Hello! Welcome to my Shifting Blog! My name is Seth or you can call me Sheep boy. Any pronouns !!
☆₊˚.☁︎ ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.
Most of what will be posted here will be me blabbing on about my shifting journey / experience, Different scenarios and fic's from my dr's, + what it's been like in different dr's !!
｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ˎˊ˗
i have many dr's including:
.☁︎ Monster prom / camp (ft. Billzo & Ranboo)
.☁︎ West side story
.☁︎ Streamer dr (Karl edition)
.☁︎ Streamer dr (Tommy edition)
.☁︎ Streamer / vlogger dr
.☁︎ youtuber dr
.☁︎ EmpireSMP
.☁︎ DreamSMP
.☁︎ PASWAG (in no way do i support the creator it's a hyperfixation)
.☁︎ The Umbrella Academy
.☁︎ Fame
.☁︎ Stranger things
.☁︎ Percy jackson
.☁︎ Haikyuu
.☁︎ That 90's show
.☁︎ Sally Face
.☁︎ Voltron
.☁︎ That 70's show
.☁︎ One piece
.☁︎ Lockwood & Co
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎
MASTERLIST
If you ever wanna know anything about my dr's or have any questions i'll gladly tell! (if appropriate)
summary: after your breakup with your lackluster boyfriend you realize you actually wanted someone to be telling you what to do rather than the reverse in a relationship
warnings: kinda a dom and sub relationship BUT BUT its more like a Lee and Mr grey thing than whatever the hell was going on in 50 shades, will say there is no sex but it is about control and stuff, I made up a guy named Andrew for you to date he is nothing, eleven is called Jane bc she's Jane to me, background byler ig, max and lucas are together max has lucas on a short leash, I wrote Jane as kind of a weird girl I was hoping to channel a different version of like Juno kind of weird but lemme know if it comes off as just a sicko, Dustin and Steve are bffs, Dustin tells you what to wear and what to eat a couple times but it's chill don't worry, Dustin thighs, Dustin has wandering hands but it's not like he's groping your ass it's like he's sticking his hand under the collar of your shirt to touch your shoulder, you're going to be okay I promise I'll hold your hand and we'll get through this together
When Andrew moved into town, the Party wasn’t exactly excited. He wasn’t special; he was really just a guy. He wasn’t even a nerd. He wasn’t a bully. He wasn’t even really memorable, but he showed interest in you. Somehow, you landed a date with him, and one thing after another, his name became known in the Party.
They all had very little to say about him. Mike and Will could not be fucked to care less. You could actually shoot Andrew dead in front of them, and they would still be gazing longingly into each other’s eyes. Jane and Max were the only ones who ever sat and listened to you talk through the dates you went on. Lucas was astonishingly neutral on him, constantly forgetting who Andrew even was. Dustin, however, had a look on his face every time his name was brought up. He never said anything bad about Andrew, but his face was always tattling on him. His nose always scrunched up in disgust, and anytime you mentioned what Andrew thought about something, Dustin was rolling his eyes.
You once brought up Andrew’s favorite flavor of ice cream while sitting with the Party halfway through a sleepover and an ice cream tub. Dustin scoffed so loudly that every head turned towards him. You wanted to apologize, but you didn’t do anything wrong, so Andrew’s name stopped coming up around the party. Except, of course, in front of Jane and Max.
Your relationship with Andrew came to a close. It wasn’t messy, but he still side-eyed you when you walked by. Jane and Max were supportive, talking with you to help you through every complicated emotion you found yourself in the depths of. There wasn’t an announcement to the Party. Yet, they all seemed to catch on. Lucas obviously knew, once Max saw him again. He likely had to be reminded who Andrew was, but the information was passed onto him anyway. Mike learned through Will, who learned through Jane. That meant the Party was informed: you were single yet again.
Weeks later, you were sitting in Mike’s basement, your back pressed against the couch. Your legs were stretched out under the coffee table, your foot digging into Dustin’s thigh.
You had lifted your head when he sat so close to you, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t seem to notice at all. Your head dropped against the couch cushion, closing your eyes.
Jane was in the bathroom. Will had called Jonathan and told him he needed a ride to get snacks for the impending sleepover. The day had started as a regular meeting, but when the clock hit 11 pm, and Mike’s parents were already asleep, he convinced you all to just stay the night in the basement. Mike was quick to hop into the backseat with Will. Lucas slid in next to him, muttering about how Will never picked the right food. Max offered up her snack knowledge, pulling herself into the passenger seat.
Dustin stared blankly at the T.V. You were shocked he didn’t fight for a seat in the snack car. The couple on screen was leaning in, a kiss building between the two of them. You turned your head, staring at the two of them. Your cheek squished against the material of the couch. Dustin moved in the corner of your eye.
“How’s Andrew?” Dustin muttered, a small hint of hatred behind the words. You pushed your eyebrows together, lifting your head. You stared at him.
“We broke up.” You said, with clear confusion on your face. Dustin’s eyebrows shot up, his lips parting.
“What? When did that happen?” Dustin asked. Your lips twitched at the sound of soft enjoyment that had replaced his hatred from before.
“Weeks ago, I thought you knew.” Dustin shook his head, trying to fight down a laugh.
“I didn’t. That’s okay.” Silence followed, your attention going back to the screen. The couple was on a carriage ride now. What on earth is this plot? Dustin sucked in a breath to steady himself.
“Was it…messy?” Dustin whispered, suddenly gentle. Maybe he finally realized how rude he was being before. Maybe he realized that you could be horrifically caught up in the whole ordeal. Maybe he realized that your heart could be shattered into a million pieces, and he was laughing about it. You lifted your hips, readjusting your position on the ground.
“No. I broke it off. It was moderately gentle.” You explained, letting out a sigh. Dustin hummed.
“Well, what happened? Why did you break up?” Dustin pressed. You let out a small chuckle at the question. You had a list longer than all of Mike’s stories.
“I just- I realized I wanted other things than what he was giving me. I went into it thinking I wanted one thing, but by the end of it, I realized I wanted it the other way.” You answered, searching Dustin’s face. He furrowed his brows, giving you a deep look of confusion.
“Please be more vague.” Dustin quipped sarcastically. You rolled your eyes, a small smile pulling at your lips. You wanted to be mad at him for taking this serious conversation so lightly, but he made your worries feel lighter with his jokes. Even when they were stupid, like now, it made you think the world was brighter.
“I thought I wanted to be in control. I thought I wanted to tell him when to pick me up, where we were going, and what we were doing. I thought I wanted to be the one who made all the decisions and took care of him. But at some point, I got tired. I realized maybe I wanted different things. Maybe I wanted to be told what to do. I think I want someone to tell me what I’m supposed to be doing with my life.” You pressed your lips into a thin line and looked away from him, staring at the stupid couple on the T.V.
“You want someone to control you? That doesn’t really seem like you. You’re-” Dustin sputters, his words failing him. You clicked your tongue.
“No, it’s not really like that. I want someone to make decisions for me, with me in mind. It’s not like they’re demanding I do something; it’s more like they choose for me. Like when I get frozen in indecisiveness, they choose for me. Or they tell me to do something before I can think about it.'
'This one time, I was leaving the gym after one of those assemblies, and only one of the doors was open. The other one wasn’t blocked or anything, but it was closed. No one was opening it because they weren’t really thinking about it; they were on autopilot. The guy behind just said, ‘Open that door.’ He wasn’t being mean or even really rude. He was just telling me what to do. And I did, without even considering another option. And it felt really good. Not like I was getting off to this random guy behind me, but just- easy. Like I had the heavy weight off my back. I want my life to feel like that. I want to be free in someone’s control. As contrary as that sounds.” You finished, huffing and staring at Dustin’s face. He closed his parted mouth, the corners lifting. He nodded.
“I understand now. I hope you can feel that way with-” His head turned at the sound of Jane’s shoes stomping down the stairs. She stopped at the bottom and paused at you both.
“I stole one of Nancy’s scrunchies.” She stated like you were both cops. You nodded.
“What color is it?” You asked. Jane grinned, hopping over to show it to you. She pulled it from her pocket, sitting on the couch next to your head.
“Purple,” Jane answered, earning a smile from you. You poked it.
“It’s cute,” Dustin added.
The next day, Dustin sat across from Steve, organizing tapes. The station was quiet, right now anyway. Robin was running a handful of songs now, and Steve had just a few minutes for conversation with Dustin.
“Let’s say I have a friend who-” Dustin started.
“Hardly believable, but I can try.” Steve cut in, earning a glare. He sighed.
“Let’s say I have a friend who mentioned that they want someone to make choices for them. Like telling them to open a door before they think about it.” Dustin said. Steve nodded, dropping his chin onto his hand.
“Mkay. What’s the question?” Steve pushed, ignoring his duty of organizing tapes to discuss Dustin’s love life.
“Well, what if I want to fill that role? I just don’t want to be an asshole. How do I control them like that without just being an ass and telling them what to do?” Dustin felt his face warming as he kept talking. Steve hummed, staring at the wall as he thought. He squished his lips to one side, popping one shoulder up in a shrug.
“Fuck if I know. I can tell you how to kiss with tongue, but this is something else.” Steve said, sitting back from the table. Dustin glared at him, rolling his eyes. Steve let out a small snort and flung his hands up.
“Okay, well, maybe just try it out with small things. Like telling them to tie their shoe or something. See how they like it. You can work it up, I’m sure. If this is someone you want to stay friends with or…” Steve’s words wandered off. Dustin quickly shook his head.
“No. No- I want- I want it all. With them. I want to spend every day with them.” Dustin sputtered out, hating the messy way his sentence came out. Steve nodded.
“Then yeah. Start small. Be gentle but stern. Like they can hear your seriousness, but they know they can tell you to shut up at any time.” Steve said, Dustin, nodding along to every word.
Dustin started with a dice. It was small. It went flying off the table and landed closest to you. Dustin met your eyes over the table.
“Pick it up.” Dustin’s tone was hard, making your eye twitch. He caught it, an eyebrow raising. Your lips quirked at it, remembering the talk you had with him weeks ago. You quickly leaned over in your chair, pulling the dice from the floor and setting it back on the table. You both turned back towards the Party, only having incredulous looks staring back.
“Dude.” Will chided, glaring at Dustin. Dustin reeled back, holding his hands up.
“What!”
“Don’t talk to them like that.” Lucas chastised. Mike raised a squiggly eyebrow, sending Dustin a look. You rolled your eyes.
“It’s fine. Seriously.” You said, trying to send the argument to bed. Lucas raised his hand from the table, holding it out to you like he was pushing down your argument. Will shook his head.
“No, it’s not fine. He can’t talk to you like that.” Lucas countered. You pressed your lips into a thin line.
“Lucas, I’m okay with it. It’s not a big deal, seriously.” You said. Lucas and Will shared a look. It was almost like they were asking each other if they believed you. Lucas turned his head and looked at Max. She was grinning so wide you wanted to tell her to tone it down. You had already had a conversation with her about the whole ‘wanting other things’ in your relationship with Andrew. Max held up a limp thumbs-up to Lucas. Lucas slowly sat back in his chair, giving Dustin a look from the corner of his eye. Will followed his lead.
“The dice was a 15 by the way.” You said, making the table explode with reactions. Oos and aws brushed away the tense conversation. You looked back at Dustin, finding his eyes already on you. You gave him a tiny smile, hoping he caught your approval of his previous words. He wiped at his smile with his hand, looking at Mike down the table.
Just as you were winding down for bed, the phone on your nightstand rang. You flung for it, pressing the receiver to your ear. You let out a huff to catch your breath.
“Hello?”
“It’s me,” Dustin said on the other end. He was lucky you could recognize his voice. You sighed, dropping onto the edge of your bed.
“Hey, Dustin.” You muttered. He hummed.
“So tomorrow, I want you to wear that sweater I told you I liked on you.” He had the same tone as days before with the dice. You thought through your closet, trying to remember which one he was talking about.
“The blue one?” You asked.
“Uh huh.” A click sounded in your ear. Dustin hung up on you. You rolled your eyes, setting the phone down.
The next day, you walked into the small circle of your friends standing outside wearing the blue sweater. You slid into the conversation next to Dustin. He turned his head, eyes dropping to your sweater. He smiled, looking up to your face and meeting your eyes. You both shared a knowing look, and more than a thousand words passed. You broke away from the look, finding Lucas looking at you with furrowed brows. Max smacked his shoulder, pointing back at Jane to redirect his attention.
For the next week, he called you before bed to tell you what he wanted to see you in. Tuesday was the T-shirt you had with your favorite band on it. Wednesday was the flannel you stole from Jane. Who stole it from Will- who stole it from Jonathan. Thursday was the necklace he bought for you for Christmas over 4 years ago. Friday was the ring he let you borrow months ago that you never bothered to give back. Saturday, he wanted you in the black sweater that always seemed to fall off your shoulder. Saturday night, you expected another accessory. You spent the night reading your book, never leaving the side of your phone for too long. You flung your book across your bed when the phone rang, your hands immediately pulling it to your ear.
“Dustin?” You whispered.
“In the morning, you’re having two pancakes, one pad of butter and…” His voice tailed off, his tongue clicking as he thought. “And, exactly two grapes.” You hummed in approval.
“So, tell me about what you did today.” He finally finished. You wanted to fight the massive grin you were sporting. You settled back into your pillows and started to ramble on about what you filled your day with.
Eyebrows were raised at your two grapes, no more, no less. Yet you didn’t feel any shame about it. Mike had called another meeting in his basement the next day. It was a movie marathon whether they liked it or not. As the seats were filling, everyone seemed to make choices without even slightly thinking about it. You stood frozen by the coffee table. People were moving too quickly for you to catch up. You would sit next to Will, but Mike might strangle you if you took his spot. You would sit next to Jane, but she was already taking the armchair that was broken and dropped in the basement last year. You would sit next to Max, but she was halfway in Lucas’ lap. Dustin leaned over the arm of the couch, catching your attention.
“Sit on the floor next to me,” Dustin said, his tone stern again. You nodded, dropping onto the floor next to his legs. You pressed your back against the side of the couch, dropping your head back. Dustin’s hand found the side of your face, gently turning your head towards his thigh. You followed his lead. You scooted closer to him, tucking your arm under his leg. You dug your fingers into his pant leg, pressing your cheek against his thigh. Dustin’s hand gently landed on your cheek again, caressing the skin.
As the movie went on, his hand traveled. It went to the back of your neck, carelessly massaging it. It found your shoulder, slipping under the collar of your shirt and pressing against the bare skin. Then he traced the column of your neck with one finger, stopping at your clavicle. He dragged his finger up again, tilting your chin up. You stared up at him, your lips parting. His face was only half illuminated by the T.V. His eyes were bright even in the dim room. There was an unreadable thought behind his eyes that made your skin warm.
“Okay! Is anyone else seeing this?” Lucas almost shouted, startling you out of it. You looked over at him, the entire party’s eyes looking around for his reason.
“What?” Jane asked.
“I mean, what is this?” Lucas asked, pointing at you and Dustin. Will held up his hand, shielding his eyes.
“None of my damn business,” Will muttered, staring at the screen. Mike stared at Will, earning an eye roll from you. Jane shook her head, shrugging.
“Friendship,” Jane muttered, looking back at the movie.
“Don’t make me feel crazy,” Lucas muttered. Max rubbed his shoulder gently.
“It’s okay, we’ll get you a refill on your meds soon.” She whispered soothingly. Lucas snapped his head at her.
“I could kill someone right now,” Lucas whispered. You tilted your head back, resting against Dustin’s thigh again.
lmk if there's anything else you want to see or if you have concerns😰 I love comments or like wtv idk whatever you want ig
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The fact that “Dad Ben” is one of Ben’s primary personality characteristics is both sweet and sad. His mom is clearly stressed and busy after the divorce, so I have to imagine he’s gotten used to trying to fill in some of the “dad” roles in Esther’s life as her big brother. Plus it makes me think back on episode 2 where the water mill roof collapses and his instinct is to shield Abaddon despite knowing he’s an immortal demon.
OBSESSED with the asking for Amber and Jesse's blessing fic (literally better than anything I could have imagined I literally CRIED) and now I just can't stop thinking about them helping the reader plan. Like Amber sneakily has to figure out Gideon's ring size and help you pick out and plan things 😭😭 I will be dwelling on this for days tysm
-🐢
this one actually made me tear up a little at the end
“So, uh, what’s your favorite food?” Jesse asked one morning for no reason in particular, his tone way too casual to be actually casual, as Gideon stepped into the kitchen, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.
Gideon stopped short. “Ion know,” he mumbled, suspicious. “Why?”
Jesse leaned against the counter like a man who’d rehearsed the line. “A man can’t ask his son’s favorite foods?”
"You've literally never asked me that before in my life," Gideon deadpanned, reaching for a banana from the fruit bowl.
Jesse scoffed, pointing the butter knife in his hand like it proved something. “Well, I’m askin’ now, ain’t I?”
From across the kitchen island, Amber looked up from her tea, eyes narrowed. She rolled her eyes so hard she almost tipped over.
She should’ve known better than to trust Jesse to keep a secret, especially when he was the most obvious liar known to man. He’d looked like he was vibrating with excitement all morning, pacing around the kitchen like he had a surprise party under his tongue. When you asked them to help plan your proposal to Gideon, Amber had agreed with firm, hushed enthusiasm. Jesse, though? Jesse had been bouncing like a kid on Christmas morning ever since.
And now here he was, blowing it less than twelve hours later.
Amber stood up with a long sigh, crossing the kitchen and smoothing a hand over Gideon’s messy hair. “We’re just…” she began carefully, offering him a smile, “we think maybe we haven’t paid much attention to you in a while.”
Gideon looked between them slowly, still chewing. “Y’all good?”
“Of course,” Jesse said too quickly. “Just... thought maybe we could spend the day together. Like old times. Family stuff.”
Amber nodded. “Shopping, maybe. New shirt, new shoes. You know, take you out. Just the three of us.”
Jesse chimed back in with that all-too-eager grin. “Grab some lunch. Maybe ride the carousel like you used to when you were little. Could barely get you offa that thing, remember?”
Gideon gave him a long look, lips twitching like he was trying not to laugh or grimace. “…You remember that?”
“’Course I do!” Jesse puffed up. “You loved that carousel horse, the black one with the gold trim. Thought it was a real horse. Threw a tantrum when they made you get off.”
“Alright,” Gideon mumbled, scrunching up his nose like he was tasting something bitter, but the corner of his mouth curved up just slightly. “I guess.”
Gideon scrunched up his nose and looked at them both. “Y’all are bein’ weird.”
Amber blinked at him, wounded. “We’re not weird. We’re being loving. There’s a difference.”
Gideon let the silence hang for a second, eyes narrowed, clearly weighing the effort of fighting it versus just rolling with whatever weird energy they were giving off.
Finally, he sighed, grabbed a bottle of juice from the fridge, and muttered, “Alright.”
He left the room with his banana and juice in hand, clearly still suspicious, and Amber waited until he was out of earshot before turning on Jesse with a sharp whisper.
“You’re the worst liar I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“I panicked!” Jesse hissed. “I got excited! You try keepin’ that kinda secret with his dumb face lookin’ all happy and clueless-"
“Just keep your mouth shut!” she snapped. “If you ruin this for them, I swear to God, Jesse.”
“I won’t, I won’t, I promise!” Jesse grinned. “It’s gonna be perfect. I’m just helpin’ build the moment. Warm him up, you know?”
Amber groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “God help me.”
She paused just outside the bedroom door, shooting him a glare that could peel paint.
“And now we gotta take the little fucker shoppin’,” Jesse added under his breath with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “And I hate the mall.”
“Good,” Amber muttered. “Maybe the stress’ll shut your mouth for once.”
+++
"What about these?" Amber asked, holding up a pair of sneakers. "Last pair in your size."
Gideon shook his head. "Already have those in blue."
Amber gave a little scoff, flipping the shoes around like seeing them from a different angle would magically change his mind. “They’re red, Gideon.”
“I know,” he said, arms crossed as he leaned against the display wall. “I have them in blue. I don’t need a second pair.”
“You wear them every day. They’re gonna fall apart before the month’s over,” Amber muttered, already sliding the shoebox back onto the shelf with a little more force than necessary.
“Exactly,” Jesse chimed in from the other end of the aisle, holding up a hideous patterned button-down. “Which is why we’re here. That, and because we love you so much and have definitely not planned anything behind your back.”
Amber turned sharply, giving Jesse a look that made him visibly flinch and refocus on the shirt like it had personally wronged him.
Gideon raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Nothing,” Jesse said quickly. “Nothin’. Just grab somethin’, son. New shoes, new jeans, maybe a nice jacket. You got enough black shirts to run a Hot Topic pop-up.”
“I like black shirts,” Gideon muttered. "They go with everything."
“Yeah, well, I liked my full head of hair. Life moves on.” Jesse shot him a grin.
Amber sighed and gently took Gideon’s arm over to a rack of suits. “How about we find something we like and you try it on just to humor us, alright?”
The suit was simple. Navy, slim cut, pinned to hug Gideon’s shoulders and taper just right down his sides. He tugged at the cuffs once as he stepped out of the dressing room, eyeing himself in the mirror with faint suspicion.
Amber clasped her hands under her chin. “Oh, baby,” she breathed, grinning. “You look so grown.”
Jesse, from where he sat slouched on a padded bench, nodded once. “Damn. You actually clean up alright.”
Gideon rolled his eyes but didn’t hide the faint curl of a smile as he turned side to side. “It’s fine. A little stiff.”
Amber ignored the complaint. “We’re gettin’ it.”
“I didn’t say-”
“We’re gettin’ it,” she repeated, already plucking the jacket hem to examine the stitching.
Jesse stretched, yawning as he stood up. “Alright, alright, you look good. Let’s go find a belt or something.”
They began walking toward the front of the store, Gideon carrying the blazer draped over one arm. It was just casual enough, clean and subtle. He looked like himself, but slightly more grown.
They passed the jewelry display and Amber slowed.
“How about a little something extra?” she said lightly, pausing at the glass case. “Pick something out. On me.”
Gideon blinked. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. A bracelet? Chain? A ring, maybe?” She leaned over the case and tapped her fingers against the glass. “Something that feels like you.”
Jesse snorted. “What, like a mood ring?” He caught the warning glance Amber shot him and held up his hands. “Okay, okay."
Amber waited until Gideon wandered to a nearby table stacked with ties to lower her voice sharply. “I’m trying to figure out his ring size.”
Jesse stared at her. “Why?”
Amber hissed, “Because, someone’s gonna need that information real soon and I want him to try one on without thinkin’ it’s weird.”
Jesse's eyes widened slightly, then narrowed. “Is this about-”
“Shh!”
“I’m just sayin’, you better not ruin it,” she growled.
“I’m helping!”
They both turned suddenly as Gideon circled back, holding a navy knit tie. “What about this one?”
Amber blinked, shifting instantly back into casual mom mode. “Ooh, I love that. Very classy. Try it with the suit.”
Jesse, now biting back a grin, gave him a slow nod. “Yeah… very grown-up. Real man vibes. Maybe even husband vibes.”
Amber jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow before Gideon could look suspicious. He wandered closer, his eyes running over the display of rings.
"Try one on," she encouraged.
Gideon slipped one of the rings onto his finger, twisting it with a furrowed brow. It was too shiny, he decided. Felt weird and cold against his skin.
“You don’t like it?” Amber asked, tilting her head.
“It’s fine,” he said, sliding it off. “I just don’t really wear jewelry like this.”
“Try this one,” she said, already handing him another. Thinner band, brushed steel instead of polished. More understated. “That’s nice, huh?”
He shrugged, trying it on. “Better.”
Amber was already texting.
“I think he’s a 9 or 9.5. Thinner band looked best. Silver or platinum better than gold.”
Jesse peeked over her shoulder. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I like to be prepared,” she whispered.
They made their way to the food court after checking out. Amber carried the suit, Jesse snacked on a sample from some teriyaki place, and Gideon trailed just behind them, eyes darting curiously at everything.
It had been years since they dragged him through a mall like this. And back then, he was all gangly arms and flushed cheeks, slouching to hide his height as he begged to be left at home. Now he stood taller, the edges of his jaw clean and sharp, his voice deeper, and his posture more confident. Still their boy, but so clearly not a boy anymore.
Amber stopped suddenly at the Auntie Anne’s kiosk. The smell of butter and cinnamon hung heavy in the air.
Gideon stopped too, blinking. He looked... stunned.
“Y’all want somethin’?” Amber asked casually.
Gideon’s eyes were locked on the big soft pretzels spinning under heat lamps. “We never got food here,” he said, voice soft with disbelief. “I always wanted the hot dog ones.”
Amber’s chest tugged. Her hand immediately reached into her purse and pulled out a crumpled twenty, handing it to him. “Go on, baby. Get what you want.”
He blinked down at the bill, then up at her.
“No soda,” she teased instinctively, then caught herself. “Actually… get a damn soda too. Why not.”
Gideon snorted a laugh and went up to the counter, still weirdly quiet about it all, like the pretzel place was sacred ground.
Amber watched him with a small smile. She remembered so clearly the times she’d tugged him by the hand through this exact food court. How he'd eye that same pretzel stand, and she’d always say no, too much sugar, we’re almost home. Maybe a small pretzel if he behaved, but never the soda.
He’d always accept it. Quiet. Grateful for even that much.
Jesse glanced at her. She wasn’t blinking, her eyes just a little too glassy.
“You alright?” he asked gently.
She cleared her throat. “M’fine. Just… he’s big now.”
Jesse followed her gaze, watching Gideon tap his fingers on the counter while they boxed up his snack. “Yeah,” Jesse said. “That little boy who cried when we cut his crusts off is about to get engaged.”
Amber pressed a hand to her chest and looked up at the ceiling. “Don’t say it out loud. I’ll cry.”
“You already look like you’re gonna cry.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
They watched Gideon turn, grinning with a cinnamon-sugar pretzel in hand and a massive Coke. His smile was boyish, the kind of smile they hadn’t seen in years.
And both Jesse and Amber knew.
There he was. Their son. Grown, happy, and about to start a whole new life.
You have saved my life with these gideon fics so tysm for that
Do you think you write some dad!gideon smut where him and the reader finally get some alone time from their toddler?? I'm aching for more father figure content
of course pookie, i love dad!gideon :)
warnings: p-in-v sex, minors dni
“She’s down,” Gideon announced as he walked back into your bedroom and latched the door behind him.
For the past few weeks, Ruthie had developed a cunning little habit of finding any excuse to delay bedtime. First, she needed another sip of water, then a second story, then she’d suddenly remember she forgot to brush her teeth, even though she absolutely had with bubblegum toothpaste that she ate more than used to brush. You’d tried to stay firm. From the start, you laid down the law: once bedtime rolled around, she didn’t have to fall asleep right away, but she did have to stay in her room and respect the quiet of nighttime. She could play with her stuffed animals, look at her board books, even hum to herself, but the lights stayed off, and the grown-ups stayed out.
That worked for a little while. Then she started singing. At first, it was just soft nonsense: made-up words strung together, tuneless little ditties as she rocked back and forth with Bunny clutched to her chest. But soon, she discovered a more dramatic flair. Her favorite became a slow, sorrowful chant—“I’m sad, I’m so sad…”—delivered in the most pitiful voice her three-year-old lungs could manage. It was always the same five words, repeated like a mournful ballad, complete with deep sighs and the occasional sniffle for theatrical effect. You knew exactly what she was doing. It was a guilt trip in musical form, aimed squarely at Gideon’s soft heart.
And it worked like a charm.
Gideon would crumble by the third chorus. “She’s sad,” he’d whisper, as if you hadn’t just heard her croon it for the sixth time in a row. “She’s so sad.” Then he’d pace the hallway, torn between respecting your boundaries and rescuing his dramatic little daughter from her own performance. Eventually, he’d give in. “She just needs to burn off a little more energy,” he’d say, already halfway to her door.
He promised it would only be ten more minutes of play time. Those quick ten minutes would turn into an hour, then an overtired tantrum. Finally, she'd end up in your bed, half sprawled over Gideon's chest.
“Is she really or is she about to run in and put her shin on my throat again?” You asked, setting your book down on the nightstand.
Gideon shook his head. “I stood there for a few minutes to make sure. She’s definitely counting sheep.”
You watched him settle beside you, the soft creak of the mattress familiar now, comforting in its own way. He looked tired, but not just in the physical sense, more like the kind of fatigue that comes from carrying the emotional weight of parenthood all day. Still, even in the low light, he was beautiful. The slight stubble along his jaw, the way his shirt stretched across his chest, the curve of his mouth when he gave you that small, knowing smile. It all stirred something deep in your belly.
“You know,” you said, voice quieter now, more deliberate, “we don’t have much time.”
He opened one eye, lazily. “Until the little star philosopher rises again?”
You nodded. “Clock’s ticking.”
Gideon turned his body toward you, his hand finding your waist with an ease that spoke to muscle memory. Fingers grazing beneath the hem of your sleep shirt, warm and unhurried. “So what you’re saying is… we should make the most of it?”
“I’m saying I’m tired of waiting.” You leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “We’ve been careful.” You kissed him again. “Patient. Our little angel’s asleep.”
“You want more.” His voice was low, rougher now. His hand splayed over your hip, thumb tracing slow circles against your skin. “You’re not the only one.”
His hand slid further under your shirt, fingers mapping the curve of your back as you pressed into him, hungry and aching. He shifted over you easily.
You felt his breath hitch when your fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his pajama pants, grazing the heat of him. That familiar, pulsing want that had to be taken care of during early-morning showers. It was right here now, bold and honest in your hand.
“I think about you all the time,” he murmured against your jaw, his voice hoarse, reverent. “Even when I’m trying not to.”
You arched against him, your breath catching.
Gideon’s mouth found your neck, slow and deliberate, as if he were memorizing the shape of you with each kiss. His hand slipped higher beneath your shirt, grazing your ribs, fingertips tracing the undercurve of your breast but stopping just short, letting the anticipation build like a current between your skin and his breath.
You gasped softly when he finally touched you there, his palm warm, thumb brushing across your nipple in a lazy, teasing circle. Your body arched into him, craving more, the ache between your thighs no longer subtle but demanding. His name spilled from your lips in a whisper.
You tugged his shirt over his head, your palms gliding over his chest, feeling the shift of muscle beneath his skin. Clothes disappeared in slow pieces, each inch of newly revealed skin met with mouths and hands, rediscovery layered over familiarity. He slid his fingers between your thighs, and you gasped again, your back arching off the bed. He worked you open with careful attention, watching your face, adjusting with every sigh, every moan. He doesn’t bother with one, starting right away with two, curling them when you grind harder.
“You’re soaking my hand,” he practically whispered into the next kiss, adding a third finger after only a few thrusts. Your body accepts it willingly, always ready for him. “Jesus.”
You lifted your head in search of his lips again, which he willingly gave in to you, his fingers slowing to soothing strokes as you whimpered into his mouth. "Had to wait so long, baby."
"I know," he whispered back.
“Time. Please, Gideon. I need you inside me.”
He crawled up your body and crowded your space before you had a second to think. He pressed into you with a soft groan. “You’re amazin’, sweetheart. God, I love you.”
“Love you too,” you murmured into his jaw. “I’d love you more if you moved.”
He chuckled, his hips stuttering already. His lips attacked yours before he rested his forehead on yours. You wrapped your legs around him tighter, moving your hips to meet him closer.
“Fuck,” he whimpered.
You threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging. “Exactly. So why aren’t you moving?”
He nipped at your neck. “Because if I move, I will cum right away.”
“Who said I only want you to cum inside me once?”
His thrusts were slow at first, clearly trying to keep himself in control. You ran your hands through his hair, his body shuddering. One of his hands reached down to hook your leg higher. His thrusts get quicker, his rhythm in tandem with his fingers. You could feel the coiling pressure in your muscles. Your nails dig into his skin.
“I love you,” you breathed. “Gid, please keep going.”
“Trying to,” he murmured.
Your body tightened around him, your climax tearing through you sharp and sudden. Your back arched off the bed, fingers digging into his shoulders as your jaw fell open around a moan you couldn’t quite contain. He held your hips firmly, watching you fall apart beneath him with something between awe and desperation in his eyes. He thrust once, twice more and then he was right there with you, groaning as he emptied himself inside you, his body going rigid before melting into yours.
For a long, quiet moment, the only sound was the soft, ragged rhythm of your breathing.
Then, with care, Gideon pressed a final kiss to your collarbone and eased out of you. You flinched at the loss. He brushed your cheek, whispered a quiet, “Be right back,” and slipped out of bed.
You watched him move, bare and unhurried, disappearing down the hall. A few minutes later he returned, hair slightly damp from a quick rinse at the sink, a small warm cloth in one hand and sweats now slung low on his hips. He cleaned you up with gentle, murmured apologies, tossing the cloth into the hamper before crawling back into bed beside you.
His hand slid across your belly and pulled you close, his lips brushing the crown of your head. You could feel him smiling against your hair.
You sighed, letting the weight of the moment settle into your bones. “That was…”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice sleepy and content. “It really was. We still got it.”
You reached for your shirt from the floor, one hand lazily searching over the sheets for it. Just as your fingers found the soft fabric, the bedroom door creaked open.
Both of you froze.
“Mommy?”
You and Gideon both sat up instinctively, tugging the sheets up, limbs suddenly very awake.
Ruthie stood in the doorway in her pajamas, hair sticking up in every direction, holding her favorite stuffed frog upside down by the foot. Her eyes were squinty and puffy with sleep, her lower lip jutting out.
“I had a a bad dream,” she mumbled.
Gideon was already sitting up straighter, sheets falling low on his hips. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you back to bed.” He was already halfway to standing when Ruthie’s eyes drifted past him, finding you still curled under the blanket.
“I want Mommy.”
You froze.
Gideon hesitated too, glancing back at you. You were entirely bare beneath the covers, his shirt just out of reach where it had been flung during your earlier scramble. Your underwear was nowhere near the bed. A slight beat of panic fluttered in your chest.
Ruthie blinked up at you both from the edge of the bed, her frog clutched to her chest like it might protect her from monsters. You and Gideon exchanged a silent look, both of you trying to keep straight faces even as the sudden whiplash from sex to parenthood left your nerves slightly fried.
"Are you sure?" You asked. "You know your daddy's better at getting the nightmares to go away."
Ruthie thought about it for a moment. "Okay."
Gideon swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, raking a hand through his hair. “Alright, sweetheart,” he murmured gently, reaching down to scoop Ruthie into his arms. She let her head rest on his shoulder without protest, already halfway back to sleep.
He turned to you and offered a rueful little smile. “I’ll be back to finish talking to you,” he said, voice teasingly innocent.
You rolled your eyes and flopped backward onto the pillows. “Uh-huh. Can’t wait for our deep conversation.”
“Very deep. Possibly earth-shattering.”
You snorted into the comforter as he carried her out.
Down the hall, you could just barely hear her soft voice murmuring something about “bad dreams.” A beat later, Gideon’s voice followed, quieter now, patient and warm.
“Alright, want me to say a prayer for you?”
A sleepy “mmhmm” floated through the quiet house.
You pictured him kneeling beside her bed, one hand smoothing her wild curls, the other resting over her tiny hand. You couldn’t quite make out the words, but you knew his tone, the gentle cadence he used only with her. It wasn’t dramatic, just simple and sweet. Something like please help the moon feel happy again, and keep the bad dreams away. Amen.
It took a while, longer than you expected. But eventually, you heard the floor creak with his return. The door cracked open, and his silhouette slipped in.
You were still in bed, covers pulled up, your body cooling slightly from earlier, but the flicker in your chest when you saw him again made heat bloom all over again. He closed the door quietly behind him.
“Did you forget something?” you asked dryly.
He turned toward you. “No, I put the water bottle on her nightstand already.” He turned the light off. "And that."
“The lock, genius.”
There was a pause. “Oh.” Then, “oh.”
A beat of silence followed. You could hear him retracing his steps. The soft click of the lock sliding into place echoed louder than anything else in the room.
You smiled in the dark, satisfied. “That’s better.”
The bed dipped a moment later beneath his weight, his warmth returning to your side like gravity. You didn’t need to see him to feel the grin on his face as he slid closer, one arm curling around your waist beneath the sheets.
“Now,” you whispered, as his lips found your shoulder again, “where were we?”
His hand slid slowly down your thigh, and his breath was hot at your ear. “Finishing that conversation.”
Girl you are single-handedly fueling my Gideon obsession!! Keep it up, I love your writing and how authentic to him it feels!!
I was thinking maybe an established relationship between Gideon and a singer!reader. Headcanons or a little fic, you choose. I just think it would be so cute if he comes across her singing for the youth group, and he’s all enamored by it, but Kelvin and Keefe give him shit for it 💀
As Gideons first real relationship wouldn’t be easy just because his family would never let him hear the end of it, especially if they met at the church.
So I see it playing out like this:
Gideon’s making his way up in the church ranks. He moves from Wednesday mornings to also preaching on Wednesday nights. He fills in for youth group occasionally. Sometimes when Jesse’s feeling under the weather and Kelvin takes point on Sundays, he supports him and his aunt on stage.
He hears her before he sees her. He’s around the corner and the choir just finished rehearsing so he’s free to take the practice room to work on his projection. She’s in there packing up her bag, singing a song to herself. He rounds the corner and they make eye contact. She’d probably give him a tight, almost awkward smile and say something like “the mics were being touchy today, be careful,” and all he can do is let out a little whimper.
The next time they meet it’s in the hallway right before Sunday service. He’s trying to deliver a new tie to his dad before the service when he sees her with a group of the youth choir, running through warmups with them. She’s gives them a little pep talk, telling them they’re not going to mess up because they practice all week.
Kelvin spots this immediately, and with Keefe by his side, he thinks he has the whole relationship thing on lock. He’d say something like he knows that look in Gideons eye, the longing stare as she sends each kid out with a pat on the back and a wink of good luck before taking her place in front of them to conduct. Red faced and embarrassed, Gideon would rush back to sit with his mom and brothers, praying the blue lighting is enough to hide the blush on his cheeks.
Even after Gideon gains the courage to take her out for coffee and then dinner, Kelvin’s always the first to ask how it’s going between them. Keefe’s the one who lets the cat out of the bag in front of Jesse and Amber. Gideon gets a string of questions worthy of being on a network crime show.
When things get more serious, Gideon’s a yearner. He brings her pastries before service. They meet up in one of their cars to share a quiet moment before they split up for the day. He learns the tips and tricks of taking care of her voice, learning her favorite teas and always keeps a box of Throat Coat and honey in his office. He reminds her to avoid dairy and sugars. Knowing she hates when people listen to her do her warmups, he stands guard outside the door just for her peace of mind.
When they double date with Kelvin and Keefe, one of them always says, “man, were we like that?” And the answer is almost always yes.
i'm literally in love with your writing omg. I'm begging for anything jack Kelly x reader. PLEASE
love
jerjordan!jack kelly x female!reader
note; hi! i’m back from the dead! my life has been absolutely haywire and i sincerely apologize for the lack of writing but i’m back babyyyy
“can youse hold still?”
“i’m trying.”
“youse is squirmin’.”
she simply stuck out her tongue in reply. “alright smartass, be nice now.” he hummed, obviously teasing as he continued to drag his brush across the canvas.
he wasn’t ever really one to paint portraits, he was a landscape fella. a bunch of trees was his specialty. which is why he could not fuck this one up, especially not when he was trying to paint her, his girl, his angel, his reason for living.
she had to be perfect.
he let his gaze wander from the painting, emerald eyes sweeping over her. hell, she was gorgeous. heavenly. and he loved her more than life itself.
“christ almighty…” he murmured, dipping his brush into a bit more of that shade that match her soft gaze.
“you alright, love?”
“aye, don’t be doin’ all that.” he murmured, cheeks flushing.
“doing what?”
“that.. y’know.” the singular word echoed through his mind, the blush creeping up his neck.
“love?”
“shushhh.” he dragged out the word dramatically, the tips of his ears pink. she couldn’t help but giggle, “jack kelly, are you blushing?”
“i ain’t!”
“you is!”
“c’mon princess, you’re squirmin’ again-“
“sorrryyy.”
he could hardly keep the smile from his face. he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this happy. it wasn’t even simply feeling content, he was truly happy.
sure life was shitty still, but, he wouldn’t have it any other way. he had his boys, his paints, and his dream. his girl. his santa fe.
[said very pleasantly] i see you have mischaracterised my blorbo. that's okay. that's fine. everyone interprets things differently. i'm exploding you in my mind with the power of 9754685 suns btw
