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@autumnbutterflyy
I held your hand and I felt complete
You can call me Ria <3
𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ Updates may be slow. I write whenever inspiration strikes, but I always appreciate your patience and support. ◡̈
twenties. she/her. virgo. autumn. rain. long roads. bangtan. supernatural. baking. twd. love soft endings. lost wings. late nights. forty-something cats.
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(Mostly Jensen's characters)
Requests: closed.
Latest writing: The end - Dean Winchester
𑣲⋆ Thank you for reading
I've got you
Summary: After an accident, Beau takes care of you in the sweetest way possible. Pairing: Beau x F!Reader Warnings: Mention of accident, injuries, hospital stay, recovery, overprotective Beau, fluff A/N: I just finished Big Sky and I need more. It wasn't enough! I loved Beau so much, so I had to write something for him. | English is not my first language. Word count: 1.4k words
The first thing you noticed when you opened your eyes was the light.
Bright. White. Annoying.
The second was the ache running through your entire body.
And the third was someone holding your hand.
You blinked slowly, trying to make sense of the room. Your head felt heavy, your thoughts even heavier. You turned your head slightly and found Beau asleep in a chair beside the bed, his head resting against your legs.
“Beau?” Your voice came out barely above a whisper.
His head snapped up immediately. “You're awake.” You managed a tired smile.
“What happened?” He pulled the chair closer, taking your hand again.
“You were in a pretty bad accident.” His eyes dropped briefly toward your arm. “You lost a lot of blood and fractured your right arm.” You looked down. The cast confirmed it.
You took a small breath and looked over the rest of yourself. A bandage wrapped around your head, a fresh stitch sat just above your eyebrow, and your right leg was covered in another bandage. Wires and monitors surrounded you.
“Well,” you murmured. “I look great.” Beau let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
“You were unconscious for five days.” Your smile disappeared.
“Five?” He nodded.
“I’m sorry.” You frowned.
“For what?”
His eyes filled with guilt. “If I had answered your calls… if I had gone to pick you up…”
“Beau...”
“I was mad at you,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “And when I finally called back, the hospital answered. They told me you'd been in an accident.” His jaw tightened. “I don't think I've ever been that scared in my life.”
You squeezed his hand as much as you could. “I'm here.” That was all it took.
Beau leaned into you, finally allowing himself to cry. Just a few tears slipped down his cheeks; he didn't want you to see him cry. You held him quietly, running your fingers through his hair.
“I’m really okay, ” you whispered.
After a moment, he pulled back and wiped his face. “You're never allowed to scare me like that again.”
You smiled faintly. “I'll try.”
“That's not good enough.”
A nurse walked in a moment later, stopping when she saw you awake.
“Oh, finally.” She immediately started checking the monitors. “You should've called someone,” she said, glancing toward Beau. “Could you get the doctor?” Beau nodded and stood.
Before leaving, he leaned down and kissed your forehead. “I'll be right back.”
The nurse watched him leave, then smiled.
“Lovely boyfriend, I see” You nodded. “He's been here almost constantly. We practically had to force him to go home and sleep. He even used the sheriff card.”
You smiled to yourself. “That sounds like him.”
You had to stay at the hospital for another three days.
It wasn't exactly fun, but Beau made sure you were never bored.
He brought you food from the Blue Fox whenever he could get away with it, despite the nurses repeatedly reminding him that hospital food existed for a reason.
He sat beside your bed, complained about the television, made terrible jokes, and somehow managed to make the whole place feel a little less like a hospital.
By the time you were finally discharged, you were more than ready to leave.
You expected to go home, but Beau had other plans.
“You're staying with me.” You stared at him.
“Beau—”
“Nope.”
“You can't just decide that.”
“I can, actually.”
“You're not my doctor.”
“No, but I'm your boyfriend.” He grabbed your bag before you could argue. “And your boyfriend says you're staying with him until you're better.”
You couldn't help smiling. “We live two meters apart.”
“I don’t care.”
”Bossy.”
“Alive and bossy. Very important distinction.”
His apartment felt different when you walked inside.
Maybe because you were seeing it through new eyes.
Maybe because you were exhausted.
Or maybe because Beau had spent the entire drive reminding you not to move too quickly, as if you were made of glass.
You smiled when he opened the door.
“You remember when I first met you?” He looked at you.
“Unfortunately.”
You laughed. “You were carrying all those boxes.”
“And you were staring.” He added.
“I was trying to figure out who the handsome guy across the hall was.” Beau's smile widened.
“Yeah. I remember.”
Three years ago, you had been fixing the stubborn lock on your apartment door when a handsome stranger carrying far too many boxes appeared across the hall. The new tenant in the building.
He'd smiled.
You'd stared.
And Beau, apparently, had decided within five minutes that talking to you was a good idea. He never really stopped talking after that and you loved it.
Now, three years later, he carefully helped you inside.
“Okay,” he said. “First things first. Food.”
“Shower.” He frowned.
“Shower?”
“I smell like a hospital.” He sighed.
“Fine. But I'm helping.”
“You're gonna enjoy this.”
“Maybe a little.”
The shower took twice as long as it normally would. You couldn't do half the things you normally did.
Your cast made everything difficult, and after a few frustrated attempts at washing your hair, you finally groaned. “Okay. I hate this.”
Beau smiled softly. “Come here.”
He carefully took the shampoo and helped you wash your hair, when he was done, he helped with your body too, he did it so tenderly and delicately, making sure not to hurt your injured arm.
“You're really good at this.”
“I'm a professional.”
“At what?”
“Taking care of stubborn women.” You laughed.
“I'm not stubborn.”
Beau raised an eyebrow. “You're literally arguing with me while injured.”
“…Okay.”
When you were finally clean, he wrapped you in a towel and helped you into one of his shirts. You looked down at yourself.
“This is huge.”
“Good. Less chance you'll try to escape.”
You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.
The next morning, you woke up to the smell of breakfast. Beau had taken a few days off to stay with you, and he treated it like a full-time job.
He made breakfast.
He reminded you about your medication.
He changed your bandages.
He made sure you rested.
And whenever you complained that you could do something yourself, he'd give you the same look. The look that said absolutely not.
You spent the days together doing almost nothing.
Movies.
Board games.
Reading.
Talking.
Sometimes you simply sat beside each other, enjoying the quiet. And somewhere between one movie and another, you realized something.
You liked this.
Not being injured or needing help.
But having Beau there.
Having him wake up beside you.
Having breakfast together.
Hearing him complain about you always watching cooking shows.
It felt strangely domestic and you weren't sure you wanted it to end.
That evening, you were sitting on the couch when Beau came out of the kitchen with his phone in his hand.
“Want Chinese food?”
You immediately looked up. “Yes.”
“Extra sweet and sour chicken?”
“Obviously.” He smiled and placed the order.
Then he sat beside you. For a moment, he didn't say anything.
You glanced at him. “Why are you being weird?”
“I'm not being weird.”
“You're being weird.”
He sighed. “Okay. Maybe a little.” He took your hand. “The last few days…”
“What about them?”
“I liked them.”
You smiled. “I liked them too.”
“No, I mean…” He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. “I really liked them.” You frowned slightly. “You used my clothes. We slept in the same bed. We had breakfast together. I got to take care of you.”
“You liked taking care of me?”
“I hated why I had to do it.” He smiled. “But I liked having you here.” Your heart skipped. “And I realized something.”
“What?”
“I don't want you to go back across the hall.” You blinked.
“What?” He laughed nervously.
“Look, we've lived across from each other for three years. We already spend most of our time together. We have half our stuff at each other's apartments anyway.”
“Beau…”
“So…” He squeezed your hand. “Why don't you just move in?” You stared at him. He immediately started talking faster. “We'd save money, we'd spend more time together, and honestly, I already have your favorite cereal in my kitchen, so—”
You laughed. “Are you seriously trying to convince me with cereal?”
“It's good cereal.” You leaned closer.
“You're ridiculous.”
“Is that a yes?”
You smiled. “Yes.”
Beau's entire face lit up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He kissed you, laughing softly when you wrapped your arms around him. When you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours.
“Best accident ever?”
“Beau!”
“What? I'm trying to find the silver lining.”
“You are unbelievable.”
He smiled. “I know.”
And as you settled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, you realized that maybe home had never really been the apartment across the hall. Maybe home had been sitting beside you all along.
Poll winner 🧍🏻♀️
I've got you
Summary: After an accident, Beau takes care of you in the sweetest way possible. Pairing: Beau x F!Reader Warnings: Mention of accident, injuries, hospital stay, recovery, overprotective Beau, fluff A/N: I just finished Big Sky and I need more. It wasn't enough! I loved Beau so much, so I had to write something for him. | English is not my first language. Word count: 1.4k words
The first thing you noticed when you opened your eyes was the light.
Bright. White. Annoying.
The second was the ache running through your entire body.
And the third was someone holding your hand.
You blinked slowly, trying to make sense of the room. Your head felt heavy, your thoughts even heavier. You turned your head slightly and found Beau asleep in a chair beside the bed, his head resting against your legs.
“Beau?” Your voice came out barely above a whisper.
His head snapped up immediately. “You're awake.” You managed a tired smile.
“What happened?” He pulled the chair closer, taking your hand again.
“You were in a pretty bad accident.” His eyes dropped briefly toward your arm. “You lost a lot of blood and fractured your right arm.” You looked down. The cast confirmed it.
You took a small breath and looked over the rest of yourself. A bandage wrapped around your head, a fresh stitch sat just above your eyebrow, and your right leg was covered in another bandage. Wires and monitors surrounded you.
“Well,” you murmured. “I look great.” Beau let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
“You were unconscious for five days.” Your smile disappeared.
“Five?” He nodded.
“I’m sorry.” You frowned.
“For what?”
His eyes filled with guilt. “If I had answered your calls… if I had gone to pick you up…”
“Beau...”
“I was mad at you,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “And when I finally called back, the hospital answered. They told me you'd been in an accident.” His jaw tightened. “I don't think I've ever been that scared in my life.”
You squeezed his hand as much as you could. “I'm here.” That was all it took.
Beau leaned into you, finally allowing himself to cry. Just a few tears slipped down his cheeks; he didn't want you to see him cry. You held him quietly, running your fingers through his hair.
“I’m really okay, ” you whispered.
After a moment, he pulled back and wiped his face. “You're never allowed to scare me like that again.”
You smiled faintly. “I'll try.”
“That's not good enough.”
A nurse walked in a moment later, stopping when she saw you awake.
“Oh, finally.” She immediately started checking the monitors. “You should've called someone,” she said, glancing toward Beau. “Could you get the doctor?” Beau nodded and stood.
Before leaving, he leaned down and kissed your forehead. “I'll be right back.”
The nurse watched him leave, then smiled.
“Lovely boyfriend, I see” You nodded. “He's been here almost constantly. We practically had to force him to go home and sleep. He even used the sheriff card.”
You smiled to yourself. “That sounds like him.”
You had to stay at the hospital for another three days.
It wasn't exactly fun, but Beau made sure you were never bored.
He brought you food from the Blue Fox whenever he could get away with it, despite the nurses repeatedly reminding him that hospital food existed for a reason.
He sat beside your bed, complained about the television, made terrible jokes, and somehow managed to make the whole place feel a little less like a hospital.
By the time you were finally discharged, you were more than ready to leave.
You expected to go home, but Beau had other plans.
“You're staying with me.” You stared at him.
“Beau—”
“Nope.”
“You can't just decide that.”
“I can, actually.”
“You're not my doctor.”
“No, but I'm your boyfriend.” He grabbed your bag before you could argue. “And your boyfriend says you're staying with him until you're better.”
You couldn't help smiling. “We live two meters apart.”
“I don’t care.”
”Bossy.”
“Alive and bossy. Very important distinction.”
His apartment felt different when you walked inside.
Maybe because you were seeing it through new eyes.
Maybe because you were exhausted.
Or maybe because Beau had spent the entire drive reminding you not to move too quickly, as if you were made of glass.
You smiled when he opened the door.
“You remember when I first met you?” He looked at you.
“Unfortunately.”
You laughed. “You were carrying all those boxes.”
“And you were staring.” He added.
“I was trying to figure out who the handsome guy across the hall was.” Beau's smile widened.
“Yeah. I remember.”
Three years ago, you had been fixing the stubborn lock on your apartment door when a handsome stranger carrying far too many boxes appeared across the hall. The new tenant in the building.
He'd smiled.
You'd stared.
And Beau, apparently, had decided within five minutes that talking to you was a good idea. He never really stopped talking after that and you loved it.
Now, three years later, he carefully helped you inside.
“Okay,” he said. “First things first. Food.”
“Shower.” He frowned.
“Shower?”
“I smell like a hospital.” He sighed.
“Fine. But I'm helping.”
“You're gonna enjoy this.”
“Maybe a little.”
The shower took twice as long as it normally would. You couldn't do half the things you normally did.
Your cast made everything difficult, and after a few frustrated attempts at washing your hair, you finally groaned. “Okay. I hate this.”
Beau smiled softly. “Come here.”
He carefully took the shampoo and helped you wash your hair, when he was done, he helped with your body too, he did it so tenderly and delicately, making sure not to hurt your injured arm.
“You're really good at this.”
“I'm a professional.”
“At what?”
“Taking care of stubborn women.” You laughed.
“I'm not stubborn.”
Beau raised an eyebrow. “You're literally arguing with me while injured.”
“…Okay.”
When you were finally clean, he wrapped you in a towel and helped you into one of his shirts. You looked down at yourself.
“This is huge.”
“Good. Less chance you'll try to escape.”
You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.
The next morning, you woke up to the smell of breakfast. Beau had taken a few days off to stay with you, and he treated it like a full-time job.
He made breakfast.
He reminded you about your medication.
He changed your bandages.
He made sure you rested.
And whenever you complained that you could do something yourself, he'd give you the same look. The look that said absolutely not.
You spent the days together doing almost nothing.
Movies.
Board games.
Reading.
Talking.
Sometimes you simply sat beside each other, enjoying the quiet. And somewhere between one movie and another, you realized something.
You liked this.
Not being injured or needing help.
But having Beau there.
Having him wake up beside you.
Having breakfast together.
Hearing him complain about you always watching cooking shows.
It felt strangely domestic and you weren't sure you wanted it to end.
That evening, you were sitting on the couch when Beau came out of the kitchen with his phone in his hand.
“Want Chinese food?”
You immediately looked up. “Yes.”
“Extra sweet and sour chicken?”
“Obviously.” He smiled and placed the order.
Then he sat beside you. For a moment, he didn't say anything.
You glanced at him. “Why are you being weird?”
“I'm not being weird.”
“You're being weird.”
He sighed. “Okay. Maybe a little.” He took your hand. “The last few days…”
“What about them?”
“I liked them.”
You smiled. “I liked them too.”
“No, I mean…” He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. “I really liked them.” You frowned slightly. “You used my clothes. We slept in the same bed. We had breakfast together. I got to take care of you.”
“You liked taking care of me?”
“I hated why I had to do it.” He smiled. “But I liked having you here.” Your heart skipped. “And I realized something.”
“What?”
“I don't want you to go back across the hall.” You blinked.
“What?” He laughed nervously.
“Look, we've lived across from each other for three years. We already spend most of our time together. We have half our stuff at each other's apartments anyway.”
“Beau…”
“So…” He squeezed your hand. “Why don't you just move in?” You stared at him. He immediately started talking faster. “We'd save money, we'd spend more time together, and honestly, I already have your favorite cereal in my kitchen, so—”
You laughed. “Are you seriously trying to convince me with cereal?”
“It's good cereal.” You leaned closer.
“You're ridiculous.”
“Is that a yes?”
You smiled. “Yes.”
Beau's entire face lit up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He kissed you, laughing softly when you wrapped your arms around him. When you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours.
“Best accident ever?”
“Beau!”
“What? I'm trying to find the silver lining.”
“You are unbelievable.”
He smiled. “I know.”
And as you settled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, you realized that maybe home had never really been the apartment across the hall. Maybe home had been sitting beside you all along.
Poll winner 🧍🏻♀️
I've got you
Summary: After an accident, Beau takes care of you in the sweetest way possible. Pairing: Beau x F!Reader Warnings: Mention of accident, injuries, hospital stay, recovery, overprotective Beau, fluff A/N: I just finished Big Sky and I need more. It wasn't enough! I loved Beau so much, so I had to write something for him. | English is not my first language. Word count: 1.4k words
The first thing you noticed when you opened your eyes was the light.
Bright. White. Annoying.
The second was the ache running through your entire body.
And the third was someone holding your hand.
You blinked slowly, trying to make sense of the room. Your head felt heavy, your thoughts even heavier. You turned your head slightly and found Beau asleep in a chair beside the bed, his head resting against your legs.
“Beau?” Your voice came out barely above a whisper.
His head snapped up immediately. “You're awake.” You managed a tired smile.
“What happened?” He pulled the chair closer, taking your hand again.
“You were in a pretty bad accident.” His eyes dropped briefly toward your arm. “You lost a lot of blood and fractured your right arm.” You looked down. The cast confirmed it.
You took a small breath and looked over the rest of yourself. A bandage wrapped around your head, a fresh stitch sat just above your eyebrow, and your right leg was covered in another bandage. Wires and monitors surrounded you.
“Well,” you murmured. “I look great.” Beau let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
“You were unconscious for five days.” Your smile disappeared.
“Five?” He nodded.
“I’m sorry.” You frowned.
“For what?”
His eyes filled with guilt. “If I had answered your calls… if I had gone to pick you up…”
“Beau...”
“I was mad at you,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “And when I finally called back, the hospital answered. They told me you'd been in an accident.” His jaw tightened. “I don't think I've ever been that scared in my life.”
You squeezed his hand as much as you could. “I'm here.” That was all it took.
Beau leaned into you, finally allowing himself to cry. Just a few tears slipped down his cheeks; he didn't want you to see him cry. You held him quietly, running your fingers through his hair.
“I’m really okay, ” you whispered.
After a moment, he pulled back and wiped his face. “You're never allowed to scare me like that again.”
You smiled faintly. “I'll try.”
“That's not good enough.”
A nurse walked in a moment later, stopping when she saw you awake.
“Oh, finally.” She immediately started checking the monitors. “You should've called someone,” she said, glancing toward Beau. “Could you get the doctor?” Beau nodded and stood.
Before leaving, he leaned down and kissed your forehead. “I'll be right back.”
The nurse watched him leave, then smiled.
“Lovely boyfriend, I see” You nodded. “He's been here almost constantly. We practically had to force him to go home and sleep. He even used the sheriff card.”
You smiled to yourself. “That sounds like him.”
You had to stay at the hospital for another three days.
It wasn't exactly fun, but Beau made sure you were never bored.
He brought you food from the Blue Fox whenever he could get away with it, despite the nurses repeatedly reminding him that hospital food existed for a reason.
He sat beside your bed, complained about the television, made terrible jokes, and somehow managed to make the whole place feel a little less like a hospital.
By the time you were finally discharged, you were more than ready to leave.
You expected to go home, but Beau had other plans.
“You're staying with me.” You stared at him.
“Beau—”
“Nope.”
“You can't just decide that.”
“I can, actually.”
“You're not my doctor.”
“No, but I'm your boyfriend.” He grabbed your bag before you could argue. “And your boyfriend says you're staying with him until you're better.”
You couldn't help smiling. “We live two meters apart.”
“I don’t care.”
”Bossy.”
“Alive and bossy. Very important distinction.”
His apartment felt different when you walked inside.
Maybe because you were seeing it through new eyes.
Maybe because you were exhausted.
Or maybe because Beau had spent the entire drive reminding you not to move too quickly, as if you were made of glass.
You smiled when he opened the door.
“You remember when I first met you?” He looked at you.
“Unfortunately.”
You laughed. “You were carrying all those boxes.”
“And you were staring.” He added.
“I was trying to figure out who the handsome guy across the hall was.” Beau's smile widened.
“Yeah. I remember.”
Three years ago, you had been fixing the stubborn lock on your apartment door when a handsome stranger carrying far too many boxes appeared across the hall. The new tenant in the building.
He'd smiled.
You'd stared.
And Beau, apparently, had decided within five minutes that talking to you was a good idea. He never really stopped talking after that and you loved it.
Now, three years later, he carefully helped you inside.
“Okay,” he said. “First things first. Food.”
“Shower.” He frowned.
“Shower?”
“I smell like a hospital.” He sighed.
“Fine. But I'm helping.”
“You're gonna enjoy this.”
“Maybe a little.”
The shower took twice as long as it normally would. You couldn't do half the things you normally did.
Your cast made everything difficult, and after a few frustrated attempts at washing your hair, you finally groaned. “Okay. I hate this.”
Beau smiled softly. “Come here.”
He carefully took the shampoo and helped you wash your hair, when he was done, he helped with your body too, he did it so tenderly and delicately, making sure not to hurt your injured arm.
“You're really good at this.”
“I'm a professional.”
“At what?”
“Taking care of stubborn women.” You laughed.
“I'm not stubborn.”
Beau raised an eyebrow. “You're literally arguing with me while injured.”
“…Okay.”
When you were finally clean, he wrapped you in a towel and helped you into one of his shirts. You looked down at yourself.
“This is huge.”
“Good. Less chance you'll try to escape.”
You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.
The next morning, you woke up to the smell of breakfast. Beau had taken a few days off to stay with you, and he treated it like a full-time job.
He made breakfast.
He reminded you about your medication.
He changed your bandages.
He made sure you rested.
And whenever you complained that you could do something yourself, he'd give you the same look. The look that said absolutely not.
You spent the days together doing almost nothing.
Movies.
Board games.
Reading.
Talking.
Sometimes you simply sat beside each other, enjoying the quiet. And somewhere between one movie and another, you realized something.
You liked this.
Not being injured or needing help.
But having Beau there.
Having him wake up beside you.
Having breakfast together.
Hearing him complain about you always watching cooking shows.
It felt strangely domestic and you weren't sure you wanted it to end.
That evening, you were sitting on the couch when Beau came out of the kitchen with his phone in his hand.
“Want Chinese food?”
You immediately looked up. “Yes.”
“Extra sweet and sour chicken?”
“Obviously.” He smiled and placed the order.
Then he sat beside you. For a moment, he didn't say anything.
You glanced at him. “Why are you being weird?”
“I'm not being weird.”
“You're being weird.”
He sighed. “Okay. Maybe a little.” He took your hand. “The last few days…”
“What about them?”
“I liked them.”
You smiled. “I liked them too.”
“No, I mean…” He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. “I really liked them.” You frowned slightly. “You used my clothes. We slept in the same bed. We had breakfast together. I got to take care of you.”
“You liked taking care of me?”
“I hated why I had to do it.” He smiled. “But I liked having you here.” Your heart skipped. “And I realized something.”
“What?”
“I don't want you to go back across the hall.” You blinked.
“What?” He laughed nervously.
“Look, we've lived across from each other for three years. We already spend most of our time together. We have half our stuff at each other's apartments anyway.”
“Beau…”
“So…” He squeezed your hand. “Why don't you just move in?” You stared at him. He immediately started talking faster. “We'd save money, we'd spend more time together, and honestly, I already have your favorite cereal in my kitchen, so—”
You laughed. “Are you seriously trying to convince me with cereal?”
“It's good cereal.” You leaned closer.
“You're ridiculous.”
“Is that a yes?”
You smiled. “Yes.”
Beau's entire face lit up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He kissed you, laughing softly when you wrapped your arms around him. When you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours.
“Best accident ever?”
“Beau!”
“What? I'm trying to find the silver lining.”
“You are unbelievable.”
He smiled. “I know.”
And as you settled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, you realized that maybe home had never really been the apartment across the hall. Maybe home had been sitting beside you all along.
Headcanon: Just Know I'm a Girl Dad
❧ Characters: Russell Shaw, Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy/Ben, Mark Meachum and Boaz Priestly
❧ Scenario: Requested from AO3: I if possible would like to request a chapter where we see how they would act as a girl dad please.
❧ Pairings: Russell Shaw x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader, Beau Arlen x Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader, Mark Meachum x Reader, Boaz Priestly x Reader
Russell Shaw
You could remember Russell panicking when he found out you were having a girl.
A girl?! He had absolutely no idea what he was going to do. But Russell had been taught from a very young age to adapt to whatever life threw at him.
So he adapted. He became a girl dad.
And somewhere along the way, his little girl became his entire world. He'd do anything to make her happy. Big or small.
You decided to spend the weekend camping, which meant a road trip in Russell's Malibu.
Your daughter sat happily in the back in her car seat, the warm sun shining down on her as she begged her dad to put the roof down.
She loved it. She loved the wind rushing through her hair, giggling as she watched the scenery fly past. That was...
Until her hair came loose.
A strand whipped across her face, then another, until half her hair was flying into her eyes and obscuring her view. Her giggles quickly turned into frustrated whines. Russell noticed her in the rear-view mirror before you did.
He glanced at you. You turned around to see your daughter looking thoroughly unimpressed with the situation.
You reached for your bag, "I've got a hair tie somewhere." Russell pulled the Malibu into a nearby lay-by. "I can't find one," you mumbled, rummaging through your bag.
"Glovebox."
You leaned forward and opened it. Inside were the usual things you'd expect from Russell's car—clothes, cables and wheel nuts.
Then you spotted two small pouches. One pink. One purple. You pulled both out, turning towards Russell with a confused expression. "What are these?" You opened the pink one. Inside were hair ties, lip balm, a little yellow bucket hat, wet wipes and several glittery hair clips. You stared at it.
Then slowly looked at Russell. "What's this?" You held up a hair tie.
"It's my emergency kit."
"Your what?"
"Everything she might need." Russell took the hair tie from you before turning around and leaning over his seat. "Come here, kiddo." Your daughter happily leaned forward as he carefully gathered her hair, tying it back into a little ponytail. He then grabbed the bucket hat and placed it on her head, adjusting it until it sat properly. He even fastened the little chin strap.
Your daughter beamed. "Thank you, Daddy."
"You're welcome, princess." Russell turned back around and settled into the driver's seat. You were still staring at him. He simply shrugged. "Gotta be prepared."
You looked back at the glovebox. "How?"
"Some guy online said you should always have hair ties." You couldn't help smiling. He nodded towards the purple pouch in your lap. "That's yours."
You opened it. Inside were snacks, tampons, a pair of sunglasses, a few painkillers and a small hand fan. You blinked. Then smiled. You'd forgotten your sunglasses. You pulled out the energy bar and sunglasses, shaking your head as you looked at him.
"You have emergency kits for both of us?"
He shrugged again. "You're always forgetting shit."
You laughed under your breath, putting the pouches back in the glovebox. You deliberately refused to look in his direction. You could already imagine the smug expression on his face. "Just drive, Shaw."
Dean Winchester
Dean was late.
Again.
You'd made him promise he'd be back in time for this. It was a big deal to your little you, and you'd promised her that Daddy would be there.
You sat in the third row of the auditorium, staring at the empty seat beside you. You could feel the other mother's eyes on you. You couldn't tell whether they were looking at you with pity or quietly mocking you. You kept your eyes on the stage.
A group of adorable five-year-olds were doing their best to remember the steps to their ballet routine. Every now and again, one of them would stop mid-dance and wave excitedly when they spotted their parents in the audience.
Your heart sank. You couldn't help imagining the look on your daughter's face when she looked into the crowd and saw you... But not Dean.
Her dance was next.
You reached for your phone again, checking the screen even though you already knew there wouldn't be anything new.
Then you heard footsteps. Quiet apologies. Someone squeezing past knees and whispering excuses.
You looked up just as Dean dropped into the empty seat beside you, breathing heavily. He made it.
"Cutting it close, Winchester," you whispered, keeping your eyes on the stage as the children shuffled off.
"I'm sorry." He caught his breath. "The job ran longer than expected." He chose his words carefully, ears everywhere. You glanced at him. "And I stopped to get her these." He lifted a small bouquet of red roses from his lap.
You stared at him. "You got those for her?"
Dean nodded. "It's her big day." His eyes softened as he looked towards the stage. "I'm proud of her."
Your heart melted. Of course it did. You'd fallen in love with Dean Winchester a long time ago. But watching him become a father had somehow made you fall all over again.
Dean carefully pulled one of the roses from the bouquet and held it out to you. "Forgive me, sweetheart?"
You accepted it, trying desperately not to smile. "You're lucky you're charming, Winchester."
Dean grinned. "I know."
He settled back into his seat, draping an arm along the back of your chair. Then the music started. Your daughter's class walked onto the stage. You immediately spotted her.
She stood nervously amongst the other little girls, looking out into the audience. Her eyes searched the rows. Then she found you. Her face lit up, growing when she spotted Dean right next to you.
"Go on, sweetheart!" He whispered, a huge grin spreading across his face as he waved at her. She waved back instantly before starting her dance.
Beau Arlen
You were excited to see Beau's Jeep in the driveway.
These days, it was rare for the two of you to have any real alone time. Between work, parenting and the endless exhaustion that came with having a young child, you were both too tired to talk, hang out or even have your regular movie nights.
But now, you little girl was finally at school. Maybe you could have a couple of hours with your husband.
The house was quiet when you walked inside. The kitchen was empty. The living room was empty. You poked your head into Beau's office. Empty.
"Goddammit!"
You frowned. The voice had come from down the hallway. Your daughter's playroom. Why the hell was he in there?
As you got closer, you could hear a constant stream of frustrated groans coming from inside.
You stopped in the doorway. Beau was sitting in one of your daughter's tiny chairs, which looked like it was struggling to support a man of his size. In front of him sat a styling head—the kind of doll's head designed for children to practise hairstyles and makeup on. Apparently, your husband had decided to spend his afternoon doing exactly that.
You cleared your throat. "Beau?"
At the sound of your voice, he dropped everything. He immediately tried to stand, only for the tiny chair to remain firmly attached to him. He stumbled forward, nearly taking out the nearest wall.
"Hey, darlin'," he said, trying, and failing, to act like nothing had happened. "Whatcha doing home early?"
You furrowed your brow. "It's three."
He glanced at his watch. "I've been here for three hours?"
"Apparently."
"Shit." He ran a hand through his hair, looking mildly horrified by the realisation.
You stepped further into the room, your eyes wandering over the table. The styling head was covered in evidence of his efforts. Several failed braids. A crooked ponytail. Something that might have been a bun?
You looked back at him. "Are you... learning how to do her hair?" A soft smile tugged at your lips.
Beau nodded, suddenly looking a little sheepish.
"Yeah. I watched some YouTube videos at work and thought I could give it a try." He sat back down, apparently accepting that the chair was his home now. "I never got to do it with Emily. Carla was always such a perfectionist about her hair." He glanced down at the styling head. "I wanted to try this time."
Your heart softened. You pulled out the little chair beside him and sat down, immediately discovering that it was just as uncomfortable as his. "Why didn't you ask me?"
"Because you already do so much."
"Beau..."
"You're always tired. I didn't wanna give you something else to worry about." He started rambling, his hands gesturing helplessly. "You've got work, the house, her school stuff and—"
"Beau!" He stopped. You laughed softly. "Let me teach you."
His entire posture changed. He sat up straighter, suddenly looking like you'd just give him an important mission.
"Okay."
You couldn't help but smile.
There was something incredibly sweet about watching this man—your husband, a sheriff, someone who had faced things far more intimidating than a child's hairstyle—sit in a tiny pink chair and take braiding lessons because he wanted to be able to do his daughter's hair.
Soldier Boy
Ben didn't want a girl.
He wanted a boy. A legacy. He mourned the son he thought he would never have.
Then he met her. She was perfect. A beautiful combination of the two of you. His eyes. Your nose. Your smile. He was a goner. She had him wrapped around her little finger before she could even say 'Dada.'
So it didn't surprise you when his reaction to his daughter coming home from school and announcing she was going on her first date was... less than enthusiastic.
You were thrilled for her. She was practically bouncing with excitement over the fact that the boy she'd liked had finally asked her out.
Ben, however, wasn't.
"Where are you going?"
Your daughter rolled her eyes. "Dinner."
"Where?"
"Olive Garden"
"With who?"
"Dad."
"What's his name?"
She sighed. "Ethan."
"Last Name?"
"Miller." Ben stared at her. She stared back. "Seriously?"
"You want me to trust this Ethan kid with my daughter? Soldier Boy's daughter? I need information."
You gave him a warning look. "Ben."
He shrugged. "What? He sounds like a fucking idiot."
"You don't even know him," your daughter pleaded.
"I know boys at that age. I know what they want."
"Oh my god! Dad! Ew!"
"See! Even you know."
Your daughter rolled her eyes, grabbing her purse. "I'm going!"
"Have fun sweetie." You called after her.
She barely made it to the door before Ben caught her arm. His expression softened as she turned back to him. "I just want my little girl to be safe, okay?"
"I'm not that little anymore, Dad."
"You are to me." He looked towards you, clearly hoping you'd back him up. You didn't. Ben sighed. "Okay, have fun." Your daughter smiled. "But if he does something you don't want to do, what do you do?"
"I'll call you."
"And....?"
She paused, looking at him with a completely straight face. "I break his thumbs and twist his dick off."
You stared at them both in shock. Ben, on the other hand, grinned. "That's my girl!" He pulled his daughter into a tight hug.
She laughed, kissing his cheek before waving goodbye to you and heading out the door.
You slowly turned towards Ben, placing your hands on your hips. "Twist his dick off?"
"What?" He glanced towards the door, his expression immediately turning suspicious. "I taught her some moves if she got in trouble." He continued staring at the door. "Do you fancy dinner at the Oliver Garden?"
"Ben."
"What?"
"You are not following them."
"I wasn't going to." He looked offended. "I just wanted to make sure they got there safely.”
You scoffed, walking away from him. Ben remained in the foyer, glaring at the front door. "...I'm gonna kill that kid."
Mark Meachum
At work, he was Detective Mark Meachum of the LAPD.
Calm. Respected. The kind of man people thought twice about crossing.
At home? He was dad. And apparently, dad had a tea party to attend.
You weren't surprised when you walked into the living room one afternoon to find a scene that could only be described as adorable.
Your little girl was dressed in her favourite Cinderella dress, fake pearl necklaces dangling over the top and plastic shoes three sizes too big for her little feet. She carefully adjusted the tiara sitting on her head before picking up the tiny teapot and pouring imaginary tea into each plastic mug.
Mark sat at the ridiculously low table, his legs splayed awkwardly on either side. A light pink, frilly apron barely fit around his neck, thrown over his navy T-shirt and grey sweats.
He felt completely ridiculous. And yet, he was taking the tea party very seriously. He stirred his imaginary tea with a plastic spoon, nodding along as his daughter chatted away.
"Sugar, Daddy?" she asked, holding a tiny plate covered in plastic cubes.
"Thanks, princess." He took a couple and dropped them into his mug.
"Room for one more?" You asked.
Your daughter immediately jumped to her feet, clapping excitedly. "Mommy!" She ran over, grabbed your hand and dragged you towards the table before you could even put your bag down. "Come sit!" She placed a pair of bunny ears and star-shaped sunglasses on your head before handing you a tiny cup. "Tea for you."
"Thank you, sweetie."
Meanwhile, Mark looked defeated. Not because you'd interrupted his tea party. Because you'd caught him being a softie.
You rested a hand on his knee, biting back a smile. "You look adorable."
"I don't feel adorable," he muttered.
"I think pink is your colour," you chuckled softly, glancing towards your daughter. She was too busy pouring more imaginary tea to notice. You sighed, rubbing your thumb against his knee. "I like that you do this with her."
His expression softened as he glanced at your daughter. "Yeah, well..." He stared down at the apron. "Anything to make her happy."
Your heart melted. "I think that's kind of hot."
His eyes flicked back to yours. A smirk slowly spread across his face. "Yeah?"
You nodded. He leaned towards you, meeting you halfway as your lips brushed together.
"Ew!" You immediately pulled apart. "No kissing!" Your daughter glared at the two of you with the exact same expression Mark used whenever someone annoyed him.
You couldn't help but laugh. "Sorry, sweetie."
Mark shook his head, trying to hide his amusement before turning back to his daughter. He took a thoughtful sip of his imaginary tea. "Do you have any biscuits?"
Her face lit up. She immediately ran towards the little plastic oven in the corner to retrieve them. Mark watched her go, then slowly turned back to you. "I'm so screwed."
You smiled, reaching over to straighten the dainty apron around his neck. "You were screwed the second you set eyes on her."
Boaz Priestly
You were in the kitchen making lunch while Priestly and your daughter sat in the living room.
Today's activity?
Spa day.
Priestly has his bare feet propped up on the coffee table, his hands resting loosely on his legs and his head tilted back against the sofa.
Your daughter had stolen one of your fluffy headbands and pushed Priestly's hair back with it. Not that he needed it. The mohawk was hardly getting in the way.
He relaxed against the sofa as he let his 'face mask' work it's magic.
Except it wasn't a face mask.
While you weren't looking, your daughter had stolen a jar of strawberry jam from the kitchen and spread it all over his face.
Priestly had absolutely no idea. He was far too relaxed.
Beside the sofa, your daughter sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully painting the last few nails on his right hand. His left was already done. So were his toes.
His fingers and toes were now an impressive assortment of colours, most of the polish make it onto the skin surrounding his nails rather than the nails themselves.
And Priestly couldn't have been happier.
You finished making lunch and walked into the living room carrying two plates of sandwiches.
You placed them on the coffee table before your eyes landed on Priestly's face.
You froze. Then you noticed the empty jar of strawberry jam sitting beside the plate. You bit the inside of your cheek, desperately trying not to laugh. Your eyes met your daughter's. She smiled innocently.
"Enjoying your face mask, babe?"
"Yeah." Priestly sighed contentedly. "Feels good."
You raised an eyebrow. "Does it taste nice?"
One of his eyes slowly opened. He looked at you, saw your expression. His eyes narrowed. Suspicious. He poked his tongue out, swiping it across the corner of his mouth. He froze. His brow furrowed as he tried to identify the taste. "... Is that strawberry jam?" You finally lost the battle, a laugh escaping. "Why do I have strawberry jam on my face?"
He looked towards his daughter. She was already rolling around on the floor, laughing. Priestly shook his head, a grin spreading across his face. "I let you do spa day and you put jam on my face?"
"No," she managed between giggles.
"No?"
He reached down, scooping her up by the waist and pulled her onto his lap. She squealed as he started tickling her side. "No?" She dissolved into laughter. "Maybe you should have some." He gathered some of the jam from his cheek, smearing it onto her nose.
"No!" She tried desperately to wriggle out of his grip, but Priestly only wiped more jam onto her.
"Too late!" Soon, both of them were laughing so hard that neither could breathe properly.
A few minutes later, they calmed down. You sat beside them, looking over the colourful disaster that was Priestly's hands and feet. "I like your nails."
Priestly glanced down at them. The polish was uneven. Some of it had clearly missed the nail entirely. It was terrible, but she did it. He smiled anyway. "Yeah. Me too." He wiggled his fingers. "They look cool." He looked down at your daughter, who was still giggling against his chest. He kissed the top of her head. "Thanks, sweetheart."
She beamed. And you couldn't help but smile.
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Main Masterlist
Which character should I write next? 🤓
Jason Teague
Soldier boy
Beau Arlen
Boaz Priestly
I have a few ideas, but I can't decide who to write first.
We have a winner sooo the order of the upcoming stories will be:
Beau Arlen (since my last writting was with Soldier boy) Soldier Boy Jason Teague Boaz Priestly
Which character should I write next? 🤓
Jason Teague
Soldier boy
Beau Arlen
Boaz Priestly
I have a few ideas, but I can't decide who to write first.
100 followers 💌 Thank you so much for reading my stories. I honestly never thought I'd reach this milestone, especially writing in my second language. Every like, reblog and comment means a lot to me. Thank you for giving my little ideas a chance. I'm trying to be more active, later i'll post a poll to choose whose story will be next <3
will forever love the supernatural s1 aesthetic
The End
Summary: Dean is sent five years into the future. What he finds isn't just a world that lost the war, that isn't the hardest thing to face, the way you look at the man he's become is. Pairing: Dean x F.Reader (Hunter) Warnings: 2 Deans(Future/Present), established relationship (with present Dean) apocalyptic world, angst. A/N: This takes place during S5 Ep 4, This was a vision from Zachariah to Dean, and it shows him “the future”(Just refreshing) so this takes place only on the vision. | English is not my first language. Word count: 2k words
Dean hadn’t felt peace till he saw you.
Nothing about this future felt right, Sam couldn’t make it, and after everything he'd heard, he'd been almost afraid to ask about you.
“She’s around” was everything his future self said, he didn’t let him ask more.
So after freeing himself, he went looking for you, he met Chuck and a version of Cas funnier than he ever thought he'd meet.
When he finally spotted you, relief flooded through him.
You were carrying a wooden crate across the camp, your hair longer than he remembered, a thin scar cutting through one eyebrow. You handed the box to one of the younger survivors with the same gentle smile he'd known for years.
Then you turned around. Your eyes met his, and an immediate soft smile spread across his face.
“I’d thought you were out” you said, walking toward him. Dean smiled before he could stop himself. “Something’s wrong?”
“No, everything’s perfect” He closed the distance between you “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“What’s with you today?” His hand rose almost hesitantly, his fingertips grazing the scar that cut across his eyebrow.
"What happened here?" You stared at him for another long second. Your heart ached, your eyes filled instantly. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re not him” you whispered.
“What?”
"You're Dean..." Your voice broke. "...but you're not my Dean." Dean's smile slowly faded.
"You mean future me?" he asked quietly. "Yeah... I'm not him. How'd you know?" You looked at him with a sad little smile.
"My Dean stopped looking at me like that years ago." Dean lowered his hand. You wiped a few tears from your face looking away.
“We’re okay, right? Future me and you?” your eyes met his again, you forced a smile.
“We’ve been through a lot, and we’ve made it, just not together” Dean’s stomach dropped.
“What? Did I--”
“I should’ve handcuffed both your hands before I left.” Future Dean walked toward the two of you, rifle slung over one shoulder. "I leave you alone for five minutes..."
You instinctively stepped toward him. “Dean you’re bleeding.” You reached for his face, gently tilting his chin to get a better look at the cut on his forehead. "It's not bad. Let me clean it."
“I’m fine” you sighed.
“Dean…”
“I said I’m fine.” He said pulling away. Your hand slowly fell back to your side. ”Can you give us a minute? Need to talk to him.” he asked, still avoiding your eyes.
You turned and walked back toward your cabin. Halfway there, you glanced over your shoulder. He was already walking away. Dean watched you disappear before turning back to his future self.
"Come on." Future Dean said walking to his cabin.
“Why’d you do that?” present Dean asked, following after him. "She was trying to help you.”
"Yeah." Future Dean didn't slow down. "She always does."
"Then why push her away?"
"Because it's easier that way." Future Dean opened the cabin door. "Get in." Dean stepped inside after him. The door shut behind them.
"She said we're not together." He crossed his arms. "What happened?"
Future Dean busied himself setting his rifle against the wall. "Life."
"Don't be an ass. Hours ago we were in the same bed, she kissed us before we went to sleep, and you're telling me we're not together anymore." Future Dean let out a humorless chuckle.
"Five years changes a lot." He crossed the cabin, setting a duffel bag on the table before unzipping it. Inside were loose rounds of ammunition, a half-empty first aid kit and a worn cleaning cloth. Without another word, he started checking every magazine one by one.
"Not that."
"You'd be surprised."
"No." Dean shook his head. "Not her.” Future Dean sighed, ejecting the bullets onto the table.
"Look—"
”Did she leave?" He slid another magazine into place.
“No”
"Did we stop loving her?" That finally made Future Dean pause. His hands rested on the table for a second before he looked up.
"I never said that."
"Then what the hell happened?"
"The world ended."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one." Future Dean grabbed a rifle leaning against the wall, disassembled it, and started cleaning the barrel.
"You don't stop looking at someone like that because the world's ending." Future Dean didn't answer immediately. He screwed the barrel back together, checked the sight, then reached for another box of shells.
"…No" Dean waited. Future Dean kept working. "You stop because every time she looks at you..." He finally spoke, eyes fixed on the rifle instead of his younger self. "...she reminds you of the man you used to be."
Silence settled between them.
Future Dean slid the rifle into its case before speaking again. "She still patches me up. Still waits up if I'm late. Still asks if I've eaten." He swallowed. "Still believes I'm worth saving."
Dean lowered his gaze. "...So why'd you push her away?"
Future Dean tightened one of the straps on the bag. "Because every day she stays..." he said softly, "...is another day she loses a little more because of me."
Dean frowned. "That's not your choice."
"No." Future Dean finally looked at him. "But it's the only one I had left."
The cabin fell quiet.
Future Dean busied himself with the last buckle on the duffel bag, pulling it tight before tossing it onto the table.
Dean leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
"So this is it?"
"This is it."
"You just... exist like this?"
Future Dean didn't answer.
Outside, the camp carried on as usual. Distant voices. Someone chopping wood. A dog barking somewhere beyond the fence.
Then Dean frowned. "...Where is she?"
Future Dean didn't even look up. "What?"
"She was here." Dean walked to the window, scanning the camp."I don't see her."
Future Dean finally stopped pretending not to hear. "...She probably went out."
Dean turned. "Went where?"
"Patrol." Dean's expression changed immediately.
"You let her go?" Future Dean exhaled through his nose.
"I didn't 'let' her do anything." Dean was already opening the cabin door. Outside, a hunter walked past carrying supplies.
"You!" Dean called. The man stopped.
"The girl who was here a while ago—where is she?"
The hunter looked confused. "North perimeter."
"How long ago?"
"Couple hours." Dean looked toward the tree line.
"...She's been gone for hours." Future Dean stepped outside behind him.
"When was she supposed to be back?"
The hunter shrugged. "About thirty minutes ago."
Dean's head snapped toward his older self.
"You don't seem very concerned."
Future Dean stared toward the woods. "...Miller's with her."
Dean frowned.
"So?"
"So he's good."
"You keep telling yourself that."
Another hunter crossed the camp. Future Dean stopped him. "You heard from Miller?"
Dean immediately looked over.
The hunter shook his head.
"No." Future Dean nodded once.
"Let me know the second they're back."
The man walked off. Dean looked at him for a long moment.
"...Thought you didn't need her close."
Future Dean didn't answer. He kept staring toward the trees. His jaw clenched. Without saying anything, he reached for the rifle hanging beside the cabin door, getting back to what he was doing before.
Dean noticed immediately. "What are you doing?"
Future Dean checked the magazine. "Nothing."
"Dean."
“She'll be fine."
Before either of them could say another word—
A voice echoed from the distance.
"Shift change!" Both Deans turned at the exact same time.
You walked in laughing softly with Miller, carrying two backpacks over one shoulder. Mud stained your jeans. There was a scrape across your forearm.
Nothing serious.
Future Dean's shoulders dropped so subtly most people would've missed it.
Dean didn't. You smiled when you saw them.
"Took longer than expected." Future Dean's eyes lingered on the scrape.
"What happened?" You looked down.
"Oh." You brushed it off with a laugh. "Nothing. Just caught a fence."
He stepped closer. "You should've radioed."
"...I forgot."
"Don't forget next time." His tone was flat. Almost cold.
But Dean caught it. He hadn't been angry. He'd been scared.
You smiled gently. "I'll remember."
Future Dean simply nodded and walked away before either of you could say anything else.
Dean just watched him leave.
Late that night, Dean couldn't sleep.
Soft voices drifted through the camp. Curious, he stepped onto the porch.
You were sitting on the wooden steps outside Future Dean's cabin.
His duffel bag rested open beside you. Without saying a word, you folded another clean shirt and tucked it inside.
Dean watched quietly from the shadows.
A box of ammunition.
Fresh bandages.
A canteen.
Everything went into the bag exactly where you'd packed it a hundred times before.
Future Dean appeared a moment later. He stopped when he saw you.
"...You don't have to do that."
"I know." You smoothed the shirt before closing the bag. "I wanted to.” A faint smile tugged at your lips. ”You always forget your bandages."
Future Dean glanced at the bag. "I would've survived."
"You always say that." The corner of his mouth lifted, barely.
You fastened the last buckle before standing and handing him the duffel.
"You know I'm not taking you." You looked down for a moment.
"I know."
"No arguments?"
"I stopped arguing years ago."
Dean outside closed his eyes. He hated how you sounded. It wasn't resignation. It was acceptance.
Future Dean lowered his head. "...I'm sorry."
You shook you head. "No Stepping closer, you cupped his face, waiting until he finally looked at you. "I knew who you were when I fell in love with you."
His eyes softened. "I just..." he whispered, almost to himself. "I don't know how to fix this."
"You don't." Future Dean laughed bitterly. You reached for his hand. "The man I fell in love with is still here." You rested his hand over his own chest. "You just stopped believing it."
Your eyes filled with tears. Slowly, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.
You didn't know if he'd hug you back. You weren't even sure he'd let himself.
You just knew you wanted to hold him one more time.
A second passed when finally, his arms came around you, pulling you in just a little tighter than either of you expected. He rested his forehead against yours for the briefest moment.
"I'll be back." You smiled through your tears.
"Yeah."
But deep down, you both knew that wasn't true.
It wasn't that you didn't believe in him, but somewhere along the way, you'd stopped believing this war could still be won.
He pulled away first, as always. “Go to sleep” you nodded turning to leave, wiping at your eyes before anyone could notice.
Only then did you see him.
Dean.
He was standing a few feet away, frozen. For a long moment, neither of you spoke.
"...How is he?" he asked quietly. The question caught you off guard. You looked back toward the cabin.
"Tired." Dean gave a humorless laugh.
"I figured."
You shook your head softly. "Not physically."
"What happened to him?" You looked at Dean for a long moment.
"You know..." you said with a sad smile, "...I spent years trying to figure that out." Dean frowned. “I used to think it happened all at once." Your eyes drifted toward the cabin again. "But it didn't."
Dean listened "It happened little by little. He stopped laughing. He stopped teasing people. He stopped letting anyone worry about him." A pause. "And one day he stopped believing he deserved to come home." Dean didn't know what to say. You looked back at him. "It's strange."
"What?"
"You still smile." Dean blinked. "You still look at people like they are family." Another small smile. "I forgot he used to do that."
Dean swallowed. "I don't want to become him."
Your expression softened immediately. "I hope you don’t."
Dean looked at the cabin for a moment.
"Do you think he’ll make it?"
Your eyes filled with quiet sadness. "No." The word barely rose above a whisper. You offered him a small, tired smile. "Goodnight, Dean."
Then you turned and walked away, leaving him alone with the answer.
ℳasterlist ♡ ˎˊ˗
Something short, i wanted to be more active 😞
The End
Summary: Dean is sent five years into the future. What he finds isn't just a world that lost the war, that isn't the hardest thing to face, the way you look at the man he's become is. Pairing: Dean x F.Reader (Hunter) Warnings: 2 Deans(Future/Present), established relationship (with present Dean) apocalyptic world, angst. A/N: This takes place during S5 Ep 4, This was a vision from Zachariah to Dean, and it shows him “the future”(Just refreshing) so this takes place only on the vision. | English is not my first language. Word count: 2k words
Dean hadn’t felt peace till he saw you.
Nothing about this future felt right, Sam couldn’t make it, and after everything he'd heard, he'd been almost afraid to ask about you.
“She’s around” was everything his future self said, he didn’t let him ask more.
So after freeing himself, he went looking for you, he met Chuck and a version of Cas funnier than he ever thought he'd meet.
When he finally spotted you, relief flooded through him.
You were carrying a wooden crate across the camp, your hair longer than he remembered, a thin scar cutting through one eyebrow. You handed the box to one of the younger survivors with the same gentle smile he'd known for years.
Then you turned around. Your eyes met his, and an immediate soft smile spread across his face.
“I’d thought you were out” you said, walking toward him. Dean smiled before he could stop himself. “Something’s wrong?”
“No, everything’s perfect” He closed the distance between you “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“What’s with you today?” His hand rose almost hesitantly, his fingertips grazing the scar that cut across his eyebrow.
"What happened here?" You stared at him for another long second. Your heart ached, your eyes filled instantly. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re not him” you whispered.
“What?”
"You're Dean..." Your voice broke. "...but you're not my Dean." Dean's smile slowly faded.
"You mean future me?" he asked quietly. "Yeah... I'm not him. How'd you know?" You looked at him with a sad little smile.
"My Dean stopped looking at me like that years ago." Dean lowered his hand. You wiped a few tears from your face looking away.
“We’re okay, right? Future me and you?” your eyes met his again, you forced a smile.
“We’ve been through a lot, and we’ve made it, just not together” Dean’s stomach dropped.
“What? Did I--”
“I should’ve handcuffed both your hands before I left.” Future Dean walked toward the two of you, rifle slung over one shoulder. "I leave you alone for five minutes..."
You instinctively stepped toward him. “Dean you’re bleeding.” You reached for his face, gently tilting his chin to get a better look at the cut on his forehead. "It's not bad. Let me clean it."
“I’m fine” you sighed.
“Dean…”
“I said I’m fine.” He said pulling away. Your hand slowly fell back to your side. ”Can you give us a minute? Need to talk to him.” he asked, still avoiding your eyes.
You turned and walked back toward your cabin. Halfway there, you glanced over your shoulder. He was already walking away. Dean watched you disappear before turning back to his future self.
"Come on." Future Dean said walking to his cabin.
“Why’d you do that?” present Dean asked, following after him. "She was trying to help you.”
"Yeah." Future Dean didn't slow down. "She always does."
"Then why push her away?"
"Because it's easier that way." Future Dean opened the cabin door. "Get in." Dean stepped inside after him. The door shut behind them.
"She said we're not together." He crossed his arms. "What happened?"
Future Dean busied himself setting his rifle against the wall. "Life."
"Don't be an ass. Hours ago we were in the same bed, she kissed us before we went to sleep, and you're telling me we're not together anymore." Future Dean let out a humorless chuckle.
"Five years changes a lot." He crossed the cabin, setting a duffel bag on the table before unzipping it. Inside were loose rounds of ammunition, a half-empty first aid kit and a worn cleaning cloth. Without another word, he started checking every magazine one by one.
"Not that."
"You'd be surprised."
"No." Dean shook his head. "Not her.” Future Dean sighed, ejecting the bullets onto the table.
"Look—"
”Did she leave?" He slid another magazine into place.
“No”
"Did we stop loving her?" That finally made Future Dean pause. His hands rested on the table for a second before he looked up.
"I never said that."
"Then what the hell happened?"
"The world ended."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one." Future Dean grabbed a rifle leaning against the wall, disassembled it, and started cleaning the barrel.
"You don't stop looking at someone like that because the world's ending." Future Dean didn't answer immediately. He screwed the barrel back together, checked the sight, then reached for another box of shells.
"…No" Dean waited. Future Dean kept working. "You stop because every time she looks at you..." He finally spoke, eyes fixed on the rifle instead of his younger self. "...she reminds you of the man you used to be."
Silence settled between them.
Future Dean slid the rifle into its case before speaking again. "She still patches me up. Still waits up if I'm late. Still asks if I've eaten." He swallowed. "Still believes I'm worth saving."
Dean lowered his gaze. "...So why'd you push her away?"
Future Dean tightened one of the straps on the bag. "Because every day she stays..." he said softly, "...is another day she loses a little more because of me."
Dean frowned. "That's not your choice."
"No." Future Dean finally looked at him. "But it's the only one I had left."
The cabin fell quiet.
Future Dean busied himself with the last buckle on the duffel bag, pulling it tight before tossing it onto the table.
Dean leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
"So this is it?"
"This is it."
"You just... exist like this?"
Future Dean didn't answer.
Outside, the camp carried on as usual. Distant voices. Someone chopping wood. A dog barking somewhere beyond the fence.
Then Dean frowned. "...Where is she?"
Future Dean didn't even look up. "What?"
"She was here." Dean walked to the window, scanning the camp."I don't see her."
Future Dean finally stopped pretending not to hear. "...She probably went out."
Dean turned. "Went where?"
"Patrol." Dean's expression changed immediately.
"You let her go?" Future Dean exhaled through his nose.
"I didn't 'let' her do anything." Dean was already opening the cabin door. Outside, a hunter walked past carrying supplies.
"You!" Dean called. The man stopped.
"The girl who was here a while ago—where is she?"
The hunter looked confused. "North perimeter."
"How long ago?"
"Couple hours." Dean looked toward the tree line.
"...She's been gone for hours." Future Dean stepped outside behind him.
"When was she supposed to be back?"
The hunter shrugged. "About thirty minutes ago."
Dean's head snapped toward his older self.
"You don't seem very concerned."
Future Dean stared toward the woods. "...Miller's with her."
Dean frowned.
"So?"
"So he's good."
"You keep telling yourself that."
Another hunter crossed the camp. Future Dean stopped him. "You heard from Miller?"
Dean immediately looked over.
The hunter shook his head.
"No." Future Dean nodded once.
"Let me know the second they're back."
The man walked off. Dean looked at him for a long moment.
"...Thought you didn't need her close."
Future Dean didn't answer. He kept staring toward the trees. His jaw clenched. Without saying anything, he reached for the rifle hanging beside the cabin door, getting back to what he was doing before.
Dean noticed immediately. "What are you doing?"
Future Dean checked the magazine. "Nothing."
"Dean."
“She'll be fine."
Before either of them could say another word—
A voice echoed from the distance.
"Shift change!" Both Deans turned at the exact same time.
You walked in laughing softly with Miller, carrying two backpacks over one shoulder. Mud stained your jeans. There was a scrape across your forearm.
Nothing serious.
Future Dean's shoulders dropped so subtly most people would've missed it.
Dean didn't. You smiled when you saw them.
"Took longer than expected." Future Dean's eyes lingered on the scrape.
"What happened?" You looked down.
"Oh." You brushed it off with a laugh. "Nothing. Just caught a fence."
He stepped closer. "You should've radioed."
"...I forgot."
"Don't forget next time." His tone was flat. Almost cold.
But Dean caught it. He hadn't been angry. He'd been scared.
You smiled gently. "I'll remember."
Future Dean simply nodded and walked away before either of you could say anything else.
Dean just watched him leave.
Late that night, Dean couldn't sleep.
Soft voices drifted through the camp. Curious, he stepped onto the porch.
You were sitting on the wooden steps outside Future Dean's cabin.
His duffel bag rested open beside you. Without saying a word, you folded another clean shirt and tucked it inside.
Dean watched quietly from the shadows.
A box of ammunition.
Fresh bandages.
A canteen.
Everything went into the bag exactly where you'd packed it a hundred times before.
Future Dean appeared a moment later. He stopped when he saw you.
"...You don't have to do that."
"I know." You smoothed the shirt before closing the bag. "I wanted to.” A faint smile tugged at your lips. ”You always forget your bandages."
Future Dean glanced at the bag. "I would've survived."
"You always say that." The corner of his mouth lifted, barely.
You fastened the last buckle before standing and handing him the duffel.
"You know I'm not taking you." You looked down for a moment.
"I know."
"No arguments?"
"I stopped arguing years ago."
Dean outside closed his eyes. He hated how you sounded. It wasn't resignation. It was acceptance.
Future Dean lowered his head. "...I'm sorry."
You shook you head. "No Stepping closer, you cupped his face, waiting until he finally looked at you. "I knew who you were when I fell in love with you."
His eyes softened. "I just..." he whispered, almost to himself. "I don't know how to fix this."
"You don't." Future Dean laughed bitterly. You reached for his hand. "The man I fell in love with is still here." You rested his hand over his own chest. "You just stopped believing it."
Your eyes filled with tears. Slowly, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.
You didn't know if he'd hug you back. You weren't even sure he'd let himself.
You just knew you wanted to hold him one more time.
A second passed when finally, his arms came around you, pulling you in just a little tighter than either of you expected. He rested his forehead against yours for the briefest moment.
"I'll be back." You smiled through your tears.
"Yeah."
But deep down, you both knew that wasn't true.
It wasn't that you didn't believe in him, but somewhere along the way, you'd stopped believing this war could still be won.
He pulled away first, as always. “Go to sleep” you nodded turning to leave, wiping at your eyes before anyone could notice.
Only then did you see him.
Dean.
He was standing a few feet away, frozen. For a long moment, neither of you spoke.
"...How is he?" he asked quietly. The question caught you off guard. You looked back toward the cabin.
"Tired." Dean gave a humorless laugh.
"I figured."
You shook your head softly. "Not physically."
"What happened to him?" You looked at Dean for a long moment.
"You know..." you said with a sad smile, "...I spent years trying to figure that out." Dean frowned. “I used to think it happened all at once." Your eyes drifted toward the cabin again. "But it didn't."
Dean listened "It happened little by little. He stopped laughing. He stopped teasing people. He stopped letting anyone worry about him." A pause. "And one day he stopped believing he deserved to come home." Dean didn't know what to say. You looked back at him. "It's strange."
"What?"
"You still smile." Dean blinked. "You still look at people like they are family." Another small smile. "I forgot he used to do that."
Dean swallowed. "I don't want to become him."
Your expression softened immediately. "I hope you don’t."
Dean looked at the cabin for a moment.
"Do you think he’ll make it?"
Your eyes filled with quiet sadness. "No." The word barely rose above a whisper. You offered him a small, tired smile. "Goodnight, Dean."
Then you turned and walked away, leaving him alone with the answer.
ℳasterlist ♡ ˎˊ˗
trying to capture every minute
pairing; soldier boy (ben) x wife!reader word count; 1.7k 📌 summary; it's your daughter's first day of school, and with it a surprising matter of who can actually handle it?
tags/warnings; established relationship (married) / mom!reader / dad!ben / some feelings of anxiety / hurt/comfort / soft feels / pregnancy mentions / fluffy fluff
⋆˚࿔ notes; yk for someone who's never having kids I sure do write about them a lot lmaooo. more soft and fluffy fictional silliness for the soul I suppose <3 + set in the same dad!ben universe as the others :)
♪ now playing; slipping through my fingers by abba
ben masterlist ᝰ. main masterlist
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In Ben's opinion, it's too damn early to be awake.
His baby girl seems to share the same sentiment, groaning softly and pouting adorably as Ben wakes her up for her first day of school.
"papa i'm not done dreaming." she mumbles, rubbing her eyes drowsily and he can't help but melt a little, helping her sit up.
"Just put them on pause honey, you'll get nap time later. Then you can tell me and mommy all about them at dinner, hmm?"
"okay.."
"Okay, let's get you ready."
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Downstairs, you're dressed comfortably in a cozy velvet tracksuit, making breakfast and humming quietly in the kitchen as Banana watches from her spot on the windowsill.
It was your idea to enroll Maggie into pre-k, but you've still dreaded this day. The time feels like it's flying, slipping through your fingers far too fast for your liking. But you try to remember you have to be encouraging—this would be so good for her development, and her social skills...
All of that thinking goes out the window once she comes downstairs with her dad.
She's wearing her newest outfit—a soft sweater with cartoon daisies all around, blue jeans, her daisy converse, and her favorite headband with the ladybugs.
He's smiling softly, at her and at you, as she holds on to the straps of her ladybug backpack and looks at you expectantly. "i'm ready for school mommy!"
She has the sweetest smile on her face, and you cover yours at it crumples slowly. Everything feels dialed up to a hundred because of your pregnancy hormones, but thankfully Ben has grown as both a husband and a father, so he doesn't find himself as "useless" as he once did and knows how to help.
Mags looks to her dad in worry, and he reassures her first. "You didn't do anything wrong sweetpea, promise. Mommy's just feeling her emotions, s'all."
She seems to accept it, telling him to "go give her a hug" and he easily complies, gathering your trembling frame into his arms. He's rubbing gentle circles onto your back, listening as you calm yourself down.
Your voice is shaky, still you try to apologize.
"Sorry honey, i'm okay. You look so pretty, the headband matches your backpack perfectly."
That seems to do the trick, she lights up ready to ramble about her outfit choices. Ben holds you until you've completely calmed, and once you finally feel better you insist on plating breakfast before it gets cold.
Low stimulating cartoons play softly in the background as they eat, you opted out due to some early morning nausea. Ben would be sure to keep a close eye on you today, he's gotten better with reading your body language.
He does his best to help you however he can with the knowledge he has, and whatever he doesn't know, he makes sure to learn. Building a family with you has been the greatest thing—he doesn't take a single moment for granted.
So he watches you closely.
How you're packing her lunch and snacks carefully, triple checking her backpack, and starting to stress yourself out when you can't find the signed syllabus the teacher had sent out and asked for. Made mainly to inform parents of the class game-plan for the year, she seems very organized, you like her already.
But you can't find it, even though you just had it, and if you can't find it the teacher will think you're irresponsible and then Maggie might not even get accepted—
Two warm hands settle on your shoulders, and you flinch slightly, eyes landing on your husband in front of you. "Deep breaths baby, everything is fine. What are you looking for?"
You do start to slow your breathing, again. "The syllabus—"
"On the fridge." He says softly, and you deflate with relief.
As excited as you both are, your first pregnancy wasn't all smooth sailing, it was actually pretty rough during the beginning. The doctor said it was just your body's way of adapting to "certain genetics" (Ben).
It's why he's being extra caring and cautious with you now; you're still not sure how this one will go but he wants it to be as smooth as possible for you, especially if he can help it.
Thankfully Maggie's distracted by The Berenstain Bears, and you go to wash your face quickly before heading out. After a few gentle pecks on your cheek and a warm hug, of course.
It's 7:20am by the time you're all ready in the car, but thankfully (and intentionally) the school is just down the block, and it takes about five minutes to get there.
You watch the other parents with their kids, get a few curious stares in return. This town wasn't too nosy though, barley any gossip flowed through the grapevines. Not that your bump is enough to be noticeable yet, but even when it will be, you have the peace of mind knowing this community isn't toxic.
At least they haven't been so far.
Strangely, the longer you're here taking in your surroundings, the better you feel, a weight lifting off your chest now that you have an idea of where your Maggie will be. Meanwhile for Ben, it's the opposite—an uncomfortable feeling churning in his gut.
You're nearing her classroom when Maggie spots a girl clutching onto her mom's leg wearing a ladybug backpack, and she lights up.
"mommy look! our backpacks match!"
You hum in agreement, "They do honey. She seems a bit shy though, you wanna go say hi nicely? It might make her feel better."
"mhmm!" she nods, making her way over to the girl and her parents. They notice her right away, and she smiles.
"hi, i'm maggie. I like your backpack, it's sorta like mine!"
The little girl smiles back, "i'm margot. thank you…I like yours too. we match."
"we do! are you in misses mackie's class too?"
"mhm.."
"wanna sit with me?"
Little by little, the girl stops cowering into her mom, growing comfortable with your extroverted kid. She nods, and Maggie cheers.
"okay let me just go say bye to my mommy and daddy,"
You've all been watching fondly—her parents, the two of you—and you embrace your sweet little girl, content with knowing she's gonna be okay. When it's his turn for a hug, Ben holds her close, hesitating to let go until she says "papa I gotta go, m'gonna be late."
He just chuckles, kissing her head before parting. "Remember if any little brat starts bothering you…"
"throat punch!"
"Exactly—"
"Ben." You scold him, fighting off a laugh and trying to look stern but failing miserably—he gives you a cheeky look before turning back to Mags, his smirk fading into a gentle smile. "See you in a bit."
"later!" she scurries back to her new friend and they enter the class together. Her parents smile at you both, you smile politely in return, and they start heading out.
You think you're about to do the same, but Ben's smile has faded into a pensive frown, uneasy since she went into that room and out of his sight.
"Do you think she forgot something?"
Your eyebrows furrow. "No…?"
"Actually I think her shoelaces were un-tied—"
"They were fine, you tied them..with those tight ass knots of yours—"
"Or is it too early? Is this too soon? I mean it's not even actually kindergarten it's pre-k. Whatever that means. Does she really even need—"
"Honey." You place your hands on his arms, soothing him the way he did for you earlier. This big strong intimidating man...softer than butter in a microwave when it comes to his baby girl. You find it so endearing and amusing, holding back a small laugh. "This is good for her. And she's gonna be just fine, you saw her. She got all your charisma."
He smiles at that, but you can tell it's not enough, so you go a different route. "M'sorry babe but I'm starting to feel a little lightheaded, can we get some ice cream?"
That snaps him out of it, sighing one more time before carefully guiding you out with an arm around your waist. "'Course, but why the hell are you apologizing for feeling sick? Don't do that. It's probably your sugar, lots of big emotions for you today."
"For us." You tease, and he ignores it with a smile. At the car, he opens your door and lingers even after you've buckled your belt. "You alright?"
"Mhmm." You nod, "Perfect. Thank you."
You peck his lips softly, once, twice, a third time before he closes the door and makes his way into the driver's seat. He lets the car 'warm up' for a moment, but really you both just stare at the school.
Feels like it was only yesterday he was holding your heavy pregnancy belly up—now she's in school, learning and making friends, saying backpack correctly instead of "packpack" the way she used to..
Where did the time go?
Finally he sighs, and you lean your head back on the headrest, turning your head to look at him with love (and slight exhaustion). "You okay?"
He hums, slowly pulling out and away towards Bobby's Ice Cream Parlor, deflecting with a question. "What flavor you thinking?"
Flavor?...Oh right, the ice cream.
"I'm high-key considering some Butter Pecan."
He snorts, and you side eye him with amused exasperation. "What?"
"Nothing…I just thought you'd want your usual chocolate brownie walnut."
You sigh, rubbing your belly softly. "I would but I also want a crunchy ass dill pickle from Marv's deli and that wouldn't mesh well with chocolate."
"But it would with butter pecan?" He laughs, and you giggle in return.
"It's what i'm craving!"
"Oh sure, blame the baby." He continues teasing playfully.
"Listen, after the damn toasted jalapeño s'mores incident I had with Maggie I don't question these anymore, no matter how strange. I just know I wanna avoid the pain of an ignored craving."
He takes your closest hand into his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it softly. "Of course we'll get your weird butter pecan pickles, whatever you need sweetheart." He murmurs.
You hum in contentment, kissing with cheek with a low "thank you", making the peaceful drive to the store for your goodies.
The entire time you both think about how excited you are to listen to your baby girl talk about all her new adventures later, and until then you'll stay home watching reruns with your cat, patiently waiting.
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ben masterlist ᝰ. main masterlist
⋆˚࿔ end notes; will definitely come back to these guys eventually. <3 but lowkey what do y'all think, should they have a baby boy or another baby girl? lmk :P
"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that." - CJ Braxton x Female Reader
Summary: You had only meant to call once, remaining anonymous while feeling out the whole helpline thing for yourself. Now, you talk to CJ every Friday night around the same time. When you don’t call one Friday, CJ is worried and comes looking for you which presents its own host of problems.
Pairing: CJ Braxton x Female!Reader; CJ Braxton x College Student!Female!Reader A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). I initially wasn’t going to write anything for CJ but this idea popped into my head for this prompt and I just had to write it. And I absolutely fell in love with the dynamic between CJ and the reader (and had so much fun with this). Please forgive any timeline tomfoolery or anything time wise that makes you go “huh?”; I was trying to make this work throughout the season from CJ’s entry into the show (and his conversation with Jen about the helpline) to the end. This is meant to take place during s6 before Jen joins The Stand. Warnings: implications; panic attacks; implied anxiety Word Count: 15k+ First posted on here: 1/1/24 dividers by @firefly-graphics
You glanced at the clock, seeing it was 6:59. One more minute and you’d pick up the phone as you did every Friday night and make the call you always did. Your nerves thrummed in anticipation as you stared down the clock, willing the numbers to turn.
Eventually, you got your wish and as soon as the 7 appeared on the clock face you picked up the phone, dialing the number you now knew by heart. After a few rings, the call finally connected.
“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”
You couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his voice. “Hey.”
“There she is.” You could hear his own smile in his tone as he recognized you. “How are you, Jo?”
You winced at the fake name you had given him. At the time, you had quickly scrambled and chose the first name that came to mind. Granted, Joey Potter was in the same school as you so you weren’t too worried about him finding out about either of you seeing as he was from Boston Bay. But as you had talked with him more and more, you really wished you hadn’t given him any name but your own. Even if you were beyond terrified; you felt bad for lying to him.
Why should it matter, right? He was a volunteer counselor for a student helpline at another college. Why would you care what this one person thought of you?
Well, unbeknownst to him, you had seen him once and you knew who he was. Thanks to Joey and Audrey’s friendship with Jen, you had come to hear quite a bit about the cute tall guy whose voice made your heart rate speed up way too fast. Jen had even invited him out to a house party and that was when you saw him for the first time. Your nerves got to you and you bounced before one of your friends could make an introduction. Partly because you were afraid he would recognize you from your voice, immediately put a face to the name, and possibly be disappointed or worse: he’d know you lied to him. So you avoided him at all costs — well, in person.
It wasn’t like you had planned for this to happen, where you would call a helpline weekly just to speak to a certain boy. That’s not how this started at all.
When you got to Worthington, you were homesick, overwhelmed, and overall terrified. While you eventually eased into the college student lifestyle and Boston was now home, you never really got past the overwhelmed feeling, and terrified had dialed down to being anxious all the time: anxious that you would mess up, anxious that you would fail, anxious that your future wouldn’t turn out the way you planned — all of it. There were days you felt like you were just scraping by, barely making a passing grade (though your final grade usually proved you wrong), and you felt like you were some sort of imposter who was soon to be found out and didn’t really belong. Meeting Joey and her roommate, Audrey Liddell, who lived down the hall from you, helped some, and their introducing you to their group of friends helped even more. But there were still times that you just felt…tightly wound and about to snap. As if you had too many balls in the air and you were about to trip, and all the balls would fall to the ground.
So when Jen mentioned to the group about some guy wanting her to join a teen helpline for the college, you quietly paid attention. She laughed it off — his approach, not the helpline — and she didn’t think she would be right for it so that was that. While everyone else began to talk and laugh about another topic, the wheels in your head slowly started to turn inside your head. A helpline where you could remain anonymous and talk to someone who would listen and could possibly even help. You knew your school most likely had one of those but you wouldn’t even dream of risking it. But a helpline elsewhere where you could talk to someone who maybe understood how you were feeling most of the time, maybe experienced similar things, and you were able to stay anonymous? That you could look into.
After much back and forth in your mind over it, you took the leap and made the call one Friday night after a particularly rough week. You really didn’t think anyone would pick up, it was close to 7:00 and most college kids were either out or getting ready to go out…right?
Before you could answer your own question to yourself, the line connected.
“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”
You did what any other person would do; you promptly hung up. You stared at your phone in terror. Someone had picked up. A guy. Just when you were convincing yourself that this was stupid and you needed to take a chill pill and deal.
You argued with yourself in your head for about another minute, hemming and hawing over it all. Wasn’t the whole point of you calling to try to do something about how you’d been feeling? You supposed you could always see a therapist here in town but that could be costly, even with insurance. You also had no desire to tell your parents because they would respond the same way they did the last time you tried to allude to how overwhelmed you were when you had returned home for the summer.
“You should be grateful you got into such a great school, Y/N. Most people would kill to be in your position, going after their degree. You don’t see your classmates moping about, do you? Just because they have classes and homework,” your mother had made sure to prick you with that pin of guilt. “Make the best of it.”
“You know what I think? I think you need to get yourself some friends and then you’ll stop focusing on this so much. If you have nothing to fill your time, of course your mind is going to obsess over what you’re viewing as negative. Try to join a club or a social group. They have keggers all the time. I remember back when I was in college. It was party city every weekend. Maybe let loose a little one of these Saturday nights and things will start to get better. And who knows? Maybe you’ll even make some friends.”
“Thanks, Dad,” you mumbled, tossing your overeasy egg onto its side with your fork, your eyes trained on your plate. You knew he was just trying to help — they both were — but their attitude seemed to imply that you could simply hit an off switch somewhere and you’d stop feeling so overwhelmed. If only.
It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to take their advice. You had gone to some frat party and it had been one of the worst experiences of your life. You weren’t a big drinker and you weren’t really a party person in general. You didn’t really recognize anyone from your classes or your dorm and the music was so loud, it seemed like a ridiculous notion to try to approach someone and start a conversation. Not something you were very good at anyway. You had no idea how to play the drinking games you saw, other than what you’d seen on TV, and you didn’t want to do something to mess up anyone’s scores if you didn’t do it right. Then some hulk of a guy accidentally knocked into you, deluging you in beer, and he was so drunk, he didn’t even apologize, just kept on going. After about an hour (and the unintended beer bath), you decided to call it quits.
That night, you had gone back to your dorm room which was blissfully empty, taken a hot shower, and then sobbed into your pillow. So much so that when a drunken Audrey accidentally stumbled into your room, she saw your tear-stained face when your head snapped up and immediately asked what was wrong and why you were crying in her room of all things. Despite the back and forth over whose room it actually was and her drunken state along with the slurring of her words, you two actually kind of hit it off. Before long she had you laughing, something you felt like you hadn’t done in some time. She passed out in your roommate’s bed, much to your roommate’s chagrin, but when Audrey’s boyfriend and roommate came to get her the next morning, you figured that had been it. Your one social interaction with someone who didn’t look at you as an unwanted intruder every single day (like your roommate) or like you were some loner weirdo (like most of your classmates). You knew that Audrey would probably either ignore you the next time she ran into you or she wouldn’t remember you at all.
Boy, had you been wrong. The day after her hangover, she had been knocking on your door, smiling and telling you that you were going out with her for the night. Just like that. She introduced you to her roommate, Joey, and their group of friends. You had been instantly inducted into their group of friends.
Eventually, Jen mentioned the helpline that one night and now here you were, staring at the phone as if it was about to come to life and do a dance or something. You waited a few more minutes, deciding you’d try again and hopefully get someone else. There couldn’t be only one person answering phones at a helpline, could there? That would make for some backed up phone traffic and not a good look for a helpline at all. Maybe you’d be lucky and the guy would have already had another caller he was speaking to so another counselor would have to pick up.
When the clock turned to 7:11, you slowly picked up the phone, took a deep breath, and dialed the number again. You began to jiggle your leg as you waited for the line to connect.
“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”
Oh crap. You froze.
“Hello?”
What did you do? You wanted to hang the phone up again but you were unable to.
“Hello?” He asked again.
No. You were going to be a mature adult about this and answer him. Just as soon as you could breathe. You covered the mouthpiece with your hand and exhaled a breath.
“Look, if you’re in trouble or can’t talk, just hit a button. Any button will work.” A minute passed while you were trying to breathe, getting ready to talk. “If you don’t have a crisis and you’re not calling to speak to someone here, then I think you should hang up and let other people who need us call in. No use in tying up the phone lines.”
Another minute passed. You really were trying your hardest to get words out but your chest was tight and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your heart was racing yet you were frozen. This happened sometimes but usually you were by yourself, not with someone waiting for you to speak on the other end of the phone line. It also happened a couple of times while you were out with your friends, but usually you hid out in a bathroom stall until it passed and then you left to go back to your dorm with the excuse of a test the next day or a project due, whatever you could come up with on the fly. You didn’t understand why it was happening to you right now, though.
“Alright, I’m going to hang up now.”
You smashed a key on your phone so fast that you heard a loud annoying sound in your ear. Immediately, the guy’s tone changed.
“Okay, I’m here. If you’re in trouble, hit the key again. If you’re not but can’t talk at the moment, don’t hit it.”
You didn’t hit any more keys and gasped for air that just wasn’t coming.
“Good. I’m glad you’re okay. Is someone in the room with you and that’s why you can’t talk? If so, hit the key again.”
You moved over to your bed and laid down. That was the fastest way to get your body to relax when you had the option you’d found out.
“Okay, so you’re alone but you can’t talk but you’re not in trouble. Can you just try to say one word or make a sound so I know you’re really okay?”
You removed your hand from the mouthpiece. “T-Trying,” you rasped out. Holy crap, this was a bad episode you were having. You were completely mortified. Perhaps you really should hang up. You were worried, though, that now he might notify someone or think you really were prank calling the helpline. Either way, you were bound to get in trouble and even more embarrassed, and that just made your chest tighter.
“Okay. That’s good. I’ll take that. Do you have asthma or something similar?”
Great. That’s how bad you’d sounded; he thought you might actually have some sort of breathing issue. Well, technically, you were struggling to breathe right now so it made sense that he would think that but if he only knew the actual answer was something that was beyond ridiculous and couldn’t be explained away as something as serious as asthma.
“No,” you whispered, rubbing at the spot in your chest where a mix of discomfort and a heavy-rock feeling sat.
“And you’re sure you don’t need to go to the hospital to get checked out?” He sounded concerned now.
“No,” you repeated, staring up at your ceiling, your vision blurring with building tears. All you wanted to do was give this helpline thing a shot since nothing else seemed to be working, and here you had gone and made it so much worse. On top of that, you were frustrated that you couldn’t even do something as simple as answer a person when they said hello on a phone call that you made to them. What was wrong with you?
“Okay. That’s good. Why don’t I talk for a minute so you can relax?” A tear slipped down your cheek when you realized he must have heard your heavy exhales over the phone. “Like I said before, my name is CJ. I’ve been with the helpline for a while now. I’m here four days a week. I try to schedule shifts around my classes and pick up a few extra when I’m able. Before you called, I was doing some reading for my Philosophy class. It’s not my major but I had to take another humanities course. It was that or religion so…philosophy it was.”
You closed your eyes and focused on his voice. It was actually very soothing and it was helping.
“Between you and me, I’m not the best student.” Your eyes opened and you stared at the ceiling, listening intently. “I mean, I do okay in terms of grades, but I’m not exactly a frequent flier on the Dean’s list.” He chuckled and after a moment, he asked, “How about you?”
You swallowed, feeling the slightest bit of easing up on your chest, almost if it was allowing the words through. “I do okay.” You didn’t sound as raspy as before but you still had a faint wheeze at the end. You were coming out of this, slowly but surely.
“That’s good. College sure isn’t easy, by any means. When midterms roll around, I always get a little more stressed. I usually have to blow off some steam to keep it all balanced, you know? Or else I get easily overwhelmed. I have to remind myself to take it one class at a time, one day at a time. But easier said than done sometimes, right?”
“Right.” You knew what he was doing but since it seemed to be helping, you played along. He was getting to the heart of the issue while also giving you time to come back down. You’d only been on the phone with him for close to ten minutes and already you felt much better than you had when the call started.
“How are you feeling? Any better?”
“A little.”
“Good.” He sounded genuinely pleased. “Is my being the one to talk helping any?”
“Actually…yeah,” you breathed out.
“Does this happen a lot?”
You bit at your lip, not really wanting to admit it, but you had called for this very reason, hadn’t you? “Yeah.”
“Around midterms or anytime?”
“Anytime.”
“Even when you’re not in school?”
“Sometimes,” you whispered. “But mostly when I’m here.”
“So school related then?”
“Kind of.”
He was quiet for a moment and you wondered if you had said something wrong or if he was looking instructions up in a pamphlet or something for this sort of thing.
“Hey, did you see Phantom Menace when it came out last year?”
That caught you off guard. You hadn’t expected to switch gears so quickly. “Um, no?”
“You’re not a Star Wars fan, I take it?”
He didn’t sound disappointed so you chalked that up to being a good thing. Most guys you’d met either were completely into Star Wars or weren’t into it at all. “I don’t know if I’d call myself a fan but I’ve seen the original movies.”
“Uh oh, you’re not one of those prequel snobs, are you?” He teased.
“No? I just saw the trailer and I wasn’t interested.”
“Well, a buddy of mine and I went to see it when it came out. The theater was packed. I’m talking bursting at the seams.” A small smile started to creep onto your face at his energy. “And when the lights went down and the opening credits started rolling and the music started up, everyone was cheering and clapping. It was pretty awesome. My buddy ended up loving it. He’s the biggest Star Wars fan you’ve ever met.” A moment later he asked, “So besides anything in a galaxy, far far away, have you seen any other movies that came out?”
“I went to see The Green Mile. My, uh, my dad is a big Tom Hanks fan and a Stephen King fan so he really wanted to go.”
“And you?”
“I liked it. Though it was sad.”
“I didn’t see it yet but I got the feeling that it was going to be a bit of a heavy one.”
“It was, but it was worth it.” You noticed then that you were talking to him normally, you were breathing normally, your chest was still a little tight but that was to be expected, and you were sitting up with your back to the wall. You had gotten through your latest episode and this CJ had helped. Perhaps there was something to this helpline thing after all.
“I’m definitely going to check it out then. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Almost as if he had heard your thoughts, he then said, “You sound a lot better than earlier. Hopefully, you’re feeling better, too?”
“Um, yeah.” You anxiously tucked your hair behind your ear. “Thanks for earlier, by the way. You know, being patient…”
“Of course. That’s what I’m here for.”
“Right.”
“So, you feel up to telling me what’s going on and why you called tonight or did you want to talk about something else?”
You bit at your thumbnail, unsure. “I feel bad. I’ve taken up so much of your time already.” You glanced at the clock and saw that you had been on the phone with him now for almost half an hour.
“Don’t worry about the time and I don’t want you feeling badly.” He sounded completely genuine when he said it and it made you feel a little bit better about monopolizing his time like this. “This is why I’m here. So, if you want to talk, I’m here to listen.”
You still weren’t certain you should take him up on his offer. “Are you sure? What if there’s someone else who needs to call in who is having an actual crisis and you’re stuck on the phone with me? I would feel bad if they didn’t get to talk to you when they needed to because of me.”
“I’m not the only one here so if someone else does call in, they’ll speak to one of the other counselors who can help them. While we’re on the subject, what you’re experiencing is just as valid as what anyone else might be experiencing. I’m not stuck on the phone with you; I want to be talking with you and try to help you in any way I can. And yes, I’m sure.”
You contemplated it, turning it over and over in your brain. This was why you called. This was why you decided to give the helpline a try, to speak to a stranger who would listen and possibly be able to help you and if not, at least maybe understand where you were coming from. If he was willing (and he had been helpful so far), then why not?
“Would it help if I promise not to make any more Star Wars references?”
You couldn’t help but smile. “Tremendously.”
“Deal,” he laughed. You liked the sound of his laugh; it was warm, inviting, and put you instantly at ease. This CJ seemed to know what he was doing and you could now see why people called in to speak to him and other counselors like him.
You nervously licked your lips and decided to take the plunge. You told him everything. You told him about how it started when you began college, how the classes and workload immediately overwhelmed you. How you struggled to keep from drowning in assignments and tests and projects and papers. How you started to develop these episodes and how badly you felt during them. How you had tried to talk to your parents but they just didn’t seem to hear you, dismissing it as an issue that would be resolved by you being more outgoing and feeling more grateful that you had such an educational opportunity when many didn’t. How you could be in a room full of a hundred people and still feel completely alone, especially when an episode kicked in. You’d even told him about your failed attempt at attending the frat party. He had rarely talked, giving you the floor, but he had interjected a couple of times to either support you or make some helpful suggestions. Other than that, he just listened. By the time you finished, you felt like you had told him your whole life story, but you had to admit that you felt a lot better once you got it all off your chest, which incidentally, was feeling lighter. And this time, someone listened and actually heard you. That made all the difference.
You glanced at the clock for the first time in a long time and noted it was 10:16. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped, your cheeks immediately heating up. Had you really been talking nonstop for over three hours? “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was so late. I should let you go so you can speak to other callers.”
“My shift ended fifteen minutes ago actually.”
Your heart stopped and however much better you’d been feeling felt like it went right down the drain. How could you have been so self-absorbed and only concerned with your problems that you’d talked his ear off and used up his whole shift? Not one other person got to talk to him tonight and you didn’t even go to that school. Seriously, how selfish were you? “I-I’m so, so sorry. You should have stopped me or told me there was a time limit per call.” You were full on babbling now. “I didn’t mean to— I am so beyond sorry. I’m going to let you go. Thank you so much for your help and I hope you have a good rest of your night. Don’t worry. I promise I won’t call again. Good night.”
You went to hang up the phone when you heard loudly, “Please don’t hang up.”
You put it back to your ear, your brows drawing together in confusion. “But you said your shift was over.”
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “But that’s okay. If I wanted you to stop talking, I would have said something. And did I ask you to stop?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Then I didn’t want you to stop talking. It seems like there’s a lot on your plate at the moment or else you wouldn’t have called, right?”
“Okay, yeah. But—”
“So it’s good that you called and I’m glad I was able to help. And for the record, there’s no time limit on a call.” Someone said something to him in the background and he quietly responded though you couldn’t hear what he said. “I’m actually gonna get going because my replacement is here and they don’t have another place to sit.”
“Right. Of course. Again, sorry.”
“But,” he continued. “I’m going to be here Monday afternoon around 2 so if you want to call back then we can talk again.”
“I have class then.” You truly did but even if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be calling him back. You had taken up enough of his time.
“I’m here until 6:00 that day.”
“I have a study session after that class.” Okay, maybe that was a lie. “But I appreciate the offer. Thank you and have a good—”
“I’m back on again next Friday. Same time. Why don’t you call me then if you’re free?”
“I appreciate it, CJ, but don’t worry. If I need the helpline again, I’ll call, but you helped me a lot tonight and I feel better so…I won’t need to call. Again, I’m sorry I monopolized your shift.”
“Do me a favor and call me again anyway, even if you are feeling better. I’d like to check in with you and the only way I can do that is if you call me back.”
“Right. Being anonymous and all,” you mumbled. Thank God for that. You didn’t think your embarrassment at talking his head off for over three hours while you complained about your life would ever go away.
“Yeah. So, please, if you can call me next week, same time, even if you just tell me you’re feeling better and hang up. That’s all I ask.”
You supposed you could do that, after he’d generously taken the time to hear you out, after he’d helped you through your episode. “Okay.”
“Friday, 7:00. Promise me.”
“I promise,” you whispered.
And so had begun the tradition of you calling him every Friday night at 7:00. You hadn’t intended for that to happen, honestly. But each time you would talk to him, ranging in times from twenty minutes to an hour and a half (you refused to ever get near that three hour mark again, no matter what he said), he would always ask you to call him back the following week, making you promise that you would. Over time, you noticed that your overwhelmed feeling had lessened considerably (though not completely gone) and instead of having an episode (or panic attack as CJ called them) twice weekly, they had now diminished to one every couple of weeks. And even then they weren’t as bad as they had been, thanks to the techniques CJ suggested you try using. Things had gotten better for you and you had to admit, the helpline definitely was a useful service for students, though for your own personal experience, you attributed a lot of that to CJ.
Speaking of which, that was how you two began to get to know one another, moving from strictly counselor and caller into a tentative friendship. When initially speaking to him, he began to feel like a friend you were just catching up with on how your past week had been, and then it actually sort of became that. He started to tell you more details about himself and now you knew what type of music he liked, what he was majoring in, where he had grown up, and why he had joined The Stand. He had even shared his backstory with you and why he didn’t drink when you told him how uncomfortable college parties made you in general. The conversation was no longer one-sided and you’d come to like it that way.
Until the day came when he asked your name.
“My name?”
“Well, yeah, so I know what to call you. It feels weird calling you “you” all the time,” he laughed.
“Um…” You were practically crapping bricks. You didn’t expect this.
“Just your first name. You’ll still be anonymous,” he reassured. “It could be a nickname if you want. Or your middle name. Just something.”
You ran over it in your mind. What if he still somehow managed to find out who you were if you gave him only your first name? Sure, you weren’t going to the same schools, but what if somehow someway…? Plus, your friends weren’t exactly fans of CJ right now. Apparently, Jen had a major crush on him but her hopes were dashed when he told her he didn’t date (something he had told you long before you heard it via your friends) and then hooked up with Audrey the same night. You hadn’t been there that night, opting to stay in and study for a huge test you had coming up in your Lit class, and after hearing that not only had CJ been present but also what happened, you were glad you had made that decision. Audrey and Joey were on the outs thanks to the events of that night and now so were Jen and Audrey once it was revealed that CJ and Audrey had slept together, right before Pacey punched his face in.
When that Friday rolled around, you almost didn’t call him. You were angry and hurt yourself. Angry because his careless actions had hurt more than one of your friends, and hurt because truth be told, you had started to crush on him yourself from afar. You trusted him with the details of your life, very personal details (without giving specifics obviously), and he’d helped you. How could he be this helpful, compassionate guy working at a helpline but turn out to be this scummy, advantage-taking, selfish player? You couldn’t reconcile in your head the CJ you were getting to know with the CJ your friends saw.
“That’s just the thing, Y/N,” Jen told you when you wondered aloud how a helpline counselor could do something like he had with your friends. “Most people who go into those positions to help other people are usually a thousand times more screwed up than the people they’re helping. Audrey’s been hurting, as you know, and she’s been acting out and he saw an opportunity. Case closed.” But it wasn’t case closed for you. Not by a mile. You wanted answers, but how could you get them while remaining anonymous?
So that following Friday at 7:00, as you angrily punched in the helpline number, you had no idea how you would do it but you were determined to get them. And if you didn’t like what you heard, then this would be your last call and you would close the book on CJ and your budding friendship for good.
It caught you off guard, though, when you heard a different voice this time.
“Hello, Helpline. This is David.”
You nearly hung up. You knew David; he was starting to hang out with your group more and more, especially Jack. What if he recognized your voice?
“Hello?”
You forced yourself to ask the burning question on the tip of your tongue, albeit with a slightly higher pitch of voice. “Hi, is CJ there?”
“No, I’m sorry.” You covered the mouthpiece with your hand and let out a sigh of relief. Whether it was because David didn’t recognize you or you didn’t have to confront CJ right this second, you couldn’t be sure. Probably a bit of both. “He called out sick and asked me to fill in for him. He should be back next week, though.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll call then. Thank you.” You quickly hung up before he could ask you anything else.
The next Friday you called, you got CJ.
“Hey,” he greeted, sounding relieved when he heard your voice. “How are you?”
“I’m okay.” You were standing in your dorm room, staring out the window and watching the rain, your arms crossed. You weren’t as angry as last week, the extra time allowing you to let a cooler head prevail, but you still wanted answers. “How are you?”
“Honestly? I’ve been better.”
“I’m sorry. I know you were sick last week. Has it not gotten any better?”
“Uh, yeah, I’m sorry about that. I was feeling lousy and just needed to take a day, you know?” And he didn’t need to be parading around a still-healing black eye that might prompt questions, most likely.
“I get that.”
“I wish I had your number outside of this so I could call you.” Your jaw tightened. Perhaps your friends were right; there was a whole other side to him. A side you didn’t really want to get to know. “I really could’ve used a friend to talk to.”
You unclenched your jaw when you realized he wasn’t hitting on you and when you thought about it, he sounded genuinely miserable and he never had in any of your previous conversations, even when your friendship formed. It was unlike him, or at least the CJ you had gotten to know. Just like this behavior your friends had told you about sounded unlike him. “Well, I’m here now, if you want to talk.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to make this about me. You called in to talk, not to hear about my problems,” he laughed, sounding nervous. That was a first.
“I’m sure. What are friends for?”
He told you everything while not naming anyone. He didn’t hold back anything and you realized that while he didn’t know who you were, he was giving you the side that had been missing from the story your friends told you: his side. Every side has a story after all. He admitted he had messed up big time. He had hurt Jen (or Blondie as he called her), he had been an ass to Pacey (or The Guy Who Punched My Face) when he had no right to be, and he should have never hooked up with Audrey (or The Girl That Came Out of Nowhere). Apparently, Jen had said to him the same thing she said to you and it got him thinking, along with some things Audrey had said. He felt like a huge jerk and all he wanted to do was keep his head down and move forward, get back on the right track that his life had been headed in. You stayed silent as he talked and before you knew it, the clock read 9:47.
“Your shift is over soon,” you whispered once he was done.
“Yeah, but I still have a few minutes. So what do you think? Am I a complete jackass or what?” He let out another nervous chuckle.
You briefly pressed your lips together as you thought of how best to answer that. In the end, you were as honest as you could be without giving yourself away. “I think we all make mistakes sometimes. But as long as we recognize them, apologize to those we’ve hurt, and try to do better, then that’s all that matters. So no, not a complete jackass.”
This time when he laughed, it sounded relieved. “Thanks.”
“Of course. That’s what I’m here for,” you repeated his words back to him, teasing him slightly.
A moment of silence passed between you before he asked, “Will you call again next week?”
That made you do a double take. He never asked you to call the following week like that. Usually he asked in the form of making you promise you would call or he’d tell you he’d talk to you the following week. But when he asked like this, he sounded uncertain, vulnerable. You knew then that more than just his face and ego had been hurt by recent events. Perhaps you were a fool but you believed his remorse to be genuine.
“Yeah,” you assured him. “I’ll call next week.”
And when you did, he immediately hit you with the name question.
“Earth to you…” He called, snapping you out of it and reclaiming your attention. “See? It doesn’t really work,” he laughed.
You had to be careful here. Not only because you didn’t want him to find out who you were but also because if your friends ever found out, especially Audrey…you were toast.
You opened your mouth to give him the name of a classmate that couldn’t be traced back to you but “Jo” came tumbling out instead.
“Jo?”
Oh crap. You had Audrey and then Joey on your mind and it just slipped out. Crap, crap, crap. “Yeah,” you lied. “Jo.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Jo.” You could practically hear him smiling, happy to have gotten a name out of you.
You squeezed your eyes shut, angry with yourself. “Nice to meet you, too,” you mumbled before you dropped your head into your hands.
So now here you were, him thinking you were Jo from the college he was attending, and you were calling him every single week at the same time like clock work. You had long ago stopped questioning the morality of what you were doing and it seemed that he didn’t appear to question it at all. He was always happy to hear from you and your conversations were more personal now. You couldn’t deny the way your heart rate spiked every time you heard his voice when he picked up the call or how whenever his name was mentioned in passing by David or Jen (though rare these days), you would specifically tune in, listening for anything that had to do with him. You had it bad and you knew it, but it was also a safe crush from a distance and would be staying that way.
You shook your head, snapping yourself out of your reverie and remembered CJ has asked you a question. “I’m good. Really good. How about you?”
“Really good, huh? I’m happy to hear it and happy to be hearing from you.”
You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I got that paper back and you were so right, The Writing Center really helped. I can’t believe I never thought to try it before. Thank you so much for that idea.”
“I’m happy to be of service,” he chuckled. “I’m glad it helped. And the club thing? Did you give that a try as well?”
Your smile dropped. He had been trying to urge you to join a club or a group where you had shared interests with other students. His theory was that if you gave a small group of people a shot doing a social activity you might enjoy, that it might help decrease your nervousness in other social settings. Even though you told him you had a group of friends you regularly met up with, he didn’t think expanding your social circles would be a bad thing to consider. “No? I told you, CJ, that’s not really my thing.”
“I get that, I do. How about this? If you want, I could meet you at Student Activities and we could take a look around together, get some info. No pressure, of course, but you wouldn’t have to walk in there alone. I know it can be a bit much sometimes. I remember my first semester here and I didn’t know where to stick my head.”
You froze. That was the first time he’d ever mentioned the possibility of you meeting in person. Perhaps if you were really Jo from Boston Bay College, you could take him up on it or give him your number like he’d asked you for or call his room number like he’d offered up a few times now so you could talk outside of the helpline. But you weren’t and so you had to decline. “I appreciate the offer but it’s not my thing so I’m going to have to pass. Sorry, but thank you, though.”
“If you’re sure.” He sounded slightly disappointed but maybe that was just you imagining it.
“Yep, I’m sure. Uh, so listen, I can’t stay on long. My roommate and her boyfriend will be here in less than ten so I’m gonna go so I can get out of here before I get hit by the clothes hurricane that’s most likely to happen.” It was a complete lie. Your roommate, Stacey, had actually gone to visit her boyfriend for the weekend. You would have peace and quiet and the dorm to yourself for two whole days.
He chuckled good-naturedly. “I don’t blame you. If you get bored later, I’m here at The Stand until 10:00, like you already know, and then I’ll be back in my room. You can call me then if you want to talk. I”ll be up for a while so don’t worry about calling too late.”
“Oh. Thanks. Maybe I’ll do that.” You weren’t going to and he knew you weren’t going to. You hadn’t the last two times he’d made the same offer and the last two times you’d given him the same response.
“Jo?”
“Yeah?”
“If I don’t hear from you… Call next week, okay?”
“Okay,” you agreed, smiling, like always. You said your quick goodbyes and you hung up, letting out a heavy breath. While he had been urging you to contact him personally, he had never mentioned meeting him before. That was different. And it worried you at the same time. Why the offer now? Granted, he was just trying to be helpful to you, given the context, but what if he began to find other ways to work it in like he already had about your phone numbers? What if he continued to push to meet Jo?
You shook your head, telling yourself that you were doing it again, worrying over things that might not happen. You would cross that bridge when you came to it, something CJ had once said to you that you kept for yourself as your own personal mantra. You would wait to see how next week would go.
But unfortunately, the call never happened.
You had been out with Jack and David on Thursday night at Hell’s Kitchen, when Jen waltzed in, smiling and taking a seat. Joey and Emma were working and Pacey was supposed to join you later.
“You worked late today,” Jack commented.
“Training took a little bit longer than expected. We were supposed to be done at 6:00 but then our relief called and said they were going to be late. Of course, since CJ was going to stay, I wasn’t going to just leave him there.” Your ears perked up at the mention of CJ. You knew Jen was training as a counselor and he was the one training her. Jen had begrudgingly forgiven CJ but it was also obvious to you all that she still had a crush on him. While you couldn’t blame her, you also felt for her. CJ told you that he had to make it clear once more to Blondie that he wasn’t looking to date though he was happy she had finally started training at the helpline. He really believed she would make a great counselor once she settled into it.
Talk about complicated. Jen was your friend and you didn’t want to see her get hurt, but you could also understand if CJ didn’t see her that way. He just didn’t. They were both your friends now and you just wanted them both to be happy, whatever that looked like.
“But then, listen to this,” she continued. “Our relief, this guy named Seth, sees me there with CJ and starts teasing him about how he’s racking up all of these beautiful girls through the helpline, not leaving any for him.”
“Jen,” Jack warned.
“No, listen. This is good. You’re going to like this.”
Jack sighed but let her finish.
“CJ laughs it off but then Seth mentions how he has this girl calling him every Friday night, around the same time, and she talks his ear off for hours.”
You were about to take a bite of your french fry when you froze. Your heart dropped down to your feet.
“And so I ask if this is true and CJ says that we’re there to help everybody, time limits aren’t a thing, and it doesn’t matter how many times a caller calls back or they speak to the same counselor. As long as they get the help they need.”
“He’s right,” David chimed in.
“But then Seth starts teasing him again and asks if CJ can give him tips on how to get dates using the helpline. CJ laughs and says sure. I mention how he said he wasn’t looking to date and Seth says he tells every girl that so he doesn’t have to commit but can still get what he wants.” You dropped your fry back into your basket, trying to ignore the rolling nausea in your stomach.
“I don’t know about that,” David chuckled nervously.
“He didn’t deny it, David. He just laughed and walked away. Can you believe it? He’s using the helpline to get girls. Talk about abusing the system, not to mention the absolute lack of morality.” You definitely felt like you were going to be sick. “I quit. If that’s what guys like him and Seth are using that helpline for then I don’t want any part of it. And CJ? Audrey was right. He’s a skeevy player. I can’t believe I didn’t see it this whole time.” Jen shook her head. You were getting that all-too familiar falling feeling again.
“Wait, seriously? Guys are using the helpline to pick up girls?” Jack turned to David.
“No. Jen, I’m sure Seth was just kidding and CJ was just playing along. Nobody is using the helpline to pick anyone up. Everyone that works there knows the rules and they’re there to help callers. How could they pick anyone up, anyway? It’s all anonymous.”
“Yeah, but if they pushed for a date or something… It could happen.” You immediately felt your stomach jolt and like someone had punched you in the gut at the same time.
“It could,” David agreed. “But I doubt it does.”
“He has the same girl calling him every single week at the same time. What would keep her calling like that?” Jen interjected. You glanced away from the table for a moment, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer David would give.
“Is that true? Every week?” Jack asked in disbelief.
“It’s true,” David confirmed. “I actually got her once when CJ was out sick. She sounded nice.” If you could have, you would have given him a smile, thankful for David’s attempt to defend CJ, the helpline, and unknowingly you. But right then, you were trying not to hyperventilate. “And CJ appears to be helping her. He said she’s made a lot of progress since they started talking.”
“He talked to you about her?” Jen looked shocked. Oh no. Your chest started to feel tight.
“Only because he was going to be out sick that one day and in case she called and decided to talk to me, he wanted me to be up to speed in case she needed something. That’s all.”
“I feel badly for this girl. She probably thinks CJ is some great guy and she can trust him but based on what Seth said, he’s simply playing the long game with her. A girl whose trust he’s taking advantage of. I’m telling you, Audrey was right about him and I should’ve seen it.” Jen rubbed at her forehead. It was beyond hot in here and even though it wasn’t crowded, the room started to feel smaller.
“I don’t think that’s true, Jen,” David defended. “I don’t think he’s looking to take advantage of this girl at all. I think he truly wants to help her.”
“Yeah, that’s how it started with Audrey and look at how that turned out.” David dropped his gaze to his food, continuing to poke at it with his fork. There wasn’t much he could say to that though you wished he still would. “And if that’s true, he only wants to help her, then why was he laughing along when Seth talked about her and how she keeps him on the phone for hours? How is that helping her?”
You felt like your feet were locked in cement but your legs were wobbling to and fro. And yet you also felt like a large boulder was now sitting on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. How could any of this conversation be happening right now?
Jack glanced from David to Jen. “Perhaps David’s right, Jen. Maybe he was just playing along. That’s what guys do sometimes. You know that.”
“I don’t think that’s what that was. Either way, I quit.”
Jack and David started to urge her not to quit, but at that point you’d had enough. Your hands were clammy and you felt that feeling on your forehead, too. You needed cold, and air. “Excuse me,” you nearly rasped out and beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom. You could feel your dinner coming back up. Joey stopped you in your trek.
“Hey, Y/N, are you okay? You don’t look so good.”
You shook your head and dodged past her, hurrying to the bathroom. Once you reached it, you locked the door and pushed into a stall just in time. You emptied the contents of your stomach and once you were finished, you made your way towards the sink, splashing cold water on your face. You could feel the panic attack you were having and you tried your best to ward it off but to no avail.
You slid down the wall and struggled to breathe, trying the techniques CJ had taught you. You didn’t want to think about him right now but you also didn’t want to be having this happen while your friends sat right outside. Not to mention, you knew Joey was going to come check on you. You gasped for air and rubbed at your chest. Once it passed, you unlocked the door, made excuses to Joey and your friends, went home, showered, and cried yourself to sleep. For the first time in a while, you’d had a particularly bad episode and ended the night in tears: two things you hadn’t done since you’d started talking to CJ regularly. You felt as if all the progress you’d made was like a house of cards that fell to the ground after one card was pulled out from under you. And all because you’d trusted the wrong person.
So you stopped calling and instead, spent your Friday nights at the library, studying, so you wouldn’t be tempted to pick up the phone and call to confront the guy who’d betrayed your trust.
A few weeks later, you were sitting on Joey’s bed, watching Audrey unload her closet onto her mattress. Apparently, she was going to rehab, for real this time. She was ready to confront the fact that her drinking was out of control. Joey was helping her sort through everything and handed you things to fold and place in her suitcase. Eddie had already taken one heavy suitcase down to the car, along with a very high Bob.
You all looked up when there was a polite knock on their dorm room door. Joey got up to answer it, most likely thinking it was Eddie, but when she opened the door, it revealed another guy altogether.
There stood CJ, in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with a jacket covering his tall frame. Your heart skipped a beat before falling into your stomach but then leaping back into place and pounding faster than before for a whole other reason. You immediately grabbed a magazine from the nightstand and began sifting through it, your jaw clenched and you refusing to look in his direction.
Before anyone could say a word, Audrey groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw CJ hold up a placating hand in her direction. “I’m not here for you, okay? I’m actually looking for someone.”
You froze.
“I bet you are,” Audrey grumbled.
Joey crossed her arms. “Who?”
“A girl by the name of Jo who lives in this building.”
You mentally cursed yourself. You knew you had let the name of your dorm building slip once by accident but he hadn’t appeared to have heard you so you thought you were in the clear; apparently, he had heard you. Crap.
Joey tensed. Uh oh. You had a feeling this was going to come back to haunt you at some point. Here it was. “Why are you looking for me?”
CJ’s brow drew together. “You’re Jo?”
Audrey was suddenly at Joey’s side. “Yeah, why are you looking for her?”
“Jo is a girl who called the helpline. I haven’t heard from her in a few weeks and I just wanted to check on her.”
Her distaste for CJ forgotten, Audrey turned in shock to her roommate. “Joey Potter, you called the helpline?”
“What? No. Don’t be ridiculous, Audrey.” Joey then looked at CJ. “I don’t know who this girl is but it’s not me. Good luck in your search.” She went to close the door but CJ stopped her.
“Wait, so you’ve never heard of a girl named Jo who lives in this building?”
“No,” Audrey snapped. “Now, go away.”
“Hold on a second. Because Joanna Martin who lives on the 2nd floor isn’t her and has never heard of her. Now you’re saying you’re not her and you’ve never heard of her either?”
Audrey gave him a nasty smirk. “Imagine that. A girl using a fake name calling an anonymous helpline. She probably knows what a sleazeball you are and didn’t want you stalking her. If she was calling the helpline, she’s probably got enough on her plate. Best of luck, Stalker Boy.”
Audrey went to shut the door in his face but again, he stopped it.
“I don’t really care what you think of me. You want to think I’m the bad guy in everything that happened with us? That’s fine. But I’m actually trying to find this girl to help her.”
“Help her into your bed, you mean.”
His jaw clenched. “It’s not like that.”
“Oh, I bet it is but whatever.” Audrey rolled her eyes and turned back to you. “Y/N, have you ever heard of this girl he’s looking for?”
Your eyes snapped up to them and all three of them were now staring at you, waiting for your answer. Crap. CJ was looking right at you. Double crap. You shook your head and went back to your magazine.
“There you go. No one here has heard of her. Buh-bye now.”
Audrey was closing the door when Joey’s phone started to ring. Joey, who had gone back into the whirlwind of clothes, looked over at you. “Hey, can you get that? Eddie might be calling from his cell phone.”
You nodded and picked up the line. “Hello?”
“Hey, Y/N. Can I talk to Joey? Audrey’s friend, Bob, is getting a little impatient down here.”
“Sure. One sec.” You handed the phone to Joey. “It’s Eddie.” She took it and began rolling her eyes when Eddie was most likely telling her the same thing he had just told you. She came over, zipped up the suitcase you had been working on after dumping more things into it. “Do you mind taking this to Eddie downstairs? He’ll meet you in the lobby.”
“Sure thing.” You tossed the magazine back onto the night stand and grabbed the suitcase handle, picking it up and placing it on its wheels. You slipped your worn paperback copy of your book into the back pocket of your jeans, intent on returning it to your room when you came back up. Now that you knew CJ was trying to track you down and he was in the building, you didn’t feel comfortable having any clues pointing to your identity out in the open like that.
You grabbed the tail of the suitcase and began to pull it along. “Wow, Aud. Do you really need this many outfits?”
She looked up from her cell phone and gave you a smile. “Of course. Rehab is bound to be drab so I’m going to make it fab.” She shot you a wink and opened the door for you.
You laughed and shook your head, crossing over the threshold. You made your way to the elevator and pushed the button. While you were waiting, you heard behind you, “Need some help with that?”
You nearly jumped out of your skin. CJ was right there, behind you, talking directly to you. While a part of you wanted to tell him to take a hike, your desire for anonymity was greater. You turned and gave him a wan smile, shaking your head. His green eyes were intent on you and you didn’t care for that one bit. It was like he knew who you were without you even having to say it. Luckily, at that moment, the elevator dinged and the door opened. You went to roll the suitcase onto it when a hand picked it up out of nowhere.
“Let me give you a hand,” CJ offered, not waiting for you to reply and stepping into the elevator. You paused for a moment, considering not getting onto it with him but Eddie was expecting you and Joey and Audrey were waiting for you to come back. You let out a quiet sigh and stepped inside, hitting the button for the Lobby and waiting for the doors to close.
Once they did and you started descending, CJ glanced over at you. “So, Jo, were you planning on ever calling me again?”
Your heart started to pound but you forced yourself to remain cool as a cucumber, hoping he wouldn’t recognize your voice. You arched a questioning brow up at him. “I don’t know who you think I am but my name’s Y/N. Sorry to disappoint.” You turned back to the door.
“The Green Mile book in your back pocket says otherwise.”
Crap. You tried to think quickly. “That’s just a book I’m reading for class.” You decided to channel Audrey, the queen of mean when she wanted to be; perhaps that would get him to leave you alone. The doors were opening and you turned to give him a smirk. “NIce try, though, Sherlock. Better get back to Watson before he misses you.” You grabbed the tail of the suitcase and nearly stormed out of the elevator.
CJ was suddenly at your side. “I know it’s you. Why are you trying so hard to act like it’s not?”
You shook your head, choosing to ignore him. Thankfully, Eddie came into sight, rushing to get the suitcase.
“Thank you, thank you.” He picked it up and gave you a look. “About how many more of these are coming down, do you think?”
You shrugged. “I don’t know. She has a lot of outfits. Joey’s got her work cut out for her.”
Eddie groaned and then noticed CJ standing next to you. “Good to see you again, man.”
“Likewise.”
Eddie glanced between you and CJ before walking away. Great. He was bound to mention that to Joey who would most likely question you about it later thanks to CJ’s impromptu appearance earlier. You spun on your heel and headed back to the elevator, punching the button.
CJ was suddenly next to you. “What happened? Why did you stop calling?” He quietly asked you.
You didn’t answer him, just kept staring straight ahead, your jaw clenched.
He leaned in slightly, his voice even quieter. “Did I make you nervous by offering to meet you? I was only trying to help. Nothing funny, I promise.”
When the doors opened, you stepped inside and of course, he followed you. The doors closed and your ride up began.
“Are you going to talk to me or just keep ignoring me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know your voice. It’s you.” After another quiet moment, he begged, “Would you please just talk to me? What happened?”
You shook your head.
“Something obviously happened to make you stop calling. So, talk to me. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
You glared over at him. “Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now please stop bothering me.” CJ looked as if you’d slapped him for a moment and you felt guilty but then you immediately remembered what Jen had said that night at the bar.
He gave you a curt nod and turned to face the door. Once it opened, you went to step out when he lifted the book out of your back pocket.
“Hey! Give that back!” He held it out of your reach, opening it to find the note from your dad on the inside page that he’d written after he bought it for you. Why did you have to mention that in your phone conversations? That was a dead giveaway that yes, Jo was indeed you. How could you have been so stupid?
CJ gestured to the note. “Tell me again how it’s not you.”
You snatched the book out of his hands and hurried down the hall to your room. You would’ve gone back to Audrey’s and Joey’s room, but you were afraid he’d out you to them. Even if they didn’t believe him, you still remembered Audrey’s reaction when she thought it might be Joey for a moment and the latter’s response.
“Y/N, wait,” CJ begged behind you. “Please, can we just talk for a minute?” You were unlocking your door when he was right next to you. “Just one minute. Please. That’s all I’m asking. Then, if you want, you’ll never see or hear from me again.”
You mulled it over for a moment. You could do one minute, you supposed, and get this over with. You glanced up at him and nodded, pretending not to see the relief that filled his expression. You opened the door and then held it open wider for him to follow.
You saw your roommate sitting on her bed, talking on the phone to her boyfriend. “Stace,” you interrupted. “Can you give us a minute?”
She frowned. “I’m kind of in the middle of—”
“I need the room.” Your tone brooked no argument. You surprised her; usually, you kept to yourself and never really stood up to her if she got mean or demanding. But you were not in the mood for any of her crap right then. You were at your limit.
Stacey scoffed but got to her feet. “One second, babe.” She glared at you, which you were more than happy to return, and then turned it onto CJ as well. “Boys aren’t allowed to stay up here so make it quick. You know the rules.”
You huffed out a snort. “The rule you break almost every other night? Got it, Stace, thanks for looking out.” You practically shut the door in her scowling face. You turned to find CJ’s eyes trained on you.
“So that’s the roommate, huh?” You shrugged. “Exactly how I pictured her, scowl and everything.”
You didn’t laugh at his joke and instead, crossed your arms. “You wanted to talk?”
He pressed his lips together and thrust his hands into his jacket pockets. “Why did you stop calling?”
You wanted to tell him the truth but it also seemed best to just get him out of there as soon as possible. He knew who you really were now and that was a problem. Especially if your friends found out you were the girl that had been calling him every week. Because sooner or later, they would want to know why and you weren’t ready to talk about that or have them look at you funny. You knew they’d be supportive, especially Joey and Audrey, but you also knew things would change. And you weren’t quite ready for that to happen.
“I’ve been doing better so there was no need. You should know, you made me your pet project after all.” You didn’t mean to be harsh but you were still angry.
His brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”
“You know. I’m the girl who calls you every week to talk your ear off and keeps you on the phone for hours. The girl you’ve supposedly been trying to pick up through the helpline, though apparently I’m not the only one.”
His eyes widened. “Y/N, that’s not true at all. I don’t use the helpline to pick up girls or try to get dates. I don’t date, you know I don’t. I don’t know who told you that but it’s not true.”
“But the other part is?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Because that’s how your buddy Seth put it, the way Jen tells it.”
CJ huffed out a mirthless laugh, rubbing at his forehead and giving a nod. “Jen. That’s who you heard this from.”
“Don’t even,” you snapped. “David also mentioned how you told him all about me and my issues.” You used quotation marks on the last word.
His hand dropped. “Okay, first off, you don’t have issues, no more than anybody else around here, myself included. Second, I only told David because I was going to be out that one night. I wanted to make sure if you called in that you were taken care of. That’s it. David is one of our better counselors, he’s a friend, and I trust him completely.”
Your jaw tightened. “That still doesn’t explain why Seth would even say anything like that. And you laughed! You stood there and laughed as this guy, who I don’t know by the way, is turning me calling you for help into a joke! Is that what I am? The joke at the office? Does everyone there know how I’ve been calling you every week and boring you to death with my problems?”
“What? No! You’re not a joke. And you’re not—”
“Really? Because it sure sounded like it to me based on what Jen said.”
“Okay, let’s get something straight. You’re not boring me to death when you call, you’re not talking my ear off, or keeping me stuck on the phone with you, or anything else that someone else might have said. I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to be there for you and try to help. Then when we started talking about more than that, I wanted to talk to you even more. If I didn’t want to talk to you at all, if you were such a nuisance, then why would I ask you to call back every week or give you my phone number even?”
“But you weren’t trying to pick me up.”
“No, I wasn’t. I wanted to be available to you if you needed to talk to me outside of the hours I had at The Stand.”
“Yeah, because I was your pet project.”
“No, you weren’t and why do you keep saying that?”
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not.”
“Isn’t that what you do, though? Isn’t that why you tracked me down? Isn’t that why you kept trying to get my number and even suggested we meet though the helpline’s supposed to be anonymous? You look for girls who are messed up and try to be their white knight. It gives you some sort of satisfaction, some twisted sense of purpose… That’s what happened with Audrey, right?” Again, he looked like you slapped him but this time, you didn’t feel guilty. You were only speaking the truth. He had told you how much he wanted to help Audrey and how somehow they ended up in bed together and before he knew it, he really liked her and wanted to see more of her. In the end, he’d admitted to you that it might have been him confusing his desire to help her with his interest in her. That maybe Audrey had been right in what she’d said.
You watched as his shoulders deflated slightly and he let out a heavy breath, hanging his head. You bit your lip and glanced away from him, not wanting to see him look so defeated. You had to be strong, you had to stand up for yourself, and not let him or anyone else take advantage of you. That was the silent vow you’d made to yourself after you’d cried yourself to sleep that night you found out how you were being used and made a mockery of.
“I tracked you down because I was worried,” he spoke softly. You turned back to find him staring at you, remorse radiating from him. You felt slightly bad for hurting him but you had said nothing but the truth, from his own lips. “It wasn’t like you not to call so I thought maybe something happened or maybe I made you nervous with that last call. Like I said, I gave you my number because I wanted to be there for you anytime you needed me, even if I wasn’t working. So this way you always had a way to get a hold of me if you needed to. I only asked for yours because I did like talking to you and I thought we were becoming friends. I know that’s not the norm for the helpline and it’s never happened before, to me or to anyone else that I know of, but like I said, I enjoyed talking to you. I only offered to meet you at Student Activities that day because you seemed nervous to try it alone and I didn’t want you to feel like that. I would’ve made that offer to anyone that needed it.” He nervously licked his lips. “I do like you but it has nothing to do with my wanting to help you or make sure you’re okay. I made a mistake with Audrey but I learned from it. I told you that.” He sighed before continuing. “I like you, Y/N, because you’re funny and smart and kind. Even if we didn’t meet through the helpline, I still would have liked you once I got to talk to you, once I got to know you better. That’s the truth.”
He turned to leave when he stopped suddenly. “By the way, Seth is the guy who usually relieves me on Friday nights. That’s how he knew about you calling every week. He always liked to razz me about being on the phone with you since I made him fifteen minutes late for his shift that one time. I only laughed because it was obvious he was showing off for Jen, that he likes her, and I was trying not to embarrass him in front of her. I did end up talking to him later about it, though, and asked him not to mention it again in front of her or anyone else. He agreed; he’s not a bad guy.” He glanced back at you over his shoulder. “I’m sorry this happened. If you call the helpline again and want to talk to someone else, I understand. If you don’t want to call at all, I understand that, too. Just…take care of yourself, alright?”
You averted your eyes, not wanting him to see the tears building in them, and you gave him a curt nod. You only looked up again when the door snicked closed. You pretended a tear didn’t suddenly roll down your cheek and you told yourself that you had done the right thing. Though it certainly didn’t feel like it in the moment, deep within your chest.
You stared at your phone, pacing back and forth as you chewed on your thumbnail. It had been almost a month since CJ walked out of your dorm room, leaving you more conflicted than you felt prior to his arrival. You had turned his explanation over and over in your mind so much that you had begun to dream about him every night. You had more panic attacks during that time, to the point where you’d finally taken the plunge and made an appointment to see a therapist. You’d told your parents everything you’d been experiencing, making sure they heard you this time, and told them you needed help. Your mother was still annoyed with you but your father was supportive, especially when you told him that you had a group of friends you met up with pretty regularly. He agreed to help with payments for your therapy.
You were doing better, just like you had been while talking to CJ, and the therapist had even more techniques in her toolbox that she taught you how to use. You’d even opened up to her about CJ and everything that happened with him. She was the initial reason why you were considering making a call that you hadn’t made in quite a while.
When you saw the clock hit 7:21, you made your decision. You huffed out a breath, picked up the phone, and dialed the all-too familiar number.
“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”
You resumed your pacing, nervous, unsure of how to say what you wanted to.
“Hello?”
You’ve got this.
“Hello?”
Just do it already. Talk to him.
“Listen, if you’re—”
“What are your plans for tomorrow afternoon?” You rushed out before you lost your nerve.
“Jo?” You appreciated him using your fake name. “Is that you?”
“Well?” You asked.
“Uh, tomorrow? I’m free...”
“Would you…want to get some coffee? Maybe?”
“Coffee, huh?” You could hear the smile in his voice. “Jo, you’re not calling the helpline to ask me out on a coffee date, are you? Because that would be a serious misuse of this valuable resource the college provides,” he teased.
“Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll just wait until Seth is on shift then and call him up to ask him instead. Thanks, though. Bye.”
“Don’t you dare,” he laughed. You lifted the phone back up to your ear. “What time and what coffee shop?”
You couldn’t help but smile. “Got a pen?”
You walked into the coffee shop ten minutes early, intent on getting a table and settling in before CJ arrived. To your surprise, he was already there, waving you over. You approached, feeling your heartbeat speed up with every step. “You’re early.”
“I wanted to make sure we got a good table.” You had a feeling that wasn’t the only reason. The worry shadowing his expression confirmed it. Did he really think you had called him up to ask him to meet you only for you not to show? Then again, you supposed you couldn’t blame him.
“Good thinking.” You gestured towards the line with your thumb. “I’m going to get some coffee. Do you want anything?”
He was immediately on his feet. “I’ll get it. You sit down. You still like lattes?”
You gave him a small smile and nodded; he remembered.
He returned your smile. “Okay. Here, take a seat. I’ll be back in a minute.” You watched him walk over to the line as you did just that.
You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous, but you were taking your therapist’s advice. You were moving your friendship with CJ away from the helpline and out into the real world. You were giving him another chance while also allowing both of you to start over. If CJ agreed to, that is.
A few minutes later, he returned and placed your cup in front of you. You gave him a smile of thanks and waited for him to join you.
“So,” he started once he was settled. “You called in.”
“Only to ask you to meet me,” you pointed out.
The corner of his lips tipped up in a genuine smile. “I’m glad you did.”
“Me, too.” And you meant it. You were happy he’d said yes. “I actually asked you to meet me because I wanted to thank you.”
His brows drew together. “Thank me?”
You nodded and began to tell him about all of the recent developments in your life, including therapy. You also apologized for how harsh you’d been the last time you saw each other but he waved it off, saying you didn’t need to and he understood. He listened intently and his smile grew when you mentioned how the therapy was helping and your panic attacks were starting to lessen.
“I’m really happy to hear it, Y/N, and I’m glad you’re doing better.”
You bit at your lip, feeling nervous about speaking this next part. “It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t helped me the way you did, especially that first night. So, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he murmured.
Your heart began to pound against your rib cage but you bravely surged forward and kissed his cheek. When you sat back in your chair, his eyes were wide and you felt your face get hot. “Sorry. I just really wanted to do that for a long time. I hope that was okay.”
He grinned. “More than okay.” You felt relief sweep through you. “I was just thinking—”
“I know. You’re not dating, and we’re friends. Don’t worry, I understand.”
He studied you for a moment before speaking again. “I was going to say ‘I was just thinking what a coincidence because there’s something I’ve wanted to do for a really long time, too.’” His hand gently covered yours and he slowly leaned in, giving you time to pull away or tell him to stop. You weren’t going to do either.
His lips gently brushed against yours and you felt a thrill rush through you at the contact. You had imagined kissing him so many times but the fantasy did absolutely no justice to the real thing. When you broke apart but he didn’t lean back right away, he murmured, “Was that okay?”
“More than okay,” you whispered before pulling him back into you, both of you grinning like idiots before your lips connected again.
You stopped, seeing the front of the building you were about to go into. “Are you sure we should be doing this?” You asked nervously.
CJ turned back to you and gave you a reassuring smile before kissing your nose. “Yes. We should.”
“But—”
“Everything’s going to be fine,” he assured you. “Trust me. I’m right here with you, okay?” He pecked your lips, tightened his hold on your hand, and began pulling you forward.
“Okay.” You didn’t sound so sure about this and truthfully, you weren’t.
CJ chuckled and led you inside. The Stand office was decorated with balloons and streamers and there was even confetti on the floor. One of the counselors was leaving since she was soon to graduate and a party was being thrown for her last day. You tried not to get overwhelmed at the amount of people filling the small space. It was overly warm in here and you could barely hear yourself think over the din of multiple conversations going on at once. Somewhere music was playing at a decent level. You noted a room in the back where through the window you could see two people sitting, talking on the phone, a closed door in between them and the noise.
CJ intertwined your fingers and moved you both towards a group of a few people that he was intent on talking to, other people greeting him as he passed. You remembered the techniques you had been taught and tried to put them into action while reminding yourself that you were with CJ and he wasn’t going to abandon you.
He stopped and greeted the group before he turned to you smiling. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend.”
One of the guys laughed. “Ah, so this is Y/N.” Your heart started hammering inside your chest. “CJ hasn’t shut up about you since you two started dating.” You nearly sighed in relief.
CJ shrugged, grinning down at you. “Seth’s not wrong.”
Your eyes widened before you turned back to the guy. “Oh, so you’re Seth.”
Seth beamed. “Aww, CJ, you told her about me? I just knew we had something special,” he joked.
You frowned. “Hey now. Go get your own CJ. This one’s mine.” You winked up at CJ who laughed.
He let go of your hand to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you into him. “Definitely yours,” he whispered huskily.
Seth pretended to gag. “Ugh. Young love. Gross. You can have him, Y/N.”
“Damn right I do,” you laughed as CJ wrapped himself around you from behind and leaned down to kiss your cheek.
From that moment on, it wasn’t so bad. CJ circulated around the room to different groups, introducing you each time. With him by your side, you began to feel more comfortable and you opened up bit by bit. At one point, CJ took your hand and led you away. “I want to show you something.”
“Again?” You teased. “Didn’t you already show me something back in my dorm earlier?”
“Ha ha. No, this is something different. Though I will definitely be showing you again when I get you out of here and back to my place.”
“Ooo. You sure know how to sweet talk a girl, Mr. Braxton.”
He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, and pulled you into a kiss that left you breathless. “Just a small preview for later.”
“A small preview?” You panted. You just loved teasing him and couldn’t resist.
He rolled his eyes in amusement. “Come on.”
CJ led you over to a desk and with his free hand, he swiped confetti off of the seat. “This is it. My station,” he told you.
Your eyes roamed over the computer, the keyboard, the notepad and pens, stopping on the corded phone. So this was it. This was where CJ had sat on those Friday nights during your conversations. You smiled to yourself at the memory.
You let out a squeal when CJ quickly sat down in the chair and pulled you into his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep from falling, glaring at his laugh. You softened though when you looked back over the desk. “So this is where you sat on those nights we talked?”
“Uh huh. Though I much prefer you here on this end with me.” He gripped your chin between his fingers and turned you to him, kissing you sweetly. You snuck your fingers into his hair and tilted your head to deepen it, not caring right then about anyone or anything else around you.
You and CJ had been dating for a while now and it was starting to become serious. He had met your parents when they came to visit. Your dad had liked him right away. Your mom, on the other hand, had given him a bit of a hard time but underneath the harsh exterior she was presenting, you could tell she liked him, too. He had initially planned to transfer to a school in New York, which you more than supported (though you were secretly heartbroken). You reminded him that you had done the phone thing once upon a time and you could do it again, if he wanted. After contemplating it, he decided to stay in Boston.
“Please don’t tell me you chose to stay because of me. I’m not going anywhere. If it’s a great opportunity for you, you should go. I don’t want you to regret not going.”
He’d simply smiled. “I have a great opportunity right here and I would regret leaving.” He’d kissed your nose. “Besides, Boston’s home.”
“CJ, you should go. I’m almost done and I can come visit you. It’s only a few hours’ drive. You could show me things like the Empire State Building or take me to a museum or a play or show me Times Square.” You’d tried to make it sound enticing but inside it was killing you. Everyone knew long distance relationships had their problems and who knew? Maybe he might meet someone new in the Big Apple. But you also wanted him to do what was right for him, just like you’d spoken with your therapist about. You didn’t want him to resent you later on if he didn’t take this opportunity now and you certainly didn’t want him to have any regrets. “We could even visit Jen and Jack, see how her Grams is doing.”
Jen and Jack had transferred to New York. You had been worried to tell her that you and CJ were dating but while she was a little miffed in the beginning, she was more focused on the developing situation with her grandmother who had been diagnosed with cancer. Eventually, she forgave you before she left and gave you her blessing. You had been relieved; Jen was a good person, a good friend, and you didn’t want to lose her friendship. Jack had been worried about Jen’s reaction but for the most part, he had been fine with it. David was happy for you both. Audrey was doing better these days and though she had wanted to know what the hell you were thinking by shacking up with The Sleaze (as she referred to him), she had eventually told you she loved you and just wanted you to be happy. Joey asked you if you were sure when you told her and when you assured her that you were, she pretty much said the same thing as her former roommate and gave you a hug. She gave you a look when you pulled away and you knew that she had connected the dots on who you really were to CJ, but to her credit, she mercifully never said anything. Pacey and Emma had shrugged (CJ had apologized to Pacey at some point after what happened with Audrey and they had resolved things), wishing you well. Dawson…well, you never really got to know Dawson all that well during his brief visits so no conversation needed to be had there. All in all, your friends were supportive, even if still a little wary of how things were going to work out. You were happy, though. It was strange but shifting from friends into romance proved to be an easier transition then you thought it would be.
CJ laid his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes, as he stroked your cheek with his thumb. “I’m not going without you.” You went to speak, to remind him you weren’t going anywhere, when he cut you off. “I know what I want. I’m okay with my decision. I need you to be, too.”
You tenderly stroked his arm. “Are you sure?” You whispered, worried he was making a mistake.
“More than sure.” He then pulled you to him for a kiss.
“Okay,” you whispered to his lips before kissing him again.
And now you had met all of his co-workers at The Stand and had seen where he worked a few days out of the week. He had offered to bring you several times before, but you had been hesitant to take him up on it, still worried someone might figure out who you really were. It’s not that you were embarrassed that you had called the helpline for help, but your business was your business and you didn’t want to be seen as that girl CJ got himself through the service. You both obviously knew that wasn’t the case but people talked, people judged, and you just wanted to steer clear of both as long as you possibly could. You knew you shouldn’t care what anyone thought or said, just like CJ didn’t; it was something you were currently working on in therapy.
“So,” you teased when he finally broke away for air. “Is there a switchboard somewhere where you have somebody directing all the girls to you when they call? Is that how I got you every single time I called?”
He grinned. “Not exactly. I told everybody that any calls that came in on Fridays at 7:00 were mine.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“Well, how did you know I would call every single time?” You huffed out. “How do you know I might not have gotten held up? Or made plans at the last second? Or got fed up with you?”
He gave you a cocky smirk. “Because you liked talking to me. I could tell.”
You playfully swatted at his shoulder, making him laugh, and rolled your eyes. “It always amazes me that you’re able to make it through doorways with that massive ego of yours. That can’t be how you knew I would call you every time.”
His smirk grew and he nodded.
“I hate you,” you mumbled. You didn’t really mean it and he knew you didn’t.
CJ pulled you closer up against him. “You have a weird way of showing that.” He inclined his head towards your embrace around his neck.
“True,” you murmured and kissed him again.
“Plus,” CJ added when you pulled back. “You always said you would call back and I believed you.”
“Better,” you decided. “Though I will begrudgingly admit that I did like talking to you.”
“Like I said, I could—”
“Hush.” You covered his lips with yours and he chuckled into your mouth. When you pulled back this time, you laid your forehead against his, your eyes closed, smiling. “I love you,” you murmured.
“I love you, too” he whispered back to you, lifting up to press a kiss to your brow before you buried your head into his neck and he discreetly snuck his hands under your shirt to rub your back, just the way you liked.
“Want to get out of here?” He asked you after a few minutes had passed.
“Mmm.” You lifted your head to look him in the eye. “No Fleetwood Mac tonight, though.”
He laughed and helped you to your feet. “What have you got against one of the greatest bands of all time?”
“Nothing. It’s just weird to listen to that chorus when we’re about to…well, you know.” You could feel your cheeks starting to warm.
He grinned salaciously at you. “Oh, I know. Hey, at least it’s not the Star Wars theme.” He snickered at your glare and picked up your hand, kissing it. “No Fleetwood Mac. Got it.” He intertwined your fingers and his grin softened into an affectionate smile before he led you out of there. You quickly made your goodbyes and hurried back to his place where he indeed kept his promise.
Later, as CJ slept, you repeatedly ran your fingers through his messy hair in soothing strokes as you studied him. Who knew calling the helpline that one Friday night would lead you here? Where you were happy, in love, and doing much better than you ever thought possible? You had gone from feeling overwhelmed by your education to feeling a different type of overwhelmed together. Overwhelming love and affection for this special person in your life; overwhelming gratitude for the progress you’d been able to make in managing your anxiety and panic attacks as best you could; and overwhelming contentment with every single moment, no matter the ups and downs that was best known as life. Regardless of whatever happened from here, you knew you’d be okay and you’d handle whatever was thrown your way. Like CJ had once said, one day at a time.
In his sleep, your boyfriend reached out for you and pulled you in closer to him, snuggling into your side and burrowing into your neck, making you smile.
And to think, you almost hadn’t made that call. You laid your head against CJ’s and closed your eyes. You were so glad you did.
A/N: Sequel
I absolutely love this, CJ would definitely be the perfect boyfriend 😞🤍
Kiss Me First
masterlist
summary: you keep a student after class to work on their late english homework, but coach teague wants his star quarterback at practice
paring: jason teague x female teacher!reader
rating: R for language
word count: 0.9k
warnings: reader’s last name is smith (simply because it looks better than ‘miss.y/l/n’), absolutely no spoilers for smallville so if you haven’t watched it that’s okay
author’s note: just some jason teague fluff because i haven’t seen any on here and that makes me sad
Being the 12th grade English teacher and dating the football coach had quite a few perks - a quiet office to make out in, carpooling to and from the school, and most of all getting to spend so much quality time together. But, you and Jason butted heads when it came to the importance of actual school. Jason insisted that his football players didn’t need great grades, they should focus on the sport instead. Obviously, you disagreed. So, that ended you here; a student of yours, Clark Kent, had four late assignments. Instead of giving him four poor grades, you offered he could make it up by working on the assignments after class. He agreed and was now thirty minutes late to football practice.
“Y/n! You’re the teacher keeping Clark after class?” Jason asked when he walked into the classroom. “He’s the quarterback for fuck’s sake!”
“First off, we’re on school property and there’s a student in the room; watch your language. Second, hello honey, how’s your day going?” You smiled, not looking away from the papers you were grading.
Jason sighed and rolled his eyes, “My day’s going fine,” he grumbled. “Especially lunch, whew! God, the most beautiful woman surprised me in my office and we-”
“Okay!” You turned on your chair and looked at him, a shit-eating grin on his face.
“I knew that would get your attention,” he replied and walked up to your desk. “Seriously, though, can Clark please come to practice?”
“Jason! C’mon the kid’s gonna fail this class!”
“I’m gonna fail?” Clark exclaimed from the desk he sat at near the back of the room.
“You will if you keep this up!” you replied. “Football is not as important as grades, Mr.Kent.”
“Don’t listen to Miss Smith here.” Jason shook his head. “Football is way more important than any English paper.”
You groaned loudly and put your face in your hands. “You’re an idiot Coach Teague. And I’m not forcing Clark to be here. I’m grading three week’s worth of homework over the weekend, if he doesn’t get these assignments in by the time I leave here, it’s an automatic zero. Shouldn’t take him more than two hours overall.”
“Please?” Jason pouted. He bent down and kissed you. “We’ve got a big game next week, the team needs to practice as a team!”
“Jason, I love you, but I can’t in good conscience let this kid fail my class this semester!”
“I love you more,” he mumbled and kissed you again.
He turned to walk back out but you gripped his hand and stopped him.
“Clark, I’ll give you another extension for these assignments,” you told him, Jason smiled widely.
“Thank you, Miss Smith,” Clark replied before throwing his things in his backpack.
“They’ll be due Monday, okay?” you asked, he nodded and thanked you again before leaving the room.
“Thanks, hun,” Jason said. He once again turned to leave but again you stopped him.
“Oh, don’t think for a second you’re getting off that easy, mister!”
“Sweetheart, I love you but I really gotta go!”
“Kiss me first?” you asked, flashing puppy dog eyes that made it impossible for him to say no. He pulled you to your feet and kissed you; your hands roaming up his chest and resting on the back of his neck as your fingers played with his hair.
“God, I love you so fucking much!” he whispered against your lips. “So goddamn much!” His hands roamed down your back and rested on your ass, squeezing it gently. “You’ve got such a perfect ass, honey, anyone ever tell you that?”
“Yeah this one guy keeps telling me!”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, he’s got these beautiful green eyes that turn into a shade of brown when the lighting is dim, an adorable nose, and an array of freckles painting his overall perfect face.”
“Painting? You really are a writer,” he mumbled and kept kissing you so you couldn’t protest his comment.
“God he’s got the most perfect lips, too!” you smiled. “They’re perpetually this gorgeous shade of musty pink-”
“Are you gonna keep talking or can we make-out properly?”
“Don’t even get me started on that voice of his, good fucking lord!” You kissed down his neck then back up to his cheek. “And when he smiles he gets these little eye-wrinkles right here.” You kissed his eye wrinkles as his smile deepened.
“Okay, now you’re making me blush sweetheart.”
“Awe, are you worried all your big, tough athletes out there are gonna see you all smiling and blushing?” You teased him.
“Nah, they all know you make me crazy,” he said quietly and kissed you again. “I really better go before they come looking for me though.”
“Mkay, I love you,” you replied as he broke away.
“I love you too, and I’ll be back here to take you home in,” he checked his watch as he walked toward the door, “one hour and twenty-four minutes.” He smirked and pointed at you as he entered the hallway and said, “I love you!” With that he jogged away.
The realization slowly set in that you really let Clark walk out when he was nearly one month behind on homework.
“God fucking damn it,” you groaned and you slumped back down into your chair; shaking your head with a slight smile.
Dean with a sensitive gf .ᐟ
headcannons ٠࣪⭑ Dean Winchester x sensitive!reader (f), non-explicit, Deans smitten, lwk self indulgent, no major r look descriptions— I’m so sorry tpm pt3 is taking so long, here’s this while y’all wait and I try to gain more motivation to write!!
٠࣪⭑ The first time he saw your eyes well up out of nowhere made him panic, what had happened so fast to make you so upset? You were just watching a movie! That panic dwindled when he realized the sad emotional scene in said movie was the one that had moved you to tears, his panic was replaced by a soft yet deep fondness for your tender heart. Now, when he looks over at you during any remotely sad scene— from fictional, documentary, unrealistic, sitcom, even animated, whatever it is— he knows he’ll find tears in your eyes and a pout on your lips. He won’t dismiss you or tell you it’s just fake, or to toughen up, he’ll just pull you closer with a gentle smile on his lips, and kiss the top of your head and your tear-damp cheeks.
٠࣪⭑ You guys don’t fight much, which actually comes as quite a surprise to many (especially Sam), but when you do there’s been many a times where tears build in your eyes. Whether it’s from you being angry and upset, or because his voice is even slightly raised towards you, or even because you felt too mean. After you’d both gone your separate ways he’d find you with tear streaked cheeks and a blank expression on your face, often curled up and stewing in your own thoughts. If he were still fuming, even with good reason, it would disappear once he saw you. His heart would clench and his shoulders would drop. “Baby…” he’d practically whisper before making his way to you. Even if you shy away from him, hiding your face, he’d still reach out. Gently and kindly making you focus on him. “m’sorry for raising my voice… didn’t mean to… ‘was just worked up… wasn’t mad at you, sweetheart” his voice so soft and earnest, waiting for your stubbornness to subside before pulling you into him.
٠࣪⭑ (for my fellow girlies with PMDD) Your Luteal phase kicks your butt every time. As an already sensitive person it’s sometimes a little bit of a whirlwind for Dean, but he can’t imagine how much worse it is for you, he’s not the one who feels like the world is against him, times a million. Like if you two and Sam are out on a hunt, doing normal hunter things, like Dean trying to get information out of a lady. The lady is obviously infatuated with him, I mean who wouldn’t be? But your rational thinking exits the building when you need it most… because on the drive back to the motel, even with Dean's hand on your thigh, you can’t stop thinking about the woman’s hand on his bicep or the way he smiled a little as if he was flattered, you couldn’t stop your mind from drifting to the thoughts of “I bet she’s not a soft emotional wreck” and “she looks like she can hold her own” or even “Dean doesn’t actually want someone like me…” Your extra quiet state made Dean ask what was wrong and you stubbornly tried to brush it off before you were back in your shared motel room and you just blew up. A sad, irritated, sensitive, blubbering mess. Dean was patient, then gave you the “I only want you” speech and meant every word, which only made you cry more because now you felt bad for making him feel bad by being too insecure. To which he just kissed you so gently and so all-consuming that you could only think about him, and to shut you up in the nicest way possible.
٠࣪⭑ Dean hates the way your bleeding heart can make you your own enemy, how it can twist things and make you feel so much. But he also adores how you feel so much, and the way your heart is too small to contain all the love you have. He adores the way you crouch down to pet stray kittens in alleys behind diners and beg him to help you take them somewhere warm and safe, he adores how sentimental you can be about things like certain shirts or cups, he adores how you always smile and say hi to little kids and babies as if you knew them personally. He loves how much you love, and he will never take it for granted, especially when it’s directed towards him.
Golden Afternoon
Summary: Watching Ben with your children changes something. Somewhere between flowers, scraped knees, and quiet moments in a cabin, you fall in love with him all over again. Pairing: Ben x Female Reader Warnings: Pure fluff A/N: Soft, domestic Ben has my whole heart, so here's a little slice of that.| English is not my first language. Word count: 888 words
The forest was quiet, but alive. Sunlight filtered through the trees, breaking into soft patches of gold across the ground. Leaves crunched under your feet as you walked, the air fresh, cool, calm.
You walked a few steps behind them.
Not because you had to.
Just… because you liked watching.
Ben walked ahead with the kids.
Beau, the little one, in one arm, steady and secure, while Autumn, the older, walked beside him, holding onto his fingers with her tiny hand.
“Careful,” Ben muttered when Beau leaned too far forward, reaching for a branch. “I got you.”
Beau babbled something incoherent.
Ben huffed lightly. “Yeah, I know. Still not letting you fall.”
You smiled faintly to yourself.
Autumn suddenly let go of his hand, spotting something on the ground.
“Hey—” Ben started, already alert.
But she only crouched down, picking up a small flower. Ben watched closely.
Ready. Always ready.
You noticed that.
Autumn stood back up, proudly holding the flower.
Then, without hesitation, she reached up toward Ben.
He frowned slightly.
“…what are you doing?”
She made a small insisting sound, pushing the flower closer to his face.
Ben stared at it for a second.
“Alright, fine.”
Carefully, he lowered himself just enough for her to reach.
Autumn placed the flower in his hair.
Not very well. It barely stayed.
You had to bite back a laugh. Ben straightened again, completely serious, like nothing had happened.
Beau blinked at him.
You finally let out a soft laugh.
Ben glanced back at you.
“…don’t you dare.”
“You look beautiful.”
“Yeah, yeah.” But he didn’t take it off. You kept walking.
A few steps later, Beau wiggled out of his arms, insisting to be put down. Ben hesitated.
“…you’re gonna eat it if I let you go.” Beau made a sound.
Ben sighed. “Alright. Your funeral.”
He set him down carefully.
Beau took two very confident steps and immediately tripped.
Your breath caught slightly, but Ben was already there.
He crouched instantly, steadying him before he could even fully hit the ground.
“I got you,” he said, voice calm, firm. Beau blinked, more surprised than hurt. Ben brushed dirt off his little hands. “You’re fine. Walk it off.”
You watched all of it. Every second.
The way Ben didn’t panic. Didn’t overreact. Just… caught him. Like it was instinct.
Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
You stayed out there longer than planned. Just walking. Letting the kids explore. Letting the moment exist.
And the whole time—
Ben never once looked away for too long.
That night, in the cabin where they were staying, was quiet. The kids were asleep. Finally.
You sat on the edge of the bed, your hands resting loosely in your lap. Lost in thought.
Ben leaned against the doorframe, watching you. He had been for a while.
“…you gonna tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”
You blinked slightly, pulled back to the present. You glanced up at him.
“I saw you today.” Ben frowned slightly.
“…okay?”
“With them.” Another pause. “They love you,” you added quietly.
"They're easy kids." You smiled.
"No." He frowned slightly.
"They're easy because of you."
Ben blinked. "You think so?"
"I know so."
He stayed quiet. "I watched you all afternoon." You laughed softly. "The way you caught Beau before he even fell... the way you let Autumn put a flower in your hair just because you knew it'd make her happy..."
Ben instinctively reached up and scratched the back of his head.
"I forgot that thing was even there." You smiled.
"I know."
"I don't think I realized it until today."
"What?"
"You make it look so easy." Ben's expression softened. "They don't have to wonder if you're paying attention." You smiled. "They already know you are. They know you'll catch them." He looked down for a second. "They know they're loved."
"...I try."
"I know. And that's why they're going to grow up believing that's what love looks like."
"So..." He smiled nervously. "...you've been obsessed with my parenting?"
"A little."
"And?"
You stepped closer. "And I fell in love with you all over again today."
"I was terrified I'd screw them up."
You shook your head immediately "You won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because you worry about it." he smiled a little.
"That's your evidence?"
"Good parents are the ones who keep asking themselves if they're doing enough."
"...Guess I'm in trouble then."
"Why?"
"'Cause I don't think I'll ever stop asking."
You cupped his face smiling. "Good."
"Good?"
"It means they'll never stop being loved."
You were about to close the distance between you both when a small voice interrupted. "Daddy?"
Both of you turned toward the door where the voice had come from. Ben sighed dramatically.
"...I get one romantic moment every fiscal year." You laughed.
Autumn was standing there, hugging a stuffed animal.
"I had a bad dream."
Ben didn't even hesitate. He opened his arms. "Come here, Bug."
She ran toward him. Ben scooped her up with one arm. With the other, he took your hand. And as the three of you headed back to the bed, Beau started crying from the other room.
Ben let his head fall back.
"...Of course." You laughed.
"Need backup?"
He looked at you with a tired smile. "...Always."
This song just gives the perfect vibe
