#literally my favorite kind of au i’m so obsessed with this

[waynes-multiverse]

Ooooh, Arty! I'm so excited for this series (and your FBI one, which I'm hopping into next) 😍 You know I'm obsessed with those things 😂👏

Let's jump into it! 🍿

You were sitting in a bar, hoping that when the results of the final poll came you were drunk enough that you’d cheer and scream like a madwoman to counteract the inevitable news that you’d lose the 2014 presidential elections to your only eligible opponent, Amara Shurley.

I can see why she'd need a bodyguard. Girl, you can't be sitting in a bar as a presidential candidate. Please tell me Secret Service has eyes on this "madwoman" 😂

Either way, you both had incredibly good future legislations and laws, and whoever was elected there’d be a woman as the President for the first time, which was good. Really good.

Yup 💯💯💯 Although, I don't think Shurley's up for the job... 😒

Bella, your other, redhead best friend, sighed and smacked Steph upside her blonde head, earning a gasp at the potentially ruined heatless curls (no, they weren’t ruined, she’s just being dramatic).

Bella sounds like me 😂 Are we redheads all the same?

You asked in severe mild concern, while Steph just looked either repulsed or amused.

I love when authors add (funny) information in parentheses or strike words through! It adds so much comedy and is my favorite kind of writing style 🤍

That means you got… 64% of the vote

Whoa! You can almost call that a landslide! 🥳

Suck it, Amara 😝

You were the President. The first female President. POTUS. The youngest ever elected too, at 35.

Dude, she's winning in, like... life 👀

But there's something missing... Ah yes! Who will be the First Gentleman? *coughs*

And please tell me the girls are moving with her into the White House. I'd die 😂😂

“I’m Becky Rosen, I’ll be your assistant.

Oh dear God, no... 😂 I had a feeling when she snuck up on me in this paragraph lmao

But is she okay? Why do I get the sense her eye bags don't come from being overworked? Is someone threatening her? Trying to gain access to Mme Pres. through her? I'm on alert! 👀

Well, you did say unorthodox applicants can apply if they wanted to, you just didn’t expect a dude in prison to put his file through.

That is a fair assumption 😅 Only one dude would be this crazy to apply to the freaking White House as personal bodyguard to the freaking president 🙈

A hitman with a list of bodies long enough to fill a small town cemetery

Jesus effing Christ...

I wonder what really went on there? Can't imagine Dean, even AU!Dean, to be this damn cold-blooded without a somewhat (we do forgive him a lot) sound reason

Dean had always been a man who thrived on freedom—the smell of asphalt under the Impala’s tires, the weight of a weapon he knew as intimately as his own heartbeat, the thrill of a job well done.

Chills! Literal chills! 👏

“Unorthodox candidates,” he muttered, smirking. “Guess I qualify.”

Uhm, sweetie...? You feelin' good? 😂

I love how his whole plan rides on "oh, I can get pardoned if I work for the president" 🤣 Dream big, I guess

Before my incarceration, I was highly skilled in tactical operations, surveillance, and neutralising high-level targets. My ability to assess danger and act decisively has been tested in some of the most dangerous environments.

That sounds almost like one Russell Shaw 😏 (Which makes sense, considering they're both the same person – thanks Jackles 😂)

neither were fancy words, and he used a lot of them.

You did good, boo 😘👏

Feldman stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “You realize this is insane, right? You’re in here for life. They’re not going to let you out just because you can write a heartfelt letter.”

A realist, you might say 😂

His lawyer might eat his own ass after he gets out 🤣🤣

“The fuck is this?” You gestured to the heavy shackles on Dean’s wrists and ankles

I love her! She treats him like a human being already, and not like a murderous animal 🤍

He’s not being a perv.

Mmm, I don't quite believe you, Mr. Winchester 😅

“But the equal amounts of money went to Stanford in deposits. Why?”

Ah! And suddenly, it all becomes quite clear. Of course he did all this crazy shit for Sammy. And I bet Sammy, the prosecutor, just loves the fact that his brother is a hitman in prison 😂

You’re. Hired. He could die.

Arty, if this is foreshadowing, I will kill you. Hope you have your bodyguard ready 😝

That whole reunion with Sam made me tear up for real 😭 That was so sweet and genuine!

“He’s teething,” Eden said with a weary smile. “So, you know…living the dream.”

Yes. Just been there last week again 😂

Her family also seems so sweet. She needs a good support system with this job, and it seems like she has that 🤍

Dean Winchester strode into the room with the kind of presence that made people stop and take notice. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with a casual confidence that hinted at years of facing danger head-on. He wore a dark gray suit that was tailored just enough to highlight his powerful frame but not so tight as to make him look polished or delicate. The crisp white shirt underneath contrasted against his tanned skin, and his black tie was slightly loosened, as if he’d deliberately left it that way.

I died somewhere while reading this paragraph 🔥🥵🫠

Steph scoffed, shaking her head. “Girl, no. He’s better than that, he puts Adonis to shame— where’s he been hiding?”

I'm with Steph on this one. Ben Affleck? Ew.

And I have a feeling those walls aren't as thick as the girls believe they are 😂

“So he’s a bad boy.” Bella giggled

DECEASED 🤣🤣🤣 Bella should join the PR team!

That whole conversation has me rolling on the floor, girl 😂 There were so many gems here 🤍✨

“Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it,” Sam said with a grin. “Besides, you deserve someone who can keep up with you.”

Joking or not, I can't believe Sam's entertaining this idea and encouraging him to hit on the president (and his only ticket outta prison) 😂

Wonderful first chapter, babe! 👏👏👏 So stoked to see where this goes, to have more wild girl chats, and more romantic as well as sexual tension! 😏😍

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐱𝐲𝐳 1

SUMMARY: You’re the first female president of the USA, having won the 2014 elections against Amara Shurley by a landslide. Now that you were a symbol of feminism, reform and a better country, it meant that there were a lot more assassination attempts bound to be on your head. For that, you needed a personal bodyguard, so you had to pick right. And you picked right in convicted ex-hitman Dean Winchester. Right?

TW: assassination attempts, ex-hitman!Dean, POTUS!reader, politics!au, politics, murder, gunfire, boss reader, angst, major sexual tension between reader and Dean but also romantic tension cause we love that, slow/quick burn, y’all will have to figure that out

A/N: In honour of our queen Kamala Harris, who didn’t win the 2024 elections, so I give you what could’ve been

NOW PLAYING: Power by Little Mix

office fever

God, the wait was killing you.

You were sitting in a bar, hoping that when the results of the final poll came you were drunk enough that you’d cheer and scream like a madwoman to counteract the inevitable news that you’d lose the 2014 presidential elections to your only eligible opponent, Amara Shurley. Either way, you both had incredibly good future legislations and laws, and whoever was elected there’d be a woman as the President for the first time, which was good. Really good.

“Come on, babes, cheer up!” Stephanie, one of your two best friends, drawled, checking her manicured nails while absent-mindedly sipping on a Long Island Iced Tea like it was merely water, but that was Steph O’Donnell for you, plain and simple. Eh, she was a bit nails-obsessed, but you loved her anyway for it, she did always look immaculate.

Bella, your other, redhead best friend, sighed and smacked Steph upside her blonde head, earning a gasp at the potentially ruined heatless curls (no, they weren’t ruined, she’s just being dramatic). “Maybe you just need to get less alcohol in your system.” She said pointedly, plucking the vodka shot out of your fingers.

“Bels, if anything, she needs more.” Steph pointed out after checking if her hair wasn’t frizzed up in a pocket mirror. “If she wins, it just means she’s capable of partying harder.”

Bella sighed and rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a small laugh, tsking internally at the notion. “She needs to remain sober for when she gets the results, and she’s going to win.” Bella turned to you with a sparkling smile and took your hand, squeezing it. “We’re here for you, girl. Sure, it’s totally possible that the Amara Shurley woman could win the election — she’s older — but if the country’s not stupid, then you’ll be the next POTUS.”

“I’m not sure whether to feel better or worse.” You playfully rolled your eyes, but let the vodka shot go and gestured to the bartender with a resigned sigh. Yeah, you could go without alcohol for tonight. “But ok. One mocktail, and surprise me with it. Cheers.” You looked to Bella with raised eyebrows, tipping your head slightly. “So, what if I lose the election?”

Bella tutted, and Steph looked up from her nails in shock— damn, that’s how you knew you were in deep shit. “Baby girl, you better get that thinking out of your head right now.” Steph gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in shock. “You are an icon for a feminist nation— a non-toxic feminist nation. If people don’t vote for you, I’m gonna kill those who didn’t, those who did can live.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Steph, no—”

“Yes—”

A loud squeal from Bella distracted both of you and almost made Steph spill the Cosmo that matched her nails and also made her shoot a you bitch look that she really didn’t mean, but then Bella started flapping her hands and making squealing and unintelligible, Brittany from Alvin and the Chipmunk-esque sounds that made you and Steph share a look. “You ok, Bels?” You asked in severe mild concern, while Steph just looked either repulsed or amused.

“Are you having a stroke?” Steph continued, checking for any signs of maybe a heart attack or an ice cube lodged down her throat so her speech becomes little whistles.

“Do you smell toast?” You waved a hand in front of your nose, but then her phone was shoved in front of your face so the screen and everything went blurry, not to mention the sting of the light on your eyes— shit, that burned until your retinas. Grabbing the phone from her, you held it at a distance and squinted (“grandma”, said Steph) but then saw the headline.

2014 PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS, FINAL POLL RESULTS

Then you scrolled down, with bated breath and clutching Bella’s hand like you wanted to rip it off, and you took a shaky look at the numbers.

AMARA SHURLEY — 36%

That means you got… 64% of the vote, now that you did the math. Holy shit. “Holy shit!” You gasped, letting out a Bella-reminiscent squeal just as Steph did, and you were smothered by two heavily-perfumed hugs, the wind knocked out of you, but did that matter? No.

You were the President. The first female President. POTUS. The youngest ever elected too, at 35.

Holy fuck, holy shit, holy crap. This was the most beautiful day of your life, beside the day you met Bella and Steph, that day was important. “You’re POTUS.” Steph grinned, waving for, like, six whiskeys for all of you to down.

“You’re POTUS, baby girl.” Bella giggled, squeezing your shoulders and then spinning around on her bar stool, pointing obviously to you and yelling “POTUS!”, earning a round of cheers and applause from the patrons that made you bury your face in your hands.

But you did it with a grin. You were the President.

Honestly, being the President was exhilarating, cause that meant you got to make real change, it was incredible. Your new security team had fended off the paparazzi from smothering you Bella and Steph style except more annoying as you were escorted into the White House, a woman only a little younger than you waiting with an eager grin and a clipboard hugged to her chest.

“Welcome to the White House, Madam President.” She grinned, holding out her hand nervously then retracting it— she didn’t know what new bosses wanted, alright? “I’m Becky Rosen, I’ll be your assistant. Anything you need, I’ll handle it. Do you want anything? Tea, coffee, water, a martini— if you want a martini I’ll have the barman get one ready and waiting for you in the Oval Office…”

During that time she’d been rambling you’d examined Becky, getting a feel for what she was like. Thank God your assistant was a woman also and she seemed like good fun, lively spirit, definitely someone who won’t make your schedule sound boring. But she looked overworked and tired, maybe from the last president— that’d be Raphael Easton, right? Yeah.

“Two things,” you started as you were walking through the halls to the Oval Office, “do you have the files for personal bodyguard applicants that I can cycle through before making official speeches?”

“They’re all on your desk, ma’am.” Becky answered almost immediately— damn, she was rather eager, and happy with her job, clearly, but also had dark circles and eye bags that made something twinge in you. It didn’t sit right.

You nodded, then gave her a warm smile, gently taking the clipboard. “How ‘bout you take the day off, yeah? It’s only my first day, I don’t need anything yet, and I can get the applicants from…” You looked through the labels on the file: FBI, CIA, private agencies, ADX Supermax— ADX Supermax?

“What’s wrong, ma’am?” Becky asked, seeing the way your words trailed off upon seeing the file amid all the other incredibly professional outlets for protection, an applicant from the ADX. Well, you did say unorthodox applicants can apply if they wanted to, you just didn’t expect a dude in prison to put his file through.

Oh. Upon opening it, it was just a letter.

You looked up to Becky, biting your lip in thought, cause if this guy’s in the Supermax, he’s prolific.

“Do I have a direct line to the director of the FBI?”

ADX Florence was a fortress, a high-tech prison designed to keep America’s most dangerous criminals sealed away from the world. It wasn’t a place where hope grew. Dean Winchester, prisoner 11347-7, wasn’t the kind of guy to expect hope anyway. A hitman with a list of bodies long enough to fill a small town cemetery, he had resigned himself to spending the rest of his days in this tomb of concrete and steel.

It wasn’t regret that gnawed at him in the sterile silence of his cell. Regret wasn’t his style. He’d made his choices, taken his hits, and lived by the only code he knew: survival. But that didn’t mean he liked being locked away. Dean had always been a man who thrived on freedom—the smell of asphalt under the Impala’s tires, the weight of a weapon he knew as intimately as his own heartbeat, the thrill of a job well done.

Now, his days were measured in three meals delivered through a slot and the endless monotony of isolation. Until that morning in 2008 when the guard, a surly guy Dean called Mustache, slid a newspaper into his cell along with the breakfast tray.

Dean didn’t read newspapers often. What was the point? The world moved on without him. But that day, boredom got the better of him. He skimmed headlines about wars, scandals, and the economy’s nosedive. Nothing he hadn’t expected. Then his eyes landed on something that made him sit up straighter on the cot.

“Wanted: Elite Personal Security for First Female President. Apply Now.”

The ad stood out like a neon sign in a desert. Beneath the bold letters was a glossy image of the President standing in front of the White House, flanked by Secret Service agents. The text outlined the need for a personal bodyguard—someone with impeccable skills, discretion, and a willingness to take a bullet if necessary. Experience required. Unorthodox candidates welcome.

Dean read it twice, then a third time, the words stirring something he hadn’t felt in years. It wasn’t quite hope, but it was close.

ADX Supermax wasn’t the kind of place where people left easily. But this ad…this ad was a door, cracked open just wide enough for someone like him to slip through.

“Unorthodox candidates,” he muttered, smirking. “Guess I qualify.”

By lunchtime, Dean had a plan. It wasn’t perfect—nothing he did ever was—but it was a shot, and that was more than he usually got in this place.

He spent hours staring at the blank sheet of paper he’d salvaged from a previous legal memo. Writing wasn’t his strong suit. Hell, if he’d been good at words, maybe he wouldn’t have ended up in the killing business in the first place. But this wasn’t about flowery language. It was about convincing someone that a convicted hitman could be trusted with the life of the most powerful person in the country.

Dean leaned over the small desk bolted to the wall of his cell, chewing the end of his pen as he started to scribble.

To Madam President,

I am writing to express my interest in the position of personal security for the President. I realize my application may raise questions, given my current circumstances, but I ask for your consideration based on my unique qualifications.

Before my incarceration, I was highly skilled in tactical operations, surveillance, and neutralising high-level targets. My ability to assess danger and act decisively has been tested in some of the most dangerous environments.

Though I am serving time for my past actions, I believe in redemption. This position represents an opportunity for me to use my skills for a greater purpose. I have spent my years here reflecting on my choices, and I am prepared to dedicate my life to protecting someone who stands for hope and progress in this country.

Thank you for your time and consideration. I am available for an interview at your convenience.

Sincerely, Dean Winchester

He read over the letter a dozen times, making minor adjustments. It was rough, sure, but it was honest. And honesty was something he didn’t traffic in often, neither were fancy words, and he used a lot of them.

By the time he was done, his hand ached, and the paper was smudged from his grip. He folded it carefully and tucked it into the pocket of his jumpsuit.

The next step was trickier.

Dean’s lawyer, a wiry man named Feldman who’d been paid off by some shadowy client years ago to keep an eye on him, didn’t usually show up unless Dean demanded it. This time, Dean played the card of “urgent legal matter.” When Feldman arrived, looking mildly annoyed but curious, Dean slid the letter across the table during their monitored meeting.

“You want me to…submit this?” Feldman asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean nodded. “Straight to the President’s office. No detours, no ‘I’ll get to it later.’ This is priority one.”

Feldman stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “You realize this is insane, right? You’re in here for life. They’re not going to let you out just because you can write a heartfelt letter.”

“They might if they’re desperate enough,” Dean countered. “And that ad says they’re looking for someone who can do the job, not someone who looks good on paper. I can do the job.”

Feldman sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. “And if I say no?”

Dean’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You won’t. You owe me.”

Feldman muttered something under his breath but pocketed the letter. “You’re lucky I like long shots.”

Weeks passed. Dean didn’t hear anything, and for a while, he wondered if Feldman had tossed the letter in the nearest trash can. But then, one morning, Mustache appeared at his cell with an unreadable expression.

“You’ve got a visitor,” he said gruffly.

Dean frowned. “Who?”

“Didn’t say. Get up.”

Visitors were rare, especially unannounced ones. Dean followed Mustache down the cold, narrow corridors, his curiosity growing. When he reached the visitor room, his breath caught.

The woman sitting on the other side of the plexiglass partition was dressed in a crisp suit, her posture radiating authority. She wasn’t Feldman, and she definitely wasn’t a typical visitor.

Dean picked up the phone on his side of the glass.

“Mr. Winchester,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “I’m here on behalf of the President.”

He leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Guess you got my letter.”

Her expression didn’t change. “We did. It was…unconventional.”

“That’s me in a nutshell.”

She glanced at a folder on the table in front of her. “Your record is extensive. Multiple charges of murder-for-hire, conspiracy, weapons trafficking…” She looked up, her sharp eyes locking onto his. “Why should we trust you?”

Dean leaned forward, his tone serious. “Because I know what I’m doing. You want someone who’ll lay down their life for the President? Someone who’ll see the threats before anyone else does? That’s me. I’ve been on both sides of this game. I know how killers think because I’ve been one. And if you give me this chance, I’ll prove that I’m more than what’s in that file.”

The woman studied him for a long moment before standing. “We’ll be in touch.”

Dean hung up the phone, watching her leave with a mixture of hope and disbelief. For the first time in years, it felt like the world outside ADX Supermax wasn’t as far away as it seemed.

You’d been running interviews for a bodyguard for about a week now, and you’d only started them once Becky had gotten a good rest, as well as the rest of the staff at the White House so they could spend good time with their families. First few weeks of presidency were busy ones, so you wanted your employees to have some time for themselves before anything happened.

Nobody seemed suitable to you, even though you’d been presented with the best FBI, CIA and private outlet’s security detail they had, they’d each and all failed your every attempt to make them seem credible, you didn’t want anyone like that. Tabloids had already gotten to smearing your name regarding this, but you were more concerned with your final applicant.

Dean Winchester.

You’d asked the FBI to send over every file they had on him, and the list was — you hated to say it — extensive. Many assassinations of high and low-level targets, and he was credited with over 100 assassinations in the past two years— you had your doubts about this guy, the director of the FBI had said he was in there for a reason.

You’d find out if he was unhinged, or just a normal man.

Well, Dean had been escorted as covertly as possible with a bunch of military and secret service agents, which didn’t make sense as his hands were shackled to his feet. The only way he’d be getting out of these chains was if he was a magician, and he wasn’t, just incredibly good at marksmanship and fighting, thank John for that.

“Alright, alright.” He scoffed, almost tripping out of the car as he was practically shoved up the steps by the agents by his head. “I’m moving, I’m moving, Jesus fuck, you ladies are uptight.” He got to the door of the White House, and holy shit, he was really here. He got let in, hearing a Secret Service agent blabbing in his ear.

“Any funny business, 353, and we’re sending you straight back. You’re gonna address Madam President with respect, no cheek—” Ugh, the sound of his voice was grating, but all Dean could do was let out a terse nod as he was led to the door of the Oval Office and led inside. He stepped in, glaring at the service agent who had been yapping about decorum. Then, suddenly—

“Oi! Hey, hey!” A woman’s voice snapped, and he looked up from his shackles to see you, and boy, were you young for a president. You had to be his age, right? Yeah, and you were surprisingly gorgeous for a POTUS, but the way you’d stood up with a loud chair screech from your desk, snapped your fingers and pointing at Dean’s shackles with a livid expression, he knew the agents were in deep shit.

“The fuck is this?” You gestured to the heavy shackles on Dean’s wrists and ankles— they were quite heavy and uncomfortable, now that he paid attention to it, but he was more focused on how much of a little Spitfire you were. Young, but you were snapping at these middle-aged men as if they were 5 year old children. “You might as well put a chain around his neck, for God’s sake— whichever of you has the key, take those things off and leave my office, if he kills me, fine, just have Amara take my place, she’ll do a damn good job as well.”

The service agents stood there, stunned, and then a stern look from you — “Damn,” Dean muttered — got the agent next to Dean to shove the key in the lock to his wrists and ankles, letting the chains fall free, and they were promptly carried out. You sighed, returning to your desk, running a hand through your hair.

“I am so sorry about that, Mr Winchester, I’ve just always found those chains really inhumane.” You rushed the sentence, gesturing to your desk in front of you and sipping your coffee to calm down. Honestly, not your best option, it probably made you more jittery.

Dean didn’t argue, he didn’t want to get scolded, just made his way to the desk, grey jumpsuit — he was in protective custody in prison — rustling with every step until he sat down on the irresistibly comfy chair, cause wow, prison chairs were hard and low standard.

His ass felt like it was in heaven right now.

“No problem, ma’am, I see the point. Not exactly the cleanest slate.” He didn’t think it was wise to make a joke of how he’d assassinated people for hire, but it made you laugh, so maybe that was good going. Who knows? “And call me Dean.”

“I see that.” You smiled, then gestured to Dean with a warm smile, not something he was used to unless it was the smiles of his mom that he barely remembered. Otherwise it was either hungry, lustful smiles of desperate women and cunning smiles of ruthless businessmen and mafia bosses. “So, Dean, before we get started, would you like anything? Tea, coffee, water, beer, whiskey— one candidate asked for straight vodka. He’s not getting the job.” Damn. The new POTUS was cool.

“Water would be great.” Dean would have a drop of whiskey, but he wanted to make a good impression and hydrate himself with something other than low-quality prison water. So, when you passed him the water, he downed the tall glass in three gulps, but then paused when he saw you watching.

Then he swallowed. Shit.

But you weren’t judging him, you seemed understanding, that yes, prison water probably tasted like rat piss, so he finished the rest of the glass and wiped his hand with the back of his mouth. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologise. Prison must be really rough, treat yourself.” You waved him off, shaking your head, then peered through his file. Rather interesting family background, how did he turn out that way? “Says here that your father’s a Marine Corporal veteran, thanks for his service, and your brother’s a prosecution lawyer that graduated from Stanford Law. Impressive.” You looked up at him, thumb playing with the ring on your middle finger, eyes focused on the paper.

Dean couldn’t help but note that you were beautiful. Not objectively, just factually beautiful. He’s not being a perv.

“My brother’s a nerd.” Dean stated with a smile as you talked about his family, he didn’t blame them, he wasn’t a bookworm, he wasn’t as smart as his little brother in that aspect, Sam was all about studying and being the good kid.

"Yeah, my brother used to say I was a nerd, now look at me." You chuckled, then nodded in acknowledgement. "You, however, you graduated just on the mark, no honours, didn't go to college and transactions show you started as a hitman when you were 20." You paused for a second, cause that was what you couldn’t put your finger on. "But the equal amounts of money went to Stanford in deposits. Why?"

Dean knew he was gonna be interrogated by the new President, that’s a given, and he made sure to prepare himself for the whole psychological evaluation of himself. His expression remained unreadable, only slightly surprised by how quickly you put together that he’d been paying for his brother’s college.

“He’s family. Sammy’s a good kid, he deserves to get away from this life.” Dean answered, it was a simple answer. It didn’t really dig deep into his past or his true relationships with his family.

Well, all you had to know was that his dad was paranoid after returning from deployment and taught him how to shoot like James fucking Bond and Sammy too, but Sam had left for college while Dean had nothing he could do for himself.

"Mhm." You hummed, looking through the rest of it. "Now my guys are finding that in the years since your brother left college, money you've earned from assassinations ordered by high level clients — that are now behind bars — has been wired to a rehab centre down in Delaware. I looked into it, and I found out your father's staying there. None of that money's going to you." Your voice wasn't judging. You instead sounded understanding.

The only reason why Dean wasn’t surprised or shocked by the fact that you knew this was the fact that you were the President. He should’ve guessed. He smiled slightly as you remained understanding about the whole situation though, most other politicians would’ve seen this as a chance to blackmail and threaten him.

“Yeah, my dad’s got severe PTSD. It’s the only good one nearby.” He explained as he crossed his arms. It would be hard to find a rehab centre that accepted his dad given the whole violent record he had.

You couldn’t help but feel sympathy at that. Dean’s juvenile record wasn’t the cleanest, so no shops would’ve hired him so he could make that money, only black ops would. It was strange, and you’d be under fire by the media if you voiced it, but you saw his struggle. “You did it for your family.” You were surprised at how softly you said that.

“Family don’t end in blood, ma’am.” Dean replied, honestly, and you were hit where it hurt by that statement. You were expecting a cold-hearted killer, not a man trying to do right by his post-traumatic father and little brother. “Not if I’m still breathin’. Sammy’s got a good life, a wife, by what I’ve heard. Don’t wanna burden him with all that shit, a-and I haven’t talked to him in a few years. My boy.” He cleared his throat to not get too emotional.

You had to do that too, just to be clear.

“I’m sorry.” But that wouldn’t just fix everything, so you took a moment to let that hang in order to give him some time. “Only important question I’m gonna ask. Hypothetically, we’re under fire at one of my events. You’ve gotten me to safety, and I give you the order to do the same for civilians. Do you do it?”

Dean took in the question, eyebrow raised slightly as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the table as he studied you. That was a odd but interesting question. This was a job interview for real, it seems.

But this answer was simple.

“Civilians. I’d get the innocents out first.” He said, there wasn’t even a hint of hesitation in his voice. Civilians, innocent people will always come first before anything and anyone. He’d made sure when performing hits that no civilians, women, fathers, men, mothers, children— were safely out of the way before taking a shot. If they weren’t, he refused. He wasn’t risking it.

He was expecting you to refuse him on the spot, but instead two words came out that almost made him go “holy shit”.

“You’re hired.”

You’re. Hired. He could die.

“I-I’m sorry, Madam President, I’m what?” He practically gasped, hands clutching the arms of his seat, watching you take out some already prepared parole papers and walking to the door in your heels, handing the file to one of the service agents.

“Hired.” You said simply, a shrug and a smile offered as you walked to the desk. Fucking hell, Dean had never seen a stranger president in his life. “Your parole is being passed effective immediately, and I wanna get you in touch with my stylist and wardrobe guy so we can get you some new and frankly more comfortable clothes. You’ll be staying here, at the White House, you’ll have full access to my staff for anything you might need, but most importantly, you need to call your family.” You tapped your landline that you had prepared on the desk with a small, encouraging smile. “I have Sam’s number and the rehab centre’s number both in your directory file, I’ll give you some time to talk rather than waiting like a creep.”

As you walked out, Dean couldn’t believe his ears. He was now the President’s bodyguard, he got to live in luxury, no doubt there was a large paycheck and he got to call Sammy again. His Sammy, oh, holy shit.

His hand shook as he reached for the landline, opening the file and there it was, Sam’s number, and it’d changed since he got put in prison a good six months ago. His fingers fumbled, clumsily dialling the number and waiting a moment as the dial tone stopped and the ringing shook his eardrum. Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up, please pick up—

“Hello?” Dean’s heart broke upon hearing Sam’s voice again, and he took a shaky breath. Get a grip, Winchester, it’s only your little brother, the man you raised your while life.

“Bitch.” His voice sounded like he’d smoked cigarettes, and he’d quit that habit after high school, but all he could hear was the dead silence of realisation on the other side.

“Jerk.”

The motorcade pulled up to the white-brick colonial house just as the late afternoon sun began to dip behind the row of oaks lining the driveway. You leaned back in your seat, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. For months now, your life had been a whirlwind of campaign rallies, debates, and sleepless nights in cramped hotels. It all felt surreal. You were the President of the United States. Yet, somehow, coming home to this house—the one you’d grown up in—was what made it all feel real.

Secret Service agents stepped out first, scanning the quiet suburban neighborhood for threats. You glanced out the tinted window, catching a glimpse of the familiar front porch where your father had painted the railing a deep blue years ago. The door creaked open, and a small figure darted out onto the lawn before anyone could stop him.

“Austin!”

The call came from Eden, your sister-in-law, who appeared a moment later, balancing baby Wyatt on her hip. She looked harried but happy, waving at you from the porch. Austin, however, was already halfway to the car, his untied sneakers slapping against the pavement.

You smiled despite yourself. Rolling down the window, you called out, “Hold on, buddy, let them do their job.”

The boy skidded to a stop as one of the agents gently but firmly intercepted him, patting him on the shoulder and guiding him back toward the porch. Austin complied, but his excitement was evident in every bouncing step.

By the time you exited the car, your father, Mark, was standing on the porch steps, arms crossed but with a wide grin splitting his face. “There she is,” he said, his voice booming with pride. “Madame President.”

You felt your cheeks flush as you climbed the steps. “Dad, don’t start.”

“Oh, I’ll start, alright,” he said, pulling you into a tight hug. “My daughter, the leader of the free world! They’re gonna need to expand that Oval Office just to fit my pride.”

“Mark, give her some room to breathe,” your mother, Odette, chided as she stepped outside. She was smaller than you remembered, her hair streaked with more gray than the last time you’d seen her. But her smile was as warm as ever. She held her arms open, and you leaned into her familiar embrace, the scent of lavender and vanilla washing over you.

“It’s good to see you, Mom,” you murmured.

“We’re so proud of you,” she said softly, pulling back to study your face. “But I bet you’re exhausted.”

You nodded, glancing over her shoulder to see your older brother Ryan descending the stairs, a grin on his face. “Well, well, look who decided to come back down to earth,” he teased, reaching out to clap you on the shoulder.

“Someone’s gotta keep you grounded,” you shot back, the familiar rhythm of sibling banter falling into place as though no time had passed.

Eden appeared beside him, Wyatt still on her hip. She offered you a smile, and you leaned in to kiss her cheek. “How’s this little guy doing?” you asked, reaching out to tickle Wyatt’s chin. The baby let out a squeal of laughter, his chubby arms flailing.

“He’s teething,” Eden said with a weary smile. “So, you know…living the dream.”

Austin, who had been hovering impatiently at the edge of the group, finally couldn’t contain himself. “Auntie!” he shouted, throwing his arms around your waist.

“Hey, kiddo,” you said, ruffling his hair. “What’s new?”

“I got an A on my science project!” he said, looking up at you with bright eyes.

“That’s great!” you said. “What was the project?”

“Volcanoes,” he said, puffing out his chest. “Dad helped me with the lava.”

Ryan coughed. “Helped is a strong word. He mostly just told me what to do.”

“That’s because you were doing it wrong!” Austin protested, and the group dissolved into laughter.

Inside, the house was exactly as you remembered it. The worn hardwood floors creaked under your feet, and the faint scent of your mother’s cooking lingered in the air. The walls were covered with family photos—some old, some new—including one of you on election night, surrounded by your team, your face frozen in an expression of shock and joy.

Dinner was already laid out on the long wooden table in the dining room. A roast chicken sat in the center, surrounded by bowls of mashed potatoes, green beans, and your mother’s famous macaroni casserole. It was a far cry from the catered meals you’d been eating on the campaign trail, and your stomach growled in anticipation.

“Let’s eat before it gets cold,” Odette said, ushering everyone to their seats.

You took your usual spot, sandwiched between Austin and your father, while Ryan carved the chicken. Plates were passed around, and soon the room was filled with the clatter of silverware and the hum of conversation.

Mark raised his glass of water. “A toast,” he said, his voice cutting through the din. “To my daughter. The first woman to sit in the Oval Office. You’ve made us all so proud.”

“Here, here!” Ryan chimed in, lifting his own glass.

You felt a lump rise in your throat as you clinked glasses with everyone around the table. For a moment, the weight of your responsibilities seemed to lift, replaced by the simple joy of being surrounded by the people who had always believed in you.

After dinner, you helped your mother clear the table, despite her protests. “You’re the President now,” she said, swatting your hands away from the plates. “You don’t need to be doing dishes.”

“Maybe not,” you said, grinning. “But I don’t think I’ve outgrown being your daughter.”

She relented, shaking her head with a fond smile, and the two of you worked side by side in comfortable silence. When the last dish was put away, you found yourself drawn to the living room, where the rest of the family had gathered.

Ryan was sprawled on the couch, flipping through a photo album with Austin perched beside him. Eden sat in the armchair, rocking Wyatt to sleep, while Mark stood by the fireplace, nursing a cup of coffee.

You sank into the armchair opposite Eden, your eyes drawn to the flickering flames in the hearth. “It feels good to be home,” you said softly.

Mark looked over at you, his expression thoughtful. “You’ve got a hell of a road ahead of you, kid,” he said. “But don’t forget—you’ve got us. We’re here for you, no matter what.”

You nodded, feeling the truth of his words settle in your chest. “I know,” you said. “And I’m going to need that. All of it.”

Ryan looked up from the photo album, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Think we’ll get to visit the White House? Austin’s dying to see the bowling alley.”

Austin’s head snapped up. “There’s a bowling alley?”

You laughed. “There is. And yeah, you’ll all come visit. But I can’t promise I’ll have much time for bowling.”

“Why not?” Austin asked, his brow furrowing. “You’re the President. Can’t you just…make time?”

The simplicity of his question made you smile. “It’s a little more complicated than that, buddy,” you said. “But I’ll do my best.”

Later that night, after the house had quieted and everyone had gone to bed, you found yourself standing in the backyard. The air was crisp and cool, and the stars above were brighter than you remembered. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the enormity of your new role settle over you like a heavy cloak.

The back door creaked open, and Mark stepped outside, a blanket draped over his shoulders. He joined you on the porch, handing you a steaming mug of tea.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Too much on my mind.”

Mark nodded, staring out at the dark yard. “It’s a big job,” he said. “But if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

“I hope so,” you said quietly.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. “You’ve got what it takes,” he said. “And you’ve got us. Don’t forget that.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with gratitude. “Thanks, Dad.”

He smiled, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. “Come on,” he said, gesturing toward the house. “You’ve got a long day ahead of you tomorrow. Let’s get some sleep.”

As you followed him inside, you felt a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in months. No matter how hard the road ahead might be, you knew you wouldn’t be walking it alone.

The Oval Office was as grand as you’d imagined—perhaps even more so. Its high, curved ceilings and rich, historic decor exuded authority, yet the warmth of the afternoon sunlight filtering through the tall windows softened the edges, giving the room an almost serene quality.

You sat at the Resolute Desk, a stack of documents waiting for your signature. Each one bore the weight of history. Education reforms. Trade agreements. Environmental policies. Every flick of your pen carried consequences that rippled far beyond the iconic walls of this room.

Across the room, Becky, your ever-efficient assistant, was perched on the edge of one of the armchairs, tablet in hand. “After this meeting with the education committee, you’ve got a fifteen-minute break before the press briefing,” she said, scrolling rapidly through the day’s schedule. “Then at three, there’s the Cabinet discussion on infrastructure. And don’t forget the call with the German Chancellor at four.”

“Got it,” you replied, signing your name with a practiced flourish. “Anything else?”

Becky hesitated, glancing at her screen. “Oh, and your new personal bodyguard will be arriving shortly. Dean Winchester.”

You kept your expression neutral, though you’d been briefed extensively on this particular appointment. A former hitman, Dean’s resume wasn’t exactly typical for someone tasked with protecting the President. But his unconventional background—and the skillset that came with it—was exactly why he’d been chosen.

“Right,” you said, setting your pen down. “I’ve read his file. Has he been through security clearance?”

“Thoroughly vetted,” Becky assured you. “And cleared. He should be here any moment.”

You nodded, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Let’s hope he lives up to the hype.”

Just as Becky opened her mouth to reply, the door opened.

You looked up, and the words you were about to say caught in your throat.

Dean Winchester strode into the room with the kind of presence that made people stop and take notice. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with a casual confidence that hinted at years of facing danger head-on. He wore a dark gray suit that was tailored just enough to highlight his powerful frame but not so tight as to make him look polished or delicate. The crisp white shirt underneath contrasted against his tanned skin, and his black tie was slightly loosened, as if he’d deliberately left it that way.

Despite the formal attire, there was an undeniable ruggedness about him. His short, tousled hair was just slightly too messy to be regulation, and the shadow of stubble along his jaw added an edge that no amount of tailoring could hide. His green eyes, sharp and assessing, swept the room before landing on you.

You found yourself momentarily distracted by the way the suit accentuated his broad chest and tapered waist. It was a rare thing for someone to wear something so formal yet exude the kind of raw, unrefined masculinity that Dean seemed to embody.

“Madame President,” he said, his voice low and gravelly as he stopped a respectful distance from your desk.

You forced yourself to refocus, clearing your throat as you rose from your seat. “Mr. Winchester.” You allowed yourself a small smile, noting the way his gaze remained steady but professional. “You clean up well.”

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Thanks. I aim to please.”

Becky glanced between the two of you before standing. “I’ll step out and make sure everything’s ready for the committee meeting,” she said, gathering her tablet.

“Thanks, Becky,” you said, watching her leave before turning back to Dean.

For a moment, the room felt smaller. His presence was magnetic, and you couldn’t help but take him in once more, your gaze lingering on the way his shoulders filled out the suit jacket, the way his long fingers rested casually at his sides, the way they gripped his chair as he sat down. You snapped your attention back to his face before he could notice.

Dean leaned back slightly in the chair, taking in the sight of you as you scanned your schedule on the tablet in front of you. The soft lighting of the Oval Office seemed to highlight the sharp lines of your features, and the way you carried yourself—confident, composed, entirely in command—struck him in a way he hadn’t expected.

He’d done his research, of course. He knew your career milestones, your policies, even a few of your personal quirks. But seeing you in person was different. The photographs didn’t do you justice.

As you spoke, your voice clear and firm, Dean found himself watching the curve of your lips, the subtle tilt of your head when you emphasized a point. You had a presence that filled the room, a quiet strength that made it impossible to look away.

“Your main job,” you were saying, “is to ensure my safety, both here and when I travel. You’ll coordinate with the Secret Service, but your focus will be on close-range protection. You’ll accompany me to all public appearances, meetings, and events.”

Dean nodded, forcing himself to focus on your words rather than the way your blouse fit perfectly beneath your blazer. “Understood. Anything specific I should know about your routine?”

You looked up, meeting his gaze. “It varies. I keep a tight schedule, but unexpected situations come up all the time. You’ll need to be adaptable.”

“I’m good at that,” Dean said, his tone confident but not cocky.

“Good.” You swiped at the tablet, then set it down on the desk. “I’ve read your file. Your skillset is…impressive.”

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “That’s one way to put it.”

You arched an eyebrow, your lips curving into a wry smile. “I’d call it unconventional, but that seems to be exactly what I need.”

Dean’s gaze flicked over you again, this time lingering on the curve of your jawline, the way your fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the desk. He’d worked with plenty of high-profile people before, but you were in a league of your own.

“Anything else I should be aware of?” he asked, his voice low.

You tilted your head, considering him for a moment. “You’re going to see me at my best and my worst,” you said plainly. “Long hours, high stress, bad days, good days. It comes with the territory.”

Dean nodded. “I’m here to do my job, ma’am. Whatever it takes.”

Something in his tone made you pause, your gaze sharpening as you studied him. “You’ve been in worse situations, haven’t you?”

“Let’s just say I’m no stranger to high stakes,” he replied, his smirk returning.

You leaned back in your chair, satisfied. “Good. I’ll need someone who can keep a cool head under pressure. And someone who doesn’t mind telling me the hard truth when I need to hear it.”

Dean’s smirk widened slightly. “I can handle that.”

The conversation shifted to logistics—your upcoming travel schedule, security protocols, and daily routines. Dean asked a few questions, his tone professional, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was studying you as much as he was listening.

If you noticed the way his eyes dipped to your collarbone when you leaned forward to make a point, or how his gaze lingered on the curve of your wrist as you gestured, you didn’t let on. You were focused, deliberate, every bit the commander-in-chief he’d expected.

When the meeting wrapped up, you stood and extended a hand again. “Welcome aboard, Dean. I look forward to working with you.”

Dean rose, his hand engulfing yours once more. “The pleasure’s mine, ma’am.”

As he turned to leave, you called after him, “And Dean?”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder.

“You really do look good in that suit.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Alone again, you returned to your desk, your mind already shifting to the next task. But for a moment, you allowed yourself a small smile.

It was going to be an interesting partnership.

“Ok, excuse me?” Bella had practically squealed when the door to your bedroom behind you, her and Steph had been shut by Dean, who was now waiting outside to give you some privacy, and thank God those walls were thick enough to hide this conversation. “You didn’t tell us your bodyguard was a Ben Affleck and Brad Pitt combo.”

Steph scoffed, shaking her head. “Girl, no. He’s better than that, he puts Adonis to shame— where’s he been hiding?” They both turned to you expectantly, clearly not aware that your Adonis-transcendent bodyguard was fresh out of the United States Penitentiary, Administrative Maximum Facility. Oh, that’s gonna be a hard pill to swallow, right?

“Prison.” You swallowed, clearing your throat awkwardly upon saying it, cause you weren’t often the bringer of news that a guy like Dean used to be a prolific criminal who kills for money. “ADX Florence. An ex-hitman, to be clear, with over 100 kills in the past two years.”

“So he’s a bad boy.” Bella giggled, clearly not phased, which kind of concerned you with which brain they both were thinking from, and hopefully not the downstairs one. “Even better, oh my god, I was getting worried he’s a goodie.”

Steph raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a sly grin. “Right? Like, you can’t just drop ‘ex-hitman with over 100 kills’ and not expect us to have questions. Or fantasies.”

“Steph!” you choked, glancing toward the door as if Dean could hear through the thick walls.

“What? I’m just saying!” She crossed her arms, leaning back against the bedpost. “Honestly, though? He’s got that whole ‘dark past but reformed bad boy’ thing going for him. You’re living every romance novel heroine’s dream.”

Bella, not to be outdone, clutched at her chest dramatically. “Forget romance novels—I’d climb him like a tree. That man looks like he could bench press me and not even break a sweat.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Can we not?”

“We absolutely can,” Bella countered, her voice rising with glee. “Seriously, you’ve got the hottest bodyguard in the country, and you didn’t think we needed to know this? Girl, where’s your sense of sisterhood?”

Steph was nodding in agreement. “Yeah, you’re withholding important information. Like, what’s he like in person? Is he all business, or does he have that smoldering, ‘I could kill you, but I won’t’ energy?”

Your cheeks burned, both from their shameless gushing and the mental image Steph’s words conjured. “He’s…fine. Professional.”

“‘Professional,’ she says,” Bella snorted. “Professional at looking fine as hell, maybe.” She leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. “Come on. What’s he like? Does he flirt? Does he give you those ‘I’m secretly in love with you’ stares when you’re not looking?”

You glared at her. “No. Absolutely not. He’s just doing his job.”

“Sure he is,” Steph said with a smirk, clearly not buying it. “But don’t think we didn’t notice the way he looked at you when he shut the door earlier.”

You blinked. “What? He didn’t—”

“Oh, honey,” Bella interrupted, waving her hand dramatically. “He totally did. That man looked at you like you were the last piece of chocolate cake at a birthday party. And don’t even get me started on how he stood. You know, all broody and protective, like some kind of…” She trailed off, searching for the right words.

“Alpha wolf guarding his mate,” Steph supplied helpfully.

“Exactly!” Bella snapped her fingers. “Thank you, Steph. That’s exactly the vibe.”

You groaned again, resisting the urge to bang your head against the nearest wall. “You two need help.”

“What we need,” Steph said, grinning wickedly, “is for you to admit that you’ve at least thought about it. Because if you haven’t, you’re lying.”

“I haven’t!” you protested, a little too quickly.

Bella’s eyes lit up like she’d just won the lottery. “Oh my God, you totally have! Look at you—your ears are turning red.”

“Leave me alone,” you muttered, glaring at the floor.

But they weren’t about to let you off the hook.

“Okay, okay,” Steph said, holding up a hand as if to calm the chaos. “Let’s be serious for a second. He’s obviously gorgeous, and clearly there’s some…tension. But what’s the story? Like, how did you even end up with him as your bodyguard? I feel like there’s a Netflix series waiting to happen here.”

You hesitated, weighing how much to tell them. “It’s…complicated. He was recommended through some very high-level channels. Apparently, he’s the best at what he does.”

“And what he does is kill people,” Bella said, her voice dripping with mock solemnity.

You shot her a look. “Not anymore. He’s reformed. He went through a rigorous vetting process before he was even considered for the position.”

Steph tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “So, he’s done bad things, but now he’s protecting the President of the United States. That’s a redemption arc if I’ve ever heard one.”

Bella sighed wistfully. “And he’s doing it all while looking like a Calvin Klein model who got lost on his way to the shoot.”

“Can we not turn this into a thirst-fest?” you pleaded, though you knew it was a losing battle.

Bella leaned closer, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, sweetie. It’s already a thirst-fest. You’re just in denial.”

The conversation spiraled from there, with Bella and Steph taking turns crafting increasingly absurd fantasies about Dean’s hypothetical love life.

“He probably has a tragic backstory,” Bella said dreamily, lying back on the bed. “Like, maybe he lost the love of his life in some tragic accident, and now he’s sworn to protect others to atone for his past.”

“Or,” Steph countered, “he’s secretly a billionaire who does this for the adrenaline rush. Like, by day he’s your bodyguard, but by night he’s funding orphanages and saving puppies.”

Bella clapped her hands. “Yes! And in his free time, he restores classic cars and writes poetry.”

You stared at them, equal parts amused and horrified. “You two have officially lost it.”

“Or,” Steph said, ignoring you entirely, “he’s secretly in love with you, and this whole bodyguard thing is just an excuse to be close to you.”

Bella gasped, sitting up suddenly. “Steph, that’s it! That’s the one!”

You buried your face in your hands. “I regret ever letting you meet him.”

“Don’t be like that,” Bella said, patting your shoulder. “We’re just saying—you’re sitting on a goldmine of romantic potential here. If you don’t at least consider it, we will.”

“Noted,” you said dryly, standing up and heading for the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do. Unlike you two.”

Bella and Steph exchanged knowing looks as you opened the door to find Dean standing just outside, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.

He straightened slightly when you stepped into the hallway, his eyes meeting yours. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” you said quickly, avoiding his gaze as you brushed past him.

But as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Steph and Bella might have been onto something.

The drive to Sam’s place was smooth, the kind of easy journey Dean Winchester hadn’t experienced in years. Maybe ever. The hum of the Impala’s engine, a comforting growl beneath him, was as close to peace as Dean could imagine. His day off had finally rolled around, and he hadn’t hesitated to decide how he’d spend it.

Sam had settled in a quiet neighborhood outside Washington, D.C., where tree-lined streets and neat, white-picket fences painted a picture of suburban serenity. It was a far cry from the lives they’d led growing up, but Dean couldn’t deny it suited his little brother.

Pulling up to the house, Dean killed the engine and climbed out, adjusting his leather jacket as he took in the sight. The two-story home was modest but inviting, with a tidy lawn and a swing set in the backyard visible through the side gate. He could hear faint laughter—probably from Dean Jr., Sam and Jess’s kid, who, much to Dean’s delight, was his namesake.

Dean’s boots crunched against the gravel path as he approached the front door. Before he could knock, it swung open, and Sam stood there, looking every bit the family man.

“Dean,” Sam greeted, his face lighting up in a grin. “Right on time.”

“Of course,” Dean said, stepping inside. “I’m punctual now. Didn’t you hear? I’ve got a government job.”

Sam chuckled, clapping Dean on the shoulder as he shut the door behind him. “I’m still getting used to the idea.”

Inside, the house was warm and lived-in. Pictures adorned the walls—Jess and Sam on their wedding day, little Dean Jr. blowing out candles on a birthday cake, snapshots of family trips to the beach. The scent of something delicious wafted from the kitchen, and Dean’s stomach growled in response.

“Jess is cooking?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

“She insists,” Sam replied with a shrug. “Says you need a proper meal after all that ‘White House food.’”

Dean smirked. “Tell her I’m not gonna argue with that.”

Jess appeared moments later, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. She was glowing, as she always seemed to be, her blonde hair pulled into a loose ponytail and her smile bright enough to light up the room.

“Dean!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a quick hug. “It’s been too long.”

“Too long,” Dean agreed, glancing over her shoulder. “Where’s the rugrat?”

As if on cue, the sound of small feet thudding down the stairs filled the house. Dean Jr. appeared, his face lighting up when he saw his uncle. The kid was a spitting image of Sam, with floppy brown hair and wide hazel eyes, but he had Dean’s mischievous grin.

“Uncle Dean!”

“Dean-o!” Dean crouched, catching the boy as he barreled into him. “What’s up, kiddo? You keeping your old man in line?”

Dean Jr. nodded enthusiastically. “Dad says you work for the President now. Is that true?”

Dean ruffled the boy’s hair. “Sure is. Cool, huh?”

“Super cool,” Dean Jr. said, his eyes wide with awe.

“Alright, enough hero worship,” Sam teased, though his smile betrayed how much he enjoyed seeing his son and brother bond. “Come on, dinner’s almost ready.”

The meal was hearty—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables—and filled with easy conversation. Dean filled them in on the basics of his new job, skirting around the grittier details of his past. Sam and Jess shared stories about their life, from Jess’s latest work project to Dean Jr.’s adventures in Little League.

It was only after the dishes were cleared and Jess had taken Dean Jr. upstairs to bed that the conversation turned serious.

The brothers sat in the living room, each nursing a beer. The light from the fireplace cast a warm glow, and the house was quiet except for the occasional creak of the floorboards above.

“So,” Sam began, leaning back on the couch, “you gonna tell me how this happened?”

Dean took a long swig of his beer, then set the bottle down on the coffee table. “What, me working for the President? Thought you already knew.”

“I know the headlines,” Sam said, his brow furrowing. “But what I don’t know is how you went from ADX Florence to the White House.”

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Figured you’d ask eventually.”

“Of course I’d ask.” Sam’s voice was gentle but firm. “You were in prison, Dean. The kind of prison people don’t just walk out of.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It started with a newspaper.”

Sam blinked. “A newspaper?”

Dean nodded. “I was in my cell, flipping through this paper someone left behind. Saw an ad for a private security position with the President. They were looking for someone who could think outside the box, someone with…unconventional skills.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “And you thought, ‘Hey, that sounds like me’?”

“Something like that.” Dean’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “Figured I didn’t have much to lose, so I wrote up a resume. Handed it off to my lawyer, told him to file it.”

Sam stared at him, his disbelief evident. “And they just…hired you?”

“No,” Dean said with a chuckle. “They didn’t even call me at first. Took weeks before I heard anything. When they finally did, they put me through the wringer—interviews, background checks, psych evaluations. The works.”

“And they still hired you?” Sam asked, shaking his head in amazement.

“Guess they figured my track record spoke for itself,” Dean said, his tone turning more serious. “I’ve done things, Sam. Bad things. But I’ve also done what needed to be done when no one else could. They saw that.”

Sam was quiet for a moment, processing his brother’s words. “And now you’re protecting the most powerful person in the world.”

Dean nodded. “Guess you could say I’m making up for lost time.”

Sam studied his brother, his expression thoughtful. “You know, Jess and I were talking about you the other night. About how far you’ve come. We’re proud of you, Dean.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably, not used to hearing such straightforward praise. “Don’t get all mushy on me, Sammy.”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m serious. You’ve been through hell and back, and somehow you’re still standing.”

Dean took another sip of his beer, his gaze distant. “Yeah, well. Standing’s about all I’m good at.”

“That’s not true,” Sam said firmly. “You’ve got a purpose now. A second chance. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Dean glanced at his brother, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Sammy.”

Sam returned the smile, then leaned back with a sigh. “So, what’s she like? The President.”

Dean hesitated, caught off guard by the question. “She’s…different.”

“Different how?”

“She’s smart. Sharp as hell. Tough, but not in a fake way. And she actually listens, which is more than I can say for most people in her position.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you respect her.”

“I do,” Dean admitted.

“And for your type…” Sam smirked, his voice taking on a teasing tone. “She’s pretty hot.”

Dean nearly choked on his beer. “Sam!”

“What?” Sam asked, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying. You’ve got a thing for strong women, and she sounds like she fits the bill.”

Dean shook his head, trying to suppress a laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it,” Sam said with a grin. “Besides, you deserve someone who can keep up with you.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through him at his brother’s words.

The rest of the evening passed in easy conversation, the kind that only happened between brothers who’d been through it all together. When Dean finally stood to leave, Sam walked him to the door, clapping him on the shoulder as he stepped outside.

“Take care of yourself, Dean,” Sam said, his voice quiet but steady.

“You too, Sammy,” Dean replied, his gaze lingering on his brother’s home—the warmth, the love, the life Sam had built.

As Dean climbed into the Impala and drove away, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a place for him in this world after all.

NEXT UP:

“Dean,” you said, a touch of surprise in your voice. “I thought you were on your break.”

He didn’t reply right away. Instead, his gaze locked with yours, and the air seemed to thicken. There was something different about him—an intensity in his expression, a flicker of something unspoken.

Without a word, he reached up and tugged at his tie, loosening it further before slipping it over his head and tossing it onto one of the chairs.

Your eyebrows shot up. “What are you doing?”

Dean didn’t answer. He shrugged out of his suit jacket next, draping it over the back of a chair with deliberate ease. His movements were slow, calculated, and impossibly confident.

“Dean?” you repeated, your voice catching slightly.

His shirt followed. Button by button, he undid it with maddening patience, his green eyes never leaving yours. Your breath hitched as he peeled it off, revealing the broad, chiseled planes of his chest and the faint scars that crisscrossed his skin—a testament to a dangerous past.

By the time his hands went to his belt, your pulse was racing.

“What are you—” you began, but the words died in your throat as he stepped forward.

In one smooth motion, Dean swept the documents off your desk, scattering them across the floor. He leaned down, his hands bracketing you on either side as he effortlessly lifted you onto the polished wood surface.

TAGLIST: @goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii

@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57

@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

@gleefulleve @sacrosankta

@riteofpassage77 @eevvvaa @thedevilortheangel @thorsballhair @barbienotdoll

@4e1h3r @wolfieblue03 @kianaleani @vicky199625 @sassyslut2003

@impyrz

@didisull @miwp @lastcallatrockysbar @rizlowwritessortof

@zepskies @angelbabyyy99

@autisticgothic

@yourgoldengirls @deansobsessedgirl @mrsjenniferwinchester

@aylacavebear @lailawinchesterr @brightlilith @arcanaa @hobby27

@lyarr24 @ximm19

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

@cheynovak @bitchykittenconnoisseur @underground-secret @heartiella

@bollzinurmouth

©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

[frudoo]

Literally obsessed with your Slasher 141 series, its been giving me so much brainrot

I have a few ideas;

reader feels a bit self conscious about her body and the boys make it their mission to show her how beautiful she is in their eyes (could be fluff or smut)

OR

Reader decides to be a brat over text to the boys as they were out for the day, and hides from the boys once they arrive home, resulting in them hunting and chasing her down 👀👀 ( smut and a lil fluff )

This is very self-indulgent because I've been feeling bad about my own body lately. This is for my fellow fat girls <3

Warnings: Mentions of skipping meals, food in general. Self-deprecating thoughts, somewhat poor communication. Fem!Reader is fat (in all of the slasher!141 AU). Fluff!

You’ve been off lately. During mealtime with the boys, you barely eat, just poke at the food on your plate. It isn’t like you—you’re usually the one to cook and try out all kinds of new recipes to share with your lovers, or baking sweet treats to give them after a hard day—so for you to suddenly have no interest in food is concerning. Tonight is no exception. John made your favorite, beef stew and cornbread (a southern delicacy you taught him how to make), but you just mindlessly stir the stew with your spoon, eyes focused on nothing at all.

     “How was your day, dove?” Kyle tries to break you from your trance, but you only nod.

     “Helped a chicken give birth today,” Simon stares straight at you, ignoring the incredulous looks the other three men give him.

     Still, no sort of reaction from you, other than an uninterested hum. 

     “Ah went tae the doctor earlier,” Johnny says next. “Turns oot ah’m pregnant.”

     “Nice,” you deadpan, completely oblivious to the outrageous lies these dumbasses have been telling you. 

     “Enough,” Price furrows his eyebrows, dropping his spoon with a clang. “Darlin’, you haven’t eaten in two days.”

     This time, you listen. Immediately, you rush to defend yourself, eyes narrowed at the bearded man.

     “I’ve just been fe-”

    “Don’t you give me that bullshit about bein’ sick, either. I’ve seen you sick, and it was completely different than this,” he interrupts, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Speak, baby. Tell us what’s goin’ on in that pretty head o’yours.”

     “It’s nothing,” you grumble.

     Simon sighs dramatically, slapping his palms down on the dining room table to push himself up out of his chair. Before you can protest, he picks you up and sits in your seat, then settles you in his lap. You try to wriggle free, but his hold on you is unwavering. 

     “Stop strugglin’ and tell us wha’ the fuck is wrong w’you,” the blond man grunts, strong arms wrapped around your waist so you can’t move as much. 

     “I hate my body!” You blurt, and the room falls silent. “I-I don’t know what you all see in me. I just… I look gross.”

     Tears build in your eyes and spill past your waterline, streaming down your round cheeks. All four men look at each other wordlessly, unsure of what to say. Their silence breaks your heart, and you manage to wriggle out of Simon’s lap. 

     “I’m going to bed,” you mumble, wiping your eyes with your sweatshirt and moping your way upstairs.

     Your bedroom is the furthest down the hall, the longest walk. Usually this fact doesn’t bother you, but with your state of mind the way it is right now, you can’t help but feel like it’s purposeful. You slam the door shut and lock it, purposefully avoiding looking at yourself in the mirror as you flop into bed. It creaks with your weight, and you let out another sob. 

     You end up crying yourself to sleep, clammy face stuck to your pillow. When you wake up, you find that your door is still locked and try your hardest not to burst into tears all over again. Not one of the boys came to check on you last night? It makes you feel even worse—are you that much of an eyesore that they don’t dare come see if you’re okay? The thought makes your stomach churn. A knock makes itself known on your door, pulling you from your thoughts.

     “Dove? Can you let us in?” Kyle’s soft voice sounds from the hallway. “Please?”

     “We wanna talk to you, sweet girl,” Price’s voice comes next, followed by more pleas from Johnny and Simon.

     With a shaky sigh, you oblige, unlocking the door and swinging it open. When your eyes fall on them, you bite back a gasp—they all look exhausted, puffy bags beneath their bloodshot eyes, frowns tugging their lips downward. You can’t imagine you look any better, but still, your heart aches seeing them look so down.

     “Hey, bonnie,” Johnny instantly brightens up when he sees you, and you have to fight the urge to push him off when he wraps his arms around you. 

     “Hi,” you mutter, impartial to the kiss the Scotsman plants on your temple.

     They all trail into your room nervously, and it’s just then that you notice a large jar in Simon’s arms. Your eyebrows furrow as you sit on the edge of your bed, waiting for one of them to speak up first.

     “I want to start by apologizin’, sweetheart,” John begins, sitting beside you on your bed. “We were all… well, none of us were expectin’ to hear you talk about yourself like that, and we panicked. That wasn’t fair to you.”

     You shrug, eyes focused on your lap. Price reaches out to grab your hand, gently running his thumb across your knuckles. 

     “You are absolutely stunnin’. You are the farthest thing from gross, dove,” Kyle sits on your opposite side, grabbing your unoccupied hand. 

     “Ah think ah speak fer all of us when ah say tha’ we love yer body,” Johnny hums.

     “I’m fat,” you frown, and Simon scoffs.

     “Yeah? And?” He narrows his eyes at you. “We like y’like tha’. More t’grab, more t’love.”

     “I don’t understand why,” you whisper, chewing on your bottom lip anxiously. 

     “What’s not to understand?” John squeezes your hand. “You’re soft, and warm.”

     “The fuckin’ best at cuddlin’, too,” Kyle grins.

     “Great tits,” Johnny butts in, earning himself a jab to the ribcage from Simon. “Och- wha’?! It’s true!”

     “Wha’ the wanker is tryin’ t’say is tha’ you’re perfect. For us, in general—y’complete us, love. Your body is jus’ a plus,” Simon concludes, finally stepping forward to offer you the jar.

     “What’s this?” You ask, carefully pulling your hands out of Kyle and John’s. 

     “We spent all nigh’ gatherin’ up pictures of you tha’ we love,” Kyle explains, watching excitedly as you screw the lid off. 

     Inside, the jar is filled to the brim with photos and polaroid pictures—candids of you baking in the kitchen, napping on the couch, tending to the garden or the animals, even selfies you sent to Johnny when the two of you first started talking online. Mixed in with those is printouts of text messages they’ve all sent each other, fawning over you, some of which dating back to even before you met the others. Tears stream down your face yet again, but instead of being sad, you’re overwhelmed with love and joy from these men you get to call yours.

     “I-I don’t know what to say,” you sniffle, setting down the jar to wipe your eyes.

     “Don’t say anythin’, darlin’, just let us hold you,” John murmurs, pulling you onto the bed and wrapping an arm around your waist.

     Maybe being dogpiled by your four huge husbands on an already creaky bed isn’t the best idea, but hey, all that matters is that you’re happy.

[tevaselmundogiraalreves]

Buddie fic recs:

I've been wanting to do my own list of my favorite fics for a while now so here it goes (in no particular order):

- my words are paper tigers by @hattalove (this ones my favorite of them and i'd say a little underrated maybe?) TIMELOOP TIMELOOP TIMELOOP - buck breaks up with eddie, the universe doesnt agree - ITS PERFECT I'VE READ IT FOR THE FIRST TIME SO LONG AGO AND ITS STILL ONE OF MY FAVORITES EVER.

- Actually, truly by MilenaDaniels Helena (and Ramon) tries to find a way back into Eddie's life and doesn't know what to make of finding Buck around every corner she turns. (Or: "Mom, listen.")

- burn the straw house down by rarakiplin - what to even say i think everyone has read this one already but just in case TIMELOOP TIMELOOP TIMELOOP

- Happy Little Accidents by @like-the-rest-of-la - one of the first au i ever read for buddie and i was so ENCHANTED what to even say, buck owns a plant nursery. Its just so soft and so so so beautiful.

- said i couldn't stay, but it's different now by @hattalove - another fave of them. Many weddings and buddie in the middle of it all.

- Close My Eyes and Stumble (Right Into Your Love) by HSMLusitania - i think everyone and their mother has read this one aswell but just in case EDDIE DISPATCHER.

- Burn a bridge, learn how to swim by Watermelonshots - this is a series and jesus christ it literally starts with a buddie drunk make out session so-

- Sit with me in the dark by @kitkatpancakestack - buck loses his vision- !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Soft and kind and yeah beautiful and buck glasses kink anyone?.

- Lifelines by @hetrez . This fic is literally a lifeline - buck and eddie meet during the tsunami and talk about being in the closet. I have no words for how much this fic meabs to me. FLAWLESS.

- about the present by @runawaymarbles - this is a series now and god this was so so fucking special and unique - the first part eddie in the aftermath of being in a timeloop of the shooting. The second one is buck handling it on his own way. PERFECTION. Still thinking about it.

- a good day to be by @hetrez Eddie is a dance instructor, buck needs dance clases for madneys wedding. As flawless as the other one. Eddie Diaz needs a hug yeah.

- we'll be forever, you'll see by rarakiplin - Eddie Diaz finds a cat and heals and heals. And is so loved. I think i cried the first time i finished this one.

- still by @gayhoediaz - once again i think everyone knows this one but just in case, eddie steps on a detonator. ANGSTS SO MUCH ANGSTS AND THAT ENDING YEAH.

- but i can see all along, love (it was you all the way down) by @captain-hen - eddie confesses his feelings, buck rejects him, TIMELOOP TIMELOOP TIMELOOP

- authentication by @vgreysoncellars - i think i described this one as a never ending extention of 7x06 like nights abd just pride and pride and liberation. Eddie picks guys in bars for buck to make out with...

- oh, come when you're called by @lesbianrobin CHRIS 💘 no other words needed i think

- i'm a cliché (who cares) by @cranberrymoons UFF THIS ONE MAKES ME SO EMOTIONAL - eddie realizes stuff and buck is there every step of the way.

- bark like you want it by @colonoscopys - SOULMATES AU so so funny and wholesome.

- the love triptych by @cranberrymoons - this ones just so freaking special to me. Helena trying and trying and trying cause she loves her son. And buddie together through it all.

- so much left in store by @lesbianrobin - UNI AU UNI AU UNI AU !!!!!!! AND VERY IMPORTANT BABY CHRIS💘

- hang me up on your bedroom wall by @eddiegettingshot WELL buck just wants (more) but only if eddie gets him pregnant about it... (infidelity fic)

- close ain't close enough (til we cross the line) by @cranberrymoons buddie sexting buddie sexting buddie sexting and being so so freaking insane and not normal about it. (Infidelity fic)

- throw a bone, i’m finally home by @shitouttabuck - i think everyone knows the like a dog verse by now (come on lol) but yeah i'm very very obsessed especially with the second part of it.

[darkeralmond]

Luca smut… that’s the request, you pick the plot lmao

TYSM FOR THE REQUEST!! i am so obsessed with never have i ever so i just had to do this scene

Study Session

Luca Fantilli x fem! Reader

song: company - justin bieber

synopsis: y/n is luca’s tutor, and you’ve not been showing up to the past couple tutoring sessions. you and luca get in a huge argument and now you guys aren’t talking. he then crawls into your window and things get crazy

warnings: 18+, smut, p in v, she/her pronouns, luca calling u “good girl”, high school au!

word count: 1.6k

a/n: this is based off that one scene with paxton and devi from never have i ever when he crawls into her window and kisses her. literally my favorite scene ever. i’m in love with him and luca. ALSO THE EDITS TO COMPANY WITH LUCA LIVE IN MY HEAD RENT FREE

masterlist | request info

For the past couple days, Luca has been mad at you. The thing about Luca is that he was all beauty, no brains. He relied on his hockey abilities to score himself into college. He broke his arm while playing in a game which left him with a season ending injury.

Now he relied on your tutoring to help him get the grades for college. Even then, he couldn’t seem to pay attention when it came to that kind of stuff.

When Luca came up to confront you about you flaking on your guys’ tutoring sessions, it broke out into a huge public argument in the hall. In the heat of the moment, you screamed at him which you regretted deeply.

“Maybe, you should start studying on your own,” you yelled. “If you wanna be a good student, then be a good student! I can't hold your hand forever!” Like that, you stormed away. That single statement ruined that entire relationship you built up with him.

It looked like he took your advice however. He started getting A’s on his projects all without your help. You felt happy to watch him succeed independently, but it made you feel uncomfortable to know that maybe he never needed you after all.

You were laying on your bed while listening to music. You felt your phone buzz against your stomach which startled you. You had your phone on ‘do not disturb’ mode since you wanted some alone time without any distractions. You checked the notification and saw it was Luca texting you. You furrowed your eyebrows and read the text.

Luca

Wyd

Me

Nothing

Luca

Can u let me in?

There was then a knock at your window. Your breath got caught in your throat as you shot your head up. You saw Luca outside your window while the rain poured down on him. You quickly threw your phone to the side along with your headphones and got out of your bed.

You rushed over to the window and unlocked it. “Luca?” you whispered. “You’re in my house?”

“Yeah,” Luca said as he looked around your bedroom. “I guess so.” He looked back at you with a smile on his face. His hair was soaking wet, his clothes were drenched, and he was in your bedroom. You blinked a couple times as silence filled the air around you two. “Look, I just wanted to thank you for pushing me to be a better student. It felt good to finally do something well in school.”

He had never been hotter. He shot you a look with his bedroom eyes, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to wrap your head around everything currently happening. “So…” you started, “Are you here to study or…?”

That was a great question, why was he here to begin with? Was he here to study for an exam? Was he here to apologize for the argument? Was he here… for you?

He simply shook his head and muttered, “No.” You continued staring at him as he stepped closer to you. He brought his hand up to the side of your face and tucked some strands of hair behind your ear.

His touch made your body tense due to the shock. He glanced down at your lips before meeting your eyes once again. He closed the space between the two of you and kissed you.

You kissed back, your eyes fluttering close as you placed your hands on his chest. Your heart pounded faster than usual as his tongue brushed against yours. Your body was humming. You melted in his embrace and let your fingers trace patterns into his wet shirt.

This was the best feeling you ever experienced in your life. Every fiber of your body was telling you to stay right there, kissing him. You figured he was here to just study or anything else, just not this.

You pulled away and looked into his eyes. “Y/N,” he husked. Your eyebrows raised as you anticipated what he would say next. “I need you.” He needed you? This stunned you even more. “Can I please treat you like you’re mine tonight?”

The way he said those words sent a thrill through you and ignited a fire inside of you. Without saying a word, you nodded your head as you stepped back toward your bed. You sat down on the mattress and looked up at him. The dim lighting created shadows across his face which made him look angelic.

With a smirk on his face, he sat next to you on the bed and pulled you close. He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist and peppered kisses on your neck.

His hands trailed from your hips to up underneath your shirt. A small gasp escaped your lips as his cold hands came into contact with your warm skin. His mouth returned to yours, his hands cupping your breasts that were still covered by your bra.

You let a small moan slip as the kiss went on and on, deepening. It almost hurt how much you craved his touch and how badly you wanted him. The only reason he didn’t get a reaction out of you is because you were trying to keep calm, but it seemed he could sense your desire and knew what he was doing to you.

You tugged off your shirt and tossed it to the floor. Luca leaned back a bit and gazed at your body. The moonlight hits your skin perfectly making it shine and glisten. He ran his thumb along the curve of your waist, his fingertips grazing across your hip bone.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he whispered as he threw off his own shirt. All of this was happening while your parents were downstairs. You felt nervous that they could hear you right now, or that they would hear you soon.

You turned your body to face him. He stared back with hooded eyes. The moonlight illuminated his handsome features in an ethereal light. Your breathing quickened with every passing second.

He teased at the strap of your shorts which was his signal for you to take them off. You did exactly that and revealed your matching pair of panties.

Luca groaned as his colored eyes examined your exposed body. You both stopped moving as he stared up at you. “Are you on the pill?” he asked softly.

Holy shit. He wanted to actually have sex with you. It was such an abrupt realization. It took you a minute to process. “Of course, I am,” you replied with a sigh.

He nodded his head, his eyes trailing down your body. “Okay, good.” He looked back into your eyes before messing with the buckle of his belt. “Take them off,” he said as he shot a glance down at your panties.

You slowly slid them off just like he said to. He nodded his head with a smirk spread on his face. “Good girl,” he rasped. “Now lay down.”

He got up from his spot on the bed which left you more room to lay. Once you settled down, he stood in front of you with a mischievous grin. He took off his boxers revealing his large erection. “Fuck,” you muttered as your eyes widened.

He ignored your comment and grabbed your waist. He pulled you closer to him before aligning himself with your entrance. You looked up at the ceiling, your breaths shallow and quick.

You felt nervous. What if you ended up getting pregnant? What if you sounded weird when you moaned? What if you got caught? Your thoughts were interrupted by him inserting himself inside of you.

Your breath hitched as your back slightly arched. His movements were gentle. He pulled out of you a little before thrusting back in with one powerful motion. Your back arched again, but you relaxed as you realized what it was like. He began to move in and out of you at a steady pace, filling you completely. You felt so full and comfortable, it felt amazing.

You closed your eyes and breathed deeply as you allowed him to take care of you, to take care of you for once. Quiet moans slipped from your parted lips as he thrusted into you.

He was slow and gentle, obviously treating you like you were delicate. You could even hear him groan out of pleasure. You bit your bottom lip as you looked up at him. His eyes met yours, both of you were panting. It felt good. You weren’t complaining, in fact, you loved it.

Luca began to speed up his movement as you both came together. He moaned as he held you tighter. “Fuck, Y/N. I’m gonna cum,” he groaned as he kept a steady pace.

He pumped in time with his thrusts. As he climaxed, you moaned as you came too. Once you finished, you laid there as he pulled out. You heard a loud noise coming from downstairs as you both tried to catch your breath after that unraveled in under one hour.

“Uh,” you said as you sprung up. “You need to leave, now!” You then heard your mom yelled out your name from downstairs. “Uh, coming!” you shouted back as you got up. You threw on your pajamas as Luca threw on his clothes.

“That was fun,” he smirked. “I should come over for more than just study sessions.”

You would’ve been flustered by that comment, but you were too worried about not getting caught. “Yeah, yeah! Go!” You threw your shirt on and watched as he threw on his own.

He winked as he hopped out of your window and looked back. “One more kiss?” he asked.

You sighed, “Yeah.” You placed a long, lingering kiss on his lips before pulling away. “Now leave!”

He chuckled, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smiled softly as you shut the window and quickly rushed out of your room. You just had sex with Luca Fantilli. Holy, shit. He did need you!

[adastra-rising]

Adding Onto this, I’m thinking of working on this as an AU/fanfic. I’ve drawn a concept sketch for the kid, (unfortunately, I don’t really like it) her name is Marcee Mayvelle (Aliteration!) and she’s like 9. If she was ever officially adopted, she’d take on the name Mayvelle Tsurugi. (Because I refuse to believe Felix would pass on the Fathom surname. That shit DIES with him.)

Name Notes: I chose the name “Marcee” (pronounced like Marcy) because it’s not something I could see Felix or Kagami choosing for their own child. Most Fankids I see for them have fancy rich-kid British names or Japanese names. I think it’s really important for this AU that Marcee is not the kind of kid they would have through normal means. In terms of name, interests, appearance, etc.

The ✨Found Family✨ of it all feels stronger to me if it’s not someone who’s necessarily just like them. What brought them together was not fate but circumstances!

- A victim of child neglect rather than what Felix or Kagami went through. She was never really forced into behaving a specific way or meeting expectations, because her parents were literally not present.

- They stopped driving her to school and everything. So she is a year or so behind in education.

- She pretty much raised herself. Outwardly, she appears immature and naive, but is definitely aware of a lot more than she lets on.

- Ryuko and Argos busted her parents after Argos picked up on Marcee’s negative emotions after her parents got into a fight. They called CPS but Marcee refused to leave Ryuko’s side, eventually the two of them let her stay over their place in Lieu of foster care. The rest is history.

- She never really got a chance to do much as a kid and IMMEDIATELY latches onto Kagami’s fencing (“While you were having a normal childhood, I WAS STUDYING THE BLADE.”) and becomes obsessed with it.

F: Is it reasonable to give a 9 year old a sword?

K: Yes. I got one when I was 7.

- The entire reason why she got so attached to Ryuko was the cool looking sword. “The cool sword lady will protect me, I am safe.” (Kagami is not used to being admired like this, by anyone other than Felix)

M: I LOVE COOL SWORD LADIES!!!

F: Understandable, I also love cool sword ladies.

- Marcee’s initial impression of Argos is a bit more… mixed, at first she thinks his eyes are a little bit scary but then she realizes that if she gets the scary bird man to like her, nobody will hurt her because the scary bird man will scare the bad people away. (11/10 logic. Her plan is successful!)

- Then she realizes that Felix is kind of a loser and that’s when she really comes to like him. She thinks he’s awkward af but super funny because of it.

- Rather than being known as an adopted daughter, Marcee is technically just Kagami’s fencing protege. (This is also what Kagami tells herself when she starts to get attached: “She’s just my student I won’t get attached. I will not get attached. I won’t.”)

- She’s not good at fencing but she’s got the spirit! After a few years, her efforts do pay off and by the time she’s a teenager she’s pretty much kicking everyone’s ass because Marcee was really persistent and Kagami never gave up on her!

- Marcee is a little bit of an IPAD kid but can you blame her? She had nowhere to go as a kid (sorta like Adrien) and had to make her own fun.

- She has an emotional dependence on Roblox and Minecraft Pocket Edition and knew she had found her family when Felix (in an attempt to show that he cares about her interests, because his father never cared about his) downloads her favorite games and tries to make her a Minecraft House. It was literally just a square made out of dirt.

- (In which a Minecraft house made of dirt is symbolic of letting a lonely abused kid know they are safe and at home!)

- Duusu and Longg realize she’s here to stay way before Kagami or Felix do. They’re both in denial, meanwhile Duusu and Longg are just like “yeah hell nahhh”

- Duusu and Marcee cannot be left alone in a room together or else someone might die. Chaotic ass duo. Longg is usually the one to babysit the two of them.

Feligami Brainrot at 6:30 am (Have not Slept)

Whenever I see art/descriptions of adult/married Feligami, they are either happily childless or have like three kids.

Generally speaking, I think it’s more canon compliant for them to not give a crap about having a nuclear family, and just focus on spending time together.

But I also want to suggest:

✨Found Family Feligami✨

Like to me the only way I could EVER see them starting a family is if they were out on patrol one day as Argos and Ryuko, and just randomly found a lost, scared, ab*sed kid and sorta just claimed them? Probably like an older kid too, at least 6. And they’d never have any other kids it would just be the one.

Like at first they just wanted to get the kid out of their toxic household and neither intended to get attached, but they totally do. Now it’s too late and suddenly they’re parents. Like the kid prolly doesn’t address them as mom or dad but they’re totally family now!

Meanwhile the kid, who’s prolly never felt safe at home, is finally able to sleep peacefully at night because they know if anyone tried to hurt them, both of their new guardians are superheroes! And even without powers, Kagami would prolly still manage to beat the crap outta anyone who came near them! Truly, there is no safer place!

I feel like both Felix and Kagami would struggle to adjust, but they’re both trying really hard! Felix especially is prolly a very…. Awkward parent in the sense that he is just. PROFOUNDLY ANXIOUS. All of the time. Bro wants the kid to be happy but doesn’t exactly have any normal childhood memories to use as reference and tries to connect with the kid using the stuff he grew up with, and quickly realizes the shit he was interested as a kid are not common at all.

“Would you, uhm, like to play a round of chess?”

“No, but I’d love to play monopoly jr: Disney edition!!”

“?????”

Meanwhile Kagami doesn’t register that they’re starting to act like a family, that she truly wants to protect this kid, and tries to convince herself they are merely a roommate or guest until Marinette shows up one day and haphazardly comments that Kagami is such a kind and considerate parent and she’s just like?????

[corvid-blues]

YOOO EPIC THE MUSICAL x LIFE SERIES AU THINGGG

this post is made specifically for @patches4thechaos no one else (/j)

It’s kind of (???) like a masterpost of this AU, but like badly structured and I haven’t made good reference sheets just some color palettes next to some ok drawings I suppose (I am very much going to redraw them just not soon maybe idk) SO UH HERE ROLES AND WHY I PICKED THEM

Odysseus - Joel

Notes - Idk he was the only one I could safely use because he ACTUALLY HAS A WIFE. Also it’s fun to be different. Though using him as Zeus is also like really fitting. Oh well. You get all the trauma Joel.

Penelope - Lizzie

Notes - I’m sorry Lizzie you’re cool and badass but unfortunately you’re also Joel’s wife and Pen is Ody’s wife. I do like to dream you videotape him killing all the sutiors though.

Telemachus - Hermes 

Notes - I literally have no idea who this guy is except he’s vaguely bird-like from fandom perception and also Joel’s son. But he fits the son role pretty well from what I see. (He’s in Empires btw)

Eurylochus - Martyn

Notes - Bro needs more main roles- Like he’s the least popular Life Series winner (which isn’t a low bar all of them are like super popular) but honestly I made Ren Polities and was like “Welp the only only valid option for Eurylochus is Martyn” and rolled with it.

Polities - Ren

Notes - Ren is a happy-go-lucky joyous boy and I think more people need to recognize that like bro is walking through life confused af but dam happy about it I’ll tell you. Everyone is like “Red King angst angst angst” like he has no idea what’s going on at all times.

Polyphemus - Bdubs

Bdubs is the only viable option for Polyphemus like animal-obsessed and murderous? Who else? Also he has a giant horse demon.

Aeolus - Skizz

Notes - He seems the popular choice, and his goofy demeanor and angelic fandom traits really show why. I have a really vivid mental image of his giant angelic form flapping its wings and pushing the ships with giant gusts of wind. It’s my second favorite moment in all of this.

Circe - Gem

Notes - Actually, I can’t take credit for this one, I saw someone with a different EPIC AU who put her as Circe and using skulk instead of seduction in There Are Other Ways and I was like “GENIUS” and stole it. She fits pretty well.

Hermes - Scar

No other viable option. Especially the fandom meme of Hermes selling drugs to Odysseus, seems like something Scar would do. Also the fun beat and Hermes’s other song “Dangerous” is definitely his vibe like seriously.

Tiresias - Grian

Notes - I have so much unnecessary angsty lore that has nothing to do with actual Tiresias like he was barely twenty when he died but grew up in the underworld, he was forced into being a preist to the Secret Keeper (watcher robes and stuff) and is familiar with a lot of the gods because he’s a prophet. I also have a bunch of desert duo shit (obviously). 

Siren - BigB

Notes - Honestly an arbitrary choice, but my main inspiration was Double Life and how he “pretended” to be Grian’s soulmate. Like, this is a completely different situation but like same concept. Ha you fuck up big time B.

Scylla - Pearl

Notes - Look the giant serpent heads are Pearl’s wolf pack Joel’s head is illuminated but the blood moon reflected in the water before they dock and walk through a dark cave and like his face is bathed in the blood of the moon and in the end the blood of his comrades THE SYMBOLISM. The “drown in your sorrow and tears” LIKE DOUBLE LIFE YALL I CANT.

Antinous - idk honestly

Notes - HE’S EVIL AND A JERK IDK

Calypso - Iskall

Notes - Yoooo our one of our only non-lifers- I guess he doesn’t really count for a Life Series AU but like he was too perfect Calypso being like “Noooo why are you breaking up with me” and Odysseus being like “WE WERE NEVER TOGETHER” real Iskall and Joel coded relationship.

Zeus - The Secret Keeper 

Notes - The only problem with this one is Thunder Bringer because he seems a lot more like just a guy there (an all powerful jerk guy but that’s besides the point) and less like an omnipotent divine deity which is what I was going for with the Secret Keeper in the Horse and the Infant and God Games.

Athena - Cleo

Notes - I saw her sometimes depicted with snake hair like Medusa and ya know Athena turned Medusa into a gorgon so I thought “Hey what if Cleo was Athena and her hair turned into snakes when she’s angry” like in My Goodbye and the “hold your tongue” scene in God Games. I gave her dreads so it’s a smoother transition.

Poseidon - Etho

Notes - Another arbitrary choice! I must blame this on my Ethubs brain like this AU is actually mostly based on Last Life (or at least the relationships) so like red life Bdubs being almost killed by Joel would really piss him off. But also in Limited Life Bdubs is technically Etho’s son so you could take it as that. (Sorry Boat Boys shippers I actually really considered putting him as Calypso)

Apollo - Jimmy

Notes - Now we’re getting into the really arbitrary choices. This was mostly a color match, and Jimmy seems like the kind of guy to own a bunch of cows and throw a hissy fit when one of them is killed. 

Hephaestus - Tango

Notes - Actually, I had Tango for Hephaestus in my head for a while. Idk he just has inventor vibes that would very obviously be angry at Joel’s basically sacrifice of his entire crew.

Aphrodite - Scott

Notes - This was mostly an excuse so I could put Scott in like flowy beautiful clothing also he seems like the kind of guy to be the god of love like bro is very gay.

Ares - Impluse

Notes - I… have no good reasoning for this. Impulse in my head is actually one of the chillest of all the Lifers but he seems like he could get very scary if he was ever actually angry.

Hera - Mumbo

Notes - And here we are, the winner of all the arbitrary choices I made for this AU. Man. Idk he had that one hipster outfit and Hera gives off very 80’s hipster vibes. Maybe that’s what he’ll wear. Huh. This only came to mind like now

This was all supposed to be meant for just me so if it’s confusing then uh sorry

Bam the ok references I have you didn’t expect me to have every character did you naw I’m too lazy for that

Don’t mind the terribly scribbled notes on any of them either pfft um

a couple doodles (Scar cameo lol) (click for full image on the second one)

Looking back on it I made those references MONTHS ago Ren’s cape looks so goofy

Less of a Life Series AU and more of a Hermit-Life-Empires AU um IM STILL CALLING AND TAGGING IT EPIC THE MUSICAL x LIFE SERIES THO

And I swear if you make any fanart tag me or I will hunt you down (/lh) (Probably not gonna be fanart but JUST IN CASE)

[gallafics]

𝙶𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚌'𝚜 𝚁𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠

Title: Paragraphs

Author: @palepinkgoat (Ao3)

Rating: Explicit Series: —

Chapters: 14/14 Word Count: 100.1 k

Archive Warnings: Warnings Not Used

Favorite Character: Its hard to not say Ian and Mickey because they’re both so amazing in this fic and they’re really the main focus—however I do really love a little side character named Rex and Lip is pretty cool in this one too! And I can’t forget Bill!

Least Favorite Character: Terry and he’s not even actively in this one but he’s definitely still my least favorite oh and Ian’s ex-boss, not a cool guy.

Ao3 Summary: Ian has an opportunity to be a reading tutor for ex-convicts. He meets one in particular that catches his eye. What begins as an attraction becomes more complicated with the weight of the past.

Spoiler Free Review: I ate this fic up in less than two days, when I tell you I’m obsessed…every now and then a fic comes along and you start reading and you just know it’s like this fic is now apart of your soul. I love it. It now has a permanent place on my comfort fic list. This is a different first meeting AU. There’s so much sweetness and fluff but be prepared and take care of yourself as this fic also deals with some heavier topics as well and the author does a great job at leaving notes about which chapter have the heavier themes. This fic is an amazing read, I highly suggest it, just know you’ll be adding it to your re-read list because it’s amazing!

Spoilers Below↓

Favorite Moment(s):

Ian and Mickeys entire first encounter.

Rex is honestly so funny, one of my fav side character in a fic!

“What’s complicated about getting your dick wet?” Rex squints at the numbers on the shelf. “You didn’t see him looking at you like you were a whole meal.”

Protective Mickey my beloved

“My stomach’s kind of messed up from getting punched,” Ian snaps. Mickey’s voice is rough. “You punched him? What the fuck for?” “He just startled me. It was a reflex.” “Blinking is a reflex. You don’t just punch someone in the stomach just because they surprise you.” Mickey stands up.

There’s the sweetest moment of Ian helping Mickey with reading and Mickey helping Ian with math!

Protective Mickey my beloved…again!

Ian shifts in his seat. “I guess,” he says. “I don’t know. I just had this weird run-in with this guy at the laundromat and then—” “What guy? What’d he do?” Mickey’s voice gets deeper. “He,” Ian says, and he takes a deep breath. “He recognized me. From when I worked at The Fairy Tail. And it was weird. So somehow I decided this was the next place on my list.” Mickey’s voice is small. “So you came to see me?” Ian doesn’t look away. “I think I did,” he says. His voice is clear. He means it. Mickey swipes his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

This part from Ian telling Mickey about his past!!

“You've been through a lot,” Mickey says, fingers wandering toward Ian’s palm. Ian realizes he’s been holding tight to the crumpled napkin. Mickey slowly pries the napkin from his hand and tosses it aside. Mickey’s hand slides so slowly into his that he can barely breathe.

I don’t know what to say about this one…I just love slutty gallavich

Ian presses him close. Harder. Tighter. “I bet you take it so good,” Ian whispers. Mickey’s mouth is slack, his eyes closed. “Yeah.” Ian cups his ass. God. His voice shakes. “Can you feel how big I am?” Mickey is panting, chest heaving against his. “So fucking big.” Ian lets Mickey’s tongue sweep into his mouth lazily, blissed out. Mickey’s eyes open slowly. “How big are you?” “Nine,” Ian whispers. Mickey moans, “Jesus fucking Christ.” “Too big?” Ian hopes not. It has been, before. Mickey shakes his head slowly. “That’s fucking perfect.”

I could literally list to so many moments in this fic but I’m begging you to just read it. You seriously will not be disappointed!!! Their first kiss, their first time being intimate, the first time they sleep together, all the moments in between and the journey that leads them through all of those phases!

Favorite Quote(s):

“You’re not.” Ian shakes his head. “This is only a chapter in your life. No. Wait. A chapter is too long. This is a paragraph.” “A paragraph?” “Yeah.” “The fuck’s a paragraph?” Ian stands up and hefts up his laundry, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. “I’ll show you tomorrow.”

“Come on, man. The only excitement in my life is my mom making me kielbasa and pierogies three times a week.” Ian tilts his head. “Three times a week? That seems like two times too many.” “Says you. You’ve never had my mom’s cooking.”

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” Ian whispers against his lips. Mickey’s breath comes fast, but their lips stay slack and soft. “The taste of you.”

“Fuck, you’re so good to me. So patient. I want you, Mick.” “You got me.”

“Loved you a while,” Mickey says quietly, rising from the table. A small, almost embarrassed shrug. “Just didn’t know how to say it.”

Final thoughts: Ian and Mickey’s chemistry are written so well from the beginning. I felt it in that first moment they met, like little sparkles tingling in the air even if it was brief and not anything special. I also love when Ian is written having a good relationship with Lip and this fic definitely has them written so well together! Also having Mickey struggle with reading not just because he can’t but because he has a learning disability—as a fellow dyslexic I appreciate the representation. Then the call back to the show with Mickey being good at math! I love how they’re able to help each other with the things they struggle with.

Also the story telling around the issues Ian and Mickey both are dealing with is spectacular, they are both dealing with such complex traumas and it’s written in a way that you can really feel their emotions about it. There’s some small moments of angst, a whole lot of fluff and love and some of the hottest smut. It goes without saying I’m a huge fan of this fic, give it a read and I promise you’ll enjoy it. If you’ve already read it let’s squeal about it together!!

Thank you so much, pink_ink , for blessing us with this fic!!

— Harley, Gallafics Reviews

[airbendertendou]

OBSESSED! ♥︎ ran haitani

synopsis : ran is really just so obsessed with you. one day, you decide to call him out on it.

bonten!ran , stripper!reader , this is so short im sorry </3

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

He was here again. Watching you closely, half-lidded eyes following every move you made. Letting out a sigh, the bartender looks from the man to you, eyebrows furrowing in concern. “You want me to call security?”

“It’s okay,” you shrug it off. A regular says their goodbyes as they leave and you wave, hand leaving your drink as you do. You glance to him — he’s still watching you, eyeing you over the rim of his own drink. “He hasn’t really done anything harmful.”

Your co-worker huffs, scrubbing at a stain on the bar with extra strength. “Staring is creepy, though.”

“Lots of creeps in here, then,” you grin her way. She nods in agreement, her laugh flowing up and surrounding the silence. Another dancer is called and you bite your lip — you’d have to go up after. “Actually, I have an idea.”

A familiar beat hits the walls of the club as you wait for the lights to hit you. Wearing your new set, you walk idly around the pole, letting the music control you. His gaze hits heavy as he focuses solely on you and the way you move. You roll your hips, mouthing along to the words as you look his way, making sure he knew this was for him.

All too soon, the song comes to an end as you pose. The bartender is cackling, clapping her hands as squeaks escape her mouth. “That was so good! He was so pink ; literally had to leave not even a second ago!”

You grin again, “serves him right.” Glancing at the clock, you hum and debate on if you want to go home or not. It’s late and the club has come to an idle, calm standstill. You doubt anyone else will be showing up. “I’ll be heading out soon. Get home safe.”

“You, too!”

An oversized hoodie is thrown over your lingerie set, sweatpants comfortable against your waist as you make your way outside. And there he is, leaning against your car as he smokes a cigarette. A pink flush is still lingering on his cheeks as he watches you once more, eyebrows raising at your new attire.

“[Name].” You walk to your car slowly, eyeing him almost apprehensively. He rolls his eyes, “you have to stop letting the other workers assume I’m some kind of creep.”

“Are you not?” You ask teasingly. Ran rolls his eyes, flicking his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out. Giddily, you make your way into his open arms. “I mean, you’re here almost every night! Lurking… watching… just me, by the way. No other dancers.”

“Why would I look at anyone else?” Ran murmurs softly. He brings you closer, one hand settled on your hip as the left one cups your face lovingly. “You’re the prettiest one here. And, wearing my favorite color tonight?” He tsks lightly, nipping at your jawline, “lookin’ for trouble.”

You hum, arms slinging around his neck as you bring him closer. Kissing his ear, then his cheek, you smile boldly. “Might be. What’re you gonna do about it?”

Ran’s chuckle hits your neck as he bites again, leaving a trail of kisses as he raises up from his hunched over form. He plants another kiss on your forehead — then each eyelid — before meeting your gaze. “Anything you want me to.”

——♥︎—— heres a small thing while i try to finish these soulmate au's <3 airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

[blurglesmurfklaine]

you seem really odd and your blog intrigues me, do you want to tell me more about Alicia, Buck's daughter, in texas!buddie au? pretty please?

HELLOOOOHOHOHOOOOOOOOOOO

You too seem really odd and your blog intrigues ME! Of COURSE I will tell you more about Alicia and Texas!Buddie this is a literal dream come true skndkskdkdn

You’ve opened a can of worms so I cannot be held responsible for the yapping that ensues ❤️

Alicia is 6 when she is sent to live with Buck

She was born in San Antonio Texas, where her mom and grandparents migrated to before she was born

She is the spitting image of Buck. She’s got his smile, his nose—even has a birthmark to match his—except she’s got dark hair and dark eyes. I am obsessed with the idea of Maddie doubting that this kid is even her baby brother’s up until the moment she sees her and then she’s like ���

Alicia is fluent in both Spanish and English. Truly a bilingual queen

She definitely prefers Spanish, though, and the first time Eddie meets her she is incredibly shy about it, and then Buck whispers something to Alicia in Spanish, which Eddie hears and is like “Oh worm?” And starts talking to her in Spanish and of course she’s immediately obsessed with him

Her favorite show is Bluey, her favorite movie is The Lion King

She wants to be a Paletera when she grows up, because paletas make people happy and she wants to make people happy

This isn’t necessarily about Alicia, but I’m obsessed with the idea of her grandparents HAAAAATING Buck. Even though Buck is like. The absolute best to them and Alicia—they just can’t get past Buck being the gringo who knocked up their baby girl and then ran away back to America

Until they meet Buck’s actual parents and then they both decide “Hm. You know what? Actually fuck them, you’re ours now” and Buck is so weirded out but ultimately thinks it’s sweet

I think it would be fun if Eddie somehow orchestrates the meeting of the Buckleys and Alicia’s parents lol just so he can show them that Buck has enough asshole parents in his life

Scenarios?? You want scenarios??? I GOT Scenarios (TM) just you WAIT BABEYYYY

So this one has been rattling around my brain for a while. Chris is 16, Buck and Eddie have been married for years at this point and Chris BEGS Buck and Eddie to teach him how to drive. And Eddie of course is so soooo wary about it because it’s Christopher, that’s his son. And he never wants to discourage his kid but with his disability there are some things that are just more dangerous for him to do

But of course, they both cave—Bucks does copious amounts of research, they make the necessary adjustments, get any accommodations and modifications needed. It takes a long while, but Chris gets his license! Yay! He can drive! With limitations of course. Only with a parent in the passenger seat, and with prior approval.

It would ideal (for me. The whump bitch) if maybe Chris got into an argument with Buck and Eddie before this whole next part. Because I said so ❤️ but basically they tell him he’s not allowed to go somewhere (maybe a party??) because both of them have to work and can’t drop him off and he’s like “I can drive myself!” and they’re like the fuck you can! Besides, he’s been begging them for more responsibility, so he offered to watch Alicia.

Alicia, in an attempt to cheer her brother up, talks him into taking her to see the latest paw patrol movie “And maybe we can even stop by that girl’s party afterward!” And Chris is pissed at his dads and sold

Meanwhile, back at the 126, things are relatively easy. Until they get a call for FD at a two car collision just off the highway. One vic is stuck behind the wheel of the car. Other car has two vics, both minors. One male teen, female child in the passenger seat

As they arrive in the scene, Buck starts venting to Eddie because “What the hell kind of parent is letting their little girl in the front seat of a car. Don’t they know that those airbags are death traps for kids?”

“Buck—”

“I’m just saying. Someone should talk to those parents, if this kid makes it out of here.”

“Buck.”

And finally Buck stops, grounded by Eddie squaring his shoulders and pointing him to the wreckage.

That’s their car.

The exact make and model and Buck doesn’t believe in god but he starts praying anyway as he and Eddie sprint to the car, that the license plate isn’t theirs.

It is. That’s their daughter in the passenger seat, bleeding and unconscious. That’s his kid behind the wheel, fighting against the firefighters trying to get him out of there, screaming for his sister. And then he’s looking at Buck, and his face just crumples.

And he collapses into Buck’s arms, a wet mess of sobs and apologies and Eddie is pulling Alicia’s body out of the passenger seat and checking her vitals and performing rescue breaths on her and Christopher is asking “What’s going on, what’s happening, what are they doing with her?” And Buck just holds him so Chris doesn’t have to watch

Anyway. I just think that would be really neat!

[kitschysandglass]

Justice Lords AU Jon/Damian Drabble

Lord! Jon / The Demon’s Head! Damian

Prompt: Faked Relationships + Arranged Marriage

So a friend give me this prompt and urged me to write this. Started as a drabble then some how ends in a short fic. 

Might post the whole thing on AO3 once finished. It’s a pure fluff crack fic. If I can write romance comedy in Superlords AU I can do anything.

+Based on JLU animation setting. I refuse to acknowledge the comic sequel in JL beyond

Enjoy!

 +++

 “I need you to marry me.”

By this, the Kryptonian nearly toppled and fell from where he was floating in midair, if that was something could be done.

“What?!” he squeaked, absolutely dumbfounded.

“Well, not marry me, to be exact,” the Demon’s Head waved a hand in a very much dismissive way, as if they were just talking about weather, “An engagement, more like it.”

Gawking, the young lord Jon-El, son of the supreme Lord Superman, watched his best friend, former mentor and the current leader of League of Assassins, Damian al Ghul, with sheer amount of disbelief.

He had known there was something in Damian’s mind the second he dropped by in the courtyard of Narda Parbat base, as his friend had not even complained when being pulled into a suffocatingly tight embrace, rather been eyeing him with a wistful silence - which was why Jon had offered a short flight, and ended it by stopping at their favorite spot on the mountainside, for a sparring session or whatever Damian felt like.

He had not expect that ‘something’ to be this, however.

“Where did that even come from?” Jon furrowed incredulously, hovering closer to the older male.

Damian’s lips pressed into a thin line, the corners of his mouth slightly tilted down in dismay. Jon noticed that he was putting on his I-have-a-favor-to-ask-but-I’m-the-Demon’s-Head-so-I-only-order-people-around face.“Mother has been pestering me with the topic of marriage and suitable consorts, again, lately.”

Jon blinked. Sometimes he really couldn’t understand what was with Talia’s temporary obsession about her son’s non-exist marital status, considering herself had never married, at least not formally, but - “Oh, okay, it’s not something hard to solve though. I can just —”

“You’re not going to kill another daughter or son of some significant political figure just because I said ‘they annoyed me so’, or lobotomize them,” Damian cut off curtly, voice cold and harsh, “Mother was quite upset the last time you’ve done this. We’ve spent months to neutralize the consequences, and I don’t think your father appreciated it very much either.”

“Dad doesn’t appreciate a lot of things.”

Damian sighed, ignoring his quip. “And you’re not going to kill mother,” he paused, before adding another warning, “As well as your father. We’ve been over this before.”

Jon deflated, then pouted like spoiled child. “Fine. It’s not like I hate aunt Tal, you know, just the option’s open at anytime.”

“Yes, Jon, I have no doubts that you’d do anything for me,” said Damian dryly, arm crossed, with barely a nick of sarcasm, “Which is why pretending to be my betrothal should at least be one of them.”

It was true, and they both knew it by hearts. The young Kryptonian would do literally everything and anything in his power, or die tried beyond his power to fulfill what Damian al Ghul had wished for; whether it was a country, the world, or stars and moon – he would bring them all down and offered before the Demon’s Head’s throne, with simply a word rolling off the other man’s tongue.

But it did not mean he would waste a chance to haggle.

“Um, yep. I just can’t figure out how and when did I come into the scheme.”

Damian’s shoulder tensed, yet eased down within seconds once more, and begrudgingly he started, “Well, in hope of ending this kind of conversations once and for all, I’ve may or may not told mother that I’m already betrothed to someone on my own behalf.”

Dead silence suddenly hanged down between the two of them, until Jon spoke softly, in the end.

“Dami, it hurt me to say this, but sometimes you’re really stupid,” he said in the most earnest and genuine voice.

The Demon’s Head resumed talking without a comment, only tapped one finger on the hilt of the Kryptonite dagger, sheathed at the side of his belt, displaying a clear attitude. “And I would like to make sure we’re both aware of the... detailed information about this relationship, since we’ll finally inform mother our engagement at dinner tonight, and she might have the curiosity for further inquiries.”

“Right. Sure, even though I still haven’t agreed on a single part here, but go on.” Jon chirped in a deliberately sickening sweet tone.

This earned him a threatening glare, which Jon blew out a raspberry in return, then floated even higher. Damian could not actually be angry with him when nothing had happened, moreover, when he was the one who had a favor to ask. True to the belief, his sole response was a familiar tutting sound, and the emerald eyes moved away to gaze at the mountains afar. After another minute of peaceful quietness, Damian eventually spoke and dropping the bombshell. “For your reference, we’ve been secretly engaged for several years by now.”

“Whoa, we have?”

Without batting an eye, Damian continued in an uncannily even and nonchalant tone. “To be more specific, we had confessed and exchanged our vows when you were nineteen. The year you paid a visit when I was in Europe, and we spent the summer together.”

“Oh Rao I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” Jon muttered under his breath. Just then he stilled, eyes widened, head perked up, and a dawning realization struck like a lighting, “Wait, is that one time you almost fell off from the Eiffel Tower?”

“Yes, that one time you almost dropped me off from the Eiffel Tower,” Damian spat, “But also no, it should be later, in Greece.”

“Parthenon?”

“Parthenon.”

“Was it before or after the accident that we nearly set it on fire? You know, together, by mistake, and somehow my fault was not in the larger proportion there.”

At last, the unwavering mask of indifference was cracked by the recollection of that particular incident. Damian winced. He opened his mouth while in search of a comeback, or any evidence for correction in details. There was none, and the only option he left was grunting like an ill-tempered cat.

“After that, possibly,” he mumbled through gritted teeth.

“Must be quite romantic then, I can imagine,” said the young lord in a sing-song voice, beaming with satisfaction.

Damian huffed with a sneer inside. “Indeed, everything seems extremely romantic after being at each other’s throat in a literal manner for the past thirty minutes.”

“I didn’t start that. I was just messing around with you.”

“If by ‘messing around’ you mean as ‘practicing homicide’.”

“Well it’s not me who thought it was a great idea to—” he feigned a surprised yelp when being suddenly dragged down by his cape. Did Jon see that coming? Of course. Could he dodge it? No problem. He could even stay still like a solid concrete and start a tug-of-war in air, but then Damian’s embarrassment might turn into true enragement. Thus he chose to offer the cheekiest smile to those blazing green eyes, now on horizontal level with and an inch too close, “’right, sorry, please do continue.”

Those eyes scrutinized his face for a while longer, before Damian’s own expression softened. He loosened the grip, yet refrained from completely let go of the silky white fabric, still holding it gently between his fingers. Following the subtle cue, Jon set feet to the ground and straightened up a little, as though being anchored by the hand that pulled him down.

“That makes the anniversary of our engagement on the 23rd of July,” and so Damian returned to the previous topic while thoroughly disregarding the small interlude, “Which is why we generally spent summer together since then.”

“Is it? Wait, we’re not actually engaged in the past few years, right? Are we?” Damian just stared at him, unimpressed by the display of idiocy.

“I assure you, we aren’t,” he then released the cape, “However, half a truth often makes up a great lie, and it works perfectly in this case.”

“And I thought we pretty much spent every summer together.”

“We didn’t. Not since you went back with your father when you were twelve,” Jon grimaced at that reminder, “Truthfully, I never know what’s your excuse whenever you disappeared for at least a whole month.”

The Kryptonian snorted.

“Dad doesn’t really care about what I’m doing as long as I’m not wrecking havoc to worsen his migranine. That is, since the whole Elite incident years ago,” he then paused for a few hesitant seconds. Jon-El slightly tilted head to met with the other’s eyes, as he was levitating on tip-toes in subconscious once again, “I have no quarrel with pretending to be your ‘betrothal’ or whatever, D, though clearly it’s one of your dumbest idea. But hey! Sounds fun! And the story totally sells, on some levels. Just you know nothing’s gonna be merely ‘fake boyfriend’ trope when it comes to our families, right?”

“Might as well,” Damian hummed, and he dared to start the explanation shamelessly under his friend’s now confused gaze, “It’s obvious that the Justice Lords are reconsidering their current partnership with the League and Leviathan. I doubt mother is too happy about some ‘trivial disagreements’ in recent as well, and I don’t always see eye to eye with people on either side.”

Jon stared at him. Damian stared back. The pregnant silence stretched longer this time, until Jon gasped loudly, eyes wide with disbelief. He dashed so high up into the air before dived down again in an instant.

Damian cursed in Arabic while busily trying to dust off the snow now covering his hair and robe, caused by the rapid gush of wind. Jon paid him no mind.

“Wow. Okay. Hold on. I can’t believe you’ve just talked me into a political marriage,” he half-shrieked, half-spluttered into the other’s ears, “Is this actually your mom’s idea? Am I in the ‘suitable consorts’ list?! Didn’t aunt Tal remark on how I’m never going to be a ‘passable husband material’ last month when I told that story about Beacon?”

“I’m pretty sure she still holds the same opinion,” Damian grumbled with a wince on his face. He pushed him away for a little, in sake of the eardrums, “Look, it’s not like the wedding will happen anytime soon. We’re just going to make the contract part official.”

“Ugh,” Jon pulled a face, “Why? Why’re you doing this to me? You know how much I hate those political stuff and formal occasions, and I hate to start anything that’s closer to a serious conversation with dad or the other lords. Why? Did I do something wrong? Are you still mad about that research station I had accidentally blown off? Or is it because I refused to help you sneak into the Fortress last time? You know you’ve already been there plenty of times!”

A muscle jumped on the Demon’s jaw when a certain event was mentioned, yet the only reaction he let out in the end was a sigh. “I’m still mad about that research station you had accidentally blown off, but that’s not the reason.”

“And it’s not mother’s idea, either. To be honest, I don’t think she’ll be rejoiced to hear this arrangement. Doubtlessly she has other plans in mind,” reluctant as he was, seeing Jon was still watching him skeptically, Damian could only supplied with another confession, “If that makes you feel better, I didn’t consider much when the ‘secretly bethrothed’ thing blurted out. I’m merely turning an impulsive mistake into a tactical strategy.”

“And you think your mom’s gonna agree with this? Since now it’s clear that I’m not an optional son-in-law in her ‘mother’s choice’ edition.”

“That is, exactly the cause behind our romantic backstory. I know this sounds unreal, but given the past record of herself, mother actually has a soft spot when it comes to the heart’s cause,” for a second, Damian looked like he wanted to avert his gaze to elsewhere and took aback everything had happened. He continued nonetheless, “I have to admit, considering the talk of marriage will eventually come up sooner or later, it’s much better to know that we’re in this together.”

The young lord did not respond. He remained completely still, the tip of his shoes left shallow grazes on the snow since he was hovering a few inches apart from the ground. The only sound he made was the sound of the pale white cape billowing in wind.

Jon-El snapped out from whatever outer body experience he was going through when Damian gently laid a hand on to his shoulder. He looked down at the hand, then back to Damian’s face, back upon at the hand on his shoulder again, and abruptly retreated a huge step back. The sky blue eyes flared a tint of red for a fleeting moment, as he sent Damian a menacing look right before he took lift with a sonic boom. It was a “just-watch-me-leave-you-here-and-try-to find-a-way-down-on-your-own” look, which the al Ghul was entirely capable of, since he was nine. However, Damian knew better than wasting energy unnessarily on a self-solved problem.

He yawned, counting seconds in mind while watching the shadowcasts of cloud flowing through the rugged silhouette of the mountains.

It took around two minutes and fourty-seven seconds for that monotone and crimson blur to reappear in the edge of his sight. Jon soared back and landed in front of him, raven black hair in a wind-blown state, with a light frown on his face, and the rest was unreadable. He puffed, finally, shoulder slumped in compromise.

“Alright. Fine. But you better give me a very nice ring.”

“That can be arranged.” Damian smiled smugly, which replied by another eye-rolling.

“Dad’s gonna be so pissed, and aunt Kara too. Kon’ll probably find this overly hilarious,” Jon murmured. Unsurprisingly, that grumpy pout gradually dissipated through the muttering, instead a wicked grin starting to spread on his face, “Oh such delight, I can’t wait for this month’s family dinner. If I’m going to suffer, I’d better turn this into everyone else’s problem.”

“You’re a menace.” Damian scoffed, yet the fondness overweighted mockery in it.

Without a warning, Jon lunged forward, two steel-strong arms choked the other in a too tight hug. Damian’s hands almost instinctly flied to the hilt of the sword, only Jon had slackened the clutch too quick. He twirled his position to spoon Damian from behind, still floating aloft, and rest his chin on the center of the hair whorl. Damian growled, but did not try any effort to push him off.

“Still can’t believe you’re making me do this,” Jon complained aloud, “You owed me an Apokolips-scaled favor now, which means you’re forbid to get mad at me from now on.”

“I think that’s still in need for further negotiation,” Damian commented in a deadpan tone.

“Have you already prepared a prenuptial agreement?”

“Hmm.”

“What kind of answer is that?” Jon pinched his friend and soon-to-be betrothal on cheek (without really using any strength, of course). Damian grunted and let it be, but caught his wrist at the second attempt.

“I’m afraid your halcyon days are over, Lord Jon-El. Welcome to my life and put responsibility into your dictionary,” mocked by the Demon’s Head.

To this, Jon sighed exasperately and tightened his hold before Damian’s chest, then nuzzled even closer. Both of them were well past the point to be bothered by this cold, but warmth was always welcomed.

“Hate you,” said Jon, voice a little too cheerul.

“Hate you more,” replied Damian, a barely contained laugh in tone.

-END/TBC-

Other background settings on this AU:

So Superman and Lois are still Jon’s biological parents in this setting, but only on genetic level. Lord! Superman had tried everything in hope to make Lois stay with him back then, so he used Kryptonian technology to create a child from his lab, using his and modified Lois’ gene (probably from blood samples or sth.) and take the baby to meet Lois.

My impression to Lois is that she would likely to wait for a chanse to strike back rather than commit suicide when there’s no way out. She then took care of Jon in those imprisoned years, until Jon fell gravely ill due to his unstable DNA and Lord Superman took him to somewhere else for treatment, and Lois had finally escaped in that period of time.

After Lois’ escapement, among other situations, Kal-El was busy with his work and didn’t have the will to raise the child, therefore send him to LoA through Lord Batman’s introduction. Jon was 5-6 yro back then, he and Damian were still 3 yrs apart in this AU.

Talia had informed Batman about their child a lot ealier in this setting, and Damian was basically always raised in the League. Jon went back with his father reluctantly when he was 12. Their relationship was strange and distant rather than tensed. Kal-El sort of viewed this child as the final reminiscence of Lois, while Jon just, honestly didn’t care(...) On the other hand, although Lord Superman might have not too many moral compass, he valued his rules, but Jon’s just pure chaotic, didn’t really care abt anything whatsoever unless it involved Damian.

Lois was now in an anti-Lords organisation. Jon called her Ms. Lane and paid visit to chat occassionally, and constantly mocking his father’s pathetic love life.

Ra’s died or couldn’t use pit to regenerate anymore at somepoint, then Damian became the Demon’s Head.

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  Capriciously_Terminal! @capriciouslyterminal has 106 fics on ao3 in the Stranger Things fandom and 105 of them are in the Steddie tag!

@mustardyellowlilac recommends the following works by Capriciously_Terminal:

Where the Sun Can't Reach

Spit Me out, You Don't Know Where I've Been

It's the Ritual of the Thing

Baby I'm Your Man (Don't Fear the Reaper)

It's as if she writes memories, rather than stories, and that makes them tangible and devastating -- @mustardyellowlilac

Below the cut, @capriciouslyterminal answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I started writing Steddie because the characters of Steve and Eddie have such specific and human voices that I literally couldn’t get them out of my head after watching the first drop of S4. (Also I’d just gotten a new puppy who didn’t love sleeping through the night so I had plenty of time to think). The more I wrote for them the deeper I found myself in their voices and thinking about what they could do and I had to keep going until I ran out of steam.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I love a good “Steddie interwoven into previous seasons’ canon events” story. Especially if an author makes it SO specific. I want Steve and Eddie in Starcourt. I want Eddie Munson popping up at the pumpkin patch. I want Eddie Munson in the background at Starcourt drooling. I want him to spend this whole time watching Steve’s character growth and finding it impossibly hot before getting twisted up in the horror.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I definitely love adding Eddie Munson to canon (thinking about him and life-guard Steve Harrington is where this all began, afterall). However I think that I, as a person, am just as obsessed with The Horrors. As such adding monstrosity/new flavors of spooky to this show was my favorite thing to do.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I can narrow it down to two! My favorite piece of Steddie fic that changed my brain chemistry has got to be fastcardotmp3’s “that’s just wasteland, baby!” (https://archiveofourown.org/works/42351597) because the scene in the lake? The genuine wonderful take on in media res apocalypse living? Dot’s talent for characterization/love? I’ll never live it down. Actually, go read everything by fastcardotmp3. Do yourself a favor. The other has to be “every mistake was made purposefully” by birthdaycandles (https://archiveofourown.org/works/41795838/chapters/104862381). It turns out I’m a sucker for excellent narration and watching Steddie/plot shenanigans from Tommy Hagan’s prickly point of view. It gave me everything I’ve ever wanted.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I always wanted to write a When Harry Met Sally AU about Steve and Eddie meeting throughout their lives/development. I don’t know if I’ll ever pick it up again but it’s still there knocking at the back of my mind. I’ve also got like fifteen of the drabbles in i love you you dope with bits of continuation in my head too.

What is your writing process like?

In general, my writing is a very all or nothing process. It’s either going to go all day, through meals, and not stop until the idea is finished OR I’m going to be stalled completely. Generally, though, if I’m in my crazy inspired phase I’ll have an idea (specifically the beginning of something) and if that idea sticks in my head for more than a single day then I probably can’t leave it until it’s done. However, this did change with my writing i love you you dope. I decided to answer p0ck3tf0x's "100 Ways to Say I Love You" list one prompt at a time. Once a day. RIP. This led to a writing process which was more of a sit down after work and immediately write the first thing you could think of until it’s done kind of affair. I can’t recommend that style lol. It led to some pretty intense burnout by the end but I am proud of how many ideas came because of it. It showed that, through tenacity, most ideas could be something worth pursuing.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I can’t help but put first and second person pronouns in descriptions as if speaking to the reader and I’m a frequent and blatant tense shifter. It’s all over the place at times lol. I also LOVE a good stream of consciousness description, flitting from one image to another, which probably lead to these grammatical quirks and a shit ton of run-on sentences.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Before I started writing i love you you dope I very much preferred finishing my writing before I posted it. It took ages but nothing felt worse than having to leave something unfinished because I’d lost the plot (which has happened several times).  However, part of the draw of i love you you dope was that (as a challenge) I had to write and post daily. While I learned I can write on such a grueling schedule, I can safely say after finishing it that I prefer having the time to ensure something’s to my standards. Or, at least, until I’m tired of looking at it and just want other people to see it.

Which fic are you most proud of?

If we branch outside of my Steddie work it’s a fic for a little show called Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency that I think I’ll never top. A Road Song in Quartet that Smells like a Trio is basically my novel/brain-child about my favorite rowdy vampire boys and I have to shout it out everywhere I go. However, to stick to the Steddie, I had such a great time with characterization in writing It’s the Ritual of the Thing. Some of those descriptions are still some of my best work. Or, I’d have to say, Can We Both Be Lonely If We’re Both Looking at Each Other? It’s an AU modeled after the world of The Magnus Archives Podcast and not only was I proud of the way I was able to layer monstrosity on both Eddie and Steve but I just loved the world. I actually planned out a whole main plot for the world that never saw the light of day.

How did you get the idea for Baby I'm Your Man (Don't Fear the Reaper)?

I can’t remember which came first, the title or the idea of Eddie meeting Death as played by Steve Harrington, but the song title by Blue Öyster Cult had definitely been sitting in my head for a while. The idea initially started as a Seventh Seal reference with Eddie having to challenge Death with Steve Harrington’s face to a game of basketball but that scene wasn’t working so instead we got a trip through various S4 locales and a fun Death with good hair.

When writing Spit Me out, You Don't Know Where I've Been, what was something you didn’t expect?

I honestly didn’t know if anyone would vibe with the language/story. For a fic that focused a lot on unease, offal, and how hard it would be to picture a future in a small town I was waiting for people to not touch this one with a ten foot pole. So to hear that it actually channeled people’s feelings or that it was something that people enjoyed (as opposed to just me shouting stressful things at the sky) was a big expectation dodge.

What inspired It's the Ritual of the Thing?

When I was in high school I had a friend who asked me out once, the first person to ever do so, and my first instinctual response was to genuinely ask him why he was really calling me after school. He insisted that he really did want to ask me out and for some reason that made my blood run cold. The date did not go well, obviously, but I remembered the gut punch to think someone wouldn’t want you/the desire to say no just because it frightened you for years afterwards. It felt like such an Eddie thing to feel, especially if Steve Harrington was the one to ask him out. Honestly…I poured a lot of my own worldview into Eddie Munson as I wrote him and that’s where a lot of this came from.

What was your favorite part to write from Ritual of the Thing?

I’d have to say it’s a toss up between two parts. Firstly, I’ll never get over the descriptive imagery in the beginning (I’ll never forget lines like “Suddenly it’s like he’s a Jack-O-Lantern with his mouth carved open. A candle sits on his tongue and its light is shining out of his eyes”). It was the kind of sentence I was thrilled to read after I wrote it. Secondly, I was really proud of Eddie and Robin’s conversation after Steve told her about his asking Eddie out. I loved both of their voices in that moment and the thought of Robin trying to explain how much Steve could love you even after you’d had to let him down…and her little fake nightmare discussion.

How do/did you feel writing Where the Sun Can't Reach?

On one hand it felt like I was exorcizing something because I show my class The Sandlot once a year and that means for one day I watch the scene where the kid fakes drowning to make-out with the lifeguard four times. That’s too many times. I had to process that. But I do remember that feeling of loneliness that could come with summer. That could come with wishing for a room somewhere with someone you loved when it felt impossible. I remember when the smallest of things could mean the world when you had nothing else…so in a way maybe I was exorcizing that too.

What was the most difficult part of writing Where the Sun Can't Reach?

Besides the jokey answer of reliving the aforementioned scene from The Sandlot on purpose, I’d have to say trying to accurately consider the physics/feelings of Eddie’s trip into the water. The feelings/actual consequences of hitting his head. I’m not too sure I got the details right but I remember working on it so many times that I eventually threw in the towel and went with what I had.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I think…it’s gotta go to my lone vampire Steddie fic I Go Hungry Every Night. The whole thing’s one big treatise to Upside Down skinned vampires and food/service as a love language? And also the fact that I love vampires/monstrosity. I just went way too hard with the line: “If you asked Steve what the opposite of tracing constellations in someone’s freckles in the afterglow would be he’d say this, making shapes in the pieces of the wound they’ve given you. The one that weeps red slowly.”

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

While I wish I did, and I’m always thinking about various unfinished fics in the strangest moments of my life, I think I’m pretty knocked from my Steddie writing mojo. I love you you dope was an incredible process and I am so proud of it…but I think it cauterized my writing brain for Steddie. I’d love for people to poke around the fics I wrote and I will say that other people’s intrigue sometimes pulls my attention back to old ideas…but I do believe I’m a bit out to pasture here lol.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Writing Steddie was something that kept me sane during a really stressful transition from college to adulthood. These characters and all the people I got to meet/talk with in this fandom have been one of the greatest joys in my life. I’m so honored, like honestly floored, that anyone would nominate me for something like this. The thing about writing fic is that oftentimes when you start it can feel like you can’t possibly amount to what other people do. Like you’re just a little voice that doesn’t have anything special about it even when you tried so hard. But I stand as someone who felt that way and still found that people did enjoy what I wrote and if I can do it, honestly, anyone can. <3

Thank you to our author, @capriciouslyterminal, and our nominator, @mustardyellowlilac! See more of Capriciously_Terminal's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[wolfstarshipping]

I’m in a reading slump, do you have any good fics that you can recommend me?

Hi, thanks for asking lovely anon! I've thought about this and I have several different approaches on how to answer your ask, so this'll be a longer list, I hope you find something you like!

First category: Texting Fics!

I love text fics because they're usually very fast-paced and easy to read, so I think they might be a good way to combat a reading slump!

You could either go with the iconic Text Talk by merlywhirls (141.250 words), a boarding school AU with a home-schooled, chronically ill Remus, a true classic and the fic that started the whole wolfstar texting fic trend back in the day!

Or, one of my personal favorites from the same era for purely nostalgic reasons, aesthetic: trash boys by Emaly/merlywhirls (89.473 words, everyone is super queer, strong chosen family vibes, with an HIV positive Remus and genderqueer Sirius).

Or if you want a modern text fic classic, there's always Staying Strangers by 3amAndCounting (319.368 words, university AU, this is one of those fics I've reread a couple of times already, just because I love it so much, especially the texting in the beginning).

Snow In June by BrigidFaye (25.561 words) is a magical AU set in the US that also has some texting elements, even though it's not as text-heavy as the fics mentioned above, but the worldbuilding and the setting is wonderful, and lumberjack Remus is everything I ever needed in my life!

Dear Your Holiness by @mollymarymarie (142.264 words) is a priest AU and band AU, with a bit of texting, though this one is also already kind of moving into the next category of fics mentioned below. Obviously the whole catholic priest theme is not going to be for everybody, but if you think you might enjoy that, I highly recommend it, it's so, so good! And if you don't think you'll enjoy the themes of this fic, check out literally any other fic by mollymarymarie, I think at this point I've read almost all of them and enjoyed every single one I read immensely!!

Alright, so now the next category is fics with plots that will get you out of any reading slump:

I've recently become obsessed with @lynxindisguise's fics, so I'd also recommend checking out all of them, but since I've mostly recommended longer fics on this list so far, I'll go with a shorter one: in the dark, there is discovery (11.796 words) is a wonderful pirate AU that you can easily read in one evening, and it has beautiful world building, Remus Lupin as a seamonster and my new favorite trope - there was only one hammock.

Let Me Get What I Want (This Time) by Sierra_Sitruc (69.878 words) is a plot-driven and amazing fix-it-fic, that I keep thinking about even months after I've read it, and that had me stay awake at ungodly hours just because I couldn't put it down and wanted to know how it ended!

The Bent by @ebp-brain (40.257 words) is an incredible fic about queer lives, politics and art, oppression and resistance, so if any of those things sound like something you'd enjoy I highly recommend reading it, I always love earlybloomingparentheses' writing, it's so, so beautiful and powerful!

take me as i am (48.494 words) has one of the most unique settings I've ever read - it features Sirius as an (adorable) sleep demon, who is supposed to give Remus nightmares, and I also love the way this fic depicts various mental illnesses.

In saccharine by moonymoment (26.447 words) Sirius is a ghost haunting Remus's apartment, and this is another one of those fics I keep thinking about because it was just so so good.

full moon twofold by renaissance (12,031 words) is a Gothic-romance style AU and an incredible take on the question "what if Remus never went to Hogwarts?".

And now maybe a few shorter fics:

The first rec in this category is not even a specific fic but just a tumblr account: @wolfstarmicrofic, if you scroll through their blog you'll find lots and lots of really short fics which might just be what you need to get back into reading!

In You, I Count Stars by @wolfpants (1.540 words) is a wonderful hogwarts-era oneshot set in the Astronomy Tower with a pining Sirius.

It's Cold Outside by Remustrash (1.788 words) is a very fluffy and cosy there-was-only-one-bed fic, featuring the most oblivious of all oblivious puppies!

June, and Other Natural Disasters by montparnasse (5.524 words) is a beautifully written fic that made me feel all the feels and has great summer vibes!

Okay and the last category is fics with A+ vibes that'll make you forget all about your reading slump:

The Long Way Home by @hollyivydruzy (177.337 words) is a university AU and the kind of fic I didn't want to ever end, because the characters felt so incredibly real, and it's so easy to get completely immersed and lost in their wonderful, chaotic world and follow along on all their university adventures.

this desperate in love by drowsyanddazed (20.776 words) is a very cute high school AU, and reading it felt like watching a coming of age / teen movie in the best kind of way!

wading in waist-high water by @colgatebluemintygel (82.060 words) is a Great British Bake-Off AU that features Remus as a contestant and and Sirius as a host who's thirsting after Remus, and I just love the whole setting and atmosphere of the fic, as well as the writing! And this fic's Arthur Weasley needs to be protected at all costs, I love him a lot!

A Brief History of Dragons by @eyra (23.488 words) is an incredibly cosy and wonderful modern AU set in Cornwall, I absolutely ADORE Remus in this fic and love the way his and Sirius's relationship slowly develops, this fic has such a special place in my heart.

Alright I think I could keep going and add to this list forever but I'll stop now, let me know if you read any of these, and I hope they'll end your reading slump! x

[blitzxiiru]

Your Future 2012 AU is choice stuff. Your drawing style is so fun! Seriously, your representation of Leo is one of my favorites to exist on the internet.

Curious what April would be like? More pointedly, what Donnie’s attitude towards April these days?

THANK YOU FOR THE KIND WORDS ANON!! and omgomg i have the privilege of my leo being someone’s favourite im sskhsjhdjsbss <33

before i answer the question, i have to state that i’m not exactly big on shipping in the 12 tmnt verse, especially when the writers fucked up all the love interests and their plot (COUGH karai being leos sister and they still push them together?!? COUGH) (COUGH april, casey and donnie were just a whole mess COUGHS CHOKES) so i don’t exactly ship anyone. it’s just a me thing, but if you like apritello or jonatello or all of them together it’s fine! you just won’t see them as a couple canonly in my future au, cause to me they’re all just very close besties that like to tease each other :) maybe ill draw them if someone specifically requests for it, but otherwise i wont actively ship them lol

soo moving forward with that set in place, in my au donnie isn’t looking through rose-coloured glasses at april anymore. honestly with the way 2012 writers wrote them, it was more of obsessive infatuation rather than love, and it really wasn’t healthy. after the whole fiasco post season 5, donnie is much more mature now and realised that he wasn’t in love with april herself, he was in love with the idea of her. the concept of april that he fabricated in his lovesick brain. they talked about it, and they both got over the situation. so yeah april stayed as donnie’s ex crush and everyone teases the hell out of their teenager selves. at the end of the day they stayed as besties who discuss how to murder someone while wearing 10 inch tall stilettos

(( the wake up call for donnie would be after that episode where possessed april literally fucking disintegrates him. like he suddenly just had this ‘oh my god’ moment where he realised maybe this crush thing wasn’t as worth it as it seemed. don’t blame the poor guy for losing feelings — he literally got poofed into nothing but atoms by the hands of his crush — spare his feelings LMAO ))

[paintedkinzy-88]

i had NO IDEA i needed your icarus au until i saw it. i had a MAJJJJOR WINGS OF FIRE PHASE (ifykyk) as a kid.. and i literally drew everything and anyone i loved as a dragon. ofc that phase is gone now (however it taught me how to draw dragons so i can’t even be mad), but i stumbled on one of these posts and literally cannot get enough. makes me want to give the goobers my own dragon designs but genuinely yours are SO PERFECT. i absolutely LOVE the fact donnie and leo both don’t have wings, and that donnie doesn’t have scales either (soft shell eee) but just arghhhh leo is my fav turtle and he’s so pretty as a dragon i- i love the way you draw them all. they all have their unique little parts that fit in so well with their personalities and characters!

so so sooo well done and thought out too! and so so sooooooooooo well drawn. artist goals frfr.

cannot express my gratitude to the tumblr gods that recommended me your stuff and you for putting it all out there because OH MY GOSH. you literally brought back one of my biggest obsessions. heart heart heart heart heartssss all to you. mwuah /p

Bro, literally same, except it was the HTTYD book series for me. I drew so many dragons growing up because of those books, they’re my everything now 😭

If you ever do draw Rise dragon designs, oh my GOD please tag me or send it to me, I literally love dragon AUs so much—

FBJSF AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH. ｡：ﾟ(｡ﾉω＼｡)ﾟ･｡ Seriously that all means a lot to me! I’m so happy you like their designs and the story, it’s on my mind constantly. World building and character design are my favorite parts of writing and drawing, so it’s awesome to see that people enjoy it as well, and want to help out or just leave kind words! (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

I give you many hearts back, mwah! <3

[scoops404]

Aaaahhh I just finished ‘Merry Men Making Merry’ (otherwise known as MMMM) and I’m so hyped about it!!! I had so much fun reading it, your world-building is amazing, so impressive!

As I said I’m a big fan of the story of Robin Hood and it brings back childhood memories. I like that you can read your fic without having any knowledge of the original story, but if you do have knowledge of it it’s so much fun to recognize parts. Like BBH being friar Tuck had me cackling, it’s perfect!

I always love how you write Larray, I can literally hear him in my head with the way you write him 🤭

Oooh and don’t get me started on the ingenuity of incorporating their background stories through flashbacks, that really made the story come to life for me.

//“You gave me a purpose,” Dream tells him, barely audible over the cracking and popping of the fire. The wind almost carries the words away, but George heard them. They’re his now.//

This is probably my favorite part in the fic. For a moment there you had me fooled because of how the og story ends, but your ending was literally perfect. Anyway, I don’t want to spoil too much and I’ve been going on for too long so for anyone reading this ask please go read the fic, you will not regret it!

Thank you Scoops for giving us such a wonderful story again, you’re amazing!

(All that’s missing was the map of the realms at the beginning of the story, haha)

MMMM because it's finger lickin' good!!! Lol no that's so cringe omg

Spoilers under the cut!

I really wanted to write Robin Hood and I was blessed to get the prompt (It was one of those challenged where you give your top 3 preference and then get assigned one). I knew I could write something actiony/adventury because I LOOOVE writing those and I think I'm pretty good at it. Cc!DNF don't really lend themselves to action and adventure but AU versions of them do. Deep in Dream and The Mushroom King and the Nightmare were some of my favorite stories to write. Like, fully obsessed while I was writing them and working on the world building, and MMMM reminded me heavily of those vibes.

I have seen the DIsney animated movie, of course, and also "Men In Tights" and both of those stories kind of spoof the already famous tropes of Robin Hood, so I did some digging --aka I watched an hour long youtube video essay about the evolution of Robin Hood lore-- and dove in. I wanted to add elements from different "canons" - like Robin Hood being secretly a nobleman. I also didn't want this story to be 100K words (which, as you know, I could easily accidentally do) so I decided for the plot, we would center around something fun-- stealing something, since that's what he's known for. I didn't know how to make George Maid Marian because obviously he has to be the love interest, OBVIOUSLY lol, so once I changed it to Maid Marian being Dream's sister, it all kind of fell into place.

However, I also wanted to see *how* they became the Merry Men, I think that's really interesting and integral to the story, and thus the flashbacks were born. I really don't like flashbacks, both in reading and writing, I think they can be done very very well (Hi Luci!), but normally i just find them really boring, so I had to keep them short and action packed to keep everyone's attention.

BBH as Friar Tuck -- fit tooooo perfectly, I just had to. I went back and forth on George or Sapnap being Little John and then decided it didn't really matter ultimately, they both kind of fill that role. Though, George kind of also rounds out the "Robin Hood" persona --please note that he gets mistaken for Robin Hood at least once in the fic!

I had a blast writing this one and, not going to lie, it got away from me for a while, but @rebelwithoutabroom helped pull me back lol.

Thank you so much for such a lovely review of the story! I'm so glad you liked it <3

(Yes, next time will add a map, though i have no idea what it all would look like so that will add like 5 months onto things. Also, multiple realms, what was I thinking?!)

[luvhughes43]

i just finished binging your blake hughes au and MY GOD do i LOVE it I ADORE IT REALLY and i would like to ask the following:

first, has blake dated people before nico? if she has what would happen if they ran into an ex of hers who never really got over her? (bc lbr blake is THAT girl)

second, what are their date nights usually like? i like to think theyre pretty chill people and that they find things to do at home together like painting or making clay sculptures

third, was blake's pregnancy/delivery hard? i hope it wasnt :(( and did carrying rudi kind of mess with her back a bit? and has nico ever done the thing where the dad lifts up the belly for a bit to offer some relief?

fourth, blake and jack are twins which is the cutest thing ever! what are your personal headcanons for them as twins? and does blake have a favorite brother?

fifth, do they have more kids after rudi? or is that a long time away?

lastly, what do you think the hischier-hughes combo are up to right now?

im soso happy you love the au!! it means so much fr🫂🤍

first: blake had a summer fling with alex turcotte when they were both younger and that does cause some awkwardness with nico because he wasnt aware of their relationship before staying at the lake house. other than that we havent really discussed any other relationships ! but maybe she dates a guy for a year or two before she gets to know nico. the ex lives in nyc and he never really got over blake after they broke up (bc she is that girl🤭). blake and they ex have a few mutual friends and so maybe the ex tries to talk shit about blake and her relationship with nico. blake ends up hearing about it but she doesnt really gaf. nico gets upset about the shit talking though and gets a little possessive if they see the ex out in public. not aggressive though nico will just be extra touchy with blake which she doesn't mind one bit.

second: they are very chill ! their date nights at home usually include making dinner or dessert, painting (they've definitely done that tiktok trend where u paint your partner then do a reveal), and a little self-care spa evening🫶 when they do go out though they like to try new restaurants, see a concert in the city, dance lessons (?). i feel like blake would be obsessed with learning salsa or something and she would def make nico be her partner !

third: blake struggled with her back during her pregnancy ! she had to start PT again but nico was very helpful ! he was definitely lifting her belly, helping her with her physical therapy, etc.

fourth: jack and blake are the sassiest siblings and they 100% match each others attitude. when they were younger they'd get into arguments over literally anything but they would also forgive each other in an instant (still true once they're older). as for favourites, blake is the closet with jack and hes literally her other half but her unspoken favourite is quinn ! blake and quinn gossip like no other. on the other hand, blake babies luke soo much.

fifth (literally do not know how i missed this i’m so sorry babes): i personally think they should have one more but i’ve gotten mixed feedback… what do u guys think? because i totally see them as being a single child household but then again, they both grew up with siblings so i can see them having more babies down the line…

lastly: the hughes/hischier combo are in nyc helping blake and nico move into their first apartment ! blakes got her brothers and her bf working overtime building furniture and carrying hers & nicos things up to their apartment ! she rewards everyone with tickets to an upcoming country concert that the group had been debating on going to <3

thank u so much for the questions i really loved answering them🫂