#AND KATY SERVED HARD

[marukyubi]

Me while I read @the-kr8tor's watch tower fic for the first and second time 😞 Angst was so delicious but OH BOY DID I CRY yes, quite a lot

me when I reach the angst part of the angsty fic that I specifically chose for the angst

[llittletingoddess]

OH MY GOD-

[m00nl1ghts1vt]

♡‧₊˚ Babydaddy!Chris x Sweetheart!Reader

You and Chris were lying in bed, limbs tangled together as he repeatedly smooths a hand through your hair. Most of your days had been lazy the last couple weeks due to your morning sickness, but today your baby actually let you be productive, not giving you as much of a hard time as normal.

You and Chris spent the day online shopping, purchasing a few essentials since you still felt iffy about going in public. Nobody except immediate family and close friends knew you and Chris were expecting. After breaking the news to his brothers, he immediately facetimed his parents and close friends, holding up a sonogram to show them. Of course, most of the reactions were pure shock. He made every single person promise to not tell a soul before he ended the call, even his parents. 

Your head rested on Chris’s chest, raising and falling with each one of his breaths. An Adam Sandler movie played across the tv screen as Chris traces a finger around your belly button over and over again. The last few weeks you could feel slight movements, hinting that your baby was growing fast. A sigh escapes your lips, taking in the relaxing moment until a swift, sharp movement presses on your abdomen. You jolt at the unfamiliar feeling, letting a gasp roll off your lips as you sit up. Your actions make Chris sit up in hurry, “what? What is it?” he extends a hand out, placing it over your belly.

“I think he kicked!” you exclaimed, smoothing a hand over your stomach, poking it a few times to see if the baby would kick again. 

“Are you serious?” Chris knots a hand in his hair while looking down at your small bump. He chews at his bottom lip out of nervousness as he studies your belly for any time of sudden movement. You let out a snort, “here,” grabbing his hand and guiding it to your bump, “I think Bean felt your hand.” His body tenses up and he holds his breath, acting as if your stomach was a bomb waiting to explode. Running a hand up his arm in an attempt to relax him, his eyes flicker to yours, letting a tight lipped smile pull at his lips.

A few seconds later the same unfamiliar feeling pokes at the middle of your belly, right underneath Chris’s hand. A gasp erupts from his chest, “holy shit! Did you feel that? He just kicked the shit out of me!” His words were laced with excitement like he was a kid in a candy shop. He lets out a laugh as the baby kicks his hand a few more times, making you quickly join in. At that moment he felt more serotonin than he ever had. The small butterfly-like kicks, only separated by the layers of your skin, lightly thumping against his hand. It made him like he was meeting his child for the first time. His heart pounding heavily in his chest just like it did when he first met you - like it did when he found out you were pregnant. Chris was over the moon, everything started to feel real for him the moment he felt his baby introduced themself for the first time. All he knew was these next few months needed to fly back, he couldn’t wait to meet his baby in the flesh and neither could you.

wc - 574??

an - This is my first blurb so be careful with me 😭 Serving more babydaddy!Chris content is my mission 🫡 Also I hit 300 followers last night tysm! 🥹🫶🏻

Posting before work because why not lmaoo

Dividers & photo edits by me. Feel free to use.

Babydaddy!Chris Masterlist

Tags - @lvrsturniolo @ribread03 @unknvhx @m11rx @emely9274 @loveparqdise @sweetshuga @frickin-bats @katie-tibo @leila-marie4 @delusional-4-fake-people

© All Rights Reserved to m00nl1ghts1vt. Please do not copy my work.

[inmyglenpowellera]

An Innocent Game | Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Request: requested by @kati-1997. Asked for best friends to lovers, everybody sees that they like each other but he admits it after someone flirts with the reader, the crew and Penny bet that they get together.

Word Count: 5949 words

Summary: Jake and the reader are best friends, however, the Dagger Squad and Penny can see they both want to be more than that. What started off as a bet of when the two will get together turns into a different game that leads to trouble.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, angst, cursing (I think, I can't remember for sure, kissing.

It started as a game. An innocent little game for the entire Dagger Squad to play, minus Maverick who was trying to be the responsible one out of the group. But honestly, the oldest member couldn’t blame the group for what they started. They had to do something to deal with Fightertown's most clueless couple.

What started as placing bets for when the two of you finally got together turned into a drinking game.

Take a drink when one of you calls the other a nickname or says something flirty.

Take two drinks if one of you kisses the other on the cheek, forehead, or head.

Take a shot when Hangman tries to show you how to properly play pool.

Take two shots if you hold hands.

Finish your drink if you guys end up dancing together.

Needless to say, the members of the Dagger Squad are more on track for liver failure rather than winning any money.

“I’m never playing that game ever again,” Rooster groaned out to the group the next morning, slumped down in his chair with his aviators placed over his closed eyes.

“Yeah, right. We all know we’ll be doing the same thing when we go out again,” Phoenix argued with him, her state being the same, except she’s leaned forward in her seat, head down and buried in her arms.

“I’ve never drunk so much in my entire life,” Bob groaned out from next to her, sunglasses placed on his nose instead of his usual spectacles for seeing properly.

“I think I’m still drunk,” Fanboy stated, Payback humming in agreement from his seat next to him.

“I’m honestly surprised Penny served us as much as she did last night,” Coyote spoke up.

“It’s because Penny understands the pain we are going through right now with watching the two of them together. I’m starting to seriously think we need to step in and do something about it. I don’t know if my liver can take another night like this,” Rooster told the group.

“What do you expect us to do, Rooster? It’s not like we can just come out and say-,” Coyote was cut off by Pheonix shushing him at the sound of whistling.

Jake Hangman Seresin immediately stopped in his tracks when he took in the sight of his fellow aviators. He couldn’t help but laugh at the hungover group as he slowly walked further into the room, grinning around his toothpick.

“Well, it looks like some people had a fun night,” He said with a chuckle, taking his usual seat at the front of the room.

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” Fanboy muttered, causing Payback to send an elbow into his side.

Hangman showed no sign of hearing his muttered phrase and pulled his phone out to reply to a text sent by you.

Darling: Phoenix hasn’t replied to me this morning. Should I be worried?

His smile widened across his face as he replied to you.

Cowboy: Don’t you worry, darling. It looks to me like she and the rest of the group had a long night last night.

Jake discreetly took a picture of the group sitting behind him with their glasses on and sent it to you. Jake then locked his phone back up and placed it into his pocket before turning to look back at everybody.

“Are any of you going to be up to standards today,” He asked curiously.

“We’ll be fine Hangman, don’t you worry about us,” Coyote told his best friend.

“I just hope Maverick won’t be too hard on us today. I think I might puke if we do any crazy maneuvers,” Bob groaned.

“That’s the price to pay for underage drinking Baby on Board,” Jake said smugly from the front of the room.

“You’re such an ass,” Bob whispered, and everybody was too hungover to comment on the unexpected cursing from the WSO.

Everybody remained silent as they heard the door to their room swing open. Maverick quietly stepped into the room and slowly walked to the front, taking in the state of his team. He shook his head in amusement and cursed his girlfriend for serving them as much as she did. He dropped his clipboard on the podium in the front with a bang, causing all of the aviators, minus the cause of the problem, to let out groans of pain.

“Please never do that again,” Rooster groaned out to his godfather.

“Good morning to you too,” Maverick said with amusement in his voice. “Judging by the look of everybody in this room, practicing flight maneuvers is out of the question and is going to have to be moved to a different day.”

A resounding groaned cheer of numerous “thank gods” and “yes, pleases” rang out from the group, causing Hangman to scoff at the group and shake his head.

“That being said, you guys still aren’t off the hook. I want you all down at the beach behind the Hard Deck and ready for dogfight football within the hour,” Maverick ordered the group, causing them to still groan out in disagreement.

“I’d honestly much rather fly a plane than constantly be tackled to the ground,” Rooster argued.

“That’s the point. I don’t want to hear complaints from the maintenance team about having to hose vomit out from your cockpits, but I can’t let you all off the hook. You’re punishment for drinking so much the night before work is dogfight football. See you all in an hour,” Maverick smirked, leaving the room and the aviators to pull themselves from their seats.

-----

“They look like they’re struggling more than usual,” I commented about the sluggish group of aviators on the beach in front of me.

Penny hummed in acknowledgment and amusement before speaking. “All of them but your best friend.”

I followed her gaze to said aviator and blushed when I saw him, tanned skin glistening in the sun, muscles on show for anyone and everyone to see. I sighed wistfully at him as I continued admiring him, knowing full well Penny was also doing so with Maverick.

“They’re all hungover,” Penny reminded me with a smirk, going back to her work sitting in front of her.

“How are they so hungover? Did they keep drinking after Jake gave me a ride home,” I questioned her in disbelief.

“No, they stopped drinking when you left. You just didn’t realize how much they were drinking while you were here,” She explained. “Probably because you were so focused on a certain Lieutenant Seresin.” 

I removed my gaze from the group and glared over at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm, sure. Keep telling yourself that,” Penny nodded at me in amusement.

I rolled my eyes at her and looked back at the group to watch Jake do a double take towards our table. I grinned at him and raised my hand in a wave, seeing a wide grin also take over his face and wave back. After his actions, I watched as all of the aviators slowly looked over and had mixed reactions to my presence. Some groaned in what looked like exhaustion while some waved at me with a small smile.

“How long have they been at this,” I questioned Penny curiously.

“A little over an hour. Pete said it was punishment for getting so drunk when they knew they had work the next morning,” Penny told me with a proud grin at the thought of her boyfriend.

“He would punish them for having fun,” I poked at her, causing her to frown at me and kick me under the table. “I was joking. So, what do you think, maybe a little hair of the dog will help them get through it?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Penny argued with me, seeming to know something I don’t know.

“It’ll be fine, Pen,” I argued with her, pulling the back door of the Hard Deck open and making my way to behind the bar.

I began gathering beers together and placing them on top of the bar. I looked around across the bartop to see no bottle opener in sight. I sighed in frustration and began moving jars of garnishes to the side to locate the opener. When unsuccessful, I groaned and squatted down to locate the opener on one of the shelves underneath the bar and let out a small cheer when I saw one behind a glass jar. I pulled the jar out and reached for the opener, placing it up on the bartop. I went to place the jar back when I noticed a heart drawn on it. I furrowed my brows and held it farther away from my face to properly examine it.

I opened the container and looked inside to see rolls of cash shoved inside of it. 

“What the hell,” I murmured to myself in confusion.

I gripped the jar in my hand and walked towards the back door of the bar, pushing it open with my hip and walking towards the bartender.

“Penny, what the hell is a jar with a heart drawn on it stuffed full of cash doing underneath your bar,” I questioned her in confusion.

I could see the woman freeze briefly and some color drain from her face before she looked up at me wide-eyed. I stared at her expectantly and placed the jar on the table in front of her, watching her glance between the jar and myself a few times before speaking.

“It’s…,” She trailed off, causing me to raise my brows at her. “It’s some money I’ve been saving up for a trip for Pete and me. I’ve been hiding it underneath the bar so he doesn’t see it.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet. Well, I would love to contribute some, if that’s okay,” I started reaching for my purse, causing her to stop me and grab the jar from the table.

“No, that’s okay. That’s not necessary at all,” She shrugged.

“Are you sure,” I questioned her again.

“Positive,” She nodded at me tightly before looking back at the door. “Weren’t you getting drinks for everybody?”

My eyes widened at the reminder and walked back inside to grab the beers I had planned on acquiring previously. After opening all of them I gripped them in my arms and hands and began walking them out to the beach where the aviators continued their game.

“I heard that some of you could use a bit of help in your day,” I called out, gaining their attention.

I heard some sighs of relief and resounding “thank yous” as they all made their way towards me and began taking the beers off of my hands. Jake was the last one to greet me and the grin on his face caused mine to widen as well. He took the beer from my outstretched hand before gripping it and pulling me towards him.

“Thank you, darling,” he told me, leaning down to place a kiss on the top of my head.

“You’re welcome, hotshot,” I grinned at him.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as the rest of the group all shared looks before taking four long drinks of their beer in unison.

“Don’t overdo it again guys,” Maverick scolded them, taking a drink of his beer as well before sighing. “We can be done for the day. Get some rest and be ready for work on Monday.”

“Yes, sir,” Rang out around me as everybody sighed in relief at being done for the day.

I giggled at all of them in amusement as I moved closer to Jake and wrapped my arms around his waist. “How are all of you so hungover? Penny told me you stopped drinking after we left last night.”

Everybody stayed quiet at my question and continued drinking their beer, causing me to shrug and hug myself closer to Jake.

“Honey, I’m all sweaty and sandy, I’m sure you don’t want to be touching me right now,” Jake informed me with a grin, taking his sunglasses off and placing them on my face so I was no longer squinting up at him.

“I’m fine,” I reassured him, pressing my face into his chest and admiring his green eyes shining in the sunlight.

Everyone groaned simultaneously and took another long gulp of beer, causing me to squint at them in confusion.

“Is there something we’re missing here,” I questioned all of them curiously.

“Nope,” They all denied in unison.

“Uh-huh,” I nodded at them before looking back up at Jake. “Well, it’s Friday night, what are we doing tonight? Drinks at the Hard Deck again?”

“Sounds good to me. What about you guys,” Jake nodded at me before looking back at the rest of the Dagger Squad.

“Sounds great,” Rooster said after a moment of silence, everybody else hesitantly nodding in unison.

“Awesome. Well, I’m going to head home and get changed, let’s meet back here in an hour to an hour and a half,” I questioned the group, removing myself from Jake’s side and handing his sunglasses back to him.

Everybody nodded as Jake placed another kiss on my head. “Sounds good, darling. I’ll pick you up on my way again.”

I nodded at him in acknowledgment before beginning my trek off of the beach.

---------

“Here, darlin’, you’re holding it wrong, let me help you out,” Jake murmured in my ear, placing his hands over my own and leaning over me.

“I think I know how to do it properly after the many times you’ve shown me before, cowboy,” I giggled out to him, lifting my head to look into his bright green eyes.

“Well, it never hurts to have a refresher,” He replies to me, causing me to nod sheepishly and look back at the task at hand.

“Shots, everybody,” Rooster called out, causing everybody to nod at him reluctantly.

I looked up from the pool table to nod at him as well. “I’ll take one, Roo. Can you also get me another (Y/D)?”

“Sure,” He nodded at me with a tight smile before turning and going to the bar.

Jake led me in my shot once again before we both stood from the table and watched the balls move around. Once my turn was over the next person went and I handed my pool stick to the next person. Jake leaned down towards my ear and told me he was going to help Rooster with the drinks before placing a kiss on my temple. I nodded at him with a bright grin and moved to sit at one of the high-top tables surrounding the pool table. As I sat observing the game in front of me, a very drunk Phoenix came and placed her head on my shoulder, causing me to giggle at her in amusement.

“Can I help you,” I questioned her.

“I’m so drunk,” She informed me, staring at the pool table with a blank expression.

“We’ve only been here two hours,” I said in disbelief. She remained silent and only shrugged in response. “Stop drinking then.”

“I can’t. I would lose the game if I did that, and I can’t lose. I already lost my money, I can’t lose this too. This is your fault by the way,” She groaned out to me, causing me to furrow my brows in confusion.

“What the hell are you talking about,” I questioned her.

Coyote stepped forward at that moment and placed his hands on the female aviator's shoulders, moving her away from me and towards her WSO Bob.

“Ignore Phoenix. She’s just had a little too much to drink. You know how she can be sometimes,” Coyote told me, placing his hand on my shoulder

“Uh…,” I trailed off, looking past him at my female friend with confusion still written across my face.

“Here you go, (Y/N),” Rooster said, gaining my attention.

I looked over at him to see him holding my drink up to me with a grin. I smiled at him thankfully and accepted my drink before looking behind him.

“Where’s Jake?”

“Bringing the rest of the shots,” He told me before downing a couple of gulps of his beer in his hand.

I nodded in understanding before looking back at the pool table in front of me. After a few seconds of waiting for Jake, (Y/F/S) began playing from the jukebox, causing my grin to widen and begin searching for the green-eyed aviator and finding him making his way towards me with a smug grin. I smiled at him brightly and downed my shot before standing from my seat.

“You wanna dance,” Jake questioned me smugly, holding his hand out.

My smile widened and I shook my head at him in disbelief. “You do this every time we come here.”

“Nothing wrong with having a routine,” He shrugged at me before gripping my hand tightly and pulling me over to the jukebox.

I couldn’t help but laugh as he began twirling me around in the jukebox lights before pulling me closer to him. I placed my head on his chest as his hands moved to my waist. The two of us swayed comfortably back and forth for the duration of the song, occasionally catching the gazes of the rest of the Dagger Squad who were looking over at us periodically.

“I feel like something is going on with our friends that they’re not telling us,” I murmured to Jake, questioning if he heard me or not.

“What do you mean,” Jake questioned me curiously.

“They’re acting weird,” I pointed out.

“Because the way they normally act is considered normal,” Jake said in amusement, shaking his head at me.

“To me it is,” I said shyly, looking up at him.

Jake shook his head at me again with a grin before speaking. “Alright, what are they doing that has you so concerned?”

I looked up at him in disbelief this time and scoffed. “You’re telling me you seriously can’t see it? The occasional groans when the two of us do anything, the hesitation in agreeing to come out with us tonight, the heavy drinking in our presence, Phoenix telling me that her being drunk is my fault.”

Jake stood and thought before saying his piece. “I think our friends are just weird and annoying.”

I scoffed at him and grinned before shaking my head. “Sure, Seresin. Let’s go with that.”

“Look, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I think it might just be me, okay? They have to spend all day with me at work and then the evening with me when we hang out. Being around the same people so much can cause some annoyance,” Jake tried to reassure me.

I sighed and shook my head before reluctantly agreeing. “Okay, I guess you’re right.”

“I know I’m right. I’m always right,” He grinned down at me.

“That is not true,” I giggled at him before he twirled and dipped me.

(Y/F/S) came to an end and the two of us began making our way back towards the group. I walked to the table that I left my drink on and frowned when I saw my glass empty. I looked around the group to see a guilty-looking Phoenix avoiding eye contact. I laughed in amusement and shook my head at her before looking up at Jake.

“I’m going to get another drink. It looks like a drunk Phoenix beat me to this one,” I informed him, gesturing between the female aviator and my cup.

Jake laughed as well and looked back down at me. “I can get you another one, darling.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m a big girl, I can handle it,” I reassured him, grabbing my glass to take to the bar for Penny. 

Jake threw his hands up in surrender and smirked at me as I rolled my eyes, reaching forward and gripping one of his hands to pull it back down to his side. Jake smiled at me in amusement and squeezed my hand briefly before letting it go, gently pushing me towards the bar. I looked back at him with a small smile before trekking over to Penny.

“Another one,” Penny questioned me in shock, looking at my empty glass.

“Yeah, I’m afraid Phoenix beat me to this one,” I said with a gentle laugh.

Penny shook her head before turning to make my drink. I chuckled in amusement and looked back at the group of aviators at the pool table. Jake looked up from his turn at the table to make eye contact with me. He winked at me before making his move, causing me to roll my eyes and move to turn back to the bar. However, I paused in my turn when I noticed a certain spectacled WSO making his way towards me at the bar.

“Hey, Bob. You doing okay,” I questioned him in concern.

Bob nodded at me with a bright grin, slightly swaying in his spot where he stopped next to me. “Yeah, I’m great.”

I nodded in agreement with him before looking over at Penny. “Hey, Pen? Water for the WSO, please.”

Penny nodded at me as Bob began to shake his head. “No, no. I don’t need any water. I’m fine.”

I nodded at his slurred words and laughed a little bit. “Bob, you’re a lightweight on your best day, I think some water would do you some good,” I told him, placing my hand on his shoulder.

Bob drunkenly stared up at me in a haze before he sighed and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re totally right. (Y/N), you’re the best. You just care about all of us so much,” He told me, taking my hand on his shoulder in his own and moving it onto the bartop.

“Well somebody has to, Bob, when none of your family is here,” I argued with him, laughing again when he gently laid his head on my shoulder.

“You’re right, again. You're always right, and you’re so smart,” He said softly, nodding his head on my shoulder and causing his glasses to go lopsided from the action.

Penny walked over to the two of us and set my drink and the water on the bartop, causing me to give her a thankful look. I released my hand from Bob’s grip and began pushing the water toward his now free hand.

“Thank you,” He murmured, lifting his head and placing a kiss on my cheek.

I lightly blushed at his actions and shook my head at him. “Don’t thank me until tomorrow morning when your hangover isn’t as bad as it could be.

Bob gave a small giggle and nodded at me in agreement before he began chugging the water. I nodded at him in encouragement and rubbed his shoulder.

--------

Jake watched his best friend walk away from him after gently nudging her in the direction of the bar. His smile was bright until his best friend Javy gained his attention.

“Hey, Hangman, you wanna join?”

Jake broke his gaze from the (Y/H/C) after he was sure she made it to the bar safely. “Yeah, sure.”

Coyote handed him a pool stick as Rooster and Payback racked the balls. He took continuous glances at his friend as he waited his turn, telling himself that he was just making sure she was safe.

“Hey, Hangman, how about you stop staring at your girlfriend and you pay attention to the game,” Natasha slurred from her spot next to Rooster.

Rooster nudged the female and gave her a small glare at her words, causing her to look up at him and shrug innocently.

“It’s not like that,” Jake argued with her.

“Oh, please. Do you honestly think we’re all stupid enough to believe that? There’s a reason we’re the best of the best,” Natasha argued back, rolling her eyes at him.

“I think that only applies to flying,” Fanboy spoke up while Coyote began scolding the woman.

“Natasha, knock it off,” Coyote said to her sternly, leaning back up from the pool table after taking his turn.

“Why? I’m just stating the obvious. You said it yourself, Jake’s in love with (Y/N) and she’s in love with him and neither of them wants to admit it,” She slurred out with a shrug.

“That’s not what’s going on. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jake argued with her again.

“Mhm, yeah sure. You’re delusional then,” Phoenix finished off before shrugging and moving to sit with Fanboy at his table.

Jake continued to stare at the woman in deep thought until Coyote placed his hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey, man, just ignore her. You know how she can be. She’s just busting your balls,” Coyote told him.

“Yeah, no, yeah, I know. It’s just… Phoenix being Phoenix,” Jake agreed with him quietly before looking back at the game at hand.

“But on a brighter note, you gotta admit that (Y/N) is looking pretty damn good tonight,” Coyote commented, causing Jake to follow his gaze and a mesmerized smile to take over his face.

“Yeah, she does,” He breathed out, taking in the woman across the room.

Coyote looked between the two people and shook his head in amusement before landing a smack to his chest. “Your turn.”

Jake nodded at him and turned towards the pool table to take his turn. He looked up from where he was leaning over to take his turn to check on his best friend again. A smile overcame his face at the sight of her already looking over at him. Jake couldn’t help but send her a wink before making his move, causing her to roll her eyes in amusement and turn back to the bar. Jake stood back up from his position and watched the next person take their turn until Fanboy spoke up from where he was sitting with Phoenix.

“Where’d Bob go?”

All he could see was red. He looked away from his best friend long enough to take another turn at 9-ball, and when he looked back up Phoenix’s nerdy WSO was putting drunken moves on (Y/N).

He watched as Bob grabbed your hand from his shoulder as you talked and gripped it in his own. He watched as the man placed his head on your shoulder and you laughed at something he said. However, the straw that broke the camel’s back was when he placed a kiss on your cheek. Jake had never asked Coyote to hold his beer and pool stick as fast as he did at that moment. The drunk aviator fumbled to hold the items and dropped the pool stick with a clang as Jake began to take quick strides across the Hard Deck towards the two individuals at the bar. His strides became even quicker at the site of his best friend rubbing Bob’s shoulder as he chugged a glass of water.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing Baby on Board,” Jake questioned the WSO darkly.

Jake watched you turn to him with a look of utter confusion at his tone out of the corner of his eye but refused to take his eyes off the man standing in front of him. Bob slowly lowered the glass of water back down to the bar and wiped his mouth before looking over at his fellow aviator.

“Just drinking some water,” Bob informed him with a bright grin before picking the cup back up.

“Jake,” you whispered to him, trying to gain his attention.

Jake didn't remove his eyes from Bob and straightened up, taking a step between the two of you. Your confusion was furthered when he made this move, looming over Bob with a threatening demeanor.

“Jake, what the hell are you doing,” You questioned him, placing your hand on his arm and pulling him away from the clueless aviator.

Jake still refused to look away from Bob, causing you to move around the side of him and step between the two. Jake finally removed his gaze from Bob long enough to look down at you. You raised your eyebrows at him in question and watched his face soften. You sighed in slight annoyance and shook your head at him before turning around to look at Bob.

--------

“Hey, Bobby, how about you take your water and go join everybody else again, yeah,” I questioned him sweetly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Okay,” Bob nodded at me with a smile, turning around and making his way back toward the group.

I watched and waited until he was greeting everybody else before turning back around and looking at Jake.

“What the hell was that,” I questioned him, looking up at him in shock and disbelief.

“What do you mean “what the hell was that?” Baby on Board was clearly making a move on you,” Jake defended looking at me in disbelief as well.

“That's not what was happening. He's drunk Jake. He doesn't know what he's doing,” I argued.

“So that's supposed to make it okay,” Jake threw at me.

“No-,” I started, only to be cut off.

“What do you have the hots for Bob or something,” he added.

“What? No,” I denied quickly, only having a second to shake off my disbelief at his words.

“So it would be completely fine if Rooster were to come over and do the same thing,” He questioned me quickly.

“Wha- Jake,” I scoffed out, shaking my head at him.

“Or Coyote, or Pheonix. Maybe even Payback or Fanboy,” he began listing off, causing my frustration with him to grow.

“Jake, seriously,” I slightly whimpered.

“So it's fine for anybody to just come on over and flirt with you and touch you,” Jake snapped back.

“That's not- this isn't-,” I stuttered out, my increasing frustration with the situation making it difficult to properly form a sentence.

“Then what is it, (Y/N)? Tell me what this is. Make this make sense for me,” Jake snapped out at me.

I glared up at him and felt tears beginning to brim in my eyes when I finally snapped “You tell me, Jake. You're the one who made it into something.” 

Jake finally snapped his mouth shut and took a step back from me. He remained quiet but wouldn't remove his eyes from my own.

“What, you have nothing to say now? Because you had plenty a few seconds ago,” I scoffed.

Jake continued to remain silent, now avoiding eye contact. All I could bring myself to do was nod and reach over to grab my drink from the bartop.

“Okay, well… come find me when you finally come up with an excuse for acting like a jealous boyfriend,” I told him, beginning to walk away.

However, I stopped when I felt him place his hand on my elbow.

“What if it were me,” he asked me quietly, causing me to turn and face him with obvious confusion on my face.

“What?”

“What if it were me who was acting like that with you,” he repeated louder. I remained silent as I stared at him, and Jake spoke again at my silence. “What if I didn't just act like a jealous boyfriend and I was actually a jealous boyfriend? Or just a boyfriend in general?”

My confusion changed to shock at his question. I slowly moved back to my spot in front of him and placed my drink back on the bar. I looked down at his hand and watched as it slowly moved from my elbow and down my arm to intertwine with my hand.

“Then I would tell you there's no reason to be jealous because you're the only one I have eyes for,” I told him quietly, looking up from our hands to gaze into his eyes.

I could visibly see the tension turn into relief at my words. See his shoulders relax, his eyes soften slightly, his pinched lips release into a small smile. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something in response, but quickly shut it instead.

“You can kiss me now,” I said to him in encouragement.

“Oh, thank god,” Jake said in relief before releasing my hand to cup my face in both of his, placing his lips on my own.

I released a breath of relief myself at the feeling of his lips against my own, the feeling of his hands holding my face delicately, almost as if he were afraid that I would break. My hands raised to wrap around his wrists, gently gripping them in my own and rubbing my thumbs against the delicate skin. It was a gentle kiss that turned into one filled with passion. He released my lips briefly before moving in for one more. And then one more turned into two… three… until the sound of cheering echoed across the bar, causing the two of us to pull away and look towards the sound. A bright grin broke out across my face at the sight of the rest of the Dagger Squad looking over at us and cheering as if their home team just won a championship game. I began laughing in amusement at the group before looking up at Jake, seeing him have the same reaction as me before looking back down at me.

“I’m sorry to tell you this Darling, but I don’t think you’re ever going to be able to get rid of me,” Jake informed me with a faux smile of apology.

“That’s alright. I think I just might want to keep you around for a little while,” I smirked up at him before wrapping my hand around his neck to pull him into another breathtaking kiss.

---------

Meanwhile, the Dagger Squad watched their two friends with smiles on their faces and relief in their bodies at the thought of no longer having to watch the two of them dance around each other.

“It’s about time,” Coyote said, resulting in everybody letting out different noises and statements of agreement.

“So, wanna bet on when they’ll get engaged,” Rooster questioned, causing everyone to start shouting out dates and timespans.

However, this lasted for a short time due to Phoenix speaking up from her spot next to a still-drunk Bob.

���Wait, who won the original bet,” She questioned.

The group all looked around at each other curiously before looking over at the Hard Deck owner who appeared at their side with her glass jar in her hand.

“Bob won,” She stated simply.

“What,” Was the resounding answer in disbelief.

She nodded at them in amusement before answering. “He won by two weeks. Predicted it would happen by (Y/N)’s birthday.”

The group looked over at a now passed-out Bob, his head slumped down on the table and Phoenix running her hand over his head gently.

“Did he technically cheat,” Fanboy questioned his friends, pointing over at Bob.

“There’s no way he was smart enough to do that when he’s that drunk. I think it was just a lucky break,” Payback argued with him, causing Rooster and Coyote to nod in agreement with the frontseater. 

Penny made her way over to the WSO and gently shook him, causing him to raise his head from the table in a haze, looking over at the bartender in confusion.

“Congratulations, Lieutenant,” She smirked at him, leaving the jar in front of him before walking off back to the bar.

Bob looked down at the jar in confusion before looking at all of the aviators in front of him who were looking at him in disbelief.

“Did I win?”

[the-kr8tor]

Yes? Pookie? 🤭

AHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ Your thoughts helped me with motivation in writing it so thank you thank you from the bottom of my heart ❤️

Dead Man's Hand

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 11.5k

Tags: Use of Y/N, sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), Cowboy AU, wild west AU, CW food mention, CW vomit mention, CW blood and gore, CW guns, TW violence, TW abuse, TW suicidal thoughts, TW death.

A/N: if there are any warnings that I've missed please tell me so I could add it in.

This chapter tackles dark themes, read at your own discretion.

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 10 >>>

The pungent, acrid and hot air of metal and gunpowder brings Hobie back in time as he slams open the steel doors to the factory with a harsh kick. Machinery whirs, and twists, sharp steel dancing to the beat of the flames as it turns molten iron into instruments of death.

Hobie roams his fury-filled eyes around the factory, green flames flicker in those eyes, finding grime coated faces of strangers staring back at him and his posse. One glances their dark eyes towards the upper level of the factory where a balcony is placed. Where Hicks would look down with contempt, and would scream at the overworked employees to hurry production. Hobie knows it all too well, the factory mirrors the one back home. In the middle of the balcony sits an office with frosted windows that bear Hicks’ name. But the man is nowhere to be found within the crowd.

“If you're not Hicks, get the fuck out.” He doesn't need to yell the command, for everyone turns to run outside towards the back exit where half of Miguel's gang lies in wait; and Hicks' lackeys lay dead on the soft muddy ground.

One running and hiding away amidst the crowd catches his eye with the same face as one of the men who buried him all those years ago. “‘cept you.” With one swift raise of his six shooter, smoke billowing out, a hole now sits on the man's torso where his heart should be. “Hicks, better get down ‘ere or my people will blow this place to the ground.” Hobie steps over the bloody body, crimson coating the sole of his boots. “Rainin’ bullets don't mix well with a room full of explosives.”

There's no movement nor a whisper in the entire factory save for the fading sounds of the machines slowly shutting off. He catches a glimpse of a shadow behind a closed frosty door in the upper level of the factory. It was quick and sudden, if not for Riri's gentle nudge towards the movement, he'd think he was seeing you again for a brief cruel moment.

“Ri, Karl, come with me.” Hobie emerges behind the blackened air from the large machines. Three sets of boots thumping silently as they bound upstairs.

He reaches the door, back on the solid wall and away from the glass. Riri stays on his right, shotgun cocked and ready while Karl checks his bag of TNT on Hobie's left. As he moves to open the door, a bullet pierces the glass, shattering it into sharp tiny pieces. A shard nicks Hobie's cheek, but he ignores the throbbing pain as blood trickles out.

“You're still alive, you little shit?!” Hicks yells, shooting blindly at the door.

The trio stays still and waits for the opening. A click echoes in the quiet, and clouds of gunpowder float through the air. Hobie and the others take their opportunity. Karl lights a stick of dynamite, chucking it inside the room and then ducking down to cover his ears. Hobie doesn't waste time, leaving the safety of the cover, he twists to face the door, shooting at the flying TNT— effectively blowing it near Hicks while Hobie holds onto his hat so that it doesn't get blown away.

The explosion causes Hobie to stagger backwards, if not for Riri pulling him back to the side, he would've fallen off the railings. Sulfur fills the air as they cough, puffs of grey smoke clouds the entire office space.

His ears ring, a sharp high pitched sound that he's awfully familiar with. He gives Riri a thankful nod, which she replies with a smug smile and a raise of her eyebrow. Hobie takes the lead, flicking his eyes towards Karl, who gives him a thumbs up, and with his hair all messed up from the explosion. Satisfied that his group is alright, he enters the fray. Smoke giving way to him and his raised gun. Shards of glass crunch at his feet, singed papers lay burned on the floorboards as embers flicker out in the air.

As the smoke clears out and the hot air of the south enters through the broken windows— Hobie finds no one inside the room.

“Fuck!” As he yells into the emptiness, a horse neighs outside, hooves running frantically away while bullets fly and ricochet. He immediately looks down, finding Hicks half burnt and riding away. “Like a fuckin’ roach.” Without thinking ahead, Hobie vaults from the window, softening his fall with a roll. Landing, knees aching but intact, he whistles for Bucky.

“Hobie, what the fuck?!” Riri and Karl simultaneously scream out, but Hobie's already running while Bucky follows right behind him.

Once Buckeye trots next to him, Hobie grabs hold of the saddle's horn to swiftly lift himself up on the saddle with a quick pull. No one's going to stop him, Miguel already considers Hicks dead just from the look of determination behind those green eyes.

Hobie leaves everyone in the dust. Bucky neighs wildly, huffing and puffing as he tries to catch up. “Hicks!” Said man turns on his saddle a few ways ahead, arm raising to aim and to shoot his gun. Bullets whizz past, hot air passing by as Hicks misses every single bullet.

Hicks’ scalding flesh makes him keel over in pain as his blood drenches his horse. “Shit!” He kicks roughly, his horse whines before speeding off.

Bucky gains speed, catching up to Hicks whilst he reloads. But of course, his hired guns finally catch wind. A handful of them appear from the side, trudging from the muddy swamp with alligators lurking underneath, and riding towards the bumpy road where the main chase is happening.

The rival posse hollars and hoots, sneering smiles and guns aimed at Hobie. Riri and the others are still catching up to him, so he's left alone to defend himself and Bucky. With fury fuelling him, he has everything to lose so he'll shoot through all of them like a hot knife through butter.

While the mercenaries leave the line of trees, Hobie enters the thicket, swerving to the side, using the large and sturdy trees for cover. The ground may be soft and muddy, but Hobie and his loyal horse have been in dozens of situations like this. The swamp might've slowed them down but it doesn't stop them as splintered wood flicks and flies while his enemies continue to shoot at his swift horse.

A bullet comes too close to his head, piercing a hole in the brim of his hat. He clicks his tongue, annoyed at the damage. Patting Bucky, he takes his foot off one of the stirrups to bring it to the safer side where no bullets could come at him. With two legs on one side, hand holding on to the saddle horn and reins, Hobie rides sideways, hiding his body while peeking over and shooting with calculated aim as Bucky runs back towards the path. One by one, the mercenaries fall off their horses with his bullets pierced through their bodies. The road is coated with their blood, leaving trails of rubies for his posse to follow.

Miguel trots closer, shooting at what remains of Hicks' men. The gang hoots at the sight, adrenaline rushing through their veins, and blood heating up from the violence.

While Riri and Karl have their eyes on Hobie, who now sits upright on Bucky, they kick on their horses and off they go, riding side by side with Him. Hicks panics from the sheer volume of horses running after him, with his last bullets, he aims at Bucky's leg.

Hobie beats him to the punch, quickly thrashing his whip made out of jagged metal wires, tearing the skin off of Hicks' arm apart when Hobie pulls hard at it. Hicks screams in sheer agony, tumbling and falling off his horse into the moist ground, soil entering his burns and mouth. When the dust settles, he looks up to only see the end of Hobie's gun.

It's silent in the marsh as the sun shines on his gun; frogs hum in the distance, gators trill when they smell meat while Hicks' labored breathing quickens. Hobie has his gun digging into Hicks’ skull, skin red and angry from his burns. Half of his face has melted into a mess of meat and bones, left eye barely opening from his melted eyelid. A pungent smell permeates from his oozing wounds, clothes torn and burned to ash, and ankle twisted at an angle. Hicks’ hands are buried halfway into the ground as he sinks down to the muddy plains.

Everyone thinks he should be dead by now, even Hicks himself, but death won't grant him the sweet release just yet— not until Hobie takes what he is owed.

“My, don't you look pretty, Hicks.” Hobie doesn't smile nor smirk at the sight of the man who buried him alive five years ago. A man who now kneels before him, disfigured beyond recognition, feeding the soil under him with his own suffering.

“F-fuck y-y-you.” Hicks' lips tremble from the unimaginable pain. “I w-will not b-beg.” He manages to curl half of his melted lips into one final sneer. “Not l-like how you did.”

“I don't want you to beg, Hicks.” Hobie digs the metal harshly, skin ripping and tearing like paper from under the gun. “I need to know where she is. You're dyin' anyway, your last words might as well be somethin' useful.”

Hobie's cold words makes the man scoff that quickly turns into a painful cough. “No. Didn't your old man tell you that revenge is a f-fool's game?”

“This isn't revenge, this is retribution.” Hobie tilts his head, looking behind Hicks where a pack of gators trill and show themselves under the green swamp. “If you tell me, I won't let the gators eat you alive.”

“Wha–?” Hicks' slowly turns his trembling head, skin painfully tugging with every movement. One of the gators snaps its maw, warning with its sharp teeth. The entire gang hears this grown man whimper from fear.

“They look mighty hungry, Hicks. Better hurry up.”

“You'd t-take me away from them?”

“No, I'd put you out of your misery before they get to you. Something you didn't give me back then.”

Hobie can practically see the rusty cogs in Hicks' head turning. “...alright, just don't let them eat m-me.” His burns flares up as he doubles in pain.

Hobie makes the man raise his head with the barrel pushing his chin up. “Sure.”

“She's at the big white house near Blackwater, just west of the r-road. You can't miss it.”

“You lyin’” Hobie doubts the information when he gave it to him too fast. Jaw tightening at the thought of you being so close yet so far from his reach.

“No, I'm not.” Hicks hears the unmistakable sound of the reptile crawling closer. “It's the truth.”

Riri flicks her eyes towards Hobie, leaning close, whispering lowly at his ear. “I know the place.” Hobie doesn't miss the hard look in her eyes. “He's not local, that place is well hidden, he wouldn't know that only the locals know about it.” She glares at the sniveling man, “It's ways away from the road he's talking about. Fucking far from it. Easily missed if you're not familiar with the place.”

Hicks figures out what she's whispering when Hobie's anger flares, hand tightening around his gun. “I'm telling the truth, Hobie. It's there and she's waiting for you! I promise! She's the one lying!” He points a crooked finger at Riri.

“Thought you wouldn't beg.” His fate is sealed with the gators. “Technically you did lie.” Hobie drops his arm, gun aimed away from Hicks. “Off you go with the gators, boss.”

“No, no, Hobie! Please, I'm sorry!” Hicks tries to grab at Hobie's leg, but Hobie kicks him down on the ground and on his back. He tilts his head back, meeting face to face with a ten foot alligator that seems to smile at him.

His screams echo around the marsh while Hobie and the others get on their horses. He watches the gator death roll the flailing Hicks on the muddied ground until the wailing stops completely.

Hobie leads the pack away while he leaves behind the sound of tearing skin and bones cracking under sharp teeth. And all he could think about is you, and how he could've had a good life with you.

—

Draped in chiffon and stab silk, iridescent blues and purples dance along the fabric as light hits it. Expensive fabric that hides all the aching blemishes on your flesh by the same men who claim that they are doing it for your sake, that it's the only way you would obey.

Your hands are tied behind your back with Cross' hand wrapped around your wrists in a sickening grip; preventing you from moving. You shine under the southern sun, all gold and frills but none of the happiness behind your sullen and dull eyes.

For a fleeting moment in those months you were with Hobie, you had peace. You'd stay there forever if you could, if only the world had granted it to you, instead of the pain that it brought down upon you.

You could've had a good life together.

It's been a whole month since the last time you saw Hobie alive. A whole month without hearing his voice, without his loving touch; and a whole month with the same family who has hurt you in every possible way they could. The image of Hobie buried under the rubble of your shared home spirals you over the edge once again. You've cried, wept and sobbed some more, but nothing has helped. You feel like you've died right next to him. You wish you had.

Meanwhile you have a wound that was never meant to be healed inside you. A wound that was momentarily healed, until you were brought back to the reality of your dreaded life.

You instinctively run your finger around the gold band around your finger, finding the unfamiliar diamond instead of the simple gold band that turns your face even more sour at the scalding heat that turns your heavy dress into an oven. You had the foresight to hide Hobie's ring the second you had a chance. It now lays underneath your floorboards waiting for you.

There's a heavy feeling in your chest, grief running along your heart, plunging your very being into darkness. It was like that day five years ago, you have no knowledge of him alive, no way of knowing if Hicks ended him. It's an awful case of déjà vu.

Both men stand beside you, as if they're meant to guard you. The estate stands behind you, its large shadow looming over you. All Its white marble and columns stand tall, doors that don't creak, windows pristine and gleaming— but you'd rather have the pile of ashes you once called home.

This place lacks a heartbeat.

You flick your tired eyes over to the well beside the estate, your body shivers from how cold it was inside, when you sank into it like stone the first time Hicks threw you inside. It's a miracle you didn't break your neck, in that moment, you wished it had.

A carriage arrives from a distance, horses galloping along the road towards the estate. Wispy cypress trees sit around the path, parting way for the dirt road leading to the house. Its soft leaves dance in the wind, leaves fluttering by as you watch the carriage get closer and closer.

“Remember to smile, we can't lose their money.” Hicks grabs the back of your dress, yanking your neck down for emphasis. “Don't be a bitch like last time or you'll get the well tonight. And I heard it'll be cold tonight.”

“I'll be in my best behavior, uncle.” Your glare towards the rich couple exiting the carriage says otherwise.

Hicks only gives you a stern look before letting you go. Cross loosens his grip for a moment and you immediately take your hands in front of you so he couldn't hold you again. You haven't spoken a word to the man you call husband since you arrived at the estate. Your defiance got your bedroom door locked from the outside for now but was taken apart for the first week of your stay. Showing you bare to the entire world, revealing to the world that you're his.

The woman clad in gold and gemstones huffs, flinging away a fly from her painted face. “God, I hate this humidity.”

“This better be good this time, Hicks.” Her husband takes his tophat off, wrinkling his nose at the scent of heat and damp marsh.

“You won't regret traveling for this, Mr. Burnell.” Hicks sucks up to the man. “My, don't you look lovely, Mrs. Burnell.”

She giggles, hiding the blush dusting her cheeks with a fan. “Oh don't be such a gentleman, Hicks.”

“Stop sucking up to my wife, Hicks.” Even though his smile tells you that it's a joke, his tone says that he's completely irked by your uncle. Perhaps this has happened before.

You roll your eyes subtly, Cross’ jaw tightens as he shakes hands with both guests. “It's a pleasure to have you both today.” He says flatly.

“An honour.” Your tone is tight, lips turned into a strained smile.

“I remember you,” the male Burnell smiles faintly at you. “And you too,” he points at Cross. “I was at your wedding, what a wonderful ceremony.” You clench your fists tightly around your lace gloves, almost tearing the fabric.

“Oh I also remember!” His wife claps, “your gown was lovely, and the deviled eggs were to die for!”

You laugh, a sound more akin to a scoff. “I should've had some back then.”

Mr. Burnell reaches for both of your hands, holding you gently as you make a face at him that doesn't quite reach the man's full understanding. “I'm sorry about your aunt, we sent flowers to the funeral. I hope it was to your liking.”

“I wouldn't know, I wasn't there.” You swallow thickly.

“Oh poor dear,” The woman touches your cheek, and you flinch away. She coos as if you're a child. “You couldn't even bear saying goodbye.”

“Sure,” you slide your hands away from the man's hold, and then you take her hand away from your skin. “That's why.”

Hicks inhales deeply, “why don't we go to the gazebo? Tea is being served there.” He takes their attention away from you.

“We came all this way and you don't even have lunch for us?” Mr. Burnell raises a thick brow, his wife agrees with a nod.

“We did.” Cross finally speaks through gritted teeth. “It got cold.” The couple flares their nostrils in annoyance.

“This place was hard to find.”

“You had us waiting for two hours. Hardly an excuse, Mr. Burnell.” Cross doesn't back down from the older man's stare.

“W-what my associate was trying to say was that— we didn't want to serve you all cold beef! No one likes cold beef, correct?” Hicks tries to save the day, but they don't respond. “There's deviled eggs in the gazebo.” That seemed to work as they followed Hicks towards the blue gazebo behind the house.

Cross yanks you back to his side before you could get far. Your chest tightens, threatening to stop your breathing as he whispers towards one of the estate workers to prepare a batch of deviled eggs immediately. The second they leave, you glare at Cross, refusing to touch him even though his fingers dig into your arm.

“Don’t run, Y/N.” He says for the umpteenth time. You would run, and you had a few times while you're with him. But you were only met with your cheeks burning into the shape of his palm, and his hired guns dragging you back inside the mansion with their lassos tied around your ankles.

“I can't even breathe in this dress, moreso run in it.” You try to take your arm back but he stops you with his nails dragging along your sleeves.

“Be good, be fucking obedient. Don't be impossible like you always were.” His green eyes remind you so much of Hobie that it taints his image in your mind. You refuse to let it fog his image.

“I am not a dog, Cross.” You fight back, why shouldn't you? You have nothing to lose now.

He comes close to your face, jade eyes reflecting the fear in your expression, breath wafting over your face. “Then don't act like one.” His eyes pass over your face, finding fear laced in between the creases of your expression. His tone softens, one that sends shivers down your spine. “Why don't you call me by my real name? Cross is our last name, Y/N. Can you call me—”

“No.” You yank yourself away even if it means that his fingers drag along your arm in a manner that makes your skin run cold.

The next thing you know you're sitting next to Mrs. Burnell, who swallows down deviled eggs like its water. The entire table is set all prettily, blue laces sitting under white porcelain, utensils draped in silver, and chairs soft whilst the gazebo with lilacs growing on the roof acts as your shade. A graveyard full of Cross’ ancestors lies just a few ways away from the gazebo. Withering gravestones left unattended, and overgrown grass drowning each of the carved names. It leaves a heavy presence in the back of your mind.

The fork in your hand shakes, silver shining in the sunlight bearing down behind you just as when a pair of red cardinals fly next to the gazebo. The murmurs of the marsh echoes around the estate, gators trilling a few ways away, birds chirping and cawing right next to croaking bullfrogs. You're surrounded by green with a dash of greed as Hicks continues to suck up to the rich prospective partners.

A hand cups your own, and for a flicker, you thought it was Hobie's calloused hand gently holding onto you until his nails jab into your palm. Cross gives you a hard look, gesturing for you to eat instead of staring blankly at the cakes in front of you. With a mocking smile, you take a glass of cold orange juice on your right, condensation drenching your ungloved hand. You don't break eye contact as you gulp down the entire glass, making the Burnells look at you with pinched brows. For the final touch, you exhale loudly as if you were thirsty beyond belief.

Hicks chuckles nervously, eyes darting from you to the rich couple. Cross is fuming silently, letting your hand go limp on the table. An employee comes to your side, refilling your glass as everyone at the table stays in awkward silence. You can't help but puff out your chest with pride. Hobie would've loved to see that. Their faces would be worth it for the wrath you're about to face.

Mr. Burnell clears his throat, “as I was saying, we can't give twenty thousand for only ten percent shares. It's daylight robbery, Hicks.”

“Oh come on, Quentin, you've known me for a long time!” Hicks plays the ‘old friend’ card, a trick you've seen one too many times. “You know I can be trusted, and that ten percent will go higher once we've had our foothold here in America.”

“I do know you, that's why you can't be trusted. Even her aunt knew better when she gave the company to her.” Burnell pauses, bespectacled eyes staring at you briefly. Your lips curl up into a smirk. You probably don't have to work too hard in sabotaging this one. “Besides, that was back when you were the leading manufacturer in the UK. There was a guarantee, now you're here in a country that is practically shitting bullets by the buckets.” He leans back in his seat, “face it, you old dog, there's no profit here for you.”

“He's right,” His wife enters the conversation, dabbing her mouth daintily with a handkerchief. “Why did you even move here in the first place? I heard the company was doing badly back home but not that bad, right?”

Hicks coughs, drinking from his glass, stalling from answering. Cross has had enough, he leans on the table, elbows right next to his untouched plate, white suit unblemished.

“Because I'm here.” He takes your hand, making a show of it for the Burnells. He's using the ‘I love my wife’ card. Surprisingly, it's only the second time he has used it on the rich and stupid. “And my wife deserves to be with her husband, yes?” The couple looks at each other, then returns their attention to you as you try incredibly hard not to vomit all over the table. “I've…ignored her for far too long while I'm always here tending to my own business.” He clasps the back of your hand with his free hand. “We were deeply saddened by her aunt's passing, but I saw a silver lining. Taking the tragedy and turning it into something better by bringing her and her family business here to my home so we could finally start having our own family here without the dark cloud looming over us.” He was right about one thing, your aunt was a dark cloud looming over everyone. Cross leaned close, pecking your hand chastely. “Right, love?”

You close your eyes to prevent yourself from heaving out what little you've eaten. “Right.” Tone small and disgusted, you have the sudden urge to stab his eyes out with a fork. For a second, your mind gives you that exact image. Seeing his blood spurt out from his sockets and spraying on the deviled eggs.

For some reason, even with the disgusted look on your face, the Burnells' hard exterior softens. The missus clutches the pearls on her chest as if she just heard the most romantic story, and the male Burnell nods along with a fond smile. “You two remind me of my first marriage.” His wife chuckles, you frown, eyebrows knitted together as Cross plays along to his concocted story.

They continue their negotiation with more enthusiasm. Hicks pats Cross gladly on the shoulder, already drafting up a contract on a piece of parchment. Thankfully, Cross has let you go. Free to wipe your hand on your dress. You replay the last minute in your mind, like you're stuck in the moment he touched you with his dry lips upon the same hand you used to cradle Hobie's face with.

The conversation fades into the background, a thought passes you by, one that you're too grief stricken to see until now. Why is Cross even helping Hicks? He has the money to fund whatever the factory needs, he doesn't even need to be in the conversation. He has nothing to gain from this. He already has you, so why does he seem so desperate to get this partnership?

Then it hits you, he's as bankrupt as Hicks. Hicks, who drove the company to the ground with his moronic decisions the second your great aunt was in the ground. And Cross, there was never a day in your short marriage with him that he wasn't out gambling his family fortune away, or going to exotic places you've only read in books. When he doesn't have his hands on you, he's at the nearest pub or the derby races, betting everything in his pockets. You always just thought he had that much money to lose. But you were wrong. And the only reason you're here is because of the money your parents have set aside for you, money that is tied up with the company or what is left of it— the company that you own and have the last say in. Until your name isn't written in that contract that Hicks shoves in your face every morning, they have nothing.

“You have nothing.” You blurt out, you don't regret it immediately.

“Excuse me?” Mr. Burnell says, offended.

“Not you, I know you have money.” You place your elbows on the table, chin propped up on your scarred palm. “I was talking about my dear uncle and beloved husband.” Your words drip with venom and sarcasm.

“What are you saying?” Mrs. Burnell asks, concerned, either for your well being with the two men or for the money she almost lost.

“Shut it, Y/N.” Hicks says through gritted teeth, eyes warning you.

“Don't tell a woman to shut up, Hicks.” Surprisingly, Mr. Burnell defends you. “Speak, girl.” And there goes your respect.

“They don't have anything.” Cross tries to yank your hand back but you quickly tug yourself away. “Hicks is lying, the company is losing money, not gaining it. Production has been down since they moved here, probably because Hicks doesn't know how to run a company.”

You continue your tirade without missing a beat. “He was a manager before marrying my aunt, but he was a shit manager. If not for Peter—” you inhale and clear your mind. “All I'm saying is, he's asking for a scapegoat for the debt collectors, not a business partner.” You flick your eyes mockingly towards the seething Hicks. Meanwhile, Cross sits quietly, you're afraid but you have to continue. “I retract my previous words.” Hicks inhales with relief. “It's not probably, it's definitely.” He stutters, trying to save face but you continue. “He's overworking the workers and because of that there's more mistakes. More mistakes means more bullets that come out a little crooked. That's good, if your targets swerve to the left.”

“She's lying!” Hicks laughs shakily, fists slamming down on the table. “You know how women are? She's hysterical because of her aunt's passing.”

You scoff. “You said it yourself, Mr. Burnell, you don't trust Hicks.” All eyes are on you. Your words fill you with pride, Hobie would be proud. “As for Cross, I wouldn't even trust him with my coin pouch.”

The Burnells seemingly believe you, heads turned slowly towards Cross and Hicks, eyes boring holes in their foreheads. “Looks like we wasted our time. You're right, honey, we should've gone for the Winchester instead of this clown show.”

“You believe me?” You ask, bewildered. “That quick?”

“We passed by the factory on our way here, that's why we were late.” Burnell answers back. Already taking his belongings to leave. “We saw the horrid conditions. We were naive to believe that it was like that because you're still getting used to the transition.” He helps his wife up as Hicks follows behind the couple. Cross stays behind silently while you stay with the Burnells in hopes that they'd take you with them. “Thank you, girl.”

“You're welcome, c-can I—” The couple gets in their carriage, eyes blinking at you. “Can I come with you?” You sound like a child, voice trembling in hope that they'll say yes. “Please.”

Hicks chuckles incredulously right next to them, but his eyes grow dark at your request, a warning. Cross appears behind you, green eyes hidden by the shadow of his hat, lips clamped into a fine line.

“What for, girl?” Mr. Burnell asks, “We don't need any more bootlicking. We're not giving you the money for the factory.”

You flex your fists on your sides, eyes darting in between Hicks and Cross. Heart thumping, you have to try. “I don't— it's not that. I don't need the money. I—”

“So you do have the money for the company then? Why bother asking us?” The older man cuts you off, scoffing while his wife rolls her eyes. “Kids these days, so greedy.” He gets in the carriage, following his wife.

“Wait! Please!” It's too late as they run off in the distance. In your desperation, you start to run after them. But before you could go far, Cross stops you with his arms embracing you from behind. “No! Please come back! They're hurting me here—!” Your flailing stops when Hicks steps in front of you with his gun raised.

“Do you have any idea what you've done?” He clicks the hammer down, finger right on the trigger. “You've doomed us.”

With tears in your eyes, Cross holds you against him tighter. Chest aching, breath stolen from you. “No, just you!” Yet, you continue to fight. You might've lost hope a long time ago if not for Hobie. Hope that you'll get out like last time, hope that Hobie will be there waiting for you. But there's a part of you that just wants to let go. Looking over your shoulder, you're met with familiar green eyes that used to fill you with calm. “And you.”

“I should shoot you right here.”

“Do it then. But you can't because without my signature you're fucking broke!” With a cackle, Hicks yanks the back of your head, taking you from Cross' arms, dragging you towards the well. Body scraping against soil, you try to scratch at his hands but it doesn't deter him as his anger fuels him.

“Fucking bitch, you keep ruining shit!” He yanks you to your feet, and then pressing your front to the mouth of the well while pushing you down harshly, making you look down at the depths.

You yelp, sharp rocks digging into your stomach, eyes forced to look down at the deep dark well. It's cold down there, you wonder if this is what it felt like for Hobie back at the farm. Staying quiet, your hands grip the sides to keep your balance, a bead of sweat falling down and leaving ripples as it hits the stagnant water.

“What, no begging or screaming and crying this time?” Hicks latches on your hair tightly, scalp burning from his hold.

“I've gotten used to the dark. You won't hear me begging ever again.” Your voice echoes down to the bottom. “You can't hurt me anymore, not in the way that matters.” Releasing your hold on the sides, you lean closer to the edge. Expecting the cold embrace and the familiar weightlessness, it doesn't come.

There's a scoff above before you're let go. “I have to correct your fuck up.” He seethes, giving your leg a swift kick as you lay your head on the stone. “Deal with her.”

“I'm not one of your employees, Hicks.” Cross challenges him.

“She's your fucking wife. You discipline her while I go to the factory. As for you,” he flicks the shell of your ear. “Your name better be on that contract when I get back.” You hear their continued bickering whilst you even out your breathing. Just like what Hobie would tell you.

After a rustle of clothing and dress shoes thumping on the ground, you fall on your knees, still clutching the well. Face hidden from Cross, he sighs, hand reaching towards you. Feeling the sickening familiarity of his hand wrapped around your arm, you instinctively flinch away.

“Why couldn't you just obey, just this once?”

You heave, furrows knitted in anger. Looking over your arm, your glare sends goosebumps up his arms. “I'm not one of your hounds.”

“Then why do you kneel like one?” The sun behind him engulfs his entire form, turning him into a breathing shadow.

“Go fuck yourself, Cross.” You shakily stand up while avoiding his gaze. Walking towards the house, you clench your fists until you feel your blunt nails leave pin pricks of crimson

“I'm trying here, Y/N. You're making it impossible.” He yanks you back, neck craned to the side to look at you. “I'm holding back but you're not making this easy.”

“You sound like this is all my fault.” You still avoid his eyes, forgoing to look at the tree behind him. “I'm not the one who gambled all your money away. And I didn't force you to marry me.” His fingers pull you closer.

“Look at me.”

“Fuck you—” you try to escape but he's stronger.

“Look at me just like how you look at him.” He forcefully turns your head with his hand burrowing into your chin.

With apprehension, you chuckle, a cracked dry laughter. Your eyes slowly move to the green eyes in front of you. “I'll never look at you like that. Nothing you do will make me look at you with the same love I give to him.”

Cross swallows thickly, jaw tightening. “Why him?”

“It felt right. We share the same heart.” It's the first truth you've said in a month, and for once you smile genuinely. “I'll always love him, remember that.”

He inhales, and you wait for the impact.

“Sir?” The housekeeper asks from the side, hands wringing in front of her. “Is everything alright?” Her brown hair shimmers in the sun like copper, lips turned into a fine line.

She reminds you of the former housekeeper that tried to help you by taking your letter addressed to Hobie. Cross found out about it, you haven't seen her since then.

“We're alright, Belinda.” Cross lets you go, leaving a mark on your arm. “Fetch me my hunting rifle.”

You leave with haste, hands shaking as you hitch your skirt up. You can feel his sickly green eyes on you, like a shadow that envelops you whole.

You've crossed the line, and you fear that this is the end for you.

—

Pacing around your room, you walk around and hold your breath. It's like waiting for the gallows, waiting for the bullet to hit you. Hobie's ring is back on your finger instead of what Cross gave you on your wedding day, which is the exact same one you left on the bedside table when you escaped. You twist it around your finger as the room shifts and twirls in your vision.

The room is finely decorated with daffodils painted on the walls, gold fixtures on the ceiling with painted deers trotting overhead on fields of green on the ceiling. The room looks like it used to be a child's room. A pale blue bed sits in the middle of the room, draped in a satin canopy. It's a stark contrast to the room back at the farm, all wood and none of the gilded walls. But you'd choose that a hundred times over if given the chance. Especially if Hobie's there waiting for you.

You feel like you're slowly disappearing into the walls.

Your eyes have been glued to the door as you chew your nails. You'd lock the doors from the inside if the locks weren't instead bolted from the outside. Tears brim at your eyes, but you refuse to let it go as you sniff. You miss your home, you miss the smell of dew in the morning. You miss Clover and how she cuddles on your side. You miss Cherry and Bucky and your afternoon rides with them. You miss him, you miss Hobie and how he holds you gently, how he talks to you about things. It's him talking so you'd listen and speak with him until the sun decides to sleep. You miss his voice telling you that everything will be alright.

You wonder if everything will still be alright when you hear heavy footsteps outside your door.

Cross doesn't knock, and you wait at the foot of your bed, standing straight, eyes forward and daunting despite your fear. If he shoots you through the door now, would Hobie be there to greet you on the other side as darkness engulfs you one last time?

This house will be a tomb. Your tomb.

The door doesn't creek as Cross opens it. “Hunt with me, just like old times.” He has a rifle strapped to his back, suit traded in for his haunting gear, still clad in white leather. Your eyes flick over to the two guns on his belt. If only you could take it from him. Or at least one.

“Giving me a gun? Do you think that's wise?” You cross your arms over your chest, clearing your throat so he doesn't notice the shaking of your voice.

“Why? You'd shoot me in the back?” He asks chidingly.

“In a heartbeat.” You say without even a hint of a joke. “What's even out there, Cross? What are we hunting down?”

“A deer.”

“I don't think there are any deer out here.” A dangerous silence hangs in the air, choking you as he stares deeply at you. You inhale, swallowing down your fear as best as you can. “If you give me a knife instead, I will stab your eye out. Killing other things won't keep us from killing each other.”

He clicks his tongue, hand on the gun like he's mocking you. “Take the dog instead.” Taking the leash off his belt he holds it out for you. “A dog for a hound. At least this one is loyal.”

“Which end of the leash is the hound?”

“What do you want, Y/N, hm?” Tossing the leash harshly, he stalks closer, and you flinch back. A doe caught in the coyote's eye. “I broke your heart, I get it. Do you want me to apologize to you?”

“My heart? That's the only thing you haven't broken yet.” He stops a few feet away from you, yet still too close to you. “You broke my body until I could barely recognize myself anymore. My arms bear the shape of your nails, my scalp remembers the sharp tugs of your hands.” You exhale as a tear falls down your cheek. “Hobie broke my heart, but he pieced it together, piece by tiny piece.” You point at him repeatedly. “You, you broke everything else.”

“If this is about your aunt—”

“Fuck you! This isn't about her.” If this is really your end, you don't want to leave without saying the words you've been meaning to say out loud. You tremble for a second before grinning with tears in your eyes. "I'm glad she's gone. Her hold on me is gone.” You chuckle breathlessly, sighing loudly. “There I said it. It's like a boulder has been lifted off my shoulders.”

“Y/N,” there it is, the patronizing tone he uses on you. He's about to guilt you into something you haven't had a hand in, or chastise you like a child.

“Stop being so fucking delusional, take the blinders off for one fucking minute.” The fire in you latches on you. “This is about you and how you hurt me the second you brought me home after the wedding. You knew that I never wanted to marry anyone else, and that my aunt and Hicks hurt me back home. And instead of helping me, taking me away from them, you joined them.”

“I got you out of there. I married you.”

You laugh without an ounce of humour, clapping wildly. “Well thank you very much, Cross!”

“I tried for a little while, Y/N. But I'm your husband, and you continued to disobey so I had to go to them, ask them for advice.” He walks closer, you stop him with a hand in front of you, as if it will shield you from him. You've tried that once, it didn't work.

“Nothing you do will make me forgive you. I hope you drown in your guilt if you even have an ounce of it. I hope you lay awake at night thinking of how much you hurt me. I'd rather die than forgive you.” Cross steps forward with an unreadable expression, and the back of your knees hits the bed as you try to get away. You eye the gun, you fear that you won't keep your promise to Hobie.

The world already ended for you when Hicks killed him.

Cross tries again. You think it'll be the last time he will the second he walks closer to you, so close that you can see yourself in his eyes. “Sign the papers, Y/N, and everything will be over.”

“You know the second I sign it, Hicks will kill me.” Your eyes wander towards his unlatched gun.

“I won't let that happen.”

You laugh in his face, “Sure, but you'll let him hurt me. Might as well sign my death warrant instead.” Standing back up, you inch towards him bravely despite your instincts telling you to shield yourself. You have to get that gun. “I–I tried to love you at first, and remained optimistic in this marriage.” His eyes are on your face, irises darting over your lips while you sneak your hand towards his gun belt slowly. “Even indulging my idiotic childish whims of what a marriage could be like. But I couldn't, not when you hurt me just like they did. Only because I didn't love you like how you thought I would.” Your hand finds the cold metal, fingers wrapping around the handle. “For a second there I thought you'd be my saviour, when in fact it was the opposite. You joined them instead. You were just as bad as them.”

You stand toe to toe with him. You hear a glass breaking downstairs, and then the smell of something familiar. Snatching the gun quickly, you aim it at his stomach, steel meeting flesh. You feel the same sensation against your chest.

“I love you.” Cross utters, finger right on the trigger.

“I've seen love, this isn't it.” With your cold words, you shoot.

Both guns go off.

Both hitting their targets.

—

The sun is just beginning to set, orange peeking from the horizon, hues of pink and orange blanketing the three men. Each inhale from the cigarette perched in each of their lips has grey smoke filtering through their lungs. They should be guarding the front door like they were hired to do, instead they chainsmoke their way out into an early grave while hiding behind the estate, facing the vast green marsh that hides their debauchery from the rest of the world.

“You hear any cryin’ last night?” The one with an auburn beard asks, his rifle leaning against the wall right next to him instead of in his hand like it was supposed to be in.

A dark haired man answers, belching out smoke while crouched on the ground, eyes narrowed at the whispering willows. “Yeah, i think the stable boy wasn't lying, there's a fuckin' ghost here.”

“You two think it's a fucking ghoul or some shit?” The third one replies with a scoff, blonde hair peeking out from his hat as he takes a swig of moonshine.

“Yeah,” The first two responds, spine tingling when a cold breeze passes through them.

“It's the boss’ wife, not a ghost, you morons.” As the yellowed haired man responds, a bright flicker of light appears in between the willow trees. “What the fuck?” The two men next to him follows his terrified gaze, cigarettes falling off their lips.

The light moves, as if it dances in the wind. It flickers, brightening up into an orange glow before turning yellow once again. The three outlaws move from the wall, eyes glued on the mesmerizing ball of light.

“Fuck, it's a swamp ghost—” the one with the red beard gasps, choking on his own blood, frantically trying to stop his neck from gushing out ichor with a knife stuck to his throat.

The other two only had a split second to react before a sharp knife slashes at their exposed necks. They mirror each other, shirts stained with red, palms coated in warmth and crimson while they frantically try to stop the bleeding. They croak and creak out, eyes managing to fall upon hazel eyes, and one with his face covered in soot. They both hold a glinting knife, blood still trickling down from the steel.

Miguel leaves from his hiding place in the thicket, eyes flicking briefly towards their twitching forms before returning his gaze at the ball of light. He nods to Riri and Karl, who stand above the corpses. And then he gestures with his gloved hand, giving the warm light a small nod.

The light comes closer, footsteps echoing as boots sink in moist soil— appearing behind the darkness of the trees and into the fading light of the sun. Hobie's face is revealed behind the light with a lit cigarette in between his lips, shadows dancing around the fury behind his green eyes hidden by the brim of his hat. He inhales before flicking the cigarette away, falling into a puddle. More appear behind him, trees and bushes parting before the dozen men and women following in his steps.

“Karl, light the oleander for me will you?” Hobie tosses the bag of pink flowers in Karl's waiting hands. And then he takes his knife back from the auburn haired corpse, wiping it on the grass before sheathing it back on his belt.

“D’you think that'll work? What if she gets caught in it?” Riri whispers, gesturing for the gang to crouch down and hide beside the wall where the trio were last seen smoking.

Hobie drags one of the bodies, hiding it behind the bushes while the rest of the gang help with the other two. He follows Riri, blood rushing in his ears, adrenaline pumping through his veins at how close you are from him. It's only a matter of time before you're back safe and sound.

“She knows the smell, she'll cover her nose.” His voice doesn't waver, but his insides are turning and twisting inside him. He can't fail. “As for everyone, cover your damn noses, and protect your eyes as much as you can.”

“This won't kill us right?” Karl weighs the bag in his hands.

Miguel checks his bullets beside him, giving Hobie and Riri a once over if their weapons are lacking. “At most it'll make us sick and itch. Right, Hobie?”

“Just don't inhale it directly.” Hobie yanks his bandana up to his nose, fitting it snugly. He notices his hands shaking, closing his fists tightly, he cannot fail. A month of tracking you down can't end with him failing to save you, he can't lose you. “You know what to do, Karl. Ri go with him.”

“Hobie,” she clasps the back of his fist. “Be careful, alright? If you get hurt, call Roberto, he'll treat you.” Inhaling sharply, she pats his cheek. “Get her back but don't die on us, alright?”

Hobie couldn't look directly at Riri, “She goes first, Ri.”

“I know, that's why we brought Roberto with us, remember? He's the doctor, he knows what to do and…what to expect, if need be.”

Hobie nods, staring at his family. “Thank you for backing me up, I owe you. All of you.”

“Don't die and we're even, Hobie.” Miguel pats Hobie's bicep before heading to his designated position.

“What he said,” Karl smiles brightly, fist connecting to Hobie's clenched one gently. “Also if I don't return from this, Robbie's gonna fucking kill you, man.”

Hobie cracks a smile. “Yeah, I know. Try to stay alive for the both of us then.” Karl makes his way towards the front while Riri staggers behind, still holding onto Hobie's hand. “Just like Valentine, right?” Riri smiles, hiding her trepidation behind her bandana. He fixes the cloth over her face carefully, tugging it over her nose and ears. “Keep that snug.” She could only nod, eyes brimming with tears. “Don't die on us too, Ri.” With a quick embrace, she leaves, following behind Karl who was waiting for her.

Hobie takes a second to breathe. He has done things like this a hundred times before, but never with you on the line. He can't leave without you like last time. He won't cower behind wooden walls like last time, he's not gonna stand here and tremble and rot and bleed. He's going to get you back. He knows he will.

There's a gunshot echoing inside the estate just as when a glass window breaks, signaling the beginning of the end.

—

The house falls and chaos reigns. They tried to stick to their plan of using stealth, but of course someone saw them and alerted everyone in their presence. Karl got the oleander thrown inside the halls, puffs of pinkish fumes swell out from the bag. Hobie sees the result of it as black smoke turns the estate into the pits of hell. Hobie's eyes waters but he continues to strike anyone who wasn't on his side. He throws his spiked whip towards someone who tried to shoot at Karl, the barbed whip rakes and breaks skin as he tugs and pulls until the man falls down next to his shredded flesh.

Screams echo around the estate, his posse lets go of the innocent unarmed employees while the others aren't so lucky the second they aim back.

They try to fight their way inside, finally thinning the outlaws outside as flames trickle from the burning bag towards the velvet curtains. Embers climb up until they hit the ceiling, fire licking at the once white walls, leaving burn marks in its wake.

A few of the hired guns surrender after recognising Miguel's gang, some were fools who tried to shoot them down but his allies were in greater numbers. More experienced, more bloodthirsty than the hired guns.

All the winning cards are in his hand, all he needs to do is play them right.

“Miguel!” Hobie yells while he and three others try to push through the main doors that refuse to budge open.

Miguel, who was currently brawling with a man taller than him, grunts when a fists harshly connects at his jaw. Hobie curses under his breath, without wasting a second, he aims and shoots. Gunpowder fills his lungs once more as the burly man falls on top of Miguel in a thud.

Hobie stalks towards Miguel, he shoots someone who was aiming at him on his left, his bullet doesn't miss even without him looking at the target. He grabs the body by its vest, yanking it off Miguel.

“Get up,” he reaches for the breathless gang leader, hazel eyes smiling at his old friend.

“I had that, Hobie!” Despite his broken nose, Miguel is back on his feet the moment he takes Hobie's helping hand. “Retirement, huh?”

Hobie shakes his head with a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Fuckin' retirement.” Reloading his gun, he goes back to the locked doors with Miguel now in tow. “On three!” His shoulders meet with the oak, “one!” Miguel nods next to him, bracing himself on the door. “Two!” A few more join in, ready to push the moment he says, “three!”

The doors burst open, splintering wood scattering, smoke coming out into the fray. Hobie meets with Sheriff Lee's eyes before a bullet hits him directly on his shoulder.

“Fuck!” He falls on his knees, clutching his wound as blood seeps through his fingers.

“Should've left when you had the chance, Mr. Brown!” Lee taunts, reloading his hunting rifle, giving Miguel enough time to drag Hobie back outside and placed behind the wall. “Come back here, murderer!”

A few shots ring out, both parties exchanging bullets. Your face appears in front of him before it’s replaced by the doctor's face. He needs to get you out quickly before the oleander takes hold. Hands tie a bandana around his wound, Hobie stands up the second that the cloth is tightened.

“Keep that on!” Roberto yells above the booming gunfire. “I’ll fix you properly right after this!”

Hobie nods, blinking the haze away. Miguel shakes him awake while avoiding his injury. “Lee's down! We'll handle the rest down here, we heard that she's upstairs.”

“Okay,” Hobie inhales and exhales, I'm almost there, love.

When the bullets stop flying inside the now bullet ridden manor, he steps foot inside. Glass crunches at his feet, eyes darting and alert from any surprises. He sees bodies littered on the marble floors, both from his side and Lee's. The sheriff lays under a pile of broken vase, eyes wide open, fingers still enclosed around his gun. The smoke thickens, and he hears blasts reverberating around the house.

Miguel's posse storms the place, pocketing whatever shines inside the house. A few more bullets are shot from deep inside the walls, but it's clear who's the winner. Hobie just wants you back.

Just as when he's about to climb the winding stairs with his throbbing shoulder, he sees a man stagger out from a room. “Is that—?” The bloodied man in the hunting gear trips and falls off the railing, plunging down right next to where Hobie's standing.

Cross lays on his own puddle of rubies, a gaping hole in his stomach instead of his insides. “H-help me,” Begging, he looks at Hobie with his bloodshot eyes, reaching towards Hobie's leg with his broken hand. “She's upstairs. Y-you can have her.”

“Is that him?” Miguel asks, and Riri appears from the side. Eyes watching the wounded man. Hobie nods, eyes never leaving Cross.

Hobie aims at Cross' head, seething. “She is not a thing to be had.” His aim stays true, but he shakes his head, lowering his gun down. “Nah, I'll let her bullet kill you.”

Miguel smirks, while Riri and him have a silent communication. “Don't worry, Hobie, we got rich boy.” He takes out his lasso from his waist, crossing the distance towards the dying Cross.

Riri gestures for Hobie to continue up the stairs. “Go! We'll be waiting.”

With a grateful nod, Hobie runs up the stairs towards his fire and his light. His heavy footsteps echo, breathing staggered as he thinks of you. What if he finds you in the same condition as Cross? What would he do if he sees you bleeding out? So he runs despite his own injuries, to see you again, to hold you again.

He follows the blood trail once he gets close enough, instead of your smiling face greeting him back, he stares at your body covered in crimson. Soft blue bed sheets stained with dark rubies. Arms spread on the bed as you lay on the soft mattress with your eyes unblinking towards the ceiling.

Hobie calls for you, air sucked from his lungs with every step he takes. He reaches for you, tears turning you into a watercolor painting in his vision. Red and blues blending into a watery picture.

You feel like you're in the bottom of a well, staring up at your aunt's sneering face. Your breathing is labored while the bullet is stuck in your chest, right below your ribcage. There's no pain, no feeling in your fingers as you see Hobie's face appear from above. Head perfectly lined up with the deer antlers painted on the ceiling.

“Found the deer, Cross.” You murmur, eyes hazy, lips barely opening.

“Stay awake, love.” Hobie's hand trembles as he rips his bandana off to stave off the bleeding by plugging the wound. You cry from the sudden pain, hands flying towards his wrists. “‘m sorry, ‘m sorry.” His tears flow down your cheek. “This'll be over, I need to carry you.”

“Hobie?” Your eyes focus on his face, meeting with his viridescent eyes. “Are you real?” Nails dig into his flesh, you sob, fingers shaking whilst you reach for his face. The pads of your fingers brush along his jaw, stubble returning you back to reality. “I'm so s-sorry, I should've told you.”

“None of that.” He holds onto the back of your hand, letting your palm rest on his cheek, lips brushing along your wrist. The matching rings reflect the growing fire ebbing towards the room.

“It h-hurts, Hobie.”

Sniffing, burning wood enters his lungs, sobs threatening to pull him down to you. “I know, I know.” He wipes the tears and the sweat off your forehead. “But we need to move, love, there's a fire and I need to carry you down.”

You gaze at his green eyes, sorrow and grief twisting and turning behind them. They remind you of home, of Clover, of Cherry and Bucky. And you remember your promise to him, an impossible promise that you will try to keep. But if it means that it's his end too, you have to break it. For his sake.

You grip his shoulders, Hobie notices how weak your hold on him is. “Okay, okay, carry m-me down.” There's a taste of copper in your mouth, lips coated in the bitter taste.

He nods, wiping his tears with his sleeves before sliding his hand behind your back, finding your warm blood sticking to the bedsheets. “I got you.” Whispering against your crown, he lifts you up mere inches away from the bed before you scream in agony. “‘m sorry!” He cries into your hair, your grip weakening even more.

“W-we can try again.” You slide your palm to his nape, “try again, Hobie.”

Hobie flicks his eyes towards you, the light behind your eyes is starting to dim. “Help!” He yells in desperation at the door, in hopes that someone comes bounding up the stairs. “Riri! Miguel! Anyone!”

Your heart breaks, “Hobie, Hobs.” Patting his chest, it's getting harder to breathe. “L-leave. Leave me here.” Hobie's already shaking his head. You smile softly at him, the best you could do despite your body dying. “You have to, you can't die here.”

“And you do?” He cups your face, “we still have forever to go, remember?”

He doesn't want you to come back as a dream anymore, or a shadow embracing him from behind; or a pain in his chest when he hears your name in his mind. He doesn't want your ghostly kiss to taste like ashes on his lips.

He doesn't want you to go.

“I'm sorry, I can't keep my promise. B-but you still can.” You weakly push down at his nape to feel his forehead against yours one last time. Your eyes are starting to close. “Live for me, would you?”

“No, please.” His palm slides right above your heart, feeling your heartbeat slow down. One last time, he yells for help. His throat burns as the ceiling above is engulfed in flames. No one comes to help. “I have to break my promise too, love.”

“Don't, please.”

“A life lived without you isn't a life well lived, remember?”

You accept death in his warm embrace. “I'll see you in a bit then.”

Flames engulf the room in its fiery destruction. Paint melting off the walls, wood and glass cracking under the pressure. And yet, he still holds on to you, lips pressed on your cold lips in a fleeting goodbye.

“Hobie!”

—

In the middle of nowhere sits the remnants of a farm with clovers growing all around it. Vines snaking along what remains of the farm house, and in those vines, pink hydrangeas grow and thrive amidst the cinders. And behind those darkened wood sits two graves with clovers growing on top of the soil. Two names are etched on simple limestone graves, they bear the same last name and same date of death.

Many travelers pass through the place without ever knowing the story behind the two graves. Seasons come and go, flowers bloom and wither. But only a few ever knew what used to stand on the emerald farm. What used to grow, what colour the house was, and who used to live in it. Stories were whispered and told but only a few truly knew the story behind it, few who came and visited and placed flowers on each of the graves.

And in those few, only three of them know that the once abundant farm where two graves were dug right under an oak tree, are empty.

The stories and the graves were enough to fool anyone left that wants to hurt either one of you to turn back and lament.

The true story lies behind the northern border, where pine trees grow up to the skies. Where snow and ice envelops the whole place. Where the two names etched on the gravestones in the empty farm now live.

“Stop bullyin’ your brother.” The dappled foal yelps, trotting away from his much bigger older brother. The dark horse with white splotches turns his bright blue eyes towards Hobie, huffing and puffing like an annoyed teenager. “Don't huff at me,” great, now he's the one talking to horses. “Go tell your dad not to have any more kids. Not my problem, junior.” The young horse rears, running towards the barn where Buckeye and Cherry sleeps.

Hobie leans on the fence, watching the sunrise on his expansive land. Horses and foals run around freely, feeling the cold gust of wind in their manes. A few sheep roam the grounds, while a pair of cows chew their way towards the fences. Snow-capped mountains rise up high in the background, white snow dusted along the rocks like sugar. While the trees dotted along the mountainside makes for the perfect scenic view. He pulls at his jacket closer to himself, fur tickling his nose as he breathes out puffs of smoke from the cold temperature. Winter’s coming, he can feel it in his joints as another breeze rolls in. He smiles in contentment when the air carries the sound of ducks quacking from their coop, and the smell of morning dew passing by. No more does the smell of fiery gunpowder graze his senses, and no sounds of bullets firing ringing in his ears.

He keeps his hat snug on his head, Clover runs by with her litter of puppies tugging along. And he feels you before you arrive by his side. A smile tugs on his lips, hand already reaching for your waist.

“What are you thinking about, cowboy?” You flutter your eyelashes, chin placed in his shoulder.

“That I have it good, too good.”

You give him a tender smile, leaning to kiss his jaw. “None of that. This isn't too good for you, you deserve all of this.”

“Too early to wallow, huh?” Hobie wraps his arm around your waist to pull you closer, and then he twists around to face you fully, back leaning on the fence, admiring you in the bitter blue of dawn.

You find penchants on his sternum, nose nuzzling his scar. “So fucking early.” He laughs, music to your ears.

“Hard to get used to, huh?”

“Kind of, it's a good feeling though, waking up.”

“You feel okay, right?” His palm pats your chest gently where a scar lies. “No breathlessness? Nothin'?”

You sniff at the cool wind, “nothing, I'm fine, Hobie.” You cup his cheek, jaw rounded at the edges, scruff tickling you, he looks as if time hasn't passed. “Nothing to worry about.” He leans towards your touch, fingers bracelet around your wrist gently, lips meeting your skin. “You okay?”

“Never better, love.” His green eyes twinkle, free arm pulling you impossibly closer. “Especially today.”

You tilt your head playfully. “What's today exactly?”

“Cheeky,” he pokes your side. “You know what day it is.”

You feign realization. “Ah! I remember now, Riri and the gang are coming over.”

“Yes, and?” He grins, biting his lower lip, jade eyes crinkling at the corners. Seeing the matching rings on your finger and his own makes him smile wider.

You suck in your teeth, acting like you're thinking. “It's Bucky's birthday?” Hobie rolls his eyes with a chuckle, and you finally relent. “I know what day it is.” You lean away, taking out a letter addressed to Hobie from your pocket. It's filled with affectionate words, loving thoughts and everything in between. It's a love letter just for him. “Happy anniversary, Hobs.”

Hobie's chest fills with a sense of belonging, heart full with his love for you. He keeps the letter in his coat pocket, right above his heart. “Happy anniversary, lovie.” He pulls you back, you giggle as your palm hits his chest, fingers snaking up to his nape to guide him towards your waiting lips.

“Forgot something, cowboy?” You say against his lips, and he nudges your nose with his own.

You feel something grazing against your chin, and when you flick your eyes down, you see a letter written in his hand, addressed to you. You tamp down your excitement, snatching the envelope, giving it a peck and tucking it inside your jean pocket.

“Never, read it together like always?” He pecks your warm lips once, then twice before indulging himself in your warmth.

“Yes,” you utter, breathlessly. “But inside, your tea, and the girls are waiting.”

Hobie chortles, kissing you again before reluctantly pulling away. “They're awake?”

“They smelt breakfast.” You inhale, letting his sandalwood and mint scent waft over you with ease. “If you hurry, there might still be some left for you.” You begin to walk away, hand grasping his palm.

“Alright, just one more then we'll go.” He pulls you back to his chest gently as you giggle atop his lips. He kisses you like he did all those years ago.

In the middle of nowhere, his story begins. And in the middle of nowhere, his story ends with you.

A/N: Thank you so much for sticking around this long! Our beloved cowboy is finally happy and at peace 🥺 If you loved reading OPIN please consider reblogging ❤️

[scribblesofagoonerr]

For what it's worth, I'm sorry and I don't really hate you | Inner Demons

⟫ Alphabet Challenge, F - For what it's worth, I'm sorry and I don't really hate you

Pairings: leah williamson x teen reader, arsenal wfc x teen reader

Hello, I'm back with part 6. Sorry it's been a bit of a wait, life gets in the way and makes it hard to write, but here's the next part. I honestly don't know how many chapters this will have because I'm really enjoying writing it, so hey ho, I might even just make this one small fic series of many ideas' I currently have in my head :)

I don't know if this chapter does make much sense at all and non of it's been proof read again, so it could be a bit all over the place but please let me know what you think!

Thank you for all the ongoing support so far, it's overwhelming to see how much that you all love this, and it gives me motivation to continue to write!

My asks are open for anyone to drop me an any ideas' on this fic or anything else that people would like to see be written, however, I am only comfortable writing anything platonic though :)

You're progressing well to get better and you're slowly returning to usual happy, self chaotic self.

TW: angst and mentions of SH, MH, suicide and death.

"So, what's the food in this place like then?" Kyra broke the silence in the room, where all the girls were all crowded in as they came to visit you in the pysch ward of the hospital during the visiting hours.

It had been 46 hours since you had been detained, 46 hours since you all but shouted at Leah that you hated her.

You really did regret it.

You didn't actually mean that though, and you had been feeling terrible about it ever since the words escaped your mouth.

"Seriously, Kyra?" Steph stares at the younger Australian in disbelief.

"What? I'm just trying to make conversation here" Kyra replies, shrugging her shoulders.

Caitlin can't help but snort. "And you decide to start with asking what the foods' like?" she teases the twenty-one-year-old.

"Yeah, cos' I've heard that hopsital food is disgusting and all" Kyra remarks to the older girl, sticking her tongue out at her.

"Very mature" Steph rolls her eyes at the two of them.

"So, what is the food like then?" Vic asks, peeking interest to know the answer.

"Terrible, I think that even Leahs' cooking might be better than what they're serving on the menu here" You can't help but grin cheekily.

"Ouch it must be bad then" Beth joins in with the joke.

"You'd better not let her hear you say outloud or I think she'd been offended" Viv tells you as she can't help but smile slightly, just happy to see you slowly returning to your old self.

"So, she didn't come with you guys then?" You ask as you pull at the sleeves of the hoodie you currently had on.

You don't miss the look that all the girls share with one another. You weren't an idiot to know something was going on.

"Just tell me what's going on" You stare at them all, trying to get an answer out of them.

"She's outside in the waiting room with Lia" Jen admits, exhaling a sigh.

"Oh" Your smile falters at the disappointing news.

"She wanted to come in with us Y/N but it was hard for her" Beth explains on behlf of the blonde, who you miss terribley. "I'm sure when she's ready, she'll come and see you" she adds, trying to keep the hope alive.

You really had messed up with what you said, you doubt that she would want to visit you, nor would she want you to come back to the flat where you lived with her.

"Oh uh, well then that's okay I guess, I mean I don't blame her for not coming cos' what I said was horrible and stuff" You make up an excuse as you find sudden interest with the floor beneath you.

"It's not your fault for being angry, Y/N" Katie pats you on the shoulder.

"How're you feeling now?" Alessia asks, concerned as a way to try and change the subject.

"Is this your way of subtly asking me if I'm going to try and attempt to kill myself again?" You glance around at all of the girls' faces in the room.

"Y/N" Kim shoots you a disapproving look.

"The answers no by the way" You mumble quietly.

"Y/N" Kim repeats again, a bit louder.

"What? You know I like to make dark humour jokes in this type of situation. It's just a coping mechanism" You tell your captain as you hold your hands up in mock-surrender, who continues to look at you with a certain look that makes you back down straightaway. "Alright, okay, I'll tone it down with the death jokes" You mumble, slouching further down in your seat.

"How's she been doing?" Leah stands in the reception area of the hospital and fumbles with her hands, as she speaks to one of the doctors.

"Y/N has making good progress. I think another day or so and she'll be ready to come home" The doctor explains with a kind smile.

"That's great news" Lia says, smiling as she glances at the blonde for her reaction.

Leahs' eyes widen in surprise and smiles slightly. "Yeah, that's good to hear. I'm proud of her making so much progress in such a short space of time" she tells the doctor.

"It is, Y/N/N has really thrown herself into trying to get better, the therapy sessions seem to be going well too" The doctor tells them honestly. "Are you going to go and see her? I'm sure that she'd love to see you" she adds.

The blondes feels apprehensive, her eyes dart over in the direction of where the doors led to the psych ward, where you would be with the rest of the girls that had all visited.

Leah had wanted to as well, she just couldn't find the courage to actually take the steps and dipped out at the last minute.

"I hate you, Leah" The words that you shouted at her, played in her head on a constant loop.

"Uh, I don't know about that. I'm not sure if she's going to want to see me" Leah confesses, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"Le, you don't know that" Lia squeezes the blondes' shoulder gently as she tries to reassure her.

"I know that she hates me, Wally. You heard what she said before" Leah replies quietly, shaking her head as she takes another glance towards the doors.

"You know that she didn't mean that, Le. You know she is just a kid with a lot of feelings sometimes" Lia tells the blonde, smiling at her.

Leah looks a bit more apprehensive as she shakes her head. "There was so much hatred in her voice when she said, it felt like she did mean it" she disagrees with her.

"She was angry the other day though, Le and you even said that yourself" Lia reminds the younger girl.

Leah hums as she bites her bottom lip "But what if she doesn't want to see me? I know she's going to be angry with me for leaving her here in this place" she admits to the older girl.

"She's been asking for you every day since she has been here" The doctor pipes in, gently smiling at the two girls.

"Really?" Leah asks, blinking in slight surprise.

"Yes, Y/N has told me about the visits from all of the girls but the only person she mentioned that she actually wants to see is you, Leah" The doctor tells the blonde.

"See?" Lia smiles at Leah and sqeeuzes her shoulder. "I told you that I don't think Y/N could ever hate you or be angry, you know that, Le" she insists.

"I know" Leah bites her bottom lip anxiously, taking another glance at the door ahead. "I just can't help but feel horrible for making the decision and I'm weary incase she resents me for it" she admits, quietly.

The doctor frowns at them both. "I know it must have been hard to be the one to make that call but it was for the right one to give her the best possible chance to get better" They explain.

"You shouldn't be blaming yourself for this, Le. It's what was needed" Lia repeats the doctors words, so to speak.

"Yeah, yeah I know" Leah admits, pulling at the sleeves of her hoodie that she had on.

"You're nervous to see her?" The doctor asks, making the brief observation.

Leah can't help but snort slightly. "That obvious?" she jokes.

"I've been in this job for a while now, it's easy enough to pick up on things like this" The doctor chuckles amusedly. "Regardless of what may have been said, I have a feeling that Y/N will be happy enough to see you" They add in.

"SNAP" You scream loudly as you slam your hand down on the deck of cards that are on the table. "HA! I win!" You cheer in glee.

Kyra let's out a irritated huff while she glares at you. "Why are you so vicious with this game?" she asks.

"I want to win" You smirk and stick your tongue out at her, pulling the deck of cards towards you.

"Kyra, you're literally losing a child" Vic chips in, watching the game amusedly.

"Said child is a menace" Kyra mumbles as she pouts.

"Sucks to be a loser" You can't help but quip as you reshuffle the deck of cards in your hand.

"Room for a couple more visitors?" Leah pokes her head round the door and braces herself for your initial reaction to seeing her.

"LE!" You dart up from your seat and run to the blonde, abandoning the game of cards completely.

All feelings of anger had been swept aside as you were just happy to see her in the room. You thought you'd blown it when you told her that you hated her.

"Hi bubs" Leah instantly embraces you in her arms and kisses the top of your hair. "I've missed you, Y/N/N. I'm so sorry I haven't been to visit you" she apologises.

"S' okay, you're here now" You mumble, burying her head in her chest as you refuse to let go off her.

"Oi I'm here too, you know" Lia jokes playfully, knowing that you would want that moment with just the blonde.

"Yeah, yeah. Hi Wally" You grin cheekily at the older girl before you turn back towards the older blonde girl. "I'm sorry for what I said cos' I didn't mean what I said about hating you, I was angry and upset and I really don't hate you I promise!" You tell her honestly.

"It's okay bubs, I know you were upset and didn't mean it" Leah smiles as she squeezes you a bit more tighter than before, being careful in case she caught any of your bandages on your arms.

Moving to sit down on the now vacant chair, Leah plonks you down on her lap as she keeps her arms wrapped around you tightly since it was apparent you weren't going to let go any time soon but she was okay with how clingy you was after she hadn't seen you in a few days.

"Whats' been going on here then?" Lia looks towards the game that was previously being played.

"We were playing cards, but Kyras' being proper salty because she's loosing now" You grin, sticking your tongue out at the Australian girl.

"How do you even loose at that game?" Steph wonders.

"I didn't know you could even loose at snap" Beth chuckles, amusedly.

"Apparently so" Jen jokes, joining in with the two of them.

Leah can't help but laugh amusedly as she runs her fingers through your hair. "The doctor said that you're making good progress" she tells you.

"Mhm" You mumble, resting your head on her shoulder.

"That's good news!" Vic overhears the conversation as she smiles at you.

"Yeah, that means you'll be able to come home soon enough" Alessia pipes in.

Katie can't help but scoff. "She should've never been here in the first place" she sneers in the direction where Leah is sat.

"Katie" Kim glares at the Irish girl.

"What? It's true!" Katie exclaims in outrage, not backing down from glaring at the blonde. "You and I both know it, we all do! She should've never been here, she should have been at home with people that care about her" she insists.

"It's what was best for her" Leah fires back just as quick.

"Was it?" Katie scowls at her.

"Can you guys please not talk about me like I'm not in the room?" You huff and glance between the two older girls.

"Sorry kid" Katie apologises.

"Sorry bubs" Leah apologises.

"Hey, Y/N/N, it'll be good that you're getting out of hospital soon enough now" Kyra slyly grins at you, looking forward to the pair of you being able to cause mischief in no time.

"Yeah, partners in crime reunited again" You grin at the Aussie girl.

"No, no! Absolutely not!" Steph protests, shaking her head. "It took me at least a week to get the ketchup of the ceiling after the last stunt that you two idiots pulled" She adds.

"I don't know what you're talking about" You try to act innocent as you slyly smirk at Kyra.

"Oh, really? So the baking soda just happened to find it's way inside the ketchup bottle, did it?" Steph narrows her eyes' in the direction of the two of you.

"Maybe" Kyra can't help the shit eating grin on her face.

"I know that look, the pair of you are definitely going to be up to no good" Viv shakes her head.

Jen chuckles in amusement. "You two willl definitely be under a careful watch now incase the next prank gets out of hand" She notes.

"Sure, cos' I'm not going to already be watched like a hawk now anyways, right?" You remark sarcastically, peering up at the older blonde.

"What do you think?" Leah replies back, raising one of her eyebrows.

"You can relax, Le. I'm not going to attempt to kill myself again any time soon" You joke, not realising that now probably isn't the best time to make any type of comment like that.

"Y/N" Kim and Leah both scold you at the same time.

You huff when you realise the pair of them are already ganging up on you and remember that being the baby of the team definitely sucks sometimes.

"What? I'm just saying, I'm not gonna, well unless Leah attempts to try and cook dinner again then it's an easy way out-- Ow! What the fuck?" You continue to make jokes about the situation at hand, jolting in shock when you feel a light pinch on your thigh from said blonde you are sat on.

"Language" Leah states sternly, giving you one of her famous glares.

"That was mean of you to do that! Too soon to make jokes about it then?" You pout and rub your thigh to try and relieve some of the pain. "Yep got it" You add, smiling innocently at the blonde.

"So, I thought you weren't going to come in because it was hard for you?" Katie scoffs at the blonde, deciding to bring the subject up now that you were out of the room, having gone to grab a drink with Jen, Steph and Beth.

"Katie" Viv glances at Katie and exhales a sigh.

"It has been hard Katie" Leah admits, biting her bottom lip.

Katie scoffs again. "Oh? I'm sorry, I'm sure it must have been so hard for you, Leah" she deadpans.

"You don't know how hard it has been, Katie!" Leah shouts loud around the room, attracting a few looks in her direction.

"Wonderful" Steph speaks up first, exhaling a sigh.

"Not again" Beth mumbles, shaking her head.

"They're fighting again, aren't they?" You huff as you walk back towards the room with Jen as you can hear the raised voices from the two girls, who weren't seeing eye to eye now

"I think so" Jen agrees.

"Fantastic" You mumble, slowly walking back into the room.

"Oh? And how do you think it's been for Y/N/N? You made the decision to keep her in here!" Katie continues to argue with the blonde, not afraid to be open about her feelings. "You haven't even visited her once while she's been here" she adds.

The Irish girl really hadn't been happy with the whole decision that had been made but there was nothing that she could do herself to stop it from happening.

It had left a tense atmosphere between the two girls and they'd shared a few cross words ever since.

"It wasn't my choice Katie!" Leah insists, continuing to argue with the fiesty Irish girl.

Katie couldn't help but scoff and roll her eyes. "Sure, but you could have said something to stop it!" she fires back at the blonde, not willing to back down from the argument just yet.

"Girls lets' not do this here" Kim looks between the two of them as she notices you walk back into the room with the older girls.

"Katie, come on, just leave it" Caitlin takes a hold of the girls' hand to try and calm her down.

However, neither of the girls were willing to back down just yet.

They were both just as stubborn as one another sometimes.

"The doctors thought it was best since Y/N/N--" Leahs' words were cut off by you, walking in right at that moment.

"Tried to kill myself, I tried to end my life, and it would have worked if Leah hadn't ran in and stopped me, so everyone thinks keeping me locked up in here it will help to keep me safe"

The room is suddenly so silent that you could hear a pin drop.

Whoops?

"Hey, at least the therapy is somehow helping to help me express my feelings now. Yay" You deadpan, plonking yourself back down on Leahs' lap as you rip open the packet of Haribo Tangfastics you had brought from the hospital shop. "So, does anyone want a sweet?" You offer, like you hadn't just said what you did.

[billybob598]

Secret Recipe (Lucy Bronze x Reader)

Another fic LFG!!!!!! This was requested by the anon who asked for a Lucy x Secret wife chef reader. Hope this is what you wanted! Got a Katie McCabe fic next. As always, any feedback good or bad welcomed! Enjoy!

Word Count: 1.3K (LFG!!!!)

For years now whenever Lucy came to camp she would have lots of packed lunches to fend off her hunger. The girls sometimes gave her a hard time about it, but for the most part, they don’t think too much about it most of the time. That is until one day Keira missed the served lunch due to a meeting. Keira was really starting to get hungry, but all the food was gone and they had training again soon so it’s not like she could make a quick sandwich or something. Then, Lucy became Keira’s saviour when she shoved a brown paper bag at her. At first, Keira was confused, but then it dawned on her that it was the same type of bag that Lucy always brought her packed lunches in. She gratefully grabbed the bag mumbling out a thanks before eagerly ripped open the bag. The team had never seen Keira so excited about food before. It was a mixture of her own hunger and curiosity as to what was in the bag that fueled Keira as she devoured the contents of the bag. In the bag, there was a container of what Lucy called burrito bowl. After each bite, Keira would let out a satisfied sound, a sound that had all the other girls giggling at her. She was too in love with the food to care. 

“If you were eating this right now, you’d be making these noises too,” she tries to defend herself as everyone keeps laughing. 

“Is it good?” Georgia asks.

“Unbelievably good,” Keria says, shovelling more food into her mouth.

“Wait, wait how is it really good? Lucy sucks at cooking,” Lucy goes to protest, but Millie keeps on talking, “Don’t even deny it Luce, there’s no way you could make something Keira likes that much.” 

For the rest of camp, Lucy gets bombarded with questions on how she’s getting these packed lunches. The team just cannot seem to figure it out.

“Maybe she buys them?”

“No, no they’re definitely not bought, she brings them in like plastic containers.”

“What if she gets her mum to make them?”

“Nope, her mum lives too far away for that.”

“What if she’s got like a deal with a mob boss, so they make her lunch in exchange for her to keep her mouth shut.”

Everyone really seems to like the last idea Rachael suggested. Lucy just rolls her eyes at their silliness. 

“Well, you’re all wrong. What if I actually do make them all by myself?” She remarks. Everyone makes disbelieving noises.

“There’s absolutely no way you can make food that good and that often,” Georgia says. Lucy did have to concede that one, it was a well-known fact that Lucy could make a decent meal every once and a while, but every day? No way. 

On the last night of camp, Lucy decides to Facetime you, she had told you about the incident, and you actually found it really hilarious. As she was telling you about their latest ideas you can’t help but let out a little snort,

“They think you have a deal with the mafia?” You say while trying to hold back your laughter.

“Yep, they’re so dumb. And also, do I really seem like someone involved with the mafia?” 

“I mean, you do kinda give off those vibes, love.” The look of betrayal on Lucy’s face has you in stitches. 

“You better stop laughing Y/N. I would hate for you to be offed by a mob boss,” she says with a grin. 

You guys continue to talk for a bit when you ask her about something that had been nagging you for a bit.

“Why don’t you just tell them about us?” The question was very out of the blue so, it caught Lucy off guard. 

“What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you just tell them that you’re married and that your wife makes your lunches and everything? Why keep it a secret anymore? They’re going to figure it out soon.” You weren’t mad at her, you were just curious as to why she never wanted to tell the team about you guys.

“I don’t know babe. It’s just easier. Plus, if I told them about you, they’d definitely want to meet you,” she sighs. 

“I’d love to meet them.”

“I’m not sure if you would, they can be very…overbearing,” Lucy warns you.

“Come on Luce. I spend like twelve hours a day overlooking a kitchen and dealing with other peoples’ problems as if I’m their mom. I’m sure I can handle twenty footballers,” you say confidently.

“Okay, then. How about I invite them over for dinner in a couple of days? I’m sure they’d love for you to cook for them,” Luce suggests. You nod happily, excited at the prospect of finally meeting all of Lucy’s friends. 

When Lucy invites the team over the next day she gets a lot of excited murmurs and questions on whether she was cooking or not. She’s seen the girls loud, but it was something else when she told them that her wife would be cooking. After announcing that, she very swiftly made her exit.

As the first Lionesses make their way inside you and Lucy’s house, they can’t believe all the pictures of you and her.

“This is her, right?” Lotte says as she points at a photo of you and Lucy on your wedding day.

“Yup, that’s Y/N,” Lucy says with a proud smile.

“She’s really pretty.” Everyone snickers at the glare Lucy gives to Lotte. “Is she in the kitchen?” Lucy nods and shows them the way. 

You look up when you hear loud voices carry into the kitchen. Wiping your hands off, you make your way around the island to meet everybody.

“This is Y/N, my wife,” Lucy introduces you. You hear a chorus of “Hi Y/N”s. You give them all a warm smile before they start banging out questions,

“So you guys are married?”

“How long have you been married?”

“Why didn’t we know about you sooner?”

“Are you actually a cook?”

“Do you own a restaurant?”

“What’s your favourite dish to make?”

So, you make all of Lucy’s lunches then?”

You are a bit surprised, but you compose yourself and answer all their questions,

“Yup, we’re married and have been for five years now. After we got married we just thought it easier to keep it on the down-low so we could focus on our careers. I am actually a chef, and I run Midsummer House which has two Michelin stars and is in Cambridge. At the restaurant we always make lots of fancy dishes, but sometimes I just like making pepperoni pizza. Yes, I make all of Lucy’s lunches for camp.”

As the night progresses, you can understand why Lucy likes going to national team camp so much, everyone is extremely kind to you and there is lots of banter and telling stories that you haven’t heard yet. You get a number of compliments on the food you had prepared for dinner. Rachael starts complaining about how it’s unfair that only Lucy gets your packed lunches. You laugh stating that something could be arranged for the team. This gets everyone very excited and makes it a little harder to get everyone out of the house after. All in all, it was a pretty successful first time meeting the Lionesses. As you clean up the dishes, you feel someone’s arms wrap around you from behind.

“Everything was delicious, love,” Lucy whispers into your ear.

“You liked it? It was a new recipe,” you reply, still washing some things.

“Mhm, it was very good,” you turn around in her arms and give her a kiss. She sighs into the kiss before pulling away and helping with the clean up.

The next camp, everyone is ecstatic when you show up to St. George’s Park with twenty-three packed lunches and a big smile.

[puckpocketed]

X

behold. a sampler of some Carbery + Warsofsky media prior to the Sharks @ Caps game, December 3rd 2024. May Carolina Reunions continue feeding us narratives for years to come <3

editor's note: for the sake of relevance and brevity I have omitted big chunks regarding their esteemed third Jared Bednar, but you can read all about their coaching lineage here -> this also serves as THEE source text for all three. transcripts were done by me unless otherwise indicated so any mistakes are mine!

Spencer Carbery, Jared Bednar, and Ryan Warsofsky all attend South Carolina Stingrays Fan Fest - by Chris Cerullo (link)

(link)

Carbery media following practice - December 2nd, 2024 [7:30 - 8:36] (link)

When you look at the Sharks where do you see the impact your buddy Ryan has had on the way they've kind of come along here in the last month or so?

Carbery: [They] compete their butts off, continue to get better, um. (pause) And you just know you're gonna get a really really hard working competitive team tomorrow night. So I'm not surprised that they started - what were they, 0 and 9? 0 and 8?

0-7-2 or something like that.

Carbery: Yeah, so now they're - I think I ran the numbers this morning - 9-6 and 1 maybe, since then. Yeah. So there you go. That's not a surprise to me, 'cause I (pause, smile) know him very well and y'know it doesn't matter what - you know what you're gonna get from a [Warsofsky team], they're gonna push us tomorrow night I can guarantee you that.

editor's note: he actually said "warkin" ??? and I've chosen to read the context clues. And for joke purposes my esteemed colleagues have decided he sees Warso's Sharks as pikmin <3

Is he gonna give you something [inaudible] you prepared for [inaudible] some kind of surprise from him of some sort?

(smiling) Oh, I know it. Every time we play a Warsofsky team he's gonna do something - one thing off the wall. I'm planning for it. Something will be totally off-script, that'll be different from the pre-scout that we show.

some important context: Carbery and Warsofsky coached against each other in the AHL - from that first linked article:

“The day before we might chat,” Carbery said. “But once the game gets going -- and I coached against [Warsofsky] in the American Hockey League a bunch in Charlotte -- it’s game on.” How competitive does it get? Warsofsky admitted he changed Charlotte’s neutral-zone forecheck for one game against Hershey to give Carbery and his players a different look from what they saw on their pre-scout video. “I always try to throw a little wrinkle at ‘Carbs,’” Warsofsky said.

Carbery media following morning skate - December 3rd, 2024 [2:25 - 2:57] (link)

[You're] familiar with the coach on the other side, another game where you - maybe there's a little extra motivation for you?

Carbery: (smiling slowly) Yeah.

(everyone laughs)

Carbery: Yeah, any time Wars' - who I've gotten to know really well over our time that we spent together in... (pause, implying Carolina?) developing our friendship he's an ultra-competitive guy, so any time you can stick it to him is a, uh... (long pause while people laugh, nodding and smiling) It's a good day.

Ryan Warsofsky's introductory press conference - June 21st, 2024 [21:30 - 21:45] (link)

Warsofsky: Spencer Carbery, like I mentioned, I worked for him for three years. [He's] head coach in Washington right now. He's the man that molded me into the coach I am, so I need to thank Spence. He's one of my best friends. He's had a huge impact on my coaching career and I can't thank him enough.

Spencer Carbery and Ryan Warsofsky set for first meeting as NHL head coaches - by Katie Adler (link)

[pumpk1n-writes]

Tell Me About The Dark Places You Hide ~ Part Four

➥ in which the reader figures out that their best friends are the infamous Woodsboro Killers and decides to help them rather than turn them in. {ft. Mentions of murder; language; stalking; smut (in this chapter); whiny Billy; knife play (ish); bondage; hand job; use of darling, princess, babe, baby boy; aftercare}

Part Three; Part Five || Word Count ~ 1.1k {finally broke 1k!! Hopefully I’ll be able to keep up with the rest of the parts!!}

Taglist ~ @wasawattpadkid @itzlovelyautumn @katie-tibo

The media you consume is your own responsibility and I will not be held accountable for your choices. I’m not going to block minors from this account, but proceed with caution anyway.

The mask lay discarded somewhere behind you. You’d tied Billy onto the dining room chair and both his and your knives were set carefully on the counter next to you. Your shorts kept riding up your thighs and your cropped shirt showed just enough tantalizing skin to make Billy wonder why the plan was to kill you rather than try and seduce you.

“What are you doing, Princess?” Billy asked. He thought he did a good job hiding the quiver in his voice until you laughed and patted his arm.

“There’ll be no more of that, babe. At least not until you know me better,” you winked at him. “As for what I’m doing to you, it’s all up to you. If you cooperate, it’ll be better for both of us. I won’t have to gut you and stab me and I won’t have to pull a frightened little girl act out of my ass for the cops to believe me.”

“And if I do cooperate?” Billy shifted his thighs uncomfortably, ashamed of the growing hardness there. He never knew he was apparently into bondage and knife play but if this is what it took to figure it out, hopefully it plays out the way he was currently picturing.

Your gaze shifted downwards and Billy realized that his uncomfortable movements hadn’t gone unnoticed. Your eyes shot back up to meet his, but he saw no shame, instead they were filled with the mischievous look he saw in Stu night after night. “Well that depends entirely on you, Loomis. What would you like me to do?”

Billy didn’t say anything, only staring into the depths of your eyes and hoping you didn’t make him beg.

“What do you desire me do to you, Billy?” You said his name with a strange mixture of contempt and arousal, and it only served to turn him on even more. “Use your words, baby boy.”

Billy barely trusted himself to speak without sounding desperate, but if that’s what it took for you to finally fucking touch him. “Please, princess, touch me,” he breathed, voice low and raw.

“Oh, Billy, Billy, Billy, you don’t get to make demands right now,” you laughed, dancing around, his knife in your hand. You reminded him heavily of someone who belonged in an asylum, with the way you handled the knife and the insane laughter that escaped so freely out of you. Add that to how different you seemed in front of others, and you had a combustible formula that was sure to go down in flames.

“What do you want?” Billy managed to bite out. He was so hard it neared the threshold of pain now, and your repeated action of dragging the knife over his cheekbone wasn’t helping.

“I want in,” you said it so matter-of-factly that it took a moment for your words to fight through the haze of arousal clouding his mind. “Whatever you and Stu are planning, I think it needs a lady’s touch, and I want in.”

Billy nodded, dropping his head and breathing heavily. “Yeah. Yes! Fuck, whatever you want, please.”

“Excellent!” You clapped your hands. “Now I’d say you’ve been particularly cooperative, and you seem so needy sitting there, I’d be evil not to do anything about it!”

Billy nodded along, not really paying attention to what he was agreeing to but just hoping you’d start doing something soon.

Slowly, ever so slowly, you removed his Ghostface cloak and slid his pants down to his boots. His fully erect cock sprang out against his toned stomach and the tip was angry and red. Billy hissed as he made contact with the cold air, his head hanging backwards, leaving his neck exposed.

He startled as you dragged the knife over the veins in his throat, whimpering as your fingers trailed a featherlight, barely-there path down his chest. As soon as your fingertips brushed the tip of his cock, he jerked his hips up into you hand, moaning embarrassingly loud.

“Oh, my darling baby boy,” you smirked, leaning in to bite his earlobe. “So sensitive.”

And that was the last warning he got before your hand was fully wrapped around his cock, thumb periodically swiping over the tip. Billy’s hands strained against the ropes. He wanted to grip your waist, longed to feel your hair under his fingers, shower you with the same pleasure you were giving him. He whimpered against your shoulder, leaning in to bite the base of your neck.

“Let me touch you, princess, please,” Billy whined. “Let me make you feel good.”

Your lips ghosted over his. “Not today, baby boy. Tonight it’s your turn.”

In an act of boldness, Billy captured your lips with his own, drawing you in for a desperate kiss. He bit your bottom lip, exploring your mouth. Until the pace you’d set with your hand increased and he groaned, his head dropping back and mouth falling open.

“Let it go, darling. Let it go.”

That was all the encouragement Billy needed to come undone in your hand. He moaned and whined as you stroked him through it, waves of pleasure wracking through his body.

Billy opened his eyes after a few minutes to see you carefully and tenderly washing him off with a damp towel, having untied him already. He realized he was laying down in the couch and wondered if he’d passed out. Shortly after that thought had shot through his mind his cheeks reddened in embarrassment as he realized he’d come so hard in your hand he had blacked out.

“Can you stand?” You asked, helping him sit up. He waved your helpful arm away, despite his gratitude. He wasn’t used to being taken care of after sex, and he had to admit, letting go of control and letting you take the lead had led him to the biggest orgasm of his entire life.

He stood up without an issue, and quickly gathered his clothes, getting dressed without a word. You saw the look on his face and didn’t attempt to start a conversation, instead sitting in the couch where he’d been and watching him leave.

School tomorrow would be awkward.

[brighter-by-the-daly]

Ruesha Littlejohn x Reader

You Ruined Love for Me

Part of the Beth McCarthy mini song series

If You Loved Me Right

If you didn't lie to me

Tell me you'd die for me

Break every promise

If you were honest

I wouldn't be crazy

If you didn't call me names

If you didn't try to change

Every part of me

Every part of me you hate, I

Know that if you loved me right

I wouldn't be crazy

On the plane to Australia you were catching up with the latest Ruetube, they always make you laugh and couldn’t wait to see if you had made this week’s cut. Midway through, you could tell your bestie wasn’t her usual happy and crazy self; she seemed distant and the sparkle in her eyes had faded. Always the light of the party and the clown of the locker room Ruesha had the power to make anyone belly laugh their way into next week. You could be having the worst day of your life but could guarantee Rue would change that with a single sentence. You never had to tell her you were having a bad day, she could always just sense it and would do everything she could to try and cheer you up. She was everyone’s pick-me-up and none of you had noticed how sad she truly was lately. She’d been painting on a brave face every day of training but the camera doesn’t lie - the despair in her eyes was undeniable. That’s why watching her online made you feel so guilty, you knew she was going through a tough time with the break up and being released from Villa but missed the sadness behind the mask she paints on every single day.

Looking behind to spot Rue a few rows back as she made her way through the aisle pretending to be an air hostess, singing Busted as she went, most would be fooled to think she was truly happy. You knew how much she had been worrying that she wouldn’t make the squad. You knew her break up with Katie was messy and that she didn’t get a choice about leaving Villa. Everything she’d known for years had gone. Disappeared. Her life had been turned upside down and you just hadn’t noticed how much it had taken a toll on her until you watched it back on the laptop. She may be laughing and joking behind you but it’s all pretend.

“Oh hello madam, may I offer you a refreshing beverage?” Rue tapped on your shoulder sounding exactly like Mrs Doubtfire. Entertaining her efforts as she served your drink but ignored Katie who was in the row opposite - you can hardly blame her! Everything had come at such a shit time for her and when she finally slumped back down in her seat, it didn’t take her long to put on her headphones and pull the hoodie over her eyes. Unable to watch her combust any longer you made yourself known by dropping hard into the empty seat next to her. She’d purposely stationed herself in the empty back row, moving from the seat in front of Katie before take off. Nudging her hood back to spy who had invaded her space to see it was you and immediately forced a smile back on to her face. “Wanna watch a movie?” your voice perky, “I’m not really in the mood (y/n/n)” your friend grumbled behind the jumper covering her mouth. “Okay..” thinking of another approach, “I have cards? Entertain an old lady would ya?” nudging her gently as she laughed a little at your statement. “I’m older than you ya cheeky hen, whats that make me?!” snatching the cards out of your hand to shuffle them.

A few games in, Rue finally took the bait and started talking. Just as you expected, life had just got a bit too much for her lately and putting on a front had become tiring. Determined to not let her be sad the entire tournament and knowing you were underdogs with this being Ireland’s first time at a World Cup, she should be enjoying it. So you decided to make it your mission to drag her through the shit and into the light so she could fully appreciate her first time in Australia and at a major tournament, knowing it would most likely be her last chance too. “I’m so glad you made it mate, I couldn’t imagine doing this without you” trying your best to make sure she knows how much the team love her. “Very nearly didn’t come, didn’t know if I could face that for weeks” gesturing towards Katie with her eyes. “But Shebhan convinced me, said I would never forgive myself if I stayed home” her eyes never faltered from the cards in her hand. “Well I’m glad I’ve got my best friend here” nudging her shoulder as you slapped down the winning card. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? Sometimes the person who makes sure everyone’s okay needs someone to ensure she’s okay?” Rue nodded as she as shared out the cards again. Playing non stop for a few hours she shared her worries of not knowing how she’s going to cope being stuck with Katie for so long, at home she can escape but here she’s got to see her ex every single day. She was also hoping to be picked up before coming away but nobody had enquired about her and made the prospect of retiring suddenly more real. She didn’t know what she would do next but you told her you would pay a hell of a lot of money to hear her commentating and you’re sure others would too!

Once you’d arrived at the hotel you made sure Rue was your roommate so you could stabilise her mood and bring back a spark of joy we’re so used to seeing. You thought it was working but when the day of your first game came you could tell she was on the war path - snapping at everyone and losing it over the littlest things. You hadn’t put two and two together until you were in the tunnel stood across from Australia, noticing Caitlin Foord directly opposite Ruesha, suddenly everything made sense. As your eyes burned into the back of Rue’s head who was burning holes into her rival’s - on the pitch and off, you could tell by her stance she was angry. Echoes of Rue’s voice shouting for Ireland bounced around in the metal tunnel, bangs on the side rippling through the line up. By this point it was too late to address her as you walked out with your team, grabbing her after group photos to ask if she was okay. “Yeah why wouldn’t I be?” she replied in loud arrogance. You knew this was going to be a looong 90 minutes.

———-

Shoving Rue back into the locker room Katie was in her face and not letting up as she screamed at her that she was psycho. Laying into her ex for ignoring her new girlfriend in the line up and lashing out after the game. There’s a lot Rue did wrong but she played a superb game regardless, she hadn’t played 90 minutes in ages and it didn’t show for a second. Noticing Rue was about to blow you put yourself between the two exes just like you did on the pitch with Caitlin. You knew Rue was gonna boil over and being the nearest to her, you had to pull her away.. And here we are - a screaming match after our first ever World Cup game.. it certainly leaves a lot to be desired for the rest of the tournament! Being only one person in the middle of two very passionate people right now, it didn’t take them long to simply walk around you. Every time you moved between them they just swerved your body to face each other again. Two Irish women screaming at each other made your ears ring. “If you were a decent human being I wouldn’t be fucking crazy would I!” Rue shouted literally through you towards Katie. “You tried to change everything about me and that still wasn’t enough for you!” this time standing on the bench to shout over the top of you. “It’s always the same argument from you isn’t it! Can you blame me for not being honest if this is how you react? I don’t love you anymore Ruesha, I haven’t loved you for years!” That statement from Katie made your eyes bulge in shock, that was a spiteful thing to say. “You always liked to keep your options open didn’t you!” still standing on the bench and kicking Katie’s belongings onto the floor. “You’re so over emotional and unpredictable Rue, what the fuck even was that out there? Are you trying to embarrass all of us? You don’t deserve to be here!” Katie picked up a boot to throw at her. “WOAH, THAT IS ENOUGH!” you screamed to get their attention, grabbing the boot out of Katie’s hand and throwing it across the room. “RUE! OUT! NOW!” pointing at the door. Ruesha’s arms folded as she refused to move so you did the only thing you could. Grabbing her legs and throwing her over your shoulder you carried her out as the screaming continued behind, kicking the door to open it as you marched the midfielder out of the changing room. Placing her feet back on the ground, as soon as the door closed she burst into tears, lowering her down gently as she collapsed onto the floor. Cradling your best friend who wailed into your lap as the rest of the team walked past, you waved them on determined to not make it a big scene. Once they’d passed, you scooped her up to carry her into an empty room and attempted to her calm her uneven breathing, fetching cold towels for her forehead before she gave herself a migraine.

Exhausted from all the crying she soon fell asleep on the coach, your back was against the window with your legs draped over her - feeling like you were protecting her against the world and the childish snickers from the back of the bus. Arriving back at the hotel you carried her limp body into your room and tucked her into bed, holding her into the next day, ready to take on the world again - in more ways than one.

[katyspersonal]

Alright Suspiciously Cheerful Katy, for that ask meme, I want THOTS on MARIKA plzzzzzz

Look at her fabulous hair ffs

THOTS on Marika, you say......

( Asks from this ( x ) meme)

Favorite thing about them:

It is really hard to point out something concrete! She is a very complex and well-written character, who has done a lot of bad and a lot of good, not to mention grandiose presence in the lore and worldbuilding! She appeared very cold and cruel through her words passed along and actions that we've learned about, but then there has also always been fixation on life, light, bounty and prosperity! I struggle to find a compromise between her war criminal oppressor side and her striving to create a warm heaven for self and others side! But maybe that's the point; big, strong, legendary, impactful figures in history always did BOTH bad and good, but become immortalised in history as just one of these dualities! When shaping history is always both creating and destroying! This is how 'shaping' works!

^^^ I like that she gives people a choice! Just like an actual idea of 'God' without being distorted; you have safety, love and purpose if you cooperate and you can choose struggle without any guidance if you want to! That some people can interpret as that "serve in heaven rule in hell" shit

^^^ I also like that she encouraged people that put faith in her to actually think! This is basically encouraging Fundamentalism which is "scholarship in all but name", but she doesn't want people to just blindly follow; she wants them to understand WHY they'd follow!

But I think above all, I like her tragedy of failing to build this perfect world and how it ends. I talked just recently about it in the post ( x ) about what was it that Gideon saw in "her will" that made him turn against everything prior, but in short: she wanted to keep the world in the state of permanent disarray, just as long as it doesn't recover and perpetuate the Golden Order.

The thing about a new Lord coming to her to be her consort and thus fixing everything? That's what Two Fingers had everyone believe and wanted, not her. :p She probably knew that she can't die by Shattering nor by a hand of a human, though maybe left a hope someone will find a way by urging Hewg to keep striving for a god-slaying weapon. But if she, and thus, Elden Ring, can't be killed, people can just stay away from it forever. That Gideon understood and we didn't and he deserves more credit for it fdshfdh

I compare her with Gwyn often, as they are the same trope of Fromsoft character: a divinity that tried to build a better world yet did a lot of evil to accomplish it and it was, tragically, corrupt by good intentions! But she did one thing he didn't: she was smart enough to know where it was going and oppose perpetuating cycle! Gwyn sacrificed himself to reignite what he gave to the world, Marika sacrificed herself to undo it! I know many people dislike this trope, as "the bad guy gets redeemed by sacrifice instead of doing a harder thing of staying alive and FIXING things they've done!", which is valid! But here it is not necessarily given as a noble act that "redeems" her, nor exposed as "cowardly" act! The narration allows us to interpret it however we want, but the real thing here: it is a human act. It was not rational or wise, but it sure was full of remorse

Basically I think I want to say, for a human, she made a pretty great God all things considered, because she was thinking about world and future and people, not just self.

Least favorite thing about them:

Her playing karma ping-pong with Hornsent and alike, for the lack of better term. 🙄 I believe that Omen curse was a direct result of the Crusade! Not even just because Grandam mentions it, it can always be a localisation error! But because it is logical: wraits, who are spirits of the dead mind you, haunting Omens, are horned! Like, yes, sure, her cruelty to the last Fire Giant and all blahblahblah, but girl what is this Omen Twins situation? They are your own children! They, and other Omens, already suffer with horrifying nightmares paying for YOUR sins, don't make it worse by either isolating them or encouraging "healing" them with heavy lethal rate procedure!

Betrayal means she was a trusted figure for them! As in, she held the power and influence enough to potentially help to gradually rid Hornsent culture of dangerous beliefs and practices! Like integrate them a bit more in the population under Erdtree that is largerly hornless, help them to see nobody is more or less divine, all that.. The cycle could have ended with HER! But she chose the grief and pain over healing (and Messmer probably amplified it, Crow I know you're dying to post that serpent theme is not incidental, you are not slick!!!)

She could have ended all this, she had the power! Why Ancient Dragons could have it but not them? We all know why: personal trauma. And yes, this is so sad, and so realistic, and I love this WRITING, but I can ALSO judge a character! Though, her actions ricocheting into whole Vengeance-Seeking Hornsent NPC's character was ALSO a good writing... argh

Favorite line:

"Hear me, Demigods. My children beloved. Make of thyselves that which ye desire. Be it a Lord. Be it a God. But should ye fail to become aught at all, ye will be forsaken. Amounting only to sacrifices..."

I am still not sure what is the context! Was it something she said upon already deciding on the Shattering, as foreshadowing for what infights will unravel? Or her mother skills were Just Like That, as she viewed her children first of all as tools of building a better world and being helpful powers to it, not as those living just for the heck of it? Silly, but the latter interpretation is basically a problem that existed in Disney's movie Encanto, where Alma would find a use for community in all family members with special powers but neglected the one born without any xD Anyways, badass quote no matter what was the context for it!

brOTP:

Does..... does Marika have friends? Many are either her family in one way or another or her lovers. xD I think Hewg qualifies the best, as wild as it sounds; Misbegotten are viewed as impure within her order and he speaks of her from obvious imbalanced position of reverence, but despite everything, she confided in him! It feels like a tragedy of people who were meant to be close friends but too much time was gone because of circumstances, decisions of the past which aftermaths lasted for centuries to taint everything, mistakes and absence of one of the sides (oh I wonder who... 🙄) or simply meeting too late in life. You can't tell me they didn't wish they'd met sooner / they could go back in time / whatever your interpretation is!

OTP:

I think she and Godfrey definitely deserved each other! They are a fun pair of war criminals! Marika trusts him a lot for sure! I think it was not just by being impressed by his power and fierceness as it is, but maybe something sadder, though? After learning the Shaman Village lore, I can't help but feel that she'd seek a very big and strong person capable of crashing her enemies FOR her on instinctive level. Because that terrified, defenceless girl is still somewhere deep inside.. Even past the point she herself can wield a hammer JUST fine! SHE was the one who killed Fell God, not him! :p I think he understood that and saw it not as being a tool, but on the contrary, felt honored that he could be of support.

^^^ At the same time, this line made me wonder whether Marika divested him and his warriors of grace for his sake, sort of? Even with Serosh on his back, he still values a good battle and power! I think their relationship were held on battles! When there is no enemy for them to defeat, or in most cases, for him to defeat for her sake, he would just start to wither. Passion between them likely was low when he hadn't defeated anyone recently! :p She was bitter about it, maybe thought a bit lower of him seeing that he is physically incapable of enjoying life without a good battle and her love is not enough, but knew it would be better for him and group he created to at least fight elsewhere rather than just be Standing There while things are alright!

It feels to me like relationship that can only blossom under certain circumstances, even if for an unhappy reason! They might even have conflicts; her being appalled at a person that doesn't wish peace, as someone who went through hell and wished nothing more than that, and him being weirded out at how someone wishes to stagnate when to live is to ever assert yourself. And this is valid! Conflict is healthy! Their issues meet one another the right way!

nOTP:

Again: I will know it when I see it! She makes every ship interesting and fun, it seems! ....all 3.5 ships with her that even exist lol fdhjfhd

Random headcanon:

I know that Radagon studied incantations, but I do not think these are actually his! Marika is a NERD! Her bedchamber is FULL of scrolls and scripted stone plates! She likes to study... and to preserve!

These plates and scrolls are the same that are found in Specimen Storehouse. I do not think that they are strictly connected with the research on how to recover Shamans from the jars; if anything, you'd think she gave up on it long ago, especially since Shadow Realm was severed from the Lands Between. But they are valuable knowledge and history!

I am just trying to say, she is the type to keep remnants of culture and history, including which she was responsible for destruction of. There are tanks and shields modelled after Fire Giants so people still remember the fear that evaded them, but I also think that Stormveil had Godskins' Prayerbook in it because Godrick stole it from Leyendell! Marika still preserves history, Messmer' Fire Knights still preserve history.... yeahhh, Messmer is an odd one out wishing to just burn everything down. -_-

Unpopular opinion:

I do love to compare her with Gwyn, however? The takes like "Marika is so complex and morally grey and well-written whereas Gwyn just likes genocide" AND the takes like "it is funny how Marika is just Gwyn but so much more evil and worse in every way" irritate me a bit! When they're not in a joke way! They are both very well-written, both wished for a better world yet built it on blood, both feared fire/darkness respectively, both ended up doing more harm than good despite noble intentions, and although with different purpose, both sacrificed themselves!

....and both fall for either idealisation or demonisation. As well as one being hyped above another. "Oh Gwyn was such a great character, Marika is just a bleak copy, Fromslop can never repeat the former success" vs "Oh Marika is such a huge improvement in writing, Gwyn was really bland in comparison, really just a draft for actually good character in the future".... 🤦‍♂️ Let's NOT pit the bad bitches against each other any more!!

Song I associate with them:

(It is on German, so version with English lyrics!)

Favorite picture of them:

Aside of @val-of-the-north absolutely horrible drawn memes featuring her that had me floored and screaming like a seagull ( x ) ( x ), it is this image??

I don't know who made this meme, I just had it saved somewhere and it makes me laugh so much because yes, this is exactly what playing ER is like hfdhfdshdfs

[llittletingoddess]

Katy Perry, mother, stop making me question my sexuality 😭

[the-kr8tor]

Requests for Katy my beloved writter👁️👄👁️✨💖

Hobie and R making multiple batches of cookies for friendsgiving/friendsmas, when they finally arrive at Ned's house they just see absolute chaos in the kitchen. The turkey is burnt, the mash potatoes are somehow liquid and the bread is hard as a rock.

-🪦

Hihihi I had so much fun writing their shenanigans! Thank you for requesting, pookie ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Reader is mentioned wearing makeup, CW suggestive, CW food mentions, Fluff!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

“Hobie!” You yell for him after seeing smoke slither its way inside from the patio. Your arms are full of the hot baking tray while your foot kicks the oven door closed for what seemed like the third time today. “Hobie!”

You two have been working on dinner for the past three hours now. Ned tasked you two in making dessert and for grilling anything you want; while he volunteered to have the holiday party at his place, and for the rest of the party to bring their own preferred potluck. You thought it would be easy considering that it'll just be you two and the band celebrating, but with the last minute addition of Hobie's friends from the society, you had to adjust the serving by a lot.

His muffled voice calls out from outside the house, then his unmistakable footfalls thump against the wooden floors of the patio, sound reverberating around the cozy place. The sliding door opens with a squeak, a second later you see his handsome face peek out from the crack while smoke billows inside.

“You called?” He smiles at the sight of you in your pink frilly apron complete with a matching pair of oven mittens. He got that for you as a joke a few years ago, but he always loves it whenever you don it on.

You're still in your striped pajamas under the apron, complete with Hobie's old shirt. With him mirroring your look but with a loose tank top on his body. Sweat dribbles down his brows, tongs in hand. There's only a couple hours left before the party starts, that's why your slight panic is evident in your frantic look.

“What're you smiling about? It looks like you're setting our backyard on fire!” Gesturing towards the smoke wildly, his grin spreads across his smug face.

“As much as I love settin’ fire to shit, ‘m not burnin’ our place down, lovie.” The thick smoke entering inside and spreading around the living room says otherwise. You reply with a ‘really?’ look on your already stressed face. “It's fine.” He shrugs, sliding the door closed before you could argue with him.

“Brown!” You call again, he turns back around and answers with his face scrunched against the glass while smoke fills outside, almost engulfing him. “You better not burn all the meat!”

“It'll be brown alright, love! The smoke brings out all the flavour!”

You sigh, shaking your head with a smile. You're absolutely stressed and frantic right now, especially when the cookies are still cooling on the tray and you still have to decorate it. The red velvet cake you purposely baked earlier now sits on the counter with its half decorated self waiting for you to continue. Despite the stress of it all, you love doing this with Hobie. You love seeing him relax, and just be at home once in a while, and you think that he's having the time of his life too based on the wink he gave you before turning back towards the grill. At least he's warm outside.

Stretching your aching neck, you once again hear the sound of the door squeaking open. Before you could look at Hobie, he quickly closes the distance, wide strides allowing him to get to you in record time. His hands reach out to you, before you know it, he's cupping your cheeks and pressing a loving kiss right on your lips. You stand there, surprised by the kiss but the familiarity immediately takes you over, making you hold him within half a second. Your arms reach up to the back of his neck, flour covered hands pushing him impossibly closer against you. He smells like smoke and cinders, you smile at the thought, an act he notices, eyes cracking open briefly to see your smile before deepening the kiss as he mirrors your smile.

Breathless, he finally pulls away, thumb brushing along the sheen of your lips. The lovestruck haze in his eyes are unmistakable, lips still puckered as if he wants to taste the icing on your lips again.

“What was that for?” You ask in between breaths, palms kneading along his shoulder blades. All the while you stare at him with hearts in your eyes.

His arm slides down towards your hips, embracing you closer. “I forgot to snog you today.” Shrugging, his lopsided smile has your heart taking a leap.

“Didn't you kiss me this morning?” You raise a questioning brow, teasing him.

“Ah shit, you're right.” Hobie chuckles, index wiping at the flour sticking on your cheek. He thinks for a second before leaning towards your lips again. “Want another one?”

“Ohh, a bonus one?” Your hands wrap around his tank top, pulling him closer as his breath fans your waiting lips. But the smell of something burning has him groaning in disappointment, head falling atop your shoulder. “You gonna get that, chef?”

He pecks your cheek before leaving your side, immediately making his way back outside the house. “Don't put icing on it yet! I want to help!” Yelling backwards, he pretends to take a deep breath and pinches his nose before opening the door and exiting the smoke filled patio. “Ah fuck!”

You laugh at his muffled coughing while he desperately fans away the smoke.

—

You and Hobie finally arrive at Ned's, the outside is filled with strings of twinkling light, inflatable reindeers and Santas dot along the yard, giving a very festive mood. Checking the time, you're five minutes earlier than you thought you would be even with the traffic and the fact that Hobie's insatiable mood had you redoing your hair and face twice. Craning your neck towards the driver's seat of his van, you see a very giddy Hobie smiling back at you.

“See, right on time.” He clicks his seatbelt, releasing it so he could lean over the center console to smooch your already kiss bitten lips. “D’you think five minutes would be enough?”

Laughing, you push him back on his seat gently with your palms right on his best dress shirt that you've customized for him with different buttons and random colourful stripes splashed on it after he complained that it looked too much of an office shirt. Not to toot your own horn, it definitely looks better than the washed corporate vibe it was before. It fits him better as he looks handsome under the warm light of his van.

“Five minutes for you isn't enough, Hobs.” He feigns a pout that you chastely kiss away. Moving back, you peck again, thinking, you kiss him again before finally pulling away. He looks victorious. “That should satisfy you before we get home.”

Tilting his head, hand reaching towards you, his thumb fixes your smudged lip gloss. Making sure he traces your lips while meeting with your eyes. “Later though, right?” There's something in the air, and it's not just the sweet scent of cookies filling the van.

You roll your eyes with a wobbly grin. Despite the freezing temperatures outside, you feel like you're burning up. “Yes, later.” Patting his cheek, you wipe your gloss from his lips to hide the evidence from your friends lest they tease him throughout the night.

Hobie looks like he won the lottery. “I'll tell Ned to hurry up dinner service.”

“No, you won't!”

Chuckling, you two exit the car with his and your arms full of food and presents. Your shoes click against the pavement, fixing your hold on the cookies whilst the aromatic smell of grilled meat (that was a second away from being charred) has your stomach rumbling. Hobie admits that the cookies you made were absolutely pants after he probably ate seven of them in one sitting. And with you sneaking a nibble of the barbequed meat, you almost placed it on a plate to devour it all. You two did a fantastic job with the food. The only thing missing now is actually celebrating with friends. You can't wait to taste what they've cooked up.

“Do you think Yuri will like her gift? She's hard to shop for.” You ask as you two walk towards the front door.

“She'll love it, trust me.” Cold air billows out from his lips, you wonder if his lip piercing is cold and whether you have enough time to warm it up before Ned could open the door. “What do you think about Miles’ present?”

His voice takes you out from your ogling. “The Hobie Brown worried about what someone thinks about him?” You teasingly poke his stomach.

“Come off it.” He smiles despite his words. Pressing the doorbell, it chimes softly. You two wait for a second before Hobie groans impatiently and presses the doorbell numerous times until a very worried Gwen opens the door.

“Hi—!”

“Thank goodness you're here!” She grabs the bags from your arms, only to drag you quickly inside. “The kitchen's fucked! This place is cursed!”

“How fucked?” Hobie shuts the door with his foot, following behind a confused you. Placing the bags down on a nearby table, he sniffs the air, smelling something…funky. “What's that smell?” As the three of you enter the mess that is the kitchen, a flying garlic knot heads towards Hobie that he effortlessly dodges and catches in one swift move.

“What the fuck happened here?” You stand there in shock at the state of the place.

The stove is covered in liquid potatoes that ooze from the pot. The walls look like it's crying out cranberry sauce, (you hope it's cranberry) and poor James looks like he's the living embodiment of a marshmallow puff. To your surprise, the turkey on the table looks perfectly cooked. Well, on the outside it is.

They all pause from trying to clean up the chaos. Pavitr looks like he's about to burst into tears, Yuri's busy with trying to wipe down James. While Miles and Ned try to save whatever they can from whatever's left in the oven. It's a mess to say the least.

Hobie squeezes the bread in his hand, finding it as hard as a rock. He might be Spider-Man but even with his strength, he had to put some force on it to even crack. The bread shatters into a million breadcrumbs in his hand, followed by his ear bursting laugh rousing the whole neighborhood.

“Help.” Pavitr says softly.

“Uh, we've got cookies and grilled meat?” Their sighs of relief echoes throughout the house.

[firstservepercentage]

USO kit tier list based on my bias

(just the players I normally watch)

WTA:

Tier A+

coco - NB's design and colour choice always makes so much sense. the back side design and the width of the skirt's folds are supre cute 🥺 they actually use their brain when designing kits!

naomi - without the jacket its maybe just so so, but an absolute banger with the jacket on. should be remembered as a historically significant kit for tennis fashion. and the headphones ohmygawd 🥺🥺🥺 who ever think this kit is not cute can fight me

Tier A

maria - whenever she gets a tank top kit she serves hard. nice colour choice and skirt design by addidas (cant believe im saying that) so sad it only existed for 1 set 😭

marta - wilson just going with the 1 dress design that worked well in every slam and its still working well. the skirt's texure looked so nice in the wind

Tier B

dasha & karo - a bit boring but suits their vibes well

qinwen - same. would like some brighter colours but was fine

katie & bibi - the actual best nike WTA kit. lilac looks cute especially under sunlight, but the design is a bit too boring for me

Tier C

elena - colour is cute, she looks like a barbie in pink, but 0 design and 0 sense in the patterning choice. looks like some swim suit my mom would buy me when I was 10

aryna (nigh match version)- how dare they call that a custom kit i can do the same design in 10 mins

Iga - bisexual flag colour but a low saturation version. also points taken off for their kits starting to look like wet tissue 20 mins into a match

Tier D

Mirra & Paula - hate the colour hate the design. nike how dare you put that ugly ass kit on them die and rot in hell

jasmine - (a) its the same north american hard court swing kit asics making 0 effort as usual (b) i do not understand that colour choice like why dull reddish purple with bright orange. what made you think of that

ATP:

Tier A+

daniil- nice colours, nice jacket, nice little design around the chest part, nice shoes. wth lacoste you can actually design???????

Tier A

Adidas people - contrary to their RG series the purple-ish blue the used this time works very well with black & white and minimalist design

Carlos - black sleeveless will never not look nice on him but its still a bit boring. would love to have a bit more special texture, with that it will def be A+

Francis - the only person that got the good nike kit (i.e. the lilac kit) in ATP if im not mistaken

Tier B

lorenzo (musetti) i like guys who wear barbie pink and look proud wearing it

matteo - not super interesting design but colour is cute. also he looks nice in polo shirts

Grigor - standard lacoste design with reasonable colour choice

Tier B-

Jannik- the kit was okay and looked a bit better than i expected. im just still a angry about his 1st set

casper - its actually okay but he kind of looked exactly the same as his opponent so i really had a hard time watching 😭

Tier C

novak - i dont understand the design why so many squares and rectangles sir can you explain. it just makes him look more like a tennis robot with implanted AI

holger (the purple kit) - should have just taken the barbie pink one

ben - same with iga. seriously i would like to know how much ON has paid them to wear those wet tissue kits

Taylor - it looks fine but 0 design, just went for the safest choice

Tier D

Jack - (a) i do not understand the back side design (b) nike how did you make the T shirt look oversized for a 193cm tall and rather muscular athlete wtf

Alex - is that pattern choice meant to make his opponent dizzy by looking at him or something

[satansapostle6]

fire and ice | james cook

Cook’s interest is piqued when an old childhood friend moves in across the street.

Warning: Mature themes/language. Drug use. Sexual content.

part three.

part four. safe space.

“Where are we going?” Tiff complained, cigarette in hand as she and Cook trudged along.

Cook might as well have been a mile ahead of her.

“You’ll see!” he called as he walked ahead of her, too giddy to concentrate.

“I don’t want to walk anymore!” she called, trailing behind him as she haphazardly switched between halves of the sidewalk like a swerving car.

“What’s the problem?” he asked, stopping as he turned to face her.

He looked at her with curiosity, observing her pouty expression.

“My feet hurt!” she told him.

He looked down and realized that she was wearing platform heels.

“Well, fuck, Tiffy, why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he questioned, walking back to where she was.

“I did! Twice now. You just weren’t paying attention.”

“Ah, I’m sorry. Here you are, little one!” he said with a drunken excitement as he approached her.

Tiff shrieked in surprise as Cook sloppily knelt down and wrapped his arms around her body, lifting her up off the ground completely. He threw her over his shoulder like a towel, refusing to stop, not even adjusting so that she wasn’t obstructing his vision. He consented to continue like that, swinging her around like a ladder he was carrying as he made turns.

“Cookie!” she exclaimed. “Put me down!”

“Why?” he challenged.

“Because! You can’t see where you’re going!” she reasoned.

“Ah, I don’t need to see where I’m going!” he insisted. “I’m fucking Cook!”

He continued announcing himself like a Pokémon, carrying Tiff over his shoulder all the way to the pub he was headed to.

“Hey! My skirt’s riding up!” she told him.

“You’re welcome, Bristol,” was all he had to say.

Everyone who passed them seemed annoyed, or at least confused, by what was happening. After all, it was about 5:00 on a Monday. No one seemed keen on ducking beneath the seventeen year-old girl’s swinging legs or listening to Cook’s screaming of various classic rock hits, or Tiffany’s loud laughter, which Cook was glad to be extracting.

“Keith!” Cook greeted the man who was strangely like his father as he finally set Tiff down on the floor.

She brushed herself off with some embarrassment, playfully rolling her eyes at Cook.

“Who’s the lovely lady?” the older man asked in a friendly manner.

“This, Keith, is the lovely Tiff!” Cook responded, “Who I am not shagging, because we are just friends,” he announced to the entire room.

No one even responded; Tiff could tell that this was definitely the kind of place where worst outbursts would be had still without affecting anything much.

“Freddie! JJ!” Cook said distractedly as he spotted his friends.

Tiffany followed him to a booth where two other boys their age were waiting.

“There you are, Cook,” Freddie McClair remarked. “Tiff,” he greeted her with a friendly smile.

“Hey, Cook.” JJ added shyly, “Hi, Tiff.”

“Hello, boys,” Tiff smiled, accepting as two beers were instinctively served to her and Cook, who began downing his automatically.

Although Freddie was much more discreet and indifferent than JJ, both boys seemed to be momentarily distracted before they promptly remembered that Tiff was a friend. Cook looked over in amusement as JJ seemed to have a hard time lifting his eyes up to Tiff’s face.

“I can see her undergarments,” he whispered to Freddie, who nearly choked on his drink, “Is that intentional?”

Freddie leaned in, whispering facetiously as Cook laughed. “Yes.”

JJ gulped visibly. Tiff didn’t seem to mind, sitting down as she silently prompted for Cook to do the same. The boys exchanged casual remarks before the other girls eventually all showed up. Tiff felt a cold, sneaky hand on her shoulder, and didn’t have to look up.

“Hey, Eff,” she grinned, as Effy Stonem took the empty seat beside her, Pandora trailing along as usual.

Effy sat down in silence as Katie Fitch took the chair next to Panda, seeming eager as usual.

“Hey, Effy,” she smiled, as her twin sister Emily sat down.

Effy didn’t have anything to say to Katie.

“Hi, Tiff!” Pandora said loudly after greeting each of the boys, individually.

“Hi, Panda,” Tiff said with a smile.

Out of everyone, she loved Pandora the most; Pandora was a beautifully weird girl who mostly went unappreciated, especially by Effy, but Tiff saw her. Panda, of course, was always very excited about this.

“So, Tiff!” Panda said, unintentionally cutting through everyone else’s side conversations. “Are you and Cook making monkey?!”

Katie nearly spit out beer as everyone looked between Tiff and Cook. Cook looked to his ‘friend and only friend’ with a grin, as Tiff just chuckled at Pandora’s adorable attempt at girlhood.

“No, Panda, we are not,” she promised her. “Unless you count Cook’s dreams.”

There were a couple amused smirks around the table, as Cook laughed, welcoming the subject.

“Now that you mention it, actually,” he spoke up, Derby accent thicker the more he drank, “I had this great one about us last night, in a field! It was beautiful! Flowers growing around us, and everything! Even got to whip it out and compare with a horse!” Cook said stupidly as Freddie just shook his head.

No one could really tell if this was true to any degree. Most knew him too well to say ‘no’ automatically.

*****

In the later hours, the girls, except for Effy, had disappeared, and the group had ended up in Freddie’s shed, the designated hangout spot belonging to him, Cook, and JJ. Everyone was considerably drunk and smoking, except for JJ, who seemed much more alert. There was a very intimate party happening.

More mellow music was playing, and Effy was swaying along, fairly out of her mind as Freddie just watched her, fascinated. Cook was sitting in a chair, bored and spectating, while Tiff enjoyed a cigarette, aimlessly wandering about the messy room, high. She eventually stopped and settled on a place to stand, watching, fascinated, as JJ showed her his various magic tricks while Cook laughed.

“That’s brilliant, JJ!” Tiff exclaimed happily at his conclusion.

“Not really,” he blushed at the compliment, “It’s really quite elementary…”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Tiff said sympathetically, “You’re really quite entertaining. I could watch you for hours.”

“Really?” he asked almost in disbelief. “They’re just basic tricks…”

“Not just the tricks,” she corrected him, “You.”

“Me?” he inquired, not understanding.

“Yeah. There’s something cool about you, you know?” she asked. “Like, your delivery, or something.”

“Me? There’s something cool about me?” he clarified.

“Yes, there is,” Tiffany assured him patiently.

“Sorry,” he apologized hastily, “People hardly think so. Especially girls.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Effy chimed in as she stopped dancing for a moment as she looked around, messing with Freddie’s belongings scattered around the room. “Girls ought to pay attention to you.”

“W-Why?” JJ wondered.

“Because you’re everything,” Tiff replied simplistically. “Sweet. Funny. Charming. Smart… You’re everything other people have to pretend to be get girls.”

“No one thinks I’m those things,” he laughed nervously.

“We do,” Effy supplied platonically.

“Well, how would anyone else know that?”

“I have an idea,” Effy said humorously, holding up a digital camera she’d found.

JJ had no idea what was going on as Tiff chuckled, her intoxicated brain catching onto what was going on in Effy’s. Cook was sitting forward, curious as he tuned into the conversation.

“W-What’s the idea?” he looked between them.

Effy just chuckled lightly, standing beside JJ as she held the camera up, snapping a quick photo as she suddenly leaned in, pressing a sweet kiss to JJ’s cheek. The camera caught his reaction just in time as his eyes widened and he looked as if he were about to faint. Cook’s laughter rang throughout the room as Freddie just observed, seeming envious of JJ.

“Oh,” the startled boy said, feeling undeserving.

“You know what’s even better than one girl?” Effy asked him.

“…What?”

“Two,” Tiff smiled, taking her place on JJ’s other side as she also lightly pressed her lips to his cheek, as Effy did the same again and took a picture to commemorate the moment.

Effy took the camera and showed the picture to Tiff, who chuckled fondly.

“Wow!” JJ said blankly, as Cook just watched him. “T-Two girls at once!”

Cook burst out laughing again as JJ once again failed to hear himself out loud.

“See, JJ?” Tiff said playfully. “You’re a stud.”

“I don’t feel like one,” he admitted, sitting down in fefeat.

Both girls sat down on either side of him, trying to be of support in their own unique ways. Tiff chuckled sympathetically, now visibly high as she seemed to genuinely feel for him.

“Oh, I could kiss you,” she cooed affectionately, very obviously not sober.

“Same here,” Effy said softly.

JJ’s eyes widened as he quickly looked back and forth between the two girls, as Cook sat forward, literally on the edge of his seat.

“Fucking hell, this is turning into real life porno,” he realized.

“I-I wouldn’t mind it if you did!” JJ jumped at the opportunity.

Effy smirked at his naïveté, taking his hand in hers as she soothed him.

“Breathe,” she said laconically.

He nodded quickly and silently, perfectly obedient as he did everything in his power to show the girls his compliance.

“I… I know this is just out of pity,” JJ remarked candidly as Effy’s hand gently combed through his hair, “But I don’t mind!” he blurted out, appreciative of the entirely foreign sensation.

Cook was loving every moment of this, unlike Freddie as he watched Effy’s hand slowly turn JJ’s head to look at Tiff, who he was equally taken with.

“Oh, J,” Tiff murmured, hand cupping JJ’s face as her thumb slowly traced over his lower lip. “Does this feel like pity?”

She slowly leaned in, as JJ realized he should do the same. He was completely confused at first, scrambling and panicking as he tried to remember step by step how kissing worked, but he seemed to calm down once he’d remembered Effy’s words, or word; breathe.

He gradually closed his eyes as he prepared himself for humiliation, but felt something else entirely. JJ felt Tiff’s lips meet his as she eased him into the tender kiss, taking her time before gently taking his bottom lip between her teeth, giving it a playful bite before releasing it. JJ’s breaths had been slow but shallow as he slowly opened his eyes. He’d forgotten that he’d existed in another state before the kiss, and was disappointed once he had to reacquaint himself with the real world.

Cook chuckled in disbelief, watching with widened eyes as Freddie just sulked beside him, simultaneously jealous and uncomfortable.

“That… That was amazing,” JJ confessed breathlessly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank her.”

JJ turned eagerly as Tiff turned his head back to Effy. His breath hitched with excitement as he felt a reassuring hand from Tiff resting on his thigh. Cook’s fantasy, he realized, was coming to life before him, with him as an observer as JJ sat between the two girls. He was looking readily at Effy as Tiff’s hand caressed his thigh. Effy’s gaze was fiery and piercing as she slowly crawled forward, hands cupping JJ’s face as her lips met his, tongue slowly making its way into his mouth.

Cook quickly shifted in his seat, hoping no one would notice as he just watched, speechless for once. He felt his mind wandering to godless recesses as JJ tentatively rested a respectful hand on Effy’s hip, starting to really relax as Tiff studied him, her hand massaging his thigh. Effy smiled as JJ let out an involuntary, high-pitched sigh, clearly in ecstasy.

Cook nearly screamed at them like a football match when JJ and Effy pulled away from one another.

“…Oh my God,” JJ wheezed, pale in the face. “I-I just kissed two pretty girls!” he realized.

“You’re so cute, JJ,” Effy promised him.

“So cute,” Tiff agreed in an almost sappy manner. “I promise you. Girls see it.”

“Thank you,” he blurted out again, still processing.

”You’re safe with us, JJ,” Tiff whispered with a smile.

Both Cook and Freddie could still hear, even with all the other noise in the room.

“Call us if you ever need to feel ‘safe’ again,” Effy said cheekily.

Both girls giggled mischievously as Freddie pouted, and Cook grew more and more envious.

-

part five.

[sloshed-cinema]

The Summer with Carmen [Το καλοκαίρι της Κάρμεν] (2023)

Well, I'll take this over some Deadpool-ass try-hard anti-comedy nonsense excuse for ‘meta’, at least. Deadpool and Wolverine will be sure to serve up meta-movie realness certain to become the favorite movie of the year for the most exhausting person you know, but what Zacharias Mavroeides’ fun gay summer movie is gunning for is Sebastián Silva’s razor-sharp Rotting in the Sun. This does make up for some of that Mexican feature’s disappointing lack of nudity in spades. This film serves up a meaty platter of D&A from almost frame one, with everything from swarthy bears to perky old dudes to willowy sarong twinks up on offer. Be free, go as you please, there isn’t some pearl-clutches with Bruce Harrell on speed-dial ready to donate a playground to try and shut down the nude beach. Throughout the film we witness Desmothenes’ dalliances as he struggles to get over (or not) a break-up after four years in a relationship. But sorry, gays, this isn’t Backdoor Sluts 9: Athens. It’s about making a gay movies. And this is where the film itself falters on its feet. Making a movie about movies is always a tightrope walk: do you want to make a clever piece of metafiction that justifies its existence, or just point out that you too have read Save the Cat? Pointing out that you know the rules doesn’t count as subversion. I don’t feel clever by pointing out that it’s clear the pooch Carmen is going to become a proxy battle between Desmothenes and his ex Panos, a sort of vessel into which he pours all of his unresolved emotions over their relationships. The pointed irony that Desmothenes’ distant mother Kati dotes on Carmen with all of the affection that she never gave her son isn’t lost. Pointing out structural elements, mulling flaws, trying to “critic proof” a story for the sake of doing it doesn’t make a film more clever or engaging, it simply liberalizes and broadcasts the exact process that every writer goes through when creating a script or piece. Where Rotting in the Sun adopts a bold, surrealist strategy and drop-kicks its initial premise into the Sun, The Summer with Garment is more content to point out that it’s on training wheels. It works occasionally: the deleted scene bit is worthy of a snicker, for instance. Desmothenes and Nikitas peeing at the end of the movie as so many of us queue up to do the same after a film is done, is perhaps the only way to end this irreverent flick. But really, I’ve seen this all before.

Shoutout to my watching buddy at SIFF 2024 who leaned over and whispered to me each and every moment when he knew what meta beat the movie was reminding us of. Yep.

THE RULES

SIP

Someone says 'Carmen'.

Writing the movie script is brought up.

Yorgos Tsiantoulas is simply irresistible.

BIG DRINK

An act/part intertitle appears onscreen.

Cut back to the nude beach.