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stevie-petey · 30 days

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episode three: the case of the missing lifeguard

You glance at your door, worried your mom has heard Steve’s pathetic fall, while he clutches at his knee and groans. Through gasps of pain, he manages to respond, “Give me a second to recover my pride, Y/N.” “We need more than just a second to recover your pride.” You crawl out of bed and offer the boy your hand. “Get up, dummy.” He accepts the help and stands, brushing himself off. “Your bed is freakishly high.” “Have you ever considered that you’re just clumsy?” “I’m an athlete, angel.”

Summary: dustin blackmails you for $5 and then dubs steve as boyfriend material for you, robin cracks yet another russian code, you all almost waterboard yourselves after sneaking onto the mall's roof, you have a sexy nervous breakdown, and jonathan takes you for a drive in his sick car

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, use of y/n, fem!reader

Words: 7k

Before you swing in: hi my loves !! had a hectic final week of classes but im finally done !! (technically i have one more final but thats a later issue). this chapter is a lot of banter and chaos and theres some sad feelings towards the end that im a bit frightened to see the reactions to so ,,,, enjoy !

When your alarm goes off for work, Steve accidentally kicks you off of your bed in his panic.

“Fuck!”

Your brain barely has time to process that you’re awake as you begin to fall. “What–”

Steve manages to catch you from face planting just in time, flinging you back onto the bed as he struggles to untangle himself from the blankets. “Fuck! Sorry!”

“What’s going on?” you rub your eyes and realize that the screeching sound next to you is your alarm. Slamming your hand against it, the cloud of sleep starts to lift from your brain and you realize why Steve is a storm of chaos right now. “Oh, fuck.”

The two of you accidentally fell asleep together last night.

He never went home, he never snuck back out your window with a kiss farewell.

Now, as you take in the situation you’re currently in, you can hear your mother making breakfast in the kitchen, blissfully unaware that there’s a boy in her daughter’s room.

“Yeah, fuck!” Steve shakes at his leg, which is somehow twisted within your bedding and prevents him from escaping. “Get me out!”

“Shit!” You quickly untwist the bedding and free him, but as he rolls off your bed, he misjudges the height and fails to catch himself. He lands with a horrifyingly loud thud, and you throw a pillow at him. “Will you shut up?”

“We need more than just a second to recover your pride.” You crawl out of bed and offer the boy your hand. “Get up, dummy.”

He accepts the help and stands, brushing himself off. “Your bed is freakishly high.”

“Have you ever considered that you’re just clumsy?”

“I’m an athlete, angel.”

You place your hands on his chest and gently shove him towards your window. “Well, if you’re such an athlete, then it should be no problem for you to hop through this window and get to work, Harrington.”

“At least pretend you’re sad to see me leave–”

Someone knocks on your door. “Y/N? You awake yet?”

Hearing Dustin’s voice, you and Steve exchange a horrified look before you’re shoving even harder at his chest to get him out of your room. “Go!”

Steve stumbles over his feet and makes as much sound as humanly possible. He knocks into your desk and sends a stack of comics falling and he almost slips on them, only narrowly catching himself. Frustrated and bewildered that he keeps falling, he exclaims, “Why does this keep happening?”

The knocking on your door stops. A beat of silence passes before Dustin hesitantly calls through the door, “... did I just hear Steve?”

“No!” You almost throw Steve out your window with the force you shove him, which he curses at and gives you a dirty look, though you ignore him. He’s the one who got you into this fantastically horrible mess in the first place. “I–uh. I stubbed my toe!”

You anxiously wait for Dustin’s response, mentally running through all possible explanations in your head, but after a few minutes pass and you don’t hear anything; you exhale with relief. Seemingly sensing that you’re in the clear, Steve breathes out as well. “That was close.”

“Ew!” Your brother’s screech could rival the Demodogs with how loud and terrifying it is.

Gulping, Steve looks at you and laughs nervously. “Whoops?”

You glare at him. “Get out.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He kisses your forehead and does as he’s told, crawling through your window. Thankfully he lands gracefully this time, and as he begins running towards his car parked down the street, he calls over his shoulder, “See you after your shift!”

Despite your annoyance, you can’t help but laugh as you watch him run away. It’s reminiscent of the boyish charm you saw a few years ago, back when you had almost hit his car with your bike and he had pretended not to know your name in order to get you to laugh.

Your reminiscing is cut short by Dustin’s obnoxious groaning. “Oh, god. Why did it get quiet in there? Get off my sister!”

You march over towards your door and fling it open. Your brother stands there, a horrified look on his face, and you glance behind him to make sure your mom is still in the kitchen. When the coast is clear, you sneer at him, “Nothing happened!”

“I’m fourteen, not an idiot.”

“We didn’t do anything.” When Dustin snorts at you, disbelieving, you want to strangle the kid. You’re mortified and cannot fucking believe that your little brother thinks anything else happened between you and Steve. “I swear.”

“See, I’d believe you, but mom…” He shrugs with a smug look on his horrid face. “I don’t know, Y/N.”

You drop your head and sigh, knowing where this is going. “How much money do you want?”

“$5, please. I prefer exact change, too.” He extends his arm out and opens his hand, silently demanding the money.

“You’re horrible, you know that?” You go into your dresser and pull out a five dollar bill before handing it to him.

Clutching the cash, Dustin smirks. “You raised me well.”

“Get out of my room.”

Hearing the anger in your voice, your brother knows he has about five more seconds before you start throwing things at him. “Yes, ma’am.”

–

Work is slow, as usual, and when it’s time to pick up Alex from the pool, you wish Mrs. Waters a good day and get into your mom’s car that you borrowed today. With fewer shifts at the bookshop, Alex has started working at the pool to make extra money; on days when he’s there before a shift at Bookstrordinary, it’s your job to drive him to work.

It’s pouring as you drive to the pool, setting an eerie tone on the first day of July. The summer’s heat causes the thunder to shake your car, and your knuckles are white from how tightly you hold onto the steering wheel.

When you pull up and see Alex hunched over and drenched from the rain, you laugh at him. “Well, looks like someone’s shift ended at the right time,” you say as he quickly jumps into your car.

Alex doesn’t return your good mood. “Not funny, Y/N.”

Sensing that there’s something more to his foul mood than just being rained on, you look over at him in concern as you begin to drive. “Is everything alright over there?”

“Billy and Heather never showed up for work, so we were short handed fending off dumb kids who wanted to swim with lightning.” Alex wrings out his t-shirt and shakes his hair to dispel excess water, and you cringe as some of the water droplets land on you. “Telling a bunch of scary twelve year olds that they can’t swim… I thought I would die.”

The genuine terror in his voice is amusing, though his words unnerve you. It’s not like Billy to just not show up for work. He’s a lot of things, mainly a dickhead, but the few times you’ve driven the party to the pool, he’s always been there working; he’s dedicated to discipline. Hell, you’ve been to Max’s house, you know her family isn’t the wealthiest.

Billy can’t afford to skip work.

“They just… never showed up?”

“Nope,” Alex curls into him in a feeble attempt to warm himself up. “We all think they ditched to hookup.”

You think about how rough Billy had looked yesterday, with fresh blood still dripping from him and the feverish chills he seemed to have. Something hadn’t been right, and a knot forms in your stomach. You highly doubt he had ditched work to go hookup with Heather, not if he’s still in the state that he was in yesterday.

Regardless of what he’s done to you, you hope he’s okay.

Something about this feels wrong.

“Yeah, probably.” Your voice is weak as you respond to your coworker, but he doesn’t seem to pick up on your now solemn mood.

The rest of the car ride is spent with Alex gossiping about where Billy and Heather could be, so it’s a relief when you finally arrive at Bookstrordinary and he leaves your car. You sit in the parking lot for a few minutes, your stomach twists and the knots multiply. The rain patters softly against the windshield in an almost rhythmic pattern as you try to calm yourself down with deep breaths.

The only sound in the car is your own breathing accompanied by the raindrops.

–

It’s Dustin’s idea to spend the day looking for evil Russians.

Steve isn’t sure where he got the binoculars, but at this point he’s learned that it’s best to not question the kid. Makes things easier.

Which leads to now: the two of them hunched behind fake plants at Starcourt sharing binoculars as they look for people who could fit the “evil Russian” description, all while ignoring the fact that Dustin caught Steve in your room.

“I don’t know what an evil Russian looks like.” Steve is holding the binoculars up to his eyes as he scans the food court area. He has no clue what he’s looking for and he swears that Dustin is purposely staring him down to try and get him to confess about this morning.

“Tall, blond, not smiling.” The kid responds, knowing that Steve is trying to distract him with stupid questions. He’s squirming under Dustin’s gaze, which he gets a sick joy out of. Between the $5 you coughed up and Steve’s obvious distress, it’s a pretty good day for Dustin Henderson. “Anyways, look for earpieces, camo, duffel bags, that sort of thing.”

Steve continues to look through the binoculars, relieved that Dustin seems to be playing along and hasn’t hounded him about this morning. “Right, okay. Duffle bags.”

As Steve busies himself with the search, Dustin waits a few seconds to lull him into a false sense of security. He’s been waiting all day to do this. Clearing his throat, he prepares for the attack. “Hey, uh, Steve?”

“Yeah, little Henderson?”

“While you look for evil Russians, keep an eye out for idiots who traumatize their friends by sleeping with their sisters.”

Steve yanks the binoculars away from his face as if they’ve burned him. His eyes are wide and panicked as he turns to Dustin with a horrified look on his face. “That is not what happened!”

“Tell that to the traumatized kid.” The younger teen waves a hand over himself to emphasize his point. “You owe me like, at least five years of therapy.”

“I didn’t sleep with Y/N, dude! That’s–that’s gross–”

“Are you calling my sister gross?” Dustin crosses his arms now, daring Steve to go on.

He groans and rubs his face. “That’s not what I meant, alright? I just… She’s your sister and–and we aren’t even together–”

“That’s a good point, actually.” Dustin snatches the binoculars out of Steve’s hand and starts to look for any signs of Russians. “Why aren’t you with my sister?”

Steve stares at him, dumbfounded. “You’re sending totally mixed signals, dude. Do you want me dating Y/N or not?”

“It’s not preferable, especially when I catch you sneaking out of her window like some skeezy douchebag–”

“How many times do I have to tell you nothing happened–”

“But, besides that,” Dustin shrugs, narrowing his eyes when he sees a possible blond teen who could fit the evil Russian description. “You’re not so bad, even though you’re a massive tool for not asking out the perfect girl right in front of you.”

Steve rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, entirely over this conversation. “You sound like Robin.”

The blond teen Dustin had been eying sits down and starts eating a hot dog, so he concludes that he isn’t Russian if he has an affinity for American food. “And Robin would be correct. Just ask Y/N out, she’s been waiting for like, at least a year now.”

“It’s not that easy.” Steve slumps over and bangs his head against the plant display they’re leaning against. “I have no idea how to ask her to be my girlfriend.”

“What, do you need my blessing or some shit?” Dustin removes the binoculars from his face and looks at the older teen, making sure to catch his eye. Then, in a horrible British accent, he says, “I give thy my blessing.”

“Thanks, buddy.” Steve deadpans, shoving the kid’s face away from his, uncomfortable with the eye contact. “But your blessing isn’t the problem. Y/N is just–she’s different and has been through a fuck ton of shit that I can’t even comprehend, and I’m just supposed to believe she wants to be with me?”

“Yeah?” Dustin cocks his head at Steve, not all understanding why he’s so confused about this. “You literally slept in her bed last night, man.”

Steve releases a quick breath and scratches his nose. He feels like an idiot and just really wishes you were here right now. “I… Well, yeah. Then there’s that.”

“It astounds me that you were once known as King Steve with a million girls drooling over him.” Dustin mumbles, baffled by the other’s patheticness, before going back to looking for Russians.

“Let’s remember that it was my advice that got you that girlfriend of yours, alright? Girls love me, that’s never been the issue, ” Steve flicks the kid’s nose, a habit he’s picked up from you. “So cool it with the arrogance, dipshit.”

“Steve, do I need to remind you that it’s not okay to call my brother a dipshit?”

Your sudden appearance causes Steve to clutch his chest and scream. He spins around and gasps, terrified of how much you may have heard from his conversation with Dustin. “Y/N! Y-you’re here!”

“I am…” You frown, unsure why he looks so scared; normally he’s excited when you surprise him at work.

“Uh,” Steve clears his throat and straightens his shirt out, trying to come off as collected rather than five seconds away from losing his shit. “I, uh. How much did you hear, ya know. Standing there?”

“Not much…?” Truthfully you’d been lost in thought, still worrying about Billy as you had approached the two teens hiding behind the fake plants. “All I heard was you calling my brother a dipshit.”

Steve deflates, and his reaction only confuses you further. Clearing his throat once more, he nods. “Oh. Yeah.”

You look over at Dustin, hoping for some type of clue as to what the fuck is wrong with Steve right now. “Did I miss something?”

“He was giving me horrible dating advice. Can we get back to looking for evil Russians?”

“Dating advice, huh?” You raise your eyebrows at Steve, who blushes furiously, and you giggle at his misery before turning back to Dustin. You eye the binoculars in his hand and point a finger at them. “And you can’t seriously think you’ll find evil Russians this way, right?”

“You got any better ideas, Y/N?” Your brother snarks as he brings the binoculars back up to his eyes.

You nudge him with your shoulder. “No, but I’m positive I can think of something less childish than whatever this is.”

“Just help us look for someone tall and blond with duffel bags.” Steve sighs.

“Oh, because duffel bags are so scary and Russian.” You roll your eyes at the boys, ashamed of their antics. Their logic is flawed and biased with so many gaping holes, it’s almost comical, but it’s enough to distract you from your anxiety from earlier. “Guys, why can’t we just go back to Scoops and figure out another way–”

“Target acquired.” Dustin suddenly interrupts you.

You share a look with Steve, who leans closer to the kid. “Where?”

“Ten o’clock. Sam Goody’s.”

Steve snatches the binoculars from Dustin’s hands and takes a look for himself, which you scoff at. They’re being ridiculous right now. However, when the older teen exhales in disbelief and announces the person has a duffel bag, your curiosity gets the better of you.

“Hand it over, pretty boy.” Before he can argue, you’ve snatched the binoculars from Steve and bring them up to your own eyes. It takes a few moments for you to find what the boys had been looking at, but when you finally spot the tall, blond man dressed in all black with sunglasses and a duffel bag, you can’t help but admit that he looks suspicious. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Steve and Dustin turn to each other and say in unison. “Evil Russian.”

The three of you chase after the guy, weaving between the crowd of people at the mall as you trail him. You and Dustin side step a woman with her kid as Steve speeds ahead of you guys. Struggling to keep up, your brother berates Steve to slow down.

“We’re losin’ him.” He responds, only speeding up even more.

“You’re getting too close.” Dustin warns, and you almost trip over your shoelaces in your haste. He’s right, Steve is getting too close to the guy, and it’s making you nervous.

You quicken your footsteps and tug at his uniform. “Steve, we need to be careful–”

Suddenly the Russian looking guy stops in his tracks and slowly begins to turn around. You all scramble and try to appear casual; Dustin runs to the phone and pretends to make a call while Steve pulls you to the corner and places his hands on your waist to pull you close.

“Pretend we’re a couple!” He whispers, throwing your hands over his shoulders.

“This is wholly unnecessary,” you mumble, face burning at the close proximity. His fingers burn your sides, it’s been too long since he’s held you like this.

Steve chuckles at you and pulls you in closer, enjoying the moment far more than you think is needed. “Gotta admit, this is pretty romantic.”

You roll your eyes. “Totally. Super hot hunting down evil Russian spies with you, Steve.”

“Stop sucking face, the guy is getting away!” Dustin yanks at you and tears you from Steve’s grasp, disturbed and annoyed that it only took three seconds before you distracted the teen.

Soon you’re all following the blond guy again, and when he starts to slow down, the three of you hide behind a column and poke your heads out. Watching, you see the guy enter into the Jazzercise studio and pull a speaker from his duffel bag.

“Oh, this is much better than him being a Russian spy.” You snort, entirely amused by how this has all unfolded. The guy unzips his hoodie and reveals an incredibly muscular physique, and you can’t help but bite your lip. “His arms… Oh my.”

Steve sees you eyeing the guy and scrowls. “His arms aren’t that nice. “ He starts pulling you away now, sending death glares at the now confirmed zumba instructor, obviously jealous. You laugh, knowing your comment would annoy him.

“I don’t know, honey. His arms were huge.”

“Please,” Steve rolls his eyes, unamused. “They looked like twigs to me.”

“You and I both know you’re lying.”

Steve groans and kisses your hand as he tugs you towards Scoops Ahoy. “You’re killing me here, angel.”

“It’s what I do best.”

While you and Steve argue, Dustin gags at you both and sighs in disappointment. He listens to you two argue the whole way back to the ice cream shop, and he’s never wanted to bang his head against a wall more. Here Steve is, claiming he can’t ask you out, yet he’s pathetically moping about you finding some random guy’s arms hot.

Dustin thinks the poor guy is doomed.

When you arrive at Scoops, you break away from Steve’s whining and greet Robin. “Dude, you won’t believe the hot zumba instructor we followed–”

The girl rushes past you, not at all acknowledging your presence, as she exits the shop. You stop walking and share a confused look with Dustin and Steve as you all watch Robin run outside and jump on top of one of the benches.

“What the hell?” You follow after her, concerned by her franticness.

Robin is mumbling under her breath when you catch up, repeating the first sentence of the Russian code you deciphered over and over again as she spins and looks around the mall. “A trip to China sounds nice.”

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“A trip to China…” She ignores you as her eyes scan around the area once more. She looks as if she’s searching for something, repeating the phrase to herself.

You look around as well, not fully understanding what she’s doing, but it’s clear she’s at least looking for something to match the sentence. In the center of the food court, all you see are chain restaurants and vendors. Frustrated, you sigh. “Robin, I’m not sure what we’re looking for.”

“There!” She points at a restaurant called the Imperial Panda. “A trip to China!”

Bits of the code start to piece together in your head. If the message corresponds to stores in the mall… Unsure if you’re understanding Robin correctly, you hesitantly point towards the local shoe store up above. “If you tread lightly?”

“Yes! God, I knew you were the smart one in that weird trio!” Robin nods eagerly and tries to recall the rest. “When–when blue and yellow meet in the west. What could that mean?”

You both spin around, trying to find anything that could align with the line. As you’re studying a poster sign, Robin snaps her fingers and nods her head towards the giant clock that hangs below a bay window. Its hands are blue and yellow. “Think this could be it?”

“Robin Buckley, you’re a genius!” You throw your arms around her, in disbelief that she was able to figure the bizarre Russian code out all on her own.

Robin is stiff in your arms for a moment, having not expected the praise, before she slowly melts into the embrace. She coughs slightly, her voice a pitch higher than usual. “It was easy enough to figure out.”

“Robin, Y/N,” Steve and Dustin now join. “What are you two doing?”

“She cracked it!” You pull away from Robin but keep an arm thrown over her shoulder.

Steve frowns. “Cracked what?”

Robin gently shoves your arm off and jumps down the bench she had been on. Stepping towards the boys, she leans in close, a glint in her eye. “I cracked the code.”

–

“Is this even legal?” You shout over the thunder, shivering as the rain from the storm soaks through your clothes and into your bones as you sit with Steve and the others on the mall’s rooftop to spy on Russians.

You’re not at all sure how you ended up in this situation.

When Robin had cracked the code, you figured that the four of you would ask the other mall employees about their delivery shifts. Maybe hide out in Steve’s car and watch for deliveries during the day, eliminate other variables.

What you didn’t think the four of you would do, however, is sneak onto the roof of the mall in the pouring rain for an impromptu stakeout.

Thunder rumbles above you as lightning strikes, causing you to jump further into Steve’s side. He wraps an arm around you and rubs soothing circles to try and comfort you, knowing that this entire situation is your nightmare.

Seeing your fear, Robin tries to reassure you. “We’re fine, Y/N.” Then she turns to Dustin, who is holding his stupid binoculars up as he surveys the group of delivery men below you. “Look for Imperial Panda and Kaufman Shoes.”

Your brother takes a moment to look around before he spots something. “They’re with that whistling guy, ten o'clock.”

You look down and watch the guy cart a series of boxes into the shipment alleyway. “It’s just a bunch of boxes, guys.”

“Sure, but what do you think’s in there?” Steve questions, absentmindedly drawing you closer for warmth when he feels you shiver again. He loaned you his raincoat, but clearly it doesn’t seem to be helping much with how much he can feel you shiver. A twinge of guilt sears through him for putting you through this in the first place.

“Guns, bombs?” Dustin guesses.

Robin throws in her own suggestions. “Chemical weapons?”

“How about delicious noodles and sensible shoes? Why haven’t we considered those as options?” Your teeth are chattering now as more rain slams against you.

“Shut up, Y/N.” Dustin raises his binoculars up again. “Whatever it is, they’re armed to the teeth.”

“Armed?” You exclaim as more thunder clashes. Your switchblade warms in your pocket ominously; you didn’t sign up for men wielding fucking weapons.

“Great.” Steve wipes water out of his face, feeling just as overwhelmed and defeated as you. “That’s great.”

The metal doors in the alleyway start to open, and faintly you can see the outline of more boxes within the storage room, it looks almost like a vault, though it’s hard to tell. Next to you, Robin squints as well. “What’s in there?”

“It’s just more boxes.” Dustin has to raise his voice in order to be heard over the rain.

Steve reaches for the binoculars. “Let me beck it out.”

However, he only ends up in an intense game of tug-of-war with Dustin as they start to fight over the binoculars. They grapple over it, argue about who needs it more, before the rain causes the thing they’re fighting over to slip out of their hands and bang harshly against the guardrail.

The noise rings out through the night and catches the men’s attention from below. Gasping, you yank everyone down before they can see you. Instinctively your hand reaches for Steve’s while Robin reaches for your other hand. With your backs to the ground, the four of you pant as the adrenaline of almost being caught courses through you.

Steve looks over at you to make sure you’re okay, and his eyes land on Robin’s fingers intertwined through yours. He frowns a bit, finding the physical affection from her odd, but sends her teasing wink.

When Robin sees his wink, she only clenches her jaw and turns away before releasing your hand.

–

“Well, I think we found your Russians.” Robin says as you all re-enter the mall.

“That was too close.” You mutter, wringing out your soaked t-shirt as your hair drips onto the floor. While the others seem to have already forgotten how the men with giant guns almost found you on the roof, you haven’t. It’s been on your mind the last ten minutes; it’s all you can fucking think about.

You’re in too deep again. You can feel it.

Dustin passes you and now walks in step with Robin. “What’s our plan now?”

“Well, strange child, I think it’s obvious that we gotta break into the vault.”

“I’m sorry?” You step in between them now, not at all liking what you’re hearing. “No one is breaking into anything. Do you have any idea how dangerous and stupid that is?”

“C’mon, Y/N, loosen up a little!” Dustin whines, wanting you to just be on his side for once.

“Loosen up? Guys, this is serious.” You look around at the others, lacing your voice with urgence. “We could be dealing with a national crisis, this isn’t just some stupid spy mission. We aren’t at all qualified to handle this.”

“I mean, aren’t we?” Steve hesitantly speaks up. When your angry eyes meet his, he flinches slightly. “Y/N, I know you’re scared, but–”

“I’m not scared.”

“We’ve been through… a lot,” his eyes flick over towards Robin, knowing she’s listening and that he can’t reveal too much. “All we’re doing is breaking into a vault. I mean, c’mon. We can do that, easily.”

Dustin nods eagerly at Steve’s words and Robin hums in approval. The three of them seem to almost form a unit against you, which makes you draw into yourself. Suddenly you feel like the odd man out, with no one on your side. Feeling panicked and defensive, your anger rises. “We shouldn’t have to break into anything! We can call Hopper, tell him what’s happening and at least have someone else on our side in case something happens.”

“Oh, like Hopper would believe us.” Dustin scoffs at you as if you’re some idiot, which doesn’t help the insecurity you feel.

“I know he’d listen to me.” You still regret having not called Hopper two years ago when you had found El in the woods. Had you told him about her sooner, about everything sooner, you know that you would’ve saved your brother and everyone else the heartache they endured because of you.

You can’t make the same mistake again. You refuse to.

Robin tries to appease you. “Look, we can just take a peek inside the vault, maybe dig through a box or two, then we can rat the Russians out to the cops! I promise, we won’t be doing anything dangerous.”

“We don’t know that.”

Your words ring throughout the empty hallway the four of you stand in. An echo follows them, as if taunting you of your fears and worries, and no one says anything else. You all stand there, frozen, with Robin, Steve, and Dustin facing you. As if there’s a line now dividing them from you.

Steve’s heart pounds in his chest as your eyes land on him, silently pleading with him to say something, anything. “Y/N…”

But he can’t. Even though he heard the rising anxiety in your voice, even though he knows the weight behind the words you’ve yelled, Steve can’t meet your eye.

He knows that you carry so much guilt within you, and he wishes he could offer you more. He’s torn between wanting to defend you and ease the fear that you’ve confessed to him before, how you feel this overwhelming need to protect the ones you love, but he also wants to follow through with the Russians. To see where it takes him, if he can redeem himself.

You stand before the three others, chest rising and falling rapidly, wondering if you’ve gone too far this time.

Dustin is the one who steps forward first. He stares at you for a moment, his eyes sad, knowing that there’s more to your reluctance than just the possible danger. He understands how hard you fight to keep him safe, and how much harder you blame yourself when something goes wrong. With a sigh, your brother grabs your hand and starts to pull you away from the others.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Dustin says to Steve and Robin. Then, with an uncharacteristically gentle voice, he says to you, “let’s go home.”

You’re too tired to argue and you’re afraid you’ll start crying if you try to say anything else, so you follow after your brother and leave Steve and Robin alone in the hall.

–

At home, you lay in bed trying to ignore the twisting feeling in your stomach that you’ve let everyone down. That you’ve let Steve down. You’ve never really argued with him before, at least not like this. You’re not even sure if you can call what happened earlier an argument, and the thought makes you groan and shove your face into your pillows.

You’re exhausted.

As your thoughts spiral, your phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Hey, bug.”

Jonathan’s voice settles over you in slow, soothing waves. You close your eyes, having not known how much you needed him until now. “Hi, bee.”

“You sound tired.” He notes with slight worry, always able to read you.

You sigh. “It’s… been a long day.”

He hums over the phone, and the sound is familiar and lovely, though just as tired. “You too, huh?”

“I take it you’re not doing too well, either?”

“No,” he sighs, a slight gruffness to it. “Meet me in your driveway in ten minutes?”

“Deal.”

He hangs up and you crawl out of bed, despite your aching bones protesting. You throw on a hoodie knowing to ward off July’s brisk night air and lazily lace up your sneakers. Slowly, so as to not make any loud noise, you open your door and poke your head out.

The house is quiet. Your mom and Dustin must be asleep in their rooms, so you softly close your door and make your way outside.

It doesn’t take long before Jonathan’s car pulls into your driveway. He has his headlights off, long familiar with the routine of picking you up late at night for drives around town. The two of you used to do it every night the summer he first got his license.

You get into the car and the heat kisses your cheeks. Jonathan greets you with a tired smile as you put your seatbelt on, and when you nod your head at him, he starts the car and drives.

Neither of you say anything for a while as Jonathan drives the route you always take together. He has an old mix tape playing and you hum along, familiar with the songs. It’s peaceful, your fears from earlier have now faded; for now, it’s just you and Jonathan as you drive around Hawkins.

“I’m sorry for being M.I.A recently.” He finally says after a while. You sit up a bit, knowing he’s ready now to talk about what’s brought him here tonight. The two of you never just drive around anymore for the fun of it, you know he’s here because there’s something bothering him. “Nancy has been… worrying me.”

You lean closer to Jonathan, now concerned. “Is everything okay between you two?”

“Honestly?” He breathes in shakily. “I–I don’t know.”

“Talk to me, bee.” You grab his hand that rests on the stick shift.

And he does. He explains about a woman named Mrs. Driscoll who called the Hawkins Post and how Nancy had decided to check out the story without telling their boss, roping Jonathan into it. He explains the rat they saw at the woman’s house, how it had looked sick, maybe infected with rabies, and how he had taken pictures of it to show their boss.

When Nancy showed the men at the newspaper what they found, they had all laughed and belittled her.

As Jonathan tells the story, he shakes his head in anger. “They were horrible to her, bug.”

You sigh, feeling awful for Nancy as well. “She’s smarter than all those men combined. She deserves better.”

“She does,” Jonathan shakes his head again. “But Tom, our boss, ordered her to drop the story. But Nancy…”

“Refuses to back down?” You guess, knowing how stubborn and passionate the girl is.

Jonathan swallows. “Yeah.”

“What happened tonight, Jonathan?” You sense there’s something he isn’t telling you, that there’s more to this than just men being shitty to Nancy at work.

“Nance, she–uh. She wouldn’t back down, even after I told her I was scared we’d get fired if we kept investigating Mrs. Driscoll, but she–she needed to prove she was right and I just–I can never tell her no. She’s relentless, ambitious, it’s what I love about her, but… Y/N, we found Mrs. Driscoll eating fertilizer after breaking into her house.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp and drop Jonathan’s hand. “Is she okay? What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Jonathan clenches his jaw. “We called for help and they took her to the hospital. When I dropped Nancy off at home, she… She wants to go visit the woman in the hospital.”

You’re silent for a moment, now understanding why Jonathan seems so shaken up. “Nancy still wants her story.”

“She does.”

“And you think she’s going too far.”

“I do.”

You sigh. “Jonathan…”

“I don’t know what to do, Y/N!” He raises his voice now, his anger surfacing. “I mean, we could get fired and she doesn’t seem to care! When Tom finds out that we’re the ones who put Mrs. Driscoll in the hospital… I–I can’t lose this job, bug. I can’t. Especially not because of some douchebags my girlfriend wants to prove wrong.”

As Jonathan unravels, your heart aches for both him and Nancy. It’s a tough situation, you understand both sides, and you can’t imagine having to go through any of it.

Sighing, you grab his hand again and try to find the right words. “You have every right to feel scared, bee. I completely understand, this job means so much more to you than just some summer activity like it does for Nancy, but…” You bite your lip, worried you’ll say the wrong thing. “I also think Nancy’s ambition is admirable. From the stories she’s told me, those men are fucking vile and treat her like shit. I think you should try being more supportive of her.”

“How am I supposed to be supportive if I lose my job?”

You sigh again. “By holding her hand and recognizing that while it’s hard being poor in this world, it’s also hard being a woman. Both of you have a reason to be upset, and while I’m not saying it’s fair of Nancy to disregard your financial situation, I think you both need to sit down and talk about this without the other getting defensive.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. “Neither one of us gets defensive.”

“You two are the most defensive and prideful people I’ve ever met, it’s a miracle you haven’t fought until now.”

He laughs at this, knowing you’re right. “Maybe another conversation wouldn’t hurt… I just, what’s going to happen tomorrow?”

You shrug. “I can’t tell you that, but I can tell you that you’ll need Nancy just as much as she’ll need you, okay?”

“It frustrates me how you always manage to say the right thing.”

“You’ve known me for years now, it’s your fault for not getting used to it.”

Jonathan laughs again and his shoulders relax, his anger and fear now dissipating. While he’s still unsure what tomorrow will bring, he knows that at least he’ll have you. Then the two of you drive past Steve’s house and Jonathan remembers how tired you sounded earlier on the phone.

“So, we gonna talk about why you had such a long day today?” Though it’s phrased as a question, you know that Jonathan understands if you don’t want to answer.

However, your own fears weigh heavily on your mind and you indulge him, because you always do. “Dustin intercepted a Russian code a few days ago and roped Steve, Robin, and I into helping him decipher it.”

“A Russian code?”

“Yeah. Not sure if I can explain it any better than that, honestly.”

Jonathan raises his eyebrows at you. “Is it anything dangerous?”

“I don’t know,” you groan, dropping your head into your knees. “That’s the million dollar question right now. Dustin and everyone else wants to keep investigating this, they want to break into a goddamn vault, and I just… I have a bad feeling about this, bee.”

“What does Steve think about all of this?” His voice is light, but his hands tighten ever so slightly on the steering wheel. You see this and look away, knowing he won’t like what you’re about to say.

“He’s why I sounded so tired earlier,” you confess, eyes closed. “He wouldn’t listen to me tonight, and I just–”

You stop mid sentence, your words catching in your throat. Jonathan looks over at you with concern and makes a quick decision to pull to the side of the road and park. “Hey, bug. Look at me.” Swallowing back tears, you do as you’re told. When your eyes meet his, Jonathan brings your hand to his lips. “Talk to me.”

“I’m terrified he’ll be another ‘almost.”

Jonathan’s lips ghost over your hands and you feel his breath stutter slightly at your words. He knows the pain that comes with “almost”, he knows he’s the reason why the word stings your tongue as you say it out loud. “He’s not another ‘almost’, Y/N.”

“I don’t know anymore.” Tears start to fall down your face and you’re mortified. You hate the words coming out of your mouth, they feel like a betrayal to Steve and the promise you made him, and you hate that you’re saying all this to Jonathan. “He–he seems interested, sometimes, but it’s July now and–and he hasn’t… He couldn’t even look me in the eye tonight, Jonathan.”

Jonathan doesn’t say anything. He can’t say anything.

You’re crying in his passenger seat over a boy you love, a boy who isn’t him, and all Jonathan can do is hold your hands as you cry.

“I’m sorry, bug.” He apologizes for more than just your upset over Steve. Jonathan apologizes for it all, for the years between you two, for the almosts and what if’s and missed chances.

“Yeah. I am, too.” You wipe your eyes, embarrassed now. “Can you, uh, take me home, please?”

Jonathan nods and wordlessly starts the car again.

It feels like last year, back to being unsure about love and relationships and being exhausted by it all, and you can’t help but laugh at the irony of it. The small laugh turns into a louder one, then into full body hysterics, and Jonathan worries for a second that you’ve lost your mind. “Y/N, you’re scaring me a little.”

You clutch at your stomach and laugh even harder. “S-sorry, I just–oh my god. I can’t believe I–I’m here again.”

“I’m lost.”

“Just drive, bee.” You try to calm yourself down, though giggles still rise through your chest. You think you’re delirious, honestly.

Yet some things never change, and it feels good to be in Jonathan’s car and breathless from laughter, even if your heart aches as you do so.

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feralforfrank · 1 year

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EVERYTHING WILL BE JUST FINE.

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X FEM!READER

summary the aftermath of the mission that almost causes the loss of your life.

cw description of a panic attack (reader has one), canon codmw2 violence & mentions of it, feeeeeeelingssssss, hurt/comfort, atp mutual pining & idiots in love. NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER. TELL ME IF I MISSED ANYTHING!!!!

a/n some people asked for part two, sooooo!!! i delivered :)

masterlist | taglist

When you opened your eyes, it was because of the horrid images that haunted your eyelids. You woke with a gasp and a ripple of pain spreading through your whole body. The room was dark and cold, but you felt the soft mattress underneath you begging to swallow your exhausted body.

It all came to you slowly. The mission, the men trying to escape with your team's hidden car, you leaving your post and sneaking behind them, fighting them, and managing to get stabbed two times. The pain in your side was becoming more and more apparent now.

A flash of Ghost holding you in his arms makes you tense. He'd come to your rescue. Called you darling. Held you in his arms and reassured you that you'd be okay. You're fine. Nothing that can't be fixed. I can fix it.

Your heart fluttered, and your gaze blurred with tears. It wasn't right to have a crush on your superior, but you couldn't help yourself. Everything about Simon Riley fascinated you—from his continuous silences and intense glares to his very attractive build. You didn't need to see his face to know he was drop-dead gorgeous. The mask was one of the things that made Ghost even hotter.

But it was wrong. Ghost's your lieutenant, your superior, and there was no way he'd ever feel the same way about you anyway. You doubt he could feel love sometimes. He cared for his team, that's for sure, but this line of work didn't allow deep and romantic sentiments.

The jiggle of the door handle snapped you out of your thoughts. You jumped, causing your wounds to throb. A poorly contained whimper escaped your lips. Your heart sped up in fear, and your left hand tried to look for the knife strapped to your left thigh.

Fuck, it's not there.

The silhouette slips in, and you swear your heart feels about to leap from your throat. A tear slides down your cheek as the man approaches your side. Shit, he's here to kill you. Finish you for what you did to his companions.

In your panicked haze and blurred gaze, you don't hear Simon calling your name. You see him set down a tray next to your head, and fuck—he's going to torture you first? Where the fuck is Ghost? Soap? Gaz?

"K-Kyle?" You try, but your voice is hoarse and not as loud as intended.

Your gaze falls to the door, and you call Johnny's name. Then Simon's. You plead, but it's still not loud enough. More tears slide down your face, your ears ring, and your body shakes under the blanket.

"—ocus! Focus on me, Owl! You're safe here!" The man calls your name. "I'm not gonna hurt ya, darlin'."

Darlin'.

Darlin'. Darlin'!

Ghost.

And suddenly, the ringing in your ears subsides, and panic isn't bubbling hot in your blood. You feel his hands now, touching your bare shoulders—cold fingers touching scorching skin—shaking you to pull you out of your living nightmare.

"It's okay, lovie. S'alright. You're alright." He shushes you, sitting next to your feet.

"Help me up," you whisper.

Ghost reluctantly helps you sit up, gently touching your wrists. He towers over you to adjust the thin pillows on your back. Your gaze never leaves him. He's rid himself of the tactical vest, only wearing his tight-as-shit shirt, pants, and of course, his balaclava. Thank fuck, it's not the skull one. You melt at how he cares for you, despite you having fucked up the whole operation.

He grabs a bottle of water from the tray, and you have to remind yourself that it doesn't carry torture devices. The man in front of you is Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley, not the enemy. You gulp the water greedily like you've been walking in the desert under the scorching heat for hours.

"Want another one?" He asks. You shake your head.

There's a pause. The silence isn't tense but not comfortable. The nagging guilt—from both of you—holds you back from being truly open with each other.

You should've never left your post. The team would've been able to escape without the car anyway. Your thoughts are never-ending.

Simon wants to punch himself. He shouldn't have had to carry you to the car. The guilt of letting you get hurt punctured a hole in his chest.

A sniff brought him back. "I'm sorry."

He looks at you. Stares at you with those emotionless eyes, and you hate it. You hate that you can't guess what he's thinking. You'd fucked up that much is true.

"Fuck—" You hiccup and look away from him. "I didn't mean to. I panicked. I thought—I don't know what I thought. I'm sorry, Ghost, truly—"

"What're you sorry for?" His hard tone startles you.

You look at him, confused more than ever. "I fucked up the mission. Got hurt in the process too. We would've been in base by now had it not been for my fuck-up."

"You protected the team."

"No, I put my team and this mission in jeopardy."

"You took care of a threat, Sargeant." His tone was final. "You did your job. Greatly."

You inhale deeply, your eyes meeting Simon's. His gaze is like stone, but you can see the glint of pride he has for you.

"I was so scared." Fuck you for tearing up again. You felt weak.

You look down at your hands. The light slipping through the open door allows you to see the dark colour they have. Your blood—God, you hope it's yours—stains your palms and reaches up to your wrists.

"I told you I'd fix it," Simon says, and you melt at his words. "Fixed you up pretty good, all things considered."

It makes you laugh. The timing isn't great, but the chuckle escapes before you can stop it.

"Thank you, Ghost. I owe you big time."

He shakes his head. "Don't mention it. I'm your Lt. I'm supposed to keep you safe and alive."

Lt.

I'm your Lt.

It stings. You want him to call you darling and lovie again. You purse your lips and nod your head, feeling awkward thinking such thoughts with him present.

"Thank you." You pause, looking for something to ask Ghost—so he doesn't leave. You can't be alone right now. "Where are we?"

"Deep in the woods. They can't find us here."

Pursing your lips, you nod, feeling relieved. The silence returns, and Ghost exhales. "That's soup and meds for the pain. Not much, though. I don't want you passing out."

He stands to leave, and you jump, completely forgetting about the stitched wounds. "Where are you going?" Simon stills at the fear in your voice.

"Leaving?"

It comes out as a question—not what he'd intended. He was fighting the urge to show you how scared he'd been—and still is—after almost having you dead in his arms. The sentimental feelings toward you are growing stronger every second he spends with you, and it's dangerous. He has to stop permitting himself to feel. To hope that one day you'll feel the same for him. God, he feels like a teenager just thinking these thoughts.

But how can he not hope? When you look at him with wide, terrified eyes, swimming in unshed tears. When you're gripping the bowl of soup, he made carefully just for you, silently pleading with him to sit a tad bit longer.

He can see your lips tremble, but you hide it well by pursing them. The words are on your tongue, but you can't bring yourself to ask him to stay because fuck. How much more can you ask from this man? He saved you, patched you up, made you food, and now you wanted him to stay, purely out of fear. It's embarrassing to request this, especially in your line of work.

So, Simon decides to do it for you. "Unless you want me to stay?"

Your expression is shocked, but you eagerly nod before he can change his mind. You scooch to make room for his big frame on the small bed, and he actually manages to lay next to you, a hand draped on the bedframe to pull you closer.

You feel safe. Simon tends to make people feel this way. It's not only his large frame but how he carries himself and shows affection to the people he cares about. It doesn't matter if you talk or stay silent—he prefers silence—Ghost's presence is relaxing enough for you to eat your soup and drink your meds.

And when you finish, he grabs the bowl and places it next to him. When you start to drift off and snuggle closer to steal his warmth, he forces his tense shoulders to loosen and pulls you closer. He kisses the top of your head, and your hair tickles his cold nose even through his balaclava.

He knows his back will ache from the uncomfortable position he's sitting in, but he doesn't care because you're alive. Alive and safe. In his arms. And it's all that matters right now.

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[ taglist: @master-amidala, @darklordofthesimp (i'm finally writing for this fandom! ]

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andreafmn · 17 days

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Kinktober ⛓️ Day 26

Word Count: 4.0K Paring: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Requested by @elizabeth916: "Supernatural" Prompt @kinktober2023: Masturbation WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), slight voyeurism, vaginal fingering, masturbation, joint masturbation

Summary: After a hard life and a close brush with death via vampire, (Y/N) is taken in by Bobby Singer and taught the way of the hunters, even if that was the last thing he wanted for her. Add Dean and Sam Winchester into the mix, and she's more involved in the hunter lifestyle than before. Now, Dean is always always at odds with the girl. Even if he was the one who asked her to join them, he's always the one getting in her way. Sam says it's because he's in love with her. (Y/N) just thinks he's stubborn. One way or another, she's gonna find out they're both kind of right.

A/N: whoop, still doing this, I will try to finish before this october 🫣🫣 I've only gotten to season 5 of Supernatural so sorry this isn't more canon-centric

MASTERLIST

Constantly being on the road provided little privacy. Being the only girl in a team of hunters made it harder to have some. Being the only girl in a team of hunters that were brothers made it nearly impossible to have any.

But (Y/N) couldn’t complain. The Winchesters were the closest thing she had to a family, and they needed her help.

She had lost her parents at a young age and had made a life for herself as best as she could. She was sent from foster home to foster home until, at eighteen, she met Bobby Singer by chance during one of his hunts.

A couple of days before, she had been kidnapped by a young vampire as she walked from work and took her back to his nest, where she was fed upon from the moment she arrived. She believed she’d die there with nothing to show for her life other than a rundown apartment and a shitty waitressing job.

But just as everything had seemed bleak, Bobby had come in swinging a machete around and killed every single one of the vampires that had resided in the abandoned warehouse. Seeing the girl who was barely clinging to life, the man took her back to his motel and waited until she had regained consciousness.

He was sure she would scream, try to run away, or even hit him. Yet all she did was flutter her eyes open and thank him. She wasn’t afraid, nor was she angry. She had simply accepted what had happened to her as something else she had to deal with.

“You really ain’t scared of everything I just told you?” he had asked her that night as they ate some burgers. “I mean, I just told you that you almost died because of vampires, and you were more surprised that they put pickles in your burger.”

“I’ve dealt with worse shit in my life to find the supernatural unbelievable,” she shrugged. “With how my life goes, dying from a vampire is the least of my worries.”

Bobby had only met one other teenager as nonchalant and used to peril, and he had not been able to help him as much as he wanted to. But he knew he would always regret if he left (Y/N) to her own devices after meeting her. So, Bobby offered her a chance at a different life. Going against everything he had ever believed, he offered her a room at his place and a new job. And she said yes.

That answer had changed her entire existence.

(Y/N) took to the hunting lifestyle rapidly, finding it easier than being an eighteen-year-old girl living by herself in a sketchy part of town. She invested all her time and energy to get stronger and faster, wanting nothing more than to become better and better.

Bobby tried his best to keep her life balanced, especially after seeing what the hunting life had done to John Winchester’s sons, Dean and Sam. For years, he pushed her to have a social life and do things normal young people would. Still, he couldn’t squander her determination. So, when Dean called her up one day to help him and his brother find their father, she quickly agreed, much to Bobby’s dismay.

But once her mind was set on something, there wasn't much he could do; all he could do was hope she’d one day come back safe and sound.

And that was the day she had lost all sense of privacy. The trio jumped from motel to motel, and there was not enough money for two rooms. Thankfully, there always were two beds and sometimes a rickety couch, not that it helped the choking sexual tension between (Y/N) and the older Winchester.

From the moment they met, there was an undeniable chemistry between them. Sure, Dean flirted with anything that walked on two legs, but it was different with (Y/N). He wanted much more than just a one-night lay with her. He wanted the entire package–the apple pie life he’d dreamed of.

But he wanted something different for her—something better than what he could offer. Like Bobby, he didn’t want her involved in the hunting business. He had even begged Bobby not to let her go. But Sam was right. If they had any chance of finding their father, it would have been with her by their side. Just because he had agreed to let her tag along did not mean he didn’t worry whenever they were on a mission. If he wasn’t making sure that Sam wasn’t hurt, he was worried that (Y/N) was, and more often than not, his concern came out more like hostility rather than worry.

Much like their latest case. The three of them were sat at a diner, a giant breakfast spread on the table before them, and the only one eating was Dean. (Y/N) and Sam had their noses buried in books and laptops, trying to gather all information they could about a particular nest of vampires that had made their home in a small town outside of Detroit.

The case was particularly personal for (Y/N). The vamps that had been running amok the town had been the same ones that had almost taken her life many years before. Just like Bobby had told her, they left an item of the person they abducted with a star drawn in their blood at the place they were taken from. The creatures looked for easy targets and always hunted in the darkest corners of the night.

Now, (Y/N) had a plan to get to their nest, but it seemed she was the only one who thought it was a good one. “I’m just saying that it’s worth a try,” she whispered as she sipped her coffee. “I can make myself a target, and they’ll think it’s fucking divine intervention that they got the one that got away. Then you guys can follow and kill them all. I don’t see what’s so bad about that.”

“Are you fucking serious, (Y/N)?” Dean seethed. “They could kill you on the spot. It’s too risky.”

“It’s the only plan we’ve got right now that could actually end this,” she countered. “Even Sam thinks that it’s good.”

“All I said was that it could technically work,” the younger Winchester defended. “But I also agree with Dean that it’s too dangerous.”

“I don’t care if I get hurt as long as we get them.”

“It’s not about you getting hurt, (Y/N),” Dean spat, slamming what was left of his sandwich onto the plate. “It’s about you fucking dying.”

“Well, it’s a risk I’m willing to take,” she countered with the same anger. “It’s my life we’re talking about here, Dean. Not yours.”

“You’re fucking unbelievable!” he exclaimed through gritted teeth as he got up, grabbing his jacket in the process. “I’ll be in the room. I need to cool off.”

Sam and (Y/N) watched as the older Winchester left the diner, a cloud of steam almost visible in his step. It wasn’t the first time he had stormed out that way; it was his standard practice when things weren’t going according to his plan. But that moment, in particular, felt different. The energy was different.

“Okay, he needs to get over himself,” the girl muttered as she slouched in her seat, her arms crossed across her chest. “You guys cannot be the only ones allowed to sacrifice yourselves for the greater good. I know I can get hurt. I signed up for this job just like you guys did.”

“I don’t know who’s more oblivious,” Sam snickered as he popped a slice of bacon in his mouth. “You seriously don’t understand why he acts like that with you?”

“Because he’s a total douche with a god-complex?”

“No, idiot,” he laughed. “Because he likes you and cares about what happens to you.”

“Oh, come on, Sammy. We’ve been through this before,” (Y/N) said. “The only things Dean Winchester cares about are his car and you. I don’t even fall in the top five.”

“Jesus, you’re both just so stubborn,” he sighed, rubbing his temples. “Go talk to him, and then tell me if he doesn’t care.”

“He’s just gonna fight with me.”

“Go, (Y/N),” Sam exclaimed. “And actually talk to him.”

“Fine!” the young woman finally relented. “But you’re getting stuck with the research then.”

“Like that’s ever changed,” he scoffed jokingly. “Now, go.”

(Y/N) took the short walk back to the motel as slowly as she could, kicking a rock in her step as she fiddled with the key. It wasn’t the first time Sam had hinted at Dean’s supposed feelings for her. It had become his one source of teasing material since they had met for the first time. But she had always taken it as a joke, nothing more—just a quip a little brother used to bother his older brother. There was no way there was any truth to it. And if going to the room proved that, then that was what (Y/N) had to do.

As she neared the motel, she caught a glimpse of Baby, and a slight chuckle bubbled in her throat. That car was Dean’s one true love, and she knew that. He treated his vehicle better than any of the women he paraded in and out of their motel rooms or even the ones who never made it out of the bars. Hell, he treated it better than her or Sam at times.

That was the reason she had never admitted her feelings in the almost eight years she had known him. (Y/N) knew they wouldn’t be reciprocated. Dean had never given a single indication that he’d ever share her sentiment. Well, other than Sam’s words. But who could believe him then?

All she needed was one sign. A simple whisper from the universe that he did share in those feelings. That the reason he fought with her so much was because there were so many emotions bottled up inside him that he couldn’t help how they came out. Just one sign.

“(Y/N),” she heard an exhale as she neared the motel door. It was raspy and guttural, and she knew it had not come from the wind. “Fuck, (Y/N).”

She could have been dreaming. In the supernatural world, anything was possible. But the metal doorknob felt too cold in her hand, and the key turned too loudly for it to be her imagination. Behind that door, a scene was unfolding that surpassed her wildest fantasies, and she was the main character without knowing it.

(Y/N) opened the door slowly, pulling it upward to avoid the whining of the hinges, and she came face-to-face with something she could have only dreamed of. In fact, she was sure she had dreamt it before.

Dean was splayed in the middle of her bed, his hard cock in one hand and a pair of her underwear in the other. He ran his hand up and down his length, easing his pumping with the leaking precum that stained him. After every few strokes, he’d bring the piece of fabric to his face, taking a long drag before muttering (Y/N)’s name once more.

His eyes were pressed shut, and his movements were erratic. Dean was close, that much she could tell. She could see it in the way he breathed, in the way his hips stuttered, and the way his skin had grown red and flushed. Dean was reaching his climax with her name spilling from his tongue.

“So fucking stubborn,” he croaked out as his seed spilled all over his stomach. “(Y/N), fu~uck.”

“Good to know my underwear didn’t just disappear three months ago,” she grinned as she finally made herself known. “Didn’t take you for a panty sniffer, Deanie.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Dean exclaimed as he tried his best to cover himself. He pulled the sheets from under himself, pulling too hard and falling to the floor with a loud thud. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to know who you were thinking about,” (Y/N) taunted as she approached him. His legs were still on the bed, and his jeans pooled around his ankles while the sheet covered the rest of his body. At any given time, she would have made fun of him; tease him until he begged her to stop. But the heat that pooled between her legs had blurred her mind, and all that she wanted was to replace the hand that was working him. “Something you wanna tell me, Dean?”

“God, you’re insufferable,” Dean huffed as he tried to get up. “It’s not what you think.”

“And what do I think, Deanie? What did I just walk into?”

“I just needed to relieve some stress.”

“Oh, and do you always relieve your stress thinking of me?” (Y/N) mewled as she knelt down, her breath hot on his skin as she whispered in his ear. He stiffened up at her closeness, trying his best not to touch her. “See what I think, Deanie, is that what Sam’s been telling me is the truth. That you like me and that you care about me. And since daddy never taught you how to express yourself correctly, you just let everything out when you’re angry.”

Those words ignited a fire in Dean. He no longer cared about his lack of clothing or the situation (Y/N) had caught him in. All he wanted was to regain control. “You think you’re funny, huh?” he growled as he flipped her onto the ground and towered over her. “You think that just because you caught me like this, you know everything now?”

“I know enough,” she smirked up at him as she fought against his grip. “Matter of fact, I can feel it against my leg right now.”

“And you think it’s for you? You think you’re the only (Y/N) out there?”

“I’m the only one you know,” she teased. “And I’m the one whose panties you were sniffing.”

“It’s just a matter of convenience, (Y/N),” he shrugged. “You’re here. That’s that.”

“Are you sure, Dean? Because I’ve never seen you hoard the underwear of any of your past playdates. So, why mine? And why were you jacking off with my name rolling off your tongue?” (Y/N) propped her torso up by her elbows, pressing the tip of her nose to his, testing the waters before diving in. “And what if I told you I felt the same way, Deanie? What if I said that I’ve thought of you with my own hand down my pants? That I’ve edged myself for hours thinking of what you could do to me. And it’s not a matter of convenience for me, Dean. It’s the real deal.”

Dean couldn’t believe what the woman under him was saying. He’d gone so long thinking his feelings were one-sided that Sam only told him the things he wanted to hear. To him, (Y/N) was too smart and too beautiful ever to want to be with him. He wasn’t what she deserved, but now he knew he was what she wanted.

“Tell me you’re messing with me,” he grumbled. “Tell me this is just one big joke.”

“Why do you want me to lie to you, Dean? Is it so hard to believe that someone can feel something for you? That I love you?”

“You don’t mean that,” he continued. “How would you know what you feel is real? It’s not like you have a lot of options on the road.”

“Because I’ve felt like this from the moment I met you, Dean,” she confessed. Her heart had begun hammering inside her chest, begging for a moment of rest. But that was the last thing she wanted. It was the last thing she needed. “Why don’t you want to believe that I could feel this way about you?”

“Because you deserve better, (Y/N),” he muttered softly, almost like he didn’t want her to hear it. “I’m not better.”

(Y/N) knew words were not enough to calm the doubts that drowned his mind, but she knew how she could show it. With a smile on her face, she pulled one of Dean’s hands with her own as she unzipped her pants with her other. She moved their interlocked hands to the wetness that had pooled in her core, pressing his calloused fingers on the aching bundle of nerves that had been begging for attention. “I know what I deserve,” she hissed. “And I know what I want, Dean. I want you.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he argued. But his fingers were telling another story. As if by instinct, his digits had started circling her clit, rubbing circles and shapes over the bud. “I’m damaged goods, (Y/N). I’m no good.”

“And I’m not better,” she added. “We all have a past, Dean. It can’t stop us from living in the present.”

“Is that what you’re doing, then?” Dean chuckled. “Living in the present?”

“We both are, Deanie,” (Y/N) grinned mischievously, knowing she had won him over. “As soon as you give in, baby.”

“You win, then,” he smiled. “For now.”

Dean pressed his lips to (Y/N)’s, savoring their softness and their warmth. It was everything he had imagined and more. They moved perfectly in sync, fitting into each other’s empty spaces like they had been crafted for each other. And maybe they were. Maybe they were part of some divine plan and had no idea. But at that moment, it didn’t matter. It was the fact that they were together that made everything just right.

“So, is this all because of me?” Dean taunted as he teased her folds. “This how you always are?”

“Yeah,” she sighed in pleasure. “I can’t help it when I’m with you.”

“Wish I had known earlier,” he grinned deviously. “I would have been taking care of you, (Y/N).”

“I think we’ve been taking care of ourselves quite well,” (Y/N) teased. “I mean, from what I saw today, you got your system down.”

“Oh, is that so? That mean you got your system too?”

“Well, I have not heard any complaints yet,” she chuckled. “I kind of know my body quite well.”

“Show me then.”

“What?”

“Did I stutter?” Dean smiled. “Get up on the bed and show me how you touch yourself thinking of me, baby.”

Dean slipped an arm under her legs and another on her back and carried her to the bed, where he laid her body softly on the mattress. He kissed his way down her body as he rid her of her clothes, revealing the valley of her skin and marking his path with his mouth.

“Show me,” he said as he kissed down her legs. “Show me what you do.”

“You gotta get off me first,” she chuckled. “Or are you gonna do the work for me?”

“As tempting as that sounds, baby, we gotta even the fields here. And we don’t have much time.”

With a slight chuckle, (Y/N) situated herself comfortably on the bed, propping her back up with a few pillows. Just enough so she could see Dean’s form. He had dragged a chair and rested it just at the foot of the bed, his eyes firmly trained on the woman’s body.

Soon enough, (Y/N)’s hands set off to work instinctively. They roamed her body sensuously, squeezing and kneading her most sensitive spots. As they worked their way through her skin, one rested upon her breast as the other made its way between her legs. She spread her limbs wide, giving Dean the show of a lifetime as her digits spread her folds and gathered her wetness before landing on her aching clit.

She knew it was her hands that were touching her, but her mind quickly tricked her into thinking it was Dean’s calloused fingers running across her body. In her head, it was him that was toying with her clit, it was him that was pinching her hardened nipples, it was him that was bringing her closer and closer to her awaited orgasm.

But it was clear that it wasn’t. Where he sat, Dean had taken his hard cock back into his hand, pumping at the same rate (Y/N) was touching herself. He slid his hand up and down his length, using his thumb to circle the head as precum coated him. In his head, it was her hand wrapped around him, squeezing softly as he tried to ride out his climax as long as he could.

“Fuck yourself, baby,” Dean groaned out. “I’m getting close here.”

“I always knew you were always too fast to the finish line,” she teased, concealing a moan that burst through. “Might just call you two-minute Dean.”

“You really know how to shatter the fantasy, (Y/N),” he sighed. “Just do it, baby.”

“Alright, but stop talking, Dean. You’re wrecking my fantasy here.”

After Dean finally quieted, stifling a moan that was bubbling, (Y/N) continued with her work. The hand that had been touching her chest slithered down her body, sinking into her core as her other hand continued her attack on her clit.

Moans and pants left her as she pistoned into her cunt, her digits curling at the end to bring her that much closer to her climax. She could see how hard it was for the man before her to keep up with her speed. His skin had started to redden and beads of sweat had formed across his body. His chest heaved quickly, and his movements stuttered as he held onto whatever resolution he had left.

“Fuck, Dean,” she moaned. “I’m so close, baby.”

“Me too, sweetheart,” he stammered. “Keep going. Cum for me, baby.”

(Y/N)’s picked up speed as she felt the tight coil in the pit of her stomach threatening to snap. She had done that dance many times before, searching, pushing, beckoning her orgasm to the brink. But it was the first time the Dean that was before her was real, close enough she could touch him. Close enough he could touch her.

It was that very thought that had her yelling out his name as her finish washed over her body, drenching her hands in her essence. Close behind, Dean burst across his stomach with her name dripping from his tongue, his eyes firmly trained on hers.

Dean took her into another rough kiss as they came down from their respective orgasms, her lips so irresistible he didn’t care how out of breath he was. “God, you’re perfect,” he panted. “So fucking perfect, baby.”

“Was that everything you had dreamed of?” (Y/N) teased with a grin. “Was that what was running through your head when I caught you?”

“Something like that,” he chuckled as he caressed her cheek. “It was more of a contact sport, if you get what I’m saying.”

“Well, we still got some time to kill before nightfall,” she offered. “And I’ve got enough for a round two.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, baby.”

As Dean kissed his way down (Y/N)’s neck, a knock on the door startled them apart, sending them scrambling for their clothes.

“Guys?” Sam called from the other side of the door. “Is everything okay with you two? We really need to get ready for tonight.”

“Fucking Sammy,” Dean grumbled quietly, his eyes rolling as he slipped his t-shirt on. “We were just getting done talking.”

“No fighting?”

“We were very civil, Sam,” (Y/N) called out, trying her best to swallow the laughter that was bubbling in her throat. The pair had gotten dressed in record time, fixing the bed and brushing their hair. She was slipping on her boots when she whispered to Dean, “We are definitely getting a raincheck on that round two, Dean.”

“Oh, you betcha, baby,” he grinned. “Don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful to be caught in the act.”

“Just be grateful it was me and not Sam,” she smiled before kissing him once more. “Now, let’s go kill us some vampires.”

My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts or buy me a coffee to support me and my love of writing If you’d like to be tagged in every Kinktober work, any fandom or story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

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bleue-flora · 2 months

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Ok, I recently wrote an essay [here] talking about the definition and duties of civil engineering as well as the ethics because of the brain rot @swordfright gave me with calling Dream Sam’s ultimate engineering project. So, because I actually am a civil engineer I took it upon myself to design the title and summary of quantities sheets just like I do at work for roads but with Dream as the project instead. And in honor of angst day sponsored by @sixteenth-day-event, I figured I’d share it because I feel like it kinda works for the prison of the mind prompt.

“Sam’s “ultimate engineering project” he deemed too damaged like a bumpy road or crumbling building that wasn’t worthy of patching and filling in the cracks or reinforcing, that’s too eroded to be fixed and preserved. So, Sam strived to tear him down to the bedrock so he could remake, remold, and reengineer Dream according to his design for the common safety, public health and well-fair.”

{These are very similar to the actual sheets I make day to day, which I shall not share for the sake of doxing my location, but yea pretty much everything has a significance. Some of it doesn’t necessarily make sense but that was because I was more so taking inventory of what we see in lore (so you know I counted ;) lol)}

#sixteenthdayevent #AAANNNNNGGST #Ah and now you see why I’ve been digging up all the prison lore and inventories ;D…. my brain rot is too powerful #still never got wardens torment enchants though :( did for the shovel and how which I’ll now have to write torture scenes for…#so ummm stay tuned for that in Misery Loves An Idiot… Dream going to have lots of fun I’m sure >:)#c!dream #dsmp #dreblr #dream smp #dsmp dream #dsmp analysis #dsmpblr #prison arc #dsmp art #pandora’s vault has a singular purpose #pandora’s vault #c!dream fanart #flora does art apparently #ah Sam… such a good engineer… if only he realized Dream was a person not a condemned structure oof #if y’all are curious enough I might share a irl work example with different numbers and stuff but didn’t want to bore you XD #happy angst day :)… wait isn’t that everyday? lol #can we talk about how I’ve done all of these prompts as descriptions of metaphors and stuff kinda funny #civil engineering

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weird-an · 8 months

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Billy stretches himself out on Steve's bed, hair tousled and lashes fluttering.

"I'm still horny," he groans.

Steve laughs. They are both still sweaty, catching their breaths.

"You wanna go again?"

Billy gives him a smirk, but shakes his head. "I'm horny with my… " He trails off and taps his chest.

Steve wants to scream at him and kiss him at the same time. He knows Billy has trouble voicing his emotions, but this? This is a new low and a high at once.

"Do you have feelings for me?" he asks carefully.

"Don't be an idiot," Billy laughs nervously.

"Dude, you're the idiot!" Steve sits up in the bed. He puts his finger on Billy's chest. "Horny with your heart? Just say it!"

"My dick has feelings for yours," Billy rolls his eyes. "That's why I'm only-"

God. Steve is apparently dating. Steve is dating an idiot. He has never been so happy and annoyed.

"Great," he snaps. "My dick's got feelings for you, too."

Billy stays silent for a while. "Really?"

Steve groans. "Really."

"Cool."

Billy's grin shines brighter than the sun. That's enough for now, Steve decides.

#they are idiots your honour #writing this to compensate for the angst in my wips #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #harringrove ficlet #steve x billy

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xxxairheadedangelxxx · 7 months

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I think Nicole steals Jecka her first scene queen style belt. Jecka is very obviously wrapped up in just wearing and doing whatever the fuck her mom requires of her but after admitting she likes MSI Nicole kept bugging her for information and found a whole wanna be scene queen hidden behind those just a little too small hollister tshirts and unripped jeans.

slowly but surely Nicole starts swiping and then leaving more and more clothing in the scemo vibe at Jecka's house. She doesn't catch on for a while but when she does her initioal reaction is to yell at Nicole for clogging up her closet but she stops herself realizing maybe it's ok to indulge some things about herself that werent defined by her mother.

She says nothing about it but Nicole swears she saw Jecka wear the rainbow studded belt under her little Abercrombie sweater one day.

#jeckole #class of 09 #nicole #jecka #scemo #im sorry i just am so soft for these girls #nasty little bitches #they deserve a little bit of normal happiness #im sure ill write angst headcanonbs at some point but for now they are just two lesbians helping each others character development #if any of you saw this post where i swapped their names the entire time like a fucking idiot no you didnt

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actual-changeling · 5 months

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congratulations to @nightgoodomens for making me write the first ficlet of the year! this is so schmoopy and soft it almost makes me want to turn it super angsty instead—but i didn't, so enjoy the happiness while it lasts. inspired by this post.

you can also find it on ao3!

"Amazing how they came up with this all on their own, isn't it?"

Crowley leans back and stretches his neck as far as it will go, losing himself not in the noise but the spaces between sparks, the stars no one can see but are there living and shining nevertheless.

They find themselves on a different rooftop every year, always close enough to see it all but far enough away to create their own bubble of shared joy. His coat is hanging open, the cold, smoke-saturated air rushing past him, and when he closes his eyes just for a second, he can pretend the fireworks exploding above him are galaxies being born; his creations, still right where he put them after all this time.

Next to him, Aziraphale hums quietly, knowing all too well that Crowley is not expecting a response—nor would he hear it if he were to give him one. Instead, he keeps his gaze on his face, tracing the lines of his profile as he carefully pulls off his gloves, finger by finger, before stuffing them into his pocket. He remembers, oh, he remembers, the innocent love he saw flowing through him back then, before time, before earth, before Mother became God became the Almighty.

Before all they loved was lost, one way or another. Then again, while defying all possible odds, they managed to find it once more, not just in each other but in humanity.

Another explosion showers them with sparks that will never reach their skin, and a bright shout of joy follows right after, Crowley's eyes impossibly wide.

"Beautiful," he whispers, and Aziraphale cannot stop himself from tentatively pressing their palms together.

Absently yet with deeply ingrained care, Crowley intertwines their hands, pulling him closer to point at a spot in the sky, and there is smoke on his lips and warmth in their bodies—the same heat, given freely, shared.

"If you go that way, do you know where you'll land?"

Shuffling towards him until he can rest his chin on Crowley's shoulder, he carefully lifts their joined hands to brush a kiss over his knuckles, still watching him, carving out a spot for his fire-lit face in his memory.

"Alpha Centauri," he replies softly, leaving another, almost imperceptible kiss on his cheek.

"Alpha Centauri," Crowley confirms, leaning their heads together, and for a while, the world is everything he ever wanted it to be.

#alex writes good omens #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #happy new year #to more writing and ineffable idiots #fluff. too much fluff. makes my skin itch #tiny tiny bit of angst because otherwise i would have exploded on the spot

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 11 months

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Master manipulator vs Master manipulator

[First] Prev <–-> Next

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #xue yang #a-qing #The scenes with XY and A-Qing are so delightfully tense and anxiety inducing #They are both so deep in the mind games with each other. Convinced they have the leg up when in reality they do not know the full scope #Also is is just me or do XY and A-Qing give off the vibe of internet nemeses?#A-Qing coming in hard with 'Oh you think blind people cant do XYZ? Get canceled idiot'#Meanwhile XY is the kind to purposefully use leet speak in descriptive text to antagonize the screen reader population.#a teen girl and a 4-channer who found his way to tumblr would be awful to watch fight irl but the vibes are equivalent.#Meanwhile XXC is going on a nice little walk to pick grass. I love him so much actually.#through writing these notes I have also gone down the rabbit hole of trying to pinpoint Xue Yang's age. Hello? Is it actually not known?#The best resources I could find put him as 1-3 years younger then xxc and song lan #So? early twenties? late teens? Someone who has absorbed more mdzs knowledge...Please help #Oh no I'm even deeper in the rabbit hole now. What do you mean the ages are mostly just relative?#What do you mean cultivators can age differently (usually slower in xianxia)#Oh no oh no wwx doesn't have a golden core. I was too accurate in my homestuck AU re: lifespans. I want to go back.#(I love angst and am now marinating this thought in my little thinking chamber)

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penvisions · 2 months

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by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 4}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: Worried about Joel's reputation from defending you, you try to get some distance. But the man has a way with words and you end up at his place for dinner. If he's so intent on being friends with you and touching you in ways that speed up your heart, why was everyone else getting cutting boards and kitchen utensils crafted by him?

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, blood, hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, slight angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, two (2} instances of joel miller gently touching reader, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting, talk of pregnancy, talk of birth, talk of labor, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, kissing (!!), yearning, protective joel, protective tommy, marsha gets her own warning now, fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov

A/N: this chapter was brought to you by arcade fire and euphoria of finishing three essays and watching four lecture videos + taking notes for class

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

The air was stifling inside the room, causing sweat to drip down the small of his back and bead up on his temples. The motion of him moving back and forth, back and forth tiring but satisfying. His hands ached, for the grip they held, holding secure to the object of his attention. His focus was striking, eyes dark and lips parted as he worked.

He had been at it for a long while, body humming with the effort he was putting into the movement. A grunt broadcasting the longer stretches of his back, the harder press of his hips. His arms were straining against the short sleeves of his shirt, the fabric tight around his muscles as they worked.

Sweat slick arms coated in sawdust as he painstakingly sanded down the planks of wood he had cut to proper dimensions to rest atop counter tops.

Huffing out, he pulled down the mask he had secured over his face, his breath causing the dust from his ministrations to billow up into the air.

No, he thought as he looked it over. Turning the wood over in his hands to inspect it. The fabric of his work gloves hushing over the smooth surface. No, he didn’t think he liked the idea of a circular board for you. He pictured you stood before a larger piece, sturdier. With little soft feet to hold it in place while you chopped expertly away at some herbs or broke down a chicken before roasting it. No, it had to be perfect. It had to feel like you, it had to be the best he could create. And the shape in his hands wasn’t right.

It needed to be perfect, because to him, you were perfect.

“Did you talk to Marsha about me?”

Joel sputtered, the sip of coffee he had just taken dribbling down his chin and shining in his beard.

“Did she apologize for how she’s been spreadin’ rumors?” You offered the kerchief from your back pocket across the space between your horses. They were moving slow, the morning sunlight shining down a warmth that hadn’t been seen for days. His hand grasped at it, the other trying to prevent the liquid from running down his neck and onto his clothing. Despite his rather comical reaction, he was serious as he looked you over.

“No, she was just…more cordial?” You raised a brow, fist tight over the saddle horn raising and opening as you tried to find the appropriate words to describe the weird encounter.

“She didn’t apologize?” Joel pinned you with a stern look, but you were sure it wasn’t really aimed at you if his tone of voice was anything to go by. He had been fine until you brought up Marsha’s name.

“She didn’t apologize.”

“Did- did you tell her to?”

“Yes. I did. She was rude when I was fixing something for her about a month back.”

“About me?” You guided Lowry to a stop, comforting her as she knickered, thrown off a little at the shift in normal protocol. Joel guided his own horse stop beside yours, watching with concern as you dismounted and tied her off to a nearby tree. You began to pace back and forth, the hush of the fallen leaves under your boots mimicking the anxiety that flowed through your veins. “You-you talked about me.”

“Said she was worried about me going out on patrol with you. So I set her straight.” He said as you watched you, pinpointing the tell tale signs in you that he felt too often himself. You removed your wide brimmed hat to rest it atop the empty saddle,

“Because she doesn’t want me to get you killed.”

“Nothin’ you could do would cause that, you don’t have to worry about me. You shouldn’t listen-“

“I did get someone killed. My best friend.” You admitted, mentally berating yourself for just blurting it out. You had planned to calmly tell him about the patrol that had changed your life, set you up on the path you currently walked, your status of the town outsider. But of course you botched it, mouth running as it so often did around him. Wanting to share things with him, of feeling safe and calm enough to say what came to mind around the man.

“You-what?”

“Five years ago.” You settled down on the ground, back against a thick trunk, head in your hands as you told the man you couldn’t get out of your thoughts the thing that made you an outsider within the settlement. It was rather unfortunate. People made it back alive and well for the most part, but in this case it seemed that the blame for what happened had been put on your shoulders. Almost as if you had done so out of jealousy or ill-intentions. The most common rumor was that you hadn’t liked how quickly and well along Aiden and Millie had once arriving and being accepted and offered refuge inside the gates.

But that wasn’t true. Aiden had only ever been a friend, a close one with the way you had to be in order to survive as long as you two did. He had been the only remaining part of your life from Before. You felt more like his guardian than any potential personal connection. He had been young, bus boy in the restaurant you had worked as a chef in. A ten year age difference between you, compelling you to take him with you when it all broke down. You two had been the only ones to make it out of the restaurant, some of the only ones to escape the round up and corralling of people within your small city.

You had been happy, unbelievably happy, when he had told you of his crush on Millie. Feeling like everything you had done and sacrificed was worth it if he could create a life for himself. For people to twist the situation and narrative to something it wasn’t, never sat well with you and proved to have been the cause of the divide between you and a majority of the residents of Jackson. Marsha taking it upon herself to blame you for the grief of her daughter’s lost love.

“We were on Teton and I didn’t notice we had a tail. They followed us and waited until we had scavenged through the village before they came at us.”

But he didn’t turn away, didn’t guide his horse in a complete one eighty and turn back toward the gates, he didn’t take a deep breath or look disturbed by the news at all. Instead, he took you completely by surprise and -

“Do you want to come to mine for dinner tonight?”

Your head shot up, taking in the way he was still atop his horse. The casual air about him as he regarded you with a warm smile.

“Joel, I just told you I got someone killed and you…invite me over for dinner?”

“Well, yeah. Been meaning too, Ellie wants to-“

“Joel, we shouldn’t be seen together. And you can’t be defending me around town. People are going to think-“

“People aren’t going to think anything, they been saying stuff out of line, and I set them straight. Simple as that.”

“Joel, people don’t like me. But they do like you, I don’t want your association with me to drag that through the mud.”

“I don’t care, you hear me?”

“That’s not the point!”

“Sweetheart, I will defend you until my last breath. You don’t deserve the way they talk about you. You feed them, make sure the meals actually taste good and have nutritional value, you put your admittedly very good looking ass on the line to protect them, and you share the harvest of the trees in your yard.”

“This is serious, Joel.”

“Olive,” He heaved a sigh, chin tucked low before he brought his eyes to yours. They were clear and set, intention behind them as they caught the brittle sunlight. “You are my friend. Friends defend each other and spend time with each other. They care about each other.”

“We are not friends.” You broke eye contact and shoved off from your spot. Feeling foolish for the overly simplified way he described the dynamic you two had. As if it was actually so simple. It was anything but, his reputation on the line the more he talked with you, the more he became your friend within the walls.

His hand caught yours as you walked by, stopping you from getting back to Lowry. He said your real name, stilling you even further with the way it fell from his lips.

“We are friends. I do care. I care a hell ova lot.”

“Not just cause I apparently have a good looking ass?” A weak attempt to lighten the mood, to play off his own easy banter.

“I mean, that might be a part of it. I’m not gonna lie to you.” The lopsided grin he brandished made your heart skip a beat, desire sparkling in your middle. “We’re friends, Olive. I heard the way people reacted when I first showed up, last winter. How they reacted when I showed up again months later with a noticeably more damaged Ellie. I-I know we don’t talk too much about it, but I’ve done some bad things too. Why would I fault you for what you think you’ve done?”

“I did other bad things,” You confessed, watching as he dismounted his own horse, coming to stand in front of you. He didn’t give you the chance to ask him what he was doing or give him one of your looks before he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest. Heart tittering, you slowly wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your face into his chest. His hands splayed across your lower back, warm and comforting, holding you up while you shared something new and difficult with him. Something you didn’t know you shared with the man.

“Bad, immoral things. To keep us alive before we got here. He was young when it happened, I had ten years on him. Aiden, his name was Aiden. I hadn’t been ready for the responsibility of someone depending on me, especially as everything we knew collapsed around us. But I did it. I did what I had to for us to survive and find a place like Jackson.”

The horses whinnied, sensing the tense emotions flowing from you, but a calming hush from Joel had them minding their own business as they stood tied close together.

“He-he was happy here, it took us so long to find a place that wasn’t just a trap or full of worse people than us. We stayed away from the QZ’s. Too much going on and too little freedom. But here? It was like a breath of fresh air. And he should’ve had a long, happy life the second we walked through those front gates. But instead he got a year of courting a love he never got to marry and was killed because of my oversight and lack of attention.”

“No, sweetheart, that’s not why.” You felt more than heard the deep rumble of his voice, feeling the light scrape of his facial hair along the top of your head as he spoke. “Patrol ain’t easy. It’s long hours on a horse, on foot, on a constant swivel to keep an eye out for any threats to what we have. And we have a lot to be worried about protecting. People tend to forget the reality of the world behind the gates, getting caught up in rumors and gossip and who’s sleeping with who. But you know what’s out here, I know what’s out here. And if they can’t accept the fact that shit happens, that good people die all the time, then that’s on them. That’s not on you. You hear me?”

He held you until your breath evened out, until you pulled away enough to look up at him. Until you leaned up and pressed your lips to the column of his neck. Smiling into the skin there when you felt his hands tighten around you in response.

“Thank you.” You whispered, pulling away slowly, his arms unwinding from around you.

The rest of the route was covered with simple, easy questions.

“What’s your favorite color?”

Blue he had responded, a deep indigo, erring on the side of purple almost. Your was brown, an amber tone that you didn’t say resembled his eyes in the sunlight, but of the way coffee looked before it was mixed with cream and sugar.

“What’s your favorite genre of music?”

Rock, generic and so spot on for him. You had teased him that he probably listened to bands categorized as classic rock and he had barked a laugh so beautiful you hadn’t heard him ask what yours was. Jazz, you had responded. For the sound of strings and wind coalescing in calming crescendo.

Conversation flowed until you were both safe inside the gates, tacking and brushing the horses in the stables. Until he bid you goodbye with a teasing smile that made your heart warm and your stomach flutter.

“You better bring that good looking ass to dinner later, ya hear me?” He said as he walked by the stall where you tended to Lowry. “Wanna see what the personal chef whips up.”

Tingly. You felt so tingly, even if all you had was two tumblers of amber liquid. One while cooking and one with dinner. Ellie had been glued to your side, the teenager eager to learn how to make something that wasn’t breakfast food. She had been attentive when you showed her how to carefully cube the meat to put on some skewers with onion and peppers. Mindful of keeping an eye on the potatoes as they boiled and maybe a little too enthusiastic in mashing them. But the meal was perfect, the sauce you whipped up a delicate balance of spice and tangy.

Bad puns shared at the table and Joel rolling his eyes more times than you could count. His smile so bright as he laughed and sneered in faux disgust at the really terrible ones. It had wound down, Ellie dipping out as clean up began, but neither of you had begrudge her for it. Friends calling on her for an evening in the mess hall, a movie to be played for the town.

Now a third one, on the couch in the living room of the man who surprised you as you spend more and more time with him. A fire crackling in front of you both, Joel down on his knees as he made sure it was fed enough to keep going.

With a huff, he plopped down onto the cushion beside you, causing you to dip into him from your own spot. The liquid splashed around in your glass and a small sound of surprise whooshed out of your chest as you tried to prevent your body from pressing up against him so completely. One of his hands wrapped around the wrist of the one you had placed on his shoulder to prevent it from happening. The other fixing itself on the back of your head to prevent you from butting against him. But he didn’t let go when your gaze snapped up to his face.

Something glinted in them, his breath puffing out in a hearty chuckle that vibrated through you. Your entire right side felt like it was on fire with the contact of him pressed close. The feel of his pants rough on the part of your thigh that had been exposed as the skirt of your dress rustled up at the movement, revealing that the cloth over your legs were thigh highs and not tights.

“Smooth, Miller.”

“Hush,” His lips quirked up in a smirk. His hand moving from your wrist to take the glass from you and set it beside his on the coffee table. His palm splayed on the exposed skin, and he was suddenly leaning even closer, pulling your legs over his lap completely. The fabric riding higher to expose the tops of your thighs to his searching eyes.

“Oh.” Your breath pushed from your chest at the action. Hand reaching to settle on the side of his neck, skin warm and startling heady thoughts to make your head swim. Make your stomach flutter and your pulse hammer. Bad, oh this was so bad. He was so close, he was so warm, so solid. He was practically curled over you, encasing you in his loose embrace. A warning that sounded more like a plea in the form of his name whispered. “Joel…”

“Hush.” He repeated, his nose bumping against yours as he leaned down. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, wondering if he could smell it on yours. His eyes flashed down to your lips, causing your heart to skip a beat, the brown of them almost eclipsed by how wide his pupils were blown. No doubt matching your own.

“W-we shouldn’t.” It wasn’t even an argument, not really. His top lip brushed yours, the feel of his mustache tickling magnifying the tingles cascading over your body. The smell of him, that heady cedar that made you inhale deeply, reveling in how much comfort it settled into your bones.

“Just, lemme in.” He rasped, lips brushing yours chastely. A shuttering breath giving away his own nerves. “Please.”

His need for clear consent, the feel of hands on you, of his body pressed up against you was all so dizzying. Your eyes fluttered shut, body absolutely humming. How could you deny him, the man who settled into your thoughts, made a space in your heart that only he could fill. How could you deny him when he smelled so good, felt so warm, asked so sweetly for the one thing you already wanted to give him.

Before you could even finish shaping your mouth around an ‘okay’, his lips were pressed fully against yours. Gentle, chaste, a tame thing.

You pulled back, breathing hard only after a few seconds, eyes flying open. His own were searching yours, his breath fanning over your face. Ensuring that you were okay, that you were still okay with it, with him. With this. A friendship shifting into unknown territory.

His fingers tangled in your hair, scrunching it and pulling it in just the right way to cause a groan to travel up your chest. Pleasure bolted through you, pushing you to reach out and wrap your hands around his neck, forward and into him. Lips crushing against his in deeper kiss as you shifted your legs in his lap, moving them to rest your knees on either side of his thick thighs. His hands gripped your waist, helping to pull you closer.

He moaned out as you settled over his lap, chest to chest, allowing for you to lick into his mouth. Gentle and careful giving way to desperate and urgent as you moved against each other with intention. You could feel the swell of him hard beneath you and you shifted your hips to press down, flush against him everywhere. Swallowing the groan he let out at the action, one of his hands moving underneath the skirt of your dress to-

“JOEL!”

“Fuck,” He growled, hands tightening on you as the sound of his name on a loud shout echoed down the dark street had you pulling away. Fast steps rushing toward the front of his house. The only warning before his front door slammed open, hitting the wall of the entry way. He captured your lips in bruising kiss as his name was shouted again inside the home.

Sighing, you rested your forehead against his, sharing air with him as he closed his eyes. His hands on you clenching as the moment effectively shattered.

Tommy’s form appearing in the doorway to the living room.

“Joel, it’s Maria. The baby- she, the baby’s co- oh!”

You knew how it looked, you pushing off from the older man, him sunken into the couch, both of you trying to catch your breath. The tension in the air, the fire crackling happily in the fireplace, the twin glasses of whisky on the coffee table. The way the skirt of your dress was wrinkled and on of your thigh highs shoved down by your ankle. Joel’s clothing no better, your hands having begun to unbutton the flannel donned. The obvious bulge he moved a hand over to try and hide from view.

“D-don’t.” You warned lightly, leaning down to pull the fabric back up your leg. Moving to put as much distance between you and the man you had just been all over like a teenager. Joel reached for you, aware of the watching gaze of his stunned brother. But you swerved, not allowing his fingers to graze you and shoved past Tommy.

“Olive-“ Joel tried to catch your eyes but you wouldn’t look at him, heart in your throat and stomach twisted up in knots. Tingly, you were still so tingly.

“I-I-I’ll see y’all….later. Tell Maria she can call on me if she needs anything!” And then you were shoving your feet into the unlaced boots, shrugging your coat on and taking off out the still open door into the cool night. Your heart didn’t stop racing even as you crossed the threshold into your own home a few streets over or when you stepped into a scalding shower. Or when your back rested against the cold tiles of the stall and you slid down to sit in the tub underneath the stream.

You just kissed Joel Miller.

It was supposed to be a good thing, you had wanted to, it had been all you could think about, the desire in the back of your mind all the time. But then why did you feel like you just made a huge mistake?

Tommy had come by a few days later, explaining that you would need to take his place on the longer routes Joel was assigned to. Sparse on the roster with so many to rotate the patrols with. Maria, now stable and back at home. A new baby boy to tend to and shower with love. His attention and focus needed here within the gates, not outside of them. His little brother’s worry and anticipation pulling a smile from him.

He had sat up with him far too late, assuring him that he was more than capable, that he was ready, that he would do just fine. The excited chatter had turned somber, memories of time so similar permeating the air and quieting the two men.

“I see you two, when you take off for patrol and when you come back. It’s the same when you’re with Ellie.” Tommy’s voice was low, nearly whispering as he confessed. “It’s the closest I’ve seen you look alive, look like you used to. Before.”

“She makes me feel like I’m alive.”

“She can pull a laugh outta me easy as can be, even if I’m a little pissed off with her.”

“Joel.” Incredulous, almost berating in tone, just his name. Nothing prefacing or following it and it irked him. To hear it spoken in such a manner by his younger brother.

“No, Tommy, no, don't just say my name like that. like it's a whole goddamn conversation that I should know about.”

“Just…be careful, brother. She doesn’t have a lot and I’ve noticed a difference in her since you rolled in.”

Joel recalled the way you had felt in his arms, pressed against him. And then how you had practically fled the scene, how you hadn’t been able to look at him afterwards. Careful, he agreed quietly. He had to be careful, for both your sakes.

Patrols were easy, neither of you mentioned the kiss. Or how one had turned into a handful, how gentle had turned into desperate. Going about the responsibility of ensuring the safter of the settlement like normal. Upon returning one day, Tommy had been waiting at the gates, almost buzzing with excitement as he prompted you both to take a piece of paper from jar. Citing that it was for the annual gift exchange of the holiday season fast approaching.

He felt bad for the relief he had felt when your name wasn’t the one scribbled onto his folded scrap of paper. The three planks of wood he managed to cut from the trunk drying out on his back porch. He checked on them each day before bed, inspecting them to ensure they were safe. One had already been lost to a disease that had rotted in the crack of the tree, seeping into that part of the trunk. He had just sat there with a tumbler of whiskey, lamenting the loss of it. The others wouldn’t be ready for months, he realized, as the holidays loomed on the horizon.

Just like he was doing now, thinking of the planks of wood on the other side of his house. It was one of the few moments he didn’t have anything pressing calling his attention so early, allowing him to take a moment to enjoy his coffee in the crisp air. The leaves were a myriad of colors, scattered along the streets and leaving the trees bare. He idly wondered if this was your favorite time of the year. And if it wasn’t, then what was?

“I know you got me.”

Joel startled where he sat on his front porch, coffee spilling from the mug he had a hand around resting on his knee. The soft voice breaking his reverie, his thoughts of you. But when he focused and looked up, it was Marsha who stood on the top step of his porch. Watching him with an entertained smile, eyes taking him in like she tended to do. He wasn’t blind, he knew the way she watched him. That she harbored a small liking to him, but he had never even thought to give into it. Even if it weren’t for the way she treated you and spread ill-notions of you around town, she wouldn’t be his type.

She had been here ever since the start, been here when the walls first went up and the town of Jackson was established. And he wished he didn’t feel a twinge of jealously and ire for it. But he was only human, someone who had to fight and claw and lose themselves in what the world became. Wishing it had all ended, would end when he lost more and more each day. Pieces of his heart shattering and pieces of his humanity ripped from him. But Marsha, her family, they hadn’t experienced that. And it allowed them to feel like it was completely normal to partake in gossip and petty vendettas.

He realized that being behind the walls allowed him to appreciate more what people endured outside of them. It wasn’t the woman’s fault she hadn’t had to fight for her life, that she hadn’t lost parts of herself to the world as it fell apart and tried to turn anything it could into a twisted version of its original self. It wasn’t her fault that she didn’t have to figure out who she was after it all. How to life with herself and the things the world drove her to do.

No, that was him. It was Tommy. It was Ellie. It was you. And she would never understand.

“I was thinking about how you scolded me, and while that was…intense.” The tips of her ears tinged pink, telling him more than her words what she had thought of the interaction. Focused on how his attention had been on her and not on the words he had meant with every fiber of his being. The need to protect you, to stand up for you when you wouldn’t do so overwhelming him in that moment.

“I did try but she…my daughter doesn’t agree…I might need a little more incentive.”

“Ma’am, I’m not interested in playing games.” Joel made to stand up and seek shelter inside, unwilling to take part in whatever the woman was up to.

“It’s not a game, Joel. I just…she did a lot of damage. It’s going to take more than one conversation to settle five years’ worth of tension.” She tried to argue, to explain. But he wasn’t having any of it, too tired for the circles she was bound to lead the conversation.

“You didn’t even apologize, she said you were cordial with her.”

“I…I know. But listen to me, if you agree to help me build shelves in the living room as my gift, I’ll work on shifting the way people talk about her. I’ll intervene or cut them off if they start up about her. I swear to you.” He did stand at that moment, his coffee gone cold and his morning taking a turn for the worst.

“You apologize to her and I’ll think about it. She’s a good girl, she doesn’t deserve the crap y’all put her through.” Joel set her with a look, hoping she understood how serious he was about all this. Because you truly didn’t deserve the status of outsider that you wouldn’t toss around but inevitably felt. You were good, to him, to the town, to Ellie, even to the people who talked behind your back. “You better make sure that whoever drew her name gets her somethin’, you hear me? Apologize to her, I’ll be by to get the dimensions tomorrow.”

Joel turned his back on the woman, not bothering to look over at her to ensure she agreed to his terms before he was safely back in his home. Sighing, he dumped the coffee into the sink and moved into his workspace, anxious and needing to relieve it until he had to begin crossing things off his list.

It’s slow, the way the crafted planks of wood crop up around the settlement. From the first one in Tommy’s kitchen to the one in the creators own. To the ones fawned over in each of the older women’s homes, a rather prominent subject to be heard over the hours spent tending the gardens. Many hands busy preening, clipping, removing, sifting the soil while many mouths form praise around his name: Joel Miller.

Autumn is pivotal time to cleanse the gardens, tend to the waning perennials, prepare and protect the soil to ensure its intact for next years plantings. It’s nearing the end of the season, a dense chill settling over the land and sticking. Much like the frost you can see glittering in the early mornings when you leave for patrol or to help in the mess hall. Hearty, nutritional stews and stocks your specialty provided in the times when fresh isn’t available. But you didn’t mind, it kept you busy.

But you could do without the dotting words of so many for a man who had become something complicated in your life. A kiss, a lapse of judgement that had made it so.

While Joel was ever the same out on patrol, with the sharing of coffee and trading of questions, it was beginning to shift within the town. You hadn’t been hurt before when his attention was pulled before he noticed you, but now having had some of it to yourself you begrudgingly acknowledged that it was beginning to.

Wanting to desperately to be folded into the community, into the social circles that were prevalent all around. And you didn’t like how much you wanted that, knowing it would never be so.

Marsha was hovering close, sitting next to him in meetings and in the mess hall when they both happened to be there. And it irked you, because you weren’t sure what was going on between them. It certainly wasn’t any of your business, but the way that he seemed to always be close to her despite his words of having talked to her about being nicer to you settled heavy in your gut. It was sticky and uncomfortable, to carry about the realization that perhaps…perhaps she had listened to him because they were together.

But just like the worn fabric of his back pockets, it was none of your business.

Neither of you asked about personal stuff like relationships or the nonexistent sex lives you led. Or thought you both led, but the difference in ages revealed a subject off limits apparently. Which was alright, Joel did have a decade or so on you. His beautiful curls a steel gray, while you were just beginning to find streaks of silver in your own hair, more prominent when it was pulled up and away from your face. But you had wanted to know if they were together. If you were being too out of line with your thoughts of the man, of how you felt like you could talk to him, ask him questions, like he was still yours while out on patrol.

And you would take what he would give you, even if it meant you were both acting like the kiss had never happened.

It was felt even more so, the isolation and lack of a personal life as the holidays loomed near. Joel busy now more than ever, that damned little spiral notebook with its never-ending list. Tommy and Maria deep in the life of being parents to a newborn. Even Ellie was smitten with her friends, laughing more and seeming to enjoy herself as she finally began to find her circle. The reality of having pulled Joel’s name for the secret gift exchange burning a hole in your back pocket.

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dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

taglist: @merz-8 @morning-star-joy @joelsgreys @orcasoul @sawymredfox @sabmat @dreamingofleon @keylimebeag @pascalpvnk @picassopedro @tuquoquebrute @alejaa-a @jessthebaker @littlemisspascal @joeloverture @joelscruff @swiftispunk @tightjeansjavi @undercoverpena @idontknowyou-12345 @corazondebeskar @honeyedmiller @novas-dreamworld @slugz-writes-shit @fluff-lover @hiroikegawa @dugiioh @persephone-girl @furiousmushroom@communism-bitches @formulafun @copperhalfcent @lizlil @hiddenbabynyc @ohhellotherebumblebee

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allthingswhumpyandangsty · 1 month

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character A and character B are enemies who are in fact idiots in love (but they’re such idiots they don’t know the feelings are mutual). one of them is drunk, so the other has to be sober in order to look after them. suddenly the drunk one prompts their enemy to play two truths and a lie with them. it’s fine, it’s just a silly game.

until one of the 3 choices provided is an outright love confession.

and of course, that damn confession isn’t the lie.

read a fic with this prompt here

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dumplingsjinson · 2 years

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List of “unrequited love but turns out!! it’s actually requited” prompts

“What, did you think I kissed you all these times because I was doing it for the shits and giggles?” “…Let’s be real, you did have a lot of fun shoving your tongue down my throat in public.”

“Oh my God, why are you crying? Does me liking you disgust you that much?” “No, you dumbass, it’s because you like me back but I spent all of this time thinking you’d never like me that way!”

“Look, we can pretend I never confessed if it means you’ll stay—” “What?! No! You can’t just take back your confession! That’s such a coward move and I’ll not allow that! Especially when I feel the same way towards you.”

“I’ll get over you. I promise. These feelings, they’re— they’re only temporary, I swear. I—I’ll get over you. Just please don’t leave me—” “Did you ever think, that maybe, I don’t want you getting over me? What if I don’t want these feelings to be only temporary? That maybe I... Like you, too?”

“I didn’t mean to fall for you.” “And neither did I.” “…Fucking pardon?”

“So according to _____, you’re in love with me, too?” “Oh, that fucking bast— wait, did you just say too?”

“You need to stop kissing me like you mean it; I’m going to read into things wrong and end up breaking my own heart.” “That’s because I do mean it every single time. You’ve just been too dense to realise.”

“Why are you apologising for liking me back?” “Because I don’t want to ruin— wait a second. Pause and rewind, what did you just say?”

“You don’t have to like me back, you know? I just wanted to let you know how I felt, that’s all.” “Well, too bad! Because these feelings are mutual, and now you can’t get rid of me.”

“Why are you lying to me? You can tell me the truth, it’s okay. I’m strong enough for the truth, I swear.” “What? I’m not lying to you! You’d think you’d pick up on the signs that I’ve been in love with you, for fucking forever, but apparently someone’s too obtuse to realise that!”

#unrequited love #requited love #dialogue prompts #writing prompts #otp prompts #angst prompts #fluff prompts #romance prompts #friends to lovers #mutual pining #pining #idiots in love #using my own ao3 tag in the title

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bri-cheeses · 2 months

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“Have you ever been in love?”

The question seems to take Evan by surprise. “What?”

Barty repeats the question, shifting up into a sitting position. His hands dig into the ground, still damp from last night’s rain. “Have you ever been in love?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, looking down at his feet, Evan quietly answers, “Yes.”

Suddenly, Barty is mad at himself for asking. He can’t even say why he asked in the first place; he simply had the thought, and being the impulsive person he is, he asked without thinking. Now he wishes he hadn’t, if only to have avoided this odd burning in his chest caused by Evan’s answer. And really, he should drop the topic, based on downcast tint to Evan’s response, but he can’t seem to let it go. So instead, he presses the issue.

“When?” he asks, looking intently at Evan.

At that, Evan looks to his left, purposely avoiding eye contact with Barty. He stubs out his cigarette on the grass next to him, a thin curl of smoke rising up from it as he does so. “A long, long time ago.” His voice is dark with something Barty can’t name.

“Did it end well?”

Evan cuts him a look. “Who said it ended?”

At his words, something twists inside Barty. Suddenly there’s a lump in his throat as he works to get out his next sentence. “Well, you said a long time ago. So I thought that it was a, uh, past thing.”

“Yeah. It was a long time ago. When I… fell in love.”

Barty knows he’s the one who started this conversation, but he really hates the way Evan says love in reference to some mystery person. At least he used past tense, though, meaning it’s a thing of the past.

“So what happened?” Barty questions.

“They didn’t want me in the way I wanted them. Still don’t want me that way.” There’s something bitter in Evan’s tone, and he’s gone back to refusing to look at Barty. In contrast, Barty stares at him intently. He feels as though he’ll be able to see through Evan’s exterior and into his insides, where all his secrets are hidden, if he only looks hard enough.

“Who was it?”

“Does it matter?” Evan’s voice is biting as he sharply turns his head back towards Barty.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Barty leans back onto his elbows, tearing his gaze from Evan. It’s almost comical how their positions have changed; now, Evan stares at Barty, and Barty looks out over the lake in an effort to avoid his gaze.

“It was no one important, okay?”

“Oh.” Something settles in Barty when he hears that, even if Evan’s tone contrasts with his dismissive words. “They were—still are—an idiot, though. Just for the record.”

Evan laughs in that disbelieving way of his, as if he’s sharing an inside joke with himself. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Barty says definitively. “I mean, you’re perfect. And whoever can’t see that is an idiot.”

“Perfect?”

“Yup.” Barty means it, too.

“Yeah, well,” Evan scoffs, “it isn’t good enough for them. So it doesn’t matter.”

“Well, you’re good enough for me,” Barty says hotly. “So don’t worry about that asshole. Because and me? We’re best friends, and you’ll always be good enough for me. You know that, right?”

Evan is avoiding Barty’s gaze again. He picks at the grass next to him, focusing on that instead. “Right,” he says somewhat bitterly.

“I mean it,” Barty insists. “You are.”

Evan looks at him, smiling sadly. “Thanks, Bee. But it’s getting cold. I think I’ll head back inside if that’s all right with you.”

“I—okay. Yeah, uh, sure.”

With that, Evan gets up and begins the walk back to the castle. Barty watches him go, thinking their entire exchange over.

He’s not entirely sure where the conversation went sour enough to get Evan to leave, but clearly something must’ve caused his abrupt departure. Even if Barty had thought he had said the right things to get Evan to cheer up again. He had meant what he said, too; Evan always would be good enough for him. Barty honestly couldn’t imagine a better best friend.

So Evan shouldn’t, Barty thinks heatedly, have ever been hung up on some asshole who couldn’t even see how amazing he is.

Barty continues to sit there, close to the shore of the lake, and watches Evan’s retreating form. And as he watches Evan reach up to wipe at his eyes, trying and failing to act like it was nonchalant gesture, he resolves to find out who Evan was talking about. And he’s going to make them, whoever it may be, pay for how they hurt Barty’s best friend.

#Barty you IDIOT #ugh #also Evan never said that it ended buddy #just that he fell in love a while ago (translation: Evan knows how to dodge questions)#also did u not notice that he kept switching between past and present tense #also Barty’s repeated insistence that Evan is perfect AS HIS BEST FRIEND #ah my heart #i want to grab Barty by the shoulders and shake some sense into him #i say that as if i’m not the one writing this #btw someone needs to take the angst away from me because i’m having wayy too much fun with it #rosekiller #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #slytherin skittles #marauders era #rosekiller microfic #my microfics

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feralforfrank · 1 year

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NOTHING'S GONNA HURT YOU, BABY.

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X FEM!READER

summary reader gets injured while looking out for the team and simon riley worries.

cw descriptive scenes of reader getting injured, cod canon violence, stab wounds & blood loss, worried!simon riley. angst!!!!! hurt with tiny bit of comfort (from simon to reader) NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER. tell me if i missed anything!

a/n is this deserving of a part two? does it feel rushed? is THIS really how i want to enter the cod mw2 fandom!?!! so many questions.

masterlist | taglist

"Ghost," you spoke his name in a hushed tone, mainly to hide from the enemy but also to hide the shake in your voice.

"I'm here, Owl. I'm coming to get ya." You could hear Ghost running, and you tried to focus on the sounds he made instead of the stinging pain on your thigh and side.

It was your fault. All of it. You were supposed to be on the roof, not on the goddamn ground. You're a sniper, for fuck's sake. But being above ground, you spotted two men making their way to where the team's getaway car was. You weren't allowing them to steal your vehicle, but if you shot at them, it would alert the others, and your position would've been compromised.

You knew how to fight. Although you never liked engaging the enemy face to face and your eyes were better used above ground, thus why you were a sniper and why they called you Owl, Ghost and Soap trained you to take down men as big as them.

The first man went down quickly, he was skinny, and you surprised him. He was gurgling on his one blood in seconds. The second guy pinned you to the wall. You took your second knife from your right thigh strap and pierced his stomach twice. He was slipping from your grasp when you felt the knife you'd used on him puncture your thigh.

You screamed. A shriek left your mouth before you could stop it. Your thigh throbbed as you landed a final blow on the side of the man's neck. You stumbled off the wall, blinking the tears and black dots away. You heard someone call your name through comms, but you didn't have time to answer.

The third man came behind you. He must've heard you scream. He circled his buff biceps around your throat and squeezed. Fight and flight kicked in. Andrenaline was pumping in your bloodstream, and, without thinking twice, you bit his bicep. Hard.

He cursed and moved away from you for a split second, and you got a chance to suck in a breath. You stumbled forward, but he caught you, spinning you around and pulling you so impossibly close.

At first, you didn't feel it. A shot rang out, and his body slumped forward, distracting you. The man was dead in your arms, and his blood had splattered on your face and continued spilling on your shoulder. Your head shot up to your station—that's where the gunshot had come from. Gaz asked you if you were okay. You tried to nod, and that's when you felt it.

Your ears started ringing. You stepped back, the man falling completely from your grasp and onto the ground. You choked on your breath. Your hand instinctively fell to your side and then rose in front of your face. You were bleeding from two places now.

Gaz called for you again, but you didn't answer. You felt dizzy, and as much as you tried blinking those black spots away, they just wouldn't go. You leaned against the wall. Ghost ordered your whereabouts, and Gaz answered him hurriedly, adding that he could see you losing consciousness. So, that's who shot from your position. Ghost confirmed that he was coming your way.

And that's how you ended up in this position.

"Please, hurry." Your cry of pain made the lieutenant's pace pick up.

Ghost always had some sort of a soft spot for you. Your kind-hearted, friendly nature and bubbly personality didn't help his growing infatuation. You were too sweet for your own good, and he swore your sarcastic comments directed mostly at Soap always managed to melt his heart.

The guys weren't oblivious—they could see how Ghost always stared at you. His hard eyes seemed to soften when looking at you. Actually, his whole posture changed when you were around. Ghost was always near you, a soft hand placed on your lower back and guiding you when you were in the dark during missions, and glances were thrown at you when you were too quiet to make sure you were doing okay.

Soap and Gaz had joked about his fascination with you, asking him why he never made a move. He'd shut them down and called them inappropriate before lowering his head to hide how flustered he felt. He thought burying those teenage sentiments at the very back of his mind would be the best. He's never been good at expressing his feelings, and for fuck's sake, he was your superior.

But as he heard your breath come out in gasps and Gaz telling him to hurry up through comms, he felt panic inside him. His steps became more urgent, and his grip on the gun tightened. He was almost there.

"Don't move. I'm coming to get you." Ghost's voice was filled with utter panic and anxiety, and he took a breath to get rid of the shake in his tone. "I'm almost there, darlin'."

Fuck.

He hadn't meant for that to slip out. He heard your breath hitch. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

He turned the corner, and there you were, slumped on the wall, holding your side with your palm and breathing heavily. He placed his gun in its holster and ran toward you. You collapsed with a groan, your forehead touching his vest.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I'm so sorry. They were—They were trying to escape with our c-car, and I couldn't let—I couldn't let them—" You gasped for breath as Ghost looked around at the dead bodies.

It was dark, but he could make out three silhouettes, definitely larger frames than yours, and they all lay dead in a puddle of their own blood.

"It's okay, it's alright, love. I'm here now. I'm not goin' anywhere." A soft whimper escaped your lips, and he felt your body give in to the fatigue caused by the blood loss.

Ghost picked you up, requesting the rest of the team to meet him at his location. The car was unlocked and untouched, and his heart swole with pride. You'd taken out three soldiers to protect the team and secure their getaway transportation.

You mumbled his name as he placed you in the backseat. He quickly got in, and pulled you in his arms again, one palm pressing on your wounded side and the other on your bleeding thigh.

Soap slipped in the driver's seat, Gaz following right behind him. "How's she doing, Lt.?" The former asked, glancing behind him once.

"She'll be fine if you move this goddamn car!" Ghost's tone was sharp, but Soap didn't take it personally.

"Where to, Ghost?" John asked.

"The safe house. Make sure no one follows us. As soon as we're in the clear, Gaz, you call Price. Tell 'im to send evac." Gaz nods curtly, followed by a yes, sir.

"Simon." You shift, snuggling closer to his body.

The frown on your face deepens. Simon looks down at you. His heart hasn't stopped its rapid beating, and worry mixed with panic is still swirling in his blood. He wants to tell John to hurry the fuck up, but he knows the soldier is going as fast as possible.

You whine in distress, your eyes blinking ever so slowly. Your ears ring, your gaze is unfocused, and your eyes are glassy with tears ready to fall.

"Shh, it's alright, love," Simon whispers. "You're goin' be okay."

"Am I dying?" You speak in hushed panic.

Simon shakes his head quickly from side to side as if your words burned him. "No, you're fine. Nothing that can't be fixed, okay? I can fix it." He's trying to convince himself more than he's trying to convince you.

"Are they after us?" He shakes his head again. "So, we're safe? I'm safe?"

"Nothing's gonna hurt you. As long as I'm here, no one's hurting you again, ya hear me?" The finality in his voice is the reassurance you need to soothe you.

You feel your eyes drooping again, and the ringing in your ears finally fades out. "Thank you, Simon."

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inefffablle · 2 months

Text

do you think aziraphale and crowley used to dance in the bookshop in the cozy evenings?

spinning vinyl or listening to the radio or even listening to performers outside?

spinning and laughing and clasping their hands together?

and do you think aziraphale still dances, alone now, to try and fill the void he has?

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eternalbuckley · 11 months

Text

Don’t push me away. — evan buckley

SUMMARY: You got a visit from your old friend, Kelly Severide that you didn’t know about. He was an old friend from back then when you still lived and worked in Chicago. Little did you know that this visit might cause a jealous Buck.

word count: 4,179

genre: angst with a happy ending | gn!reader, queer!reader, bipoc!reader and plus-size!reader friendly

warnings: angst, jealous buck, reader works as a nurse for kids (mentioned once or twice i think), severide and reader are friends but hooked up once (will be mentioned a few times), insecure buck (my poor baby), arguing, reader and buck raising their voices, use of pet name (babe), english is not my first language, hardly proofread — let me know if i forgot something!

a/n: i had to combine two of my favorite comfort shows and jealous buck. it was a NEED, might do it again in the future if i have enough ideas! but don’t worry: you can still read this story if you haven’t watched Chicago Fire! The story from there is not important for my story here, I‘m just using one of the characters! :)

a/n 2: And definitely bare with me for the length of this. It’s the longes fanfic I’ve ever written in my life. I actually had more ideas but didn’t know how to write them out. I hope you like it though! I am a true sucker for angst, I hope you get into your feeling with that story because I definitely did :‘) HAPPY READING!!

disclaimer: please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work or post this anywhere without my consent. do not translate my work and post it anywhere — i give you no permission to do that. i only post my stories here, so if you find my work anywhere else please let me know! reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated and welcomed!

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(not my gif, credits to the owner!)

Buck wasn’t supposed to react this way. He didn’t want to but he was scared because he didn’t want to lose you, again. He almost lost you months ago because of his insecurities that resulted into pushing you away. Buck didn’t want to end anything that he had with you like that but it happened again. And everything just because one of your old friends surprised you with a visit. Buck knew who your friend was. Kelly Severide.

You used to know him from work when you still lived in Chicago and you two grew close over time. One time it ended up in a hookup but it was after a heavy breakup from your former partner and Kelly was freshly out of a relationship as well. You were there for each other and it just happened but you didn’t decide to go further into that and stay with a close friendship. No weird or uncomfortable feelings. Kelly even helped you to pack your things after you decided to move away from Chicago to Los Angeles.

You sure did love Chicago even with its own thing that happened here and there. You loved the friendships you formed at work and in private. You even grew close over time with the other firefighters from Kelly’s work. But it was time for something new and Los Angeles was your decision. After your move, you needed some time to settle in. After all, you knew no one in this big city and it got you thinking of moving there and leaving everything behind you was the right decision.

But after you met Hen and Chimney you knew it was the best decision you ever did. You met them both at a bar giving out some drinks. They got you one as well and you ended up talking the whole time about each lives. You found out that both of them were firefighters at the 188 and you were looking for a job as a nurse. You knew you wanted to keep working as one since you liked it in Chicago. Especially if you were able to look after the kids there. Sure, it wasn’t always easy times but you wanted to help people and that was a good place to do it.

The three of you exchanged numbers and they invited you to come over to the 118 whenever you want to come over. After a few days you decided to visit them there and you got to know everybody else. Including Evan Buckley. Your now-boyfriend. You grew close with everyone and they welcomed you with much love. Especially your favourite person on earth, also known as your boyfriend. You started as friends and over the time you started hanging out together. Only the two of you and one day you asked him out on a date. With the help of Hen and Chimney actually.

They both noticed the admiring, stolen glances and heart eyes you and Buck gave each other when the other one wasn’t looking and they knew they had to do something. Buck finally needed to be happy again, after everything that happened with Taylor. From time-to-time Hen and Chimney started teasing you or Buck whenever you were alone with them. Or they teased both of you when you were in the same room. The blushed faces of you and Buck were the win of it for them and they knew they were on the right track.

You asked him out once you were alone. Well technically alone because you were sitting outside with him while the rest including Athena and her family were inside of her house getting ready the dinner. Before that Chimney and Hen were sitting with the both of you. Both of them shot you many glances towards Buck for you to finally ask him out because they knew he wouldn’t do it. He always told them 'They don’t like me in that way. They would never.' He was an idiot who was in love. That‘s why you had to make the first move. After gaining enough courage you gave them a glance to leave and they did.

You and Buck were talking about different stuff and after a comforting time of silence, you looked at him and asked him out. You were afraid he wasn’t ready to date again, after Taylor. But you had to shoot your shot, you didn’t want to gulp down your feelings anymore. You felt the most comfortable around Buck and he made you happy. He was your safe place. And you were his. He was blushing and told you he was waiting for this moment.

And in that very moment, you realized that it was the best decision to move to Los Angeles and make a fresh start. Because that‘s where you found your second family and the love of your life. Since then and many dates with Buck it has been two years. You recently moved in with Buck after he asked you to move in and you loved every second you were able to spend with each other. It has been over a year now since you asked him out.

It was a big surprise for you to see Kelly at your doorstep and smiling at you after you opened the door. You didn’t expect him there and especially not at this time. It was your day off with Buck and you wanted to spend it with him inside and some movies. So Buck wasn’t entirely fond of the sudden visit but he was happy for you. Kelly greeted him and apologized for interrupting any plans you might have had. You were happy to see your friend after some time again. You haven’t seen each other in a few months, perhaps it almost had been a year since you visited him and your other friends in Chicago. You missed them but everything that mattered was that you were happy. Here in Los Angeles, with Buck.

“I wanted to see where you live, Y/N/N. You’ve been telling us so much about this city, now it’s your turn to show me everything.” Kelly teased after you asked him what he was doing here. He still hugged you and you let him.

Your eyes went to Bucks who had a smile on his lips. He knew how much Kelly meant to you. The three of you spend the whole afternoon together. After a shower and getting ready, you went out with your friend and boyfriend. But the energy from Buck slightly shifted but you didn’t know why. And you didn’t ask him, you would have done it later. But you didn’t. You didn’t want to accuse Buck of anything and let it stay like that. Little did you know that you would actually regret this later.

Two days later you and Kelly visited Buck at the station. A place where Buck didn’t want to see him if he was being honest. He was already intrigued that he was at your shared home but seeing him at his workplace, knowing he was a firefighter too was something that made him feel not very good. But Buck wanted to be the good boyfriend he is and gulped down his feelings, he knew how happy you were having Kelly around but he was jealous about how happy he actually made you.

Bobby sensed how uncomfortable Buck looked and decided to have a talk with him in private. Buck told him everything and that he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to make you happy and if that meant having Kelly around, he‘d have to accept it. He wasn’t jealous of your friendship with him but about your past and it just made him more insecure about perhaps losing you. You were the light of his life. You made him the happiest person on earth and he didn’t want to lose that.

At the same evening, you sat together with Buck and ate dinner together. You just brought Kelly to the airport and said your goodbyes. Of course, you were sad but now you had more time again to spend with your boyfriend.

"Babe?" Buck mumbled while he poked in his food and looked up at you.

You didn’t look up to him because you were too focused on eating but after he mentioned your name again you immediately looked up.

"Did you hear me?" He asked, slightly upset but he didn’t show it.

You shook your head. "I‘m sorry, no. Is everything okay?" You asked him, not sensing what would happen in the next few minutes.

The look on his face was serious and something was hiding behind his eyes. You knew that. "Not really."

You gulped down the food and worry entered your body. "Tell me what‘s wrong, babe," You tried to take his hand but he put his away. You put your eyebrows together, "Buck, what’s wrong?"

You started imagining all the different potentials that he could say at that moment. Many good ones but a lot of bad ones. What if he decided it wouldn’t work out between you two? What if he regrets it to let you move in with him? What if…

"We need to talk."

Yep, you were sure he would break up with you. You only nodded your head, slowly. You weren’t sure what you should say, so you let him talk.

"A-about Kelly."

You were confused. "What? Why? Did he do something?"

"Not exactly I-" He stuttered.

"Then what‘s the problem?" You interrupted him. You knew you should have let him finish whatever he wanted to say but you got into this defensive mood.

He sighed, not entirely knowing how to continue this. And seeing the stern look on your face made him regret that he even started to talk about it. Buck got up and took the plates to put them in the sink, you followed him.

You put one of your hands on his arm and turned his body to you. "Tell me what‘s on your mind, Buck."

He shook his head. "It‘s nothing. Just forget."

"You know I won’t. Tell me. Don’t push me away." You looked up to him, hoping he would give in and tell you what was going on in his mind.

"I don’t really like him, okay?!" He told you and you took a step back. Not knowing what to say.

"Why?”

He sighed and held the bridge of his nose. "I- I don’t like him. He‘s.." He stopped and looked at you. "He‘s an asshole."

"And you think that for what exact reason, Buck?" You laughed in disbelief and turned around. You went back to the table to clean it.

He didn’t like that you continued to call him ‘Buck’. Sure, it was his name but you barely used this name for him. Mostly you always used pet names for him unless you were talking about him with someone else obviously. But that you were using his name showed the importance of the current topic.

"I don’t like how he slept with so many peo-"

"Just like you did, Buck." You interrupted him. You couldn’t believe he was acting this way, especially right now. He could’ve said something earlier. Maybe before Kelly left Los Angeles. But that he was using this was the irony in itself.

Buck stopped talking and looked at the back of your head. He regrets that he even mentioned Kelly. He sighed and needed to find a way how to stop this conversation.

"If you‘re really upset about this then just forget it, Buck. It‘s in the past and I don’t care." You didn’t want to argue but you both were too upset at that moment. He didn’t say anything and just looked at you after you finally turned around again.

You sighed and continued talking, "I don’t blame you for having sex with so many people before we got into this relationship, so why is that such a problem for you?" You slightly raised your voice.

"Because of you, Y/N! Because he slept with you! That’s my problem, okay?! You and he had sex together," He admitted. His voice matched your tone now.

You looked at him, lips pressed into a thin line. "How do you-" You were confused. You didn’t tell him that but that’s when it all sense for you.

Buck obviously found it out because of Kelly himself. There was no other way because only he knew about it. You remembered how Buck started acting distant after he and Kelly sat alone together while you were in the shower. It was the same day Kelly surprised you with his visit. After you came back from your shower Buck's energy towards you and especially Kelly shifted. Now it all made sense.

"It doesn’t matter. That‘s in the past, o-okay? It never meant a thing." You tried to assure him. After all, it was the truth.

"But it does to me. It matters to me because I see how close you are and I have no idea what exactly happened between the both of you. I see how happy he makes you in a way I can never do." His voice got quieter with each word. Tears were slowly building up in his eyes but he quickly blinked them away.

You came closer to him and shook your head. "Yes, he makes me happy," You told him and put your hands on Buck's face, "But not as happy as you make me. Whatever happened between Kelly and me years ago doesn’t mean anything to me or him. He is married to a wonderful woman. And I am happily in a relationship with you. The only one I care about is standing in front of me and that’s you, Buck. I don’t care about anyone that much like I care about you."

Buck sighed, he was insecure. "But it could happen again."

Your face completely fell, just like your hands. "What did you just say?" You stepped away from him. Tears building up in your eyes. You shook your head, hoping he didn’t say that. "I can’t believe you just said that.”

Regret was written on Buck’s face. He gulped and wanted to take back everything he said in the past minutes.

“You think that Kelly is an asshole? How about you take a look in the mirror, Buck? Because the only asshole I see right now is just you." You said.

Buck gulped. He didn’t mean to say these words, it just happened. "I- I didn’t mean that. It just came out. I-"

He came closer to you but you held out your hand. Signing to him to stop his moves and he immediately did. Tears were building up in his eyes even more now. He didn’t want to lose you. But what if it was already too late for that?

"I can’t do this right now." You whispered.

"Please…" He whispered as well but you took your jacket and walked to the door. "Don’t leave."

You faced the door and didn’t dare to turn around. Because you knew that if you did you would break down crying.

"I didn’t mean it, babe. I‘m just-"

You deeply breathed in and had to take a moment. "I‘ll be sleeping at Hen‘s place tonight. We should step away from each other for now. To… To think about what just happened here." You left the apartment and after the door closed behind you, all that was left was Buck crying. He couldn’t sleep that night and the following nights were even more horrible.

After Hen saw you crying at her door, she immediately let you in. Karen and Hen were there for you. They always were whenever you needed someone to talk to. They let you stay at their house for the next few days and didn’t pressure you into talking. That you were staying at Hen’s house resulted in: her sending diggers into Bucks back at work. She knew what he said to you and wasn’t pleased with that. But she didn’t confront him about it, only because you begged her not to do it. Hen didn’t want to cause more harm into this but Buck knew that you probably told her what happened between you and him. He wanted to talk about it with her but whenever Buck tried to approach her, a new call sent them to an incident.

Buck was devastated. His energy wasn’t the same anymore since you left. Neither at work nor certainly not at home. All he could think about was you. Even more than usual. He needed to fix whatever was left between you. Buck didn’t and couldn’t lose you, just because of his jealousy and insecurities. You were everything to him. You were his safe place.

——————

It was late in the evening. Buck was with Christopher and Eddie in the apartment of you and him. Eddie came over with Chris to cheer him up and get him on different thoughts. That’s what Eddie told Buck but there was a completely different reason why he came over. Sure, they were there to cheer Buck up but after all, it was just because of you. It had been a few days since the argument between Buck and you. Not to forget to mention that you haven’t put a foot in your home since then. Only when you knew Buck wasn’t there as well. Thanks to Hen or Eddie texting you at work or when they were in Buck’s near and making sure you didn’t have to see him. You needed the time to think and make your decisions. You knew you’d forgive Buck but you were still anxious about confronting him about it. You knew he’d give you all the time you would need but you didn’t want to let him wait forever.

Buck and Eddie were currently watching Chris in the living room while he played one of his video games on the TV. Usually, you’d sit there with them and either play with Chris together or talk with the two men. Eddie was talking some sense into Buck's mind to fix this with you. He told him that everything would be fine and that you just needed time. Buck just didn’t know how he could fix this. Should he approach you at Hen’s house? Should he approach you at work? Or should he wait it out and hope that magic will fix this between you?

But luckily none of this had to be done because the next thing Buck heard were your keys opening the door. And there you stood. Nervous in the middle of the door. Your eyes met his. His eyes were filled with worry and regret. Yours were filled with sadness but love. You slightly smiled but it was more like your try to not be so nervous. You closed the door behind you and eventually looked at Eddie who was standing next to Buck.

"Hi, Eddie." You greeted him with a smile which he returned.

Eddie drank down the rest of his beer and called Chris so they could go. He already knew that you wanted to talk with Buck tonight, that‘s why he was here. You knew how much Chris meant to Buck, which is why you begged Eddie to be there and calm him down. You weren’t angry at Buck, just disappointed in him and yourself. Eddie agreed into helping you but didn’t tell Buck about it. Overall, you were happy to have such amazing friends.

"Chris and I just wanted to go," Eddie smiled and saw Buck's pleading eyes not to go.

Buck was scared but this didn’t faze Eddie at all. He just patted his shoulder. "You‘ve got this, bud." He whispered to him and called Chris.

You put off your jacket and watched Chris coming over to the three of you. His face instantly lit up after seeing you and he immediately hugged you after he was at your side.

"Hi there," You smiled down at him and hugged him back.

After saying your goodbyes to Eddie and Chris, they left you alone with Buck. A few minutes passed by.

"So..." You both said at the same time and ended up chuckling together. The air in the room was still awkward. Especially because you were still standing in the kitchen but so far away from each other that it might hurt but neither you nor him dared to step closer to each other.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N." He told you.

You nodded your head. "I know, Buck,” you bit down on your lower lip. “I am sorry as well. I shouldn’t just have left without calling you. The past few days have been-“

“Horrible.” You both said at the same time again. You both shared sad smiles with each other.

You looked at Buck with tears in your eyes. “I think we should have a talk.”

Buck's legs were like jelly after you said those words. Saying he was scared was an understatement. He was terrified. You both stepped a few inches closer but there was still a distance between you.

"I‘m not angry at you, okay? I‘m just.. I don’t know. Disappointed," You began, your voice and lips were trembling. "Not just at you. I’m disappointed in myself." You admitted and took a deep breath.

He put his eyebrows together and shook his head. "There‘s no need to. I understand if you‘re disappointed in me but-" He moved his body forward to you.

"I should have told you about my past with Kelly. About what happened back then and that I indeed had sex with him. If I would have told you the truth in the first place, then we wouldn’t have fought."

Buck slowly nodded his head, he didn’t want to interrupt you and let you continue to talk.

"When I tell you that it meant nothing, then it‘s the complete truth, okay? At the time when Kelly and I slept together, he just got out of a serious relationship and I…” You took a small pause.

“I basically had an identity crisis," You chuckled. "He and I had way too many drinks in our bodies and it just happened but it meant nothing. We don’t even talk about it anymore because it’s in the past." You looked at Buck with much love.

Buck realized he was an idiot, maybe a bit too late but hopefully not too late. "I‘m an idiot."

"Yes, you are. A very jealous idiot.” You agreed but smiled at him. “But I understand. I was once a jealous idiot as well because of you."

"What do you mean?" Now it was his turn to be confused.

You looked down, embarrassed of your next words. "I was jealous because of Taylor and you. Back then when we started to get to know each other all you had on your mind was her. And I was utterly jealous of that.” You looked back up to him. He was now closer to you. “Because I wanted to be the one you talk about like that. The one you look at with so much love and the one you‘re happy with. You have no idea how jealous I was when you told me that you both are together. I saw this as a sign to take a step back from you and that was also the reason why we stopped seeing each other so much." You sighed.

"And when you broke up with her, I was so happy. I could have used this for my own good but I didn’t because I knew what you needed was a friend. And then we just happened after we grew closer again."

He smiled at you now. "And now we‘re here. One year later."

You nodded your head. "I admit what you said hurt me a lot-"

"And I will regret this for the rest of my life. I was in the wrong place for reacting the way I did. I admit I was jealous and hurt that I had to find it out because of him and not from you. But I could have approached you differently. I’m so sorry, babe." You had tears in your eyes, one rolled down your cheek which he immediately wiped away. " I‘ll make sure to show you every single day how sorry I am for saying this and accusing you of-"

You hugged him without saying anything and he wrapped his arms around you to keep you close. You needed this. You needed to feel his warmth again. You missed him too much. And he needed it as much as you did.

"Please don’t ever leave me." You whispered.

"I could never," He kissed the side of your head. "And I would never. You‘re the love of my life."

You looked up to him. “And you’re the love of my life, Buck. And I couldn’t imagine a life without anymore.” As a reply, he kissed you with much love and desire he felt for you.

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