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juvenillia · 6 months

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~ tangled series ~ part 2

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader x John 'Soap' MacTavish

summary: Simon needs some distraction after Johnny is away on a mission for a longer time. So he finds him a casual ons, but just like his partner before he found something different and things become even more complicated.

a/n: Welcome back to part 2 of the tangled series. This time I got a bit carried away but I hope you like it. So yeah still porn with plot, but this time more plot.

cw/tw: suggestive content, pure smut , bi!Soap, bi!Ghost, Ghoap, flirting, petnames, piv, unprotected sex, fingering, drinking, open relationship/situationship, catcalling,

worcount: 5.5k

》Masterlist《》 Read on AO3 《》Master Post《

Everything turned out to be easier with Johnny at his side. Sure, as hell, that missions became somehow more strained. Simon always wanted to protect all his teammates, no matter the fact that he knew fairly well that every one of the 141 were extremely capable of their tasks. Still, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing even one of them. And as soon as Johnny and him reached an agreement on their relationship terms, Simon became more restless considering the thought of getting the Scot injured. Everyone he ever let get close to him had to follow the sad fate of dying sooner than expected. Always too soon. Maybe that was the reason that Ghost didn’t accept on a serious relationship with him. Maybe that’s why they sorted things out and agreed on a kind of ‘friends with benefits situationship’, with no strings attached. Even if they were more attached than both actually saw.

That’s also the reason he wasn’t feeling alright. He felt more anxious, more at edge lately. Usually, he would drop by that specific Scot to keep his demons at bay. Simon could simply search out for his presence to make himself feel better, but since Soap needed to head out three weeks ago, there was simply no possibility to do so. The radio silence only exacerbated the tension and his nightmares. He couldn’t stay relaxed on leave when he didn’t know how his not-boyfriend was doing right now. What if Simon could change something about the situation? No, Price wanted him to rest after the last operation that took way longer than it was planned.

Maybe all that lead him to this situation. He was seated at a bar he frequented a lot of times when on leave. It wasn’t too far away from the base, just in case. He booked a hotel nearby because drinking and driving is irresponsible. And just like this he spent the nights in the ‘Downunder’. A pub that was run by Steven. Steven was a bit older than him, the owner, and bartender. He did know a lot about good whisky’s, always had a joke at hand, and most important he granted Simon his peace. He could sit there the whole night, listening to talks from strangers, sometimes some good live music, and just sit in silence. Sure, he got approached by some woman and dudes, mostly asking him about the mask, the black skull balaclava he always wore. But most of the times it was calm, and he could drown his thoughts with alcohol, and the best about it, nobody knew him here. Sure, there were some regulars that remembered his mask, but they went after their business and left the Brit alone. Nobody knew his name, or what he was doing for a living.

It was a usual Saturday when he found himself in these familiar surroundings. His glance was on the screen of his phone as he sat at the bar. Pinned on the little last seen status from Johnny that still told him a date about three weeks ago. A deep sigh left his throat. “Tough night?” an unfamiliar voice dragged his attention up. It wasn’t the usual bearded man greeting him behind the bar, it was a younger woman wearing a gentle smile, just polishing a whisky glass. His brows furrowed at the sight, what earned him a quite chuckle from you. “Stevie had a family emergency, so he asked me to fill in for tonight.” You simply placed the glass in front of him. Simon only nodded, somehow annoyed for need to get used to a new person, especially while he was in such an unsettled mood right now. “So, Dalmore Port or Craigellachie?” You placed your palm flat on the wooden counter, next to the still empty glass.

Simon tilted his head slightly and his brows arched even more. “Dalmore Port,” he answered stern, as you turned on your heel with a sweet hum to pull out the bottle and pour him a good glass of the desired drink.

“Not quite the chatter, huh?” you said while shoving the glass over in front of him, your soft smile never leaving your features.

He pulled his mask up only the slightest to reveal the perfect shaped jawline covered in a subtle stubble. Only high enough that the glass could meet his lips, as he shook his head no. “What a shame. Usually, people that sit at the bar are up to talks. But that’s your loss then,” you chimed teasingly throwing him a wink, as you turned your attention to another customer approaching the bar. Simon watched your every movement and something about you got him hooked. The way you talked so melodic, the way you gracefully moved along the bar to prepare the desired drinks. Maybe it wasn’t that bad that Steven wasn’t here. Maybe you were a fresh breeze of distraction for his mind.

From time to time, you tried to start an easy chat with him, but he only shortcut the answers. Somehow distant, still not so fond of the getting to know you part. Still, your features never even faltered a bit, like a natural beam of sunshine. Simon started to ask himself, how a fragile, soft, and pretty figure like you could work in such a place. Stevie entrusted you with the place he called his second child, but what would happen if things escalated? You wouldn’t be able to handle a bar fight, so Simon made sure to spend the whole night here. Just in case, and definitely not for any other reason than that. He knew better than that. Did he though?

That way it was already about one in the morning when the band packed up and left the bar and most of the customers left with them. Only a biker squad at one of the larger tables, something that looked like a bachelor party of some businessmen at another table and some random lonely dudes were left. Simon was one of them. That’s when the bachelor party demanded a larger order for shots and beers and asked if you’d bring them over. The pure nature you were you agreed on it. Nothing unusual to be honest. So, you grabbed a tablet and placed everything on it and made your way over the table. It was the very first time Simon were able to get a concrete look at your whole statue. A pair of black skinny jeans paired with a tight turtleneck that left nothing to the imagination. The little apron wrapped around your waist hugged your curves perfectly fine, as you swayed your hips naturally while walking over the table. Eventually Simon drowned his drink at the sight, before quickly adjusting his mask again.

As you crossed the table from the biker squad, one of the bulky tattooed men whistled after you. It made Simon’s jaw clench, but you just turned gracefully around, not spilling even a drop of liquor in the turn. “I know you like what you see, no need to remind me, Marcus,” you chimed while turning back to your actual direction. Simon’s jaw was still locked. You bend down to the table from the already quite drunken bachelor party and placed the glasses around for each member, before straightening up again. “There you go.” You still wore that same sweet smile.

Just as you turned once more to head back to the bar as one of those men took grip of your wrist. “Why don’t cha stay here, sweetheart.” One of them whined while pulling you back. Tension built in the back of Simon’s muscles, as he watched the scene. Preparing himself to step in.

A sigh left your throat as you tried to keep the happy face up. “Feeling honored, but I still have other customers to serve,” you stated soft. Not moving an inch.

“Nah, they can rot. Stay here.” He pulled you closer that you needed to bend over again, being on eyelevel with the drunken man.

That was the moment when Simon stood up from his place. Eyes glaring at the situation in front of him. But before he stepped in, he noticed the sudden change in your voice. “Sit,” you ordered with such a stoic voice that the man in front of you loosen the grip around your wrist and you straightened your back once more. Such an unexpected tone for your sunshine nature. Simon didn’t know if your order was aimed at him, but he also didn’t realize that the guy from earlier, Marcus was his name, also stood up. Who now slowly sat down again. Simon still stood there, not averting his gaze from you. Your posture was different to before, tense but not frightened. “Listen hun…” Your arms folded over your chest. “I don’t care who you think you are, but you’re nothing more than a cockroach here. If you get on my nerves, you’ll be escorted and not in the way you’d like to.” Your voice was so cold. The man in front of you only gulped. A mischievous grin growing on your lips, your hand slowly moved alongside your curves. “Besides, that’s nothing you could ever afford,” you remarked with more cockiness laying in your tone, before heading back to the bar again.

Simon sat back at his place before you returned. “Impressive…” he stated as he still watched every move you made. It earned him a soft chuckle, as you once more winked at him.

“Maybe I just wanted to impress you.” With that statement he felt his cheeks burn. He was really glad that his mask was neatly in place, but still, he couldn’t suppress a low laugh escaping his throat. You reminded him so much of something he missed too much. Just a bit softer, a bit more elegant but as much of a tease and flirt as the Scot.

The rest of the night went on without any more incidents. All customers left the bar sometime after, and that’s how Simon found himself in the cold and dark night in front of the pub. It took you about forty-five minutes to close and clean up. During those forty-five minutes he could’ve walked away, he could’ve simply decided to leave. And still he found himself leaned against a streetlamp, as he decided to insist to walk you home. Making sure you’d arrive save at home. It was an urge he couldn’t fight. He ignited a fag and waited those minutes until he recognized your figure. A smile crept on your face as you took notice of him.

You slowly approached him. “No Mrs. waiting for you?” you asked jokingly while closing your jacket.

“Nah.” That’s the first time he gave some information about him away. His mouth was quicker than his mind. Your intoxicating smile made it hard for him to contain himself, the alcohol rushing through his veins did the rest. His answer made your smile grew.

“I see.” You reached out to steal the fag from his grip to take a drag yourself. The smile never leaving your features as you could feel his intense glance onto you. Eventually you could witness a low growl escaping his throat before he shook his mind clear.

“So, what’s the plan mysterious stranger?” You teased while exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. “You gonna drag me to an alley and kill me?” You passed the cigarette back to him and the corner of his lips tugged up.

“Thought ‘f walking ya home, to prevent that exact incident.” He took another drag of the cigarette and could feel a slight burn in his abdomen as he tasted your sweet lip balm on the cigarette.

“A true gentleman, huh?” You grinned “Or a serial killer.”

“Up to ya to find out.” Now it was his time to tease, and it only ignited something within you.

“Good then that I don’t actual live here.” You winked at him as you started to walk into the direction of your temporally home. Simon trailed close behind.

You walked in completely silence, somehow you were too tense to speak right now. He indeed made you nervous now. It wasn’t like you never brought someone over after a long shift or hooked up with someone in a bar. It wasn’t that regular, only guys that somehow really caught your attention. What didn’t happen so often. But this masked man had something on him, that pulled you under his spell. Something you didn’t feel so often. Rounding a few corners before your stood in front of a not so cozy motel. He insisted to guide you up to your door, and you didn’t argue. How could you when his eyes already burned themselves into your brain.

That way you found yourself in front of the door to your room. “Thanks. Mind to tell me your name, that I can show my gratitude?” You smiled while facing him. Looking in those deep dark orbs his eyes were. He didn’t answer, instead he placed his index finger and thumb under your chin to tilt it up only the slightest. His eyes never leaving yours. The breath got caught into your throat while your lips slightly parted.

Usually he would pull back, call it a night, and give in to his demons. But not tonight. Tonight, he found a soul that could distract him as much as only Johnny could. And he needed that. It was selfish, it was something he didn’t like to do. But what could possibly go wrong? Nothing? Johnny himself did hook up with a girl at some time in their relationship – no situationship. They were okay with it, so why shouldn’t Simon for once have something good for himself.

He stepped forward, invading your personal space while leaning in. His glance still pinned onto yours. “No names,” he breathed out, while his free hand pulled at the hem of his mask. Once more only the slightest to reveal his lips. His eyes checking onto your glance, only to look for hint of hesitation.

“That comes at a price.” Your lips were formed into a smile as you closed the gap. He didn’t care about a price to pay, right now he only wanted this, he wanted you. His grip on your chin tightened as his other hand found your back to pull you closer to deepen the kiss. The sensation in his guts literally burning himself as he tasted your lips, while he already felt his pants tighten. It wasn’t a rough, sloppy kiss, but so passionate. It left you breathless as you parted to open the door. You walked backwards, eyes never leaving the intense glance from the behemoth of a man in front of you. He kicked the door shut as he followed you in.

Both of you removed your jackets as it turned too hot in here anyways. And in an instant, he was back on you. His calloused hands gripping on your waist while you clung around his neck. Slightly slipping under the mask to feel some strains of his hair, while your kisses turned more heated. Until you caught his lower lips between your teeth, and he let out a deep groan that sent shivers down your spine. Back was the grin full of mischief on your lips.

“Mask stays on, I suppose,” you teased while pulling away from him. Slowly walking over to the bed and pulling your turtleneck over your head to reveal your upper body, left only in an all-black laced bra.

“Affirmative,” he stated trailing behind you. A slight giggle run over your lips as you sat on the bed. Reaching out to him to pull him on top of you as you laid down. He followed your lead without hesitation. He was huge, you could feel the bulge in his trousers brushed over your sensitive spot as he leaned down to let his tongue slip into your mouth. You let out a moan at his demanding movements as his hands roamed down your body. His beefy hands felt so rough against your soft skin, and still it was a feeling you somehow missed a lot. He couldn’t help himself but started to grind his hips against your clothed crotch. “’m gonna take ma time with ya.” His hot breath brushed over your skin as he leaned down to place open mouthed kisses along your neck. Your hands found his brawn shoulders as your nails dig in.

Another deep moan escaped your throat as he suddenly stopped. You looked with lust blown pupils and a raised pair brow at him. His lips curled up in a cocky smile. He pulled his hoodie over his head, without disturbing the mask, which stayed magically neatly in place. Just to reveal a tight compression shirt, that clung to his toned body just perfectly. Revealing a tattoo sleeve at one arm and some scars across his skin. One of his hands cupped your breast, when you could hear his deep voice once more. “Ya know the traffic light system.” His hands squeezed your breast as the other took grip of your hip. You nodded eagerly. “Use ya words, luv,” he teased with his thumb along your waistband.

“Green keep going. Yellow break. Red stop.”, Your breath hitched in the back of your lungs as you felt your body filling with anticipation.

“Good gurl,” he praised, his eyes trailing down your body as he licked over his lips at the sight.

As he fumbled with your trousers to free you, you got a good sight of his hardened member that would await you later. You raised your hips to make it easier for him to took them off, and instant of lowering them again, he pressed your legs up, placing his mouth onto your panties. It earned him another sweet moan. He was way too turned on from the way you reacted to him as he held your legs in place.

“So wet f’ me already.” He pulled your panties aside to let his tongue run through your folds, while one of his fingers circled around your hole.

“Fuck,” you cried out and he once more stopped.

He placed another finger next to your hole, let them get soaked with your liquid. “Color, luv,” he said with such an endearing and at the same time demanding tone, it made your hips thrust.

“Green.” You quickly answered to finally feel the needed friction. And without hesitation he pushed inside while his mouth started to suck at your clit. It made your back arch. It was ridiculous how fast a familiar burn built up in your stomach. The combination of his sucking and his fingers pushing and curling inside you already brought you so close.

Your hands wandering down to grip onto his hair, but you only found the fabric of his mask. “Nuhuh. Be a good gurl f’ me.” It made you moan out as he stopped his movement again. Edging you when you were already out of breath. From the grin he wore you assumed he know fairly well what he did to you. You nodded, as your hands trailed to the sides of you gripping on the sheets. “Better,” he said while he placed his mouth onto you again. “Taste so bloody fuckin’ delicious,” he moaned against your clit while he added another of his beefy fingers to your insides. He could feel how your whole body trembled and how your walls started to clench around his digits. “Cum f’ me, luv.” he groaned while the pace of his digits picked up. And just as he demanded you did, without hesitation. His fingers slowed down as he guided you through your first orgasm. “Gonna be a long bloody night,” he said while sitting back, sucking his fingers clean from your cum. Letting your legs down as you caught your breath.

The now free hand stroked over his clothed cock, that already started twitching at the delicate sight in front of him. You sit carefully up to face him properly. A smile planted on your face. A smile full of mischief. “I hope so,” you stated while moving to sit on your knees. Fumbling with his belt. He instantly pulled you into a deep kiss again and you could taste yourself on his tongue. His mask was soaked in your liquids as much as your panties. A little souvenir you’d grant him. Something he was already grateful for, because he literal could grow addicted to your scent, to your taste. Something he wouldn’t let happen, but right now it was alright. Right now, in the heat of the moment he let it happen and enjoyed it.

Kneeling before him on the mattress you reached out to free his cock, distracted from the dizzying kisses he continued to assault you with. When he finally sprang free you leant down to take him in your mouth, only to startle as he laid down, tugging you with him. His strong arms maneuvering you to sit backwards on his face, letting you brace your hands against his abdomen as he mouthed at your cunt. Licking the drops of pre up from his glossy tip made the behemoth of a man moan deeply beneath you. He instantly started to eat you out once more as you carefully placed your lips around his length. Taking in as much as your throat granted you. Gagging a few times, what only made his member twitch and his mouth groan against your sensitive spot. It didn’t take long until you started to grind yourself over his mouth.

His hands firmly placed onto your ass, squeezing it all so often while one of his fingers circled around the hole that wasn’t occupied by his mouth. He only pulled away for a second when you already spoke up. “Green, god damn.”Before taking his dick back into your throat. Your reaction made him laugh, before he returned to his task. Completely ruining his face with your cum. It was the second time when he pushed you over the edge so effortlessly, it made tears build up in the corner of your eyes from pure pleasure. You needed more; you needed him.

You turned around to place you above his dripping cock, but before you could lower yourself, he switched places with you. Manhandling you like you weighted nothing, and he was between your legs on top of you. “ ‘m not finished with ya.,” he growled while his mouth found yours again. Wiggling his trousers completely of him when his length brushed over your folds.

“Need that. Please,” you whined as the desperate demand in you grew higher. The deep chuckle could be heard once more.

“Such a needy pretty thing.” He let his hard cock once more slide over your cunt. “Ya think ya ready to take me.” One of his hands stroke over your hair, that was slightly dump from the sweat.

You nodded, before you remembered what he wanted to hear. “Green,” you said with a smile. And he looked down at you. His eyes filled with so much lust but at the same time there was adoration hidden behind the darkness of his pupils.

He placed a soft kiss onto your forehead. “That’s ma gurl,” he praised while his teeth locked around your earlobe. He slowly pushed the tip inside and immediately could feel your back arch. He kept him steady on top of you, not lowering himself completely. “Gonna ruin ya f’ any other man out there,” he committed as he pushed deeper and deeper. You whined out at his thickness. “Hush. Ya can take it. I know it.” His soft tone with the lustful deep voice sent you into an addictive haze.

It took him some time to button out, and as soon as you adjusted and gave him another green light he started with an unforgettable pace. “That’s it, luv.” His hands were still on your head, keeping you to face him while he thrusted inside you until you started to see stars. You felt so god damn full and good. The room filled with the lewd sounds of skin smacking against each other combined with his sweet praises. You didn’t know how long it took till you felt his thrusts grew sloppy; you didn’t know how many more orgasms he pulled out of you until then. But the moment came, and you could feel how his body started to give in. Clinging onto yours for the sake of his own life.

That’s when you started to trace lazy circled around his neck. “Just let go,” you said softly with the rest of energy your body held. “Cum inside of me, darling.” Your voice pushing him closer, as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. Arms slung around you, holding you steady as his thrusts grew slower, but deeper than before. Pushing the spongy spot inside of you. Completely overstimulated you didn’t know if you could just come another time, but it didn’t matter to you. “I wanna feel it.” You assured him one more time, before he completely let go and painted your walls with his cum. Your head falling further back into the pillow as you felt his release.

He collapsed onto you, while your hands stroked over his sweaty body. He needed to pull out, still he couldn’t bring himself to. It was too comfortable, too warm. He could still feel your walls clenching around him. Your voice was the only thing that made him pull back. “Yellow, darling. I think I can’t take anymore.” Your words were filled with so much endearment. It let his stomach turn as he started to clean you and himself up. Not caring about anything, before collapsing onto bed once more.

His head laying onto your bare chest, while his hand took grip around your waist. ”Ya did so good f’ me, luv”. You placed a kiss onto the sweaty fabric of his balaclava.

“Thank you, mysterious stranger.” You giggled when he couldn’t suppress a small laugh. Why did it feel so good and familiar? It was what scared him a bit, but as soon as darkness washed over his sight, he couldn’t care about it anymore. After three weeks he finally found some peace and rest again. Laying here in your arms, where no nightmare could bring him any harm. He was safe.

Simon wasn’t used to one night stands, well not to those ones where he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Usually, he would stay awake till his hook up fell asleep to sneak out of the apartment. But with you? He couldn’t leave. So just like that he woke up the next morning, or better said late afternoon. He couldn’t remember when he slept this long, apart from the time the both of you went to sleep anyway. The scent of freshly brewed coffee woke him up. You stood into the little kitchenette, only a fresh pair of panties and an oversized hoodie.

“Good mornin’ darling,” you chimed while bringing a coffee over to him. As he took the mug, he realized how fucked up this whole situation was. What was if that lead to something wrong? Something he couldn’t provide you with. Something that he swore to Johnny he couldn’t agree on. You could literally see the turns in his head, and just placed another kiss on the stained mask. “Don’t worry. This can stay a casual fling between two strangers,” you cooed with a soft giggle, and he nodded.

Still, when he arrived at his hotel later that day, his head hurt as much as his heart ached. Not because of the alcohol, nor because of the guilt he slept with you. It was of the fact that something in him wanted it to be more. Just like Simon wanted it to be more with Johnny than just a casual fling. But he couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t corrupt you into the mess his life was. And he wouldn’t break Johnny’s heart. With you it was easier. He would always hold tight to that night in his memory. Especially when he didn’t have so many memories to think back in happiness. But he hadn’t to face you again, he didn’t even know your name. He could easily return to his life. With this mental note he spent the last few days of his leave alone in a hotel room with the sheer memory of your breathtaking smile and that intoxicating scent, and how good this one would mix with the scent of his beloved Scot.

It was now about two months ago when things settled again. Johnny came back together with their Captain, and everything was alright. Simon’s mind could finally calm down. Even if his dreams often sent him back to that night with you. But right now, there were more important things to do. Price got back with an injury that didn’t allow him to get back to work. So, Ghost had to fill in his position for some time. Nothing he wasn’t used to. But what he wasn’t used to is when this time passed the four-week mark and the three members of the 141 started to worry about their Captain. So, Kyle reached out to him to ask about his status and was somehow surprised when John did invite the three men over for a dinner at his home. Just to catch up about the important things and plan a bit ahead.

That’s how Simon pulled the car into a driveway of a cozy looking home. The drive to their Captain home was filled with heavy assumptions from Kyle and Johnny how he would live, if there would be kids running around and stuff like that. But they had lost all their assumptions as soon as the door opened and they saw a weak looking John, a cast around his left arm and a loop to hold it steady in place. “Come on in boys,” he said while guiding them into a warm living room which also served as dining room. Everyone took a place at the table and soon the three were kind of confused, because the table was prepared for five people, not only for the four of them.

“Is Kate coming?” Kyle asked with a teasing tone, as he took the chair at the head of the table. Simon and Johnny sat down next to each other at the window side, while John sat next to an empty chair, who only shook his head no.

“You’ll see soon enough,” he sighed a bit tense.

Simon pulled out some papers and maps as they chatted a bit about some reports and the last operations until they heard a door open another time. John tilted his head into the direction of the sound. “Need a helping a hand, sunshine?”

“One doesn’t quite do the job.” A muffled female voice echoed through the hallway.

“I have six more to lend now,” he said jokingly as the steps grew louder. The anticipation within the boys only growing. But the image in front of them let their blood run cold. Never had they expected the sight of you walking over to the dining table with your usual sweet smile. Simon could feel a rope lacing around his throat as he was unable to breath. Kyle blinked in utter confusion as you bend over John's shoulder and greeted the men in front of you.

“You’re a bad host John. Not even offering them drinks?” You punched his healthy shoulder playfully. Johnny could’ve sworn he needed to throw up. He never thought he would be able to see you again. The chances were so low, and he was sure if the fates were in his favor, he would be thrilled about it, but now he was only nauseous. Your glance wandered over the table and sigh left your throat. “John…” You straightened, and he mirrored your concerned filled face. “You promised me, no work tonight.”

“Yeah, sunny, you’re right.” The smile growing back on your face as your glance trailed over the boys. “We put it away, right boys?”, the be said men only nodded tense as you winked at them.

“So, three whiskeys, I suppose?” You ruffled through John’s short hair teasingly. Before turning back to the head of the table. “And a beer?” A mischievous smile on your lips before you turned on your heel to get said drinks.

The boys only stared after you, mouths slightly agape. “Stop it.” John had to clear his throat to drag them back into the here and now. Kyle and Johnny only exchanged some quick glances, as Simon sat there in completely silence, his glance still pinned onto you from the corner of his eyes. Nobody thought that things got to be this tangled, but right now, they eventually started to regret a few things, because you were right. Things always had a price.

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@cooliofango @ghostslillady @anothersimpsblog

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #cod x reader #soap x reader #ghost x soap #soap x reader x ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #ghoap x reader #simon ghost riley smut #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

Text

Apothecary - Chapter Six

joel miller x witchy!reader

series masterlist

living in an aftermath, joel tries to hold her together as she falls apart.

warnings | 18+ smut, significant angst, canon-typical violence

wordcount: 4.3K (we were concise this week lol)

a/n | this is a rather insular chapter, and it happens to be one of my favorites so far. feel free to drop me a line and let me know what you think <3

p.s. if i had to offer one song for this chapter, it'd be magneto by nick cave and the bad seeds (yes, more nick cave, sue me)

.......................................

“Nothing?” “I don’t think she even touched the plate, old man.” Ellie huffs, setting the plate of what had been dinner down on the kitchen counter, the plate that Joel had placed in front of the closed guestroom door last night with a quiet plea for her to eat something. But judging by the untouched look of the food, his plea went unanswered.

“Alright, kid, I’ll check on her. You better get to school.” Ellie nods, though she makes no move to leave, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she looks at him.

“Do you think she’s gonna, like, be ok?” Joel has to clear his throat before answering her, trying to make his voice sound as certain as he can.

“She’ll be ok, kid. It’s just a– a hard thing– what happened. But she’ll be ok, I’m gonna make sure of it.” Ellie offers him a faint smile, her brow still scrunched up in worry.

“We’ll make sure of it, right? I can help too, y’know.” He has to smile at that, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze as he nods.

“I know, kid. You’re right, we’ll make sure she’s ok. Now you better get to class before you’re late– again.” It’s just enough levity for her smile to broaden, her eyes to roll with a huff, and then Ellie’s out the door, and Joel’s shoulders slump immediately.

When he goes upstairs, Stevie is laying in front of the guestroom, swiping her paw under the closed door in what could only be frustration. She and Stevie have been staying with them for a little over two weeks now. It hadn’t been soon after that day he found her in her shop that she showed up in the middle of the night at his front door, wide-eyed and disheveled. She hadn’t known where else to go after someone had thrown a rock into one of the windows of her house. And then, when he had walked her to her shop the next morning, he had been stunned speechless at the words smeared over the door in thick, black paint.

Witch

Slut

Baby killer

She hasn’t left his house since, and she’s barely left the guestroom he set her up in either.

“Darlin? I’m coming in, alright?” He doesn’t wait for a response, knowing now from prior experience that he’d just be waiting forever. Stevie darts in the second he cracks open the door, making a beeline for the bed where her mom is curled up under a swath of blankets, even though it’s the beginning of September and still plenty warm out.

He kneels down alongside the bed, right next to where her face is half smushed into her pillow, her eyes cracking open to peer at him. Faded dark circles face him, and his heart catches at the sight.

“Hey, darlin. Think we oughta get some food in you, huh?” She lets out a long sigh, blinking hard a few times.

“Not right now, Joel. I’m just– really tired.” That’s become her new favorite phrase, and it scares him more than when she had been endlessly crying. It’s always said on a breathy exhale, like she’s trying to be casual about the fact that she’s been in bed for days, and seems to have no plans of getting out anytime soon. Any emotion is masked behind her flat voice and vacant eyes, and he’d give just about anything for a glimmer of something. Anger, sadness, he’d even take fear right now, just any proof that she’s still there. But there’s nothing, just her owlish stare, and Stevie nuzzling up against the blankets.

“Alright, not right now. Will you drink some water, at least? For me, please?” You’d think that he just asked her to run a marathon with the exhausted huff she lets out, shifting slowly to sit up with her back against the headboard, her head lolling onto her shoulder to look at him. It’s such a far cry from the woman he’s gotten used to, all slow movements and barely-there words as he offers her the glass of water he brought up for her. She takes two little sips then slumps down, handing him back the glass and scrunching her eyes shut.

“Baby, I-I’m really tired– I just need to lay down for a while.” He can feel his frustration rising, but he swallows it down, taking her hand in his and squeezing lightly. She doesn’t squeeze back.

“Ok, darlin, I know you are. Gotta get to work, but you know where I’ll be, right?” All he gets from her is a nod as she lays back down, curling in on her side.

“Think you might get cleaned up today? Bet a shower would feel good.” Another long sigh.

“I just got a shower yesterday.”

“That– that was Monday, darlin, remember? It’s Friday now.” That’s new, and it makes fear kick up in his chest, cold and frantic. She, however, isn’t phased by it, simply shrugging her shoulders beneath the blankets. Stevie stumbles over the blankets up towards her head, nuzzling up against the back of her neck. It’s a small comfort to him, knowing that she isn’t completely alone during the day, just enough reassurance for him to murmur a soft “I’ll be back soon, honey” and get up with a sigh. He takes one more look at her before closing the door behind him, no acknowledgement from her save for another deep sigh.

Things around town have gotten tense, to say the least. Word spread fast about what happened to Maura’s baby, and while it was clear that no one was to blame, just a horrible stroke of luck, it was a whole lot easier to blame the witch for what happened. Now, as Joel walks to the stables everyday, people openly stare at him, murmuring just loud enough for him to hear about how he’s “harboring the murderer.” The only thing that keeps him from knocking their lights out is knowing that it’d only make things worse for her.

People are being particularly vocal this morning, but he gets no relief when he gets to the stables either, seeing Mason and Matthew, Maura’s husband, are getting ready to saddle up for patrol.

“Don’t know why Maria’s letting her walk around free. Oughta be a trial for what she did.” Mason scoffs at Matthew’s words.

“You know why, that’s practically her sister-in-law, that’s why.” Mason’s eyes narrow into slits as Joel approaches them, Matthew’s face reflecting a similar sneer.

“You boys better watch what you say. Especially when it ain’t based in any reality.”

“What do you know about reality, Miller? She’s got you so turned around I bet you believe just about anything she tells you.” Joel can feel anger rising like bile in his throat as he looks at the men, and he keeps his hands on his hips to stop himself from doing something he’ll regret.

“You saying you two are talking about reality? Some fucking story about her, what? Hexing a baby?” He focuses his attention on Matthew before continuing.

“Son, I’m sorry for your loss. I really am. But trying to blame someone for this– this horrible misfortune– it ain’t gonna make that pain go away.” Matthew lets out a bitter laugh at Joel’s words, his eyes flashing wild as he takes a few halting steps toward him.

“I’m not trying to do anything, Miller. I know she did it.” Joel would like to punch him in the teeth, but instead he scoffs at the man, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Let’s just say for a minute that I’m living in the same delusional world that you are. How are you so sure that she did it, huh?” Matthew’s face stretches into a grin that doesn’t meet his bloodshot eyes at that.

“I know she did it– she did it to get back at me.” That makes Joel pause, and Matthew catches it, his grin splitting wider.

“She was jealous, you see. When I wouldn’t leave Maura for her, she got real upset. I guess she’s used to getting what she wants, but I’m a faithful man, and I wouldn’t look twice at that slu–” Joel doesn’t let him finish that sentence, grabbing him by his shoulders and driving him backward until his back slams against the wall of the stables.

“See, now I know you’re full of shit because she’s with me. She’s been with me all fucking summer, so I find your little story pretty hard to believe.”

“Not all the time.” Joel squints at him, keeping him pinned against the wall.

“Come again?”

“She wasn’t with you all the time, not during all her little house visits. Lemme tell you, Maura wasn’t the only one she was checking on.” He does it before he can think, his fist making contact squarely with Matthew’s jaw, the man groaning and doubling over, though Joel is quick to haul him up by his shirt collar.

“Listen to me, you keep my woman’s name out of your mouth. Do you understand me?” Matthew gives him no answer, his eyes squinting slits as Joel shoves him back against the wall. As he turns to leave, his eyes catch Mason’s, the man grinning as he watches the whole thing. The look makes Joel’s stomach twist, and it’s all he can do to walk away from the pair.

He doesn’t care that he’ll miss his shift. He needs to talk to her. Now.

Any patience, any gentleness, any carefulness has dissolved in his need to speak to her, and it clearly catches her by surprise when he comes barreling into her room, giving her shoulder a brusque squeeze that has her wide eyes looking up at him.

“Wha– I thought you were going to work.”

“We need to talk.”

“Joel, I’m really–”

“Tired. I know, but you can’t– I can’t– I need you to talk to me. I know that you’re hurting, but I need you here with me, or else I can’t, I can’t do anything to help.” She sits up at that, brow furrowed.

“What’re you talking about?” He sighs, sitting down on the edge of the bed, glancing at Stevie who has curled up on the pillow next to her.

“There’s– talk, around town.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m aware.”

“That isn’t what I meant– I mean– Matthew, Maura’s husband– he’s saying that you–” She cuts him off with a bitter laugh. “No.”

“You don’t know what I was going to say.”

“It’s always the same– they’re always the same– he’s telling people I tried to fuck him, isn’t he?” The blunt crassness of her words coupled with her still blank eyes is unnerving to him. Even now, her voice is flat, no emotion to be found in her cool assessment of him.

“Not in so many words. He said that you had reason to want to– get back at him.”

“And you believe him? You believe that I’d be capable of something like that?”

“I don’t, and I’ll fight this, whatever this is. But I need you here fighting with me. I can’t do this without you– and I can’t keep watching you– disappear right in front of me.” Silence, a heavy pall of it falls between them as she continues to stare at him, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

“Maybe they’re right.” It comes out so hoarse, he almost thinks he didn’t hear her right.

“What?”

“Maybe it is my fault, somehow. Maybe I-I– somehow– I– it’s my fault, my fault, all my fault–” Before she can dissolve any further, he takes her face in his hands, holding her steady.

“Don’t go there, darlin. I know you don’t really believe that. Remember what you told me? About when you held her?” Her eyes widen at that, and he feels something like hope lift off in his chest when she nods.

“She was– she was so small, Joel. And it wasn’t right, it was too early– and I knew it.” “And you did everything you could, right?” Another nod, her eyes narrowing into something like focus.

“I-I did. I did. But, it just happened. It was too early, and– and I don’t think anyone could’ve done anything to change it.”

“That’s right. It just happened. Ain’t anyone’s fault. Don’t let them get into your head, darlin. You and I know the truth, and Ellie, and Tommy, and Maria, and– Stevie.” The cat, who had been dozing on her pillow, lifts her head at that, letting out a questioning mrrp. It isn’t much, but her lips twitch into what could become a smile, eventually. He’ll take it.

“I think I’d like to get a shower now.”

…

He could shout from the palpable relief he feels seeing her at the kitchen table, hair still damp from her shower, eating a plate of leftovers. It’s clear to him that she’s still not all there, still quiet, eyes endlessly downturned, movements slow and small. But she’s clean, she’s eating, and she’s even talking a little, and whatever has changed, Joel’s just glad that it did. He sits in the chair next to her, resisting the urge to stay as close to her as he can, afraid that she might float away if he doesn’t, but worried she’ll shut back down if he does. She sets her fork down and sits back in her chair, tilting her head to look at him, worry a perpetual crease between her brows.

“Could you come with me to the shop? I’d like to get a few of my things.” He nods, trying to keep his voice even when he responds, though inside he feels nothing but elation at her question.

“Of course, darlin. You just tell me when, and we’ll go.”

“Could we– could we go now?”

Though it caught him off guard, he scrambled to get them out the door before she changed her mind. He reckons it’s more for him than it is for her, the tight hold he keeps on her hand as they walk through town. For her part, she keeps her chin tilted down, eyes on each of her steps as they pass through the stream of stares and whispers. But she comes to a stuttering stop in front of the apothecary door, and Joel can’t help but smile.

“Dina and Ellie– they cleaned up the– mess. But it wouldn’t come all the way off, so they gave it a new coat of paint.” What once had been a plain white door is now painted a deep green, though it’s beyond Joel how Ellie managed to find that color. For a moment, she’s completely still, considering the door before her. And then, she squeezes his hand, and he knows that these tears of hers are different, no despair to be found.

“I’ll have to thank them for this.”

Ellie has also been going to the shop in the afternoons everyday, taking care of the plants in her absence, another thing that seems to surprise her when she enters the shop, what could be a smile threatening a quiver in her lips. But he swears that the green goes a bit greener, leaves stretching out and lifting as she walks amongst them, reverential fingers checking here and there. She collects a few bottles and tins, a few books, tucking them into her bag, before checking what she explains with a quiet murmur is soap, curing on the counter of the back room. There’s no ease about this for her, he can tell in her skittish movements, her eyes glancing around like she’s waiting for something to happen, and she’s ready to leave in a flash. He hates it, that the space in which he had first met her, the space in which she had always been so at peace, now conjures this kind of fear in her.

They return home as quick as they left, and he can see just how much it took out of her, the heavy slump to her shoulders, the unfocused haze falling back over her eyes as she sits down on the couch in the living room, her bag still slung over one shoulder. She lets him take the bag from her, setting it down on the floor. He moves tentatively, letting out a quiet sigh when she lets him pull her into his side on the couch, his arm wrapping around her tight.

Wordlessly, she leans back in his hold, and he’s stunned into stillness when she tilts her chin up and brushes her lips against his.

“Thank you, Joel. For everything, for dealing with me through all this.”

“I’m not dealing with you. I’m taking care of you, you don’t have to thank me for that.” She presses another kiss to his lips, though he stops her when she tries to deepen it, holding her by her shoulders.

“I don’t– don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”

“Please, Joel– I just wanna feel something else for a little while. Just wanna feel you.” She presses a smattering of kisses to what skin she can get to beneath the collar of his shirt, and he sighs, already feeling himself dissolving under her touch. He knows this is probably a terrible idea, that whatever is going on in her head can’t possibly be good, but he also knows that whatever peace he can give her, he will in a heartbeat.

“Hey, hey, easy, darlin. Let’s go upstairs, alright? Lemme take care of you properly.” She lets him lead her upstairs, into his bedroom. She lets him lay her back on his bed, gentle and sweet as he undresses her. And she lets him take over when her trembling fingers fumble at the buttons of his shirt, shucking off his clothes as quickly as he can to keep contact with her.

There are no words for this, the way their hands move over each other’s bodies, getting reacquainted with bare skin they had each mapped so well. He settles between the plush of her thighs, pressing a kiss into the soft skin before finally tasting her. She’s an endless tide of sighs, writhing above him as he works her over with his tongue. Her pleasure is his privilege, and he collects every whimper, every scrunch of her brow, every tensed muscle, tokens of what he can do for his woman. He can’t help the way his hips rut into the mattress beneath him, chasing whatever sensation he can find as he takes in the sight of her, the feel of her beneath his mouth. When she comes, it’s an unraveling, a slow tumble that he holds her steady through, his arms wrapped around her hips to hold her up to his mouth as he coaxes her through her pleasure. The first word to leave her lips as she comes down is his name, a breathless plea to come closer that he answers in kind, crawling up the bed to hover over her, their lips catching in a desperate tangle.

Broken groans resound from both of them when he presses his hips forward, a dizzy prickle skittering up his spine as he settles into the heat of her. He lets his lips drag wherever he can, over her collarbone, the arc of her neck, her jaw, giving her a moment, waiting for her word.

“I’m not going to break, Joel.” The tone of her voice, certain and steeled, makes him lean back to catch her gaze.

“I know that, darlin. I know you aren’t.”

“Then don’t treat me like I’m fragile. I want you to fuck me.” Truthfully, he has been treating her as if at any moment she could shatter. But the way that she’s looking at him, the steady heat of her gaze, the tick of her jaw, the way her nails are grazing up and down his back makes him feel like she’s coming back to him, and something inside him snaps at the thought.

He gives her what she wants, a push and pull that has them both sighing with each press of his hips into hers. He wants to leave marks, to stamp something permanent of him into her, and with the harsh grind of his hips, the desperate graze of his teeth along her chest, he thinks he’ll be successful in his desires, drawing whimpers out of her with the force he fucks her with.

Neither of them are making much sense, words slurred into skin, frantic coaxing to see each over the edge.

That’s it, darlin.

S’good, huh?

It’s all yours, honey. Go on, take it.

When she comes again, it’s with a shattered yelp of his name, her fingers pressing little moons into his shoulder blades as she crashes around him. She’s a fucking vision beneath him, tears streaking silver down her cheeks, her face a twist of pleasure, sobs that sing sweet for a change, and it’s enough to send him spiraling after her. He only realizes he’s crying when he sees his own tears smudged against her sternum, his forehead pressed against her collarbone as he catches his breath.

He goes to get up and grab something to clean her up with, but she doesn’t let him get far, pulling him back down by his shoulders and holding him against her.

“Can we just stay like this for a little while, please?” The sigh he lets out at her question melts him even further into her, his arms wrapping her up and pulling her into a closer tangle. They’re a mess, sweat-damp skin sticking slick and his spend dripping onto the sheets beneath them, but he reckons he needs this as much as she does, burying his face in the junction of her neck and inhaling her deeply.

She relaxes in his arms, muscles going slack against his, her fingers trailing shapes across his shoulder blades. He feels like for the first time in ages, he’s got her, he’s really got her.

…

Ellie won’t stop staring at her. The kid had stopped dead in her tracks when she got home and saw her and Joel in the kitchen, quietly fixing dinner. Joel had quickly shook his head at her, a silent plea to not make a big deal out of it. But if there’s one thing Ellie is not, it’s subtle, and she’s been staring at her for most of the meal like she might disappear if she takes her eyes away from her. If it’s bothering her, however, she doesn’t show it, still a bit hazy around the edges as they eat, leaving Joel to muster up whatever conversation he can, which is to say that most of the meal is spent in slightly tense silence while Ellie continues to stare at her, much to his chagrin.

“I want to thank you, Ellie. I got to see today how you’ve been taking care of the shop. I really appreciate it and– just, thank you, kid.” Ellie’s eyes widen at her words, before softening with an emphatic nod.

“Yeah– I mean, of course. You, like, taught me well, and stuff. And I want you to know, if anyone else tries to mess with you, I will personally fuck them up–”

“Ellie.”

“What? I’m just saying, geez.” Ellie lets out a huff at Joel, while he’s about ready to give her another lecture about her language, though his annoyance dissolves when his woman lets out a light laugh at the girl’s exclamation.

“Thanks, kid, but I don’t want you fucking anyone up for me. That’s not gonna be necessary, alright?” Ellie gives her a sheepish smile at that, a light moment that relieves whatever tightness had been in the air. But just as soon as they all seem to slump back into ease, the sound of someone knocking on the front door echoes through the house.

Joel excuses himself, a wordless plea for her and Ellie to stay put. He’s admittedly surprised to see that it’s Maria standing on his porch, a steely look on her face and her hands on her hips.

“We have a problem.”

“That son of a bitch started it.”

“I don’t care who started it, Joel. I’m gonna finish it, all of it. I’ve called a town meeting for tomorrow night. This can’t keep going on. It’s— people are asking me questions that I can’t answer. And I know Mason is getting people more worked up the longer this goes on.”

“Maria, she’s— she’s not ready for this.”

“She’s gonna have to be. I’m worried, Joel. The longer we let people talk, the more out of hand this’ll get and— I wouldn’t put it past some of those men to—try something.” He feels a cool prickle shoot up the back of his neck at Maria’s words, his mind going back to the night of the dance, the way Mason had grabbed her, and he knows that Maria is right, that something needs to be done now before it escalates.

“There are people on her side too, Joel. It’s just– there’s so much talk going around that everyone’s too afraid to say anything otherwise. If we can hear her side, I know people will come forward. But if she stays holed up like this, people are just gonna keep talking.”

“You’re right, Maria.” He hadn’t been expecting it, the sound of her voice startling him as he turns to look at her padding up behind him. She places a firm palm between his shoulder blades, a presence, a confirmation.

“Just tell me what time tomorrow, and I’ll be there.”

...........................

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller au #apothecary

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mixsethaddams · 1 year

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Steve doesn’t hate DnD, he just doesn’t get it.

His brain doesn’t work the way it needs to in order for him to get all the numbers, and classes, and magic, and statistics, and oh god it makes his eyes hurt just thinking about it sometimes. Steve thinks he’d like to just sit and watch, it’s a fun atmosphere, but there’s a strict No Spectators rule for all the Party’s campaigns.

He tries, really he does. Steve knows how much it means to Eddie, and they’re still in the early relationship phase of trying to impress each other. He just wants Eddie to feel like they have something in common other than being mauled by monsters. He wants Eddie to want him around. Whenever it comes to Steve’s turn though, he feels like he’s still two steps behind everyone else.

Of course Eddie noticed. He watches Steve far too closely not to catch the little twitch in his eyebrows every time he doesn’t understand something, and tries to buy time by asking Dustin or Erica’s advice.

“I was thinking,” said Eddie one night as they cleaned up after everyone else had left their latest session. “About your character,”

“What about her?” asked Steve.

“I think you should let me kill her,” said Eddie simply, trying to sound casual.

Steve was stunned. He froze, halfway through folding a map. His stomach dropped.

“You don’t want me to play anymore?” He was crushed and it was apparent in his voice.

Eddie continued to tidy, pretending his heart hadn’t cracked in half at the sound of Steve’s voice.

“Not by yourself anyway,” said Eddie, leaning down on the table and side eyeing Steve to see if his plan was working. “I have too many notes for this campaign, I can’t keep up anymore-”

He could.

“-and it’s started to get me confused during some of the battles-“

It wasn’t.

“-so I was thinking maybe I need a little extra help,”

He didn’t.

But Steve didn’t know that.

“And killing me off helps that?” asked Steve. He had started to subconsciously wring his hands so Eddie held his arm up to gesture Steve into a sideways half-hug.

“Well, yeah,” said Eddie. Steve was under his arm now and his sad little face was killing him but he nearly had his point made. “Because you can’t help me with campaign notes or keep me on the right page during a game if you’re playing,”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed wile he figured out what Eddie was saying.

“You don’t need someone for that,” said Steve, still confused. “You tell people all the time I’m The Best DM Ever I Could Run Six Campaigns At Once All Alone I Don’t-“

“Steve.” said Eddie flatly, putting his hand over Steve’s mouth. “I’m asking for help, and I’m asking you because I know you won’t make fun of me for it,”

He took his hand away and raised his eyebrows. Steve nodded.

“So, like, I’d, what? Help you write things in your notebook?” he asked. “Plans and stuff?”

“Yep!” said Eddie, squeezing Steve’s shoulders. “And sit with me during games to make sure I’m not missing anything. You’re better at the details than I am, Stevie, I get all caught up in the dramatics,”

Eddie waved his free arm in a wide flourish to illustrate his point.

“We’ll be the perfect team,” he finished.

Steve’s stomach lifted into something far lighter. He liked the sound of being teamed up with Eddie for games. Getting to watch, be a part of it all, without having to actually play? This sounded like way more fun.

“I… Yeah, that sounds like a plan, I can do that,” said Steve with a smile.

“Gotta warn you though!” said Eddie, waving a finger in his face. “It’s intense, you’re gonna be spending a lot more time with me, I write a lot of notes,”

Steve laughed and rolled his eyes.

“Oh how ever will I ever cope?”

It was years later that Steve connected the dots on what Eddie had done for him. They were at a wedding reception and Eddie was talking with Dustin, recalling details of that first campaign with crystal clear accuracy. For the briefest moment he felt silly, slightly ashamed that he’d been so obviously terrible and uncomfortable that Eddie needed to step in. But then he remembered all the late nights they’d spent huddled up close to plan a session, or the phonecalls laughing about how to trick the Party into a trap, or the times they hide behind a book during a game to stage-whisper about a player’s choices, and it all melted away. That time spent together just having fun was what gave their relationship such a rock solid foundation.

He only ever managed to grasp the barest bones of the game even with Eddie’s help, but he wouldn’t have changed any of it for the world. Not when they made such a perfect team, anyway.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #st fanfic #steve x eddie #steve stranger things #headcanon #steve and eddie #fic rec #steddie fic #seth writes

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theemporium · 1 year

Note

hey if ur still doing requests-19. “I think about you all the time.” with stevie boy ??

19. “I think about you all the time.”

You had known Steve Harrington for the better part of thirteen years but it never really hit you how little you actually knew about him.

From sitting together in Miss Jenson’s first grade class to seeing each other in the halls all the way through to high school, Steve was a familiar face but not somebody you would have ever willingly mixed with.

You thought you knew him well enough: King Steve who is adored by everyone, who wants people to kneel for him and kiss the ground he walked on, to see girls and guys alike throwing themselves at him as he basked in the attention.

You thought that Steve Harrington was nothing more than every other arrogant, self-centred playboy teenage boy who only cared about himself and getting laid.

You realised just how wrong you were when you found yourself in Scoops Ahoy one day the summer after your senior year and found King Steve standing behind the counter instead of the girl you had seen the few times you walked past.

You hadn’t expected the boy to be there, let alone be as friendly as he was when he greeted you like an old friend rather than a classmate he hadn’t really spoken to since the eighth grade. But the boy didn’t bat an eye at your slightly standoff behaviour as he happily chatted away as he made your order.

You decided it was a one off incident.

Until you found yourself in the ice cream parlour again a week or so later, and the boy greeted you with a wide smile and a joking remark like it was some inside gag between you.

Little did you realise just how quickly you would find yourself seeking comfort in those jesting remarks.

And little did you realise just how wrong you were about Steve Harrington until you found yourself sitting on the counter weeks later, a happy routine set between you both as midday passed and the customers started to lessen.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Steve said as you walked in.

You frowned. “What?”

“You looked sad that we ran out of mint choc chip last time,” Steve said, looking far too giddy for someone in a sailor costume. “So I didn’t put it out until an hour ago so there would be some for you.”

You blinked, caught by surprise. “You did that for me?”

“Yeah,” Steve said with a casual shrug as he grabbed a tub for you and one for himself before he started to load them up. “I know it’s your favourite.”

The guilt settled deep in your gut, eating away at you slowly as he handed you the tub of mint choc chip ice cream with sprinkles on top, looking far too pleased with himself on the presentation before he took the spot next to you on the counter.

“You know,” you told him, your shoulders and thighs pressed against each other. “I used to think you were a prick.”

Steve snorted. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

Your brows furrowed together as you turned your head towards him but Steve’s attention was on his ice cream.

“No, I mean like–” you paused for a moment, shifting your body to face him. “I’m sorry, Steve. I shouldn’t have just assumed all that shit about you—”

“It’s fine,” he said to you, giving you a smile like he truly wasn’t bothered by your words. “You aren’t the first person to think that.”

Your face softened. “Steve.”

“I was a dick though,” he said, laughing it off as he scooped a large spoonful of ice cream. “So you weren’t wrong.”

“But you aren’t a dick,” you said to him with a shake of your head. “And it’s fucked up that people think that about you, that you are happy to just let them.”

Steve just looked sheepish in response.

“I mean, look!” you said helplessly as you held up your tub. “I thought you were a dick for, like, ten years and here you are saving ice cream flavours for me because it makes me happy! I shouldn’t even be a passing thought in your head, Steve.”

“Well, you aren’t,” he supplied. “I think about you all the time. So…you’re not a passing thought, if that helps.”

Your lips parted a little at his confession. “Steve—”

His cheeks flushed but he kept talking. “But it’s fine, really. I know I wasn’t exactly the best guy all the time and—”

Steve quickly fell quiet when you grabbed his face, placing your lips on his and catching him by surprise. It took less than a second before he realised what was happening and his tub fell to the floor with a splat, his hands on the back of your neck to keep you close.

“You’re a good person, Steve,” you whispered to him, nose nudging against his.

He grinned. “Good enough to kiss again?”

You snorted. “Good enough to kiss again.”

So, you kissed him again.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrigton x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things one shot

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befriending · 23 days

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╰ ☆ ◞ gracie abrams / ciswoman / she/her ——— no way is that DYLAN WEBB? you know they’re TWENTY FIVE years old and they’ve been in los angeles for ALL HER LIFE. they’re chillin’ as a SINGER / MUSICIAN. oh and they’re notoriously known for being ALOOF but there are some people who have seen them be QUIRKY. i heard they’re a part of a SOLO ACT called DYLAN WEBB, yeah they’re a VOCALIST / GUITARIST. to be honest they sound a lot like GRACIE ABRAMS / OLIVIA RODRIGO / MAISIE PETERS. they’re actually FAMOUS.

BASIC INFORMATION:

full name: dylan elizabeth webb

nickname(s): dyl / d

age: twenty-five

date of birth: 7th september 1999

place of birth: los angeles, california

gender: ciswoman

pronouns: she / her

orientation: pansexual

language(s) spoken: american english

neighbourhood: downtown la (previously eastdale)

living arrangements: living in a downtown la loft, with a roommate.

FAMILY TIES:

mother: elizabeth webb (retired musician)

father: adam webb (movie director)

siblings: stella webb (younger sister) & alex webb (younger brother)

spouse / partner: n/a (very single!)

children: n/a

pets: french bulldog called, milo

OCCUPATIONAL INFORMATION:

occupation: solo artist / pop star

skillset or specialisation (if applicable): singer/guitarist

name of their act: dylan webb

so they play instruments? if so what?: guitar / piano / little bit of drums

how long have they been a part of the act?: all her life!

artist influences: taylor swift, olivia rodrigo, maisie peters, chappell roan, beabadoobee, nell mescal, dodie, laufey

current monthly spotify/apple music listens on average: 2,538,556 listeners

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE:

face claim: gracie abrams

hair color: dark brown

eye color: brown

height: 5"7

tattoos: small lightning bolt on her left wrist

piercings: both ears pierced, used to have a nose piercing at one point but took it out.

clothing style: mum jeans, cosy jumpers, white / band tees, red lipstick, flannel shirts, converse, big hoodies, hair bows, wearing running shorts casually, dad caps.

distinguishing characteristics: she's got a scar on her knee, from where she fell off her bike as kid! also, she's almost always wearing a bow in her hair!

PERSONALITY:

positive traits: caring, hardworking, intelligent, observant, quirky.

negative traits: disorganized, critical, impatient, forgetful, stubborn

hobbies: learning how to play musical instruments, writing songs / music, going out dancing, drinking iced coffee, hanging out with her dog milo.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

best-friends: dylan has lived in la her whole life, i'd love to see her have a group of close-knit friends, that do EVERYTHING together!

roommate: she's recently moved out of her parent's home, got her own place in downtown la with a roommate, do they get on? do they hate each other? we can talk about that!

current hook-ups / fwbs etc: u know the vibe, dylan is dating very very very causally at the moment, for fun more than anything!!

exes: she needs some people that she can write songs about, PLEASE!! we can discuss if they ended badly or not!! thank u!!

QUESTIONNAIRE:

"start at the beginning, who are you and why are you important?" "oh yikes! you're not holding back are you?" dylan laughs awkwardly, "i'm dylan, i'm twenty five and uh --- well i like to sing".

"how long have you been making music?" "god, this is very cheesy, but i've been making music since i was a teenager, if you look hard enough on youtube, you'll find a channel i posted my awful covers on".

"how would you describe the kind of music you make?" "again with the tough questions! i'd say, it's kinda poppy, fun, and vibey but also, sometimes, it can be super dramatic, sad, mope around your bedroom music just depends on what kinda mood i'm in". "who are some of your biggest musical influences?" "my mum, obviously, stevie nicks, dolly parton, taylor swift". "what is the first record you ever bought?" "ohmygod! i think it was a one direction vinyl, don't judge me". "what has working in the music industry meant to you thus far in your career?"

"everything! music is the only thing i've EVER wanted to do, so i'm very thankful that i can do that".

"what are some stand out moments from your career so far?" "ooh, i've done so many brilliant things, but i'd have to say recording some of my mum's older songs with her, was a dream". "how would you describe your style of performance? what makes your shows worth seeing?" "it's a big experience, some songs are just me and my guitar, other times, it's me and my band. i like to put on a show for people, i make things as fun as i can by interacting with the crowd a lot, my fans make the show! recently they've started handing out friendship bracelets at my shows, i LOVE THAT" "what are you still hoping to achieve in your career?" "i've already done so much, i'd really like to record something for a film soundtrack, that'd be great" "what’s next for you?" "dude, i've got no idea, but i can't wait for it"

if you’d like to plot with dylan, then please feel free to like this post and i’ll message you or feel free to message me on discord @ radcorrie!! thank you!!

#sonicfm:intro #yes! she's a nepo baby

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miyuhpapayuh · 11 months

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18. Doghouse

Harshly gasping, Stevie sits up in her bed and blinks rapidly, trying to get her vision to steady on the darkness that five in the morning provides her bedroom.

Her peaceful sleep had been interrupted with yet another nightmare, starring her and the scary, dread-head that keeps following her around.

"Vie, what's wrong?" Rod comes back into the room and sits on the end of the bed, reaching out to caress her leg through the covers.

"I had a bad dream, again." She sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. Her wavering voice makes his jaw clench.

"Here's what ima do, okay?” he crawls back into the bed and pulls her against his chest, "when I drop you off, today, I'm gonna wait around for him. You let me know when he comes in and I'll go from there."

"Okay." She sighs, feeling herself relax to the sound of his heartbeat. She wraps her arm tighter around him, causing him to do the same.

"Go back to sleep, baby. I'm right here."

Last week was the beginning of Stevie's nightmares. The scariest part about them is the fact that they never give much detail to his face, but the tattoos that litter his knuckles and that skin-crawling smirk to make her wanna peel his skin back, if she had enough nerve to do so.

She mentioned him to Rod and of course, he offered to be there for her in the nighttime, so that she could be well rested and comfortable, since sleeping alone had become almost nonexistent for them, anyway.

"You alright? Tell the truth." He asks, resting his arm on the back of the passenger seat.

"No." Her salty tears make their presence known as they cascade down her flushed face. "I'm scared."

He wipes away each tear that falls, cupping her face in the process. "Hey, look at me..." her sad eyes flicker up to his, making his heart crack even further.

"I'm gonna take care of it, alright? I got you." He kisses her lips, repeatedly.

"Can I tell you something?" He asks, pulling away.

"Yeah."

"I'm kinda relieved that you're not pregnant. Right now doesn't seem like the best time to bring a kid into the world." This makes her chuckle.

"You're telling me," she grabs her bag off the floor and opens the door, stepping out and onto the pavement, casually strolling towards the door.

She glances over her shoulder to see Rod walking behind her. She heads inside and heads straight to the back where she runs into Claire.

"Can we talk?"

"Of course.," Claire leads her into the spacious office and closes the door behind herself. "What's up?"

"I think I'm being followed. There's this guy that frequently comes in just to mess with me— I even ran into him at the mall— and I've been having these nightmares that he's coming for me." Claire frowns as she stares at Stevie's shaky frame.

"This isn't something that we take lightly, so I've got your back. I'll handle it, okay?"

"Thanks, Claire." Stevie stands up and gives her a hug, sighing into her shoulder.

"You're a good friend." Claire perks up at the word, softly rubbing Stevie's back.

"We're friends?" Stevie pulls away and smiles.

"Of course! I thought you knew that."

"I mean, I kinda figured but we've never hung out or anything, so I didn't think you thought of me as anything more than just a cool boss."

"You are a cool boss.... who's also my really cool friend." She pokes her arm.

"Well, you learn something new, every day. Now, come on, friend."

They head out to the front, where Stevie grabs her apron and puts it on, scanning the place as her eyes land on Rod sitting at the table by the window.

He keeps his eyes on her, giving her a sweet smile. She returns it and starts helping the small cluster of customers, with the help of Claire.

Soon enough, the man of the hour comes waltzing in, causing Stevie to shoot a glance at Rod, who nods his head.

"What's up, Stevie," he leans on the counter, flashing his grill-covered teeth at her. She sighs.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to stop being so mean to me, when I see you. Every time I see you, it's an issue."

"I don't know you, so I don't have to be nice to you."

"You could get to know me, sweetheart." He leans in closer, before a throat clears itself behind him, making him turn around.

"Is there a problem?" Rod asks, sizing the man up. He's a foot taller than him, but still no match.

"You must be boyfriend." He chuckles, quickly pissing Rod off.

"Sure am. Do we have a problem?" He asks, again.

"Man, ain't nobody worried about your ass. Tell your girl it ain't nice to be rude and then we wouldn't be havin' this conversation."

"You tell 'em you ain't interested?" He looks at Stevie.

"A thousand times."

"You like harassing girls that ain't interested, huh? I can totally see how it must be hard for you to accept that, but shorty said no, so step off."

"Or what?" He steps closer to his face. Rod doesn't flinch.

"I'll make you."

Stevie watches the smirk glide across his face as he cocks his fist back, not even getting to land it, before Rod clocks him in the jaw, sending him to the floor.

"Oh God," an elderly woman gets up from her table and walks out, while others stand around and watch as Rod hovers over the man.

"I suggest you leave." Gripping him up by his collar, he flings him out of the door. Stevie watches as he walks to his car and hops in, driving off.

Rod comes back in and Stevie walks from behind the counter, quickly wrapping her arms around him.

"Thank you."

"Always, babygirl." They look over at Claire who's scribbling something down on a piece of paper.

"I got his description and his license plate number. He definitely won't be back in here, I'll be right back." She pats Stevie's shoulder.

"Thanks, Claire."

She smiles, before walking into her office.

"How you gettin' to class?" He asks, smoothing his hands down her back.

"Tyler's gonna come by at the end of my shift, so I can drive her to work."

"Okay, good. She been doin' okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. She's just going through some stuff, but I got her."

He nods, pecking her lips. "I'll see you later."

"Yes you will."

"I love you."

"I love you, more."

Rod walks into his one and only class of the day, immediately sighing to himself. The only seat that's left is beside Tara. He grumbles, before sitting down, scooting his desk away from her.

"Damn, that's how we do each other?" She scoffs. He looks in her direction and back in front of him.

"Don't do me with that bullshit, man. You ain't been nothin' but trouble since you got here."

"Okay, first of all, I didn't know that you had a girlfriend, so your brand new attitude threw me all the way off."

"Even after I told you about her, you still tried it. I see them lil dumb ass looks you be givin' her when we walk past you, I know about you threatening her or in your case warning her— you wasn't thrown off by a damn thing, you're jealous."

"Man—"

"I don't wanna hear it." He shifts again, staring ahead as the most boring lecture begins.

About an hour later, the class is finally over and Rod slightly bolts for the door, of course with Tara right on his tail.

"Can I just say something?"

"Nah," he continues walking, ignoring her little huffs.

"Rod, come on." She steps in front of him, blocking his path.

"What man?!" His face scrunches up.

"Look, I know I haven't been the most reasonable person. Maybe, shouldn't have talked to shorty like that," he starts to move around her, but she pushes him back, "okay! Okay! I shouldn't have said anything to her, damn!"

"You talking a lot, but still ain't sayin' shit." He blinks, growing impatient.

"I don't normally apologize for the shit that I do, man. I just do it."

"Come.” she motions for him to come closer and he stays put.

"You must think I'm stupid."

"I'm not trying to do anything stupid. I promise." She waits til he leans down, still keeping his eye on her.

"I'm sorry." She whispers in his ear, making him suck his teeth and lean back up.

"Why you on some top secret shit, man? I'm thinking you ‘bout to tell me something important. This ain't fifth grade, Tara. Say that shit out loud."

She sucks her teeth and punches him in the shoulder. "I'm sorry, aight?! Damn."

"That must've killed you." He sarcastically responds.

"It really did, now bring it in." She holds her arms out.

"Bring what in?"

"Gimme a hug, fool."

"Nahh, I'm good."

She frowns. "Why? She won't approve?"

"Don't play the victim—"

"I'm not playing the— just give me a hug, man."

"Girl, I said no."

"Whatever. Do you at least accept my apology?" She steps closer to him.

"Sure. I think I know you well enough to know that you really don't own up to the stupid shit that you do, so yeah. We're good."

"Great." A smile works its way onto her lips as she turns around, finding Stevie a few feet away with an incredulous look on her face.

As Tara passes her, she throws her a wink. Stevie watches her until she disappears down the hall and her eyes carry her to Rod.

She slowly approaches him and folds her arms over her chest. "What was that?"

"What was what? Tara?"

"No, Tommy. Yes, Tara. What was she doing over here, so close to your face?"

"She was apologizing."

"Hm." She jerks her head back. "Apologizing, huh? Where's mine?"

"She told me that she was sorry for everything, including what she said to you."

"Why didn't she say that to me, just now? Cause you wanna know what she did do— she winked at me," Stevie fakes a smile before her lips drop into a line, "what the fuck is she winking at me for, Roderick?"

"She's crazy. We both know that."

"Exactly," she points her finger at him, "we both know that. So, since we both know that, please enlighten me on why you even let her be in your face, in the first place." He sighs.

"Baby, I know what it looked like, but I shut down the funny shit."

"Do you believe her apology was genuine?" She asks, tilting her head.

"She's never one to own up to anything, so maybe." He shrugs.

She scoffs, beginning to turn around when he catches her by the wrist.

"Let me go."

"For what? Why are you mad at me?"

"Because, you told me that I needed to keep my eye on her just in case she tried some funny shit. Here we are with the funny shit and you're acting as if it's not a problem. That shit wasn't genuine," she yanks her hand out of his grip. "I don't understand why you would even still think that after I just told you that she walked past me, like she just won the fucking lotto."

"I'm not trying to argue with you,"

"Who said this was an argument? I'm just letting you know what's up, cause you act like you were born this morning."

Rod jerks his head back. "Alright. Can we not do this?"

"It's already done, Rod."

"I don't want you to be mad at me, though."

"Well, you should've thought about that," she pulls her bag up on her shoulder, and heads in the opposite direction, almost completely walking away until he calls out for her, again.

"You don't like being alone, Vie."

"I'll be fine."

Tyler tightens the strings on her oxford blue apron as she comes back from her lunch break.

Quickly wiping down her space, she greets her first customer of the second half of her shift.

"Dining in?"

"Takeout."

"What can I get you, ma'am?"

"One french toast special with scrambled eggs and bacon and a black coffee."

"Alright, that'll be $12.32." A twenty is placed on the counter, causing Tyler to sigh and snatch it up, placing the change back on the counter along with the receipt.

"It'll be out in ten minutes," she gives the lady a quaint smile, internally choking her as she catches the slight eye roll.

"Thanks." She moves away from the counter and sits on the bench by the door.

"Rude ass," she mumbles, narrowing her eyes at the tall, dreaded man that she'd seen, pushing up on Stevie a few days earlier.

"Ew, it's you."

He chuckles at her killer expression. “Don't do me like that, shorty."

"That ain't my name, and..." she points to his jaw, "what the hell happened to your face?"

"Ol girl sicked her boyfriend on me. Shit ain't even hurt." She rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, okay. What you orderin'?"

"Whatchu recommend?"

"Food. There's an entire menu of good food. Choose something."

"Aight, hol' up." He grabs the menu and she sighs, glancing at the deep red ink on the side of his neck.

"What's your tattoo say?"

"Blood ninety-two."

"Hm." She stares at the tattoos littering his knuckles and thinks back to the same ones that John had on his arm.

"Shit," she mumbles as she makes the connection in her head. The man stares at her for a brief second, before smirking to himself.

She needed to warn Stevie and fast.

@blackerthings @sheabuttahwrites @twistedcharismaaa @thegifstories @blowmymbackout @chaneajoyyy @ghostfacekill-monger @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaxwrites @cecereads209 @abeautifulmindexposed @harmshake

#soulff #miyuhpapayuh #poc writers #blackwriters #black romance #rod x stevie #90s romance #90s fiction

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softpine · 1 year

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🎵 my first taste of looove, woahhh bittersweet :’(

that’s not a dumb question at all !! it’s actually a little bit of both. in the beginning, matt was in such disbelief about actually dating stevie that he was happy to go at whatever pace she wanted. he thought stevie would get tired of him quickly, so he was just enjoying whatever time he had with her. but as time went on, stevie ended up trusting him more, which means he saw more of what’s going on in stevie’s life & her past, and he started feeling like he might be in over his head. matt just wasn’t prepared for how serious things have gotten in stevie’s life lately.

so, long story short: in the beginning, he was ready for either a casual or serious relationship, but when he realized just how serious it could be, he started to backpedal.

AHHH that’s the highest compliment, that’s exactly what i hoped to accomplish!! 💖💖 i always worry that i spoil too much in asks and stuff, but as i’m always saying, it’s about the journey, not the destination!

omg yes that’s the perfect way to describe matt right now! “I thought we would have more fun together, but... we don’t really.” is probably the most immature thing matt has said, but i can’t even fault him for it, because they are so young. matt isn’t a bad person for wanting a fun, casual relationship at 17. it just majorly sucks for stevie, especially given the abrupt way that everything happened :((

lmaoooo i know 😭 it’s because he genuinely thought this was going to be a totally amicable breakup. he knew stevie has been acting weird for the past few weeks, and he sorta thought it was because she was trying to let him down easy. this is how it would’ve gone in matt’s head:

matt: hey i brought you this frog

stevie: that’s cool thanks. but i think our relationship has run its course

matt: true 👍🏽

stevie: still friends though?

matt: yep

oh no that’s not actually happening!! no one is cheating on anyone! i wrote that out a long time ago because i really really just don’t want to write cheating into my story, and i found another effective way to get the outcome i needed :) i’ll share more info when we’ve gotten past the point where it would’ve happened!

wait do you not consider asa and finn to be good men fjskdjsd ? i get it though, i’m so sad for her 😭 the thing about matt is that even after all of this, he isn’t a bad guy. he truly wanted the best for stevie. all the times where he comforted her or got her out of a bad situation still means something, it still matters, even if the relationship ends badly. “don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened”....... but stevie is obviously not there yet lol

he actually did mean “i love you” in a romantic way, just like stevie, but he doesn’t think it’s enough to make their relationship work. i don’t want to get into it toooo much, because matt will talk about it later, but he very much does love stevie! but..... yeah 😭 hug your dog extra for me jfksjds

i’m sorry to all the matt/stevie supporters out there lmaooo i’m ruining everything 😭 i genuinely feel so sad because i loved them too ;-;

oops i didn’t see this in time, i pretty much covered it in this response!! aside from the stuff that i can’t tell you yet :P

show up at my house and we’ll cry together because i’m pissed too fjksjds

godddd i know :(((((( i literally want to scoop her up in a bear hug and never let go fjskjds thank you so much for reading 💖

#if you or a loved one has been afflicted by softpine's storytelling you may be entitled to financial compensation #not from me. but from someone #asks #anonymous #nonsims #brandi answers

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bshmatthews · 6 months

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writing some D/s alternate universe fic and having a lovely time. here's a couple scenes (warnings for all the usual D/s universe things plus the fact that this is very much a trope inversion kinda deal)

(Sam is showing Dean (who is in the hospital with sub sickness) his tattoo that demonstrates various traditional pigments for designation markings from around the world.)

“The next two are really cool.” Sam pointed at a box with a bright green next to a more muddled purple. “These designation pigments are used in combination in parts of the Philippines. This one is a Dom mark, like the previous one, but the other is totally different. Goes from light blue to red in the presence of exoalgesotin.”

Dean had never heard of that one in his life. “What the hell is exo-? Exo-al-jes-?”

Sam went a bit pink. “It’s, uh. People who enjoy inflicting pain tend to produce more exoalgesotin.”

Inflicting pain? Dean scooched away from his brother a little.

“There’s nothing wrong with that in a consenting situation!” Sam protested.

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Whatever you say, man.”

Sam made a truly impressive bitchface and pointed at the next line, a deep dark brown. “And this one darkens with endoalgesotin. I’m sure you can guess what it indicates.”

Dean’s head hurt and he was tired. He shook his head.

“…Masochism,” Sam finally said, reluctantly.

Dean's done. “I am learning way too much about you, man,” he protests.

Sam held out his hands with a pleading expression. “But that’s just it, Dean! In some cultures, you would never publicly wear a mark saying you were a sub. Why is it that we get branded with these designations and not those? Why isn’t it… I dunno, ‘sad’ and ‘mas’ instead of ‘sub’ and ‘Dom’?”

Dean tried to imagine it and it made his head hurt even worse. “I don’t think I’m either of those, Sam.” He looked down at Sam’s marks, up to Sam’s earnest face, and back down at the marks. “And you seem to be both.”

Sam rolled his eyes and yanked down his sleeve. “That’s my point, Dean! All these distinctions are arbitrary! You have a sub mark because you produced submitalin when you were a kid. But what if you made dominatone too? What if you don’t produce either, or something else entirely is more important for your health and happiness?”

***

“‘Radical sub rights terror group “Spank Back!” have announced that they have kidnapped renowned psychiatrist Castiel Novak and are holding him for ransom,’” Stevie read.

Charlie grabbed Stevies’ phone and started scrolling. “What the hell?”

“Why do they always call us a ‘sub rights’ group,” Claire complained. “We’re designation abolitionists.”

“No we aren’t,” Mia firmly corrected Claire.

“It’s the name,” Rowena said. “It confuses everybody. We should have called ourselves -”

“‘Mega Coven’ wouldn't have lead to fewer misunderstandings, Rowena.”

Rowena casually waved away the objection. “Anyway, how much are we asking for the good doctor's return?”

Stevie put her hands on her hips. “Guys, we didn’t send any ransom note. This is a fake!”

“Oh,” Claire said, disappointed.

#fanfic #snippets #wip #spn #my fic

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steddieas-shegoes · 10 months

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Request: THIS IDEA JUST SPARKED HOLY SHIT?? OK have you ever watched Hot Ones with Sean Evens (first we feast is the youtube channel) so basically that but Steve is the one being interviewed but he LOVES spicy food??(watch the episode with Florence Pugh i LOVE it but basically I want it to be kinda like that) just yeah that. Jxjxnxnx please and thank you

MY LOVE ❤️ I admit, most of what I watch of really anything is either highlights on Tik Tok or short clips my friends send me because I am out of touch with the cool kids. But Hot Ones is SO GOOD. The Lewis Capaldi episode (I do love him anyways) had me actually almost pee my pants laughing. I hope you love this fun (short, sorry) thing for this! - Mickala ❤️

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

“I just don’t know why you got Hot Ones. They could have had the whole band on there making idiots of themselves,” Eddie pouted.

He’d been pouting for two days now.

In fact, his entire band was from the moment Steve called him on tour to let him know that he would be doing the Hot Ones interview next week.

“I told you, they had a last minute cancellation and my schedule just worked. Maybe you’ll get next season,” Steve said over the phone as the oven timer went off to let him know his brownies were done cooking.

“Whatcha makin’ Stevie?” Eddie’s curiosity was adorable.

He was in London, just got off stage from their last show in Europe. Steve was in their home in LA, having the last lazy day in before his awards season started.

“If I tell you, you’ll be sad you’re missing it.”

“Tell us! Tell us!” Gareth said from much closer than Steve would have expected.

“Hi Gare Bear. No personal space tonight?”

Eddie laughed as Steve pulled the brownies out of the oven and shut it off.

“He said personal space is for people who don’t like each other and he likes me very much,” Steve could hear Eddie’s eye roll in his voice. “A shame because I can’t stand him.”

“Play nice boys. You’ll be home in less than 24 hours,” Steve reminded them.

Gareth lived a mile up the road from them with his boyfriend and their excessive amount of cats.

Excessive being four.

Steve was allergic, so any amount of cats seemed excessive to him.

But Steve and Gareth were close, had been since even before Eddie and Steve started dating.

He was Steve’s best man in their wedding, much to Dustin’s bafflement. He only didn’t argue because Eddie softened the blow by asking him to be his own best man.

Usually if baked goods or a home cooked meal were involved, Gareth would show up at their door ready to partake.

“You’ll be home when I get there?”

“Yep. Cleared my whole day just for you, baby.”

“Good. Miss you.

“Miss you too. You heading to bed?” Steve poked at the brownies, making sure they were cooked.

“Yeah, I’m beat.” Eddie yawned to emphasize how exhausted he was. “Did your manager tell them you love spicy foods or are you just gonna let them assume you’re a wimp?”

“Nah. It’ll be fun.”

—-------------------

When he arrives on the set of Hot Ones, Sean greets him with a smile and a handshake.

Eddie wasn’t able to come with him, but Robin had promised to record the whole thing just for them.

She watched from the side next to his manager, Nancy, and his bodyguard, Hopper.

They settled at the table, got mic’d up, makeup touched up, and Sean reminded him that if he absolutely had to tap out, they could stop recording and edit everything accordingly to make it look like he made it through the challenge.

Steve wasn’t worried.

The first three wings didn’t even have a kick. It was just a casual conversation between friends.

He talked about his work with a theater group for kids in New York City, as well as his work on an indie film that was coming out in the fall.

The fourth and fifth wings had a pinch of spice to them, but nothing to make even bat an eye.

Sean continued asking questions, Steve continued answering them.

On the seventh wing, Steve was barely distracted from the question: “What project of yours are you most looking forward to doing next?”

“I think I’ll be most excited to take some time off with my husband, working on starting the family we’ve wanted for a while. He’s been on tour for most of the last year, and we agreed it was a good time to figure out what we wanna do,” Steve said as he took another bite.

He could feel the burn of this one at least, felt the sting on his lips and tongue.

But it was very manageable, and the jalapeno flavor was almost refreshing. It tasted fresh.

“Okay, I have to ask: did you practice these beforehand?”

Steve snorted.

“No. I’m just not very sensitive to spicy foods. I usually keep a lot of hot sauces in my house. Poor Eddie’s learned how to tolerate spice because of it,” Steve said as they brought out the eighth wing.

“I’ve never had anyone so calm at this point. I’m starting to think even the hottest one won’t really bother you!”

“I guess we’ll see!”

The ninth wing was hot. He wouldn’t try to deny it.

“It does have a lovely watermelon flavor to it, very fruity and tangy on top of the spice. I like it,” Steve smiled.

He knew his face was getting a bit red from this one, and he reached for the water, but only had to take a couple of small sips before he was ready to keep going.

“Alright, for this one, we’ll ask a question for you to answer before and then we’ll have one for right after. You ready?”

“Bring it on!”

And it definitely did.

It was hot, and he could feel tears in his eyes, and sweat breaking out across his forehead.

“Finally, we have a reaction!” Sean exclaimed.

“This one’s definitely a lot more than the others,” Steve added, reaching for the milk.

He could tell Robin and Nancy were laughing, probably very much enjoying any amount of pain he managed to have when he went into this so sure that none of them would get to him.

“Final question: Would you ever consider retiring to follow Eddie on tour with your future family?”

Steve nodded once, taking another sip of the milk.

God, this one was hot.

“Uh, yep. I mean, retiring is a strong word. I would definitely take a long break. I’ve always wanted a family,” he stopped to take another sip and a bite of the celery. “I’ve wanted to be a dad for as long as I can remember. And I know Eddie wants that, but he also doesn’t wanna stop making music, and the rest of his band isn’t ready to take a break like that. I know it would be easy for me, so my plan would be to take at least a few years off.”

“Doing alright over there?”

Steve laughed, fanning his face.

“I’m okay. That just went from a kick to a beatdown pretty quick.”

“Well, you’re a pro at making it look easy. You deserve an Oscar for this performance!”

It was a ridiculous sentiment, but funny, and Steve was up for an Oscar this year.

He finished the glass of milk and shook Sean’s hand, thanking him for having him.

“Eddie is already in tears watching Sean watch you in disbelief,” Robin started as soon as he joined them again.

“What was all that at the end?” Nancy asked, arms crossed, face furious.

He usually had free reign in interviews, but he knew Nancy would tell him not to mention anything even slightly related to retirement.

His career had really only just taken off a couple years earlier, and talking about a break or retiring now would immediately cut his chances of good roles in half.

“Just the truth, Nance. You know Eddie and I wanna start a family,” he said as they started walking through the backstage area to leave.

“I just didn’t know that meant taking a break. I thought you’d just take turns with stuff or hire a nanny.”

Steve knew that worked for a lot of couples, but they both were too family-focused for that. They didn’t want a nanny raising their kids.

“Why are you freaking out?”

“I’m not! I just would’ve liked a heads up.”

Robin stared between them, eyes bouncing back and forth like it was a tennis match.

“I don’t have to tell you every single detail of my life. You know all that’s relevant right now.”

Nancy sighed, but nodded, turning away and typing furiously on her phone.

His phone rang seconds later.

“Sweetheart, let me just say: it is so sexy how you handle those hot sauces,” Eddie’s teasing voice was enough to get him back into a happy mood.

“Your standards for sexy are so low,” Steve said as he walked to the corner to get as much privacy as possible.

“No, it’s just that everything you do is sexy.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours.”

“Steve!” Sean’s voice came from behind him, large smile lighting up his face. “Sorry to bother you, but would Eddie and the guys like to come on the show as our bonus episode this season?”

Eddie was screaming yes through the phone, much to their amusement.

“So…yes?” Sean asked.

“Yes!” Eddie yelled.

Sean walked away to update the producer while Steve kept talking to Eddie.

“See? Now you’ll get your show, too.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #request #ficlet #stranger things #rock star eddie munson #actor steve harrington #modern au

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marvelslegacies · 8 months

Text

Jarome | The Smell of Dying and Disinfectant | Self Paragraph

“He’s still breathing, he’s not brain dead.”

“Miracles happen everyday.”

“Don’t give up hope.”

Bullshit.

All of it. Bullshit. It had been almost a week of the same routine. Jarome would come into the hospital in the evening and pull up a chair next to Stevie’s bed. He played Stevie’s favorite song once at the beginning of his visits and once at the end. For the most part he just talked… he talked about his day, about Cass and Noah’s training sessions… sometimes he talked to the doctors, sometimes he just stared at the soap operas on the television.

He thought about reading to his cousin, but Stephen had never cared very much for books, especially fiction. He preferred news articles and textbooks, of all things.

For now, Jarome was speechless. He had been watching the slow rise and fall of Stevie’s chest through the blankets. He was breathing, a steady beep on the monitor told Jarome his heart was beating… all signs of life. So why did Stephen look so dead? He guessed it was that people aren’t alive because their bodies can function, they’re alive because they can feel…

The thought slipped away from him. He was tired of being a deep thinker and tired of trying to make sense out of what was a shitstorm of sadness and bad luck. There wasn’t a silver lining, not this time. Stevie would probably never wake up… the doctors would wait it out, making subconscious bets on how long it would take Jarome to ask them to pull the plug.

What a terrible right to bestow someone with, to choose the exact time their loved one is to die.

“Here, baby.” A familiar and loving voice said from behind him.

He looked up and found black pudgy fingers holding a Jones orange cream soda by the neck of its bottle. Jarome’s eyes traced from the bottle up the arm and past the sleeves of a Nurse’s outfit. It was Miss Rita, the nurse who had first allowed him in to see his cousin, the nurse who cared too much for the better.

She had taken to giving Jarome special attention because she’d peaked at the records and discovered that he and Stephen were the only surviving members of their dwindling family tree. Jarome found it hard to react to her in most cases, not sure what it was like to be babied by a woman. He had long since lost any motherly figures he would have needed, or did need, in his life.

“Thank you.” He said, feeling guilty for practically snatching the bottle away. He twisted the cap off and took a long gulp, he swallowed hard the first time and the drink went down wrong. He shut his eyes and took chaser sips of the soda to try and alleviate some of the discomfort.

“Slow down now. Visiting hours don’t end until 8 o'clock.” She chided. He lowered the bottle and twisted the cap back on. She put a meaty hand on his shoulder. It was warm to the touch. For a moment, Jarome felt an innate desire to rest his head on that hand and just snuggle with Miss Rita. But again, so many social walls kept him from acting on such an impulse.

He reached up and covered her hand with his own. “I really appreciate all you’re doing, Miss Rita.” He said, not looking up with her, his eyes instead resting on Stephen. “Don’t you worry, baby,” she told him casually, “If you need anything you just hit that nurse’s button. Alright?” He nodded in agreement and felt her hand slip away from him. She disappeared out of the room.

She could have been a ghost, an apparition, this entire time. Jarome wouldn’t have known the difference. Not at this point. He bent forward to set the drink down but it slipped and clattered against the tile before rolling underneath the bed, soda gushing out freely onto the floor. It hadn’t shattered or cracked but the sound was deafening. “Shit. Sorry, Stevie.” He looked up as if to see if his cousin had been disturbed. He hadn’t. Jarome wished he had been.

Strong tears welled painfully in his eyes and poured out like the first wave of an army on enemy soil. He wanted so much to believe that Stevie was alive… but the man just looked so dead.

Cass shook his head, his face read only of pity but his heart throbbed in agony for Jarome. He had never seen his leader cry before… when he’d first gotten back he seemed cold and reserved, but not sad. Never sad.

He teleported. Away from the hospital. Back home. So as not to intrude.

Jarome hadn’t noticed him at all.

#028

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jamesbuchananxsteviegrant · 3 years

Text

I Pick the TV Show, Rogers Shuts His Cake-Hole | Bucky x Steve x Reader (Angst, Fluff)

Category: Angst, Fluff (Suggested) Age: 14+ Trigger Warnings: none, other than the standard explicit language Ship: Bucky x Steve x Reader Summary: Steve Snaps At Reader When He’s Stressed, Resulting In Her Being Very Upset Request: "can u write where steve/bucky is overwhelmed with something and when reader asks to help or is telling them to relax they snap at reader and reader is hurt which makes them feel really bad afterwards. thank you sm. i love ur writings. and this is anon right? is it alright if u dont post my response if its not anon? im sorry. thank you so much. ur blog always pictures great stucky imagines. 💗💗💗" Contains Spoilers for: N/A Word Count: 2,488

---

A given, the super-soldier had been on nonstop missions for the last month or so, but she thought she was helping him feel better, not making him feel worse.

“Would you like anything to eat, Stevie? You’ve barely moved all day.” (Y/N)’s voice is small. Quiet.

She’s leaning through the door of his study where he’s sat putting together his mission reports from the last three or four missions he’s been out on.

He shakes his head but doesn’t even turn to look at her.

Sighing, the woman walks further into the room where her boyfriend is slouched over the desk.

“You gotta take a break, Stevie.” She whispers, resting her hands on his shoulders.

She notices the way they tense up, but he still remains silent.

His fingers continue to write up his report on the laptop.

“I’m worried about you, Stevie; talk to me.”

“I’m busy, (Y/N).”

“I know you are, baby, but you’ve gotta look after yourself too.” She attempts, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. He pulls away.

The woman furrows her brows.

“Steve, please, you’ve got to-”

“(Y/N), just stop!”

The shout is sudden and it makes her flinch back away from the man as he turns to face her.

“I’m fine, alright?! I don’t need you babying me all the time!”

She doesn’t respond for a second, surprised at her lover’s outburst.

He says nothing more, simply turns back to the laptop and continues typing away.

“Steve, look how stressed you are. Can you please just-”

“STOP! Okay?! Just stop! Leave me the fuck alone while I finish these neverending mission reports. For once in your life can you just understand that not everything is about you?!”

(Y/N) swears that being shot in the heart wouldn’t hurt half as much as the words that just came out of the man’s mouth.

Her mouth opens and closes as if searching for the right words to say, but that hurt.

Is she really that bad? Is that the truth behind all of this? That she’s clingy? Thinks everything is about her? That was never her intention. (Y/N) is well aware of how important being an Avenger is. Hell, she is an Avenger, for Christ’s sakes.

She says nothing more and leaves the room.

She can’t even decide if she feels sad. No. She’s not sad, she’s not angry, she’s not… anything.

Numb.

Naturally, her feet lead her to their room. Steve’s room. They all basically share the super soldier’s abode since they all got together, but right now she doesn’t dare open the door.

Doing a full one-eighty spin, (Y/N) takes herself back to a place she barely touches anymore. Her room.

It’s pretty empty. Most of her clothes are in Steve’s room, in her own walk-in wardrobe. Her bed is perfectly made from the last time she slept in here - maybe a year ago?

The woman walks around her bed and straight onto her bedroom balcony, overlooking the lake at the back of the compound, and stays there. For three-hours. Until Bucky comes looking for her.

He came home from his mission about thirty-minutes ago only to find their shared room of Steve’s empty. He searched just about everywhere, completely clueless.

“FRIDAY, where’s (Y/N) and Steve?” He finally gives in.

“Captain Rogers is in study five, and Agent (L/N) is in her private quarters.”

Now that makes the brunet furrow his brows.

Why would (Y/N) be in her room and not his or Steve’s?

He prioritises finding (Y/N) first, knowing Steve will be writing up mission reports, no doubt.

Despite them being together for over six-years now, he hesitates when reaching for the handle of her bedroom door. Instead, the man opts to knock.

No answer.

“(Y/N)?” Nothing. “Doll, it’s me; can I come in?” Nothing.

Bucky tries the door handle and finds it unlocked, yet still hesitates.

“Baby?” He calls out. Again, nothing.

He’s cautious now. Scared.

Her room looks as untouched as the last time he saw it, which was a few months back when she was after one of her plushies.

“(Y/N)?”

It’s when he feels the chill of the midnight winds ruffle his hair that he realises her balcony doors aren’t fully closed.

Striding straight over, his eyes widen at the sight of his girlfriend curled up in the corner of the outdoor area, crying.

“(Y/N), baby, hey, what’s wrong?!”

Bucky immediately drops to his knees in front of the woman, reaching for her hands and gently tugging them away from her tear-stained face.

“(Y/N), doll, look at me.” His voice is gentle. Soothing.

She does almost instantly but her sadness stays.

“What happened, baby? Are you hurt?”

The fear and sincerity in his voice is enough to prompt the woman to shake her head. Yes, she’s hurting emotionally, but he needs confirmation that she’s not dying.

The woman immediately sees the relief take over his features, but he’s still concerned.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

Her eyes stray away from his, not wanting to tell him what’s got her so upset.

“Hey, no, look at me, baby,” He whispers, hand lightly grasping at her chin to raise her face back up to his. “What’s got you so worked up, (Y/N)?”

Another shake of her head as she tries to escape her lover’s hold.

“Baby, please, you’re scaring me.”

Her face contorts into something close to heartbreak as she wants nothing more than to reassure the man in front of her.

“It’s okay, Buck.”

“It’s not okay! Doll, I haven’t seen you cry since Stevie nearly died on that mission in Ohio like two-years-ago! Talk to me.”

She takes a deep breath and wipes her face of the shedding tears.

“Do you want me to get Stevie?”

The question is innocent and makes sense, but her eyes widen and she shakes her head desperately.

“No! No, please, no.”

That truly makes the super soldier concerned.

“Doll, please can you tell me what’s happened?”

Never in the last eight-years that Bucky and (Y/N) have known each other has she been so reluctant to see Steve.

Another sob escapes her and it’s breaking his heart.

“Baby, please.”

“Steve got mad at me, alright?!” She manages an attempted shout. “I just wanted him to look after himself.”

“What happened? What did Steve do?”

He’s concerned. Massively.

“I was trying to get him to eat; he hasn’t eaten properly in so long. He’s so overworked and he’s hung up on all these mission reports. He told me that not everything was about me - shouted at me; told me to stop.” She’s whimpering and sniffling again now. “Please get him to eat something, James.”

That last sentence is the one that crushes him. She’s upset, yeah, but above all that, she’s still worried about the blond super soldier.

“Come on, baby, let’s go to our room and get into bed, yeah? I’ll go and speak to Stevie.”

Her eyes meet his and she looks scared, but the ocean blue gaze that he returns makes her bound to his every command.

The woman nods.

“Okay.”

“That’s my girl.”

With the help of the Winter Soldier, (Y/N) manages to stand up, letting him lead her out of her private room and into their shared one of Steve’s.

“Here, let’s get you into your PJs, yeah?”

He doesn’t leave room for negotiation as he helps his girlfriend strip out of her casual dress and into one of his oversized t-shirts.

“You get snuggled up in bed, doll. I’m going to go and get Stevie, okay?”

He hates how she looks nervous at the mention of their other lover’s name.

“He loves you more than words can describe, baby girl, I promise you. He shouldn’t have lashed out at you, I’m gonna talk to him, okay?”

A hesitant nod and forced smile is enough for now.

“I’ll be back shortly, I promise.” He leans over and gives the woman a kiss on the lips, leaving her with one of her favourite shows playing on the TV.

“Bucky,” Her choked up voice calls out just before he leaves.

The man turns from his place in the doorway.

“I love you.”

The smile that takes over his expression is contagious.

“I love you too, baby girl. More than anything.”

Despite his reassurance to the woman, he’s pretty damn pissed for a number of reasons about Steve losing his cool with their girl. Reason number one being, how dare he? Reason number two being, he knows better than to overwork, yet here we are.

Bucky doesn’t even knock once he approaches the glass doors of the study where Steve is sat typing away on the laptop.

The blond doesn’t even glance up to see who entered. He barely heard the door open which enrages Bucky further.

The brunet slams the lid of the laptop shut without saying a word, prompting Steve’s head to shoot up, glaring daggers at whoever has interrupted him.

“What the fuck, James?!”

That makes Bucky really get annoyed.

“Are you serious right now, Rogers?”

“I’m in the middle of about seven different mission reports, Buck, I’ve gotta finish them.” The man sighs, going to open the lid of the PC once more, only for Bucky to hold it down. “James, seriously,”

“No. What you need to do is explain to me why our girlfriend has been crying for the last God-knows how many hours?”

That makes Steve snap back to reality.

“What? (Y/N) has been crying? Is she okay?”

Bucky literally rolls his eyes at that.

“Are you fucking serious, Steve?” He repeats, Steve looking confused, expression contorting as he realises that his boyfriend is seriously angry at him.

“Bucky, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

The Winter Soldier’s head lolls back as he groans in frustration.

“You seriously have no idea?” He asks, rhetorically, watching Steve look almost scared. “Do you often shout at your girlfriend and forget it happened?”

Cap’s eyes widen at that, and he visibly gulps.

“What?”

“She came in here to make sure you were looking after yourself, which you weren’t, by the way, and you tell her that not everything is about her?! Are you fucking stupid, Steve?!”

He remembers it all too well in that moment, turning his head down to avoid the frustrated glare of his male lover.

“No. No, you don’t get to look away from me. Look at me.” Bucky demands, watching the blond super soldier reluctantly do so. “I come home from my own exhausting mission, search for (Y/N) for thirty-minutes, and find her crying her God-damn heart out on the balcony of HER room; not our room, Steve, no. Her room.”

Steve’s heart shatters and his eyes widen once more.

(Y/N) hates staying in her room. She’d always be in his or Bucky’s without a doubt.

“I- Buck-”

Bucky shakes his head and stands back upright as Steve is lost for words.

“I’m not mad at you, Steve. I get it, you know? You’ve been overworking for the last month, I know you’re stressed, but fuck, baby, you can’t hurt her like that. Do you know how much my heart fucking shattered when I saw her curled up in the corner of her own God-damn balcony?! It tore me apart. She hasn’t cried since you nearly fuckin-” Bucky chokes on his own word as he walks away from his lover.

“I’m sorry! Buck, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have let Fury send me on that many missions, I- I should’ve said no. I’m sorry.” Steve attempts, standing up and following the brunet, turning him around to face him once more.

“It’s not me you need to be apologising to, Stevie.”

Captain America nods and leans up to press a kiss to the man’s lips.

“I’m sorry, James.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and forces a smile.

“I forgive you. Of course I forgive you, I know you didn’t mean it, but I swear to God, if you hurt her again…”

Steve is already shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t dream of either of you getting hurt. Where is she?”

“Our room.”

He nods and begins heading toward the woman to which he owes more than he can give.

The door is half ajar when Steve gets there, he slowly opens it to reveal his girlfriend in all her glory, curled up under their Captain America themed duvet - which Sam bought the trio as a joke last Christmas. Her face is clear-as-day red from her earlier upset, and it breaks his heart.

The man knocks gently on the day as if not to startle the poor girl.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He offers a solemn smile when she turns to see who’s there.

He hates the way he can see her hesitation to speak to him as opposed to her usual squeal of his name, arms opening wide to welcome him into her cuddle-fest.

“Hi.” She manages, forcing her own smile.

There’s silence floating between them, the only sound being Jensen Ackles, in his role of Dean Winchester, talking a load of nonsense about pie on the TV that’s streaming Supernatural.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” Steve manages, taking a step toward the bed. “Nothing can excuse the way I yelled at you, and I’m so sorry for that, but, sweetheart, trust me when I say I didn’t mean it. I was so stupidly stressed, and I should never have let it get to that point.”

She nods, truly believing his words, but it still hurt.

The blond sits down on the edge of the bed, not daring to cuddle his girlfriend until she’s comfortable.

“I love you so much, (Y/N) (L/N).”

A bigger smile taints her lips at that.

“I love you too, Steven.” Her voice is barely a whisper but he hears it clear as day.

“Can I hold you?”

(Y/N) smiles and shakes her head as if he was being silly.

“You never need to ask permission for that, Stevie. No matter what.”

With another sad smile, he pulls the woman into his arms and holds her tighter than ever before.

“I’m so sorry, my love.”

“I forgive you, but no more missions for a while.” She whispers.

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky’s leaning against the doorframe, watching the interaction. He took a detour to Tony’s office and made sure to give the billionaire a piece of his mind about making sure Fury didn’t have Steve on any missions for a long time.

“Is this the last episode?” The brunet speaks up, stripping himself of his clothes as he enters their room properly.

“Yeah.” (Y/N) nods.

“I still think we should watch Vampire Diaries instead.” Steve chuckles, mirroring Bucky’s actions.

“I pick the TV show, Rogers shuts his cake-hole.” (Y/N) teases, mocking a line from Supernatural and snuggling herself in the middle of the bed, sandwiched between the two super soldiers - where she belongs. “I love you both.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

“Love you always, doll.”