#literally what is the point in having hope and trying to do well if youre just going to do bad regardless

[beka-tiddalik]

"Oh good! I was hoping to talk to you!"

"...are you serious, sire?"

"Yes! I have heard you have a real vision for the kingdom! I don't really understand it, but Lionel and Getrude were getting excited talking about it and Kimberton was turning purple so I know it must be some amazing stuff."

"...Falloway and Hunter's Idyll like my ideas? Wait no, I was here to kill you."

"And I really admire that you weren't going to leave the dirty work to one of your subordinates. It really shows that you're committed to your goals. That's the kind of drive this kingdom needs. My grandmother would have really liked you."

"Sire, I am literally holding the poisoned dagger in my hand."

"Well be careful with it, because I have a better idea that won't involve the factions in the Council turning into different sides of a civil war. Or at least, that's what Lionel is worried about. Gertrude is more worried that the Hurgen will sense weakness and try to annex us again."

"...your advisors have a point."

"Oh you think so? I was hoping you'd all get on. You'll have to if we get married, it would be no good if my wife didn't get on with my best advisors."

"Your What?! No, stop talking. Let me think for a minute."

"..."

"..."

"I just realised I didn't ask you properly. Please. Please? Would you marry me so that you can be Queen? I'll let you do all the ruling, I just want to go back to working on the idea I had for better fertiliser for the farmers."

"... you know what? I think we can come to some kind of arrangement."

A king who doesn't really want to and isn't able to run the kingdom properly catches wind of a noble woman who wants to kill him to take over and he realizes she is extremely competent so he decides to propose to her to save everyone the hassle and they have a surprisingly healthy relationship.

[xo2dee]

hey babes!! i looove your writing a lot and i was SO happy to see a fellow netflix dmc hater. i quite literally reread any one of your works every night before bed, it’s kind crack to me hehehe <3

is it cool if i request a dante x dense reader? one where he flirts with them but they just assume he’s just initiating some freaky friendly banter, and he’s lowk tweaking over how oblivious his crush his. feel free to be as creative or silly as you want with it, whatever you write will be awesome <3

PAIRING: Dante x Reader WARNINGS: Dense!Reader WORD COUNT: 1887

A/N: thank you for the request! aahsiodnfg the stray... but i had so much fun writing this and im glad you like my fics! i hope you enjoy this as well!

DMC MASTERLIST

If he was going to be completely honest with himself (and just himself… he was never going to tell you it), trying to get your attention to let you know that he saw you in a romantic sense and wanted to pursue a further relationship with you… was one of hardest things he’d ever done.

And it wasn’t even because he was coming up short in the flirting and the hinting, it was because you just didn’t get it.

Dante had never been one to actively pursue for a relationship, let alone chase after anyone to the point he was tripping on their heels each and every time an attempt failed. It wasn’t really in the job description or his nature to be looking for anyone to be with given there was a horrifying chance it would end badly and then he’d just be adding another person to the list of people he failed to keep safe, and that was not something he was looking to do. However, he’d been the one to treasure his humanity the most and latch to it as much as he could, and in consequence he’d become more emotional to the point he had to practically hide anything before it was shown on his expression – and for some reason that felt extremely pathetic but, damn, he just couldn’t help it when he saw you. He was Dante, the Legendary Devil Hunter, had so many demons crushed underneath his boots, had lived on his own and survived for so long with nothing but a sword strapped to his back and two guns in his hands, and he was suffering from a crush…

A crush on you (well, it wasn’t a crush at the point he had to be honest), and you had the thickest skull of anyone he’d ever met.

(And Dante was sure Vergil was somewhere laughing at him and his shit luck.)

Dante wasn’t some blushing virgin either, and he knew his way around sweettalking regardless if he meant it or not, and yet even when he meant it with you… it just never seemed to stick to your brain just what he was getting at. From going out of his way to do things for you, complimenting you, and even letting you drink some of his tomato juice and put a strawberry sundae on his tab for you, it still seemed like you really didn’t get it. And it had gotten so bad he’d resorted to cheesy and terrible pick-up lines hoping you would understand then, something he hadn’t pulled out in a long while and something he was going to be sure would work that time around given how upfront they were.

The results… well, they spoke well enough for themselves.

The first time you had been posed on the sofa of Devil May Cry, deeply into some book you’d picked up from the library Trish had mentioned you would like, and he saw the opportunity presented before him. He waited until you stretched after reading too long, placing the book down onto your lap and sighing as your attention was elsewhere for the moment and it was his time to shine. Dante only cleared his throat from behind his desk (and no, he wasn’t preening to make sure his hair looked good either), making sure your eyes glanced towards him for better effect, then he let the words roll off his tongue as smooth as butter on toast.

“I don't have a library card, but do you mind if I check you out?”

A beat and you paused, looking at him for a long moment that nearly made him sweat before your eyes widened and he thought finally – finally you understood what he was getting at. And then, you jumped up way too enthusiastically for hearing some cheesy pick-up line and practically jogged in place before grabbing the book from the floor in a haste. “Oh my God, wait…” you started, then you were rushing towards the front door of the shop, “I just remembered one book is due today – thanks for the reminder, Dante!”

The door slammed on your way out, and Dante could only sit there in silence and wonder if there was some type of curse that had been cast on him on the past that made his words not make sense… Or if you really just were dense as they came. Regardless, he wasn’t going to give up so easily.

The second time he threw another one-liner at you was when you both were on a job together, and you’d been good at sniping and swiping kills from him (and he’d be lying to say that he didn’t ease up some so that you get a few in and he could sit back and watch you) to the point once it was done he couldn’t help but say something to you. He waited until some adrenaline wore off, taking pride in how messy you looked with blood smeared on your cheek while taking a rag to clean the excess muck off your gun, then he tried once more with a bolder approach.

“Stop, drop, and roll now, cause babe, you're on fire.”

Instantaneously you reacted, and Dante could only sigh in exhaustion at how you began to turn in place looking for the ‘fire’ that was on your ass. “Where?! Help me then!”

Dante could feel his eye twitch as you hopped in place, his words once again lost on you as he felt his chances with you significantly reduce. But he was not a quitter – never was, and never would be.

The third time around had been his last attempt at pick-up lines, and it was even worse because you were in public that time eating together (which was basically a date, but you were so scatterbrained it didn’t necessarily strike a chord in you… though him and you alone eating together – hello, that was a date). Dante had finished his food by that point and was content just to sit and wait for you, watching you pick around your salad before the thought came to him looking at a lone cucumber you had pushed to the side. Cheesy he knew, but it was another attempt he wasn’t going to pass up with you two alone and so close to each other, and he waited until you finished chewing and swallowed before he tried for the last time.

“If you were a vegetable, you’d be a cute-cumber.”

You stopped moving the same time his heart did, a beat of silence passing in-between you two as you looked up at him for a few moments. Dante could practically feel his palms sweat as you stared at him, thinking he was finally beginning to see the gears in your head work together and he braced himself for the inevitable rejection (or acceptance… he still had hope) the second you blinked at him and tilted your head inquisitively. However, what left your lips second later with a smile made Dante want to throw himself onto oncoming traffic.

“Oh, are you still hungry? You can have some if you want.”

If he could’ve shoved his head through the wall he would’ve, or even dented the table with how hard he slammed his forehead into it. How were you so intelligent when it came to everyday things but the moment it came to someone hitting on you, you just had zero clue to what was going on? And it had gotten so bad the damn point Trish and Lady were giggling at his failures, but at least Trish took some pity and tried to spell it out for you one night at Devil May Cry.

She grinned as she leaned her head onto your shoulder, curling her arms around your own as she snickered in your ear and knocked her foot into yours, “Y’know, I think Dante adores you.”

Thanks, Trish. Way to be real subtle.

However, that didn’t matter, because you didn’t understand what she meant. At all. Again.

You tilted your head to where he sat at his desk (and he remained nonchalant as possible reading a magazine upside down), and smiled at him so big he thought he finally had his chance. But alas, misfortune was his middle name apparently. “Thank you, Dante. I really appreciate it.”

What did you have against him? Please.

Dante was sure he was going insane, the longer he battled the emotions magnifying the more time he spent around you, and the more you seemed to just not understand what he was getting at. And it had gotten so bad he accidentally paid the pizza delivery guy with his mind all muddled with thoughts of you instead of the slamming the door in his face and putting it on his tab. That was when he knew he had to swallow some pride and just take you by the shoulders and tell you what he was feeling for you, male ego be damned. He loved you and needed to you know before he started stabbing himself to get your attention and some sappy romance scene played out.

So, that was what he did, waited until you two were alone in the shop and grabbed you by shoulders and just… confessed.

“Listen… I’m in love with you. I have feelings for you. That means, I want you romantically, so please get that through your thick skull.” Okay, Dante would admit the last part wasn’t that necessary, but his frustrations were literally making his hair turn whiter – if that was even possible.

And thankfully – thankfully, you understood that time, and he got the satisfaction and relief at watching gape at his words before you began to look bashful. And to his heart’s content, you reached up and covered his hands with yours with a soft squeeze and an even softer smile on your lips, “You love me too? I didn’t think I was being noticeable either...”

Dante blinked, and he practically hear his jukebox stutter somewhere in the back of his mind as he kicked too hard one too many times. One word made his eye twitch again, and then he was feeling as dense as you were. “’Too..?’”

A laugh escaped you, “Yeah, I was kinda worried you could tell, but it looks like you saw straight through me –”

The jukebox stutter in Dante’s mind abruptly turned to an old Internet dial-up tone, and he had no wards before he completely tuned your words out and shook his head. He couldn’t take it anymore. “Please, just… kiss me before I lose my damn mind.”

You giggled and did as he asked, and Dante was sure his leg might’ve lifted a little at the feeling of your sweet lips on his he’d dreamt about so many times before. He might as well been practically floating too, breaking away from you as you hummed and leaned into his chest for an embrace, basking in the silence of an embarrassing confession together as you both seemed to get what you finally wanted. Discreetly he inhaled the scent of you, and yeah, he could easily get used to a relationship with you… especially with the hard part over.

Then, breaking the serene silence and Dante’s brain, you spoke –

“So how long have you liked me?”

[thesharktanksdriver]

Devils may love?: thirst for connection, tearful goodbyes and trying despite the odds

Here’s part 2 by popular demand! I’m gonna start writing dmc1 soon and I shall be making a masterlist for this. Btw, comment if you’d like to added to a tag list or comment to give me ur opinions because I shall very much appreciate it and I love answering questions or geeking out over stuff especially with dmc now lol.

Links for: Masterlist, Part 1

Your not sure how your still alive 

At this point its illogical 

Vergil has the amulet and knows Dante will come after him no matter if he even has you alive anymore 

So why are you still alive currently? 

Not that your complaining per say but your severely confused 

Even that Arkham guy seems to be thinking it as well

Speaking of which the more you look at him the more familiar he looks 

You can’t quite place it though 

But it’s something with his face that’s familiar 

Well it’s something you’d rather not think to hard about when the guy is stabbed in front of you by Vergil 

If your opinion of Arkham was bad before hearing he literally sacrificed his wife to become powerful or something certainly made you internally cheer as he fell to the floor

Blood pooling around him as Vergil remarks he has no use for the man anymore 

And yet 

“Keep moving, lest I have to carry you again” 

It stirs you from your thoughts as the twin looks at you 

Wordlessly you nod, stepping past arkhams body 

When Vergil turns he doesn’t see you drip your foot in the man’s blood 

Intentionally leaving a trail for Dante to find 

“If….if you killed him can you kill the jester next?” 

Whatever Vergil expected you to say it seems like that wasn’t what he thought 

Though you hope your unpredictability is seemingly a factor keeping you alive

“Jester?” He scoffs “you mean my brother?”

At that you can’t help but raise and eyebrow “no, I mean the weird ass jester demon. The one with the long nose, and annoying penchant for appearing out of nowhere. Have you not had to deal with his annoying nagging yet?”

“Evidently no since if I had we wouldn’t be having this conversation” 

“Fair. restrains or no restrains though, I will be finding out a way to curb stomp him if he pops out of nowhere again” 

“You’re a human. If he’s a demon your too weak to kill him let alone make a dent”

You shrug at that “I might be nothing more than an insect to him…but it doesn’t hurt to at least try. That’s all we can ever really do anyways. Keep trying even if it’s meaningless because there’s nothing else we can do. It’s what I do anyways. Things get hard, parents kick you to the curb yelling to never come back unless you decide to give up your “useless” dreams and everything looks like shit” pausing for a moment you can’t help but smile “keep trying even though every job turns you away and you have to drop out of school to try and get a full time job to afford a roof over your head and food…and despite it all you find a sketchy job advertisement for a business without a proper name yet and somehow end up with the most obnoxious idiot with a heart of gold as your boss who annoyingly calls you “honeypie”. And even if his family drama gets you wrapped up in getting kidnapped and brought to a demon tower, you keep trying even when the situation is against you. Because maybe that’s all you have”

Vergil stays silent after that, just ends up tugging you closer as he leads you to wherever he’s headed 

Somehow trauma dumping on him was kinda reliving even if he would probably kill you later

Best get shit off your chest than leave it bubbling in you

A trail of red follows behind you for your red coat idiot to hopefully find you 

Fortunately if you did make it out of the your now a pro at washing out blood so your shoes would probably be ok

Walking closely behind Vergil the two of you enter a large chamber

Carved stone and a chiseled floor lead to the centre of the room

And at that centre was a circular basin?

Your not really sure how to describe it

Or this place in general

The tower was old, that was certain with its general architecture and material wise

But walking though the place there was also an odd sense of foreign technological aspects to it

It was definitely too advanced for humans especially at the time it seemed like it was erected 2000 years back or so

So with that logic it was likely demonic related

Which made sense considering the purpose of the tower in the first place

A thrumming sound echos before that of heavy footsteps that makes you turn around just as Vergil does

A demon, a big looking one as well that walked on all 4

“I found you, seed of Sparda!. I told you that I remembered your rancid scent! No matter where you run to. You can never hide from me! And what’s this? A human pest as well?” It walks forward, bloody red eyes bleeding out as a singular curved horn tilted along with its head movements.

Before you have much time to react its claw comes down towards you and Vergil, but the blue half-demon pushed you back as he jumped to eliminate his threat

You watched him fight Dante atop the tower and seen his cut down smaller demons on the way here, but seeing him fight truly was something

Clean slices compared to Dante’s showy flare

Landing atop the demon as it crumbled beneath his feet

“Y-you are not the one I faced before…but this smell…there are two of them! That excrement of Sparda had two sons!”

“Yeah bud, you didn’t figure that out by looking at him. He didn’t just change wardrobe-“

A clink of a sword and its head splits leaving a gushing waterfall of blood to spill onto the ground

Vergil flips off its back, now back to your side

A glow emits from the body, blue and blinding

Vergil extends out a hand and it pulls itself to him

Seemingly absorbing it a pair of gauntlets and boots that keep their blinding glow

You can only watch what happens next

Vergil shows off and kinda plays? With his new weapons??? Like Dante does???

He kicks around the demons corpse and shows off his new gear

All while you watch dumbfounded

You also swear he’s watching your reaction?

Getting a small flicker of pride after another show of moves?

Was this like…a fear tactic or something?

A threat to keep you in line and not to run?

Because you already weren’t going to do that

Not when demons crawled around and every corner and for some reason he still needed you alive and eliminated them

Why would you leave when at least for now he was your reluctant bodyguard?

A spray of feathers waft around in the air and cascade down around you as Vergil watches your reaction

Yet again for something?

His brow twitches and his near permanent scowl returns, maybe you didn’t look afraid enough?

Two perfect halves of a beautiful red stone combine to make one 

Two remnants of a mother lost come together in the worse way possible 

Blood rains down the ceiling into a small pool in the middle of the circular room 

You and Vergil watch with anticipation 

Gritting your teeth waiting for something 

Anything big to happen 

And yet nothing 

You wait for a solid minute with the very quickly becoming agitated Vergil 

And nothing 

The irritation and anger rolling off him is palpable in waves that rivalled tsunamis 

You smartly make the decision to try and take a few precautionary steps away 

Especially as he mutters to himself if maybe more blood was needed 

You take a particularly large step away at that comment 

Shit, maybe while he was in this mindset you could slip away 

Dante was surely not too far behind-

An arm slides itself in a familiar manner across your shoulders 

Nearly instantly making your stress melt away as red leather and the overwhelming scent of blood, sweat, gunpowder and cheap cologne invade your senses 

You’d never thought you’d be this happy to smell Dante’s disgusting ass work Oder 

Something that he knew got on your nerves when he got back from a job and would chase you around trying to give you a big hug 

Just so you could smell the disgusting mix of scents under the excuse of “come here and give me some sugar, i missed you honeypie. Oh how the hours dragged on and on from my departure-“ 

Every time he did it you had half the mind to choke him out but instead you alternated to spritzing him with water like a cat 

It worked surpassingly well 

He even ended up hissing sometimes like a disgruntled cat, though you assumed that was either his inhuman traits peaking out or him playing along with the bit 

The ropes that rubbed so uncomfortably against your wrists the entire time that it slowly became a numbing pain

It’s notable though when the rope is cut and falling to the floor with a small thud 

Allowing you to see the redness of chaffed skin that would probably blister 

Before Dante addresses his brother he seems to take a careful moment to look you over 

Blue eyes tracing your body though not with his usual joking flirtatious edge 

This time it’s worry 

Anxiety that looks too foreign to be on his overly confident face 

You step behind him when the two begin a verbal exchange

A verbal exchange that once more become psychical while you watch again from the sidelines 

Mentally halfway through you kinda check out from the exhaustion 

It’s been a way too long…however many hours you’d been stuck here 

To be fair you had better things to worry about like survival than trying to figure out just how long you’d been kidnapped 

And then an unfamiliar shot rings out 

Not from ebony or ivory 

But instead a new smoking barrel from a familiar face beside you 

Two toned eyes stare at you in a mixture of surprise and confusion 

Holy shit-

“Mary?! The hell are you doing here?!?”

“We’ll talk later.” She briefly looks at you but then directs her angered gaze to Vergil “You force my father into this and kidnap my friend?!” 

she joins the fray despite being told off by Dante

Joining in on the battle with a certain rage in her eyes 

Two toned eyes that you now realize were the same as Arkham’s 

You think you now get why she talked about her mom and not her creepy ass dad

Wait that means that means her mom was-

Clapping then rings out 

The familiar grating voice of the jester filling the stone chamber 

His annoying voice mocking Mary and then Vergil as he makes quick work of the two 

And in the brightly coloured demons place once more is Arkham 

Keeping up the creepy performance before changing back to the jester and slamming her face into the ground 

You yell out for her, wanting to race over but Dante holds you back 

A look in his eyes that makes you pause 

exhaustion that rivalled your own 

He’s been fighting whatever was thrown at him up to this point 

Stabbed, impaled, clawed, shot at and everything else your mind can picture 

Not to mention him just duking it out with Vergil moments before the clowns arrival 

As the long nosed bastard pointed out, their both weak 

Something even more apparent as he then curb stomps Dante into the ground 

The impact of which sends you flying to the floor like everyone else in the room 

He switches back to the bald bastard 

Explaining why it didn’t work despite the two halves of the amulet and some sort of blood of Sparda

Apparently they needed the blood of a priestess just as Sparta did to seal off the demon world 

Something that is then quickly remedied with the bastard stabbing his own daughter in the leg to obtain it

Because she had the blood of that sacrificed priestess, due to her being that woman’s descendant 

Red streams through the small canals in the floor of the room to the centre 

Pooling like a ruby lake 

He monologues more as the jester about his plan of making sure everyone duked it out 

Then turning to you with a yellowed grin 

Apparently he kept you around as an entertainment factor but grew tired of how Vergil kept you alive for some reason 

Something he chides the half demon for 

But he’s tired of you

The one rogue misstep in his elaborate scheme 

Something he was going to make quick work of correcting if not for the 3 others in the room getting the jump on him 

But a red glow fills the room 

A platform rises and he ascends as everything shifts 

He kicks the others off the stage but you 

Leaving you clinging to consciousness as it ascends 

You reach out a hand with blurred vision hoping for anyone to grab it 

At the top of the tower Arkham boasts of becoming the new god of this world 

Statues surround the circular platform as he struts around 

But not before giving you a good kick in the gut 

The strength of which sends you rolling across and hitting the pole that begins a mechanism to pull up several bells

Bells you’d once thought to be statues 

Looking behind you see city lights twinkle like stars dotting the night sky 

Clouds circling around 

How you haven’t yet died from the oxygen being thin is beyond you but you attribute it to either demon nonsense or adrenaline pushing you past average the human limit 

Maybe both 

Blood spills out your mouth in painful coughs

Of course he had to aim for the lungs 

And while you cough he says you should be grateful 

Grateful to see the new god of this world before he ends your existence 

Grateful you get to be the first sacrifice of many 

Grateful he’ll do it in front of Dante to give you a chance to say goodbye 

What an ass

The sky shifts as he names the seven deadly sins 

A hellish portal opening up above and letting red aura flow down into him 

Surrounding him as the wind howls and demon screeches join in a symphony 

He begins to float and your left to cling to the support holding the bell 

His laugh echoing out as he ascends 

It makes your stomach curdle 

Doesn’t help afterwards that you begin to follow him upwards as well 

You nearly puke 

Son of a bitch-

The demon world isn’t what you expect it to look like 

Less fire and brimstone with the scent of rotten eggs and smoke 

But more like weird impressionist painting of jutting stone, flowing water, diamond-like sky and purple 

Just purple 

Blue and red 

A irony not lost on you 

It would’ve made you laugh in a mixture of hysteria and dread if you weren’t 90% sure that his kick earlier broke a rib and it was currently jabbing slightly into your lung 

Something even more apparent when you drop down and land harshly on a jutting slab of stone 

Talk about a rough landing 

And rough time for your lung because that rib has definitely now punctured it a bit more 

Dear god if you survive this your hospital bills were gonna be abysmal 

Arkham stands not far away in the form of some sort of demon 

Large imposing horns and insect-like wings 

He monologues about how this was Sparda’s true form

It explains why Dante who just joined the show seems less than amused at the spectacle

Even having the nerve to call him a backed up toilet 

That gets a laugh from you, a laugh you regret a moment later when you nearly cough up a lung 

Damn your hysteria making stupid decisions 

And damn Dante for actually being funny for once 

The fight between them is a blur once more 

Clashes of swords 

Yada yada 

Your vision is getting a bit more blurry than you’d like to think about 

Black dots appearing at the edges of your sight 

But you find the will to stand 

To get up 

To try 

Because what else can you do beside laying there 

This entire time you couldn’t do anything but be a punching bag, hostage, potential therapist and yelling for Dante 

If you were gonna die you might as well die trying

You get up just in time to see the fucked up copy of dante’s dad melt away into some amorphous blob of spasming shape 

Purple and glowing 

And plain ugly and kinda more pathetic than anything 

This is what he spent years obsessing over 

What he scarified his wife for 

What he nearly killed his daughter for 

God you hated this guy more than anything right now and all you wanted was to see him die 

And by god would you try to kill that fucking clown if it was the last thing you’d do 

“Dante! Got any spare guns?”

Briefly turning away from his fight with the blob he sends you a smirk “Sure thing honeypie! Curtesy of lady!” 

He throws you the weapon you’d seen Mary with earlier, some sort of canon. Her blood still stains the bayonetta in which Arkham stabbed her in the leg with, a reminder of who’s place your also fighting for “this one time I’ll let that slip! Don’t think it’ll happen again though you ass!” 

With Dante taking an up close and personal approach it distracts Arkham from you 

Too occupied clearing the bigger threat than the sniper

But that doesn’t mean it isn’t messing him up 

You aim with your admittedly unsteady vision when he’s about to get a hit on Dante 

Distracting him enough for the red coat devil to evade and get a hit in 

Dante can’t help but make a few quips here and there 

Somehow finding ways to make even the shitiest of situations the butt of the joke 

It was perhaps his greatest talent 

And perhaps his greatest cooping mechanism 

Though beside trauma responses you’d 100% agree the complete joke of what was Arkham 

The punchline though is when Vergil arrives just in time 

Putting aside even his weird rivalry with Dante to beat arkhams ass 

Though not enough to not talk about retrieving his rightful power 

Baby steps? 

Well whatever it’s something you guess 

At least he isn’t stabbing Dante again and hurtling down into hell with you thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes 

The two work together nearly seamlessly to take him down 

Stabbing into the blob that is Arkham as you shot yet another shot at him 

All this combines in making him flail around 

The twins push their respective swords through him to the others side 

Either grabbing the others sword

Hacking and slashing once more at the pathetic excuse for something that was once a man

With only a shot left you line up a your final shot despite how shaky your body is 

Waiting at the right moment as the twins of Sparda slice at him once more 

And you pull the trigger 

Sending yet another explosive shot at him 

He screams out 

Dange pulls out ebony and ivory, spinning them before looking briefly over his shoulder to send you a smirk 

It gives Arkham enough time to send ebony out his hand though luckily Vergil takes it 

Sending his brother an unimpressed look 

But still sending the briefest of glances your way for a split moment 

A smirk on his face as well no matter how minuscule it was 

“I’ll try it your way for once”

“Remember what what we used to say?”

“DoNt dO iT”

“Do it!” 

Vergil crosses ebony over ivory, you see both twins smirk 

“Jackpot”

The bullets swirl around one another like ribbons 

Creating a blinding light as they collide into Arkham 

His final words once more about having the power of Sparda 

He dies like a pathetic loser, shocking really 

The man who obsessed over a dead guy for years, sacrificed his wife and attempted to kill his daughter died as a pathetic blob 

You have to agree with Vergils dry remark of his final words not being classy 

It gets a chuckle from you as you scale down the stone debris while ebony is tossed back to Dante 

The odd spirit water surges around your ankles as Arkham melts away

Becoming nothing in the end, a fitting fate for someone like him 

Above a gaping hole where the water pours into The two amulets and a sword fall into a abyss that both of them jump into 

But not before Vergil grabs you to drag you in with him 

Again

“Motherfucker again?!? Come on-“

The moment Vergil’s feet splash on solid ground your let go off and fall very not so gracefully to the ground 

He runs to the sword before Dante can get it 

Pulling it from the ground and gazing at Dante’s half of the amulet that his twin was able to snatch 

Two pairs of Blue eyes narrowing at one another 

“Give that to me” he extends out his hand motioning for the amulet 

At that Dante looks at the necklace before tucking it behind him “no way, you got your own” 

Children, both these men were god damn children 

Getting up from the demon water you safely decided to limp off to the side 

You smell a fight coming just like how you can smell rain before it pours

You’ve gotten your wish of helping kill the clown, now your letting them finish their business 

It already felt as if you were intruding as it was 

Better not get involved 

“Well I want yours too” the sword is pointed out to Dante as the two circled one another 

“What are you gonna do with all that power, huh? No matter how hard you try, your never gonna be like father” that taunt even from your distance seemed to piss off Vergil royally with how you see his grip tighten on the demon blade

“You’re wasting time!” He makes the first move, running with the blade held ready to strike yet there’s no clang of metal hitting one another hitting your ears all the while water coursed passed them, rushing off the cliff down into the unknown of hell itself. Instead both caught the others swords with their bare hands. 

“We are the sons of Sparda!” Both begin to push the others blade back “within each of us flows his blood but more importantly his soul!” 

At that both successfully push the other away 

Sending water spraying everywhere 

For a moment Dante’s eyes connect with your own 

You see a spark in them you hadn’t seen once before 

“And now my soul is saying it wants to stop you!”

“Unfortunately our souls are at odds brother” Vergil raises at hand up to his eye level clenching it dramatically as he continued “I need more power” 

Did these two both go to acting school at some point?

Was being melodramatic as hell a demon thing? 

Because this was borderline Shakespeare level dramatics 

Or maybe you were hallucinating this due to the blood loss

Or because you were tired as all hell

Or maybe because you weren’t paid enough to deal with this-

“And we’re supposed to be twins”

“Twins…right” 

They might not see it but you can definitely see how their both twins with how overly dramatic this all was-

Blades clash and the smell of iron and gun smoke fill the air 

Blood flies 

And your left to watch it all from the sideline 

The adrenaline was beginning to ware off as the pain of your body sets in 

Every breath felt like glass was pressing in your lungs 

Jabbing at every inhale and exhale 

Blood being coughed out in between the flurry of gunshots and swords clashing 

God this sucked 

You think back at your entire life up until this moment and wonder if this was worth it all

Back to your childhood filled with expectations already laid on your shoulders 

The loneliness of parents who brushed your passions aside in favour of a letter on a piece of paper determining your worth to them 

The way in which high school was stress upon stress with few things to relive it 

Things like Mary’s company and the few electives you got to chose of your own volition 

No complicated science equations or mathematical formulas to memorize 

Just your own passions 

Like that poetry class 

And then it comes back to that night 

Collage applications in their hands that they tore in front of your face 

The ones you had picked on your own 

The fighting with your parents 

The way they threw you out without so much as a second thought 

Just saying to come back when you became sensible 

When you’d abandon your dreams to pursue what they’d decide for you 

How you could see in their eyes they expected you to come grovelling back after about a week 

Begging for them to take you back in 

But then came that rush of resentment 

You wouldn’t let them win 

So you moved on 

Tried to live because that’s all you could try to do 

Even if it meant dropping out in 12th grade to try and find a job to cover for an apartment and necessities 

Even if it meant abandoning everything else to at least try and make ends meet 

Even if it meant getting rejected from place to place until you found that fateful advertisement 

And the pain in the ass of a boss you were currently watching brawl with his brother 

The same boss who made you laugh 

Who walked you home on late nights and looked after you that one time you got sick 

The red coat wearing idiot who’d always offer you a slice of pizza or spoonful of his strawberry sundae 

Grinning all the while 

The boy a the same age as you yet had lived more than a lifetimes worth of fear and trauma, the same one who’d cling to you in moments of silence like you were his only lifeline 

And maybe he was yours as well 

Anchoring you when all the thoughts of doubt began to set in 

Of what you lost when leaving home 

But then pulling you back to realize you didn’t loose much at all besides Mary 

Because you never really had a home, nor parents or security 

You just had yourself and the weight on your back 

A weight now gone letting you decide what you wanted to do 

No matter how stupid it was to stay at a store that still didn’t have a proper name 

No matter how idiotic it was to stay with Dante with the risk because

He was the one person who hadn’t abandoned you

Who didn’t give up to save you from this nightmare tower 

Maybe if you’d stayed with your parents your life wouldn’t have ended up this way 

You’d be stuck as a lawyer or doctor but you’d have avoided this 

Probably later on settled down at 25 with a match they’d set you up with 

Expecting grandkids by 29 or something 

All the while you lived like with a good paying job and maybe a decent person you’d have to deal with for at least the next 40 years

Yet Somehow the thought of that left you more unhappy than your circumstances now even with all the pain 

Because for as shitty as this all was you’d at least lived for yourself for once 

Taken the reigns of your life in your hands instead of them being in another 

And you didn’t regret that 

Not one bit 

Hell, the only thing you regretted was not punching Arkham in his stupid jester face 

Because even if you died here in pain and coughing up a lung 

At least you died knowing it was your own choices leading up to here and not those of your parents 

And that was a lot more satisfying than anything 

Especially when you got to meet the dumbass you called both a boss and friend named Dante, meet Mary again and talk about poetry once more 

Somehow that had made you happier than anything 

Water splashes once more yet there’s no more clatter of swords and your attention is diverted to Vergil kneeling in the muddied water

Blood mixes in it 

Though your unsure if it’s from your own or a mix from both from the showdown between brothers 

Either way it runs down past Vergil to Dante at the edge of the waterfall

This felt like the end of this all 

With heavy difficulty you get up, using a stone pillar to support yourself 

“Am I….being defeated?” It’s uttered in disbelief as he stares down into the waters reflection 

“What’s wrong? Is that all you got?” Dante moves forward in a mix of mocking and anger, “come on get up, you can do better than that” 

With shaky legs you move toward the red stained twin, nearly toppling over when the ground rumbled beneath your feet.

“The portal to the human world is closing Dante.” Briefly he looks to you, something flashing in icy blue eyes as you stood a few feet from Dante using Mary’s gun to keep yourself propped up“because the amulets have been separated”

“Let’s finish this Vergil” there’s a pause “I have to stop you. even if that means killing you”. The look in his eyes is something akin to pure conviction and yet in the small shake of his grip you could see the hesitation he steeled away.

You remember the nights in which Dante would tell you about him and his brother when they were younger 

He bragged he’d always won when they’d fight with wooden swords 

His bravado and general overconfidence made you remark sarcastically that you were sure that had happened 

Getting in response an arm thrown around your shoulder and him resting his head atop yours 

A complaint of falling from his mouth yet he still looked satisfied with himself 

The same grin 

The same blue eyes that peaked past untamed white hair with a certain nostalgic haze 

Yet now those eyes hardened themselves 

And you can’t help but both hope and dread if he was right 

If he really won all those matches as a kid when Vergil readies his blade and Dante readies his own 

They charge 

Boots creating large splashes 

Water rushing past them 

Dante running away from you and Vergil headed to your direction near the edge 

Both yell while charging yet all you can focus on is the water and sickening slash 

Metal glimmers at the perfect angle to create a horizontal line of light

And then red 

Red spews across the air and mixes once more into the water 

With baited breath you wait and neither move 

Until the pained groan of Vergil stumbles from his lips and his necklace clatters along with the blades 

He picks it up as Dante puts away his sword 

Vergil takes a step back 

Clutching the necklace in a near crushing intensity 

Trying to convince him this isn’t the way would be for naught with him 

Vergil is someone who’d died of his own stubbornness and with his ideals 

It’s something both maddening and something you can’t help but respect in a odd way 

“No one can have this Dante. It’s mine, it belongs to a son of Sparda!” He takes more steps back towards the edge, shit no-

“Don’t do it!” Despite the pain you push forwards, despite the fact you know you won’t convince him, once more you try

Dante realizes what he’s about to do as well, surging forwards as you did but you’re both met with blade pointed to your necks. “Leave me and go, if neither of you want to be trapped in the demon world” eyes flicked between you and his brother as he clutches the amulet tightly “I’m staying, this place was our fathers home”. He gets closer to the edge, nearing the tip off point.  He leans back as you and Dante move forwards, hands outstretched to try and grab him. Though one is cut whilst the other is left untouched. 

Staring down as he’s encompassed by the unknown of hell you keep your eyes locked with his. Though he was an ass, an egocentric focused on a vain goal of his own pride you still can’t help but cry for him as your knees hit the hard rock and you reach your hand out despite the fact he’s too far gone to save. Because for as much as he detested his humanity, he was undoubtedly human in the most tragic sense. He was human in his pain, human in his hate, human in the way he held a passion for old poetry and longed for connection even if he’d never admit it. And he was certainly human when in the last moments before he disappeared into darkness his eyes stared deep into your own. Widening ever so slightly at the fact you still outstretched your hand to him, that you cried for him despite it all.

In those eyes in those last moments you see the human longing for companionship, of not wanting to be alone anymore. Whilst in your tear stained ones he sees the truth of the matter. You wanted to save him. Both here as he plunged into hell and back when you warned him of opening Pandora’s box, you did it because you wanted to save him. Because For some foolish reason you cared for him. 

(And that sticks with him far more than you’d ever know) 

Blood stains your shoulder as he places a hand on it 

The one Vergil sliced yet was healing and closing into a faded memory if not for the slice on the glove as well 

It snaps you from staring down into darkness, hand still reaching to grasp a hand that you’d never hold 

It closes tightly, leaving crescent indents in your palm 

“Let’s go” his words remain empty. Gone is his usual playfulness or lighthearted tone. Just empty and desolate.

Quietly you nod, getting up once more despite the pain with a small grimace 

You’d rather not let him know right now how injured you are 

He lost his brother again for fucks sake 

Hiding your limp and the strain of carrying Mary’s weapon you watch him pick up the sword he and Vergil raced to obtain earlier 

It’s not triumphant in any sort of way 

It’s just a tragedy 

One giant tragedy of two brothers

The sky back home is darkened by clouds as the destruction of the tower and demons loom like a veil of grief 

Wind blows through now abandoned buildings 

And silence permeates just about everything besides yours and Dante’s footsteps 

You nearly cry when you see Mary 

Her mismatched gaze locking with yours after a brief moment of surprise 

“Phew, What an ordeal” Dante acts nonchalant but you know he’s hiding his hurt. Mary’s canon is slung over his shoulder after he saw you struggle in carrying it awhile back. “You’re still here?” 

“I need that back” her eyes leave yours to linger on her canon before returning to you “and I need some answers from you later”. You nod, and Dante goes to hand her back the canon-

He pulls back at the last second “no late charges I hope. I also let them borrow it as well though seems like they already have the friend discount” 

Mary hums, “I’ll think of your charge. But for them it’s free”. Getting back her weapon she handle it with care, slinging it onto her back.

Dante moves and you stand beside him watching the sky, “we should be fine for now. But I’m sure they’ll be back soon, very soon”. Your hand grips his coat sleeve, and you feel his arm shake slightly.

“Are you crying?”

“It’s only the rain” the answer is immediate and yet despite the cloudy sky no water poured.

“The rain stopped already Dante” it comes more like a pained wheeze which gains a concerned look from both of them. They look like they’re gonna stop their conversation but you just grin in a silent gesture for them to continue. they need this, Dante needs this, and you won’t let yourself be the reason they stop.

“Devils never cry” 

“I see….maybe somewhere out there even a devil may cry when he loses a loved one. Don’t you think?” 

“Maybe…” there’s the slightest bit of hope in the response that makes you smile ever so slightly as you grip on his coat goes slack and your legs give out.

Distantly you hear both of them yell your name before succumbing to darkness.

As a kid the only activity your parents signed you up for that you enjoyed in any capacity was choir 

It was a pastime that had you away from under their thumb 

A small haven from the empty crypt you called a home 

It felt nice being apart of something as a collective and not on a stage alone with the spotlight solely on you 

All the other activities they had signed you up for were individual

So the attention was on you constantly 

If you messed up it would be noticed 

And if you faltered for even a moment their eyes would scowl from the crowd 

But in choir it was different, You harmonized with others 

Joining together no matter how small your role was to create a beautiful symphony of noise that echoed in the halls 

A lot of what you remember is just vague notes and melodies 

Latin dripping from your tongue and becoming garbled to the sands of time 

But you can’t help but think back to one song though

It was old and fractured and broken 

You couldn’t remember the lyrics but you did remember the melody and solemn organ 

your choir teacher at the time insisted you all try it 

At least to give it a chance despite its broken nature 

That melody of garbbled sounds you’ll never know the meaning to stuck with you in the depths of your mind 

And even when you forgot how you knew the melody in the first place it had remained 

That minute long chorus into some greater song dances in your mind once more 

You hum to it 

Singing with it as though you were back in those piers in white robes and little angel wings 

A halo of golden tinsel above your head 

But in that mass of voices you hear a familiar one 

Dante-

It pulls you from unconsciousness 

At first you feel before you properly understand anything around you 

Soft material under you 

Something heavy but warm laid over you 

And the rough material of bandages compressing your chest 

Distantly you hear the song quietly sung 

And then comes sight and your met with the sight of the wrecked store 

The jukebox is busted 

Pool table in two with the balls scattered on the floor 

Desk splintered in half 

Drum set and guitar smashed in the corner 

The fan was in pieces on the dirty and broken floor

Yet somehow miraculously the couch you were on was alright minus the greasy pizza stains you’d failed previously to wash out

Trying to sit up is met with instant regret, a sound of pain escaping you 

The material covering you that you now realize to be Dante’s jacket falling off to the ground 

The song stops 

But with that came the jingle of a familiar chain to a necklace guarding a key to the underworld 

“Easy there, you need to rest up before you start trying to do anything. Doctors orders” 

Gently, hands that had killed so many demons and spilled such blood pushes you back into laying down properly 

Then draping his coat back over you 

Thankfully it seemed he had the foresight to wash it 

A small victory

“How do you feel?”

“I’d say like hell but that be ironic” 

That gets a small chuckle from him 

On the small couch he sits himself by your legs

Not sitting in his typical spread out manner to ensure you have enough space to laze comfortably 

“Where’s Mary?”

“Mar- oh right lady. She’s off to get you some prescription. I opted to stay here and make sure you didn’t wake up and start trying to fix the place when half dead” the last part comes out a bit harsh but you guess you kinda deserve that.

“Ah…what’s with you calling her lady?”

“Said she preferred that now….that Mary died a long time ago” 

It goes back to an awkward silence 

Your mind racing with thoughts

His as well with how he tapped his finger against his leg 

Silence permeates with nothing to fill it

It’s uncomfortable

Not like the silence you’d used to have sparingly with him, especially when he once had a need to fill it with something

Yet again a tactic he used to defuse nerves

But now there’s nothing

He wants to say something

He always wants to talk but now he genuinely wants to say something

Yet he holds back

Let’s it die in his throat when he tunes his gaze to you

Guilt creeping up in him evident by how he quickly then averts his gaze

Unable to look at you

There’s a moment it looks like he wants to reach a hand to you 

To place it on your leg as a means of comfort

Yet he hesitates Pulling back as if his touch would burn you

All the while you lay on the couch with him by your feet 

This feels so weird 

You want to move but you know the reaction and answer you’ll get 

So you lay there 

A pillow propped up against the arm while his jacket acted as your blanket 

And silence permeates for minutes on end as he sits there

Observant and looking as if a single sound would send him into fight mode

A bit paranoid even for his traumatized teenage mind 

The juxbox is broken 

So there’s no way he can play something to calm himself down

A habit you noticed when he was particularly stressed 

But maybe-

“Were you singing earlier?”

Your voice feels raw, you hadn’t noticed it until just now 

Like you had garbled sand into glass 

You can’t sing like this 

But maybe he could 

“Yeah, why?” 

“What….what was that song you were singing?”

“It was something my mom taught me, uhhhh something like “devils never cry”? They made it into a kick ass rock song-”

“I learned it in choir class, it was my favourite. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard it….can you sing it for me Dante?” 

He quirks a brow “you’re full of surprises you know. I’m not gonna lie and say I remember it well or that it’s accurate because I think it’s a translated version I was taught. but, whatever the patient wants I guess…All days, I'm looking in the Deep water flowing into me, Where are all tears, are they fallen? Tell me why I feel them in me? One day, they'll tell me what I'm exactly, Tears don't fall, I'll never heal them”

Mary- er lady helps with Dante in taking care of you 

Apparently after you passed out the two had rushed to a hospital while dealing with demons 

And your prediction of a rib poking into your lung was correct 

A bit too correct for your own sake 

Safe to say the bills were expensive and in the crossfire of all that your apartment wasn’t exempt from the destruction the hell tower you now learned was called the “temen-ni-Gru” had caused

Aka your building was destroyed in the madness and now you had to find someplace else to crash  

You’d be more upset if you had more to move and mourn

But honestly you had bare necessities 

And your apartment admittedly sucked so much so you were already looking for another place 

So for now you were crashing at the store 

That now finally had a name

Devil may cry 

A fitting name and much more easy to use instead of “the store”

Like you’d had to use for months up to this point 

Made you sound ominous when you said you worked at “the store” 

Anyways 

The two took shifts and turns 

One staying while the other went out to do whatever 

Presumably killing the few straggler demons that didn’t go down with the tower

Dantes been more silent than usual but at least for now you excuse it 

He lost his brother and now he had to look after you 

Not exactly a fun combination with the fact of the store needing to be fixed 

But with that comes talking with lady 

Catching up on what had happened 

And finally the talk you’d both been needing to have 

One seemingly long overdue when she sits down beside you 

Hands folded and the canon you now knew as Kalina Ann propped up on a folding chair 

You’d have to add buying new furniture for dmc to the list of stuff to do later 

“So….why’d you do it?” Lady is quiet, her words more like a secret than anything 

“Do what?”

“Run away?”

So they told People you ran away instead of them kicking you out?

You aren’t exactly surprised but did they really think it would make them look much better? 

A sigh voluntarily leaves you 

Depending on the lengths they went missing posters might be up 

You hope to whatever god there may or may not be that they wouldn’t that go that far

But considering this is the first time you’d stood your ground against them and didn’t come crawling back…

Well, control freaks will do what they can to reel you back in no matter the cost 

Especially since they were hinging on a cushy future in which they retired early and relied on you as an atm 

“Sure running away, that’s definitely what you call throwing your kid out to the curb because they won’t become a lawyer and saying not to come back until they changed their mind” the tone is slightly bitter but not aimed to her, moreso the circumstance

At hearing that you see her mismatched eyes widen a bit 

Pits of Emerald green and ruby red peering into that of your own 

Seeing truth and bitterness stew in them 

But at their core was sadness and hope 

Bitterness at the memories 

Yet a hope for the future 

Something she’d never quite seen in your eyes 

And it’s something you can’t see in hers anymore 

For the whole she’d been looking after you it’s been present 

Looming over the girl that had been your friend 

Grief

Loss 

And an overarching sense that she’s on the brink of collapse 

Can’t blame her either

Not after whatever she’s been through up till now 

All on her own after her mom died left to stew in anger 

Only for now the grief to hit her full force for not only Miss Ann

But also for the memory of what once was her family 

For her kind mother whom she talked about in earnest 

Who despite never meeting you always packed extra snacks for Mary to share with you 

For a father there but always absent

Nose stuck in his studies whom she talked of in hopes of earning his attention 

Until that faded as years passed 

And what’s left is a bitterness to the man who took everything 

Who tried to kill her 

Who killed her mom 

His own wife 

All for the sake of an obsession that would be for nothing because ultimately he only experienced the power he wanted for mere moments 

Leaving Mary the unfortunate victim in it all

You don’t have the right to continue complaining about your parental situation to her 

Not with what she’s experienced 

Not with what she’s lost in such a short period of time 

But her eyes are what stop you 

Brimming with emotion 

Two toned eyes of emerald green and ruby red 

They shine like jewels too 

Pretty and glimmering in the dull lighting of devil may cry 

“Why did you never tell me how bad they were to you?” Her question is quiet at first but gains volume from a faint whisper to a steadfast tone as she then asks “why didn’t you come to me when you were kicked out?”

“I just….at school and with you I wanted to be normal. I didn’t want to think about what’s at home when I walked through the doors I wanted to be my age for once, and I felt that way only with you till now.” As for that second question, it’s a bit of harder thing to admit to her let alone yourself “i was panicked…I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t want to be a burden-” 

“Burden?” It’s uttered in disbelief “how can you think like that! You’re never a burden to me! I was worried sick and they said you ran off! And I was alone and then I lost my mom”she pauses at that, going suddenly quiet as the words died in her mouth.

Your not really sure what to say after that 

Neither is she

She just stays motionless besides the shake in her hands

In all your years of knowing her you’d never seen her like this 

Even when she scraped her knee on the playground 

She’d always been strong 

Always held back tears even when her boyfriend in first year dumped her just before winter break 

Always had been the strong shoulder for you to lean on when you were upset 

And yet that girl is gone 

Mary is dead and lady is what’s left of that girl 

The bitterness 

The resentment 

the overwhelming grief of loosing both her parents 

And most importantly the loneliness of it all 

And your left to hold those pieces of her

Both emotionally as she breaks from the strenuous weight of everything crashing on her now 

And physically as you push past your discomfort and pain to hold her close 

She hesitates for a moment 

Unsure and unsteady 

But eases and pulls your closer 

Holding you as if you were her last lifeline 

Because in a way you are her lifeline 

You are the last good thing from Mary’s life that still remains 

And though that girl is dead, lady clings to that barest pinprick of light 

Because when being born again from rage and anger with her revenge now satiated 

What more does she have?

“I…I’m sorry” she’s desolate, quiet and a tad withdrawn until you pull her close. She’d always been the one you leaned on, but Mary was gone and it was time for you to repay the favour to what’s left of her.

“No, I’m sorry too. I should’ve contacted you, did anything sooner….i was scared and wanted to start over now that i had the chance. I should’ve thought of how you felt”

She’s silent for a few moments, but draws herself closer into your embrace. “We’re both pretty messed up huh?”

You can’t help but laugh a bit at that. “Yeah…guess we are. But we have each other again, and I think that’s what matters most right now”

She nods, and that’s all that needs to be said

….Well besides “I can get revenge on your parents-“ and “how about we talk about that later Lady”

He’s distant and stuck in his head more than before

It’s something that most wouldn’t notice since he tries to act like his typical self

Lady falls for it, though reluctantly because she doesn’t know him well but writes off why his smiles don’t reach his eyes

But you’d known Dante for about a year now

You’d known him long enough to notice when he’s off

It’s in the way his jokes aren’t the same

How he can’t properly look at you as he did before, with a sense of ease and joy that’s now damped

The drumming of his fingers and the thump of his boot against the floor creating soft creaks in the hardwood

you can tell whatever he didn’t say before was eating away at him

This wasn’t just grief (though that was still heavily apart of this) but rather something else that you can’t name until he was honest with it

Now, you wouldn’t particularly call yourself a confrontational person

You’d rather roll over than raise your voice or objection to your parents until that fateful night

And even then you mostly stood there being yelled at

You’d hardly name that a battle of words

But when it came to you, you wouldn’t do much to stand up for yourself

But this wasn’t about you

This was about Dante

And for as much as you could rot in silence like a forgotten fruit at the back of the fridge, you wouldn’t let Dante do the same

Not with how you see it absolutely eating at him

Just as it did to you before

Because you can see yourself so badly in him

And it hurts more than your currently broken chest

So when it’s finally his turn to stay with you while lady was out you take the chance

Because you can lose your apartment, your cold childhood home and what little shit you had

But you couldn’t lose him

You wouldn’t let him slip through your fingers and plunge into a different darkness that was all to similar to that of the hell Vergil voluntarily fell into

Not if you could do anything about it

“You’ve been more quiet as of late…”

“Really?”

“Yeah…”

It goes back to silence for a few minutes

This idiot isn’t taking the bait to air out his thoughts

Maybe you’d have to go the direct route instead

“So….are you gonna tell me what you wanted to say a few days ago?”

“Who’s to say I had anything on my mind”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at that, then reaching over to grab his shoulder. He was gonna run and you’re not letting him. “I know you well enough to know when you stuck in your head about something Dante…just please be honest and tell me. I don’t like seeing you distant like this”

There’s a pause in his actions at your touch, whatever was compelling him to run being stopped in his tracks. And then he answers “why’d you not say anything?”

“About what”

“Your injuries! You were hurt and on the brink of dying and you didn’t say anything about it!” 

“Dante you had just lost your brother. You had other things to deal with-“ 

“And I could’ve lost you too on top of that as well! Because I didn’t notice you were on the brink of dying and you didn’t say anything!” 

His eyes are clouded now in tears, glossy and making the blue shine like jewels

In any other scenario you’d admire the beauty in them

Yet all you see is pain refracted in the pools

Dante looks less his age and more like a scared little boy

But maybe that’s what he’s always been at heart

A scared boy still trapped in that hiding place as the house burned around him

Arms wrapped around himself to try and feel the fleeting warmth of his mothers touch

Loss drenches him to the bone

And you now realize that you’d nearly made it worse by brushing it off

But you can’t be fully to blame

Not when all your life you’d been raised to push away your own feelings

Your pain for others around you

And yet now he wants you to bare it to him

To ripe yourself open at its most tender

Because he was scared for you

Because he truly cared just as lady did

“You nearly died because of me, you were dragged into this because of me. Because I was selfish and couldn’t let go even when I knew it’d be dangerous. I….I shouldn’t have….you’d be safer if you left. Found another job and got away from here” it come out as a quiet whisper from him, his hair overshadowing his face and obscuring his eyes. You’d known him well enough though to know they were brimming with tears. You knew at the end there was also the unsaid notion of “away from me” Did this goof really think that after all this you’d leave? Knowing how much pain he was going through and had admitted to you he was scared of being alone again. Shaking your head your hand finds his, fingers linking together.

“You’re an idiot you know? You think I’m gonna leave you here when you still need me to remind you of the overdue bills? This place would go under if not for me. I���m not going anywhere” 

“I’m being serious here for once-“ 

“I know damn it, but you listen to me for a minute before you get it all up in your head and make a decision without my input” it’s a bit sharp but you need to right now, he’s spiraling and already trying to decide to push you away. With a groan you slowly lift yourself up, getting a sound of protest from him before you silenced him with your open palm telling him to stop. Hesitantly he does so, watching you struggle but eventually sit up, hand clenching his. “I’m happy here Dante” 

“Your happy here?” It’s spoken in disbelief. Maybe all your bitching had made him think otherwise but you did enjoy your time here, you wouldn’t trade it for the world or whatever cushy future your parents wanted. “Your happy here after all this? After you nearly died because of m-“

“I’m gonna stop you right there. We’ve had this conversation before and I didn’t know then but I know now why I want to stay despite the risks. Dante I never really lived before now. My life was made up for me and my outcome was predetermined before I was kicked out. And sure, maybe staying here is dangerous” you think of that future if you’d stayed and done what your parents wanted, an older unhappy version of you staring blankly in your mind “but danger is apart of life, you can’t live without it. And I’ve never been more happier, more free than I am here. So no, I don’t care about the danger I’m staying…understand?”. You see his eyes, they’re brimming with tears and more emotions than you can processed. But beneath it all you see Dante. The kind annoying dork who like his brother longed for companionship. His lips upturn ever so slightly as your free hand not entwined with his gently finds itself cupping his cheek, thumb wiping away a tear he didn’t realize had fallen. 

“I’m staying and I don’t intend on leaving anytime soon even when things get dicey….understand?”

“Yeah…loud and clear honeypie” 

You let the use of that horrid nickname slide once again with only a roll of your eyes. You’d never admit that it maybe made you smile, something you’ll deny vehemently when he inevitably brings it up later.  But for now at least it’s ok. 

You’re both gonna be ok.

“Hey Dante?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s good to be back”

…….“good to have you back hon-“

“Finish that sentence and I’ll make you sign all the work orders required to fix this place”

[fandoms-in-law]

Wrong Twice Over

Summary: Eddie adopts Dustin immediately because he's mentioned in his soulmate words.Once he hears them though, he just wishes he hadn't discounted someones likelihood of being his soulmate and needs to make it right.

~

Eddie had never told Dustin but from the time the kid had introduced himself, he’d had a place in Eddie’s life. He was mostly thankful that the brat liked DnD so keeping him around wasn’t a hardship at all.

The reason for that were the six words on his knee, the first words Eddie’s soulmate would ever say to him, that mentioned Dustin specifically. Somehow the kid was a connection to them and he didn’t intend to let that pass.

With Lucas and Mike, he’d breathed a sigh of a relief when neither of them said the words, though he definitely hadn’t given them the chance to do so and make sense. It was just better that whomever his soulmate was wasn’t a child.

So far only a week into the new school year had passed, and while Dustin had pointed out a couple of other seniors as people who’d help him, neither of them seemed likely to care if the kid said something right or wrong.

The last person in what Eddie thought was a reasonable age range to be his soulmate was too absurd to even consider as being it: King Steve Harrington himself.

There was no chance that someone like that could be anything to him at all, even if Dustin spoke as if he was a hero.

With those thoughts in mind, Eddie had no worries when greeting his unexpected visitor with, “Well if it isn’t the king coming with threats over something.”

Steve had looked like he actually could have threats given he was holding a few pages of notes out and had gotten out of his car looking like he was on a mission.

Once the words were said though he froze, staring at Eddie and dropping the pages on the ground before seeming heartbroken and turning away. “Well that’s Dustin wrong twice over.” Was all that was said as he vanished back to his car and sped away again.

Now Eddie was frozen, knowing the sentence too well and stunned. He’d expected it to be a joke, or to be something shared flirtatiously, but instead the soulmate words he’d cherished had been hurt and upset. It broke something in him to know he’d somehow been around his soulmate in school for so long yet their first actual interaction had been so negative in the end.

Resolving to figure out how to apologise he picked the pages up and looking them over only felt worse. There were lists and lists on them, things that the new members of Hellfire would struggle with facing in a campaign as well as vague or scribbled out reasons why he should avoid them.

It looked like Steve might’ve even asked someone for help with the list since there were three handwriting styles on the page, some giving ideas for what could be done instead of the things listed, others changing his explanations for why they needed avoiding.

He didn’t know what Dustin had been wrong about, but Eddie definitely felt like he’d been wrong multiple times over about Steve and anything he’d been doing.

At least he knew for certain that he had to make it right again.

~

“Dustin! Need your help!” Eddie called, late to get to the Hellfire table for lunch and focused on the first thing he hoped could be done.

“Better find someone else to help then.” Dustin replied, turning and glaring at him venomously.

Mike also glared, while the rest of the table looked between them in confusion. “Yeah, you don’t do that shit and then ask for favours.”

Eddie looked between them, glancing around to see Lucas staring, expression controlled, where he sat with the basketball team and hopefuls wanting to try out. “I want to apologise. That’s what I’m asking for your help with.” He pulled out the letter he’d written, holding it towards the younger students.

“Why? Because you realised that high school isn’t everything even though you were preaching that all last week?” Dustin snapped. “He literally wanted me to be right. Said he’d try to help when Mike worried at movie night and believed that you’d be cool. We all did. So fuck you, whatever apology you’ve got I’m checking first.”

A throat was cleared behind him before Eddie could reply. “As will I, and all of you better hope it’s good enough.” A band student stood there, arms crossed and eyes hard as she looked over Corroded Coffin. “You spend your life making big statements and gestures so maybe try that this time. I’m taking this now.” She plucked the pages from his hands

“Robin! I need to check that!” Dustin protested, standing to follow her.

Mike rolled his eyes as they both walked away. “She means it. If there’s someone going to raise hell for Steve it’s Buckley and then Dustin. But if that was a letter for him then it’ll get to him.”

“An apology and a thank you. He dropped a list I think he wanted to talk to me about when he came round. I’m glad I have it and wish I hadn’t spoken as I did, though I thought it was just teasing.” Eddie explained, sitting down at the table as he didn’t feel the need for a speech that day.

“What do we have to do with whatever happened?” Gareth asked, looking at the freshman curiously.

Mike sighed as if it was obvious. “Band students sometimes work with the drama kids, so if she talks to the drama teacher where are we going to play? Though I think Nancy might have to get involved to manage that so I will try to avoid it happening.”

“She’d go after a club you’re part of?” Jeff asked, sceptical.

“The party sticks together. We’d accept it if Dustin decides not enough is done.” Lucas says coming over to the table, now looking amused and a glance back to the basketball group showed Robin and Dustin reading over the pages and debating just behind them. “But it sounds like you’ve made a good enough start. Just need to put some actions behind whatever you’ve written.”

The older students exchanged looks, “What party? You mean like in a campaign?”

“Close enough.” The younger pair agreed.

For the rest of lunch conversation moved back to various classes and goals for the year, but Eddie was watching where Dustin and Robin had seemingly come to a conclusion, his apology getting folded into Robin’s pocket.

~

Steve didn’t make an attempt to reach out to Eddie after getting the letter. Dustin calmed down now his initial annoyance had passed, but it was clear not everything had been forgiven.

Soulmates were meant to be perfect for each other, so despite all the ideas based on what Eddie had known of Steve that meant he acted differently, he tried to focus on things he wanted to do to apologise.

Making a character in a campaign would only work if it was one where they got Steve into the school to play, so that couldn’t happen immediately. Writing a song would also only work if Steve allowed it too, and accepted an invitation to the Hideout to see it performed, since Eddie was never going to risk arrest by playing it outside the mansion in Loch Nora.

“Time’s ticking, Munson. Are you going to make a move?” Buckley asked, waiting at his locker when a couple of weeks had passed since he’d sent the apology.

He turned, smiling at her, “Wish I could. Don’t know where to find him and am a little concerned over getting the wrath of his parents if I just turned up on his doorstep to beg forgiveness.”

“We work at Family Video. He gets the early shift during the week so either skip school to see him or come in on the weekend.” She huffed as if this was something he should’ve know. “And those assholes are never in town. I could move in and they’d never realise.”

“Lonely life.” He commented before thinking about it and looking shrewdly at her, “How often do you hang out at his and would you mind if I crashed an evening?”

Robin smirked at him, “Now you’re getting it. Talk to us instead of stewing in that head of yours. This week I’ll be there Tuesday night and Thursday. Entire party will be there on Friday so avoid it unless you know you’re a hundred percent serious over Steve, not just your soulmate.”

“Tuesday night, then. I’ll bring pizza and something sugary.” He decided.

She nodded in allowance of that but, as she turned to leave, added “And something in case he has a migraine. I heard weed can help.”

~

Steve held the door open but didn’t move out of the way of it as he stared at Eddie. “Hi, Munson, erm, are you okay?”

“Fantastic. A birdie told me you’re hanging out tonight and I offered to bring pizza so I could hopefully apologise in person?” Eddie grinned hopefully, but knew his eyes showed the internal wince when he mentioned their last interaction.

“Okay, um, come in. I did get your letter, you know. You don’t need to do anything more.” He replied, stepping back, still looking uncomfortable.

Eddie clicked his tongue, “I have to argue with you there, Harrington. I definitely need to do more, not because we’re soulmates but because you’re apparently the sweetest guy around who keeps lists of things a bunch of kids I can’t figure out your connection to need to avoid in a game it sounds like you never play. I judged you for someone I should have seen you no longer were and that need plenty of pizza apologies.”

“We, basically all of us have similar things we need to avoid.” Steve muttered, but led the way through to his living room where Robin was stretched out over one sofa.

“Munson, come in! Tell us about your day.” She called, gesturing around the room as if it was her own.

He laughed, collapsing onto the other sofa, “What do you want to know?”

“What the shitheads got up to and if they’re planning any chaos for us.” She answered easily.

Steve shook his head, moving to sit on Robin’s sofa, easily accepting it when her feet were placed in his lap. “They’re always planning chaos, if they’re not in deadly situations.”

With that the conversation flowed easily between them and Eddie began to hope that even if he’d messed up meeting his soulmate they could become something wonderful with time, and apparently, with Robin there too. He didn’t need to see Steve with her for long to know there wouldn’t be any separating those friends.

A rocky beginning can still become a great story.

[solidcarbondioxide]

I'd like to point out that even for "tech savvy" people, technology is becoming more and more inaccessible. Trying to navigate all the pre-installed bloatware to find what's necessary and what isn't is becoming nigh impossible for the average person, and googling it doesn't always help.

My laptop from 2016 died and I needed a new one. Tell me why of the 1TB of storage it has, about 150GB were taken up upon first start-up? And when you open control panel [which, not everyone even knows what that is anymore] to delete the bloatware, it doesn't show anything that takes up that much space.

Knowing how to make a clean install of windows isn't something most people know how to do, and even people who are at least slightly technologically aware, might be wary of messing with Windows for warranty/Windows key reasons or what not. The more predatory technology becomes, the more difficult it becomes even for people who try to stay on top of it. "Yeah, I can look up how to do it, and understand what it says, but there are so many ways it could go wrong, and I can't afford another device" is an absolutely valid fear, and if even someone who does know what the tech lingo means is unwilling to mess with it, how can the average user?

[No, I don't want to hear how it's easy because you can do it through an ISO, or because it's only the first install that can't be clean and afterwards the key is bound to your Microsoft account. The average, kinda-sorta-maybe tech literate person won't touch that because tech is expensive and not everyone can try it out on an old laptop that doesn't work anymore to make sure they know wtf they're doing. So they'll remove what they can, sigh, and live with the rest.]

My dad's laptop recently threw a BIOS error and loaded up with the requirement for a BitLocker key. His laptop, in fact, most peoples laptops, have no need for that kind of security, and most people won't know that their computer has it activated until it throws an error. If the error hadn't occurred while I was there, there is no way in hell he could have figured out how to find the key, because he wasn't even aware this key exists. I wasn't even aware my laptop had BitLocker activated until his showed that error, because its either not mentioned anywhere, or hidden in the multi-page agreements that you need to accept before being allowed access to "your" device.

And guess what? If this reaches anyone, somewhere out there is someone who considers themselves "tech savvy", who has just found out their new device has BitLocker activated, and they're trying to figure out how to find the BitLocker key because no one told them this exists or that they may want to know how to find it. (Go to aka.ms/myrecoverykey, sign in to the Microsoft account linked to the device, look for the key that corresponds to the first 8 letters/numbers of the Recovery key ID on the device)

And if you followed one of those helpful guides on how to force a local account onto your lovely new win11 device? I hope you also went and found a lovely guide on how to find your BitLocker key/how to de-encrypt your device, cuz guess what? You see that blue screen and your files are gone. (Well, there are ways around it but again, they're not exactly the easiest of methods, definitely not something the average user could manage)

Sure, it's a safety feature, but it's unnecessary for most and should be an opt-in, not a "find out when shit hits the fan"

The more predatory technology becomes, the harder it becomes to be technologically literate.

I was lucky, my first proper device was a Windows 7 that required some tech literacy but was for the most part user friendly, I didn't love the switch to Windows 10 because it became harder to to find the more complex settings, but I learned most of my tech skills on it, moving to Windows 11 and seeing the "simplified, user friendly, easy setup" interface that makes accessing things harder and actively hides settings from the user? It still grates my nerves. I still have issues with the audio settings of all things because for some stupid reason apps set to 0 still produce noise and the slider moves up by 1-5 points automatically. I've pinned the windows 10 volume mixer to my windows 11 devices task bar because I cannot tolerate the windows 11 one and its bs.

Technology becoming "user friendly and easy to navigate" has, in a lot of cases, actually made it harder to understand. I did not get taught what I know about technology at school. I learnt it on my own, because I grew up with tech that still allowed it.

Yes, schools should still be teaching the basics of technology, but at some point we need to realise that technology has become much more inaccessible too.

And that's only the software side of things. Why does all of my laptops RAM come soldered now? Why does opening my device up to clean it void the warranty? Why does the number of ports keep decreasing?

Anyway, this has gotten longer than I wanted, so I'm going to say this one more time and end it there.

Technology has become easier to use on the surface and harder to understand beyond that. Users are being kept away from "settings they may not understand", and it makes it significantly harder to learn as a result.

Me: oh yeah, if you think school photography is hard now, try imagining doing this with film.

The new girl: what's film?

Me: ... film. Like... film that goes in a film camera.

New girl: what's that mean?

Me: ... before cameras were digital.

New girl: how did you do it before digital?

Me:... with film? I haven't had enough coffee for this conversation

[pearlescentparade]

OK PL SENDING MOINE IM GLAD I HAD IT PRE TYPED .

Noobador fluff request where player just has to relearn how to fight after chapter 3 because the ghostwalker weakened them a ton.. so they just.. go to Noobador while embarrassed about it. bantering ouuuhhhhhh.... Maybe some resting and focus on self-care..

-🍙

on your feet 🥊 noobador x reader fluff 💝

your linked sword weighs heavy in your hand.

almost like you haven't picked it up for a long time. but you know well that that's not the case, it couldn't be, you literally just used it in the battle for the ghostwalker.. you've swung it with ease ever since you embarked on this journey up until you collected that sword, at that point it was like an extension of your arm with how well it worked in tandem with you.

and yet, it now felt like it had the weight of the world, pulling your aching arms downward to the floor. it almost strains them.

the makeshift training dummy looks down on you, pitiful. if it could come alive, it'd laugh its straw stuffing out at you. the damn thing looks just about untouched, anyone would've thought that you only started training now if they happened to walk in right at this moment. but it's been an hour, and you've barely dented it with anything that somewhat resembles a scratch.

nevertheless, you brace yourself to take another shot. deep down, you're more than aware that it's foolish of you to keep trying when you know it won't work. but even deeper down, there's that tiny sliver of naive hope that a miracle will occur, that you'll cut down that stupid dummy and prove to yourself that you're fine.

despite your shaking hands, you steady your legs and raise the sword as best as you can (said best being slightly above your navel) to cut the dummy down. you swallow down your saliva, your doubt, to heal your dry and tight throat. your eyes, aflame with resolution, fix on your target, viciously glaring at it through your brows. the goofy eyes drawn on its paper bag head innocently reciprocate the stare.

down comes your blade, with all of your strength put behind it. and in that mighty swing...

the sword lightly drags diagonally across the dummy's torso.

it doesn't even pierce the fiber of its skin of sack. you basically just tenderly caressed it like it was your lover.

your eye twitches. you aggressively exhale, like a bull seeing red.

frustrated, you simply drop the sword, carelessly letting the metal clatter on the ground. you would've thrown it, but your arms are screaming at you enough. they seem to calm down now that you've let go, though.

you sigh, the unfortunate truth dawning on you: you're not in the condition to fight or continue on your quest. but what are you to do if not that?? it's been some time since you've done anything that didn't pertain to your quest.

...as sad as it sounded, you could really use a friend. what was the saying, misery enjoys company? yea, you'd love some of that right now, because you're downright miserable. and besides, speaking in terms of street smarts, it's always smart to be with someone you trust if you're vulnerable.

but who?

griefer is the absolute last person you want to see in this state, immediate no. he'd probably hiss at and make fun of you, and it'd piss you off more because you wouldn't be able to beat him up at the moment and it'd only make him laugh at you more.

you couldn't bear to bother kyoko when she's out exploring. besides, you don't really know where she is. for all you know, she could be towns away! the spontaneous nature of adventurers...

red and blue will tire you out for a fact. they're good kids, but they're kids. they will not let you have peace.

out of everyone, only one person really appeals to you as the best to go to.

or, he did at the time.

but now that you're standing face to face with him, you can't help but feel a bit ashamed of your state. despite having finished fighting a non-sentient and still object that had absolutely no way of damaging you, you look just as poor as you feel: disheveled hair, dirty clothing, and every limb quivering. and though noobador literally answers the door in a loose tank top and sweats, he looks miles beyond proper compared to you.

"...it's you."

noobador's eyes widen ever so slightly upon seeing you at his front door as he states the obvious. it makes you shrink even further into yourself than you already are, avoiding any possible eye contact with him as you mindlessly twiddle with your fingers.

was now not a good time? he doesn't sound particularly ecstatic to see you.. no, are you serious? it's just you, he doesn't owe you an excited greeting, don't be so full of yourself- maybe he's tired. or just stunned. you don't look too good, it's probably that. yea, you'd be shocked if you saw yourself too.

"..yeah. it is." your ears feel warm as you breathlessly mutter, borderline inaudible. meanwhile, your eyes find the hinges of his door incredibly captivating. how wonderfully brassy and rusted they are. oh my, they look recently oiled. yes, much more interesting than the man standing in front of you.

noobador takes one glance over at your shaking form, scrutinizing, as if carefully considering how he should approach you. then, he leans in and holds a hand up behind his ear to block out all other noise. "whaaatt? i can't hear you if you're gonna murmur, kid."

at the first chance he gets to tease you, noobador pounces for it, the sound of a smirk weaseling its way into his tone. you're funny like this, he thinks. it's not usually in his nature to torment others, but it's not usually in yours to be so skittish, so cut him some slack.

you squint up at him, looking directly at him. finally, noobador thinks.

"i- just repeated what you said, you don't need to hear it louder!" luckily for you, noobador's lighthearted mocking reminds you to be casual. part of your anxiety quells as you scowl at him. on the other hand, you're only growing more upset when he simply laughs. though you suppose you can't be too mad, given that you're not shaking like a twig anymore.

he then leans on the doorframe, quirking a curious brow with the intention of getting down to business. "well? you need something? i'm not too keen on having a staring contest on my porch all day."

huffing, you roll your eyes, "yea, i was getting to that." after taking a moment to mentally prepare yourself, you exhale. "okay, this might be kinda out of the blue, but can i please just chill in your place? i.. i need a break and i j- uagh!"

abruptly, noobador's large hand pushes you inside by your back, and you stumble over your feet a little from the force. before you can whip around to squabble with him again, he's already moving to the kitchen, leaving you standing in his living room dumbfounded.

"make yourself at home. red and blue should be out for most of the day, so we won't be having any disturbances." his gruff voice still rings clear, even when muted slightly from the next room over.

any witty remarks you wanted to make die on your tongue, as you sit on the couch in resigned defeat. from what you've seen of him, noobador is that 'what i say, goes' type, so it really shouldn't surprise you at this point. though, when you're the boss and parent of two children, it's impossible to not be a bit pushy.

what does surprise you is how unbelievably soft this couch is. despite its somewhat worn appearance making it look like it was picked off of the side of the road, you can't help but sink yourself deeper into it. you bring your legs up and lay on your side, nuzzling your head on a pillow next to the arm of the couch.

now that you're resting, the exhaustion creeps onto your feeble body, even more so with your newfound weakness. you could almost fall asleep right here.. and your heavy, drooping eyelids definitely agree.

"taking 'make yourself at home' a bit literally, aren't we?" you immediately jolt up. or, would've- if not for noobador's hand once again playing an unstoppable force and pushing you back to laying down. as fast as you got up, you're back down, square one.

with his other hand, noobador gently sets down a steaming cup on his coffee table with a light clink. "woah- take it easy, kid. i'm just messing with ya. sleep on my couch all you want, i don't care."

when he sees your curious eyes naturally draw to the cup, he elaborates, "oh, this? 's green tea. what, you want some??" you nod, a little too enthusiastically. with the terrible day you've had, noobador almost snorts at how your eyes practically light up.

but noobador brings his hand over the top of the cup and scoots it closer to himself, safeguarding his rightfully-earned pick-me-up. "then get up and go make some yourself, since you're so comfortable now." you shoot him a deadly glare, narrowing your eyes. what was the point of offering, then?! and how evil, to tell you to get up when your body has basically already thrown in the towel..!

he holds your gaze for a short while, before he huffs amusedly, deciding he's had his healthy dose of poking fun of you today anyway. "fine, ya got me. it's for you. don't get any on my couch or i'll knock you out."

he moves to carefully hand it to you. clearly experienced and traumatized from his own kids, he takes the liberty of warning you about the scorching bottom and facing the handle towards you so as to encourage you to hold the cup from there.

"yea, yea.. thanks."

you bring it to your face and lightly blow, before cautiously sipping. a rush of warmth seeps into your bones and blooms in your blood, and you can't fight smiling against the rim of the cup. even if it's a placebo effect tricking your mind, you'd like to think it's helping you regain some of your strength back.

noobador lays back against the couch. "you young punks sure like to throw yourselves in danger, huh? hardly my age, but doing double my work.. you'll get wrinkles earlier, going on like that."

you pout, "eww, i'm not gonna get wrinkly like you.. it's just this lil hiccup and i'll be back in business!"

"even small injuries can flare up into something bigger. take it from me," a reminiscent look glosses over his eyes, no doubt thinking back to his own moments of carelessness. and there's lots to spare, with the years of experience he's had.

"wow~ inspirational," you snicker, completely unserious. but you're listening, peering at the side of his head as you take another long sip.

he groans, bringing his hands up to rub his temples. "just take care of yourself, kid. 'cause nobody's gonna do it for you."

"really? 'cause you are." the mental image of noobador constantly looking after you like some kind of housewife makes you giggle. if only! you'd take breaks waaaaay more often.

he suddenly slaps his hands on his knees and pushes off of them to get up. "what i'm hearing is that you don't want anymore tea."

wildly, you gasp, crying after him as he walks off into a different room. "what- noo! fine, you're right! i'm sooorryyy, come backk!!" your hand half-heartedly reaches out for his back, before you let it fall on the arm of the sofa.

though it doesn't take long before noobador is back, this time with a comically huge and thick blanket in his hands. did he get that from his bedroom...?

before you can comment, he throws it on you, immediately engulfing you in fluffy darkness. while you vehemently fight to find the exit, grappling and tussling underneath the blanket, you can hear his haughty laugh from outside of your prison. jerk.

by the time you pop your head out, he's already reclaiming his seat next to you. "there. now you can get your precious beauty sleep."

"and what about my pillow?"

he rolls his eyes, mutters under his breath about how 'spoiled' you are, then stretches out his arm behind your head. you grin in victory, laying your head back against his firm muscle. you are spoiled, but he indulges you, so who's really to blame here?

surrounded by warmth, everything begins to feel heavy again. fuzz coalesces in your senses, and before you drift off, you think you feel yourself being pulled towards another warm body.

(parade postscript: exams aint got SHIT ON ME oooff this one turned out way longer than i intended in classic pp fashion but can you blame a writer for liking writing!!!!!)

[yandere-sins]

The Octopodes' Tale - Prologue

Yan-Poll #40 #MerMay 2025 Special Prev. Part

My, my! I was surprised to hear you were going to look after my 'pet'! Who would have thought that your next journey would lead you to us?

I, for one, am happy it did.

What, surprised? Well, I never said witches don't need help from humans. We just prefer not to, surely, you understand that, right? We are mostly independent, after all. It's our job to give you guidance, not the other way around. You didn't need my help much last time, but maybe this time you will? Let me know if you are unsure where to go, and I'll be willing to help you... for a smile fee. After all, you'll take care of my beloved mate for me, won't you? We are in a little predicament, so surely you won't abandon us, right?

I could tell you so much about my beloved. My Leo is the most pure-hearted, sweetest male in all of the ocean! He likes to dance for me and put up displays of color, catch me food while I work, and hug me for hours sometimes until I put him back in his place. So make sure to feed him his food directly by hand—that's how he likes it! I know his tongue can be sharp, but I promise he'd never bite off a finger. I would know; I trained him, after all. Oh! If you scratch his back, he will give you little hickies! It's the most adorable thing! I love him so much!

Of course, I'd prefer it if you'd return him to me... it's been so lonely without him. He can be quite a needy leech if he likes you, but he's the sweetest little male I have ever met. We spent so many years in harmonic togetherness, his absence has been truly sorrowful. Now that I can't reach him, I don't even know if he's keeping his tentacles at bay. Hopefully, no one has taken off his restraints; make sure to check that! As you know, we octopuses die easily upon mating, so you must always keep that in check. For you, he's just a test subject.

But he's my whole life.

If something were to happen to him, I wouldn't know what I would do. We are meant for each other, you understand? So whatever you do, try to keep him alive, alright? You don't often find a well-trained pet like him, so he can be quite valuable! And I need him like you need air to breathe.

Maybe you should think about returning him to me instead of doing your silly little experiments. We could both benefit from it. I may have what the facility wants you to find, and you have what I want. What do you say?

However you decide, I hope you know what you're doing. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you, right?

But I trust you, I know you'll make the right choice. You are a smart human, aren't you?

I can't wait for you.

And with that: welcome back to MerMay!!

Yes, my favorite month of the year, and well, I have two very interesting specimen for you this time, although it depends on your choices if you're meeting them both (which I truly hope!) or suffer at the hands of the facility like all the others. At least, you won't be alone (;

It'll be almost the same game as last time!

At the end of each chapter, you'll get to make a choice which can either progress the story or lead to a bad end. Mind you, there are no secret routes or choice combinations you need to make. One path goes forward, the others are more or less literally "game overs". So, choose wisely! However, as she has some personal agenda, this particular sea witch from above will help you reach the end of the story if you make a wrong choice, and sometimes, bad ends are still interesting and full of information! I wouldn't blame you for choosing them :D

At this point of time, I have not plotted the story to its fullest, so... length may vary. But I plan to just go as far as I possibly can to make a fulfilling story (:

One thing is different: Polls will only be three days (and I will post as soon as I have a new part). I want to make the most use of yan-polls, stories, and this month, so with the new option to shorten the length, I decided to reduce it to three days instead of seven. Hope everyone gets to vote even with the shortened timespan!

Warnings ahead:

This story revolves around heavy sexual themes (Non-/Dub-Con, Talking about Pregnancy, Mating, Breeding, Eggs/Ovipositor, Tentacles, Dom/Sub Themes, etc.) and violent themes (Possible Major and Minor Character Death, Blood, Biting, Murder, Fighting, Licking (yes that is an actual violent act this time), Guns & Shooting, etc.). Also: both love interests are yandere, meaning the following themes are included: Possessive/Obsessive Behavior, Stalking, Kidnapping, Overall Crazyness, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Mental Breakdowns, etc. And the very last point: The mermaids are monsters, as such beware of Tentacles, Beaks, Sharp Teeth, Teethed Tongues, Animalistic Behaviors, Claws, Monster Anatomy, Monster Behavior, Toxin, and also Witchcraft.

Please always read the warnings on each individual post and stay away if they are not your cup of tea!

If you have questions, please feel free to ask. I appreciate comments, asks, and responses always ♥

I will have fun, and I hope you guys will, too! ♥

Happy MerMay and Happy Choosing! ♥

[midnightcake5]

I'm Not Him | One Shot

Ghost x FReader x Soap

Word:

TW: Death, Bomb, Car cash, Alcohol

so this base on dream i had and supposed be just throw away idea turn but into a fic (my first ever fic) and I don't had plan to continue it most becase I'm not to confident to do so (yet) and also where to take, so you folk had my permission to continue or rewritten the story if you like just give me credit if you do, please and thank you.

Anyway, thank you for reading.

"Come on, Y/N. The map says we are close." I am huffing and puffing, trying to catch up to Jenna, who is practically skipping this point. "Girl, slow down please, im begging you," I whine. "I'm literally holding ten bags and some of them are yours, may I add" She spun around. "Oh shit sorry, I forgot" She took some of her bags making me a little bit lighter. "thank you" I sigh in relief. "again I'm sorry, I'm just so excited, we are finally here, in London, can you believe it?" she said energetically. "I can, I am right here looking at it right now," I said nonchalantly but I'd be lying I'm not excited as well, as I looked around the streets and some of tall build and people walking by us, I couldn't even believe myself that we are here, it took us 3 years to save up and in those 3 years it was rough Jenna got let go for her job, well I was getting last shifts at work but we manage through. Jenna got a better job and I, well I did some odd jobs here or there but at the end of the day everything worked out at the end, standing here carrying five shopping that weights me down, the pain coming from my feet as we walk down the street of the town, The street lamp being turn on as the sun is setting down I feel proud of what we able to accomplish together and to myself. "ah there is" she point, I look where she point at. "A pub? You know I don't drink," I questioned her, but she looked at me with her bright smile. "I know, but the review said it was the best place to get fish n chips." "Well," I quickened my step. "I hope you're right because I'm starving."

When we open the wooden doors, a little bell chimes, alerting the bartender. "Ah, welcome, welcome! What can I get you pretty ladies?" we walked to the bar counter and finally sat down and Jenna began to speak to the bartender. "I hear you guys serve the best fish n chips in London" "That we do, that we do, for two of I'm guessing?" As he grabs his pen and flipnote. "Yes, please!" Janne said excitedly. "Oh alright then," he walked out of the bar counter to presumably give our orders to the kitchen. As we waited, I took in the atmosphere of the bar, it was cozy and rustic and had tons of knick-knacks, there were of few people here but nothing too cowered, not yet anyway. The bartender came back to the bar counter and he said. "Do ladies want any to drink as you wait?" "Beer, please," Jenna answered. "And pop, please," I said. "Oh alrighty" he turned his back to pour the beer. "im guessing you lovely ladies are tourists?" he asked. "Yup, from the great white north," Jenna said proudly he turned back to us to give Jenna her beer. "oh, Canadian eh" he teased as he grabbed my pop below the bar and hand to me. "it always nice seeing you people come to visit," he said. "Oi Jim, I need another pint!" shouted the customer. "I have been there in a sec!" the bartender shouted back. "I've been back with your guy's food later," and he walks to the end of the bar counter.

Jenna took a sip of her beer and made this questionable look. "Is everything ok?" I asked. "yeah, I just had better beers" she looked a little disappointed. "better-tasting shit out there" I joked she chunks a little before saying. "look who talking Little Miss I need five spoons of sugar and half a gallon of milk to drink a cup of coffee" she tese. "said little miss I got no taste buds" I tease back. "ok little miss I-" she stopped. "is everything all right Jenna?" I ask worriedly. "yeah I think all that walking finally caught up to me," she said as she sat up from the barstool. "im going to the washroom can you watch for my drink for me?" she asked I grab her beer and brings it close to my chest and said. "with my life" in a fake serious tone she giggles and brings to walk to the bathroom. While I was waiting for her to come back or our food, I began to look around a bit till I noticed, well, more like heard a man who was loudly talking, I looked. There were two men at the end of the bar counter, one was wearing a black hoodie and black face mask he just holding his drink and silently listened to the other men who had a mohawk and assumed to be Scottish or maybe Irish (I never could tell them apart a part) that is loudly chatting to men with the mask while swinging his drink like a magic wand as he tells his tale. "Oi, you should have seen his face! When I sucked him right in his fucking jaw Si" The man with mask, si, just simply nod and said. "serve him right" in a low rough voice. "AYE that I said to my sister but nooo she goes defending his arse by saying "he was just joking" or "You have to be the bigger person" All rubbish I say," he said.

I continue to eavesdrop on their conversation till I hear a woman shout. "LOOK OUT!" I turn around instinctively to see a white van through the window of the pub coming towards us. I got up the fastest I could ever while still holding a beer, but didn't get out crash zone in time, as the van crashed through the wooden door and windows. Made my side body hit the side of the bar counter. Instantly screw my eyes shut for impending pain but all I hear is gasp and breaking glass and I open my eyes slowly to see the damage not too bad as look down on my body im still standing up. I bar counter still holding the beer in my hand. Then the pain starts, more so on my left leg. I look down to see my leg sandwiched between the front wheels of the van and the bar counter. Before I could even try to get out. I saw Jenna run out of the bathroom and look in horror when she saw me and the van next to me, and she shouted. "OH MY GOD, ARE YOU OKAY!?" I look at her and weakly smile. "I don't know, but I save your beer!" I said proudly and raised the beer above my head. Jenna looked less horrified but still worried. She began to walk to me but stopped by Si. There was silence for just sec and in those seconds I heard it. A ticking noise from the van. Then he yelled. "EVERYONE GET OUT OF BUILT NOW," and with that,t everybody starts racing to exit. I try to run too, but to my horror, my leg is stuck. Jenna noticed too and try to go off to help me but got grabbed by Si. "what the fuck think you are doing?!" he ask in a harsh tone. "she stuck, I need to help her!" she panic. Si looked at me with the darkest brown eyes I have ever seen, and looked back at Jenna and said quietly, "Leave her." Jenna yelled. "WHAT?! and then the man with a mohawk steps in. "what the fuck Si?!" as Si practically drags Jenna to the exit. "there isn't enough time!" he yells. "Fuck that! I help her," the man with a mohawk yells back and runs towards me. Si scream. "JOHNNY!" " I will be fine Si!, go help the other!" Johnny shouted back as he tried to pull my leg out of this death trap im in. Si just stood there for a second but snapped out and pulled Jenna and headed for the exit. "it okay lass, I'm going get you out here" as Johnny continues to try to pull me out, I could only respond is. "okay" I'm trying my hardest not show I am panicking right now, so I distracted myself by looking down at Johnny, I didn't notice how muscular he was and sure did saw it when I was eavesdropping but it looks more pronounced up close. I got ripped out of my ogling by bone-breaking pain. Johnny finally pulled out my leg. Before I tried to attempt to run on my broken leg, Johnny instantly picked me up and put me over his back like I weighed a potato sack, then again, I should've been surprised. He ran towards the exit, we were so close but yet so far away. I saw a bright light, then I felt the heat and then darkness.

I opened my eyes to see darkness around me, and there was little light, like stars, and I was floating in mid-air. I kind of just floated to let it sink in, and then it hit me like a baseball bat. The sorrow, the anger, the fear, and finally, confusion, all of it, hit me at once, the emotions I should have expressed during my last moment, but didn't. I already knew I was likely dead, but didn't stop feeling for flowing in, all I could think about was how upset my family would be, especially my mom, I could already hear my mom's wails at hearing her baby was dead. Then I started thinking about Jenna, my roommate, my best friend, god, I know she will think this is her fault, but it wasn't, hell, she was willingly risking her own life just to help me before Si stopped her, and I'm glad he did. Then think about the men who try to save me. Johnny was his name, is the guy feels upset about most, knowing im the one that caused his death, all because he wanted to help me, but selfishly, im glad he did because I didn't die alone, but im alone now in this space like a vortex. I floated there in my own pity party for a good ten in till I felt something tug me. I looked down, and there were strings or strands looping around my waist and tugging toward something. I kind of just accepted it at this point because im already dead, so worse can get (well, maybe hell). Also, im a bit curious where this will go. So keep tugging me close and close to something glowing, and the closer I got, the more it shaped like a person, till I had to shut my eyes, how bright it got.

The brightness finally died down, so I opened my eyes to see a cell light, and what I could see in the corner of my eyes, is a heart monitor and an IV fluid. So, from observation, I survived from the explosion and am recovering in the hospital. Then felt something squeezing my hand, and I looked down to see Si holding my hand with both of his. he looked so tense and pitiful. He finally looked up at me, something I noticed he was still wearing the same black face mask but a different hoodie, a green one, and I could see a spike of blonde hair under his hood. "Johnny," he said softly as he placed my hand on the side of his face. I was a bit confused till I saw my arm, it had more muscle, and there tattoo on my forearm. This isn't my arm, this isn't my body, this is Johnny.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Okay, I am finally able to settle down and read part 2 and I am so excited!!

Again, I really love the soft reader in this fic. She's lovely and kind and there's just something about her that's so endearing that it makes me want to give her a big hug. 💚

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

I'm melting over her reassurance to Dean that she doesn't regret a single second! And the kiss had me screaming!

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

As someone who loves to bake I felt this in my soul. Also I love that you've given us another reader like the reader in Midnight Espresso who likes to take care of other people, because again it's so warm and welcoming and fantastic!

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

Dean, Dean, Dean... you know why. We all know why.

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

I'm so happy at this point, but I just know that Lisa is probably gonna ruin it. Dang it, I love that you included her to cause some friction and some angst, but I'm just living life on the edge of my emotions each time she comes in.

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

And there she is. Why, WHY did he bring her!

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

Now I feel bad because I read the next sentence about Lisa being nice. Lisa I'm so sorry. Please accept this potato as my humble apology. 🥔

A large, warm hand rests over yours. Your gaze raises slowly, and Benny smiles at you. He’s serious though. “Don’t you worry about that,” he says. “You’re not gonna be alone.”

Okay... before I dive into the five years later, I just want to say that I feel so bad for Dean, but at the same time you GO Benny! Because he's being so sweet and kind and isn't playing with her emotions, and he's literally there for her even though she's having someone else's kid. Like what a man. 👏🏻

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

Literally screaming yes! I'm so happy for them. And also I love the Robert Plant reference.

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

Oh buddy... and just like that the happy feeling is starting to ebb away. I mean I'm happy that she has someone, but I hate that she feels like she can't be herself there. It turns into feeling trapped really quick.

Side Note: Love the Jurassic Park reference. I know that you're as big a Jurassic Park girlie as I am!! 🦖

But it's also terrible that he let a four year old watch that 😬

“And she seems happy,” Lisa points out. “Don’t you want the mother of your kid to be with a good man who treats her right?” He nods, trying to hide his growing annoyance. “‘Course I do. I just…I don’t know. I still don’t see them together, I guess.” “Well, they’ve been together for like, two years.”

Baby, he wants to be the good man who treats her right. And don't think I don't see the subtle hinting that you've got going on Lisa. I'm about to take back my potato.

Lisa takes his hands in hers, uncrossing his arms. “I want to get married someday. I want kids too. And I want that kind of life with you…I’m just not sure you want it with me.” Dean expels a heavy sigh. “Lis—” “Don’t answer me right now,” she says, but she levels him with a serious look. “You need to decide though, Dean. Five years is long enough. You should know by now if you want to be with me.”

Dang it. Now I feel bad for Lisa. It's true though. It's literally five years of on and off and where is it going? I see what she's getting at and I do feel for her.

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

Ah yes, the classic Dean Winchester get mad at other things because he's too afraid to say the one big thing that he's held close to his heart for the past 5 years. *sigh* 😒

It's sad to me because Dean could have done this five years ago and it would have been less complicated. Now he's been with Lisa for 5 years, and the reader has been with Benny for 2. And yes maybe the reader isn't happy, happy, but in the end there are four people involved in this rather than the two it could have been at the beginning (or maybe 3?).

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

Oh my word he's such a good dad to Robbie even when he's hurt and I can't take the feelings! 😭

And the fact that Benny calls Dean "brother" is just making the feelings even worse, because I know what's coming and oh man, it's gonna hurt Benny so much.

“Maybe if you and Dean stayed together longer than five minutes at a time, he’d put you back on the short list,” you sling back. “But the truth is, you’ve never just…been there for Dean. Not without demanding something from him.” Lisa scoffs incredulously. “Oh, that’s fucking rich coming from you. You’re the reason he can’t commit to anything. You think your little world is the only one that matters, and you call Dean for any little thing! What, don’t you have a boyfriend to help fix your goddamn sink?” 

Oh boy... this is... this is really... I have no words because both of them have points. But I would still like my potato back, thank you very much.

He has to be okay with the fact that you’ll probably marry Benny. You’ll keep making him cookies and cakes, giving him your smile and your time and your body. And Robbie will probably think of Benny as more of a father than his own Weekend Dad.  Meanwhile, you’ve spent the past few months keeping yourself in check as well. You’ve stopped calling Dean for help whenever something breaks down in your old-ass apartment. You try to keep your conversations less about life and troubles and whatever funny thing your students did that day in class, and more focused on Robbie–strictly about his schedule and his needs.

This is KILLING ME ALEX! They just need to communicate with one another instead of shutting each other out! DANG IT! SPEAK! DEAN STOP DOING THE SUFFER IN SILENCE BIT! We all know you can look super hot while you're brooding, but COME ON! I just want to hit him with a frying pan!

And her! Oh my word. I love her but please, PLEASE call Dean! He's your friend! You like him!

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

Nice and safe.

Like an end table. Because that's what every woman wants from her significant other 🤣

Also I'm literally cackling over the fact that Dean and Benny chose the same night to ask their ladies to marry them. Their brains are so in sync LOL.

The only face he can conjure is yours. Your eyes are warm and welcoming, your smile as bright and contagious as your laugh. The only voice he can hear is yours, gentle and strong at the same time. The only one he can see is you. He knows the shampoo you use an

FINALLY!

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

She can have a whole truck full of potatoes. She did the right thing and the "Go fight for it," is just so lovely.

“It’s over. For good this time,” Dean shakes his head. “I realized what I wanted for my life, and where my heart is…” And he chuckles weakly. “Truth is, you’ve had it the whole time, sweetheart.”

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

I especially love this little bit, because you describe what the reader wants in love (what we all want LOL) and then you add the difference when Dean touches her. But I also completely understand her hesitancy to go to Dean even though it's what her heart is telling her. She's trying not to get her heart broken and yet Dean is the person she's held there for so long.

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

Oh goodness THE WEDDING! IT'S HAPPENING!

Can I ask how long it's been since they got back together? I love the time skip, but I'm just curious to see how long Dean waited to pop the question. 😊

Also the stuff about Benny is so sad- I'm beyond happy for the reader and Dean (their love makes me so happy)- but dang he was Dean's best friend. And the stuff about Dean saying that this wasn't how he wanted to be promoted, I'm having so many feelings AHHHHH! But I wish Benny happiness. Who knows? Maybe he and Lisa will meet up in a few years and bond 🤪

(I also felt the need to add the next paragraph because I read the comments)

Also I'm gonna say this- I like what you did with Lisa and with Benny. I think that it made sense to add them in this and I think that Lisa added a catty/dramatic energy and Benny sort of became the (terrible word) placeholder for Dean to the reader, but both of these characters were helpful for moving the story along. And I think that Dean's character makes sense because yes at the beginning he was a playboy, but then he started to feel the stability of the reader, started to crave something more than what he had in his life- and instead of going with her, he clung to Lisa. Just as the reader wanted something more and started to date Benny, but missed the electricity of what the reader thought love should feel like. Dean and the reader both felt the need to push down their feelings and search in the wrong places for what they wanted from each other. At least that's how I took it and I loved every single second of this fic and how you wrapped everything up!

ALEX, this fic was amazing! It had me feeling all the feels on this wonderful, beautifully written emotional rollercoaster. I can't wait to read the epilogue!

IF I STAY - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

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

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

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

Word Count: 13.1K

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

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Part 2: It’s Now or Never

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…Or something like that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Benny! It’s good to see you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why does it smell like a bakery in here?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aw, come on. It’s a badass name!”

“What about Aiden?” you suggest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How about Benjamin,” comes a Louisiana drawl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FIVE YEARS LATER... 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Need an iron lung?” Lisa teases.

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

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

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

Dean’s good mood diminishes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? What’re you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean expels a heavy sigh. “Lis—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your brows raise high. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just that what? he wonders.

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

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

“Dean!” Benny shouts in alarm.

Luckily, the truck itself breaks Dean's fall.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Benny nods.

“You got it, brother.”

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

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

Her tone is cutting, and it takes you aback.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two Months Ago...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I caught a minnow!”

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

“A marlin?” Robbie questions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you tell him?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you ask.

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

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

“Before Lisa,” Dean says.

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

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

Your eyes widen. Finally, that jogs your memory.

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

You have to laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh. “That’s not what I meant.”

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

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

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

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

But Dean surprises you with another question.

“Do you think if…”

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

Just as you open your mouth to reply—

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

“Okay, thanks, Mom,” you nod.

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

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

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

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

Now...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nice and safe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dean,” you gasp.

Benny’s expression slackens. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She just gives him a long look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She pauses, with her back turned to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The only one he can see is you.

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

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

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

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

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

“Lisa, I loved you.”

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

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

He goes to her and kisses her cheek. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say.

Instinctively, Dean knows it’s a lie.

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

Dean leans a hand on the doorframe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God, Dean. You can't just..."

"I mean it," he insists.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” you agree. “Let’s try.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I…”

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

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

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

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

For once, the gates around your hearts swing free. 

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

“Thanks, buddy,” Dean says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean didn’t want to get promoted this way. He felt guilty enough as it was, and not just for Benny leaving the firehouse. Benny recommended Dean to the Chief himself though, saying that if they were going to give someone a Lieutenant’s badge, it may as well be the guy who got a perfect score on his test, and had the natural leadership skills to boot.

To the end, Benny was a gentleman.

Now, Sam beckons his nephew over. Robbie quickly goes to his uncle’s side and puffs his little chest out as he stands proud behind his dad. 

Dean is able to take you in, your beautiful white dress, and everything about you that makes him smile…including the way you smile back at him.

Man and wife is all he hears. It’s all he needs to hear, before he’s pulling you closer by your newly anointed hand. He dips you for a thorough kiss in front of all your family and friends. 

You squeal in surprise, making Dean smile hard enough for his cheeks to hurt. Giggling hard enough to make you tremble, you raise a hand to caress his cheek. But you give him another real kiss after he guides you back up to your feet.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips. The words are just for him to hear. Dean pulls back enough to see the truth shining in your eyes. Beautiful.

“Can’t help it, right?” he teases. 

You smile in amusement, but you grab his chin and shake it. 

“You got me,” you reply. “I really, really can’t.”

Your beaming smile softens. Even though the entire room is clapping and hooting and hollering in celebration, in that moment, all you really see is Dean. 

Here in his arms, you know that this is where you were meant to end up. From now on, it’s where you’re meant to be.

AN: From Lisa and Benny to Robbie and everything in between. Dean and the reader certainly aren't perfect in this, but what do you think about how their story unfolded? I truly hope you guys enjoy this one, because I've had so much fun with it. 🥰❤️❤️‍🔥

So please let me know what you thought! 😘

⋆˙⟡ Keep Reading: The Epilogue

"Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, if I can't help falling in love with you?"

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[taeyongdoyoung]

t-t-teach me

summary: college life sucks. but at least you get to study with the hottest guy on campus... pairing: soobin x reader genre: college au, slight angst, smut, colleagues to study buddies to lovers warnings: academic setting, studying, mild allusions to anxiety/insecurities, reader is older than soobin, kissing, praise kink, size kink, handjob, fingering, lots of touching, protected sex (gasp), manipulation if you squint but it's all consensual, some lyrics references as usual author's note: someone on social media commented that soobin's "t-t-teach me" part in love language lowkey sounds like "t-t-touch me" and i couldn't get it out of my head so here we are... word count: 2.2k

Your college life is pretty boring. Study, eat, study some more, eat again, sleep, repeat. So, when your most handsome colleague (in your humble opinion) asks you to help him study for the upcoming exams, you are tempted to agree.

"Pleaseee, Y/N," Soobin begs so cutely. The way his glasses are slightly tilted doesn't help your case. "I can even pay you!"

"I don't want your money, Soobin," you shake your head, determined to play with him a little longer. After all, it is not every day that such a hot guy acknowledges your existence.

"What do you want, then? I'd do anything, I really need to pass, my whole future depends on it."

"Well, shouldn't you have studied throughout the year?" you tease him. "Instead of, I don't know, partying or whatever it is you and your squad do."

"I don't even go to parties. I'm just in my dorm playing games all the time."

"Case in point," you tsk, pretending to be disappointed.

"Okay, I realize I should have taken the courses more seriously, but can you please consider it?"

"What's in it for me?"

"I told you already, the sky is the limit. Just t-t-teach me the material," he stammers sweetly. "When the professors do it, I literally can't focus and understand anything."

"You do realize this isn't an easy task, right? We have less than a month until finals. Even if I do help you study…I can't promise you'll pass."

"Where's your confidence, teacher?" Soobin pouts.

"I haven't agreed yet!"

"Oh, but you just did," Soobin is too adorable to say 'no' to.

So, this is how it starts. Every day, after your lectures end, you go to Soobin's dorm to study. You use every method that has been helpful for you throughout the years. Highlights, flashcards, quizzes, you try everything and anything in order to help Soobin understand the material. At the end of each week you prepare a short test that is meant to aid Soobin in revising the most important information. The first week, his results are disastrous. You honestly don't see any hope but you promised him you'd try your best so you keep modifying the material in order to improve his understanding. The second week, his results are still below average, but slightly better. By the third week, he has definitely reached the expected pass level.

"My God, Soobin, this is amazing progress!" you praise him honestly.

"Really? You think I'd be able to pass?" he asks, still worried about the upcoming exams.

"If you keep up the great work, you surely will," you are confident that he'll make it. "We have one more week until the first exam, I'm sure we'll manage to cover some more ground and revise the essentials."

"Yeah, I think there's still enough time to stick to the plan you made," Soobin nods thoughtfully.

"Here's an idea that might be motivational. If you pass all your exams, I'll reward you."

"Reward me how?" Soobin eyes you curiously.

"However you like."

"What about me paying you back?" Soobin reminds you of the original deal.

"You can just buy me dinner at that sushi place near the university," you suggest simply.

"Sounds good. I'll do my best to pass."

"I know you can do it!" at this point, you genuinely believe in him and are amazed to see how much he's improved.

The exam period starts sooner than you'd like and you now have less time for your study sessions with Soobin, prioritizing individual preparation instead. Honestly, you kind of miss seeing his pretty face every day and explaining things to him. Talking about the material out loud has been helpful for you, as well. The final exams pass by in a flash and now you only have to wait one more week for the results to come out.

"How do you think you did?" you ask Soobin on the phone.

"Ugh, don't ask," he complains. "Even though I felt like we covered all the material, having to explain it in my own words and provide examples was so draining. I have no idea how I did but don't get your hopes up."

"I see," you reply with a sigh.

"I'm not gonna ask how you did, because I'm pretty sure you nailed them," Soobin shuts down any possibility of boasting before it even started.

"Hey, the exams were pretty difficult for me, too," you mumble shyly.

"Yeah, yeah, talk to me again when you flaunt those 100 points."

"Just because I tend to get high results most of the time, doesn't mean I don't struggle," you express your feelings a little harsher than intended.

Soobin is stunned into silence.

"Sorry, that was insensitive of me to say. I guess I never realized how much effort you put into studying."

"It's okay, I'm used to being misunderstood," you answer sheepishly.

"Just because you're used to it, doesn't make it okay. Get some rest. You sure deserve it."

"You too, Soobin."

And with that, the phone call ends. Tensions run high as you anxiously check your email once every two hours for results. You probably care more about this than you should. Only this time your own results are not the only thing on your mind. You really want Soobin to be satisfied with the work he's done. Because you feel like you poured more energy into helping him and you would really hate to see him fail. Not only because you'd feel responsible for it, but because you genuinely like him and want to see him happy.

After what feels like forever, the results are out. Of course, you can only see your own due to privacy reasons. But you know Soobin has also received the same email as every other student. It is only the content that varies. You quickly check your stats and though you didn't get a 100 points everywhere, as Soobin jokingly suggested, you are still pretty proud of yourself. You eagerly grab your phone, meaning to call Soobin when you stop yourself in the last second.

What if he didn't pass all the exams? What if he doesn't want to talk about it? So, instead, you wait until he contacts you first. Luckily, you don't wait long.

"Come over" is the simple message he sends you.

You put on a jacket and practically sprint to his dorm. Is he okay? Is he inviting you over to celebrate or to drink his sorrows away? Your mind races and so do your legs as you near his room. A hesitant knock on his door. A quiet "It's open".

You cautiously enter and study Soobin's expressions in an attempt to read the room. He doesn't look depressed but he doesn't look ecstatic either. What's going on? You just need to know, the uncertainty is killing you.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Soobin asks you coldly.

"Uh…good news?" you mumble, feeling more nervous about whatever he has to say than about your own results.

"Good news is I passed all my exams. I got between 60 and 75 points on most of them."

"That's…incredible! Congratulations, Soobin!" you exclaim proudly. "I'm really happy for you! Wait…what are the bad news, then?"

"The bad news is…you promised me a reward," he whispers darkly.

"Why is that bad news?" you are utterly confused, as you sit down on the couch next to him. "You deserve to be rewarded, you worked so hard to accomplish this."

"That's true, but…I'm not sure you'll like the way I want to be rewarded."

"Anything is okay," you vow, not knowing what's in store for you. "I'll keep my word."

"Oh, I know you will," Soobin smirks and crashes his lips against yours, shocking you completely. Is this really happening? Did you just…both pass all your exams and are now kissing with the hottest guy in your university to celebrate?

"T-t-touch me," he begs so prettily who are you to reject him?

"Where do you want me to touch you?" you easily agree.

He grabs your hand and slides it under his shirt so that you are now caressing his abs. Fuck, his skin is so smooth and hard.

"You're so pretty," you mutter what you've been thinking every time you see him.

"I try to look my best for you," Soobin admits.

"Shut up," you shake your head in disbelief.

"Yes, teacher," he teases you.

"Don't call me that," you groan.

"What would you prefer? Ma'am?"

"Ugh, no, that makes me feel old," your eyes roll.

"Well, you are older than me. How about noona?" Soobin blinks cutely.

"Oh my God, do you ever shut up?"

"Touch me somewhere else," he doesn't ask this time, he demands. You don't even have the time to ask where he'd like to be touched before he's grabbed your wrist again and moves it right on top of his clothed cock. You're seriously gonna die. You're gonna die right in this moment and you won't even go to that cute sushi place. "Take my jeans off."

Your hands are shaking but you do your best to follow Soobin's orders. All your academic knowledge is completely useless in this moment. What you lack in practice, you try to make up for with enthusiasm. Stroking his length and licking him softly seem to do the trick and Soobin grows harder under your touch.

"Why are you so pretty?" you can't help but marvel.

"It's both a blessing and a curse," Soobin grunts loudly. "Wait, stop."

You immediately halt your movements, letting go of his cock.

"Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?" you ask nervously, almost getting teary-eyed at the thought.

"What? No, you're doing amazing, I just…didn't want to come yet."

"Oh, I see," you reply, even though you can't see shit. "When do you want to come?"

"Wrong question, teacher," Soobin disregards your preference for not being called that. But in this moment, you no longer care. "Replace the wh-word with another wh-word."

"Hmm," you ponder out loud. "Where do you want to come?"

"Inside you. If you'd let me."

"Erm, I'm not sure…" you try to find a polite say that you are not really interested in getting pregnant at this point of your life.

"Relax, I've got condoms," Soobin laughs at you gently. "We can save the risky activities for after graduation."

He's already thinking that far into the future?

Soobin touches your folds gently, trying to ease your worries.

"Does it feel good?"

"So good, Soobin," you confess.

"Yeah?" he smirks proudly, as his long finger stretches you open. "Bet I can teach you a thing or two myself."

"I believe you," you sigh wistfully, as you near your high.

While Soobin puts on protection, you try to think of a logical solution as to how this will work. Honestly, you are too wet to care but his enormous size is still intimidating. Your brain seems incapable of coming up with a formula, so you give up entirely. Thinking only makes it worse.

When he slides inside of you, the feeling is so overwhelming you need something to keep you from falling apart.

"Talk to me," you beg.

"What do you want me to talk about?" Soobin asks.

"Anything."

"Linguistics is the scientific study of language. The areas of linguistic analysis are syntax, morphology, phonetics and-"

"Oh my God, really?" you scoff in disbelief. "Exams are over, let's put that behind us."

"What's your love language?" Soobin wants to know.

"Probably words of affirmation. What's yours?"

"Same. Quality time, as well," he responds.

"Oh yeah, definitely," you agree.

"You're taking me so well," Soobin immediately puts the newfound knowledge to use.

"You're fucking me so well," you whisper sincerely.

And this is all it takes for you two burst in each other's arms, experiencing pleasure like never before.

Once you've dutifully helped clean each other up and are cozied up underneath the sheets, the time for a more serious conversation arrives.

"I don't wanna lose this," Soobin gestures in the air between the two of you.

"We can keep studying together," you reply dumbly.

"That's not what I meant," Soobin chuckles. "Wanna spend time with you. We don't have to be studying, we can watch movies and I can teach you how to play games and…other stuff."

"I like the sound of that," you smile warmly.

"Actually, I have a confession to make," Soobin blurts out.

"Oh?"

"Deep down, I knew I'd pass the exams somehow," Soobin whispers. "I just couldn't be bothered to study. Needed an excuse to get close to you."

You can't even be mad at him.

"I have a confession, as well," you say in return. "I agreed to help you because I wanted to know more about you. I could tell you're smart."

"Is it the glasses?" Soobin pouts adorably, tilting his head to the side.

"Nah, you just give off that…sexy nerdy vibe. Glasses or no glasses."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is. From one nerd to another."

"I can live with that," Soobin flicks your nose playfully.

"You still owe me sushi, by the way. For helping you study."

"Oh, teacher. Sushi is not the only thing you'll be eating tonight."

The End

[kathlare]

just maybe

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Between post-qualifying interviews, teasing from George, and a chance encounter outside the Racing Point garage, emotions simmer beneath the surface as Lando quietly dares to hope for something more than friendship.

Wordcount: 2.4 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

July 11th, 2020 - Spielberg, Austria

The sun beat down on the paddock, bouncing off the concrete and casting long shadows behind the media pen. Sweat beaded under the drivers’ face masks, but they were used to it now—used to the heat, the rush of adrenaline from qualifying, the endless carousel of interviews.

Lando tugged lightly at the neck of his race suit, still zipped halfway, his eyes scanning the makeshift tented area where they were herded post-quali like cattle with microphones.

George stood beside him, arms crossed, rocking back on his heels. They were both waiting to be called up again, already drained from repeating the same answers to different media outlets.

—Fucking hell, I swear if they ask me one more time if I’m happy with P6...— Lando muttered, squinting behind his sunglasses.

—...I’m gonna say, “No, Susan, I’m devastated. I wanted pole. Obviously.”— George snorted, rolling his eyes beneath his mask.

Lando chuckled under his breath, pulling at the wrist of his glove. —They love the drama. Even when there’s none.—

—Speaking of drama...— George said, tone shifting just slightly, like he couldn’t help himself.

Lando side-eyed him. —Oh god. What now? You look like you're about to burst.—

George hesitated for half a second. Then:

—Okay, fuck it, I wasn’t gonna say anything, but I literally cannot hold this in. You have to promise not to say anything, alright? Not to her, not to Charles, not to anyone.—

Lando straightened slightly, suspicion creeping in. —What the fuck are you on about, Russell?—

George leaned closer, glancing around before whispering, —Amelie broke up with Joshua.—

Time stopped.

Well—not really. The media pen still buzzed. A cameraman dropped something heavy and cursed. Someone was shouting in Italian behind them. But in Lando’s head, everything slammed to a halt.

—What?— he said, too fast.

George nodded, face already split into a shit-eating grin under his mask. —Yup. Couple days ago. I overheard her talking to Charles about it. I wasn’t even trying to listen, okay? I was just... behind the truck grabbing a water, minding my business.—

—You? Minding your business? Sure.—

George ignored him. —And then I hear her say she ended it with Josh and she didn’t even cry about it. Like, dead serious. Said she thought she should feel worse, but just didn’t.—

Lando blinked, his brain still buffering.

Amelie. Single.

Amelie who used to giggle at her phone screen when Joshua texted. Amelie who once told him—after way too many late-night Discord games—that she thought maybe, possibly, Josh was safe. Whatever the fuck safe meant.

And now? Done.

—She said that?— he asked, voice lower now, throat tight.

George nodded again. —And then she said... well, this part you didn’t hear from me...— he added, even though he was absolutely the one telling him.

Lando didn’t care. —What?—

—She told Charles she thinks maybe she’d stayed with him because she didn’t know how to be alone anymore. And then she joked that at least now she can stop pretending she likes watching football.—

Lando blinked. His stomach was doing some very stupid shit. He could feel it.

George nudged him. —I promised I wasn’t gonna say anything, okay? But fuck. It's Amelie. And you... you like her.—

—George...—Lando warned.

—Don’t “George” me. You do. I’ve seen the way you look at her. Everyone has. You’re like a twelve-year-old with a crush.—

Lando shoved him, but it wasn’t convincing.

Because yeah.

He did.

And now she wasn’t dating anyone. She was... free.

And he had no fucking idea what to do with that.

—You better not tell anyone I told you,— George added, wagging a gloved finger. —I’ll deny everything. Charles will kill me. And Amelie will castrate me emotionally.—

Lando barely registered the warning. His brain was already elsewhere. Replaying all their recent moments—her head on his shoulder after dinner last night, the way her laugh had cracked when he did that stupid accent impression of Carlos, how she’d texted him a picture of her iced coffee with his name spelled wrong on it and said, “thinking of u, loser.”

He always thought he didn’t have a shot. That she was taken, that she was still figuring out how to be okay after everything, especially Cam.

But now?

Now there was a door. A crack of light.

Maybe even hope.

—Lando?— George said, waving a hand in front of his face.

Lando snapped back to reality. —Yeah. Sorry. Just... holy shit.—

George snorted again. —You’re thinking about kissing her right now, aren’t you? You disgusting simp.—

—Fuck off,— Lando muttered, but the corners of his mouth twitched up.

Because yeah.

Maybe he was.

And for the first time since this whole pandemic madness started, for the first time since she came crashing into his life in a Discord call with George yelling over Fortnite and Charles lagging like hell—he felt like maybe, maybe, this could turn into something more.

And she wouldn’t have to pretend to like football anymore.

Just him.

Just maybe.

—You’re doomed, mate,— George said with a grin, clapping him on the shoulder.

—Yeah,— Lando replied, finally smiling for real. —But like... in a good way.—

Just then the media handler waved them forward, calling Lando’s name.

He stepped ahead, heart still thudding in his chest, not from qualifying, not from the cameras—no, from three words echoing in his head:

Amelie is single.

Fuck.

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

liked by lanmeliesupremacy, sunshinef1baby, and others

ameliedaymanupdates: Amelie spotted arriving at the paddock in Spielberg today for the Styrian GP!

View all 27,016 comments

dayman.demons: she steps into the paddock and the grid goes silent like it’s church → quadrantchaos: @dayman.demons only thing louder than that silence is Lando’s heart rate

ameliedaydaily: i just KNOW she smelled good walking past those cameras → georgerussellfan69: @ameliedaydaily lavender + rich girl money

sunshinef1baby: lanmelie truthers HOW WE FEELING → mclovingeverything: @sunshinef1baby emotionally unstable but hydrated

alexsbucket: imagine being a driver trying to focus and she shows up looking like THAT

paddockbarbie: no bc she walked in and the grid shifted 😭 → landoiscrying: @paddockbarbie someone check Lando’s pulse IMMEDIATELY

lanmeliesupremacy: why is lando smiling so hard today huh 😏 → mcloverrr: @lanmeliesupremacy he saw her through the garage window and forgot how to breathe

quadgirlie: she’s not even racing and still gets more airtime than half the grid 😭 → maxymaxmax: @quadgirlie give her a seat

lanmelietruthing: WHY is lando smiling more than usual this weekend 🤨 → jetlaggedjosh: @lanmelietruthing bc his lil crush is in austria again don’t play dumb → quadrantchaos: @lanmelietruthing “just friends” my ASS

sunshinewifelando: the way she walks like she owns the track??? → macnferrari: @sunshinewifelando she does. spiritually, emotionally, legally.

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

The sun had begun its slow descent behind the Styrian mountains, casting a warm gold over the Red Bull Ring. The paddock buzzed with the low hum of debriefs wrapping up, cameras being packed away, and exhausted drivers peeling off their race suits in the shade of their motorhomes. Race day was done, but Lando’s nerves still hadn’t settled.

Not because of the race. He’d done alright. P5, solid points. McLaren were happy.

But he hadn’t seen her all day.

He knew she was there—George had confirmed it earlier, smug little shit that he was—but even with all his wandering, the stolen glances down the Racing Point corridor, the excuses to swing by the hospitality areas she liked… nothing.

Not a glimpse. Not even her laugh.

So after the team debrief, when Andreas gave him a nod of dismissal and his engineer clapped him on the shoulder with a “go rest up, mate,” Lando didn’t go back to his driver room. He didn’t go for a shower. He didn’t even take off his sweaty race suit.

He walked straight toward the Racing Point garage.

And there she was.

Sitting at a fold-out table outside the garage, her back to the sun, fingers wrapped around a water bottle. Her hair was up, loose and messy in a way he knew she didn’t mean to look that effortlessly good, but did anyway. Across from her, Stella—Amelie’s older sister—sat cross-legged, sunglasses perched on her nose and the tiniest fluff of golden fur sitting contently in her lap: Stella and Checo’s over-pampered family dog.

They were laughing softly about something. Amelie gestured with one hand, the other stroking the dog's head absentmindedly. Her face was flushed from the heat, freckles out in full force, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

Lando’s heart thumped stupidly.

He hesitated for a second—he didn’t want to seem like he’d sought her out (even though, yeah, he absolutely had). But then she looked up, eyes catching on him as if she’d felt him approaching before he’d said a word.

—Hey,— he said, a bit breathless. —Mind if I join?—

Stella looked up and smiled lazily. —Of course not. You’ve earned it. Fifth, right?—

—Yeah,— Lando said, rubbing the back of his neck as he slid into the seat beside Amelie, opposite Stella. —Wasn’t a bad day.—

He could feel Amelie watching him. Not cold, not distant—but a bit unreadable. Her gaze lingered for just a second too long, like she was trying to figure out why he was there, why now.

—Congrats,— she said finally, her voice low and calm, the faintest edge of amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth. —Not bad for a baby McLaren.—

He scoffed, grinning despite himself. —Okay, rude. But I’ll take it.—

The dog—whose name Lando could never remember, something Spanish and dramatic—yawned dramatically on Stella’s lap, stretching tiny paws across her denim-clad thighs.

—Luna’s exhausted from all the cheering,— Stella said dryly, scratching behind the pup’s ears. —Had her little Racing Point flag and everything.—

Amelie rolled her eyes. —You mean you carried her around like a spoiled toddler all day.—

—She is a spoiled toddler,— Stella replied with a shrug. —And I love her more than I love most people. Including you. Especially when you make me sit through thirty laps of Checo barely moving up the grid.—

Amelie snorted, taking a sip of water. Lando couldn’t look away. God, he’d missed hearing her laugh.

He leaned back in the chair, letting the sun hit his face, stealing little glances at her from the corner of his eye. She looked tired, but in a soft, sun-drenched way. Like she’d been out all day, like she’d lived the day rather than just passed through it. Her lips were slightly chapped, and there was a faint smudge of mascara under one eye.

He almost said something about it. Almost. But then Stella’s phone buzzed against the table, and she glanced at it, sighing as she stood.

—Ugh. That’s Mum. Forgot to check in after the race. She’s probably convinced we’ve all been kidnapped again.— She turned to Amelie, her voice pointed. —If I’m not back in ten, it means she roped me into a FaceTime and you have to come rescue me.—

—Deal,— Amelie said, lifting her hand in a mock salute.

And just like that, they were alone.

The chatter of the paddock felt far away now, muffled under the fading hum of race day dying down. Lando shifted in his seat, fingers drumming once on the edge of the table.

This was his chance. Maybe.

He should ask something normal. How was her day? Had she seen the overtake on Lap 34? Did she still hate the paddock food?

Instead, he blurted—trying to sound casual, like he hadn’t rehearsed this in his head a dozen times:

—So... how’s Joshua?—

He felt it immediately.

The shift.

Amelie turned her head slowly to look at him, one brow arching, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Her water bottle paused midway to her lips.

—Why are you asking about Joshua?— she said flatly.

Fuck.

Too soon. Too obvious.

Lando cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. —I just... haven’t heard you mention him lately. Thought maybe he didn’t come to Austria with you, or... I don’t know.—

Her gaze didn’t waver. —You hate Joshua.—

—What? I don’t... I mean, I dislike him, but hate’s a strong word.—

—You once said he looked like if a thumb had a personality.—

Lando winced. —Okay, in my defense, that was after he called me “little man” for an entire weekend.—

She didn’t laugh. Not yet. Just stared at him with that same sharp awareness, like she was mentally combing through the conversation and cross-referencing it with everything she’d ever known about him.

—George told you, didn’t he?—

Lando froze.

Shit.

She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest now, looking too pleased with herself.

—Fucking George,— she muttered.

Lando raised his hands in surrender. —Okay, yes, but he wasn’t supposed to. He said it by accident. Or, like, by... compulsion. He couldn’t help himself.—

—Mmm-hmm.—

—And I didn’t come over here just to ask you about that.—

She tilted her head, clearly unconvinced. —But you did ask.—

He hesitated. Then shrugged. —I guess I wanted to know how you’re doing.—

That, at least, softened her just a little.

She exhaled slowly, her eyes dropping to the table, fingers tracing the condensation ring from her bottle.

—It’s... fine. I’m fine. We broke up. I haven’t cried about it. I didn’t think I’d feel this okay, but I do.—

He watched her. Really watched her.

—You don’t miss him?— he asked, quieter now.

She paused, then looked up. Her voice was steady when she replied:

—No. I think I just got used to the idea of him. Of us. But that’s not the same as being happy.—

Lando nodded, his throat tight. He wanted to say something else—something dumb and reckless, like I could make you happy, or you deserve better. But instead, he smiled, soft and a little lopsided.

—So... does that mean you don’t have to pretend to like football anymore?—

Amelie blinked. Then, to his immense relief, laughed.

—God, thank fuck. You have no idea how long I sat through matches with my eyes glazed over.—

—So when you said Messi was your favorite...— he teased.

—Didn’t even know what team he was on until two months ago.—

Lando laughed too, the sound spilling easily between them now.

The sun had dipped lower, casting a golden halo around her hair, catching the glint of her earrings. She looked at him for a beat longer than she needed to. And this time, it wasn’t unreadable.

It was something else entirely.

Something that made Lando’s pulse trip in his throat.

He didn’t say anything more. Didn’t need to.

But he felt it.

The crack of light.

Still there. Still growing.

And maybe, if he was lucky...

She’d let him walk through it.

[thesweetcurse]

There is one pitfall in this community that could literally take your whole joy of living and existing away. When we found out about the law of assumption, we learned the importance of our imagination. Before I knew about the law, imagination was nothing but fiction or fantasy. I wasn‘t aware of its power. One day, I asked myself: ‘‘If I didn‘t know that Imagination creates reality, if I didn’t know about the law of assumption at all, would I still have a hard time imagining without feeling like I‘m delusional or lying to myself?‘‘ No, I would simply imagine. I wouldn‘t have second thoughts or doubts because why would I? I mean I‘m simply imagining whatever I want, right? But when I joined this community, I started to misuse my imaginative power. All of a sudden, I imagined to change my outer world. I imagined to get something. My whole focus was laying on the outside. How funny is that, to do something inwardly only to change it outwardly?

I know that I‘m not alone on this. I know that there are plenty of souls in this community that fell in the same ‘‘imagine to get‘‘-trap. But I‘m here to assure you, my love, that you can easily get out of that unhealthy circle. Just like I did. This is kinda going to be a success story, but I feel like telling you also about my failures will prevent you from doing the same, or it will even help you find out, what you‘re doing ‘‘wrong‘‘. Because there is one thing that I can promise you: If you are suffering along your law of assumption journey, you‘re doing someting wrong. Please don't get it twisted. It's not about feeling good all the time. It's not about being happy 24/7. It's simply about fulfilling. It's about being content with having it within because you are that powerful. It's about realizing that you don't need to have it on the outside to feel it. How wonderful is that? I mean the feeling is so magical when you apply it correctly. If not, you will suffer just like I did. Maybe you are suffering right now.

In my case, the law got frustrating when I only imagined to get something in the 3d. It made me sick to the point that my life became terrible. I got everything I DID NOT want in the 3d. The things that I wanted for myself became other peoples reality. I thought I was in some sort of psychological thriller playing an unlucky character and God wants to test me along the process. I literally thought that everyone was happy winning in life but me.

I asked myself: Why is life getting worse when I imagine only the best for myself? Why am I experiencing the opposite of what I want? Literally the opposite. Well, I'm telling you what I did wrong: I was wasting my time and energy. I imagined because I was hungry for my desires and left my imagination starving even more. I felt empty after giving myself my desires in imagination. And so l became miserable, jealous, sad and I started to gain weight. My social life wasn't fun as it used to be and I didn't want so see anyone.I couldn't sit alone with myself anymore. I constantly had to stimulate myself with my tv, my phone or ipad. I overconsumed LOA content. I probably have read every LOA post on tumblr. My daydreams became my escape from life (Maladaptive Daydreaming). I was no longer functioning and my life went downhill.

One day, I sat with myself. It was difficult and I couldn't stand it. I was so close to grab my ipad and distract my lazy ass when I asked myself this: Do I sincerely believe in the Law of Assumption? Like at all? Do I really believe that all of this is true? Do I really believe that it's a universal law or do l believe that some people succeed and some don't? Sincerely, NO! I didn't believe in all of this at all! I had zero faith, not even a tiny bit. All the time, I was just desperately hoping. I was like "okay, no way that I get what I want but let's give it a try. I don't even want to try beause I'm sure it won't work but maybe one day my desires will decide to show up in my 3d, so let me imagine to prove myself that all of this actually works." This was such a wrong and harmful approach. It messed up my mental health.

So the answer to all questions was no. At that point I had two options: I'm either going to live my life like I used to before LOA or I'm going to read source properly and understand the law. I chose the last option, because even though I had no faith, I knew I was meant to live my life how I want it. I was meant to become the best version of myself, to get the best looks, to get the wealthy family, to get the best grades and so on. I read Neville and Edward, and I also read posts from tumblr that were really helpful. Aphroditeapprenticee was the one that opened my eyes. After reading her posts, I finally understood the law. It was never about getting, it was about being. Being doesn‘t mean seeing it with your eyes or touching it with your hands. It‘s not about being it in the 3d. It‘s about Self. It‘s an internal change. You are not doing, getting or hoping, you are only being. Remember how I said somewhere in the beginning of this post that giving my inner self what I want made me bitter? Well, of course that‘s what I feel when I hoped that having it in the 4d means I can also have it in the 3d. I didn‘t even care about my imagination because the end goal was my physical world. And when I didn‘t see it in my 3d I was expecting the opposite since what I want hasn’t shown up. My love, we can‘t change the 3d. And it is not our duty to do so. It never was. Manifesting was never about the outer world. If you want something in the outer world, than change it with your outer self. You want to lose weight? Okay than go to the gym and eat healthy food. You want to become rich? Study hard, find a high paying job and get that bag. You want a relationship? Ask somebody out. You want to become the best version of yourself? Than work step by step towards that version.But I didn‘t want it this way. I did not want to work so hard for my desires. I didn‘t want to study hard. I wanted to be so smart, that I don’t have to study at all. I wanted to be naturally intelligent. I wanted an old money lifestyle but I didn‘t want to work for years only to live that lifestyle when I‘m old.

Do you understand, I wanted it all now. And who can have all of it at this exact time? Your I AM, your inner self, the one inside you, living in imagination. Because your true self lives in the world of imagination (and stays there!!), it can have anything. Imagination is unconditional. What changed everything for me was looking at imagination from this perspective: We know consciousness/imagination is the only reality, right? We know that 4d=3d. But I got everything I wanted when I said to my self that my 4d is not my 3d. Please bear with me I know it sounds confusing and you don‘t have to do it like me but seeing my imagination as a place that doesn‘t reflect, stopped me from imagining to get something in the 3d. When I imagined, I did it just to feel good. I saw my inner world as one reality in which I‘m god (which is actually true) and then there was my outer world, also a reality on its own. And since I‘m god in my inner world, I could give myself anything I wanted there. I felt so fulfilled because my focus was on being the person I want to be in consciousness. I shamelessly lived in my imagination which was so easy since I no longer believed that 3d reflects 4d. I didn‘t have to wait, I didnt have to hope, because in imagination, everything just is. The burden to change the 3d was completely gone. I was simply imagining to fulfill my hearts desires. I did not expect anything.

Don‘t worry. Imagination still creates reality wether I‘m believing it or not. It‘s an unchangeable fact. But for me, it was easier when I lived by the analogy that my 3d does not reflect my 4d because now, there is nothing to achieve. I no longer used my imagination as a tool to get something, I recognized it as my only true reality. I indentified with my inner self who lives there and gave myself everything I wanted. What happened after that? It showed up in my 3d. From now on, my only priority is to fulfill the inner man. Consciousness is the only reality. It is not a tool to get something, it is the end!

Very important note: I don‘t want to cause any separation. I know I‘m talking about 3d/4d but it‘s all consciousness. When you identify with your inner being, you are not creating a second self or an alter ego. You are identifying with your true self. The Self, that has been there since you were born. When you are fulfilling the inner self, put the 3d out of equation okay my love? The materialization is just a bonus. It’s nothing more. The cause lies in Consciousness. To really accept my Imagination as the only reality, I had to mentally block out the fact that it reflects on the outside because my focus would have been purely on the outside. You don‘t have to do that. The only thing I want you to take with yourself is this: Imagination is not a tool, it is reality. You are not doing to get something on the outside, you fulfill within and that‘s it.

It‘s not: I want money -> I grant my wish in imagination -> somewhere in the 3d it will show up (state of waiting) ❌

It’s: I want money -> I grant my wish in imagination -> I‘m fulfilled that‘s the end congrats✅

It‘s that easy because you are not creating anything, you are not changing the outside. The outside cannot be changed. You are changing Self and Self is not bound to objects. Self does not need proof or confirmation.

[cococubess]

oh lord i didn’t even think about the episodes being split in half…again, i really think craig has the shows interest in mind but i hope that appealing to children’s botched attention spans won’t hurt the quality of the story. one of the most charming parts about STF is how fleshed out its world is.

think of your favorite episode that teaches a lesson and then think if it would still be your favorite if it was told in half the time. personally, i don’t think ‘the shy princess’ would be as impactful to kids learning that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover and can accommodate for your friends rather than change them if it was squeezed into an 11 minute episode.

this especially wouldn’t work with any episode with stakes or plot retaining to the rest of the series as well. ‘day of the sorcerers’ felt a little rushed as is, imagine all that information and emotion being packed into 11 minutes…and will there be continuity still like season 4 or only episodic like season 1? kids aren’t stupid, but if their attention spans are this abysmal they might not pay attention long enough to understand that last episode links to the next in some way.

the obvious solution for this is to just extend any more important episodes into the full 22 minutes, but that can’t happen in the first 10 or so, right? it might loose kids interests if they’re not fully invested yet and things stop moving at a break neck pace. can the first episode be longer like ‘once upon a princess?’ or will that be too long to hook kids attentions?

i understand that disney wants to get good ratings and adhere to what will do that in todays time, but sofia the first is not a brand new IP that needs to quickly grasp everyone’s attentions. it’s already done that. they will have fans coming back regardless and parents who know the name and trust it. while my points from the original post still stand of parents putting literally anything on for their kids, i really wish disney would just be the change they want to see. kids still watch their movies, they can stomach a 22 minute story. you are the biggest media company in the damn world, you don’t have to encourage something that makes your shows suffer.

i will be really discouraged if half the episodes just turn into “oh no, theres wacky magic that we need to solve really quickly!” again, i have faith in craig and the people on his team who really do care about this series and it’s message, but not disney as a whole. i’m really hoping RM has the same charm the original series had while adapting to what kids want. i hate to be the “well i grew up with it this way so that means it’s better!” person, because i really try not to be, i just genuinely think that STF works better in longer form content.

i can’t help but wonder what exactly the intended audience for sofia the first royal magic will be. everyone in the original shows age demographic while airing is a teenager or adult now. and while a lot of fans are far from the age demographic, the new show definitely won’t be aimed at us.

i just wonder how well it’s going to do as a stand alone show, as many kids will end up watching it separate from the original series simply because it’s new. then again, it’s probably different now that we’re in the age of streaming, but i don’t see parents putting on the original 4 seasons just so their preschooler gets the lore for its spin-off. i have a nephew who’s in the age demographic, and his mom will just put on whatever’s on for kids the front page of a streaming service for him usually. if that’s the attitude for most parents, the show could come off pretty confusing and not super engaging to kids. and while it COULD be filled with exposition of the past 4 seasons, i fear that could get grating pretty quickly if not done correctly.

i’m sure the people working on the show have thought about the logistics, and i am absolutely thrilled for its release next year, i just kind of worry how well it will go over i guess. then again, sofia the first was a massive hit, so fingers crossed royal magic will bring in new and old fans to watch!

[chaosspelledwrong]

Wrote out an entire vent post and changed my mind. Into the tags you go.

[cravesunconditionallove]

Forgive my rant here, I can get wordy when I'm passionate about a topic :)

[Mild TW here for mentions of institutional abuse and explanations of brainwashing and trauma bonding.]

People talk a lot about trauma bonds and Stockholm Syndrome (which are one in the same), but I'm not sure I've ever seen a truly accurate representation—I talk as a survivor of brainwashing/coercive control and other various flavors of physical/psychological/emotional abuse in an institutional setting, for a year and a half. I became attached to my abuser(s).

Trauma bonding often thrives in situations where you're already isolated, emotionally fragile, and looking for guidance or care. Trauma bonds mimic attachment bonds, but are built on fear, shame, and intermittent positive reinforcement. They can feel as strong or even stronger than healthy bonds because of the emotional extremes involved.

At least in my experience:

You get attached to the people who hurt you, ESPECIALLY if they drop bits of validation or love here and there between the abuse and erosion of your self-confidence and attacks on your self-concept. It's like a lifeline; it's fully intentional. You begin to crave their care, maybe even their abuse, like a drug. Sometimes, you devolve into thinking, "any attention is good attention."

The small crumbs of approval or recognition can feel intensely rewarding in contexts where rejection, humiliation, or criticism is the norm. Their unpredictability keeps you tethered to them, always on your toes, hoping for positive reinforcement.

This is especially strengthened if the person is an authority figure (like my abuser was), in contexts where their approval is quite literally necessary, where you're literally dependent on them for everything—of course you'd want to do anything to make them like you.

You begin to believe them—you DO deserve the pain. You're fundamentally flawed, you're the one in the wrong. You also think that if you could just placate them, they'd stop being so bad to you. If you could just try harder, do it right, finally be what they want, it would be better. You'd do anything to get on their good side. You need it.

It's far from rational, but you have to understand, the brain does a lot of seemingly strange things to cope with traumatic environments. When your brain views the trauma as an existential threat, and you have to choose between staying sane and your identity? Well, there goes your identity.

I can't put a finger on why exactly I wanted my abuser's approval so bad, it was never a single, distinct, or tangible reason. It was and still is very confusing to me. I didn't consciously try to think this way—I just so strongly felt if I could just finally do what she wanted, be the obedient little thing she tried so hard to mold me into (and succeeded), she'd leave me alone (she did not). I started to wish to be punished by her, because if I got punished, in a twisted way it would garner her approval.

Something I also didn't consciously do—but realized later on—is that I put a lot of her into my interrogator character, their similarities are likely due to the fact that Bella's story is basically a bunch of my trauma responses in a trench coat.

My abuser was as evil as one can get without her physically harming another human being. Everything about her just screamed "wrong." Her smiles were predatory, calculated, fake. If you'd sharpened her teeth, it would have fit her character. I half thought that one day she was going to start seeping black ooze, as if her awfulness could reach a point where it breached containment. She was creepy, a sadist, someone who made it her goal to make me miserable. She enjoyed seeing me scared, hurt, begging. She was always so eerily calm, because she had to poise herself as the rational one. Because she was a therapist, she knew well how to weaponize her knowledge to break me. I trusted her, I was fifteen and still naive. Adults know best, right?

She used that trust against me.

It makes me sad to think about it, sometimes. I was not her first victim, nor was I her last. It's been a a good chunk of time since this all originally happened, and I can talk about it now and still feel okay. However, I'm still undoing the damage done, and will be for years to come.

Anyways, I hope this adds a bit of context to the topic of brainwashing/Stockholm Syndrome.

Whumpees do not love their whumpers, they've just developed Stockholm syndrome!

[nereidprinc3ss]

bambi

in which spencer reid and fem!reader fuck like they missed each other (because they always do) and he teases her for her shaky legs

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom spencer, piv sex (riding, a first for nereidprinc3ss) /oral f receiving (in that order) mentions of him accidentally grabbing her hips too hard, slight somno SORT OF like he starts going down on her while she’s sleepy and then she kind of goes in and out but its all consensual, sorry haters i fucking love sleepy sex and I always will, teasing, lots of praise, fluffy, established relationship, he loves her badddd, aftercare, literally nothing bad happens no angst for once they just are having sex cause they are in love which is arguably the most superior kind of sex! a/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written smut that is so wham bam thank you ma’am like really we just get RIGHT into it!! also no gif no pics we r going old nereidprinc3ss on this one I hope you loveeee!!!

You roll over onto Spencer and kiss once, long and deep and sweet. He hums into it, too whipped to pretend like he’s got self control or respect, hands finding the soft skin of your bare waist and settling there. 

How it got to this point so quickly, no more than fifteen minutes after he walked through the door, you can’t say. Usually the two of you are a bit more domestic when he gets home from a case, but eight days is a long time to be apart, and the trail of clothing leading from the welcome mat to the foot of the bed attests to that. 

So does the lack of teasing, of begging—at least, a lack up until this point. Right now, there’s only him, patient and content to let you play at being in charge. You pull back and reach down to grab him gently, aligning him at your entrance with a trembling hand. This part, you’re not usually responsible for. 

He assures you with a hand to the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. “You got it. Slowly.”

You do as he says, brow furrowing in focus as you sink down an inch or two onto him. Spencer’s breathing grows erratic as you take more and more of him, and in a heroic display of overachieving, you take the rest of him at once with nothing but a squeak. He laughs breathily as his fingers dig into your hips. 

“Fuck—I said slow.”

You can’t think. The overwhelm of it all is too much as you crumple forward onto his chest. The subtle rocking you’re doing to try and alleviate some of the pressure in your core is apparently too much as he stops you by the hips, fingers pressing into those same tender spots.

Spencer’s breath is ragged. “Don’t… do not move.”

“Fuck,” you breathe into his shoulder, long and drawn out as despite his wishes you wriggle around, trying to get comfortable. “Oh my god.”

“My lovely girl, please… please don’t move,” Spencer gasps, a plead, and you try to stop for him, nuzzling even deeper against his neck. “I need a minute.”

“It’s too much,” you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he can’t offer you. Maybe more. 

Spencer is undone by you—the way you writhe on top of him, the way your voice shakes, the way you’re so totally and completely overwhelmed and he can feel it and he loves it. 

“Baby,” he breathes, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but it’s the best he can manage when he is this overstimulated. “Baby,” he whispers again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you, to give you something else to focus on as you both get used to the feeling. 

It’s going well—for a moment, before your back is arching. 

“Spence, I need to move, I can’t—”

“Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath, returning his hands to your waist and mentally preparing himself not to cum early. He’s desperate to give you want you want, to feel you like this. “Go ahead. Move, honey. Please.”

By the time you slowly lift your hips up and drop back down with a low cry, Spencer’s lost. His head falls back against the pillow and his eyes squeeze shut. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, angel, I missed you.”

You do it again, motivated by his praise, and he can hear your little gasps and desperate gulps of air. 

“I missed you so much,” you whine and clench around him, pleasure so intense it’s a resounding ache in the far reaches of your body. “Oh, fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer shivers. He loves when you make it personal, when you say his name like that and it becomes clear this isn’t just about the physical.

“My girl. Just like that. Doing so well, baby, just like that.”

Each pass of your hips has you whining. Your lips skim over his neck, not cognizant enough to actually kiss—only to know that you want the contact. 

“Please can I go faster?”

Spencer almost doesn’t realize you’re speaking to him he’s so lost in pleasure. The idea of faster is as compelling as it is troublesome. Spencer doesn’t know if he can’t take faster, not when he has you like this, but he certainly wants to find out. 

“Yeah, lovely. Do whatever feels good.”

You readjust and begin to pick up the pace, stumbling over a few false starts as it’s clearly more sensation than you’d been prepared for. 

Spencer, on the other hand, has his eyes screwed shut tight, and is attempting to draw a two-dimensional Császár polyhedron on your back, but he loses his place with every twitch of your hips, so eventually he decides to trace imperfect Mandelbrots down your spine—anything to avoid thinking about how the pH of your body interacts with sweet vanilla perfume to create a scent so deeply intoxicating he’d leave his entire life behind just to trail after it, or how you fucking feel against him, on top of him, around him, how miraculous it is that you keep letting him touch you—

“Oh—” you whine quietly, a strangled sort of noise that has his heart skipping. Your hand tangles desperately in his hair as you rock your hips faster and faster and he lets out a tortured groan. “Spencer, oh my fucking god.”

“I know, baby,” he manages, endeared by the fact that you feel so good you have to share it with him. Even now you’re trying to explain it because you want him to be part of it—as if he doesn’t know exactly what you’re feeling already. “That feels good, huh?”

“Mm—f—eels—” you cut yourself off with a cry into the crook of his neck, and he holds the back of your head, vision greying as he stares unseeing at the ceiling because if he looks down this’ll be over too soon. 

“You’re so good,” he breathes, “you’re perfect.”He hears you gasp at the same time as your rhythm falters, and presses a kiss somewhere indiscriminately on your head. “Gonna cum?” He murmurs in your ear, and you nod desperately, rutting against him hopelessly as your thighs tremble from exertion. 

Even the smallest drop-off in friction has his head spinning like he stood up too quickly, so he gives himself enough leverage to start fucking you. You cry out and shift your weight like you’re going to try and evade the feeling—self-sabotage, you always do this—and he again has to hold your hips in an iron vice, just to force you to feel it. 

“You’re okay, I’m gonna get you there.”

“Fuck!” You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changes—you get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm. 

“Good girl,” Spencer murmurs, being careful in the way he continues to fuck you until he reaches his peak as well, not long after. You shudder, and Spencer feels the way your entire body tenses the way it sometimes does after a particularly strong orgasm, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. Relax, baby.”

And you do, unwound by the dance of his hand and with a few shallow breaths that gradually deepen, until you’re once more slack on top of him. 

“You’re incredible,” he exhales, with his lips pressed to your hairline. 

So clearly overwhelmed, the only response you can muster is a soft squeak. Spencer laughs fondly, still mapping the soft curve of your back. He feels the way you’re still attempting to train your breathing and kisses your hair again. “What do you need, angel?”

“I’m s’posed to be taking care of you,” you slur. Spencer chuckles again and his brow knits. 

“According to who?”

“According to… I was on top…”

“Yeah. You did all the hard stuff. Your legs are shaking.”

You whine softly. “No they’re not.”

His hand slides down to your thigh, and he rubs the trembling muscles. 

“No? No Bambi legs for me this time?”

You squeeze them around his waist like you could shrink away from his touch. “Spence…”

“I’m teasing you, honey,” he murmurs, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “You’re cute.”

“Hm.”

“Look at me,” he murmurs, angling his head expectantly as you slowly raise yours. The look on your face is so sweet—eyes half lidded, lips swollen and much higher in color than usual. Your cheek is warm to the touch. His heart flutters like it did on your first date, and the first time he kissed you, and the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder. This view will never get old. “Wow. Look at you, beautiful girl. Can I have a kiss?”

And you grant him his wish, with a long, soft kiss that’s worth every second of that burning feeling in his lungs, every time. 

Eventually you huff out the remainder of your air against his well-kissed lips and your head flops to his chest. 

“I’m sleepy.”

“So go to sleep,” he murmurs, so warm from your kiss he feels nothing could be wrong in the world at this moment. 

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause you just got home ’nd I missed you and I wanna spend time with you.”

“We have three days to spend together. If you go to sleep now, we’ll actually get more time together tomorrow.”

“But it’s more about, like, how it feels—how much time it feels like we spend together right when you get home, and if I go to sleep now, it’s gonna feel like less time, and—basically you’re just not understanding my math.”

“What math?” He laughs, continuing to rub your legs all the way up to your hips, at which point you hiss and buck—a very visceral feeling when he’s still inside of you. “What? What hurts?”

“You tried to fucking tear my hip flexors from my body, is what hurts,” you grumble. 

“Tender?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m really sorry, angel. Tylenol?”

“Mm-mm. Can you kiss me better?” Sleep stains your voice. Spencer smiles to himself. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Lie down.”

Again you whine as you slip off of him, landing heavily on your back. He sits up, watches with so much affection the way you squeeze your thighs together and arch ever so slightly against the empty feeling. 

“Spencer?” You whisper as he cups the top of your knees. 

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He pushes your legs apart gently so he can settle in between them and kisses you again. “I love you. So much.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

He presses a kiss to your head, down your neck, taking the scenic route to your hip bones, but you don’t seem to mind. 

The feeling of his lips gentle on the tender flesh has you humming softly, eyes fluttering shut as he showers you with gentle kisses. His traces every place his fingers had pressed earlier—feels the way you relax further underneath him. Nobody’s ever let him in this deeply before, but you trust him with everything you have; your body, your soul, in life or death, awake and in sleep. He’ll never take that for granted. He will never pass on an opportunity like this, to be the one who takes care of you, who puts you back together, as long as you’ll let him. 

Still dancing the line of consciousness, you part your legs, the slow drag of your bare thigh like a jumper cable to his heart. Fingertips trace desirous paths up your inner thigh and back down again. He recognizes this invitation for what it is, and he knows exactly how to give you what you want, but he asks first anyway. 

“Was that on purpose?”

“I d’know what you mean. I’m so sleepy,” you slur, and he believes the second half of your statement to be fact. 

Spencer pushes your thigh a little higher, and you’re completely pliable for him, completely gorgeous. As soon as he skims your thigh with a barely-there kiss, exactly the way you like, you’re lacing a hand in his hair. 

“Please, Spence…” you murmur, and he can’t argue with that. He especially can’t argue when you widen your legs just that slightest bit more, and your arousal is opalescent between your legs. 

He hums, trailing more kisses up until he’s setting the softest one yet against your clit. “Beautiful girl…”

The following gasp is so tiny he could’ve missed it if he wasn’t so attuned to your noises—and then he gets lost in you, making sure to keep his ministrations light as you already came twice recently and are sure to be sensitive. He doesn’t want to wake you from whatever twilight half-slumber trance you’re in, either, sensing that if he does you’ll fight all over again to stay up.

And admittedly, he adores being trusted to take care of you like this.

Your back arches as much as you’re capable of in this state, and he can’t help the way he just barely suctions onto you at that moment, coaxing a sighing moan so sweet and vulnerable and open it gives him chills. Fuck. He really wants to make you cum. But instead he practices patience, tracing you with the tip of his tongue, pressing gentle kisses everywhere you need them—he draws it out. For he doesn’t know how long. 

The first time you get close, your hips begin to roll, and you spout little ah’s, but he talks you back down again, laughing lightly at your angelic cooing, your little sounds of sleepy pleasure. Even now you’re so responsive, moving against his mouth as he slips a finger into your soaked entrance, fucks you for a moment, and then retreats. Maybe he’s being unfair, but you don’t seem to mind. 

In fact, you’re slipping in and out of sleep as he devours you for what feels like hours, one hand pressed lovingly to your stomach, stroking the soft skin there. Spencer’s never had this long to explore you with his mouth and he takes full advantage of every moment, but he keeps all his kisses and licks and touches gentle and reverent and so loving. 

You don’t know how long it’s been, or how many times he’s made you cum when he finally retreats—you half-wake just as he’s finishing cleaning you up. Soon he tosses the towel aside and presses feather-light kisses to each of your cheeks, tear-stained and warm with pleasure. You feel completely drained and completely loved. 

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs, climbing into bed with you, at some point having gotten dressed. 

You manage an embarrassed little laugh. More tears crawl down your cheeks as you roll to your side. Spencer brushes them away and pulls you into him, slinging your thigh over his waist. He chuckles. 

“Shaky?”

“Stop,” you whine, embarrassed by his teasing, and hide your face against his chest. “That’s not my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. It’s sweet,” he insists as he rubs your back. And then, a moment later, “So—do you think we’ve spent enough time together for tonight?”

“No.”

He sighs good-naturedly. 

“You’re gonna wear me out, you know that?”

“’F you… can’t handle the heat… get outta the kitchen.”

When he next speaks you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Go to sleep, Bambi. Let’s see if you can walk in the morning.”