#and makes sure EVERYONE is drinking when they should >:(

[takumiraine]

Once Upon A Time chapter 4

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Danny should avoid him, because of his father. Danny should just brush him off and let him drown. Danny should keep his distance from anyone and everyone, but especially him.

Danny was never the best at doing what he should do, and worse, he was hungry.

—-

The cafe on campus was quaint, filled with light chatter and Jason was hating every second of it. Danny showed up just as he said he would, which meant he met Jason there, the man having already taken a back corner table for them. Danny walked up and set his books down. Jason had to wonder, did the kid not have a backpack?

“Any idea what you want?” Jason asked instead, standing. Danny looked over to the menu, eyes skimming it over.

“Uh… burger and fries okay?” Danny seemed uncomfortable. Jason would feel bad if it didn’t put him at the tactical advantage.

Jason nodded at his request. “The works?”

“Please.” Danny bit his lip and Jason waited, while he worked up the nerve for something, “and a coffee? Black?” Was that it? Jason almost rolled his eyes.

“Sure thing.” Jason went off to place the order and leave a hefty tip, because one, he wanted someone to bring it out and two he wasn’t that kind of asshole. He came back and sat on the chair he had been occupying, back to the corner, and resisted the urge to spread out.

Jason the Red Hood man-spreaded, Jason Todd-Wayne did not.

So he sat. And he rested his forearms on the table. “You do not need to look so nervous Danny.” Jason tried for the patented Wayne smile, certain he was coming up short.

“Huh…?” Danny turned to look at him, “oh, sorry. Long day.” The young man raked his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. Jason knew it was a lie, but it seemed a familiar one. Danny tried to position himself so he could have the most visibility while drawing the least attention to himself. The position of a man hunted or used to being ambushed.

Danny refocused his attention after a moment, and looked at Jason, tilting his head slightly. “I hope it wasn’t a drain on your day to wait for me.” Jason waved his hand in response, the perfect practiced rich-bitch wave he hated.

“Nah, my friend works in the library on days when she doesn’t have class. I bothered her.” Danny seemed to relax a bit at the words.

“Oh good. I know I’m like… doing this for you, but…”

Jason cut him off there, turning the train of thought. “Speaking of, have you thought about what you want to be paid?”

“Oh… uh… not really. Most campus jobs make minimum wage right? Is that cool?” Jason wanted to throw Tim at this guy to teach him business sense in negotiation. If he really was 19, what had happened his whole life to make him feel like he needed to be invisible, while also walking away with a literal knife to the stomach and show up to class the next day?

“Most campus jobs do make minimum wage,” Jason agreed, “but nobody in my family is in the habit of paying just that. Just because I think my father is…. Well, words not fit for the polite company he insists I keep, doesn’t mean I’m going to stiff someone out of a well earned wage just to spite him. Twenty an hour is the lowest I’ll go.” He grinned now, all teeth, and something in him got a sick little thrill at watching Danny go even paler at the amount of money.

“Are you sure?” Danny asked, as their food and drinks were brought to them on a brown plastic tray.

“Say yes Dan. It’s a good deal.” Jason offered his hand to shake over the food.

Danny looked like he was offering his soul to the devil as Jason heard the man’s stomach rumble. “Okay. Yes.” Danny took his hand, and while the hand was ice cold, Danny shook with a surprisingly firm grip. Maybe the kid had a spine after all.

“Good. Now dig in,” Jason said after they parted. He picked up a fry off of his own plate and bit it, watching Danny with a sort of idle curiosity, as the boy - no, young man, went about his food with a carefully controlled gusto. Jason couldn’t help but wonder when the last time Danny ate was. He made a mental note to have Oracle check where he lived so he could do some recon later.

By the time dinner was finished, Danny seemed much more alive. His skin seemed to have better color, his eyes seemed more bright, and his energy was up. The kid was definitely going hungry if those changes were so immediate. Since Danny was scrawny, he assumed it wasn’t a new problem.

“So what makes math so difficult for you?” He asked, wiping his mouth and tilting his head. The question was blunt, but there was no open malice behind those bright blue eyes. The same kind of blue as his own when he wasn’t pit mad.

Jason shrugged. “Not really sure. It’s always been my weakest subject.” Not a lie. “Beyond money, my brain doesn’t seem to care.” Half a lie, but plays into the rags to rich bitch stereotype.

“I get that. I told you about me and literature right? For me it seems like there’s poetry in the way the math just… works.” Danny paused then, skin flushing red. “Sorry, that was…. Really stupid.”

In another life, Jason would have really liked this kid he thinks.

“No, not at all. Whoever told you your insights weren’t good obviously never stopped to listen to you.” Was he flirting? Should he be flirting? He flirted to maintain a cover or gain intel all the time. That’s all this was.

He almost missed the way Danny’s skin flushed deeper, from his ears down his neck. Almost.

“Well…. You’re in the minority then.” It came out a little bitter. He watched Danny take a breath and “Anyways.” Danny waved a hand, banishing the thought and something serious took over his expression instead. “I’m not going to take it easy on you just because you’re paying me. I expect you to put in the work too.”

Jason was right, the guy did have a spine. “Sure thing.” He waved his hand and stood, grabbing his bag and the tray. Danny stood and grabbed his books too. “Library?”

“Library.” Danny agreed.

Over the next week Jason was “surprised” to find out that they had three classes together. Math, Lit and Comp and History. All three remedial, and really the only one that Danny seemed borderline to deserve was the Introduction to Literature and Composition course. What he was genuinely surprised to find was that he enjoyed spending the combined nine hours of classes a week with the kid. Although in ‘basic mathematic principles’ Danny was quiet and allowed Jason to focus so they could work on their tutoring more effectively, in their history and English classes Danny was witty and sarcastic. A second thing he had noticed was that now that the tutoring sessions were happening, an hour, sometimes more, after every class, to make sure he ‘got it’, Danny was almost always eating.

Jason had learned that Danny’s ‘big life goal’ was a roof over his head, where his friends and family could visit or stay as they liked and room to tinker. A job that let him help people.

It was that information that made Jason fully convinced that even though he hated the Justice League with a viciousness that most rogues would balk at, for reasons he had yet to disclose, Danny was not really likely to become a rogue unless something big happened.

He should stop the college charade now. It was no longer needed for recon, and the other birds were starting to get suspicious. Bruce was looking at him differently too now. Something like how he used to.

A pen tapped on his notebook and Jason brought his attention back. Danny didn’t say anything, or even look at him, he was too busy sketching what looked like a circuit board in a secondary notebook. Jason quickly wrote down the notes before the slide changed, not looking forward to a disappointed look from his tutor.

Surprisingly, he ran into Danny as Red Hood once more that week. He was doing surveillance on a rooftop, when a sound caught his attention from the fire escape. Jason dipped back into the shadows and around the concrete and brick entrance from inside the building as a familiar mass of unruly black hair appeared and Danny hauled himself up with a surprising amount of finesse for someone who didn’t look muscular in the slightest.

“Damn it. Where’d you go guy? I thought I saw you land here.” Danny grumbled to himself, hands on his hips as he looked around “stupid not a bat disappearing just like the real ones…” While Jason was certain that he wasn’t meant to hear that, he finished his route and appeared almost behind Danny.

“What do you need?” He asked, thankful for the voice modulator as he knew Danny would have recognized his voice by now even if muffled by a helmet.

As it was, Danny startled with a yelp, swinging around and aiming a punch right for his solar plexus. Jason caught his wrist with practiced ease. “Fuck! Don’t scare a guy like that!” Danny yanked his arm back in a way that was meant to break unpracticed holds. Clever.

Jason waited while the kid caught his breath. “Well?”

“What? Oh. Uh. The guy. That…” Danny mimed the stabbing. “Is he okay?”

“Checked himself into the hospital about two hours later. He’s fine.” Oracle’s voice sounded in his ear. He nodded.

“Good, good…” Danny pushed his hair out of his eyes again, looking up at Jason through his helmet. Jason was hit with the disconcerting thought that somehow Danny was seeing through the bullet resistant one way visor. “Um… do you need the knife back? Or…. Should I….keep….it….? Or dump it? What’s…. I don’t know the protocol here, but I think ‘hey officer I was stabbed with this knife and the not-a-bat down in Crime Alley beat him up and then I accidentally stole it’ is a bad one.”

Jason snorted at the rambling, while Oracle laughed in his ear. “Even static filled he seems hilarious. I know why you like him.” He was going to kill Babs next time he saw her. “Knowing what he looks like doesn’t hurt either.”

“I can take it for you.” Jason said instead.

“Great! Wait here.” Danny turned and hopped back over the edge of the fire escape with the ease of someone who had years of training or practice.

“Is he like this all the time?” Babs asked, and Jason shrugged.

“Off and on.” Jason answered, sliding back down the fire escape completely silently as opposed to the obnoxious clatter Danny had made. He had seen and heard Danny move silently, like in the library, even on those creaky metal ladders for the top of the stacks, but he just assumed this was some sort of half assed survival mechanism.

Danny appeared again a few minutes later, with the knife wrapped in a towel in a bag. “I didn’t know how you wanted it so…” like Danny was bringing him coffee or ordering a pizza. Jason opened the bag and took the knife out, examining it.

“Good job kid. Now go home. It’s late.” It was barely ten. But he knew the Alley got more dangerous the later it got.

“Yeah. Okay.” Danny turned.

“Red Hood.”

Danny turned back. “What?”

“My name. Not-a-Bat isn’t as effective at striking fear into the enemy.”

Danny scoffed some. “I don’t need to use you as a shield.”

Jason held up the knife. Danny crossed his arms. “that was under control.”

“Right.”

“It was.”

Jason shook his head and pulled out his grapnel, firing it into the distance. As he swung off he had more questions about Danny than he was sure he would ever have answers.

[daisymbin]

Hello can u do 39. "you’re mine, remember that."

With Dino and female reader..?🥺

yes yes yes!!!

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suggestive prompt 39: "you're mine, remember that."

chan has never been the type of boyfriend to hover, but tonight was different.

sitting just a few seats away is chan’s cousin, someone you met a couple of times at family gatherings. he’s been striking up conversations with you throughout the night, his easy smile and playful remarks keeping you engaged.

chan sits right next to you, his arm slung protectively over the back of your chair. but every time his cousin leans in to say something, chan’s jaw tightens.

you don’t seem to notice. you’re too focused on the banter, laughing at something his cousin just said, completely oblivious to the growing tension radiating off chan.

“baby,” chan murmurs, his voice low and just loud enough for you to hear.

you turn to him, your smile softening when you see the look in his eyes. “yeah?”

“i think we should head out soon.”

you glance at your phone, noting the time. it’s only half-past 11. “but it’s still early,” you protest gently. “and we haven’t even ordered another round yet.”

chan’s hand tightens on the back of your chair, his fingers brushing your shoulder. he leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “you’re not the one who has to deal with my cousin hitting on you all night.”

your eyes widen slightly as you glance at his cousin, then back at chan. “chan, he’s not hitting on me. he’s just being friendly.”

“friendly?” chan scoffs under his breath. “he’s been leaning into you, laughing at everything you say, and staring like he’s forgotten we’re dating.”

you reach for his hand, lacing your fingers through his in an attempt to calm him. “he knows we’re together. he’s just joking around. it’s harmless.”

chan exhales sharply, his gaze fixed on the drink in front of him. “it doesn’t feel harmless.”

“okay,” you say softly I'm understanding, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “let me say goodbye to everyone, and then we’ll leave.”

relief flickers across chan’s face, and he nods, watching as you turn back to your friends to wrap up your conversation.

the ride back home in the car was quiet, the air between you charged with unspoken tension. you can tell chan’s still upset, but you’re not sure if you should push him to talk about it. instead, you wait until you’re both home, the door shut, and the silence heavy.

“chan, you know i wasn’t flirting with him, right?” you say softly, breaking the quiet.

chan grips the steering wheel, his knuckles white. “i know you weren’t.”

“then why are you so upset?”

he exhales sharply, leaning back against the seat. “it’s not you. it’s him. he knows we’re together, but he kept acting like…” he trails off, shaking his head. “like maybe he could convince you otherwise.”

you blink at him, stunned. “chan, i’d never—”

“i know you wouldn’t,” he cuts in quickly. “but it still pissed me off. seeing him make you laugh like that, watching him lean in too close… it made me want to punch him.”

you reach out, your fingers brushing against his arm. “chan, you don’t have to feel threatened by him. he’s your cousin, and i’m your girlfriend. nothing he says or does is going to change that.”

his gaze snaps to yours, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. then he leans closer, his hand cupping your jaw as his thumb brushes over your cheek. “say that again.” he begs.

your breath hitches at the intensity in his eyes. “i’m your girlfriend.”

his lips crash against yours, a kiss so fierce and possessive it steals the air from your lungs. his hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips move against yours like he’s trying to prove a point.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and his voice is a low growl. “you’re mine, remember that.”

your cheeks flush at his tone, and you nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “i will.”

chan doesn’t waste another second, his hands are on you again, his lips claiming yours with a desperation that makes your knees weak. he walks you backward until your back hits the wall, his body pressing against yours as he kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he stops. he removes his lips from yours only to litter heated wet kisses down your jaw and neckline, his hot breath on your skin heightening everything.

“chan,” you whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair as you try to ground yourself.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his chest heaving. “i’m sorry,” he says, his voice raw. “i know i shouldn’t let my jealousy get to me like that, but i can’t help it. not when it comes to you.”

you shake your head, cupping his face in your hands. “i kinda like it when you’re jealous," you give him a breathless smile, "it's hot."

his eyebrows raise in surprise, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “oh yeah?” his head dips back into the crook of your neck, “tell me more, pretty.” he demands sweetly. who were you to say no?

the rest of the night passes in a blur of whispered promises and lingering touches, each one a reminder of just how much you mean to each other.

by the time you’re both lying in bed, tangled in each other’s arms, chan presses a kiss to your forehead and murmurs, “you’re mine. and i’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never forget it.”

[laswells-ashtray]

John never thinks too hard about his childhood, he thinks he's past it. Drunken dad who died when he was a teen, mum who died the day he was born. No point wasting time on that and he thinks he's outgrown that point in his life. Maybe Dad was a bit heavy-handed with the belt but that was more acceptable back then, no need to fuss, and when he compares it to the stories Simon let slip when they both went a little too hard with the drink, he has nothing to complain about.

He never shares any family stories, yeah, Soap will share a story about how he was named after his dad and it sparks a conversation, Kyle will explain the origin of his name proudly, Simon will offer a sparse answer and none of them will ask for any further context. John will offer some half-assed explanation about being named after his old man's old man, someone he never met and never thinks about. Kyle asks him about his mother with a gentleness that can only mean he's noticed that John never talks about her, he offers the classic "never knew her" and it isn't a lie. It isn't. Because he didn't know her, she left earth the same day he made his appearance on it, the value of his life has always been at the cost of another, it's why he makes such a good captain. And he's sick of hearing "oh, I'm sorry" whenever he mentions that he's dead. He's a grown man, he can only hear so many apologies before they become just pointless words that hold no value.

So, it doesn't bother him. Two people he knew are dead, they started the list of countless other names that he doesn't bother thinking about.

And then he comes back from a mission one day, it was a shitshow. Nothing went to plan because their intel was fucked and everyone is frustrated. Ghost had to get stitches in a wound on his arm, isn't the end of the world but it was avoidable. Gaz, the poor fucker is concussed and Soap has the fun job of waking him up every two hours to check on him, a job he was assigned by a medic after they pulled the glass out of his hand. John is almost certain his ankle is sprained, his entire body is a bruise, he lost a good fucking cigar and he snapped at Laswell over comms so he owes an apology that he's planning in advance.

He wants Nik, it might be juvenile but he's tired in a way he can feel in his bones and he wants his pilot.

He finds Nik, he doesn't have to say anything as they head back to his room. Nik knows, Nik always knows. There's the briefest of exchanges as he strips out of his kit and he heads to the shower with the slightest relief knowing that his night is going to end in lazy sex and being stuck under the warm blanket of the Russian bear of a man.

He walks out with damp hair in a pair of boxers and socks because the floor is fucking cold with the constant draft and all but collapses face-first onto his bed. He'll offer Nik a murmured apology later for being selfish but he just isn't sure he can form the words right now.

He can hear Nik kicking off his boots behind him with little care as to where they land, it's a familiar sound from nights like this. He's as relaxed as he's going to get until he hears it, the sound of someone fumbling with their belt buckle. For years it's been just a noise but for the briefest of moments he tenses up in preparation, shoulders raised instinctively to try and block the leather from catching the back of his neck. He's not sure if he's breathing and he can smell whisky, the old fucker must've lobbed the bottle at the wall again and the last dredges of Johnnie Walker red label are soaking into the carpet again. If he doesn't remember to clean it before he goes up to bed then he's fucked, the old drunk will wring his fucking neck just like last time when he-

"John?" The hand on his back is warm as it lands between his shoulder blades, it should be comforting and he should relax into it. He doesn't. He's ashamed of the way he flinches, kicking out a leg as he tries to push himself up the bed and away from it hits him. It's Nikolai. The hand belongs to Nik.

He turns to face the other man, lying on his side and propped up with an elbow. He isn't sure if the sheer mortification he feels is obvious, or the tremors in his hands. He hasn't reacted like that since he was a boy.

"Fuck, Nik. Sorry, just lost in my own fucking head- Sorry, give me a sec and we can get to it." It's humiliating, he's the one who asked for sex and a fucking belt sends him over the edge.

"No, no `getting to it`. We shall continue another night." And there he's gone and done it, his fucking inability to keep his composure has just put a dampener on their sex life.

The cautious way Nikolai reaches out for him hurts, he's being treated like some scared animal. The large hand on his shoulder does act as a source of comfort when he knows who's behind it. "John, перестань. Talk to me, captain."

"I don't- I don't know, just give me a moment." How long can he spend pleading for just a little more time before Nikolai gets sick of it.

"The belt."

He looks up at the Russian with wide eyes, mouth open as he tries to form a denial of some kind, waiting for words that won't form.

Nikolai stares down at him with a look so gentle he has to look away, he can hear the faint sigh of resignation and the following mutter of something Russian that he isn't paying enough attention to in order to translate it in his head.

He sits in silence as the other man joins him in the bed, leaving a gap between that and offering John the chance to cross it on his own time. He shifts over and plaster himself against his partner's side, face buried in his neck.

"I assumed the scars down your back were from torture, just not the military kind."

"From years ago, don't matter much now do they? Taken a lot worse than a belt since then." His body was covered in scars of varying sizes, from anywhere to the scar on his hand from slicing a bagel to the silver band wrapped around part of his left thigh from a bastard with a blade that damn near nicked an artery. He'd stuck that poor sod's blade through his own throat and left him to gurgle on his blood.

"I assume your father is dead?" The fact that Nikolai sounds hopeful isn't lost on him.

"Drank himself into oblivion years ago." John had always thought it would've been his liver that did him in, would've bet money on it. Would've lost too. The old man had asphyxiated on his own vomit, silly prick.

"Good."

[merakiui]

How do you think Riddle would get into a friends with benefits relationship? Also, how would a relationship with him like that work anyway? Would it be something everyone’s aware of yet refuses to acknowledge? Would his dorm have more respect for you for calming the his tiny tyrant? I feel like ironically he would be a lot calmer around you and it would be a healthy start of a relationship for you two. But I’d like to hear your thoughts please.

I like to imagine Riddle was raised with the idea that you should only date for marriage and that marriage must always be the end goal in a relationship. No such thing as loveless "friends with benefits" or flimsy "situationships." Very traditional ideals ingrained in his head, courtesy of Mama Rosehearts. >_< so it's baffling to him when he's at NRC and learns about all kinds of different relationships. Hook-ups, fwb, complicated situationships, rebounds... there's just so much to keep track of and it's all so new.

Maybe it starts from a drunken mishap. Of course there's going to be alcohol at college parties, whether on campus or off campus. Maybe it's Deuce who mixes up the drinks and hands Riddle something alcoholic, or maybe Riddle himself decides he'll have alcohol that night. Maybe the two of you share a few kisses and some wandering hands in the corridor. Or maybe the two of you regularly spent time together and one thing led to another and... :) either way, there's a physical shift in your relationship together and Riddle isn't the type to let things hang up in the air.

Perhaps it's just for stress relief and pleasure. Nothing more. And perhaps it's curiosity or chemistry or something, but it doesn't sound terrible. It's Riddle's first time in this sort of relationship, but he won't deny that what the two of you did was enjoyable, even if you were both mutually intoxicated to remember most of it. ^^;;; regardless, so long as you're comfortable and okay with this, he wouldn't mind turning this into something. He's not sure how he's meant to feel when you say everything is no commitment and that you're just friends and that all of this is just casual. Riddle is a very committed guy who is so far from casual even though he's trying his best to be more lenient with himself and everything in his life. But those words are the best ways to describe all of this. Perhaps it's why he adds "no kissing" to the list of rules because kissing is a very romantic thing to him.

He's very meticulous, so naturally he makes sure to establish clear boundaries and rules. You go over what's on the table and what's a no-go. What the expectations (or lack thereof) should be. And for the first time in his life he's echoing the complete opposite of what his mother would lecture him about. No marriage. No dating. No romance. Just sex. It's friendship, but with benefits (as the name implies).

Funnily enough, I feel like he tries to set aside time for these things, but then who pencils into their schedule when they're going to have sex??? T_T maybe it's all spontaneous and impulsive, and at first it's a huge shift from what he's used to. But it's fun. He's never experienced anything like this before and you're just so...perfect. You're everything.

You'll witness new sides to Riddle the longer you spend with him, getting to know the guy beneath all of the stringent rules. Your friendship definitely strengthens during the times you spend with him, and Riddle is trying not to expect anything. Why would you or he stick around after sex? And why should he fret over his appearance and what he wears when you decide to go into town together? It's not a date. It's not romance. It's just sex. He has to remind himself of this when the two of you wake up curled into each other. That's just...biology. The human body needs warmth when it's cold. That's just normal. Aaaaa he's falling and he's not sure he can stay strictly casual and no commitment anymore.

As for who knows,,,, definitely Trey and Cater. Riddle goes to Trey about all kinds of stuff because they're friends and Trey is a good voice of reason, and it doesn't take a genius to understand what's happening. Trey won't say it outright, but he does try to poke at the issue to gauge where Riddle stands: "Well, if you like (Name) so much, what do you have to lose?" And poor Riddle is so frazzled because everything, Trey, he could lose everything if you don't feel the same way!!!! And Cater's been knowing LOL. He probably knew the day of the party that there was a vibe. >:)

There are so many hurdles and bumps to your relationship, but I do think it's very sweet if and when you and Riddle officially become a couple. And if not,,, perhaps Heartslabyul can push the two of you together because you're just the cutest, most cammable pair on campus right now (Cater's words). <3

[lara4eclipze]

“i wish you were sober"

— ( 🎲 ) take me where the music ain't too loud

— ( 🎰 ) angst , fluff , drinking , drugs, no label relationship , sort of good ending! , dw they become gir-

— ( 🎥 ) @wonysugar hii bae! , here's some angst for you :)) , idrk how I ended up with this but 🤞😘

this party shit , wish we could dip — go anywhere but here

you never knew what you and lara were , it was like you both were pining each other just waiting until one of you breaks and succumbs to love

she would be mad at you when you showed affection towards others but when she shows affection to others it's alright , it felt like you were getting fried in your own oil

you couldn't leave her — you didn't want to leave her , as much as it hurt you — you were never gonna leave her she was a part of you , someone who made you complete , you couldn't think about your college life without her

"I'm fine lara we should leave you know?—it's getting crowded in here" you wince as you took a look around seeing a bunch of teens passed out or drinking

"y/nnie come on!" lara manages to slurr out of her mouth , she was obviously intoxicated — she looked hypnotizing , her hair perfectly framed her face — lipstick smudged from drinking out of red plastic cups

"gosh your so b-boring" she hiccups, her hands now on yours trying to lift you off the couch you were sitting on

her words struck you — you were boring? for not participating in some stupid shit no teen should do? , "I just don't want to do this" you reason pulling back your hands and shooting her a sympathetic smile

"fine leave then" she suddenly bit — her tone was icy cold leaving no room for argument , she turns away from you and goes to a group of teens who were wasted

"okay...— I'll just go" you awkwardly mumble to yourself , you stand up and make sure all your things are in your bag — as you're walking out of the house you spot lara in the corner of your eye — smiling and flirting with someone

don't kiss my lips and please don't drink more beer

you wanted to storm over there and just scream at lara as if that was gonna make her sober — it really did fucking took a toll out of you , having to put up with this BS from lara — having to see her flirt with everyone but you

you check your watch and see it was already too late, by this point weird men start popping up in the party so you've taken it upon yourself to get lara home safely

"laru—we have to go" you lower your voice and whisper to her , she looks at you confused her eyes were half lidded and she reeked the smell of alcohol

fuck you fell for it again.

"I don't wanna go yet" she whines , her body slumped against yours as you tried to balance her, "I'm not asking if you want to , you're coming with me either way" you sternly declare

you turn to walk away still holding to her , she grips your shoulders and makes you face her — lara's lips soon was on yours , it felt soft and warm , she tasted sweet and almost like chocolate

as you both pull away you saw how her eyes were glossed over , her lips still having your lipstick on it some smudged over

"why won't you love me? hcc , I've done everything yet you never even tried reciprocating my feelings!" lara accused as the previous alcohol she has consumed made her sensitive , tears start to leave her eyes as she continues to reason why she had always wanted you

"i will always choose you over any of these people!" she screams , her voice broke as she kept on tearing up

you held her body , hugging her , as her tears fell on your shoulders — hiccups and many more thoughts left her mouth unfiltered

"I love you — don't you love me back?" she questions, looking up at you — her eyes were filled with tears her nose was red from all the sniffling she had done and god her voice trembled as if she was afraid of losing you

"I love you too , now don't cry I'm not gonna replace you ever" you replied using your handkerchief to wipe away her tears, she clings onto you and sniffles murmuring some thank you and I love you's

[howlett-n-morgan]

Take Me Home

6. Down The Road

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: i just was scrolling through tumblr and saw a post that a girl on twitter made and it was talking about a hot dad and I was like 'that's so me' and then at the end of the post it talked about how he called her miss aven and I threw my phone across the room because my name is also aven and i guess I am not the only one but anyways yeah all aven's are hot if ur name is aven ur hot.

Summary: The men of camp have begun to act strange, and Arthur seems to be the only one standing out... until a particular train job goes terribly wrong, then all bets are off.

Warnings: Not many, just some angst, canon typical violence, misogyny, and arguing... oh and some blood :)

WC: 12.5k (I went very insane last week)

He sensed your awkward reaches, even if he didn’t see them. He adjusted himself on the saddle before meeting your hands behind his back and pulling them around his sides to hold on. Your breath caught in your throat from how casually he’d done it, and how softly he touched you.  “That’s a nice flower in your hair, by the way,” he muttered, not even looking back before grabbing the reins and leading the horse out of camp. 

It was nearing fall again, and a year since you first arrived at camp, but things were beginning to get hectic. Not just with the attitudes of people in camp, but with the local law of Agua Fria getting more involved in the jobs the gang was pulling. You weren’t quite sure if you should be thankful for the distraction, or worried that it could make things worse for you. As far as you know, there’s not been bad feelings towards you, but there certainly weren’t friendly ones, either. It’s strange, since right after everyone found out your secret, they almost revered you in a way they hadn’t before. You supposed the walking on eggshells had to cease eventually.

The only people brave enough to talk to you now are Arthur and Hosea… you can’t say you don’t understand why. The lies finally caught up with most people, and it seemed to only get worse as time went on.

The men weren’t the only ones shunning you, either. The women, minus Tilly, were very straight and to the point if they had to speak with you, and if they didn’t, they just avoided you at any cost. 

It was beginning to feel more lonesome, almost like before you joined up with the Van Der Linde’s. 

The moment that all of it came to a head was around the campfire one night. You hadn’t spoken a word in fear of being over-talked or interrupted. You wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of cutting you off. 

Bill was the first to become irrationally drunk. Sean and Mac were next. You could swear Javier was drunk, too, but with every drink he took, his guitar rhythm never stuttered. Arthur was teetering on the edge of drunkenness, but the man was a unit, and it took a lot of alcohol to turn his mind. 

You felt relaxed enough to hit the bottle that Sean had set down, but then all eyes were on you. 

You forgot. The women don’t drink unless there’s a special occasion, though you aren’t quite sure why. You set the bottle down and let your eyes stay on the ground when you do until the conversation starts back up again. 

Arthur doesn’t really participate, he stays out of most of it, as do you. If you’re being honest, you don’t know why you sit at the fire with them anymore, because they don’t seem to give a shit if you do, and don’t seem to revere you like when they hadn’t been exposed to your secret. 

When the drunken chatter of the Agua Fria women comes up, you’re glad you took enough of a swig to boost your confidence. 

“I think they’re fine and what not,” Bill stumbles over his wording, barely making any sense. “Them girls in Charleston Town were better…”

“Better at what exactly?” You chimed in, finally taking part in the conversation.

“Screwin’, mostly… other things too I guess,” he coughed a little after speaking, taking yet another drink out of his mug. 

“Why’s it matter?” Sean started in, and though you understood he was a good kid and just mildly outspoken, you hated how these little talks seemed to only have started now that they knew about you. Almost like they’re pushing it in your face.

“Maybe because it don’t sit right with me, comparin’ girls like that,” you shook your head. It’s like talking to a sack of bricks, and it won’t change anything, but you try anyway. It angers you, how they used to talk about interesting things around the campfire. Sure, sex came up from time to time, but it was never just about their views of women and the only things they’re good for.

“You don’t needa worry, we ain’t comparin’ you,” Bill laughed, and even got the Calendar boys snickering under their breath. They should be keeping their mouths shut, since they were out of camp when everyone found out about you in the first place. They didn’t even realize it when they came back. 

“That’s because you’ve never had me,” you argued, and you could feel Arthur tense up beside you, almost like he was bracing himself for what he knew was coming. 

“I could if I wanted to.” The pure audacity, and all because of some drunken words. Bill was never your favorite amongst camp goers, but he’d grown on you when he got to know you as Charlie… Now it seems he hates your guts and will do anything to antagonize you. “I bet you’re nice n’ easy, huh darlin’?”

“You’re the last person in camp I’d let have me, jackass.”

Some colorful words for a pretty girl like you. At least Bill thought so. 

“You say that now… but I bet it didn’t take too much convincing to get you to spread 'em’ for Arthur,” he motioned to the gruff and stone-faced man beside you. 

“Knock it off, Bill,” Arthur chimed in, knowing that if he didn’t, the man would push you to your limits and then maybe you’d shoot him. Knowing that you didn’t miss your shots was a good reason to step in, even if he knew you could hold your own. 

“You can tell me, ol buddy,” Bill kept on, leaning forward. “Was it smooth as silk, or drier than the texas desert?” 

Everyone else in the circle was pretty damn quiet by this time, just watching as Bill repeatedly made a bigger fool of himself. They had participated, but only to a certain degree… but this felt too messy, and they didn’t wanna chance stepping in it. Especially where Arthur was concerned.

“I said knock it off,” Arthur was more stern, but felt the need to defend your honor further, and clear your name. “She ain’t done nothing with no one in this camp, ya hear me?” 

Bill let out a low and long whistle, looking back to you and seeing that your face was flushed. You were thankful for Arthur sticking up for you, but with the look on Bill’s face, it may have been just a touch too far. 

“Alright, Arthur… I believe ya,” he chuckled, eyes narrowing in while everyone still watched on. “You know, seein’ things clearly makes me think you’re the opposite of what I said.”

“What do you mean?” You furrowed your brow in concern. You should have never asked. 

“Boys,” he laughed out, nudging Mac to his left and slapping his knee in gleeful manner. “I’d say we’ve got ourselves a virgin.”

Your eyes widened, and immediately you were panicking. You’d never felt unsafe in the camp until right now, with the gaze of half the men in camp beginning to take you in as if it were for the first time. The way you reacted, they knew it to be true, and you weren’t sure what you could even say or do to hide it at this point. 

“You ain’t got any idea what you’re talkin’ about, Williamson,” you tried to defend, and Arthur jumped on the bandwagon. 

“That’s enough,” he grumbled, standing to his feet, offering you a hand to yours. “You’re all too damn drunk to even be livin’ right now.”

He issued a few less kind words that ushered them off to bed, and they dispersed from the circle, most of them to their sleeping arrangements. 

Arthur went with you to your tent, and at first you weren’t sure why he stayed so close. When you went inside and he tried to close the flaps you stopped him. 

“I can close up, I’m not quite tired yet…”

He gave you a respectful nod, but still held the flaps in his hand. “I just think that maybe you should close ‘em. I’ll stay outside here for a while just to make sure nothin’ happens,” he explained, but now you were fearful. 

“What would happen?” You ask with the same amount of fear creeping into your voice. 

“Nothin’, I won’t let it,” he assured you, but even though he brought some ease to your mind, he didn’t answer your question. 

“Arthur, what would happen to me?” 

“I don’t know… I don’t think they’re stupid enough to try anything, but…” he trailed, his voice leading off into a soft spoken tone.

“But?” 

“Bill is very drunk right now, and he’s had some problems in the past,” he didn’t want you to think Bill was some sort of evil man, but if only for right now, he wanted you to be cautious of him. “Just want you safe, is all.”

You looked at him for a moment before concocting an idea. Probably a bad one, but that remains to be seen. 

“Would you come sit with me a while?” 

He looked back outside the tent, where across the camp, a few of the men still lingered, watching from a distance. Looking back to you, he couldn’t say no. It’s been part of his new curse, unwilling to see you upset or in need of anything at all. He doesn’t even know why, but his brain won’t let him function like he used to. 

“I s’pose, but it’ll fuel their rumors that we…” he let his words fall off, but you knew what he was getting at. 

“That’s the point,” you told him, a nervous smile on your face. “If you don’t mind the rumors, that is.”

“M’not understandin’,” he shook his head. Wasn’t that the whole reason he had to interject in the first place? To clear your name of any intimate relations with him that had been suspected?

“Even if it’s just lyin, maybe they’ll leave me alone,” you explained. The thought of people thinking you were impure was a strange one, but you’re sure it beats the feeling of being hunted like prey. 

“Alright,” he nodded, looking at you with a decent smile. “Yeah, it’s alright with me, Red.”

You smiled in relief, suddenly all too focused on how he was looking at you. His hat was tipped slightly, so the brim framed his eyes in the moonlight from outside. You closed the flaps and sat back down with him, trying to think of something to say. 

“How long do you think we oughta stay in here for?” 

He shrugged, leaning back against the furthermost tent pole. “For them to actually believe it? I’d say a few hours…”

“Oh, really?” you teased, crossing your arms and giving him a cynical look. 

He smirked, nodding his head around some. “I’m only kiddin’... mostly. But you can kick me out whenever it suits you.”

“So long as you’re willin’ to help me, stay as long as you want.”

He smiled again, genuinely, and though he could barely see your face in the dim light of the closed tent, the small hole in the fabric ceiling made for the prettiest glow in your hair. He got to thinking, and of course that’s a dangerous thing, but he had to ask. 

“If you don’t mind sayin’ so… why haven’t you uh-?” His gesture towards the campfire outside, still going but soon to be snuffed out by the desert winds. 

“Honestly?” you searched the files of your mind for something that didn’t sound too privileged. You knew you had it good growing up, and no one here could compare, but you still had issues that eventually changed your entire life. “My mother taught me to save myself for my husband.”

“Oh,” he furrowed his brow. Your wild and careless nature didn’t match what you were saying. “I didn’t take you for someone who would.”

“I’m not… but, I’ve been Charlie Brooks ever since I ran away, and no one ever knew me otherwise until you.” 

He seemed surprised, but it did make sense when he pieced it all together. You’d gotten so good at playing the role of a young man, that countless people believed it. So much so, that you’d never been able to take a lover, though multiple women tried.

“And what about now? You ever thought of it?” He asked gently, his questions, though a bit intrusive, didn’t feel hard to answer. You knew he was curious, and after what just took place, you felt you owed him at least a few things to be resolved. 

“I have, a few times,” you admitted, your voice becoming softer when you realized what you were about to share. It didn’t really matter, though, you trusted him more than anyone else in this world as it were, and knew he wouldn’t mock you. He acts all tough, but he’s a soft and gentle creature deep down. “I think I’m still gonna wait until I can give it to someone I love.”

He dipped his head. He definitely understood, and only wished he’d been wise enough to do the same. There was a time in his life before where he wishes he’d waited for a certain girl… but that was ages ago, and he knows his count is higher than it should be. 

“Do you think you’re close to findin’ that someone?” his voice was just above a whisper, now, and he knows that the question he’s asked is risky. He doesn’t know if he wants to know the answer, but without thinking, you give it to him. 

“Real close,” you told him, looking down at your hands when his dim-lit stare became too much.

“Yeah?” he smiled, genuinely and with a hope he hadn’t felt in a while. 

You nodded to him, tilting your head as you took him in. Not tonight… you’re not ready, and you know you won’t be for a while. It’s just then, however, that you’ve decided it will be him. You nearly decided that on the day you first arrived at camp. That day when he teased you and you swore on your life that you didn’t like him all that much… but then the very next day he went and surprised you. His kindness and gentleness will never be forgotten. 

“Thank you for doing this, Arthur. I know I’m probably dooming you to a whole list’a questions tomorrow, but I’m grateful.”

“You don’t needa thank me,” he shook his head, being his generous and benevolent self. “I’ll always help you, whatever ya need.”

You stayed silent for a moment until he chuckled under his breath. “What?”

“Oh nothin, just thinkin’ of the look on Bill’s face tomorrow.”

You gave it a single thought and it made you laugh, too. It would probably be a terribly inappropriate slew of nasty questions after a round of congratulations, but he would deal with it, not you. 

You crawled over next to him, sitting on the ground by his side, and leaning your head on his shoulder. He didn’t mind, nor did he say anything. He just picked up your hand that was laying strewn on your lap, and threaded your fingers together. It was a silent action, but both of you understood immediately what it meant. We’re gonna be something, just give it time.

You sighed in contentment and turned your head to look at him. His profile stared on into the edge of the tent wall, until he could feel your eyes on him. He looked back down at you, but didn’t make a move. That’s not what tonight was about, and there would be plenty of time for all of that soon, he was sure of it. He squeezed your hand and turned back to face the tent wall, dipping his hat a little. Maybe he’d fall asleep here, and it would be the perfect crime scene for everyone to experience the next morning. You’d no doubt let him slumber here throughout the night, but you’d likely drag him into the bed, knowing how sore his back got every now and then. 

You wanted to make sure he was comfortable, you wanted to take care of him. You knew by now all of his little quirks and strange necessities, and were willing to bend over backwards to make sure he got them. You were willing to do anything it took to make sure he smiled at you like he’d just done seconds ago, to keep that look on his face whenever your eyes met, even in a crowded room. 

You’d lasso the moon for him if he asked, and pull it down so he could know its beauty from a closer perspective. You’d come to the conclusion that no matter which way you framed it, you were in love with Arthur Morgan. Had been for some time, but denial was a strong presence within you, and you were stubborn as hell when it came to admission.

You both eventually fell asleep like that, leaning against each other on the ground, and no effort of getting into the bed came about.

-

Bill’s face was indeed priceless, but you think you got more of a laugh from Sean. You didn’t even need to see his face, you heard his hollering from across the camp. You’d been cleaning rifles when the other redhead’s bellowing voice made you giggle. You’re sure that Arthur was annoyed as hell, but you’ll thank him for putting up with everything later. 

The strangeness of the men lingered only a bit longer, but when a few days passed, and Arthur started acting more protective out of nature towards anything that was said about you, they backed off. In their minds, you were Arthur’s girl… Off limits to everyone else.

There were of course more than just the men who had heard about your ‘all nighter’ with Arthur.

The women, albeit a bit nosy, were actually quite fun to gossip with. It seemed like faking the loss of your innocence with Arthur did wonders for the whole camp and their acts of shunning you. Did it bother you? Only slightly… it would have been worse if you’d actually gone through with it and appeased the camp

“Is he a good kisser? He did kiss you, right?” and “Did it hurt? I bet it hurt, he’s a big man…” were your favorite contenders for questions asked. You did as you needed to, alluding to the facts without actually saying anything of substance. To be very clear, nothing happened in the tent that night, or in the morning before he left. You had no actual idea if anything you were hinting at was true, but that was the fun of it. 

“You measured your cycle, didn’t you? You don’t wanna end up like me,” Abigail chimed in, Jack thrashing around on her hip while he cried. He was a sweet baby, but sometimes he was just a mess to deal with, and being in a camp full of outlaws didn’t help anything. 

“Yeah, I did…”

“Did he uh… prepare you first?” Karen chimed in with her own curiosities, and a small giggle followed. They knew that Arthur was the best of the men, and he was good to women… but none of them had gotten up close and personal proof of that fact. 

“Yes?” You answered with a bout of confusion… preparation? Your mother never mentioned nothing about damn preparation.

“Lucky girl,” she sighed out, her eyes rolling dramatically. “You really are, I hope you know. Arthur’s the best of the men.”

“Oh I know, trust me,” you snickered at just how lucky you were. These girls were drooling over the details you gave them. All were false, but you knew he’d own up to every single one of them, because he was just that good and kind to you. He was like a loyal dog, Dutch said, and he was right. You were more than lucky to have his care and protection, and it started to feel intimate in a way that sex never could. 

There was a word for that, you think… devotion. 

“So, are you Arthur’s girl, now?” 

That one caught you off guard, because even with a fake answer, you weren’t quite sure what to say. 

“I don’t… I don’t know,” you answered truthfully for the first time that morning, and it was almost refreshing to speak something that wasn’t just a blatant lie. 

“It was just a one off, then?” Abigail furrowed her brows. Since she’d rejected Arthur’s offer, she’d been starting to feel some regret. He was indeed the best of the men, and she’d turned him away in favor of a man who left her. How silly that was… but she knows it’s too late, now.

“I hope not,” you said nervously, again with truth.

“You’re fond of him, we can all tell…” 

You looked at them with surprise and a bit of alarm. “Since when?”

Karen leaned in on her elbows with a small giggle at your reaction. She quieted herself as to not draw more attention to this side of camp, in fears Miss Grimshaw would come force them all to start back on the chores. 

“It’s funny, when we found out you weren’t a boy, everything kinda made sense,” she chuckled. 

Abigail kept nodding along, her smile broadening. “You used to follow him around like a puppy, we all thought it was because you looked up to him, wanted to be like him.”

“Even I could tell, and I’d been pretty blinded by my own fondness of you,” Tilly joked, nudging you in the arm as you’d come to the realization that even under the guise of Texas Red, you had absolutely no subtlety. 

“Was it that obvious?” you asked in annoyance with yourself. You dipped your head into your hands when they all nodded in the affirmative. 

The girls were about to start round two of questions when Dutch and Hosea came out of the center tent, Dutch commanding the attention of all the members in the camp. 

“Everyone, listen up!” His large and brutal steps seemed angry, and you waited patiently to find out why. “We’re moving camp!”

Everyone was immediately caught up in the new announcement, conquests of nights past becoming completely forgotten. Questions of ‘Why?’ and ‘What happened?’ were uttered, as this seemed very sudden. The cash flow from Agua Fria was rather booming, and it didn’t seem like there needed to be a move. 

“I’ve just gotten word from Davey that the Pinkertons know we’re here. They’re looking for the camp as we speak, so we’ve got to go.”

His intense speech was followed by everyone leaving where they were, running around and trying to get things packed into the wagons, tents included. 

You were new to the ‘being on the run’ part of outlaw life, as even before when you were just a gunslinger, the law never chased you. You’d earned a reputation for killin’ folk, but the law deemed you harmless when they found out that you only shot those who wanted to shoot you first. You’d not ever committed a real crime among the citizens, and even paid your way for everything. It was only after becoming a Van Der Linde that you figured you were about to be in trouble. 

You had your entire living situation torn down and packed up within the hour, tying it all together and slinging it in the back of Arthur’s wagon. You came around the corner and saw that he was still packing up. Being here longer meant he had quite a few more belongings to take care of. 

“Need some help?” You smiled at him, ready to lend a hand. 

“You done already?” He responded to your question with one of his own, pleasant surprise in his expression. 

“Not much to pack away,” you reasoned, no longer waiting for him to answer you as you started dismantling his cot and rolling up the canvas around the iron bar pieces. 

You were happy to help him get done faster, you’re sure with his strength and size he’d be needed elsewhere soon. You did have a few questions for him, though. 

“I don’t think I ever asked… When did you all get here?”

“Not long before you did, I reckon. We used to be able to stay years in the same spot, the law would never catch us…” he shook his head, tossing some picture frames he had into a sack. “Times are changin’ for folk like us.”

“You were here before me?” You asked in confusion. Obviously they were at the camp before you… but you’d been in Agua Fria for over a year yourself. 

“Yeah, and we’d all heard the stories about Texas Red before we even met ya,” he chuckled, his speed increasing the more he saw other members of camp rushing with panic to get moving before sundown. “The day Dutch brought you back, I almost thought he was kiddin'.”

“Glad to know I made a good impression,” you teased, a laugh being huffed out with slight annoyance while you heaved his clothing chest up and into the wagon. Probably a heavier item you should have left for him, but then that wouldn’t be helping. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He assisted you in shoving the chest further in the wagon, since you struggled just slightly, and didn’t want to bend over in your skirt. “I just had it in my head that you’d be all big n’ scary.”

“You mean more like you?” you taunted, giving him a smirk to show you didn’t actually think he was big and scary. 

“I guess so,” he shook his head, throwing his sack of belongings in with the other junk. “But then I first saw you, talkin’ with Tilly and Abigail… you looked all scrawny and what not. I thought, this can’t be the kid I’ve been hearin’ about.”

“And what do you think of me now?” You asked honestly, stopping the haste of the afternoon for only a moment to share a gaze with someone special to you. He stopped too, a side smile pulling at his lips when he answered. 

“I think you’re much scarier, now…” he trailed, reaching his hand to touch your hair where it had grown just below your ears. 

“You think I’m scary?” You raised your eyebrows in disbelief, his eyes meeting yours. 

“Terrifyin’...”

He started to get closer, and in the setting light of the day, you almost thought he might close the small gap, but then-

“Arthur!” Pearson’s shrill voice rang out loudly, and you flinched away from the moment, coming back to reality. “I need you over here!”

“Just give me a damn second!” He shouted back, but by the time he’d turned his attention to you again, you’d jumped away from him from the startle, and the moment was cut short. “I better get over there…”

“I’ll finish up for you,” you waved him off, moving to the barrel with his shaving kit. It was one of the last things that needed packing. 

“I’ll owe ya,” he nodded, tipping his hat forward before having to run off. 

He wouldn’t owe you a damn thing. 

-

The gang traveled north and west for several days, until coming to a clearing in a nice little town called El Paso. What could be so great about this town? Well, for starters, the law was mighty thin in this region, and there were roads nearby that had rich folk traveling as well. Dutch said it was like an outlaw’s paradise… 

He’d also mentioned there was a railway station in the next town over, something to look into. 

Arthur had done so right away, leaving the newly set up camp for a few days to scope out the area and put on a good cover. He was always the best man for the job, so you couldn’t complain about him being away, but there was of course a downside. Neither you nor Arthur pulled a stunt in the new camp like you had at the old one, and with him being gone, it gave the men a bit of leeway to behave as they did before. 

It wasn’t as sexual as it had been, but their bad attitudes towards you, and now that you’re seeing it, the other women as well, was atrocious. You’d been so blind to it all when you didn’t have to deal with it first hand, but now that you did, it was constant. 

Bill was the worst, as you knew him to be. He often didn’t even wait for Miss Grimshaw to collect the laundry anymore, just throwing dirty shirts and trousers in your direction and telling you he needed it cleaned the next day. 

“Not my job, not my problem,” you threw the articles of clothing at him every time, and every time he’d just scoff and go to the next woman, who would do as she was told because, even though you’d lucked out in skill, the others still had to earn their keep somehow. 

Lucking out in skill didn’t even seem to be helping you recently. Every job you suggested you could help with, Dutch turned you down. It had even caused a fight with Hosea, who wanted you to go in his place. 

Hosea had kept his distance with you when your secret was first revealed. Not to be cruel or unfair, but because you’d been embarrassed about the whole thing, and he could sense you didn’t want to open up to anyone right away. 

He did, however, become far more acquainted with you on the journey to El Paso. 

“I think you’re a mighty brave person, you know,” he’d struck up the conversation. 

“Me? Brave? I just shoot folk,” you shook your head, watching the horses in front of you both as they towed the wagon you sat on. “Ain’t nothin’ brave about that.”

“Not for shootin’ folk… I think you’re brave for bein’ on your own as long as you were. Especially a young woman.”

“Well, I appreciate you sayin’ so… but nobody knew I was a young woman, it sort of helped.”

He’d nodded sweetly, giving you a smile and a pat on the shoulder. The gentle and comforting talks between you became common from then on. 

Arthur had come back to the camp one morning, when everyone had woken, bringing a few different things. His first stop was Dutch, obviously, giving the intel over so a plan could be formed. The next job was going to be important. If it went down well, then this little town could be a great place to settle for the months to come, but if not, it would allow you all to know just how involved the law in this town actually was. You’d heard it wasn’t much. 

When Arthur came out of Dutch’s tent, he made a beeline to you… or more specifically, your tent. He actually didn’t even see you sitting across from your living quarters when he approached it, but you watched him with great curiosity on what he was doing. He’d been distant since leaving Agua Fria and arriving here, and you wondered if he was trying to rectify that. 

He left your tent just as quick as he went in, and met your eyes with a small nod and a soft smile. He’d been caught. He just went on his way after that, and didn’t even bother to greet you properly. 

You furrowed your brows, dropping the rifle you were cleaning before going inside your tent. He obviously didn’t take anything, you knew that. You didn’t keep anything of value except for your pistol, thirty-two notches now carved into the stock, but you always kept it on you...

When you looked at your cot, you found only one thing out of place. A pretty orange flower laying against your rolled up woolen blanket. Its bottom petal was slightly bent, and you wondered if he had kept it in his satchel on the ride back to camp. 

It was very sweet of him to think of you, and bring it back. You don’t think you’ve ever told him how much you like the color orange, but you reckon he just brought back the flower without even thinking about the color. 

You wanted to go and thank him, to talk with him for the first time in several days. You missed him whenever he was gone… you always hoped he missed you, too. He probably missed everyone, but he brought you an orange flower.

He was somehow already on the other side of camp, hassling Pearson about something nonsensical you’re sure, getting the man riled up over probably nothing. Pearson was a decent guy, but he was a little obnoxious, so teasing him was something you could definitely condone. You thought about just marching up and breaking up the scene, but then thought it might be better to instead make a lesser deal of it, just like he did. 

The men left the flower with no words to be said, so you’d thank him for it the same way… unless of course he broke the silence first. 

You tucked the flower behind your ear, letting the orange color sit nicely against the similar shade of your hair. You ran over to Arthur’s shaving barrel, close to the edge of your living area, and checked how it looked before walking nonchalantly towards Pearson’s kitchen. 

They were still grobbling over nothing, but when you came to the table, leaning forwards on it they both stopped. 

“What can I do ya for, miss?” Pearson asked, having become a much kinder, albeit a little bit more sarcastic person to you since your secret came out. 

“Just wondering what’s for dinner tonight…”

“How about that, Arthur, she wants to know what’s for dinner,” the man laughed, hands on his hips when he looked back to the younger counterpart. 

“I’m goin, I’m goin,” he held his hands up in mock surrender, clearly knowing he was the one responsible for hunting today. He’d just gotten back, but of course they made him do damn near everything. “You wanna come with me, Red?” 

“Me? Huntin’? I’ve never been, I’d probably scare ‘em off…” you resisted slightly, but knew that if he asked you a second time there would be no hesitation. 

“I’ll teach ya,” he offered, nodding his head towards the horses. “Not like they’d get far with your shootin’, anyway.”

You followed him immediately, picking up your skirt and rushing up behind him. Hunting with Arthur seemed like a mighty good idea at first, until you realized Dutch would probably be upset with you for not finishing the rifles… Tossing it over in your head for only a moment more, you neglected the prospect of the rifles. 

You could tell that Dutch was slowly trying to keep you out of the shooting jobs, even if you were the fastest gun in camp. Somehow learning you were not a man had tainted his idea of you… the one he’d spoken so highly of that first day to Arthur and Hosea. You supposed that going along with Arthur could only help you in the long run. 

You went to saddle your horse, but he stopped you, a gentle hand on your wrist, letting go as soon as he had your attention. “We don’t need ‘em both, just ride with me.”

You nodded, doing as you were told and trying not to make a big deal out of it. He’d helped you up first, hands placed carefully at your waist when he heaved you upwards. He climbed up in front of you, and suddenly you didn’t know where to put your hands. You’d never ridden behind a saddle before, you never needed to. 

He sensed your awkward reaches, even if he didn’t see them. He adjusted himself on the saddle before meeting your hands behind his back and pulling them around his sides to hold on. Your breath caught in your throat from how casually he’d done it, and how softly he touched you. 

“That’s a nice flower in your hair, by the way,” he muttered, not even looking back before grabbing the reins and leading the horse out of camp. 

-

The train job had been decided, but not without long and strenuous arguments about the roles to be played. 

The first draft of said plan excluded you, and you didn’t even have to wonder why. None of the other women were included, either. 

The second draft of the plan included both you and Abigail, but as mere pawns instead of actual roles. 

The final plan will go as follows:

Abigail is going to make it so that a certain man never boards the train with his colleague. Fair enough, she is definitely the woman for the job, as even having her in the near vicinity of a man is distraction enough. You will board the train with the colleague, and lead him to believe that you’re frightened of the journey ahead, getting him to drink with you and become more ‘comfortable.’ After that, it’s up to you to lure him to the back of the train, where Arthur, Bill, and Dutch will be waiting to interrogate this man, and find out where his private safe is. From there, Javier, who will be at the front of the train, will cause it to stop by sticking up the enginemen so you all can hop off at a designated point. 

From there you’ll go find the man’s safe, and rob him before he even has a chance to understand what’s happened to him. This is the only chance you will have at this job, since the man in question will be leaving El Paso once and for all.

It sounds like a solid plan, except for the fact that it was suggested you don’t even need a gun. 

“Of course she needs a gun, Dutch, she’s the fastest one here,” Hosea argued, a hand running over his face. 

“If we’re not planning on shooting, what makes you think she needs to bring it with her? It could blow our cover,” Dutch insisted, arms waving around for emphasis. He didn’t even make a good point, because as it were, you always kept a gun on you in the holster on your thigh, a little present from the man you gave you flowers. 

“You’re sending her to do the most dangerous part of the job, she needs a weapon.”

“If Abigail doesn’t need one, then she doesn’t need one, either,” Dutch reasoned, but that just made you chime in. 

“Abigail should have one, too. Everyone involved on a job should have protective assurance, just in case,” you shrugged, uncrossing your arms and leaning on the table. “I don’t even leave camp without my pistol.”

Dutch sighed, having dug himself into a deeper hole the more he kept on talking. He was smart, and he had a way with words, but he wasn’t going to be able to pull something like this and now he knew it. You’d been attached to that pistol for far longer than you have been to the camp. 

“Alright,” he nodded, continuing his explanation of what happens after they find the man’s personal safe. 

The man in the plan was named Albert Templeton, and he apparently was a very wealthy man, looking to make it big in the west by covering as many territories as he could with his canning factories. From what Dutch says, he seems to be a very selfish, very ambitious, and very rich man. 

You agree to this job, unknowing of the way it will unfold, but when you finally board that train, handing over your ticket with your hands shaking, you don’t know what to do, suddenly. 

Everything is going according to plan, except for the fact that you have absolutely no experience in trying to get a man drunk on purpose. 

“You look, a bit frightened, miss, are you alright?” Mr. Albert Templeton asked, right after you ‘accidentally’ bumped into him. 

“Yes… Well, no… I’ve never been on a train before,” you huffed out, your stressed tone coming across perfectly for the job. “You seem like you’ve been on many.”

“That I have, my dear,” he smiled eerily, moving an unwanted hand to your hip to try and guide you to the bench he was sitting at. “Come and sit with me, perhaps I can ease your mind.”

“How gracious of you,” you played along, sitting down beside him in the seat closest to the window. You didn’t like feeling trapped between him and the wall, but there was no difference. You still had a gun up your leg if he tried anything stupid. 

“So, where are you headed?” 

“Oh,” you had forgotten to think of a backstory, so as quickly as you could, you made one up. “I’m going to visit my aunt. She’s very Ill, otherwise she would have come to see me. She knows I don’t like trains.”

“How unfortunate for her,” he nodded, snaking his arm behind you on the back of the bench seat, caging you in further. “I’m sure she’ll be happy for your company.”

“I hope so, we’ve always been a great comfort to one another.”

The conversation kept on like this for a while, until you realized you were getting closer and closer to the point of which Dutch needed him in the back, but he hadn’t even gotten to the bar of the train car yet. 

“Would you have a drink with me, sir? I feel that maybe it would ease my nerves a bit.”

He laughed, a smile on his face when he leaned back to you. “I never drink on trains. But I would be much obliged to buy you one, yourself.”

You started to panic from there. 

You smiled at him and nodded, getting him to stand up… however, before you got him to the bar, you tried to carefully and quietly take your gun from its holster, pressing it against the rib of the man before you. He froze, knowing what was happening immediately. 

“Don’t make a sound. Just keep walking until I tell you to stop, you hear?” 

He nodded, making his way to the end of the car, going into the next one, and the next one after that until you could see three familiar faces sitting and waiting for you. 

“What the hell is this?” Dutch asked, his eyes narrowing in on the gun in your hand. 

“He wouldn’t drink, had to come up with something else.”

Arthur ran a hand over his face. This is why you usually rode with him. You did things the way he would, and not with the gentle and intelligent touch of a female outlaw like Abigail. For all intents and purposes, you'd always been a man, and this was breaking the cycle for you.

“Please don’t hurt me, I have nothing you could want.”

“The hell you don’t,” Dutch manhandled Albert onto a cargo box, pulling his own gun and holding it to strike fear into the man. “We’ve heard about the safe.”

“What safe?” He played dumb, and then Dutch immediately got angry. 

“You see? This is why he needed to be drunk!” Dutch took out his anger for the situation on you, even though the majority of this was not your fault. 

“Told ya, she should be back at camp fixing buttons and shit with the others,” Bill shook his head, and you were about to pull your gun in his direction if he said another word. 

“He wouldn’t drink, it ain’t her fault. She still got him to us… I say we make him talk,” Arthur stood up, clenching his fists and intimidating the man by coming closer. “S’nothing I ain’t used to.”

“Do what you can, Arthur… and you,” Dutch pointed in your direction, his brow still angry. “Go back up there and make sure no one saw you pull that gun.”

You nodded, taking yourself away from the scene in order to keep your composure. Arthur stood up for you, but you could tell that even he was upset about straying from the plan. This was a big job, with many key elements. One thing going wrong could ruin it all.

You made your way back, but saw Javier rushing towards you in the bar car, his gun out as he tried to reach you. 

“Brooks,” he started to shove you back to the car you came from, and just over his shoulder you could see the men trailing not too far behind, looking like train security. “We have to go, they know we’re here.”

You started rushing for the last car again, tripping over your skirts here and there. This dress was not practical, and was far too formal for a job like the one you were pulling. You much preferred the one Arthur bought you, but Dutch insisted it didn’t ‘sell the story’ that you were trying to tell. 

“Why in God’s name are you back here?” 

Dutch didn’t have a minute to grill you, because Javier took the floor first. 

“They know we’re here, there’s about five men heading this way, now. Maybe more.”

Arthur sighed heavily, pulling his fist back to his side. He’d only hit Mr Albert Temlpeton a few times, but it seemed the job was going south, and he hadn’t said anything anyway. 

“Arthur, turn him loose, the rest of you, find cover… we’re gonna have to shoot our way out.” 

Albert taking off through the doors only allowed the train guards to know exactly where you all were hiding. With guns blazing, the five of you were able to get past the small group that had headed for you… but once you got to the civilian travel cars, there were more, and they had bigger guns, too. You got scared to pull a gun in a heavily crowded train car, especially one that had innocent men, women, and children inside. You held your aim, like always, but got scared when the second round of guards came for you. 

“Drop your weapons!” The man at the front of them shouted. “Get on the ground, now!”

“Or maybe we could walk right through,” Dutch was the first to shoot, nailing the man right in the face. It was challenging to stay focused on the task at hand, when so many people were screaming. 

A child was crying, and most everyone was just trying to duck in their seats as the bullets flew. You were too scared to shoot at first, seeing the windows break around you, and the high speed of the train causing the winds to blow inside the car, making it hard to hear anything. 

You tried to hold your ground, knowing you were a better shot than anyone here… but there comes a time in everyone’s life, when the chaos prevents them from doing the one thing they know how to… this was that moment for you. Everything was caving in. You’d completely ruined this job, and it was going haywire because of you. You put your friends, no, family, in a very dangerous position, and most of all, you put innocent men, women, and children on the front lines to fend for themselves. All because you strayed from the plan. 

You saw it, but it was too late… the man had pulled his gun directly towards you, and you barely had any time to react this time. You still fired first, and still shot him dead first, but his bullet still left the barrel, skewing downwards because of your own shot, and hitting you directly by your left hip. 

You collapsed into a seat, trying to get yourself back up. You started bleeding profusely with every steep movement you made, and once the last Guard had been shot down, Arthur saw what happened to you. 

“Red!” he shouted, reaching for your body, making sure you’d not been hit badly. He was relieved to see it was a hip shot, but the amount of blood concerned him greatly. “Can you stand?” 

“I can try,” you groaned out, holstering your gun before using him as a lift. 

The others went to the front of the car, not wasting any time, but as soon as they looked through the broken window, they could see more men quickly approaching.

“Shit, we can’t stop the train.” 

“We’ll have to jump from the back of this car,” Javier responded to Dutch, who was pacing back and forth, glaring daggers at you out of the corner of his eyes. 

“Are we close enough to the exit point?” 

“It doesn’t matter, the ground is even now, we need to jump before the bridge.”

Arthur was freaking out, trying to hold pressure to your hip and hold you upright, while they were talking about jumping off a train. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so stressed out about a job before. 

You start to get light headed suddenly, and sway in his hold, trying to keep yourself balanced, though the train is making it hard to do that anyways. 

The sound becomes fuzzy, but you can here when Dutch calls everyone back to the door of the cabin car. 

“Stay with me,” Arthur tells you, watching your head tilt forward and your eyes get heavy. He knew you would pull through, because even though you were losing a decent amount of blood, you were still on your feet, moving along with him. You were a fighter, he’d known since he met you. Probably because you liked fighting him on damn near everything he said. 

He stood at the edge of the rail, the only thing separating the gang from jumping the transport was a little dingy chain that hooked onto the edge of the cabin car. 

“It’s up here!” Javier shouted, removing the chain and getting ready to disembark. 

“We gotta jump, Red,” he tried to keep you conscious, and you nodded, but you were clearly too weak to do this yourself right now. 

You felt yourself being tucked closer to Arthur, his arms coming around you. You finally closed your eyes, unsure if they would even stay open on their own anymore. Then there was a lift and a jump. You felt the air around you flying fast until the wind got knocked out of you, hitting the ground. Arthur took the harder fall, but to be fair, he hadn’t been shot. 

You opened your eyes in a rush of adrenaline, but once you caught your breath, it started to fade again. 

Everyone stood up, including you, but you were still wobbling back and forth. 

“Well,” Dutch looked to Bill and Javier, “We’re alive, but we got nothing.”

“S’all the girl’s fault,” Bill spat out some blood from his bleeding lip and shook his head. 

You didn’t even have the motivation to call him out right now. Didn’t have the energy to stand, either. Before Arthur could even steady you, your head started throbbing, and you hit the ground again, hand over your open wound.

-

The sounds were familiar when you came to. The usual ruckus of the camp, nothing strange or out of the ordinary… except for when you tried to sit up you were immediately pushed back down. You had a look around and saw that you were not in your tent, but lying in Arthur’s cot. His gentle push was what kept you laid back, and you saw the look on his face when he found out you were awake. 

“Don’t get up, I gotta fix you so ya don’t bleed out.”

You didn’t say anything, just obeyed his instruction. 

He’d gotten that stupid puffed sleeve nonsense off of you, leaving you in a corset and chemise and a small petticoat. Of which he was having a hard time figuring out how to untie. 

“I’ll get it,” you leaned up slightly, groaning when you did. You untied the petticoat, and worked off the corset while you were at it. Being in a chemise and bloomers in front of the camp wasn’t an irregular thing, as it was standard sleepwear when on the run. There were not many normalities when being an outlaw, but even still, you nearly felt embarrassed being in such a skimpy state of dress, especially when he wasn’t even done. 

He looked to you, his hands on the hem of your chemise, and you nodded to him in permission. 

He pulled it back, only enough to see where the blood was seeping through. His face twisted in disgust of the wound before shaking it off and getting to work. You laid back and waited, knowing that when all was said and done, you didn’t want to watch yourself get stitched up. You’d never had to do it to yourself before, and thank God for that. 

“It was stupid, what you did…” He brought up, cleaning the wound with some whiskey on a rag. 

“I know,” you winced, squeezing your eyes shut. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

He paused his wording, unsure of what else to say to you. He’s sure getting shot was a revelation for you that you weren’t invincible, but he also wanted you to know you weren’t blameless in this endeavor, either. 

“You got some innocent folk killed today.” 

When the first and second stitch went in, you were about ready to die. Him telling you this was not helping with the outstanding pain. 

“You know I never meant for it to happen…” you trailed, thinking about those poor children that you heard screaming in the train today. Such a sad and significant moment, and you’ll never forget it. You knew you’d been the one to cause them such distress, and some of those innocent folk were dead now.

“You sure about that?” He looked up at you from his task, his hands still gently working your skin back together. His actions and words confused you, because they were so opposite right now, and you didn’t know why. 

“What do you mean?” You met his gaze, a furrowed brow on your face.

“As I see it… you used to kill a lotta folk just for fun before I met you.”

Why is he even bringing this up? You’d told him why you did what you did, and how much of a toll it took on you… so why now, when all this has transpired, would he bring up the origins of your gunslinger facade?

“Arthur… I did what I had to. They would have killed me first. I ain’t never started a duel in my life, n’ you know that,” you reminded him, and he seemed to understand that it was wrong of him to say. He didn’t apologize, though… just kept on with what he felt he needed to say. 

“Look, all I’m sayin is… you had one job today, and it felt like you went off the road just to spite Dutch,” he argued, tying off the thread that pulled your skin closed. There was still cleaning to be done around the wound, and some sort of bandage would need to be applied, just in case of excess bleeding… but you sat up, stopping him from finishing anything. 

“Is that what he told you?”  you asked, referring to Dutch, of course.

“No, I was wonderin about it myself.”

“I wasn’t tryna get anybody hurt. Dutch used to put me riding with you, remember? I always did good. Now he wants me to do a job he thinks a woman is suited for, and I’m not so good anymore. Why do you think that is?” You asked, the annoyance written all over your face and dripping in your words. 

“You could’ve called it off. We could have just told Javier to come back and wait it out until the next station. We’ve bailed on jobs before when it got too dangerous…” he explained, his voice raising just slightly again to meet your level of ferocity. 

You took a second to breathe when he spoke. In all honesty, you’d never had to leave a job before, because when you started riding with them as Texas Red, the jobs always went through. No one told you about the bail out rule.

“I didn’t know that...”

“Well you should’ve at least told us he wouldn’t drink. Then you wouldn’t be to blame.” He didn’t quite meet you at the calm state, his anger still peeking, even when yours had come down. Saying what he just said was about to make matters so much worse, though.

“You think I’m to blame?”

“I think you played a massive part in this shit hole, yeah…” he huffed out, nodding his head and looking at you as if that should somehow get you to agree with him. 

“I don’t wanna hear this anymore,” you scoffed, standing to your feet and grabbing your belongings. You felt the sting of the stitches pulling, and tried to be mindful of them, but the way he was speaking to you, especially while you bled on his cot, was not something you could take. 

“Get back here, I ain’t finished cleanin’ you up.” He stood to his feet, trying to take steps after you, but even injured, you were stubborn and quick on your feet, pulling away from his reach.

“Abigail will help me.”

“You stubborn ass, why can’t you ever just listen when you’re wrong?” He shouted after you, which had you turning on your heel to shout back to his face. 

“Maybe because I’m not!”

Your face didn’t even read anger as much as in did pain. Not the physical kind. The ailments you faced with your body, you took like a champ… but this pain in your heart and mind was far more complicated, and when he saw how saddened you were by him, he didn’t know what to do… but of course, his anger was still rising, though yours turned to something else.

“Damnit, Red… you’re gonna find yourself in a nice deep hole someday, and you’ll have pushed away everyone that cares to help you out of it.”

“I can climb out of it myself, then.” You muttered, taking the steps back to him so he could really look you in the eye when you said this… “I used to think you cared about me… wanted to help me. But you’re just like him.”

“Like who?” he asks, jutting his chin out for a moment to seem tough. 

“You’re just like Dutch… just want me to play the part of the sweet little pet that lures the men into your jobs. I won’t do it… I can’t do it, clearly.”

“That ain’t what this is about,” He grabbed your wrist as you went to turn away again, and you pulled it loose. “You know I think you’re talented with that gun.”

“Then why don’t you ever fight for me to use it? Why is it that every time Dutch wants to make me into something I’m not, you stand by and watch it happen?” You weren’t meaning it as a hypothetical question, you really wanted an answer. Standing here, the camp noise having been drowned out by your argument, you watched as he searched for something to say, but he couldn’t find anything… nothing that could save him, at least. “That’s what I thought… just stay away from me, Arthur.”

“Red?” 

“Leave me alone!”

-

You took to the new town, the argument with Arthur the days prior still fresh on your mind. You knew you’d messed everything up, and it was most definitely your fault. You can only see it now, Dutch giving a big speech while you’re away to convince everyone that you shouldn’t be doing big jobs anymore. If only he’d just given you Javier’s place on the train, and had Abigail or Karen go after Albert Templeton, the gang might be a couple thousand bucks richer right now. 

You’d not just taken to the town as the girl they wanted you to be, because that girl didn’t exist. 

There was only the girl you grew up as, and Texas Red, no in-between. It wasn’t the sweet Miss Brooks going into the bustling saloon of El Paso, it was Texas Red, the unkillable. 

Maybe that’s where you’d gone all wrong. Wearing dresses, letting your hair start to grow, and even wiping the muck off your face whenever it gets there… you’d practically handed them a reason to treat you differently. 

All of this is your fault. The mistreatment, the exclusion, the job gone wrong, everything. 

It’s the heavy weight on your mind when you roll up to the bar, gun hanging heavy on your hip, the now thirty-three notches becoming a bigger and stronger presence every time you reach for it. 

“Whiskey, double,” you knocked on the wooden bar slab, a grimace on your face while waiting for the drink. You put the money down immediately, just as always. It became a habit as soon as interruptions became common anytime you went for a whiskey. 

You threw back the first drink then ordered another, throwing that one back, too. You got into a steady rhythm until there was a tap on your shoulder. 

You turned around, eyes becoming glazed, and hands becoming tightly fisted. Whoever was bothering you has no idea how much of a mood you’re in, but if they aren’t careful, they’re gonna end up dead. 

“Hey, I know you,” the man spoke. He looked to be about early forties, with silver lines in his dark hair, and smile lines over his cheeks. 

You gave him a look, up and down, before you decided he was mistaken. 

“No, you don’t.” You turned back to the bar, but he tapped your shoulder again, and the pistol at your side was feeling oh so heavy, waiting for your hand to pull it. 

“Yeah, I’ve seen you,” he laughed, a broad and excited smile. “You’re that Texas Red fellar from down in Agua Fria.”

“Just ‘cuz I got red hair, it don’t make me Texas Red,” you slurred, slightly, the alcohol buzzing your senses, but not your reflexes. Your hands are practically itching to shoot something, or someone, and this guy seems like the perfect target. 

“Nah, I know s’you,” he seemed a little drunk, too… but probably not drunk enough to walk away. “Seen your face when you shot that farmer.”

“Farmer?” You don’t even recall a farmer-

“Robert Sims… good man that fellow,” he droned on, seemingly hesitant to get to the point. “But you were the better shot.”

“M’sorry if he was a friend’a yours,” you gave condolences, hoping it would shoo him away, but as you remember, they never go away. “I didn’t wanna shoot ‘im.”

“Nah, he wanted to shoot you,” the man nodded, backing away only slightly before pulling his coat back, revealing a pistol of his own, right on his hip. No notches. “I wanna shoot you, too.”

You rolled your eyes and heaved a breath, looking to the man with a direct gaze. “You’re too drunk, you’ll die.”

He tapped the wooden counter, where your unfinished drink was sitting. “You’ve been drinkin’ too, been watchin’ ya.”

“So you think it’s fair?” You laughed, knowing you were nowhere near drunk enough to miss even a moving target, and be fast enough to hit him first. Maybe your fingers had been itchin’ for a reason, and this was it. 

Shooting this man may not bring you joy, but it would bring some security. You’re still as good as they say, despite Dutch and some of the others back at camp. You’re still Texas Red, and you’re still unkillable. Earning the respect of this town, just as you did in Agua Fria would bring you that feeling of confidence that you had slowly been losing in the gang. 

“I think I like my chances,” he quipped, earning some oohs from the crowd in the bar. By now you both held almost every ear within the reach of your voices, and the attention was deafening. 

They always say that… Why do they always say that?

“Alright,” you turned back to the bar, slamming your drink. “Let’s take it outside.”

The cheering, followed by the chants of your challenger’s name were louder than you expected. They don’t know you, but they will. 

You set your pistol, taking thirty paces away from your opposer. As soon as you turn around, there’s a silence amongst the whole town. You watch the man’s hands, the alcohol doing nothing to stop your trigger fingers from getting ready. You never draw first. It’s already an unfair fight, why make it worse?

“Need me to count?” the man says, and you shake your head, thinking you ought to just shoot him. He’s an obnoxious bastard, but he’s cocky and confident, you’ll give him that. 

“I ain’t one for countin’,” you yelled, and saw that he almost seemed a little nervous, now. He was always nervous, but now it was on his face. He was drunk, and this was stupid. You should just shoot him in the hand and let him walk away… but you don’t. 

You’ve been angry since what happened with Arthur, and you have to take it out somehow. If you can’t drink in peace without ass-hats like this bothering you, then you just have to take care of the ass-hats. 

Suddenly, you see his hand dip, gripping the stock and beginning to pull it. You reacted like always, your hand on autopilot while your brain was elsewhere. 

The man was dead in less than a second, and you came back to reality with a hammering soberness once the shot rang out.

Thirty-four....

It was the adrenaline, finally kicking in, only long enough to give you a moment of clarity… and looking up from the dead man, across the way by the general store, stood Arthur. He was probably getting supplies for the camp. 

He’d stopped to watch, a look of disappointment on his face. He doesn’t think himself a good man, but he’s never had to go from town to town, striking fear into those he meets. He tries to be kind when he can, earning the trust of people, unlike you. You haven’t even earned the trust of the people in camp. You’ve lied to all of them.

The crowd’s cheers and encouragement pull you out of your haze, and a man jumps in front of you, separating your vision of Arthur. You didn’t want to see his sad eyes, anyways. 

Everyone pulls you back inside the saloon, and the music strikes back up again… maybe this ain’t so bad after all.

-

Ten drinks is a lot for anyone, but especially for you, who already had multiple drinks upon first walking into the saloon. No one else dared challenge you, nor did they want to. The drunker you got, the crazier you seemed to act, your reserved gunslinger facade melted right away, and you turned into something of a wild man. The people were very entertained by your stories, the ones about Agua Fria, and then of course traveling with a gang to explore the west. You left names out, of course. Just because you were drunk, didn’t mean you were stupid. 

It was after you started stuttering over your feet that two working girls came up to you. They were some of the most gorgeous women you’d ever seen, busty around the chest, with low necklines, and stunning faces framed by their bouncy brushed out hair. 

“Can I help you ladies?” You tipped your hat to them, a smirk on your lips from the last joke you told to the crowd. 

“We were hopin’ we could help you,” The blonde one spoke, and with a smile she started to lean against your arm. “We’ll knock the price for two…”

“That’s very kind’a you, but I ain’t gettin’ a room,” you told them, the same excuse you always had used for women of the night in Agua Fria. 

“We’ll get the room, handsome… just pay the price of one for a night,” the brunette girl said, trying to hang off your shoulder, running her hands over it. You had to slide back into the bar to avoid getting her hands on your chest. If she did then you’d be in deep shit. 

“How about I make a trip back here some other time, then I’ll come n’ see you two?”

The blonde girl didn’t seem to be holding back, her lips trailing mighty close to your ear. You always knew how to play the part, but you never expected that women would be falling over you this way. It was both alarming and reassuring.  

“You sure? Why don’t we just take a ride out back?” 

You were getting woozy, the way they pulled at your arms while you were leaning against the bar was swirling your head. 

“There ya are, Red!” Came a familiar voice from the side of you. “Knew I’d find you in here…”

“Arthur?” Your vision was only slightly fuzzy, but you could always make out the clear silhouette of the most towering and strongly built man you knew. 

“Thanks for findin’ my brother, girls,” he played it off, reaching for your arm to pull you forward. You resisted him at first. “C’mon Red, let’s get you a nice place to sleep tonight.”

“No,” you pulled out of his grasp, unwilling to be manhandled by the same person who told you all those awful things just a few days ago. “I wanna stay with my new friends.”

“They ain’t your friends, kid. C’mon, let’s go.” He tugged you forwards, heaving you up to stand on your own two feet, before picking you up like a hay bale, letting you dangle under his arm as he made his way for the stairs. 

“Hey! Let me down!” You cried, squirming in his hold. 

He’d already paid for a room for the night, but getting you up there was hell. “Would you stop fightin’ me?”

“No, I wanna go back downstairs…” You trailed, getting stood upright again as he shoved you into a room and closed the door. 

“If you do that, Texas Red is as good as dead.”

He locked the door and made sure to put a chair under the knob. He didn’t necessarily know how the folk in this town behaved yet. You’d seen more of it than he had since arriving. 

 “Ain’t no man ever killed me,” You droned on, your words pouring out like that of a child, with little to no thought. 

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You mean them pretty girls that wanted to take me for a ride?” You laughed, letting him push you until you were sat on the bed. He knelt down and helped you take your boots off before tugging your hat from your head, throwing it in a chair. 

“S’not the kinda ride you were thinkin’,” he sighed, unsure of if you even knew how drunk you were. 

“You mean the other kinda ride?” Your obnoxious and bellaring voice could nearly pierce the walls when you were this inebriated. 

“Would you stop bein’ so damn loud? Whole place is gonna hear you n’ yer blabberin’...”

“You’re just jealous cuz the girls were fallin’ all over me instead’a you.”

He rolled his eyes with a scoff. Those girls were seein’ an easy target. They thought you were a man they could distract and rob, and maybe have a little fun with along the way. 

“I’m sure that’s it… lay down and shut up, will ya?” He shoved you back into the bed, and you groaned, your head hitting even the soft pillows was jarring, and you were sure you’d be feeling it tomorrow. 

You figured you better do as you were told, with this situation feeling less ideal the more sober you got. Each minute passed by made you realize just how much shit you would be in with him once you woke up tomorrow. Still, you were drunk enough to start raking over all the earlier thoughts that lead you here in the first place. 

“Arthur?” 

“What?” He laid back on the other side of the bed, crossing his arms and trying to rest… but of course you weren’t done. 

“Do you think I’d be better if I were a real man?” 

“No, I do not.” He huffed, his tone flat and his motionless figure unchanging.  

“Why?” You turned on your side to look at him, and boy, he looked handsome in this light. Barely illuminated through a window, but you could see the dark outline of his features.  

“You’re just fine as a woman,” he claimed, still unchanging in position. 

“But everyone hates me as one, they love when I’m him.” You liked being him, too. You were confident as Texas Red. Stronger, Faster. Braver…

“They don’t hate ya, they just have different ideas about ya… not that it’s right.” He thought that maybe you’d drop it from here, maybe pick it up another time when he was less tired, and you were more in your right mind. 

“What are your ideas?” 

“Huh?” He finally turned to face you, unsure of what you were even talking about. 

“About me… what are your ideas?”

“Well… I happen to think you’re real strong, and smart. I think you’ve got gifts that even I don’t understand, and you’re good at using ‘em… I also think you’re a caring person, even when you shouldn’t be.” He listed only the things that came to mind, but he knew there were so many more that he was only not remembering. 

“Those are all good things…” You supposed. 

“Guess so,” he nodded, watching your face contort, as if you were debating on telling him something. You were still stone cold drunk, even if there was a hint of normalcy to you at this point. You wouldn’t remember any of it tomorrow, of that he was sure. 

“I think I love you, Mister Morgan,” you let out, looking at him, but not waiting for a reaction. Even in your tarnished state, you’d just wanted him to know what you were feeling.

“No you don’t, s’just the whiskey,” he argued, his whole body tensing up in fear of how to respond to this drunken revelation. Drunk words are sober thoughts. Everyone knows that. 

“I do, I love ya more than anything,” you rambled on, completely entranced with the silhouette of him against the cool light of the moonlit windowsill. 

“If you really do, you gotta tell me when you’re sobered up,” he instructed. He wanted it to be true, hell, he’d thought it might have been true when first arriving here… but the train job seemed to put you both at square one again, and he was getting tired of it. There was so much he wanted to say to you, but he couldn’t risk being wrong about you feeling the same way. He’s lost too much love in this life to blindly pursue it again. He was tired of getting his heart stomped on.

“I’ll tell you… Swear it,” you crossed your heart, giving him a doe eyed smile. “Do you love me?” 

“I can’t tell you yet,” he shook his head, looking back up to the ceiling. 

“But I told you…”

“I know, sweet girl… just be patient, alright? I’m gonna get there, promise.” 

You nodded, turning on your own back and staring up at the ceiling, a single crack in the painted plaster going along the corner of it, keeping you distracted enough to stop thinking about Arthur and fall asleep next to him. 

-

Tags: @photo1030 @sheepdogchick @snoopysshark @strvberrydoll @yyiikes @phantasyy @puffyhairedhipster @scorpio-echo

[bomberqueen17]

lurkey lurkey

so i had in my mind been like "when the farm season is over i'm gonna get so much done" and also in my mind been like "bitch be real i am going to be decompressing uncontrollably and will achieve nothing" and just as one might have predicted, i have split the difference, spinning wheels wildly and also achieving little.

i did do a final definitive trial of ADHD meds, long put-off because the season was too hectic, and decided that yes, my impression of July was correct, I suck at being medicated LOL

I did start publishing the 150k of incoherent fanfic I started writing in August while insane, and I might keep going on that; there's a small audience but a lovely one

and I really really did take the characters from that fanfic and shove them into a new story and I have written several tens of thousands of words of notes but in the last couple of days I actually think I have begun to write a draft. So.

If anyone is interested in possibly doing some beta-reading, even just cheer-reading, of a draft of an original novel about bisexual tall ship sailors in a solarpunk setting, I should mention that the stay-at-home wife is turning out to be the B-plot heroine (it might actually be the A plot) and the Admiral's sassy gay socialite husband is doing some heavy lifting I hadn't expected, but on the other hand, the children are less onscreen than I'd expected. And I'm not sure where the sex is going to fit in, if at all. But there is still an OT3.

So let me know about that. I'm not quite ready with a shareable draft but I'm two chapters in and cautiously optimistic that this is actually a story. Maybe?

But I'm about to head back to the farm for the turkey processing ordeal, which is a solid week of extremely hard work with a major holiday in the middle with family obligations and then more work immediately afterward, so I don't expect to have time to work on it for a bit. But it's ruminating in there, I promise.

I have a snippet, which is a first-- everything I've written so far I've hated upon rereading, so that's why I think I'm making progress. I've renamed everyone but kept the first names mostly, where I didn't swap genders. This is the opening of chapter 2, so we've already had Technology Backstory With Smart Wifey, and Action Sequence At Sea With Explosions, and now it's time for Character Backstories:

Someone shouted his name from down the street, and Tom laughed aloud, handed his datapad to the mildly alarmed merchant captain walking beside him, and turned, holding his arms out and bracing himself to receive the sudden arrival of thirteen stone or so of Yardley at full velocity. James always jumped and Tom always caught him, that was how it had worked since they were about thirteen, and he spun around to absorb some of the excess velocity and then kissed James soundly on the mouth before setting him down.  “Atkins, you fucker,” Yardley said. He’d knocked both their hats off. He was tan, straight off a run from around the Storms, and had been long-scheduled to meet them here. Constellation’s limping had slowed them down so much they were eight days overdue, so he’d likely been hanging around a while now. “I hear you have a good excuse for being late.” “I don’t know that it’s good,” Tom said, retrieving their hats and putting Yardley’s back on him. Then he realized it was the wrong hat, so he switched them. “But it couldn’t exactly have been avoided.”  James grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him again, and it could read as just friendly to a casual observer but Tom knew it was not, and smiled, curling his tongue wickedly but briefly behind James’s teeth before pulling back. James kept hold of his face and frowned. “You look like shit,” he said. “Thanks,” Tom said. “You look like you’ve been lying around Barka drinking and fu--” He rerouted the sentence, remembering they weren’t alone. “Making friends.” “Well,” James said modestly, preening, “naturally.”

[jettboat]

Magnus Archives AU - The Laughter

--------------------------------------------------------

Ren: Statement of Martyn Littlewood, Grian Solidarity, Jimmy Solidarity, Mumbo Jumbo, and Impulse SV. Regarding a case of constant laughing over a phrase. Recorded by Ren Dog, head archivist of the Life Institute. Statement begins.

*Snickering can be heard in the background*

Ren: Alright, I have some water here for you guys... You look like you all need it... who wants to start?

Martyn: *Out of breath* I'm pretty sure if we drink anything we'll spit it out... We were at my house, just messing around, when I cracked a joke by pointing at Jimmy when he came out of the hallway and yelling "AHA"

*The four dissolve into a fit of laughter*

Ren: And now you all can't stop laughing?

Grian: Worse, if we don't say- the word, then it just-

*Grian made a muffled noise, like he was trying to trap the word in his mouth*

Grian: AHAlways finds a way in the sentence!

*The group made an attempt to hold in the laughter and have a chance to breathe, unfortunately, it didn't last long*

Mumbo: AHAnd we can't stop! Did we mention that? I don't even find it funny anymore!

*There was a soft thump*

Jimmy: *Muffled against the table* It's mAHAking my chest hurt.

*Soft giggles can be heard*

Ren: Do any of you know how this could happen? Did you see anything out of the ordinary? Hear maybe?

Impulse: I bought this recently AHAt a store. Looked neat. Martyn used it to look at Jimmy that first time.

*Through the giggles there was a sound of the chairs creaking as the group turned in their seats*

Martyn: Don't look at me! How was I supposed to know it was an AHArtifact of chaos- or whatever it is?

*More giggles*

Ren: Impulse? Can I see that spyglass? Thanks.

*A pause*

Ren: Martyn, you looked at Jimmy through this, right? Did you all start laughing then?

Martyn: It stAHArted with just Jimmy and I, then the others joined in after a few beats.

*Grian's laugh could be heard the loudest, though he made a loud sigh afterwards, like he was deflating*

Ren: Let me just...

*Shuffling can be heard*

Mumbo: WhAHAt are you-

*There was a shattering sound, louder than the laughter... then the laughter died down*

Ren: Shattering the lense seemed to do the trick! Definitely keeping this though, if you don't mind, Impulse.

Impulse: No no, keep it. Never wanna see it again... Hey, I didn't say the word!

Jimmy: Yay! We're free!

Martyn: Ohhh I'm gonna be ill...

Mumbo: I need a nap. A long nap.

Grian: Thanks, Ren.

Ren: No problem, dudes. But just to make sure you're all okay, I'm going to have you all stay the next few hours here.

Martyn: Is that water still up for grabs?

--------------------------------------------------------

Ren: Follow up to the last statement regarding the laughter.

They all seem to be doing fine, they all drank some water and relaxed until I was sure they got their giggles out of their system.

The spyglass has been locked away with a warning label. Hopefully, no one will pick it up for a while.

It is odd though... How can a spyglass suddenly make everyone laugh so hard they get sick?

--------------------------------------------------------

Random little spin off au cause it sounded really fun!

Everyone should go listen to Magnus Archives if they like a little horror, very fun listen!

[fairytsuk1]

no caller id | (s)

apart of maki's kinktober: the 2024 anthology

prompt: ghostface, exhibition/voyeurism, stalking

pairing: alex quackity x reader

words: 6.1k

warnings: scream!au, mentions of murder and violence, stalking, exhibition and voyeurisms, stockholm syndrome, friends to lovers, masturbation, phone sex, oral sex, vaginal sex, condom usage

There were few things you and Alex disagreed on. You had your moments, sure, but you were thick as thieves. Anyone and everyone could see that. You were his, and he was yours, “it’s totally not romantic, just platonic companionship!”

So, you got along well. Horror movies, though… That was one unfortunate, disagreeable thing between you two. You would go all in with the popcorn and the candy and top it off with a fuzzy blanket draped over your form. Alex would signify his leave the minute you got comfortable before acquiescing and sitting next to you, face anxious and full of fear as he sat still.

He just wasn’t the type of person to indulge in such media. That’s why seeing Alex so enthralled in the Ghostface killings happening around town was so utterly shocking. He flips his phone towards you, and you’re graced with gory crime scene photos and a news article, “Alex! I don’t wanna see that.”

Alex sighs and nods before showing you another photo as he leans across your countertops. He’d come over for a late-night study session, but after too many Celsius drinks, it was safe to say that you were not going to pass your exam.

“This happened right by your dorm! You should see, you’ve gotta stay safe with that killer out there.”

He says it in the midst of your kitchen, wearing your too-big t-shirt and too-big sweatpants. He was fretting over you. It’s so domestic, your heart squeezes at the fond way he gazes at you; he’s warmth and love that tastes like the finest wine. You couldn’t get too distracted admiring the dotted freckles on his cheeks and wisps of dark hair, no. That wasn’t platonic of you. You shake your head, “I don’t care. I just don’t wanna get freaked out by that stuff.”

Alex hums and scrolls some more. He’s withholding, and your fingers come to poke at his ribs, “what?”

“You probably don’t want to know who died then, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

You give him an incredulous look with raised eyebrows. Alex makes a face and looks away before snapping back to look at you. He hems and haws before the words slip past his lips faster than he can stand them.

“Carlos Rodriguez, ring a bell? Says here he was dismembered walking home–”

“Oh god! Stop, that’s…” horrifying.

“That was the guy you went on a date with,” he pops a grape into his mouth like it was the most casual thing in the world, “right?”

“Yeah, yeah. It was.”

He observes you for a moment. Your eyes look guilty, and he can’t place why. It makes something inside of him twinge. He’s rounding the counter in seconds and wrapping an arm around your shoulder in a protective embrace. Alex smells like warm musk, spicy with a hint of cinnamon. You instinctively curl towards him and bury your face in his neck. He was always comforting.

Alex preens when you go in for the hug, feeling your chest squish against his as he pulls you close to him, “it’s alright. He’s in a better place now! You have me; I’ll keep you safe.”

It’s a sweet sentiment. As if Ghostface would come after the two of you. You try not to hone in on his ‘you have me.’ He was considerate of your feelings and wanted to make you feel safe. Your heart pitter-patters in your chest. His hand rubs small circles on your back, and you shudder, pressing closer to his warmth.

You both stay like that. Alex keeps you enveloped within him for as long as he can, purring soft comforts into the shell of your ear. His lips brush against the sensitive skin before he picks you up into his arms and drags you to the couch. 

“Come on. It’s movie night!”

It doesn’t really leave your mind, though, even as you sidle up close to Alex while re-watching your favorite movies.

“And you’ve known Alex for how long?”

A gaggle of your friends sit around your dorm, Christina being the first to start the interrogation. It’d been a week since Carlos had been killed, and you’d been spending all your time with Alex. It was for safety, you said. It’s just so nothing happens, you reiterated. Your friends knew better.

“Five years? Six?”

“Oh my god! He wants to date you,” Imane exclaims. “It’s obvious, he buys your lunch, you guys cuddle: you just need to man up!”

“Woman up,” Noah emphasizes before sipping on his beer. “But I agree, he’s got it bad for you.”

You sit in the center with flushed cheeks, “we’re just friends, guys!”

“Friends who wanna fuck,” Christina adds with a laugh.

“But isn’t it suspicious he hasn’t made a move yet? Like, what’s he waiting for?”

“Guys, come on. He’s not bad or suspicious or anything! He’s just shy…”

You defend your man, but Noah blurts out the unthinkable. The inconceivable.

“Maybe he’s Ghostface!”

The silence was deafening against your speakers, humming a tune of bedroom pop; you could hear your blood rushing in your ears. You all pin Noah with a deep stare. How could he say that?

“That’s not funny, Noah.”

“I’m not saying anything! I’m just saying maybe he doesn’t want to date you because he’s too busy chopping up people’s bodies or something.”

“Noah! Enough,” you cry with hands covering your ears. “I’m not listening to you! I don’t want to listen to you.”

“Listennn, I like the guy. Trust-wise? He’s on my list.”

What if he was? Can you tell? You’re not sure, and you think about it for a while. There was something about the Ghostface persona that you’d initially joked about being hot, but that was before it hit so close to home. You were unsure and unsettled. Alex couldn’t be capable of something so horrid. He was your best friend and, admittedly, your crush. It just wasn’t believable.

You’re stuck in your head for the rest of the kickback. Alex had said he couldn’t come; he was “swamped with homework.” It wasn’t exactly believable since you shared a Google Calendar together: even more definitive proof of you two toeing the line between friends and lovers, a sentiment echoed by your friend group.

The sun sets into an inky black night, and your friends are filed out of the room. You’re left alone and freezing. A hot shower might do you some good. You take your time. The bathroom fills with its warm steam as you turn the knob and let your clothes drop one by one. Your phone rings. Your wrist is dampened from the brief spray of water, pulling out your arm to decline the call.

They call again, and you’re huffing as you swing your phone up to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” a gritty voice filters through and purrs your name. “Getting ready for bed?”

You know in your heart who it is. That telltale voice, the way he repeated your name… Ghostface had asked you a question, and your legs tremble as your mouth gapes, “it’s in your best interest to answer.”

“Yes! Yes, I am,” you squeak out.

“That’s nice. I like your panties. Teddy bears? How cute.”

“How do you know that?”

Your voice is firm, yet its slightest wobble makes Ghostface chuckle. This couldn’t be happening. It was impossible. The shower drips and sputters in the background as your breathing grows heavier. It was impossible.

“Let’s play a game. Tell me your favorite scary movie.”

Unshed tears glisten in your eyes, “I don’t want to.”

“You have to. What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“I don’t know! Please, I don’t–”

“I’m not gonna kill you, so just answer the fucking question, pretty girl.”

Rivulets of tears stream down your cheeks as you choke out an answer. The panic and sickening arousal courses through you. He kept complimenting you, making you feel all gooey inside, all while the threat of his power loomed over you like a fog that grew thicker every moment you stood in fear. He grew on your fear, he devoured it whole.

“I like the Chucky movies.”

Ghostface laughs, and it’s so familiar, but then he’s going from joyful to mad as he teases you over the phone.

“Ah, with the doll? Not as big of a fan of me, hmm?”

“Y-You’re scaring me,” you whisper, phone clenched in your fist. “What do you want from me?”

There’s a deep pause before he continues.

“I just wanted to play with you before bed. You should show yourself off more,” he hums and then sighs. “Enjoy the shower, pretty.”

He can’t help but add, “you don’t know what you do to me.”

Click. Ghostface hangs up, and your dreadful face stares back at you in the mirror. Were you meant to feel slick between your thighs as Ghostface lulled sweet compliments towards your body? No, it was wrong! It was so bad that you had to gnaw on your lip to prevent yourself from pressing the “call back” button.

Water streams down your forehead and nose, pooling at your feet before sliding down the drain. Your hands run through your soaked strands with a slight tremble as you sniffle, wondering if that murderer stands under a similar stream of water to watch crimson flow down the drain. You can’t get it out of your head as you towel off and slip on silky pajamas. Your heavy body sinks into the covers, and you stare at the ceiling. It’s almost on instinct for you to reach over with a huff and pull up Alex’s contact.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I can’t sleep,” you murmur as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “Will you come over?”

You can hear him yawn, and you’re quick to apologize even as he waves you off, “don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

Barely ten minutes pass by before a gentle knock sounds at your door. There’s a stream of light as he enters that shines and is then blown out when he closes the door behind him.

Alex tiptoes in, toeing his shoes off by the door, “I’m here.”

You’re already breathing heavily and scooting over to give him more room. Alex looks at your sleepy eyes that stare back at him in the dark, joining you and slipping under your fluffy duvet to get close to you. You aren’t touching, but you’re so damn close. You need him closer, and the need to feel his skin against yours is overwhelming your entire being.

“Can we cuddle?”

Alex adjusts with his head on his hand, arm bent, and lying on your pillow as you snuggle a little closer, “yeah. C’mere.”

A buff arm wraps around your figure, and it’s heavenly. You tuck your face into the crook of his neck and inhale his freshly showered scent, making you instantly relax in his arms. Your feet tangle with his, and he lets out a soft hiss at the cool feeling of your toes against his ankles. You both fall asleep, tangled in soft breaths, and the comfort of muscle looped around you. As you dream of nothingness, it then turns into something hapless.

“...Alex?”

Your voice is dreamy and wispy. You can hardly speak out, let alone yell out. Ghostface and Alex sit facing each other, and you call louder, eyes fluttering and blurring as you draw closer. You know it’s a dream, but you can’t help but take it as fact, as reality.

“What are you doing?”

They both turn towards you, Ghostface’s mask shaped in a long, menacing grin as he tilts his head towards you. Blood starts seeping from the edges of the mask and runs down its contours as it continues staring into your soul. You turn towards Alex, horrified to see him with a sickening grin as ruby red drops splatter on his face, “what’s wrong?”

There’s no reply as they both reach for you in a desperate bid to make you join whatever fucked-up seated circle they were reveling in. Revelling. That was the reason Alex was smiling. You awake with a gasping start.

It’s hard to focus on classes, on homework, on your relationships. You’d be holed up in libraries and study rooms with your ringer on in case another killing happened. They did happen, two in the same week. You couldn’t stop thinking, wondering if he’d sweet-talked his victims before brutally shoving the knife in deep till the fight leaked out of them. Did he call them, too?

You’d have told anyone, but there was no one to tell. Your friends would encourage you to tell the police, and there was no excuse for hiding something as crucial as a phone call from Ghostface. You’d be vilified within seconds. You couldn’t tell Alex, and it wasn’t even your fault. Alex had been distant. Busy, he’d said. Liar, you bit back.

He blew you off on the days you typically get lunch. He packed his bag up quickly as he bid you goodbye. The eye bags on his face only got darker and deeper, you were feeling worried. Maybe he was just as affected by the killings as you were. Just as affected by Ghostface as you were. It was still hurtful.

It hurt even more, knowing that your heart would beat rabbit fast at the thought of him. It was clear now, crystal. You liked Alex; you only wanted Alex. You thought this was mutual. You cuddled, were close, and shared your first kiss at a dumb high school party. Maybe he didn’t feel the same or care about your crestfallen expression as he urged ahead to leave class early.

You tried to repeat to yourself that he was just busy. Though you were unaware of it in his absence, Ghostface had you right where he wanted you. Open, pliable and all his. The phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Ghostface elongates your name, and you can hear his smirk through the phone. “How are you?”

You should just hang up. You shouldn’t even entertain it, he needed to leave you alone. You press the phone closer to your ear.

“Please, stop calling me!”

“Mmm, no. I want to talk to you. Don’t deny me.”

“You just wanna talk because you’re a freak,” you retort and sit up in bed with your hands angrily fisting the sheets. “Leave me alone.”

“Freak?”

Ghostface bursts into a peal of deep laughter. It’s mocking, and you wonder if he’s watching you.

“The only freak here is you refusing to hang up the phone.”

“I-I’m not refusing! I’ll hang up right now–”

“But you won’t,” he interjects quickly. “I know you won’t.”

“And how do you know that? Maybe I’ll call the police!”

“I know you won’t do that, either.”

He’s right. You’re too stricken and impulsive, fighting every word he says with a monologue. Your teeth worry your lips as you take a deep breath, “are you watching me right now? Like in the shower?”

“Yes,” his breathing seems deeper. “I’m watching you right now. You look fantastic.”

“I’m just in my pajamas.”

“I like how they look.”

You shouldn’t indulge in this any longer. It was so wrong, and you were making yourself so vulnerable. Socked feet cross as you turn to glance out your window; there’s nothing there.

“You do?”

“Yes.”

A hand that has a mind of its own comes to the hem of your shirt. The mingled breaths between you two nearly echo on the call, and you’re slipping a hand under the cotton to touch your stomach.

“That’s a nice sight,” and there’s a rustling of fabric as he seemingly shifts positions. “What do you think you’re doing, hmm?”

“Testing you. If you were gonna kill me, you would’ve done it when I was in the shower.”

“I’m not so cliché.”

“Really? I beg to differ,” and you’re not sure where the confidence comes to set your phone down and peel your top off from your body.

Your nipples harden instantly as the cool air. You sit with your chest exposed and a rapid heartbeat, quickly putting the phone to your ear just to catch the briefest groan, “are you still there?”

“Of course. Take off your shorts.”

His command makes you hesitate. Were you really going to go through with this? Ghostface’s voice crackles in the still air, “don’t be shy.”

The drawstring is undone in seconds, loose fabric slipping down your thighs to your ankles before you unceremoniously kick them away.

“There, I did it,” you whisper as if someone was listening to your debauched call. There’s a long stretch of silence and rustling. “Hello?”

“You look really sexy like this,” he whispers in a breathy tone.

If you listen even closer, the wet squelch of him fisting his cock is obvious. Your hand starts at your collarbone and dips to squeeze your tits, “aah…!”

“Play with them, let me see.”

It doesn’t matter that he’s watching you from God knows where; your eyes slip closed as pathetic mewls escape your lips with every grope of your fingers.

“A-Ah, fuck,” you whisper before laying back to let another hand follow the curve of your sternum to the flat of your tummy. Ghostface openly moans when your manicure nails brush against your waistband. He moves his hand faster; you’re intoxicated by every ‘thwip’ of his fist as he jerks off.

“I wish I could touch,” his grunts echo, and he teases himself lewdly with his thumb running over his leaky slit. “I-I’ll fuck you so good.”

Your clit is throbbing when you finally start rubbing pathetic little circles. Writhing, your lips part to breathily whine out, “Ghostfaceee!”

“Ohmy, fuck. Put them inside. Fuck yourself, pretty.”

It’s easy to do what he says, your whole greedily sucks your fingers in deep. Your hand tweaks your nipple while your toes dig into your plush bed, “fffuck me! Oh my god, feels so good!”

“Gonna blow my load all over you—ngh, shit. I can’t wait to touch you for real. Yeah, yeah; fuck. Soak ’em for me.”

Ghostface’s rambling spurs you on, and your fingers rub right against that spongy spot that makes you convulse and gush all over your hand.

“Oh, fuuuck!”

Your face presses hard into the pillows as he cums. You could imagine his hips popping up as he came all over his knuckles. A few minutes pass, and the only thing audible is your mingling breath while you both come down from your eyes.

The phone is pressed to your ear as you eagerly ask if he’s still there.

“I am,” he says slowly. “Have a good night.”

“W-Wait!”

You call back several times, but they all go unanswered. He leaves you spoiled and naked in bed with a slick drying on your inner thighs.

The post-nut clarity left you sleepless and wondering if you had just made the biggest mistake of your life.

The guilt wears down on you like a weighted blanket; every square inch of your body can’t stop imagining the voice, and the guilt coats you in another heavy layer of shame. You try to fight back, but the fabric is never-ending, and you’re useless against its power.

You had to tell someone. Anyone. It has to be Alex; no one else needs to know anything other than him.

[you]: hey

[you]: will you come over?

[you]: need to talk to you

[alex]: be there in a few <3

The heart makes you smile. Locking your phone and setting it aside, you tug your knees to your chest in waiting. How would you tell him? More like admitting to him since you were undoubtedly hiding this fact of admiration because it was so shameful and wrong. Alex knocks lightly on your door, and your voice is shaky when you call, “come in!”

He looks calm, if a bit confused. Alex’s eyes scan you before sitting beside you on your plush bed. He always looks at you with those amber eyes that show pure devotion.

“What’s got you all wound up, huh?”

A gentle hand releases your knees from your embrace, Alex’s arm slinking past the back of your neck to cup you close by the shoulder. You tuck yourself into his side with ease. He hums for a bit, rousing you with a shake.

“Hello?”

“Sorry, it’s just… I don’t know. Something happened.”

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yes! I’m okay,” you take a deep breath, and your head tilts up to peer at him with anxious eyes. “Just don’t freak out that bad, okay?”

He doesn’t reply, only maintaining eye contact as his thumb rubs circles into your soft skin.

“Ghostface… called me. We had a conversation.”

“...What?”

He says your name with a laugh, “you probably just got prank called!”

“No, Alex. I’m serious! Please,” you grab his shirt and tug him so close that your noses brush. “I talked to Ghostface, seriously. You need to believe me.”

“How do you even know it was really him, hm?”

Oh, you knew. The telltaletelltale scratchy voice. The deep, mirthy laugh. How he coaxed you to orgasm through simple words of, “you can go harder than that; I’ve seen you.”

“I-I just know. It was him, he was stalking me.”

“Okay… so Ghostface is coming after you?”

“I don’t know what he’s planning! I guess so,” you bury your face into his beauty mark-dotted neck. “I don’t know what to do. What if he’s just waiting to kill me?”

“No way. He’d be stupid, you already told me. I’m, like, almost a witness to it.”

That was true. Now that Alex knew if anything happened… you’d have someone to back you up. You squeeze him in gratefulness.

“Then what should I do? Hire a bodyguard!?”

“I don’t think you have bodyguard money,” he teases. “But I can always walk with you anywhere, everywhere. And what if–no, never mind.”

“Alex, you need to tell me everything you’re thinking,” you urge.

He looks apprehensive, teeth tugging his lip between them to gnaw at the sensitive skin. He looks all around your room, his eyes landing on a framed photo of the two of you at an amusement park. Alex is grinning while holding a peace sign; your hair flies wildly and without abandon as the sun shines down on you two, “what if we found a way to catch him? You know, set a bait.”

Your face twists up immediately.

“Bait? I’d be the bait! This is a horrible idea–”

“Hear me out! I’d be waiting there and see if he shows up. You could make sure it’s obvious you’re alone. Ghostface comes, I tackle him, and boom! We call the police, and he’s finally gonna be held accountable.”

Alex eyes you, “what do you say?”

It was such a dumb idea. Every part of you screaming to lock the door and shut the blinds. But you don’t. Alex texts you periodically to check in, but the plan was just an unsafe waste of time for a while. But your phone rings at half past eleven.

“...Hello?”

“Hiya,” he croons your name, and your blood runs cold.

“I’m hanging up!”

“Don’t you fucking dare, or I’ll gut Alex myself.

You whimper, “I don’t want to die!”

“Then play a game with me. How about warmer or colder?”

It gives you a sickening pause. You held Alex and your own life in the palm of your hands, the threat of losing what means most to you evident. Your valued life and love would be lost through the gaps of your fingers like rivulets of clear water. You stand.

You had to be brave for both of you.

“Are you in my apartment?”

“Now, you’re playing,” and he chuckles over the phone.

A thick gulp sticks in your throat as you swallow. Something takes you to the kitchen where you peer around the corner to gaze into the yellow-lighted tiles and counters filled to the brim with your things, “colder.”

“Where the fuck are you?”

Ghostface has no reply. You move away from the kitchen, soft steps padding against the ground like a knowing prey animal. You glance at the living room, eyes scanning for a Ghostface-shaped hiding spot.

“Warmer,” his voice lulls, and he sounds so fucking amused that it makes your heart clench.

“Where’s Alex?”

Ghostface has no reply, and you frustratedly groan at him over the phone, “watch your tone.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re bratty today, hm? All wound up over Alex?”

“Just stop talking about him!”

It makes warmth spread all past your cheeks and ears. You venture forward and stare at the looming hallway before you. Finally, you registered the tremble in your knees as they knocked against each other.

“Hot.”

Your hall closet stares menacingly at you, and your stomach drops. You got to turn, but his voice commands you to stop, “freezing!”

There’s a shake in your lip as your ears fill with salty tears that threaten to spill over onto your cheeks. You blink them away and take step by step closer. Breathing grows heavy and restricted before you’re standing before the hall closet.

“You’re on fire.”

The door is yanked open forcefully, revealing beige and white towels with silk sheets. There was no one there. He lied! Only then, does Ghostface leap from your bedroom door to wrap his arms around you from behind. You try to scream, but a gloved hand slots easily over your mouth as he begins to tug you.

You kick and scream and cry like a petulant child as you fight with all your power. He doesn’t seem all that interested in your pleas. He only grunts softly as you land whack upon whack on him. However, he’s undeterred as he hoists you up like a sack of potatoes on his shoulder.

“No! No, lemme go! Let. Me. Go!”

“Come on,” he drawls your name as he lays you flat and helpless on your back against the couch.

He easily fits over you and pins your wrists to the fluff of the furniture. The two of you stare at each other, and you’re panting wildly with fear and adrenaline. Ghostface adjusts to straddle you, sinking down till his hips are flush against yours.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“A-About what?”

“Fucking me. I know you have, you wanna know how I know?”

“Yes! Yes, please, just–”

The mask is ripped away to reveal a harsh, shocking truth. It’s Alex, sweaty with matted hair that sticks to his forehead. You nearly go limp from the shock and stress as he looks down at you with pleading eyes, “don’t shy away from me, now. You weren’t like this earlier.”

“I don’t, I don’t understand! W-What’s going on, ‘lex?”

You murmur his nickname desperately, watching as he gnaws on his plush bottom lip. His lip trembles as he peers at you, his hands loosening their grip on your wrists. You wiggle a hand free and wrap it around his shoulders, your hand splaying flat against his back and holding him protectively, “but why?”

“I needed you,” he croaks. “I needed you to realize you want me.”

He starts nosing at your neck, lips planting gentle kisses on the smooth expanse of your throat. A weak whine rises and dies from your lips.

“Alex, I–wait, this is!I–”

“What you’ve been craving, right? What you’ve been needing.”

He sucks on your pulse point, and you arch lewdly into his all-encompassing black robes. He’s sticky with spit as he collides the two of you together into a heady kiss.

It’s all you’ve been wanting, but it’s all the wrong circumstances. He presses with such need into you, such desperation; your mouth slips open wider to tangle with his syrupy tongue.

“That’s it,” he huffs and lightly rocks his bulge against your sweatpants.

He’s so hard, you can feel him shudder as he presses forward again to lightly hump against you.

“Wanted to just have you all to myself.”

He joins you once again to heavily make out, both of you growing more and more eager by the second. You bury yourself within him, his hand groping your breast with a groan of satisfaction.

“You’ve kept me waiting,” Alex tugs your earlobe with his teeth. “Every time we cuddled, hugged… I just wanted to fuck you to tears.”

It makes such a hot moan escape, your toes curling as you writhe beneath him.

“Fuck, really?”

“Yes, I needed you more than I could stand!”

Alex’s hands are eager as they skim your stomach to reveal more of your glowing skin. He bites his lip in anticipation, observing as the shirt reveals your perky tits; he can’t help but latch his mouth to your budding nipple and suck.

“Oh, fuuck. Alex, shit.”

“Feels good, right? Mmm, love how these feel.”

He grins before diving in and peppering love bites and suckles along your sensitive skin. Buff arms wrap around your middle and pull you closer, teeth grazing the underside of your tit; he laves a dark mark and pulls away with a wide smirk.

You realize Alex’s clothing is still on. You’re tugging his robes up the minute your eyes are able to focus–he was a god with his tongue, and you needed it more than just toying with your boobs.

“You need to take this, ngh, off.”

“Yeah, you want it off?”

“Don’t tease me, ‘lex. I wanna see you. Not Ghostface.

It gives Alex pause, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he pulls back to look at you.

“... You really mean it?”

“Yes,” you purr. “I really do.”

Alex quickly tugs off his draping outfit, sighing as his bare, caramel chest is given its glory. Suddenly, you see him for who he is. A man, a man you’re soaking your panties for. You need him like a fish needs water.

The two of you meld together like it’s all you’ve ever known. In a way, Alex is all you’ve ever known.

Your hands greedily feel him up, squishing his pecks and running your thumb over his hardening nipples. His hips pop once with a meek whimper escaping him, “I-I should be doing this to you.”

“But you’re not,” you taunt and latch your mouth to his chest and suck.

A keening whimper escapes Alex as his fingers tangle into your tresses, pushing his chest further into your tongue with a whine.

The two of you meet in a sloppy kiss, Alex pushing you onto your back as he leaves love bites down your neck. He leaves more on the other side of your breast, sucking soft, supple skin to leave bruises of remembrance.

Alex pauses, his eyes flickered to yours and a steamy gaze, “can I… Can I eat you out?”

It doesn’t feel weird, even if he’s your best friend. Your knees fall apart wider as you give a shy nod, “y-yeah. Be gentle—I’m sensitive.”

He hums and levels with your pussy. Alex’s right hand comes to entangle with yours as his breath fans over your soaked panties. You both stare in a terse, heated moment before he’s licking with the flat of his tongue.

“Ooh! Shit…!”

Alex makes it sloppy while teasing you over soaked cotton. His smirk is evident when you cry out and practically crush his hand as he laves over your swollen clit.

“You taste like candy,” he pulls your panties to the side with a groan. “And you’re so wet.”

“You’re embarrassing me—aah! Ohmygod, ‘lex!”

He dives in like a man starved, and in a way he is. Alex slurps messily at your folds, tongue swirling your creamy hole before sucking your clit into his hot, wet mouth.

Your fingers grip and tug ferociously as you grind your cunt against his face. Alex’s eyes slip closed as he loses himself in you, his adept tongue working you open.

It burns hot and white as your stomach clenches. You ride his face, and he lets you, “‘lex!! ‘M gonna cum!”

There’s a wet, inaudible groan, and Alex is pressing his tongue at your entrance and tongue-fucking you. The hot strand of pressure snaps, and you cum with a needy cry.

“Alex,” you sob out, knees squeezing his head as he helps you through your orgasm. “C-Can’t! Too much, please!—”

He pulls away with a glistening mouth and jaw. He’s so hard in just his boxers, and you can taste yourself as you bring him in for a messy kiss.

“I can’t believe I just,” you cut him off with another desperate peck, “mmf—just ate you out.”

“Don’t brag about it,” you murmur against his lips before he settles back on his haunches.

Alex starts to claim he’s not “bragging,” but you hone in on the reveal of his thick, bobbing cock after freeing it from his boxers. The fat tip smears pre-cum on his navel and your mouth waters. God, you needed him.

He fishes out a condom from his black robes, and you draw close to help roll it on. He’s hot to the touch and shivers at how your hand barely wraps around him, “thank you.”

Your hand is still on his dick as you smile up at him. Alex gives you a tender grin before motioning you to lie back. He uncoils like a snake, stretching across you to lay between your legs. His dick just barely brushes your throbbing clit, and you jump at the contact. Alex swallows and seems nervous as he grips his base.

“I-I love you,” he says. “I love you.”

The world seems to stop for a moment. You stare into the galaxy of brown amber held in his eyes.

You can hardly breathe, and you swear your heart’s crawling up your throat and about to beat past your lips. Alex’s eyes search yours for something, anything. You hadn’t realized how silent you’ve been, “I love you, too.”

Alex laughs and scoots a little closer, his cock head just barely pressing against your fluttering hole.

“God, you really made me nervous there.”

“You’re about to be inside me! I wasn’t ready for a confession…”

Alex kisses your pout away and sinks into you with a hefty groan, “holy shit.”

You’re scratching his back from the deliciously sinful way he stretches you out. With the legs looped around his hips, he starts to shallowly thrust. His dick plunge is deep and drags heavy amidst your spasming gummy walls.

“Fuck me, oh, yes!”

“Ngh,” he grunts, and his hips are hitting yours with punishing claps.

Alex makes you submit, laying there in a writhing heap as you take him in your guts. His hips angle upwards, and he’s battering your g-spot while uttering sweet nothings into your ear, “you’re such a good girl. Ah, ah, fuck; c-can’t believe I’m fucking your pretty pussy.”

Your lips are swollen red and parted as Alex fills you entirely over and over and over! You cling to him in a pathetic embrace, barely able to keep your eyes open while staccato moans fill Alex’s ear.

“Alex, I-I can’t for m-much—ooh!! Ohgod, gonna cum…!”

In between your sweaty, grinding bodies, Alex’s sneaky hand slinks down to messily rub your clit, “you’re fucking perfect.”

His voice shakes with a compliment, and his thumb presses his hard circles on your sensitive nub. It’s enough to break you down in a mix of cries and sobs as you cum all over him, “oh fuu-huh-ck!”

Alex inhales sharply, chasing his own high as your walls squeeze him during your orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck. Baby, I—!!”

He lets out a whimpering squeak before burying deep and emptying his balls inside the condom. He thrusts once, twice, before collapsing down onto you with panting breaths on his lips.

You both are exhausted. Your bare foot presses against the cool plastic of his mask, and you blurt your question before you can even think.

“Did you really kill all those people?”

He doesn’t look at you, merely planting kiss after kiss on your exposed skin, “I did it all for you.”

There’s no guilt or apprehension this time. Only the way your heart sings with love.

-

“It’s hard to say whether Ghostface had help this time,” the newscaster reports. “But, it’s an ongoing reminder to lock your doors and report any suspicious activity…”

The screen goes black as Alex laughs and cuts the TV off. Your eyes trace his features, the delicate curve of his nose, and the slope of his lips; he is stunning. Neither of you speak of the mutual dried flecks of blood on each other’s cheeks.

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

Sirius had a strong knot on his throat right now.

He had to be a supportive friend for Remus. He had promised himself that. That no one would break them apart again.

Now that Remus had come out as gay, Sirius didn't mind, he was being very supportive.

What he didn't expect was to hear Remus talking about boys. Not a lot of boys. Just generally who he found fit at Hogwarts. And then worse, the bloke he had a crush on for years.

His name was Grant Chapman. Funny name, wasn't it?

Apparently he was older, wiser, with more experience. Remus had many fun stories about him that seemed out of an action movie. And he was the friend. The best friend that Remus had when he needed the most. The one that had taught him a lot of things like drinking, and smoking and kissing. The one who had been supportive through his transition. The one who had been there when his mother died.

It was not that Sirius thought Remus hadn't had crushes before. Well, it was kind of weird because Sirius didn't think about that aspect of Remus's life at all.

Now that Remus was openly gay with everyone and was telling Sirius about Grant, Sirius wanted to tore something apart. He didn't know why. He should be happy for his friend, right?

Maybe because he thought there had been someone else there for Remus when Sirius should have been.

"So, yeah" Remus chuckled as he stared at his cigarrette "I was an idiot who had a silly crush when Grant had a new boy each week"

Grant was also very gay which was worse since Remus had more possibilities to be with him.

Sirius tried to disguise his anger? What was this anyway? He just nodded and continued smoking.

"Although Grant was one of those crushes that are fleeting" Remus added as he blinked.

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked curiously.

"One of those crushes when you idiolize the other person because they are unreachable. But can be over fast as well" Remus explained "It is definitely not like being in love"

Sirius found himself smiling like a silly schoolgirl.

"So, you don't love Grant"

Remus's eyes focused on Sirius.

"Oh, I love him" Remus said, making Sirius freeze for a bit "But like you love James..." Sirius let out a soft breath "My heart doesn't belong to him"

Sirius hadn't snogged James, though.

Sirius snorted "You're a sappy romantic, Moons"

Remus smiled "What?"

"My heart doesn't belong to him?" Sirius asked clearly mocking.

Remus rolled his eyes "You think it is funny because you haven't fallen in love"

Sirius raised an eyebrow "Oh, so you have?" he asked, and his heart started beating fast for a reason "With Grant?"

God! Why did he sound so pissed?

Remus simply shook his head. He mumbled something that sounded like "With someone else" but Sirius wasn't sure.

"What?"

Sirius wasn't sure for the poor light. But he could have sworn Remus was blushing.

"I said I haven't" Remus answered with a soft giggle in his voice "I just read many romantic books"

Remus kept smoking and silence while Sirius raised an eyebrow. He decided to look at the beautiful stars tonight. Next to the moon, of course.

"So, that's how you spent your summer?" Sirius commented, trying to sound indifferent "With your friend Grant?" he smirked "Is that why you ignored me?"

Remus looked up in alert.

"I didn't ignore you"

"You ghosted me all summer, Moony" Why did it sound like a claim?

"You ghosted me as well, Pads" Remus shrugged.

"Just because you ghosted me first!" Sirius said, trying to tease. "All to be with your bff"

Remus laughed, making Sirius feel a nice sensation inside of him "My bff? Jealous much?"

Sirius shrugged, being dramatic. Maybe he was...

Remus's smile disappeared.

"I didn't know you wanted to talk to me"

Sirius frowned "Why not?"

"Because of what happened before leaving Hogwarts..." Remus said as he swallowed nervously. He wasn't looking at Sirius. Only down.

Sirius knew too well what Remus was talking about. That first awkward kiss. Sirius had that image tattooed in his mind like a mantra. He hadn't stopped thinking about it. It was bloody torturing him. And he didn't know why.

Maybe it was because of what he had found this summer. How much he had been remembering when he was ten years old and Remus was his favorite person when he was Rosie. And how guilty he felt for the family he had. How much it hurt to lose Remus before.

"What are you talking about?"

However, it was better to play dumb. Because talking about it was Sirius's worse fear. Facing his confusing feelings, was his worse fear.

Remus looked disappointed.

"You don't remember?"

Sirius acted confused. "No, about what?"

Remus was clearly blinking away his anger.

"Before climbing the train... Our dorm... We were packing..."

Sirius remembered every single detail of that day. However he shook his head, acting clueless.

"Seriously? Are you that dumb?"

Sirius swallowed his tears "Yeah, siriusly" he joked like an idiot.

Remus took a deep breath and looked away.

"Forget it, Sirius"

Remus was clearly pissed and Sirius felt like a fool. He was such a coward.

People said he was cool, reckless and brave. But in reality he was a scared little boy that couldn't admit what he felt.

A stupid boy that couldn't admit he wanted to kiss Remus again. So badly.

"Faggot! A cissy boy just like your Uncle" a voice that sounded like his father screamed inside his head.

"Fuck it, I don't care!" he answered to that voice.

Sirius's heart was beating so fast, it should be dangerous. He felt a shot of adrenaline rushing through him.

"You mean this?"

As soon as Sirius finished saying that, he grabbed Remus's neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

And when their lips touched, Sirius felt fireworks inside his tummy and goosebumps all over his skin. Especially when Remus kissed him back.

It was ten times better than their first kiss when Sirius panicked. Sirius knew now how much he wanted this as long as he didn't think about what it made him. But it was clear as water how much he cared for Remus. How much he loved him. Even if he didn't know in what way.

More, more, more and more of this. His brain was yelling. How could we live without this?

Remus seemed to be thinking the same. Because he kept going. He kept opening his lips for Sirius. He let Sirius ran his fingers through his hair.

They only stopped when they were out of breath.

"Is that...What you... Meant?"

Sirius could feel his cheeks on fire and he was clearly catching his breath. It would have been awfully embarrassed if Remus wouldn't have been the same.

And how adorable did he look. Damn.

"Yeah" Remus nodded, still mesmerized. He let out a soft giggle "But that was so much better than the last one"

Sirius couldn't avoid smiling embarrassed.

"So, you remember"

Sirius snorted "Of course I remember, Moony"

"You dumbass"

Sirius laughed.

Remus seemed so happy, he touched Sirius's hair, which sent shivers down his spine.

"Yeah" he chuckled "But it is not a big deal, ok?"

Remus stop smiling "What?"

"Don't get hooked, Moony" Sirius said nervously "It was just like with Grant this summer. Just an innocent snog... To break the ice" he snorted at the end although he was dying inside.

He was so embarrassed with Remus and himself that he wished he could go back in time and never give in with his desires.

Remus looked disappointed, sad or angry. Sirius didn't know.

"So, you didn't want to kiss me?"

"Of course I did!" Sirius exclaimed immediately only because Remus looked like a lost puppy "I liked kissing you" he smiled slighty and touched Remus's cheek "But I am not looking for a relationship or anything, you know? And I don't want to ruin our friendship or hurt you"

Remus frowned, trying to consider what Sirius was saying. Sirius was kind of panicking thinking he just fucked everything up between them.

"So, you want to continue snogging me?"

Sirius didn't know what was the correct answer here.

"Just as friends?"

Sirius didn't know how much he needed Remus's lips until he tasted them for the first time months ago. But it was not only about that. It was about Remus and what they had. The beautiful relationship they had rebuilt. The jokes, the dynamic, the closeness, the peace Sirius felt around his friend.

"Isn't it what you used to do with Grant?" Sirius asked carefully.

Remus could have told him to fuck off. But he didn't. Instead, he said:

"Yeah, I guess. Although I didn't know you were into blokes"

"I'm not!" Sirius snapped then he sighed "I mean I like you. I like kissing you" he shrugged "What's the big deal?"

Remus leaned in and Sirius thought he was going to kiss him again. Like an idiot he expected it with bloody desire.

"I don't want to ruin our friendship either"

"We won't" Sirius swallowed as he stared at Remus's lips "I promise"

When Remus kissed him this time, Sirius melted immediately into it. It felt amazing. He hadn't liked to kiss someone this much. He mostly did it with girls because he thought he was supposed to. Not because he needed their lips like air. Not because he wanted to merge into one with them by kissing them forever.

What was Remus doing to him?

After what felt like ages of intense snogging because none of them wanted to stop, they had to eventually catch some air.

Eventhough Sirius loved it when Remus placed his forehead apong his, it felt like it was getting out of hand.

"You could love him, couldn't you?" a voice said inside his mind. "What if you already do? Remember how you felt on the top of the world when you were ten and he was around? Remember when you felt like dying when he left?"

"Oh, do you miss your little girlfriend, Sirius?" his mother used to ask with a mocking tone when she caught Sirius crying "Well, it seems she has forgotten about you"

"NO! THAT'S NOT TRUE! ROSIE IS MY BEST FRIEND!"

"More girls would come, Sirius" his father would say, he didn't believe his son was so weak to cry for someone "Prettier girls... My son doesn't cry like a cissy for a silly girl"

What a pair of arseholes his parents were.

Sirius broke apart in alert.

"So, do I kiss better than you friend Grant?" he said to break the ice.

It worked because it made Remus laugh.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night" Remus said and Sirius gasped.

Then Remus added "Yeah you do"

Sirius's heart jumped inside his chest. They smiled at each other with blushy cheeks they were so pathetic.

"Soooo....." Remus snorted.

Sirius chuckled.

"I do have to remind you" Remus smirked "That we are students and we have to come back because it is getting late and we have class tomorrow"

Sirius groaned, dropping his head back. Remus giggled.

"Alright!" Sirius shrugged "Let's go"

Remus didn't move though. He kept staring at Sirius in a way that it was out of this world. In that instant, Sirius felt perfect and flawless under Remus's eyes.

"Or maybe..." Remus took a step closer "It wouldn't hurt to snog for a bit longer... Let's say five more minutes?"

Sirius grinned so hard that his cheeks hurt.

He grabbed Remus's sweater and pulled him closer.

"That sounds great"

"Yeah?" Remus asked staring at Sirius's lips.

"Shut up, Moony, and bloody kiss me"

Sirius kissed Remus's giggle and in an instant, they got lost into each other's lips and melted into each other's arms.

Maybe Sirius was fucked.

[hazbinhotelxreader]

Hiiii, how's it going??? A few days ago this idea crossed my mind. A reader who is afraid of loud noises (phonophobia) x Alastor. Definitely something comfort. I was curious how he would react. Feel free to ignore this if you are not interested, I know you have tons of requests. ♥️🖤

Yep! I apologize for the long wait! I’ve been so busy! (I am VERY rusty. I havnt wrote since like July 😭)

Alastor x sinner reader with Phonophibia (platonic)

“Too Loud”

It was late afternoon at the hotel and you were sitting at the small bar in the hotel, drinking some of the alcohol left out, trying to drown out the noise of the others. It was..Choatic. Nifty was being nifty, Angel was being loud as usual, Charlie seemed more loud and happier than usual, Husk was getting pissed like usual, pentious was boasting just as loud, and Vaggie was getting ticked off by Angel and Alastor….Probably the only calm one right now

You hated it. You left your home to escape the loud chaotic and overwhelming mess and came to the hotel thinking you’d be safe. Turns out they can be just as crazy. From Charlie always getting into your personal space (which you don’t have the heart to tell her no), to Pentious getting distristful and defensive when you get too close to him or his machines. You just wanted peace. Peace was always on your mind..But then again when did you ever get it? Never. Its hell, nothings peaceful

You could have sworn your head was beating by the chatter, your heart rate increasing, it felt like it would jump out of your chest. It was too much, too loud, too noisy, too much chaos. You could here the light ringing in your ears, the small foggyness in your sight..

While you were in your own little episode, you weren’t aware of the figure approaching you. “Now whats with the frown dear? Don’t you think a smile will make you look more approachable~?”. A familiar radio voice rung out.

You jumped a little in surprise at his usual confident tone and turn to look at him, caught by surprise at his sudden appearance as you calmed down. “Hey Alastor..” You say a little tired, not going unnoticed by the radia demon.

“What’s seems to be the issue dear?”.He asked, looking over at you. He was still pretty intimidating for you, this was the radio demon after all…

“Nothing its just….loud in here” You say and look down at the almost empty glass bottle.

“Loud you say? Well you certiantly arent wrong my dear! At the Hazbin Hotel theres never a sleeping moment!’ He said with confidence as he leaned against the counter,holding his radio staff (right??) in his hands with his usual smile.

“That’s what im worried about…” You say with a tired expression and look back down.

Alasotor looked over at you, keeping his smile but a small ounce of concern, why was he concerned? He’s not use to this, he shouldn’t be concerned for another lowly sinner should he? Maybe its the fact that your one of the few demons that annoy him, maybe its the fact you aren’t loud or sexual, maybe its the fact you respect his personal space. Whatever it was, he liked you, well at least he disliked you less than the others.

“Well then my dear, don’t be afraid to come knocking on my door if it’s too much, my room is the furthest from everyone and I sure would like the company when I’m eating” He reassured with a smile.

You smile back, even if your a little suspicious of why he’s doing this, but having some peace and quiet for the firstime in…how long now? It doesn’t matter right now. “Thanks Alastor…you don’t know how much I appreciate that”. You weren’t sure how this would go…But anything was better than staying in a noisy hotel.

(Sorry I’m so rusty 😭😭😭)

[localwebslingers]

More than once, not everyone in the pack had been able together for the full moon but they all tried to. It was easiest for the wolves among them to do so, usually cramming into Aunt May's home and doing the best with the space they had, but sometimes the others had other things they had to take care of instead. Most of the time, all or most of them were able to meet, and if they were really lucky they could all get out into the forest for the peek of the cycle. Where they were far away from the city limits and could shift, run, and even hunt through the night. A chance to enjoy the moon's glow the way it should be, open and without fear.

Peter wasn't bothered with being away from them, and he looked back to Harry and offered a small lick to his arm to try and reassure him of that. There would always be the next cycle, and truthfully he would rather be there, making sure that Harry was recovering and had some extra help if needed. It was important, the pack would understand.

Still, the offer of the balcony made his ears and tail perk up slightly as another distant, muffled howl reached him from somewhere on the other side of the glass. Distant, unfamiliar, not a howl he knew but the next in the batch of voices ringing out to the moon. Offerings of howls, of their songs, and what she gave them. Peter didn't always have the chance to stretch his legs and run the way he wanted on these nights, but not being able to at least enjoy the night air and howl felt wrong. Deeply wrong, even if he'd been hesitant on if it would be alright or not. Less because of where he was and more because he had no idea if it would only add to any remaining nerves that Harry had.

He looked over to the balcony doors and back at Harry, glancing up to the tea that he was aware he'd been asked about but the split seemed fine to him. After a moment he nudged at his friend's arm and looked pointedly at the tea before back at him. Hoping the message was at least somewhat clear. The night was still young, Peter could wait until he drinks as ready. Besides, he wanted to bring Harry outside with him to hear what it was like on nights like this. When the sound wasn't for a threat or a warning, but something else.

|| @inhcritance ||

It did not feel ideal, to have Peter sit next to him on the floor, but the moment he considered how to remedy that he realized that the only chair of sorts where Peter might fit comfortably was the armchair, and all in all...

"I'd offer to move the armchair here for you." He admitted. "If trying to move it wouldn't risk invoking Faustus' wrath."

And he had the common sense to know he was injured and he needed to recover. Especially when he knew the worst of it was still not yet closed, and that he'd need to re-bandage it after eating: it didn't hurt that badly, but he knew that clean bandages and rest were the best option possible, once he could stop moving for a little while.

It didn't change the way he offered Peter the smallest rueful smile at the gentle poke to his side.

"I know, I know. But I don't dare use any more of the vial I used, or I might need to sleep for another whole day afterwards." He admitted. "But I'll be okay, I promise."

Exhausted, still in a faint disbelief of the situation, but with Faustus eating comfortably and the smell of food heating up, he was starting to be comfortable in the kind of way that safety brought, even if he still found himself realizing that yes, that was a werewolf, and yes, that was Peter, and it felt weird to be this comfortable around him like this.

He still went to grab the herbs Peter had brought, and carefully started portioning a dose, where Peter could see. Because if he'd said there was for several teas...

"Would this be too much, too little?" He asked Peter, before of course realizing that he'd have some issues replying. "Uh, give a little woof it this is too much?" He added, only then noticing Peter's glance... and the quiet whine, and the moon rising up in the sky. Would he hear howling if he opened the windows, he wondered?

"I'm sorry you're staying here." He admitted, in the end. "Instead of with your pack."

He couldn't offer much in the way of entertainment, injured as he was, but he glanced at the balcony nevertheless.

"I know it's not much, but it you want the fresh air, or to howl, I'm happy to open the balcony for you." He offered.

It was not as large as the balcony at his father's place, but it was large enough to allow for several chairs, so a werewolf would fit fine.

@localwebslingers

[cptjimmy]

Jon sat in bed, staring at the wall and swirling the bottle of whiskey in his hand

His room felt far too quiet for his liking so he pushed himself up, barely nothing to put his coveralls back on before leaving

It wasn’t too late yet, not everyone should be asleep yet right? He walked down the halls, not really thinking about much when he stopped in front of Jimmy’s door

He hesitated before knocking, running a hand through his hair til the door had opened

“.. Drinks?” He held up the bottle

-📗 @theman-withthe-dustpan

Jimmy wasn't really busy doing much in his bunk. He was lying down, reading a book with some music on low. He can't stand sitting in silence, so the music helps.

He hears a knock on the door and glances towards it, deciding whether or not he wanted to get up and see who was at the door.

Sure, the doors don't have locks on them, but if you're creative enough, you can make it so they don't open automatically.

With a huff, he got up and answered the door. He still had his coveralls on just with the top wrapped around his waist, the plan white long sleeve shirt being able to be seen in its entirety.

He's surprised to see Jon standing in front of him, surprised but not unhappy, and he smiles at the mention of drinks.

"Yeah... yeah, drinks sound good. Come on in."

Jimmy went back to his bunk to sit, book abandoned on his pillow, music still playing in the background. There wasn't a lot of space, but enough to give it an almost safe and cozy feeling. It's not like they spend much time in their quarters to begin with.

He pats the space next to him for Jon to sit down.

"Don't got any cups, unfortunately." he chuckles, though he seems nervous almost.

"Hope you don't mind swapping spit."

Jimmy reaches for the bottle as Jon takes his place beside him. He takes one long pull from the bottle, shivers for a moment before making a content noise.

"Yeah, that hits the spot!"

He hands the bottle back to Jon.

"So, what brought you to my doorstep?"

[theoutcastrogue]

I'll agree with everyone that Arcane season 2 needed a lot more time for all those character arcs and storylines. A few more episodes, maybe a whole other season.

But I only arrived at this conclusion in Act II, when certain things (reunions, conflicts internal and external) stopped making much sense. Until then, I honestly liked the economical storytelling. I'm cool with time skips, I don't need everything spelled out, and letting the audience fill in the gaps can be a good thing. I also truly loved how much plot (and not just aesthetics) they managed to fit in the music intros, these were great.

That said, it's not a film you watch in the theatre, it's on netflix (and torrents and such), you can rewatch stuff. And I did rewatch stuff, and I had missed several details the first time. Is that a a flaw? I don't know, I think it rewards revisiting it. The animation is SO GOOD, and it doesn't just look gorgeous, it conveys so much.

what a frame

I saw many complaints about Vi's pit fighter phase specifically, that it needed more space, and not just a music video. Hard disagree. The music video was brilliant, it told a whole story with a beginning, a middle and an end, with ascension (well. of a sort.) and downfall, with Vi's emotional state made clear at every step, and it showed very well the huge difference of what it's like to crawl back home wasted and all fucked up WITH someone to pick you up, and WITHOUT. If you've ever been in the general vicinity of a Drinking Problem, you know what I mean. Exaggerated violence notwithstanding, it was all incredibly realistic. In a League of Legends adaptation!

Could they stretch it to like half an episode and make it good? Sure! But there was no narrative necessity, imo, those 2 minutes without dialogue said it all, and that's a huge compliment.

And maybe if they hadn't released the WHOLE thing in advance for promotion, there would be less complaints. Seriously, that official clip was a terrible idea: what should have been a a teaser turned out to be a spoiler. Or maybe the audience yearned for more scenes with Vi beating the shit out of people and getting wrecked in turn, which hey, can't blame them. But within the narrative of the series, it worked amazingly.

[chimerical-daydreams]

How does the king stay hydrated when they cry so much?! I'm genuinely concerned for his health at a certain point!

Bonnie the hydration hero saves the day once again!

[serpentface]

This was going to be a panel of a little comic but I got too invested in drawing minute background details so, here.