#truck driver blanket

[ofcowardiceandkings]

busy trying not to let panicking depresso espresso brain take over my life rn

[stylesispunk]

'The other side of the door'

Not outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: Joel is giving you the silent treatment until you come back home hurt, and he wasn't there.

w.c: idk.

warnings: angst, miscommunication, mentions of a broken arm, fluff.

a/n: this is me after having an outburst about not writing again. If this flops I will have another one and I'll take a break forever. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💌

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

It was 2 a.m., and you were sobbing on the cold bathroom floor like a little girl, asking for her mother to kiss the tears away. The pain on your now broken arm was unbearable, but the stillness in your heart was worse, enveloped in a shirt that belonged to your brother-in-law instead of your boyfriend because he didn’t pick up the phone after the officers called him.

Instead, Tommy picked you up, rushing to you the moment he saw you by the ambulance with a sling around your left side and a bandage on your forehead.

“Oh my god! Are you okay? Where is Joel?” He said something, touching your face for some sort of answer, but you stopped listening to him after Joel’s name was mentioned.

“I don’t know where Joel is.” You said it monotonously.

Tommy's face paled as he realized the gravity of the situation. "It's going to be alright; we'll find him," he said, though his voice trembled with uncertainty.

“He didn’t pick up the phone,” you said again. “He hasn’t talked to me in a week, Tommy.”

“My brother can be grumpy sometimes; you know him,” he said, trying to find a way to make you smile, but you felt just ashamed.

You didn’t mean to be hit by a car on the on the way home, but everything happened so fast, and your mind was everywhere but focused on the road ahead of you.

“What if I call him?” he offered.

“He turned off the phone after my call,” you said, standing up slowly with the help of the paramedic.

Tommy helped you into the backseat of his truck, making sure you were secure before he slid into the driver’s seat. The drive to your house was quiet, save for your occasional wince of pain and Tommy’s sighs of worry. He kept glancing at you through the rearview mirror, his concern evident.

Once home, Tommy guided you inside, supporting your weight gently. He settled you on the couch and handed you a glass of water. "You need to rest," he said softly. "I’m sure you both will figure this out in the morning."

You nodded weakly, too exhausted to argue. The pain in your arm was a constant reminder of the accident, but the ache in your heart was a dull, persistent throb. You clutched Joel’s shirt tighter around you, its familiar scent providing a small comfort.

“Do you want me to stay here and beat him once he arrives?” He asked jokingly, making you smile for a mere second.

“No, I don’t think that’s necessary,” you said, managing a weak smile despite the situation. “But thank you, Tommy.”

He chuckled softly, sitting down beside you. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. Joel can be stubborn, but he loves you. I’m sure he’ll come around.”

You leaned your head back, closing your eyes for a moment. The exhaustion was overwhelming, but sleep was still a distant hope.

Tommy stayed with you for a little while longer, making sure you were comfortable. He adjusted the pillows around you and tucked the blanket more securely. "You should get some sleep," he said gently. "I'll stay until you do."

You nodded, too tired to argue, but you couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness. You tried to focus on the comforting presence of Tommy, the warmth of Joel's shirt, and the hope that things would be better in the morning.

Eventually, Tommy rose from the couch. "I'm going to head out now. You can call me if you need anything, okay?"

You managed a small nod. "Thanks, Tommy. I really appreciate it."

He gave you a reassuring smile, though the worry never left his eyes. "Get some rest. We’ll figure everything out in the morning." He squeezed your shoulder gently before heading to the door.

You listened to the sound of the door closing and the silence that followed. The house felt impossibly quiet and empty. The weight of the evening pressed down on you, and tears welled up in your eyes again.

There was Joel’s shirt on the couch, and you clutched it tighter with your left arm, breathing in the faint scent of him. The memories of the accident replayed in your mind—the screeching tires, the impact, the confusion. But what hurt the most was Joel’s absence, his phone turned off, and the uncertainty of where he was or why he hadn’t answered.

You stood up, walking upstairs towards your and Joel’s bedroom, but instead of lying on the bed, you walked to the bathroom, closing the door behind you, and slid down, sitting on the floor. Tears began to flow down your cheeks.

Joel wasn't home. Now that you needed him, he was out somewhere, still avoiding you.

You sat on the cold bathroom floor, your back against the door, and let the tears flow freely. The pain in your arm was nothing compared to the ache in your heart. You felt abandoned, hurt, and utterly alone.

As the minutes passed, you lost track of time, consumed by the overwhelming sadness. The sound of your sobs echoed off the tiled walls, and you didn’t hear the faint sound of a key turning in the front door or the footsteps on the stairs.

Joel moved through the house with a growing sense of urgency, the emptiness and silence amplifying his fear. It wasn't until he stepped inside the bedroom that he heard you wiping from the bedroom.

Gently, he opened the door and saw you sitting on the cold floor, clutching to your own arm and sobbing uncontrollably. The sight broke his heart, and he immediately kneeled beside you, his presence startling you from your sorrow.

"What the hell happened?" he asked softly, ignoring your plea. He didn’t understand why you were this hurt when, in the morning, you were perfectly fine.

"Go." You whispered, ashamed of yourself for being hurt and crying.

"Now you want to talk?" you asked, standing up carefully and using the wall for support.

Joel reached out to steady you, his touch gentle but firm. "Please, just tell me what happened," he said, his voice filled with concern.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "I was hit by a car on my way home. It happened so fast, and I was so scared. The officers called you, but you didn't answer. Tommy came instead."

Joel's face paled, his eyes widening with shock and guilt. "I had no idea. My phone died, and I was out of town.”

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, but the hurt and anger you felt couldn’t be ignored. "You haven't talked to me in a week, Joel. I needed you, and you weren't there."

Joel's shoulders slumped, and he looked down, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know. I’ve been a fool, and I’m so sorry. I let my pride get in the way, and I hurt you because of it. Please, let me make it right."

You looked at him, and the regret was evident on his face. It mirrored your own feelings, and slowly, the anger began to melt away, replaced by a longing for things to be better. "I just needed you," you repeated, your voice trembling.

Joel took a step closer, his eyes filled with tears. "I'm here now. I promise, I’ll never let you down again.”

"You didn't seem to care about me for the last week, Joel."

"Lo—"

"Don't you dare call me that now. I'm mad at you," you interrupted, your eyes flashing with anger.

Joel looked stricken, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for the right words. "I know I messed up. I know I've been distant, and I'm so sorry. But please believe me, I do care about you more than anything."

You took a step back, needing space to think and process everything. "If you care so much, why did you ignore me? Why did you shut me out over missing dinner?"

His heart broke at the sight of you, staring away from him with dried tears on your cheeks. He didn't have words left to make this better, nor a way to ask for forgiveness or soothe your heart after breaking it without real intention behind it.

He was angry at you for missing the dinner, and he wanted to get it back at you.

But this? This wasn't what he wanted.

"I can't say how sorry I am," Joel continued, his voice cracking.

"Well, don't say it then," you snapped back.

"Love—"

“No! I'm tired, and everything hurts. My arm is broken, and I feel so humiliated right now. I just want to go to sleep,” you cried out, the words pouring out in a torrent of emotion.

"Okay, let me help you,” he said, reaching out to touch your shoulder, but you stepped back from him.

"No, everything you have done for the past week makes me cry," you said, the weight of your words hanging in the air. "You make me cry," you sobbed into your hand, trying to sweep the tears away.

Lifting your gaze, you looked at Joel, who seemed to be conflicted. His brown eyes, now glassy with unshed tears, almost made you give in.

"Could you please sleep in the guest room tonight?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel's face fell, but he nodded slowly, understanding the need for space. "Okay," he said softly. "I'll be in the guest room. If you need anything, anything at all, just call me."

You nodded, too drained to respond further. Joel hesitated for a moment, then turned and left the room, the weight of his footsteps heavy on the floor. As he reached the bedroom, he turned towards you.

“Do you want to know why I was so mad at you for missing that dinner?” He asked, his voice low and filled with a mix of regret and vulnerability.

You looked at him, the exhaustion and pain making it hard to process everything, but you nodded slightly, curious despite yourself.

Joel took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “It wasn’t just about the dinner. It was because I had planned to ask you to marry me that night.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with emotion. You stared at him, the weight of his confession taking a moment to sink in. You felt your heart beating so fast.

“Joel,” you started, your voice trembling. “I had no idea.”

“I know,” he said softly. “And that’s on me. I should have talked to you instead of shutting you out. I’ve been a fool, and I’m so sorry for everything.”

The revelation left you feeling even more conflicted. The pain of the past week, the accident, and now this. You didn’t know how to respond, so you simply nodded, feeling the tears welling up again.

Joel took a step back, giving you space, but not without planting a gentle kiss on your forehead, just next to the bandage. “Goodnight,” he said gently, before turning and walking to the guest room.

After that, you lay down, clutching Joel's pillow tightly against your chest, the familiar scent providing a small comfort amidst the chaos of your emotions. As you closed your eyes, the weight of the day slowly began to lift.

The night dragged on, each minute feeling like an eternity. You tossed and turned in bed, unable to find comfort. The weight of Joel's confession and the emotional turmoil of the past week kept you from sleeping peacefully. The silence of the house was deafening, and the pain in your arm felt almost secondary to the ache in your heart.

Around 3 a.m., unable to bear the loneliness any longer, you decided to go to the guest room. Moving slowly and carefully, you made your way down the hallway, each step mindful of your broken arm. The pain was a constant reminder of the day’s events, but the burning desire to be near Joel overpowered it.

You opened the guest room door quietly, the creak of the hinges making you wince slightly. Joel was lying on the bed, his back turned to you. You carefully slipped into the room, trying not to disturb him too much. The guest bed was slightly too small, but you managed to settle in beside him, positioning yourself so as not to jostle your arm too much.

Joel stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He blinked, his gaze shifting to you. Confusion and surprise crossed his face as he saw you lying next to him. He sat up, pushing himself on one elbow, his brow furrowed in concern.

“What are you doing here?” he asked softly, his voice still heavy with sleep.

You shifted slightly to face him, your voice barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t sleep... I needed to be close to you.”

Joel’s eyes softened, and he reached out carefully, his hand brushing against your cheek. “Are you okay? Does your arm hurt?”

“It hurts,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “But I just needed to be near you, to feel like everything might be okay.”

Joel nodded, understanding the depth of your need. “I’m sorry for everything,” he said again, though his tone was gentler this time. “I know I’ve hurt you, and I’ll do everything I can to make it right. Please, just let me be here for you.”

You reached out and took his hand, feeling curiosity creeping up. “About the proposal,” you began. “Are you planning to ask me soon?”

Joel's eyes softened, and he looked at you with a mixture of hope and vulnerability. “I was planning to ask you that night,” he admitted, his voice low and filled with regret. “But now I don’t feel like I deserve you.”

You searched his face, seeing the sincerity in his eyes.

Joel took a deep breath, his expression serious yet tender. “Now, I want to make sure we’re in a good place before I ask you. I want it to be right, and I don’t want to rush into it just to fix things. But I can’t deny that I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

You smiled softly in the darkness, your heart swelling with emotion. “I would love for you to ask me now,” you whispered.

Joel chuckled softly, a sound that was warm and comforting in the quiet of the night. “Even with the broken arm?” he asked, his voice light with affection.

You nodded, your smile widening. “Even with the broken arm, I know we have things to work through, but I’d still say yes.”

Joel’s laughter was gentle, filled with relief and affection. “You never cease to amaze me,” he said, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead. “Alright, then. I promise that when the time is right, I’ll ask you properly. For now, let’s focus on getting better and being here for each other.”

You nestled closer to him, feeling the comfort of his embrace. “I don’t need a fancy proposal in a fancy restaurant, Joel. I just want you,” you said softly.

Joel’s expression softened even more, his hand gently stroking your hair. “And you have me,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. “No matter what, I’m here for you. We’ll get through this together, and when the time is right, we’ll take the next step together too.”

You let out a small, playful sigh. “Okay, if there isn’t a ring on my breakfast tomorrow, I’ll be mad,” you joked, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Joel laughed softly, the sound a comforting balm to your troubled heart. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his tone light but warm.

He took a deep breath, his gaze steady and sincere. “So, would you like to marry me?” he asked softly, his eyes searching yours for a response.

The question hung in the air, tender and unexpected. You looked at him, your heart swelling with emotion. The warmth and love you felt in that moment made it clear that you were ready to take that next step.

With a smile that spoke of both relief and joy, you nodded. “Yes, Joel. I would love to marry you.”

Joel’s face lit up with a mixture of happiness and relief. He pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you with tenderness to avoid hurting your broken arm. “I’m so glad,” he murmured into your hair. “We’ll make it work, I promise.”

You snuggled closer to him, the sense of security and love filling you with a peaceful calm. As you closed your eyes, the laughter and playful banter gave way to a hopeful, contented sleep, wrapped in the warmth of his presence and the promise of a future together.

[stars-for-circe]

Hot To Go

Song inspo!! - HOTTOGO by Chappell Roan

Tags / cw: headcanons, cheerleader!reader x dropout!ellie, fluff, Highschool au, Ellie is older by 1 year, reader is in senior year, 90s era

Dropout!Ellie who always does her best to show up and be supportive of your cheerleading

She always makes sure to pick you up every Friday night after practice, long after the sun has set and dew had started to form on the cold grass field.

She makes sure to wait by her pickup truck in the parking lot, leaning against the drivers side door and listening to music on her walkman until you come over to meet her.

She always greets you with a kiss on the cheek and one of her jackets to keep you warm in your thin uniform - the smell of her wrapped around you makes you feel so cozy.

Dropout!Ellie who lets you hangout with her in the back of her truck after practice, eating the worst junk food known to man as you gossip about people from your school

You’re sitting in the back of her truck, cuddling her under a shared blanket as you share a greasy cheese pizza - your legs intertwined as you try to feed her a slice with her eyes closed, making you both giggle as she fails miserably.

While she dropped out a couple years ago, she was still in the grade above you, so you have some shared memories about school. There are certain people she knows about, but most of them that you gossip about are complete strangers.

“No fucking way, he still goes there? Dude’s like a super duper senior at this point!”

Dropout!Ellie who won’t let you go home without a proper goodbye, leading to giggly make out sessions in her truck as you both try to hide from the automatic nightlights in your driveway.

Dropout!Ellie who sneaks into your school to watch your routines during matches, and somehow never gets caught.

At this point, you’re 99% sure she’s bribing the office ladies not to rat her out because they still have a soft spot for her.

Ellie never fucking tells you when she’s gonna show up, so every single time it takes you by surprise when you see her hiding behind the bleachers and cheering you on as you balance at the top of the pyramid.

And every single time, you almost fall from how distracted you get.

Dropout!Ellie who tries to involve herself with your schoolwork and be helpful, but is the exact opposite of what she attempts to do.

You’re studying for finals at the park while Ellie swings upside down on some random tree branch, blasting rock so loud that you can hear it all the way on the bench.

All of a sudden you hear her run over to you, leaves crunching under her feet, and two heavy hands landing on your shoulders

“So whatcha doinggg??”

She immediately regrets asking, because now you’ve trapped her next to you and planted a massive textbook in front of her to help you study.

“Babe- I dropped out in grade ten there’s no way I can help with any of this shit-”

Secretly, she gets a little sad sometimes because she can’t connect with you about school or share classes with you since she dropped out.

Dropout!Ellie who tried doing your makeup once, and you never let her go near it again because of how bad it was.

“No- Ellie it’s meant to be sparkly on the inner corner-”

“Stop with the fucking medical terms and just let me-”

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO-”

You were 27 minutes late to practice that day because of how much Ellie insisted she do your makeup even though it wasn’t necessary.

You spent those 27 minutes desperately trying to wipe off the bright blue glitter she’d spread all the way up to your eyebrows.

Sometimes you still find pieces of glitter in your carpet from the whole fiasco.

You help her feel better, though, by letting her pick out which bows to put in your hair and which colours you can use for eyeshadow during games.

Dropout!Ellie who makes sure she’s always there with you during games, even when she can’t make it herself.

While you were busy getting dressed into your uniform, she was fiddling around with you pom-poms, eyeing all the pretty colours and sparkles.

She wanted to stay as long as she could until you had to leave for the game, because this time she couldn’t go with you.

But a sharpie on your desk caught her eye, and she suddenly had a small idea on what she could do.

And hours later, after the game, when you went to grab your stuff to leave, you noticed a tiny little black smudge on the handle of your pom-poms. And upon taking a closer look, a small smile made its way to your face after you saw your girlfriend’s faded initials hidden behind all the ribbons and plastic.

Dropout!Ellie who cannot wait for summer, when she can finally have you all to herself without school or practice or homework getting in the way.

Half of the summer you aren’t even sleeping at home. Instead, Ellie sneaks you out of the house and drives three hours into the middle of nowhere to look at the stars.

She puts up some blankets and pillows in the back of her truck, brings out a radio softly playing nirvana, and a Tupperware box of cookies she made to share as you lay in the back of her truck to stargaze.

She points out the bigger ones, and the ones making constellations to you as you wrap your arms around her and listen to her nerdy mumbling, slowly lulling you to sleep.

“See? That one there’s called Ursa Major. I uh, read it somewhere a while back in one of those astronomy books you got me.”

“…mhm…”

She giggles at your quiet chirps to her explanations as your slowly fall asleep, before pulling a blanket over you and lets you drift off under the stars.

And when you wake up - still outside in the back of her truck - resting on her now sleeping chest, you glance at Ellie and her resting expression. You watch how it becomes blanketed by the early morning sunrise, and you listen to how the radio is playing some indie country artist you couldn’t name.

And after a while, you decide that, despite the fact she’s a dropout and your a straight A cheerleader, and despair the fact that it is the most random pairing ever, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Taglist: @happysparklingshadows @irelandzo @r3starttt @iamaboringrattat @genderfluidlesbain999 @slut4mascss @rxreaqia @kylorey25 @massivepeacefemme @elliewilliamsfavborderhopper @ratdungeon @elxarw @mariasabanahabanabana @vvynia @abbyshands @littlegingerperson5 @flowersforvi

[loveshotzz]

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers

chapter one -

Late arrivals and big asks

A broken down car, a party at Reefer Rick’s, and a bandaid that needs to be ripped off.

warnings: 18+ drinking, smoking, lots of tension, some king!steve angst in the form of a flashback.

wc: 10.1k

series masterlist | series playlist

June - 

The air is sticky, thick with the kind of humidity only Indiana could have at 9:30 pm. An annoyed breath expands into your lungs as you lean against your car that refuses to do anything but sputter. Despite your irritation, your glossed lips twitch with the nostalgia that creeps into your heart because after all these years it still smells the same.

Crossing your arms, your eyes trail over the clear night sky not polluted with the kind of man-made smog that blankets the city and the stars shimmer like diamonds in its absence. The warmth of the overrun engine is still hot on your exposed calves, the light breeze making the bottom of your sundress dance across the tops of your thighs. White beams emerge, cutting through the dark at the top of the hill, followed by the roar only a tow truck can make, and this time, the smile you fought off before spreads wide across your face.

Robin.

Butterflies wake up in a frenzy deep in your gut, with nerves that twitch from your fingertips at the thought of finally getting to hug your best friend after months apart. You push off the side of your car as the truck approaches, eyes squinting to make out the second outline in the front cabin as it pulls over. You recognize the messy mane of hair that could only belong to Eddie Munson in the driver seat almost instantly and his dimple filled smile brings you back to memories you thought you’d long forgotten. 

“Well, well, well, would you look at what the cat dragged in!” Robin sticks her head out of the window with a wide grin as the big tires slow to a stop in front of your car, “are my eyes deceiving me or is my best friend in the entire world actually in Hawkins, Indiana right now?” 

The rasp in her voice sounds just like it does over the phone and despite the roll of your eyes, your cheeks hurt from how happy you are.

“Shut up, don’t act like you didn’t guilt me out here by saying the fate of your future depends on it.” Uncrossing your arms, you open them wide, “I made the ultimate sacrifice for you, so are you gonna hug me or not?”

Dramatic? Yes. But it works like a charm when she flings open the passenger door and charges at you in a mess of honey blond waves and freckles, almost tackling you with the force of her impact wrapping her arms around you.

Too distracted by Robin, you almost don’t notice the creak of the driver's side door or the filled out frame of the man that used to be a lanky teenage boy walking past as Eddie starts to attach your car to his truck. He’s taller than you remembered even bending down, and despite the navy blue coveralls, you can still see that his pale skin is littered with even more tattoos.

“I can’t believe my guilt trip worked!” Robin beams, finally letting you go, her whole body practically vibrating with excitement as she claps her ring clad hands together.

“I really can’t believe it either,” you laugh nervously, the reality of what it means to come back starting to set in after seeing just one familiar face, but this isn’t high school anymore and you’re definitely not the same person you were five years ago either.

“Thanks so much, Eddie,” you break the ice when he stands back up, and the sound of your voice has his big brown eyes warmed with gold light up just like his face when he turns his full attention onto you. Scruff filled dimples poking even bigger holes in his cheeks.

“It’s my pleasure, sweetheart, I almost didn’t believe Robin when she called me. I thought it was a prank.” He beckons you over with open arms, “now that I know it’s not, you have exactly 10 seconds to get over here and hug me before I change my mind.”

There’s zero hesitation about giving into his ‘demand’ and when your arms wrap around his waist, you’re brought back to afternoons in the woods behind the school with heavy lidded eyes and lopsided grins. 

“Your own auto shop, huh?” You smile up at him, pulling away, “Eddie Munson, the business owner.”

He rolls his eyes but the pink tint that colors in his cheeks tells you he appreciates the praise.

“Yeah, something like that.” He chuckles, “Got a soft spot for that old man in the trailer park, couldn’t bring myself to leave.”

Your heart warms at the fondness that drips from his ton. 

“Okay, as sweet as this little reunion is. You’re late, and we have a party to get to.” Robin interrupts snatching your keys out of your hand, dropping them in Eddie’s.

“A party?” You snap confused, and Eddie takes that as his queue to walk away with a knowing smirk.

“Yes, this is the summer of fun and reckless abandon, this is the last summer of our youth before we have to be adults. Do you understand me?” Her fingers are digging into your shoulders by the end of her rant, with the kind of look in her eyes that you’re absolutely going to have to revisit after a few weeks. 

“This is the part where I remind you that I graduated college last year.” 

Your best friend scoffs at you.

“Just humor me, okay? It’s your grand homecoming.” She pushes out her bottom lip, and makes her eyes big in a way she knows you can’t say no to.

“Fine.” You huff, making her finally let you go with the kind of pleased smirk that tells you she never thought she was going to lose to begin with.

“Great, it’s time to rip the bandaid off anyway.” Robin practically mumbles the last part turning on her heel to head back to the truck.

It takes a minute for her words to stick to your ears and their meaning to ring loud through your head, but when they do it feels like the air is stolen from your lungs. 

“Rip what bandaid off, Robin?!” 

It’s his name tightens in your chest but you refuse to say it, even after all this time it burns coming back up. 

“Since you had to drive for so long, I’ll sit in the middle because I’m just that good of a friend, you know?” She winks with a shit eating grin before pulling herself up and disappearing inside the cab of the truck, ignoring your question, like she’s not asking you to do the one thing you said you’d never do. 

See Steve Harrington again.

I tell myself, ‘draw the line.’

You wonder if Robin can feel the daggers you’re glaring into the back of her head as the two of you walk up the driveway to Rick’s house. Gravel crunching hard under your converse as you keep up with her black combat boots. She looks effortlessly cool in her high waisted jean shorts, and her oversized army green jacket covered in patches. You’d compliment her if you weren’t so mad.

“I can’t believe you guys still have parties here.” You scoff, making your sour attitude known, but your best friend ignores it with ease.

“I can’t believe you forgot to have fun. Don’t you live in the city?” Turning around with a smirk, she can’t help but laugh at the look on your face. 

She stops abruptly, almost making you run into her leaving you both just close enough to the party to hear the bass of the music spilling through the cracks in the windows. The low chatter of people echoes through the trees that surround you and bounce off the lake not that far away. The thought of hearing the calm baritone of his voice mixed in makes your chest tight with the kind of nerves that dare you to high tail it and run.

“It’s been five years.” Robin’s playful demeanor breaks and becomes pleading with a kind of desperation you’ve never seen from her before. “He’s not the person you knew in high school, I need you to understand that. You think I’d call someone like that my best friend?”

“Hey!-“ You object at the title, and it makes her lips twitch despite serious lines that crease her face.

“Stop, you know what I mean,” her painted fingers grab onto yours, squeezing them lightly, “please, just give him a chance. I’m not asking you to get back together or even be friends, just get along enough not to kill each other this summer. I can’t choose between you. I won’t.”

The genuine love she has for Steve is apparent in the way her ocean blue eyes threaten to drown you in their sincerity, and you can’t find it in yourself to say no to her. 

“Fine.” You accept your defeat in practically a whisper, but it makes your best friend squeal nonetheless. The giddiness from before coming back tenfold as she links arms with you, continuing your way up to the house. 

It’s just a summer, right?

The crowd gets bigger as more people start to come into view, between groups smoking cigarettes outside, couples arguing by cars, others making out against them. The smell of beer gets more pungent with each step, the atmosphere a stark contrast to the way the moon glows against the peaceful waters behind the madness of the house. 

Salt N Pepa’s ‘Push It’ plays loud enough for you to make out the words when you reach the front steps, walking through clouds of tobacco smoke to get to the unlocked door. The interior hasn’t changed at all since high school, the smell of stale lime and tequila stinging your nose. The bass of the music vibrates under your shoes as Robin unlinks her arms and you have to fight the urge to yank her back.

“Drinks or …Steve first?” She asks, her nerves about the situation finally showing themselves as she bites at her thumbnail. 

“Absolutely drinks! Is that a trick question?” You half whisper, half yell, looking around as if saying his name out loud might summon him.

“Okay! Okay!” Robin hisses, grabbing your wrist, leading you towards the familiar path to Rick’s kitchen.

Suddenly you wonder what your makeup looks like after a long day of traveling in your car, your fingers tugging at the bottom of your dress before adjusting the front of it so it sits just right. You itch to grab your lip gloss that’s tucked into the side of your bra, but you don’t want to deal with the look you’d get if you went for it.

Rounding the corner to the living room, your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach before you even have a chance to stop it when your eyes meet that messy head of chestnut hair, and a pair of hot pink nails tangled inside it. 

“Oh - I - god dammit.” Robin groans, when you're met with number two on your list, making out with a pretty blond on the couch.

Despite the years and distance, there’s still a sting that you feel in the corners of your eyes. It’s not enough for any tears to fall, there’s none left for him anymore, but it’s enough for the anger you’ve clung to since the day he broke your heart to boil hot under your skin. It singes the wings of the butterflies that try to take flight when you see the way his frame has filled out, how he’s somehow grown more handsome than the last time you saw him. 

Robin coughs, squeezing your wrist in reassurance.

“Hey, - uh, Steve.” The sound of his name catches his attention, long brown lashes fluttering open to reveal the deep coffee of his eyes that widen when they lock with yours for the first time in years. 

His lips pull from the blond’s with a loud smack, leaving a small trail of glitter on the side of his mouth that he tries to wipe away quickly with his wrist. Black ink you’ve never seen before looks bold on his tanned skin that glows like it’s been freshly kissed by the sun. 

His gaze wanders up and down your body like he’s unsure you’re actually real, and if it wasn’t for the obvious shock of your arrival and the way the color seems to drain from his face, you’d snap at him for the way it lingers over your curves. 

“Um, Robin, what the fuck?” The sound of his voice makes your heart skip a beat, and again when his hand drags through his hair just how you remembered.

“Surprise?” She shrugs, wincing when he scoffs loudly and the warmth that went missing floods his cheeks, turning them bright red. The blond next to him eyes you up while she clutches harder to his waist, and you can’t stop the rise of your brows and the giggle that bubbles past your lips because of it.

Steve’s head snaps towards you, something softening the moss that hides in his eyes when he hears the noise despite the sarcasm that drips from it, and you really get to look at him for the first time since high school graduation. 

God, you wish you could’ve had that drink. 

The jawline that always drove you mad is sharper, peppered with the kind of hardly there stubble that tells you he’s only missed one shaving day. A problem he never used to have, and somehow, it makes him all that much more attractive. 

His hair is a little messier than his carefully crafted look that used to take him a good forty five minutes every morning. It curls wildly at the ends now, tucking behind his ears and fanning along the nape of his freckled neck. It still looks as soft as you remember, though. 

His shoulders are broader, stretching the white cotton of his shirt tight enough across his chest that you can see the outline of a thick patch of hair that had only just started growing when you knew him last. The dark wash of his jeans makes them look almost black, fitting snug over his thighs, cuffed at the bottoms framing the tops of his boots.

Why couldn’t Steve Harrington just peak in high school like he was supposed to?

“So yeah, this is awkward.” Your best friend laughs nervously, “We’re going to get a drink or three because this scenario is by far the worst case and not the way this was supposed to go in my head, but anyway, look who’s here for the summer! We’ll talk later!��� 

Robin grabs your wrist before Steve can respond, pulling you back into the party and away from your ex-boyfriend while the realization of the summer you’ve foolishly agreed to hits you all at once. It turns your body weightless as the two of you weave in and out of the crowd. It tightens in your chest, the music turning muffled hitting your ear drums. Suddenly, you're not the woman who crossed state lines to the one place she said she’d never come back to, happily living the lie that you’d actually forgotten about him to be a good friend.

You’re the girl who let him keep you a secret, and you hate him for it.

Sneakers hit the sticky tile floor that hasn’t changed since 1984, the harsh lighting of the kitchen makes you both squint. It’s calmer than the rest of the house, just a few groups lingering off in the corners, too deep in conversation to care about you and Robin. Letting go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your ears start to pop too, Eddie Money’s Take Me Home Tonight coming through crystal clear.

“The band-aid might have been violently ripped off, but hey, it’s ripped off nonetheless.” Robin shrugs, finding the half-drunk bottle of tequila on the counter. “I think we should count this as a win and take a shot to celebrate.”

“A win?! Are you kidding me?!” You hiss, completely bewildered.

“Yes a win - oh no.” Her blue eyes go wide at whatever’s behind you, but it doesn’t take you long to figure out when that familiar spice and cedar of his cologne hits your nose.

“Right so, who’s going to let me know what’s going on?”

His voice comes out close enough to send your lashes fluttering, mimicking your heart. The nerves you’d just gotten over threaten to come back tenfold, but you manage to swallow them down just like in high school, turning around.

“I think it’s obvious what’s going on, Steve,”

It’s not as hard to say his name as you thought it would be, but it is hard to stare at his face from this close. Specifically, the two moles that dot his cheek that you always used to kiss, or the ones on his neck that you hate still taunt you for more. 

“I’m here for the summer.”

Steve Harrington had thought about this moment a lot, but Rick’s house was never the backdrop for it. His eyes take in the features you’ve not only grown into but somehow are even more beautiful than he remembers. Even if they’re twisted in a glare. 

“I meant, why didn’t I know until right now?” He manages to get out with a shake of his head narrowing his eyes at Robin, who’s too busy trying to find clean shot glasses to notice.

“Why would you need to know?” You snap, making a nervous hand card through his hair

“Cause I’ve, uh,  you know, I’ve asked about you a few times,” the last part comes out a little harsher, clearly directed at your best friend, who you know is actively ignoring you both now.

“Why? Why would you need to know anything about me?” Your hostility still shocks him even though he was expecting it. His eyebrows shoot up just like his hands in surrender. “Why didn’t you tell me, Robin?”

She groans loudly, slamming the tequila bottle down on the counter before turning around.

“You said you didn’t want to hear anything about him after you moved, why would I tell you he was asking about you?”

“Wait -“ Steve butts in this time, “seriously?”

“Oh my god, can you two shut the fuck up for a second and take these shots? You’re really putting a damper on the beginning of the best summer of our lives,” Robin snaps before waving a hand in front of three freshly poured shots.

It’s a struggle to tear your eyes from him, your body responding to his presence in a way that feels like it’s turning against you. It has you downing your shot in one quick motion before anyone else can even touch theirs. 

“Wow, okay.” Robin deadpans before shaking her head, wasting no time in following your lead.

“So we’re not cheersing anymore? Isn’t that bad luck?” Steve mutters, shoulder brushing against yours as he leans forward to grab his shot, the slightest touch enough to engulf your skin into flames.

A whole summer? Fuck.

“Robin, pour another one.” You rush with pinched brows as you try to move past the bitter sting of the alcohol going down your throat, taking a step toward her and away from him, you add “and we’ll cheers.”

You refuse to meet his gaze when you say it, but you can feel the intensity of it on the side of your face, begging you to break.

“Rob’s, how are you guys getting home?” Steve finally breaks, giving up his quiet fight for now, and you hate the way his nickname for her softens your heart.

“Huh, that’s a good question, I hadn’t thought that far yet.” She admits, over pouring so tequila splashes against the countertop, looking up at him with a mischievous grin.

“Seriously–

“RECKLESS ABANDON STEVEY!” Cutting him off, she downs her shot in his disapproving face.

“You didn’t cheers again.” Steve sighs, hands finding his hips as you whine an irritated, “We needed to cheers!” At the same time.

Your eyes meet his finally, his knowing smirk twisting the corners of your lips despite yourself. You blame the tequila starting to warm the blood in your veins.

“Well, you need to take yours then if we’re doing another one ‘the proper’ way, or it’s not going to be even.” Robin points at your drink in a silent challenge. 

You know how this game works.

“Fine.” You shrug, downing it with more ease than the last one.

“Oh my god. Stop! Do not pour another one before you answer my question, please!” Steve sounds exasperated, grabbing the bottle from her before she can disobey, “How are you getting home?” 

You try not to focus on how much larger his already big hands are now, or how small the bottle looks wrapped up in his palm compared to your best friends. The second shot takes the edge off your nerves in a way that your shoulders relax. Leaning against the counter, you cross your arms, watching the two of them bicker, catching Steve’s wandering gaze on your exposed legs while he tries his best to keep his focus on Robin. It boosts your ego in a way that has the anger hiding just under the surface go from a boil to a slow simmer.

“I don’t know Harrington, do you know anybody with a car?” She wiggles two thick brows at him, the second shot making her blue eyes glassy, and her smile a little more goofy.

“Why’d I know you were going to say that? And why did I know you were going to do this?” Steve sighs, letting her snatch the bottle out of his hand.

“What? Bring her to the party?” Robin snorts pointing a thumb in your direction, making you gasp.

“Robin!”

“No! What? No. But don’t think,” Steve clears his throat looking at you awkwardly before finishing a little quieter, “don’t think we’re not going to talk about this later.”

“I can still hear you.” You remind him with a sarcastic smirk.

“Yeah, I know you can. Look, I’ll DD for you because obviously tonight is, uhh,” he gestures to you with cheeks that grow pinker by the second, “a big deal. But you gotta stop doing this to me, I need you to get your license you’re out of colleg-”

“Shots! Steve’s driving us home!” Robin whoops loudly, and an irritated Steve pinches the bridge of his nose before walking away. 

Your eyes follow him out the door, shoulder blades flexing under cotton when he runs another hand through his hair before disappearing from sight. You try to push down the small pang of jealousy that makes a familiar home inside your chest remembering the blond girl waiting for him on the couch.

“Okay, okay,” Robin interrupts your inner struggle at the perfect time, sliding an overflowing shot over to you with a giggle that's contagious and it banishes Steve from your mind just like magic. “I’m not going to forget this time, promise.”

“I don’t think I can afford for you to forget again,” you smirk, raising your glass, tequila spilling over the tops of your fingers, “cheers!”

“Cheers!” 

You both down them at the same speed, slamming the empty glasses back onto the countertop with laughter that bounces off the walls and threatens to drown out the music. And for a second you think maybe you can actually do this.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” She squeals, throwing her arms around your neck, doing a terrible job of holding her weight up. Grabbing onto her waist, you do your best to steady her, “Look I just want to say while he’s gone, I know this isn’t easy for you, okay? I know.”

She hiccups before pulling away slightly to look at you as she finishes,“But It means so much to me, and I just wanna say I’m proud of you. I mean, who knows, you’ve changed, he’s changed-”

“Nope, no, you’re done. Where’s the weed? I wanna smoke some weed.” You push Robin away, rolling your eyes at the loud laugh your reaction gets from her.

There’s a long summer ahead of you, but right now, all you need is to find a joint and try not to think about your ex in the next room.

With a few more shots and a couple of hits from a blunt you and Robin you’d stumbled upon being passed amongst a group outside, you start to really feel like you’re back home. Nostalgia hits you hard in the gut as you walk through the crowded living room hand in hand with your best friend, giggling and stumbling back to the kitchen on the hunt for some food. 

“God, I’m so hungry!” Robin practically growls when you hit the harsh lighting again making you both hiss.

An empty bottle of tequila sits on the counter now and red solo cups litter the floor that weren’t there before, and a growing pile of bitten into limes cover the counters in a sticky mess. Alone and left to your own devices Robin begins to raid the cupboards, huffing when she finds nothing behind every door she aggressively yanks open.

“Why is his kitchen always so empty? Like? Do we just always miss the party?” You hiccup, tripping on a tile that’s coming out of the grout. 

You catch yourself on the kitchen island in front of you, a loud laugh bubbling up from your chest, too drunk to focus on how gross the formica feels under your fingertips.

“There’s literally nothing to eat in here, not even like an old bag of stale chips.” She opens the first cabinet one last time before slamming it shut, officially giving up with a thump of her forehead against the wood. “This is why he’s always at the diner.”

“Wait, Rick actually lives here still?” Another hiccup, you foolishly lean your elbows on the counter, something you’ll regret in the morning as you stare at your best friend with a toothy smile, completely unaffected by the news about the missing food that seems to be ruining her entire mood.

“How can he sell weed and not have any food in his house? What happens when he gets the munchies?!” She throws her hands up, ignoring your question and answering it all at the same time. “I’m gonna find a bathroom, and then we’re gonna find Steve - don’t make that face, he’ll take us through a drive-thru.”

“Don’t be gone long, I don’t know anyone here!” You whine with a childish drunk stomp of your foot, still sporting that sour look she told you to wipe off. The carefree girl from moments before now gone in the blink of an eye.

“Literally like five minutes, I swear!” She promises, turning around with a smirk as she crosses her heart with a ring covered finger like you used to do as kids, easily earning the smile from you she was hoping for.

You watch her disappear into the party, staring after bouncing honey waves until they’re out of your sight. 

Suddenly alone for the first time in hours, the kitchen feels quiet. The bass of the music is distant, and your thoughts are heavy just like your feet as your last shot of tequila settles with the rest. Your brain wanders to places that you thought you’d banished from the corners of your mind for years. It takes you to the pink fullness of his lips, and has you biting the bottom of yours. Then it’s the freckles that dot the bridge of his nose and explode across his cheeks, even leaving their mark on the bottom of his earlobe.

You’d found that one the night you’d tried to count them all. You never finished.

Then you remember the blond on the couch, and how her pink nails dug into the thick chestnut of his hair that you used to tug on when his kisses got to be too much. She turns into Nancy Wheeler and those stolen looks in the hallways at school, and suddenly, you hate him all over again.

“Jesus, you’re in here alone? Where’s Robin?” Steve’s voice makes you jump at the worst possible time, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scar-“

“Seriously?!” You snap, turning around with crossed arms. Leaning against the counter, you hope that you don’t seem as drunk as you are, but the way his lips twitch regardless of your attitude tells you that it’s not working. “She went to the bathroom and then was going to look for you.”

“So, it just makes sense for me to hang out here then, right?”Steve raises his hands in a silent plea for permission. 

His big boots take heavy steps towards you, and just like on cue, has your body betraying you. The plush dough of your thighs pressing harder together each time he gets closer to closing the gap. 

Cautiously taking the spot a few feet away from you, he keeps his hands up till he feels safe enough to shove them in his pockets. The spice of his cologne smells fresh, and you wonder if he sprayed it before walking in here. It overpowers everything else around you, invading your senses and committing itself to memory despite you.

“I um, I really hope this is okay to say,” he stammers watching the way one of your eyebrows arches up, and it doesn’t take long for his hand to escape from his pocket to run through his hair again, “but it’s, it’s good to see you. I m-missed you, Robin’s missed you.”

“Shouldn’t you be hanging out with your girlfriend?” You ignore him and tuck his words away to unpack another time with a sober mind.

“Cassie? She’s not my girlfriend.” He answers without any hesitation, something sparking alive inside the gold of his eyes that has one side of his mouth tugging up. 

“Does she know that?” 

“I’m pretty sure she does considering she left with another guy not that long ago.” He snorts, the confidence you’ve always known him to have finding its way back, and you don’t miss the way he scoots closer. 

So you scoot back.

“Sucks to suck, Harrington.” You sigh, impressed with how well you’re playing off the victory lap you’re shamefully running in your head at the new information.

“There you are!” Robin rushes in, face flushed and out of breath, interrupting the moment you weren’t ready to have yet at the perfect time “Somehow I got roped into like a keg stand and I think it’s really time for us to go home guys.”

“Robin!” 

“What?!”

She tries to shush you, but even you can see from across the room the way sweat starts to bead across her forehead, the blush in her cheeks going pale before she runs to the trash can. Steve pushes off the island without any hesitation, rushing to the other side of the kitchen, gathering her hair in his hands to hold it back.

“What were you thinking?” Steve scolds her in the softest way possible, rubbing her back as all the beer finds its way out of her body.  

Those big eyes of his that you’re sure are going to haunt your dreams meet yours, and in that moment the room decides it wants to spin. You’re not sure if it’s the night of tequila with nothing but a weed chaser catching up to you or if it’s the onslaught of feelings you’ve successfully suppressed for the last five years coming back to seek their revenge. The deadly combination of both comes to a head the more you watch the gentle way Steve handles Robin and it makes you realize it’s time to go.

You manage to pull yourself together enough to help Steve get Robin in his car, heart almost stopping when you walk up to the same Maroon BMW he took your virginity in. It takes everything inside of you not to abort the mission, run to Robin’s apartment by figuring your way through the woods you used to play in, do anything but sit in those leather seats. But your best friend’s drunk rambles of how happy she is to have her ‘two amigos and how that it makes three now’ while professing her undying love for both of you has you putting on a brave face, and then your big girl pants when you have to sit in the front seat next to him.

It’s in perfect condition, just like the morning he pulled into the parking lot Junior year with it. Your stomach twists in the kind of knots that have you wrapping your arms around your waist. The smell of leather and pine pulling on the back of your throat, and all the memories that come with it. He keeps the radio low, and you can hardly make out the faint sounds of whatever late night talk show was on over the soft snores of a passed out Robin in the backseat. 

“I thought you’d have a different car by now.” You grumble sinking further into your seat, keeping your eyes trained on the trees that zoom past your window.

“You’ll have to pry her from my cold, dead hands, honey.” Steve chuckles, relaxing a little more into his own, a big hand finding a new resting spot on the stick shift.

The endearment sends you reeling, the tequila making it hard to bite your tongue.

“Don’t call me that.” Quickly realizing that staring out the window does nothing to help your already dicey equilibrium, you decide to finally look at him, but you’re not sure if that’s any better.

‘What? Honey?” He asks, fully knowing the answer but egging you on just the same with a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Narrowing your eyes, you turn fully in your seat doing your best to ignore the way the street lights bounce off his sharp features as you face him.

“What? So you just make out with girls that you’re not dating and get away with it?” 

Steve snorts, licking his lips and meeting your angry gaze with an amused one. 

“I am twenty-four and single.”

Scoffing at his answer, you pause to collect your words that keep getting tangled on the tip of your tongue from too many drinks and how the whites of his teeth start to show in a grin as he glances in the rearview mirror to check on Robin.

“You think you can do whatever you want don’t you?”

“No -“

“What? Because you didn’t peak in high school like you were supposed to, you somehow just got hotter, you think the rules don’t apply to you or something?”

“Good to know you still think I’m hot.” Steve’s face cracks into a smile, turning into an apartment complex you’re assuming is Robin’s. 

“You’re the worst,” you try to deflect weakly, turning back in your seat with a huff.

“I definitely used to be,” he mumbles mostly to himself, putting the car in park, both of you jerking forward slightly. The sudden lack of movement makes Robin groan in the back, lashes fluttering open to look at her surroundings.

“Oh, thank god, I think I’m gonna be sick again.” Her throat sounds hoarse when she finally speaks, but it’s all she can manage before a dry heave has the boy next to you scrambling.

“Not in my car! Not in my car!” Steve’s quick to jump out of the driver's seat rushing to get your best friend out of the back, leaving you alone to fight with your seatbelt. 

Frustrated, you blow a breath out from between your pressed lips tugging on the smooth material while your thumb smashes the release button. It doesn’t budge and the cedar starts to pick at your nerves. An angry noise squeaks from the back of your throat catching Steve’s attention who finally gets Robin on her feet. The spice of his cologne swallows you whole when he emerges back into the car. Leaning over the console he’s gentle when he pushes your hand away. You don’t protest his help this time, eyes tracing the gold chain that slips out from under his shirt. It shimmers everytime it swings from his neck when it hits the moonlight, clicking the button with ease, releasing you from your self imposed trap.

“Thanks,” you grumble, using a wobbling arm to open your door, clambering out less gracefully than you intended.

“Are you good to follow me? I don’t think Robin’s gonna make it up the steps on her own.” Closing the car door, he leans over the top of it, his eyes watching the way you maneuver around his car like you’re walking on thin ice.

“I’m fine,” you growl, right as you lose your footing catching yourself with an open palm on the hood of his trunk.

“Seriously, I can help I just have to take you both one at a -“

“Steve, I said I’m fine. I don’t need anything from you.” You interrupt and if you weren’t so focused on putting one foot in front of the other, you’d see the way the harshness of your words make him wince.

He stares at you for a minute longer before muttering a quiet ‘whatever’ scooping Robin up and tucking her into his side. You follow them at your own pace up the cement steps to the second floor, thankful that her apartment isn’t too far from the landing when you get to the top. Your legs start to feel like Jell-O waiting for him to unlock the door, the long drive from New York and the night finally catching up to you in a way that makes your eyelids heavy as Steve pushes open her front door. 

“Bathroom! Bathroom!” Robin manages to get out when she and Steve cross the threshold first, a string of cuss words spilling out of his mouth as he tries to hurry her to the place she was begging to be taken to.

You use the full force of your weight with your back to the door, closing behind you with a loud slam. The navy blue couch in the middle of her living room begging you to sit down, an invitation your clumsy steps accept, leading you to the fluffy cushions. Collapsing onto them with a satisfied hum, you sink into the foam, lashes fluttering and eyelids getting heavier with each second that passes, and soon you find yourself giving in with a warm cheek pressed into the arm rest.

You don’t know how much time has passed when the feeling of your laces being tugged loose stirs you awake. Trying to focus with vision still blurry from sleep, Steve’s messy head of hair comes clear into your line of sight. Long fingers pull the white strings from the metal eyelets of your converse, a warm palm wrapping around your ankle that sends a shiver up your spine as he slowly wiggles your sneaker off your foot. The white tube socks that cover your feet make him smile with a thumb that dares to rub a small circle on your skin before dropping it to work on the other.

“Steve,” you manage to get out, voice still thick with sleep.

“I’m just tucking you in, that’s all hon- and then I’ll get out of your hair.” He clears his throat after the nickname that set you off earlier burns like acid dying on his tongue.

You grumble something unintelligible, rubbing the mascara off your eyes as he pulls your other shoe off the pad of his thumb doing the same thing to your other ankle making your toes curl. Both his hands find their way to your calves squeezing softly at the muscles before he starts to lift them up.

“Come on, let's get you laying on your side.” He coos, helping you adjust so you’re finally horizontal. You groan a little, reaching out for him on instinct, the softness of his touch making a very drunk you crave more. 

“I’d love to cuddle but I think you’d actually kill me in the morning,” he laughs to himself knowing you won’t remember any of this when you wake up.

You make some more noises that he can’t figure out if they're supposed to be words or not as he drapes Robin’s thick throw blanket over you. Grabbing the material in your fists when you feel it, you pull it even closer, a low satisfied hum spilling from between your lips that still sparkle with leftover glitter from your gloss. He watches the way you curl into yourself, fingers twitching at his side to run his knuckles over your cheek.

“Steve,” his name comes out clear as day, kicking up his heart rate.

“Yeah?” He squats down next to your face, the warmth of your breath hitting his face while your eyebrows furrow in your sleepy state trying to get whatever you want to say out.

“You really broke my heart, you know that?”

Your words punch the air out of his lungs, just like your unexpected arrival. Something he’s fantasized about happening more times than he’d like to admit.

“Yeah, I know.” He sighs defeated, giving into his urges for comfort with knuckles that brush against the warmth of your skin, a familiar burn stings his eyes when you subconsciously lean into it. 

You don’t say anything else to him, the furrow of your brows smoothing out as your face finally starts to relax under his touch. He watches the way your shoulders move with each deep breath that pulls you further into sleep and away from him. 

He takes a selfish minute to stare at you uninterrupted, tracing your cheekbone one last time before he stands up to leave, he knows he won’t get any sleep, and the words you won’t remember saying are already haunting him like a bad dream.

“Do you really wanna love me like you say you do? Give it to me like you say you do? Cause it’s hard enough you gotta treat me like this, lonely enough to let you treat me like this. Do you really love me?”

Steve was late, glancing down at pink the digital watch on your wrist, fifteen minutes late. Five lockers down from his, you wait for him at what’s been your meeting spot for the last eight months. Far away enough from his locker that no one would suspect you waiting for the King of Hawkins himself, but close enough to the janitor's closet for him to steal you away from sight without anyone noticing for the forty-five minutes of study hall. 

Hushed argumentative whispers catch your attention, nerves making your feet move from side to side unsure if you should abandon ship and just go and study for the final in your last period. Nancy Wheeler's eyes meet yours as she rounds the corner with her best friend Barb, the corners of her lips pulling up ever so slightly giving you a small wave which you return as she tries to ignore her friend.

“He’s just trying to get in your pants! Come on, you have to be smart enough to know that.” Barb points at the note Nancy is clutching in her hand so hard that the whites of her knuckles show.

“It’s not like that, I’m just tutoring him.” She argues but the blush that creeps across her cheeks and spreads down her neck gives her away.

I’m just tutoring him.

That simple sentence is enough for your world to tip off its axis, chest tightening at the realization of who they're arguing about. All the canceled plans the past few weeks with the excuse of extra tutoring starts to feel like a knife to the gut. Prince Charming rounds the corner holding and twists the handle with a bright flirtatious smile that used to be just for you, only now it’s flashed at the dainty brunette who melts under it because no one is immune to Steve Harrington. 

It takes him a minute to see you, too wrapped up in Nancy who’s back is pressed to the lockers, caged in by Steve’s big hand splayed against the metal by her head. They’re too far to hear what he’s saying to her, but the confident way his teeth flash and the sweet giggle he earns from it tells you everything you need to know. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing them fall. Fists clenched at your sides, the blunt ends of your nails dig into your palms as you hold in the sob that threatens to give you away as you walk past them, meeting his guilty eyes before you round the corner.  

The pounding in your head wakes you up before the sun that leaks through Robin’s small kitchen window. Your hangover rings in your ears with a vengeance, and has you letting out a pained groan. Everything after the joint you shared outside at the party is nothing but a blur, a scattered puzzle with pieces missing as you try and figure out how you ended up back home and tucked into the couch. 

“Are you alive out there?” Robin’s voice calls out weakly from down the hall in her room. 

“Barely,” you grumble, agitation kicking in from dehydration and the old wounds your dream decided to rip open.

“I’d say I’m never drinking again but we both know that’s a lie,” she says, muffled by what sounds like a pillow.

A giggle tries to escape, but it only makes you wince, clutching your forehead willing the pain to subside.

“How’d we even get home?” You croak, rubbing harshly at your eyes before attempting to sit up, covering them with a cupped palm as your surroundings get brighter.

“Steve,” Robin’s voice comes out right next to you, surprising you by appearing in the entryway. 

Hearing his name out loud sends the kind of rage that scorches through your veins, it burns from your fingertips remembering the look on his face when you broke up a few weeks after that day in the hallway your dreams so sweetly reminded you of. 

It was Pity.

Your best friend ignores your silence and the sour look on your face as you silently take a trip down memory lane while she shuffles into the living room wandering to the attached kitchen. 

“How far is Eddie’s shop from here?” You grimace watching her chug from a carton of orange juice.

“Oh, super close. You can walk from here.” She answers, wiping her upper lip with the back of your hand, “they opened like two hours ago, I’m sure he’s already looked at your car.”

“I think I’m going to shower and go over, do you want to come with me?” Raising your hands above your head, you stretch your sore muscles as a yawn comes out in the middle of your question.

“I think I need to rot in bed for a little while longer before I go walk amongst the living, I promise I’m all yours after I don’t feel like a freaking crypt keeper.” Your yawn is contagious, giving you a view of all her perfectly straight teeth.

“I demand something greasy for lunch when I get back then.” You point at her finding your footing on the carpet, noticing your converse are tucked nice and neat against the couch next to you. The feeling of Steve’s knuckles is a ghost against your skin, details starting to come out clear from the murky waters. 

Heat rushes to your cheek at the memory while your emotions start to go at war with each other over what to feel towards the man who tucked you and your best friend in last night, but also broke your heart in a way you don’t think you’ll ever quite forget. 

“I’m on it boss, god, I wish Benny’s was still open.” Robin interrupts the inner struggle she’s oblivious to you having as she walks past you flinging herself on the couch you’d just won the battle of leaving “But I’ll think of something good, I promise.”

Just like your yawn, the smile she gives you is contagious despite the sharp pain you get in your head from moving too much and you both laugh wincing when it only gets worse. 

Ibuprofen first, then your car.

Birds chirp loudly, mocking the headache that's turned into something more annoying than painful after a handful of ibuprofen. The sticky air is still suffocating even in a pair of black biker shorts and an oversized loose fitting tee, while the sun shines golden against the cerulean sky without a cloud in sight to hide you from its light. 

The heat warming off its rays makes beads of sweat start to collect at the crown of your head and the nape of your neck, while the incline Eddie’s spinning auto body sign sits on top of threatens to take your breath away. Unwanted thoughts of Steve Harrington keep your pace quick, stewing over the last twenty-four hours and everything it’s unraveled.

The small parking lot is empty when you reach it, kicking small rocks with the toe of your sneaker as you cross it. The double garage doors are open, Metallica’s Seek and Destroy echoing loudly, tugging up the corners of your lips. Your Chevrolet Caprice is the only car semi-lifted in the air with a pair navy coverall-clad legs underneath it.

Opening your mouth, Eddie’s name dies on your tongue before you get a chance to shout it, clocking him and his wild curls sitting in the glass office inside. Those big brown eyes meet yours from across the way, a dimple filled grin lighting up his face waving excitedly from his chair before standing up.

“Glad to see you’re alive, princess.” He teases stepping out of his glass case, with coveralls that are gray today.

“Honestly, it’s a miracle,” you laugh, confused eyes darting to the large boots under your car that don’t seem to have any reaction to the sound of your voice.

“Oh, I heard all about your first night back home. In fact my shop opened thirty minutes late because of it,” he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the open metal frame where the door should be. Faded bats that you remember when they were fresh dancing across his arm with his movements.

“Wait, what?” You ask, confusion pinching your brows together right as the mysterious pair of legs start pushing out whoever’s under your car.

“I didn’t get back to my place till almost four in the morning after getting you two home and in bed,” Steve emerges flashing you his million dollar smile as he sits up on the dolly, the sleeves of his own coveralls tied tight around his waist and hair wild like he’d just rolled out of bed, “I slept through my alarm.”

The immediate glare that hardens your face when you see him has Eddie's eyes light with obvious amusement. 

“What are you doing here? And why are you touching my car?” You snap, trying to push the worries about what you look like deep under the irritation and the distraction that begs to steal your anger with his arms on full display like this. Or how the patch of chest hair that peeks out the top of it shines with sweat. 

“I work here,” Steve snorts like it’s the most obvious conclusion, because, well, it is, “and I volunteered to look at it, Eddie’s got his hands full.” 

That was a lie, he begged him.

“Since when do you know anything about cars?” Snorting, your attitude makes him roll his eyes, pushing himself off the ground.

It’s a struggle to hold his gaze when he stands at full height, biceps flexing with his movements practically daring you to look. He pulls out a faded maroon rag from his pocket and starts wiping off the fresh black from his hands that’s already stained under his nail beds. The hard bottoms of his work boots making their way across the cement floors of the garage. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me anymore, that’s what happens when someone leaves for five years.” Steve antagonizes, his lack of sleep leaving him with thin patience.

He stops just close enough for you to smell how the woodsy spice of his cologne mixes with the sweet bitterness of the oil that seems to find a way to leave its mark on every surface in here. Including him.

“I’m going to finish balancing the books, why don’t you tell her the good news first and then the bad,” Eddie pours ice over the tension that threatens to boil over before it can turn hostile, catching the way both of your nostrils flare and shoulders square up.

“Wait, there’s good news and bad news?” Your focus on Steve shifts as Eddie’s words sink in.

“Like I said, I’m going to finish balancing the books.” The metal head reminds you, giving a half salute with two fingers while simultaneously shooting a stern look to Steve who’s mouthing something behind you. “Your mechanic’s going to go over everything with you, we can talk about pricing when it’s all said and done.”

“Seriously?” You bluster as Eddie shrugs with the kind of nonchalance that sends you reeling before sitting back down, tuning the dial-up on the radio in his office. End of discussion.

“Look -“

“How do I even know that you know what you’re talking about?” You interrupt, making his full lips set into a straight line.

“Are you going to be like this the whole time?” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before crossing his arms, the tops of his shoulders moving with them. 

A pleading expression softens his features instead of the hard combative one you were anticipating, and it helps your blood pressure return to normal. The realization hitting you that maybe skipping breakfast with a hangover probably wasn’t your smartest idea.

“N-no, sorry, I just feel like -“

“Shit? Yeah, I bet.” He chuckles, and your jaw clicks. Maybe if you count to three…

“Just tell me what’s wrong with my car, Steve.” It comes out clipped, but it's an improvement from your fingers twitching to rip that handsome head right off those shoulders that won’t stop trying to distract you.

“How about you tell me the last time you had your oil changed?” He counters, taking a few steps back to sit on the hood of the rusted baby blue Buick behind him. 

“Uhh, I- I think,” All the blood rushes to your cheeks, warming your skin as you try to wrack your brain and not focus on the way his legs spread wide to keep his balance. “Maybe, like, six months ago.”

“Six months?!” The number must be worse than whatever Steve was preparing for when a dirty hand runs through his hair, “and then you drove it three states to get here?”

“Yeah, I - I mean, hearing you say it out loud,” you grimace thinking of all the weeks you ignored that flashing orange light on your dashboard.

“So then you shouldn’t be surprised when I tell you that your engine locked up.” 

“Is this the bad news?” 

“Kind of,”

“What do you mean kind of?”

“Look, the good news is that I can fix it, the bad news is that I have to order a few parts that could take up to three weeks to get here, then the job itself is going to take me probably another week.” He sighs standing up, starting back towards your car with you quick on his heels.

“That’s the whole summer!” You argue like it could possibly make a difference, frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes watching him pop open the hood.

“More like half of it, but hey, you’re lucky I can even get it running again without having to replace the whole thing.” He meets your gaze from under his lashes leaning over the engine, long nimble fingers unscrewing the cap where your oil should go.

“So what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to get around?” You know that part isn’t his problem, this entire mess is your own doing but it doesn’t stop it coming out in a whine. You blame your hangover.

“You’re gonna be just fine, city girl,” Steve grins up at you before reaching even further under the hood, muscles flexing with him, “besides we both know I can’t say no to Robin.”

He pulls at a small tube that’s purpose is unknown to you but you keep eyes trained on his movements like you have an idea, anything to keep the focus off the gold chain that dangles from his neck. 

“Or you.” The last part comes out so quiet, a focused look pinching his brows together as he continues his investigation.

“Me?” 

He doesn’t look at you when he shrugs, pulling at something with a little more force that makes you both flinch. 

“How much is this going to cost me, Steve?” Your defeat shows in your tone, as the question slips quietly from between your lips that you wish you’d have put gloss on now.

He grunts at the same time something pops against metal under his hands, muttering a string of curse words under his breath before standing back up wiping his palms on the white cotton of his tank top. Charcoal stains fill the small grooves in the fabric with each swipe of his hands, pulling the collar further down every time. It’s a losing battle not to look at his chest when every motion reveals more of the thick curls underneath. 

Steve clears his throat, letting you know that you’ve been caught and it’s at this moment you wish you could walk in front of the moving truck that drives loudly past the shop, only exaggerating the silence that follows.

“Don’t stress about that today,” he smiles, letting you off the hook for now, something mischievous dancing in his eyes for another time. “Like Eddie said, we’ll figure it out.”

“Don’t stress about it?! Have you met me?” You huff, the money you’ve saved up for the summer starting to dwindle right before your eyes. 

“I have actually,” Steve chuckles, stepping close enough for the tips of your shoes to touch his boots. He feels bold when you don’t make any attempt to move away like at the party or retreat when he closes the gap. A thumb and forefinger finding their way to your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, “and you’re going to be fine, I promise.”

Your lips part on their own, the full force of his face from this close stealing the breath from your lungs. You can smell the coffee he had this morning and the mint from his toothpaste still lingering on his breath. The stubble that lines his sharp jaw is even more noticeable today, tapering off at the top of his neck making the cluster of moles that live there stand out even more. A pink tongue runs over his full bottom lip and it has your lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks.

“Now go get some food, grumpy,” his voice comes out low, a teasing edge to it that reminds you of what it’s like to have Steve Harrington flirt with you. “I’ll call when I get the parts, okay?”

It’s like detention junior year all over again as you turn into putty in his hand. Still too attractive for his own good, all you can do is nod while all the fight you had left inside you disappears as the pad of his thumb swipes soft against your heated skin just under your pouted lip before letting you go. He turns on his heel after that, walking back to the box of tools he has spread out over his workbench before adding,

“Do me a favor and tell Robin she owes me a new shirt.”

beta’d by @sweetsweetjellybean

🌻 chapter two

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tyler owens x gn reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.39k | part 2

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: not communicating and not talking about your feelings (not miscommunication since you don't even communicate)

☾⋆☆⋆☽

There's too many beds.

The one night where you guys don't manage to make it to a motel, there's too many damn beds.

The camper van can fit pretty much all of you at once, not that the seven of you will do that anyway. Dani and Dexter have claim on it, as the drivers, and will probably accept two more comfortably.

In Lilly's van there's the backseat and the floor, but if we're counting, for how many beds there are by technicality, the two front seats as well.

You always have tents and sleeping bags around too, just in case you guys can't drive everyone from any recently unfortunate communities to the nearest hotel (although you'd certainly try). To give a rough estimate, about a dozen tents?

Then there's Tyler's truck, the two front seats and the back seat, and the truck bed. It's a bit short, but it can fit plenty people curled up.

So what to choose?

You should probably stay in a car. Much more heat that way, but who's gonna take you in? The designated drivers obviously prefer their own cars, so... Dexter's campervan is pretty spacious? Then again, so's Lilly's, and to be honest she's more of a vibe than the other two, but also why would you need vibes if you're just sleeping?

Maybe you should start a fire, huddle around that? No, that's a hazard, nevermind the fact you only know how to start a fire in theory.

Let's stick to a car, then. Lilly or Dex & Dan for space... Lilly, sure, why not?

As you start heading over to Lilly's van, you hear a sharp whistle. You don't have time to wonder who it's from, as Tyler spins you around.

"You're coming with me." He proclaims, taking you by the shoulders, and you can only laugh.

"Why me?"

Tyler grins, walking you unceremoniously towards his truck bed. "Because you're you, dove." That alone sounds rather intimate, so he fixes his mistake quickly. You're just friends, after all. "And Boone kicks people in his sleep, Lilly's hair gets everywhere, Dani steals the blankets, Dexter snores, and Ben...it's pitiful how he squeezes himself into the corner whenever he's sleeping next to someone, so we always give him his own space."

Right, all good points you'd forgotten.

"So why exactly am I better?" You tease, stopping in your tracks so Tyler bumps into your back and stay close.

"You're warm." And at first it seems like that's the only thing he'll say, your only benefit, as he pauses; but then the rest comes spilling out like a toad strangler. "You're also soft, you don't steal the blanket, you don't complain when I suddenly start talking and you don't snore."

Tyler doesn't mention that the two of you cuddle when you bunk together, and that you bunk together often. He doesn't mention how tonight he'll let you cuddle up on his chest, or perhaps how he'll press his nose against yours and let you play with his hair, because simply mentioning it will mean you'll have to talk about it.

You don't want to talk about, you think; and neither does he. You don't want to talk about how there's something different with the way he slings his arm around your shoulder, or the way you knock your head against his, or how he always gives out your share of whatever (pizza, cookies, etc.) before anyone else, or how you always offer your help to him no matter what.

They're always easy things to ignore, his skinship is not conditional and neither is your kindness, but there's something about the way you look into his eyes when you say thank you, and something about the way his touch lingers.

You don't want to put your finger on it, at least not this season. You'll say it again the next season, and the next, but you ignore that.

"So then I'm your favorite person?" You turn around and bonk your fist against his chest.

He whistles again, drawn-out like he does in awkward moments, but you know it's only playful. "Don't push your luck, dove. You're like... top 5!"

"Top 5? Aww," You feign offense, plopping your hand over your own chest now, "I didn't make it to top 3?"

He splays out his hand and begins to count on his fingers. "There's my mom, then my dad, then the family dog, Liam from the rodeo, and then you."

"The family dog?" Your eyebrows furrow, and the acting seems a bit too real until the look on your face gives away to a memory of his dog giving you kisses. "Oh, yeah, okay. I get it."

"See? You get it." Tyler chuckles, spins you back around and keeps on walking.

The spot you guys picked today is drier than the last, which is something you're thankful for. It's quite far from any town, but the streetlights that adorn the far off road make you feel a bit safer that civilization is just around the corner. There's a light breeze, not too cold and not too fast, and the stars! Oh, the stars.

They're damn nice out here cause they're actually visible tonight, a little less light pollution, you think. It's certainly a lot brighter than, say, NYC or Washington.

"Ain't they pretty today?" Tyler comments, his hands on your shoulders squeezing.

"Yeah. Sparkly too. You know any constellations?"

"No," He hums, his voice holding a bit of lament. "I tried, once. I tried taking a class in college. Astrology."

"How'd that go?" You ask offhandedly, hopping onto the bed of the truck.

"Ended up being too stressed with my main curriculum and dropped the class before it got too far." He fixes a tarp over the top of the truck bed, over the exoskeleton, so not much light will shine over your eyes when you try to sleep.

"The smart Tyler Owens got too stressed?" You ask as you help him up.

"Being smart doesn't mean I have good time management." Tyler says as he sits next to you, and you shrug. Suppose he's right.

"Still pretty though." You hum, leaning your head against his shoulder as you look up.

"Yeah." He agrees. His arm comes to wrap around you naturally, running up and down your side. "Have you ever tried to come up with constellations with... I don't know, whoever you were looking at the sky with?"

"You know what? I don't think so." You raise a finger, tracing a path in the stars for a moment, trying to find something interesting.

He finds one before you, pointing at a group of stars in a weird glob shape. "There, a cloud!"

That alone gets you to let out an ugly, surprised laugh; despite how ugly you might've thought it to be, he thinks it's cute. "You trynna cloudgaze with stars, cowboy?"

"Shut up." He laughs, knocking his head against yours. "You try, genius."

After a couple seconds, you point out a distinct...cone shape in the sky. "Unicorn horn."

"Unicorn horn?"

"What am I supposed to say, cone?"

"You could've said ice cream cone, a little more age appropriate, you know?" He holds out his hand, holding out a small gap between his index and thumb fingers to accentuate little.

"Yeah, well it has no ice cream, dumbass."

"Woah," Tyler withdraws, raising his hands in surrender. "no need to get so defensive, dove."

You slap his hands only to draw them back around you. He has no complaints about that. "Clearly we both suck at this. Let's just admire the stars normally."

He huffs out a laugh but turns his gaze back to the night sky without complaint. It's rather peaceful, this moment, and so nice. Maybe it's not rare that you get comfortably quiet moments with him, nor is it ever rare for Tyler to hold you close like this, but it doesn't make it any less endearing.

"Look!" Tyler breaks the silence suddenly, finger tracing a path in the stars. "A heart."

"You're kidding." You huff out. He's just playing with you, he has to be, especially after your miserable attempts at finding shapes in the sky.

Despite yourself, your eyes will the stars above you into the shape of a heart. Goddamnit, you think, because it's definitely a sign.

"I'm going to sleep." You tear yourself away from his grip and he laughs and tries to steal you back to him, but you fight briefly and end up winning. It's a nice victory, especially because you won over him, but it's not on par with actually finding something in the sky (and you're avoiding the sign).

Tyler chases after you, flopping down beside you. The tarp above casts darkness over the back of the truck bed, but a soft glow still shines through.

You sigh and tuck a hair of Tyler's behind his ear, to which he only laughs. "Jealous, much?"

"Oh, totally." You'd roll your eyes, but they're stuck on his.

"I won." He's triumphant, but you can only focus on how pretty his smile looks.

"You did." You reply, not fighting him on it, and slowly his amusement fades away with the deflation of his body.

"You're not making this fun." Tyler steals your hand, presses the back of it to his lips and notably does not pucker up and kiss. It might be payback, or it might be avoiding the obvious intimacy that kissing you is.

"It wasn't a competition, anyway." You remind him, and he rolls his eyes.

His attitude eventually exudes out of him with a sigh, and he lets go of your hand to push closer. His head rests below your chin, his nose against your neck, and it's not new, but it's not old either.

"I'm sick n' tired of you." He huffs against your neck as you take the opportunity to tuck the both of you in.

You hold back a laugh. "Oh, yeah? Tell me why."

His voice is muffled against your neck, and maybe the vibrations tickle, but you don't dare move away. "I won! We should be celebrating that."

"Celebrate it in your dreams." Despite it being practically the same thing as in your dreams, it actually sounds quite genuine.

"Don't be like that," Tyler whines. "let me stay up for a little while."

You put your hand in his hair, then, twirling strands around your fingers and scratching his scalp, and Tyler hates you and also loves you, because it feels so good that it pulls a groan out of him, but it's lulling him to sleep.

"You're cheating." He whines again. He's being rather childish, huh?

"It's way past your bedtime." You say in a sing-songy way. Curiosity takes over, and you pull his head away from you gently to look into his eyes.

They open once you pull him off you, just barely. Half-lidded, not by lust, but by sleep. "I just wanna hold you for a little while longer." He says, and you don't know how he does it, but his eyes have turned pleading.

"That's on you to try, cowboy." You huddle close again, allowing him to take up the same position as before.

Despite himself, Tyler sighs contently, wrapping his arms around your midriff. One of your hands is on his back, rubbing slow circles, and the other is back on his hair.

He's definitely not going to last long now.

"When's the last time you've ridden a horse?" Tyler babbles on to try to keep awake, but you can hear the sleepy lilt in his voice. "I think my last time was when I last visited home, before the season started."

"One sheep over the fence, two sheep over the fence–"

"Shuddup."

You laugh, hands smoothing over his hair again. You're not sure how you're not very sleepy right now, tucked under the blankets, in his warm hold. Maybe it's the subconscious thought of not accidentally hitting your head on the spare wheel above you, or the faraway feel of the ridges of the truck bed below you.

Or maybe it's wanting to tease him.

"Kiss me."

"What?"

You've kissed before, little playful things: cheek kisses for the camera, neck kisses to either scare you or tickle you, forehead kisses after particularly dangerous scares, hand kisses when he's trying to act all gentlemanly, temple kisses after hugs. You've never kissed him on the lips before, and actually, neither of you have ever explicitly asked for a kiss. They've always been given without question.

"Please?" He asks again, pulling back so that his forehead is off your neck.

Oh, he only wanted a forehead kiss.

You oblige happily, press your lips against his forehead and let out and exaggerated muah!

"No, not there." He pulls away almost entirely, scooting up to be face to face.

You'd laugh, if what he was asking you for wasn't a kiss on the lips. You can't lie, you've thought about it before, when the sun shines a particular way over his face at sunset, or when he's considerably too hot to ignore.

...you're going to have to talk about this tomorrow.

Except tomorrow is not today yet, and so you cup his cheek. You debate it for a moment, a yes or a no, but there's one answer clear in your mind, a yes.

You press your lips against his, and it's more subtle than that forehead kiss, and it feels so much more tangible, in a way. His lips move against yours, a languid thing, a soft thing.

You wonder if he's going to remember this tomorrow, if being as sleepy as this is equivalent to being drunk.

"Thank you." Tyler says as you part, and he settles back where he was, head against your neck. He seems satisfied now, willing to nod off.

"Don't mention it." You say automatically.

Okay you're definitely going to have to talk about this tomorrow. For now, though, you'll just hold him. It's a strange thing to say, but he's always been rather nice to hold, a big man to fill your entire hug, even if he does make your heartbeat spike.

"Goodnight." He says.

"Sweet dreams." You reply.

There's nothing else to think about but the feeling of him in your arms and the warmth of his body as your eyes draw closed.

[tojipie]

thinking very hard about truck driver toji !

passing mention of sex but no actual nsfw content !

────────────────────────

lugging cargo across the country is no joke, with individual jobs spanning weeks at a time. fortunately, toji somehow ended up with you to keep him busy, his forever passenger princess.

a blurry picture of you two taken on a disposable camera hangs on the dash mirror. the shot is encased in a clear frame and strung up by beaded thread. you’re holding the camera towards the two of you, blowing a kiss towards the lense as toji stands with his arm slung around your shoulders. he’s smiling, a marlboro red pinched between his molars.

toji tries not to smoke in front of you most of the time, opting to pull over at a weigh-in station when his hands start to shake. he’ll kick the same pebble around while you stretch behind the truck, waving at the occasional biker.

it’s rare that men in his profession have anyone to spend the drive with, toji makes the most of it. the older man uses your little stowaway situation as an excuse to take you all across the country, picking up little keychains and stickers for you at every gas station the two of you visit. it’s hard to keep busy when all there is to do is pump gas and fuck, but you’re content with the little dynamic you have.

he’ll pull into a rest stop every time he starts feeling tired, dragging you into the driver’s side seat so he can cradle you in his arms like a little teddy bear. real sleep is done in the truck cab, under a weighted blanket he’d picked up at a strip mall in the mountains.

your “bedroom”, or the truck cab really, is a modest little room behind where the driver’s compartment is. toji tore out the twin sized mattress 2 weeks into your little arrangement, replacing it with a queen sized memory foam one. “a good investment” he called it.

you two rarely if ever sleep in there though. opting for the comfort of a hotel room over the glorified backseat of a sleeping arrangement his truck has. toji can afford it, that much is obvious from how much he spends on room service per week. the man had taught you that a truck driver’s salary was more than enough to keep a girl happy, and with how much you two had been on the road, he was easily reaching the 6-figure mark.

most people would get sick of being forced to spend so much quality time with each other. you never will.

you’ll never get tired of waking up in a different place every morning, spending hours exploring new cities with your favorite boy. you’ll never get tired the way you learn something new about him everyday. a new detail about the family he grew up with, a beauty mark you never noticed on his back, the way his nose scrunches when you say something funny.

you’ll never get tired of the way he stalks up to you after every other rest stop visit, hands clasped behind his back as he prepares to surprise you with whatever trinket he just bought you. and you’ll never regret your decision to be his permanent little sidekick, experiencing every day right alongside him.

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a/n: hii ! i rly rly love this au hehe, i might even like it more than prisoner toji. lmk if this should be a series, and feel free to send in related asks if u want :D

[compact-turtle]

Yandere Farmer character x GN reader 

Concept: Yandere Farmer x GN reader 

Tw: Delusional Yandere, Age-gap?, Obsessive, Possessive PART 2 <-

-Yandere Farmer who lives alone on a farm.  There was no one to comfort him, make him any meals, or lay in bed with. It hadn’t dawned on him how much he desired a family. 

-A cute little spouse who would stay home and greet him with a kiss. They’d whisper sweet words as they threw their arms around his neck. Children that would run to his side after a long day. 

-Yandere Farmer who opens the door to three college students. They’re all standing on his porch eagerly asking if they can stay the night. They explain that their car died on the road. Honestly, he doesn’t give a shit.  He’s about to kick them off his property until they offer him money. 

-Yandere Farmer who reluctantly lets them in. He tells them they can figure out sleeping arrangements in the living room. He’s about to go to bed when one of the students stops him. They ask for a favor. Their stubborn friend refused to follow them and insisted on sleeping in the car. They ask for him to pick up their friend. 

-And he’s about to decline the favor. Until they offer some more cash incentives. He groans internally but hops into his red pickup truck. His trusty revolver is strapped onto his side. However, he deploys his two guard dogs to watch the house before he leaves. 

-He drives down the road until he spots an abandoned car. He gets out of the truck with his flashlight.

- Slowly, he approaches the car windows. He shines a light inside and his heart skips a beat. There you are fast asleep tucked in with a blanket.

- The moonlight shines over your face as you snuggle deeper into the blanket. You were the prettiest thing he'd seen in a long time. 

-You were so vulnerable.  What if he was a bad guy? It would be so easy to take advantage of you. Good thing he stumbled upon you instead of some creep. 

-It feels like hours as he simply stares at your face. You look like a fairy who descended upon earth. He felt wrong waking you up from such a peaceful slumber. Yet, it’d be much safer in his arms at his house rather than this dingy car. 

“Ay, Wake up.” 

-He watches as your eyes begin to open in confusion. You look around until he knocks on the window. Your eyes dart up and go wide. Just like a deer caught in the headlights. 

-He explains the situation then insists you get into his car. You reply that you’d rather spend the night in the car. You don’t want to trouble him. 

-How sweet. You think you have a choice. 

-In the end, you were forced into his pickup truck. He threw your luggage in the trunk then slid in the driver seat. The car choked to life as he shifted it into drive. The atmosphere was tense. 

-You’re silent. He’s silent. 

- Yandere Farmer who doesn’t know what to talk about. He doesn’t have much experience interacting with other people. He grew up mainly isolated with overbearing parents who were abusive. (Good thing he fixed that problem though)

-However, his gruff voice breaks the uncomfortable tension between you two.

“What’s yer name?” 

“Y/n” You answered back meekly. 

“Got a loverboy waiting for you?”

-You shake your head. He listens to how you mentioned that you’ve never been in a relationship.  

-Good.

[baddiewiththebook]

ONE OF THE BOYS [PART 3]

-> While you pine hopelessly over your best friend, Eddie Munson. You hear the sentiment 'one of the boys' one too many times and you've decided to change that. All in the name of the one boy who won't even look at you, or so you think.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language and suggestive themes [no smut]

-> a/n Oh, my god. When I tell y’all that everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong. I stayed up all night writing and editing just to get it out today, so you don’t have to wait another week when I’m off from work again. Yesterday, I was going to surprise y’all with a back to back upload, but when my laptop died and all of my content got deleted, I needed a pause. Anyway, I hope you enjoy Part 3 of a series I didn’t know would become a series.

[Part 2] Part 3

-> <-

You decide to wake up at five because your eyes wouldn’t stay shut any longer. Ripping the blankets off your body, the cool air nips at your skin. You shove your toes into your slippers. Tripping over your tennis shoes, you rethink how close you are to your desk. Feeling around for the corner, you find the desk and you begin to aim yourself the other way. You yelp when your waist collides into the doorknob and you silently curse to yourself while trying desperately not to wake your family. Shuffling through the dark, you take mini steps to your bathroom.

Closing the door behind you, you flick on bathroom light. Squinting, your eyes adjust and the shock of the bright room dulls. You use the toilet first, before your bladder combusts. While washing your hands, you meet your own face in the mirror.

Mornings weren’t your best look. Your hair mats to one side because you’re a side sleeper. Sometimes when your sick you’ll lay on your back to keep your stomach from getting nauseous. Instead of drying your hands on a towel, you toss them back into your hair to mold and shape what’s on your head. Massaging your scalp, you forget your worries for a moment. You wash your hands of the hair that sticks to your hands, and then you dry them off.

You bounce back from the shower when you twist the hot water handle. Water splashes in your face anyway. Steam breathes into your bathroom and you almost feel suffocated by the hot air. That’s what wakes you up in the morning. You strip, then step inside allowing the beads of hot water to bake your skin. The soap you use is plain and boring. It moisturizes the layers of your skin without leaving a scent behind. You watch the bubbles drain below you.

Leaving the shower is harder to you then getting back in. Your day will begin as soon as you step out. Going to school feels like a chore. Your classes all have projects due by the end of the week or by the end of the month. Then there’s the obvious boy you are trying to avoid. Before you can imagine any lewd situations between yourself and him (and trust that you have plenty), you switch off the water to your shower.

You don’t like washing your face in hot water, so you wait until your dry and you have a towel wrapped around your body. The icy water pricks at your pores. You dry, and you apply a thick layer of moisturizer to your skin.

Finding yourself vulnerable in a towel, and thrown into darkness once again because you have forgotten your clothes in your bedroom, you shimmy across the hallway once again.

When you choose a lotion, you act as though you won’t pick the same option you have been for as long as you can remember. The label reads ‘Fruity.’ Simple enough. Throwing on an extra spritz of perfume to compliment the lotion. You like to spray perfume while you’re bare to ensure the smell sticks to you, rather than your clothes.

Wrapping yourself in your robe, you want to take a peak at the sky. Rain clouds form above. Gray all day. You happen to, also, see that Eddie’s trailer is dark. Wayne Munson’s truck is on, and he’s in the driver’s seat waiting for the engine to warm. He goes to work early, and he stays late. That’s how you got to spend so many days and nights at Eddie’s growing up.

You’d tell your mom that you were spending the night with your friend Robin, and she would cover for you in a heartbeat. She must have known what was going on before you did. Did that even count - if you didn’t know?

You shy away from the window.

Going through your closet, you find an acceptable pair of denim that’s right on your hips and loose at your ankles. The striped sweater you call your favorite will scratch at you skin all day, so you put on a plain shirt on underneath.

If the you from a few months ago, saw you sitting at your desk whipping out all of the tools and the sponges that it took to apply makeup to your skin, you’d shrivel in a corner and cry. You got used to the feeling of the brushes against your skin. The way your face feels with a bit of foundation. And the sticky feeling of mascara pressing on your eyes.

As you finish powdering your nose, your stomach growls. Your hungry.

The sun is beginning to wake, and you’re able to move through the home a bit smoother. You find yourself in the kitchen pawing through the refrigerator. No one has gone grocery shopping in a few weeks, so your options are limited.

You take the box of Honey Comb cereal off the top of the fridge. A bowl off the drying rack will do, and there’s even a spoon next to it. You pluck out your mom’s cigarettes that she “hides” inside the box. She doesn’t count them when she smokes, so you know that you can sneak one into your pocket for later.

After pouring yourself a bowl of cereal, and stealing your mom’s cigarettes, you grab the milk from the fridge. It’s heavy. When you open the milk the rancid sour odor spoils your appetite.

“Jesus!” You curse.

The expiration reads about a week ago. Gross.

You toss the milk.

Even though you’re completely grossed out, you shovel a few bites of dry cereal down your throat. Dipping your head under the sink for a drink of water, you slurp down the crumbs sticking to the sides of your mouth.

By the time you’ve brushed your teeth, your watch reads seven fifteen in the morning. If you head to school now, you’ll be there by seven thirty.

That’s exactly what you do.

The drive is quiet. Most of the town hasn’t woken yet for their day. Shops still have signs in their window that read ‘Closed.’

You’re allowed into the cafeteria with the other early birds once you get to school. Finding a group of girls you’re in home room with, they welcome you for a study session.

“You look so pretty,” Michelle gushes over your makeup.

You smile. “You too. I love your shirt.”

“I got it on sale,” she tells you the name of the store. “We should all go shopping on Saturday.”

“Girls day out!” Lisa snaps her fingers. “Count! Me! In!”

The three of you small chat for a bit, before you dive into your awaiting assignments. They’re there to help you. You reciprocate the action when they want advise.

The school bell rings.

You pack up, and you wave goodbye for now. But, you’ll see them again in just a few moments when you get to class.

Heading to your locker for the first time in months, you have to try the code twice. The third time’s the charm. You take the specimen in your locker between your index and your thumb. Finding the nearest trash can, you throw the moldy sandwich away. At least the smell hadn’t penetrated through the bag yet.

You’re just zipping up your backpack after ridding yourself of about a hundred pounds of unnecessary textbook weight when someone shouts at the end of the hall.

Petty squabbles between students, you’re usually able to ignore. However, as all the noise is headed in your direction, you hear your name in between cursed and yells. A catastrophic tornado blows your way. Your feet are firm to the ground in terror.

Roxie’s purple, and about to blow a blood vessel judging by the vein nearly popping out of her neck. Hot on her trail is petite Indie, who’s begging for Roxie to just listen to her.

“Hey, you!” Roxie jabs her finger in your face.

Indie tumbled over her own feet, “Roxie!”

You check over your shoulder in hopes that someone might be there. No one is there except a few onlookers she’s drawn in her tirade. Now, you’re thinking. Eddie couldn’t have spilt the beans this quickly. Could he?

“Oh, I’m coming for you, bitch,” she snarls.

You’re toast.

Roxie is larger than you in all retrospects, but she’s especially big in muscle. If she’s about to pummel you, then you’ll be knocked over and split in two like a pin and she’s the ball going a hundred miles an hour.

“Can’t we talk this out?” Indie asks through gasps of air.

You stare between them. Indie isn’t after you by the worried expression she holds. Still unsure exactly what Roxie’s prattling on about, you decide to wait before you interject.

“Is there something going on between you and Eddie?” Roxie demands.

See, you knew their relationship wasn’t casual! Still, you did nothing wrong. Yesterday, you didn’t even express to Eddie that you liked him in the first place. You wanted to drop the conversation, and he kept going. This is his fault. Why isn’t he about to get a fist to the face? Who’s to say he hasn’t already? Yikes.

Roxie sucks her tongue to her teeth.

“Uh-,” you’re still loading in the information, and you hesitate to answer right away. “N- no?”

“Is that a question?” Her hot breath hits your nose.

You bring your hands down to your sides because you can’t let her see you trembling like a leaf. If she smells fear, she’ll know she’s won. Her prey is hers for the taking.

You’re tired of this. “Eddie and I have nothing going on. We’re just- just friends.”

You have a hard time saying that, but not for the reasons that Roxie has in mind. You’re not even sure if Eddie wants to be your friend anymore.

“Okay,” she sticks her tongue into the flesh of her jaw, and then says. “How come last night he moaned your name instead of mine?”

Blood rushes to your ears. Your face is on fire, and you’re sure everyone can see so.

Onlookers jeer and whisper amongst themselves. Rumors are already beginning from mouth to mouth; and, hitting ear to ear.

You would also like to understand what she meant by “moaning your name.” Spare the details. Obviously, you knew what happened last night. You wipe the winner’s smirk off your face, before Roxie even notices.

“I don’t know,” you fold your arms across your chest. “Shouldn’t you ask him?”

Roxie squares her shoulders. She clenched her fists until her knuckles are white. Cursing a few more angry words your way, she’s a bull ready to charge. You might as well be wearing all red.

“What’s going on here?!”

Miss Brown sticks her nose into the hallway and notices the crowd of people. Before anyone can do anything rash, she pushes her way into the center of the chaos. With an ostentatious sort of sigh that suggests she’s better than all of you, she starts breaking up the fight.

“Off to class,” Miss Brown shoo’s them.

“Let’s go, Roxie,” Indie grits her teeth.

Roxie eyes you one more time. “Fine. I’ll be seeing you later.”

You gulp.

It’s time to play a new game around school: Hide from Roxie! Winners get the very rewarding prize of not getting their face beat in.

You dart from class to class all morning. A huge target sticks to your back with Roxie aiming for a bullseye. Meanwhile, Eddie is still no where to be found. He’s probably hiding under his sheets at home, full of shame when he mistook your name for hers.

That’s just fine by you. You still didn’t want to see him either. Or, maybe you did. First, to clear the air about you liking him. A little flimsy crush isn’t going to break a friendship, right? You’ll get over it in time. Secondly, you’re sure that him naming you is a big misunderstanding. He just got distracted or something.

After lunch was over, you planned to sneak through Mr Campbell’s empty classroom. He doesn’t have afternoon classes, and you can easily shoot through since there is a door on either side of the hallway.

“Over there!”

Roxie has the cheerleaders involved now. No doubt they want a piece of judge, jury and conviction too.

Colliding into something solid, you topple over onto the tile. You’re swept away in thought and you forget to watch where your going. Mr. Campbell has that skeleton on wheels that he’ll leave just about anywhere. But, you haven’t knocked over that stupid skeleton.

It’s Eddie.

“Oh, God,” you rub your backside.

Eddie gasps, “What are you doing?”

“What am I-,” you snap. “What the hell are you doing? Your girlfriend almost tackled me like linebacker!”

Eddie shushes you. “Do you want her to hear? She’s not my girlfriend. I told you it’s casual.”

“Casual?” You want to yell, but you also don’t want her to hear. The last thing you need is for Roxie to see you in the same room as Eddie. “Whatever you have is not casual.”

“I messed up, okay?” He rubs his temple. “Jesus!”

Your chin lifts at the familiar brrring of the school bell. Now, you’re skipping class. You’ll get another hour of detention no matter if you stay here or go to class.

“You’re hiding from her too?” You conclude.

Detention doesn’t matter to Eddie. He just wants to ensure you’re okay. Judging by the way you’re creeping through empty classrooms, you’re doing just about as good as he is.

"I'm not hiding," he jumps when someone's locker slams. "Okay, so maybe I am hiding."

"This is so humiliating," you cry.

Eddie apologizes, “I’m sorry-,”

“You’re sorry?”

You’re grateful that the light in the room is limited. Otherwise, you don’t know if you could have a conversation with him right now. Eddie has these eyes that you could simply drown in.

“It was an accident,” he claims. “You’re the one who said-,”

“I didn’t say anything,” you correct him. “You’re the one with the wild imagination.”

“Wild imagination?!”

“Maybe I do like Jeff, hm? Or- or maybe I’ve come to realize that Gareth is a great guy. Did you think of that?” You stand before him, while he scrunches down into a chair. “Eddie Munson you’re selfish - no, you’re self centered. All about Eddie- it’s Eddie’s world and we’re all just there like puppets on strings.”

“You done?”

“No!” You snap. “Yes.”

“How could you call me self-centered when you’ve been prancing around this place like the rest of the guys don’t exist? Everyone wants to know where you are all the time. Why would I know? Oh, because you’re supposed to be my best friend,” Eddie rubs his hands across his face. “God, when did things get so complicated?”

"When you started calling me one of the guys in middle school, and I just wanted whatever you wanted,” you admit out loud. “Why do you think I changed when Gareth mentioned Roxie? I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Eddie’s unreadable. Although dark, you can see his thoughts bubble and burst.

“It doesn’t matter,” you continue. “You don’t like me like that.”

“Who’s to say that?” Eddie’s voice comes out barely audible.

You shake your head. “Don’t pity me.”

Eddie kicks the stool from under him, “I’m not.”

“Eddie,” you pick at your nails. “What we have is a great friendship. I’m lucky that you’re in my life. I don’t want to risk messing that up. Are- are you okay with that? Are we okay?”

Eddie doesn’t want to leave the air so broken. While the words are spelled out in front of him, he can’t find a way to bring them out.

“We’re okay,” he says.

-> <-

Flicking a green bean on his plate with a fork, Eddie can’t be bothered to bring the food to his lips. Nothing passes his mouth. He watches the ice crystals on his steak defrost because he doesn’t want Uncle Wayne to worry that he’s messed up dinner, since this is the first one they’ve shared in a while. Wayne told his boss that he wanted to be home tonight for Eddie, and here he is.

“You’re not eating?” His uncle points out because Wayne has eaten half of his meal, and he worries that Eddie is appearing a bit gray and slender.

Eddie replies. “I ate a lot at school.”

“In the years that you’ve been under my roof, you haven’t stopped eating,” Wayne lowers his head to meet his nephew’s eye. “Try again.”

Eddie pushes the microwaved dinner aside. A low hum comes from the television, and he’s not even sure what’s on. Someone’s bobbing around like a baboon trying to make a woman smile. Yet another attempt from Wayne to make Eddie relive his childhood, he guesses.

“That girl your seeing isn’t pregnant is she?” Wayne presses when Eddie won’t talk. “Eddie Munson, I’ve told you to use a condom-,”

“No,” he cocks his head to rethink. “No, she’s not.”

Even if Roxie was pregnant, she’d get an abortion and make Eddie pay for it. Actually, he still owes her for the condoms.

Eddie wants to be done with women for a while. But, there is still this pinching on his ears that reminds him you’re still there. He’s actually wearing a pair of your studs that you forgot at his house one day. Since Eddie is prone to losing just about everything, he’s decided to wear them so they don’t get lost. No one even notices except for him. They hide behind his hair.

“Look,” Eddie wets his lips. “If I tell you, then you have to promise me you won’t do that weird ‘oooh’ thing you do. Got it?”

Wayne claps his hands together. Say no more. He’s solved the case! That little lady across the park has had her eye on him since the day Eddie moved in. Wayne really likes her. ‘Thinks she’s a great ball of sunshine that can keep Eddie under control. He’s been just waiting for Eddie to wake up and smell the coffee!

“Really?” Wayne excites.

Eddie exhales. “Don’t-,”

“Wait,” he lectures. “You’re not seeing both of them are you? Eddie Munson that is wrong, and I won’t tolerate that behavior. I taught you better.”

“No-,”

“Seriously, boy. Wear a condom. It’s not just for you, but her too you know?”

“Wayne-,”

“You can’t be spreading your butter on everyone’s toast.”

“Wayne!”

“I knew it,” he blabs on. “Ever since I caught you two brushing each other’s teeth. Oh, I saw this coming - I did!”

That incident happened once, and Wayne would never let Eddie live that down.

You smoke one joint.

After sitting in his room complaining of boredom, you tell Eddie you had never brushed someone else’s teeth before. He hadn’t either. You wanted to try. But, Eddie would only let you if the offer went both ways. Wayne burst in when you were scrubbing his tongue. You splattered toothpaste all over the mirror, while Eddie tried to keep you from squirming so he could scrub your teeth.

“You need to learn how to knock,” Eddie tries sailing with the conversation his old man is going on about.

Wayne challenges. “You know there’s no closed doors when you have girls over, Eddie.”

“Oh, my God.”

Reliving the memory, Eddie wants to make more with you. Cooking. You’ll cook. He’ll burn food. You’ll tell him he’s doing a wonderful job anyway because you’re too sweet to tell him to get out before he burns the house down. Eddie visions that you’ll teach him a better way to organize his clothes. You’ve already tried to show him how to fold, but Eddie only lasted a week doing your method before going back to shoving the clothes in whatever drawer is the least bit full. He’ll now admit that he only let you teach him because he wanted you close. He wants you close. Always.

It’s not just domestic stuff he sees. He wants to take you on a date. Many dates. He wants to take you out of Hawkins, even if it’s for just a day. He misses your laugh. Seeing you cry today broke him. Knowing that you’ve changed everything for him, and he didn’t notice. Because at the core of all the makeup and the hair, he guesses, that he just didn’t care. He loves all the extra, don’t get him wrong, but all he can see is you.

“What are you going to do, boy?” Wayne wonders.

Eddie replies in a question, “What if everything goes wrong? I- I can’t lose her, Wayne.”

“Son-,”

“What if I just turn out like him? Like my father?”

Eddie’s lip quivers, as he bites back the tears he’s been holding onto for years. Not a day goes by does he not miss his father, even if the years weren’t kind to him. His father is locked away somewhere in State, but he hasn’t visited. They’ll take one look at Eddie and they’ll try to lock him away too.

“That’s not you, Eddie,” Wayne opens his arms. “Come here.”

Eddie drops his head onto his uncle’s shoulder. Tears slide down his cheek and across his chin.

“Deep breaths,” he rubs his hand across Eddie’s back.

He doesn’t cry for long, and Wayne wipes his tears when he’s calmer. This isn’t a usual interaction between them, but neither of them care. Wayne takes away a stray eyelash from Eddie’s cheek.

“You like this girl?” Wayne says as a fact more than a question.

Eddie nods.

“You have to try,” he insists.

“Yeah, okay,” his nephew agrees.

Wayne and Eddie end their conversation there. Eddie eventually eats (after microwaving the food because he could have broken teeth on that steak), and the show that his uncle makes him watch isn’t half bad. Their night comes to a close when his uncle snores.

Mouth agape, head tipped over and his feet propped up, Wayne would be out for the night.

Eddie tucks his uncle’s toes beneath the blanket Wayne was hugging. Tip toeing his way into the kitchen, he puts both forks into the sink along with their drinking glasses. The TV dinners find home in the trash can. While Eddie left the television on to lull his uncle in his sleep, Eddie flicks off the living room and the kitchen lights. He sneaks off to his bedroom, the only bedroom in the trailer. Wayne gave up the space for Eddie to grow into.

Eddie finds that sleep won’t do.

You project onto his ceiling like a film about his life. There you are. Every new milestone. Eddie didn’t think about just how many times you were there for him. His birthdays come to mind, even the ones he didn’t want to be there for because he doesn’t always feel like he deserves to be celebrated. You’d sneak off to get him a beer when his uncle was distracted with all the other kids invited.

When you kept him from going outside, while Wayne drove up in his brand new van that was a gift for Eddie when he got his license. Wayne took on extra hours just for him. That might just have been the night his heart beat a little faster for you. Watching you perform songs in your living room in that ridiculous feather boa and sunglasses, Eddie’s drawn to laugh at the memory of you out of tune and off key. You didn’t care. The hair brush you swore was a microphone was just not working that night. You’re much better performer in the shower, you’d said.

Eddie sits up in bed, and he can see that your bedroom light is still on. Your curtains are drawn, but your silhouette dances about. Bouncing up and down will sometimes get rid of your last bit of energy, Eddie’s witnessed your routine first hand. Your wild, and Eddie finds this fascinating.

When your silhouette disappears, but the light remains, Eddie concludes that you’re reading a chapter book. You told Eddie to try reading sometime because that’s what helped you get to sleep. He bought his first book that very same day.

The Lord of the Rings was your suggestion. Not that he hadn’t found it first, but he wasn’t about to point it out. Eddie sees the book hidden under a lighter he used last night.

Smoking seemed obvious to him. He couldn’t sleep, so he would light up. With Wayne home, though, Eddie didn’t want the smell getting to him. He’s pretty sure Wayne knows he smokes by now, and he doesn’t care. Eddie isn’t a reckless smoker by any means, and he keeps to himself. If Wayne found out he was selling, that would be a different story.

Never the less, Eddie reads page after page of the same book he’s been fascinated by for weeks. He immerses himself into the books wishing he could be the hero, rather than the one who runs in the face of danger.

Eddie hears your front door open and close. This interests him and tips his head up. Tossing the book aside like he’s suddenly been hypnotized, he looks through his window.

You’re on the porch in thin pajamas and a robe. A lit cigarette slots between your fingers. You only smoke when you’re stressed. Pacing back and forth, Eddie understands that you’re talking to yourself. He just can’t make out the words.

This is creepy. Eddie shuts his window, and sinks back in bed. Leaving you alone - leaving you alone.

The words in his book blur into blobs of unrecognizable text. All he can see right now is you on that porch. You’re alone - and you’re probably cold. He has a blanket that he could offer. Maybe he could- no, he is leaving you alone.

Eddie wants to untangle the knot he has in his belly. He even tries to convince himself that he’s still hungry. But, he knows he won’t eat. You’re there. Even if you were caked in mud, you’d still be the most beautiful girl in the world to him. Actually, he has seen you caked in mud before. You were definitely hot then too.

Oh, God. What was he doing?

Pulling open his closet now, Eddie finds a jacket to slip on over his pajamas. He takes an extra blanket with him. It’s a bit torn up, but the blanket is clean. Wayne washed the blanket a couple of days ago, along with Eddie’s sheets which he claimed he could smell from across town. Eddie was not that dirty. It was the weed - but, er - don’t ask about the stains. He doesn’t know what they are or where they came from. Seriously, don’t ask.

Wayne is still snoring in the living room. He mutters in his sleep when Eddie opens the front door, and he doesn’t see Wayne stir once the door shuts.

His uncle stretches, and wakes up enough to take a leak in his bathroom. By the time he returns to the living room, he catches a glimpse from the window in the living room. His boy is with you on your porch making you smile and making you blush.

Wayne doesn’t need to spy. He’s seen this movie before when his brother made moves on his girl. It’d be a few more years until Eddie is born, but the picture is already there.

“Atta boy,” Wayne cheers to himself.

Eddie’s sitting with you, and sharing a cigarette. You’re not sleeping either. Dried black makeup you haven’t smudged off is stuck under your eyes. He wants to swipe it away, but he doesn’t know if he should.

“Is your mom in tonight?” Eddie asks.

You shake your head. “No, but my dad is such a deep sleeper. He’s nothing to worry about.”

Eddie worries about your dad catching him there with his only daughter, then your mom who likes to call you both “crazy kids.” Your dad is stern. Overprotective. He’s jokes about having a gun locked away somewhere, but Eddie still has no idea if he is joking. You won’t tell him because truthfully you don’t know.

“What’s got you up?” Eddie brings the blanket closer to you because he sees your shoulders dance.

You shake your head blowing out smoke to the left where Eddie isn’t.

Eddie takes a drag from the cigarette after he says, “I don’t think I’ve been all that honest with you.”

He reads your face.

“Not like that,” he can’t look at you, so he counts the floorboards of your porch. “I said we’re okay, but I don’t think we are.”

Your heart skips in your chest. “What do you mean?”

While Eddie might not be able to look at you, your eyes are all on him. In the moonlight, he’s like this shiny thing. You can’t put your thoughts into words, but he’s carved by the shine of the moon. He might hide his face with his hair, but when he hunches over you relax a bit.

You haven’t been able to put yourself in bed. Knowing that Eddie was there had wrecked your mind. You’re itching to be near him.

The whole day you thought about nothing, but him. How unsatisfied you are with your earlier conversation. You thought being the one to take charge in the conversation, and assert yourself, might make the blow easier. Truthfully, it hurt even worse.

You spent the evening sobbing in your room like a baby. Friends. You signed your name at the bottom of that contract. But, then, you thought about the day you’ll find a nice boy that will like you back. You’ll get married. You’ll get a house. Everything will be okay. But, as you thought about your life, your mind wondered about Eddie. What happens when he finds a girl? He’ll have a wife and he’ll have a house too.

You’ll be at that wedding. Sitting in a chair that’s not too close to the front, but also not all the way in the back. The band sits in front of you. They might not be able to pronounce the brand name, but their check cashes on their suits. All of your friends are his friends.

Eddie’s fiancé is faceless, but her gown is breathtaking. They’ll say ‘I do.’

You’ll cry along with them, but the tears you shed are ones you let out at a funeral. Are you just supposed to sit there and pretend like you don’t want to throw up?

Because that’s not you standing at the alter.

That’s some chick he’s met on the road while he tours with the band. Sure she’s great. But, the sight sickens you. Maybe that means your selfish, but you can’t do this. You can’t see Eddie with another woman. You refuse to see it because Eddie’s always been with you.

“I’m sorry?” You’ve spaced out while Eddie is speaking.

He begins to say, “please don’t make me repeat myself.”

Throwing the cigarette to the ground, you stamp out the flame. You wrap your hands around his neck, and you pull him forward. Eddie's lips meet yours in an awaited embrace. Longing and passionate. His hands burrow into your hair pulling you ever closer. The tender touch of his fingers fall to your waist to tell you he's not going anywhere.

You can't be sure which one of you pull away first. But, when your eyes open you breathe a sigh of relief. Eddie is still there, and he's about as hot in the face as you feel. You let out a breathy laugh, and he hides his grin behind his hair.

It doesn't take long for him to ask,

"Can I take you out sometime?"

And, of course, you say. "Yes!"

-> <-

tags: @hellfirenacht @queercodedcharacter @ogoc-19 @littlewinchester1 @stardustingold @ghost4love @spenciesprincess @animechick555 @foggyfooz @aactuaaltraash @loves0phelia @sofaritsalrightt @thisisktrying @somethingvicked @sebastiansstanswhore

[ramirezmindset]

❝ 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 ❞

.　 . �� ☆ . ° .• ��:. *₊ ° . tyler owens x fem!reader .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° .

→ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: yourself and tyler go way back, further than you'd like to admit, but after a brutal end, it's been years since you've spoken. until one night when your roommate brings him home.

→ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: ANNNNGGSSSSTTTT, talks of fighting and yelling, reader and tyler having history, use of feminine pronouns and description, awkward asl atmosphere, sexual implication, longing, flashbacks will be in italics. ↳ wc: 4671 (not sorry)

→ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: this came to me when i was sat on the couch with MY roommates hahahaahah - requests are open!

↳ ❝ [ i shouldn't have called, cause we shouldn't speak. you do make me hard, but she makes me weak - save all the jokes you're gonna make, while i see how much drink i can take. then be my mistake ] ❞

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"Y/N, Emmie just texted me, she's found a male at the bar and he's coming back here" Your roommate Caroline slaps a hand over her mouth, biting back a laugh as you shake your head and chuckle. "I knew we should've joined her, but for some reason you refuse to go into that bar!"

"Carol, you know why I don't go there!" You scoff back, a playful smile on your face. You put the teaspoon in the sink and take a sip of the tea you just made, pushing a mug over the kitchen island to where Caroline sits. "I know that he tends to go there a lot and I just- I don't really want to be bumping into him and getting all weird and sad when I'm supposed to be having fun with my best girls"

"Yeah, yeah, Tyler this, Tyler that" You give her a disapproving look. "Ok, I'm sorry, that was rude. But I'm serious, Y/N, it's been four years. We never even met the guy, or even saw a photo! Surely if you were that spent on keeping him locked up in that little brain of yours for your eyes only, it can't have been that serious?"

"Oh, it was serious!" You defend, laughing and holding up your arms in mock offence. Carol wraps the blanket tighter around herself and leads you towards the couch, settling with her cup of tea, urging you to sit in front of her. "It was on and off like a strobe light, but I was crazy about him. And as far as I know, he was crazy about me. We just didn't mesh well. I mean, we had been together since we were fifteen, we grew out of each other, I guess"

"But you still have a photo of him in your wallet?" Your eyes widen at this statement, your face growing pale. "Relax, girl, I went in there to put your Costco card back and I saw a photo of some guy from the back. I assume it was him anyway and not some secret guy you've been hiding from us"

You bury your face in your hands in embarrassment, chuckling lowly to yourself. "That's Tyler alright"

"Y/N/N, will you just get in the truck?" Tyler said, holding his hand out for you to take. "Please?" You could never resist those puppy dog eyes, the one's you fell in love with all those years ago.

You smile at him, taking his hand and letting him lead you down the stairs of the porch towards his beat up old truck. Opening the door for you, he helps you climb in, a smile plastered across both your faces.

"Ty, where are you taking me?" You laugh, shaking your head at him as he just winks and shuts the door behind him, walking round the truck to slide into the drivers side.

"Now what would I gain from ruining the surprise, hm?" He turned the keys in the ignition and sped off down the dirt track of your parent's ranch, but instead of turning off onto the freeway, he heads in a different direction.

Deciding not to question him, you sigh and lean back into the headrest, staring at his side profile as he concentrates on the road. The furrow of his eyebrows, the clench in his jaw when he hits a particularly rocky piece of track, the slight smirk that flicks at the corner of his mouth when a song he likes plays on the radio.

"What are you staring at, pretty lady?" He jokes, glancing over at you and placing a hand on your thigh. "Something got your attention, hm?"

"Just my gorgeous boyfriend" You smile once again, interlocking your fingers with his hand that rests on your leg. "Thinking about how lucky I am to have such a beautiful man that loves me and drives me around and surprises me and buys me flowers and doesn't let me spend a dime."

"Yeah, you are pretty lucky" You both erupt into a fit of laughter as the truck pulls to a stop. He takes his hand off your thigh to take the keys out of the ignition and hops out the truck to open your door. "Here we are"

You look around you, confusion etching your features. "Tyler, this is the woods" He tuts at you.

"I knew you would say that. Just come with me" He takes your hand, leading you into the trees down a makeshift trail that's been made through hikers over the years. "You maybe know about this place, you maybe don't. I'm hoping don't"

You're walking for about 15 minutes before he tells you to close your eyes, grabbing your other hand to help you balance and show you the way. "Tyler, I am going to die out here!" You joke as you stumble over what feels like a branch.

"Relax, oh my Christ!" He laughs back, he pulls you into a stop as you find your feet on somewhat smooth ground. "Ok, keep your eyes closed. No peeking!" He lets go of both your hands and you feel him walk away, the crunch of his feet getting slightly further away before coming to a stop.

You take a deep breath, you arms still held out to the side slightly to keep your balance on the unfamiliar terrain.

"Ok, open" You open your eyes to find yourself on a wide cliffside at the edge of the woods, a picnic blanket sprawled out a few feet away from you where Tyler stood, and a basket full of what looks like all your favourite foods. A bottle of wine and two glasses sit comfortably on the blanket, and the city lights from below you glittered as the sun set below the peaks of the mountains miles away.

"Tyler, this is-" You place a hand on your heart, and you move your eyes to meet his, slowly walking towards where he was standing. "Tyler, this is incredible" You put your arm around his waist, pulling him in closely as you admire the intricacy of the set up. He places a kiss to your temple.

"I thought considering I'm leaving tomorrow for that storm, we could have a nice final date" He smiles, letting you go to sit down on the blanket.

"Nice?!" You exclaim, feigning offence. "Tyler, this is more than nice. This is perfect"

"Only the best for my girl" He winks, reaching for the wine and the corkscrew. "Now are you gonna sit down and enjoy this picnic with me, or are you gonna stand there staring?" He jokes again, fiddling about with the wine.

Before he could pester you again, you reach into your bag for your polaroid camera, an old thing Tyler got you for your seventeenth birthday that travels in your bag with you everywhere. Snapping a photo of him from behind, sat on the picnic blanket, the sun creating a silhouette of his frame, and all you could think in the moment was how beautiful he was, and how beautiful this could be.

"Earth to Y/N!" Caroline snaps her fingers from the couch opposite you. You flick back to reality, shaking your head and sheepishly apologising. "You OK?"

"Yeah!" You reply a little too enthusiastically. "Yeah, I'm fine, just a bit tired"

"Do you mean tired or Tyler?" Caroline giggles as you half-heartedly fling a throw pillow in her direction. "Sorry, sorry! But seriously girl, it's been this long and he's still on your mind? He must've had you whipped, you haven't even been on a date since!"

"Yes I have!" You defend, placing your tea down on the coffee table and crossing your legs under your blanket.

"Fucking some guy on the gross sinks of the club handicap stall is not a date" She got you there. Suddenly, you hear the front door open, and Emmie's laughter echo around the hallway. "Christ, here she comes" Caroline sits up on the couch and fixes her hair, as if Emmie and her mystery man would come in the room anyway.

You were proven extremely wrong when the door is pushed open and your second roommate strolls in, three beers in hand. She throws one at you and one at Caroline, using her foot to keep the door open.

"I come bearing gifts!" Emmie exclaims, holding her own beer in her hands as you try biting the lid off the beer open. "We're gonna chill in here for a bit with you guys, Tyler's just taking his shoes off"

"Who?!" Caroline exclaims, as you choke on your own breath. "Who is gonna chill in here for a bit?" She looks between the two of you as you scramble on the couch to find the missing beer cap.

Confusion etches across Emmie's face, staring at you as you frantically sit back up, pushing your glasses back up your nose. "Oh shit!" She exclaims, her eyes widening in realisation. "Oh shit!"

"Oh shit what?" that all to familiar voice asks from behind her as he strolls into the living room, making eye contact with Caroline before turning towards you. His eyes grow wide, his hands immediately reaching to take his hat off and hold it to his chest. The hat that you bought him. That stupid, stupid hat that you spent a stupid, stupid amount of money on, but somehow all seemed worth it to see that stupid, stupid smile on his stupid, stupid face.

It seemed like forever that he was staring into you before Caroline broke the silence by clearing her throat. "Um, it's nice to meet you, Tyler. How are you, Tyler? What's going on, Tyler?" She raises her eyebrows at him, as you shoot her a glare.

"Uh- yeah, I'm good, you must be Caroline" He finally tears his eyes away from you to spare an awkward, tight-lipped smile. A familiar gut-wrenching embarrassment fills your body as you look down at your lap as it hits you that your ex-boyfriend is in your apartment, with the intention of fucking your best friend, and you're sat on the couch in your pyjama's drinking tea at 10pm on a Saturday night.

Emmie awkwardly sits on the couch next to Caroline, slipping her shoes off and mouthing a 'Sorry', reaching into her pocket to pull out her phone.

I'm so sorry, she texts you. I had no idea that was the Tyler, I'm gonna ask him to leave, tell him I don't feel well. I'm so sorry

You reply: you don't have to do that, i'm just gonna take myself off to bed

No this is my mess, Emmie's next text reads. I'll sort it all out.

Tyler's still standing awkwardly in the doorway as you launch yourself off of the couch and into the kitchen, pouring your beer down the sink out of pure humiliation. He still wore the same cologne, you could smell the sandalwood on his skin as you pushed past him, his warm flesh brushing against the bare skin of your arm. He still had that same look in his eyes all those years ago when he looked at you, that one of adoration.

You rub your eyes and look out the kitchen window of your apartment at the city lights, the rain pattering slowly against the glass panes as you sigh and lean your back against the counter. It was almost like mother nature was mocking you, laughing in your face as the memories of your last meeting with Tyler flooded your mind.

"Baby, just come back inside, we can talk!" He bellowed from his porch. "It's storming, Y/N, just come inside!"

You continue down his front path as the rain and hail slammed on the pavement. You didn't know what you were doing, your house was a forty-five minute walk from Tyler's place, but you knew you'd regret it if you gave in. Suddenly, his hand grabbed your bicep from behind, twisting you around. He saw your bloodshot eyes and puffy lips and immediately his features softened.

"Darlin', I'm sorry, please just come inside and we can talk it all out" His palm came up to cradle the side of your face, and you had to fight the urge to lean into his warm, tender touch.

"There's nothing to talk about, Tyler" You replied, shaking your head. Another tear rolled down your cheek, unrecognisable as the rain hammered down on your head. "You made your choice, let me make mine"

Tyler's eyebrows furrowed. "My choice? I choose you! I always chose you, I will always choose you!" His hand left your face, falling limp at his side.

"Tell that to Boone" You shook you head. "Tell that to everyone on that stupid fucking tornado chasing team! That's what you'd rather be doing!" He scoffs, wiping a hand down his face. "What? It's true! All I've done for the last decade is support you, I let you go off and do whatever it is you do in that stupid truck, I supported you in college when you didn't have a clue what you were gonna do with your life, I came with you on chases even though I fucking hate thunder, and I hate the danger, I do everything for you! And what do I get?"

"You get to be with me!" He cut you off, you were both yelling now, drawing attention from the neighbours as lights in the houses around you slowly turned on. "Isn't that enough? Am I not enough?"

"Don't you dare turn this on me!" You turn your back on him, wiping your face. You're too far in to let him see you cry. "Tyler, of course you're enough. I'm in love with you, I have been for ten years, but all I do in this relationship is hurt. I don't feel loved, I feel like you're not satisfied until you've got your adrenaline fix on some tornado hundreds of miles away from you. Am I supposed to sit on the porch knitting, waiting for you to show back up? God forbid my boyfriend cares about me and what I want!"

"If that's how you feel, maybe we shouldn't be together!" He exclaims, his hands flying into the air as the rain beats down harder and harder.

"Maybe we shouldn't!" Your shoulders slump as you stare at him, the hurt in his eyes clouding over as any ounce of hope he had in his body to remedy this is blown away by the wind and washed away by the rain. "We're not fifteen anymore, Tyler. I can't keep doing this, I can't keep hoping and praying that you'll come back to me alive. I just can't."

"Hey" Emmie's voice sounds behind you. You turn your head towards the kitchen door, where she's shutting it behind her. "I told Tyler I wasn't feeling well, and if I'm honest, he couldn't get out of here fast enough" She awkwardly chuckles and walks over to you, giving you a hug. "I'm so sorry, Y/N/N, I didn't know that was your Tyler. I would've never have spoken to him, let alone brought him home if I knew-"

"Emmie, relax" You reply, a dry laugh leaving your throat. "It's fine, there's no need to apologise. I was just shocked to see him, that's all. It's okay, I'm okay, I promise."

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You climb out of the cab, Caroline and Emmie hot on your tail as the three of you link arms and giggle as you stumble towards the bar. The three bottles of wine you had in the refrigerator went down a treat as Emmie and Caroline coaxed you into drinking with them, and you let them convince you going to the bar that Tyler frequented was a fabulous use of your time.

It had been two weeks since your encounter with him, and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't all you thought about. The look on his face, the smell of his skin and that goddamned hat that he still refused to part with all these years later.

You'd spent the majority of the past few weeks reminiscing on the relationship, thinking about what everything was and what it could've grown into. Where would you be today? On your own ranch, like your parents, but bigger, and would you finally have gotten that ring, maybe a couple of kids? Even today, when you pictured your future, it was always with him by your side.

The atmosphere in the bar was lively, music blasting out of the jukebox as you had to elbow your way to the bar for a drink. Your eyes take a scan of the room, but he wasn't in sight. A twang of disappointment struck you, as if you would've approached him anyway.

"What can I get you?" The bartender asks, but before you could open your mouth, someone responds for you.

"Black label, on the rocks" Tyler slides up beside you, the slight redness in his eyes indicating he was just as buzzed as you were. "Hey" He rests his elbow on the bar, passing the bartender his card and shooting you a smile.

He looked somewhat the same, his shoulders were broader and his smile no longer reached his eyes, but he was still your Tyler. The mischievous glint in his eye was gone, and he had grown some stubble, even with all the differences he was still just as charming as he was all those years ago.

"Hi" you reply, taking your drink from his hand and throwing it all down.

"Woah, slow down there, cowgirl" He laughed, his old nickname for you making shivers run up your spine. You glanced over your shoulder to find Emmie and Caroline, but they had scuttled off to a dark corner of the bar, no doubt to watch this interaction.

You had never felt more awkward in your life. All of a sudden the top you thought was cute three hours ago is too much for the atmosphere you're in, and your makeup is too perfect to be ruined by the tears that would inevitably fall within the next fifteen minutes.

Tyler nods his head towards the door, taking your hand delicately in his as he led you to the deck of the bar. Sparks shot up your arm and through your body at his gentle touch, his grasp far from firm, as if you were glass that would shatter. You follow him out and perch at an empty table overlooking the street.

"How are you?" He asked, looking at you, as if he could see inside your brain. You stare back, eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm fine" You reply, nervously licking your lips and twiddling your fingers on your lap. This is so fucking awkward.

He gives you a knowing look. "No, you're not" He looks away from you and wipes his face with his hand, something he always did to stop himself from crying. "I know you're not, because I haven't been fine since we broke up. And we're cut from the same cloth, you and me, we've been interlinked since we met"

You were sat on the back porch of your parents ranch. It was a sweltering summers day, sweat licking at your skin as you shifted uncomfortably in the deck chair. Your friend Hannah was over, bringing a bottle of some sort of dark liquor with her as she sat next to you, pouring you both another glass.

"Say, when is your brother gonna be home?" She smirked at you as you playfully swatted her arm. "What!? He's hot!"

"Hannah, behave!" You laughed. "But it should be any minute now" You winked at her, reaching for your glass. Usually you wouldn't condone any of your friends getting with your twin brother, but Hannah had liked him for years and you kind of just wanted her to shut up.

As if on cue, the french doors of the patio slid open and your brother walked onto the porch, grabbing Hannah's glass and downing whatever concoction she had made for herself. She playfully giggled, and the sight made you sick to your stomach, but you laughed along anyway.

"Hello, Hannah" Your brother gave her her glass back before turning to you and grimacing. "Hello....thing...."

"Hello, ugly" you responded, pulling your sunglasses on top of your head and sitting up properly to face him. "Why did you have to come out here and ruin my time with my friend?"

"Um, it's hot, you fucking idiot, and the AC is broken, so Tyler and I are gonna chill out here. I see you have liquor, so we're gonna be enjoying that just as much as you are" He pulled up a chair opposite Hannah, so close to her that their knees touched. You wished he'd swallow his pride and make the first move, because you knew damn well Hannah wouldn't.

"Tyler?" Hannah asked, her eyebrows furrowing. "Who's Tyler?"

"I am" he said from behind you, a shadow was cast over your face as he moved to stand next to you. You looked up, and there he was, the most beautiful man you'd ever seen, and probably would ever see. "And you must be Y/N?" You nodded. "I've heard a lot about you"

"Good things I hope" You joke, a laugh bubbling out your throat as your brother clears his throat. "But if they're coming from my brother, I can't imagine it's anything but slander"

You all erupt into laughter, and that was it. After that day, Tyler never left your side.

You lean back into your chair, avoiding eye contact with Tyler. He wasn't lying, you two were eerily similar, and he'd always been the one person, aside from your brother, who could read you like a book. There was no denying your souls were hand crafted for each other.

"How's your brother?" He asks, a lame attempt at conversation.

"I thought you would know" You turned to look at him. "He married Hannah a few months ago. I was half expecting to see you there"

Tyler shook his head. "Corey hasn't spoken to me since we broke up. I think he's angry I broke his sister's heart"

Your lips form a tight line. "What do you want from me Tyler? Have you dragged me out here away from my friends to make pointless small talk or did you have anything of value to say to me?"

"Is it so wrong to want to talk to you?" He asks again, hurt brushing over his features before he regained composure. You roll your eyes and stand up, making your way back into the bar. Before you could walk in, Caroline runs over and slams the door to the deck shut in front of you, Emmie furiously pointing at Tyler, mouthing "fucking talk to him!"

You sigh in defeat and turn around to see Tyler smiling, shading his eyes from the heat lamp burning down on his skin.

"Guess you have no choice" He joked. "But I can't talk to you knowing your roommates are staring at us"

"Well, what do you propose?" You asked, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. You were not leaving the bar with him.

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You left the bar with him. You found yourself strolling down the street, buying a case of beer from the gas station and suddenly, twenty minutes later, you were sat on the cliffside Tyler took you to years ago, moderately buzzed from the mixture of beer and hard liquor.

"I still carry your photo in my wallet" You admit, looking at him on the other side of the bench. "The one I took of you here, in this exact spot, when you made us a picnic before you left on a chase"

"I'd be lying if I said I haven't done the same thing" He reached into his pocket and pulled a polaroid out of his own wallet. It was crumpled and faded, but you could still make out your own face in the moonlight, smiling up at the camera, eyes squeezed shut with Tyler's hat adorning your head. You laughed to yourself.

You settled into a comfortable silence, the subtle admission of lost love still hanging in the air, weighing down on you.

"Why?" He asked. You looked back at him. "Why did you keep it?"

"Why did you?" You retaliate, raising an eyebrow at him in suspicion.

"Why do you think?" He sighed and shuffled ever so slightly closer to you. "I remember when you broke up with me you told your brother I was the biggest mistake of your life. He came banging my front door down, probably ready to beat me to a pulp. I would've let him. But as soon as he told me that- as soon as he told me that you said I was a mistake, every bit of anger in me just dissipated. I was in love with you, hell, I am in love with you, and all I could do was question how I managed to fuck up so bad that our decade together felt like a mistake to you."

"You were never a mistake, Tyler" You whisper softly, choosing to ignore the fact he just admitted his love for you all these years later. "I was mad, mad that I let go so easily, and it was easier to blame you than admit that I broke up with you over something so- so mundane"

He had moved closer to you, his thigh pressing against yours on the bench as he leant down to put his empty beer bottle on the floor. He sat back up, putting one arm around you as you rested your head on his shoulder. You fit in the crook of his neck like a missing piece of a puzzle, and a satisfied sigh left your lips.

"Tyler?" You say, he hums in response. "You're in love with me?"

His shoulders tense as he sucks in a sharp breath. Maybe you should've continued to ignore it.

"Of course I am" he replies softly, lifting your head up and cupping your jaw. Finally, you lean into his touch, a smile tugging at your lips. "I have been for fourteen years. I could never love anyone like I love you, you're it for me"

You stare at him, allowing yourself to fall deeply into his gaze. His features had considerably softened since you first saw him in the bar. The glint of hope in his eyes had returned, and the crease in his brow has gone. The slow breeze pushed his hair slightly back, and you had to resist the urge to run your hands through his blonde locks.

He was slowly leaning in, and before you knew it, your eyes were fluttering shut as you felt his lips lightly graze yours. His other hand found the other side of your face, cradling you like you were the most precious jewel. Your hand instinctively goes up to hold his wrist, his skin rough against your palm.

"Can I- can I kiss you?" He whisper's against your mouth. You nod.

His lips finally pressed against yours, gentle and full of years of love. He tasted the same as he always did, the distinct flavour of vanilla from his chapstick he carried around in his back pocket. His lips slotted against yours perfectly as your arms made their way around his neck. For the first time in years, you felt at peace.

Tyler reluctantly pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. "What do you say?" He whispered. "Be my mistake."

[latenightdaydreams]

Omg girl please do part three for the trucker!!!

Love your writing

Here it isssss!!!! Thank you!🥹

Trucker!König x Stranded!Reader Part3 (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 1, Part 2, Part4, Part5

Master List

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Hello again🥰 Like parts one and two, three requires a strong trigger warning. I love you all and hope you're having a good day. Stay safe and take care of yourselves🩷

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>cw: fem/afab, non-con, oral, breeding, drugging, p in v

2.3k word count

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It’s been two months that you’ve been with König, 10 weeks to be exact. You’ve gotten into the routine of gas station breaks and over nights at the motel. You’ve learned to not fight him after a few bad incidents. He lets you wash yourself now, but he has to watch. He’s traded zip ties for soft handcuffs while you sleep. When you do bathroom breaks, he lets you go into the woman’s side alone, without the cuffs and during the day time. A small taste of freedom.

You sit on the bed in the back of his truck's cab, arms bound and looped through the metal on the bed so you can’t move. König stopped at a gas station to fill up. You sit and look at all of the people walking past. If only they knew you were here. If only they could help.

König buys you a honey bun, turkey sandwich, water, and a soda. He has become soft on you, in his own twisted way. He enjoys treating you, and he’s learned that you have a sweet tooth. He pays at the register and smiles at the young woman. For once he doesn’t look at someone like her in a predatory way, he has you. You fill the hunger.

König walks to the side and opens your soda. He pours two crushed up sleeping pills into the bottle, knowing that you’ll probably drink this first. He has a drop off coming up and he refuses to take any chances of you escaping.

He walks back to the truck and you perk up. He smiles down at you and holds up the bag of goodies.

“I got treats for you Maus.” König sits in the driver’s seat and takes things out of the bag before standing to take your hands away from the bar so you could eat, still handcuffed though.

“Thank you…” You say in a weak voice.

“When you’re done with that, I have a soda and honeybun for you.” He sits and begins to open his own food and eat.

You smile, food has become your only form of comfort throughout all of this. Just sweet things. It’s almost like you get to be back home for those few moments while you’re eating. The better you behave, the more treats König buys.

You both sit in silence as you eat. He hands you the soda to take drinks from. You thank him as you finish your sandwich.

“Ready for your honey bun?”

“Yes, please.” You look to his blue eyes as he smiles at your submission.

You continue to drink your soda as you eat. You zone out and look out the window, starting to feel tired. You yawn, shaking your head to try and wake yourself up. Looking back at König, you’re blinking slowly. Realizing you were drugged you begin to panic.

“Why?” Your eyelids have become insanely heavy and it’s hard to focus.

“Just for a stop, Maus. I just don’t want you to run away. You’ll be safe.” His voice was oddly soothing.

“I- I wouldn’t.” You begin to struggle to stay awake, your speech slurred and body heavy. You simply can’t fight the pills.

König approaches you and grabs the almost empty soda bottle out of your hand and the half-eaten honey bun; he wraps it up to save it for you. He gently lays you back on the bed and covers your body under the blanket. He hides your hands under so no one could possibly see that you’re handcuffed.

After his drop off, König sits in the driver’s seat using his phone; the truck is blocked off and locked for sleep. He’s moving money from his subscription page, where he has been posting your videos, to his bank account. He looks over at you occasionally, admiring how adorable you look asleep.

He is planning on taking a long break and bringing you to his house. He wants to show you your new home, your new life. Plus, he’s always wanted to settle down and have a family. You seem like you’d be a perfect mom. At the very least you’d make beautiful babies for him.

Standing, he approaches you and speaks softly, “Y/n, you awake?” He shakes your leg slightly. He’s just making sure the sleeping pills are still working. 

Grabbing his phone out of his pocket, he drops his pants to the floor. His erection springs from his boxers. He kneels next to the bed and pulls your sweat pants down and looks at your stubbly pussy, brushing his fingers over the texture before pulling your bottoms off all the way.

Spreading your legs apart, he gently kisses down your soft thighs. Kissing over the bitemarks he left from the last time he was down here. Deciding to not record this, he wants to make it a more intimate moment. He is starting to fall in love with you, and sex isn’t just for profit anymore.

He continues to kiss your soft thighs; it’s been two days since you’ve showered so your pussy smells divine. As he gets closer, he takes deep breaths through his nose to completely breathe you in. Finally, his lips meet your sweet warmth. He kisses gently up and down before pressing his face in, burying his nose deep into your lips.

“So süß…” He mutters to himself.

He pulls back and rubs his fingers up and down your pussy, listening to the mushy wet sound. Slipping two fingers into your cunt, he moves back to your pussy and begins to lick your clit gently. He knows you’re asleep, but he still wants to pleasure you. His other hand on his cock, stroking it quickly. He’s been waiting all day to feel you.

Once your pussy becomes creamy wet, he pulls his fingers out and licks them. Your natural musk all over his face. Grabbing your panties, he wipes his face off on them and keeps them in his hand. He pulls his pants off his ankles and moves on top of you. Moving your left leg with his hand to give himself space to rest his body on top of you. The space is very small for a normal sized person, for someone 6 '10, it’s almost impossible; but he finds a way.

Sliding his cock inside of you easily, he’s learned the right ways to touch your body and to make you relax enough to take him without struggle. He whimpers pathetically as he feels your wet cunt wrap around him. He rests his full weight on you and wraps one of his arms around you tightly, burying his head into the crook of your neck and bringing his hand holding your panties up so he can continue to breathe you in.

“I’m going to cum Maus.”

As his hips begin to thrust quickly, he moans out your name. His body enveloping yours completely, moving his head from your panties to kiss your neck. Moaning into you as his pace picks up. His balls slapping against your ass hard as he squeezes you tightly in his arms. He lets out a loud moan, shoving your panties into his mouth to muffle the sound as he cums deep inside of you.

Panting hard, he continues to just rest there; not wanting to let go of you. He pulls your panties from his mouth and kisses your cheek softly. Lifting his body off of you, he pulls out, savoring the little pop sound your cunt always makes. König looks down at his cum leaking out of you and uses a finger to shove it back in. He dresses you again and then himself. Putting his phone away, he gets ready to go to sleep.

When you wake up König is already driving again. Your head feels groggy from the pills he snuck into your drink. You look out the window and have to squint because of the sun shining brightly through the windows.

Hearing you stir, König looks over his shoulder and smiles at you. “Guten Morgen, meine Liebe.”

“My head hurts,” you say in a sleepy voice that makes his heart warm. “And I have to pee.”

König chuckles and nods his head, “We will be stopping soon. You can get out and use the bathroom. We can also get you a treat, whatever you want.”

“Thank you…”

“So, I’ve been thinking, maybe it’s time we take a break from the road and I take you home.”

The thought of being taken to his home makes your stomach drop. Everyday on the road you see small chances of possibly running away, an odd sense of freedom when you go to the rest stop. What if you never leave the house again? That would be your final stop.

“And maybe it’s time we think about children, I’ve always wanted a big family.”

His voice shatters your internal thoughts as you look up at him with panic. Technically, you’ve been having unprotected sex already, but he never cums in you, so you think. The thought of having his children, let alone this mans, makes you feel terrified and sick to your very core. Death would be kinder than being his breeding slave. You don’t respond, just zoning out and it catches König’s attention.

“Something wrong Maus?”

“N-no,” you think quickly on your toes, “I guess I just never saw myself having kids.”

“No? You’d be a wonderful mother. You’d make beautiful children, especially with my sperm.”

That just grosses you out.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be a good father.”

How can you be when you’ve kidnapped and assaulted their would be mother? You think to yourself trying to suppress the new waves of anxiety this talk is giving you. You decide to try and change topics.

“I’m sorry to be whiny, but I really have to pee.”

“Ja, ja, okay.” König drives on just a little while longer before turning off into the first rest stop he sees. He parks the semi before standing and approaching you. He grabs your shoes for you and kneels down looking at your beautiful face. His Maus.

“Remember the rules. Eyes down, don’t talk to anybody, in and out. Then we can pick out a treat and head back home.”

Home. Hell.

“I remember.” You nod your head as he helps you put your shoes on.

He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out the key to your cuffs. He unlocks you and the scars from the zip ties are still visible. He combs your hair back with a small purple comb to make sure you look presentable. There are always odd people here, so not many questions get asked anyway.

You finally step out of the truck, König’s fingers intertwined with yours as you walk. The hot sun on your skin makes you feel so alive, like you’re real. König stands there for a while and lets you take in its warmth before he tugs your arm for you to follow him.

You both walk inside and an older woman greets you both. König responds, but you keep your head down like you were told. He walks you to the bathroom and whispers in your ears.

“Remember, in and out. Quick.”

You nod in understanding and step into the restroom. Freedom. You rush into a stall and begin to pee hard, letting out a sigh of relief as you relax your shoulders and slump forward. You linger for a while before you wipe, any little small thing that you can do to extend your time alone you do.

Stepping out to wash your hands, you hear the door open and see an old lady with a cane walk in. She smiles at you kindly and you smile back before she goes into a stall. You want to ask for help, but she’s so old you’re scared she wouldn’t understand.

You dry your hands as the bathroom door opens again and as it lingers open, you can hear so many voices talking. You wonder what’s going on as you leave the bathroom.

Opening the door, you’re surrounded by a sea of older people waiting to go in. They just got off a bus for a rest break. You look over at König and see him a little bit away from you as the rude older people push their way past him. His eyes on you like a hawk. You stand there for a while, between the door to freedom, and going back to König. You could ask for help here, but what if he really kills all these innocent people?

König is currently cut off by at least 5 people, meaning he would have to go around then to hurry to you. You saw buildings on your way here, so you could possibly just run until you reach safety. Run and lose him so you can safely call for help.

This feels like it’s been an hour of thinking when really only five seconds pass. Looking at König still, you turn and run. The fastest you’ve ever ran in your life, catching the attention of everyone, not just König.

Running out of the door and heading towards the road, you just let your fight or flight carry you away.

König’s heart sinks as he sees you do that; you’ve been so well behaved he almost can’t believe you’d do this to him. With no care, he barrels through the line of people and goes out the door after you. Everyone at the stop is confused as they watch two people run in what looks like a chase.

König’s massive body is running after you at full speed, trying to catch up to you quickly before anyone can call for help or you can reach safety.

“MAUS!” He shouts after you.

You can hear his booming voice as you run, you don’t stop. You know if you do, he will catch you. There is no telling what an angry König would do. Tears begin to stream down your face as you run, your heart beat pounding in your ears. A little voice telling you to just keep going, don’t stop.

Part 4

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Tag: @nachofriess

[chvoswxtch]

desire

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: now that the defenders of freedom had been caught, what's next for you and frank?

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of alcohol & grief, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 8.1k

a/n: the one you've all been waiting for. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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Considering the fact that your place was still an active crime scene and Homeland still needed to track down the rest of Steven’s dipshit goons to ensure there would be no more threats or attacks, Dinah wanted to take you to a safe house until the investigation was finished.

Frank, however, was not having any of that shit.

It was admittedly an ego boost watching Dinah and Frank lock into a heated staring contest while arguing about who got protective custody of you, and definitely amusing. But eventually, she gave into the stubborn brick wall that was Frank Castle, threw her hands up in total exasperation that was followed by a colorful string of adjectives thrown his way, and that was how you found yourself once again on the road with Frank. 

Initially when you noticed that Frank was driving in the direction outside of the city, perplexment weaved between your brows, but he quickly set your curiosity straight as soon as he noticed it blanketing your features. He didn’t even give you a chance to voice your inquisitions before explaining that he was taking you somewhere safe that no one else knew about.

That knowledge filled you with a bubbling sense of giddiness because getting to stay with Frank at his apartment was one thing, but getting to stay with him in a place that sounded private and secluded? Yeah, that was more than okay with you. 

The longer Frank drove, the more drastic the scenery changed, passing by in a blurry film reel on the other side of the passenger window. The clamorous and bustling streets of the concrete city faded away slowly and soon settled into quiet black asphalt that shrank to one lane on either side of the road. The millions of inhabitants of New York City seemed to melt away into the horizon in the rear view mirror of Frank’s truck, leaving the two of you the only souls for miles. The trees became more and more dense, creating opaque patches of foliage in golden ochre, rusty ginger, and spiced cranberry. In that moment, sitting in the passenger seat was the most at peace you had felt in almost seven months since the whole had nightmare began, and a lot of that peace had everything to do with the man in the driver’s seat absentmindedly tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to the Bruce Springsteen CD currently playing.

After about two hours of driving and light conversation, Frank turned off the asphalt road onto an unmarked dirt path, and you turned your head to stare over at him in half-hearted suspicion while lifting a brow in silent questioning.

“You know, if you kept me alive this long just to murder me in the middle of the woods, that’s some serious dedication.”

Without missing a beat, Frank let out a dry chuckle.

“If I was gonna kill ya, I woulda started switchin’ your coffee out with decaf a long time ago.”

It was always a struggle not to laugh at Frank’s dry sense of humor. You tried not to give him the satisfaction of your amusement, but you found yourself giving in more and more lately. Letting out an overly dramatic sharp gasp while staring at him in exaggerated faux horror, you reached over and lightly smacked your palm against his firm bicep. 

“That is the most evil form of torture I have ever heard.”

Frank snickered deviantly, clearly pleased with himself, and the relaxed grin on his soft lips was stretched so wide that his lifted cheeks caused his eyes to crinkle in delight. For a moment, your breath caught in your throat at the sight. It never failed to render you speechless just how much lighter Frank looked when he smiled. Happiness looked so achingly beautiful on him. Every time you silently observed him, you always learned something new about Frank. He had deep set creases softly feathering around the edges of his eye sockets, proof that Frank had once been a man that smiled and laughed as easily as he breathed. You sincerely hoped that version of him that he seemed to keep buried so deeply was steadily rising back to the surface, and that these ephemeral glimpses you got would soon become permanent.

The gilded stream of midday light cast a velvet glow on Frank’s softened features, leaving you so completely entranced that you hadn’t even noticed the lack of motion when he parked his truck. 

“We’re here.”

The gruff alert of Frank’s voice induced you out of your bewitchment, and it was then that you suddenly noticed the quaint one story cabin nestled a few feet away in front of you.

It was composed of wood in a rich shade of burnt umber, and topped with a forest green downward v-shaped roof. There were a few worn steps leading up to an enclosed porch that appeared to snugly wrap around the cabin entirely, and two large square glass windows on either side of the front door that was painted the same shade of green as the roof. The curtains were drawn so you couldn’t see inside, but from the outside it looked incredibly cozy.

When you got out of the car, you noticed there wasn’t anything around at all but thick woods, and you silently wondered just how far back they went. There didn���t appear to be anyone or anything around for miles, and the only sounds you could hear were birds chirping and the worn wooden steps creaking under the weight of Frank’s heavy black boots. 

“Wow. Billy offers one hell of a retirement plan.” 

Following up the steps behind Frank’s large frame, a glimpse of black flashed in your peripheral vision, and you noticed there were security cameras installed on the left and right corners of the roof, along with what looked to be several motion detector lights along the top perimeter. Knowing Frank, there were probably far more around the entire cabin, and probably even hidden in the trees as well.

Frank paused for a moment at your comment, his dark brown eyes glossing over your presence at his right before taking in the sight of his own cabin like it was the first time he had ever seen it. 

“Nah, s’just somethin’ I never got ‘round to finishin’ ‘til a few months ago. Almost forgot ‘bout it. It was s’posed to be a surprise project for my-” 

The second Frank cut himself off, his body language changed entirely. His relaxed posture instantly stiffened, causing him to stand rigidly at his full height while his shoulders squared to their broadened width. The former calm expression he wore turned to stone right before your very eyes and he clenched his jaw in such a harsh line you could hear his teeth grind. Frank was intensely staring directly through the small six panel window that was in the top middle of the front door, like there was something on the other side that only he could see. 

Before you could react, he abruptly unlocked the front door and pushed it open with his left hand, clearing his throat and vaguely gesturing with his index finger before turning away to descend the stairs without giving you so much as a second glance.

“I’ll uh get the bags. Room at the end of the hall on the right is yours.”

The haunted look in Frank’s eyes reminded you of the night of the gala when he had told you that he had lost his wife. It was almost the exact same one. The thought briefly crossed your mind that he meant to say it had been a surprise project for her, but you quickly put it to rest. Frank clearly didn’t want to elaborate on the subject, and you knew better than to push. The best thing to do was give him his space and let him come to you if he wanted to. Still, it didn’t stop the journalist in you from running wild with questions, and also filling you with a slight sense of guilt that you were about to share a space with Frank that was meant to be something sacred and special between him and his wife.

»»———　　———««

The room at the end of the hall ended up being the master bedroom, to which you protested heavily against taking, but ultimately ended up being an argument you lost because Frank played dirty and distracted you with the delectable scent of homemade pasta sauce and a wine glass that was filled to the brim with bubbly pink.

While you sat at the kitchen island and sipped at your now half empty glass, you studied Frank with a narrowed gaze. A part of you was annoyed with him and yourself at how easily you fell into the trap he set. He knew you well enough to know Italian food was your weakness and that you were more compliant after being fed. But a bigger part of you was completely mesmerized by the way he gracefully navigated the open kitchen. 

There was a furrow of concentration nestled between his thick brows while he precisely measured specific spices to add to the saucepan that was layered with ruby sauce that he had garnished with freshly cut oregano and parsley. On the far back left burner was a boiling pot of penne pasta, and in front of that was a skillet of ground meat Frank had added diced onion and garlic to along with several other seasonings. He shifted between each pan with a quiet elegance that captivated you, and simultaneously irritated you, because there didn’t seem to be a damn thing the man couldn’t do.

“So you’ve been a secret chef this entire time and didn’t tell me?”

“You didn’t ask.”

Rolling your eyes at his quick retort, you cocked your head to the side slightly and focused on the way his back muscles strained against the fabric of the black henley he wore.

“I’m pretty sure I would’ve had an easier time getting nuclear launch codes from the Russian government than ever getting a straight answer out of you.”

Frank snorted at that, throwing you a quick humored glance over his broad shoulder.

“Hey, I give you answers.”

“Oh yeah, after nearly five months of stonewalling me. I didn’t even know what you did before becoming a bodyguard until you told me, what, a week and a half ago?”

Frank lifted one of his thick brows while turning his body slightly towards you.

“You never read my personnel file?”

Glancing down at your wine glass, you clicked your tongue against the inside of your cheek and gave a subtle shake of your head.

“Homeland wouldn’t let me have it.”

“And you let that stop you?”

There was a hint of tease in Frank’s deep voice, and you lifted your gaze to squint at him in annoyance noticing the cheeky smirk curling at the edge of his mouth.

“I’m a journalist, Frank. Not a hacker.”

“Ah, don’t give me that shit. That may be your job but it ain’t all you are. Besides, you’re a goddamn force to be reckoned with and a pain in the ass when you don’t get your way.”

A mischievous smirk slipped across your lips while you brought your glass up to your mouth, looking at Frank innocently over the rim.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Frank’s eyes seemed to wander over your face, stopping at the way the rim of the glass settled against your bottom lip, and when he met your eyes again, they were subtly darkened with that look that sent a tingle down your spine.

He silently stared at you for only a second longer before giving a slight nod, and you caught the wry smile slipping over his lips as he turned back to face the stove.

“Whatever ya say, sweetheart.”

You weren’t exactly sure what the source was of the heat you currently felt blooming in your cheeks: the wine you had consumed, the aroma of the fresh chili pepper Frank had just added to the sauce, or the way he had just looked at you.

Attempting to redirect your impure thoughts before the liquid courage could make you bold enough to voice them, you looked for something to distract yourself with. With your chin in your palm, you glanced down at the rouge tinted liquid and lazily swished it around in your wine glass. A thought quickly popped into your head that caused you to let out a soft snort.

“I didn’t take you as a rosé guy.”

Frank adjusted the heat on the sauce to a low simmer before turning to face you fully, wiping his large hands off on a sage green rag before tossing it over his right shoulder. He took a step over towards the island you were sitting at and wrapped his long fingers around his own wine glass, which looked ludicrously tiny in his hand, and took a long purposeful swig before licking his lips and arching one of his dark brows. 

“What? This is good shit.”

Reaching for the half empty bottle sitting on the island, you let out a soft laugh and went in for a refill. The relaxing effects of the wine had clearly already reached your brain, and before it could catch up with your mouth, you blurted out your next question like it couldn’t possibly ruin the mood.

“Was this your wife’s favorite?”

Frank didn’t clam up like you had expected given his behavior earlier. Instead, he glanced down at the glass in his hand for a moment before shaking his head with a tiny smile gracing the curve of his lips.

“Nah, friend of mine’s wife got me into this stuff.”

Frank took a moment to stare down into the glass, as if there was a fond memory appearing in the bubbles. Clearing his throat, he took another large swig of the wine and set the nearly empty glass down on the island.

“She uh…she liked white wine.”

For some reason, Frank’s casual admission sent a flush of velour warmth through you. Whatever barrier that had prevented Frank from speaking freely earlier seemed to be somewhat dismantled, and this was the first time he had ever spoken voluntarily about his wife that hadn’t left a heavy fog of grief lingering over either of you. A tender smile stretched across your lips as you lifted your glass up in a silent toast.

“My kinda woman. What was her favorite?”

Frank leaned over the island on his elbows, holding the delicate glass in both of his strong hands. The amber lighting in the kitchen made his eyes look like swirls of melted chocolate, and you resisted the urge to lean in closer when he finally looked at you with a faint smile tugging at the left edge of his mouth.

“Pinot Grigio.”

A huge grin stretched across your lips at his answer, and you shook your head faintly as you light heartedly pointed your right index finger towards Frank and lifted your glass to your lips.

“Oh I bet I could’ve easily converted her to a sauvignon blanc girl. There’s this brand from Chile that makes the best blanc, and she would’ve loved it.”

For a moment Frank simply observed you in silent fondness. When you set your glass down, his eyes flickered to his own, and he made a quiet noise of recognition in his throat before speaking quietly.

“She woulda liked you.”

That single sentiment held more weight and significant meaning to you than anything anyone else had ever said to you. A tight lump formed in your throat as those words echoed in your head, and you felt the overwhelming urge to make this intimate moment just as special for Frank, but with the alcohol in your system you couldn’t convey your feelings as eloquently.

“My mom would’ve annoyed you.”

Frank immediately started howling with laughter, turning his head to look at you with squinted eyes in incredulous amusement.

“What?”

“I mean she would have loved you, no doubt about that, but she probably would’ve annoyed you. And definitely hit on you. She was like me, only she had way less of a filter and absolutely zero shame. I think my being nosey and stubborn was genetic, but she took it to a whole other level. Did you know I used to be really quiet?”

Frank’s thick brows lifted in surprise, but you didn’t give him a chance to respond. The rosé was acting as a truth serum, and you couldn’t stop yourself from rambling.

“I was. I was very quiet, and extremely cautious, compliments of my careless mother. She wasn’t really careless, I mean she loved me, she was just a bit reckless, but not in a bad way. Like not a I-need-therapy-for-the-rest-of-my-life way but more of a she-had-me-at-sixteen-and-we-grew-up-together way. You know that I was such a bookworm that she practically begged me to be rebellious and hang out with someone other than her or the local librarian? And she’s the whole reason I wanted to go to Columbia, because she wanted to go to Columbia, but you can’t go to Columbia with a baby and no high school degree, and I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, and I probably should have shut up ten minutes ago, but anyway my mom would’ve liked you but definitely annoyed you more than me.”

Those newfound beloved crinkles were once again decorating Frank’s eyes as he chuckled heartily at your rambling. He downed the rest of his own wine before setting the empty glass down, flashing you a crooked grin as he loosely gestured in your direction with his chin.

“I’m sure I woulda liked Lorelai just as much as I do you.”

There was a skip in your heart’s rhythm, partly because he finally admitted that he liked you as a person, but more so when you realized that Frank remembered your mother’s name. It tugged at your heartstrings, because it was such a simple gesture, but also because it reminded you just how much you missed your mother. 

“I forget sometimes.”

Frank tilted his head to the side slightly when your soft voice settled in the space between the two of you, and his playful grin slowly vanished as he watched while you stared blankly down into your glass, clearly lost in your own thoughts.

“Forget what?”

“That she’s gone.”

There was a slight tremble to your voice as you looked up at Frank with a miniscule sad smile. The empathy in his eyes was almost too much to bear, and you had to look away to keep your composure from crumbling. Turning your head to the left, you took a moment to observe the layout and minimalist decor in the kitchen while letting out a shaky exhale.

“Sometimes I go to call her…just…on my way home from work, you know? Just to talk to her, hear the latest small town gossip, tell her about the latest coffee shop I’ve found that she absolutely has to try when she comes to visit next. There’s even been times I’ve left her voicemails. I’ll be so wrapped up in something and wanna vent to her, and then I’ll start to wonder why she hasn’t called back yet, and then it’ll just…hit me.”

Frank stayed quiet while he listened sympathetically, and the entire cabin was silent apart from the quiet sizzling coming from the stovetop until you gently spoke up again.

“Do you forget too?”

Finally looking over at Frank again, you watched as he lighty dragged his palm down the lower half of his face. While he glanced down at the smooth mahogany countertop, he clasped his large hands together while still resting on his elbows.

“I don’t forget she’s gone, but I uh…I’ve started forgettin’ things. I can’t remember what her perfume smelled like…or what her favorite song was. I can hear it sometimes, ya’know? Every now and then I get these…bits and pieces. Sometimes I can hear her hummin’ it in the kitchen, but it ain’t long enough to remember what song it was, ya’know? Everythin’ started gettin’ fuzzy…and I remember more things I wanna forget than things I actually wanna remember.”

There was a stretch of silence where neither of you spoke. Eventually, Frank straightened up and turned his back to you to walk back over towards the stove. Even though you knew it might not be the right time to ask, there was a question that had been burning in the back of your mind since the night of the gala.

“Frank?”

He hummed quietly in response, turning his head slightly to look at you over his shoulder as he gave you his full attention.

“What was her name?”

The softness of your question clearly caught him off guard, and you could see the hesitation lingering in Frank’s eyes. Worried that you had crossed the line and completely ruined the moment, you were about to hastily backtrack and tell him that he didn’t have to answer when Frank let out a deep exhale through his large nose, touching his index and middle finger over his chest most likely where his wedding band sat beneath his shirt.

“Maria.”

A minuscule smile covered the edge of your mouth as you tilted your head slightly to the side and tried out her name on your tongue.

“Maria. Is this her recipe?”

Frank's eyes flickered over towards the pans and the pot of boiling pasta that were still on the stove. After a moment, he nodded his head and turned his attention back to you with a tender look in his eyes.

“Penne all'Arrabbiata con Manzo. Her grandmother was Sicilian, just like my parents were. She made this every time I came home from a tour.”

The significance and sentiment behind the recipe Frank was cooking made your heart feel like it was going to burst out of your ribcage. Quickly topping off Frank’s empty glass with more wine, you carefully got down from the bar stool that you were sitting on and rounded the island to make your way over to Frank. As you offered him the half full glass of wine, Frank’s eyes flickered curiously between it and your own gaze while his large hand reached out to wrap his fingers around the glass. Smiling softly up at him, you lifted your own glass slightly in the air.

“Well then, to Maria.”

There was a sudden luminescence to Frank’s warm brown eyes, but you didn’t get a chance to study it long before he nodded slightly and his lips stretched faintly into a tiny smile as he delicately clinked his glass against yours and repeated your toast in a more delicate volume of his deep voice.

“To Maria.”

»»———　　———««

“You’re fired.”

Hearty laughter boomed from deep within Frank’s chest and echoed over the crackling firewood currently blazing. He adjusted his position on the couch a few inches away from you, his features highlighted due to the radiant flames cascading from the fireplace in a contorted expression of skepticism and entertainment.

“What? Why?”

“I have known you for seven months, Castle. Seven. Months. And I’m just now finding out you have the culinary skills of a five star chef. Unacceptable. Unforgivable. I’m calling Billy first thing in the morning.”

You couldn’t hardly get through your own sentence without bursting into a fit of laughter, and Frank was in no better shape as he threw his head back against the couch and clutched at his chest with his hand that wasn’t holding his third glass of wine. There were nearly three empty bottles between the two of you forgotten on the dining table, and this was the most loose you had ever seen Frank. Maybe you should get him tipsy more often.

“You can’t fire me.”

“And why not?”

“Cause I ain’t assigned to you no more, brat.”

While Frank teased you nonchalantly as he sipped at his glass and watched the flames dance across the firewood, his words instantly sobered you up. He was right. The Defenders of Freedom had been caught, Steven was facing trial, and there was no reason for Frank to stick around anymore. It was a revelation you had been trying to ignore for the past twenty-four hours. A wave of uncertainty crashed over you in that moment. What would happen between you and Frank? When would he get assigned to someone else? Would that take him far away from you? How long could you stay in this little bubble outside reality?

Glancing down at the wounds in your palm that had steadily begun to heal, you lightly traced your thumb over the raised irritated edges as a thought suddenly flashed across your mind.

“I never thanked you.”

Even though your voice was barely above a whisper, Frank caught it, and he turned his head to look at you intently with slightly confused brows.

“For what?”

Closing your eyes for a moment, you shook your head faintly before looking back at Frank with subtle remorse.

“For everything you’ve done for me. For saving my life, more than once, and-”

Frank instantly brushed off your gratitude with a shake of his own head, reaching over to place his glass of wine on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“It’s my job-”

“No. Your job was to keep me safe, but you did so much more than that. You dealt with all of my shit, fixed every problem I created, and even when Homeland pulled you away, you still showed up for me. Frank, I would be dead if it wasn’t for you. You saved me from those guys at the bar, you saved me from Cavella and Walker, and…you’re still saving me, even now. I could’ve gone to a safe house with Dinah, but you brought me here, even though I’m not your problem anymore-”

Frank reached for your glass of wine and firmly set it on the coffee table, effectively catching your attention while he started almost directly into your soul with a serious expression.

“Hey, you have never been a problem. Ever. You got that?”

There were so many emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface for seven months that you hadn’t been processing, and now they seemed to be rising to a level you could no longer ignore. The verity in Frank’s voice nearly had tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, and you just wanted answers. Why did he care so much? Why was he still protecting you? Why were you here right now?

“Frank…you could’ve walked away. There were so many times you could’ve walked away. Why…why did you stay?”

A substantial weight felt like it had finally been lifted off your chest as you asked the one question that had been lingering in your bones for weeks now. Although that weight was replaced by a lead filled sense of dread while you waited with anxious anticipation for a response, knowing was better than not knowing. 

Frank’s deep brown eyes stared so fiercely into your own, that you felt vulnerably stripped bare despite the clothing covering your body. When he reached his left hand over to place on your jean clad thigh, he grasped it firmly and leaned in just close enough so that you couldn’t escape the enrapture of his gaze.

“I want you to listen to me, right now. I’m always gonna keep you safe, you got that? Job or no job.”

The intensity burning in his eyes and the dropped octave of his rough voice nearly stunned you silent. Your lips parted slightly as if to speak, but your fogged brain struggled to form a coherent sentence. This was the closest you had been to Frank since you had climbed onto his lap in his truck, and you were fighting so hard to not let history repeat itself. But that look…that one goddamn look you could never decipher was roaring fervently in his gaze again, and you were going absolutely mad not knowing what it meant.

Before you even realized what you were doing, you found yourself leaning in closer, staring deeply into Frank’s warm brown eyes with a pleading look reflected in your own desperate stare. You wanted to know why. You needed to know why. And you were begging Frank for a confession that wasn’t encrypted.

“Why?”

“Because you’re mine to protect.”

The possessiveness that dripped from Frank’s low voice had you abruptly clenching your thighs together, trapping his thick fingers between your weakened knees. If he minded the entrapment at all, he didn’t show it. The blaze of the fireplace was no longer what had the temperature steadily rising within your body, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Frank’s vigorous and unwavering stare. Your mouth suddenly felt dry, and even though you had a million questions clamoring through your brain, all you could manage to get out in a hoarse whisper was one you needed confirmation on.

“I am?”

Frank retracted his large hand from your thigh, raising it up slowly to carefully grab your face. A few of his long fingers curled around the back of your neck while his index and middle finger rested along the underside of your jaw, and his thumb pressed lightly against your chin. His heated gaze dropped to your lips momentarily before flickering back up to meet your eyes, and that fire in them was burning bright enough for God herself to see.

“You’re goddamn right.”

Without another word, Frank pulled you in for a searing kiss, pressing his soft lips against yours tentatively but with enough passion to make his answer crystal clear. A delicate noise of surprise sounded in the back of your throat, and for a moment you nearly stopped breathing. If that first kiss in Frank’s truck was a rare comet bursting across the sky, this one felt like a supernova erupting in a kaleidoscope of colors and stardust exploding across the expanse of the universe.

Even as he retracted his lips just a bit to stare deeply into your eyes to gauge your reaction, his hand gently cradling your face kept you firmly in place. All you could do was stare at Frank in complete stupefaction. Your lips were fervently tingling and your body felt like it had been struck by lightning. Frank’s eyes were searching yours for an answer he seemed to desperately need judging by the way his other hand lightly squeezed at your waist.

“If I’m crossin’ a line, you gotta tell me now. Cause I can’t go back, sweetheart.”

The tender emotion entwined within his words nearly made it sound like Frank was begging for your answer, and suddenly it all clicked. You could never figure it out before, but now as you stared at him in complete wonder and paid close attention to his display of vulnerability, you were finally able to decode that cryptic look in Frank’s eyes.

Desire.

“I don’t wanna go back.”

That breathless confession was all Frank needed, and he seemed to groan in relief when you surged forward to capture his lips with renewed vigor. Frank was so much more engaged in this kiss, and you took that as a good sign to give in to every single temptation. Before you could even think about climbing onto his lap, Frank was three steps ahead of you, and his large hands were firmly gripping onto your hips and effortlessly pulling you over to straddle his hips. Frank’s hands were everywhere; kneading at your denim covered thighs, gripping tightly onto your waist, carding his fingers through your hair and grasping at the back of your head to keep you as close as physically possible.

You cupped his face firmly in your hands and seductively swiped your tongue along his bottom lip begging for entrance, causing a low growl to resonate from deep within Frank’s chest, and his large hands suddenly squeezed your ass tightly through your jeans while you moaned when his taste met your tongue. The taste of Frank was much sharper this time, and you felt far more intoxicated by him than the three bottles of wine the two of you had consumed together.

Even with your chest pressed firmly against his own, it felt like you couldn’t physically be close enough. You wanted to be entirely consumed by Frank, to completely melt into the warmth of his skin and breathe his essence into your lungs. The synchronization of your lips and tongues molding together was impeccable, and the world outside ceased to exist while the two of you began to unravel one another.

An overwhelming surge of impatience had you nearly shredding his black henley with your nails while you fervently shoved it up his toned chest, eagerly caressing the scarred canvas of his tan skin with your fingertips like you had been daydreaming about doing since that night in the motel. He didn’t hesitate to teasingly brush his thumbs along the sliver of exposed skin above your hips before pushing your shirt up your waist and over your head. While you tore it off quickly and carelessly discarded it behind you, Frank dove in to attach his lips to the sensitive skin on your neck, dragging his warm and wet tongue along the column of it before gently biting down on the juncture above your collarbone.

A soft moan slipped past your lips and you instinctively rocked your hips against Frank’s lap, coaxing a deep grunt from his chest. He left a searing trail of kisses along your shoulder, the rough pads of his fingers softly tugging the straps of your bra down your arms before splaying both of his large hands against your lower back to pull you further against his own chest. Frank nuzzled his large nose along your neck and whispered huskily into your ear.

“This alright?”

“Yes.”

Unfiltered lust clouded your vision a deep shade of crimson, and you blindly clawed at Frank’s belt while he continued his blazing path of kisses along your jawline and down your neck towards your chest. All of a sudden, his large hands clasped around your wrists gently to halt your movements, and he pulled back a bit to stare deeply into your eyes while panting slightly.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t no rush.”

“Frank, please.”

The desperate plea that sounded from your lips seemed to ignite a brand new fire within Frank, and your consent shredded that last strand of hesitation that was holding him back. He placed his large hands against your ass and lifted you effortlessly in the air, and you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist. Frank easily navigated around the coffee table and slowly knelt down on the fluffy cream colored rug in front of the fireplace, carefully laying you down onto your back. This time when you tugged the leather of his belt away from the buckle, he didn’t stop you, and instead his own deft fingers made lightning work in ridding you of your own jeans.

Slipping one of his hands underneath your back, he easily unhooked your bra with his thumb and index finger, and the second your bare chest was exposed to him, Frank firmly grasped one of your breasts in his calloused hand and took your peaked nipple into his mouth. Your lips parted widely feeling the jolt of pleasure that had you arching your back slightly when he swirled his warm tongue around the sensitive and stiff bud while gently sinking his teeth into the flesh of your breast. 

The sensation elicited a series of breathless whimpers to leave your mouth, and Frank grunted lowly in response as you rolled your hips upwards in search of friction, feeling the heavy heat of his hardened cock against your lower stomach through the thin cotton of his briefs. It was a marvel you hadn’t flooded the cabin with how turned on you currently were, and this wasn’t even scratching the surface of what Frank was going to do to you. You gripped at his bulging biceps, his broad shoulders, dark tufts of his disheveled hair, anything you could get your hands on to keep him close to you. 

Frank began to slowly descend your body, placing his hands firmly on your sides while leaving warm and wet open mouthed kisses down your stomach, even licking a teasing bold stripe above your belly button. The sight alone nearly made your eyes roll into the back of your head and caused you to whine softly, knowing exactly where his next destination was. But as much as you wanted to have Frank’s mouth on you, and God did you want it, you weren’t sure you could stand another second of not knowing what it felt like to have him inside you.

After he slipped your panties down your legs and tossed them aside, you gave his messy cropped curls a gentle tug to get his attention before he could spread your thighs and settle his broad shoulders between the apex of them. Frank glanced up to meet your gaze, his warm brown eyes nearly as black as the coffee he’d consumed this morning due to how wide his pupils were blown open. The hunger eclipsing them caused you to shudder, and you took a mental image of the sight of him nearly naked between your thighs staring at you like a ravenous wolf salivating at the sight of a vulnerable lamb.

“Please, Frank…I need you. I wanna feel you now…please.”

The two of you seemed to be stuck in the same conundrum, caught in tandem between wanting to savor the moment you had both waited so long for, and also wanting to give into the impulses of your magnetizing desire.

As much as you could see in his hungry expression that he wanted to take his time, to devour you slowly and worship every inch of you, the distress dripping from your breathless plea triggered his own raging need, and he silently obeyed while moving upwards again to hover over your body, capturing your lips in a deeply passionate kiss while you ardently pushed his briefs down his hips and off completely. Frank settled between your hips, displacing his heavy body weight by supporting himself on his forearms that were locked on either side of your head. You were completely caged in and at his mercy beneath him, but that was exactly where you wanted to be. 

Frank searched your gaze ardently once again for any sign of hesitation, his dark eyes roaming up and down your face before his tongue quickly darted out to wet his lips.

“We can call it here, ya’know? No hard feelin’s. I can-”

Reaching a hand up to gently hold the side of his face, you placed your thumb against his plump lips to cut off the velvet timbre of his whisper.

“Frank, I want this. I want you. But if you don’t-”

“I do. You got no idea how much I do. But…I want it to be right, yeah?”

A gentle smile covered your lips while gazing up at him in complete adoration.

“Doesn’t this feel right?”

Frank’s eyes flickered between your own and he subtly nodded his head, glancing down at your lips briefly before looking directly into your eyes again.

“Yeah…yeah it does.”

Frank leaned in to capture your lips in a sensual kiss, and the second he nudged the blunt head of his thick cock within your entrance, a sharp gasp flew past your lips and it felt like all the wind had been knocked right out of your lungs. He groaned quietly and nuzzled his large nose against the column of your neck, firmly grasping at your thigh and pulling your leg up and around his waist while he pushed in deeper slowly, one inch at a time.

While your nails instinctively dug fiercely into the muscle of his shoulders, no doubt leaving deep maroon crescent shaped indentations behind, Frank paused for a moment and snaked his hand down between your bodies, lightly brushing the rough pad of his thumb in lazy circles over your clit to help your body relax. You had been soaked through your panties from the moment your lips met, but Frank’s girth wasn’t one your walls had accommodated before, and he did his best to ease the sting of the burning stretch with stimulated pleasure.

“Frank…”

As soon as your hips connected completely and Frank was fully nestled within your tight heat, your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head, and your jaw became completely unhinged as you let out a smooth legato moan. You felt Frank’s body tense above you while he buried his face into your neck, letting out a quiet hiss as he breathed out a shaky deep exhale.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, sweetheart.”

“Oh my God…Frank-”

“I know baby, I know. Gimme a second.”

You don’t know how long it was before Frank finally started moving his hips. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. All you knew was that you had never felt so full and so complete in your entire life. 

Letting out a quiet shudder, Frank slowly retracted his hips just a bit before cresting against you once again like a gentle tide. He removed his face from your neck so he could stare down into your eyes to watch your face, and you gazed up at him with wide-eyed passion and marvel. You brought your other leg up to also wrap around his waist and wrapped your arms securely around his neck, trapping Frank against your body just as much as you were beneath his. 

Frank reached between your chests with his right hand and gripped his wedding band between his thumb and index finger, tossing it and the chain over his back so there was nothing separating the two of you, just his heated skin pressed firmly against yours. Bringing your hands upwards, your trembling fingers weaved through his hair, tugging somewhat roughly at the messy cropped dark strands on top of his head when he began to languidly increase his pace.

It was like you couldn’t speak. Your mouth hung open while you stared up into Frank’s warm brown eyes that seemed to gleam from the amber glow of the fire, but nothing came out except echoes of the pleasure he handcrafted. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, watching in awe as his plump lips parted from panting heavily, his eyes becoming hooded from streams of ecstasy racing through his bloodstream. He gazed down into your eyes in complete adoration, gently stroking his index and middle finger down your cheekbone delicately as you stared up at him with parted lips and pleading eyes. 

Frank brought his left hand up to gently brush your hair away from your forehead, cradling the back of your head while his right one came up once again to gently grab your face. Although this time, his index finger rested along your jawline while his thumb and other fingers laced around your throat carefully, which nearly sent you into a frenzy. He leaned in to teasingly slip his tongue into your mouth, kissing you with such ferocity as if he craved the very breath in your lungs.

Frank vacillated his hips repeatedly against your own in a steady rhythm, but with a meticulous precision that revealed new depths with your body even you weren’t aware of. Every sensual thrust wound that tense coil within you tighter and tighter, and it was only a matter of time before you erupted into gratified pieces of confetti. Reaching a shaky hand up to grip onto the back of his neck, your fingertips vibrated as they brushed over the close shaven hair on the back of his head, and you pulled him down forcefully for another deeply passionate kiss. 

Only when your lungs began to burn due to lack of oxygen did you finally break apart. He leaned in to press his forehead against yours, gazing so deeply into your eyes you swore he could see right into your soul. You stared back up into Frank’s eyes as yours became glossy due to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure you were experiencing. His coarse grunts and reverberating groans echoing in your ears had your toes curling, and as your mouth hung open in silent begging, you nodded swiftly with an expression that let Frank know you felt it too.

“Please…please…”

That familiar bubble of euphoria was starting to expand wider and wider within your lower belly and you weren’t sure how much longer you had before it burst. The way Frank fit perfectly within your body was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, and you were stuck on the cusp of never wanting it to end, but also wanting to see just how far it could go. You had never been with someone that seemed to be so finely in tune with your body, or that genuinely cared about your satisfaction, but Frank was treating your pussy as if he had designed it specifically for himself. The realization of knowing you wouldn’t have to finish yourself off later like you had to with your exes was a welcomed relief, but not knowing what brink of indulgence Frank was about to catapult you over was exhilarating. 

“Frank…Frank…”

“S’alright, baby, I know. Let me have it, yeah? C’mon baby, let go for me.”

A soft whimper slipped past your lips. You were so close, and God you wanted so badly to jump head first into the free fall. But a tiny part of you felt frustrated because you wanted to witness Frank free fall too. You wanted to see him let go, hear his praises of your name, and be coherent enough to feel Frank lose himself.

But you would have to wait your turn, because Frank was sending you barreling towards the edge of an orgasm with every punctual and powerful snap of his hips, and you had no choice but to surrender to the heat of his body enveloping yours in a cocoon of pure warmth and safety. 

Frank grabbed both of your smaller hands and laced your fingers together, giving them a tight squeeze as a tangible reminder he was right there with you. He pinned them gently on the soft rug above your head, his pace becoming a bit sloppy as he began to lose his own composure. 

“Look at me, sweetheart. Let me see them pretty eyes, c’mon. Let me see ‘em.”

You struggled to keep your eyes open until you physically couldn’t, wanting to witness every second of Frank’s own impending climax contorting his features as he fought to control himself until you were ready to let go. 

“There ya go, attagirl. Let go for me, sweetheart. S’alright, let me have it, yeah?”

A symphony of his name played from your lips at a steady crescendo until it filled the entirety of the cabin, and all at once a flash of white exploded behind your eyes as you free fell through space and time, floating in a cloud composed of Frank’s honeyed praises of your name and delicate sweet nothings. You’d given yourself powerful orgasms before but you had never felt something so intense as the delectation Frank created. It felt like you were floating between the astral space between Heaven and Earth, and you weren’t sure you could find your way back to your physical body again.

There was a faint amber glow flickering across your closed lids, and as you slipped in and out of coherence, you felt soft lips delicately pressing against your forehead and the edge of rough fingers gently stroking along your cheekbone lovingly. You didn’t want to move, you weren’t even sure if you could, but there was one thing you did want.

“Frank?”

The voice that resonated in your ears was fuzzy and distant, and it didn’t even sound like it belonged to you. A strong pair of arms wrapped securely around you, pulling you in from your stranded orbit closer towards where you were meant to be, and Frank’s soothing gruff voice quietly dripped a sacred promise into your ear.

“M’here.”

The hypnotic lullaby of his heart’s rhythm tethered you back to the dreamlike reality of Frank holding you against his chest, and that was all you needed to slip away under the blanket of stars that were dancing behind your eyes.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 28

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Pregnancy stuff - bodily fluids, etc.

A/N: Still worried about Daryl's character in this, but I guess I will probably continue to do that since this is a situation we haven't seen him in during these seasons. Anyway, game on.

Two days. Three centimeters. Nothing really new other than a few small, quick contractions that were nothing more than a tightening of your belly. Daryl stayed close, mainly venturing outside only to smoke or relieve himself, and, of course, he accompanied you when you needed to go. At that very moment, you were lying propped up on a mountain of pillows that everyone had given you. Daryl was sitting cross-legged by your feet, sharpening his knife.

“Do you think something’s wrong?” You asked, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth. The archer looked up and studied you, looking back down at the whetstone before shaking his head. The sound of the blade sliding against it made your skin crawl. “Can you—stop that please?” He sighed but sheathed the knife and tossed the whetstone onto the top of the things in his bag. He hadn’t been speaking much which concerned you. You watched him scrub a hand over his face before keeping it there and propping his elbow on his thigh. “Daryl, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.” His voice was gravelly, tired even, but not unkind. You knew he had slept, or had at least been lying down with you while you did. “Ya hurtin’ or anythin’?” He still had his face covered.

“Mm-mm. Thumper’s awake though. It’s Cirque du Soleil in there.” His hand finally moved to smooth back over his hair, leaving the shorter pieces askew. “Hey.” His eyes met yours again, worry evident and overflowing. “Come over here?” His left hand clenched into a fist but then flexed open again. Daryl got to his feet, taking a single step toward you before bending down to press a kiss into your hair. 

“Gonna have a smoke. Right outside if ya need anythin’.”

You watched him go and sighed, turning your attention to your stomach. “I think you’re scaring your daddy, Thumps. Me too, a little bit, if I’m being honest.” The baby hadn’t been as active over the last 24 hours, but Hershel had reassured that it was normal for movement to decrease in the last part of pregnancy. “I don’t know how good of a mom I’m gonna be. I didn’t exactly have a shining example. And your daddy—he’s gonna really need our patience, kiddo. Shit, we’re both gonna need patience.” There was the smallest ripple beneath your palm. “We’re flying blind here.”

Sounds of a scuffle on the porch had you sitting up straight in a flash, eyes wide and darting. 

“Daryl?”

He staggered in the door—walker blood on his arm and his knife—before gaining his footing and bending to grab your boots. “Gotta go!” He was calling for the others while helping you get ready and grabbing up what blankets he could to stuff into the second bag. You could hear the moans and scratches and thumps just outside the wall. “C’mon, just leave the rest. We gotta move.”

You nodded, leaving the remaining blankets, pillows, and your sweatpants. It would be freezing in just your leggings but as long as you were alive, then you couldn’t really complain. 

Daryl threw one of the bags on his back—along with his crossbow—while you shouldered the other bag. Knife in one hand, he took yours in the other and was pulling, the first of the herd of corpses tumbling into the house, slimy fingers grasping so closely that you felt the tug on your hood before they seemed to have lost their grip. 

Everyone was sprinting out the back, Rick waiting until you and Daryl had passed to follow and pull the door closed behind him. The truck was blessedly close. Daryl was pulling the bag from your shoulder and opening the door simultaneously, letting you climb inside while he tossed both packs into the back and rounded to the drivers side. You had the key ready and in the ignition, your heart rate slowing the moment his foot hit the gas. 

“Y’okay?” 

Catching your breath—winded by fear and exertion and well, the extra weight of the human growing inside your belly—you looked over just in time to see him take his right hand off the wheel, flex his fingers as they moved just the slightest distance toward you, and then place it right back where it started. 

“Yeah.” You answered breathlessly, swallowing and nodding. “Yeah, we’re okay.” He relaxed a little. His next question would have been about Thumper, so why not ease his mind quickly? “Are you okay? The one outside, before you—”

“M’alright. Ain’t bit or nothin’.” He mumbled, dragging his left thumb over his bottom lip before he began chewing on the skin there, thickened from all the scarred wounds he had given himself, small as they were. He was anxious. He had every right to be. You could go into labor at any moment and another temporary home had been overrun. It had been months of this shit. Run, run, run, and—for a change of pace—run again. 

Hand steadying your belly, you twisted in the seat to look behind the truck for the headlights of the van. When you didn’t see them, you swiveled back to check the side mirror, finding it easier to watch in that position. There was nothing but the soft red glow of the truck’s tail lights. “I don’t see them.”

“They’ll show an’ we’ll pull off. Come up with somethin’.” His eyes slid over to you and back. “Can’t keep ya out on the road.”

You couldn’t disagree. You could feel your ankles swelling inside your boots. Your pelvis and hips ached, your lower back felt strained. Your stomach was tightening in a small contraction. You were just highly uncomfortable and more than a little tired. Your head fell back against the headrest, eyes closed. You must have dozed because when you opened your eyes, the truck was still and Daryl was gone. 

“Daryl?” You quavered, grabbing the dashboard as you slid to the edge of the seat to be able to survey the surroundings. It was too dark. You could barely see inside the cab itself. “Daryl!” Just as you grabbed for the door handle, the driver’s side door opened at full tilt and the archer peered inside.

“M’right here. Y’okay?”

You exhaled sharply, not even realizing you’d been holding your breath. “What’s going on? Why’re you out there? Are the others here?” 

Daryl looked over his shoulder, tapping his fingers against the top of the door before turning back toward you, looking at the seat instead of meeting your eyes. “Nah, they ain’t here. Ain’t seen no sign’a ‘em.” You could see the same worry you were feeling reflected in his posture. 

“What will we do if they—” You couldn’t say it. You just couldn’t. Why did the world just insist on taking everything? 

“Do whatever we gotta do.” Daryl sniffed, looking over his shoulder again. He was thinking the same thing you were. Neither of you knew the first thing about childbirth. You turned to get out of the truck, an ache in your lower back while your stomach tightened in a contraction making you wince, your fingers wrapped around the door handle. “Stay in the truck.” Your hand fell away but the pain remained. It wasn’t unbearable and after a moment, your muscles loosened. The pain in your back remained but lessened.  “Y’alright?”

“Mhm.” You answered quickly. Laying back against the seat, you blew upward to move an unruly hair from your face. You were so tired but you couldn’t sleep, not while your partner was standing outside the truck alone and keeping watch. It wouldn’t even do much good to try when there was no comfortable position you could find with your back twinging. Still, you found your eyelids drooping. When the truck rocked the slightest bit, you didn’t startle. A warm hand wrapped around your shoulders and pulled, and you let yourself be guided to lie on Daryl’s thigh.

“Get some sleep.”

With a hum, you turned to face his stomach so your own could rest upon the seat. His hand settled on your ribs. 

“I love you.” You mumbled, already halfway gone into slumber. The last thing you felt was his fingertips graze along your jaw.

It was daylight when you next opened your eyes, the taut skin of your stomach pulling uncomfortably tight while your back spasmed. The contractions themselves were merely annoying while the pain in your back was constant, made worse when your muscles tensed. Grimacing, you glowered at your belly. “Good morning to you, too.” You were no longer pillowed on Daryl’s thigh, actually alone in the cab. You made it up to an elbow when you heard voices. Familiar voice.

“You sure you’re alright? Y/N alright?"

“She’s sleepin’.”

You had to grab the steering wheel to haul yourself upright, opting for the passenger door. Carol was the first to see you and sprinted in your direction. You stood still and let her come to you, your ankles just too swollen and sore to move more than necessary. Once reaching you, she wrapped her arms around your shoulders with a little less enthusiasm so as not to jar you. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay. When we didn’t see the truck—”

“I know. I was freaking out when I couldn’t see the van.” 

She brushed your hair away from your face once she let you go. “We had to go around the herd and then figure out which direction you two went.” You smiled, but it was a weak attempt. Your back was still aching. “Are you okay?” Behind her, Daryl was watching you. You wondered if he was hearing anything Rick was saying.

You waved her off. “Yeah, I’m fine. So, what’s the plan?”

“Heading South, I guess? I’m not sure. I mean, the main thing is to find somewhere safe enough for you to have that baby. Lori won’t be far behind. A few weeks, at most.” Her eyes dropped to where your hand rested on your stomach and then back again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Go see what’s going on. I don’t really feel like walking over there. I”m just gonna wait in the truck.” After a moment, Carol acquiesced, calling over her shoulder for you to yell if you needed anything. You waved your hand over your head and let it fall to your back, pressing in on where the ache continued. Maybe it was time to tell Daryl something else was happening. Opening the door, you lifted your foot from the ground when you felt something gush from your opening, wetting your underwear and leggings. “Oh, great. And now I pissed myself. Way to go, Y/N!” 

You left the door open and stepped back so you could reach into the truck bed for your bag. You’d have to change but you really really did not want to tell Daryl that had just happened. He was your partner and you were pregnant, so he’d understand but you were sure to get a ya did what now and that would just make you feel more embarrassed. Maybe you could call Carol over and she could help you out of the soiled clothes and hide them until they could be washed. 

Standing on your tiptoes, you grabbed the soft handle of your bag when it happened again. Less of a gush, but a noticeable flow. That’s when reality roundhouse kicked you in the teeth.

Oh shit.

“Hey, Daryl.” You kept your tone even, unalarmed even if you were being absolutely ravaged by panic inside. You left the bag and lowered back down to be flat on your feet. Daryl’s boots were loud on the pavement but at a slow stride. Good. You hadn’t terrified him. 

Yet.

“Yeah?” He noticed where you were standing and glanced into the truck bed. “Need your bag?”

“Well, yes and no.” Your abdomen tightened again, still painless, but aggravating the cramping in your back to a new level. With a hiss through your teeth, you knew you had his full attention without even looking at him.

“S’wrong?” 

You were staring at your feet, expression pinched with pain and concentration while you persevered through the episode. Why the fuck did your back hurt? All too soon, Daryl’s boots were right in front of yours. “I—I think my water broke.” When you could finally think past the throb that was slowly ebbing away into the continuous ache, you raised your head to find him staring at the ground. And then your pants. “What?”

“Ain’t there supposed to be—I dunno—a lot?”

“How the hell should I know? You think I give birth on a regular basis?” You snapped, immediately murmuring an apology. 

“Ya sure ya didn’t just—”

“No, I didn’t piss myself.” More fluid trickled from within you, a miniscule amount but enough to be noticed. “At least I think I didn’t? I mean, I was expecting more of a whoosh. Like Noah’s Ark level of liquid, you know?” And then you were silent. And so was he. You stared at one another, each waiting for the other to say something.

Daryl cleared his throat. “M’gonna—gonna get Hershel.” He turned but barely managed a step before he stopped, looking back over his shoulder. “Or I can stay here? Do ya need me here?”

“Just get Hershel. I’ll be fine for now. Can you get Carol too, please?” You watched him nod, noticed the tick in his clenched jaw, the way he was tapping each fingertip of his right hand against his thumb rhythmically. He was freaking out. And as you felt more liquid soaking into the fabric of your underwear and leggings, so were you. You were wet all the way down past your knees. 

“Daryl said you needed me.” Carol’s voice brought your head up, your expression triggering the worry that took over her own. “What’s wrong?”

“I think—I either really had to pee or my water broke.” You shifted from foot to foot, carefully keeping your thighs apart. You had never felt so humiliated in your entire life. If your father could see you now—well, honestly he’d probably be laughing and saying take it easy, peanut, it’s just some wet pants. 

“It’s okay.” Carol soothed, encircling her arms around your shoulders. “Anything else going on? Contractions?” You nodded. “How often?”

“I don’t know. Like maybe every half hour but my back is killing me. It just—it hasn’t stopped hurting since it started last night.” She was listening so intently that it made you nervous. “The contractions don’t hurt, but man, they make the back pain fucking horrible.”

Carol smoothed your hair and took your face in her hands, giving you that sweet Carol smile. “Sweetheart, I think that your water did break and that you’re in labor.” You felt your eyes widen and your breaths coming quicker. “It’s okay, just breathe. Daryl’s on his way over with Hershel.”

Daryl came straight to you, the nervousness surrounding him so strongly that it made your chest tighten further. He didn’t say anything as he usually did when you floundered over your responses. When Hershel asked permission to examine you then and there, you began to fidget. 

“I guess there’s not much of a choice, is there?” You lamented, looking to your partner. His head was down and he was trembling. You’d have to talk to him later when there was no one else around. 

“I’m afraid not.” Hershel could see you were anxious. His soft spoken words were proof enough of that. 

Daryl climbed into the cab first and helped you in, letting you rest your head on his thigh while Carol pulled off your sodden leggings and underwear. The examination was quick, much to your relief. 

“As far as I can tell, it was indeed your water breaking. We have no litmus paper for confirmation, but the source of the fluid appears to be from the vaginal opening and not the urethra.” You knew this would happen eventually but that made it no less terrifying. “You can likely expect the contractions to become more intense, closer together as you dilate. They may or may not be painful as we talked about. Daryl, you’ll need to time them.”

“Okay.” Was all he said, quiet and contemplative. Hands at your shoulder blades, he helped you to sit up.

“Rick,” the vet called out, “we need to find somewhere safe and fast.” The deputy jogged over, looking quizzically between all the faces. Carol quickly occupied the old man’s place with fresh clothing from your bag, covering your lower half from view. “Y/N will be giving birth soon and needs a quiet, safe enough place to deliver.”

“These are likely to get wet too, but you can’t ride around in soaked clothing. Beth and Maggie had some pads, so I thought maybe they could help, too.” You nodded robotically. This should be the happiest experience of your life and all you could feel was an overwhelming sense of foreboding. What if you screamed during the birth and brought down a herd? What if the baby cried too loud? What if something went wrong? What if? What if? What if?

Carol helped you get dressed and situated in the truck while Daryl looked over a map with the others. You watched him from the side mirror, smiling when you saw that he could barely focus, continuously glancing toward the truck. You could feel the beginnings of another contraction, the twitching inside before your stomach would tighten and you’d need to breathe through the pain in your back. It still wasn’t unbearable but it was enough to coax a whimper from your lips. Right in the middle of the episode, there was a gentle tap on the window. Lori was looking through the glass sympathetically, waiting patiently until you could use the window crank.

“How’re you holding up?” She asked, reaching in to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

You saw no reason to lie. “I’m terrified.” Wringing your hands over your belly, you sniffled in an attempt to hold back the tears. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. “I don’t know what to expect. The pain, you know. What if I cause someone to get hurt because I can’t take it? What if something’s wrong with Thumper? What if—”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Her hand landed gently on your shoulder and you lost the battle with the tears that were demanding to fall. “Everything you’re feeling is normal. Well, as normal as it can be in a world full of the walking dead. It’s all going to be fine. All things considered, you’ve handled this pregnancy like a warrior. I have no doubt that you’ll get through bringing that baby into the world just fine.”

You wiped at your face almost angrily. “Really?”

“Really.” She smiled, looking as if she were going to say something else but her eyes moved to somewhere behind you. She squeezed your shoulder. “It’ll all be okay. We’re going to be leaving soon. We’ll find a safe place.” Another glance behind you and, holding her smile, she walked away. 

You were rolling up the window when the driver’s door opened and Daryl climbed in, shutting the door behind him. “Ya doin’ okay?” His voice was just as shaky as he was.

“I’m okay.” You kept your expression soft and reached for his hand. He let you take it. “Are you okay?” 

“Mhm.” He squeezed your fingers and pulled his hand back to start the engine and take hold of the shifter but he didn’t move it.

“Daryl?”

“M’scared shitless.” You blinked for a moment before quickly dismissing the shock from your expression. “Dunno what m’doin’. Dunno how—what m’s’posed to do to help you.” He was staring straight ahead, carefully avoiding your gaze. It was obvious that wasn’t easy for him to admit. 

“Hey.” He ducked his head but he didn’t look at you. “We’re both lost here, but we’ve made it this far.” With a noise of effort and discomfort, you scooted across the seat. The movement had him looking your way with a quick turn of his head.

“What—quit it ‘fore ya—”

“Shut up.” You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him forward for a kiss. It was difficult to hold the position you found yourself in, your back singing with pain, but you both needed the comfort, the closeness. When you separated, you kept the hold on his neck and pressed your forehead to his. “We’re in this together. ‘We’ll handle it’, remember?” Clearing his throat, he waited a moment before he nodded, his forehead bumping yours. 

The van pulled up alongside the truck. With a last kiss to his forehead, you slid back across the seat and slouched to take some of the pressure off your back. Daryl nodded to Rick and then pulled off the roadside and followed behind the others.

“That one actually hurt.” You breathed, rubbing a hand over your belly as the pain faded. You’d been on the road for about three hours, stopping at two homes, both with too many dead wandering too close by. Daryl glanced up at you and then back to the watch he had balanced on top of the steering wheel.

“Last one was ‘bout 21 minutes ago, this’un was ‘bout 52 seconds.” He sat the watch on the seat by his leg and switched hands on the wheel, resting his left elbow on the window panel so he could rub his thumb back and forth across his lip while he obviously chewed the inside of his cheek.

“So they’re lasting about the same amount of time but they’re definitely getting closer together.” Shifting in the seat a little, you hissed at the twinge of pain in your back. “God, my back is the worst part right now, but if it doesn’t get any worse than this, I’ll be golden.” You were very doubtful you’d be that lucky but one could dream, right?

“M’sorry.” Daryl mumbled from behind his thumb.

Your brow furrowed, your head shaking back and forth in confusion. “Why are you sorry?”

“M’the reason you’re goin’ through this.” He cleared his throat sharply, biting into the side of his thumb with more vigor than you’d ever seen before.

“Last time I checked, I was a willing participant in the creation of this tiny human.” You chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. There was a dense fog of tension building inside the cab, one you intended to disperse as quickly as possible before it could soak into either one of you. “This is our baby, Daryl. We decided to do this together.” You started to reach for him but thought better of it for the moment. “We’re going to do this together.”

He looked over at you, glancing back at the road every few seconds. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

You shook your head and smiled fondly. “If the baby is as quiet as you are when they’re upset, then we won’t need to worry about them attracting walkers.” You had meant it as a joke but the archer immediately blanched. “No, Daryl, I just—shit, that was the worst. I’m sorry.”

“Babies cry. How—what—”

“We’ll deal with it when we have to deal with it. Right now, let’s just focus on actually having a baby, okay?” That was enough to at least have him lapse into silence with a nod. You watched the sky darken, knowing two things: there would be no shelter before dark and the vehicles would soon need fuel. Daryl must have been thinking the same, his eyes darting down toward the dashboard. His thumb was hovering in front of his mouth, a smear of blood on each.

“Gonna have to camp tonight.” He swallowed so hard that you saw his throat working. “They’re gonna hafta go lookin’ for fuel.”

“You’re not—”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” The conviction in his tone filled your chest with warmth, even if he didn’t look at you. You couldn’t express your appreciation before another contraction began to build.

“Fuck.” You breathed, holding the side of your belly with one hand while the other reached for the dash. Daryl didn’t need clarification, just reached to pick up the watch. Your back screamed while your stomach tightened and cramped, pulling a whimper from within you that you couldn’t seem to stifle. Breathe, idiot, you told yourself. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It wasn’t the worst pain you’d ever felt, but it still fucking hurt. Seconds felt like hours but soon enough, you could feel the pain ebbing away, your body relaxing. “Christ.” You fell back against the seat, completely wrung out. 

Daryl was still holding the watch, glancing between it, you, and the road. “Minute an' four seconds, last'un was 19 minutes ago.” Before you could comment, the truck sputtered and jerked. The archer was barely able to get it onto the side of the road before it died. He flashed the lights to signal the van, the brake lights illuminating the road ahead as Rick turned around. Daryl’s hands dropped to his lap, his head bowed to stare at them. “Gettin’ closer together.” He almost whispered.

“Yeah.” It was all you could think of to say. “I am not having this baby on the side of the road.” Even as the words left your mouth, you didn’t believe a single syllable.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 3

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: After your "date" with Tyler took an unexpected turn, you wake up to see Scott confronting the cowboy about your disappearance. Word Count: 2045 TW: Fluff, Angst, Family Conflict, Confrontation, Yelling, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

“Where the fuck is she, Owens!” 

As your eyes flickered open, you realized you were no longer lying on Tyler’s chest in the bed of his truck. Instead, you were curled in the back seat, one of his merch t-shirts balled up under your head and his jacket draped over your body as a makeshift blanket. Your head was positioned near the passenger side of the truck and, lifting it slightly, you noticed the driver’s door was open. Tyler was standing outside as if he had just climbed out, the little you could see of his surroundings revealing he had driven you back to the motel.

He turned towards whoever had just spoken—the voice was very familiar even though your sleep-hazed mind couldn’t place it—and held up his hands. “Why don’t we all just calm down an—”

“No!” Suddenly, Scott burst into view as he stormed up to Tyler, stopping only when he was practically chest-to-chest with him. Scott towered a good five or six inches over the other man, yet Tyler didn’t as much as flinch as Scott growled in his face. “I asked you a question. Where the fuck is she?”

Tyler stared calmly at Scott’s fuming face for a moment then chuckled. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen you lose your cool like this before, Scotty. In fact, can’t say I’ve seen much more than a sarcastic sneer from you before. Something must have riled you up real good for you to be in this state.” Tyler’s voice had slowed, his accent becoming twice as heavy as before as he milked every second in an attempt to push Scott’s buttons—and it was working.

Nostrils flaring, Scott yelled, “How about the fact you’ve been alone with my little sister for the past four hours? I’ve been trying to call and text her but she hasn’t answered.” 

You suddenly realized you had tucked your phone into your purse when you left the motel room. The purse that you had then placed on the passenger’s seat when Tyler helped you down after parking in the field so you could both go eat your food in the bed of his truck. The one you had completely forgotten about until just now. Oops.

But Tyler didn’t offer any such explanation. “We were busy,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “Besides, are you really worried about her, or are you just worried she was having a good time with someone like me?”

“If you laid a single finger on her—”

“No. You don’t get to do that.” The smug grin that had been on Tyler’s face evaporated as he became stone-serious. Whatever game he had been playing was now over. He took a step forward, this sudden shift causing Scott to stumble back in surprise. “You don’t get to play caring, protective older brother when just a few hours ago you basically told her to fuck off because you didn’t want her here. I understand you two might have a complicated history, but family isn’t something you can pick and choose when it's convenient for you. You didn’t want anything to do with her after she traveled all this way just to see you, so you don’t get a say in what she does now.”

Scott recovered slightly, but though he tried to bite back with the same fury as before, it seemed dulled by the force of Tyler’s words. “And you do?”

“No, I don’t. Only she does.” Tyler started to turn towards his open door but then thought better of it and faced Scott again. Lowering his voice, he said, “You know, I used to think you were in the wrong truck. That you should be in Tin Man instead of Scarecrow considering how cold and uncaring you seemed. But I was wrong. You may have your fancy degree from a world-class university yet you are too brainless to see that all she’s looking for is just a little of your attention and love. And if you aren’t willing to give that to her, you can’t get mad when she finds someone else who will.”

Scott sneered at Tyler. “You’ve known her for a few hours and you think you know her better than someone who’s known her her entire life?”

“Yeah. I do.” 

The back door to the truck flung open and you blinked up at the bright lights shining in. Tyler stood in the door with a halo of neon light framing his silhouette, anger rolling off of him in waves. His jaw was clenched tightly and his eyes burned beneath his cowboy hat. However, when he saw you staring up at him, his expression softened. Giving you a small smile, he murmured, “Hey, sweetheart. You want me to carry you to your room or you think you’re awake enough to walk?”

Stretching to help wake up your limbs from where you had been curled, you sat up. “I can walk.” Ducking your head to hide the bashful smile fluttering on your lips, you added a soft, “Thanks though.” 

Grabbing your purse off the front seat, you started to crawl towards the door when Tyler offered you his hand. You took it and slid out, a small cloud of dust bursting up around your ankles as your boots hit the dirt. Tyler reached back into the truck, grabbed his jacket, and wrapped it around your shoulders before placing his arm on top of it, hugging you close to his body. The warmth radiating off of him and the smell of his skin made you want to snuggle deeper into him and drift back to sleep. 

Maybe you should have taken him up on his offer to carry you after all.

As he began to steer you towards the stairs leading to your room, you noticed Scott standing by the rear of the truck with his arms folded across his chest. The two of you made eye contact for just a moment, but you quickly looked away. You didn’t like the look in your brother’s eyes—the seething anger and blatant disappointment you were used to, but it was that hint of something else that made you turn away and lean your head against Tyler’s shoulder. If you didn’t know Scott better, you would almost say he looked hurt. But that couldn’t be possible because Scott would have to care about you for him to be hurt by Tyler’s words or by seeing you together.

Thankfully, he didn’t say anything else as Tyler helped you climb the stairs. Letting out a soft sigh of relief when your brother disappeared from view, you whispered, “Thank you. For standing up to Scott for me.”

“You heard that?” You nodded against Tyler’s shoulder and you felt him shift beneath you. “Yeah, well, he had the right to be worried about you, but he also needed to be reminded he wasn’t a saint in this situation. Besides, you’re an adult and can spend time with whoever you want.”

You hummed a soft agreement before, a few dozen steps later, reluctantly pulling yourself away from Tyler as you reached the correct door. “Well, this is me.” 

He watched as you unlocked the door and stepped inside. Turning to face him, you said, “I know I already said it, but thank you…for everything. I-I really needed that, out in the field. It helped. And while today did not go at all how I expected, I’m actually very happy with how it turned out.”

“Me too, sweetheart.” 

The two of you continued smiling at each other and you weren’t exactly sure what you were supposed to do next. But just as you started to close the door, Tyler leaned his shoulder against your door frame and said, “Hey, whether you’re done messing with Scott or not, I’d like to see you tomorrow.”

You blinked, butterflies blooming in your chest. “R-really?”

“Yeah. I had a really nice time tonight. It’s not every day I meet someone like you and I’d like to see more.”

Someone like me? You briefly flashed back to yourself sobbing into his chest in the bed of his truck and wondered what he could have possibly seen in you that he would want to see more of. However, you weren’t going to pass up this chance if he was offering. 

Fidgeting with the strap on your purse, you nodded, “I’d like to see more of you too. Maybe you could let me come on a chase with you or something?”

Tyler’s dimples made your breath catch in your throat as his smile widened. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more interesting…I would love to take you on a chase. Show you what it means to wrangle a tornado. How ‘bout I pick you up in the morning around 7:30?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Nodding, Tyler reached out and took your hand. For a moment, you were taken aback. You might not have known each other long, but after everything that had happened tonight, it felt weird for him to end it by shaking your hand. But then he lifted it, his face disappearing beneath the brim of his hat as he dipped his head, and his lips brushed the back of your hand. 

The kiss was brief and faint, just a soft caress on your skin contrasted by the rough scratch of his stubble, yet you felt a jolt of electricity surge up your arm before traveling throughout your entire body. You were so glad your other hand was still clinging to the door because, without it to steady you, you were sure your knees would have given out. 

Tyler didn’t seem to notice as he straightened up and gently lowered your hand to your side, giving it a light squeeze before releasing it. Then, with a tip of his hat and a wink, he said, “Good night,” and strolled back down the walkway towards the stairs.  

You watched him go until he disappeared. Only then did you close your door, leaning heavily on it with a sigh. Your head thudded back against the sturdy metal as you replayed every moment from the night in your head.

What were you doing? Had this really all started as a game, a way to pay Scott back for how he treated you? Now Tyler was planning on picking you up the next morning after you spent most of tonight crying into his chest? And why did you feel so giddy about seeing him again?

Tyler wasn’t at all what you had expected from his videos or from what Scott had said about him. Sure, he had a wild, playful side, but more than that, he was funny and kind and smart and, to top it all off, a perfect gentleman. You can’t remember the last time someone had treated you with so much respect or consideration. He never tried to make a move or insinuate you owed him for the fact that he was doing you a favor. And even when he pulled you into his arms where it would have been easy to take advantage of your emotional state, he had only sought to comfort you and make sure you were okay. 

Then he had to go and kiss your hand like some handsome cowboy prince charming! What the fuck.

Pushing yourself off the door, you went over and grabbed a towel off the edge of the sink before disappearing into the dingy bathroom. Tyler’s scent still clung to your skin and you almost didn’t want to wash it off. However, the desire to rinse away the remaining tears from your face and feel the hot water streaming down your exhausted, tense muscles won out. You would just have to find another excuse to cozy up to Tyler again tomorrow. Maybe another meal next to him in the back of the truck. Or resting on his shoulder as you both watched the storm clouds roll in. Or pressing yourself against him as you leaned in—

It was only then that the full weight of your situation hit you. This might have started out as an act of revenge on Scott, but the joke was now on you. After only one day, you were falling fast and hard for Tyler Owens.

Part 4 coming 9/2!

Tag list: @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @blue-aconite, @hederasgarden, @writercole,

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@lonelyghosts-stuff

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 3

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: After your "date" with Tyler took an unexpected turn, you wake up to see Scott confronting the cowboy about your disappearance. Word Count: 2045 TW: Fluff, Angst, Family Conflict, Confrontation, Yelling, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

“Where the fuck is she, Owens!” 

As your eyes flickered open, you realized you were no longer lying on Tyler’s chest in the bed of his truck. Instead, you were curled in the back seat, one of his merch t-shirts balled up under your head and his jacket draped over your body as a makeshift blanket. Your head was positioned near the passenger side of the truck and, lifting it slightly, you noticed the driver’s door was open. Tyler was standing outside as if he had just climbed out, the little you could see of his surroundings revealing he had driven you back to the motel.

He turned towards whoever had just spoken—the voice was very familiar even though your sleep-hazed mind couldn’t place it—and held up his hands. “Why don’t we all just calm down an—”

“No!” Suddenly, Scott burst into view as he stormed up to Tyler, stopping only when he was practically chest-to-chest with him. Scott towered a good five or six inches over the other man, yet Tyler didn’t as much as flinch as Scott growled in his face. “I asked you a question. Where the fuck is she?”

Tyler stared calmly at Scott’s fuming face for a moment then chuckled. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen you lose your cool like this before, Scotty. In fact, can’t say I’ve seen much more than a sarcastic sneer from you before. Something must have riled you up real good for you to be in this state.” Tyler’s voice had slowed, his accent becoming twice as heavy as before as he milked every second in an attempt to push Scott’s buttons—and it was working.

Nostrils flaring, Scott yelled, “How about the fact you’ve been alone with my little sister for the past four hours? I’ve been trying to call and text her but she hasn’t answered.” 

You suddenly realized you had tucked your phone into your purse when you left the motel room. The purse that you had then placed on the passenger’s seat when Tyler helped you down after parking in the field so you could both go eat your food in the bed of his truck. The one you had completely forgotten about until just now. Oops.

But Tyler didn’t offer any such explanation. “We were busy,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “Besides, are you really worried about her, or are you just worried she was having a good time with someone like me?”

“If you laid a single finger on her—”

“No. You don’t get to do that.” The smug grin that had been on Tyler’s face evaporated as he became stone-serious. Whatever game he had been playing was now over. He took a step forward, this sudden shift causing Scott to stumble back in surprise. “You don’t get to play caring, protective older brother when just a few hours ago you basically told her to fuck off because you didn’t want her here. I understand you two might have a complicated history, but family isn’t something you can pick and choose when it's convenient for you. You didn’t want anything to do with her after she traveled all this way just to see you, so you don’t get a say in what she does now.”

Scott recovered slightly, but though he tried to bite back with the same fury as before, it seemed dulled by the force of Tyler’s words. “And you do?”

“No, I don’t. Only she does.” Tyler started to turn towards his open door but then thought better of it and faced Scott again. Lowering his voice, he said, “You know, I used to think you were in the wrong truck. That you should be in Tin Man instead of Scarecrow considering how cold and uncaring you seemed. But I was wrong. You may have your fancy degree from a world-class university yet you are too brainless to see that all she’s looking for is just a little of your attention and love. And if you aren’t willing to give that to her, you can’t get mad when she finds someone else who will.”

Scott sneered at Tyler. “You’ve known her for a few hours and you think you know her better than someone who’s known her her entire life?”

“Yeah. I do.” 

The back door to the truck flung open and you blinked up at the bright lights shining in. Tyler stood in the door with a halo of neon light framing his silhouette, anger rolling off of him in waves. His jaw was clenched tightly and his eyes burned beneath his cowboy hat. However, when he saw you staring up at him, his expression softened. Giving you a small smile, he murmured, “Hey, sweetheart. You want me to carry you to your room or you think you’re awake enough to walk?”

Stretching to help wake up your limbs from where you had been curled, you sat up. “I can walk.” Ducking your head to hide the bashful smile fluttering on your lips, you added a soft, “Thanks though.” 

Grabbing your purse off the front seat, you started to crawl towards the door when Tyler offered you his hand. You took it and slid out, a small cloud of dust bursting up around your ankles as your boots hit the dirt. Tyler reached back into the truck, grabbed his jacket, and wrapped it around your shoulders before placing his arm on top of it, hugging you close to his body. The warmth radiating off of him and the smell of his skin made you want to snuggle deeper into him and drift back to sleep. 

Maybe you should have taken him up on his offer to carry you after all.

As he began to steer you towards the stairs leading to your room, you noticed Scott standing by the rear of the truck with his arms folded across his chest. The two of you made eye contact for just a moment, but you quickly looked away. You didn’t like the look in your brother’s eyes—the seething anger and blatant disappointment you were used to, but it was that hint of something else that made you turn away and lean your head against Tyler’s shoulder. If you didn’t know Scott better, you would almost say he looked hurt. But that couldn’t be possible because Scott would have to care about you for him to be hurt by Tyler’s words or by seeing you together.

Thankfully, he didn’t say anything else as Tyler helped you climb the stairs. Letting out a soft sigh of relief when your brother disappeared from view, you whispered, “Thank you. For standing up to Scott for me.”

“You heard that?” You nodded against Tyler’s shoulder and you felt him shift beneath you. “Yeah, well, he had the right to be worried about you, but he also needed to be reminded he wasn’t a saint in this situation. Besides, you’re an adult and can spend time with whoever you want.”

You hummed a soft agreement before, a few dozen steps later, reluctantly pulling yourself away from Tyler as you reached the correct door. “Well, this is me.” 

He watched as you unlocked the door and stepped inside. Turning to face him, you said, “I know I already said it, but thank you…for everything. I-I really needed that, out in the field. It helped. And while today did not go at all how I expected, I’m actually very happy with how it turned out.”

“Me too, sweetheart.” 

The two of you continued smiling at each other and you weren’t exactly sure what you were supposed to do next. But just as you started to close the door, Tyler leaned his shoulder against your door frame and said, “Hey, whether you’re done messing with Scott or not, I’d like to see you tomorrow.”

You blinked, butterflies blooming in your chest. “R-really?”

“Yeah. I had a really nice time tonight. It’s not every day I meet someone like you and I’d like to see more.”

Someone like me? You briefly flashed back to yourself sobbing into his chest in the bed of his truck and wondered what he could have possibly seen in you that he would want to see more of. However, you weren’t going to pass up this chance if he was offering. 

Fidgeting with the strap on your purse, you nodded, “I’d like to see more of you too. Maybe you could let me come on a chase with you or something?”

Tyler’s dimples made your breath catch in your throat as his smile widened. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more interesting…I would love to take you on a chase. Show you what it means to wrangle a tornado. How ‘bout I pick you up in the morning around 7:30?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Nodding, Tyler reached out and took your hand. For a moment, you were taken aback. You might not have known each other long, but after everything that had happened tonight, it felt weird for him to end it by shaking your hand. But then he lifted it, his face disappearing beneath the brim of his hat as he dipped his head, and his lips brushed the back of your hand. 

The kiss was brief and faint, just a soft caress on your skin contrasted by the rough scratch of his stubble, yet you felt a jolt of electricity surge up your arm before traveling throughout your entire body. You were so glad your other hand was still clinging to the door because, without it to steady you, you were sure your knees would have given out. 

Tyler didn’t seem to notice as he straightened up and gently lowered your hand to your side, giving it a light squeeze before releasing it. Then, with a tip of his hat and a wink, he said, “Good night,” and strolled back down the walkway towards the stairs.  

You watched him go until he disappeared. Only then did you close your door, leaning heavily on it with a sigh. Your head thudded back against the sturdy metal as you replayed every moment from the night in your head.

What were you doing? Had this really all started as a game, a way to pay Scott back for how he treated you? Now Tyler was planning on picking you up the next morning after you spent most of tonight crying into his chest? And why did you feel so giddy about seeing him again?

Tyler wasn’t at all what you had expected from his videos or from what Scott had said about him. Sure, he had a wild, playful side, but more than that, he was funny and kind and smart and, to top it all off, a perfect gentleman. You can’t remember the last time someone had treated you with so much respect or consideration. He never tried to make a move or insinuate you owed him for the fact that he was doing you a favor. And even when he pulled you into his arms where it would have been easy to take advantage of your emotional state, he had only sought to comfort you and make sure you were okay. 

Then he had to go and kiss your hand like some handsome cowboy prince charming! What the fuck.

Pushing yourself off the door, you went over and grabbed a towel off the edge of the sink before disappearing into the dingy bathroom. Tyler’s scent still clung to your skin and you almost didn’t want to wash it off. However, the desire to rinse away the remaining tears from your face and feel the hot water streaming down your exhausted, tense muscles won out. You would just have to find another excuse to cozy up to Tyler again tomorrow. Maybe another meal next to him in the back of the truck. Or resting on his shoulder as you both watched the storm clouds roll in. Or pressing yourself against him as you leaned in—

It was only then that the full weight of your situation hit you. This might have started out as an act of revenge on Scott, but the joke was now on you. After only one day, you were falling fast and hard for Tyler Owens.

Part 4 coming 9/2!

[dixons-sunshine]

Study Buddy | Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine.*

Summary: Your exams were coming up soon. While studying for your history exam, you offered to tutor your boyfriend. However, Daryl accidentally revealed that he's much smarter at school than he gave himself credit for.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Pre apocalypse.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU.

Warnings: Swearing.

Word count: 1.3k.

A/n: This sucks. I don't like this at all, but I really wanted to get some actual writing done, so I powered through. I hope you like this nonetheless.

The late afternoon sun was starting its slow descend beyond the hills. The birds' chirps were slowly being replaced by those of crickets, and the owls were making their presence known one by one. There was a lone pigeon resting on the bench outside your trailer home, but the unsuspecting creature was startled by the rumbling of a stopping truck.

Daryl Dixon got out of the truck his brother had unofficially given him, a shopping bag with multiple snacks and a few drinks in his hand. He slammed the driver's side door shut behind him before walking up the small steps into your trailer. Without even really thinking about it, Daryl walked down the familiar narrow hallway that lead to your room.

The sound of your door opening diverted your attention away from the history textbook that rested on your bed. An enormous smile spread across your face at the sight of your handsome boyfriend. You got up from the bed and walked over to him, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a soft, tender kiss.

Daryl, shy as ever, could feel his face heat up at your actions, but he didn't resist. His hand that wasn't holding the bag rested on the small of your back, his fingers lightly gripping at your sweater. When you pulled back, he gave you a lopsided smile, his eyes holding a softness that he reserved only for you.

You smiled at him, your fingers playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. “Hey, handsome,” you greeted him in a whisper. “Took you long enough.”

Daryl chuckled and shrugged. “Sorry, sunshine. Got caught up at the store,” he explained, pulling back from your hold slightly to reach into the bag and take out a soda for you. “Got yer favourite for ya.”

You gently took the drink from his hands, sending him a look of appreciation. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

Daryl ducked his head in embarrassment, his cheeks taking on the colour of the red rose bush outside your window. “Ya might've mentioned it once or twice.”

“Well,” you began, popping the lid of the can open. “Then I definitely don't tell you that enough. I love you, Dar.”

“Love ya too, peach.” Daryl smiled a small smile, before moving to plop down on your bed. He picked up the textbook that rested on your bed and started flipping through it, his eyes skimming over the pages. “Ya already started studyin'?”

You sat down next to him, placing the can of soda on your nightstand. “Only to make flashcards.” To prove your point, you picked up the aforementioned flashcards from your nightstand. “I was just skimming through for good measure. Just wanted to make sure I didn't miss anything important.” You made yourself more comfortable on the bed, adjusting the flashcards. “You ready to get some studying done?”

Daryl nodded. “How's this gon' work?” he asked.

“Well, I wanna see how much you know, so I'm gonna start asking random questions to see what we need to pay special attention to.”

“Alrigh',” Daryl shrugged nonchalantly. “Do yer worst.”

You smirked playfully. “I'll try my best.” You shuffled the cards, selecting a random one. “Okay, let's start easy. When did the Second World War start?”

“September 1st, 1939. Tha's when it was generally considered to have started. S'when the Nazi's invaded Poland,” Daryl replied with zero hesitation, absentmindedly twirling one of the loose threads on your blanket. “The UK and France officially declared war on the third, two days after the invasion.”

You looked at your boyfriend with raised eyebrows, impressed by the way he answered the question so easily and proceeded to answer two separate questions without being asked to do so. You knew Daryl was smart, there was no doubt about that, but you were still a bit surprised. Daryl made it no secret to you that he wasn't the best student, so his perfect answer to the question was a nice surprise.

“Correct,” you told him with a smile. “Next question: How many alliances were there in the Second World War, and what were they called?”

Daryl pondered over the question for a moment. “Two. The Allies and the Axis Powers, right?”

You flipped the flashcard over and read the answer, humming in approval. “Correct again. You're on a roll, Dar.”

Daryl shook his head, shrugging nonchalantly. “Ya ain't askin' any hard questions. Everybody knows the answers to those.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully, shuffling through the flashcards again to find a different question. “Okay, then, smart guy. How about this one: Which cities did the United States detonate atomic bombs over?”

“Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Two cities in Japan. The bombs were dropped on August 6th and August 9th. The US wanted to force the Japanese to surrender.”

“Okay, time out,” you started, carelessly tossing the flashcards to the side. “Please tell me again how you're not smart? Because those were perfect answers and you haven't even read through the textbook yet.”

Daryl shrugged again, averting his eyes to the bed. “Ain't smart. Jus' heard the teacher talkin' 'bout it in class. Ain't tha' hard to remember it. 'Sides, history is interestin'. S'the only class I dun' mind attendin'.”

You laughed in disbelief, looking at your boyfriend in wonder. “You manage to find a way to surprise me every day. I thought I knew everything about you, and now I learn something new. You're a history nerd.”

Daryl scoffed incredulously. “Ain't no damn nerd. Jus' 'cause I know some history doesn't mean m'a nerd.”

“Sure,” you started, sending him a playful smile. “So I know a lot about science and I get called a nerd by you, but you know a lot about history and I can't call you a nerd?”

“Damn straight,” Daryl replied, his tone playful. “Yer a nerd. Tha's one of the many reasons why I fell fer ya.”

“I love you, too, Mr I-know-that-Hitler-was-born-on-the-30th-of-April.”

“He was born on the 20th. He shot himself on the 30th, ten days after his birthday.” You smirked, and Daryl instantly knew that he had fallen into your trap. “Oh, fuck ya fer tha'.”

“My point has been proven,” you said with a victorious smile, leaning forward to let your lips hover over Daryl's. “No need to be ashamed of being a nerd. I find it extremely hot.”

Daryl hummed, his lips grazing against yours. “Ya find it hot tha' I know 'bout the world war? Then yer gon' find it really hot when we get to the Cold War.”

“Colour me intrigued,” you whispered, before closing the gap between the two of you.

Daryl's lips moved against yours hungrily. Soon, he gently guided you to lay on your back, hovering over you as his lips trailed down your jaw to your neck. You giggled, leaning your head back to allow him more access.

“You might be really smart in history, Dar, but I'm not. I need to study,” you told him.

Daryl hummed, but his kisses didn't cease. “Ya'll be fine,” he mumbled against your skin. “'Sides, we got a human anatomy exam comin' up soon. I suck at tha'. I need to get some studyin' done fer tha'.”

You laughed lightly, yielding to the desire. Well, studying would just have to wait. You had other, much more fun activities planned for the time being.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[youdigokay]

Curtis brother headcanons that I believe are canon

Darry will randomly check in Ponyboy and Sodapop’s room when they’re sleeping just to make sure they’re okay.

Soda has undiagnosed dyslexia. Given the time period, it went undiagnosed and his teachers just thought he was bad at school. If given the proper support, he would’ve done a lot better with his grades.

Darry does like to read, but doesn’t have the time for it anymore. He’ll flip through one of Pony’s books when he has the chance, but never has the time to finish it.

Soda taught Pony to drive in Darry’s truck and he turned out to be a terrible driver. He can’t get a hang of the stick shift and Soda’s genuinely nervous driving with him.

Darry built Pony a bookshelf with scraps from his job site for his fifteenth birthday.

Soda tried reading one of Pony’s books when he and Johnny were gone, but couldn’t get through more than a few pages.

Pony slept with a special blanket his Mom knitted for him until he was twelve. The gang found out about it and teased him for it and he stopped. He still has it and will occasionally lay with it when no one’s home.

The brothers hate when it rains, because Darry can’t work in the rain, and he’ll usually come from work upset over missing a day of pay.

Soda first tried eggs with grape jelly on a dare from Pony when they were little, and it turned out he really liked it.

Darry used to be jealous of not having a unique name like his brothers, but grew to love his name after his parents passed. He’s happy to carry on his father’s name, and plans to pass it to his son when he has kids of his own.