#a lot of these turned out to be angsty whoops-

[walmartbrandwhatever]

cherry and marcia hcs because I love them so dearly.

they met when they were 6 at a park. cherry was sitting alone on a bench and marcia being afraid of nothing just sat down and started yapping.

Marcia used to be afraid of nothing except for storms. whenever there was a storm she would curl up in the corner of her room and cry.

her parents weren't around much, both working to hard to keep the life they had built so her house was often empty.

cherry having a not so good home environment would spend days upon days at marcias and they would just hang out.

cherry was the quiet popular girl who did her work but when she was at marcias house they would talk the most shit and about drama going around the school.

cherry is really good at doing other people's hair, and it's something she quite enjoys doing. someday, when things get too stressful, Marcia will let Cherry just mess with her hair as they sit in silence or talk about what's bothering her.

Marcia used to roller skate a lot when she was younger but stopped when she reached highschool and started to worry more about her staus.

cherry lowkey hates oranges. she hates anything to do with them while marcia LOVES them.

on the days where they were practicing for rodeos they find a way to fuck with eachother.

they had a game where they had gotten this small little figure and have made it a game to place it somewhere on eachother and whoever has it has to try to get it to the other person without them noticing. the last time they played marcia got it to cherry(I'm gonna come back to this later)

once they reached high school, Cherry had met Bob in her math class. at first they didn't really talk but after being paired together during class they sort of just hit it off.

Marcia and Bob? did NOT hit it off. they started unsure of each other and then turned to them, not liking each other.

there was one day where bob and marcia had ended up alone waiting for the rest of there friends and marcia got to see the true version of bob Sheldon that had been pushed down deep.

he had started talking about the stars, going into detail about the ones he knew and how important they were to him. no matter what changed in his life or the little amount of actual love he got from his family they stayed a constant. a reminder that there were nice things that even he could see.

Marcia before would have never expected it from someone like him but it made her look at him with a different light. only for a little while because that was the only time she had ever seen that side of him. after that he went back to the bob Sheldon she had known. the bob Sheldon who hated her just as much as she hated him.

Marcia was considered a weird girl who was simply friends with Cherry Valance. that didn't bother her much up until that point.

Marcia hated how Bob treated Cherry like some sort of trophy. Cherry had always told her that he wasn't like that and that he was real kind and she didn't need to worry.

the weeks when Cherry would spend hours at Marcias turned into just a few days, focusing her time on Bob which didn't hurt Marcia.

she understood that a d she respected it. she spent most of her time with bev, brill, and trip. she learned a lot with them and learned that something were better kept hidden than out.

her parents had very different ways of thinking. her father grew up with a single father who didn't have much taught her to fit in and roam with the crowd because that's how you got successful while her mother grew up with a rich family who was cold and uncaring. she taught marcia to stick up for herself and to trust those who are her true friends.

Marcia often battled between what her parents wanted her to be. she wants to make her father proud, but she doesn't want to disappoint her mother, who always taught her to be kind and true to herself.

reaching highschool she learned real quick between the difference of social class and how she needed to fit in if she wanted to make it to graduation.

Bev had told her that she needed to stop "acting so weird, you'll never get someone if you act like that," and marcia had laughed in her face then. Bev, that day, wasn't too happy with her, nearly cost her the spot she had within the small group. she learned that day to take most things with a smile and that things would be easier if she just kept others happy.

Cherry had been spending time with Bob, the nights where they both just needed to escape from their lives, the would drive Bob's car out to a reserved place and just look at the stars.

the first time Bob got real drunk she had freaked the fuck out because she would not be with someone who ended up like her father.

he the next day had showed up at her house with flowers and with an apology. she practically melted into his arms after she explained to him why she had freaked. he had promised that it wouldn't happen again, though he never kept that promise, leading to her snapping at the nightly double.

Cherry post cannon distanced herself from all the socs for the most part. she only really stayed connected to chet and somewhat marcia.

the two grew apart for a little bit as Marcia battled with the pressure of her parents and with the ideas of social class.

one night marcia just completing broke down in front of her parents. they talked for hours after that, working through their problems and how she had been feeling. her parents had always loved her, she knew that but her father rarely showed any emotion and her mother too busy fighting with her own family to realize how her own family was falling apart.

the next day Marcia asked Cherry to talk and they did. Marcia apologized from practically everything that had happened andthey both made a promise to be better, to talk things out no matter how they felt.

that's all I have rn but please feel free to add in the comments or in my inbox 🙏 also trust I'm just feeding yall until I finish this fic.

[ambrosiagoldfish]

Adam x third spouse part 3 I’m begging pookie ❤️

like a time skip to when Charlie appeared and proposed the idea

Benifit of the doubt Pt.4

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Warnings: General Adam TW’s, a little bit sad for a moment but it’s ok. Gn! Reader! honestly that’s about it I think?? Wow this is the first time it’s been this short in this series.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Request Box: Open

Word Count: 4617~

A/n: So… it’s been almost 2 months… whoops. In all seriousness though I’m sorry it’s been so long. I’ve just not been in the mood to write and a lot of stuff has been happening (which is finally over) and I’m glad I could finally post this. I was also, if I’m honest, nervous to post this, cause I’m not sure if everyone’s ready for the direction of the story. But I have made it clear that I wanted to do a time skip to the show at somepoint and decided to do it now! If you enjoy this, please let me know cause I’m really nervous about (Not my words of affirmation love language coming out-) ALSO to the requester, I know you said part 3, but I used it for part 4. I got your request as I was making part 3 soooo my bad. Hope you don’t mind tho <3 this will be the last part before the angsty finale (and maybe an epilogue)

Reblogs are always appreciated!

Anyways this was NOT beta read unfortunately, I tried to get as many errors out during the writing process so hopefully it’s fine. Also, there’s probably some words I might have wanted to italicize or make bold that aren’t, but I’m too tired to care honestly.

Tags: @tired-of-life-86 @nervoussystemss @qopia @lovelyemily @hcneyiced @v3r41ynn @ghostdoodlen @nxptvne-13 @ximenavc-che @edgyfluff @ericityyy @diffidentphantom @faimmm @slasher-whore69 @1-randomized @ozzersauce @fanlovedlt @alientee (if I forgot someone or you want to be added just tell me !!)

Days turned to weeks, to months, to years. Until eventually an eon had passed. An entirety filled to the brim with an indescribable happiness and love, threatening to spill over at any given moment. You loved Adam and Adam loved you.

To say it was all happiness would be a lie, there were some moments of sadness and pain, but all relationships were like that, even ones that lasted for eternity. You both always bounced back, apologize and moved on with a stronger bond than before. And you loved every second of it.

A lot has changed in these last few eons. Adam formed a band and is now the most popular guitarist in all of heaven. You both made new friends, some got into heaven while others were made there. Emily was one of these people to you, she looked up to you for being older than her. You’ve existed for almost all of human existence so, of course she’d look up to you.

Adam had also made new friends, his band members, some officials in heaven, but someone he’s grown close to recently was Lute. You're really happy about his friendship with Lute. She seems like a strong and loyal friend, someone that can keep him grounded while still encouraging him to be more himself. Overall, you really liked her.

How they became friends though is something… less tasteful for you. All the way back when Heaven and Hell had their first meeting on what to do with the surplus of sinners in hell causing an uprising. Neither side came to an agreement in the end, you do feel partially to blame for that, but you still stand by what you did.

You never returned to any of the follow up meetings

But Adam did, surprisingly to you. In the end, you were called to talk with Sera and Adam. You were told of the agreement between Heaven and Hell, about the yearly “cleanse” that Adam and his “Exorcists” would have to commit. At first you were shocked, sure, you didn’t have the best experience with sinners and especially with the rulers of hell, but was death really necessary? You didn’t know what to say, and Adam clearly saw this.

“Babe, you alright?” He puts his hand on your shoulder rubbing his thumb in circles. You place your hand on his.

“Yeah it’s just a lot to take in. Are we sure it has to be done… that way?”

Sera looked down in pain “they’re… uprising and are becoming to much of a threat to heaven.”

You sighed as Adam took you in his arms. Adam was fully aware that you don’t share the same sentiment towards sinners as he does. His hatred towards the unholy souls down in hell was brought about by events that you simply cannot understand. Which he is thankful for, he never would want you to experience what he did.

“If there isn’t anything else we can do then… I guess we have no choice. But I don’t want to… kill anyone, even if they are sinners.”

Adam holds you closer “You won’t have to,” you smile at him, the now familiar flickering of his LED mask meeting your gaze before softly frown “you ok?”

You nod, “yeah, just…I wish there was another way.”

-

That was it. Adam would take his exorcists down to hell to kill as many sinners as they could each year. Adam knew you didn’t want him to talk about it , he kept it as separate as he could from your life. You did have to attend meetings regarding it, as one of the very few people to know about it, that was your duty.

You were fine with having that part of the job. You weren't sure if you could kill someone, sinner or not. So, for the countless years to follow, you played your part with every new extermination, attending meetings to deal with the repercussions of each cleanse.

Adam would also have to attend the occasional meeting. Which is exactly what today was. Sera had called you both in to talk.

“Thank you both for coming. I have to inform you that you will be attending a meeting tomorrow.”

Adam groaned “What! Again? This is like the 4th fuckin’ one this week! Ugh fine! Where is it this time? halo city? Cherub towne” Adam’s voice mocked the locations you’ve both been sent to countless times with a high pitched voice. Even you have to admit that the meetings could drag a bit.

Sera's face turned into a slight grimace as she looks away from you both, she sighs and continues “The meeting will be in… hell.”

“What!” Both your voices raise in shock

“Sera, you know I don’t want to go down there again!”

“Why can’t you just send the other fucking dipshits who know about-“ Adam crossed his arms defiantly

“Stop,” Sera raises her hand toward you both “no one wants to go there, and I know you both especially don’t.” She pauses “But you both are the only available angels who know of the cleanse that aren't busy. Please… I understand your disdain but heaven’s business comes first.”

“Who are we even gonna be talking to -Wait a damn minute- Don’t fucking tell me we have to talk to him.”

“I'm sorry…” You all sat in silence for a moment before Sera begins to speak again, “But you both won’t have to worry about physically being there, we have prepared holograms for you, so neither of you would be in any danger.”

“I'll have an Angel escort you to the ‘meeting’ room tomorrow, please, get some rest. I’m sure you both have had a long day.”

With that, you and Adam went home, you were definitely not feeling well about the meeting, but the fact you wouldn’t actually be there calms your nerves a bit. You had to be a little honest with yourself, hell wasn’t really the issue for you, it was more so the people. Lucifer for one, that made you feel uneasy.

The next morning, you and Adam got ready, you had to motivate him a little. He was clearly not excited for this meeting like you. The entire way there he held you close, even though nothing could have hurt you it made him feel better knowing how close you were.

On the way there, you also got Adam some ribs, his favorite. You thought it would help his nerves a bit. Turns out, Lute was the one Sera assigned to escort you both there. That also made you both a little calmer knowing a mutual friend would be there.

The three of you waited in the ‘meeting’ room for a while, about an hour. At first you thought the meeting might had been canceled or moved and you just weren't told. But then, Lute walked up to you both.

“Sir! The Seraphim has told me to inform you that there’s been a change in plans!”

“What? The fucks that mean?” Adam said stuffing a rib into his LED mouth

“Lucifer won’t be attending the meeting, instead… his Daughter will be here in his stead.” Lute’s mask showed a continuous frown and stern expression as she spoke.

“Daughter?” Your voice shook a little. This was news to you, as long as you’ve existed you had never heard he had a daughter while in hell. You look over to Adam to see His LED eyes were wide in shock but his mask turned into a smile as he sighed.

“Phew boy, we sure dodged a big ass bullet, huh Sweetcheeks?” He laughed as his arm pulled you closer. The whole thing caused you to join in. Suddenly your nerves felt a lot better than before.

“When should she be arriving, Lute?”

“Within the hour.”

-

Adam scarfed down another plate of ribs as you all wait for the “princess of hell” to arrive. The entire time you just had to wonder what kind of person she’d be. The daughter of Lucifer and Lilith. The more you thought about it, the more bizarre it seemed.

But suddenly your thoughts were interrupted by the sliding doors opening to the meeting room and a girl steps in, asking if anyone is there.

“She can’t see us?”

“Yeah, Sera gave me a long ass lector on how this stuff works before we got here. Let’s see here…” Adam pushes a button causing a click to sound out as he says “Sup!”

The girl jumps back and falls to the floor, shocked by Adam’s sudden appearance in the room. She introduces herself as Charlie. Adam offers her to shake his hand, only for it to go through.

“Ha! I fuckin’ got you! Did you fucking see that? Good shit.”

You let out a slight laugh, as you sit and watch the meeting happen. Well, you say “meeting” but nothing about it seemed very professional. Adam for the last hour (you honestly wasn’t sure at this point) had been talking about the most random of things.

You or Lute occasionally shakening your head yes or no while listening to him, while Charlie seemed quite tired already. Not that you could blame her, people who weren’t used to Adam’s banter definitely weren’t cut out for it. But You love every word that comes out of his mouth.

Eventually Adam decides that it’s time to get into what you all came here for. Pulling out a bunch of papers, Charlie begins explaining her solution to hell’s overpopulation. You were only really half listening at first, at least before she mentioned that her solution could stop the extermination which peaked your interest.

She explains her “Hazbin Hotel” and its purpose to rehabilitate sinners, you wanted to hear more of it but Adam cut her off.

The meeting didn’t really go that well, At least for Charlie. But the whole thing left quite the impression on you. The idea of ending the extermination was stuck in your head for so long, and now you had someone who had an alternative.

“Adam, are you sure that it couldn’t have worked?”

Adam looks at you in surprise “What? Do you think that shitshow could have actually worked?” He laughed as he placed a hand on your back. “Don’t even pay it any mind, alright Babe?”

“I know, it’s just… you know I don't like the extermination. So another way to lessen the population of hell should at least be looked into.” Your voice was soft enough to barely hear.

Adam’s gaze softened but he didn’t say another word, only wrapping his wing around you pulling you closer. You lean towards him, snuggling into his soft robe. No matter how much you wanted to ignore it, you couldn’t. You needed to do something, anything.

So that night, after Adam fell asleep, you asked to talk with Sera. Leaving a note for Adam saying you went to buy something just in case he woke up.

“What is troubling you?” Sera’s voice was clear and concise.

You looked toward the ground, your nerves feeling tighter than ever, as you struggled with how to put your words together. “You're aware of all that happened in the meeting with Lucifer’s Daughter, right?”

Sera nods her head “of course, all meetings are documented about as they happen.” She tilts her head slightly “What about it?”

“Well!” You steel yourself before continuing “I would like permission to observe Charlie Morningstar’s ‘Hazbin Hotel’”

Sera’s eyes widen, breaking her calm demeanor before giving a firm “No”

“But-“

“It’s too dangerous for you to be there, Adam wouldn’t want that anyways”

“He would listen if it was an order from you!” Your eyes felt watery but you continued “Please Sera… I know you don’t want the extermination to continue. Just let me do this!”

Sera looked away from you, her feelings evident on her face, any mask now down. ‘Just a little more’ you thought

“Sera, I promise you, I’ll be careful! We don’t even have to fully support them yet, just let me observe them. It would be devastating if so many souls parish if we failed to seek all options!” You beg

Sera sighed, shakingly “…I’ll see what I can do.”

Your eyes gleamed up at the tall woman “Sera, thank you, thank you!” You wanted to hug her but out of courtesy, you advised against it.

Sera tells you that she can’t guarantee anything but she will try as she sends you home to rest.

-

A few days past after that and you haven’t heard anything from Sera. It was a little worrying and felt like a bad sign to you. That was, until you were informed by Sera that your request was accepted!

“But.” Sera stops you before you can celebrate “You're only there to keep track of the progress and to make sure nothing is happening under our noses” You nod your head in understanding

“Also…” she pauses “If anything involving this hotel happens, you will have to take full responsibility, understood?”

You nod again “yes I understand. Have you… told Adam yet?”

She shakes her head

“Ok… can you… not tell him it was my idea, please. I don’t think he’d agree if he knew.”

Sera sighs before nodding her head “Very well, I’ll tell him after you leave”

“Thank you.”

-

You return home, when you got back Adam was already gone, Sera must have already called him to the office. You dreaded when he got back. You didn’t want to see him upset, it hurt you to know how worried he was for you.

A few hours later, Adam comes through the door in a panic. He stomps up to you and pulls you into a warm and intense embrace.

“Don’t go down there. I need you here with me” his voice hitches as his wings wrap around you both, curling you both into a warm and feathery ball.

“Adam…” you paused, was this really the best thing to do? No, It had to be. If this goes well, not only will the extermination stop but Adam wouldn’t have to go down to hell ever again.

“Adam, you know I can’t go against Sera’s orders.” You kiss his cheek “and I won’t be gone forever, I’m only supposed to be there till the next cleanse. Not to mention, I’ll always come back to see you.”

Adam grumbled a little “I know, I just… don’t like you being in the same place that bastard is, and in his brat’s stupid hotel! ”

You laugh softly “Adam…” grabbing his hand, you put yours in it, showing off the gold ring on your finger “I’ll never forget my promise. You know that, right?”

Adam looks at the ring, the gold wrapped around your finger with a perfectly snug fit. Everytime he looked at it was just a reminder of your love for him. That promise was something he could never forget. He slowly raises your hand to his LED mask, kissing the back of it. “Of course not.”

“Good. I promise I’ll be fine, ok?”

He nods. Hand in hand, you slowly lead you both to the bed. The both of you lay next to each other, your bodies linked together like knots. You slwoly remove his helmet from his head, laying it on the nightstand.

Your hands move up his body before landing on his face, cupping his cheeks before pulling him to a kiss before snuggling into his chest.

-

Finally it was Time for you to leave. Sera allowed you to create portals back to heaven in case anything happened and you were in need of assistance. Adam walked you to the front gate.

“Ok, do you have everything? You didn’t forget that fucking angelic dagger I had Lute get for you right-“

You shush him “Adam, I told you I’ll be fine!”

He’s sighs “Damn it- I know that but just make sure to text me while your there ok-

You kiss him deeply “Adam. I know, you’ve told me a hundred times.” You smile as you cup his face “I love you”

He sighs “Love you too Sweetcheeks”

With one final kiss, you give Adam a tight hug before waving goodbye as you went through the flaming portal. As you went through, you take a second to look at your surroundings. In front of you was a tall building. You take a few steps back to see LED lights of a sign flashing the words ‘Hazbin Hotel’

You let out a sigh of relief. You had been a tad bit worried you’d spawn somewhere random and you’d have to find the building yourself. But it seems heaven at least spared you of that.

The red skies of hell were quite different from the pristine blue ones of heaven. Even though you just got here, you could already hear the sounds of screams and explosions in the distance. How welcoming.

You steel yourself and with three hard knocks to the door, you wait for someone to open it. Muffled Scurrying sounds of footsteps approach the door before it creaks open revealing the young blond woman in the doorframe, Charlie Morningstar.

“Hi! I’m-“

The door is slammed shut, Before opening again

“Be not afraid-“

It shuts again…

Well, this may be a bit harder than you initially anticipated. You go to knock again only for it to open once more. This time, the door doesn’t close again, instead the girl mutters a quick “Hi” before going quiet.

“Hello! I didn’t mean to scare you!” You give a small laugh before continuing “I believe we met a couple days ago?” You bring your hand towards her for a shake, to which she reciprocates.

“During the meeting with.. Adam? Right?” She grimaced when she mentioned Adam, which you decided to ignore, you simply smiled and nodded. ”but I don’t believe I caught your name?”

You tell her about yourself, about how your there to stay and monitor any progress the hotel may have. You made sure to pronounce ‘may.’ While you were hoping for this idea to show some kind of positive results, even you weren’t sure if it’d would work.

“Charlie? who’s at the door- WhatHolyShit-“ a woman with a red X over her eye suddenly shouts in surprise. You look over at her, She looked very familiar…

“Wait, you are-“

“Vaggie! Charlie’s sinner girlfriend! And you are?!” The woman known as Vaggie, highlighted the word sinner while performing a “be quiet” gesture with her hand. Your eyes widen a little at the ex-Angel in front of you but you simply smile a nod “I’m Y/n, I don’t believe we’ve met, yes?”

Look, lying is the last thing you’d want to do as a citizen of heaven but you figured that it would be fine if it was to protect someone. Vaggie nodded, her face scrunched up in a tense look.

“You feeling ok Vaggie? You’re looking a little… red?”

“I’m fine! *ahem*, Hun, how about you give them a tour of the hotel.”

Charlie gasped “Yes that's perfect, you may as well get acquainted with everyone if you’re going to be here more often!”

Charlie ran off, telling you “this way! This way!” Over and over. Before you went to follow her, you leaned toward Vaggie and said a quick “Relax, I won’t tell anyone.”

She lets out a sigh before muttering “Thank you”

You both follow Charlie as she shows you the various rooms in the hotel before leading you back to the hotel’s lobby and lounge area.

“Hey! Hello everyone!” Charlie’s voice picked up a little “I’d like to introduce you to our uh… new staff member?” You nod in agreement with the title. The room in front of you was shrouded in looks of both horror and amazement.

“What the hell’s an angel doin’ here?” A lanky spider demon spoke up first

“It’sss an ambush! seek Cover!!” The Snake demon shouted, seemingly grabbing an army helmet from thin air before taking a deep dive behind the couch.

“No Pentious-” She sighs “they’re here to monitor the hotel! Heaven sent them to scout any potential progress the hotel will have”

“It’s nice to meet you all” you look at the people in front of you, to say it was a colorful cast would be an understatement.

“These two are our current tenants of the hotel! Angel dust and Sir Pentious!”

The snake slithered slowly from behind the couch up to you, while the Spider demon remained rested on the couch

“Oh… *ahem* Excuse me dear! I am Sir. Pentious! Formally known as ‘the Architect of destruction’!” He laughs, a slight hiss sounding in his voice.

He offers a handshake which you accept. To which you immediately regret. ‘ Slimey’ you thought, before wiping your, now wet hand on your clothes.

The spider demon, who you now know as Angel Dust, just gives a wave with one of his 4 arms.

“And-“ Charlie extends the word as she quickly walk to a bar by the entrance “this is the recreational area, run by our Bartender, Husk!”

The winged bartender seemed entirely uninterested in your presence or even Charlie’s. The most you got was a small glance before he takes a swig of his alcohol and walks off.

“He’s not the most… social guy in hell” she awkwardly laughs before moving on to the next person. “And this is Nifty, our one and only maid at the hotel! Nifty say hi.”

The short woman scurried moved around you, her eye quickly looking at every every nook and cranny of you as she moved. She made numerous attempts to touch and grab various things on you, your clothes, wings, and eventually she tried to climb up you to get to your halo. That’s when you finally grabbed her in place “you're a… fast one, huh? Nice to meet you!”

“And last but not least! This is Alastor, the hotel’s executive producer and our first -and only- overlord sponsor!”

Immediately, you could tell there was something off about Alastor. The entire aura he gave off was as if he was restraining something completely and utterly ungodly. The static that surrounded him was just one of many whispers you could hear from his soul.

“Hello! It’s quite a pleasure to meet someone of your… holy status!” He offers a hand to which you, hesitantly, shake. “And what do we owe the pleasure for your service?”

“They’re going to be here to keep track of the progress of the hotel…” Charlie paused “you know I’m starting to sound like a broken record- here, it’s late, how about we all get some sleep and we can talk about it in the morning!”

“Fine by me, I am waaay too sober to be having social interaction this late” Angel picks himself up and stretches “I’m gonna hit the hay”

“Here I’ll show you to your room!” Charlie smiles “We -obviously- didn’t have time to make your own so I hope you don’t mind using one of the guest rooms” she laughs

She and Vaggie walks you to your new room before leaving you be, The room was nothing more than just your average hotel room. Of course it did have its differences, a multitude of… eyes seem to be on the wall, staring at you. Well, that’s not the least alarming.

You place your stuff down and begin unpacking, you mostly just brought the basics. Clothes, hygiene stuff, your phone, and, most importantly, a framed photo of Adam.

You sat the photo on your nightstand, angling it just right so that it would always be visible to you. As you do so, you think about the memory the photo brings, you took it on one of the first dates you went on with Adam. It was a relatively tame date, you and Adam, having a picnic by a lake at night. You brought candles so you both weren’t completely in the dark, and you just loved the way he looked, his golden eyes watching the water. The dim candle light illuminating his face with a warm golden shade. Adam hates photos of him with his mask off but… You just had to keep that moment in time forever.

*Ding* *Ding* *Ding*

Speak of the- well, you know the rest. The bright light from the phone comes with the notification sound displaying Adam in bold letters. You smile as you read his messages.

Dixkmaster69

Heyy Sweetcheeks, it’s been a bit since you left

You there??

Fucking answer

You let out a small laugh at Adam’s barrage of messages. He’s not used to you being away from him for more than a day, huh? Not that you could blame him, this is honestly nothing compared to how you feel each year he has to do the extermination.

Sweetcheeks

Hey love

Everything’s fine, I’m ok.

Aside from not having you with me :’(

Dixkmaster69

Fucking finally

You know you don’t have to do this

If I bitch enough to Sera I can get you back by tomorrow

Sweetcheeks

Please don’t, Sera already has enough on her plate.

I promise I’m going to be fine

I’ll be back before you know it.

Dixkmaster69

I know

This shit just worries me

Gonna miss hearing your sexy ass voice at night too ;)

You blush at the message before sighing. Whenever you or Adam approached a topic that made him uncomfortable, he would always try to change the subject to something that made him feel better. You knew why, Adam’s someone who rarely talked about his feelings, even after all these eons together that was something he hadn’t changed. You knew exactly what he needed, even if he didn’t explicitly tell you.

Sweetcheeks

I already miss yours too <3

Do you want to help me fall asleep with that heavenly voice of yours on the phone?

Dixkmaster69

Whatever you want Sweetcheeks <3

You smile when, almost immediately, Adam begins calling your phone. You click the lights off before You make your way in your new bed, not even bothering to change out of the clothes you’ve been wearing. You grab the cover and pull it over you and tapping the answer button.

“Sup”

You yawn “Hey handsome, I missed your voice”

You hear his voice hitch before he caused on “Of course you did, no one has a better voice than the dick master. But uh, yours is a close second”

You’re let out a tired giggle, “such a charmer, you. How’s your day been huh?”

“Oh! don’t even get me started on that- Lute took me to get some ribs to ‘calm my nerves’ or some shit and they had me, ME, wait in line for like 15 minutes! The fucking audacity!”

You smile to yourself as Adam tells you about his day, the sound of his voice was like a sweet lullaby to your ears and you couldn’t get enough of it. But eventually…

“And then when I got home, I couldn’t find my damn charger and it took me like 40 fuckin’ minutes to realize it was under our bed, do you have any idea of how it keeps getting there?” He waits for you to respond only to be met with silence. “Uh bitch, I’m talking to you.”

More silence… well no, actually if Adam focused on listening, he could hear the faint sound of your snoring from the phone. Adam sighs,”Long day, huh?”

Adam lays back in your shared bed, getting comfortable. He sets the phone beside him, plugging it in while keeping it on speaker. He yawns, “Goodnight Sweetheart, can’t wait to see you again”

Slowly, the soft sounds of both yours and Adam’s snores filled each others rooms, a distant, but intimate connection. Even in slumber, you couldn’t stop thinking of your handsome and caring soulmate.

[bucketslutz]

Don't Be Late (professor Logan Howlett/Fem student mutant reader)

Click here for chapter index.

Summary: The aftermath of your drunken night with Logan does not go the way you expect it to. Tensions rise, harsh words are spoken, and feelings get inevitably hurt.

A/N: thank you all so much for the kind words and the support! every comment means the world to me, seriously. my surgery went well, it wasn't very invasive but the nitrous gas knocked me out for most of the day yesterday! thank you to everyone who wished me well. this chapter is a lot more angsty than i was intending to write it but i've been feeling pretty icky in my personal life and i think that's just translated into my writing😅 whoops. i hope y'all enjoy tho!

Warnings: smut!! 18+ minors DNI!!!, swearing, ass slapping, unprotected vaginal sex, p in v, dirty talking, car sex, angry sex, slightly rough sex, orgasm denial if you squint, insults, Logan being kinda mean to reader and vice versa

Word Count: 5,118

Chapter 4

A sharp pain reverberates around your skull. Slowly blinking your eyes open, you eventually adjust to your surroundings. You glare suspiciously at the room around you, apprehensive to move. But your head is pounding, and nausea swirls around your stomach. You groan as you sit up, scanning the area for an indication of where you are. The window to your right is draped in sheer flannel curtains, allowing the morning sunlight to shine in, much to the dismay of your hangover. The log cabin interior is sparsely decorated, save for a pair of antlers mounted above a pine dresser, clothes draped haphazardly along its prongs. The space smells of tobacco and pine. Oh god, you think to yourself, your stomach dropping as you piece the puzzle of your night together in your mind. Logan. This is Logan’s house. And you’re in your underwear. Surely you didn’t...did you? Wouldn’t you remember something like that? Would Logan even want to fuck you? Especially with how drunk you assume you were. You’re pulled from your thoughts with a startle, a knock against the door bringing you back down to earth. Logan calls your name gently from behind it.

“I’ve, uh, got some toast, if you’re hungry,” Logan says, a layer of uncertainty in his voice.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” you reply, clinging the scratchy blanket to your chest. You gather up all the courage you can muster, preparing yourself to face him, assuming you made a complete and utter fool of yourself the night before. You find your pants on the floor and shimmy them up your legs, searching for a mirror you can fix your appearance in. You find the bathroom behind a door on your left and flick the light on, groaning at the harsh pain the bright light brings upon your headache. Once your squinting ceases and your eyes adjust, you almost gasp at how wrecked you look. Your hair is completely disheveled, smudged black eye makeup making your eyes look sunken in. The smudged makeup also doesn’t help the colorless, pale appearance of your skin. You turn the sink’s faucet on, splashing some cold water onto your face. You’re delusional to think that it will do much to help. You try your best to smooth your hair down with your fingers, taking a deep breath in preparation for whatever you may face in Logan’s living room.

You meekly open the door of his bedroom, scanning the area in front of you quickly before stepping out. His bedroom is situated on the second level of his house, the door of his room leading out to a mezzanine. From here, you can see Logan sat on a leather couch in the middle of his living space, puffing on a cigar. Despite his home having this mezzanine, it isn’t full of grandiosity. It’s lit fairly dimly, the ceiling flat above your head but vaulted above Logan’s. Everything looks hand crafted, with slight imperfections in each cut of wood that sustains the structure of the cabin. 

You walk slowly down the stairs, each step making your head throb. Heading towards the couch, you decide to sit as far from him as you can manage, feeling the most awkward you’ve ever felt around him since you’ve met. He reaches his cigar’d hand towards the coffee table, stuffing it out onto the ashtray that’s already littered with old, dead cigars. He slides a plate of cold toast in your direction before he gets up. You mutter a meek thanks as he walks to the kitchen that’s nestled under the mezzanine. You manage a bite of the toast, hoping it will alleviate your nausea slightly. It doesn’t, but it does feel good to have something in your stomach. Logan returns to the living room and sets a mug in front of you, grunting as he sits back down on the couch. He seemingly has no care with being in your proximity, as he moves closer to you than from where he was before.

“Thank you,” you grumble in appreciation, reaching for the mug of black coffee. Wincing as you sip, you wish you could make that Colombian dark roast without Logan noticing. He doesn’t say anything in response to your thanks, simply nodding as he sips from his own mug of coffee. There’s a loaded moment of silence, neither one of you brave enough to say anything yet. Maybe you did something in your drunken stupor to offend him. Or maybe something happened and he feels too awkward and ashamed to do anything about it. It’s killing you to not know, and causing you to worry even further that something bad might’ve happened. You decide to swallow your anxiety.

“Um, did we..?” you break the silence, trailing off, feeling too awkward to finish the sentence.

“What? Fuck?” he finishes, rather casually, a slight furrow to his brow. His candor made you almost choke on your coffee. 

“Believe me, princess, you were in no state,” he chuckles with a shake of his head, you exhale in relief, glad you didn’t do anything too stupid, “Wouldn’t be much fun that way, anyways,” he mutters into his mug.

A wave of heat rushes to your cheeks. The nickname, the sexual innuendo. Surely that was flirting, wasn’t it? A part of your brain knows this is so highly inappropriate. Your professor got you so drunk the night before that you had to crash in his bed, and now openly flirts with you the morning after. But the other half of your brain wants to know just how fun fucking him would be.

“How much do you remember?” he asks, turning his head towards you. Shifting your weight under his stare, you focus your thoughts, trying to remember as much as you can.

“I remember our first couple games of pool,” you start, looking up at the ceiling as you try and recall further, “I remember splitting the shot of tequila…I remember the lemon drops I made you drink…And I remember....” You trail off, remembering something far worse than a potential sexual encounter with Logan. The man. His body flying across the room from the force of your kick. Logan saw you, everyone in that bar saw you. You need to get out of here.

“You know, I think I should head home actually,” you deflect, trying your best to seem as collected as possible. You stand from the couch, not entirely sure where you’re supposed to go from here.

“Your ride’s still at the bar, you were in no condition, believe me,” Logan assures, standing up with you. He walks towards his dining table and retrieves what you recognize as your purse. He hands it to you along with your shoes, you offer a tight smile as a thanks. “I’ll give you a lift to the bar.”

…

The ride back to the bar has been silent, the only sound being the engine of Logan’s truck growling down the road. Your mind is slowly becoming less and less shrouded to the events of the night before. You recall more of the tension between the two of you, his hands supporting you when you fell, the times he called you princess, the way he bit the lime in half when he split that shot of tequila.

“This wasn’t what I was tryin’ to do,” Logan mumbles, suddenly breaking the silence. You snap your head towards him, confused by what he’s attempting to say.

“What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t tryna get you shitfaced. I just…wanted you to relax,” he admits, turning his head to you briefly before promptly turning his focus back to the road. That wasn’t his intention? Really? You suddenly recall talking to him about how you don’t like clear liquor, yet he still shoved those shots in your face. Sure, you were playing a game. But you were being playful in ordering him fruity drinks as punishment, he made you violently hungover and in a state of delirium.

“Is that your way of apologizing?” you snap, narrowing your eyes at him. Logan looks taken aback by your sudden frustration.

“Sorry?” Logan responds, his voice begging offense as his head tilts like a confused puppy.

“Oh, so that word is in your vocabulary. Great. Apology accepted. I really appreciate you taking responsibility for getting me unbelievably shitfaced on liquor I told you I couldn’t drink,” you sass, crossing your arms in frustration.

“Alright, bub, sure,” Logan scoffs, laughing you off as if you’re no serious threat. Which pisses you off even more.

“I’m serious. Did you honestly think I was enjoying myself puking in your toilet for hours?” you question rhetorically, trying to get him to understand, “Maybe you like being dysfunctional, but not everyone else likes being blackout drunk on their Friday nights while getting into bar fights.” You sit back in your seat and turn as far out to the window as you physically can.

“Hey! I didn’t make you do shit,” Logan counters pointing his finger accusatorially at you, “The whole goddamned game was your stupid idea.”

“Oh, wow, that’s a really good observation, Logan. You didn’t make me do anything. The drunk girl with impaired judgement made a decision and should face the consequences of her actions,” you remark sarcastically, your arms gesturing with each emphasis you make, “Wow, ‘ya sure you’re a history professor? Because you’d be great teaching Date Rape 101.”

“Date Rape 101?” he scoffs, barely coherent, before continuing, “And whose goddamn self defense classes are you taking, eh? Wonder Woman’s?”

You freeze. Unable to form a retort. What can you say? There’s no explanation for what you did last night. It was inhuman.

“What? Got nothin’ to say, princess?” he spat, gritting his teeth. You scoff and roll your eyes in disbelief at his attitude. His car approaches the shallow gravel lot belonging to the bar. Saved by the bell, you think to yourself. He puts it in park.

“Go fuck yourself, Logan,” you bark, your tone low and deadly as you throw the car door open and stomp out. You motion to slam it, but you hesitate when a thought crosses your mind, “And buying your student drinks is extremely inappropriate and against, like, so many code of conducts,” you remark sassily before slamming his car door shut. You fish for your keys in your bag, fighting to not look behind you and watch as Logan pulls out of the parking lot, before aggressively driving away. You growl in frustration once you step into your car, holding yourself back from slamming your head against the steering wheel. In all honesty, you weren’t sure if you were mad at him or yourself for being so careless.

…

Saturday was spent nursing yourself back to health, doing nothing but laying in bed, doomscrolling on your phone in an attempt to numb your mind from the anger you felt towards your professor. The audacity to put you in that kind of position. You got so drunk you were almost unconscious, you were almost groped by a stranger, and you risked revealing your powers to him and all those strangers in the bar. How stupid were you to believe that you could have a fun evening with someone like him. An abrasive, impolite, selfish asshole that’s incapable of taking any responsibility for his actions. If you feel this way, then why do you wish you stayed in his bed a little bit longer? Why do you wish he made a move on you on his couch? Why do still want him? It makes you want to rip your hair out. How can he have this effect on you? And why him? What’s so fucking special about him that your affections are intertwined with his? No one has ever made you feel this connected in your life. It’s like there’s been an invisible string between the two of you since you’ve met, and it’s so strong that nothing can separate it. You hate him, you do, but you want him. God, you’d give anything to fuck him now. His actions from last night honestly fanning the flames of your desire even further. You don’t know why, you hate his guts right now. It almost seems that in order for you to release your anger and frustration with him, your body wants to fuck. Hard.

It’s gotten to the point where you can’t think about how mad you are at him without getting unbelievably turned on. You just want him to slam you down onto his bed and fuck you into tomorrow, leaving bites down your neck as you scratch red marks into his back. Despite your growing arousal, you’re too tired to want to relieve yourself, opting to succumb to sleep instead. You think about Logan calling you “princess” as you fall asleep.

“You got nothing to say, princess?” Logan spat from the driver’s seat, angling his head towards yours after putting the truck in park.

“Asshole,” you mumble through gritted teeth. You remain fixed on the expanse of gravel road in front of you, lit only by the headlights of Logan’s truck. Logan chuckles in disbelief, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, Logan, you’re a fucking asshole!”

“It takes one to fucking know one, baby, and you’ve been a real mess all day,” Logan retorts, waving his arms in the air in frustration. “It seems whenever you got a problem with yourself you turn it around on me. I’m not a person you can dump your shit onto!”

“I’m not dumping anything! You don’t fucking listen to me!” you scowl, finally turning your body towards him.

“Oh, believe me, bub, if you had to hear yourself half the time I do, you’d understand why I tune you out!”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed.

“You heard me!” Logan growled, dismissing you with a wave of his hand.

“Fuck you!” you snap, venom on your tongue and a furious expression on your face.

“Fuck you!” Logan snaps back, sliding towards you on the truck’s bench seat to get in your face.

“Fuck you!” you raise your voice louder than his, squaring up to him, not allowing him to corner you in the car and get the upper hand. Your faces are inches from each other now, your angry pants fanning the other’s face. You can see a shift in Logan’s eyes, twisting from raging embers of anger, to dark and lustful in a second. His eyes flick down to your lips, then back up to join your gaze again. His lips hesitate between keeping the distance, and floating towards yours, like he’s being pulled by a magnet. You don’t want him, you hate him right now, but god how you want him.

“You’re an asshole,” you mumble quickly before his lips crash hastily onto yours. He swallows you, generously flicking his tongue in and out of his mouth. You tangle your tongue with his, grasping the back of his neck with need. Logan hooks both his arms around you, pulling you as close to his chest as he can manage. With each aggressive nip and suck to your lips, the stronger your arousal swirls within you. You tuck your legs under you, sitting up on your knees, as you push him back onto the bench of the truck. You straddle him, pressing your full weight onto his pelvis and reveling in the feel of his hard cock pressed firmly against your core. His hips buck into yours, hands traveling down the expanse of your body before sliding under the hem of your tank top. You aggressively grind your hips down onto his, causing Logan to growl lowly into your mouth. Your fingers travel to Logan’s scalp, gripping his hair with intensity and ferocity while your other is pressed firmly against his chest for leverage as you continue grinding into him. Your skirt has hiked up almost completely all the way, leaving just your lacy underwear as your only barrier against his jean-clad cock. So preoccupied with his lips on yours and the friction against your clit, you failed to notice that Logan has unclasped your bra and is fighting to pull your tank top over your head. Before you even get a chance to sit up and adjust, Logan loses his patience, using both his hands to rip your tank in half with ease. Any other day, you would give a shit and chastise him for being so careless, but right now, you want nothing more than to fuck the shit out of him. You grab him by the collar and sit him up without breaking the kiss, allowing him the freedom to slip your bra off of you and let your tits spring free.

You fiddle with the buttons at the collar of his shirt, growing increasingly frustrated with them. You decide to take a page from Logan’s book and rip the front of his shirt open, sending buttons ricocheting throughout the truck. Logan growls in approval, pulling you closer to his chest. He breaks the kiss, biting and sucking up and down the expanse of your neck causing you to elicit a guttural moan in response. Logan’s becoming more and more ferocious with his movements the longer your hips grind down onto his. Removing his mouth from your neck, he bares his lower teeth before shoving you back so he’s now sitting up above you. He unbuttons his pants with ease before pulling his cock out, clearly eager to fuck you already. You spread your legs in anticipation, your skirt scrunched up to your ribcage, your bare chest heaving. He reaches for the waistband of your panties and hurriedly yanks them down your legs, throwing them behind him without a care. He barely takes any time to line himself up before he bottoms out into your tight pussy with a growl from his lips. You gasp in a mixture of sheer bliss and sharp pain. Logan hunches over your figure, grunting into your ear as he begins his rapid, hard thrusts into your core. Your moans are high pitched, overwhelmed with the pleasure he brings to your aching pussy.

“Take it,” he growls into your ear before bringing his mouth down to the crook of your neck and biting. Hard. A pained moan escapes your lips. He grunts with each powerful thrust into you, spearing you in half, causing tears to prick at the corners of your eyes. Each time he rocks into you, your moans grow more desperate, embarrassingly high pitched. Logan pulls his face away from your neck, maintaining eye contact with you as he brings a hand to your throat and squeezes.

“That’s right, take this cock,” he husks, his voice barely below a growl as he watches you get absolutely wrecked by the way he’s pounding into your pussy. The pressure to your neck makes you lightheaded, the pleasure overwhelming you.

“Yes…fuck,” you groan, your words of encouragement being broken up by each of Logan’s hard thrusts inside of you. Logan’s noises are animalistic above you, his teeth bared, his hand squeezed around your throat possessively. You’re not sure how much more of this you can take with his cock stretching and spearing you the way that it is. Just as you think you’re ready to pass out, Logan’s thrusts stutter to a stop. Removing the hand from your throat, he pulls out. You whine at the sudden emptiness, and watch Logan sit up above you, his chest heaving.

“All fours for me, babygirl,” he commands, gesturing to the space behind him for you to crawl to as he lazily strokes his cock. You oblige immediately, crawling past him to the other end of the bench seat. You arch your back in anticipation, gyrating your ass to entice him. He gives your rear a harsh smack causing you to moan lightly.

“D’you like that, princess?” he rasps, the gravel in his voice making you clench. He gives you another smack making you moan more, desperate for him to keep fucking you.

“Logan, please,” you whine, eagerly moving your hips backwards in an attempt to feel his cock against you.  

“You want it?” he teases, you can hear his cocky smile.

“Yes,” you reply breathlessly, squeezing your thighs together for some kind of friction as Logan gently massages the tender flesh of your ass. You gasp when a hand shoots up to your hair, Logan grabs a fistful and forcefully pulls you up so your back is flush with his chest. From here you can feel the stiffness of his cock against your ass. You whimper, grinding your ass into him as you’re desperate for a release. Logan’s hips adjust, feeling his length prod at your entrance before he spears into you, completely stretching you out. You gasp as he hits your cervix, starting his thrusts slowly before pushing you back down onto your hands. Keeping his hand in your hair, he uses his other hand to grip your shoulder for leverage, before bucking into you hard. You groan, pressing your hands against the car door for support as his pace quickens, his belt jingling rhythmically with the pace of his hips. You almost feel pain from the way he prods your cervix, but his pace is so fast you barely have enough time to register it. Your moans grow lewd and high pitched, the slap of his skin against your ass, the pulling of your hair, his grunting and moaning and panting. It’s all so vulgar and feral. 

“Tell me I’m right,” he grunts, his teeth bared and grip on you tightening.

“Lo-gan,” you grunt, trying your best to form a sentence, but his thrusts move your whole body and you can’t speak when he fucks you like this. He lets go of your hair, bending over you to whisper in your ear.

“Tell me that I was right and you were wrong, and I’ll keep fucking this pretty pussy,” he husks, his gruff voice tempting you as his cock twitches inside of you. God, you want to, but you’re stubborn. You know you’ll never live this down and he’ll continuously hold it over your head for as long as you live. You crane your neck behind you, flashing him a sultry look, fluttering your eyelashes.

“No,” you whisper, pressing a firm hand to his chest and pushing him off of you, his dick popping out of you as he sits back in disbelief.

“No?” he asks incredulously. You spin around situating yourself on the seat as he stares at you blankly.

“No,” you clarify simply, smoothing your hair down and collecting yourself. You find your panties on the floor and slip them on. Logan slides towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck before kissing up and down it. You shrug him off, bringing your hand up to his face and gripping his jaw lightly so he’s forced to make eye contact with you. Eyes flit down to your lips hungrily, like he’s a dog begging for his chew toy.

“We’ll see how long you last without my pussy,” you murmur, letting his lips float just inches from yours, as he’s barely able to resist capturing your lips in a kiss. But you won’t let him.

This is the first time in a week you’ve woken up without an orgasm on your fingertips. You feel quite confused, unsure of what to make of this dream. It was just as vivid as the others, but the abrupt ending didn’t leave you begging for more from him. For once, you’re not dreading his class tomorrow, ready to face him and whatever kind of attitude he wants to throw your way.

…

It’s Monday morning and you approach Logan Howlett’s class with the utmost confidence. What could he do to you? Call you out in front of the class? What would he gain from that? You could just report him to the Dean, hell, you could report him to the president of the university. You could do that now even, but he hasn’t forced your hand yet. His actions today, however, could.

You push the door open, filing in with a few other classmates, trying your best to avoid looking towards Logan at the head of the room. You pull out your notebook, attempting to focus on nothing but his lecture and his lesson plan. No distractions today.

You startle when something is slammed in front of you onto your desk, as if Logan could read your thoughts and wanted to disturb you as much as possible by simply handing you back your essay that he must’ve graded. You avoid looking at him, which isn’t hard considering he walked away almost immediately after throwing the pages on your desk. You huff as you flip the it over, much to your surprise, there’s a huge red zero scrawled at the top of your page. You’re taken aback, trying to flip through the pages so you can understand why he gave you no credit. But he offered no explanation, no notes in any of the margins. Goddamnit, you’re the only person who turned it in on time! You should be getting extra credit for that alone. You try and glare at him, hoping he’ll meet your gaze, but he avoids you with expertise. That fucking bastard. 

You stew in your seat for the rest of class. Finding it almost impossible to focus on the lecture with how much more pissed you are at Logan. What reason would Logan have to be that petty? You did the work goddamnit, he can’t withhold a grade just because you yelled at him. What an immature, insecure, stupid man. You can’t believe you were ever attracted to someone so chauvinistic and egotistical. You’d have half a mind if you didn’t go to the President about his behavior, he shouldn’t be allowed to continue teaching here or anywhere. Not when you’re done with him. And you want him to know that. You want him to feel powerless to stop you from taking his job away from him.

The clock strikes 10 and Logan zips out of class swiftly, you attempt to follow, maneuvering out from behind your row as quickly as possible. You turn out the classroom, spotting him further down the hall. Tailing him through doorways and corridors, you finally find him at his destination: his office. You take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for whatever he might throw your way. Without knocking, you swing the door open, promptly shutting it behind you. Mimicking his actions from earlier, you slam your essay in front of his face, staring at him with venom.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you snap, your face twisted into a furious scowl.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Logan asks, feigning ignorance, staring up at you with a coldness in his eyes.

“You’re a child,” you scoff, “What, you couldn’t handle getting yelled at so you take that out on my grade?”

“I don’t know what you mean. Maybe you should give that essay again another read,” he remarks as matter of factly as possible, trying his best to hide his thinly veiled anger.

“Bullshit. Fix my grade,” you command, reaching over the desk and shoving the pages closer towards him.

“I’m not fixing shit, now get out,” Logan barks sternly, sliding a drawer in his desk open and pulling out a silver leather-cased flask. He takes a generous swig, barely flinching when he gulps, causing you to scoff and roll your eyes.

“You’re unbelievable,” you huff in disbelief. A grown-ass man, drinking in the middle of the day while he’s still at work.

“You got a problem, bub?” he frowns at you before taking another swig of his liquor.

“What problem don’t I have with you!?” you exclaim, throwing your arms in the air in frustration, “You’re inexplicably nice to me on the first day of class, then you tell me to fuck off half of the time you see me, then you suddenly feel bad for me and take me out for pity drinks where you shove liquor down my throat like you wanted me to get sick! You’re abrasive, you’re bad at your job, you’re irresponsible and I could almost hate you for—“

Something in Logan snaps, causing him to stand up abruptly, slamming his palms flat on his desk before coming out from behind it to get in your face.

“I didn’t fucking ask for this!” he barks pointing at you aggressively, with each continuation of his thought, he steps closer to you, causing you to back away from his advances, “Do you think I want to be in that fucking classroom everyday, reading from a bullshit textbook with bullshit facts…Lecturing half-drunk, spoiled, rich, asshole 20 year olds who could give two shits about what I have to fucking say!”

You say nothing, letting him back you into a corner with each sling of curses and frustrations he barks at you. You can’t help the tears that well in your eyes as he gets closer and closer to your face.

“Don’t even get me fucking started on this shy, timid wallflower act you put on every day! If you think you’re fooling everyone with that performance, then you must be too goddamned stupid to be here! Stop wasting your time; wastin’ everyone’s goddamned time! Do us all a favor, pack up your bullshit and leave before you push someone else through a wall!”

Logan’s face is inches from yours now, lower teeth bared as he pants furiously, face red from anger. Tears prick your eyes and threaten to roll down your cheeks, you can’t help it, his words dug a knife into your chest. Is that what he really thinks of you? Is that really what you should do? You know what, fuck what he thinks, fuck him and his opinions. What the hell does he know about academia, you think to yourself. You inhale shakily, trying your best to choke down a sob as you twist your face into a hateful scowl.

“Fuck you,” you hiss, a stray tear rolling down your cheek despite your best efforts to uphold the angered front you wanted to put forward. You shove past him and back towards his desk, collecting your essay before starting towards the door. Your hand reaches the handle, you hesitate before you leave. Wanting to turn around, wanting him to maybe even stop you. But he’s fixed, his breathing remaining the same angered pace. With tears now unabashedly running down your cheeks, you leave, drafting the email you’re going to send to the president’s office in your head.

...

A/N: ouch :/ this one hurt to write lowkey. i had to put some smut in there to balance this one out because i started feeling too bad for all of the angst. again, all the kind words of support and encouragement make me so happy. i check my email a million times a day so i can see if someone left a comment. it motivates me a lot to keep this going, which is why im churning chapters out so fast. thank you all🫶🏻 leave your guesses for who you think the president of the university is below and any other x men characters you hope to see in the future!

also, i'm thinking about recommending a song to go with each chapter, i listen to music a lot when i write so i wanted to know what y'all thought about that! click here to view on ao3

Tags: @wolviesgirl @sanemis-piss

[flemingsfreckles]

Be a Good Teammate pt. 4

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Read Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 first!

Preview: You and Jessie have dinner at her new place.

Warnings: it’s angsty yall, buckle up (just for a bit), swearing, very brief mention of sex (no descriptions, nothing like that, but it gets mentioned)

WC: 5.5k

A/N: I think this is the end of this series. I never intend to make it more than 1 part honestly, but you all enjoyed it enough so here we are at Part 4. This also ended up more angsty than I had planned so, whoops :)

It was nearing 5pm when your Uber pulled up in front of the address Jessie had sent you. You thanked the driver and hopped out. You hadn’t thought much of the address, not noticing that there wasn’t an apartment number or a unit letter attached to the end of it, so you were surprised to find yourself standing in front of a house instead of an apartment complex as you had expected.

It was a small little blue house, wood fencing all around, a good sized front yard, a few trees, it was exactly what you would expect Jessie to pick out. 

You pulled your phone out of your sweatpants pocket to let her know you had arrived. You had gotten back to the hotel, quickly thrown on a Nike sweatshirt and a fitted pair of gray joggers.

“Hi.” You look up to see Jessie walking through the doorway and down the steps toward the fence gate. You put your phone back in your pocket, not needing to let her know you were here anymore. She reached the gate, unlatched it and held it open for you to come inside. You notice that she quickly looks you up and down as you walk through into her front yard. You can’t help but do the same to her.

Jessie’s hair was down, still slightly wet from her postgame shower, she was wearing a lavender colored long sleeved shirt and a pair of sweatpants. She looked cozy, as if she was ready to cuddle up on the couch for the evening like she had mentioned wanting to do.

“You bought a house?” Your curiosity gets the best of you and you can’t help but ask. 

“Yeah, I did. I lived with Janine and her fiancé for the first few weeks while I looked at places, and then I had to leave for the gold cup and I just couldn’t find any apartment that felt like home. I started looking at houses instead once I got back. This was actually the first one I saw and I really liked it. It’s not too big, which works since it’s just me right now but has some room if I need it in the future.” Your brain wanders to the thought of Jessie having her own kids in the future, you knew she wanted them and you had seen how good she was with kids over the years. 

“Plus I figured even if I’m only here for a couple years, I can keep the house. It’s only been a few weeks but I love the area. I'd consider coming back here to settle when soccer is over.” She opened the front door, stepping back to let you walk in first. 

You slip off your shoes, placing them on the mat next to the door where Jessie’s shoes lay neatly in a row. Looking up you realize you're standing in her living room, there’s a large gray couch, a small table in front of it, a tv, a bookshelf that’s filled with books and art and other trinkets. 

“You can keep a plant alive now?” You tease her as you see she has a variety of green plants. In college you had watched her become what you described as a serial killer of plants.

“I’m getting better. A lot of them were housewarming gifts from my teammates so I maybe just haven't had enough time to kill them.” 

Stepping out of the entryway you walk over to her bookshelf, looking at the various titles, there’s a couple photos placed on the bookshelf, one with her parents after she had won the gold medal, one of her and her Chelsea teammates holding up a couple trophies, one of her and her siblings all wearing matching Christmas pajamas. The opening to the kitchen was just to your right, you step in its direction before turning to look at Jessie who was following closely behind you.

“Can I see the kitchen?” You don’t want to invade her privacy by inviting yourself to take a tour of her place.

As if she read your mind she gestures her hand in the direction of the kitchen. “Go ahead, I can just give you the whole tour now while we wait for the food, it should be on its way by now. I was also thinking we can watch the Angel City and Orlando game, only if you want it should be on at 7. ” She looks at the clock mounted on the wall. 

“Yeah that sounds good.” You reply as you step into the kitchen.

Her kitchen was cute, the same wood accent from the outside of the house scattered throughout. She offered you an ice pack for your nose as you stood looking at her fridge. You declined, having just taken the pain meds, it was bearable pain. 

As you continue to move through her house Jessie makes a few comments here and there about what she liked about the house so much, the wood flooring, the large windows that let in natural light, the little nook that she had set up to be a place to read. Hearing her talk about the little things, paint colors, furniture was so simple and yet it made you feel like you were back to your old friendship. The simple minded discussions, the joking around, all the tiny moments you would have with her, it hit you how much you really missed just her existence and company.

You get to two closed doors at the end of the hallway, you point at the one closest to you and look back at Jessie.

“Linen closet, nothing exciting unless you want to see towels.” You move your finger to point at the other. “My bedroom.”

“Oh,” You’re not sure what to say, the closed door seemed like an obvious sign to not go in. Jessie again, able to tell what was running through your head, speaks up.

“You can go in, I just close the door out of habit. I don’t have anything to hide.” Wanting to see her bedroom, you push open the door. It reminds you a little bit of her bedroom in your college apartment. Not much as far as decor, just a few special things on display throughout. Her bed in the center of the room, a nightstand on one side.

“Sorry it’s still a mess in here, I haven’t had a ton of time to dedicate to unpacking and I was more focused on the rooms everyone else would see.” You look around, trying to find the mess she was referring to. Her bed was made, no clothes scattered across the floor, no pile of clean laundry to be put away, no water bottles on bedsides, not even dust, just a few boxes stacked neatly in the corner, the one on top open as if she had been in the middle of unpacking when you had arrived.

“If this is what you consider a mess, we have completely different standards of mess.” You let out a laugh, Jessie doesn’t say anything, just gives you a smile and slow nod. 

You’re interrupted by her phone ringing, she picks it up and before answering the call she points around the corner. “If you want to see my bathroom, it's through the closet. I’ll be right back.” 

She walks out of the room and you hear her answer the call. You take a second look around her bedroom, looking at the couple of personal items that were scattered, photos of her and her Canada teammates, photos of her family, photos of skylines and nature that you assume she had taken. She has her array of cameras all neatly set on a shelf, displaying them. Making your way over to her closet you walk through to peek into her bathroom. It looked like a bathroom, nothing too special about it, a shower, toilet, a vanity with two sinks, her toothbrush, hairbrush, and other bathroom things just placed neatly around one side.

You turn back to go wait in her bedroom being done looking at the bathroom. You walk into her closet, taking a quick glance around, the closet had more boxes in it than unpacked clothing items. Each box was neatly labeled, varying in sizes, all stacked on top of one another. You look at what clothes she had unpacked, it was nearly all clothes for training, one pile had clothes with the maple leaf and the name Canada across them, the other a mix of red, green, some blue, with the thorn’s logo and Portland across them. Looking back toward the exit of the closet your eye catches on a box, more specifically the label of the box catches your eye.

It was a box with your name on it. Printed carefully along the side, in Jessie’s handwriting. You could feel your heart begin to race. You couldn’t move, your eyes staring, your own name looking back at you. Why did she have a box with your name on it? 

“Foods here.” You didn’t even hear Jessie coming, the sound of your blood rushing through your ears muffling outside noises. She comes around the corner, you quickly look away, not wanting her to see you and think you were snooping through her stuff. You weren’t, but you could see how it could look suspicious, but then again she was the one with a box labeled for you. She must’ve seen your sudden movement as she looks at you with a questioning look, then at where the box sat, you see the moment she knows you’ve seen the box. Her eyes widen and dart back to you. You expect her to say something, she does, just not about the box.

“It’s on the kitchen table.” Her face returns to a relaxed state, almost emotionless.

“Perfect.” Mirroring her behavior you decide maybe you’ll both just pretend that box doesn’t exist. Maybe you’ll just let it eat away at you for years, just like you had done with your feelings for the girl. You follow her out of the closet and bedroom back down the hallway and into the kitchen. 

You both make a plate, grab a water, and sit down at her kitchen table. She sits first and you’re then forced to make the choice between sitting next to her or across from her. You decide on sitting across, hoping she doesn’t judge your choice. It’s quiet for the first few minutes, just the sound of silverware. Jessie keeps her eyes down, looking very interested in the plate of food sitting before her. You knew it was going to be awkward, seeing her in a non-football setting for the first time in so long, you were prepared for the small talk, asking about your family, your friends, the weather, you weren’t prepared for whatever this was. Both of you sitting here thinking about that box brought a whole different level of unexpected discomfort, it was making you itch.

“Your girlfriend doesn’t mind you having a box with another girl's name on it?” Unable to hold it in any longer, you let the question come out, you quickly kick yourself for asking that way, bringing her girlfriend into this conversation. Jessie picks up her head and puts her fork down.

“She’s not my girlfriend anymore.” Choosing the wrong time to take a sip from your glass you choke slightly causing a coughing fit. Jessie just looks at you as you try to calm down. Once you stop coughing she continues muttering the words, “and she actually did mind. A lot.”

Your brain is spinning, you heard her keep talking but your mind kept repeating the words she had spoken “not my girlfriend anymore”.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you split.”  You now feel guilty for bringing up the girl.

“Of course you didn’t, you stopped talking to me, you didn’t get to have the privilege of knowing that we split.” Her tone of voice was shifting, becoming annoyed. Wanting to ask more but also not wanting to pry on a relationship you barely knew about.

“Why didn’t you just get rid of the stuff? If that would’ve made her happy?”

“I don’t know.” She pauses looking down at her hands. “I mean I do, it’s,” she sighs. “To be fair it wasn’t just the box, she had always been a little suspicious of our relationship, I told her the truth, that there’s never been anything between us, we didn’t have a history. And she believed me, I think, at least at the start. But then when you stopped talking to me, she’d catch me watching your games, checking up on you, looking at old photos of us, and she eventually found some clothing of yours that I had put away, along with the notes we used to write each other, the birthday cards, the Polaroids, everything. I wasn’t intentionally hiding but it was out of sight out of mind for me. I didn’t need the constant reminder that I had been dumped by my best friend. She again made the assumption that we had dated, or at least had slept together. She read the letters claiming friends to talk to each other in that manner. That was just the start of the mess.”

Nodding along to her story, you try to show her you’re paying attention, and you were, it was just hard when your mind was drifting to a hundred different thoughts. 

 “And then the rumors started about my transfer. I hadn’t told her about it, I hadn't even mentioned the idea of leaving London. I wasn’t even sure it was going to go through, it was a lot of money for Portland and I was waiting on visas and medical and all that bureaucracy and we got into an argument about it. She accused me of moving for the wrong reasons, she brought up you.” Jessie pauses for a minute as if to collect her thoughts before she continues.

“ I then said some things about you I shouldn’t have said to her and then it was over with her shortly after.” The volume of her voice drops as she rushed her words at the end of her sentence.

“You could’ve just thrown it all out at the start, if that would’ve fixed things with her, I wouldn’t have known.” Your statement is true, you didn’t even know she had kept all those things you wouldn’t have known if she had gotten rid of them.

“It wasn’t that easy, I know we weren’t talking, and like I said we weren’t even friends, but fuck I missed you so much. You were my best friend for nearly 5 years, only to get dropped without a reason and I was mad at you, sure but I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of that box of stuff.”

“There was a reason, I hope you know that.”

“Well you didn't give me a reason, if you just would’ve told me I could’ve fixed it or apologized or something. Instead I just had to sit and run through every decision I had ever made questioning where I went wrong with you, what I did to hurt you.” You can see tears welding in her eyes as she continues to stare at you, despite the tears, her eyes are cold and make you feel tiny under her gaze.

You stayed sitting, staring back at her, having no clue on what to say to her, stuck between wanting to apologize and also wanting to yell back at her. You silence allows her to continue.

“I would’ve done anything to have you back in my life, all you had to do was ask, but it felt like you wanted nothing to do with me. And that fucking hurt.” Her fist comes down hard on the table, it startles you, making you sit back away from where you had been leaning against the table. You cross your arms as you sit back and bow your head to stare down.

“I couldn’t ask.” It comes out quiet, from your mouth almost as if it was an accident.

“What?”

“I couldn’t ask you to fix it, it wouldn’t have been fair.” Speaking louder you bring your head back up to look at her.

Now it’s her turn to say nothing. She looks from you to where her hands sat on the table. She just waits, giving you the space to give her more information. You know you owe her the explanation, what you don’t expect is the word vomit that comes out once you start.

“I couldn’t ask you to break up with her, I couldn’t tell you I was jealous of her, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you those things, you seemed so happy with her, it wouldn’t have been fair. I had my chance for 4 years before she existed to tell you and I didn’t, but I also couldn’t stand seeing you so happy with her, it tore me apart, I wanted you to be happy and you were. It just sucked that you were happy with someone else. It sucked trying to be a supportive friend, I hated having to hear about your dates, and hearing about your first kiss, and I really hated having to hear all about the first time you two fucked.” The last word coming off with extra emphasis, the memory of her call to you after their night together briefly plays in your mind, only making you more upset.

“I hated it Jessie, but I sat through it for as long as I could because I wanted to be there for you. I wanted to be a good friend to you. I wanted to still be your best friend but I couldn’t and all I wanted was for her to no longer exist. I started to think horrible things about her and your relationship and that’s when I knew I needed to take a step back for my own health. I was no longer being a good friend to you. So I stepped back.” Your voice was loud, you were slightly out of breath barely stopping between words as you yelled across toward her, you’re not sure why you were yelling, you weren’t trying to yell at her. It wasn’t her fault she had found someone to make her happy that wasn’t you. But the past year of frustration had built and built and unfortunately this was the time the wall broke, and here you were practically shouting at Jessie across her own kitchen table.

Jessie doesn’t say anything. She stands up from the table, the sound of her chair scraping the floor was the only noise in an otherwise silent room. Grabbing her own empty plate and then extending her hand she offers to take yours. You pass it to her. She walks them over to the sink, putting them down, running the water over them. You stand up, not wanting to feel like a terrible house guest, you start packing the leftovers back up. You open the fridge door and place them inside. The water shuts off and Jessie puts the plates on a mat to dry. She walks past you, not saying anything as she moves into the living room. You hear the noise of the couch, assuming she has sat down you take a few steps toward the other room. 

She’s sitting on the couch, bent over with her head in her hands. Her thumb is rubbing against her temple and she’s bouncing her knees. Leaning against the doorway you stay quiet, you feel bad for yelling at her, seeing her overwhelmed like this because of you, tugged on your heart. You wanted to rush to her side and hug her but you also knew that would probably be the worst thing you could do. You stayed put, leaned against the wall just watching her. She lets out a large breath and then sits up. 

“What?” 

“I didn’t,” you shake your head, not sure what she’s asking. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“I know, but you look like you want to, so what? Just say it. Don’t be a coward again.” Her words are harsh, insulting you in a way she hadn’t ever before. To be fair to her you realized you had also never yelled at her before either.

“I’m not a coward.”

“Hiding your feelings for 6 whole years, 5 of those years when we were best friends feels a little cowardly, but that’s just my opinion.” You hadn’t seen Jessie like this often, especially towards you, she was almost being mean, not caring what she said to you or how she was saying it. 

“Fine, what did you say about me to her? Before you broke up, you said that you said stuff to her about me that you shouldn’t have. What did you say?” You can’t help but ask, the question of what she had said had been sitting in your brain since she mentioned it.

When Jessie doesn’t respond right away you push her. “Don’t be a coward.” You mock her tone from earlier using her own words. She rolls her eyes at you.

“She accused me of moving to try and be closer to you, she said I wanted to rekindle our relationship. And by that point I couldn’t take her nagging about you anymore and so I was honest with her. I told her the reason I had kept all of your stuff, the reason I checked up on you, the reason I would look at old photos of us, even though you didn’t care about me anymore. I had to tell her my memories of you were comforting for me.” She looks you in the eyes for a second before looking down at her hands.

“Those memories felt like home, that you felt like home. And I then had to tell her that was something I had never felt with her.”

You’re not sure how to respond, trying to process all of Jessie’s words before saying anything back to her. You move off the wall and sit down on the couch, putting some distance between where you both sat.

“Naturally, admitting having feelings for someone else to your current partner doesn’t go over well so that was the end of that.” She mumbles as you sit down.

“You have feelings for me?” Maybe you had heard her wrong, doubting that this conversation was actually happening. She slowly blinks at you.

“Did they check you for a concussion after the hit?” Her question only confuses you more. 

“What?” 

“Oh my god.” Jessie throws her hands up. “Yes, I have feelings for you. That’s what I just said, I just didn’t really know that they were those kinds of feelings until you stopped talking to me and I realized how important you were and that it felt like I was missing a part of me that no one besides you could fill. And then I had her, and that was fine for a little bit, but she wasn’t you.”

You have half a thought to call her out, call her a coward the way she had to you for hiding her own feelings, but decide against it. 

The silence takes over the room, you’re not sure what to say to her. What do you say to someone you’ve been secretly in love with for 5 years when they finally admit they want you back? Where do you even start to make up for the time you both wasted? Where do you go from this conversation? 

Thankfully you don’t have to figure it out at that moment as both your phone and Jessie’s vibrate and light up, both of you reviving the notification that the Angel City and Orlando game was set to start. 

Jessie looks up from reading the notification, “Do you still want to watch the game? I understand if you don’t, I probably wouldn’t want to stay around someone who called me a coward.” 

“I want to stay, if that’s okay. You can yell at me and call me whatever, but just being around you has really made me realize how much I’ve missed your company. So, I’d like to stay if you’ll let me?” 

“Of course.” She reaches for the remote on her coffee table and points it toward the tv turning it on.

“Can I get that ice pack you offered earlier?” No longer caught up in the intense conversation you feel the pain from your nose starting to return in full force. Jessie tosses the tv remote in your direction and hops up from the couch immediately, rushing to her freezer. She comes back with an ice pack, a bag of frozen veggies, a towel, and a bottle of pain meds. 

“Do you want to just sit and hold it or lay down? I can get you a different pillow. I brought the towel in case the direct ice is too cold. And if you want these.” She gives the bottle of medicine a shake. “I also wasn’t sure if the ice pack would sit nicely on your face so I got this.” She holds out the package of frozen vegetables to you. 

“Yeah that’ll actually probably work best.” You take it from her hand. “Thanks.” You add. She placed the pain meds on the coffee table and leaves to put the other ice pack back in the freezer. You use the remote to find the game, and Jessie returns as they commentators start talking about the starting lineups for each side.

When Jessie sits down you notice she sits a lot closer to you then the two of you had been before. Your hips and thighs are only inches apart. She leans back and puts her feet up onto the table. 

You both sit in what is now a more comfortable silence, watching the game. You both make comments here and there about footwork, ball movement, passes, shots, critiquing and complementing the players. At halftime Jessie stands up, takes the now thawed bag of vegetables from you and brings it back to the freezer. She comes back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn and waters.

When she sits back down, she closes the gap between the two of you. The outside of her leg now resting against the outside of yours. She places the popcorn bowl so that it rests on both of you. Jessie leans back to rest against the back of the couch and you do the same. The game starts back up again, you both focusing your attention back to the tv. 

It only takes 5 minutes into the second half for you to feel Jessie shift in her seat. She’s moving only slightly but being hyper aware that she’s pressed up against you, you can’t help but notice her movements. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel her lean her head over, placing it to rest on your shoulder, leaving her body more forcefully against yours. Your whole body tenses, not wanting to move and disturb her. 

You stay like this for a couple minutes. Deciding you couldn’t let her make all the moves you glance down to see Jessie’s hands resting on top of each of her thighs. You place your own hands in the same position, then move the one closest to her, in her direction. You move just as slow as she had until your pinky finger is hovering just over hers. You slowly let your hand fall on top of hers, she doesn’t pull away, or tell you off. Instead she flips her hand so her palm is now facing up. Eager to finish what you had started you now quickly move your hand, interlocking your fingers with hers. You wait a minute, then let the pad of your thumb gently rub against her thumb.

You stayed in that position, holding her hand, her head resting on your shoulder as the two of you watched the remainder of the game. Wanting more time with Jessie you desperately were hoping for an insane amount of added time, unfortunately only 3 minutes are added and the game is quick to end.

Jessie pulls her head off your shoulder, sitting up with a yawn.

“I should probably get back.” You say, realizing it was nearing 9pm and while you didn’t have a curfew, you still didn’t want to be caught coming back too late by any of your teammates knowing you’d never hear the end of it, especially since they knew you were at Jessie's.

“Right.” Jessie stands up from the couch and flips a light on. The sun had gone down as you watched the game and the two of you were in the dark without the light from the tv. She holds her hand out to you, you take it and stand up. You quickly pull out your phone and order an Uber, thankful you were in a larger city and your ride would be here in less than 5 minutes. You move toward the door, bending down to slip your shoes on before standing up facing Jessie. 

“It feels weird to say that I had a really good time tonight with all the yelling that happened, but I did. I had a really good time with you Jessie.” You smile at her.

“I had a good time too, this was nice. I’ve missed you.” She replies to you. She holds her arms out to you, offering a hug. You take a step toward her, leaning in to wrap your arms around her waist as she places hers on your shoulders. You stay hugging, longer than a normal friend’s goodbye hug would be. You both release the hold on each other but you don’t move back from her. You stay face to face, your eyes staring back at her brown ones. 

Much to your surprise Jessie is the one who makes the move. One of her hands comes up to your cheek, her fingers are warm and soft on your skin. Her eyes break contact with yours dropping to your lips quickly and then back up. She starts to lean in but stops just moments before your lips would connect.

“Is this okay?” Her voice is barely audible, quieter than a whisper. 

“Yes.” Before you have a second to think about kissing her it’s already happening. It’s a gentle kiss, her lips just placed on top of yours. She starts to pull away a second later, but you let your head chase her lips, giving her a bit more forceful of a kiss. In doing so, you bump your nose against hers causing you to pull back quickly from her, hand coming to clutch your nose.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry I forgot about your nose.” Jessie’s eyes are wide as her hand comes to rest on the forearm of the hand holding your face.

“It’s okay Jess, that was my fault, I forgot too for a second.” You wipe your hand under your nose and look down at your fingers making sure you’re not bleeding again. “It’s not crooked or anything right?”

“No, but those black eyes are starting to come in.” Her eyes dart between both of yours. You both let out a small laugh and then are left in silence.

“I’d like to take you out sometime, on a proper date, if you’d want that?” You look at her hopeful she’ll want to continue whatever the two of you started.

“I do, I want that.” She smiles back at you, you let out a sigh of relief. 

“Okay.” You can’t help but smile big back at her.

“Okay.” She just repeats your words.

“I should be going.” You repeat your words from earlier, you knew you had to go, you just didn’t want to.

Jessie moves her hand from your forearm up to your face to grab your chin. You think for a second she’s going to kiss you again but then she’s pushing your head away from her and to the side. She moves in and places her lips on your cheek. 

“Once your nose is healed you can have more on the lips.”  She says teasingly. The gentle gesture has you blushing more than the kisses to your lips did. She releases your face and you see her eyes look at your cheeks, the blush growing. You turn quickly facing the door, grabbing the handle and stepping out. 

“Goodnight Jessie.” 

[skitskatdacat63]

"From triumph to failure is but one step."

+ the usual

I love when I can include paper sketches in the process gif. It's very satisfying to see it progress from a very vague imagining of what was in my head to the finished project.

+ version without text

My favorite sketch was definitely the one where I actually put in words what it's supposed to convey. I wouldn't usually write that down, cause it's all in my head, but it was useful to do so when sending it to other people. I'll go into it more but here it is just as a teaser:

Lmao first of all, I like how I was teasing "Spanish GP" art, but as per usual, it's just thinly veiled au art. IM SORRY, I'M NOT INTERESTED IN MAKING GENERAL POSTERS, THAT'S NO FUN! So instead you will get weirdly relevant matador au art. I like it a lot though, I was really shocked I was able to draw 3 different Fernandos, I mean even drawing one figure takes a lot out of me, but this was weirdly easy?? I think it's just the effect of not being burnt out anymore, and actually being able to draw with more ease makes me feel like a god.

Okay, so the text: "Fight or Flight?" I'll be honest, I don't even remember why I chose it, literally came to me in a vision 😭 But I think it's fitting with the narrative of this piece. Is it better to keep going on, keep fighting, or better to finally give up, and flee? Not that I even remotely think he should give up, but I feel like sometimes I can sense him pondering this very question. That was the big fear before he announced that he re-signed. Keep fighting and maybe, just maybe, you'll get the chance to finally go up against the bull again. Or accept it's an uphill battle and the fighting is going to keep getting more and more strenous, and maybe it's time to put down the sword. SORRY THIS IS SO ANGSTY FOR WHAT'S SUPPOSED TO BE "yayyyy home race!!!" Please forgive me <3

I. Renault

At some point, someone pointed out to me that I had drawn all other iterations of matador Fernando with a sword, except for Renault Fernando, and that ended up feeling very poignant to me. In a bull fighting match, they really only pull out the sword at the last minute to deliver the killing blow. So I think it's important to never draw this Fernando with a sword, because it shows the unfailing confidence and stability he has at that point. He only needs to pull out the sword at the end, as a formality almost, there's no reason for him to keep his guard up at all times.

II. Ferrari

Meanwhile this Fernando, he's considering his sword like he hasn't had to in the past. He's checking the sharpness, making sure in advance he can do what needs to be done. He's on guard, he feels like he needs to keep up his defenses at all times because he doesn't have that same amount of trust and stability anymore. He knows though he will be up against the (red) bull, at least that's never in question. At least there's the assurance he'll get the chance to fight.

III. Aston

Oh, Aston Fernando....He doesn't know whether to take up his sword or finally put it down for the last time. While at least Ferrari Fernando knows he's on constant guard against the bull, this Fernando doesn't even have that assurance anymore. He feels like he can never put down the sword, just in case he gets the chance to strike the killing blow on the bull, which feels like it's growing more and more unlikely.

Spanish flag: ? Lmao this was meant to be something to celebrate Fernando's home race and it turned very introspective whoops. Also got the Napoleon quote in there hahaha, can't escape it!! Shame though there is no French gp anymore, if so I'd probably draw an unhinged thing for it :,(

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Could I please request Casey Novak! She’s my all time favourite baby! Maybe something like how reader is Burning with hatred when the new friend Casey starts to be too touching and affectionate. You can make it angsty or how ever you like. A bit random but I dunno I’m feeling jealous lately I need to get it out of my system before it eats at me more .

Thanks you my love! 🥰

All yours, anon! I don't write a whole lot of angst, so this was fun! (Happy ending tho because of who I am fundamentally lol). Hope you enjoy! --illdowhatiwantthanks

With the Crack of a Bat

Casey Novak x fem!reader Warnings: violent thoughts on the part of the reader (not like murderous or deeply harmful or anything, but... we're definitely wishing ill-will), some angst, very vague references to sex, innuendo (please let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.3k

Summary: There's a new girl on yours and Casey's LGBTQ+ softball team, and you do not like how cozy she's getting with your girlfriend.

You sat fuming in the dugout, waiting your turn to bat, the heel of your cleat grinding repeatedly into the dirt-caked concrete. You weren’t usually a jealous person and, in the several months you’d been dating, Casey had done nothing to suggest that she was the kind of person who’d cheat on you. In fact, she’d done quite the opposite, proving herself again and again to be loyal to a fault.

But the new girl–Eloise–she made you more insecure than you’d been since high school. She was everything you weren’t. Lithe where you were stocky. Feminine where you were rough around the edges. Suave and easy and flirtatious where you were awkward and fumbling. In short, she would have been a popular girl. She was popular on the LGBTQ+ softball team. Even just in scrimmages, like today, both sides of your split team vied for Eloise to be their pitcher. She was the best. There was no way around it.

You hated playing catcher for her. She was more of a one-woman show than a team player. She often ignored your play calls. When she pulled it off, it paid off. But you’d allowed more than one stolen base because she threw where you weren’t expecting and you missed the catch.

But today, you’d discovered something you hated even more than playing catcher for her: Casey playing first base for her. Every strikeout, every tag-team play, they were all over each other. Chatty as could be. Hugging, cheering, lingering high-fives. It made you livid. But if you’d examined your anger, you would have found that what it really made you was scared. Scared that Casey would like Eloise more than you because, let’s be honest, what’s not to like?

You swung your bat, letting your shoulders and hips get loose as you waited on deck. A tip of the ball from the batter in front of you–a grounder to Eloise, who scooped it up and tossed it wildly to Casey. It would have been an easy throw to miss, but Casey bent and stretched for it, tagging the runner out at first with only seconds to spare.

Eloise whooped and the two came together for a high-five.

“Hell yeah, Novak,” Eloise called, smacking her ass. You felt your jaws clench. “Gotta love a girl who knows how to bend.” She spoke a little too loud, a little too pointed, especially as you approached the box. She wasn’t even being sly about it anymore. It’s like Eloise was goading you, teasing you, as if she was saying without saying, I could take your girl. Easy.

You took a deep breath and focused. Focused all your rage, all your insecurity, all your desperate love for Casey that felt suddenly so very tenuous, and held it all in your twisted grip on the bat. You exhaled slowly, blood pumping loud in your ears, tensed and ready for Eloise’s pitch. And when it came–wham. You sent it flying–straight into Eloise’s left boob. The thwunk was so unbelievably satisfying, you had to wipe the smile off your face before anyone noticed. Eloise doubled over, clutching her chest, stumbling into the dirt on the pitcher’s mound. The rest of the fielders ran to her.

What you really wanted was to victoriously round the bases, but that seemed in bad taste, so you dropped your bat and walked over to the pitcher’s mound, too.

“Oh my god, Eloise,” you said, trying your best to sound sincere. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all good,” she groaned, taking Casey’s hand and grasping it as she pulled herself to her feet.

You frowned as you watched Casey support Eloise with an arm around her back. This was backfiring. This was not going the way you’d planned. Softball practice effectively dissipated as one of the girls got Eloise some water and another dumped hers to make a makeshift ice pack for her to hold on her chest.

After making sure Eloise was okay, Casey turned to you, glaring. You shrank. This was really not going as planned.

“Get your shit,” Casey said, her voice harsh and flat. “Let’s go.”

You silently gathered your things and followed her to the car, scared by her tone, scared by the fact that she didn’t take your hand on the way to the car like she always did, scared that she seemed well and truly mad–a rarity for Casey.

“Case–” you started, as you both climbed into the car and slammed the doors.

“What the fuck was that!?” she yelled, brows furrowed, face red. “The rest of the team might not know, but you and I know exactly how good your aim is with a bat. That was not an accident, Y/N.”

You were quiet, head bent, trying not to cry. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Casey shook her head. “What is your deal with her!? You’ve been acting so weird since she joined the team.”

“I’ve been acting weird!?” you shot back, surprised by your own anger. “You’ve been weird. She’s all over you, Casey. She flirts with you constantly. In front of me. And you just… let her!”

Casey looked at you with genuine shock. “What are you talking about?!”

You dashed away a few angry tears that slid down your cheeks. “She’s… she’s so fucking pretty and cool and strong and you clearly like her and I just… I don’t know. I’m sorry. It was dumb.”

“Y/N,” Casey said, her voice cooling a bit. “I like Eloise as a friend. That’s it.”

“Well,” you sniffed. “She likes you as more than a friend. And she acts like it.”

You let out a shaky breath, jumping a bit when you felt Casey’s hands on the side of your warm face. You glanced at her and saw that she was fighting off a smile, her eyebrows raised.

“You’re jealous,” she said, savoring the word, letting it linger. “Is that what this is about?”

You blushed furiously, looking pointedly at the door handle. “I’m sorry. I know it’s stupid.”

Casey sighed, then chuckled a bit, brushing her thumb against your cheekbone. “It’s kind of cute actually. But, Y/N, honey…” She turned your face so you had to look her in the eyes. “I am not flirting with Eloise. I will make it clear to her that I’m in a relationship. Maybe she just didn’t know.”

You had your doubts about this, but you decided to keep quiet about it for the time being.

Casey continued. “But unless she doesn’t respect that boundary, I still want to be friends with her. Okay? You can’t ask me to not be friends with people because you’re jealous.”

You nodded and sighed. “I know. But if she keeps flirting with you anyway?”

“If she keeps coming on to me, I will cut it off. I promise.”

You sighed, grinding your teeth.

“Baby,” Casey said, pressing her forehead to yours, both of you heady with the scents of ballpark dust and sweat and the leather of your gloves. “I can assure you I do not talk to Eloise or anyone else the way I talk to you. Or touch them the way that I touch you.”

You shuddered as she brushed her lips against yours.

“She’s not even my type,” Casey finished, her mouth mere centimeters from yours.

“And what’s your type?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

“You.” And then she kissed you. She kissed you with so much fervor, so much passion, as if she couldn’t communicate how yours she was with mere words, so she had to use her lips instead. And you knew then–just as deep down you’d always know–that Casey wasn’t flirting with anyone else. She wasn’t looking at anyone else. She certainly wasn’t doing this with anyone else. Casey was yours. And you were hers. And you’d do anything and everything to keep it that way.

[artficlly]

me & the devil (one-shot)

Wild West Marvel AU

outlaw!bucky x saloon girl!reader

The Diamondback Saloon and Hotel has always attracted bad men, and Bucky Barnes happens to be one of them.

Warnings: violence, death, wound descriptions, lots of blood and gore, mention of guns, swearing, sex worker reader, lots of talk of sex work, vague mentions of past non-con and abuse, lots of angst, sexual tension, breaking law, bank robbery, lmk if anything needs to be added.

Word Count: 11.2k (whoops)

A/N: hi! this is a pretty angsty/gorey fic I've been working on. i started this a month back while watching west world. i love westerns, rdr and all thinsg cowboy so this was so fun to write. i was thinking of maybe a part two just due to how long this got lol. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

It was still morning when trouble walked in. In the two months you had been working at The Diamondback Saloon and Hotel, it had taken you only days to figure out who was trouble and who wasn’t. There was an energy to them, something more clinging to their bodies than the grime and grit of the wilds. The saloon would fall into a hush, an unspoken knowing between all within. It wasn't just the guns on their person, but the way they held themselves. A swagger and a smirk, bruises on their knuckles, a twisted nose from a fight long forgotten An essence of something deeper, a whisper that hissed in warning. 

That intensity screamed danger, and all those inside knew to obey it or face its wrath. 

“Them boys look like trouble.” Charlotte hummed, echoing your thoughts entirely. The two of you stood leaning back against the bar, examining your new patrons. There were three of them, young and deadly. They had that energy and that intensity. With just a flick of your eyes, you could read it – fatality written into the dirt under their nails to the subtle splatter of blood along the cuff of a shirt. 

“Maybe that’s reason to steer clear for once.” You muttered back to the woman, your fan fluttering as you eyed her with a frown. “The last lot didn’t even pay you.”

Danger didn’t often walk into Silverton, but when it did, it always stopped by The Diamondback for one final drink and fuck before facing the open wilds. Danger had different faces; some returned, some didn’t. The three men who now took up a table in the back were certainly new to you. 

“The ride was payment enough.” Charlotte giggled as she batted her lashes. “Them boys always have a lot packing.”

You rolled your eyes with a huff. "Yeah, and half of em’ don’t even know how to use it.” 

“I’ll take my chances.” Charlotte announced with one of her coy smiles you had grown to know so well. She strutted off in the direction of the group of men, hand dragging across shoulders and cleavage pronounced in her posture. The men looked at her up and down like a meal – predators and prey. You often couldn’t tell the difference between the two – who was prey and who was predator. Considering how much coin Charlotte would often fish from her corset after a day’s work, maybe she was the predator. You had learned a lot from her in your short time at The Diamondback. 

After a moment of consideration, you turned to face the bar. The barkeep, Crowley, had his eyes fixed on the trio. With a tut, he returned to cleaning the glasses lined along the bar. You were barely able to hear his low voice over the piano. “I swear that girl ain’t got no fear.”

“I guess that’s what comes from workin’ in a job like this long enough.” You replied simply, abandoning your fan on the bar as you snatched up one of the clean glasses. 

“I swear I seen them boys' faces on a poster up north in Rustler’s Grove.” Crowley muttered, eyeing you disapprovingly as you slid the glass in his direction. “You drinkin’ this early already?”

“Be a gentleman, won’t you?” You replied with a beam, elbows propped onto the bar. “Whiskey. The stuff from the back, not that watered-down shit for the guests.” 

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Crowley grumbled, abandoning his post to rummage around for your request. You took the brief moment to cast a glance back across the room. 

Charlotte was now perched on one of the men’s laps; he had a darker complexion, and curls of dark hair were escaping from under his hat. You noted how one of his hands gripped Charlotte’s upper thigh, squeezing the exposed flesh. Her hand explored his chest as he whispered in her ear. Across the table, his two companions seemed deep in a hushed conversation, completely oblivious to the table of men eyeing them suspiciously nearby. 

You ripped your eyes away, instead putting your focus on your hands, which you had clasped tightly together. You never wanted this life; you assumed no whore truly wanted this life. Instead, you all stumbled into it one way or another. A broken family, a dead husband, a lost soul – each of you had a story that led you down this path. All you could do was put on a smile and tell yourself that you liked it, pretending that you had some kind of freedom or power over your situation. 

Your eyes fluttered upwards, watching Crowley through your lashes as he returned and poured the liquor into the glass. “You’re thinking too much again; all you’re gonna end up in is a whole world of pain.”

You considered his words, turning them over in your mind before speaking. “That’s what the drinks for.” You hummed with a weak smile. “No thinking if the whiskey drowns it all out.”

Crowley offered you a hollow smile, more of a grimace, as his weathered skin pulled tightly at the corners. “Damn right.” 

You shot the whiskey back in one swallow, with a moment of silence following as you allowed yourself to feel the burn in your chest. It was a familiar sensation, one you had relied heavily on to get through the past two months. 

“Whiskey this early? A woman after my own heart.” A deep, husky voice spoke from beside you. Trouble. There he stood. It seemed one of the trio had escaped Charlotte’s clutches; if it had been to talk to you or simply drink at the bar, you could not know. You couldn't help but notice the intensity of his gaze as it bore into you. He was taller than the other two and broader, with large shoulders and a chest that seemed to fill out his shirt in all the right places.

Your eyes quickly swept back across the room, seeing Charlotte still occupied. A few of the other girls circled nearby like vultures, searching for the coin they knew was just under their nose. 

“Buy me another one, then we can talk.” You replied easily, plastering on a sickly-sweet smile. You wondered if he saw through it and whether he knew how much you hated yourself. You knew it was foolish to think so.

The man silently motioned two fingers at Crowley, and your glass was quickly refilled. You swirled the amber liquid, eyeing the man as he examined you in return. He seemed to live a rough lifestyle, with skin weathered from the sun, sand and dirt clinging to flesh and clothes alike. His knuckles were bruised and swollen, and there was a scar above his left eyebrow. Strings of brunet hair poked out from beneath his hat, paired with piercing blue eyes that seemed to penetrate your soul. The muscles in his chiseled jawline flexed as he swallowed back the liquor with a stoic look. Your tongue ran over your bottom lip as you watched his adam’s apple bob. He had a rough, handsome charm to him, despite everything telling you to run. It always seemed to be that way with troublemakers. 

“How’d a girl like you end up in a place like this?” He hummed, placing his glass back on the bar. You smile at him from behind your own glass, keeping eye contact as you finish the liquor with ease. Whiskey made you comfortable, and whiskey made you fun. Most of all, it made you forget. 

“How do you think most girls end up in this place, hm?” You reply boldly, watching as Charlotte ascends the stairs with her new client in tow. “Sad stories, bad stories. Every whore has a sob story; do ya really want to hear a sob story?”

“You’re new here; ‘least you weren’t around when I was last in these parts,” he chuckled in response. Another round of liquor was poured into your glass with a quick flick of the man's callused fingers. 

“New…” You hum, your fingers tracing along the sticky, dark wood of the bar. The man’s attention was fixed on your every movement. “How new do you consider... new?”  

“I was ‘round here about a year ago now.” His gravelly voice replied, and another shot of liquor was swallowed. Your eyes briefly danced back across the room, a table of patrons shouting over a game of poker stirring your attention. The man next to you didn’t even flinch as a glass was shattered and chairs screeched as they tumbled to the ground. 

“I guess I am new.” You finally spoke, sending another perfectly empty smile in his direction. He ran his tongue over his teeth with a chuckle. “What’s your name?” You ask.

“James. But most people just call me Bucky.”

“Bucky.” You hum in thought, drinking yet another shot of the amber liquor. 

“You wanna head upstairs, sweetheart?” He asks, watching as Crowley abandons his post behind the bar to clear out the poker table, the group having resorted to whipping out their guns. You ignore the chaos, shrugging with a simple smile.

“Sure thing, cowboy.” You say as you hook your arm around the back of the bar, stealing the bottle of whiskey while Crowley was distracted. Bucky followed your movements with a grin, following you up the stairs wordlessly. 

—

Finding an empty room was easy; most of the girls had unspokenly claimed a room they reused throughout the day. The rooms in the Diamondback were modest, as expected for a small town. A double bed with fresh sheets, a chair next to an unused fireplace, and a dresser near the door with a bowl and pitcher of water placed atop it. 

Your back was turned to Bucky, and you could hear the creak of the bed as he sat down. You dared to look up through your lashes, meeting his eye through the mirror that sat atop the dresser. Bottle of whiskey forgotten, you turn to face the rugged man. You can't help but feel a little weak in the knees under his intense gaze. A hand runs over his stubbled chin briefly before removing the worn leather hat from his head. His hair, a rich, dark brown, emerges from beneath, his hand running through the messy strands.

You step forward, carefully taking the hat from his large hands. The remnants of sand and dirt prickle your fingers as you brush the pads over the fabric. You had come to learn how much the men who frequented the Diamondback valued their hats; there was an unspoken lore or story attached to each one. With his hat delicately placed on the bedside table, you return to Bucky’s side. 

With the whiskey doing its work, you smooth your hands over the dark fabric of his shirt. Your hands looked so small, delicate, and clean next to him. You found him handsome; if you were younger, you probably would’ve been intrigued or charmed by his looks as well. You knew to avoid trouble like him, but under different circumstances, at a different time?

The thoughts bubble in your mind as you seat yourself close next to him, breath fanning across his skin as you lean in. Your movements are slow and deliberate. You test his response with a quick peck of your soft lips against his before quickly closing the distance. He was so rough in comparison to you; his body was sturdy as a rock. His lips were chapped from days spent in the sun, and his stubble was coarse against your smooth skin. 

His hands gripped your waist tightly, pulling you closer as you licked into his mouth. A breathless chuckle rumbled in his chest, his lips hungrily consuming yours. Your hands explored lower, feeling the defined muscles beneath the dark fabric. Your hands wrapped around his suspenders and guided them over his broad shoulders. 

Bucky pulled away, his mouth instead traveling towards your neck. You tilted your head, feeling his hot breath across your skin. Squirming in his hold, your eyes fluttered shut as his lips met your ear.

“As much as I appreciate it, sweetheart, I’m just lookin’ to chat.” He breathed. You were so concentrated on his hot breath and his squeezing hands that you could not understand what he had said. You opened your eyes, heavy lidded as you gazed at him in confusion. 

“To chat?” You question, your faces still pulled closely together. 

“Maybe I do wanna hear your sob story, darlin’.” He hummed through a smirk. You felt heat rise in your cheeks, embarrassment flooding your system as you realized he was laughing at you. With one strong push, you wrenched yourself from his grasp with a huff.

“Don’t waste my time.” You hiss at him with a scowl, shooting to your feet. 

“I’ll pay you for your time; don’t worry. I ain’t lookin’ to put you out of business.” Bucky defended himself, raising his hands in the air as if in surrender. You hesitate near the dresser.

“You want to pay to talk to me?” You question him, your skepticism clear in your tone. There were always men trying to get out of paying what they fucked; you’d seen all the different types of scams. Some would run, some would get violent, and some would promise to ‘save’ the girl from this place. You could imagine trouble like Bucky running that type of scheme, saying it was just a chat to get out of payment. 

“I ain’t got many other people to talk to; why not a pretty lady?” He hummed, leaning back onto his muscled arms to view you properly. 

“If you’re messin’ with me–” You began to grumble.

“I ain’t, darling. Just wanna talk.” 

You stared at him for a beat, weighing your choices. Go downstairs and let another grubby man get his hands on you, or stay up here and chat with a handsome troublemaker who may or may not pay you. With a sharp exhale, you retrieve the bottle of whiskey and take a swig from it. “Fine. Alright then.”

Bucky watched your actions with an amused expression, his body language cool and collected against your outward annoyance. He reached over to his leather coat, which he had abandoned next to him on the bed, retrieving a box of cigarettes and matches. 

“You have a real sad look to you.” He commented as he placed a cigarette between his lips. “Standing down by that bar like you don’t wanna be here, I bet it attracts a certain type.”

“What do you mean?” You question him as he strikes the match, taking a long drag once the cigarette is lit. 

“The type of men you attract,” he begins to explain. “Type’a of men who want a girl who don’t want it. Cruel bastards, you know.”

You pause at his words, recounting all of the men you had serviced. Charlotte usually attracted the young ones, the boys who wanted a story to brag about to their friends. The men you attracted were older and quiet. They came to you, drawn in by your melancholy. The whiskey burned your chest as you took yet another swig. Memories best left buried. “And are you a cruel man?” 

“No, well, some might say, but not in that way. I ain’t a mean bastard with a fantasy of being with a girl who don’t want it.” 

“What type of man are you?” Your voice is low, a sense of unease crawls under your skin at his words. 

“What do you think?” He asks, his body growing still. Predator and prey. A part of you enjoyed the thrill of watching him assess your every move. Another part of you was terrified, screaming that you knew trouble and should know better than to get tangled up in it. 

“A dangerous one. An outlaw.” When you say those things, you mentally brace yourself for him to take offense and respond badly. Instead, to your surprise, he chuckles, eyebrows raising in delight as if you had hit the bullseye. 

A gleam tugs at his lips, the chuckle catching in his chest as he takes another drag. “An outlaw, eh? What do you know about outlaws?”

“I know the type.”

“Hah. I suppose you do, workin’ in a place like this.” He comments, hands gesturing to the room around you, the cheap linen and scratched wooden floors. Somewhere down the hall, you could hear Charlotte putting on one of her shows, the paper-thin walls barely covering the moans. “Places like this breed evil; I suppose that’s why I frequent them so often.”

Your back met the dresser as Bucky stood, his frame towering above you even from a few steps away. It only took a couple strides for him to be in front of you, plucking the cigarette from his lips as he took the whiskey from your hand. Smoke engulfed your senses, and the sense of danger grew with his closeness. 

Whoring was a risky line of work; like he said, saloons often bred evil. You weren’t a stranger to a man who got too aggressive, leaving bruises and blood in his wake. Bucky didn’t seem angry; he seemed amused by you, if anything. But you had to remind yourself that he was an outlaw, and most outlaws weren’t strangers to bloodshed. 

“Are you… Are you gonna hurt me?” You asked, your voice weak as you pressed yourself harder into the dresser. He gave you a look and coughed a little, as if bothered by your assumption, as he downed the whiskey. 

“What? No. I just wanna talk. I might be a bad man, but I ain’t the type to hurt a defenseless girl.” 

You visibility deflated as he backed off a few paces, placing the whiskey next to his hat as he ran a hand through his hair with a tense expression. You exhaled a sharp breath, watching the conflict cross his face. Maybe he didn’t mean to scare you; maybe he just needed someone to talk to. You’d heard of big, bad men who couldn’t be vulnerable to anyone. They were so afraid of betrayal that they ended up isolated in a room full of people. 

You could imagine Bucky like that; you almost felt sorry for the handsome man. He just wanted to talk; that couldn’t hurt, right? Your skirts swept across the creaky wood floors as you strode beside him, seating yourself between him and the bottle of whiskey. His azure eyes assessed you with a look of mild surprise.

“What… What do you want to talk about?” You finally cut into the silence. 

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself? How you ended up in a place like this?” He questioned, taking a seat beside you. Your thighs bumped together through the fabric, yet you didn’t lean away. “I always see girls like you in these places – gentle women who fell off at some point. Most of the time, it ain’t even their fault. I guess that’s what happened to you, sweetheart.”

You contemplate his words, plucking the still-smoking cigarette from his lips. He doesn’t protest as you inhale the smoke, tilting your head in thought. “It ain’t a happy story.” You confess.

“Don’t need to be. Sometimes I just need a reminder that whatever god is watching over us is just as cruel as us men can be.” His arms brushed yours as he leant over, retrieving the whiskey from beside you. Careful not to exhale smoke directly in his face, you turn your head to watch out the window as you wonder where to start. The sky was so blue outside, just as blue as Bucky’s eyes. It was alluring in a deceptive way; the summer heat beat down on Silverton relentlessly. Sometimes you were glad to work inside instead of out in that brutality. 

“My momma died when I was young. Cholera.” You begin, “Broke my daddy’s heart. He was a doctor, good one before momma died. I guess not being able to save her broke him. He fell into drink, gamblin', and whorin’. Barely made his appointments, so I had to help him run the office, cleanin’ up and sometimes stitchin’ up the fools that came in when he was too drunk to do it himself. Eventually he couldn’t afford to feed me no more; he could barely care for himself, let alone a child.” You pause to extinguish the last of the cigarette on the bedside table, the scorch mark joining a collection of older ones. Ghosts and memories of the place you sat in.

“So, my daddy, he sent me away to live with my uncle and aunt. They had a homestead not too far from here; my uncle and cousin were ranchers and moved cattle mostly. I liked it out there in the open; I would go ridin’ and watch the sun rise and set. My aunt would worry I would get robbed or worse, ridin’ alone out there. I was still a girl, really. I didn’t care nor really know how evil this place could be.” Bucky hummed in acknowledgement as you spoke, fingers brushing off some ash that had fallen onto your skirt. 

“I would help out on the ranch too; I liked that work. It felt like real work. Good, rewarding work. I liked the animals, playing with the dogs and ridin’ the horses to move the cattle.” Your gaze pulled away from the window, instead turning your head to watch as Bucky took another long drink from the whiskey.

“Then, my uncle died. Gored by his own bull one morning, I tried to save him, but he lost too much blood. It was all so sudden, weren’t nothing we could do. My aunt, she couldn’t bear to live there no more, decided to sell the place. She said she couldn’t take me wherever she was going with my cousin. They were using the money to buy a new ranch back east and couldn’t afford to keep me on no more. She said to write to my daddy and continue working as his assistant until I found a man to marry.” 

“What happened to your pa?” Bucky asked, the liquid sloshing in the bottle as he swirled it in his hands. You took a moment to shamelessly stare at the way the veins bulge over the muscles and tendons. 

“Don’t know.” You finally admit with a sigh. “Never replied to my letter. Either didn’t want me back or is buried somewhere and no one thought to tell me. So I went to the nearest town to find a job; ain’t no one want to hire a woman ‘cept for in this place. I decided whorin’ was better than starvin’.”

“Real shame. I bet a sweet girl like you could’ve made it in one of those cities back east. Married some big shot, lived life comfortably in one of those fancy city manors.” Bucky hummed. You knew the type of places he was talking about – massive manors filled with staff and shiny, expensive things. Hell, you could imagine Bucky having robbed a place like that while the inhabitants were out at social evenings with the rest of the upper class. 

“Maybe. I don’t think I could ever live in a city.” You confess with a shrug. “I like the open air, the emptiness of it all. I don’t get to see it much in this place, but I remember what it was like when I used to go ridin’ all those years ago.”

Bucky’s eyes trailed across your face. “I understand what you mean. I don’t stay in places long, get cold feet. I live in the open; I like traveling without being stuck in one spot.” 

“How did you end up livin’ the way you do?” You ask hesitantly, watching his thoughtful expression flicker into a more somber one. 

“It ain’t much of a clear story like yours. Absent pa, my momma had it rough raising us kids by herself. I got caught up in bad business, thievin’, killin’ and such. Once I got into it, I didn’t know how to get out. I made friends with similar stories; we all wanted to stay doing what we do so we could look out for each other. All of us just wanna stay out in that open; just keep headin’ west, knowin’ we’ll be buried in a place civilization has yet to meet.” His words were brief, and it was obvious to you that he had more of a connection to the outlaws he surrounded himself with than he did with his own blood. 

“Don’t you ever want to settle down some day?” You ask.

“Nah. Once you got the west in your bones, you’re lost to that life.”

You consider his words in silence, drowning out the sounds of other girls working in the surrounding rooms. You understood what he meant; it felt like you hadn’t left those open plains since you first discovered them. You missed riding without a care, the wind tangling your hair as you navigated the emptiness of it all. 

“Well. When you’re out there ridin’ in the empty, you’ll think of me? Some sad saloon girl who just wanted to ride out in the open?” You ask, eyes dipping behind your lashes as Bucky flashes you a genuine smile. 

“‘Course, sweetheart.”

—

Bucky and his friends hung around longer than both you and the other girls expected. Men like them usually only hung around for a few days or less. From Crowley’s muttering, it seemed the law didn’t show interest in them. Either that or the boys were keeping their heads down. 

Most mornings Bucky would come visit you, his two friends switching between drinking and sampling the other girls. Bucky’s eyes never seemed to stray from you, always finding you at the bar with a ‘hey sweetheart’ muttered with the scent of whiskey and leather. You started to enjoy his company, the stories and thoughts the both of you shared. 

Every time he visited, he would pay, neatly stacking the coins on the dresser. He always gave double your rate, a rugged smirk and wink sent your way as he slipped out the door. You found yourself waiting and looking for him each day, lingering near the bar until he and his friends sauntered in. 

Today was no different than any of your other meetings. Half a bottle of whiskey down, the two of you were talking about thoughts and worries you’d never thought to voice. The summer heat was worse than usual, and the saloon was crowded with working men slick with sweat and tempers to match the scorch outside. 

You sat now perched on the windowsill; the window cracked open despite the lack of wind. With your skirts and petticoat bunched up to your thighs to fight the heat, you dangled your legs through the air nonchalantly. A cigarette hanging from your lips as you carelessly stared out at the stretch of blue skies beyond. Bucky had carefully placed his hat on the dresser; his coat peeled off as he watched you from across the room. 

“Do you know what time the law go on their lunch break?” Bucky asked into the silence. Often, when a lull presented itself, the outlaw would break the quiet by questioning you about your clients or the townspeople of Sliverton.

“One o’clock, sometimes two if they’re dealin’ with trouble.” You respond easily, exhaling smoke out the window. It took you a beat to think about his question, your eyebrows drawing together. “Why?” You question.

It was an obvious conclusion to be suspicious: why was an outlaw asking about the law’s schedule? You’d noticed how Bucky’s interest often peaked at the mention of the law, the bank tellers, and sometimes even the gunsmith. You had mentioned how the manager of the bank was a cruel man, often leaving the girls with bruises. The group of you would draw lots when he came in, that or hope he would get too drunk to perform. 

As for the law, they often mixed business with pleasure. During their lunch break, they would often call down the girls to the sheriff’s office to work while they drank over a game of poker. You had been invited a couple times and mentioned it to Bucky off-hand a few days ago. 

“I heard some rumors about a bounty in this area, wanted to stop by when they weren’t… busy.” Bucky replied, a small amount of guilt growing in your chest at your unspoken accusation. The two of you had been open with each other these past weeks. 

“A bounty?” You question. “What are you doing gettin’ involved in that business?” You look over at him. The outlaw chuckles under his breath, his callused hand sweeping through his hair as he leans back further in his seat. 

“Takes an outlaw to catch an outlaw sometimes, sweetheart.” 

You chew on his words for a moment, shrugging with acceptance after not much thought. You could see what he meant; only outlaws were generally cocky enough to risk their lives for coin. That, and they would probably know where another might hide, having lived in their shoes. 

“You do that work often?” 

“Sometimes,” he hums in reply. “Only when we’re tight for coin.”

You swing your feet down to the wooden floors, your bare skin sticky against the warm wood. Once more, heat envelops your figure as your skirts descend to your shins. Bucky watches with interest as you put out your cigarette, stalking towards where he sits. 

“If you’re short, why are you out here spendin’ double on me?” You ask softly, pausing in front of him. His eyes dart upwards, examining your face with a gentle look.

“Sometimes you gotta make sacrifices for a pretty lady.”

You feel your cheeks flush at his words. Normally compliments made your skin crawl and your mouth turn sour, but Bucky had grown on you. Your hand moves towards him before you can think, resting gently on his shoulder. 

“I might regret sayin’ this but… I ain’t worried about the money. I do like our chats for other reasons than the coin.” You stumble over your words, a smug smirk growing on Bucky’s face. 

“Now, sweetheart, I don’t wanna be putin’ ya out of business talking to a fool like me–” Bucky doesn’t get to finish his words, much to your disappointment. Instead, you jerk back in surprise as the door is thrown open. 

In the doorway stands one of Bucky’s friends; you recognized him from his time in the saloon. His face was pink from the heat, and messy blond hair poked out from under his hat. A boyish grin spread across his cracked lips. You noted how large his stature was, nearly taking up the entire door frame. His chest must have been muscled beneath his dirt-stained shirt, his forearms bulging where the fabric had been pulled back to his elbows to combat the heat. 

“I see why you spend so much time here, Buck. She’s a pretty little thing, ain’t she?” Steve comments. You swallow thickly, glancing at Bucky, who sighs through his nose in annoyance. Any tenderness has left his expression, replaced with cold annoyance. 

“This is Steve.” The outlaw explains to you, getting to his feet. “What is it?” 

You recognized that name; Bucky had mentioned Steve over the past weeks. Steve had been one of his childhood friends who had followed him down the path of an outlaw. Bucky had told you how the two would pickpocket so they would have enough to eat. They had robbed and shot their way west; they fucked their way too, apparently. Bucky had mentioned how the two of them enjoyed their ladies, sometimes taking them at the same time in the same room. 

You couldn’t help but let your mind linger on that thought as you studied the blond man. His eyes were looking you up and down eagerly, lingering on your pronounced breasts due to your corset.

“Sam… er, Sam needs to talk.” Steve finally responds, hesitant and careful with his words, as if he didn’t want you to know the true meaning behind his interruption. As you look back over at Bucky, who has crossed over to the dresser, he nods at Steve in silent understanding. 

You bite your tongue as the two outlaws share an unspoken conversation, Bucky returning his precious hat to his head. As usual, you watch as he stacks double your rate on the end of the dresser, a secret, cocky smirk sent in your direction as he slips into the hallway.

“Why is he payin’ you that much? You got gold between your legs or somethin’?” Steve questions, having glanced at the pile left behind. You simply huff at him, slamming the door shut in his face. Through the door, you can hear him bellow out a laugh. 

—

It was a lazy Thursday afternoon when the first shots were heard. Silverton was not unfamiliar with a bit of violence; the occasional exchange of bullets was easy to grow accustomed to. That Thursday was no different, you’d thought, that was until the bullets grew more frequent. Shots rang through the town, sending people scattering into nearby buildings or braving the streets with revolvers in hand. 

That increase in sound blasting through the swelteringly hot afternoon was what made you pause. You were upstairs fixing your updo after a client. Placing the last pin between your strands, you moved to walk cautiously into the hallway. Glancing over the staircase railing, you look into the main bar area. Silence had fallen over the saloon, with chairs and tables empty as if the last patrons had fled. 

Your eyes land on Charlotte, who stood next to the bar, exchanging a worried conversation with Crowley. Quickly, you glance back down the hallway, noting the girls and guests who peeked their heads from their rooms in similar morbid curiosity. 

It felt wrong to linger upstairs listening to the massacre below; instead, you found yourself opting to join Charlotte and Crowley. As you descend the stairs, carefully lifting your skirts so as not to trip on them, Charlotte peaks up at you. 

“Somebody’s robbin’ the bank.” She quickly explains, catching your nervous expression. A bit of relief floods your veins. As loud and violent as that could be, the robbers weren’t likely to hang around for a drink. 

“Sounds like a slaughter out there.” You grumble in reply, finding your usual spot by the bar. Crowley looked mostly unphased, shining his glasses with a faint shake of his head. “You think they’re gonna get away with it?”

“Old man Billy ran by and said they ambushed the sheriff's office before they headed to the bank.” Crowley cuts in, placing the now-clean glass down. “Guessin’ there's still a few of them alive if they’re still shootin’. Pretty smart of them robbers to get them while they were on lunch break.”

A pit of dread grows in your stomach, your eyes glancing to the clock above the bar. Quarter past one. 

“Were any of our girls down that way?” Charlotte asks with worry, but your focus was instead turned to the dusty road outside. You hoped, if not prayed, that if you caught a glimpse of those robbers, it would not be Bucky and his friends. You couldn’t help but feel a crawling guilt, the possibility that maybe you had been duped into giving an outlaw information. You could not handle the deaths of so many on your shoulders. You knew if your careless words had caused it, it would be squarely your fault. 

“No, thank God. Law sent word they didn’t want girls today. Maybe they knew somethin’ was up.” Crowley replies, but you are hardly present in the conversation, instead shifting closer towards the window. You knew it was dangerous, but the pit of worry and guilt was growing in your stomach; you just needed confirmation.

Charlotte let out a sudden and piercing scream as one of the saloon’s windows shattered, a stray bullet richoeing and landing in one of the tables with a thud. “Get away from the windows!” she shrieks at you. 

Only as your brain recognizes the danger do you move away, rigidly walking to Charlotte’s side once more. The woman grabs at your arm, beginning to tug you behind the bar as you cast one last glance out the windows. 

Nausea crawls in your stomach, and bile rises in your throat as Charlotte tugs you to the floor behind the bar. Amongst the gunshots and dead bodies, you saw the group of masked figures emerge from the bank onto the streets. Just a brief moment, a glance, and your world was left spiraling as your breathing grew faster and ragged. Any other person may have looked at those figures and been oblivious, but you had spent weeks tucked away in the upstairs room with Bucky. You could recognize him even with a mask on, with his muscled form and leather hat. Bucky was out there, standing over dead bodies with a shotgun in hand. And it was all your fault. 

Conversations long past swirl in your mind; how many times had Bucky shifted the topic to be about the law, the bank tellers, or the townsfolk of Silverton? How many times had he tricked you into revealing information that wasn’t supposed to go beyond your ears? So many times clients had confided in you, and you had just passed on the information like it were some inside joke between the two of you. 

Charlotte flinched and trembled beside you as the gunshots and shouting grew louder. You could only stare at the clock above and spiral. Crowley remained in place, cleaning glasses with a cold expression as if he alone could ward off any evil. 

Outside, the voices grew louder and angrier. 

“Well, it ain’t me who shot the doctor!”

“He can’t ride like this!”

“You better be fuckin’ right about this Barnes or we’re all dead!” 

Charlotte's hands dug into your arms, pulling you closer as the wooden planks of the boardwalk outside grew alive with the sound of stomping boots. Crowley’s glass cleaning paused as the saloon doors were slammed open in a hurry. Crowley’s mouth opened, meaning to speak to the men who had just stormed in. No words came out; instead, the spray of blood, chunks of flesh, and skull decorated the surrounding area as a bullet was fired directly into his skull.

Beside you, Charlotte shrieks once more as Crowley's body slumped to the floor with a hollow thud. You clamp your hand over her mouth, shushing her as you pull her closer. Your body is trembling, and bile is still stuck in your throat. You try not to focus on the way that Crowley’s brain matter had sprayed across your skin, dewy drops of crimson like a mist. You could feel the moisture, smell and taste the copper in the air. All you could do was try to keep as quiet as possible as the armed outlaws prowled only feet away. 

The next thing to catch your attention is the sound of groaning and hissing, the unmistakable sound of someone in pain. Chairs and tables screech as if they are being pulled together while bullets still rain outside. You try to blindly piece the scene together in your mind, trying to understand why the outlaws had gathered here with lawmen so closely on their tail.

“They can’t hold them off for long out there. One of the law got away; we reckon he’s headed up Deadwood way to get back up.” A woman's voice shouts over the chaos. 

“Where’s your girl then, Barnes? Better be worth it.” A male voice snaps. Through Charlotte's panting and the gunshots, you can hear the thunder of boots storming up the stairs. 

“Someone get me some fuckin’ whiskey.” The injured man speaks through gritted teeth. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, hoping whoever goes to retrieve the liquor doesn’t spot both you and Charlotte quivering in the corner. You press your back harder against the bar, pulling Charlotte closer into your side as she lays her head across your chest while silent sobs shake her body. 

“Barnes! Hurry up!” The woman shouts up the stairs in annoyance, only to be met with no reply. The gunshots outside began to slow, the law seemed to be losing this shootout. 

Heavy boots fall closer, a large figure rounds the corner of the bar. To your horror, he spots the two of you immediately, and even worse, it’s Steve. You recognize him quickly, with his sunburnt cheeks and blond hair and a mask still tied around his neck. His expression was one of relief but also of worry. When you last saw him, he was all smirks and flirting. You imagined it was probably a sight to see both you and Charlotte trembling behind the bar, covered in the contents of Crowley’s skull. 

“She’s here, Buck.” Steve called out, your blood turning to ice. 

A few days ago, you wouldn’t have been afraid of Steve or Bucky. Foolish, you now realize. It was foolish to get so close to danger and not feel her power. You didn’t know what these outlaws wanted from you, but you weren’t going to give it easily.

Steve stepped over Crowley’s body, and you shake your head. Beside you, Charlotte began to sob loudly, her nails digging into your skin. Between her panicked breathing, you could’ve sworn she was chanting, ‘Please God, I don’t want to die.’ under her breath. The woman you had once known was gone, in complete submission to fear. No more coy smiles and soft touches; no more fearlessness in the face of dangerous men. Charlotte was terrified, and so were you. 

“Don’t touch me.” You warn Steve, but he ignores your request. His large hands wrap around Charlotte’s waist, tugging her away. She let out a terrified scream, grabbing and scratching at your arms in an attempt to hold on. Steve’s arms proved stronger, finally wrenching Charlotte away and ushering her away. 

Steve’s attention now turned to you, a gruff sigh leaving his nose as he noticed your defiant look. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, pretty girl.” 

You shove his hands away, the two of you briefly struggling before Steve finally finds a grip around your waist and hoists you to your feet. 

“I said don’t fuckin’ touch me!” You shout at the blond, shoving and hitting at his chest. He grumbles in annoyance, trying to grasp your arms to stop the movement. Behind you, Charlotte is making a noise somewhere behind a sob and a scream as one of the unfamiliar men drags her out from behind the bar. 

You back away further from Steve, still shoving and pushing him away. Only when your back meets something warm and solid does he stop his advance. Spinning around, you stand face-to-face with Bucky. His scent is the same: leather, but this time with a dash of gunpowder. Small blood splatters decorate his skin and clothing. As he grasps your wrists to stop your struggle, you unconsciously note how his knuckles are bruised and split. 

“No...” is all you manage to utter, Bucky tilting his head with a frown as tears begin to streak down your face. You had been foolish enough to trust him and his rugged, handsome looks. You had blindly answered his questions without a care for the consequences because he had been kind and mysterious. He had told you himself he was an outlaw, a bad man. Now how many lives weighed on you too? Even Crowley’s blood was on your hands, literally and metaphorically. 

Bucky’s hand reached up tenderly to wipe the tears from your cheek, his frown only deepening as you flinched away from his touch. 

“As touchin’ as this is, we don’t have the time for this, Barnes.” The woman’s voice from earlier spoke up. Now that you are standing, you could look over to see her. She had a wicked look, messy red hair, and a cut across her cheek. A rifle slung across her shoulder, a revolver, and a knife at her hip. She assessed you with a look of annoyance, a scowl painted across her sharp lips. 

With an annoyed grunt, Bucky obliged the woman’s request. His hand wrapped around your wrist as he tugged you back onto the main floor. You tried to ignore the hole in Crowley’s face as you were forced to step over his body, your shoes slipping in the pool of slick blood gathering on the wood floors. 

“What do you want? You comin’ in here to kill us all too?” You ask, your voice raspy from the tears. Charlotte lingered near the staircase, still sobbing, as a younger man growled in annoyance at the sound. 

“You think I’m here to kill you after everythin’, sweetheart? No. I need your help with somethin’.” Bucky questions, sounding a bit dismayed at your sudden fear. You swallow hard, trying to contain the tears that continue to freely stream down your face. 

“Crowley is dead.”

“Yeah, well, that was unfortunate.” He grumbles, displeased. 

“You’re a bastard, you know that?” You snap at him.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I need ya to stitch up my friend here.” Bucky shrugs off your insult, instead tilting his head in the direction of a bloody sight. Your body shakes with each step, and you feel as if you are only held upright by Bucky’s firm grip, guiding you to a set of tables that have been pulled together. On top lies a man, older and with greasy black hair. Blood stains his shirt, and there is an obvious bullet wound in his lower abdomen. Sweat beads line his brow, his eyebrows drawn together as he battles the pain. You stare at him speechless, watching as Steve returns from behind the bar with a bottle of whiskey. 

“Here ya are, Stark.” The blond mutters, shaking his head, as the injured man eagerly chugs the liquor down. For the pain, you think. He’s drinking it for the pain. You try to attach yourself to thoughts and knowledge you recognize, distracting the noise in your brain in the hopes that your hands and legs will stop trembling. You can barely think, and Bucky wants you to stitch him up?

Charlotte’s wailing doesn’t help your case, nor does it seem to quell the tempers rising in the room. Stark speaks up between gulps of whiskey. “Someone, for the love of God, stop her wailing or shoot the damn woman!” 

The younger, twitchy man makes a loud noise of agreement, revolver in hand, as he points it directly at Charlotte’s forehead. Charlotte’s sobbing becomes uncontrollable, curling in on herself as she wraps her arms around her middle in defense. Your breath comes short, and your shaking hands grip Bucky’s bicep for comfort as you watch in horror.

“Her daddy was shot–” You suddenly blurt out, capturing the attention of the younger man. “He was shot in front of her; this type’a stuff upsets her. You understand?” Your tone was desperate, near begging. You don’t know why you said it, but you hoped maybe the man would have sympathy for her. Charlotte had confided in you about nightmares once; you didn’t know who else knew about the darkness in her life. The young man stares at you for a moment, his hand running over the non-existent stubble with an irritated sigh. 

“You women are so fragile.” He mutters, raising the gun and striking the metal across Charlotte’s face. You gasp involuntarily, ducking your head so your cheek is pressed against Bucky’s chest. Charlotte’s wailing finally comes to a stop; instead, she only sniffles quietly as she holds a hand to her face in shock. 

“Leave it, Parker.” Steve growls, prowling across the room, placing himself between Parker and Charlotte. Parker throws his hands up in surrender, instead stalking across the room to where some of the other nameless outlaws had gathered to keep watch. 

Stark growls in annoyance from the tables once more, the mixture of pain and whiskey elevating his rage. “Trust pretty boy Rogers to be a fuckin’ gentleman. I’ll shoot the bitch myself even with this bullet in me.”

“Barnes.” The red-headed woman warns, sensing the rising tension and passing time.

“What do you need to stitch him up?” Bucky pressed with questions more urgently; it was clear time was running out and stalling would end in bloodshed. 

“I can’t–” You mutter over your panicked breathing. 

“Your pa was a doctor.” Bucky interrupts. “You told me yourself that you used to stitch fools up when he was too drunk to do it himself.”

“It’s been years–”

“What do you need?” Bucky’s voice was more firm, demanding even. You note how the other outlaws lingered nearby, twitchy and ready to pull the trigger at any moment. If you continued to stall, you would surely die. So would Charlotte. You would just have to stitch Stark up as quickly as possible, and then danger would finally leave your home. 

“Clean water, cloth, and a sewing kit too.” You gasp out. “They’re upstairs in my room; the sewing kit is in the dresser.”

“Good girl.” Mumbles to you lowly, your stomach twisting as the gravelly sound. Bucky’s gaze raises to meet Steve, who quickly bounds up the stairs to retrieve the objects. 

“Must be the end of times if we’re trustin’ a whore to stitch me up.” Stark grumbles from below, you sigh heavily through your nose, trying to calm your shaking hands. Beside you, Bucky tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, as if trying to comfort you. Somehow, it gives you the courage to breathe again.

“You’re gonna want to lay off that whiskey.” You instruct Stark with a small sniff, fishing the bottle from his grip and wiping your tear-stained face. “You don’t wanna be chuckin’ that back up with a bullet in your gut, trust me.” 

Stark barks out a pained, drunken laugh in response. “Alright, little lady.” His eyes swept over to Bucky. “She always this commandin’? This why you like her in bed, Barnes?” 

Bucky lets out a sound resembling a snarl, but Steve's arrival bearing the requested items muffles any retaliation. You willed your hands to stay steady as you approached Stark, who was still writhing in pain on the table. Your father had called it ‘the calm’ or even ‘God's will’ when a doctor could quieten his worries to have a steady hand while stitching. You’d never believed in his spoutings until that moment, burying the anxiety of the situation as you instead focused your attention on the injury before you. 

With the bloodied shirt pulled up, you turned him slightly to inspect his back. No exit wound. A sharp sigh left your nose as you realized you’d have to dig around and find the bullet yourself and pray it hadn’t burst into more than one piece. Wetting some of the clean cloth, you use it to wipe away the blood from the skin, giving yourself a better view of the entry. Stark tenses and squirms involuntarily beneath your touch, hissing through clenched teeth. 

Your eyes flicker upward toward Bucky and Steve, catching their attention. “I need help holdin’ him down; he’s not gonna stay still even if he wants to.”

Stark seems irritated by your assumptions but keeps his mouth shut. The men are quick to assist you, with two men holding down his legs while Bucky and Steve take his arms and chest. You keep your eyes downcast as you easily unlatch Stark’s belt. 

“Bite.” You guide the injured man, placing the leather belt between his teeth. You’d heard stories of men biting through their own tongues, even shattering their teeth in the height of pain. Best not to take the risk. 

You take the bottle of whiskey, splashing the liquor over your hands before pausing before the wound. You glance over at Stark’s face; there is a look of determination in his eye as he nods for you to proceed. 

Stark’s body reacts instantly to the liquor, jerking against the hands that held him in place. His groans and screams are muffled through the belt as he bites down, his face growing red. Your hands are steady, and your fingers are nimble and quick as you blindly dig through the wound. Muscle constricts around your fingers, hot and sticky against your skin. 

Your heartbeat is in your ears as you search, drowning out the muffled screaming and the puffing of the men as they use all their might to restrain Stark’s squirming and jolts. Your fingers dig deeper, and a small worry grows in your gut that maybe you might not be able to locate the bullet. Blood spills from the wound, slippery copper sliding down his side and splashing onto the tables below. Your heart is in your mouth, the screams growing worse–

Your finger brushes something solid and hard; the object is slippery and small in comparison to the muscle and organ. It takes a few tries to grasp it between your fingers, with the sleek metal proving difficult to grip. 

A sharp sigh of relief leaves your body as you successfully fish it from the wound, the metal clattering to the table. Thankfully, you note that the bullet is also whole. Blood paints your skin; all you can do is wash it away with the water while Stark pants in relief. 

“How much longer?” The redhead woman asks; she has moved to linger near the doors. Outside, a few men hover with guns, as if expecting more law to turn up at any moment. 

“It is small; it won’t take long to stitch.” You explain, your hands remaining steady as you begin to thread one of the larger needles. 

The woman nods. “Make it quick.”

You follow her demands, quickly dousing the wound once more with whiskey. Stark groans, his head lulling from the mixture of drunkenness and exhaustion. If he were one of your father’s patients, maybe you would’ve comforted him and told him it was nearly over. But you were reminded of Charlotte still sniveling by the stairs, Crowley’s head blown open, and his body still slumped behind the bar. 

Empathy evades you as you dig the needle into his flesh, your mouth set into a line as you easily pull the skin together with each stitch. Stark continues to jerk and shake, his body still held steady by the outlaws who watch your movements with interest. 

Within minutes, you have tied off the thread, successfully putting Stark back together again. The outlaws seem silently relieved, if not surprised, by your efficiency as you wrap one of the clean strips of cloth around his middle like a bandage. 

“He will be able to ride?” Bucky asks as you turn back to the bowl of water, cleaning your bloodied hands. 

“The stitches will hold as long as you don’t ride too hard.” You respond, not quite meeting his eye. “If the wound keeps bleedin’ or starts festerin’ don’t give him whiskey. You can find yarrow and greasewood herbs out in the wild; they’ll help him best.”

The redhead woman makes a sound at your words, swinging around to face you. “What does a whore know about herbs? Your doctor daddy taught you that, or ya tryna poison us?”  

You pause your movements, biting your tongue at her harsh tone. “I read it in a book.” You admit sheepishly. 

The room is silent before Stark surprisingly roars with laughter, clutching his wound as he wheezes with pain at the sudden movement. “A whore that can read? Now that is a treat. What’s next? You can do arithmetic?” 

You ignore his quip, instead drying your hands on the remaining cloth. Your father had made sure you could read, though that was before he spiraled into an early grave. Your cousin had helped you as well, the older boy providing you with stories and adventures to consume. You missed the simplicity of those days, riding the horse and moving the cattle without a care for the real world. 

You were pulled away from your thoughts as Bucky gently touched your arm, seemingly having forgotten your new-found distaste for him. You flinch away from his touch like a skittish animal, sidestepping as you quickly depart his side in favor of Charlotte’s. The woman was still crouched near the staircase, shivering, with a large bruise developing across her cheek and her lip split and bloody. 

You can feel Steve hovering nearby, his expression cold as he watched you usher Charlotte to her feet. You knew his irritation wasn’t with you or Charlotte but rather with Parker, who had struck the woman. 

“Is she going to be–” Steve begins to question as you guide Charlotte up the first few steps. You look back, scowling over your shoulder at the outlaw. 

“Don’t.” You hiss at him, watching as he nods in meek surrender. 

Charlotte is slow to walk; her footsteps are clumsy as she shivers and whimpers in your arms. The redhead woman watches the both of you with an expression of distaste. Below the men gather their wits and guns, Stark teeters in place as he gets to his feet with a cocky expression. His gaze follows the woman's, dark eyes landing on the both of you, lingering a few steps up. 

“Hold on there, little lady!” Stark booms up, his words still slightly slurred from the liquor and exhaustion. Charlotte freezes in place, hands clasped rigidly on your arms. You glance back at Stark, hoping he means to just announce their departure instead of demanding your skills once more. 

“There ain't no doctors out in the wild; what am I supposed to do if this wound splits open? Get one of these fools to stitch it up?” He asks, his mouth curled into a cruel smile. The outlaws shift their weight, as if they are also unsure as to where this is going. 

“Find another town to terrorize?” You suggest tugging Charlotte so she is positioned behind you, hidden from their view. 

“Nah…” Stark drawls, staggering a few steps, a revolver swinging on his finger. “I think… it would be easier if you just came along with us.” 

“What?” Bucky and the redhead woman bark in unison before you can react. Your grip on Charlotte tightens, blocking out the bickering between the outlaws below as you tilt your head to whisper to her. 

“Run.” You mutter, dragging Charlotte up the stairs behind you. You had no plan other than to escape. There was no point in fighting out the front door, instead you would have to risk climbing out one of the upstairs windows–

A shot rings out behind you, and Charlotte's body suddenly becomes a dead weight. You can feel the spray of moisture across the back of your neck, but don’t dare turn to see the sight. 

“Did you really need to do that?” Steve shouts from somewhere below, the sound of unfamiliar, wicked laughter carrying up the stairs. Your heartbeat is so loud you can’t hear anything else, only the distorted voices of the outlaws below. Your mouth tastes like blood as you top the stairs, gripping the railing as you turn to race down the hallway.

A pair of hands grasp around your middle, tugging you backward. A scream, louder and more violent than any of Charlotte's, leaves your throat as you thrash in the grip, scratching and kicking as the chuckling man carries you down the stairs. 

“You sure you want her, Stark? She seems like a handful.” The unfamiliar outlaw carrying you asks. 

“Don’t look so pressed, Barnes. My aim’s good enough not to shoot your girl. You got a real thing for her, haven’t ya?” Parker remarks with a grin. 

Sobs escape you as you struggle in the crushing grip of the outlaw, any sense of your father’s mythical ‘calm’ or ‘Gods will’ leaving your body. Animal instinct takes over; Charlotte was dead. Crowley was dead. In a blind panic, you bite down on the arm of your captor, the man yelping in pain and dropping you instantly. 

Your knees bite with pain as you slam into the hard, wooden floors. After stumbling to your feet, you turn to resume your escape. Your attempt is short-lived, as you are stopped by a familiar body. Leather and gunpowder. You bury your head into his chest, exhaustion and fear taking over as you silently beg Bucky to protect you.

“See! She’s got the spirit. We’ll make an outlaw out of you yet.” Stark remarks with another cruel laugh. “And if your stitching proves useless, you can always prove your worth with what's between your legs.” 

The redhead woman lets out an annoyed grumble at that, and over the cackling of the men, you hear her march out of the saloon to ready the horses. 

“Come on,” Bucky mutters to you, guiding you towards the door. You dig in your feet, nausea rising as you watch the men mount their horses through the windows. 

“I don’t want to.” You sobbed quietly. The brunet outlaw sighs, his movements hesitating as if he were conflicted. 

“I can’t do anything to change Stark’s mind–”

“And when you deem me useless? Are you going to shoot me like Crowley, like… like Charlotte?” Your voice quivers and shakes; your vision blurred from the tears streaming down your face. You had hated this place; you had felt its evilness and oppression. But it was your home; it held your friends. You weren’t ready to leap into the unknown or trust these men who had hurt you. To trust Bucky, who had tricked and betrayed you.

“This is not how this was supposed to go.” Bucky mutters under his breath, then, without asking, scoops you over his shoulder to forcefully carry you from the building. Through sobs, you squirm, his shoulder digging into your stomach as you watch the saloon slowly be ripped away from you with each step. 

“Put me down.” You gasp at him as he finally exits the building. “Bucky– Bucky please just put me down–” 

The outlaw obliges, dumping you on your feet next to a horse. “Get on.” He instructs. 

You shake your head, pushing at his chest. “No.”

“Get on the horse.” He demands once more, guiding you towards the horse’s side. 

You begin to push him away harder, with the other outlaws watching as you sob between hitting and struggling as Bucky tries to persuade you to get on the horse. His patience seems to quickly grow thin, and the watchful eyes of his peers grow equally impatient with hateful sneers. 

His hands move quickly, grasping your wrists and tugging you closer to his chest. You freeze as he lowers his head, his hat brushing your hair as he whispers in your ear. 

“If you don’t get on, these boys are gonna tie you up and drag you behind. We don’t want that, do we now? So what is it, all tied up or sitting pretty, sweetheart?” His gravelly, low voice sends a shudder down your spine, your eyelids fluttering shut briefly. 

“I’ll get on.” You mutter back quietly, pulling back. Bucky nods, pleased, his thumb brushing away the tears on your cheek. 

“Good choice.” 

With a shuddering breath, you grip the horn of the saddle, swinging your legs over to mount the horse. It had been months since you last rode, but the muscle memory remained embedded deep in your mind. Bucky was quick to mount up too, his body sliding in behind you while one of his hands lazily wrapped around your waist, reins in the other. 

The band of outlaws were quick to move once everyone was situated, with fearful townsfolk peering out their windows as the herd moved past in a cloud of dust. You tried to ignore the dead bodies that lined the street, their blood staining the loose dirt. You couldn’t let your brain slip into a dark place, thinking of Crowley and Charlotte still warm in the saloon. A nauseous feeling of dread consumed your being as you noted the blood still splattering up your arms and dress, the rocking motion of the cantering horse beneath you not helping. 

You found yourself leaning back into Bucky, the only sturdy thing nearby. Your head lay back against his shoulder as you looked up at the blue skies above, the heat beating down on your exposed skin. 

The pace only slowed as the outlaws felt they had traveled far enough to evade any lawmen acting as backup. The heat had grown unbearable the further you drew from civilization; these wilds were not the ones you had frequented as a teen. There were no rivers, forests, or grass. There was only dirt, sand, and heat. These were what men meant when they spoke of the west, pure, untamed country. 

Bucky had hardly spoken, leaving you alone in your grief and sickness. He held you steady as you silently cried. Even when you could cry no more and your eyes rolled back from the heat, he continued to hold you steady, ensuring his horse kept an even gait. 

The silence was finally broken as Steve slowed his horse, falling in step with the two of you at the back of the party. 

“She ain’t looking too great, Buck.” The blond commented, leaning in his saddle to inspect you closer. You shied away from his eyes, pressing closer to Bucky. 

“It’s the heat.” Bucky murmured in response, his gaze fixed ahead. The redhead woman had slowed her own horse, glancing back at the interaction with interest. 

“Here.” Steve says, retrieving a waterskin from the pack on his saddle. Unscrewing the top, he passes it to Bucky, who in turn offers it to you. You groan, pushing the offer away. At that moment, you’d have rather become one with the bleached bones of the desert. 

Bucky huffs sharply, lifting the waterskin to your lips. 

“Drink,” he commands. “You lost too much energy crying and wailing back there.”

As soon as the earthy, warm water graces your lips, a survival instinct kicks in, and you greedily take a few gulps before finding the strength to push the waterskin away. Bucky seems happy enough with the amount you have taken, passing it back to Steve. 

The blond man shakes his head while screwing the top back on. “I don’t know what Stark was thinkin’ Buck; I don’t think she’s gonna make it out here.” 

Bucky seems to sigh at that, giving Steve a sidelong look. “She’ll be fine.”

Steve shrugs, nudging his horse forward to catch up with the redhead woman. Through your squinted eyes, you make out the two of them exchanging some hushed words. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Steve don’t know what he’s talking about.” Bucky reassures you, one of his large hands patting your thigh. 

“What if he’s right?” You question, your voice cracked and raspy. 

“There’s no need to worry.” He says it with a hum, accompanied by a small squeeze of your thigh. “I’ll look after you, pretty lady.”

[f1amboyant]

for the angsty prompts : charlos + "I give up. You won."

Hi anon! Thank you for the prompt!! This fits so perfectly into my current WIP (single dad charles au) and the scene I'm working on, I had to answer this way. I hope you don't mind 🤭 Here's a snippet for Training Season.

⚽️🍹🍺🎯

Carlos led him to the bar where they ordered new drinks (Charles chose the red cocktail, just because he liked the color, and also a bit because Carlos said he would probably like it) (Carlos took another beer, not daring to try anything new and because ‘it’s all for you tonight, cariño’). Charles tried very hard not to blush but his cheeks felt as red as his cocktail and it didn’t look like they were gonna go back to normal anytime soon.

“Do you know how to play darts?” Carlos asked.

“I mean, you throw the pointy things at the round thingy and try to score the most points, no?”

“More or less,” Carlos chuckled.

Turned out, Charles didn’t really know how to play darts, but Carlos did. And after a bit of teasing, he stepped closer to Charles.

“You take the dart like this. No, put your hand a little more like this,” he instructed, placing his own hand over Charles to show him exactly how. Their skin burned together and Charles’ heart kept beating faster and faster. “Okay, yes, like this, that's good.”

“Like this?”

The dart went flying, almost hitting the bullseye and Charles whooped. That was so much better than what he had done previously. Carlos truly was a good teacher (not that Gab hadn't said it before). But staring at the smug smile on Carlos’ lips, Charles wouldn't give him the opportunity to boast.

“It's on!” he shouted, probably louder than he should have. “You shouldn't have shown me. I'm gonna beat you now.”

“Oh really?”

“Really! Come on, come on, it's your turn.”

Charles really really wanted to win. But Carlos was good and just as competitive as Charles was. They both yelled at the board when they missed the mark, they both laughed high when the other failed until, despite all his efforts (including blocking Carlos’ view and then his arm and then both at the same time) Charles lost. He had laughed though. A lot. And he absolutely loved it. A new glass, blue this one, rested on the side, empty, his content poured into Charles’ stomach (and a little on his shirt when he had tried to cheat and block Carlos’ eyes). He felt a little dizzy but so elated he barely even noticed. He hadn’t felt like this in… well actually, he didn't think he had ever felt like this. Not since Gabriel at least.

“Okay, okay,” Charles finally said after Carlos beat him one too many times, and looking way too smug about it. “I give up. You won.”

“Say that again?” Carlos teased.

“Nope. Let's play something else.” He looked around the bar, spotting a new game on the other side. “I'm sure I can beat you at pool.”

“Can you, now?”

“Yes, let's go!"

⚽️🍹🍺🎯

-> angsty sentence starters -> ask box -> single dad!Charles au

[icallhimjoey]

I call him Joey, just to feel something

so there we go.

Joe Quinn fanfiction one shots (updated 4 setember 2024)

That Better? - lil angsty, lil fluffy Summary: It's hot. It's humid and hot. You're uncomfortable, sticky, sweaty, and you feel disgusting. However, Joe doesn't give a shit. Needs his cuddles to get his sleep, no matter how grumpy it makes the both of you feel. Wordcount: 1.5K

Boy Of My Dreams - lil angsty, lil fluffy Summary: You have one of those nightmares that you're not really able to shake, and then Joe turns up as the bad guy and you wake up in a weird state. It's okay though. Joey fixes it. Wordcount: 1.5K

Five More Minutes - fluff / lil sexy Summary: Muttering "five more minutes" after waking up is something most people do, but somewhere along the line, you and Joe have taken it to a whole 'nother level. Wordcount: 2.5K

Cotton Soft Touches Gentle Voices Smooth - fluff Summary: Joe's got some work to finish, but it's difficult when his girlfriend is all snuggled up on the sofa, looking like she's just about the most comfortable a person has ever been. Wordcount: 1.8K

Just A Man - fluff Summary: Joe witnesses someone flirt with you, and, listen, Joe can take a lot, okay? But an Italian bartender making his girl laugh from where he can hear it across the hotel pool is just a little too much, all right? Wordcount: 1.7K

What Else - hurt/comfort Summary: You come home after a long shift, and your feet hurt, and you've got balled up toilet paper in your underwear, and peole are so fucking rude, and Joe is so happy and you're not. Wordcount: 1.8K

I Want To Hold Your Hand - fluff, hurt/comfort Summary: Bookstore!Joe is back for another store visit, and he thinks he wants a lot of things, but really, when he finds you hiding in the breakroom all day, all he truly wants to do is hold your hand. Wordcount: 2.4K

Lost Moments To Keep - hurt/comfort Summary: Bookstore!Joe is leaving for work tomorrow and won't be able to visit the store for a while... but then you take a real bad tumble in the store and hurt your head, so how the fuck can he leave you now? Wordcount: 3K

Little Spoon Reversed - fluff Summary: Anne is grossed out after hearing people talk about being big spoon or little spoon, and Joe loves using it against her. When he asks you which one you are, you throw him a curve ball that makes his brain melt a bit. Wordcount: 2.1K

Not His Thing - hurt/comfort Summary: Joe and his friends go for a fun day out and visit a smash room together, lads on tour. You have the same plans, except yours ends up being not so fun when a shard of ceramics flies right into your face. Big whoops on Joe's part. Wordcount: 1.7K

More Than That - fluff Summary: You hadn't actually thought this through. Hadn't anticipated what it would actually be like to bring Joe, the guy who you had sex with and who tried to feed you pasta a lot, to your cousin's wedding. It's: not the best. But Joe is, so, thumbs up emoji. Wordcount: 2.6K

Funny Story, Actually - fluff Summary: You take the tube to a dinner with Joe's friends, and on your way, you run into your former boss. The one who you'd trusted with your life. The one who then went and slept with your ex-boyfriend. The one whose bag you then pissed into before meeting Joe in an empty tube lift. Wordcount: 1.8K

Drown In You - smut Summary: In the shower with Joe, words get spoken that hold nothing back. This is the cut scene, the one entirely jumped over, from part 5 of Reinvent Love, remastered in full HD for your enjoyment. Full smut, little plot (although, read Reinvent Love because it’ll help)! Wordcount: 1.8K

The Boy Is Mine - fluff Summary: Joe has work and cancels plans but, you know what, you can just come over and help him out, can’t you? It’s nerve-racking and embarrassing but, ok fine, you can come over and help him. Wordcount: 1.8K

Love Languages - fluff Summary: You and Joe try to figure out his and your love language. You're convinced you know his. But then again... do you? Wordcount: 2.2K

Still Love Me? - fluff, hurt/comfort Summary: The holiday prep is just a lot, okay? And you did something stupid and now, here you are, crying over something silly and in need of some extra affection. Good thing Joe's there. Wordcount: 1.7K

Sweet Dreams - fluff Summary: You can't sleep. Joe finds you, still wide awake, when he gets into bed and has just the trick to get you to doze off. Wordcount: 1.1K

Good Girl - 18+ Summary: Joe figures out you have an off-switch. Or, an on-switch. Depends from which angle you approach it. Would be nice if he didn't abuse his power, wouldn't it? Joe disagrees. Wordcount: 1.9K

Heartbeats All Chaos - fluff, hurt/comfort Summary: You suffer through our first panic attack with Joe in the room and whilst you are trying your best to remain calm and practice all your breathing techniques, Joe is freaking out. Wordcount: 2.1K

Girls' Night - fluff Summary: Wedding gang's back! Joe's best friend Poppy and you are starting to become better friends. Joe pretends he hates it, eye-roll, oh my god, you're so annoying, but secretly he loves it so much he can't even think about it without blushing. Wordcount: 3.4K

For You - fluff, hurt/comfort Summary: All the women who are independent, throw your hands up at me. You never ask for shit, because you don't need any help, do you? Until, suddenly, um, yes you do, and Joe gets to fucking shine. Wordcount: 3.3K

Blind Bargain - fluff Summary: You and Joe are sneaking around and you're mortified people will find out, until your flatmate sort of does, and what if she hates you because you lied to her for ages? Joe saves the day. Wordcount: 3K

Touch - fluff Summary: Joe's all grumpy and grouchy and very irritable and so annoyed and, listen, his bones creak now. Shit, he's getting old. Good thing you've got magic hands with magic fingers that hold a magic touch. Wordcount: 2.1K

But, I Love You - angst, hurt no comfort Summary: You want an evening out with Joe. Your soft ruffled mismatched outfit Joe. But you get Joseph Quinn instead and when you voice this, it all kind of... goes to shit. Wordcount: 4.1K

Inside Out & Outside In - 18+ smut Summary: In this prequel to Ground Rules (see blow) you find out what really happened on that one night, where you felt all vulnerable, and Joe was there with soft eyes and kind touches. Wordcount: 4.9K

Ground Rules - angst, fluff Summary: You accidentally fall pregnant. It’s Joe’s, but you’re not together and… so, now what? Together you figure out a system that you have to keep convincing yourselves and everyone around you will actually work.  Wordcount: 4.8K

Mine - fluff Summary: Joe talks in his sleep. Seems kind of awake, but definitely isn't. That's... that's the story? Enjoy. Wordcount: 1K

Love You A Twelve - fluff Summary: Joe has some good news and some bad news. It starts with soft beard scratches on the sofa and ends with shaving foam kisses because Joe's cute and you're cute and, gosh, shut the fuck up don't even LOOK at me right now. Wordcount: 2.9K

Alla ricerca di Cenerentola - 18+ fluff, lil smut Summary: You meet Joe at a rooftop birthday party in Rome, Italy and Joe falls in love whilst you practically inhale a full charcuterie board. You're charming like that, we get it. But then you disappear... so, now what? Wordcount: 3.5K

Soothing Serenity - 18+ lots of TOUCH Summary: Joe just happens to be the type of boyfriend that relaxes after a long day at work by putting his hands on you. And who are you to deny him? Wordcount: 1.9K

Sticky Skies - fluff Summary: You move into a new flat and meet your very cute neighbour out on your balconies when you go for a cigarette. Quick 5-minute before bed smokes turn into long two-hour before bed conversations, and you're very cute as well, so Joe can't help but love you, obviously. Wordcount: 3.5K

Infinite Fizz - 18+ smut Summary: On your last day as a temp PA, there’s no more holding back. This is the cut scene, the one entirely jumped over, from part 5 of In 120 Hours, remastered in full HD for your enjoyment. Full smut, little plot (but read 120 hours, because it'll help). Wordcount: 3.7K

Easier In Greece - fluff Summary: Joe’s in an interesting stage of life when he’s offered an equally interesting project. You whisk him off to Greece and spend eight days together on a boat with high expectations of which none turn out to be true. Wordcount: 7.9K

Saturn’s Eyes - fluff Summary: On your first date with Joe, he suddenly has an idea. He needs to show you something back at his flat. It's not sketchy, he promises. Wordcount: 2K

What's Best For Me - angst, fluff Summary: Joe's in his head and is distant for a little while which quickly has you spiraling because clearly, this is all your fault isn't it? Wordcount: 2.3K 

Forty-seven Days - fluff Summary: You’ve not seen Joe for forty-seven days, and you think he’s coming back tomorrow but he lied and surprises you at your job a day early and he’s all hands and hips and mouth. Anne hates it. Wordcount: 1.1K

Soft Hands - fluff Summary: You come home from a night out at Halloween, absolutely plastered. Joe’s waited up for you and helps you into bed safely. Wordcount: 1.9K

His Glasses - 18+ smut Summary: Um, so, Joe wears his prescription glasses out of the bedroom for the first time. All aboard the struggle bus!  Wordcount: 1.3K

There You Go - 18+ smut Summary: You go to bed way before Joe does one night, and he finds you tossing and turning, unable to stop moving, having all sorts of dreams... and so Joe helps you out, wink wink nudge nudge. Wordcount: 1.1K

What Are You Wearing - fluff, hurt/comfort Summary: You have an awful day and then Joe wears and awful outfit and it's all wrong and why does a grown man not know how to fucking dress himself?! Wordcount: 1.9K

Promise Me Both Ways - 18+ smut, fluff, hurt/comfort Summary: You've asked Joe to be a little... rougher, than he usually is. And you fucking love it, until something goes wrong, and Joe freaks out. It's fine, you LOVE it, but Joe's not so sure... Wordcount: 1.8K

-> back to home ♥

[godisaturtle]

Waywardtale seems really interesting so far, can I get some more details?(please info dump if you have time I love it when people infodump)

OK THIS MIGHT BE A BIT MESSY BC IT'S AN INFODUMP

Also I have the designs for a lot of characters! Still working on them 💔💔

EXPLANATION!!!!!!:

So this whole au revolves around Charlie, and she falls into the mountain instead of Chara, so it's like, if Chara never fell

And she's totally freaked out by the whole situation with the monsters because she was one of those homeschooled kids where their parents won't teach them things they don't want them to know, so she has no idea who or what the monsters are. Sooo she kinda kills a few monsters out of panic-- smaller ones like froggit?

But Toriel takes her in because she feels bad and also because that's just what she does

Charlie gets used to it a bit, but still has a weird grudge, especially for the people outside of the ruins? But she also doesn't exactly know who they are, not really

So flash forward a bit, they're now angsty teens and the Dreemurrs leave to New Home because the ruins are getting way too out of shape

However, Chalrie and Asriel had a huge fight, and turns out she's developed some sort of small agoraphobia? So she ends up staying in the ruins. They would've taken her with them but she didn't wanna go because she was worried about what else might've been out there

And so Charlie ends up being the new Toriel, taking care of the ruins and what not. Yknow knock knock jokes the whole shabang, but she doesn't exactly have the same bond as Toriel and Sans. Every time she hears a knock knock joke she's like "your jokes fucking suck" and Sans is like "I think they're humerous" ba dum tss and then she's like "that was awful....tell me another". Just more of Charlie needing someone to keep her company so she doesn't go absolutely insane

But the difference in this is, humans aren't really interested in the monsters rn since the whole Asriel and Chara thing didn't happen

So no one's coming down to the mountain

And Error is like "this is a waste of space???? They're literally doing nothing it's so boring" and so he starts messing up stuff in the universe to be like "oh, whoops looks like it's defective and it's totally not my fault"

Ink ends up visiting the au one day in the ruins when he's fixing whatever Error had done and Charlie finds him and she's like "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU" and he's like "NOO NO NO I'M SAFE I PROMISE LOOK" and draws some stupid looking doodle, which is probably the worst way to plead your case

They talk for a bit, be it begrudgingly, but he has to calm her down somehow. And then he finds out she's been alone all this time and decides to become her friend to keep her company. Error finds our and is like "YOU'RE RUINING MY WHOLE PLAN ARE YOU SERIOUS" His jealous rage gets the best of him for sure, but also just normal rage, and he attempts to destroy the universe

Again

And again

And again

And it's not really working

And that's all l've got

Just Ink being friends w her and distracting her from the fact that Error is probably trying to blow up that au

[noforkingclue]

Fractures Chapter 2 (James 'Spider' Webb x OC x River Cartwright)

Whoop, whoop, more angsty pining for a Wednesday afternoon!

So as this fic follows the line of the main story I have borrowed some of the dialogue from the show. Not everything, just a couple of sentences.

Hope you enjoy the pining :D

Slow Horses tag list: @cillmequick

Spider stiffened as River gripped his shoulders tightly. He leant down, locking gazes with Spider in the mirror. Spider looked around and tried to see where his barber went. Fucking hell. This wasn’t how this morning was supposed to go. Cartwright had already tricked him (loath as he was to admit that to himself) but he wasn’t going to get another one over on him.

“Do you really think that you’re going to win this?” River asked

“Win what?”

“Rebecca.”

Spider tried to sit up straight but River prevented him. River kept him firmly pushed against his chair.

“She isn’t a prize to be won.” Spider said

“Because you’re not going to win this. You think you have an upper hand because you’re at The Park but this isn’t going to happen. I will prove to Becca what you did to me. How you fucked me over and got me dumped in Slough House. How do you think she’ll look at you when she knows the truth?”

Spider looked away briefly before forcing himself to once again lock eyes with River in the mirror and smirked.

“How do you know it hasn’t happened already? A lot of stuff has gone on after you got dumped at Slough House. Has Rebecca been in contact very much?”

River gritted his teeth and Spider shrugged off his hands. He spun around in the chair and said,

“Do you really think Rebecca would want to be with someone who can’t look after her?”

“And you can?”

“I can afford to.”

“Becca isn’t like that. Besides, do you  really think she wants to be with someone who can’t even shave himself?”

“At least I can remember that Rebecca hated being called Becca.”

“Don’t think that you’re winning this, Spider.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” Spider shouted as River ran towards the door

“Have fun with Sweeney Todd.”

*

“Do you like dogs?”

Rebecca glanced over at Molly who was wheeling towards her holding a file.

“My parents had dogs on the farm,” she said, “but somehow I have a feeling those aren’t the type of dogs you mean.”

The file was shoved into her hands as Molly wheeled away.

“And remember, don’t let them in. No Dogs on my floor.”

“Right,” Rebecca grimaced as she made her way to the door, “of course.”

Rebecca never had much dealings with The Dogs. She had heard James and River mention them and from what they told her about them she didn’t fancy having too much to do with them. Still, needs must. She was always going to have to deal with them sooner or later. Everyone does.

“Good to see you.” she said brightly as she left the safety of Molly domain

It was always best to be pleasant to people even if you didn’t mean it. No need to unnecessarily get on people’s bad side. She recognised Duffy but his companion was less familiar to her.

“Blake,” said Duffy, “are you going to let us in?”

“Molly said-”

“No Dogs on her floor.”

“Correct. But she told me to give you this.”

Rebecca held out the file and smiled brightly at the two Dogs. Duffy’s companion said nothing but continued to chew his gum while Duffy practically snatched the file out of her hands. He flicked through it briefly before saying,

“What the fuck is that?”

Rebecca looked over the folder and grimaced.

“Well I didn’t study biology or anatomy or whatever it’s called,” she said, “but I think on page six of the file it says that it’s a spleen.”

The second Dog raised his eyebrows as Duffy flicked through the file. He grunted in acknowledgement and closed the file with a snap.

“Anything else?” Rebbeca asked

“No-”

Before Duffy could finish his sentence Rebecca turned on her heel and slammed the door on their faces.

“So,” said Hobbs, “that’s Spider’s girl. She doesn’t seem like much.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” said Duffy, “and if Doran is keeping her on then there’s more to her than meets the eye.”

Rebecca sighed heavily and rested against the door and banged her head softly against it. People like the Dogs were never easy to deal with.

“Are they gone.”

Rebecca opened her eyes and looked down at Molly. She nodded and said,

“Yeah, they’ve just left.”

“Webb sending Dogs round to check on you.”

“James? No, why would he be doing that?”

Molly gave Rebecca a knowing look and Rebecca quickly looked away. She could feel her face getting hot and knew that she must be bright red.

“It’s nothing like that,” she said, “we’re friends.”

“And does Webb know that.”

“He should do.”

Molly started wheeling away and beckoned Rebecca to follow her. Rebecca pushed herself off the door and followed Molly. She started pulling files off of shelves and said,

“And Cartwright Junior?”

“River? What about him.”

Another knowing look and Rebecca was sure that her cheeks were redder than her hair.

“A choice between Jackson Lamb’s slow horse and Diana Taverner’s lap dog. The choice should be simple.” said Molly

She roughly handed the files up to Rebecca.

“Now deliver those up to Fitz. He’s another person I don’t want on my floor.”

*

“You’ll break your neck if you continue to do that.”

Rebecca stopped rocking back and forth on her chair and smiled at James. He glanced up from his paperwork and gave her a soft smile.

“You don’t have to wait for me.” he said

“I know but I still owe you for dinner the other night.”

“I told you it was my treat.”

“And can’t I treat my friends?”

James looked up at Rebecca who was smiling at him. She rocked forward on her chair and rested her elbows on his desk. Finally he set aside his paperwork and matched Rebecca’s movements. He was glad it was late so no one would be able to see them like this.

“I had the displeasure of meeting some of The Dogs today.” said Rebecca, Molly words still echoing around her mind

Now this caught James’s attention. Not only because Rebecca had actually met The Dogs but because she seemed to dislike them. Rebecca was one of those people who seemed to get on with most people. The only other person that James could think that she didn’t like was one of The Park’s receptionists.

“You did?” he said, trying to keep his voice level

“Yeah Duffy and, oh what’s his name…” Rebecca trailed off and shook her head, “can’t remember. He just kept chewing gum.”

“And what did they want?”

“Just a file,” Rebecca drummed her fingers on his desk, “I can see why Molly doesn’t want them on her floor.”

She glanced at her watch and stood up, holding out a hand. James glanced at it before looking up at Rebecca, a look of confusion on his face.

“Come on,” she said, “it’s late. Let’s go home.”

Home. Fuck, he really wanted to take Rebecca back to his home. Not for anything sordid of course (he wasn’t Cartwright) but to…

To…

Fuck, he didn’t know what to do. He had never been in this position before. He saw two paths in front of him. One warm and cosy. Probably leading down to the pub, which he was increasingly seeing the appeal of, with half decent alcohol and semi edible food. The other-

“I can’t,” he replied, pulling away, “Lady Di has asked me to complete this paperwork so I need to get this done.”

“Oh,” Rebecca lowered her hand, “right. Of course. Can’t say no to Second Desk.”

James winced at the tone of her voice but Rebecca gave him a small smile and threw on her coat and picked up her bag. James had to fight down the urge to beg her to stop. To take back her hand and tell her that he’d love to go with her. That he loved her. For her to forget about River fucking Cartwright.

“I’ll see you around then.” said Rebecca softly

“Rebecca-”

“Maybe another time?”

James stood up but one look at Rebecca’s face had him sinking back down into his chair. He gave her a sharp nod and said,

“Yes, another time.”

When his office shut behind her he put his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, not caring if he ruffled it up. Besides, Rebecca always said that she preferred it like that. Maybe he should do that more often.

Fuck.

Why was this so fucking difficult?

*

“So who is she?”

River choked on the coffee that Sid had given him. Sid just raised her eyebrows at him and River quickly opened the car door and poured the coffee out.

“This is fucking awful.” he said, hoping that it cover up his mistake

“That would be the arsenic I put in it,” said Sid, “although you didn’t answer my question.”

“Which was?”

“Who is she?” siad Sid, rolling her eyes

“She?”

“You kept staring at your phone earlier today.”

“Maybe I was expecting a phone call.”

“Just maybe?”

“Fine, I was expecting a phone call.”

“Who the fuck would be calling you?”

“Job interview?”

“Now why did that sound like a question. So, who is she?”

“Still fucking concerned about my love life? Are you actually wanting to be my dating coach.”

“Fuck no. Just curious.”

River opened his mouth to argue back but shut it with a snap. He looked out of the window at Hobden’s flat. He knew that he should be concentrating on that but Rebecca kept cropping back up. Thoughts of Rebecca and Spider dominating his thoughts.

Fucking Spider.

“River?”

“Hmm?”

He looked over at Sid who was looking at him expectantly.

“She’s a friend,” he said, “from The Park.”

“A friend or a friend?”

River winced at the tone of Sid’s voice.

“Well that’s what she saw me as,” he admitted, “never could quite, well, none of that matters now. She’s there, with him, and I’m here.”

“Him?”

River glanced at Sid out of the corner of his eye. She gave him a seemingly innocent look. However, all this was doing was dragging up painful memories. Memories of what could’ve been if Spider hadn’t fucked him over. A promise made of things to be if only he hadn’t been screwed over.

“Why are you here?” he asked, desperate to change the subject off of Rebecca, “Not in the car but at Slough House.”

Anything was better than thinking about Rebecca and Spider being together.

And if he had any say in that matter, Rebecca would eventually see Spider for what he really was. He just needed to bide his time and get the proof. Then he’d be out of Slough House and hopefully Spider would be in his place.

He wasn’t going to lose this.

[rainiishowers]

Hi your highness! I was wondering if I could request Headcanons of the brothers reacting to mammon bonding with his familiars and his familiars involving themselves in his day to day life? ( for example: his crows like to bring his shiny trinkets in the morning, and his ravens like to talk to him through his time outside ect.)

A/N: Accidentally made it angsty when I wanted it to be fluffy whoops Also kinda went off the rails lmao Short Story

Seeing Mammon with his crows or ravens were common, they often came to him to report on something, or they are just looking for attention. They gift the second eldest with a lot of trinkets and some days stick with him while the brothers are walking to RAD.  Soon enough, they started to involve themselves in his daily life, not that Mammon minded, his familiars made life a lot less lonely ever since MC has left to the human world.

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Lucifer

Being the every observant brother he is, noticed that Mammon often stayed behind a bit while they walked to RAD, talking with his crows or ravens

It didn’t take a genius to notice, but Lucifer also noticed he was a lot happier when with his birds.

It wasn’t just because they gave him a lot of stuff, that was certainly one factor though

Mammon talked to them about the most obscure things and he notices that when the brothers ignore him or he isn’t being listened to, he goes to talk to his crows

One day, it was after school and he hasn’t seen Mammon, and a council meeting to wrap up the day was starting soon

He goes to find him and notices Mammon was in an empty classroom, talking to one of his ravens that got in through the window.

“..I miss the old Lucifer, the one who was an actual brother, ya know? But I’m stuck with this prideful arrogant piece of shit, who punishes me for acting on my sin when he doesn’t do that to the others.”

His eyes widen and his breath hitches

The old him?

“I almost regret followin’ him in that war..”

He lets out an audible gasp but was quick to turn away to not raise any suspicion.

That certainly gave him a lot to think about.. 

Leviathan

He could understand having familiars, he had Lotan

But he noticed that he was talking to them a lot ever since MC left, and has been a lot more attached, which made him jealous

One evening, he as going Mammon’s room to call him for dinner

He heard conversation and couldn’t help but lean into hear 

“I wanna have a good relationship with Levi, ya know? But I can’t have that because we are so at odds with each other.. Heh.. Guess thousands of years of debt will do that to a relationship..”

Levi backs away with a frown

It’s true they have been at odds with each other

And it’s true that he also wants to have a better relationship then they do now

From that point on, he’s reflecting, ignoring Mammon so he doesn’t have to face the ping of guilt

All in all, he’s jealous and guilty

Satan

He’s been observing crow and ravens habits through Mammon’s familiars 

Shiny trinkets, unique dialect that Mammon seems to be able to understand, and other various things

They seem to dutifully follow Mammon, hearing his calls whenever he needs them

He found it intriguing

It was lunch time at RAD and Satan found Mammon up against a wall, having a private conversation with one of his crows

When he goes to eavesdrop further, he saw a bit of a sad expression on his face

“Wish Satan came to join me, he always use to enjoy this spot when he was younger..”

He couldn’t dispute it, the spot Mammon was in, although a bit different from before, was the spot he always chose to eat lunch and read a book

He should join him next time, right now, he needs some time to think 

Asmodeus

He had caught Mammon dressing his crows and ravens in little outfits, and yes he took photos

He found their relationship really cute

However when the crows started involving themselves in his every day life, he couldn’t help but wonder why they seem so attached

Maybe it’s because MC’s gone, maybe Mammon is lonely

Whatever the case is, he often found the second eldest talking to the crows after he teases him

He found this one day and decided to listen in

“Tch.. Does Asmo think he’s so funny? Bullyin’ me constantly.. I really wish he’d get off his high horse and actually pay attention to his words.”

That caught him off guard

Sure, his teases could get a bit extreme but bullying?

Maybe he really should pay attention to his words

Beelzebub

He was happy to see Mammon happy and have familiars to rely on

Beel couldn’t help but smile a bit when Asmo showed him the photo of Mammon putting outfits on his crows

He’d often seen him fall behind talking to his crows on days where they walk to RAD

However, he found Mammon to be skipping dinner, and he didn’t want that

So, he goes to get him from his room, but heard something inside

“I miss MC.. It was way better when they were here..”

Hearing his brothers say they miss MC is nothing new, he does too, but..

“I wish my damn brothers would stop berating me.. Guess I should be use to it by now though, huh?”

He felt his heart sink a bit, this definitely gave him a bit to think about..

From now on, he promised himself to try to be a better brother.

Belphegor

Seeing him so connected with his familiars slightly made him jealous, but he shrugs it off

..He wanted that attention.

He watched as there were many moments Mammon’s birds gave him shiny things, which was fitting for his older brother

However, Mammon started to ignore the brothers, which made him both agitated and jealous

One day, he woke up in his bed, when he remembers falling asleep on the couch

He got up and looks around, not complaining that he woke up somewhere comfortable

He assumed Beel picked him up and brought him here but he was quick to hear voices

“I’ll let Belphie sleep, I can make somethin’ up when Lucifer asks why he isn’t awake to get ready for the party.”

He heard some squawks from what he assumed was from Mammon’s crows

“Yea yea, I know it’s a risky move, but it’ll be fine.”

He may not be asleep now, but he didn’t want to go to a party 

He sinks back into the mattress with a small smile on his face

Mammon really was a good brother

[fluxweeed]

Fandom creators self rec game! Choose five favourites from your own creations (and tell me why, if you like!), then pass on to at least five other people. I'd love to hear what you're proudest of.

OH MY tacky i really really appreciate u sending this my way but do u know how much of a challenge this was 😭 i could give you my most hated soooo much easier!!! but after literally a week of deliberation (so sorry!!!) here is my answer!! i think "favourite" and "proudest of" are two different categories for me – i went with "favourite" here bc i think a proper answer for "proudest of" would need at least 3 hours and input from a licensed therapist

Still the pine-woods scent the moon – 15.5k, E, remus/harry

this was sooo different to anything i’d done before – both in terms of pairing (remus/harry), style (2nd person, slightly higher register) and attitude (really tried to be chill about the process instead of hating every second lmao). there are still many things i think could have been done much better, but i think this is the closest i’ve come to liking one of my fics 😖

The Taste of Țuică – 15k, E, ron/harry/draco

this was actually another attempt to make myself enjoy writing – i remembered that when i was younger, i found 1st person easiest to write, so i figured i’d give that a go and see what happened. i was also trying to get better at actually describing locations (a goal i think i immediately abandoned after this fic lmao whoops) so i spent a lot of time coming up with the stupid Rich Person details of draco’s bedroom – it was a fun challenge to try to improve one of my weaker areas!!

For Lack of Wanting – 8.5k, E, drarry

i’d had the image of draco acting like his old self and harry being into it in my head for ages, but i never really imagined it to turn out as angsty as this ended up being – but it was fun to try to capture a different mood than i usually go for! was still really trying to not be so grumpy about writing with this one – there’s a loooot of stuff in this that’s pretty clumsy, but i decided not to care on purpose bc i wanted to focus on the sexy sadness of it all instead 😅

Fresh Eyes – 250, M, drarry

idk man i’m usually such a fucking rambler (last month i posted a stupid PWP that takes place in a single morning and it was a whole 17k words) that i’m lowkey pleased i managed to do anything coherent with 250 words. also i love doing the thing where something is different on a second read.

Thirst – 4.5k, E, drarry

this is quite old and i don’t think it’s particularly good in any sense but there’s a soft spot in my heart for it anyway. i think maybe i’m just into vampires ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

@tackytigerfic i really really loved reading your thoughts about your five faves! it always makes me so happy to see you talk about modern love in particular – having a fic that is the one you always wanted to write, was easy to do and evokes fondness years on is such a dream!! my heart warms every time you talk about it!!! + thank u again for tagging (does this count as a tag?) me in this!

[shybunnie20]

Totally in the mood for an angsty eddie or steve blurb 🥺 and the way you write is just...*chefs kiss*. Can you do something off of "from the start" by Matt Schuster? This song and your writing would probably make me sob ngl

Eddie Munson x Reader x Player!Steve Harrington

★My Masterlist

Summary: Your intuition forewarned you that Steve is nothing but trouble, yet you couldn't help but be taken with him. When you grow tired of the situationship with Steve, your metalhead weed dealer provides a glimpse of something sweeter.

Author's Note: I'm sorry that this took forever to get done. I just finished OTMB, which was intense, so I needed a break from extreme angst. This might not make you sob but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

This is not a Steddie-related fic. Reader has a relationship with Steve and Eddie separately. Steve is not a nice guy in this, sowwy. Moderate angst & fluff. Be sure to reblog, follow, and show some love ♡

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: MDNI 18+ Substance use, mentions of sexual relations, insecurity, unrequited feelings, includes swearing.

Friday evenings in this dingy small-town bar are usually uneventful. More often than not, you’re just looking to get out of the confining qualities of your home. It’s freeing to watch the world breathe around you, despite this establishment not being particularly awe-inspiring. Besides the perpetually sticky chairs and cloudy glassware, this place has charm.

One of your favorite aspects of being a regular here is watching the local talent test out their latest material. Due to the other bargoers being less than enthusiastic about what’s happening on stage, you’re sure to give compensatory applause. When you're tipsy, you have the tendency to whistle and whoop too. Tonight’s act is a cover band playing upbeat billboard hits and they’re not half bad.

Sitting in the far back corner not only allows you to fade into the background, but also provides an unobstructed view of the room. It’s the best spot in the house for watching drunkards engage in senseless fistfights. You’re currently seated at the booth that you’ve long since claimed as your spot. You stare at the liquor that swirls inside of your glass with the back-and-forth motion of your hand. Your eyes flit upward to observe your surroundings and that’s when you spot him leaning on the bar.

You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a throbbing between your legs. You’re practically drooling but to be fair it’s a lot to take in. Steve’s voluminous brown waves are styled to look effortless, though he dedicates time to molding each hair into place. Scattered constellations of moles span across his cheeks, jawline, and neck. They effectively guide your gaze down to the tuft of coarse curls peeking from the undone buttons of his shirt. Although what really has your attention is how his Levi’s hug his glutes as if they were tailored by God himself.

The thumping music becomes muffled to the point that you can no longer decipher the lyrics. An unknown force coerces you to continue checking him out from your place across the room. You try to convince yourself that he isn’t that handsome. But much to your frustration, you get dizzier with every swig he takes of his beer. It might be your buzz, or perhaps it’s the loneliness that dwells during these late hours. Whatever it is, you’re too far gone to be saved.

There’s a whisper of foresight in the back of your mind but it's promptly silenced when Steve turns his head and looks directly at you. You pray that the lighting is dim enough to conceal your deer-in-the-headlights expression.

A suggestive smirk forms on his lips while he examines your appearance. He’d noticed you gawking a few minutes ago but nothing beats the ego boost he gets from being eye-fucked by strangers. It makes him feel like “King Steve” again and that’s a rush he’ll never stop chasing.

As he approaches your table, you smooth a hand over the part in your hair in a blind effort to fix your appearance. Who are you trying to kid? You look anything but composed.

Steve doesn’t sit in the booth nor does he stand to the side. Instead, he positions himself right in front of you and takes a seductive sip of his beer.

It’s common courtesy to greet someone as soon as you walk up to them, but he hasn’t said anything. He’s giving you the chance to take him in, in all his glory.

“Hi, there.” You take the reins, aiming to embody a fraction of the confidence that Steve is exuding.

He doesn’t immediately respond because he’s relishing the way your eyes are traveling down his chest to his fingers and eventually making their way back up to his face. A few beats pass before he replies. “Are you here alone?”

You nod modestly and he beams boldly at your wordless answer. You’re relieved to be sitting down right now because a smile like that is enough to bring you to your knees.

“When I see a stunning person like yourself sitting by their lonesome, I’m inclined to offer them company.” He says with a tilt of his head.

Before you have a chance to register his intimation, Steve offers you his hand and leads you out the back door to the alleyway. The chill of the garnet brick starkly contrasts the heat of your exposed skin as he presses you against the building. He slots his knee between your legs and chuckles smugly at the way you’re gripping his shoulders and biting your lip. You hate how good it feels, not just the friction but also the thrill of being desired.

The alley is rather dark so the two of you are relying on your other senses. The impossibly lustful kissing is fueled by the red-hot desire surging through your veins. Steve’s fingertips explore beneath the hem of your shirt and caress your hips. By your breathy reactions alone he can tell how starved you are for affection and he intends on tasting whatever you’ll let him get his hands on.

In a matter of seconds, the intensity shifts and he begins kissing you with purpose. Almost as if this is something more than an impromptu back-alley makeout sesh. Steve pecks across your jaw to suck and nibble at the delicate skin along your pulse. As bruises bloom in the path of his lips, you’re warmed by the notes of cedarwood and vanilla emanating from his expensive cologne.

Candidly, you’re not one to indulge in behavior like this because you know that anyone who’s out at this hour isn’t looking to fall in love. This instance is no exception regardless of how romantic it is to be kissing beneath the stars.

Only later did you realize that Steve swept you off your feet before you could deny him the opportunity.

Unsurprisingly, it’s been a few days since you’ve heard from him. The endless cycle continues as it has for months. Steve says he misses you, the two of you hang out and sleep together, he goes MIA., and then you’re left waiting for the next phone call.

It would be generous to call it a friends-with-benefits dynamic. In spite of the hours you spend consuming each other's presence, Steve doesn’t see it as anything beyond two friends fooling around. He gets all of the perks that a boyfriend gets without any of the responsibility. You, on the other hand, have created an illusion of companionship. Steve takes more than he gives, but you don’t see it that way. It’s unfortunate that you’ve gotten yourself into a mindset where the bare minimum on his part appears to be the utmost effort.

Once in a while, he shows a glint of something more promising than whatever this is. You catch a glimpse of vulnerability from a side of Steve that you desperately want access to. You cling to those moments with the hope that if you offer yourself unconditionally, he’ll eventually want to be exclusive. The spark in his hazel eyes lit the inextinguishable flame that is singeing your heart to ash.

Within the casualness of the time that you spend together, there are occasions where a kiss is shared that instills the belief that your profound feelings are reciprocated. But deep in your bones, you know it's only fleeting. Ergo, you enjoy the short-lived fantasy until it inevitably comes crashing down once more.

The two of you share some chemistry but it’s not a perfect match. Steve is aware of the effect he has on you and he uses it as a means to keep you at his beck and call. The thing is, you’d felt special until you realized that the way Steve talks to you is how he talks to everyone. For some reason, you allow him to string you along. Can you do better than him? Definitely. Do you deserve better? Absolutely. Do you have the confidence to demand it from him? Nope.

Every time your phone rings, he sinks his claws deeper into you. Your attachment to Steve has an immense amount of power simply because of how badly you want to be loved. You eat up every crumb of attention and wait for more, no matter how much it pains you.

You’re torn between dying to see him and admitting that you should move on to greener pastures. Just when you uncover a sliver of self-worth, he calls you. It’s like he can sense when you’re slipping out of his grip and he needs to reel you back in.

It’s the waiting that causes you to question your decision of continuing to see him. While Steve is busy with some long-legged distraction, you’re confronted with indignity. If you had known it was going to hurt like this, you wouldn’t have joined him in the alley that night. While tangled in his sheets thereafter, you failed to recognize that he’d never pick you to be his one and only.

Nevertheless, you can’t stop missing him. You shouldn’t look forward to the way your bed smells after a night with him, but you do. The product is borderline intoxicating. The smell of your clean sheets having been tainted with his hairspray, sweat, and musk. You’d be a filthy liar if you denied sleeping with articles of clothing that he’s left behind on occasion.

Thinking that hearing his voice will help satiate the craving, you pick up your phone and punch in his digits. It rings four times before he picks up.

“Hello?” Steve answers with a winded huff.

You can’t resist the smile evoked by the sound of his voice. “Heyyyy, it’s me. What’re you up to?”

“Why the hell are you calling me?”

You glance at the clock and see that it’s not very late so you couldn’t have woken him. “Oh, uh. I miss-”

Despite Steve placing his hand over the microphone, you can hear him speaking to someone else before he addresses you. “Listen, I’m really busy. Don’t get in the habit of calling me out of the blue ‘cause it makes you look desperate. Try not to be so clingy, okay? You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Before you can apologize, the line clicks. Tears dribble over your waterline but you abrasively brush them off with the back of your hand. You’re not stupid, you know exactly what you just interrupted. His breathlessness made it painfully obvious. You can’t honestly expect someone like him to spend his nights alone.

Steve is not yours and you’re growing tired of wishing he was.

In order to dull the heartache brought on by the fact that you’re merely an option, you’ve rekindled your relationship with Mary Jane. There’s nothing quite like wading in a pool of dopamine that causes your brain to bob like a buoy in the soothing tides of fabricated bliss.

Having smoked the remainder of your most recent baggie, you’re here to obtain more bud. The surrounding woods chatter as the brisk wind weaves through the branches that overlap across the dreary sky. For the two years that Eddie has been selling to you, he’s been characteristically late to the meet-ups. According to him, he’s on schedule in “Eddie Time.” You don’t mind because it gives you a chance to soak in the solitude and get some fresh air.

Out of all of his customers, you’re his favorite by a mile. The easygoing connection that you share makes this side hustle worthwhile. Even though he doesn’t know you all that well, the exchanges have always felt relaxed, familiar, and safe.

Eddie arrives seven minutes after you’ve settled at the picnic table. He takes a seat in his usual spot across from you, his metal lunchbox clattering when dropped onto the tabletop. “Couldn’t bear to stay away any longer, huh?” Eddie smiles genially and pops the latches of the tin. 

You grin weakly with a lowered gaze while wringing your hands. “You know I can’t keep myself from you, Munson.”

Right off the bat, Eddie detects your pensive energy but he chuckles lightly anyhow. “We met up a week and a half ago, don’t tell me you burned through that bag already.”

“I sure did. I was hoping to buy an ounce or two this time.” You absentmindedly knock your knuckles together.

Lifting his brows and tipping his head forward, Eddie looks at you through his lashes. “Shit, an ounce? I don’t think I’ve ever sold you that much at once.” Eddie straightens his posture but keeps his shoulders slack. “I know it’s none of my business but uh, is everything okay?”

Your weary eyes finally meet his watchful ones. “Yeah. I’m fine.” You release the pent-up pressure from your lungs with a sigh and drop your stare back to your hands. “I’m just dealing with some personal stuff.”

Eddie doesn’t know if you’re as comfortable with him as he does with you, so he decides to test the waters. “Do you wanna talk about it? I like to think that imma pretty decent listener.” He quips, watching to see if you have it in you to appreciate the lame humor.

You know that you can confide in Eddie but you haven’t processed your feelings for Steve to the extent of being able to voice them without sounding insecure. Not to mention, you’ve lost a considerable amount of sleep over the notion that you’re part of a rotation of people that he sleeps with. At least he tries to be discrete about it and doesn’t rub it in your face.

To credit Eddie’s attempt at making you smile, you audibly force air through your nose. “It’s nothing a little bud can’t help” You gulp, swallowing the realization of how pitiful that sounds. The amount that you’re asking for is by no means a small quantity. “Are we good for an ounce then?”

“No can do, sweet pea. I wasn’t under the impression that you’d be buying in bulk so I brought your usual half.” He tosses over a pre-portioned baggy containing the best nuggets from his current supply. He always gives you the good stuff.

Eddie feels bad for lying to your face because he does have more on hand but he doesn’t want to encourage a poor coping mechanism. Rather, he wants to put you in higher spirits without you actually having to get high. “Y’know, one time I got so stoned that I ordered fifty dollars worth of Chinese food.”

Your eyes widen as they find Eddie’s again. “No way. How did you manage to do that?”

While rubbing his forehead, Eddie chuckles at the recollection. “I had an insane case of the munchies, right? Shit, I kept forgetting I’d already placed an order. When the delivery guy showed up with six bags, I was so goddamn confused.”

You cover your mouth to camouflage your amusement. Even with repressing the urge to giggle, Eddie can see a sparkle as you wait for him to continue.

Eddie beams dazzlingly and embellishes his storytelling with dramatic hand motions. “Dude, I wish I was joking. So here I am, sitting in my bedroom with like- the entire menu’s worth of food. I’m talking egg rolls, chow mein, sweet and sour chicken, and cream cheese wontons. The whole nine yards.”

The warm tone of your laughter melds with the rolling breeze. “Please do not tell me you ate all of that in one night.” Judging by the furrow of Eddie’s brows and the way his cheeks retract to bare his teeth, you’re foreseeing the answer to that question.

He throws his hands up defensively. “You know damn well it doesn’t taste as good having it as leftovers.” Eddie chuckles with a pained expression, thinking back to the stomach ache he got from that night. “After that fiasco, I’ve made sure to stock up on snacks before smoking.” Eddie shakes his head but his smile doesn’t wane just yet.

To put it plainly, cheering you up is rewarding for him. He hates seeing you so heavy-hearted when you have the sweetest laugh he’s ever heard. Eddie is pleased with himself for having succeeded in livening your mood even if you won’t fill him in on the details of your troubles.

“I’ll keep your cautionary tale in mind then.” After a couple of stray giggles, you grab the plastic baggy that he’d tossed over. A folded twenty-dollar bill is pulled from your front pocket and held out to him.

Eddie’s smile falters. He accepts the cash and watches as you stand to leave. “Now I don’t wanna see you back here so soon, you got that?”

“Roger that.” You nod and give Eddie a double-digit salute as you step away from the picnic table.

“Pace yourself, sweetheart! That’s potent stuff!” He hollers with the remnants of his smile as you disappear at the forest’s opening.

It’s been several days since that call with Steve. You now find yourself at home watching MacGyver reruns while folding freshly dried laundry. Without question, you lack the enthusiasm to cook dinner tonight. It’s difficult to get yourself to when you’re bogged down from Steve withdrawal, so you wind up munching on potato chips. Part of you is glad he hasn’t called but if you’re being honest with yourself, you miss him.

You’re growing bored of sitting around but there isn’t a whole lot else to distract yourself with besides getting high. Luckily your telephone rings before you can legitimately consider baking edibles. You hope to god it's not Steve but it is around the time of night that he routinely scoops you up to take you back to his place.

You answer reluctantly. “Hello?”

“Hey, how’s it going?”

You hesitate, putting the voice to a face. “Eddie?” It’s unheard of for him to reach out to you. He’s never called you before. Normally, you contact him when you’re running low on weed.

“Bingo. How’re you doing tonight, ya got any plans?”

As much as you don’t want to admit how uneventful this Saturday night is, you don’t feel pressured to make it sound like you’re having the time of your life. “Um no, no plans. Why do you ask?”

Eddie gulps. “Well, I was wondering if you wanna hang out.”

“Do people usually kick it with their drug dealers?” You ask teasingly with a giggle at his proposal.

Eddie snorts. “Nooo, I just got to thinking, we’ve known each other for years now but we don’t really know each other. I guess I’m curious to see what you’re all about. I hope that’s not too forward-”

“Not at all. I’d love to get out and do something. Pick me up in forty-five minutes?”

“Yeah, I can totally do that. Uh- see you shortly then.”

Finally, you have somewhere to be other than rolling around in Steve’s bed.

When it comes to buying from Eddie, you normally show up in whatever you’ve got on at the moment. Although, you’ve never spent time together like this before. Taking a glance down at your current threads, you realize that you need to find something else to wear. Crumbs fall to the floor when you brush them off of the t-shirt that hangs loosely over your chest. 

Despite not being on a personal level with each other, you know that he’s anything but judgmental. Hypothetically, you could get into his van in your current outfit that has mystery stains and dime-sized rips. Eddie could give a shit, but the nagging self-consciousness is overpowering.

You manage to put together an ensemble that’s equally as comfortable as your pajamas but far more presentable. You’ve just finished slipping on your socks when there’s a rhythmic wrapping at your door. You shove your feet into your shoes and tie them hastily before opening the door.

Eddie’s expression is glowing when his eyes meet yours. “Ready to go?”

You nod with a grin and step through the threshold, pulling the door closed and locking it. 

“Alright then, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” He tosses his car keys into the air and catches them.

While making your way toward his van, you chuckle at his vibrance. “So what did you have in mind, anyway?”

Eddie takes long strides in order to beat you to the passenger side door. He aggressively jiggles the handle until it unlatches and swings open. “I was thinking we could get some grub, my treat.” He holds the door open with one hand and offers his other as leverage.

Has your stomach been growling all night? You hadn’t noticed that the potato chips failed to hold you over until now. “I could eat.” You appreciatively place your hand in his and maneuver into the passenger seat. Steve never holds doors for you. You forgot gallantry even exists. 

After jogging around the front of the van, Eddie rips open the driver's side door and slides onto the seat. He slots his keys into the lock cylinder and turns the keys over. The engine sputters to life. “Atta girl,” he presses his fingers to his lips and rubs a kiss on the dashboard.

You assume he’s taking you to Benny’s Diner but that’s not what he has planned. The drive to this undisclosed location is taking longer than you anticipated. Fifteen minutes have sailed by with the help of music seeping from the crackling speakers and mellow small talk.

After cruising along the outskirts of the neighboring town, Eddie turns off of the barren road onto the gravel that surrounds a small burger shack. It’s a hidden gem because the town it resides in is smaller than Hawkins. The twilight embraces the hut that is partially illuminated by a towering neon sign that reads “Val’s Hamburgers.”

Eddie wants you to really enjoy the food, so you share the joint that was stashed in his glove box. Regardless of not being well versed in the variation of marijuana strains, you can tell this stuff is stronger than what he supplies you.

You’re sitting by yourself in the back of his van with the side door pulled open. A buzzing crawls across your skin while your fingers tap out the beat to a song that doesn’t exist. The chirping crickets are providing a soundtrack to your weed-induced contentment. You blink lazily, your focus settling on the darkness outside while waiting for Eddie to arrive with the food. A coolness seeps through your shirt from the metal against your back. The grounding nature of the sensation keeps your lids tethered open.

For no particular reason, there’s a stupid grin painted on your face. You feel amazing right now not being worried about existing in Steve’s orbit. The crisp air fills your lungs with your sluggish inhales and it’s refreshing. With your legs crisscrossed beneath you, your body is free of anxious fidgeting. Aside from the tranquility, you’re borderline starving. Your tummy growls loudly and it makes you laugh.

Eddie returns to the van sooner than you’d expected, though you’re not sure how much time has actually passed. It could’ve been four minutes, it could’ve been ten. You have no clue.  You’re so comfortable on the cushy blanket laid out beneath you that the passing of time is a concept that you no longer cognize.

He steps into the van and pulls the door closed. The vehicle bounces from the force of Eddie plopping down into a seated position across from you. Your mouth waters as you eyeball the white paper bag in his grasp. The wetness coating your tongue relieves the THC-induced drought. Eddie straightens his legs out in order to use his thighs as a table.

You’re growing far too impatient to wait any longer. Eddie chuckles when you make grabby hands at the milkshake. As soon as he passes it over, you take the straw between your lips and suck. The sugary liquid pacifies your eagerness and you fixate on the crinkling sound that fills the van as Eddie splays the burger wrapper across his lap.

You watch quizzically as he takes the top bun off. “Are you dissecting your dinner?”

“Mmm, not quite.” He glances up at you, “My dear, I am creating the most delicious cheeseburger in Roane county.”

One of your brows raises skeptically. You continuously sip your milkshake while you observe him Frankensteining his meal. Eddie’s ringed hand plunges into the grease-stained paper bag and pulls out a wad of hot french fries. They’re promptly dropped onto the meat patty. The top bun is returned to its rightful place and given two taps with his fingers for good measure.

You can’t help the smile threatening to form. “C’mon, seriously? That’s-”

“Shush, just try it.” Eddie leans forward and angles his fry-stuffed burger to your lips.

You place your hand on top of Eddie’s to stabilize it while you take a bite. Holy shit. The saltiness paired with the cold lettuce, melted cheese, and greasy beef is positively rocking your world.

Eddie takes a larger bite in the same spot that you did as he watches your expression change. The passing of the muted seconds feels boundless. “Soooo? What’s the verdict?” Although he hasn’t finished chewing, he shoves additional fries into his mouth.

You wipe grease from the corner of your mouth and shrug, “It’s okay.”

A crease forms between Eddie's brows. “Just okay? It’s revolutionary and you know it!” He doesn’t mean to speak so loudly but his high can’t stunt the enthusiasm he has for his ingenious combination. 

“Alright, it’s phenomenal. I’ll give you that.” Your head is spinning but the munchies are in full force. Earlier, you told him that you didn’t want a burger. But after trying his, you really want more. Lucky for you, he offers you another bite without you having to ask.

Eddie licks the salty shine from his fingertips and watches you finish up the portion of the fries that he spared. He tells you about a weird dream he had last week and it has you in stitches. The image he’s painted of him being chased by a mob of evil Slinkies is amusing, to say the least. Your high is peaking so you’re convinced that this is the funniest shit you’ve ever heard.

Instead of giving commentary, you let him ramble with his grandiose storytelling. He’s caught up in the details until he begins to miss your voice. Eddie stops himself from moving on to describing another dream he had. “What about you, have any odd ones lately?”

The dream you choose to share isn’t nearly as bizarre, but Eddie is looking at you like you’re the most fascinating person he’s ever met. He listens with intensity and it indicates how much he cares about what you have to say. You’re having trouble recalling the sequence of events, but he’s following along just fine. Eddie downright adores the way your nostrils flare right before you get to the funny part.

He doesn’t know why he never asked you to hang out before, you’re such a dream to him. The desire to explore you from eyelids to ankles is far too substantial to ignore. You’re exactly what he’s always wanted. A little too feisty to function, but all the while you’re incredibly kind when you want to be.

It’s only been two minutes, but it feels like you’ve been talking for an hour. You gradually stop gabbing in an attempt to cool your jets because of how annoying that must have been for him to have to sit through.

Eddie picks up on it in a heartbeat. His smile falls as he witnesses your confidence shrink. “You okay?”

The tingling becomes unbearable so you unfold your legs and straighten them out alongside his. “Yeah, of course.” Steve is the one who does all the talking. He vents about his issues while you listen subserviently. He has never done that for you.

With his gaze angled down to reduce the sensation of a spotlight being cast on you, Eddie twists the skull ring around the base of his finger. “Hey, can I ask you something?” 

You tilt your head back against the metal wall and look down your nose at him. “Go for it.”

Eddie clears his throat, trying not to fixate on the heat radiating from your legs that are a mere inch from his. “Stop me if I’m overstepping, but uh- what’s got you so down lately?” 

You take a second to contemplate lying or spilling your guts about your romance-related dilemma. “You really wanna know?”

“I really do.” Eddie pushes his curls behind his ears to ensure he hears everything you have to say.

With a shallow breath, you bring your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around your shins to keep them in place. “Boy problems.”

“Oh,” He nods. “What’s this guy’s deal?”

Your look at Eddie because you’re surprised that he wants you to elaborate. His benign expression conveys that it’s okay to talk about it. You lick your lips and avert your gaze before delving into the heartache. “Long story short, I’m fun to fool around with but not enough to be his girlfriend.”

“That’s bullshit.” Eddie is quick to shut down your remark. From your choice of words, he can tell that you need someone to care for you and that you’ve been neglected of being cherished. He desperately wants to prove himself worthy of doing that. “You’re good enough. I mean it.” He nudges your shoe with his sneaker, watching closely as you bring your head up from its bowed angle.

Eddie’s words echo in your head while you bite down on your lip. You’ve never had a guy say that to you. You’re lost in distress and unable to process the compliment. “He sleeps with other people. A handful, actually. And when he chooses me for the night, I guess I feel wanted.”

It’s obvious that you’re being taken advantage of. How could someone think you’re not worth it? You’re worth it and Eddie would risk it all for you. He’s so annoyed that he doesn’t hear the change in his tone. “Why are you letting him treat you like a doormat? You’re smarter than that.”

Your eyes snap to Eddie’s face. What the fuck? The words of shock die in your throat. You open up to him and that’s how he responds? Your tears reflect the glow of the light fixture overhead. You tuck your face behind your knees to conceal the broken expression that reveals how mortified you are.

Eddie’s voice softens in realization, “Shit. Please don’t cry, sweetheart.”

You do your best to keep the tears at bay with every brain cell you have. The last thing you want is to be this vulnerable ever again. You squeeze your eyes closed so tightly that it hurts because you’ll be damned if a single tear is shed.

Eddie reaches over and loosely takes your hand in his, giving you the opportunity to rip your hand away if you wish to. The pad of his thumb strokes over your knuckles.

The soothing sensation causes a cry to spill from your throat but you choke it down and swallow it. You don’t know how to process a guy genuinely caring about you.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean-”

“No,” You lift your head to face him. “You’re right. I brought this on myself. He treats me like that because I let him.”

Your hardened expression makes Eddie anxious but your hand still hasn’t left his. He takes it as a sign that he didn’t totally blow his chances. Eddie scoots closer and wipes the tear on your cheek with a feather-light touch. “It’s not your fault. I’m just a fucking idiot.” When he fiddles with your fingers in his palm, he catches how your shoulders slacken. “I was trying to say that you don’t have to settle for being his toy. You deserve more than he’ll ever be able to give you.”

The pessimist in you wants to argue that you’ll never find anyone better and that you’re being treated for what you’re worth. But it occurs to you that all this time, it’s been Steve’s voice convincing you of that. You’ve been made to feel insignificant to the extent that you believed he was the only guy who could possibly tolerate you. 

You can’t help but smile at Eddie’s certainty and he eats it up. “Why’re you looking at me like that?”

Eddie doesn’t dare to break eye contact as he bathes in your radiance. “A smile looks good on you.”

Normally you’d hide your face but you don’t. Your stare is locked on his burnt honey irises. It‘s like a warm blanket is being draped over your shoulders.

If Eddie could change the way you see yourself, you’d understand why Steve doesn’t deserve you.

Since that night at Val’s, you’ve built a routine of getting high and doing something spontaneous together. Last weekend Eddie took you to The War Zone. You were hesitant at first but in the end, you had a blast. The far corner of the store was your favorite part. Eddie had never seen someone so excited over tiny jars. You were delighted and he couldn’t bring himself to talk you out of buying them. For ten minutes, you went on about all of the objects you could put in jars that little. He would’ve sat and listened to you list things all day.

You don’t miss Steve anymore. Every time you looked into his eyes you saw that he wasn’t looking into yours with the same passion. You perceived him as this incredible guy who could do it all. But in reality, he offered you so little.

Steve was meant to show you what isn’t right for you. Every time his hands roamed your body, they had no intention of touching your soul. The blissed-out feelings that were once evoked by Steve’s hands are now brought on by the sweet nothings that Eddie whispers. 

All this time, there was something better out there for you and you’ve finally found it.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated! ♡

★My Masterlist

★Ko-fi ♡

tags: @protecteddiemunson4vr @nj01 @tlclick73

[starsignchaser]

hello everyone and welcome to the March 2024 edition of emily's fic recs! If you saw my post this weekend you know that I bookmarked 57 fics this month... yeah idk how that happened but just know that this is gonna be a bit of a long one.

this month's list contains Jegulus, Wolfstar, and Drarry for a total of 28 fics. there are some all-time faves in this list (march was a good month) so I hope you enjoy!

without further ado, lets dive in :)

Jegulus

blue and yellow skies by alarainai, salmon_says (142k, 27/27, rated M)

Quidditch Rivals turned Quidditch Lovers. That's what the world sees them as, at least.

Too bad Regulus hates James Potter's guts, and James? Well, it doesn't matter what he feels about their definitely fake, definitely emotionless relationship.

just cute quidditch boys who love each other

i fell hard (in your arms tonight) by grimjobs (17.9k, 9/9, rated G)

Regulus didn't know he was touch starved until James started touching him.

cute boys and silly misunderstandings

i've got my eye on you by artiest (10k, rated M)

James and Regulus are friends with benefits except they're both ridiculously in love with each other.

this one was so good I had to give it an instant reread as I was putting my list together. angsty happy in-love boys

Many Happy Halloweens by SnarkyMagpie (7.6k, rated M)

Monsters come out on Halloween, but Regulus Black will gladly fight any horror, whether it's a dragon or anxiety, to protect his family.

Jeggy dads!!!!!! Technically single dad James with Harry and then Reggie joining their family <3333

stuck by you (and the glue) by cleargreen (4.7k, rated G)

The two most important people in James's life finally meet. This is how it goes.

baby harry has a crush on his dad's boyf reg

Whoops. by my_castlescrumbling (2k, rated T)

Regulus is a TA for Professor Monty Potter and Monty keeps trying to set Regulus up with his son. Regulus always refuses, of course. But what happens when, at the end of the term, he goes to the Potter Christmas Party?

yayyy happenstance!!!

a little death by noasmirrorball (1.6k, rated E)

James wakes Regulus up with a little surprise.

this is just straight up porn

heatwaves by regscupid (1.5k, rated E)

With the exit of May, James quickly came to realize he could not deal with what June brought with it. June meant hotter weather. Their flat didn’t have air conditioning.

reg in crop tops makes james' brain go mush

Wolfstar

wading in waist-high water by colgatebluemintygel (82k, 9/9, rated E)

Remus is a PhD student and hobbyist baker who finds himself adrift following his father’s death. On a whim, he enters the Great British Bake Off...

ONE OF MY FAVES OF THE MONTH!!! a wonderful balance of funny moments, bits of angst, and mostly just a lot of love between these two boys

Like Real People Do by third_crow (36k, 3/3, rated T)

Or, Remus works as a barista and Sirius comes in every morning with the world's cutest baby, and man, these two just wrote the book on mutual pining, huh?

I LOVED THIS FIC!!! there is so much angst but it is so worth it because these two are meant to find each other every time

To Be Alone With You by Shay_Fae (16.6k, 4/4, rated M)

In the summer of their sixth year, Remus Lupin tried to kill himself.

MAJOR TW for this one (as you can see from the description) but also such a beautiful take on Sirius's love for Remus and their dynamic

my castle crumbled overnight by YellowLark23 (9k, 2/2, rated T)

Sirius deals with his parents’ abuse while at school, but he never realizes just how dangerous the game they're playing is.

This fic is more black brothers focused but there is sweet background wolfstar hurt/comfort :)

i've got diamonds in my eyes (for you) by crushofdoves (6k, 2/2, rated E)

Sirius and Remus are in big, soft, filthy love.

this is so hot and also just feels so real for a sex scene like they literally stop to have a grilled cheese in the middle it's perfect

Remus' Impromptu Study Break by ravenclaw_with_no_friends (5.6k, rated E)

“Sod off Pads, I’m mad at you,” Remus decided his best way out would just be to go have a shower. He got out of the bed, picking up his pyjama bottoms to hold in front of his crotch.

wolfstar smut with sirius making the first move hehe

i was sinking and now i'm sunk by crushofdoves (3.9k, rated E)

The air between them felt electric, crackling with intention and Sirius hoped they were on the same page.

bookstore employee remus having his way with sirius in the back room

Ways to be Gentle by Quietlemonhush (3.6k, rated E)

Sirius has a bad day. Remus reminds him what softness feels like.

sad sirius being given all the love by his moony

Drarry

A Dented Old Street Sign by orphanghost (27k, rated M)

Draco knows they aren't the only students who will be completing their NEWTs this year, but they are the only ones whose home fireplaces were disconnected from the floo network by the ministry.

At least, Draco assumes as much until he sees the light falling out from the front door of one of the other rickety old houses in front of them and the three figures cast in its warm glow.

the golden trio and returning slytherins are neighbors in Hogsmede for 8th year. tension, hijinks, and love ensues

With Great Yawns and Stretchings by sugar_screw (22k, rated T)

The coffee is very good. Really. And the cats are so cute. That's why Harry goes so often.

ONE OF MY FAVES OF THE MONTH!! just sweet boys who love cats and grow together and kiss!!!

Cascade by Avonne (18.7k, rated M)

Harry wants to touch, and Draco wants to be touched. If only they could figure it out.

I want to take every 8th year fic in hold them close in my arms because these boys are so sad and fucked up but they keep finding each other and making it work. one of my faves!

Sourdough by academicdisaster (17k, rated M)

Draco writes romance novels and doesn't leave his apartment much. Harry bakes bread and sells it to Draco. Draco is quite weird. Harry might like that.

read tags before reading!!! contains some off screen heavy angst but sooo good. Again, you will always catch me at the scene of a weird little draco fic

Magical Menagerie by DorthyAnn (16k, 7/7, rated T)

Convinced by Hermione to get a new pet, Harry goes to Magical Menagerie and finds it's now owned by Draco Malfoy who has changed since the war… in a good way, a really good way.

sweet weirdo draco you will always have my heart

Said and Unsaid (or, The Value of Knowing When to Stop Talking) by bryoneybrynn (14.8k, 3/3, rated T)

When the Interrogator asked if he had anything to say on his own behalf, Draco shook his head, his lips pressed tight in a thin line. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse.

again, love me an 8th year fix-it fic

Slow Show by Avonne (14.7k, rated M)

Harry doesn't know the kind of love that isn't forged in pain. He doesn't understand slow and calm and easy. He can't trust unconditional. After all, how could Draco love him if he's not allowed to sacrifice himself for it? Draco shows him.

I just can't get enough of harry being a self-sacrificing idiot and Draco being the one who can consistently cut through his bs and be like "hey!!! stop that dummy, we all love you (but me especially)"

I'll keep you (safe and sound) by arminaa (13k, 4/4, rated E)

Harry takes temporary custody of Teddy while Andromeda's comatose at St Mungo's after an accident, and Draco, his something-with-benefits, shows up unexpectedly to help.

two awkward boys who don't know how to tell each other they like each other (with baby Teddy!)

Title of Their Sex Tape by Cibee (12k, rated T)

Undercover! Heists! Draco pining for Harry! Harry being oblivious, but also can't help noticing how good Draco smells! Banters and jokes! That's about it.

Brooklyn 99-esque fic with v sweet will they/won't they moments. also the line "“I confess,” Draco said quietly. “That I had hope ... you would choose me this time.”" !!!!!!!

By Any Other Name by dracognition (8k, rated E)

A botched love potion makes it so that everyone in Harry's vicinity is madly in love with him—everyone except Draco, that is.

everyone is in love with Harry, INCLUDING Draco!!! hehehe

Swipe Right by mee4ever (2k, rated G)

Or then one where Harry swipes right, and it turns out Draco does too.

I love their banter/flirting in this one so much!!!

Harry Potter Gets a Job [ART] by dustmouth (106 pages, rated M)

Harry returns home from Romania to find Arthur Weasley has a new apprentice, and there's an extra place set for dinner.

I love this art style and the story is just so perfect, def suggest checking out more by dustmouth if you enjoy this

[wolvereaux]

9 and Tal from the music ask game

Gunning For You [Noyze Jinx Remix] by QUIX, Nevve, & Noyze Jinx & Talwyn - I'm pretty sure this is on Skipper's playlist and if not, I meant to put it on there at some point adlksflkj Heads up, this turned out a lot more angsty than I meant it to (and a lot longer. Whoops). --

"I don't do commitment, Leo."

"I know." The ghost's voice was gentle as she spun into her Lightbearer's line of sight and got him to look up at her. "But it's been centuries. I think it's worth giving it another try."

Talwyn opened their apartment door in silence, leaning to the side to let Leo in before following after her and carefully shutting the door behind them. A myriad of feelings swirled in his chest and tangled in his throat. They tightened when his eyes caught the sight of the Sunbreaker mark that was carefully folded up and displayed on the hallway bookshelf as he moved towards the bathroom. He forced himself to keep moving, to push past the memory and process it before it became too hard to breathe.

He turned the sink on and picked up his toothbrush, leaving the light off and ignoring the mirror as he mindlessly went through the motions of getting ready for bed.

"He deserves better than what I can offer him." Talwyn's shoulders were hunched when he finally spoke. "I'm…" he swallowed heavily. The word 'broken' had dug its claws in his chest, refusing to come out even as it sliced through him. "I—"

"Isn't that his decision to make?" Leo asked him softly, cutting into his thoughts before he could spiral further.

Talwyn wiped an arm across his face and turned on the tap before his sniffling could become audible. He quickly ducked his face under the water in an attempt to drown the tears before they could fall more thickly than they already were, and took his time rinsing the toothpaste out of his mouth before he had to stand up and dry off his face with a towel.

He ached with want. Traveler above, he wanted this more than he could remember wanting almost anything else.

And he'd been slipping. He'd been having to quell the urge to reach for Sigil's hand whenever they were in the same room, forcefully covering it over with flippant remarks to hide the way his heart pounded in his chest. He'd been catching himself looking at the exo while his attention was somewhere else, and had to repeatedly force himself to look away. Worst of all he kept finding himself lingering after their goodbyes, letting the silence stretch out in order to put off walking back to his own apartment alone just for a little longer.

Like tonight.

Only this time, he'd blown a kiss after Sigil before he could stop himself.

Traveler, he was so stupid.

Face still hidden in the towel, Talwyn stood frozen under the weight of his own shame as he relived the moment in his mind. Thankfully the door had already been shut, leaving Leo as the only witness to his heartsick longing. Loyal, patient Leo who was the forced audience to his endless internal self-destruction.

He didn't deserve her either.

His shoulders began to shake with silent sobs as something load bearing crumpled in his chest.

"Oh, Lion Cub."

Leo dipped down and landed on his shoulder, settling her shell against his neck. Talwyn didn't have the heart to push her away. --

link to the ask game