#if anyone continues to get hate I will just counter with nice asks in their inboxes

[imagoddamnonionmason]

Can I say one thing?

Why do people have to comment on other people’s way of conducting themselves in a fandom? If there’s an aspect of a fandom that’s you’d rather not see/interact with, then appropriately blacklist, block or do whatever so you don’t see that content.

But DO NOT go to other people’s blogs, comment on their works or their art, or do anything that might ruin their day, undermine their confidence and hard work, or overall make them feel bad.

Yes. This is about oc x canon. Fuck, it’s even about self inserts.

If that’s how someone wishes to spend their time in a fandom because it brings them joy, LET THEM DO IT.

It does not hurt you.

It does not attack you.

You can do something really responsible and NOT INTERACT.

Aka. DON’T LIKE? DON’T READ/LOOK.

It really is that simple of a concept and I have never been more baffled that this is what fandoms have become like.

[neoheros]

“morning samu!”

the bells that hang by onigiri miya’s front door ring loudly as you enter the building, the sound of your voice accompanied with a chipper smile on your face as the early morning begins.

osamu barely looks up from the counter at your arrival, not needing to see you to know that it is you, and even if he is too busy fiddling with the register, he still smiles knowing that you’re here.

not that it would be anything special if you were, you were here practically everyday at this point, it might as well be part of osamu’s morning routine to welcome you in.

not that he minds — he’d never — but not that he’d tell you that, anyway.

“good morning.” he says to you, the smile on his face obvious now as you can hear it in his voice, but he still doesn’t look up from the register, too immersed in the work to tear himself away.

“seat yourself, will ya? bit busy here at the moment.”

you shrug off your coat from your shoulders as you hear him, nodding to yourself as you pick the table you like the most, and you call out, teasing, “alright but if you ask me to serve myself too, i’ll be expecting a paycheck from you.”

you slightly hear him chuckle a bit at that, too busy to respond, but you understand anyway considering the incoming morning rush.

knowing osamu, your closest friend for years, he must be knee deep in question marks as he tries to commandeer both the cashier and the kitchen by himself, too stubborn to hire anyone else, and way too confident to ask for any bit of help.

you’ll save the scoldings you have in mind for him later.

now, you’re preoccupied.

you pull the chair on your table out for your guest this morning, a small gesture of your hand to get him to seat across from you as you make yourself comfortable, and once all that’s settled, you hand him one of the menus to choose from.

the menu isn’t complicated at all — mainly the reason you took him here — and you’re sort-of proud of yourself for bringing him here in the first place.

after all, what better first date than the restaurant you already go to every single day?

your date gives you a smile, “so, you come here often?”

from the counter afar, there’s a sound of the register suddenly closing in on itself that can be heard loudly, a loud “clang!” echoing throughout the entire building.

osamu blinks, his attention suddenly torn away from the register in front of him, confusion settling in his face as his eyebrows furrow together, his languid smile dropping slowly and he looks up — finally.

from where he stands, the first person he sees is you, you’re laughing and smiling and you’re all dressed so nicely today that it almost makes him smile — but then he sees you’re talking to someone else, someone you brought here, someone across from you, and that doesn’t make him smile at all.

“yeah, it’s my favorite restaurant.” he hears you reply, the smile in your voice evident.

and as much as osamu just loves to hear how much you like his establishment, he’d rather you say it to him and not to anyone else.

there’s a bitter taste in his mouth. he feels like he just got the wind punched out of him as he continues to stare.

did you seriously bring a guy to his restaurant for a date?

“what can i get ya this mornin’?” there’s an obvious frown sitting on osamu’s face as he stands near your table, a pad of paper in his palm as his other hand holds a pen lazily.

it took him a lot of energy to force himself away from the counter and actually walk over to you and your … date, but he figured the more he ignored you, the more likely you were gonna come after him for not … well … doing his job.

“jeez. reign it in with the joy, please.” you tease, your morning spirits undeterred by his newfound persona of he-who-hates-all-things.

osamu sighs, dramatically, and he straightens up slightly to look at you more professionally now, “i’ve got the new flavors in this morning, they’re new and experimental so you get the chance— alright, what the hell is that?”

you look down to where his pointing, an exasperated look on his face as he gestures at the very bright object you brought with you today that was just distracting enough to bring him out of his spiel, and you smile even wider— proud.

“my shoes!” you nod with excitement, grabbing them from the paperbag on the floor as you take them out to show him.

“those are shoes?” his eyebrows furrow together tightly.

“well, i broke them, that’s why they look so clanky and the steel stuff ended up hanging outside the sole part, so i was planning on fixing it today during my break time at work.”

osamu looks at you, deadpanned, “they look like they could kill somebody.”

and you scoff, “so dramatic today.”

you sneak a peek over at the other side of the table to check on your date, and your smile remains when you see him still pre-occupied with the menu, browsing his options as he gives you a small smile while he listens to the conversation.

back to osamu now, he still looks frustrated at — well, you’re not really sure at what — and there’s a deep expression that settles on his face as he looks at you like you’ve just stolen his pen.

a second passes.

“hand them over.” he suddenly tells you, a big sigh coming from him as his shoulders fall with defeat.

you turn to him, “what?”

“hand over the shoes.”

“samu, i know they look bad, but that doesn’t mean you can take them from me!”

osamu breathes in very loudly as he stares at you, his frown impossibly getting deeper the more he stays here it seems, and with another swallow of possibly his last straw, he puts the pad down.

“give me the shoes so i can fix them, you idiot.” he tells you, his tone as quiet as he can make it, and he swears, if you had not been one of his closest friends, you’d been out of your seat five minutes ago.

you cross your arms over your chest, “you know how to fix shoes?”

and he scoffs, “i don’t, but i figure my chances are better than yours.”

your expression finally breaks into a small smile, defeated, yes, but you did get out of fixing your shoes yourself, which is a win in its own case, and a scenario only possible with osamu by your side.

“you win.” you throw your hands in the air, and show him a wide grin as you hand over the shoes, “thank you very much.”

osamu takes the shoes from you and puts it at the empty table behind him, begrudged, but amused, not like he wouldn’t do anything for you anyways.

your date leans over to you slowly — an action that makes osamu want to roll his eyes all the way to the back of his head.

he gives you a smile, “you get good service here.”

and you reply back, “i know the owner.”

osamu ignores the wink you give him, and he gives you an unamused look as you grin. he shakes his head to himself and grabs the pad of paper once again before clearing his throat.

“order?”

“i’ll have two of my usual orders, and then one of each of the new flavors to go.” you tell him, proud at not having to look at the menu anymore to know what you like.

you do come here every morning after all.

osamu gives you a short nod, listing down your request, and begrudgingly, he turns to the other person at the table, “and you?”

“i’m just not sure.” your date tells him, humming to himself as he picks up the menu again. “give me a second.”

the gray haired man gives you a look; almost 10 minutes with that menu and he still hasn’t decided?

you give him an apologetic look, “oh, then, i guess hold off on mine too.”

osamu shakes his head, sighing, “i might run out of the new ones.”

and your date looks up from the menu to give you a wanton smile, “go ahead, order, i’ll be fine.”

you shake your head, polite, “no, it’s okay, i’ll wait for you. take your time.”

osamu clears his throat. adamant. “i’m almost out and i can’t make more.”

you shoot him a look. “then set some aside for me.”

and he squints his eyes. “it’s first come, first serve.”

there’s a stark frown on your face now too. your eyebrows tightly knit as you shoot the man in front of you a hard glare.

you have no idea why he’s making this morning so hard on you for no reason at all, but you’re about to say something to his remark if it weren’t for the sudden ringing on the phone that interrupted the conversation.

“i’m sorry, i might have to go.” your date intervenes suddenly, the ringing of his phone going off as he stands up and grabs his things from the table.

you look at him expectantly, “you do?”

“yes, something came up,” he tells you, apologetic and giving you a sad smile. he leans down anyway to come squeeze your hand quickly, and he says, “i’ll call you?”

you give him a small nod, “sure.”

not that you can do anything else about it, you say your goodbyes, and suddenly, not even twenty minutes in to your first date with him, he’s off and leaving.

the bells on the door ring loudly as the door closes with a slam.

your head falls on the table once he’s gone.

“well.” you grumble. “that was a bust.”

osamu puts a hand on his hip as he watches you, “ya seriously cannot be hung up like this on the world’s slowest reader.”

you lift your head up slightly to roll your eyes at him, watching him with squinted eyes as he walks away and disappears into the kitchen.

obviously, you weren’t hung up on this stupid date. you didn’t want to go on this stupid date anyway!

dating sucks. and it sucks even more when it’s forced on you last minute by a work friend who you’re definitely not talking to outside of the work place anymore.

you grumble again at the thought.

great, and you were having such a good morning too.

you let your head fall back on the table.

a minute passes in your sulking mess before you hear the sound of a plate being pushed across the table breaks you from your world of wallowing.

“here.”

osamu looks at you from the side, his gaze much softer now as he keeps his hand on his hip, and he watches as your confused look when you see him falls on the playe in front of you.

your usual order, and the new ones to go.

you look up at him, “but i thought you didn’t ring my order in?”

and osamu, defeated, rolls his eyes slightly, but you don’t miss the way his lips curl upwards even just a tiny bit.

you come in here every single day, every single morning, and order the same exact thing. rain or shine, he can also expect to greet you in as you come in those doors and greet him with that big smile you never fail to give him.

he can’t help it, it’s part of his routine now too.

atsumu keeps pestering him on hiring somebody to man the front desk so he can lessen his work load, but that would mean what? give up the chance to see you come in everyday? give up the way you say his name when you say good morning? give up your smile and your laugh and the way you tease and mock and tarry?

you’re the best part of his mornings working here, even when you’re with somebody else, you’re still the person he looks most forward to seeing every single day.

he rolls his eyes but you see him smile anyway.

“i already set these aside before you came in anyway.”

[madebycloud]

pt 4 | Not Even at All

jinx/powder x female reader — 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬⠀𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: vi is off limits until her sister gets a date that doesn't end within the first ten minutes. eager to date vi, a certain girl approaches you with a proposal. date jinx. win her over. and for your efforts, she's willing to be generous. (10 Things I Hate About You AU) warnings/themes: fluff (eh maybe?) and angst, kinda enemies to what, one sided fake dating, highschool, modern au, prom, kat!jinx, patrick!reader words: 4.7k notes: we're so close… — ✩ part one, part two, part three, part four, part five

Jinx leans over the bathroom sink, applying a moisturizer to her face. She pauses at the sound of someone at the door.

Vi taps on the open bathroom door and smiles at her sister. “Nice haircut,” Vi remarks.

Jinx glances at her from the mirror's reflection, giving her a side-eye.

“What, not gonna say hi?”

Jinx sighs, setting the bottle down on the sink. 

Vi lingers in the doorway, looking at Jinx, who's doing her skincare routine. She waits until Jinx shuts the bottle before speaking. “You goin' to the prom?”

“Why do you care?”

“I'm just asking a question. So, are you going or-”

Before Vi can even finish her sentence, Jinx reaches out a hand and slams the bathroom door shut inches from her face, nearly closing it on her nose.

—

Jinx lays flat on her bed, her headphones over her ears and music playing.

Vi knocks on the door and opens it, peeking inside. “Hey, you-”

“No, Vi,” Jinx cuts her off before she can get a word out. She takes off the headphones and sits up. “I'm not going to prom.”

Vi steps into the room fully, shutting the door behind her. “Why not?” she asks, walking over to her bed.

Jinx leans back against the pillows. “It's stupid.” 

Vi sits down on the edge of the bed. “Is that all you've got?” she teases, shoving Jinx's knee.

Jinx slaps her arm away. “I don't want to go, okay? It's lame.”

“It's not lame,” Vi retorts, raising an eyebrow. “It's senior prom. You can't just skip it.”

“Watch me.”

“Why are you being so difficult?”

“Why is everyone so obsessed with me going to some dumb dance?”

“Prom is not that bad,” Vi counters. “Besides, it's your senior year. You're supposed to go.”

Jinx scoffs. “Supposed to? Who says I'm supposed to go? I have a right to choose what I want to do.”

“Yeah, but-” Vi stops herself, thinking carefully about her phrasing. “Have you really not found anyone to go with? no one has asked you?”

Jinx pauses, pulling a pillow from behind her back and bringing it to her chest. She hugs it tightly. “I mean, yeah, well… someone did,” she mumbles, staring at one of her many punk band posters.

Vi chuckles, flashing a grin at Jinx.

Jinx glares at her, narrowing her eyes. “Shut up,” she huffs, throwing the pillow at her face.

Vi catches the pillow with one hand and holds her other hand up. “Hey, hey, I didn't say anything!” 

“Yeah, you were thinking about it.”

“Maybe,” Vi replies with a shrug. “Maybe not.” She grins innocently as Jinx continues to scowl at her. “Why did you turn her down anyway?” Vi asks, tossing the pillow back at her.

Jinx catches the pillow before it hits her face, clutching it to her chest. “I told you already, prom is stupid,” she says, pulling the blankets up tighter around herself.

“Yeah, yeah, I know that.” Vi plops down on the bed next to Jinx, who gives her a glare.

Jinx grumbles. “Then why are we having this discussion?” 

“Because you keep avoiding the question,” Vi replies, nudging Jinx's shoulder.

“I'm not avoiding the question,” Jinx retorts, sinking deeper into the blankets. “I already gave you an answer.”

“That's not a real answer,” Vi says, poking Jinx’s shoulder again.

“Yes, it is.” 

“Saying prom is dumb isn't a real answer.”

Jinx buries herself deeper into the blankets.

Vi sighs and scoots closer to her. “C'mon, Pow, you can tell me,” she says, reaching out to touch Jinx’s shoulder.

Jinx glares at her from beneath the blankets. 

But Vi doesn't relent. She reaches out and yanks the blankets back, revealing Jinx's face. “You've always loved dressing up, even when you were little.”

Jinx bites her lip, looking away.

“And you've always loved dancing and music,” Vi continues. “So why turn down the perfect opportunity?”

“I just…” Jinx murmurs. “No one... nobody asked me to prom for the last few years. And then, suddenly, someone asked me in my last year… it's weird.” She looks up at Vi. “I don't know, maybe she's up to something?”

“Powder…”

“Don't call me that,” Jinx snaps.

“Why not? That's your name.”

“Was my name,”

“Still is your name,” Vi insists.

Jinx grunts but doesn't protest further.

“Powder,” she repeats.“Do you like her?”

Jinx fidgets with the edges of the blanket, her fingers twisting and tugging at the fabric. “I don't know,” she mumbles. “Maybe?”

Vi grins, sensing weakness. “You're blushing.”

“No, I'm not,” Jinx protests, but her flushed cheeks say otherwise.

“You're blushing because you like her,” Vi singsongs.

“Shut up, no, I'm not,” Jinx snaps, punching Vi in the arm. “I'm just… frustrated!”

Vi laughs, rubbing the spot where Jinx hit her. “You're frustrated that you like her.”

“Ugh, you're a dick,” Jinx groans, burying her head in a pillow.

“Look, Pow—Jinx, I just want you to be happy.”

Jinx lifts her head up just enough to look at her sister. “I am happy.”

“You know what I mean. You deserve to have fun. Go to prom, enjoy yourself-”

“Stop it,” Jinx interjects. “You sound like Dad.”

Vi laughs. “Maybe I just want you to take advantage of your last year of high school. Have a good time, make some memories. I mean, you're going to be an adult soon. Time's moving fast.”

“Ugh, now you sound like an old person.”

“I'm not that old.”

“You're going to be twenty-five,” Jinx sits up, wrinkling her nose.

“Exactly. Not old.”

“Debatable.”

They both laugh, and Jinx rolls her eyes.

“So anyway,” Vi starts, grinning. “You gonna reconsider going to prom? Just give it some thought.”

“Fine,” Jinx groans, flopping backward onto the bed. “Fine, I'll go. Can I sleep now?”

—

The second you see Jinx's name flash across the screen, you snatch your phone off the table and answer it on the first ring.

“Hey,” you say, breathless.

There's an awkwardly long silence on her end.

You frown, wondering if she's accidentally butt-dialed you or something. Are you going to have to listen to her fart noises until she notices?

Just as you're about to call out her name, she suddenly greets you back. “Um, hey,” she mumbles. “Sorry. I was... surprised you picked up so fast.”

Okay, she's not going to start farting then. “Well, I wasn't sure you'd call me after... you know.”

“Yeah, about that. I wanted to say sorry.”

“You don't have to apologize,” you reassure. “I was being pushy and an ass. I shouldn't have pushed you so much.”

“Maybe,” she concedes. “But I didn't need to be so, uh, hostile."

Silence again.

“Anyway, that's not why I called,” she continues, changing the topic.

You adjust the phone against your ear. “Okay then,” you reply with a nervous chuckle. “Why did you call?”

“I was thinking, if…” she trails off, mumbling the rest of her sentence.

“What?” you ask loudly. “I can't hear you.”

“Iwasjustwonderingiftheoffertopromisstillup,” she says, words rushing and tumbling over each other.

Hang on.

Huh?

After what happened, you weren’t sure she'd still want to go with you.

“Yeah-” you reply. “I mean, why wouldn't it be up?”

“I don't know. I just thought maybe you'd have asked someone else to go with you.” 

“No, I hadn't asked anyone else,” you assure her. “I didn't want to go with anyone else… just you.”

She's quiet for maybe one, maybe two or three seconds before replying.

“Oh.”

Oh?

Just ‘oh’.

What were you supposed to do with ‘oh’ as a response?

“So then... you want to go to prom with me? or... was that a hypothetical question?” you ask.

“No, I-” she pauses, groaning. “Yeah, I mean, yes. I do want to go to prom with you.”

You bite your tongue to keep yourself from smiling. “Cool... cool, cool, cool.”

“Yeah, cool.”

Another long, awkward silence.

Do you say goodbye? Do you ask her a question? 

“Well,” you mumble, “I guess I'll see you on the-“

“No!” she suddenly blurts out.

“No?” you repeat, raising your eyebrows. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“Wait, no. I didn't mean ‘no’ as in like, ‘no don’t see me at prom,’” she explains, tripping over her words. “Like I still want you to see me.”

“Yeah… I kind of got that.” 

“I meant, like, don't hang up the phone.”

“Why?”

“Just… don't,” she says. “Can you just… stay on the line for a while longer?”

Stay on the line.

Why does she want you to—oh. Ooooh…

“Oh.”

Now you are the one who can only say ‘oh’.

“Yeah, I can stay on the line for a while.”

“Really?” she pipes up.

“Yeah, really,” you repeat, flopping onto your back and propping your head up on your pillow. “So…?”

“Soooo… what's your favorite color..?”

—

A band that does not ‘suck’ by definition and more ‘bearable’ manages to please the audience with a surprisingly decent performance. You can hear them all the way out near the entrance to the prom.

You check yourself a third time for any wrinkles on your outfit and fix your hair to make sure it’s good to go.

With nothing else to do, you grab a fake rose from a nearby vase and spin it in your fingers.

You take a look around, waiting and-

She's here.

Jinx walks up the stairs, wearing a black dress that looks like it's made of satin. She's also wearing heels, giving her a couple extra inches of height. And is it just you, or does that dress also have a slit going all the way up her thigh?

Holy, shitting balls. You're already feeling lightheaded.

She walks past you without noticing you, and you step right behind her, clearing your throat. “Wow,” you say loudly when she's close enough.

Jinx turns around at the sound of your voice, meeting your eyes. She glances you up and down. “You too.”

You try not to have your eyes lingering over the exposed skin of her legs. “You look really good. I like the dress.”

“Yeah?” She looks down at the dress clinging to her curves. “I wasn't sure. Vi was telling me I might be showing too much skin, but I don't know.”

You clear your head and force your eyes up to her face. “Well, I for one, think it looks amazing.”

Jinx raises an eyebrow. “Oh, do you?”

“Yeah, I mean it.” You stick out the fake flower you've been holding this whole time. “You're beautiful.”

Jinx looks at the rose.

She looks at you.

She looks at your rose again.

Then she takes it and twirls it in her fingers. “Mmm, how romantic,” she says, hiding her face with the flower.

Oh god, hearing that in her voice does things to you.

“You ready?” she asks.

You take another look at her face and that dress, and you know for a fact you aren't ready... at all. “I'm ready.” You hold out your arm.

Jinx links her arm with yours, squeezing your arm before both of you begin walking together. “Where'd you get that at the last minute?” she asks, glancing over your outfit.

“Just something I had, you know, lying around.” You shrug. You return the favor, looking at her dress as well. “Where'd you get that at the last minute?”

“Just something I had, you know, lying around,” she repeats, copying your tone.

The two of you share a laugh, and Jinx lets go of the grip on your arm. You approach the booth where other students are taking pictures together.

“Listen,” she starts, hesitating for a few seconds. “I really am... sorry that I questioned your motives. I was wrong.”

You wince internally. It hurts you that she's apologizing for something you can't be honest about. She didn't do anything wrong, and here she is, apologizing.

You force a smile, hiding the guilt that's eating you up. “You're forgiven.”

You want to tell her the truth. You feel the words threatening to spill from your lips. To spill the beans and tell her this was all bullshit. But now's not the time. If you confessed now, you would only ruin the evening for both of you.

Well, there's no point in dwelling on it. The problem's already sorted out anyway.

The smile you force is enough to fool her. For now. Jinx just nods, pleased. “Okay,” she says, releasing a breath. “Ready for the prom?”

“Yes ma'am,” you respond, holding out your arm again.

—

The band wraps up their song, and everyone claps their hands loudly.

You turn to Jinx, joining her with applause. She raises an eyebrow, and you raise one back at her. 

A new song starts, and Jinx immediately recognizes the opening notes, her hand flies over her mouth. “Ohmygod it's-” Letters to Cleo.

“I called in a favor!” you reply, giving her a wink.

“For real?!”

You nod. “Just for you.”

The lead singer of the band makes her way to the center of the stage and glances around, her eyes finding Jinx. The two lock eyes, and the lead singer smiles.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” she gushes.

The lead singer approaches Jinx, a microphone in hand, and begins singing to her. Everyone around moves to get out of the way. “Oh, I can't take another heartache. Though you say you're my friend, I'm at my wits end.”

Jinx doesn't blink, barely moves, and her mouth opens in shock.

The lead singer continues singing. “You say your is bonified, but that don't coinside.” The singer winks at the both of you and returns to the stage.

Jinx slowly turns to you, mouth open to say something. But you cut off her words with a kiss.

You pull away, and she whispers, “Thank you.”

You take her hands in yours, her head finding a spot against your shoulder. She holds you close, arms encircling your shoulders, her nose nuzzling your neck.

The two of you begin dancing as the lead singer continues with the song.

You reach up, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear before moving to rest your hand on her waist.

Jinx hums. She lifts her head, her eyes meeting yours. But she looks away quickly, burying her face back into your neck again. She says something, but her words are swallowed by the music.

You lean in closer to her to hear her words again. But she just shakes her head, burying her face deeper into the crook of your neck.

“What's that?” you tease, “Couldn't quite catch what you said.”

She lifts her head again, pulling away just enough to look at you. Her cheeks are dusted pink, and she looks at you with nervous eyes. “I… I said… I…” She's having a hard time getting the words out, like she's not used to saying it. Or even thinking it. “I said, you shouldn't hold me so tight.”

You chuckle, loosening the tight grip you had round her middle. “Sorry.”

She shakes her head quickly. “No, no, no, I-” she stammers. “I didn't mean it like that... I-I… because-” She stops, not meeting your gaze. Her eyes dart around, avoiding eye contact.

Until-

“Because I-” She swallows, taking a deep breath. “Because I can't breathe.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Jinx continues before you can say anything. “When I'm close to you... like this,” she starts, her hand moving to her chest. Her fingertips press on her collarbone, her palm over her heart.

Your eyes flicker down before meeting hers.

“My heart…” She swallows again, glancing down at her hand. “My heart's beating so fast,” she admits. She pulls her hand away and looks up at you. “I can't breathe.”

The dance continues on, the music still playing.

Her hand reaches up, fingers finding the nape of your neck. “It's because of... you,” she says. “It's because of you.”

You felt it too.

You feel your own heart racing in your chest. Your ears are ringing, all the background noise feels distant. Your face feels hot. You feel like the world is spinning. Your palms feel sweaty all of a sudden, like they've never started sweating before.

You feel it—your heart, swelling, growing bigger and bigger against your ribcage. The beat pounding hard until it's all you can hear.

Holy shit, she is genuinely trying to give you a heart attack.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” she mumbles, her words breaking through your thoughts. “Forget I said anything. I didn-"

“I can't breathe,” you interrupt, speaking without thinking. “...I can't breathe either.”

Jinx's fingers stop caressing the back of your neck, and she stills in your arms. Her eyes widen as she stares at you. But then a smile slowly curves her lips. She rests her chin back on your shoulder, her hand moving down from your neck to wrap around your shoulders.

“I didn't think it was possible,” she says. “I never thought I'd feel this way,” she continues, her arm tightening around your shoulders. “About anyone. About anything.”

You turn your head to the side, your nose brushing on the shell of her ear. “What changed?"

“You did.”

You say nothing, your brain still trying to understand what she's saying and what the hell you're feeling. It's too much to process.

But that's okay. Because Jinx continues.

“This... this feeling. It's… It's new. Different. It's like...” She trails off, her hand resting on the space between your shoulder blades as she rubs soothing circles into your back. “No one's ever been this close to me. It's like I've been running away my whole life, and you just... somehow you managed to stand still long enough for me to finally run to you.”

Your heart stutters again, the pace picking up once more. If it hadn't been for her arm around you, you would've fallen over from how weak and trembling your knees felt.

She lifts her head from your shoulder, and you follow her lead.

Slowly, cautiously, she reaches up to rest her palm on the side of your neck, pressing her thumb just under your chin. Her thumb sweeps over your jawline as she holds your gaze.

“You're the only one who's ever made me want to stay.”

Something in your chest clenches so hard, and it feels hard to breathe all over again and again. She says it with such certainty that there's no way you could dismiss it as anything less than the truth.

Her other hand, which was around your shoulder, drops to your chest. She can probably feel how hard your heart is beating—how out of control it is.

She looks down at her hand, watching it rise and fall with every thump of your heart. Her fingers flex around the fabric, and you catch the twitch of a smile on her lips. “Looks like we're both doomed,” she says. “Doomed to not be able to breathe while we're together.”

“I don't mind it.”

“Yeah… me neither.”

“You just might kill me,” you tease. “What did you say about not holding you tight again?”

“Shut up.”

—

The two of you continue to dance, twirling and spinning and laughing.

It might not look like it, but you practiced your ass off to get all these moves down correctly. You know you looked like a complete idiot the last time she saw you dance, so you took the time and effort to learn some moves. You wanted to give Jinx the night of her life.

You pull her away, only to spin her around and pull her close again. She giggles as she spins, her hand still in yours.

Jinx stumbles when she comes back around to face you. Her other hand catches itself on your shoulder to steady her. You hold her close, one of your arms wrapped around her waist, the other still holding her hand.

“My grandmother's.”

Jinx looks at you strangely. “Huh?”

“That's where I was last year. My grandma was lonely, so I moved in with her. I wasn't in jail, know Marilyn Manson, or slept with a Spice Girl. I spent the last year watching Wheel of Fortune with my grandma,” you say, not letting go of Jinx in your grasp as you dip her down. “End of story.”

“Awww,” she coos as you raise her back up. “That's adorable!”

“I know, I'm a saint,” you tease. “I'm such a great grandchild.” You grin, and the two of you continue dancing.

The room spins as you spin her around. Dizziness creeps up on you when you both come to a stop, but the sound of Jinx's giggle makes it go away.

“Well, I had a different name,” she tells you.

“Oh yeah?” you reply, not letting go of her.

“Yeah, I used to go by the name Powder.”

“Powder,” you repeat.

Jinx nods as the two of you continue dancing. “Yeah, Powder... It was stupid,” she adds with a chuckle. “I went by that at my old school.”

You try to push the name out of your thoughts for now, not wanting to ruin the night. Jinx spins around again, and you hold her close, dipping her again. She squeals as she goes upside down, then laughs when she's raised again.

You hear the sound of your phone's ringtone, but you don't budge. Nah, you just ignore it.

Rinnngg

The call goes to voicemail.

Rinnnggg

Again. Whoever's calling is definitely being persistent.

Rinnnnnggg

…and again. And this time, you actually stop dancing and check the call.

Caitlyn.

You pull away from her, reluctantly letting go of her hands. She lets you go, but with a scowl directed at your phone.

“Ugh... I gotta take this. Sorry,” you grumble.

“It's fine,” she replies. “Be quick.”

You begin searching for a place where the signal is better, somewhere where the call won’t have to be repeated or sound like a shitty recording.

—

You step into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. Weirdly enough, the bathroom is empty. Considering how many people are at the prom, you thought there'd be couples making out or at least a few girls fixing their makeup, but nope. Nothing.

At least it's quiet now, and the signal is good too.

You answer the call, holding the phone to your ear. “You know you've just interrupted-”

“THANKTHANKTHANKTHANKYOU!!” she cuts you off, squealing on the other line. What the hell?

You hold your phone away from your ear, just in case her next words are ear-piercingly loud. “Uh... You're welcome?”

“VI. AND—AND I! ARE. OFFICIALLY. TOGETHER!!”

She's going to give you tinnitus from how loud she is. “...congrats?”

“ALL THANKS TO YOU.”

Oh. Right. That.

“I asked her out again and—and—and she said yes! YES!!” she shrieks.

Caitlyn's overjoyed. But to be honest?

You aren't.

You could be out there, dancing and having a good time with Jinx. Instead, you're stuck in the quiet bathroom being deafened by your friend's squeals.

—

After a while. Jinx looks around, watching the other students continue their dancing. 

Lux is having the time of her life with her dance partner, while Ekko's talking with someone standing beside the table. A few of the guys are eyeing her, but with a quick glance in their direction, they immediately look away.

You still aren't around.

She groans, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She looks around again before making her choice. Bathroom break.

—

Caitlyn continues gushing on the other end of the line, gushing about how perfect Vi is and how wonderful she is. It's not exactly news to you, you've heard this all before.

You sigh, rubbing your face. “Listen, Cait-”

She continues on and on, not hearing you at first.

“LISTEN.”

She finally stops talking, going quiet.

You take the chance to speak. “Can we just forget the deal? can we just forget that you paid me to date Jinx? I mean, you got your happy ending. You asked Vi out again, and she said yes. Case closed, right?”

“What?”

You turn around to face-

“Jinx.”

You freeze. You suddenly feel so cold.

Jinx. Standing right in front of you. There's an odd look in her eyes, like she doesn't recognize you. Like she's completely lost herself.

“You…” Her hands tremble as they slowly clench by her sides. “Nothing in it for you, huh?” She didn't wait for a response, turning on her heel and storming out the bathroom door.

You watch her leave, still in shock.

No, no, no, no, no.

NO.

She heard you. She heard everything.

You hang up the call with Caitlyn. You quickly scramble to your feet, tearing open the bathroom door. “Jinx!”

Despite how short she is, Jinx can move fast. And you've got a ton of ground to cover.

“Jinx—wait!”

She heads for the stairs, and you give chase. She's running fast, but eventually you catch up with her at the top, grabbing her arm and pulling her to a stop.

“Jinx—just please, please, let me explain.”

Your heart sinks as she continues to look at you like you're some stranger, someone she doesn't know. You feel like you're going to be sick.

You hold her arm tighter. “No, it's—please, just wai-”

Jinx yanks her arm out of your hands, pushing you away. “How much did she pay you? Fifty? One hundred!?”  

You stumble backwards. “Jinx, just let me-” you protest. You try to explain, but each word seems to come out wrong. Or they never come out at all.

She storms off again, but this time you're just quick enough to catch up with her. You grab her shoulder, forcing her to look at you. “Wait, wait—it wasn't like tha-”

She scowls, ripping her shoulder away from your grasp. ”Oh, really?” she snaps. “What the hell was it like? a down payment now, and a bonus if I slept with you?”

The look of hurt on her face nearly stops your heart. You never intended that. That was never what you wanted for her. “NO!” you yell. “I didn't care about the money, okay? I cared-” You cut yourself off, pausing to catch your breath. “I cared about you.”

Your hands twitch, wanting to reach out and grab her, to hold her and tell her that you're sorry, you're so sorry, you never wanted to ever hurt her. You cared about her. You cared about her so much.

But you're just so scared to touch her, to look at her. She's hurting. She's so angry at you.

And yet, you do it anyway and reach for her again. “Jinx, please-”

“Don't touch me.”

It hurts.

God, it hurts.

You slowly lower your hand back down to your side, but you still can't take your eyes off her.

Every word she says. Every second that goes by. Every minute. It feels like your heart is going to stop and die in your chest.

Keep talking. Talk some sense into her. But the look on her face tells you that she's already made up her mind. It's done.

Tears glisten in her eyes, but she holds them back, clenching her jaw. “You are not who I thought you were.”

Your mind races, desperate and searching for a way to fix this mess. You reach out, grabbing her by the elbow and pulling her into a hug.

This always worked in the movies. A single, simple action. A single, simple embrace. A single, simple hug.

Except this is reality.

Reality sucks.

But you can hope, can't you?

A tear slides down her cheek and lands on your shoulder. She shoves you away aggressively, and even though you want to pull her against you again, you don't.

With that, she turns and runs outside. She doesn't look back or stop.

She's gone. You're left alone.

She's gone.

Those words ring in your head, over and over again. She's gone.

You can't move.

You can't think.

Your eyes sting, and tears blur your vision. 

This whole time, this entire… everything you had done, everything.

Maybe if you'd said something sooner, maybe if you hadn't taken the money in the first place, maybe if you'd just been better about saying no.

None of that matters now. You've lost her.

All thanks to you. 

notes: caitlyn when i catch you

taglist: @axolotl-arsonist, @crvcified-kinx, @axoluxy, @dyslexic-dreamer, @urdeadpoet, @iluvshifting, @shootingc, @freementallyillkid, @tr3nzit444s, @powderbomb-jinxed, @chickennuggetsaresootasty, @multiliker, @rick-grimes-girl, @angelsglitch, @blobfishyy

[fastandcarlos]

Accept My Help, Love : ̗̀➛ Ollie Bearman

summary: the last thing your stubborn self needed was an injury, particularly when letting people in to help is a trickier job then it should've been

Your soft eyes looked at Ollie, with your arm wrapped in cast the most mundane jobs were suddenly your biggest challenges. In the Haas hospitality you stood, your plate of food ready to be eaten, but your hands unable to carry. 

With Ollie talking to many of his future team members around him, you found yourself at a crossroads. The table you had wasn’t too far away, and with the strength in your arm getting better day after day, you were sure it was about time to challenge yourself a little more, placing your hands on the hot plate, making sure that your grip was nice and tight on it. 

Usually Ollie was there to help you with most things, but with his career skyrocketing you didn’t have the heart to disturb. As you lifted the plate up, you were feeling pretty confident, surprised by how easy the weight was to carry. However, as you took your first step, your confidence quickly plummeted. 

Before you knew it the plate slipped out of your hands and banged against the counter. The vibrations were loud across the hospitality lounge with several pairs of eyes darting in your direction. 

“Babe?” Ollie questioned, one of those to quickly spin around and see what was going on. 

You weakly smiled across at Ollie as his eyes looked around, piecing together what was going on. “Don’t say it,” you sighed, your shoulders dropping. 

Ollie was used to you pushing yourself, asking for help was a job that you found particularly difficult, especially now that you had your injury too. All Ollie wanted to do was help you with your recovery, and remind you of just how capable your body currently was. 

“Why didn’t you ask me to get it for you?” He asked, picking the plate up, leading you over to your table. 

You hung back behind him, your steps slow and lazy as people slowly started to look away from you too. With a huff you dropped down into your seat, allowing Ollie to place the food in front of you before sitting opposite you. 

“What were you thinking?” He questioned, keeping his eyes firmly on you. 

Your expression was blank, the frustration was clear. By now you had hoped that you would be back to your usual self, hating the fact that you had to constantly rely on other people to get you through day to day. 

“I just wanted to try,” you defended, “I should be able to carry my own plate by now, shouldn’t I? This is where you work, you shouldn’t be spending your day running around after me.” 

Ollie’s hand reached across the table, taking a hold of your own and squeezing it gently. If anyone knew how hard this was for you, it was him. Accepting help wasn’t easy at the best of times, but now it felt as if everyone offered their help out of pity rather than concern. 

“I’m fed-up Ollie, this is ridiculous.” 

Your eyes stared down at the cast around your left forearm, doodles up and down the plaster that some of your closest friends had added to it as reminders to cheer you up whenever you were feeling down. As always, they were particularly drawn to what Ollie had doodled, the biggest heart he could fit on it that he knew you’d adore. 

Your other hand brushed through your hair as you let go of a sigh, “I just want to be me again Ollie, I don’t recognise who I am right now.” 

Ollie nodded understandingly, brushing the pad of his thumb over the back of your hand. “I get it, I’ve had injuries too when I’ve had to count on other people to get me by. But people do genuinely want to help you love.” 

You slowly turned your head up, allowing yourself to see the concern in Ollie’s eyes. “I don’t like the fact that you’re constantly having to put yourself out for me, you can barely sit still because you’re looking around and worrying about me.” 

Ollie continued to hold tightly onto your hand reassuringly, “that’s because I choose to do that, because I care and want to be there for you, whether you’re injured or not.” 

You smiled weakly, feeling tears threaten to spill as a wave of emotion washed over you. “I just want this to end, to rip this stupid cast off now.” 

A faint chuckle came from Ollie, since the day of your incident he had seen firsthand how frustrated you were, particularly as your injury wasn’t your fault to begin with. His heart broke when the doctor told you how serious the fracture was, the recovery period longer than you could’ve ever imagined. 

It was never going to be easy but at the start, you were positive. However, the longer your arm took to fix, the less positive you were. Your negativity had taken Ollie by surprise, he’d never seen you so low, at times wondering if he was the right person to be able to pick you back up. 

He too wanted to rip your cast off, but only when your body was ready for it to be done. “You know, I’m worried about what you’re going to be like when your cast comes off, because you’re going to be so much stronger, and tougher, if people are scared of you now, they should see you with a freshly healed arm.” 

“Do you really not mind helping me out?” You asked Ollie. 

His head shook straight away, without even having to think. “I’m always going to be there for you, injured or not. There are people around you who really do care sweetheart, it’s not embarrassing to ask them for help.” 

“Thank you,” you smiled, watching as Ollie lifted your hand and pressed a kiss against the back of it. “I don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes.” 

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Ollie smiled, “you forget how amazing you are sometimes.” 

“You think so?” 

“I know so.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 5: A COCKFIGHT FULL OF PRICKS

synopsis: you stick around valentine and get in a fight. you have an honest (and admittedly one-sided) talk with arthur.

word count: 3.3k

ships: Arthur Morgan/Modern!Reader, Van der Linde Gang & Reader

notes: the arthur morgan inside my head is so mean and urges me to write horrible things

TOSoA taglist: @one-green-frog , @photo1030 , @mavenhavenn , @its-yummi , @fatherbangboo , @shackspossum , @swedesfics , @literallyrousseau , @xprloki , @pedifero (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask <3!!)

THE OLD SOUL OF AMERICA MASTERLIST

When you agreed to hang out with Charles and Javier, you thought it’d be a bit… calmer than this. Sure, you said you’d had enough of Valentine, but the offer to hang somewhere away from camp was like a siren’s call. An excuse to get out from under Grimshaw’s thumb was very tempting indeed.

But, still. The company is nice and the women are pretty. Combined with the (admittedly, small amount) of alcohol in your system, one of the women running a finger along your jaw was enough for you to almost giggle yourself into a grave. The saloon isn’t exactly a calm environment, but it’s nice.

Until Arthur shows up. He’s back from dealing with the guy from Blackwater, you guess.

“Oh, Arthur! Arthur, c’mere, c’mere.” Javier pulls away from one of the women – Anastasia. “Come over here, I want you to meet our friends.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Arthur says. It’s very clear he’s not pleased at all.

Anastasia looks him over once, leaning back against the bartop. “Well, ain’t you just a tough-as-teak mountain man?”

“Oh, you be quiet, Anastasia,” the other woman, Yasmine, says. “Anyone can tell this one is a pussy cat.”

“Exactly – yes, he’s a pussy… cat,” Javier says. (The way he’s almost falling over himself to impress the ladies makes you laugh.) “Ain’t that so, Arthur?”

“Whatever you say,” Arthur says. He looks the women over. “How much you cost, anyway?”

“Arthur,” you scold. His name slips out before you can put a proper filter on yourself and stop.

“Well, ain’t that a nice way to talk to a lady?” Anastasia says.

Arthur checks her up-and-down again in an exaggerated way. “Oh, I didn’t know I was talking to a lady.”

“Excuse me,” she spits. She pulls away from Javier, Yasmine in tow.

You sigh and watch them leave. You know what they were hoping for and working towards and that this is an unfortunate line of work that they’ve found themselves in, but their company was still nice. Being flirted with and touched and appreciated was still nice.

“Well, I must say,” Javier says, “you got a fine way with the women, amigo.”

Arthur steps up to the bartop next to Charles and takes one of the shots that’s littered on the counter. He knocks it back after mumbling “Yeah, a regular dandy and charmer.” He then continues: “Where’s Bill?”

“Oh, man,” Javier says. “I dread to think about it.”

You check over your shoulder just to look and see Bill coming through the batwing doors. You pat Charles’ forearm and point. “Hey, there he is.”

You and the others watch as Bill knocks into another man. He throws his arms up with a shout of “Hey, watch where you’re goin’!” He shoves the other man, and the other man backs away.

“He about to kiss that guy or punch him?” Arthur says.

Bill shoves the man harder and he falls into a table. Everyone flies out of their chairs and suddenly you’re much more sober.

“Oh!” Javier whoops. “And we have our answer!”

You’ve been in this situation before. And you hate that it’s a good excuse to get violent.

Instinct takes over and you grab what’s nearest to you – a chair. You turn and swing, cracking it over some guy’s back. It fractures and splinters. He doesn’t get up.

Something hits the back of your head and you’re dizzy. You turn back around. A man is shaking his hand. He didn’t expect punching the literal bone of your skull to hurt so much.

The splintered back of the chair is still in your hands. You swing it and it makes contact with his face. Spit flies from his mouth and you hit him again. Again, again.

You feel something touch your back and donkey kick backwards. Someone grabs your leg and pulls. You cry out and fall to the floor. Your front slams against wood.

You check over your shoulder. There’s a man above you, still holding your leg. You kick your free foot forward right into his crotch. He wheezes and collapses.

You scramble up and see three men crowding Bill into a corner. Without much thought, you latch onto the back of one of the men, pulling him away. You put your arm around his neck and squeeze.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” You growl through your teeth, high on adrenaline. You squeeze harder. “Yeah!”

He claws at the arm around his neck. He flails one of his arms behind him. He nails you in the liver, causing all your breath to leave you in a wheeze.

You stumble back just as someone comes thundering down the stairs at the back of the saloon. You gasp and cough as you turn to look.

The man that’s coming down shouts, “What the hell’s goin’ on down here?”

“No, Tommy,” the barkeep yells. “Stay outta this!”

Holy shit, you think to yourself as you take Tommy in. I can’t handle Tommy. I don’t think anybody can handle Tommy.

Javier seems to take your inward thinking as a challenge. He approaches Tommy and is immediately thrown onto a table and pummeled. Arthur punches Tommy in the back of the head and frees Javier.

“You good, Javier?” You call. 

“I’m fine!” He says.

A man grabs you from behind and bends you over, trapping you in a headlock. You flail your arm and grab blindly for his face. Your hand makes contact with something and you dig your nails in. Your finger pushes into something softer than bone – you press and curl your finger in. He cries out. You’re free.

You turn, panting. The man that trapped you is cradling his face. Blood runs down his cheek in a steady stream. You don’t care.

You check over your shoulder in time to see Arthur grapple Tommy. He throws Arthur over a table. Before Arthur can recover, he picks Arthur up and tosses him through a window.

You slam through the batwing doors and out into the rain. Other people are pouring out of buildings to watch the fight.

Arthur is stumbling to his feet, covered in mud. A nasty-looking bruise is already forming on one of his cheeks. Tommy is quick to follow him and continue the fight.

Bill, Charles and Javier come to stand beside you on the saloon porch and watch them fight. It’s quickly devolved into cheap shots and them just whaling on each other when the opportunity arises.

“You okay there, Arthur?” Charles calls.

“Yeah,” Arthur growls. “I got this son of a bitch.”

Arthur blocks a hit from Tommy with his forearms. You can hear the meaty sound the impact makes and cringe.

Locals are cheering: “Knock his head off, Tommy!” “Kick his teeth in!” and other things you’d hear in a crowd surrounding a fight. You decide to tip in.

“Get his ass, Arthur!” You cheer. “Closed casket funeral!”

“Yeah!” Javier yells. “Kick his ass!”

You glance over at Javier and smile. It’s nice to have camaraderie, even if that ‘camaraderie’ is being on the same side while watching what is, essentially, a cockfight. (Even if the two men in the cockfight are built more like bulls.)

Tommy throws Arthur into the ground. He gets on top of Arthur and starts bringing his fists down as hard and as quick as he can.

“No, c’mon, Arthur!” You shout. “Get up! Get him!”

Arthur grabs the sides of Tommy’s neck and grapples him. They hit and slap at each other, but Arthur eventually wins out. He gets on top of Tommy and starts returning the favor – hitting him like his life is on the line. (Hell, it may be.)

“Stop!” A voice from the crowd erupts. “Stop! Please!”

A man emerges from the small sea of people. He rushes forward, putting his hands on Arthur’s shoulders and pushing him away from Tommy.

“Please, I beg you,” he says. “Come, sir. You won the fight already, surely that’s enough?”

You look at Arthur’s face. His expression is one of anger – eyebrows furrowed, eyes squinted, and teeth bared. Arthur lets go of Tommy and lets him fall to the mud.

“What business is it of yours?” He asks the man.

“No business.” The man coughs into his hand. “No business, sir. But, please… I beg you.”

Arthur pushes the man away and lumbers through the crowd. You follow shortly after.

Before you have a chance to say anything, a voice pipes up from the street: “Making new friends again I see, Arthur.”

You turn and see a man with a rather proper-looking mustache and a suit that you don’t doubt is very expensive. Dutch is standing beside him, looking rather pleased with himself.

“Look who we found sniffing about,” Dutch says.

“Josiah Trelawny,” Arthur drawls. “I thought you’d gone to New York.”

“And miss all this glamour? You must be joking,” Josiah says – then he spots you. “And who is this?”

Dutch gives him your name. “A stray we picked up in the Grizzlies, but they can handle themself alright. A halfway decent doctor, too.”

Josiah does a flourished bow. “Delighted to meet you.”

You rub the right side of your abdomen, where you were hit, and nod in his direction. “Nice to meet you, too. How’re you?”

“Well! Quite well, indeed.” Josiah turns to Dutch and Arthur and leans in. “I went to Blackwater looking for you gentlemen. You’re not very popular there, it seems.”

Arthur eases himself down on the steps of a storefront porch. He puts a hand on his cheek and flexes and stretches his jaw.

“Ah! Javier and Charles. I’ve missed you,” Josiah says. “And Bill, looking as well as can be.”

You look to the left and see them coming over, checking themselves for injuries and massaging sore spots like you and Arthur. Javier rolls his shoulder back and jerks his elbow straight. Bill is massaging his hip like there’s a bruise forming. Charles is standing, arms crossed, like he wasn’t just in a fight at all.

“Gentlemen,” Josiah says, bowing to the three of them. “Always a pleasure.”

“You’re right,” Dutch says. “We ain’t too popular in Blackwater.”

“We left a lotta money there,” Arthur mumbles.

“And young Sean, it seems,” Josiah adds, as if it were an afterthought.

Everyone’s heads snap to him – apart from you, of course. But this still seems important.

“Sean?” Dutch says. “You’ve found him?”

“Yes, I have,” Josiah says. “He’s being held by some bounty hunters trying to see how much money the government will pay them.”

You glance around the group. Everyone’s expressions are hardened, like they’ve already resigned themselves to rescuing Sean. Hopefully you can stay back and give them a thumbs-up as encouragement and not get in the way. (But knowing your luck, everything’s bound to go sideways.)

“I know he’s in Blackwater,” Josiah continues, “but there’s talk of them moving.”

“Well, if we step foot in Blackwater…” Arthur pauses, then touches his jaw. He flinches, then groans and puts more pressure on it. After a second, he spits and stands. “Then we’re dead men for sure.”

“There’ll be Pinkertons all over the place,” Dutch says. “But if he’s alive, we’ve gotta try.”

“Yeah,” Arthur mumbles. “Of course.”

Josiah’s eyes glance over you, then Javier, then Bill, then Charles, but when they land on Dutch, they stay on Dutch. “It’s you they want.”

“Always is.” Dutch turns and gestures at people as he continues. “Charles, go find out what you can – carefully. Josiah, take Javier. Arthur, go get yourself cleaned up. Join them when you’re ready.”

You turn and walk up the steps to the storefront and sit down on a bench by the store’s door. You sigh and lean your head back against the wall. At least you have some time to recover before some other stupid bullshit happens. Apparently, Bill doesn’t have the same ideas as you.

He asks Dutch: “Well, what about me?”

Dutch turns in an exaggerated way to face Bill. “Well exactly, what about you?”

“Wh–what does that mean?” Bill asks.

“Ah, Bill.” Dutch throws a hand up exasperatedly. “Come on.”

They start walking away and you close your eyes. You do a mental check-over of your body, and everything seems normal… apart from the things that obviously aren’t. Your liver is still aching from the hit you took.

Arthur comes back from the… communal wash bucket (ew), you guess you could call it. He plops himself right down next to you, still rubbing his jaw.

“I didn’t know you could fight,” he says.

“It wasn’t really fighting,” you say. “I used a chair.”

“I wasn’t aware the Mojave had different rules for barfightin��.” He brings his hand to his jaw and begins massaging the joint again.

“It doesn’t,” you mumble.

You sit by Arthur and watch people go back to their regular routines. People return to their homes and businesses. Someone walks two horses down the street and into the stables. You can’t help but sigh softly.

“If you want a horse,” Arthur says, “you don’t need to huff about it.”

“Huh?” You turn back to him. He’s already watching you. “The horses? No, I… I don’t want a horse.”

“That’s right.” Arthur points at you. “You… ride mules.”

Your face twists and your lip curls. Arthur catches it before you can mask it.

“What’s that look for?” He asks.

“You said it like it was derogatory,” you say. “Like it was an insinuation for… I don’t know.”

Arthur shrugs and turns away, back to watching people. You follow suit.

It’s that damned song-and-dance again. Sometimes you wish you could blurt out, “I’m from the future and – by the way – I may be in a coma! You’re probably totally fictional and I hate that my brain came up with someone as brash and angry as you. So forgive me if I’m a little slow on the uptake – I grew up thinking 9/11 was pretty bad, but you were a toddler when the Civil War ended.”

But you can’t say that. Because Arthur would look at you like you were insane, call you insane, and out you as insane to everyone else. You’d spend the rest of your days as a lab rat in some barely-legal sanatorium, drooling and doped up on LSD.

“You keep touching your jaw,” you say instead. “Does it feel alright?”

“It’ll be fine,” Arthur says. “Just got hit hard, that’s all. What about you?”

“My liver’s bruised.” You rub your side. “That’s probably the worst of it, and it doesn’t even hurt that bad.”

“Now, where’d you learn to fight like that?” He asks.

You cross one leg over the other at the knee and lean back. “I just… I was an angry kid. I got into a lot of fights.”

“And now you’re a sore bundle of nerves,” Arthur says. “Strange how that works.”

My anger turned into anxiety, you think. Are you really that stupid that you can’t see how much I hate getting violent? How much I hate slipping into some… rage-induced stupor? Please, Arthur, tell me even you’re not that dumb.

“It’s just being in a new… everything, I guess. Everything’s new,” you say. Your voice comes out quieter than you meant it to. “It’s hard to manage my anxiety.”

“Well, that’s great, isn’t it?” Arthur laughs. “Our sawbones is riddled with nerves and prone to fits of rage. That’s just perfect.”

“Can you fucking stop that?” You snap. The words come out before you can stop them. “I’ve tried to be nice every time I talk to you and you just make fun of me! Don’t you know how hard it is? How hard it is, being surrounded by people with guns and – and living like this?”

You take a breath, but don’t pause long enough for Arthur to interject. “I’m always having to prove myself and you come in here with the goddamn cherry on top – yes, I have anxiety. Yes, it’s hard to manage, and I – I…”

You stand and clench your fists. “I’m going to get a horse. And I’m going to get far away from you.”

You walk away before Arthur can say anything. You don’t even know if he wants to say anything. Probably not. If he said anything, it would probably be about how he didn’t mean it like that or some other similar horseshit.

He pointed a gun at you. A gun! It’s been weeks, and he hasn’t even tried to apologize for pointing a fucking gun at you. An actual, real G-U-N gun!

You slip into an alley between buildings and keep walking. Tears well up in your waterline and you blink furiously to keep them at bay. You don’t know why – the rain would hide them well enough. Maybe you just don’t want to give Arthur the credit for being able to make you cry.

You keep walking. You don’t even know if you want a horse anymore, but the soles of your feet are sore and you don’t want to walk.

You stop and rest your back against a building and just watch the normal people with their normal lives. How abnormal you must be, compared to them. If you told any of them the truth, they’d put you in a ward.

You want to tell them. It’d be an easy way out. You don’t want to tell them. Do you? God.

A horse trots by, a man too drunk for his own good atop her back. He waves happily to you, a wide smile on his face. He then promptly leans and drops off the horse, one of his feet caught in the stirrup.

You rush over and pull him up before he suffocates himself in the mud. He slurs out a few words in a mumble and immediately passes out.

The universe is apologizing, you think to yourself. Thank you, universe. I do not accept your apology, but I do accept this horse.

This would be ideal except for one glaring obstacle: you’ve never ridden a horse in your life. Or a mule, for that matter.

You unhook the man’s boot from the stirrup and think back to the Spaghetti Westerns you’ve seen. You grab the horse’s reins and put one of your feet in the stirrup.

With one fluid motion, you haul yourself up into the saddle. You didn’t have any issues with balance or with the horse doing anything unpredictable. You just… mounted her. Like it was easy, or something.

“Okay,” you say softly to yourself.

You spur the horse (despite the fact you don’t have spurs on your boots) and she starts walking. Surprisingly, you don’t feel scared. You don’t really feel much of anything – it’s like you’ve done this a million times before. You thought you’d be scared, or excited, or another intense emotion. You don’t feel anything at all.

“Let’s go.” You spur the horse harder and she breaks into a canter.

The ground underhoof turns from mud to harder dirt. The horse takes no issue with the rain, the thunder that’s rolling in, or the inexperienced rider atop her back. (Maybe choosing one that belonged to a drunk was a good idea.)

Eventually, you come across roads that are barren of other people. It’s just you and the horse, the rain and the clouds.

You spur her harder. She breaks out into a gallop.

“Faster,” you urge. You tuck yourself down, a smile on your face as you spur her again. “C’mon, girl!”

Peals of delighted laughter leave you before you even register that you’re laughing. Wind is blowing through your hair, rain is pelting your face, and you’ve never felt more alive.

You don’t have a sister. You don’t have a niece. You don’t have Arthur Morgan criticizing your every word and move.

You’re free. And what a joyous thing being free is.

[donatellawritings]

ahh hi tella!!! so happy that ur writing for obx :) i need to see how rafe would handle a latina sweeetheart 🎀 maybe she’s kie’s cousin? i just know he’d probably be such a cocky jerk ughhhhhh thx babe

omg i am blushing just thinking about this xo

you were laid on the warmed surface of your towel, leaning on your forearms as your sun kissed skin continued the drink in the intense rays, your white, cherry covered bikini clashing perfectly against your tanned complexion, you loved days at the beach, i mean, what better way to kill time, than to eat fresh fruits and listen to your favorite music, while taking in the stunning north carolina sun for all of its glory?

you continued to lay back, your sunglasses shielding your eyes as you hummed along to the amy winehouse song that flowed through your speakers. the sudden shadow that overtook your vision, now causing you to remove your sunglasses, your eyes squinted as you took in the sight of your cousin - kiara carrera.

your chest visibly rose and fell as you sighed, your squinted frown fading into a gleeful smile, “what’s up, kie?” you asked, your wispy eyelashes batting as she hastily dropped herself onto the sand beside you.

she quickly looked over her shoulder, rolling her eyes as she returned her attention back to you, her arm reaching over you stomach as she grabbed a red grape that sat in the sweaty sand-covered container that rested by your waist, “nothing, it’s just jj being — jj,” she sighed, popping the small fruit into her mouth.

you liked jj, platonically, of course.

“he seems nice,” you chirped, turning onto your stomach, the cherry decorated bikini bottoms that you wore, now wedged between the plush cheeks of your ass as it faced the warm sun.

kiara shrugs with a slight shake of her head, you could tell that she wanted to say more, but decided against it, the moment her eyes fell on your back.

your nails clashed against one another as you undid the knot that secured your bikini top, and concealed your perky breasts, eager to get as much of an even tan as possible, “why are you looking at me like that?” you questioned, reaching for a grape.

“i dunno — maybe it’s because you just undid your top?” kiara countered sarcastically.

you stuck out your tongue, placing the grape into your mouth, soft biting into the crispy fruit before resting the side of your cheek against the surface of your hand, “but, i hate tanlines,” you pouted with a laugh.

you and kiara were thick as thieves, and sure, the reasoning for why you had to live with your cousin wasn’t the most pleasant — but she loved having you around. you were raised as sisters, both of you holding the most intimate details about the other. and boy, did you both balance each other out well! you were bubbly and were quick to let anyone in, which served to be a detriment to you at times, nevertheless, you were a hopeless romantic who made it her business to find beauty in even the most mundane of things.

as you would say, you loved everything that was pretty. your blown-out hair was always shining, wispy eyelashes always curled immaculately, supple lips glazed in shimmery gloss, acrylic-enforced nails always painted in varying shades of pink or a simple french design. you loved wearing clothes that would show off your lower back and midriff - why? no rhyme or reason, you just like how it looked.

you had a heart of gold, wrapped in a bow, making it easy for those around you to be pulled into you and your dreamy ways.

it also made it just as easy for you to end up hurt and taken advantage of.

you and kiara remained engrossed in each other, laughter emitting from the both of you, “so, are you going to stay for the kegger or are we going home for dinner?” kie questioned, a smile remaining on her lips as she watched you try to tame your overwhelming fit of laughter.

you spoke with a giggle, “i don’t know, i promised tio that i’d help him with dinner, one of these days,” you whined, your innocent eyes searching kiara’s for any kind of pull towards your decision.

“okay, well we need to decide soon, before-” kiara began, her words ceasing as a large shadow suddenly towered over the two of you.

you straightened your neck, looking up through your lashes as the tall guy crouched down, your eyes following as he leveled with you. fuck, he was hot.

“shit, kie, y’didn’t tell me you had a secret hot sister,” the guy spoke, his bright blue eyes cutting into yours as swallowed thickly, your glossy lips now running dry.

you tried to remain as still as possible, your eyes widening at the realization that your bikini top was still untied.

“fuck off, rafe, she’s my cousin,” kiara scoffed with disgust.

you remained entranced by the guy, rafe, who kept his bright eyes on yours, a smirk tugging on his lips as he took a quick look over your shoulder, tilting his head at the sight of your untied top and barely-there bottoms.

“ah, cousin?” he asked mockingly, licking over his lips, “does this cousin of yours have a name?” he pushed, the glint of his chain peeking out from his crisp t-shirt now catching your eye.

you sweetly revealed your name, your oh-so slight accent spilling through as you subconsciously batted your pretty lashes up at rafe, “and you are,” you smiled, a toothy grin.

“rafe cameron,” he spoke sternly, ignoring kiara’s protests with a roll of his eyes as he leaned closer to you, until his lips reached your ear, “i’d shake your hand, but i wouldn’t want everyone at this beach to see what you got under there,” he cooed, his condescending tone like silk in your ears.

you couldn’t help but blush like a schoolgirl, much to your cousin’s dismay.

rafe decided to make push just a little bit more, “may i?” he spoke rhetorically, his large hands sliding down your shoulder blades.

“rafe, what the fu-”

you remained still, refusing to make eye contact with kiara as rafe tied the strings of your bikini top into a secure knot, “relax, kie - m’just making her decent,” he pulled away, standing firmly of his feet.

you’d be lying, if you said that you rafe’s hands against your warmed skin didn’t excite you. his touch was oddly tantalizing for you as you were forced to ignore the subtle ache that pulsed between your legs.

you pushed yourself off of your front, now standing directly across from rafe, his eyes shamelessly drinking in the sight of your chest as he was especially intrigued by the tan line that was revealed by the shifted cup of your bikini top.

“thank you, rafe” you spoke softly, holding out your hand as you took in the staggering height difference between you and the man before you, his buzz cut hair causing you to bashfully bite down into the sticky swell of your bottom lip.

rafe accepted your hand, the sound of his name rolling off of your tongue causing blood to rush to his length as he let out a dry chuckle, enclosing his fingers around your hand, watching closely as your breath slightly hitched from his subtle grip on your hand. you two remained like this for a beat as rafe sized you up — he could smell just how genuine and sweet you were, his mind carelessly wandering to how you’d look under him, taking him for all he has. you were much smaller than him, and it ticked a region in his tainted mind that suddenly ached to have you around in any way possible.

the sudden cut of a deep voice calling out didn’t even faze rafe as his lips curved into a smile, “yo! rafe, i’ve been looking everywhere for you man,” a taller blond guy appeared beside rafe.

rafe softly released your hand, before wiping the corners of his mouth with his index finger and thumb, exhaling sharply as he faced the blond, “well, top, i’ve been busy catchin’ up with good ol’ kie, and her pretty little cousin that’s she’s been hiding from us.”

the taller blond glanced at you, he was quicker to size you up, before redirecting rafe back into his original conversation. kiara softly grabbed your arm, carrying your speaker and container of grapes.

“let’s go home,” she nudged her head towards the street, completely privy to how dumbstruck rafe had made you. she could tell that you liked it and refused to ever allow rafe to get his hands on you.

at least, not when she was around.

“oh, okay,” you mumbled defeatedly, reaching down to grab your towel from the sand, quickly turning to face rafe who watched intently as you walked away.

“bye,” you mouthed with a small wave, before turning around to catch up with your feverish cousin.

rafe continued to feign interest in whatever the fuck topper was talking about, his eyes set on your body as you walked farther and father away from him. god, he loved the way your ass bounced with each step you took. in his fucked mind, he knew that kiara was right to keep you hidden, but now since you weren’t hidden, at least not from him, he knew that it would only be a matter of time before you were his, and his only.

of course, you being such a willing sweetheart made it all the more easier for him.

[hells-wasabii]

here’s a thing you could try doing (if you want to) the Hazbin hotel gang with seraphim child reader who somehow appeared in hell after the ep 8 battle.

the gang now has to look and protect this child since others could use them for their own means with the power the kid has and for some reason they can’t go to heaven… almost like they have a purpose here in hell

A/N: This is probably going to get a part 2, I'm a little invested in where this could go! It's probably gonna get turned into a little series with a plot.

With a child seraphim i really don't see one knowing what hell even is yet. Sure, they would tell them about it, but definitely wouldn't know what it is. Or alcohol, or curse words or anything vulgar really. I hope you enjoy!

Character: General

Type: Fic (Nonromantic, Plot-centric,Hotel staff/residents with seraphim child!reader, General)

It was an honest mistake. You really hadn't meant to, but Emily and Sera were starting to argue again, something that had been happening often since that nice Charlie girl you had met at the zoo came and gone. So you had snuck away. You hated when they argued, they were your family. Family shouldn't fight, ever, you had decided early on.

Curious, you continue on towards the portal. You investigated, peering through to see a strange place bathed in red, you saw a broken building, something that reminded you of something one your brothers had shown you from the human world. War, you thought it was called. Something horrible that humans thought up to hurt each other.

You hated when people were hurt. You wanted to get closer and help anyone who might be hurt, even if your powers hadn't fully come in yet.

Then an idea came to your mind! You could ask your brothers to help! They would know exactly what to do! With this in mind, you attempted to return back through the portal, only to be pushed back by some invisible force.

Wait... What? Why wouldn't it let you back in?

Then it happened. You were still a young Seraphim, your wings weren't super strong yet, and as you peered down at the red place your wings gave out. Luckily, your brothers and sisters had trained you in case something like that happened! You were able to slow your descent, at least enough for it not to hurt when you finally landed.

So you started to make your way to the pretty, large building on the hill with a sign that read Hazbin Hotel. Though the building didn't seem quite finished yet, it was still really pretty. Odd, hadn't it just been all broken?

As you pushed your way in through the heavy doors, you saw three people over at a tall counter: A cat man with wings cleaning a really small glass, an angel, but she didn't have her wings out, and- Oh no! She seemed to have misplaced her halo, too! That wasn't good! And a pretty pink and white spider-man that was sipping on a pretty looking juice

The pretty spider-man looked over at you and did a spit-take, nearly choking on his juice.

"What the fuck is a kid doing here?" He exclaimed, gesturing at you, fuck? What kind of word was that? No one had taught it to you, and you couldn't remember any of your fellow Seraphim using such a word, either. This seemed to get the other two's attention as they turned to look at you, shocked expressions on their faces.

"What does 'fuck' mean?" You asked, head tilted in confusion looking between each of the strangers. The pretty spider-man looked like he was going to start laughing but the angel next to him hit him hard in the shoulder, only serving to confuse you more.

"Charlie!" Excited, you ran forward, using your wings to jump higher than you would have otherwise, right into her arms. The blonde non-angel caught you with ease.

The princess of hell's eyes widened looking up to find her companions looking just as confused and shocked as she felt.

This wasn't good, not one bit.

[delusionaldaydreamz]

”that’s MY girlfriend” | c.s.

W/C: around 1228 (the word counter site kept screwing me over sorry lol) | x reader/ y/n 

In which Chris comments on his new favorite photo of you (just Chris fluff) 

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

      “Do I look okay?” I turned to Nick, who looked up from his computer screen to look at me. “You look amazing.” He smiled before going back to editing. This is how our date nights would typically go, I’d sit up here with Nick, getting ready while we gossip and go through outfits, and Chris would get ready in his own room, usually alone or occasionally with Matt to keep him company. 

        Chris said he had somewhere nice to take me tonight, so I dressed decently sophisticated. A tight, long black dress with a straight across neckline, a slit down the thigh and super thin straps, which for whatever reason made my chest look way larger than it already is. I didn’t bother wearing heels, because let’s be real the guys aren’t the tallest; I just paired it with a fresh pair of classic converse. Typically I’d go for silver jewelry, but tonight I went with gold since Chris said the place was fancy. 

     As I walked down the stairs, I noticed Chris and Matt chilling on the couch, each on their phones. “Wow, y/n you look beautiful.” Chris eyed me as I made my way down. I chuckled softly, thanking him as he stood up and made his way to me. “We’ll be back later.” Chris stated as we walked down the second flight of stairs. 

       It didn’t take too long before the Uber got here, but Chris continued eyeing me the entire time we waited. “That dress is fucking perfect on you.” He mumbled, his eyes scanning over my body. “Thanks, Chris.” I chuckled, patting his cheek softly as he leaned in for a kiss. Unfortunately this was when the Uber arrived, leaving the kiss short and sweet before we got into the backseat. The driver greeted us before taking off, Chris’s hand immediately finding its way to my thigh, offering a small squeeze. A gesture he’d always do in the car that never failed to make my heart flutter. The warmth of his fingertips sent a shiver up my spine as they trailed ever so softly up and down, in the most innocent way possible, as we talked. 

Chris pulled out his phone and took a quick selfie of us, making me giggle the second he put it down. “You’re so awkward.” I rolled my eyes. “What do you mean?” He laughed softly looking down at me. “Why in the Uber?” I asked shyly. I typically tend to be pretty awkward in photos, hating taking them where anyone could see me. Pretty weird when you’re dating YouTuber, I know. I’m just not all that confident when people are watching me, or have the ability to be watching me. When it’s just me and the guys though? Oh man all I do is take pictures. 

      As we pulled up to a steak house, Chris got out first holding the door for me. His eyes lingered on me as I got out, Chris thanking the driver before shutting it behind me. “Jesus, y/n you make being in a secret relationship with you impossible.” He muttered, his hand making its way around my waist. He rested his hand softly on my hip, but he trailed behind ever so slightly. “Chris,” I turned around, having a feeling his eyes were on my butt and I was correct. “Sorry.” His head snapped up, looking forward after he flashed me a big innocent grin. 

       Once we got to our table and ordered, I pulled out my phone to take a picture of him. The restaurant was beautiful inside. Very open, lots of twinkling lights and crystal everywhere. I held his hand from across the table, taking a cute little photo of him. He chuckled, grabbing my phone. “You’re the one who deserves to be in photos.” He teased, taking a couple pictures of me. “I seriously cannot get over how fucking gorgeous you are, y/n.” He continued taking photos, but his statement made me feel super giddy inside, which in turn made me start blushing and trying to hide my face. “Okay enough Chris.” I laughed, trying to cover my cheeks as he continued taking photos. 

         “Holy fuck,” he said seriously, making me immediately stop laughing. “What?” His serious tone and the abruptness made me nervous. “I’m pretty sure I just took my new favorite picture of you.” He mumbled going through the photos on my phone. “Chris…” I trailed starting to get embarrassed. After a few moments he finally handed my phone back to me, and now it was my turn to go through the photos I took. “Oh god, which one?” I chuckled looking at all of them. He knows i get nervous on the other side of the camera, so he’s gotten pretty mindful of my angles that I like and the lighting I like, so he actually managed to get a few photos I didn’t hate. 

      “That one.” He smiled staring down at one of the photos he took of me caught off guard while I was laughing and trying to hide my rosy cheeks. It wasn’t horrible, but it definitely wasn’t my favorite. “I sent it to myself.” He grinned, staring down at his phone. After a moment, he set his phone back down and I saw that he had set it as his screensaver. My heart fluttered a bit at the sight, butterflies erupting in my stomach as I tried to hide my growing smile. 

      Our dinner was nice, we each talked about our day, plans we have, videos they’ll be making etc. We ended up getting desert and talking about our anniversary that was coming up soon, Chris asking what I wanted to do for it. We’d managed to talk so much over dinner, that our Uber ride was a bit quiet. We both took the time to go on our phones, me posting the photo Chris had taken that he claims is his new favorite photo of me, and him doing random Chris things. 

      When we got home, more than likely we’d end up just cuddling and going to sleep to some random movie, so that’s why we ended up on our phones most of the car ride, Chris’s warm hand instinctively holding my thigh. One of the notifications from my post stuck out more than the others. “Christophersturniolo commented on your post” 

Liked by: nicolassturniolo, lilskies, and others 

Christophersturniolo: fuck sorry baby 

Christophersturniolo: you’re so beautiful I can’t hide it anymore 😭😍 

Christophersturniolo: that’s MY girlfriend 🙏🏻🥵

Nicolassturniolo: you ate y/n/n but yikes this comment section is a mess

      I chuckled at his comments, now understanding why the post was gaining more attention than usual. “Chris…” I trailed staring down at my phone. It was rare when he’d call me anything other than y/n or y/n/n so seeing him openly commenting calling me baby sent a new type of butterflies through my stomach. It was hard to describe, but it made me feel extremely good about myself. I couldn’t help but smile, even though I was definitely stressed now. “We weren’t supposed to tell them yet…” “I don’t care anymore, who the fuck wants to hide their relationship?” I chuckled at his words, leaning over for a small kiss. “I love you.” I stared up at him, getting lost in his beautiful eyes. “I love you too, y/n.” The feeling of Chris’s lips softly against my forehead sent butterflies through my tummy again. How did I get so lucky?  ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• A/N: I saw someone say there’s not enough Chris fluff and came up w this but if ts flops I’m literally never posting here again, yall don’t understand how many fucking ISSUES THIS POS WEBSITE WAS GIVING ME trying to edit and post this bruh 😭 legit was ready to throw my phone out the window

[mooniel]

Cherik hidden gems - part 2

It took me a while but here are some more nice fics with under 10k hits!

(part 1)

Closer (to God) by dsrobertson; 64k:

Political journalist and editor, Erik Lehnsherr, has just lost £150,000 in a libel case against businessman, Kurt Marko. Down on his luck and in need of money, Erik is approached by the Metropolitan Police’s Detective Inspector Charles Xavier. Well-known for his investigative journalism, Erik is asked to help in the search for a serial killer in return for £200,000 if the killer is caught.

Wrapped up in murder, religion, and sex, Erik gets more than he bargained for.

lucky, lucky you (i am fortune’s fool) by roachvibes; 17k:

Charles buys a houseplant to prove to his therapist that he can take care of something. Single father Erik sells them at the local farmer’s market every Saturday.

to put a world between us by populuxe; 25k:

Erik Lehnsherr is one of the hottest actors in Hollywood: fresh off an Academy Award nomination, he’s about to star in HBO’s most anticipated show of the year. And even though online chatter about his recent string of queer roles keeps getting louder, his personal life remains personal—just as it always has, and just as his manager and publicist continue to advise.

But when he winds up at the same wedding as his college best friend, Charles Xavier—and when they quickly fall into bed together—he’s forced to revisit the past he’s been trying to get away from for years. The pull between them has always been magnetic, but so has the weight of secrecy. Can they keep from repeating the same mistakes, or will the price of the truth be too high?

Stars Will Tumble From The Blue by Baamon5evr; 11k:

“Just one night, no fear, no shame, no blame or rage. Just serenity. Just us. Just one night to acknowledge that there is more here and then we go our separate ways and you go back to being angry and hating me.”

5 Times The Students Figured Something Out about their Professor (and one time they learned the full story) by ladanse; 14k:

Six months after Apocalypse, things are looking up. Magneto seems to be appearing more and more at the manor, and as the mutants adjust to their life at Westchester, they dig up long-concealed secrets that, honestly, Professor Charles Xavier would rather stay buried.

connecting the dots by joshriku; 7k:

 As students of both Professor Xavier and Professor Lehnsherr, the students notice they only know one thing for certain about Professor Lehnsherr: he's married. Nothing beyond that.

They take it upon themselves to find out more about him after that slip of information. Perhaps Professor Xavier knows more about his mysterious spouse?

we might just be hollywood material, baby by ikeracity, midrashic; 15k:

Ten years ago, Charles and Erik co-starred on the explosively popular animated show Greenkeep, where they first earned their big breaks — and where they fell in love. Now, at a cast reunion a decade later, they've made careful, PR-vetted plans to reveal their relationship to the fans with minimal fuss.

Of course — easier said than done.

The Wurst Case Scenario by sareyen; 12k:

If anyone asked why Charles, come rain, wind or shine, made the significant trek during his dismal lunch hour to dine at "Edie's Kosher Delicatessen", he would stubbornly say that it was because their pastrami on rye and potato knishes were absolutely to die for. He wasn't completely lying, because the deli's namesake, Edie Lehnsherr, made the best matzah ball soup Charles has ever had in his life. Still, Charles would rather shave his full head of hair off than admit that the real reason he would willingly walk through hail and fire to get to the corner deli was because of Erik, the insanely attractive man working the counter.

Sure, Erik has barely spoken two words to Charles other than "Hello, what can I get you?" or, after the third day in a row that Charles came to the deli, "Welcome back, what can I get you?", but Charles was more than happy to just ogle at the man from afar while devouring the juicy wurst Erik had put together with his (large and very capable) hands.

But, little does Charles know, Erik doesn't usually work the front counter. He only does it when he knows the cute blue-eyed man will be dining in.

just remember you are standing on a planet that’s evolving by populuxe; 17k:

 On some level, he knew he was doomed the moment Charles Xavier rolled into the first debate team meeting of the semester and gave them all a sunny grin.

Erik is so busy he barely has time for partying, let alone dating. But as he gets to know the newest member of the debate team—and as the political climate for mutants shifts significantly around them—everything starts to change.

[rwshfordgirl]

2. Merry Christmas 

summary: reader is going to spend christmas at her brother's house, he lives in the same building as the player and they are next door neighbors. her brother, knowing that the player spend christmas without his family, invites him to stay with them.

word counter: 2.322

pairing:  riccardo calafiori × reader

a/n: i apologize for any mistakes ;) I hope you like it

🎄 christmas prompts 🎄

yn was worried about the man she saw almost crying in the reception of the building where her brother lives. she didn't like to see anyone sad, especially with just a few hours left until christmas. "what made this boy so sad?" she wondered.

yn continued her way towards the elevator, still thinking about the sadness of the boy she had met a few seconds ago. and to her surprise, he had also followed the same path as her, he was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and waiting for the elevator. yn watched him out of the corner of her eye, his nose was red, he had already cried. but she also didn't fail to notice the fact that he looked like a beautiful sculpture, with a handsome face and long hair. "pretty boys cry too" she almost cursed herself after thinking this.

he got into the elevator with her, and surprised yn again, he was going to the same floor as her. the girl pretended not to notice him, she saw him taking out his cell phone, running his hand over his face right after and getting restless. he got out before yn, coincidentally, he lived in the apartment next to her brother. yn will ask him about his neighbor for sure.

the man in question is riccardo calafiori. the reason for so much sadness on his face has to do with christmas and his family. the italian football player will not be able to spend christmas with them as previously agreed. all this because of the heavy snow falling outside and preventing planes from declaring. he was devastated, this was the first time that he wouldn't be with his family on christmas eve, he just wanted to have them around on that date. he will spend christmas alone for the first time.

"i just met your neighbor." yn said as soon as she entered her brother's apartment "riccardo calafiori, arsenal player." her brother replied "a very handsome young man i must say, but he was so sad, i almost hugged him." yn confessed and her brother laughed "typical of you, but he must spend christmas alone, he's not from here, that must be why you saw him sad." the man commented "poor guy."

yn will have this on her mind for the rest of the day, maybe she can convince her brother to invite the player to have dinner with them. "i would move worlds just to spend christmas with you, i couldn't be alone." i confessed as I watched him put the final ornaments on the tree "i doubt it, you'd make some friends on the street and spend christmas at their house." her brother approached "i would still be sad for not spend christmas with you." he shrugged "i think it would be nice of us to invite him to stay with us." the boy in front of him ran his hand over his face and laughed in disbelief "i've never talked to him and i'm sure he would find this invitation super weird." he said "it's because you're unfriendly and i doubt he wouldn't accept spending christmas with us." her brother snorted "let's wait and see if he doesn't leave the house and then we'll go and invite him." yn jumped for joy "i knew you wouldn't let that poor and beautiful boy spend christmas alone." she gave him a kiss on the cheek. 

yn was torn between helping her brother in the kitchen and looking through the apartment's peephole to see if there was any movement of calafiori in the hallway. time flew by and when the girl looked at the clock it was already past nine at night. "let's go invite him now." she didn't even wait for her brother's answer and opened the door, but he was right behind her, huffing and hating his sister's idea."you ring the bell, say what you have to say and i'll stay here smiling." she said "oh never i'll do it, it was your idea." he replied "well then you're not going to have a piece of my banana pie." he rolled his eyes and rang the player's bell in great anger, but what can't a piece of his favorite pie do.

riccardo, in turn, was lying on the sofa in the living room, with his arm over his eyes and with no desire whatsoever to get out of bed. his mother had already spoken to him, telling him that he didn't need to be sad because at the first opportunity she and the rest of the family would be going to london to spend as much time as possible with the player. he is willing to pretend that today is just another normal day. 

but the sound of the bell playing caught him by surprise. "my family is here." was the first thing that came to his mind. so he jumped off the couch and ran to open the door, without even looking through the peephole.

yn noticed the disappointment in his eyes when he opened the door and saw her and her brother standing in the doorway. calafiori remembered that her brother was his neighbor and that he had seen her when he arrived from training, they were in the elevator together and even though riccardo was sad, he was able to notice that the girl was his type. 

"i'm sorry to bother you on christmas eve, but my sister and i wanted to know if you'd like to spend christmas with us?"calafiori first arched his eyebrow and then widened his eyes, he was left without reaction. yn pinched her brother's arm, in her head, he shouldn't have been so direct."i saw you a little sad today at reception and when i told my brother, he said that you would probably spend christmas alone." the italian stared at her in shock. "look, i don't know if you're going to spend christmas alone or if you don't even celebrate christmas, but if you want, our door is open and you can join us for dinner."she smiled when she finished speaking.inside she was almost destroying herself, she thought it had been a terrible idea and that most likely the player was calling her and her brother crazy mentally. 

but calafiori was just surprised, he was unresponsive for a few minutes and had difficulty processing the information that had just been thrown at him. but would it be bad to spend christmas with two strangers? it's an opportunity to finally make friends in the land of the queen, since everyone they knew there was an arsenal employee just like him. and now that he was feeling so lonely, spending christmas with two strangers was starting to seem like a good idea to him. "but i don't have anything to bring." yn had already given up waiting for an answer when riccardo opened his mouth. "no, it's okay!" yn said happily. "we both cook a lot of things, unless you want something specific, i can cook for you." calafiori smiled "no, no need" he said "just let me know what time i can come to your apartment." yn looked at her watch "whenever you want, we'll be waiting for you." she winked at him.

she and her brother returned home, calafiori laughed alone before closing the apartment door. he can't believe he'll spend christmas with two strangers, but he's come to the conclusion that that girl could convince him to do anything with just a smile.

"but two minutes and you'd be flirting with him wildly." yn's brother commented "he's a very fine man to look up to." she said "and a football player." yn just rolled her eyes.

calafiori knocked on their door about twenty minutes after the invitation, and the person who answered was yn. he had changed his clothes, he was all in black, pants and a long-sleeved shirt. he smiled as soon as he saw her. "look, thank you very much for the invitation, i hope i don't bother you." he said "there's no trouble at all, now come in and make yourself at home. my brother will be right there." she made way for him to enter and so he did, the Italian looked at the decoration and was amazed "wow, you did a great job." he complimented "oh, it wasn't me! it was my brother." she replied "don't you live here?" he asked as he sat down in a chair next to the couch. "no, i live in manchester." yn was sitting on the couch "i need to tell you that this is the first time i'm spending christmas with strangers." he joked "don't worry my brother and i won't kill you or extort you." he laughed "but you two are saving my night. this is the first time i haven't been able to spend christmas with my family, arsenal couldn't release me before and now the planes can't take off due to the weather conditions." he explained "i can imagine how horrible it must be" she said. "my brother and i always spend christmas together. never alone." yn commented "are you the older?" the italian asked "no, he is."

yn heard the stove beeping when the turkey was cooked. "you didn't think it was weird, did you?" she called from the kitchen. "the fact that you realized i was going to spend christmas alone?" she said something inaudible. "i did, sorry." yn appeared in the living room again. "okay." they laughed. "but I can't stand seeing anyone so sad and on christmas eve. i almost hugged you." she said as she sat down in the spot she was before "she's weird." her brother quickly appeared in the living room and soon returned to his room. "i definitely didn't find you weird." the Italian said but yn pretended not to hear "sibling things, i find him weird and heartless."

"tell me something about yourself, even if you don't seem like someone who would hurt me, it's still strange knowing that i'll be spending christmas with strangers." he said "are you going to tell me something about yourself too?" he nodded "my name is yn, i'm 20 years old, originally from  brighton and i'm studying architecture in manchester." riccardo smiled "ok, you told me the basics of your life and so i will do too." the player said "riccardo calafiori, 22 years old, from rome and football player currently at arsenal." califiori finished introducing himself "you summed it up well. i feel like i'm on a reality show." she joked. "i don't understand." he straightened up "on reality shows people do presentations like this" yn stood up again and went towards the kitchen "in real life too, right?" the italian arched his eyebrow.

yn was almost sending riccardo back to his apartment. he was making the girl nervous, the way he looked at her, the way he talked. everything about him made her nervous.

but the night went on, her brother finally left the room and joined them in the living room. the three of them talked, laughed and had dinner. calafiori was happy to be with them. he enjoyed meeting yn, and  enjoyed hugging her even more after saying "marry christmas." 

"thank you very much for the invitation, i don't know what i would do without you." ricardo was a little drunk and yn guided him back to the apartment. "you've already said it a million times." the girl laughed before placing him on the couch in his living room. "are you going to stay here or do you want me to take you to your room?" the girl asked "i don't know, i just know that i want you here." yn just gave a light laugh "then i'll leave you here" calafiori pouted "are you going to leave me alone? i can't be with my family and now i can't be with you?" yn rolled her eyes at the player's drama.

"oh come on, we just met." calafiori mumbled something inaudible "are you crying?" she laughed when she saw the Italian's eyes welling up.

yn felt sorry for the boy and immediately hugged him. calafiori had said that it was the first time he spent christmas without his family, yn just wanted to comfort him. "i'll wait for you to fall asleep then." she said, sitting on the floor with her back against the sofa. "call your mother to wish her a merry christmas." yn remembered and he promptly picked up his cell phone. 

he took yn by surprise as soon as he pointed his cell phone at yn's face, she met all the family members in a single night. riccardo told his mother everything that had happened and said that yn and her brother saved his christmas. the girl smiled listening.

                    a few years later.

"your mother and i only met because of christmas, you know?" riccardo said to his daughter, isabella, as he tried to put her to sleep "did santa help you?" the little girl asked "yes, he and your uncle." isa was surprised "oh, so that's why uncle said he was santa's best friend." riccardo laughed "yeah, and because of his height too. he was mistaken for an elf."

"stop talking about my brother like that." yn joined her husband in their daughter's room. "honey, you should go to sleep. santa claus said he'll only come when you're asleep." yn gave her daughter a little kiss on the forehead, calafiori pouted and pointed to his own forehead "and me?" he muttered. yn rolled her eyes laughing and soon gave in to her husband's wishes. "do you wait for me to fall asleep?" the little girl asked "of course honey, we'll stay here with you." yn hugged her. "i can't imagine my life without you and without christmas." riccardo said after seeing the scene.

[anton-luvr]

hi! could i request for boyfriend!anton helping fem!reader sleep and study for her exams as she has a really hard time sleeping due to her stress and anxiety levels

congrats on 400! ♡

# HERE FOR YOU.

⚝ bf!anton x fem!reader | fluff & angst | college au, bf au ⚝ note ; i havent written a fic in a while, so i hope this is okay!! thank u sm anon i hope you enjoy this <3 + if anyone's stressed from exams rn, don't be! make sure to take good care of yourself and just try your best. you got this! ^_^b

You really hated Biology.

You're not even quite sure why you decided to take the subject when you've always struggled with science.

But with your finals taking place tomorrow, there's not much time for you to mourn over your terrible decision.

Mumbling to yourself, you read through your textbook for what felt like the hundredth time in the past hour.

Horror sets in when you realize you still don't understand most of the things you're reading - like what the hell is deamination?

Groaning, you rest your head on the table with a heavy thud.

You were never going to pass this test.

Tears start to fill your eyes, rolling down your cheeks as you bury your face in your hands.

You didn't mean to cry, but sobs start to escape you as anxiety rises in your chest.

Why couldn't you understand it?

Were you not smart enough?

What if you were the only one who fails in the entire class?

But those thoughts were shaken right out when the door slams open, startling you.

"Babe, what's wrong?" Anton asks, rushing over to your side.

The moment you feel the warmth of his arms around you, you burst into tears again.

"I'm never going to pass this exam!" you sputtered, tears streaking your face and nose filling with snot. "I'm gonna be the only one who fails!"

Anton's heart shatters at your words, pain biting at his chest when he sees how exhausted and stressed you were.

But he lets you cry it all out in his arms first, soft kisses pressed to your head to remind you that he was there for you.

When your sobs slowly turn into sniffles, he gently pulls away from you.

"Hey, look at me." he calls, tucking your hair behind your ear.

You look up reluctantly, slightly embarrassed at the thought of what a wreck you probably looked like right now.

"Don't worry so much about it," Anton assures. "You're going to go in there tomorrow and try your best. That's all that matters. And even if you fail, it's fine. At the end of the day, grades are just silly letters on a piece of paper."

You nod, too tired from all your crying to give a verbal response.

"And I think your health matters so much more, hm?" he continues, wiping a stray tear away gently. "You look so tired."

You didn't just look tired; you really were tired.

"How about we call it a night and get ready for bed? Your exam's in the afternoon tomorrow, so we can wake up early and study a bit more before you go for it." Anton suggests.

You'd say no, but sleep sounded so tempting right now.

So without any protest, you let him pull you up and lead you to the bathroom, hands interlaced tightly.

"My pretty girl." he sighs, kissing you on the cheek as he sets you on the bathroom counter.

The compliment makes you smile for the first time that day as he starts up a warm shower for the both of you.

When you're done, you let him help you change into your favorite hoodie set - which was all nice and warm because he threw it in the dryer just before you started your shower.

And like the absolute angel he is, Anton lights up your favorite scented candles and disappears into the kitchen to make you a mug of hot chocolate, a heart made out of whipped cream floating on top.

"Feel better?" he asks, massaging your shoulders while you finished your drink.

You hum a 'yes' in reply, pressing a quick kiss on his hand. "Thank you. I was a mess just now." you mumble, embarrassment keeping your eyes glued to the floor:

Anton scoffs at this, kissing you on the lips. "No need to thank me." he mumbles, kissing you again. "I'd do anything for you."

His words make your cheeks flush red as he takes the mug from you, disappearing again into the kitchen to pop it into the dishwasher.

By the time he's back, you're already snuggled under the covers in bed with your eyes shut.

Quietly, Anton dims the lights and gets in beside you.

"You worked so hard today." he whispers, carding his fingers through your hair. "I'm so proud of you. I'm sure you'll do great tomorrow."

He seals his words with another kiss on your lips.

"I love you." you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck while you moved closer into his warm embrace. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

He tuts at this, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

"You'll never have to worry about that, because I'll always be here for you." he promises.

You thank the stars for blessing you with the sweetest lover ever as you eventually drift off to sleep, safe and secure in Anton's arms.

© anton-luvr, 2023.

taglist: @wonbons @mxlly143 @keehobaldboy @shawyle @yenart

[oldiesstationlover11607]

Hi hey it's me the Frank obsessed girl hello hi there

I'm afraid I need to have seconds if it's not much of a problem

I'm starving for a little sweet Valentine's Day fluff but like a rlly rlly rlly fluffy adorable cutie patootie Valentine's Day full of love could be a day in or a day out idm

In conclusion whatever u want to write but as a Valentine's Day special 💕💕💕

Sending love and good wishes and hoping you start the new year amazingly 🖤

Valentines - Frank Iero x Drummer!Reader

Word Count: 711

A/N: Just in time ;)

I’d always considered Valentine's Day to be a dumb holiday. There was never really any point, let alone anyone to spend it with–until Frank came along. I never expected him to be the type to celebrate the holiday, often citing those generic holidays as nothing more than quick cash grabs by corporate America. We’d spent years as friends, eating at diners every Valentine’s as we toured across the country with it quickly turning into its own little tradition. He had only just asked me to be his girlfriend a few weeks before, everything between us had slowly been growing, finally reaching its crescendo. “You’re not seriously telling me you haven’t planned anything for him?” Gerard mumbled from the couch, a coke with lemon in his hand. I tilted my head back and forth, thinking it through. “I don’t know, it just seems like if we were going to do something, we would’ve planned it already. It’s tomorrow,” I sighed. Gee had already told everyone about his plans for Lindsey and was practically bursting at the seams with excitement. “You’re overthinking it,” Gerard said, shaking his head. “Just do something simple. It’s your first Valentine’s together, right? It doesn’t have to be a big production.” I groaned, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah, but it feels weird. We never did anything before, and now suddenly, just because we’re together, I’m supposed to start caring about Valentine’s Day?” “You don’t have to care about the holiday,” he countered. “Just care about Frank.” I sighed. That was the problem, wasn’t it? I did care about Frank. A lot. I just wasn’t sure if he’d even want to do anything. He hadn’t mentioned it at all, and I didn’t want to be the one to force some corny Valentine’s tradition on us when we’d spent years laughing about how ridiculous the whole thing was. “Look, just do something small,” Gerard continued. “A card, maybe. Or grab takeout from that diner you guys always go to. Something that feels like you.” I nodded slowly, letting the idea settle. Maybe Gerard had a point. I didn’t need to go all out—Frank would probably hate that anyway—but acknowledging the day in some way could be nice. That night, I found myself at the corner store, staring at the rows of Valentine’s cards. They were all too much—over-the-top declarations of love, glittery hearts, cheesy poetry. None of it fit us. But just as I was about to leave, I spotted something tucked behind the others. A simple, black-and-white card that read, You’re my favorite pain in the ass. Perfect. I bought the card and grabbed some takeout from our usual spot. When I got back to the apartment, I hesitated before scrawling a note inside the card.

Frank—Happy dumb corporate holiday. You’re still my favorite part of every day. Let’s go eat some greasy diner food like we always do. Love, (yeah, I said it) Me. I sealed it up and shoved it in my jacket pocket before I could second-guess myself. The next evening, when I met Frank at the diner, he slid into the booth across from me, shaking his head with a smirk. “You know, I almost got you something for today, but then I thought, nah, she doesn’t care about this holiday.” I rolled my eyes, pulling the card from my pocket and tossing it onto the table. He blinked, surprised, before picking it up and opening it. As he read my note, a slow, warm smile spread across his face. “Damn,” he said, setting it down carefully. “Now I feel like an ass for not getting you anything.” I shrugged, taking a sip of my milkshake. “You got me dinner. That counts.” He chuckled, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “Alright, but next year, I’m getting you something so obnoxiously romantic, you’re gonna hate it.” I snorted. “I look forward to it.” And just like that, we had a new Valentine’s tradition. Later that night, as we packed up after band practice, Frank caught me by the arm. “By the way, drummer girl, I think you might just be my favorite pain in the ass, too.” I laughed, twirling a drumstick between my fingers. “Better get used to it, guitarist boy.”

//

CHECK MY ACC FOR REQUEST STATUS

[jermer10]

Heya! Was wonderin if ye could do a little drabble for Scout with a GN!S/O who's like pretty new to the team but is hella smug and overall just sorta acts alot like him but more chill and laid back? If this isn't exactly yer cup 'o tea or ye just dunno how to write this request, feel free 'ta ignore this!:]

Have a nice day/noon/afternoon/evening/night !!

TF2 hey, stranger | scout x reader

gn reader | as a scout enjoyer myself i LOVE this ask! i decided to write it as more of a slow burn-ish fic, hope you enjoy, anon!

drabbles under the cut :P

He had to rack his brain for reasons he was supposed to hate you. The team loved you, how could they have not? You radiated an energy Scout had only attempted to project his entire life. Maybe that's why. Maybe it was jealousy, how you managed to embody everything he wanted to be and more. But he couldn't really hate you, not in the traditional sense. You were still the last thought going through his head every night, the first person he wanted to see every morning, the person he assigned to the pillow he would squeeze to his chest late at night. He had even stolen one of your shirts to use as a pillowcase. Yeah, a better term for what he was would have been whipped.

It felt routine, waking up, walking into the kitchen, and seeing you and some other teammate laughing up a storm, getting closer, feeling his own presence in the structure of the team becoming increasingly irrelevant. If he wasn't the cocky asshole, who was he? This morning was different. He had awoken early, around 5am, as far as he could make out on the alarm clock next to his bed, anyway. He couldn't bother getting dressed, the only mercs who he knew that would be up wouldn't care, the last thing on his mind right now was you. His throat was phlegmy, a sour taste permeating his tongue, and all he wanted was to brush his teeth and drink a cool glass of water.

The stairs from the team barracks to the kitchen creaked under the weight of his footsteps, it's odd that he never noticed it before. He had become a lot more perceptive after meeting you. Turning into the kitchen/dining area, he spots you sitting on a barstool in front of the kitchen counter, mug in one hand and some random comic in the other. His face heats up, you turn and smile at him. A warm smile, the kind that makes every muscle in his body soften. The safe kind of smile that you wouldn't expect from someone so energetic and lively. "Morning," You spoke in a low tone. Scout was taken aback, sure, everyone was still asleep, but you were being so....so caring? And to him of all people? Weren't you supposed to dislike him as much as he disliked you?

You continued to stare, a slight nervousness in the way your eyes creased, your smile had began to falter. Something he had never seen from you before. Then he realized he had been staring at you, inner monologuing for far too long. "Oh, uh, g'mornin', sorry I didn't think anyone would be up this early...." He trailed off, trying to come up with some excuse as to why he was standing in the kitchen he had been dining in for years longer than the person in front of him. Your face softened at his answer, "Oh! It's fine.....I don't own the kitchen." You laughed on those last words, eyes resting back onto your comic. Scout felt the heat rush back into his face, yeah, this is why he didn't like you. You were quick tongued, always having some sort of smart assed response to him. It's clear why you and Spy got on well.

His face twisted into something between a frown and a scowl, you took no notice, sipping whatever liquid was in your mug. It smelt of coffee, and the deodorant you had been using since you begun working for mann co. He knew it was yours, the smell comforted him, if anything. The shirt he had stolen from your laundry basket in the downstairs washing room was beginning to lose that smell, and he had considered returning it for a while so that he could steal it back after a couple of wears. God, he was such a creep. "Are you going to continue standing there staring at me, or are you gonna grab something to eat?" You smirked to yourself, eyes flickering up at him before returning to your reading material.

"Fuck off." The words came to him before he could even think, he clasped a hand over his mouth in shock. You looked up. But you weren't upset, you seemed more amused if anything. "I beg your pardon?" A grin graced your features, Scout swallowed thickly, eyebrows furrowing, hands becoming clammy with the heat his body gave off. "Fuck...off..." Scout could barely get the words out. He was nervous, if you were as chill as you presented yourself then surely you wouldn't really care, that you'd just laugh him off and return to your book. But you didn't. You continued to stare, eyes boring into his skull, grin growing wider. "I like you, Jeremy." You spoke sweetly, not a trace of anger in your words.

A week later he had continued thinking about that interaction. He avoided you like the plague, the only words spoken in your presence being on the battlefield. Surely, you couldn't have meant it like that. Surely, you had been teasing him, trying to make him uncomfortable, one of the other mercs must have tipped you off on his crush, despite the fact that no one actually knew. Until he woke up again, this time around 2am. Obviously, you wouldn't be awake. It was the middle of the night, and even if he did encounter you he could just ignore you. His bedroom felt far too warm, and his bedsheets felt far too heavy. He decided he needed to get up and grab a glass of water.

There you were, sitting in your usual bar stool, upper body draped over the counter, staring at the mug in front of you. You looked up tiredly, eyes resting on the boy, and giving him a weak smile. "Hey, stranger." He ignored you. Well, he tried to. He could feel your eyes on him as he grabbed the glass from the cabinet, and filling it with lukewarm tap water. "It feels waaaay too hot tonight, right? Like it's the middle of February, it should be way cooler than this," You mumbled he found himself agreeing with you. Wordlessly nodding his head, eyes glued to the linoleum flooring. "Are you mad at me?" You finally asked, cutting whatever tension he perceived to be between the two of you with a butchers knife.

"I dunno....I guess?" He felt annoyed, of course he was mad at you. Was his ignorance and one word responses not obvious to the fact? You looked....hurt. Something that made him feel sick. He didn't want to hurt you. "What did I do?" You were quick to the point. "Does it matter? Nothin's gonna change even if I do tell ya', and besides, you didn't seem to have a problem with me ignoring ya' before." The word vomit was rising in his chest, one backhanded or smartassed response from you and all of his feelings for you would spill out. That's not how he wanted to tell you, not like this, not when you're hurt. Not when he's upset. You must have gathered as much, because you stood up, the legs of the chair making a quiet scraping noise against the floor, and you walked out.

It wasn't until a month later when he met you in the kitchen again. You seemed off, still your usual smug self with the other mercs to a point, but when the topic of Scout would come, that confident demeanor would falter. He felt like he was the only person who noticed it. It was 4am, he had been waking up every other night in the hope that he would see you there. Tonight he got lucky, you were rummaging through the fridge, the light illuminated every inch of your skin. Scout went flush, obviously you hadn't expected anyone to visit the kitchen, that, or you weren't planning on staying in there for long. Your underwear looked good on you. "Oh- fuck! Scout, you scared the shit out of me!" You closed the fridge with a start, seeing the boy looming over you.

"Uh, sorry." He cursed himself for the lackluster response, and for scaring you. "Can...can we talk?" He felt awkward, talking was his strong suit in some ways, and his hubris in others. "Yeah, uh, just lemme pour us some water..." You looked away, grabbing two glasses from the cabinet. Scout sat at the bar stool this time, twiddling his thumbs together in anticipation. You stood before him, sliding the glass across the counter towards him chastely. You didn't seem to care that he saw you like this, he supposed that it came with the personality. "Look, I'm sorry for bein' such a douchebag, I just...." He was looking for the words in your eyes, he could see something swelling in them. Love? Hopefully.

"I have a crush on you, dude." You spoke for him, looking down at your own cup. Your face was red, and with the way you started fidgeting with the hem of your underwear, it was clear you had begun to feel insecure. Scout knew the feeling, but this being the third time you had seen him topless, with only his socks and boxers on, he didn't really mind. "Yeah." He managed to breathe out, setting the glass down on the table and resting his hand on his chin, hand covering his mouth. He stared at something, anything other than you. "I've liked you for a while....I just- I know you feel....threatened? by me. It isn't a nice feeling. I can't control my personality....I just..I saw you and I thought that maybe we were the same? And when you started to ignore me...I dunno. It felt like that small confession I made just...made shit awkward."

Jeremy couldn't help but grin. Here you were, the ever confident y/n, wearing your heart on your sleeve for him. You knew how he had felt, he didn't even have to tell you. You just knew. He felt like an ass, but the slight power trip he had knowing that he made you feel just as nervous as you did to him....it was relieving in a way. You looked at him, grin coming to your face in turn. "God, I feel kinda stupid now." You laughed lightly. Scout's heart felt like it was going to explode. "We should make out." It didn't mean to come out like that, but you weren't deterred. He leant over the table, disregarding the empty glasses and pulling you in.

You felt soft, your lips tasting like whatever lip balm you had been using, the smell of your deodorant overpowering his senses. He tugged lightly on your hair with his right hand, his left grasping at the back of your neck in a desperate way to keep you close. Your hands wrapped around his neck, fingers digging into the soft flesh, feverishly you moved your lips against his. It felt like a dream to Scout, the way he had finally gotten you here, now. "D'you...wanna......date....." He managed to get out between kisses. You pulled away, eyes heavy, face red and messy. "Yes." And you pulled him in again.

[mothergold]

| Verbatim | 

Pairing: Dottore x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Smut, Reader has a penis, Dottore goes by He/Him pronouns, Reader goes by No Pronouns, Dubcon, Anal Sex, Enemies -> to Lovers, This all takes place in his lab, Reader is one of his assistants, Handjob, Reader says ‘Stop’ at one point, 1.9k words.

A/n: This is probably the most personal thing I’ve written. I want to preface this by saying I wrote this to experience some sort of gender euphoria/ease some dysphoria I am having. So, please keep in mind that while the reader goes by no pronouns, and isn’t explicitly said to be trans, that reader is very much written through the lens of a trans person. With that being said I do not mind whoever reads this, all I ask that you please be respectful about it. Thank you <3

Summary: As Dottore’s assistant you’ve had your eyes on him for quite some time. You’ve done well to keep it a secret for a long time, but suddenly you find yourself acting recklessly due to your impatience. 

Tagging: @auphelia @themovingcastlez

“Dottore?” You asked, hand clenching the beaker and trying your damnedest to not break it by accident.

“Hmm?” He hummed, not even bothering to look up at you.

You sighed, growing increasingly more hot with each passing second. “Stop what you’re doing right now.” You demand.

He stopped looking into the microscope in front of him, but not because you told him to, rather because he was so appalled you’d act as you did.. 

He scowled at you. “Excuse me?” 

You shrink for a moment before gathering the courage to respond. “Dottore, I want.. I want-,” you struggle to get the words out as brave as you try to be. 

“Spit it out.” He started to get impatient.

“I want you!” You blurted out the words without realizing, shame flooded your body as soon as you had realized what you’d just done. 

He stared back in disbelief, his face growing red with embarrassment. Not only was he embarrassed but he was angry.

“I want to fuck you.” You said with lust filled eyes. 

He was taken back, he didn’t know what to say. He placed a hand on the counter behind him and leaned back, almost as if he was trying to back away from you. 

“That’s not going to happen. We both have work to do.” He explained, but you weren’t letting up. 

You walked a few steps towards Dottore and leaned in close to his face, your lips merely an inch from his as you started to rub his groin. “Please? I need you, Dottie..”

He swallowed hard as he felt himself get hard as you slipped your hand down his pants and had begun to touch his cock. You made sure to touch all his most sensitive parts, stroking him nice and slow before rubbing your thumb against the tip. He gasped at the sudden sensation, his body felt as if magma was running through his bloodstream. Dottore hated how you knew just where to touch him. Fuck, how he despised you with ever fiber of his being. He loathed you, was repulsed by you, and even with all that being said he couldn’t help but buck his hips into your hand. 

“Come on, I know you want it, you’re already so hard for me. Just give in already.” You purred against his lips. 

“Fuck you.” He spat, nearly moaning on his own words. 

That only spurred you on further, though. You started to grind your cock against his leg as you continued rubbing him gently. You started to go faster as you continued to thrust your hips against him, letting out soft whines as Dottore looked down at you in disgust. He hated how he couldn’t move, wouldn’t even fight back. Although even he couldn’t deny the heat growing in his stomach, every touch sent him further and further over the edge. Had it been anyone else and any other situation he would’ve done something, but he couldn’t stomach the idea of the pleasure ceasing to exist even for a second. 

He moved his hand to push you away, only a little, but you were quick to grab him by the wrist and force it back. 

“N-No, let me.. Let me fuck you.” You moaned. 

Dottore pulled away for just a moment before he was swiftly flipped around and pushed down against the counter.

“Careful, my patience is running very thin.” He warned.

You wasted no time in pulling down his pants enough to push yourself inside his hole, steadying yourself with a hand on his lower back. 

“Ohh, fuck that feels so good.” You moaned. 

The sudden intrusion caused Dottore to grip onto the counter, hissing as you slowly started to thrust in and out of him. You were already getting ahead of yourself and fucking him at an even faster speed than before, getting rougher with each thrust you made. You take one of your hands and wrap it around his waist and push yourself against his back as you fuck him. Your hips roll against his ass as the both of you are groaning in pleasure. Dottore has half a mind to put you in your place, but even he couldn’t deny himself like that. He enjoyed it, the feel of your cock dragging along his walls. 

You bit your lip and carved your nails into his plush skin, throwing your head back with a loud moan as you felt that heat begin to fill up in your gut. Quickly you increased the pace in which you fucked him, now having both hands on his hips as you drilled into him. Not caring about his pleasure you lost yourself in your own high as the thread finally snaps. You let out a strangled moan as you feel yourself release inside of him. You kept him pressed tightly against you so he had no place to escape. Dottore squirmed in your grip, wanting to be let go even if it was a nice feeling. Loosening your grip you move one of your hands to hover over his lower back, pressing it down slightly as you start to fuck in and out of him at a painfully slow pace. 

You watch your cock become covered in your own cum, breathing heavy as you see the white substance leak out of his abused hole. Already you could feel your desire return, you wanted more, whatever he was willing to give up you needed it. You pulled out momentarily to take some time to catch your breath, but before you had the chance to push yourself back in you were grabbed by Dottore and flipped around, switching positions with him suddenly. 

“W-What are you?” You had begun to ask, but he was quick to shut you up. 

“Quiet.” He replied sternly.

You wanted to question him, ask him what the fuck was going on in his head, but he went straight into it. With your back against the counter your cock stood upright, touching Dottore’s hard on just enough to make you go crazy. His tip was red and leaking with pre-cum, a sign that he must’ve wanted this just as bad if not more than you. Taking his large hand Dottore began to wrap it around both of your cocks, squeezing them gently as he jerked both of you off. You gasped at the sudden feeling. The sensation was heavenly, like nothing you’d experienced before. Already you could feel your confidence fade as your hand covered your mouth to suppress your pathetic whimpers.

Dottore ripped your hand away from your mouth. 

“No, I want to hear you.”

You opened your mouth as if to gasp but no sound came out. Instead you started to silently cry, feeling warm tears stream down your cheeks as Dottore started to stroke both of your cocks faster and faster. He kept this up till you were arching your back and crying out his name. He smirked as he drank in the sight of your body writhing in pleasure. It sure was cute seeing how the once confident image of you had been shattered and turned into the image of you he’d grown accustomed to. Soaking in the sight of your hips rolling and back arching as you cried for him to stop, but both him and you knew better than that. You didn’t want it to stop, not for a single second. If anything that just gave him the go ahead to keep going. 

“S-Stop, it’s- it’s too much!” You cry out, tears falling on your hot cheeks. 

He chuckled to himself as he began to grind against your cock, rubbing in the pre-cum leaking from both of your tips. Your bottom lip trembled just moments before he kissed you, slipping his tongue past your lips as he stroked both of you off. His hands were soft, just the thing to send you over the edge at long last. When you finally released yourself all over not just yourself but him as well, you found yourself moaning into his mouth and clawing at his back. Pure electricity enveloped your body as both of you desperately bucked your hips to milk each other of every drop of cum. 

“D-Dottore.. Fuck, that feels amazing.” You cried out, clinging to him in pure desperation.

“Shh, I’m here.” He spoke those words reassuringly even as they’re thick with condescension. 

You don’t care, only worried about how amazing it felt for his cock to rub against yours until you both eventually grew soft. You lean back against the counter, barely able to hold yourself up as Dottore went to get a fresh cloth to clean you both up. Your pants are down to your knees and you make eye contact with Dottore as he wipes the cum off of you. He’s gentle but still you hiss in pain, the overstimulation caused more harm than you expected. Thankfully, it’s done before you can even think twice about the pain. Dottore looked you up and down and then grinned slightly just before he pulled up his own pants, then helped you with yours. Something about looking at him as he did that had done something to you that you couldn’t quite put into words. It was truly mesmerizing.

“So..” You start, feeling the awkwardness in the air.

He jerks his head towards yours and glares at you.

“No.” He snaps at you, running his hands through his hair before adjusting the rest of his clothes to look more presentable. “Don’t even think about telling anyone about this, either.”

You rub the back of your head nervously and try to look the other way, but instead you only made awkward eye contact with a segment who had just entered the lab. 

“Geez, way to be harsh, Doc.” You joke, trying to make light of an extremely uncomfortable situation. 

He didn’t say anything or seem to acknowledge what you said but you could tell by his stiff demeanor and his hand that trembled that he was anything but unaffected by what had just happened. You started to walk your way over to the counter where you joined Dottore with what you were previously doing before everything escalated. The silence was deafening and even with the obvious way in which it affected Dottore, you couldn’t help but wonder whether he cared at all. You thought to yourself about whether or not he felt the same way during everything. Did his heart pound incessantly, an irritating pounding in your chest? Or was it an empty casket waiting for a body that’d never come? Whatever he felt he made damn sure he kept it to himself, and something about that truly disturbed you. Maybe, you pondered, perhaps things could be different in time. Perhaps all you had to be was patient and above all, persistent. 

[pocket-watcher]

I have a little request if that's okay! A group of friends ( or maybe just two or three people) getting lured in by a hypnotist that is an animal lover. And finds people to hypnotize them to become different animals. And the friends group is next.

Or if it's too much people maybe one or two people finding their friend who got lost in the woods and found the hypnotist

Of course it’s okay!! This one might gently tread into pet-play territory, but won’t be sexual! Just a heads up for anyone reading so you don’t get side swept by it haha…

On Thursday they found a flyer for a travelling zoo.

Kieran thought it’d be a better way to spend their Saturday than pushing their way through crowds at the mall, so they all agreed enthusiastically.

Except for Jodie. She was dragged along, complaining the whole way there.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Mac said, eyeing the chainlink fence as he brought the car to a halt.

“I’m telling you, it’s sketchy as hell and I hate it.” Jodie huffed, in the back seat.

“No one cares what you think, Jodie. Yeah, this the address on the flyer.” Kieran pointed out.

Mac drove onwards.

The further up the dirt road they got the more it began to look like a zoo. Big tents, refreshments, and a very dapper man sitting in the ticket booth.

They parked the car. Seemed like a busy place, with quite a few also parked around them.

“Five tickets, my good sir!” Kieran said, slapping the money down on the counter.

Jodie rolled her eyes, as Willow nudged her, giggling, into Lexie who was on her phone.

With an unblinking stare they were handed 5 tickets and ushered inside the first tent.

Which… is where things got odd.

The tent was not full of animals, but instead, full of people.

“…what the fuck.”

Immediately in front were two people in a cage acting like monkeys, one grooming the other’s hair.

Jodie immediately jumped into action. She waved her hands in front of their glazed over eyes, and nothing. The people in front of her simply continued on whilst screeching occasionally like chimpanzees.

“What the hell is this…” Mac said, staring at what he guessed was supposed to be a “lion”. The woman watched him hungrily from behind the bars.

“It’s fucked up is what it is, they’re like brainwashed!” Lexie said, snapping photos on her phone.

Kieran simply stared on in horror. All these people were trapped in these cages.

That’s when it hit him.

“Uh, guys…? Who’s got eyes on Willow?”

The group panicked, looking around, before spotting a small exit flap at the back.

“…Willow?” Lexie called out, reaching for the curtain,

A body slammed into her, throwing her backwards.

Lexie fought for a second to get her attacker off of her, before she realised they were licking her.

“Ew! Ew! Get them off me!!” She yelled, as Mac pulled Willow off the poor girl.

Willow panted, tongue out. No recollection behind the eyes.

“A dog, yes. Not exactly fit for my zoo but she’ll do nicely.” A voice said, the ticket booth operator stepping into view.

“What the hell did you do to her?!” Kieran asked.

The man laughed. “Does that mean you want to see my little trick?” He looked at Lexie and snapped his fingers.

She gasped, head dropping instantly.

She dropped her phone, and immediately began squawking like a parrot, preening herself, strutting around.

Mac, who had let go of Willow, stared unnervingly at Jodie and Kieran.

They were 20 feet from the other side of the tent. From freedom.

“It’s a funny little thing. I didn’t mean for my collection to grow so fast, but,” his eye twinkled, “ah well. I like a full set, what can I say?”

Mac was staggering backwards, away from the mad man. He backed up against one of the cages, only for the person inside to lunge at him, clawing between the grates.

“Jumpy, aren’t we?” The man said, fingers ready to snap.

“No, please, no. Don’t - “

SNAP.

Mac fell to his knees, mouth open, like a zombie. He then dropped to his hands and began moping like a cow.

“Jesus Christ…” Kieran heard Jodie whisper, before she looked at him with survival in her eyes.

She pushed Kieran over and made a run for the exit.

SNAP.

She was two steps too slow.

She slowly stopped, before turning back inside and sitting down comfortably and lazily, like a panda or a sloth.

That brought the man’s attention to Kieran. The last one.

He stared in horror as his friends were turned into animals. And he knew he was next.

“Don’t you want to plead? Or grovel? Maybe try your luck at escaping. You look faster than your friend.” The man teased.

Kieran simply froze in place.

“Ah. Very well then. If it means anything, I don’t think there’s any shame in giving in to your more animal instincts. Prey knows when predator has it cornered.”

SNAP.

[testingthewatersss]

Questions Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture,  etc. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Oneshot 4800 words fluff, angst, comfort & kissing. 18+ MDNI  Bucky has questions. Questions he's sure she can answer. But she wont, and he thinks he knows why.

“Bucky” Y/N says, “Why are you askin’ me that?”

“Because” he replies, “I can’t ask anyone else.”

The look on his face is sad. She maintains eye contact for a minute before breaking it, averting her gaze to her desk, where she pointedly focuses on a bit of paper that is near enough blank.

“Please, doll?” he presses, “Please, just-”

“What do you want me to say?” she almost snaps, “James, I-”

“Please” he says again, softer this time, “Don’t call me that… Y’know I- I only get James when I’m in trouble.”

When she brings her eyes back to his, she can’t help but sigh, temper retreating like a wave.

“It’s a pretty nice name, y’know” she murmurs, “I don’t know why-”

“-Are you tryin’ to change the subject, darlin’?”

At least his smiling now, even if it’s tight lipped and forced.

She doesn’t deny his statement, just shrugs.

“My point stands” he hears her say, “It’s hardly a mouthful, I don’t know why you hate it so much-”

“I don’t hate it” Bucky counters, “It just reminds me of bein’ yelled at.”

“Have I ever yelled at you?” she quips quickly,

He shakes his head, letting out a slow breath.

“I just want to know” he says quietly, “I can’t just let it go”

“You really want me to tell you wether or not I think you could have gotten away sooner?” she clarifies, “You want me to stand here and tell you if you put up ‘enough of a fight’ in the beginning and then after all that you want me to-”

“make sure the words they put in my head don’t still work” he confirms, “Please, doll, I…I don’t have anyone else I can go to about this kind of stuff, can you imagine Steve’s face if I even tried to bring this up with him?”

For a second, she says nothing. She just stares, trying to read wether or not even considering his line of questioning is a step too far, and then, he reaches out to take hold of her hand and she feels her heart breaking.

“Please…” he whispers thickly, “…I want to know-”

“They’re not easy answers to give” she replies, imploring him to understand, “Bucky, that first question alone isn’t a simple yes or no, there are so many variables, I-”

“You” he mumbles, bringing her knuckles to his lips, “won’t lie to me, darlin’… I trust you, I love you and-”

“I love you to” she counters, “That, is exactly why you comin’ to me like this isn’t fair.”

He’s kissing across her fingers, and all she can do is grumble as she leans back against her desk;

“Do I think you could have gotten away sooner?” she echos, surrounding to his puppy dog eyes, “Physically? probably— They let you carry loaded guns, you were never in particularly bad shape, even if you’d been knocked around a bit— You probably could’ve bolted from a job, or fought your way out if you’d have timed it right, y’know?” he does know, so he nods, gut tightening uneasily, “but-” Y/N says, “just because you might’ve been able to get away, that doesn’t mean you ever stood a chance.”

Bucky feels his face dropping as she lets go of his palm, choosing to tuck her hair behind her ears instead-

“There was a reason they didn’t care about you carrying weapons” she continues, “they knew full well that you weren’t going to try anything, even when given the opportunity.”

He opens his mouth to speak, to ask her to be more decisive in her judgement, but she gets there first, crossing her arms across her chest as she carries on,

“and the reason they trusted that so much” she says, “is because, yes, Bucky, you put up a hell of a fight in the beginning— It wasn’t a one and done where they wiped you and that was that, it took months of them pullin’ you in and out of storage, of them messin’ with the tech, messin’ with you, before they decided that it was just about good enough to move on to any further training, and that, that was just the tip of the iceberg— I mean jesus, weird, torture bullshit, aside, you had at least 3 different trackers active on you— If you’d managed to run they’d have found you eventually. You cut that one out of your neck in Budapest—”

The old scar that’s hidden by his hair aches as she mentions it, and then, as she nods at his arm, he finds himself feeling awfully small,

“—I broke the unit they had in there, that thing was more than just a bug, it was hooked into your nervous system, and-”

“There was always one in the guns”

She nods, in agreement before falling silent again.

It’s a difficult topic to talk about. Y/N hates discussing anything about her own time with HYDRA, but, she still thinks she’d prefer that, to this.

Talking about the horrible things that have happened to the man she loves, seems unfathomably worse, somehow. It’s probably because even though she’d been there in person for the last five years of his time there, she knows that he was there for so long before that.

And then, she’d found herself having to paw through the book he’d brought back with them, having to read, and dissect every insidious detail of his history so that she could make sure that he was okay, now, that he wasn’t in danger—

and that had been bad enough, but, he’d asked her to do it, so she had, but now- now he’s starting to ask questions, and she can’t even be angry at him, because if anyone deserves answers he does.

“I don’t think I remember” he tells her, voice thick, “The beginning it… it’s real hazy—”

“I know” she agrees, smiling a little, “That’s probably a blessin-”

“—But, I think it’s comin’ back” he admits, forcing the words out before he can chicken out, “I- I think it… it might be- some, some of the dreams I’m havin’… It- it’s either not real or it’s just from real early on-”

That silences her. Her lack of interruption only highlights the way that Bucky’s words have drifted off into nothing.

He gulps, and finds himself shifting anxiously on his feet as he awaits her judgment.

She firmly decides to stay quiet. To let him digest what has already been said for a little while longer and to see if he’s going to expand on his own.

“Do you think you could tell me?” he asks eventually, “If… If things really happened or not?”

Again, she lets his question sit for a beat before she offers him a “Maybe” that he doesn’t know how to take.

“Maybe?” he echos, “Wha-”

“I don’t know everything” she tells him carefully, “I probably know enough to make a good guess on the things I’m not certain of, but wether I’d do that would depend on why you’re askin’ in the first place.”

Why I’m asking in the first place? he thinks, confused,

“I mean” she chuckles falsely, “honestly, I still don’t know why you’ve been asking me the questions you’ve already come up with”

“I just” he begins, “I… I want to know-”

“Why?” she presses, “Why, Buck? What does knowing wether or not you could’ve— maybe— in another reality gotten away sooner change? What does me telling you that you definitely fought back when they first started torturing you do? Does it make you feel better? Worse?—”

“No” he admits, “It… it’s not about that… how I feel, I mean”

“No?” Y/N says, “then what is it about, Buck? I get you wantin’ to check about the words— I know I’ve told you a hundred times that I’m sure— but, you wanting to check, to be a million percent certain? That, I can understand, but the rest of it? You’ve gotta help me out-”

“—I’m scared, doll—”

Bucky’s voice, and the blatant sincerity behind it makes her breath catch in her throat.

“—god,” he sighs, “—I’m terrified, I’m terrified that if I don’t ask you, then one day, one day soon you’re gonna start askin’ yourself and you’ll wonder if I, if I don’t care, and then, then I won’t be able to do anythin’ but watch as you realise that I could’ve done better and, you’ll— you’ll hate me, and I- I’ll lose you too, and I won’t be able to say a damn thing because it’ll be exactly what I deserve and, I—”

“-Stop.”

The natural authority in her tone makes his jaw snap shut. Anxiety driven rambling turning into silence;

Silence that Y/N allows to settle for a second as she tries to rationalise everything he’s just said—

“I’m sorry” Bucky offers nervously, running a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry, I- I’ll go— I’ll see you later, or, I, I can just… I can just go-”

“C’mere-” she counters, tone softening when she realises that he really is distraught, “What am I goin’ to do with you, huh?”

Her arms are open in invitation, and despite the way he’d been ready to turn and flee just a moment before, Bucky finds himself hiding against her a front in what feels like no time at all.

“Whatever you want” is the answer he gives to her question, though his words are muffled by the crook of her neck, “you can do whatever you want with me”

She chuckles at that, soft and light as she strokes a large circle across the back of his ribs.

They’re straining, he’s panting, and trying so hard to steady his breathing that she feels guilty about not approaching this in a more tactful way;

“How about we make a deal?” she suggests calmly, “How about, I’ll answer your questions, if you answer a few for me?”

“Okay” he agrees, not pulling away, “I… I can do that”

Y/N smiles, feeling his arms tightening around her waist in a silent display of attachment.

“When did you last sleep for more than fifteen minutes in a row?”

“1935” he grumbles, smiling a little when she laughs, “… probably last week, doll… usually… usually when I pass out I, I see things and I- I come round and I can’t settle again after that”

He’s being so blatantly honest that all Y/N can do is press a kiss against his brow, and wait for him to take his turn;

“.I… I don’t know what to ask”

That makes her chuckle again, eyes rolling even though he can’t see,

“and you had so many questions earlier” she teases gently, “Now I’m offerin’ to answer you can’t think of one?”

“I can think of plenty” he says, “Just don’t know where to start”

“How about” Y/N sighs, “you start with what’s botherin’ you most?”

“That ain’t a question…” he grumbles, “…Do… Do you think I could’ve done more? to, y’know… stop everythin’ that happened?”

“No” she says honestly, “No, Bucky, I don’t think there was anything you could’ve done to stop any part of what happened.”

“But, I-”

“You wanted an answer” she cuts in, “Not a debate, now it’s my turn.”

She’s right, so he nods, settling back into an unhappy silence,

“Do you really think that I’m going to suddenly wake up one morning and realise something that makes me ‘hate’ you?”

“Yes” he gulps anxiously, “Yeah”

She doesn’t say anything else. His reply just sits in her chest like a lead weight, as he continues to hide himself against her front,

“Do you?” he asks after a pause, “Do- Do you think that you might… do, do that?”

“No” she says, “Of course not—I could never hate you, Bucky”

“but-”

This time, she barely has to tut before he catches himself and swallows his objection,

“Do you believe me when I tell you that I love you?”

“…Yeah…” he says honestly, “…yeah I do, I- I just don’t understand how you could… or, or why you ever would…”

“Isn’t that up to me?”

“It’s not your turn, doll”

She scoffs at that, but doesn’t argue.

“Why do you?” Bucky asks next, “Why do you love me? after… after everything”

That’s a sad question really, but still Y/N feels a smile blooming across her face as she starts to consider every single reason she has; and then, it falters when she realises that putting them into words might be a problem,

“Christ, Buck, you’re not makin’ this easy on me…” she murmurs, “There are so many reasons… You’re kind, and sweet— you’re so, so sweet, and you make me laugh, you’ve always made me laugh, and, I- I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as brave, or gentle as you are…”

It’s so clear that he needs to hear her kind words that she suddenly can’t bare the thought of stopping,

“You’re thoughtful” she says next, “You’re smart— brilliant, really, without even havin’ to try— you’re… you’re just so good, y’know?… You’re a truly good person, down to your core, and I know that you always try and do the right thing, and see that goodness in other people, even when it’s not there—”

“But the things I-”

“You” she cuts in, not wanting to even hear his argument, “didn’t do a damn thing wrong. This whole thing was always bigger than you, but it's fair that you miss that sometimes.”

He does. He misses it all the time;

“But everything that happened” he mumbles, “all those people are dead because of me”

Y/N shakes her head, chest aching.

“No” she says, “those people are dead because HYDRA decided they needed to die— You just happened to be the weapon they liked using most at the time.”

He doesn’t reply, he just nuzzles in impossibly closer to her front as she lets her chin rest against the top of his bowed head.

“My turn again, huh?” she murmurs, “…How long have you spent worryin’ about all this?”

“all this?” he echos, uncertain of her meaning, “I… I’ve always been worried ‘bout you realisin’ that you deserve better than me, doll, that- that’s not new.”

“It’s ridiculous” she counters, “You deserve the world— but I mean this, specifically— How long have you been worrin’ about talkin’ to me about things you’re remembering just incase it makes me realise that you’re actually some evil monster and-"

“Ever since you wouldn’t answer me the first time” he confesses, “when I asked you about… about if you thought I could’ve done more to get away, and you wouldn’t tell me I… I figured it was because you knew deep down that I… I should’ve done better and I… I tried to stop thinkin’ about it like you said but it… it kept eatin’ at me, and the more I asked—”

“The more I didn’t want to answer, and the more likely the whole thing seemed.”

He nods against her shoulder, and she can’t help but press a kiss into his hair,

“I didn’t mean to annoy ya’, darlin’…” he says, “I, I really didn’t but I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop thinking about it, when you, when you wouldn’t tell me what you thought I was sure there had to be a reason…”

“I’m sorry” she says honestly, “I didn’t think you’d take it that way, I should’ve been clearer about why I didn’t want to talk about it”

“Why didn’t you?” he asks, “Answer, I mean? I… I’ve asked you things before and you… you’ve always answered me”

“Because” Y/N sighs, “I know you, and I know how easy it is for you to blame yourself for situations you had no control over… You do it all the time, and I love you, Buck… I love you and seeing you be so hard on yourself is bad enough without me piling on hypothetical situations that could only ever make it worse”

For a few seconds, there’s silence. Bucky’s arms are still tight around her waist and if she tries, she can feel his pulse rushing anxiously through his body,

“I know you forget that nothing that happened was down to you” she allows, “and I don’t mind reminding you— I really don’t, but, I really don't want to start goin’ into all the different ‘what if scenarios’ that you’re mind can cook up, because that… that’s a hell of a box to open”

“It feels like it was…” he tells her weakly, “It feels like it was all my fault, doll, all of it, it… it’s like I should’ve stopped it somehow, like— like I… like I could’ve just woken up and, and made myself not-”

“But you couldn’t” she inserts, “Sweetheart, you couldn’t just wake up, and even if you had? If by some, bizarre twist of fate you’d have been able to snap out of it and fight back? They’d have just started from scratch, either with you, if they could bring you back in, or with someone else, if they’d have just decided to kill you instead.”

“Do you think I could’ve made them do that?” he wonders, “Kill me, I mean?”

“Is it your turn?” Y/N asks, trying to lighten the atmosphere, “I’ve lost count”

“I don’t know” he mumbles, “I hope so”

She chuckles at that, shaking her head,

“No” she says, “I don’t think there is anything you could’ve done that would’ve made them kill you— not when finding you in the first place was like striking gold in a coal mine.”

“Can I ask what you mean by that, or do I have to wait?”

Y/N laughs again, soft and airy as she pulls back a little so that he can finally pull back and reveal his face.

“You are a good person” she tells him, reaching up to cup his cheek, “Really, Buck— You’re good, all the way through— It’s why they had to keep you, because that kind of genuine goodness isn’t somethin’ that you find often. The serum proved that there wasn’t a bad bone in your body, it magnifies everything it touches, you know about ‘Red Skull’— you know what putting that stuff into someone who’s not decent can do, so… you landing right in their laps, already dosed up and ready to go? that was something that was never going to happen again”

He’s starring at her, hanging on every word she’s saying, so, instead of waiting for him to ask her to expand, she just sighs, brushing her thumb under his eyes.

“You can’t torture evil out of somebody” she says, “no amount of pain or electricity can make a person better, so, even if they had managed to get a never ending supply of the serum, it never would’ve worked out because they’d have still needed subjects who didn’t have an ounce of malice in them, who didn’t want to be powerful, or dangerous, or anything other than decent and I think even they knew that wasn’t going to happen, and that… that’s why they spent so long making sure they kept you how they wanted, and that's why all of those other Winter Solider's never got more than a few hours out of tank at a time. They had no idea what might start to happen.”

“So if I… if I had made them kill me, then they… they wouldn’t have been able to-”

He sounds so genuinely guilty that all Y/N can do is continue stroking his face as she shakes her head, again;

“I don’t think they would’ve ever just killed you, and if they had? or if something had happened out of their control? Then they wouldn’t have given up— They’d have gone through thousands of people trying to find one that worked to replace you.”

Bucky’s brow is furrowed, both his hands still around the back of her waist. He doesn’t want to let go, he wants to stay close, and despite the way he’s trying to not be so obvious about his need for skin on skin, he knows that he’s pressing his cheek into her palm;

“I know it didn’t feel like it” she murmurs, “but they were real careful with you, sweetheart— They spent so much time in the beginning making sure that their tech worked- tailoring it to you, y’know? and makin’ sure that everything from the fall was patched up so that even when they hurt you your heart was never going to give out or anything like that”

“In the beginning…” he parrots, “…later on, when… when I’d been there a while, did… did the tech stop workin’? is, is that why I, why I…”

“No” she whispers softly, “The tech worked how it always did, they just didn’t factor in the fact that you were going to be off ice so much”

He blinks, confused and she can’t help but smile,

“They called them wipes” he hears Y/N explain, “but that’s not what they were, you can’t just erase somebodies personality, not with all the electricity and torture in the world… all you can do, is make someone obedient, you can make good men do bad things, and sometimes if you’re trying really hard you can alter the conscious mind— you can make it so someone can’t fathom fighting back, or questioning what you’ve convinced them is reality, but even that doesn’t last indefinitely— it needs maintenance, y’know? upkeep, because human minds aren’t hard drives that can be reset whenever someone feels like it.”

“They’d… they’d say I was unstable…” he recalls, “..Like when… when I saw Steve on the bridge I- I didn’t understand but I- I knew, that… that I he knew me and they… they wiped me straight away-”

“Well yeah” she chuckles grimly, “They couldn’t let something that major slide”

“and when I’d was bein’ brought out of storage they’d.. they’d usually bring me right to the chair?”

That’s definitely a question, Y/N can tell by the unsure quirk in his voice.

“Yeah, baby” she confirms, “that’s right”

“I… I hated that chair, I- I still… god, I- I still dream about it sometimes… even, even just the door to the room it was in, I, I see myself walking towards it, I- I feel the way my heart is racing…”

“Nobody” she whispers, “Nobody is ever, ever, going to hurt you like that again, you know that, right?”

The nod he gives her is a reflex. He’s so used to agreeing to statements like that, that it’s automatic, and it’s only when he meets Y/N’s gaze that he takes a second to consider wether or not it’s truthful;

“I forget, sometimes” he allows, “but, I trust you, and I know it’s safe here”

She seems to like that, she smiles and brings her fingers back across his cheek, stroking his face like he’s precious,

“It’s very safe…” she agrees, “…You, are very safe.”

“I’m sorry, doll”

That takes her by surprise. She’s not sure where his apology has come from, and she’s already shaking her head to refute it when he starts speaking again,

“I didn’t mean to force you to talk about all of this, I- I know you didn’t want to answer me and I, I should’ve just respected—”

“You can always talk to me” she counters, “about anything— anything at all, Bucky- I just want to make sure that we’re not makin’ you feel worse, not if we can help it.”

He nods, and presses a kiss against the pad of her thumb.

“What would you like to do now, huh?” Y/N asks gently, “we can do whatever you feel like.”

Bucky stays quiet for a beat, working up the courage to make his suggestion,

He already knows what he wants to do, he just don’t know if asking her to do it is pushing his luck, considering how she’s indulged him so much already;

“Could… could you try the… the words?” he asks eventually, “Please? just so, so I know…”

Her instinct is to refuse. To delay for right now, if not forever, but then she sees his face, she sees the need, and longing and, and then she finds herself nodding, even though she’s not sure quite when she decided to say yes.

“C’mere” she murmurs, “Close your eyes for me— FRIDAY, lock us in for right now.”

Bucky does as he’s told, slipping his hands into her back pockets as the room dissolves into blackness.

“Ready?” she checks- he nods, nervously, so she leans in and presses a kiss against his brow, “Tell me if it hurts, and I’ll stop.”

He knows what kind of pain she means, so he nods, bracing himself to feel his head burning, to feel incredible, pulsing pressure building inside his skull—

“Semnadtsat’… Rzhavyye…. Dozhd’…” her soft voice begins, slow and stable as ever, “…Pustyye…. Nad…. Vnevremennyye….”

He’s tense, and shaking.

He’s honestly, totally ready for something terrible to happen, for his whole brain to collapse inwards as he loses his grip on… on everything other than pain and whatever instructions he’s given— He finds himself thinking about how even if that did happen, at least it’s Y/N he’s with, at least she won’t make him do anything terrible— He’s about to tell her how grateful he is, that she’s always been so good to him, but then, he realises it’s over, she’s not talking anymore, and all he can hear is the violent, panicked thrash of his pulse in his ears.

“See?” Y/N says, almost smugly, “I told you…Nothin’…”

“Ready to comply” Bucky says, aiming for an impression of his former self, "gotov podchinit’sya”

“Oh yeah?” she laughs, pressing her lips against the corner of his mouth, “You gonna do what I tell ya’ for once?”

“Maybe” he mumbles, trying earnestly to coax another kiss from her, “depends on if I'd wind up regretting it later”

“You are full of shit, Barnes—” she chuckles, teasing him with the promise of more affection by letting her nose bump against his, “Have I ever asked you to do anythin’ you’d regret?”

“No” he promises quickly, “No, doll I- I’m just teasin’…”

“Good” she purrs, pecking at his cheek before pulling him closer, so their fronts are touching, “Do you feel better now that’s cleared up?”

He nods, feeling himself blushing.

“Yeah, I- I do, doll”

“Good” she says again, “I’m glad, sweetheart— Did you feel anythin’?”

Her hands are on his cheeks, now— both of them, cupping his jaw as her thumbs brush across his temples.

“No” he whispers, feeling incredible vulnerable under her consideration, “I was… I was nervous, but- but it didn’t feel like I thought it might…”

“It’s been awhile” she says, “If we’d have tried it a couple of weeks ago you might’ve ended up with a migraine, but, I think you’re so far out now that anxiety is the worst you’ll come away with.”

She doesn’t want to downplay that, anxiety is still more than he deserves, but given the situation, it’s definitely better than the alternatives.

“Thank you” he mumbles, head lolling over to the side as she starts to card his hair back, “Doll, for… for humourin’ me with all if this…”

“I think I'm indulging more than humouring” she corrects lightly, “but it's fine, next time you feel like playin' 20 questions just give me a heads up, this version made it impossible to cheat”

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