#i might just send an email to a few and see how it goes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

2smolbeans · 3 months

Note

Thinking about the replacement student from that AU you wrote. Thinking about how it must have felt, to so suddenly go from mundane life to being deeply, obsessively loved. Thinking about how, to some people, that would be so /addicting/. Thinking about how they could have found out they’re nothing more than a prop, a test for MC. Thinking about how far they might be willing to go in order to feel that way again, to be loved like that again. I have… many thoughts about this lol

How the "Replacement" student felt after realising they were only a tool to test Mc

Yandere Obey Me Brothers x Mc (Replaced Au)

◇Read here for context◇

Tags: Implied nsfw, self-loathing, envy, replacement goes from hating you to being happy that they're not you, possessiveness, mentioned waterboarding, character backstory, story lore, just some light hearted stuff overall ^^

*this went unedited

__________________________

So for background, let's get to know our 'rival student'. In most of the Obey Me Replaced Aus, the rival student is always this perfect person who someone managed to bewitch the brothers and someone who wanted the worst for Mc. But this rival student, Alex, isn't what you expect. You see, Alex was your typical geek, always on her phone, scrolling, reading her books about fictional fantasy love interests, stealing away the main character into their magical world. When she was in her second year in college, she happened to come across an attractive man sitting behind a booth that showed an opportunity to study abroad. Seeing how no one was bothering to look at the table, she saw this as an opportunity! The more she talked and got to know the man, the more interested she was in this program. I mean living expenses, costs, and free money?! Why wouldn't she consider taking the exchange program? They're practically paying anyone who signs up!

So after grabbing the man's email and talking back and forth, she was able to read over the consent forms, the legal contracts, yada yada- and signed them all. After the transportation process and the whatnot, here she was at Devildom! At first, she had no idea where she was, infact she was mortified once she realised that she was in hell (or at least a certain part of it). But after the introduction and the promise of safety, especially after seeing some angels walking around- she was able to adjust! So what happened when she met the brothers? Well, she wasn't dumb. She knew these were the seven deadly sins just by seeing how they interacted with each other and hearing them bicker each others names. So, knowing the seven deadly sins, she kept her distance. She heard that there was supposed to be a human around in the house, but no matter how hard she looked - for some reason, she couldn't find you. It was like you were hidden..

As days went by, she noticed a few things. She noticed how the seven lords argued about some sort of 'schedule' that they seemed very competitive over. She noticed the way they were really..Well she couldn't explain it. But they were intense. Their aura alone was suffocating to be around. It was like they were ready to snap at any moment. They were friendly, but in a way that she knew if she pressed any further in a conversation, they would simply stare into her soul with an expression that would send her into a primal fear.

Eventually, after a while- she started to warm up to the brothers. She couldn't recall how or why, but it just happened! They connected so well that she almost forgot that they were the seven deadly sins! During this time, she had actually seen you from the corner of her eye. But if she was being honest, she was too distracted from all the exciting moments the brothers would entangle her in. She had never felt so..Loved before. The feeling of someone always validating your emotions, someone to call out to, someone to be in sync with. It was like her prayers had finally been answered! There was one time you had tried reaching out to her, but she was so entranced by the brothers and their tempting offers of intimacy- she might've brushed you off.

But of course, all things don't last forever - and I guess that's where the rose tinted glasses came off and realilty began to settle in. In reality, the brothers didn't love her. Of course, there had to be a motive behind all those gifts. Demons always have a motive, after all. And that motive so happened to be you. She was just a prop, a tool, an example to be made out of for you. Once she realised that, she grew bitter. It was terrifying how fast they were able to drop the act and reveal their true nature. She felt fooled, helpless, and pitiful. She played the role perfectly. The human fooled by sin.

So when she saw you being bombarded with the love she once had, she grew jealous of you. While you ungratefully received the love she wanted, she got the cold shoulder and mockings. While you would hide and try to blend in with the crowd, she would put herself out there and try over and over again to get their attention. Eventually, she felt the shame rush over her as she realised her desperation and pitiful attempts to win the 7 lords back. That still didn't stop her from hating you, though. She knows it was childish at first, but she despised you. What did you have that she didn't? Why were these unearthly lords so obsessed with you? Why couldn't anyone love her like they loved you..? Don't you see how lucky you are? It's not fair.

So, for a period of time, she was filled with envy. So much envy and bitterness that Leviathan himself would often feed off from her jealousy and snicker at her pathetic state.

Now, did Alex- this 'replacement student get over her grudge? Yes. But in an unfortunate way. After a period of self-loathing and wrath against you, she realised how much freedom was held back against you.

She noticed the markings of their packs littered across your body, she espically took note on how the eldest brother Lucifer would make sure to that your clothes would reveal those certain areas, even if it came off as..Exposing. She saw the way Mammon would cling onto you painfully tight. She recalled how uncomfortable you looked when his claws would push against your hip a little too hard. She remembered the time when she saw Leviathan drowning a poor angel that you talked to from one of your classes while you cried and begged for him to stop. She could remember the way he nonchalantly went on his phone while his tail wrapped around their body, pushing them up and down for long periods of time against the cold waves- only stopping when you agreed to his request with a smile on his face. There were nights where she'd hear you screaming in Asmodeus's room..Though she doesn't really want to talk about that..To save you dignity of course..She also doesn't look at Asmodeus's devilgrams as well for those reasons...Yeahh..She could go on a whole tangent about what she's seen, but she knows it's enough for her to realise that she really dodged a bullet. This was a blessing in disguise! A lesson to be learned!

So Alex stops trying to get attention on herself and continues on with her life. Learning witchcraft, magic, and the education that hell had to offer. She's still trying to get over that awful feeling of betrayal and jealousy. But the more she looks into their eyes, the more she realises how severe the situation is. Especially when one night, Belphegor had visited her dreams and gave her a nice little 'warning'. (She now tries to avoid sleeping as much as possible and has scars all over her body)

So every time you go missing and the brothers ask where you are. She'll just point to where she saw you run off and hide away somewhere to avoid seeing what happens next. Overall, when it comes to finding that love again and dealing with the losses, she copes in many ways. Either imagining scenarios in her head of what could've been or journaling in her book. But if you were to ask her if she would steal the brothers away from you, her answer would be an immediate no.

She couldn't imagine going through what you have to go through. At this point, it's a "love them, not me!" situation. So for now, please leave her alone, let her deal with her heartbreak, and just don't pull her into your circle of hungry demons.. Please.

A/N: Funfact, Mc had once snuck in a "help me" note to the replacement student. The replacement student in question ripped the note and pretended like nothing happened! It's not her fault that when you gave her the note that Beel was breathing down her neck!

Also.. Alex was given consent forms and an early notice about arriving at RAD. You? You didn't have that luxury..

Surprisingly, Satan and Lucifer are chill with her since they know that she understands the circumstance and plays by the rules. Because of this, she made a request to move to the house of purgatory in the guise of "not being in the way."

Mc tries to reach out to the replacement student because they know that Lucifer and Satan are on good terms with them..

But thanks for the ask!! If anyone has any questions or specific scenes they want out of my Yandere Obey Me Replaced Au-, let me know!

____________________________

291 notes · View notes

steviesbicrisis · 8 months

Text

Update 13 extras

These are two extras from the latest update of my Steddie SMAU Gareth the Matchmaker. It contains spoilers from the latest update so be sure to go read that before this!!!

Timetable of the events in Update 12 and 13:

-----------

The day Steve spent thinking Eddie was done with him:

Steve's apartment has never felt colder. It downgraded the moment Robin moved back to the US, taking all the decor Steve has always made fun of her for but secretly liked, but at least he had the kids visiting and hours of Facetime calls with Eddie to make up for that. Now, Robin is gone, the kids are back home, and Eddie won't talk to him. He can't lie and say he isn't hurt by Eddie's complete lack of trust but also, can he really blame him? how would he have reacted to a compromising video of Eddie, similar to his? Steve would like to think that he would give him a chance to explain but, who knows?

With his schedule completely cleared, lost sponsorships, and no press until his team comes up with some sort of public statement, Steve finds himself all alone in his apartment, with nothing to distract him or keep him away from checking his phone every thirty seconds, just in case Eddie texted him and he didn't notice.

He checks again. Still nothing.

Logically, he could call Gareth and ask him. But he can't keep bringing him into their relationship and hope that he will fix it. Also, Steve is afraid he will discover that Gareth has also blocked him.

The rest of the day goes on excruciatingly slow, he doesn't move from his couch except to go to the bathroom, his phone always in his hands as he absent-mindedly scrolls through comments filled with rage and insults (he will deal with breaking the promise he made to Robin once she arrives in Tokyo).

The thing is, the comments don't even hurt him.

A few years before, he would've gone crazy for one not-so-positive comment about him, but now he finds himself not caring at all. These people don't know him, their words mean so little. Eddie's silence is much more painful. It doesn't take him too long after that to realize that he would gladly have the whole world hate him if he could have Eddie loving him back as much as he did.

It's around six that Steve decides to write the email. It feels so formal, so cold, and he isn't exactly the best at writing but he's desperate. He writes everything in one go and doesn't even do a double-check before pressing send. He sighs.

Around midnight, the knock on his door breaks the hours-long silence he has been immersed in the whole day, startling him. He realizes he didn't even have lunch and dinner. He takes a second too long to react so a second knock follows the first one. Steve drags his feet all the way to the front door, ready to accept any takeout Robin might have ordered to cheer him up or to chase out any journalist who might have found his address.

He's not ready to be face-to-face with Eddie. Eddie, with even messier hair than usual and panting as if he ran all the way to Japan from Messico. "Eddie" Steve's tone comes out way more broken than what he wanted to, but then he feels one of Eddie's hands on the nape of his neck and his arm around his middle and he can't complain. He has never embraced him like that. Steve hugs him back and buries his nose in Eddie's neck, the hand on his nape encouraging him with a small pressure, and he breathes in. They stay like this, on the threshold, both keeping a strong grip on the other, for a long time. Steve is scared of what will come after he loosens the grip, Eddie seems to be wanting to give him all the physical affection he missed during their weeks of separation. Steve breaks the silence, still not moving an inch "I thought you blocked me" comes out muffled by Eddie's shirt, but still clear enough. Eddie squeezes him even tighter "I'm an idiot", Steve can't see him but he sounds pained "Remember how you always tell me to charge my phone…?" Steve chuckles, gaining enough courage to turn around and look at his face "you really are an idiot." Eddie smiles back at him, happy to being able to look at him in the eyes "hello, sweetheart". Steve melts in his arms "hey to you."

Everything else comes out easier after that. They manage to move away from the door enough to close it, still keeping contact one way or another, and they move to the couch. With the constant pressure of Eddie's body next to him, his hands moving from his shoulders to his hair or his arms, the words come out easy. Steve gets exactly what he was whishing for: a chance to be heard. And Eddie listens carefully as Steve tells him everything.

The fight with Jonathan and the reason why he broke his camera.

His friendship with Tommy, Billy transferring to their school, how people just started to associate them because of their popularity and looks, a reputation that Steve had never managed to scroll off of himself even after high school.

He tells him about the countless times he tried to cut them out of his life, unsuccessfully. He tells him about the good parts, meeting Robin and the kids, doing the job of his dreams, and using his status to help others. He tells him about the bad parts, how he used to act in high school, the nasty things he said to Jonathan, and how he often looked the other way whenever Billy pushed around other people.

Even as Steve shares the ugliest parts of himself, not once Eddie loses his grip on him, not once he interrupts him or shows any type of judgment. Somehow, Eddie understands and he's okay with Steve's ugly parts as much as he is with the good ones. Steve doesn't know, but that evening, Eddie falls quite a lot more in love with him than he already was. However, Steve knows that even if the whole world hates him, Eddie doesn't, and that's all he can ask for.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie smau #smau #gareth the matchmaker #steve x eddie #steve and eddie #stranger things #corroded coffin #corroded coffin au #famous au #baseball player steve #rockstar eddie #platonic stobin #chrissy cunningham #modern au #sbc writes #GTM updates

206 notes · View notes

greatstormcat · 8 months

Text

Birthday Surprise

Gaz x f!reader

TW: NSFW 18+, phone sex, talk of body confidence issues, MDNI, chubby reader

Summary: you surprise your boyfriend with some special photos

You had known that is was highly unlikely Gaz would return from his most recently deployment before his birthday, and you were right. It wasn't too much of an issue when it came to his gift though, you could still get at least part of it to him while he was away.

"Happy birthday, babe" you smile into the camera on your laptop as you saw his tired face appear. He broke into a grin as soon as he saw you, warmth quickly replacing the exhaustion in his eyes.

"Hey you, thanks. Seeing you makes up for being stuck out here," he replied. The background behind him shifted wildly as he lay down on his cot, holding the phone above his face so you were looking down at him, his other arm behind his head.

"So, I have a bit of a birthday surprise for you. The best thing is you can enjoy it while you are away still," you tell him cryptically, and his eyebrow creeps up.

"Oh yeah? Am I waiting for a something to be airdropped here or something?" he teases with a grin.

"No you idiot," you chuckle, your face beginning to heat with a touch of embarrassment as you continue. "Its something I can email to you, go and open your inbox but be discreet. I don't need Johnny getting in on this."

With a confused look the world tilts again as Gaz sits up, the background tilting wildly again and his brow creased with a frown as he changes apps on his phone to open his email. The screen freezes and goes grey but you can still hear him while he opens his email. You know when he sees the contents as his breath leaves him in a rush followed by the most guttural groan you've ever heard.

The camera comes back and his face is a mask of shock, his pupils blown wide as he looks at you. "You went and had a photoshoot...you?" he asks with genuine surprise. "Wait..." the screen goes grey again as he switches app and goes to look at the three photos go sent him again, random noises of awe escaping his throat.

"Yeah, I booked it ages ago. Its what they call a boudoir shoot," you explain, blushing furiously. "I saw some videos online of bigger girls like me having doing this and I thought it might help my confidence, and you'd finally have the naughty photos you always wanted." Your fingers twist into the hem of your top while you speak.

"Fucking hell babe, these are so hot," Gaz says, popping up on your screen again. "I mean smoking hot. You have no idea how gorgeous you are. Thank you for doing this... are there more pictures or just these?" he asks earnestly. He shifts uncomfortably, and you suspect he is adjusting himself to accommodate his arousal.

"Oh there are quite a few more, I didn't want to blow up your phone with them," you smile shyly at his response. Suddenly someone in the background is calling out for him, and Gaz looks pissed off at the interruption.

"Shit, I gotta go. Call me before you go to bed, I want to talk to you again about these. Love you," and the call ends abruptyl.

You spend the rest of the day on cloud nine thinking about his reaction to the photos. He was always trying to help you with your self confidence and body image as you were wracked with insecurities about your weight and appearance. You’d always refused to send him any nudes or anything risqué when he was away, and he had never complained, but you knew he was disappointed. This was a huge step for you, and he had made it completely worth it.

That evening you climb into bed and phoned him as promised. He picks up the call and purrs your name with his silky smooth voice, making the hairs on your arms stand on end. You can hear him put you on hands free and the tell-tale sounds in the background making it clear that he was jerking off. "These photos of you babe... fuck... so goddamn hot..." he praised you.

"Kyle, are you looking at them right now?" you ask softly, closing your eyes so you can picture him somewhere secluded, cock in hand looking at the photos of you.

"You bet I am... my hot girlfriend wearing nothing but lace underwear... right on my phone screen," he growls. "Always wanted this... fuck..."

"Bloody hell, I can hear you stroking it," you mutter, feeling your thighs clench together in response. There’s a wet sound over the phone as his fist slips over the length of his cock repeatedly, his breathing ragged as his pulse races.

"Good," he replies, his voice strained as his jaw clenches trying to hold back his orgasm. "When I get back, I'm gonna be inside you before my bags hit the ground. Promise you that babe. Gotta repay you for these... shit… gotta fuck you so bad… till you can’t take it any more… fill you up… need to… shit.. oh shit…”

You hear the breath rush out of his body as he releases all over his fist, the contended grunts as he relaxes into the waves of euphoria. Your clit throbs as you listen, begging for attention.

For a moment there is just the sound of his breathing, then a rattling sound as he picks up the phone and holds it to his ear. “As crap as it is not being with you, this made it a little less crap,” he murmurs, words breathless and soft.

“I’m glad, I love you,” you tell him. “Can’t wait to see you again.”

“Me too love,” he replies with a grin to himself. “Do me a favour? Send another photo tomorrow.”

#kyle gaz garrick #gaz modern warfare #cod modern warfare #gaz smut #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod smut #gaz cod #cod mw2 x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick cod #kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz smut #call of duty smut #cod x reader smut #mw2 smut

190 notes · View notes

corrodedbisexual · 1 year

Text

The ultimate shadow ban survivor guide

I've seen multiple people I follow, or their mutuals affected by shadow bans lately (makes me wonder if it's @staff's attempts to fight bots going totally haywire). As someone who survived a 2-month-long shadow ban on my main this winter, I thought I'd make a post.

First step of being shadow banned: calm down and take a breath. A shadow ban is just a stupid glitch in tumblr's anti-spam system. You're not losing your blog. You're gonna need a whole lot of patience, and deal with inconveniences, but it's fixable.

Read the incredibly useful post All About Shadowban by @that-damn-girl. It outlines the symptoms quite well. The only thing I'd point out is "your original posts won’t be visible to your followers either" - afaik that doesn't happen. Everything you post and reblog will still be visible to your followers, and also they can interact with your posts - like them, reblog them, reply to them.

Just like the post says, contact support. I recommend using a different email than what your banned blog is registered to; not because your ticket won't go through (mine actually did, as I found out when they finally replied), but because you might not receive an email confirmation for your ticket (it's somehow tied to the anti-spam thing, I think), and you're going to worry and try to send more tickets, like I did.

Now wait. And wait, and wait, and wait. They are SLOW. I've seen some miraculous 1-day unbans in the #shadow ban tag, but most people, like me, wait around a month for support to reply. Those are the same guys going through thousands of bot reports every day in addition to user tickets.

If you're going to wait, might as well keep blogging. Now if this is your sideblog that's shadow banned, consider yourself lucky. Make a new temporary sideblog, use it to post your original stuff so it goes into tags (mind that it might take a few days for a new blog to start showing up in tags). Reblog everything to your shadow banned blog so you still have all content in one place and your followers see it. If it's your main that's banned, you can still do that, but there's the extra pain of not being able to reply to posts or send non-anon Asks, since that is only done from main. Might need to register a separate account for that.

Some more fun facts under readmore.

Fun fact #1

Trying to send support follow-up emails in the request confirmation email isn't going to do anything to speed up the process. But I did tweet at them using this tumblr support summoning picture by @cornmayor and offered a raccoon blood sacrifice to resolve my issue when it was like a month with no response. This is what they replied.

3 hours later I got an email that my shadowban was lifted. I honestly don't know if it was a coincidence, but I mean, this is tumblr staff. Maybe they do accept blood sacrifices.

Fun fact #2

If you're wondering why my shadow ban lasted 2 months if I got a support reply after 1 month, well. It's hard to say exactly how their ban/unban system works bc support replies exclusively with pre-written template sentences, but basically they fucked up. The first time they told me my blog has been restored, I gained pretty much all functions back, except that my posts were still not appearing in tags. Which means probably that being hidden from tags is some kind of different flag on your blog that they forgot to remove. So I had to send a follow-up ticket and wait another month.

My advice is, when they tell you it's fixed, don't take that at face value, go and check all the functions you'd lost (replies, messaging, asks, tagging, appearing in notes, getting mentioned by others).

#tumblr #shadow ban #shadowban #tumblr support #reference

650 notes · View notes

tgmsunmontue · 28 days

Text

Online & Anonymous 4/16

Hangster. Explicit. Years before they meet in person Bradley and Jake strike up a friends-with-benefits relationship online. And then something more like an actual relationship.

Odd year = Bradley's POV and Even year = Jake's POV

>>Bradley chatting (bold and italics)

>>Jake chatting (italics)

2005/2006 2007 2008

2009 – Bradley

>>Have you heard of Grindr?

>>Why do we need Grindr, we have this…

>>Ha. So you have heard of it!

>>You can use Grindr to pick up outside of this messaging app. I think I’m going to sign up.

>>Also you can send and receive pictures, if you’ve got a good enough phone with a camera.

>>You want to see photos of me?

>>I wouldn’t be averse to seeing some.

>>Would you send me photos of yourself?

>>That would sort of be the point.

He’s never going to push, and also, the only phone capable is expensive, but god he really does want to see a picture or two of Jas. His imagination is fine, but he’s intensely curious about whether Jas lives up to his imagination. Not that he’s settled on any one image, they haven’t exchanged specifics, other than length and cut/uncut status. They’ve been talking long enough for Bradley to have picked up enough other clues. The way Jas talks, is from Texas and in the military, he’d bet that he was white, but sometimes he imagines darker skin under his fingers when they chat.

>>Do you have a type?

>>Yes and no.

>>That’s a cop out.

>>It’s also the truth.

>>My type is male.

>>I’m not that much older than you.

>>I’m still figuring things out as well.

>>So what have you figured out so far? What do you know you like?

>>A little bit of stubble, but not beards.

>>Muscular arms and thighs.

>>Close to me in height.

>>And confidence. The guys I’ve been with, where it’s been good? Like really good? They’ve been… sure of themselves. Their confidence was justified nine times out of ten.

>>Yeah? I’m going to take that as life advice right there.

>>You do that. Haven’t led you astray yet have I?

… … …

Grindr is different. It feels more risky, with putting photos out there, and having the location enabled. He leaves his face out of the images, matches with guys who do similar, mutually assured discretion and also deniability. While it might feel riskier, it is also so much easier to hook up. As time passes more guys download the app and the number of matches goes up. With all the dick pics he’s sent, he has seen more dick in the last few months than he has in the entire six years prior.

Sometimes the hookups are mediocre, rarely complete busts, but on the whole it works for him when he’s on leave. He occasionally looks when he’s not on leave, but he reinstalls the app and then deletes it in moments he knows are safe. He doesn’t trust the people around him to respect his privacy and not poke around, despite having a passcode on his phone. He still uses his laptop to chat with Jas through the website, and he realizes they could email each other and send photos that way. He could just get a free email account.

>>So. I bought myself a new phone.

Bradley reads the message, lets his breath out slowly, licks his lips and feels his entire body prickle with anticipation. This feels like a next step. And it comes just as he was about to suggest they exchange email addresses.

>>Yeah?

>>Any particular reason?

>>You know why.

>>Stop playing dumb.

>>Could have saved the money. Just had a thought that we could email each other.

>>How safe is that?

>>Anyway. I made an account. You want my user name?

>>Is it not 00JASTYX?

>>No. It’s not.

>>That would have been easier.

>>Are you going to tell me?

>>Nope. Think I might make you work for it?

Bradley laughs, shaking his head.

>>Contrary bastard.

>>You don’t think I’ve already earnt it?

>>Just thought you might like the thrill of the chase.

>>You can’t see me but I’m rolling my eyes.

>>Am I not worth chasing?

>>Kind of feel like I already caught you.

>>Exactly. So now you have to find me. I’ve tried to make it worthwhile.

Bradley’s mouth goes dry.

>>Really now?

>>Yep.

>>Challenge accepted.

… … …

He can’t spend every moment trawling through Grindr profiles. That way lies many things, including a potential dishonorable discharge if anyone sees him. He doesn’t stop to pay much attention to the photos, instead paying attention to the brief words. He knows how old Jas is and where he’s from and that he’s in the military. So he turns off the location, because he could be anywhere in the world for a start. There are hundreds, if not thousands. A needle in a haystack comes to mind and he knows why the location aspect is so important. He’ll persevere though.

Early 30s. Nope.

New York native. Nope.

Student. Nope.

Late 20s. Nope.

Athlete. Nope.

Fit. Well yes, he’d have to be, but he’s also Canadian. Nope.

Mid-20s. Southern boy. 6’1”. Good with words, better with my hands. Maybe?

He looks to the username then and it’s TJASX and he laughs. This has to be him and he looks at the first photo. Bradley stares. If this is Jas, he’s gorgeous. Or at least his body is. He’s known Jas is military for over two years, and hell, he might not be anymore. Although he suspects he is, body like that posing in the photos, face carefully cropped out to just show the hinge of jaw or column of his neck. His dog tags are even visible in one photo. He should tell him to remove that photo, because that photo feels like confirmation that this is definitely him. Bradley doesn’t know whether to admit that he’s also military, that’s safe enough surely.

>>Just as gorgeous as I thought you’d be.

>>Those photos actually of you?

>>Of course. Why would I use someone else’s photos?

>>Because people lie on the internet.

>>Are those photos yours?

>>Yep.

>>You’re hot.

>>So are you.

>>Glad you think so.

>>I’m serious, I was a scrawny kid. Had to bulk up but I’m always a little self-conscious.

>>Well you’re gorgeous.

>>Nothing to be ashamed of.

>>Want to lick you all over.

>>One thing though, you need to take your dog tags off if you’re going to be posting photos.

He pauses, thinks about what he’s going to type next.

>>I took off mine.

He sucks in a breath and closes the app, terrified but no idea why. He knows Jas won’t care, but it still feels like he’s exposing himself, baring himself to attention that he has avoided for the last few years. He taps the phone against his forehead, breath coming a little short and he opens it again.

>>Holy shit.

>>Nick?

>>Yeah. Hi.

>>You’re military as well?

>>Seriously?

>>Yep. DADT and all that.

>>Holy shit. That’s a weird coincidence, right?

>>Well, 1 in 10 roughly right? Just lots of people not telling.

>>Thought I could maybe tell you.

>>Thanks for trusting me I guess. That’s… it makes me feel a little less alone.

>>You know what I mean?

>>Fuck. Yeah. Sorry. I know exactly what you mean. I should have told you sooner.

>>Would have been nice. But I get it.

>>It’s not something you go yelling or sharing with anyone.

>>No, not just anyone.

>>I feel weird that I know all of this stuff about you but I don’t know your name.

>>Well. DADT right?

>>Do you want to know my name?

He’s nervous, because he will share his name with Jas if he wants it, even if he just gives him Brad, that’s good enough.

>>Nah. I think I’m good actually. I think of you as Nick. Maybe if you were a bunch of letters and numbers I might want something more like a name.

>>But Nick works for me. If we ever meet in person, then we can exchange our real names. Also don’t know if I’m ready to give you my name, which I know is probably hilarious to you considering all the tips you had to give me when we first started chatting online.

>>I think of you as Jas. Like Jace, short for Jason or something. So your random letters and numbers is a name for me too.

>>Oh. Huh. That’s cool. Think you’ll find my name funny if we ever meet up.

>>When.

>>What?

>>When we meet up. Not if.

>>Okay. When we meet up. You’ll still find it funny.

>>Wait.

>>Do you always limit yourself to only when you’re on leave?

>>Yeah. Pretty much. For in person that is. Not worth it otherwise.

>>You know my friend that I came out to?

>>Yeah.

>>I think he’s under the impression that you’re my boyfriend or something.

>>Well. I’m something, that’s for sure.

>>Ugh. Bad joke.

>>I meant that I’m at least a friend. That’s something, right?

>>Oh.

>>Yeah. You’re definitely a friend.

>>My hot single gay friend that I jerk off with on the regular.

>>Yep. I’d say the same about you.

>>Yeah, but you have more than just me.

>>Jas, how much time do you think I have to spend online messaging people? You’re pretty much it, and have been for a while.

>>Really?

>>Yeah. I’m going out and hooking up with guys when I’m on leave, and where I feel like it’s not going to implode my career. But I spend more time being deployed and chatting with you.

>>Oh.

>>You okay?

>>Yeah.

>>Did you think I had a whole bunch of guys I was chatting with?

>>Yeah.

>>Did a few years ago. You’re the only one I kept it up with. I enjoy talking with you as well as the sex stuff.

>>You’re the only one I ever talked to.

>>You’re allowed to talk with other guys. And hook up with them.

>>You don’t owe me your fidelity.

>>I am using Grindr to hook up, but it’s a one and done kind of thing.

>>Do you think if we ever meet up it’ll be a one and done?

Bradley scrubs at his face, doesn’t want to make false promises.

>>I don’t know. We might take one look at one another and hate each other.

>>I don’t know.

>>I want more than hooking up.

>>Yeah.

>>Me too.

2010 - Jake

#online and anonymous #Hangster #Sereshaw #hangman x rooster #Top Gun Maverick fanfic

33 notes · View notes

izanyas · 7 months

Text

Fic Commissions: OPEN!

Hello! As some of you might know, I recently lost one of my two part-time jobs, and the remaining one barely earns me anything. I need some € to keep me going until I can be a bit more stable professionally, so I've decided to tentatively re-open fic commissions.

For now, I'll take 2 slots at a time, to see how it goes.

Rules:

I will only accept commissions from adults. I don't care if your 20yo friend is the one paying, if the prompt is from a minor, it's no.

I will accept commissions for any fandom I've written before (you can check the list at my AO3), as well as other pieces of media I have already watched/read. Feel free to ask. I will not, however, get into something entirely new for a commission.

I will write gen, romance, action, angst, crime, fluff, humor, smut, horror, pretty much any genre out there. Here are some more details:

Gore/violence is fine unless something squicks me personally.

I can write about abuse of any kind, but I won't write gratuitous explicit scenes of abuse on their own.

I will not write smut of minors. Smut of aged-up characters can be done depending on the characters and fandoms (post-canon/AU stuff for characters who are already well into their teenage years in canon, for example) but not indiscriminately. If I say no, then it's no.

Any queer relationship, identity, lifestyle is welcome.

I'm open to kink/BDSM prompts, we can discuss my limits/squicks in private.

AUs/crossovers/canon divergences are welcome.

OCs are welcome. OC/canon character ships are welcome. Reader insert is welcome. Pairings that I don't ship are welcome.

I will not write incest.

I will not write egregious age gap ships involving minors. 35yo/25yo is fine by me, but 25yo/15yo is a no.

I will not write updates/sequels/prequels for existing fics of mine.

I reserve the right to refuse a prompt for no other reason than not wanting to write it.

Prices:

1k words: 20€

2k words: 40€

3k words: 60€

4k words: 75€

5k words: 90€

6k words: 100€

Y'all know I am long-winded so if I go overboard by a couple thousand hundred words I won't make you pay extra for it, no worries.

How it works:

Requests are to be made by DM here or on Twitter, or by email at [email protected]. The length and details of the story will be decided together before I start writing. Feel free to ask for as many (or as few) things as you want.

I will ask for a down payment of 10€ for 1k words and 20€ for longer stories. Payment will be done via P@yP@l. The rest of the payment should be transferred once the story is finished, and before I post it. Example: for 3k words (60€), I will ask for 20€ before writing, and the remaining 40€ once the story is done.

Stories will be posted directly at AO3, in order to avoid a repeat of nasty past experiences (me sending a fic privately only for it to be reposted by the person under their own name lol).

If I am unable to finish the story for any reason, the down payment will be given back to you.

Thank you for reading! I would appreciate you sharing this post to anyone you know who has read my stories before, or who you think would enjoy reading and therefore commissioning them. Or just sharing the post in general.

If you can't commission me but would like to support me, you are always welcome to tip me on Ko-fi.

smooch smooch kiss 💓 :)

-Ro

#featured #commissions

72 notes · View notes

supernaturalfreakout · 4 months

Text

A Chance Encounter

[History on Your Side—Chapter 1.] Sam Winchester x Reader

Chapter summary: Sam and Dean are stuck with their current case. Sam searches for leads and gets more than he bargained for. *Please see the masterlist for entire work summary and tags* Masterlist | Read on AO3

Frustration tainted the air of the bunker, radiating from the library walls. As the clock ticked past midnight, blue-white light mingled with the orange of the table lamps, bathing Sam's face in a steady glow as he hunched over his laptop, engrossed in a tireless search. Dean, meanwhile, paced the floor, book in hand. Each footstep reverberated inside his skull, adding to the collective headache. The brothers' current case—a woodland haunting across state—had led them down a dead-end, fueling their late-night study.

Sam furrowed his brow, silently mouthing as he read the contents of his latest webpage. "Dean…" he called, eyeing the screen in concentration. "Think I’ve found something… a Dr. Y/L/N at KU, Lawrence. Might be a long shot, but his research might tie in with our case."

Dean glanced up from his book with a raised eyebrow. "A doctor? How's he connected to our ghost problem?"

"Not a medical doctor, genius... A History PhD… His studies focus on historical folklore. There could be a link between the local legends and our haunting. It's worth a shot, right?"

"Okay, well..." Dean nodded, clapping his book shut. "It's the only lead we've got right now. Let's hit him up."

Sam danced his fingers across the keyboard, crafting a persuasive pitch in their email. "Alright, here goes nothing," he muttered, hitting 'send' with hopeful anticipation, his eyes strained, heavy.

"Hey, we're not just any journalists," Dean interjected, reading over Sam's shoulder. "We're the duo that digs deep into untold stories. Our quest? Unveiling the hidden truths woven into the fabric of this town..."

Sam smirked at Dean's embellishments. "Right, 'cause nothing grabs a scholar's attention like a good ol' fashioned mystery. Hopefully, this Dr. Y/L/N will bite."

Dean chuckled, slapping his brother on the back. "Lighten up, Sammy. Who could resist the allure of two charming reporters like us?"

Sam rolled his eyes, closing his laptop with a yawn. "Sure, whatever. Let's just hope for a response. I'm off to get some shut-eye."

---

The next day, after his morning run, Sam sat in the bunker's kitchen, opening his laptop to a reply in his inbox. Taking a sip of his coffee, he ran a hand through his hair, optimism growing with each word he read.

"Dean!" he yelled, a spark of excitement coloring his voice. "Dean... We got a reply!"

Dean emerged from the hallway with a yawn and creased pajamas. He had only just got up—having medicated last night's headache with trash TV and beer. "Sup?"

“We've got a meeting... this afternoon." Sam rose an eyebrow, eyeing the screen with intrigue. "Dude seems pretty interested..."

Dean stretched, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Great, well... better hit the road, I guess. But Sammy, we're grabbing grub on the way."

---

After a few hours' drive—including a pit stop for food—the Winchesters arrived in Lawrence. Clad in their finest 'reporter' outfits, they paced the university corridors where they eventually located the history department. There, amidst the academic bustle, they requested to meet Dr. Y/L/N.

"Y/N!" the receptionist called, turning her head to the staff room behind her. "Your 3 o'clock is here!"

"Thanks Janice, I'll be right there!"

You emerged from the staff room carrying a large pot of coffee, your presence immediately capturing the attention of the brothers.

"Hey! You must be Tom and Jack. Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N." You greeted them warmly, charm evident in your smile. "Come on in, take a seat… I hope you like coffee!"

Sam and Dean exchanged a surprised glance, momentarily taken aback as you beckoned them to follow you into a nearby office. You were not what they had expected, that's for sure.

"You're Dr. Y/L/N?" Sam asked, as you closed the door of the small room behind them.

"This is she," you said, sensing their unexpected reactions. "Is… there a problem?"

"No, no!" Sam reassured, trying to mask his surprise with a charming smile. "We just expected someone… older."

You smirked, taking a seat across from them behind the small desk. "And… with a penis?" you questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Sam coughed, smiling awkwardly, clearly embarrassed by his sexist assumption, whilst Dean scratched his head, trying to think of a witty response.

"I'm just messing with you…” you teased, chuckling at their reactions. “I get that a lot. Anyway, how can I help? Your story sounds interesting…"

---

Over cups of coffee, the brothers tactfully explained their ‘research’ and the answers they were seeking.

“Hm, from what you’ve told me, the haunting sounds connected to an old legend rooted in the area…” You pulled out a book from your bookshelf, tracing your fingers over the weathered text. “Ah, here!” You placed it on the desk in front of them, gesturing to the page as you spoke. “This passage here... it speaks of spirits being tied to the ‘earthly realm’...”

The brothers listened intently, their focus on the information you provided, but Sam couldn’t help but feel uncharacteristically distracted, stealing small glances at you as you spoke.

“According to the lore of the local tribe,” you continued, running a hand through your hair, “the spirit seeks ‘retribution for an ancient injustice.’”

Hm, interesting... Sam mused, darting another glance your way.

“Is there any way to stop it?” Dean leaned in slightly, urgency lacing his words.

You straightened in your seat, taken aback by this new line of questioning. “What paper did you say you worked for again?”

“The Eureka Herald”, “The Wichita Eagle,” they replied in unison, gritting their teeth for blowing their cover.

You paused for a moment, eyes twinkling with amusement. “You’re ghost chasers, aren’t you?” you asked, eyeing them with suspicion, leaning back in your chair.

Sam and Dean shared a look, a mixture of surprise and caution in their eyes.

“What makes you think that?” Dean asked, his posture more guarded, his tone casual, yet wary.

You took a sip from your mug. “It’s not hard to put two and two together,” you said, trying to hide your smirk as the brothers faltered over their cover story. “Plus, you’re not the first ghost chasers I’ve encountered…”

Sam and Dean exchanged another glance, a silent agreement passing between them. They were used to keeping their true identity under wraps, and were surprised by your directness—your ability to see through their façade. But there was something about your demeanor that made them feel a level of trust…

“Okay, you got us,” Sam admitted, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But we’re not exactly ‘ghost chasers’… we’re hunters.”

“Hunters?” you raised an eyebrow.

Dean nodded, his expression more serious. “We’re not the kind of hunters most people imagine... We’re here to make things right, to put spirits to rest, to protect people from the crap they don’t even know exist.”

You listened intently, shifting slightly as you processed their words. “So... you hunt the things that go bump in the night? And in this case, you’re here to put an ancient spirit to rest?”

“That’s the plan,” Dean confirmed. “So... think you can help us, or what?”

You hesitated, chewing on your lip as you considered their request. You’d known ghosts were real, yes, but, hunting them...? This was all new, and... exciting.

“Alright,” you relented, undeniably curious. “I’ll try my best to help, but promise you’ll respect the history, the people involved?”

Sam leaned in, interjecting your thoughts, gently. “We promise,” he affirmed, his tone earnest, as he looked into your eyes. “We’re not just seeking closure for the spirit, we’re aiming for closure for the tribe, too.”

You paused for a moment, your gaze softening as you regarded the younger brother with a newfound respect.

“Yeah, exactly,” Dean added, nodding towards his brother. “What he said...”

You took a deep breath, giving in to the excitement you couldn’t deny. “Okay then... let’s uncover the truth behind this thing.”

“Great!” Dean exclaimed, visibly relieved as he slapped his hands on the sides of his chair.

Sam smiled, silently mouthing a gentle “thank you” in your direction

You smiled back, but quickly averted your gaze, feeling a sudden blush rush into your cheeks. “Well,” you rose from your seat, trying your best to ignore whatever that was. “I’m afraid my office hours are over… I have to head back to work, but, I’ll be in touch.”

Sam stood, unconsciously mirroring your stance. “Yeah, yeah—of course.” He cleared his throat, reaching for the book on the table, directing you a gentle glance. “Would it be okay to take this?”

“Yeah, sure... anything that will help. In fact... here... have these...”

“Thanks,” Sam smiled, as you passed him a few more books from your bookshelf.

“We’re staying at a motel just out of town for a few days,” Dean explained, handing you a scrap of paper with their contact details on it. “Let us know if you find anything.”

“Of course,” you said, glancing at the note in your hands. “Sam and Dean Winchester?” You swear their names sounded familiar...

“You can never be too careful in our line of work, lady,” Dean joked, as they finally introduced themselves properly.

As you walked them out of the department, Sam turned to you, shifting the pile of books under his arm. “See you soon, Dr Y/L/N, thanks again.”

“You’re welcome, Sam, but please, call me Y/N. I’ll never get used to being called Dr... it sounds waay too formal.”

Sam smiled, but quickly looked away as you returned his gaze, suddenly feeling rather warm.

“Right, let’s make a move.” Dean slapped Sam on the shoulder, snapping him out of his haze. “See ya later doc,” he saluted, turning to walk away, Sam by his side.

You chuckled as they left, your eyes lingering on the taller brother as they faded from your view, disappearing round the corner.

---

Back in the Impala, Dean turned towards his brother with a sly grin. "So, Sammy... You seem to have taken quite a liking to Dr. Y/L/N back there... not just interested in her research, huh?"

Sam's eyes widened, trying to mask his embarrassment. "What? No, Dean—it's not like that."

Dean chuckled, giving Sam a playful nudge. "Come on, man! I saw the way you were blushing back there. I've never seen you stumble over your words like that. Plus, you've been staring more than the ghost we're hunting."

"I... I wasn't stumbling, or staring!" Sam contested, despite knowing full well that his attempts to deny it only made it more obvious.

"Sure Sammy, whatever you say," Dean teased, enjoying every moment of his brother's discomfort.

Sam rolled his eyes, trying to play it off. "I was just being polite! She's knowledgeable and helpful, that's all."

"Uh-huh, sure… whatever helps you sleep at night… Bet you'll be dreaming of that helpfulness tonight, huh?" Dean smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I mean, she's hot... I'll give you that."

Sam groaned, realizing there was no getting out of this conversation. "Can we just focus on the case, please? We have a haunting to solve."

Dean laughed, giving his brother a playful punch on the arm. "Alright, alright, Mr. 'I-Don't-Have-A-Crush’. Let's get back to business..."

Despite his attempts to steer the conversation away, Sam couldn't shake off the heat rising to his cheeks, knowing full well Dean would continue to tease him for the rest of the day. But as they drove off to pursue the leads you had provided, he couldn't help but feel optimistic, wondering what might come of this partnership.

Chapter 2

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #supernatural #ao3 fanfic #dean winchester #fanfic #history on your side #spn #x reader

30 notes · View notes

hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog · 1 month

Text

Just Breathe- Series

Good evening everyone! here is the second chapter in the Just Breathe Series. This series was inspired/prompted by the ask that was submitted by @deans-spinster-witch to read the first chapter click here for the original post. @deans-spinster-witch was gracious enough to lend her skills in ruffing out a few of the mishaps in chapter one, and I will post that updated version at some point and link it, and did the same for this second chapter.

Here is the original ask for a refresher.

Ask from @deans-spinster-witch:

Tell me about Dean falling in love with a girl who has long covid - maybe they met when he saved her from a monster and they became friends, she occasionally helps him with research or patches him up if he gets hurt. He doesn’t hear from her for a while, and when he goes to check on her, he finds out she’s in the hospital with Covid - a monster he can’t save her from. He realizes he loves her, but may lose her. After she gets out he keeps coming to check on her because he knows she tires easily/has trouble breathing at times.

This second chapter is going to start with a bit of time jump, but don’t worry we got flashback a plenty to fill in the gaps. Multi POV between the main character, Y/N, and Dean Winchester, mentions of Sam Winchester. This is angst, sweet/fluffy, swearing, implied sexy times. Oh and word count is at 7,250-ish, sorry but not sorry.

Sadly the Winchesters are not mine, but the story is so please don’t steal and post as your own. But likes, reblog, and comments are always welcome. As always any mistakes like grammar, spelling, function is also all mine, so be kind when pointing it out, I do my best.

I would like to know if you like this chapter would you want to see a third chapter? or maybe a prequel to answer any questions you might have regarding Y/N and Dean? Let me know.

Thank you again for reading, and you would like to send me a prompted or story idea, send it my way.

Happy Reading

Time Jump to 4 months ahead.

Y/N POV

Shit, Shit, Shit! Where the hell are my keys! You yell out in frustration as you move frantically around your house, looking for the one thing that you need to get to your appointment on time. Tossing the pillows from the couch, goddamn it! You were never like this, ever since COVID, your short term memory has been foggy to put it nicely. Resorting to keeping both a paper list and digital one on your phone, is your new normal. Walking into a room to do something, and instantly forgetting what you came for. Case in point, not remembering where you put your goddamn keys!

You hate running late, you pride yourself on always being early to things, and this appointment was an important one. Walking into the kitchen, you start to look in the not so obvious places. Opening up the fridge, nope not in there. Pull open the freezer next, yep there they are, right next to the pint of mint chip ice cream that you just had to have yesterday at like 11 pm. Only to then be disappointed that you now can’t stand the taste of your once favorite ice cream, fuck you COVID!

Ugh, seriously, you are going to be the death of me, you think. Grabbing your keys, you push the freezer door closed, and head off to the hospital for your fourth month CT scan. Locking the door behind you, the crisp air of fall hits you. God how you don’t want winter to come any sooner then it has too. Winters in Michigan can be brutal, especially on the coast line. Pulling your light jacket close to you, you quicken your pace and get into your jeep to start up the car quickly, and pull out of the driveway. Not noticing the very familiar black impala parked about three houses down.

****

You make it with time to spare, as you wait in the waiting room after checking in, you try your best to calm yourself. Fiddling with your phone, you find that scrolling through Instagram is getting you nowhere and your emails have been radio silent for months now. Exhausted, you put your phone away, you look around the room. For mid morning it's not too busy, the daytime talkshow mixes in with the white noise of the hospital. It's so beige, beige carpet, walls, even the uncomfortable furniture is beige. It makes sense, given it's a hospital; money should be spent on actual patient care, not on the latest interior furnishings., But still, at least get some interesting artwork. Looking to the piece across from you: an abstract painting of paint strokes in grays, blues, and you guessed it, beige.

“Ms. Moore?” The nurse's voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you look up to see her standing at the entryway in blue scrubs, dark brown hair pulled back, with a kind smile.

“Yep” you reply to her, but you're sure she would have guessed that was you, as your head snapped at attention when your name was called. “Hi”, giving her a smile as you walk towards her.

“Hi,” she replies, “can you tell me your last name and date of birth?” She starts walking down the hallway, looking at your chart, the path was second nature for her. You rattle off your last name and birthday for her, then she stops just off from an open doorway, “right in here.” Letting you walk in first.

She takes a seat at a desk, swiping her badge to start keying in some information. “So, here for your four month CT scan.” she states, but it also feels like a question.

“Umm, yeah, it's my second one.” You reply, still getting used to coming to the doctor more than twice a year. You only ever went if you were feeling really sick.

“Looks like the first one was clean, but we like to do a few in close succession when someone has had a severe case of covid.” she explains, her eyes are kind, and reassuring, “I am sure this one will be just as good, and then hopefully the doctor will schedule them farther apart.”

She must see the worry on your face. Not sure how to respond, you just nod your head. She takes your vitals, asks if anything else has changed since your last visit, and if there were any other concerns you wanted to discuss today. “No, I don’t think so.”

Typing a few more things in the computer, and then swapping her badge again to lock the computer. “I am surprised your brother is not here with you today.”

“What?” You're taken aback by this, brother, does she mean Dean? How would she know about him? Was it in your chart? You don’t remember adding him as your emergency contact.

She can tell you are put off by this. “Sorry, I should have re-introduced myself. I was your nurse when you were in here with covid.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I should have…”

“No, it's fine. Honestly, I wouldn’t expect you to remember me.”

Thinking back to that time, she does seem familiar now, “well it's nice to see you again…” struggling to remember her name quickly, but not inconspicuously looking at her badge, “Bridget.” This gets a laugh out of her, and you do the same. “I was happy to see your name on the schedule today, and I thought you were the one with the very cute, and very attentive brother. That's why I am surprised he is not here.”

Ah yes, Dean, not being here. That is a long, long story that you're sure she does not want, nor has the time to hear right now. You give her a forceful smile, “Yeah, Dean, he has something today, so just me.”

Her smart watch goes off, and she looks at the time, “well we should get you down to CT. After your scan, we will come back here and the doctor will be with you to go over the results.” She gets up, and you follow.

****

The wait feels like forever, and in the small exam room with nothing to look at but an exam table -and beige walls - you were lost in your head. Worrying about what if they found something, what if you developed lesions, or anything that could compromise your health. God, how you wish Dean was here, or even Sam. Someone to hold your hand and distract you from the impending doom and dark thoughts that were creeping in. Dean would distract you with lame jokes, or stories about how Sammy was terrified of doctors. He would get you to smile anyway he could, probably go so far and raid the supplies of tongue depressors and cotton balls, saying something like “they don’t need all of them, do they?”

“Ms. Moore, how are we today?” The doctor's voice breaks up your fleeting thoughts of Dean, as if he was right there, but as soon as the man in the white coat opens the door and steps through, Dean disappears.

“Umm, good, at least I hope so.” You reply, wanting to keep the pleasantries short, let get to the point so you can get out of here.

He takes a look over the file, and then pulls up the scans on the computer. He seems to be taking forever, did he not look at them beforehand! Come on man just tell me already! “Everything looks good, I am not seeing any growth of lesions or scar tissue from the tube.”

Relife floods your body, letting out a sight, “oh that great news, so I am done with coming in?” you hope so, wanting to never see this place again, at least for a while.

He turns to face you, his dark brown eyes are kind, but you can tell right away he is not going to give you the answer you want. “Not yet, but we can push them to every six months.”

Okay, twice a year, I guess that is a compromise you can take, “okay, so I will see you in the spring.” Starting to get up to leave, but he stops you.

“In two months, we can start doing six month visits. I want to see you again one more time in two months. If that scan is clean then we push them to six month visits.” He explains.

You sit back down in defeat, you're going to be back here in two months, really! You know you can’t take your frustration out on him, he is just looking out for your health and doesn’t want to miss anything. “Okay.” Slightly defeated, wanting nothing more than to curl up on the couch, and sleep for the next two months away.

Giving your hands a reassuring pat, “two months will fly by I promise. Is there anything else you want to discuss today? Still having some memory issues?”

You know that you should be honest with him, that you think you have gotten worse since Dean left, but honestly are you sure? He did so much for you in that short time, maybe, you were like this before, and he just didn’t point it out. Plus you just wanted to go home, what really could he do anyways? “Nothing new on that. I think I just need to get back to my normal routine and I will be fine.”

Getting up from his chair, “Sounds good. I will send Bridget back in, she will get you set up for your next appointment. We will see you in two months. Have a good day.” shutting the door behind him. You're back alone in that quiet room.

Alone, you're alone, once again. You can feel the panic start to creep in. Alone, and even though the scan was good, he still wants you to come back. Alone, no one to hold your hand, no one to make stupid jokes. You did this to yourself, you know that, he would have stayed, you pushed him…

“Alright, Doctor says two months humm.” Bridget's voice breaks through. It's light and airy. Trying to make the situation as pleasant as possible. As soon as she sits down, she can tell you're not alright, “Hey, what's wrong?” She asks, setting down the chart, and focusing on you.

Feeling a tear run down your cheek, fuck why are you crying. “Umm…it's nothing….yeah two months…” You take a ragged breath, pushing all your emotions down, down, down, to the deepest part of your soul where they should always live. You can cry when you get home. Suck it up for two more minutes!

“Hey, talk to me, what’s going on.” She is not letting you wash this away, she grabs the tissue box, and holds it out for you to pull a couple out of the box. “Your scan was clean, the doctor is just being cautious that's all.”

“I know it's just…I really wish he was here….”

“Dean,” she replies, filling in the blanks. You nod at this, and wipe your eyes and face. “I am sure if you talk to him, he will come to the next appointment.”

Oh if she only knew, but you couldn’t lay this all out on a complete stranger. Again she just wants to do her job, and move on to the next patient, you're taking up too much of her time. “I am sure you're right.” Taking a few ragged breaths.

She gives you a reassuring smile, and turns to the computer to book your appointment, reminding you that you can always change it to accommodate if Dean can’t make it this time. “I could tell he really cares for you. Even in the short time I saw him, he wouldn’t leave your side for anything. Practically had to kick him out every night when visiting hours were over.” Trying to make the situation light, and hopefully get a smile back on your face.

Giving her a short laugh, “yeah that sounds like Dean.” You can see it, him waiting until the last possible second. A security guard to escort him out.

Both of you get up, and she walks you to the door, and down the hall towards the exit. Seeing you coming back around, she decides to let you in on a little secret. Stopping you before opening up the door to the waiting room she leans in slightly. “Just between you and me, I knew he wasn’t your brother.”

“What….I mean…no he is….” You stammer out, hoping that she wasn’t going to bust you for…something, you're not sure? But still not wanting to get into trouble.

“Don’t worry dear, it's fine.” She quickly replies, trying to calm your fears.

You let out a sigh of relief, “How did you know?”

“Two things. One he just pulled on my heartstrings so much that I figured what would be the harm in him sticking around, even if he wasn’t related. Plus, if I was ever lucky enough to have a guy look at me the way he did to you, I would want him to be by my side every second.”

Her smile is contagious, and although you're still doubting that what you feel for Dean would ever be reciprocated, now is not the time to hash it out with her. ��What was the second?”

“I may have heard him one night on the phone with someone, saying he couldn’t lose you, that he needed to tell you that he was in love with you.'' She says matter of factly, pushing the door open and waiting for you to walk through.

*******

Dean POV

He watches as she pulls into the driveway and shuts off the car. He had followed her from a safe distance from the hospital to the store, and then back to her house. She didn’t notice once, even though he had taught her in the past how to spot a tail. Did she get bad news? Maybe it's the COVID that is affecting her hunter instincts? Fuck, if thats the case, what else could she be missing? Is it stupid and desperate of him to be following her, and watching from a distance? Maybe, but also not, if she is not noticing simple things like him following her. What if Lucifer, or one of his henchmen, came after her? Anxiety just thinking of irrational attacks on you causes his chest to tighten as he pulls back into the parking spot a few houses down.

He should be a man and go up to you, talk to you, and see you face to face. He missed you, your smile, your laugh - fuck, everything about you. He knows he screwed up. As soon as he did what he did, he wished he could have taken it back, but the damage was done. He kept saying it was for the best, that you would forgive him, and move on. But you can’t forgive him unless he stops being a little stalker and owns up to what he did.

Flashback to the night of the big blowup. Dean POV

Standing there, staring down the closed door, you wish right now you had superpowers to see through the door and see if she’s alright. Hell, you don’t need to be a superhero to know she’s not. You're just wondering what brought this on. “Y/N, come on, talk to me” you plead, softly knocking on the door. “I am sorry…I don’t mean to…” your rambling stops when you hear soft sobs from the otherside of the door.

“Just go away Dean!” She yells between sobs. “I can’t breathe with you here… I can’t…”

You grab the door knob, fear and pressure weighing down on you to get to her, to hold her. Most importantly, to make her understand that your overbearing protectiveness is coming from a place of needing to be in control, that you care for her, and need to protect her “Y/N, please just open the door, let's talk? I promise I will ease up, I can do better.”

You can hear her give a small laugh at that, you're about to question her on this when your phone goes off. Screw it, let it go to voicemail, she is more important than anything else. “I am not giving up on you, on us. You have to come out eventually.”

Your phone stops ringing for a second and then starts back up again. What the Hell? “You should answer that, Dean.” She states without hesitation, but with an undertone of sadness.

Letting out a sigh, you turn around. “Fine if you want to talk via phone, fine.” Walking away from her door into the living room, you pick up your phone from the coffee table. To your surprise it's not her name across the screen, but Sam’s. “What?” you bark out in frustration, not really wanting to talk with him right now.

“Dean, back off.” Sam says matter of factly. No pleasantries, just straight to the point.

“She called you? Why?” Confused as to why she is including Sam on this.

“She just needs some space, Dean, I think it's time you come back. Jody called and…” Sam calmly says, trying his best to diffuse the situation from the other side of the country.

“No, Sam, I am not leaving her! I can’t lose her again, I won’t… I love her, man…”

Your back is to the hallway, so you don’t notice Y/N standing there, listening, hearing what you should be confessing to her and not your brother. You don’t see her wondering why can’t you just say what you feel? Why can’t you just let down your guard with her and tell her?

*****

The slamming of a trunk pulls Dean back to the present, and he looks up to see you carrying an arm load of groceries. Of course you would do it in one trip. He shakes his head, remembering that you never like to take more than one trip from the car to the house. Your logic always being, as you told him, I am a single girl, I can do it in one go. He watched as you held the screen door open with your butt, as you switched all the bags to one arm so you could open the door with the other. Looking away once you're inside, Dean notices it’s about 20 minutes since you pulled in the driveway. Had you been sitting there this whole time? You have only gone to the hospital and store, but still your energy must not be back to what it used to be.

Maybe he should check, make sure you're doing okay. Look in the window really quick. Getting out of the car and walking the short distance, he looks over to your car to see that you still had some toilet paper and paper towels in the back seat. Knowing that you would be back, he decides to help you out. Opening up the door as quietly as possible he grabs the items, and takes them up to the door. Putting them in between the screen door and main door, he turns around to leave.

His eyes look in the kitchen window, to see you putting away your items. Your back is to him, so you don’t notice. You seem lost in your own world, on auto pilot putting things away. Dean takes a moment to appreciate that he can see you up close. His eyes scan the room, noticing the post-it notes all over. He never remembers you having so many of them before. He can’t read what they say, but they are everywhere; on the cabinets, counter tops, table, Was your memory getting worse?

Panic, and anger - at himself more than anything - sets in.

*******

Y/N POV

“I love her Sam, I am in love with her…I can’t…no I won’t lose her, I need to tell her how I feel…”

“You don’t love me, Winchester” your voice stops Dean from rambling on the lies that you know, in the end, he doesn’t mean.

Dean turns to see you standing there, your eyes red from crying. But you're not crying now; no, now you look pissed, like you want to kick some ass - and Dean’s is the closest one. “Got to go Sam.” Dean quickly says, ending the call. “What do you mean I don’t love you. Of course I do, I….”

You hold up a hand, and stop Dean from saying anything more. “No, you don’t. People like me, we don’t have sexy knights to save us. To fall in love with us, to whisk us away, and want to play house with.” Determine to get this all out, to get your point across and make him accept reality.

“We are your best friend, the girl you call on Friday nights when your date falls through, or you strike out with the bartender. We are your ‘wing woman’, we pick you up, dust you off, and send you back out into the world. We build your confidence up, while we sit on the sidelines alone.”

“Y/N that's not true…” Dean starts to protest.

“Let me finish, I have to get this out.” taking a breath, you can see he’s hurt, that he wants to argue, to explain his side. “Yes, you care for me, but you don’t love me, and you're not In love with me. You're in love with this idea of a life outside of hunting, you love the idea of playing house.” Closing the gap between you, even though you know better than to get this close to him. You're playing with fire, but you're desperate to feel him.

“You're right, I am in love with the idea of an apple pie life. But I want that life with you, no one else.” Dean interjects before you can shut him down, shut down what is going on between you two before it can even start.

Taking a chance, he grabs your hand and brings it up to his chest and places it over his heart. “Can’t you feel my heart? It’s racing for you. It always has, it always will.”

Feeling the softness of the white t-shirt between your fingers, you take a breath and inhale the smell of him. “Sooner or later we both know this won’t be enough, that I won’t be enough.” You talk to his chest, not wanting or able to look him in the eye, your voice low and shaky. “You're going to leave me, sideline me, and only blow through town when you need something.”

“That's not true! You have always wanted your own life. I always wanted to protect you as much as I could. The things that Sam and I deal with, the people and monsters we hunt, if anything ever happens…you are a vulnerability that they will exploit. I know it.”

“Maybe. Even more reason why you have to go…and never come back…” Glancing up to see the gut punch you just delivered written on his face. You try to take a step back.

Dean won’t let you go, bringing a hand around your waist, holding you. “What?! No! I won’t cut you out of my life. I now know I was stupid for ever doing that. For letting you live alone, or at the very least, not in the same state as the bunker.” He practically commands, with no hesitation. How could you think he would ever agree to this?

“Y/N, I need you in my life. You can’t deny that there is something between us.” His words are sweet, his voice is low as he leans into you. His breath fans over your face, as his hands caress your cheek. “Please, I need you.”

His lips are so close to yours, that if you lean ever so slightly, you would finally know how soft his lips are. Would they fulfill your fantasies? God, maybe you should live in this fantasy for as long as you can, screw being logical. Let it be a future Y/N problem, present Y/N wants to know what it's like to be wanted by Dean Winchester. “I…Dean…”

*******

Y/N and Dean POV

“Dean, what are you doing here?” Your voice pulls him from the memory of that night, and he looks to see you standing at the door, one hand holding open the screen door.

Oh fuck, well, this wasn’t the plan at all. Giving her a smile, “Hey Y/N, I was in the neighborhood…thought I would…”

“So you're stalking me now?”

“Hehe, no, I said I was in the neighborhood, wanted to see how you are…you look good.” He says, letting his eyes look at you. You did look good, but tired, your eyes didn’t shine like they normally did before; the spark, the hint of twinkle is gone.

“Liar, I look like shit, but thanks.” You quip, knowing that you don’t look good at all. Wearing a ratty hoodie and jeans, you opted for comfort over trying to impress anyone. “Well, thanks for stopping by.” You say, giving him a fake smile and turning to walk back in the house.

“Umm…Y/N, I could, I mean Sam could use your help with something, he knew I was going to be passing through and wanted me to stop by and ask for some help.” Quickly thinking on his feet, he creates an excuse. He didn’t want to leave yet, this is the most he has talked to you since that night. He would be damned if he was going to let you leave so soon.

You turn back to look at Dean, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth or not. Sam had your number, and you were still speaking to the younger Winchester - he didn’t break your heart and live up to everything you knew would happen. “Why didn’t he call me?” You question, wanting to make Dean work for it. He wasn’t getting in that easy!

He takes a few steps towards you, “well, like I said, he knew I was in the area.” One step lower from you, his green eyes lock with yours, silently pleading with you to let him in. “He wanted me to pick up a lore book on Pixies, and said you had a copy that we don't have in the library.”

“Fine, come in. I will go grab it.” You reply, turning away from him, letting him catch the door before it slams in his face.

Dean shucks off his jacket and boots, and looks around while you go back to find the book. He can now see the post-its in detail, reminding you where your keys, jacket, bag should be put. Making his way to the kitchen, cabinets are labeled with what should be in them: dry food, dishes, silverware. Daily schedule on the fridge. “Having fun snooping?” Your sarcastic tone has him turning on his heels to see you standing in the doorway with a book in hand.

“Umm…sorry…” he says sheepishly, hating that he got caught. He can see you're not amused, and he is really going to have to lay on the charm to win you back.

“Yeah, well at least I am keeping the post-it company in business. Here is the book.” You say handing it to him.

Dean takes it, and looks at it, giving it a nod, “Thanks, yep this is it.”

“Okay, well, you better get going, since Sam is in ‘desperate’ need of it and all.” Your voice is flat, not in the mood to deal with him. “You know where the door is.” You add, just turning that knife even deeper.

“Look, Y/N can we talk?” Dean can tell you're not your usual self, and he really wants to get you back.

“Oh now you want to talk? You sure as hell didn’t want to talk for four months. Didn’t want to talk when you woke up the next morning regretting that kiss, regretting what we said to each other, the promises you made.” You snap at him, the frustration building in you. Why does it always have to be on his time? God you were just getting over him, right?

“I know. I was a jerk, it was a dick move, and I am sorry.”

“You're sorry, really?That's all you have to say?” Turning away from him, just looking at him and his sad puppy dog face, you want to smack him. Fuck, you want to hit yourself for being an idiot that night.

******

“Dean…please…I…” You have to keep strong, tell him to go, you know this won’t end well.

“Please Y/N, You're the only good thing I have in this world, I can’t lose you.” Not waiting for a reply, his lips find yours.

They're soft, perfect, molded to fit yours, and gentle, Dean doesn’t force his way. Pulling away, when your lungs start to burn,you lock eyes with him. Lust blown, his lips slightly pink. No words are exchanged, you silently say everything you need to him at that moment, and he seems to understand. Bringing his hands to cup your face, he goes back in to kiss you more, letting his tongue swipe across your lips. You allow his tongue to dance with yours.

Fumbling your way to the couch, Dean falls back first, and you do your best not to land on top of him completely, giggling at the state you're both in. Dean looks up at you, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear, and looking up at you lovingly, “God, I love that laugh of yours.” He says, pulling you down on him. Letting you feel what you're doing to him.

“Dean, I have to be crushing you.” You protest, trying your best but failing at getting out of the vice grip Dean has on your hips.

“Nope, You're staying right here.” He says, as he starts to pepper kisses down your neck.

******

“Dean, I begged you to leave! I knew you never wanted me! And yet like an idiot, I fell for your charm and under your spell.” You grit out, turning on your heels and walking away from him. Fuck, you can’t keep doing this!

“I did ... .I do ...Y/N look at me” Dean pleads, setting the book down he follows you to the living room, grabbing your hand. “Please, let me explain.”

Turning around, you pull your hand back. His touch, like fire, like touching a hot pan. “You know, I thought for a split second you were telling me the truth. That you wanted me like I have always wanted you.” Pain radiates through you, your voice seems to be stuck behind a lump forming in your throat. God, you want to smack him, but at the same time, kiss him.

Dean’s speechless, trying to work out how best to tell you what he was thinking in that split second when he woke up in your arms that day. For one second he felt total bliss, that everything was falling into place; then reality of his life came back into focus.

“I know, it wasn’t my finest hour.”

You laugh at this, you think!? “What is there to explain? We kissed, had a pretty good makeout, groped each other over and under our clothes, but then we both agreed to take it slow. Right?” You ask for confirmation, even though you remember it all too well.

“Yes, but, Y/N, if you just let me…” Dean stumbles to explain.

“But then, I wake up the next morning alone on the couch with a note that says, ‘Hey, Y/N, Sorry, Sammy needs me, will check in soon.’”

The space between you two is nonexistent. You're trying to find anything in those green eyes of his that will refute anything you just said. Anything to explain that you're overreacting, but there is nothing. He has no rebuttal, because it's all true. He walked out on you, like his father did to him and Sam all the time. The worst part was, Dean had Sam to lean on; you were left with no one.

“Like I said, not my finest hour…” he mumbles out.

“Not your goddamn finest hour?ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!” you yell, slamming your fists into his chest and pushing him away. It does nothing to move him, and takes all your energy out of you. You stumble a bit, then lean back and sit on the arm of the couch.

“Hey, Y/N, please, calm down.'' His voice is heavy with concern, and he tries to help you up so you can sit on the couch.

“Don’t…touch…me…” You cough out. Needing water, you look to find your water bottle is nowhere. “Fuck….I…” You keep coughing, and try to get up.

“Water?” Dean questions. You nod, and try to get back up. “No, sit, I will go get it.” He tells you and quickly goes to the kitchen, and is back with a glass of water in seconds.

You down about half, the cool water helps calm you and your coughing fits. “Thanks” you mumble, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that he ‘saved you again.’ You don’t look at him as you sit down the glass and avoid him at all costs.

Dean takes this as his opportunity to tell you his side. Sitting on the coffee table so he has direct eye contact with you, he reaches for your hand. “Please, Y/N, I am truly sorry. I know I was a jerk for leaving you like that, and for never calling or coming back.”

You stare him down, not giving him an out on this one. “Go on. You will hear no objection from me on this one.” You reply.

Dean lets out a small sigh that clearly said fuck, alright here we go. “I was fucking scared, okay? I woke up, saw you in my arms, and for a split second I felt like I was home. My first thought was, this is perfection. No monster, no running the roads, crappy dinner food, and sketchy motels.”

He leans towards you, putting a hand on your knee, and lightly runs his hands up and gives you a knowing smile. “The perfect, sexy, beautiful, girl in my arms, that I can’t wait to wake up and…”

You stop his hand from getting too close to what both you and him want to touch. “Not so fast Winchester.” Knowing if he keeps going, you are definitely going to end up in a very compromising position. “No, I bet your first thought was, oh fuck what the hell did I do, and how the hell do I get out of it.”

“No, will you let me talk?. God, I see COVID can take your memory, but not your self-hatred or inability to butt in.”

You hold your hands up in a fake defense, “Please go on.” You quip back, leaning back into the couch.

Dean shakes his head, at least you’re sassing back, that is a good sign. “I got up, was going to start coffee for us, and while I was in the kitchen, Sam did call…

*******

“Hey Sammy,”

“How’s everything Dean, you kinda left me hanging? Did you and Y/N talk?” Sam asks, feeling like a schoolgirl catching up on the latest gossip between you too.

Dean takes a quick peek into the living room to make sure you're still asleep. “Yeah, everything is good. We talked and I think we are going to take things slow.” Dean explains, as he starts to make the coffee, he recounts most of the conversation between you two. Not all the details though, he wants to keep the really good stuff just for him.

Sam lets out a sigh, “That's good, I am happy for you both. But now I hate to ask.”

“What is it?”

“Look, I know you still want to take some time, until Y/N is fully healed, but Jody could really use your help. There is something in South Dakota that is running amuck, and she’s worried that Claire is going to try and tackle it herself.”

Oh Claire, how she reminds Dean of himself sometimes, headstrong and just ready to fight anything that wasn’t human. She is a good hunter, but she is young. “Umm…yeah…I am sure I can make something work….”

“Thanks Dean, I am sure it will only be a day or two, and then you can get back to Y/N. I will call Jody and tell her to expect you.” Sam says.

Saying their goodbyes, Dean hangs up the phone, and has to hold back from throwing it across the room in anger. Fuck! Not two seconds, and he’s already been pulled back into the madness. How is he going to explain this to her? She won’t believe him, she will be heartbroken again, think it's her fault, and say that she told him.

Seeing no other solution - or maybe it was that he didn’t want to wake you and see that pain in your eyes - he takes the cowardly way out.

*****

“So you went to help Jody, a friend of mine. And didn’t think I would understand?” You question him, after he explains the conversation between him and Sam.

“Yes…I guess I figure you would just see it as an excuse I came up with to leave you. Which it wasn’t, by the way.”

“But you said you would call, check in. But you didn’t! You couldn’t have been helping Jody this whole time? And even if you were, could you still have called!”

“I wanted to, but as I was driving away, I kept thinking about what you said, that you felt like an afterthought, that I blow through town whenever I need you. Take what I need and leave you with nothing.”

“So you figure, prove me right by ghosting me? Well, thanks Winchester, real fun.” You spit sarcastically, giving his knee a not-so-playful slap and getting up from the couch. “The door is still where you left it, you can see yourself out.” Fucking asshole. I need to get those locks changed tomorrow. You think, making your way to the kitchen to get some more water, to do anything but sit there and keep listening to him.

“Y/N, please. I am sorry, you're not an afterthought. The more that I kept driving, and the longer I pushed off calling you, it made it harder to call you. Because I knew as soon as I did I would lose you.”

“Funny, because the second you left, you lost me Dean. God, I woke up that morning and was devastated. Do you know how much I hate feeling like that?” Not needing him to answer, you lean up against the counter crossing your arms around yourself. Feeling the tears start to fall, you might as well go all the way.

“You know, I never wanted to be that girl, who cried over a guy, who refused to do anything but sleep on that goddamn couch for two months because it was the last place I felt safe, and whole, and seen. I could still smell you on the pillows and blanket.”

Taking a breath, you run your hands over your face. Taking another ragged breath, you work up the courage to tell him what you know he should know, but that you're scared to say out loud. “But the thing I hate the most, the one thing that makes me want to scream…is that I still love you.” You laugh at this. Its fucking absurd. Trying your best to stifle your laughter, but it keeps bubbling out of you in frustration and disbelief

Dean’s not sure how to react. On the one hand, you say that you still love him, but on the other hand your laughing like the fucking Joker. “Being in love with me is…funny?” he tentatively asks. Taking a few steps towards you, but not closing the distance.

Wiping the tears from your face, you admit quietly, “yes, because I know, no matter what, I will always let you back in. I guess I am just a masochist that way. I would rather have you in my life, and be heartbroken, than to not have you and still be heartbroken.”

Shaking your head, in disbelief that you actually said those words out loud, and to Dean no less. You look up to see him watching you, waiting. “God I am pathetic…you really should not have saved me that night…” you mumble the last part to yourself. Pushing yourself off the counter, you turn away from him, to straighten up the non-existent mess on the counter. Shit, should not have said that.

“GOD DAMN IT Y/N!” Dean’s yell booms, causing you to turn around to see Dean seething with rage. Taking the last few steps towards you, he pulls you into a vice grip of a hold. “Don’t you ever say that again, do you hear me? Do you?” He commands, shaking with hurt and pain.

He’s not angry at you, he's angry that you don’t understand how much you mean to him. That you hold your life as something subpar. Pulling away slightly, he lets go so he can hold your face in his hands. “Please don’t ever think or say that I shouldn’t have saved you that night.” His green eyes, glassy with tears about to be shed, bore into yours. “You are the only good thing in my life, and I know I have a lot of work to do to gain your trust back, and that my life is messy and chaotic, but please…please….don’t ever think I would regret saving you that night.”

You nod your head in response. “Okay” you whisper, “I promise.” You were taken aback by his outburst; Dean has never raised his voice to you, or looked this broken. Then again, you’ve never been this broken, or joked about that night before either. It was a topic that neither of you ever really discussed, more of an unspoken bond between you two.

Relief seems to wash over him. His hands fall from your face, his arms wrapping them around your waist, not wanting to leave the closeness of you. “I know I have a lot of work to do, and this may be pushing my luck. But can I kiss you?” Giving you a half smile, hoping that will seal the deal.

“Fuck, there’s that Winchester charm,” you joke, smirking as well. Screw it, it's been four months without those lips. You lean in and kiss him. Letting your lips dance with his for a bit, you pull back, “just as good and I remember.” you say cheekily.

“So, should we go make some new memories on that couch of yours?” Dean gives you a wink, walking backwards towards the living room, his arms still around yours.

You have no choice but to follow him, nodding. You know that you have a lot of work to do getting over your own insecurities and self doubt that Dean will get tired of you, or that he will regret being with you. You need to have faith in him, and in yourself, that you are worthy of a happy life with him; whatever that looks like.

24 notes · View notes

mistmarauder · 9 months

Text

Happy Thursday! I come bearing gifts!

A collection of one-shots by the wonderful @extasiswings as a fic book you can purchase with beautiful cover art from @like-the-rest-of-la. If you're interested, please send me a DM for the link!

This book includes the following Buddie one-shots for your enjoyment:

fire on fire • 6.7k

"You’re sleeping with him.” “I’m not—” Eddie rolls his eyes and corrects himself halfway through. “I’m not sleeping with him like that, okay?” Sophia looks at him for a long moment as her gaze turns from teasing to thoughtful. “But you want to be. Right?” [Or: Buck and Eddie get in the habit of sharing a bed while living together during quarantine. It's platonic until it isn't.]

With A Little Help From My Friends • 2.9k

“You know…several of us parents get together once, maybe twice a month or so. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like. I can add you to the email chain.” Not for the first time that day, Eddie’s surprised. It’s not that he’s opposed, more that the invitation is unexpected. He’s not particularly social—when he is it’s with the team or with Buck or with his family, all of them in each other’s houses, in each other’s lives both at work and away from it. Outside of them… It occurs to him that he’s never really known how to make friends. [Or: Eddie makes friends outside of work and realizes that Buck might not, in fact, be just a friend]

unfold me (tell me you love me) • 2.4k

Eddie follows the sound of running water to the kitchen. He stops in the doorway, leaning against the frame, and spends a moment just watching Buck scrub potatoes in the sink until the other man glances up and notices him. “Hey,” Buck greets. “Chris is reading in his room, I’m just working on dinner. How was the date?” God, I love you, Eddie thinks, and nearly has to bite his tongue to keep it to himself. [Or: Eddie goes on a date and has some realizations about what he really wants.]

for all the perfect things I doubt • 5.2k

Evan Buckley is really good in bed. Sometimes he wishes he wasn’t.

dream of some epiphany • 7.4k

Evan Buckley is lost. It’s happenstance that he wanders into the navy recruiting center—he’s been in San Diego for a few weeks, bartending late nights and weekends, living in a house with three other guys not because he needs the roommates but because he doesn’t want to be alone, and the military is…respectable. Stable. So Buck thinks maybe and opens the door. Buck leaves ten minutes later with a set of printed instructions for sending his first letter, assured that he can drop it off whenever he’s ready, and a name. Staff Sergeant Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz.

of men and of angels • 13.5k

For now we see in a mirror, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know fully even as also I was fully known. - 1 Corinthians 13:12 Eddie Diaz learns a lot as a kid. Boys aren’t soft. Boys don’t cry. Boys don’t kiss boys. As he gets older, he realizes that everything has exceptions. Boys can be soft sometimes. Boys can cry sometimes. And some boys kiss other boys. But Eddie likes kissing girls. And since he likes kissing girls, that’s the end of the story. Isn’t it? [Or: the one with all the repression]

translate the magic (show me) • 8.1k

“I think I might be bad in bed.” Eddie rolls that thought around in his head, trying to decide the best way to respond, weighing the options of what Buck needs to hear versus how to say it. It’s not a conversation he wants to be having, is part of the problem. Thinking about Buck desperately seeking connection through fleeting sexual encounters with strangers already makes him swallow back a wave of petty jealousy and possessiveness. But there’s an added level of insult to injury to the idea that Buck wasn’t even having good sex. Which maybe explains why despite his initial commitment to delicacy and tact, what comes out of Eddie’s mouth is— “You probably were. Bad at it.” Buck’s eyes widen, a strangled noise sounding from his throat. “Don’t pull any punches,” he shoots back as he hunches in the chair and drains the last dregs of his beer. “I didn’t mean it like that.” [Or: the one where Buck has a crisis and Eddie teaches him what good sex really is]

paint me a heaven with your bloodied mouth • 3.3k

Buck. Four letters. One syllable. Eddie knows it’s a nickname. He doesn’t know why Buck picked it or why Buck seems to use it exclusively, but he figures it isn’t really his business. And also that it probably isn’t that deep—all of them use nicknames at work or otherwise in their daily lives. Eddie himself might find it weird if anyone outside of his immediate family suddenly started using his full name regularly after so many years of only rarely hearing it from anyone else. So. Eddie calls Buck Buck. And he doesn’t think anything of it. At least…not at first.

all my atoms • 3.9k

Every atom of me and every atom of you...we'll live in birds and flowers and dragonflies and pin trees and in clouds and in those little specks of light you see floating in sunbeams...and when they use our atoms to make new lives, they won't just be able to take one, they'll have to take two. There are three things every child learns about daemons: Don’t ask questions or talk about another person’s daemon—it’s rude. Don’t put too much distance between yourself and your daemon—it’ll hurt. Under no circumstances should you ever touch someone else’s daemon. Simple. Straightforward. Easy to remember, easier to follow. That’s what Eddie thinks of the rules.

half agony, half hope • 4.4k

“My brother does look well tonight, doesn’t he?” Adriana asks, changing the subject as they turn. Her eyes spark with mischief when Buck hums idly in agreement. “Strange that bruise on his neck, though. I can’t imagine how he could have gotten such a thing.” “Perhaps his fencing partner got a bit overzealous,” he offers, despite knowing that won’t be good enough for her to drop it. [Or, after four seasons, the ton remains baffled that no engagement appears forthcoming between Viscount Buckley and the youngest sister of the Duke of Cederhall. But perhaps they should be paying more attention to the viscount and the duke himself...]

safety and home • 3.1k

The thing Eddie remembers most about the shooting isn’t the shot itself, or the pain, or even the fear—it’s the cold. He’s been through enough in his life to know that his subconscious works in weird ways. After Afghanistan he dreamed more directly of burning helicopters and gunfire, blood in his mouth and smoke on his tongue. Shadows and screams and guilt. After the well his dreams were of Christopher, Shannon, waves crashing on a beach. And Buck. Sunlight. This time...this time Eddie dreams of drowning. [For the prompt: "I'll keep you warm."]

light the dynamite • 1.6k

Buck shivers as he thinks back to earlier in the day, at the way Eddie snapped his name like a whip across the radio when he did exactly what Eddie and Bobby both had told him not to do. At the frosty glad to hear it, Firefighter Buckley, when Buck called dispatch back to tell Eddie he was fine if a little bruised. At the way Eddie had called him at the end of the shift, voice low and quiet and commanding, hooking deep beneath Buck’s skin and stealing the breath from his lungs until all he could manage was a rasping acknowledgment before hanging up. It could be seconds, or minutes, or an hour more, but finally the bedroom door clicks open and— “So you do know how to follow instructions,” Eddie says, the edge in his voice not quite sharp enough to cut but a warning nonetheless. “I was wondering.”

show your cards • 2.7k

“What was this tonight?” Buck rasps, his voice rough as sandpaper to his own ears. Eddie’s lips quirk as his eyes flick to somewhere just to the left of Buck’s ear like he can’t respond if he’s looking at Buck outright. “It was dinner, Buck,” he says. “Dinner and a poker game.” And Buck could leave it there. Honestly, he probably should leave it there, leave it alone, let it drop despite the fact that he can practically taste the lie in the air. But he’s too warm and his pulse is so fast that he’s dizzy with it and Eddie is so close that Buck can’t breathe so he can’t help himself— “Eddie.” His voice cracks. Eddie looks back at him, meets his gaze. Slowly, with more than enough time for Buck to move or to stop him, Eddie brings a hand up to curl around Buck’s shoulder, his thumb brushing Buck’s neck in a way that lights up every inch of his skin. “Tonight was whatever you want it to be,” Eddie corrects finally. “No more, no less.”

you make my heart beat • 1.9k

Eddie Diaz knows two things: 1) he's a great nurse; and 2) he does not fall for patients. After spending five months with Evan Buckley...well. Maybe that second one is a little more of an open question.

graveyard whistling (and why things hurt) • 3.2k

“Eddie?” Buck’s hand touches his shoulder and Eddie inhales sharply and comes back to himself. His eyes flick back to the phone—the screen now dimmed and black—then settle on the counter next to it as he swallows hard. “You okay?” Buck asks quietly. “She died today,” Eddie replies. “And I forgot. I forgot that it was today.”

only human, nothing more • 1.9k

It’s stupid maybe, but it feels a little like something happens in that chair. They cut away the softness and leave behind sharp regulation edges and it doesn’t stop Eddie from being afraid, but it...helps. Helps him pretend. Helps him fall into the role of someone who is responsible, someone who knows what they’re doing, someone who— Someone who is in control. (Stupid, maybe. Stupid, definitely, is what he settles on years later when he’s back from war, trapped in his own head and drowning on dry land, because regulation edges make him flinch when he looks in the mirror and he knows no haircut in the world is going to help him fake his way back to normalcy. So he just lets it grow again. It doesn’t matter anyway.) [Or: Eddie introspection through the seasons as explored through haircuts]

It’s 5.5 x 8.5 in. and 319 pages.

Of course, no money is being made off of this collection. Here's the evidence of that:

(For other 9-1-1 fic books, check out @tsoanatural's fic book tag here. For "Stuck on Fast Forward (Throw Away the Blueprint)" by @extasiswings, you can check out my post here.)

#evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 #playground love: tales from the engine (and beyond)#extasiswings #chapel my darling! <3

64 notes · View notes