#up and let him in and he knows he's gotta make it up to her....... SO thematic for SO much of it..........

[fic-girlie]

hello! can i request !joel x reader having sex trying not to make noises cuz they heard something but joel goes faster and puts his hand on your mouth and fucks her even harder ?? thank u xxxxx

Silent fire

Pairing: pre-jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader Summary: In an abandoned building, you and Joel share a desperate, silent moment of passion—danger close, love closer. Warnings: established relationship, explicit sexual content (+18), dirty talk, softdom!Joel, semi-public sex (abandoned diner), unprotected sex, p in v sex, creampie

The building is silent except for the wind groaning through the cracks in its frame, the long-forgotten bones of some convenience store or diner sagging under the weight of disrepair. You’d scouted it earlier with Joel, quiet and methodical, weapons drawn, his hand sweeping low behind your back like he could shield you from anything with just the curve of his palm. Nothing moved but dust. No infected, no people, just overturned tables and splintered tile and the leftover ghosts of the world that used to be.

You shouldn’t be doing this. You both know it.

There’s a tension in the air — not between you, never between you, not anymore — but outside. In the streets. In the faint noise you both heard earlier. Something distant, something maybe-human, maybe-not. A click or a cough or a bootstep. It had Joel freezing beside the window, jaw tight, body coiled like he could spring at any moment. And now you're tucked away in the dark behind the broken counter of the store, down on the dusty floor, half-surrounded by fallen shelving and dry paper cups, nothing but adrenaline and the thick, raw ache of need pulsing between your legs.

Joel’s mouth had been on yours a minute ago — desperate, fast, tasting like sweat and silence — before he turned you around, pushed you down, tugged your pants off with a quiet urgency that felt like it might kill you. Like he couldn’t stop even if he tried.

“Don’t make a sound,” he murmurs now, his voice low and wrecked behind you, thick with heat and warning. His body is already lined up with yours, one strong hand gripping your hip, the other braced on your lower back, grounding you. “You hear me, baby?”

You nod — more like a shiver than a movement — your cheek pressed to the cold, dusty floor, arms bent beneath you for leverage. You can feel the weight of him behind you, the press of his cock between your thighs, already leaking and hard, sliding between your slick folds.

And he’s not even inside you yet.

It’s always like this when the world feels close to ending. When it’s not safe, when it’s wrong. That’s when Joel wants you most — or maybe it’s just when he lets go of the leash he keeps wrapped around his throat every other hour of the day. He never says it. He doesn't need to. It’s in the way he touches you, the way he ruts into you like he’s starving, like you’re the only thing left in this godforsaken world that still feels good, still feels real.

He slides into you in one long, careful thrust — or as careful as he can be when your pussy clenches around him like that, so tight and warm and wet it knocks a groan loose from his throat that he catches too late.

You glance back at him, your face hot and mouth already parted to moan, but his hand is there before you can make a sound — big and rough and callused as it clamps over your mouth from behind. He leans down close over your back, chest against your spine, breath hot against your ear.

“Told you, baby. Gotta be quiet,” he growls, and this time it isn’t just a warning. It’s a command.

He pulls almost all the way out and then slams back in, his hips snapping against your ass with a force that jolts through your entire body. You scream — or you would, if his hand wasn’t pressed so tight over your mouth. The sound dies against his palm, muffled and wet, your eyes rolling back as your knees dig into the dusty floor for leverage.

He starts to move faster then, like he can’t stop himself, like whatever they heard outside doesn’t matter anymore — or maybe it does, maybe that’s why he’s fucking you like this. Because if something’s coming, he wants this first. Wants to feel you wrapped around him, clutching at him, writhing beneath him while he breaks you apart.

Your hands scrabble at the cracked linoleum for purchase as Joel pounds into you, the sound of skin against skin swallowed mostly by the walls but loud enough to send your blood surging in fear. The thought of being found, caught like this — it’s terrifying. It’s also hot. Too hot. Blindingly so.

You clench around him again, tighter, your body trembling with the effort to stay quiet, and Joel groans deep against your shoulder. He bites it — just a flash of teeth through fabric, a half-snarl of pleasure — then straightens up, hand still clamped over your mouth, the other dragging you back into every thrust with bruising force.

He’s so deep. Too deep. You’re soaked, dripping down your thighs, and he’s bottoming out every time now, fucking you harder than he should, faster than he promised, losing himself in the slick heat of you like there’s nothing else that matters. Nothing but your cunt squeezing him, milking him, begging for more.

You want to speak. You want to tell him you’re close, that you can’t take much more, that it’s too much — but all that comes out is a muffled whimper, your breath wet against the seal of his palm, his fingers digging into your cheek.

“Shh,” he breathes again, gritting it out as his hips stutter. “I know, baby. I know. Just take it. You’re doin’ so good for me.”

You don’t know if he means taking his cock or taking the silence, but either way, you feel like you’re going to shatter. The pressure is unbearable — a tidal wave just behind your ribs, right at your spine, winding and winding and tightening with every ruthless thrust of his hips.

And then, from somewhere outside, there’s a noise.

A real one.

A bootstep on gravel. Close.

Joel freezes — just for a second. His hand tightens over your mouth. You’re both perfectly still, the only sound your ragged breathing, the wet throb between your legs, the quiet, obscene drip of where your bodies are still joined.

Then — nothing. The step fades. A pause.

And Joel, who should stop, who should pull out, who should be focused on survival — does the opposite.

He fucks you harder.

Rough, brutal thrusts now, his hand never moving from your mouth as he pistons into you, using your body like it belongs to him — which, here and now, it does. His jaw is clenched. His eyes are wild. You can’t see them, but you feel it in the way he grips you, the way he pushes even deeper, chasing his release with a feral, reckless drive that almost makes you come just from the sheer force of it.

You’re shaking. Your arms barely hold you up. You’re grinding back on him now, desperate and unthinking, your body so close to the edge it’s terrifying.

And he knows it.

Joel leans back down, his chest slick with sweat as he buries his face in the crook of your neck and growls low against your ear.

“Come for me. Now. Be fuckin’ quiet and come for me, baby.”

Your body obeys him before your mind even catches up.

It crashes through you like a gunshot — fast, hard, splitting you apart as you clamp down around him, your legs buckling beneath you. Your vision goes white. Your scream is caught by his hand again, swallowed whole as you convulse under him, trembling violently while your orgasm pulses out in thick, molten waves that won’t stop. Your nails dig into the linoleum. Your face is wet with tears or sweat or both, and your whole body is shaking, locked down around the thick, throbbing weight of him inside you.

Joel curses under his breath — low and gravel-rough — and he doesn’t stop moving. Not through your orgasm. Not when your pussy spasms around him so hard it pulls another whimper from your chest. He fucks you through it, pace sloppy now, desperate, chasing his own edge with a kind of wild, breathless restraint.

“Fuck, baby,” he hisses, voice barely human. “Gonna come — shit — can’t stop—”

You try to nod, to tell him yes, to let go, but you’re so dazed and overstimulated you don’t even know if you move. He fucks you deeper, faster — his hand still silencing you, his chest rising in ragged heaves — until finally his hips slam forward one last time and he groans deep against your back, coming inside you with a violent tremor.

You feel it all.

The hot, wet pulse of him spilling deep inside you. The shudder in his arms. The way his grip on your mouth softens as he breathes through it, forehead dropped to your spine, trying not to collapse over you completely.

You both stay there for a moment — still joined, still panting, still trembling in the thick, oppressive quiet of the building.

The danger outside hasn’t gone. You know that.

But for now, in this space between breath and aftermath, you feel more alive than you have in weeks.

Joel eventually lifts his hand from your mouth, slow and careful, then shifts his weight back just enough to ease himself out of you. You wince at the slick slide — at the heat of him dripping down your thighs — but you don’t say a word. Your voice wouldn’t work anyway.

He tucks himself back into his jeans quickly, grim-faced now, the soldier in him returning to the surface as fast as the tension had snapped. He scans the room like he’s expecting a threat to jump out of the drywall, then turns back to you with something softer in his eyes.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, reaching down to help you up.

Your legs are weak, thighs soaked and shaking, and when you stand, your knees buckle enough that Joel catches you against him, one arm curling around your waist, the other tucking your pants back into place. He presses a kiss to the side of your head — nothing fancy, nothing lingering. Just contact. Just proof that he’s still here, and you’re still his.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes into your hair. “Didn’t mean to lose control like that. I just—”

You shake your head, fingers tightening on his shirt, your voice rough when it finally comes.

“Don’t apologize.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hand cupping your jaw, thumb brushing away the streak of something wet at the corner of your mouth. His expression is unreadable — worry, guilt, hunger still not quite sated — and something else that makes your chest tighten.

Love, maybe.

He doesn’t say it. He never does. But it’s there, written in the way his fingers tremble against your skin, in the way his body shields yours even now.

Outside, the world waits.

The sound doesn’t come again — not the bootstep, not the breath of danger — but you both know better than to trust silence.

Joel leans in and presses one last kiss to your temple, then reaches down to grab your pack from the floor. He slides your weapon into your hands with a look that says stay close, keep quiet, I’ve got you, then moves toward the back exit like nothing ever happened.

But your legs still ache. Your lips are swollen from his hand. And between your thighs, the echo of him still lingers — thick, warm, and dripping — as you follow him into the darkness.

[afroslacks]

Hello! Can I request a one-shot or drabble—whatever you prefer? Could it be about the Sinners premiere, where the reader is seen with Michael and fans start to ship them?

Today is one of the many premiere dates for your new movie Sinners. As you arrive at the premiere, your stomach ties itself in knots as the sound of fans gets louder.

“Are you ready?” your manager asks, looking at you as you smooth your hands over your dress to soothe your uneasy stomach.

“No, not really,” you reply, looking at your manager, who laughs before patting your back.

“Well, you have no choice, so get out there.”

Your mouth drops open at your manager’s callous attitude toward your nerves. He then pushes his hands out in a shop manager gesture.

“Rude,” you snort, before grabbing the limousine's door handle and pushing the door open.

The sound of screaming fans and media personnel becomes louder, causing you to pause in your attempt to exit the vehicle. You hate this part. Feeling overwhelmed, you exit the vehicle anyway. The driver holds out his hand so you can rise from the seat more easily without risking exposure and creating a viral moment.

“Thank you,” you utter quietly as you look around, taking everything in.

Your fellow castmates are talking to reporters and taking pictures in front of a Sinners backdrop.

“Don’t forget to smile,” your manager says from behind you, causing you to turn around and see them holding a thumbs-up. You shake your head before making your way onto the carpet. As you get closer to the cameras, you still consider turning around. But you continue anyway. Photographers call your name as you step into the spotlight.

“Look over here! You look gorgeous!” they shout. You wave and nod to let them know you acknowledge them. Then you begin to pose and stand still, letting them get their fill.

Unaware that Michael is watching you in that navy blue suit and his infamous grills. He stands there, frozen in time, rendered defenseless by your beauty. He has a longstanding crush on you. At his age, he can’t help it. Your characters play love interests in the movie, but he's always wanted something more.

You told him he’d have to wait until Sinners wrapped before either of you considered pursuing anything—keeping it professional and simple.

As he watches you, he notices you’re clearly uncomfortable. You’re usually good at hiding your anxiety, but over time he’s learned your signs. As you shift and pose, he sees you subtly rubbing your dress and placing your hands together.

“I think she’s a bit overwhelmed,” Wunmi says, watching you stand for the cameras.

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna jump in,” Michael replies without looking away from you.

“You should. Be really sweet to her, Michael,” Wunmi replies, watching him.

Michael steps onto the carpet and stands next to you. He leans into your ear.

“It’s alright. I’m here,” he promises, wrapping his arm subtly around your waist.

The paparazzi shout, “You both look amazing! Lovely couple!”

Michael laughs as your arm wraps around his back to tug on his suit jacket. You lean into his ear.

“Thank you. The cameras are too much for me right now,” you whisper, relieved that he noticed your struggle.

Michael looks at you and replies softly, under the chaos of the paparazzi:

“It’s no problem. I could tell. You were doing that thing—rubbing your dress and clasping your hands for comfort. So I stepped in to be your comfort.”

You hold eye contact, touched by his thoughtful behavior, wishing you could kiss him right now. But you value your privacy, and you both haven’t even had your first date. So you just stare—for now.

The paparazzi continue to snap photos in the background, but you don’t pay them any attention. You’re lost in his eyes.

A Week Later

You and Michael are enjoying dinner at a restaurant he rented out for the night so you could have privacy. You're sitting across from one another, enjoying the first course, when Michael suddenly says:

“Oh, I gotta show you something,” he says, pulling out his phone.

You finish chewing your food and wipe your mouth, waiting for him. Moments later, he pulls up a video of both of you on the premiere carpet.

“They’re shipping us now,” he explains, handing you his phone.

You roll your eyes at the internet’s quickness. “That’s because you make everything so obvious, Michael.”

Michael scoffs mockingly, placing a hand on his chest. “Me? You were the one who kept looking into my eyes. You refused to give me my face back.”

You wave him off with a flick of your hand. “Boy, finish your food.”

Michael laughs, takes his phone back, and you both enjoy the rest of your date.

[popcornpoppypop]

Promises, Promises Part 2

Summary: Tensions are high as baby Abbot makes their appearance.

Warnings: Blood, Childbirth, Birth Trauma, talk of death, brief mention of a dog bite (literally one sentence), Medical inaccuracies

A/N: The baby will be fine! I hate when it's not clear before reading so, not really a spoiler but baby Abbot is okay. Okay, so this was supposed to be two parts but every time I slimmed it down I hated it, so it will be three. I'm a yapper, I can't help it.

“Princess call the blood bank I want three units of type matched blood with three units of O neg on stand by. Dana get me the birth kit, all of the gauze we have and grab Mel. I’m going to need another set of hands. Bring the warmer in here too!” Robby ordered.

“Breathe, we’re going to keep you safe, I love you.” Jack said, willing the tears from his eyes.

“Let’s get you back in bed.” Robby said as he helped Jack get Callie comfortable in bed.

“I got gauze and forceps.” Dr. King came running in with a rolling tray and an armful of supplies. Dana barreled in behind her with her supplies and a baby warmer.

“You’re about to be very popular, Callie.” Dr. King smiled.

“Hooray.” Callie groaned.

“Dr. King hook up the blood and fluids, please.” Robby tossed the bags to her.

“Oh shit!” Callie groaned. “I gotta push!” She moaned. The room fell silent for a moment.

“Let’s move people!” Robby barked as Dana helped him gown up. He snapped on his gloves as he rolled to the end of the bed.

“I’m right here, baby, I’m with you.” Jack told her, grabbing her hand.

“Jack, I love you.” She smiled, tears rolling down her cheek.

“Callie, I want you only pushing with the contractions okay? I need you stay strong and not get too tired.” Robby instructed her.  Callie nodded.

“You remember the classes, the books? Chin to your chest.” Jack said. Callie nodded before groaning as a contraction took over. She tucked her chin to her chest and started pushing.

“Good, Callie!” Robby said.

“Okay, breathe Honey.” Jack said, one of his hands supporting her neck and the other holding her hand.

“You’re doing great Sweetheart.” Dana dabbed a bit of gauze across her forehead as she grabbed one of her legs to support her. This went on for a good hour. The nurses and Dr. King running in and out of the room. The red on the floor grew and so did the pounding in Jack’s chest.

“I can’t do it! I can’t!” Callie sobbed, falling back onto the bed.  Jack held her face in his hands.

“Yes you can, baby you have to. You are so strong, there isn’t a stronger woman on this planet. I know it’s hard and scary right now, but you have to do this part. I can’t do it for you, I wish I could. The baby needs you to.” He said, his voice shaking.

“Callie, the head is almost out, you are so close.” Robby said.

“Come on, Sweetheart.” Dana said, her voice unsteady. Callie nodded and took a deep breath and began pushing again.

“Blood pressure is falling, Dr. Robby.” Dr. King noted.

“push another unit of saline and hang the O neg.” Robby instructed.

“You’re doing great, darling.” Jack kissed her temple.

“Callie the head is out! Take break!” Robby said.

“Did you hear that, Sweetheart? You’re almost done.” Dana rubbed her shoulder. Callie laid on the bed, her body wracked with sobs.

“when you’re ready, give me another big push.” Robby said.

“You’re amazing, you’re fucking superhero.” Jack smiled down at her, his face tear-stained. Callie started pushing again.

“Get the warmer set up Dr. King.” Robby said. “Next push and baby will be here, Callie.”

“You’re at the finish line, Honey.” Dana smiled. Callie took a breath and gave every last ounce of energy to pushing.

“You’re doing great, I love you so fucking much.” Jack cheered as he helped support her leg and neck.

“Baby’s out! Breathe Callie! You’re done.” Robby smiled as he handed the baby to Dr. King.

“They aren’t crying.” Callie moaned.

“That happens sometimes.” Jack told her, though his nerves were only getting worse.

“Get me more gauze!” Robby barked from the end of the bed.

“Dana, the baby isn’t crying.” Callie sobbed.

“I know, it’s okay.” She patted her shoulder as she went over to help Dr. King.

“Jack!”

“I know, it’s okay. They’ve got them.” He held her as close to him as possible.

“I need the Bakri now!” Robby barked.

“Robby, what’s going on?” Jack asked through gritted teeth.

“Jack, not now.” He snapped. A cry filled the room and Callie fell back against the bed sobbing.

“She’s okay, she’s was just being a little stubborn.” Dr. King smiled.

“It’s a girl?” Callie asked as Dr. King put her on her chest.

“Yes, a very healthy little girl.” Dr. King nodded.

“Jack…” Callie looked up from the baby to see Jack crying.

“She looks like you.” He smiled, kissing her cheek. For a moment they lived in that perfect moment. Nothing was wrong, they had a beautiful new daughter.

“My head hurts.” Callie mumbled.

“Mel take the baby.” Robby instructed. “Take her and find McKay to do a full exam in another room.” Dr. King grabbed the baby from Callie just as she went limp.

“No! No, Callie! Don’t do this! Robby!!” Jack yelled.

“Get him out of here! Now!” Robby yelled. Dana tried to pull him away from Callie’s cold body.

“Mateo! Donnie!” She yelled. They came running in and grabbed Jack, dragging him to the break room.

“I need to be in there! I need to be with her!” He yelled.

“Dr. Abbot you need to be with your daughter. Robby has Callie. He needs room to work.” Donnie told him.

“Fuck!” He yelled throwing a mug into the wall.

“Mateo, find out where Mel brought the baby.” Donnie instructed.

“I can’t do this again.” Jack sobbed.

“Robby’s got her. Dana’s with her.” Donnie said putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Their in bay 7.” Mateo said.

“Let’s go see her, yeah?” Donnie helped Jack to his feet. They guided him to the bay. Dr. King and McKay were inside looking after the baby.

“Dr. Abbot, she’s doing great.” McKay said. Jack didn’t acknowledge either of them. He peered down at the baby, bright and healthy and utterly perfect.

“You can hold her, Jack.” McKay said.

“I don’t trust my arms to not give out.” He grumbled. He ran a finger along her little cheek.

“She looks like Callie.” Dr. King said, her voice gave away that she’d been crying.

“We met in this bay.” Jack stated, his tone flat.

“Really?” Mel asked.

“She’d come in for a dog bite to the hand. She was so damn pretty and had the worst jokes. I was done for the second she smiled at me.” Jack said the tears falling.

“Jack?” Robby’s voice broke him from the memory.

“Is she okay?” He couldn’t turn around.

“Jack, she lost a lot of blood.”

“Don’t fucking say it.” Jack’s voice tight. He turned to see Robby’s face sullen.

“Jack she’s in a coma. We stopped the bleeding, but she stopped breathing and her heart stopped. We got her back.”

“How long was she down?”

“Three minutes and thirty seconds.”

“You said you wouldn’t let this happen.” Jack gritted his teeth.

“I know.”

“I said to save her, above everything save her.”

“I know.”

“I’m not good enough to do this on my own.” Jack sobbed, looking at his daughter.

“Jack, we’re not letting you do this alone.” Dr. King stepped forward, putting her hands on his shoulders. “We’re going to help you, this baby and you are family, we aren’t letting you do this alone.”

“Robby, she’s seizing! " a voice called, and Robby ran off. Jack fell to his knees. He didn’t know how long he had been crying or how long he had been on the ground, but a hand on his shoulder broke him from his sobs.

“Dr. Abbot, she needs to eat. I don’t know what you two had planned, but we had someone from NICU bring down milk.” Perlah said, bottle in hand. “You should do it. She needs to see you.” She sighed. Jack nodded. She was right. They hadn’t even done the skin-to-skin like Callie wanted.

“Can I have the room?” He cleared his throat. Everyone filtered out. He took his scrub top off and his undershirt. He lifted the baby up and held her close, offering the bottle which she gladly took.

“You look like your mom already.” Jack smiled. “She would have been pissed if you looked too much like me.” He gave a half-hearted chuckle. He watched as the baby drank the whole bottle.

“Jack…oh. Sorry.” McKay was about to leave.

“What is it?”

“Robby wanted me to let you know that the seizing stopped and she’s stable for now.” McKay said.

“Why isn’t he telling me?” Jack grumbled.

“He thought you might want some space from him. He’s still with her.” McKay nodded and left.

“Your mother is a tough woman. I know she’s going to fight stay with us.” He said to the baby who yawned and stretched. He laid the baby down in the warmer again, threw his shirts back on and opened the door.

“Perlah, who can be spared?” Jack asked.

“Mateo, why? What do you need?”

“Someone to stay with her.” Jack gestured to the warmer.

“Yeah, of course we got her.” Perlah nodded as she dragged a mobile computer cart into the room.

Jack walked back over to room 3, everyone looked at him with sympathy and glassy eyes. He stood just by the door, scared to go in. Dr. King came rushing out and nearly knocked him over.

“Dr. Abbot! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you. Did you want to go in?” She asked.

“I…is she cleaned up?”

“What?”

“Is she still covered in her own blood.” Jack’s voice cracked.

“Oh. Dana’s been cleaning her up as we go. There may be some visible, but not like earlier.” She gave a tight smile and walked off. Jack stood in the doorway.

Robby was still doing external uterine massage, jamming his hands into Callie’s abdomen. His eyes tracking up and down her body, up and down, noting anything and everything. Dana was at the foot of the bed with a cloth washing her legs. There was a tube in her throat and the sound of the ventilator and monitor are loud and grating.

“She’s stable?” Jack croaked, making Robby and Dana’s heads snap up.

“Yeah. She’s stable. Bleeding is controlled.” Robby cleared his throat.

“She’s hanging in there. She’s a tough lady, Jack.” Dana said, walking over and putting her hands on his shoulders.

“How’s the baby?” Robby asked.

“Good. Fed her. Did that, uh, skin to skin contact. Was supposed to be her…” Jack’s voice broke and he looked away. Dana pulled him into a hug. He let himself break a little more.

“You told her she had to be strong earlier, now it’s your turn.” Dana told him.

“We’ll fight tooth and nail for her, Jack.” Robby said. Jack looked up and realized his eyes were red too.

“Can I sit with her?”

“Yeah, course. We’ll be outside.” Robby said as he and Dana left.

Jack sat on the stool next to the bed. He grabbed her hand, still too cold for his liking.

“I’m going to be selfish and beg you to stay. I can’t do this without you, baby, please. You’re my whole world and that baby deserves a life with you. I’m only good with you around.” Jack shook his head.

“You’d be so disappointed in me. I should be with our daughter. But I can’t bear the thought of leaving your side.”  Jack wiped the tears from his eyes.

He lost track of time watching Callie’s chest rise and fall. It could have been days for all he knew.

“Jack, you need to eat.” Dana came in holding a tray of food.

“I’m not hungry.”

“I know, but you still need to eat.” She said, putting the tray in his lap.

“What time is it?” He groaned as he bit into the sandwich.

“9pm. You’ve been in here for three hours.” Dana put her hand on his shoulder.

“Three hours she’s still breathing.”

“Yeah. Did you two every settle on a name? Everyone keeps calling her baby Abbot. I’m sure she’d rather anything else.” Dana attempted a joke.

“Um…yeah. For a girl, Pippa.”

“Pippa. That’s really nice.” Dana smiled and wiped the tears from her face.

“She said it reminded her of spring and she thought everyone’s favorite season had to be spring so it meant the baby would be everyone’s favorite.” Jack snorted.

“She already is.” Dana sighed.

“You should be home.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Neither is Robby. You’re stuck with us until she’s awake. That’s what family does, Jack.”

“She’ll wake up.” Jack nodded.

“Yeah, she will. You want to spend some time with that beautiful baby? I can sit with her.” Dana offered. Jack nodded and stood. He made his way to bay 7, he opened the curtain and found Mel and Robby sitting with the baby.

“Dr. Abbot, we just finished up her second exam. Flying colors and all that. She’s a perfect baby.” Mel smiled.

“She’s incredible Jack.” Robby smiled.

“You two should go home and get some rest.” He said.

“Oh I’m really okay. Besides, my sisters at summer camp and the house is too quite. I’d rather be here to help you.” Mel smiled.

“You know I’m not going anywhere until Callie’s okay.” Robby said.

“I was about to get the next bottle ready for baby Abbot, do you want some privacy?” Mel asked.

“No, it’s fine. And her name is Pippa.” Jack smiled.

“Pippa? That’s so nice. Like a flower.” Mel smiled.

“Like spring. That’s what Callie said when she picked it.” Jack rubbed the tears from his eyes.

“She has good taste, that woman.” Robby nodded.

Jack scooped the baby up and took the bottle from Mel. He fed the baby, bouncing in place as she cooed.

“You’re a natural, Jack. You look like you were meant for this.” Robby said, his voice cracking.

“I owe you an apology.” Jack sighed.

“No, you don’t.” Robby shook his head.

“I do. I snapped, I blamed you. None of it was your fault. Hell, she’s still here because you had the balls to do something.”

“If I had rushed her labs and listened to you and Dana she would have gotten surgery.”

“No, the labs were fine. This was just bad luck on top of bad luck.” Jack said. “She said she didn’t want to go anywhere else because she knew you all would take care of us. She was right. I don’t know if anyone would have fought as hard for her.”

“We’ll always fight you three.” Robby nodded, a sad smile flickered across his face.  Jack’s chest tightened, they were three now. He would do everything to keep it three.

“She really does look like Callie.” Robby smiled at the baby as she yawned, her bottle finished, her tiny limbs attempting to stretch for the first time.

“Thankfully.” Jack snorted.

“Except those ginger curls and that stern look, that’s all you.” Robby chuckled.

“Well, my  best features then.” Jack ran his fingertips through the small, soft curls of his daughter’s head.

“What’s it feel like?” Mel asked from the corner.

“What? You’ve held a baby, Dr. King.” Jack looked at her confused.

“N-no. She’s here, she wasn’t and then she was. She’s yours. What’s that feel like?” Mel had the same look on her face as she did when learning a new procedure that looked painful.

“Oh.” Jack stilled for a moment. The words swirled around his head, none felt right. “Like the world finally makes sense and somehow, it’s more confusing than ever. Like…everything before now was worth it.”

“That’s nice.” Mel smiled. “Sometimes I get worried that people don’t appreciate the transformation of being a parent.” She nodded.  “I’ll be back in a while.” She said as she left.

“You three broke my best resident.” Robby sighed.

“Naw, she’s alright. She just feels it all.” Jack nodded.

[cuntyhunty22]

Guilty as sin : chapter 1

Summery : you move home after being gone for years.. you are trying to adjust to life back home after dealing with heartbreak. You didn't know to heal a heart it would take two people who happen to be brothers.

Word count: tbh I'm unsure.. but ITS A LONG ONE. (I should have broke it up part 2 is already almost finished)

This will be multiple parts let me know if you want tagged.

Pairing : Joel!dbf x reader : Tommy x reader

Tags : age gap , SMUT , language, love triangle, cream-pie (be smart about that) , oral:f:receiving, oral:m:receiving , fingering, squirt, daddy use (once) Dom Joel , slight sub Joel . (I am sure I'm missing things but you get it. )

Reader is a mess.. but we love her 🫶🏼

Music recs : guilty as sin : Taylor swift

Francesca : hozier

Love you tonight : Ella Langley

Somebody else : the 1975

Delicate : Taylor swift

Love song : Lana del Rey

For the past three years you have been studying abroad. England, Spain, Norway. Pretty much anywhere you could go to travel and learn you did. Now you are home for the summer...

The sun beams into your childhood bedroom followed by the sound of a lawn mower. You groan into your pillow, still very much jet lagged. You have been trying to get yourself back on to this time schedule. You lay there for a moment before finally giving in and getting up. You throw on a pair of little boxer shorts and a tiny cami then you head downstairs. You pop your headphones in as that's apart of your morning routine. It's always a good day when you start with music. You start a pot of coffee dancing around the kitchen, then you open the refrigerator rummaging through looking for coffee creamer. Your dad prefers his coffee black but he always has some stashed for you. Your favorite, French vanilla. You're practically bent over in the fridge searching when you finally find it. You back up quickly running your back into what felt like a brick wall. Strong Hands touch your waist just to push you forward. You spin around to see your dad's best friend standing there... Joel miller.

"Mornin kiddo how are ya."

You still have your headphones in as you stare at him bewildered. embarrassed.. kind off.

"Huh sorry.. was listening to music."

You crack a smile. He stands in front of you, a few feet taller. That teeshirt hugging him just right. Tan skin, dark brown eyes....

You snap out of it realizing you were staring.

"You kids and your technology. I asked how are ya..?"Joel scoffs annoyed that you weren't paying attention. He's always been kind of a grumpy man.

"Jet lagged, I made coffee if you want some." You gesture to the coffee pot In the corner like he hasn't been in Your house a billion times. You dont know what's gotten into you but he's making you nervous. He looks different... a good different.

Your dad enters the kitchen sitting down at the kitchen table.

"Morning honey, I see Joel came in and said hello. Told him earlier you were home... Oh you made coffee! Wonderful."Your dad smiles ear to ear.

He has really missed you. As of now his house is completely empty. You have been abroad and your baby sister has moved to teach less fortunate children.

"He did, and yeah couldn't relax between the bright sun and the loud ass lawn mower..." you let out a yawn.

You peek over to see Joel looking at you.. your legs mainly. Afraid you caught him, his head snaps in the opposite direction.

"Ah yeah sorry honey should have thought about that. Supposed to get super hot today so Joel and I here, were trying to get some yard work finished before it's unbearable out."Your dad sipping on his coffee, scrolling through his phone.. on espn probably.

"I have to go to aunt dollys wedding rehearsal later anyway.. and the pre wedding party is tonight. Thought about hitting the mall for some clothes."

Joel still standing leaning up against the counter.

"Joel you gotta go to that too dontcha? you're like Randy's best man.?"

You look at him waiting for him to respond to you.

"Yeah I'll be there."

His grip on the coffee cup tightens as you walk past him to sit down at the table.

"Joel could you drive her? I gotta go pick up her sister from the airport would be just easier." Your dad asks.

You look over at him, your eyes glisten in the sun. Joel has driven you places tons of times. Between movies with Sarah his daughter or high school football games when he'd scare the boys away.

Sarah and you are about 4 years apart.

"Yeah- yeah uh I can. S'not a problem." Joel shrugs.

"Lovely we can catch up. Dad I'm gonna try to nap, respond to a few emails, see you later.. love you."

You kiss your dad's head, leaving Joel with a smile before grabbing your cup of coffee and heading to your bedroom.

•

Once you are upstairs you lay there for a moment. Images of Joel flood your brain... the stubble on his face, his strong features, the slight grey patches in his beard and hair. You roll over groaning not knowing why this is why you are thinking about. You blame it on jet lag. You pop open your laptop, doing your daily scroll. There is something you have been avoiding but you gave in. You typed in your exs name..

He was one of the reasons you even moved abroad. You had met him here in college. You fell in love and he convinced you to move to England. Things were great they really were, but you both just became busy with life. Eventually you agreed to take time away.. that's been about 10 months now. You guess he's been dating someone but you haven't spoken to one another. Just some things you have heard. You have really just been focusing on yourself.

His profile popped up.. he's currently on vacation in Greece (a place he has always promised to take you )

You click through the posted pictures and there is one of your old roommate from London.. Then it hits you.. that's why you havent heard from her.. why she has ghosted you.

That's who he has been dating.

You scoff

"fuckin asshat." You mumble to yourself.

You slam the laptop shut. Pop your head phones in, and shut your eyes... you relax a bit.. dozing off..

"Oh Joel.. yess right there.."

Joel has your tiny boxer shorts pulled down, as you are bent over on the kitchen table nails digging into the wood as he fucks you.. he fucks you hard.. harder than your ex ever did..

"You look so pretty taking my cock darlin' "

"I'm gonna -"

You shoot up from your bed, shaking.

You look around realizing you fell asleep. Then you realized what you were dreaming about. Your core aching from some fucked up joke your unconscious mind was playing on you. You absolutely can not be horny for your dad's best friend.

But what if you were...

•

You try to shake off the feelings or whatever the hell was going on in your brain. Trying to run from that, your focus has now become on your ex. Honestly it fucking hurts. You didn't know if you even wanted your ex back but it was the point of being lied to. Being ghosted by someone you called a friend, and even more so your ex always swore to be your friend above everything else.

You decided to skip the mall and just wear something you already had. You knew you wanted something to show off your legs because as hard as you were trying to ignore whatever what was going on you couldn't.

You picked out a cream lace baby doll dress, paired with some cowboy boots. You curled your long hair, makeup pretty natural but glowy, paired with some Glossy lips.

It was about 4:30 now, the rehearsal is at 5:30. If you know Joel miller.. you know he's gonna be early.

•

4:45 his truck pulls up with a honk. You make your way outside, Joel hops out to open your door. This wasn't a new thing it was just how he was.. how he always has been.. but for some reason today it hit a bit different.

"Thanks Joel, you don't have too I can get it." You give him a smile.

"Absolutely not darlin, it's a man's thing to do.. what boys over there have no manners? " He lets out a cocky chuckle

You couldn't tell if he was being an asshole or actually just joking trying to start a conversation. You didn't respond because honestly it wasn't something you wanted to talk about. You stayed quiet for the first few minutes of the drive. Joel could tell something was wrong.

"You gonna talk darlin, or we just gonna sit In silence.. you act like I'm some stranger."

He looks over at you, his side profile being illuminated by the golden hour light. Those thoughts from earlier creep in. His eyes trail over you, from your eyes, down your body, like he's taking in every part of you.

"Yeah sorry. Um just tired is all..."

"You've always been a terrible liar you know that.." he looks over at you.

"I have not." You roll your eyes.

"You have, I knew you were lying when you took Sarah to those house parties and I had to come get you... when you snuck to Dallas to see some boy.. when I also had to rescue you because you said you were staying at my house and you didn't want your ol man finding out."

"Sounds like you are sayin you have a habit of saving me.." you scoff.

He just looks at you like he's trying to figure out if he's looking at the girl he's watched grow up, or the woman that she now is. Just like that you arrive to the venue. Joel comes around letting you out, he grabs your hand to help you hop out of his truck. Just the touch of his hand sends shockwaves to your body.

His big rough calloused hands, how tiny yours looked next to his. Joel and you walk side by side into the building. You are greeted with hugs and hellos from people you haven't seen in years. As you are doing your mingling you can't help but watch Joel. How easily his presence is known, how cool and collected he always has been, and there it is.. that look to you. For even just a second that cool and collected fades and you see something else.

You continue mingling waiting for dolly and Randy to get things started. Your Aunt dolly comes running over as soon as she laid eyes on you.

"Oh my darling girl, how are you.. how's London boy." She kisses your cheek.

"Hi auntie, um well-"

You notice Joel is in earshot now.

"Well dolly men across the pond are just as bad as men here." You crack a smile.

"Awww honey you just need a good ol Texas man..like your daddy, Randy or even Joel."

You choke, making yourself cough.

"Sorry tickle In my throat."

You look over at Joel, acting like he's not listening but you think you saw a slight smile.

She brings you in for another hug before going back over to her wedding planner. More people file in, your sister has arrived, Tommy Joel's brother.. and Sheila. Sheila is dollys best friend but she's also had the biggest crush on Joel for years.

•

"Okay everyone, let's get started.. I have each groomsman paired with a bridesmaid.."

Dolly names people off the list.. and you just had this feeling she'd pair Joel with Sheila. Maybe you with Tommy, you two have always been really cool, he's handsome. softer than Joel. Dolly surprisingly does the opposite.

"My darlin.. you are with mr Joel miller here.."

you both look at one another.

Sheila comes over, she's never been your biggest fan. "Honey how about you go with Tommy.. I know yall are close.. he's more your age.. more your speed. Joel clenches his jaw.

You look at her and a laugh slips from your lips.

"Jesus Sheila can't give it up can ya.. no I'm cool with being with Joel thanks though"

You give her a cocky smirk as you link your arm with Joel's.

She glares at you as she stomps away.

"Guess t'was your turn to save me." Joel smiles and you both laugh. You gently pull your arm away from him as you left it linger there for a moment maybe a moment too long.

"Glad to be of service, she sure hasn't changed..."

"Yeah.. but you have.."

Joel looks at you, you cock your head not really knowing what he meant by that.

The wedding music blasts through the building bringing him back to what actually was going on. Rehearsal went well, Joel is your partner for all the wedding duties, walking down the isle, and going into the reception together. For some reason you think maybe just maybe life is trying to tell you something...

•

rehearsal ends.

Everyone is getting ready to head to the local bar for the before wedding party. You were overstimulated by everything so you decided to walk outside and get some air. You walk over by Joel's truck to find Tommy with a flask in hand.

"Hey buddy.. you wanna share.?"

You smile as he brings you into a hug.

"Hey sweetheart.. how's things.. been a long time.."

You take a swig from the flask making you gag...

"Fucking hell Tommy what is that.. but um

Im fine I guess, im back home, dont really know what im doing with my life but ya know.."

You take another swig, handing it back to him.

"Does anyone know what they want to do with life? I went to the army but here I am been back here for a minute now. You got a boyfriend still?" Tommy takes a drink from the flask.

Your eyes get wide choking again , either on that question or the burn of whatever poison Tommy is drinking.

"No ... no I don't Tommy... please don't tell me you're hitting on me..."

Tommy gives you a smirk.. the same smirk Joel has but softer..

"No.. I wasn't trying to.. but I mean.."

He trails off with a laugh

(He definitely was )

"was just checking in on ya sweetheart. your ol man tells us about you, but that's something he wasn't sure about, he was actually kind of worried about you...have you told him?

"Tommy miller giving me an intervention who would have fucking thought ... no.. now pass me the flask." You give him a little punch on the arm.

You take another big swig when you notice Sheila and Joel walking out together.

"Fucking gross..." you gag.

"What the whiskey.. come on girl that's what you grew up on , what the England bloke made you soft..?"

"No that.." your eyes shift over to Joel and Tommy cackles.

"Yeah she won't ever let it go.. pass the flask it's gonna be a long night."

You stand there for a bit with Tommy until Joel comes over. You are already feeling a buzz but you needed it.

"Little brother, you taking care of our girl while I was gone." Joel comes over putting himself between you and Tommy. He looks you up and down the same way he has been doing all day.

"I'm spectacular Mr miller, let's go to the bar..."

Joel looks at the flask,, to you, then to Tommy.

"Jesus Tommy. Seriously."

"Hey don't yell at him. I'm an adult.. I can do what I want and what I wanted was to drink with Tommy so drive me to the bar Joel." You stumble a bit, Joel grabbing your arm helping you into the truck.

Tommy closes the door walking over to his truck. Joel pulls out, he's silent. You shift in your seat to look at him leaning forward on the middle console your face inches away from his.

"What are you doin.." Joel's voice gruff.

"Nothing... just thinking.." you keep staring at him.. you want to touch him so bad.. but you won't... Then suddenly you do..

You run your hand through his curls then down his jaw. His face falling into your touch. Joel lets out a little moan, followed by a cough trying to make it seem like nothing.

"I'm thinkin you shouldn't be drinkin with my brother..."

You laugh at him.

"Why not Joel? I'm not a child. And for fucks sake it was Tommy. What are you jealous?"

(Bingo that's it.)

You scoff annoyed at him. "Don't see me yelling at you for walking out with Sheila. Maybe we should switch then. At least Tommy cares to talk to me about how I am today.. and how I have been.. you just wanna "save me" lecture me. You wanna act like you haven't been looking at me all night, how you just melted under my touch.."

Joel grips the steering wheel.

"Fine we will switch then, and I did try earlier. You been actin weird with me. And don't even start that.. don't put that out there.."

•

Joel parks in the lot for the bar. You don't wait for him to open your door. You hop out and make a bee line for the bar door. You are met with the group consisting of your sister, your dad, Tommy, dolly, Randy, Sheila and some of the rest of the wedding party. Joel trails behind you.

"My beautiful daughter." Your dad hugs you. " Miller you taking care of her.?"

"F'course." Joel looks at you as you walk in to the building. You head straight for the bar, Tommy by your side.

"Tommy I'm getting drunk, you tell your grumpy ass brother to leave me the fuck alone."

"Can't do that sweetheart.. you know Joel."

"Fuck Joel."

Tommy chuckles

(You really wish you could)

•

For the first half of the night it's just conversation with the group. Reminiscing about everything, you tell stories from your time abroad, trying avoiding the topic of London boy. Which eventually comes out, you just state you are separated but are on good terms. No need for all the details. Eventually your dad and sister head out. So does dolly and Randy. So that left you, Tommy, Sheila and Joel.

By this time the bar is packed. People dancing, wall to wall. Tommy has bought your drinks all night, taking shot after shot after shot.

"So you gon tell me what happened? Separation or whatever.. I know you. You ain't ever this quiet."

Tommy touches your hand and you pull away..

"Sorry didn't mean" he looks at you with puppy dog eyes.

You smile.

It is nice to feel wanted, or hell even just paid attention to.

" it's okay.. um.. well here look.."

You show him London boys Facebook. You are now seeing that there is a new post. He and your old friend are now engaged. You explain everything else practically in tears..

"That's a lot darlin, you deserve better. forgive me for being forward I can't help but be curious, but are you interested in anyone else.?" His drawl even more silky with the whiskey he's consumed. You let out a laugh because if anything he's persistent.

"Honestly Tommy.. I'm not sure.. I mean kind of but it's I don't even know. Plus now finding the engagement out.. it's just.. it's a lot.."

You don't know really it's just stolen glances, curiosity and the forbidden line of it. Now adding the underlying emotions of your ex being engaged to someone that's not you.. after years of thinking it would be.

He hands you another shot.

"Think this is needed." His hand on your shoulder massaging it gently.

As you take the shot you notice Sheila hugging up on Joel in the corner. You don't know why this affected you the way it has but you decided to take matters into your own hand. Knowing what you were about to do and how it would play out.

"Tommy. Let's dance"

•

You slam the shot back with ease as Tommy grabs you by the hand leading you into the sea of people. the bass of the music fills your ears. The alcohol fills your veins and rage fills your soul. You wrap your arms around Tommy's neck as you both dance to the beat of the music, his hands carefully trailing down your body as you sway back and forth. You look up and Joel is watching. Eyes dark. jaw locked.

Tommy swings you around your back now against him. His arm wrapped around your waist as you grind on him to the music. You feel the cold of his belt buckle through the sheer lace of your dress his bulge in his jeans stiff on your ass. His hands run through your hair as he lays a gentle kiss on the top of your shoulder making you shiver. The song switches and you decided you needed to use the restroom. You told Tommy you'd meet him back at the bar.

•

You walk down the dark hall way hearing heavy steps echo behind you. You don't look back. You open the door to the single bathroom, as you go to shut the door it was stoped by a boot shoving himself into the bathroom with you.

His big hands to your face, lips crashing to yours in an instant. Hungry kisses that consume one another his tongue invaded your mouth mixing with yours, the taste of cigarettes, mint and whiskey. He shoves your body against the wall hard as His lips trail down your jaw. Trailing down your neck. His hands cupping your breasts through your dress.

"Joel-" you whine.

"Shut up." His breath heavy as His hands reach under your dress, a hard grip on your thigh making you whimper.

"Fuck that sweet little sound." He growls.

"Joel-" you say in a whisper.

"I said shut up, what are you doin. You say that shit in the truck. Messing with my head then you come in here dancin like a whore on Tommy."

You shove him off you. Tears in your eyes.

"How fucking dare you. Do you even know what's wrong with me!? Have you been listening at all tonight Joel.. what happened in England.. that my ex is ENGAGED to my roommate.. now you wanna talk about what was said in the fucking truck.. or the fact that I dreamt about you today. That your the only thing I have thought about since this morning.."

Joel steps back looking you up and down. His jaw clinches as he's trying to find the words to speak. You step forward closing the space between, your hands run through his hair like you did earlier, his hand goes to the back of your neck tilting you up to look at him. His eyes dark and focused as he leans into you . Your lips grazing, his heavy breath shaking.

"This is..." joel trails off, as he plays with a strand of your hair.. "this is playing a dangerous game."

"Shut up and fuck me Mr miller." It was ballsy of you to say but fuck it.

Joel's hands immediately back under your dress. He gently rubs his fingers over the thin material of your panties covering your heat.

"Baby.. these are soaked.." his body pressing against yours, lips right in your ear.

"Yeah-" you throw your head back arching more towards him.

He does this again, but he rubs circles on your clit through your panties soaking them even more. Joel then hooks your panties with his fingers moving them to the side.

He dips one finger into your wetness, letting out a groan as he does. He pulls his finger out sticking it in his mouth sucking off your arousal. You let out a breathy moan watching him do that turning you on even more

"Fuck, you taste good.. tell me something darlin.."

His voice dark and sultry.

"Yeah Joel."

He reaches back down, inserting one finger into your cunt, already tightening on him.

"Who's got you this fucking wet... me.. or my brother...?"

It was filthy.. so fucking filthy.. filthy and forbidden.

"You.." you stifle a scream as Joel thrusts another finger into you.

"Yeah.. you sure baby... seen you grind that ass on him.. his hands on your body..his lips on your shoulder.."

Joel thrusts his fingers faster into you, you're already so close to your climax.

"You.. it's always been you ..ah fuck yes.. I touched myself to the thought of you this morning.. "

Joel freezes.

"You dirty girl.. horny for your old man's best friend.. cumming to the thought of me.. while you toy with my brother.."

he pumps a few more times before pulling his fingers out leaving you empty.

You whimper at the ache that's still there.

Joel kisses down your neck.

"What the fuck Joel." You look at him annoyed.

"You don't get to cum unless I say.. or unless I make you.." he smirks turning walking out of the bathroom. You stand there for a second trying to comprehend what just happened.

•

You go back out into the bar Joel is now standing by Tommy, Sheila there as well.

"There ya are sweetheart thought you got lost or kidnapped." Tommy smiles at you. You look over at Joel, his eyes focused on you and what your response was going to be.

"Yeah sorry just needed a minute." You fidget, not knowing what to do or say now.. because Tommy is great.. he always has been. So sweet so kind. Still rugged. But Joel.. Joel was mysterious, rugged, dominant , something that was deeper than what's on the surface.

Sheila proceeds to move herself between you and Joel, practically shoving you. You had enough of her and her antics. To be honest you were just fucking mad period. Mad at your ex, mad at your old roommate, mad at Joel.. mad you didn't cum on Joel's fingers, mad Joel didn't let you cum..mad that oddly you kinda wanna take Tommy up on his offer.. mad that whatever you are feeling for Joel won't let you try with Tommy. And fucking mad at Sheila for not taking a hint and just being a cunt.

You put your beer on the edge of the bar and "accidentally" spill it on her. She shrieks, looking at you pissed.

"What the hell was that.! Joel look what she did to me!"

Joel and Tommy trying not to laugh.

"Oops sorry maybe you need to learn personal space and that wouldn't happen."

You shrug as She rolls her eyes.

"You really ain't special ya know, you're back here because he broke up with you.. and I see what you're doing here.. she looks back and forth between Tommy and Joel. You are just a whore, like your momma, makes sense why your daddy left her."

Your fists are balled up as you go to step forward when you are pushed back by Tommy and picked up taken out of the bar by Joel..

•

Joel puts you on your two feet outside in the parking lot.

You look at him, tears in your eyes..

"Please don't..." you plead.

He looks at you as Tommy comes out the door, both of them just staring.

"I'm gonna take her home.. she is my responsibility tonight, I'm gonna make sure she gets back." Joel looking at Tommy.

"Sounds good big brother.. see you tomorrow." Tommy and Joel hug.

"Hey.. text me later okay.. if you want to talk anything.." Tommy touches your face wiping away a tear before he brings you into a tight hug. His hands didn't linger, didn't go anywhere they shouldn't have, he just hugged you.

"Okay.. bye Tommy thank you."

"Not a problem sweetheart. Get home safe"

Joel and you walk to his truck.. nothing was said but you could feel his emotions. He opens your door this time you don't argue, you take his hand as he helps you in. He starts the truck and just sits there for a moment.

"She's wrong ya know.. and m'sorry for what I said earlier.. that probably didn't help." Joel shifts his seat turning to look at you. You're fumbling with your fingers something you have always done when you're anxious. You jump when he grabs your hand, holding it tight, his calloused thumb rubbing little circles as He brings it up to his lips laying a soft kiss on it.

"Look at me." Joel's voice low but stern.

"Am I allowed to cry?" You look up at him face covered in your tears.

No hesitation he kisses you, really kisses you. Not the lust filled ones earlier, this one has some feeling behind it. You pull away.

"We can't.. it's too much.. I have too much-"

Ignoring you he kisses you again,

Messy top lip kiss. Pulling you over into the drivers seat putting you right on his lap. Your legs stratal him, his arms wrapped around you pulling you in closer and closer. You feel him under you, you feel yourself throbbing but you knew it wasn't the time nor the place. You give in to him, you let the kisses get deeper. You let him touch every part of you. You needed to feel something. Out of the corner of your eye you see Sheila walking out of the bar. You quickly hop back into the passenger seat, your dress basically falling off, your face flushed. Joel confused until he spots Sheila.

"Take me to your place." You say to Joel.

•

Drive there was quiet, his hand was on your thigh the entire time, occasionally you'd catch him staring at you, and you staring at him. In a way you knew that this was a bad idea, but you also knew it felt too right to not.. but then you had a lingering feeling of Tommy.. how free you felt earlier, how much he cared about you and how you felt. Your thoughts interrupted by your door opening.

"Sarah gone?" You ask.

"Yeah.. she will be back in the mornin for the wedding.."

"Okay."

Joel opens the door, and you are hit with countless memories. Cookouts, game nights, the night when you were 19 when a boy touched you appropriately you when he shouldn't have.. Joel threatening to kill him.. that night you witnessed how much Joel cared for you. Then again when you were 21.. sitting on his couch having a drink, the night you first really seen how attractive Joel was.. the same night he realized you grew up.

"You want comfy clothes, m'sure Sarah has somethin or you can wear somethin of mine.."

The thought of being in Joel's clothes was something you weren't sure you were ready for.. but it was something you now craved..

"A flannel would be nice, maybe some sweat pants."

A few moments later Joel has said things in hand.

"I don't gotta tell ya where the bathroom is. You already know."

You leave him with a smile. Walking down the same hall you have many times but this is different.. You change your clothes leaving your dress hanging on the door. You walk out to the living room Joel sitting there, legs spread, he looks huge. He looks like you want to climb him like a tree. Not saying a word you walk over standing in front of him. Lowering yourself onto him, legs on each side, the same position you were in the truck.

"Hi" you say.

"Hello" Joel's hands on your hips.

You lean into him, you just wanted to feel consumed by him. You rest your head on his shoulder as he tightens his arms around you.

"You wanna talk.?" Joel brushes your hair behind your ear.

"I don't know Joel. I don't even know where to begin."

"Mhmm. How bout you just say the first thing you think of and we go from there."

His thumb runs across your cheek.

"Well..right now.." you lay soft kisses down his jaw moving down his neck till you reach a sensitive spot between his neck and shoulder, making him him moan, shifting beneath you. "Right now I want to talk about that.. (you lay another kiss on him) I want to talk about how that makes you feel.. (and another kiss on his neck) how knowing I fucked myself so hard to the thought of you.." you nudge your hips forward applying a little pressure feeling him get stiff. "I want to talk about how wet I was for you earlier.."

Joel growls unbuttoning his flannel you have on exposing your breasts under. Joel curses under his breath as he takes you in.

" you gonna tell me or are you just gonna stare at me like you have all day."

You smirk.

"You're drunk. I can't. You will regret this in the mornin.. this is tricky.. this is..." Joel pulls himself back, you are still on his lap.

"Are you fucking serious... was I drunk this morning... was I drunk in the truck.. no I was tipsy maybe but not drunk. I can recall every fucking word I said. God damn it Joel. I'll just call Tommy." You hop off his lap turning to go to the bathroom to grab your dress and boots. You knew you shouldn't have said that, but you did.

•

"Fuck it" he grabs the back of your neck spinning you around kissing you. His hands pushing the flannel off your body, Joel picks you up putting you back on the couch. Kissing down your body, every single inch.

"Your family is gonna kill me."

His hands sliding into the waist band of the sweats pulling them down.

"Open your legs and don't fucking move."

You sink down into the couch spreading yourself wide open, your cunt glistening with arousal. Joel gets on his knees kneeling below you. Two fingers spread your folds open.

"Fuck look at this, this pretty mess. You do as I say. Ya hear me."

"Yes" you shake under his touch, he hasn't even done anything yet and you feel like you could combust. "Please" you whine.

"Please what.. use your words." Joel holding your thighs open digging his fingers into your skin, his mouth inches away from your cunt.

"Fuck- me." This came out more of a plead than anything.

Joel lets out a sadistic chuckle.

"You're getting my mouth baby girl because you can't handle the rest. But this should take care of ya."

Before you could respond Joel's thick heavy tongue swipes up your cunt, he repeats this a few times up and down as you buck your hips. Craving for more, grinding on his face. Each time you buck forward Joel digs his fingers into your thighs harder and harder. You know it's gonna bruise but you don't even care. You've had men eat you out but not like this..

"Oh my god Joel.. fuck that feels .. fuck so good."

You tangle your fingers in his curls, pulling his face in even more to your heat.

Joel now focuses on your clit. Flicking his tongue over it, getting you right where he wants you. Shaking under him, he sucks on your bud.

"Hmm you taste so fucking good, so fucking sweet." You see black as he thrusts two fingers inside curling hitting that squishy little spot that will send you over the edge. You look down at Joel, seeing him peeking his big brown eyes up from your cunt as he sucks on you thrusting his fingers steady in and out.

"Joel- please.."

You feel yourself clinch on him, you know you are close but you don't want it to end.

"Don't stop, please don't stop."

Joel lets out an animal like growl as you squirt all over him.

"You filthy little girl, your soakin me baby, look at that.... you want more.?"

"Yes.. yes please more I'm.. ah fuck I'm close Joel.."

He picks up the pace, his fingers fuck your cunt fast and deep. You can't even think, can't even speak besides his name and moans.

"That's it.. yes.. good girl... almost there baby come for me.. you can do it.. I want you too.."

The climax fills you, white hot and hard your whole body quivers as you squirt everywhere again. You lay your head back panting.

"Joel." Your voice barely there.

"Yeah darlin."

You lift your head up, all fucked out but eyes still screaming for more. You shimmy off the couch on to your knees opening your mouth. He moves to you towering over top, he unzips his jeans, pulling down his boxers his long, girthy rock hard cock falls out and it's even bigger than you thought. Your eyes widen.

"You sure you can handle this...I don't think you can."

He's now pissing you off.

"Make me take it then."

Nothing more needed to be said. Your mouth wide open his hands on both sides of your head as he thrusts his cock slowly into your mouth. Starting off little by little he slides into your mouth, you swirl and flick your tongue across his tip making him buck his his hips shoving his cock into your mouth deeper.. harder.. Joel picks up his pace slamming in and out, hitting the back of your throat, choking on it covering your pretty face with spit.

"Jesus Christ, look at you.. look at you swallowing my cock like that... fuck... "

Joel's grip on your face tightened as he thrusted faster, fucking your throat in a frenzy. You couldn't breathe but you didn't care. You wanted to prove a point. You wanted to show him how desperate you were for him.

"Such a good fucking girl.. my filthy fucking girl.."

Joel thrusts in and out, spit now covering your chest, eyes watering. Hair completely fucked. He pulls out just for a moment, he tilts your chin up to look at him, showing him the mess he has made of you.

"you are beautiful on your knees all fucked out, all ready f'me.."

"Joel." You whimper, panting still trying to catch your breath. "I want you to cum."

No warning , no nothing he slams himself back into your throat. You choke.

"I decide on that baby.. haven't you learned."

Joel uses your throat. Rough and hard something about it has your body taking over by this ache again. You wiggle under him spreading your legs a bit more. Your hands trace down your body finding your wetness. You whimper against his cock, between the sensation of him using your throat how he wants, and now the slight pressure you applied to yourself knowing that just this morning this was all a fantasy to you. Joel notices your noticeable whimpering, when he sees you touching yourself he freezes. Cock hard just laying in your mouth.

"Is that how you did it this morning.. thinking about me.. you can't get enough can you.. needy little girl.. did I give you permission to touch yourself?" Joel taunts.

You look up at him, eyes wide as you bob your head up and down. Sucking the tip as it touches your lips. You knew he's probably gonna punish you for this but maybe you wanted that. You bob harder shoving his whole length in your mouth , choking on it you circle your clit harder. Joel takes a handful of your hair pulling you back to look at him.

"You want me to fuck you so badly don't you darlin.. you have been such a good girl... I'm not fucking you but I will cum in that mouth. And maybe just maybe I'll make you cum again... open your mouth.. tongue out."

Joel slaps his cock on your tongue, he rubs it on your lips before a hard thrust into your mouth.

"Go on .. show me how you did it.. how you played with your self.."

Joel fucked your mouth long hard thrusts, each time you circle your clit making you jerk he'd shove his cock deeper into your mouth.

"Fuck get up, lay down on the couch and spread your legs."

You do as you are told. Joel stays standing in front of you. Fist full of his cock stroking it. Your pupils wide, as you take the sight of this in. He was beautiful. Completely naked in front of you. His tan body toned from years of contracting, his salt n pepper curls now a mess.

"Go on.. show me.." Joel grunts.

You spread wide, your fingers trail up and down, rubbing all the sensitive spots, you take two fingers and apply all the pressure to your clit, your body shakes as you do. It does feel good but it wasn't like Joel.

"Yeah that's it.. is that how you did it earlier.. did you moan my name in your bedroom. Your dad in earshot.."

"Yes.. ah yes I did.."

"Do it again.." he demanded.

Joel follows your pace, you feel your climax building but you wanted to touch Joel, you needed to touch him. You insert two fingers in feeling how he stretched you out earlier just from his fingers. Your core is hot, you feel it coming.

"Joel- Joel - I need you.. need to touch."

Joel moves to you, you reach up wrapping your hand around his cock taking over stroking him as you play with yourself.

"Fuck ... fuckk.. keeping doin that darlin."

The touch of him is what you needed your body was like a woman possessed with how hard that orgasm hit you. You lay limp still stroking Joel. He's gotten so hard, you can feel his pulse , every twitch with every stroke.

"Open your mouth."

Joel moves your hand taking over as you open for him. He gives two hard pumps as he spills all over your tongue, his cum dripping down your lips down your chin.

"You gonna swallow for me?"

You nod your head. Swallowing it all. Joel collapses on to the couch next to you. Silence for a moment, but not a bad silence. More of taking in the events that just happened. His hands grip your thigh as you look at him.

buzz * buzz * buzz

Your phone ringing.

The clock lights up it's 4:45 in the morning and Tommy is calling you.

Joel's gaze hardens, his grip tenses. You stare at the phone letting it ring. It's like you were on a different planet and now you're back to reality.

"Um I should go home.." you stand up getting off the couch naked you walk to the bathroom to grab your dress. Joel follows.

"You know you can just sleep here.. we gotta be at the venue early would just make sense.." Joel stands in the doorway of the bathroom. "You're actin weird again.."

You stare at yourself in the mirror. How fucked he had you. How much of a mess.

"If I stay here.. I'm sleeping in your bed.. you think you could handle that.. is that crossing a line we shouldn't.."

Your fingers trace down his bare chest. Soft groan leaves Joel's mouth. "Didn't think so.. so I'm going home.. I can walk it's just a few blocks.. could use the air."

You slip back on the sweats and flannel saying fuck the dress.

"I'll get these back to you.. see you later? Unless you still want to switch and be with Sheila.?" You smirk at him.

"Yeah I'll see ya. Can you at least tell me when you made it home... I wish you'd let me just drive ya s'not a problem."

"I'm fine Joel. I need to clear my head okay.. I can take care of me."

He closes the space between the two of you. His hand cupping your face as you melt into his touch.

"Promise me you don't regret this.. whatever this was.." he looks at you. Conflicted expression.

"I don't, no regrets at all. Go to bed old man."

He leans in to kiss you, it was sweet, but there was also a smidge of desperation behind it.

•

You leave Joel's, the sky in that in between of night and dawn. The air has a chill, and it's what you needed.

*buzz buzz*

Your phone vibrates as your screen lights up with both the names of Joel and Tommy miller...

"Fuck what am I doin." You mumble.

You reach your house. It's still quiet. No one is up yet but your dad would be soon. The back door was open so you went in that way. You knew you needed to sleep but you couldn't. Your body high on the orgasms Joel gave you, your mind in a billion different directions with conflicting feelings.

You decided to take a shower, wash off the negativity. You peel off Joel's clothes sliding into the warm water. Little bruises on your body are starting to show, your thighs are marked. A slight pink one on your shoulder. That one would need covered. In a way you loved them. It was a reminder that he was there. You do a quick wash, as you get out of the shower your phone buzz's again.. this time dolly..

"Fucckkkkk"

* darlin I am sorry about Sheila.. she was out of line but so were you. I don't want to have to deal with drama on my wedding day so I'd appreciate that if you do switch with her.. it's easier.

You throw your phone down on to the counter. Normally this would be just whatever. You'd just go be with Tommy.. but you can't. You can't shake proving a point. You screenshot the text sending it to Joel. Replying to his other text asking if you made it home.

He replies

Joel miller • not happenin. You are on my arms all night. Gotta keep you away from my brother.

You • stop it. But you are right. Not happenin. Need my savior in case I need Savin. Maybe fuck me in the church bathroom.

Joel • filthy. Go to sleep. Need to be pretty for me later.

You were feeling bold so you sent a picture, your body wet, the bruises visible.

Joel • Jesus.

You go to check your other texts

Tommy miller • sweet girl hope you made it home safe.. had a great night with you. Save me a dance tomorrow?

You • hey! Yes it was fun. I came home and passed out. And of course.!

Tommy : Sheila texted me. Says you are with me now?

You • yeah dolly said somethin.. but no I'm not letting her have her way.. nothing against you Tommy.. you've got me to Dance with all night. <3

Buzz

Joel: if I marked up your body like that can you imagine what I'll do to that pretty tight little cunt.

You shriek at the thought.

You • filthy. Go to bed. Or maybe come show me then.. sure my dad wouldn't mind you coming over at dawn.

Joel • yeah hearin his daughter scream his best friend's name.. this is a conversation for later. Get some sleep.

You crawl into bed setting an alarm.

Sleep came somewhat easy until..

*

"It's okay to want both of us." Joel looks at you as he sets you down on his cock taking it all in as Tommy comes in front of you, rubbing his cock on your lips...

*

"What the actual fuck."

•

You slept for maybe 2 hours. You had a time schedule today and you didn't wanna give dolly another reason to be pissed at you.

You had to meet the wedding party at the venue for the reception first. That's where everyone was getting ready. Before you left you put some foundation and powder on that little red mark that now has a purple tint to it. You threw a bag together with the things you would need for the day.

Buzz buzz

You glance down your phone going crazy.

Sister - 3 texts

Tommy - 2 texts

Dolly - 4 texts

You ignore all their names searching for his.. and nothing..

you made your way downstairs, you dad sitting in his recliner.

"Hey babydoll, what time did ya make it back.?"

Shit you thought.

"It was late.. um.. you talk to dolly.. ?"

Your dad walks over to you hugging you.

"Yeah baby doll, just let it go.. do what she needs you to do.."

You look at him, stone expression.

"No.. no dad I won't.. why the hell did you think I left here in the first place.. I'm not a fucking child."

He looks at you. Hurt.

"Not what I meant... wait.. is that Joel's flannel.?"

Fuckkkkkkkkk

"Ah yeah, it was late I was upset... he let me vent to him for a few.. I passed out and walked home."

(It wasn't a complete lie)

"Okay just figured you were with Tommy. You two seemed pretty chummy. But good glad Joel took care of ya."

"Yup took great care of me... okay dad see ya later love ya."

"Love ya too kid."

Your phone rings it's Tommy.

"Sweet girl I'm here to pick you up, Joel said He'd just meet us there.. had to get Sarah."

This kind of annoyed you. He promised he would be here. He made you promise that you didn't regret last night.. but what if he does. Is that why he didn't pick you up.

You walk outside, Tommy standing there his long dark hair pulled back, his tan skin glows in the sunlight. His freckles more noticeable. His wife beater clings on to him, covered by a button down. Tight jeans l, his big ass belt buckle and boots.

"Well you clean up nice."

You smile at him, going in for a hug.

"Nice flannel." Tommy pulls back looking at you.

"Uh yeah not mine... went back to Joel's for a bit.. I needed to vent.. um."

Tommy's expression went from happy to a little confused . "It's fine sweetheart, glad you got to get things off your chest.. Joel can be a good listener when he wants to be." He chuckles.

"Okay.. yeah let's forget about all that.. new day.. "

Tommy opens your door helping you in. The miller boys knew how woman deserved to be treated.

The space filled with the hum of the truck and background of the radio.

"Sooo.. have you thought about it.. about going on a date.. I dont wanna over step I know you have alot.. doesn't even have to be a date.. we can just hang out.. I don't know I just feel lighter with you."

Tommy puts his hand on your sensitive thigh, not thinking a moan slips from your mouth.

Tommy's head cocks in curiosity of the little sound you just let out. You didn't know if it was the sensitivity of the marks from Joel or maybe it was the touch of Tommy. He licks his lips staring at you. His grip tightens and you do it again.

"Well that's a sweet little sound." The husky southern drawl in full effect.

You're head spinning because Joel said the same exact thing. This was cut short as you parked into the Venues lot. You couldn't breathe you needed out. Your door swings open fully expecting Tommy to be the one who opened it.. but it was Joel.

•

Your eyes wide like you have seen a ghost. He examined your body language staring into your soul he reaches out his hand pulling you out.

"Hey." Voice thick sweet as honey.

He looks at you again pulling you into a hug his lips linger above your ear. "Ballsy move wearing that.." the flannel falls off your shoulder exposing the little spot covered in foundation not quite your skin tone. Discreetly Joel runs his thumb across it.

"Hi" you finally reply. Looking behind him Tommy watching you.

You were totally fucked.

•

All three of you walk in together, Sheila's head snaps your way seeing you with both brothers . whispering something to one of the other girls. (She's such a slut.) they giggle.

"Can you behave today.?" Joel looks at you, the statement was innocent but the look in his eyes wasn't.

"Nope." You crack a wide smile.

You leave the two men walking back to where the "dressing room" was. You set yourself up in a little corner, not really wanting to be bothered. You do your make up, you opt to curl your long hair in hopes that would cover the tiny mark.

You slip out of your clothes, stepping in to your dress. You couldn't help but feel the eyes on you. Sheila staring as Dolly makes her way over to you...

"Hey darlin girl.."

"Hey" you gruffly reply.

"I fixed things we are good, Joel came to me himself.."

"Great... just tell your bitch of a friend to start away from me. Or I'll finish what I should have done last night.."

"People are just worried hun.."

"About? I'm fine." You pin your hair back trying to stay busy.

"I'm just saying , don't bite off more you can chew.. and don't.."

"Dolly I'm fine. Last night was just a lot, I have a lot going on. Today is about you. Focus on your beautiful wedding."

You hug her hoping that would get her to leave you alone.

•

An hour till ceremony.

*buzz

•Joel miller - saved ya once again.

•you - I know. Thank you.

•Joel miller - you can make it up to me later.

You sit there wandering mind.

*buzz

Tommy miller - can't help to wonder what other parts of you make you let out that sweet little moan.

You contemplate on what you say.. your mind goes to curiosity of how it would be with Tommy. Then to the fact that they are in the same room with one another texting you these things.

•

Half hour

Now it was time to get the bridesmaids and groomsman together. You walk into the hallway your silk gown clinging to your curves. You spot one.. then you spot the other.. both looking straight at you.

You hug Tommy first, his hands tight around your waist.

"You look beautiful." He gently kisses your cheek. This was nothing he's done it before, but this opened your curiosity even more. How gentle and soft his lips were, how they would feel else where.. That was quickly interrupted, by a big hand grabbing yours pulling you to him. Tight hug. His hands replacing the spot Tommy's were. It's like he posses you. You want to collapse under the smallest touches from him. He smells so good. He's wearing a different cologne, but still mixed with the normal intoxicating scent of him.

He speaks softly into your ear so you are the only one to hear him.

"You do look beautiful.. but I know you will look even more beautiful when I make you cum later."

You gasp.

He pushes your hair back, looking down at your shoulder.

It was like no one was there.

"Well you look nice mr miller, it's a shame you have to be paired with her, we would be the hottest ones in there."

Sheila chuckles as she stands next to you. Tommy quickly moving over as well.

"Wow Sheila thanks are you saying I'm the ugly brother." Tommy chuckles.

"She would be blind if that's what she's implying." You smile at Tommy. This statement making Joel clinch his jaw. "I mean any woman would be lucky to have either one of you.. just not you Sheila.. you deserve a cockroach."

She glares at you rolling her eyes.

The music begins meaning it's time. You stand next to Joel as your hand shake. He reaches down linking his hands with yours.

"Easy darlin. It's alright."

He knows your anxiety how you get in situations like this. "I got you."

He rubs his thumb on your little hand, staring at it.

"Joel."

"Yeah honey.?"

You look at him tears filling your eyes.. you don't know what's came over you.

"I -"

You were cut off by the music to enter the church. You hook his arm, his grip tight, he takes his other hand playing with your fingers.

You look over at him smiling.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what darlin.?"

"Calm me down the way you do, but at the same time drive me crazy.?"

You were the last couple to walk down. Joel seen this as an opportunity that he had you alone just for a moment. He swings you around to face him, his hands run down your body, his hands grip your ass as he presses his lips to yours. Kiss was short as he pulled away when it was your que to walk.

"That did the opposite of calming me..."

Joel chuckles.

•

The church was decorated beautifully, you went to your spot in line of the bridesmaids. In the crowd you spot your dad, your sister, and Sarah. The ceremony was tender and heartfelt. Even as much as you were annoyed with dolly she's your aunt and you are so happy that she gets her happy ending. The music plays to exit and your heart skips a beat. Eager to get back to Joel knowing that tonight's going to be a long one with all the family around. You meet in the middle linking your arm through his.

"That was beautiful."You say.

"You're beautiful... I need to get you alone."

You continue walking, trying to finish this conversation before you can't.

"How... Sarah will ride with you.. my family is here.. Tommy.. I'm overwhelmed Joel."

"I don't know. But I'll make it happen... actually maybe we shouldn't.. maybe just take a break from this.. I don't know.." Joel looks at you confused making you go dead silent.

"Fine then we won't." You look at him tears building.

You make it back to the lobby of the church, everyone mingling before it's time to move to the reception. You stand there with Joel, and Tommy. Walking to you is the group of your sister, your dad and Sarah.

"Hey girlllllll" Sarah smiles as she hugs you.

"Hi love, you look great. How are things!"

"Things are good! I'm living in Dallas now. Going to school, visit here when I can.. you know how my dad is.."

You laugh.. "yeahhhh I do..."

"So England.. how was that.? How's your beautiful man with that charming accent."

"Well considering he's engaged to someone that's not me.." you shrug.

"No way, did you tell dad. Let him handle him.. you seeing anyone.?"

You look over, Joel is listening.

"Um I don't know.. kind of.. it's I don't know what it is.. complicated definitely."

"Ohhhh is it... who who" Sarah squeals.

"Can't tell ya." You wink.

Sarah groans. "Ugh that's no fun. I want to know all the gossip."

Tommy comes over putting his arm around both you and Sarah.

"So what are we talking about?" He looks back and forth between the two of you. Joel still lingering talking to your dad.. well sort of just listening to your dad as he listens to your conversation.

"Nothing we were talking about nothing." You give Sarah the look.

Everyone starts leaving the church. You figured you'd catch a ride with your dad.

"Hey sweetie why don't you ride with Tommy. Told some people I could give them a lift."

"Sure dad." You hug him, as Tommy stands waiting. Like clockwork he opens your door and into the truck you go. Parked across is Joel.. and if looks could kill the truck would have been blown to smithereens. Sarah sits in the passenger seat talking as Joel speeds out.

•

This feels all too familiar. Like Deja vu almost.

"Sooo.." Tommy trails off. You turn to look at him, he's inches away. You could feel his breath. He smells of mint and sandlewood.

"Sooo." You smile. Tommy reaches over his hand on your thigh. You shiver under his touch as he moves his hand slowly till he reaches the fabric of your panties.

"This okay?" His drawl heavy and velvet. Lust filled almost.

You nod staring at him. Really realizing how beautiful he was. How gentle.

He doesn't go in he just runs his fingers across where your covered heat is. You whimper because as much as you hate to admit it and as much as it complicates things even more you do feel something.

"Tommy..." you moan. He gently presses his lips to you, warm soft and welcoming. Something about it was so delicate. Tommy's tongue traces your bottom lip asking to enter your mouth, you let him. His hand wrapping around the back of your neck pulling you in closer as his tongue swirls around yours. The grip on the back of your neck was just enough pressure to make you moan into his mouth.

"Fuck I don't think I'd ever get tired of hearing that."

He goes back into kissing you, deepening with every second your lips were on one another. You run your hands down his Chest, he goes to pull you to him and you pull back knowing if you go to him things will escalate to a point you don't know if you can handle at this moment.. it's not that you didn't want too because you kinda did.

At this point everyone has left the parking lot leaving you there.

"Tommy.. we gotta go.." you let out a deep breath as You sit there not knowing how to feel besides that this is fucked all the way up...

and Joel is going to be furious.

•

You reach the reception hall, you both were the last of the wedding party to arrive. Joel's face in a scowl.

"Where the fuck have you been.?" Joel asks his jaw tight, hands balled into a fist.

"Tommy drove. Dad made me ride with him..."

"I know that.." he looks at you not knowing how to feel. You aren't his. He ain't yours. Hell has your dad's best friend. He's Tommy's brother. Sarah's dad.

"Joel.. don't. I don't know what you want me to say.. what you want me to do... thought you just wanted to forget about it today.."

He looks away dead stare on Tommy.

The music plays.

All the pairs enter one by one. No cute finger playing this time. Just a firm lock on your arm.

Entrances end, everyone welcomes In dolly and Randy. You thank god you can attempt to get some space. You walk outside to the edge of the building. Footsteps coming behind you and arms wrap around your waist spinning you around.

"Hey you promised me a dance." Tommy's big brown eyes glimmer.

"I indeed did Tommy miller." You smile. His button up open. His tie still around his neck. His tank top clinging to him. He looks so good. "Give me a minute okay.. just overstimulated. I'll be in soon." He leaves you with a kiss on the check. You stand there for a few minutes more, watching Tommy walk back in noticing a figure in the distance that could only be Joel.

You turn back around facing the road watching as cars go by.. footsteps approaching.

"What the fuck are you doing. You think this is okay. Maybe Sheila was right."

Wide eyed you look at him.

"Joel.... you.. You don't mean that... it's just.. I don't know.. " He scoffs with a laugh.

"You think I'm stupid darlin. How it must feed your ego to have both of us wrapped around your finger... you leave for years then come back and fuck with my head.. hell even Tommy's head.

You roll your eyes

"Do I Joel.. do I really.. you can't touch me in public.. you whisper to me in secret.. Hell Half the time you avoid me or stand in the distance listening to me. You pull me in and then push me away.. you didn't pick me up this morning which led to me think you avoided me or you were regretting last night. then you come here acting like everything is fine.. then it's oh let's forget it all.. you are scared... you are scared that there is something here. Regardless of how messy and complicated.. And maybe Tommy isn't."

You storm past his shoulder checking him.

You rush to the bathroom, your face flooded with tears.

Knock knock

"Hey it's Sarah.. what's going on. You want to let me in?"

You open up, Sarah sliding in.

"Sarah I-" you just sob.

She takes you in to a hug. Petting your head.

"Sarah I'm so Confused ..."

You look up at her. "And I can't tell you I can't tell anyone."

There is a bang on the door.

"Sarah.. it's dad.. everything okay.?"

You couldn't tell him to go away because that would bring up questions.

"Yeah dad we will be out in a second." Sarah calls out.

"Can you ask her if it's okay if I talk to her.? Maybe I could help." She looks at you waiting for your answer.

"Yeah.. yeah fine." You shrug.

Sarah opens the door slipping out as Joel slips in.

He stands there , inches away waiting until Sarah has hopefully gone away. You look at him and just sob.

"C'mere baby I'm sorry.. I'm sorry.. this is hard for me too.. I shouldn't have said those things.. shouldn't push you away."

"Joel.. I have to tell you something and you cannot freak out."

His grip around you tightens.

"I swear Joel. You can't... Tommy kissed me.. that's why we were late.. it was just a kiss and he gripped my thigh and they are sensitive because.." (you leave out a bit of information but it was nothing really.. kind of..)

You pull up the dress, the nail marks, with little purple bruises.

"Then I moaned and I didn't mean too but it just.." you were now rambling.

He looks at you and chuckles.

"Joel how is this funny.. and then you were an ass to me saying let's forget things and I can't I can't forget you.. I can't forget last night.. and I'm just fucking I don't know.. I'm fucking confused."

You pull back to look him in the eyes.

"Do you regret last night.?" His voice stern.

"No."

He kisses down your jaw, down your neck.

"Okay. So you won't mind if I do this."

His hand trails up your thighs digging his nails into those already left marks, you moan but he cuts you off with his lips to yours his tongue sliding in invading you.

He pulls away to look at you.

"Did Tommy do it like that.?" He whispers.

Your mouth drops.

"Joel.. don't.."

"Darlin you're mine.. do what you need to do but just know that."

"Joel you can't just say shit like that.." you bark at him.

He opens up the bathroom door walking out not answering you.. You wait a moment and you do the same.

•

The reception was lively. Everyone dancing. You dance mainly with Sarah and Tommy. Just having fun, goofing around like old times. Every now and then Tommy brushes your hand, and in those moments you swear you watch Joel clinch his jaw as he sits with your dad watching. The music switches to a slow song, Sarah gets taken by one of the groomsman,and Tommy stares at you.

"I guess I should keep my promise." You walk towards him , as he pulls you in. Wrapping his arms around your waist, your arms around his neck.

Tommy is warm. Warm like the sun.

His linger above your ear, you sway to the music comfortably.

"This is a change from the other night." You laugh.

"Yeah, good change though. Not sayin havin your body on me in that way wasn't.. this is just.. this is nice.. It's comforting."

You look up at him, his big brown eyes staring like you are the prettiest thing he has ever seen. You push a strand of his dark hair out of his face.

"You are comforting Tommy.. like a light in the darkness of my mind."

He goes to kiss your forehead, when a hand touches his shoulder.

"Little brother.. you mind if I cut in.?" Tommy lets go as Joel takes over.

"She's all yours." Tommy walks away, looking back as Joel grips on your waist.

Your body in shock. As you feel all the eyes in the room on you.

"Ballsy move Mr miller." You nuzzle your head into his shoulder. Maybe a little more comfortable than you should be.

"You said I didn't touch you in public and I was scared.. this is me proving somethin. You've consumed my every thought today. All I have wanted is to touch you in every way. That's why I watch you. Why I listen." you look up at him.. Joel shows his emotions in his eyes, you can tell he really means it.

"You are gonna start lots of rumors..." you smile.

"Not rumors if there is truth behind some of it.."

you notice Tommy in the corner talking to one of the other bridesmaids, everyone seems pre occupied, giving you a moment to do something that's been on your mind all day. You cup his face exactly how you did in the truck, him melting under your touch, you trailed your hand down his body to the top of his belt, you inch your hand to go lower when he grabs your wrist.

he looks down at you, his brown eyes now black.

"Meet me outside.. behind my truck.. 5 minutes."

The song ends you both walk towards the tables. Joel leaves you walking outside. You linger by the door hoping you can sneak out. You wait a few minutes and you bolt outside. Joel's truck is parked in the far side of the lot close to the woods. You walk down looking for him, not seeing him you walk to the opening of the woods when he peeks out from a tree pulling you into the woods.

You let out a shriek followed by his hand over your mouth.

"Quiet."Joel slips his hand under your dress.

"I just want to feel you. How soft, how wet, how warm."

You moan under his hand that's covering your mouth.

Your breath picks up as Joel dips two fingers in. You can't speak all you can do is moan against his hand which unironically is only stifling your moans a bit.

He doesn't take his time with you. It's too risky, he's too full of need. He inserts two fingers in pumping furiously into your wetness. Each pump you tighten on his fingers. Your on body fire. Your legs shaking e it didn't take long for him to know the exact spots on your body that drive you crazy.

"Joel.. Joel.." you manage to speak under his hand.

"Quiet baby"

Joel moved his hand as he does he hooks his fingers making you squeal which was cut off by his lips. For a moment it felt like everything froze and all that mattered was Joel kissing you. Long and hard, so much passion. There was no inviting one another in, his tongue owned yours, his teeth grazing over your bottom lip. It was like he was trying to prove something. Something to you. Something to himself. As much as you were enjoying his fingers this was 10000 better and that's how you knew you were truly fucked. You both pull away Joel moving his hands to hold your face staring at you. it's like a light bulb goes off.

"So what are we gonna do about this?" You ask out of breath. Joel's hands roam your body memorizing every inch of how you feel.

"What do you want." Joel lays sweet kisses on your shoulder.

"You. I want you."

Then we figure it out." Joel kisses your forehead.

You both freeze as footsteps approach quickly putting space between. You hide behind a tree as Joel walks back to the edge of the lot to see who was there. You stay there hidden. You listen in the distance when you hear that sweet silky voice.. Tommy.

•

"Hey big brother, have you seen her? Figured maybe she needed air."

You can't see too much through the trees but you can see just enough to see Joel's whole body tense up. You hated this. You hated that they were brothers. But maybe that's why you liked them so much in a twisted way the things the one didn't have the other one did.

"I haven't seen her, just came out for a smoke."

Joel put his hands on his hips,

The dad pose he does.

"Okay well if you do, just let her know I was looking for her."

"Sure sure.."

Joel walks away. Tommy lights up a cigarette. You lean on the tree debating if there was another way out of these woods. You watch for a bit, watching Tommy's body language, the way he stands, the way his puffs on the cigarette. Your mind wanders back to the conversation you just had with Joel, now these contradicting feelings for Tommy. He walks towards his truck, you inch towards the lot maybe gonna try to sneak out. You make it to the end and there he stands.

(Fuck that's not weird at all.)

"Hey" you smile.

"Hi sweetheart, where have you been.?"

(Shit think of a lie.)

"Um so I thought I seen a raccoon, and I love those guys, I haven't seen one since I been back home they don't have them in England.."

Tommy chuckles.

"Should have told me, I would have gotten it."

"No you would have shot it , Mr sniper man."

"Hey I could have made you one of those hats with the tail. You'd be pretty cute In that."

You laugh. Like really laugh. Something that hasn't happened in a while. Tommy grabs your hand swinging back and forth like teenagers.

"Should probably go back in.." you look at him.

"Yeah we probably should..." he trails off as he pulls you to him.

"Tommy... I.. I'm sorry I'm just overwhelmed.." you back away, his eyes fill with sadness.

"It's fine, I shouldn't come on so strong.."

"No you're fine it's me. I'm just a mess. You are great and sweet and fucking beautiful. I just need to figure my shit out."

"I understand that sweet girl I'm here for you no matter what. You think I'm beautiful?" He does that cheeky smirk.

You look into his pretty brown eyes, and you can't help but smile. It's like your body owns your mind you go in to hug Tommy again, he brings you in and just holds you there. Your arms wrapped around his neck, his tight grip on your waist. You lay your head on his shoulder.

"You are literally sunshine in human form."you whisper in his ear. You look up to see that grin.

Tommy lets you go.

"If I didn't move I was going to kiss you.. and I don't want to overwhelm you even more than you already are.. but just know that. "

You turn walking back into the building. Everyone is still dancing, Joel is back in the corner with your dad talking to some of the others. He's back to watching you, as soon as you entered it's like his body knew. Your body the same way it's like he has a spell on you. A few feet near him and you are done for.

"Hey there you are." Sarah runs over. "Where have you been, everyone's been asking.. Tommy especially what's going on there? Would be kinda weird he's my uncle but I mean.. why not yall would be cute.. and he's a good man.. "she shrugs with a smile

"Nothing, nothing is going on.. he just cares about me, the other night we talked about life... uhhh yeah.. okay... I think I need to go home.. um im gonna call a uber or somethin."

You run to the back grabbing your things. You throw everything into a bag and bolt out the door. You didn't know how but you needed to be anywhere but here. You decided to walk down the road a bit to the gas station.

You : where are you.

Joel miller : sitting here talking to your dad and Tommy. He seems chipper. Anything I need to know. Won't be mad. Where are you.? Haven't seen you in a bit.

You : I left.

Joel miller : where. I'm on my way.

•

You go into the gas station, buying whatever cheap liquor they have. You sit on the curb enjoying being alone just watching people come and go. 20 minutes since Joel's last text. About half the bottle gone now. You scroll through your phone. Ignoring all the incoming calls and texts.

Sarah miller : be safe. If you need to vent just tell me. I'm worried about you. Xoxo

Dad : hey baby girl you alright?

Tommy miller : 🦝

That made you laugh, and then when you looked up your heart felt like it was going explode.

Joel's truck in front of you, he parks it as he gets out.

"You came."

Joel picks you up off the curb. "You needed me. I'm here."

You both were done fighting your feelings, you were done being careful. (For tonight at least.) He pulls you in, hands on your face as his lips consume yours. You moan into his mouth, as his hands travel all over your body.

"Joel-". You manage to say between kisses.

"Take me somewhere, anywhere."

He stops long enough to put you In the truck closing your door. He drives for a bit, down some backroads until he reaches a field he pulls in to. It's dark but you can tell there are wildflowers everywhere, and the lightning bugs are out. He reaches In the back seat grabbing a few blankets he keeps in case of emergencies.

"Come on." He motions. You follow him as he lets down the gate to the bed of the truck. He throws the blankets in there before he helps you up.

You crawl in, Joel squeezing beside you.

"C'mere." He opens his arms

You nuzzle yourself into Joel. You finally let out a breath that you feel like you have been holding in all day.

"I've needed this all day." You say as you curl your self more into Joel.

Joel plays with your hair, letting out a deep breath himself. "I've needed you all day."

You look up at him, no words could say what either one of you were thinking. He leans down pressing his lips to yours. At first it was safe, it was a peck until he realized that you were alone. Completely alone. No one out here for miles. He pulled back just to look at you before he dove right back in. The hunger taking over. Messy kisses, kisses that felt like if you didn't do this now you would never have the chance again. He's taken over your mouth, his tongue all over his teeth graze your bottom lip gently nibbling and sucking on it, you let out a moan you swear people could hear from miles away. He doesn't tell you to be quiet he doesn't put his hand on your mouth he just makes his way kissing down your jaw to your neck. Your breath trembles as you feel his hand slip under your dress, rubbing all the way up your thigh.

You unbuckle his belt, then his pants. You kinda thought he would stop you.. but he didn't instead he pulls off his teeshirt he changed into before he came to get you. His lips find his way back to yours as he unzips your dress, you pull down his jeans his underwear with it. His hands kneed your breasts and he opens your legs getting Between, he hooks his fingers pulling your panties off, you lay naked under him. His hand cups your face as he lines himself up with your entrance.

"You sure bout this." Joel looks you in the eyes, your hips buck impatiently.

"Does it feel like I'm sure, because to me one I've never been wetter and two I have never wanted anyone as bad as I -" Joel cuts you off by one hard thrust into you, followed by 3 more getting your body adjusted to him.

"Fuck Joel, god feels so-"

Joel starts a rhythm, hard, deep , but steady. He wraps his hand around the back of you neck and he leans down, his body pressed on yours, you wrap your legs around pulling him in more making his thrusts hit your cervix, this makes your tighten your legs around him even harder.

"Yes that's it baby, I feel you clinchin on me.. good girl taking it so well."

Joel tangles his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck pulling your head back, each thrust feels like you could levitate.

"Talk to me baby.. feel good?" Joel grunts as he holds your waist as he thrust in and out, in and out. You stare up eyes glisten high on lust.

"Harder." You choke out.

He pauses for a moment, looking down his thumb traces your bottom lip. Joel's eyes darken. Thunder rumbles, lightning fills the sky. Joel's grip on your waits tightens as he thrusts again one slow deep one before he switches completely. He holds you as he slams in over and over. You are taking every single inch of him. Thunder rumbles again followed by pounding rain. Joel doesn't stop if anything he fucks you harder as the rain comes down.

"Fuck yeah give it to me Joel." You cup his face , just have you done making him melt, making him lose control. You can't think it's just slam after slam inside you.

You stare into his eyes taking it all in. Then it hits you, that fire in your core, clinching tightly on him.

"You gonna cum f'me, did daddy fuck you hard enough."

You loved the filthy side of him, it took you to another level.

He thrusts in and out a few more times

"Mhmm yes.. don't stop... please don't- fuck Joel yes I'm coming.."

Rain is pouring all around you. Joel fucks you through your climax.

"We should get going." Joel sighs, truck bed wet, the blankets soaked, and you both look like you went swimming.

"No" you push Joel to lay down, you move yourself on top of him. Legs on each side straddling His cock still hard. You move your hips up just enough to line him up with you before fall back taking in all of him.

"Holy fuck" Joel curses.

You bounce your hips up and down, steady rhythm taking in all of him with each bounce. Your wet bodies slamming into one another, your wet long hair dripping. The rain comes down harder as Joel sits up wrapping his arms around you as you ride him. You lean back giving that arch to hit deeper.

"Fuckin pretty riding my cock. Clinching down on me already."

Joel lets out a growl as you pick up your pace.

"You gonna cum for me baby." You ask.

Something about that made Joel's demeanor switch. From dominating, to submitting to you.

You sink your hips up and down up and down, his grip tightens on your waist.

"Fuck yes baby ride my cock, just like that. I'm gonna fill you up"

You feel Joel's cock twitch inside of you, followed by his hot cum spilling inside. The rain still pouring, lightning strikes again.

You both hop out of the truck bed, attempting to find your now soaked clothes.

•

Joel cranks the heat in the truck attempting to get dry. His hands stay on some part of you. Your phone keeps buzzing but you just ignore it.

"Is Sarah staying home tonight?"

You look over at Joel.

"Yeah I think so, you want me to drop you home?"

"I left my dress there the other night.. should probably get it before someone sees it and asks questions.."

"Yeah we can go get it, I'll get you dry clothes too. If anything you can stay for a bit. Sure Sarah would like to spend time with you."

You look down getting anxious.

"Yeah I just I just don't know right now... Joel.."

"Yeah baby?"

"We definitely crossed a line.. something we can't take back.. something we can't go back from."

"I know.." he squeezed your thigh, not in a sexual way but in a way that told you that's it's okay.

•

You reach Joel's house, your soaked dress clinging to you. Giggling as you walk in until you freeze. Tommy and Sarah sit on the couch as your dress sits on the table. You all stare at one another waiting for someone to say something.

"So what's going on. Yall okay!?" Tommy asks.

You stand frozen. How are you here. How 20 minutes ago it was Joel just Joel. But now seeing Tommy it's all fuzzy. You look back and forth shaking.

"Got caught in the storm.. hit a back road, got stuck, she left her dress, came to get it before I take her home."

Joel chimes in. Always saving you.

You notice Tommy's body language. How he's quiet.

"Yeah I left it here the other night." You grab the dress off the table, your hands still trembling. "Um I should go..." you motion to the door.

"No stay, I can get you clothes. Come with me." Sarah gets up heading for the stairs and you follow. You make it up to her room and she shuts and locks the door.

"So what's actually going on, and please don't lie to me."

Tag list : @ohhoneypascal @mani-pedro @megangovier @littledes1re @shaunasrabbit @glitterspark @umadirectioner @darknight3904 @thoughtfullypinkgiver @iknowisoundcrazy @gardeniaviolets

[verricherri]

Reasons Rhett Falls in Love With You (Over and Over)

A/N: HEHEHEHHEHEHE 😈 you already know what kind of mess this is about to be Warnings: if you thought you were about to recover from the endless trap that is Lewis Pullman — don’t. i’m dragging you straight to the bottom with me and we’re gonna rot together 💅 Masterlist Feedback and reposts are appreciated  ☀️

The Way You Talk to Amy

Rhett doesn’t mean to eavesdrop. Not really. He’s halfway through brushing dirt off his boots, crouched just inside the barn, when he hears your voice drifting from the porch — light, warm, touched with that soft cadence that makes his ribs ache in a way he can’t explain.

He doesn’t move. Just listens.

You’re sitting beside Amy, and she’s going on about a colt she saw out near the creek — skinny thing, barely a few months old. Most people brush her off when she gets like this, too full of excitement and facts and possibilities. But not you. Never you.

You ask questions. Real ones. Not the kind meant to placate a ten-year-old, but the kind that say, I care what you think. I want to know more.

“Think he’ll let me ride him when he’s older?” Amy asks, hopeful. “You?” You laugh, a smile shaping every word. “He’ll be lucky if you don’t train him better than half the men on this ranch.”

Amy laughs so loud it echoes, pride curling in her chest. Rhett feels it too — like warmth blooming from the inside out.

He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms, watching you.

The way your braid slips over your shoulder. The way your thumb gently rubs circles into Amy’s knee. The way Amy looks at you like you hung the moon and rearranged the stars just for her.

You glance up and spot him.

“You done eavesdroppin’, Abbott?” He lifts a brow, easy. “Didn’t know I was invited.” You pat the porch beside you. “Now you are.”

And he sits. Not because he needs to — he’s got chores, horses to tend, fences to mend. But because this? This is what home feels like. Amy’s legs swinging against the wood, your laughter cutting clean through the dusk, the scent of sun and hay and your shampoo in the air.

He doesn’t say it. Not out loud.

But this is what love looks like.

—

The Way You Fit Into the Kitchen Like You’ve Always Been There

It starts the same way every morning now — the clang of a skillet, the smell of bacon, the quiet hum of your voice carrying over the clatter of breakfast.

And it always begins with you elbowing Rhett out of the way.

“Move, cowboy. You’re blocking the stove.”

He doesn’t argue. Not really. Just grumbles something about the wrong skillet.

“It’s a pancake, Rhett. Not a classified mission.”

You wear his old flannel like it’s your armour, hair twisted up, mismatched socks sliding across tile. Amy sets the table with quiet focus. Royal mutters about the paper and his missing glasses. Perry tries — and fails — to sneak bacon off the plate.

You swat his hand without even turning. “Not unless you’re feeding the dog.”

The kitchen is full — not just with people, but with something unspoken. Something steady. Something like you.

Cecilia breezes in, lips parted in surprise. “Well, I’ll be damned. She’s cooking for you boys now?” “Not for them,” you say. “They just keep showing up.”

Rhett stands in the doorway, pretending to sip coffee, but mostly just watching you flip the last pancake, hips swaying to music that isn’t even playing.

You don’t just fit. You belong.

Later, when the plates are scraped clean and the house is quiet again, he finds you rinsing dishes, sleeves rolled, suds on your wrist.

He slides behind you, wraps his arms around your waist, presses a kiss to the place where your neck meets your shoulder.

“You like bossin’ my whole family around?” You lean into him, smile tucked into your voice. “Someone’s gotta do it.” He exhales against your skin. “Don’t stop.”

You won’t. He knows that now.

—

The Way You Carry Quiet Joy

Some days are heavier than others. But this one? This one’s light.

He finds you out by the line, hanging laundry. There’s grass stuck to your calf, your skirt twisting in the breeze like it’s dancing for no one but the wind. You’re humming again — that tune he still can’t name — soft and steady, like your own personal heartbeat.

He doesn’t say anything.

Just leans against the fencepost, one arm slung over the top rail, watching you.

You move with ease. Peg, shake, lift. Shirt after shirt, sheet after sheet. Your fingers work without thought. But your smile — that’s what gets him.

Amy runs by, chasing the dog. You laugh, loud and unfiltered. The kind of laugh that says, I’m safe. I’m happy. I’m here.

Rhett doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

He just lets himself feel it — that ache that comes from wanting something so badly, it hurts a little just to watch it exist.

You spot him eventually. “What’re you starin’ at, Abbott?” “Just admirin’ the view.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile softens.

He stays longer than he needs to. Just to be near it. Just to watch you be.

—

The Way You See What He Can’t Say — And Say It For Him

Dinner’s tense.

Royal’s worked up — about the barn, about the storm, about the goddamn roof that still isn’t fixed.

“You always leave things half done,” he grumbles. “Same story since you were seventeen.”

Rhett’s jaw locks. He doesn’t lift his eyes from the plate. He’s learned not to. Learned to take the hit, swallow it, bury it deep.

But then your fork clinks softly against your plate.

“He shows up,” you say, voice calm. “Every day. Whether anyone thanks him or not.” Royal snorts. “That supposed to mean something?”

You stare him down. No raise in volume. No shake in your hands. Just steady, clean honesty.

“It means he gets the roof done. Just not your way.”

The silence that follows is almost violent.

Cecilia shifts. Amy looks between faces. Perry blinks like maybe he just saw lightning strike indoors.

But you? You just keep eating. As if it’s no big deal to defend a man’s soul like that.

Rhett can’t look at you. Not right away. Not without choking.

But eventually, he glances sideways. And you’re not looking back. You don’t need to.

You already said the thing he never could.

And it wrecks him. Every time.

—

The Way You Say His Name When You’re Laughing

The barn smells like hay and motor oil and chaos.

Amy’s got duct tape stuck to her jeans, and you’re elbow-deep in a wheelbarrow that’s seen better centuries. There’s a pile of wood, a wrench, and a prayer — that’s the whole repair strategy.

Rhett walks in and freezes. “What the hell are you two building? A bomb?” You don’t even look up. “Don’t need your judgment, Abbott.” Amy grins. “Uncle Rhett, this thing’s an engineering marvel.” “It’s a death trap.”

And then you laugh.

Oh, God, that laugh.

It bursts out of you, bright and crackling, like lightning through a summer field. And between every giggle, you manage to say his name — not like a warning, not like a call.

Just like it’s yours to say.

“Rhett,” you gasp, breathless, eyes lit up like fireflies. “You’re such a buzzkill.”

He should be mad. Should be scolding. But he can’t stop smiling.

Because there’s something in the way you say his name when you’re happy. Like it’s music. Like it’s always belonged to your mouth.

And Rhett thinks — yeah. I’d let her call me that a thousand times and still feel it hit like the first.

—

The Way You Hum When You’re Focused

It’s late.

The house is quiet. The kind of quiet that only comes when every door is locked, every dish is done, every light has been dimmed to a glow.

You’re in the kitchen, barefoot, slicing peaches.

Rhett watches from the table. He should be helping. Or sleeping. But instead, he’s got one elbow propped, coffee going cold, just… watching.

You’ve got that faraway look again. Like you’re thinking about something too soft to speak aloud.

And you’re humming.

That same damn tune. Off-key. No words. Just you, and the peaches, and the rhythm only you seem to hear.

And for a moment, he swears the house is breathing. Like you brought life into it — filled it with something sacred.

He doesn’t speak.

He just listens.

Because there are pieces of you that only come out in the stillness. And he wants to know every single one.

—

EXTRA

The Way You Don’t Know He’s Already Chosen You

You didn’t mean to stop.

But the sound of his voice freezes you halfway down the stairs.

You were just getting water. You weren’t even wearing shoes.

But now you’re pressed to the wall, eyes wide, heart thudding.

Because Rhett’s voice — low and tired and real — is carrying from the kitchen.

“She’s gonna be the death of me,” he says.

Cecilia doesn’t answer right away.

He laughs. But it’s not happy.

“She ain’t even tryin’, Ma. That’s what kills me.”

You don’t breathe.

“She hums when she slices peaches. Same tune. Every time. Don’t think she knows. But the house... it feels alive when she does it.”

He pauses.

“She says my name like she’s always known how. Not like she needs me. Just... like she wants me around.”

You press your fingers to your lips.

“I don’t think I knew what home felt like until she came in and started acting like it was already hers.”

The air shifts.

“She loves Amy. Stands up to Dad. Runs the kitchen better than I ever could. I keep waitin’ for it to feel like a phase. But it don’t.” Cecilia speaks then, quiet and clear. “So what’re you gonna do?”

And Rhett says it — soft, but steady.

“I’m gonna marry her.”

You don’t cry.

But your breath hitches, your chest twists, and your whole world shifts a little on its axis.

Because you didn’t know.

Not until now.

And tomorrow, when he looks at you like you’re the only thing that’s ever made sense —

You’ll finally understand why.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

WELCOME BACK!!!!

and ooooooo smort smort 🩵🩵

LMAOO in your defense she is always getting into something

2. ehehehehhehheheh ✨secrets✨ (it's literally revealed this chapter)

3. thank you that was one of my favorite lines

4. THERE YOU GO IT'S HER!!! LET THEM BE HAPPY

5. heheheheh✨secrets✨ (i forgot what your god headcanon was plz remind me)

6. OH YEAH hehehehe ✨secrets✨

7. THAT WAS A WHOLE SEVERAL MONTHS OF HER LIFE!! he's gonna catch hands

8. fr She can be a PROBLEM when she wants to be

9. there WOULD be rumors you're so right. Dean Winchester is obsessed with the girl that killed his dad - AND? he's LUCKY she didn't , she would've made it hurt more

10. ........ the NDA

11. she IS really nice I love Eileen let Sam winchester be happy i swear to god.

12. one thing about Gabriel: He's silly

13. To be fair "death as a motivator" would not be my first guess either. And Princess IS a little freak. She and Dean are made for each other.

14. She's a feral animal i fear.

15. funniest girl alive (somewhere in the states, Dean came in his pants)

16. 😔i know

17. ehehheheheheh✨secrets✨

18. she doesn't (yet)

19. LMAO i'm obsessed with the idea that, when left alone, she's LITERALLY just an animal. Dean is the only thing standing between her and thunderstorms cause she's crying. love that for them

20. And Dean thinks she doesn't love him🙄

21. the most dramatic woman alive.

22. ehehehehehehhe✨secrets✨

23. ✨SECRETS✨ (i hate citing the NDA but i have to im sorry)

24. always gotta have smooches

25. Just wait until she gets to the American Men of Letters library. She's never gonna leaves.

26. YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'RE SO RIGHT

27. She is. Girlboss of all time.

28. Catch the besties committing crimes together. She's a fugitive fr

29. thank you they try🩵🩵

30. hehehehhe good. You should. they're adorable.

31. thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu🩵🩵🩵

32. hehehheheheeh✨secrets✨ (and yeah she's so silly and obsessed with Dean that it can be real easy to forget that she can kill angels and feel the whole universe)

33. LMAO she would be you're so right

34. here we GO

35. of yeah. Whole on massacre i fear.

36. I mean. ✨secrets✨ (i'm cooking)

37. HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH (good)

38. you'll see :) (IM COOKING)

39. ...... try not to think about it

40. I know 🩵

41. She's a menace fr

42. Gotta have the dreamscape fluff!

43. he's RESPECTFUL (he wants to do ungodly things to her all the time)

44. Yeah that's a correct read.

45. Poor boy can't catch a break. She's always MISSING (he needs to put a tracker in her root beer or something)

46. i think he's earned it, putting up with their bs for so long

47. Bobby loves his crazy funny daughter and all her silly bullshit

48. 9.5 is one lower than the highest ever recorded :)

49. What's it gonna take for Dean to hit a girl (we'll see)

50. he's so obsessed it's not even funny anymore

51. Dean WON'T hit a girl (he'll hit Sam)

52. He's the most dramatic man alive. He was 100% ready to throw hands over the idea of being with anyone but Her

53. It's very important to him that people get it right. three times (more than anyone else, but he doesn't know that.)

54. Those are sorta my favorite scenes to write, seeing Her use the Silver from his perspective. So I'm glad you like them!!🩵🩵🩵

55. THEY DID IT!!!!!🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

56. heheheheheheheh

57. he just wants to make her feel comfortable :(

58. their so silly

59. isn't he always😔

60. they're so cute

61. ...... sorry (im not)

62. i mean. two things can be true

63. LMAOOOOOOOOO

64. thank youuuuuu Becky is lucky Princess was passed out when they met. Crimes WOULD have been committed. Eileen and Her already beating each other up like sisters. And bold of you to assume that Dean will LET her leave the bed for a whole day once he gets the chance.

65. thank youuuuuuu🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵!!!! see you there!

Chapter 22 - I'd Go Black And Blue

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: I always hate saying "this is my favorite chapter so far" in case y'all hate it, but there's one scene in particular there that's a top 5 Babylon scene for me personally. If you guys can guess it, I'll... idk you can chose a bonus chapter theme. Enjoy!!

Chapter Title from Make You Feel My Love by Bob Dylan

Word Count: 18.9k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You make another friend, and Dean makes another enemy. Usual Warnings.

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, angst, fluff, pining, action

Chapter 21 - Chapter 23

Read on A03!

Your head fucking hurts. A dull pain in the back of your skull, like you’d been hit with a club and knocked out. Everything is fuzzy, and there’s a high ringing in your ears, but you’re not tied up. 

The floor is cold under your body, and you can’t feel any wind. There’s no sense of danger, but there is something shuffling around near you. Nothing’s sliced or burned you, the only additional, foreign pain existing in the sting on the tip of your finger.

You need to open your eyes and figure out where you are. But every muscle feels like it’s been threaded with lead and iron, and your head fucking hurts, and you don’t even know how you got here.

All you can remember is a blur. 

The Blue, in the church.

An archangel. 

You’d called for Cas, and the Blue showed up instead. It had said you needed to get some sleep, but you don’t feel rested. Just a little fucking sick and dizzy, despite being frozen to the floor. 

And if he’d shown up after the Blue left, you wouldn’t have been there, which means you aren’t home, which means-

Dean.

Something like electricity jolts through your body. 

And when your eyes fly open—stinging from the sudden intrusion of light—you’re staring down the barrel of a fucking shotgun. 

“God- Fucking-“ You scramble back against the wall, and the shotgun only follows you. “What the-“

“Don’t scream.” A strangely accented voice comes from the other side, and you lean to the side just enough to see its owner.

It's a woman. Pale, a little on the shorter side, with long brown hair and narrowed eyes that are never leaving your face. She's holding the gun like it's a second limb, rather than a tool. Relaxed, keeping it trained against your brow with her shoulders relax. The same way Dean and Sam do. 

Like a hunter.

“Who-“

“Don’t speak.” The woman snaps, and you blink, but obey. 

The Silver is starting to wake up, bristling from threat of the gun, but you can get out of this exact scenario before with only your knife-

Fuck. 

Your jacket is gone. Which means your knife is gone. The knife Dean gave you is gone-

“My knife-“

“I said don’t speak.” Her voice is harsh, but the words are still oddly rounded. It’s really not your biggest concern.

You open your mouth—the Silver starting to build, because this woman made the smart choice not to tie you up, but she took your fucking knife—and she shakes her head, pressing the gun forward.

“I am going to lower the gun to hear you. If you move, I shoot you. Got it?”

You raise your brows, keeping your mouth closed, and the woman sighs.

“Just nod.”

You nod, and that seems to be enough. The gun lowers, and you and the women blink at each other. 

She’s teal. A dark, pretty teal that starts near her eyes and spreads like fire out. She’s definitely a hunter—only hunters wear that much plaid—and there’s no blood stains or visible scarring, so she’s either a very good one or an incredibly bad one. 

Your money is on the former, but it could go either way. The gun might look natural in her hands, but she also didn’t tie you up, and that’s a stupid move. She did take your knife—smarter move, you need to get back to Dean so you wouldn’t have pulled punches—but she’s still lowering the gun, which isn’t great survival instinct. She has no way of knowing that, if she makes one wrong move, the Silver will explode and rip that teal straight from her body.

But she said she’s lowering it to hear you. 

You don’t know what that means. 

“I’m sorry about the gun,” the woman shrugs, but still doesn’t put it away. “When I tried to tie your wrists, you seemed distressed. I think you were screaming.”

“You-“ Your eyes narrow, and the woman hasn’t looked away from you for a second. “You think I was screaming?”

“I’m deaf.”

Oh. That explains the accent. And you might have gotten that sooner if your head wasn’t on a loop of Dean, Dean, you said you’d get home to Dean

“You’re American.”

You blink at her, and nod slowly. “How’d you know?”

“You don’t seemed shocked by the shotgun.”

“Europe has shotguns.” You counter, and she shrugs.

“Not like this. This is for hunting.”

“You can hunt without a gun.”

The woman gives you a dry smile. “Not the things I hunt, no.”

“Monsters?”

She pauses. “You’re a hunter.”

“Yep.” You hum, and she frowns.

“You don’t look like you hunt.”

Huh. “Don’t I?”

“You weren’t armed.”

“I had a knife.” You sit up slightly, and the gun moves right back to your brow.

“I said don’t move-“

“I’m not moving.” You scan around the room—dark, a little damp, probably a basement, at least the Sky can’t see you—and glare back to the teal woman. “What the fuck did you do with my knife.”

“It’s back there.” She nods into the dark, and a light weight moves off your shoulders. Not gone. That one piece of Dean you always get to have, just back there. “So you are a hunter?”

You sigh. “It’s complicated.”

Her head tilts slightly. “How do you hunt without a gun?”

“Talent.” You mutter, and the Spiderweb is straining and whining in your body. “Believe me, I’ve gotten the lecture.”

The woman lowers her gun again, frowning at you. “The lecture?”

“My-“ Dean. No proper word to call Dean that doesn’t make you sound insane. “Friend. He doesn’t like that I hunt without a gun. He’s really dramatic about it.”

“You have hunter friends?”

“Yeah. I, they’re actually waiting for me-“

“In America?”

“That’s where I left them, yeah.”

“How were you planning to return?” She’s watching you wearily, and she might think you’re lying.

For once, you’re not. 

But you also don’t know her.

So you have to be careful what you say.

“Flight.”

“Without a passport?”

You shrug. “I’d work it out. Am I here to be questioned about my travel plans, or can I go?”

The woman shakes her head. “Not until you answer my questions.”

“All I’ve been doing is answering your questions-“

“Not the ones I want to ask.” She scans over you carefully, a small frown on her face. “Would you like some water? Or food?”

It’s only when she says it that you feel it. A little faint, your throat dry, and the room suddenly spinning like now that it’s been reminded of the situation, it’s realizing you’ve been knocked out for-

Fuck. 

You don’t actually know how long you were out for. You can still only remember the Blue telling you to get some sleep, and then it’s all dreams. You might have been out for days, but you also still hadn’t been eating or drinking before, so it just might be catch up with you. 

Everything still hurts. Everything always hurts. And the Silver is waxing and waning in your body, starting to coil before settling comfortably back down. It’s making you feel a little sick.

You’d try to just pray to Cas—to appear into the room and take you home right now—but the Blue said you were still interfering. An archangel had told you to stop interfering. And you want to. You don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of you. But you promised. You’d told Dean you would go home, and then you didn’t. You’d been knocked out, and taken here. 

You still don’t know where here is. 

Or how long Dean’s been waiting for you. 

“I have some-“

“What happened?” You blurt, and the woman blinks at you. 

“That was one of my questions for you.”

Shit.

“Do you want food?” The woman repeats her offer, and you swallow, but nod. 

You’re starving. And you’d promised Jo you’d be okay, so you need to eat.

“If I walk away, are you going to run?”

You pause, then shake your head. If you need to get out, the Silver will explode, or you’ll try that prayer to Cas. Right now, you need a few answers yourself. 

And food. 

Your head is spinning, and food sounds really good.

The woman seems to decide you’re not lying, and she moves into the darkness for only a second before returning with a water bottle and sandwich. You’d be worried about poison, but if she wanted to kill you, she’d just fucking shoot you. 

And she looks almost amused, as you chug the water bottle in seconds, turning your attention to the sandwich and all but shoving it in your face seconds later.

“You’re hungry.” She says, and you shrug, quickly chewing and swallowing before you answer.

“I was knocked out.”

“Only for three days.”

Three days.

That’s not bad. You can explain three days, when you get out. You just have to get out.

“Where did you find me?” You wipe at few crumbs from your face as you speak, and the woman—you should probably ask her name—gives you an odd look. 

“I am not sure. It looked like a church.”

Something twists in your stomach. “Looked? Past tense?”

She nods. “It was covered in vines and flower and water. Pretty. Not a church anymore.”

Fuck. “Oops.”

The woman frowns. “Did you do it?”

You don’t answer right away. You don’t know her. You don’t know who she works with—you doubt Ketch, but you’re in no position to lack vigilance—what she wants from you, or why she took you at all-

“The earth was grown around you.” She links her fingers together in a wide gesture, her shotgun resting at her side. “I had to rip it up to get to you.”

You lean back, narrowing your eyes. Nobody would just rip up the earth to get to you.

Dean might.

No one else.

“Why?” You ask, rubbing over your wrists. “Were you looking for me?”

“No. Was nearby. Felt the earth shake, went looking for the source. Found you.” Her hand moves back to the shotgun. You don’t let your face shift at all. “What are you?”

There it was.

That’s why you’re here. 

“It’s complicated.”

She shakes her head. “Try.”

“I…” You take a long, slow breath. “That’s not a good idea.” 

“Why not? I know you are something.” The gun’s back in her lap, and the Silver starts to go taut again. Readying itself to snap. “I thought you were a witch, when you reacted to the iron. But you didn’t have any books or tools-“

“I didn’t?” You blurt before you can stop yourself, and it’s not helping your case, but you don’t care. “What did I have?”

“Nothing.”

“No- Fuck.” The Silver is building, and all you can do is dig your nails into your palm to keep it down. 

Everything. Gone. All your books and notes, fucking vanished, and what was it for. You left Dean, and now all you have to show for it is an ache in your chest and bags under your eyes.

And the Blue has told you not to go home. You’re betting he thought this would deter you, and you’d spend a lot of time scrambling to get everything back, or being so afraid of how you’re changing things that you’d crawl back to wherever you were made. 

But he’s made a severe misjudgment about you. 

First of all, you have most of that shit memorized. You’re not a fucking idiot, and you’re a good hunter. Everything you need to know lives in your head. The Blue took it, but now all that’s telling you is that, no matter what you do, Heaven isn’t going to be happy with you. That they won’t be happy until you’re safely chained and locked up in their care, whether you’re at Dean’s side or not.

And you’re sick. You’re exhausted and in pain and so fucking sick. You’ve always been sick, and you’ve always infected and interfered and destroyed. 

But you’d rather be sick at Dean’s side—where he can hold you in the dead of night and you drown in the Gold of him all the time—then something docile and chained up without him. He won’t be safe anyway. Between what he’s told you and what the Blue mentioned in passing, Heaven’s got plans for him outside of the seals that have nothing to do with you. And Dean’s sat with you through everything you allowed him to. All your sickness and crying and trying to claw your way out of your own skin, only holding you tight until you could breathe, and letting you go because you asked. And you’ll crawl to him and hold him in Hell, if that’s what it takes for you to return the favor. 

Second, you’re really fucking good at causing problems for people that try to control you. For people that hold you and try to pin you there, wanting you mounted high up on their wall.

John Winchester’s dead.

You don’t do checkups on your family, but they’re down one chosen, special, vile little girl forever.

Ketch has a slump in his back, and Anna’s gone.

It doesn’t never works out in their favor. 

Finally, you always end up back at Dean. You run from everything, but when you have nowhere left to go, you always end up back at Dean. No matter how sick you are, you always end up back at Dean.

And it may be the worst fucking curse of your life, how you’ll never be able to tell Dean you love him, because the Sky will hear, and it might take him away. Because Dean will hear, and he doesn’t deserve that.

But he’d said he needs you. He waited for you, even when he shouldn’t have. You promised you’d stop running and then left, and you said all the way down and stayed away until he called you, and you looked back.

You always look back for Dean. You love him. And you’d do anything for him.

But the Blue took you away from him. Knocked you out and sent you- 

He’d said he’d send you someone good. 

Your eyes narrow on the woman. “You working with the angels?”

She stares at you. “The angels? What angels?”

“Heaven angels. God angels.” You’re still only met with a blank expression. “They’re hunting for me, you might have seen a blue-“ She won’t know its color. “A blond one. At the church.”

The woman mostly looks shocked. You can’t tell if that’s a positive or not. “Angels are hunting for you? Are you crazy?”

You let out a dry laugh. “Depends on how loose you’re playing with the term crazy.”

“Fucking-“ The woman shakes her head. “What about that note? I don’t think angels leave notes.”

You frown. “What note?”

She nods, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small, blue sticky note for you to see. Move Me! is written in glitter.

“Yeah,” You mutter, rubbing your thumb over your palm. “That’s an angel.”

“And you think they’re hunting you-“

“They are. It’s a long story, but I- I have to go.”

“No,” the shotgun is back. You don’t have time for this. “I am still asking questions-“

“Like what?” You challenge, raising your chin and moving to your knees. If she shoots you, she fucking shoots you. At least you’ll see Jo again. Maybe you’ll find out if the Sky actually cares enough to haul you back out. 

And if it doesn’t, you’ve walked in and out of Hell for Dean before. Given how the Silver is starting to roll like a storm through your body, you don’t think it will be that big an issue, to claw up through the earth and return to Dean’s side. The earth might even part for you like the ocean, if you ask it right. If you scream that you have to get back to Dean, and that nothing is going to get in your way. 

This lady isn’t working with the angels.

You still need her to get out of the way.

“Listen.” You keep your words slow, taking a firm step forward and swallowing bile as the gun aims for your head. 

Bobby would kill you. 

He can get in line.

“I am going to leave. I have a few things to do, but then I’m going back to America, because my- My family needs me. And you can try to shoot me, but historically, trying to kill me has never worked out in anyone’s favor.” 

The woman’s eyes widen. “I- I will shoot you.”

“Do it.” You snap. “I-“

She doesn’t shoot you. She raises the blunt end of the gun and slams it into your chest, and sends you stumbling back as she shoots to her feet, cocking the gun and reaiming it for your foot. 

This would be a great time for the Silver to snap. To burst through the room and rip the teal from the woman’s body, so you can shove it back in fast before fucking running. But she’s not grabbing at your wrists, she’s not a demon or angel, and the only threats she’s making are to you, and apparently, the Silver is over that. 

So you have to do this the old-fashioned way. 

You dodge the gunfire, but only barely. Springing to the side and slamming into the woman’s body, right as she whacks your shoulder with the barrel of the gun. You regain your balance a little faster, and it lets you dart in the corners of the room, grabbing through the dark for-

A hand wraps around your shoulder, and you turn with a swinging fist that collides with the woman’s jaw. Blood spits in your face as her knee hits you in the gut, and you are not in good shape for a fight. The pain rushes through you and somehow causes a throbbing in your head, the sandwich letting itself up too easy, and you vomit all over her face.

She recoils, wiping herself with a disgusted expression, and there’s your window. 

The jacket had been folded fairly neat on a wooden crate, and it seems all the Blue left you was your knife and flask.

You can work with that.

The click of a safety comes from behind you, and you duck just in time. The rebound of the shotgun is working in your favor. The woman is occupied just long enough for you to roll under the barrel and-

She fucking kicks you again. A groan escapes you at the blunt pain, but you don’t give her the opportunity to reaim, sweeping her legs out from under her and knocking the shotgun out of her hands as she falls at your side. 

Neither of you can get the upper hand. Your knife gets knocked across the floor seconds after the woman’s gun, and you might be a better hand-to-hand fighter overall, but your whole body is also made of pain. When you punch her it’s weaker, and when she knees you in the gut a little more bile spits out.

You don’t have the energy to go for as long as she can.

But you fight dirty.

This woman doesn’t seem to have a problem with the ethical questions of hunting—she was about to shoot you—but she also doesn’t seem to be on board with moves like biting and ripping hair.

And when you employ said tactics, she scrambles back as if you might be carrying rabies. 

“What is wrong with you?!” Her voice is almost a screech, and you shrug, wiping your mouth with your palm.

“Lot of things. Jury’s still out on most of them.” You slump against the wall, wincing at the pain that shoots through your shoulder. “You up for a truce?”

She narrows her eyes. “Are you going to try and run again?”

“Probably.” You shrug. You’re too tired to lie. “Are you going to try and kill me again?”

She shrugs right back. “Maybe.”  

“I think that’s a stalemate then.”

“Yeah.” The woman groans, glancing down at the bite mark on her arm. “Do you need any ice?”

“I’m good. Sorry about, uh- That.”

“It’s fine.” She gives you a small smile. “You did say people who try to kill you end up regretting it.”

That pulls a short laugh for your chest, and it hurts—she must have gotten a blow there too, somewhere in the fight—but you can’t bring yourself to hate it. Means you’re still alive. And that you can laugh, because unless you count phone calls with Dean—which even in the better moments, were always lined with tears—you haven’t laughed since you left. 

You end up spitting up a little bit of blood. 

You really fucking miss the Silver not just choosing when it came out. It’s amazing that Dean, Sam, and Bobby just exist with these bruises and cuts all the time. Dean’s voice in your head is humming slow breaths, but it’s barely helping. When you get home, you’re going to steal a whole Walgreens first-aid aisle.

But you need to get home first.

You look up at the woman, examining her own injuries, and wave for her attention. “What’s your name?”

“Eileen.” She tilts her head at you. “You?”

You answer her, running a hand up and down your calf, and you’re both just watching each other now. Your knife and Eileen’s shotgun still in the dark corners of the room, neither of you moving to try and grab them.

“What does your family need you for?” She asks, and you sigh.

“My dad’s injured, my brother fucked up and I’m worried about him, and my-“ No proper word. “Best friend asked me to come back.”

Eileen hums. “Did you leave?”

“Yeah.” A lump is forming back in your throat, and when your eyes flick down, your fingertips are frosted with pastel blue. “I- I lost my sister.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Eileen pauses, before adding. “My parents died. It’s not fun.”

You huff a soft laugh. “No, it’s really fucking not. Were they hunters?”

“No. My mother knew about it, though. Is your-“ She stops herself, shaking her head. “You already said they were hunters. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You mumble. “Long day. How’d your mom know?”

“Her dad was part of a fancy group of them.” 

Your head shoots up. “Fancy group? Was he British?”

“American immigrant to Ireland.” She stares at you. “Why?”

“I- How long have you been hunting?”

“My whole life.”

You nod slowly, frowning at the air. If she’s been hunting that long, in Europe, she must have an idea. Have a rumor. Just a fucking lead you can chase, to get what you need. 

“How long have-“

“A while.” You lean forward, ignoring the aching protest through your whole body. “You heard of an asshole named Ketch?”

Her eyes narrow, her lips curling slightly into a sneer, and that’s a yes. “Arthur?”

You nod, and she scoffs.

“He’s a dick. Won’t work with me because I’m deaf, always whining about hunter pigs getting in the way.” 

You grin. He is a dick. “Is he part of the big fancy group?”

“Sort of.” Eileen’s words are cautious, but she’s still not making a move to restart the fight. “Different branch, I think. They don’t like me enough to tell me technical things.”

“What do they like you enough to tell you?”

“Not much.” She gives you an odd look, her words still slow. “Why?”

“He stole my book. And tried to kidnap me like, twenty times.”

“Ah.” Eileen smiles slightly. “How did it work out for him?”

You snort. “Bad.”

That gets a laugh from Eileen, and it’s a little spluttered like yours, but it’s nice. Full and real and a little loud, echoing around the basement for several moments, and your own smile grows. 

You haven’t talked to someone that’s not either trying to kill you—or the frustrating, insufferable, awesome love of your life over the phone—for so long.

It’s another thing that’s nice. And Eileen had just beat you up, but you both seem to be done with that. If you’re careful, you might even have an ally. She seems to hate Ketch. That alone is a hallmark of a good person. You just need to see if she’s committed to this not letting you leave thing.

“How are we feeling about the truce?” You ask carefully, and Eileen only shrugs.

“Are you going to tell me what you are?”

You pause. It’s not good to tell a lot of people. You’re not sure why, but the more people know about you in general, the worse things get. Openly sharing the fact that you’re a Magdalene, when that’s something even Heaven considers better as not known, seems unwise.

But you’re really tired. And you really want to go home. 

Getting home means getting the Book and—ideally—the Blade back. The Silver has always responded to the Blade, so maybe that can kickstart it, and get you back to being dangerous, but useful. And the Book is in Enochian, and full of weird shit. There will have to be something useful to the whole apocalypse situation. And if not, nobody had died when you’d had the Book and the Blade.

That alone can be a false comfort. 

You mostly just don’t want to be useless. Don’t want to return as just a sickness that Dean seems to be fine catching.

It’s better not to think about that. About how maybe you are infecting and hurting him, but he’s a fucking adorable idiot, so he just doesn’t care. You don’t know why he wouldn’t care.

He should care.

He shouldn’t be asking you to come home, because now you have no choice, and he really doesn’t understand exactly how much you love him. How willing you are to be sick if it’s what keeps him alive. 

It hadn’t kept Jo alive. But fighting it hadn’t kept Dean alive before.

You won’t fail a third time.

You won’t.

So you need the Book and the Blade.

Eileen might be able to help with that. And you may not be able to tell her what you are, but you can also tell half-truths. It’s better than lies. Better than full truths. 

The last person you told full truths was Jo. 

You feel fucking sick again. Bile rises in your throat, bitter on the back of your tongue and making you choke on the air. The Silver isn’t rising, but it is shifting, and you’ve started to claw the skin of your arms. 

Eileen says your name slowly, and you dig your nails in, forcing yourself to come back down. “Are you-“

“I’m fine.” You mutter. “I- I’ll tell you what I am if,” you narrow your eyes. “You help me. To find what I’m looking for.”

Eileen only holds your gaze. “What are you looking for?”

“You know that book I mentioned?” You wait for her nod, then continue. “I want it back.”

“Your book?”

“Yeah. And my knife.”

Her gaze flicks to the floor. “Your-“

“Different knife.” You mutter. “This one’s a gift. The other one is… weird.”

“Huh.” Eileen raised her brows. “Weirder than you?”

You snort. “Same amount of weird, actually. You in?”

Eileen’s scanning over you, and if she says no, you’re going to be stuck in a loop of fighting and resting until she kills you, or your escape. And she has a lot of reasons to say no. You do sound insane, she found you with the earth growing around you and a sticky note from an—alleged—angel, and you’re not winning any awards for worth helping after fucking biting her-

“You are sure Ketch took your shit?”

You nod. “Him or Davis.”

Eileen blinks. “Mick?”

“Sure.”

“If it is Mick, I know where your stuff might be.” She gives you a weary look. “But you can’t be mad at me if it’s not there. And you have to tell me what you are.” 

It’s not a bad deal.

That doesn’t stop you from pushing it, just a bit.

“Why do you care what I am?”

It earns you a flat look. “I pulled you from the earth and you talk about angels.”

“I could just be crazy, you know.”

“Maybe.” She shrugs. “I’ll judge that when you tell me.”

She’s not backing down.

You won’t either.

“Alright, then.”

Eileen grins at you. “Alright.”

There’s a second where you’re both staring at each other, and then you’re moving at the same time. Eileen grabs her shotgun and kicks your knife across the floor, and you shrug on your jacket with a grimace at her vomit-stained clothing.

“Do you- We can stop so you can shower-“

She waves you off. “I’ve been covered in worse. I’ll change, shower later.”

You nod thoughtlessly, feeling through your pockets one last time to check that the Blue really did take your phone. You need to call someone, just to tell them you’re alive and still trying to get home. And after how your last prayer went, you’re not jumping to make another one soon. 

But your phone is gone. And when you ask Eileen to borrow hers, Bobby’s number goes straight to voicemail, and you’re a fucking idiot who never memorized anyone else’s. Not even Dean’s. 

You’ll apologize when you get home. For vanishing like that, giving him another reason to worry when he’s already got so many. You’ll fall in front of him and wrap your arms around his legs, giving him even more weight and apologizing for it every second, until he picks you up and moves you to the bed. Not to rest. 

You’ll rest when you know he understands. When he gets that—at the end of it—you’re always just his. That as long as you have hands that refuse to hurt him, you’ll drag yourself though mud and dirt to return to his side. To crawl into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck as you prove to him that you’ll never leave.

As you show him with a hand between your bodies, or your mouth kissing down his chest. Letting him guide you like he’d promised—or at least you’ve twisted his words into promising, just in your head where it can’t hurt anyone but you—and he understands-

“How old is your brother?”

You turn and blink at Eileen. The ride has been wholly silent save for the radio—she can’t hear you if she’s not looking at you—and you’d settled too quickly into fantasy.

“I thought we’d stop and eat.” She says, and the engine has indeed turned off.

You need to get it together. “I- That would be nice.” You mumble, rubbing your thumb over your palm. “I’m hungry.”

“I know. You threw up your lunch all over me.” She reaches into the back of her car, and pulls out a Tupperware. “BLT or PBJ?”

“PBJ,” You hum, grimacing to yourself as Eileen passes you the food. “I don’t like bacon.”

“You can take the bacon out.”

“I do.” You smile to yourself, a very wide, charming smile flashing over your vision. “I usually just sneak it onto my- De- My friend’s plate. He loves bacon.”

Eileen gives you a vague look, swallowing before she speaks. “The friend who wants you to come home?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you not tell him you hate bacon?”

You shrug. “Probably could, but he’d get really dramatic about it.” How do you not like bacon, Princess?! It’s- It’s bacon! “Plus he gets really excited when he has more bacon than he thought. It’s cute.”

“Cute?” She raises her brows. “Are you- Are there feelings?”

Fucking- 

You must have a big, blaring sign on your forehead that says I love Dean Winchester.

Sure, Jo knows because she knows you, and Sam knows because he basically is your brother, just as Bobby is your dad, but they all have spent time around you. Listened to you talk about Dean, seen you turn back for him and flush at his voice and name, clinging to him like the sorry little girl he still can’t figure out you are. The one that’s going to be tosses aside and forgotten, when he finds better-

Not the time for that. You’ll have plenty of time to try and mark Dean somewhere visible so everyone knows that no matter what they do, you’ll always love him, and that should terrify them.

Right now, you need to work out how Eileen figured out that you love him from basically fucking nothing.

And you’re not saying anything. It’s not helping your case. 

“I-“ You clear your throat. “It’s complicated.”

Eileen nods, and drops it just like that. “How about your brother?”

“My- What brother?”

Her eyes narrow. “You said you had a brother. Who fucked up.”

“Oh. Sam.” You shake your head, giving her an apologetic, close-lipped smile. “Sorry. Forgot I called him that.”

“Is he not your brother?”

“No- Ye- Sorta.”

Eileen tilts her head. “Family?”

“Yeah. He is. And he’s twenty-five.”

“Younger?”

You hum a conformation, taking a large bite of your sandwich, and Eileen’s remains neglected in her Tupperware. 

“Do you have a big family?” You give her an odd look, and she sighs. “I grew up without one. A family. I’m… curious.”

“Well I- I sort of grew up without a family too.” You frown into the air, the bread of the sandwich smushing between your fingers. “I- I had my dad. And my uncle. But I only met the rest of them when I was an adult.” You shrug, looking fully back to Eileen. “What happened to your family? Parents die when you were young?”

“I was an infant. Killed by a banshee. I’ve been hunting it since, but-“

“Have you tried throwing a funeral?” You cut her off before you can stop yourself, and she frowns. “Shit, sorry, just- Banshee hunts go really well if you’re throwing funerals. All the emotion, it’s like a- uh-“ You sigh. “I can’t think of anything. But they’re good.”

Eileen nods slowly, giving you a tentative, small smile. “It’s okay. I haven’t tried that, but I also don’t know how to throw a funeral.”

“You can use my body, if this goes south and you have to kill me.”

Her smile grows. “I will.”

You tell Eileen a little more about your family, while she eats. About how Bobby thinks you don’t know about how he uses shea butter lotion, but you shared a desktop before you bought—stole—a laptop, and you’ve seen his shopping history. She hears about Dean less than most people—you’re trying to make up for the slip, but based on her amused expression as you talk about how you think he genuinely believes his car has a soul, it’s not working—but Sam plenty, with all his books but no fucking clue how to work a self-checkout machine.

You know that because you’d been standing right next to him, staring at it for three straight minutes until Dean gotten back and explained how.

Explained to you how. He’d guided you up with a hand on your lower back, and scanned two items before letting you scan the rest. Sam had craned over your shoulder, and spent the rest of the drive back to the motel grumbling about favoritism. 

It had helped, though. When you’d chosen to sit with him and read instead of watching TV with Dean. 

And Eileen listens, nodding along so you know she understands. You get to hear much about the hunter who raised her—it sounds like with less vigilance than John, but more urgency to join hunting than Bobby—and she mentions that she likes muscles cars too, as well as big, long books, because they give her a reason to ignore people waving for her attention. 

When the ride starts again, there’s a little less wired air than before. You don’t feel better—you’re not sure you remember what better even could mean right now, when it’s not home—but Eileen’s not going to shoot you, and you’re not going to try and ditch her to do this alone. You could.

Right now—with pale blue stuck on your fingers and the Spiderweb howling for Dean so loud you have to ignore it, or you’ll go insane—you don’t want to.

The radio is low and soft, all the roading winding with the same scene of grass and trees and grass and trees, to the point that you’d think you were driving in circles if you didn’t know better. And the Sky isn’t flaring, over and over and over above you, but if you close your eyes you won’t be able to see it. And when you do—with the music and wind and hum of the engine—it’s bordering on peaceful, and if Eileen’s not going to kill you, there’s nothing to help you fight the sleep as it-

You’ve never been here before. 

It looks like a camp. A military camp. All the buildings are low, and they don’t look to be all that well put together. Wooden doors and low, rotting foundations, the pavement below your feet cracked and the grass overgrown. There’s a strong, golden haze cast over everything—lit from the sun, suspended right above the horizon and never moving—and people who mill about like ghosts. Their bodies tensed and eyes heavy. 

You don’t bother to try and talk to them.

You’re looking for Dean. 

This is the type of dream you would have about him. The type of dream you’ve always had, that has only grown sharper over the years. Where everything is golden, and your mind is making up any excuse for him to be near you. This scenario seems to be an apocalypse. 

If you believed in interpreting dreams, you’d think that your mind was trying to tell you something about how you feel like the world is ending because you’re not home.

The more likely case is that you’re simply stressed about the apocalypse.

And Dean. You can’t find him. You poke your head into buildings and down alleys, and there’s a very strange Cas that stares right through you, and a small, bearded man who’s eyes feel like they’re following you–even though you know better—but no-

There he is. 

The whole world feels like it’s glowing. He’s sprinting up towards you with a wild expression, and it’s not real, but that doesn’t stop the small sound from leaving your throat. 

He always looks so real. And when he crashes into you, his hands find you the same way Real Dean’s would. Grabbing your face between his hands and quickly scanning over you for injury, pressing you right up to his chest like there’s ever a chance you’d try to run away. 

And this is the part that makes you certain it’s a dream.

Dean kisses you like he’s about to die. Like you’re about to die. Like more than the universe will crumble if he doesn’t kiss you, and hook his arm around your waist to pull you just a little bit closer. And you can’t feel it—not really, when it’s all in your head—but you can still melt into him. Curl your fingers on his shirt and open your mouth for Dean to take more.

It would be nice if he could take all of you. Pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, then take you out of the dream into the real world. And you’d wake up with the Real Dean asleep at your side, his arm thrown over your waist in his sleep. 

You could pretend like you never left. You could pretend you’re allowed to take things from him, and climb over him, waking him up with soft kisses over his face and a smile when he blinks up at you. 

For now you’ll settle for this. For this Dean hauling you fully up into his arms with barely a grunt, and burying his face in the crook of your neck when you pull apart.

The whole world smells like a phantom of cinnamon. 

If you die, right here in your own mind, there would certainly be worse ways to go.

“You’re okay.” Dean mutters against your skin, a hand combing through your hair, and it sounds more like he’s trying to convince yourself. “Son of a bitch, Princess, I kept saying shit about you missing, and you are, and- Fuck-“

You lean back, just enough to see Dean’s eyes a little glossy. You don’t know how he deals with you crying all the time.

Just the sight is making you feel like your heart is being crushed into millions of pieces that you can’t figure out how to offer him, to patch up the pain. 

Instead you just wrapped your arms fully around his neck, drop your face onto his shoulder, and stay wherever he wants to move you. 

“I miss you.” He mutters. “Miss you so freakin’ much. Everything’s a mess, and Cas said he couldn’t find you, the angels are fucking douchebags, and I- I need you here, baby. Can’t do this if you’re not here.”

Baby. 

You know I love you, baby.

You swallow, turning your head to press a light kiss to his neck. You’ve always wanted to do that. 

He makes a small sound, and that’s going to haunt you louder than ‘baby’ is.

“I miss you too.” You whisper, and Dean sighs.

“You wouldn’t happened to know where you are, sweetheart?”

“Nope.” 

“Shit. Worth a shot. Stranger things.”

You hum, propping your chin up to scan around the ruined camp around you. “Do you know where we are?”

“Uh-“ He sighs, holding you a little tighter. “Just a nightmare, about the end."

"The-"

"End of the world. If Lucifer wins."

“Oh.” Your fingers are digging into his skin. It’s a good thing he can’t feel it. “That… fucking sucks.”

Dean lets out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, it does. Whole thing really fucking sucks. Lose Sam and Bobby, Cas' fine, but human, and you- you're-“

He cuts himself off, and you lean back to scan over him with a frown. “De-“

You let out a soft yelp as you're crushed back against his body, his grip tight enough to suffocate you, like he's trying to mold himself to you until it's impossible to tear you away.

It's already impossible for someone to tear you away. Even when Dean's not with you, he's there. Removing him would be like trying to take your shadow. Just simply fucking impossible. 

"It's fine, now." Dean presses his face into the side of your head, his breathing is deep, as if he's trying to inhale you. "You're here."

You flush. It's fine. Dean's fine.

Right now, it's all fine, because you're here.

"I- I miss you, De. A lot."

"I know, Princess. I-"

"You don't." You shake your head, grabbing his face between your hands and running over every deep line and small scar. It's all still Golden. And in here, it's yours. "You- I miss you so much. I want to come home, and I miss you, and I- I said all the way down but I don't want to go there if it's not with you- and-"

Dean mutters your name, tracing his thumb down the bridge of your nose until you're leaning into his touch, your voice evening out once more.

"I wanna come home." Your voice is almost a childish whine, and Dean's lips twitch slightly.

"I do know, baby. I promise I- I'd give goddamn anything just to know where you are." He sighs, his thumb dropping down to trace over your lips, and you think you'd be happy melting into the depth of him and never bothering to climb back out.

"Dean- I-"

"I know." He mutters, pressing his thumb on your lower lip, and you can only sit in him and pray to absolutely nothing that this, somehow, could become real. Tangible. 

Permanent.

He’s kissing you again. Slower, carefully, as if you might shatter or dissipate if he’s not careful.

You really wish you could feel it. 

And then the Sky starts to split open, and it’s all gone.

Someone’s saying your name, and it’s not Dean. 

You’re still not home. Not in a bed, but in a seat, that’s made of leather and sticking your skin, just like the glass near your face. You’d be bothered by it, but there’s still too much of your mind trying to grab the idea of Dean kissing you, being happy you’re there, missing you half as much as you miss him, and you don’t want to move.

The voice is close to your ear now. Round and oddly accented- 

Eileen.

“We’re at the place.” She’s saying, and you appreciate that she’s not trying to jostle you awake. That could have ended poorly for everyone. “If you want to get home, you should probably get up.”

That’s the right thing to say. Your eyes shoot open, and you push yourself off where you’d slump on the door.

“You fell asleep fast.” Eileen offers as you rub your face, watching you with the same amusement from before. “Seemed like you could use it. But we’re here.”

“Where’s-“

“They have a big, important, secret library.” She nods out the window, and you follow the direction to see-

It’s not a castle. You’ve never seen a castle, but you’re pretty sure that’s too small to be a castle. But it’s got all the fancy architecture and surrounding gardens and a fucking iron fence to keep people out—that’s going to be annoying—and the scream of I think I’m more important than you are all over it.

“Secret.” You repeat, your tone dry, and Eileen shrugs.

“They think it is. It’s where they keep artifacts they gather on their travels.” 

“You mean steal, don’t you.” 

She nods, and you let out a heavy sigh, dropping your voice under your breath.

“Fucking- It’s not fun when it’s real.”

“Wha-“

“Movie I like that’s not great with morals. Don’t worry about it.” You reach into your jacket, shifting around the flask and pulling out your knife. “Is it warded?”

“Against what?”

“Uh…” You. “Witches?”

“I think so.” She says, watching you as you take a few, long breaths, trying to test where the Silver is in your body.

It’s not set to explode, but it’s also not entirely down. There’s a slight edge to it, that’s bumping up against the Spiderweb and making it ripple and throw light all over your body.

Something might be off with this. Something will go wrong, even if Eileen doesn’t intended it to.

You’ll get through it.

You have to. 

“Are you a witch?”

You sigh, and shake your head. “Sort of. I’m made of the things witches use.”

You won’t tell her the name. If you tell her the name, she might look into it more, and the Sky is beating above you. It won’t like that.

Half-truths. 

Only the pastel blue on your fingers—running with you wherever you go and never trying to do anything will help—will know full truths. Jo might be the only non-angel or demon who understands just what you could do, with the Silver. She’s the only one who knows you’re a virgin, too. Who knows just how much you love Dean.

She’s the only one who really knows you love Dean. You all but broke that last rule and told her. 

And she’s the only one who will ever know. 

Because she’s the only one who gets the whole truth, forever, all the time. 

But she made you promise you’d be okay. And okay means talking to people that aren’t the sky, demons and archangels come to taunt you, and Dean. 

So you tell Eileen the half-truth, and it doesn’t itch on your tongue. She doesn’t react too much, either. You think she knows it’s not everything, but just like about Dean, she doesn’t push it.

“Do you want help in there?”

You pause, the Silver rolling once more, and shake your head. “I’m good. Thanks, though.”

“No problem. I’ll try that funeral thing, too. Might work.”

“Will work.” You correct, spinning your knife in your hands. “Trust me.”

Eileen gives you another amused look. “Alright, crazy. Heist safe.”

“I will.” You offer her a smile in return, and it’s not full, but it’s not strained either. “If you’re ever in the states, call my dad. His number should be in your phone. Say you’re looking for Sam, then tell him you’re looking for me. He’ll pass it on.”

Bobby and Dean wouldn’t. They’d snap that they’ve never heard that name in their life, then hang up the phone. 

Sam will. 

Eileen nods, and neither of you are all that interested in long goodbyes. She seems like a practical person, and you’re really fucking sick of goodbyes all together. Given your luck and odd habit of meeting people then never being able to avoid them, you’ll see her again.

And now, you have a job to do. 

The Silver is starting to build. You hop the fence—biting on the inside of your cheek as blister form on your skin from the iron—and get into the library without a hitch, but the Silver still builds. Nothing is happening as you wander down the hallways, but the Silver just keeps building.

Maybe it’s because this is too easy. Because you’re just walking inside, and there’s nothing and no one stopping you. 

There should be someone stopping you. Ketch and his people don’t seem like the lax security types, and Davis was better, but he did seem to love his lore.

You’d think there’d a least be a guard, but there’s no one.

Not even a librarian. 

And the blur kicks in.

If you were smarter, you’d turn around and run. Damn it and pray to Cas now, them get the fuck out of here. The Silver is already winding too tight, and you might tear through more than the building when it snaps.

But you’ve come this far. And you’re not smarter.

It doesn’t help that you know they’re here. The Blade and the Book. They’re calling you forward, reminding you that they’re made for you. Made for the Magdalene to have, as a gift. Promised to you, just as you’re promised to Him. Take them, because they’re yours. 

The Silver is glowing. Starting to fall out of you without destruction—until you’re the wisdom of all the books on the shelves and the grief of the spaces between the Sun and the earth, and very, very far away, something perfect and Golden and your more than anything else—all while continuing to wind up inside of you. It feels a little like being a galaxy, consumed in the black hole but still everywhere. Still everything.

You still can’t figure out what’s wrong. There’s not a bloodstain on the floor or a dent on the wall, no alarms or cries for help making it through the blur.

Only the Book and the Blade, calling you forward.

And it’s in a glass case, when you stumble into the room. 

Just the Blade. 

They might be separated, and you’re not stupid enough to leave the Blade until you find the Book. You only pause to read the small placard they’ve added, noting that it’s a witch-blade that causes insanity, marked with Latin, Hebrew, Arabic, and Enochian. 

They know about Enochian. 

That’s going to have to be a problem for later.

Right now you’re scanning over the rest of the placard, lingering on how most of the Blade has been translated, save for one word, that they’ve reprinted on the metal.

Magdalene. 

They think it means either whore or bride, which is a fascinating dual stance to have. 

Not the time. 

You glance around, and rip a curtain down from the wall to wrap around your knuckles, and—before you can think twice—slam your knuckles into the glass.

Nothing slices your hand open. No one screams at you for destruction of property. 

Something is really fucking wrong, and you need to move.

But it happens in a flash. 

You grab the Blade—it still fits perfectly in your hand, it still belongs to you—and just like the first time, you’re lost.

It’s quicker this time. The moment where you’re everything from the hope of the soil, buried under the too fancy building to the blinding fury of the loneliest stars, wishing for something to orbit around them.

And then you crash back down, and you feel it. 

Shadows, creeping towards you before curling away. 

Fuck.

“Finally.” A voice sighs from behind you, and your grip on the Blade tightens. “I’ve been waiting forever. Almost thought I missed you, but nope.” It laughs, and your skin crawls. “That’s a fun little trick you’ve got there. Well, fun for me. For you I’d bet it’s a bit of a problem.”

You turn, and there he is.

The Red. Slammed and violent inside his vessel of some poor asshole that’s already gone.  

Grinning at you like you’re all he’s ever wanted to see. 

“I knew you’d come for that.” He nods to the Blade in your hand. “Even took care of the whole building for you. And don’t make that face.” He rolls his eyes, dismissing you with a hand. “There were like, only forty people in here. And most of them were boring, and mundane, and really? Kind of stupid. Seven of the men were rapists! So you’re welcome.”

You swallow, and still don’t speak. Just like with the Blue, the Silver is being frustratingly uncooperative. Growing up before shrinking down again, like it can’t decide if it should attack the Red.

The Red is vile, but it’s not here to hurt you. The Silver doesn’t seem to believe it’s here to hurt you. Which is fucking insane, because this is-

“Do I need to introduce myself? That song says I do. But you,” it frowns at you, tilting its head. “You should know. Do you know?”

You nod, dragging your voice from your chest. “Lucifer.”

“There we go!” He claps his hands together, his grin growing. “I’d offer you a prize, but y’know. For you, it would be pointless.”

You don’t know. Before you can ask, he’s moving on.

“Here’s the deal, doll. Can I call you doll?”

“N-“

“Well I’m going to. It’ll grow on you, trust me.”

“I-“

“Shh.” Lucifer hold a thousand fingers up to his lips, shaking his head. “You don’t get to tell me what to do yet. And I’ve had no one to talk to for so long. Listen, or I track down that new friend of yours and stab her just like the Angel stabbed that sweet girl that followed you like a fucking puppy. Got it?”

The Silver still doesn’t react. All you can do is nod, and swallow your vomit when Lucifer grins.

“Okay. Like I was trying to say, here’s the deal. You and me?” He gestures between your bodies, raising his brows. “We should be friends. And I know, being friends with Satan, spooky. But if you help me, I help you.”

You open your mouth, and he shakes his head.

“No, I know what you’re thinking. How could I help you. Well, doll.” His mouth pulls into a wide, horrible grin, and he has teeth. Sticking out of him and his wings like horns, tinted with red like he’d been eating himself.

It’s fucking disgusting. And he just keeps talking.

“All I’d ask for you to help me get little Sammy Winchester to say yes to me playing puppet with him, and that’s it.”

“I-“ You blink at him. “What?”

Lucifer sighs. “There’s a whole game being played here, doll, you don’t have to understand it. What’s important is that you know I will not hurt you. Michael’s a little pussy, if he wins he’s going to lock you up to keep you safe. All wrapped up and ready, a perfect, sweet present. But I’ll let you roam however you want! I’ll free you from all the stupid fucking plans! You can stay with me, just to fuck with him, or I- I’ll even make you a deal! That’s a classic, right? Deal with the Devil? That’s what killed Dean, too, it’s artful-“

The Silver flashes. Quick, spurred by the Spiderweb, whipping out until glass shatters, and Lucifer cuts himself off with an amused look.

“Alright. Touchy about Dean, got it. Hey,” he grins at you again. “Good thing that’s the deal, right? Heaven wins with Dean, he’s gone. And Mikey is way too much of Daddy’s boy to try and touch you. If I win,” he spreads his arms in a wide gesture, grin widening. “I’ll let you keep Dean around, as a pet! All you have to do is get Sam to say yes-“

“Sam won’t listen to me.” You whisper, because it’s all you can fucking think to say, but Lucifer just shakes his head. 

“Wrong. Oh, that’s- It’s actually kind of sad, how wrong you are-“

“I’m-“

“I’m sure Gabe told you, but Sammy adores you. You made him hold on so long.” Lucifer pouts at you, and the Silver rushes through you, right under the surface, making no effort to break out. “I mean, if Heaven hadn’t been such dicks, and you’d toughed it out, Sammy might have stopped drinking demon blood all together. You made him like Ruby less. Want to be around Dean more.” Lucifer laughs, and every time is worse than the last. “You know, out of everyone, you shook him the most. He didn’t want to disappoint you, maybe even more than his strong big brother. You chose to stick with them. You never treated him like less because of what he was, and he’s only ever seen the best things in you. How happy you make Dean, how you’ll talk to him about anything, how you always saw right through John’s lies and big man shit. If you said it was a good idea, he’d do it. Dean trained him well. You’re never wrong.”

But you’re always wrong. You so fucking wrong, all the time.

You’re not sure you’re breathing, and if you aren’t, you’re only being kept awake by the Silver. 

You need to go home.

“I-“

“No!” Lucifer cuts you off with a tsk. “Don’t answer now! Take some time and think about it, because you and me together? We could do great work. But if I were you, I’d make a choice fast. Before it’s too late for the Dean part of our deal to go through.”

“The-“ You’re choking on the Silver. It’s trying to burst out of your throat, or your fingers, or your back. You can’t even really tell. “What do you-“

“Nothing.” Lucifer shrugs, taking a step back, his expression on your unreadable. Tense. “But I can’t control all my demons. Just like Heaven couldn’t control all their angels, and Dean? He’s prime hunting meet right now-“

That’s it. 

That’s what the Silver explodes for.

And just before it does, you realize what the expression on Lucifer’s face is. 

Fear. 

Real, pure fear.

But then he’s gone, and the Silver doesn’t care. It just wants something to hurt. Something to change. 

And it’s not coming back down. Not fully. So you still can’t really think. Whatever you’ve turned the library into, whatever awful beauty you’ve created, you can’t really see it, either. It’s all just fucking Silver.

You have to run. 

Home.

To Dean.

——————

“I’m not goin’ crazy! There’s some weird fuckin’ shit happening here, Rufus!”

Dean frowned, Bobby’s voice echoing up the stairs of the house. The paint on the walls was different—a darker color, a little more chipped—and the carpet was brand-new. 

He remembered when Bobby got that new carpet. Dad had dropped them off, Sammy had liked how soft it was, and Dad had mocked Bobby for his new girly obsession with interior design. Bobby had waved it off then, and only scowled when Dean asked if he had a new girlfriend, because Dad said men only did stuff like that for their girlfriends.

Now, Dean could know he’d been an idiot. Dad probably never would’ve done stuff like that for a girlfriend, Sammy had been right—the carpet was soft—and Bobby had done it for Her. Because someone would have to be insane to not try to make everything as nice as possible, for Her.

Even in a dream, Dean couldn’t stop missing Her. And Dean would bet a lot this was a dream, because Bobby wasn’t in any position to buy a new carpet right now, out in the waking world. 

Son of a bitch, She was going to be pissed about that. 

“Bobby, you’re sayin’ the plate exploded-“

“Yeah, I am!” Bobby sounded like he was arguing with someone. It was probably Rufus. “I’m sayin’ I didn’t sleep, got pissed she didn’t do the dishes-“

“Got pissed-“

“Yelled, Rufus. I fuckin’ yelled, and I know that wasn’t right, so save it. Went to walk it off and get her somethin’ to apologize, but when I got back the dishes were broken.”

There was a loud sigh, and Dean started slowly down the hall. Whatever fight was happening, he kind of wanted to see it.

“Don’t gimme that face, asshole-“

“You’re bein’ paranoid, Bob. Maybe she just smashed the dishes-“

“No. You ain’t listenin’. She broke all of them. Even the ones in the cabinets she can’t reach. It was like they’d just burst on freakin’ the spot.”

Dean turned to the top of stairs, and froze.

There She was. 

It was a smaller version of Her, with hair in complex braids and little fingers, grabbing at the bannisters of the staircase. She was wearing a dress, and fuzzy socks, and Dean was pretty sure that if Dad had dropped them here all those years ago and She hadn’t hidden, he still would’ve crashed down into Her. Still would’ve worshipped the ground She walked on. He might have gone insane about it, trailing after Her like the shadow he was. Back when he couldn’t even properly shoot or fight yet, and she could probably still have made the tides bend to Her will. 

Then She turned and looked at him, and whatever fight Bobby and Rufus were having wasn’t important anymore.

It was all just Her.

It was always just Her.

She waved him over, and Dean obeyed without a thought. Scrambling down the steps until he was pressed right at Her side, crowding all Her space because in here, he was allowed to. He didn’t have to worry about failing Her or pushing Her away. He could just wrap his arms around Her and kiss all over her neck, before resting his chin on the top of Her head. He was punishing no one but himself, with how She giggled in his ear and held his arms against Her. 

And God, it was the best torture there could ever be. It made Dean feel like he was being ripped in half and fused back together all at once. Made him feel useful, when She leaned back into him with a hum, then like the lowest piece of shit in the mud when it hit him again that this wasn’t real, and he was making Her something she might not want to be. 

Sammy called it lucid dreaming. 

“What’s lucid mean,” he murmured Her name in her ear, She twisted to smile at him, and he might as well have been hit by a damn truck.

“In full control of your own actions or thoughts.” She said, still peering through the banister at what was probably the kitchen. “Like when you sign a will, you have to be lucid.”

Dean nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on Her in his arms. He was a little worried that if he let go of Her, and all the light in Her body, She’d turn into nothing, and Dean would wake up in the dark. Alone.

So he held on tight, and buried his face in the crook of Her neck. Even in his dreams he could smell that fucking fruit. It was becoming a little like an anesthetic.

“What happenin’ out there?”

She hummed, a hand moving up to comb through Dean’s hair as She spoke, and he held Her a little tighter. “This is when Bobby started to figure out I wasn’t just a little crazy. He’s going to fight with Rufus for ten more minutes, then I’m going to have an episode because I think he’s going to kick me out.”

Dean froze. “He doesn’t-“

“No. Never.” She sighed, leaning Her head against his. “He calms me down, makes me hot chocolate, and tells me that we’re going to figure it out. Tomorrow he’s going to take me to a Psychic friend of Rufus’, and I’m going to- Uh-“ She swallowed, Her grip on Dean tightening as Her voice dropped to a whisper. “She loses all her senses. Literally. I think she lives in a facility in Chicago now, because she can’t hear, or smell, or feel anything but pressure-“

“Hey.” Dean let his lips ghost over her neck, and she let out a soft, breathy sound that was going to make his hard rule of ‘no sex in dreams, because She was still his best friend, and he had to respect that’ real fucking difficult to follow. “I get it. Don’t hurt yourself.”

She laughed softy. “Don’t tell me what to do, Winchester.”

“Sorry, Princess.” He leaned back, pressing a kiss to Her cheek and trying not to feel too proud when She giggled. “Can’t boss me around all the time.”

“Try me-“

“I’d love to.” He smirked, carefully grabbing Her chin to tip it back. “You have no idea how much I’d love to boss you around for once, baby.”

Flush. Hitched breath. Parted lip.

He was the luckiest son of a bitch alive, just to even know Her. To have seen Her enough to have her memorized, even if it wasn’t in every way he wanted. Hair tangled, but still glossy. Eyes brighter than the fucking universe, skin smooth against Dean’s. 

But he paused. There was a cut on Her lower lip, and a few visible bruises on Her face, and while Her features had been growing gaunt in his head—a lot of tension in his body seemed to exist from the worry that she wasn’t eating or sleeping, lately—She’d looked like this.

“What’s-“

“Nothing.” He grunted. Just a dream. She wasn’t actually hurt. He was pretty sure She wasn’t actually hurt. And he wanted to think about Her, here. In this dream, where She wanted him. 

“Dean-“

“I just miss you, sweetheart. Never gonna stop missing you.” He brushed a little hair from Her face, and Her face split into a wide grin.

“You miss me?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Course I freakin’ miss you, you know that-“

“How much?”

“More than fuckin’ oxygen-“

“But you have oxygen right now-“

Dean moved his hand lightly to Her neck, keeping her gaze fixed on him, and She let out a soft squeak that was going to drive him insane. “Princess?”

“De?” She whispered, bright eyes doing that flutter thing that always made Dean’s cock twitch, and he groaned.

“I miss you more than anything, baby.” He lowered his mouth to ghost over Her’s, and this was pushing it right to the line. “You’re never gonna be able to understand how much I fuckin’ miss you, but I do. I’d rip out my heart, if it made you come back to me.”

She swallowed and nodded, almost fully melted into Dean’s body, and it didn’t matter what Heaven offered him to take Michael in. Nothing could ever be better than this. 

And then something shook the world, and it was all gone.

“Dean, wake up, dude-“

“Fuck off.” He rolled over, moving the pillow to block over his ears. He didn’t want to hear Sammy right now. He just wanted to pass out and go back to Her siren voice, haunting him just as it always had.

“C’mon, Chuck texted me-“

“Don’t care. Let the angels have him, Sammy, what’s the asshole ever done for us anyway.”

Sam sighed from somewhere off to the side. “He did help me escape Lilith. And I know you don’t mean that, Dean.”

“You don’t-“

“I miss her too,” Sam’s voice had dropped to being impossibly soft, and Dean’s gut started to twist. “And we’ll find her. But we have to keep going, Dean.”

No, they didn’t.

They needed to be looking for Her. She’d said she was going to pray to Cas, but Cas said it never came through. She was fucking missing, again, and when Dean tried to call Her it just went to fucking voicemail. He didn’t give a shit about Chuck and his life-or-death situation. 

He just wanted his fucking girl home, so he could snap at Her about being insane and then hold Her until everything in the world was finally okay again.

“Dean. We gotta go.”

Dean let out a long, slow groan, and forced himself up. The morning was so fucking bright. And not Her bright, guiding Dean down, down, down and making the pit feel like it was full. Painful bright, that made him squint and rub his eyes.

Sam was, annoyingly, right. 

With all the angels running around, if Chuck was in danger, that was going to be a problem.

But that didn’t stop Dean from scowling and stewing into, for the entirety of the ride. Wasn’t like he had anything else to do. 

The trail on Her was all but dead. When She hadn’t appeared with Cas, after the last phone call, Dean had called for him instead. Just to check.

Then, it had been just to check.

“Dean, you know I am busy looking for-“

“God, yeah, I know.” Dean had been white knuckling his guns as he cleaned them, scowling at the air, and Cas had paused.

“Something is troubling you.” He’d said Her name slowly, and Dean might have almost broken his jaw. “I have told you, Raphael was likely just trying to provoke you-“

“Well, it fuckin’ worked.” It had. After they’d summoned the feathered asshole, Raphael had hummed that She’d make a good motivator, when it came down to it. Dean had almost shot him, and only managed not to because of Cas physically stopping him. But that wasn’t the goddamn point. “Cas, she-“

“I am not going to betray her trust and-“

“No, it’s-“ Dean had run a hand over his face, shaking his head. “She said she’d call you, man. I asked her to come back, and she said she’d call you.”

Cas had blinked, a small frown of his face, and Dean had felt something to the right of his heart clench.

Cas hadn’t needed to confirm it with words. Dean had understood. 

She was missing. 

Fucking again. 

And Cas couldn’t find Her. It had been damn near a week, and they hadn’t heard one word. When Dean pushed him, Cas said he’d lost the scent—whatever the hell that meant—so how She couldn’t be tracked unless she wanted to be.

But She wasn’t avoiding them. She’d promised She’d come back home, that She wasn’t running. That She’d return to Dean, and everything could be okay again, so She wasn’t running. 

Dean was pretty sure She wasn’t running. He hadn’t done anything to drive Her away that he could think of. He’d been just as careful with Her as always, and She’d been calling him, and She’d- She’d fucking promised. Pinky promised. Dean owed Her a dance, and She wasn’t running from him anymore, and they’d said all the way down. She had to come back to him. That was how this was supposed to work. 

And if She was missing, it couldn’t be anything good. Lucifer was out and running around. Heaven clearly knew things about Her they weren’t sharing.

She was in danger. They needed to be looking for Her, not saving Chuck. He had a whole douchebag archangel to do that.

The only thing that kept Dean from turning the car around was Sammy. He needed a win, and saving Chuck would be one.

And Dean was a little worried Sammy was blaming himself. For Her being gone. 

“I don’t know, Sammy.” Dean had muttered a few days ago, frowning at his burger in the diner booth. “I just got a bad feeling. I can’t stop thinking about her-“

“Which is,” Sam had raised his brows. “Different than normal?”

“Shut up, bitch. I’m being serious. Last time she went MIA like this I found her with a fuckin’ stab wound on the Mexican border-“

“Dean, I- I know.” Sam had sighed, a strange shadow crossing over his face. “But you told her everything, didn’t you. Maybe she- I mean- If she knows-“

Dean had frowned. “Knows what?”

“Lucifer. And me. How- That she was right.” Sam had bowed his head, his voice dropping. “About Ruby.”

“She knew she was right about Ruby-“

“Yeah, but- I don’t know. Never mind.”

In the moment, Dean had spiraled. Moved around thoughts of maybe She didn’t want to come home. To deal with their shit, with the burden that just being near Dean brought. Why would She let Dean, of all fucking people, even stay in Her orbit when he’d failed Her, and Jo, and Sam. 

Because he had. He hadn’t fought harder to keep Her next to him, and now She was missing.

He hadn’t been faster with Jo. Pushed harder for how he didn’t like the plan, gotten away from the demons to trade himself in her place. Jo was gone gone. If Anna had taken Dean instead, the angels would just pull him right back up. They needed him. But Dean had failed, and how he’d lost Her and the closest thing he’d had to a sister. 

And Sammy. 

He’d failed Sammy.

He hadn’t saved him from Ruby’s clutches. Hadn’t gotten him to listen. The only victory Dean could claim was not letting the kid wander off on his own after the cage opened, and even that was failing. 

Because he’d missed what Sam meant, in the diner. How She might not come back, because of Sam.

It was an insane thought. She never ran because Sam pushed Her away. Sam had only ever been loyal to Her, keeping her secret and going with Her plans, and treating Her well, even when She and Dean were fighting. Just like She’d always treated Sammy well, when he and Dean were fighting. 

Dean was the common factor there. The one who fucked up, and lost Her.

And he lay awake at night about it. When he was afraid to close his eyes, because it didn’t matter if he had a nightmare or dream, the worst thing in the world would be not dreaming of Her. Not waking up with the smell of Her fruit still lingering in the air and his hand bruised from Her phantom touch. There was always a chance that this night would be the night She wasn’t there.

So he’d stare at the ceiling, and try and work out where he’d gone wrong. But he could never fucking find it. Whenever he thought of when She’d vanished before, Dean could pin a reason to it. Dean left first. Dad drove Her away. Dean drove Her away. Dad used Azazel to drive Her away. Dean’s death drove Her away. 

But Dad was dead, and couldn’t touch Her anymore.

And Dean had been so fucking careful with Her. Tried to hold Her right and be Her shadow, even when holding Her meant through the phone—choking on the lump in his throat when he listened to Her cry, but never hanging up—and being Her shadow meant waiting for Her to return. 

He’d gotten up in the dead of night, two days after the phone call. Shuffled into the kitchen just for water, and gotten a heart attack when Bobby grunted his name from the doorway.

“Son of a bitch-“

“Stop being a dramatic baby.” Bobby had rolled his eyes, glaring at Dean from his wheelchair. “It’s my house, ya idjit. I’m gonna be in it.”

“It’s 2 in the damn morning-“

“And we’re both up. So stick it.” Bobby had paused, giving Dean an odd look. “I’m guessin’ it ain’t thirst keeping you up.”

In a way, it was. 

Dean wasn’t stupid enough to say that, though.

He’d sighed, leaning against the counter, and taken the risk. He’d needed to talk about it with someone.  

Bobby might be the only person who really understood. 

“I miss her.” He’d muttered, his voice already going hoarse, staring at the water in his glass. “Shit, Bobby, I- I miss her so much. And I keep thinking about how she might be on the floor somewhere, and I won’t be able to get to her.”

Bobby had sighed, and rolled further into the kitchen. Until he was right in front of Dean. “I know. I do. And I- Fucking hell, I miss her too. House is always too big without her, and you two dumbasses aren’t half as funny as she is. But, he’d reached up, grabbing Dean’s forearm until he looked up from the glass. “Listen to me, Dean. Since she was fourteen, there have been months at a time where she don’t come home. Where I get a phone call a week and then she’s showin’ up covered in blood with another stolen car for me to scrap. But she always shows up. Always comes home.”

Dean had shaken his head. “But-“

“I know you wanna look for her. And if you think you can find ‘er, trust your gut and go. But wherever she is, don’t think she’s not tryin’ to get back.” Bobby’s voice had dropped, and in the dim light of the kitchen, Dean could’ve fucking sworn he saw something like pain all over Bobby’s face. “She’s a fighter more than a runner, when she’s pushed to it. And if she wants to come back, I don’t think God himself would do well standin’ in her way."

Dean could agree with that. 

And he tried to replay it, whenever he wanted to jump out of the car and rip up the world until he found Her.

She always came back. 

And She’d promised, so She would.

She had to. 

“There was an Earthquake in France.” Sam said, jerking Dean’s attention back from his thoughts. “9.5. Bobby thinks it’s another omen.”

Dean grunted, glaring out at the road. “Omen for what, this time? Just more freakin’ death?”

Sam shrugged. “Don’t know yet. There’s still damage assessment happening, and the press is saying that the earthquake might have been a result of something else.”

“Something like what? Lucifer?”

“Still don’t know, Dean-“

“Then why are we talking about it?”

Dean could feel Sam’s flat look. “Because we need to be paying attention to his stuff. And you brooding isn’t going to help anyone.”

“I’m not brooding-“

“Yeah, you are.” Sam said Her name, and Dean was going to strangle him. “She’d say it’s brooding.”

“Shut up.”

“Dean-“

“No. Shut up, and listen to the music.”

Sam sighed, and listened. Dean wouldn’t strangle him. He was trying to help, even if he was being a little fucking bitch about it.

But Dean was going to strangle someone. 

Chuck wasn’t in danger. He was using those stupid books to throw a costume party that exploited their lives, and not even the good parts. Fucking Becky—Chuck’s messenger girl, the one that was obsessed with Sammy—had tricked them into coming here, and now they were losing valuable time to look for Her-

“Dude, you gotta relax.” Sam muttered, scanning around the room of nerds, and Dean scowled.

“This is fuckin’ stupid, we should just go-“

“It’s not gonna help her, Dean-“

“You don’t know that-“

“Yes, I do.” Sam gave him a firm look. “If Cas finds her, he’ll call us, and if she ends up back at Bobby’s he’ll make sure she’s fine-“

“Who are you talking about?” Becky appeared between them, looking back and forth with wide eyes. “Is it Anna? Are you looking for Anna?”

Dean shouldn’t hit a girl. His fist still curled to punch this chick’s face in.

It was good Sam answered first. “It’s not Anna. Anna’s dead.”

Becky frowned. “No, she’s not-“

“How the hell do you even know about Anna?” Dean snapped, and Becky just shrugged.

“Chuck told me. And she’s not dead, she escaped Castiel and Uriel-“

“Then she turned around and sided with heaven again.” Sam muttered. “Anna might not be dead in Chuck’s version, but she’s dead in our lives."

“In your- Are things different than in the books?” Becky’s eyes widened, and Dean gave Sam a flat look.

“Nice going, dumbass.”

Sam sighed. “She’d probably find out anyway, Dean-“

“Well, she did, because you fuckin’ told her-“

“Wow.” Becky was looking between them, shaking her head. “You guys swear a lot more than in the books.”

Dean scowled. “There’s a lot more to swear about in real life, lady.”

“Like the mysterious she that you lost?” Becky was smiling again. Punching her was quickly becoming a very real option. “Is it Lisa? Bela? No, Bela’s dead too. Jo?” Dean felt his chest ache and twist, and he must have visibly tensed, because Becky’s smile widened. “Oh my gosh, it’s Jo, isn’t it! Did you go back to Jo, Dean-“

“Jo’s dead too.” Sam grunted. “Anna killed her.”

Dean got a very firm don’t shoot the crazy lady look. He rolled his eyes, and moved his hand off his gun. 

“But- Anna killed Jo? Then who killed Anna? Was it Dean?” Her voice dropped to a whisper as a few more idiots dressed in leather jackets and open button ups moved past them. Dean wasn’t allowed to shoot her. “Did Dean kill her in revenge- Murdering one lover in the name of another-“

“One lover?” Dean spat, and Sam let out a long sigh. “What the fuck are you talking about-“

“You and Jo had a thing.” Becky stood her ground, although her voice was suddenly a lot smaller. Good. “And- And Chuck said you slept with Anna-“

“With Anna-“

“Dean.” Sam grabbed his shoulder, shaking his head. “Not worth it. It’s- It’s probably better nobody knows.”

Dean scoffed. “That’s pretty fucking easy for you to say, Sammy-“

“It is.” Sam held his gaze, keeping his words steady, even though fucking Becky was still listening. “If she was in the books, her family could find them. Chuck might not have used last names, but- I don’t know, dude, they could connect the dots and track her down. She’s safer not being a part of this, Dean, and you know it.”

Sam was right. God fucking damnit, that was a good point. And if She had been in the books, all of Dean’s thought about Her would be available to the public. There would be people dressed up with glossy hair and jackets and knives, trying to imitate her bright eyes and siren voice, like a crude, faded knockoff of one of those fancy statues in museums. It was bad enough to look around the room and see all the reminders of the worst parts of Dean’s life—there were three yellow-eyes, and Dean wanted to march over and rip out their stupid contacts—so he didn’t need people fucking up the best part. 

He already had to put up with Becky.

He really wished he was allowed to shoot her.

“Is there… a secret person?” Becky pried in a hushed whisper as some guy with a clipboard rambled into the microphone. “Who’s not in the books? Who Dean’s sleeping with instead of Anna and Jo?”

“Yes.”

“Sam-“

The bitch just shrugged, smirking slightly as Becky turned to Dean. 

“You have a girlfriend?” 

Dean ignored her, and shot Sam a very firm I am going to murder you later look.

Sam didn’t seem as worried about it as he should be.

Becky still wouldn’t shut the fuck up.

And Chuck was taking Q&As. But as much as Sammy was right, a lot of the questions were pretty fucking simply answered by Her.

Everything was better with Her.

A guy dressed as Bobby asked why Sam didn’t explore witchcraft as an option to save Dean. Chuck shot Dean a nervous look, and mumbled that Sam had been too stressed to think of everything. 

Becky gasped, moving herself right into Dean’s view. “Did your secret girlfriend do the witchcraft? Did you not die in real life-“

“No, uh,” Sam swallowed, his voice dropping slightly. “He died.”

“Oh no.” Becky gave Sam a sympathetic look—not Dean, which was pretty fucking rude, cause Sammy hadn’t died—and placed a hand on his chest. “That must have been so hard for you, Sam.”

“Yeah, uh,” Sam coughed. “It was rough. Think it was worse on-“

“Sam.” Dean grunted, shooting him a firm glare, and Sam nodded.

“Right. Sorry.”

It continued all afternoon. Through the Q&A—someone asked if Dean would ever settle down with Lisa, and Sam had to shove Dean outside to walk it off—and their conversation with Chuck. Becky kept fucking pushing about it, and Chuck didn’t seem all that happy about the situation either.

“I- I didn’t include her for a reason, Becky.” Chuck gave Dean another nervous glance, and Dean just narrowed his eyes. “There’s a lot of complicated things going on, and I don’t fully understand them, so I wanted to just focus on making the books enjoyable-“

“And I’ve enjoyed them! But I want to know everything, Chuck, please.” Becky pouted again, and all Dean wasn’t sure how the expression could look mind-blowingly perfect on Her, and constipated on Becky. “Haven’t I earned it-“

“No.” Dean grunted, and Becky rolled her eyes. 

“You just want to keep your secret girlfriend all to yourself-“

“Girlfriend?” Chuck cut in, gaping slightly at Dean. “I- I didn’t know you guys were dating-“

“We’re- It’s complicated-“

“No, it’s not.” Sam rolled his eyes. “They’ve made out. Twice.” 

Dean scowled, and he should punch Sammy right in the jaw—what the fuck happened to better as a secret—but before he could, the words fell right out of his mouth. “Three times.”

“Three- When did the third time happen?”

“None of your fuckin’ business.”

“Why didn’t you tell me-“

“Because of this,” Dean gestured to the shocked faces of Chuck and Becky, and Sam sighed.

“Yeah, but- Alright. That’s fair.”

There was a second of silence, and Becky broke it with a cough. 

“Is she pretty?”

Sam snorted. “She’s way out of Dean’s league, if that’s what you’re asking.”

She was. Son of a bitch, She was out of everyone’s league. She was playing a wholly different game, and it was made of being the brightest thing in to every exist. Playing in Her league would probably mean killing God or something.

And She’d still been kissing Dean. 

Chuck gave Dean an odd look. “But she- likes him?”

Dean opened his mouth to snap something—he wasn’t sure what, but it would be made of didn’t matter, because Dean was the only one who got to be Her shadow and he’d rather jump headfirst into Hell than be anything else—but Sam laughed first.

“You have no idea-“

Dean stood up, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m going for a walk.”

He wasn’t telling anyone in particular. And a walk meant going outside and pacing around the lawn, glaring at the dirt under his feet and breathing slowly until he wanted to kill someone less. 

Sam was such a fucking shit. Dean was going to put hot sauce in his underwear again, or shave half his head in his sleep, or throw him off a cliff. 

But it was less the snitching, that was fueling the fury in his body. 

It was the ache. Missing Her. Just fucking wishing She was here, because if She told Sammy to shut up, he’d listen. He never teased Her about anything. And if She was here, Sam wouldn’t try to stop Her from killing Becky. She’s spin Her knife in her hand and give Becky a firm glare when she got to close to Sammy, and the bitch would back the hell off, Dean could even put a hand on Her lower back and she might lean into him, smiling up at him as they traded whispered jokes about how fucking stupid this whole thing was. 

She wouldn’t put up with it. Any of it. At the end of the day She was Bobby’s daughter, so She didn’t put up with any of this fucking bullshit.

And maybe when Chuck asked if She liked Dean, he’d get to watch Her flush, and her breath hitch with parted lips, and he’d get to know. That She felt some of it. That She would still give Dean those pretty, fluttering eyes when he teased Her. That there was a chance—if he grabbed Her chin and smirked down at Her like he’d done in so many dreams—that She’d whisper his name, and Dean would get to kiss Her in front of everyone. And they could all know that Dean was Her shadow. That there was no one who would touch Her or protect Her like he could.

Fuck, he missed Her. 

And it didn’t matter how much he called for Her in his head—looking up at the sky like it might take his plea for her, and throw it across the universe—nobody was listening. 

Then something to the right of Dean’s heart pounded. Strained. Echoed around his rib cage in a way that way borderline painful, growing and growing and growing as it only got worse. All the world was Technicolor, and air was shifting into that sticky warmth that came before a storm, and Dean could fucking swear he could smell Her on the rushing wind, could see the sparkling glass in the pavement growing brighter and all the flowers on the edge of the forest start to bloom in seconds. 

Something was coming. Dean knew something was coming. And he should run back inside and tell Sammy, but his legs wouldn’t move. He didn’t want to move. Every single fiber of his being was keeping him rooted in place, like he was anchored there by that pain in his chest, and then-

He almost fell to his knees.

She was there. 

Here. 

In front of Dean, blinking at him with slightly glazed eyes and silver pupils, but here.

It wasn’t a trick, or a replica. Dean should probably be more vigilant of that, but he knew. Nothing else made the world look like this. Made every color brighter and every edge sharper. Nothing could ever duplicate the sheer beauty of Her, as if all the stars and waterfalls and gardens and storms and fireplaces had been shoved in one woman.

It was all Her. 

Dean whispered Her name, and she just stared at him. 

Not speaking to him. Not moving for him. But not moving away, either. Just looking at him as Her hair seemed to float around Her face, and when Dean took a slow step forward—the pain in his chest easing slightly as he moved to Her, and it was the only place he could ever think to go—She didn’t flinch. 

Her pupils were still sheer silver, and Dean felt a little like he was looking at something he shouldn’t be. It should be hurting his eyes, how bright She was.

But it was more like looking at a lighthouse, or the North Star. There was nothing to do but follow it.

Nowhere to go but home.

Dean reach out a hand to touch Her, to trace over Her face and She was real. Soft and warm under his fingers. Leaning into his touch. 

And the silver in Her eyes flared, when he tried to move away. Her hand darted up to hold Dean against Her, lip parting as she shook her head. 

“Princess, are you-“ 

She took an unsteady step forward, until She was pressed right into Dean’s chest. Fingers tracing over his face so gently as he just stared at Her, and looked perfect, but still a little gaunt, and there were bags under Her eyes, and she still wasn’t speaking-

Dean muttered Her name, catching her hand in his, and Her eyes fluttered as she looked up to him. .

“It’s okay.” He whispered, squeezing Her hand three times, over and over and she leaned a little further forward. “I’ve got you, but- Shit- Wait-“

The beauty of the world was only growing brighter, as Her eyes grew glossier. More and more silver.

Dean moved his hands to hold Her face—there were not visible injuries, but it was only a small comfort—and did the one thing he’d only ever done right.

Calmed Her down. Running his thumb over the bridge of Her nose and mutters low words about how he was here, and She was fine, holding Her until she came back down to him.

“You’re gonna be okay,” He muttered Her name, keeping his gaze fixed on Her’s, even as Her eyes fluttered closed. “I’m here. I’ve got you. All the way down, Princess. Come back down for me.” His voice was a rasp. He didn’t try to fight it. “Please come back down.”

She let out a shaky breath, and when She blinked Her eyes open, her pupils were blown out and glazed, but black. 

She was back. She could see him. And slightly swollen lips parted as She scanned over his face, Her voice barely a breath when she spoke. 

“Dean?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, offering a small smile. “It’s me. I’ve got you, Princess.”

“Are- Are you-“

“I’m okay.”

She made a sound like a whimper, and suddenly Her face was buried in into him, Her arms wrapping around his shoulders.

She was shaking as another choked sound was muffled against his chest. 

Dean felt like he was being split in half by lighting. Like he’d stepped into the middle of an electric storm, and everything was moving too fast and too slow all at once. She smelled like fruit and fit so well against him, and She wasn’t vanishing, but She was sobbing, and it was making Dean’s heart split and fracture.

But he just kept holding Her, combing his finger through Her shiny hair, right up until the sounds stopped, and Her breaths became even. 

She’d passed out.

Good.

He could just carry Her home. 

Dean hooked his arms under Her knees and hauled Her up his chest, glancing around the yard one last time to check that this really was just it. That he’d asked Her to come home and She had, without demons or angels on Her tail. 

And it would be so easy to miss it. To mistake the way the air seemed to be shimmering as a trick of the light, or decided that the way the flowers and moss seemed to be bursting out of the trees was just a natural phenomenon. Yet there was no mistaking how—growing out the walls on the inn, like an odd limb—there were branches hanging with iridescent apples that glowed. 

But it was all Her. 

No trap.

Just Her, fit perfectly into Dean’s arms, and knocked the hell out. 

Dean said Her name as he turned back to the inn. Just to make sure She really was down. She didn’t even shift or stir, and he sighed, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Her head. 

She moved further into him at that. But Her eyes barely even fluttered, and Her grip didn’t tighten. She just squirmed until Dean could feel how fucking warm She was—too warm, bordering on a fever with the way sweat was clinging to Her brow—and keep his cheek pressed to Her’s as he marched back inside.

“You’re gonna be alright, baby.” He muttered, turning to let his lips ghost over Her skin. “You’re home. It’s gonna be okay.”

She didn’t so much as hum.

And She was still so fucking warm. 

The smart thing to do would be put Her in the car, then go find Sammy and tell him what was going on. But every time Dean so much as shifted Her, She’d make that whimpering sound, and something to the right of his heart would ache. It would be easier to just show Sam. Easier to just keep holding Her, because she wanted him to, and Dean couldn’t deny Her anything if he tried. 

“Dean!” Sam called from behind him, somewhere in another freakin’ hallway. “Look, dude, I think there might be a case here, and I’m sorry for teasing you about-“

Dean turned, and Sam’s voice trailed off as he said Her name, his eyes growing almost comically wide.

“I- You-“ Sammy’s eyes were fixed on Her sleeping form in Dean’s arms, his voice almost a whisper. “How?”

“Don’t know.” Dean grunted, and Sam’s eyes shot back up to him.

“What do you mean, you don’t know-“

“I mean I was standing outside, thinking, and then she was fuckin’ there-“

“Thinking about what-“

“That’s not important-“

“It seems pretty important, Dean! People don’t just fucking teleport-“

“Shut up.” Dean hissed through his teeth, and Sam snapped his mouth shut as She twisted slightly in Dean’s arms, settling down after a few, long moments.

“Fuck.” Sam whispered, looking back to Her, sleeping peacefully once more. “That’s- Are we sure it’s not a trap-“

“Yes.” He grunted. “And if you wanna hear the truth, I don’t really give a fuck if it is.”

Sam let out a long breath, then nodded slowly. “I’ll stay and take care of this. Probably just a salt and burn, and with all the fake us’s around here, one of them has to end up being useful.”

“Thanks.” Dean started his walk back to the car, and Sam quickly fell into pace. “I can have Bobby send someone-“

“I think Bobby’s gonna be occupied, dude.”

Dean huffed a dry laugh, glancing back down, because even though he could feel Her, he still had to check She was real. “Yeah, I’d bet that too.”

“You gonna call him?”

“I’ll do it on the road.” Dean ducked through the door as Sam held it open, giving a short nod. “Text him if you need something, though, I-“

“I know. I-“ Sam took a deep breath, and Dean glanced at him with a frown. His face was turned down, his eyes still fixed on Her. A little like he was trying to will Her to wake up.

Dean understood the feeling.

His keys were in his jacket, and he couldn’t hold Her and get the car started. Passing Her into Sam’s arms felt a little like his heart was trying to move out of his chest to go with Her, but he’d survive. He’d managed this long not touching Her at all. Managed longer. And She didn’t fold into Sam the same way She had with Dean, but she didn’t wake up or fight it.

And Dean didn’t miss the way Sammy’s shoulders relaxed, when he realized She wasn’t going to try and push him away. 

“I’ll call you when I’m back,” Dean muttered, unlocking the Impala as Sam swayed Her slightly, like he was cradling a baby. 

She’d be pissed about that, if Dean told Her. She’d pout and scowl and mutter that She wasn’t a fucking baby.

Dean just found it kind of adorable. Like some weird, twisted image of a kid singing their parent a messy lullaby. 

“Okay.” Sammy nodded, still swaying Her as Dean opened the door. “If I’m done before then I’ll call around and see who’s nearby-“

“Sam!” Becky’s shrill voice echoed through the parking lot, and Dean really wished Sam had let him shoot her. “Oh my gosh, Chuck told me that you think there’s a real case, did you find- Who is that?”

Dean didn’t fucking appreciate the venom is Becky’s voice. The lady was lucky to even be in Her presence.

“It’s- Uh-“ Sam looked to Dean with almost a desperation, and Dean sighed, reaching out to take Her back.

She fit right back into him. 

The real struggle might be getting Her into the car. 

“Sam, you have to tell me if you’re with someone else-“

“I- Why?”

“Because it’s not fair-“

“To who?” Sammy was spluttering as Dean maneuvered Her onto the bench, Her grip impressively tight for a woman who was passed out.

“To me!” Becky whined, not seeming to give a fuck that Sammy wasn’t even touching Her anymore. “It’s stringing me along, Sam, and that’s not very nice-“

“Becky?” Awesome. Chuck here too, now, and Dean still couldn’t get Her in the damn car. 

“You gotta work with me, Princess.” He muttered, drawing back up to his full height. “I can’t drive you home in my lap-“

That wasn’t actually a shit idea. Dean had done more without being pulled over-

“Becky?” Chuck was still walking over. Dean was really leaning towards the lap plan. “Oh, shit, there you are. You know, I told you that so you wouldn’t run off- Are you guys leaving?”

“No, uh-“ Sam cleared his throat. “Just Dean. He’s got some other stuff to attend to-“

“Really?” Becky scoffed. “Listen, Dean, I know you’re too cool for all this stuff, but a lot of people worked really hard-“

“No, Becky, it’s not that-“

“Then what is it- Is it that slut-“

Dean had been ignoring most of the conversation. 

That got through. 

“Hey.” He whipped around, still holding Her tight against him, and narrowed his eyes at Becky. “You talk about her like that, I put a bullet in your fucking brain, you got that?”

Becky nodded, her face a little pale, and Dean let out a breath. 

“Good. Sammy, how illegal is driving with someone in your lap?”

Sam frowned. “Are we talking normal people illegal, or us illegal?”

“Us illegal.”

“Then I’d say like, 45%-“

Chuck cut Sam off with a breath of Her name, and they both froze to find him staring, mouth open, face a little pale. “Is- Is that her?”

“Yeah.” Dean grunted, his fingers curling slightly against Her body, and Becky frowned.

“Who’s-“

“Don’t worry about it, Becky.” Chuck said, his eyes still fixed on Her, and Becky let out a dramatic huff. 

Chuck seemed done talking, though. He just kept staring as Sam helped Dean move into the car—he figured out a strategy where he rolled Her to the side once he was sat down—and Becky tried to ask more questions that were wholly ignored. It was pretty easily chalked up to how She was the only person in Sam and Dean’s lives the prophet couldn’t read. 

It was still pretty fucking creepy. 

And Chuck was still staring in the rearview mirrors, as Dean pulled the Impala away. He seemed almost in a trace, shaking his head right before they drove out of view.

Dean had bigger worried though. 

He had to get Her home. 

She remained down, the first four hours of the drive. Dean allowed himself to press a carefully kiss to Her temple every few miles—to check Her temperature, and no other selfish reasons—and Her possible fever wasn’t growing, but it wasn’t going down, either. Likely not a side effect of doing whatever the hell that had been, but probably not a sickness, either. A sickness would mean She was vomiting, shivering, coughing slightly in Her sleep, doing something else besides burning like the freaking sun. 

But She wasn’t. She was just settled against Dean, breathing without a single hitch, even when Dean fucked up and hit a bump. 

She seemed fine, visibly. On the surface, where Dean would find cuts and bruises if someone had hurt Her. 

But maybe being in that borderline catatonic state had healed Her. And someone had been hurting Her, and when She woke up, she’d start screaming and crying and scrambling away from Dean’s touch. 

He could deal with the first two. When She screamed and cried, Dean just had to stay with Her, and sooth Her however he was allowed. But if She scrambled away, Dean didn’t know what he would do. If he had Her back, just for Her to not want him anymore. 

That was a lie. Dean knew exactly what he’d do.

He’d wait, and follow Her wherever She asked him to go. 

All the way down.

He called Bobby, around hour five. When She was staring to roll a little, readjusting Her face and wiggling closer into Dean’s side.

It took two tries. Dean should’ve used Her phone. The old fucker would’ve picked up right away.

“Dean, I’m in the middle of damn dinner, and Sam said it was just a salt and burn-“

“Bobby.” Dean muttered, glancing down at Her as he spoke. “She’s back.”

There was a long silence, and Bobby’s voice was hoarse as he said Her name. “You found her?”

“Kinda. More like she found me.” Dean let out a long breath, and She hummed slightly. “It’s- Has she ever gotten a fever? Using her thing?”

Bobby sighed through the speak. “Only for a few years, when she was real little. She used to make the floors form black mold after I cleaned ‘em, and one time the trees all started growin’ some weird glass-lookin’ fruit, then she’d get a fever. But it stopped when she started usin’ her… methods. She warm when you touch ‘er?”

“Yeah.”

“Then she’s fine. She gets cold when she’s sick. Sorta like touchin’ a dead body.”

“Alright.” Dean let out a long, slow breath, shaking that image from his head. “We’re heading back now, but Sammy stayed behind, he’s gonna work the case himself-“

“Dean-“

“Maybe send someone, just so he has extra hands-“

“Dean.” Bobby’s voice was firmer, and Dean swallowed. “Stop drivin’.”

“I-“ Dean must have misheard him. “What? I’m driving her home-“

“From Oregon, ya idjit. That’s a fuckin’ day.”

“I’ve driven longer-“

“I know, but she needs you.”

Dean swallowed. “Bobby, I-“

“Don’t play humble and stupid with me, Dean. You ain’t good at either. She needs you, and you’re already fuckin’ there. Movin’ Her around is only gonna distress her when she wakes up.”

“But-“

“No but. Trust me, I wish you could just teleport her right back to me, but ya can’t. And you ain’t been sleepin’ well, Dean. One more night without her home ain’t gonna kill me, but findin’ out your dumbass passed out at the wheel and drove off a bridge will. Rest.”

Dean opened his mouth to tell Bobby that—actually—teleporting did seem to be an option on the table, but the line clicked dead, the conversation forcibly over. 

The motel they pulled off to was nicer than Dean usually opted for. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure why. The credit cards were stolen anyway, but Dad had always insisted they sleep in the cheapest place available. 

And She used to steal all those fancy cars, before Dean bought Her the Firebird. 

Dean had a feeling She did it for the same reason She always gave about all Her skincare and makeup and hair shit. Made Her feel a little more normal.

This did feel a little more normal. They had air conditioning that didn’t rattle, and a door where Dean trusted the lock, and they were sleeping in a bed that didn’t have lumps in it.

Together. 

Dean had tried to move away. Just for his own peace of mind, he’d made an effort to pry himself away, and then She’d let out that whimper and he’d given up. She’d let him know if She didn’t want him there, when She woke up. Dean didn’t doubt that for a second. But for now She let him wrap around Her—their shoes resting near the door and their jackets folded together on a chair—and kept sleeping peacefully as Dean just watched Her. 

He couldn’t sleep. Bobby had been right, he needed to, but he couldn’t. He needed to keep watching Her, in case an angel swooped down and tried to take Her away. Dean needed to keep looking to make sure She was real, and this wasn’t just an impossibly cruel dream.

And he’d been here before. Holding Her through the night and just staring at Her like a creep. But he’d never allowed himself this close. Where his chest was all but pressed against Her’s, and Her breath fanned over his neck, and their legs were tangled together under the sheets.

Dean wasn’t sure he’d ever been this close to anyone. He’d cuddled, after sex, but this felt different. Softer. She was still trying to bury Herself into him. Dean was keeping his hands over Her shirt, but he’d allowed himself to rest his face against Her hair, and breathe in the fruit until his body fully relaxed. 

She was here. Holding him. Her fever slowly dropping and Her soft, humming noises becoming more frequent as she only burrowed in closer.

Bobby had said She needed him. 

If this was being needed felt like, Dean never wanted to be anything else again. 

And when She woke up, there wasn’t any panic. Her eyes just fluttered open and landed on Dean’s, neither of them making any move to pull away. 

They didn’t speak for a long moment. There didn’t seem to be a damn point to it. Her hand reached up between their bodies to trace over Dean’s face with an impossibly light touch, and Dean just let himself fall into Her eyes. Fixed on him. Looking so fucking tired, but still bright. Always bright. There were lights from passing cars dancing through the windows, but She was brighter. More beautiful. And a few tears were rolling down her face as She met Dean’s eyes once more, features a little puffy from sleep, but no less ethereal. 

And Sammy used to be obsessed with mythology, when he was a kid. And Dad had been sure to let him know what was danger and what was fantasy, but Dean had sat next to the kid and let him explain all the different gods until he fell asleep, and Dean moved him into the bed. 

There had been a lot of gods. The biggest thing Dean remembered thinking was that, for all of history, people had spent too much time worshipping things that didn’t fucking exist.

He knew he’d been right, now. 

Because in all of human history, nobody had ever seemed to work out what the closest thing to God actually looked like.

Her. 

It was—always had been—that fucking simple.  

It was just Her.

“Dean.” She whispered, and he gave Her a small grin.

“Hey, Princess. I-“ He had to keep it together. For Her. 

But that didn’t stop his voice from dropping to a rasp.

“I missed you.”

“I-“ Her lips tightened, wobbling slightly, and Her hand was lingering against his jaw.

Dean wished he had a good reason to turn it, and kiss Her palm. 

“I missed you too.”

He nodded slowly, holding his voice as he forced the words out. He had to ask. 

He had to know.

“Are you staying?”

Her breath hitched slightly. “Do you want me to stay?”

Dean nodded, because there was nothing else to do. “All the way down.” And before he could stop himself- “Please.”

“Okay.” Her voice was so soft. “All the way down.”

And that was it. They fought and screamed about this before, but it had ended the same way every time. 

They’d both stay.

All the way down. 

She cleared Her throat, scanning over his face. “Are you hungry?”

He’d never been hungrier. He’d never craved anything like he wanted to roll Her over right here, and claim his place fully as Her shadow. As he wanted to make Her feel good, take full care of Her, show Her how much he’d missed Her with his hands and tongue and- 

“Dean?” She whispered, and he sighed.

Not now. Not when the tears were still dry on Her face, and Dean was a little afraid She’d grow wings and fly away if he didn’t give Her enough of a reason to stay here in the mud, with him.

He’d show Her later. When things were easier, and She could pass out peacefully against him, after. 

“I could eat. Saw a gas station a mile or two back.” He offered Her a small grin. “You wanna drive, Princess?”

Her smile might have been bright enough to wipe the sun out of existence. 

Dean wouldn’t care if it did. 

At least She’d still be here, at his side. 

Right where they both belonged.

End Note: Becky I hope you know that you are now in danger. Eileen you've never done anything wrong in your life ever. Princess, you need like a nap and maybe some dick.

Thank you so so so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[queen-of-the-avengers]

Moving On

Pairing: Eventual Bartender!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3.3k

Warnings: angst, fluff at the end

Summary: Bucky is definitely moving in with Sharon, whether you want him to or not. If you can’t get on board, then you’re going to try like hell to make him realize what he’s missing. Then, you come to the realization that if you love someone, you do what’s best for them, even if it sucks for you.

One in a Million Series

Square Filled: shipwrecked (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Not even twenty-four hours have passed since Bucky dropped that huge bomb on your life. He’s leaving. He’s really leaving, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. No more late-night conversations. No more drinking his new concoctions he’d like to serve at the bar. No more going on late-night drives on the back of his motorcycle because neither of you could sleep.

All that is going away because he thinks Sharon is a changed woman. You, Sam, and Steve are sitting at the dining room table while Bucky sits at the head of the table studying your reactions. He refuses to meet your eyes because he knows what he’s going to see in your eyes. You’re disappointed. No, you’re heartbroken. He’s leaving for another woman. He’s chosen.

He didn’t choose you.

Not like he’d know you were ever an option. You never told him how you felt about him. Now, he’s gonna live with Sharon and live out his life not knowing that he could have had a life with you. What about you? You broke things off with Tony because there wasn’t any passion. Bucky is passionate. Are you just going to coast through life with meaningless relationships while Bucky is out there living his life?

“So, as you all know, I am going to be moving in with Sharon. Is there anything any of you would like to say?”

“You’re making a huge mistake. Why can’t you see that?” you ask.

“Think of all the money I’m gonna save not covering for you,” Sam chuckles.

“We could turn his bedroom into a movie theater. You always love watching movies at full blast like we’re not right next to you,” Steve says to Sam.

“What are you guys doing? Are you seriously going to let this happen?” you gasp.

“What can we do? He clearly knows what he wants.”

“Do you?” You look at Bucky. “Do you know what you want?”

“I do.” You look away from him so he doesn’t see the film of tears in your eyes. “Listen, this isn’t easy for me.”

“It sure as hell sounds like it. This is bullshit. I’m not going to sit here and listen to this.”

You stand up and storm to your room.

“Y/N, come on,” Bucky sighs.

“This is going well,” Sam grins.

“Shut the fuck up, Sam.”

Bucky leaves the table and approaches your door. Sam and Steve are silent until they hear him go into your room.

“You know what we gotta do, right?” Sam asks.

“She won’t like it.”

“Rent’s gotta be paid, though. Want to increase your cut, or do you want someone else to live here?”

Steve sighs and pulls out his phone. “I’ll put an ad out.”

Meanwhile, you rummage through your closet for something else to wear while Bucky shuffles on either foot awkwardly.

“We gotta talk about this.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Y/N, just stop and think about this through my eyes. I know you don’t like Sharon, but I think this could work between us.”

You pause and let the tears fall freely. You don’t dare look back at Bucky because then he’d see how heartbroken you are. He’s moving on with you, all because you were too cowardly to confess.

“I’m not doing this to hurt you.”

“I know,” you whisper. “Please leave. I just want to be alone right now.”

Bucky sighs, but he leaves without another word. You wish you didn’t fall for him. You wish you could be happy for him. All you see is him with her, loving her, when it should be you who he loves. It’s like you’ve been shipwrecked and you can’t find your way off this godforsaken island. You don’t see Bucky for the rest of day, only in the morning as he continues to pack.

Unbeknownst to you, Sam and Steve put out an ad for the place yesterday, and there is already one person who is interested in taking Bucky’s room. Maybe this is for the best. The sooner someone else moves in, the sooner you can get him out of your head. You, Steve, and Sam are sitting on the couch with the new potential tenant in the small chair across from you. Bucky shuffles around the place and quietly packs, but he always looks back to watch you.

“So, Reese, tell us about yourself,” Sam says.

“Okay, well, I am a mechanic and I own my own shop not far from here. I think I’ve worked on half the cars in this city. I don’t do my jobs half-assed. I also dabble in a bit of home maintenance because I know how unreliable landlords can be. I’m thirty-five and single, and I’m a pretty quiet guy.”

“Reese, was it?” Without waiting for him to answer, you continue. “How do you feel about really loud music, because I love playing my music to the max. I also love going on feminist rants. I hope you don’t mind the rats in this place.”

Bucky rolls his eyes as he passes by. “Don’t listen to her. She’s just trying to scare you.”

“Would you mind giving us a few minutes? We’re just going to talk for a second.” Steve nudges you and Sam. “Come on.”

You three walk into the bathroom, and Sam shakes his head. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re acting insane.”

“Don’t give me that look, Wilson. Why are we even entertaining the idea of another person right now? Bucky isn’t even gone yet.”

“We need a way to pay the rent. Unless you want to cough up Bucky’s share.”

“I think we need to take a step back and just think about this for a second. Why are you two rushing this? Don’t tell me it’s the rent when I know one month won’t kill us.” Sam and Steve are silent. “Please, just slow down.”

Steve sees the desperation in your eyes, and he can’t help but cave. “Fine. I’ll tell him.”

Steve leaves to tell the guy that while he is a good candidate, they’ll need some time to think about it. You shrink away from Sam’s gaze.

“Do you have a thing for Bucky?”

“Drop it, Sam,” you say, and leave the bathroom.

Bucky doesn’t have a lot of things, so with the guys’ help, he’s done packing by the afternoon. The truck he rented is parked outside, and the guys help bring his things there. It’s not a lot, but it looks like they don’t need you. Not like you’d help. You don’t want to aid in his departure.

Bucky slides the door closed and locks it. “Alright, that’s the last of it. Thank you for helping me pack.”

Steve and Sam agreed to go with him to the new place so that unpacking goes as smoothly as the packing, but you’re not going. You don’t know if you can face Sharon right now. What would you say to her? You know what you’d like to say, but if you keep acting like a petulant child, you’re going to push Bucky away.

You look up just as Bucky walks to the driver’s side. “Bucky, wait.”

Steve and Sam get into the truck, giving you two a moment alone. “Yeah?”

“Look, I’m sorry for my behavior.”

“It’s okay. I get it.”

“Are you absolutely sure this is what you want? You don’t want to, I don’t know, slow down?”

“I know what I want.” Even he doesn’t believe his words fully. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

He gets into the truck and leaves without another word. You turn and head back inside the apartment, not even shocked to see Natasha here. Steve must have called her when he saw you close to freaking out. Bucky’s room looks so big when it’s empty.

“Have you ever stopped to ask yourself why you feel like this? Why you hate the idea of him being with Sharon?”

“You know why. You’ve heard the stories. She mistreated him. She took advantage of him.”

“Come on, that’s not the reason.” She follows you into your room. “Answer me this. If it were anyone else, would you feel this way?” You don’t answer because you both know your answer. “Maybe you should tell Bucky how you feel about him.”

“It doesn’t matter now. He’s gone and he’s not coming back.”

“Look, I’m going to sleep over tonight, but I have a few showings to get to. I’ll be back later, okay?”

“Take your time.”

You’re left alone in the loft, something that is never a good idea. Now that Bucky is gone, all you can think about is his empty room and Reese. He seems like a sensible roommate, but you’re not going to stop fighting Bucky until all his things are unpacked. Not until you know he is happy with her.

On the drive, all Bucky can think about is you. Is he making a huge mistake? Did he choose the wrong woman? He doesn’t even know if you’re an option, so there’s no one to choose between. Sharon is the only one who has shown him interest, but she’s not the one with whom he has spent almost every night.

His mind is confused, blurry with images of you and Sharon. He truly doesn’t know what he wants, but if he wants to get over the idea of you, then he has to do this. Regardless, that doesn’t calm his mind. In fact, it only makes him panic more. Instead of driving straight to his new place, he keeps driving and drives onto the freeway.

“What are you doing?” Steve asks.

“I’m freaking out!”

Bucky drives straight until he can’t go straight anymore, and then he parks on some cliff that overlooks a desert valley. He gets out and walks to the edge of the cliff, just staring at the valley below. Steve and Sam watch with worried glances. Not worried because they think he’ll jump, but worried that Bucky is making a mistake he won’t be able to get out of easily.

“Look, Buck, this was a nice day trip, I’m sure, but I don’t normally drive one hundred and fifty miles out of my way for nothing. Look, let’s just get back in the car and go home,” Sam suggests.

“Yeah, we should,” Bucky whispers.

You’re about to go out of damn mind when you get a call from Sam. Natasha is back and is making herself comfortable on your bed.

“Hey, how is the new apartment looking? Does it reek of desperation and compromise?”

“I wouldn’t know. Bucky drove us to the middle of nowhere and threw the keys like a goddamn sociopath. We’re stranded.”

“What?” you ask, alarmed.

“Yeah, we’re gonna need you to come get us.”

“Fine. We’re on our way.” You hang up. “Apparently, Bucky freaked out, and they’re in the desert. Maybe he doesn’t want to live with her. I knew this was going to happen. You’re coming with me. Grab some water bottles for the guys.”

“Cool. I’ve never done it in a desert before.”

“No weird sex things with Steve.”

One hundred and fifty miles later, you pull up to the same clearing where the moving truck is, and the boys look grateful.

“Thank God. I did not want to spend a night out here,” Steve shudders.

You pass out the water bottles to the boys. “Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah. Look, if we leave now, we’ll get to Sharon at eight.”

“Wait, you’re still going back to her?” you ask.

“Yeah. I had a moment, but I’m good now. We’ll just come back for the truck tomorrow.”

No. If you drive back now, he’s going to live with her and ruin his life. No, he needs a night to think about what he is missing. You don’t want to do what Bucky did because you’re not an idiot, but if you pretend to throw your keys, then he’ll be forced to stay here. He’ll be forced to think about what he’s trading in for a life with Sharon.

“How are you gonna get there?” you ask.

“You’re going to drive me.”

“Kinda of hard to do that without keys.”

You run to the cliff’s edge and pull your hand back. With a slight of hand, you transferred the keys to your other hand and throw the empty fist out. Everyone is too far to not see the keys, so they all think you’ve thrown them.

“What are you doing?” Steve yells first, followed by protests from the others.

You slip the keys into your pocket before turning around. “What?”

“What do you mean, what? Why the fuck would you throw your keys?” Bucky asks.

“Sorry, my hand slipped.”

Now that the gang is forced to camp out here for the night, the back door to the moving truck is opened, and Bucky’s things are laid out to create a cozy campsite. No fire, but the few furniture items are out. One of his bed sheets is tied to the top of the truck to the top of two lamps to create a flimsy roof. Other items are scattered around to make a makeshift bedroom.

Bucky, of course, packed a cooler full of beers, so everyone is lounging around drinking beers and making lemons out of lemonade. You look through one of the boxes and grin when you see one of Bucky’s cassette tapes.

“Look what I found!” You grin and hold up the tape. “Let’s see what’s on this bad boy.”

You put the cassette tape into his battery-powered radio, and 80s music crackles to life. “Time After Time” by Cindi Lauper starts playing, and you all sway softly to the music. This goes on for hours, even with the sun already below the horizon. Just sitting back, listening to good music, and being in each other’s company. This is what Bucky is going to miss, and you’re going to make this the best last night possible if he is going to continue to see Sharon.

Madonna’s “Crazy For You” comes on, and you look at Bucky who is laughing with Sam. It’s true. You’re crazy for him, and he doesn’t even know it. Steve and Natasha are sitting together on the couch with his arm around her shoulder and a beer in the other hand.

“I’m gonna miss this. All of us just hanging out together.”

Bucky pauses when he feels the weight of his words. He can’t believe he’s been so blind.

“Alright, I’ll give it to you. You got me. I see what you guys are doing. You’re trying to force me to remember how great it is that we’re all hanging out so I won’t want to leave.”

“We’re just having fun, Bucky,” you say.

“I get it. I haven’t always made good decisions, but this isn’t that. This isn’t some mistake.”

He sets his beer down and walks off.

“Bucky, where are you going?” you ask.

“To find my keys.”

He walks off alone, and you debate whether you should follow him or not. You stay planted on the dirt and watch him disappear further into the valley. Natasha nudges Steve and gestures to you with a tip of her chin. He pats her knee, kisses her cheek, and walks over to you.

“Hey, you doing alright?”

“No. I hate this whole thing.”

“You like him, right?” You start to deny it, but Steve sees right through you. “Come on. It’s me. It’s just us. You like him, right?” This time, you nod with tears in your eyes. “Do you care about him?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want him to be happy?”

“Yes, Steve,” you huff out in frustration.

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but when you care about someone, you do what’s best for them… even if it sucks for you.”

His words weigh heavily on your mind. All you ever want for Bucky is for him to be happy. If he’s happy with Sharon, then so be it. It’s time to stop playing.

“Thanks,” you whisper. “I’m gonna go find him.” You walk in the direction that Bucky went, and you see him using his phone’s flashlight to search for the keys. “Hey, Bucky? Come on, we’ll look for the keys in the morning.”

Bucky sighs and looks at you. “I don’t want to come back, Y/N. I want to be in my new bed in my new apartment with my new old girlfriend.”

“I get it, Bucky. I’ll help you look for the keys.”

After thirty minutes of looking, you’re no closer to finding the keys. Yes, you have yours in your pocket, but he needs those keys if he is going to get the truck out of here.

“Why did you keep driving, Bucky?”

He pauses and looks away from you. There aren’t any clouds preventing the moonlight from shining down, and his eyes have never looked so blue as they do right now.

“I’m not talking about this with you. I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t want to hear it.”

“No, you don’t.” He looks at you. “You don’t know what I’m going to say.” Bucky parts his lips as he waits for you to continue. “I want you to be happy, and if that means moving in with Sharon, I think you should do it.”

“Really? You really think I should do it?”

“Yes.”

“I think you need me too much.”

“I’m gonna be fine. Do you know why?” He doesn’t answer. “Because I met you.” He briefly glances down at your lips. “That’s why I’m gonna be okay.” Bucky steps closer to you. “Come on. We’ll look for the keys in the morning.”

Right. The keys. Back to Sharon. The night is cold but you make it until morning without incident. The keys are lost, but Bucky was able to call a tow truck to come get his things. While he is on the phone, you’re off to the side with your keys in hand. This is for Bucky’s happiness.

“I found my keys!” you yell to the others and hold your keys up.

“Finally!”

The truck is packed and hooked up to the tow truck when they arrive. You drive the one hundred and fifty miles back to Bucky’s new place in silence. Everyone is tired and aching from the awkward sleeping positions. Everyone piles out of the car to give Bucky a proper goodbye. Sam and Steve are first, followed by Natasha. The last one is you, and you step closer to Bucky. Everyone is back inside the car, but the windows are rolled down so they can hear what you say.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“As long as you’re happy, right?”

Bucky barely nods. “Yeah.”

You pull Bucky in for a hug and rub his back. “Listen, make sure Sharon knows you like sleeping with the fan on full blast. I also made sure to slip in some of that lotion you like because I know the skin where it meets your metal arm is sore sometimes. Oh, and I left some coupons in a box for more of that deli meat you like, so you can have that with your eggs. Oh, and if she has one of those key hooks, make sure to use it. You’re always losing your keys.”

Bucky can’t believe what he’s hearing. You’re gone before he can say anything else. The loft feels empty without Bucky, and you sit on the couch in defeat. This is for him. It’s because he’s happy, and that’s all you ever want him to be. After a shower, Steve sits next to you.

“It’s not like you’ll never see him again.”

“It’s not the same.”

That night, you’re folding your laundry when you notice something outside your window. You push your curtains aside and gasp when you see Bucky’s moving truck parked outside. The front door closes, and you turn to see Bucky leaning against the doorframe.

“I broke it off with Sharon. It was never going to work anyway.”

You bite back a smile, but you can’t really hide it. Not like you’re trying too hard.

“Welcome home.”

x

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[luvelola]

“UP WITH THE SUN”

military!rafe x fem!black!reader , masterlist

warnings: fluff, animals, parenting, mild language, southern domestic sweetness, mentions of dirt/chores, implied canon-level affection between rafe & yn.

the rooster started at 6:13 a.m.

right on time.

rafe grunted once and rolled over, arm tightening around yn’s waist, hand resting low on her belly. she was warm, and the bed was softer than the chill in the air outside. but farm life didn’t wait for nobody.

“sun’s up, mama,” he murmured against her neck.

yn mumbled something about “you get up first.”

but a second later, two thuds hit the floor — five-year-old feet.

miles came sprinting in, wild curls and dinosaur pajamas still askew.

“daddy! zara’s sittin’ on biscuit again!”

“shit—alright, alright.”

🐓 morning rounds

the family farm was small but full of life — fenced in by oaks, soaked in sunlight, with dirt paths that led to every corner. every animal had a name, and every chore had a helper.

horses:

nova — a chestnut mare that yn grew up riding, calm as still water

tank — a big gray draft horse that rafe brought home from a base upstate

miles and rafe handled the feed buckets.

“you always gotta talk to ‘em first,” rafe told him. “let ‘em know you comin’.”

“hi nova,” miles said, solemn, “please don’t poop while i’m here.”

yn laughed from across the fence, brushing nova’s coat with one hand while holding zara with the other.

goats:

ruby and dot — spotted, noisy, and too smart for the latch on their pen.

zara loved them the most, even if they tried to eat her sleeve every time she got close.

yn crouched by the fence with zara in her lap, holding out carrot pieces.

“gentle now, baby,” she whispered, guiding her daughter’s hand. “you gotta be soft with the ones that don’t talk.”

“dot stinky,” zara announced proudly.

“she sure is,” yn laughed.

chickens:

rosie, drumstick, cleo, and big mama

biscuit chased them, shadow herded them

egg duty belonged to rafe and miles

“i see three!” miles called, holding up the basket.

“good. that’s enough for breakfast,” rafe nodded. “put ‘em in soft, like we said.”

“can i make the pancakes?”

“we’ll see if your mama lets you stir.”

dogs:

shadow (black lab) was already patrolling the fence line.

biscuit (terrier mix) was covered in straw, hiding under the porch after zara sat on him again.

🍳 farm-to-table

back inside, yn had the griddle hot.

miles stood on his step stool, whisking a bowl with flour up his nose. zara sat on the counter, sticky fingers dipping into the sugar jar. rafe cracked eggs one-handed and kissed yn’s cheek every time he passed her.

“that one’s too brown,” she said.

“just how i like it,” he smirked, flipping another.

“baby, if you burn that one, you makin’ the next batch.”

“say less.”

the dogs waited by the table like they owned the place.

biscuit barked once.

shadow growled low, her way of saying “sit down, fool.”

after, plates were full — eggs from their hens, goat cheese from ruby and dot, pancakes with blackberry jam yn made last summer. butter melted in the center of everything. coffee for the adults, apple juice for the kids.

miles talked through mouthfuls. zara dropped her fork twice. rafe reached over to wipe jam from yn’s chin.

yn looked around — flour on the counter, dirt on everyone’s boots, love in every corner.

a/n; just a cute little domestic scene of the family while rafe is home from deployment!!

comment to be added to tag list..

©luvelola. do not plagiarize or repost any of my work as your own.

[punksyeet]

- I Hate You, I Love You ❥

Plot: “Will I ever be happy again?”

Warning: Mature language, toxicity, heartbreak, & angst!

a/n: for some reason, i’ve been super motivated to write jimmy lately. this doesn’t happen a lot, so i’m taking advantage of it while it lasts. this is sad and super short, but i promise there will be a much longer part two. this is kinda just the backstory….if that makes sense??? enjoy. 🤍

———————————————————————————————

May 29th, 2025.

Exactly a year ago today, I felt the most pain I’ve ever experienced in my life.

I got cheated on by the one man that I loved the most in this world: Jonathan Fatu.

You’d think that a guy at his big age would be loyal by the time your three year anniversary rolls around, but nope.

Just hours after he kissed me goodbye and drove off to do a house show here in Florida, I got a text.

And, as you can probably guess, it was a photo.

A photo of the man I loved making out with some weak, zero-pop having bitch from NXT.

When I tell you my heart shattered.

And when I confronted him about it? He turned into an entirely new person. Someone I’ve never met before. And sure as hell not the man I loved and gave my heart to.

Just bullshit lie after bullshit lie.

“What the fuck you goin’ on about?”

“Baby, that wasn’t me. You forgettin’ I have a twin?”

“Ion even know her like that.”

“I ain’t got time to be kissin’ on some damn NXT hoe.”

And when I called him out on said bullshit lies?

“Nah, you trippin’ girl.”

“You ain’t gotta believe me. Ion give a fuck.”

“I’m leavin’ this damn house. Fuck her and you.”

And he did.

He never came back.

Since the minute that door closed, I haven’t been the same.

No more weekend partying with my girlfriends, who haven’t reached out in months due to me never answering my phone.

No more wrestling shows, which I found a ton of joy in while watching my ex compete in and dominate the tag division with his brother Josh.

I haven’t even shown up to my job which, coincidentally, is a photographer for WWE that he got me.

To sum it up, life has been absolute hell since he walked out of my front door. Of our front door.

I’d never admit it to anyone, but my stupid ass misses him. A lot.

Behind the toxicity, there was love. Real, genuine love.

Surprise and “just because” dinner dates.

Flower bouquets being either sent or brought home to me every night because he “appreciated my support always”.

Late night discussions - both in person and over the phone - about getting married and growing old together.

Making love to me whenever he saw me after days of being apart. Not just sex. Making love.

And now? Nothing.

It feels like the world around me is just dull.

And without him it’ll never go back to normal.

———————————————————————————————

** Jon’s POV **

“Uce, you alright?” my twin Josh asks, fixing his hair with a spray bottle in the mirror of our locker room.

I let out a deep sigh, running a hand down my face and resting my elbows on my knees. “Yeah. I’m alright, man.”

“No you ain’t,” he replies, taking a seat next to me on our sofa. “You missin’ her again, huh?”

Why do I even bother lying to this fool?

He knows me better than anyone.

When I don’t answer, he continues.

“Why don’t you go see her after the show? Just one more time? One last time to try and make shit right?”

I chew on my bottom lip, thinking for a minute.

Today marks a year since the worst mistake of my life.

The day I betrayed my lady.

The one woman that cared about me and showed me genuine love in this entire fucked up world.

She was my everything. And I was hers.

Up until a couple months ago, when I finally read the room and realized she wanted nothing to do with me, I been acting a fool.

Endless texts, calls, random bouquets to her house, hell even emails.

Nothing.

And I don’t blame her.

Maybe Josh is right.

I need to try. Just one last time.

I nod, slowly. “I’ll try, uce.”

He claps me on the back and leaves our room, shutting the door behind him.

I let out a deep sigh before getting up and heading over to the mirror to get ready for our match.

———————————————————————————————

“Hey mom,” I say, placing my phone down against a candle on my kitchen island.

“Hey baby doll. How are you doing?”

I sigh, shrugging slightly. “I’m alive.”

She gives me an empathetic smile. “Damn right you are. And I’m proud of you, honey.”

When I show no reaction, she continues.

“I know this is a rough day for you, and this might not be what you want to hear…”

I take a deep breath, one that she can’t hear.

“But sweetie, you need to move on. If that man loved you, he would’ve never done what he did. And you know it.”

My nostrils flare and I blink back a singular tear.

“Honey?”

I shake my head, tucking my lips in.

I can’t have this talk with her. Not now. Not today.

“I have to go, mom.”

“Gia-“

The sound of a FaceTime call hanging up echoes throughout my kitchen.

And shortly after, I break down.

With all the force in the world, I swing at a glass filled with water and it flies across the room, eventually smashing against the refrigerator and to the floor.

Why the fuck did he have to hurt me this way?

I’ve only ever shown him love. What did I do to deserve this?

Back against the wall, I slide down and tuck my face into my knees.

Will I ever be happy again?

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[sexisbetteronthemoon]

im seeing a lot of mentions of keith grovelling on my tl on twitter so i wanted to ask how do you think keith should grovel for lance post canon? a common take i see is lance giving up on keith and most of his passions in general just as keith finally gets his shit together and the roles basically turns where keith chases lance instead while lance doesn’t know what to make of it.

thanks for the question. that's depressing as shit. my babygirl should never give up on what he loves.

this got away from me, so i'm putting it under a read more.

i don't really know all of what went down in the latter seasons, so i don't know exactly what Keith has to make up for.

i'm aware Lance becomes a farmer? or farmer-adjacent? but honestly, if i'm writing a post-fanon fic, i wouldn't put him as a farmer. or i would, but it'd be a hobby, not his main job, and he wouldn't farm as much as garden.

babygirl deserves to cultivate some life for sure, and if i can't make him pregnant, he's gotta grow some plants.

but as i was saying, i'd throw him into a school as a teacher. Lance is the ideal teacher. he loves kids and is very kind and patient. (he's just like blue fr..) he has a tendency to explain things to people when they're confused, which c'mon. voltron writers, why did you make him a farmer instead of a teacher? if he was done with piloting and fighting, is the only school the fucking garrison? couldn't put him in a daycare maybe? yes, he's a nurturer of life, but you can't give him all those amazing qualities and then throw him at dirt?

Lance is a creature who DESIRES LOVE AND AFFECTION.

plants are great and healing, but they don't love you. kids do. and Lance is also a SOCIAL creature. teacher is the only thing that makes sense!

okay but i digress. what were we talking about?

groveling, right.

Lance is a teacher and mourning Allura, i suppose? bc they fucking killed her? those ASSHOLES.

can i rewrite canon. i'm already scratching out farmer, can i just revive Allura and have them break up amicably?

fuck this, it's my story, Allura is alive and LIVING HER BEST LIFE. she and Lance realize they're not so great as lovers and split up, remaining as friends, if avoiding each other for a while.

Lance is single and Not In Mourning.

now Keith has been watching the Lance/Allura saga from the beginning and is texting Shiro, asking him:

how long is it appropriate to wait after a breakup before you're ready for another relationship?

shiro: hello?

shiro: what is this?

shiro: are you possessed

shiro: wait, i get it, someone stole your phone. haha, very funny!

Keith: it's me, loser. and i'm serious. how long before it's okay to ask someone out?

shiro: adam says half as long as they dated.

shiro: curtis wants to know when you're planning on visiting.

shiro: Keith?

Keith: not soon. gotta go.

let's not forget that at his core, Keith is a creature of instinct.

enough time has passed that it's not inappropriate to at least see about maybe an opportunity.

so Keith goes to pick up a plant, bc he knows Lance likes to garden. only when he asks for help, he's told by an employee that's not a good idea for hobby gardeners. he should get pots! plants always outgrow the pots they're in. instead of giving Lance something he might not want, pots would be helpful for any plants of his that need replanting!

great idea, Keith thinks, and he buys ten very nice pots of distan different sizes that the employee recommends. plus a venus flytrap bc he thinks it looks cool. if Lance doesn't want it, Keith will try his hand at gardening.

so Keith heads on over to Lance's place, and Lance answers the door.

“i didn't know you were dropping by,” Lance says with a smile. because it's Keith, his friend. any other feelings aside, he cares about Keith.

and Keith planned to take this slow. he planned to feel Lance out. catch a vibe and proceed from there.

but looking at Lance, so resplendent and beautiful, soft and warm, he goes to say hello. maybe crack a joke. maybe he'll say, “i got you some pots.” because that's safe enough.

instead, Keith says, “i'm in love with you.”

Lance stares.

“i think i hallucinated for a second there,” he says.  “what did you just say?”

cat's out of the bag. Keith might as well go for broke.

“i meant to take this slow, but i guess that's not happening,” Keith says wryly.  “i have feelings for you. also, i have pots for you. and this plant. but if you don't want the plant, i'll hang onto it, i thought it was cool.”

Lance looks down at the plant and says, “a venus  flytrap? yeah, that's cool.”

then he looks at Keith and says, “what the quiznak, Keith?”

“yeah,” Keith said. “i didn't mean to surprise you like that. i just -- i saw you. and i couldn't hold it in.”

Lance sighs and says, “i'm not doing this.”

“this what?” Keith asks.

“this, with you,” Lance clarifies. “trust me, we're better off as friends.”

Keith stares at him, baffled, and says, “so you're not even going to give me a chance --”

then he stops. he squints his eyes.

“you didn't say you don't feel the same,” he realizes.  “you have feelings for me!”

“fat lot of good that'll do you,” Lance said. “i've made up my mind. go away. i'll take the pots and the plant though. it is cool.”

“i'll go away,” Keith says as he brings in the pots and leaves the plant on Lance's kitchen table. “but i'll be back. i'm going to woo you, Lance McClain.”

“oh, i'd love to see that,” Lance says with a roll of his eyes.

“what's that supposed to mean?” Keith says.

“it means that in a week, you'll be out of here on some new mission,” Lance says tiredly. “it means you'll never be here with me, because there'll always be a mission, people to help, people who need you. and i want someone who wants to be here with me, and not out there. i won't date a ghost, Keith. so go. and don't come back unless you want to remain as friends.”

and Keith understands what Lance is asking of him. it's Lance, or his job.

“but people need help,” Keith says. “the war might be over for us, but that's not true of everyone.”

“i know,” Lance says softly. he meets Keith's eyes. “they need you more than i do, and that's okay. so go be a hero. you've always been really good at that. it's something i really admire about you, Keith.”

Keith doesn't know how to respond. he leaves.

and as Lance had guessed, he gets a call. he's needed for another aid mission. he's already gathering his stuff, packing up his things in his bag. and he stops.

acxa calls for him several times before he responds.

“i can't go,” he says.

acxa hums on her end, but doesn't reply.

“i want to stay,” he says.

*

two weeks later, Lance opens the door to Keith. he's surprised to see him. Keith should have been long gone. he's holding five pots of different sizes and a second venus flytrap.

“you already gave me a venus flytrap,” Lance says, a little confused, and he can't help the exhilaration that rushes through him at seeing Keith still here. he's not gone. he's not taking another mission.

he's here.

“i didn't want it to be lonely,” Keith says. “do plants get lonely?”

that's … really cute. fuck. damn Keith!

Lance sighs and takes the plant. he gestures for Keith to come on in.

“over there by the door is fine,” he says pointing to the back door.

Keith walks over and sets the pots down.

“why are you here?” Lance asks.

“you said you didn't want to date a ghost,” Keith said. “so here i am. not a ghost.”

Lance purses his lips and crosses his arms.

“you're still on that then?” he says.

“i told you i was gonna woo you,” Keith replies with a roguish grin that makes Lance's heart race.

“so you didn't take one mission, big whoop,” Lance said.

“i quit,” Keith says, and Lance stares.

“you're kidding,” Lance responds numbly.  “tell me you're kidding!”

“no,” Keith says.  “i quit. kind of.”

“kind of?” Lance says incredulously.

“i work at the branch here now,” Keith says. “i'm going to train those who work for us in combat. i'm an instructor. no more missions, but i'm still helping.”

for a long moment, Lance stares at him.

then he braces himself and says, “did you think it was going to be that easy?”

Keith's hopeful smile falls.

“you said --” he starts.

“the not being here was only a part of it,” Lance says. “you know there's more to it.”

“what more?” Keith asks.

“'i don't have time for this, Lance!'” Lance exclaims in a startling mimicry of Keith. “ringing any bells?”

Keith winces. ding, ding, ding! he got it.

“or how about -- and this one's my favorite -- 'i just don't want to be stuck here for eternity with Lance'.” Lance raises a pointed eyebrow at Keith. and Keith grimaces.

“i wasn't going to spout my feelings for you for some asshole's entertainment!” Keith objects.

“and yet,” Lance said, “you never apologized. for anything you did. you just moved on and forgot about it.” he scoffed. “well, guess what? i still remember.”

“Lance, i'm sorry, believe me,” Keith says. “let me make it up to you.”

“just go home, Keith,” Lance says with a tired sigh.

“you are my home,” Keith says softly.

and damn it all, but Lance's heart skips a beat.

“i'm going to make it up to you, Lance,” Keith says. “even if it takes my entire life.”

“just go,” Lance requests.

and Keith leaves.

but he comes back.

day after day, he comes back. he brings flowers, treats, Kosmo for space puppy cuddles, and he doesn't let up. he visits Lance at the school and all of Lance's kids are amazed that Keith came to visit. they all want to know everything about the battles he's been through because Lance won't tell them anything.

Keith tells them about Lance. he tells them of everything Lance did that saved team Voltron. he tells them stories of Lance taking out soldiers who were about to “uh, bonk me on the head,” Keith says with a wince because these are children.

Lance stands strong, however, and continues to turn Keith away.

then, on a night when the weather is raging and it's clearly not a good idea to venture out, Keith shows up.

he's soaked through and he's still smiling when Lance opens the door and ushers him inside.

“are you insane?” Lance demands. “it's a tropical storm!”

Keith shrugs and says, “i wanted to see you.”

and Lance can't take it anymore!

his heart is not strong enough!

“what do you want from me?” Lance asks, helpless.

“you,” Keith replies sincerely. “i just want you. for the rest of my life.”

and Lance is tired of fighting against his own feelings. so he walks over and he kisses Keith, hands in his wet hair and the smell of rain in his nose. the storm rages on, but Lance doesn't care. he's finally getting what he's always wanted.

[spikesbunny]

☆ STAR 69

+ warnings: wlw content!! modern au, friends with benefits, mutual mⱥsturbⱥtion, phone sɇx, mentions of fingering

+ ft: nico robin x fem reader

+ wc: 1.2k

+ an: happy pride month to all my fellow lgbt+ folks <3 i wanted to kick off pride month with one of my favorite op girlies (as well as ayesha erotica's newest release)!!

minors + men DNI!

whenever you needed someone, robin was there. always.

she never questioned a thing. her loyalty was like no other to you. coffee dates just to chat, random shopping sprees, late nights tangled in bed. sometimes you two would even shower together.

that was all normal in friendships. but the heat eating at your gut was not.

anytime you saw her, your stomach erupted into butterflies, heat flying up to your cheeks. cuddling with her at night had your cunt growing damp with arousal, nipples hardening into peaks with every soft exhale of hers.

for fucks sake, you had a boyfriend!! these feelings for robin were so new, yet the felt so right. you were well aware robin was a lesbian, and you yourself were bi.

but dating your friend? that was insane! imagine all that could go wrong??

you never said you couldn't practice things with her. kissing, making out, you could always count on her to help improve your techniques.

her lips were always so soft against yours, tongue and mouth so inviting. you couldn't help but get into it, despite it being practice.

she never complained once. her face would always be flushed as you pulled away, chest panting with each labored breath.

she was just helping right?? like the time she showed you how to properly finger yourself, since your useless boyfriend barely got you off. she treated you better than he did.

but she was just a friend.

tonight was no different. you called robin up, in need of her time. her voice.

your boyfriend had fucked up again. who else could you turn to but robin? she always had the right answers, always had the tools to help you regather your thoughts.

you press *69 on the phone. her number appears on the screen. your finger presses the call button, bringing the device up to your ear. it barely rings before she picks up.

"what's up?" her voice coos from over the line.

"robin, hey-" you start, before she cuts you off. she knew.

"what did he do this time" not a question, a command.

"ugh, robin, he's so dumb! i don't know how many times i have to show him how to make me cum, he just, he never listens!!" you exclaim, lounging out on the sheets of your bed as you talk to her on the phone.

a soft 'mm' of thought sounds from her side. "he's a moron. i don't understand why you don't break up with him yet..."

"okay, he doesn't understand my body, but he's still nic-"

"you and i know that's a lie." she cuts off again. you can envision her smile in your mind as she goes on. "not only is he terrible in bed, selfishly so, he also never gets you anything! when has he ever taken you out to a nice date? you know he has that kind of money."

she had a point. you pause, going silent. she was right, robin was right, robin was always right.

your boyfriend was shit. you wouldn't let him ruin this night, or any other nights for that fact.

"what's going through the pretty head of yours?" robin coos.

"texting him. we're through."

"atta girl."

"thanks robin. gotta go, i'mma go fucking finger myself and pray that it gets me off." you say, going to hang up.

"wait" she calls. you pause, thumb hovering over the button. "huh?"

"i said wait." she pauses. "tell me, are you in that pretty pink lingerie set i picked out with you?"

you gulp. "uhm, yea, why?"

"oh, just curious. wanted to imagine what your wearing as you touch yourself" she replies calmly, like what she said wasn't the most random thing in the world.

"huh??"

"i said, i wanna imagine what your wearing as i think about you touching yourself."

oh. oh. your face flushes at her words, arousal slowly slicking up the pretty pink lacey panties you had bought with her - originally for your boyfriend. now they were robin's.

"has he ever had phone sex with you?" she questions.

"no. never... why?"

"wanna try it? ya know, for practice."

practice, right. that's all this was. just like the kissing, and the making out, and the fingering. all just practice with robin. nothing more, nothing less. yet why did it turn you on so much.

"s-sure" you choke out.

"good. now, i want you to rub your finger over your slit and clit. through the lingerie. work yourself up a bit. make pretty noises into the phone for me." she purrs out, her words like gasoline to the fire in your gut. you nod, hitching a breath as you drag your fingers across your soaked panties.

robin chuckles softly from the other line, the sounds of her shorts being shifted down her thighs. you could picture it, the soft fabric of her sleep shorts slowly inching down her plush, tanned thighs. it was really making you needy.

"good, good. slip them to the side, and tease yourself." she coos at you, her breath hitching as you hear a finger dip into herself. fuck, she's getting herself off, just like me....

"now what?" you gasp out, her commands and your ministrations rapidly affecting you. you felt like you could cum from this alone. but you'd hold off, until she said you could.

"press one finger in. just one." she ask, the sounds of her fingers dipping in and out of her cunt sounding softly in the background of the line.

you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth, obliging. slowly, you move your finger, in and out, curling up to press the spot inside you - the one robin showed you how to manipulate.

in all honesty, you were mimicking how she fingered you. because that's all you could think of when getting yourself off. you thought it was because she taught you. in reality, it was because you craved her.

"add a second" her voice calls from the other side, snapping you back to your thoughts, earning her a soft moan as you slide in a second, continuing your thrust. the sounds from both your and her fingers grew louder, both of you panting into the other's speakers.

"f-fuck, now brush your clit for me" she groans. your head falls back into the pillows as you whine, hips rutting against your hand, wishing it was hers, using her devil fruit power on you. but it wasn't, at least for now.

"so close" you whimper into the line, earning a choked chuckle. "me as well... cum for me?" robin ask.

you can't deny her, moaning her name as your pussy spasms around your fingers, phone slipping from your hand. you can hear her own orgasm from the other line, her pants resounding through the speaker.

"shit... did so well for me... much better than that loose screw of a boyfriend, hm?" she ask. you can practically hear her smirk.

"yea.. way better."

"clean yourself up. i'll help you move his shit out of your apartment tomorrow... good night, my love." the line goes silent, robin hanging up.

she had officially broken you. you weren't going to confront her about this tomorrow... but maybe you could initiate a more physical round?

©2025 spikesbunny- please do not repost/translate my works on other media sites ♡

[cherrywriterrr]

psych 203 six

college!rafe x pinkhaired!oc

warnings: 18+ mdni. angst. miscommunication. sexual themes implied. heavy cursing. pregnancy scare/pregnancy care. dirty jokes. jealousy. toxic flirting. emotional damage. rafe being rafe. nova being nova. arguments. tension. chaotic girl friendships. talking dirty about others. casual mentions of hookups. soft vulnerable moments under all the layers of chaos.

five six seven

nova barged into sarah’s dorm like she was born for chaos.

“okay, slut, what’s the emergen—” she stopped short, eyebrows lifting as she spotted sarah pacing like a literal cartoon character in an anxiety spiral.

hair a mess, hoodie slipping off her shoulder, mascara smudged like she had already cried at least once.

���sarah?” nova asked slowly, voice dipping with something close to concern. “baby, you good?”

sarah looked at her, wide-eyed, and said four words that could end lives “i think i’m pregnant.”

nova blinked. blinked again.

“oh you’re so fucked.” she finally said, lips twitching upward into a grin. “don’t worry. i’ll raise it. it’s okay. it can call me auntie mommy or mommy auntie. i’m fine with either.”

sarah let out a breath that was half-laugh, half-sob. “nova, shut up. i don’t know what to do. i’m scared to even buy a test.”

nova dropped her bag. walked over. took her hands. looked her in the eye.

“i’ll go. wouldn’t be the first time for me.”

sarah blinked. “wait what—”

“i said what i said.” nova shrugged. “anyway. what the fuck did john b do to you? raw dogged your soul?”

sarah groaned, sinking to the bed. “we… didn’t really use protection. for a while now. i know, i know—”

nova’s face was judging but loving. “baby. no wonder you’re acting like a broken sim.”

“do not turn this into a meme.”

nova pulled out her phone. “too late.”

fifteen minutes later, she was at the pharmacy down the street, hood up, sunglasses on like she was buying something illegal.

got the test. got a monster energy for herself. got strawberry milk for sarah because trauma needed sugar.

and as soon as she turned the corner back to campus—rafe fucking cameron. leaning against the bench like some villain-turned-heartthrob.

great.

she really didn’t need his bone structure right now.

“yo,” he said lazily. eyes dropping to the bag in her hand. then up. eyes narrowing.

“what’s that?”

“not your business, baby girl.” nova shot back without hesitation, brushing past him.

but rafe turned, walking backward beside her. “is it drugs?”

nova deadpanned. “do i look like i’d pay for drugs when i can flirt my way into getting them for free?”

“wow.” he grinned. “impressive.”

“thank you.”

pause.

rafe’s voice dipped lower. curious. maybe a little too perceptive.

“you good, pinkie? you look… tense.”

nova rolled her eyes. “you make me tense.”

rafe raised his hands in surrender. “hey, i’ve been nothing but sweet lately. even walked your drunk ass home.”

nova gave him a look. “you called me unlikable in front of a full classroom.”

“that was a joke,” he muttered, looking away.

“yea well,” nova snapped. “i’m still not laughing.”

rafe looked like he wanted to say something else, but her phone buzzed, and it was sarah again.

nova turned on her heel. “gotta go. girl emergency. go be bald somewhere else.”

“so hostile,” he called after her.

she didn’t turn back—but he swore he saw the corners of her mouth twitch.

back at the dorm, sarah was curled on the bed, legs bouncing.

nova threw her the bag. “test. also strawberry milk. and a lollipop. ‘cause trauma.”

sarah’s eyes filled with tears. “i love you.”

“i know.” nova sat beside her. “now go pee on the stick and find out if you’re having a baby pogue.”

sarah groaned and grabbed the test. “this is the worst day of my life.”

nova leaned back, blowing a strand of pink hair from her face.

“nah,” she muttered. “that’ll be when it starts calling you mommy.”

“okay, i’m peeing now,” sarah announced, sitting on the toilet like she was about to give a TED talk instead of possibly find out she was knocked up by her dumbass boyfriend.

“i’m holding your hand,” nova replied, firmly gripping her fingers like they were crossing into a war zone together.

“this is the most intimate moment of my life,” sarah muttered, staring at the little plastic stick between her thighs.

nova snorted. “girl, you’ve literally been railed by john b on the top bunk while i was asleep under you. intimacy is out the fucking window.”

sarah choked on a laugh and squeezed nova’s hand tighter. “okay, well… this still feels different.”

“i got you,” nova said softly, tone shifting. “you’re not doing this alone.”

they both stared at the test stick like it was a cursed artifact.

“how long do we wait?” sarah asked, eyes wide.

“like, three minutes,” nova said, checking her phone. “which means we have two minutes and fifty-five seconds to panic.”

sarah dropped her head onto nova’s shoulder, half-laughing, half-crying. “i love you, you know that?”

nova kissed the top of her head. “yea, yea, i’m your emotional support whore.”

they sat there, squished together in the cramped dorm bathroom, nova’s pink hair half in sarah’s face, the pregnancy test sitting on the sink like a tiny bomb.

and for the first time that day, nova wasn’t thinking about rafe. or layla.

or being too much.

just this moment.

two girls. one maybe-baby. one very real friendship. and a stick that could change everything.

sarah hadn’t looked up from the test.

her bottom lip was between her teeth, eyes wide, body tense, like if she stared long enough it’d give her the answer she wanted. nova didn’t say anything at first. just let the silence be there. held her hand like it was the only thing tethering them both to the floor.

finally, nova whispered, “hey.”

sarah blinked, tearing her eyes away from the stick and looking at her best friend.

nova’s pink hair was all messy from how she’d woken up and immediately ran to her, hoodie slipping off one shoulder, no makeup, just real. soft. there.

“whatever you do,” nova said seriously, her voice low, “i support you. abortion or not. baby or not. hormones, tears, cravings, breakdowns, dragging john b by his stupid hair down the hallway—you’ve got me.”

sarah’s eyes glassed over.

“and if you do have it,” nova added, trying to lift the mood, “it better call me auntie nona.”

sarah furrowed her brows, confused. “nona?”

nova smirked. “yea. ‘cause i’m nova. nona. auntie nona, bitch. get with it.”

sarah burst out laughing through the tears and nearly knocked the test off the sink.

“god, you’re so fucking annoying,” she wheezed, pulling nova into a shaky hug.

nova hugged back tightly, whispering into her hair, “annoying and loyal. unbeatable combo.”

the silence was thick.

both nova and sarah stared down at the little stick sitting on the bathroom sink like it was a damn nuke.

then—one line.

just one.

“negative,” sarah breathed, her voice small.

nova blinked. once. twice. and then—“OH MY FUCKING GOD—”

she jumped, practically launched herself into the air, spinning in a circle like it was the fourth of july.

“i’m so happy, holy shit,” nova shouted, arms flailing. “because jesus, sarah, you’re a fucking alcoholic. that baby would’ve come out with like… three teeth and a nicotine addiction.”

“nova!” sarah groaned, but she was laughing, relief pouring out of her in shaky giggles.

“i’m serious,” nova kept going, eyes wide, dramatic as hell. “like one arm and a craving for tequila out the womb. you’re not built for motherhood yet, baby girl.”

sarah threw a towel at her.

nova caught it mid-air and spun it like a victory flag. “auntie nona lives to party another day!”

sarah slumped onto the closed toilet lid, head falling back, her hand pressed to her chest like she just avoided death itself. “oh thank fuck,” she breathed out, wide-eyed and still a little pale.

nova leaned against the sink, crossing her arms with a smug little tilt to her lips. “well, now at least you’ve learned your lesson, baby.”

sarah raised an eyebrow. “and that would be?”

nova pointed at her like a disappointed guidance counselor. “wrap it before you tap it.”

sarah groaned. “shut up.”

“no, no. seriously.” nova held up her hands. “condom. plan b. prayer. i don’t care what you do, just don’t raw dog your way into motherhood again.”

sarah mumbled, “you’re insufferable.”

nova smirked. “and yet, you’d let me raise your accidental child.”

“i wouldn’t trust you with a cactus.”

“rude. i’d name it something cute at least. like… tequila sunrise.”

“that’s literally the drink that almost got me pregnant.”

“full circle, baby.”

an hour later, nova was sprawled across the empty bleachers of the college football field, one leg kicked up, the other dangling, a cigarette lit between her fingers and a nearly-warm red bull resting by her thigh.

her film camera sat in her lap, a few new polaroids already shoved into the back pocket of her shorts—some of clouds, some of her shoes, one blurry selfie. she scribbled messily in her notebook beside her, lyrics or thoughts or insults she might use later. it was unclear.

the sky was that kind of overcast blue-grey that looked like it wanted to storm but couldn’t commit.

perfect mood.

she took a drag from her cigarette just as a flash of movement caught her eye.

on the field, there he was.

black sleeveless shirt clinging to his torso, damp with sweat, muscles flexing as he jogged down the turf, football in hand, brows furrowed like he was mad at the air itself.

nova narrowed her eyes, tilted her head.

“he runs angry,” she muttered under her breath, amused.

then, without thinking—without caring—

she cupped her hand around her mouth and yelled “yo, pinkie pie!”

rafe slowed to a stop, chest rising and falling, and looked up toward the bleachers.

spotted her. cigarette. notebook. camera. thighs out.

his face said no fucking way.

her grin said oh, yes fucking way.

he stood there on the field for a second, helmet tucked under one arm, sweat slicking his neck, eyes squinting up at her like she was a problem he didn’t wanna solve.

then—annoyingly slow—he jogged over, every step deliberate, every flex of his arms reminding her he clearly didn’t skip gym days.

he stopped at the base of the bleachers, tilted his head, and said in that low, so-you-wanna-start kind of tone “what.”

nova grinned, took another drag, then leaned forward on her elbows lazily.

“you still mad about that comment about your daddy?”

she said it too casually, voice light like she wasn’t poking at the one wound she knew might still be bleeding.

his jaw clenched. subtle. barely.

but she saw it. and that made her smile widen.

he scoffed, stepped back like her words were smoke he didn’t want to inhale. “nah, i don’t care about your opinion, pinkie.”

dry. cold. like he was trying real hard not to care.

nova raised a brow, lips twitching at the corner.

“bullshit. it hurt you, didn’t it?”

that did it.

his eyes snapped up to hers, and whatever patience he had cracked like glass.

“you couldn’t hurt me even if you really tried to. you’re not that important, baby.”

the words landed harder than she expected.

they sat between them for a moment—sharp, cutting, cruel.

nova blinked once. then again. and finally, she stood up, flicking her cigarette to the ground like she was done playing nice.

“funny.”

her voice was lower now, steady, almost too calm.

“neither was she, right? the one who fucked you up. but she still got to you.”

she turned to leave, tossing a sharp look over her shoulder.

“maybe i’m not important, rafe. but you sure as fuck act like i could be.”

and just like that, nova walked away, head high, heart pounding like hell.

her words hadn’t even faded into the air when rafe snapped.

“sarah fucking told you, didn’t she?”

his voice was rising now, teeth clenched.”that fucking bitch—”

nova spun back around so fast it made him blink.

“don’t call her a fucking bitch, rafe.” her voice was venom. calm, but dangerous.

“because i will stick my burning cigarette in your fucking throat if you do.”

she didn’t flinch.didn’t even blink.

just stood there in her thrifted denim skirt, film camera hanging off her hip, pink hair pulled half-up, a lit cig between two fingers and fury in her eyes.

rafe didn’t say anything. he just stared.

and for a second, neither of them moved.

the tension between them? thick enough to drown in.

charged enough to set the whole damn football field on fire.

he ran a hand over his face, jaw tight.

“i guess i regret calling you that,” rafe muttered, low.

nova let out a dry laugh, no humor in it.

“oh, do you now?” she took a drag from her cigarette, eyes narrowing on him. “thought you didn’t care, cameron. thought no one could stand me, remember?”

his lips pressed into a hard line.

“because i do. i remember.”

she tapped ash onto the field grass, tone sharp.“funny how that shit sticks when it comes from someone who doesn’t care, huh?”

and then she turned away. just enough to break the stare.

but not enough to hide the way her jaw clenched.

“c’mon now,” rafe said, arms crossed. his voice was quieter, but still laced with attitude. “we don’t even know each other. why would you get mad at a little comment?”

nova froze. and then something cracked.

“you think it’s just a little comment?” she turned around so fast, the cigarette almost fell from her fingers. “you think i care what people i don’t know say to me?”

he didn’t answer. just blinked.

her voice rose—sharp and breaking. “i’ve been seen as annoying my whole fucking life, rafe!”

her chest rose and fell with rage.

“i didn’t even have friends until senior year! i used to eat lunch in the fucking bathroom because everyone said i was too much. too loud. too weird. too colorful. too everything.”

rafe looked stunned—caught.

“so yeah,” she spit, “when someone like you, who doesn’t even fucking know me, says shit like no one can stand me?” she pointed a shaking finger at her chest.”it hurts, cameron. it fucking hurts.”

silence fell between them.

“i didn’t mean it,” rafe said after a beat, his voice softer, quieter—almost sincere. “i stand you, y’know.”

“yea right,” nova scoffed, crossing her arms.

“yes, i do,” rafe shot back, stepping closer. “why the fuck would i stay with you until three am because you were drunk?”

“because you did a nice, normal thing. anyone would’ve done that,” nova said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“i don’t fucking do nice,” he said, voice low and rough. “ask anyone. ask topper, your friend. he knows it. i never did nice.”

“why’d you do it then?” nova asked, narrowing her eyes.

“i don’t know,” rafe shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. “felt right.”

nova smirked. “i know you talked to me while i was sleeping, y’know. sarah told me.”

rafes cheeks flushed, clearly embarrassed he got caught.

nova teased, “it’s kinda cute seeing you embarrassed, you know.”

“oh, shut up, pinkie,” rafe muttered, trying to hide his smile.

nova shot back, “i’d have said ‘make me,’ but honestly, i wouldn’t give you the pleasure of thinking i’d fuck you.”

“you sooo would,” he teased, smirking.

“i wouldn’t. i’d want you to fuck me. well, unless you wanna be pegged, baby,” she said with a wicked grin.

“fuck no,” he said, laughing.

“so you’d fuck me?” nova teased, raising an eyebrow.

rafe smirked, “maybe—if you’d stop calling me baby girl or that awful nickname.”

nova grinned wide, “pinkie pie? i called you that because, y’know, i’m pinkie and you’d creampie me.”

he raised an eyebrow, “why are you so damn sure i would?”

nova shrugged with a sly grin, “oh c’mon, everyone wants a piece of this pink-haired bitch. i’d have fucked you, baby. but i heard you fucked layla, and honestly—i don’t wanna step on anyone’s toes.”

rafe rolled his eyes, crossing his arms like he was trying to look unimpressed but failing miserably. “i’m not with her. we’re not even close.”

nova gave him a slow, deliberate once-over, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “doesn’t matter,” she said, voice low and teasing, “doesn’t really seem like your vibe anyway, does it? blondes with big fake boobs? nah, you’re into something a little… louder. pinker. way more trouble.”

he scoffed, trying to hide the small smile threatening to break free. “yeah, right. what would i want with someone like you?”

nova tilted her head, playing innocent but with those sharp, sparkling eyes that always said otherwise. “someone who’s not afraid to say whatever the hell’s on their mind. who can drink you under the table and still have you wrapped around their finger.”

rafe chuckled, shaking his head. “you talk a big game for someone who’s always a step away from falling apart.”

she smirked, stepping a little closer, but keeping just enough space to keep him guessing. “maybe i like that. keeps things interesting.”

“interesting, huh?” he echoed, his voice dropping a notch, a little rougher now. “you’re one hell of a wildcard.”

nova’s grin widened. “wildcards get the best hands, baby.”

he narrowed his eyes, pretending to consider her words seriously. “and what hand am i holding right now?”

she shrugged, flicking her hair over her shoulder, playful but with a hint of something softer beneath. “depends. do you wanna fold or play?”

rafe laughed, the tension breaking, but the heat between them still crackling. “you’ve got some nerve, pinkie.”

“you love it,” she teased, winking. “you’ve been watching me. maybe a little too much.”

he shook his head, smiling now without pretense. “maybe i have. and maybe you’re not just some loud, pink-haired mess i’m supposed to ignore.”

nova’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, and for a second, the world felt quieter—like the noise around them softened just enough for what was really there to peek through.

“so,” she said, voice softer now but still laced with that teasing edge, “what’s it gonna be, rafe? gonna keep playing it safe, or finally take a chance on the pink-haired chaos?”

he stepped a bit closer, just enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him, and said, “i don’t do safe.”

nova smiled, just a little breathless, her heart skipping in a way she didn’t want to admit. “good. because neither do i.”

nova rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a smirk. “oh c’mon, stop playing. i gotta go, baby. sarah needs me.”

rafe didn’t move. his voice dropped low, slow, and just a little dangerous. “and what if i need you?”

the air between them thickened in an instant. nova’s eyes locked on his, dark and wide, feeling the heat simmer beneath her skin like static electricity.

she licked her lips, voice just above a whisper but dripping with challenge. “well… maybe you shouldn’t keep me waiting too long then.”

rafe’s jaw tightened, caught off guard by how much he actually liked the way she said that.

nova stepped back with a coy smile, one hand brushing her hair behind her ear. “but seriously, i really do need to go. oh, by the way… i’m coming to your dorm later for the project.”

rafe’s lips twitched, barely hiding his grin. “psych 203.”

“psych 203,” nova echoed, matching him perfectly.

they held each other’s gaze a moment longer full of things neither dared say out loud yet.

nova stood outside rafe’s dorm, heart pounding from the day and the walk over. she raised her hand, hesitating for a second before knocking. the door swung open—and there she was. layla. almost naked, hair tousled like she just rolled out of bed, a lazy, smug smile stretched across her face.

“oh fuck no,” nova muttered under her breath, stepping back sharply.

she folded her arms tightly, trying to shove down the sudden surge of jealousy, anger, and that familiar sting of betrayal. her voice was low but cutting as she called through the door, “tell rafe i came by. and that i’m telling the professor i’d rather be failing than working with him.”

layla arched a perfectly manicured brow, eyes flicking over nova like she was some annoying fly buzzing around her territory. “wow, pink hair, still showing up to ruin my night, huh?”

nova’s jaw clenched, fists twitching at her sides. “this isn’t about you. it’s about the project. and it’s about the fact that he’s with you—”

“oh please,” layla interrupted, stepping out into the hallway with a careless sway. “he’s not ‘with me,’ sweetheart. don’t flatter yourself.”

nova’s voice cracked just slightly, the words spilling out faster than she could stop them. “you took everything from me. my place in art class, the team, even him—”

“get over yourself,” layla snapped, stepping closer, lowering her voice into a venomous hiss. “he’s my project now. maybe you should find a new hobby.”

nova stared her down, biting back the scream threatening to tear through her throat. every word felt like a knife twisting inside. “you think this is a game? you think I’m just gonna back off because you’re prettier or more ‘normal’? fuck you. rafe and I are in the same class, we have school work.”

layla smirked, eyes gleaming cruelly. “sweetheart, you’re the one who showed up here, looking for trouble.”

nova’s fists finally unclenched, fingers trembling as she tried to steady herself. “i’m not the one who’s comfortable playing house while pretending like all the shit you did didn’t happen.”

there was a heavy pause, the silence between them sharp as shattered glass. nova could hear her own heartbeat pounding loud in her ears.

then the door creaked behind layla, and nova’s head snapped toward it.

rafe stood there, jaw tight, eyes burning with something she couldn’t read . hurt, anger, guilt?

“nova,” he said, voice low. “what the hell are you doing here right now?”

nova swallowed hard, voice shaking. “i came to work on the project. but maybe i’d rather fail than work with someone who’s clearly already chosen.”

rafe’s eyes flicked to layla, then back to nova. “it’s not like that.”

“isn’t it?” nova whispered bitterly. “because last earlier you said that—” she stopped herself, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“nova,” rafe said again, stepping forward, but she shook her head, backing away.

“no,” she said, voice raw, “you don’t get to explain. not now.”

topper’s dorm smelled like weed and cherry vape juice. nova was curled on his couch, one leg tucked under her, hoodie too big and attitude even bigger.

“so,” she said, puffing smoke out the corner of her mouth. “i’m not mad he has a girlfriend.”

“sure,” topper muttered, tossing a soda can from hand to hand like he didn’t care but definitely did. “you’re just mad it’s layla.”

nova rolled her eyes, lips tugging down. “yeah. i hate that bitch.”

topper smirked. “are you jealous?”

she snapped her head toward him. “no. i just don’t want her anywhere near me or the people i hang out with. that girl has ruined enough of my shit.”

topper let it hang in the air for a second, nodded slow. “yeah, i get it. she’s like—annoying. in a ‘steals your ex and your cheerleading spot and your art seat and somehow your will to live’ kinda way.”

nova cracked the smallest smile. “exactly.”

“listen,” he said, sitting up straighter. “i’ll talk to rafe, okay? he’s stupid, but he’s not heartless. i’ll let him know what’s up.”

“don’t make it a thing,” nova muttered, biting the nail on her thumb.

topper grinned. “oh it’s already a thing.”

“you’re so annoying.”

“and you’re so dramatic.”

“whatever.”

he stood, tossed a blanket at her. “stay here if you want. guest bed’s yours. or the couch. or my bed—unless you start snoring like a demon again.”

“i do not snore.”

“okay, nova. whatever you say.”

she let the silence fall again before whispering, “thanks, top.”

he looked back, softened just a little. “anytime, pink hair.”

previous taglist ->next more work from me

tags: 🏷️ @rafesbabygirlx @qversazex @iconiccolo @devoutedlover @viqtoria @sc05 @k4yr14 @t0x1cfaerie @ijustwanttoreadlols @certifiedlovergirl112 @purplerose291 @faithlyn444 @mrspuffdriving @feverg1rl @eviev097 @cherryhoneybabe @silkylovey @chillgal135

[netflixbingger]

Beneath Rebel Skies - Chapter 9

Characters: Cassian x Reader Summary: You and Cassian Andor were childhood friends on Ferrix—until your parents suddenly tore you away without warning. Years later, you reunite during a mission for the Rebellion. Old memories clash with new tension as you’re forced to work together, navigating the lines between friendship, loyalty, and something more. Word Count: 3,370 words Warnings: Violence, Loss, Mild Language, Blood, Descriptions of wounds, Reader lowkey having a panic attack, mentions of death Previous Chapter

The world came back in pieces.

First, the hum. Low and constant. Mechanical. Then the sting in your ribs—dull, distant, like it was happening to someone else. Then the weight of the air, thick and too still.

And Kiira’s voice.

“Y/N?”

You blinked slowly, lashes heavy, vision fogged. She was sitting beside you, dark circles carved beneath her eyes, hair pulled back in a sloppy knot like she hadn’t bothered in days. Relief hit her so fast it nearly knocked the chair back.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, scrambling to grab your hand. “You’re awake. You’re actually - thank the Maker.”

You tried to speak, but your throat was raw. Dry.

“How long?” you croaked.

Kiira exhaled shakily. “Four days.” She gave a watery laugh. “Makers, Y/N. You scared the hell out of me.”

You frowned, trying to catch up, but your body still felt like it was made of stone.

“There was so much blood,” Kiira murmured, almost to herself. “I’ve never seen that much blood before. I didn’t even know someone could lose that much and still - ” She stopped, jaw tight. “I thought you were gone.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. The weight in your chest felt too thick, too sharp to shape into words.

“You stubborn bitch,” she added, trying for humor but not quite making it. Her voice cracked near the end.

You managed a weak breath. “Still here.”

Kiira gave a shaky laugh and swiped at her face. “Yeah, well, don’t do that again. Ever. I swear, if I ever have to carry your half-dead ass through a hallway again, I’m quitting the rebellion.”

You turned your head slowly to look at her. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, barely above a whisper.

“Don’t be. Just… maybe warn me next time.”

You let your eyes fall closed for a beat. The ache behind your ribs hadn’t faded - it had just dulled into something deeper. Something tired. You didn’t want to think about the firefight. Or the little girl. Or the moment everything went sideways. Not yet.

Kiira shifted in her seat, rubbing her hands over her face like she was trying to stay present. Then she straightened suddenly.

Kiira sighed. “They hooked you up to the bacta chamber the second we touched down. You’ve been floating in there like a damn fish for four days. I kept coming back. Kept checking the monitors. Every time your vitals spiked, I thought…” She didn’t finish the sentence. “But you held on.”

You looked over at her, really looked this time. Her face was worn thin. Like she hadn’t slept more than an hour at a time. Like she'd been holding her breath.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Kiira just shook her head. “Don’t do that. Don’t thank me for being scared out of my mind.”

You stared up at the ceiling for a few moments, letting her words settle. Everything inside you felt unsteady - like if you breathed too deep, the cracks might widen.

Kiira sat forward again, suddenly remembering. “Shit. I gotta ping Cassian. I told him I would the second you - ”

Your eyes opened again at that name, too quickly. It hurt.

“Where is he?” you asked, trying to sound casual. It didn’t quite land.

Kiira paused mid-reach for her comm. Her mouth pulled into a tight line. “They shipped him out.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Not even ten minutes after we landed,” she said, setting the comm back down without activating it. “Didn’t even get the blood off his jacket. Orders came in, and he was gone.”

Your chest felt tight again, but not from the injury. “Did he… did he say anything?”

“I told him I’d let him know when you woke up,” Kiira said simply. “That’s all you need to worry about.”

You stared at her, trying to read between the words, but Kiira was already standing, fussing with a blanket near your feet like it mattered.

“When’s he getting back?”

She didn’t look at you. “I don’t know. But it’s not important right now.”

The quiet that followed was heavy. Not awkward, just weighted. Like there were too many things you both weren’t saying.

So you said nothing. Just let your head fall back against the pillow, the muscles in your neck too tired to hold anything up.

Kiira finally glanced back at you, her face softening. “Get some rest. You look like shit.”

You smiled faintly. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

The next few days passed in fragments.

Faces came and went. Voices, too. Most blurred together -squadmates dropping by with crooked smiles and awkward jokes, a nurse who kept scolding you for trying to sit up too fast.

Cade visited on the second day.

He brought a flower from the vendor on some nearby planet, the kind that glowed faintly at the tips. “Tacky, I know,” he said with a sheepish smile, setting it on the tray beside your cot. “But it reminded me of that dumb mission we took on Telerath.”

You smiled politely. He talked for a while, filling the space with stories you barely processed. You were grateful for the noise - grateful, even, when he hesitated near the end and said, “For what it’s worth… I think he’s been a mess.”

You didn’t ask who he meant. You didn’t have to. You just shifted beneath the blanket and said nothing, letting the silence stand for you.

By the end of the fifth day, the nurses deemed you stable. The wound itself had closed thanks to the bacta unit - but your strength hadn’t caught up. Every limb still felt waterlogged. Heavy. You were cleared for release, but not for duty.

Three weeks of maintenance shift rotation. Light labor. No field work.

You nodded when they told you. Said thank you. Pretended it didn’t sting.

Kiira showed up later that afternoon with your clean clothes and a quiet look.

“Ready to go home?”

You nodded again, slower this time.

The walk back to your room was quiet.

Kiira stayed close, not saying much, but you could feel her watching you -subtle glances every few steps, like she was waiting for you to tip sideways. You didn’t. You wouldn’t. Not until you were alone.

When the door to your quarters slid open, it almost startled you.

Everything was the same. The same boots by the wall. The same half-folded blanket on your bed.

Kiira helped you over the threshold and glanced around like she expected something to jump out at her. “Still smells like that shitty caf you drink,” she muttered, more for your benefit than her own.

You didn’t laugh. But you appreciated the effort.

She moved to strip the sheets off your bed. “I’ll swap these...just in case you don’t feel like sleeping in two-week-old sweat.”

You nodded.

When she finished, she paused in the doorway. “You good?”

You nodded again, slower this time.

“Okay.” She lingered for a second, then softened. “I’ll check in later. Try to rest, alright?”

The door sealed behind her.

Silence.

You peeled off your jacket, then your shirt, and moved stiffly to the refresher. The mirror was already fogging by the time you stepped under the water. You didn’t rush. Let it soak through your hair. Let it sting along the healing skin at your ribs. Watched the water spiral down the drain, tinged faintly pink.

You didn’t look at the wound. Not yet.

You dried off slowly, wrapping the towel around your torso. The room was quiet enough to hear the hum of the base in the walls - air systems, distant footsteps. Normal life. Continuing as if you hadn’t almost bled out in the dirt.

When you stepped out of the refresher and back into your room, the mirror was clearing. That’s when you saw it.

The wound. Ugly, inflamed, puckered with healing skin and faint bacta residue. A mark of what had happened. Of what had nearly happened.

Your breath hitched.

You stared at it for a long moment, unmoving. And then, like something cut loose in your chest, you sank to the edge of your bed and let your head fall into your hands.

The tears came quiet at first. Just a sting in your eyes, a shake in your shoulders. But then they swelled into something deep and gutting. You sobbed into your palms, trying to keep the sound in, like someone might hear you. 

The market. The panic. The little girl. The pain. The fear in Cassian’s voice. The absence that came after.

You folded forward, elbows on your knees, and let out a sob that sounded like it had been buried for days. It ripped out of your throat before you could stop it. You pressed your palms harder against your eyes, trying to make it stop, trying to breathe past it, but it kept coming. Louder. Uglier.

Then your hand hit the edge of the metal tray on your nightstand. The empty water cup rattled, toppled. You stared at it for a beat and then threw it. Hard. It hit the far wall and shattered into pieces, skidding across the floor.

You didn’t stop there.

You grabbed the closest thing you could - your old commlink, and hurled that too. It clattered uselessly near the corner. You hated the way it sounded. Too quiet. Not enough.

Your towel slipped, and you didn’t care.

You dropped to your knees, knuckles pressed to the cold floor, gasping like you couldn’t catch up to your own grief. 

You screamed.

Not words. Just sound. Just rage. At the pain. At the fear. At everything you had to swallow while everyone around you kept moving like nothing had changed. At the fact that it had taken you bleeding out on the floor of a marketplace to finally fall apart.

You cried for everything that ever happened in your life. Leaving Ferrix. Your parents death. The Empire. The little girl from the market. Your teammates sacrifices. The rebellion. Cassian.

You screamed again. Louder. Until your throat hurt.

Until your chest hurt.

Until there was nothing left but the echo of it in your ears and the slow, creeping silence that came after.

And then you just sat there.

Crying. Breathing. Shaking.

Alone. 

The room was dim now. You hadn’t bothered turning the lights back on after the breakdown. Just curled into bed, damp hair pressed to the pillow, wearing a shirt two sizes too big that still smelled like the medbay. The window let in just enough light to make out the edges of furniture, the flicker of stars far beyond.

You’d stopped crying hours ago. Now, there was just the ache. The heaviness in your chest that didn’t seem to move, no matter how you shifted. You lay still, eyes fixed on the ceiling, arms limp at your sides. Too wired to sleep. Too worn down to move.

Your fingers brushed absently at the edge of the blanket. Everything in the room felt like it belonged to someone else.

Then - A knock.

You blinked.

It wasn’t loud. Just two soft raps against the metal. Not urgent. Not tentative either. Like someone standing on the other side wasn’t sure if they should be.

Your heart stuttered. You already knew.

You pushed yourself upright slowly, limbs aching, breath shaky. Crossed the floor barefoot. The knock didn’t come again.

You opened the door.

And there he was.

Cassian. Hair slightly messy, circles under his eyes, uniform wrinkled like he hadn’t slept much either. He froze when he saw you. His eyes scanned your face - your posture - your wound, even though he couldn’t see it.

His mouth opened. No words came.

Neither of you said anything. You just stared at each other. The only sound was the soft hum of the hallway behind him.

You stared at him.

Cassian didn’t speak. Just stood there, motionless in the doorway like he didn’t trust himself to take the first step. His eyes flicked over you again - your damp hair, your oversized shirt, the exhaustion carved beneath your eyes. The silence stretched.

“I shouldn’t have come this late,” he said finally, voice low. “I just - ”

You stepped aside without a word, the door sliding open a little wider.

He hesitated. Only a second.

Then he stepped in.

The air shifted the moment he crossed the threshold - like the room itself tensed with him. He didn’t move far, just a few feet past the doorway, his hands still at his sides. You closed the door behind him, the soft hiss sealing the quiet between you.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You could feel the heat coming off him, the weight of everything that hadn’t been said. He was close enough now that you could smell the faint trace of smoke and engine oil clinging to his jacket.

Your throat felt tight.

“You look…” He trailed off, as if realizing there wasn’t a safe word to follow that. His brows drew together, like the sight of you hurt.

“Like someone who got shot?” you said, voice brittle.

He exhaled, gaze dropping. “Yeah. That.”

Another beat of silence. You crossed your arms, not because you were cold, but because it gave your hands somewhere to go.

“I came as soon as I landed,” he said.

You squeezed your arms, not answering right away. The silence stretched just long enough to sting.

“I didn’t mean to disappear,” he added, voice lower. “They pulled me out before your blood was even dry. I didn’t want to leave like that.”

Your throat tightened. “Then why didn’t you com?”

He looked at you, and for once, didn’t have anything ready to say.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “Every time I thought about calling, it felt… wrong.”

You frowned. “Wrong?”

His jaw clenched. “I left you bleeding on that bench. You were shaking. I didn’t even know if you’d still be breathing by the time I got back. And they pulled me before I could even - ” He cut himself off, eyes flicking away like the memory still burned.

“You were there,” you said, softer now - instinctively trying to ease his guilt. “You didn’t leave until you had to. You kept me awake. Alive”

His gaze lifted. And for a second, the weight he always carried behind his eyes cracked wide open.

“I’ve seen people die from hits like that,” he said. “I’ve seen people die with less. I thought that was it..”

Your arms tightened across your chest.

“I asked Kiira to tell me when you woke up. I checked in every time I landed. Every chance I got.”

You flinched.

Because it sounded like he cared. And that’s what made it worse. He did care—he’d shown it, again and again, in ways that weren’t nothing. But that was the problem. You couldn’t let yourself get close, just for him to decide it was too much. He didn’t get to do that.

He can’t sit there and pour his heart out to you - not if he was going to run away the moment you got close again.

“That’s not fair,” you said low, the words cracking through the quiet like glass.

Cassian froze, caught mid-step. His mouth parted slightly, but nothing came out.

“You can’t say things like that,” you said, your voice trembling even as you forced it steady. “You can’t show up after days - weeks - and act like you’ve been carrying this all along. Not if you’re going to pretend tomorrow like none of it happened.”

“I’m not -”

“No, listen to me.” Your arms folded across your chest again, not out of defense, but desperation - like holding yourself together was the only option. “You don’t get to pick and choose when I matter to you, Cassian. You can’t go cold one day and then show up saying you thought you lost me. I can’t do this - ”

You broke off, the emotion finally catching up to your breath, “I can’t go back to being close to you without knowing if it means anything.”

Cassian’s face shifted - pain, guilt, regret, all crashing into one tight expression. “I know,” he said softly. “I’ve been a bastard. I know I’ve been... cruel.”

You shook your head, eyes burning. “It’s not about cruel. It’s about being careless. With me. With us. You disappear, and I try to act like I don’t care. Then you come back and look at me like that - and I don’t know how to protect myself from it.”

His jaw clenched, chest rising like he was fighting the urge to speak- but he didn’t interrupt.

“So if this is just another moment,” you whispered, “another fleeting thing before you shut down again… I need you to walk away now. Please.”

The silence that followed stretched so long it hurt.

Then, Cassian took one slow step forward. And another.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, quiet but unwavering.

You didn’t move, didn’t breathe, not fully.

“I kept telling myself it was safer to stay away,” he went on. “But I watched you bleed out in my arms and realized- ” he broke off for a second, voice tight, “I’ve been a coward.”

You blinked hard, throat closing. The words hit something sharp inside you, something that had been barely stitched together.

“You haven’t been a coward,” you said quietly. “You’ve been smart.”

Cassian stilled, his brows knitting.

You swallowed. “It is safer to stay away. We don’t get luxuries in this life. Not real ones. Not the kind that last. Being close, it just makes everything worse when something happens. And something always happens.”

The truth of it hung between you like smoke. He knew it. You both did.

“It’s easier to keep space,” you added, voice softer now. “To pretend it doesn’t matter. Because if it does… if we let it… then losing it would be…”

You didn’t finish the sentence. You didn’t need to.

He shook his head slightly, jaw tense. “No. That’s wrong.”

You blinked.

“I was scared,” he admitted, voice low. “But after that day. after watching you bleed out on that bench, after thinking I’d never hear your voice again-” he broke off, eyes dark, throat working as he searched for the words, “I didn’t feel fear. I felt regret. All I could think about was how much time I’d wasted trying not to want this. Not to want you.”

Your breath caught.

“I don’t want to feel that again,” he said, quieter now. “I don’t want to keep pushing you away just to protect something that’s already broken. I want you in my life. However I can have you.”

He took another step forward, gaze never leaving yours. His voice dropped, almost a whisper. “So I’m staying. If you let me.”

You didn’t answer right away.

But your arms slowly lowered.

And your eyes didn’t leave his.

The silence wasn’t sharp anymore. It felt heavy now, dense and full of everything you’d been holding back since the hangar, since the mission, since before all of it. You took a step back—not away from him, just to breathe. Your legs were still shaky. You hated that he noticed.

Cassian watched you carefully, like he was afraid to move too fast. Like you might vanish if he reached for you.

“I’m so tired,” you said softly, voice hoarse. “Of pretending you don’t affect me.”

His brow creased.

“You have no idea what it’s been like,” you continued, pushing your hair back, your hand trembling slightly. “Lying in that medbay, trying to convince myself I didn’t care that you weren’t there. That it didn’t mean something.”

You laughed once - flat and bitter. “You haunt me, Cassian. Even when you’re gone, you’re everywhere. And I hate it. I hate how much I want you.”

That cracked something in him.

Cassian crossed the room in two steps.

His hands hovered near your arms but didn’t touch - not until you looked up at him. Your eyes met his, and in that breath of quiet, something shifted between you. The ache didn’t go away. But it changed.

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore,” he said, voice rough. “I’m done pretending.”

Your mouth parted slightly, words sitting on the tip of your tongue - but they didn’t come.

He stepped closer. Close enough for the tension to vibrate between your bodies. His hand lifted, brushing your cheek gently - like he still wasn’t sure he had the right.

You leaned into it.

Just enough to let him know he did.

You shifted, moving closer. The ache in your ribs made it slow, but his hand was there immediately, steadying you with gentle pressure. His fingers ghosted along your side, careful of the bruises and bandages. You were close enough to feel his breath against your cheek.

He tilted his forehead to yours. “You’re still healing.”

“I know,” you whispered.

But neither of you moved.

His hand stayed on your side, thumb brushing the edge of the bandage like he needed the reminder- like if he wasn’t careful, you’d fall apart in his hands.

“Cassian,” you said softly.

He didn’t answer.

So you leaned in, slow and unsure, your forehead resting against his. The space between you narrowed into something fragile, electric. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t speak.

And then, carefully, like it might break him, he tilted his head and kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed.

It wasn’t practiced.

It was quiet, hesitant, like he didn’t quite believe he was allowed. His lips moved against yours with a softness that caught you off guard - no heat, no desperation. Just a promise.

When you finally pulled back, your breath was unsteady. So was his.

But he didn’t move away.

And neither did you.

Just stood there, in the quiet hum of your room, with the space between you finally closed.

I feel like the chapters have felt rushed, but I didn’t wanna drag this on for too long!! But I hoped you guys enjoyed their confession!!! 👀

Taglist: @buzzyandbadatmath

[dayasfilms]

Chapter One - Spring Break

Summary: You visit Hawkins for spring break, wanting to spend time with your friends, who you have not seen in a while, for the week.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Y/N, blood, mentions of missing persons, weed, getting high, not too many warnings

Word Count: 3.1k

Note: Chapters for season four may take a bit more time to get out since they are a lot longer so I apologize for not being able to get a new chapter out every single day.

Series Masterlist

ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡

The birds chirped outside as the sun rose over the city, casting golden light through the windows and brightening your room. You zipped up your suitcase, double-checking that everything you needed was inside. It was still early, too early, and your mom was getting ready to drive you to the airport before she left for work.

You stepped out of your room and crossed the hall to Jonathan’s door. Knocking firmly, you waited with a hand on your hip, tapping your foot when you heard a thud and the clatter of objects inside. A few shuffled footsteps later, Jonathan finally opened the door.

His eyes were sunken and looked heavier than usual. The faint smell of weed hit you immediately, and you scrunched your nose.

“Jonathan! I’m leaving! What are you doing?” You scolded, waving your hands at him.

He glanced behind him into the messy room, then looked back at you with a sheepish smile. “Uh…nothing. You’re leaving? Where you going?”

You raised a brow. “Seriously? You know where I’m going, Jon. My flight is today.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Oh shit. That’s today?”

You let out a long sigh. “What is wrong with you? No, actually, don’t answer that. I already know.”

“Right, yeah,” Jonathan mumbled, straightening up. “Well…have a safe flight.”

“You know…” you started, eyeing him. “You could’ve come with me. It makes way more sense for you to visit your girlfriend than me visiting her as my best friend.”

He looked away, shifting awkwardly. “Yeah, well…someone’s gotta stay behind with Will and El while you’re gone. And I’m still waiting for my acceptance letter.”

You crossed your arms. “Nancy was supposed to come instead, but she bailed last minute, and now only Mike’s visiting. Are you guys okay?”

“Of course we’re okay,” he said quickly. “We’re fine.”

You nodded slowly, not entirely convinced. “Okay…”

You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. Jonathan held you back, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder.

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” you warned, pulling away. “And for the love of God, crack a window in there. I can smell the weed from the hallway.”

His eyes widened. “Didn’t think it was that noticeable.”

“Please. Even my mom knows, Jonathan. She just doesn’t say anything.”

He gave a guilty smile. “My bad. I’ll cut it down.”

“You better,” you said, grabbing the handle of your suitcase. “I don’t even get why you do that stuff. It’s terrible for you.”

“Duly noted.”

You started toward the stairs. “Okay, bye, Jon. Love you!”

He gave a lazy wave. “Love you too.”

You carefully carried your suitcase downstairs and left it by the door before heading into the kitchen. Eleven, Will, and Joyce were sitting at the table, mid-breakfast.

“Hi, guys! I’m heading to the airport now,” you announced, walking over to Will first since he was closest.

He stood up and hugged you. “Great, and who’s supposed to look after us now?” He teased.

You laughed. “Jonathan, of course.”

Will muttered under his breath so only you could hear. “He doesn’t even really take care of himself.”

You sighed and patted his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. You’ve got your brother. Oh, and Argyle!”

Argyle was Jonathan’s best friend, who was incredibly funny. He wasn’t exactly a role model since he was always high, but you couldn’t help but adore him. He was genuinely sweet and impossible to stay mad at. If anyone could balance Jonathan out, it was Argyle.

“And Mike when he gets here,” Eleven added with a bright smile before hugging you tightly. “I’m going to miss you.”

You gave her a playful shake, making her laugh. “I’m going to miss you little rascals too. But it’s only a week. Enjoy your spring break after school today!”

“I’m so excited to show everyone my project,” she said, beaming.

“I know, and you should be,” you said, squeezing her shoulder. You helped El with her school project, and the idea behind it made your heart swell with pride. “You worked so hard. It’s going to blow everyone away.”

Her grin grew even wider. You turned to Joyce, who had watched the exchange with a soft smile. She stood and hugged you warmly.

“Have a safe flight, dear,” she said, rubbing your back.

“Thanks, Joyce. See you guys in a week!”

You waved to everyone and made your way to your mom’s office. Knocking lightly, you heard a muffled, “Come in.”

Inside, your mom was seated at her desk, organizing some files.

“Mom, I’m ready.”

She looked up and smiled. “Ah, good. I was just finishing up.” She grabbed her car keys from the desk. “Did you say goodbye to everyone?”

“Yeah, I did,” you said with a nod as the two of you walked out together.

Your mom took your suitcase and loaded it into the car. You slid into the passenger seat, and soon, you were off toward the airport.

Once you arrived, Yasmin walked in with you as you checked in. When it was time to go, you wrapped her in a tight hug, rocking side to side.

“Stay safe, sweetie,” she said, her hand gently rubbing your back. “I don’t think we’ve ever been apart this long before, especially not thousands of miles away.”

You pulled back and cupped her cheeks with a grin. “I’ll be back before you know it, mom.”

“Oh, I hope so,” she said, fixing your hair. “I love you.”

You waved as you walked away, dragging your suitcase behind you. “I love you too!”

A few hours later, your plane landed at the Indianapolis airport. You grabbed your suitcase from the overhead compartment, and stepped out of the plane. As you walked into the arrivals area, dragging your suitcase behind you, your eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on a familiar figure waving enthusiastically.

You broke into a grin, lifting your hand in return. “Mrs. Wheeler, hi!”

Karen Wheeler pulled you into a warm hug. “Hey, hon! How was your flight?”

“Good! Thank you so much for picking me up, and for letting me stay with you guys,” you said, spotting Holly peeking out from behind her mother’s legs. “Hi, Holly!”

You crouched to give the little girl a hug, and she wrapped her tiny arms around your neck without hesitation.

Karen smiled fondly. “Of course, Y/N. You’re like family.”

The three of you walked out of the airport. Karen helped you load your suitcase into the trunk of her car, and soon you were settled in the passenger seat beside her.

“So,” she said as the car pulled onto the highway. “How’s Stanford treating you? You’re almost done with your first year, right?”

You nodded, chuckling. “Yeah, it’s wild. But Stanford’s been incredible, better than I ever imagined.”

Karen gave an approving nod. “I’m glad. Nancy’s been reading your letters like a proud sister. I still can’t believe she’s heading to college this fall.”

“I know. Time’s moving way too fast,” you said, watching the trees blur past your window.

The drive continued for a while. When the familiar ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign passed by your window, a flicker of nostalgia stirred in your chest. It felt good to be back, even if only for a little while. You were excited to catch up with everyone, who you knew were in school at this moment, hence why Karen picked you up, and you were thrilled that you’d made it in time for Lucas’ big basketball game tonight.

As you kept driving, you sniffled. Your nose tingled suddenly, a strange heat rushing to your face. You raised your hand to your upper lip, and when you pulled it away, you saw bright red on your fingertips.

“Oh… shoot,” you muttered, looking around for something to wipe your face with.

Karen glanced over. “Everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said quickly, trying not to make a big deal of it. “Just a random nosebleed. Do you have any tissues?”

Her brows drew together in concern. “Oh, you poor thing. Check the center console, we always keep some in there for Holly.”

You opened it and found a small pack of tissues, hastily dabbing at your nose and wiping your fingers clean.

“I’m sure it’s just the weather,” you added, half-laughing. “Dry air, right?”

Karen chuckled, nodding. “Makes sense, it’s spring. But let me know if you start feeling off. I’ll make some tea when we get home. Maybe your body’s just adjusting after your flight.”

You nodded, smiling faintly, even as a strange feeling settled in your chest.

Karen made you a warm cup of tea while you settled into the guest bedroom of the Wheelers’ house. You already called your mom once you arrived at the house, letting her know you made it safely. After unzipping your suitcase, you pulled out a fresh change of clothes and set them aside. A shower sounded perfect before Nancy got home from school.

You knew senior year had been keeping her busy, not just with classes, but with the high school newspaper. Nancy had always dreamed of being a writer, so getting to run the paper felt like the first big step toward that future. You were proud of her.

After showering, you returned to your room and sat on the edge of the bed, towel drying your hair. It was just after five, and Karen had mentioned that Nancy should be home around now. The two of you planned to head to Lucas’ basketball game together.

From the window, you spotted your old car sitting in the Wheelers’ driveway. You’d given it to Nancy before you left for California, and now, you found yourself feeling sentimental seeing it again. You missed that car. Still, it worked out. Your mom bought you another car in California. She’d decided it was easier than getting rides from her, Joyce, or Jonathan, and you weren’t about to argue.

Suddenly, the front door creaked open, followed by a familiar voice calling out. “I’m home!”

You lit up instantly, springing to your feet and rushing out of the room. Taking the stairs two at a time, you launched yourself at Nancy just as she was slipping off her shoes.

“You’re here!” She laughed, hugging you tightly. “It’s been forever!”

You giggled, pulling back to look at her face. “I know, I’ve missed you so much. I can’t wait to hang out again.”

Karen joined you in the hallway, her smile warm. “Aw, you girls are adorable. Come on, dinner’s ready.” She looked pointedly at you. “I’m sure you’ve probably haven’t eaten much today, Y/N. You’re having something before you head out, okay?”

“Yes, of course,” you said with a smile, following her to the dining table with Nancy right behind you.

As you sat down, you glanced around. “Where’s Mike?”

Nancy rolled her eyes as she sat across from you. “Off playing another D&D campaign with that Hellfire club of his. He said something about needing a replacement for Lucas.”

Your brow furrowed. “Wait…a replacement? For Lucas? Isn’t tonight his big game?”

“Exactly,” Nancy said, stabbing her fork into her food. “I told Mike he was being ridiculous. I mean, this is Lucas’ big night. He’s worked his ass off for this game, and they’re just ditching him.”

You frowned, chewing slowly. “I don’t get it. How is a board game more important than showing up for him?”

Nancy nodded, equally frustrated. “Yeah, and the club is run by Eddie Munson.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Eddie Munson? He was literally in my senior year. He’s still in school?”

Nancy shrugged. “Apparently. The kids love him though. Did they not tell you that in their letters?”

You shook your head. “All I knew was that they joined the Hellfire Club. Nothing else.”

You didn’t say anything for a second, picking at your food as your thoughts spiraled. Mike and Dustin skipping out on Lucas was wrong. It made you a bit angry.

You glanced out the window, then over at Nancy. “Well…at least we’ll be there.”

Nancy drove the two of you to Hawkins High School after dinner. As soon as you pulled into the parking lot, a wave of memories hit you like a flood. Everything looked the same, and yet it felt like a lifetime had passed. Nostalgia settled in your chest.

Inside the gym, the familiar echo of sneakers squeaking and chatter filled the air. Nancy led you over to a boy with glasses, and you followed close behind. She turned to you with a grin.

“Y/N, this is Fred! He works with me on the school paper.”

Fred gave you an enthusiastic wave. “Nice to meet the Y/N Kaul!” He said. “Last year’s Hawkins High ‘it girl’!”

You raised an eyebrow, caught off guard. “People really called me that?”

“Oh, yeah! You had no idea, but everyone talked about you,” Fred replied, then glanced at Nancy. “Now Nancy’s taken your spot this year.”

Nancy rolled her eyes, leading you both toward the bleachers. She was hoping the team would win tonight so she had something to write about in the next article.

The three of you found seats on the first row, settling in as the game was about to begin. Nancy had her notebook and pen ready.

Your eyes scanned the gym until they landed on Lucas across the room. You waved, and his face lit up as he waved back enthusiastically.

Then, your gaze wandered over the bleachers, searching for more familiar faces. One stood out in particular and your heart stuttered.

Steve Harrington sat a few rows up, arms crossed, staring ahead with a bored expression. He looked alone, like he had no one to talk to. You didn’t realize how long you’d been looking at him until Nancy nudged you, gently tugging your hand to snap you out of it.

“He really misses you,” she said softly, offering a kind smile. “We don’t talk much, but I hear from Dustin when he and Lucas come over.”

You hesitated. “So…he hasn’t been seeing anyone?”

Nancy chuckled and shook her head. “Nope. Ever since he started working at Family Video, girls have been flirting with him left and right, but he shuts them all down. He hasn’t looked at anyone else.”

Your cheeks warmed, a smile creeping in despite your effort to suppress it. Nancy noticed and laughed under her breath.

What you didn’t see was the way Steve’s eyes landed on you the second you looked away. His entire expression softened. His eyes lit up. He couldn’t stop staring.

He meant it when he said you were the love of his life. No one else even came close. Girls flirted, smiled, tossed their hair, batted their eyelashes, but none of them were you. He had made a promise to wait for you. And he would.

He just hoped you hadn’t moved on.

Everyone stood for the national anthem, and Tammy Thompson stepped up to the microphone. You remembered her from your senior year.

She started singing, and you blinked, immediately cringing. You and Nancy exchanged a look, both trying not to laugh as her shaky voice filled the gym.

Soon, the game kicked off, and you were on the edge of your seat. Each shot made your heart race, and you found yourself screaming along with the crowd. When the ball hit the net, you and Nancy jumped up and down in pure joy, clinging to the hope that they might actually win.

Midway through, one of the players was injured. That’s when Lucas was finally called in. You clapped and cheered, thrilled to see him on the court.

Then came the final seconds. Lucas made a desperate shot. The ball bounced off the rim…then dropped in.

The crowd erupted.

You and Nancy screamed along with everyone else, overwhelmed with pride. As she scribbled notes in her journal, beaming, you stood there, heart pounding.

You told Nancy you’d meet her at the car and stepped out of the gym, looking for Lucas. He spotted you first and waved.

You ran to him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“You were amazing, Lucas!” You said excitedly.

“I’m so glad you came! It really means a lot,” he said, hugging you back.

You pulled away just enough to look up at him, your hand on his shoulder. “You’ve gotten so tall, I might actually cry.”

Lucas laughed, but a voice called his name from across the lot, and you looked to see his teammates. He turned to leave but glanced behind you first, something catching his eye.

You turned to follow his gaze.

Dustin and Mike had just stepped out through a door, probably from their Hellfire Club game. Erica was with them. You furrowed your brows.

But when you turned back around, Lucas was already walking away with his team.

You returned to the Wheelers’ house, and as soon as you stepped inside, you saw Karen on the phone in the living room. She looked up and waved you over.

“Y/N, it’s your mom,” she said, holding out the receiver.

You smiled and walked over, taking the phone. “Hey, mom.”

“Sweetheart! How was the game?” Yasmin asked warmly.

“It was great, we won!” You said, your excitement still fresh in your voice.

You could almost hear her smile through the phone. “I knew it! I’m glad you had a good night, then.”

“Yeah, me too,” you replied, leaning against the wall. “Anyway, did you want to say something?”

“Oh, yes,” Yasmin said, as if suddenly remembering. She cleared her throat. “My team’s been called out of state, to Alaska, actually.”

“Alaska?” You repeated, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of case?���

“There have been a few people reported missing,” she explained, her voice taking on a more serious tone. “They really need us out there, so I just wanted to let you know in case you call the house and I’m not there.”

You nodded to yourself, used to her occasionally traveling for work. “When do you leave?”

“Early tomorrow morning.”

You sighed, absentmindedly twisting the phone cord around your finger. “I hope it goes well. Be safe, okay?”

“You too, sweetheart,” Yasmin said gently. “Enjoy your trip. I’ll see you next week.”

“Bye, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You placed the receiver back, lingering there for a moment. Maybe it was just the exhaustion catching up to you, but something about your mom’s voice had felt off. You were used to her traveling for work, with being an FBI agent and all, but tonight, there had been a slight hesitation in her tone, a subtle tremble, like she was holding something back. You shook your head, deciding to call it a night.

[districtunrest]

On the Air

for @mollywog

inspired by this nonsense

The thing Hazelle misses least about her old home is the television. Sleek and alien, set into the old wooden wall like a black mirror, it would turn on by itself whenever the Capitol thought they needed to watch it. It couldn’t be switched off until the closing seal, after the anthem. Nobody ever had a problem watching the Hunger Games, not even during brownouts. 

There were heavy fines if the home television was damaged. Gale used to try to cover it with a blanket but she’d pull it right off before someone saw through a window or an open door. So, instead, he took to sitting in front of it at dinner, his elbows spread to cover as much of the carnage as possible.

Except those last two years, where he made no move to cover it. He sat facing it at dinner when he wasn’t watching it with the Everdeens, waiting for Katniss.

Hazelle finds herself thinking of that now as she sits before a radio that’s been set on the fireplace mantel. She’s in Katniss’ living room but the radio belongs to Peeta. Hazelle knows that’s becoming a fuzzier boundary by the day now; what she doesn’t know is where he found the junky old thing.

Peeta turns a dial on the radio and it crackles to life. He fiddles with it until they can hear the evening weather report. And then he turns another knob, where they catch the end of a high cackle.

“There she is.” He crawls backward until he’s sitting against Katniss’ legs, leaving her and Hazelle to the couch. 

Hazelle has never met Johanna Mason, and she’s never listened to her new radio show all the way through, either. There’s too much swearing and talk of matters she can’t have playing out loud in the house with her children home. 

But tonight she won’t have to turn it off. She can listen to the whole thing, no matter how sideways it gets. And with tonight’s guest, it just might.

Johanna’s talk show is known for many things but it’s a special occasion altogether when another victor joins her. So far, she’s interviewed Beetee and Annie. It was the first and only interview Beetee gave since the war, and they spent more time heavily discussing the new album of the winner from that singing competition than any worthwhile update on their lives. It was the same with Annie, where they talked about everything and nothing. They laughed a lot. They laughed so much there would be seconds of on-air silence as they fought to catch their breaths. 

As far as Hazelle knows, Katniss and Peeta have declined to guest star themselves, given they intend to go to their graves without another interview or television appearance. But they still like to tune in.

While Peeta comments on missing the cold open and the opening jingle, Johanna Mason is saying, “-and anyway, who's counting?” 

“Not me,” Haymitch replies, and Hazelle smiles despite missing the joke. 

He sounds the same. Of course he would.

He and Johanna spend the first few minutes catching up, which she leads into with an irreverent, “So, what’s new with you?” as if the entire world didn’t upend itself last year.

“Whole lot of nothing,” he answers. “Let’s see… I got a bird feeder but haven’t gotten around to getting birdseed yet. My porch railing’s wobbly. Gotta fix that when I get home.”

Johanna laughs. “You sound like an old man.”

“I am retired,” he points out, and Hazelle can picture him shrugging a shoulder in time with his brows in that offhand way of his. “Meanwhile, I see you couldn’t stay out of the limelight.”

“Can’t help myself,” Johanna agrees. “Much better to be on this side of it.”

“You’ve become a professional complainer,” he says, which makes Katniss and Peeta crack up.

They go back and forth like this, and Hazelle can tell they’ve done this for years. It’s surprisingly nice to just listen in; it feels like meeting one of his friends at a party, but all the banter and inside jokes are actually funny, even from the outside. She bets Johanna will get him laughing - really laughing - in no time. Maybe it’ll sound like the one he’ll give Hazelle from time to time, often enough that she’s started to miss it. 

It was his therapist’s idea that he leave for a bit. He needed time away for himself and to go wherever he wanted for a change. She’s surprised Haymitch agreed to it. 

It’s not lost on her that he’s only been gone a week, and here he is on a late-night show. At this rate, he'll ironically dive off a cliff if he's bored enough. Though, Hazelle supposes he’s in good company with Johanna in more ways than one. She’s another victor, for one, and she’s in recovery herself. It’s something Johanna doesn’t hide on her show, that talking the country’s ear off at home in her pajamas serves her more than being high in a train car, on her way to nowhere. 

It’s not long before Johanna broaches the similarity herself - in her way. “I’m so fucking bored now. Aren’t you?”

“I’m here, ain’t I?” There’s a wry, knowing smirk in his voice. Hazelle can picture the moment it fades a little from his face.

“I make my bed every morning.”

“I match and fold all my socks.”

“I’m now ambidextrous - at jerking off,” she’s sure to clarify.

“Oh, no,” Katniss grumbles, digging her palms into her eyes, while Haymitch laughs out in surprise.

“A leftie now, huh?” he asks.

“Always was for when I was lonely. And then rightie was for when I wanted someone who knows what they’re doing. Sobriety has taken that from me.”

“Shame.”

“Well,” Johanna starts leadingly after a half-second pause, “what’s your schedule now that it’s working again?”

“Oh, please no,” Katniss begs now, trying to stand, but Peeta keeps her legs in place. She leans over for a pillow that he intercepts over his shoulder.

“Don’t you break my radio!” he chides with a laugh. 

Her arm propped on the headrest, Hazelle rubs her temple and ignores how she can feel both their blushes.

Somehow all of this happens in the beat it takes before they hear Haymitch’s reply. “All right,” he says, conspiratorial, “now that the kids back home have destroyed the radio, what did you really want to ask?”

“Who’s your favorite?” Johanna asks back immediately.

“Leftie - Wait, no! Peeta!” 

Hazelle snorts as they erupt into laughter over the sound waves. She takes in Katniss with her face in her hands, her shaking shoulders betraying her, while Peeta has thrown his head back into her lap, laughing himself red. 

Johanna returns with, “Ah, Haymitch. A class act, as always. So glad you could come tonight.”

“Easy there, dollface. Happy to end all the voicemails once and for all. It was really getting pathetic.”

“Yeah, I was running out of ideas. Clearly,” she adds pointedly. “Which leads me to our final, special segment for the evening.” She clears her throat, the sound punched from the radio like the old time clocks at the mine entrances. “Haymitch.”

“Johanna,” he mimics.

“You’re forty-three this year. That’s not that old.”

“I count it in dog years.”

“Shut up. Anyway,” Johanna goes on, “you’re funny, crazy, rich - Whoops, misread my notes. You’re crazy rich. And you’ve looked worse.” Hazelle can attest to that. 

Haymitch coughs in wry disbelief. “I’ve looked better.” She can attest to that, too.

“Stop interrupting me on my own show. What I’m getting at is, you’re kind of a catch. It’s just, you know, your reputation precedes you.”

“Sure,” he says, more curt than before, like he’s lost interest. This is completely at odds with their rapt attention in Katniss’ living room. 

“Where is this going?” Peeta asks aloud in a hushed voice while Katniss looks on in dumbstruck horror. Hazelle shakes her head a little but neither of them is looking at her. She’s quickly getting the impression Haymitch doesn’t know, either.

“And as we both know, sometimes what we need is a little outside help. So,” Johanna resolves, making her flinch from six feet and two thousand miles away, “I took the liberty of putting a little something together for you.”

Nobody breathes as this is met with a few seconds of silence.

“Did you now?” It sounds innocent enough - which is to say, bored and dismissive. Hazelle can only imagine the look that came with it.

Johanna is undeterred. “I did! Allow me to share.” There’s the muffled sound of thin papers crinkling - a newspaper being opened, maybe - and then she clears her throat again. “From the personal advertisement section of the District Seven Post: Veteran in his forties with a house, outdoor pets, and too much time on his hands. Tall enough, dark enough, handsome enough. Looking for something, anything.”

Hazelle’s mouth drops open. Katniss and Peeta have their own reactions but she cranes her ear past them so she doesn’t miss what Haymitch says next.

Which is: “Sounds more like a lonely sod than a catch.”

Her eyes drop to her hands folded in her lap. They’ve been clenched so tight the past couple minutes, her knuckles are white and her fingers sore. She works to loosen them.

“The people of Seven would disagree with you there,” Johanna counters. “You got quite the response.”

Hazelle can almost hear the joints in her hands creak as they tighten again.

“I’m sure. You left it too open. Looking for something, anything?” Haymitch quotes, not hiding his derision. “That sounds desperate as all get out.”

His tone is so flat, so flippant, like this is nothing to him but a flopping segment he gets to pan in real time. It might be true. 

He and Hazelle, they’re both alone. They’ve both commiserated about how people make that weird when it doesn’t need to be. It’s okay to be alone. 

She knows he’s lonely. She’s lonely, too, in some ways. It lessens when they’re together, and she’s thought he might feel the same at times. But his therapist told him he needed to get away for a bit, and so that wasn’t something Hazelle could bring up without it meaning things he might not be in a place to receive well.

Johanna interrupts her thoughts. “First of all, you’ve never been clear about your type. So I cast a wide net. And secondly, I wanted to make it true to life without giving you away-”

“I’m not desperate,” he cuts in, his voice a little more raised and irked now.

“Yeah, you’re perfectly content with your bird-less bird feeder and your wobbly porch railing. And leftie,” she adds. “Let me go through the responses. I think you’ll be surprised to find how many people are just looking for someone to talk to.”

“Yeah, sure - talk.”

“Since when did you get so stuffy? You could use a good bit of anything, to be honest. Look, here’s a letter from a guy in the logging camp outside of-”

“Don’t share it on air!” he all but sputters, indignant. “These people didn’t know they’d be broadcast.”

“Oh, hush, it’s anonymous. I don’t mess around with that. The plan is, we’ll go through them and you pick who has the pleasure of going on a blind date with you. That’s what you’re doing tomorrow, by the way. That dinner reservation we made? I’m actually staying home.”

“Johanna-” 

Hazelle’s heart clenches at how desperate he’s starting to sound, wearing thin at the edge of his exasperation.

“I mean, I can sit at a different table if you want. I’ll wear a hat and one of those fake mustaches-”

“I didn’t sign up for that, Jo,” he presses, talking over her. “I won’t do it.”

“Oh, come on. Why not? You have nothing else to do. Just you and your birds - Oh, wait,” she corrects herself breezily, very much on purpose, “you don’t even have-”

“Enough!” he shouts, so loud his microphone shorts and whines. Hazelle is already wincing. 

It feels like the whole world goes quiet and waits with Johanna. 

Haltingly, Haymitch grits out, “I’m… sort of seeing someone already.”

There’s more than a few seconds of on-air silence. Nobody is laughing.

Finally, finally, Johanna comes back with, “Oh.” It’s not dripping with intrigue or even guilt. 

Then, there’s a shuffling of papers.

“Could’ve prefaced with that,” she goes on under her breath, probably for comedic effect. “And there’s no way I’m getting you to share more about-”

“Not a chance.”

“Right.” A small exhale, not quite a sigh. “Well, folks, you never know what you’ll get with me. Sometimes I don’t even know. Special segment cancelled.”

The show ends soon after; Johanna tries to recover the conversation, fill the time with something else, but Haymitch has lost all will to participate. Hazelle almost feels for her, as someone who’s also been on the other end of a sullen Haymitch with his shutters closed.

The living room sits silent through the ending jingle. Hazelle has never heard it until now. 

Peeta breaks the following silence. “Huh. Guess he’ll say anything to get out of a date. And he took the episode down with him. That’s the earliest she’s ever wrapped up.”

Katniss leans back and crosses her arms with a huff. “Serves her right. She had no business doing all that.”

“You can’t say you weren’t a little curious, though? To see how it went? I think it’d be nice if he got a little date out of his trip.”

“Do you hear yourself?” she asks back, her brow raised. “He’s supposed to go and find himself. Not shack up with someone in another district.” She looks disturbed at the thought. 

He starts to grin at her. “What, you think that’s how every date should end?”

“No, I’m just saying-”

They go on like this. But Hazelle barely hears them. She’s staring at the radio.

She’s certain there’s nobody like that in Haymitch’s life. They talk too much for that not to come up. They go on too many walks for her not to notice a whole other person in his life, someone he’s seeing. He’s never even said anything about wanting to date, let alone starting to.

But… Hazelle has the oddest sense Haymitch wasn’t lying just then, like the kids assume. While they could all tell he was starting to feel cornered, his escape didn’t seem painless, either. If that was a last-ditch effort to get Johanna off his case, he held onto it longer than necessary, like he was holding it close and didn’t want to give it up. 

Because maybe he thinks there’s truth in what he’d said.

Which begs the question of who the hell he thinks he’s talking about - because it’s not Hazelle. 

But if it’s not her… who else could it be?

She runs through anyone she can think of in the district that’s even on a first-name basis with him, that she’s heard him commend more than complain about. 

There’s no one else. 

Hazelle doesn’t stay long, which Katniss and Peeta pay no mind; they invited her over to listen to the show, and that’s over now. She leaves thinking about the responses Johanna garnered with her ad. Hazelle ignores how much it eats at her stomach, that she almost heard reply after reply of people interested in something, anything from him - almost heard him give his impressions, deliberate with his host, and pick the winner. All while Katniss and Peeta bickered over it, none the wiser to Hazelle burning a hole in the radio beside them. The idea of a follow-up episode on how the date went makes her face twist up. She has to shake the thought from her head.

She imagines herself reading that newspaper. The man in the ad does sound pretty lonesome - that goes without saying - but he sounds intriguing, too, with baggage of his own. Just like her. Just like so many people these days. She’d read that and reach out and wait to see if anything came of it. Maybe he'd pick her and they'd go to dinner. Someone else might have minded if the man in the ad ended up being Haymitch Abernathy - but she wouldn’t have. At the very least, it would make quite the story, and Hazelle could use some lighter stories in her life again. 

Too bad he’s seeing someone already. 

She just would’ve liked to have known that before the rest of the country.

coda

[no-charity-case]

An analysis of Davey and Katherine's relationship (part 1/2).

I think one of the most interesting developments in the entire show is how Davey and Katherine come to like each other, so let's explore their relationship in another informal essay (part 1).

When Katherine arrives at Jacobi's Deli, Davey is already in a bad mood since Jack forces him (one of the only newsies with a curfew) to go to Brooklyn:

JACK Oh. Me and Davey will take Brooklyn. DAVID Me? No. KATHERINE Why is everyone so scared of Brooklyn?

When she first arrives, David seems to already doubt her qualifications (likely because of her gender) and seems quite amused that she's even trying. It is strange that Davey immediately looks down on her and regards Katherine as an outsider. After all, he doesn't exactly fit in with the other newsies ('auspicious' anyone?), and he isn't dressed like them either.

Plus, he didn't undermine his sister's ability in the 1992 movie or the earlier drafts of it (such as Hard Promises), so I don't see why he deems Katherine incapable on first glance.

Even though David didn't believe in Katherine as a reporter at this point, he still got worried when Jack accused her of following him. As seen in the gif above, he whispers "Oh Jack", places a hand on Jack's arm, and glances back to see her reaction. He is seemingly warning Jack to shut up and not antagonise Katherine. He may dislike her, but David has a level of social etiquette that the other newsies don't.

Where Davey is initially sexist, Katherine is initially classist. She assumes the newsies are unorganised, filthy, and dumb because of their social class. Katherine speaks patronisingly to Jack in particular (which makes sense based on their past meetings), but she also talks to the newsies as if they aren't individuals (she seems to be spitballing somewhat sensationalised headlines rather than seeking genuine answers to her questions).

KATHERINE No. The only thing I’m following is a story. A ragtag gang of ragamuffins wants to take on the king makers of New York? Well, do you think you have a chance? JACK Oh, shouldn’t you be at the ballet? KATHERINE Is the question too difficult? I’ll rephrase. Will the richest and most powerful men in New York give the time of day to a gang of kids who haven’t got a nickel to their name? CRUTCHIE Hey! You don’t gotta be insultin’. I got a nickel.

In response, Davey scoffs (as seen in the second gif). He didn't take kindly to the newsies being dubbed a 'ragtag gang of ragamuffins' and was immediately on the defensive. As soon as she thinks up the 'David and Goliath' analogy, Davey is quick to jump in. He gets out of his seat and approaches her.

KATHERINE So I’d guess you’d say you’re a couple of David’s looking to take on Goliath? DAVID We never said that. KATHERINE Well, you didn’t have to. I did.

Katherine's response, again, disregards the voice of the newsies (which should be the reason she's there: to listen to their answers). She even laughs to herself after her witty response. This causes a slight dislike for both parties. Katherine was likely bothered by Davey's defiance, and Davey was irked by her speaking for them.

Jack also doesn't trust Katherine immediately (alternatively, he may just be arguing with her for argument's sake). He points out that women do not write the serious, important stories. This may even be where David's later sexist comments stem from. As I mentioned prior, it seems out of character, but I'm also not denying that he could feel this way without Jack's input - after all, I do love a good character arc.

JACK You know, I seen a lot of papes in my day and I ain’t never noted no girl reporters writing the hard news.

Katherine fought against this, insisting they need to wake up to the new century and essentially calling them closed-minded. This shuts up Jack and the newsies (who were previously humming and murmuring their approval to his comment).

Although we do see Jojo and Race judging her reply, we can also see Albert, Specs, and Tommy Boy actually listening behind them. We do not get to see Davey's reaction here, but both do make sense for his character.

He could scoff as he did before. After all, he disliked her immediately and wanted to somewhat fit in with the newsies (so he may have mirrored the reaction of Jojo and Race). But the 'Walking Mouth' does seem to appreciate debate and reasoning, and Katherine makes a good argument. So, he could be weighing up whether he should or should not trust her at this point.

She continues by calling either the strike or their petty argument 'entertaining'. I think she means the interaction she is currently having, but I reckon Davey interpreted it to mean their strike. He assumes the worst in her so therefore sees the worst in her.

KATHERINE Well, wake up to the new century. The game’s changing. Now, how about an exclusive interview? JACK Ain’t your beat entertainment? KATHERINE This is entertaining. So far.

Jack and Katherine continue to bicker. Her comeback gets many more of the newsies on her side because she'd now proved to them she was witty and intelligent. David (who likely thought of a similar counterargument himself) is unmoved by this.

JACK Hey, what’s the last news story you wrote? KATHERINE What’s the last strike you organized?

When Katherine puts Romeo in his place, the newsies seem to have more respect for her. Davey is likely the only one who doesn't feel this way because he hasn't known Romeo as long as the others, so he won't be as irritated by his painful romantic ventures.

ROMEO You’re out of your league, Kelly. Methinks the lady needs to be handled by… a real man. KATHERINE You thinks wrong, Romeo. ROMEO How’d she know my name? JACK Get outta here.

So, Davey approaches her again, rejecting her offer from earlier. Now, he could mean a "real reporter" as in someone who writes the serious, important stories, or he could mean a "real reporter" as in a man. Again, that's up to your interpretation, as either can be true.

DAVID I’d say we save any exclusive for a real reporter.

Katherine begins answering Davey, but leaves during the ellipses (below) to talk with Jack. This could be for two reasons. Firstly, Katherine knows there is little she can say at this point to get Davey on her side. Or, it could be that she sees Jack as the leader of the strike. I am more inclined to believe the second because (as we will explore as the post goes on), Katherine considers Jack the leader.

KATHERINE Well, do you see somebody else giving you the time of day? All right. So I’m just busting out of the social pages, but… But you give me the exclusive. Let me run with the story, and I promise I’ll get you the space.

Interestingly, when she first offers the exclusive, she offers it to everyone, but she only speaks to Jack the second time. Again, Katherine is disregarding the voice of the newsies as a group, and she is also disregarding the voice of the actual leader (in terms of the 'brains' behind the strike): Davey.

Now, this could be because Jack is the 'face' of the strike, so is, by extension, the face of the Manhattan newsies. However, I do think that it is strange she doesn't address the group as she did the first time. Why couldn't Crutchie, Race, Specs, Albert, Mush or Elmer give her the interview?

Even more interestingly, in 2012 bootlegs, she appears to offer the first interview directly to David. Her offering the second only to Jack would make more sense in this case, as Davey says, "I’d say we save any exclusive for a real reporter," before the second offer is made (and Katherine likely knows David is not yet on her side).

Davey seems to quickly change his mind on Katherine when she tells Crutchie they'll make the front page. We can see him nod and then reach for Crutchie's arm in a way which communicates 'do you believe this?' or 'let me make sure I'm not dreaming'. The newsies are all excited by Katherine's claim, which may have also helped in winning Davey over. As we can see from his face, he is still cautious. But Katherine's news makes him optimistically cautious (in a similar way to Jack's hundred papes a week promise did in the novel).

CRUTCHIE Hey, you really think we could be in the papes? KATHERINE Well, shut down a paper like The World? You’re gonna make the front page.

This doesn't really relate to the Katherine and Davey topic, but here is the novel extract I referenced in case you haven't read it yet:

David didn't want to be partners with anybody, particularly not with this fast-talking Irish boy who seemed to live on the edge of the law. In David's neighbourhood, the Irish boys and the Jewish boys were always fighting. He especially didn't want to be dependent on his own little brother. But a thousand papers a week! If Jack was right, David and his little brother would be able to support the whole family.

Jack, in a way, reaffirms that he is the only person Katherine needs to speak with as he gives her the exclusive she wants. However, he excitedly rushes over to Davey as he tells her to bring a camera and the two share a moment of eager enthusiasm, suggesting that Jack sees David as crucial to the strike in a way that Katherine does not.

JACK You want a story? Be at the circulation gate tomorrow mornin’, and you’ll get one. Oh, and bring your camera. You’re gonna wanna snap a picture of this!

I think the reason Katherine initially wants the interview with Jack is that she believes he amounts to something more. She doesn't want to interview a 'ragtag gang of ragamuffins', but she doesn't mind interviewing Jack Kelly, the kid who (she assumed) is working his way through art school.

KATHERINE So, what’s your story? Are you selling newspapers to work your way through art school? JACK Art school? Are you kiddin’ me? KATHERINE But you’re an artist. You’ve got real talent. You should be inside the newspaper illustrating, not outside hawking it. JACK Maybe that ain’t what I want.

Even when Jack points out that David is the brains behind the strike, Katherine doesn't believe him. She instead assumes Jack is trying to be modest. So, it is clear that Katherine initially undermines Davey in a similar way he initially undermines her, although her reasoning behind this is also unclear to me (unless she was blinded by her attraction to Jack).

KATHERINE So tell me what you want. JACK Can’t you see it? In my eyes? KATHERINE ….. Yeah, okay. Have you always been their leader? JACK Hey, I’m a blowhard. Davey is the brains. KATHERINE Modesty is not a quality I would’ve pinned on you.

Davey is visibly different to the newsies around him, just look at his costume, or his use of language, or how he stiffly carries himself (not being comfortable in the group yet). Katherine, as we see, is rather sheltered, so she likely didn't think much of it when Davey called, "Hey, come on, Les. The folks are waiting" - she may have assumed they all have parents in a similar way Les did ("doesn't everyone?").

In Watch What Happens, Katherine calls Jack a "modern day David" and I see this as crucial to analysing her relationship with Davey.

KATHERINE Ok. “A modern day David is poised to take on the rich and powerful Goliath with the swagger of one twice his age, armed with nothing more than a few nuggets of truth, Jack Kelly stands ready to face the behemoth Pulitzer.” Now that is how you turn a boy into a legend.

As we see in the 1992 movie, the 'David and Goliath' analogy is based on David, not on Jack. I do love how the main difference between Katherine and Denton is who they interpret the leader of the strike to be (but that's another topic for another post).

DENTON I'm Denton, New York Sun. What's your name? DAVID (suspicious) David… DENTON David. As in David and Goliath?

The reference definitely works better with David (due to them having the same name), and Katherine does know David's name as Jack tells her (and she definitely heard it before she entered Jacobi's Deli). Yet, with this in mind and the fact that Jack told her Davey is the brains, she still decides to use Jack for the analogy.

It seems she doesn't want to accept Davey's role in the strike at all, instead wanting to credit it all to Jack.

Even when we look at the Watch What Happens lyrics, she acknowledges that Jack is the face of the strike (face, not brains). But, in the next breath, she says he is the one who can save them from "sinking in the ocean". I have two potential reasons for this. Her attraction to Jack could be influencing her interpretation of the strike, or she (as a reporter) could decide that what people see is more important than the truth.

So, he's a flirt A complete ego maniac The fact is he's also the face of the strike- What a face- Face the facts, that's a face that could save us all from sinking in the ocean

After the end of Seize the Day, When she celebrates with the newsies after taking their picture, she only goes to Jack. This is because she doesn't yet know any other newsie well because her interview was only with Jack. Davey celebrates with Crutchie.

It would have been nice to see Katherine and David share a happy moment together as it would show they had put their initial judgements aside. Then again, the pair likely still don't see the true importance of the other (especially on Katherine's end as she still feels it's only Jack who is the leader).

I'm not sure if David begins to like her now (as she's just taken their picture, so she's clearly serious about reporting on the strike), or when he learned she might get them to the front page (during their first meeting in the deli), or after he learns she got them to the front page (King of New York).

As Wiesel and the Delanceys show up, one of the scabs, Sniper, taps Davey's arm, implying that Davey had solidified himself as a leader within the newsies (after all, David was the one to kindly convince the three to throw down their papers, whereas Jack intimidated and shoved them). It is clear Davey is getting more and more respect in the group.

Katherine must have noticed David's co-leader role by now, though, because she specifically speaks to him in the next scene (King of New York) when Jack is away. However (I'll speak more on this when we get there), it is clear that Katherine still sees Jack as more important than Davey.

The lack of connection Katherine has with the other newsies doesn't last too long. During the fight, she checks in on Specs. From the very chaotic proshot clip, it seems that she runs over to him, which is a huge growth in her character. This is likely because she saw first-hand that the boys didn't do all that much wrong to deserve this brutal treatment, which challenged her prior beliefs about the "ragtag gang of ragamuffins".

In the 2012 bootlegs, Katherine leaves as soon as the fight begins, so she does not have this interaction. I do appreciate that the proshot decided to have her check in on the newsies though, as it is a small change which makes a big difference.

Unfortunately, we don't get to see Katherine and Davey interact during these scenes, so we do not know how their relationship is at the very end of Act 1.

In Act 2 their relationship changes significantly, but I wish I could've seen them interact at the end of Act 1 or before she tells them they made the front page.

When Katherine enters Jacobi's Deli, all the newsies are dejected and defeated from the fight. Katherine refers to them as 'gentlemen', showing that she has shaken off her classist prejudgements. This change in her language choices may also show a change in her and Davey's relationship, as (like we've discussed) his dislike either began from sexism or when she called the newsies 'ragamuffins'.

KATHERINE Good morning, gentlemen. Oh. Would you get a load of these glum mugs. Wait, can these really be the same boys who made front page of The New York Sun?

Either way, her new way of addressing them does show that she and the newsies now have mutual respect (which she definitely didn't have with all the scoffing from the first meeting).

As she talks, she tries to cheer them up. On "glum mugs" she lightly squeezes Elmer's shoulder, which is a very comforting action and something she wouldn't have even considered when she first met them. The newsies touch anyone for any reason (to name a few: in playfulness, in anger, in excitement, to motivate, or to comfort).

Davey and Katherine go through similar journeys with physical touch. They initiate touch when they see themselves as accepted by and integrated into the group. So, by this point, Katherine sees herself as a comrade rather than someone who is 'above' or 'superior' to the newsies.

Katherine still speaks in that sensationalised tone of voice, but she is now using it to uplift rather than undermine the group: "Can these really be the same boys who made front page?". Of course, her initial interview wasn't supposed to be uplifting, but as we explored, she disregarded and spoke down to them rather than aligning herself as an equal.

However, she is now focused on the newsies. She excitedly presents the newspapers to them, and is happy to see their moods immediately lift.

Katherine getting them to the front page seems to be why Davey's opinion on her changed; he now sees her as a 'real reporter'.

DAVID You got us in the pape? KATHERINE You got yourselves in the pape.

Look at the image above with the description "An image of Kathrine being proud of the newsies while she says they are the reason they made the front page, not her. David looks as if he's regretting that he judged her." David regrets doubting her capability as a reporter and gives her credit for what she's done (showing growth from when he initially disregarded her), but Katherine credits him and the newsies instead, implying how she sees their strike as equally important to her career, and showing her personal growth (as her first interaction was insensitive and patronising).

SPECS So, what else you got? KATHERINE Mine’s the only story that ran. Pulitzer declared a blackout on strike news, so even I’m shut down now.

Specs and Davey stick around to hear if Katherine had any more news (they both seem to be the two newsies closest to Katherine). Albert half sticks around, but it seems he wants to talk to Specs rather than gather more information, and it also isn't really important to this post.

However, Specs and Davey seem to be equally interested in Katherine as they are in the strike. They are disappointed in the blackout for strike news, but they also feel saddened that Katherine is shut down.

KATHERINE Hey, I heard they arrested Crutchie. Did they get Jack too?

She asks Davey this. This suggests two things. Firstly, the pair have a more sensitive and vulnerable relationship. Or (the interpretations could also be an and by the way), Katherine sees Davey as Jack's right-hand man. I'm not fully sure she sees him as a co-leader quite yet, but she definitely realises he plays a very active role in the union.

As the newsies detail what they'd like in King of New York, Katherine shows interest and support. She is far wealthier than the newsies (as she's literally Pulitzer's daughter), but she knows how much a pair of matching laces or a sandwich ('pastrami on rye with a sour pickle') means to them. Plus, she seems to be doing some sort of variation of 'good one' each time the newsies suggest things they'd like, even when they're objectively never going to get it ('a solid gold watch with a chain to twirl it').

DAVEY (sung) A regular beat for the star reporter!

While the newsies all think of things they'd like for themselves, Davey says what he wants for Katherine, and she looks very flattered by this. It's such a sweet interaction between the two, and I think it aptly showcases how they've come to like and respect each other (which is a clear growth from their first interaction).

Feel free to look up the definition yourself, as mine is quite lousy. Beat reporting is when a journalist has their own specialised topic (or 'beat') they write about consistently and expertly. Davey is essentially saying that Katherine is a real and capable reporter who deserves a promotion.

She sits with Specs, Davey, and Les during King of New York, and I'd say she has the strongest relationship with those three. Here we see her talking with Davey, and they both have a massive smile on their face.

Davey is playful with Katherine during the spoon dance, tapping his spoons on her hands. He still does this in the proshot, but the camera is (rightfully so) focused on Jojo having a blast instead. We can hear Davey excitedly shout "Katherine!" just before he taps the spoons on her hands.

Katherine also says a few things during this section of the dance, but I can't fully hear it: "yes, ???" (I think it's a newsie's name as she's cheering someone on, it might even be 'Dave/Davey') and I have no idea what the second thing she says is, perhaps "yeah, fellas!"

Based on the transcript (following 'but I was a star for one whole minute'), this is all the dialogue. It doesn't assign who says what though, which is unfortunate.

[Instrumental Dance Break] NEWSIE COMPANY & KATHERINE Yeah! / Alright! / Hey come on boys! / Oh my gosh! / Come on man! / You know, I taught him to do this. / Allright Albert! / Yeah! / He’s got things in his pockets! / Spoon Fight! / Come on! / Got ‘em! [Race and Smalls do the splits] Ow. / Got ‘em! Got ‘em! / Here we go! / You guys are great! / Here’s a big one! / Woah! / Come on Katherine! Let us see ya! [Katherine dances.]

However, I'm not sure all of it is fully accurate to the livesies recording as we can hear Davey say "Katherine, that's not fair, I mean he's got things in his mouth," but it isn't included in what I've pasted above. Here's a short audio file showing this:

Davey encourages Katherine the most in King of New York. He eagerly rushes over to her, trying to get her to dance and include herself in the group's fun. They are very similar characters when it comes to confidence, and he notices her reluctance but pushes her to try dancing anyway (similarly to how Jack encouraged him into the strike).

After she holds back and does a poor job, the newsies tease her:

DAVID That’s it? TOMMY BOY You gotta be kidding me. HENRY Boo. ROMEO That’s the best you got?

The newsies are very rowdy, and she responds well to them by putting more effort in and proving that she can dance.

All the newsies are proud of her, but Davey seems to be the happiest. Just look at the bright smile on his face. For Katherine and Davey, partaking in this celebration is so much more than the excitement of the strike making the front page; it's also about feeling at home with the newsies. Neither of them are outsiders anymore, and they are now happy to act silly and have fun with the newsies (which neither of them would have considered doing in the first Jacobi's Deli scene).

He brings her a chair and holds her hand as she kicks on it (he also has one hand on the chair to keep it stable for her). We can hear him say, "Come on, Katherine!" and the pair are just having the time of their lives.

Towards the end of King of New York, Katherine and Davey exchange a look that communicates pride, and a sense of 'can you believe it'.

At this point in the musical, they have a close relationship.

Katherine, Davey, and Les all leave together after King of New York, showing that the three have grown close. She sits on the stairs, and Les stands nearby (I can't see Davey in the clip). He's either spending time with them or he trusts Katherine enough to leave Les in her care (which he does during the search for Jack anyway).

When the newsies are searching for Jack, we can see Katherine and Davey talking. They have to work together to get Jack back, and we can see them spreading what they've just discussed to the other newsies. They make a great team as both of them are united, organised, determined, and calm about the situation.

David is searching for Jack alone, and Katherine is looking after Les, which shows his progression as a character (as he no longer needs Les nearby to know he's safe) and shows how much Davey actually trusts Katherine.

My next section is unfortunately cut off because only thirty images are allowed per post (I can add three more to this post, but I feel like part 2 should begin on my next point rather than splitting it between two posts). So, I will update with part 2 shortly.