#most of the others were just one-off jokes about how he died

[bunnys-kisses]

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა a butcher au - max verstappen ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

max could've been a lot of things. but he was very good at cutting meat. those curious blue eyes didn't flinch at the sight of guts and blood. he simply worked and he in turn lived a happy life. in a way it got certain frustrations out, that he was never a good driver. when he craved up meat for sale at the small shop he worked at, in the apron and heavy gloves, he liked that no one recognized him. the weight of expectations didn't fall to heavily, instead he got thanks yous and no one praying for his downfall. he did have favorite customers though. the old nonnas who came in who were very particular, but always left heavy handfuls of change in the glass tip jar. the love sick man trying to win of a new woman of the week with his attempt at fine dining. and you.

you had lived out in the small town near the italian and french border for a few months now. an aunt of yours had died almost a year ago and you get saddled with the small property she owned. you took it as a chance to go somewhere else, having lived in the bustling city in another part of the world. so, the small town life was nice. and every week you'd come in and see max. he was always happy to see you. he'd often say to you, "i think i have something better in the back." before he flashed you a smile and headed to find a better cut.

he liked you, there a fondness he carried for you. you were just very polite and sweet. your grasp on both italian and french was a little rusty, but max was helpful as he wrapped up your order and told you to have a nice day. over the months you became comfortably familiar.

while max was comfortable at a distance, he was surprised when he heard your voice from the front. he looked down at himself, elbow deep in an animal all morning... staining the front of the apron and the gloves he wore. there was even specs who knew what on his upper forearms. "shit." he sighed to himself. he knew that his job required getting a little dirty, but he didn't want the beautiful woman who came in every week to see him look like a serial killer. he quickly took off the apron and gloves (even attempting to pick the dried blood off his arms) before he went to see you. you were at the front with other groceries in hand. you were just in yesterday. he looked at you with a little confusion. and you simply smiled. you placed two sunflowers wrapped in last weeks newspaper on the counter near the cash register.

you couldn't look him in the eyes when you asked him, "i couldn't wait for you to make the first mood, max. but... would you like to have dinner with me?"

max picked up the flowers, they looked beautiful even in the somewhat bad lighting of the butcher shop. he looked to you, your smile had dropped and you looked nervous. while max was wrapped up in receiving flowers and your request, he realized he hadn't said anything. he put the flowers down and took you by the hands across the counter and said, "yes! of course!"

you ended up having dinner with max at your home a few nights later. you two had been texting over the course of those days. and while he found himself comfortable messaging you. being in your home felt nerve wracking, he hadn't been on a date since he left his home town after he turned eighteen. but, you looked beautiful in the kitchen. making sure that everything was perfect for dinner. occasionally his eyes would scan over your form as you worked in the kitchen. you seemed to natural there. the way you prepared the sausages in the pan (the ones he sold you days prior) made max feel more at ease. there was a joke there about you knowing how to prepare meats. while most of the time he simply ate vegetables when he got home, after being around cut up animals for hours on end made him want to eat a stalk of celery by the time he got home. but to see someone so beautiful work a kitchen marvelously and the end result being something so beautiful.

"i made these rolls earlier today." you said as you brought the bowl with some on there, "i'm not the best baker ever. i'm pretty sure i can't compete with the place a few doors down from you." you laughed as you turned back to around to grab the pot of stew that you finished.

max eyed you behind as you walked away and was already in love.

you returned with dinner in hand, oven mitts protecting your hands from the hot surface of the pot. it smelled good. it smelt like home. and it made max feel warm all over as if his body wasn't heated from the warm summer night. you smiled when you sat across from him then clinked your wine glass with his, "to the first date in a long time." and max took a sip, he got lost in your eyes for a moment. and there was little room for dessert when you pulled max into the bedroom. the bed frame creaked as he was almost pushed onto it. you stood in front of him and he wrapped his strong arms around you then kissed at your clothed middle.

the clothes came off and he saw you eye his chest for a moment. he almost wanted to recoil a little from the attention. he wasn't built like a statue. he was strong for years of lifting things around the shop and walking to and from home every morning. but before he could say anything or move, you ran your hands down his chest. feeling his soft skin under your palms then said, "holy shit, this is what's been hiding under those aprons you wear." he looked away for a moment felt heat in his cheeks before you pulled him by his chin into a heated kiss.

you got max onto your back and straddled his waist. you watched him swallow before you kissed him along the neck and collarbones. your rubbed yourself up against his abdomen and shuddered from the stimulation of your clit. max clutched onto the covers under him and you went in for another searing kiss. it was perfect, you were perfect. your movements were slow, feeling him up against you. it was teasing for both of you until you got yourself seated on his cock. which made him tense up and feel a flare of his across his body. your hands on his strong shoulders for leverage as you moved up and down. max shuddered and his swallowed hard, "shit. please." he said as you moved against him. you replied, "you feel so good. i'm surprised no one else has tried to pick you up in town." you giggled, the heat in your cheeks was heavy. he simply held onto your hips and started to work alongside you, letting the pleasure bubble up, "i get nonnas and their granddaughters visiting from overseas. usually they are too scared to talk to me. or i'm too scared to talk to them. they see the blood or the animal in the back and get scared." maybe it wasn't polite to talk about work while he was fucking you, but you didn't seem to complain. he found that you didn't flinch at how the sausages were made in the shop. he clutched further onto your soft hips. his hands were used daily for taking apart the meats that arrived. he was usually in the back carving like he was making a masterpiece. the anatomy of the beast burned into his head. but while he held you, his touch was full of tenderness.

he wasn't trying to carve himself into your skin, he wanted to make you feel good. he wanted to be good in your world, and as sweet moans left your lips he knew that he was doing just that. he looked up at you with those blue eyes, the pupils a little wider from the heat in his body. the euphoria that was a drum in his chest as he continued to meet your pace. he then added, "plus, now i have no reason to talk to them. not when i have you." you blushed a little bit, looking away for a moment as he did earlier before you leaned in and kissed him on the lips. your hands splayed across his chest as you worked along his cock. up and down as a fire burned in your belly.

you two kissed once more as you pace started to stagger. you felt the heat become fuel in your blood as you worked his cock. he felt like a dream, an utter euphoria that you couldn't put into words. you had been with others before. but in the low light of the home you now owned with a man you met by chance while living in this small town. there was a certain niceness to it. a comfort you longed for while stuck on packed buses or falling asleep during meetings on a year prior. in the warm heat of the summer, you felt good as you moved against him. so long tinder, so long bumble, you met the man of your dreams while he was covered in blood, whose hands worked diligently every day to deliver the finest cuts of meat. not only to you but to large portions of the town. maybe it was love right off the bat, regardless you felt a warmth in your chest for him.

you kissed once more as you both loss the rhythm, soon you finished with a moan against his lips and he followed soon after. he clutched onto your hips tightly as you continued to thrust on top of him. eventually the pleasure flooded your brain and you slowed down to a stop. the kiss was broken and you both panted heavily. max cupped your face for a moment ans said something you couldn't quite pick up, but you responded with, "right back at ya." between heavy pants. and max knew it was love.

you soon laid in bed with the butcher, curled up against him. both feeling the after shivers of climax. you felt comfortable in the crook of his shoulder and your face up against his softer chest. you could tell he was strong, but wasn't opposed to homemade cooking.

he lazily took your hand in his other one and kissed across the knuckle. he sighed against your fingers, rubbing them up against his cheek soon after, "if this is a ploy to get a discount

you looked at him and chuckled, "damn, my plan is ruined."

he chuckled, "i'll need a few more homemade meals before i can do that. don't want the little nonnas to think they can seduce me into better prices." then kissed your hands once more.

you sighed and pressed further into him, feeling a sense of comfort in his arms, "next time i'll bring more than flowers."

he simply laughed, but in the back of his mind he thought, don't bring me a ring. that's my job. and maybe it was a little bit too soon to jump to that next step. but, as he held you in his arms it felt like a perfect piece. he wouldn't mind giving you discounts, of course if you were married then it would be free. but as he kissed the top of your head and heard your breathing level out and eventually fall asleep, it felt nice. it felt like home.

[thebreadwing]

I just went through a somewhat unexpected nostalgia binge. 2017/2018 batim youtube was COMPLETELY different than today's. Most of it is now covered up by gacha videos, but I was able to find a few that I cleanly remembered. The angst, the outdated, and the aged like fine wine.

[xinganhao]

📒 svt when reader journals about them.

@hannie-bees → "Svt finding out abt the journal you made about your memories of them like when you go on dates or candid pics you took without them knowing ???"

⌗ ┆the bujo spreads were taken from pinterest, and most came from @_thatskioshi on instagram! <3

‧₊˚✩彡 includes: established relationship, pet names, fluff, a kms joke, one too many 'oh my god's, [short] headcanons under the cut. open to requests!

📒 headcanons .ᐟ

— would tease you about it ✩ jeonghan, junhui, wonwoo, chan.

jeonghan and chan are not about to let you live this down. sure, they appreciate your work and they're hopelessly endeared by your cuteness. but you don't have to know that. instead, they fall back on joking around. jeonghan would probably proudly refer to himself as your 'bias', while chan goads you for having a crush on him. they're a little annoying about it, but it's only because they don't know how to properly express just how much this little hobby of yours means to them. junhui is a bit of somewhere in the middle. he'll have a wisecrack (or two) about your pages, but he's ultimately more openly appreciative of what he considers to be genuine art. he'll start begging you to make him copies or collages for his own keeping. if you comply, he'll have one in his wallet at all times, to look at whenever he misses you. wonwoo's teasing is a lot more pared down compared to the others. it's still there, though. his little remarks about taking photos on dates for your 'wonu book' (his words, not yours). as much as he'll tease you about it, there's also a quiet air of affection around him. he'll be more willing to pose how you want him or to dress in certain clothes if it means it will make you happy with the pages you end up doing.

— would be chill about it ✩ seungcheol, jihoon, minghao, vernon.

seungcheol is smug. of course he is. he's proud, even, when he sees how much time and effort you've put in to these little pages of him. he's likely to encourage it in the form of more cute stationery, to the point that you'll have to beg him to stop getting you stuff. he'll joke to you that it's an investment— the equivalent exchange being that he now has to see all your future pages, too. jihoon gives off the air of someone who doesn't really seem to care about what you consider to be an embarrassing secret. inwardly, he's impressed. he's an artist himself, after all, and he knows how much goes in to creating. but what will really get you is when you realize he's not joking about the song-after-every-date. he'll write anything from a full track to a couple of verses. if you have your journal, he has his composition book with your name at the very front. minghao and vernon will be similar in the sense that they're both appreciative of your effort, as well as the artistry of the pages. minghao is likely to comment on the little details of your spreads while vernon will ask all the right questions to learn more about it. they won't bug you about it moving forward, though there's a private sort of contentment to them that this is something you do for/because of them.

— would not be chill about it ✩ soonyoung, mingyu, seokmin.

oh, these three. soonyoung will scream about it to literally everyone. he acts almost like no one has ever done this for him before. when you try to point out that he probably has fans who does this on the daily, he takes personal offense. because this is you. him from your perspective. and he'll talk about it until the day he dies, he swears. in tagalog/filipino, there's an untranslatable word called kilig. the closest that people have come to translating it is 'cuteness aggression', though kilig runs much deeper. that's exactly how mingyu feels when he finds out. he'll squish your cheeks, bombard you with kisses, hug you until you can't breathe. he loves you so much in that very moment, in the knowledge that you feel a fraction of what you feel for him. and seokmin, the sweetheart :( you'll probably have to check in on him because he'll be inconsolable. you're dating; he knows that. you love him; he knows that, too. but to have a physical, tangible reminder of it? to hold proof of that love in his hands, in the form of a carefully curated journal? he'll cry you a river over just how grateful he is to love well and be loved well.

— would want to participate ✩ joshua, seungkwan.

best believe that mr. arts and crafts joshua hong would immediately be on board. of course, he's largely appreciative of your effort, but he's also mostly keen on picking up this little hobby with you. he'll be infuriatingly good at it, too, with his eye for color and his attention to detail. it will become a new 'thing' for the two of you, to log your dates this way. seungkwan has a lot less finesse. he doesn't really know what he's doing, but his enthusiasm makes up for it. he's more likely to end up with a lot of stray stickers and pen marks on his palms. at the end of the day, he wants to make good on his word: you deserve to be seen from the perspective of someone who loves you, too.

[rin-may-1103]

Just a Bite.

Master Post | Next

Danny stared out at the busy street from behind his dumpster.

or well, not his dumpster, but it might as well be his considering how many nights he's spent sitting behind it like some rabid raccoon.

Two months ago, he would have been sleeping in his own bed. His glow-in-the-dark stars vaguely lighting up his room in soft luminescent colors. The sound of Jazz snoring in her sleep just a room over, his parents still milling around in the basement.

he would have just finished fighting the box ghost and collapsed onto his bed, the sound of his home lulling him to sleep.

Oh, how things can change in a blink of an eye.

No, instead of sleeping on his bed with his cartoon ghost sheets and NASA poster covered room, he's out here in some random dirty city, sleeping behind dumpsters.

dirty, grimy, rusty dumpsters.

"did you hear?" some lady dressed in a light blue summer dress asked, turning to look at her friend as they started to walk past. "Mr. Wayne donated another lump sum to that charity." she huffed, shaking her head like she had just said the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard.

her friend stopped in the middle of the alley opening, her graying hair splaying in an ark as she twisted to face the other women. "my word! again? what the hell is that man thinking?"

the woman huffed, then smirked in amusement. "it's like he's shouting for the world to hear how desperate he is for attention. he thinks if he donates enough money to those scoudrails they'll love him or something. With how he's acting lately, it's like he wants all the street rats to barge into his home asking for money, food, and clothes."

her friend clicked her tongue in disgust, "I'd believe it. he has so many kids now, it's like he's running an orphanage. someone, anyone really, with black hair and some tragic story could walk right in and not even be noticed. they'd blend right in with the others."

"I heard it's genetic, his father was the same way before he met Martha. Bruce's blood son, Damian I believe, acts just like his father. the boy's been spotted taking stray cats and dogs inside. It wouldn't surprise me if the paper posted about him convincing his father for another sibling at some point."

the women then turned and started to walk away, their conversation slowly bleeding into the surrounding city ruckus.

Danny leaned back, resting his head against the crumbling brick behind him.

walk right in and not be noticed? wouldn't that be grand. He had heard of Mr. wayne and his gaggle of black-haired children. What were their names again? he could have sworn Sam told him before, in one of her rants about rich society.

Richard Grayson was the first, Danny remembered because Tucker had been making none stop dick jokes for a few hours. Danny didn't understand why the man would willingly go by Dick, but then again, who was he to question someone's name when he fights ghosts like Skulker and Technis on a daily basis?

Next was... Jason? Sam had mentioned there was a whole conspiracy theory of how his death was a cover-up. how all the unsolved crime community swore it was Bruce who killed the kid, that or the kid had some terminal illness that Bruce didn't want the media to know about.

thennnnnn-

Danny glanced around, trying to dig through his memories of Sam's rant. Dick: the orphaned circus act taken in the night his parents died. he's romanie? maybe, Danny wasn't too sure on that one. Jason: taken off the streets, one of his parents was out of the picture and the other one died of a drug overdose.

and then there was..... Tim! Right, Tim, the one who was Mr. Wayne's neighbor before his mother died and his dad went into a coma, then died later on. right, right. he was the known tech genius, the one who took over the company while Mr. Wayne stepped back for a while.

there were others? like, four others? Damian, the lady said he was the blood son sooo, that would imply he was the only bio kid.

who else was there? hmmmm.

well, either way, Danny's tired brain agreed with the women. someone, anyone, who looked vaguely like the other kids could walk right into the house and no one would notice.

it was a bad idea. a terrible one really. but. Danny was hungry.

he's been sleeping behind dumpsters for a few weeks now, he hadn't had anything good to eat in forever, and he was tired. (not as exhausted as he was back home, but still tired. who would have guessed he'd sleep more while homeless?)

he wasn't going to steal from people, his core wouldn't allow him to. and well, he's pretty sure Dan would have stolen already, so there was no way Danny was going to. not unless his life was at risk, and well? it wasn't right now, so no stealing.

but this? walking right into a house and blatantly taking food? right in front of them?

it wouldn't be stealing if he just flat-out didn't try to hide it. they'd be able to stop him and send him away. heck, he doubted he'd even make it past the front gate before they turned him away.

...

was he really going to do this?

...

yes, yes he was.

standing up, Danny started making his way out of the alleyway and over to the tall building with Wayne's name on it. It was a good place to start, maybe he could even find one of the kids and walk with them. or, even better, he could find Mr. Wayne and walk with him. he liked that better than following some kid around.

suddenly, a car honked right next to him, the window rolling down to reveal a tired and disheveled man behind the wheel. glancing up, Danny made eye contact with the taxi driver.

the man yawned and gestured for him to get in, already speaking before Danny could decline. "Mr. Wayne! Your father," yawn, "Father already paid for me to take you home. just hop in."

Danny blinked then glanced around, looking to see if the Wayne the man was talking about was around. nope. turning back, Danny spotted a green sticky note on the back seat.

well, alright then. guess he was getting into the taxi and doing this after all. Clockwork obviously approved if he messed with the timing of things.

Next

[catherinnn]

Truth or Dare Harrington?

Steddie x reader

summary: The gang has a night out singing karaoke and drinking. When the party dies down, this trio continues the fun at your apartment.

warnings: SMUT (+18), threesome, p i v, unprotected sex (don't do this, this is fiction), oral sex (m & f), no body descriptions appart that it's afab reader, smoking weed and drinking alcohol.

words: 3.2 k. masterlist

It had started as a fun night out celebrating you were all finally available, the entire group.

Ever since some of you started collage and others started working, the group wasn't what it once was. But tonight you were all here, drinking shot after shot and finishing endless cups of whatever you were ordering.

You went to a karaoke bar –Robin's idea– and it was the most fun you have had in a while.

You did all from solo songs to duets.

You sang 'I'm Just a Girl' with the girls; you sang a duet with Eddie doing 'The Chain'; Steve dared you to sing 'Take My Breath Away'; and then you made him sing 'Last Christmas' –even though it is July– but he made you sing it with him. Eddie and Steve dedicated you their version of 'Maneater' which you didn't know if you should be flattered or offended by.

To sum up, every possible song until your vocal cords hurt.

After that, you offered your apartment to keep the party going. Steve and Eddie were the firsts to say yes very excitedly, but the rest of the gang decided to head home already, calling it a night.

Eddie offered to share some of his good stuff but they went off either way. You still agreed to go and smoke at least for a little while with the boys.

That's how you ended up in your couch, passing a joint among the three of you while you played some dumb drinking game.

"Truth" Eddie chooses.

"Who of the two of us was your favorite to sing with tonight?" you ask him.

"Oh, that's mean. I liked both of you," Eddie takes a moment to think. "but I think we had a lot of chemistry on that stage, big boy"

"What?" you ask offended at his answer. "We had so much chemistry with that song, and it was much more of an iconic moment than yours!"

"Hey hey, he already made his decision!" Steve argues. "Control your jealousy"

"Get out of my apartment" you joke.

"Alright, calm down, I'll make you choose too" Eddie starts. "If you were... stranded on a desert island with one of us, who would it be?"

You roll your eyes, "that's easy, Steve" Eddie gasps offended and Steve grins proudly. "Well, because he was an athlete, he has a good body to survive and also take care of me" you tried to defend your answer.

"I'll take care of you baby" Steve winks at you.

Eddie and you start bickering until Steve makes you shut up and keep playing.

"Quit fighting, Eddie I dare you to say your favorite thing about her"

Eddie smirks already knowing his answer, "Umm, let me think," he says, pretending to be indecisive while forming two circles with his hands in front of his chest, mimicking the shape of breasts.

Steve laughs at this and you roll your eyes containing your giggle.

"Uh- no, it's her eyes, definitely" he answers for real this time.

"Yours?" Steve asks you now. "What's your favorite think about him?"

"Umm," you look at him while thinking your answer. "I could say your eyes as well, but I don't want to copy you... and I love your hair but we have the king of all hairs here present" you say referring to Steve. "I really like your smile, your whole face lights up when you smile, and you have those cute dimples too"

Eddie, ironically, can't help but smile at your statement.

"My turn" you declare. "Stevie, truth or dare"

"Dare"

"I dare you to... hold hands with Eddie for the next three rounds"

"Alright" he takes the other man's hand in his as he also takes the joint from his mouth to keep smoking himself. The latter rolls his eyes at this.

More rounds like that continue, where Eddie makes you sit on Steve's lap until you finish playing, and you make Eddie do a sexy dance without music where you couldn't stop laughing.

"Truth or dare Harrington?" the metalhead asks him.

"Truth"

"What is... a fantasy of yours? A sexy one"

"Uh..." Steve debates whether to say it or not. "Well, I've always wanted to- um, to have a threesome"

"Really?"

"Yeah"

"With two girls?" you ask him.

"Yeah... or a guy and a girl too, I think" he confesses.

"Princess, I dare you and Steve to shotgun" Eddie says all of the sudden.

"What? It's not even your turn"

"We're not even following those rules anymore" he defends.

"Uh, fine" you agree either way.

Steve grabs the joint and as you were already on his lap you just turn your head to look at him.

"I'll do it, yeah?" he checks and you nod.

He takes a drag and holds it, you move your head as close as you can so your lips are almost touching. He exhales the smoke into your mouth and you inhale it.

You don't know if it's the weed or having Steve so close to your face you're almost kissing, but you get a little dizzy on your head.

"You okay?" he checks on you again noticing this. You nod slowly without moving away yet, as you exhale the smoke.

Eddie looks at this smirking, enjoying the scene. "Steve, I dare you to kiss her"

"W- what?"

"Oh, you are both dying to! Just do it already!" he accuses.

You and Steve look back at each other as if you're asking the same question: Can we?

And you both give each other a little nod.

Therefore, Steve slowly closes the distance, finally kissing you.

His lips feel soft on yours. You can taste something sweet as well as the weed from before. The kiss is slow and tender, he caresses your cheek to pull you closer. Your hands go to his hair, feeling how soft it is.

When you separate, you let a little laugh out and so does he.

"That's cute" Eddie comments. You both look back at him.

Steve tries something, hoping it goes well. "Munson, I dare you to kiss her now"

He looks at Steve surprised, but with a smile on. As if he couldn't believe he had said that.

"Can I, sweetheart?" He asks you.

It's like having a little red devil on one shoulder saying, 'Yes! Go kiss him!' and a little angel on the other shoulder saying, 'No, you shouldn't be doing this.’

You pick the devil's side.

Getting down from Steve’s lap, you move closer to the other boy now.

He smirks at you before pressing his lips to yours.

This kiss was a little harder, not fast, just more passionate. He tastes like mint mixed with a smoky sent, being the weed and cigarettes. His hand is also on your cheek, almost at your jaw, keeping you in place. Your hands are also on his hair as you play with his curls.

You separate and feel that dizzy head again. What are these boys doing to you?

He smiles as well as Steve did and you ignore the little jump your belly does.

"I think there's only one move left" you comment as you look at them. You point at one, then at the other, and continue moving your finger back and forth between them, indicating both of them.

Eddie looks at Steve with a big grin. He's enjoying this way too much.

"O- okay" Steve agrees and they get closer until they start kissing.

You lean back enjoying the show. They don't hold back, it’s not a mere peck on the lips, not even close to that. They kiss properly. You wonder if now their tastes are mixed as well. Or if they can taste your lips as well as each other's.

You sit up and get closer to them. They separate and both look at you with puffy lips, you smile at that sight. You feel their hands at your waist bringing you closer. You grab both their faces gently as you bring them closer together and to you.

They see you closing your eyes and they follow you.

It's your first three-way kiss, it's not as uncomfortable as you imagined it would be. It's pretty fun actually, feeling both of their lips against yours, tongues meeting each other again. It's really hot.

You separate after a few minutes of that, looking at them smiling.

"Umm, do you... do any of you want to stop?" Steve asks a bit awkwardly.

Eddie is quick to shake his head, looking at you expectantly.

"Me either" you confirm.

Eddie smiles and kisses you again. You extend your hand to Steve so he doesn't feel left out. He takes it and starts to kiss your neck now. You let out a soft moan against the other boy's mouth.

Kisses and touches are shared among the three of you. You feel Eddie's hands under your shirt and Steve's on your ass. The metalhead lifts your shirt up a little as if asking you if it's okay, you separate from Steve's mouth and lift your arms up. He bites his lips as he takes the shirt off.

Both boy's hands are quickly on your waist, belly and chest.

"You can take that off too, you know?" you say referring to you bra. They look at you as if you just told them they won the lottery.

Steve is the first to reach the back of your bra and unhook it. Eddie's hands take your straps and slowly takes it off completely.

They stare at your boobs as if it is the first time they're seeing breasts. You know for a fact that it's not.

Steve's hands that were on your waist, travel upwards to touch them. Eddie goes to kiss your neck and travel down to your chest, and then to your breasts.

Steve kisses you again and you go to take his shirt off now. You moan on his mouth as Eddie plays with your tits expertly, making you more impatient.

“Can you lay down for us, sweetheart?” Steve asks you and you do as he asked.

Eddie sits up next to Steve, looking down at you as well. Steve whispers something in Eddie’s ear and he nods in agreement. You frown.

“Care to share with the class, boys?” you tell them. Eddie smirks at your joke but stays quiet.

“We just want to take of you” Steve starts.

“Enjoy you a little bit. Does that sound good, princess?” Eddie continues.

You’re still intrigued of what they agreed on, but accept either way.

“Good, just relax for us” Eddie says again as he hovers on top of you and starts kissing you. You enjoy having him like this. You feel Steve’s hands on your thighs going up to your hips.

“Can I take these off?” he asks referring to your pants and you give him the green light.

He unbuttons your pants and takes them off, taking his time, caressing your thighs while you still enjoy of the other boy’s lips on yours.

“These are so cute, baby” the bigger boy comments making Eddie stop kissing you to turn his head and see what he was talking about.

“Oh” Eddie lets out sweetly, “Do you always wear pretty panties like these?” he teases and you shake your head. “No? And why did you wear them tonight?”

You shrug this time, acting innocent. The truth is they make you feel good about yourself. You feel pretty and hot with them. As you knew you were going to go out with them tonight, you wanted the confidence. But you weren’t going to admit that.

“Just a coincidence? Or did you wear them because you were gonna see us?” Eddie continues teasing you.

“What do you think?” you say against his lips, challenging him.

“I think you’re not as innocent as you seem right now” he confesses and it takes everything in you not to make him lay down now as you sit in top of him and see if he can still tease you that way. But you don’t, because you also want to focus on Steve.

“Stop it you two” Steve orders.

“Open your pretty legs, baby” Eddie changes the subject smirking as he moves to face your panties now.

Steve takes advantage of this and lays next to you as he starts kissing your neck.

Eddie finally takes your underwear off and you feel him kissing your thighs, traveling up.

You turn to kiss the boy next to you and he responds happily, caressing from your waist, to your back, your neck, your hair. Everywhere he can really.

Eddie’s kisses move to your cunt now, focusing on your clit and teasing your entrance with two of his fingers.

It’s harder to focus now, Eddie puts his mouth to good use when he’s not mocking you. He makes you feel so good, knowing exactly where and how to play with your pussy. This, added with the touches and kisses Steve leaves on your skin, making you burn.

You moan as you back to kissing Steve, one of your hands on his hair and the other on the hair of the boy kissing you lower. Pulling at each mane.

Eddie doesn’t even want to blink, looking at you both make out as you hide your moans on Steve’s mouth. He is enjoying your sweet taste and the beautiful view. Flickering his tongue quickly on your clit and then sucking on it, he enters two of his fingers in you, making you arch, he smirks against your pussy.

His tongue moves in sync with his fingers, picking a more urgent pace as he feels you clench. You separate from Steve as you keep moaning.

“Gonna cum, baby? Are you close?” the latter asks as he enjoys watching you like this.

“Yes, mmph” you let out pulling on the long set of hair and arching even more as you cum. Your legs try to close but Steve stops them before you succeed.

Eddie keeps licking your pussy for a few more seconds after you cum, to then get up triumphantly. Steve grabs the boy to give him another kiss, tasting you on his tongue. Both men moan at this.

While you catch your breath you see them as they undress each other completely. When they’re done, they look back at you.

“Do you want to keep going?” Eddie asks you and you tell them yes.

They make you sit in the middle on them, your back to Steve. Eddie kisses you and you still taste yourself a little, Steve kisses your whole back.

The tattooed boy steps back, and Steve slowly pushes you down, positioning you all on fours.

“If you want to stop at any time, please tell us. Okay?” He says in your ear and you nod.

You feel Eddie’s hand on your chin, making you look up. He kisses you again as you feel Steve positioning himself in your entrance.

“Can I, baby?” he checks one more time, and you give him the green light once again.

You moan in Eddie’s mouth as you feel Steve entering you. He’s big, really big, making you feel him everywhere.

Eddie kisses your check, jaw, and neck until you get used to Steve’s size. Then he gets up, and you’re now facing his belly.

Before either of them says anything, you understand what they want to do. You start kissing his happy trail down to his cock. He’s also very big, a little less thick than Steve, but definitely nothing for him to feel jealous of.

You feel Steve moving slow but deep inside you, and as he feels you getting more wet around him, he fastens his thrusts.

You start kissing Eddie’s head and licking his length for a few seconds just to tease him. Then you finally wrap your lips around him, slowly entering your mouth. He throws his head back, getting lost in the pleasure.

“Your mouth feels so good, princess, fuck” he curses.

Steve moves faster at this, “Pussy’s so good too, you’re just fucking perfect” he moans.

You moan with your mouth completely full, making Eddie grunt and wrap his hand in your hair, also preventing it from bothering you.

Both boys take pleasure on the view as well. Eddie can see Harrington with his mouth slightly open, letting some moans and curses out as he moves perfectly inside you. He can see your round ass and Steve’s hands gripping it harshly. Lastly, he can see your beautiful face in pleasure as you take all of him in your mouth. He wonders how he can be so fucking lucky to be living this, but wishes it never stops.

Steve watches your pussy take him expertly, from his tip until he feels his pelvis come in touch with your skin. He watches your ass all round and perfect in front of him; he can’t see your face, but he sees Eddie’s hand grip your hair tighter and tighter until his skin turns white. He watches the other boy’s tattooed chest and arms, with his head turning back in pleasure from time to time, showing his big neck.

“Fuck yes, just like that, princess” Eddie curses. And Steve smirks feeling you clench around him.

“She likes hearing you, Munson”

“Oh, do you now? You like me saying how good you’re taking me? Best fucking blowjob I’ve ever had” You feel a tingle of jealousy imagining him with another girl in her knees for him, you’ll find a way to bother him with that when your mouth is not completely full.

“Fuck, she really does” Steve snitches on you and Eddie laughs.

“Such a good play toy we have here for us, Harrington”

“Fucking right we do”

Eddie feels you whimper against him. You separate, taking him out of your mouth to breathe for a second.

“That’s good, catch your breath, sweetheart” he says as he brushes his thumb over your swollen lips.

“Fuck, Steve! Harder!” you take the advantage to tell him and he obeys, making you face the cushions now form how hard he’s thrusting in and out.

“I can feel how close you are, baby, cum for us” He orders now, sliding a hand to play with your clit.

“Oh, yes yees, just like that!” You grip the cushions hard as you let yourself come undone.

“Shit baby, you’re so hot” He moves harder and faster now, catching his climax.

He quickly takes himself out, stroking his cock fast until he cums on your back, cursing and moaning as he does.

He picks up his shirt and cleans you out as you catch your breath.

You feel Eddie now next to you again.

“You feel okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I’m really good” you comment, and you see he’s still hard.

“Eds” you get up to sit on his lap, but he stops you.

“Wait, hey. Do you want to keep going? We don’t have to?”

You roll your eyes playfully, still appreciating his concern, and you kiss him again.

He kisses you back so needy, grabbing you to sit on him and feeling you up.

He stops for a second and looks to the side of the room, Steve is sitting down watching you. Eddie signals the seat next to him, and Steve gets closer to you.

You go back to kissing Eddie, and Steve is kissing his neck.

Hands are everywhere, feeling each other’s bodies. You get up slightly and grab Eddie’s dick so you can sit on him.

“Oh, shit” he moans against Steve’s mouth. You move back and forth on him, Steve’s hands controlling your movements, helping you to ride Eddie.

“Oh fuuck” you moan arching my back.

“Sensitive baby?” Steve teases you and you nod.

“You feel so good, princess, holy shit” his head rests back on Steve’s shoulder. You both go to kiss and bite his neck, leaving marks behind just like the one’s Steve’s leaving on your hips from his tight grip.

“You feel so so good in me, baby” You tease him a little, whisper in his ear. “You both did, stretching me out so well, my big boys”

“Fuck- I- I’m not gonna last, I’m so close” He rests his head on your shoulder now, leaving bites and kisses.

“Cum with me Eds, I’m so close too” you jump faster now.

“Look at our little bunny here” Steve keeps teasing you both now, Eddie looks up at you and kisses you once again.

“Mhh, cum Eddie! Cum with me!” You tell him as you let go. He follows you right behind, grunting your name.

You stay like that with him, hugging each other. Steve gets up to grab a glass of water and a towel so he can clean you up once again.

He rests back on the couch next to you two.

“That was incredible” he comments.

“It really was” you say, turning your head to look at him, still resting with Eddie.

“You okay, Munson?” Steve checks since he stayed silent.

“I’m awesome man” he finally lets out. “and was incredible, indeed”

“You’re staying over? Don’t make me sleep alone now” you ask them.

“Of course, sweetheart”

“If you insist, princess”

You let out a small laugh, pleased with their answers.

“Let’s go to bed before we fall asleep on the couch” Steve orders.

And you sleep with one of them on each side, all cuddling together. You haven’t slept that good in a while.

[atlabeth]

geyser

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: percy learns about the first girl luke castellan ever loved.

a/n: this is a lil sad. sorry about that. but i really like it and it came out of nowhere in like 2 days so i hope you enjoy despite the sadness. title from the mitski song

wc: 6.5k

warning(s): major character death; not shown but hangs over the whole fic. angst made angstier by fluffy flashbacks. mostly told through percy’s pov but includes luke, annabeth, and reader povs

also if you saw this before on another account DONT WORRY... that account was also me. im just doing some stuff behind the scenes right now as i figure stuff out lol i promise no plagiarism is going on

Percy thought that his head might explode. 

He didn’t know how he was still walking, honestly. His mom died, he killed a— no, the— Minotaur, all the Greek myths were real and his dad was one of them, and now he had to deal with that freak accident with Clarisse and the toilets. 

At least he would be ready next time she tried to beat him up. Percy had been the new kid enough to know there would be a next time.

All he could do was stare at the Minotaur horn in his hands, the only sign that what happened outside the border was real. The horn in his hands and the hole in his heart. 

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d been thrown into the deep end, and the only thing on his mind was when he would start to drown. 

“Hey.” Percy looked up to see the counselor he’d met earlier with Annabeth—Luke. He tossed a ziploc bag at him and he caught it, taking a moment to look at what was in it. 

“I stole you some toiletries from the camp store,” he explained. “Thought it might make you feel more at home.” 

“…Thanks.” He didn’t know if Luke was joking, but the damage had already been done. And it was the nicest thing someone had done for him so far. He set it down next to his Minotaur shoebox. “Is this the best that it gets?” 

Luke’s lips quirked up in a slight smile. “For now. We’re a little crowded, if you couldn’t tell.” 

“Just a little bit.” Percy stood up from his sleeping bag and worked out the knot in his shoulder. “Where’s your bed? Assuming you have one.” 

“I couldn’t wrangle all these cats without some back support,” he said, and he pointed to a bed in the corner. It was the only one on its own without a bunk, and he had a fair amount of decorations. Counselor privileges, he figured. Percy walked over, Luke trailing behind him. 

“Nice place,” he said. Percy picked up the Yankee’s cap on his bedside table and nodded as he looked back at him. “Nice taste.” 

“It’s for Annabeth,” Luke said. “She wanted us to match.” 

Percy nodded again in approval. “Good taste for both of you.”

Luke had various other things around — an alarm clock knocked over next to the baseball cap, a huskie sticker on the wall half-scraped off, a poster for an album he didn’t recognize. 

But the thing that caught his eye was a polaroid hanging on the wall, surrounded by a smattering of others varying in size. 

The first one had to be an old picture—Luke didn’t have his scar, and the biggest smile stretched across his face. He had a girl close with an arm slung around her waist, and she might’ve been smiling even more than Luke. A bright energy emanated around her, something that must have transferred through the picture, because Percy found himself feeling a little better just looking at her. He wondered if she was a camper. 

His eyes flicked to the next picture, which was another one of Luke and that girl. They were both laughing as she tried to put a blue hat on Luke’s head, and he protested with a hand on her wrist. They were in the forefront of a baseball game, Percy noticed.

There were other pictures, too—Luke, a girl dressed all punk, and what looked like a young version of Annabeth, most notably—but a majority of them were either Luke and that girl, or the girl all on her own. In every single one, she beamed brighter than the sun. 

Percy pointed at the picture of Luke and the girl at the baseball game, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Who’s that?”

That seemed to catch Luke off-guard, his lips parting for a moment as if he wanted to say something. It barely took him any time to get back on track, but Percy found himself frowning. 

“That’s…” Luke cleared his throat, wet his lips, shook his head. “A friend. A very good friend.”

“Does she go here?” Percy asked. 

“She did.” 

He frowned. “Where is she, then?” 

“Percy—” Luke’s voice was strained, but he didn’t really notice as he went on. 

“I didn’t see her around,” he continued, “and you look pretty close.” 

Luke blinked a couple times, and Percy swore he could see the telltale glimmer of tears starting in his eyes. A muscle worked in his jaw, and suddenly Percy was worried that he’d said something horribly wrong. He had a talent for that, it seemed. 

Fortunately, he was saved by the bell—conch shell?—and something like relief flooded through Luke’s expression. Tension still coiled in his body. 

“Come on,” he said, that camp counselor smile coming back as he put his hand on Percy’s shoulder and guided him away from the enclave. “That means dinner’s about to start.”

Percy’s frown deepened as curiosity won out again. “Was she your—”

“You don’t wanna be late,” Luke continued, ignoring his attempt. “I assume you’re pretty hungry after two days spent out?”

Well, that only made him want to push harder. But Percy figured he wouldn’t get anything out of him—especially not now. 

“…Yeah,” Percy said. “Starving.”

An odd look flickered across his face, but again, it only lasted for a second before he was back to normal. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Eleven! Fall in!” 

Percy was at the back of the line by virtue of him being the new kid, and he found himself looking back at that picture of Luke and the girl. He didn’t know why, but something drew him to her. Before Percy could think about it more, the line was moving and his growling stomach drew his attention away. 

He would have plenty of time to ask Luke about it later. 

Or rather, ask him and piss off the only person who’d tried to be his friend so far. 

…Gods. 

Maybe he was going to drown sooner than he thought. 

-

“Luke—” 

“No!” 

“Luke, please!” 

“Annabeth will kill me if she knows—” 

“She won’t know!” 

“Alright, alright— stay still, you two!” 

Your mother laughed from behind the camera as you and Luke fought with each other, you trying your damnedest to get your Red Sox cap on his head as he tried his damnedest to stop you. The frantic laughter on both sides made it a little difficult for either of you to succeed in your quest, but eventually, you got the rock up the hill and the hat on his head. 

“Take the picture, Mom!” you exclaimed, pulling Luke even closer by his arms so he couldn’t get it off. “I need the proof!” 

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Luke groaned, staring at the camera as you wrapped your arm around his side and leaned into him. He could already imagine your victorious smile, brighter than the sun beating down on them in the stadium, and just the thought of it made one of his own flit across his lips. 

“Oh, shut up, Castellan,” you said. “You chose to come to this game. Everyone’s gonna know you’re a Red Sox fan now.”

“You said you wouldn’t tell her!” Luke defended, wrenching his arms free of your control to take the hat off his head. “I don’t even care about baseball!” 

“You care so much about it,” you said cloyingly, “and you’re ride or die for the Boston Red Sox.” 

“If you say a single word—” 

“Okay, kids!” Your mother pointed at the seats next to her. “The game’s about to start—you can keep arguing, but only if you sit down so I can see.” 

“Sorry, Mom.” You grinned at her as you pulled Luke over to your seats—they were a step up from nosebleeds, but they were the ones closest to the balcony so you could at least peer over the railing down to the diamond.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” She glanced at Luke with a smile, and he could really see where you got it from. “We’ve gotta make him a fan somehow.” 

“I guess I can live with the brand.” Luke set the cap back on your head once you were seated, purposefully pulling the brim a little over your eyes, and he smiled at you. “Even though it looks better on you, anyways.” 

“You just don’t have what it takes to be a Red Sox fan in the heart of Yank territory,” you mused, pushing the hat back up so you could see. “It’s fine.” 

Luke rolled his eyes, but he could hardly bite back his smile. 

“I am glad you came, though,” you said, glancing back at him. “I’m glad you came with me in the first place. This is gonna be the best semester.”

“Thanks for having me,” Luke said. “It’s… it’s been a while since I’ve left camp.” 

“Fingers crossed for no monster attacks, eh?” You held up your hand. “At least, not during the game. I could live with it happening any other time.” 

“Don’t speak it into existence,” your mom said. “We’re going to have a monster-free school year.” 

To humor her, you made a claw over your heart and pushed out. She hummed in satisfaction, and you looked over at Luke. “It’s gonna be fine.” 

“Yeah,” he said. “Because two kids like us aren’t gonna draw any attention.” 

“Oh, I know we will,” you said. “But I know it’ll be fine.” 

Luke frowned. “How can you be so sure?” 

You shrugged with a smile. “I’ve got you.”

And in that moment, he was thankful for the freakish heat that honestly made no sense in the spring—at least it covered up any sign of what your words did to him. 

Luke thought you were joking when you asked him if he wanted to come back home with you for the school year. He didn’t know why you wanted to go back in the first place, being a Big Three kid that apparently had a death wish, but the thought of him leaving camp was almost inconceivable. 

Even after you assured him you weren’t joking, he still wasn’t sure. He was on the run with you for three years, then… 

Well, he couldn’t think about it for too long. But Luke had been on the outskirts of regular society for so long, doing nothing but fighting for his life, that he didn’t know if he could actually function at a normal school.

But it felt right for you two to get some��normal time together after you were separated for so long. It took him a semester to decide, but one day during your usual Iris message conversations, he told you he’d love to spend the rest of the year in Boston with you. Luke still remembered the grin you wore, your disbelieving but victorious cheers, the apology you yelled back at your mother for your noise. 

Luke watched you as you talked with your mom, discussing Boston’s chances and player statistics and baseball jargon he didn’t think he’d ever understand, and he knew he would sit through a thousand Red Sox games if it meant he would get to keep seeing your smile.

You must have felt his eyes on you, because you glanced over at him. “Are you okay?” 

Luke smiled. Gods, he was so glad you were here. 

“Never better.” 

-

“That one nearly got me,” Luke said. 

Percy huffed as he picked up his sword from the ground—he was pretty sure he would officially lose his mind if Luke disarmed him with that stupid move one more time. One benefit to the Hermes cabin being too scared to associate with him after getting claimed was that he wasn’t making a fool out of himself in front of other people. 

“Maybe I can only beat you when I pour water on myself,” he said. 

Luke chuckled as he took a bottle from the cooler on the side and held it up. “Wanna try?” 

He shook his head. “I think my arms will fall off if I keep going with you.” 

He tipped his shoulder. “Fair.” 

Percy stared at the ground as Luke gathered himself, trying to put the free range thoughts roaming around his head in order. It didn’t help that he’d gained a million questions after Poseidon claimed him, and it didn’t help that there’s been a newest addition to his dream last night. 

He still felt strange asking Luke about it, but he had to know more about her. Percy didn’t know why it felt like his mission to find out who this mysterious girl was, or why he felt that strange connection to her. Maybe it was the way Luke acted whenever he brought her up, maybe it was that she’d popped up in his dream next to him at the very end, maybe it was just plain old curiosity. 

“I’m not supposed to be alive,” Percy said, breaking the silence. “I could die at any time in a bunch of different horrible ways. So will you tell me more about that girl on your wall?”  

Again, Luke seemed to be caught off guard by it. Percy heard the crunch of plastic as his hand clenched ever so slightly around the bottle, and he tried to cover it up with an arched eyebrow. “Why do you want to know so badly?” 

He shrugged. What was he supposed to say? 

“I’m curious,” he decided. 

Luke huffed a dry laugh before he took a sip of water, and he stared off into the distance for a while. He did a lot of staring whenever this girl was brought up. They looked like they were best friends in those pictures, but maybe whatever they had ended badly. And if she was a demigod too…

Well, it would make sense why he didn’t want to talk about her. 

“You know that phrase about curiosity?” Luke asked. 

“And how it killed the cat?” 

He nodded, drinking some more. “It goes double for demigods.” 

“Everything else wants to kill me,” Percy said. “So curiosity’s gonna have to get in line.” 

Luke’s laugh was a little more genuine this time, and he shook his head. “I guess I can tell you a little about her. You actually probably have a right to know.” 

“Is she a half-blood?” Percy asked immediately. 

He nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Who’s her parent?” 

Luke capped his water bottle and looked at Percy for a good, long moment. His face glowed in the warm afternoon sun, his scar cast in a softer light than usual. The scar used to unnerve him, but he’d gotten used to it after weeks staring at it during sword fighting. 

“She was a child of Poseidon, Percy,” he said. “Just like you.” 

Percy felt short of breath, like Luke had just knocked his sword out of his hand and shoved him to the ground. But he stood on his own two legs that somehow still worked, and Luke hadn’t moved. 

He had a sister? 

“I have a sister?” 

“…Had,” Luke corrected. “She… she died a few years back.” 

A vice latched onto Percy’s heart. He was still having a hard time breathing. No wonder Luke always used past tense when he was talking about her. 

He had a sister, he wasn’t alone, but he was because she was dead. And if Luke was one of her friends, that meant she died young. 

Gods. 

“What about their oath?” Percy asked, trying to ignore the aching in his chest. “I’m already on thin ice for my whole existing thing. How did Poseidon get away with two kids so close to each other?” 

Luke shrugged. “I’ve never known why gods do things. Her mother was a great woman, though—I could see what drew Poseidon to her against the oath.” 

One half of Percy wanted to ask every question that kept popping into his head. The other side of him wanted to break down and cry. 

“How did you meet her?” 

“We ran into each other when we were both young,” he said. “Both child runaways, both demigods, both New Englanders—we decided to rough it out on the road together. Couldn’t be any worse than doing it on our own.”

Percy tried to imagine it. A young Luke and a younger version of that girl—maybe Percy’s age—living together in the wilderness and fighting monsters. Surviving off of nothing but their wit and skill, facing death each day before they’d even reached middle school. 

“It… it didn’t happen then, did it?” he asked hesitantly. 

Luke shook his head. “Couple years later. All we did was watch each other’s backs out there.” 

Percy couldn’t help himself. “What happened to her?”  

“The same thing that happens to everyone,” Luke said flatly. “There’s a reason I’m the oldest one here.” 

“That doesn’t make it better,” Percy insisted. “It— it makes it worse, Luke. You see that, right?”  

Luke stared at his empty water bottle then tossed it back into the cooler. When his gaze met Percy’s, he was shocked by how… tired he looked. Beyond exhausted—bone-weary. Percy wanted to say more, but he didn’t get the chance. 

“This isn’t good conversation,” Luke said, “and it’s getting late. You should hit the showers before dinner.” 

The sun still beat down on them, bright and angry in the sky, but Percy provided no argument. He had a lot to think about. 

Before they went their separate ways, Percy stopped and looked back at him. “I’m sorry she’s gone, Luke.” 

Luke’s gaze went unfocused for a moment, his eyes growing glossy. “So am I.” 

-

Percy sat on the floor of the Hermes cabin in the corner that used to be his, staring at his meager belongings. He had to decide what to take on his quest, which was made easier by the fact that he hardly had anything to his name. Things could always be worse, though. At least he would have a change of clothes. 

He should’ve been doing this in his own cabin, but it felt too empty, too suffocating in its silence. Eleven was still more familiar. He heard the door open and saw Luke walk in, and his eyes lit up when he saw Percy. 

“Hey,” he said. “I wanted to see you before you left. How’re you feeling pre-quest?” 

“Like the world’s about to end,” he said. 

Luke’s lips twitched into a smile as he sat on the bed across from Percy. “Understandable. It kinda is.” 

“It’s just overwhelming.” Percy shoved the unfolded clothes into his backpack. “I have to clear mine and my dad’s names and get Zeus’s bolt back, or else war will start. No pressure at all.” 

“You were chosen for a reason,” Luke said. “You may not see it, Percy, but you’ve improved a lot since you got here. If anyone can do this, I think it’s you.” 

Percy looked up at him, and he was reminded of the way their last conversation went. He was asking before he could really stop himself. 

“I could die on this quest and never see you again,” Percy said. “So could you tell me more about my sister before I go?”  

Luke smiled wistfully and sighed. “You really won’t let this go, will you?” 

“It’s not really something you just let go,” he said. “Besides, I… I saw her in my dream last night.” 

Luke’s smile faded. “You did?”  

Percy nodded. “For a split second, but I know it was her. I felt the same way I did whenever I looked at her pictures. And… it’s the second time she’s shown up.” 

He let out a long sigh and shook his head, his gaze trailing off to the wall. He always looked so much older when he talked about this girl, like he was a war veteran reminiscing on his lost love. And from what he’d gathered, it might not have been too far off. 

“I told you we ran together when we were young,” he said, and Percy nodded. “We were both nine, and it should’ve been terrible, but she had a way of making everything better. Always found the bright side of things, was always able to make me laugh.” 

“She was from Massachusetts—right in the middle of Boston.” Luke chuckled as he looked at Percy. “Huge Red Sox fan.” 

Percy grimaced. “We all make mistakes.” 

Luke smiled, though it faded a bit. “We got separated for a while, but we found each other again when I got to camp. Things were more peaceful than they are now, so she’d been claimed at camp pretty quickly. I figure Poseidon wanted her to have the protection of him openly standing behind her after what happened.” 

He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘what happened’?” 

Luke shook his head. “That would be an awful story to send you off on.” 

Percy wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Luke was probably right—Percy didn’t want to make him relive it and then have to go on a death quest right after.

“A happier part, then,” he suggested.

“She ran away from home as a kid to protect her mom, but now that she had an idea of what she was doing, she started going back to school. She invited me to stay with her during the school year one year, and I accepted. That—” Luke’s throat bobbed, and the other hand clenched into a fist— “that was when she died.” 

In his stunned silence, Luke got up and went over to his alcove. He pulled the drawer open on his bedside table and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. It must’ve been folded and crumpled a million other times in messier ways by all the creases he could see, but when Luke opened it, he could see handwriting all over the front. 

A letter. 

“We Iris messaged each other constantly while she was at school,” he said, “and we wrote back and forth when we couldn’t. This was the last letter she sent me.” 

Percy’s first instinct was to say he wouldn’t be able to read it, but he realized that he didn’t really care. These were words that his sister wrote—he would sit here the rest of the day forcing sentences to make sense if that was what it took. 

So he took the letter when Luke offered it. 

To the one and only Luke Castellan, 

My mom said yes! After a very long interrogation (she now knows basically everything about you) and a million promises that you would be as careful as possible and that you were good enough at sword fighting to take down anything that could come after us, she said you can spend the year here. We spent a couple hours every day making my mom’s study into a guest room, so you have a place to stay.

I’m an idiot that didn’t bring enough drachmas so that’s why I have to send this letter—hopefully it gets to you soon enough, because we’re gonna come get you a week before my winter break is over. Mom is letting me drive down because she says I have to get my permit soon. It makes sense that my first big test is getting to you. If we don’t make it, it’s because we died in a fiery crash. 

Just kidding. I’m a great driver. But tell me some of your favorite songs when you reply and I’ll burn a CD for the ride—I figured out how to use LimeWire. Oh, and throw in a couple drachmas with the envelope so I can Iris message you next time. I miss your face and your voice, and my hand is cramping up writing all of this. 

But this is so exciting! I can’t wait to introduce you to all my friends at school, and show you my favorite places in the city, and make you into a Red Sox fan. And you can come to my soccer games— I’m the greatest forward there is. 

Jokes aside, I’m going to make sure you have the best time. We’ll spend every second together, Luke. We’re gonna make up for the time we lost. 

I can’t wait to see you again.

Your hurricane.  

It took Percy a long time to get through it with the words swimming all over, and it didn’t help that his vision had grown blurry. 

Tears, he realized as he blinked, and he did it again to make sure they wouldn’t fall. He couldn’t cry in front of Luke, not over a girl he didn’t even know—even if she was his sister. But maybe he was grieving that—the fact that he would never get to know her. 

“God, man. I— I’m sorry.” Percy couldn’t think of anything else to say. “She sounds like she was great.” 

Luke couldn’t even manage a smile this time as he stared at the wall. Percy was surprised he could even talk to him about it. 

“She was,” he murmured. “You would’ve liked her. And gods,” this time, a bit of a smile broke through despite it all, “she would have loved a little brother.” 

“I’m gonna make her proud on this quest,” Percy vowed. “I’m gonna clear our dad’s name for her.”

Something in Luke’s gaze had changed—sadness, almost regret. “You’re a good kid, Percy. I hope your quest doesn’t change that.” 

I hope I come back alive, he wanted to say. But given the topic matter, he didn’t. Percy carefully folded the letter back up and handed it to Luke. 

“Thank you for telling me about her, man,” Percy said. “I… I know it can’t be easy.”

Luke let out a shuddering breath as he stared at the closed letter—Percy wondered how many times he must have sat in this same position, reading her words. “No better way to honor her memory than helping her brother.” He glanced at Percy. “I see a lot of her in you.” 

He’d been wondering if he had anything in common with her. Percy felt a sudden flare of anger shoot through him—it wasn’t fair that she was dead. Poseidon was a god, and she was a teenager. He should have saved her. 

Percy’s mouth was drier than a desert. A part of him wanted to curl up in a ball and sob over the sister he never got the chance to know, but the other part of him knew—from what little Luke had told him about her—that she wouldn’t want him to. 

“I should get going,” Percy said, standing up from the floor. “We have to leave for the quest soon, and Annabeth and Grover are probably wondering where I am, and…” 

Percy trailed off, and Luke nodded in understanding. He turned around and took one of the photos off the wall—one of you alone in the middle of a park, wearing a bucket hat and absolutely beaming. 

“You deserve to have a part of her with you,” he said. “For good luck.” 

He felt himself choking up, and he pushed it down as he accepted the photo. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.”

“Good luck, Percy,” Luke said. “You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you.”

Percy found himself studying the picture of you once he made it outside, trying to memorize your face. With your wide, infectious smile that emanated pure sunlight, he could have mistaken you for an Apollo kid. But when he looked at you, he got that same warmth that he felt every time he imagined his father. 

“I won’t let you down,” he murmured. “I promise.” 

-

After sleeping in his train seat for half the day, Percy vowed to never complain about his bed in Cabin Three again. He was gonna be going down to the Underworld with permanent cricks in his neck. 

Grover was still sound asleep—Percy envied him for how easily it came to him in the worst conditions—but thankfully, Annabeth wasn’t. Her gaze was focused on the view as their train chugged along. 

Percy cleared his throat in a flawless attempt at getting her attention, and it worked. 

“You’re awake,” she said. 

“Unfortunately.” Percy sighed. “How much longer do you think it’ll be?” 

“Another day, at least,” she said. “And we’ve got a layover in St. Louis.” 

“St. Louis,” he hummed. “Nice.” 

They sat in silence for a while—there wasn’t much to talk about when they were coming off of two— or was it three, now?—near-death experiences. But eventually, Annabeth cleared her throat, taking a page from his book, and it worked again. 

“There— there’s probably something you should know,” Annabeth said, and that worked even better than clearing her throat. “You’re not the only Big Three kid to come through Camp Half-blood lately.” 

“I know,” he said. “Grover and Luke explained it.” 

Her eyes widened slightly and she leaned forward in her seat. “Luke did?” 

“…Yeah. You all already told me about Thalia.” Percy glanced away, suddenly feeling a chill in the train car. “Luke told me about my sister.” 

Annabeth went silent. 

“It’s okay,” he said. “I kind of annoyed Luke until he told me. Doesn’t really seem like a subject people at camp like to talk about.” 

“I’m just surprised he did,” she murmured. “They were… they were close, Percy. Her death destroyed him—Thalia and your sister. All of it’s complicated.”  

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I got some of that.” 

“I only knew her for a year at camp, but everyone loved her,” she said. “She was nice. Popular. Always helped when she could, always had the biggest, most infectious smile on her face.” Annabeth looked down at her hands. “She didn’t deserve the fate she got.” 

Percy didn’t think he’d ever grieved so much for someone he never knew. “But her and Luke—were they…?” 

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, “they were a thing, later on.” 

That seemed to be all she wanted to say on the matter. Percy decided not to push. 

“How did you meet her?” he asked. 

Annabeth’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I met her on the day I thought I would die.”

-

For the first time in her life, Annabeth Chase couldn’t think. 

It had all happened so fast. One second she was running with Luke and Thalia and Grover, praying to her mother and any other gods that would listen to make the horde of monsters let up even a centimeter.

The next, she’d collapsed on the ground, never so grateful to have grass and dirt and dust in her face. But she could hear Luke yelling, barely able to make it out in her delirious state—she didn’t know when she’d last had a sip of water, and they’d been running for at least three miles—but he sounded hysterical. 

She remembered her last clear thought: they weren’t going to make it. 

But they had. They had, so why was Luke losing his mind? 

Annabeth pulled herself up from the ground—how long had she been bleeding out of those slashes on her arm?—and looked for the rest of her friends. Luke wasn’t yelling anymore, instead arguing with someone she didn’t recognize in a bright orange shirt. Grover’s furry legs trembled as he stared down the hill they’d just gotten up, completely silent, and Thalia— 

Where was Thalia? 

Annabeth tried to get up but her legs gave out almost immediately, and steady arms caught her before she could fall to the ground again. Kind eyes served to ease some of her panic—she was older than Annabeth, maybe around Luke or Thalia’s age. 

Thalia— 

“Hey, you’re okay,” the voice said, and Annabeth’s attention was drawn back to you. “I’ve got you.” 

“Where’s Thalia?” she blurted out, because now she couldn’t think of anything else. 

Your brows creased and you glanced back down the hill—Annabeth did too, and she saw Grover and Luke arguing with each other. Or rather, Luke was yelling at him as Grover anxiously hooked his hands through his hair. 

“I don’t know,” you said, “but right now, I need to make sure you’re okay. Are you hurt?” 

Annabeth absentmindedly held up her arm, but she was only focused on her friends. Why wasn’t Thalia with them? Why was Luke so upset?

You cursed under your breath in Ancient Greek as you cradled her arm, and you looked back down the hill. Annabeth could see at least half a dozen other kids. 

“We’ve got two half-bloods and a satyr, one injured!” you yelled back. “Get Molly and Brayden!” 

“Three,” Annabeth found herself saying. “There’s three half-bloods—” 

“Annabeth!” 

Her head shot up at the sound of Luke calling her name as he bounded over, and her eyes widened at the blood steadily spidering across the fabric of his shirt. 

“Luke, you’re hurt—” 

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “It’s fine.” 

“We have Apollo kids coming,” you said, looking up at him, still cradling Annabeth’s arm. “We’ll get y—” 

Your sentence stuck in your throat, and Annabeth could see tears welling in your eyes as your brows furrowed. She thought Luke’s eyes might burst out of his skull as he stared at you, his lips parted but nothing coming out. Neither of you were able to form words. 

When he finally did get something out, it was a single name. One Annabeth knew by heart, one that he’d mourned for years. 

“Luke?” you whispered. 

Before he had the chance to do anything, two teenagers got over the hill and called out your name, the same one Luke used. He always said you were dead, but you clearly weren’t dead, because you were here and you had her arm in your grasp and while your hands were cold, they weren’t cold enough to be dead— 

“Molly’s gonna take care of you,” you said, looking back at Annabeth and cutting off her inner dialogue. “She’ll get you to the infirmary and heal you up, okay?” 

“My friends—” 

“They’re gonna be okay too,” you said. “I promise.” 

Annabeth looked up at Luke, and he nodded. “We’ll be with you soon, Annabeth. We— we have to talk about some things.” 

So she went with Molly down the hill, and Annabeth put pressure on her bleeding wound when she told her to—it had started to sting like hell now that her adrenaline was fading. 

She looked back just in time to see you and Luke share the tightest hug ever. 

The hug of two people who realized they weren’t seeing ghosts, Annabeth thought. 

-

You bolted up in bed, eyes wide and your chest heaving as you rapidly sucked in air. Your fingers found purchase in your bedsheets, desperate for something familiar—it took a second for you to recognize your surroundings, that you weren’t in an endless void, but your childhood bedroom offered little comfort.  

You ran a hand over your forehead, damp with sweat, as you tried to calm down. Your breathing slowed, but you couldn’t shake that awful feeling that hung over you in your sleep. 

Your nightmares were getting worse, you knew that much. That raspy, demented voice used to be a rarity, and now it appeared every night. You could usually deal with your nightmares, but the sense of absolute dread that voice and the pit fostered in you was too much. You hadn’t managed to sleep through the night once since you came home for the school year.

You could deal with the monsters—to you, this was the worst part of your godly blood.

A knock rattled on the door out of nowhere, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The only thing that calmed you down was the thought that monsters didn’t knock. 

“Come in,” you croaked, your throat drier than a desert. 

Thankfully, a monster hadn’t come to make your night even more miserable. Luke stood in the doorway, his eyebrows creased in concern, messy curls hanging just above his eyes. He wore the Red Sox t-shirt you’d bought for him at the game you dragged him to, and in your addled state, you didn’t even think to tease him about it. 

“Are you okay?” He should’ve been as disoriented as you, but his alerted eyes told a different story. 

You could only think of one thing. “How did you know?” 

Luke’s lips parted for a moment, as if he hadn’t even considered it. “I could just feel it.”

You managed a smile despite every atom in your body screaming at you. “I think that means you can come in.” 

He closed the door behind him, and you shifted over in your bed to make room for him. There wasn’t much in a twin, but you made it work. Luke’s weight pressed into the mattress, making you adjust your position, and it was more comforting than any amount of blankets. 

“You’re so cold,” he murmured, laying the back of his hand against your arm. “How do you live like that?” 

“Blame my dad,” you said. “I’ve got water in my blood.” 

“I think that’s probably a bad thing,” Luke said, and you knocked your shoulder into his with a huff. 

“You know what I mean.” 

Luke let his hand fall back in his lap, and as you brought your knees up to your chest, you pulled the covers with them. 

“So,” Luke said, glancing at you, “what’s got you awake at the witching hour?” 

“The usual,” you mumbled. 

“Nightmares that might be prophetic?” he asked. 

You made a lazy gesture with your hand. “Bingo.” 

“The worst sense of dread imaginable?” 

“Bullseye.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

You shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t deal with.” 

“You don’t always have to put on a front, y’know,” Luke said. You felt his eyes on you. “You don’t always have to be strong.” 

“I’m naturally strong,” you said with mock austerity. “Comes with the god for a dad.” 

Luke chuckled and shook his head. “You know what I mean.” 

“Yeah,” you murmured. 

You leaned into his side, fitting your head into the crook of his neck. Luke wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, and you let out a contented sigh. 

That voice in your nightmares seemed so small when you had Luke. 

“Can you stay?” you asked softly. 

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.” 

“Just like old times,” you whispered. 

“Just like old times,” he agreed. 

Luke ran hot, and you’d never been more thankful for it as you fully settled into his side. Icy blood ran through your veins, and you let out a shaky sigh. You could hear his steady breathing, feel his heartbeat through his chest, and the anxiety from earlier began to steadily fade. You never felt safer than when you were with Luke. 

There was something between you—you weren’t that stupid—but you hadn’t talked about it. With you and Luke, it was just… you and Luke. You didn’t have to put a label to it. 

How could you put a label to your relationship, when you’d spent your first few years together fighting for each day, and then the next few thinking the other was dead? 

Maybe someday, you would talk about it. But for now, this was more than enough. 

“Don’t worry,” Luke murmured in your ear as your eyes began to droop. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” 

And by the gods, you believed him. 

[wandascosmic]

so american

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: in which you struggle with the aftermath of your relationship with natasha, but wanda never fails to help you through it all.

or, the one based off so american by olivia rodrigo.

word count: 11,499

tags: fluff, angst, natasha being a bitch in one scene, this was supposed to be completely fluffy but then i added angst and ended up loving it, they're mostly just two idiots in love, reader gets insecure a couple times, wanda's so in love, everyone say thank you to olivia rodrigo for fuelling all my fic ideas

part one: enough for you

“Why do Americans drive on the right side of the road,” Wanda grumbles as she sits behind the wheel, driving the two of you to your favorite road trip destination, your family’s cottage in Nevada. 

You laugh, kissing her cheek. “Baby, Sokovians do too.” 

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it,” Wanda mutters, cursing under her breath when another right-hand turn takes her by surprise. 

“I think that’s what you get for getting your license in the UK, Wanda,” you tease. “Now you’re all grumpy, and angry, and that milkshake we shared a couple of hours ago definitely didn’t help–”

Wanda gives you a look and you give a cheeky smile in return.

“For the record,” she replies, looking at the road once more. “I didn’t have a choice. I was on a recon mission with Steve, and he told me I couldn’t rely on my powers for transportation all the time.” 

“Well, I think your powers are hot, though.” 

Wanda laughs. “Thanks, detka.” 

“Jesus, I’m cold,” you mutter as goosebumps start to form on your skin. 

Wanda immediately turns down the AC in the car, and you reach into the back for the first piece of outerwear you can find. As you pull your hand back to your body, you realize it’s Wanda’s navy blue hoodie, your favorite piece of clothing of hers. Smiling, you pull it over your head, comforted by the scent of her that enraptures your senses. 

Sighing in satisfaction, you lean your head back into your chair, feeling so much more content than you did a year ago. 

Wanda notices you out of the corner of her eye, and softly says, “You look so pretty wearing my clothes.” 

You smile at her, and Wanda takes your hand in return, as she keeps her other on the wheel, intertwining your fingers together. 

“You’re so warm,” you whisper, feeling so so loved. 

Wanda squeezes your hand tighter. 

***

Wanda’s laugh is the most beautiful sound in the world, you realized the first day you met her. 

You had been sitting and talking the entire morning, Wanda’s smile awakening the constant butterflies in your stomach and setting your heart alive. 

“So,” Wanda rests her chin onto her hand and leans onto her elbow. “What profession are you in?” 

You smile, “I’m an oncologist, but I much prefer the research aspect of things. I find it thrilling.” 

Wanda scrunches her nose. “You find spending countless hours in front of your computer and in a lab thrilling?” 

You laugh. “Sure do. What about you? What profession are you in?” 

“I’m an Avenger, but I work part-time as an English professor at a local university,” Wanda replies, and before you can compliment her on her work as a superhero, she asks another question, still curious about your job. “Why oncology, though?” she asks with her shiny eyes ever so inquisitive. 

“My mom died of cancer when I was 8,” you look into your coffee cup, staring at the liquid as you pop the lid off. “You can probably figure out the rest,” you give a small smile. 

Wanda frowns. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be, it was a long time ago. I’ve made peace with it, honestly.” 

“That’s really amazing though,” Wanda says, struck by how beautiful you were on the outside and inside. 

You blush. “Thanks.” Feeling overwhelmed by everything Wanda was making you feel you decide to tell a joke. “Hey, what do you call an apology written in dots and dashes?”

Wanda tilts her head curiously. “What?” 

“Re-morse code,” you give a small smile. 

Wanda takes a second to process it, but once she does, a huge grin makes its way on her face and she’s laughing. 

She’s laughing, and you want to keep hearing it for the rest of your life. 

Once she’s done, she looks at you with a shake of her head. “That was awful.” 

You shrug. “Made you laugh, though.” 

“You did,” Wanda nods. “And something tells me you’ll keep making me laugh.” 

You blush, people had never really found you funny. Nat didn’t especially. 

But here Wanda was, with her comforting smile that made you feel like you were on fire, and her soft green eyes that made you feel safe, cared for, and loved already. 

Who made you feel like you were funny for the first time in your life. 

***

“Here we are,” Wanda says, stepping out of the car and slamming the door shut. 

You sigh contently, so incredibly happy compared to the dark place you were at two years ago. Sometimes, you still felt the weight of how unloved you had felt. Of how you never felt good enough, never felt worthy of someone caring for you. And every time you ran back into your thoughts, Wanda was there to pull you out of your head and reassure you that you deserved the world. Telling you that she would do her best to give it to you. 

It all felt surreal. Gently, you hear Wanda open the car door to the passenger side. The simple action made your heart flutter. “Ready, detka?” she says, smiling at you. 

Nodding, you exit the car, planting a kiss on her lips before she shuts the door. 

Putting her sunglasses on, she comments, “You know, you’re pretty American for having a cottage. With the beach, and everything.” 

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you ask. 

“Yep, because you’re an adorable American,” she smiles, kissing you quickly. 

It wasn’t fair of her, to make you feel this much. 

***

Wanda’s on a mission in Russia, and you miss her desperately. You found yourself struggling whenever you were alone, still grappling with the feelings of whether you were enough from two years ago. Your rock was all the way on another continent, too far to reassure you of the constant echoes of awful thoughts that rang in your head. 

“Can I go with you?” you had asked as you sat on Wanda’s bed while she packed the night before with you. 

Wanda kisses your lips. “As much as I would love that, detka, I want you to be safe,” she rubs your arm. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” you say quietly. 

Wanda frowns. “I know, baby, I’m gonna miss you too. So much.” 

You nod, and as you sit quietly on her bed, Wanda can tell your head is somewhere else. 

Grabbing your hand softly, Wanda sits in front of you, staring into your eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you look away. 

Kissing your forehead gently, Wanda pulls back with encouraging and comforting eyes. “I love you,” she says softly. 

And it’s all you need, because it’s the most delicate, soft, unspoken gesture you’ve ever heard. One that screams that she cares, that she won’t leave you, that she won’t hurt you, and that she truly honestly loves you with all her heart and you can feel it radiating off of her. 

Wanda Maximoff made you feel like you were the most important person in the world to her. 

Little did you know, you truly were, and to confirm it Wanda had a ring in her back pocket which she bought a week after she started dating you with her at all times. 

“I love you too,” you reply, giving her a small smile. “I just want to be anywhere you are,” you confess as you start blushing timidly. 

“Oh? That’s cute,” Wanda teases. 

“Shut up,” you groan, hiding your face in the crook of her neck. 

Wanda laughs, kissing your temple. “I do too, detka.” 

“Really?” you pull your head away to meet her gaze. 

“Of course,” Wanda smiles. “Being with you is my favorite thing in the world. Why wouldn’t I want it all the time?” 

You blush furiously. “You know, if you keep this up–” 

“What?” she asks gently.

I might just marry you. You think, oblivious to the fact that Wanda’s already had the thought countless times. 

You shake your head with a smile. 

***

When Wanda’s on her mission, she buys a small chocolate chip cookie keychain that reminds her of you. They were your favorite food, and every Sunday, Wanda made sure to bake a fresh batch for the week so you never had to run out of one of your favorite things. 

And when she gets back, only seconds after she puts her bags down she feels her arms fill with you and her heart becomes so much bigger than it was before. She kisses you deeply, smiling to herself at the person she loves in her arms.

Whispering against your lips, she pulls the keychain out of her left back pocket, her right one carrying the ring she’s planning on proposing to you with. “I bought this for you,” she tells you, letting it dangle off of her index finger by the silver ring that she later finds out gets attached to the zipper of your favorite backpack. 

And God, Wanda would be a fool not to be eternally charmed by the way your eyes light up with joy once you see it, the happy tears in your eyes making her want to hug you so tightly and never ever let go. “I love it,” you reply, grabbing it softly as if it’s made of the most delicate china. “I love you,” you kiss her lips. 

Wanda shakes her head. “So American,” she teases, referring to your love for chocolate chip cookies.

“Yeah, but I’m your American,” you reply cheekily. 

Wanda nods, kissing you once more. “My beautiful, perfect, so American girlfriend.”  

Wanda feels her heart skip a beat when you blush all over. 

***

You’re crying. You’re crying because you saw Natasha for the first time since the two of you broke up, and her words don’t hurt any less than they did when the two of you were dating. Natasha had just seen you and Wanda, wrapped up in each other’s arms, admiring one another at Tony’s enormous birthday party. 

Once Wanda had left to go let Pietro in, who had run back all the way from Australia where he was taking a break from the superhero life, Natasha had come up to you. Ready to poison your world with her venomous tongue. 

“You know, she’ll get sick of you,” Natasha had snapped you out of your thoughts as you stared at the door where Wanda had just left. 

“What?” you reply as you turn to face her on the leather stool. Her calculating and judging eyes causing you to gulp. Even now, you still felt her hurtful words ring the bells of your insecurities back to life. 

“She’ll get sick of you,” Nat repeats. “I mean, why do you think we broke up? You’re boring, you’re rude, and you’re obsessive. All my friends told me about how you couldn’t shut up about me when we were together. I mean, clingy much?” 

“I didn’t mean–” you try. 

Nat scoffs. “Yeah, whatever.” She takes a sip of her drink.

You feel the need to apologize, for you never meant to make Nat feel suffocated that way, when suddenly a brunette witch is making her way over to you. And she looks like she’s about to rain down hellfire on Natasha. 

“Excuse me.” Wanda’s eyes narrow as she wraps an arm around your shoulder. “I believe she’s my girlfriend, Natasha.” 

“Just warning her.” Natasha shrugs. “And you.” 

You stare at the spot on your lap, deciding on whether or not to blink away the tears in your eyes or cry, because ever since you dated Natasha you had learned how to cry silently so you wouldn’t bother her. 

Wanda raises an eyebrow, and her accent comes out thicker than ever before, “And what would you be warning me about?” 

“Of her,” Natasha shrugs. 

Wanda’s eyes go red before she calms down, and her arm around you tightens in the most gentle way somehow. “I’ll give you five seconds to leave us alone.” 

“You’re gonna regret this, Wanda,” Natasha says. 

“The only person with regret is you, for never treating her the way she deserves to be treated,” Wanda replies sharply. 

Natasha scoffs, turning around. “As if she deserves anything.” 

Suddenly, Natasha’s glass explodes in her hands, ‘causing everyone in the party to look her way. You can tell it was Wanda based on the way you saw a spark of red flash in her hands briefly. 

Natasha turns and narrows her eyes venomously at Wanda, before stalking off to go clean the cut that’s very visible on her hand. 

You’re still staring at the same spot on your lap when Wanda turns to face you, cupping your cheeks in her hands as she looks at you. 

“Are you alright, milaya?” she asks, the heartbroken expression on your face making her heart drop to her stomach. You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve this at all. 

“Do you hate me?” you whisper brokenly, the tears finally escaping your eyes as you can no longer keep them at bay. 

“No, baby, no,” Wanda wipes the tears running down your cheeks with her thumbs. “I could never, ever, hate you.” 

“What did I do to make her hate me so much? What’s wrong with me?” you ask with a sob. 

“Nothing,” Wanda feels her own tears build up behind her eyes. “Nothing is wrong with you, baby, you’re the most amazing human being I know.” 

And Wanda’s heart breaks even more, as you cry more and more, silently. 

Somehow, it’s even more heartbreaking than if you were to ever make a sound. 

You cry even more as you replay tonight’s events in your head, still in the navy blue dress Wanda had picked for you for the party, telling you how pretty you looked once she saw you in it. You felt so wrong, like you didn’t deserve any of what Wanda was giving you, like she would get sick of you the same way Natasha did. Because maybe Natasha was right, maybe you didn’t deserve anything. Because if you did deserve anything, then why would Natasha treat you so awfully, why would your mom have left you as a child and why would your brother leave you too, so overridden with the pain of the lack of your mom that he couldn’t bear to watch you, leaving you with your abusive father who reeked of alcohol every night. 

The thoughts sicken you, because your mother never ever meant to have cancer. And it wasn’t your brother’s fault that he couldn’t handle a life without your beautiful, loving mother in it. And it wasn’t your father’s fault either that he had a drinking problem. 

Maybe it was all your fault. 

You hear the knock on your door, and you can tell by the pattern that it’s Wanda. “Detka, can I come in?” she says gently from the other side of the door. 

Quietly, you get up from your bed, turning the doorknob, and opening the door. The motions feel unnatural to you, like you’re some stranger who’s been playing the role of having a loving girlfriend, but your world was shattered earlier and you don’t know who you are anymore. You don’t know if you deserve anything anymore. 

“Oh, baby,” Wanda says heartbroken as she wraps you in a tight hug. 

This was your fault, seeing the sad look in her eyes you realize that you hurt Wanda. 

You hurt the one person in your life whom you never meant to hurt. 

It was all your fault. 

You hug her back, because maybe if you hug her back it would make her feel better and it would be less of your fault. 

Wanda tightens her grip on you, wanting to convey how much she loves you. Wanting to convey how much you didn’t deserve any of this. Wanting to wordlessly tell you that despite all the pain you’ve been through you handle it with so much grace, and you’re the most beautiful person Wanda’s ever met in her life. 

But Wanda can tell that you’re not okay, that your mind is somewhere else–

Then she hears you sob. And it’s the first sound of a cry that Wanda’s ever heard from you. 

And Wanda can feel the tears fall onto her shoulder and she holds you tighter, she holds you tighter and tighter until Natasha’s hurtful words are overrun by Wanda’s overwhelming love she feels for you. 

Wanda can only hope you understand what she’s saying. 

And once you’re done crying at 3 in the morning, she keeps hoping. 

***

Wanda’s worried about you, ever since Nat had spoken to you at the party you had been more quiet. More reserved. Like your mind was somewhere else.

“Baby?” she asks one morning when you’re both alone in the compound and Wanda wants to cook you breakfast. 

“Yeah?” you ask, staring absentmindedly at the sitcom running on the TV. 

You were ecstatic when the first day Wanda met you, you had both found out about your shared love for sitcoms. 

But Wanda watches you know, the complete lack of interest in Malcolm in the Middle worrying her because it was your favorite sitcom of them all and typically you would have a completely enraptured look in your eye. The same one Wanda was lucky enough to receive from you. 

Frowning, Wanda pauses in her cooking, turning the heat off the stove and coming over to meet you on the couch. 

You don’t register when Wanda sits down next to you, still lost in your thoughts as she gently grabs your hand.

“What’s going on?” she asks softly, running her thumb over the back of your hand. 

“Nothing,” you reply, sitting up slightly. 

“Detka, I know you’re not okay. And you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but just know that I care about you, ok?” Wanda kisses your forehead gently. “I’m always here if you need me.” 

You frown, feeling so guilty that you were making Wanda worried about you. You couldn’t pretend to be okay, and now you’ve hurt her even more. How long until she gets sick of you? How long until she gets sick of the feelings you give her?  

“How long–” your voice breaks. “How long until you get sick of me?” 

“What?” Wanda asks, dumbfounded. 

“I keep making you worry, keep making you need to constantly reassure me, and it must be so tiring for you, so,” you shut your eyes tightly. “How long until you don’t want me anymore?” 

Wanda’s heart breaks. “Never,” she breathes out. “I could never stop wanting you, even if I tried.” Wanda squeezes your hand tightly. “And I would never want to try.” 

“But I’m–” you bite your lip to stop a cry from coming out. “I’m so much to deal with, and I’m not even that interesting, and it would be so much easier for you to date someone who’s actually worthy of how amazing you are–” 

Wanda cuts you off with a kiss. Cupping your cheek, she states, “You are so worthy of love, Y/N.” 

You stay silent, staring back at her green eyes and feeling them pull you out of toxic puddle that was your thoughts like they always did. 

“Loving you is the greatest gift the world has ever given me,” Wanda says, rubbing her thumb against your cheek. “And I could never get sick of you. You are the most incredible thing to ever exist, and loving you, for me, is like breathing. It’s the easiest thing in the world, and it’s everywhere.” 

“I just feel like I’m putting you through a lot,” you say quietly. 

“You’re not,” Wanda shakes her head. “You’re actually making everything I go through easier than it’s ever been.”

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“Sorry for what?” Wanda asks. “This is everything I love about you.” 

You laugh. “You like when I start crying and get insecure?” 

“I like every part of you. And if you need me to calm you down every single day, I’ll do it in a heartbeat,” Wanda replies, and you smile slightly at her. “But I do hate seeing you cry.” She frowns. 

You scoff. “I hate feeling like this,” you mutter. 

“And I hate Natasha for making you feel like this,” Wanda pulls you into her side and you tuck your head into her shoulder, closing your eyes. 

“I don’t think it was just her,” you say softly. “I think it was a buildup of everything, and Nat just amped it up more. I never really worked through how much that relationship affected me before jumping into one with you.” 

Wanda nods. “Do you want me to give you some space for you to figure it out?” 

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around her waist. “I never want–” you stop yourself, worrying she’ll find you too clingy as Nat’s words ring in your head again. Space from you. 

Wanda doesn’t mean to, but your thoughts echo so loudly in your head that she can’t help but hear them. And she wants to kill Natasha all over again. “What did Natasha say to you at the party?” she asks quietly. 

“Um,” you grapple with your feelings as you relive that night, when Nat made all of your feelings of inadequacy come alive once more. Wanda frowns, rubbing her palm against your side to calm you down. “She said, that–, that you would get sick of me eventually. That I’m boring. And rude. And,” you swallow past the lump in your throat. “Too clingy.” 

“What a bitch,” Wanda mutters. 

“Do you think she’s right?” you ask Wanda, squeezing her waist tighter as your fears that Wanda will get sick of you come alive, and these are your last few moments with the person who lit up your entire world. 

“No, baby, she’s so so wrong,” Wanda replies, her eyes turning red before she looks down at you and frowns as she sees your eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

“The clingy one hurts me the most,” you whisper. “All I wanted was to love her and for her to love me back. But maybe I’m too much.” 

You recall all the times you memorized her new coffee order every few months, the countless hours you had spent re-reading her self-help books, memorizing every fact, listening to all of her favorite songs from the information you had gathered about her. And the way you felt so proud to be Natasha’s girlfriend, the greatest assassin in the world and she chose you to be her partner. How could you have not talked about her? 

Maybe it was too much? 

“I think you’re the most amazing person in the world,” Wanda says, as her powers run amok once more and she sees all the lovely gestures you had done for Natasha. “I think Nat was an idiot for not seeing how kind and loving you are. And you are never too much.” 

You look up at Wanda as she looks down at you with a small smile. Kissing your forehead softly, she says, “You’re not boring. And you’re not rude. In fact, you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met, as well as the kindest. And if someone is lucky enough to be loved by you, they should realize how rare it is to find someone as incredible as you.” 

You shake your head softly in disbelief. “How do you do it?” you ask. 

“Do what?” 

“Make me feel like I’m actually worthy of being loved.” 

Wanda kisses you deeply this time. 

“You are, I’m just the one who helps you see it.” 

Later that night, Wanda hears you on the phone with one of your oncology friends, and she hears you talk about her. How amazing she is, and how lucky you are to have her. And when she sees you flop back onto the bed through the crack of your door, an elated expression on your face, as you speak dreamily about the way Wanda dresses and the books she reads, Wanda thinks that you’re the greatest thing the world has ever created. And she knows it’s true. 

***

“Baby?” you say, turning to face Wanda in the dark in your bed. Wanda has her arm over your side, and she hums groggily as she was about to fall asleep. 

“What’s going on?” she asks, her voice still heavy with sleep.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, before slowly saying, “It’s just, I really, really, love you.” 

Wanda smiles. “You woke me up to say that?” 

“I didn’t know you were basically asleep,” you reply guiltily. “Guess the mission wore you out more than a night-shift wears me out. Sorry.” 

Wanda kisses you. “Don’t be, you’re adorable.” 

“Can I tell you something?” 

“Of course, milaya.” 

“It’s really hard to sleep when you’re next to me,” you confess.

Wanda grins into the dark. “Oh, yeah? Is it because I’m so attractive?” 

You laugh. “Yes,” you reply, and Wanda’s grin turns smug. “But it’s also because it’s so surreal that I’m with you, at all. And it’s even more surreal that you’re in my bed with me, cuddling me, and you’re so warm and soft and it just makes me want to–” 

Wanda cuts you off with a kiss. 

God, she was so in love with you. 

You grin sheepishly, “Sorry.” 

Wanda rolls her eyes. “Stop apologizing, detka.” 

“Okay,” you nod.  

“Feel better?” Wanda asks, and you understand her question. It’s been a month since Nat confronted you at the party, and moments like this were a big step for you in coming to terms with yourself overall. 

“Much,” you reply. “Especially because you’re here.” 

Wanda smiles. “I’m glad.” 

Wanda’s heart swells when she cuddles you once more, and you hold her hand that’s around your middle as tightly as you can. She feels an overwhelming love for you, and she thinks about the ring in her desk drawer back in her room. 

***

Wanda’s laughing at your joke on the couch. Wanda’s the only one who has ever laughed at your jokes, and it makes you feel so much lighter than ever before, while also making you fall deeper and deeper in love with the woman you’re lucky enough to call your girlfriend. 

“You know, you’re the only person who’s ever laughed at my jokes,” you say. 

Wanda smiles. “Well, then everyone else doesn’t have as sophisticated sense of humor as we do.” 

You give her an incredulous look. “The first day I met you, you laughed at a stupid pun I made.” 

“Exactly,” Wanda shrugs. “Sophisticated.” 

You shake your head with a smile, taking a sip of your tea as your heart feels bigger and more full than you ever thought possible.

And Wanda watches you, awestruck at your striking beauty that she struggles to believe is reality. 

***

Wanda’s sick. Wanda’s sick and you’re worried because your girlfriend is in pain and you don’t want her to be. 

When you came in this morning back from your shift in the hospital, excited to see her, your heart had dropped at seeing her pained expression in bed, her voice croaky and her brows furrowed as she battled the feeling of nausea that overcame her. Not to mention her shivers as her high fever caused her even more misery. 

You sat down on the edge of her bed, softly brushing away the strands of hair that stuck to her forehead due to her high temperature, ‘causing Wanda to stir eventually. 

Slowly opening her eyes, her eyes lit up as she greeted you with a soft smile. “Hi,” she whispered. 

Frowning, you put the back of your hand against her forehead. “Baby, you’re warm,” you told her, suddenly very worried. 

“I’m fine,” Wanda replied, trying to sit up but letting out a groan. “I’m not fine,” she joked, as you helped her lay back down.

“Stay here, I’ll go get you some medicine,” you said, kissing her forehead quickly before heading to the cabinets full of medicine in the bathroom.

“Don’t take too long, Dr. L/N,” Wanda said sleepily as she shut her eyes once more, trying her best to fight her exhaustion so she would still be awake when you came back. 

Shaking your head with a smile, you searched through the cabinets to find the proper medication to give her, already planning how you were going to take care of her the rest of the day and for as long as she needed you while she combatted her illness. Despite your worry, you were grateful that you were finally able to take care of your girlfriend, the same way she did to you every single day. 

Wanda’s condition had subsided slightly, particularly her fever which had gone down quite a bit, but she was still feeling most of the effects of the sickness. 

“Wands,” you say softly, putting the bowl of soup on her nightstand as you kneel down on her side to wake her up gently with a kiss on her cheek. 

Wanda wakes from her slumber with a groan, still slightly disoriented causing you to frown.  

“Is your fever back?” you ask, putting the back of your hand on her forehead like you had done previously this morning. It wasn’t as hot as before, calming your worry a bit. 

Wanda shakes her head before resting it on your shoulder, letting out a sigh. “You’re so good,” she says, turning her head to kiss your neck gently.

“Good at what?” you say with a laugh. 

“Just good,” she says contently, relaxing in your presence. 

“I made you some soup,” you tell her, kissing her temple as she hums. 

“I don’t want it,” she says, muffled by your shirt. 

“I’ll stay with you if you have a couple bites,” you offer. 

Wanda removes her head from your shoulder and raises a brow. “You were going to stay with me anyways,” she says matter-of-factly, trying her best to appear intimidating.  

You smile at her cute expression. Wanda could never be intimidating, especially now when her hair was slightly tousled from her pillow and she was wearing an old T-shirt of yours that was full of wrinkles from her time in bed. 

She was about as intimidating as a baby sea otter. 

“Not anymore,” you shrug, ‘causing Wanda to narrow her eyes slightly. 

“Well, you better,” she retorts, crossing her arms over her chest. “Otherwise I’m never getting over this fever.” 

You smile once more. 

“You know, you’re really cute when you’re sick.” 

“You’re insufferable when I’m sick.”  

You laugh, “Please, will you have some soup?” 

“Only if you cuddle with me when I’m better.”

“I’ll cuddle you right now if you eat a couple spoonfuls,” you say. “I’ll even feed you.”

“I don’t want to get you sick,” Wanda says before her eyes narrow at you once more. “Also, I’m not a child.” 

“I got my flu shot last month,” you tell her, reassuring her worries. “And you’re kinda acting like one,” you tease, before kissing her forehead. “But it’s really cute.” 

Finally, Wanda relents. “Fine, I’ll have some soup.” 

“Thank you, love.” 

You grab the soup from the nightstand and hand it to her, and as she eats you rest your head on her shoulder, one of Wanda’s top 3 favorite ways to be next to you.  

She eats about half before she’s full, and you tell her you’re proud of her before heading off to the kitchen to put the bowl away. 

However, as you get up from her bed, Wanda stops you by grabbing your wrist. 

“Where are you going?” she asks, sitting up slightly as she was already laying back down with the blankets tucked under her chin. 

“To put the bowl away,” you respond gently. “Keeping it in your room might make it start to smell like chicken noodle.” 

Wanda scrunches her nose, accepting your answer quickly making you laugh. 

But as you’re about to leave, you see Wanda watching you, staying sitting up and you can tell that it’s because she wants to wait for you to come back. 

Making your way back over, you gently tell her, “Go back to sleep,” you brush a strand of hair away from her eyes and tuck it behind her ear. “You’re nauseated again, I can tell.” 

“Will you be here when I wake up?” she asks. 

“Of course,” you kiss the tip of her nose. 

And when she lies back down, groggily croaking out the words, “so american,” most likely commenting on the chicken noodle soup, you smile, you smile because you know that’s Wanda’s way of saying she loves you. 

But to Wanda, it’s also her way of saying she wants to marry you. 

***

“This isn’t fair,” you pout as Wanda beats you in Mario Kart once again. 

She had been better for about a week, and she was back to herself which you were ecstatic  about. 

“Baby, how is this not fair,” she laughs.

“You’re way better than me! You had all those years where you played against Pietro, who’s unbeatable, and I only learned ‘cause Sam forced me to when no one else was available!” You cross your arms over your chest. 

Wanda smiles at the cute pout on your face before kissing you softly, and your expression eases up a bit. 

“We can play something else if you want,” she offers, pecking your lips once more. 

“Can I just cuddle you?” you ask, suddenly feeling very shy. 

“You don’t even have to ask,” Wanda says, opening her arms for you to lay down on her, as she leans back against the pillow of the couch, your head resting on her chest as you’re comforted by the sound of her heartbeat. 

You wrap your arms around her waist as she grabs the blanket from the other side of the couch, and pulls it over the two of you, making sure you’re completely covered from the neck down before she tightens her arms around you. 

“I love you,” you say softly, closing your eyes as you relax to the feeling of Wanda stroking your hair gently as you lay on her chest. 

“I love you too, detka. So much,” she says, watching as sleep starts to overcome you due to how exhausted you were from being on call for the past two weeks. 

“You know, it’s really not fair,” you mutter sleepily. 

“What, me winning over 10 times in a row on the Wii?” she laughs. 

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s not fair of you to make me feel this much.” 

Wanda responds by kissing your forehead gently, and you burrow deeper into her chest as you fall into a deep slumber. 

Wanda smiles, content and so so happy as she watches you, feeling the weight of the ring in her back pocket. 

***

It was your one year anniversary, and Wanda had planned a small weekend getaway for the two of you as you had been exhausted due to a bunch of new projects you were taking on. 

Wanda was so proud of you, but a lot of the time she felt worried because of how heavy of a workload you were taking on. 

You were planning on coming over later tonight, as you had to work extra hours in the hospital. 

So, to make you feel better and to let you know about your vacation Wanda made sure wouldn’t interfere with your schedule, she had spent all day cooking you a wonderful 3-course meal which consisted of all of your favorite foods. As well as a large batch of chocolate chip cookies that would last you a solid month so long as you put them in the freezer. 

She smiled at the thought of you as she rolled out the homemade pasta she was making you, how you had turned her world upside down as she navigated the unfamiliar territory of being the newest and youngest Avenger, just having you made her feel like she was so much better than before, and Wanda fell so so deeply in love with you and she never wanted to stop. 

She wanted to give you the world. 

She thought about how kind you were, how you cared so deeply for everyone, always stopping to help wherever and whenever you could. Wanda felt so special to be the partner of someone so undeniably incredible.

Suddenly, the oven beeps, snapping her out of her thoughts as she pulls out the chicken to go along with your pasta, the appetizer of calamari already prepared as it layed on a wire rack, as well as the chocolate chip cookies which she had prepared earlier in the day to make sure she had time to make enough.  

Once she finished up, she plated the table for the two of you as she had kicked everyone out for her special dinner with you, wanting you all to herself. She smiled as she lit the candles and set up the plates along with the knives and forks, laying the plate of calamari in the middle as she kept her entree and dessert a secret from you. 

Hearing her phone go off, she grins once she sees that you’ve texted that you’ve just arrived. 

Taking her apron off as quickly as possible, she rushes downstairs to open the door for you, exhilarated at the thought of seeing you. 

Swinging the door open, you smile softly at her while she grins, bursting forward to wrap you in a tight hug. 

“Hi,” you laugh, wrapping your arms around her. “Happy anniversary.”  

“Can you take a break from doctoring once in a while?” she mutters into your neck. 

“I wish,” you say, wrapping your arms tighter around her. 

Once she lets go, she grabs your hand to pull you upstairs, excited to surprise you. 

“Wanda, what’s the rush?” you ask as you make your way up the stairs. 

“I missed you too much, come on!” she says, making you laugh. 

Once you finally make it to the top floor, Wanda stops you from walking any further. “Close your eyes,” she says. 

You shoot her a look. 

“Trust me,” she says, pecking your lips quickly. 

Closing your eyes, you say, “What now?” 

“Okay, I’m gonna guide you,” she says excitedly as she stands behind you, starting to lead you to the dining room table. 

“This is not how I expected our anniversary to go.” 

“Just trust me,” Wanda says. 

Nodding, you continue to walk in the direction Wanda guides you before she stops you in place. 

“Okay, ready?” she says and you nod. “Three, two, one, open your eyes!” 

You open your eyes, and they widen in shock as you see the most beautiful candlelit dinner you’ve ever seen in your life. 

Wanda has swapped out the regular dining room table for a round one covered in a shiny white tablecloth, as well as swapped out the regular wooden chairs for more expensive looking ones that match the elegance of the table. The plates and utensils are arranged perfectly, along with the restaurant quality napkins that were beautifully folded so they were standing upright, absolutely nothing was out of place, and the calamari in the middle was cooked to perfection, the smell wafting towards you no doubt making you hungry. 

It looked like Wanda had taken the appearance of a michelin star restaurant and copied it to perfection right here in the Avengers compound.

But what was even more unbelievable was the string of lights she had arranged all throughout the room, from every nook and cranny, the lights brought a hope to the dinner that nearly brought tears to your eyes at how romantic and calm they made the room feel.  

And finally, to top it all off, right in the middle of the array of candles on the table was a large vase of your favorite flowers. 

Flowers you had only ever mentioned to her once when she asked you, and you had told her not to worry about it because you could only ever get them in New Zealand.  

“What do you think?” she asks, coming up behind you and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. 

You quickly turn to wrap her in a tight hug, squeezing so tightly you’re surprised she can even breathe. “I love you,” you breathe out. “So much.”  

Wanda laughs. “Does that mean you like it?” she says teasingly before continuing, “I love you too,” she kisses the crown of your head. 

Burrowing deeper into her, you mumble, “I can’t believe...I can’t believe I’m really here.” 

You remember how awful you felt 2 years ago, how hopeless you felt. How unworthy you felt. Now, standing here in Wanda’s arms, who you’re still convinced is much too good to be true, feeling so so loved, everything feels surreal. 

“I have the same thought about you,” Wanda says, her powers running amok as she accidentally reads your mind again and hears your thoughts about her. “You’re too good. Sometimes I can’t believe you exist.” 

“Stop,” you say as your cheeks turn red against her neck. 

“Happy anniversary,” she says softly. “I have another surprise for you.” 

That makes you look up. “What is it?” 

“Join me for dinner and I’ll tell you,” she says cheekily. 

“Why can’t you tell me now?” You pout. 

“Nice try, but I didn’t spend all day cooking this meal for nothing.” She runs her hands up and down your arms. “Besides, you deserve a nice relaxing dinner after all the work you’ve done the past few weeks.” 

You look up at her with a shimmering look in your eyes and a lovesick smile on your face. 

“What?” she laughs. 

“Just happy,” you reply, kissing her lips. 

“You deserve it,” Wanda says easily. “Now come on!”

She leads you over to the table by the hand, pulling out your chair for you as you sit down, planting a quick kiss on your lips before sitting down across from you. 

You share countless smiles and laughs as you have the best dinner of your life, zoning out a couple times as Wanda talks and you simply admire her for everything she is. 

And as you bite into your chocolate chip cookie after Wanda has revealed the enormous batch she made, she’s telling you what the surprise from earlier was. 

“So, I’ve checked your schedule,” she says excitedly. “And since you’re free this weekend I booked us a vacation in Palm Springs! The weather’s perfect, and you’ll finally get to relax after working so hard, plus, they have amazing grass tennis courts and I know you’ve been wanting to get back into playing since you don’t have much time for it anymore–” 

“Wanda,” you cut off softly, shaking your head. 

You can’t even begin to comprehend that tonight is real at all. 

“What?” she asks, looking at you with a smile.

“Every time I start to think you couldn’t get more perfect you just…” 

“I get the same feeling about you,” she says, making you blush. “But I’m not perfect.” She takes a hold of both of your hands and rubs her thumbs over the backs softly. “However, I do love you, so much, and I want to show it.” 

“Well, you’re perfect for me,” you reply, meeting her gaze and smiling softly as the two of you just stare at each other. But suddenly, it clicks in your head. “How did you know I used to play tennis?” 

Wanda blushes before she starts off shyly, “Um, before we started dating I went to your hospital to see if you were there, but you weren’t so I may have asked your oncology friends a couple things about you.” 

“So you stalked me?” you tease. 

“I couldn’t help it I had a crush on you!” she defends, letting go of your hands and putting her head into her arms. “I still have a crush on you.” 

“How embarrassing,” you comment with a chuckle. 

“It’s not embarrassing,” she defends as she lifts her head from her arms. “Have you seen how pretty you are?” 

You blush, ducking your head down so your hair covers your face slightly. Even after a year of dating Wanda always managed to fluster you to no end. 

“Wow, now who’s embarrassed,” Wanda teases back. 

“Shut up, I hate you,” you say, embarrassed. 

“Wow, that’s not very American of you,” she says with a chuckle. 

“Take that back,” you say, lifting your head and narrowing your eyes at her. 

“If you say yes to the Palm Springs trip.” 

“I thought I already said yes.” 

“Not verbally,” she emphasizes. 

“I’ll go anywhere you go,” you say easily. 

“Cute cop-out, but I need the word yes,” she says, sitting up and kissing your lips quickly before sitting back down. 

“Yes,” you relent with a smile. “I’ll go to Palm Springs with you.” 

“Good,” she smiles before a mischievous twinkle brings itself out in her eyes. “So I’ll get to watch you play tennis all weekend. I can already imagine how hot that’ll be…” 

“Why do you insist on teasing me?” 

“‘Cause you look so cute when you’re flustered.” 

You shake your head, taking a bite of your chocolate chip cookie to distract yourself from the way Wanda was making you feel. 

But instead she decides to mess with you even more, softly saying the words “so american” as she watches you. 

And Wanda telling you she loves you made you the most flustered of all. 

***

You had gotten Wanda a necklace for your anniversary, and she had gotten you a bracelet with both of your initials on them. 

Now, waking up in your hotel in Palm Springs, you smile once you see the bracelet on your wrist. You turn in bed to see if Wanda was there, but you frown once you see the empty spot next to you. 

Where was she? 

You wonder where she could be, because she would never leave to go to breakfast without you, nor would she head out without telling you where she was going after waking you up with a soft kiss. 

You don’t know where she could have gone. 

But soon, your question is answered as she enters the room, a large tray of your favorite breakfast foods in her hands as she greets you with a smile. 

You tilt your head in confusion. 

“Hi,” she says, setting down the tray and kissing you on the lips. “I made you breakfast.” 

Your heart flutters and your stomach fills with butterflies. “How did you manage to do this?” 

“Turns out that locked room isn’t a closet, but a tiny kitchen,” she explains, pointing to the aforementioned room. “I found out after I woke up early this morning by accident.” 

“I missed you,” you say, hugging her side. “Where’d you get the food from?” 

“Magic,” she replies easily.

“Oh, right, I forgot I’m dating a witch,” you chuckle, hugging her tighter. 

“I’m not a witch,” she says defiantly. “I was voted most powerful Avenger at Tony’s ceremony last year.” 

“They’re right,” you say, looking over to the breakfast tray and smiling once you see the gorgeous rose that lays on its side. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not a witch.” 

“I’m a not-witch who’s really in love with you.” 

“And I’m a not-doctor who’s really in love with you.” 

“Well, then we agree to disagree,” she says, putting the tray in front of you, silently telling you to start enjoying your meal. 

“Mhm,” you say, eating a forkful of the omelet she had prepared and moaning at the taste. “Where’d you learn to cook?” 

“My mother taught me, back in Sokovia,” she says quickly, heat flushing to her cheeks after she hears the sound you had made. Shifting from her position on the bed to move behind you, she gently shifts you forward slightly so she can sit behind you and outstretch her legs as she wraps her arms around your middle.  

You lean your head back to rest against her shoulder. “She taught you really well,” you say, closing your eyes. 

“Detka, are you gonna fall asleep while eating breakfast?” she laughs. 

“No, I’m just savoring this moment,” you reply, kissing her shoulder. “And I want to savor this breakfast too.” 

“Yeah? I’m that good?” she says with a chuckle. 

“You are,” you say, opening your eyes to look up at her. “In fact, I might marry you right now if you keep this up.” 

“I’d do it every day just for you,” she replies, kissing your lips. 

And when you smile at her, that beautiful smile that makes Wanda’s heart beat faster than she can comprehend, she seriously considers pulling out the ring from her pocket to propose to you right in your hotel room. 

***

“Baby? Wake up,” Wanda whispers, bright and early in the morning on September 8th. 

You groan, not wanting to get up. 

Wanda laughs. “Come on, it’s your birthday,” she says, kissing you on your forehead. 

“Doesn’t that mean I should get to sleep in,” you grumble, burying yourself deeper into the pillows. “Come cuddle with me,” you say, sleepily patting the spot next to you where Wanda had slept last night. 

“As much as I would love to, if I cuddle you right now you’re only gonna end up sleeping for another hour. And there’s a bunch of things prepared for your special day,” she says softly. 

“Another hour sounds great, thanks,” you mumble as you start to feel yourself drift off. 

“No, no, no, come on!” she laughs, gently pulling the blankets off your body. 

“It’s cold,” you groan as the air of the room starts to wash over your body.

“Because you and I sleep in negative degrees,” Wanda says teasingly before gently sitting down on your bed to hug you tightly. 

After a few minutes, you accept your fate as you sit up with a sigh against the headboard, Wanda letting go of you to grab the glass of water on your nightstand to hand to you. 

“Happy birthday,” she says softly as you take a sip of the water and she watches you with a smile. 

You kiss her gently. “Thanks.” 

“How’d you sleep?” she asks. 

“Really well.” You grin. “I got to cuddle with you all night.” 

“Last night must have helped too–” 

“I will throw this water in your face if you finish that sentence,” you cut her off, starting to blush. 

“I wouldn’t mind,” she says with a smirk. “You’re really hot when you’re angry.” 

“So, theoretically if I yelled at you, you’d just end up wanting to have sex?” 

“First,” she says. “You would never yell at me.” You give her a look, and she just smiles smugly because she knows she’s right. You were way too nice to ever yell at anyone. Even animals. “And second, yes, that’s usually how that works.” 

“You’re a middle school boy,” you say with a shake of your head. 

Wanda just smiles before kissing you deeply. “Can’t help it.” She brushes a strand of hair away from your face. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” 

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” you say back. 

Wanda grins. “Ready for your birthday?” she asks, standing up from the bed and holding out her hand for you to take. 

You nod, smiling as you take it and stand up, kissing her quickly before she starts to take you through the day she had planned. 

And when you’re back, cutting into your birthday cake to hand out to the team members (Natasha was on a mission in Africa) which Wanda had baked, you’re back after a sunrise picnic full of your favorite foods, a relaxing walk across the beach, lunch at your favorite diner, a tour of your favorite locations in New York City as well as somehow meeting your favorite tennis player on the Arthur Ashe stadium of the US Open (you have absolutely no clue how Wanda pulled that off), you turn to your incredible girlfriend, who’s already staring at you with an adoring gaze in her eyes. 

Softly, you say, “I’m so in love with you.” 

You never knew your heart could ever feel this full. 

“I’m so in love with you too,” she replies, kissing you in the most gentle way yet somehow still communicating the deepest sense of passion. “Happy 24th, detka.” 

You want to cry, you want to cry the happiest tears of your life because, god, you have no idea how you got so lucky to have this woman in your life. 

But instead, you kiss her on the lips, hoping it says everything you need to. 

And Wanda knows exactly what you’re saying. 

***

“Oh, my god, what if it’s too much!” you ramble to Yelena as you pace back and forth in your apartment back home. 

“You’ve been dating her for 4 years, you idiot,” Yelena replies, rolling her eyes. 

“Exactly! What if this is like a 5-year thing, or 7 years– Or, god, I don’t know!” 

“Y/N,” she says, grabbing your attention. “Listen, this is ridiculous. That girl is so disgustingly in love with you, you could tell her you’ve hated her all this time and she would still think you gave her the sun or something.” 

You frown. “I could never hate Wanda.” 

“God, you two are insufferable,” Yelena sighs. 

But Yelena’s secretly so happy to see that you’ve finally found someone who treats you the way you deserve to be treated. 

“Hey!” 

“For God’s sake, just go tell her you don’t like ravioli.” 

“It’s her favorite food! We eat it every Thursday just for her!” 

“It’s actually you who’s her favorite food.”

“What? Yelena, I swear–” 

Later that day, Wanda accepts your revelation with a smile on her face and a kiss on your cheek. 

***

“Wanda,” you say softly as you two walk hand-in-hand through the streets of New York. 

“Yeah?” she says, turning to face you with a small smile. 

“So, I don’t want to assume this,” you pause, fidgeting with your fingers nervously. “But, will you go out to dinner with me?” 

Wanda grins. “We’ve been dating for four years and you don’t want to assume that I’ll go to dinner with you?” 

“Well, you might be busy!” you defend. 

Wanda laughs. “I’m never too busy for you, milaya.” 

“You’re just saying that. What if there’s a criminal who shows up out of the blue and you’re needed for superhero business or something…” 

“Then we’ll reschedule,” Wanda says, shrugging. “And I’ll make sure I always have time for you.” 

You bite your lip anxiously. “What if…what if you don’t come back one day?” your voice trembles. 

“Oh, baby,” Wanda says, hugging you. “I’ll always come back to you.” 

“You can’t know that,” you mumble into her shirt. 

“But I do,” she says, holding you by your shoulders and pulling away slightly. “Because you’re worth every bit fighting for, and I’ll always make sure that I keep fighting until I see your face again.” 

Wanda frowns as she watches the tears roll down your cheeks. 

Wiping them away with her thumb, she says softly, “I love you. I’ll always come back to the person I love most in the world.” 

“I love you too,” you reply, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” she tells you. “I’m always happy to care for you.” 

“I’m really hopelessly in love with you,” you say quietly only for Wanda to hear. 

“The feeling’s mutual, detka.” 

***

Wanda was going to propose to you tonight. 

It was almost Christmas, which she had found out in your first year of dating was your favorite time of year (besides her birthday or your guys’ anniversary) because it made you feel like you belonged somewhere. 

Wanda smiled while she watched you from the couch, biting the nail of your thumb as you thought carefully of which ornament to put next on the Christmas tree. 

She was so in love with you, your work ethic, how much you cared for her, how loved you made her feel. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with you. 

“Wanda?” you ask, snapping her out of her thoughts. 

“Yeah, detka?” she replies, looking over at you. 

You point to the box of blue and silver ornaments by her feet. “Can you pass me the silver one shaped like a Christmas tree?” 

Nodding, she grabs the ornament from the box and makes her way over to you, hugging you from behind as you placed it carefully on the branch only a little bit taller than you. 

“How does it look?” you ask with a smile, turning your head slightly to kiss her on the cheek. 

“Even better than last year,” she replies, squeezing you tighter. 

If someone didn’t stop her soon, she was going to propose to you right then and there. 

In order to stop herself, she clears her throat and steps back from you a bit, letting go, hoping you don’t notice her actions. 

However, you know her too well, and you turn to look at her with a small furrow of your brows. 

Wanda gives an awkward smile. “Um, I’m gonna get started on the cookies,” she says, pointing towards the kitchen. 

“Okay,” you say slowly. 

Wanda nods, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving you to head towards the previously mentioned room. 

Once Wanda’s in the kitchen, she lets out a sigh, wondering how she was going to get through the day without breaking down due to her nerves. Wanda checked her back pocket, making sure the ring was still there, and felt a sense of relief once she felt it’s black box. 

She had it planned perfectly. After tonight’s holiday party with the team (which she had exclusively made sure Natasha could not make it), she was going to take you to the coffee shop where you two had first met, then she was going to take you to Shakespeare’s garden where you two had first admitted you loved each other, and she was going to officially propose to you at the firework show she had begged Tony to help her host. 

Everything had to be perfect. 

“Wanda?” you startled her out of her thoughts as you knocked on the doorway. Furrowing your brows, you ask, “are you alright?”

“What? Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine…” Wanda replies awkwardly, looking down at her feet and shifting awkwardly. 

You laugh slightly, “Baby, you haven’t even started on the cookies.” You walk over to her, seeing nothing but two eggs on the counter in front of her and nothing else. 

Wanda gulps slightly at your close proximity. How stupid that she had been dating you for 6 years yet you still made her feel like a teenager in high school. “I did…” she says weakly. 

“Oh yeah?” you tease. “How delicious if we left out two eggs with milk for Old St. Nick?” You pick up an egg between your fingers to show her. 

“It’ll give him something new to try,” Wanda shrugs. 

Sighing, you put the egg down, and cup your girlfriend’s cheeks in your hands, rubbing your thumbs over them. “What’s going on?” you say gently. 

“Just nervous,” Wanda admits. 

“Nervous for what?” you ask, brushing a tendril of hair away from her face. 

“You make me nervous,” Wanda says, relenting as she rests her forehead on your shoulder. “You’re so perfect,” she mumbles into your shirt.

Your heart feels like it might explode. “I don’t understand,” you say as you shake your head. “How are you the nervous one yet somehow you still make me feel like I’m gonna burst with happiness?” 

Wanda smiles against your shirt. “It’s ‘cause I love you.”

“And I love you,” you reply.  

“You know, we still have about 2 hours until Tony’s party…” she says suggestively, starting to kiss her way up your neck. 

“More than enough time for you to help me finish the tree,” you say lightheartedly. 

Wanda groans. “I hate you.” 

“Too late, you’re stuck with me already.” You grin as you grab her hand and lead her into the living room, the cookies unspokenly abandoned. 

Little did you know, Wanda wanted nothing more than to be stuck with you for the rest of her life. 

And tonight, she was going to make it official. 

***

“Why the fuck is it so cold,” Wanda muttered, rubbing her bare arms to warm herself up, before intertwining your hands once again. “It’s way colder than the temperature you and I sleep in.” 

“Because Pepper’s here,” you say easily. “And Tony turns the place into an ice box just for her.” 

“Can’t he just invite some sort of nano-machine that keeps it cold for her all the time? He’s got the money,” Wanda says bitterly. 

You chuckle. “Come on, grumpy,” you start to pull her onto the dance floor. “This ought to warm you up.” 

Wanda accepts as you wrap your arms around her shoulders and she wraps hers around your waist, the two of you becoming lost in your own little world as you admire one another in your respective dresses. 

“You look so pretty,” she tells you, awestruck at your beauty. 

“So do you,” you say, taking her in before resting your head on her shoulder, swaying as the two of you try to stay as close as you possibly can. 

Wanda closes her eyes as she rests her cheek on the crown of your head, feeling so content with you in her arms. 

“When did you first know?” you whisper next to her ear. 

“When you made that stupid pun,” Wanda says, and she giggles once she hears you groan in embarrassment. 

“That’s the worst one you could’ve said,” you say, lifting your head up from her shoulder to meet her gaze.

“Can’t help it,” she says, kissing you quickly. “It was so adorable.” 

“I still think it’s insane that you actually find me funny,” you shake your head. 

“I’ll laugh at all your jokes,” she replies easily. “It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you.”

“Are all Sokovians this romantic?” 

“Are all Americans this incredible?” 

You both grin stupidly at each other before the two of you can’t take it and kiss each other deeply, pouring every ounce of love you feel for one another.  

“Nope,” Wanda says as she pulls away. “Just my so American girlfriend.” 

You smile, kissing her again, and again, and again. 

And Wanda thinks it wasn’t fair of you either, to make her feel this much. 

***

“Wanda, where are we going?” you laugh as she pulls you through the streets of New York. 

“I need to show you something, come on!” she says, stopping once you realize where she’s brought the two of you. 

The coffee shop where you first met. 

“What are we doing here?” you ask, unable to stop the cheesy grin that makes its way onto your face. 

“It’s a surprise, come on,” she replies, opening the door for you and letting you in. Once she shuts the door behind her, you turn, and your eyes soften once you see the shiny look in her eyes. “I’m taking you on a tour,” she says, guiding you to the back table where you two had first spoken. 

“A tour of what?” you say, smiling as you follow her. 

“A tour of how much I love you.” 

And Wanda only falls deeper and deeper in love once she sees the happy tears in your eyes when she reveals your coffee cup from when the two of you had first met, which she had kept all this time. 

***

“No way,” you say with awe as your next stop comes into your line of sight, the coffee cup held safely in your hand at your side. 

“And I re-made the batch of cookies we shared that day,” Wanda said, pulling a tupperware of cookies from behind her back as you follow her onto the bridge of Shakespeare’s garden. 

“What made you do all this?” you ask, shaking your head in disbelief as you come up to her to wrap your arms around her shoulders. 

“It’s a surprise,” she replies, kissing you. “But for now, I want you to know how much you mean to me.” 

“I do,” you say easily. “Every day.” 

“Good,” Wanda grins. “And I’m gonna keep showing you.” 

***

Wanda might not even propose tonight. 

In fact, she doesn’t know if she’ll even remember as she’s lost in awe at how beautiful you look under the stars, holding the rail that separates you from the body of water in front of you while standing on top of a craggly rock, the booming fireworks causing your eyes to shine in a way that makes Wanda want to capture this moment forever.

But, she’s on a mission. 

And when it came to you, Wanda always put her best foot forward. 

“They’re so beautiful,” you say, completely in awe as you watch the colors explode in the sky. 

“Just like you,” Wanda says softly. 

“You know, I still really want to know why you did all this,” you say, turning to her and smiling once you see her already watching you. “I didn’t miss any special date, did I?” 

“Of course you didn’t, your google calendar is already filled to the brim,” she replies with a teasing roll of her eyes. 

“Well, if I didn’t have everything booked then you would forget all of your check-up appointments with your doctor,” you reply cheekily.

“You’re already a doctor.” 

“Not the right kind of doctor.” 

“You’re actually exactly my kind of doctor,” Wanda flirts, making you blush. 

“I hate you. That was awful,” you say as you turn away. 

And as you watch the fireworks in the sky once again, Wanda decides, now’s the time. 

Taking a deep breath and swallowing her nerves, she gets down on one knee. 

Then, almost robotically, she pulls out the ring, opening the box slowly, as if any sudden movement would cause the whole thing to shatter. 

She just needed you to turn her way. 

To turn your head slightly and see her message for you. 

I want to spend the rest of my life by your side. 

It feels as if time has stopped. 

All she feels is the beating of her heart through her chest, the blood pounding in her ears, and her nerves washing over her over and over again– and all she needs is for you to look.  

It feels like hours before you–

Then, you do. 

And it’s slow, and careful, and gentle, and so you.  

You gasp. 

And Wanda shakily breathes out, “Will you marry me, detka?” 

Both of your hands cover your mouth, and tears build in your eyes. 

And Wanda feels the happiest she has ever felt–

When you croak out a yes. 

Wanda wants to keep this moment forever. She wants to remember how full her heart feels when she slips the ring onto your finger. The feel of your lips on her own when you kiss her hard through both of your tears and your laughs of disbelief. 

It’s the happiest day of her life. 

And it’s the happiest day of yours, too. 

***

“I’m so, so, in love with you,” you say as the two of you walk back to your shared home, wrapped in each other’s arms. 

“I’m so in love with you too, detka,” Wanda replies, kissing your temple as she holds you close. 

“When you were a kid, did you ever think you were going to have an American girlfriend?” you chuckle. 

“I never did,” Wanda admits with a smile. “But I couldn’t be happier that I ended up with a beautiful, so American fiancée.” 

You blush at the new title, hiding your reddening face in your fiancée’s neck. “Tonight doesn’t even feel real,” you mumble after a moment. 

Wanda laughs slightly. “Yeah, I know the feeling.” 

Suddenly, out of curiosity, you ask, “When did you buy that ring?” 

“A week after we started dating,” Wanda says resolutely. 

“What?” Your head snaps up from her neck. 

“I just knew,” Wanda says, kissing the tip of your nose. “I knew you were going to be my wife.” 

“That’s…” you shake your head in disbelief. “Wow.” 

Wanda pulls you closer to her. “It was the easiest thing I’ve ever known. Wanna know why?” 

“Why?” you ask. 

“Because, from the first day I met you, I knew, you were everything to me. And you still are.” 

Your eyes start to water. “I’m everything to you?” 

“You are,” Wanda nods, kissing the crown of your head with so much tenderness it makes you want to cry. 

But, you don’t start to cry because of the kiss. 

And you don’t start to cry out of joy although you really, really want to. 

No. The tears finally escape your eyes as you realize that you finally have everything you’ve ever wanted. 

That you’re finally, finally everything to somebody else. 

“You’re everything to me too.” 

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #28

My Beloved

Imagine dis…

You know, I like misunderstandings…

I saw a bunch of prompts that Danny is the mother of Ellie and Dan who is angry and will destroy the world in the future.

I also saw a bunch of prompts of Danny and Phantom separating themselves and acting like two individual beings but having to be in proximity or else there would be consequences.

But I didn’t see anything about combining the two things…

HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE

…

Daniel “Danny” Fenton knew that he had many powers, that kept on growing and appearing at the heat of the moment. He would sometimes forget how many powers he had due to his never-ending list. He has powers that he likes to use often, like levitation, flight, intangibility, his ghostly wail, and many more… But even he has a favorite, his duplication power.

Unlike Vlad who can create multiple clones of himself to do his bidding, he can only create one.

Now don’t go on and underestimate him just because he can only create one despite Vlad making multiple and who is also a halfa.

…

His clone is unique, when he first discovered this power of his he was all alone in the house full of guns to kill him when a passing thought passed his mind. Wes was getting on his nerves with how he adamantly tried to prove that he was Phantom. He knew the consequences when the people knew the truth, especially his parents, every time he closed his eyes it always showed him and his parents at the other end of the dissecting table.

He kept on saving them, poor animal ghosts who had just stumbled through the portal. He kept on stuffing his face with his pillows just to block out the screams.

He had just blinked, one moment he was all alone and all of a sudden another appeared in front of him.

He was startled at the notion while the clone looked at him with interest.

The clone was not human-HIM per se, but it was the ghostly-HIM aka Phantom but with more ghostly attributes.

Snow white hair that seems to sway, taller by a few feet, pointed ears, fanged teeth, skin so blue, and white freckles that seem to give off a faint glow.

He tried going ghost but was unable to do so, what he can do is a weaker version of flight, intangibility, and invisibility. While Phantom got most if not all of his powers whenever he went ghost.

At first, he was ecstatic with this new power of his not only he can throw people off who are looking too deeply into Phantom’s identity and put an end to Wes’s chatter but with this new power of his he can finally have some sort of normalcy.

But after a few minutes, he began to feel fatigued and nauseous, Phantom slowly moved towards Danny and merged himself with his human half causing a faint white glow all over his body that he got used to whenever he was going ghost.

It was a few minutes, Danny thought to himself, but it was enough to not only create a separation between the kid who always hides in the bathroom or disappears whenever there is a ghost attack and a ghost kid who looks the same age as he and only appears whenever he disappears.

But it was enough.

…

Everything was great, as Phantom was able to deal with the ghosts that constantly invaded his hometown but also, he is slowly bringing his grades up from where it was before the accident. He also created an alibi for himself so people will know that both Phantom and Danny and two separate people.

Both sides were able to go on separated from each other the more time they spent separated

…

After a few days, something also began to change.

Phantom would sometimes make a joke or a quip about death or even puns that made Danny laugh. Phantom would be more serious whenever they got too far from each other, small things that made both Danny and Phantom different from one another from an outside perspective.

Both made a mental connection to each other.

Not like romantically, but more of a deep platonic love for each other.

Devotion to each of their other halves. So deep that one might double-take whenever they saw the two.

Danny loves his friends and family but even they cannot understand him ever since the day of the accident. Jazz blessed his sister’s soul, who read every book in every existence known to man and tried to help him. But the thing is, those books are for humans, not ghosts, and especially not for someone like him.

He died and came back to life knowing instinctively that something was wrong with him. He stands in between life and death. He knew he died and felt every bolt of electricity that had killed him. He who had to sit still at the dinner table listening to their parents who were supposed to love them, listened in great detail to what they would do to Phantom when they had caught him. 

But Phantom, Phantom instinctively knew how he felt and heard his thoughts. When rough days came to Danny, Phantom quietly appeared behind him and offered his silent support.

Both needed each other to live, without the other one cannot survive on their own.

Phantom, when got too far and separated from his human for far too long got reckless, angry, cold, merciless, and ruthless. Nocturn got the burnt of it despite knowing that Phantom held back.

And Danny?

Got too emotional, and detached, and has that far-away look on his face. He would space out an entire war or destruction surrounding and he still would not notice.

Both are each other’s anchor and rock. And when both become one and become Phantom together then they will be unstoppable.

…

When Danny became the Ghost King it was clear they needed to separate often due to the amount of paperwork that was left pilling when Pariah Dark was in charge.

It became domestic, Danny thought as he paused for a bit when he was trying to write a book report from the Lord of the Rings courtesy of Mr. Lancer. Add the latest guests in his room he thought as he took a look at the sleeping and cuddled up Dan and Ellie who are now freshly de-aged due to some circumstances.

When Danny tried to explain to the two halves the reason why he and Phantom seemed to separate or why he was using this power of his almost every day.

Dan and Ellie seem the only two who didn’t feel weird at his new predicament. Both de-aged ghosts after a sudden bad melting episode and the start of someone’s redemption arc called human Danny is their mom while Phantom is their dad.

Danny at first surprised at the title given by the two but asked playfully to the twins why is he the mom. Phantom who was trying to cuddle the two de-aged ghosts whom he saw as his children at this point and his human counterpart mumbled about whether was it the time when he went and juggled flaming diapers or mastered the art of the 'mom stare' that could freeze a room?

Danny who is still in a bad mood from Dash’s bullying earlier snarked back at Phantom on how he got the dad title. Did he accidentally perfect the art of 'dad dancing' during ghostly gatherings? or accidentally stumble into a dad joke competition?

Sam, often would joke that if she didn’t know better, she would think the two would be lovers which would be found in Paulina’s A03 account and history.

Now that spread like wildfire, it spread faster than Wes could say Danny is Phantom. Now both GIW and his parents are out to get him for two different reasons… One Phantom mind controlled their precious son and now locked up Danny for his “own good” and two he was called a so-called “traitor” to his race as he fell in love with a creature who was not even sentient.

As things slowly went out of hand, Danny had to physically drag Phantom, who had been clawing and gripping to Danny like a lifetime ever since Danny told him to stay at the Infinite Realms for their safety, to a portal with the two children who have their eyes puffed red as they say their farewells to each other.

…

The JL is now confused, they kept seeing the same teen on the loose that appeared in various cities such as Metropolis, Central, Star City, and many more, with various government agents tailing him and trying to capture him.

At first, they thought it was another of Walker’s programs, in which they kidnap various kids who have a powerful meta ability to be part of a group that directly answers to the government.

But when it was revealed that he is another son of Bruce Wayne, it became personal.

Could it be another ploy to gain the Wayne enterprise through a much older and miniature appearance of Bruce Wayne, is it another ploy to gain Bruce Wayne’s wealth and money… They might never know.

…

Batman aka Bruce Wayne publicly announced that he had found another son who was rummaging in the trash of Gotham City, this way those mysterious agents could not publicly go after him as Danny had been publicly broadcasted and the manor is equipped with the latest security known to man.

Danny is very skittish the Batfam concluded, as if every move and twitch they made is something Danny should be wary of. Danny was too distracted to be sad, and have little to no energy to even join Dick and the rest of his siblings to bond over something.

However, that didn’t stop them from forming some sort of familial bond with Danny despite him being too guarded and too wary to get close to the family.

However, it all changed on a random day, as the entire noticed his change of mood. No longer the wariness, anxiety, and nervousness they encountered daily. Each of them began asking around within themselves if they were the one who made a change to Danny, even Alfred didn’t know who or what made him turn a 180.

Of course, when they tried to ask COUGH to interrogate COUGH Danny, he just kept quiet and smiled shyly.

..

Night comes and all the Bats are gathered at the cave to discuss what made Danny to be in a good mood before their patrol.

As they were just about to leave for their shift when Oracle notified them Danny leaving the manor.

Of course, all of them immediately followed him and followed him to a tall abandoned building with Danny sitting giddily on top of the said building. Of course, some of them have some dark thoughts about Danny sitting on top of a warehouse and seeming near the edge. One of the Bat broods is ready to interfere if Danny even makes any signs.

But all thoughts were thrown out as a crack seemed to tear through reality appeared behind Danny, Danny on the other hand looked ecstatic. As the tear/ crack opened up there they saw an underworldly being donned with a crown that is covered in various jewels, an outfit and cape fit for an emperor, and eyes that reminded them of the Lazarus pits.

Just as the moment they tried to calm their hearts down, Danny flung himself towards the unknown being and cried out beloved, the said being caught Danny and twirled him around.

Both are in their little world as they both keep laughing and hugging each other.

The Bat family who are still in the shadows kept their eyes on the two as they wanted to get Danny away from someone that made their instincts go haywire. Batman and Robin are both especially to grab Danny away from that thing.

Both the being and Danny finally settled down and began chatting to each other with little to no distance between the two. The being then summoned a basket that was full of unique and exotic food and then shared it with their new brother.

Then Danny suddenly asked about the kids, What kids!!! EVERYONE thought when suddenly two black blurs went and tackled Danny down, knocking the air out of him.

As the kids stopped hugging Danny, they all held their breaths, they looked like the perfect copy of Danny. Black hair and blue eyes, both kids exclaimed Danny as their mom while they pouted at the being and called him dad about hoarding their mom.

The reunited “family” began chatting about how they were at each other, more on the beings asking how Danny is especially doing.

Danny chatted about how the Waynes are too good for him and how he informed Batman since the Bats have a very close relationship with the Waynes. When one of the kids why mom needs to talk to Batman, Danny just casually reveals a bombshell on the Anti-Ecto laws, GIW, The Infinite realms...etc. So that both mom and dad could get together again, as mom aka Danny is trying everything to stop the war from the living world while their dad tries to stop the war from the Realms.

As they were chatting and catching up to one another, Danny looked at his wristwatch and told the kids that he had to get going or else the Waynes might notice that he snuck out. Both kids immediately cried and gripped Danny while the other being also known as dad didn’t even try to pry the kids off from Danny as he too wanted to stay with the human.

Of course, Danny gently pried off the three hands that were gripping and immediately one of the kids threw a tantrum at how Danny was not safe and might get him killed if he stayed there and Danny should just go with them. Of course, Danny shook his head and told the kid that Mommy was doing everything he could to protect both of them also he might not want to admit it in front of the Wayne but he did grow on them, like a fungus he can’t remove.

And so, the trio left the building after one last look and hug from Danny, Danny immediately lost the small life and cheerfulness that he had when he was meeting them and silently went back to the manor.

…

This made the Bat clan scramble to fix everything, all the while competing for the favorite uncle and aunt title while both Bruce and Alfred engage in their silent war for the grandpa title, when they showed their findings to the League both Booster Gold and the Flask stood up white as paper.

They claimed at the picture of Danny, that he may be the one who destroyed the future, but looked a little confused as some traits that they remembered were not on Danny which made them speculate that maybe he grew into. But when the two-time travelers explained in great detail his appearance, it matched the appearance of their nephew.

Is this the reason why Dan turned evil, humans have killed his family leaving him both angry and devastated that he let the world know of his pain?

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PPS: As you can see, I posted a bit early, I got a bunch of people to do and things to see. So uhh, bye-bye!

PPPS: This one got too long for my liking...

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 3. the accident

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You and Joel spend some time getting to know each other, but during dinner with Tommy and Maria, the truth comes out about your accident.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, mild description of head wound/stitches, flirting, clickers, violence and some descriptions of injuries/blood

WC: 10.4K

Series Masterlist

Two Weeks Later

"This place is a lot bigger than I thought. I feel like I see someone new every day."

"Well, your brain did a factory reset, so you kind of are seeing new people every day," Ellie joked at breakfast one morning. Joel had been scheduled on early morning patrol shifts lately, so it was just the two of you before Ellie's classes started. You felt bad, but you grew to enjoy these mornings with just her. She was easy to get along with and she didn't pester you constantly about your memory loss. It was like she just accepted it for what it was and moved on. Joel, on the other hand, was a different story.

"What are you doing today?" she asked, pushing away her bowl of oatmeal.

"I have to go get these stitches removed," you said, your fingers coming up to brush across your injured scalp. "Couldn't come any sooner. They are so itchy."

She hummed and crossed her arms. "Surprised Joel didn't wanna come with you. He's been hovering over you non-stop."

"Yeah, tell me about it," you muttered. When you caught the playful glean in her eye, you backtracked. "Not that I don't appreciate everything he's done for me, it's just..." you trailed off, trying to find the right words.

"It's just a lot?" she offered, and you nodded, relieved that she understood.

"I didn't exactly tell him, either," you said, dropping your gaze to pick at your cuticle in shame. "Every time I go to the clinic, he scares the shit out of that poor doctor."

She laughed softly and stretched her arms out behind her head. "Joel does that to people. He comes off like a pitbull but in reality? He's just a golden retriever."

A slow smile stretched across your face as you absorbed her words, then burst out laughing.

"That is-" you began, cutting yourself off with another laugh, "the most accurate description I could ever possibly think of."

"I've known him for a long time, what can I say?" she said with a grin while throwing her hands up in the air.

Your laughter died down as you stared at the table, lost in thought. Glancing up at Ellie, you decided to see what else she might shed some light on.

"Do you know of a Ben and Lisa?"

She froze and looked at you quizzically for a moment before dropping her hands back down onto the table.

"Yeah, do you remember them?"

"No, no," you said quickly, waving her off. "I kept a journal. Y'know, from before. And I was reading it the other day and I mentioned them. Are they around?"

Ellie glanced around the somewhat crowded room before meeting your eyes again. "No, not today. They don't really come out much," she said, examining you carefully. "They have a small house on the outskirts of town. They are... homebodies, I guess? I think they've been in here, like, twice, since you guys arrived."

"So, they came here with me?" you confirmed, and she nodded.

"Yeah, the three of you arrived together," she said. Her eyes glanced up and saw a few classmates heading out the front door. "I better go, school's starting soon," she said, pushing her chair back and grabbing her backpack.

"Yeah, okay," you said, sitting back in your chair. "Thanks, Ellie," you called after her, and she shot you a quick wave before running to catch up with her friends.

You wished you had more time to ask her about Ben and Lisa. Were they together? Were they siblings? Friends? How did you meet them? What did they know about your past?

The questions were piling up as you let your mind wander. You didn't even realize Maria, Tommy's wife, had approached your table until she said your name for the second time.

"Sorry," you told her, shaking your head.

She smiled and pulled out a chair, joining you at your now empty table. "Don't worry about it. I wanted to check on you. How have you been feeling?"

"Better," you said honestly. "I haven't needed the Tylenol really, so I'm going to bring the rest back to Nick this morning."

"That's fantastic," she said, leaning forward. She regarded you quietly for a moment before speaking again. "Any luck on your memories?"

You sighed and shook your head. It was inevitable - everyone eventually asked you the same question, either morbid curiosity or genuine concern encouraging them. And you tried not to let it bother you, you really did. But you couldn't help but feel like a failure every time when the answer was no.

And then Maria asked the next question everybody always asked.

"How's Joel handling everything?"

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Of course this was hard for him. It was hard for you, too, just in a different way.

"Alright, I guess."

"Are you two getting along? I know Tommy mentioned you were nervous-"

"Yeah," you said, cutting her off. "It was a little weird at first but it's not so bad now." You glanced around the dining hall, which was mostly empty. "Can you tell me a little bit about him? About us? I would ask Joel, but any time he tells me about some memory, I can see it hurts him. And I just can't stand to see that look in his eye again."

Maria gave you a sympathetic look and squeezed your hand. "I get it. It must be hard, I'm so sorry," she said, and you could feel the tears beginning to prick the corners of your eyes.

"I just feel like I'm always letting him down," you said, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"You're not. Hey, look at me," she said, forcing you to drag your eyes up to meet hers. "You're not letting him down. He loves you. You have no idea how much. That man has been head over heels since the moment you met. He'd do anything for you-"

"I know, and that's what makes this so much worse!" you exclaimed. "I'm sitting around that house all day - our house - waiting for my brain to fucking work and give him the person he's waiting for and I just can't! I can't-" you slammed your palms flat on the table. "I can't fucking-" you buried your face in your hands as you tried to conceal your tears. Maria rubbed soothing circles on your back, giving you time to collect yourself.

"Sounds to me like you're going a little stir-crazy."

You dragged a shaky breath in and nodded, letting your hands fall to your lap.

"What if we got you assigned some work around town? Something light, nothing too strenuous. Would that help?" she asked softly, and your pulse began to return to normal.

"Yeah, I think that would be nice," you said, flashing her a small smile.

"Your choice, then," she said, pulling her hand back, "what are you good at or interested in? I figure stables are probably not a good idea. Tommy said you were having trouble riding. Is there anything you'd like to do?"

You pursed your lips and thought for a moment.

"I'm not sure... can I get back to you?" you asked, realizing once again that you knew very little about yourself.

"Of course," Maria said before standing up from her chair. "You know where to find me whenever you think of something. Or if you just want to talk... I'm here, okay?"

You gave her a watery smile before whispering your thanks, then watched her make her way towards the doors. You sighed and looked around, realizing you were the only one left after the breakfast rush, so you pushed yourself to your feet and followed Maria's footsteps. You had a few more hours before Joel was supposed to come back from patrol, so you decided to walk over to the infirmary and get your stitches removed.

The streets of Jackson were mercifully quiet. Most people were working and the kids were in school, so you didn't run into too many folks on your way towards the other end of town. You wrapped your arms around yourself a little tighter. The chill in the air still lingered from overnight, making you shiver. As you walked, you looked around at the buildings like you normally did, trying your hardest to shake loose a memory, or at this point, even a flicker of a moment, but nothing came.

You trudged up the steps to the infirmary and stepped inside, grateful to be back indoors where it was warm. A little bell rang above your head, announcing your presence, and a moment later you heard Nick's footsteps coming down the hallway. When he lifted his head and saw you, his eyes immediately scanned the room, searching for Joel.

"All alone today?" he asked, then motioned for you to follow him.

"Yeah, Joel's busy," you said, and you swore you could see his shoulders relax.

"I know the feeling," he said, standing next to an empty exam room and holding his arm out to his side, inviting you to enter first, so you did. "I've been trying to get around to doing inventory for weeks, but I'm swamped. Can't seem to find a quiet day," he continued as he opened and closed some cabinets. He pulled on a pair of gloves and opened a drawer for some scissors before placing it on a clean washcloth next to the bed and putting his glasses on.

"Oh, speaking of inventory," you said, leaning to the side so you could fish the pills out of your jeans pocket. You held them out to him with a smile. "Didn't need them all."

"Excellent. Thank you," he said, plucking the baggie from your fingers and setting them down on the counter next to the scissors. "Glad they helped. And again, I'm sorry I couldn't offer anything stronger-"

"Don't be sorry, I understand," you said, then tucked your chin into your chest so he could get a good look at the back of your head. He began to carefully snip away at the irritating thread, taking his time to pull each and every piece out without tugging too much on your skin. You noticed aside from the two of you, the office sounded quiet.

"All alone today, too?" you asked.

"Yes, unfortunately," he said with a sigh. "My aide, Monica, got poached from me. They needed someone on patrol since-" he cut himself off and cleared his throat, and you frowned before you realized what he was about to say.

"Since they had to replace me," you finished for him.

"Yes."

Your lips pressed into a thin line as Nick continued to work away at your stitches. Another casualty in the hurricane that your accident seemed to cause.

"Hey, what if I helped you?" you blurted out, and his hands paused.

"You want to be my aide?"

"Sure. Well, do I need any medical knowledge? I don't know much, but I can help you with inventory or cleaning instruments or... whatever else you might need."

You could sense his hesitation without even having to see his face and you knew in an instant he was thinking about Joel.

"Maria approached me this morning about a job. She said it would be good for me and I agreed. But if I'm not qualified, I understand-"

"No, no, it's not that," he said, and you rolled your eyes. Of course not.

"Joel isn't the boss of me," you said after a moment. He stepped backwards and you lifted your head up to look at him.

"He's an intimidating man," Nick said by way of explanation. He snapped his gloves off and tossing them in the trash. "Why don't you run it by him first? As a favor to me?" he added with a half smile. You sighed and nodded before sliding off the bed.

"Sure, I'll talk to him when he gets back," you agreed, following Nick towards the front door. You thanked him before heading back down the street, your fingers gingerly tracing your closed wound before you shoved your hands into your pockets.

How the hell could one man manage to scare half the town the way Joel Miller did? You thought you were beginning to see a glimmer of the man underneath the hardened exterior, but what on earth drew you to him in the first place? What did your past self see in him that made you so enamored? And why couldn't you see it now? You were afraid the answer didn't so much lie with Joel, but with you.

You desperately needed to discover more of the person you were before your accident. Maybe then you would get some more insight.

When you got back to Joel's house, you decided to take what little quiet time you had left and read some more of your journal. As the sun rose in the sky, the day began to heat up a bit, taking away that frigid chill in the air, so you cracked a window in his living room and curled up on a worn out, but very comfortable, arm chair.

You flipped through the pages, your eyes landing on the last entry you read: Joel lied to me.

You never asked him about it. Either you were too afraid of the answer or you were too afraid he wouldn't tell the truth. At first, you tried to convince yourself that it was nothing. That maybe you had just gotten into a fight on that particular day and you were mad. But seeing how sporadically you had updated the journal, you got the feeling you wouldn't have written it unless it was important.

And why wouldn't you have elaborated? What could it have been? Something that was so serious, you didn't want to risk putting it down in writing?

You hadn't realized how long you were staring at those four words until you heard Joel's heavy footsteps climbing up the stairs of the porch. You snapped the book shut and looked up just as he opened the door. His dark eyes found you immediately and, as usual, you saw what you always saw - relief in seeing you again, the joy one had when they saw their other half, the attraction a man has for the one he loves.

Damn him and his expressive eyes.

"Hey," you said with a small smile, "how was patrol?"

"Not too bad," he replied, kicking off his boots. "Quiet. No infected. Me 'n Alex made short work of our route," he said, strolling over to collapse into the couch next to your chair. He rubbed his eyes with a deep sigh, his head resting on the back of the couch.

"Tired?"

"Yeah," he said, dropping his hand to his lap and rolling his head in your direction. "Glad I got tomorrow off. Maybe we can do somethin' together."

"Yeah, okay," you agreed. Maybe it would be a good opportunity to learn more about him without directly asking. His eyes drifted down to the journal in your lap and he jutted his chin towards it.

"Read anythin' interesting?"

Looking down at it for a brief moment, you thought about asking him what he lied about, but you ultimately decided against it.

"Yeah, actually," you said, flipping a different page open. "I wrote about a Ben and Lisa. Ellie told me we arrived together and they keep to themselves," you continued, looking up at him. His expression was unreadable. "Maybe I should pay them a visit one of these days. Maybe they can tell me a little about myself before-"

"Yeah, maybe," he said suddenly, then stood up to head towards the kitchen. You frowned, your eyes following him as he filled a glass of water. When he turned back to you, you were still looking at him, waiting for him to say something else.

"Why don't you give it a little time before you go seein' them," he suggested after downing his water in one gulp.

"It's been two weeks," you said quietly, "how much more time should I give it?" He shrugged and strolled back into the living room, leaning against the doorframe.

"What'dya wanna know?" he asked, avoiding your question. "I know you better than anyone. I can answer your questions."

"I didn't know you the whole ten years, though," you reminded him, unfolding your legs from the chair. "It sounds like they knew me longer. I just thought they could tell me how I survived-"

"For what?" he snapped, and his tone took a sudden turn. When you met his gaze again, the warmth was gone, and in its place was a face of stone. "What does that matter?" he asked, his voice rising a little. "You're here, you did what you had to do. We all did. What's the point in rehashin' it?"

"What's the point?" you repeated, bewildered. "The point is so I can learn about myself. So I can figure out the person I became, the person you fell in love with!"

Something flickered across his face for a brief moment before his eyes softened and his shoulders relaxed.

"You're right, I'm sorry," he said, the edge to his voice now gone. "I'll take you to see 'em one of these days. We'll go together. I haven't seen 'em in a while myself. It'd be good to catch up," he added.

"Okay," you said slowly, "thank you." He took a deep breath and angled his head towards the stairs.

"I'm gonna take a quick shower," he mumbled, and you nodded, your eyes following him up the steps until he disappeared around the corner.

Joel Miller was an incredibly difficult man to figure out. Just when you thought you knew who he was, he did something like that and it made you second guess yourself. You had determined that aggressive side came out when he was protecting the ones he loved. So who was he protecting this time?

"What'dya wanna do today?" Joel asked you around a mouthful of eggs from across your kitchen table.

"Um, I don't know," you said, pushing your food around on your plate uncomfortably. You thought spending time alone with him was a good idea, but when you woke up that morning, you felt nervous. "Did you have anything in mind?"

He sat back in his chair and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "If you were feelin' up for it, thought I could take you outside the walls a bit. Maybe teach you how to ride again."

You perked up at his suggestion. For some reason, you didn't consider leaving Jackson as an option.

"Yeah, that sounds great," you said with a grin, and his chest warmed at the sight. He missed seeing you smile. Then he remembered something that might make you smile again. He stood up quickly, his chair sliding back across the hardwood floor, and walked over to his backpack, still hanging by the door from yesterday.

"What are you doing?" you called after him, but he didn't reply until he reentered the room with his hands behind his back.

"Forgot I gotcha somethin' when I was out yesterday," he said, trying to bite back his smile. It didn't even occur to him until the last second that you might not like what he was about to give you, that maybe your tastes were different ten years ago, but it was too late now. Nervously, he held out two worn paperback books. You stood up with a curious look on your face and took them in your hands, your eyes running over the covers quickly before turning them over and reading the backs. He shifted his weight as he anxiously waited for your reaction, and when he was rewarded with another huge smile, he couldn't hold his own back.

"These sound great," you told him, glancing at the books again. "I love mysteries, this is..." you met his eyes briefly before shyly looking back down. "This is so thoughtful of you, Joel. Thank you."

He beamed with pride, thrilled that he was able to do something nice for you. "You're welcome, ba- ahem," he coughed, stopping himself from finishing his sentence. You looked back up at him, heat creeping up both of your necks. He cleared his throat and turned around, picking up your plates. "You're welcome," he said again, "thought you might be gettin' bored 'round here."

He rinsed the plates in the sink before heading towards the front door. You put your two books on the counter and trailed after him, the both of you sliding on your boots and jackets. Joel grabbed his backpack before opening the door for you and he followed you down the porch steps.

"Yeah, I'm definitely getting a little bored," you said, eyeing him up as you walked side by side towards the stables. "But speaking of that, I was talking to Maria yesterday and she suggested I get a job." His head swiveled over to you, lips parted in surprise, but before he could speak, you continued. "She said I can pick whatever I want, nothing too strenuous."

He nodded and looked straight ahead again, your words rolling around in his head. "Yeah, suppose that makes sense."

"Good," you said, pleased he was open to the idea. "So when I was at the infirmary yesterday, Nick mentioned-"

"Why were you at the infirmary? Were you in pain? Did you get hurt?"

"Joel, I was fine," you said with a huff. You pointed to the back of your head. "I had my stitches removed."

He stopped in his tracks, which made you skid to a halt. His arms reached out to lift up your hair but at the last second, he held back.

"Can I?" he asked over your shoulder, and you nodded. He gingerly lifted up your hair to take a look at your injury, which felt much better now that the stitches were gone.

"Made showering so much easier," you told him. He hummed and dropped your hair.

"Looks good," he said, and continued walking. "You shoulda waited, I woulda went with you," he added.

"It took ten minutes," you said, waving him off as the stables came into view. "But while I was there, Nick mentioned his aide got reassigned to patrol to fill my old position, so I offered to take her place."

"You wanna work at the infirmary?" he asked, and you shrugged.

"I don't know much, but he said I didn't need to. He just needs help around the office. Cleaning up, taking inventory, maybe help him with some minor procedures. Hand him tools and all that," you said, and Joel nodded slowly.

"Alright," he said, "if that's what you wanna do, sure."

And although you weren't asking for his permission, it felt like you got it, anyway.

As you got closer to the stables, the high pitched whinny of a horse in a nearby paddock caught both your attention. The horse looked smaller - younger - and was attached to a long rope, and in the center of the field holding the other end was a man around Joel's age. Even from a distance, you could see the clench in his jaw and the way his muscles strained to rein in the animal, but he was losing the fight. The horse was too young and too strong and kept pulling away, getting as far away from the man as possible before the lead went taught and the horse was forced to face the man again. Each time it happened, the horse let out a shrill whinny and stomped its hooves in the dirt, expressing its displeasure.

"That's Caleb," Joel said as you both paused to watch. "Must be breakin' in a yearling."

"Breaking in?" you asked, your eyes still glued to the horse, whose head was twisting around angrily, trying to break free.

"It means he's tryin' to tame her so we can ride her," he explained, and you nodded. You both leaned up against the fence and watched the beautiful animal rear up and then dig its hooves deeper into the dirt, dust kicking up into a cloud around them. Caleb was struggling. Sweat was dripping down his face as he tugged on the lead and shouted commands at the horse, but she was having none of it.

The horse's whinnies were becoming louder and more panicked. The whites of her eyes showed when Caleb attempted to get closer, his skin tight over his knuckles from holding onto the rope. Once Caleb got close enough, the horse swung its massive head around in the air then reared back again with all its might, pulling Caleb off his feet unexpectedly with a shout.

"Shit," Joel muttered. He gripped the top rail of the fence and hauled himself over before you could even process what was happening. You watched, eyes wide, as Joel ran into the middle of the field, his arms raised up high over his head to keep the horse from stomping on Caleb.

"Hey! Hey!" you heard Joel's booming voice shout at the animal, drawing her attention off Caleb. The horse charged at Joel, but swerved away at the last second. Joel turned around and gave Caleb a hand, dragging him to his feet before the horse made its way back to where they stood.

"Hey," Joel said, softer this time, but his arms still stretched out in front of him. The horse skidded to a stop a few feet away, snorting and pawing at the dirt, its long tail flicking back and forth. Caleb stood and dusted himself off before taking a few steps backwards to catch his breath, but Joel remained in the same spot. He stared down the animal, the two of them silently sizing the other up. Joel's voice rang out again, just as soft as before. "Hey, shh, girl," he said, relaxing his stance a bit.

You stood cemented to the ground, entranced, as you watched the stand off between man and beast. Joel didn't look scared. He barely even flinched when the horse let out another high pitched squeal. He stood tall and firm, refusing to back down, and patiently waited for the horse to come to him.

He left his arm outstretched as an olive branch, his eyes never leaving the horse. He murmured low, soothing noises until it took a tentative step forward. Joel nodded encouragingly and continued to speak softly, earning him another step.

You felt a stirring low in your stomach as you continued to watch, with your jaw slack and your breaths shallow. Joel finally reached out and grabbed the lead, then ran the flat of his hand slowly up and down the horse's nose, giving it a little scratch between the eyes, and you clenched your thighs together.

After a few minutes of Joel calmingly murmuring to the horse, he handed the rope back to Caleb, who expressed his deepest gratitude before carefully leading the filly back towards the stables. Joel turned back towards you, dusting his hands off as he walked. Your cheeks felt warm by the time he made it to the other side of the fence and climbed over.

"That was..." you trailed off, not sure what to say. He smirked at you as he leaned down to pick his backpack up. "That was really impressive," you finally squeaked out. Unbeknownst to you, he could see right through you. He'd known you for too long and he especially knew what you looked like when you were aroused. He eyed you up and down before nodding towards the stables.

"It's 'bout respect and patience. You get what you give," he explained as he wiped away some sweat that formed on the back of his neck. Your mouth went dry at the sight.

"H-have you done that before?"

"What, break in wild animals?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at you, and you nodded. If he didn't already clock the way you were reacting, he wouldn't have said what he said next. "No. Only you."

You choked on your laughter and he grinned.

"I hardly think I can compare to a wild horse," you said, your cheeks on fire.

"You're right. Tamin' you was harder."

"I thought I was the one who confronted you about sneaking around? Which is it?" you teased as you followed him into the barn, the scent of hay and leather and the sound of horses gently snorting in their stalls invading your senses.

"Oh, you did. You just didn't like sneakin' 'round. Took a lot longer to make you fall in love and move in with me," he said. He walked up to a list pinned to a clipboard and scribbled his name inside an empty slot.

"Mm, and you really think you can do it again?" you asked, trying to sound doubtful but your smile gave you away. He glanced down at you, leaning against the wall for a moment, his eyes lingering on your lips and cheeks before chuckling.

"Oh, absolutely," he said lowly, and you felt your heart flutter in your chest.

"Alright, Casanova. Let's get a move on," you said, rolling your eyes and turning away, but not before he caught the excited glint in your eye.

Thank god for Joel's backpack.

That was the only thing separating you two as you clung to him from behind as he steered your borrowed horse through the woods. It was peaceful. Serene, even. It was hard to believe so many horrible things happened, and were still happening, in this world when you were surrounded by such beauty. And you might have been able to appreciate it more if you weren't so utterly distracted by your body's reaction to Joel. You couldn't imagine what you would be thinking and feeling if there wasn't a buffer between you. Had you been able to feel each and every strong muscle in his back and shoulders, or the heat rolling off him, or fully commit to memory his very unique and intoxicating scent.

No, luckily you had some distance, and by the time he reached the field he was looking for, you felt like you had regained your senses. You brushed off your earlier reaction to your hormones and nothing more by the time you slid down from the horse and joined Joel on the ground.

"It's so quiet out here," you remarked, looking around and shrugging off your jacket. By now, the sun had risen high enough in the sky to warm everything up around you, the frosty morning air long since melted away. Joel tied the reins of your horse around a tree trunk and took off his own jacket, slinging it over the saddle.

"We used to come out here a lot," was all he said, avoiding your eyes. You looked around again, trying to find something familiar. He could tell what you were doing and he shook his head.

"Don't try to force it, it ain't gonna do any good," he said, and you looked over at him, surprised.

"Sorry. I'm really trying," you said softly, looking down at the dirt. He looked at you sadly, just for a moment when your attention was on your shoes, then forced a smile across his face.

"C'mon, I wanna show you somethin'."

You followed him through the thinning trees towards the open field; the grass waist high as you hiked through it together, cicadas singing all around you as you walked. The sun was growing more powerful, but you weren't uncomfortable.

"This is my favorite time of year," you told him, and he glanced over at you. "It's not too hot, not too cold."

He smiled and looked straight ahead once again. "I know. You like warm days and cold nights."

"That's right," you said, pressing your lips together and wondering if there would ever be anything you could tell him that he didn't already seem to know. "You have a good memory."

"When it comes to you, yeah."

Joel held out an arm to stop you, your face angled towards the ground as you walked so you wouldn't trip. You looked up when you ran into his arm, first at him, and then at the scenery before you.

It was breathtaking. Somehow, without even realizing it, you were on top of a mountain. Or, close to it, anyway. Near the edge, you looked around and saw other hills and valleys surrounding you, green and lush and full of life. A flock of blackbirds swooped by straight ahead, and way down below, between all the jagged rocks, was a little lazy river.

"This is beautiful," you breathed, your eyes glistening. Joel studied your face while you were distracted, his eyes never once looking at the nature surrounding you.

"Yeah, I know," he whispered. You dragged your eyes away from the view and gave him a dazzling smile, one that made his chest ache, before sitting down at the edge of the grass with a sigh.

"Okay. What do you miss most about your life before?" you asked him out of the blue. His stomach lurched, his mind immediately filled with thoughts of a little girl with curly hair and dark brown eyes that once made him finally understand the true meaning of unconditional love.

"Barbeques," he choked out, hoping you didn't pick up on his mood shift.

"Mm, that's a good one," you said dreamily, still staring out over the edge of the cliff. "What was your favorite part?"

He felt himself relax a bit as you forced his mind to shift gears. "The music. The food. Just... lazy weekends, hangin' out with friends or family. Spendin' time with people I cared 'bout."

"What's your favorite barbeque food?" you asked, pulling your knees up to your chest and turning your head towards him.

He thought about it for a moment, his daughter's memory drifting back into the recesses of his mind. "Ribs. Or maybe burgers. Tough call," he said with a chuckle. You slapped the side of your leg and turned your whole body towards him excitedly.

"Oh, my god. Speaking of ribs. My brother - Matty - one time he was in an 'all you can eat' ribs competition," you said, a grin already pulling at the corners of your mouth. "He was like, 22 at the time and he could really pack food away. Like, really eat. It scared the shit outta my mom, she had no idea how he did it and still stayed so trim," you said, and Joel chuckled. "Anyway, he entered this contest and all of the other contestants were these, like, huge guys. I'm talking pushing 300 pounds huge, right?" you said, the excitement evident in your voice now as your eyes shone bright, making Joel smile even more. "So, anyway, one by one these guys are dropping like flies and my brother just kept mowing down all these ribs like it was nothing. It was down to him and one other guy and the other guy looked like he was about to tap out. The prize was like, a thousand bucks, and we were all getting so damn excited. He was gonna win!" you said, your voice getting louder the more excited you became. Seeing you that happy for the first time in weeks made Joel's heart feel like it was going to burst, so he played along and urged you on. "Then, Matty freezes. And I'm staring at him. And he's just staring down at his hands, and we're all like 'what the hell is he doing?' and suddenly - woosh!" you said with a giggle, using your arms for emphasis. "He pukes everywhere! It was so fucking much, Joel! And it was so disgusting, oh my god. People were running from their seats and dry heaving, and me and my parents are fucking dying with laughter," you said, your giggles growing louder the more you remembered. You wiped a stray tear from the corner of your eye as you continued. "Anyway, of course he got disqualified and he never could be in the same room as a rack of ribs ever again," you finished, flashing him a grin. But when you saw his expression, although he was smiling and giving you some obligatory laughs, you could tell it wasn't the first time he had heard that story.

"You knew that already, didn't you?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. He smirked and looked down at his hands.

"Yeah," he admitted, and you groaned. "But it's still a real funny story. I love the way you tell it."

"I wonder if there's anything I didn't tell you," you said with a sigh. He inched a little closer when he heard the despair in your voice.

"It doesn't matter. I love hearin' everythin' 'bout you," he said, and you gave him a little smile. "You could tell me a hundred times and I wouldn't care."

He kept saying that word. Love. Over and over, like it was nothing. You looked away, his eye contact too intense all of the sudden, and stared out at the beauty before you. But you could still feel the heat of his gaze on your skin. It sent a shiver down your spine. Your mind raced, trying to think of something else to say when he softly whispered your name. You tilted your head in his direction and the look in his eye caused you to temporarily forget how to breathe. He was staring at you like you were the only other person in the world. Like you were a siren, calling to him on the sea, or Aphrodite, knocking him to his knees in prayer.

No, no, no, you thought as he leaned in a fraction, his eyes flicking down to your lips. Too soon. Not ready.

A blood curdling screech echoed from somewhere behind you. Somewhere far too close for comfort. You froze, eyes wide and scared, but Joel whipped around and reached into his backpack, pulling out his revolver and knife.

Stay here, he mouthed, pressing a finger to his lips, and you couldn't remember if you acknowledged him or not before he crouched and disappeared into the long grass, leaving you all alone on the edge of a very dangerous cliff with some terrifying monster nearby. Slowly, trying very hard not to make a sound, you turned your head, searching for the source of the noise. As you scanned the field, the tall grass hiding Joel somewhere in its depths, you spotted it. It, being the only proper word.

It was hideous. Fucking disgusting. Half its face was overgrown with fungus plates, its mouth wide and wet and dribbling with blood, teeth yellowed and bared. It hunched over as it got closer and closer to you, snapping its jaw like a lion, trying to locate its next meal. You swallowed roughly as it got closer, its torn clothes and bent fingers coming into view. And the smell. The stench of death and rot filled the air, completely ruining the beautiful backdrop you were admiring mere minutes ago. Your heart slammed wildly in your chest, your breathing unsteady and your hands shook violently. You had nothing to defend yourself. You looked to your side, wondering if you could push it over the cliff if necessary. Where was Joel?!

Just as it was about to clear the grass and step into the clearing, Joel leapt up behind the creature and stabbed it in the back of the head with a loud grunt. It collapsed in an instant, blood spilling from its skull as Joel stood over the corpse, shoulders and chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath.

"Oh my god," you whispered, your trembling hands coming up to cover your mouth as you stared at the lifeless body. You hadn't seen an infected alive yet. And they were far more terrifying than you ever imagined. Tears welled up in your eyes that you quickly tried to flick away, but Joel already noticed.

"You okay?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed with worry as he cleaned his knife off in the grass.

"Yeah," you replied shakily, still staring at the dead infected a few feet away. You slowly forced yourself to your feet and walked around it, only stopping when you were safely in the grass. With a grunt, Joel kicked the body closer and closer to the edge until it tumbled over. You winced as you heard its body faintly thudding and cracking against the rocks and branches below. He glanced over at you, your face screwed up with a mix of distaste and fear, and he sighed.

"Wanna just head back?"

"Yeah," you said, looking at the view once more before following him through the tall grass. "It was nice while it lasted, though."

The two of you trudged through the grass quietly, back towards the woods. He could tell you were shaken up and he inwardly cursed the clicker for ruining what could have ended up being a really nice day with you. A day where he thought he was making some progress. He made you smile and laugh and he definitely recognized that heated look in your eye back at the stables, but all of those memories suddenly seemed so distant. It wasn't until the horse came into view that he even remembered why he brought you out in the first place.

"You still wanna learn to ride?"

You looked up at him, your perfect lips parted ever so slightly. It made him want to grab your chin and press his mouth against yours so he could remember what you felt like again.

"Oh, sure," you said, glancing wearily over at the horse as you approached.

"Why don't you take the reins and I'll sit behind you," he offered as he untied the horse from the tree. "That way I can take over if you're feelin' too nervous."

"Okay..." you agreed slowly, realizing that meant he would be pressed up against you for the entire ride home. And this time, there wouldn't be a buffer.

He laced his fingers together and bent forward, offering you a boost. You got a good grip on the saddle and delicately placed your foot in his hands before he launched you upwards. You swung your leg over and shifted in the saddle a bit, looking down at the back of the horse's head. Its long ears flickered back and forth, trying to shoo away the flies.

You gasped when the saddle shifted slightly and Joel climbed up behind you. Your body stiffened and you stared straight ahead as he got himself comfortable. You tried to block it out, but when his arms wrapped around you from behind and took the reins from your grasp, you realized it would be impossible.

"This is how you wanna hold 'em, see?" he murmured softly in your ear, and you immediately felt goosebumps break out up and down your arms. He hadn't been this close before. Not even when he was examining your head wound. His exhale tickled the side of your neck and you realized his lips were dangerously close to your exposed skin. When it occurred to you that he had asked you a question, you blinked and snapped out of it.

"Yeah," you said, and you hoped he would think your hands were shaking because you were nervous to ride and nothing more.

"Now we're ridin' western, so when you steer, you wanna pull the reins across, like this," he said, demonstrating with his hands over yours, and just like that, the horse turned to the left. "And you just do the opposite if you wanna go the other way."

"Okay, makes sense," you replied, surprised you were actually following along.

"You want the horse to move, you gotta squeeze your legs. Gotta do it hard, though. It's a big animal, they can't feel you if you don't squeeze hard."

"Uh huh," you said, so you gave it a try. You squeezed your legs as hard as you could and the horse slowly lumbered forwards, and you squealed with excitement. "I did it!"

Joel chuckled behind you. You could feel the deep rumble through your back and the little puffs of air from his nose on your neck. It made you shudder, and you tried to pass it off like you were cold. The horse began to slowly walk back the way you came, through the trees and past a little stream, and the longer you walked, the more confident you became.

"This isn't so bad," you admitted, and you weren't sure if you were talking about Joel's embrace or riding the horse. You were growing used to his arms around you now, even though you didn't really need his hands to guide yours, you didn't say anything. It was... nice.

"How do I make it go faster?" you asked.

"Well, you can give her a little kick, or you can click your tongue. You remember how to click your tongue?"

You laughed a little and without thinking, you gave it a try. Clicking your tongue experimentally against your teeth sent the horse rushing forward. Just into a trot, but it still took you off guard. You gasped and leaned back into Joel's chest, looking to steady yourself so you wouldn't fall. You could feel him laughing behind you as he tightened his arms around your waist and gave the reins a gentle tug, slowing the horse back down to a walk.

"Not funny!" you exclaimed, but your smile gave you away.

He missed this. He really missed this. He missed holding you and laughing with you and spending time with you. What he wouldn't give to kiss you again. He ached for the way you tasted, the way you moaned underneath him, the feeling of your smooth skin under his rough palms. Every day that passed he felt like he was forgetting little by little, and the urge to remind himself, the urge to pull you into his arms and kiss you deeply and take you to bed with him was becoming more intense by the day.

But he had to be patient. He could be patient. You'd come around, one day. He was sure of it.

By the time you made it back to Jackson, you were feeling much more at ease. Maybe this is what you needed. Some time away with Joel, just the two of you, so you could learn more about him. You had to admit, you were beginning to see a very soft and sweet side to him that you only caught glimpses of in the past.

Before today, you hadn't been able to understand the attraction. He was good looking, you already knew that, but you also knew that couldn't have just been it. That wasn't enough to share a love for one another that he classified as rare and meant to be. Now, it was starting to become clearer. There was something inherently sexy about the way he handled himself. The confidence he had, which, at first, came off as cocky, you now viewed in a different light. After the way he handled the horse in the pasture and the clicker in the field, you were beginning to understand.

Joel Miller was a protector. He cared deeply and passionately for the ones he loved, and he stopped at nothing to defend them. Sometimes that love was misplaced as anger, and that's where he kept losing you.

He had asked if you felt up to joining Tommy and Maria at the dining hall for dinner, and even though you were a little tired from your outing, you agreed.

As you walked down the street together, he had to fight the impulse to hold your hand. He still noticed the way people looked at you, their curiosity over your now famous injury getting the best of them, but once they caught his eye they quickly averted their gaze. It angered him, he couldn't help it. He didn't want you to feel uncomfortable. You didn't deserve to be gawked at.

You followed Joel through the crowded hall once again, and just like before, the crowd naturally parted for him. He seemed to be making his way towards the back, towards the same table as before, only this time Tommy and Maria were already seated and waiting.

Maria greeted you with a hug and you gave Tommy a quick smile across the table before sitting down between her and Joel.

"Beautiful day out today," Maria said off to the side while Joel and Tommy talked amongst themselves.

"Yeah, it really was. I'm gonna miss it when the snow comes," you said, giving her a face. "Who's watching your daughter?" you asked suddenly, glancing around as if you could have possibly missed a small child running around.

"Oh, Dina offered to babysit, so we jumped at the chance to get out of the house," she said with a laugh. "Did you do anything exciting today?"

"Yeah, actually," you said, glancing at Joel, who was still talking quietly to his brother. "Joel taught me how to ride a horse. Well... re-taught me, I guess," you said with a small laugh.

"Thats fantastic. I'm glad you were feeling well enough to go out," Maria said with a warm smile.

"Oh, that reminds me-" you said, stopping yourself when Seth came over to take your orders. You just asked for what Maria was getting and turned your attention back to her. "I thought of a job."

Her eyes widened in surprise and she clapped her hands together. "Let's hear it!"

"I thought I could help out at the infirmary," you said, and she nodded along thoughtfully. "Nick was telling me his aide had to join patrol and he says he just needs someone to help do things around the office."

"That sounds like a great idea," she said, but you could hear the hesitation in her voice. When she glanced over at Joel, you connected the dots and sighed.

"He's fine with it," you grumbled, your gaze dropping to your hands.

"Fine with what?" Joel's voice asked from beside you.

"She wants to help out at the infirmary," Maria said, and Tommy grinned.

"Great idea, sugar," he said, "Nick could use the help. He's smart, but he's disorganized as all hell."

"I think it'll be good for you," Joel said, his knee knocking against yours under the table. "Help you get to know everyone a little better. Besides, if anythin' were to happen, you're in the right place," he added, leaning back in his chair so Seth could put his plate down in front of him.

"What do you mean?" you asked, picking up your fork and then scrunching your nose when you saw cherry tomatoes on your plate. Without even looking up, Joel speared the tomatoes with his fork and put them on his plate, then the three of you watched as he gathered his squash and gave it to you.

"I mean, if your head ever got to hurtin' again, then you'd be in the right place," he explained, looking up and licking the pad of his thumb. He frowned a bit when he noticed the table staring at him, and Tommy and Maria quickly ducked their heads to focus on their food, hiding their smiles.

"What?"

You dropped your gaze shyly to your plate and poked at the squash with your fork. "You know I hate tomatoes."

Heat crept up his neck a bit but he grinned. "The acid upsets your stomach," he said, and you chuckled to yourself, about to say something else when Jesse happened to walk by your table with some friends.

"Hey, Jesse!" Tommy called out, making him stop. He gave you all a quick wave before looking at Tommy expectantly. "Think you can join in on the 10am patrol tomorrow? Joel was just tellin' me he saw a clicker in that zone. Don't want any surprises like last time."

"Yeah, of course," Jesse said, then Joel frowned.

"Speakin' of last time," Joel said, his eyes drifting back and forth between the two men. "You never did explain how she got hurt on your patrol."

"That's right," you said, setting down your fork, "what happened? How did I fall? Was it the horse?"

Tommy and Jesse exchanged a nervous look. It was quick, but Joel still caught it. His jaw ticked to the side as he patiently waited for an answer.

"Uh, it was all so fast, and so much was happenin'," Tommy said, clearly floundering.

"Yeah, it's kinda hard to remember exactly," Jesse said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Well, try," Joel said, his voice dropping an octave. You turned your head slightly to look at him, not understanding why there was a sudden mood shift.

"We got ambushed by a small hoard," Tommy began, pushing his food around on his plate. "Thought we had it handled til a bunch more came outta nowhere," he continued, looking up to meet your eye now. "You were takin' down a runner, didn't see one comin' up behind you and it pushed you down. Knocked your head on a sharp boulder. Jesse 'n me took down the rest of 'em and that's when we realized you were knocked out cold."

You nodded, the story making sense as you remembered waking up to them yelling your name and their clothes covered in blood. But Joel wasn't satisfied. He knew they were leaving something out.

"That all?" he pressed, eyeing his brother. Tommy looked at Joel, a tense moment passing between the two before Tommy slowly nodded. He was about to open his mouth to speak when Jesse interrupted.

"It was my fault."

The whole table turned to look at him, taken aback. His hands were fidgeting at his sides as he avoided Joel's intense stare, trying to look anywhere but at him.

"I wanted to check out this department store. It was too big, we hadn't cleared the area, b-but we hadn't seen any infected in weeks a-and I thought we were good," he said, glancing up quickly at Joel, who was clenching his jaw and glaring at Jesse.

"What'd you need so bad from this store?" Joel seethed, and you saw Jesse swallow nervously.

"I-it's me and Grace's anniversary soon, wanted to get her something-"

Joel stood up quickly, his chair tumbling backwards, clattering loudly on the ground and silencing the room.

"So you wanted to get your girlfriend a present? That's why she can't remember a goddamn thing?" Joel roared, pointing at you. Tommy stood up and held his hands out.

"Calm down, Joel."

"I ain't calmin' down!" he shouted, and you jumped in your chair, scooting away from him and closer to Maria, who put an arm around you and urged you to stand.

"Let's go to the bar," she murmured, ushering you away as if she knew what was coming.

"I-I'm so sorry, Joel," Jesse stammered, tripping over his feet as he tried to put some distance between them.

"Sorry ain't gonna bring her back," he growled, rounding the table, his shoulders tight and his eyes wild. He reached out and grabbed Jesse by the collar before Tommy could react, and slammed him face first into the table. Food and cutlery went everywhere. People at nearby tables backed away but stayed to watch the fight unfold. Joel lifted Jesse up and smashed his face into the table again with a grunt, and this time you heard Jesse cry out in pain. You covered your mouth in horror as you watched Tommy try to pry Joel's hands off of him. "Wonder how many hits it'll take before you forget Grace. Maybe then we'll be even!" he shouted, pulling him back up by the collar. By now, blood poured from Jesse's mouth and his cheeks, mixing with tears as he tried to pull Joel's hands away. Just as Joel was about to slam his head into the table for a third time, you found your voice.

"Stop!!" you screamed, and by some miracle, he did. He still gripped Jesse's shirt in his hands, but Joel twisted his head around to look at you. Whatever he in your face made his fingers loosen their grip and Jesse stumbled backwards, collapsing into a chair as Tommy kneeled down next to him, trying to wipe away the blood.

Joel turned his whole body toward you, his face red and his chest heaving. His eyes were still crazed with anger but you could see it slowly melting away.

He took a step forward and you took a step back.

His eyes dropped to your feet, regret washing over him in an instant.

"Maria, can you gimme a hand?" Tommy called out, and she rushed over to help Jesse stand. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw them slowly leading Jesse towards the front door, no doubt in search of the doctor to help patch his wounds, but your eyes remained locked on Joel.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, not caring about all the onlookers still frozen in silence. But you did. You opened your mouth, then glanced around and thought better of it.

"Not here," you said under your breath, then stalked towards the exit, pushing your way past people until you felt the cool night air in your lungs.

You hurried down the street, wrapping your arms around yourself as you barreled home. You didn't turn around to see if he was following you. You knew he was. It was almost like you could feel him now. His presence draped around you like a scarf, surrounding you, engulfing you, suffocating you.

Storming up the porch steps, you flung the door open and walked inside, not bothering to close it behind you. You charged into the kitchen and paced around, your anger boiling inside you with nowhere for it to go.

"I'm sorry," he tried again from the doorway, trying to give you space. You stopped in your tracks and looked at him. His eyebrows were pinched together as he quietly waited for you to say something.

"Have you always been like this?"

His breath caught in his throat and he paused for a moment before replying. "Since we met? Yes."

"So you're saying I've caused you to act like a caveman when you hear something you don't like?" you shot back, crossing your arms defiantly.

"No, no, that's not - what I meant was, since you've known me, I've... had a temper," he said, quickly correcting himself.

You let a silent moment pass between you as you thought about what he said.

"It's no wonder it took me so long to fall in love with you," you said, and he winced. He looked away, trying to hide the pain, and you couldn't help but feel a little bad, but you stood your ground.

"It didn't bother you before," he mumbled, looking at the ground.

"Well, it bothers me now," you snapped, and he nodded.

"Okay, then I'll work on it," he conceded, looking up at you. "Happy?"

You snorted and rolled your eyes. "Thrilled."

Brushing past him, you marched up the stairs towards your bedroom and slammed the door shut behind you.

You could hear him moving around downstairs as you washed up and changed into pajamas, still seething at his behavior. How could you possibly fall in love with this man? You could barely figure out who he was - one minute he was soft and sweet, and the next he was bashing people's faces in. Even you could see it wasn't really Jesse's fault. The three of you would have agreed to check out the store together. Joel was just looking for someone to blame. It was immature and brutish and stupid.

Just as you pulled the covers over yourself, you heard a quiet rap on the door. You paused for a moment before rolling your eyes.

"Come in."

The door slowly creaked open and Joel slipped inside your room, glancing around at the bedroom you once shared together before looking at you.

"Can we talk?"

You furrowed your brow for a second before nodding, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He stepped forward and perched on the side of the bed, facing the wall so you could only see his side profile as he sat, deep in thought. You pulled your legs up so your chin rested on your knees and waited.

"I lied to you."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and you couldn't help but think of the journal - Joel lied to me - and wondered if this was it. If you were going to get your answer.

"When you asked me what I missed most 'bout... before. I lied."

Okay, so probably not the lie in the journal, but still, your interest was piqued.

"What do you miss most?" you finally asked, and he sucked in a deep breath, his eyes glistening as he stared at the wall.

"My daughter. Sarah."

Your heart clenched in your chest and your gaze dropped to your hands. A daughter?

A long silence passed as you slowly connected the dots. The way he was with Ellie. The anger. The journal entry about Tommy having a daughter. The softness he kept hidden away.

"She died on outbreak day," he began, his throat already constricting. "Died in my arms. She was shot and-" he sniffled and took a deep breath. "And I couldn't save her. I held her and watched the light leave her eyes and I -" he choked back a sob and looked down, still avoiding your gaze. "I've never been the same," he finally managed to get out.

You swallowed back the tears that were forming. How couldn't you see? Of course he was hurting. Of course he lost someone. Just like you lost your family, he lost his. Were you that selfish and blind that you couldn't see it?

"Joel, I'm so sorry," you said shakily, but he shook his head.

"Just wanted to explain why I'm... whatever," he replied, giving up and rubbing his face.

Your chest ached for him. He was in pain and you couldn't stand it. Inching forward, you wrapped your arms around his neck, tentatively resting the side of your head on his shoulder. His hand came up to cup your elbow and he tilted his head so it rested against yours.

"I'm sorry," you repeated softly.

"Me, too."

You stayed like that for a while. Extending small olive branches to each other as you sat with the weight of what the world did to you both, and you finally began to understand what might have brought you together in the first place.

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[lbcreations-blog]

Yandere Alastor with daughter reader

A Stag and his Fawn

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(Not proof read cause I'm tired but I need to post)

Masterlist

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Alastor was your adoptive father. He adopted you when you were both still alive. You were only a baby at the time, being left in a dumpster.

When Alastor was dumping bodys in the dumpster he found you, he was originally going to put you in a foster home, but when he saw you open your eyes and look at him seeming at peice, he knew it was a bad idea to put you in any foster home.

Of course, he could not just take you in. He had to get you some medical treatment. So he took you to the nearest hospital to get a check-up and other things. Then he had to do even more other things like birth certificate and adoption stuff. (You know, the essentials)

Anyways, once you were old enough, he taught you his ways of voodoo and murder. (You were already learning from about 4, lmao), and you became a perfect daughter to him (even though you were already perfect to him).

If you were to get bullied in school, those kids would regret it. He would also teach those kids' parents a lesson as well.

If you end up dying before him from it being someone's fault, he would torture that person/persons and eat that person's corpse.

Once he enters hell, he would search for you while aswell becoming a terrifying overlord. And once he finds you, he would pretend you are not his daughter in public so you would not get targeted. He knows you can look after yourself so he would let you in public by yourself, but a shadow will follow you.

But if you are an overlord, he wouldn't admit being your father, but he will treat you like his daughter in public, and he will let others' theories flow. (Overlord or not, a shadow will follow you, btw)

Now, if he dies first, he will patiently wait for you. You, of course, kill the one who mistakes your father for a deer. You then live life how he wanted you to, until you finally arrive in hell.

Once you arrive in hell, he ether will take a while to find you or find you quickly. If you quickly become an overlord just like him, he would be proud, like you have no idea.

(The ways he is with you in hell is the same as I explained in the first death choice.)

Of course, introducing you to people as Alastors' daughter, you will get interesting reactions.

The overlords would be shocked, to say the least, Carmila might like Alastor slightly more cause she has her own daughters.

Now the hotel's reactions ig

Of course, the entire hotel is shocked except for niffty and husk cause yall already probably met (I would tell you that, but that's a different kind of worm)

Anyway, sir pentious would be most likely terrified of you or just won't admit it.

Angel- well, Angel-... he's probably going to start off with sex jokes, and how unfair it is that some random bitch got to fuck Alastor. Your father was not happy.

Vaggie is very suspicious of you once you met. She knew how your father was, so you were not trustworthy. (Which was fair, you showed that same creepy smile your father did)

Charlie loved meeting you. She was and is so happy that Alastor has a daughter and she is and was happy to meet you. She was hoping to help you get redeemed, but you just told her you would rather be in hell with your father.

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I was going to make Alastor more yandere but because of 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑠, he's like that, ok? OK

I did get lazy at the end, so... Yyyeeeaaaa

Hope you enjoyed it

- 𝐋.𝐁 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

[battlekidx2]

Alastor Episodes 7 and 8 Thoughts

These two episodes really gave us a lot in regards to Alastor and I cannot wait to see where they go with him in season 2. What I find most fascinating about what they established with him in these episodes is how I think this perfectly sets up Alastor to directly challenge the show’s main themes of redemption.

Alastor is the only character in the main cast that I think could effectively challenge Charlie’s idea of redemption by making her face the question of “where the line for who can be redeemed and who is too far gone is?” 

Even Vaggie and her past as an exorcist couldn’t challenge Charlie’s ideals in the same way because Vaggie so clearly wants to be better and is trying to be better. She could only challenge Charlie’s idea of who could be redeemed. She couldn’t truly challenge the line of when someone is too far gone unlike Alastor. 

And to explain this I'll just jump right in.

It’s clear these two episodes were meant to show a shift in Alastor and Charlie’s relationship in some capacity. It’s a bit more of a subtle shift than with the other characters, but I think it’s setting up this future conflict well for the limited time the show has. 

At the start Charlie doesn’t think Alastor cares and calls him out on this. She directly states that she believes he enjoys the suffering. He refutes her idea of him by stating she doesn’t know what he feels. He purposefully hides his feelings behind a smile as a sign of control. (The first shift. It tells her there’s more beneath the surface)

Then Alastor helps Charlie enlist cannibal town and says he wants to mentor her in the song. This is more than the initial indifference and humor he got out of Charlie at the beginning. There’s an interest in seeing Charlie grow and being a part of it that wasn't there before. And, with Alastor helping Charlie here, trust is being built (at least on Charlie's end).

Then Alastor talks to Niffty (who he is clearly fond of) and admits he finds the group enjoyable to be around. He says he could grow accustomed to them after Niffty says she really likes them almost in agreement with her. He's very candid with Niffty and doesn't seem to feel the need to hide his emotions around her. They appear to be on the same wavelength.

And finally, Charlie is upset when she thinks that Alastor died against Adam and hugs him happily when he returns. In Charlie’s eyes Alastor has been helpful and risked himself and his power to protect the hotel. This is a true shift in their relationship on Charlie's end.

This bond is necessary because if (at the very least) Charlie doesn't care about Alastor then he won't be able to truly challenge her idea of redemption and the show implies it doesn't just go one way. It's just obscured.

To explain what I mean I want to look at Alastor's role in the final battle and that moment when he is alone after he escapes.

At the beginning of the battle he felt like the trump card he should have been. He makes the exorcists, before Adam destroys his shield, look like a joke. And he gives Adam a run for his money before he becomes overconfident and lets his guard down. He didn’t expect Adam to bounce back and have that much power left to show. He was caught completely off guard and paid the price. 

And instead of staying to face the end with the rest of the people in the hotel Alastor opts to save himself. He places himself first. When he leaves he seems almost smug, spouting off a one liner and smiling as he sinks into the shadows. It seems calculated and calm, but alone is a completely different story. This moment shakes Alastor and that moment alone puts his fight against Adam and decision to flee in a different light.

In this moment when he's alone he starts to lose it, saying there has to be a way out. This isn’t where things end. He will come out on top. 

He can feel his control over the situation slipping. His power and notoriety has been challenged left and right this season. First Vox, then Lucifer, then the loan sharks, now Adam. It’s one right after the other. And Adam almost killed him.

He’s struggling to grasp onto what little control he has left by forcing himself to keep on his smile and it calls back to the beginning of episode 7 when he says to Charlie that just because she sees a smile doesn't mean she knows how he really feels. His smile is a sign of control. And even in this moment you can see that last bit of control slipping. And it’s left him even more desperate for his freedom than before.

The Radio Demon was introduced almost as if he was an all powerful entity and now he is being brought back down to earth and he’s raging against it, barely keeping it just below the surface. 

But there’s even more to his breakdown than just his pride. The lines “Great Alastor, altruist, died for his friends. Sorry to disappoint that is not where this ends. I’m hungry for freedom like never before. The constraints of my deal surely have a backdoor.” strongly imply that he really does care for the residents of the hotel more than he wants to admit even to himself.

He is freaking out because he got too close to dying trying to protect and help people that he never thought he would care at all about and he’s doubling down on his plans from before. 

His immediate desperation to be free implies he is at the hotel because he is forced to be there, but he’s desperate to get out of the contract because he doesn’t like how it’s changing him. Alastor has always put himself first and here he is almost dying trying to protect this hotel and it's rattled him even more deeply than the blow to his pride.

I feel like they know exactly what Alastor can mean thematically and they want you to know he’s a villain while seeding hints there could be change under the surface (ones that Alastor himself is afraid of and wants to double down against). There’s a balancing act going on with him and it seems they really do want to challenge the idea of redemption with him. Not just Charlie’s, but his own as well.

Alastor is still in my opinion the best written character in the series. There’s just so much to unravel with him and he’s the most fun to try and dissect to me. I can’t wait to see what they have planned for him in season 2.

[prentissluvr]

something about being close — sam winchester

pairing : s.2!sam winchester x gn!reader, featuring platonic dean ➖⟢ genre : angst, fluff, ➖⟢ cw : sam and reader are lovingly mean to each other, bad insults (weird, stupid, lame), bad jokes, swearing, canon typical violence and ghosts, arguing, so much kissing, could be ooc but idc, edited but most likely still contains a few mistakes, single usage of y/n ➖⟢ wc : 9.5K summary : sam is acting weird, and when it puts people in danger, you can't let it slide (despite the fact that you're totally in love with him).

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

“hey, check this out,” sam calls to you and dean, not bothering to look up from his computer screen. “think we found our violent spirit.” you part from your own research without a single qualm, resting a hand on the back of sam’s chair as he leans back for you and dean to get a better look. “marissa hancock. she was a student at the college, died a violent death there, just like we thought. it’s thought that the janitor impaled her with his mop while he was working in her dorm hall, but he was never put away for lack of evidence.”

“explains the janitor kabob,” dean quips, already headed to shrug on his jacket. 

“easy solve,” you admit. it only took a solid half hour of searching through records to find the right murder. “but why’s she killing now? she’s had, what?” you lean further over sam’s shoulder to inspect the record, “fifty some years to be killing janitors, why start now?”

“dunno,” sam shrugs, and you can feel his shoulder brush against you, reminding you how close he is. doing your best to stay casual and maybe not stare longingly at his pretty face from this close up, you straighten your back and go to grab your own jacket as sam types away on his keyboard. “looks like her original murderer died two weeks ago.”

“right when the killings started,” dean finishes. “alright, let’s go. you got where she’s buried, sam?”

“yep,” he stands, shutting his laptop. “saint mercy cemetery, not too far.”

“hm,” you laugh out, “second saint mercy cemetery this month. people need to get more creative,” you note as you exit the motel room and head down the short hallway to get to the impala.

“and what would you name a cemetery?” dean asks, ready to catch you off guard or tease you for anything he can get his hands on.

“i should have thought of a clever answer before saying that,” you admit, “but i do wish it were socially acceptable to call them dead people neighborhoods.”

“that’s lame,” sam grins, throwing his arm around your shoulders for just about two seconds before he has to let go to get through the small doorway and outside.

“c’mon,” you complain, “i know it’s kind of lame, and definitely insensitive, but imagine someone just asked you where you’re headed after work and you get to tell them you’re going to the dead people neighborhood. cemetery’s no fun, at least dead people neighborhood is accurate.” you close the back door of the car behind you as you settle in to punctuate your point.

“you’re weird,” sam teases in a matter-of-fact tone, not even looking back from the passenger's seat to see the sneer on your face.

“no, you’re weird,” you fire back.

“alright, kids,” dean interrupts, “enough bickering like we’re four, we’ve got a job to do,” he snickers as he backs the car up.

“okay, dean,” you and sam chime, voices full of mocking and almost totally in sync. dean rolls his eyes hard, because it’s just one of those days where the two of you can’t stop feeding into the antics of the other, regressing the combined mental age of the three of you by at least twenty years. 

having known the brothers since you were kids through bobby, and starting to hunt with them about a year and a half ago, you’ve certainly grown close with the both of them. but a little closer in age, you and sam are nothing but two peas in a pod. and much to dean’s chagrin, that means it only takes a split second for the two of you to switch things up and turn against him when he tries to break up your banter. it’s pretty much all loving argumentation, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying as all hell for whoever has to witness it.

“and for the record, i like dead people neighborhood,” dean offers, ignoring your moment of synchronicity with sam.

“yes!” you celebrate, reaching around the seat in front of you to lightly hit sam’s shoulder. “you’re the lame one, you’re no fun.” 

he scoffs, mumbling something to himself about how, “of course dean likes dead people neighborhood. it’s stupid.”

you resist the urge to tell him that he’s stupid, and instead follow dean’s direction to focus on the case.

“hold on, dean. you should drop me off on campus first, one of us should make sure another janitor doesn’t fall on his mop handle before we can burn the bones,” you suggest.

“no.”

your brow furrows at how fast sam shuts you down, his serious tone a harsh contrast to his practically whiny mumble moments before. you glance at dean to see that he’s got his own eyebrows raised in confusion.

“what’d’you mean, ‘no’?” you question.

“i mean,” he clears his throat as if he’s just realized his strong denial was awkward, “that that could be dangerous alone, so i’ll go and you can stick with dean.”

you send a bewildered look to dean, one he doesn’t catch trying to pay attention to the street name up ahead. “i’m sorry, are you suggesting i can’t handle a measly ghost?” mostly you’re confused by sam’s words, but you can’t help letting a bit of offense slip into your voice.

“n-no, no that’s not what i’m saying,” he fumbles, trying to fix what he said, “i meant– i meant it would be safer for anyone not to go alone. so– so i’ll go with you and dean can stick with burning the body.”

it’s a clumsy, bad save that’s entirely unconvincing.

“you’re seriously gonna stick me with grave digging duty?” dean grunts, “y/n’s right, it’s just one ghost, we don’t need two of us to deal with it. digging up a grave is arguably harder.”

“exactly,” you reason, “which is why i should go scope out the dorm hall, and you should go with dean to the dead people neighborhood.”

“she’s buried in a family mausoleum,” counters sam, “her grave doesn’t need to be dug up, which means it’s a one person job, and since there could be an actual violent ghost in the dorm, two people should go. and don’t try to make dead people neighborhood a thing, at the very least it’s too long, not to mention it’s not funny.”

despite the fact that he’s teasing you, you’re glad to hear something normal come out of his mouth. his hesitancy to let you take on the ghost is odd, especially considering the ghost might not show up at all. it’s not like he’s never been protective of you, it’s in both his and certainly dean’s nature. but he knows full well that you are completely capable of handling one violent ghost, and he’s been weird like this for the past two weeks.

you laugh when you admit, “it wasn’t quite as good in context as i thought it would be, but it wasn’t that bad, i’m just tryna to stick with my bit,” you defend, “and fine, two people at the dorms, one on dead person arson.”

“are you serious?” sam laughs, halfheartedly tossing his head back to give you a judgemental look through the corner of his eye.

“dead serious, pun absolutely intended,” you let out a full laugh at the strangled sigh he lets out. oh how you love to rile him up with bad jokes. “you’re too easy, sam. for that, i’m sticking you on grave duty. dean and i will handle the dorm.”

“you should be on grave duty, for all the bad jokes today,” he argues.

dean practically growls in annoyance, “how about i go on grave duty, so i can get away from your annoying asses.” it’s not a suggestion, and the both of you huff out a sigh, but don’t argue.

dean drops you off a little ways from the dorm hall for you to grab a shotgun and salt rounds with less of a chance of being seen. you leave the other shotgun for dean just in case, bothered that yours is still broken from the last hunt. there hadn’t been enough time to fix it yet. so, you grab an iron rod, hoping to use that before any guns on a college campus. it’d be a sticky situation to get out of, being caught with shotguns in a dorm, and at the very least incredibly inconvenient to scare the hell out of a bunch of college aged kids at eleven pm. sam sticks the shotgun under his jacket, generally hiding it from the view of anyone not looking too closely.

walking a few minutes, you find the right dorm hall and sam hands the gun off to you to pull out his lock pick. but, glancing behind you, you shove the gun back into his hands and yank him into you.

“the hell?” he resists for a split second before you quickly interrupt him.

“shut up! hide the gun and act like you’re piss drunk. someone’s coming,” you hiss. in a swift movement, he tucks the gun back under his jacket as you shimmy the iron rod into your sleeve, then he swings his free arm around you, practically dropping half of his weight on you. “dude,” you complain, before falling into character. “sammy, come on!” you whine loudly. “i can’t reach my id with you like this,” you pretend to feel around for something in your back pocket while keeping him standing, and he immediately picks up on what you’re trying to do. he stumbles forward so that you have to use both hands to keep him upright, and you curse at your false struggle. “help me out here, sammy, will you?” you try to make your voice sound overly desperate, maybe a little innocent too, “why don’t you lean against the wall so we can get inside,” you beg, trusting sam to play his part well.

“nooo,” he slurs, dragging the word out in a whiny pitch, “don’t wanna.” he turns into you and haphazardly wraps his lanky arm all the way around your form, tugging you to him and nearly knocking the both of you over. you feel heat rush to your cheeks at this and desperately remind yourself that he’s only pressing his face into your neck so that he can get a look at the person approaching and keep the shotgun well hidden from view.

you see the girl out of the corner of your eye, young and clearly a student headed for the dorm.

“oh, thank god!” you exclaim, “hey, i’m so sorry to bother you, but do you think you could open the door for us?” you ask as sweetly as you can, pulling your eyebrows together to gain sympathy, before adding on a humorous tone, “my boyfriend is stupid drunk and i can’t get us inside.” you can feel sam stiffen for a split second at your words, and you yourself wonder if you should have just gone the “friend” route for the sake of your own sanity. you’re going to want to keep calling sam your boyfriend, over and over again.

“oh my god, of course,” she laughs goodnaturedly, and you thank the lord she’s laid back, rather than some uptight rule follower ready to report you to administration. she swipes her id and holds the door open for you, and as you struggle into the building, you think that sam is making this harder for you than it has to be. but there’s absolutely no denying you love the way it feels to just have him all over you, even for the sake of illegally entering a building with a gun.

“thank you so much,” your voice is one big sigh of relief, slightly muffled by the fabric of sam’s jacket.

“yeah, don’t worry about it,” she smiles, “you two are super cute, by the way,” she compliments before turning towards the stairs and waving a kind goodbye.

you do your best to not stumble over your words as you thank her, heat once again rising to your face, and you’re sure that sam can feel the warmth of your neck. body stiff, you turn and head down the hallway in the opposite direction, sam still clinging to you until it’s clear.

“alright, get off, you big dork,” you snort, gently pushing him away and doing your best to regain your composure to proceed as if you don’t have a massive crush on him. “did ya have to make it so hard for me?”

he shrugs with a sly grin, “had to make it convincing, didn’t i? besides, it was your idea, you don’t get to complain.”

you stick your tongue out at him and he raises his eyebrows as if to say, “really?”

“she was really nice,” you note, voice almost wistful in a way that sam easily picks up on. about a year into hunting with the brothers and dean was off buying food, you and sam had collapsed onto a motel bed together as you had many times before by then, both exhausted after a long case. that night, as you spoke in tired, hushed tones, with no need for anyone but the other to hear your words, you had somehow ended up with your head resting on his biceps and one of his legs swung over yours. 

that’s the night you told him you were jealous that he got to go to college, even if it wasn’t for long. you’d told him how you liked the idea of that life, even if you had to return to hunting after it was over. you wanted friends your age, to learn, go to stupid parties and have a college partner. you knew the experience wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, but you wanted it anyway. he’d said, sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than hunting in his opinion. he wanted you to have that. once this was all over, and you both got justice for your families, he’d help you apply, make sure you got in somewhere, maybe even go with you. a hush fell over the room and he knew you weren’t convinced.

“yeah, she was,” he says, his own voice a touch more gentle than moments ago. “we were lucky.” he doesn’t want to tell you that most college kids would be at least cool enough to let you inside, maybe not as friendly as her, but that it’s true you’d like it here. he doesn’t want to remind you of what you can’t have. 

a silence falls over the two of you, punctuated only by the shuffling of your feet or the rustle of clothes. it’s comfortable and easy because you’ve done it a million times before. you don’t have to say anything to agree that you’ll head to the basement where the original murder occured. the both of you stay quiet and light on your feet, sam always peering around corners before rounding them.

in the basement he stops you with a simple finger to his lips. he leans in close to whisper as quietly as he can, “janitor’s here.”

you resist the urge to call said janitor an idiot, because who the hell is going to be cleaning an area in which three of your coworkers have mysteriously died in the past two weeks, but you just nod instead, taking in the way that sam’s eyes look under the dim light.

“wanna wait around til dean calls or warn him?” you ask, equally as quiet. he turns his head to look back around the corner before continuing.

“well, we should warn him, but we can’t use the drunk ruse on an employee. he probably has a radio scanner on him, might even be connected to campus security,” he points out.

“fbi?”

“we look too much like college kids right now,” he reasons.

“right,” you agree, “well then, stupid college kids trying to see a murder scene? we’ll link arms and you can hide the gun behind your back. just so we’re near him til dean burns the bones. hopefully nothing’ll even happen.” it’s as if you jinxed it all in that moment, as the lights immediately begin to flicker, the buzz of electricity filling your ears and a sudden chill filling the air. “nevermind,” you curse, flicking the iron rod back into your hand and barging around the corner, only a hair behind sam.

“way to jinx it,” he grunts.

you just scoff and beg him, “just try not to use the gun.” this time neither of you attempt to hide your presence as your shoes pound against the tile floor.

“no promises,” sam says, the gun up and loaded in front of him.

“what the hell?” the janitor barely has the time to exclaim before he’s thrown against the wall.

“i got it,” you warn sam, eager to avoid gunshots and sprinting full speed towards the apparition, iron rod in front of you. you throw all your weight into reaching the ghost of the young girl before she can flicker out of reach. the iron in your hand makes contact, and she evaporates for the time being. unfortunately for you, your momentum keeps you going, through the space the ghost just occupied and straight into the section of the floor slick with soapy water. with no time to gain any semblance of your balance, you slip and come crashing to the ground. your back hits the floor and the wind gets knocked out of your lungs in the same moment that the iron skitters out of your hand.

you struggle a bit to sit up due to the wetness underneath you, gasping slightly and letting curses fall from your mouth the moment you can speak again.

in a split second reaction, sam shouts your name, his voice inappropriately taught and worried for such a silly accident. he’s by your side in an instant, strong hands pulling you up and his anxious voice asking if you’re alright. you wave him off easily, unconcerned for yourself.

“help him,” you urge, “i’m fine.” but he doesn’t back off nearly as easily as you’d think.

“are you sure, did you hit your head? you couldn’t breathe for a second there,” his hands stay glued to you as he rattles off his concerns, ones that you find utterly unnecessary and unhelpful considering the fact that you’re fine, and the ghost could reappear any second. his strong grip keeps you from bending down to scoop up the iron rod, but you have to wrench yourself away from him when you hear a strangled cry come from the janitor. he whirls around with you to see the ghost with her hands around the janitor’s neck, crushing him against the wall as his feet dangle just above the floor. the iron rod is back in your hand in an instant, but sam’s shotgun lays abandoned on the floor a few feet away.

he dives for the weapon, but with a flick of the ghost’s hand, he’s knocked against the wall with a noise so loud it hurts to hear. before she can pay you attention, you fling the iron towards her, vaporizing her once more. the iron clatters to the ground as the janitor collapses to his knees. you rush towards him, pulling him away from the wall before tugging a container of salt from your jacket’s inside pockets. apologetically, you haul the poor man to his feet, throwing a quick look over your shoulder at sam. he’s groaning painfully, but already moving to get back up. 

knowing he’s easily survived worse, you turn your attention back to the janitor, who’s sputtering out confused and incoherent questions about what in the goddamn hell is happening.

“just stay there,” you urge him, too pressed for time to add adequate sympathy to your tone. “stay in the circle and she can’t get you.” with practiced ease, you shake the salt onto the ground with barely enough to make a small, solid ring around the man.

you scoop up the gun from the ground, then turn to help sam onto his feet. “we’re gonna have to tough this out til dean gets done,” is all you say when you place the weapon into his hands, despite the urge to ask what the hell is wrong with him and why he’s so off his game. you turn to grab your own weapon, but it seems the ghost is reappearing faster and faster. this time, you’re the one who gets tossed into the wall, but you stay pressed against the cold surface as a mop flies to meet you, the long handle pushing against your throat and cutting off your air supply. you take in a strangled gasp, hands clawing at the old wooden handle and giving yourself a few splinters that you couldn’t care less about in the moment. of course, it doesn’t budge.

the second you’re flattened against the wall, sam shouts your name again, this time with his gun in the air, swinging around to get a shot at the ghost. but before he can react, it flies out of his hand and she reappears right in front of him, pushing him against the wall across from you.

he struggles against her wildly, his hand itching to get free of her hold to reach the hidden iron knife in his pocket. but before he can get there, her grip weakens and she lets out a strangled scream as she bursts into flames. the flames climb up her old fashioned pencil skirt and swallow up the bloody wound in her abdomen. her grip on you and sam falters as she burns away, then dissolves completely as the last of her ashes fade out into the musty basement air.

you drop to your knees, coughing and gasping for breath as the sound of the mop clattering to the floor echoes through the hallway. sam’s saying your name, half through a cough and his voice still so worried as he stumbles towards you. then he’s on his knees too and his hands are sturdy on your shoulders.

“‘m fine,” you rasp out, hand reaching for his bicep to ground you to something solid and steady. he stays right there, completely ignoring the poor man who’s still practically frozen in fear in the tiny circle of salt and the ringing of his phone. one of his hands slips around you to rub soothing strokes up and down your back and it brings you even closer to him, your forehead dipping to rest on his shoulder. you feel silly for how much he’s fussing over you, but you can’t quite scold or question him until you’ve caught your breath. clearly something is bothering him (and you want him so bad), so you let him hold you close.

“are you hurt anywhere?” he finally asks once he feels your breathing even out under his touch. 

you pull away from him gently, shaking your head before verbally confirming, “no, i’m alright sam. nothing more than your typical bumps and bruises.” your voice is a touch raspy from the pressure on your throat, but it’s nothing that won’t go away with some water and rest, maybe some tea if really necessary.

his hands stay on you as he stands. “are you sure?” he asks, and you can’t figure out why on earth, heaven, or hell he’s so overly concerned about you. frankly, it’s starting to worry you. and definitely annoy you. all the sudden he’s acting like you’re fragile, like you can’t take care of yourself. things which he should know for a fact aren’t true.

he lets you slip away from his hold as you swoop down to pick up your lost weapons and face the poor janitor.

“sorry about that all. you can step out of the salt now.” he looks at you as if he can’t be sure, and your tone softens a bit. he’s young, probably just a college kid himself. “she’s really gone this time, i promise. you won’t ever have to worry about her again. though, i wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to look for a different job.”

he nods and thanks you, and you tell him to repay the favor by not mentioning you and sam. then, at a pace you certainly can’t blame him for, he scurries away.

“c’mon,” you nod to sam, “we should get out of here. you should also call dean back. he’s probably worried you didn’t answer.” with that, you turn back in the direction of the stairs without looking back at sam, rolling your eyes when your own cell ring. you pick up with a, “we’re fine, dean,” before he can even ask why the hell it took you so long to answer him. he lets out a sigh, half relieved, half annoyed. 

“what took ya so long?” he asks anyway.

“had a few bumps in the road since little miss janitor-killer showed up, but we’re fine. neither of us are hurt. would’ya pick us up in the same spot you left us?”

“yeah, ‘course. already on my way, see you crazy kids in five.” with that, he hangs up and you don’t have to glance over your shoulder to feel sam following behind. it’s all just the familiarity of his footsteps, the sound they make, and the pace at which he walks. it’s the particular rustle of his favorite jacket, soft and scratchy sounding all at once. it’s the feeling of his tall figure, his broad chest so close behind you that he’d run right into you if you stopped even for a moment. you debate whether to ask him what the hell is up now or at the motel. for now, the priority is getting out unnoticed, so you clench your jaw a bit and continue in silence because you’re beginning to feel a little angry with him. you think he can feel it, so he stays quiet too, all the way out the dorm and down the street to wait for dean.

it’s not uncommon to be quieter after a hunt is finished because you’re all usually tired and more often than not achey from some toss around or another. but sam can tell there’s something else bothering you tonight. from the way you tilt your shoulder away from him, the distance so nearly imperceptible that only he would notice, he’s willing to bet that he’s that something. and though he doesn’t want to admit it, he thinks he knows why. he just won’t be the first one to say something about it because he’s stubborn, a little prideful, and most of all, too afraid to explain why he’s acting this way.

even so, he just can’t help himself. he hovers near, so near that once you’re settled by the side of the road, you can feel him without actually touching him. you’re tempted to nudge him away, just because of how overprotective he’s acting. you’re also tempted to lean back into his chest because somehow you know his hands wouldn’t waste a second in gathering you up and keeping you closer than ever before. it starts to rain a little bit, soft and almost unnoticable if it weren’t for the new chill in the air. for a moment, you can feel one hand hover over your waist, just for a second before there’s a light swish of fabric when it falls back to his side. you wonder if he’s worried about you getting too cold.

you hear dean before you see him, the rumble of the impala coming into earshot moments before its headlights appear around the corner. the car slows as it nears you, pulling to the side of the road with the front windows down and some classic rock guitar riff filtering into your ears. the music’s quieter than you know it was just moments ago from when dean was alone. he greets you two with a simple, “hey,” once he’s fully stopped and you place your hand out, palm up and wordlessly asking for sam to hand you the rifle to put in the trunk.

“i got it,” he says, not waiting for you to argue when he takes the iron from the loose grip of your fist and makes his way to the trunk. you slide into the back seat behind the passengers side and return dean’s greeting.

he twists in his seat to watch you as you close your eyes and massage your shoulder with a wince. it’s beginning to become more sore, just like all the rest of your body.

“you okay?” he asks, voice full of his normal gruffness that tells you cares enough to ask but knows not to be too worried.

you open your eyes back up to give him a nod. “‘m fine. just the usual ghost beat down. y’know, bumps and bruises.”

“mm, sure do,” he agrees, “so what? dearly departed marissa thought you were janitors?” he asks skeptically. you hear the slam of the trunk, and moments later sam’s settling into his seat in front of you.

“no,” you scoff, “some idiot kid was actually cleaning down there. told ‘im to get a new job,” you snort humorlessly.

“well, i’ll say,” dean raises his eyebrows in agreement before twisting back to face the wheel. he sneaks a look between you and sam before switching the car out of park and getting back on the road. for a few minutes, all you hear is the muted music, the constant roll of the engine, the light patter of rain on the metal roof, and the road under the tires. then dean switches off the music. “anything happen back there that i should know about?” he ventures.

“no,” sam answers casually, “nothing, just the usual.” you don’t even answer. you just can’t figure out if you should involve dean, tell him how sam was unthinking and almost entirely uncaring about the innocent civilian involved, all because he was so worried about you.

“alright,” dean concedes, glancing at you through the rearview mirror and sounding entirely unconvinced. he doesn’t turn the music back on, just lets the silence reign, so you close your tired eyes and lean your head against the cold glass of the window. you’ve fallen asleep in the back of the impala countless times before, but your drowsiness doesn’t take over this time in favor of letting your mind wander over what to say to sam. you can’t just let it be, and tonight is certainly the worst it’s gotten. plus, it’s an easy habit for you to wait for sleep when you’re already so close to the motel. 

when dean pulls into the parking lot, he doesn’t turn off the engine. “gonna grab some grub. i’ll be back in a bit with the usual.”

“grab me something for dessert, will ya? ‘m craving something sweet,” you request, leaning towards the driver’s seat. 

“sure thing,” he nods, and you slide out of the car and close the door after a thank you and tired smile. “anything for you, sammy?” you hear him ask.

“i’m good, just the regular,” sam responds as he exits the car. you unlock the motel door, and he’s inside the room just a moment later, closing and locking the entrance behind him. you stand facing away from him at the shitty table, your jacket already strewn across the back of a chair. you can hear him behind you, going through his routine movements. he’s taking off his jacket, setting it down on the edge of the bed. then he’s pulling comfier clothes out from his pack.

“you wanna shower first?” he offers, breaking the silence of the room. you can feel his gaze on your back.

“sure,” you swallow, “thanks,” you say without any sort of edge to your voice.

“‘f course,” he says, and he means that. his eyes follow you as you pull out your own change of clothes, just a tshirt and sweats, and make your way to the dingy bathroom. you’re tired, so you’re quick with it, but the water’s already lukewarm by the time you’re done. you dry off and dress quick, eager to lay in bed.

and yet, when sam takes your place in the bathroom and the sounds of the shower start up again, you sit at the table instead, picking out a few splinters in your hands before folding your arms and resting your head against them. you stay that way, even when you hear the water turn off, the bathroom door open, his heavy footfalls that are only heavy because he’s so tall and not for lack of gentleness, then the scraping of the chair across from you. he doesn’t even say a thing, just looks at the top of your head and the tip of your nose. the shape of your hands, the point of your elbows, and the curve of your back.

with a deep breath and some pain in your neck, you lift your head. you look back at him and slump your chin into your palm.

“i’m upset with you,” you state.

he frowns. even his frown is pretty. “i know,” he sighs.

“so? why are you acting like this?” your voice is tired, but you still manage to infuse accusation into your tone, “sam, why are you suddenly acting like i can’t take care of myself out there? you’ve been weird for nearly two weeks now, and i don’t like it. i don’t like this.”

sam doesn’t know how to respond. he’s used to being yelled at, shouted at, angry at. he’s used to yelling and shouting and getting angry back. and though he’s certainly fought with you before, he’s still not used to the level tone and the way you say each word so slow, like you’re not actually arguing. just upset and rightfully a little angry, like you just want to understand. 

sure, he can hear the plain anger in your voice. you’re not trying to hide it. but you’re not yelling. how’s he supposed to use the heat of the moment to shout back, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” or “i’m just trying to help,” when there is no heat in the moment? instead, he’s embarrassed and the only answer he can come up with, the only one that he can mean if he answers in that same, level tone you’re using is, one he’s having too much trouble saying aloud. any other answer would just be too wrong like that. or maybe if you were shouting, he’d tell you the truth, because he could yell it out, loud and rash without thinking about it. if he says it now, it’s not because he just let it slip. if he says it now, there’s no way to take it back, to get around everything threatening to bubble over the surface like forgotten water on a heated stove.

“i don’t think that you can’t take care of yourself. i know you can,” is all he says, because it’s true and it skirts around the real questions. his voice is rough, halfway between pleading and holding back from the anger he doesn’t yet know how to control. you heave a sigh.

“so why, sam? why?” you let the heavy question stew for a moment, then go on when he doesn’t even meet your gaze, “or, i don’t know, if you’re not gonna tell me, just promise me you’ll stop?”

he clenches his jaw because he knows he can’t. he just wishes you would shout. then, he’d tell you. he can imagine the words coming out of his mouth, but only if they’re loud, only if you’ve pressured him to do it. he realizes that’s probably fucked up. but the other way is too vulnerable, too vast of a leap to take to when he’s just not sure.

“sam,” you press, “you don’t have to worry about me, i swear. i don’t understand what’s got you like this, but it’s getting in the way of you being able to do your job right. that kid could have died because all you could do was worry about me,” that’s when you begin you raise your voice, just a little. because that’s what’s making you most upset about this. you hate it ‘cause you feel like he’s doubting your abilities as a hunter, but you hate it even more because it’s making him disregard the safety of others and of himself, for you. “sam, i only slipped. sure i got the wind knocked out of me, but you dropped your gun for that? frankly, that was stupid. and the poor kid was being choked, and if i hadn’t been lucky enough to throw the iron before she could react, he could have died. i need you to understand that. i need you to understand that i can do this job, that i’m strong enough, and that if you don’t trust me with that? people could die. and i’m not about to let that happen. so either you tell me what’s up and we figure it out, or you stop and i pay you the huge favor of just dropping the whole thing, okay?”

suddenly he looks all sad. “i do trust you,” he says, voice all sincerity and nothing more.

you close your eyes for a moment, half in frustration and half because you could really use some shut eye right about now. “that’s not– well, it is. it is part of the point. but i need an answer from you, i need you to tell me you won’t let whatever this is put somebody else in danger.”

he clenches his jaw. he’s still stuck. you still haven’t shouted.

“just spit it out. i can practically see something rolling around on the tip of your tongue. just say it, sam.”

there’s an edge to your voice, so maybe he can.

“i can’t lose you.”

there it is. it’s said with an edge, too, like he wanted to shout it but couldn’t. it’s said rough and a little bit angry and full of this undying faithfulness and yes, love. 

but you still don't quite understand it, so it makes you sigh. it makes your eyes soften a bit and it makes you a little angrier than before. it makes you want him to mean that with all his chest and it makes you want to shake him hard until he comes to his senses.

“that’s always been a danger, ever since we met. you know that,” your voice is something so oddly gentle in its frustration, “sammy, you’re my best friend, and i can’t lose you either. hell, i don’t think the words “best friend” even begin to cover the depth of how much i care about you. but we’ll both be safer if we trust each other, if we trust in both of our abilities to keep ourselves and the other safe. tell me that you understand that.”

it takes him a minute to speak again, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he searches for what to say. “two weeks ago,” is all he manages at first. you try to think back to it, and it immediately dawns on you. “i couldn’t prote–”

“sammy, no,” you interrupt, “that wasn’t your fault, okay? i know this doesn’t help to say, but we can’t always protect each other perfectly, to the extent we really want. i’d do anything for you, sammy, you know that.” after that there’s supposed to be a “but” where you explain to him that you can’t let that get in the way of your thinking straight and keeping everyone safe. instead, those last words just hang, suspended and weighty in the air.

“but you could’ve been killed,” the way he says your name is almost desperate. “it was dean that saved you. i was there and i couldn’t even help. what if next time, dean isn’t there? what if–,” his voice breaks, and he effectively cuts himself off from finishing the sentence. you know what he was trying to say.

any answer you give to that, you know isn’t enough. “but i wasn’t killed, sam. i’m here. i’m right here and i’m alive and i’m well and i don’t want to spend all my time worrying about you worrying about me. not like this.” you let that sit for a moment or two, and though his eyebrows are still all sad and pinched together, you think you’re starting to get through to him.

“but i can’t lose you,” he repeats stubbornly.

“sam,” you’re practically begging at this point, frustration creeping back into your voice, “the best way for you to keep me safe from ghosts and monsters and everything else is to take care of the problem, efficiently and effectively, like we always do. if there’s no monster, it can’t hurt me. but if you drop your weapon just because i slipped on soapy floors and lost my breath for a second? then it’s not just you and whatever innocent bystander around who’s more vulnerable now, it’s me too. so if that’s what it’s gonna take for me to convince you to stop fussing over me, then, please, think about it like that.”

sam is smart. he loves logic and reason, and you’ve handed him just that. but even more than that, he loves you. in the end, that trumps all.

“but i love you.”

he says it like a plea. like he didn’t mean to say it at all but it was the only thing running through his mind, and therefore, the only thing running off his tongue.

“sammy,” you breathe out, and then it’s like there’s no more air for you to breathe back in. that sweet nickname of his coming out of your mouth, resting on your tongue before tumbling into the air, is half like a drug to him, half like a bitter wind to sober him up quick.

“i– i only meant that i–,” he meant just that and now it’s said and now he’s never going to take it back, even if you hate him for it. “i meant that,” he says it firm and true this time, “i love you, so i can’t lose you.”

the way he looks at you, right into your eyes like they’re the prettiest things he’s ever seen, like you’re the best thing he’s ever had, oh, it has you hooked like bait has a fish who bit down too hard. it has you praying he never looks at anybody else like that again. it has you rising out of your seat and it’s pulling you across the small, wobbly table. he’s wedged into the grooves of your heart, so deep it could kill you to pull him out, so you follow the tug and he leans in too so the line isn’t so taught, so that it’s easy and comfortable and beautiful to reach his lips. 

his hands are like a net that catches you up in big, lovely swaths. they travel from your own hands, that lean against the table to keep your lips pressed to his, up to your elbows and then he knows he can never get enough. so he pushes up out of his own seat, drags his hands further up your arms until they can wrap around your biceps and push you up. not for a moment does he let his lips leave yours as he stands and pulls the both of you away from the table until he can bring you close, right into his wide, warm chest. then his hands can roam, gentle over your sensitive back, up to your neck then the back of your head to push your face into his. the other hand gets to go from your waist to your hips, or dip to the small of your back and press you flush to him.

you can only get away from him for a second, just enough time to whisper, “i love you, too,” before he swallows you back up. you melt right into him, and he loves it so much, but he feels how tired you are and he remembers he is too. so he only kisses you for a minute longer before letting your head rest on his shoulder. without any reservation, he presses a long kiss to your temple and you sigh a sweet sigh into his worn out tshirt.

unwilling to let go, he waddles with you, all bundled up into his arms, to the edge of the bed. without warning, he collapses into it, taking you right down with him and pulling out a little shriek from your mouth that he finds to be nothing short of endearing. he laughs, a belly laugh that you can feel the vibrations of as it moves up into his chest and out of those pretty lips of his. with some struggle to readjust yourself, you press a sweet peck to those lips. another easy i love you.

then you collapse back into his hold and the low quality plush of the motel bed. “now promise me you’ll pull yourself together next time we get a case?” this time your ask is so much more lighthearted, sweeter because it’s mumbled into the skin of his arm. you mean it just as much, but you can’t help the fact that you feel like you’re floating, “now i really, really can’t have you getting us in trouble. i’ll need to be able to kiss you at any given moment, so you have to promise me that you’ll trust me to take care of myself. because it works, and you know it. it’s the safest way. for both of us.”

the sigh he heaves can be felt through practically your whole body. it’s heavier than you wish it’d be, but he relaxes against you just a bit more. “i know,” he relents, “i’ll do my best, okay?”

“thank you,” you breathe out, too relieved to care that he couldn’t quite promise. you know this all means he’ll just be more protective of you, but you can say the same for yourself. now that you’ve kissed him and he’s told you he loves you and you’ve said it back, right against his lips, you’ll worry about him extra. but the both of you know the best ways to keep each other alive, and that has to be enough for you. you allow yourself to snuggle closer into him before joking, “d’you think dean’s ever gonna come back?”

you feel sam’s quiet laugh more than you hear it. “yeah, he really did us a favor with that one, didn’t he?” you can hear the smile in his voice before he remembers himself, “do not tell him i said that.” having you in his arms like this has got him a little giddy, saying things aloud that he normally wouldn’t.

letting out a laugh of your own, you promise, “i won’t. but i’m starting to get hungry. maybe we should call him and tell him the coast is clear, we didn’t tear the room to shreds or anything like that.”

sam chuckles again, and you decide very quickly that you like the way it feels for him to laugh with you so close. neither of you move, not to get a phone to call dean or to stop yourselves from growing drowsy. not for anything.

you’re half asleep when you hear the familiar sound of the impala’s engine near the room. it turns off, then comes the sound of its front door being open and shut. just because you’re hungry and it spells the arrival of food, you force your eyes open and let out a groan when you wiggle your arms out of sam’s hold to stretch. the way his hands shift to your waist as you do so has you a bit flustered and you wonder if you’re supposed to pretend in front of dean that you haven’t spent the last half hour kissing and cuddling. but sam doesn't seem to care, because he just sits up when the door’s lock clicks, one hand by your head to hold him up, the other still settled decidedly on your waist. so you decide not to care either, and turn your head around to accidentally grin at dean when he peeks his head through the door. you had meant to look casual, but the second someone else becomes a witness to the fact that you’re laying together like this, you’re beaming.

dean visibly relaxes when he takes in the sight, pushing the door all the way open to walk in, then lock the door back up behind him.

“hey, there,” is all he says, shooting the both of you a look that says, really, you’re just gonna keep sitting there like that in front of me? it’s not that bad, but he’s allowed to tease because he just turned a twenty minute food trip into an hour purely for yours and sam’s sake. you clear your throat awkwardly, and only when you sit up does sam’s hand fall away from you.

you pad over to the table as dean places the paper bag of fast food on the surface. he drags over an extra mismatched chair and sam follows close behind you, pulling the remaining chair to sit beside you. as you begin to pull food out from the bag, now clearly gone cold to the touch, dean sits down, complaining that they didn’t have pie, so he bought you two cookies for dessert instead.

“well, thank you for the food anyways,” you smile, hoping he picks up on the fact that you’re thanking him for the other thing too, “damn shame there was no pie, though,” you say, more for his sake than yours. you wonder why he didn’t just pick some up from somewhere else since he was gone so long.

“mhmm, and don’t sweat about the pie. just got a slice somewhere else,” he shrugs, “ate it in the car, there was only one slice left and i didn’t want you to feel like you were missing out,” he explains with that familiar teasing edge which makes you think he indeed caught onto the double meaning of your thanks. you let out a small huff of laughter before tearing into the food, only now realizing just how hungry you are. you’d felt it creep up on you on the car ride back, smiled at the mention of food from dean, even stupidly thought about it during a quiet moment in the argument with sam. but the second your lips found his, that was the only hunger you’d felt. to keep kissing him, to keep him close, keep him loving you. only when you settled all the way into his arms, sure that you’d be able to satiate that hunger again, could your body remember you hadn’t eaten since early this afternoon.

the three of you eating like this, late at night and without much conversation, is common and comfortable. dean is on what you assume to be his second burger, because there’s no way he’d have just sat in the car, probably parked in a random lot and wondering how long he should be gone, and just waited to eat an extra-bacon burger until he came back. sam’s nearly the same as always, too, but tonight he sits so close that his forearm brushes against yours. you bump elbows or knees every so often, and the side of his socked foot is pressed against yours the entire time.

you sigh, content with the nearness of him that’s so much more complete and full than it was just hours ago. now, there’s no need to hover. now, you can just swoop in and land, take what you want, give what the other needs.

dean makes no teasing comments, but you can feel the way he’s been examining, reading the two of you. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something aloud, but you know that he knows the two of you so well that he understands almost exactly what must’ve happened while he was gone. maybe he’s not teasing because this is the outcome he wanted to come back to. he probably knows better than the both of you how you were crushing, pining even, over the other.

he takes his turn in the shower when he finishes his food, and you and sam begin to clean up a few minutes later. once all the trash is crumbled up and tossed away, you go around and turn off all the lights but a single bedside lamp. as you turn away from clicking off the lamp in the corner of the room, sam’s right there in front of you. you don’t have the time to be startled by him sneaking up on you, he’s so quick to cup your face with his hands and slot his lips against yours. he lingers a long moment before pulling apart just enough to rest his forehead on yours.

“gonna kiss you forever,” he whispers, and you realize you’ve turned this giant man into a complete and utter sap. 

“you better.” your grin is wide and real and he can almost feel your lips moving, he’s so close. just as you’re ready to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him hard, the steady white noise of the shower shuts off. you sigh and laugh a little, leaning in to steal one more chaste kiss before brushing past him. but he turns with you, hands still warm on your cheeks and not letting go until he’s kissed you once more.

when dean’s gone from the bathroom, sam follows you in to brush his teeth with you. you’ve done so plenty of times, but tonight, sam gets to loop his free arm around your waist and pull you into him, rather than stand shoulder to shoulder in the cramped space. he gets to make you giggle through toothpaste when he does so, and you get to switch your toothbrush to your other hand and wrap your own arm around his waist, too. he gets to make you laugh dangerously harder when he tightens his hold on you to prevent you from bending and spitting into the sink when you’re done. you try to hold back the laughter with your mouth full of toothpaste, then he’s the one laughing around his toothbrush because there’s white, foamy spit rolling down your chin from the corner of your mouth and threatening to drip to your dark-colored tshirt. of course, he lets you spit and rinse your mouth, relishing in the continued sound of your laughter.

“you asshole! almost ruined my shirt til the next time we make a laundry stop!” you take revenge as he rinses out his own mouth, splashing the running water onto his face as he swishes water around in his mouth. 

he spits the water out in surprise and sputters an indignant, “hey!” before he bursts into laughter again.

you’re both giddy, high off of kissing each other, and silly from the exhaustion of a hunt, so he tugs you into him by your hips and keeps laughing into the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers up through his soft, newly washed hair. you kiss the closest thing you can reach and he melts right into your arms.

it’s only when you yawn that he pulls away from you. “we should get to bed, huh?”

you nod and twist towards the door, peeking through it to see dean sleeping in his bed, his still form highlighted by the warm light of the cheap lamp. taking sam’s hand with a shy smile, you lead him to the other bed, turning off the last light and climbing under the covers with him not far behind. he loops his arm under your head, then the other over your waist to splay his hand flat across the small of your back. the way he does it is exactly the way you wished he would, as if he’s thought about holding you like this every night you share a bed, just as you had. with a final glance towards dean, he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

you try to stifle the giggle that the soft, ticklish contact of his lips wants to pull from your chest, praying that dean is really as asleep as he looks. the both of you stiffen a bit when you hear dean’s blankets rustling, but you let out another breathy, quiet laugh when it goes silent again.

sam’s about to kiss you all over again when dean’s voice rings out into the hush of the night, startling you both.

“no shenanigans while i’m asleep, lovebirds,” he grunts.

that brings more laughter out of your lips and a rush of heat to your face that you’re sure sam feels, too. he just groans in annoyance at his brother, because of course dean had to get in at least one borderline dirty comment. neither of you really answer as dean shifts around in his bed again, likely turning his back to you and mumbling something mostly unintelligible. 

the only word you can catch is “finally.”

[imfinereallyy]

hummingbirds

Steve’s crying on the porch of his parents' house, with a duffel bag and baseball bat, when Eddie pulls into the driveway.

“Jesus, Steve, what happened?” Eddie crouches down to get eye level with Steve. Despite being dark out, the sun set long ago, and the outdoor lights weren’t on. Steve turns to look at his parents' car in the driveway and thinks back to when the lock had distinctly turned shut on the front door. They were around to switch the lights on; they just didn’t care anymore to do so.

Steve is grateful for the moonlight, as he can see the pretty lines on Eddie’s face. Even if they currently curve into a frown.

“Hey Eds.” Steve’s voice cracks.

“Stevie…what happened?” Eddie asks again, this time it’s gently. It cradles Steve and holds him softly. He wishes Eddie’s hands would do the same.

“Did you know hummingbirds are the only birds that can fly backward?” Steve sniffles.

Eddie’s face scrunches in confusion, “What? Birds? You lost me.”

Steve pushes past Eddie’s confused face. “They are the only birds to fly backward. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Dustin to teach me that out of the munchkins. It was actually El. She’s apparently going through a bird phase. And I don’t think the others are very interested. So I try to pay attention when she talks about it. And she taught me about hummingbirds.”

Eddie settles on his knees, “That’s great, man and those little shits should listen to her more, but I’m not sure what that has to do with what’s wrong. You called me to come pick you up and hung up before I could even answer.”

Steve bites his lip, “Sorry, my dad clicked the phone off.” Eddie’s face shows surprise, but Steve keeps talking before he can interrupt. “And well, I guess hummingbirds have nothing to do with anything. It’s stupid, really.”

“No, no. It’s not stupid. Tell me about the birds, Stevie.” Eddie’s hand finally reaches out to Steve. He brushes the fallen hair out of his face, and something in Steve just sets him off.

“You see, they can fly backward. And well, no, I’m getting ahead of myself. You see, my cousin Tucker is here to visit. And let me tell you, he is the worst. Like Eddie, you would hate him. Conservative, capitalist enthusiast, real bootlicker kind of guy.”

“Sounds like the worst. Especially if he made you use the big words.” Eddie’s hand falls away, and Steve mourns the loss. Normally, when people make jokes about his intelligence, it stings. It makes him feel small. But when Eddie does it, it isn’t mean or a poke at how stupid Steve is. With Eddie, it’s almost like he’s reminding Steve that he is smart. That maybe Steve is the one making himself small.

He is.

“Anyway, he’s visiting, right? So my parents come home. And I haven’t seen them in months, since before spring break. It’s nearly October, and I haven’t seen them, and I can’t tell if I’m excited or dreading their arrival. It’s always a fight when they are around, how I’m not good enough, how I should be more. Their visits always end up being cut short, and me feeling like shit. But this stupid, stupid part of me was hoping it would be different this time. They haven’t seen me since the “earthquakes.” Surely they’ll be happy to see I’m okay, right?”

Eddie stays silent, his face revealing nothing.

“Of course, it’s not. They only came home because my cousin Tucker was in town. All the way from Indy cause it’s so far. And my mom ‘made’ dinner, as in she ordered it and pretended she made it. It wasn’t even that good, but we all pretended it was the best thing ever made. Cause that’s what they do, pretend. And the dinner is fine, boring. Most of it is just me staying silent while my dad and Tucker talk about the business. Tucker runs the Indy office while my dad is in New York. Ya see, Tucker has been gunning to take over for my dad when he retires, which is another word for dies—“ Steve let’s put a bitter laugh; he wonders if his parents are listening. He doubts it.

“—and they are going on for the whole meal, and I’m almost through the home stretch when my dad brings up me, coming to work for him.”

Eddie reacts finally, “You’re going to New York?” His voice is strained, like he is trying very hard not to yell, not at Steve, but at anyone who will listen. Steve is quick to correct.

“No, no, I’m not. This was news to me to Eds. I have no interest in my dad's business, and as far as I was concerned, he didn’t want me a part of it either. Guess that has changed. Has? Had? I don’t know…” Steve trails off.

“Harrington.”

“Don’t call me that. It makes me think you’re mad at me. Besides, it doesn’t fit me anymore.” Steve bites.

“Sorry, Steve. I’m not mad. I promise. Just, what do you mean?” Eddie’s head tilts to the side, his curls cascading down his shoulder. It reminds Steve of a river, dark water rippling in the moonlight.

“I was so shocked, Eds. When he said that. That I was quiet, I should have corrected him, maybe. Maybe I could have fixed it. But Tucker was so quick to act. He was pissed. He knows my working for my dad means me being set up to take over. And Tucker, he’s worked too hard to make sure he does get the business. But instead of yelling, he just gets this concerned look on his face. And he…”

“He what?”

Steve wrenches his eyes shut as he recalls the rest. As he recalls the way Tucker’s face faked worry as he struck. Like he has been waiting for the right moment to ruin Steve. He manages to open his eyes eventually, only to see Eddie’s face once again. The honest look on his face is enough to push Steve on.

“In the summer, Robin was feeling sad. This was before you guys knew about each other, and I was the only one who knew about her. And she was sad cause nothing had happened with Vicky and she felt so alone. And I hated seeing her like that. And so, so I took her to Indy. And, and—“ Steve starts to hyperventilate.

Eddie takes him by the shoulders. “Breathe for me, Steve. Come on, baby, match my breaths. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Steve matches Eddie’s breath. Ignores how the word baby calms him down instantly. “Tucker told my dad that he saw me in Indy. That he saw me come out of a gay club, Eddie. And he went on about how they should focus more on getting me help, than putting me in a power position, again Eds, which I don’t even want! And how I would be a bad look for the company. How would it look if a company whose whole image is family values, only successor, turned out to be gay.”

Eddie flinches a bit, but doesn’t let go of him. Steve feels instant regret. “That isn’t what I meant, Eddie.”

Eddie shushes him, “I know, sweetheart. You’re just upset. I know. Did you tell him that you weren’t there for you? Or maybe that Rick was mistaken; it was a regular club?”

Steve rubs a hand down his face, “And what? Tell him that my two best friends in the entire world are gay? So that I can be shipped off to New York and never see them again? Yeah right. I’d rather face the bats again than be removed from you two. And I’m not going to out you guys like that.”

Something warm crosses Eddie’s face, “So, you lied then?”

“Before I could say anything my dad reacted.”

Eddie freezes, a darkness swims in his eyes. “He put his hands on you?”

“No, no!” Steve panics, and he purposely leaves out the ‘not this time.’ Eddie isn’t necessarily a violent person. But he does have a protective streak. As admirable as it is, Steve doesn’t want him to get hurt.

Eddie relaxes but only slightly.

“He was actually pretty calm, which is even more terrifying. I expected him to yell, throw things. But instead he just turns and says, ‘Is this true, Steven?’. And what gets me is they didn’t even question why my cousin was anywhere near that club in the first place. Why did he see me there? Instead, he just asks me if it’s true. And it’s the first time in a long time, if ever, that my dad asks me this. He always just assumes I’ve fucked up. And this time, he really asked me about the truth. And I couldn’t, I couldn’t lie. I don’t know why, but it felt wrong to. So I didn’t. I just told him, ‘Yes. It’s true.’”

“Stevie…”

Steve throws out a bitter laugh, “And you know what? He still doesn’t freak out. He just tells me I have five minutes to get my shit and get out. That I needed to call a ride because the car was under the name Steve Harrington, and I was no longer a Harrington. And he was so calm. And my mom just sat there, and I just listened. I didn’t fight. I am so tired of fighting.”

“Steve, why not just tell them the truth? Tell them you were there for a friend?” Eddie’s tone isn’t scolding, only curious.

“See, that’s because I started thinking about hummingbirds, Eddie. I started thinking about how they fly forwards and backward and how they are the only ones that can do that. Isn’t that fascinating? These small birds are so strong and interesting, and can do something no one else can do. But no other birds understand; the rest of them just fly forwards Eds. And I—I feel like that sometimes. That I’m not flying in one direction, ya know?”

Steve feels like he isn’t making much sense, but then Eddie nods and looks at Steve. Like really looks at Steve, and sees him. And Steve feels raw, stripped of his skin, exposed, and it should hurt, but it feels so fucking good. And Eddie stares deep into Steve’s eyes and says, “Yea, I know.”

“I didn’t want to lie. Because even though Tucker was wrong, he was also right. I wasn’t there for me, but I think I needed to be there. To get it. And I think that I’m flying backward, Eds. And I’m worried it’s wrong of me, that it shouldn’t be allowed. And that there is no purpose to me flying backward if I can just go forwards. If I can just fly with the rest of them. But I don’t think, I don’t think I’ve ever really taken flight before. Not before I understood I could also go backward.”

It’s in this moment, where Steve is covered in tears and snot that Eddie finally takes his hands and cradles Steve’s face. Steve’s never felt safer.

“Listen to me, sweetheart; there is nothing wrong with you. Okay? Nothing wrong with you. Just because you can fly forwards doesn’t mean you have to, doesn’t mean you should. Sometimes you’re going to have to fly backward; you’re not going to have a choice. It’s just the direction you’re fast, huge, hummingbird heart takes you. And it might take you a bit to learn that. To understand that, but I will make sure that you do. Because you, Steve Harrington, are fucking fearless and fucking beautiful, and I am so goddamn proud of you.”

Steve finally reaches his breaking point and collapses in Eddie’s arms. Full body, ugly sobs wreck Steve. He is sure that he is soaking Eddie’s favorite Black Sabbath t-shirt to the bone, but he can’t find it himself to care. His fingers dig into Eddie’s back as he clutches tighter as his breathing picks up.

“Breathe, baby, breathe. Remember that. I got you. I got you.” Eddie whispers into Steve’s ear.

Steve picks his head up when he finally calms down, and looks at Eddie. “You.”

“What’s that?” Eddie says softly, rubbing circles through Steve’s polo.

“I called you. Because, I think—no, I know, that I’ve been flying backward, to you. For a while now. And I knew that, even if you weren’t too, you’d still show up. And I just—just need you to know that. I am so grateful you showed up.”

Steve knows he should feel nervous telling Eddie all this, but he isn’t. He strangely feels like his dad at this moment, calm and unmoving. Steve doesn’t understand many things in this world, but he understands that even if Eddie doesn’t love him like that, Eddie still loves Steve in plenty of other ways.

It’s still nice, though, when Eddie leans forward and kisses Steve’s forehead. Steve closes his eyes and releases a breath.

Eddie slides his head down slightly so their foreheads are pushed together affectionately. “Stevie, I’ll always fly backward to you.”

Although it’s awful how they got here, Steve can’t help but feel happy at this moment. He also can’t help the silly giggle that comes out of him, “I think we have just lost all meaning to this metaphor at this point.”

Eddie snorts, “Oh, have we? And here I thought we were having a nice moment, a poetic one at that, telling each other ‘I love you.’”

Steve blinks at him, “You love me?”

Eddie frown lines finally turn upwards, “Yea baby, I love you.”

“I—“

Eddie cuts Steve off. “Tell me in the morning. When your tears have dried, and I’ve woken up with you in my arms. I want to hear it in the daylight. Okay? Let’s go home.” Eddie stands, offering a hand to Steve.

“Home?”

“Yea home, got to fly back to our nest.”

Steve can’t help the snort he releases, “Dork.”

Eddie just smiles, “Thought I told you to save the ‘I love you’ til the morning.”

Steve smiles back as he takes Eddie’s hand, “I didn’t…”

Eddie squeezes Steve’s fingers, “Yea, ya did.”

****

I’m back, not dead, and in my feelings. Thinking about expanding on this one. I hope you guys like it. 🧡🧡

[roanofarcc]

ONE DANCE, PLEASE?

pairing: trevor lefkowitz x ghost bride!reader

summary: since your death, weddings at Woodstone have been a source of bitterness for you but that doesn’t stop trevor from attempting to cheer you up with a dance

word count. 1.6k || masterlist

warnings: fem!reader, mentions of death, dead!reader

a/n: this is my first ghosts fic so please be gentle! I love the idea of a ghost bride and debated on making it into an OC or reader story. I think I like having it be in little one-shots! it’s a crime more hasn’t been written for trevor (or any of the show’s characters). feel free to request for trevor or any other ghosts characters <3

“Are you going to mope around for eternity?” Sasappis asked you, standing arms crossed in front of a beautiful garden decorated to the nines. The backdrop to your sulking was stunning flowers tied in bunches and pastel dresses moving around the patio-turned-dance floor. 

“Is that not the point of being a ghost?” you replied, jutting out your feet forever stuck in kitten heels and skin-colored pantyhose. Sass lightly kicked your foot with his and nodded his head to the corner just off the dance floor where the rest of the ghosts danced and laughed. A part of you was jealous of how easily they enjoyed themselves at weddings and how they were not plagued with an eternal hatred for them and what they represented. 

It always felt like a cruel joke, even though it never had anything to do with you, when Sam and Jay hosted a wedding at their B&B. As much as you loved the couple, you couldn’t stand what most considered a joyous event. The union of two people in love, not tainted by tragedy, grew your restatement each time. Weddings were a part of the business and helped Sam and Jay bring in the money they desperately needed to fix up the mansion, but that didn’t mean you had to enjoy yourself. Instead, you spent each event sulking on the sidelines, ignoring the pang in your chest, and avoiding your ghostly counterparts' advances to cheer you up. The only thing that would’ve cheered you up was a do-over of your big day that was ruined by a strike of unluckiness, resulting in your untimely death.  

Sass narrowed his gaze at you but decided against saying whatever he wanted to. Instead, he turned on his heel and headed back to the ghosts. You adverted your gaze back down to the beads sewn into your dress, picking at them with the wish you could pull the garment apart with your hands, but since it was what you died in, it would forever stick to you. 

A slow song played through the DJ’s speakers as the sun slowly began to set over the yard. Strung lights glittered warmly, bathing the attendees in a golden glow. The bride had looked radiant since she arrived at the mansion days ago, and all day you had to watch her and her husband’s love run circles around you. Your malice wasn’t aimed directly at the happy couple, but rather at what they represented and the reminder of what you almost had. 

Someone appeared beside you, their presence clouding your solitude-sulking. “What a bunch of losers,” the person said, causing you to turn your head and meet Trevor. “I mean, seriously, this song was lame when I went to weddings and people are still dancing to it? I get the appeal of throwbacks but let’s pick this snooze-fest up a little, am I right?” 

You rolled your eyes. “What do you know about weddings?” 

“I happen to have been invited to a lot of them, thank you very much. Well, the receptions and bachelor parties, usually. Those weddings had a lot more alcohol and single bridesmaids.” You said nothing in response, hoping your dimly lit mood would shoo Trevor away. You were mistaken, though. If anything, your silence only encouraged him further. He moved in closer to your side, standing with his hands on his hips as he gazed out across the crowd. “I think they may need some help livening things up a bit. Care to join me?” 

He often tried to do that, brighten your mood by offering to dance with you. And every time you turn him down, not because you didn't want to, but because you’re worried that the second you start to enjoy yourself at a wedding, tragedy will follow a second time around. You liked Trevor and couldn’t stand the thought of enjoying yourself only to hurt yourself, again, or him. In your head, as long as you moped around, everything would stay the same as they were, which you loved more than you’d admit aloud. You liked your ghost-mates and you liked Sam and Jay. If you somehow brought some unfortunate curse upon any of them because you enjoyed yourself just as you had on your own wedding day, you weren’t sure you could cope with that a second time around, not when you hardly coped with it from the first time. 

“Trevor…” you sighed, defeated and slumped-shouldered. 

Normally, he dropped it after that. He usually sat quietly at your side until his excitement and urge to join the party overwhelmed him and he resumed dancing with Flower or attempting to play pranks on the livings with Thorfinn. That time, however, he took you by surprise. He moved directly in front of you, face set with a certain tone of seriousness that was odd. 

“Nope,” he said, simply. “You are not moping for eternity. I won’t let you.” 

“That’s not your choice.” 

He smirked, cheekily and annoying but stupidly charming. Those three words suited him too well. Trevor extended his hand out, making a grabbing motion with his hand. “One dance, that’s all I’m askin’. That’s all I need to change your mind.” You tightened your grip on the skirt of your dress, unbudging at his request. “One dance. Please?” His voice was a little lower, pleading almost. 

One dance. You never got to dance at your wedding. Something bad could happen, it probably would. 

Trevor’s fingers grazed your knuckles, tapping them lightly and looking at you in a way, underneath the golden light, that made you consider it. He noticed your hesitation and dropped his hand back down at his side. 

“Okay,” he said after a beat before he turned away with a little frown on his lips that made you feel even worse. 

There was something wrong with you, maybe it was some kind of ghostly side effect of dying on your wedding day; perhaps you were doomed to live in the murky waters of what-if and why. 

The bride and groom were in the middle of the patio dance floor, spinning each other around in quiet fits of laughter and bodies pressed as close as they could get with the bride’s fluffy dress. They were married, dancing as two halves of a whole with nothing bad lingering over their heads. There was no impending doom, aside from you sitting on the outskirts. The doom was you and your mind, rippled with jealousy, sadness, and a million questions of what exactly you could have done differently that day. But the truth was, there was nothing you could have done. Fate was fate, as Flower had once said in one of her more insightful conversations. Fate was messy and included bear attacks, arrows in necks, and accidents. Fate found you there, at the Woodstone mansion forever a fiancee but now entangled with the fates of your ghost friends who also found themselves there forever. 

Forever was such a long, made even longer with eternity hanging on your shoulders. How many more weddings would you sit there, watching and sulking in your own unhappiness that others wanted to fix for you? 

Something between a groan and a sigh left your lips as you stood up, letting your wedding dress fall back down to the ground in the pristine condition you had died in it in. “Trevor,” you said again, louder as you called after him. He stopped, slowly turning around with a confused quirk of his brow. You nervously picked at the beads again, but that time wasn’t to pick them off but rather settle them back in place in a similar way to how you had picked at them awaiting your turn to walk down the aisle. A dance was not nearly as monumental as that, but it carried a weight that pressed down on your chest. 

“One dance,” you said. He stared at you for a moment like he wasn’t sure he had heard you right. It wasn’t until Thor punched him in the arm with a hardy laugh and Hetty pushed him forward towards you. 

Trevor approached you, smoothing out his tie. “Really?” he asked. 

You nodded. “If anything bad happens, I’m blaming it on you," you said only half joking.

He smiled, wide and toothy and the way that made you subconsciously want to copy it. “The worst thing that’ll happen is me stepping on your feet. I haven’t slow danced since prom.” Despite that, he dramatically bowed and extended his hand. “May I have this dance,” he said in a terrible accent. You couldn’t help but laugh lightly, some of that weight lifting from where it hurt your chest. 

Once you accepted his hand, he all but dragged you to a quiet corner of the dance floor, away from where any livings would walk through you two, and away from the other ghosts and their suggestive smirks and comments pointed at the two of you. 

When you danced, with his feet clumsily trying to avoid stepping on yours and hands rested on your waist, nothing bad happened. You did not die a second time around, nor did tragedy strike in the way you feared. The only thing that occurred was dancing, peppered with occasional laughter and a quick apology when Trevor stepped on your skirt and halted your movements. You recovered with a shake of your head and a slight lead in the dance, which he didn’t voice but silently appreciated.

[empresskylo]

ೃ⁀➷ call of duty incorrect quotes

⋆｡°✩ all featuring gn!reader insert ⋆｡°✩ AUTHOR'S NOTE | hopefully these aren't cringey lol, i pulled most of them from pinterest. i just thought they'd be fun. let me know if you'd want to see more.

cod masterlist | main masterlist

soap: *bursts into the room, starts panicking* ghost: you: ghost: what happened? soap: no one died you: WHAT KIND OF ANSWER–

gaz: have you heard the joke about the gaslighter? soap: no... gaz: no, you definitely have. soap: no I haven't. gaz: you've literally heard it before. soap: no i haVEN'T gaz: yes you have soap: I DON'T KNOW IT?!? gaz: you're crazy, man. ghost: *hiding his smirk* you: *giggling beside ghost*

soap: I just fell– you: from heaven? soap: no, like I literally just fell– you: in love with me? soap: my fucKING ARM IS BROKEN you: okay, but do you think i'm pretty? be honest.

you: i sleep with a dagger under my pillow. gaz: weak. I sleep with a gun. ghost: you're both pathetic. you: oh?? and what do you sleep with? ghost: soap. you: *spits out drink*

you: what are you, 5? konig [snorts]: yeah, 5 heads taller than you. you: konig: konig: I'm sorry, please don't kill me.

you [on the phone]: uh... price? price [tired]: is the base on fire? you: well...no? price: then it's not an emergency price: *hangs up* gaz: WHAT DID HE SAY? you: he said it's not an emergency. soap [pinned under a cabinet that ghost and alejandro are trying to get off him]: HOW IS THIS NOT AN EMERGENCY

ghost: i invited you into the woods because I crave the most dangerous game. you and soap [both nodding]: knife monopoly. ghost: i was actually going to hunt you for sport but now i'm interested in whatever the fuck knife monopoly is.

ghost: *is carrying all the groceries* you: *holds out a hand to help* ghost: *aggressively moves all the groceries to one hand to hold your hand*

you: can you keep a secret? ghost: do you know anything about my life? you: no, i do not. good point.

[you and ghost texting] you: where are you? ghost: turn around ghost: no the other way ghost: wrong way again you: ghost, where exactly are you?? ghost: at base, but the thought of you turning aimlessly in circles amuses me.

soap: go big or go home! you [tears in your eyes]: i am begging you, soap. for once in your life, go home. please. just this once. go home. ghost: *nods in agreement* soap: i'm going big!

soap: hey, random question, what are your favorite flowers? you: peonies, why? soap: you: were you going to get me flowers? soap: you: soap: it's a possibility...

you: why are you smiling? price: what? can't I just be happy? soap: gaz tripped and fell in the parking lot.

ghost: i wish i could block people in real life. you: restraining order. soap: murder. gaz: jesus fucking chr–

you: so you don't have a thing for anyone at the moment? soap: well... i didn't say that. you: oh. what's she like then? soap: you're just gonna assume they're a 'she'? you: are they– you: are they not a girl? soap: *gay panic*

ghost: i made tea. you: i don't want tea. ghost: i didn't make tea for you. this is my tea. you: then why are you telling me? ghost: it's a conversation starter. soap [looking between you two, confused] you: that's not really a conversation starter. ghost: oh, it isn't? we're conversing, aren't we? checkmate. you [scoffing]: well it's a lousy one then. ghost: never said it wasn't. you: *looking at soap* soap: *looking at you*

price: what does 'take out' mean? alejandro: food. gaz: dating. soap: murder. you: it can mean all three if you're not a coward. ghost: soap: gaz: price: you: what?

ghost: look, i know you think my judgment is clouded because i like soap a little bit. you [holding ghost's notepad]: you doodled your wedding invitations. ghost: no, that's our joint tombstone. you: oh, right, my mistake.

konig: hello, welcome to our first debrief. konig: today we're talking about... you [whispering]: building loyalty. konig: killing royalty. you [under your breath]: oh my god.

ghost: i am a very bad person. very very bad person. i am a horrible person. soap: you: gaz: ghost: "no you're not, ghost! we still love you, ghost!"

[ashwhowrites]

Hiiii I’m the anon that sent this: Reader gets broken up with by a guy that she actually really liked but in reality this guy was a douchy football player that was rude to her friends (but she didn’t know about that.)

It was meant to be a request if you’d wanna write it!

And id say that Eddie does have a crush on reader.

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

The friend

Y/N waited years and years to fall in love. She grew up watching princesses find their prince, and she wanted to feel that. She wanted to feel loved by someone who chose to, someone who looked at her and would do anything to be with her. Even if he had to fight everyone to do it. She wanted to see what it felt like to be cared about.

To her, Greg did just that. She was smitten with the jockey football player the second he sent her a dazzling smile during a game. It was like his eyes found hers in the crowd, it was fate.

It didn't take long for him to ask her out and for her to say yes immediately. She was swept off her feet and never landed. He was sweet and romantic. He showered her in love and compliments. She thought he was perfect all around.

Eddie and her friends had other thoughts. Greg was two-faced but Y/N wasn't aware of that. Chrissy hated Greg, and she hated cheering for someone like him. He was selfish, cocky, and an ass. It took a lot for Chrissy to dislike someone, and she hated Greg, that meant something.

Eddie had two reasons to hate Greg. One reason was that Greg never had nice things to say to or about Eddie. Greg believed he was trailer dirt and a freak, just like everyone else. But Y/N didn't know that. The second reason was that Eddie was helplessly in love with Y/N.

Did he have the chance to go for it? Definitely but he was terrified. It was scary enough to tell a girl he liked her, but to tell his best friend? He wasn't sure he could handle the rejection.

Eddie and Chrissy grew closer over their dislike for Greg. Chrissy knew Eddie was in love with their best friend before Eddie realized it. Chrissy never understood how Y/N didn't catch on. Eddie was in no way good at hiding it. He stuttered over sentences, clumsier than ever, smiled the second she looked at him, and he'd do anything she asked.

Once Eddie saw her with Greg, he believed that was his sign that they would never be anything more. Eddie and Greg were two completely different people.

When the news broke out that Y/N and Greg broke up after almost a year together, many people had things to say. But no one would say it to her. Eddie felt relieved that his year of suffering was over. But he knew it was a matter of time before some new guy came along. He wasn't sure he could let that happen.

~~~

"I don't understand why he broke up with me," Y/N sobbed. Her head was in Eddie's chest as she soaked his band tee in her tears.

Eddie softly held her in his arms. His chin was on her head as his fingers ran through her hair.

"I don't either, babes." And he was honest. He couldn't imagine ever breaking up with her. She was easily the best person anyone could be with.

"Do you think it's because I'm not pretty enough?" She sniffled, her head facing him as she pulled back away, letting him search her face for the flaws she believed she had.

Eddie smiled and cleaned off her tears with his thumbs. Her red puffy eyes, wet cheeks, and trembling bottom lip. He couldn't lie to her.

"No. I think even right now you are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

Eddie was dead serious. A sense of truth in his eyes as he barely blinked. His voice was deep and low, with no sounds of jokes.

The intensity in his face made her nervous and shy. She dug her head back into his warm chest as she held him tighter.

"He's the idiot who let you go."

~~~

Eddie was patient as his best friend recovered from the breakup. Chrissy and Eddie high-fived behind her back, sharing smiles and looks.

"I heard you and Greg broke up! Congratulations that guy was a di-" Dustin's voice was cut off, replaced with a groan.

Y/N turned around confused, Eddie standing next to Dustin with a smile. Dustin held his arm with a whimper.

"Congratulations? What does that mean?" Y/N pushed further.

Eddie and Chrissy looked at each other, trying to think of a fast lie.

"I know someone who likes you! It's a congrats to him!" Dustin said with a smile as he covered his lie. He looked to Eddie for approval and his smile dropped at the look on his face.

"Who?" Y/N perked up. For once, after a long week of crying, she smiled.

"That's not his place to tell. Why don't we go to lunch?" Eddie said, grabbing Dustin's arm and dragging him down the hall.

"That was weird," Y/N said as she turned to Chrissy.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Y/N asked. Chrissy stood with a huge cheesy grin.

Chrissy snapped out of her daydream of Eddie and Y/N finally together. Quick with a lie.

"It's good to see you smile again, now let's go eat."

~~~

Another week passed. Two weeks since her heart was shattered but she could feel herself healing. She had to thank Eddie for all of it. He was always there, holding her as she cried and talking her through everything.

Her mind was still thinking about who Dustin was talking about. The idea of a guy liking her made her feel less insecure. Maybe Greg was the problem and not her. She drew blanks as she tried to think who it was.

She hoped it was Eddie, but that felt like throwing wishes in an empty fountain. She was nowhere Eddie's type. She wasn't edgy enough or listened to the same music he did. She barely understood Hellfire and his ideas. He wasn't much of her type either, but there was something about him that she would never find anywhere else. He was one of a kind and she figured that's why she fell for him so hard.

Eddie never made moves, so she figured he didn't like her. That's why she had no problem going out with Greg. She thought maybe if Eddie showed jealousy, she'd have her answer. But he was just the same, nothing changed.

She was staring at the wall as Eddie woke up from his sleep. His tired eyes took her in. He had his arms around her already, he pressed his chest against her back tighter. She felt her body get warm as his arms squeezed her against him and his face snuggled into her neck. The soft breaths of his nose hitting her skin, his warm body against hers. Do all best friends cuddle in the same bed?

"How long have you been awake?" His deep and tired voice made her bite her lip. She wiggled in his arms, he loosened them as she turned around to face him. She kept herself in his arms, snuggling closer until she was nose to nose-with him.

"I never fell asleep," she whispered

The moon shined into the room, reminding her she had been trying to sleep for hours.

"How come?" He asked, his palm flat against her back as he softly rubbed the bare skin as her tank top slid up. She shivered as his hands touched her skin.

"A lot on my mind," she said truthfully. She admired his eyes. No matter how many times she looked into them, the brown continued to take her breath away. She took in the rest of his face. The bridge of his nose, the red lips she craved to taste. The slight hair growing above his lip, she knew he'd shave in the morning, but she loved being the only one who got to see it. His frizzy hair spread out on her pillows.

"Greg?" Eddie asked, admiring her face the same way she was with his.

"No," Y/N said, "about who that guy is Dustin brought up." She nervously bit her lip as she watched Eddie's reaction.

"Oh, how come?" Eddie asked, he hid his nervousness with a yawn

"Do you know who it is?"

"Uh no," Eddie said his eyes looking elsewhere

"Then why are you looking away?" Y/N smiled, she poked his cheek

He nervously laughed

"I don't know who he is," Eddie said, looking into her eyes as he finished the sentence.

"Such a bad liar! tell me," she squealed excitedly. He groaned as she left his arms. Sitting up, she looked down at him.

"Why do you want to know so bad? Are you ready to move on?" Eddie asked, maybe this was an opening.

"I don't know. Feels nice to know someone else likes me. And depending on who it is, I think I'm ready to give it a shot." She shrugged

"I can't say who it is, but I'll give you some hints." Y/N smiled as Eddie sat up.

"He has dark hair and dark eyes, he admires your beauty. He likes how smart and creative you are. He loves it when you laugh, it makes his heart race. He smiles whenever he thinks of you. And he's been dealing with these feelings for years." Eddie said, too lost in his confession that he was scared he gave too much away.

"So you are close friends with him?" Y/N asked, she turned her head in confusion. She would not believe that any of Eddie's friends had a crush on her.

"I think I said too much," Eddie chuckled nervously and laid back down. His head hit the pillow and he closed his eyes. "Let's go back to sleep."

Y/N thought in silence for a few seconds. She thought long and hard about what he said. The guy he described matched his appearance. Eddie always complimented her looks and laughed at all her jokes. He seemed nervous to talk about the guy, scared he said too much, which meant he was worried she would find it out. He dragged Dustin away when he brought it up, which told her he was worried Dustin would spill the beans.

"Y/N?" Eddie asked, cracking open one eye

It was Eddie

Eddie had a crush on her!

"Y/N" Eddie said again, both eyes open as he went to sit up

But Y/N pushed his body right back down as her lips smashed on his. Eddie's eyes widened in shock as her lips moved against his. Her hands were on his shoulders as she leaned down.

After his shock, he kissed her back. His hands reached up and held her hips. Their kiss grew deeper as Y/N straddled his lap. He sat up, lips still attached to hers. He moved on hand up to her head and pushed her head further into the kiss.

Y/N felt every part of her body light up with electricity. Her hands moved into his hair. Something she spent years wanting to do. His lips tasted better than she imagined. He was soft but controlling. It made her head spin.

Eddie pulled away, his eyes heavy in lust.

"That was...wow." Eddie breathed out, he blinked a thousand times. Believing if he blinked hard enough, this moment would vanish. But to his luck and prayers, she was still on his lap.

"You are the friend," she said, breathy as she still waited for air to return to her lungs

"Uh yeah," Eddie nodded

"Thank god," she smiled before her lips smashed into his again.

Tags!

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