#this is great I can just let my brain shut down and click click click for an hour

[episodeoftv]

lmao I’ve been working on moving all week so I finally have a moment to queue up some polls

[baby-yongbok]

OnlyFans

Best Friend!Yang Jeongin x Afab!Reader

✦ Genre: Friends to Lovers - non-idol - [18+ Only]

✦ Content Description: 6.6k + 11 screenshots

✦ Summary: Your best friend finds out about your OnlyFans account which leads to you discovering how you really feel about him.

✦ CW: Unintentional exhibitionism(?), Unprotected sex [wrap it up party people] ✦ A/N: This is my FIRST Jeongin fic and I am hella excited! (and nervous) I really hope that you enjoy it! This is a hybrid of fake texts and story so make sure to open it all the way to see it all! AHH I'm so nervous.+ reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ ✧ Masterlist ✧

Sleep abandoned you after you and Jeongin spoke, your thoughts were everywhere and nowhere and your body was working against you. Why does the fact that your best friend thinks that you’re hot turn you on? Why are you imagining him touching himself to the sounds of you moaning while you fuck yourself?

 Is he big? 

How would he feel? 

Wait - how did he not recognize your voice? 

You never show your face, only the shoulders down, but you’ve uploaded voice notes. You’ve done tons of horny rambles that he had to have listened to. Okay, wait wait wait, does he only get off to you? He said that you’re the only girl that he follows on the site… Okay, stop, brain shut the fuck up. 

The next day you tried to operate how you normally would. You went to the gym, you got your morning coffee, you thought about Jeongin moaning at the sight of you, you screamed in your car and you went back home. Honestly, this is working out great. 

You did everything that you could to distract yourself from the unending thoughts. You did laundry, watched TV, skipped rope on your balcony, you even started color organizing your closet. That’s when your phones started ringing with that tone that you know all too well.

 You stared at it for what felt like a second, you tried to calm yourself down and cursed yourself out in your head for making this such a big deal. He said that he doesn’t care. He won’t mention it, he’ll just get off to your videos and that’s that. Jeongin is your best friend who finds you hot and touches himself to your videos, that’s so normal. You’re so normal about this. 

By the time you finally hyped yourself up to answer his call the phone stopped ringing and you let out a huff of heavy air that you weren’t even aware you were holding. You’ll call him back…later.

Not even three minutes later there’s knocking at your front door and you rush to open it. You’re expecting a package today so this must be it. You swing the door open and your heart jumps out of your chest and runs down the hall. “Are you okay?” 

Jeongin waves in front of your face to grab your attention as you stare at him, unmoving. “I called, you didn’t answer.” You clear your throat but end up choking a bit from how dry it is. You opt for nodding your head while you desperately swallow your spit to try and save you from further embarrassment. 

“Right, yeah yeah come in, what’s up?” You hastily stumble to the side as you open your door wider. He stalks in like he always does, comfortable and confident. “You have my green jacket, Felix hyung wanted to borrow it tonight.”

”I gave that back, didn’t I?” You smooth down your skirt, suddenly feeling super self conscious. He’s seen you in this exact outfit more times than you can count but it’s different this time, right? No, it’s not supposed to be different. We’re acting normal. We’re so normal about this.

”Noona?” His fingers wrap around your wrist and you jump out of your thoughts, literally. “Is everything alright? You keep spacing out.” 

Has his hand always been this damn big? That’s all that you can think to yourself as you stare down at where he’s holding you. “I’m fine, Jeongin,”

”You usually call me Innie.” He retorts with furrowed brows until it all clicks for him. “Is this about last night?” 

You pull away from him like he’s on fire and start power walking to your bedroom before he can say another word. “I’ll go look for that jacket.”

You slam your room door closed behind you and sink to the floor against it immediately after. This is crazy, you’re acting crazy and horny and - and - fuck, has his hand always been that big? 

Has he always called you noona that smoothly? Has he always been like… that?  Wait, no, pull it together. Find the jacket and send him away so you can spiral in peace. 

After about ten minutes of searching through the mess you made and battling your inner demons you find the jacket that Jeongin came for. When you leave your bedroom you expect to see him sitting on your couch but you find him in your kitchen instead. He’s washing your dishes while he hums some song that you’re sure that you could identify if you concentrated but you can’t think straight. Your brain isn’t working at all because your best friend is standing there, at your sink, washing your dishes… In only a white tank top and gray sweatpants. 

Your eyes find the discarded sports sweater he arrived in thrown sloppily over one of your counter stools before they quickly return to Jeongin’s toned back. This shirt should be illegal. He shouldn’t be allowed to look this good. 

You stand there, jacket in hand and thighs pressed together while you try to muster up the courage to say something, anything. Just as you’re about to speak he turns around with a cup full of water but it’s only full for a second before he jumps with a scream and pours it all over himself.

”Ya, noona!” He huffs, bracing himself against the counter. “What the hell? You scared the life outta me.” He drops the now empty cup into the sink and braces himself with both hands against the marble. 

“Why are you just standing there?” You don’t even hear his question. You can’t hear anything except for the fast beating of your heart and incoherent screaming from your last brain cell as you take in the sight before you. 

The front of his shirt is soaked and you can see right through the fabric sticking to each and every dip and contour of his unbelievable body. Has he always been… so hot? “Noona, seriously, what is going on with you? Do we need to talk about something?” 

He steps towards you and you take a clumsy step back. “I uh, found the jacket.” You sit the jacket on the stool where his sweater is then look back at him. You look him in the eyes this time to avoid possibly fainting but you quickly discover that his gaze is just as intoxicating. 

“Forget the jacket, I’m trying to figure out if -“ He takes another step towards you and you take two back. 

“Okay, so I’ll see you later, right? Awesome, later Innie.” You rush back to your bedroom just as he takes another step to try to stop you. You slam the door shut and repeat the same routine as earlier. When did he get so hot?

What the fuck? Did he just ask you if you like it?…Why is the answer yes? Why does that make every thought that you’ve been thinking for the past 12 hours way worse? You gotta pull it together, you can’t let a simple question cause you to spiral. He probably didn’t even mean it like that…right?

You spend the next three hours trying to forget that text. You take a shower and cook yourself a dinner that you barely even touch because it’s not what you want. It’s not him, do you want him? 

You drag yourself to your bedroom after you stuff your leftovers in the fridge and plop down on your bed. You scream into your mattress once or twice before you decide that you can’t take it anymore, you need to do something. Anything. 

Before you can even really think about it you’re in your closet that should honestly count as a second bedroom but you're fine with it being your mini studio. This is where you’ve filmed every video, where you capture every picture and record every ramble. This is where you are when you make the content that Jeongin loves. Maybe he’ll love this too.

You make yourself a bit comfortable in front of the large mirror on the wall and turn on your voice recorder. “Hey there…Do you have a second? I just wanna get something outta my head.” 

You settle into the fluffiness of your bean bag chair and spread your legs in front of the mirror. Your pajama shorts ride up a bit and the thin gusset exposes just enough of your cunt for you to take in. “I’ve been thinking about you all day, yeah you. I can’t get you off of my mind and it’s driving me crazy.” 

You sigh into your phone, glancing down at the recorder to make sure that it’s still running. Your free hand runs over the scarf tying your hair back and trails down the side of your neck. Your fingers brush over your sweet spots slowly and carefully kinda how you think he would do it.

”I want you.” It’s more of a whisper than you intended but you keep going. “I want you so badly that it’s driving me mad. I bet you know that though, don’t you?”

You nearly say Jeongin’s name at the end of that sentence and you nearly moan it into the air when your fingers brush over your nipples. “Tell me that you thought about me too.” 

Your hands start moving faster, grazing your covered and exposed skin with a hungry haste that you’re sure that Jeongin would recreate. He’d explore you with a lust driven by curiosity and desire. He’d rip you apart and take his sweet time putting you back together. He’d be rough and gentle, slow and fast, shallow and deep. He’d be everything.

You didn’t even realize that you were still talking into the recorder when your eyes snap open. You have no clue what you’ve said and you have no clue when you started rubbing at your clit but you don’t care. Moans are tumbling from your chapped lips as drool threatens to spill over the corners.

There’s nothing but pure carnal desire lingering around you and it’s all for your best friend. All for a man that you’ve never looked twice at until today, or have you? You always knew that Jeongin was attractive. You always felt a tingle when he’d hold you or play around with you but you’ve learned to push it down. It was manageable until last night. That’s when the dam broke.

”In- I - I need you.” You almost said it, almost let it slip. “Touch me please, please.”

Your fingers are slipping inside before you can even process it. You’re stroking up against your g-spot at a pace that should be painful but you feel nothing but bliss because you’re thinking of nothing but him. Him him him. 

The slick sounds of your cunt are loud enough to be caught on the recorder but you wouldn’t be surprised if they’re completely overshadowed by your moans. “Make me cum, please please please, m’ gonna cum.” 

Your vision is going white before you can even take a deep breath, it gets caught in your throat as you cry out. You’re panting, mumbling curses left and right and then right as you’re ending the recording it finally slips. “Innie”

After sitting and staring at your reflection for maybe thirty minutes you finally pulled yourself up off of your bean bag chair and freshened up. You plopped down onto your bed face first and screamed, this seems to be becoming a routine. 

Once you get a grip you sit up against your pillows and stare at the new audio. How could you make this while thinking about Jeongin? Are you a terrible friend? Can you blame him for being hot? Can you say that it’s all his fault and just live life hating him for ever finding your account? No, I mean, yeah you could but that would be stupid.

You load the audio into your Only Fans account and put together the new post. You usually wouldn’t think twice about uploading a ramble, you’d usually listen to it in your headphones to check the quality and then throw it online for your subscribers to enjoy but this one feels different. This one feels wrong to post. After a bit of debating you take a deep breath and go for it. It can’t be that bad right?

Nevermind

It’s been about an hour since you posted the audio and it’s gotten back to back likes and comments. You’ve even gotten some chat requests with tips that you plan to reply to later but the one that just came in caught your attention. 

You don’t know what it is about it, maybe it’s the username or the energy behind their message but you’re almost a thousand percent positive that it’s Jeongin on the other side of this chat. 

You sound so pretty in your new audio. You’re really fueling my imagination tonight. I.2.n.8 Sent a tip 

You stare at the message for so long that you forget to blink. This is so obviously him. The user name is a dead giveaway. Jeongin is messaging you about your new ramble… you shouldn’t reply.

Fuck.

You replied. You replied and you flirted so fucking hard that you’re sure that he’s blushing in his bed just like you are right now. You’ve talked to plenty of guys like this. You flirt and make them feel special and then boom more tips but you don’t even care about the money right now, not when you’re having so much fun texting - sexting - the only man that’s been on your mind. Your best friend. 

When you see Jeongin the next day at a small get together you expect it to be awkward. You expected for him to give you knowing looks from across the crowded restaurant table but he didn’t. He acted completely normal like he hasn’t been sexting his best friend for the past eight hours. 

You tried your best to mimic his demeanor. You spoke to him as normally as you possibly could and as the night went on it got easier to ignore the elephant in the room. You stole some food off of his plate and even sang karaoke with him at the bar that you went to afterwards. You almost forgot about the messages, until you got home. 

Care to help me with a situation, sweetie? I’ll make it worth it, I promise. I.2.N.8 Sent a tip

Holy Fuck, that’s a big tip… like, money… that kind of tip. You sat on the edge of your bed with a messy cocktail of cheap liquor running through your veins and giving you confidence to do things that will surely have you screaming into your mattress later, and not in the way that you really want. 

You strip down and head to your closet, clicking a few pictures in poses that you’ve never tried before and some that are your tried and true classics. You hold your breath as you organize the album and attach a price to it. If he really wants to see it he can pay, you’ll be needing the money to fund your therapy sessions after this anyway cause this teasing is driving you insane.

Right when you send the set to the ‘mystery’ guy a text from Jeongin drops down into view and you’re instantly covered in goosebumps.

Ayen 🥐❣️: I had fun with you today, missed you. Ayen 🥐❣️: I work late tomorrow but I’m free the day after, wanna come over?

This is suspicious… right? You should decline. Yeah definitely decline, you don’t wanna risk anything happening that could ruin your friendship. 

You’re screaming into your mattress again.

 You accepted the invitation as you were thinking about declining it. 

You never stood a chance. 

You don’t sleep, instead you plan a cute but chill outfit to wear when you go over to his place. It’s not a date but you still wanna be cute, this isn’t weird. This is normal. 

What’s not normal is the way that you’ve been glued to your phone since this chat with Jeongin popped up. You’re not neglecting your other messages but you do spend extra time on his chat. You give him exclusive content that barely costs a thing and you’re fucking enjoying it. You’re addicted. So much so that when you get to Jeongin’s house the next day for your hang out it’s all that you can think about.

You’ve been here for about an hour and a half. You thought that it was just gonna be you and Jeongin. You thought that it was gonna be a nice best friend date. It’s not. 

“You seriously never saw that video before?” Jisung asks Felix with a mouth half full of whatever he ordered a bit ago. You’re sitting next to Jeongin on the couch with his roommate Seungmin next to him and his other roommate Felix on the floor with Jisung. ”Never.”

They fall into some conversation that everyone seems to be paying attention to but you. You’re too busy staring at your blacked out phone screen as you try to cope with the fact that you’re sitting next to the man that you’re secretly sexting. 

He hasn’t made anything weird just like he promised, everything is fine. You just need to calm - what the fuck?

Your phone chimes and your screen lights up to show a browser notification. An OnlyFans notification. You look over to the man next to you to catch him stuffing his phone in his pocket while he laughs at something that Felix said. Did he seriously just text you?

He did. You open your browser and the message is right there. Staring at you while you stare at him.

Bet you’re lookin’ so pretty today, sweetie.  I.2.n.8 Sent a tip Mind showing me what you’re wearing today? 

You gulp down the spit pooling in your mouth and choke a bit but you hide the cough well, you think. Why would he text you now? Why here? Maybe this is a good chance to see if it’s really him. Yeah, this is your chance. 

You type the cutest reply you can think of while your heart does the cha cha slide in your chest and hit send. You hold your breath as you wait for the ding but you’re choking once again when you actually hear it. 

Jeongin reaches into his pocket and smiles down at his phone. He doesn’t unlock it. He doesn’t check the message. But you know what he does? He fucking smiles at you. 

“You okay, noona? You’re spacing out again.” Seungmin is replying before you can even open your mouth. 

“Maybe if you actually spoke to her instead of texting that OnlyFans girl she wouldn’t have to daydream.” The other two instigate Seungmin’s teasing and Jeongin only rolls his eyes with a smile. 

“You’d be obsessed with her too if you’ve seen what I’ve seen” He settles back into the cushions a bit, extending his arm to the back of the couch behind you. He feels so much closer to you like this, or maybe it’s just because he’s talking about you to all of your friends. “She’s worth obsessing over.”

“Share her account then.” You jump a bit at the suggestion, it was quick but it was enough to gain Felix and Jisung’s attention. Jeongin is the opposite of you. He isn’t phased by the suggestion one bit, he just smiles down at his lap and shakes his head. “Nope, she’s a treasure that I plan to keep to myself.”

Seungmin scoffs and the other two start with the teasing again but Felix’s gaze keeps floating back to you. You try your best to relax, no one knows that you’re the OnlyFans girl so they aren’t actually talking about you. But this on top of Jeongin texting you while sitting right next to you is starting to be too much.

“Yeah yeah, tease all you want, I’m getting a drink.” Jeongin asks if anyone else wants anything from the kitchen and collects requests from almost everyone except for you. You just sit there quietly staring at your lap, quietly dying inside until the burning in your chest gets your feet moving. 

“I’ll be back.” You mumble but only Felix replies, he’s the only one that heard you and his eyes follow you as you take the same path that Jeongin did a second ago.

Your friend is looking into the open fridge when you get to the kitchen. He’s grabbing a bottle of water when he notices you come around the corner.

“Hey, did you want -“ 

“Not here.” You whisper through clenched teeth, it’s quick and quiet enough for you to get the point across and then escape. “Do not message me here, are you insane?” Jeongin closes the fridge, water bottle in hand and a grin on his lips.

”What?” You look back to make sure that you’re still alone before stepping closer to him. ”Do not text me here.”

”Why would I be texting you when you’ve been right next to me?” He sips from the bottle in his hands before sitting it down. “I think that you’re confused about -“

”You’re I.2.n.8, I know you are. You’re the one who’s been tipping me and texting me on OF for days.” Jeongin looks down at the tile in an attempt to hide the smug grin on his face. “You promised not to make it weird.”

”I kept my promise.” He shrugs, looking back up at you with a different gaze, a darker one. “I haven’t made anything weird. I haven’t brought it up. It’s you who thinks that I’m texting you.”

He steps closer, leaving little room between you two. You can feel your face getting hot, the temperature is rising with each second that your eyes are on his. Your thighs press together and you take it as a desperate plea from your body but you don’t know what for. “ Do you want it to be me texting you?” 

The air feels too thick with him so close, you can’t breathe. It’s too much. You turn away, desperate to retreat back to your safe space on the couch but he grabs your wrist before you can escape. 

His other hand finds your waist and guides your back against the marble counter next to the fridge. “Don’t run away from me again, noona.” There’s barely an inch between you two and the air feels dry at this point. Your tongue feels too heavy to control in your mouth so you dip it out to skate across your bottom lip. Jeongin watches the movement carefully, too carefully.

”Tell me, do you want it to be me, hm?” He shifts, caging you between his arms as he leans against the counter. You catch the flex of his muscles from the corner of your eye and it makes you feel dizzy, what is going on? “Do you want it to be me who tells you how badly I wanna ruin such a pretty thing like you?” 

You bite back a groan and sink into the surface behind you. He steps forward, now impossibly close as he moves to whisper in your ear. “Is that what you want, sweetie?”

Oh fuck, it is him. It’s really him.

”Jeongin, we can’t” You’re whispering to him so he whispers back. “Can’t what? What are you thinking about? I’ve only asked you a question.”

”You can’t be this close to me.” Your words feel forced and your limbs feel heavy as you try to find a way to settle against him. “This isn’t right.”

”Yeah? So you touching yourself in your closet and moaning my name is fine? But this isn’t right?” Your eyes widen the second those words leave his mouth, how did he know that you film in your closet? He’s been there a couple of times of course, he’s sat in your bean bag chair and he’s helped you pick out outfits but he never knew that you do Only Fans. So if he knows that you’ve been filming in your closet that means he recognized it from one of your videos… which means that he also had to have recognized you. 

“You knew that it was me the whole time didn’t you?” Your eyes flick from his to his lips and back up. “You knew that it was my account.” His lips spread into a wide mouth smile as he mimics your previous pattern with his dark pupils. 

“Maybe I did.” He moves his hand to your arm, running his fingers over the exposed flesh of your wrist. Every touch feels like fire as the pads of his fingers glide up your forearm. “Maybe I hoped it was you.”

His fingers press into your flesh every so slightly, it’s enough to make you shift into a firmer press of your thighs. “Maybe I only subscribed to the account because it looked like you.”

His fingers take their time going over the curve of your shoulder. They tease the strap of your top for a second, before dancing up the curve of your neck. “Guess I got lucky, huh?”

That was what tipped the bucket. That is what had you crashing your lips to his and wiping that smug smile off of his face in an instant. He moans into your mouth before you can moan into his, his hand cups your neck, pulling you closer as his other hand grabs at your waist.

It’s heated and sloppy. He feels just as desperate as you do with every clumsy swipe of his tongue over yours. You’re panting into his mouth, only pulling away for half a second to breathe before you’re tasting him again. 

Your hands grab at his flexing arms, scratching and kneading the flesh before you move to make fists into the fabric of his shirt. He feels unreal, he’s more than what you dreamed of. He feels so strong and soft and he tastes like lust itself.

You press your body further into his, taking in the matching thump of his heart to yours as your lips move in an impossible rhythm. It’s clear that you both feel the same hunger, the same longing, the same need for each other. Maybe this was driving him insane too.

“Jump.” His command is muffled and wet against your lips but you understand him and swiftly obey. His hands move to the back of your thighs to help you up onto the counter and he briskly fills in the space between your parted legs with his slim waist. 

You wrap your arms around his neck as his hands wander up your clothed thighs, his fingers dig into the plush flesh with a deep groan. “Fuck, do you know how long I’ve thought of this?” He trails kisses over your cheek and over the shell of your ear. 

“I watched every video.” He moves down the curve of your neck, nipping and kissing the flesh to milk moans from your parted lips. “I listened to every audio. I saved every picture.” 

He sucks bruises into your clavicle, licking over the rising cherry marks and planting sloppy kisses. “But none of that is as good as this.” You’re panting and moaning into his ear. Words don’t make sense. They jumble and disappear behind your eyes with each rough grab and desperate lick. 

“Do you feel as good as you look, sweetie?” Your eyes flutter open when he pulls back from your neck. Both of your lids are low and your eyes have a lustful haze fogging them. “Can I please feel you?”  His hands explore you while you fight with your tongue to form words. They skim over your curves and make you feel like you’re electric. You’ve wanted this, you wanted this so badly. 

“We shouldn’t.” Your mouth forms the wrong words and you curse yourself for it. Jeongin just nods at you, hands still exploring your body until they reach your breast. He cups them, squeezing a bit and running his thumbs over your hardened nipples. 

“We shouldn’t” He repeats after you, massaging your breast more intensely and pressing the prominent bulge in his sweatpants firm against your cunt. Your breath hitches and your eyes flutter shut.

“We can’t” It comes out as a moan as he leans in and sucks on the flesh on the other side of your neck. Your fingers rake through his hair and he groans at the slight tug you give. “You’re my best friend.” 

“Don’t worry about making things weird.” He whispers between kisses to the shell of your ear. “Just worry about what you want.”

He pulls away again, fox eyes staring into yours. “You’re not gonna lose me, don’t worry.” Your eyes search his for a second and you can feel your resolve breaking. 

 “Touch me.” Your voice is barely above a whisper but he heard you, he’s just going to act like he didn’t. “Say it again.”

“Touch me, Innie, please. I wan’ it.” His hand is slipping down the front of your shorts in an instant. Everything is back to being clumsy and rough, fast and desperate. He moans when the pads of his fingers run over your slick folds.

“No panties, sweetie?” His eyes roll back and he bites at his bottom lip to try to control himself. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” He hooks his fingers into the side of your shorts and starts trying to work them down your thighs. “I need you, it’s driving me mad.” 

You lift up for him and when you come back down his lips are on yours. “You’re driving me insane.” He whispers against your spit slick lips, his forehead is pressed to yours as his fingers roam your slippery cunt. He covers you in your own slick, dipping in and out of your folds and teasing your waiting hole.

“Please, no teasing, I can’t take it.” He rubs your clit, once then twice before slipping back down. “Innie, please I’ll be so good. I’ll be so good for you please just fuck me.” 

He pushes a finger into you slowly, taking in the soaked warmth that he caused. This is all because of him and his cock twitches at the thought. You moan and arch your back, your nails dig into his forearms as he moves. His rhythm is steady and unfamiliar, it makes your body sing in a way that no one else ever has.

“You’re so tight, noona. So wet.” His eyes are glued to where his finger is disappearing inside of you. He adds another, pushing in slowly before taking his previous pace. “Oh fuck, this is how it looks when you fuck yourself. When you take those toys and stuff your cunt. Shit, it’s so hot.”

You’re grinding into his hand, meeting his fingers when they fill you to the knuckle. Your tongue is poked between your teeth in an attempt to keep yourself quiet but you’ve already failed. Each thrust is met with a whining whimper that Jeongin eats up like candy. 

“Innie, Innie, c-can you curl them please? Curl your fingers inside of - holy shit, yes yes yes.” He watches your eyes roll back as your orgasm builds and builds. 

“Did you think of me?” His voice is thick with lust as he watches you. “When you made your last audio, did you think about me?” You’re shaking your head before you can even filter the question. You admit it shamelessly as you chase your high that’s dangling in front of you.

“Yes, I did I did, I thought of you.” Your orgasm rushes up your legs and blurs your vision with one more stroke of his fingers but he’s pulling out before you can ride it out. You whimper at the loss but a gasp quickly follows when you’re filled with something thicker.

“I know.” He moans, bracing himself against the cabinet behind your head as he pushes into you. “You said my name in the audio, you know that?”

He bottoms out with a groan, your cunt is spasming around him as your previous orgasm rips through you but you can already feel another one building as the first one subsides. His other hand settles at the nape of your neck and he pulls you in for a searing kiss. 

You can’t breathe being this full of him. With his tongue exploring your mouth and his cock stretching your walls. It feels like you're suffocating in the most delicious way. “Shit, your pussy takes - takes me so well.”  You can feel his control dissolving. It’s evident in the way he pants against you and how his dark eyes droop lower and lower with each unsteady pull of his hips.

“I wanna take my time with you.” He whispers against your lips. “I wanna but I can’t.” He’s whining, moaning and cursing into the air as he drags against your walls. You can’t even really hear him if you’re being honest. Between the sloppy sounds of your cunt being fucked, the rapid beating of your heart and ringing in your ears you’re completely clocked out. Utterly brain-dead. 

“Please, let me hear you. Please, I wanna know what you sound like when I fuck you.” Your voice shakes with a moan of his name as he switches his pace. His thrusts become faster and deeper, his breathing ragged, he’s doing his best to fuck you how he’s seen you fuck yourself. He’s doing his best to ruin you the same way that he imagined every time that he’d jerk his cock to your content.

 “More more more, please. Deeper, I wan’ it deeper.” His hands move to your thighs at your request and he pulls your ass to the very edge of the counter. He supports your legs on either side of him while you brace yourself against the side of the fridge. 

He pushes into you until his pelvis is flush against you. Every single thick inch of him is buried inside of you. Your pussy swells around him, squeezing him so perfectly that he lets his head fall forward with a moan. The hand that isn’t against the fridge balls the fabric of his shirt against his chest and slowly pulls it up until his torso is exposed to you. 

“Oh, fuck.” Your eyes snap shut once you feel him twitch inside of you. You let your hand run over his toned core, taking in every firm dip from under his fallen shirt. “Move, please. Please, Innie.”

“‘M gonna cum if I move.” His voice is strained as he rummages for any last bit of self control but he’s lost it all. He pulls back slowly, swirling his hips to hit every spot that you could imagine and more. Your pussy clenches around him as he sinks back in and he nearly busts at the feeling.

“I can feel you in my fucking stomach.” That’s all that you had to say to break him. That’s all that you had to say to have him pushing deeper into you then pulling back with every intention of ruining you. The only sound that you can hear is skin against skin decorated by your harmonizing moans.

 His eyes are shut tight as he moves, he’s biting his tongue, trying his best not to whine and moan like he does into his hand while watching your videos. You on the other hand are loud. You’re so fucked out and dazed that you can barely remember where you are. You couldn’t answer the first question asked to you even if you tried, the only thing that you can think of right now is Jeongin. Everything is him. Him, him, him.

“Innie ‘m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me. Gonna make me cum, fuck fuck fuck.” You scratch into his abs, leaving pretty red marks for him to remember this moment. Your head falls back as you float in the feeling of being dumb with pleasure. His hips slam into you at their own accord and you just take it. You let him fuck you just how he wants, just how you need it. 

“Cum, please cum. You feel too good. sweetie. Gonna make me cum.” His thrusts become more frantic, his movements more erratic. Your body is trembling and your mind is blank. A familiar fuzziness takes over your vision as you lose control, you welcome it. You savor it and quietly beg for more. “Cum on my cock, noona.”

He’s begging and you’re complying. Your vision blurs with a hazy white, your breathing hitches, and your body trembles with pleasure. You’re more than positive that your damn near screaming his name as he fucks you through what might be the most intense orgasm of your life. “That’s it, Thank you for your cum. Thank you.” 

His fingers dig into your thighs as his thrusts become unpredictable. He can’t take much more and he knows it. As much as he wanted to savor you he just can’t help but to get lost in the way you feel. He can swear that you were made for him. “Oh fuck, oh, fuck, I’m cumming.” With one final thrust he’s pulling out and milking his cock of thick ropes of white that settle on your inner thigh and drips down to frame your glistening cunt. 

He slumps forward, forehead resting against yours as you both pant hot and heavy satisfaction into the air. The silence is loud, almost louder than your pounding heart and racing thoughts as your eyes flutter open to meet Jeongin’s.

You stare at each other, it’s soft and almost comfortable but there’s still this looming uneasiness in your chest that makes you feel like you made a big mistake. It makes you feel like you just lost something. “Here.” He speaks first, pulling back from you to reach for the water bottle that he had earlier.

“Drink this, please.” He’s gentle as he opens the bottle and raises it to your lips. He tips your head back with a bent finger and turns the bottle up for you. “Are you okay?”

You swallow hard, panting for another second before you try nodding your head but you don’t know what to tell him. “Hey.” He grabs your attention, pulling you out of your thoughts for a second and calming you with his touch. “Everything’s alright. We didn’t ruin anything.” 

He smiles softly, pressing a soft kiss to your lips that you can’t help but melt into. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you’re just nervous to confront all of this, maybe you’re just scared to admit to yourself that you want him. You want him so badly and so much more.

He pulls back and you sigh, nodding your head with a whisper. “I’m okay.” 

“Let me clean you up and we can talk?” He starts fixing himself up and you can’t help but to snort a laugh. “I feel like we did this in reverse order.”

He smiles as he moves over to the sink. “Yeah, maybe.” The two of you laugh softly as he wets a couple of paper towels. It’s quiet again. It's comfortable. Everything will be alright.

“Your bedroom is literally right down the hall, you couldn’t fuck there?” Seungmin yells to the two of you and you freeze, Holy fuckaroni, you forgot that they were here. 

“You never even brought me my drink!” Jisung follows and Jeongin rolls his eyes and comes back over to you with the paper towels. Felix yells right after Jisung and you can’t help but to break out into laughter with Jeongin as he cleans you up. 

“Are you two not confused that they just fucked? Is it just me?.” 

Thank You For Reading! Please Reblog or Comment to let me know how you liked it! It makes my day! 💕

ALSO, please follow my back-up acct. @minniee-verse 💕

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[animatingforfun]

This was a pure joy to work on.

For the behind-the-scenes story of how I made this animated mini-short, click “keep reading” below.

I started this 6 weeks ago, just before Nintendo shut down its 3DS and WiiU servers. The server shutdown meant no more multi-player online play for 3DS games, like Mario Kart 7, but also no more uploading to the Butterfly Animation online gallery directly from the app.

As an homage to the Inchworm and Butterfly Animation apps for the DSi and 3DS that I’ve been animating on since 2011, I originally was just going to animate just a single shot featuring something butterfly related.

But the story evolved as I began asking myself a series of "what if" questions that I had fun answering, like, “what if it was a little girl playing dress up as a butterfly?” And then “what if she was first cosplaying as a caterpillar then the butterfly?” “If this is a story of growth, what if she stumbles? What is her attitude when she stumbles?” “What if the design of the girl was something like Isao Takahata or Yoichi Kotabe would draw?”

Making this was the embodiment of everything I hope to achieve with my personal animation: to let creativity flow and just have fun animating and creating.

Since this mini-short was animated on my Nintendo 3DS, there was a memory limit of only 100 drawings, which was a bit of a challenge for longer or complex actions, but was a fun puzzle to solve. Sometimes limitations force you to come up with even more creative solutions. (I was able the squeeze in more drawings than the memory allowed, and filled it to the max!) :)

The song I used is from Rebecca Sugar’s album, "Spiral Bound", and perfectly fit the theme of the short. Initially, while I was drawing the character, I found myself humming a tune from Steven Universe that dealt with beginnings, endings, and not being ready. It’s amazing how the brain can subconsciously pick the playlist!

In the end, that song, sung by Steven’s father in the show, didn’t quite fit, but then I remembered another song by Rebecca Sugar which was more on theme with my story, called “My Own Way to the End”. The whole album is wonderful! You can check it out here:

Painting the backgrounds for this was the most challenging thing for me, but also the most eye opening! After painting, I would look around at the trees in the neighborhood differently. So many colors when you really look closely.

There’s so many talented people at my work and it was great that I could ask them for advice. One person I asked was the talented Tia Kratter, who happened to teach a mini-painting class for the animators while I was working on this short. I asked her for advice on one of the background paintings and she asked great questions which challenged me to try different things, but I still felt like I was having fun and playing without fear of failure. I mean, it was still hard though! Hahaha!

If you’ve read up to this point, thank you for reading this. :) I hope you enjoy this mini-short as much as I enjoyed making it!

[sushiyuzu]

a fake relationship

nanami kento x reader

a/n: interested to read more? click here to read the book!

the school bell rings, echoing through the hallways as students spill out of classrooms, chatting, laughing, and groaning over the latest assignments. you're in no particular rush, meandering through the crowded corridor on your way to your locker. most of your friends have already left, probably heading to the café nearby or the library. but you? you have a different kind of problem to face—one that's been plaguing you all semester: math.

you open your locker with a sigh, tossing in a textbook and pulling out your crumpled math test results. a large, angry red 48/100 glares back at you from the paper, and you wince. it's the third failed math test this month. no matter how hard you try, no matter how many formulas you attempt to memorize, numbers just don't seem to click in your brain. you stuff the paper into your bag, muttering under your breath.

"great. just great."

you're not dumb—far from it. you're a pretty solid student in most subjects, but math? math is your achilles' heel. and you can already picture the conversation with your parents at dinner tonight. they've been on your case about your grades, and if they find out about another flunked exam, well... that's a disaster you're not ready to deal with.

as you slam your locker shut with more force than necessary, you catch a glimpse of nanami kento. he's standing at his locker not far from yours, his face set in that calm, unreadable expression he always wears. neat, composed, a little too perfect, really. you've never spoken more than a few words to him in class, but he's hard not to notice. he's the kind of guy who seems like he has everything figured out—top of the class, disciplined, never flustered by anything.

you're about to turn away when a shrill voice rings through the hallway.

"nanami-kun!"

a group of girls is lingering nearby, one of them stepping forward with a bright, flirtatious smile. "are you free after school? maybe we could study together?"

the girl's voice is sweet, her smile almost rehearsed, like she's done this a hundred times before. it's no secret that nanami is one of the most sought-after guys in school, and girls are always trying to get his attention.

you pause, pretending to fix your bag as you watch out of the corner of your eye, already knowing how this will go.

without even looking up from his locker, nanami replies, "i'm busy."

his voice is polite but detached, and the girl's smile falters. she quickly tries to recover. "oh, well... maybe another time?"

nanami doesn't respond, continuing to organize his books like she's not even there.

the girl fidgets awkwardly before giving up, walking back to her friends with a disappointed shrug. you can hear them whispering and giggling as they retreat down the hall. you almost feel bad for her—but at the same time, it's no surprise. nanami has this way of effortlessly deflecting attention, and yet, that only seems to make people more interested in him.

you snap out of your thoughts, turning to leave, but as you sling your bag over your shoulder, you feel a presence beside you.

"hey."

the deep, calm voice startles you, and you turn to find nanami kento standing right next to you. your heart skips a beat. you're not used to him being this close, let alone speaking to you directly.

"uh, hey?" you reply, trying not to sound as confused as you feel. why is nanami kento talking to you of all people?

he glances around briefly, then lowers his voice, his expression serious. "i need to ask you for a favor."

your eyebrows shoot up. a favor? from nanami? you're intrigued, to say the least. "what kind of favor?"

he hesitates for a moment, his eyes flicking back to the group of girls still lingering at the end of the hallway. then, with that same calm composure, he says, "i need you to pretend to be my girlfriend."

what?

for a second, you're sure you misheard him. "excuse me?"

"a fake relationship," he clarifies. "it'll be temporary."

you blink at him, completely thrown off. this was not the kind of favor you were expecting.

"okay..." you say slowly. "why would you need a fake girlfriend?"

nanami's eyes shift toward the group of girls again, the faintest hint of annoyance crossing his features. "lately, i've been getting a lot of unwanted attention," he explains, his voice low but steady. "it's distracting, and i don't have the time or interest to deal with it."

you take a second to process his words, your mind still trying to catch up. the most composed, serious guy in school needs a fake girlfriend to fend off admirers? it almost sounds ridiculous. but then again... you look at him—stoic, serious, perfectly put-together. you can see why people would constantly try to break down his walls.

"and you think this'll work?" you ask, crossing your arms skeptically.

nanami's expression doesn't change. "yes. people will lose interest once they see i'm already in a relationship."

you chew your lip, still unsure. "okay, but... why me?"

he turns his gaze to you, his eyes steady. "because you're not caught up in that drama. you're not the type to spread rumors, and you're not interested in unnecessary attention."

he has a point. you've always kept a low profile, and you don't really involve yourself in school gossip. but still...

"and what's in it for me?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

nanami doesn't hesitate. "i'll help you with whatever you need—homework, projects. you need help with math, don't you?"

your stomach flips at the mention of math. of course, nanami would know that. he's in your class, after all, and you've failed more than enough tests for it to be common knowledge by now. but still, hearing it from him—someone who probably never struggles with any subject—stings a little.

"how do you know that?" you mutter, crossing your arms defensively.

nanami raises an eyebrow, unfazed. "i've seen your test results. you're not bad in other subjects, but math is holding you back."

you're about to snap something back, but you stop yourself. he's right. you've been struggling in math all semester, and it's been dragging your grades down. if you fail one more test, your parents will lose it.

"and you're offering to tutor me?" you ask, the skepticism still clear in your voice.

nanami nods. "in exchange for this arrangement."

the offer is tempting—really tempting. it's not like you have any better ideas for improving your math grades, and having nanami, the top student, help you? that could actually save your skin. but at the same time, agreeing to a fake relationship with him? it's crazy.

you glance at nanami again. his expression is calm, composed, but there's something else in his eyes—something genuine. he's not asking for this because he wants attention or drama. he just wants peace.

after a long pause, you sigh. "fine. i'll do it."

for the first time, nanami's expression softens just a little—a flicker of relief, maybe. "thank you."

you smirk, a little more at ease now. "but if you flunk me in math, this deal is off."

nanami chuckles lightly—something you've never heard from him before. "you won't."

as you walk down the hallway together, the weight of the deal you've just made starts to sink in. you're about to dive into something completely unexpected, and who knows how this will all play out?

but one thing's for sure: your school year just got a whole lot more interesting.

[eiightysixbaby]

Okay, so, this is kind of embarrassing to type out but kind of a hot idea for a fic, too? Please delete if it makes you uncomfortable!

Last night I had a little *me time* with my vibrator and my little machine (it's like one of those things you put a dildo on and you can set the speed to whatever you want so it's like it's fucking you) and I was on my tummy and had the vibe pressed to my clit and I came soooo hard but I don't know who to imagine when I think about someone finding me like that, Eddie, Robin, or Jonathan. 🫣 Send help!

ooooomg. i mean like they would all short circuit if they witnessed that, let’s just get that out of the way. but like, i guess i can elaborate. 🤭 i chose to do robin for this one, let’s try something new!! also i made this maybe a little more cutesy flirty than downright hot, but i hope you like it 🥹

18+ only pleaseeeeee

You let out an audible sigh the second you sink down onto the silicone toy. It presses so deep, your body slowly adjusting to the intrusion.

Quite honestly, it had been a long day, and you were pent up and seeking release. With your period just around the corner, your hormones are spiking at an all-time high, and you really aren’t sure how you even survived your shift at work without combusting.

You click a button on your tiny little remote, controlling the contraption you’ve strapped the dildo to. It starts to slowly move, helping the toy undulate, mimicking the thrusts of another person. Your brows furrow, your head tipping back as you rock your hips to meet the slow and steady thrusts.

Inhaling sharply, you click on your vibrator, pressing the tip of it against your puffy clit. A moan rips its way out of you, the second toy making your pleasure even greater. You’re grateful you have your apartment to yourself, your roommate’s shift running late tonight, so you don’t have to stifle your sounds.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, tension building in the pit of your gut already, a coil ready to snap and it’s only been a couple of minutes. You work your vibrator in rhythmic circles on your sensitive bud, panting as you inch yourself closer to your first climax of the evening.

With a cry, you’re clenching around the pink dildo, zaps of pleasure coursing through your desperate body. You give yourself a moment to steady your breathing before you’re upping the speed on your little fuck toy, letting out a long, low groan as the dildo fucks you faster.

If you hadn’t been lost in bliss, you’d have heard the front door open. If there wasn’t a white-hot ringing in your ears, you’d have heard Robin call out for you. But you didn’t, and you hadn’t, and all too late your bedroom door is swinging open.

Robin’s never been great with the whole knocking thing.

Her bright blue eyes go wide, her jaw flopping open and closed like a fish out of water.

“Oh! I- uh- I’m so sorry, ohmygod—” she stammers, her face going bright red.

Your mouth falls into an ‘O’ shape, frozen at the shock of being caught. Robin’s eyes flit from your face to the toy that’s fucking you and back again, neither of you knowing what to say.

You feel your whole body heat, and for a split second the thought passes through your brain that you’re flustered because you want her to see you, not because you’re embarrassed that she did.

You don’t have the capacity to unpack that though, not when a seven-inch dildo is rocking into you and your vibrator is buzzing suddenly way too loud and Robin is now covering her eyes with her hand and awkwardly stumbling out of your room.

“Rob, wait!” you call, hurriedly shutting off your toys, slipping on an oversized sweatshirt and some underwear.

You find yourself worried — irrationally so, you can admit — that you’ll find Robin packing a bag to stay at Steve’s or something. Too traumatized to continue to live with you.

What you actually walk in on is Robin anxiously pacing the floor of her room, her face going that same shade of red when she notices you.

“I am sofuckingsorry, I did not mean to walk in on you and I also didn’t mean to stare for a second there but like, wow, that was a lot, and—”

“Rob, hey,” you interrupt, knowing she’ll ramble for god knows how long if you don’t settle her.

She stops her movements, chewing on her lip as she skittishly meets your eyes again.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful and like, locked my door or something. I thought you were working late, I did not intend for you to… see that..” you tell her, wringing your hands together. You feel feverish, that heat creeping back up your neck and flooding your face.

Because suddenly you want to ask her if she’ll touch you, if she’ll be the one to bring you to sweet release. Suddenly your stupid crush that you’ve been trying to tell yourself didn’t exist, is hitting you full-force like a freight train. Suddenly Robin is so strikingly beautiful — and she always has been — but it’s suffocating now.

“I- um,” she starts, her expression a little bit frantic as she picks her next words. “Are you… upset? That I saw you like that?”

The question shocks you, and you hesitate to answer for a moment.

“Was that so stupid to ask? I’m sorry, I am totally making this worse—”

“I wasn’t upset,” you cut her off. “I think I kind of… secretly hoped you’d walk in on me.”

Now it’s her turn to be speechless, and god, she looks so fucking cute when she doesn’t know what to say. Her eyes have gone so wide, and you can’t help but clock the way her gaze shifts to your mouth.

Maybe it’s not a big deal if you have a huge crush on your roommate, because maybe she has a crush on you, too. Maybe it’s always been this way, and you were just too stupid to see the signs.

You take a couple steps toward her, until you can feel the heat from her body radiating off of her. “Just tell me if this isn’t what you want, okay?” You ask, taking her face gently in your hands and bringing her to you, searching her eyes for approval before fully closing the distance.

She nods, a barely noticeable thing, and then you’re pressing your lips to hers. Your heart beats hard, and you wonder if hers is doing the same thing. The way she pulls away and has to literally catch her breath is confirmation that it is.

There’s a giddy type of silence, the kind that comes after new boundaries are crossed and there’s tangible tension in the air.

“Can I please touch you now?” she murmurs finally, sounding as if she’s been dying to ask that question for an eternity, if not longer. “Because watching you fuck yourself on that toy made me start sweating.”

You can’t help but giggle, and her expression lightens at your laughter.

“God, yes,” you reply. “You just edged me so hard walking in on me like that.”

She laughs, now, the nervous edge to her demeanor wearing off little by little. “Oh, poor thing,” she says, getting her footing in the situation. “I’ll have to take care of that.”

A little smirk plays on her pretty lips, and she kisses you again on the mouth before moving down to your jaw. Her hand reaches down to cup your heat through your thin underwear, and already you’re seeing stars.

She’s going to make sure you see the whole galaxy tonight.

[cyberluvzu]

I don't know if you will want to do it, but can you make headcanons of Ben Drowned? (The fanon version of him, not the canon where he is a child 💀)

I've been seeing some of your headcanons and I loved how you write !! (This is my first request, I don't even know if I'm doing it right ✋😭)

That's it have a great day <3

BEN DROWNED HEADCANONS

AJJGSKSHSK THANK YOU SM ILY. ALSO I ABSOLUTELY LOVE BEN SMSMSMSMMS. You're literally so nice I'm sobbing. I ALSO WASN'T SURE IF YOU MEANT GENERAL OR ROMANTIC HEADCANONS. YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY TOO :3 <3!!!!!! MWAH MWAH MWAHHHHHH!!!!

(I also had to edit this while it was posted bc I accidentally clicked post 😭😭)

General Headcanons

- Pothead

- LMAO SORRY

- But he would probably smoke weed here and there

- Hungry when he's high

- I also like to think that he has longer hair, just long enough to be put in a pony tail

- He mostly keeps his hair up

- Would probably dress more comfy if he's just relaxing at home

- Video game shirts, basketball shorts, sweatpants, PJ pants

- If he has to like actually get dressed for any reason he would just wear something comfortable but not exactly pajamas

- More like baggy clothes, y'know?

- Buys dumb shit with his money

- "Oh look a bag of mini plastic ducks"

- "I NEED IT"

- Likes to hack games, but when other people do it he gets mad

- He takes it as a challenge and pops through that person's screen to absolutely terrify them

- He thinks it's hilarious

- Going off of that, he LOVES to scare people

- Specifically likes when people have over the top reactions to it because he thinks it's the funniest shit ever

- Would definitely watch those 2 hour long YouTube video essays on a topic he's never heard of

- Frequently falls down YouTube rabbit holes because of it too

- Also knows random facts about obscure topics because of that

- Takes GREAT care of his PC

- It's in absolutely top notch condition

- I like to think that he's not THAT messy like some people see him as

- More of a "I'll put everything in separate piles" messy

- Surprising clean-ish room

- Loves brain rot

- In like an ironic way though

Romantic

- Let's you play with his hair

- Loves the feeling of your nails scratching his scalp

- Gives you dumb pet names

- Will absolutely call you the most cheesy, diabolical pet name and act like it's normal

- LOVESSS taking naps with you

- Like genuinely adores it

- Also really likes nose kisses

- You kiss him on the nose

- He's all yours

- ALSOOOO WOULD DEFINITELY WAKE YOU UP TO PLAY GAMES WITH YOU

- "Babe can we play Minecraft"

- "It's 3am, Ben"

- He loves you and wants to play with you

- He would definitely do most of the hard work (cheat)

- Makes sure you have the best items in games

- Loves when you wrap around him

- Big fan of hugs, especially yours

- He loves how you feel and smell

- NOT IN A WEIRD WAY 😭

- He just really likes you

- Will absolutely flirt with you in the stupidest ways possible

- Tries to pay attention to you, but if he's distracted by a game, you'll lose his full attention for a couple of hours

- He will eventually remember that he has a partner and will go bother you

- HE LOVESSS TO ANNOY YOU

- Will poke you when he wants attention or needs something from you

- Has a shit eating grin on his face the whole time

- If you get upset at him he'll fake being overdramatically upset just to make you laugh

- Loves seeing you giggle, laugh, or smile

- He would definitely let you borrow his clothes

- He thinks you're the cutest thing ever in his clothes

- Looks forward to getting into bed with you and talking about a new game he started, his day, or just about anything

- He's sweet, but can also be a complete dick

- IN LIKE A JOKING WAY

- He wouldn't really be mean to you

- Just annoying

- He's secretly hoping you kiss him to shut him up

- Would buy you and him matching jewelry

- Your name in his phone would probably be "player 1"

- Or something cheesy like that

- He loves being cringey and cheesy with you

- He's just really comfortable around you and loves you

- Sometimes he might not know how to express it because of how extreme it feels

- But he does get the point across eventually

-------------------------------------------

HELLO!!! So basically I didn't proof read this for shit 😭. BUTTTTT that's bc I accidentally hit post when I wasn't ready. BUT I HOPED Y'ALL ENJOYED, SORRY I HAVEN'T BEEN POSTING AS MUCH!!!!! MWAHHHHH!!!!

[ieatedyourcrayons]

ask for toby requests and yee shall receive

uhhh

Reader picks up a hitchhiker who happens to be Toby?

sure thing! (part 2 in progress)

Wrong hitchhiker

Ticci toby x Gn!reader

small tw for violence

As you drive down the empty road that was surrounded by nothing but trees and dirt, the sound of light rain hitting your car is the only thing keeping you awake, as you lost service a few miles ago and can’t play anything on the radio or bluetooth. Which worries you because you can’t get any updates on the killer the police are looking for.

The trees stretch high and wide, seeming to never end. Everything looks the same, except there being a few tire parts or animals on the side of the road.

You were somewhat nervous of the surroundings and situation you were in. The dark and lonely woods, the lack of service and people, and the sun approaching the horizon, About to set at any moment.

You yawn weakly as the pitter patter of rain and the sound of the tires hitting the road begins to bore you. Your grip on the steering wheel is loose and relaxed as your back is pressed against the smooth leather of the seat.

As your eyes bore on the road ahead of you, a figure stand on the side of the road in the distance. You can barely make out a face, all you see is the figure put out a hand, signaling they needed a ride.

You felt bad thinking about driving past them, it’s raining and there’s no one else out here. You sigh and slow your car down as you approach the figure. Now being able to see it’s a male with messy brown hair. He stands at an average height and has a mask covering the lower half of his face. His hoodie and jeans hang comfortably on his body.

“Hello, you need a ride?” you ask after you roll the passenger side window down.

Something about him gives off a bad vibe, like you shouldn’t be talking to him, let alone letting him in your car.

“t-that would-d be great, i-i- just need to ge-et out the woods” he says between tics.

You nod as you unlock the car, signaling to him that he can enter. He gets in the car and shuts the door before clicking his seat belt.

You begin driving again before informing him on the radio situation. “There’s no service. So we’re stuck in silence” you say with a light laugh.

The man chuckles back, “great, sounds fun” he says sarcastically, “My name is Toby by the way” He adds.

“Hello Toby, I’m Y/n.” You replied with a kind tone.

“Well, now we’re not strangers anymore” he says jokingly and with this odd tone as he stares out the front window. The tone he uses rings bells in your head. First you get a bad feeling and now this?

Toby turned his head to stare out his window, you take a few glances at him and suddenly it clicks. The radio broadcast of the police describing the potential suspect in the recent murders replays in your brain. ‘i picked up the killer..’ you think to yourself.

Your face goes pale and chills run down your spine. Your heart feels like it stops and it feels like anxiety has replaced the blood in your veins.

“W-hat-s-s the matter?” Toby ask you cautiously after he noticed your demeanor change.

Your eyes are glossed over with tears and your grip on the steering wheel is so tight that your knuckles are pale.

Toby smirks as he’s ponders if you’ve finally realized who you’ve just picked up. He lets out a soft chuckle.

His chuckle breaks you out of your trance and you bring your car to a stop on the road, you say nothing as your turn to look at him.

“It’s.. you, you’re the one..” you say, stopping yourself from finishing the sentence.

“..who killed those people?” He says, finishing your sentence without a single tic or stutter, with a stupid grin plastered on his face under the mask.

You gulp, not caring that you’re showing how scared you are, “Yeah.” you nod, confirming his question.

“I would say you are a smart one for figuring that out, but you let me in your car.. without any questions” Toby chuckles, almost manically. “Not that much of a smart one are you doll?” He ask, he’s taunting you now, knowing he has power over you.

“yeah.. you’re right. Now get. out.” You reply sternly. ignoring his taunts.

Tobys manic and laughter filled mood drops at your words. Something in him snaps. What’s stopping me from killing this one too? he thinks to himself.

He turns to face you, wide eyed as he grabs you by a chunk of your hair, and slams your head against the glass, knocking you unconscious. You had zero time to react before you fell into a painful slumber.

Toby gets out the car and walks over to the drivers side and effortlessly gets your body out the car and throws you in the back seat, your body falling onto the floor.

Toby positions himself in the drivers seat and begins driving again, heading for town, Toby thought you were dead so he planned on abandoning the car with you in it, the police or some unsuspecting person will find your body back there.

Little did he know. Why didn’t he check if you were dead? (possible part two)

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hi, do you have any advice for indecisive writers? <3 Anything in general would help, I'd love something specifically for autistic people (whose brains shut down the "decising-making centre") too if possible <3

Tips for Indecisive Writers

My number one tip for indecisive writers is to not be afraid to go "old school" and literally pick something out of a hat or roll some dice. For example, if you're deciding between three different plot ideas, you can write each one on a few folded up pieces of paper, throw them all into a bowl, mix it up, and whatever you draw is the one you go with. Or, you could say 1 and 2 are idea #1, 3 and 4 are idea #2, and 5 and six are idea #3, then roll dice. And, actually, if you type "roll dice" into Google, you can roll digital dice and you can choose up to 20-sided dice or customize your own number of sides. This is particularly helpful if you have a list of items, such as several names you're trying to decide between.

If you Google "online decision maker" you come up with a bunch of different online tools. Easy Decision Maker lets you type in a question... for example, "What should I name my character?" Then you can enter up to 26 options. When you click the "answer" button, it chooses one for you. Picker Wheel lets you put in the various options, then spin a wheel to decide.

The trouble I tend to have is sticking with whatever "fate" decides at that point, but one thing I've learned is that sometimes when my brain plays that game... where I roll a 4 meaning I go with plot idea #2, and then I'm disappointed, I know that is because some part of me knows I want to do either idea #1 or idea #3. So, even though it isn't working exactly as planned, I've still accomplished something... I've eliminated a choice. Now I can roll again, with 1 -3 being idea #1 and 4 - 6 being idea #2, and I know if I'm disappointed again with whatever I get, then the remaining choice is the one I wanted all along. For whatever reason, though, my brain can't just make that decision. It needed to go through that process to get there, and that's okay!

Now, as helpful as decision making tools can be, they're not always helpful in the moment, when you're writing and you're not really stuck between particular choices, but rather you're facing an empty void and aren't sure where to take the story next. For me, this is where pre-writing comes in really handy. I always go into a story with a beginning to end summary at the very least so I know where things are going. There's still often some decision making to be done, but I find it easier to do before I write rather than during.

When it comes to finding things to even decide between... like when you're planning your story and you come up empty on something, I find inspiration sources to be extremely helpful. For example, let's say I want to write a romantasy, and I have no idea what I want the setting to be like. That's the worst kind of indecision, because it's not like I can just type four or five locations into a decision maker and let it pick for me. I don't have a list to even pick from. So, looking at inspiration sources helps. Maybe I saw a travel show about Bavaria which really intrigued me... that could be a great inspiration location for my setting. Or, let's say I'm not sure what I want my character to look like. I might scroll through a list of up and coming actors, through the cast of a random TV show or movie, or think about actors in TV shows or movies I've recently seen. As I scan past thumbnails of head shots, when I see someone who looks like my character, I can stop and note down the name or save the photo. And with any inspiration source, if I find myself unable to decide between multiple inspiration sources... it's back to the ol' decision maker!

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[its-time-to-write]

Jamie tartt friends with benefits would be very fun! I love how you write Jamie it’s so so incredibly lovely

I wrote this bc I’m mad about old men trying to tell me how to do my job.

soft hands hit the jagged ground

It starts off as a joke, really. 

You’re both at the same party and arguing about who’s the better kisser, when suddenly your lips are on Jamie’s and neither of you are quite sure who made the first move. 

You don’t talk much, just enough to say that this competition extends to other physical activities and to order a car, so a few hours later you collapse exhausted on the bed in your flat. 

“Fuck,” Jamie gasps. 

“Fuck,” you agree. 

“We’ve got to do this again sometime,” he says, hand on his stomach as he stares up at the ceiling. 

“Give me ten minutes,” you reply. “Can’t let my twenties go to waste now, can I?”

So yeah, it’s like a thing. 

It’s not a romantic thing, that’s for sure.

It’s a “we just won a match” thing, or a “I had a shit day at work” thing, or “I need to blow off steam and can’t be bothered to pick up a stranger at the club” thing. 

No, romance does not factor in. This is strictly a friendship-type deal. 

It’s great, because neither of you actually has time for a relationship, and hookups are so hit or miss. And besides, you’ve never been extremely thrilled at the idea of some random person knowing where you live. And Jamie’s a little worried that someone will try to steal his jerseys. 

(Not worried enough, apparently, because you manage to make off with one from his Man City days.)

You both swore that neither of you would catch feelings and maybe that would have been true except for the evening Jamie called you and said, “Can I come over?” in a voice you’ve never heard before. 

You’ve barely hung up the phone when he’s knocking at your door, dressed in a suit and actual dress shoes, not trainers, hands leaving your body only for a moment to shut the door and turn the lock. 

He kisses you like he’s got all the time in the world, all slow and hungry.

He touches you almost like you’re someone else, and you’d think it’s strange except you can’t think of anything other than the fact that his body is pressed against yours and he’s holding you like it means something. 

You don’t say anything until you’re walking back to your room wrapped in a towel, water bottles in hand. 

“What was that about?” you ask, handing him his water. 

Jamie barely lifts his head. He decides not to play dumb, to be a little bit truthful. He’s not sure why, maybe because he’s still coming down and his brain doesn’t work proper. 

“Me and the lads were at a funeral today. For Ms. Welton’s dad. Made me feel all fuckin’… strange and shit. Dunno.” He takes a sip of his water and you settle in the bed next to him. 

You nod and say, “Makes sense.” It does. Funerals are fucking strange. The last one you went to had you feeling weird for a month so yeah, you get it. 

You’re both silent for a while longer when Jamie blurts out, “I told Keeley I still loved her,” and then you’re silent again, but it’s a different kind of quiet. The kind where you can practically hear the words oh shit hanging in the air. 

A couple things click into place where they probably shouldn’t, and so you take your cues from Jamie and say what’s on your mind as you blurt out, “Is that who you were thinking of?”

Jamie goes completely still, which is also strange because he’s never still. Always tapping or shifting around or something. 

“Right,” you say, far too brightly. It’s fine, after all. “I understand. Yeah, no, makes sense.”

You’re not sure what else to say after that so you kind of just sit there and wait for Jamie to move again. He does, sits up enough to grab his knickers from where he dropped them off the side of your bed, slide them on, and say, “Better get going. It’s getting late.”

“Yeah,” you say halfheartedly, suddenly very, very tired. It’s doesn’t escape your notice that Jamie doesn’t meet your eyes the entire time he collects his clothes and heads out the door. 

You manage to get up and fish a new pair of underwear from one drawer and a sleep shirt from another, and it’s not until you’re back in your bed that you realize it’s Jamie’s 51 kit. 

But you’re too tired to get up and change so you just leave it and pass out. 

—

You wake up the next morning with way too many emotions to consider, so you let yourself buy a coffee from the shop instead of making one at home. You get an extra shot of espresso to block out the great big warning bells firing in your head. 

You’re not-so-blissfully unaware of the fact that Jamie’s on the other side of town having a similar morning. One that involves going to Nelson Road early to sneak in some extra cardio so he can work off whatever feelings still linger from last night. 

For a brief moment, he considers going to Dr. Sharon. But no, there’s no need for that because it’s all straightforward, innit? He’s a little fucked from the funeral and telling Keeley he loves her, and all he needs is one more good fuck and then it’s all out of his system. 

Except whenever he thinks about your face of all body parts, his chest gets all squeezy. And worse. 

So maybe it’s not so straightforward. 

He does fucking love Keeley, right? He’d take a bullet for her, and he misses talking to her every day. He scrunches up his face and imagines kissing her, nothing too wild, and it doesn’t make his chest tighten. 

That’s a good thing. 

Right?

—

By the time you get home from work, you’ve decided that it’s fine. It’s weird that he was thinking about someone else, but it doesn’t mean anything. Honestly, you two are just messing around until one of you decides to get into a relationship. So yeah, it’s all good. It’s not like you’d date him anyway. 

You’ve been pushing away thoughts like that for years, you’re not about to let them surface now. 

—

Jamie does not particularly want to talk to Dr. Sharon about this. He wants to talk to Keeley, except last time he tried that she walked him all the way to the therapist’s office and left him there. 

He thinks maybe Ted would be good, except he’s not sure Ted would know how to deal with Jamie’s whole “friends with benefits” situation. 

Beard probably would, except his relationship with Jane is one step away from psychotic, so Jamie thinks that he’ll talk to Sam because Sam is smart and probably won’t judge him. 

It works out, actually, because he’s going over to Sam’s for a sleepover since they have an out-of-town match the next day, and need to be up early. Jamie hates waking up early so Sam promised to make sure he wouldn’t press the snooze button on his alarm. 

So yeah, now he’s in Sam’s car (a fucking Tesla, all eco-friendly and shit) and they’re talking about training and brand deals and Jamie asks if Sam’s got a girl, but Sam just blushes and says I don’t know, not anymore before turning the question on Jamie. 

Jamie sighs and puts his face in his hands. “Let’s wait till we ain’t in your fucking car, yeah? It’s too fucking long to say here.”

Sam obliges and just turns up the radio for next eight minutes it takes to get to his house. 

Jamie hauls his bag into Sam’s flat and down on the guest room floor before taking a deep fucking breath. 

Right. He can do this. 

He makes his way to the kitchen where Sam’s pulling something out of a crock pot and Jamie is a little envious of his ability to cook so well for himself. 

Sam is oblivious to Jamie’s internal monologue as he says, “Alright, this girl. Tell me about her.”’

Jamie takes another breath and then the words just come spilling out. 

“I’ve known her since we were fucking…fifteen or some shit and like, we’ve always been friends. But lately it’s been like, what’s the word, friends with benefits? Where we have sex but aren’t dating. It’s been alright, mostly, except yesterday I told Keeley I loved her and things got all fucked up in me head.”

“How so?” Sam prods encouragingly. 

“It’s like…” Jamie pauses. What is it like? “Thinking about kissing Keeley didn’t make me all tingly or nothing. Dunno, felt- wrong. But I think of her face-” he groans. “Shit, man, me heart started pounding like mad. I’ve seen her naked, and it’s her face that gets me. I mean, what the fuck is that?”

Sam’s face is doing some weird contortionist movement, trying to hide his expression, so Jamie says, “Fucking hell man, spit it out before you break something,” and Sam says, 

“I don’t think you love Keeley.”

That makes Jamie mad. Of course he loves Keeley. He’d do anything for Keeley. 

Sam must see it written in his face because he hurries on. “I don’t mean that you don’t have love for her. I mean that you do not seem to love her romantically. It would seem to me you like this other girl.”

Well shit. That’s exactly what Jamie was afraid of. Leave it to Sam to get to the heart of the problem in five minutes, only this leaves him with another problem:

He’s spent the last nine years pretending like he had only friendly feelings toward you. Innocent, like. 

He can’t let all that pretending go to waste now. 

—

You don’t see each other for a week which is fine, because you had decided way beforehand not to meet up until the next weekend. You were finishing a major project at work and he was wrapping up a killer week at training. Hence, Friday night was the night to blow off all that steam.

You’ve successfully squashed any feelings for Jamie. They’re gone, buried deep down once again and you will not let them come back up.

And yet, you’ve put on a pink set under your shirt and sweat shorts, with a little more makeup than you’d gone to work with. Maybe the whole Keeley thing is lingering in your head a little more than you thought.

Whatever. Doesn’t matter.

You grab your keys and head out the door to Jamie’s house.

—

Jamie’s already texted you to let you know the door’s open, so you slip in and turn the lock behind you. The foyer is lit with a dim glow from upstairs.

“Jamie?” you call softly, “You here?”

There’s no response, so you pad up the stairs, stopping only to drop your keys on top of the table in the hall.

“Jamie?”  you say again, peering into his bedroom. Ah. So that’s where the light’s coming from. 

Jamie jumps from where he’s been bending over a candle. “Shit, you scared me. Didn’t hear you fucking come in.”

You smile tentatively, unsure what to say. Jamie shakes out the match and crosses over to the ensuite to drop it into the sink. He comes back out again and dips you into a kiss.

He says, “Nice shirt,” with his lips still against yours, and it’s only then that you remember you’ve put on his old kit, the one you stole the second time you went home with him.

You grin and kiss him again, waiting to be on your own two feet again so you can slide a hand under his sweatshirt. Neither of you have worn anything particularly amazing because it’s what’s underneath that counts, isn’t it?

Jamie’s thinking something similar because he starts backing you up to the bed as you fumble to slip shirts over heads and pants down on the floor. He traces an appreciative palm over a pink flower appliqué, and then you push the last traces of doubt as he hooks a finger under your waistband.

—

“What’s with all the candles?” you ask, when it’s dark enough to be considered nighttime but the clock says it’s technically morning.

“Setting the mood,” Jamie replies, voice gravely and just a little bit raw.

“Hmm,” you say. “Glad you didn’t burn the house down.”

Jamie’s been pressing kisses up your bare arm and you can feel him grin at that. “Psh. I’m an adult now. I’m fuckin’ responsible.”

“Sure,” you chuckle, then shiver as Jamie’s mouth has found its way to a spot behind your ear. “You ready to go again?”

“No,” Jamie replies between kisses, “What makes you think that?”

“Just a hunch,” you say as you roll on top of him. You trace his lower lip with your thumb, and he takes that opportunity to his it. And to run his knuckles up your sides.

“Fucker,” you hiss. “That tickles.”

He smirks, a real one, with his eyes all heavy-lidded and the barest hint of his teeth gleaming in the candlelight. 

“Yeah?” he whispers. “What about this? Does this tickle?”

He actually fucking dances his fingertips up your sides as you gasp and try to get off of him. He’s not having it, because he rolls you over and continues tickling you as if you hadn’t just been fucking fifteen minutes ago. 

You’re laughing and half-heartedly pushing at him and it’s so ridiculous that you stop trying to get him away and instead press as much of your skin against his as you can. 

He’s whispering in your ear, a combination of crude jokes and compliments, the kind that makes a blush bloom from your chest all the way to the tips of your ears.

God fucking damn it, he’s going to be the death of you, but you can’t make yourself stop smiling.

He’s still murmuring in your ear and he’s saying something about how fucking gorgeous you look, how fucking beautiful you’d look on the side of the pitch with his number on or as his date to some event and how everyone would be jealous because you’re so fucking hot, but you belong with him and he’s the one who gets to see you last thing at night and first thing in the morning.

It’s so utterly ridiculous.

He’s only saying it because he’s so far gone.

It’s so. Utterly. Ridiculous.

“Jamie, we can’t date,” you say between giggles.

He pauses to ask “Why not?” and the remnants of your laughter die in your throat. Oh shit. One good look at his face tells you he’s not joking. 

“Jamie,” you say again, this time more seriously, “Jamie, we really can’t date. That’s not how this works. You’re supposed to date a model or an actress or something, and I’m supposed to date, like, an accountant. Or a lawyer.”

“Why?” Jamie asks, accent thick as it’s ever been. 

“Because,” you reply. “I’m not really the trophy-girlfriend type. And… we’ve been friends pretty much forever. It’d mess everything up when we break up.” He’s still on top of you, propping himself up on his elbows so he can see your face. You want to point out that this is a conversation that probably requires clothing, but you don’t actually want that so you stay silent.

“What if we didn’t break up?” he suggests. 

You bark out a short laugh. “It doesn’t work like that. You can’t just choose not to break up.”

“Can,” he responds.

“Can’t,” you counter. 

“Don’t be Roy Kent,” he says.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you reply. “And anyway, I’m way sexier than him. And less scratchy.”

“You fucking like when I tell you what to do,” he says. 

You make a face. “I like it when it’s sexy. This is not sexy. This is sad and stupid, and we promised we wouldn’t have this conversation.”

“You promised,” Jamie reminds you. “I just didn’t disagree.”

He’s not wrong.

“Fine,” you say, pushing him a little so he’ll get off you. 

You sit up and wrap the sheets around your chest, pulling your knees close. “You told me less than a week ago that you were still in love with Keeley, and now you want me to date you? I love you, but you’re just getting your wires crossed because we’re having sex.”

Jamie shoots up, mouth open and you realize what you just said. 

“Shit, not like that, I mean as a friend, not- not as- I don’t know, I didn’t mean to say that,” you stutter out.

“I love Keeley as a friend,” Jamie says. “Talked to Sam about it, and he says I don’t know how to tell the difference between a friend and fucking romance. He said I’m fucking in love with you, not her, and he’s fucking right.”

You’d say that sounds like the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard, except you’ve known Jamie for nine years and yeah, that sounds like something he’d do.

“Right,” you say slowly, “and you just now started feeling this way?”

He hesitates before deciding fuck it. “Nah. I think- I’ve been pretending like I didn’t since we were like, fuckin’ sixteen, probably. Didn’t want to screw it up though, did I?”

You shake your head before saying, “No, I guess not.”

“And anyway, us being together is that different from what we do now,” he continues. “Dating just means we can like, hold hands.”

You laugh and ask, “Is that the only thing that’s going to change?” but you can feel your resolve softening. Jamie can feel it too.

“Nah,” he says, feeling confident to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I can tell you that I love you. And kiss you just because. And get me mum off my back about never making a move on you.”

You say, “Hmm,” as if you’re considering it, but he knows you’ve already made your decision by the way you reach for him with both hands with a smile beginning to bloom across your face.

[fanficwritinggirl]

My prerogative (Fred Weasley)

"Love?" your eyes look up towards Fred who is standing in his pyjamas in the archway to the stairs up to the boys' dorms, his hand rubbing the sleep away from his eyes. "What are you still doing awake? Its 3am," he walks closer to you and all you can do is offer him a tired smile, you had been up for hours, you hadn't even changed out of your uniform.

"Studying, its only a few weeks until our O.W.L.s Fred, if I want to move...," Fred cuts you off.

"If you want to move onto the N.E.W.T.s you have to do well," he finishes for you. Rounding the couch, he plonks himself down next to you leaning fully against the back. "You're going to do well love," you shake your head at this.

"You don't know that, Fred. I mean I have been studying for weeks and it just seems that there is not enough time to revise all of this information. I mean if I fail an Owl then I am going to be held back," your heart was racing, you could feel tears threatening to fall.

"Oh love," Fred leans forward pulling you into his arms, your head falling into the crook of his neck, your tears now free falling. His hand rubs comforting circles on your back as you cry which now had turned into full blown sobs.

"You don't need to worry love, you'll pass," you shake your head, pulling your head away you look at him.

"But you don't know that. I'm not like you and George, I'm not someone who can just trust that everything is going to work itself out. It just seems that my brain won't shut off Freddie," Fred face scrunches up before pulling you into his arms again.

"I hate seeing you like this," he whispers to you, his own tears now threatening to fall. Fred didn't know how long he lay there with you in his arms before realising that you had fallen asleep. Fred smiled at this, thankful that you were finally getting some proper sleep. Carefully he moved the both of you so that you were sprawled on top of Fred who had now moved to lie fully down on the couch. George looks over at the roaring fire and sighs as he looks back at you. He was going to help you if it was the last thing that he did.

"Wait you want to do what?" George looked at his twin like he had three heads.

"Come on Georgie, its for Y/N. She's been really stressed out with the O.W.L.s coming up and I just want to see her smile is all. I'm not asking you to do it with me just to help out," George was shocked. He and Fred had done some silly things in the past but nothing like this, this was taking the cake.

"You are really whipped," is all George says before walking off. God this better be worth it.

You were exhausted, you could feel yourself falling asleep. "Y/N," fingers clicked in your face snapping you awake. You look over at Hermione whose eyebrows are frowned. "You were falling asleep again," you give her a small smile before taking a sip of your coffee that had now gone lukewarm.

"Have you been getting any sleep. You know what Professor McGonagall said, we need to not only be studying but getting good sleep. There is no point in showing up to the O.W.L.s falling asleep," you nod your head.

"Just feels like there is not enough time is all," Hermione nods at this, knowing what the pressure felt like better than anyone. Just as you are about to speak you hear a loud bang. You and it seems everyone else in the great hall jumps, heads turning towards the source. You were shocked when you see Fred standing on top of the Gryffindor table. Your eyes meet and Fred just gives you a smile before nodding his head towards George who is standing off to the side with what looks like a speaker.

Within seconds the start of the song starts, and you instantly recognise it. My Prerogative by Bobby Brown was one of the first muggle songs that you introduced Fred too and it was one of your personal favourites.

Fred starts dancing to the song causing everyone to start laughing and cheering him on.

Everybody talking all this stuff about me.

Why don't they just let me live?

Fred dances his way down the table, making his way towards you and you couldn't help but smirk, shaking your head. God he was an idiot, but he was your idiot.

I don't need permission to make my own decisions.

That's my prerogative.

Fred comes in front of you and you both look at each other and can't help but laugh. This was one of the most ridiculous things anyone has ever done for you. Jumping off of the table Fred pulls you into his arms. "So, what did you think love?" you laugh and shake your head.

"Ridiculous but very entertaining," Fred smirks at this and nods.

"I'll take it, if it means I get to make you laugh love," and God did your heart melt and this.

"I love you Fred," you whisper to him. Fred smiles, taking your face into his hands.

"I love you too, love" he brings his lips to yours and the room burst into cheers from everyone who was soaking up the entire situation, loving it.

"MR WEASLEY," Professor McGonagall shouts as she marches towards the pair of you. Well maybe not everyone loved it.

For all of by book readers, you will get this chapters reference.

[brbsoulnomming]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 9

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | AO3

-----

Eddie's not sure how long he's been sitting there when the sound of footsteps approaching breaks through, and he hears Steve's quiet little, "hey."

"They pick you to go check on the new guy, make sure I'm not freaking out?" Eddie asks without looking up.

"Are you freaking out?"

Eddie doesn't know. He's not sure why it's this, of all things, that has made him need to step back - he likes to think he's been handling all this Upside Down shit pretty damn well so far, aside from the running and cursing and panicking. It doesn't make sense that this is the thing that finally makes the buzzing in his chest grow too loud.

"Thank you," he says instead of answering. "You didn't - you didn't have to do that."

He thinks Steve might point out that yeah, he kind of did, that they have a world to save and they can't do that if the noble minded citizens of Hawkins are determined to hunt down a party member and thwart their efforts.

"I know," Steve says instead, and that makes Eddie look up at him.

Steve shrugs one shoulder. "None of us have to do any of this, you know? There's like, a hundred moments that every one of us could have said nah, fuck this. But we all chose to be in this, to keep going."

"Not me," Eddie says, even as his brain is telling him to shut the hell up and let the cute boy keep saying us like Eddie chose to be a part of this. Like he isn't a coward riding on all of their coattails. "I run, Steve, that's what I do. You think if I had any real choice, if I had anywhere else to go, I wouldn't be gone already?"

Steve wrinkles his nose at him. "What was it that you said Dustin was asking you to do? Come with us to Mordor? Pretty sure I heard you say yes."

"Yeah, because the Shire was burning!" he says. "Not exactly a great choice, to stay with the Hobbits and burn or follow the Fellowship into Mordor."

Steve gives him a crooked smile and a steely little gaze. "No one stays in a burning building, Eds, that's not a real comparison."

His throat works as he tries to swallow without swallowing his tongue, and he tries very hard to focus on what Steve is saying and not on exactly how Eds makes him feel.

"There's three kinds of people when somewhere's burning - there's the ones that started it, the ones trying to stop it, and the ones getting as far away from the first two as possible. You had plenty of options to be the last, but you picked the second."

"What options?" he demands, aware that he's sounding a little hysterical. "No car, no money, no where to go, cops and crazy townies looking for me, what else was I supposed to do?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah, sure, fine, when you were alone. But then you had us. You could have asked us to call your uncle to bail you out, you could have asked to be dropped off out of town, hell, you could have stolen the camper and said all right, this is your stop, see you guys later."

Eddie rears back, stung. "You think I'd do that? That I'd just take the camper and leave you guys all to it?"

Steve throws up his hands, exasperated, and Eddie feels a flare of concern when he notices the way Steve's eyes tighten in pain before he lowers them down.

"No!" Steve protests before Eddie can say anything about it. "Of course I don't, that's exactly my point! You could have left us, but you didn't. You made that choice."

Eddie's jaw snaps shut with an audible click as he realizes that he can't protest both things - can't insist that of course he never would have left them and say that he'd be gone if he had any real choice in the matter.

"Fuck you, Harrington," he says instead, aware that he sounds mulish and defensive but unable to stop himself. "It doesn't really count as options if all of them are bad."

Steve looks at him, unimpressed. "Now you're just moving the goalposts."

It's Eddie's turn to roll his eyes at that. "Stop making everything about sports."

"I will when you all stop making everything about Dungeons and Dragons," he replies without missing a beat, then drops down to sit next to him. "Give yourself a break. You're not the only one who's ever run."

Eddie snorts. "Yeah? Who?"

"Me."

Eddie turns sharply, but Steve isn't looking at him, staring out into the woods instead.

"You?" Eddie demands. "Mister I have to be the one to jump in the creepy lake to find the gate to hell for nonsense reasons?"

"They weren't nonsense," Steve protests. "And yeah, come on. I know you thought I was a douchebag before all of this, how are you surprised?"

"I never said douchebag," Eddie mutters, as if that's the point.

"I was a douchebag. So yeah, I ran." He pushes his hand through his hair. "I went to Jonathan's, when he and Nancy were trying to lure a demogorgon in to take it out. Had no idea what the fuck was going on, only that there were weapons everywhere and they were both bleeding and Nance pointed a gun at me. One of those things showed up, and they freaked, and I freaked, and they told me to get the hell out, and I did."

Eddie can't stop staring at him, and Steve has to notice, but he just keeps looking out into the woods.

"Made it as far as my car, freaking out so bad I dropped my keys, and then I looked back at the house and saw the lights flashing and I knew they were both in there, and…"

He trails off.

"And the paladin was born," Eddie murmurs.

That makes Steve look at him, finally, brows furrowed. "Come on, man, no. Dustin's been trying that, he says he's still got a sheet for one of them all worked up for me. I'm not playing any time soon."

Eddie waves a hand. "Not a character, Steve, I'm talking about real life. You're a real life paladin."

Steve lets out a little huff. "Whatever. The point is, I ran the first time, too. And I ran after - I tried to put it all behind me, to pretend like it was over and done with and we could just move on. It wasn't until later that I realized I wasn't ever going to be able to just step aside." He gives a wry little laugh, a roll of his eyes. "Not when this crew's determined to never stay on the bench."

"So you just. Always put yourself between danger and whoever it's coming for?"

Steve frowns at him. "Well, yeah. Someone's gotta protect all these little shits when they go barreling into trouble, and as long as I have a say in it, that someone's gonna be me."

Eddie groans. "You're making it really hard for me not to point out the paladin similarities, Harrington."

"Shut up," Steve says, giving him a little shove, but he doesn't sound like he actually minds it. "I'm not a - whatever."

"No? You're not a white knight, charging into battle to protect women and children and one dumbass freak in the wrong place at the wrong time?" Eddie drops out of his crouch, landing with his ass on the grass as he leans back to bat his eyelashes at Steve. "Come on, Steve, take a little credit for being our hero, you know you want to."

"You're so ridiculous." Steve rolls his eyes. "It's just better me than them."

And Eddie - he's not sure he likes that. Robin's he does this every time echoes in his mind, and his eyes narrow as he searches Steve's expression. "Fuck, is this some self sacrificial bullshit? Do you just have a death wish?"

"It's not like that. Trust me, I'm not looking to sacrifice myself, and I'm really not eager to kick the bucket before I'm twenty. It's just…"

There's no sting of writing on his skin. Eddie chooses to believe that means it's not a lie, for the sake of his own sanity, and he stays quiet while he lets Steve figure out how to explain what it's just.

"It's just when you're making a play, you have to be tactical about it, right? You have to think about your opposition, know what the other team's bringing to the game. You have to take everyone on your team into account - what are their skills and strong points, what are their weaknesses, who do you play together so they cover each other. I know what my strengths are. I know what I bring into this team and what I don't, and right now? I'm our heavy-hitter. I can dish it out, and I can take a hit better than anyone else here."

He does this every time.

Eddie wants to protest, to demand to know why it always has to be Steve, but he remembers the quiet resignation in Robin's voice, and he gets the feeling it's a conversation they've already had. Not that that would necessarily stop him from repeating it, of course, but - he doesn't really know how to counter that. Steve hadn't sounded self depreciating, hadn't sounded like he thinks he's worth less than everyone else here - though Eddie's not sure that isn't mixed in there, somewhere. He'd just… sounded practical.

Strategy. No different from when he was captain of whatever the hell sport he was playing at the time, this is what I'm good at, this is what I do.

"You're good at this, aren't you?" Eddie asks slowly.

Steve quirks a wry smile. "Good at getting beat up and still going? Yeah, I've had some practice."

Eddie shakes his head. "No, good at this. Strategizing. Thinking about people's strengths and weaknesses and how to make them work together."

"Oh. I mean, yeah, I guess I'm okay? Not strategizing like-" He waves a hand at the other side of the camper, back where Eddie assumes everyone else is still moving forward with things. "But I've always been good at the people thing. Rob likes to remind me of that, tells me to use it for good."

Like today. Eddie's throat clicks as he swallows, looking at Steve. "What would you do, against Vecna?"

Steve looks thrown, like he has no idea how this conversation got here and what he's supposed to do with it now.

Eddie knows the feeling.

"We already did the only thing I wanted to add to it," Steve says.

"Not add," Eddie says. "Forget our current plan, okay? Clean slate. New, uh. New play, new game, same opponent."

Part of Eddie wants to die a little at the words that just came out of his mouth. The bigger part wants to die even more at the begrudging realization that they could fit a campaign just as easily as they could a sports game.

But the biggest part wants to see where this is going. Wants to poke and prod at Steve, to make him think in a way that it sounds like everyone in this party except Robin has been overlooking.

It's one of his favorite things about DMing. Watching what his players come up with, nudging and encouraging them, and being absolutely gobsmacked by their creativity and strategy.

Steve actually looks like he's considering it, like he's not just brushing Eddie off. "I'd still do Nance's plan," he says finally. Then, almost reluctantly, he adds, "But I'd wait."

"You'd wait?" Eddie prompts.

"Yeah. I'd stall as long as we could. I figure the longer it goes, the more desperate - or at least irritated - Vecna gets, maybe he'll slip up, make some mistakes. But mostly I'd stall as long as we could for El."

"Who's El?"

Steve smiles, bittersweet. "El's a great kid with too much on her shoulders. But in all this? She's our real heavy-hitter. She's major league, and I'm back playing t-ball."

Eddie leans forward, starting to see the shape of things. He can see why the little shits keep using D&D terminology to explain what's going on. It's a campaign, he reminds himself, and if he keeps thinking of it like that, it's not as terrifying. "How do you stall?"

"What? El doesn't even have her powers anymore!"

Eddie startles at the interruption, heart pounding and nerves on edge - out of the corner of his eye, he sees Steve do the same, hand jerking to the ground like he's reaching for a weapon he doesn't have.

"Don't do that!" Steve demands, even as he's already relaxing.

It's Henderson, Eddie knows that before he even turns to see that he and Robin have come around to their little side of the camper - he recognizes that tone exactly from their campaigns, when the little butthead is protesting another player's plan of action.

Eddie shoots him an icy, pointed glare - also exactly the same as he would do if someone had interrupted him in the middle of a session.

Dustin glances back and forth between them, withering at the combined force of both of their unimpressed expressions. "Not that I'm saying it's a bad idea. Just! I need a little more info here, okay?"

"It's not about her powers, not exactly. It's-" Steve makes a frustrated noise, and looks over at Robin, doing something complicated with his expression.

Robin immediately takes over. "Max doesn't have powers, right? But we're letting her go up against Vecna in her mind anyway, because she's the best equipped to handle it."

Steve snaps his fingers. "Yes! El has the most experience with the lab and the Upside Down. She's got the home team advantage, and she's used to bopping around in people's minds. Her and Will would be even better. We stand a better chance with them."

Dustin's looking at Steve in a way that Eddie recognizes, just a little - a dimmer echo of the way he'd always lit up when he insisted that Steve was a badass. "Okay," he says, dropping down to sit next to them. "How would you stall?"

Steve looks back and forth between Eddie and Robin. "I'd talk to Max. See how she's feeling, how strong Vecna is, if the tape's getting weaker, how long she thinks it can last. If she can sense any changes in Vecna. We keep checking in, keep it up as long as we can, and have her try to get a message to El."

"I'm in," Max says, plopping down to wedge herself into their group.

Eddie only screams a little.

Steve looks at her, his absolutely not face already in full swing.

"Don't look at me like that, this is your plan," she tells him.

"Hypothetical! This is all hypothetical!" Steve makes a chopping motion with his hand, like he's cutting it off there. "Max, the longer we wait, the more danger you're in."

She gives him the most unimpressed look that Eddie's ever seen. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm going to be the most in danger by inviting him into my head to chase me around and hope I can hide well enough for you guys to kill him before he kills me. I'd much rather have El here for all of that, thanks."

If Eddie didn't know better, he'd think he saw the faintest wobble in her eyes, or maybe her tone.

Steve goes the softest that Eddie's ever seen him. "Maxie," he starts.

She kicks his knee before he can get more than that out.

"Hey!" he yelps. "Fine, whatever, okay, but we need everyone to agree. And you have to promise me that you'll tell us the truth about how you're feeling. We have to know any change, and I mean any change."

"I promise," she agrees easily.

Dustin, Robin, and Steve all share a glance. Eddie's - not actually sure how they manage it, but it makes Max huff in irritation.

"I promise. You can even use stalker as a lie detector." She jerks her head back towards the other side of the camper. There's a moment of silence, then she rolls her eyes. "I don't care if Munson knows who my soulmates are."

Soulmates, plural, and she already knows who they are? Eddie's stomach clenches a little, wondering once again what these kids have gone through that was so intense that Max'd found her soulmates before she even hit high school.

"So how do I send a message to El?" Max asks.

Steve rubs a hand over his jaw, pinching the bridge of his nose. "All right, let's get everyone back together, then."

They catch Nancy, Lucas, and Erica up in quick, terse sentences - Nancy looks irritated at the suggestion of delaying the plan, and Lucas keeps shooting little worried glances at Max, like he wants to protest, too, but knows Max well enough to know it won't do much if she's set her mind to it.

"I promise to let you guys know the second there's any change, and to answer any question you ask about it directly and immediately," Max dutifully repeats after some prompting.

Only then does Lucas relax.

"Come on, Steve, how do I get a message to El?" she asks again.

Steve quirks a little smile. "You tell us a lie."

There's a second before Eddie figures out what he's saying, and then he's pretty sure he stops breathing.

"You say something like 'I don't want to tell my soulmate that an evil clock obsessed wizard is out to get me, and I don't want her and her brothers to get their asses back to Hawkins immediately.'"

Dimly, Eddie hears a round of sharp inhales, and he's pretty sure he's not the only one staring at Steve anymore.

"Holy shit, Steve," Dustin says, sounding impressed.

"You sure that'll work?" Nancy asks.

"Yeah," Steve says. "I used to do it with my soulmate all the time when we were younger, so, uh. Technically you can thank them for the idea."

It's him, fuck. It has to be. His soulmate has to be Steve, there's no other -

"Yeah," Robin agrees, spreading her hands like me too.

And all right, okay, so Eddie wasn't the only one to think of trying to talk to his soulmate like that, he kind of figured that. But this is still way too many coincidences, shit, there's no way his soulmate isn't Steve goddamn Harrington, and what is he supposed to do with that?

Still, at least Robin solved his problem of how to agree with Steve without making it obvious that he might be Steve's soulmate.

"Me too," he manages to say. "It'll work."

Max nods, jaw working as she thinks for a moment - then her gaze shoots over to Lucas. He scoots over to sit next to her, and she barely has time to look back at Steve before Steve's dropped down to sit in front of her. Dustin takes up a spot on her other side at the same time, and she lets out a slow exhale.

The three of them were with her when she - when Vecna tried to get to her, Eddie remembers, and he fidgets with his rings to hide the way his hands shake as he tries not to think of how Chrissy'd looked right before she died.

"It helps if you're having a conversation with someone, and you think about your phrasing and say things you know are lies," Steve offers.

Exactly like Eddie'd pictured his soulmate doing. Yeah, fuck, okay, that's a great way to think about something else, but not something he really wants to think about, either.

"So, Mad Max!" Dustin says brightly. "How's your day going?"

"I'm not in danger," Max responds, which - blunt, yup, that should do it, even if it makes Eddie wince.

"Yeah, what's there to be in danger from?" Lucas asks.

"I'm not being targeted by something from the Upside Down."

"That's good, because how would we stop something like that?" Steve chimes in.

"We don't think we know his plan," Max says, then her eyes close. "I don't need my soulmates. I don't want El to come back to me, right now."

They all pretend they don't hear the tremor of emotion in her voice.

There's a tense silence for a little while.

"It took a little while for me to be able to respond, if I wasn't expecting it," Robin says, low and anxious. "I mean - I didn't respond much, because it freaked me out, but when I did."

"Same," Eddie says. "I sprung it on mine probably too much, and I usually didn't get an answer right away."

He doesn't look at Steve. Then he realizes - shit, he can't make it obvious he's not looking at Steve, so he darts his gaze over to him.

Steve only has eyes for Max, though, and Eddie feels a little bit relieved.

Eventually, Max jolts, and rolls down her sock. Scrawled across her ankle is I don't have my powers back. I don't think my soulmate should wait. I'm not coming.

So they wait.

Taglist (hopefully I got everyone, and always happy to add more!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @affablevixen @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

-----

Part 10

[psychologicalwarclaire]

mikey 31?

idk what direction this would go

Mikey + Gun Violence

Mikey had seen plenty of fake guns. Jupiter Jim Ray guns, obnoxious bad buy Lou Jitsu guns, even Donnie's outrageous laser guns.

He'd never seen a real one.

And he'd certainly never had one pointed at his head.

The depths of the barrel were infinitely dark and the metal outsides gleamed like the Shredder's armor.

"You get that away from him," Leo growled at the woman who held it.

The woman nodded at one of the goons that stood at Leo's shoulders. There was a dull crunch and he grunted in pain, sucking in a sharp breath.

"You really are in no position to make demands, here," the woman replied in a perfectly even voice. "You will tell me where the other one is, or the small is going to be more red than orange."

"There is no other one," Mikey managed, his voice shaking. "It's only us two."

She wacked the butt of the gun against Mikey's head and he cried out. Leo made a noise deep in his throat.

"Don't lie to me," she hissed. "I know neither of you are smart enough to hack my company's accounts. There is at least one more. And you are going to tell me where he is."

Click.

The cold cold cold cold metal barrel rested against Mikey's shell.

"...Or we'll see just how bulletproof this freak's shell is."

Mikey's wide eyes met Leo's wider ones. Mikey shook his head a fraction of an inch. Leo's face twisted, mind whirring behind his eyes.

Something warm was trickling down the side of Mikey's face. His skull throbbed where she'd struck him.

"He's-- he's--" panicking, Leo was either struggling to think of a lie, or making himself tell the truth. He squeezed his eyes shut, sagging. "I can take you to him."

"Leo, don't!"

The woman's face twisted in a horrible grin. "Great. Take me to the little thief." Her cold gaze flicked down to Mikey. "But let us lose the... dead weight."

There was one heartbeat--

One singular heartbeat--

And then--

She fired.

It was louder than he'd ever expected. The BANG went through both of his ears like a spike through his brain.

But that was nothing

NOTHING

compared to the immediate, visceral, all-consuming agony that exploded across his shell, into his shell, through his shell, through him.

He couldn't even scream.

He just slumped forward against the asphalt.

Leo's scream, however, ripped through the air, long and drawn out.

As horrible pain ripped through him, Mikey slowly realized that he was not dead. His whole shell and shoulder felt like they'd been blasted to pieces. But he wasn't dead.

Distantly, Leo was still screaming. The lady was saying something. Her foot nudged his shoulder. Icy needles seemed to burn through it.

A small and pitiful sound escaped his mouth. It wouldn't stop.

Leo sobbed in relief.

"See? He's still alive. I don't know for how long, but be assured I was merciful in my aiming." Her voice was fading.

Mikey forced his eyes open. Everything was blurry. He could see a dark stain spreading across the ground. Had she shot his upper shell and the bullet had gone through his shoulder?

The thought was terrifying.

The goons were dragging Leo away. Kicking and screaming, Leo struggled in their grip. Mikey's name fell from his lips like tears from his eyes.

"HOLD ON, MIKEY! JUST HOLD ON!"

And then they were all gone.

No one left to hear the pitiful whimpers of the bleeding boxshell.

[musings-of-a-rose]

I Never Stopped Loving You

I Never Stopped Loving You

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC “Catie”

Word Count: 7700+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes:  @theewokingdead is such an enabler and I love her for it! This is 100% her idea (I’ll post it at the end). I’m just doing the words!

And yes, this is my first OFC character! 

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

Main Masterlist

Joel Miller Masterlist

I Never Stopped Loving You Part 2>>

September 26th, 2013

2 pink lines.

2 little pink lines that will change the entire course of my life from here on out. Not just my life, but his life too.

Joel.

It’s not like we just started dating. It’s been a couple of years, but we hadn’t really brought up the idea of adding another child alongside his Sarah. And yet, here I am, staring down in disbelief at these 2 little pink lines, memories of the night that caused this from a couple weeks ago flashing before my eyes briefly before my brain starts to spiral.

Would he be happy? Mad? Leave me? Feel obligated to marry me? How will Sarah feel?

Before I can spiral more, my phone springs to life, it’s ring loud in my tiny bathroom as it vibrates across the counter. I knew from the ring it was him, but what I didn’t expect was Joel to sound so tired and frustrated.

“Hey baby.”

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Is that contractor being a dick again?”

He chuckles, low and deep. “How’d you guess?”

“He’s been giving you shit for weeks. I don’t know how you deal with it.”

“Because I need the money. But I’m starting to think it may not be worth it to keep my mouth shut.”

He launches into a story about his day from hell, how the contractor is making everything take 10 times as long as it should. When he finishes, he takes a deep sigh before speaking again.

“You able to check on Sarah?”

“Yeah. She’s doing fine. Ordered a pizza. Sorry I couldn’t hang with her.”

“It’s alright. You feelin’ any better, sweetheart?”

I could tell him now, tell him that my secret suspicion of my nausea over the last several days has been confirmed, but I don’t want to tell him like this. Not over the phone, not when he’s exhausted and frustrated. I’ll tell him when I see him next.

“A little.”

A beep sounds and Joel pauses. “That’s Tommy. I’ll call him back later.”

“No, no. It’s ok, answer it. Just go home and get some sleep.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. See you tomorrow?”

“Definitely, sweetheart. Feel better.”

I feel guilty for not telling him right away, but the timing just isn’t right. Besides, this gives me some time to wrap my own head around it and figure out exactly how to tell him.

—----

Waiting was not a great idea.

I had fallen asleep at some point, but I was woken up by…is that screaming? Something is happening outside and it doesn’t sound good. 

Creeping up to the window, I pull the curtains back just enough to peek outside. People are moving about the street, but something isn’t right. They’re all running from Mr. Stevens, my neighbor from several houses down. He’s running after them, but it’s not normal. No…not human. He leaps forward, jumping onto the nearest person and…shit!

I run back to my nightstand and grab my phone. The first few times I try to get a call out, it’s a busy signal. Whether the lines are cut or busy is beyond me, but I have to keep trying. My fingers tremble as I use speed dial to try to get Joel. The phone slips from my hand and clatters to the floor.

“Shit!”

I bend down and pick it up, hitting the green call button and miraculously, the call goes through. My breathing speeds up, I feel like my heart is about to pound out of my chest. I’ve never needed a call to go through more than now-

“Catie?”

“Joel?”

“Thank God. Listen, somethin’ is happening. Something with the people-”

“I know. I saw the neighbor-”

“Stay away from them-.....not right-....Sarah and I-.....”

“Joel?” The line keeps breaking up, static cutting out more than half of whatever he was trying to tell me.

“....just stay put….no lights….there soon…”

“I- ok. I’ll stay here.”

“Love you, sweethea-”

The phone cuts off and the connection dies with it. I pull the phone away from my ear and look down at the screen. My phone still has battery but over the service bars is an X. Guess they either cut the service or something happened at a tower. Either way, it’s not good. 

I stay there a moment longer until more screams and glass breaking from across the street somewhere bring me harshly back to reality. I click my lamp off and head into my closet, finding the new hiking backpack I’d bought a couple weeks ago with Joel, who planned to take Sarah and I hiking soon. Be smart, Catie. It’s just like camping. What do I need realistically?

I’m no stranger to traveling, so I roll all my clothes, putting on a 3rd pair of jeans and a shirt, making sure to pack and wear thicker socks that will last longer. I also toss in a bar of soap, my waterproof matches and firestarter, some salves I had just finished making last week, and some other random items. The pack isn’t too heavy, which I’m grateful for. I grab one of Joel’s flannels and throw it on over my clothes before hoisting the backpack over one shoulder. 

Quietly, I creep downstairs, ears straining to hear anything out of place. I hear nothing - well, nothing aside from the ominous noises from outside. I’m so glad that I have curtains all around my house, never wanting people to see in, especially at night. I fill my canteen with water and grab a bunch of high protein, portable snacks, tossing them in my bag and strapping the water to the side. I make up another canteen to add to the other side to balance the weight. Plus, having extra water wasn’t a bad thing. Right?

I kept my phone on me in case Joel managed to get through again. I pull it out to see if anything had changed, but nothing. It’s been at least 20 minutes since I spoke to him, but even if he had left his home right at that moment, it would still be another 5 or so minutes before he’d get here. And I’m sure he’s running into obstacles outside. 

When it hits the hour mark, I become officially worried. 

I know he told me to stay put, but the screams outside are lessening, which can only mean one thing. I’m not waiting around for it to be my turn.

Grabbing a pen, I scribble a quick note telling Joel to meet me at the cabin, my parent’s cabin that they had given me to use with Joel and Sarah. It’s out in the middle of nowhere but it’s self sustainable and the perfect place to hideout from…whatever is happening. 

I leave the note in a conspicuous place, hoping that he’ll be able to see it. I check the knives I stored in my boot and one in a leg strap on my thigh. Initially a gag gift from my brother when I started hiking more, I learned how to use them a little, just in case. Otherwise, I have my bow-my bow!

Quickly, I head into my office closet and grab my bow and quiver of arrows, making sure I have the proper attachments for attaching them to my backpack. I pick up my keys, fingers trembling and I nearly drop them. 

Then my sliding door crashes open, glass shattering everywhere, inhuman noises coming from whatever fell through it.

I don’t even bother to look, throwing open the front door and slamming it behind me, eyes scanning the yard for any threats. Thank God I have a keyless entry, the car unlocking for me and I throw my bag and bow in as I slide in the seat of my suv, slamming the door shut behind me. I fumble with the keys, trying to jam them in the ignition when I hear my front door slam against the ground. I manage to jam the key in and the engine turns over. I backup quickly out of my driveway and peel off down the street as Mr. Stevens comes out of my house, moving towards my car but quickly giving up as I drive away. 

I make it about 10 blocks when I see her. My neighborhood friend Lucia, running for her life from…something who used to be a someone. No hesitation, I turn my suv, slamming into the something and sending it flying. Lucia turns and sees me, eyes wide with fear as she runs towards me as I beckon her to get in. She throws open the passenger door and screams at me to go before she even closes it behind her. I do, speeding off down the road and somehow managing to get out of the nieghborhood without road blocks or hitting anything else.

For now, I’m ignoring what I see and focusing on getting us out. 

Lucia says nothing, eyes scanning the road and looking behind us to make sure everything is clear. By the grace of a higher power, we manage to make it to the back highway that will eventually bring us to my parent’s cabin. Or my cabin now, I guess. 

“Luce, are you ok?”

Lucia is breathing heavy but she nods, turning her head towards me as she starts to relax slightly. “Thank you for stopping. I..I wouldn’t have made it otherwise.”

“I’m just glad I could help.”

A few moments of silence pass between us before I speak again.

“Are you hurt or..or bit? I don’t..I don’t know what-”

“No. I don’t know how but no.”

“What are they?”

Lucia takes a shaking breath and I can hear her trying to hold back tears. “I..I don’t know. They aren’t…they were people but now?”

“Yeah that’s pretty much all I saw too…oh is there anywhere I need to go or drive by for you?”

She looks away from me quickly. “I uh…no.”

“Where’s your brother?”

She was quiet for a moment. “He left on his business trip a day ago.”

Right. Japan or something.

I reach over and squeeze her hand, feeling us both shaking. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

More silence.

“What about Joel? And Sarah?”

“I uh…I was waiting for them but… I left a note telling them where to meet me.”

“Oh. I’m sure they’re fine.”

We drive for a little bit longer, Lucia messing with the radio to try and find anything that was playing. It was all just static. I take the exit I need and clear my throat.

“I’m pregnant.”

Lucia’s head snaps towards me. “You’re what?”

I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Great timing, huh?”

“Does Joel know?”

A sob jumps out of my throat, one I didn’t know I had. “No. I..he had a hard day at work and I figured I’d tell him tomorrow…”

“Oh, Cat. It’s ok. He…he’ll find you for sure. I know it. Buuut…until then, you have me! Wait, did you pick me up just because I’m a midwife?” I can hear the smile in her words, but she’s still not 100% certain.

“I picked you up because you needed help. And you didn’t look injured.” She laughs at my admission. 

“I love your honesty, Cat.”

We chat about the pregnancy the entire way, only quieting when we reach the long, hidden drive to my cabin. We do a quick perimeter check, inside and out. Nothing and no one. The closest neighbors we have are literally miles away. We have more chances of seeing a bear than another person. 

Lucia helps me unload the few things I have in the car and heads inside. We take a quick stock of all pantry items and I’m thankful that Sarah and I did so much canning the last time we were here. She had gotten slightly obsessed with the idea and was looking forward to eating it when they were ready. Water wouldn’t be an issue either as we have our own private well, no need for electricity. Which is good because that doesn’t work without the generator and we are not turning that on. It’s too noisy and would attract trouble.

Lucia and I have a low key dinner of beef sticks and some dried vegetables, chatting with each other to try and lighten the dark cloud that has crept over the world. She heads off to one of the bedrooms and I head off to mine, the one I share with Joel. Once I’m finally able to collapse in the bed, I allow myself a moment to cry, worrying about Joel and Sarah and the baby that’s currently growing inside of me. I still have hope they’ll make their way here. I have to or I’ll crumble into bits and float away on the wind.

—----

20 years later…

Lucia and I stayed in the cabin for nearly 10 years. She helped me safely bring my daughter Penelope, or “Poppy”, earthside. We raised her in the cabin, teaching her everything she needed to know about survival and life, despite her young age. This is how life is now. She’s still allowed to have kid time of course, which is why there are murals painted on nearly every corner of the cabin. 

About 10 years in, Lucia, who had never given up on finding someone or a transmission on either the radio or the ham radio, finally found one talking about a settlement in Jackson, Wyoming. It would take us nearly a month to get there, let alone the danger we’d be in. The suv would never make it, having given out years ago, but luckily we had managed to make a small farm for us and that included a few horses and a couple that could pull a wagon or 2. After gathering up all the information we could on Jackson, we determined it must be a real place and put it to a vote with all of us. After the winter snows melted, we left for Jackson, packing up our entire lives, or what we could anyway, and plotting out the safest route possible. It would take us about a month, especially with the detours we were taking, but they were necessary to avoid the areas that would most likely have bandits. Or worse.

The last thing I did before I closed the door was to write a letter to Joel and Sarah, telling them where we were going. Even 10 years later, I had not given up on them.

—----

A month later, we arrived in Jackson, a few more scrapes and bruises to our name, but luckily, we hadn’t run into too much trouble.

Lucia got work right away, considering her background as an official midwife. I was hired to help with the gardening because of my immensely green thumb and knowledge of herbs, and Poppy was allowed to help with the livestock we brought, after school was done for the day. Poppy was beside herself with the idea of going to actual school, even though she knew most of what they were teaching anyway. 

We all settled nicely, Lucia falling in love with a nice man on the other side of town, eventually moving in with him and starting a family of their own. Poppy made a ton of friends, finally allowed the freedom to be a kid for more than a couple of hours. 

As for me? 

I never really dated anyone, my heart given to Joel a long time ago. I know the likelihood of seeing him again is extremely slim, but I still have a tiny sliver of hope that he’s around. And maybe he’s heard about Jackson and will head this way. Which didn’t impact my decision to come here. Nope. Not at all. 

But the biggest surprise that Jackson held for us was Tommy, Joel’s brother. He was married to Maria, the woman who started this community with her father, and lived on the farm where they kept the horses. Poppy and he got along right away, her begging for more stories about her dad and he would pretend to be annoyed but would give in every single time. She continued this ritual as she grew, eventually bringing her boyfriends with her, searching for Tommy’s approval, just like a father.

One beautiful fall day, I’m walking through the market, trading for new produce and supplies when I hear some people gossiping over lemonade at the small eatery in town. I tend to ignore gossip, never having been one for it, until the phrase “Tommy Miller’s brother” reaches my ear. I freeze, listening intently on their words, but I’m only able to make out that he was here in town. 

Joel was here. In Jackson.  Joel. 

I turn, marching towards the small group of people that were doing the gossiping when I heart the alert - bandits were attempting to attack the dam. Growling out in frustration, I turn to run towards that side of town, slinging the rifle from around my back once I assumed my nearly hidden position on the wall. We make quick work of the bandits, especially since we are heavily fortified and secured. That doesn’t stop them from trying, though. 

Once the attack is over, I search the throngs of people for Tommy, just spotting him getting on his horse and heading home. Cursing, I turn, heading towards Tommy’s house on foot, my mind now completely on Joel since the bandit attack was over. Was he still in town? Does he know I’m here? Does he know he has a daughter?

I arrive at the farm and immediately head for the barn, knowing Tommy would still be tending to his horse. Sure enough, he had just finished putting her away, locking the gate behind him.

“Tommy!”

He sighs and doesn’t look at me right away. Which tells me he knows exactly why I’m here.

“Hey, Catie.”

“Is he here?” I’m standing just a couple feet from him, arms crossed and my foot tapping slightly with nerves.

“Who?”

“Fuck you, Tommy. You know who.”

“I-”

“Tell me the truth.”

He meets my gaze for a moment before nodding. “He was.”

He was here. Joel was here, in Jackson, alive and I didn’t- wait. Did he say was?

I swallow hard, willing my tears to just wait until I’m by myself. “Is he ok?”

“Yeah. Well, I mean as much ok as we all are.”

I let out a breath of relief. He was ok. Probably a little worse for wear but he was ok.

“Did…did you tell him I’m here?”

Tommy studies me for several moments, his dark eyes bouncing between mine, as if he’s debating with himself. “I…did.”

He knows I’m here. Joel knows I’m here, alive and well and he just-

Oh. 

Of course. It’s been nearly 20 years and it would be ridiculous to think the man still loved me after all this time. He didn’t even know I was still alive. He’d never even met his daughter. If he no longer cared about me, fine. But why wouldn’t he want to meet his daughter? Unless…

“Did you tell him about Poppy?”

Tommy’s entire stance is apologetic and I know his reply before his lips even part. “No.”

“What the fuck, Tommy?”

He puts his hands up in a calming manner. “It shouldn’t come from me.”

“Fuck you, Tommy! He doesn’t even know he has another daughter. He deserves to know-”

“You’re right, he does. But not from me-”

“I can’t fucking believe this. It’s been 20 years, Tommy. 20 years and he didn’t even stop to say hi? Maybe if you’d have told him about Poppy, he’d at least stayed long enough to see her.”

I poke him in the chest as hard as I can. “It’s your fault he left!”

Tommy grabs my wrist and pulls me closer, his voice lowering to just above a whisper. “He had other things to take care of.”

“What could be more important than family?”

“All of humanity.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“He had a girl with him. Maybe…14? 15?”

My heart sinks. Did he have another daughter after the clickers came? As if he could read my mind, Tommy shakes his head.

“Not his. Her name is Ellie and she’s….special.”

“That’s disgusting, Tommy.”

He gives me a look. “She was bit.”

“Bit? And you let her into Jackson?”

“And she hadn’t turned.”

I could feel my eyes grow wide. Bit? Without turning? That’s impossible.

“How do you -”

“Saw the bite myself. I’ve seen enough of ‘em to know what they look like. It’s legit.”

“Fuck,” I whisper. This is huge. Definitely bigger than me.

“Yeah… anyway, he was takin’ Ellie to the Fireflies because they can supposedly make a cure out of her blood. Or that’s the hope anyway.”

“A cure?”

“Yup. This whole mess could be put behind us.”

This…this is life changing. World changing. My 20 year long devotion to a man I was deeply in love with paled in comparison to a cure for the clickers. Tommy told me Joel still had a long way to go, but if anyone could make it, he could. 

“ ‘m sorry, Cat. I wish he could’ve stayed to say hi.”

“Did…did he say anything about me?” I hate how needy I sound.

“Honestly, we didn’t really talk about you other than me mentioning you were here. The focus was Ellie.”

I nod. The focus was on the right thing.

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I doubt it. It’s a long trek and pretty dangerous. He’d be smart to just stay put, especially to take care of Ellie.”

I left the barn and headed straight home. Poppy was out with her boyfriend so I had the whole place to myself. Which gave me plenty of alone time to cry and, for the first time in 20 years, try to move on from the dream I had about starting a little family with a man I never stopped loving.

—----

Spring in Jackson is always beautiful. The colors come alive, blooming from every surface they can for miles in greeting the season change. It’s also the perfect time to start planting certain crops so they’ll be ready when it comes harvest season. 

I’ve finished planting in the community garden, dirt crusted under my fingernails despite my scrubbing at the garden sink. I’ll be able to use a brush at home, but for now, I smile at the grime on my clothes. It means Jackson will have food and enough to last through winter. 

Taking off my apron, I toss it into the laundry basket to be cleaned and head towards the home I share with Poppy. She doesn’t spend as much time there these days, but I can hardly blame her. She is 20 and in a pretty serious relationship. I would not be surprised if the boy popped the question any day now. 

I turn onto Main Street and Mrs. NoseyPants stops me. I know it’s not her real name but it fits her better.

“Catie! How are the crops going? Jackson going to survive?”

“Mmhhmm. We should be great.” I try to step around her, but she blocks my path.

“How’s that daughter of yours? Still getting on with the Miller boy?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I hope he makes an honest woman of her before something happens.”

“Something happens?”

She looks around, as if she expects anyone to actually give a fuck about what we’re saying. “Yes. Like an out of wedlock child.”

I plaster on a fake smile. “Oh yeah. That would be terrible, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t like your tone, Catie.”

I open my mouth to offer some sarcastic retort about not really giving a rat’s ass what she thought of my tone, but my gaze moves over her shoulder and the crowd parts just enough for me to see him.

Joel. 

Unmistakably him, despite what the last 20 years has put on his shoulders. His back is to me, but his head is turned to the side, looking at all of the houses and buildings that line Main Street. Fuck he’s still handsome.

“Are you listening to me, Catie?”

I blink but don’t take my eyes off Joel, afraid he’d disappear if I did. “Full offense Mrs. Bennett, but I don’t have time to listen to your outdated and hateful words. Have a nice day.”

I know her jaw has dropped as I scoot around her, and I know I’ll probably pay for that later, but I couldn’t care less. My eyes are fixed on him as he walks slowly, eyes still moving from house to to house, taking it all in. I’m only several feet away before someone literally walks into him, dropping the giant stack of boxes they had been carrying.

“I am so sorry sir!”

The young man stoops to try and gather up the boxes and Joel turns to face him, bending to help him gather them up and reassemble them in his arms. “Don’t worry about it.”

The boy nods and takes off. Joel’s eyes follow him, making sure he doesn’t drop them again when his gaze meets mine. Those dark eyes move right into recognition and shock, blowing wide as it finally sets in who he’s looking at. 

I hesitate only a moment before I move towards him, nearly running and shoving a few people out of my way. And suddenly, I’m standing in front of him, all 5’11 and broad shouldered, just as he had been 20 years ago. More lines adorn his face, and several scars, his hair is speckled and streaked with greys, but somehow it makes him all the more attractive. My breath catches in my throat and I find myself speechless in front of the man I would’ve given anything to speak to for 20 years.

“Catie?” He chokes out my name, eyes scanning mine as if he was waiting for me to say he was mistaken. That I wasn’t who he thought I was.

A quick sob escapes me as I nod frantically. “It’s me.”

His hand, large and warm just as it always has been, comes up to cup my face, his thumb tracing my cheek, as if touching me was proving to him that I was real. And then he pulls me into his chest, hugging on to me tight, like I would disappear from his grip if he didn’t. I hug him back, crying into his broad chest, unable to believe that I was finally, finally, holding onto him. 

He pushes me back slightly, only to look at my face. “You’re…you’re alive.”

I chuckle through my tears. “And so are you. I thought Tommy told you I was here?”

He nods, his dark eyes still on my face. “I thought he was makin’ shit up to try and keep me here.”

“Well that does sound like Tommy.”

Joel chuckles deeply and it sends a jolt through my body. God how I missed that sound. 

“He told me you lived down this way.”

I cock my head to the side. “Were..were you looking for me?”

Pink blooms across his cheeks as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “I had to see if he was full of shit.”

“Fair point.”

We stand there, in the middle of the street just staring at each other for several minutes before I blink back to reality.

“Are you hungry? I was heading home to make something to eat and shower. I…if you want to join me?”

His eyes darken briefly and I realize too late what I said. 

“I’d love to. But…”

He’s struggling with words.

“..but… what?”

He clears his throat, looking away from me for the first time. “Wouldn’t your uh…husband or boy friend or whatever be upset?”

Smiling up at him, I shake my head. “I don’t have either of those.”

His shoulder seem to slacken in relief. “Oh. ‘m sorry.”

“I’m not.”

The corners of his mouth tick upwards in a small grin and I feel like my insides are melting through my skin. How can this man still get me going after 20 years?

“Lead the way.”

I gesture down the street in the direction we’d have to go to get to my place. We don’t say much, Joel still taking in Jackson but always having one eye on me. I know we’re about to have a difficult conversation. How will he feel about Poppy? About how our life turned out? Or his? Tommy had told me about Sarah when I first came to Jackson. The hardness behind his eyes shows that he’s still dealing with the grief and I imagine he always will. It’s no easy thing to lose a child. 

We arrive at my house and I unlock the door, heading inside and flipping on a light.

“You have power?” He asks.

“Mmhmm. Tommy was able to hook up a generator of sorts to the power grid. It’s heavily guarded and taken care of so no one has messed with it. He’s been talking about trying to use water or wind energy, but we need someone who knows that.”

I kick off my boots and Joel copies me, setting his down next to mine. 

“Poppy? You home?” I call out, not wanting her to walk in the middle of whatever was about to take place. When I receive no reply after a few calls of her name, I shrug my shoulders in a ‘guess she’s not home’ way.

“Who’s Poppy?”

“You thirsty?” I head towards the kitchen and Joel follows, watching as I take out a pitcher of lemonade. “I also have beer. It’s…not the greatest but it’s something.”

“You make the best lemonade. I’ve been dreaming of it for years.”

I smile, turning to grab 2 glasses and putting some ice in each of them before adding the lemonade. I hand Joel his glass and his fingers briefly brush against mine. They’re rougher than before but not by much, and the jolt this light touch sends through is just as strong as it was 20 years ago.

I head back to the living area and sit on the couch, taking a sip while I motion for him to sit as well. He does, taking his own sip and I catch a nearly imperceivable moan at the back of his throat when he tastes the lemonade. I quickly shove my legs together, hoping he doesn’t notice. I try to cover by setting my glass on the coffee table and he copies me, wiping his hand on his jeans as he settles back, his body slightly shifted towards mine. 

“Is Poppy your uh…girlfriend?”

I laugh this time, not at the idea of me having a girlfriend but at the look on his face while saying it. “No. No she’s-” time to tell him what you should have all those years ago “- my daughter.”

Joel nods, his eyes looking down at his hands and his shoulder slump slightly as if sad. “You- you said you didn’t have anyone.”

“I don’t.”

A knowing look passes over his eyes. “Oh. ‘m sorry for your loss.”

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. “My loss? No, Joel. Poppy is 20.”

“20…what?”

“20 years old.”

It’s his turn to look confused, as if math was passing over his vision. “She’s…20?”

“Yes.”

“So…that…that would mean when…you…” He shifts nervously in his spot on the couch, another swipe of his palms across his jean clad legs.

“Is…is she…”

“Do you remember that night? You had called me, telling me about that pain in the ass contractor you had to work with?”

Joel nods, his eyes glazed over in memory. “Yeah. I called to check on you because you couldn’t stop throwing…up…” His eyes snap to mine, and to my surprise, they were full of hope.

“I told myself it wasn’t the right time to tell you. But how the fuck would I have known that the world would end?” I chuckle nervously, fumbling as I reach got my glass to try and cover my nerves.

He lets out a puff of air. “So I have a daughter?”

My face feels warm under his intense gaze. “Yes.”

He lets out a half sob half laugh of joy, tears welling in his eyes before he tries to wipe them away with the back of his hand. “All these years I had a kid and I didn’t know. I didn’t know, Catie. I-” Another half sob half laugh escapes him and he takes a moment to compose himself, his body not used to such displays of emotion. Not anymore.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that night?”

Why didn’t I? “You sounded so stressed and worried and I didn’t want to add onto that. I was going to tell you the next time I saw you but…” but indeed. 

“How long had you known?”

“That day. I had suspected for a couple of days but I had to wait until I was sure I had missed my period to test and I didn’t want to tell you and be wrong.”

“You should’ve told me, sweetheart. We could’ve done the test together.”

I chuckle darkly. “Yeah I probably should’ve done that.”

“Tommy never told me.”

“What?”

“When I was here before. He told me you were here but not that I…that I have…why the fuck wouldn’t he tell me?” Joel pushes himself up from the couch in anger, pacing back and forth across the hardwood floor. “He should’ve told me!”

“Joel, he did what he thought was right.”

He looks at me, anger flashing in his eyes. “He had no right to keep that from me. If I had known, I would’ve-”

“Not brought Ellie to the Fireflies for a chance to save humanity?”

He stops pacing, turning towards me with shock on his face. “He told you about Ellie?”

I nod, sighing. “He did.”

“And he didn’t tell me I had-have a fucking daughter? And that she was here?”

“In all fairness to Tommy, he only told me after I got pissed he didn’t mention her to you.”

Joel scoffs. “What an asshole.”

“I…I thought maybe if you knew, you would’ve…maybe you would’ve at least stayed to meet her.”

Anger leaves his body and he sits next to me on the couch, hesitantly placing his hand on my thigh. “I definitely would’ve. When he told me you were here…I was intent on seeing you. Or seeing if he was pulling shit out of his ass. But he reminded me how important my cause was and since it was time sensitive, I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t at least have simply said hi?”

“Sweetheart, there is no ‘simply’ between us. If I’d have seen you, I wouldn’t have been able to leave.”

Tears fall from my eyes and I wipe at them furiously. “Did it work out at least?”

“Did what work out?”

“Ellie. And the Fireflies.”

Joel grows quiet for several moments. “Turns out they didn’t need her after all. Found others and couldn’t use the blood.”

He’s lying. I know he’s lying but now’s not the time to press him for more information.

“She come here with you?”

Joel nods. “I wasn’t just gonna leave her there.”

“No, no. I think that’s great. There’s a good community here. I’m sure she’ll fit right in.”

“She was already makin’ friends the moment we walked in the gate.”

A long pause passes between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s a processing silence, both of us trying to categorize and file the information we both learned from the other. When I look at him, I can tell he’s far off, thinking and brooding on things, which isn’t always a good thing.

“I wish you’d have told me that night.”

Ah.

“It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“It would’ve changed everything! I would’ve grabbed Sarah and headed straight over to your place, bringing you…I don’t know, ginger ale and crackers? Whatever you wanted. We’d have stayed with you, started our family. Sarah so wanted a sibling. Especially a sister. Shit, she’d be so happy right now if she were….”

His voice tapers off but I know what he was going to say.

If she were alive.

I place my hand on his and squeeze it. “Tommy told me. I know nothing I say can make up for it, but I am so sorry Joel. I miss her terribly. I can’t imagine how it is for you.”

His mouth sets in a line, his jaw clenching, hand squeezing a little tighter on my thigh as if he’s trying to prevent himself from losing it. 

“Maybe if I had known you were pregnant, and we came over, she’d still be alive.”

“Oh, Joel, no. You can’t think like that-”

“I failed her.”

He spoke so quietly I almost didn’t hear him. The guilt in his words, however, was loud enough to hear from space. I bring my other hand to the side of his face, cupping his cheek, his patchy greyish stubble poking at my fingers, and gently turn his face upwards to mine. 

“You are a great man, Joel. And a hell of a father. There is no way that Sarah would ever think that you failed her in any way. She loved you so much and idolized you.”

The tears come this time, unable to hold them back any longer. I pull him to me and hug him, cradling the back of his head as he cries into my shoulder, mourning the loss of his daughter anew as he attempts to put aside the intense load of guilt he’s carried around for the last 2 decades. We stay like this for a while, my own tears mixing with his, as the light from the setting sun streaks through the curtains. 

Eventually, Joel pulls back, wiping at his face with the back of his hand before he finally looks at me, his beautiful eyes puffy from tears. I’m sure mine don’t look any better.

“Sorry about that.”

“Sorry for what? Being human?”

He smiles and the room lights up with it. “You were always so good at that.”

“At what?”

“Letting me feel things. And makin’ me feel like I wasn’t a complete fuck up.”

“That’s because you aren’t.”

He scoffs, smirking at me in disbelief. “I’ve had to do some shady shit to survive, sweetheart.”

“Who hasn’t?”

“You got me there. I’m still a fuck up though. Don’t know how you didn’t see it.”

“Hhmm…” I put my finger to my chin in mock thinking. “It’s probably because I’m in love with you then.”

Joel cocks his head slightly to the side, questioning my statement. I’m not sure why, as my love for him is no secret to me. 

“In love? Not was in love?”

Oh.

“I-”

The front door opens and Poppy walks in. I nearly jump out of my skin, having been completely absorbed in our conversation. Or was it more of a confession?

“Hey Mom! I’m only home to grab some clothes. Then I’m heading to Lyra’s. There’s this new girl in town, Ellie? She’s only 15 but she’s pretty cool. Oh.” Poppy had walked into the living room, her eyes, exactly like her father’s, shifting from me to Joel. I stand and Joel copies me, staying put while I walk around the couch towards Poppy.

“Mom..I didn’t know you had company. You never have company.” She thinks she’s speaking quietly but it’s not quiet enough. 

“Poppy-”

“I mean, I think it’s great, but….but…” Her eyes fully take in Joel, landing on his face as she stares, her eyes slowly widening in realization. She had only seen him in the photos I was able to share with her, a few printed ones and then some on the cell phone I had refused to toss away, carting it across the country along with a charger in hopes of finding power to charge it. 

“Dad?” Poppy whispers in disbelief.

Joel looks nervous, his weight shifting from foot to foot. This man has faced countless clickers, bandits, and worse, but meeting his 20 year old daughter is the thing that does him in?

God I love this man.

His hand comes up and does a little wave as he stares back at her, clearing his throat. “Hi. I’m uh… I’m Joel.”

“Dad!” Poppy drops her bag and runs, launching herself over the couch and straight into his arms, wrapping herself around him as she cries. It takes Joel a moment to recover from the intense reaction, but he wraps his arms around her and holds her, hugging her just as tight. Tears obstruct my vision and I blink quickly, trying to wipe them away so I don’t miss a moment of this meeting. 

Her feet back on the floor, Poppy pulls back, her eyes raking over Joel’s face. “Was I too much?”

Joel laughs, smiling down at his daughter. “Not enough.”

She laughs and he brings his hand to her face, wiping away her tears. “I’m sorry, Poppy.”

“For what?”

“I didn’t…I didn’t know-”

She waves her hand. “Mom told me everything. You never knew I existed and then the world went to shit. It’s ok. You’re here now and that’s what matters! Wait - you are staying right?”

Joel’s eyes shift from Poppy’s to mine and I look back at him waiting for an answer myself. I want him to stay, desperately need him to stay, but I understand if he wants to leave. I never asked if he had someone waiting for him somewhere.

“I don’t wanna step on you or your mom’s toes-”

Poppy blows a raspberry. “Step away! I know mom is thrilled you’re here. And I want to get to know my dad….dad… I can finally say that! ‘Hey, this is my dad!’ ‘Have you met my dad?’ I just…I can’t believe you’re here and not….not here.”

Clever way of saying dead.

“Me too, Poppy.”

“Mom, I know I said I would meet my friends, but-” she glances back at me and then smiles, giving me a knowing wink “-but I..will be going…to meet up with…Benny. Yeah, he’s uh probably waiting. For me. So I’ll just…grab my things and leave you two…alone…”

She is so not slick, but I love her so much. 

She gives me another wink before fully turning to Joel. “We can hangout and talk more?”

“I look forward to it.”

She squeals and gives him one more hug before bounding across the hall to her room and reemerging only a handful of minutes later with a backpack. 

“Poppy?”

“Mom?”

“Stay for dinner at least. Then you can meet up with your friends.”

“Ugh, mom. You’re smothering me.” She has a smile while she says it, casually tossing her bag down before sitting next to Joel. 

I make dinner while they talk, Poppy telling him about her life and asking him a zillion questions about his. He seems to be able to talk about Sarah now, at least a little before Poppy tactfully changes the topic. They talk throughout dinner, laughing and joking, sounds I never thought I’d hear together. Eventually, Poppy leaves to hang out with her friends, excited to tell them about her dad. As soon as the door closes, Joel turns to me.

“Who’s Benny?”

Protective dad mode activated I see. Smiling, I tell him about Benny and how he’s a good guy and about he and Poppy. He seems more relaxed after but still in protective dad mode.

“I’ll have to meet him.”

“I’m sure you won’t have the choice not to.”

Dishes cleaned up, I offer Joel a glass of whiskey and he takes it, tasting a sip before setting it down on the coffee table as he relaxes back into the couch again.

“You and Ellie have a place to stay?”

“Yeah. Tommy and Maria gave us a house. Actually, it’s not too far from here I don’t think.”

“That’s great. I’m sure Ellie will be happy to have a more permanent place to live.”

“And her own room that she can slam the door to.”

We chat for a few minutes about parenting teenage daughters and the challenges it can bring. He takes another sip of his whiskey after telling me a bit about Ellie, or what he learned about her on their long trek anyway. It’s quiet between us again, but this time, I’m warmed by the whiskey and given a slight bit of confidence.

“In love.”

“What?” Joel asks, setting his glass down.

“From before. In love. Not was.”

He turns to me fully, his eyes raking across my face trying to detect a lie and finding none. 

“It’s been 20 years, sweetheart. I don’t expect anythin’-”

“It’s always been you, Joel.”

His large hand cups the back of my head and pulls me to him, his lips crashing against mine and it’s like no time has passed, my lips immediately parting for him like they were created for just this purpose. His other hand comes up to cradle the other side of my head as my fingers cling to his shirt, trying to find purchase on literally anything. I feel like I’m falling but in the most glorious way possible. While I never gave up hope that he was alive, having him here, now, 20 years later, how we both defied odds to just end up in the same community, after the world had been torn apart…

He pulls back, his nose brushing against mine. “I never stopped loving you either, sweetheart.”

My hands slide up his chest and around his neck, gripping the curls at the back of his neck and feeling him groan as he slips his tongue in my mouth again, kissing me harder than before. I feel his fingers gently brush against the exposed skin at my hips, his hands having settled there and I can’t help the moan that escapes me. Joel’s touch has always sent electricity through me, but not having had it for 20 years is a whole new level. 

“I don’t mean to be presumptuous, sweetheart, but-”

“My bedroom is down the hall, second door on the right.”

He smiles against my lips, chuckling darkly. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

—----

>>I Never Stopped Living You Part 2>>

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

Original Idea from @theewokingdead:

"I have had this idea for a long-lost love refound fic with Joel Miller swimming around in my head for a while, but I don't think I'll ever get in the headspace to write it. So enjoy what I wish I could write and hope someone will steal. Warning: mention of pregnancy in the beginning.

Imagine it's September 26, 2013. You've been dating Joel for a while and, oops, you're pregnant. You're a flurry of emotions and have no idea how or when you're going to tell him. He calls you late that night, on his way home from a hellish day at the jobsite, telling you about the prick of a contractor he's been dealing with and can't risk losing his job. When he asks if you've checked in on Sarah you tell him that she's fine and you're sorry you were feeling too ill to stay with her today. When he inquires further about your illness, you opt not to say anything, not like this, not when he's had a shit day, and instead feign that everything is okay and you'll be fine. The call is interrupted by Tommy, and you insist Joel answer his call. He offers to call you back, but you tell him to go home and get some rest, that you'll hopefully see him tomorrow.

Of course, several hours later, all hell breaks loose. You manage to get a call through to Joel, telling you to stay put, that he'll come for you, then you lose connection. Joel never finds you, but you never lose hope.

Two decades later, you're living in Jackson, having crossed paths with Tommy a year earlier when he returned to Texas, where you never strayed far from. You overhear the talk - that Tommy Miller's brother is in town - but bandits attack before you can find the source of the rumor. Later, you find Tommy as he puts a horse away in the stable, and you question if it's true, that Joel is here, and he reluctantly tells you he was. You ask if he told Joel that you're here and he says that he did. Your heart sinks - of course he wouldn't still love you after all these years, but why wouldn't he at least want to see you before he left? You ask if he told Joel about your daughter - his daughter - and Tommy says no, that it shouldn't come from his mouth. You're furious, thinking maybe Joel would've stayed in town if he had known that he has a daughter. You let Tommy have it, and eventually he tells you why Joel was in town and why he left, about Ellie and the hope to find a cure. Finally, you come to your senses, realizing there are far more important matters, and try to move on from dreaming about having a little family with a man you never stopped loving.

Months later, you're walking around town when you run into Joel. There are a million different ways the reunion could go. How would you tell him about your shared daughter? How would he feel? Would he be pissed at Tommy for knowing and not telling him when he first came to Jackson? Would he be angry you didn't tell him that night when he called, before the Outbreak? Would he have done anything differently that night had he known - things that could've changed the trajectory of his entire life? Would he wonder if it would have kept you guys together as a family? Would he wonder if it would have even kept Sarah from suffering the fate she suffered? Would he blame you for it? I just imagine it would be one big emotional reunion. How would it end? I don't know. I just love a good re-found love fic - be it happy or sad. I love angst. I love an emotional Joel. It could be fun. But I'll never get around to writing it so let's just pretend I did 😭"

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @Hauntedmama @giuliarogers-blog @icanbeyourjedi @diaryofkali @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @jadore-andor @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @marrianena  @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin 

[skele-bunny]

Hello! I absolutely love the sfw and angsty stuff you have and how you write Phantom it's adorable tbh. I hope you can do this request as i got a lil curious tho it's okay if you can't, what would happen if somehow Phantom's old master were to creep his way into top side? How would the pack deal with that? Specifically Phantom, would the others even let him know or try to hide it? Sorry if it got lengthy haha brain did silliness. Keep up the great work!

Anon...... I have plans I cannot reveal in full. BUT GOOD THING THATS FOR A SIDE STORY LINE!! Thank you so much for your kind words, and like usual LONG POST

(cw for mild descriptions of slavery, light with sa, and abuse)

Let's put it on my main "story line" I have-- you can read some of Albus/Phantom's backstory here! A little details on Albus for it to be fully understood:

Phantom's master's name is "Albus." He's an old guy, in humans standards would count as a salt n pepper. He's not connected to a pack specifically as he's involved with many and isn't tied down. He's what some would call a medicine man, knowledgeable on heavy spells and castings, even the ancient magick that he refuses to share on how but will do... Unless, of course, there's an exchange.

Albus had been wanting a mate for a very long time, and that's how he got Phantom! He was a sadistic motherfucker, loved toying with Phantom's mind and keeping him so weak and dumbed down. He was always stuck in chains and collars, claimed in every aspect by Albus. Sigils are covered on his body all the way from his mind to his womb. Albus owns him.

When Phantom got topside, those sigils never went away - they only got weak. If Albus got topside and in the clergy, Phantom wouldn't have a clue as Albus would immediately be put to work as personal assistant for the higher-ups. He's charming, he's gentle, he's very manipulative to get his way and get trust. Not to mention, he is attractive. This is already a problem, Albus is trusted extremely, he's knowledgeable, and has shown no reason to be considered a threat. Got them wrapped around his finger.

The pack would find out when Albus is ordered to deliver a message to Copia during practice. Phantom just shuts down. They keep eye contact and Albus just grows this demonic smile, and the pure scream of terror that Phantom gives has his pack jumping up in an instant. Dew is at the front, not understanding what's happening but he's not about to question his mate's fear.

Copia is trying to diffuse the situation; dude has his entire pack about to go feral on this equally teetering Quint. Albus is eventually shoved out and attention goes back on Phantom while Cirrus stays near the door in full instinct mode. Poor bat is in hysterics, clinging to Dew like no tomorrow, unable to make a clear sentence as he cries. When he's able to just yell "That's Albus!" It clicks.

Phantom has told his pack about what he's experienced, about who his master was. They're more furious than ever before, looking at Copia with such a hard glare before even Aurora is hissing. "Do something before we do."

Papa Copia is now going head-to-head against the entire higher ups, explaining how Albus threatens the literal life of one of his ghouls, and it's met with a "Then maybe we need a new guitarist, no?" But he doesn't stop there. He's fighting, and fighting. He's gets Special involved, whispering quietly--which gets the Doves involved. They like Phantom, he's another ghoul with wings and is Special's friend. You don't wanna piss off the missionaries which Albus has now successfully done.

In the mean time, Phantom is just locked down in the den, always with someone but he's so... Gone. His eyes are dull, not responding to his pack talking, won't eat, refusing to get out of bed. He can feel his body burning as he has more frequent night terrors, his trauma touch coming back and screaming in the night as he thinks Albus is on top of him again. It doesn't help that Albus does get in his head eventually. They were mated, he has a link.

Whispering to Phantom how "we'll be home soon"/"I missed you so much"/"feel that? That's our bond"/"why don't you make this easier for both of us? Come to me, parum vespertilio."/"I still own you."

His pack is doing their best to take care of him, spoon feeding and even Aether blocking certain memories and keeping him clouded so Albus can't invade. Phantom is tired all the fucking time now, and slowly going back into his old slave behaviors. Everything the pack worked to fix, to heal, to improve. Gone. He's back to keeping his head down, hiding under tables when he has moments of clarity, presenting himself when his mind deems it as "calm xyz down."

LUCKILY... The Missionaries are good at what they do. They don't work with just humans.

Albus waking up so deep in the ministry, strapped to a table, even past the catacombs. The stench of death is everywhere, specifically ghoul death. See! The fun thing about Special, is Sister loves him. All he has to do is ask, and he can do whatever the fuck he wants. No one can go against Sister.

All Albus sees is five very tall, very pissed off Ghouls with a smaller one in the middle holding a syringe of blue liquid.

It's not quick. It's not merciful. Even Copia gets to make an appearance!

Phantom is woken up by a knock on his door, Swiss instantly getting up to answer it. Special is there just smiling, the rest of the pack slowly filling in as he holds a box out that stinks. "For you. Sarra said to see him later for your sigil removal." And he leaves.

He's just so confused, slowly opening the box and face going pale as Albus' horns are sat inside carefully, as well as his heart.

[bucky-fricking-barnes]

Protect & Respect

Title: Protect & Respect

Pairing: Mafia!Steve x Former FBI Agent!Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Language, kidnapping, non-consensual drug use, weapons, kissing

Summary: After Steve goes missing, Y/N meets up with a rival mob boss to organize his safe return.

A/N: This is the first time I’ve written Mafia!Steve! It was fun to write, so please let me know if you enjoyed it. As always, thank you for reading this story and supporting me in all the ways you do!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

The drive to their specified location is only a short distance from your Brooklyn apartment, but you get there in half the time. As you turn the corner, you realize you’re only half a block from your old apartment, the moldy one in Queens that Steve moved you out of as soon as you’d gotten together.

Once parked, you grab the bag Bucky had put together while you’d paced back and forth in Steve’s office, then climb out of the black SUV. You slam the driver’s side door shut and stalk across the empty street, ignoring the old man who watches you from the edge of the shadows with a greedy look in his eye. You have bigger fish to fry.

You toss the zipped duffel at Javier’s feet as soon as you’re close enough. A few feet behind him, his two buddies stand with Steve smack dab between them. He’s on his side in the gravel, his eyes closed. There are no visible wounds, but you don’t trust that he’s unharmed, like they’d said on the phone.

Slowly, casually, and taking great pleasure in your anger, Javier reaches down to pick up the bag. His rings glint in the yellowed security light on the nearby workshop. You’ve always thought he dressed too ostentatiously, but now you wish you could shove his rings down his throat, one by one, just so he could suffer.

“It’s all there,” you snap when he starts to unzip the bag, and you push past him to crouch near Steve’s head. “Steve, can you hear me?”

His hands are tied tightly behind his back with a thick black zip tie and you almost gag at the stench coming off of him. He’s been missing for several days now, and it’s clear that he’s been in their hands for just as long. You don’t need to search his clothing for humiliating stains to know that. Javier has never treated his prisoners well. As soon as you’re done exacting your revenge on his kidnapper, you’re going to make sure your husband gets a bath, a good meal, and a thorough examination from Dr. Banner.

Carefully, you place your hand on Steve’s head, stroking his hair with your thumb, but he doesn’t even stir under your attendance. Something clicks inside your brain and you slowly lift your eyes to glare at Javier, the anger inside of you rising to a head.

“What did you give him?” you grind out.

Javier clicks his tongue. “One would think the boss would be a little more careful. All I had to do was mention you, and he was ready to be at my beck and call. It was quite amusing, actually.” He shoves the bag towards the man to your right.

“What did you give him?” you repeat, your voice rising in pitch as your anger and desperation grows. Steve was strong, and thanks to the secret government programs he’d been subjected to during his time in the military, he was practically immune to every kind of drug. To render him unconscious, they would’ve had to either pump his system full of enough drugs to kill any mere mortal or give him something strong, something you couldn’t access on the street. If they had access to something like that, it means that they’d made a deal with HYDRA, and that would mean Steve’s kidnapping went deeper than just Javier’s meager show of power.

The man on the left steps closer, leaning down to grab your arm. You jerk away, slapping him across the face. Your voice has reached an unholy screech as you repeat the question, but Javier is unfazed. His fingers twitch and suddenly your arms are behind your back. You struggle against his lackey’s grip, but your anger does you no good. You suddenly wish you’d taken Steve’s offer of training more seriously. It’s been over a year and a half since you’d had to do any kind of fighting, and though your former FBI training is still ingrained deep into your bones, you’re rusty, and it’s too late by the time you’re ready to fight back. Why hadn’t you just told Bucky where you were going? Why hadn’t you let Clint or Natasha come with you, even though you’d vowed to come alone?

“You really believed that you could save him?” Javier mocks. The man holding you hostage chuckles in your ear and you shudder, attempting once again to wrench yourself away from him. The other man brusquely pats you down, but you’d stayed true to every term of the agreement. You’d come unarmed, even though you now severely regretted it.

“Let us both go and maybe you’ll live to see the end of the week,” you spit.

“You’re nothing but a whore to warm the Captain’s bed.”

A cold sense of dread fills you as you’re yanked to your feet. The man pushes you back towards the street and you stumble, craning your neck to see Steve’s still form on the ground.

“Let me go!”

Nobody answers you as you’re dragged to a black sedan tucked into the shadows of the warehouse. You catch a glimpse of the old man across the street as you struggle, and his eyes follow you as the lackey pushes you into the trunk, but he does nothing to help. The trunk is slammed shut and you narrowly avoid getting clipped as you fight to get out.

“Load him up into the backseat, and give him another dose,” Javier orders, his voice muffled by the metal around you. “We don’t need him waking up before we get there.” He pounds on the top of the trunk and you flinch at the banging. “Comfortable? We’ve got a long drive ahead of us, sweetheart.”

You shout at him and struggle, making the car rock beneath you, but it’s no use. The trunk is locked shut, and when you scramble for the emergency release, you realize that it’s gone. They’ve somehow removed it, leaving you well and truly fucked. All you can do is sit tight and keep calm. The drive to wherever you’re headed will be an opportune time to think of a plan to fight back and get both you and Steve home where you belong.

The car starts with a grumble and a whine, and it lurches beneath you when the driver accelerates. It takes you twenty-five minutes of listening to the muffled crap radio they’re playing in the car before you remember the device Natasha had sewn into your bra.

You have to wiggle a little to get the right angle, but after several long moments, you press the button in the tracking device. A soft beep is the only response you get, but you let out a sigh of relief. Natasha would get the signal. You’d be rescued soon enough.

By the time the car slows to a stop and the trunk opens, the sun is rising. The inky black sky is starting to grow lighter, changing to dark blue, then to a paler shade the closer it gets to the ground. You’ve dozed off several times, and you open your eyes just as one of Javier’s henchmen opens the trunk. You glare up at him.

“Bring her inside,” Javier orders, somewhere on the driver’s side of the car. “Stick her in the guest room.”

You don’t have any time to wonder what he means by “the guest room” before the man is grabbing you and pulling you from the trunk. You stumble as he shoves you towards an imposing manor surrounded by nothing but tall, dark pine trees. They block the sunrise, though the lightness creeps up towards their tops with every passing minute.

Javier is climbing the wide marble steps to the front door. It’s braced with Grecian columns, and a black lantern hangs above the white marble entryway. 

“Your vacation home looks a little worse for wear,” you bite.

He only turns around and gives you a sickening grin before the front door is opened by a short woman in a traditional gray maid’s uniform. She gives him a small curtsy, and you hold back a groan of disgust. Of course Javier wanted to be curtised to.

Steve is nowhere in sight, and when you turn around to see if he’s still in the backseat of the sedan, the man leading you inside shoves his gun between your shoulder blades.

“Keep walking, whore,” he hisses, and you shudder at his hot breath in your ear.

You’re led inside the house, then down into the basement. After carefully descending the stairs, you enter a long hallway. The man shoves you through the first metal door you come to, and you fall onto your hands and knees. He slams the door behind you, and a light flickers on above as the lock engages.

Slowly, you sit back on your heels to inspect your hands. You’re not bleeding, but you flex them and wince at the sting from your fall. Once you’re sure that you’re not seriously injured, you take in your surroundings.

The room has four walls of gray concrete, with a steel door behind you. The ceiling and floor are also concrete, and there’s a prison-like toilet and sink combination in the corner next to the door. There are two cameras: one pointed at the door and the other pointed at the bed, which is just a twin-size metal bed frame with a chintzy mattress laid on top. There’s no pillow, but the blanket looks thin and scratchy. Clearly, Javier and whatever HYDRA operative he’s working with care very little for their assets.

Climbing to your feet, you take inventory of yourself. Your muscles are tense from the cramped drive from Queens. You quickly do the math in your head. If the sun is just rising and you’d gone to meet Javier at midnight, then you’d driven for at least six hours, which could put you in a number of states. You’d activated the tracking device less than an hour into the drive, so if you were lucky, Nat and the rest of the team would be here soon enough. You just had to hope that Steve was somewhere else in the manor, rather than the two of you being separated.

The blanket sends up a cloud of dust when you flip it over on the mattress, making you cough. When there’s no sign of bugs or suspicious stains, you settle yourself in the corner of the mattress. You can fully watch the door from your spot, so you sit back against the cool concrete and wait.

Finally, after what feels like hours, the door opens and you’re greeted by the muzzle of a silenced gun, then Bucky’s grim expression. Upon seeing you, however, he relaxes and smiles just a little.

“Took you long enough,” you tease, and he lets out an indignant huff.

“You’re the one who waited so long to turn on the tracker. Are you hurt, mo bhanríon?” he asks, and with the lilt of the familiar name comes the first hint of comfort you’ve had in a few days.

You shake your head and slide off the bed, then take the extra gun he pulls from his thigh holster. After looking it over, you also take the knife he pulls out from his boot. You slip it in your own. 

“Maybe I just wanted to test your skills. Have you found Steve yet?”

Bucky shakes his head. “We’re still looking.” He leads you out into the corridor and the two of you begin searching behind the other metal doors. All of them open into cells identical to your own, but they’re empty of prisoners. 

When you reach the end of the hall, he taps the comms unit in his ear. “Basement’s clear. I found an bhanríon, she’s unharmed. Any sign of Steve?” 

You hold your breath, waiting as Bucky listens to the rest of Steve’s men as they report back. Finally, his shoulders slump and he closes his eyes, muttering Irish curses under his breath.

“What? What is it?” You step closer and grab Bucky’s prosthetic with your free hand. “Did they find him?”

Much to your relief, Bucky nods. He turns and begins to steer you toward the stairs leading up to the main floor of the manor.

“Is he okay?” you ask, glancing over at him as you walk. “They gave him something—I don’t know what. Whatever it was, though, it was strong. He was totally out of it, Bucky. I’ve never seen him like that before.”

He passes by you to climb the steps first, his gun drawn. “He’s okay. Be quiet, Y/N. Main floor isn’t clear,” he murmurs.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you try to refocus yourself on the task at hand. Being distracted in enemy territory is a stupid way to go, and you need to get back to Steve in one piece, just like you always promised you would.

You follow Bucky in silence, letting him clear the rooms first before you do your own sweep. The entire manor feels like it’s holding its breath. There isn’t a single noise as you move from room to endless room. It makes your stomach twist—where had Javier and his men gone? Where is the maid in the gray uniform who had met you at the door?

You’re on the last hallway when you finally hear a soft clatter from one of the rooms. Bucky tenses, and you give him a little more space as you trail behind. 

Slowly, he approaches the door. He waits for a moment, listening, and then he pushes his way in with his gun drawn. There’s a feminine scream and you grip your gun a little tighter.

“Where are they?” Bucky demands. His voice is as cold as ice and you shiver. You’d hate to be on the receiving end of “The Sergeant’s” questioning. He’s known across New York first for his prosthetic, and then for his ruthless interrogation skills.

“I don’t know!” a woman cries. “Mr. Smith told me to come wait here for him, but it’s been two hours! I heard noises, so I hid!”

There’s a pause as Bucky stares her down to determine if she’s telling the truth or not. You use that time to step forward into the doorway behind him and inspect the room. It’s a broom closet, more or less, with a square wooden card table and two matching chairs in the middle of the room. The walls are covered with hanging cleaning supplies, and there are several shelving units holding various boxes and bottles against the far wall. A small microwave sits on the back of the table, and a clock hangs in the only empty space on the wall a few feet above the microwave. From the looks of things, Javier has made the large closet into the poorest excuse for a break room that you’ve ever seen. You feel even worse for the woman. Not only did she have to work for and curtsy to one of the most ridiculous mob bosses you’ve ever met, but she didn’t even have a good place to eat her lunch in peace.

“She’s an employee here, Bucky,” you quietly tell him from behind. “She curtsied when Javier walked in. I don’t think she knows much of anything. None of his other men treated him the same way.”

Bucky grunts a little at that information, then lowers his gun. The woman lets out a sigh of relief, but she still trembles as she watches you from her spot on the floor beneath the table.

“Did they hurt you?” she asks, her voice wavering as she fixes her eyes on you.

You shake your head and offer her a brief, polite smile. “I’m fine. We need you to stay here until we figure out what to do with this place. Can you do that?”

The woman nods. “Yes, ma’am.” She pauses, looking between you and Bucky for a moment. “Your friend is being held in the conservatory.”

“Thank you,” Bucky replies, though you know they’ve already found Steve.

You turn and head back into the hallway as he gives the woman one last warning to stay put. Bucky follows you back the way you’d come after closing the door to the closet-turned-break room.

“The conservatory?” you ask, and Bucky hums behind you.

“Turn left,” he instructs when you reach the main hall again. 

He gives you directions as you walk, leading you down several long hallways till you reach the northeastern corner of the mansion. It’s bigger than it had looked from the front.

The sun is fully up now, and you’re greeted with the last remnants of the sunrise when you step through the French doors and into the conservatory. The room is massive, with windows braced with white trim making up the majority of the three outer walls. The ceiling stretches up almost fifty feet, and the floor beneath you is black and white checkerboard tile. Each square is at least four feet across.

All around you, plants of every size and shape grow together, creating the feel of a small, indoor forest. The majority of the plants are tropical. Some of them have leaves as big as the fancy dinner plates Steve’s employees pull out for galas, and there are hidden water spigots spraying a fine mist over them. There are palms dotted around the room, as well as hibiscus trees. A fountain sits in the center of the conservatory. Two large, potted palms sit in front of it, and between them there’s a red velvet settee. 

Your eyes find Steve’s immediately, and it feels like your legs give out for a second. Bucky’s still beside you, however, and he manages to keep you upright with an arm around your waist.

“Mo grá,” Steve says from where he’s seated on the center of the settee, and his deep baritone is like a balm to your soul. You close your eyes and let out a breath. It feels like you’re breathing for the first time in days. It’s definitely the first time you’ve been this relaxed.

When you meet his gaze again, Steve smiles wearily and holds out a hand. You close the distance between you and stand between his outstretched legs. He looks up at you, and the two men who’d been standing guard behind the couch move so they’re no longer in your line of sight. 

“Did they hurt you?” he asks. There’s a glint of anger in his eyes as he speaks, but you know better. The glint is just a hint of what’s hiding inside of him. Steve is furious that they’ve taken him, but he’s even more angry that they took you. You know he’s probably beating himself up over it, too.

You lift your hands and run them through Steve’s hair. Instinctively, he closes his eyes and leans into your touch, just like he always does.

“No, my love,” you gently answer. “I’m okay. How are you feeling? They gave you something… I don’t know what. Whatever it was, it was strong.”

You can hear the fear and uncertainty in your voice, and you wish that you could hide it better, but all the willpower in the world wouldn’t help you right now. You’ve never been able to hide anything from Steve. It’s how he’d discovered your true identity so quickly, even if he hadn’t revealed that to you until your investigation had been completely foiled.

“I’m fine,” he soothes. “A little tired, maybe.”

Nodding, you let Steve take your hand and kiss your palm, then close your fingers into a fist. He does the same to your other hand, and then he pulls you down to kiss him properly. He pulls you so close that you’re forced to straddle him with your knees firmly planted on the cushions on either side of him.

Behind you, Natasha clears her throat. Your cheeks grow hot when you remember that there are others present for your reunion, and you sit back so you can look at her from over your shoulder. Steve supports your weight with his knees underneath you and with both hands on your ass. Your own hands rest on your thighs.

“As touching as this reunion is, I have news,” she says. There’s a small smirk on her face, and you have to resist the urge to throw the nearest pillow at her.

“What is it, Natasha?” Steve asks. He’s all business again.

“We’ve found Javier, Captaen,” Natasha replies. She bows her head a little when she says his title, the same way every one of the mobsters does. It was strange to you when you first joined them, but you’ve grown used to it. The action is comforting, in a way. You know it means a show of respect for Steve, and with that comes respect and protection for you, too.

“And?”

“He’s finished.”

Steve nods once. “Good. We’ll be leaving soon. Round up any remaining men and take them to the office. Bring Jim and Frenchie with you.”

You’ve never been to Steve’s “office”. You’d tried, once, when you were still an agent assigned to uncover the syndicate, but Steve had prevented that from happening. Now, you have no desire to see the evidence of his work. You have no interest in the grizzly details of the Rogers Crime Family, even if you’re now a part of that family.

“One of Javier’s employees is in a room down the hall. She’s not one of his men, she just works in the house. What do you want us to do with her?” Bucky asks.

Steve stays quiet for a minute, and you feel his thumbs brush against the waistband of your jeans as he thinks. Finally, he looks up at you.

“What do you think, mo grá?” 

“Let her go. Pay her off,” you instantly tell him. You bring one hand up to cradle his cheek. “She’s innocent, I can tell.”

Steve nods once, then tilts his head to look past you at his oldest, most trusted friend. “You hear that, Buck?”

There’s no response, but Steve leans against the back of the settee and smiles softly, pulling you down to lay on top of him. He wraps his arms around you in a gentle embrace, so you can only assume that Bucky and Natasha have gone off to do Steve’s bidding, along with the two guards that had been here when you arrived, leaving the two of you alone in the conservatory.

“I was so worried,” you murmur, and Steve hums. 

“I wasn’t.”

You lean back a little so you can look at him. Steve has his head tilted back with his eyes closed, and there’s a soft smile on his face. The early morning light that streams in through the massive conservatory windows makes his hair and face seem glowing and almost ethereal. Somewhere in the room, a bird chirps its morning song, adding to the heavenly illusion.

“You weren’t?”

“No. I knew we’d be reunited again. We always are, mo rúnsearc,” Steve replies. He opens his eyes and your breath catches in your throat, just like it always does when he looks at you this intensely. You’ve been together for years now and yet somehow, Steve still takes your breath away.

You brush his cheekbone with your thumb before you drop your hand. His hands have moved to your hips, and you gently pull one of them off so you can intertwine your fingers.

“You haven’t called me that since we first started dating,” you tell him.

Steve chuckles. “You hated that nickname.”

“I didn’t know what it meant!” you protest, and he laughs again, this time more earnestly.

“You were such a confused little bird back then,” he says, affection clear in his tone. “You had no idea what you’d gotten yourself into.”

Shaking your head, you lean down to give him a chaste kiss. “No, I definitely didn’t. Not even in my wildest dreams would I have thought that I’d fall in love with the mob boss.”

“Tell me then,” Steve replies.

His other hand finds your own and you shift your weight so you can sit more comfortably in his lap. He’s totally focused on you and your response. Your heart swoops a little at the attention. Steve always knows how to make you feel heard and important, even when it’s only the two of you in the room.

“What would have been your wildest dreams back then?”

“My wildest dreams?” you ask. He hums, his thumb rubbing over your hand as he waits for your answer. You tilt your head and consider him for a moment, then give him a slow, sly smile. “Probably falling in love with the mob boss’ second in command.”

Steve scoffs and pulls one hand from yours so he can smack your thigh, and you laugh loudly, tilting your head back.

“You’re a little shit, Y/N.”

“I learned from the best,” you tease.

“I’m never letting you sit next to Bucky at game night ever again,” Steve says. He’s holding back laughter—the corner of his lips twitches as he tries not to smile, and his chest heaves a little.

“Does this mean you and I can team up and win Monopoly together? I’m sick of losing against him and Nat, and it’s not fair that I have to be on my own team!”

“Is that what it’ll take to keep you in love with me?” he asks.

Grinning, you nod furiously, and Steve fakes a belabored sigh. “I suppose we can team up.”

You gather his hand again and lean forward until your forehead rests against his. You’re both smiling wide now, and you close your eyes as his nose bumps against yours. 

“I already love you, Steve Rogers,” you murmur. “I’d follow you anywhere. I’d go to war for you, you know.”

“I know you would, and if I have anything to do with it, you never will,” he replies. You smile a little when you feel his hand pull from yours, then slide up your neck to cradle the back of your head so he can guide you into another kiss. “I will always protect you.”

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[kryptid-writes]

Chapter 7 - Secrets Secrets Are No Fun

Coping with the new development of wings, Y/N must hide her secret from the Winchesters, but the veil falls during training when things get heated with Dean.

(2.2k)

TW: This chapter has to do with binding wings that may be viewed as similar to chest binding. If you practice chest binding, please do so safely my friends. <3

Call (1 - 866 - 488 - 7386) or visit TheTrevorProject.org for more resources.

“Disgusting.” I mutter under my breath, gazing at my back, topless in the mirror. 

The little protrusions between my shoulder blades have doubled in size since the morning light just hours ago. Reaching nearly 6 inches in length, they adorn sporadic white feathers with a golden glamor sprouting from the bone. They look frail and weak, like the feathers of a baby bird, but without a doubt, they were undeniably the early stages of wing growth. 

A single tear rolls down my cheek as I'm unable to control the rush of emotions, frustration, sadness, disgust tearing me apart from the inside out. 

This is wrong. This is all so wrong! Why me? WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS!

My thoughts run a thousand miles per hour, clattering around in my brain. However, the sound of knocking on the bathroom door quickly pulls me out of my head. 

“Hey, Y/N?” Sam’s sweet muffled voice comes through the other side of the door.

“Yeah, uh, just a minute,” I reply in a panicked tone, picking up my flannel from the floor and wrapping it around my body. Unsurprisingly, the flannel did little to disguise the problem,  the fabric stretching and poking out awkwardly around the appendages. 

Great. The last thing I need right now is the Winchesters to see the freak show that is my newly sprouted wings.

“Dean and I wanna talk to you when you have a minute.”

“Sure thing!” I put on a fake chirpy voice, immediately cringing at how fake it sounds. I can practically feel Sam purse his lips and furrow his brow in reaction to my odd tone on the other side of the door.

“Right,” Sam clears his throat. His footsteps fade in the distance as he walks away. 

I let out a sigh of relief that doesn’t last long as I remember the problem at hand. There must be something in this bathroom I can use to conceal my little problem. I stumble over to the white cabinet on the wall that hangs just above the sink and fling the door open. The cabinet is practically barren with the exception of a half empty bottle of over the counter pain medication and a small plastic container with the words, FIRST AID, scribbled on it in sharpie. 

“Of course.” I say through gritted teeth, swiping the kit and slamming the cabinet shut. The flimsy white plastic cracks open under my touch, the contents spilling on the floor with a clatter. I drop to my knees, paying little mind to the bruise that will likely form from the impact, and rummage through the supplies around me. Gause, scissors, bandaids, needle, thread, and, “Hah!” I proudly exclaim as I grab the medical wrap from the pile.

Pushing myself up onto my feet and in front of the bathroom mirror, I unravel the tape and begin wrapping it around my wings. I struggle as they resist and flutter against the fabric. If they would just hold still, the process would go alot faster, and time is certainly of the essence. I bite my lip, swallowing down the pain from my sensitive wings crunching under the tape, painfully immobilized. After several wraps, I was finally satisfied and tore off the end of the bandage with my teeth, tucking it securely away. Although it wasn’t perfect, they were successfully binded flat against my back.

I pull my flannel back on, buttoning it all the way up and turn to the side to admire my work in the mirror. It’s still rather lumpy in the back, but not very noticeable unless you really squint.

I take a deep breath, regulating my emotions, wiping away the tears, and putting on my best poker face. I exit the bathroom, closing the door behind me with a quiet click.

------------------------------------------------------------

Sam and Dean sit in the library, each lost in their own worlds.

 Sam, lounging in a chair, thumbing through the pages of an old biblical book. 

Dean sits on the table, a leg resting on the arm of Sam's chair as he repeatedly sharpens a long silver blade.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” I ask, grabbing their attention. I fold my hands behind my back, slowly rocking back and forth from the pads to the heels of my feet, trying to calm my nerves.

“Well, we’ve been talking it over and we think it’s best to give you some training. You need to be prepared for what’s to come.” Sam gives a reassuring smile.

“Kick the devil's ass and send him back to his maker,” Dean chuckles, playfully pointing the blade in my direction.

“Oh.” I scratch the back of my neck, conflicted at the idea of assassinating the man I have developed mixed feelings for, but also excited to learn some self defense. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, Sammy here can teach you how to exorcize demons. You can bet your ass there will be dozens guarding Lucifer. And me? I’m gonna teach you how to gank that feathery son of a bitch.” He turns the blade in his hand and plunges it into the wood of the table. It wobbles slightly before falling perfectly still.

“Okay...” Is all I can say as I struggle to process the information. 

I have no problem with exorcizing demons, the less that crawls this earth, the better. But Lucifer? Sure, I hate his guts for completely uprooting my life and turning me into some hybrid angel freak, but do I really want him dead?

The brothers give me an odd look, clearly expecting a different kind of response.

“So, where do we start?” I smile, trying to save the awkward interaction.

“I figure we start with some simple exorcism incantations.” Sam jumps up from his seat, rummaging in his jeans pocket for a folded piece of scrap paper. “This is your study guide.” He hands the slip to me.

I unfold it and written in neat handwriting is a series of Latin words. Beneath each word is the phonetic pronunciation, which is quite helpful considering I don’t know the first thing about reading Latin. I stare at the hefty paragraph, feeling rather intimidated.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna help you,” he reassures me.

I give him a polite nod and a quick smile, trying my best to stow away my doubt.

“Repeat after me, Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,” he says, slow and clear, making sure to over pronounce each syllable. 

“Exorcizamu… Exorcizamus te omnis immu… Immundus spiritus,” I repeat, butchering almost every word. I stare at the paper, replaying each word over and over in my head til it sticks. “ Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,” I say with confidence, smiling at my correct pronunciation.

“Excellent!” He smiles, squeezing my arm with pride.

For nearly 2 hours, Sam and I read through the incantation over a dozen times until I have the pronunciation of every word down to a T. Although my brain feels fried, I can’t help but glow with pride at my improvement and Sam's relentless praises.

“Alright, I think you deserve a break for today, but I want you to practice this as much as you can. This is very important,” Sam says, clasping his hands together.

“You got it big guy,” I reply playfully.

 He gives me a disapproving look at the nickname, but smiles as he turns his head and walks away.

------------------------------------------------------------

“Alright sweetheart, you ready for some real training?” Dean says gleefully, raising his eyebrows in question.

“Born ready,” I reply with a grin, looking around the training room he had led me to.

 The walls and floor are covered in thick black padding, the fabric worn and torn in certain places. Scattered throughout the room are half a dozen training dummies, many of them riddled with stab wounds and bullet holes. An array of weights and weapons are displayed along benches and tables in an orderly fashion.

He picks up the largest blade from the table and strolls over til he’s about a foot from in front of me. 

“This here is an angel blade.” He turns the long dagger in his hands, the light dazzling off the reflective metal. “This is the only thing that can kill an angel.” He looks me in the eyes, very serious this time.

My eyes fall from his to the angel blade in his calloused hands. Anxiety and doubt plague my mind, but I swallow down my emotions and nod in understanding.

He flips the blade with ease, passing it to me with the handle end exposed. 

I take it from his grasp, the metal still warm from his body heat. It feels heavy and powerful in my hand. I’ve carried a pocket knife with me for years in self defense, having only had to use it once when some drunk guy at a bar followed me to my car, but nothing compared to a weapon like this. 

He steps behind me and wraps his hand around mine, moving my fingers to the correct placement. “Your grip on the handle is very important.” He gives my hand a light squeeze. “These fingers need to be wrapped around one side of the handle and your thumb should be pressed against the other side,” he explains. “Grip it tight.”

I do as I'm told, feeling my grip strengthen, pleasantly surprised at the difference.

“Good,” he praises. 

I can feel his warm breath on my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. He guides me to the dummy in front of us, stopping when we're all but 6 inches away.

“Now, I’m gonna teach you how to wield it, okay?” He says in a deep voice. 

“Yes, Dean,” I reply in a hushed tone. Butterflies flutter around my stomach.

He steps closer, til he’s barely an inch behind me. He wraps his warm hands around mine and I can’t help but close my eyes and relish the feeling.

“Okay, you’re gonna bring your arm back to your side, bending the elbow,” he says, pulling my arm back. 

We stay there for a minute, just savoring the moment. The tension in the room is thick, but far from unpleasant.

“Now you’re gonna use the momentum of your body to push it forward.” 

Following his directions, I force the blade forward in one swift movement.

“Straighten your elbow sweetheart,” he purrs in my ear. 

I briefly close my eyes, trying to fight the heat rising in my body, and do as he says. The sound of the blade cutting through the air breaks the silence.

“Good job,” he praises. “Okay, when you’re attacking, you’re going to want to aim right here.” He points his finger to a spot on the dummy just below the sternum, where the vital organs are most exposed.

I nod, focusing on each of his words. 

He guides my hand back, then up, just as we practiced, plunging the blade right under the rib cage until it’s buried deep inside. 

I can’t hold back the gasp that falls from my lips.

“Good, very good!” He spins me around to face him. “See you’re a natural,” he chuckles. “A little more practice with me and you’ll be a pro,” Dean winks.

“What can I say? I learn from the best.” I blush with a smile.

He thoughtfully tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his eyes flicking back and forth between my own adoring eyes and my lips.

 I can’t help but return his interest. 

He leans in close, pressing his forehead to mine. 

My heart swells, as my pulse quickens. I hold my breath, waiting for his next move.

He leans in and ever so slightly presses his lips to mine, silently asking for my permission.

I close my eyes and lean in, claiming his lips with mine. 

Our lips move together in harmony like they are made for eachother. The kiss is soft and loving, as if we are just testing the waters, and my god it just feels so right. 

I sigh with content into his mouth as he places his hand on the small of my back, pulling our bodies together. I feel lost in the moment, wishing it would never end as his hands slowly travel up further until it reaches my bandaged wings poorly disguised under my flannel. 

He pulls back slightly, now looking at me with a mix of confusion and concern.

My eyes shoot open and my breath hitches in my throat as I realize what’s happening. The euphoric high of finally kissing Dean fades and the horror of his discovery, sits in my stomach like a ball of lead.

“Wha-,” he starts to ask.

Before he can utter the word, I forcefully push him away and rush out of the room. The world becomes muddy as my eyes blur with hot tears. I run and run until I reach my quarters and throw myself into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I toss the angel blade aside, not even registering the loud clatter of metal meeting tiles and sink to the ground, pulling my knees into my chest, not even bothering to fight the sobs that rack my body.

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