#ain’t enough time in the day. and yet i never seem to do anything

[shitouttabuck]

wip wednesday

tagged by @rewritetheending @onward--upward and @alyxmastershipper 💓💓💓

i haven’t reeeeally started writing anything other than planning this out broadly because it’s very plot heavy but got a little lost thinkin about the intimacy of shaving the other day so this is from x files au in some shitty shared motel room while they’re cryptid hunting or chasing aliens idk we’ll figure it out

When he emerges, hair towelled dry and in clean clothes, Eddie frowns at him. “What?” he asks. “Promise I didn’t finish all the hot water.” “No, you just look—” Eddie gestures at Buck’s face, “—scruffier than usual.” “Oh,” Buck says, running a hand over his day-four stubble. “I forgot my razor.” “Oh,” Eddie’s face clears, “just use mine.” Buck swallows. “Um. Okay. Thanks.” Eddie nods at him and goes back to squinting at his phone, so Buck about-faces and re-enters the bathroom. It’s not a big deal, he tells himself as he foams up his face. It’s like—like sharing a hairbrush. Intimate, sure, not something you’d tend to do with people you don’t know well, but it’s not a big deal.  He wets the razor and brings it to his throat, heart hammering there so violently it feels like his Adam’s apple is trying to get out. If his hand doesn’t stop trembling he’s going to nick himself, and God, he is being absolutely fucking ridiculous. Deep breath. The razor glides over the thin skin of his throat, muscle memory even as he stares at himself in the mirror. Doesn’t think about Eddie doing this every morning, using this very razor. Blade edge kissing his jaw the same way it kisses Eddie’s. Doesn’t think about Eddie doing this for him, hand holding his chin as he shaves Buck carefully, grip firm when he turns Buck’s face this way and that. Doesn’t think about Eddie kissing where the blade kissed him first.  Doesn’t think about any of that when he rinses the razor clean and slots it back into the travel mug, where Buck’s toothbrush rests against Eddie’s with such easy familiarity it’s about to spark a whole new crisis. 

tagging @try-set-me-on-fire @jeeyuns @housewifebuck @anxieteandbiscuits @forthewolves @zahlibeth @athenagranted @buckactuallys @transboybuckley @icecreampotluck @diazblunt if you have anything to share today or later!

[rubyvhs]

day two : car sex (dean winchester) .ᐟ 18+ fem!reader

Dean waves at Sam as his brother walks away from the car and into the victim’s house to question her. All three of you thought it’d be best to split up, and since you and Dean are obviously you and Dean, you’re both together. 

You quickly step out of the car to get in the passenger's seat, and the second you do, you lean in to kiss your boyfriend. It had been ages since the both of you have had the car to yourselves, have had any time to yourselves. 

He seems to agree as reaches one hand to pull you closer and you oblige, nearly hitting the console between both your legs as you’re practically joined at the hip. He lets out a low groan in your ear and you pull away with a smile. “What?”

“I miss you ‘s what. Too many back to back cases, that’s for sure.” Yeah, well, can’t argue that one. Until you remember you’re outside your case’s house and quickly move back. Dean notices the change in your demeanor and chuckles. “Okay, yeah, let’s get to the morgue.”

And you’re not sure how you even got into it after hearing that, or how Dean managed to get hard, but the way the tip of his cock is teasing your entrance, slipping past your clenching pussy, he’s definitely hard. So fucking hard and wanting, “c’mon, sweetheart, gotta relax for me. Don’t know how I haven’t stretched out your pretty pussy yet— god, still so fucking tight.”

“Dean— ah, ‘s too big,” as if you don’t cry it out every single time. You’ll never get used to him being so much bigger than you, manhandling you, but most of all, forcing you open with his cock enticing way too loud sounds out of you that he has to swallow down.

“Still in the parking lot, baby.” He reminds you, his fingers brushing against your nipple roughly on their journey down to your clit where he rubs slow circles. He already ate you out, he doesn’t know what more preparation you need, but anything to get his girl there, to make this a little easier for you ‘cause under all that moaning and pleasure, Dean knows it might hurt sometimes. 

“I know, i’know Dean, need you to go faster though, please, baby, need you inside.” And he ain’t stupid enough to refuse as he pushes into you then starts rocking his hips back and forth, groaning into your mouth then he lands in between your shoulder and jaw, kissing every part of you to try and ground himself if even a little.

Having sex with you? Great, awesome, unreal. Having sex with you in Baby? “Fuck, sweetheart, so fucking good.”

“Too much— De, wait, wait,” he slows completely, worry filling his eyes.

“You okay? What’s wrong?”

“Can I— I wanna try something. Please.” Like he would argue with that. You tell him to sit up and he does, back against the leather (after he put his jacket under the both of you, Baby’s a national treasure), and you slowly get on top of him. Dean can’t help the groan that escapes when he feels your hot core slide against his dick, his hands shooting to your waist. But you don’t exactly have time for foreplay, so you adjust yourself until he’s inside you.

Dean’s eyes shut closed as his head rolls back with a grunt. Jesus, you’re so beautiful and there, riding him, slowly like you’re trying to find a rhythm but two minutes in Dean can’t wait for you to, he grabs your hips roughly to move you and you bite down on his shoulder only slightly, knowing he likes it. 

“Jesus, you close, baby? You gonna come?”

With his hard thrusts and fingers playing with your nipples, both of your orgasms are close— until oh God, finally— you let go with a scream that Dean swallows in a kiss, him bucking his hips into yours further. 

You’re still catching your breath, head laying on Dean’s shoulder, when his phone rings and he takes it, his voice thick. “Hello.”

“I’m in the morgue, where are you?”

“What morgue—” You slap his arm before he remembers, “oh shit, yeah, we’re there. We’re here— never mind, Sammy, we’re on our way.”

He hangs up with a breathy laugh and you pull away to look at him. “No wonder you spend all your time in this car.”

“Mm,” he hums, looking up at you, “she’s one a kind, isn’t she?” And you’re not sure whether he’s talking about the car or you.

[solar4seekstron]

Tf1! Orian Pax one day seeing this normally quiet miner! Reader sneaking off. And gotten curious he decided to follow. Leading to a very hidden place that he had no clue existed yet, forgotten and high up, he finally climbed up and he was in awe. As the reader found a rare glimpse of the starry night of the surface... you cook with the rest of it my dear.

That’s really good!!! I shall do my best.

Orion Pax x Cybertronian!Reader Oneshot: Special Spot

(I didn’t know if you meant actually on the surface or not but a few guys ago I went to the mountains with my family. Some people lived in really nice houses in the mountains so that gave me an idea! I hope you still enjoyed! Or just DM to yell at me if I got it wrong lol)

I decided this would be cute of Orion Pax finally gaining the strength to tell his crush his feelings and after finding their little special spot close to the surface. He’s so fixated, he forgets his nervousness and finally has a chance to get a spark mate.

TW/Tags: Wholesomeness and fluff, Orion is precious, reader is quiet, this is so sweet you might get sick lol

Orion pax has always noticed you. Although you were always quiet and didn’t speak much. Until a superior or- Elita spoke to you. You always seemed in a good mood and when he tried talking to you. Your words are always sweet and soft. Hell to the others it seems like you don’t even know the concept of sarcasm. Since everyone else does it with him but when he’s with you. He actually feels no attacked.

Over time. He grew a bit of a crush on you. Although not with much to say. And would never threaten him with beating him with a shovel. Your actions always spoke louder. He knew that tonight is going to be the night.

So once everyone else has fallen asleep. He makes his way towards you and once at your sleeping spot. He noticed when pointing his helm out of the corner, you were- AWAKE?!?! He watched you

You were walking away and made your way out of the mining quarters. He followed behind you to where you don’t notice him

———————————————————————————

After some time you continue to make your way to a certain spot. Right between two buildings that are higher up a sort of mountain. A steep hill the buildings were set on

Once you made it there you leaned your back against the wall. There was an amazing view once you looked up. An opened window to the stars of the surface. Although it wasn’t that big. It was just enough for you to see. You continued to stare up. Not noticing Orion snuck up next to you. He then leaned down a bit close to your audio sensors and whispered as gently as he can “what are we looking at?”

This startled you. You were quick to back up your arms in front of you to protect yourself. Orion had his hands up and looked at you.

“Woah. Easy. I ain’t here to hurt ya or anything.” You just looked at him. Looking back at the ground and back at him a few times. He realized you were worried and thought fast.

“Hey,..I won’t snitch if that’s what you’re worried about…I have my secrets too around this city..” he chuckled. You stayed still for a moment looking at him. But then you’d slowly give him that usually warm smile and looked back up at the stars. Orion looked up too. Took him a moment but he was able to finally see them. He was amazed. So enchanted he was actually quiet for a moment.

You let out a sigh as you close your eyes “one day I’m going to fly under those stars. Only closer to them then…” Orion glanced at you and gently smiles. His optics soft

You two stand there looking up for a few more Nano Kliks until Orion finally spoke. His fight gently touching yours.

“So um….you wanna…goooo”

“Yeah Orion. I’ll let you court me”

Orion turned to the opposite side of you raising his arm and first as he closed his optics and whispered “yes!!!!”

You chuckled your helmet resting on his shoulders as you closed your optics. Your hand holding his until they interlocked. Orion continued to look at the stars. He was so happy.

Hope y’all enjoyed!

[chimielie]

cw f!reader , mild fraternal violence , atsumu’s terrible lying skills

“I know something you don’t know,” Osamu singsongs, standing in the doorway of their shared bathroom and peering over his brother’s shoulder at his reflection in the mirror.

“Yeah?” Atsumu grunts, yanking a comb through his hair and glaring back at his twin. “Spit it out, shitty ‘Samu. I got places to be, you know?”

“Ouch, don’t shoot the messenger,” Osamu drawls, leaning against the doorframe. “I know that you have a date tonight and you think you’re being sneaky about it.”

“Do not,” Atsumu scowls immediately, dropping the comb and turning around, because he is the worst liar ever. “I don’t even—what are you—I’m taking myself on a date, how about that, it’s called self care, ever heard of it? Huh? Okay? Huh?”

“Okay,” Osamu says, “You’re wearing a tie.”

“I can wear a tie if I want to,” Atsumu sneers, fiddling with it.

“Last summer, at Uncle Jun’s wedding, Ma had to literally threaten to shave your head to get you to wear one.”

“I’m a man now,” Atsumu sticks his chin up, examining his jaw. “I can wear a tie. Hey, did I miss anything while I was shaving?”

“You don’t have any facial hair to shave. And you have a hickey right there.”

“What? Seriously? Where?” Atsumu panics, turning back and forth.

“Ha, I got you—hey!!! Don’t hit me, asshole! I’ll tell Ma!!! And you—you left your fucking bouquet out on my desk, by the way. I told you to stop putting your stuff—no I swear I’ll kill you get offa me get off!—on my desk just because yours is too messy!”

“It was there for five seconds! You left all your laundry on my bed the other day—“

“Where was I s’posed to put it, the floor?”

“Your closet!” Atsumu roars. “Oh, shit, what time is it?” He drops his brother’s shirt collar abruptly.

“5:30,” Osamu says, dusting himself off. “What time you gotta be there?”

“She’s walkin’ over here now, probably,” Atsumu says, rushing back to the bathroom. “Fuck, well since you know, can I use your cologne?”

“It’s the same one you have?”

“It’s better, I don’t know,” Atsumu argues. “Just gimme it, it’s like one spritz.”

“Fine,” Osamu grumbles. “Hey, ‘Tsumu, I know something else you don’t know.”

“What,” Atsumu rolls his eyes as he walks around, frantically shoving his keys and wallet into his pockets, picking up the bouquet—delicate red and white flowers, not bad, scrub, thinks Osamu.

“This ain’t your first date,” he says smugly.

“What are you, Sherlock Holmes?” His brother says. “How d’you figure that?”

Osamu mock-stretches before counting off on his fingers. “One, you never walk home with me and Suna anymore. Two, there’s some flowery shit that appeared in our shower, and I know I didn’t buy it, and you’re not walkin’ around smelling like lavender and honey, so you’ve gotta be sneakin’ someone in. Three, you came to practice two weeks ago with an actual hickey, y’know, when you kept missing sets ‘cause you were in such a good mood.”

Atsumu blinks at him, finally lost for words.

“And,” Osamu says, tone somewhat gentler. “You seem a lot happier lately. Less, y’know, hard on yourself. Whoever it is, I think she’s good for you.”

“Thanks,” Atsumu says, swallowing roughly. “You’re so sappy.”

“Says the guy holding the flowers.” And trying not to let his eyes water over, but Osamu doesn’t say that bit. He can spare some of his brother’s dignity.

“It’s our six-month anniversary,” Atsumu says quietly. “Please don’t tell Ma yet, okay? She’s always on about volleyball bein’ enough of a distraction from school, I know she thinks dating is too. I just wanna—I want her to like my—”

He says your name just as the doorbell rings.

“Her? You’re dating—?” Osamu’s tone is incredulous. “Hold on, you can’t go yet. She’s like a million times out of your league—”

“I know!” Atsumu beams at him. “Keep your mouth shut or you’ll regret it. Tell Ma I’m sleeping at the dorms with Suna. Bye!”

[pandapetals]

Nightmares

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - angst, nightmares, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

After dating for a while, you try to convince Logan to stay in your bed despite his nightmares.

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

Things between you and Logan had moved quickly after that long year of pining, flirting, and stolen glances that led to the inevitable confession. It had taken time, but once the feelings were out in the open, things fell into place—almost effortlessly. Logan was a gentleman, old-fashioned in the way he held the door for you or offered his hand whenever you stepped out of the car. 

While you appreciated all those gestures, what you longed for most was something simpler. You wanted to wake up within arm’s reach of him, to feel his warmth next to you when the early morning light crept through the window.

But that seemed impossible.

Everyone at the mansion knew Logan didn’t sleep much, and when he did, it often ended in nightmares—violent, heart-wrenching ones that sent his body into a battle of its own while his mind relived horrors buried deep within him. It had been that way for decades, and the others had grown used to the occasional sound of his muttering, the low groans that echoed through the mansion in the dead of night.

You weren’t used to it. You wanted to help. From the moment the two of you began dating, you had been determined to ease his pain. Yet, every time you mentioned it, Logan would brush it off, insisting that it was something he’d learned to live with. "It’s part of me, sweetheart," he would say, his voice low and gruff as if the weight of it all was too much to burden anyone else with. "Ain’t nothin’ you can do about it."

So, he kept his distance. Even as you grew closer emotionally, he kept you away at night, a silent barrier between the two of you. He feared hurting you—he feared himself.

One night, after yet another evening of him retreating to his own room, you had had enough.

"Logan," you said firmly, your voice a mixture of frustration and affection. "I’m telling you, I’ll be fine."

He was standing near the edge of the bed, his shoulders tense, the muscles in his arms coiled like he was ready for battle. He shook his head, not meeting your eyes. "You don’t understand," he muttered, his voice thick with that familiar rasp. "I could hurt you. When the nightmares come... I have no control. I can’t... I won’t risk it."

Your gaze dropped to his hands, those calloused hands you knew so well—hands that had held you gently, protectively. You also knew what lay beneath the surface. His claws retracted now, but always there, waiting. The thought of him losing control scared him more than anything.

"I don’t trust myself," Logan whispered, his voice barely audible now as if he was confessing a sin. "I’m sorry."

He turned to leave, but you weren’t ready to let him go—not this time. With a quick movement, you slipped out of bed, catching his arm before he could leave your room. "Logan," you said, your voice softer but firm, pleading. "Please. Just try for me. If it’s too much, I’ll sleep on the floor or... or whatever it takes. But just... be here."

He looked down at you, his expression torn, those stormy eyes filled with an internal battle you couldn’t even begin to understand. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, with a resigned sigh, he nodded—barely, but it was enough.

The first night he stayed with you, you had sensed it even before he woke. The way his breathing quickened, his muscles tensed beneath the blankets—small signs that told you the nightmare was taking over. You didn’t hesitate. Slipping out of bed silently, you moved to the chair by the window, watching him carefully from a safe distance. You weren’t afraid—you trusted him—but you knew Logan would never forgive himself if he hurt you.

Moments later, his body jerked violently, a low growl escaping his throat as his claws extended with a harsh snikt. He woke with a start, sitting up and panting, his chest heaving as he tried to get his bearings. His eyes scanned the room until they found you sitting there, calm and patient, waiting for him.

"You... you moved," he said, his voice hoarse, the pain of the nightmare still lingering in his tone.

You gave him a small, reassuring smile. "Just giving you space," you said gently. "I’m here, Logan. I’m not going anywhere."

He stared at you for a long moment, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing as he realized you weren’t afraid. You hadn’t run. You were still here, waiting. It was then that he knew he didn’t have to explain—he never had to explain. While he rarely shared the details of what haunted him, on nights like these, when he felt safe enough, he would start to talk, his voice low and raw, as if the words hurt to speak aloud.

He told you about the wars, about the blood and death, and the faces that still haunted him. About the men he had killed, sometimes not even remembering their names. You listened, always listening, never asking more than he was willing to give. When he grew quiet, you would move back to the bed, curling up beside him, grounding him with your presence.

As time passed, Logan began to relax more around you, his nights spent in your bed becoming more frequent. The nightmares didn’t stop, but he learned to trust that you were there, that he wasn’t alone in the fight.

You made your room a safe place for him—a sanctuary of sorts. The dim light of the bedside lamp, the soft hum of a fan in the corner, and the familiar scent of vanilla from the candles you liked to burn. Everything in the room was designed to soothe, to ground him. 

Before bed, you created a routine—something simple but effective. You’d brew a cup of chamomile tea, and he’d drink it with that reluctant smirk of his, pretending he didn’t need it but secretly enjoying the quiet ritual. Afterward, you’d settle into bed together, and your favorite part came next.

"Alright," you’d say softly, pulling out a book from your nightstand. "What are we in the mood for tonight? Something classic?"

Logan would nod, his body already relaxing into the pillows. It became part of the routine, you reading aloud to him, your voice a soothing balm against the chaos that sometimes lingered in his mind. You’d start with a chapter or two, your voice soft and melodic, and by the time you’d finished, Logan’s breathing would have slowed, his head resting against your shoulder, his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

Some nights, he’d drift off peacefully before you even closed the book, the tension in his face softening as sleep claimed him. You’d smile to yourself, gently placing the book on the nightstand, and press a kiss to the top of his head before turning off the light.

One night, after you finished reading, Logan murmured sleepily, his voice rough but content, "Don’t know how you do it, darlin’."

"Do what?" you asked, brushing your fingers through his hair.

He shifted, tightening his hold on you. "Make me feel...safe."

You smiled in the darkness, your heart swelling at his words. "Because you are safe, Logan. With me, you always will be."

In the quiet that followed, with the moonlight streaming softly through the window, Logan finally let himself believe it. 

[kawakalalala]

Outlaw: 1

INTRODUCTION POST!

wc: ~1.8k

tags: pretty much just kissing, nothing too crazy yet!

a/n: thank you all so much for being patient with me while i crank this bitch out! i’m really excited to see what u guys think :3

You’d heard the voice before. Hundreds of times. His voice rattled your bones like a late August thunderstorm over the lake.

“Hands up.”

You turn with your hands in the air expecting just to see Jerry Anderson, the sheriff who’d been after you since you were old enough to run.

There was never even a thought to not run. You could weasel your way out of anything; you’d been running your whole life. But something in you kept you from grabbing at the gun on your hip.

“Ain’t nowhere to run no more, huh?”

You weren’t sure what came over you. ‘Easy’ wouldn’t have even begun to describe how quickly you could kill this man. In a hundred ways. But you knew what you needed, and you knew what the way to get that was. It was surprising for you to see a second person, behind him, taller and broader, with a face hidden by the shadow of a hat.

“Looks like it.” You drop down to your knees and lay down your revolver, kicking it out of reach. The Sheriff was surely on top of the world right now. He’d been trying to get you for years after the killing. It was personal, but not on purpose.

The broader figure starts to move, slowly becoming illuminated by the soft glow of your campfire.

You couldn’t remember the last time you saw Abigail Anderson. You almost didn’t recognize her, but there was no way you could've forgotten the way her freckles bit her cheeks, the soft bump in her nose, and the softness of her jaw. She’d worn her hair in a braid then too, but now it was long enough to dangle past her shoulder blades. Had that much time really passed?

She passed you and walked up to Belle, the liver chestnut overo mare. She wasn’t as fast as she was when you met her; she needed a little more grace around turns, and her white fur started to bleed into warm brown on her face. You loved her more than you could love anything, because there wasn’t much to love about the life you led.

“Don’t tie her to your horse,” you turn to face Abigail, “she’ll bite him in the ass.”

She exhales with the faintest likeness of a laugh.

“How d’ya suppose we’ll get her back to town then?”

You shrug, knowing she’d follow you wherever you went. You don’t notice you’ve been handcuffed until you go to stand up.

Jerry Anderson was kinder to you than he should’ve been, considering what you’d done to him. His hand is heavy on your shoulder as you pull yourself onto his wagon.

✦✦✦

You wake up to the light from your cell’s window prodding at your eyelids. Large enough to see everything, (including Belle, hitched up outside, still sleeping).

“They decide where I’m goin’ yet?” You shout at Abigail, scribbling away on some papers near the front door.

There were a handful of things that were convenient about your position: the sheer size of your town made it so it was only necessary to have a few cells in the sheriff’s department. (if you could even call it that.) And that you always had company.

“No. We ain’t even sent out the mail this mornin’. Give it some time.” She laughs.

“Whatcha doin' over there?”

“Nothing,”

“Well ‘nothing’ seems quite time-consuming.”

She finally turns around and looks at you, and you see her clearly now. The light scar across her cheek, her soft blue eyes, her supple, soft pink lips, and the toothy smile she gives you when she asks, “What are you getting at?” Seeming only slightly annoyed.

“Nothing.”

“I’ll be sure to get the mail with your papers sent out today,” A smile pulls at her lips, but you don’t notice it.

You’re picking at your nails when you ask, “This all you do all day? Seems like I’m a mighty fine companion to keep around.”

“What do you do all day then? Steal and kill?” She turns back around in her chair.

“Pretty much,” you stand up and stretch, a groan escaping your lips. “I love murder.” You try to stay as deadpan as possible, but you can't hold back a giggle, sitting down with your back against the cell door and peering out the window at Belle.

“I’m serious,” her tone changes, “Why on earth would you want to live runnin’?”

“It was freeing once, “ you tell her, the back of your head against the heavy metal bars of the door, “but freedom gets lonely sometimes.”

“Seems real convenient that this revelation is gettin’ had after you been caught,” there's an edge to her voice, but it’s still smooth and cool, like a stone in the palm of your hand.

“It ain’t no revelation, darlin’, I just finally made a choice,” you say matching her edge as best you could, “and your Daddy ain’t do no catching, I let him have me. ��

“Bless his heart,” she says, “but I’ll believe you there. He couldn’t pour water out of a boot if the directions were on the bottom.” You both laugh, and for a brief moment, you forget what brought you here in the first place.

She turns around to look at you. For a brief moment, you and Abigail are 12 years old again. The wind whispers her name, and you’re watching the sunrise on your walk to school. You like her because she doesn’t talk about boys. She doesn’t talk about much of anything. You like her company, and she likes yours. At the end of your twelfth summer, she doesn’t want to walk with you anymore, and you don’t ask, or even wonder why. You walk to school alone until you drop out at 15. You turn to look at her.

The door opens, and you watch as Jerry walks in. The way he looks at you makes your stomach churn.

“Mornin’ sir,” you smile at him, and he ignores you.

“You can put her outside y’know,” he says to Abigail, like you aren’t even there. “them stalls under the barn lock.” He laughs, and your blood boils.

“We’ll see.” Abigail tries to forget about the hard part of this job. She’s always trying to forget about the hard part of this job. She knew you once.

You hold your tongue until Jerry leaves. He talks to Abigail a bit longer, and makes another offer to “get rid” of you for her.

Part of him stays when he walks out the door. Suddenly you realize what you’ve done. The fantasy of a free life might’ve been attainable if you were a less successful bandit, but there’s no way you’ll ever be a free woman.

You’re never going to be free. You’re going to die here, with a failed childhood friendship and a man who wants you dead. You’re never going to feel the sun on your skin again.

You’re going to die here or somewhere worse. You’re going to watch your life walk by you and you’re stuck behind bars because of a stupid one-off thought you had. Your breathing gets heavy and your head spins, and suddenly you’re grabbing onto anything you can get ahold of.

You should’ve fucking shot him.

✦✦✦

“What in the hell was that?” her voice is cool and smooth, even when she tries to have any semblance of urgency.

“Dunno.” You’re both on the ground. Her right hand cradles the back of your head, holding your hair off your neck, and her left holds a glass of water to your lips.

“That ever happen before?” Her eyebrows are furrowed with concern, and you stay silent, taking a sip.

She doesn’t seem to mind. She watches you intently, readjusting her hand on your neck. You set down the water and look at her.

“Why’ve you been so damn kind to me?” Your eyes well with tears, and her furrowed brow softens, just a little. “I’m a criminal, Abigail, I’m not- I’m not a good person.”

“I ain’t a good person neither.” Her voice is almost a whisper. “Have some more water.”

“Okay.”

You’d never been one to listen to anyone. You were entirely uninterested in being told what to do. But the way she spoke to you was different. You didn’t seem to have a problem taking orders from her, because she genuinely seemed like she cared. She wasn’t patronizing or arrogant.

“I’m sorry I stopped being your friend.” Her hand is warm against your skin.

“That was so many years ago.”’

“Don’t make me less sorry.” Her hand moves slowly from your neck to your jaw.

“I’ll give you a second chance,” Your eyes dart from her blue eyes to her lips, and for a moment, everything goes silent.

“I’d like that I think.” She inhales sharply, and drops her hand. “I got some paperwork to fill out. D’you need anything?”

“Yeah, I think so,” You say before kissing her softly, just once. You pull away and look at her, and you lift one hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She looks at you like you electrocuted her. “Think that’s all.”

Something clicks in her head and she lunges to kiss you. It's sudden, but it’s soft. She’s soft. You reach down to replace her hand on the meeting of your neck and jaw, and she places another hand on the small of your back. Tension releases in your shoulders that you hadn’t noticed was there in the first place. You place a hand on each of her shoulders and push her backwards, still following her lips with yours. You can feel the muscle in her shoulders, but she’s pliable and obedient in your hands.

Your tongues dance against one another with the same cadence as the wind in the grass at the end of your twelfth summer. And as the light of the sun on your twenty-sixth summer falls over the same grass, you pull away from Abigail to look at the small smile pulling at her mouth, the flush across her cheeks, her pupils blown and her lips only slightly swollen.

“Whatcha lookin’ at me for?” Her voice is almost a whisper.

“You’re beautiful, Abigail. Damn near the most handsome woman I ever seen.”

She can’t bring herself to say anything in response. She can’t even bring herself to look up at you. She can’t bring herself to lock you back in here, and sit out at her desk and watch, let the state take you away and hang you for your crimes.

“I’m gonna get you out of this goddamn place.”

“You’re what?”

[loveandmurders]

Not sure if this is where requests go, don't do it often, but would love a part 2 for Ya ain't love me, Bo needs some lovin 💗

No rush or anything,just thought I'd ask

Hello love, thank you so much for having requested another part for this <3 In the end I wrote quite a bit and there will be 4 parts in total.

Hope you'll enjoy &lt;3

You can find part 1 here.

YA AIN'T LOVE ME YET - PART II (female reader x Bo Sinclair)

Warnings: no proof reading, obsessive!Bo, mentions of murders and violence, non consensual relationship (no sexual abuse), angst.

It was the first time in weeks you had been able to sleep without being tied up and you enjoyed freely moving around in the bed, even if Bo’s arm stayed wrapped around you the whole time. The man had fallen asleep with a little smile on his face. He was happy you were finally playing into his game and you were finally giving him a chance. He knew that if he was good enough you would forget about your dead ex boyfriend and about running away from him. He was certain everything was going to be alright from now on. It had to be or he would fully lose it.

At the same time, he knew he would need to agree on some rules with you so he could trust you. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe you weren’t going to try and escape at the first occasion. And it would kill him. He wasn’t certain he deserved love and happiness, because of the monster he truly was, but he still needed it more than anything. 

He snuggled against you, his face into the crook of your neck. Your scent was appeasing him so much. He woke up before you and watched you in his arms. You almost looked at peace too, and it was only making him hope even more. He thought how beautiful you were, such an angel in his embrace, and he started to play with your hair. He could have stayed like that forever. Actually, if you had wanted, he would have happily agreed to stay in bed all day with you. He couldn’t stop himself from quietly kissing your face. He was trying his best to be soft and tender. He wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t just a broken and angry man. He would do anything you would want from him, as long as you didn’t try to run away from him. You didn’t know you were his, and you didn’t realise it yet, but he was yours as well. It was scaring him a little, but there was nothing he could do to fight off the infatuation he felt for you.

You started to stir up, and for a moment, it felt like you were back in your previous life with your previous boyfriend. But you didn’t recognise his scent nor his touch. You fully remembered what was happening when you heard Bo’s voice whispering a gentle “goo’mornin’” against your cheek.

You hated his touch so much, but you knew you needed to be smart, so you didn’t push him away. And when he tilted your head for a kiss, you didn’t jerk away. You even answered the kiss back, which made him smile against your lips. He seemed rested and relaxed, like you had never seen him before. And you hated it too. You didn’t want to give him what he wanted, but it was your only chance to escape. You needed him to fully let his guards down. He stroked your cheek and you kissed his palm, like you used to do with the man you loved. It was easy to reproduce those gestures you knew by heart; it was simply making you want to throw up. Bo’s smile widened and his eyes lit up.

“Cuddly in the mornin’, ain’t we?” he commented and his words stabbed you in the chest because your now dead boyfriend used to call you a “cuddly kitten” when you were loving on him in the morning. You simply shrugged. “We need to agree on some rules” Bo continued as he settled on his back and brought you against his chest.

“What rules?” you asked with a raised eyebrow as you moved your hand on his torso

“Simple ones. One: for the moment, ya ain’t leavin’ the house, except if ya’re with me. Two: ya ain’t tryin’ to get people to “save” ya and ya ain’t tryin’ to run away. Three: ya start talkin’ to me.” he said.

“I start talking to you? What about?” you hummed, confused by the last rule.

“‘Bout what ya wanna from me to be a good boyfriend to ya” he explained without looking at you. It seemed it was embarrassing him to be so straightforward about his own desires and needs, but he wanted things to work out. He was certain you were the love of his life, so he couldn’t screw this up. You wanted to tell him that a “good boyfriend” wouldn’t kill people, but you knew he wouldn’t like those words so you stayed silent instead, which made him sighed. You looked up at him and he cupped your face in one hand. “It starts now” he hummed with a little frown. It was obvious Bo didn’t like being disobeyed, even by you, so you nodded.

“What am I allowed to do in the house?” you asked

“Anythin’ ya wanna. Just don’t go into the basement. It’s Vinny’s place, ya know it. Otherwise, ya can even redecorate the whole place if it can cheer ya up” he said as he leaned to brush your noses together “I’d like to see your smile again” he confessed and you had to admit it surprised you

“How so?” you heard yourself say

“When ya arrived, ya were a ray of sunshine, always laughin’ and smilin’. Just miss it” he murmured

“You killed my people” you coldly replied, before you could stop yourself, and you tried to get up but Bo was stronger than you. He forced you against his chest as he hummed in thought.

“Shouldn’t ya be happy I saved ya then?” he replied, he sounded a little bit annoyed now, but it was because he had hoped for another answer from you, he had hoped you would have seen how much he wanted you to be happy by his side.

“You could have let all of us go” you said back

“Nah, couldn’t do that; I need ya here” he kissed the top of your head

“That’s why you killed him” you murmured, your throat tight like always when you were thinking about your boyfriend. You wanted to cry, but you couldn’t do that in the arms of the man who murdered him.

“He wasn’t good enough for ya anyway. I mean he didn’t notice when I kidnapped ya, and he wasn’t strong enough to protect ya.” Bo defended his action, tightening his hold on you. He wasn’t too happy to talk about your ex boyfriend. He wanted to pretend he had never existed.

“Oh and you are strong enough to protect me?” you asked, trying not to sound too bitter or harsh but Bo heard it

“I’m a killer, baby. The safest place’s by my side.” he groaned and you let escape such a broken and sad laughter that it felt like a dagger piercing through his heart. It wasn’t the laughter he had needed to hear more than anything. His rising anger instantly died down in his chest to be replaced by pure sadness. He forced a kiss on your mouth to make you stop. You didn’t have the strength to answer it but you didn’t try to break it either.

“I’m scared of you. You killed the people I loved, with the help of your family. You are forcing me to stay in your house. You even kept me tied up in your bed for weeks. And I should believe that I’m safe with you?” you asked

“Ya are. Ya just ain’t seein’ it yet” Bo simply replied. “I promise ya, baby. Ya’re safe here, and I’ll make ya happy. One day, ya’ll even forget that any of those people ever existed, especially that man you used to kiss. Now all your kisses are mine, and only mine.” he possessively whispered to you.

But not my smile. You thought.

Bo finally got up and went to work. After last night and the way he had been able to cuddle with you in the morning, he had believed that things would go more smoothly with you but it wasn’t fully the case yet. At least you were letting him kiss, hell you were even answering his kisses. And you weren’t going to run away anymore for the moment. He was certain things were finally getting better, even if he still needed to be patient with you.

You freely wandered into the house, and Vincent checked on you a few times. Bo told him about the new rules, so the masked twin didn’t try to stop you from walking around. You fully discovered the place and you wondered how the boys could live in a house that seemed so out of time. Everything was so old, and some rooms were really dirty. At first, you told yourself it wasn’t your job to take care of a house that wasn’t even yours. But in the end, you just couldn’t stand not doing anything about it. You were bored out of your mind and you thought that cleaning up might help you feel better, and make this house more bearable for you. You started with the kitchen because there was no way you would keep eating food coming from somewhere that wasn’t completely cleaned. Vincent was a little bit surprised to see you doing the dishes and then sanitising every surface of the room, but he didn’t complain.

At the end of the day, you had done the kitchen and the living room. It felt like the house was all new and a lot more liveful. When Bo entered the house, with Lester, they both stopped in their tracks in surprise. They looked around, shocked. You heard the front door so you quickly joined them in the entrance.

“New rules guys, you remove your fucking shoes from my cleaned up floor” you pointed at their boots and they both looked at you in pure bewilderment. Bo felt warmth spreading inside his chest at the idea of you taking possession of his house so he quickly obeyed and he elbowed his kid brother for him to do the same.

You went back into the kitchen, satisfied with them.

You were so tired that day that you fell asleep in Bo’s arms without a fight and Bo rested with a smile on his lips. He would have enjoyed some cuddles, but he liked how he didn’t need to force you to rest against him.

You spent the whole week cleaning up the house. You decluttered it and you often asked for help from Vincent when you needed to move a piece of furniture around or when you wanted him to agree for you to throw away something that had been rotting for decades in a drawer. The boys truly enjoyed it, and it allowed you to stop thinking about the mess you were in. You also started to enjoy the place a lot more now and you knew it like the back of your hand, which could help when it would be time to escape. Plus, you were too tired at night to even have to cuddle with Bo, so it was really a win-win situation, even if a part of yourself was truly hating you were playing the angel of the house for them. At least, you weren’t making food; Bo was always the one making it and it was better than you wanted to admit it.

The three brothers praised you for your hard word, and you were a little bit surprised by how genuine they sounded. It was true that every time you asked Vincent’s help, he had always let go of whatever he was doing downstairs, to come to you (you were knocking at his basement door when you needed something, so you didn’t have to go down). Bo couldn’t stop himself from kissing your cheeks and shoulders. He loved how domestic it felt to be in a house you were making yours. Lester enjoyed how calm the twins seemed now you were around. Bo hadn’t yelled in so long; his whole attention was on you and his mind was solely focused on making you happy, so his anger was quietening down. He didn’t want you to see him like a violent man anymore either, so he was careful.

With the house all cleaned up, Bo took a day off work so he could spend it with you. He wanted to “reward” you. Truth to be told, you would have much preferred for him to go to work. The man was the clingiest, and he kept you in his arms all day, kissing and cuddling with you. You let him do without a fight, trying your best to not enjoy the constant attention.

You didn’t want to admit it, but if Bo hadn’t killed your people and if you hadn’t met him the way you did… You might have seen him as boyfriend material. You had often pouted at your ex because he wasn’t indulging you in a day full of cuddles, even when you were asking for it. And you were often arguing because you wanted more of his attention. Deep down, you had wanted someone to be a little bit obsessed with you and to see you like a divinity. You had never found this in anyone, and you had tried to convince yourself it was because only toxic love could give you this. At the same time, you hated that you were finding qualities in Bo’s behaviour towards you, and flaws in your ex boyfriend’s.

However one thing didn’t change: your ex was capable of making you laugh and smile. Bo couldn’t. And it was killing him, like a poison burning inside of his veins.

Each night, he was asking himself what he could have done better that day, so you would have smiled at him, even for a few seconds. He never found the answer, and it seemed like he couldn’t make you obey the third rule. He promised himself he would need to find a way. He was certain that the moment you would relax and laugh around him, you would realise you were meant to be.

--

PART III

--

Taglist: @lacychick ; @adalwolfgang ; @hollabackgrl ; @number1120 ; @the-number7 ; @hisokas-cardz ; @iwantsleepplz

[onecantsimply]

drunk!husband x reader for Jack, Hermes, Hercules respectively when they had just a bit too much and then see their wife?

Bet-

-

ℍ𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕝𝕖𝕤:

• I can imagine this man getting home with Ares helping him, and you’re just standing there with a blink. You were probably trying to eat a treat or drink tea until the door burst open, with Ares walking in after saying a small “excuse us.”

• He and Heracles were most likely drinking after a successful job, which must have been quite important if the two had the time to celebrate.

• Heracles really didn’t do much until you peeked over at him, and he saw you. Both of you blinked for a moment before he immediately had you in his arms, already confessing his love for you. Even if he was already your significant other. Married, too.

• Still, you of course accepted his confession, making him somehow slur his laugh. You may have heard him cry a little bit but you ain’t telling him until tomorrow morning- Even if you tried to pull away to get water for him, Heracles has clung to your begging for you to stay with him.

• How could you say no to that man when he was straight up begging?

• So, you stayed with him until he had fell asleep, and prepared some things that could sober him up. You placed some water by his desk, and placed the blanket over him before getting in bed with him again.

• He already had you in his grip again, hugging you as if you were a type of teddy bear. Yet, it seemed normal, so you had slept steadily and safely that night.

• The next day, you were helping Heracles sober up, teasing him about how he was while drunk. He seemed embarrassed about it, naturally.

𝕁𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℝ𝕚𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕣:

• He had come in with Hermes escorting him. Both males seemed drunk, but the God seemed to have more control than Jack did, surprisingly. You had quickly rushed over to see what the matter was until Jack had softly grabbed your hand, gently kissing it.

• He asked you to marry him, clearly not seeing the ring on your finger. Hermes never even got to explain anything, as he was already outside, and ready to go home.

• Back to you and Jack, you had arched an eyebrow, and told him of how you two were already married. He pulled the shocked Pikachu face before clinging onto you, thanking the Lord for sending you to him.

• You could only giggle at how he was before he looked at you with seemingly confused eyes. He then clung to you once more, now praising you and thanking you for marrying someone like him with teary eyes. However, before he could do anything other than hug you, you had him drink water.

• That seemed to sober him up enough, judging from how he was sitting by the table, keeping his hand over his head from the hangover that seemed to occur within his brain. He reeked of alcohol, and he didn’t like that-

• Yet, he felt amused when you had sat next to him, now explaining how he was while drunk. He now felt embarrassed, but had expressed how genuinely grateful he was for someone like you.

• He could only kiss your forehead before you told him to take a bath. He perked up immediately.

ℍ𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕖𝕤:

• He looked as if he had a very long day from taking care of Zeus. But however, it was just drinking with Jack. So while you were possibly reading a book, you heard the door shut and lock. Of course, you walked towards it to greet Hermes, but saw how the man looked.

• He definitely looked like he had been drinking. You could only help him get comfortable, in which he had thanked you for multiple times. He seemed to call you a Goddess for helping him, in which you had only smiled softly.

• That smile only reinforced his opinion on you. You are his Goddess, and shall always be.

• And so, while you had helped him get sobered up with some water, he had only gripped your hand, kissing it like how Gomez Addams called Morticia’s hand a dead fish.

• It was lovely until Hermes drank that water. The headache that came soon after was literally making him feel as if his head were pulsing. Of course, you helped the pain go away, in which he had thanked you for.

• He reminded himself to never drink again, in which he knew Jack would possibly agree in.

[edenmemes]

red dead redemption 1 starters

❝ it’s wanting that gets so many folks in trouble. ❞ ❝ it ain’t no secret i didn’t get these scars falling over in church. ❞ ❝ if you win power, remember why you wanted it. ❞ ❝ you do a man wrong, he’ll shoot you for it. you do a man right…well, he still may shoot you for it. ❞ ❝ trust me. there’s things you’re better off not knowing. ❞ ❝ you remind me a lot of myself. how i used to be. stubborn and angry. ❞ ❝ i hope you will give me some warning if you get the sudden urge to kill me. ❞ ❝ my side wasn’t chosen. my side was given. ❞ ❝ a little sore, but apart from a couple extra scars, it will be as nothing happened. ❞ ❝ i don’t think you’re a bad person. a little stupid perhaps, but not rotten. ❞ ❝ i certainly don’t mind you asking, if you don’t mind me not telling. ❞ ❝ you are being deliberately obscure as a substitute for having a personality. ❞ ❝ so do tell me, have you needlessly risked your life since we last spoke? ❞ ❝ i came into this world fighting. and i’ll go out of it fighting. ❞ ❝ i hear you speak and suddenly i'm reminded of how the people i respected most in my life had a problem with authority. ❞ ❝ you're looking much better. considering you were almost buzzard food a couple days ago. ❞ ❝ power is like a drink. the more you have, the more you want. ❞ ❝ people don’t forget. nothing gets forgiven. ❞ ❝ sometimes in the service of what is right, you got to do terrible things. ❞ ❝ you have quite a story. i really am a little jealous. ❞ ❝ old friends make the worst enemies. ❞ ❝ i had everything, and gave it up in the pursuit of nothing. ❞ ❝ hah. you were always bad at lying. ❞ ❝ i’m not going to stand by and watch good people suffer. ❞ ❝ some trees flourish, others die. some cattle grow strong, others are taken by wolves. some men are born rich enough and dumb enough to enjoy their lives. ain't nothing fair. you know that. ❞ ❝ if you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop digging. ❞ ❝ now, if you don't mind, i'd hate to spoil such a beautiful afternoon on such beautiful land with any further unpleasantries. ❞ ❝ i, too, have a family, friend. and so that we may see our families again i suggest we part ways amicably. ❞ ❝ sometimes i tell myself that everything happens for a reason. ❞ ❝ i see the good in everybody. it’s a flaw of mine. ❞ ❝ well, try not to get yourself killed. ❞ ❝ see if you can keep your gun holstered for once. ❞ ❝ i don’t pay much attention to rumors. ❞ ❝ i swear, if it was down to me, i’d never have gone anywhere. ❞ ❝ lock all the doors. whatever happens, don’t come outside. you hear me? whatever happens. ❞ ❝ what would you care? i’m just a nuisance to you anyway. ❞ ❝ i’ve been hearing some things about you. ❞ ❝ i would rather be dead than a cynic like you. ❞ ❝ damn, a little gratitude wouldn’t kill you. ❞ ❝ trust me, i ain’t no hero. ❞ ❝ as it turns out, it's you or me. the way i see it, might as well be you. ❞ ❝ you live in a dream world. it ain’t like they tell it in books. ❞ ❝ i’m asking you to do what i say, before you get yourself killed. ❞ ❝ those who sit on the fence make a choice…in their own way. ❞ ❝ i’d do anything for you, you know that. ❞ ❝ better watch your mouth, my friend. i've cut out a man's tongue for less. ❞ ❝ there's nothing worse than a nobody thinking he's a somebody. ❞ ❝ you got it all wrong. i’ve always loved you, even now. ❞ ❝ what the hell were you thinking, going off on your own? ❞ ❝ first impressions are hard to erase. ❞ ❝ it’s a long story. too long to tell without a drink in my hand. ❞ ❝ i’m not angry. i’m disappointed. ❞ ❝ you know me. i’ll be late to my own funeral. ❞ ❝ that tone of voice ain’t so becoming on you. makes you seem all pent up and angry. ❞ ❝ you think i don’t know who you are. ❞ ❝ why don’t i get a warm and tender embrace? ❞ ❝ what do you want me to say? yippee? ❞ ❝ there’s always a choice. you’re just too blind to see. ❞ ❝ you’re not ready for that yet. one step at a time. ❞ ❝ every time you go off, i worry you’re not coming back. ❞ ❝ it didn’t have to be this way. ❞ ❝ come on now. try to look on the bright side. ❞

❝ after all i taught you…i’m ashamed. ❞ ❝ it’s easy to make promises you can never keep. ❞ ❝ we all make mistakes. i never claimed to be a saint. ❞ ❝ how does it feel to kill hundreds of men in cold blood? ❞ ❝ it ain’t the first time i had a gun to my head. ❞ ❝ you’re not perfect, and i’m sure not. but you’re better than they are. ❞ ❝ you alright? you’re not hurt, are you? ❞ ❝ this really couldn’t have gone more horribly wrong. ❞ ❝ you’re just like me. you can’t change who you are. ❞ ❝ my whole life, all i ever did was fight. ❞ ❝ you’re in no position to make demands. ❞ ❝ the bright side? there ain’t no bright side. ❞ ❝ my heart’s beating like a drum. ❞ ❝ are you sure you’re alright? i mean, i know all that business must have been hard on you. ❞ ❝ you’ll make me blush with all these kind words. ❞ ❝ i never took you for the jealous type. ❞ ❝ come now, you’re stupid, but you’re not that stupid. ❞ ❝ you’re weak. you always were. you never had the stomach for this. ❞ ❝ seems real quiet, don’t you think? ❞ ❝ you were always a hard and nasty man. ❞ ❝ see, i have nothing but your best intentions at heart. ❞ ❝ don’t talk about things you don’t understand. ❞ ❝ i guess there’s only one room for one hero in this family. ❞ ❝ for a wise man, you are a really stupid man. ❞ ❝ what would have happened if i hadn’t come along? ❞ ❝ you must have mistaken me for someone else, friend. ❞ ❝ you ain’t very talkative, are you? ❞ ❝ we cannot be too careful. the world is very dangerous. ❞ ❝ no, i’m not okay. do i look like i’m okay? ❞ ❝ you are so tense all the time. come, let’s have some fun! ❞ ❝ i will stay and fight. i am ready to die if necessary. ❞ ❝ i know i can’t change the past but i’m sure gonna do something about the future. ❞ ❝ i’ve given you no reason not to trust me. ❞ ❝ choose your tone rightly. remember who you’re talking to. ❞ ❝ there are guards everywhere. if they see you, they will kill you. ❞ ❝ it was nothing. i’m not a kid any more.❞ ❝ a lonely, forsaken place. some people say it’s haunted. ❞ ❝ i’m not sure your idea of paradise and mine are the same. ❞ ❝ maybe if you were more cordial to folks, they’d be better inclined to help you. ❞ ❝ i’ve been in far worse situations. ❞ ❝ you have the exterior of a violent man, but the soul of an angel. ❞ ❝ you’re not gonna pass out on me, are you? ❞ ❝ you’re no better. how many men have you killed? ❞ ❝ stay alert. something doesn’t feel right. ❞

❝ i'm going to hand you over to them and watch them tear you limb from limb…i'm just kidding. ❞ ❝ you love to talk badly of other people because it makes you feel better about yourself. ❞ ❝ it’s been a pleasure spending time with you. ❞ ❝ that’s a lot of sacrifice. i just hope it’s worth it. ❞ ❝ i’m not cut out for this. no, not cut out for this at all. ❞ ❝ i don’t need you to show me. ❞ ❝ men are born, and then they're formed. at least, that’s how i see it. ❞ ❝ a little flattery…now we’re finally getting somewhere. ❞ ❝ i thought you were supposed to be fearless. ❞ ❝ you are a man who has lost his spirit. ❞ ❝ if you were less secretive, people might be more inclined to trust you. ❞ ❝ me mean me no harm? this is funny. what harm could you do to me, exactly? ❞ ❝ come on, after everything we’ve been through, i think we can trust each other, don’t you? ❞ ❝ i can’t rightly believe it. just like in the books. ❞ ❝ i didn’t ask for your help back there. i owe you nothing. ❞ ❝ be careful. what’s stopping me from killing you? ❞ ❝ one day, i promise you, you’re gonna regret this. ❞ ❝ you know i’ll do whatever i can, but i have problems of my own. ❞ ❝ what would you know about leadership? ❞ ❝ you make a choice by not making a choice, you know. ❞ ❝ hold your excuses until you figure out which one to use. ❞ ❝ i'll give you a bad case of "someone just shot me in the head" if you don't hurry up. ❞ ❝ being honest though, this tastes bad enough to kill a man. ❞ ❝ do i look like i need saving? ❞ ❝ sarcasm should be beneath a man such as you. ❞ ❝ are you always this stupid or are you making an extra effort today? ❞ ❝ i don’t like to kill a man on his knees, even if he deserves it. ❞ ❝ don't forget you need me more than i need you. ❞ ❝ i’ll hunt you to hell and back. ❞ ❝ you’d best not be lying to me. ❞ ❝ let's get going. before the weather gets any worse. that sky don't look good.. ❞ ❝ thank you for telling me all that back there. it must have been hard for you. ❞ ❝ i know we ain't exactly old pals, but…have i ever done you wrong? ❞ ❝ your nobility's almost as affecting as your naivety. ❞ ❝ you are a romantic who wants to be a cynic. ❞ ❝ i apologize if i seem to be prying. ❞ ❝ strange place for a decent person to visit, if you don't mind me saying. ❞ ❝ well, you must admit…it's an unusual start to a friendship. ❞ ❝ i can’t really say i understand you. ❞ ❝ every man has a right to change, a chance of forgiveness. ❞ ❝ hello, old friend. it’s been a long time. ❞ ❝ i hope you understand now why i've been playing my cards somewhat close to my chest. ❞ ❝ nobody made my path but me. ❞ ❝ it’ll be a piece of cake. trust me. ❞ ❝ oh, don’t be so deliberately enigmatic. ❞ ❝ my word, what a difficult life you’ve lived. ❞ ❝ you have a strange sense of humor. ❞ ❝ stay and fight me, you coward. ❞ ❝ i ain't planning on staying very long. ❞

[tenderleavesbob]

Whumptober 13/31

No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | “Death will do us part.” (Set It Off, Partner’s In Crime)

Warriors was missing. Twilight still had no idea if he had fallen into a trap like Wild or if something had taken him.

His cub was missing. Twilight didn’t know if he was hurt or what dangers were on the other side of that trap. Twilight didn’t know anything.

Time, his ancestor and mentor, was hurt, and he was hurt because of Twilight. He was hurt and a destroyed tunnel was between him and Twilight. Twilight couldn’t check on him or Wind or Hyrule.

Legend was hurt. Twilight had taken off his pelt and wrapped it around Legend’s thin shoulders, but Legend was still shivering. Better than before, but still shaking. Twilight knew to watch for signs of shock, but he wasn’t very good at it. He just knew there were too many types of battle shock, and he was tired of seeing his loved ones suffer from all of them.

Four was wounded, and Twilight only had half a potion to give him. Wild had the rest of their potions in his Slate, their healer was on the other side of the destroyed tunnel, and their medic was missing. Four seemed well enough to smack away Sky’s hands, at least. Twilight took some comfort in that.

Sky… his brother didn’t seem hurt, but the awful anguish in his eyes made him seem like he was bleeding out, anyway. There was pain and guilt twisting his face as he checked over Four’s bruises and Legend’s side. Twilight wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. If it was anyone’s, it was Twilight’s. He was supposed to have such good senses and he didn’t notice when their brother went missing or when Wild ran into danger or when he was setting off a bleeding trap --

Assigning blame wouldn’t help any of them none, though. Not now, anyway. Twilight swallowed back his pained whines and held them close. He would do his best to keep holding them close until he and Wars could huddle in some hole in the wall somewhere and grieve and drink so much they could both pretend they didn’t remember nothin’ the next day.

They had to find Wars first. Find his cub. Get out of here.

“I’m fine,” Four was insisting, shoving Sky’s hands away again. He grabbed his dirty tunic and tugged it back on. His fading bruises vanished under the colorful fabric. “Legend’s resting. We’re okay.” Four glared at Sky and Twilight. “What about you two? I haven’t seen either of you check for injuries yet.”

Twilight backed away from Four’s sharp eyes and raised his hands. There was no denying that Four was small, but badgers were small, too. “I ain’t hurt none,” he said quickly. He should be. He should be the one burned, not Time. Never Time. He should be the one bleeding, not Legend.

“I’m fine, too,” Sky said. He looked pale and tired, all of his hurts tucked close.

Like Twilight’s. Like Warriors’s. Like Time’s and…

Sometimes, Twilight thought that Fate didn’t like their little family none.

Sky was fine, all right. Just like the rest of them.

“We’re all just peachy,” Legend croaked, and Twilight barked a laugh. Hero minds thought alike, he guessed. “Give me a second and I’ll be good to go.”

The remnants of Twilight’s laughter died in his throat. He met Sky’s serious, grieving eyes. Sky shouldn’t look that way, but none of them should look like they looked today.

“I can --” Twilight started.

“Shut up, Twilight,” three voices said. Twilight shut his mouth. Guilt swelled his throat shut. They had a point. Look at the last couple of times he ran off as Wolfie. He still had the scar on his torso.

Would Time have scars from this? Like Wild and Warriors?

“We can’t stay here,” Legend insisted. His voice shook when he spoke, and he looked angry enough to spit nails. “We need to find the others.”

Legend was right, but it was hard to admit it with Legend’s blood staining his clothes and the scent of iron still in Twilight’s nose. Wild and Warriors needed them.

Right then, Twilight thought that they desperately needed Wild and Warriors, too.

First | Previous | Next

[pink-bandana-writes]

Margaritas and Misunderstandings

Raphael x Reader

Summary: Raphael never expected to meet his soulmate, especially not at a college Halloween party.

Notes: I love writing college-age turtles lol and I also really love soulmate aus and haven’t written any on this blog yet, so enjoy! Let me know if you want more parts to this one, I really like Raph and reader’s dynamic here.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing

Word Count: 2k

Reader Is: In college, female

Raphael had been convinced the words on his arm were a joke, some cruel reminder the universe had given him that he was unlovable. He wasn’t meant to have a soulmate. Look, he’d urge himself, standing in the mirror. Look at that. Ain’t no one gonna love all that.

The ink had appeared around the time Raph turned eighteen, about a month before his eighteenth birthday, in fact, when his existence was still, for the most part, a secret and every girl he’d interacted with thus far had fainted when they saw him, April included, though she was now a very dear friend of theirs. He was twenty-one now. He and his brothers were going to a human college on the surface, slowly but surely integrating themselves into human society.

Raph had been convinced, really truly convinced, that the words on his arm still didn’t mean anything, couldn’t mean anything. Until Leo met his soulmate, that was.

He remembered the frantic message to the group chat the brothers shared. Leo was at the library. The others were en route to study with him, but he’d gotten out of class before the others. Sure enough, he’d bumped into some quiet little bookworm in the library and said the words on her wrist, causing her to say exactly what was written on Leo’s in return.

That had been a few months before, right at the beginning of the school year. Leo was dating her now, obviously. Her name was Isabella and Raph thought she was…nice. It kinda made him sick how perfect she and Leo were together. Just reminded him how alone he was, but more than that, it stirred up the anxiety deep in the pit of his stomach, the constant reminder that he did have a soulmate and someday…they’d look him in the eye and say “Shit, I’m so sorry!”

Even if he did have a soulmate. Even if they did find him someday, what was the point? It seemed like they weren’t very happy to see him, whoever they were.

So Raph went about his life, trying to ignore the words on his wrist as best as he could, dreading the day when his soulmate would reject him, just as he knew they always would.

***

“Hey, (Y/N), you’re coming to the Halloween party this weekend, right? It’s at the Sigma House.” Your roommate said, sitting across from you at the library. Her name was Lindsay and she was a pretty blonde girl majoring in criminal justice. She was going to be a lawyer someday, ala Elle Woods and wanted to do her best to make the world a better place.

“I don’t know about that.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “You remember what happened at their homecoming party, right? I’m not much of a party girl, apparently…”

“Oh nonsense, you learned your lesson. You’re still just…learning your limits, is all. Gotta build up that tolerance somehow.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, from right beside the toilet maybe.”

“What, like lightning’s gonna strike twice? It’s Halloween! It’ll be fun! Plus, where else are you gonna wear your cute lil’ costume? It’s not like we can go trick or treating anymore.”

“Valid point.” You shrugged and chewed on the end of your straw. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“YESSSSS! I’m texting Isabella. She’s bringing Leonardo.”

“Ah yes, the elusive Leonardo.” You took a sip from your iced coffee. “Supposedly he has three brothers that all go here too, but I swear I haven’t seen any of them except him the, what, two times we’ve met him.”

“I think he’s nice.”

“I think he’s nice too, but you’d think it would be easier to spot them out and about.” You chuckled. “Oh never mind, I spoke too soon.”

“Where.” Lindsay turned around, catching a glimpse of the large, hulking turtle walking into the library, side by side with a slightly smaller turtle carrying a skateboard.

“Don’t look too fast, oh my god.”

“Ooh. He’s…”

“Hot.”

“I was gonna say ‘big’ but yeah, that works too.” Lindsay giggled. “Oh my god, (Y/N), I didn’t know you were into that. You know, I saw that Ice Planet Barbarians book at the B&N in the mall if you—”

“Shut up!” You hit her playfully with the book you had sitting on the table.

The large turtle in the red flannel caught your eye and smirked, giving a little half-wave. You waved back, cheeks fully flushed from your conversation with Lindsay.

“Oh my god he just waved at you. Oh my god!”

“Shut upppp!” You rolled your eyes, sliding down your seat.

***

The Sigma Halloween Bash finally arrived and you slipped into your costume, Raven from Teen Titans, right down to the cape you’d spent the better part of a day sewing yourself.

You looked over yourself in the mirror. You looked hot, you admitted, admiring yourself in the costume. It was no wonder she was everyone’s first cartoon crush.

“You ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.” You turned around to face Isabella, who was dressed as Belle from Beauty and the Beast. “Aww, you look cute!”

“Thanks! It was Leo’s idea.”

“Speaking of whom…are the boys coming over here first or…?”

“They’re meeting us there. Lindsay told me you guys saw Raph, huh?”

“Oh yeah. Forgot about that.” Your cheeks reddened at the mere mention of his name. “Raph, huh?”

“Raphael. He’s…nice. I don’t think he likes me all that much, but Leo says he gets better once you get to know him.”

“One of those.” You nodded. “Good to know in case I run into him completely shitfaced. Try to make a good impression.”

“Good luck with that.” Isabella chuckled, ushering you downstairs so you and your other roommates would walk the few blocks to the party.

For Halloween, it was pretty warm outside with a nice breeze, costumed college kids marching down every sidewalk to find whatever party they were headed for. And, as usual, you were following the biggest stream of kids, straight into the Sigma house.

The music was deafening and the second you stepped inside, one of the drunk frat guys handed each of you a can of White Claw, which you grimaced at and handed to Lindsay, who took it with a smile. Instead, you set out in search of a Margarita, the one drink you knew you liked, thus far. Your search was successful. You poured yourself a glass of the sweet lime drink and found your roommates again.

“There she is!” Lindsay pulled you to her and spun you around as you sipped from your drink. “You find your Marg?”

“Always.”

“The boys are on the way.” Isabella reported, bobbing along to the music while reading from her phone. “Should be any—Oh, there they are! Leo!” She waded through the crowd, pushing her way to the giant turtle who was dressed in the Beast’s suit from Beauty and the Beast. That was cute.

Raph wandered into the kitchen and out of your sight, but not before you saw the large foam spikes taped to his shell. He was dressed as Bowser. That was really funny, actually.

The party continued and you had a second margarita. You were deciding on whether or not to grab a third and then decided to commit when you saw him still hanging around the kitchen.

So, tipsy as ever, you walked through the frat house to the kitchen and poured yourself yet another drink.

“Ayo Raven! You look good did you make that yourself?” asked the shortest of the turtles, although he still stood at least six feet tall.

“I did! Thank you so much! I loved the show as a kid.”

He grinned. “I did too. I’m Mikey, by the way. You’re Isabella’s roommate, right?”

“I am indeed. (Y/N).”

“Well, (Y/N), it’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too!” You beamed, scanning the kitchen. Huh, not sight of Raphael. You wondered where he’d gone. You thought for a moment and second-guessed your third margarita for the night, decided to get a glass of ice water instead.

When you walked back out to the other room, you found him alright, stumbling right into him and spilling your water all over him.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” You apologized, looking up at him. He stared back down at you, his eyes wide.

“It’s you? Yer…Wow, I just, uh…I…I didn’t think it would be you.” He stammered, reading through the words that had been etched onto your wrist since high school. You rolled up your sleeve, glancing down at them to be sure before looking back up at him, sobering up almost instantly.

“You’re my soulmate.” You whispered, starstruck in his presence.

“Let me get ya some more water, alright?” He offered, taking the empty solo cup from you, his giant hand gentler than you could have ever imagined it to be. “I’ll be right back.”

“O-Okay.” You nodded, still, for lack of better word, shell-shocked where you stood, the world crumbling around you until he finally came back with another cup of water.

He handed it to you and you were sure you were gonna drop that one, too, but you didn’t, miraculously, holding onto it for dear life. “You wanna get some air?”

“Yeah.” You nodded.

Tentatively, Raphael offered his hand to you in the crowded room. He didn’t expect you to take it. In no reality could he imagine this pretty girl dressed as a superhero to take his hand, but you did, slipping your hand into his and letting him lead you out into the backyard.

The sounds of the party faded away. There were a few people out on the deck making out, but the grass was wide open, the perfect spot to get away from all the noise in there.

You were both quiet for a while, your heart hammering in your chest as you sat down next to him. You took a long sip of water, chasing the edge of the margarita away.

“So uh…it’s okay if ya…uh…I shoulda practiced this.” He shook his head, letting out a pathetic chuckle. “I get it, I mean, if yer not…into me. I saw ya laughin’ at me at the library the other day.”

“Oh fuck, no I wasn’t I…kind of the opposite, actually.” You admitted, counting your blessings you had some liquid courage in your body for this conversation. “I’m Isabella’s roommate. Lindsay and I both are and I…I just kinda blurted out that you were hot and she…she was making fun of me, not you. I’d never make fun of you.”

“Wait, you…” He grinned, amused. “Yer not serious.”

“I am, I swear.” You laughed, pulling your cape around yourself. “I like your costume, by the way.”

“Heh. Yeah, thanks. Low effort costumes are kinda my forte.” He shrugged. “Mikey did the spikes for me. Was kinda hopin’ you’d show up dressed as Princess Peach, to be honest.”

“You still wanted me to be the Peach to your Bowser even when you thought I was making fun of you?” You asked, pouting up at him. “Raph…”

“I wouldn’t’a held it against ya even if you were.” He shrugged. “Hell, my own sister passed out the first time she met the four of us.”

“You have a sister?”

“Her name’s April. We ain’t blood, but we are family.” He smiled. “I’d like ta introduce her to ya someday. If ya want, of course. I’m…I ain’t ever done this before.”

“Well you’re doing great.”

“Ya don’t have to lie.” He nudged you playfully.

“I’m not.” You giggled, nudging him back. “You are doing great.”

“You still drunk?”

“Not much.”

“Mmm.”

“What?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Those margaritas might be clouding ya judgement, shorty.”

“They are not.” You giggled, reaching for his arm, which he gladly gave to you. You grabbed onto him, a little cold now that you’d been out there for a bit.

“If ya need me to warm ya up, I can’t. I’m cold-blooded.”

“Oh right. That’s okay.”

“Ya wanna go back inside?”

“No.” You shook your head. “I just wanna sit out here with you for a while.”

He smiled, withdrawing his arm and putting it around you instead. He rested his head against yours, letting out a long breath as you sat beneath the stars. “I like that plan.”

Tags: @thelaundrybitch, @turtle-babe83, @dilucsflame33, @happymoonangel, @leleouwu

[rreskk]

CHERISHED

Summary: You were still working at the Vanilla Unicorn with no hopes of changing your life around. Being older, more limited with your body, the job itself was a dead end until a new customer came to admire your presence. It was later known that he had a thing for… older ladies:

TW: Smut

Pairings: older fem!reader/ Trevor Philips

Word count: 2768

You were getting to that age now where sex work was no longer an accessible source of your income. All your co-workers, so youthful, within their early 20s; rare if you find any in their 30s and older. The rarity, you are included. The more years you worked, the less customers you were getting. The city life adored younger energy than people your age. On your average night, you’ll find men either too young or way too old. It’s getting harder with every passing day. Now it’s hard to keep up with the looks. The dresses your body once suited, it’s all damned. It’s hard dressing exotic when the preferences are clear skin, tiny waists, great legs, great boobs.

However, one time you were doing your usual routines. While serving a table of six as they ogled the stage filled with dancing women, you found yourself looking up at the entrance. A man walked in and you had never seen him before. Balding hair, dirty clothes, face full of fury, hands covered in muck. This was not the usual customer.

You observed him from afar before a supervisor whistled for your attention. He glared and pointed to the man, urging you to engage in your work and greet him “sensually.” Usually you’re fine, but something about him seemed eery. So you slowly approaching him, swaying your hips, a clog deep in your throat.

He caught your eye within an instance.

Before you could stand an arm’s length away, the guy stared down at your appearance, his face falling into a smuggest grin. He waited until you were in front and was the first to speak – a very unusual characteristics for a regular customer.

“Hey, gorgeous.” He murmured with a slight groan, like he was savouring his words.

“Could I help you with anything?” You managed to choke out despite feeling silly. It was hard acting youthful in front of a hefty guy. You wanted to cut the bullshit and act your age, but it would cause great losses to your work performances.

The man’s tongue sat on his bottom lip when you vocalised. He listened and stared intently, waiting as you finish your question and hummed thoughtfully. There was something creepy about how “respectful” he was being. While being all gentleman-like, his eyes don’t lie. He was looking through your clothes and visualising whatever he fantasied. You knew enough to recognise it.

“I wouldn’t want to waste your time, beautiful.”

Again with the nicknames. Your cheeks flushed. You haven’t of been complimented since your early 30s, it was flattering!

“It is my job. I ensure you, my time will not be wasted.” You tried to alure that typical sex-worker act but he see the real you.

“What do you have to offer?” The man leaned close, his nose inches from yours. His breath was absolutely disgusting. You held back a cough and closed your eyes for a moment, regaining focus and energy after the long shift. He felt your exhaustion and grumbled deep in his throat. “You ain’t had a break yet?”

It felt embarrassing to have your tiredness called out, especially by a customer. You sighed and felt his hands graze your wrist.

“What’s a gorgeous woman like you rotting in a place like this for? Don’t you got a husband at home? Kids?”

“I- Uh. I got one kid. He’s round his father’s at the moment...”

He watched your lips when you spoke and pulled you a tad closer. He was very touchy for a man who just walked in. Customers are usually all bark, never grabby, but this guy? He was both, in the most absurd way. He was what, a few years younger than you? Roughly?

“Mmm, not married?” His voice whispered with tainted excitement.

You shook your head with discomfort.

“Awh. I ain’t asking for too much, sugar. I’m just wondering why a lovely lady like you is still working hard. You should be resting at home, getting your back massaged… Rained with…” His eyes bored onto your chest, “affection, and such…”

“How can I help you, sir?” You forced yourself to respond to the client/customer limitation and advised him to depart from the personal subjects. However, your voice was faint and your eyes avoided his.

You heard him snarl at your aloofness before sucking it in and growing accustomed to your professionality. He gave you a tight, forced smile then offered his hand. “I wouldn’t mind a dance with you, dear. If that ain’t too much to ask for…”

He was danger. You were hesitant and stared at his hand before taking it. He was weirding you out hugely.

Passing the curtains, you reached the small dancing booths and picked the closest to the door. You gestured him to sit and, with a blink of an eye, he was sat there, legs apart, manspreading and rubbing his thighs with this boyish smirk. The man looked at you like you were delivering Santa’s presents on Christmas morning. His eyes worshipped the shape of your body and when the curtains were closed, you slowly stripped for him, feeling his burning desires inspect every detail.

Despite the heaviness of your tired, achy limbs, you managed to go through a few routines that included the least amount of skin to skin contact. You felt him outline your hips a few times when moving over his lap, but he behaved himself. Surprisingly.

Usually the dance would last double the stamina you had. You were already choking on your breath to avoid expressing the exhaustion as you sensually shake your backside against him. There were so many minutes to go and he was watching you struggle. You staggered backwards a bit until he grasped your waist and stabilised your posture.

“Easy…”

You wanted his hands off. You wanted to finish this dance without him making you slow down. It was stressing you out. The weight of holding so many pressures was backlashing your ability to keep within that youthful practice, unfortunately coming to a stop and leaning against the seat, sighing.

The man rolled his tongue around in spite of the silence and waited to see if you were going to continue before leaning forward, meeting with your gaze.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

You held your breath and looked at him, speechless.

“Take it nice and slow.” His voice vibrated deep in his chest as he kept the volume down.

“I’m trying to.” You argued back.

“Hey, I ain’t fuckin’ judging. I don’t want no stupid dances they do nowadays. They look like doped monkeys.” This made you crack a smile as he took your waist into his hands again, ushering you closer. He pulled you onto his lap and sighed contently. “See. This is just fine… A respectfully beautiful woman on my handsome lap.”

“Respectfully beautiful?”

“I can’t be disrespecting mothers, can’t I? I’m a man. I gotta treat a lady, such as yourself, with royalty and care.”

You gave him a “you serious?” look before glancing down at his lap, seeing how well your thighs felt against his. It was lucky the curtains were tightly closed since physical contact was prohibited, but you couldn’t deny this guy. His touch was weirdly smooth.

“Why don’t you come back with me? I got a condo nearby.”

“I don’t think I should.”

He frowned, “Why?”

“I don’t sleep enough. Them days are over. I’m just getting by.” You tried to explain.

His lap tensed up as he took in every word. There was a body of frustration that tormented him, leaving his system through a sharp and heavy exhale.

His body hoisted at the deepness of his breath before constructing a husky reply.

“I ain’t like the regulars here.” He lowered his tone, “I ain’t gonna blow a load and call it a day. I wanna make you feel good. Older women are to be cherished and I wanna make sure you know that, sweetness. You hear me?” You flinched when he grew passionate, his lap jolting. “I wanna give you the best 2 minutes of your goddamn life!”

A customer has never seemed so desperate for a side-job. Like… Ever. You didn’t know how to react to his enthusiasm, especially for 2 minutes. Now, you interact with men with weak games a lot, but 2 minutes is a new one for you. It made you intrigued. He was so confident in his small game, it was revoltingly attractive.

“I hear you. Loud and clear.”

“Good. Now it’s my turn to hear you loud and clear, honey. Swing by at the back and I’ll pick you up.”

“But – “

“I don’t give a shit.” He raised his voice and stared at you with purpose. “Just grab your things and come meet me.”

You sighed. There was too much responsibility to slack off work for a random guy, but he was too persistent and made you double the curiosity of a regular customer. So you rolled your eyes and nodded.

-

He mentioned his name was Trevor on the journey back to his condo. Like he said, it was a short journey. You reached his condo in less than 10 minutes. It was near the beach, a small 2 bedroom apartment. You’ve been around this area before and It was rather nice! However, you were dragged in by the arm and quickly assembled in one of the bedrooms without the chance to snoop around. There were muffled voices from outside the room but he ensured you to ignore it since it was one of his “roommates.”

It passed your mind despite the weirdness of it all. And before you knew, the situation extended further as clothes were ripped off and he was on top of you, his lips hungrily lurking down your neck like a vampire breaching for a pulse.

“God…” You whispered and wrapped your legs around his hips while your neck was experiencing this wave of sensation. It has been quite some time since you were last sexually active, so this was almost like a new beginning.

Trevor pulled away and looked down at you with an excited smirk. He placed his hands around your thighs, encouraging you to decrease the space between you both. His eyes darted over your body and, unable to control himself, dived onto your lips, pushing you further against the mattress, rough groans leaving his throat and vibrating onto your mouth. You sucked his noises in with pleasure and rocked through the minutes, thankful you accepted his offer.

Once again, he pulled away. This time, he had intentions of doing more.

You grunted when he opened up your legs – pussy on display – inviting him. Trevor’s pants were thrown off with a few kicks and you saw his cock; small, uncircumcised, eager, and bright red with excitement. He warmed himself up. You noticed the way he winced when rubbing his small erection. His hands were too cold and rough. It felt more painful than pleasurable. He looked back at you and went to push in, giving up on the extra mile, but you offered your hand.

Trevor raised an eyebrow at the gesture and murmured. “What?”

Without an answer, you gently took his cock into your palm and stroked it up and down, giving him this nice warm, heavy relaxation that also spiked some adrenaline. When you handled him, Trevor released repetitive low moans where he threw his head back and synced in with the feeling. He softly rocked his hips into your hand before you guided him down, placing the tip against your opening and whispered his name to start.

Trevor hissed when you whispered his name. It felt like a lullaby, a praise. He groped onto your breasts and thrusted, immediately shaking his head and moaning. “Ohh, fuck. Yeah…”  

Now he was fully turned on with the help of your hands. You nibbled your bottom lip and enjoyed the pace he was going at. You both made deep eye-contact during this whole exchange. Your body was being fondled on repeat, but you learnt that it was his way of worshipping your curves and shape. There were hand marks all over your skin, mainly breasts, which he was occupying at the moment, but it was enlightening and you were satisfied. Which is what he wanted.

He noticed your enjoyment and increased his pace. His tongue lapped around his lips as he continued working for your affection and praise. So badly he wanted to hear you say his name again. It made him croak out a beg from his big mouth while under the influence of lust.

“God… Just, say my name…”

You heard him and struggled to speak due to the pleasure. Distorted whispers exceled to silent pants. There was no hope.

“C’mon…” Trevor began getting desperate. His eyes burnt into yours. “C’mon, sugar. I want… Fuck…”  

He was already going weak. His thrusts were now sloppy and you grabbed onto his hips, regaining his pace and forcing him to work a bit harder for your love. He made small noises as he was being overworked but didn’t say anything against. Like Hell, the feeling of your hands on his skin was beautiful enough.

“So good.” You softly praised, back arched.

Trevor nodded frantically, “I’m so good for you. I’m making you… Ah – feel, oh… Jesus, fuck!”

“Get yourself together…”

“Huh?” He looked at you with want. He’s never been told to keep it together much, especially not from an older woman. It was heavenly! He was a boy again.

“Keep going…” Breathlessly, you clung to him.

“But… I’m gonna – “

“Keep going. Fuck. Trevor.”

How dare you say his name like that. It made it so much harder to control his urges. He had to swallow his tongue and clench real hard to avoid coming so early, just for you. It was painful, but it was worth it. As long as he could feel you grow wetter by second. You deserved the feeling.

So he carried on going. His thrusts were strong and his hands bruised your breasts, hugging it with his palm, watching it shake with motion. This was the sort of dance he wanted beforehand… Just naked, tits, you; him.

“Fuck me, Trevor!” You moaned loudly, forgetting about his “roommate.”

“Yes… Ma, I am! Ah – Ma!” The word slipped out. Trevor hadn’t of noticed but your stomach grew butterflies when he accidentally called you that.

“Trevor…” You grabbed onto his shoulders and pushed your foreheads together. “C’mon. Faster.”

He thrusted more crazily.

“Yes. Yes!”

Your words of encouragement praised him.

“I’m gonna fucking cum! – “

In a haze of derealisation, Trevor collapsed onto your body, his cum soaking up in your pussy as you experienced your hard orgasm. He scrunched his face between your breasts and felt your pussy squirt out cum, his hips shaking and hands drenched with sweat.

“Oohhh, mother!” He bellowed during the taunting load.

It felt like a relapse of pure pleasure. You lied there and stared up at the ceiling, breathing like you were running out of oxygen. He still had himself in you. It didn’t matter since you knew, from the condition of his overall health, that there were no concerns. Besides, your body couldn’t produce anything from his cum. The warmth as well… It was entrancing, inviting, addicting. You wanted him to cum inside you more. It was definitely something you hope to do again.

“Come… Again, soon.” You breathed while fingers mangled in his thinning hair.

Trevor grumbled something inaudible before rolling onto his back. He had this smirk on his face, eyes shut, scratching his upper chest and finally releasing his cock from your used pussy. He gave you a nod, and when you attempted to sit up, he pulled you back against the bed.

“Don’t go.” He said, tired.

“I’ve got to pick up my son.” You whispered back.

There was a pout on his face as he tugged at your wrist again. “Can’t he wait?”

“I can’t escape parental responsibility.”

“How old is he?”

“That’s none of your concern.” You muttered at him.

Trevor grinned, “Hmm… But I wanna keep you around for the night. You know… Relax…”

“I want to, Trevor, but I really got to see my son.” Your hand rubbed down his arm before standing up. You looked back at him. “You know where I am.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You know where I’ll be then.”

He sucked in his lips and watched you dress, sighing when you were gone. His eyes closed but then that annoying voice bullied its way into his peaceful senses.

“I- Uh… Trevor, your friend has lef – “

“SHUT THE FUCK UP FLOYD!”

[pumpkinsy0]

I ain’t the best writer, it’s real hard to write one shots 🙏

Everything was a mess, and he wasn’t only talking about the apocalyptic world. The surviving group he was currently with clashed together constantly, with their arguments, or different opinions on what they should be doing instead. But they always worked together properly when it’s most important.

But glory, he really wished Darry and Sodapop were here with him.

He was home that day when they left for work, along with Two Bit, who had offered to take care of him while they were out, quietly reading a book on the couch. They had said they would come back soon enough, but they never did.

He could understand why now however. During one of their searches, they had stumbled upon the DX station, hoping that there were some food that they could take, and even better yet, his brothers was hiding out in here. He was right. Not in the way he wanted it to be.

His mind constantly flashes him with pictures of his brother’s decomposed, rotting bodies, hissing and snarling towards him. He remembers his violent trembles, as he can no longer recognise Sodapop, the one who he was so close to, the one who he told everything, his movie star appearance was no longer of that sort. His skin was a sickly colour, a mixture of brown and grey that lingered the smell of rotting flesh. Darry being the exact same way. They were barely decomposed by the time they had found them.

One thing he could never forget however, before they were shot dead, was their position. Sodapop being cradled by Darry in a hidden room of the DX station, where they had been hiding out. Obvious marks of a zombie bite on them.

Finding the last bit of comfort between brothers before they die. He kills them so they would never have to live as these monsters.

He still constantly gets nightmares of the bullet shooting clean through their brains, with blood and brain splattering everywhere.

He was knocked out of his thoughts when a hand was placed onto his shoulder, gripping tightly. “Something on your mind?” Only to look up and see Tim Shepards eyes peering down on his.

Tim, Curly’s older brother, had found him along with the rest of his gang when they were in the midst of being surrounded by the undead. And since that day, they had stuck and been through everything together. Especially with the walkers and the constant raiders that come to try to steal their weapons, food, gas, everything they had that were useful.

Ponyboy had always thought of Tim Shepard to be an alley cat, hungry and restless, and a guy who will do anything necessary to get something or survive. His and the Shepards gang always had a mutual relationship, but he was always warned not to be affiliated with them by Darry, as he might end up in real deep trouble if he were to go along their schemes.

It doesn’t exactly stop him from hanging out with Curly Shepard, however. He wonders how he is now, last he heard, he was in the reformatory. He sort of missed him.

Ponyboy hoped he was okay.

He looked up to see that they were walking behind a bit from the rest of the group, who seemed to be talking amongst themselves, meaning it gave them time to talk without any distractions or eavesdroppers. Biting his lip nervously, he peered back up to make eye contact with Tim. “I’m okay.” Was all he responded with.

Tim wasn’t at all like Sodapop, he was a greaser but not like them. He was a real street hood and criminal who was friends with Dally, even if they do fight each other a lot. It wasn’t like he felt afraid to tell Tim anything, but he wasn’t easy to talk with either. Despite all they’ve gone through, all the people he witnessed being killed, both socs and greasers, being saved by the group time and time again, they would’ve become closer. And he truly did, especially with Tim.

But he could never replace his big brothers. Nobody would.

With an affirming nod, Tim calls back the rest of the group in order to get their attention. It had been only a few months since the apocalypse had started, and they were beginning to think that Tulsa wouldn’t be so safe anymore. Sure it had good enough buildings to hold down a fort and keep the undead away, but what were they going to do for food and drinks?

During the first few everybody had collectively brought everything they could, but now it was starting to run out. There wasn’t enough ammo for their guns anymore. Relying on close combat would be too risky when it comes to big herds, you’ll be a big fool to even try it.

But Ponyboy had dreaded when they talked of leaving town, possibly the entire state itself, but they couldn’t. This was all he has ever known, with his parents. With his brothers.

He wished he could properly say goodbye.

twd au,,,,in MY inbox????? the world has truly changed for the better, anon i love this sm<333

read this like the morning newspaper, im gonna shake u ferociously i loved this sm, maybe one day i’ll make a one shot of the au too,,,perchance i shall,,,one day,,,u have inspired me,,,

“he wished he could properly say goodbye”

EATING THIS UP WOOOOOO

[vincess-princess]

we, the psychos

ch. 11

Word count: 1957 Warnings: description of a psychotic episode A/N: i personally have never had a psychotic episode so this is me going off my imagination and what i've seen and read about them. hopefully it's close to reality!

“I’m very disappointed in you both,” said Dr. Duren with well-measured disapproval in his voice. Anything he ever said was always just the right amount of emotion. Nikki never saw him fly off the hook or lose control. It was almost uncanny – but very useful in constant contact with emotion-ruled psychos. “Very disappointed.”

Nikki glanced at Vince. He was leaning back onto the chair relaxedly, legs spread wide, expression mildly amused. If Nikki knew Vince a little bit less he would think he didn’t care what was going to happen to him. But Nikki knew Vince well enough to see the slightest tremble in him - he did care, didn’t want to be punished again. Yet he still assaulted Nikki in the canteen, knowing full well the consequences would be rather unpleasant. What did Hudson do to him that pissed him off so much?

“Who started it?” asked Dr. Duren. He addressed mainly Stradlin behind Vince’s back, but Vince replied instead of him.

“I did.”

“And why would you do that?”

“He looked at me the wrong way,” Vince said and smiled a crooked, bitter smile.

“Really?” Dr. Duren raised his eyebrows. He didn’t seem to believe Vince. “You have never had anything against Frank, but now one wrong look – and you pour soup on him?”

“You know me,” Vince replied, doing very good job of sounding nonchalant. “I’m a chaotic individual.”

“Did something occur between you two when you were on canteen duty?” Dr. Duren continued, now looking at Nikki. Damn it. Unlike Vince, Nikki was never good at lying, so he just shook his head.

“Nothing for Frank. And you, Vincent? Any complaints?”

“He was too slow at everything. I had to do most of the job myself.” Vince sent Nikki an overly grim look.

“Oh, so here it is.” Dr. Duren seemed satisfied. “Vincent, but you do see Frank’s hand is injured. Working one-handed is hard.”

“So what? I’m also injured, and I ain’t working at a speed of a turtle,” Vince complained a little too eagerly for Nikki to believe him. But Dr. Duren fell for it.

“Patience, Vincent. Patience. That’s what you lack. We’ll have to work on that.”

“Well, I’m sitting here listening to you, so clearly I’m patient enough.”

Dr. Duren gave him such a heavy look even Vince seemed to be slightly humbled by it. Only slightly, but still an achievement.

“You know I do not tolerate violence in my asylum, Vincent. Yet you chose to enact it. Clearly you’re not yet ready to go back to society. A week of solitary confinement in your ward for you. One of the nurses…” his gaze ran over the three nurses in his office, “Bailey, yes. You’ll deliver food for Vincent starting today evening and ending next Thursday. And accompany him to the bathroom. No more than three visits a day. And, yes, cuffs at night.”

Dr. Duren looked at Vince, whose face went so pale it looked almost like a death mask, and smiled.

“That will teach you patience, Vincent. If you are on your best behavior during that time, you will be released with no further punishment. Take him away.” He waved to Stradlin and Bailey, who took Vince by the forearms and led to the door. Nikki didn’t dare look at him, but Vince’s heavy gaze burrowed a hole in his back until he disappeared behind the door.

“And you, Frank…” Dr. Duren rubbed his temples tiredly. “You could have called the nurses, could have tried to avoid the violence. Yet you indulged in it, by all accounts, with energy and glee. This is unacceptable.”

Nikki nodded solemnly. Dr. Duren didn’t seem convinced.

“Since Vincent is now out of commission for a while, you’ll be cleaning the canteen on your own for the rest of your punishment. Hopefully cleaning up that soup you spilled will teach you the value of labor of cooking and cleaning staff.”

Well, it could be worse, Nikki thought, nudged up by the nurse. At least it was not solitary confinement, which drove already crazy men absolutely nuts. One smashed his head on the wall on the fourth day of the punishment. The other strangled himself on the sheets, which was why patients in solitary slept on bare mattresses and had their blankets taken during the day.

Nikki feared to even imagine what Vince would look and act like after a week in solitary. He was already pretty antisocial, in a sense that he didn’t really fit in a society, even a society of psychos. Vince himself loved society. He loved the attention people could give him; he craved it, he wanted to constantly be in the middle of it. And now no human connection at all besides a couple words with Bailey, who wasn’t the talkative type either…

And it was Nikki’s fault. Well, not entirely - Vince started the fight, after all. But that was revenge. To Nikki’s revenge. So Vince basically punished himself, didn’t he? He knew there would be consequences. Of course he knew. Was the soup he poured over Nikki’s head and a black eye he gave Nikki really worth a week of solitary? Did he think it would be worth it before he got it? Did he regret?

Nikki hoped he did. Because Nikki sure regretted starting it now.

***

Tommy soon realised nobody would hear him here, in the farthest corner of the asylum. The only other door nearby probably led to another padded cell, and it must have been empty. Only Simmons knew Tommy was here. And he would hardly take mercy on him soon.

What did Tommy even do wrong to get thrown in the padded cell, supposedly only for violent patients? He only asked to see the doctor. Which was kind of his job, seeing his patients. Duff even said he would try to carve out some time for Tommy today, so this was a possibility all nurses knew about. Then why’d Simmons react so harshly? Was there something the doctor didn’t know, and Simmons feared Tommy would tell him that? Was the padded cell a punishment for anyone daring to speak up?

Or Simmons could just be an asshole who didn’t care about patients whatsoever and only worked here to exercise power over vulnerable people. That was also possible.

Anyway, whatever the truth was, Tommy was in a pickle.

He sat down, leaning on the padded door. Its soft covering was pleasant to lean on, but Tommy would prefer the hardest of chairs. It was dark and quiet in there, and he was never on good terms with darkness and silence. When there were no outside stimuli, his brain usually began to make up his own.

And sure enough, soon Tommy started hearing steps. He first thought they were coming from the hall, but no one came to him yelling, so he decided this was his brain playing jokes on him. But then steps neared, became heavier and angrier, like someone was pacing back and forth just outside of the door of the padded cell. And they resembled Simmons’s steps so much a shudder ran down Tommy’s spine.

This was not real. He knew this was not real. There was no one outside the cell. It was just his brain playing tricks on him, as it always did.

Still, he crawled to the farthest corner of the padded cell, pressed his back into the wall, hugged his knees and stared at the small barred window, the only source of light in the cell. And every second he expected the light to disappear, cut off by a large, wide body of… Simmons? No, probably not even him. Probably something worse.

The only other thing besides the steps that Tommy could hear now was his own breath, and at least it was definitely real. So Tommy focused on it hard. Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. Louder, louder. Calm down, his beating heart. In. Out. In. Out. In-

The steps disappeared. Oh god, they disappeared.

Tommy wiped his forehead he didn’t even notice get sweaty. It left, thank god. Whatever was there, it left. He sighed in relief and slid down the soft wall onto the floor. His chest heaved up and down. The psychotic episode was over.

And then he heard steps inside the cell.

They were quiet, much quieter than the previous ones. But they were closer. Tommy could almost feel the whiffs of air that legs moving produced touch him. He rubbed his skin there, to drown the feeling in something more intense. But the coolness of the air wasn’t overpowered even by intensive rubbing; it was there even in the hotness building up under the skin.

One whiff of air reached Tommy’s nose, and a trace of a scent tickled it. It smelled… like the asylum garden. Like rotting leaves, wet earth, upcoming winter chill. Tommy didn’t like that smell. He’d never felt close to nature and had no desire to get close to it now. The scent, at first faint, then quickly grew in strength, overpowering everything else, stuffing Tommy’s nostrils until he had to breathe through his mouth. But even his mouth could feel the taste of the earth, and it was exactly how Tommy imagined it to be, and he had to suppress retching, because it was disgusting.

His brain couldn’t create something so vivid and material. It was real. It was his punishment for not obeying the nurses, for refusing to do the work others did. He forgot who he was and where he was, and this was a reminder. You’re nothing but a speck of dust, and other people have total control over you, and you will have to spend the rest of your life here, and oh, does that make you feel bad? Well, tough luck. Get over it. The sooner you do it, the easier it will be.

The steps grew closer and closer. Tommy pressed his back into the wall even harder, afraid it would touch him. What scared him the most was that he could hear only one breath – his own. And it gave him away. It could hear his breath. It knew where he was. It was just playing with him.

And this went on and on and on. Steps. Tommy’s quiet breath. The smell. The taste. It was unyielding. It was merciless. It was all-consuming. It swallowed Tommy whole.

Until it didn’t.

“Tommy?” he heard as though from afar. “Hey! Wake up!”

Tommy opened his eyes and saw Duff’s face mere inches away from his. Incredibly detailed, with every pore visible, nostrils flaring, expression concerned.

“Do you hear me?” Duff said, and his voice drowned out the steps. Tommy could still hear them in the background, but they as though moved away and now were barely audible. He raised his hand and carefully touched Duff’s face.

There was warm skin under Tommy’s fingers, his fingertips could feel all the little skin defects. Duff was here. Oh thank god.

Tommy gripped Duff’s face with all his might.

“Did it go away?”

“Hey, don’t get too handsy here!” Duff slapped Tommy’s hands off. “Did what go away?”

Tommy thought it over for a bit. Really, what was that pacing in the cell?

“I don’t know. Something.”

“Very informative,” Duff said tiredly. He must have dealt with lots of such claims. “Anyway, Simmons told me you were here. I got you a spot in Dr. Duren’s schedule. I see now that you need it. Come on, he’s waiting for you.”

He helped Tommy up and led him to the door. While they were walking down the hall Tommy could still hear steps far behind them, just on the border of real and imaginary.

[lina-lovebug]

Bleeding Hearts

Part 10

Taglist: @silverhowe @happycupcakeenthusiast @vampire-hunter @simpforavillain @dumb-fawkin-bitch @mushroomlover13 @kimqueenofhell @vane28282 @namor-is-the-way @daaiissyyyyy @anyzandy @pturnersblog @cherrychupachup

I had refused food.

Again.

What they called ‘food’ was nowhere near anything enough to nourish my body. It smelled awful and looked like it would make me sick.

I ignored the growling in my stomach as I heard the familiar click of the door and Miles Quaritch came in with cuffs at his side.

“Still ain’t eating?” He questioned, seeing the untouched food.

“Your food is not nourishing for the body,” I said, and approached him. His eyes watched me as I had my hands reached outwards, and looked up at him.

“May I?” 

“Go right ahead, sweetheart,” I glared at him but continued.

“Your body is Na’vi now. We are stronger, faster and much larger compared to humans,” I said, feeling his stomach and upper chest. 

“You need to nourish it like a Na’vi now, not this shit you call food. You may be strong, but this physique will wear off if you do not eat properly,” I explained, feeling his waistline and up to his back. He’s stronger than most Na’vi males I have met, but it will not last.

“Pretty sure your husband wouldn’t take a liking to his lady touching me,” He said, and I looked up at him.

“I am not mated.”

“But the little one on your back-”

“She is Tuktirey, Jake and Neytiris’ youngest,” I interrupted, “I have not found myself a male I have connected with. Any males I did know died during the battle.”

“How does that work?” His question seemed genuine, so I answered. I gently grabbed his queue and held it up to him.

“When you have found someone whom you cherish and love, you connect your queues together. Then, you are mated for life. That is a big difference I have found in our cultures.”

“How do you know that you will always love them?” He asked, staring at me.

“That is a concept you humans can never understand. You use eachother for pleasure. We bond through life experiences and conversation. We cherish life, and we cherish one another. It is a bond most treasured, and something I hope to have for myself. . .when the time is right,” I finished.

"Which is why your mission is futile. You will kill our home, just like you did yours," I moved away from him, my touch no longer on his warm body.

"You just don't want us here."

"I wonder why," I mused.

"Why are you here? You brought me nothing and you have no restraints," I asked, as if I was busy with anything else.

"It's your lucky day because you get to go outside," He said, pulling out a round device, "but you'll need to wear this."

No.

"I am not wearing such a thing," My ears folded back.

He sighed, "you gotta cooperate or the General will have me shackle you."

I stared at the device, knowing that if I put it on, I could be forever tracked and have no way of taking it off. They could use it to hurt me, and do unspeakable things.

"Only if I can hunt."

Wearing a collar was humiliating. I could feel the demons smiling at me as I passed, knowing that I was now under their grasp. They wish to bind me and chain me. They are disgusting and do horrible things, and yet call us savages? 

"Ninat'ia!"

My ears sprang up, finally bringing myself back to reality.

"What?" I said, having been on my own little island in my mind the entire way here.

"You gonna show us how to hunt or what?" 

"We can't give her a gun, Colonel," His Corporal said, and I scoffed.

"We do not use primitive weapons to kill. If you wish to think like Na'vi, the first lesson is that all energy is borrowed. Once you die, that energy returns back to Eywa," I explained, walking towards a fallen tree.

"The moss on it, the cracks, the holes - it is now a home and shelter to the animals. Even after death, you bring balance."

"After you have incapacitated the animal, you put it to rest with a dagger to the heart so it doesn't suffer," Spider finished, having learned this lesson when he was only seven. 

As my eyes traveled over them, their spirits were elsewhere. They were not even listening.

They were bored.

And they were pissing me off.

With a huff, I grabbed my dagger from Miles Quaritch vest and threw it into a tree. It was a bird, small enough for a teenager to fill up on, and it fell right in front of us.

"Less boring now?!" I snapped before marching off, ignoring the calls for me. 

Tears welled up in my eyes as I started to run. I didn't want this. I just wanted to be home. I wanted to be with mother and Spider and my sister. I want to be free.

"Ninat'ia!"

Miles Quaritch is quick on his feet. He manages to grab me but I quickly whip around with a slap to his face.

"Why?! Why are you even trying?!" I screamed, "you will destroy us! You will kill Eywa!"

"Hey, hey. I need you to-"

"It is not our fault you destroyed your home!" I didn't care if he could kill me. 

I was tired.

I wanted this to stop.

"And now you will destroy ours. You will kill Eywa!" I cried, hitting his chest and he did nothing. He let me hit him, let me scream and cry.

His hand reached out for my shoulder, but I pulled back, "you are all demons."

"I know. . ." 

"I do not care what happens to me, but I will kill you. I will not stop until your blood is on my hands," I swore before him, my eyes bleeding into his soul.

He said nothing but moved forward, bringing my head to his chest as I did nothing but cry.

Cry for my family, for my home.

For Eywa.

[basilone]

'Heat' and 'threshold' for Buck? Juno xx

Yes hello! 👀 Always game to write more Buck. And, well, I really wanted to take a moment to write him with Lottie, with whom he's got a bit of a complex something going on. I've set this after the events in full of grace, but it can be read as a standalone for sure. Half of this was written as a voice exercise for their relationship ages ago, and finally repurposed here in what feels like its proper place. 😊I don't think this piece needs a warning that isn't covered by the blanket "Lottie's a bi disaster"-tag, so... we're good to go!

heat / threshold

“I ain’t apologizin’ any.”

The shadow cast over her seems to shift slightly at the snap-and-bite she’s laced her words with. Lottie doesn’t bother looking up. Keeps her arms locked around her knees. Presses her face against her legs when the shadow doesn’t go away. Something curdles in her belly – low, aching, sharp like the bile in the back of her throat – that makes her feel all wrong. Makes her want to jump out of her skin in a way that leaves her head spinning and her choices less than fine.

“Jesus, Ace.”

She hates his long pause that makes her nickname a punctuation mark in his mouth. He sounds flat. Tired. She hates that she’s not Lot to him now. He calls her that every other time – even when he’s Major and she’s Captain and they’ve got a job to be doing – but never when he’s mad at her. The fact that she’s Ace to him now stings worse than the scrape on her knuckle that hasn’t stopped bleeding yet.

“You’ve got to stop fighting,” he says, then, and that’s a tune she’s heard from him before. “Hey? You have to.” His boots meet her toes. His flight jacket lands on the sand beside her. His sigh fills the air as much as his lingering aftershave does. “You listenin’ to me?”

“Yeah.” She allows a beat to pass. “Sorta.”

“I mean it.”

“I heard ya just fine, Major. Sir. Gilly Gale Cleven of the three-five-oh.”

He scrapes his throat. “Jesus, you’re really gunning for it now.” He still doesn’t go away. If anything, he moves that much closer. Folds himself into her space as he sinks down onto his jacket. He nudges her shoulder as they come to sit arm-to-arm, foot-to-foot, jacket-to-jacket. “What happened out there, Ace? Tiny said something about you and some of Blakely’s crowd?”

“Something like that.” Lottie shrugs. Keeps her gaze fixed on the small dent in the lone water canister Benny hasn’t picked up yet. “They ain’t learned to keep their mouths shut yet. Carter especially. Shutting them for ’em seemed… prudent.” She affects her mother’s tone on the last word. All debutante-socialite judgment rendered with the precision of a bullet. Is rewarded for it when he snorts out something that, in a better universe than this one, could very well be a laugh. “You give them a talking-to, too? Little lecture? Or am I the lone lucky one to face Major Cleven’s disapproval, sir?”

“Put a lid on the sirs, Ace.”

“Stop callin’ me Ace and I’ll think about it, sir.”

“Lot,” he rasps out, then, and goddamn she doesn’t like how her eyes sting when he nudges her again, “you really need to stop fighting us.” You need to stop fighting me is what she hears, exhaustion lacing his voice, not even an admonishment in place for the tone she’s taken with him. “All right?”

“I hear ya, Gilly. Y’all just get under my damn skin sometimes.” She tries to not make it sound too much like she’s sulking. Ain’t sure she’s succeeding when he chuckles and stretches his legs out beside her. “I don’t know. I don’t got anywhere else to put that feelin’, ya know?”

“Sky ain’t enough, huh.”

“The sky shoots back these days,” she says conversationally. “Gotta leave the pain on the ground. Take anything up with ya, it’s gonna make ya crash.”

“Ain’t that a truth.”

“I ain’t Val, I ain’t good at lyin’ to ya. Unless Bucky asks me to, of course.”

“Of course.”

Lottie exhales a noisy breath. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Gale’s face is serene when she glances at him. His hand finds her bruised knuckles. “Do better, Lot. I know you can.”

“You really believe that horseshit, huh.”

His hand squeezes hers none too gently before he releases her. “Manage a week. I’ll take you flying after. How’s that sound?”

“Like a damn impossibility.” Her voice cracks. She blinks furiously as her lower lip starts to wobble. “I… I don’t think…”

“Gotta start somewhere. This heat’s got all tempers at a high. Perrault has yet to take a breath without insulting John in the process.”

Lottie sniffs. Wipes at her cheeks. “Bucky deserves it.”

“I’m sure he does.” His smile is wry. His cheeks are flushed with heat. The start of a sunburn is already sprawling over his bare chest, beneath the glint of his dog tags. “You wanna talk about it now or later, Squeaky?”

“Not at all?” she hedges. Ignores the way his eyes narrow at that to the best of her ability. “I’m sick of talkin’, Gilly. Sick of people askin’ me shit.” She bites her lip. Wishes she could draw blood with the action. “You might as well be the only one who’s nice to me lately. Even if ya call me Squeaky.”

“Benny was plenty nice to you after we landed.”

And she can’t fault him for it. Can’t even hate him for it. “Yeah. He was.” She swallows thickly. Her head feels like it’s about to start swimming. “Darlene likes him a lot, ya know? Can’t be mean to him when she’s all soft about the guy.” Can’t be mean to him even when he makes Darlene smile in a way she hasn’t smiled at Lottie in a long time now. “I ain’t got a problem with Benny, all right?”

“All right,” agrees Gale, even when his tone suggests it’s anything but. He scrapes his throat. Pointedly doesn’t look at her. “Next time you want to fight a guy, Lot… You try me first.”

Lottie blinks. Stares. He is looking at the same water canister she was, earlier. “You? Gilly,” she laughs, breathless all of a sudden, “I ain’t gonna fight you.” I like you too much for that. “You’re my superior officer and all that shit, remember? You tryin’a get me into trouble here?”

He grunts a little. “Trying to keep you out of it, actually.”

“That don’t make sense.”

“What, me wanting to keep you out of trouble?” He laughs. Glances at her, all crinkled eyes and far too much warmth in his gaze, and her belly swoops the same way it did when she first stood on the threshold of a cockpit. “If you fight me,” he continues, speaking straight through the static that fizzes to life inside her, “I can chalk it up to training. Say it’s friendly. If you fight anybody else, they’ll demote you eventually. Send you home, if you keep going.”

“So, what, you’ll be my punching bag?”

“This bag will still punch back, Squeaky,” he snorts, nudging her. “And hard, too. You’re not the only one with a mean right hook in this squadron.”

“You’d punch a lady like me, Gilly?” She flutters her eyelashes at him. Nudges his shoulder none too gently. Anything to shake that feeling inside her that feels treacherously like butterflies. “No warnings, no takebacks, no apologies? Give it to me good and hard?”

His cheeks flush a deeper crimson than before. “Jesus, Lot…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you’ve already hit your max on dirty chatter for the day,” she laughs, lifting her sunglasses out of her hair and donning them again. “Can’t fault a girl for jumping on it though. Think of it as me perfectin’ your poker face in case you run into them Nazis. They ain’t gonna crack you during interrogation.”

“Pretty sure them Nazis won’t crack a hundred crude jokes like you do.”

“Pretty sure that makes them more boring than me.”

His answering laugh is soft. Doesn’t carry beyond where they’re seated. “Pretty sure you’re the least boring person in my world, Lot.”

Her cheeks feel warmer than the rest of her does, even though she’s been sunning herself in this mid-day heat for at least an hour now. “Bucky’s gonna cry if you tell him that,” she says, leaning her head on his shoulder long enough for him to tense and then relax under her touch. “But ya sure know how to make a girl feel special, sir. Marge is damn lucky to have ya.”

His shoulder tenses just a fraction beneath her cheek. Just enough.

It’s easier when she draws this line for both of them, or so she’ll tell herself half a million times more.