#they really are giving that man everything he asks for

[munsonsmixtapes]

Brooding and quiet Simon with a talkative girlfriend who he just loves to listen to ramble about her favorite things and sometimes she tries to apologize for talking too much and he reassures her that he loves it 🥹🥹

As a girl who loves to yap and thinks that no one wants to hear what I have to say, this really spoke to me.

You and Simon are sitting at the kitchen table in your shared apartment. He’s staring at you quietly as you yap away about your day. You talk so much more than he does but he loves. He loves hearing you talk, no matter what it’s about. Your voice is a comfort for him and when he gets home from a long day, he likes to lay his head in your lap as you scratch at his head, talking about everything and nothing while he falls asleep in your lap. That’s a perfect night in his eyes.

You’re convinced that he’s bored with you because he looks like he’s staring into space, almost like he’s tired. Sometimes you get afraid that he’s not interested in what you have to say because he’s a man of such few words.

“Sorry, am I boring you? I’m talking too much, aren’t I? I’ll shut up now.” You look down at the table in a dejected manner and Simon feels like you might as well have ripped his head out.

“Darling, of course you’re not boring me,” he says, taking your hand in his, giving you a warm smile even though you won’t meet his eyes. He stands and rounds the table, offering you hands. You take them and he helps you to your feet. “I’m so sorry if I made you feel that way. I love hearing you talk, coming home to you and letting you tell me about your day is my favorite thing. You can talk about anything you want for however long and I will be listening to every word.”

He presses a kiss to your lips then pulls you into his arms, his hands rubbing up and down your back as he tells you how much he loves you over and over and you feel so safe here, feeling so silly for ever thinking that he wasn’t paying attention or didn’t care about what you had to say.

“Did I ever tell you about the 9/11 to the downfall of Ellen Degeneres pipeline?” You ask as you pull away and Simon can help but let out a loud laugh at that, truly taken aback by the absurdity of what you just said.

“I don’t think you have, but I’d love to hear about it,” he smiles and presses another kiss to your lips before sitting in your chair and pulling you down into his lap as you tell him all about it.

[thewritingfairy]

↪ 10. Duke is done

PREV PART trigger warnings: medical + physical + emotional neglect, secrets are revealed, (Name is barely in this chapter), talks about past medical fraud, Duke is so done with the batfamily (he cusses them out), guilt, swearing main m.list           series m.list

Bruce couldn’t believe it, the documents on his desks broke his heart, his baby almost died when they were a toddler and now they’re in unimaginable pain. Bearing it all by themselves, never letting anyone at home see. Oh, how scary it must be for you, all alone at those hospital visits, all alone for those treatments and researches. (Your friends don’t count, they’re also children, and their families? HAH, how could they’ve supported you like he could have?)

“My poor baby,” he whispers as he puts the last paper down. “I should have been there…”

His face in his hands as he tries to imagine the pain you felt, the anxiety that must have ran through your veins. And for a moment he’s glad that Duke stood by your side, that your friends stood by your side, even if he knows he could have done better. That he could have wiped away your tears and assured you everything was going to be alright. Perhaps he still could, just too bad you won’t let him.

Bruce knows that he cannot overturn this ‘medical emancipation’ without sending you to jail for medical fraud, so he’ll just gain access to your other files (that the hospitals didn’t turn over after a generous donation) as Batman. Sometimes being the world greatest detective is really handy, but sure doesn’t help with his guilt.

Because how can he be the greatest detective when he didn’t even realise that you went by your mama’s maiden name? That he didn’t even realise that Duke was only joining them for you, that he didn’t even realise that you were walking on the edge of death everyday? Using the trust fund account your mama left for you to pay for all your hospital trips and bills, it was nearly empty and Bruce wonders what you would’ve done if it ran empty? But don’t worry, papa will take care of it. You don’t need to worry about money as long as he’s around.

Don’t you know? He has a trust fund for all his children, sure he made yours when he went to set up Duke’s, but you’ll forgive him right?

You were always the forgiving kind, at least that’s what Alfred said. But that changed, and now they perhaps know why.

Chronic illness can change a person, don’t you know? Those who suffer can lose their innocence, becoming jaded to the point those around them can barely recognise them.

(But your friends know who you are, they know how your smile never truly changed. Sure your eyes became deader, you became more on guard, but you still held that innocence you always had. That careful joy that the world could change for the better, only you’ve become realistic now, and that’s by no means a crime.)

Bruce wonders if he finally gives you the care you need, if you’ll return to sweet yet sharp child he tried to bond with (what his oldest children dubbed) as Brucie. He wonders how his children will react once he gives them the summary of all he read, he wonders how they’ll act towards Duke, he wonders if Duke would be willing to give them any information that could help them.

He would rather die, he would rather step on their hearts and souls as they’ve done to you.

As Bruce continues to be lost in his thoughts Damian rushes into his office without knocking, how odd. “Father,” he says, his tone stressed and his posture tense. It brings Bruce back to reality in a second. “(name) said they were going to Maria’s house but the tracker I planted shows that they are at Cobblepot’s new restaurant!”

“I’m sorry you did what?” Bruce asks, his fist clenching as he tries to keep his breath steady. He knows his son meant well, but truly, this isn’t how they are going to win your trust back. But then it hits him, his child is working for Penguin. A man that shows no remorse, a man that only chooses for himself and a man that knows how to manipulate. A man that runs a whole criminal enterprise but is still basically untouchable. “Damian, don’t do anything with that information for now.”

Damian scoffs, but before he could say anything Bruce’s stare shut him up. “Yes father,” he grumbles. “but if their life is in danger I will intervene.”

“After I’ve debriefed all of you about the medical files I’ll send Nightwing over,” Bruce promises, a promise that relaxes his son. Something he barely does, but the relief on Damian’s face keeps him from saying more on the situation. “gather the others and Duke, it’s time to make a plan of action.”

Damian nods and when he leaves the office his father’s expression enters his brain. He had only seen that expression once before, when he almost killed Tim and you. He remembers the fear in his eyes, but also the raw desperation in yours.

It still surprises him to this day that the family never tried to involve you with their work, you clearly have the instincts for it. Perhaps even more then them.

Thoughts run through his head as he sends a text to everyone to meet in the bat-cave, calling Duke to make sure he’ll arrive. Stating it’s an emergency about (name), it basically sent him running out of the door, Damian didn’t feel guilty for exaggerating. Not when he’s hiding your secrets for you.

Just too bad that his little stunt will make Duke even more closed off. “Damian, you said this was a fucking emergency!” he shouts when he finally arrives, noticing (Name)’s medical files on the screens. “You guys reading through (Nickname)’s medical files is just creepy and weird.”

Jason rolls his eyes and Barbara hums in agreement but she does defend their actions. “It’s clear they cannot take care of themselves,” she says, turning her wheelchair around. “clearly this is the wrong way for us to gain information, but it’s our only way.”

Duke laughs, not in joy, but in amusement. “Wow, you bats truly are pathetic.”

“And yet you are joining us,” Damian hisses, walking up to him. Trying to intimidate him. “doesn’t that make you just as pathetic?”

“Awh, how cute,” Duke mocks him, kneeling until he reaches Damian’s eye level. “you should consider yourself lucky that I am joining you for (Name)’s benefit and that I didn’t decide to play the avenger on their behalf.” His words hold weight to them, he could have easily used (name)’s connection to them to destroy them. But Duke’s decided the kinder route, and they suppose they can thank (name) for that. “I am better than you fucks, for one simple reason. I still stand by my morals, you all forgot yours when it came to (Name).”

“So, you’ll take care of them?” Dick asks, pulling Damian to his side as he gets in Duke’s face. “You, an ignorant kid, who knows nothing about how difficult life will be for them?”

“Oh, and you will because Oracle is in a wheelchair?” Duke asks, stepping closer to Dick. He isn’t afraid of the first Robin. He doesn’t even need his powers to put this dick in his place. “You know nothing. You didn’t hear them scream as doctors put needles in them.” Bruce’s breath becomes irregular as Duke clearly relives some moment that scared him. “You weren’t there when they begged me to kill them, you were never there!”

He closes his eyes as tears falls down his face, and Dick takes a step back. Clearly shocked, but at least they’re getting information. At least, Bruce will be able to use Duke’s rant when they get the final records. “You should all be ashamed of yourself,” Duke says, his eyes making his contempt clear. “acting like any of you deserve information on (Name)’s life. How pathetic can you be?”

Or not, seems like Duke is great at controlling himself unfortunately. “If I find out any of you try to obtain more medical records I will personally enlighten (name) on how the hospital betrayed their trust for a simply donation.” he threatens, crossing his arms over his chest. “I am sure none of you want them to know, just like you keep this little cave a secret from them.”

This time Jason gets in Duke’s face, pit rage clearly trying to make an appearance. Something that just made him smirk. “Oh Jason,” he coos condescendingly, circling him knowing that he can put him on the ground in seconds if needed. “are you going to beat me like you beaten (Name)?” He fake swoons, clearly trying to piss Jason off more. “Try me bitch.”

Jason breaths, trying to calm himself. But Duke wasn’t it making easy, and Cassandra knows it. So she decides to step in by dropping a bomb; “I knew (Name) was in pain but I assumed it were just small injuries as I don’t see them often.” Well that got Duke’s and Jason’s attention. Fuck that got everyone’s attention.

“At least you have the common sense to look ashamed,” Duke comments with an empty laugh, he had stopped circling Jason. Standing still near the bat computer trying to dissect everything he’s seeing. He knew your family’s shit, but he didn’t expect them to be this shitty. “Jesus, I knew your guys don’t give a fuck about (Name), but still. Damn that’s just cruel, didn’t you realise after the first few times it was something permanent?!”

Cassandra tenses as she looks at her shoes. Shutting her eyes, as she tries to think about what she could’ve done differently… She’s used to feeling ashamed and insecure about her ability to read people like a book. But this is the first time she’s ever felt ashamed for not using her skills to help someone, but truly she had just made a bad judgement call. The others will forgive her, so why don’t you?

“I’m sure Cass had her reasons to not pry,” Stephanie defends her friend, but it sounds weak even to Cassandra’s ears.

“It doesn’t change that it’s cruel,” Duke says as his glare turns to Stephanie and her. “you’re all pathetic and selfish if you can defend Cain’s actions. I’ll be going, call me when there is an actual emergency.”

“When will you move in?” Bruce asks, trying to keep Duke to stay just a bit longer, he wants to know if Duke knows why you are in Cobblepot’s restaurant.

But he won't bite, he knows that that question is just meant to keep him in the cave longer, so he turns around to leave, making sure to keep his tone low and full of contempt as he says; “Soon, when my disgust towards you all becomes bearable.”

NEXT PART I know this chapter mainly focused on Bruce, but I really wanted Duke to make his dissapointment clear to the batfamily, in the next (side) chapters the others reactions will become clearer. But this month I'll be having my final exams and one final presentation, as in if I pass these three I wil get my degree as paralegal and then I'll prepare for my next degree which will basically translate to a bachelor Law. This means I will be focusing on school. And my grandpa got out of the hospital. May is being awesome so far, hope it's going this amazing for you guys too<3

taglist (closed): @prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue, @bunniotomia, @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @princessbonnie-bell, @seemee3, @pix-stuff, @venomsvl, @amber-content, @stove-top96, @frank-vanderboom, @leeiasure, @1abi, @shadowytravelerlover, @chericia, @lithiumval, @lingxio, @cssammyyarts, @marsmabe, @foolishseven, @kore-of-the-underworld, @bunbunboysworld, @homeless-clown, @miashico, @alwaysholymilkshake, @1cxndy, @kittzu, @rtyuy1346, @exactlynumberonekryptonite, @hopingtoclearmedschool, @artistwithcreativeburnout, @alishii, @vanessa-boo, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @91-kya, @ryuushou, @jjsmeowthie, @justthere1956, @depressed--therapist, @xzmickeyzx, @cheappremingerfromdelululand, @plsfckmedxddy, @itsberrydreemurstuff, @trashlaternfish360, @leogf, @dirtydiavolo, @lilyalone, @welpthisisboring, @kenman00001, @nxdxsworld, @icefox8155, @ironsaladwitch, @holderoflostmemories, @asillysimp, @wisefuncherryblossom, @eyeless-kun, @marina27826, @muggleloveralways, @ironsaladwitch, @shyenemyperson, @iamaunknownsecret

[butyoudidthis4what]

Would You Believe Me If...

Jack Abbot x F!Reader

3.5k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CWs: mentions of alcohol; reference to sex; mental health issues; reader is not having a great time; reader doesn't like beer; depression; being sad for no articulable reason; self-hate; ass grab; kissing with tongue; little to no editing/proofreading; Jack being the BEST; hurt/comfort type situation (reader's brain is the hurt, Jack is the comfort)

Summary: Jack sees the sadness you're hiding from everyone and pulls you aside to talk and love on you.

AN: I was sent this ask and inspired to write whatever this is!!!! A short little fluffy comfort fic! I very much agree with that anon that Jack is very much an "On purpose. On purpose I am going to care about you" and "I never loved you on accident?" man. He would see all of you, good and bad, and still love you. I tried to give him that kind of vibe in You're Okay too and we see it here again (I hope, I don't really know what I'm doing anymore). I have absolutely zero fucking clue what the end is or where that came from but here we are friends. ALSO there is a very small Star Wars nod in here since I’m posting on May 4th! Thank you for reading!!

Jack’s eyes find you the second he hears you laugh. 

Quite literally a second because he’s always keeping an eye on you when you’re out together, not controlling or because he cares who you’re with. He just always wants to know where you are relative to him, just in case something happens and he needs to get to you. Military training, he supposes.

His eyes find you because he knows that laugh. It’s not your real laugh. It’s fake, the one you put on when you’re not super present and are hiding your sadness. To anyone else it’s very convincing, they don’t blink at it. 

He narrows his eyes a little to watch you better as you chat with McKay, Samira and Parker. Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes and he can see your leg bouncing under the picnic table, can see the way you chew on the side of your cheek every so often. 

“You gonna pay attention to this conversation or just stare at your girl all day?” Robby asks Jack. Most of the crew is at a local park for a picnic celebrating Dana’s birthday.

“I’ve been paying attention and heard everything you said. Unlike you I can multitask.” Jack finally lets his eyes leave you as he turns to look back at Robby. Shen and Whitaker stifle laughs. Everyone knows it’s not true and just Jack giving Robby shit. You have to be able to multitask to be a good emergentologist, and Robby is one of the best, Jack’s told him that many times. 

“I agree though,” Jack nods at Robby. “The patient satisfaction scores are bullshit. They should automatically be a ten or whatever the highest thing on the fucking form is if they’re brough in via ambulance and survive.”

“People come in by ambulance for really stupid things that don’t really require us saving them,” Whitaker observes. 

“And people walk in with injuries they really should have come in an ambulance for,” Robby shrugs. “It would even itself out.” 

“Exactly,” Jack nods. He looks back over at you for a second and then stands up. “I’ll be back.”

“Sure you will,” Robby drawls, smirking. 

Jack ignores him as he starts walking over to you. “Hey,” he says to the group as he reaches you, sets his hands on your shoulders from behind and squeezes. You feel a little better already, just from being closer to him. The rest of the group continues chatting as he leans down to speak just to you. “Take a walk with me for a few minutes?”

You furrow your brows, tilt your head and look back a little to see him. “Um, sure. Is there a reason why? Are you sure? It seemed like you guys were having a good conversation.” You flick your head towards Robby, Shen and Whitaker. 

“I’m sure. And does there need to be a reason why I want to take a walk with my girl?” He turns his head a little more and places a soft kiss just below your ear. 

My girl. Even though you’ve been together for a while now it still makes you a little dizzy to hear. 

“No, I guess not.” You give him one of those fake smiles and he knows it’s not because you’re trying to fool him, not really, deep down you know better than to even try by this point, but because you’re in public. Have to keep up appearances. 

“Well I know not, so.” He leans back up and moves his hands from your shoulders. “I’m stealing her for a minute.” He nods at the group. It pulls some smirks but nobody says anything, they all just nod. As you get up Jack finishes off the little bit of cider left in the bottle you were nursing. 

Once you’re up Jack laces his hand with yours and leads you over to the park’s path, walks down it a ways with you in silence before pulling you off it. He walks with you on the grass until you come to a spot where the ground starts to slope down, the top of a little hill that provides a nice view of the sun setting over the city. You’re more than far away enough that nobody can hear or see you.

“What’s up?” You titter a little, clearly a bit nervous. 

Jack nods at the ground and you both sit, feet out in front of you, grass and soil dry from the heat of the day. “You were totally spaced out and not really there.” He eyes you carefully. “You’re back now, for the most part, but I wanted to see what’s up away from everyone.” 

You push your bottom lip out a little and shrug, shake your head. “I’m f-” Jack gives you a look. “I don’t even know why I bother trying,” you mutter. 

“Neither do I. But I get it. Wanting to hide it and not let me see because you know I don’t like seeing you upset. I feel the same.” He squeezes your leg gently and doesn’t press when you’re quiet for a bit as you think of what you want to say. 

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t know?” you murmur. You already know the answer but you’re using the question as an answer itself.

“Yeah.” Jack pauses and cocks his head at you, catches your eyes and holds your gaze as he speaks. “Would you believe me if I told you it was okay not to know?” He already knows the answer but he’s using the question to tell you it’s okay. 

You let out a breath through your nose and shake your head a little as you look away from him and out at the city, Jack doing the same. “I know it is. Rationally. But the irrational side of my brain doesn’t.”

You see Jack nod out of the corner of your eye. He gives you space to think, sits in the background buzz of the park with you, hand running up and down your thigh to ground you, remind you he’s here. 

“I’m just sad.” You shrug. You aren’t teary, don’t even have the urge to cry at the moment. It’s a hollow sadness. One that just vaguely aches and makes you tired. “There’s no reason for it. Just am.” 

“Would you believe me if I told you that’s okay too?” Again, he knows the answer but uses the question to make the point. 

“Is it though Jack?” You reply quickly. It surprises him, catches him off guard. 

He turns back to study your face, see if he can read what this is from your profile. He has a feeling he knows where this is going. 

“It doesn’t feel okay,” you continue. “Not even for me, but for you. It’s not fair to you. For me to just randomly be sad sometimes and unable to explain why. Because fuck Jack, I just want to sit here and be sad. I just want to sit here and be sad and maybe cry if I can get past whatever fucking emotional brick it is that’s stopping me from doing so. But what I don’t want is for you to have to sit here with me in it.” 

Jack lets your words hang in the air for a few seconds so that you know he’s really listening and taking them in, but not so long that it feels like he’s having to think of a response.

“It is okay. I promise you it is.” As much as he loves eye contact he knows it would be a little too much for you right now so he doesn’t push you to look at him or try to catch your gaze. “And it’s okay for us to just sit here. We can just sit in the sad. I hate seeing you be sad and struggle, yes. But sometimes you just need to sit here and feel it. And I want to be there next to you when you do. You don’t have to be okay and happy all of the time. You’re allowed to just sit here and be sad or whatever emotion you want to be. You don’t constantly have to be working towards being better when you get sad like this. We can stay here for a bit. I’m not going to let you or us unpack and move here, but we can visit sometimes. You can feel whatever it is you need to feel in front of me and with me. I want you to.”  

You let out a shaky breath. You know that what he’s saying is true. At least part of you does. But it’s so hard to accept. 

“And there are very few things in life that I have to do anymore, sweetheart.” He gives your leg a little squeeze before resuming running his hand up and down it. “You’re not holding me hostage or keeping me here against my will. I know I don’t have to sit here with you while you’re sad and don’t know why. I don’t feel like I have to. I choose to. I choose to sit next to you here in the sadness the way you do for me when I want to sit and be sad and not know why. I choose you.” 

“You should choose better.” It’s whispered. “You deserve better.” 

Jack starts shaking his head before you even finish the word better. 

“Yes, Jack, you do,” you say before he can get anything out. “Because you’ve been through so much already. You deserve to be with someone better. Someone easier to love who isn’t constantly putting you through shit like this. I know you love me, Jack, I promise. I never doubt that. But sometimes I don’t understand why you love me. Why you love me when I can be so fucking awful and all over the place and sad randomly for no reason. Do you see that Jack? Do you really see me? What you put yourself through by loving me?” 

Jack’s hand stills and squeezes your thigh again, longer this time, but still at the perfect pressure. He hurts, physically, his heart hurts seeing you like this, hearing your voice and knowing how much you mean what you’re saying. He hates it. He wishes he could take away your pain. But he can’t. All he can do is try to help and try to make you feel a little better and at the very least not let you be alone in it. 

He adjusts his position so that he’s turned toward you a bit more, the side of one of your legs and one of his pressed together. 

“Darling, the way you see and feel about yourself is not the way I see or feel about you. Just like the way I see myself and feel about myself is not the way you see or feel about me. We’re our own worst critics, as fucking cliché as that shit is. And I love you and mean this with all the love in the world, but you’re right. You can be awful at times. But the only person you’re ever awful to is yourself. Like you are right now.” You can feel tears start to form behind your eyes at that. Not because it’s mean and his words have hurt you. Because he’s right and you know it. 

He takes in a deep breath and looks out at the city for a moment before his gaze returns to you. “I don’t put myself through anything by loving you. I’m not burdened by loving you. And of course I see you, I always have,” he says with a heavy conviction. “You think I fell in love with you by accident? Or blindly? With my eyes closed?” 

You swallow thickly, can feel his eyes on you. “No.” Tears sting at your eyes now. “But still. You shouldn’t have to do this with me. I shouldn’t be work. But I am.”  

“Oh honey,” Jack breathes out softly. He takes a second and then shifts, sits a bit further up and grabs your legs, pulls them diagonal a bit and you a little closer so they can rest on top of his and you can look at each other better.   

“I need you to listen to me, yeah? Really listen.” Jack holds your face with his hands, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones for a second while he looks you in the eyes. “Loving you is not the chore that your past has made you think it is.” He squeezes your face a little. “It’s not a chore at all. It’s a fucking privilege.” 

That gets a few tears to slide down your face and Jack’s thumbs are quick to wipe them away.

“And I know you can’t see that, and that you might never be able to see that. But it’s okay, because I do. And I will tell you it over and over and over and over until you understand why Robby tells me nicely to shut the fuck up sometimes.” He gives you the smallest knowing smirk.

You laugh at that, and it’s watery, and through your tears, but it’s real. You love the way he does that. Knows when to instill just enough lightness into this serious of a conversation to keep you grounded and from getting completely overwhelmed, but also knows when it’s not appropriate in a serious conversation. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper through some tears and shrug at him. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Jack whispers back. He leans in and kisses your forehead, lets his lips linger there before pulling them away and resting his forehead against yours.

“You have to repeat this speech a lot.”

“I know.” He says it so matter of fact as he pulls his forehead from yours to look at you better. His hands leave your face and take yours in his, fingers tangling together.

“It makes me feel really bad. Like it’s going to push you away. Or like you’re going to think I don’t trust you or your love or-”

“I don’t think that, nor will I. I understand, baby. I really do. Because I feel the same way sometimes. I don’t care that you need reassurance at times. It doesn’t make me feel like you’re questioning me, or my love, or our love. It doesn’t make me feel like I’m the problem or somehow doing something wrong or not doing enough or anything else. It makes me feel like sometimes your brain’s chemicals get a little fucked up. And you know what? So do mine. I think we’ve had this conversation at least a time or two with the roles reversed. I think you have to repeat a version of the speech I’m giving you right now a lot. And do you care?”

You shake your head gently. “No. I would give you it every day if you needed me to.” 

“Guess what?” he whispers.

“So would you?” You give him a little pout and big doe eyes that show how much you love him and it’s so adorable he has to smile a little.

“Yeah. So would I.”  

He leans back in but this time he gives you a kiss on the lips, lingers just long enough before he breaks it and nuzzles his nose against yours. You keep your eyes closed as he pulls away, a little smile on your face. You open your eyes just in time to see the nearly beaming smile it pulls from Jack. 

The two of you sit there for a few more minutes before you finally turn to look at him. “We should go back.” 

“Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows at you. “We can stay longer.” 

You shake your head. “No, I’m ready.” Jack nods, gently moves your legs off his and stands up before holding both hands out to help you up. 

Instead of taking your hand and starting to walk back though he slips his arms around you, slides his hands in your back pockets and pulls you right up against him by your ass. He raises his eyebrows and smirks a little, a slight bobble of his head when it makes you gasp in surprise. 

His hands leave your pockets and slide up so that they’re wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him. You rest your hands on his chest, look up at him knowing he wants your eye contact. Jack smiles when you give it to him. 

“I see you. I see all of you. Even the parts you don’t want me to see. The parts you’ll never show anyone else. And I did before I fell in love with you. And I still chose to jump head fucking first into being in love with you and even right now, sitting here in the sad with you, I’d make the same choice without a second thought.” One of his hands comes to hold your jaw, thumb on one side of your chin, his other four fingers on the other side, index finger right in front of your ear and the other three just below your ear and on your neck. “I choose you. All of you. Not just the you that you like and think is good enough. I choose all of you because I love all of you and I know that all of you is more than good enough. I choose you and I will always choose you and I know I’m lucky to get to make that choice. I love you.”

Jack kisses you then, hand tightening just a little to hold you still for him. They’re chaste at first but turn deeper, his tongue running over one of your lips, a silent question. You let your hands run up his chest and over his shoulders before sliding your fingers into his hair, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck and open your mouth for him in silent answer, just enough for him to slip his tongue in and taste you, let you taste him. The taste of you pulls a groan from deep in Jack’s chest and you shiver. You only pull back when you’re desperate for air and Jack chases your lips with his. It makes you giggle.

You can feel him smile against your lips as he rests his forehead against yours again.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “And I choose you too. I love you.”

“I know.” You feel him smile a little wider against your lips before he gives you another kiss. 

You bite your lip as he pulls away, let your eyes open back up slowly to his grin. Jack grabs your hand and leads you back towards the path.

It hits you a few steps in. “You taste like cider.”

“Yeah,” Jack nods.

“You don’t like cider. You don’t drink it.”

“Yeah,” Jack shrugs slightly. “But I was drinking beer and you hate the taste of beer. And I knew I was going to kiss you like that so when you got up from the table I finished off your cider so you wouldn’t taste the beer on me.”

You beam up at him and he just smiles, can feel your happiness. He knows it hasn’t made it all better, that you might still be sad overall, that it might linger for a while.

You walk in a comfortable silence for a minute until you break it. 

“They’re going to think we fucked, probably.” You smirk a little at Jack. 

“You wanna play into it?” He’s so unfazed and stoic about it. So Jack. “I can go grab some little twigs to put in your hair, a leaf, some grass.” 

You burst out laughing. Properly. Fully. Real.

“Twigs?!” For some reason him saying the word twigs is hysterical to you. 

“There’s my favorite sound,” Jack laughs with you. “Well, one of them, anyway.” 

“Oh?” You glance up at him as your laughter trails off. 

“You would have been making another one of my favorite sounds if we had in fact fucked,” he says nonchalantly, swinging your hands a little.

“Oh,” you breathe. You can feel the smirk radiating off him. “Do you have more favorite sounds?”

“Course.” You see him nod out of the corner of your eye. “You saying my name. You saying you love me.” He squeezes your hand. “And the sound of your heartbeat when I rest my head on your chest.” 

You bite your lip at that. It’s so sweet it almost makes your heart ache. “Awwwww!” You squeeze his hand and lean into him. “You’re such a romantic, pookie.” 

“Ha!” The pet name catches him by surprise. “No.” Jack shakes his head at it, but his smile gives him away.

“Pookie is cute!”

“Do you understand the actual level of shit I would get from Robby if he ever heard you call me pookie? I’d have to get a new best friend and a new job.” You giggle at him. “You’re laughing but I’m serious.” 

“I’ll go into work with you one day this week and conspire with Myrna to come up with an even better nickname than fruitcake for Robby if you’ll let me call you pookie sometimes.”

Jack stops walking and looks down at you, pretends to eye you up for a second before giving you a little smirk. “Come up with something really good that’ll drive him up a wall and I’ll consider it.”  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm so sorry but the thought of hearing him say twig just sent me at the time I wrote this. I have no idea why. Anyway, I hope this was okay and you enjoyed and thank you so much for reading!!

You can find my Masterlist here for more Jack! Requests are closed while I catch up, but apparently if you just send in an ask with your thoughts about Jack I may be inspired and write something! I love chatting with you guys and likes/reblogs/replies are super appreciated and motivating!

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[alchemistc]

in three, two, one (anxiety)

The door swings on its hinges to reveal the crossed arms and unimpressed expression on Henrietta Wilson's face.

"Okay," Tommy says, with no idea what he's about to experience.

Hen doesn't move, but she does lift an incredibly judgmental brow. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Well. No sugarcoating it, then. "Several things," is not an answer that's gonna make her happy, however it is the one he has available to him at the moment.

Hen rolls her jaw the same time she purses her lips, and Tommy remembers that for a while there he'd stopped having an expressive face around her because he was afraid she'd somehow know.

She had known, but not because his eyebrows did half his talking for him.

"I'm gonna be honest, I don't know what answer you wanted from me."

"Not that one."

And then suddenly Hen is in his house.

He doesn't really have people over. He's certainly never had Hen over.

He took a sledgehammer to a side wall three days ago and he hasn't had more time to work on it than sweeping away the debris.

It's very noticeable.

Hen stops in her tracks halfway down the main hall to stare at it. "Several things," she repeats mockingly, under her breath, and makes a beeline for the kitchen that's now clearly visible behind the skeleton of a non-load-bearing wall.

He hasn't seen the 118 since the funeral. Not unexpected. Definitely not on purpose. He's always been just a hair outside of that group.

"So, my best firefighter is moping because the man he's been obsessed with for more than a year now hasn't called, and you're... knocking out walls."

"I've been meaning to knock out that wall for three years."

Her eyes roll around in her skull for a while before they catch his gaze. It's not an easy gaze to ignore. "Sure, nothing to do with the fact that the one conversation I know you two had in recent memory has to do with how annoyingly small and closed in the kitchen in his rental is."

A single moment of levity in a horribly sad day. But Evan hadn't asked to talk. Evan just lost the man he considered a father. So Tommy made small talk, and bit back the envious beast inside him when Eddie and Evan devolved into a squabble about the general layout of the house.

It had just reminded him of his plan, is all. The plan he's had for years, now. Nothing to do with Evan at all.

"You want some coffee? Orange juice? Maybe my drill so you can just lobotomize me instead of giving me cryptic, judgy eyes?"

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Tommy shoots her an exasperated look. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here against my own nature, to tell you to grow a pair and reach out to the man you stole government property and committed multiple felonies for."

"I've texted Howie," Tommy shoots back, just to avoid the inevitable for a few more moments. Out of all of them, he definitely never would have expected Hen to be the one staging an intervention. Or whatever this is meant to be.

The glib response was a mistake. The cheese Danish she tosses at his head looks delicious even as it bounces off his cheek and sails to the floor.

Tommy sighs. "Evan is fully capable of picking up the phone."

His daring rescue had ended in a loss. A major one. Tommy still doesn't fully understand what Athena had been thinking, asking him to help the 118 carry Bobby to his final destination. Something about firsts and lasts, although he'd been a little too wired to catch more than the gist, when she'd called.

"And what, exactly, is your issue with picking it up?"

The million dollar question. He'd dropped everything the moment he heard I need your help and it's weird and probably super illegal. A little breathless, like he was running. Like Tommy has heard him countless times in much more pleasant scenarios. But then there'd been Bobby. The funeral. Evan's stoicism leaking from his pores, three weeks on.

They'd both done a great job of making it not Tommy's place to do anything about that. And grief - grief changes the whole world. Entire personalities. The loss hasn't even had time to fully bruise over, even for Tommy. He doesn't know how he could have a place in that. Doesn't know if he'd even be wanted if he tried.

"So you're both idiots, is what you're telling me."

"Where'd you get those danishes?" Tommy asks, because avoidance is his bread and butter.

Hen's got a big ass Tupperware full of them he hadn't noticed until she cracked it open to commit assault with a pastry.

Hen groans. "These are Buck's Missing Tommy But Still Not Calling Him For Some Reason Danishes. Pretty sure he hasn't slept in three days. Half the station woke up to some sort of baked good on their doorstep this morning."

The fact that Tommy wasn't in the rotation probably means something. His house is a lot closer to Evan's than Hen's, Maddie's, likely Ravi's too.

"Eat a danish and call him, idiot," Hen says, and shoves the Tupperware at his chest.

---

The danish is to die for. Perfect flaky crust. Cream cheese mixture to die for. Three blueberries on top, a perfect little dusting of powdered sugar.

Tommy eats three in the husk of his kitchen and decides he hates the subway tiles he installed after he hooked up with Evan and immediately blew up any chance at reconciliation.

He's got the oven pulled out and a crowbar in hand to yank them out before he manages to take another full breath.

Hen seems to think he's got another shot at this. At the life he'd dipped his toes into, constantly darting away from that first chill of the water, never allowing his body to get comfortable. Never allowing his mind enough time to adjust to the temperature of it.

And yet somewhere along the way Evan had baked himself into Tommy's life - his routines, his itineraries, the day to day mundanity of Tommy's life. He'd made the world momentarily brighter, exponentially more terrifying.

Tommy'd been looking for ways to bail out even as he was giving Evan glimpses of his life.

He'd waited too long. Given himself too many allowances. Let Evan settle under his skin, in his bones.

Tommy lays the crowbar out on the counter. Wipes his suddenly sweaty hands on his jeans.

Reaches over the back of the oven to grab his phone.

Bangs his head on the overhang of the microwave as he tries to slip out from behind his panic project.

Well.

This is gonna go well.

[pagesfromthevoid]

Honey & Glass | r. r.

Robert "Bob" Reynolds x superpowered!reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, not a lot of Bob interaction just yet, Valentina and Walker need their own warnings

Author's Notes: I love him, okay? I'm not even sorry.

Masterlist | Talk to Me! | AO3

Six Months Before the Void

“Sergeant Barnes, if you would just give me a chance –,”

“A chance to do what, exactly?” Bucky asked, turning to face the young woman who had –for the better part of an hour –been following him through the charity event.

“Help with your campaign!” She explained, throwing her hands in the air. “Sir, you’re an icon. A legend. So it genuinely pains me to say this. But you suck at talking in front of the camera.”

He stared at her for a long moment, considering what she was saying. Okay, sure –he wasn’t great at interviews. But he was polling better than everyone else running against him. That had to mean something, right? He rolled his neck, pushing aside an annoying tingle that had shot up his spine. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” she continued, stepping in front of him, putting her hands up as if she could stop him from leaving. “You’re thinking that you’re polling better than everyone else running against you, and that has to mean something.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “How did –,”

“And it does mean something –but it won’t if you don’t learn how to address the public. The whole ‘man of the people’ schtick gets old fast when it���s less endearing and more ‘is this man actually qualified?’”

He doesn’t have time for this, he decided, shaking his head. Then he reached out to just move her –something he didn’t really like doing, but she was too persistent and kind of annoying, so he needed her to go away.

“I’m not going away!” She exclaimed, ducking away from his touch –as if she anticipated it. “Also don’t manhandle people –sir, do you realize how bad that looks? Like, our mayor does enough of that.”

“How are you doing that?” He demanded, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her to the side. Though his grip wasn’t tight –he didn’t want to hurt her.

“Doing what?” 

“Can you read my mind?” He demanded again, glaring down at her.

“I mean…,” she dragged out the phrase, making a ‘maybe’ sort of motion with her hands. “Listen, I told you I knew what you were thinking. But that’s not all I can do –and I can use it to help you.”

“Why on earth would you want to use your superpowers to help me run for Congress?”

“Because I actually think you can do good for Brooklyn,” she insisted, and Bucky swore that she was being genuine. “I am being genuine, sir. I care about my city. And I do think you can do a lot more than most can. But you need a public relations specialist and I am really good at my job. Theoretically, at least.”

“Theoretically?” He asked, frowning deeply.

“I mean, you would be my first client because I finished my Master’s like right before the Blip then disappeared technically, but I know I can be really good at my job if you just give me a chance. Please. I’ll even do it for free!”

“I’m not –you’re not doing it for free. I’ll pay you –,”

“Yes!” 

Present Day –D.C.

“Any word on our friend?” Bucky asks, glancing at his PR specialist slash assistant slash…well, everything, really. 

He isn’t sure how to describe the young woman who stood next to him, because she’s a jack of all trades at this point in his very short Congressional career. She started off managing his social media and helping his public image before the election. Bucky had to give credit where credit was due: the girl is good at her job. Her speech writing skills are solid. She keeps his message and support consistent. She even managed to get him less stiff and weird on camera. She keeps him on schedule and pushes him through things he doesn’t want to do, with both a smile and a snarky comment that lightens his frustrations. 

Her abilities came in handy quite a bit in these tasks. Between reading the minds of the people around her –knowing what they wanted, how they felt –and being able to project positive thoughts into a crowd…well, Bucky is glad she was so persistent six months ago.

But then she had a run-in with one of his opponents supporters, showing up to work disheveled and frustrated.

“It’s nothing,” she had insisted, “Just some asshole who thinks I’m a monster for helping you.”

Bucky decided that he could teach her a few things too.

She was a fast learner, and a willing student. If she got knocked down, she got up again and immediately sought feedback and improvement. While she’s no super soldier, she is able to hold her own if she needs to —after a few months. Bucky taught her how to handle a weapon or two, she taught him how to use Twitter and TikTok (which he hated, but damn did it help his numbers). It’s a good partnership.

The latest lesson is a bit of espionage –nothing super intense. Bucky is working on how to get Valentina Alegra de Fontaine impeached –and while his assistant was a great asset in confirming that Valentina was, in fact, guilty…well, the public doesn’t know he has a mutant in his employment. And while Bucky has no issue telling anyone, she does –and it isn’t his secret to tell.

“None of my family knows,” she explained over a beer one night after another charity gala. “I don’t…It’s not something I need anyone to know. I already know what everyone thinks; I don’t need them to start thinking specifically about me too. I don’t think I could handle it.”

“Her assistant –her name is Mel –is on the fence about her boss,” she explains, clicking away at her phone as she sends him over her notes. “I tried talking to her but she pretty much immediately beelined for the door when I got closer.”

“Who's the unapproachable one now?” He jokes, grinning down at her as he grabs a champagne glass for both of them. 

She snorts in response, taking a sip of the bubbly he hands her. “Still you, sir.”

“Fair enough,” he agrees, nodding some as he looks around the room. “Anything else?”

“She’s getting rid of any and all evidence of O.X.E and something called Project Sentry,” she continues, though she’s hiding her lips behind her glass. “I couldn’t figure out what that was –I’m sure something ratchet.”

“Ratchet?” He asks, frowning deeply.

“Terrible,” she offers. 

Her and her millennial slang. He couldn’t understand it half the time.

“I’ll try to get closer –,”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, stepping in front of her. “Cool it for the night. I have some angles that I can work with; I need you to do what you do best now.”

“Get people to think you’re not a weird old man from the forties?”

“...yes.”

“Can do, sir.” She salutes him, grinning up at him. 

Bucky shoos her away, shaking his head, then heads off to locate Congressman Gary about his findings.

*****

She sees coordinates.

She knows she promised Bucky she wouldn’t get closer to Valentina, but she never promised she wouldn’t pay attention to Mel.

“I know you’re avoiding me,” she comments as she slips behind Mel with a polite smile and glass of champagne. “I don’t know why. I thought we were like…I don’t know, two peas in a pod. Assistants to weirdly powerful people –,”

“Oh, I’m not –,” Mel starts but bites her tongue. “I’m not avoiding you. Just super busy. You know, being an assistant to a weirdly powerful person.”

She nods, sipping her drink thoughtfully. But Mel is focused on her tablet again, and the coordinates are flashing in her mind as she looks at a name –John Walker. U.S. Agent. Dime store Captain America. She makes a face behind her glass, unable to help it. 

The same coordinates flash again, indicating that Walker was being sent somewhere to get rid of someone named Belova in Utah. 

She hums as she jots down the coordinates in her phone, fully intending to send them to Bucky.

“Well, well –finally, I get the pleasure of meeting the little girl who’s made our junior congressman remotely functional,” Valentina announces from behind, catching her off guard. “You know, you could do a lot better.”

She smiles politely, though she wonders if it looks as forced as it feels. “I don’t think I could, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Valentina hums, bumping shoulders with Mel, who looks painfully uncomfortable. Her thoughts are loud. What is she doing? She literally told me not to talk to this girl. Why is she talking to her? What’s her angle? Is she trying to fire me? Do I want to be fired?? “Could work with us –I bet your skills would do wonders.”

She narrows her eyes at the inflection –at the implication –in Valentina’s tone. “I think you have an excellent assistant already, Ms. de Fontaine –,”

“Oh, I don’t need another assistant. Mel is perfect,” though her tone sounds…alarmingly poisonous. “You, though…you could be so much more than just Bucky Barnes’ pretty assistant.”

“I am more than that, ma’am,” she argues, narrowing her eyes. 

“I think you have the potential to be a hero,” Valentina continues, ignoring her. “Think about what you could do with those powers of yours.”

“I don’t –,”

“Oh please,” the director of the CIA interrupts. “Number one, it’s obvious that you can read minds. You know way too much and have almost no contacts in D.C. Just because everyone else in this room is oblivious doesn’t mean I am. Number two, you have an actual talent –something that can literally calm down the worst of the worst without even touching them. Think about what you could do with that.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but stops herself. Valentina is manipulating her. She knows that the director is. It’s obvious, and Valentina isn’t even trying to hide it.

“I’m making an impact here,” she says, though she’s not half as confident as she was before. 

“Are you, though?”

“More so than a woman experimenting on humans and destroying the evidence.”

Valentina laughs –well, snorts really, because her laugh is not from amusement. “Shit, you know. I thought I could get you. That’s unfortunate. Now you’re just a liability.”

Her brow furrows and as she’s about to call out –for Bucky, for someone –there’s a high pitched screeching in her ears and everything goes fuzzy. She curses out loud as Valentina calls for help –as someone helps her up and leads her away. She can’t hear what’s going on –she can’t see what’s being presented to the crowd. But through blurry eyes, she can see Bucky trying to make his way through the crowd. 

She’s blacked out before she knows if he’s going to help her.

*****

Her head hurts.

That’s all she can focus on.

There’s a dull ache in her skull like someone took a screwdriver and tried to scramble her brain through her ears. 

The pain, however, is overcome by the sound of gunshots echoing in an empty room.

She rolls over, bumping into a crate or something, and tries to push herself onto her knees. There’s yelling and gunshots and she’s barely able to think let alone move. But she manages to get herself sitting up, eyes screwed tight as she presses her head into the crate behind her. She needs to get her bearings. She needs to figure out where she is and she needs to call Bucky because she fucked up and now she’s probably in danger and –

“It’s getting kind of tense out there,” a voice whispers –trembling, soft. 

But she’s not expecting anyone to be so close to her and she screams out, throwing herself away from him. 

The gunshots stop, and there’s a silence for a moment as the weapons shift towards her and this man she doesn’t recognize. Though, she’s certain that even if she could see properly without feeling like her brain was bleeding, she wouldn’t know who he is.

“And who are you?” Someone asks, and she can hear footsteps coming closer. 

She tries to mask herself –hide from whatever is probably going to kill her –but the moment she even considers her powers –there’s another violent jolt down her spine and she cries out in pain.

“Oh,” the man above her says, putting his hands up. “I’m –I’m uh, Bob. I don’t –well, I don’t know who she is –,”

“Don’t involve me in this,” she hisses as he points to her, though she looks up as John Walker peers down at her. She glares at him through squinted, bloodshot eyes. 

“Aren’t you…Bucky’s assistant?” He asks, holstering his gun.

She nods once, swallowing hard. “Yeah…yeah, I am.”

“How the hell did you both get in here?” the Russian asks.

“I don’t remember,” Bob admits, still trembling some as he looks down at her on the floor. “I found her like that –,”

“I think I was kidnapped,” she explains as Walker offers her a hand to stand. She slaps it away and slowly pushes herself up. “Fucking Valentina –,”

“So just to confirm,” the Russian begins. “Valentina sent…all of us here, to kill each other. Plus two civilians?”

“I think she sent me here to get killed,” she offers, leaning against the crate to hold her up. “I, uh, can read minds and shit.”

“Ah, okay. Liability,” the Russian confirms, as if it was obvious. “Doesn’t explain Bob though.”

“Wait, you guys were sent?” He asks, and she’s taking a breath and finally finds herself focusing a little better.

She glances at Bob now, taking a moment to finally look at him. He’s in scrubs, disheveled and confused. She, probably inappropriate for the moment, thinks he would be kind of cute if he was a little more cleaned up. Or least not in scrubs. 

There’s not a chance in hell she can read his thoughts –her brain is still a mess. She tries to focus her gaze, blinking away the fuzziness that had overwhelmed her. Things were getting clearer; their thoughts —though still fragmented and scrambled like a TV without signal —were finally breaking through. He’s standing there barefoot and it's hard to believe that he wasn’t just…here already. He seems too confused to have snuck in, and more importantly too scrambled.

“I don’t think it matters, really,” she finally says, standing up straight. “We need to get out because Valentina is absolutely trying to kill all of us.”

“Okay, these two —yeah, I get it,” Walker argues, motioning to the Russian —Yelena— and the other woman —Ava —she’s gathered. “But I’m a decorated war vet. I was Captain America —,”

Bob suddenly laughs, and the sound feels almost unnerving in the situation they’re in. She turns to him, his fragmented thoughts loud and…and scary.

Walker isn’t amused. “What’s so funny, Bobby?”

Some thought —or maybe emotion —flares up in Bob but he just laughs uncomfortably again. 

“You keep saying you’re Captain America,” he explains, wringing his hands. 

“And why is that funny?” Walker presses and his thoughts are getting louder now too. 

“It’s just…you’re an asshole.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Walker looks mortified and angry. Yelena is clearly holding back her laughter while Ava is more focused on getting the hell out. But Bob is laughing —boyish, timid, and dare she admit it, kind of cute. And she can’t help but laugh now too. 

“Oh, god. He’s got such a point. God bless you, Bob, thank you so much for seeing things clearly,” she agrees, putting a hand on Bob’s shoulder. “Walker’s literally the worst.”

There’s a moment. The room shifts, like how it shifts when she uses her powers. But it’s darker, and she’s familiar with her room she’s standing in. It doesn’t last though. As she’s trying to figure out where she is, it shifts back. 

And suddenly she’s back in the vault, hand on his shoulder, and everyone staring at her like she’s lost her goddamn mind. Maybe she has, because she’s worried she’s accidentally lost control. And that’s never happened before. She’s usually in far more control —but she chalks it up to anxiety and shakes herself out of it. She didn’t mean to do it; it wasn’t on purpose. Bob does seem a bit put out by it though; blue eyes wide as he stares at her like he’s done something wrong. 

“Sorry, I —,” he starts, but an alarm goes off, interrupting her thoughts and she drops her hand from Bob’s shoulder. 

“We need to get out of here,” Yelena states, pointing to the clock on the wall. “We find the console that controls the barrier, Ava can get through and open it from the other side. Once we’re out, we split up, we find an exit. Walker, keep assistant girl and Bob alive.”

There’s arguing, and their thoughts are getting louder as she’s finally coming into focus again. She wants to argue and remind them what her name is but it seems redundant at this point, given she’s probably going to die. 

Oh. Oh god. She’s actually going to die. She’s actually enough of a liability that someone wants her dead and she’s going to die in a vault underground, with a bunch of assholes and some guy named Bob. Her hand grabbed at her chest, trying to ease that panic as she fell against another crate, sitting down and breathing hard. 

“I’m going to die because I’m too good at my job,” she mumbles to herself. “God, what the fuck?”

“You’re not going to die,” Walker insists as Yelena shouts out in discovery. Walker turns his attention to the Russian, hurrying over to smash the controls in with his shield. 

“We might die,” Bob offers, as if that was reassuring. He sits beside her, hands in his lap as he picks at the skin around his nails. “It’s fine, I think.”

Another yell of triumph and they both watch as Ava phased through the walls, finding an escape. If she wasn’t so scared of death, she would have been wholly impressed. Bob patted her shoulder awkwardly —though she pulled away. 

“Don’t —I don’t want to accidentally make you see my thoughts,” she explains, frowning deeply as he drops his hand. “I appreciate the thought, Bob. I just —I don’t want to freak you out.”

“Oh,” though he doesn’t really seem to understand what she means. 

“Come on!” Walker suddenly screams, hitting the door. “Where the hell is she!”

The two civilians stand, moving to stand behind Yelena and Walker. The timer is counting down and the thoughts around her are…alarmingly accepting of their fates. Walker and Yelena both seem to be totally fine if this is where the line ends for them. And Bob…well, his thoughts are still fragmented and confusing, but he seems just as willing to die down here as the other two. 

“Oh my god,” she whispers, covering her eyes. “You’re all suicide risks.”

[betweensnoopy]

crush!hamzah

summary: hamzah has a secret crush on you.. not really a secret tho.. (headcannons)

crush!hamzah always looks for you in a crowded place or a party and STAYS. BY. YOUR. SIDE. for example, last week at party of mutual friend of you and hamzah—you showed up to the party and thirty minutes later hamzah found out you, making your night even better. don’t worry about martin he’s probably dancing with mandy or having a drink with her so he occupied the whole night and not worried about hamzah. and if it’s a lame party then you and hamzah are in y’all’s own world, and you like it that way.

ଂ ❀.ྀི

you and hamzah sit on the concrete stairs in front of the loud house playing music, sharing a blunt.

“lowkey this is party is lame..” you say quietly, taking a hit of the blunt. hamzah already looking at you, nods his head and looks away once you look at him “yeah lowkey… um.. you wanna go get some mcdonalds? they close in like an hour.” the nervous boy asks, looking at the time on his phone

you look at hamzah and smile “you always read my mind, let’s go.” you say—standing up and holding your hand out for hamzah to grab—and with no problem hamzah took it and you guys abandoned the party.

crush!hamzah always looks at you. well, not in a creepy way of course, but in a admirable and sincere way. you could be talking about anything and this man looks at you like he wants to marry you. he always looks away when you catch him or look at him but he’s subtle with it most of the time. if your across the room—he’s staring. hamzah could be having a whole conversation and looking at you the whole time while your doing what you’re doing and sometimes martin, chase, or whoever has to shake him out of the stare, just for him to miss the moment where you looked at him back.

ଂ ❀.ྀི

“and it’s so.. lik-” chase stops himself abruptly and gives hamzah a weird look after he sees that hamzah is definitely not interested in this conversation. following hamzah’s eyes, he sees that he’s staring at you. watching you as you talk to mandy and claire about your new shein cart you just bought and can’t wait to show it off, and apparently hamzah can’t wait either. hamzah watches how you talk with your hands, laugh at almost everything, and fidget the matching bracelet on your wrist.

“um hello creeper? you wanna go have girl talk over there?” chase teases, snapping hamzah out of his thoughts. hamzah looks at chase and clears his throat “what? sorry i zoned out.” boy.. no you didn’t.

speaking of matching bracelets, crush!hamzah and you got matching bracelets one day out of nowhere. and no, they’re not like those cringy bestfriend bracelets, you guys literally got matching hawk tuah bracelets—you getting the hawk and hamzah getting the tuah..

ଂ ❀.ྀི

strolling around the mall, you and hamzah stop but this store and look around until something caught your eye. “hamzah come here!” you squeal and hold up the two bracelets. setting down the shirt he was looking at—hamzah walked over to you and laughed as he saw what was in your hand. “oh my gosh, we have to get these.” he laughs and takes the tuah one.

hamzah buys them (such a gentlemen) and puts your wrists together to take a picture. being this close to hamzah never made you this nervous before, after the picture we guys admire the bracelets and look at each other. faces literally almost touching.. you two awkwardly move away and laugh it off.

being around crush!hamzah always give you a weird feeling in your stomach. not a bad kind but weird.. you don’t know why it happens you just know ever since that moment at the mall you’ve felt very unusual around him. it’s not any better now that you’re at his house and literally only 2 feet away from him.

ଂ ❀.ྀི

you and hamzah always hang out on the weekends, it’s just a thing that you guys do. but this weekend felt strange, you and hamzah keep looking at one another when the other is not looking and you’re so close you can hear him breathing… (girl move a little..)

“Um so.. is it just me or has it been weird lately..?” you say and look at hamzah. he turns away from the tv and his brown eyes at you. he looks in your eyes, then your lips, and then looks away. “uhh.. i mean.. a little bit.” he mumbles. you hum and press your lips into a thin line realizing this conversation is going no where.

you open your mouth to say something but hamzah beats you to it. “I can’t take this anymore.. y/n i like you. like really like you, like a lot um.. shit.. i don’t know if you feel the same way… but i always look forward to seeing you every weekend and joking with you and laughing with you. i hope this doesn’t ruin our friendship” hamzah says quickly before covering his mouth.

your eyes go wide and your heart beats faster. not only did your best friend confess his love to you.. but your secret crush just confessed his love to you.

you guys just sit there for a moment in silence—taking in what just happened. hamzah looks straightforward trying not to make eye contact with you while you stay in your position, still looking at him. “hamzah,” you say softly and turn his head towards you. you look into his eyes and then his lips, not even realizing y’all are getting closer.

you hesitate but hamzah puts his hand on your cheek and smashes his lips into yours—you quickly kiss back and close your eyes. the kiss was slow and soft, you turn your head to the side to get more access. hamzah guides your hips on top on him—now straddling on his lap.

you two slowly pull back from the kiss, realizing you just kissed the boy you’ve been feigning for months.

“that took long enough” hamzah smiles

you chuckle and pull him into another slow kiss again.

hi guys! i made this a little longer because the last one was a little short but thank you for all the notes on my last post! I hope you guys like this one, if you want to request something don’t be afraid to ask!

-reneé

[unionizedwizard]

actually artoirel is one of the funniest and most tragic characters in heavensward like. man. imagine being the first trueborn son of one of the highest noble houses in a country where primogeniture is the word of law, having spent your entire life doing your damndest to fulfill your ordained role in life & gaining you father's approval, only to be the second-favorite son because your father likes his illegitimate son better than you—and you can't even truly blame him because yeah, your half-brother is just that lovable; having almost none of the privileges that your birth allowed you, he's still proud and happy and takes everything in stride; he's pretty much the embodiment of the chivalric ideal you both are meant to uphold; his men love and respect him because he's both a capable leader and a really good person; he is the ultimate faithful and virtuous knight and he's so good that he doesnt even begrudge you the place and privileges that he should be allowed, which makes you definitely ashamed of being jealous of him: he plainly likes and respects YOU!; he shows up one day begging your father for a huge favor (which he usually never does, as he doesn't like to use his connections for his own ends, thus lending a special weight to the request) i.e housing and protecting his "friend" of whom he speaks like they're the embodiment of hope and a new avatar of the Fury herself and YOUR FATHER ACTUALLY CONSENTS, much to your dismay, and THEN when said ""friend"" shows up (with their own retinue)—a complete stranger, a so-called "hero", more like a fraud in your opinion, but it's not like you were allowed to give your opinion in this matter anyway—you're half-secretly praying that they're just overrated and will fail but they actually are just that cool—dishonor upon dishonor: your father assigns them your own mission (the shame!!) and THEN you send them to what is most likely their own death in the field (cowardly and despicable move that should definitely strip you of your honor in the eyes of men and the gods both) but, against all odds, they actually survive AND succeed (and don't even blame you?? therefore proving their own moral superiority—JUST like your brother), so you have no choice but to actually agree with your brother here, and oh no you watch your father start actually loving them, and THEN your brother literally dies the single most heroic and righteous death a knight could ever wish for, and YOU, INSTEAD OF MECHANICALLY BECOMING THE NEW FAVORITE, even as you are named the new Count as your father steps down from the role—you realize with growing horror that you will never, ever be the first in his heart because now your dead brother has become a literal cult object, a genuine holy martyr, no less, and he tells the new similarly-virtuous-embodiment-of-chivalric-virtues illegitimate-born knight-leader that he sees your glorified dead brother in him in front of you and witnesses, including the stranger your brother died to protect, and it's only ever going to be that way. forever. and you always did what you were asked. and all you did was seeking to gain your father's approval by playing by the rules. ah well. luckily your younger brother is such a fuckup you can vent your frustrations on him and scorn him like the rest of the world does, at the very least,

[dantes-jacket]

Moving on in

Dante x fem reader

Author notes: request #9!! You just moved right next to Devil May Cry. You and Dante are quick to get close but neither of you make a move. So Lady and Trish take it upon themselves to make something happen. Fluff, a smidge of angst (if you can really call it that) THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE HEHEEH

Your move into a new city wasn’t bad. The small house was nice and it wasn’t too hard lugging all your belongings inside. You were able to set everything up just how you wanted.

You finish packing up a box of cookies to give to your neighbors while you introduce yourself. The place next to you is interesting. It’s a relatively big place with a bright LED sign saying “Devil May Cry”. What that means you have no idea. Again you just moved here and have no idea your way around yet.

You head on over to your neighbors and knock on the door. You hear a heavy set of footsteps coming to the door then the door is opened.

“How can I help you?” The man asks. You get a good look at him and you can’t help but widen your eyes. He is so beautiful. He’s got long white hair and piercing blue eyes. You ogle him some more and can tell he’s strong. He’s absolutely ripped. His shirt is clinging to him in all the right ways. It emphasizes his big biceps, his strong pecs and you can even see the outline of his abs. His pants don’t leave much for imagination either. They cling to his thick thighs and you can see he’s packing down there too.

The sound of a throat clearing catches your attention. You realized you’ve been staring. You look back up to meet that piercing blue gaze and are met with a smirk. “Like the view sweetheart?”

You blush furiously, “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”

“I don’t mind.” Dante has to admit to himself he wasn’t much better than you. While you were staring him down he was doing the exact same thing. But he can hide it a bit better than you can. You have beautiful soft looking hair that fits you perfectly. You’re wearing a simple and comfy outfit but he can still make out the delicious curves of your body.

You clear your throat now, “Um so I just moved in next door and wanted to introduce myself.” You tell him your name, “Here I also made these,” and hand him the box cookies.

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one that has to give house warming gifts not the other way around,” he laughs out. “But thank you. I’m Dante.” He sticks out his hand. You grab his and shake it. His hand basically swallows yours. It is warm and rough, his palm is worn and covered with callouses. Normally the scratchy feeling would irritate you but with him it doesn’t.

Another voice is heard from the shop, “Dante what’s the hold up?” Then a tall blonde girl comes and places an arm on Dante’s shoulder leaning on him. Oh of course, the beautiful man has a girlfriend. You pull your hand from Dante’s and force a smile on your face at the new girl.

Dante can you shrink in on yourself. He quickly shrugs off Trish and gives her a look, “Don’t scare her away.” Trish looks at confused at Dante’s sudden action but then gets the hidden message. She smiles and turns her attention back to you.

“Hi I’m Trish. Dante and I work here together, it’s nice to meet you. So what’s the problem?” She sticks her hand out and you shake hers as well.

Your brows furrow, “Problem?” You look at Dante.

“Yeah. Got a demon he has to take care of?”

Your eyes bulge, “Demon!?”

Dante shoots Trish a nasty glare, “Why would you do that?”

“What do you mean? That’s what this shop is for.”

“Yeah but she was just introducing herself because she moved in next door.” Dante holds up the cookies, “See? She even made cookies to give me.”

Trish flushes with embarrassment, “Oh now this is embarrassing.” She turns to you, “I am so sorry.”

You shake your head, “No it’s okay! But Dante, you’re a demon hunter?”

The trademark smirk makes its way back onto his face. “Yep, the best one around.” He finishes with a wink.

Trish smacks him, “Can you not brag for one second?”

Dante goes to respond but stops due to your laughter. You’re laughing at the scene in front of you. It’s loud but not too obnoxious. It’s soft and he notices after a couple breaths a laughter the pitch goes up for one breath then evens back out. He can tell it’s a true and genuine laugh. He already loves it and knows he wants to make you laugh more.

You finish laughing and see Dante just staring at you. You instantly flush and start apologizing again, “I’m sorry. It was rude to-“

“No you have a pretty laugh. Don’t apologize.” Dante is quick to stop your apology.

“Thank you.” You murmur.

You hear a phone ring back in his shop and Trish turns to him, “Duty call.” She waves a hand to you and walks away to answer the phone.

Dante sighs. You take a couple steps back from him, “I’ll take my leave. See you around Dante.” You give him a little wave and head back to your house.

Dante just whispers while he watches you get home safe. “Yeah see you around.”

•

You’re in the middle of doing dishes when you get a knock at your door. You dry your hands off on a towel and go answer the door. Dante is standing there with a couple boxes of pizza in hand.

“Oh great you’re home! Wanna come have pizza with me and the girls?”

“Sure!” You grab your keys and lock the door and follow Dante. The walk is short but you think about how the two of you have gotten closer these past couple months you’ve lived here.

You were walking home one time from work and ran into Dante who just finished a mission. “Hey what are you doing out here?” He asked.

“I just got out of work so I’m walking home.”

He whistles, “Damn that’s a far walk all by yourself.”

“I’ve gotten use to it,” you shrug it off.

Dante quickly steps in line with you, “I’ll walk you home from now on. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

You wave your hands out in front of you, “You don’t have to! I don’t want to ruin plans or get in your way.”

Dante is quick to grab one of your hands and continues walking, “You’re not ruining anything. I want to do this.”

Since then you and Dante have seen each other everyday for your walk home. You two have grown significantly closer and have learned much about each other. You’ve learned all about his job, past and even how he’s part demon. In return he’s learned all about you. It’s not as crazy and hectic as his but he still listens intently and asks questions.

You and Dante walk into Devil May Cry with a bang or well the door slamming into the wall. You wince at the impact and having the complete opposite reaction to it compared to Dante. Who made it seem like his goal was to slam it as hard as he could to bug Trish and Lady. Lady you met a couple weeks after moving here.

Ironically you met by watching her scold Dante in front of the shop one day when you came back from grocery shopping. You could tell Dante was disinterested in what she was saying. Once he saw you though he smiled and gave you a wave.

You tried to wave but had a hard time because of the heavy groceries in your hands so you opt to just smile. Dante continues to ignore Lady and walks over to you. He slides his hands against yours and grabs the bags from your hands. “Here let me.”

“Thank you!” You then see a hand raise behind his head and smack him hard.

“Hey ouch! What was that for?”

“You don’t just walk up to a random person and take their bags!” Lady scolds.

“She’s my neighbor… you know the one I told you about? The one Trish and I met.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah…” Dante snips back and rubs the back of his head.

Lady turns to you, “Sorry you had to see that. I’m Lady.” She waves at you. You wave back and introduce yourself.

Your new friends sure are interesting but you wouldn’t trade them for the world. “Look who I brought!” Dante steps aside to show you standing behind him.

“Wow we would have never guessed…” Lady says while rolling her eyes.

You laugh at her joke and go to sit on the couch. Trish and Lady are sitting on two old chairs Dante has that are pushed towards the couch. Dante followed behind you and places the pizzas on the table in front of the couch then joins you.

You two are sitting so close that your thighs are touching. Neither of you say anything or move away. You love the warmth radiating off of him, you wish you could be even closer to him and lean in just a bit more.

The four of you dig into the pizza and chat about how the weeks has been for all of you. The talk is basically about demon hunting until they asked you how work was and if there’s any corporate gossip going around your office.

You talk about the latest rumors circling around your office about how the ceo is possibly sleeping with his secretary even though he’s happily married with a child on the way. Or how there is a food snatcher in the office and no one can figure out who it is but some people have guesses and ideas about who it could be.

Even though you are not in the same line of work they always are so interested in what is going on in your life. They never want to make you feel excluded. Even when they tell their own stories if there is something you don’t get or won’t understand they are quick to explain or talk about it to help you. It makes you happy.

You three are listening to Lady right now talking about new weapons she has been trying when you shiver. You’re a bit cold and wish you brought a jacket with you.

Dante leans over then asks, “You cold?”

You rub your hands up and down your arms, “A little but I’m fine.”

Dante doesn’t have it so he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into him. You are now leaning more into him and feel the warmth seeping off of him. You can’t help yourself but lean in more and get more of his warmth.

He leans back down and whispers deeply into your ear, “Better?”

You nod, “Much. Thank you.”

Dante doesn’t say anything but goes back to focus on the conversation going on. But little did you two know, Trish and Lady watched the whole interaction. When you two were adjusting yourselves they looked at each other and gave one another a knowing look. They have to start putting their plan into action.

After the conversation flows a bit more they put their plan into action. Trish stands up and stretches. She then calls out your name, “Do you mind helping me with the dishes?”

Dante leans forwards and answers for you, “No she’s a guest.”

You place a hand on his chest and push him back down, “It’s alright, I’d like to help especially since you guys treated me tonight.” You stand up and start to gather the plates and Trish gathers the other dishes. The two of you head into the kitchen and do the dishes.

You didn’t see Dante pout when you got out of his hold. He’s mad at Trish for taking you away. What was the point of asking you? Just ask Lady and let him have some alone time with you. He finally got to cuddle with you after months of pining now he finally had you. Just for you to be ripped out of his arms.

“Hey Dante.”

He turns to Lady who just called out to him. “There’s this new diner opening up in two days and you should go.”

“Not interested.”

“Sucks to suck because I already told your date you’d be there.”

“WHAT!?” He yells. “What date? I don’t have a date.”

“Well not yet. One of the ladies you saved last week asked me if you were single once I told her yes she asked if I can set you two up.”

“I’m not going.” He says firmly. Dante looks off in the direction of the kitchen to hope he gets a glance of you. If he was going to go on a date he wants it to be with you, not some random girl.

“Too bad you have to.” Lady shrugs, “Told her you would and you can’t back out. It’d hurt your reputation.”

Dante rubs a hand down his face and groans. This is not how he expected his night to go. Finally getting you in his arms then told he has to go on a date with someone else? Yeah this is pure torture.

“Fine just send me the details.” He finally relents. He leans his head back again the couch and looks up at the ceiling. He’s upset but what can he do? Lady smirks to herself and hopes Trish’s side is working well.

You’re washing some plates when Trish bumps her hip into yours. After getting your attention she asks, “You’re single right?”

“Mhm. Why do you ask?”

“A friend of mine wants to go on a date with someone. He’s ready to get back into the dating game after some time off from dating. So I thought I could set you two up.”

You bite your lip, “I’m not sure…”. You look back in the direction of the living room where Dante is. Where you had to leave his warmth and help her. If you’re being honest if you’re going to go on a date you want it to be with Dante. Not some random guy you’ve never met.

“Come on! You’ve been here for months and only know us. Branch out more, get your feet wet.”

You know if you say no she’s just going to keep pressuring you until you say yes. You give up the fight. “I guess. Just send me the details.”

You go back to washing the dishes. You hurry because you just want to go home. You don’t like that you had to agree to that. You want Dante and have since you two have met. But you guess it’s not going to happen. Once you’re finished you head backing into the living room and say you’re going to head home.

Dante is quick onto his feet, “Let me walk you back.”

Not having the heart to decline you just smile lightly and walk out of the shop. Dante could see your smile didn’t reach your eyes. Why are you upset? Did Trish say something to you?

He quickly glares at Trish and holds her hands up in mock surrender. Whatever he’ll deal with this later. He quick catches up to you and walks silently along side you. He hates the silence and that sad look on your face.

Before you can unlock your door he grabs your hand, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing just really tired. It was a long day at work.”

He just nods not believing what you told him. “You know you can talk me right?”

You squeeze his hand, “I know and I’m grateful for that.” Oh how you wished to tell him about the blind date, but your heart won’t be able to handle it. So you just have to push it down.

You release his hand and go to unlock your door again. You smile and wish him a goodnight before sliding into your house. Dante stands there and clenches his fists. He’s mad. He doesn’t like how this night changed so much so fast. He has to figure out how to get you. But first he has to go on this stupid date.

While you two were gone Lady and Trish gave each other a thumbs up. The plan is now in motion. You two will finally get together even if it was a push to get it to happen.

•

You and Dante didn’t talk for the next two days. You were moping around all day Saturday and didn’t get out of bed. You had to force yourself out of bed on Sunday to get ready for the date. You decide to keep it simple with a black skirt and a blouse. You slip on a pair of boots then look at yourself in the mirror. You really hate this. You don’t want to go. But you know Trish will have your head if you don’t go. You sigh and grab your purse and head out.

Dante isn’t fairing much better than you. He’s wanted to go over and check on you but he knows that if he sees you he’s going to slip up and tell you about the date. That is absolutely the last thing he wants to tell you. He saw upset you got the first night when you thought him and Trish were together. Knowing he has to go on a date with someone else would certainly break you. He got looks at the clock and sees it’s time to go.

He goes to get up and head out. Lady slides something in his pocket, “Don’t look at this until you get to the diner!”

“Whatever okay.” He’s over this and doesn’t even want to look at it. He’s not even interested in the piece of paper that was put into his pocket. He’s just wants this over with.

You were told to wait outside for your date. So here you are watching and looking around for a guy to approach you. You know you gotten here early but it feels like this guy is running late. Just great, now you’re going to look weird.

Dante took his time to diner, not really want to spend more time on this date then he has to. He strolls up and sees you standing in front of the restaurant. This makes him light up and he puts a pep in his step now.

While you’re waiting you shift and look in the opposite direction hoping to see your date in the distance. Your back is now facing Dante, so once you feel a tap on your shoulder you think it’s your date. You turn around to see the man you’ve wanted to see for the past two days.

“Dante?”

“Hey.”

You brush some hair out of your face, “Hey. What are you doing here?”

“Oh um,” he scratches the back of his neck, “Lady set me up on a date.”

“Oh…”

“What about you?” He’s quickly counters.

“Trish set me up on a date.”

Dante is confused, why would they both set you up at the same place. Wait unless… he rips the paper out of his pocket and reads it.

Enjoy the date you two! We had to give you two an extra push.

Lady and Trish

“You got to be shitting me.”

“What?” He hands you the paper and you read it. You let out that laugh he’s grown to love so much. He can’t help but laugh along with you.

“Well this makes my day better. Let’s go!” You grab his hand and lead him inside.

You two sit down and order all the different things you want to try. You get one of everything basically so you two can split it and try it. There isn’t much talking besides saying what you two like and don’t like.

You two finish the main meal when a worker comes by and places a piece of strawberry cake on the table, “On the house.” He places two forks on the table and walks off.

“Well it might not be a sundae but a strawberry cake is almost as good.” He digs in with a big bite.

You laugh and take a smaller bite. You smile at the taste. It’s fantastic. “This is so good!”

Dante smiles at you. He then leans over and wipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb. He sits back down and licks his thumb, “You had a bit of icing on your mouth.”

You flush at his actions and let out a meek, “Thank you.”

You two finish the cake quickly and then go to pay. You two walk out of the diner but Dante doesn’t let you get far. He intertwines your hands and leads you back home. The walk is quiet but a good quiet. Neither of you feel like you have to fill the silence. But both parties can tell the other is really happy.

You two reach your house and the both of you turn to face each other. You stare deeply at one another. Not knowing what to say yet you throw yourself into his arms. Dante is quick to wrap his arms around you and pull you close. He shifts you two from foot to foot.

“I had a lot of fun Dante.”

“I did too even if we got set up.”

You giggle, “I guess we should thank those two.”

“Ughhh do we have too? I’ll never hear the end of it.” He whines.

“It’s okay because I’ll be by your side so you won’t have to endure it alone.”

His eyes widens at your comment. He likes the sound of it though. You being at his side. Yeah that sounds really nice. He tilts your head up to have you look at him. You can see desire behind those blue eyes you love. “Can I kiss you?”

Instead of answering you stand on your tip toes and press a quick kiss to his lips. You pull back but Dante stops you and pulls you back up into another kiss. The kiss is full of deep affection and care. You two have wasted enough time and this kiss is putting an end to that. This time you guys aren’t waiting for a push, it’s going to be you and him making the moves.

You two separate needing air. Dante lightens his hold on you so you can lay flat on your feet again. “I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you stare me down when we met.”

You flush once again and hide yourself in his chest. He lets out a deep laugh and runs his hand through your hair. After he finishes laughing his voice becomes more determined, “But I promise you from now on I’m making the moves.”

“I can’t wait to see what you do Dante.”

@the-writer-from-the-void I FINALLY GOT TO YOUR REQUEST MY FRIEND!!! I’m so happy I was your first request ever and I’ve loved this idea since it came into my inbox. Also thank you for being one of the nicest people ever and welcoming me so kindly into the fandom!! I hope you enjoyed this🩵🩵🩵🩵

[daeniradraconis]

Right Where You Left Me

Hey, Lovelies! ✨

Sorry I’m a little late — my Mac decided to quit on me today 😅, and I spent the whole night saving my files. But all is well now! Everything’s backed up, so here’s hoping no more tech issues in the future. 🌙

Before we get into the first chapter of William and Eli’s story, I want to share something fun. For each chapter, I’ve chosen a song that I think fits the mood or foreshadows something ahead. If you play the song while reading (hit play on the video above the text), it can add a little extra layer to the story — sometimes you might even catch a hint of what’s coming next! 🎶

Anyway, here’s the first chapter of William and Eli’s story! I hope you enjoy! 🫶🏼

Themes/Warnings: Hannah Elise Hughes x William Nylander, love at first sight, weddings, pure fluff, mentions of a car crash and injury

Chapter 1: A Promise Under the Stars

June 27, 2014

The sun’s been sitting heavy all afternoon, warm and lazy, the kind of heat that makes the grass smell sweeter. You’re stretched out on the lawn, elbows propped, legs kicked out in front of you, pretending to read Greek and Roman History of Art — a book you’ve read so many times it might as well be your diary. But you’re not really reading. Not today.

Your brothers are at it again.

You don’t even have to look to know what’s happening. Jack’s yelling, Luke’s trying to keep up, and Quinn’s probably rolling his eyes while doing everything better than both of them. The clatter of rollerblades on the driveway, the slap of sticks, the crash of a puck hitting the side of the garage — it’s like background music you never asked for.

You glance up anyway.

Yup. There they are. Jack’s already got his shirt off like he’s playing for the Stanley Cup instead of sweating through another backyard game. Luke’s copying him, all limbs and attitude. And Quinn, steady as always, holding it all together with that calm “old soul” energy he’s had since birth.

You roll your eyes and let out a sigh. Loud enough to be heard if anyone was paying attention.

You love them. You do. Jack, all wild energy and reckless chaos, like a storm that never quite settles. Luke, the baby of the family, all big eyes and easy charm — a golden retriever in human form. And Quinn, the quiet one, steady and serious, with a calm kind of passion that runs deeper than he lets on. They’re your brothers, and they’re home. But some days, it feels like you were dropped into the wrong family by mistake. A Hughes who can’t skate? Blasphemy.

You tried once. You really did. At 11 years old, bundled in gear three sizes too big, wobbling on skates like a baby deer. Quinn held your hands, patient and kind, while Jack chirped from the bench and laughed when you hit the ice face-first. You lasted maybe half an hour before you ripped off the helmet and declared hockey the enemy.

Ellen — your mom — just smiled. “Stick to your books, Eli,” she said, brushing ice shavings off your coat. “That brain of yours will get you further than a slapshot.”

So you did. You built your world out of stories and soil — history textbooks, dog-eared art guides, a garden full of stubborn tomato plants you refuse to give up on, no matter how many times your brothers trample them chasing after a ball.

“Eli! We need a goalie!”

Jack’s voice cuts through the afternoon like a fire alarm. You don’t look up.

“We’re down a man!”

“Don’t care,” you mumble.

“Get over here, nerd!”

Luke. Of course.

You flip a page, even though you’re not reading it. “Yell one more time, and I’m snapping your sticks in half while you sleep.”

Jack snorts. “You’d probably cry if you chipped a nail.”

“I’d cry if I had to live with you forever,” you shoot back, deadpan.

Luke gasps dramatically. “She doesn’t love us.”

“Fix your helmet, Luke,” you add. “It’s halfway off your head, you walking concussion.”

From the garage, Quinn’s voice cuts in, flat and amused. “Jack, you couldn’t score on an empty net. Luke, stop trying to be Jack. And Eli, please don’t murder them before dinner.”

You smile. Just a little.

Quinn’s always been the balance. The one who sees you when you go quiet, the one who reads the room without needing a single word. Maybe it’s because you’re closest in age, or maybe it’s just the way he sees the world, but you’ve always felt closest to him. Like he just gets it — gets you — in a way the others don’t.

Still, it’s exhausting sometimes. Being the only one who doesn’t speak “sports.” Like you’re a guest in your own home.

You pull your knees up, rest your book against them, and stare out at the garden. Your basil looks droopy. One of the tomato cages is crooked. You think about moving it, but—

The sound of tires crunching gravel stops you.

You look up.

Your dad’s car is pulling into the driveway, and for a second, everything feels normal. You expect him to step out, maybe toss Luke a water bottle, ask if Jack’s broken anything today.

But then the passenger door opens.

And someone else gets out first.

He’s tall. Really tall. His golden blonde hair almost looks white under the sun, and his eyes — blue, clear, like the ocean on a perfect day. There’s something about the way he walks, the smooth confidence in his stride, that catches your breath. He looks… different. Like he stepped out of a storybook. Like the version of Prince Charming no one told you actually existed. And for a second, you honestly wonder if you’ve just imagined him.

He glances around, and then — he sees you.

Just for a second. A flicker of a glance. But it hits like a lightning strike.

You forget the book in your lap. You forget the sun on your shoulders. All you can think is: Oh.

Your heart, which was perfectly fine a minute ago, starts doing something weird. Like it’s trying to crawl up into your throat.

“Kids!” your dad calls out. “Come say hello! This is William Nylander. He just got drafted, and he’s staying with us for a bit while he settles in.”

The name clicks, vaguely. Hockey. Leafs. But honestly, your brain is busy with other things.

Like the way William is walking toward you, easy and sure, hands tucked in his pockets. Like he’s stepping straight into your daydream and bringing it to life.

Jack drops his stick. “No way! He’s a Leaf?! That’s so sick!”

Luke’s already bouncing. “Wait, like on the team team?!”

William laughs — soft, polite, a little bashful. But his eyes haven’t left yours.

And then, he stops in front of you. You.

He flashes a grin — just crooked enough to feel dangerous.

“Hi,” he says, voice low and smooth. “I’m William.”

He says it like it’s obvious. Like of course that’s who he is. And maybe it should be — with that smile, that hair, that confidence like he already knows you’re staring.

Your stomach flips so hard it might do a full somersault. Words? Gone. Logic? Useless. All you can think about is how warm your face feels and how suddenly awkward your hands are, just sitting there like they forgot how to be hands.

You manage to squeak out, “Hi.”

It’s quiet. Too quiet. You sound like someone just rewound your whole personality and left it on mute.

He looks amused. Not in a mean way — in a charming, "this is cute" kind of way. Like he knows exactly the effect he’s having on you.

Your dad’s saying something — something about him staying here for a couple of weeks until his apartment’s ready. But it’s background noise now.

He’s going to be living here.

With you.

You’re pretty sure your soul just left your body.

You glance up again, and he’s still looking at you, still smiling, like this is all some kind of inside joke he hasn’t let you in on yet.

And that’s when it hits you. You’re in trouble. Like... real trouble.

Because this isn’t just a crush. Not even close.

You're in love.

And he hasn’t even made it through the front door.

—

The next two weeks are a blur. Not in a busy, chaotic way, but in a dreamlike, everything-is-new kind of way. William’s presence feels like an added layer to everything you’ve known. He’s in your house, under your roof, sharing your space, and it’s almost surreal how easily he slips into your world.

He’s still the same charming, confident guy from that first moment. He talks with that easy, magnetic confidence that makes everyone gravitate toward him. But what surprises you the most is how he makes space for you in the midst of it all.

Every morning, he’s in the kitchen, making coffee, and when you shuffle in — hair a mess, sleep still heavy in your eyes — he’s always there with a quiet “Good morning,” and that crooked, too-perfect-for-him smile. It’s like he knows exactly how to make you feel like the only person in the room, even if Jack’s already rambling about his latest skateboarding tricks and Luke’s stuffing his face with cereal. William doesn’t mind. He just listens. Really listens, in a way that makes you feel like you could tell him anything.

And you find yourself telling him things. Little things. 

Like how you started gardening because it felt like the only thing that could grow in the chaos of your family. How Ellen once tried to teach you to skate and you cried on the ice. How you’ve read Greek and Roman History of Art so many times it’s basically your second language. How you despise salted caramel with such passion that you believe its fans deserve a short, contemplative exile in purgatory.

He doesn’t laugh. He just nods like it’s all valuable information.

“You really like art, huh?” he asks one night on the porch.

It’s late — one of those velvet-sky summer nights where time slows. You’re in your usual spot, knees pulled to your chest, hoodie sleeves over your hands. He’s next to you, hoodie half-zipped, legs stretched out, hair still damp from his shower. He smells like clean soap and warm skin.

You nod. “It’s not just that I like art. I love it. And not just paintings — I mean the whole thing. Art history. Architecture. The stories built into stone.”

He glances over, intrigued. You go on before you can stop yourself.

“I read about the Pantheon when I was thirteen. This giant, ancient Roman temple in the middle of the city — still standing. I’ve never even been to Rome, but the pictures? Unreal. The dome is a perfect hemisphere — same diameter as its height. They built it without modern tools, and no one even knows exactly how. The concrete they used? Still hasn’t cracked. The oculus — that giant hole in the roof — it’s open to the sky. Rain falls right through it. But the floor is sloped, with invisible drains, so the water just disappears.”

You pause, but he’s still looking at you, listening.

“It’s not just architecture. It’s—” You shake your head, smiling a little. “It’s art. The kind that makes your chest feel too full. It was built to honor all the gods, but they made it feel like it could touch the universe. Like they wanted to bring the heavens into reach.”

You hug your knees tighter. “And it’s still there. People walk into it every day. Into something made almost two thousand years ago. You can feel the history pressing in around you. It’s like standing in a heartbeat that never stopped.”

William is quiet for a long moment.“That’s… amazing.”

You laugh a little, embarrassed. “Sorry. I get carried away.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I think it’s incredible that you care about something that deeply.”

You glance over, unsure. But he’s smiling — that quiet, thoughtful smile he doesn’t give out easily.

“I think that’s what art’s supposed to do,” he says. “Make you feel something you can’t really explain. Even if it’s just a building or a painting. Doesn’t matter. If it moves you, it matters.”

You blink. That’s… not what you expected. William Nylander — hockey guy, professional athlete, and also someone who actually gets art? 

“You’re full of surprises,” you murmur.

He smiles, sensing your surprise. "What? You didn’t think I was all hockey, did you?"

“I mean… kind of.”

“Wow,” he says, mock-offended. “I’m layered, Eli. Deeply complex.”

You laugh, but it sticks in your chest, warm. Because somehow, it’s true — he’s funny, confident, ridiculous… and he sees you. Not as one of the Hughes siblings. Not as the quiet one. Just…you.

That’s how you end up here. Most nights, side by side on the porch while the house buzzes behind you.

Tonight is no different — quiet air, cicadas in the trees, stars overhead like someone scattered glitter across navy velvet. Your bare toes brush his knee by accident, but he doesn’t move.

You look over. He’s fiddling with the cap on his water bottle, uncharacteristically quiet. The kind of silence that makes you want to fill it with something soft.

“I always wanted a dog,” you say.

He turns, eyebrows raised slightly. “Yeah?”

“Since I was five. Every birthday, every Christmas. I begged. Once I even made a Power Point on why a dog would help with my emotional development.” You snort. “Didn’t work.”

“What’d they say?”

“That I already had three brothers and that was enough chaos for one household.”

He laughs — that warm, low sound that always makes your stomach twist. “Fair. But brutal.”

You smile, leaning your head back. “I even had this whole Pinterest board. His name was going to be Pablo. He’d wear a little bandana and sleep at the foot of my bed.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Pablo? That’s kinda badass. Like a mob boss or something.”

You giggle, nudging him lightly. “Exactly! Super manly, right?”

William hums like he’s really considering it. “I’ll get you one.”

You blink. “What?”

“When I get my place. You move in. I’ll get you a dog.”

You snort a laugh, but your face feels suddenly way too warm. “William. I’m seventeen.”

He smirks. “So? It doesn’t have to be today. Just… someday. I mean—” he stretches his arms over his head, all long limbs and relaxed confidence “—I’m just saying, I could see it. Me, you, a golden retriever with too much energy. Maybe a garden. I’d build you a whole greenhouse if you wanted.”

You laugh again, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

He leans in closer, just enough that you feel the heat of him, his voice suddenly lower, teasing. “Nah. I’m serious. I think you’d look really cute walking a dog in one of those oversized sweaters. Maybe wearing my hoodie. Nothing underneath.”

“William.” You choke on a laugh, heat crawling up your neck.

He grins like he’s just scored a goal in overtime. “What? I’m a romantic.”

“You’re a menace.”

“And yet,” he says, leaning in just slightly, “you’re still sitting right here.”

You roll your eyes, but your pulse is loud in your ears. The porch feels smaller, the air charged.

He shifts closer. Not suddenly — slowly, deliberately — like he’s checking to see if you’ll stop him.

You don’t.

His hand lifts, brushing a piece of hair from your cheek. But it’s not just a gesture. It’s careful. Intentional. His fingertips graze your skin like he’s memorizing it, like this moment matters. And maybe it does. Maybe it always has.

You can’t think. Can’t move. The world narrows to the space between you — to the heat pulsing there, to the way your lungs forget how to work.

“I meant it,” he says softly, his voice a low thrum against the quiet night. “I’d get you that dog. Or anything you wanted.”

You look up at him — and this time, you don’t look away. Your voice is barely a breath.

“I just want you to kiss me.”

And then everything shifts.

He leans in — slowly, like he’s giving you every second to change your mind. But you don’t. You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. And then his lips are on yours.

It’s not fireworks. It’s not chaos.

It’s warm.

Soft at first — almost hesitant, like he’s learning the shape of you, tasting the moment. His lips are tender, sure, and it’s careful — not rushed, not greedy, but full of something deeper. Something real. The kind of kiss that makes time slow down, stretch thin. Like your heartbeat just synced to his.

You breathe him in — soap, skin, sun-warmed cotton — and everything else disappears. No porch. No summer night. Just the quiet pull of it, of him, of this thing you didn’t see coming but somehow always knew was meant to happen.

His hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers tangling gently in your hair. You melt — literally melt — into him, into that touch, into that kiss, like your body finally understands what safe feels like.

When he finally pulls back, it’s just an inch — enough for his eyes to settle on yours, lingering, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail. His thumb strokes your cheek, slow and deliberate, like he's tracing the very shape of you in his mind.

His gaze dips to your lips, his voice low, thick with something that makes your pulse race.

“Your dad’s probably going to kill me, you know that, right?”

You laugh softly, the sound escaping with more ease than you expected. You shake your head, the playful glint in your eyes never fading. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m his favorite. I’ll handle him. Just…don’t break my heart, okay?”

For a beat, his smile falters, just a fraction, before his eyes soften with an intensity that makes your heart skip. He leans in, his breath warming your lips, and for a moment, the world goes still.

“Never,” he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper, just before his lips brush against yours again — slow, gentle, as if he’s savoring the very moment, the very feeling of you against him.

—

The August sun spills gold across the edges of the white tent strung with fairy lights and swaying eucalyptus garlands. Toronto’s late-summer air hums warm and bright, the breeze from the lake brushing against the skin like a soft kiss. Laughter rises from the open bar, mingling with the clinking of glasses and the soft murmur of conversation. The light is honeyed, slow — the kind that wraps itself around memories, preserving them in warmth and shimmer, like a pressed flower between the pages of a well-loved book.

You’re dancing.

Barefoot now — your heels long since abandoned under the table — you move slowly in William’s arms, your wedding dress whispering around your legs with every step. His hands are gentle at your waist, your palms resting over the slow thrum of his heartbeat beneath the crisp collar of his shirt. His jacket is off, tie loose, hair a little messy. And still, he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

The world fades. It’s just him, you, and the music curling softly through the late summer air.

And you can’t stop smiling.

You let your eyes sweep across the crowd — the blur of people clapping, slow-dancing, talking over champagne and cake. Familiar faces beam back at you. Jack is on the dance floor, leaning in a little too close to one of William's cousins, flashing a grin that says I’m about to charm you out of your penties — and she’s laughing, probably rolling her eyes, but clearly amused. Quinn, a little too tipsy, is dancing with your mom like he's auditioning for Dancing with the Stars, spinning her around with moves you didn’t know he had. Your mom's laughing, loving every second, teasing him about how he's killing it. Meanwhile, Luke’s found Banksy. The two of them are tucked in a corner, and you swear Luke’s sneaking him bites of something he shouldn’t be eating — probably pastry crumbs. Banksy looks up at him, wide-eyed, like he’s in on the secret. Luke’s giving him a soft smile, whispering to the dog like they’re plotting something together. It’s one of those moments that makes you laugh because Luke’s too pure for his own good.

And then there’s William’s side — Michael, laughing over drinks with your father like they’ve known each other forever, probably arguing over hockey plays and statistics. Catherine, poised and glowing in a soft sea-blue dress, watches you both with misty eyes and a smile that says she always knew her boy would find this kind of love.

His sisters — Michelle, Jacqueline, Stephanie, and little Ella — are huddled near the dance floor, swaying and giggling, clutching glasses of something sparkling and non-alcoholic for the youngest. Ella looks especially radiant. She's grown so much, but you still remember the quiet, sweet girl who lived with you and William for a while, who left tiny mugs half full of tea all over the apartment and asked you questions about plants like you were a walking encyclopedia. She studies in Toronto now, living in her own dorm, but she never stopped feeling like your little shadow. Your heart squeezes at the thought.

And then there’s Alex — standing near the dessert table, deep in conversation with Auston and Mitch, probably trying to talk them into some ridiculous offseason challenge. He loves those. He was your temporary roommate, too — shared takeout dinners and hockey talk on the balcony, late-night dishwasher debates and all. He winks when he catches you looking and lifts his glass in a silent, smiling toast.

It hits you slowly — not like a wave, but like sunlight through a window. Quiet. Warm. Certain.

This is your life now.

Not just his, not just yours — but something you built together. Layer by layer. A life that started on a quiet porch, with a kiss under the stars when you were seventeen and trembling and unsure. A kiss that said, I see you. A promise he never stopped keeping.

When William moved out to play for the Marlies, it wasn’t far — just across the city, but it felt like the start of something new for both of you. A few months later, you started your degree in Environmental Science at the University of Toronto, throwing yourself into early mornings and long lectures, lab reports and field work. Your days were full of discovery; your nights, often spent curled up in his apartment, surrounded by textbooks and half-eaten takeout, with him brewing you tea and soft music humming low in the background. He never made you feel like you were chasing your dreams alone. He was there — not just beside you, but behind you, making space for your ambition and cheering it on like it was his own.

Then came the day your family packed up and moved back to Michigan. You still remember standing in the driveway, watching them go, feeling a crack form right in the center of your chest. But your parents saw it — the way William looked at you like you were the only thing that made sense in the world. The way you spoke about your classes, your city, your life here. You had already started putting down roots.

And somehow, they understood.

You stayed behind.

Not out of rebellion. Not out of stubbornness. But because your heart had already chosen a home. And he was here.

So, you and William moved in together — and he made good on another promise. Just a few months later, Pablo came bounding into your life. Curly-haired, floppy-eared, endlessly sweet. He slept at the foot of your bed and carried around his stuffed pig like it was his life’s purpose. A year later, chaos arrived in the form of Banksy — pure mischief and boundless energy, a lovable menace with paws too big for his body.

Somehow, the two of you built a life — dogs and houseplants and a garden that spilled from the balcony like your own little jungle. William, who kissed you every morning like it was the first time. William, who never once made you feel like you were orbiting his world — because you had created one together.

And then, 2019 arrived. It was Christmas Eve — your favorite night of the year. Lights strung across the living room, cinnamon in the air, your mom crying before anything had even happened — you swear she knew. William cleared his throat and then — of course — launched into a speech. Classic Willy: heartfelt, a little cocky, and so completely sincere it made your knees weak.

He turned to Jim first, asked for his blessing like a man raised right. And Jim — naturally — acted all serious and intimidating… before pulling William into a hug so hard you thought he might break a rib. Your mom sobbed so intensely she forgot to record the moment — something she still brings up every single Christmas, like it’s your fault she was too busy crying to press the red button.

Jack wasted no time. “Biggest simp I’ve ever seen,” he declared loudly, shaking his head, but grinning so sweetly at you. 

Quinn just smiled. Then, without a word, hugged William like he was his own brother. When he finally pulled back, he said, “It always felt like you were part of this family… but now it’s official.” You think William nearly cried at that part, though he’ll never admit it.

And Luke — sweet, sentimental Luke — tried to play it cool. But the moment the ring box opened, his chin wobbled. He stood up clapping and wiping his face with his sleeve at the same time. Of course, Jack immediately took a picture of Luke crying and has printed it every year since to hang as an ornament on the tree. “The emotional support elf,” he calls it.

That was the moment everything shifted — not just for you and William, but for all of them, too.

They saw what he meant to you. What you meant to each other.

And now, here you are.

Married. His wife. Barefoot under a Toronto August sky, the sun sinking low over the lake, the air thick with roses and summer and laughter.

And through all of it, William watches you like he still can’t believe you’re real. Like he’s still that boy on the porch, blinking stars out of his eyes, wondering how the hell he got lucky enough to end up here — with you.

“You okay?” William murmurs against your temple, his breath warm, his lips brushing your skin.

You nod, your voice thick with emotion. “Better than okay.”

His fingers shift slightly at your waist, pulling you just a bit closer. “You were worth every second of waiting.”

You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze. “You kept every promise.”

He grins, that soft, crooked smile that undid you back then — that still undoes you now. “Told you I’m a romantic.”

“Yes, you are. I’m a pretty lucky lady,” you tease, eyes glinting.

His hand brushes along your spine, and suddenly, you’re both laughing quietly, breathing each other in. It’s strange, really — how something can feel brand new and completely familiar all at once. How love, real love, doesn’t feel like butterflies. It feels like sunlight — constant and warm and always finding its way back to you.

A microphone crackles, and then a voice rings out — someone from the band, smiling into the mic.

“Alright, everyone, if we could have your attention—our bride and groom are about to head out for their honeymoon! Let’s give them all the love they deserve!”

The room erupts in cheers, whistles and applause. Champagne is lifted. Glasses clink. You blink back the sudden blur in your eyes as William leans down to whisper against your ear:

“You ready to go, Mrs. Nylander?”

You laugh — a bubbling, joy-soaked sound as you nod. “With you? Always.”

And as you walk hand in hand through the crowd, showered in petals and love and laughter, you look back once — just once — at the people who built you, held you, shaped this life. And then you look forward.

—

The doors of the car close behind you with a soft thud, and suddenly, the world feels quieter. The buzz of the reception is replaced by the sound of the engine, the warm night air drifting in through the cracked window. William’s hand finds yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in the way they always do — familiar, steady, grounding you.

He starts the car, and as you pull away from the venue, the streets of Toronto slipping by in a blur, you glance over at him. His eyes are still full of that joy, that soft, warm look that has been there since the moment he slipped the ring on your finger. There’s a relaxed, almost goofy grin on his face, the kind that only comes after a long, perfect day.

You turn the radio dial, and suddenly, the opening chords of “Take Me Home, Country Roads” fill the car. It’s the very song you and your brother used to sing at the top of your lungs on long summer road trips. A surge of excitement hits you, and you can’t help but start belting it out, loud and carefree, your voice rising with every word.

“Almost heaven, West Virginia…”

William glances over, his eyebrows lifting in mock horror. “Oh, no,” he laughs, shaking his head. “Not this song.”

You don’t stop. “Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River…” Your voice is full of energy, all the joy and excitement of the day flooding out of you in the form of music.

William laughs beside you, one hand on the wheel, his hair still a little messy from the dancing. “You’re unbelievable,” he says, grinning. “I marry you and now I’m stuck with a country music soundtrack for life.”

“Oh, come on, it’s a classic!” you tease, singing louder, not even trying to stay on key anymore. “You just don’t get it.”

William gives a dramatic sigh, shaking his head with a grin. “No, I definitely don’t. I never understood how anyone could love country music this much.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. “Take me home, country roads…” you sing, your voice rising with the chorus, throwing your head back as you belt it out, carefree and happy.

He watches you for a moment, shaking his head but clearly entertained. “Okay, okay,” he finally says, the teasing in his voice softening. “I get it, you’re killing it. But I still don’t get the appeal.”

You grin, leaning over to nudge him playfully. “You’ll come around one day,” you tease, eyes sparkling.

The song continues, and you sing your heart out, your joy filling the car. It feels right — this moment, this life, this love — everything wrapped up in the sound of a song that’s been a part of you forever.

William starts laughing softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as you hit the high notes with all the conviction of a true country fan. “I don’t know how you do it,” he says, still chuckling.

You’re lost in the song now, the road stretching ahead of you, the glow from the dashboard casting a soft light on William’s face. His focus is on the road, but every so often, his smile flickers as he glances at you.

You throw your head back, still singing — louder now, on purpose. “To the place I belong…”

He shakes his head, but he’s smiling.

Then it happens.

A flash of headlights.

A horn blares.

The scream of tires on pavement.

Metal.

The impact slams through you like a punch. Your body jerks, flung forward and snapped back by the seatbelt. The airbag explodes, the sound impossibly loud — like a bomb detonating in your ears.

You can’t see.

You can’t breathe.

You hear glass shatter, the car twisting, spinning — and then stillness.

Pain hits you all at once, hot and sharp — blooming in your ribs, your shoulder, your head. Your vision sways like a curtain of water. You try to move, try to sit up, to find William, but your limbs feel heavy, unreachable.

You hear him.

Faint, but frantic.

“Elise—”

You try to answer. Your lips part, but nothing comes out. You want to reach for him. You want to tell him you’re okay, or ask if he is — but everything is fog.

His voice grows sharper, full of panic.

“Elise! Elise, stay with me! Please—”

You try. God, you try.

But the pain grows thick and distant, your head lolling as the dark swallows the edges of your sight. The world fades — his voice, the night, the music — all pulling away like waves retreating from shore.

And then—

Nothing.

Just black.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

After reading your comments now I'm even more excited to read the epilogue!

She's a real sweetheart, right? Writing someone who wants to work with little kids, I wanted to write a young woman who isn't without her flaws, but really embodied that kind, nurturing nature that makes for great elementary school teachers. 💗 (And the kind of inner goodness that I think Dean would find endearing too.)

I love hunter!readers, but the soft!readers really have my heart. Not that a hunter!reader couldn't be soft per say, but I just love how cutesy she is.

Buuuuut maybe he should've asked Dean if it was really ok if he pursued the reader before he stepped in. Maybe as his friend, he should've asked Dean what the hell he was doing with Lisa when the reader really needed him right now lol. Maybe that would've been the wake-up call Dean needed to get his shit together and realize he didn't really truly love Lisa. 🤔

You're so right. Benny should have asked more questions!! Benny should have had the talk with Dean and if he is Dean's best friend he should have known. It kinda makes it sadder though. But I'll bet the epilogue kinda explains that a bit too 🥰 But at the same time yes, Benny was a good guy for stepping up and stepping in.

Ahaha yes!! I knew you would catch that! Oh yeah, but that's the kind of mistake a man not used to little kids would make, I feel like 🤣

It really is. I bet that Ben/Soldier Boy would let his kid watch something too soon and then live with the consequences when he can't have sex with the reader for a month because the kid sleeps in the bed with them 🤣

I knowwww I'm sorry I almost killed Dean, but this is the first of many wake-up calls for both Dean and reader. 😭😭

Don't be sorry, near-death experiences that make people realize they love one another is the kind of angst I live for LOL

I tried to do something different with this story and make it feel more realistic, with no real "villain," except that we can hurt the people we love the most unintentionally with our actions and inaction. What we say, and sometimes more importantly, what we don't say.

It really was wonderfully realistic- all the emotions all the drama, it was beautiful! I also think that it resonates more that way- making it about the internal and external struggle with relationships rather than some big-bad to fight. Because sometimes the big-bad is the little voice inside that makes you push everything down or sometimes the big-bad is you? If that makes sense lol.

Oh you saw that, huh? 😂 Yeah, I think you remember that turned into a fun "anonymous" ask in my inbox asking why I was so "defensive" when people criticized my work. I typically have thick skin and was ready to forget the comments entirely, but when that "ask" came in it really annoyed me, not gonna lie. lol I probably should've just ignored the inbox message and deleted it, rather than spend more time and energy on replying to someone whose mind likely isn't going to be changed on how they talk to writers, regardless. 😂 I get that this AU story was "different," and messy with these relationships, but that was kind of the point. Bless you though for your thoughtful and heartwarming feedback regarding the Lisa and Benny storylines! 💗💗💗

Yeah, I'm pretty sure that happened when I was in my two weeks off period 😅 But I don't think it's so much as you not having 'thick skin' or being 'defensive'- I see it more as you being open to the criticism, but them not giving you anything constructive. If someone says 'oh that's stupid' but then don't tell you why, it becomes more about the writer than what they wrote.

But oh yeah no. The fact that they felt the need to also send in an ask criticizing you even more is just uncalled for. I don't blame you for answering it, it would have annoyed me too- especially because lately I feel like the meaner anons think they're helping writers by being super rude?

Yes exactly! The AU is "different!" It's more about the relationships and drama and miscommunication! (slightly mad at you for that last one jkjk 🤣) AU's are supposed to be different, that's literally it- alternate universe. Which is why they didn't like it, because they didn't understand it. 😬

But you're welcome! I really did enjoy it and I'll bet the epilogue is going to be amazing! 💗

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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[luvbabydoll]

soft target — john price

a/n: here is part one

the school’s quiet now.

the sun’s low, painting everything gold, and you’re locking your classroom door with tired hands and a cardigan pulled tight around your shoulders. the same sundress underneath, just a little more wrinkled now. your flats scuff softly on the pavement as you head toward the bus stop, bag slipping from your shoulder.

and then—

“bit late for the bus, isn’t it, love?”

you freeze.

he’s leaned against a dark car at the curb, sleeves still rolled, cap tilted back slightly. cigar in one hand, half-burned and glowing faint. he looks like he’s been there for a while. watching.

waiting.

you clear your throat. “i’m fine. it’s only a few minutes.”

he hums. takes a drag.

“not safe out here. bus stop’s full of pissheads after five.”

you blink. “i take it every day.”

he exhales smoke slowly, like the words amuse him.

“not dressed like that, you don’t.”

your fingers tighten on your cardigan.

“what’s that mean?”

he flicks the ash off the tip of the cigar, then gives you that slow, maddening once-over.

“floaty little thing like you? sweet voice, soft shoes, not a clue how many blokes’d follow you just to see where you get off.”

you shift on your feet.

“i manage just fine.”

“‘course you do, sweetheart,” he drawls, tone all condescension and heat. “still doesn’t mean you should be out here on your own.”

he nods at the car behind him.

“come on. i’ll drive you.”

you shake your head. “i don’t need—”

“wasn’t askin’.”

the words are quiet. firm. but not unkind. not really.

more like... decided.

you hesitate. bite your lip. you shouldn’t. god, you know you shouldn’t.

but then he opens the door for you, like he already knows you’ll say yes.

“it’s not charity, love,” he adds, almost mockingly. “just not lettin’ a pretty thing like you end up on the evening news.”

your heart hammers.

you get in.

the leather’s cool. smells faintly like him. like cigar smoke and expensive soap.

he walks around the front, slow and unbothered, flicks the cigar into the street with a practiced hand, then slides in beside you and starts the engine.

no music. no small talk at first. just the low purr of the car and the weight of his gaze at red lights.

until finally, he says it.

“didn’t peg you for the bus type.”

you glance at him. “i’m a teacher. not exactly glamorous.”

he scoffs. “could’ve fooled me.”

you blink.

“look like you belong in one of those soft little perfume ads,” he mutters. “all lips and lashes. s’no wonder your class won’t shut up.”

you don’t answer.

his fingers tap the wheel lazily. “bet they’ve all got crushes. boys like that—doesn’t take much. just a smile and a dress.”

“i don’t flirt with my students.”

he smirks.

“never said you did. just said you don’t have to.”

you look out the window. cheeks hot.

“you always talk to teachers like this?” you murmur.

he doesn’t hesitate.

“only the pretty ones.”

the drive is quiet again. only this time there’s music.

not loud—just a low hum from the speakers, something gritty and slow and old. a man’s voice, raspy, drawling about whiskey and war. you don’t recognise it, but you don’t ask either. you figure he already knows that.

he doesn’t look at you while it plays. just taps the wheel in time, lip twitching like he’s in on a joke you’re too young to get.

“not your kind of music, is it?” he says finally, eyes still on the road.

“no,” you admit softly.

he chuckles.

“didn’t think so. you’re more of a... sugar-pop sort, yeah? all pink headphones and love songs?”

you bristle, but only a little. “i listen to plenty of things.”

“mm,” he says, unconvinced. “you ever even heard of tom waits?”

“well… no.”

“figured,” he smirks.

by the time he pulls up outside your apartment, the sun’s almost gone. your building looks worse in this light—weathered and crooked, like it’s sighing from holding itself up.

he looks at it, then at your shoes.

“you live here?”

“...yeah.”

he lets out a breath through his nose. not rude—just surprised.

“jesus, sweetheart. i knew teachers weren’t paid well, but jesus lovie.”

you slide your bag onto your shoulder, already reaching for the handle.

“thanks for the ride.”

but he’s already out of the car.

before you can step out, he’s opening your door for you again—holding out a hand like you’re stepping onto a yacht and not cracked pavement.

you blink up at him.

“i can walk.”

“not in those dainty little things,” he mutters. “look at the state of this lot.”

and then—god—he lifts you.

just like that. arms around your thighs and back, bridal-style, all warm and solid and smug.

“john!” you squeak, clutching his shoulders.

“don’t fuss,” he says, carrying you like you weigh nothing. “not lettin’ you ruin those shoes on my watch.”

you want to argue. you really do.

but then you’re at your door and he doesn’t put you down. not right away.

“keys?” he asks, eyes flicking toward your purse.

you fumble, unlock it with shaking hands.

and instead of handing you over the threshold, like a normal person—

he steps inside.

like he’s invited.

like this is his now.

you’re still in his arms when he glances around.

“cozy,” he says again, same tone as in your classroom.

his voice is quieter here. thicker.

you try to wiggle down. he finally lets you go, setting you gently on the floor like a toy being placed back on the shelf.

you smooth your dress. try to fix your face.

“you didn’t have to come in.”

“wasn’t gonna leave you out there in the dark,” he shrugs, looking at your tiny kitchenette, the stack of books near the couch. “besides, didn’t get my proper tour earlier.”

you give him a look. “this isn’t a tour.”

“sure it is,” he says, moving to lean against your counter like he’s done it a hundred times. “i’ve seen your classroom. now i’m seein’ where you keep your soft little cardigans.”

you cross your arms.

“you’re very confident.”

he grins.

“and you’re very polite for someone lettin’ a stranger into her flat.”

you hesitate. “you’re not a stranger.”

“aren’t i?”

he steps a little closer. your back almost hits the wall.

you don’t answer.

he smiles, slow.

“you should eat somethin’, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

you blink.

“you don’t have to—”

“i know i don’t,” he cuts in gently, brushing a bit of lint from your sleeve like he’s done it before. “but i want to.”

“why?”

“dunno,” he shrugs. “maybe i like takin’ care of soft little things.”

[daosies]

in the silence

akademiya days | this piece is part of the spring & swag event!!

You fall asleep in the library; Alhaitham doesn't wake you up; love ensues.

alhaitham ♡ gn!reader

warnings: alhaitham is SMITTEN, use of "[name]", physical description of reader (ex: moles, scars, etc.), pre-established relationship

notes: banter my beloved

“I won’t wake you up if you fall asleep,” Alhaitham states blankly, his eyes never once tearing from the pages of his book.

“Really?” You yawn. “Even if the Grand Sage came in right now and told everyone that if they were conscious, he’d give them a graduation certificate?” 

“Even if the Grand Sage came in right now and told everyone that if they were conscious, he’d give them a graduation certificate,” Alhaitham repeats without a second thought. “And I’d be leaving with mine.” 

“Oh, you traitorous scum.” 

“Sleep.” 

“Even when you’re not gonna wake me up?”

Alhaitham doesn’t even spare you a glance. You take the silence as affirmation, and even though you think you’re supposed to be offended, you don’t have any energy left in you to fight a losing battle against a man who got a full eight hours of sleep. 

So, you fold your arms over each other and you tuck in for the night, the side of your head buried into the fabric of your uniform sleeves, breathing in the scent of the wooden library table. 

“Night,” you mumble.

“It’s morning,” Alhaitham replies.

You don’t respond. He closes his book. Turquoise eyes drink in the sight of your face greedily, compensating for all the time lost sinking in pages when, since the beginning, all they have ever wanted was to drown in you. They’re out, Alhaitham thinks—not like a light, because still, you glow—already? 

He doesn’t pay any mind to the clock, its rhythmic ticking falling behind the pace of his heart, the organ which beats, alive and wild in comparison to the hand of time which, although pervading, has never once perceived you. If it did, Alhaitham thinks that time would speed up, that it would leave everything behind, that you would wake up and find yourself in the future. Beyond him.

He stares at you (but he has always been staring at you?), insatiable. Alhaitham is greedy. Alhaitham’s gaze traces over your existence once, twice, before starting again. 

As if he were rediscovering a relic, as if he had buried it eons earlier and dug it up once more, his hand fluttering across all its patterns, its weathered material, discovering new intricacies and features—a mole, a scar—and loving them again, all the same, each and every time. 

From the flutter of your lashes to the pout of your lips, your image sinks into his retinas, never to be reflected in his irises as you have driven long past the color, diving straight towards his soul. Absorbed. Whole. You glow. You glow!

“Huh? Alhaitham?” someone calls, and Alhaitham’s brief—but, really, it was not so brief; he had been staring for the past five minutes—solace is interrupted, his drowning eyes narrowing with distaste before he wills his mental fortitude to deal with this sudden obstacle. Kaveh. 

Alhaitham doesn’t respond. 

“Alhaitham, I know you can hear me.” 

“Now, what gave you that idea?” 

Kaveh sneaks a glance at you (which doesn’t go unnoticed by Alhaitham), before turning his head away, trying his very best to contain the essence of a smile wisping across his face (which doesn’t go unnoticed by Alhaitham). 

“Just a hunch,” Kaveh says with a shrug. 

Alhaitham doesn’t respond. 

“Can you let me know when they wake up? I need some of their input on this new design I came up with,” Kaveh asks, gesturing towards a scroll of paper which folds from his hand. 

Alhaitham doesn’t respond; not only that, though, because he also makes an effort to look away from the architect. 

“I’m not waking them up.” Even if the Grand Sage himself were to enter the library and tell everyone that he’d give them their graduation certificates if they were conscious. Even though Alhaitham himself told you to sleep. 

Kaveh scoffs. “You’re terrible.” 

Alhaitham doesn’t respond. Kaveh takes his silence with an offended scoff (again), before grumbling away with his scroll clutched tightly to his chest. Alhaitham stares at you (but he has always been staring at you?), his gaze finding their face on your features, and the relic is found. 

A mole. A scar. A glow.

Someone else enters the library, frantic, their voice diminished to a whisper-yell: “[Name]? [Name]! Is [Name] here? I need their notes!”

His fingers come to unclasp his ear pieces (which were, as they always are in your presence, turned off), deftly hooking them over yours. You stir a little, but Alhaitham doesn’t mind; you never notice when he does this, anyway. Whenever you sleep, you’re truly knocked out.

(He has done this, time and time again. Like how the relic is buried only to be rediscovered again. Like how the light is flickered off only to be turned on again. Like how his gaze finds you, time and time again, only to trace over familiar features and new ones alike, and, ultimately, learn and love, again and again.)

“They’re not here?!” the person continues to whisper-yell. “I need their notes! I’m going to fail! Oh, the agony!”

Alhaitham is terrible. 

He looks at you. 

A mole. A scar. A glow. 

Alhaitham is terrible; he’s okay with that.

[writeformesinpie]

🙈 thoughts on Enhypen? get crazy with it thou 😋

This guy. This dude! He’s a snake. He is into some pretty kinky shit. Heeseung is a Dom. He will not budge. Not even a little. You are his and he is the one in control. And you do everything he asks because he isn’t really asking is he?

Jay feels very old man vanilla but you can probably convince him to explore and try some new experiences. He doesn’t seem like the type that would be into what he calls ‘all that nonsense’ but he knows how to give off that Daddy Dom vibe when you take things too far.

I know he seems sweet but there’s something beneath the surface when it comes to Jake. He has this dark side to him that screams Dom. He’s the kind of guy to have a special basement where he can tie you up and mar your skin. He loves to leave his mark and remind everyone that you belong to him. He has a possessive streak.

Sunghoon gives off Dom vibes but you can get him to switch. He is very competitive when it comes to the bedroom and he likes to make you orgasm often, making a game out of it. He makes sure you’re taken care of first. It wouldn’t take much to convince him to try switching it up - and he would secretly love not being in control for a while.

A precious bean. He just wants to love you and take care of you. Sunoo comes across as a sub but he’s actually really protective. More vanilla than anything else but willing to try something new out for you.

This is one to watch out for. Jungwon is a switch but you never know what you’re going to get. One day he’s sweet and cuddly like a cat, the next he’s got you crawling along the carpet on your knees begging like a dog. He loves pushing buttons and challenging boundaries.

Ni-Ki is a dom. You know it and he knows it.

🙈 - Dom/Sub/Switch/Vanilla from my emoji game!

[legendofmorons]

Written in the stars (forever on loop) chapter nine - Poker face

Pairing: pre poly! Chain x reader, Wind & reader

Rating: T

Summary: When plans are interrupted you find yourself with some skulltulas. Thankfully you reunite with the chain, unfortunately the reunion dosen’t last as long as you want.

(Aka: Spooky meets the chain and Warriors wouldn't let me give him a gentle realization... also Sky is have a Bad time at the end (off screen but you'll see why)

Warnings: Spiders, cursing, Canon typical violence, minor injury, water

Other: If I missed anything, please let me know.

Previous Masterlist Next

-------

Dark sits in the shadows with his darling lamb, watching excitedly as Onyx's plan takes effect. He watches wave after wave of increasingly difficult monsters swarm the damnable heroes.

"What do you think, my dearest viper?" Onyx asks as they lean their head onto his shoulder.

Dark gives a vicious grin that's far more like a shark than a hylian. "Your cruelty is unmatched."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Onyx purrs in a voice like honey covered blades.

Dark chuckles, pressing a kiss to their forehead.

There's the sound of a scream from a monster and a few curses.

"Perhaps a few more lynels?" Onyx muses to themselves.

"Why not draw it out?" Dark suggests.

"Oh, I am."

There's a ripple of light magic that reeks of Hylia. A shift in the world as a portal opens.

Dark growls lowly, "I sent them away!"

Onyx frowns, looking up at him. "What?"

"The Golden Bitch herself sent (Y/n) here."

"No," Onyx hisses.

"Would I lie to you?"

Onyx mutters darkly and pulls on their magic to call off the other waves. Of course Hylia is able ruin everything. She's very good at it.

Dark is quick to pull at his own magic to try to get the more dangerous monsters away for the moment.

There's urgency neither wants to examine. They don't have time for it anyway.

Stupid Hylia, always ruining their fun.

"Demise curse it," Onyx sneers.

There's an urgency to it that neither wants to examine. It's not any personalized attachment it's just buissness.

The monsters that were practically queuing up are sent to other times without a thought.

"I really hate geozards," Wind groans from his fight.

Onyx snickers, "Good."

Dark sighs, "If only this wasn't interrupted."

"Come on, we should get out of here before they finish these off," Onyx sighs.

They both stand, and Dark snags his darling lamb's hand with a grin.

Onyx lets him drag them away, running after him as they keep their fingers lacing together. They aren't looking to be separated again.

"You got those skulltulas, right?" Onyx asks.

"Maybe!" Dark calls as he sinks them through the shadows and into a place far enough away to not see the heroes.

He's had enough of their faces.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Onyx says, mostly to assure themselves.

-------

You don't sleep well the night after you go through the portal alone. Spooky is a reassurance, but making camp by yourself in a strange place is... not your favorite.

Morning comes to chase away the dreams of a past you aren't ready to fully delve into yet. Phantom touches almost linger, but they are easy to brush aside.

Knowing for sure that you are the Hero's Soulmate is strange. Soulmates are such a strange concept, at least to you.

How can you be that lucky? To have a perfect match every lifetime?

Knowing you've lived multiple lives in this world is even stranger.

It explains a lot, though.

Is the fact that you're both Link's soulmate and someone who's lived a dozen or more lives in Hyrule account for you being so heavily drawn to the Legend of Zelda?

Does it make your fascination forgivable?

You can't say.

You aren't sure it matters...

But now that you accept the truth, you are remembering more and more. To the point you are ready to go shake your past lives because who is that far gone on some man? (You are, apparently.)

Breakfast isn't anything fancy, just a little bit of the rations you got from older Wind. It's enough to keep you going though, and that is always a plus.

("Breakfast is important, Sunshine!" An older teen with sandy hair defends as he presses your favorite meal into your hands because he knows you've been so busy you are forgetting to eat sometimes.)

After you eat, you start walking again, following Spooky.

Spooky seems to have a destination in mind, moving around confidently.

Every once in a while, they pounce on a leaf or make a low chitter sound at a bird they can't reach.

It's adorable in the 'kitty!' sense.

(Who knew ambush predators could be so sweet? Oh, that's right, every cat person ever.)

Walking alone where you have no idea where you are and the knowledge monsters could be anywhere is awful. You think you prefer the tension that the boys have going on. At least they also provide security and extra swords.

There's a deep empathy for each of your ... the ... your boys. (They are your boys, though, aren't they?)

Each of them have been alone like this, especially Wild, Sky, and Hyrule.

Spooky rubs against you as if sensing that you need to come out of your mind to focus on your surroundings.

It's probably a mile or two in that you hear hissing and clicking.

Oh shit.

That can't be a skulltula... right?

You turn to the right and catch sight of a good five skulltulas. Two in the trees and one on the ground.

Great.

You know what's worse than one giant evil spider?

Five.

Five giant evil spiders are worse.

These are so much more terrifying in person.

"Well... fuck," You groan.

Is running an option?

You hesitate too long.

The spiders are already almost to you.

Fuck.

("Skulltulas are the worst," an older teen bemoans to you as you comb your fingers through his hair. "Getting them off walls is still in my nightmares.")

How are you even supposed to flip these things to get to their weak spot?

You step back a little to create some more space and grab your sword.

Spooky growls low and long, tail swishing as they stand at your side.

The fight is a blur. Half instinct and half clumsy inexperience leads to what is probably a weird show.

Dodge.

Kick.

Strike.

Deflect.

Pain laces through your leg at a branch ripping into the skin.

Blood.

Spooky flips a skulltula with a growl.

You plunge your sword into the beasts weak spot.

It dissapears in a shrieking hiss and puff of dark magic.

"Good kitty!" You call.

The fight goes on like this.

You keep the attention, dodging and sometimes stumbling, while Spooky waits to ambush and flip them over.

You finish off the last skulltula with a victorious cry.

As soon as you finish the last spider off, you look to Spooky.

"Good kitty!" You declare again.

Spooky sits down and starts panther bath time.

Which is probably a good plan.

You put your sword and shield back where they go before taking stock of your own injuries.

There's the cut on your shin, shallow but painful and bleeding.

There's quite a few bruises.

Wincing, you press your fingers to a sore spot on your bicep. The bruise there isn't any fun but you'll live.

You could use potion from Legend, but you don't want to waste it on something like this. There's something in your mind that says you need to save it for something worse.

("If we're ever separated and you're low on supplies, you should try to conserve potions and faries, firefly," a man says gently as he wraps you in his arms. "I hate to say it, but still...")

These half memories are driving you up a wall, and they don't even have a license to drive. It feels like there should be commercials for a class action lawsuit.

You sigh, reaching into your pack for your water and some bandages.

You'll have to clean it better later, but for now, clean water to rinse and sterile bandages is better than leaving it open to the elements.

You rinse the cut and wrap bandages around it. You tie off the bandages before putting everything else away.

By the time you're ready to move more, Spooky is sniffing the air. They sniff the air the way that cats do when they smell something they want.

Oh?

Spooky starts walking into the trees before they stop and look back to you.

Well, who are you to ignore them?

You follow them into the trees.

Spooky leads you through the forest with insistent looks and lashing tail. They seem antsy about moving to wherever they are leading you, and after the ambush of skulltulas, you are eager to follow.

Stupid spiders.

"Where are you bringing me?" You ask as you duck under a branch.

Spooky stops, tossing you a look as their tail lashes a little faster.

"Oh, come on, Spooky, I'm exhausted. I hate those stupid spiders."

Spooky lets out a crooning sound and levels you a look.

You laugh, reaching the panther and scratching behind Spooky's ear. "Thank you for saving me, pumpkin."

Spooky rubs up into your palm before they stand and start walking again.

They walk a little slower this time, leading you until you are just before a clearing and you can hear voices.

Oh...

Did Spooky just bring you back to the boys?

Bad kitty!

(You don't mean that Spooky is an angel.)

Well, if this is how things are going to be... at least you won't be the only one with a sword now.

(And if you are honest... it's sort of a nice idea to stay with your boys and get to know them again.)

Spooky sits in the treeline, waiting for you.

You huff, breaking through the trees, "Really? This is what you wanted me to see?"

The entire chain has stopped what they're doing to look over.

Several go still.

At least six pairs of eyes go wide.

Wind gasps, calling your name excitedly.

You wave, "Hey, sailor."

Epona neighs happily before trotting away from where Twilight is brushing her and over to you.

Spooky sits just behind the treeline, watching.

You gasp, hugging Epona happily when she reaches you. "Sweetheart!"

Epona huffs affectionately, bumping her muzzle along your shoulder.

You happily fish out an apple to pass to the mare. You hear the youngest snicker at the sight.

"What are you doing here?" Wind asks as he joins you and Epona. "What happened to your leg?"

"Spooky lead me here after some skulltulas got the drop on us." You wave off, stepping to the side but still petting Epona.

You don't want to come off as weak or childish... and really... there are worse monsters.

("Don't downplay your feelings just because others might have it worse. Your experiences matter, my love," a man with a green headband and mossy eyes says as he presses a kiss to your cheek.)

"Skulltulas?" Legend asks tightly. "Are you okay?"

"Spooky?" Wind asks.

"Yes, I'm fine - oh!" You glance around realizing that Spooky hasn't come out. Well, now, that is just rude. You call out, "Spooky, here kitty kitty kitty!"

"A cat?" Twilight perks up.

Wild and Hyrule also seem curious.

Spooky stalks out and runs themselves to you on the side opposite of Epona before going to sniff Wind.

"That is not a cat!" Legend tenses immediately, eyes wide.

"Get that - thing 'way from Epona!" Twilight hisses, rushing towards his horse.

"Wind get back here." Warriors says sharply.

Wind laughs, letting Spooky sniff him. The boy seems fairly unbothered and almost seems to feel a rush of delight.

Twilight grabs Epona's reigns and tries to tug the mare away only to be met with an unwilling to move horse.

"Hey now, Spooky is a good kitty." You say, reaching out to pet the panther.

"That's not a cat!" Twilight manages.

Several others make sounds of agreement.

Time looks like he's silently praying.

Sky looks ready to laugh or cry.

Four is not looking at you, fists clenching so tightly his knuckles are white.

Legend still hasn't let his muscles relax.

Spooky rubs along Wind happily before circling around to sniff Epona.

Twilight gets between Spooky and Epona, hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Hey! You hurt my cat, and I have to break your legs." You say sharply, genral animal love over riding any dislike for conflict you may have.

"If yer- pet hurts Epona-" Twilight grits out.

"Spooky won't."

"That thing -"

Spooky slips by Twilight and weaves between Epona's legs, purring as they rub up on the mare.

"What in blazes?" Twilight gapes.

"Good kitty!" You clap.

Spooky weaves around to you again, sitting at your side. Their tail lashes as if daring the chain to comment further.

"Where'd you find Spooky?" Wind asks with bright eyes.

"Spooky found me, walked right up to me in town while I was sitting outside. They like napping on me."

"D'ya have some sorta magic over animals?" Twilight wonders

"No?"

"Let me get this straight," Sky says slowly, his voice tight as he walks over. "Some stray panther came up to you in the middle of a town, and you- let it nap on you now?"

The wood carver looks like you could push him over by blowing on him.

"Yes. You can't move a sleeping cat," you say as if this is obvious.

Really thought that's just one of the rules of being a cat lover.

"That is a panther!" Legend calls with a straining voice.

"Big cat." You shrug.

"Predator!" Warriors groans.

"Hylia, help us," Four manages weakly.

You wave them off. "Spooky is a good kitty. They helped me kill giant evil spiders."

Spooky preens as if they understand that they're being praised.

"You're my hero." Wind informs you breathlessly.

"What? Why?"

"I want a pet panther."

"I think I'm Spooky's pet." You laugh.

Spooky just starts purring.

Wind laughs, too.

"Wind no one is getting you a panther," Warriors grits out lowly.

Wild is creeping over now, staring at Spooky with bright eyes.

Ah, yes, champion of the wilds... of course, he wants to meet the big cat.

He's always so good with animals.

("That is a bear - why are you trying to register a bear at my stable?" A man demands as someone with a bow on their back grins down at him.)

Spooky looks to Wild and yawns.

"We are not keeping a panther," Time says as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

You frown immediately, "Why not? Spooky's a good kitty."

"We don't keep wild animals as pets," Time sighs.

"He's right," Twilight agrees immediately.

Warriors crosses his arms, "Panthers are dangerous."

"You guys keep Wolfie," You protest on instinct despite knowing the wolf in question is really just Twilight.

It's maybe a little underhanded, but you really want to keep Spooky!

Also, it's probably easier for everyone if you aren't separated since Spooky dosen’t like that.

Stretching the truth still feels a little weird...

You've committed, though.

"That's different," Twilight defends quickly.

To be fair to him, it is different.

"Spooky is friendly! They kill monsters, they hunt their own food, they're a good gaurd cat," You reason.

Warriors just stares at you with the most deadpan look to date. "That is a wild animal."

"Preadators are horrible pets," Legend grits out.

"Still think I might be Spooky's pet," you shrug.

Hyrule bites his lip before he mutters something to himself. Looking somewhere between amusement and disappointment.

"Not better," Four manages finally.

Wind rolls his eyes, "Spooky seems fun!"

"We can't just keep a panther," Four says as he stares at the panther in question.

"Counter point," Hyrule pipes up, "How are you going to get rid of a panther that's adopted someone?"

The others all fall silent, trying to take this question in. It's a good question.

How do you separate a panther from their person?

Wild manages to kneel by Spooky and begins petting them. A soft, wondrous smile spreads on his face.

You smile softly, "See? Spooky's sweet! Isn't that right, pumpkin?"

Spooky gives a low rumble.

"Farore on a stick," Legend groans, earning himself several dirty looks.

"Spooky's a good kitty. They helped me kill skulltulas! And you saw that they like Epona!" You coax, repeating several earlier points.

Spooky is purring now, happy to lean into Wild's hands.

Twilight just stares at you with a face that a mix between resignment, fondness, grief, and exhaustion.

"If this goes poorly we get rid of Spooky," Time sighs.

Sky, Legend, and Four look distinctly sea sick.

Warriors looks like he might scream.

"Yes!" Wind beams.

You smile at the kid, trying to ignore the fact that you know his future. That's a weird thought.

At least you know he lives through this.

"Yer sure Spooky is friendly?" Twilight asks, something weighty in the words.

"To us? Absolutely!" You say firmly.

Twilight frowns but he steps closer.

He steps close enough to hold a hand out to Spooky.

Oh!

Oh yeah!

Twilight is a cat person.

("The barn cat had kittens today 'n they're cuter than a bug in a rug, darlin'!" A man grins at you as he takes your hand, alreadytuggingyou towards the barn.)

Spooky sniffs the hand and then nudges it with their nose.

Twilight steps closer again and starts petting their face gin slow and cautious movement.

A smile starts to creep up on his face. Something deep in your soul soothes at the image. He has a nice smile.

(You miss it.)

You glance around the others while Twilight, Wild, and Wind love on Spooky.

Warriors and Time stand together now, discussing something in tight tones.

Legend and Hyrule sit together and keep eyeing Spooky. Hyrule seems curious, but Legend looks ready to run.

Sky and Four are also eying Spooky, but Sky seems curious in addition to weary.

You frown.

Legend looks ready to absolutely bolt, and Four doesn't look much better.

Oh.

Right.

Minish and rabbits are technically prey.

Fairies are hit or miss...

Four won't look at you.

It makes your heart writhe and flail miserably, but it's obvious enough. Four doesn't want anything to do with you just now.

It hurts to know he dosen’t want to speak with you, but that's his right.

You move away from Spooky and the three males who are loving the panther up and start towards Legend and Hyrule.

Legend looks to you with wide eyes when you stop before him and Hyrule.

"Are you two okay?" You ask.

"Uh- fine!" Hyrule says way too fast.

"Just... not a fan of wild animals..." Legend manages faintly.

You smile softly, fondness you aren't ready to examine the origin of seeping into your being. "It's going to be okay. Spooky won't attack, and if for whatever reason they do, I'll stop them."

Legend swallows hard, "Don't do that. It's fine..."

"Hey, it's going to be okay, I pro-" You start only for Hyrule to interrupt.

"No promises!" Hyrule yelps as he grips his tunic in both hands tightly.

"Okay?" You manage, more confusion than anything.

Oh.

Promises.

Like in the dream.

("Honeybee, you have to be very, very careful when you interact with the Fae," an older teen says as he holds your hand in both of his. "You can't make Promises with a fairie. That's so dangerous... even if it's me.")

"Just... I don't like Promises." Hyrule says softer, looking away.

"Okay, that's okay. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry. It will be okay, though. Spooks is a sweetheart."

"I- Jesus jumped up christ," Legend laughs shakily, "Who gets adopted by a panther?"

You shrug a little, "Me, apparently. Maybe I'll befriend a rabbit next."

The rabbit comment is a spur of the moment joke out of your mouth before you register it.

Legend's ears dust pink at the tips, his eyes are wider yet. He almost squeaks when he asks, "Rabbit?"

"You never know," you say.

Legend just nods dumbly.

"Is your leg okay?" Hyrule asks, bringing the injury up again.

"There's a dull ache, but I'm fine it's not too bad."

Legend looks you over, hand twitching as if he wants to touch you and is holding himself back.

Apparently accepting that you're their soulmate allows your memories and intuition to start surfacing more.

It's... strange and sort of nice to know the chain so much better... but you already know them, even before.

This makes your head hurt.

"I could heal it?" Hyrule's offers.

You shake your head, "No thanks. Save your magic, I'll be okay."

"Are you sure?" Hyrule frowns.

"I'm sure," you say.

Your words don't seem to reassure either man much, but they seem to drop it.

"Well, it's good the skulltulas didn't win," Legend manages faintly.

Hyrule elbows his predecessor sharply.

You snort. "I'm glad about it too."

Legend gives a weak smile.

"You should go get Spooky before Twilight tries to pick them up," Hyrule says with a soft laugh as he points to the scene behind you.

That's probably a good idea.

You offer your most reassuring smile, "Spooks will love you, trust me."

You turn to go save Twilight's spine from his apparent need to lift a panther.

"We should keep moving soon," Time calls out.

-------

Warriors watches you, Wind, and Legend. The captain notes how Sky is in front of you walking with Four. nearby but far enough away for you not to pull him into the conversation.

You're snickering as Wind flits about you and Spooky.

Warriors still can't believe you have a panther.

His Dove would never bring a panther to the group.

Wait.

Fuck.

His Dove would absolutely do that.

He gives a slow, heavy sigh that does nothing to diminish the aching fondness.

Warriors shouldn't think you bringing home a random panther is adorable. He really, really shouldn't.

He does anyway.

He finds himself tuning into your conversation.

"Keep your panther on the other side of you," Legend groans when Spooky tries to sniff him again.

You snort, gently pushing Spooky away. "Be nice, pumpkin."

Legend just sighs, "I can't believe you're calling that predator something so sweet."

"What can I say? It fits," You laugh, scratching Spooky's face.

Wind glares at Legend. "Are you giving them shit about the best cat ever?"

Warriors agrees with the groan Legend gives.

"Wind," you sigh.

"All I'm saying is that hearing a predator get called 'pumpkin' is strange," Legend says easily.

"That's ridiculous," Wind scoffs.

"Okay, well, Ledge has a point," you shrug.

"Ledge?" Wind snickers.

Legend just sighs heavily, with far more token exhaustion than anything. "Just shut up, sailor."

"What, you don't mind being called Ledge?" Wind grins.

"I won't call you that if you don't want me to?" You offer.

Warriors can barely stand this conversation, and he isn't even in it.

"It's fine," Legend says with only a little panic. You know the normal amount of panic.

"You sure?"

"It's fine," Legend waves off.

"Oh, that bridge dosen’t look steady," Hyrule says from ahead.

That last bit feel ominous...

The group gathers around Time a few feet from the bridge.

"Maybe one at a time?" Warriors suggests.

There's a few rounds of agreement, and then there's the debate of who goes first.

Wild and Time go first.

Then Hyrule and Sky

Then Wind and Twilight go.

Four goes after that with Legend.

Your turn comes, and you cross it, with Warriors, making it halfway before the bridge breaks, and you both fall.

There's a heart-stopping stillness and cracking sounds.

Warriors manages to make panicking eye contact with Time as the old man grabs Legend and Sky to stop them from running at you two.

The bridge gives out, and all Warriors can hear is screaming and air.

There's screaming of both of your names and Warriors has just enough sense to reach out and grab your wrist.

His hand closes around your wrist just before you both plunge into the river.

All sense of direction is lost in the current.

Water rushes around him, pressure changing.

He tightens his grip on your wrist.

Light is visible.

Warriors feels you try to get to the light, so he kicks his feet to try and help, still holding your wrist.

There's pressure and then -

Warriors breaks the surface in time to see you.

You give shuttering, wheezing coughs.

He hopes this is the worst of your problems.

-------

Next - wip

Taglist: @danyzta @vrsin @silver-the-pendejo @tulip-does-stuff @justanotherweeb666 @yourlocaltreesimp @blueberrysungie @victoryssong23 @shu-leepy @sleepifonlyigoti @sour-patch-delight @phlying-squirrel @pumpkincitrus @krys0210 @theregoeskittykat @fuckingfaraway @doodle-with-rhy @luxreader

[hallelujahmeatgod]

How to Ruin a Report in 10 Folds

What happens when you leave a report unattended in Sylus' place with Luke and Kieran lurking around?

: Sylus, Luke, Kieran, Fem Reader

word count: 932

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

“OW OW OWWW!”

“We’re sorry—OWWWWW!”

Their shrieking echoed down the grand halls of Sylus’ home like a chorus of chaos.

Meanwhile, in the calm of his spacious office, Sylus was flipping through documents with practiced indifference—until the doors burst open with a bang.

There stood MC, looking positively furious as she dragged Luke and Kieran in by their ears like misbehaving toddlers. With a huff, she shoved them inside. As soon as she let go, they clutched their ears dramatically like wounded puppies.

“Boss-man!” Luke fake-wept, sprinting toward Sylus. Kieran was right behind him, mirroring the act. They latched onto his arms as if trying to shield themselves with his body.

Sylus blinked, clearly unbothered but utterly lost.

“And what exactly is going on this lovely day?” he asked sarcastically, letting them dangle off him like living accessories.

MC crossed her arms and glared daggers at the twins, who instantly flinched and retreated further behind Sylus' arms.

“Why don’t you ask these mischievous children?”

“We’re not children!” Kieran declared bravely.

“Funny for someone hiding behind Sy,” MC shot back.

And just like that, the banter exploded—snappy comebacks flying back and forth like tennis balls while Sylus sat calmly between them, a helpless spectator to the chaos.

Eventually, he sighed, cleared his throat, and stood up.

“Are any of you going to explain what this is about, or will I just be stuck refereeing this three-way squabble?” he asked dryly. “I do have better things to do, entertaining as this is.” He took a step toward the door.

“NOOOOOOO!” Luke and Kieran wailed in unison, practically clinging for dear life—Luke hugging Sylus from the front, Kieran from the back.

Had this not been a real issue, MC might’ve doubled over laughing at the sight.

Sylus, clearly over it, rolled his eyes and turned to MC, giving her a look that said, please, for the love of everything, explain.

MC took a breath. “It’s really nothing much,” she said, tone heavy with sarcasm. “These two simply decided that it would be hilarious to do some origami today.”

Sylus squinted. “...Okay? So?”

“Exactly! So?” Luke echoed from his spot against Sylus' chest.

MC’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, don’t test me. I might’ve even helped you with your little paper cranes—had you not used my entire damn report!”

The twins flinched in unison. So did Sylus, ever so slightly.

“Your report?” he asked.

“Mhhm”

“The one you stayed up all night working on?”

“Yes, Sylus. You are correct. The report I stayed up all night working on,” she replied with a tight, painfully polite smile.

Sylus exhaled slowly and began to pry the twins off of him. Now that he grasped the full scope, he couldn’t just let it slide.

What the twins didn’t know was that Sylus had nearly cried trying to get MC to take a break from that damn report the night before. The leader of Onychinus—begging? Practically. But MC clung to her keyboard like it was a lifeline. She wouldn’t let it go.

And now… now the report was a fleet of origami birds.

In no time, Luke and Kieran were lined up before Sylus and MC like scolded children. Sylus rested a calming hand on MC’s back and fixed the boys with a stern look.

“Of all the papers in this house,” he said, “why hers? Look at me.”

They lifted their heads, hesitant.

“Nothing to say?”

Luke glanced at Kieran before muttering, “It’s just…”

“…Her paper was the best one for origami,” Kieran finished quietly.

There was a long pause. Sylus and MC looked at each other, both trying very hard not to laugh.

MC wasn’t truly angry—just tired and mildly unhinged from staying up all night printing those reports only for them to be turned into swans or stars or whatever. But their reasoning?

She could barely keep a straight face.

Then Luke mumbled something under his breath.

“Hm? Didn’t catch that,” Sylus said.

Luke sighed, defeated. “The other paper was too flimsy.”

MC stared at them. Her frustration was practically gone by now.

“How am I supposed to stay mad at you two?” she asked, exhaling with a soft smile. “I’m still a little upset, sure—because I really worked hard on those reports. But thanks to your dad here, I’ve learned to embrace the whole ‘what’s done is done’ mindset.”

She softened. “Just… be careful next time, okay?”

The twins nodded and muttered apologies.

Once the dust settled and Sylus gave them a few parting warnings, the boys retreated to wherever they went to pretend they were sorry.

Later that evening, Sylus walked into his room to find MC lounging calmly—completely opposite of her earlier rage.

“You had backups, didn’t you?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

MC smirked. “Obviously. I basically live with you three. I’d be a fool not to.”

Sylus chuckled. “You’re terrifying.”

MC raised a brow. “Is that a complaint?”

He looked at her for a moment, then smirked. “Not even a little.”

That night, MC returned to Sylus’ office and found a neat folder on his desk. On top of it sat a lone paper crane and a folded note with her name on it.

Inside the folder was a freshly printed version of her report, along with a clumsily handwritten message:

"We’re sorry. Please don’t set us on fire. Love, Luke and Kieran <3"

In the corner of the last page, someone had scribbled:

"P.S. We made you a new swan. It doesn’t bite."

MC rolled her eyes and took the new crane, looking at it fondly. “…Idiots,” she muttered with a smile.

[arbitrarykiwi]

I absolutely LOVE your thanos and namgyu boyfriend content🙏😣 can you please make one where Namgyu is more on the sub side (he’s very whiny and needy) and he also gets jealous easily (like he always needs your hands on him even while giving thanos attention) That would be so greatly appreciated!!💕 (I never see sub Namgyu anywhere😭😭)

Undivided Attention

OH MY LAWD IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I’m so sorry I’ve been gone so long too 😔😔 I’ve missed you guys!!! I literally had this written for months and just needed to finish something’s up- then I broke my phone, lost my WIPs and got locked out of this account for a moment but we’re SO BACK YALL!

My posting schedule will still be wonky as I try to get back into the swing of things. But I really hope you guys like this one I tried to add a lil more to make it a bigger gift as apology for my absence 🤲

Warnings: smut (18+) , p in v sex , oral (m receiving) , choking , dirty talk , sub!nam-gyu , name calling (slut like once or twice) , little bit of thanos x namgyu , squirting , creampie , cum eating , deep throating , cowgirl, probably others read at your own risk

The whole day you’ve realized something was different about Nam-Gyu. It wasn’t anything bad he was just needy. Thanos had of course noticed it too, poking fun at the other male anytime a pout formed on Nam-gyu’s face.

He was clingy, more so than usual.

When you got out of the shower Nam-gyu and Thanos were waiting for you as you got out like normal. Laugher bubbled out of your chest as Nam-gyu nearly knocks over Thanos to be the one to wrap the towel around you. His arms wrap around you and chin hooking over your shoulder- caging you into him as his lips pepper kisses on your still wet skin.

“C’mon man! I could have sworn it was my turn to do that.” Thanos pouts, regaining his balance and coming to your other side to place a kiss on your cheek. “Don’t care, didn’t ask.” Nam-gyu mumbles against your skin, breathing in the smell of the soap you just used. He’s rubbing his face into your neck, like he can’t get enough of you. The long black hair falling over his face and ticking your neck. Thanos quirks up an eyebrow, catching your eyes in the mirror; both of you sensing Nam-gyu’s new attitude.

You realized throughout the day that Nam-gyu was unusually needy. You weren’t complaining! It was endearing and you loved the extra attention. But it was drastically different from his normal self. Nam-gyu would often act so nonchalant about everything, he would need your attention but he’d never beg for it- he was far too ‘cool’ for that. If he wanted your hands on him or your attention, he would just take it. But not today.

When you were getting ready, doing your makeup in the mirror Nam-Gyu was next to you- handing you whatever you needed next and sitting shoulder to shoulder with you. “You’re practically on top of me.” You giggle while looking at Nam-gyu through the mirror who had his head laying on your shoulder, his hands tracing patterns into your thigh. It was like he physically couldn’t be away from you. Like he needed to be in your skin.

Thanos was lying on the bed behind you two, chuckling at Nam-gyu’s demeanor. “You’re so needy today bro..” Thanos laughs, hands reaching out to rub at Nam-gyu’s shoulders, shaking him around. “So what.” Nam-gyu responds, pouting, leaning his head onto your shoulder and inhaling your scent. “Jus’ wanna be near my baby.” He finishes as he places a kiss on your shoulder, handing you your eyeliner.

“You’ve been near her! The whole day!” Thanos jokes, ruffling up Nam-gyu’s hair much to his dismay. “Yeah, and I need to be near her more…you smell so good.” His own bite back to Thanos is cut short when he inhales your scent once more, smelling the familiar scent of your shampoo and perfume. It was like home to him (and to Thanos but this ain’t about him rn).

“Thank you, love.” You smile at him from the mirror where you’re doing your makeup, finding a stopping point to look to your side and place a gentle kiss on Nam-gyu’s head. Thanos rolls his eyes and leans further over the edge of the bed to get closer to you. “Me too!!” He whines playfully, and you can’t say no so you turn and place a kiss on his cheek. Nam-gyu huffs, pouting when your attention is drawn away from him. Even for the slightest second.

This attitude of his continued the whole day. Hell, you three even ordered in because Nam-gyu said he didn’t feel like cooking, and that was odd. He really just didn’t want to be distracted by making dinner when he could be spending time with his sweet girl! Those minutes cooking were minutes he couldn’t have his hands on you. He didn’t want that….And led up to where you were now

You three were laid out on your bed, watching some show that Thanos wanted to watch. You’re sure three blunts have been smoked by now and all three of you were properly stoned. You’d figure that maybe if Nam-Gyu got high, he’d be a little more mellow, maybe more laid back- that wasn’t the case. Now he was practically on top of you, nuzzling his face into your chest like he wanted to get into your skin.

“Come on man! You’re stealing all the warmth!” Thanos groans, trying to wrap his arms around you to pull you more into him. “No ‘m not.” Nam-gyu mumbles, his face buried in your chest, his words hardly audible. “Yes you are!!” Thanos groans, sliding an arm between you and Nam-Gyu to grab onto your waist and pull you closer to him. Thanos kisses along your neck, the light pecks becoming ticklish as he kisses your skin over and over as you giggle.

Nam-gyu whines when Thanos pulls you from him and takes your attention. It’s a sound that makes you and Thanos pause completely. Both of your heads turn to Nam-Gyu, eyes wide like you both made the sound up. But when you and Thanos look over to him and catch Nam-Gyu’s eyes, his face is tinged red and he can’t even look at either of you.

“Dude o-oh my god! The fuck was that!!” Thanos says chuckling, leaning over you to playfully push at Nam-gyu’s shoulder. Nam-gyu hides his face, covering it with his ringed hands and huffing. “N-nothing! Shut up!!” Nam-Gyu says sitting up to try and get away from you two, he doesn’t even know what came over him. He just doesn’t want your attention to stray from him. It’s like a drug he craves. Normally he was good at sharing- he had to be for this situation between the three of you to continue the way it has, something today made him just need your attention; all of it. He was so needy.

You jump up and crawl on the bed so you’re situated between his legs. It takes so much strength to pry his hands off his face. You’re cooing at him, a sickly sweet smile on your face as you nudge his nose with yours to get him to open his eyes. Reluctantly, he meets your gaze, he’s blushing, fuck you have never EVER seen him like this.

You reach up, cupping either side of his face in your hands. “What’s up with you, baby?” You inquire. As you coddle him, Thanos slips behind Nam-gyu, resting back against the headboard of the bed, his legs spreading out on either side of Nam-gyu. The pout that forms on his face is so precious, his cheeks somewhat squished by your hands. “Nothin’s wrong…jus’ wanna touch you ‘n he’s taking you away from me.” Nam-gyu’s words are slurred by how you’re squishing his face. It feels so weird, so foreign to him. But all he can feel is need. An innate desire to have you just use him and take whatever you want from him.

Thanos sneakily wraps his arms around Nam-Gyu from the back, pulling him back onto his chest. Nam-gyu wants to turn around and scowl at Thanos but the way you follow him, crawling over his lap and straddling his legs has him in a trance. Thanos’ legs cage your thighs against Nam-gyu’s. You can’t help but bite your lip at the view of Thanos’ tattooed hands begin to bunch up Nam-Gyu’s shirt to reveal his pale skin. Your hands immediately run up Nam-gyu’s thighs, trailing to his stomach, letting out a small hum when you feel his stomach tense under your light touches.

“What’s got you so needy today?” You muse, leaning down so your breath fans over the skin of his stomach. Your eyes looking up at his flushed face, swollen lips parted as Nam-Gyu takes in breath after shuddering breath.

“F-fuck I don’t know.” Nam-gyu huffs, wiggling in Thanos grasp. “I-I just…” He’s frustrated, not even fully understanding why he felt the way he did. He and Thanos had always been the dominate two in your relationship, he had never had an issue with sharing. Hell, Choi Su-Bong was the only man Nam-gyu thought he could ever have a set up like this with. But he just needed you.

Needed your attention. Your praise. Your touch.

You watch as his eyes follow your fingers, dancing along his abdomen as you glare at him like a cheetah ready to pounce- that only makes him writhe against bed more. “‘S okay, baby…” you purr, grin only widening at his reaction to your words. Nam-gyu bites his bottom lip, hips canting off the bed as his aching cock searches for any sort of friction. “Imma take care of you, yeah? Make you feel reallllll good, like I always do.”

As you speak your fingers dance lower, tracing the dark patch of hair that runs to his waistband and disappears into the jeans. Nam-gyu’s head kicks back against Thanos’ shoulder, every touch feels like he might explode in his pants. Your fingers are just tracing circles around his pants button and he swears that sensation alone- you stroking the metal button and in turn, the underside of his cock.

“Mhm…yeah.” Nam-Gyu grunts out in a breathy tone, expecting you to get to work- take him into your warm, inviting mouth and let him lose himself in ecstasy. But he’s doesn’t feel the relief of his pants being unbuttoned or the cool room air hitting his throbbing cock- nope. Your hand pulls back from circling his button and he doesn’t feel you at all.

“Earn it.” Your grin stretches across your lips wickedly. Nam-gyu looks at you in disbelief, eyebrow arched like you’re speaking a foreign language. “W-what do you-“

His body jerks up off the bed when Thanos tattooed hand pinches at his nipple. Fuck he never thought he’d be into this shit, being at the mercy of both of you, but here he is- cock rock hard, becoming painful at this point, and only getting harder the longer he’s trapped between you and Thanos.

Your hand grips hardly at the bulge that is straining so hard against his jeans. “Beg for it.” You simply say, your head tilting to the side, grin widening. “Oh damn!” Thanos laughs, tattooed hands dancing along Nam-gyu’s chest, “Never seen this side of you, pretty.” Thanos eyes narrow mischievously, smile growing to match yours. His hands fall down to Nam-gyu’s hips, caging Nam-gyu impossibly closer, limiting his ability to writhe against your hand for more. In turn, pressing the whining males back against his own throbbing cock.

“A-ah fuck…that’s it…” Thanos hisses in a low growl, interrupting your next words, head rolling back when the pressure of Nam-Gyu eases the pain of the erection he has. Thanos never thought he’d see you- the girl they fucked to tears, the one always begging for them- in such a dominant position. And the feeling that bloomed inside of him when he was witnessing Nam-gyu turn into a pathetic mess under your touch is something Thanos thinks not even the best acid trip could replicate.

Nam-gyu tries to look between the two of you the best he can given his position. His heart is racing, his dick is painfully hard. “P-please.” Nam-gyu huffs out, eyebrows knitted together as the foreign word falls off his tongue. “F-fuck please… just fuckin’ take it out.” He whines, hips canting upwards against your hand.

Admittedly, you’re impatient and the thought of feeling his hard cock against your tongue excited you in ways you can’t describe. Your hand works at the button of his jeans, pulling down the golden zipper to reveal his grey boxers- already stained a darker grey right where his tip sits. You and Thanos let out similar mocking laughs, it’s almost shameful how worked up he is just by this little attention from you.

“So excited aren’t you baby~” you coo, a manicured nail tracing along the tip of his cock through his boxers, trailing your finger down the thick tent that’s formed. The moan that rips through Nam-gyu’s throat takes all of you off guard. It’s creaky, whiny, almost pleading as he bucks up into your hands. “You’re this hard just from her playing with you?” Thanos mocks, pinning his hips down, bringing Nam-gyu back against his own throbbing cock.

“I just… f-fuck ohmygod please I need your hand o-or mouth fuck! Anything!” Nam-gyu wants to bite back at Thanos words but his dark eyes are trained on you, head low, breath fanning against his hard on that visibly twitches under the cotton of his boxers. Thanos’ painted nails dip under the waist band of Nam-gyu’s boxers, pushing the fabric down. “I think we should at least let him out of this clothes, he’s so hard it probably hurts…” Thanos muses in a low voice, like he’s mocking Nam-gyu (and he is), eyes locking with yours over Nam-gyu’s shoulder.

You lift up a bit, assisting Thanos in removing Nam-gyu’s pants and boxers. The shuddering sigh Nam-gyu lets out as his hard cock slaps free against his abdomen makes your clit throb. “A-ah Fuck!” You watch as his body convulses when Thanos grips the base of his cock. Tattoos hands gripping the shaft as his eyes lock with yours. “Open up.”

With a devious grin and your eyes trailing back over to lock eyes with Nam-Gyu, your mouth drops open, tongue lolling out, sitting pretty and pink- so ready for him. Thanos slaps Nam-gyu’s hearty cock against your tongue, a wet plap plap plap sound resonates throughout the room. Each time Nam-Gyu’s cock connects with the warm, wet surface of your eager tongue he thinks he could come then and there. He doesn’t even know why he’s letting Thanos touch him like this- this wasn’t normal for him- but holt fuck did he like it. He liked being under the control of both of you and most importantly….

He had your undivided attention. Thanos was simply an aide right now, helping you pleasure him- your eyes were trained on him, your tongue was lapping at the head of his cock, you were doting on him and him alone. This is what he wanted.

“Hngghhh, oh fuck. S-so fuckin pretty like that.” Nam-gyu whines, hips bucking up into Thanos hand to rub even more of his cock on your tongue. You smile, lips pursing to press a languid kiss to the tip of his cock, tongue taking a moment to lap over the leaking slit. “Thank you, love.” You hum, batting your eyelashes. Your words are nearly drowned out by Nam-gyu’s whines that fall without abandon the moment he gets the briefest feeling of your mouth wrapped partially around him.

“Use your words. Tell her what you want.” Thanos says, voice gravely as he squeezes his hand just the slightest bit more, laughing to himself as Nam-gyu jolts off the bed at his movement. “I…” Nam-gyu’s head falls back against Thanos’ shoulder as he falls breathless, swallowing thickly as he tries to speak again. “I need y-your mouth. F-fuck pleaseeee.” He draws out the last syllable into a high creaky whine that has arousal soaking through your underwear.

He’s granted the solace of your mouth soon after he begs. Your lips wrap around the reddened tip, slowly taking him into your mouth. He wants to thrust down into your tight, warm, throat but Thanos keeps his hips pinned down, your hand replacing his as you begin to work it up and down Nam-gyu’s shaft. The room fills with the debauched sounds of your slurps and Nam-gyu’s whines.

You give him a show, pulling back every so often to spit messily down his cock before diving right back down to sink him deep into your throat. Nam-gyu thinks he’s seeing stars, his thighs tense and his toes curl as he cries out mixed babbles of your name and ‘more’.

Removing your hand from Nam-gyu’s cock, keeping your other hand planted on the bed for balance, you bring your hand to between your legs. Thankfully the shirt (really one of Thanos’) was the only thing you were wearing besides a pair of underwear. You push the thin fabric to the side. Your hands find your cunt, fingers massaging up and down your folds as you sink your mouth alllllll the way down Nam-gyu’s cock. Your eyes never leave Nam-gyu’s as he looks down at the show you’re giving him. “H-holy f-fuck…wanna fuck! Wanna feel how wet you are…” he whines, licking his lips at the thought of how wet you must be right now. Your poor cunt neglected and drooling. Fuck he needs your sweet cunt so bad. His mind is reeling with these thoughts, only serving to make him even harder.

“Yeahhh…you know she’s so fuckin’ wet. The slut loves to suck us off, I bet her pussy’s just dripping from choking on your cock.” Thanos muses, watching with a hawk like stare as you move up and down Nam-Gyu’s dick. “So fuckin’ messy, isn’t she?” The purple haired man adds, nudging the man seated in front of him to answer.

“Mhm… s-so holyfuck so fuckin messy, taking it all so well.” Nam-gyu gasps, his voice is wavering and high pitched, the sound makes your eyes flutter closed and moan around him. He can’t keep his eyes off the mess of spit that pours out from around your mouth and on the skin of his pelvis.

You sit up, pulling off his cock with a lewd ‘pop’. Nam-gyu opens his mouth to complain but doesn’t even have time to protest before your fingers are entering his mouth and his tongue is flooded with the all too familiar taste of you. He was right, you were wet, so fucking wet. Your fingers were covered in your arousal and he wasn’t going to let it go to waste. His lips wrap around your fingers and suck them into his mouth greedily, letting you push your fingers back into his mouth. Even as he gags around your fingers he doesn’t stop cleaning them, tongue swirling around the digits to get every last drop.

You can’t help but moan at the sight. He’s taking your fingers down his throat and locking eyes with you. His cock is resting hard against his abdomen, neglected and making a mess of his stomach. You pull your fingers out of his mouth and quickly move to wrap your lips around his thick cock once more.

You work yourself skillfully, taking all of him in despite the ache in your jaw. Your spit has all but coated his lower stomach but Nam-Gyu doesn’t care one bit. With every drag of your tongue along his cock he’s twitching pathetically against the bed.

“Tell her how good she’s making you feel.” Thanos rasps, thumbs running over Nam-gyu’s nipples as he rests back against Thanos’ chest.

Thanos’ words are nearly lost between the sounds of your debauched slurps and gags as you work your mouth up and down Nam-gyu’s cock. “F-fuck! S-so god damn good…best fuckin mouth.” Nam-gyu’s voice is high pitched, whiny almost, its music to your ears. It spurs you on, pulling back to spit on his cockhead.

Your wrist twists viciously, pumping up and down his thick length as your thumb collects the globs of pre-cum that leak continuously out of his slit. “Yeah?” You coo, leaning in to lock lips with him in a messy kiss. It’s full of spit, tongue and teeth. You can hear Nam-gyu pant into your mouth, shuddering each time you thumb at the crown of his cock- right under his throbbing cock head. “This what you needed baby? Jus’ needed to be taken care of?” Your words are slurred against his lips. Thanos growls at the visual in front of him, his two favorite people connected in the most filthy way.

Nam-Gyu nods frantically, letting out mixed gasps of you and Thanos name. The feeling of your mouth and hands working his cock to filth and Thanos’ fingers running up and down his torso, stoping every so often to pull at his nipples- it has him going insane. His thighs are jittering against the bed. Thanos reaches one hand up to grip at your chin and he pulls you into a sloppy kiss.

Nam-gyu doesn’t know why, normally the image would turn him on, something about watching you and Thanos make out always made his dick throb…. but now all he can think about is how your attention isn’t on him. He musters all the strength he can to pick his shaking hands up from the bed to grip at the back of your hair and yank you off of Thanos. You two pull away with a string of saliva connecting the two of you together, the shiny strand falling and cascading down your breasts.

Thanos is saying something, probably a retort or complaining about the kiss being ruined but you can’t hear him. Nam-gyu is maneuvering you back towards him, molding his lips with yours in a desperate kiss. His lips are practically twitching, soft moans and whines fill your mouth as each time your pillowy lips touch his, it sends violent electric shocks up Nam-gyu’s body. “S-so needy…” you muse through the kiss, trying to pull away to sink your mouth back on his cock, but he is chasing your lips so fervently.

You end up placing a hand to his throat, squeezing ever so gently as you push him back, the view of his eyes fluttering shut and his mouth agape is a straight up pornographic view that you know will replay in your head for days to come. Your eyebrow quirks up, your hand giving another experimental squeeze. Nam-gyu lets out a high pitched moan, one that’s so breathy you almost didn’t catch it.

“So you like getting choked, huh?” Thanos muses, punctuating his words by reaching down and beginning to jerk Nam-Gyu off. Nam-gyu winces, moaning put another choked mix of your names as his hips rut up into Thanos’ grasp. “Y’know we always call her a slut…but looks like you were just as much as one all along ‘Gyu~” Thanos teases, you get a front row view to the way Nam-gyu’s face contorts to try and bite out an insult but he can’t- not with the way you’re squeezing his throat and Thanos is pumping his cock.

Nam-gyu bites his lip, a choked breath catching in his throat but he doesn’t respond. Your grin widens, you catch Thanos eyes from where he’s sitting behind Nam-gyu. Both of you make the same movement, Thanos’ hand tightens around Nam-gyu’s cock and your hand squeezes harder at his throat. Leaning closer to Nam-gyu’s face, your lips centimeters away from his, you speak, “Answer him.”

Nam-gyu lets out a soft moan at your words, your tone something he hasn’t seen before- normally him and Thanos were the one breaking you! Never in his life did he think he’d end up here…his best friend jerking his cock while their shared girlfriend chokes him like a dominatrix. He leans forward to capture your lips once again, trying to make your dominance falter and not obeying you. It’s so hard to do with your hand holding his neck but he tries.

You laugh, it’s a cute attempt, you’ve never seen Nam-gyu so desprate. “What do you want sweet boy, ya gotta use your words..” You hum, leaning forward to spit down on his hefty cock, Nam-Gyu moans the most high pitched, creaky, downright sinful sound you’ve ever heard as he watches Thanos rub your spit up and down his cock. “F-fuck, w-wanna taste you princess, w-want you to sit on my- ohmygod- my face.”

Thanos chuckles, the sound of his best friend being so desperate makes his cock throb painfully. Thanos knows that if Nam-gyu is eating you out, your pretty little mouth would be all for him to use- the thought makes him move so fast. He lets out a small huff and releases Nam-gyu’s cock, moving out from behind him and helping to lower his fucked out form to the pillows. You look to Thanos, a scowl on your face, you wanted to make him beg more!

“Easy, give the man what he deserves…” Thanos says looking at you, an almost challenging look in his eyes. “We treat you so good, no? You get a little bit of dominance and it gets to your head?” Thanos says shuffling on the bed to wrap his hands in your hair and pull you to him. His teeth are gritted, you may be in charge or Nam-gyu but you sure as hell weren’t the most dominant one here, he would remind you of that. “‘Gyu has an issue that needs to be fixed… he was good and followed your directions, right?” You nod.

Nam-gyu tightens his grip on your thighs, rutting his hard cock up into your clothed heat. Your attention was not on him! “Fuck please!” He whines, pulling at your hips to try and slid you up his body to where he needed you. Thanos’ head turns towards Nam-Gyu, scowling at him the same way he was looking at you. “Patience. Not about to have two fucking brats here.” Thanos seethes.

Nam-gyu feels his heart and his cock jump. Is this how you feel when they ruin you? Do you get the same rush of adrenaline when they degrade you with words that verge on the tone of threatening?? If it is, fuck, he needs to have it happen more often. Nam-gyu bites his lip and nods, eyes twisting shut as he thrusts his hips back and forth, dragging his clothed cock along the warmth of your covered pussy.

“..be a good girl…” Thanos scoffs, at least Nam-gyu listened quickly, unlike you most times. He punctuates his words by tightening his grip on your hair, “..and give the needy thing what he wants.” Thanos growls, tilting his head towards Nam-gyu. You swallow, mind flipping between being a brat and obeying Thanos and giving Nam-Gyu what he wants.

But you have never seen Nam-gyu like this, you’ve never heard his voice crack, you’ve never seen him beg. So you stuff down the want to tease and test Thanos and hurriedly rid yourself of soaked lace panties you had pulled to the side. When you crawl your way up Nam-gyu’s bare chest and place your dripping cunt over his face, your thighs caging in his head his eyes are rolling back into his skull. His hands find purchase on your hips, pulling you down to his mouth with so much fervor you have no time to react.

He whines into your cunt, tongue flattening to cover the entire expanse of your pussy, covering each and everything of his tastebuds with the scribe taste of you. He doesn’t know why but he feels like he could cry, god the feeling of your pussy on his tongue was diving him mad, so soft, so sweet. “So- fuck- so god damn good…so wet.” Nam-gyu laps at your cunt, his words slurred and muffled. He pulls back to spit up at your cunt, immediately pulling you back down onto his mouth to slurp up his mess.

Your hands fly to his hair, pulling his face deeper into your pussy. He’s relentless, eating you like a man on death row who was presented his last meal. Nam-gyu’s hands tighten on your hips, the grip almost bruising as he begins to rock you back and forth over his tongue. He’s shameless, really, whining and whimpering into your sopping heat as he greedily slurps down everything you have to offer.

“Mmh…f-fuck so good…mpphh…th-thankyouthankyou…” Nam-gyu babbles below you, his voice high and whiny as you rut against his face. He places kiss after kiss on your needy clit like he’s worshiping you- and he is. You keel over, hand grasping at the headboard to keep yourself upright. He’s truly not giving you a moment to breathe, wriggling his hot tongue into the depths of your soaking walls to carve the shape of the muscle into you. His needy whines, nearing sobs now, make your mind fuzzy.

“He likes eating you out that much?” Thanos chides with a mocking laugh, you’re brought out of your pleasure induced haze. “H-huh??” You muse, blissfully confused as you rock your hips down onto Nam-gyu’s nose. You can hardly form words, your free hand grasping at Nam-gyu’s hair in a damn near painful grip. Anytime a moan falls from your lips the efforts of the man below you become more fervent, your moans only making Nam-gyu slurp harder at your cunt.

Thanos lets out a boisterous laugh seeing your disheveled state. “Not much of a dom if you’re so fucked out by him jus’ eating your pussy.” His words make your tummy burn with even more heat, your eyebrows furrow as you tried to glare at him, trying to make yourself seem more about it…but it’s so hard when Nam-gyu sucks your clit into his mouth, lips wrapping around the bud as his tongue lolls around it lazily.

The large, tattooed rapper doesn’t give you the time of day to prove your dominance. Why would he? He knows exactly how to make you melt and break with just a single move of his thick finger- any attempt at being the dominant one would be shattered just by him staring at you with his dark, hungry, stare. “Fucking look.” He hisses, gripping at your chin to move your gaze over your shoulder.

“The slut can’t even help himself..” Thanos rasps, his words nearly a growl as he places his face close to yours, his words swimming through your ears like some new street drug. “Humping the air like a dog while he eats your cunt.”

A white hot bolt of pleasure shoots through your body as Nam-Gyu moans into your pussy, the vibrations going right to your clit and only adding to the growing heat deep in your stomach. The view is so sinful you think you might just pass out by looking at it. Nam-gyu’s hips jerk up into the air, thick cock jumping against his stomach, leaking all over the dark patch of hair that’s along his pelvis. You have never seen him like this and now you’re sure it’s now one of your favorite views ever.

“And listen to him…” Thanos muses, lips tickling your ear as he lowers his head, teeth grazing at the column of your neck, “needy fuckin’ thing he is…he’s prolly’ crying into your pussy…” You whimper at the idea, Nam-Gyu broken under you, sobbing from the pleasure that he gets from solely eating you out.

It seems like Thanos words don’t only affect you, they affect Nam-gyu. He whines into your cunt, hips jutting upwards. Every needy, wanton moan is muffled by your slick pussy but you can hear they way, between slurps, how the moans only increase in volume- become more creaky- like every mouthful of your arousal is his life essence.

You feel a hand thread in your hair, pulling your face back forward. You’re met with none other than Su-bong grinning down at you, fisting his leaking cock millimeters from your face. “C’mon pretty, ain’t no way he’s ate your pussy so good your mouth is useless…” His voice is low, mocking, punctuated by his hand tightening his hand on your hair.

“S-shut the fuck- oh my god you’re so wet.” Nam-gyu can’t even finish his retort to Thanos before he’s lifting his head back up the slightest bit to slurrppp at a thick glob of your arousal that leaks from your cunt. “Shu-shut the fuck up, ‘m eating her out good.” Nam-gyu whines, looking up at Thanos with a pout on his face. “Tell me ‘m making you feel good, p-please.” Dark eyes dart back up to you, majority of his face shrouded by your thighs, pleading with you to praise his efforts.

You nod, chest heaving and nearly crying from pleasure yourself as you answer, “M-mhm, soo good, jus’ like that baby.” You praise, locking your eyes with his. At your words, his eyes roll back into your head and he slurps at your cunt, lips wrapping around your clit to suck it into his mouth. Nam-gyu is eating you out like it’s the last meal he’d ever get. It’s fucking mind numbing, tongue tracing every fold before shifting you up to push into your walls, hands rocking your hips back and forth over his nose as his tongue fucks into you- tasting every drop of arousal.

You’re brought back to earth by a harsh tug in your hair, twisting your head to look to the side. Face to face with Thanos leaking cock, you lick your lips, mouth dropping open as you eagerly take his dick. “That’s it pretty girl…” He rasps, hands pushing your head down along his shaft, wasting no time in sliding his cock into your throat, “alllll the way down, jus’ like that…” he muses, blown out eyes locked on you, watching you take all of him down your throat.

With Nam-gyu working fervently at your cunt, you’re moaning around Thanos cock immediately between the small gags that are muffled around his girth. The tattooed hand in your hair works you up and down his cock relentlessly- he knows you can take it all - he’s seen you take it all, he’s not wasting anytime. His head falls back, Adam’s apple bobbing as he lets out a deep, guttural, groan. “G-good f-fuckin girl.” Thanos praises, fingers scratching lightly at your scalp as if in a reward.

Nam-gyu doesn’t like that your attention isn’t on him. Sure he knows how to share…all of you have been doing it for years…but, right now he wants all of your attention. All of you.

He has no decision but to work harder. His hands lift you up the slightest bit, deft fingers circling your puffy cunt and collecting your arousal. The stretch of two ringed fingers fucking themselves into you has you surging forward and crying around Thanos’ cock. Nam-gyu knows your body, he’s always been attentive and observant so it makes sense that his fingers are immediately abusing that gummy spot deep inside you that has you seeing stars.

Nam-gyu is transfixed on your cunt, eyes watching as his fingers disappear into your sopping walls and reappear covered in your juices. He’s eaten you out so fervently that your folds are puffy and raw- yet he can see the way your cunt greedily sucks his fingers in. He’s lifting his head up, lips finding your clit once again as his tongue flicks at the sensitive bud. His hips are bucking wildly into the air, grinding his cock against his own stomach, a mess of precum smeared over his abdomen and staining the shirt he still had on.

“Soooo fuckinnngg goooddd~” the words are slurred against your cunt, sending vibrations throughout your pussy. You’re practically sobbing around Thanos’ cock, eyes rolling so far back you’re sure you’d be seeing your skull soon. The feeling of Nam-gyu slurping at your cunt and Thanos using your mouth, grinning down at you with that pleased smirk- it’s mind numbing.

You have to ground yourself. Your hands release themselves from Nam-Gyu’s hair to steady them on Thanos’ thighs, allowing you to take him more, tongue working eagerly at the underside of his cock. “Fuck yeah, such a good fuckin’ cock sucker ain’t ya?” Thanos praises, hand holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail as you work yourself up and down his cock.

The second Nam-Gyu feels your hands release themselves from his hair. He’s realize he’s shared enough for the night. He needs you fully. He can’t even explain the feeling that’s come over him but he needs all of you, he needs your undivided attention as if it’s the air he needs to live. He’s whining pathetically into your cunt, fingers working harder as he fucks them deeper into your tight cunt.

He hears you cry around Thanos’ cock, watching as one of your hands pulls away from his thigh and sits in the air like you’re tying to decide where to hold onto to keep yourself upright- Thanos’ thigh or Nam-gyu’s hair. Your hand moves back to Thanos’ thighs, using them to stabilize yourself as you work harder at his dick, taking him until your nose presses against the trail of hair at the base of his cock.

Not what he wants.

Nam-gyu groans in annoyance, lips sucking at your clit harder, tongue abusing your little clit. But you’re still not focused on him. Sure, you’re moaning at how good he’s making you feel, you’re grinding eagerly into his hand and mouth wanting more- but it’s not enough.

You were far too cock drunk to even realize what Nam-gyu was doing before it’s too late. He’s gripping at your hips and dragging you down his face, his torso. The position is awkward, Thanos has to move with you but you’re still sucking him off.

“Pay attention to me.” Nam-gyu whines. You pull off Thanos’ cock, hands moving to stroke his shaft while you look confused towards Nam-gyu. Is this not what he wanted?

You got your answer soon enough. He was enjoying this. This is exactly what he wanted. He just needed more. More of you.

With skilled, practiced movement he’s planting his feet on the bed and moving you down over his lap and lining his aching cock up with your pussy. He doesn’t wait before he’s sinking you all the way down onto his thick cock. Your cunt sucks him in greedily, stretching around him in the most delicious way. “F-fuck! N-nam-gyu!” Your hands have no option but to pull away from Thanos and plant themselves on Nam-gyu’s chest.

That’s it. There you are.

When Nam-gyu makes eye contact and sees your fucked out expression, lips puffy and raw from sucking thanos off, hands gripping at the fabric of his shirt that was stained with your wetness- he thinks he might just blow his load then and there. His hands grip onto your hips almost painfully.

He doesn’t work his way up to a brutal pace, oh no….he’s waited far too long for that. With his feet planted on the mattress he jackhammers his hips up into you. Each thrust bullies his cock into your cunt, echoed by the sound of skin slapping. A squeal comes from your lips as you fall back the slightest bit, hands coming to find purchase on his knees.

Each thrust jolts you upwards, giving Nam-Gyu a perfect view of your tits bouncing. The way your cunt grips him, like he’s being sucked in has his mind melting. Fuck, you always felt so good. “So fuckin’ tight. Taking me so fucking well, yeah? Tell me you like it, fuck please…tell me I’m doin good…” Nam-gyu rambles, each word is cut off by a heavy breath, a moan, a grunt- he’s practically incoherent. He’s whining. Pleading with you to give him some kind of praise.

“Uh-huh..” you babble breathlessly, one hand moving on its own to reach up and jerk off Thanos- you didn’t want to leave him out for too long, “s-so fucking good!” You cry out. It’s not enough for Nam-Gyu, he wants to take your praise to heart but he can’t focus when your one hand is not on him.

He doesn’t have all of you.

Your eyes, once screwed shut, rip themselves open when you feel Nam-gyu grab your wrist, guiding your hand up down back to him. He presses your palm down on his abdomen and trails it upwards. He guides you to caress his throat- fingers dancing along his Adam’s apple before he brings your hand to his face- nuzzling his cheek into your palm.

“N-need all of you.” He whines, teeth nipping at the skin of your palm. “H-he can get himself off.” Nam-Gyu spits, eyes darting over to Thanos. “T-touch me please….fuck I need it…” He says, his voice a pathetic tone that has you gushing around his thick cock that he grinds up into you.

Thanos wants to be angry, he wants to call Nam-Gyu out for being selfish and greedy- but truly the scene before him was one of the hottest he’s ever seen. He could easily get himself off. He scoffs and grips his cock shuffling closer to jerk himself off over your tits that bounce with the every one of Nam-gyu’s thrusts.

You turn your attention to Nam-gyu, this time fully, with one hand being held by him near his cheek you take your other hand and trail it up and down his torso, feeling each muscle tighten under your touch. “S-so fuckin’ pretty. F-fuck! Jus’ use me, fucking use me.” He pleads, fingernails biting crescent moon shapes into the plush of your hips. Gathering your strength you being to ride him, lifting your hips and slamming them back down.

“That’s it, f-fuck yes feels so fuckin good. Ride me jus’ like that.” He praises, abs tensing as you roll your hips in devious patterns that make him think your part succubus. “Oh fuck ‘m gonna cum.” Nam-gyu whines, eyes screwing shut and head tilting heavenward as he tries to hold on as long as he can- he doesn’t want this to end.

“Make a mess of him sweetheart.” Thanos urges, making you continue to ride Nam-gyu with reckless abandon despite the burning in your thighs. “Pretty pussy of yours gonna make him cum quick.”

Nam-gyu lets out a shuddering breath, one hand reaching between the two of you to thumb circles on your clit. Both of you let out high pitched moans. As he thumbs at your clit he can feel the way you tighten and twitch around him. “O-oh my f-fucking god.” He says, breathless in a sentence that was part laugh part gasp.

You’re close too. Admittedly, teasing Nam-Gyu and seeing this new side of him, seeing him so needy has had you worked up more than you cared to admit. And despite how sloppy his thrusts had become, every time you drive your hips down to meet his thrusts, the tip of his cock presses right against that sweet spot that has your body beginning to bloom with warmth.

“You gonna c-cum?” Nam-gyu looks up at you eyebrows upturned. It’s like he’s begging for you to cum, begging for the feeling of your cunt squeezing his dick like a fluttering vice. You can only nod and let out a breathless ‘uh-huh’, your eyes flicking between the sweet view of Nam-Gyu under you, fucked out and eyes watering and then towards Thanos- lip caught between his teeth as his hand furiously works against his dick.

Normally he wouldn’t be content with just himself, just his own hand. But the way Nam-Gyu is practically sobbing your name, letting out babbled praises of your cunt like it’s a nirvana he keeps driving into with each thrust and the way you are fucking him to tears- the man he normally dominates you with- diminished to a whining mess. Oh yeah. It’s his personal porn. He loves it. “You’re fuckin’ him stupid, ridin’ him so good.” Thanos mumbles as your eyes connect.

“F-fuck no. E-eyes on me. Wanna see your face when you cum.” Nam-gyu says through gritted teeth, a shaky hand reaching up to grab your chin and force you to look at him. “I’m so close, p-pretty. Wanna cum inside s-so fuckin bad, pleaseeee.” The last word is drawn out, syllables jolting with the violent upwards thrust of his cock into your sopping heat.

“Yes! I-inside!” It’s a broken plea, but it’s all he needs before he’s sobbing out your name, head kicking back on the pillows as he fucks into you with reckless abandon. Nam-gyu’s thumb works overtime at your clit, spreading the mess of your arousal around the puffy bud. “G-gonna f-fill you up, ohmygod, so fuckin good for me. Fuck thankyouthankyouthankyou.” Slurred words fall from his lips in nearly incoherent whines as he cums.

You can feel every thick rope of his cum fill you up, coating your insides and leaving his mark for anyone else who would dare to fuck you other than him or Thanos (not that you would ever- you love them too much). It’s so much that it seeps out of you, puddling at the base of his dick and creating thick white strings every time you lift yourself back up and down to fuck him through his orgasm.

The sinful visual that plays in front of Thanos and his hand working his aching cock sends him over the edge soon after Nam-Gyu cums. The warmth of his release hits your chest, marking you in a warm sticky web of white. His head is tipped back towards the ceiling, strings of expletives falling from his lips as he milks himself for every last drop he has, savoring the feeling and the visual of the image before him.

Of course, you can’t hold on either- you cum in succession with the two males. It hits you hard, lighting up your body in a white hot heat. “Y-yeah that’s it, fuck yes, cum all over this fuckin’ cock.. need to feel you fuck, please.” Nam-gyu nearly sobs, hands gripping at the plush fat of your hips to slam you down his cock. Your release gushes out of you, making even more of a mess between the two of you, a slick schlick schlick schlick sound echos as Nam-Gyu tries his best to fuck you through your orgasm despite his own overstimulation.

Your body vibrates, “Oh fuck!!”, it’s a broken cry as you ride out your orgasm, chest heaving. When you come down, breath evening out, you look down at Nam-Gyu then over to Thanos. Thanos chuckles breathlessly, the hand that wasn’t jerking himself off reaches up to brush your hair that was matted to your face with sweat. “He fuck you good, sweets?”

You laugh, nodding and letting out a tired ‘mhm’. Nam-Gyu lets out a sigh that shifts into a soft chuckle, hand coming to slap your ass in praise for your work. “Fuck….” He breathes, “thank you, pretty.” His dark eyes turn back down towards you. Nam-gyu’s hands run up your ass to find purchase on the small of your back, pulling you forward.

You squeal and place your hands on his chest, trying to fight his pull of you into him. “I’m all covered in cum! C’mon let me shower first and then we can cuddle.” You protest. It’s for nothing, Nam-Gyu is much stronger than you and pulls you down into his chest with ease. You can feel the mess of Thanos’ cum on your chest smear between you and Nam-gyu as you’re laid on top of him, back arched as you lay down fully.

“When has being covered in cum ever been a problem?” Nam-gyu says placing soft kisses on your shoulder. “Plus, it only makes sense to shower after we’re done.” Thanos says, shifting on the bed- you can feel him but can’t see him.

“H-huh?” You ask confused, you guys definitely all just finished. Jokes on you for ever thinking they be satiated with just one release.

Large tattooed hands palm at the globes of your ass, pushing up and spreading you wide for him, “S-Subong!” The surprise movement taking you so off guard that his real name falls from your lips. You can hear a chuckle reverberate from behind you.

Thanos watches as Nam-gyu’s release drips out of you into thick, creamy white globs. He can’t help himself, he’s burring his face into your cunt, tongue diving deep and lapping at Nam-gyu’s cum that coats your insides. You jolt against Nam-Gyu who only chuckles in your ear and tightens his grip, holding you still for the purple haired man.

“Oh we’re far from done. ‘Gyu here was fuckin’ selfish and I’m getting my fill of you.”

Hi loves 🥺🥺🥺 missed you guys!!! I hope you guys enjoy this again I am SOOOOOO sorry for being inactive. I’m still writing for squid games and working (very slowly) through requests.

Thank you guys for your continued support even with my inactivity. It literally means the world and is the reason I have the willpower to comeback and write!!! Love yall !! - <3 kiwi