#so this is probably getting into like the later part of the year when he's ready to invite people

[jordiemeow]

CHALLENGERS ANNIVERSARY BOT RELEASE ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

04/05/25

happy terribly late challengersversary!! and thank u for 1k followers that's insane i adore u all. crazy to me how fun of a place this has become and i can’t believe it’s been an entire year since the movie came out omg. shoutout to tashi duncan for bringing us all together to fujo out like this. yeah x10!!

also dropped the android bots temporarily bc i know a few people got reqs for them for this release! they'll be out in the future but i wanna make a tashi one too so i can post them all at once :) as usual all bots are gender neutral unless specified otherwise.

enjoy! <3

ART TASHI PATRICK

ATP art x tashi x patrick x user

One coach is strenuous enough. Two gives you a headache. But three people barking orders at you for hours every day… it's enough to drive any sane person crazy. Especially when your coaches are known to get a little more... handsy, than what should really be appropriate.

ART AND PATRICK

THREE'S A CROWD art x patrick x user

Three's a crowd. or, at least, it should be. The three of you are thick as thieves—both your boyfriends, and each other's best friends. But you see the way they look at each other, the way they get a little too lost in each other when you're all tangled up in bed together. They aren't as discreet as they think they are. Your poor little repressed white boys.

UNOFFICIAL THIRD art x patrick x user

Moving into a rural town with no stable job probably wasn't the smartest decision you've ever made. But two of the local farmers are friendly enough to offer you a job helping around their farm. Two boyfriends, Art and Patrick, who seem just a little too keen to keep you around for a monogamous couple.

TRUTH OR DARE art x patrick x user

It's always Patrick, isn't it? None of you are surprised when he proposes a game of truth or dare the summer before college starts, sitting out in the sand in front of his parent's beach house. Aow bad could it possibly go? (Spoiler: very.)

ART DONALDSON

KIDS HAVING KIDS art donaldson x user (m4f)

Meeting Art in your freshman year of college was great. He had the potential to be a perfect boyfriend—you just never expected it all to happen so quickly. Fast forward to two years later and the pair of you are juggling an unplanned baby, your future careers, and enough homework to drown in. at least you have each other.

ALTAR BOY art donaldson x user

Art's a good Christian boy. Says his prayers before bed every night, serves as his father's altar boy when he's preaching, and wears his purity ring as if it's a physical part of him. Which is why he feels real guilty about all the thoughts his brain is conjuring up about the new kid in town. And against his better judgement, he finds himself seeking you out more and more.

IMPOTENT art donaldson x user

It's embarrassing. Thirty-two years old and he struggles to get it up. Patrick says it's normal for a man of his lifestyle, but he knows he's just saying that to make him feel better. And with you, his young new partner, he doesn't know what to do with himself. He can't just keep making excuses when you try to take it further; one man only needs to run to the bathroom so much. Maybe it's time to finally come clean.

MERYTON BALL art donaldson x user (m4f)

When your mother mentions a new young man moving into netherfield park, you don't think too much of it. An eligible bachelor that all the girls will be swarming to at the first event he shows his face at, no doubt. But the man in question, Art Donaldson, seems to take a shine to you, and you can't possible turn down such a sweet, bashful smile.

SLIP OF THE TONGUE art donaldson x user (m4f)

Well, this is very awkward. In the heat of the moment, with you perched atop him and your bodies slick with sweat, Art accidentally let the word mommy slip. He's never been so mortified in his life; it's never a term you've discussed using, and the surprise on your face was clear. Embarrassed, he takes to avoiding you after that—but you're his girlfriend. He can't ignore you forever.

JUST A TRIM art donaldson x user

Just a trim. That's what you said when you plucked the pair of hair scissors out of your bag and made your husband sit down at your kitchen table with a towel draped over his shoulders. But, as you run your fingers through his curls, you can't help but think how handsome he'd look with his hair cut a little shorter. How much more mature he'd look without those boyish ringlets.

TRINKETS art donaldson x user

Art normally keeps to himself—he's accidentally lured more than a few pure souls to their demise with his siren song over the course of his life. Now, he watches from afar, transfixed by the humans along the shore that come to swim or play in the rock pools. When you move into one of the houses by the shore, he thinks you're absolutely wonderful. He's too shy to talk to you, of course, but that doesn't stop him from leaving little gifts for you: trinkets he's discovered from sunken ships or on the ocean bed. And then one night the moonlight emboldens him enough to find you on the shore.

PATRICK ZWEIG

BOY DAD patrick zweig x user (m4f)

Your baby daddy is a real pain. The kind that doesn't even bat an eye when your son comes home saying swear words after the spending the weekend with him, and texts you to confirm details he should know about his five-year-old. At the end of the day, though, your kid loves him. Maybe you still love him, too.

DESK CLUMP patrick zweig x user

Once upon a time, Patrick Zweig was destined for greatness. Now, in his mid-twenties, he's found himself working a shitty desk job for a sales company he couldn't care less about. Amidst all the dullness and depression of the modern office, at least he has you to make him feel better about himself. That one weird co-worker who he shares a desk clump with and looks considerably more miserable than him. Plus, you're kinda cute.

GIRL DAD patrick zweig x user (m4f)

When you told your friends you were pregnant, they weren't sure whether to congratulate you or pat you on the back and tell you everything would work out. "Are you sure?" Your mother had asked, when you delivered the news. But despite everyone's doubts about the father, Patrick has proven himself; he's settled down, and after years of being alone, he has a family to come home to. Doesn't mean he isn't still the same idiot you fell in love with.

NUISANCE patrick zweig x user

One of your roommates is a total nuisance. Art is clean enough, but Patrick is a slob. Probably because he grew up with a maid to clean after his ass and Art to keep their room tidy enough for inspections at the Academy... he also has no sense of space and just never leaves you the fuck alone.

WEIRDO patrick zweig x user

Patrick isn't really sure what it is about you. Maybe it's the fact that you don't care about putting up an image to impress him. Maybe it's the way you look adorable with your glasses on and your nose in a book. Either way, he's just completely smitten with you. You're a weirdo... but you're his weirdo.

SINGLE MOTHER patrick zweig x user (m4f)

The moment you brought up having a toddler, Patrick should have booked it. He was sorely tempted, mind you—it's a lot of commitment getting involved with a woman that already has a kid. He's never been the settling down type in the first place. But he really likes you, and after being introduced to your son, he realises he likes him too. Ugh. What a predicament.

TASHI DUNCAN

WHO WOULDN'T BE? tashi duncan x user

Is it a little snaky of you? Yeah, probably. But Patrick just isn't good enough for her! you tell yourself you're doing her a favour. As her best friend, it's your job to steer her away from her asshole of a boyfriend, even if that involves telling a few white lies.

SOLAR POWER tashi duncan x user

Tashi doesn't really get much time to just relax. If she isn't playing tennis, she's at press conferences or sponsorship meetings. She's the most hard-working person you know, especially at her age. So you're a little surprised when she suggests a trip to the beach... but there's no way you're turning down seeing her all chilled out in a bikini.

TUTORIAL tashi duncan x user

When you start seeing Art, your lack of experience doesn't even cross your mind. He seems like an innocent enough guy to you, after all. But when your best friend keeps telling you stories patrick has passed out about all the people art has been with at the academy, maybe you get a little insecure. And maybe you've been whining about it to Tashi for the last few weeks. So, eventually, she caves—she can teach you a few things. It's not as if her boyfriend will mind. He'll just be mad he isn't there to watch.

SUNSHINE tashi duncan x user

After her injury, Tashi was miserable. The first few weeks of working with her, she was cold and snappy, the opposite of your warm smiles and encouraging words. Barely said a word to you unless it was to tell you she was fine or to fuck off. But she's taking it out on the wrong person. You're only trying to help, after all—it's your job. So eventually she warms up to you, and the hostile greetings eventually turn into smiles and coffee placed on your desk before you begin her sessions. She's still a little moody sometimes, though.

COVER GIRL tashi duncan x user

The name 'Tashi Duncan' is quickly becoming known by everyone in the modelling world. Dhe's been on the cover of Vogue, inspired a whole new Chanel collection. With her face on half the billboards in the country, she doesn't have the time to be answering calls and sending emails, so she takes on an assistant: you. The job pays well, and it's a good way into the industry, but... she's a lot more of a brat than you were expecting when you took the job.

taglist: @tacobacoyeet @blastzachilles @gracelynnx @femme-lusts @voidsuites @cha11engers @magicalmiserybore @m4lodr4ma @newrochellechallenger2019 @coolgrl111 @peachyparkerr @stanart4clearskin @misswrldd @kaalxpsia @downtwngrl @pittsick @strfallz @artspats @dazedandconfusedlvr @turnerrst @elsieblogs

[chuxmy]

Hello! (First of all, please forgive my bad English, it's not my first language)

Could I make a request where the reader is Si-eun's sister, maybe a year or a few months younger and his friends come to his house to visit him and then meet her. At first they are confused because they think Si-eun is dating someone but they soon find out everything. The romantic partner could be Gotak. Please and thank you! :)

Not his girlfriend

Pairings: Go Hyuntak (Gotak) x Siuen‘s Sister!Reader

Summary: You had no choice but to open the door and you are already a victim.

Warnings: light flirting, mild language

The doorbell rang at exactly 2:03 p.m.

You sat on the couch, legs crossed under you, headphones in, lazily scrolling on your phone. The apartment smelled faintly of coffee and the instant noodles Sieun had made but only taken two bites of before returning to his room with a book under his arm.

You didn’t even flinch at the sound.

The doorbell rang again, followed by aggressive knocking.

You sighed, pulling one earbud out. “Sieun!” you called. “Someone’s at the door!”

From down the hall. “You get it.”

“Why? It’s probably your weird friends again.”

“Exactly.”

You grumbled, rising to your feet. You had on shorts and an oversized hoodie that probably belonged to Sieun at some point. Your hair was a mess, and your face well, you hadn’t expected to see anyone important today.

You opened the door.

And three pairs of eyes blinked back at you in surprise.

There they were Park Humin, Seo Juntae, and Go Hyeontak, standing awkwardly in the hallway, each holding something: drinks, snacks, and a bag of chips, respectively.

You tilted your head.

They stared.

“Oh,” said Juntae, blinking rapidly. “We… uh… Sorry—did we get the wrong place?”

“No,” said Gotak slowly, frowning. “Wait… Who are you?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Who are you?”

Humin pointed at you like he’d just cracked a conspiracy. “Is this- are you his girlfriend?”

You blinked. Then barked a laugh. “Ew. No.”

“Wait,” said Gotak, narrowing his eyes. “You sure?”

“Dead sure.”

You turned around and yelled into the apartment, “Sieun! Your friends think I’m your girlfriend!”

A moment later, footsteps approached, and Yeon Sieun appeared, looking mildly irritated. “Don’t scream weird things,” he muttered.

Then he looked at the guys. “What are you all doing just standing there?”

“You didn’t tell us someone else was here,” Juntae said, his voice full of suspicion.

“She lives here,” Sieun said simply. “She’s my sister.”

Your eyes met Gotak’s again as you stepped aside to let them in. You noticed then just briefly his gaze lingered on your legs before he looked away quickly.

“Hi,” you said dryly. “I’m Y/N. Unfortunately related to this emotionally constipated guy.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Juntae, grinning now that the mystery was solved. “That was honestly, a wild thirty seconds.”

Humin nodded. “We seriously thought you two were dating. Sieun’s expression wasn’t helping.”

Gotak said nothing, but you felt his eyes on you again when he thought you weren’t looking.

The boys settled in the living room, drinks and snacks sprawled across the table. You mostly stayed on the edge of the room, half listening as you played a game on your phone, curled in a corner of the couch opposite Gotak.

It was a rare day when Sieun had people over, and rarer still when you didn’t feel invisible in your own house.

“He’s like this all the time?” Juntae asked you suddenly, pointing at Sieun.

You smirked. “You mean uptight and emotionally unavailable? Yeah. It’s like living with a robot who judges you for breathing too loudly.”

Sieun didn’t even react. He flipped a page in his book like he wasn’t even part of the conversation.

Gotak chuckled lowly. “So you got the personality in the family.”

You arched a brow. “That a compliment?”

He tilted his head. “Depends. You want it to be?”

You looked at him more carefully this time black shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, lazy grin playing on his lips, a dimple peeking when he smiled fully.

Maybe not as dumb as he looked.

“Let’s just say… I’ll take it,” you replied.

Juntae made a loud oooh noise from beside him.

“Are you flirting with my sister?” Sieun asked without looking up.

Gotak didn’t miss a beat. “Not if you shoot me.”

You laughed, a real one this time, and Gotak looked at you with something like triumph. He leaned a little back, but you could feel it, his eyes found you again every few minutes, like he was trying to figure out where he stood.

You didn’t give him much. Not yet.

Sieun retreated to his room again eventually too much talking, too much noise. The others were still chatting, and you stayed, amused by their banter. Somehow, you and Gotak ended up washing the dishes after dinner. You scrubbed, he dried.

“Seriously though,” he said, quieter now, “I thought you were his girlfriend. Gave me a heart attack.”

You glanced at him. “Disappointed?”

“Honestly?” He met your gaze, smile softening. “Kind of. You’re cool.”

You stared at him for a second longer than necessary. “I think that was flirting again.”

He grinned. “You gonna report me to Sieun?”

You smirked. “Only if you suck at it.”

The silence between you stretched, warm and awkward in the best way.

“Do you… want my number?” he asked.

You handed him a dry plate.

“Smooth,” you said. “Try again after you don’t smell like garlic chips.”

He laughed, head tilted back, genuinely amused.

“Challenge accepted.”

As the boys left, Gotak paused at the door, hands stuffed into his pockets.

“See you around.” he said your name, giving you a look you felt in your stomach.

You nodded, just a little, before closing the door behind them.

From his room, Sieun called out, “Don’t date my friends.”

You called back, “No promises.”

And you swore, you could hear him sigh.

[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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[leihaddock]

Let's imagine Steve and Bucky who were well established in their local queer community. Because they lived in one of the few underground queer cities at the time, and it seems damn near impossible that they *wouldn't* know other queer people

Actually, for that, we probably should talk about Sarah first:

as a nurse she saw it as her duty to help anyone and everyone, no question asked and no matter where they come from, and soon developed a reputation for just that

so she had all sorts of people come to her for help

including queer folks in gender and/or sexuality, what we'd nowadays call drag queens and kings, disabled folks, people of colour, jews and so on

little Stevie grows up around a very diverse group of people

when he was only a couple of years old, he asked Sarah ie why that woman had a beard, and she'd explained to him that there are all kinds of people and there was nothing wrong with being "transsexual" or with men liking other men or women liking other women

and that if he ever found out he was like them, she wouldn't care and love him all the same

and that was one of the lessons that stayed with him, along with always getting back up, always protecting those in need of protection, and later from his own experiences, that he didn't like bullies

the community Sarah builds around herself ends up protecting Steve more than once, no matter how much he hates accepting help

So at some point Steve and Bucky meet and befriend each other and become inseparable. And of course the older they get the more people talk. That they're too close, that that sickly Rogers boy is a fairy (or that he's a waste of oxygen and should be dead, let alone ever reproduce), that there are so many pretty girls for Bucky to choose from. You get the idea

Sarah of course figures out they're dating pretty much immediately. she knows her son, she loves Bucky like her own like she knows the Barnes family does in turn for Steve

To me the Barnes family is supportive but it took them some time because they're the "ideal" middle class family and their oldest son being a fairy wasn't quite ideal but they love Steve and Bucky too much to give a rat's ass about it later on

and with all the people Steve grew up knowing and introduced Bucky to, they have plenty of friends, even if they'd choose each other over the world on any given day

society as a whole wasn't kind to them, would never be kind to them, they knew as much, but they weren't alone

sapphic couples to go on double dates with as a cover (though Bucky goes out of his way to find more women to date as a cover, lest people ask too many questions)

underground bars to meet at, in the "bad" parts of town, to drink and kiss and be a normal couple for once

meet artists of all flavours, punks (our modern definition, relative to the time), go to protests and rallies for women's rights and workers' rights

Bucky meets other jewish queer folks, too, to his delight

they run from cops more than once

lose more than one friend in that time too, who got found out and sent to "conversion therapy" at best, but more than once was found beaten to a pulp in the street

Sarah passes away and Steve is distraught, but he's not alone in mourning, her funeral has so so many of the people she'd helped in her life, and there's some solace in that, despite feeling more alone than ever

Bucky moves in with him and they get those few happy years with a lot of the same they'd done since becoming a couple, before the war comes

not only is Steve upset he can't join the war effort, he's now seeing his friends joining, getting drafted, or denied for the same reasons he is. queer women join en mass and he knows he'd find his people there too, but they just won't let him

then Bucky gets drafted and TFA plays (mostly) as we know it

their friends freak the fuck out when Steve's suddenly gone, then shows up as "Captain America"

some of the chorus girls pick up on Steve being queer, and suddenly the whole group feels a lot more comfortable around him, and he actually ends up enjoying their company a lot

the Howlies don't care, Howard doesn't care, Peggy is a Nazi so her view doesn't matter, no one really does, and they get to be pretty open about their relationship, with everyone covering for them

Bucky falls

the Barnes family gets a letter on what happened to Bucky, from Steve, and suddenly they know that they'll lose both their sons/brothers in that war, because there's no Steve without Bucky and no Bucky without Steve

they've always known it would end like that, but just like Steve, they'd never expected Bucky to be the one to die first

Steve puts the plane down

When he's confirmed alive in the 21st century, not only do the families of the Howlies reach out to him, who'd spread far by then

not only the Barnes family, Bucky's niblings and, hell, grand niblings (who all also insist on calling Steve their uncle, because that's who he is to them, and Steve cries at that)

but also all the children and grandchildren of the community he and Bucky had been part of

that had seen so much loss, he gets told, in the 80s and 90s, and before that, but still stands strong as ever and he's welcomed back with open arms

because those people, too, were his family

he's also told how after his death, some asshole wanted to discredit him for being queer, and all the people he'd ever known jumped to help him

his and Bucky's relationship was their families' best kept secret

that loss still weighs heavy on him, so he doesn't have the energy for pride, but there's something about queer rights having advanced enough that people like him can get married, that fills him with both overwhelming joy and longing

then Bucky is alive, and after everything is said and done, they come out to the world and get married, for real, not the fake wedding their community had thrown for them, or the one the Howlies did

and the rest is history

[nicohii]

(Actor! Caleb x Writer! Non-MC reader part 2. And I'll probably make this a series, this is unedited I am so sorry)

part one here

Your phone vibrates two weeks later with a familiar contact photo popping on the screen. You don't have the strength in you to let the call die so you pick up. 

"Hey" , Caleb starts.

"Hey" you softly answered back 

"I was just wondering if.... I mean... I was just... I just wanted to say sorry. I didn't mean that. Not that way. You're writing is perfect. It's very mean of me. I'm sorry. "

You can imagine him fidgeting on the other line. You chew on your bottom lip before muttering an, "It's okay. It's fine. You know, I can never hate you, C."

He exhales through the mic. "Let's catch up? Soon? We can play that new game you talked about that just got released, yeah? Like old times? "

"Sure. Like old times "

You turn the call off and stare into the ceiling of your kitchen. Puffing out the breath you've holding. It's something you've been mulling over and over for the past couple of months, the idea of the world beyond Caleb. He's your muse, but sometimes, love doesn't really reach the one's you want it to doesn't it? And maybe that's the universe telling you the unspoken. 

The years have come by with you artistry focused on whom the heart beats for, but really what happens after that? He's made it clear (kinda) and maybe it's time. 

So you gather whatever's left of dignity you have and make a vow to yourself. Love isn't just some boy (turned man) you have pined for your entire life, maybe there's a differenr form of it out there for you to find. So you forgive yourseld for the pain you blame yourself for. 

The world is big, you forgive and you try, you will try, and you will get by. 

-------------------------------------

Actor! Caleb sees you for a brief while during Comic con, and you're currently discussing with backstage staff. You wave at him before going back into a deep conversation, he stares at you for a while before coming down back to Earth when a figure zooms past him to run into your arms.

Actress! MC pratically latches into you, arms around your neck as you spin her around. Two friends reunited.

He hates the tinge of jealousy, of whom, he isn't sure. Like, it's okay to see his ex hug you and you return it with no hesitation and she gets to talk to you with no awkwardness whatsoever. But like, come on, how come she gets to hug you like that but you can't even look at him in the eyes? How is that fair? He can feel his pout come in, he wants to sulk, to tell her to back off and ---

"Hey guys, you're up." A staff tells him and his co-stars, MC finally let's go of you and you exchange schedules before she joins them on stage.

-----------------

Actor! Caleb, who sways the whole room with his charm and humor. Honestly, he is every PR reps dream client; knows how to answer the crowd to warm them up but not spill any major spoilers, he's updated with fan theories and what not and knows how to work around them. They announce a renewed season but don't spill any date yet.

Alongside him though, equally entertaining the crowd with their exchange of inside jokes and quips, is his co-star, Actor! Sylus.

A particular fan asks him a question, something about his future projects to which Actor! Sylus replies with, "I think I want to try directing some time in the future."

---------------

Actor! Sylus who pats him on the shoulder as they go down the stairs and into the backstage booth. He sits down with Actor! Caleb and Actress! MC in the dressing room to cool down.

"So directing! Do you have any genre in mind?" Caleb asks as he opens his bottled water as Sylus wipes his face with make up remover.

"No, not yet, I do however, have my interest on one writer's portfolio. I like the vulnerability and emotional rawness, you know?" The man replies which makes his other two companions stare at him.

"What? I have range too you know, this action-packed roles get too dull."

It's MC who shrugs, "I mean, that's true. Do you have a name for this writer of yours? "

Actor! Caleb who feels an ugly feeling in his chest when Sylus says your name. The deep crease in his brow makes MC snort. He asks her with his eyes and she just gives him a shrug. He asks Sylus why, only to be replied with, why not?

"You should watch their screenplays, it's like... an ode, a series of love letters to someone, nothing more screams art than that right?"

Actress! MC who watches everything in amusement before elbowing him, "Well, you better lock in, Colonel."

What does that even mean?

-----------------

Actor! Caleb who spends a whole month watching your screenplays, from your earliest works, episodes, indies, shorts, feature films, everything that has your goddamn name on it.

Actor! Caleb who freezes in his couch when it finally makes sense. Who feels like he's drowning when the credits finally roll in. He finds it hard to breathe and suddenly the room feels too big and empty, like his skin begs for a familiar pair of arms to hold him.

It's there, the messages hidden perfectly well only for him to find, the little details that you have picked from real life, from moments -- moments you have shared with him. Inside jokes that only he knows the punchline to.

How can you tell him you can't capture love well when... when all he feels is the overwhelming warmth of your yearning? Have you always loved him this much? Have you always looked at him with these eyes? Almost like he was something so precious even he can't see it himself? How can you stand by with all the hurt and ---

He almost feels dizzy from standing up too fast, taking his phone from his kitchen table. He dials your number, the call doesn't go through. He dials again.

It's around the third missed call that you send him a text.

"In a meeting. Ttyl."

"Who? "

It's the longest three minutes of his life.

"Producer. Director. Anyway, I'll prolly gonna do a raincheck on that game night. Need to write a new project. Sorry."

"Is Sylus directing? "

There's three dots. Before it stops. It comes alive again.

"Yeah. How'd you know? "

tagging everyone who asked (and commented ) on the first part (ily guys sm)

@mcdepressed290 @lillycore @wegottastayfocus @raendarkfaerie @fishwasher8 @persephonejeon @his-ocean-emissary @maskedbunni

[imnez-daydreams]

yeah you wish that i was yours (so do i)

pairing : andrew “pope” cody x reader

warnings : fighting, manhandling, choking, blood, licking of said blood, injury, jealousy, pope makes j watch him and reader, pope calls reader “kid”, “baby” n "my girl".

summary : what happens when you keep pushing pope to play fight with you. (except they are both also yearning idiots in love).

w/c : 2.6k words (yes i may have gotten carried away)

a/n : im super² sick but i could. not. get my ask and this thought from @erwinsvow out of my head so i decided to try and churn my inspiration from lovely shea into this fic. i just finished s1 and this is my first time writing pope so i hope i got his character okay :”)). apologies if this isn't the best work, i'm literally curled up and still burning up as i'm writing this booo. dividers are credited to @saradika-graphics. hope you enjoy !! do like, comment or reblog (or send hot soup) if you did <33

The first strike is the day when Pope gets out of prison. 

You’re standing dumbstruck with your bought meal still in hand when you spot him sitting in the middle of the couch. He’s so … real this time. You must look like an idiot to the rest of the family, still in shock. (Maybe Pope would let you in on this secret later on in your relationship, but when he saw you again, he felt that you were as beautiful as the day he lost you). 

Pope’s eyes travel down your frame, soaking in every detail of you, memorising you as if he didn't have every pixel of every picture you mailed him ingrained in the hardwires of his brain. When his eyes flit back up to meet yours, you feel something start to unlock behind those walls. 

Your eye twitches when you notice how close Smurf is next to him. You hate how she’s already sunken her venomous claws back into Pope, probably starting to scheme how she can puppeteer him again. You want to save Pope, get him away from the void that sinks its teeth in you and never leaves, not entirely, even when you think you’re free. So you do the thing all Cody’s are good at, starting a fight.

“Move, you’re in my spot.” You try to keep your voice even as possible, as if seeing Pope in person after all these years didn’t sweep the rug out from under your feet.

“Hey lay off, Pope’s only been back a couple hours. And since when is that spot y-” You cut off Baz by squeezing in the free space that separates Pope from the end of the couch.

You make yourself comfortable, well as comfortable as you can being so close to Pope again, and place your feet in his lap (despite having more than enough space). Pope glances down at how you've made yourself at home in his lap, then at you. You raise an eyebrow, trying to seem unbothered and rest your side against the back of the couch. 

The family starts talking about their business again, making you begin to lose interest. Just as your eyelids start to drop though, you catch Smurf smoothing her hand over Pope’s curls. Something stirs in you. The part of your brain that makes you do stupid things.

You kick your foot in Pope’s lap, wanting to annoy him. (Wanting him to pay attention to you instead). It works slightly, with him gripping your ankle. But he’s still looking forward. Staring out into space, shielded, guarded, as if the two of you didn't share secrets as kids. As if he wasn't your guard dog the moment he laid eyes on your trembling frame, when Smurf introduced you to the family shortly after she found Catherine. It’s not enough. So you put on a show. Making crude jokes, poking and prodding at him, laying on the snarky attitude.

Pope thinks this is unlike you, unlike his childhood sweetheart friend. He puts together that you must want something, not him obviously but maybe just some attention. Pope doesn't mean to be that aggressive, a sentiment he reserves only for you. But this new kid is unnerving him. It unsettles him, how J quietly laughs at your bad attempts of mean jokes, how his eyes occasionally roam over you. It's why he's been staring straight instead of at you. If Pope gets lost in the sight of you, he wouldn't be able to stand guard. Except J’s gaze dips down, making Pope follow his eyeline. Realising the kid has the nerve to travel his eyes down to the small bit of exposed skin, when your kicking of him makes your shirt ride up.

Pope’s jaw clenches and you think you've finally gotten to him. But he pounces on you so fast that you almost get whiplash.

What the fuck?

Pope is hovering over you, your wrists pinned by one hand, his knees spreading your legs apart to accommodate his frame. You feel his free hand sliding down the front of your shirt, but your confusion is quickly brushed off when Baz cuts in,

“Fuckin’ cut it out you two! I don’t need another headache right now.” 

That signature heavy stare remains on you for a couple more seconds, almost like Pope is trying to decipher you. Then, he grunts and lets go of your hands, moving off the couch completely. 

The second strike is when you both get into a screaming match. Well, more like you’re shouting and Pope is Pope still. The job had gone wrong and he had refused to accept your care until you had finished stitching up Deran’s bullet wound. Even though Pope was very visibly concussed and in pain. The whole time you attended to Deran, you kept stealing glances at Pope, just to make sure he was still alive and kicking (it's what you tell yourself), only to find him already staring straight at you. Keeping your tongue tied, you busied yourself with patching up the boys. Until they all went off, leaving you and Pope alone. Giving you the empty space to berate Pope for his lack of self-importance when it comes to his family. 

“Drop it, kid.” Pope grumbles out, passing by you to take a drink from the fridge.

“No, no. You’re not doing to me (to yourself).” You respond, putting all your might into pushing his back that's facing you.

Pope feels the force from your shove, his strong arm slamming against the cool fridge door to brace himself. His shoulders are hunched. His head hung low. You can feel the tension brewing inside of him. That barely contained anger simmering beneath the surface. He straightens up when he swivels around, dark eyes meeting yours. 

“I don't think you really want to play this game with me kid.” Pope stalks towards you, his footsteps not making a sound.

You scoff, meeting him halfway and getting in his face.

“Why? Afraid you’ll lose? Think y-” You don't get to finish your sentence because Pope’s hand wraps around your throat.

It’s light, not enough to constrict your airflow too much. He’s holding back again. You hate it. You hate him. That’s a lie you repeat to yourself when Pope slams your back to the wall. You despise him because even now in his anger, he still places his free hand behind your skull. Cushioning your pretty little head leaving your back to feel most of the ache. But you want more. More pain that only Pope can give to you. (Or maybe you want Pope to give his pain to you).

Pope tilts his head down to make sure you’re looking right at him. Closing the gap between you two, he whispers against your lips,

“If you play that game with me kid, the only way it ends is with you face down on my bed. I won't stop giving it to you, even if you're begging so sweetly. You want that huh? You want me?” Pope tightens his hold on your throat, but you can sense the vulnerability spilling out at the last sentence.  

“Say, I’m sorry Andrew, c’mon kid.” Pope breaks eye contact to give you this command, whispering in your ear.

“I’m s-sorry … Andrew.” You manage to gasp out.

Satisfied, Pope softens his hold on you, rubbing the sensitive skin on your neck. He plants a soft kiss at the top of your head, so gentle you almost think you imagined it.

“Good. There’s my baby again.”

The last strike is when most of the family is lounging by the pool.

You can feel Pope staring at you.

Sometimes you think he stares harder when he thinks you aren't looking. Smurf’s out somewhere on a task so all the brothers are playing their usual game in the pool, wrestling and fighting over the ball. You’re basking in the sun, leaning sideways on your elbow by the side of the pool. Frowning when you keep noticing Pope playing rough with J. He doesn't deserve that. What better way to lessen that burden on him by putting it on yourself right? (Of course that's the only reason why, not to stop Pope from feeling outshined by a new arrival, totally not). You splash water at Pope, complaining how you're so bored, stating confidently that you could score against him.

“Alright’ kid, c’mon show me what you got then yeah?” Pope relents as he enters the pool again.

You feel giddy with excitement even though you know he's just doing this to get you to shut up. 

…

Pope is barely tightening his hold on you from behind, giving you a fair chance to back out and win easily. But you don't want that. You want Pope to get aggressive with you, put his face all up in yours, make you submit to him. Why can't he just give you what you want? Why is he always so gentle with you? You know why deep down, but that doesn’t stop your emotions from getting the better of you.

You swing your arm back, decking Pope with your elbow. The blow makes him release you completely, and you swim up, up, up and finally breathe when your face exits the water. Easily scoring and celebrating when you climb out the pool, meeting J’s small grin and bumping shoulders with him. You nearly make his shot topple over.

“How about that huh?” You boast despite knowing you played dirty, but your cocky smile falls when J’s expression changes before he downs the shot.

You frown, turning back. Oh, shit. Pope’s emerged from the pool too, but his nose is dripping an obscene amount of blood. It trickles down his chin, his chest and stomach.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry Pope. You okay? Here come on, I’ll get you cleaned up”. Running over to Pope, reaching for his arms to lead him back into the house.

But his hand catches you first. 

One hand bounding both of your wrists.

“You can clean me up here just fine, kid.” Pope says so calmly, not even a little bothered about the blood gushing out and down.

‘Yeah okay, let me just get the first aid kit alright?” 

“Kid.” Pope pulls you closer by your hands and walks you backwards.

“I said you can do it here. You’ve had such a mouth on you lately baby, let’s put it to good use yeah?”

Oh, fuck he can’t just say things like that.

The back of your legs hits a lounge chair. The one beside where J’s sitting on, eyes darting between the two of you.

“I’ll get out of your wa-”

“No. You're staying there.” Pope’s tone leaves no room for arguing, guarded eyes locking onto J.

Though when Pope looks back at you, his gaze softens the tiniest bit. Unnoticeable to anyone else, but not to you.

“Pope I- I’m really sorry oka-”

“Shhh, it’s okay kid. M’not mad.” Pope brushes your back with his free hand as he maneuvers the two of you on the empty seat, you atop his lap.

“Just want you to take care of me.” Pope whispers into your ear, private from J.

You furrow your brows at his words.

Oh.

Now you understand. 

Of course Pope would see through you, he’s always seen you. The only one who had.

Pope reels back, just enough to meet your eyes with his intense gaze. An unspoken connection. One asking if you want to stop, keep your bond a sacred secret. The other responding to let them see, see who I belong to, that I belong to you. 

The red string that ties the both of you coils protectively around your shared hearts. A beat passes, and you feel the red string relaxing.

Pope lets your hands go as he leans back into the seat, letting you crawl slightly back. You brace your arms, and lean down. The taste of copper fills your senses as you slowly drag your tongue up Pope’s abs. He shudders beneath your contact, not used to a caring touch. You make your way up to his chest, noticing his erratic breathing. Finally, you make it to Pope’s face, where most of the blood is smeared all over from his initial attempt of cleaning it off. 

You meet Pope’s eyes. He’s already watching you. He’s  always watching you. 

Cradling his jaw with your hand, you scoop up the remaining scattered blood on your thumb. You bring your finger past your lips, not breaking eye contact with Pope.

He doesn't blink. 

He hasn't taken his eyes off of you, not since he caught the glimpse of you being all close to J.

In a blink, Pope smashes your lips together, hand pushing at the back of your neck, strong arm wrapping possessively around your waist. He shoves his tongue past your lips, swallowing up your sweet moans and tasting his own blood. 

It's intoxicating. He’s intoxicating. 

All you can sense is his bruising grip on you, the metallic taste of his blood, his heavy breathing.

The big splashes of water as the other brothers fight in the pool, the overlapping shouts and quarreling, the clinking of shot glasses. None of that even registers in your mind.

All you can think and feel is Pope. Him, him, only him.

When you both slowly part for air, Pope rests his forehead against yours. Still breathing heavily, his hungry eyes dart down to the red string of saliva connecting from your lips to his. 

“Hey! If you two are done being fuckin’ freaks, we could really use Pope and J back in the game!” Baz’s voice cuts through the intimate moment.

“Dude c’mon they were just getting to the good part.” Craig butts in and you have to resist rolling your eyes as you scoot away from Pope.

“Shows over. You boys have fun, but I’m gonna take my girl inside.” Pope announces much to their disappointment, you can already hear them arguing over how to settle the remaining rounds.

“That goes for you too, you can go now.” He deadpans to J, who if you didn't know any better, was tomato red all over from the hot sun.

“Oh y-yeah, of course.” J stutters out as he gets up and away from the two of you.

You barely contain your amusement as you turn back to Pope.

“You didn't have to do that, you know.” You mutter as you stand up from the edge of the seat, reaching out your hand to him.

“He kept looking and smiling at you, as if you didn't already belong to me.” Pope raises himself, slowly holding your soft hand in his. 

You grin, knowing he knows that he's dodging your actual question. No words are needed, not when the shared eye contact speaks for the two of you.

You didn't have to let me take care of you in front of an audience.

I know, but I wanted you to. Wanted them to see, see who I belonged to.

Pope hesitantly interlocks his hand with yours, making you crack a smile. Him being oh so shy as if he didn't just have his tongue down your throat a moment ago.

“Thank you.” You whisper as you lead him back into the house.

Pope doesn't respond, just keeps burning his eyes into your frame. You don’t elaborate either, choosing to walk in silence. But it's not an uncomfortable silence, no. Not when your intrinsic bond is weaved beyond words. A whole chapter said with just his eyes meeting yours. 

Thank you for letting me take care of you.

Thank you for letting me love you, in our own messed way.

The understanding flows through the red string connecting your hearts.

a/n : rly scared that i got his characterisation off so im sorry if it is :((. LISTENN ok i'm sorry, when i sent that ask I was in a much more feral mood, but since i got sick (again) I wanted some comfort and softness sprinkled in. hey don't look at me like that. tagging @callsign-fangirl bcs we go feral over shawn hatosy in chat. anyways hope you enjoy !! pretty please like, comment and reblog with your rambles if you did muaks <3 !

[thewritetofreespeech]

Can I request Dick Grayson/Nightwing falling in love with another vigilant who doesn't work with Batman?

But both Dick and the vigilant worked multiple times in the past together and know eachother identities!

Flying through the air with the greatest of ease, only now without a daring trapeze.

Dick leapt from rooftop to rooftop. A slow night for the city but still keeping an eye out, as all good crime fighters did. There was a reason ‘vigilant’ was the first part of ‘vigilante’. He landed on the flat top of a building. Able to look out over the Blüdhaven city skyline for a moment before he heard commotion in an alleyway.

Of course, Dick went to go check it out, only to find 3 men in the fight of their lives with another hero. “Hey there sexy. Need a hand?”

[Y/N] turned to look over their shoulder and gave Dick a smirk. “Why? You’re gonna actually come down here and get your hands dirty?” They teased in between punching one goons lights out.

Dick just smiled wistfully and leaned over the fire escape to watch them work.

The superhero community was small; though it seemed like everyone was trying to make a name for themselves these days. At their level it was a pretty tight knit group though and Dick & [Y/N] had known each other for years. They were close. When he was going to strike it out on his own, or hang up his wings (so to speak), [Y/N] was one of the few people he called to talk it over. After a while their relationship changed from friendly to romantic. They didn’t date. Neither one of them had the time. But they would go out once in a while and hook up. That seemed to be enough for the both of them right now.

Once the last guy was down and cuffed, Dick came down. “That seemed to go well enough. What were they going anyway?” [Y/N] walked over to a van parked next to an exterior wall. Opening the back to reveal that the criminals had cut through the van and the main wall to steal the warehouse contents out the back. “Hn. Good plan honestly.”

“It was pretty sound.” [Y/N] agreed. “Except for, you know, the sound.” It probably had to be very loud, Dick assumed.

“Want me to help take them in?”

“What? And let you get all the credit?” [Y/N] teased.

Dick held up his hands. “What?? I would never.” It felt good to laugh and joke. So much of their lives was not about any of that. “You gonna be out much later?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“I thought maybe we could have breakfast.” Dinner dates were for civilians. Vigilante heroes who were up until 4:00 in the morning met up for breakfast.

[Y/N] looked at him for a moment then asked, “get breakfast or come over for breakfast?”

Dick blushed. Running his fingers through his hair. “Come over.”

[Y/N] smiled at him. And since no one else was in the alley (or at least no one else conscious) they leaned in quick to give him a kiss. “I’ll head over after I book these guys. Assuming nothing else happens between now & later.”

“It’s a date.”

Dick then left back up the rooftops and surveyed the city further as he went back home. Luckily it was a quiet night, so hopefully [Y/N] would be coming over soon. He just hoped he had eggs.

[rottenpumpkin13]

AGSZC sexuality awakenings?

Zack: Bisexual as hell. Didn't really have an awakening—just woke up one day and decided everyone was hot until proven otherwise. His realization came during an impromptu puppy pile with the boys after a mission. Zack, smooshed between Cloud and Kunsel: "This feels right." Later kissed a girl. Felt nice. Later kissed a guy. Felt also nice.

Sephiroth: He never gave his sexuality much thought—no time, no opportunity, no experience. Romance sounded nice in theory, like something people were supposed to want. But the attraction part? Absent. So he quietly filed himself under "probably asexual," shut the drawer, and never looked back. Then it happened. 1600 hours on a Tuesday. Angeal Hewley, fresh from sparring, shirt discarded, sweat-slick and flushed from exertion, walked past and said "Hey, Seph."

Sephiroth, mid-sip from his water bottle, made direct eye contact with his abs, said "hi" with a mouthful of water. The water spilled down his own chest. He choked. Spit it out. Dropped the bottle. And ran in the opposite direction.

Angeal: Nothing special about it. Teenage him saw a cute girl and thought "Damn, I'm straight." Grown-up him saw a beautiful woman and thought "Damn, I want a wife and a backyard grill." Then one evening, he walked into his kitchen, saw Sephiroth wearing an apron and stirring pasta, and thought "Damn, I want a"

Genesis: There were these twin kids from a rival orchard in Banora, fraternal twins, identical faces. Little Genesis had a crush on both because he was a very confused but confident seven year old. He kissed the girl under his family's dumbapple tree because that's what you're "supposed" to do. Five minutes later, he kissed her brother behind a wheelbarrow because if the faces match, the feelings attach. Genesis didn't get why the adults made a fuss. He wasn't confused, he was efficient. Why pick one twin when there are two??

[alillenn]

I feel like I'm the only person who doesn't headcanon Jimmy and Curly as childhood friends. Idk why but I see them as meeting later in life as adults. Maybe it's that Curly says "I've known him for a long time," instead of something like "I've known him forever," or "I've known him my whole life," or something along those lines. I just think Curly would say something to allude to an even bigger chunk of time that they've known each other if that were the case, but maybe that's just how my brain works.

I think they'd be in their mid to late 30s with Curly being the older one by a few years when canon takes place and probably in their early 20s when they meet for the first time.

I think the way they meet is something like a mutual friend introduces them. They do share a friend group so that's not unlikely. Jimmy is standoffish and intimidating because he's never been good at meeting new people, and who was this dork that his friend was trying to introduce him to? In reality, Curly is way cooler than Jimmy and he can feel that. It makes him insecure about his place in the friend group.

Eventually, Jimmy realizes Curly isn't too bad. They even become closer friends with each other than either of them were with the mutual friend that introduced them.

Curly's surprisingly good at handling Jimmy's irrational thought process when he's having a bad day. He's a grounding force that can absorb the strays that Jimmy throws at him and guide him toward something more productive. To an extent, of course. Jimmy also knows how to hurt someone with surgical precision that even Curly has no defenses for. Jimmy knows when he goes too far, though, and has his ways of apologizing. None of which ever include the words "I'm sorry," of course, but Curly is generous enough to read between the lines. More generous than Jimmy deserves sometimes.

Jimmy may not be great with words, but when Curly can't muster the strength to get out of bed or leave the house, Jimmy has no problem hanging out on his couch or at the foot of his bed just to keep him some company. He knows what it's like to want to crawl into a hole and not come out, and sometimes another person just existing around you in silence is enough to help you snap out of it.

Both of them drink and smoke pretty heavily, and they enable each other horribly in that way. Constant shot challenges and trying to out-drink each other. Weekends become a blur from 5 pm Friday night to 6 am Monday morning. They grow out of this for the most part by their late 20s but not before both of them spend a night in the drunk tank and Jimmy loses his license once.

Curly is the first one to clean up. He wants something more out of life than his current reality. Luckily for him, he meets a recruiter for a long haul space freighter company who's hiring and offers (unpaid) on-the-job training, no college degree required! What an opportunity!

It's hard, being away from everything you've ever known for months on end, traveling to planets and space stations you never get to actually see for customers you never get to know carrying unknown cargo that must be valuable, because it's protected better than your own sleeping quarters.

There's a distance between Curly and Jimmy the first time he returns. Their friends throw a party, and Jimmy is genuinely happy to see him again, even if he is pissed that he decided to leave for some stupid job. Things are almost like they were before. Almost. Curly doesn't drink as much, and he doesn't smoke at all, not wanting to get addicted again before his next mission and all that.

It's like Jimmy's meeting him for the first time again. Sure he's still the same in the ways that matter, but... he's different. He's changed. And Jimmy hasn't.

Things never quite go back to how they were, but nothing ever does, right? They're both in their 30s now, they can't keep living like they're 25. It's a miracle neither of them ended up with a kid amongst all the other dumb shit they've done. Curly's always been a romantic, waiting until he finds "the one," whatever that means, before he ditches the condoms. And Jimmy's sperm count is too low to make unprotected sex a meaningful risk. Juvenile behavior aside, they still make the most of the time that they do get together.

It's during one of these "off seasons" that Jimmy isn't able to pretend. He got fired about a month or two ago, and his unemployment is going to dry up soon. A lightbulb goes off in Curly's head. Turnover is pretty high at Pony Express, and another crewmember just quit after this most recent mission ended.

It takes a lot of convincing and breaking through Jimmy's reinforced walls, but Curly finally persuades his best friend to join him. Living on a spaceship is better than living on the streets. For the first time in years, they'll get to see each other more than a few times every other year. Who knows, they'll be seeing each other every day, maybe they'll even get sick of each other.

Just because Curly's co-captain now doesn't mean his best friend can jump the line. Jimmy has to climb the ladder the same as everyone else did. But connections do matter in this business, and Curly has always vouched for his friend. It's only a few more years before Curly gets the captain's seat, and he has just the person in mind to fill the chair to his left.

[echo-of-the-eye]

Things in sunrise on the reaping that fucked me up:

chapter 5. just. ending of chapter 5.

mags was haymitch's mentor and now I'm even sadder about catching fire (actually this whole book makes catching fire so much worse)

lou lou. what did they do to that poor child

ampert:( poor beetee

EFFIE!! effie and haymitch met (mostly by accident) right before his games. and she's kind. still brainwashed and full of propaganda but she's still kind in a way the others aren't. this adds so much to their relationship

they reuse the trackers!? like the ones that were in dead children!?

"sure, I'll be your sister" KILL ME NOW

the continuing dehumanization of the tributes. THE FUCKING CAGE!??!?!!! haymitch being told to show of his scar from the injury that almost killed him (having to pull down his pants to do it. he's sixteen). before and after photos of naked children that are used for the grade of university students

maysilee's refusal to let herself be dehumanized

ALL THE LUCY GRAY MENTIONS!! THE SONGS!! HAYMITCH REALIZING SNOW KNEW LUCY GRAY! FINDING HER GRAVE

(also snow still being hung up on his situationship from 40 years ago and taking it out on a child ...which he does again with katniss 25 years later. like chill out dude. "she seems to loves you" bitch lucy gray did love you! but you broke her trust and probably fucking murdered her! and was a shitty toxic possesive boyfriend anyway)

seeing haymitch fight and rebel so hard against the games cause he thinks he has no chance of surviving and has nothing to lose... knowing that HE DOES and his family are going to die

and then the building DREAD as he returns to twelve wondering how it's gonna happen. when he fed the candy to lenore dove... I knew

when they started singing the old therebefore at the funeral... broke me

haymitch pushing everyone away for their safety and being so so alone (including katniss' parents! if he hadn't would he have been part of her life? could he have been like an uncle to her?)

the editing of the games so that no one knew what really happened until haymitch told them AFTER THE WAR

THE EPILOGUE!! haymitch talking about katniss and peeta CALLING THEM HIS FAMILY! saying katniss is like him but luckier. finally getting to see a world where there's no sunrise on the reaping...

all the additional context this gives the original trilogy: haymitch calling katniss sweetheart, knowing her parents and where the pin came from, mags wiress and beetee lore, (beetee has only had one plan ever and no matter how many times it doesn't work he will try again), plutarch (what is his deal, what made him want to stop the games so bad, is he actually just that sympathetic to the districts? what's his stake in all this?), knowing that people have tried to stop the games and start a rebellion many times, haymitch raising geese in the epilogue...

[ultralightpoe]

Past Sorrows - Bucky Barnes

Authors Notes: Y'all I have a HUGE folder of works that I haven't published because I feel like they suck and I just sit in this never ending battle of rewriting and rewriting and.... Okay y'all get it. -Ultralightpoe

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: None> Maybe a bad word.

Description: Inspired by Meet The Robinsons

Main Masterlist - - Marvel Masterlist

Past Sorrows - - Next part SOON

[Thank You For The Gif @sniktya ]

Enjoy! [I HATE THIS BUT IT'S GOTTA ESCAPE MY DRAFTS Y'ALL]

“I've about had it with this same conversation over and over young man.” 

The words probably would have held a better punch if James Buchanan Barnes hadn’t heard them nearly every week since the school year had begun, they probably woulda stung a bit more if he had actually liked the person that was currently speaking those recurring words. But truth be told he was tired, and bored, of sitting in the wooden chair across from the principal of his school. He was tired of getting crammed into detention nearly everyday in punishment. 

Bucky Barnes was tired. 

It wasn’t even his fault, none of this was, not that any adult around him actually seemed to give a damn about his predicament. 

It had been a year since his father died, a year since his mother had forced herself to go back to work so that her and her children could afford food and clothes. A year since Bucky had picked up morning duty for his sisters in order for his Mother to make it to the job that fed them on time. The only problem was….. well his sisters ran on their own time. They acted as if the clock on the wall was non-existent when it came to their mornings. 

Rebecca loved to wait until the last minute for her homework, somehow managing to just get it done by the time he drags her to the door. And June Bug could never make up her mind on what to wear, anything he offered was taken as an insult and any help not given was an abandonment in her eyes. The oatmeal he made was always just a little burnt and the arguing was always just a little bitter. 

But it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. They were family and these were his baby sisters. They needed him, his man needed him. And their needs trump all. 

The school? They did not agree with this argument. 

Matter of fact they seemed to think they were the most important thing in this damned universe. 

“I already told ya’,” he snaps, trying not to show too much attitude, choosing to grip the sides of his chair instead. “My ma’s job puts us on a late start.” 

“James.” Principal Figs sighs, shaking his head in the slow condescending way that sets a flush of anger through Bucky’s skin. “I’ve tried talking to you about better options. The bus. A shared ride. Calling your mother about your attendance. We need to figure out, you cannot keep missing half your English class. You hear me boy?” 

Loud. And. Clear. 

But it’s not like Bucky could argue, what was he supposed to say that would ease this situation? The truth? 

“I can not come in early cause my Ma’ leaves 2 hours earlier than we wake up and my sisters get a later start in school.” Next thing you know the adults at the school begin to get suspicious and look into the family. Or as Garrett Figs liked to explain it, they want to see if your parents are fit to keep you. 

And Bucky refused for there to be pressure on his Ma, refused for anyone to look in at the picture they didn’t understand and judge their family. He refused the risk of someone tearing them apart, putting his sisters in one of those overcrowded foster homes that ran with diseases. Serving the kids broth soup every night just to make ends meet. 

It’s not like their family had done much better, no one had anything in this depression, but they had family and he would be damned if that was taken from him. 

“I’ll look into it.” He amended, his voice straining at the lie as his eyes seemed to burn while he forced himself to make eye contact, wanting nothing more than to look for the exit. Wanting nothing more than to just be free of this damn office. “After losing Pa we just have struggled to find a schedule that works. I’ll see if I can share Stevie’s ride. I promise.”

And with that simple lie he was released from this damn office. His shoes hitting the wooden floors beneath him with sharp thuds as he snatched up his school books, keeping them on his hip to maintain an unbothered strut as the bells above rang out sharply and bodies filled the hallways with a speed of desperation. 

It was always really easy to spot Steve Rogers in a crowd, like a flock of birds gathered around the chick. People tended to split in order to avoid damaging the smaller body. 

“Stevie!” He called out, sending an awkward half smile to Tracey Potts, whose cheeks were tinged with red as she tried to step up to Bucky, her plaid blue skirt swishing a bit. Something about Tracey Potts? She always looked her best, from the perfectly bouncy hair that reached her shoulders always paired with a perfectly tied bow. 

She was a real pretty dame. Only problem? Her older brother was a real scary guy. 

“I’m in just a bit of a rush Doll-” He chuckles lightly, swerving a bit to avoid the hand that reaches for him right as Steve snatches his shoulder in what Bucky was sure was meant to be an annoyed grip. 

“Buck. You missed half of class.” His pal scolds, moving to the side for him to follow and leave Potts behind while they walk to the exit. “Again.”

“It was important. Principal Figs was not to keen on me missing class this morning.” 

“So in being mad about you missing class he pulled you out of a class you actually need to pay attention to?” Steve raises an eyebrow, shaking his head. “You wanna borrow my notes?” “This is why we were put together pal.” Bucky smiles, stopping his pace to allow Steve to pull the notes. “As my old man always says, Keep Moving Forward.” 

It isn’t until Steve gives him a look of devastation that he realizes his slip up, when his friends blue eyes cloud with a sad sort of gaze and his eyebrows pinch together as his mouth twitches into a frown. 

“Said…..” His voice is hoarse, which he quickly clears before standing a little straighter and swiping a hand over his gelled hair. “My old man always said.”

“Here you go, Buck.” Steve hands off the journal, buckling the book strap to keep everything together and placing his pencil above his ear. 

“Means a lot, Pal.” Bucky smiles, nodding. “I’ll try not to let Junie Bug stain these ones.”

He had felt so guilty about the last packet of notes Steve let him borrow, after they had been put through the ringer by Junie and the tomato juice left in front of her. After an overdramatic bit of yelling and fighting with his ma, and a nice slamming of his bedroom door he was left to try and fix the notes only to make em worse. He had felt guilty for losing his temper on Junie, for leaving the tomato sauce on the table and for yelling at his ma. He felt guilty about Steve’s notes and being late for school and…. 

Bucky was just so tired. 

“You know, I think the world of Junie and her art.” Steve laughs before he is roughly shoved, his chin meeting Bucky’s shoulder as they both do an awkward shuffle to catch themselves. Steve was of course the better person, mumbling out an apology while Bucky took the lead and stepped in front of his friend. 

“Watch where you’re going!” 

The group pays him no mind, charging ahead while Steve merely shakes his head. “You feelin alright Buck? You’ve been…. I’m just worried about ya pal.”

That was the question, wasn’t it? Was he okay?

“Do…. Stevie, you ever feel like….” The words die out, his throat tightening as he tries to form the question on his tongue. Maybe he is worried that the second the words come out then the entire world might fall apart around him? Maybe he just isn’t quite ready to admit it yet. “Do you ever feel like there is nothing worth fighting for? Just a never ending life of struggling to make ends meet with nothing to really show for it? Stuck.”

Steve had a habit of seeing too much and seeing nothing at all. He could take a look at you and see all your insecurities and everything you could be. And in the same hand he could also be staring down the barrel of a gun and not see doom in it. He was a fighter. 

And Bucky didn’t think he was. 

Because….. Bucky was just so damn tired. 

His friend struggles for a response, but the shame and dread had already claimed Bucky’s movements. “Nevermind pal. I just think I’m in desperate need for a nap.”

It’s rough to force a laugh out, slightly pathetic how much energy it takes, and yet when he pulls his hand up to check his watch, shock and panic is all he finds himself swimming in. “Is it really 3:30. Damn it all-”

He gives Steve one last smile before sprinting off, taking the streets of brooklyn as fast as he could to get to his sisters school. 

He would never make it on time, always late. Late to school, late to work, late to pick up his sisters. It seemed he’d never have enough time these days. 

All he could do was run, and hope Junie Bug didn’t get too impatient by the time he arrived. 

- 

Junie Bug HAD gotten a little impatient waiting for Bucky. He managed to make it at only 5 minutes late, but she was already glaring when he came running up, completely out of breath and red in the face. 

“Sorry Junie. Sorry Becca.” He panted out, hands on his knees. The apologies had fallen on empty ears, both sisters walking ahead to ignore him, just as they did the entire walk home. They ignored him while walking up the stairs to the apartment and they ignored him when they rushed to their shared bedroom and slammed the door in his face. 

It stung, he hated being outcasted by his best girls, and even though he hated when they forced him to play dolls he could hear them in their room giggling over it all and suddenly that’s all he wanted to do. 

But at the moment he would use their anger to complete some work, the best idea he could. So, with them giggling down the hall, he took to mopping the kitchen floor. Dusting the living room, making sure his room was picked up before doing his homework at the table. But the entire time he copied Steve’s notes all he could think of was just how…. Lost he was. 

He couldn’t seem to win anything. They couldn’t afford anything, he was less brother and more a half assed parent figure to his sisters, no dames in his future and Stevie’s heart risked his health. It felt like there was just this black cloud that had clung to his shoulders and was pushing him down. 

“Oh come on Buck.” He grumbles to himself, shaking his head and slapping at his cheek a bit. “Snap out of it.”

He was just being dramatic, that’s all. A bad day in a bad week. Once he got some rest it would all be better and ma would be home soon. 

Keep moving forward. 

The sharp trill of the phone went off, and he could hear his sisters door open down the hall, and once he picked up the handle of the phone and placed it to his ear he already knew just what he would hear. 

“Buck. Baby.” His mother greets, sounding so tired even through the phone. “I gotta stay late. You think you can feed the girls and get them to bed?”

A moment of silence passes as he fights off the disappointment, closing his eyes and leaning his head on the wall of the apartment. “No problem ma.”

The words rang empty, missing the usual tone of life he tended to carry. “I’m so sorry bubs. This is the last time, I swear it.”

She had said that every day this week, but he couldn’t blame her. They were all struggling, right?

“It’s no problem, ma.” He tries to sound happier again. “Just…. Keep moving forward.”

“Thank you Bubs.” She sighs, making a kissing sound before hanging up and leaving him to turn to his sisters, both watching them from their doorway. 

“Pasta?”

He would have laughed at the way they groaned simultaneously if he wasn’t so sick to his stomach. 

- 

“I just need you to be quiet.” Someone seethes, the sound waking Bucky up from a deep sleep, forcing him to blink quickly as he struggles to push the fog from his brain. Reaching a hand up to rub at his eyes, while he tries to pick up on what exactly is wrong. 

Nothing is out of place in his room, he can see everything by the light of the streetlamp outside the window, and the only thing out of normal was that he almost always shut the blinds before he hit the bed. But he had barely managed to make it to his room before he passed out sprawled across the sheets. Drool stained his pillow and he was still in his school clothes. 

But something was off. Really really off. 

“Shhhh!” The voice rang out again, and he must have woken up to the sound of Becca and June sneaking in for snacks past their bedtime, trying not to wake up Ma. Nothing but little trouble makes, and with a shake of his head she struggles to lift himself out of the bed, heading to catch them in their act before he stops short once more. “You’re gonna wake them. Can you stop?”

There was in fact a problem after all, because that was a male voice and Bucky only lived with females. Someone was in his home. 

The first thing he could think of was to grab the bat that sat in his closet, keeping a firm grip on it as he reached for the door handle, only to see that it was already twisting on its own. With his heart racing he managed to stumble back, nearly cursing himself out for the sound as the handle paused and he forced himself to hold his breath, shaking as he stared at it so hard his eyes began to water. 

A pause, the handle stuck in it’s half twisted motion, and all Bucky could do was worry about his sisters. Had his Ma made it home? What if something happened to her? What if these guys already stopped in his sisters rooms? What if what if what if…..

But the moment of anxiety and stillness passed, and whoever was on the otherside must have deemed him silent enough to continue. Turning the handle and pushing the door open slowly as if afraid it might creak. Bucky knew it would creak once it passed the 8th floor board past where his rug ended, and he knew if he stayed behind the door he would be able to catch whoever it was by surprise. 

And within moments the intruder took a step into his room, casting a look in the direction of the bed before going still once he saw that it was empty, only there was no time for reaction before Bucky was upon him. He swung the bat, enjoying the sound of the thud and the cry of pain that came from the intruder as they stepped back holding their side and managing to just barely dodge the second swing. By the third Bucky was beginning to lose balance, and the intruder had managed to catch theirs, snatching the bat and holding it tight and twisting until Bucky had tripped over his own rug and hit the ground. 

“Oh, I’m in so much trouble.” The voice rang out, and Bucky couldn’t fight off the anger anymore. 

“Hell yeah you are!” He yells, kicking at the figure's leg to trip them before launching to sprawl over them and try and get the advantage. It was a struggle, once Bucky got a hit in so did the intruder. “Who the hell are you-”

A fist comes up to meet his face, instant pain spreading through as Bucky throws his weight back and tastes the iron. 

“You’re in danger- You have to listen to me here!”

“You came into the wrong house pal-” He spits out some of the blood, launching back into the figure with all his weight until they hit the bookshelf on the wall, managing to break it all. 

“Damn da- dude.” The figure coughs, kicking him back and pulling out something Bucky didn’t recognize. “I don’t want to have to do this.”

“Oh buck up.” And he swings his fist, hitting them square on before rushing to grab his bat once more. 

“It’s flesh….. Your hand is flesh….”

An odd thing to say, and Bucky would have had a great comeback if he wasn’t thrown back by a crazy explosion, knocking him into his bedroom wall and effectively hitting his head. And he must have hit it hard…. Because there was a green creature staring down at him with a terrifying smile. Sharp teeth and drool hanging down from his jaw as his taloned hands reach to grab something at his hip. Pulling out a jagged glowing blade. 

“Doom denies this line.” 

“WATCH OUT!” And just as the blade was pushed down and about to pierce into Bucky’s chest the figure managed to stop it, hand shooting out until blood was dripping down onto Bucky’s face and a cry of pain shot out in the dark of the room. But another blast of light and it all went wrong. 

- 

“You’re in so much trouble when they find out.” A voice bites out as Bucky is once again forced awake, this time nearly being blinded by a light as he covers his eyes with a hand. “Oh great. He’s awake.”

“I can see that Franklin. Thank you.” The voice from earlier quips, and Bucky manages to adjust to the light in time to see a young boy around his age slap the shoulder of the one next to him. “Okay, don’t panic.”

Panic. 

“Where the hell am I?!” Bucky cries out, jumping up from where he had been laid out and pushing to run for an exit, only to realize that there were no exits. He was fully trapped in…. What the hell was this place? 

“Okay da-dude. Bucky, James, sir.” The figure from earlier rushes out, moving to step in front of Bucky, which just makes him step back and trip over a chair in order to avoid him. His back hits the floor and before he knows it a black haired boy is staring down at him. 

“I don’t know about you but he doesn’t seem to be enjoying this.”

“Franklin, back off.”

“Oh come on.” The kid huffs, reaching a hand out and extending it down. “Franklin Richards. And I’m assuming you are Bucky Barnes.”

“Assuming?”

“More than that. We were sent out to… This is my companion Beck Ba-”

“Barton! Beck Barton.”

“He thinks he’s cool.”

“Kiss my ass Franklin.”

“Ohhhhh I’m telling your dad you just cussed.”

“Yeah and I’ll tell your mom you stole the ship!”

“Then I’ll tell your mom you hacked into a Latverian tech-”

“And then I’ll tell her you broke the memory scanner.”

“YOU BROKE THE MEMORY SCANNER!”

“NO YOU DID!”

“LIAR! I WENT TO USE IT AND YOU SLAPPED IT OUT OF MY HAND!” Franklin yells, his hands moving with the yell. “I told you Beck, he needs his memory wiped or going back and saving him won’t matter.”

“He… he just almost died.” 

“And you think your mom and dad are going to be happy about you nearly getting gutted over this.” 

“What do you propose now? We don’t have your dads tech and it’s not like we can bring him back to…..”

“We have to, we can’t leave back in his time without wiping what happe-”

“Can someone tell me…” Bucky tries to intervene. 

“Not now.” Franklin snaps while Beck merely turns to him slowly, a guilty look on his face. It’s then that Bucky sees his left arm is bandaged and the shirt he currently wore, far too tight and must be an undershirt for a button up, was covered in blood. 

“Well…. We are from another time…..” He begins, blinking slowly. “A futuristic time. And we got… intel- which means intelligence-”

“I know what it means.”

“On a man we call Dr. Doom sending out some agents- which are people that work under him-”

“I gathered that, thank you.”

“Anyways, he sent them out to ruin the timeline of our earth. You were one of the targets.”

“Why was I a target? What do you mean our earth?”

“He was aiming to split the timeline before the war hit.” 

“Let me go home. My ma…. My sisters and stevie.” Bucky pleads, trying to stand up, slapping Franklin's still outstretched hand away and trying to find an exit again. But it was terrifying, there were screens lighting up just about every surface. Cushions that not even the president could afford on the chairs, and the finest metal holding it all together. And the one opening there was held…. Space beyond it. Nothing but space. 

And it took all of two seconds for Bucky to get sick, leaning over to puke onto the floor as both boys stepped back. 

“Okay let’s try this again.” Franklin groaned. “Here is the thing, you were targeted by Doom. He wanted to break a timeline, you don’t need to know why. All you need to know is that Beck and I saved you and our time machine is…. A bit on the fritz so we have to wait before we can travel home to get you all fixed up and this can be right as rain. You understand?”

“What’s home?” 

“Home is…. 90 years…. Give or take.”

“2029.” Beck answers, shaking his head. 

“I’m sorry?” Bucky was going to be sick again, he just knew it. “It’s 1938.”

“Oh….. I’m in so much trouble.” Beck sighs, closing his eyes before opening them to glare. And it’s an odd thought that Bucky gets when he stares at the boy in front of him, who should be around his age, that he was just a child. Like his little sisters. He could see the fear and the guilt eating away at every expression. Like he knew him already. 

“Alright Beck Barton….. What do you need from me?”

- 

“I just need you to know that when our parents kill us that I am gonna blame you the entire time.” Franklin seethes as he turns to look over his shoulder to where Bucky Barnes was currently staring out the window in pure shock. “Your dad more so. Oh your dad is going to be so pissed.”

“The plan is neither of our parents finds out.” Beck groans. “They can not see him, you understand?” 

“Got it. Operation keep Bucky Barnes hidden from the Barnes Family is underway.” 

-

[Oh I am already regretting this but like I said it needed to be free from the drafts. My draft folder is way too packed of stuff I keep rewriting. Someone save me pls. -Ultralightpoe]

[hellsquills]

Unknown Scars

A small drabble about the Stan twins at sea and hidden memories. No trigger warnings for this one, other than the mention of scars. There'll probably be a second part too. Thank you so much to @babyblankyerror for encouraging me to post this <3 Enjoy!

⪻ ⪻ ⪻ ⨳ ⪼ ⪼ ⪼

There’re a few scars that Stanley doesn't remember getting after the memory wipe.

It makes sense, of course, but it is a reminder of the parts of his life that he's missing. Part of him tries to convince himself that it's better this way; the last one he remembered was the one at the base of his left foot, and boy that memory sucked. He could've gone the rest of his days without ever feeling that glass again.

However, these remain a mystery. Ford asked him about them as soon as he saw them, worried about their size. Stanley simply made a joke, as he usually did whenever he found it difficult to talk about something. Seeing Ford's expression, Stan shrugged and admitted that he had no clue.

Obviously, that didn't stop his hypochondriac twin from writing down every single detail about them. Stan wasn't happy about it, but obliged, probably because he knew Stanford would otherwise interrogate him relentlessly. In his new journal, next to their encounters in the last months at sea and some sticky notes courtesy of Stan, there was a page dedicated to their injuries, a way to keep track of the damage the creatures (or the stove, in Ford's case) had dealt them. The new text read:

March 14th, 2013

I have discovered some new scars on Stanley's body, although they are not the product of any recent altercation. He has not regained that memory yet, which is most definitely worrying: his worst ones are those that take longer to come back, as I have been noticing lately. If I had to guess, I would assume they belong to his decade away from home; this part of his mind is still locked away somewhere in his mindscape, and I’m fairly certain that it is more than just the effects of the memory gun.

They are located on both sides of his torso: two sets of semi-even parallel lines over his ribs. On each set, the upper scar is around six inches below the armpit, and the remaining two are three inches apart from each other. What concerns me about these scars in particular is their size: they are about eight inches long, horizontal, not straight but parallel between them. Their even distribution leads me to believe that each set was done at the same time, probably with a sharp object with three blades, like a trident of some sort. I have yet to figure out what could’ve caused such strange markings. Stanley said he shouldn’t have gotten involved with Wolverine during his 20s, quote “he didn’t take it well when I told him we should break up”. As stupid as the joke might’ve been, it made me think about the possibility of some animal-like creature being the culprit of the scars. However, as I said before, it is highly unlikely that Stanley encountered supernatural creatures before arriving in Gravity Falls, whether he remembers it or not. Therefore, I believe it is more plausible that whatever happened occurred before we reunited the first time.

The “animal” theory would make sense, if it weren’t for the way the scars look. They are nothing like some of the others I’ve previously seen on him. The first one that comes to mind whose size resembles these new ones is the one above his left kidney– or rather, where his left kidney used to be. It is a long and poorly healed line that, even 30 years later, still looks like it was heavily infected, forcefully done and clumsily stitched back together, probably several times. These new, unknown scars are completely different: they're roughly the same color as the rest of his skin, which usually means it wasn’t a deep cut, but they have a slight relief, which means that it was. They don’t have any noticeable stitch signs, even though cuts this big would almost definitely need them, and judging by some other scars on his body, I doubt he ever managed to get suture thread and/or staples. Although wobbly, they look neatly done, which makes me skeptical to believe it was some vicious animal.

The nature of these scars remains a mystery for the time being. Even though I would like to ask him more questions until we figure it out, I don’t want to force him to remember something that his brain is obviously trying to lock away. I will keep my inquiries at bay. In the meantime, I will do some research to at least figure out what the weapon was.

⪻ ⪻ ⪻ ⨳ ⪼ ⪼ ⪼

It's a rough night for the Pines twins. Ford's latest research had led them further from land that they had expected, and it was too late to turn back. Now they are right in the middle of a storm, a pretty wild one at that.

Both men are doing their best to keep their ship afloat. Even though the boat is resilient, the waves are slamming hard against its side and crashing onto the deck, making it almost impossible to stand straight.

"There's no reason for a storm of this size to have formed in such a short time! There must be some sort of climate irregularities of supernatural ilk, otherwise–”

"Sixer, does it look like the time right now?!" Stan's voice roars over the storm, cutting his brother's train of thought. He cannot afford to have Ford distracted. "Go downstairs and get the life jackets, now!"

"Are you insane? I cannot leave you here by yourself, the boom is too heavy!"

"Well you better hurry the fuck up, then!"

"Stanley, you can't handle this on your own, if a bigger wave hits it'll—"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET THE LIFE JACKETS!" Stan's voice is now impossibly louder, and desperate. "If I let go, the boat will overturn. If you stay, we'll both die out here. Get the damn jackets before the big wave hits, now!"

Stanford is quick to puff his cheeks in annoyance, but as stubborn as he is, he's not an idiot. He runs to the cabin, rushing downstairs to get the only thing that might keep them alive in case the sea decides to eat their boat for dinner. As he reaches their bedroom, lightning crosses the sky outside their window, and he makes out the shape of the life jackets, their color heightened by the sudden light. He quickly puts on his own, damp hands shaking with cold, and makes his way out of the room.

He barely has time to process where he is when the boat shakes, almost as if it had collided with another at an intersection. The crash is so brutal that it sends him almost flying against the opposite wall, falling to the ground unceremoniously. Thankfully, the cabin has a good few layers to protect the ship from impacts like this, so he isn't too worried about the hull.

The exterior will be fine. What won't be is whatever is on it.

Ford's vision goes tunnel in an instant. That was the Big Wave, and it was hard enough to make him lose his usually impeccable balance. But Stan isn't as agile, and he's outside, on his own, and without a life jacket.

He's out of the cabin in a matter of seconds, although in his mind it might as well have been hours. His eyes scan the deck, finding only a pool of water covering it and some broken boxes they didn't manage to put away in time, as well as Stan's fishing chair stuck in a corner.

STANLEY. WHERE. SEARCH. NOW

His mind, usually as eloquent as his speech, is now screaming the words he can’t manage to get past his throat. Another bolt lights up the night, and Ford can clearly see everything for a few moments.

Everything and nothing. His brother is not on the deck.

STANLEY. WHERE. WHERE

Stanley was holding the rope when he left, making sure the sail wouldn’t turn around and disrupt the ship’s balance— or worse, break the mast with its weight. Ford’s eyes follow the mast, then the boom, then the rope Stan was gripping. He stares at the spot he was at, noticing that the rope is now securely tied around a cleat. No trace of his brother.

WHERE. STANLEY

Ford’s ears are starting to ring from how hard his jaw is clenched. He walks around the deck, checking every single corner behind the cabin, the only place that was out of his view when he exited. Stan is nowhere to be seen.

NOWHERE. WHERE. NO

With his right hand still firmly gripping his twin’s jacket, Ford makes his way to the gunwale and looks around the water. The boat isn’t shaking as violently as before now that the sail is tied in place, but the waves haven’t stopped hitting the hull the whole time. His eyes stare at the infinite mass of water in front of him, which now resembles more a deadly trap than the freeing space they both have loved since childhood.

He wants to shout his brother’s name, but the screaming words in his mind can’t seem to make their way to his vocal cords. Instead, all he manages to emit is a sort of roar that emerges from his guts. It isn’t entirely animalistic, but it definitely isn’t human either. His vision is getting blurry, and he quickly wipes his eyes. There’s no hint of Stan anywhere, the waves making it impossible to discern any shapes on the surface.

GIVE HIM BACK

The smallest voice at the back of his head, the only remnant of his non-wild persona, keeps him from jumping overboard and swimming until he finds Stan. It would be useless; the waves don’t appear to be slowing down any further, and the water would be too turbid to see anything regardless. Besides, even though they’re not far from the equator and it’s spring, the water might still be cold enough to provoke hypothermia if exposed to it for too long. The risk is too high.

A bright red spot appears on top of the next wave. Stanley’s beanie.

Ford’s inside voice stays complicitly quiet as the man jumps overboard.

To be continued...

[sergeifyodorov]

It really is crazy how the p*nthers have literally made being a dirty team their brand and somehow the league gives them more leeway… Sam Bennett has given guys head injuries 3 consecutive years in the playoffs. Every round one of their players tries to and often successfully injures an important opposing player. It’s their literal strategy. I’m a biased oilers fan and the head injuries are obviously worse but I will always think about Ekblad choking Bouchard while he looked like he couldn’t breathe and everyone laughing about it like it was just a normal hockey play. Sorry, rant over. (May Sam Bennett be replaced by Macklin Celebrini on the Olympic team)

no you're entirely and completely correct like part of their entire game plan is to injure other guys. and they get away with it! it's not even your oilers bias or my leafs bias they also injured Marchand back when he was still a Bruin, and Hagel literally three games ago. Intentionally. Obviously intentionally. Direct to the head, no call, half-assed suspension later to pretend DOPS actually gives a shit. Knies in 2023. Anyone they can get clean and right away in front of them. Ekblad and Bennett are probably the worst offenders, but Tkachuk has no qualms doing it (he just went for Morgan Rielly's knee and tried to go for Mitch THIS GAME) and the rest follow along because if their leaders are safe, they are too. Don't forget, though, Barkov is so underrated!

[vaguely-concerned]

kill me

(*wobbly tearstained voice* this is father & son richard plantagenet in henry vi part 3 1983 dir jane howell btw. which is. extremely good)

[ask-my-memoir]

Kaine: "You shouldn't just walk up on someone like that...."

The stranger has identified himself as "Kaine."

Kaine's character page may now be accessed!

[ @ecoxlar-maybe / @ask-amaryllis-academy ]

[1/2]

[littlewigglers]

Do you plan on getting any non millipede friends

I do! I’d love to get some more isopods and raise some beetles from larva again. I’d also LOVE to get back into fish keeping my faves are bettas, shrimps, corydoras and kuhli loaches! Maybe a snake or gecko further down the line? But those are what I know the least about and would be most hesitant to get as I want any creatures I get to have the best care I can give them.

I’d say the only creatures on my never list are spiders, roaches, centipede, anything else that moves overly fast or has a bad bite/is venomous/poisonous. Probably turtles too just due to their life spans.

But millipedes and isopods are what I’m able to keep right now as I’d have to get some new tanks for anything else, as well as all the research I’d need to do to be comfortable keeping them.

Oh also I do have two cats I just don’t post about them here, and I plan to possibly get a third next year but we’ll see :3