#you can just TELL that his family loves him from that name

[luvcaleb]

GOOD GIRL.

nsfw (18+). includes pseudocest/incest, corruption kink, some dubious consent, dirty talk, fingering, cunnilingulus, blowjob, protected sex and unprotected sex, porn ahh plot, caleb is part-time yearner full-time freak i fear, mc might not be a brotherfucker but caleb is definitely a sisterfucker thus this fic was born lmao, i am almost ashamed of the filth i created. fic is set in their student days. likes and reblogs will be very appreciated !!

perverted big brother!caleb who's probably more touchy with you than what is considered appropriate between “family.” his arm that's perpetually wrapped around your waist; his fingers sliding up your bare thigh when he tells you, “don't you think your skirt is too short? go change.”; his hand just an inch shy of squeezing your chest during nights you cuddle to sleep because you're too scared to sleep alone.

perverted big brother!caleb who you catch watching porn, his door cracked open just enough for you to hear his deep grunts and the slick noises his fleshlight makes when he pulls it down his huge cock. the girl on his laptop is loud and whiny, wailing as she's nailed to the mattress — “gege, gege, no more, i can't” — and when caleb cums, you swear he says your name.

perverted big brother!caleb who comes home earlier than he told you he would and sees you at the living room rubbing frustrated circles on your clit, struggling to fit a finger inside your cunt because you're not wet enough. so he pulls you into his lap, tunes out your exclaims of surprise, and says he'll teach you something good.

ten minutes later, you're gushing all over his pants, stuffed with three big fingers, clawing at his biceps and telling him “no more, i can't cum anymore, gege please.” yet caleb simply shushes you, chin tucked over your shoulder to admire how you squirt on his hand. “shh, you can do it. gege's gonna make you cum again.”

perverted big brother!caleb who teaches you other things that feel good as a reward when you answer the workbooks he gives you correctly. at one tutoring session, he played with your tits, licking and sucking at a bud and flicking the other. the last time, he rubbed you all over as he fucked his cock between your thighs, wet and sloppy with lube.

today, he pulls your legs apart, grabs the back of your knees, and puts his mouth to work. he makes out with your clit, licking under the hood, lightly grazes your skin with his teeth; you cream around his tongue when he shoves it inside your cunt. he sounds absolutely depraved, moaning as he drinks up the nectar from your sweet pussy, grinding his hard cock to the sheets.

it's then that he learns he loves eating you out. the next day, he makes you sit on his face, his nose bumping against your clit as his tongue laps away at your slick, fucking up his dick into his fist.

perverted big brother!caleb who teaches you how to suck cock under your silly pretense of “practicing for your future boyfriend.” he guides his dick into your mouth, gentle in spite of his thinly veiled anger and jealousy, and he teases you for having difficulty swallowing him in because your mouth is too small when in reality he's the one who's too damn big. he gives you filthy praise when you do something right, caressing your cheek as he groans his approval. “shit, it feels good when you suck the tip, mn... you better not have learned that from anyone else, pipsqueak.”

perverted big brother!caleb who takes away your virginity before anyone else can. he doesn't bring it up first — he makes you want it. sure, he stuffs your cunt with his fingers, licks all the sensitive spots on your body. he rubs his cock over your pussy and lets you give him a blowjob. but he never puts it in. so when you beg him — “gege, just the tip, please” — he doesn't make an effort to resist your request.

he lays you down on his bed, just like he's dreamed for so many years, and tears open a condom he prepared in advance. he pushes the head inside, and the tight heat of your pussy almost makes him cum on the spot. it's better than he ever imagined; so much better than his cold, pathetic fleshlight that he imagines was you. he thrusts in a slow, careful pace, watching you squirm over a single inch of his cock, and he bites back a grin as he fucks a few more centimeters every other thrust.

eventually, it reaches a point you feel utterly full, far more cored open than the first moment he slid inside you. “g-ge, that's more than just the tip...” you whine, pressing down on the slight bulge peeking out of your stomach. he merely smiles playfully before slamming home, the entire length of his cock fucking into your pussy in one, smooth thrust. “yeah. feels good, doesn't it?”

perverted big brother!caleb who takes every opportunity gran isn't home to have sex with his cute sister. not that he doesn't fuck you when she's home; it just means that neither of you has to sneak into the other's bedroom late at night, and you don't have to hide your voice anymore. now, he has you laid over the edge of the dining table, pulling your hips back onto his cock. he's always thought this table was the perfect height for him to fuck your pussy while he's standing. “you like this, pips?” he pants, enjoying the garbled moans that spill from your lips. “you like being your gege's fleshlight?”

at that, something clear sprays out of your cunt, soaking his abs wet. he chuckles darkly, thumb swiping over your clit to make you squirt more, making a bigger mess that pools at the floor beneath you. “you like being my fleshlight that much, huh? then i'll use your pussy as much as i want.”

perverted big brother!caleb who has lots of friends but he always declines their offers to hang out because he'd rather be with you. you know this because he seemingly always gets a call whenever you're in the middle of things. of course, the fucker answers the call in speaker, and you have to take extra care not letting your voice out because he's still pounding away at your pussy. “hm? gideon? sorry, i'm kind of busy. my sister needed help with something. want to say hi?”

you glare at him, but he only sets his phone beside your head, smirking in mischief. “h-hey, gideon, it's been a while. what? no, i'm totally f— ah— fine! just feeling a bit unwell, haha... hn... y-yeah, gege is taking care of me— ah...!”

once you let a moan slip, he immediately ends the call, smothering your lips with a kiss. “c'mon, princess, you couldn't hold it in? i'm the only who can hear you like this... mmph... stick out your tongue more...”

perverted big brother!caleb who gets jealous easily. when a boy gets too flirty with you, he gives them a withering glare. sometimes, you play along with the flirting just to see him get angry. later that day, the trip home would be silent, but the moment you're inside your house, he has you pinned on the door, his lips latching on your neck to suck a dark red hickey marking his territory. you don't get to move away from that spot for a long, long time — first, he wraps your legs around his waist as he thrusts inside you, then he fucks you from behind, your face pressing against the door and his hand around your mouth so you don't get too noisy. the sound of his hips slamming against your ass is almost deafening, and he takes a mental note to clean up the mess you squirted on the floor when you're done.

once he used up all the condoms he has on him, he doesn't bother bringing you to his room to get more. he fucks you raw, and now you feel every angry vein on his bare cock, sliding against your sweet spots. “should've done this from the start, fuck... your sweet pussy feels so much better... you like this better too, right? i bet you pulled that shit earlier because you wanted me to be rough with you.” he manages to pull out when he feels his release approaching, his cum spraying all over your torso as he kisses you, but you almost wish he hadn't.

perverted big brother!caleb who realizes late he's turned you into a cockslut. you visit his room more often, and even started taking birth control so he could cum inside. it's not like he'll ever turn you away, but tonight, he's feeling especially playful. “hm... i'm tired today, so i'm not feeling up to it right now. but it's fine if you're the one moving this time.”

this results in him leisurely laying on his bed, arms behind his head. he takes great pleasure in seeing you grind your bare pussy on his hardening cock, slathering your juices to make it wet. once you found it sufficiently lubed, you raised your hips, gripping the base of his dick to slowly drop on it. you've made it this far, but you're still quite shy — you take a long time pushing half of it inside you, so he decides to give you a little help and thrusts his hips upward. you gasp when all of it is slammed into you, leaning back and resting your hands on his thighs, your body in an enticing arch that presents your bouncing tits. “ah, gege, wait, that's too sudden—”

he rubs your engorged clit as you roll your hips on top of him, dropping your hips and getting back up to reach that deep spot inside. you're drooling, eyes almost rolled back, and it takes all his patience not to push you down and fuck you stupid. “what a great view. tell me, when did you become such a whore, pips? where did you learn how to do this?” he massages your tits, pulling at the nubs. “you said you liked being my fleshlight, but at this point, you're just using me to masturbate. do you like that? do you like using gege's cock as your personal dildo?”

“hng— ah— no...!”

“there's no need to be shy. c'mon, say it. you love gege's cock.”

“i... ahh...” you lose strength in your arms, collapsing in a heap over his chest. he immediately wraps his arms around you, patting your head soothingly. “gege... i love gege... i love you so much, gege... mn, haa...!”

the world comes to a stop. his brain takes a while to process your words, but you don't let him stay too long in his thoughts. you're still humping against him, whining desperately for him to move because you've gotten tired. for a moment, he even considers the possibility he was just hearing things. but there's no hiding the quick, racing heartbeat he feels pressed against his chest, matching his very own.

you love gege.

he moves his hand to cup your cheek, meeting your dazed eyes. they gain clarity when he softly kisses your forehead, an innocent peck that starkly contrasts everything you've been doing. “gege loves you too,” he utters gently, making sure you hear it loud and clear. “gege loves you the most in the world.”

[reignpage]

How the JJK men react to you being in a coma

Satoru is devastated

It’s a deadly silence that envelopes you as he carries you to safety, face stone cold and grip tight. Even as you’re being patched up, laid down on a hospital bed, he doesn’t say a word. Just stares and watches every bruise fade, every wound heal, and for the heaviness in your limbs to wash away. But your eyes don’t open. No one says the obvious. 

Lying on the bed with you, he cradles your head to his chest and whispers, “This is the closest to losing you I ever want to get.”

You’re practically locked away after that. He takes over your teaching duties, and he works overtime to ensure the area is as safe as can be whilst you recover, intent on making sure that when you wake up, all you have to do is make it up to him with hugs and kisses. Every curse that runs into him faces a slow and brutal death as he takes out every ounce of his pain on them. None of it is enough. No number of curses slain will bring you to consciousness. For every hour you slumber, Satoru loses sleep.

"I always knew you like to nap but this is just excessive, sweets. Leave some beauty for the rest of us, yeah?"

No one has ever seen him more serious.

"Please?"

Suguru is motivated

You weren’t supposed to get hurt. You weren’t supposed to be there at all. Finding you, lying in a puddle of your own blood send shivers of wrath coursing through his veins. It was them. Those filthy monkeys. Seeing you barely able to open your eyes is a kind of pain only non-sorcerers could cause.

As you sleep life away, he busies himself with plans, double checking everything is airtight and all will proceed as expected. He can’t let you get hurt again. He won’t let them hurt you again. “Hi, pretty girl. I’ve been gone, haven’t I? I’m sorry.”

You're taken care of by Nana and Mimi and every single shaky smile they hide from him steels his resolve even further.

"Yes, I think that colour suits her well. She always did love when you painted her nails. Why don't you do mine too? We can all match."

Manoeuvring you onto his chest, he pretends you’re merely napping. He decides, there and then, he’ll do whatever it takes to ensure that the world you wake up to is one that’s safe for you, for your family, for your future.

Even if that world is devoid of him. 

Choso is panicked

He’s fussing, hands flying as he warns them to be careful of you. Every lack of sound of pain, of agony, and anguish from you makes him pull on his hair harder. You’ve always been the stronger one out of the two of you, so to see you limp, weak and silenced, sends his newfound heart racing. Even when it’s just the two of you, he runs around the house, fluffing up your pillow, getting you a glass of water, placing a warm towel on your forehead. 

“I don’t know what to do. You’re supposed to be the one who tells me what to do.”

Putting more hours sparring, he pushes his body to the limit, dedicated to getting stronger and better. He wants to protect you. To make sure you’re never in this position again. And though he’s always wanted to experience every part of being a human, grief is something he can do without. 

"I'll be fine, Yuji. Hit me harder. I can take it. No, I have to. Y/n needs me. I'm no good to her like this."

Toji is terrified

This can’t be happening again. He can’t lose someone else again. Someone so special to him, who taught him how to love again, to live and to know it’s okay to want more. "You promised you'd never put me in this position. You fucking promised."

You’re safer without him. You have people to take care of you. He'll only get in the way.

Leaving is the hardest thing he’s ever done. Every step feels like needles are pricking his feet, stabbing him in the heart somehow. He barely makes it a mile before his thoughts drift to you and stay there.

He thinks about you, weak and recovering. What if you wake up and no one’s there? Not a single family member or friend. He thinks about how you’ll croak his name, force your body up and search the house for him, limping. He imagines your legs will give up on you and you’ll fall, hurting yourself more.

The thought steals his breath and knocks him back. Rushing home, he drops his getaway bag and creeps into bed, holding you gently against him. 

“I’m here. I’m here, ma. I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”

Kento is ruined

His wife. His beautiful wife, losing the light in your eyes as he holds you. Gone is your smile, your warm touch and is instead replaced with shivering and shallow breaths. The noise that comes out of him is guttural and broken. "Oh, d-darling. Look at this mess. Let's get you cleaned up, alright?"

You’re alive but sleeping. And he doesn’t know when you’ll wake. It feels as if you’re floating in that space between the world of the living and the dead, and he wants to follow. 

He never leaves your side. He freshens the flower by your bedside table, keeps a tight schedule of visitors. None of them can touch you, they can’t speak too loudly and they can’t complain by your ear about their personal lives — he only wants you to be surrounded by positive energy. 

“You’ll wake up soon, won’t you, sweetheart? Yes. Yes, you will because you always take care of me. You’ll tell me off for not shaving, for not eating and for pushing everyone away, wouldn’t you?"

Maintaining your routine, he washes your face, puts on face masks, and reads aloud by your side, hoping that a particularly dramatic prose will provoke a reaction from you.

"I need my wife. I need you. What am I supposed to do without you? Won’t you open your eyes for me? For your Kento?”

Sukuna is confused

He’s in disbelief as he's ushered into the room where you rest. Everyone is in a state of disarray and for what, he has no idea. You’re merely sleeping. He pokes your cheek. “Wake up, woman. Tell these pathetic fools to stop their useless quivering.”

When you don’t, he frowns. Brows furrowing, he tilts his head and examines your body. You’re breathing and he can hear your heart beating, and yet you don’t respond to his commands.

How insolent.

Waving the peasants away, he shakes your shoulder. “Your king has given an order. Follow it immediately or face punishment”

Even once he has it explained to him, he can’t wrap his head around the concept of you sleeping indefinitely, though he’s once gone through it himself. You’re different. Better. You’re supposed to be filled with endless optimism and energy. You’re supposed to be bothering him about smiling, pulling him to the garden to look at a flower he’s seen before.

"Humans really are f-fragile creatures. Ridiculous."

Tutting, he rolls his eyes and grumbles about how you’re not even making space for him on the bed. There, lying with you, he can do nothing but slumber and wait for your soul to reignite, sparking his once more.

[seitmai]

Many thoughts

He hummed and decided it was perfectly acceptable to interrupt your jaunt with his presence. “Hey! Up so early?” He asks as he tries to match your pace from a standstill “could ask you the same.” You reply bluntly “well I wanted to get a run in before-” “well there’s your answer.” You reply, cutting him off. “You run really quick.” He says as you try to keep your pace increasing to shake him off “goodbye, Bradshaw.” You say, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes and taking off at a pace he couldn’t sustain. He just stops and shakes his head smiling, you were funny.

This is hilarious 😅

“Oh look my chick is back.” You mumble sarcastically and Bradley laughs loudly at you. “You love me really” he says, looking at you as if he wanted to you agree with him “you seem to keep telling yourself that, don’t you?”

He is manifesting 🤭

“What?” You ask, finally turning to look at him. “What?” He repeats, looking at you with raised brows “you want to ask me something. You’re fidgeting.” You point out “so ask me or fuck off” you say, turning away again. “Your last name is Mitchell” he says and you roll your eyes “you can read and hear. Two things I’ve learnt today.” You huff, again, with sarcasm. “Are you related to Pete Mitchell?” He asks, looking at you and nearly holding his breath “you finally put two and two together?” You ask and he lets out the breath.

I love her no nonsense attitude

“Yeah, he’s my dad.” You say after a while “I was a whoopsie baby my mother didn’t want anything to do with” you tell him. “He used to fly with my dad.” Bradley almost whispers, voice just a few octaves above. “I know” you nod “he’s practically wallpapered all over our hanger.” You say “so are you” you eye him. “He pulled my papers” he says, again after a few moments of silence “I know” you say “do you know why?” He asks “yes.” You reply, and he could tell you weren’t going to elaborate. “Y’know I’m not a fan of your dad, but I really like you.” He says and you just look at him with a blank face. “Yup” you hum to yourself and he raises a brow “just as Mother Goose was described” you say, and Bradley’s face immediately lights up with a huge grin, stretching and arm around you and pulling you into his side. “Get off me.” “Yup, yep, sorry.”

This playful tension between them is so so good 😍

“1. Haywood & Solomons, 2. Hughes & Shelley & Omaha, 3. Cooper & Parker & Cromwell & Smith, 4. Bradshaw,” you crossed your fingers as someone read out the names, then yours was read alongside Bradley’s “oh for god’s sake” you grumble, turning to see Bradley practically jumping for joy. “This is great! Me and you, Hen!” Rooster cheers and you just stare at him “should’ve called you leech cause you’re acting like one. Calm down.” You instruct and he tries to chill out, but the cheeky smile on his face was indiminishagble.

Bradley is very much not chill about it, he is overjoyed and he can barely hide it 😅

“Do you want a family?” He ask and you just nod “really?” Hawk asks “that’s cute, didn’t take you for a family gal” he jokes and you harshly kick his leg under the table “kids and everything?” He asks after the pain subsides. “Yup.” You say and Bradley hums “I didn’t know that” he says and you just look at him “you never asked.” You reply simply, and that was true: he hadn’t. He was quite prepared to spend the rest of existence chasing after you, whether that meant giving you your first kiss on your deathbeds.

Bradley is so deeply in love and he will happily live with whatever crumbs Hen gives him😅🤭

“Congratulations!” Bradley says excitedly on graduation day when you victoriously lifted the trophy above your head. You turned to him and he leant down slightly - you weren’t stupid, you knew what he was intending to do. “Thank you, Brad.” You say, turning to walk over to where your father was stood - knowing that was probably the only time Bradley wouldn’t follow you. That was the first time you’d ever called him anything short of Bradley Bradshaw.

There had to be a special occasion to call him even close to his government name 😂

“I’m so proud of you honey” your dad says, hugging you tightly and you embrace him back, smiling widely “thank you, dad” you respond and he looks behind you where Bradley was stood a while back, watching the ordeal. “Is that-” “yes” you tell him and your dad just looks at you “I wouldn’t get all teary he follows me like a lost puppy” you grumble but he just grins “he’s a good kid, hon.” He says and you shake your head “he’s definitely something”

Something hmm👀

“So how does their relationship work?” Bob asks Hangman, watching Bradley talk your ear off and you just staring ahead into space, blankly. “You see Bobby my boy,” Jake begins “Hen loves her personal space” Bob nods “Rooster also loves Hen’s personal space.” Bob nods again, now understanding. “Haven’t they done everything together though?” He asks “I think it’s more the fact that Hen does something and Rooster just kinda goes with it” Phoenix said and Bob hums, as Bradley continues to converse one-sidedly with you.

This is too good 😂

“He means well” you hear from beside you as you stare out from the hanger, turning to see your honorary uncle Tom walking towards you, you run towards him as he embraces you tightly “hey Ice” you smile, sweetly. “Hey sweetheart” he croaks. “I mean what I said.” He states and you raise a brow “he means well” he nods towards the man doing his required push ups on the ground with Hondo. “I know, Ice.” You tell him. “No, I don’t think you do” he hums and you raise your eyebrows at him. “The kids in love with you. You’ve either got to let him in or tell him to get out.” He says, “you’re living together for goodness sake”. “It was cheaper” you argue “we both know the accommodation is subsidised.”

Saving money on accommodations is a great and valid argument though, there are worse roommates 🤷🏻‍♀️

It was true, you and Bradley were sharing accommodation. “Hey Hen, they’ve offered us shared accommodation back in Miramar” Bradley says, coming over with a pamphlet. “Why?” You ask, taking it out of his hands. ‘Married couple accommodation’ it states and you raise your brows “you getting ahead of yourself, Bradshaw?” You ask and he shakes his head “the guy assumed our callsigns were cause we’re a couple” he tells you and you just hum.

Oh and Bradley wouldn’t dare to correct him, manifesting and all 🤭

You take a moment of hesitation, before loudly groaning and heading out onto the tarmac, getting down and doing push ups alongside Rooster. He turns his head and looks at you and you just raise your brows at him. “Hey honey” he grins “hello Bradley” he nudges your hip with his own. “I’ll drive us home.” You tell him, and he raises his eyebrows “Home?” He asks and you huff “okay, Bradley I will drive the two of us back to our shared accommodation that we accidentally got given.” You say and he laughs loudly “home sounded better.”

I am obsessed with their banter 😍

“How about this one? Beach front, close to the running track for you. Only a walk from the Hard Deck. White picket fence, really” he hums, turning the laptop again “garden?” You ask and he nods “garden.” He nods with a grin. “Shall we go look?” You ask and he raises a brow at you. “You said it’s a walk from the hard deck. Let’s go.” You say, putting the address into your phone and immediately recognising the street name, Bradley quickly falling into step with you as you walk towards the property.

Like a lost puppy always behind Hen 🤭👀

“Obviously the kitchen, living room, even a deck out back with a huge garden and high fences” she says nodding out the window and you hum. “Out the side there’s an entrance straight to the beach” she motions, then starts heading up the stairs “three bedrooms, attic space, bathroom” she says “I’m guessing it’s just you two at the moment?” She asks “oh we’re not-” Bradley begins “yes, just us.” You confirm, shutting him up. “Okay, so there’s a large room for your bed and then if any new additions are to join, you have the space for them” she smiles and leads you back out front.

I feel like Bradley's manifesting is slowly working 👀

“It’s not cheap, it’s California. So I understand if you’re not prepared to pay that much money, do you mind me asking what you do?” She asks “we’re naval aviators.” Bradley says “stationed here?” She asks and you both nod “ah! I get why you’re looking for a property here!” She says and Bradley looks at you. “I really like it, Roo.” You say, and Bradley has to stop his jaw hitting the floor at your nickname. “It’s your call, honey” he says and you look at the lady and smile as she offers her hand “we’ll take it.”

Just for the nickname alone Bradley would have bought the house probably 🤭

“Where’ve you two been?” Hangman asks “we bought a house.”

Ahaha iconic answer

One evening, after you were all moved in and were hanging out at the Hard Deck after a long day or routine flying, you were sat outside with Rooster; watching the sunset. “When are we getting married then?” You ask and he spits out his beer “what?” He asks, eyes wide and getting progressively more giddy.

He is probably pinching himself because this is his dream come true 🤭🥹

“Well we live together, we have a joint bank account, and Jake keeps telling me we’re practically married. So when are we getting married?” You ask as he hugs you tightly “whenever you want, baby” he says, kissing the top of your head and pulling a ring out of his pocket to get on his knee. “Will you marry me?” He asks and you raise a brow “didn’t I just say that?” You ask bluntly “just say yes, please” he begs and you nod “yes. Yes I will marry you, Bradley Bradshaw.” You confirm as he kisses your lips gently.

🥰🥰🥰

I am absolutely OBSESSED with them 😍👏🏻

Personal Space

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x reader

Summary: you love your personal space. Unfortunately, Bradley also loves your personal space.

Pt. 2

You never understood why Bradley stuck around. Since the academy you’d preferred to stick to yourself; get your head down and get the job done. Especially with a surname like Mitchell. You didn’t want your father and grandfather’s reputation to negatively proceed you, and by the time people had put two and two together as to whom loins you came from: you’d made your own reputation so Maverick never made much of a difference to it.

But still, having dinner in the mess you’d sat down, when someone came and thudded down next to you and began eating themselves. “I’m Bradley” he said when you finally looked up at him. You raised a brow “Bradshaw?” You ask and he nods: you recognise him from the photos your dad pinned up in your two’s hanger. You hum “and you are?” He asks “not important.” You reply, deciding you’d lost your appetite and stood to clear your plate “good talk!” Bradley said, but you were already walking away.

He’d next encountered you when you were running around the academy, early morning; before any naval training would take place. He hummed and decided it was perfectly acceptable to interrupt your jaunt with his presence. “Hey! Up so early?” He asks as he tries to match your pace from a standstill “could ask you the same.” You reply bluntly “well I wanted to get a run in before-” “well there’s your answer.” You reply, cutting him off. “You run really quick.” He says as you try to keep your pace increasing to shake him off “goodbye, Bradshaw.” You say, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes and taking off at a pace he couldn’t sustain. He just stops and shakes his head smiling, you were funny.

Eventually, you’d both gotten up in the air and were quick to earn your callsigns “Rooster” and “Hen”. Bradley earned his because he was up before the chickens, you’d earned yours because the chicken kept fucking following you around like you were his mother. You were sat on the aircraft carrier, your trainee group learning how to land on a ship deck and you’d finally gotten a moment of peace that evening. You sat on the edge of the deck, feet dangling over the edge as you watched the sunset, not moving when you hear someone slip into the space between the barriers beside you.

“Oh look my chick is back.” You mumble sarcastically and Bradley laughs loudly at you. “You love me really” he says, looking at you as if he wanted to you agree with him “you seem to keep telling yourself that, don’t you?” You hum, turning to watch the sea lap against the grey metal. You can feel him fidgeting beside you, as if antsy to say something. “What?” You ask, finally turning to look at him. “What?” He repeats, looking at you with raised brows “you want to ask me something. You’re fidgeting.” You point out “so ask me or fuck off” you say, turning away again. “Your last name is Mitchell” he says and you roll your eyes “you can read and hear. Two things I’ve learnt today.” You huff, again, with sarcasm. “Are you related to Pete Mitchell?” He asks, looking at you and nearly holding his breath “you finally put two and two together?” You ask and he lets out the breath.

“Yeah, he’s my dad.” You say after a while “I was a whoopsie baby my mother didn’t want anything to do with” you tell him. “He used to fly with my dad.” Bradley almost whispers, voice just a few octaves above. “I know” you nod “he’s practically wallpapered all over our hanger.” You say “so are you” you eye him. “He pulled my papers” he says, again after a few moments of silence “I know” you say “do you know why?” He asks “yes.” You reply, and he could tell you weren’t going to elaborate. “Y’know I’m not a fan of your dad, but I really like you.” He says and you just look at him with a blank face. “Yup” you hum to yourself and he raises a brow “just as Mother Goose was described” you say, and Bradley’s face immediately lights up with a huge grin, stretching and arm around you and pulling you into his side.

“Get off me.” “Yup, yep, sorry.”

For your first deployment, the academy set it up that you’d at least be with one person from your training squadron, and today the list of names were coming out; they were scribbled on the back of a napkin and pinned to a notice board.

“1. Haywood & Solomons, 2. Hughes & Shelley & Omaha, 3. Cooper & Parker & Cromwell & Smith, 4. Bradshaw,” you crossed your fingers as someone read out the names, then yours was read alongside Bradley’s “oh for god’s sake” you grumble, turning to see Bradley practically jumping for joy. “This is great! Me and you, Hen!” Rooster cheers and you just stare at him “should’ve called you leech cause you’re acting like one. Calm down.” You instruct and he tries to chill out, but the cheeky smile on his face was indiminishagble.

He only became more unbearable then, with you every working hour, your wingman on the missions you’d fly, inseparable despite your complaints. “Where’s your boyfriend?” Hawk asked you, as he came to sit with you for lunch. You shush him loudly. “Woah woah I only asked where he was.” “Speak his name and he shows up. I’m trying to hide.” you say in a hushed voice “plus he isn’t my boyfriend” “sure” he scoffs but the daggers being shot into his head silenced him easily.

“Hey Hen! Hawk” Bradley greets as he sits down. You grunt and point an accusatory finger at Hawk “this is your fault, jackass” you say and he laughs at you, him and Bradley engage in conversation as you just eat, having learnt the skill of drowning him out. “What about you, Hen?” Hawk asked, drawing your attention away from your plate and up to the two men alongside you, you raise an eyebrow - letting them know you were insinuating that you weren’t listening to their conversation.

“Do you want a family?” He ask and you just nod “really?” Hawk asks “that’s cute, didn’t take you for a family gal” he jokes and you harshly kick his leg under the table “kids and everything?” He asks after the pain subsides. “Yup.” You say and Bradley hums “I didn’t know that” he says and you just look at him “you never asked.” You reply simply, and that was true: he hadn’t. He was quite prepared to spend the rest of existence chasing after you, whether that meant giving you your first kiss on your deathbeds.

The two of you even went to Top Gun together, training to be the finest naval aviators of them all. And boy, you two fought to be the best; tongue and teeth, blood sweat and tears, everything. The decision came down to one final dogfight. “May the best aviator win” Rooster jokes, sticking out a hand to you. You eye it and internally question if you were insane, before leaning up to peck his cheek. “Prepare to loose, chicken.” You say, leaving him frozen in his place while you head to your plane. That day, Bradley was seriously off his A-game, and you came out on top.

A Mitchell finally Top Gun.

“Congratulations!” Bradley says excitedly on graduation day when you victoriously lifted the trophy above your head. You turned to him and he leant down slightly - you weren’t stupid, you knew what he was intending to do. “Thank you, Brad.” You say, turning to walk over to where your father was stood - knowing that was probably the only time Bradley wouldn’t follow you. That was the first time you’d ever called him anything short of Bradley Bradshaw.

“I’m so proud of you honey” your dad says, hugging you tightly and you embrace him back, smiling widely “thank you, dad” you respond and he looks behind you where Bradley was stood a while back, watching the ordeal. “Is that-” “yes” you tell him and your dad just looks at you “I wouldn’t get all teary he follows me like a lost puppy” you grumble but he just grins “he’s a good kid, hon.” He says and you shake your head “he’s definitely something”

“So how does their relationship work?” Bob asks Hangman, watching Bradley talk your ear off and you just staring ahead into space, blankly. “You see Bobby my boy,” Jake begins “Hen loves her personal space” Bob nods “Rooster also loves Hen’s personal space.” Bob nods again, now understanding. “Haven’t they done everything together though?” He asks “I think it’s more the fact that Hen does something and Rooster just kinda goes with it” Phoenix said and Bob hums, as Bradley continues to converse one-sidedly with you.

“He means well” you hear from beside you as you stare out from the hanger, turning to see your honorary uncle Tom walking towards you, you run towards him as he embraces you tightly “hey Ice” you smile, sweetly. “Hey sweetheart” he croaks. “I mean what I said.” He states and you raise a brow “he means well” he nods towards the man doing his required push ups on the ground with Hondo. “I know, Ice.” You tell him. “No, I don’t think you do” he hums and you raise your eyebrows at him. “The kids in love with you. You’ve either got to let him in or tell him to get out.” He says, “you’re living together for goodness sake”. “It was cheaper” you argue “we both know the accommodation is subsidised.” He states, matter-of-factly, patting your shoulder as he turns to go talk to your dad when he walks into the room.

It was true, you and Bradley were sharing accommodation. “Hey Hen, they’ve offered us shared accommodation back in Miramar” Bradley says, coming over with a pamphlet. “Why?” You ask, taking it out of his hands. ‘Married couple accommodation’ it states and you raise your brows “you getting ahead of yourself, Bradshaw?” You ask and he shakes his head “the guy assumed our callsigns were cause we’re a couple” he tells you and you just hum. “Well I’d rather stay there than in an apartment.” You say simply, giving him back the leaflet and refocusing on the plane you were working on repairing. “Seriously?” He asks, voice overly hopeful. You look at him and shrug “just go get the damn house, Bradshaw. Before I change my mind!” You say and he grins, turning and breaking out into almost a jog to head to confirm your living situation.

You take a moment of hesitation, before loudly groaning and heading out onto the tarmac, getting down and doing push ups alongside Rooster. He turns his head and looks at you and you just raise your brows at him. “Hey honey” he grins “hello Bradley” he nudges your hip with his own. “I’ll drive us home.” You tell him, and he raises his eyebrows “Home?” He asks and you huff “okay, Bradley I will drive the two of us back to our shared accommodation that we accidentally got given.” You say and he laughs loudly “home sounded better.”

Then after the mission, the whole Dagger squad got permanently stationed in San Diego, other than deployment, so they urged the new additions to the base to buy their own properties closer to base rather than on it. You and Bradley were sat in the Hard Deck, a long time before it was open, the rest of the Daggers spending time on the beach while the two of you were scouring Bradley’s laptop for a property. Well, Bradley was.

How about this one? He turns his screen to you. You shake your head “I want grass in the garden. I want to plant flowers” you say as you point at the paved back of the house, explaining that it’s a waste of money to have it ripped out. Bradley nods “Mkay, garden” he says, moving back to look again.

“How about this one? Beach front, close to the running track for you. Only a walk from the Hard Deck. White picket fence, really” he hums, turning the laptop again “garden?” You ask and he nods “garden.” He nods with a grin. “Shall we go look?” You ask and he raises a brow at you. “You said it’s a walk from the hard deck. Let’s go.” You say, putting the address into your phone and immediately recognising the street name, Bradley quickly falling into step with you as you walk towards the property.

You look at it and place your hands on your hips. Bradley was right. Pretty damn perfect. “Can I help you?” A lady asks, walking outside of the house, clipboard in hand. “Oh no, we’d just seen this property online and wanted to take a look.” Bradley tells her. “Well I’ve had a no-show on a viewing. How’d you like to take a look?” She suggests, motioning to the open door. “Okay” you nod, following her into the house.

“Obviously the kitchen, living room, even a deck out back with a huge garden and high fences” she says nodding out the window and you hum. “Out the side there’s an entrance straight to the beach” she motions, then starts heading up the stairs “three bedrooms, attic space, bathroom” she says “I’m guessing it’s just you two at the moment?” She asks “oh we’re not-” Bradley begins “yes, just us.” You confirm, shutting him up. “Okay, so there’s a large room for your bed and then if any new additions are to join, you have the space for them” she smiles and leads you back out front.

“It’s not cheap, it’s California. So I understand if you’re not prepared to pay that much money, do you mind me asking what you do?” She asks “we’re naval aviators.” Bradley says “stationed here?” She asks and you both nod “ah! I get why you’re looking for a property here!” She says and Bradley looks at you. “I really like it, Roo.” You say, and Bradley has to stop his jaw hitting the floor at your nickname. “It’s your call, honey” he says and you look at the lady and smile as she offers her hand “we’ll take it.”

“How shall we split the payment?” You ask Bradley as you walk back to the Hard Deck after organising a meeting with the realtor to actually finalise all the kinks and bumps. “I don’t mind doing the down payment then we’ll take it in turn paying the loan” he suggests “we can get a joint bank account and do it that way” you say and he agrees as you settle back into your seats at the Hard Deck. “Where’ve you two been?” Hangman asks “we bought a house.”

One evening, after you were all moved in and were hanging out at the Hard Deck after a long day or routine flying, you were sat outside with Rooster; watching the sunset. “When are we getting married then?” You ask and he spits out his beer “what?” He asks, eyes wide and getting progressively more giddy. “Well we live together, we have a joint bank account, and Jake keeps telling me we’re practically married. So when are we getting married?” You ask as he hugs you tightly “whenever you want, baby” he says, kissing the top of your head and pulling a ring out of his pocket to get on his knee. “Will you marry me?” He asks and you raise a brow “didn’t I just say that?” You ask bluntly “just say yes, please” he begs and you nod “yes. Yes I will marry you, Bradley Bradshaw.” You confirm as he kisses your lips gently.

“Okay get off of me now.”

Pt. 2

[issues4him]

Can you please do blue collar Rafe when emmet is starting kindergarten and Rafe has to take him and the fam back to school shopping. Emmet is going crazy picking out all of the car and truck themed school supplies. And flash forward to his first day Rafe has to comfort reader because she’s super emotional that her first baby is going off to school. And when Rafe gets home emmet can’t wait to tell him all about his day. 💚

you’d been dreading it for weeks. kindergarten. you didn’t want to admit it out loud, not when emmett was so excited, not when rafe kept reminding you gently that this was a good thing. but deep down, it hurt. your first baby—your tiny velcro boy who used to nap on your chest and follow you around the house—was suddenly picking out a backpack and learning to write his name in big wobbly letters. so when rafe announced he was taking the day off work to go school shopping as a family, your heart just about burst.

it started in the school supply aisle of the local walmart. emmett was in full tornado mode—bounding from bin to bin, every other sentence starting with “LOOK, DADDY!” as he held up notebooks with fire trucks and monster wheels, pencil cases with racecars, and folders with dogs wearing sunglasses.

“buddy, you only need one folder,” rafe said patiently, hands on his hips.

“but this one’s got flames,” emmett argued, holding up one with a cartoon dump truck exploding through a wall of bricks.

rafe raised an eyebrow, glancing at you as you smiled from behind the cart. “i mean… guess you can’t argue with flames.”

by the end of the trip, the cart was overflowing with themed erasers, a lunchbox shaped like a gas pump, a backpack with actual wheels, and a t-shirt that said “built tough like my dad.” you reached for the total at the register but rafe beat you to it, tossing his card onto the reader and nudging your hand away. “hell you think you’re doin’? tryin’ to pay when i’m stand in’ right here. pfftt,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. you didn’t say anything—just smiled as you glanced down at emmett, who was proudly clutching his new pencils like they were gold.

—

the night before the big day, you laid out his clothes—denim overalls and a red T-shirt he’d picked himself—and packed his backpack with snacks and supplies. rafe helped emmett write his name on every folder with that strong, steady hand of his, guiding emmett’s tiny fingers with so much patience it made your heart ache.

and then morning came. you dressed emmett slowly, smoothing down his hair, adjusting his backpack straps ten times over. he looked so small standing at the front door, but so big at the same time. rafe came down freshly showered, smelling like soap and cedar, his work boots laced and ready for drop-off duty, “you ready, bud?” he asked, ruffling emmett’s hair.

emmett nodded, bouncing on his toes. “i’m gonna learn math!”

you were silent, arms wrapped around yourself, watching from the kitchen.

rafe caught your eye and frowned. “hey.”

you blinked fast. “i’m fine.”

but when emmett turned to hug you goodbye, your arms wrapped around him tight—too tight. your throat ached.

“i love you, baby,” you whispered against his hair.

“i love you too, mama.”

you nodded quickly, pressing your lips together as you let go. rafe came up behind you the second the door shut, sliding his arms around your waist, “go ahead and cry now,” he said gently. “i know you were holdin’ it in.”

and oh—you did. he held you at the kitchen counter, his big hand rubbing circles into your back as you let the tears fall, half-laughing at yourself, half-hurting, “i just—he was just a baby, rafe…”

“i know, baby,” he murmured, even sounding a bit choked up himself. “i know.”

—

that night, when rafe came home, he didn’t even make it through the door before emmett came flying down the hall, arms wide, grinning, “daddy!! i colored and i made a FRIEND and we had pudding—can i show you my folder? i got a STICKER!”

rafe laughed, scooping him up mid-sentence, spinning him around once before setting him back down, “slow down, little man! one thing at a time.” and you watched from the kitchen, arms crossed over your chest, heart full. rafe caught your eye and winked. your boy had made it through his first day. and you had, too.

and tomorrow, you’d do it all over again. together.

[green-butterfly-writes]

Yandere Batfam concept: neglected trans reader

Warnings for: child neglect, unintentional transphobia as a result of child neglect, (non bigoted) religious imagery, blasphemous imagery, idolizing Bruce Wayne

I'm Dyslexic, and don't have a beta, so mistakes are likely to happen.

Standard neglected reader, they are Bruce’s bio kid, don’t get involved in Batman stuff, and end up getting punished to the side.

They realize they are trans while still living with the Waynes, and aren’t sure if they should come out or not. Not that they think the batclan would hurt them, but given the total lack of support or attention they were raised with, they were worried.

After a year or two of suffering through dysphoria and anxiety, they decide to come out to Bruce.

Except Bruce is very difficult to get a hold of. Especially for them. So when they do finally tell him, he’s distracted and not paying attention. The conversation goes roughly like this:

You finally managed to find time he wasn’t Batmaning, spending time with your siblings, or in the office, and even though you’d prefer he look at you and not the paper work he was doing, you’ll take what you can get.

You were in his darkly furnished home office, in a deep blue plush chair sitting at an angle from Bruce, who was behind the large dark wood desk in the center of the room. The walls were lined with bookshelves taller than mount Olympus, each and every one of them filled with neatly organized text books, encyclopedias, and dictionaries.

Bruce sat in front of the only window in the room. It was tall, and a made of neatly organized, fractured glass. It lit Bruce from behind, like one of the stained glass murals from your grandmother‘s church, and made him look like an angel. A heavenly messenger you prayed to every night for protection, and every day for love. But the world is cruel, and so is its creator, so your prayers continued to go unanswered.

“Dad,” you started hesitantly, “I have something I wanted to talk to you about. I thought it best to tell you in person.” Typically, if you had something you wanted to share with Bruce, you would write it in a letter, leave it on his bedside table, and he’d get back to you in a week or two. But you wanted to tell him yourself. You need to see his face when he found out.

Bruce only hummed in response.

“I’m trans. I’m not going by (dead name) any more, I’m going by (chosen name) now. And I’ve changed my pronouns too. It would mean a lot to me if you used them.” You stared down at your lap, fidgeting with your intertwining fingers, waiting for a response.

Silence suffocated you as Bruce continued his even scribbling across his note pad, turning to the next page in the grant proposal he was reading.

“That’s nice (dead name). Why don’t you go see if Alfred needs help in the garden, I’m sure he’d love to hear your stories.”

You felt as if your very soul had shattered into a million pieces. Your heart burred in your chest, and your mouth went dry. It felt like someone had dunked your head a pile of fresh snow and held you there. You couldn’t feel your body, or hear your mind, and at the same time you felt it all too much, and heard it far to loud.

You had prayed to your heavenly messenger, your savior, your prophet. He who had granted you life and meaning. Who had saved you from deaths door, and carried you into his home. And you were just turned away at the altar.

That was the last time you called him dad.

You considered coming out to Alfred, the only member of the family that remembers your existence without you needing to remind him, but he’s old and you wouldn’t be able to stomach another rejection.

The next few years were hell.

Every event felt like a nightmare, trapped in a cage of fabric, every time you put on your school uniform you wanted to scream

Everyone called you the name you were desperate to forget, used the pronouns that made you skin sit wrong on your bones

You stopped looking in mirrors, hating what you saw.

Once you turned eighteen you practically ran out of the house.

You got excepted to a school in another state and took it, never looking back.

You wrote Alfred monthly letters about how you were doing for the first two years, then every other month, then every four. Slowly weening him off of updates about your life. You still send him a card during the holidays and one for his birthday so he knows you’re alive, but the address is for a P.O. box, so he doesn’t know where you live.

It’s now ten years after you left and you’re doing amazing. You’re flourishing in your career, have an amazing group of friends, and maybe most importantly, changed your first and last name. You got the surgeries you wanted, went on hormones, and can look yourself in the mirror now. You love your life

Sometimes when you’re watching tv or walking through the streets, you’ll see advertisements, magazines, or talk shows with imagery of your now forgotten false idol. Sometimes you wonder how he’s doing, how his kids have grown. You wonder if he misses you. Your therapist told you that’s normal for victims of child abuse. You pay the thoughts no mind.

You don’t watch the every move of your golden bat anymore, in fact you don’t watch any. And you don’t realize that he’s watching you, praying for forgiveness, not only for what he has done, but for what he’s about to do.

[womanofwords]

Everybody's Favourite (Part 10)

After that incident with going outside, you knew it wouldn't take long for papa bird to come and get his baby chick. You'd already been hurt while in the custody of the Waynes. This would not fly.

Alfred came over to your room, looking more alarmed than you'd ever seen him. "Mx Y/N, Mr Cobblepot is here to see you," he said, face paler than usual. "He has brought a large amount of Gotham's villainous circle with him."

"My aunts and uncles!" You suppressed a squeal of glee. "Yay!"

"He demands that you come home with him where it's safe, Mx Y/N."

"OK. Tell him I'm packing," you said.

Alfred's jaw dropped. It was only for a second and he composed himself remarkably well, but it still happened and you clocked it. "Mx Y/N, your father would never allow it! He and Mr Cobblepot are arguing about it as we speak!"

"Really?" you asked.

"Yes, Y/N. They're in the dining room."

Tentatively, you walked to the dining room and listened in from outside. Oswald's voice came in loud and clear. "You are like a child that wants a toy simply because you see another child playing with it!" Oswald snapped.

"I am not relinquishing my child to a known criminal and their kidnapper who openly admitted to wanting a ransom for them from me," Bruce said.

"I'm not surrendering my little dove to an unloving home with dangerous family members and a potentially savage dog," Penguin said. "We've seen the scars, Bruce. Your creepy little son shouldn't have a dog if he's going to train it to attack his siblings."

"Creepy?!" Damian had to be restrained by Cassandra, Jason, and Dick just to stop him from lunging over the table to break Penguin's prominent nose.

"I will admit that our relationship with Y/N has not been the best, but we are willing to do whatever it takes to repair those bonds," Bruce said.

"Don't give me that crap!" Riddler sneered. "The only memories they have of spending time with you are traumatic and disappointing. We literally had a bet that you wouldn't respond to our attempts to contact you for two weeks straight, and we were right!"

"We . . . are aware of that bet," Dick said, wanting to bawl. "Rest assured, our little baby bird will never feel that unwanted ever again."

"That's a bunch of empty promises and you know it! We keep up with the news too, ya know!" Harley jabbed a finger in Dick's face. Arguing boiled over and swept out of the room, and you felt yourself shrinking. Everyone was so mad about you. You had to hide. Your knees buckled and you curled up into a ball in the corner.

"Oh my goodness, Y/N! How long have you been there?" Penguin sat on the floor with you, holding you in his arms. "There, there, darling. Walk with me, OK?" With some difficulty, Penguin took you into the dining room. "Papa is here, and Papa loves you."

"Stop calling yourself that! I'm her father!" Bruce snapped. He made sure to soften his tone when he spoke to you. "Y/N, want a hug? You're clearly upset."

"You don't give good hugs. Papa gives good hugs. I want my papa," you murmured, sniffling.

"See? Y/N wants me to comfort them," Penguin said. His face was nauseatingly smug. "We should just take them home. We've already prepared a room for them."

"You are not kidnapping Y/N again!" Jason balked at the audacity. "They stay here from now on, where we will be bonding with them. Name a single activity you did, and we'll do it with them."

"No, you won't," you groaned. "You'll forget or cancel or think that it's stupid. I don't want you guys to come."

"How much more blatant can you get, Bruce?" Two-Face said. "Good grief, you guys are pathetic."

"And you're a bunch of evil, twisted, kidnapping supervillains!" Damian yelled.

Something inside you snapped. "Damian, shut up. You sicced a dog onto me, you have no room to talk. And Bruce, get off your high horse. This is the most time you've ever spent with me, and you're still delegating the task of parenting onto everyone that isn't Bruce Wayne. Now, here's the deal: I will spend time with a member of the Wayne family, provided that you are supervised by my dad and relatives."

"What?" Barbara spluttered.

You scoffed. "Get a clue, Gordon, I barely know you guys. I resent Bruce, I hate and fear Damian, Dick nauseates me with his false sweetness, and the rest of you are interchangeable jerks. I know nothing about you except for your names and the fact that you didn't want to be seen in public with me until after I was gone. Don't act entitled to me now that I've lost interest. You are going to pair up with either Papa Penguin or an aunt or uncle and you'll like it because it's the only way I'm tolerating you."

"Y/N, we can make this right. I promise." Bruce said. "On your next birthday, we'll all make sure to be there. And we'll do whatever you want!"

"Literally anything, just name it!" Dick interrupted, his eyes wide and slightly crazed. "Wanna go out of the country? Wanna stay home? Wanna see a movie premiere? We'll do it all, just for you!"

"Sure you will," you drawled. "Hey, quick question for specifically the Wayne family: when is my birthday?"

They looked at you with confusion. Damian tilted his head like a perplexed puppy. "What?"

"Damian, this is not a trick question. I simply want to know if any of you know when my birthday is. It's important to celebrate my birthday on my birthday, right?" Your eyes swept across the Wayne family members, making eye contact with them one by one. "When. Is. My. Birthday?"

"They really don't know, do they?" Selina hissed.

"Pathetic," Scarecrow whispered.

"April 8th?" Barbara asked.

"July 25th?" Jason suggested.

"Halloween?" Duke asked.

"It's [Birthday], you dolts!" Penguin scoffed. "Y/N, isn't your birth certificate in this manor?"

"Yes, it is," you said. "You know what, you'd better be happy that you're being paired up with my aunties and uncles. Someone has to know what they're doing with me."

"Wait!" Damian spoke up, eyes wider than you'd ever seen them. "You'll still be staying at the manor, right?"

"I'm honestly not sure," you admitted. "On the one hand, I'd really like to get away from you guys and I'm halfway packed. On the other hand, I'll miss Alfred."

"We won't force you to stay with us, little dove," Selina said.

"That's a shock," Tim snarked.

"Shut it, Tim," you said. "Now, please extend that silence to all of you while I make a list of my new routine. I'm guessing you might want to be involved in activities that you are somewhat versed in."

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10 <- You are here

Part 11

Taglist: @tinybrie, @enchantingarcadecreation, @hopingtoclearmedschool,, @sh4rk-k1d, @prorpy, @angelicbear, @sulleha, @sirenetheblogger, @omgfangirlland, @heather-hutchcroft, @wannaflyaway, @jaybunsblog, @sugarrush-blush, @redkarmakai, @asillysimp

[harmonysanreads]

Idk if you saw but Phainon apparently has a hobby in appraising antiques. Just imagine if for his partner he fondly refers to them as his greatest or most priceless treasure. Though on the other hand, it certainly gives "dragon coveting its hoard" kinda vibes. Possibly romantic depending on who you ask, but it speaks volumes of how much he cherishes them.

Yup I've seen his shenanigans regarding this and I must thank you because, I feel like this is a great opportunity to discuss how possessive Phainon can be.

The idea seems contradictory to what Aglaea and Tribbie have told us about him — he's selfless, willingly takes on more burden than he should and pushes himself constantly to meet that image of a ‘perfect vessel’ in order to protect Amphoreus. The term possessiveness should be absolutely unthinkable to be put in the same sentence as his name. Such a noble hero couldn't possibly be... selfish, right?

Phainon himself battles with these doubts, well, it would be more precise to say that he's the one who thinks about it the most out of anyone living in Amphoreus.

The first time he notices the evidences of that particular behavior, it has to be pointed out by someone ; you, one of his comrades or just a random person. Phainon relies on external validation to a degree, his sense of self can be altered through a strong enough comment on his personality.

The process of it developing isn't different from how it would be for anyone ; an attachment to you is secured, outside influences threaten it, he realizes a need to be in your presence more, becomes annoyed when your attention is stolen until it reaches to a point where he's actively trying to maintain it on himself alone. But the thing is, he's so swept up in all the emotions of being in love that he doesn't stop to process them all for quite some time. That's why an external call out is required.

Perhaps it would've been best if no one pointed it out to begin with, because now he's simmering in guilt and shame in his head. The Chrysos Heir is notably rigid for some time, mulling over his every action and word until he's caught in analysis paralysis. Because even if he'd like to convince himself that he's nonchalant, he cares about how you perceive him, a lot.

At the same time as this inner turmoil almost frying him, there is no notable change in his paranoia — if anything, it gets worse. The more he tries to test distance and respect for your personal time and space, the more his anxiety worsens, suddenly devoid of a medium to soothe it with. Two greeting texts increases to ten, phone calls are no longer enough, he needs to see that you're okay and safe.

At one point, a sinister thought somehow plants itself in his mind. He's lost so much ; his home, his family, his friends, his peace and his identity. But he continues sacrificing more, he continues giving up things for the sake of others, for a future marked by uncertainty. Now that there is someone who makes him happy, who he finds solace in, who he genuinely loves... he's demanded again to ‘tone it down’ when all he wants is to spend time with them? Is that not unfair to him?

And well, he brushes it off quickly — not that it completely goes away. These ideas only really torment him when he's not with you, which is another reason why separation will have a physical effect on him if it is extended to a point. Which direction all these inner conflicts and overthinking will take him towards, depends on him alone.

As for the ‘evidences’ mentioned previously, they're so him that it's honestly difficult to tell whether he's being driven by something less than innocent. He usually tends to whine and sulk to prolong your presence, gives you the doe eyes and kicked puppy look. There is also the matter with texts and calls as mentioned previously. He responds to your texts very quickly and tries to keep conversations going for as long as possible, low-key spirals if you're taking too long to respond and insists on hearing your voice, unless you tell him strongly that you aren't comfortable with it.

Is not afraid of showing physical affection in public, likes holding hands and/or linking arms with you at all times. Uses his height to his advantage as well, as in, serving as your personal shield — whether you want it or not. He doesn't really lash out at people, unless of course, they were rude to you. Given his naturally amicable personality, most people don't try to do something outrageous in front of him either. His jealousy is kind of obvious as well and since he tends to use the ‘kicked puppy method’ frequently, it can be difficult to take it seriously, to be honest. Make sure to not let your guard down though.

As for the matter of him calling you his treasure, I personally like to think that he sees his darling as above him, above everyone actually. Treasure implies towards something that was acquired and typically has a material value. Phainon is out there thanking fate and every holy being everyday for blessing him with someone like you, he struggles to even answer the question of ‘what he likes most about you’ (it's everything). He might say it out of affection in the spur of a moment once, but in his heart, your worth exceeds the notion of treasures.

[bloomstream]

⋆˚࿔ capes and crayons

turns out the mha boys make pretty good fathers.

— includes: kirishima, kaminari, sero & shinsou (in that order)

contains: f!reader, established relationship, fluff, pet names, kids LOL

authors note: i missed writing these

word count: around 450-570 for each

⋆˚࿔ e.kirishima

“i love you.” your husband whispered, placing a kiss on your neck. it was nothing sexual, rather something similar to a relevant secret shared through the wind’s breeze. 

you giggled, hands combing through his hair as his breath ghosted over your skin. it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary to wake up this way. your husband lips on your skin, whispering sweet nothings in your ear in a way that recharged you more than eight hours of sleep could.  

“can’t we just stay like this all day?” he muttered. his grip on your hips tightened as he leaned closer to your body. you could feel the smile on his lips against the crook of your neck. 

you ruffled his rose dyed hair and sighed, “eiji, baby, you know we can’t. the gir—”

and like most mornings, your moment of bliss was cut short. “MOMMY! DADDY!” a shrieking voice exclaimed from the near distance. 

eijiro peaked up at you and you shot him a knowing look back. 

before either of you had time to move your bedroom door creaked open and in came mei and hana; your four and seven year old daughters. 

“DADDY!” mei, the younger of the two, ran up to the edge your queen bed, hands splayed over your covers as she attempted to lift herself up. 

eijiro peeked himself from you and sat up. he immediately picked her up, large hands on either side of her torso as he lifted her high. “good morning my beautiful girls!” mei giggled as eijiro brought her close, drowning her face in affectionate kisses.

hana followed close behind her, arms crossed as she found a spot on your side of the bed. “were you guys kissing?” she asked, face displaying a not-so-pleasant expression.

your eyes widened momentarily before you hooked your arm around hana’s and pulled her close. “what? of course not.” you laid a firm, cradling hand on the back of her head and tilted her head down, placed a sweet kiss on the crown of her head. “how’d you two sleep?” you redirected the conversation, giving your husband a playful sideway glance before bringing your focus back to the young girls. 

“awesome!” mei’s hands shot up as she excitedly bounced in eijiro’s lap. you always wondered how that girl always had so much energy in the morning. “in my dream, daddy let us have ice cream before school!”

a breath escaped your nose as you tilted your head, “really?” you asked. 

you could already imagine the conversation the two girls had before entering your room: hana coaxing mei into asking for ice cream for breakfast, telling her to bat her eyelashes and give dad that sweet smile that she knew he always folded to. 

“yup!” mei chirped innocently. 

you held back a laugh and putting on a serious ‘mommy face’, your brows furrowed, ready to tell the girls that ice cream wasn’t something you eat for breakfast. but when you glanced over at eijiro, you only found a grin that mirrored mei’s.

“mommy, can we really have ice cream for breakfast?” hana asked, hand clutching onto your wrist as she also attempted to bat her eyelashes at you.  

“yeah, can we?” eijiro joined in, smiling face undeniably charming under the sun's morning glow.

you sighed, shaking your head. but there was a smile creeping up on your lips. “alright. what flavor do we want?”

⋆˚࿔ d.kaminari

“guys! we’re going to be late!” you shouted. 

it was a beautiful sunny day in musutafu, which wasn’t rare alone. what was rare was the fact that you and denki are both off of work. and it being a weekend meant the kids had no school. so, beautiful day plus no work and no school equals family outing!

but you wouldn’t be able to have a fun family outing if you couldn’t even leave the house on time. 

with your youngest son— kenji, who recently turned two years old —hoisted up on your hip, you walked over to your six year old twin daughters’, emi and mio, bedroom. 

the door was slightly open. you could hear soft giggles coming from one of the girls and the quiet murmur of your husband's voice. 

quietly, you pushed the door open. you are met with the familiar shine of your daughters’ sunflower painted bedroom walls— which was nearly blinding on a sunny day like this. there were a couple of articles of clothing scattered across the light brown wooden floor. 

denki was politely sitting in the middle of the room, legs crossed over each other and his back facing you. 

“i think kenji was wearing a blue shirt like this!” denki held up a light blue shirt to mio’s chest. it had a flying dolphin printed on the front and ruffles along it’s perimeter. 

mio grinned, hovering her hands over the shirt as her eyes glistened in admiration. “i like it.” her voice was soft, almost a whisper. 

emi on the other hand was bouncing on her bed without a single care for the dolphin decorated shirt. she hopped off her mattress and approached denki, “but mommy is wearing a pink shirt! i wanna wear a pink shirt too!” her face scrunched up, as well as her hands, as she stomped her foot.

mio glanced at her sister with a judging look and denki just laughed. he took both emi’s hands, unraveling her fist and squeezing her palms. “you can’t match with mommy because i’m matching with her.” i pointed at his light pink shirt unapologetically, “see?”

emi’s eyes grew wide and— “BU— BUT WHY CAN’T I MATCH WITH HER TOO?!” she cried out, tears welling up in her eyes and threatening to spill out. 

“denki!” you stepped into the room and your husband immediately whipped his head around, guilt written all over his face. he jolted up as you walked past him and to emi. you crouched down to her level, and using the hand that wasn’t holding up kenji, you wiped the single tear that had fallen down her cheek. “hey, hey,” you shushed. “you can wear pink to match with me, okay? don’t listen to daddy.” 

emi’s expression was quick to change, “yay! i’m matching with mommy! i’m matching with mommy!” she cheered and ran to the dresser, already looking for a shirt to replace the one denki had previously picked out for her. 

you smiled and turned to pat mio’s head, silently thanking her for behaving, before standing back up to face your husband.  

you adjusted kenji on your hip and brought your eyes up to denki’s golden ones. “really?” you prodded.

“what?” denki smirked, slipping a sly hand on your hip as he leaned close to your ear. “you’re still mine, right?” 

you scoffed as he placed a kiss on the outer shell of your ear. 

⋆˚࿔ h.sero

you pretended to not hear the soft click that came from the front door of your house as you silently finished drying off the dishes. maybe if you stayed quiet enough he wouldn’t notice; he wouldn’t pester you about it. 

but you knew better. 

“babe? where are you?” hanta called out. you listen as you hear the telling sounds of him taking off his boots, then his jacket, and finally putting his duffel bag down.

you remain still and silent. 

“y/n? baby?” he calls again. after a second he finds his way into the dimly lit kitchen where you were standing. immediately, his voice drops from the sweet tone it was previously dripped into something more serious. “y/n.” he deadpans. 

your body stiffens as you hear him step toward you. “i can explain…” you bite your lip as hanta comes up behind you, head falling onto your shoulder. 

he hands climb up to your stomach, caressing the eight month old bump that laid heavily attached to your body. “explain why my very pregnant wife is doing the dishes when i specifically told her i’d take care of it?” his tone is low. he isn’t mad but it was clear he wasn’t joking either. “come on sweetheart. doctor says you shouldn’t be doing this stuff. that’s what your husband is for.” he murmured, rubbing his nose against your neck. hanta was unable to hide his affection for you, even when he was ’upset’.

you titled your head back in his direction, accepting his warmth. “but hanta, i can’t just sit here and do nothing.” you whined, “it’ll kill me.” 

it was true. laying in bed all day made you feel uncomfortable and stiff; your legs aching, and your back hurting. 

the only thing that could keep your mind off the pulsing pain was work. but of course hanta didn’t agree with that. 

“you’re killing me.” hanta whined back. he lifted his head, placing a kiss on the back of your head before saying, “come on, let’s get you two to bed.” he caressed your belly once more and you sighed. 

“fine.”

“don’t get all moody with me.” he teased and gave you another kiss, this one being sloppier and on your cheek. “want a foot rub ma?” he asked.

“god, yes. please.” you falter. 

“come on then.” he takes you by the shoulders and guides you towards your shared bedroom. 

when he flicks on the lights, rina— your four year old daughter —groaned softly. after a second she flipped over and sighed, seemingly falling back asleep.

“she’s been out since ten.” you whispered. 

“yeah?” hanta nods as he seats you down on the bed. he moves to your closet to change into his pajamas. 

you push the loose strands of hair laid on rina’s forehead back. her hair has been in dutch braids for two days, hanta having done it during a family movie night after endless pleading. and because she had asked politely and ate all her vegetables, hanta complied. (but you’re sure if she didn’t do either of those things hanta would still do it)

hanta appeared at the foot of the bed, tapping your foot. you position your legs on top of his lap and he lets out a content sigh as his hands move to message your feet with slow and intricate motions that were so full of love. “she’s so well behaved. we got lucky.” he says quietly. 

“or maybe she got it from me?” 

hanta lifts your leg up to kiss your ankle. “yeah, probably.” he smiles. “but this one?” his eyes fall on your bump and it’s as if his eyes are reflecting a sparkling night sky. “he’s gonna take after his daddy.”

you laugh at your husband's reference to himself as ‘daddy’ and let your head fall back onto the pillow as he pressed small circles into the soles of your feet, feeling the most comfortable you have all day. 

⋆˚࿔ h.shinsou

“hey babe, did you buy food for kumo?” you yelled from behind the kitchen counter. you bend down, searching through the grocery bags that were spread throughout the kitchen floor.  

hitoshi emerged from the bathroom, rubbing his wet lavender hair. “‘course i did. what kind of father would i be if i didn’t?” he titled his head as he rubbed focused on one side of his head. 

“the same father you were last week.” you said through gritted teeth, rolled your eyes as you stood up. 

he scoffed. “can’t find it?”

you shook your head.

hitoshi dropped his towel onto his shoulder and walked into the kitchen. he crouched down, skimming through the bags like you had been moments earlier. 

he searched through one bag, then moved to another, then another. you watched with your hands on your hips, an amused expression painted on your face. 

then hitoshi coughed, “hey— uh, y/n?” he hands slowed down, but didn’t stop. 

“yeah?” your brows furrowed at his unsure tone. “what? don’t tell me you forgot it.” you squatted down  besides him to look again. but before you could touch the bag hitoshi spoke again. 

“no, no. it’s not that. i know i bought it.” he shook his head. “it’s.. something else.” 

you were more confused now. “what is it?”

hitoshi sucked in a breath through his nose and looked at you. “can we.. have another one?”

your mouth immediately fell open. “what?“

“look. i know we said we’d only have one, but kumo is lonely. did you know that? she practically cried every night for company.”

“babe that’s— i…” being too dumbfounded to form a proper sentence, you close your mouth and think. 

“please?” 

it wasn’t normal for hitoshi to get like this, all pleading and desperate. 

“toshi… can we really handle that right now?” you said cautiously. you didn’t want to get his hopes up, but seeing the way he was so persistent and seemed to mostly want this for kumo’s benefit, you couldn’t shut the idea down just yet. 

“why not?” his brows raised in reason. there was a glint of something in his eye, something that showed that he knew he’d already won.

but before you could confirm your decision, kumo crawled into the kitchen. she stopped at the bags near the archways threshold, sniffling them before skipping to the bags near the oven. she smelt the bag, then pawed at it. the bag folded under the weight and out rolled a can of cat tuna. a low purr rumbled from kumo’s throat. 

“kumo, you’re a genius.” hitoshi shuffled towards the oven and opened the can of tuna, letting kumo eat straight from it as he pet her. “great older sibling material.” he pointed out, glancing towards you briefly as he continued to pet her spotted head. “kumo! you're getting a little sibling!” he crooned, taking both his hands to run her hands over her ears and then scratch her chin.

you swore there him and his cat antics would be the death of you.

[mocchiixxx]

Seventeen's Ways of Saying 'I Do' Series # | 02: The Contractual Marriage of Yoon Jeonghan

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Mischief

Yoon Jeonghan x Reader

Summary: You teasingly tell Jeonghan that you like his last name and ask if you can have it. Instead of getting flustered, he immediately turns the joke against you, acting like you just signed a binding contract—complete with wedding plans, an imaginary guest list, and a suspiciously well-thought-out future.

You and Jeonghan are sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, watching some random variety show. He has his head resting on your shoulder, lazily playing with your fingers as his eyes flicker between you and the screen.

Feeling mischievous, you decide to mess with him.

"I like your last name. Can I have it?"

For a moment, there’s silence. No dramatic reaction, no sudden movement.

Then, very slowly, Jeonghan lifts his head and looks at you with narrowed eyes.

"Are you saying… you want to marry me?"

You snort. "Wow, you jumped to that conclusion fast."

He smirks, stretching his arms over his head. "Well, you did just request my last name. That’s legally binding, you know. No take-backs."

You roll your eyes. "Oh yeah? And what if I say I was just joking?"

Jeonghan gasps, placing a hand over his chest as if you just shattered his heart. "Are you saying you’re abandoning our future family?!"

"Our what now—?"

"We were going to have a beautiful life together, Y/N!" He dramatically flops against the couch, shaking his head. "I already planned our wedding! Seungcheol was going to officiate, Joshua was in charge of music, and Mingyu— well, we weren’t going to let Mingyu touch anything important, but still!"

You burst out laughing. "You’re ridiculous."

"Ridiculously in love with my fiancée, yes."

"Oh my God, Jeonghan."

He grins, sitting back up and leaning in close. "Come on, say it again."

"Say what?"

"That you like my last name. That you want it."

You raise an eyebrow. "Why? Will you actually propose if I do?"

He hums, pretending to think. "Mmm… I guess you’ll just have to say it and find out."

You stare at him for a moment before shaking your head with a laugh. "I swear, you always find a way to turn things around on me."

Jeonghan only grins wider, poking your cheek. "That’s what husbands do, sweetheart."

Bonus:

That night, you receive a text from Jeonghan:

Jeonghan: Hey, don’t make any plans next Saturday. You: Why? Jeonghan: We need to go cake tasting for our wedding. You: JEONGHAN?! Jeonghan: You said you wanted my last name. I’m just being efficient.

A/N: Uh-oh??!! I'm telling you, he might actually do this in real life, like, hello?? he's already at the age to marry and he'll grab the chance if he wanted to settle down now. He might ended up to be prettier than the bride in the actual wedding though 🤭

[icaruspendragon]

Take on snakes?

one time I was kayaking with some friends and we came around a bend that had a little beach. the bank held a few families with little kids. all of whom were having a grand time doing river beach in bumfuck, tennessee activities.

as we were out in nature, there happened to be a little snake guy swimming through the water, just minding his business doing river snake in bumfuck, tennessee things.

upon spotting the little snake guy, one of the adults calls the kids back to shore. not an unexpected move as there are several venomous snakes to watch out for in the south–namely copperheads, rattle snakes, and cottonmouths. cottonmouths are also referred to as water moccasins, a moniker earned as they are frequently found in/near bodies of water. most children in the south are taught which snakes to avoid pretty early on. and so understandably the snake warning makes the kids scared. my "brother" skylar was the closest to our slithery little guy. he calls out to the bank that the snake is harmless.

now. as a kid who grew up in bumfuck, alabama watching animal planet I love little creatures.

my childhood summers were spent exploring creeks and swamps looking for crawdads and little fishies and lizards and turtles and snakes and pollywogs and salamanders and frogs.

did this love for little creatures cause an inadvertent introduction of an invasive species? yes. but sometimes childhood curiosity causes whoopsie-doodles.

my love for little creatures never went away. I was curious, not afraid. and as fortune favors the bold, the snake swam my way. once the little creature was close enough, I gently lifted it from the water with my paddle so I could get a better look.

it looked like a snake.

my friend slid off and back into the water, swimming closer to me, under my kayak, then popping up on the other side. now that it was near enough, that childhood curiosity came back in full force. I did what I thought anyone in my situation would do.

I gave my snaky friend a couple of light strokes on the tail as he swam away.

once we were a ways around the bumfuck, tennessee river beach, skylar turns to me and furiously whisper-shouts, "why the fuck did you touch that thing?" confused by his ire I say, "because he’s a little guy? you said he was fine.”

he gives me a look that can only be described as incredulous before speaking again, "yeah dumbass. I was lying because I didn't want those kids to freak out. the adults knew what kind of snake it was."

brow furrowed, I demand, "then why the fuck didn’t you tell me not to touch it?"

that's when my husband, who previously hadn't been listening to our conversation asks, "wait? did you really touch it?"

I give him a Look. "of course I did, that shouldn't be surprising."

our party stops paddling, all eyes are now on me.

"you touching a snake isn't the issue. the issue is you touching a water moccasin."

it's my turn to be incredulous. "how the fuck was I supposed to know that? skylar said it was harmless, so of course I touched it!"

"all skylar does is lie to fuck around around with people, something you most definitely know."

skylar chimes in once more, "to be fair to myself, I thought she knew I was lying."

I did not.

but to answer your question my take on snakes is that i think they’re neat.

[lemotmo]

I just watched 911 8x12!

I really liked it. It didn’t go as hard as the previous three episodes, but it had so many small subtle and interesting Buddie details that make me salivate!

Here are some of my thoughts in no specific order:

The call about the pizza guy and his car was hilarious. I loved the guy and how good Buck and Chim were together in those scenes. But Athena? Come on! You are a clever woman! How could you be so stupid as to park your police car right under a car that is about to fall?

Then the Maddie storyline. I screamed out loud when she dreamed that her throat was slashed again! 😬

I love how they actually showed Maddie having some trauma after what she went through. Her talk with Athena was great and the way she got her voice back? Again, because of the love for her child? Really good. It was also very sweet how Chimney supported her in everything and I’m glad those two have found each other.

This leads me directly into the Eddie storyline, because just like Maddie he had someone there to support him. 😏

We now know that Eddie has been in Texas for three weeks, which is good to know. I like how he didn’t get the job at that El Paso fire house, because then he would have been stuck for real, giving the Captain his word like that. Now we know for sure he’ll be back soon.

I like how we get a parallel to Eddie in Maddie’s first call. That kid called 911 for his father and because the building was on fire. He told Maddie that his dad had just moved to LA for a job. I mean, that is so on the nose. And who swoops in to save them? Buck and Ravi, with Buck actually picking up the boy. Listen, I love Chris, but I’m thinking he’ll be involved in something big this season and Buck will be there to save him and possibly even Eddie. It was such an interesting parallel to the tsunami arc as well. Something is happening to the Diaz family and Buck will save them. 🙂‍↕️

I’m kinda sad that we missed that first meeting between Eddie and Chris, but I love how we can clearly see that Chris is doing okay and he’s ready to forgive his dad.

I still hate Helena though.🙄 The way she subtly undermined Eddie’s agency as a parent in that first scene with the PS5. It was so annoying. I love how his dad obviously seems to realise that his son is trying his best and that his wife is out of line. I think we’ll get a confrontation between Eddie and his mom next episode and his dad will take Eddie’s side.

The way Eddie becomes ‘Edmundo’ when he’s in Texas is so painful as well. That’s why I’m so happy that Buck is always there to call him by his real name: Eddie.

Whatever happened to the robbery at the store? We saw that in those stills, didn't we? Did they cut it?

Eddie as an Uber driver was a good idea, because then he can give up his job anytime to go back to LA. It’s obvious he is trying hard, but he doesn’t like it at all. When he was yapping to all those people? I laughed out loud. How did he not realise that was not a good idea? You know how married couples sometimes take over personality traits from each other? Well he got the nervous yapping from Buck, no doubt. It was such a Buck thing to do. 😋

I hate how alone he seems to be, which again is counteracted by his lifeline to Buck.

I like how Chris found out about his dad being a driver and I love how he is now old enough to not hold it against him and realise his dad is trying hard to do right by him. He gave back the PS5. I mean, that says enough. That last hug. I cried so hard when that happened.😭

Then the whole Buddie of it all. The show could have just shown us Eddie’s struggles in El Paso, him disconnected from everyone in LA. Instead they specifically showed us his connection to Buck. He didn’t call anyone else! If he did they didn’t show us. But they thought they needed to show us the Buddie calls? Come on! They are laying it on so thick right now. I love it!

Buck casually cooking while talking to Eddie? Telling him he can’t come back, because he knows that Eddie will be miserable without Chris? He knows his husband so well. Buck would love Eddie to come back, but he knows he would never be happy without his son. I mean… remember Josh’s speech? Are his concerns your concerns? Is his happiness as important as yours?

We are seeing ALL of that right now! They are tying these two together in a distinctly non-friendship kind of way.

Buck is shown to have his back. He tells him to talk to Chris after the kid found out about his dad’s real job. He knows that Eddie internalizes everything and he knows what Eddie is going to try to avoid the 'talk' and what he needs to do. HE KNOWS HIM so well! Just like Eddie KNOWS Buck so well. They keep showing us this deep understanding and trust between them.

The amount of times Eddie said 'Buck' in this episode as well... I should probably watch again and count it. But it was very noticable.

And then they parallel this with Madney and how deep they support each other. I mean… this is like watching a Buddie fanfiction come to life. They are showing us these two have each other’s back, no matter what happens or where they are. I love how they are telling us their story right now.

A few more random things from this episode:

Eddie selling his car and calling it ‘sexy’? Really? How interesting. 🤭

No Diaz sisters! I’m so sad! 😭

I loved that girl who told Eddie to shut up and gave him some good Uber driver tips!

The PS5 was a nice gesture, but you can’t buy love like that. I’m glad both Eddie and Chris realized it.

LOL! Hot gal and guy were only there to make out in the car. I'm sure the actress has all the ins and outs about the 911 characters. *sarcasm* 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

The puke and Eddie cleaning it up sent me. Eddie! You are a father, firefighter and medic and you are disgusted by some vomit? Come on dude! Woman up!

I love how they casually mentioned that Bobby will always have Eddie’s job in LA lined up for him if he decides to come back. It’ll make things a lot easier when he gets back. We already know where this is going right?

As for next week. Hen becoming a hostage on that bus with a crazy knife guy? And again no sign of Eddie’s storyline? Colour me intrigued. 🤔

[zepskies]

Aw yay!! I'm really happy to hear that. 🥰😘

I just felt like there was a little more to explore in the time gaps of Part 2, namely with some important conversations that would've had to happen after reader and Dean finally get together at the end and before the wedding. 😅

And Benny honestly started to frustrate me the most the longer I thought about him (not me trying to find the only thing wrong with that man lol). It doesn’t take away from him being a class act at the end there, but he honestly was a bit of a shitty friend to Dean. If we relate it back to Friends and Joey’s feelings for Rachel, he always, always, always put his his friendship with Ross first and was willing to suffer. I truly think he would’ve sold his soul to get them back together, no matter how much it would have hurt him 🥲💔 And I don’t see that priority with Benny. Even during the visit at the hospital, instead of telling reader she won’t be alone because Dean will get his act together, he implied that he will be there. But he should’ve walked right out of there, pulled Dean aside and told him his baby momma is afraid of being alone, that Dean might have a real shot there, and if he truly wants this, he should stop with all that Lisa bullshit and fight for his family 🤷‍♀️

Omg you're so right! With Joey it was always clear that he was willing to self-sacrifice rather than hurt Ross. I think of all the "friends," Joey had the biggest heart. 💗

Whereas here, Benny was pretty selfish to go after the reader, thinking Dean was all wrapped up with Lisa and didn't want her like he did. 🤔 I so agree with you that Benny really should've "real talked" with Dean - asking him what he's doing with Lisa when clearly the reader needs his support. In that sense, Benny was an opportunist -- he stepped in where Dean should've been, intentionally wanting to be that guy.

Secondly, I totally can see that Dean didn’t make a move all this time because he was so scared of getting rejected again. And Lisa was available and offering, so he pretty much settled, thinking he’d never have a shot with reader. Makes complete sense to me and is definitely a trademark Dean move 🤓

BIG YEP. That was the crux of it with Dean - he was young and scared of a second rejection, and afraid to "mess up her life" even more, even though she 100% doesn't see it that way. It's the typical Dean self-worth issues wrapped in AU clothes. 😅🙃💙 (This is 💯 one of those issues that's going to be explored in the epilogue)

And PS: Your friend probably did cut out coffee. A lot of women do. Either because they want to or because it’s still a common misconception (I thought that too, but all the books said a cup is allowed). Knowing you’re a coffee lover, I just wanted you to know you’re allowed to have that life-saving cup in the morning 😘💜

Ahhh thank you!! In the future if you don't mind, I might hit you up with a pregnancy question if I run into one of these ideas in a fic. 😆😆

Girl yes, my Cuban blood would probably stop flowing. 🤪☕ I think I would die if I didn't have my 1 cup per day to wake me up in the morning. Like I tell my family, "I'm not even breathing yet. Don't talk to me."

Aw I'm so glad you love your tag! 😘 Wanted to give you some lovely alliteration back from one writer nerd to another.~

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. 🥰❤️❤️‍🔥

**As a reminder, One More Day (Dean x Latina Plus-Sized!Reader) comes out on 4/04 - the day after my birthday!~

Until then, please let me know what you thought of If I Stay! 😘 I might write more for these two in the future...

"Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, if I can't help falling in love with you?"

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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Dean Winchester Tag List (Part 1):

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @winchestergirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl @kaleldobrev

@globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdeanwrites @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78

@waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @my-stories-vault @0ccvltism

@rizlowwritessortof @k-slla @jackles010378 @alwaystiredandconfused @nancymcl

@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx

@mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @cheynovak @jollyhunter

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @aylacavebear @jessjad

@kmc1989 @siampie @rubyvhs @masked-lost-girl @spnbabe67

@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005 @redhoodieone

[lovemomhatepolice]

as a boyfriend - oscar piastri

navigation taglist requests

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, mention of sex, slightly suggestive, English is my second language!

summary: how is he acting as your boyfriend?

more content: formula 1 masterlist, oscar piastri masterlist, latest oscar one-shot ,as a boyfriend - lando norris, as a boyfriend - max verstappen, as a boyfriend - charles leclerc

boyfriend!oscar who insists he’s “not a jealous guy” but side-eyes every man who so much as looks at you for too long, then plays it off like he wasn’t paying attention at all.

boyfriend!oscar who sets an alarm earlier than he needs to, just so he can spend a few extra minutes in bed with you before starting his day.

boyfriend!oscar who gets shy when you kiss his cheek in public but never pulls away—just fights off a smile, trying to act like his heart isn’t racing.

boyfriend!oscar who from the beginning of your acquaintance at every step wanted to prove to you that he was not grumpy, because everyone laughed at him and said that he was like that and would not find a girlfriend

boyfriend!oscar who whispers the filthiest things in the most casual tone, just to watch you squirm—“You like being in charge, huh? That’s cute.” [nswf]

boyfriend!oscar who always absentmindedly reaches for your hand in crowded places, lacing his fingers through yours without even thinking about it.

boyfriend!oscar who himself does not know how you came to have such a good relationship with his sisters and parents, especially his mother, who already treats you like a daughter-in-law and, when you are together at his parents' house, pays more attention to you than to him

boyfriend!oscar who rarely raises his voice, so when he does, it makes your chest tighten—his words sharp, his jaw clenched, his usual patience stretched thin.

boyfriend!oscar who always immediately apologises to you all day long, unable to accept that he has raised his voice (this has happened to him at most twice in his life but he continues to suffer it)

boyfriend!oscar who doesn’t push you to talk when you don’t want to, just sits beside you in comfortable silence, offering quiet reassurance with his presence.

boyfriend!oscar who always tries to be subdued and not reveal his emotions, but as soon as you look at him, he knows he will tell you everything

boyfriend!oscar

boyfriend!oscar who casually mentions things like, “When we get our own place,” or “One day, when we have kids,” like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

boyfriend!oscar who sighs dramatically whenever you say you want just one bite of his food, but still hands over half his plate anyway

boyfriend!oscar who once visited you and ran away from ordinary bees, as if he didn't live in Australia and didn't see 5 times bigger insects or spiders there on a daily basis

boyfriend!oscar who texts you things like “landed safely” or “don’t forget to eat” even when you’re not expecting it, because he just thinks about you all the time.

boyfriend!oscar who sends you funny memes or goofy animals that remind him of you. he also often finds himself sending something with the signature ‘us’

boyfriend!oscar who pretends to be all patient, but the second you tease him, his voice drops as he murmurs, “You have no idea what you just started, sweetheart.” [nswf]

boyfriend!oscar who loves the sound of his name falling from your lips, whispering, “Say it again.” just to hear you unravel. [nswf]

boyfriend!oscar who always, but ALWAYS chooses you and only you. he mentions you in every possible interview, in every Mclaren Youtube video, conversation with other drivers or his family

A/N: please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

again a short one, but i hope that you're like it! your feedback is always welcomed <3

[bluehoodiewoozi]

Hii!! I just love serenity street 17 so much, the stories are all so wholesome and cute! 🥹

Idk if you're still taking ss17 bonus requests but it would be good to see from Wonwoo and his fiance. It's been a minute since we saw them. Maybe a drabble about them bringing Sock to home?

Hope you are doing great! Lots of love 💕

Hi! Thank you for the sweet words and the request! I hope you'll like it!

Word Count: 772 /// Warnings: none /// requests for more Serenity Street 17 content are open!

“I can’t believe he’s ours,” your voice was barely a whisper as you spoke. “Look at him, he’s so tiny.”

Wonwoo would’ve laughed if he wasn’t filled with similar awe and a feeling eerily similar to worry. His eyes were locked on the tiny being, memorising each rise and fall of his tiny chest, and the very pattern of his black fur. “He’s perfect.”

After many weeks of preparation, the two of you had finally brought home your first cat – your downstairs neighbour’s cat’s kitten who had stolen your heart with his white whiskers and loud purrs. Gently pressing him to your chest, you had dutifully refused to let go of him the whole trek up the stairs. Not even your fiancé could be trusted with your new baby; frankly, you weren’t sure you could be trusted with him either.

“Do you think he’ll like his new room?” you wondered, finally daring to let your eyes wander from his fluffy form and onto the decorations of the spare bedroom. 

True to your word, you had let Wonwoo paint the walls red and set up his computer in here. It seemed only fitting to let the new cat have the rest of the room, filled with several cat beds (which you had spent hours picking out at the pet store, with neither of you being able to decide which plush fabric was plushy-er and so you just got all of them), three-story climbing trees, toys and scratching pads. 

You realised that a large box labelled as a bookshelf still remained untouched next to the armchair. The armchair you had started assembling this morning, before giddiness got the best of you and you all but dragged your fiancé down the stairs to Elise’s apartment. You needed to deal with that soon. After you were sure your baby was comfortable in his new home.

This time Wonwoo couldn’t help but snort. “Darling, it’s a cat. He’ll like it either way.”

“What if the red walls are too bright for him? I knew we should’ve gone for the darker burgundy. It feels too crimson in here–” 

“Once again, it’s a cat. I doubt he can tell the difference between crimson and burgundy.” 

(He bit his tongue before he could foolishly admit that he himself struggled to tell the difference. His energy was much more productively spent reaching for the tiny kitten and giving his tummy a gentle scratch.)

Letting out a loud purr, the cat – Socks, as the two of you and his mother’s owner had aptly named him for the white socks his fur formed at the feet – spread out on his back.

You let out an equally loud sound of pure adoration, squeezing your hands against your chest to keep from squishing the new member of your family in an act of cuteness aggression. Your phone was out not long after, the camera app already loading up as you prepared to take as many photos as you could of the adorable sight. Maybe even a video  or five for good measure.

“He’s not entirely black,” Wonwoo noted softly, stroking the small patch of white fur on the kitten’s chest. “At least he’ll be easier to find in the dark.”

“You’d probably find a way to stumble on him anyway,” you grumbled under your breath while adjusting your phone to get the best angle. “God, he’s just perfect from every angle.”

“Of course,” he laughed and nudged your shoulder, “he’s our son after all. He takes after me.”

“You wish. I bet he’s a momma's boy.” You considered for a moment. “Actually, he’d better be a momma’s boy because I’m the one who bought and built him the cat trees!”

He raised a brow. “I helped.”

“You’re just trying to take the credit.” Another worried thought passed right through you. “Do you think he has enough toys? Is two cat trees enough? Should we get him a bigger scratching pad? Oh my god, baby, what if he doesn’t like the food we bought him?!”

His warm hand landed on your shoulder. A kiss was pressed to your cheek. “How about we take a quick family nap and worry about it later?”

“Family nap?” The thought alone made you giddy once again. You leaned into his side, resting your head on his chest as he reclined against the wall. “I knew I married the right guy.”

His chest rumbled with laughter. “You haven’t married me yet.”

“But I fully intend to. Soon. You’re not getting rid of me. Ever.” Your eyes fell closed. “Socks can be our ring carrier.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, darling.”

[evergone]

Being Two Superheroes in Love

Tim Drake x superhero! reader

Warnings: f! reader, implied POC reader but also not enough for me to say you shouldn't read this if you aren't a POC, swearing, fluff to small angst to fluff again.

Description: The reader's boyfriend, Red Robin, knows everything about her, and she just wants to know one thing about him.

Red and blue lights flashed on each of your faces, illuminating your skin and eyes as you watched the goons get loaded into police trucks. Alarms blared through the eerie alleyways of the rougher outskirts of Gotham, signalling a fire that was in the midst of being put out just a couple doors down from the roof you had removed yourselves onto to watch the scene come to a close. The sharp whistle of a cold, whipping wind, broke through the intense jumble of noise, and sent a shiver down your exposed back.

“You’re gonna need another costume for winter,” said Red Robin knowingly.

With a hum, you replied, “I was thinking of adding long sleeves, a halter neck, and some stockings. What do you think?”

You opened your arms wide in preparation to give him a twirl so that he might be able to take in your current costume and imagine it with all the additions, but decided against it when the chill covered you with goosebumps. Crossing your arms again, you hoped he could see enough of your black battle dress already: the stringy straps, the slit in the skirt, the thigh-high boots. Noticing your discomfort, he unclipped the black and red cape from his shoulders, and draped it over yours. Instantly, you were surrounded by warmth.

“Wanna head home?” asked Red Robin, then he quickly added, “We’re having seafood boil for dinner.” To entice you to join him.

“Your family’s the bland kind of white, Red. I don’t know that I trust them to be able to cook something as flavoursome as Cajun food,” you teased with a laugh.

“Half my family isn’t white,” he said, a pleasant smile on his lips as he stared into your e/c eyes.

“I think ‘half’ is a bit overkill… Can I eat upstairs?” you asked.

“You aren’t allowed yet, Y/n/n.” The sweet sound of your nickname on his tongue almost deafened you to the refusal of your request. “I’ll get someone to bring it to the Batcave for us.”

A huff left you, and you rolled your eyes knowing there was no use in trying to convince him since it wasn’t his rule, but Batman’s. Still, you climbed down the fire escape after him, and let him hold your hand as you tried to remember where he had parked his motorbike before the fight. Once you found it, you hopped on behind him, and planted kisses on his back the whole ride to the cave, knowing very well that he could feel each one pressing on him through his suit.

“You know what?” you shouted as you sped through the Friday night traffic.

“What?” replied Red Robin, just as loud.

“I think it’s so unfair that you know my name, and where I live, and all my family member’s names, while all I know about you is the Red Robin stuff,” you said in annoyance.

“That’s your own fault for not having a code name, and inviting me over for a seance, and I already knew all your family because most of them are Leaguers, so that one’s especially not on me,” he chuckled, “Look, if it makes you feel any better, one of my family members is called Damian.”

“You have, like, a billion siblings!” you scoffed and tried to push his body away from yours, only to freak out the second you weren’t completely touching and wrap your arms around him again. “Surely you tell me your name. Or - or if not that, then your mother’s name.”

“Her name was Janet,” he said softly.

“Oh, she’s passed away?” He nodded, and a grave look came over your face. “I’m so sorry, Red. I’m sure she was a wonderful woman, because her son is such a wonderful man.”

At this, he leant back into your hold as you placed a kiss on his helmet where his cheek would otherwise be. You hid your nose in the dip between his neck and his collarbone for the remainder of the ride, all the while complaining about how your ears were freezing, and how dangerously he was driving, and how hungry you were.

Upon your arrival at the Batcave, he rummaged through the large box of unclaimed clothing left there by both family and visitors until he found a hoodie for each of you to pull over your costumes. When you were sufficiently warm enough, he sent a text to one of his siblings to bring down two plates of food, and you made yourselves comfortable around the table typically used for mission debriefs. You kicked your feet up on the armrest of Red Robin’s chair as you slipped into friendly conversation, but at the sight of Signal’s bright yellow suit, and the scent of garlicky seafood, you stood up excitedly.

“Next time, just come upstairs,” said Signal with a tired sigh, “I’ve got school tomorrow, man.”

You took the plates from him, and placed them on the table before you pulled him in for a short hug, and informed him of your not being allowed upstairs. Batman’s orders. You separated from him as you eagerly dug in to the meal. The blend of herbs and spices exploded on your tongue, you could taste smoked paprika and cayenne pepper on top of the obvious garlic and butter, and you had to admit your fault in thinking it wouldn’t be good.

“My compliments to the chef,” you smiled sweetly to Signal.

“I’ll let him know,” he said, and retreated upstairs.

Meanwhile, Red Robin had been watching the way you interacted with his brother, and it wasn’t lost on him how well you had taken to him, just as you had taken so well to the rest of his adoptive family. A small, almost undetectable smile had crept its way onto his lips, and you raised a brow at him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” he responded avoidantly, and raised a forkful of food to his mouth.

You placed a finger on the fork, intercepting its journey, and exclaimed, “You’re making me nervous, tell me!”

“It’s really nothing!” He laughed, and shook his head.

Squinting your eyes at him, you released his fork from your hold, and you went on eating quietly for a while. It wasn’t long, though, before your talkative nature got the better of you, and you pressed him further on the same subject.

“I promise you, it was nothing,” he reiterated.

“Stop it! Just tell me!” you added, “Whatever it was, I won’t judge you, or be weird about it. I just want to know. You know how much I despise secrecy.” With a poke at his domino mask.

He grabbed your finger before it managed to move out of his reach, and opened your palm to hold his. Another of the night’s many complaints was made, this time arguing that you wouldn’t be able to eat if he kept your right hand trapped as it was since you were absolutely hopeless at using your left for anything. But, not wanting to let go, he discarded his own meal to help you with yours. You couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a bemused laugh when he started to move your fork towards you making aeroplane noises, and when he happened to miss your mouth with the food, covering your cheek in sauce.

“Allow me,” he said, and licked the sauce off your face.

“That’s so gross,” you cringed, but he just shrugged and used your closeness to plant a kiss on your glossed pink lips.

Blushing, you turned away from him, letting your hair fall over your shoulder. He smoothly took your hot cheek in his hand, and wiped off all the excess sauce while he lost himself in you.

“If you won’t tell me your secret,” you started quietly, still bright red, “I’ll tell you one of mine.”

“And here I thought you despised secrecy,” he said, every word dripping with sarcasm.

A shake of your head, and then, “I’ve always wished to know what colour your eyes are.”

A pang hit his heart at the softness with which you had spoken. Your gaze drifted from him to the table as if you were ashamed of what you had said, and in that moment, when your perfect e/c eyes were concealed from him, he understood completely the weight behind your words. The crown of his mask came together in a frown as he dropped to his knees in front of you, the picture of a disciple at the foot of his god, and encased your hands entirely in his.

It was part of his training to be hyperaware of the way that people breathed, and it had become second nature to him to always be listening or feeling for it. So when the rise and fall of your chest began to speed up, and he could hear the sharpness of every intake of air, he knew you were on the verge of sobbing.

“I shouldn’t have said anything, I know it’s Batman’s rule—”

“Fuck Batman’s rule.” You snapped your head around to look at him, and he sighed a sigh of relief to see that there weren’t any tears yet. “They’re my eyes, and I’m more than willing to share them with you.”

Unable to let any more time pass, Red Robin peeled off his mask, and deserted it on the floor of the cave. Instinctively, you squeezed your eyes shut until he coaxed you to open them again at which point you were met with the most magnificent blue you had ever seen in your entire life. It rivalled the sea and the sky. It wasn’t cold like crashing waves or storm clouds, but rather, it was the kind of blue seen in the very heart of a fire, right there where it burns the hottest. Framing this excellent display of artistry were long, thick lashes sat under similarly thick, black eyebrows, which were quite well sculpted for a man.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered in astonishment.

Now, it was Red Robin’s turn to blush. The rosy colour coated his ears, and touched the lines under his eyes that you had never seen before. You could do nothing but stare at him as you admired the small sliver of space that was so new to you.

[r-0-x-4-s]

sunrise on the reaping was like this to me (spoilers obviously)

sid: hello brother im gonna die at the end of the book, you dont have to pretend to be attached to me or gimme any character development or interesting character (im here just cus the og trilogy mentioned that i existed… sure as hell sc didnt want me around tho)

lenore dove: im basically lucy gray copy! tho im kinda dumb and eat gummies i find in front of my house left by who-knows-who, yeah yeah im a forced parallel so snow can say to haymitch: you’re just like me fr fr

snow, *chocking tripping and falling over*: im coughing because ive just poisoned that dude that was misbehaving… with poisoned ostriches!!! i need milk cus i just poisoned myself poisoning!!!! i kill my enemies with poison and i eat it too so ive an alibi!

haymitch: *drinks milk in front of him*

snow: i sure hope plutarchs (someone that i really hate cus hes always been rich and im jealous of) home has no surveillance whatsoever that could incriminate me with what im saying! or that this guy, that is abt to get interview in front of capitol citys elite, says that i poison my capitol ennemies!!

snow: i (58m) ve been over my situationship for 40 years but when i met him i relapsed so, aita for trauma dumping on a boy (16m) i just met cus i saw myself in him (he has a gf of the same family of my ex)? hes gonna die in the next week so no really worried of letting him onto gov secrets

snow, when hay wins the games: i guess i will tell him more gov secrets

haymitch: 18+40=58!!! snow was lucy gray bf!!!

plutarch: hey boy i just met, wanna join the revolution? also im totally trustworthy, ive just emotionally tortured families in front of you but chill bro, also i trust that youre not gonna report me to anyone or tell anyone our convos, i have no reason to do so and you’re also 16

beete: revolution, revolution, my son is gonna die, revolution revolution, who knew that revolting had consequences

snow: im gonna kill ur family and gf if you misbehave

haymitch: *misbehaves*

snow: *kills his family and gf*

haymitch:

district 12 be like

haymitch: im kinda bland and boring af in this book, if i didnt have this name i could be a totally different character

maysilee: im the best character in this book

lou lou: im the most interesting plot of this book

wyatt: im the most autistic character in the series (apart from katniss tbf)

effie: and im the most shoehorned character in this book!!! actually i love district 12 and haymitch!!! no… dont go reread the original trilogy…i tell you… ive always been so kind and respectful towards the district haha… yes yes… your memory is wrong… haha…