you?”, Eric questioned, in a drunk drawl, looking from Dean to Maisie, who was rubbing her arms where he had left red marks on her fair skin.

“Doesn’t matter who I am, she asked you to leave, so leave!”, Dean pushed him again, making Eric stumble in the direction of the parked car.

“Oh, so you’re fucking her? Just ‘cause I didn’t come to her stupid party with her stupid nerd friends, she’s already spreading her legs to another dude? I always knew you were a slut!”, Eric spat on the driveway, turning around and running to his car when Dean got closer to him, ready to throw a punch.

“Let him go, Dean. He’s not worth it”, Maisie asked, placing a hand on his back, and Dean stopped.

“Jackass”, Dean said while the other man cowardly drove away, tires screeching.

Dean turned around and went to her, placing his hands on her shoulders and assessing the bruises in both her arms. “Jesus Christ, Maisie, he hurt you. Are you ok?”.

“I’m- I’m ok. God, Dean, he’s super drunk. He’s gonna kill himself in that car”, Maisie said, worried. Tears were running freely down her face.

Dean was much more worried about her than about that piece of crap. But he understood her concern, and didn’t want Maisie to be even more stressed out than she already was.

“Let’s go inside and call the police, sweetheart. We can let them know there’s a drunk dude driving around”, he offered, and she accepted, leaning into his embrace.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Fifteen minutes later, they had talked to the police and reported Eric. Maisie refused to go to a police station and file a report on his assault. Dean argued, but she promised it was all over between them, that she wouldn’t let Eric be anywhere near her again.

“Besides, he’s probably gonna be arrested for DUI anyways”, she shrugged, not at all feeling sorry for her ex-boyfriend’s future problems with the police.

So Dean made her a cup of tea and they sat on the couch, him helping her put some ice on her bruised arms.

“You sure you’re ok?”, he asked for what had to be the tenth time.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine”, she answered, sniffing.

Dean watched her closer, just to make sure she wasn’t hiding anything.

“Hey, Maisie. Let me ask you something”, he started, and she nodded, signaling he could go ahead. “Has he ever- was he ever violent with you- before?”

She shook her head, but the fresh wave of tears in her eyes told Dean there was a “but” coming. “H-he broke a glass once, when he was really drunk, like today. We argued for the same reason: he wasn’t around when I needed him. I called him out for it, he got mad and threw a glass against the wall. But he never- put his hands on me like this before”, she explained.

Dean slid closer to her, gently catching her tears with his fingertips. “Good. I was afraid it wasn’t the first time he hurt you”.

“Yeah, no, he’s never done that before. Just, you know, didn’t show up, cheated on me and stuff like that”, she shrugged and rolled her eyes like it wasn’t a big deal.

“He cheated on you? Just when I thought he couldn’t be a bigger pile of shit”, Dean shook his head, jaw clenching.

She sighed deeply before answering. “He cheated once, that I know of. And I was stupid enough to forgive him and let him come back”.

“But- I mean, don’t get me wrong here, but… why haven’t you told him to fuck off then?”

Maisie chuckled at Dean’s question. “I guess I was so used to having him around… I mean, we started dating in my first year of college. Things were good between us, as far as I know, except for one or two things here and there. Then, my parents died and he didn’t come to their service. We had an argument that day, and it was the first time I thought about breaking up with him. My friends warned me, Sam included, but I was so scared of being alone, Dean”, she confessed, looking him in the eyes for the first time in a while. “I had just lost the two most important people in my life. I had no close family around, aside from Betty and aunt Theresa. I didn’t wanna lose Eric too, so I thought I should forgive him, make an effort on behalf of our relationship. It was stupid of me, I know”, she finished, covering her face with her hands, regretting her past decision.

“Hey, hey, no”, Dean called, reaching for her, circling her shoulders with one arm so he could give her a side hug. Maisie melted, leaning her cheek on his chest and exhaling a shaky sigh.

He kissed the top of her head, running his hand up and down her back. “You did nothing wrong. Sorry if my question made you think you did. It’s just- you’re such a great girl. I was having a hard time understanding why you were with a guy like him. But I see it now. I know it sucks to feel alone, like you have no one to be your home. I hope you know you don’t need him, Mais”.

Dean parted from her and placed his large hand on her chin, lifting her face up to look her in the eyes. “You’re beautiful, funny, smart, and you have friends all around that love you, sweetheart”, he caressed her jawline with his thumb, the rough pads of his fingers sending a shiver down her spine.

“I like when you say that”, she confessed, smiling under the tears.

Dean raised his eyebrows at her. “When I say what?”, he asked with a mischievous smirk.

“When you call me sweetheart. And ‘Mais’. Nobody ever called me that. I like the nickname. And I like hearing you say ‘sweetheart’”, she blushed furiously, to Dean’s amusement.

“Oh, good to know it makes you blush so prettily”, Dean teased, taking her hand in his and intertwining their fingers. He led their joined hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly, those green eyes never leaving her face.

Maisie’s teary eyes darkened. She wanted him so badly it was overwhelming, but it wasn’t the right moment.

“Dean, I-”

“Sorry”, he interrupted, letting go of her hand and running his fingers through his hair, spiking the soft strands even more. “I just thought- that you and I-”.

“Dean, hear me out”, she placed a finger over his plump lips, effectively shushing him. “I want this to happen, whatever this is, between you and me. I want… to get to know you. If you want to, that is. But I need to make sure it has nothing to do with Eric. With me being in need of comfort, or company, or about you protecting me from him - which I’m thankful for, by the way. I broke up with him and I’m fine with that, ready to forget all about him. Still, I need some time to gather my thoughts, to really understand how I’m feeling, what I’m feeling”, she paused there, grabbing her mug from the coffee table and taking a sip of tea. “I’m probably being so ridiculous right now, but I… I felt something for you the minute I saw you, Dean”, she gulped, scared about how he would react to her confession. If Maisie wasn’t always so rational, she would’ve probably taken things further with Dean that night. But she couldn’t do that. It wasn’t fair with either of them. Still, she knew, in her heart and mind, that she’d never met anyone who made her feel like that before.

Adorably, his ears turned red again. “Bashful” wasn’t an adjective she would use to describe Dean right away - especially because he flirted with her two minutes after they met. But she could already tell he was a complex character, and that was another thing about Sam’s older brother that drew her to him.

“I understand. I also felt something when I saw you earlier today… actually, when Sam showed me a picture of you, I was like ‘damn, she’s gorgeous’”, he revealed, grinning, and Maisie blushed with the compliment.

“Thank you, Dean. That’s very nice of you to say”, she replied, placing her hand over his on the couch. He turned his palm up and laced their fingers again.

“It’s true, though”, he shrugged, and they just sat there for a few minutes, staring at their joined hands until the sound of Dean’s phone made them jump slightly.

He got the phone from the coffee table. “Sam wants to know if he should come back to pick me up”, Dean read the text, looking up at Maisie with a questioning look.

She stared back at him with those big, doe eyes, and he immediately knew he should stay. Understandably, she wasn’t very comfortable with being alone.

“So, is it ok if I stay?”, Dean asked, making sure he got her right.

“I- I can’t ask more from you, Dean. You’ve done so much for me today-”

“No, no, no”, he interrupted, squeezing her hand in reassurance, “I’d rather stay, if that’s ok with you. I’ll feel better knowing you’re ok. I’ll tell Sam to go back to the motel and pick me up in the morning”. Dean smiled and Maisie smiled back, relieved.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“I can sleep on the couch, you know”, Dean said for the second time, while walking behind Maisie.

“No way, I have a guest room. I mean, it’s not much, it’s just the room that used to be mine, since now I sleep in the room that was my parents’”, she explained, opening the door and entering her former bedroom.

Three walls were painted in a pale lilac, while the fourth one, behind the bed, was purple. The marks on the painting signaled that there were posters or pictures glued there, probably from Maisie’s teenage years.

It was a spacious room with a big, comfy bed. Dean couldn’t even remember the last time he slept in one of those. He was glad for the comfort, but wished the circumstances were different. He wished Maisie didn’t need to be kept safe from a piece of crap like Eric.

“You think you’re gonna be ok in here?”, she interrogated, interrupting his thoughts.

“Hell, yeah”, he said, walking to the bed. “Sweetheart, if you saw the places Sam and I usually crash… this is a freaking palace!”

Maisie chuckled. “Good. There’s some blankets in the closet and towels, if you wanna shower. I’m gonna go to bed now. My room is next door, so just knock if you need something, ok? And make yourself at home”, she said, opening her arms and approaching to give Dean a hug.

“Sleep tight, sweetheart. I’ll be fine”.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first time they shared a bed was forever ingrained into Dean’s brain.

Dean woke up with a knock on his door. He listened for a second, just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming or imagining things.

Then he heard the knock again, followed by Maisie’s voice calling his name almost in a whisper. “Dean, can I come in?”

He sat up on the bed and told her to come in. She immediately opened the door, looking scared and pale.

“What’s wrong?”, Dean asked, patting on the bed by his side, signaling for her to sit.

“I- I had a nightmare, Dean”, she sat and he could see she was shaking. He held her cold hand, listening attentively. “He- he came for me again. I- I don’t wanna… Can I stay with you?”, she asked, looking up at him with tears in her beautiful eyes.

“Of course. Of course, sweetheart. Come here”, he said, laying on the bed and stretching his arm for her to fit by his side. She lifted the covers and laid down with her head against his chest, legs slotted close to his.

Dean engulfed her in his warmth, noticing she looked even shorter laying by his side, scared and vulnerable. He silently cursed Eric for making her feel like this.

Placing his arm around her waist, he pulled her closer, lips slightly brushing the top of her head.

“It’s gonna be ok, Maisie. I won’t let anything happen to you”.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dean didn’t know what woke him up the next morning. But, before even opening his eyes, he felt a warm, soft body against his. His mind filled the blanks in seconds, reminding him of everything that happened the day before, and how he ended up being someone’s big spoon.

Opening his eyes slowly, he didn’t dare to move an inch. His left arm was around Maisie’s waist, fingers laced with hers once more while she held his hand against her stomach. Somehow, both of her legs were trapped between his, slightly bended knees making her perfectly round butt fit to his front, enticingly close to his crotch.

Well, now he was very awake. Every inch of his body was fully awake. He wasn’t exactly used to waking up with a woman in his arms. It happened before, obviously, but he usually didn’t sleep, sleep with them. They would do the deed and he would leave. Or they would. So, yeah, Dean was finding it hard (pun intended) to know what to do to keep that sweet, sweet woman from thinking he was a perv.

He took his time appreciating the sensual curve of Maisie’s neck, her round, soft shoulders, and the dip of her waist, leading to her ample hips.

Behave, man. A voice in his head, that sounded remarkably like Sam’s, scolded him.

A few minutes passed and Dean remained still, listening to Maisie’s deep breaths. And then she started slowly moving, slowly waking up from what he hoped had been a restful sleep.

“Hmm”, she hummed, stretching her body and consequently pushing it closer to Dean’s.

“Morning”, he greeted, holding his breath.

“Morning”, Maisie replied in a cute, sleepy voice. “Sorry for invading your personal space”, she continued, gently trying to untangle from him.

“No need to apologize. I enjoyed it a lot”, he affirmed, smiling when she turned her neck to look at him.

“Me too. Thank you for staying, Dean”, she said, reaching to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Anytime, sweetheart”.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first time they kissed was totally unexpected.

They had breakfast together and Sam came to pick Dean up at around 10 AM.

Dean had promised Maisie they would come back to visit her as soon as possible, and made her promise to call and text so he would know she was ok. He also told her he planned to go to the police station and check if the cops really got to Eric.

Maisie walked him to the door when they heard the Impala’s honk.

“Ok, so I made you guys sandwiches for the trip, and some extra coffee”, she handed Dean a paper bag with the food, which he gladly accepted. “I also want to give you something else, as a thank you”.

“You don’t have to thank me, Mais-”, Dean started, but she interrupted by standing on her tiptoes and kissing on the lips, taking him by surprise. He quickly recovered, placing a hand on her cheek, deepening the kiss a little and guiding her into it, sliding his lower lip over hers and lightly sucking it.

When they separated, she was flushed. “Wow. You were the one who was supposed to win the prize, but I guess I was the lucky one”, Maisie smiled, lips tingling.

“I hope this is enough to convince you to let me come back…”, Dean said, scratching his neck.

“I cannot wait for you to come back. Now, let’s go so I can say goodbye to Sam”, she held his hand and guided him through the door in the direction of the Impala, parked on the street.

Dean was already missing her. It was hard for him to explain even to himself, but he wanted to protect Maisie, to keep her safe. At the same time, her fierceness and determination, the way she held her head up high, showing everyone she could kick their asses, Dean’s included, made him want to push her against the nearest wall and have his way with her in a not-so-sweet manner.

One thing Dean was sure of: he wanted more of that. More of her. He didn’t know when he was coming back, but he had every intention to keep his promise. He hoped his crazy life would allow him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

38 days later

When came back, things didn’t go the way he expected.

“Hey, Sammy”.

“Yeah”.

“So, I texted Maisie yesterday and asked if we could visit her. We’re done with this job and it’s not far from her. She said yes and invited us for lunch. Is that ok with ya?” Dean questioned without taking his eyes off the road.

“Sure”, the younger Winchester replied, proceeding to look at his brother with a smirk. “So you and Maisie have been in touch since you met her, huh?”

Dean glanced at him and shrugged. “Yeah, I mean… I was there when everything with Eric The Douchebag happened, so I kept checking to make sure she’s ok. Is that a problem?”, he challenged, raising an eyebrow.

“Not at all”, Sam’s smirk got wider. “But if you like her, you can tell me, you know?”, he provoked, knowing Dean would straight away deny having feelings for the girl.

“What? I don’t like her like that!”, was Dean’s immediate answer, earning a chuckle from Sam.

“But why wouldn’t you like her? Is there something wrong with her?”, the younger brother continued, pushing Dean’s buttons and knowing he would end up telling the truth.

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with her. She’s- she’s hot, funny, smart. She has great style, and she smells so good, man, and those big-”

“Ok, ok, ok!”, Sam interrupted, immediately regretting making Dean talk. “TMI, man. Let’s just go have lunch with Maisie”.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

3 hours later

When the Impala entered Maisie’s street, the Winchesters saw the police car and the ambulance parked in front of her house. Their hunter senses immediately went on full alert.

“Oh, fuck”, cursed Dean, parking on the other side of the street and taking the fake FBI badge Sam was already handing to him.

They both got out of the car and Dean was the first one to spot Maisie sitting on the back of the ambulance, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders while a paramedic finished assessing a cut on the left side of her forehead.

“You go check on her, I’ll talk to the cops”, said Sam, and Dean nodded, walking in the direction of the injured woman.

“Maisie”, he called while approaching the vehicle, his heart racing from both worry and relief to see she didn’t look seriously hurt.

“Dean!”, she exclaimed, getting up and throwing herself in his arms. Thankfully, that was the exact moment when the paramedic finished placing the dressing on her cut, otherwise she would have knocked the poor man out of the way.

“Sweetheart, what happened?”, he asked, hugging her tight and caressing her hair.

Maisie started crying the minute Dean finished his question.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, you don’t have to say anything. I’m here now, Sam’s here. I- We won’t let anything happen to you”, he shushed while she sobbed.

Dean took her hand and led her back to sit in the ambulance. Maisie was crying too much to speak anyways, so he looked at the paramedic, the silent question of what had happened evident on his concerned features.

“She was knocked out. Luckily, she was fast enough to dial 911 first, so they were able to get the guy on his way out. She’s gonna be fine. Just make sure she gets some rest and changes the dressing tomorrow, okay?”, the man explained, and Dean nodded and thanked him.

He didn’t need any further explanation to know who the guy who knocked her out was. Eric, for sure. Dean just knew from the way Maisie was acting, with how scared she looked. He felt rage rising inside his chest. He wanted to kill the motherfucker with his own hands. Break his teeth so he would learn how to behave like a decent person…

He kept holding Maisie in his arms and, as she started to calm down, Dean shoved his murderous thoughts down and directed his full attention to her.

“What do you wanna do, sweetheart? Do you wanna wait for the cops to finish with your house and go inside? Or do you wanna go somewhere else?”

“So- somewhere else, Dean, p-please. I don’t wanna go back in there. Not now”, she said between sobs.

Dean felt his heart breaking into a million pieces. If I get my hands on that bastard…

“Ok, let me just go tell Sam we’re going to a motel close to here, is that alright? Then you can shower and get some rest”, he questioned, looking into her brown eyes with gentleness and reassurance.

Maisie nodded and Dean placed a light kiss on her forehead. He walked to the front entrance of the girl’s house, where Sam was talking with two cops.

“Gentlemen”, he greeted. “Agent Perry, can I speak to you for a moment, please?”, he told Sam, using their fake FBI agents’ names.

The brothers walked away from the police officers, and Dean turned around to face Sam.

“I’m taking Maisie outta here, man. She doesn’t wanna stay. We’re going to that motel on the road that’s closer to here, the half-decent one. Did they tell you what the hell happened?”

“Yeah”, Sam let out a deep sigh and shook his head. “Eric broke in early in the morning, Maisie was still sleeping. He was drunk and screaming that they should get back together. She said no and told him to leave, so he started to lock all the doors and windows to stop her from escaping. The idiot was so drunk that he didn’t even realize she had her phone and was already dialing 911-”.

“That’s my girl”, Dean interrupted, proudly.

Sam chuckled. “Well, yeah, she was lucky they were fast, because when he came back to her room, he saw her putting the phone down and knocked her out with a plant vase. She passed out and the cops got him trying to escape on foot, just around the corner. He’s facing assault and breaking and entering charges. Considering he already has a record for DUI, he’s gonna be busy for a while”.

“Good. Good. Okay, so we’re leaving. Will you meet us at the motel once you’re done here?”, Dean asked, knowing Sam would take care of everything so he could be with Maisie.

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead. I’ll see if I can have a little chat with Eric at the police station and tell him to stay the fuck away from Maisie, if he manages to get out of jail anytime soon”, Sam said.

“Thanks, brother. Give him your worst”.

Looking back at Maisie and seeing that the cops were asking her some more questions, Dean took the time to go inside and get her a change of clothes. He didn’t know exactly what she would like to wear, but he grabbed a pair of sweatpants, t-shirts and underwear, putting everything inside a bag.

He noticed the broken vase on the floor of her room, where the cops were working, photographing and cataloging the crime scene. Giving a deep sigh, he did his best to control that rage again. Sam would make sure to let Eric know he better stay away. Now, Dean had to focus on taking care of Maisie. That was the most important task.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

On their way to the motel, they stopped quickly at a diner so Dean could get some burgers for lunch. Maisie kept saying she wasn’t hungry, but he would try to convince her to eat, eventually.

At the motel’s front desk, he asked for two rooms: one with two single beds for him and Sam, and another with just one bed, for Maisie.

“Okay, honey, the two singles I can provide, but the only other room available is with a queen size bed, is that ok?”, the nice old lady at the front desk asked.

“Yeah, it’s fine”, Dean answered.

He paid, got the keys, and went back to the Impala, where Maisie was waiting for him.

“All set, sweetheart. Should we go inside?”, he questioned, leaning down to look through the passenger window.

She nodded and they entered the first room, hers, together.

It was simple but apparently clean, recently renovated even. Dean was glad for it.

“Ok, Mais. I brought you some clothes, I’m gonna leave them here in case you wanna change. What do you wanna do now? Eat? Shower? Sleep? Talk to me?”, he offered, not trying to pressure her, but knowing it was good to push her into moving, doing something, instead of sinking into fear and sadness.

“I’m- I think I’m gonna take a shower first. Would you wait for me here?”, she asked, face bloated and stained with tears.

“Of course, sweetheart. I’m only leaving if you tell me to”, he winked at her, making himself comfortable on a chair at the corner of the room.

Ten minutes later, Maisie left the bathroom in an oversized t-shirt that reached the middle of her thighs. Dean couldn’t help but look at her smooth legs.

“Alright, should I leave now, or…?”, he asked, standing up and awkwardly trying to focus on her face and not on the fact that she looked so good wearing so little clothing.

“No”, said Maisie, walking up to Dean and stopping him from leaving by putting a hand on his chest. “I want you to stay with me, Dean”.

He looked at her hand splayed on his chest and then into her face, his heavy breathing revealing his uneasiness.

Maisie looked into his eyes, her own glistening with tears. “Thank you, Dean, again, for being here for me”, she said, sliding her small hand from his chest to his forearm, the delicate touch making him bite his lower lip.

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart. I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier to stop what happened this morning, I-“

“Hey”, she stopped him again, this time taking her hand to his cheek, enjoying the feeling of his stubble against her soft fingers, “There’s no way you could’ve known what would happen”. To Dean’s surprise, Maisie took a step closer to him, still caressing his face, leaving no space between their bodies. “I need to confess, Dean, that I’ve been thinking about you all the time since we’ve first met”, she tangled her fingers through the hair on the back of Dean’s neck, standing on her tiptoes and giving him a peck on the lips. “I’ve been thinking about how it would feel to be with you”, she continued, her lips a mere inch away from him, her warm breath pumping Dean’s blood right between his legs. “How it would be to have you so close, holding me, with nothing between us”. He felt her hardened nipples through her t-shirt and his, touching his abdomen. “What about you? Have you thought about me?”, she asked.

Once again, Dean’s resolution was hanging by a thread. Maisie was making very clear what she wanted, and Dean was torn between giving in to his own desire, and the small rational part of his brain telling him she was responding to trauma in an unhealthy way. “Every fucking second, sweetheart” he answered, honestly. The shine of lust in her eyes was what broke his attempt of being a better man. He held her face between his hand and leaned down, giving her a kiss that started tame, but then turned messy and full of want when he parted her lips with the tip of his tongue, making her moan into his mouth, responding with the same intensity.

Dean maneuvered them so he could sit on the bed and have her on his lap, legs around his waist. Running a hand over the smooth skin of her thigh, he stopped when his fingers were already under her t-shirt. Maisie pushed her breasts against his chest and sighed, while his lips went from her mouth to her collarbone, nibbling and sucking. She held his head as close as possible, trying everything to prevent him from stopping. Between her legs, she felt him hardening under his jeans, and she pressed herself further onto his lap.

“Fuck, Dean”, she moaned, and it woke him up from his arousal-induced trance.

“Mais. Maisie, we need to stop”, Dean asked, pulling away from her lips and closing his eyes to try to gather some self-control.

“Why?”, she asked, trying to capture his mouth in another kiss.

“‘Cause you’re not thinking straight”, Dean said. God knows how much he wanted to keep going. She smelled so good, she looked fantastic like that, freshly showered, with nothing on but her underwear and that oversized t-shirt. But he cared too much about her to take things further at that moment. She’d just been through a terrible trauma and, as a pro at avoiding feelings and acting like nothing wrong had happened, Dean knew exactly what she was doing.

“I don’t wanna think about anything, Dean”, she tried again, holding his plaid flannel by the collar and pushing it off of his shoulders.

“Ok, you don’t have to”, he insisted, gently taking her hands off of his shirt, getting up and sliding her body down to the bed.

Maisie felt ashamed. She hugged her knees and scooched up to lean against the headboard, embarrassed and humiliated by her behavior. Dean sat back next to her and gently caressed her cheek with his knuckles.

“Hey. It’s not that I don’t want you. You could feel how much I do, right?”, he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a shy smile.

She raised her head to look at him with tears pooling in her eyes, and nodded almost imperceptibly, cheeks flushed.

“I want you so bad, sweetheart. I just don’t want you to regret this. Don’t do this to forget about what happened. Do this for you. Do you get what I’m trying to say?”, Dean asked, his other hand now placed protectively on her knee.

Maisie nodded again. “I’m- I’m sorry, Dean”, she said, and the tears started to run freely down her face.

“No, no, no, you have nothing to be sorry for”. He went closer to her, placing one arm around her shoulders. “Everything is gonna be fine, ok? Don’t worry”, he reassured, kissing the top of her head and pulling her to his chest. Maisie wrapped her arms around him, letting Dean’s warmth heal her wounds.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was already dark outside when Sam finally got to the motel. After their talk, Dean convinced Maisie to eat and she finally fell asleep.

Sam knocked on the door and Dean went outside to talk to him, trying to not disturb Maisie’s sleep.

“Hey, took you long enough”, Dean greeted. “How was it?”

Sam took a deep breath. He looked tired. “Well, the idiot wanted to give me an attitude, but I kept the FBI agent cover. I told him Maisie had friends in the Bureau, and if he tried something funny again I would make sure his ass would stay in jail forever. It also helped that I’m much taller than him”, he smirked, making Dean chuckle.

“Thanks, man. He actually deserves life in jail for what he put her through”, Dean stated, looking inside the room through a crack on the door.

“How is she doing?”, Sam asked, pointing to the room with his head.

“She’s… she’s ok, considering. I managed to get her to eat, but she didn’t want to talk about what happened, so I’m giving her some space. She’s asleep now. Here’s the key to the room next door. I’m gonna stay until Maisie wakes up. I don’t want her to find herself alone and think I left or something…”, Dean explained.

“Okay, yeah, you’re right. I’m gonna try and sleep a bit too. But call me if you guys need anything, ok?”, Sam assured and Dean agreed, going back inside the room.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was almost midnight when Maisie woke up. The first thing she did after opening her eyes was look for Dean. He was sitting in the chair at the corner of the room, soundly asleep. His head was leaning on his left shoulder in a way that would surely make his neck hurt like a son of a bitch later.

Maisie got up and went to him, gently shaking his arm.

“Dean? Wake up”.

“Huh?”, he groaned, immediately opening his eyes and sitting straight.

“Hey, didn’t wanna scare you. You should come to bed”, she said, noticing how cute he looked even groggy with sleep.

The barely-awake state didn’t stop Dean from noticing Maisie told him to come to bed and not to go to bed. But he didn’t want to assume anything.

“Well, Sam’s back, so I’m just gonna join him at the room next door”, he got up and rubbed his sleepy eyes.

Maisie averted his eyes and blushed. “I- I was hoping you would stay…”

“I can also do that”, Dean reassured, smiling at her. He didn’t want her to think he was trying to avoid her. He would definitely feel better staying and knowing he would be close in case she needed him. “I’m gonna make myself a bed next to you and-”

“No”, she held his arm, stopping him from going in the direction of the tiny closet next to the bathroom. “The bed is big enough for both of us”, she blushed deeper.

“Are you sure?”, Dean questioned.

“I’m sure, Dean. I’ll behave, I promise”, she joked, in an attempt to dismiss the lingering embarrassment.

“C’mon, I didn’t mean it like that”, Dean started. “I’m just trying to say you don’t have to worry about me, I’m fine sleeping on the floor”.

“But I’m not”, she shot back. “I’ll be fine if you sleep on the bed”. She would never feel comfortable asking him to stay and then make him sleep on the floor.

“Ok”, he said. “I’m just gonna wash my face and be back in a second then”.

Dean left the bathroom a few minutes later, holding his jeans, plaid shirt and belt on one hand. He was down to his black t-shirt and boxers in the same color. Maisie was already in bed, laying on her side, covers pulled up to her shoulders.

“Is it ok if I sleep in my underwear?”, he asked, leaving his clothes on the chair and walking to the opposite side of the bed.

“Of course”, she answered, trying to sound casual while not at all feeling like that.

Even though they had slept in the same bed at her house the first time they met, it was dark and Dean was under the covers, so she didn’t really have the chance to see him. This time though, she had a full view: strong, thick, slightly bowed legs, firm and round ass, beautiful forearms speckled with freckles, wide shoulders. Maisie felt a tug in her lower belly. If she was attracted to him before, now she was even more sure she wanted to have her way with the fine man that was Dean Winchester.

But Maisie closed her eyes and focused on falling asleep and, ideally, stay away from Dean. Maybe he was right and she did chose the wrong moment to make a move, but the feeling of rejection was still very present.

Feeling the bed dip and the covers move when Dean was laying down, she closed her eyes and was about to wish him a good night, when she felt his arm sneaking around her middle, pulling her closer. She gasped in surprise. They were close enough for her to feel his warm breath on her ear.

“Is that ok?”, Dean whispered. “I kinda like being your big spoon”.

“It’s perfect. Good night, Dean”, she answered, thinking she could get used to being wrapped in him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When the pair woke up the next morning, they had changed positions and were facing each other instead of spooning. Maisie’s arms were tucked to her front, against Dean’s chest, while his arm was over her hip.

Maisie was the first to open her eyes. Dean was sleeping peacefully, mouth slightly opened. A lump started to form in her throat when everything that had happened the day before came back to her memory. It seemed like ages ago, but the fear she felt when Eric broke into her house crept inside her, making her stomach drop with the thought of what could have happened if she didn’t act fast enough.

She took a deep breath and focused on Dean’s face. His perfect face. Her heart skipped a beat with the thought of kissing him. She knew she was falling in love with the guy. They literally talked every day since the day they met, and things with him just flowed easily, so uncompromising. The idea of being with someone who would be there for her was all she ever wished for.

When Dean stopped her from taking things further the day before, she understood that it looked like she wanted sex as a coping mechanism, but he was wrong. She really wanted him because of him, not because of Eric. The timing was bad, yeah, but she was sure about what she wanted. She still felt embarrassed though, especially because maybe she got it wrong and Dean didn’t want the same as she did.

As if he could hear her thinking, he started to slowly wake up. He opened his eyes a little and smiled when he saw her watching him.

“Hey”.

“Hey, you”, she replied in a whisper.

“How are you feeling?”, he asked, and Maisie held her breath when his fingers started to lightly caress her hip.

“I’m- I’m gonna be fine, I guess”.

“I know you will”, Dean reassured, and leaned forward to place a feathery kiss on the tip of her nose and a longer one on her lips. He wanted to show her he wasn’t against being intimate with her. God, no. It was actually the exact opposite. He really wanted them to be as intimate as possible. The thought had crossed his mind more times than he could count since they met. But he didn’t want their first time to have anything to do with her ex-boyfriend. He wanted to be more to her than a coping mechanism, and that thought was scaring him to death, because he had probably been a coping mechanism to multiple women. And, if he was being honest, they were his sometimes too. In his defense, he never promised any kind of commitment or long-term relationship to any of them. And that was always fine and fulfilling both for him and for the women, he made sure of that. But, with Maisie, he wanted more than one night. He wanted to keep coming back to her as much as she would allow him to.

She interrupted his thoughts by calling his name.

“What, sweetheart?”

“I’m sorry again about yesterday. I’m sorry if I crossed the line and moved too fast,-”, she started babbling, nervously looking anywhere but in his eyes, her anxious thoughts taking the best of her.

“Hey”, Dean placed his hand on her cheek softly. “You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do. I really wanna be with you, Mais. But I want this to be right for us, for you. I need you to be sure this, us, has nothing to do with-”

It was her turn to stop him. “I understand, Dean. But yesterday was not a response to my trauma. I did what I did because I really, really like you. And, honestly…”, her voice broke, “I just need you to show me that there’s good and kindness in this world, not just loss, and pain, and loneliness-”

Dean didn’t let her finish. He placed his large hands on her cheeks and pulled her face closer, giving her a sensual open-mouthed kiss that took her breath away. Licking and tasting her thoroughly, he draw a throaty moan out of her. Once the kiss was over, Dean’s arm went around her waist, pushing her by the lower back so their bodies would get closer, giving her small pecks on the lips. Maisie’s hand was on his shoulder, and it descended to his bicep and his back, feeling the muscles moving under the freckled skin. She threw a leg over his hip, and Dean couldn’t hold back anymore.

“You sure about this, sweetheart?”,  he asked, plump lips now on the curve of her neck.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Now kiss me again", the girl demanded, rolling on her back and pulling him with her, lips already glued to his. He leaned over her, positioning himself on top and pulling her leg further up around his waist so he could fit between her thighs.

She pushed her hands under his t-shirt, running her fingers over his strong, firm body, while Dean’s lips were on her neck, his hands on her hips, slowly pulling her panties down. Maisie lifted her butt from the bed to help, and Dean threw the panties away without stopping kissing her.

“Take your shirt off, Dean”, she demanded, and he quickly obeyed. Maisie stared at him towering over her, his toned body looking godly under the dim lights of the room. “You’re so handsome”, she praised, stunned by the Winchesters genes.

Dean smirked and blushed shyly, having no time to reply once Maisie pulled him by the hem of his boxers to resume his previous position. The kissing was back on, and Dean pulled her oversized t-shirt off, leaving her fully naked.

Even though Maisie was not insecure about her body, Dean was staring at her so intently, in a way that the other guys in her life never did, as if he was memorizing her. It made her feel a little self-conscious.

"Dean? What’s wrong?", she asked, voice barely there, as if she was afraid of the answer. Maisie faced Eric’s judgement before and did her best to not be affected by it, but she wasn’t ready to hear any snark comments about her appearance at this vulnerable moment.

Dean’s chest was heaving and his eyes were taking in the woman laid down in front of him. Wetting his lower lip with the tip of his tongue and shaking his head lightly, he ran a hand from her waist to her under boob, pupils dilated. “Nothing’s wrong, I was just thinking… that Eric dude is so damn stupid".

“What?”, she furrowed her brows in surprise, not at all expecting him to bring up Eric when they were about to have sex.

"Look at you, Maisie. You look incredible. If you were mine, I would do anything to keep you", he kissed her then, lowering his body over hers until there was no space between them, his naked chest warm against hers.

Maisie’s heart skipped a beat with Dean’s words. Eric was never one to praise her in bed, or in any occasion, if she was being honest. With Dean, it was not only what he was saying, but also the fact that she could see the lust in his green eyes, in the way he was breathing, and from the hardness between his legs pressing against her center, making her wet.

She sneaked a hand between them, reaching for Dean’s boxers, rushing to have no barrier between them. As if he was again reading her thoughts, he guided her hand to the front of his underwear, pressing it against the outline of his hard cock. “You’re making me so hard, sweetheart”, he breathed, eyelids heaving as Maisie pulled the piece of clothing down his thighs, finally revealing his veiny, thick cock, to her sight.

“Can I touch you?”, she asked, placing her palm in his lower belly, feeling his muscles twitch under her touch.

“Yeah”, Dean answered, watching her every move.

She slid her hand down and closed her fist around his lengthy cock, caressing it, feeling it heavy and warm. “Fuck, Dean, you’re hot as fuck”.

He chuckled with the compliment. “Right back atcha, baby. Lemme touch you too”, Dean said, already running his hand on the inside of her thigh, fingers gently probing her center. She lowered her head to watch him use his fingers to spread her lips and gather the slick there, using it to lubricate his cock and make her hand slide easily on the length.

Maisie moaned with his touch, and Dean took it as an incentive to bring his hand back to her pussy and push one finger inside while he kissed her again. They touched each other for a few more minutes, until Dean placed his hand on top of hers, making her stop the up and down movements that were driving him completely insane.

“Mais, I need you to stop”, he asked, pulling back and watching her face, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from his kisses and bites, looking absurdly sexy.

“What’s wrong?”, she questioned, concerned.

“Nothing ‘s wrong, it’s just if you keep doing that I’m not gonna last”, he confessed, crawling over Maisie again, kissing her deeply, using one hand to support his weight and the other to caress her plump breast, rubbing the nipple with his thumb. “I wanna be inside you. Wanna make you cum so hard you’re gonna forget every jackass that didn’t fuck you as good you deserve”, he whispered against her lips, letting go of her breast and running his hand down her body until he reached her center again. He then held his cock and ran it through her lips, not really entering her but coating himself with her slick even more, bumping her clit and making Maisie moan with the feeling. “Do you want that?”, he asked, teasing.

“Yes, yes, please Dean, just fuck me already”, she whined, eager to know how he would feel inside of her.

Dean pushed the tip of his cock in her entrance, feeling her already stretching to accommodate him. He hissed at the feeling of warmth and wetness, her nails digging at his shoulders as he entered her slowly, with in and out movements, inch by inch, taking turns between kissing her and sucking her nipples, as Maisie slid one hand down his back to push his hips, silently asking him to go all the way in.

With him completely sheathed inside her, Maisie was feeling so full and stretched, to the point where she knew it would hurt a little once he started moving. Dean was so thick, she found it hot how much she was struggling to take him. He was making her feel things she wasn't used to and, at this point, she just wanted him to fuck her senseless.

He seemed to have a different idea, though, judging by how his hips were completely still.

"Dean", she called, running one hand through his soft hair, "can- can you move? I need you to move", she pleaded, voice strangled with need.

"In a minute, baby. Just need to get used to you. You have no idea how good you feel", he explained, grunting and moving a few inches out of her, teeth clenched. He could feel her muscles snuggling him so much he was afraid he was gonna come, but the need to drive himself deeper inside of her was too much. He did exactly that, and judging by Maisie’s gasp, she felt as good as he did.

“You feel amazing”, he praised again, pulling out and pushing in harder this time, and Maisie’s moans were increasing according to the force he was putting into fucking her. Each one of Dean’s thrusts made her body move further up on the bed. He was hitting her sweet spot with perfect aim and, as he pushed one of her legs further up, her clit started pressing on his pelvis. She had lost the capacity to form words, turning into a moaning mess, digging her fingers into the meaty part of Dean’s thick shoulders, trying her best to keep her eyes open to watch his beautiful face contort with pleasure every time her walls constricted around his length.

Dean slowed down his movements, wanting to last and drag his and Maisie’s pleasure further. “Is it good, baby girl?”, he asked between ragged breaths, kissing and nibbling her jaw and neck.

“S-so good. So- so f-full”, she managed to say, fingers travelling down to his plump ass, “so deep, Dean”.

“Yeah? I can feel this perfect pussy squeezing so hard around me, sweetheart. Are you about to cum?”, he continued, hand sliding to her mound, pressing down as his thumb found her clit, making Maisie’s hips jump from the bed.

“Oh, yes! Dean, I’m-“

“Come, baby, come for me”. He pinned her hips down and buried himself in her to the hilt as her muscles contracted around his cock. Maisie’s ragged breaths and moans were louder and he couldn’t hold it anymore. She was taking him so well. He came hard and deep inside of her, painting her walls white and making it leak around them both.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck”, he grunted, the pleasure spreading to his toes as Maisie pulled his head down to kiss him, not an inch of space between their sweat-slicked bodies.

They slowly came back from their highs, bodies still joined, Dean’s head resting between Maisie’s breasts while she caressed the hair on the nape of his neck. After a few minutes, he tilted his head up to look at her. “That was incredible. You’re so perfect”, he said, kissing her, hot and messy mouth exploring hers.

“Stop, Dean. You’re making me blush”, she said, smiling as her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink.

“It’s true. And you look beautiful when you blush. But I know something that will make you look even prettier”, he stated, kissing her again and slotting himself back between her thick legs.

She made space for him and felt his cock getting hard against her left inner thigh. Maisie laughed when Dean’s mouth travelled to her neck, sucking the sweet spot behind her ear. It felt good to see the way he reacted to her so promptly, how she aroused him right after they just had the most amazing sex. It felt like they knew each other for way longer than they actually did. “Tell me, Dean”, Maisie encouraged him, wanting to hear more of that deep, sexy voice of his saying dirty things to her.

He answered by straddling her mid, cock standing hard and glistening with their juices. It was a mouth-watering sight, Maisie thought, and she wanted nothing more than to suck him off. She reached out to take him in her small hand, and Dean grunted. “You would look amazing covered in my cum”, he confessed, hips jerking with her touch.

“I think I have a better idea”, she looked up at him from under her lashes, leaning up to give a kitten-lick to the head of his cock. Dean hissed and threw his head back, every inch of his body reacting to Maisie’s caress.

She pushed him back on the bed and knelt between his spread legs, proceeding to hold his cock with one hand and sucking on the tip while watching his every reaction. He felt heavy and hot in her hand, and she took him as far as she could, moaning around him.

“Fuck, Maisie, I’m not gonna last”, Dean warned, his length pulsing on her tongue.

Giving one particular strong suck and slurping their combined juices, she let go of him. “Do you wanna come all over me, Dean?”, asked the woman, sensual eyes watching him panting. She knew the answer, he already said it, but she wanted to hear him say it again.

“Yeah, baby”, he replied, lips parted while he watched her give one more kitten lick to the head of his dick and jerk him off until he exploded, painting her breasts and stomach with his hot cum.

“Wow, Dean”, she exclaimed, collecting some of the liquid from between her breasts and licking her fingers to clean it, tasting the tanginess of his cum.

“That was so fucking hot, Mais. You’re incredible”, he pulled her in for a kissing, tasting her and himself, pushing his tongue into her mouth and making her moan.

Wrapping her body in his embrace, Dean pulled her down to lay on the bed with him, still kissing her and exploring her curves with his hands. Once they stopped to catch their breaths, Dean noticed her eyes getting heavy as he caressed her back. He watched as she fell asleep and pulled a blanket over them, letting himself be carried away with her to a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Winchesters stayed with Maisie for a week. After the police was done collecting evidence from her place, the three of them went back and settled there, trying to help her back to her routine and mostly waiting to know what would happen with Eric. Sam slept in Maisie’s old bedroom while she and Dean shared the other room. That made the younger Winchester smile. He could tell right away that his brother and friend had clicked off, and he hoped they would both get the best out of whatever was going on between them.

In the meantime, Dean was so adamant at making sure Eric would stay in jail and have no chance at ever getting close to Maisie again that, when a hunt surfaced in a city nearby, he sent Sam and asked Bobby for help, deciding to stay with her just in case.

“It’s a quick and easy salt and burn, Sammy, you don’t need me. ‘Sides, Bobby is on his way. Maisie is gonna talk to her lawyer and I wanna be here, in case we need to do something to keep the jackass locked up”, he explained, patting Sam on the shoulder and giving him the Impala’s keys.

Gladly, everything went fine and Eric would wait for trial in jail. Maisie’s lawyer assured her there was no way he was not getting convicted, and Dean only agreed to leave because of that.

“Mais, I’m- Sam and I are one call away. All you have to do is give us a call and we’ll be here or have someone here with you, okay?”, Dean assured, giving Maisie one last hug while Sam was already waiting in the car.

“I know, Dean, thank you. I appreciate everything you guys did for me. Especially you”, she said, smirking devilishly and pulling him down for a kiss. “I cannot wait to see you again”, she whispered in his ear before they split.

Dean’s ears were red but he was grinning. “Me too, sweetheart. I’m gonna text you every day. You text me back, alright?”.

“I will, I promise”, she said, waving goodbye as he walked towards the car.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As Dean drove down the road, switching the radio on, Sam watched him. Since it didn’t look like his older brother was gonna say anything, he decided to give him a push.

"So, what?", Sam asked.

"What, what?", Dean replied, raising an eyebrow, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

"You and Maisie. Was it just a one-time thing?".

"Hell, no. Not if it's up to me. She’s pretty great, Sammy", Dean smiled, mind filled with the memories of their good time together.

"I know that. That's why I'm asking. Don't break her heart, man".

"I won't, man. I promised her I'll come back. I will call and text and check on her too. I will. She knows how our life is, though. She knows I can't be there every day. But I'm gonna be there for her, for the important things at least. She will never have to deal with that dude ever again, if it's up to me. I’m gonna keep her safe", Dean looked at his brother, stern expression telling Sam he meant every word.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

5 years later – after Purgatory

Maisie’s bare feet were starting to hurt from walking up and down the living room. The perspective of seeing Dean after a year was making her too anxious. One year without hearing his voice, except for the voice messages she kept replaying every time the pain of missing him was too much to bear. One year of no texts, no pictures, of not looking into his green eyes. One year of not knowing if he was even alive.

He was back now, but she had no idea in what state, physical and mental, she would find him. That was only increasing her nervousness, but she tried to hold on to the fact that he was alive, and he was gonna be there with her at any moment now. Everything else, they would manage together.

She ran to the door the moment she heard the sound of the Impala’s engine. If it weren’t for Sam’s call giving her a little more detail, the only indication she had was a text message sent from Dean’s old phone: I’m back and on my way to see you, Mais.

Maisie wouldn’t even had believed that the message was actually from Dean, if Sam hadn’t call right after she received it, explaining that Dean was alive. Apparently, the brothers had a fight, and Dean was on his way to see her. She and Sam were not exactly in the best terms at the moment as well – Maisie was not happy with the fact that he didn’t look for Dean, and she had a suspicion that was the reason they fought.

Once she reached the front door, Dean was already halfway up the short staircase leading to the house’s porch. “De-“, she started saying, tears running down her cheeks, but he didn’t let her finish. He skipped the last two steps and pulled her into his arms, embracing her as tight as he could while kissing her almost with bruising force.

“I missed you, Mais, I missed you so fucking much”, he said between kisses. She sobbed and laughed at the same time, heart thumping in her chest. The relief of seeing him again, looking tired but somewhat whole, was everything she had hoped for in the last year.

“I missed you too, Dean. I love you”, she said, knowing it would scare the shit out of him, but not wanting to spend another day with the regret of not having him know the depth of her feelings.

Dean stepped back but kept his arms around her waist. He was clearly shocked, but soon his wide eyes gave way to the wrinkles that framed his face so beautifully every time he smiled. “I- I love you too, Maisie. I didn’t realize how much until I couldn’t be with you”.

She kissed him again, standing on her tiptoes to throw her arms around his neck. Maisie was glad to realize she didn’t forget the smell of him, or the feeling of his short hair on the tip of her fingers, or the way his big hands fit so perfectly on her hips.

Taking his hand in hers, Maisie led Dean inside the house. As if no time had passed, they sat at the table and she offered him the cookies she prepared on the day before, and he ate all of them, just like he always used to do, to her complete joy. After that, they talked for a while, sharing their perspectives about everything that happened during the past year, how she searched for him and even reached to some of the Winchesters’ hunter friends to help once she realized Sam was not doing what she expected him to.

It was a hard conversation for both of them. Dean wanted more than anything to simply forget everything, but he knew that he owed Maisie an explanation. She was utterly shocked when he mentioned Purgatory and everything he went through there, but her resolution to help him heal didn’t change, not even for a second.

The night ended with them making love. Dean got so lost in the comfort of her body, something he craved and wished for so long, that it wasn’t even surprising to him to feel a tear streaming down his face when he was finally inside her. There was nothing he wanted more than to be wrapped in her scent, her softness, to have every curve of her body fitting into his, to feel as comfortable and safe as he always felt with her.

He took her slowly at first, savoring the feeling of being joined with her after so long, of feeling her heartbeat against the hand he kept on her left breast, of watching the goosebumps forming on her skin with every one of his touches.

On the second round, Maisie was sitting on Dean’s lap, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck, kissing him fiercely. One of his hands was placed on her lower back so he could help her ride him, pushing her down and filling her to the hilt with every thrust. Her look was of pure bliss, cheeks flushed with the effort, and it was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen.

"My God, you're stunning. Do you know that? Do you have any idea how beautiful you look when you come?", he asked, pushing a strand of hair from her face while they were catching their breaths, sweaty bodies still intertwined.

Maisie looked at him with watery eyes. She couldn’t believe fate brought the two of them together. In the years they knew each other, they both changed so much, and all they’ve been through only made Dean more handsome and perfect in her eyes.

“Thank you. Thank you for being so perfect. Thank you for being mine. I love you”, she replied, kissing Dean again, savoring the feeling of his plump lips and the slight roughness of his stubble against her palms.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

10 years later – Lebanon, Kansas

Dean watches as Lily’s eyelids got heavier and heavier as he finishes the story. When she finally falls asleep, her little hand still holding his thumb tightly, he gently pushes her hair, as dark as her mom’s, out of her face. His movements are delicate, but she opens her big green eyes that look so much like his, and stares at him briefly, before falling asleep again.

He spends a few more minutes watching her, until a movement by the door catches his attention.

Maisie is standing there, in her pajamas, watching him. She smiles when he notices her.

He removes his hand from his daughter’s carefully, stands up from the stuffed chair by her bed, and walks to the door, where his wife waits for him.

“Hey”, Maisie greets in a whisper when he approaches her, extending her hand so Dean can hold it. He does, intertwining their fingers and standing next to her.

“Hey, baby. How long have you been standing there?”, he asks, kissing the top of her head.

“Just for two or three minutes. I arrived when you were telling her about how you fell in love with me from the first time you saw me”, she revealed, looking up at him and blushing.

Dean chuckled. “You got me there. It’s no lie, though. She loves hearing that story. It’s the one she always asks me to tell her. That, and the one where mommy and daddy reunited after he got out of monster land”.

“Monster land?”, Maisie furrowed her eyebrows in a questioning look.

“Yeah, that’s what I call Purgatory to her”, he gave her a cocky smile, obviously proud of his own creativity.

“I hope you spared her of the details”, she said, chuckling at Dean, once again amazed at the fact that their daughter seemed to love horror stories, just like her father.

“‘Course. Our story ain’t no fairytale, but I think it’s pretty awesome. Plus, she has to know how great her mommy is”, he affirmed, charming as always, and Maisie pulled his hand so they both would move away from Lily’s bedroom door. She closed it and led him to their room.

Once inside, the woman turned around and threw her arms around her husband’s neck, kissing him deeply.

“I love you, Dean. I love how amazing you are with our daughter. I would go through everything we went through all over again knowing it would lead us to this. You, me, and Lily”, she declared, eyes watering.

It was his turn to kiss her now, his warm palm against the side of her neck guiding her into the kiss. Maisie was so much shorter than him that, when they stopped for air, he rested his chin on the top of her head. “She’s only 2, but I know she’s growing up to be as fierce and strong as you are. Once she’s old enough, she’s gonna know how her dad went through hell and Purgatory, and how her mom was the reason he came back every time. How you waited for me and welcomed me with open arms, when I was bruised and battered and more fucked up than before. But you put me back together, baby. I love you”, Dean said, holding his love in his arms.

THE END.

Taglist (I'm sorry super this is super outdated! If you want to be removed or included in this taglist, let me know and I'll gladly do it <3): @sexyvixen7; @candy-coated-misery0731; @dean-winchester-lover99; @thoughts-and-funnies; @avanatural; @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior; @eevvvaa; @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes; @djs8891.

[nicoleshifting]

my vampire diaries dr

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

about me:

name: nicole violet evermore

age: 23

birthday: october 1st, 1987

closest friends: elena gilbert, caroline forbes, bonnie bennett

love interests: klaus mikaelson, elijah mikaelson, katherine pierce, rebekah mikaelson

(please note I have no scripted definite relationships with anyone mentioned above! just all potential flings or s/o's)

powers: telekinesis, levitation, and the ability to conjure energy. however, my powers were suppressed at birth by a witch.

I am a phd student at whitmore college studying folklore and mythology with a masters in arcane history and a concentration in mythology in the modern world.

whitmore college is just outside mystic falls, virginia, the small town I grew up in. I live in a small house on campus not too far from elena, while caroline and bonnie both live in mystic falls and work there.

some songs I associate with this dr:

✩terrible thing- AG

✩headlock- imogen heap

✩bitches brew- crosses

✩dead weight- PVRIS

✩snap out of it- arctic monkeys

background info:

(plot wise if you are familiar with the show, this is basically the end of season 1, beginning of season 2)

when I first shift to this reality, it is early september 2010. I have just started my final year of school at whitmore college when things are getting a little... weird. elena gilbert and I are the last remaining two from our friends group still at school, me completing my phd and elena still in medical school when the salvatore brothers start infiltrating our lives.

damon salvatore starts showing up at every turn I make, appearing in classes I have never previously seen him in, and once conferring with elena about this, she says a random guy has been showing up in her classes as well, borderline stalking her. we later discover that it's stefan, damon's younger brother.

upon confrontation, both salvatore brothers admit that they have been following us only because through the grapevine they have heard rumblings of klaus coming back and feared for elena's safety (me... well I'm just kinda there at this point. but they figure if they are also roping elena's closest friend into this it will persuade her to trust them more).

elena and I are utterly confused, but we get caught up to speed quickly as our lives are turned upside and we are thrust into this world of supernatural. elena takes a little more convincing than I, who is floating on cloud nine that the very thing I have spent the last six years studying is actually real.

the salvatore's know nothing about me or the powers I had suppressed at birth, and are more focused on elena being the doppleganger and keeping her safe, and me by association.

klaus and the rest of the mikaelson's end up coming into our lives. klaus quickly becomes very obsessed with me, convinced that I am some kind of special supernatural being that he can use to his advantage. elijah and rebekah end up becoming close to me as well, desperate to keep me away from their brother.

(mind you I am trying to finish getting my phd. the loans have been taken out. classes are IN SESSION. and I have vampire's breathing down my neck every second. talk about applying your studies to the real world...)

at some point later in time, I do end up dying with vampire blood in my system, which in turn breaks the suppression on my powers. so not only do I find myself in transition as a vampire, I am now filled with this newfound power and abilities that no one is familiar with.

I did rescript the ages that most every main vampire involved died at (most ages are somewhat unknown in canon in this reality so I just scripted what I felt seemed right) :

stefan salvatore- 23

damon salvatore- 27

klaus mikaelson- 26

elijah mikaelson- 30

rebekah mikaelson- 23

katherine pierce- 24

I am leaving most of this dr up to the universe and what my subsconsious wants TRULY so this is all I have for now!! xx

[desiree-uk]

A vegetarian foody naming alternative mod by Spork!

Spork mod notes:

Ever since Showtime, The Sims 3 has allowed any Sim, regardless of their own traits, to learn and prepare the vegetarian versions of most of the meat dishes in the game. This is, of course, very useful for the friends and loved ones of vegetarian Sims, who have ever since been able to cook for their buddies and fully include them in parties and family meals! However, it also calls to the forefront how much of an afterthought the vegetarian meals must have been when they were added to the game -- every Sim now has recipe menu full of very similar pairs of meals, featuring oxymoronic options like "vegetarian fish". (You might assume, as is probably the intention, that that means "a vegetarian imitation of fish", but that characterizes these recipes as specialized substitutions -- the implication that you're having it because you're not having real fish -- which makes it somewhat odd that every meat-eating sim knows so many of them.) Now, I'm pretty sure there are ways to hide the extra meals (with NRaas, maybe?), but I didn't want that, because I do appreciate giving my Sims the option to cook vegetarian dishes where applicable, and to have more variety in their lives in general. I thought it would be a significant improvement if only the names of the vegetarian dishes were changed to make them more interesting and relevant. So! I learned how to make a string table mod so I could do that!

What This Mod Does This mod replaces the names of most of the vegetarian alternative dishes in the game to make them describe what each meal actually might be (based on research I did into common vegetarian substitutes for and variants of the original recipes), rather than what it's an imitation of. This makes them more distinct from the meat versions, which also gives an implicit reason why a meat-eating Sim might want to learn and prepare most of these dishes whether or not there are any vegetarians around. It also changes the name of one canon meat dish, Spaghetti, to Spaghetti and Meatballs, in order to make it more clearly a meat dish and distinguish it better from the vegetarian version. The changes I made are as follows:

Vegetarian Fish and Chips -> Batter-Fried Tofu Fillets and Chips

Veggi Rolls -> Mushroom and Avocado Rolls

Spaghetti -> Spaghetti and Meatballs

Spaghetti with Veggie Sauce -> Spaghetti with Tomato Sauce

Cheese Tofu Steak -> Cheesy Mushroom Melt

Vegetarian Grilled Salmon -> Grilled Eggplant Fillets

Tri-Tip Tofu Steak -> Grilled Portobello Mushrooms in Steak Sauce (I wanted "anchovy-free Worcestershire sauce" but it was too long already -- so imagine whatever type of steak sauce you prefer)

Vegetarian Dim Sum -> Vegetable Dumplings and Tofu Puffs

Stuffed Tursoykey -> Seitan Holiday Roast

Vegetarian Lobster Thermador [sic] -> Heart of Palm in Thermidor Sauce

Vegetarian Chili -> Four-Bean Chili

Tofu Dog -> Veggie Dogs (This admittedly goes against my general goal of making the recipes more descriptive, but this was by far the most common name for any example I could find of the type of food in question, whereas I couldn't find "tofu dog" in any context. Besides, it makes sense for such a processed food to be a little more vague about the ingredients.)

I left "Veggie Burger" and "Firecracker Tofu" alone, as veggie burgers are already common and well-known, and "firecracker tofu" is already evocative and descriptive.

My mod also corrects a couple of proofreading errors in the original vegetarian recipes. I fixed the spelling of "Thermidor" in "Heart of Palm in Thermidor Sauce", and made "Veggie Dogs" plural to match "Hot Dogs".

You'll see these changes in every context I could find where the game displayed the original names, including the names of the dishes themselves, the titles of the recipe books, and miscellaneous strings such as the dialogue you get when a vegetarian Sim refuses a challenge to a hot dog eating contest.

What This Mod Does Not Do This is not an ingredients mod -- the vast majority of the vegetarian substitute recipes use tofu as their primary or only ingredient, and I found that it was a tall order to make the recipes descriptive, distinct, and realistic if I limited myself to the same ingredient for everything. With that in mind, I allowed myself to choose names that don't necessarily match the in-game recipe. The result, though, is that a Sim will need to use tofu in order to make a cheesy mushroom sandwich or a grilled eggplant dish, even though that might not make too much sense. This isn't a problem for me, as I usually just pay for each meal at the fridge, so ingredients don't come into play much, but I can see how it might be annoying or confusing if your play style features ingredients more heavily, so it's something to note! (Something I've thought about, and could still do if anyone is interested, is make a little add-on package to rename "tofu" to something like "vegetable protein" to make it more broadly applicable, although I don't know whether most people would consider this better or worse.)

This mod also does not change the meshes or textures of any of the dishes, so they will also still look like the equivalent meat dish. I tried to describe each dish in a way consistent with its appearance, but there are limitations to this. There's no reason for your fancy heart of palm recipe to be in a fake lobster shell unless it is pretending to be lobster -- so some of these will still visually read as obvious imitations of the equivalent meat dish. I can only hope that I've presented them as interesting, meaningful imitations that will still appeal to your Sims in their own right!

Issues, Interactions and Other Mods This mod renames recipes from the base game, Showtime, and Supernatural, but it shouldn't be necessary to have either or both of the expansions -- the recipes from packs you're missing just won't show up in the game, so you won't see the renames.

Some of the recipe names in this mod are a little longer than the official ones in the game, which can cause some minor overlapping when a dish is spoiled, as seen below. In my testing, this never caused text to be fully covered or to become illegible, but I can't guarantee that to still be the case if you're using UI mods that change fonts or other formatting.

This mod replaces the English-language strings for the names of the dishes I changed and their recipe skill books, the dialogue for a vegetarian Sim refusing a hot dog eating contest, the level-up text for a vegetarian sim reaching level four in cooking, and the description of the wish for a pregnant sim to eat spaghetti and ice cream, and may conflict with any other mods that replace these strings. I'm not aware of any, but an example would be if you have a mod to correct the spelling of "Vegetarian Lobster Thermador" (which you won't need anymore, since "thermidor" is spelled correctly in my mod.)

(When I was making this mod, I also noticed strings in the game files that appeared to be for vegetarian versions of the World Adventures meat recipes. I updated them just in case they might appear in the game somewhere, but throughout my testing I was unable to find anywhere where these strings appeared in the game. I left the replacements in the mod anyway, in case they might be associated with content some other mod might unlock in the future or some similar edge case.)

Thank you for your interest and I hope you enjoy the mod!

Download from Mod The Sims!

[qoldenskies]

older twin leo thoughts go !! 🎤

is this whether or not im a truther? because i am a truther to the point where i literally cannot engage with older twin donnie like i will just lose interest in a fic if it mentions it LMAO (<- this is not a condemnation of it, i just dont like it and its everywhere)

otherwise i personally think it makes more sense for their relationship than the other way around, which is why i go so hard on it. what im gonna yap about is all like tag-buried ideas that ive mentioned before lmfao but ive always seen leo as the one who acknowledges it way more than donnie does, because donnie as sappy as he can be is closer to the "two halves of one soul" kind of idea of their relationship, while leo does just see donnie as a younger brother and he treats him accordingly. he loves being twins because it automatically puts them in a special Camp with each other, but he does look out for donnie actively. even if they dont mention it, it's a gigantic influence in their relationship, and also i like the idea of donnie feeling like leo really understands him, which is one of the things he's always wanted the most, y'know?

ALSO MAY I PRESENT AN IDEA: everyone always makes donnie deny the idea of a "twin-sense" while leo pushes for it, but i think it ignores the fact that he's a big fat conspiracy theorist in canon and leo adheres a lot more to logic than he does (the whole episode where he thinks ghosts arent real, and also him repeatedly being grounded and vying for more logical solutions) so have you considered .... doing it the other way around. donnie believes in the twin-sense and leo doesn't. yes they argue about this. a lot. donnie may deny the more sentimental reasons for believing in it but he is SO convinced of this do not destroy his dreams

and even beyond the interpretation of donnie and leo as twins, i find myself more invested in both raph and leo/donnie and mikey than i am in them, and i think raph and leo having older sibling solidarity + donnie and mikey having younger sibling solidarity is my favorite flavor of their dynamics, which is honestly the real reason i like it so much LMFAOOO. b team/pb&j is my favorite dynamic and it just doesnt HIT if they're not the younger two who think raph and leo's bickering is very stupid .... what would i do without it . who would i even be

[leon-serra-kennedy]

Leon was not a rookie, and Krauser was not his mentor in the original Operation Javier canon

Something I find interesting is just how wildly different the scraps of Operation Javier given in RE4R are from the original Operation Javier presented in the Darkside Chronicles, particularly the Leon/Krauser dynamic. So I'm going to ramble about the original.

Like I said, Leon was absolutely not a rookie.

In fact, I'd argue he was actually Krauser's superior. No ranks are stated directly in game, but the cutscene Conviction leads me to believe that's the case.

In the cutscene, Leon reveals he's actually on a special mission from the president. And he has to reveal it, because Krauser didn't know. I also believe the cutscene implies that Krauser didn't even know what their mission actually was, because Leon also states what his mission is. Partial transcript:

Leon: Javier knows something. He's been able to prevent Manuela from transforming. I have to take her with me and find out how. [Leon passes his phone to Krauser] Krauser: Anti-virus Weapon Protocol number 7600... You're on a special assignment for the President. Leon: My mission... is to eradicate this virus once and for all. And with your help, I intend to do just that. Krauser: Well, I am a soldier. And if your orders are from the President, then I'm on your side.

To me, it looks like the situation was that Leon was really the one in charge. All Krauser seemed to know at the start was that there were several missing teenage girls in the area and that they were looking for a drug lord named Javier Hidalgo, who may have been purchasing B.O.W.s from Umbrella. I think that if they were truly equal partners, Krauser would have also known the details Leon did, that it was a special mission for the president to totally eradicate a virus.

Leon was more experienced/knowledgeable than Krauser in one way

Krauser was a very experienced soldier, but he had zero experience with B.O.W.s. In fact, he didn't even believe they existed! From a transcript of the game's first cutscene:

Krauser: So, you think B.O.W.s actually exist? Oh wait, you said you faced them before, huh? Leon (as the narrator, not actually speaking to Krauser): This is my first mission with Krauser. He's a soldier with the U.S. Special Operations Command. And has quite the resume of accomplishments in the field. But to him, after all he's been through, B.O.W.s, Cryptids... They're all the same.

Krauser wasn't "Major" Krauser

He was actually just more of a mercenary. While he was working for SOCOM for this mission, the Communications from Krauser files found in the Darkside Chronicles archives imply it was more of a one time thing and he has no loyalty to the US military, or anyone else. He's just a mercenary.

Jack Krauser: So where's this Leon guy? Hannah: He arrived at the scheduled time. The rendezvous point is the same. Jack Krauser: Did he fly in? Hannah: Yes. He was on a tour-charted Cessna, but it got shot down. It crash-landed in the wetlands, and he made his way on foot from there. He may have hitched a ride on the way, though. Jack Krauser: Uncle Sam must really like him. Hannah: Don't you both work for the same people? Jack Krauser: I don't know about Leon, but my loyalties lie not with any one given organization. At the end of the day, all they want is results. And that's what I provide. For the right price. Hannah: So you're a gun for hire. Jack Krauser: Hmph, you got a problem with that? Look, I don't care what people think of me. I get the job done and then I'm gone. And if we work together again some day, then so be it.

[I have the audio recordings and transcripts of all 3 of the communications here.]

Operation Javier wasn't some tragedy where almost everyone died. No one was abandoned.

I think the best way to start this section is with the transcript of a RE4R file:

Operation Javier. Few people have heard the name, even within the highest ranks of the US government. And little wonder too, the operation was not made public. It was conducted in secret, and then buried. The reason being—it was too inhumane. It all started back in 2002 when a small unit of US special forces was sent to infiltrate an area of South America. Their mission was to eradicate the drug cartels. The whole operation took several years to prepare for and only the most elite soldiers were selected to participate. I don't know if the mission was a failure or not, but I do know the fate of those elite soldiers once it was over. Apparently, the entire unit was wiped out except for the commanding officer, Major █████. And not by the cartels, but by the US. It shouldn't have been difficult to extract a single stranded unit. All it would have taken was a single helicopter. But for some reason, the military didn't act. Rumors say that the decision was the outcome of a power struggle among the top brass, others say it was a directive from the former president himself. But we may never know the truth since it was all covered up. But I'm certain of one thing. The US government let those people die. Brave, young people who dedicated their lives to protect their country.

Almost nothing about that is true of the original Operation Javier.

There was no team, only Leon and Krauser were sent.

The mission wasn't to eradicate cartels. Javier was a drug lord but that wasn't why Leon and Krauser were sent, they were only sent in because it was believed Javier was using B.O.W.s. The operation didn't take several years to prepare for.

No one was abandoned.

No innocents were killed. (At least not by the government. Manuela's doctors were all murdered by Javier, but I suppose their innocence is also in question because they were keeping Manuela alive with constant organ transplants, and the organs were obtained via human trafficking. That's what was happening to the missing teenage girls in the area, organ trafficking.)

Really, almost all the casualties in the game happened before Operation Javier started. Javier is the only human killed during the game. The villagers were all zombies before Leon and Krauser rolled up. The local guide that was supposed to help them was technically alive when they got to him, but he had already been fatally injured and dies almost immediately after Leon and Krauser reach him. Manuela's mother, Hilda Hidalgo, was already a monster infected with Veronica years before the game takes place. The missing teenage girls died before the game starts. All of Manuela's doctors were murdered by Javier before Leon and Krauser reached the mansion, as was an Umbrella researcher. The only four people who were alive, uninjured, and uninfected* at the start of the game were Leon, Krauser, Javier, and Manuela. Only one of them dies, and another is injured but not killed.

[*Manuela was infected, but had full control over it and stayed human]

Leon and Krauser were picked up by a helicopter after killing Javier/V-Complex. Manuela was as well. The worst thing to happen was Krauser's arm being permanently injured.

Krauser's Darkside

The last two chapters of the game do a great job showing Krauser's transition from cold, arrogant, but not completely evil soldier to full-blown power hungry psycho that wouldn't hesitate to infect himself with anything that might make him more powerful. While I could get into that here, I think I'm going to wrap this post up here and eventually make a separate post going into DSC Krauser's full arc, and get more into the relationship between him and Leon. I do have some screenshots of some of Krauser's inner monologue lines in those chapters here, but I intend to make a more polished collection of his lines at some point, as well as the post with more commentary explaining his arc.

And you can see all my DSC stuff here, I'm on a mission to compile just about every piece of lore about the game I can find into one place.