#i was like. the bowtie one looks like my brother

[luciferanalyzestar]

Hazbin hotel critcal while i'm happy to have space to express my distaste and grievance but can we please do not be ableist? Not just on psyhical disability but also mental disability like aspd. Because the way people describe character using word as delusional narcisstic psychotic just annoyed me. Then with lucifer look whether people can see him as autistic or neurodivergent or not that would have different respond but why do some people really anti with lucifer being autistic because i remember quite well someone said they don't believe lucifer is autistic because they have brother who is autistic. Another person chime in claiming lucifer can't be depressed because he caused depression mind you i believe this is the same person who accuse lucifer being a groomer!

Moving on with Charlie look i get it she is badly written but i swear people treat her as some kinda monster proceed to demonizer her (i know this is a very weird choice of word) I remember reading one person post about how much they hate charlie they show their blood lust and again this person call charlie narcisstic.

Jazz and Ghost video about charlie while she is right but with the way she describe it kinda ableist to me with how good people have empathy and sympathy, while bad people can't feel empathy and sympathy

Ableist language is something we all have to unlearn. I used to say the word 'narcissistic' when I met that someone was full of themselves before learning about narcissistic personality disorder. I do not describe characters as using terms like 'narcissistic' or 'psychotic' because those are not personality traits.

Lucifer is autistic and no one can tell me otherwise. I talked about it in my old Lucifer analysis. Even if you dislike his character saying "I have a brother who is autistic, and he does not act like Lucifer" is not a valid opinion because autism is spectrum, and I cannot believe we still have to say this is current year. I clocked Lucifer as neurodivergent the minute he appeared. Like come on the man is surrounded by his hyper fixation and it is clearly a source of comfort. The photo ID on Charlie's photo is literally a rubber duckie wearing his top hat and bowtie, not a photo of him.

Yeah, I already talked about the person who said Lucifer does not have depression. Lucifer's hyper fixation in rubber ducks is a sign of his depression it goes into hoarder territory; he forgets things easily (like Charlie's hotel and names), fears rejection, and wants to connect with others (like Charlie) but it is difficult for him.

Charlie is also autistic like her father. I talked about this already. The hotel is her hyper fixation, and she sucks as reading the room and people. Her mini pitch of the hotel to Adam was very neurodivergent thing to do. She is just more sociable than Lucifer, again autism is a spectrum. I know people call her childish for doodles which is fine. She comes off as naive to me in this moment to me.

Calling Charlie 'narcissistic' is wild! There are moments where she makes things about the hotel and herself (like in episode four), but I do not think she is going it with malicious. I like Charlie but her role in the story is odd because we know nothing about her or how her home life was or how she got her sense of morality. Fans speculate that Charlie lived a very sheltered life, and I believe this too.

Jazz and Ghost video about charlie while she is right but with the way she describe it kinda ableist to me with how good people have empathy and sympathy, while bad people can't feel empathy and sympathy

I saw the thumbnail of that video and I was like 'Nah, I am not watching that" due to Star Butterfly being in the thumbnail. Someone did point out how Star is not really an inspiring character. Maybe I will watch the video when I have the energy so I can be locked in. I tend to draw and get distracted when watching long videos.

I do think the writers want to go the high empathy route for Charlie or she is like an empath, but it just fails like in episode four. I like the idea of Charlie having high empathy because neurodivergent people are always portrayed as being the opposite.

I do agree with this comment I saw though.

Saying good people have empathy and sympathy, while bad people can't feel empathy and sympathy is laughable. This is viewpoint that goes way better Hazbin. What makes someone a 'good' or 'bad' person depends on person to person. We all know actions that are that immoral, and disgusting is bad (or downright evil) but there are people who view anyone that does petty crimes as 'bad' like shoplifting and people who rich are 'good' regardless of what they say and do.

[florida3exclamationpoints]

My brother looks like an Americanized Matt Smith :)

[creepyclothdoll]

The Devil's Wheel

The Devil’s Wheel

“If you say yes,” said the Devil, “a single man, somewhere in the world, will be killed on the spot. But three million dollars is nothing to sneeze at, missus.”

“What’s the catch?” You squint at him suspiciously over the red-and-black striped carnival booth. You’re smarter than he thinks you are– a devil deal always has a catch, and you’re determined to catch him before he catches you. 

“Well, the catch is that you’ll know you did it. And I’ll know, too. And the big man upstairs’ll know, I ‘spose. But what’s the chariot of salvation without a little sin to grease the wheels? You can repent from your mansion balcony, looking out at your waterfront views, sipping a bellini in your eighties. But hey, it’s up to you– take my deal or leave it.”

The Devil lights a cigar without a match, taking an inhale, and blowing out a cloud of deep, sweet-smelling tobacco laced faintly with something that reminds you of rotten eggs. If he does have horns, they’re hidden under his lemon yellow carnival barker hat. He wears a clean pinstripe suit and a red bowtie. No cloven hooves, no big pointy fork, but you know he’s the Devil without having to be told. Though he did introduce himself.

He’s been perfectly polite. 

You know you need the money. He knows it too, or he wouldn’t have brought you here, to this strange dark room, whisking you away from your new house in the suburbs as fast as a wish. Now you’re in some sort of warehouse, where all the windows seem to be blacked out– or, maybe, they simply look out into pitch darkness, though it is the middle of the day. A single white spotlight shines down on the two of you. 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” you say. “I bet the man is someone I know, right? My husband?”

“Could be,” the Devil says with a pointed grin. “That’s for the wheel to decide.”

He steps back and raises his black-gloved hand as the tarp flies off of the large veiled object behind him. The light of the carnival wheel nearly blinds you. Blinking lights line the sides. Jingling music blares over speakers you can’t see. The flickering sign above it reads:

THE DEVIL’S WHEEL

“Step right up and claim your fortune,” the Devil barks. “Spin the wheel and pay the price! Or leave now, and a man keeps his life.”

You examine the wheel. 

The gambling addict

The doting boyfriend

The escaped convict

The dog dad

The secretive sadist

“These are all the possible men I can kill?” You ask, thumbing the side of the wheel. It rolls smoothly in your hand. Then you quickly stop, realizing that this might constitute a spin under the Devil’s rules. He flashes a smile at you, watching you halt its motion. 

“Addicts, convicts, murderers– plenty of terrible options for you to land on, missus!”

“Serial wife murderer?”

“Now who would miss a fellow like that? I can guarantee that the whole world would be better off without him in it, and that’s a fact.”

The hard worker

The compulsive liar

The animal torturer

The widower

The desperate businessman

The failed musician

The beloved son

“My husband is on here too,” you say. 

“Your husband Dave, yes. The wheel has to be fair, otherwise there’s simply no stakes.”

“I know what’s gonna happen,” you say, crossing your arms. “This wheel is rigged. I’m gonna spin it around, and it’ll go through all the killers and stuff, and then it’s gonna land on my husband no matter what.”

“Why, I would never disgrace the wheel that way,” the Devil says, wounded. “I swear on my own mother’s grave– may she never escape it. In fact, take one free spin, just to test it out! This one’s on me, no death, no dollars.”

You cautiously reach up to the top of the wheel and feel its heaviness in your hand. The weight of hundreds of lives. But also, millions of dollars. You pull the wheel down and let it go.

Clackity-clackity-clackity-clackity

Round and round it goes. 

The college graduate

The hockey fan

The Eagle Scout

The cold older brother

The charming younger brother

The two-faced middle child

The perfectionist

The slob 

Your husband Dave

Clackity-clackity-clackity.

Finally, the wheel lands on a name. A title, really.

The photographer

“Hmm, tough, missus, but that’s the way of the wheel. But hey, look! Your husband is allllll the way over here,” he points with his cane to the very bottom of the wheel, all the way on the other side from where the arrow landed. “As you can see, it’s not rigged. The wheel truly is random.”

“So… there really isn’t another catch?” You ask. 

“Isn’t it enough for you to end a man’s life? You need a steeper price? If you’re really such a glutton for punishment, I’ll gladly re-negotiate the terms.”

“No, no… wait.” You examine the wheel, glancing between it and the Devil.

You really could use that three million dollars. Newly married, new house, you and your husband’s combined debt– those student loans really follow you around. He’s quite a bit older than you, and even he hasn’t paid them off yet, to the point where the whole time you were dating you watched him stress out about money. You had to have a small, budget wedding, and a small, budget honeymoon. Three million dollars could be big for the two of you. You could re-do your honeymoon and go somewhere nice, like Hawaii, instead of just taking two weeks in Atlantic City. You deserve it. 

Even so, do you really want to kill an innocent photographer? Or an innocent seasonal allergy sufferer? Or an innocent blogger? Just because you don’t know or love these people doesn’t mean that someone doesn’t. 

The cancer survivor

The bereaved

The applicant

Some of these were so vague. They could be anyone, honestly. Your neighbors, your father, your friends…

The newlywed

The ex-gifted kid

The uncle

The Badgers fan

“My husband is a Badgers fan,” you say.

“How lovely,” the Devil says. 

Then it hits you.

Of course.

The weightlifter.

The careful driver.

The manager.

The claustrophobe.

Your husband Dave lifts weights at the gym twice a month. You wouldn’t call him a pro, but he does it. He also drives like he’s got a bowl of hot soup in his lap all the time, because he’s afraid of being pulled over. He just got promoted to management at his company, and he takes the stairs to his seventh-story office because he hates how small and cramped the elevator is.

“I get your game,” you announce. “You thought you could get me, but I figured you out, jackass!” “Oh really? What is my game, pray tell?” The Devil responds, leaning against his cane.

“All these different titles– they’re all just different ways to describe the same guy. My husband isn’t one notch on the wheel, he’s every notch. No matter what I land on, Dave dies. I’m wise to your tricks!” 

The Devil cackles. 

“You’re a clever one, that’s for sure. I thought you’d never figure it out.”

“Thanks but no thanks, man,” you say with a triumphant smirk. “I’m no rube. No deal. Take me back home.”

“As you wish, missus,” the Devil says. He snaps his fingers, and you’re gone, back to your brand-new house with your new husband. “Don’t say I never tried to help anyone.”

[alastorss]

brother i still have no idea how tumblr works and this is my first request and it might not even be in the right place but—

why does NO ONE talk about the fact that “Allie” would be such a silly nickname for Alastor? i would love to see some headcanons/a lil story about how he would react to the reader calling him that. maybe completely detests it at first but secretly likes it?

a/n: hello lovely, you've come to the right place 🫶 yes yes yes!!! i'm obsessed with this idea <3 i'm adding to this: he would think you're mad at him when you finally call him normally again ^ ^

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

"What did you say?"

"Huh?" You hum, attention devoted to fixing Alastor's bowtie.

"That thing you just said. Repeat it."

You finally blink at him, using your palms to smooth out the front of his jacket before stepping out of his bubble. "I said your tie was undone."

"No, dear, before that."

The Radio Demon can feel his eye twitching in irritation. You look at him again dumbly, trying to retrace your steps.

"Oh!" You flash him a little smile and he thinks his brain is going to explode. "Allie?"

He just gawks at you, surprised by the sheer audacity you have. And it doesn't help that he's so fond of you that he doesn't even want to strike you down.

Had it been someone else calling him so endearingly, he might have done something violent. But how could he do that to you, his darling companion, when you look so sweet calling him such a ridiculous name?

"My apologies but... where did that come from?"

"Isn't it cute?" You grin, completely dodging his question.

No, he wants to say. Absolutely not. However, your smile is ever-growing and he can't very well deny you this pleasure. So he sucks it up, draws in a deep inhale to compose himself, and nods.

"Of course, cher."

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Weeks pass and the rest of your friends in the hotel begin to raise a brow at how casually you address such a powerful Overlord. And more than that, he doesn't seem to want to correct you.

It becomes his name reserved exclusively for you. Angel had tried, once, to purr out Allie in a seductive way that made Alastor's skin crawl. Never again.

He gets used to it. Even likes the idea that there is something shared between you that no one else can have. That is, until you're pushing around your breakfast on a plate one morning.

"Can you pass the salt, Alastor?"

He looks up from his mug of coffee in confusion, brain taking a moment to buffer before it catches up with his already moving mouth.

"Alastor?" He repeats his own name, staring at you intensely and most definitely not passing the salt over the table.

You look back up at him blankly. "That's your name, don't wear it out."

He scoffs at your lame joke before sliding the salt shaker over the table. There's something unsettling him and he can't quite place it.

Setting down his newspaper, he watches you as you eat. His gaze is so fiery that you look up from your food almost instantly.

"What's wrong?"

"Are you alright? Have I done something to upset you?"

Your brows scrunch. "No, why?"

"Why did you not call me Allie?"

Complete and utter silence settles over the dining table until he feels like he can't breathe. Your spoonful of food hovers just in front of your open mouth as you stare.

Then, laughter. Laughter fills the room and his ears so heartily that he feels it in his own chest. You double over the table in your fit, spoon clinking onto the plate as you drop it.

"What?" He grumbles.

"Of course I'm not mad at you!" You howl, using a finger to wipe up the tears gathering in your eyes. "'Sides, I thought you hated that name?"

His jaw grows taut. "Hate is a powerful word."

"So you like it?"

"Absolutely not!"

"Liar, you do!"

Alastor is never one to get flustered, but here he is for the first time in his afterlife, teetering on the edge of bursting out in flames. "You are terrible, you know that?"

You snicker, leg getting trapped between his under the table. "Yeah, Allie, I know."

Yet the way his smile softens says it all.

~

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc (send an ask to be added!)

[schlattslonghairytoes]

plus one 🍸 🎀🍷

schlatts mom forces him to bring a plus one to his little sisters sweet sixteen

assistant reader x boss schlatt

schlatts little sister viviennes sweet sixteen was approching fast

Nancy (schlatts mom) had told him and their other brother she expected they bring along plus ones for the evening.

the problem was schlatt had a week to find a date

even his 20 year old brother, adam had a date. yet schlatt would once again show up empty handed

even though he always had a drink in hand

you had been working for him for over a month now and you were becoming very close, yet he was still your boss

so when you noticed on his calender that he needed to "aquire a lady friend" in schlatts words, you knew it was your job to help him

so you knew you had to get him a suit that woukd attract ALL the ladies. you had spoken to his mom and she asked you to get him a nice black suit to match his dad and brother

now you thought schlatt was hot

i mean anyone with working eyes would

but god did he look good in a suit

each one he tried on fit him better than the last

more like each one was slightly tighter around his thick thighs

but you both knew when you found THE one

a nice fitting white button up, slightly tight black dress pants, a black jacket and bowtie to match

as schlatt went to pay you noticed a dress store across the way

"hey, jay?" you spoke out to him

"one sec!" he finished up paying and walked over to you "wha's up toots?" he smiles

"did you ever find a date for viviennes?" you ask innocently

he frowns slightly at this "no, might be outta' luck for this one, maybe next time" he laughs sadly

lightbulb! ☝️🤓💡

"ok i have an idea, i dont mean to overstep but what if i go with you, i mean thats basically my job!" his face brightens when you say that, but the furrow between his brows isnt gone yet, you can already tell hes going to fight this

"doll, i cant ask you to do that, i mean you would have to get a dr-" he gets cut off

"you didnt ask, i offered." you grab his arm and drag him to the dress store parallel to the store you were in.

convincing schlatt you wanted to go to his family function took alot

but the moment you walked out in the first dress you tried on his complaints and bitching died down real fast

he swears this is the hardest hes been in his whole life

all he can think of is having an arm around your waist all night, showing you off to his family, you meeting his sister, hes so out of it he doesnt even realise you picked a dress

he quickly told you to go wait in the car while he bought the dress, which he thought was only fair "since he has to drag you along with him all night"

he bought all 7 dresses, but he kept that part a secret

you both loaded into the subway and went back to his apartment, the next plan was for him to record while you made him dinner and planned his schedule for the week

you two had a very good system going and so far it seemed to be working

after you both ate it was time for you to go, you gathered your belongings and walked out the door

but like every other day, schlatt could not get you off his mind, so he called his "therapist"

a fifteen year old girl by the name of vivienne schlatt

"wha'dda want whore" a large, slightly pimply, forehead appeared on his screen.

"thanks for the warm welcome you brat, i havv'a problem." he laughed

"oh not this again, i though we solved the doing the dishes issue last week, dont tell me next i need to bike over there and do your laundry too." she deadpaned

"no i acutally have a serious non cleaning problem this time, i's about... i's about a girl" he said quietly

"ohhhh you have my attention now! wait is it about that girl you showed me on tiktok? your assistant ohhhhhhhh!" she laughed excitedly

"your making me regret asking my fifteen year old sister for advice, vinnie." schlatt sighed, contemplating hanging up the facetime call

"ok let me lock in" she sat up straight and sat professionally "how can i service you today johnny." she smiled over the pixels of his screen

"ok so y'know how ma' wanted me to bring a girl to your sweet sixteen?" she nodded "well we both know there was no shot i would find one in a week, but she offered and i kinda already like her, but i dont want this to be a one time thing vin, i want to take her to these every time."

the call went silent for a short moment

"sounds like you really like her jay, and i know i dont know much, but you should probably tell her how you feel, or atleast that you want to be with her."

"yeah, you always know what to say huh?." he laughs at his sister, no matter how much younger she was, she was always smarter. but thats what he loved about her.

"pretty much, oh shit i think i forgot to tell you! adam is so stupid, he told ma that her dress wasnt a good color, and ma freaked out and now she wont spe-"

he tuned his sister out after that, but he was forming a fool proof plan in his head.

[kaces-graham-crackers]

Stirring the Quiet - Sips with Stardom

Jenn Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: Y/N's morning is stirred when Jenna arrives before opening hours. She finds herself sipping coffee and sharing stories with the star again. Between bodyguards, family, and an unexpected promise, Y/N's day becomes more than just her regular routine—a start to a little more, one sip at a time.

Word Count: 2.9k

As I unlocked the door and stepped inside, the familiar smell of Chinese takeout filled the air. The sounds of laughter and clatter of utensils echoed from the kitchen. Kicking off my shoes and slipping into my slippers, I sighed in relief. Home. Before I could take another step, Mr. Noodles—my black-and-white tuxedo cat, complete with his signature black bowtie—greeted me by weaving between my legs, purring loudly. "Hey, Noodles," I chuckled, bending down to scratch his chin. He meowed once, flicking his tail, and followed me into the kitchen. Marcus and Caleb sat at the table, surrounded by various takeout containers. Marcus dug into his lo mein while Caleb balanced his fork in one hand and scrolled through his phone with the other. "Look who finally decided to grace us with their presence!" Marcus called out, waving his fork in the air dramatically. "Yeah, too high on your horse to join your big brothers for dinner? Caleb chimed in without even glancing up from his phone. I rolled my eyes and dropped my bag onto the floor, giving Mr. Noodles a final pat before sitting down at the table. "Whatever you say, peasants, you wouldn't believe the day I had." Marcus raised an eyebrow, grinning. "What happened? Did Tom Cruise stop by to argue with his reflection again?" Caleb snicker. "Or did Chris Hemsworth come in to try and order his post-workout protein shake?" 'Ok. So maybe I don't only keep celebrity conversations with just Wilma.' "No, I still don't know what kind of gym rat demands a coffee shop to make a protein shake," I said, grabbing some fried rice. "But actually, it was Meryl Streep. She and her manager walked in, supposedly for a meeting. And they broke into a feud over whether or not she should be having hot chocolate and a donut." Both of them looked at each other, chuckling. Marcus leaned back in his chair to scratch Mr. Noodles under him. "Meryl Streep, defending her sugar right? You go, girl!" I grinned, stuffing a dumpling in my mouth. "Yeah, his face when she chewed him out was priceless." Caleb's full attention is on me now. "What about Will Ferrell? Did he drop by and give any hints about his upcoming movie?" I shook my head. "No Will Ferrell today. But Liam Neeson came in, ordered tea and a jelly donut, and then tripped on his way out. Spilled tea all over the place." Marcus and Caleb both froze mid-bite before bursting into laughter. Marcus set his fork down, "Let me guess, he threatened the floor after that one, right?" Caleb swallowed his food, "I can just imagine him giving his famous death stare. What did you do?" "I gave him another one, free of charge," I shrugged. "The man looked so heartbroken. I couldn't let him walk out like that." They laughed again, shaking their heads in disbelief. Marcus wiped his mouth, "Man, only in your line of work do we find out Meryl Streep and Liam Neeson are out here having bad days like the rest of us."

We kept eating, trading stories about our day. Marcus talked about a guy at the gym who almost dropped a barbell trying to impress some girl. At the same time, Caleb vented about the latest office drama. While leaning over to offer the piece of chicken on my fork to Mr.Noodles, without even thinking, I casually mentioned, "Oh yeah, Jenna Ortega came in today." Marcus froze, his fork nearly dropping, while Caleb slowly lowered his phone. Both of them stared at me in studded silence. "Wait...what?" Caleb asked, voice rising. "The Jenna Ortega?" It took me a second to realize what I had just said, and I immediately felt my face heat up. Damn. "Uhh...yeah. She was just, you know, having coffee." Marcus leaned over the table, grin growing wider. "Are you seriously telling me you met Jenna Ortega and didn't freak out? Come on, you've been obsessed since she made it big on Wednesday." "I wasn't obsessed!" I protested, feeling my cheeks grow even hotter. "And it wasn't a big deal. She's just a regular person." Caleb raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Did you...like talk to her?" I groaned, running a hand through my hair and throwing my head back. "Yeah, we talked a little. She was reading a book I loved, so we ended up geeking out about the author. She already read it, too, just revisiting it." Marcus' grin grew, looking smug. "You geeked out about a book...with her? And you're sitting here acting like it's no big deal?" I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "She's just another customer like anyone else, guys," Caleb smirked. "Uh-huh, sure. Except you're blushing right now." I could feel the heat creeping back into my face. "Am not." Marcus chuckled, shaking his head. "Our lil sis rubbing elbows with big stars. Be careful if she wants to meet us, we're totally gonna embarrass you." I groaned, covering my face. "Shut Up, Please!"

After dinner, I headed upstairs. Changing into a pair of comfy sweats and a loose T-shirt. Noodles, ever my loyal shadow, hopped onto the bed and curled into a little ball beside me as soon as I laid down. He purred, vibrating through the blankets. I grabbed my phone and, doomed scrolled through Instagram and TikTok. But no matter what I did, my mind drifted back to Jenna. The way she was there—from anxious to completely calm in the café. It was hard to match that with the version of her I'd seen on the screen. And the fact that we actually talked? That was still sinking in. Then there was the blush. That small, subtle blush when she realized she was the last one left in the café caught me off guard. Jenna Ortega, the same Jenna who played the confident, intense character on screen, blushing because she'd lost track of time in a quiet little coffee shop? It made her seem so much more...cute. I immediately slapped my face. 'No, no, not what I meant. I meant human.'" When I looked over, Noodles' eyes were wide, and his tail flickering. I must have startled him with that slap. After a moment of us watching each other, Clearly unimpressed, he huffed and circled a few times, kneading the blankets before settling back down. "Sorry Noodles...What do you think? I murmured, my fingers absentmindedly tracing shapes behind his ears. "Do you think I made a fool of myself?" He responded with a soft purr, utterly unbothered by my internal crisis. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand, my mind replaying every detail of the evening: the way Jenna smiled when I brought her the donut, her casual posture as we talked about horror novels, and, of course, the way she blushed. It was as if, for a moment, she wasn't Jenna Ortega, the actress. She was just...Jenna. A regular person who got lost in a book, just like me. I sighed, rolled onto my back, and stared at the ceiling. "I'll probably never see her again, right?" I muttered to myself. Noodles meowed softly in response, unbothered by my troubles. But a small part of me couldn't help but hope that maybe she'd come back. Noodles stretched, yawned, and moved closer, curling up beside me. I smiled at his contentment, but my mind was still swirling with thoughts. I couldn't help but wonder if this was it or if I'd get the chance to talk to her again. Maybe she'd come back. With her lingering in my mind, I eventually drifted off to sleep, contemplating the unexpected conversation that had turned my usual day at work into something unforgettable.

The next morning came far too quickly. My alarm blared, and I groaned, rolling over to smack the snooze button. Mr Noodles, the early riser, pounced on my chest and meowed directly in my face until I finally gave in. "Alright, I'm up," I muttered, pushing him off and dragging myself out of bed. After a quick shower, I threw on some clothes and grabbed my bag, ready to head back to The Daily Grind. As I patted Mr. Noodle's head one more time before slipping out the door. I headed out the door, keys in hand, and my phone buzzed as I locked up. I answered. "Hey, Y/N! You're going to have to open up today," she said, practically out of breath like she was jogging. "The twins are dragging their feet and won't put their shoes on! She yelled that last part as I pulled out of my parking spot. "Mama couldn't take them, so I got stuck on babysitter duty again. I'll be in later." I chuckled, imagining the chaos on her end. "No worries, Captain, I can hold down the fort until you come." "Thanks! Oh, and by the way..." Wilma's tone shifted to something more playful. "How did things go with Primera last night?" I paused for a moment, feeling my face heat up. Of course, Wilma was going to ask. I couldn't avoid it, but...did I really have to tell her everything? I could already picture the girl tackling me if she had to find out on her own fruition. "Y/N? You still there?" Wilma prompted, clearly sensing my hesitation. I sighed, knowing there was no way out. "It was fine. We just talked a bit more," I started, trying to keep my voice casual. "Mhm, sure," Wilma replied, egging me on. "And?" I took a deep breath, feeling the warmth creep up my neck. "Jenna...actually walked me to my car," I admitted, my voice quieter now. "And then she teased me, said I had somehow 'charmed' her like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She flashed that smile—half playful, half serious—like she knew she was messing with me. Honestly, it was impossible not to blush." "Wait, hold up, She walked you to your car?" Wilma interrupted, her voice dripping with amusement. I could practically see her grinning on the other side of the phone. "And what smile? You've already memorized her smile, huh?" I groaned, blushing. "It wasn't like that, Wilma. She was just being...friendly." Wilma laughed. "Friendly? Please. You're a natural-born flirt, and you don't even realize it. And with "that" smile? She was totally into i—" "I wasn't flirting!" I protested; the thought of Jenna's smirk made me doubt my words. "She was just messing with me." "Oh sure, because it's so easy to charm someone with those smooth barista skills," Wilma teased. "You better brace yourself when she comes back. You're in trouble, Y/N." "Yeah," I admitted, resting my head on the steering wheel. "And then her bodyguards showed up out of nowhere and scared the life out of me." Wilma's laughter echoed through the phone. "Bodyguards? Of course. This keeps getting better by the second! What else? I know there's more." I sighed, already resigned to the teasing. "She made me promise that the next time she comes by, I'd share some of the stories about some bodyguards at the café." There was a beat of silence, and then, as expected, her laughter doubled. "Y/N, you've got her hooked! Wild café stories? She's definitely coming back now. Congrats—you've got yourself a celebrity lover. You're basically famous." "Wilma, seriously," I groaned. "Please don't blow this out of proportion." "Oh, honey, it's already out of proportion," her voice full of playful mischief. "You've charmed Jenna Ortega, and now she's coming back for more. I can already see it—this is how it all starts." I rolled my eyes, fully aware of how this conversation would go. "You're impossible." Wilma snickered. "Well, look at you—handling business like a pro. Don't let the fame go to your head, mascot. Remember to stay humble when you're hanging out with Hollywood Royalty." "Yeah, yeah," I muttered, though I couldn't suppress the small laugh. "I'll try not to let it change me."

"Alright, gotta get these monsters buckled and shipped off to school. Don't have too much fun without me!" "Sure, I'll try not to, and hopefully, I'll survive the first horde," I said, grinning as I hung up the phone. As I pocketed my phone, I shook my head, a smile lingering on my lips. I was starting to get used to the teasing. I grabbed my bag and headed inside. The sun crept up, casting soft light through the windows as I unlocked the door. Stepping inside, I could still feel the leftover warmth from yesterday. The café was quiet and still, just how I liked it before the rush. I went to the back, checked in, and threw my stuff into my locker before heading to the employee area. I slipped into my all-black barista uniform—simple black pants and a fitted black shirt before getting my apron from the hook by the door. The apron was the only pop of color, a warm brown that stood out against the dark. As I tied it around my waist, I fell into work mode. First things first: the plants. I grabbed the watering can we kept under the counter, filled it up halfway, and made my way around, giving each hanging plant a good drink. The soft trickle of water and the rustle of leaves was strangely calming, making the café feel like it was waking up, too. I always made sure to take extra care of the plants; Wilma was obsessed with them. Her grandmother had a green thumb, and she followed suit. So she'd notice if even one leaf looked droopy. Next up, I headed to the kitchen to bake the day's pastries. The scent of flour and sugar greeted me as I pulled out the ingredients. I started with the croissants, carefully rolling the dough before placing them on the baking tray.

While they baked, I started on the rest of today's menu items. If a customer wanted anything else, we'd bake it fresh for them. Next, the muffins were mixed with batter and folded in fresh blueberries. The lemon scones were last—I zested the lemons, mixed the dough, and shaped them perfectly before sliding them into the oven. As they finished in the oven, the warm, sweet smells began to fill the café, and I could already imagine the regulars lining up for their favorites. Once they were done, I arranged the croissants, muffins, and scones, which were still hot, and I knew they'd be the first to go as soon as we opened the doors. I also double-checked the coffee machines, making sure they were clean and ready to brew all day long. Once the plants were watered and pastries set, I headed to the front window to hang up a new poster advertising an upcoming poetry night we were hosting. Wilma printed and designed it with bold artistic letters and a little sketch of a coffee cup next to it. I used a bit of tape to secure the edges, securing it to the front window and centered for everyone to see. As I finished up, I wiped down the tables and chairs, making sure everything was spotless. The last thing I needed was someone complaining about a sticky spot on a table or chair. I rearranged the cushions, giving the booths that extra welcoming touch. Everything was in place by the time I was done, and The Daily Grind was ready to go. The café had this lived-in feel that always made me smile. It was the kind of space that felt like a warm hug—for anyone who needed it. I poured the fresh streaming brew into a mug, fixing it up just how I liked it, feeling the warmth spreading through my hands. As I leaned against the counter, taking that first comforting sip, a familiar figure appeared outside, her bodyguards in tow. I wasn't even officially open yet, but when Jenna Ortega knocks, who am I to not answer? I walked over to unlock the door, letting her and the guards in. Jenna wasn't in her usual hoodie this time. Today, she wore a stylish see-through white tee paired with a pair of plaid pants with high heels. Looking casual but chic. "You look nice," I said, feeling the comment slip out naturally. Jenna smiled warmly. "Thanks. She added, "I have an early interview for an upcoming film...and then some other boring meetings," her tone was slightly sarcastic. I gave her a teasing look. "Boring? Sounds like you've got a rough life," I joked, rolling my eyes playfully. Jenna chuckles lightly, brushing her hair out of her face. "Yeah, it's tough being me," she shot back. I shrugged, "Well, technically, we're not open yet, but I've already got everything set up, so if you want, I can get you and your crew settled in." Jenna exchanged a quick look with her bodyguards, who nodded back at her. "Thanks, that would be great." I turned to the guards, who had positioned themselves quietly near the entrance. "So, what can I get you guys?" The taller two, who had a more serious demeanor, spoke first. "I'll take a hot coffee. Black, with two pumps of vanilla and a dash of cinnamon." The second guard, who seemed more talkative, said with a small smile, "Tea, please. With milk and one sugar. I'm more of a tea guy myself." I nodded and then looked back at Jenna, expecting her to give her order, but I beat her. "Iced coffee with caramel and whipped cream, right?" Jenna raised an eyebrow, "Not bad. I guess I'm predictable." Jenna leaned her back on the counter as I got to work preparing the drinks, glancing toward the front. "What's that about?" she asked, pointing to the poster I hung earlier. "Oh, that? We run an event for people to come to enjoy poetry or music with their coffee. It's pretty laid-back. Kind of a 'grab the mic if you feel like it' vibe." Jenna nodded, looking at it. "Noted," was all she said softly. "Here's your drinks," I called. Each drink lined up. I handed the bodyguards their drinks, and they settled into the bar area by the cash register while Jenna and I sat at one of the tables, far enough away to talk privately.

"Sorry to inconvenience you again." Jenna replied, smiling briefly before glancing out the window, her fingers tracing the rim of her drink, a little distracted. "You look like you're lost," I teased. "Something on your mind?" Jenna blinked, snapping out of her thoughts and giving me a small smile." Just thinking about the day ahead. Meetings, interviews...nothing too exciting." She glanced at me, smile falling slightly. "But I guess everyone has their own version of busy, right?" I nodded. "Yeah, but at least your 'busy' involves making movies. Not a bad gig." Jenna chuckled softly, "True, but you'd be surprised how much of it is just waiting around, talking about things you've already said a thousand times. It's not all glamorous." I tilted my head slightly, "I can imagine. It's like running a coffee shop. People think it's just pouring drinks and chatting with customers, but there is a lot of behind-the-scenes stuff no one sees." She looked up around me, a spark of intrigue in her eyes. "Yeah? Like what?" I shrugged. "You know, making sure machines are maintained, cleaned, and functional, keeping the inventory stocked, baking pastries fresh every day, And don't even get me started with dealing with the occasional difficult customer, celebrity or not." She laughed, her smile returning tenfold. "I guess we both deal with our fair share of drama, huh?" I grinned, nodding. "Exactly. but hey, at least you get to wear cool outfits. All I get is this apron." She glanced at my apron. "Well...it suits you. And besides, I'm sure you could pull off one or two if you tried." My blush crept up, but I sipped from my cup to cover it. Jenna gave me a playful smile, taking a sip of her own. "So," Jenna began, "Where's Wilma this morning? I feel like I'm missing the other half of this Daily Grind dynamic duo." "She had to drop off her siblings at school," I explained, getting comfortable. "We've been best friends since preschool. Never really been apart, even traveled across the country to open this place together." Jenna's curiosity grew. "That's amazing. No wonder you guys make a great team; you're like a hive mind." I nodded, laughing at the thought. "As terrifying as that is, we do make a great team. Wilma's practically family. We've seen each other through school and jobs. It's been an adventure." Jenna's gaze softened as she asked, "And your real family? Are they around?" I shifted slightly, setting my drink down. "My older brothers, Marcus and Caleb, live here in California with me. We share an apartment together. But the rest of my family, my parents and younger sister, are back in New York." Her eyes lit up. "Wait, you've got a younger sister too? Same here—she can be such a pain, always finding ways to bug me, but that's little sisters for, right?" Jenna chuckled softly, a mix of affection and exaggeration in her voice. "She keeps me on my toes." I chuckled, adding, "Tell me about it. Sometimes, it's a lot of deciding whether to ship her off or not, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. And then, of course, there's Mr. Noodles." Jenna's brow furrowed in confusion, gnawing at her straw. "Mr. Noodles?" I smiled, nodding. My tuxedo cat. He's the real boss of the house." Jenna gasped loudly, startling her guards. "I need to see pictures. Now." I pulled out my phone, scrolling through the dozens of photos I had of Mr. Noodles, and handed it over. Jenna's face lit up with a huge smile as she swiped through the photos. "He's adorable! Look at this gentleman; his tie is too cute! How can you ever leave him to go to work?" I shrugged, shaking my head. "It's tough, but he's got work too. He's a professional napper around the clock, so he manages without me." Jenna handed the phone back, shaking her head in return. But my brain froze; her fingers brushed against mine for a brief moment. It quite literally—shocked me. "Thanks," she said, her hand lingering just a second longer than I expected before she pulled away. "No problem," I replied, trying to calm my racing heart.

"I think I might be in love with Mr. Noodles more than anything else." she joked. I laughed as the door swung open, and Wilma burst in, a disheveled mess, panting like she had just run a marathon. "Sorry, sorry! I swear, herding those beasts into the car is like trying to wrangle lions." Jenna, her guards, and I all turned to look at Wilma, who attempted to play it cool, straightening up as she wiped her brow. "Don't mind me. I'll be in the back getting ready." But before disappearing, she shot me a cheeky smile and said, "Keep charming, mascot." I quickly drank from my empty mug, hoping the ground of the mug would swallow me whole. Jenna raised an eyebrow, "Mascot?" she asked, her voice laced with amusement. I rubbed the back of my neck, "Yeah, it's just Wilma's nickname. She has called me since we opened the café, and she says I'm the face of the place." Jenna let out a laugh, "That's cute. It suits you," she teased, her smile growing. She added, "So, do I call you Mascot now, or is that just reserved by Wilma?" I chuckled, shaking my head. "More like trademarked; she's big on original nicknames but doesn't mind if they stick." "Alright, then, I'll have to go to the drawing board." She chuckled. Jenna's guards glanced at each other, then at the phone in front of them, before standing up. "Ma'am, we've got to head out. Your manager's been calling non-stop," one of them said, holding up Jenna's phone. It read 25 missed calls and 12 growing messages. She sighed, clearly not ready to leave, but she nodded. "Alright, guess I've got to go face the music." She stood up, and I offered to top off her coffee. "You've got a busy schedule. Want a refill to help get through it?" Jenna smiled gratefully. "That would be great, thanks." I quickly refilled her cup, handing it back to her as she pulled out some cash. I frowned, confused. "You don't have to—" She cut me off with a smirk. "I never paid for my drink the other day, and I'm covering today, too. Keep the change as a tip for the drink and for treating me like an actual person." She handed me the cash, along with a piece of paper. As Jenna and her guards left the café, the door softly closed behind them. I stare down at the money. Suddenly, I felt a pinch on my arm. "Ow!" I yelped, spinning around to see Wilma scolding me. "That was to snap you out of it. Also, for not charging your celebrity crush like a regular customer," she teased, hands on her hips. I shot her a look. "I was! I was just caught up in conversation. And besides, Jenna's a good tipper." Looking back at it, I realized the paper wasn't just her receipt—it had her Instagram handle scribbled at the bottom, along with a note that read, 'Thanks for the coffee and conversations again, Slick. You still owe me some more café stories.' I stood there, dumbfounded, as Wilma yelled back, "Come on, mascot, it's opening time before I take your tip!" Snapping back to reality, I shook my head and pocketed the receipt and money. "Alright, alright, I was just counting!"

[holly-opal]

Smg4 Mr. Puzzles x reader fanfiction

Mr. Puzzles adjusted his bowtie and went on stage, he snatched the microphone and waved to the audience. "Hello everyone! Welcome to tonight's amazing gameshow!" The audience was dead quiet. Mr. Puzzles pulled out a gun and shot the air. Everyone started clapping and cheering for him. He cleared his voice. "In today's show, six contestants will play intense games in order to win 2193864928363982937749384747 million dollars! Plus, win a giant plate of spaghetti!" The crowd cheered and clapped as the contestants walked on stage; Smg4, Smg3, Mario, Luigi, Meggy, and [Y/N]. "My my! I gotta say, you all look dashing tonight. Especially you, [Y/N]~" Mr. Puzzles said, winking at them. They blushed and looked away, very flattered. Mr. Puzzles clapped his hands and the room went dark, and when the lights went back on, there was an obstacle course where it required you to climb on a wall, walk on lava, jump around the spinning sticks, escape the knuckles, etc. Mr. Puzzles blew his horn and the contestants went straight into action.... Except for Mario but who cares.

As they made it to the lava course, they found it difficult to navigate the hot lava. Mario ended up throwing his brother in it and jumped on him, all while he screamed in pain. [Y/N] tried to hop on the tiny rocks, sweating profusely as they tried their hardest to balance themselves. Mr. Puzzles noticed [Y/N] struggling and snapped his fingers, and big rocks rose up from the lava, making a straight path for them to cross. As they made it across, 4 actually tried to hop on the path as well..... It disappeared and he burned to death lmao.

The four contestants now had to jump over the spinning sticks and make it across. They kept getting knocked over by the sticks and [Y/N] kept getting hit by some of them. Mr. Puzzles didn't like that so he snapped his fingers. When one of the sticks was about to hit [Y/N], it fazed through them and did not even leave a scratch. "What the fu-" 3 said before getting bitch slapped off the platform. Now they were in the final obstacle, the knuckles. They chased the contestants around, wanting to bite their pingas. Meggy started punching all of them out of her way and Mario was straight up getting his body eaten by the knuckles, Meggy grabbed his head and started carrying him out. The knuckles cornered [Y/N], growling and foaming at the mouth, [Y/N] was shaking in fear. Mr. Puzzles snapped his fingers and the knuckles were suddenly very nice to [Y/N] cuddling with them and wanting head pats. Finally, Meggy and Mario made it to the finish line together, they both collapsed to the floor exhausted. [Y/N] calmly walked into the finish line with a knuckles in their arms. Mr. Puzzles got on stage again. "And we have a winnnerrrrrr!! Congratulations [Y/N], you won 2193864928363982937749384747 million dollars! Meggy and Mario both yelled "WHAT?!" in unison. [Y/N] was very confused, seeing as they were the last ones to cross the finish line.

"What the hell?! But me and Meggy crossed the finish line, you unfair ass!" Mario protested. Mr. Puzzles ignored the two and took [Y/N]'s hand, he pressed his screen against it, kissing their hand. [Y/N] blushed at the gesture before getting drowned by the huge amounts of money. Mr. Puzzles said goodnight to the audience and the show stopped..............

[Y/N] crawled out of the money pile and saw that the entire place was dark and empty. Did they leave without them? They looked around for a bit and saw a shadow dragging the bodies of Meggy and Mario. [Y/N] followed them into a closet. The closet has dozens upon dozens of TV's. Some were old while some with very new, they were also extremely broken. [Y/N] noticed that there was piles of DVDs with media such as "Mario's Mysteries", "Once upon an Smg4", and "Scooby Mario". [Y/N] felt someone cover their mouth and wrap their arm around their waist. They screamed and struggled. "Oh don't be afraid, darling. I won't hurt you. I would never hurt you." Mr. Puzzles said. He let go of [Y/N] and they started to walk back in fear. Mr. Puzzles had the same smile he always had, but they could tell that he was angry. Mr. Puzzles walked towards them until [Y/N] hit the desk, he looked menacing to them. His tall figure didn't help much. The stress got to them and [Y/N] started to cry, Mr. Puzzles kneeled down and put his hands on their face.

"Don't cry, sweetheart. You look hideous when you cry. Everything will be alright. I just need to rearrange a few things." And with that, Mr. Puzzles snapped his fingers and the screen glitched out. A 'please stand by" card appeared for about five minutes before cutting back to Mr. Puzzles and [Y/N] in bed together. The sun was rising outside, creating a romantic atmosphere for the two lovers. They were both in their pajamas, Mr. Puzzles was spooning [Y/N] and caressing their face. Mr. Puzzles held them close to his chest, it was as if he was afraid to let go of them. "You'll never leave me, right?" He asked. [Y/N] turned around to face Puzzles and put a hand on the side of his TV thingy and kissed him. [Y/N] shook their head, assuring Puzzles that you won't leave him. Ever. Puzzles smiled and they both continued cuddling.

"Mine. You're all mine. And you'll never leave." Puzzles said. [Y/N] smiled and nodded.

Da end.

[mint-fixates]

If you've been following my concept for an AU where Bill isn't evil, you'll know I've been planning to write a fanfic about it. I plan on posting an actual multichapter AU fic on AO3 eventually, but here's a snippet from one of the early chapters for now because I'm drunk and haven't decided I hate it yet

"Well, children, I think it's finally time I introduce you to my husband."

Mabel's eyes widened. "Ohmygosh, Grunkle Ford, you have a HUSBAND?!"

Dipper furrowed his brows. "Our parents never mentioned you being married..."

"Yes, well," Ford cleared his throat, eyes darting around, "The family doesn't exactly... Know. Well, aside from my brother, Stanley, who I'll also be introducing you to fairly soon."

"Grunkle Ford, do you really think the rest of the family would judge you for liking guys?" Mabel raised an eyebrow, "I like guys and girls, and no one cares!"

Ford shook his head. "Oh, no, that's not why I- you know what? It'll be easier to explain once you've met him."

He led them to his room. Mabel was bouncing in place with anticipation, while Dipper was looking at his great uncle skeptically. Why all the secrecy?

Ford knocked on the bedroom door. "Bill, are you in there? I'd like to introduce you to the kids!"

"Ugh, FINALLY! I was going insane hiding in this damn room all day. Well, more insane than usual, haha!" a chipper, pitchy voice said on the other side of the door.

The door opened to reveal... A floating yellow triangle. He had one eye, a bowtie, and a top hat. He was holding two small sacks, both seemingly made from the skin of some indeterminate creature.

"Hiya, mini-Pines! Name's Bill Cipher," he tossed each of them a bag, "A little something to welcome you in!"

Dipper had several questions, but was currently stunned into silence. He opened his bag curiously, fighting the urge to throw it down the hallway when he saw its contents: teeth. The "present" prompted a whole new series of questions: What kind of teeth even are these? How did he get them? Why did he think that this was an appropriate gift for children?

"Woah..." Mabel said as she rifled through her bag, "Are you, like, the reverse tooth fairy? Do I owe you money now?"

Bill laughed. "Nah, these are on the house, kid!"

Dipper cleared his throat, finally finding his voice. "Uh... Great Uncle Bill? Can I ask you a few things?"

Bill shrugged. "Sure, Dip, whatcha got?"

Ford gave his nephew a knowing smile, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Actually, Dipper, I probably have most of the answers you're looking for written down already. I interviewed him extensively once he got here. Where did I put that old journal...?"

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Am I Acting Weird?

Walking home, I just can't shake the feeling that something is off, but I can't figure out what! I asked Coach about it before leaving practice, but he just laughed. He said I was weird not to appreciate the effort I've put into football lately.

He's right. I've been busting my ass, but that's exactly what I'm talking about!

I've never given a damn about improving my rank or even showing up to conditioning! I just wanted to hang out with my buds and mess around with the cheerleaders.

But now, it's like none of that matters! I've skipped the last three parties to bulk up at the gym! I haven't been able to drink anything other than protein shakes, and my meals are always loaded with meat. It's like I can't control myself anymore! Why can't I just take a night off and drink beers with the rest of the boys?

I let out a long groan of frustration and trudge upstairs. My younger sibling Max laying on the couch while the TV blares his favorite show.

Max is the weird one! He's like 18, and all he does is play videogames and sit around all day.

I quickly strip off my sweaty football uniform and toss it into the corner of my bedroom. My muscles are already tired and aching from yesterday's practice, so I can't imagine how sore I'll be feeling when I wake up for tomorrow's early morning workout; something I only recently started doing everyday.

Like every other night, I pull my usual at-home clothes on; a stiff white shirt, black apron, and bowtie. This outfit might seem weird, but it feels nice, especially when I tie everything up extra tight. Max showed me how. Sure, it's not comfortable at all, and I look like a waiter more than anything, but that doesn't bother me.

My little brother is annoying as hell, but he's usually right. Me and dad used to tease him all the time, but we've come around since then.

Now that I'm finally at home and suited up, I can feel my shoulders relax. Whatever was bothering me before can wait. I pull some shiny black shoes on, slip a pair of white gloves over my hands, and carefully step back downstairs. It's important that I make as little noise as possible when I'm home. I wouldn't want to disturb anybody.

"Hey, big bro," Max calls from the couch, "Your home."

"Yes, Max," I answer, taking my usual position next to the couch.

This is where I stand when I'm in the living room anymore. It's just where I feel most comfortable, and it's right next to a little cart of useful supplies. I grab a towel and sling it over my shoulder. It's always a good idea to have one on me when I'm at home. Never know when I'm going to need it.

"My shoes could use a polish while we chat," Max adds, flipping through the channels.

"You got it, Max."

See, the towel does come in handy. I quickly fetch a container of shoe polish on my little cart and kneel by his feet. I've been polishing Max's shoes for a few weeks now, so I've gotten pretty good at it. He doesn't really appreciate the art of it, but I guess it's just something that I'm into.

"How's football? You the best player yet?" Max asks nonchalantly from above.

"No, Max. I've gotten a lot bigger lately, but the quarterback is still a lot more muscular and skilled."

He rolls his eyes and adds, "Give it time I guess. You're going to keep at it until your a professional player like the ones on TV."

I stop buffing his sneaker for a second and glance up at him. His attention is now completely fixated on an NFL videogame.

"Max, that's just it," I admit, "Lately I've been working out and bulking up like I'm some pro-athlete, but I'm not. I don't think I even want to be! That life just seems so grueling."

Max pauses his game and looks down at me solemnly.

I avert my gaze and add, "It's just weird that lately I've put so much work into something I don't want."

"You think that's weird?" he dryly raises an eyebrow.

I just shake my head and turn my attention back to my brother's sneaker. It's going to need a lot more polish before it shines.

The door opens and our father arrives home.

"Hey, boy," he dismissively calls when he sees me on the floor. Then he notices my brother lounging on the couch.

"Max," he says with a bit more emphasis, dipping his head a little.

"Dad, I'm really hungry right now, so could you get a move on with dinner?" Max answers.

"Of course, Max."

Our father immediately drops his keys and briefcase and shuffles into the kitchen. I've always admired him. He played football in college too, so we've always bonded over sports.

But lately, he only seems interested in his work. I rarely see him because he always stays late and picks up night shifts at the office. It's done wonders for his career, so I guess that's good. He's been given a few raises recently for all the extra effort he's put in, but I can tell it's taking a bit of a toll on the guy.

"Big bro, just look at Dad," Max explains to me, "He doesn't complain about anything being weird, does he? He just keeps his mouth shut and goes to work. Be more like him."

I don't speak as I switch to shining his other sneaker. Max is probably right. If Dad can power through long hours in the office to bring home a decent salary, then I can surely shut up and dedicate myself to a career in football.

It doesn't take long for our father to return to the living room.

"The food is almost ready, but here are some drinks while you wait, Max," he says.

Our dad seems minorly annoyed by the starched clothing he has on, but that suit is his typical home outfit. It looks even more stiff and uncomfortable than my get up, but I guess he's willing to put up with it.

Max stands before I can finish at his feet and grabs a glass from our father.

"Whoops, here you can finish them," he says after a swig of wine, kicking the shoes off in my direction, "And then take care of the laundry in my room."

"Sure thing, Max," I answer, but he's already turned his attention to dad.

"Is your wallet in your briefcase?" he asks, "I'm taking a few friends out tonight."

"It is, Max, and the car keys are next to it. The car is low on gas. Should I take it to a station before you go out?"

"Yeah," Max adds between sips, "Take care of that while I eat."

"Of course, Max."

"Oh, and Dad."

"Yes, Max?"

"Start making double portions for big bro's meals. He needs to bulk up faster if he's going to usurp the current quarterback."

I pretend not to hear, and finish up my work with Max's shoes. Maybe my new focus on football hasn't been that strange after all. It's not really the life I thought I'd be pursuing, but it's kind of nice being bigger and more athletic than I used to be. It's not really weird if I think about it. Maybe I can even get a few more reps in after I finish Max's laundry.

I hope he has a good time out with his friends tonight. It's weird, but I don't really know what else I'd spend my time doing.

[shapard]

Feather of Fate🕊️

Lucifer x seraphim!fem!reader

Soulmate arc

Soft Lucifer

They talk in honesty

A/n: When someone wants to request something, go on!

Eternal Sunshine

Chapter 10 > Epilogue

Saying that Lucifer got over protective is an understatement. He always was at least one feet away from you.

Lucifer created a little goat guardian for you, when he wasn’t there and able to protect you. 

You named her Lammy. 

Lucifer always said that it was a boring name. You should name her Shazam or something similar, which you gladly declined. 

Lammy may be a simple name but it is a cute one for your cute little white-brownish goat. She had two small pairs of fairy wings and a pink bowtie. 

You loved your little Lammy and hugged it 24/7 which made Lucifer a little Jealous. 

When Lucifer was there Lammy wasn't allowed on the bed.

Husk and Angel dust were more than happy that you’re alive. They didn’t even let you move an inch. 

And now you were crouched down to the medicine cabinet, because the pain on your back was too much.

“Luce! Where are the pain killers?” You shouted as you looked in the small medicine cabin, you couldn’t find your medications anymore.

A golden shimmer appeared next to you and Lucifer descended from it. 

“They should be in here Apple pie. Why do you need them?” He asked as he crouched down to your level and helped to find the medications. 

“I have pain on my Shoulder.” The pain was on your shoulder blades reminding you of your missing pairs of wings, with a disappointed sigh you sat down on the red carpet. 

“Is there anything more you want to talk about darling?” Lucifer asked out of worry. Since a couple of days, he watched you closely as you sometimes looked outside with a sad expression on your face. You talked a lot less and sometimes you weren’t listening anymore to him. 

“It’s nothing Important.” That was a half lie. 

Even though you and Lucifer were very close and loved each other dearly, there was still a big elephant in the room. 

What was that with Lilith? 

And the way you thought about your wings, you missed them dearly. Now you know how Maleficent when she lost her wings from her own Lover, except it wasn’t Lucifers fault.

“I can see that you’re lying honey.” He snorted and chuckled and took your soft hands in his black clawed ones. “If you don’t want to share that’s okay. Only when you’re ready.” His voice was smooth like butter and his soft lips kissed your forehead softly. 

You take a deep shaky breath, “When I was in that Playhouse. Azrael showed me something.” Lucifer slit eyes switched onto your shaking hands, no doubt was that a very Traumatic event. 

He held them tight letting you know that he’s there for you and will protect you this time. “What has he shown you?” He asked carefully as he watched your eyes fill with sadness, a feeling that clenched around his heart in a hard force.

“You and Lilith, you two were kissing. Meanwhile I-“ A sob escaped your throat, and you laid your head on his chest. 

A pang of guilt resides in Lucifer as he stroked your back in circular motion. “I am sorry my Apple pie. I really hoped you didn’t see that accident, but I guess it was planned."

"She forced herself on me and right after I took care of her that she’ll never show herself back here. Please believe me.” His face was pressed on your hair and he took a deep breath in.

Well, you believe him. You believe him more than you do Azrael, you don’t even know him. 

Michael was dead, he was killed by his own twin brother Lucifer. 

How Ironic. 

You stayed in Lucifers arms a while until your cries calmed down. “Sorry to ruin your day.” Lucifer shook his head and chuckled, “You haven’t ruined anything! Besides we still have the whole night.” 

You started to blush, and your body started to heat up. 

A spark started to swirl on your back, and you felt something coming out. With a quick motion you grabbed some familiar soft feathers on your back and Lucifer whistled. 

“Seems you got your wings back cutie.” He bit his lips and brushed his clawed fingers softly down your Humerus towards the Manus and your body grew hotter every second. 

“Kinda Hot I gotta admit.”

A/n: I wanted to write smut in here but decided against it.

This is the most Pixelated image I've seen in my whole life. Neitherless a God piece.

💫

Sadly I couldn't tag you

@ayanazoldyck @marydragneell @lunaryasha @cherry-cola-100 @lxkeee @latersgaters-steven @fandom-crashlanding @cupidsgift @steadyconnoisseurnacho @crimsonflameproxy @stormz369 @wooleypeaches @fukingsad @starlitvenus @avadakadabra93 @itzabbeym @asmodeussimpnumber1 @sirenetheblogger @k1y0yo @i-have-no-life-charlie @angelicwillows @0puddleofgender0 @fallenh34art @v3r41ynn @froggybich @pank0w @roboticsuccubus83 @littlebear423 @anonymously-ominous @concentratedconcrete

[ouijarat]

Too Weird to Love, Too Scared to Die.

Chapter One

(This was just a silly goofy idea that my partner convinced me to get out of my brain and onto the internet. This takes place in an alternate Weirdmageddon Finale scenario. Btw I hardly ever write and this is my first fic like ever so PLEASE BE NICE TO ME and let me know if y'all like it. Ty <3)

_________________________________________

“I’ll give it to you!” Stanford Pines’ voice echoed from the cage and through the cavernous hall of the fearamid. The world seemed to stop as Stanford’s once beloved Muse-turned-monster’s gigantic eye turned from the two children in his grasp he was about to send to meet their maker a moment ago and onto him. Bill’s gaze was as blinding as the sun. 

“I’ll give you the equation, Cipher! Just… don’t hurt my family… please.” 

Bill stared while Dipper and Mabel’s terrified expressions drilled themselves into Ford’s mind during the stillness. Just as Dipper opened his mouth, seemingly to protest against Ford’s decision, Bill’s shrill, inhuman laughter enveloped their senses; the sound loud enough to rattle one’s skull and make one’s ears bleed should they stand too close. 

“Oh, Sixer! I just knew you’d come around~!” The demon cackled smugly, depositing the young twins on a high up support beam, safe for the time being yet out of their uncles’ reach. The grotesque, gargantuan form of arms and teeth and tongues the triangle had reverted to when angered began to shrink back down to size, the red fading back to yellow as he looked down at Ford with as much sick satisfaction a creature without a proper face could possibly express.

“I’m so happy you’ve finally, finally come to your senses!” 

Stanford looked over his shoulder to glance at his brother, expecting to read contempt, maybe anger at Ford for not thinking of something fast enough; but when their eyes met he only saw fear and uncertainty. He couldn’t bear it, so he averted his gaze. He yelped as his body was lifted off the obsidian palace floor as Bill effortlessly levitated him out of his confinement.

 “I’ve gotta say, IQ,  you really had me going there! I thought you were actually gonna make me kill one of the brats!” He gently dropped Stanford in front of his now much less threatening form, straightening out his bowtie as his little heels collided with the ground with a small click, making himself level with Ford as though foolishly trying to perpetuate the illusion that they were equals here. The laughable notion of respect. 

Ford grimaced, six fingernails digging into each of his palms as he steeled himself, remaining woefully silent. Bill was clearly annoyed that Ford refused to play into his verbal sparring, the demon’s expression souring. 

“Aw c’mon, Fordsie. Don’t be like that. Cheer up! Soon I’ll be free, and I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted!” 

Ford’s eyes darted up to the two children clinging onto each other at least 30 feet above him before he looked back to Bill, his expression flat. “You could never give me anything I would truly want.” 

The triangle looked almost hurt for a moment before he laughed again, regaining his composure.

“And why’s that?” 

Stanford stared at him. “You’re selfish,” He said, his voice tainted with the shadow of disdain. “You couldn’t emotionally fulfill another person if you tried. You’re a monster.”

The demon’s eye twitched, his gaze suddenly distant as his yellow glow seemed to dim. Above them, Dipper squeezed Mabel’s hand in a vice grip, scared that Ford had just signed his own death certificate. Instead, Bill just snapped back to normal in an instant, giggling again. “We’ll see about that. But for now..” He extended a dainty black arm, his hand suddenly engulfed in blue flame awaiting Ford’s palm to complete their deal. 

“Let’s get this show on the road. Eh, Sixer?” 

Ford looked down at the floor below him, too ashamed to meet his family’s gaze as he pressed what was, for all intents and purposes, the big red button for the apocalypse. At least they’ll be safe. He held his breath and grasped Bill’s hand, memories of thirty years ago flashing through his mind as soon as they made contact. The demon’s eye widened maniacally as he cackled, his grasp tightening around Ford’s polydactyl hand as the world around him froze. His surroundings turning to black and white and sensation melting away. In a low, gentle voice Stanford hadn’t heard since he worshiped a god rather than feared a beast, Bill spoke. “You’ll see, Fordsy.” 

And suddenly Ford’s vision went dark. 

…

Stanford woke with a start and quickly shot up, having just woken from the most terrible nightmare. He caught his breath, running a hand through the graying hair that had plastered itself to his forehead with sweat, blinking blindly. His glasses must’ve fallen off the couch as he slept. Only, even for as blind as he was, he could very quickly gather that he was in… a bed. Not his bed. That was odd. He frantically groped around for his glasses, finding them neatly folded on a nightstand beside him. He pushed them up his nose with an index finger and -much to his dismay- confirmed that this was not his room, and this was not the Mystery Shack. 

Ford looked down at himself, noting the red satin pajama set he was dressed in that were also very much not his. Despite how soft the sheets were, he quickly threw them off as though they’d burned him. He stood up carefully, the hardwood floor cold against his bare feet. Taking in his surroundings, he first noticed the room had no windows or interior lamps, and yet was perfectly illuminated in warm, comforting light. Everything about the decor style was so very pointedly… him. The dark oak furniture, the golden constellation map on the wall, the chess set on the desk, the detailed antique globe in the far corner. It was all extremely reminiscent of everything he had wanted to do with his basement study back home, had he had the time. This greatly unsettled him. 

He approached the bedroom door with caution, stopping in his tracks with a hand hovering over the doorknob as he heard the sound of dishes clattering distantly somewhere else in the house. Ford gulped before turning the knob excruciatingly slowly, the door cracking open with a soft creak. Nothing jumped out at him and he wasn’t immediately incinerated, so he continued on, gently pushing it all the way open to reveal… an exceedingly normal hallway. 

The walls were adorned with refined red wallpaper and ornate picture frames, the pictures inside so familiar and yet so violently wrong. Nausea bubbled in his stomach as he stared at the family photographs he had gladly kept hung up throughout the walls of the shack, except now half the family had seemingly vanished, or rather been purposely eliminated from the photos. The only two people present in any of them were himself and Mabel, leaving eerily empty spaces where his brother and grand-nephew should have been. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the image of his grand-niece, her colorful braces on display as she smiled happily with her arms wrapped around nothing but dead air. 

Ford jumped, suddenly ripped away from his horror once more as the loud crash of pans echoed from what seemed to be a lower floor, followed by a soft string of curses in at least five different alien languages, two of which he didn’t recognize. He tiptoed further down the hallway, his right hand itching to wrap itself around the grip of his gun. He distantly wondered what had been done with it, as well as his coat. He’d miss that coat. Ford mentally cursed himself for not simply improvising a weapon sooner in case whatever was downstairs tried to attack, yet he couldn’t stop himself from inching further and further into the house and toward the noise. Damn his curiosity. 

He rounded a corner and was met with a grand staircase leading downward, taking a breath and quietly descending with his back pressed against the wall in an attempt to not risk being seen. Upon reaching the bottom, Stanford froze in place, hearing something sizzling in the next room over, accompanied by the unmistakable stench of burning roadkill. He slowly peeked around the corner, his jaw dropping at the sight before him. 

He peered into what was, he had to admit, a very nice kitchen, complete with stainless steel appliances and black granite countertops. In the middle of said kitchen, holding a pan full of what looked to be a mutilated opossum over the stove, was Bill Cipher in a frilly pink apron. Said apron had the words ‘Kiss the Triangle’ printed across the front in a loopy cursive font, a heart in place of the dot over the ’i’. 

Sensing his presence, the triangular demon turned to look at him cheerfully, eye upturned in a makeshift smile. “Heya, smart guy! I was wondering when you’d wake up, sleepyhead! You’re just in time for breakfast!”

Ford prayed to every god he knew of, earthen, alien or otherwise, that he’d wake up soon.

(Thank you for reading, let me know if you want a chapter two!)

[trensu]

I keep seeing posts about mother's day and Steve Harrington, and it's all in good fun, I don't wanna ruin anyone's fun times. But also, Steve is actually a teenage boy whose parents are never around and has sort of adopted this weird little nerd boy as his little brother. This weird little nerd boy has a mom who loves him very much and supports his interests and worries about his well-being constantly. Somehow, Steve has gotten included in this and he's got this woman fussing over him, if he's eating enough, if he's dressed warmly enough for the weather and please let her know how much he needs for gas because he takes Dustin places all the time.

And then mother's day is coming up and Dustin wants to get her the perfect present but has no idea what to get her because his mom is focused on him all the time and never really mentions anything she wants or needs so he's low-key panicking when he finally gets a hold of Steve and asks him for help. So Steve and him start going to all sorts of shops trying to find something good, something worthy of Claudia Henderson.

Steve helps him buy an extravagant bouquet because moms and flowers right? Dustin finds a bowtie collar for Mews2. They find a cat themed mother's day card. They order a whole fancy carry out meal from Enzo's. He helps Dustin bake a homemade chocolate cake.

Steve puts on the finishing touches to the dining table while Dustin coaxes Mews2 into the bowtie collar. Then it's almost time for Claudia to come home from her shift look idk what she does for a living in canon but I always imagined her as a hospital nurse and hospitals don't close for holidays or weekends so Steve checks Dustin's hair one last time because Dustin wants to look nice for his mom's nice mother's day dinner. Then Steve is grabbing his keys and saying goodbye.

"Dude, where are you going?" Dustin asks, genuinely baffled.

"Uh, home? You're all set up, and your mom's home soon," Steve responds like, duh, where else would he be going right.

"Yeah, so you should clean up! I can't be the only one looking good for Mom."

Steve blinks. "Man, your mom's not gonna want me getting in the way of her day with you."

"what are you talking about? Have you MET Mom?"

And before they could continue arguing, Claudia walks through the door. She sees the dining table laid out all nice, and her furry boy in a bowtie, her little boy with his hair done, and her other bigger boy looking kind of caught out and blushing.

"oh, my boys!" She says. "Did you do all of this for me?"

"Dustin actually--" Steve tries to give Dustin, her actual kid, the credit because he's not about to steal his little bud's thunder but Claudia scoops them both into her arms and peppers them with slightly damp kisses.

"you two didn't have to!" She says. "Oh, let me go get changed from these scrubs. You both sit down, I'll be just a minute. I'm so lucky to have the two sweetest boys in the world." Mews2 takes that moment to meow loudly. "sorry, THREE boys, I didn't forget you, baby."

She shuffles hurriedly to her room, leaving behind a smugly grinning Dustin and a frozen, baffled Steve.

"you heard her," Dustin says, pushing Steve towards an open chair. "We can't disappoint her on mother's day!"

And that's how Steve ended up spending mother's day in a warm home with a loving family, instead of spending the evening alone trying to get a call through to Mrs Harrington with little success.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request headcanons of Heracles, Buddha, and Hades seeing their s/o in a playboy bunny costume?

“[Y/N]! We’re going to be late for the party!” Heracles called through their small home. Even with only half his vocal force, the room booming with the sound of it.

They had been invited to a small gathering of some of the demi-gods and former soldiers for Apokries. The festival season was always one of his favorite of the year. The comradery. The laughter. And of course, the food and drinking.

There were also the elaborate costumes some of the participants wore. It was not a requirement, but encouraged. Dressing up was also something Heracles enjoying. Stepping out of one’s self for a bit to be another. Although this lion’s head was getting rather itchy.

“Ok! I’m ready!”

[Y/N] came out from around the corner. Bright smiled and literally bushy tailed. “Do you like it? Loki mentioned this was a modern bunny costume on Earth these days. He said it would be a wonderful fit for our Lion and the Rabbit costume.”

Heracles just stood there. Staring at [Y/N] as they explained their costume and then process. Then all of a sudden he announced, “how wonderful! It’s so unique!”

The demi-god came over and scooped [Y/N] up in his arms. “How thoughtful of Loki to be so helpful. Maybe he’s finally coming around. But we should head off to the party before we’re late, and show everyone your beautiful costume.”

“Ok!”

They go to the party and receive a lot of stares. Heracles knew that his lion’s head was authentic, but he didn’t think it would get that much attention from strangers.

“Oi! Babe! Let’s go! If we wait any longer we’re going to be late.”

Not that that would be the end of the world. Buddha didn’t really want to go to the party anyway. He’d rather just stay home with [Y/N]. Besides, costume parties seemed lame.

“Alright, alright! I’m coming, I’m coming!”

Buddha turned his head when they came into the room and looked like he had seen a ghost. “What are you wearing??”

“It’s my costume.” They reply nonchalantly. Giving him a little twirl. “Don’t you like it?”

“Oh yeah. I like it.” It was a good thing he usually wore loose fitting pants. “But you can’t wear that.”

“Can’t?” [Y/N] repeated with their hands on their hips.

“You know what I mean. Not ‘can’t can’t’, you just can’t.”

“I thought you were all about ‘free will’ and ‘expression of one’s true self’.” Buddha growled.

“Yeah. But not if people are going to ogle my partner!”

[Y/N] huffed. “That’s their business. We are not in control of how others examine the world, only ourselves.” He was really regretting writing all this stuff down. “I’m going to the party. You can either choose to come with me or stay here. It’s up to you.”

Buddha thought about it for a moment. Would it be better to see those goons ogling them in person, or just imagine it all night?

In the end, he decided to go. It was very hard to keep to the ‘do not harm’ mandate for the evening.

“Dearest, we will need to get going or we will be late.” Hades called from their bedroom. Adjusting his regalia.

Apokries was an auspicious time for the gods. Many festivals. Many offerings. And, of course, many parties for them to attend.

The higher gods had their own party that they normally attended. Mostly his family. A few ‘outsiders’ welcomed into the fold, but typically just them. Hades liked spending time with his family but did appreciate that the party planning could be tedious.

“Ok, I’m ready my love.” [Y/N] came out of their closet in their selected ensemble for the evening. Hades one visible eyebrow arching considerably.

“It’s a lovely outfit, my darling, but you do know that this is a formal affair. Yes?”

“I’m wearing a bowtie.”

Hades sighed and covered his face. Partly due to annoyance. Partly to hide the grin on his face at their retort. “Please change. I wouldn’t ask normally, however I would rather you not be around my lech of a brother and Aphrodite in that.” The two of them would have a field day, and he doesn’t want to see what hells Hera would unleash on them if Zeus, inevitably, couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

[Y/N] huffed and went to change.

They would be late now, but that was his prerogative as the older brother. However, Hades would have to keep that outfit in mind for later. When they were alone. It really was a lovely little outfit.

[theconstantsidekick]

heyyyy...how are you doing.????

I was just wondering that if you have the idea of writing one shots for static verse , could you.. maybe write something where static takes Bucky as her date to her Harvard reunion...

may be when she was studying , everyone used to be so jealous of her cuz she is basically a sassy smartass...but now in the reunion they are acting so nice because she is a lawyer/avenger.. Definitely faking niceness...

and Jamie boy being too proud of his girl...

The Class of '92 | b.b

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings)

Genre: Fluffy with a chance of angst.

Summary: Y/n goes to the Harvard Reunion to reap the benefits of the alumni fees she's been giving out for the last three and a half decades.

(This takes place after the events of Static: Get, Set, Glitch. However, it can be read as a stand-alone piece. But it’s fun. I promise.)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Recreational Drug Use, Mentions of Sex, Minors DNI, 18+ Only.

a/n: I think I strayed a little away from the original premise? I'm sorry?

Bucky Barnes, The Boyfriend (other one-shots) | The Falcon, The Winter Soldier and Static | Static: Get, Set, Glitch | Static Verse Masterlist

If she were being completely honest, she never entertained the idea of going to her class reunions. The whole ‘being-half-alien-aging-like-a-nebula-and-looking-the-same-for-years-on-end’ thing kinda took the wind out of her sails whenever she even thought about accepting the invite.

But that was then. 

Now people know who she is, what she is. No more reasons to hide, no Ross on her ass trying to hunt her down for the Accords, no giant purple grape looking alien knocking at the door threatening to burn the world down, no younger brother constantly being confused as her older brother.

Fuck. She’ll never get used to that.

The moment the invitation popped up on her laptop screen, her first reaction was to call Tony.

“You’ve got Tony Stark. I’m probably busy saving the world or curing a hangover. You can leave a message at the beep but I only get back to people if they’re hot. F.R.I.D.A.Y. will delete your message if you’re not. You’ve been warned.” The pre-recorded voice-message cut off with a beep.

Exhaling harshly, she spoke softly, “I was calling to ask you if you wanted to go to my reunion with me. Free booze, snobby assholes, jealous losers who hate me for being smarter, and did I mention the free booze? Totally your scene.” She fidgeted with the folder on her desk, nervous about a voicemail. “But you’re busy… being a dead dick so… So I guess I’ll just skip it this year as well.”

Life had other plans, though.

Well, her beloved boyfriend James Bucky Barnes did.

“I can go with you?” He offered. 

“What?” she asked him, confused.

“To the reunion,” he answered easily, his eyes still fixed on the omelet he was making for her. “I can go with you. Can’t guarantee I’ll be as fun company as your brother, but I can show you a good time. Pull out all the stops, be the trophy husband of a lifetime.” He smiled at her then. “Only if you want to, though.”

And now here they were. 

“This was a bad idea,” she comments, sipping on her drink.

“Why?” Bucky asks her, more confident than her—which don’t get her wrong was hot as fuck, but very unlike them.

“They’re all… they’re all—”

“Old?” Bucky finished with an amused smile. 

She couldn’t help the smile that slipped out.

He looks good, comfortable and sen-fucking-sational. He’s wearing a black tux with a white shirt and black bowtie. She’d been a little too busy trying to decide what to wear to have noticed him changing into the outfit. Eventually, having finalized on a white twill suit and a blood red silk shirt with a matching tie, she stepped out of her room. And he was a fucking vision.

Looking at him might just be her favourite hobby. She could pursue that shit as a vocation.

“That happens sometimes.” Bucky tells her. “People do get old, you know?”

She looks around at the crowd. They’re at the prime location for people watching, standing at the bar, far in the corner of the vast room. The lights are dim, only sprinkles of yellow scattered around the venue, the rest is overshadowed by a sea of ocean blue. So, she takes the moment, the isolation and takes a while to soak in his words. 

‘People do get old.’

“Yeah… yeah. I know,” she responds solemnly.

He takes a moment too, not to look at the crowd. Bucky seldom looks at anything with interest apart from her. He does the same now, he looks at her, studying the expression on her face. With his assessment done, he says, “I’ve never seen you nervous before.”

“I’m not nervous,” Y/n bites back, scolding him with absolutely no heat whatsoever.

“I’ve never seen you anxious before,” he amends.

Rolling her eyes, “I’m not anxious.”

“Scared?”

She has to look at him then. Brows furrowed, she frowns. 

Bucky throws up his hands instantly, admitting his mistake with an adorable smile.

“I used to steal Bruce’s homemade tacos before he learned to control the Hulk,” she smiles too. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

He takes a step closer to her, his words are softer when he speaks but bold enough for her to hear with ease. Gently placing his hand on the small of her back, he asks, “Then what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I wasn’t exactly… well, let’s just say there’s a reason I avoided going to class when I was in college,” she answers. Bucky’s face scrunches up at the insinuation.

But before he can enquire about it any further, before she can warn him, a voice cuts in.

“That was because you used to be a facetious little know-it-all,” the man comments. “You didn’t need the classes anyway.” He smiles, and there is no warmth in it.

Bucky must notice because his arm tightens just a little around her.

This was bound to happen sooner or later. She decides to roll with the punches. She knew what she was getting into when she came here.

“Charles Walton,” she greets him with a smile, just as dead as his. “Been a long time.”

“I’d say the same, but you look exactly the same as you did back then—not a hair out of place. I’m not sure time even passed,” he jokes, or well he tries.

“What can I say? It’s the price of being an Avenger,” she bites back.

He laughs, a hollow thing. “Hey, Milkovich!” He yells out over her head. “Guess who showed up!”

Well, fuck.

That one shout is enough to draw the attention of the entire class of 92. Cause almost instantly there’s a crowd gathered around Bucky and her. There’s chuckles and whispers among them—some are bewildered at her presence while others seem itching to make this a battlefield. 

“Ah, the famous Avenger,” a female voice chimes in. “You're famous around these parts, you know?” She takes a couple steps closer to them. Assessing her from head to toe, “Not just for being an Avenger, but being so elusive that you didn’t show up for a single reunion… But at least now we know why.”

“Nice to see you too, Seline,” Y/n tells her, calm and centered.

“Shit, Stark!” Mickey Milkovitch balks. “You look the fucking same!” 

And fine, she can take it from Milkovich. The guy was always crass but never rude. He just lacked a fucking filter.

So the smile that she smiles is open and kind. “Thanks, Mick. I could say the same about you.” She’s not lying. The guy looks pretty good for his age… and for the copious amount of alcohol she remembers him consuming during every party and every lecture.

“Not as good as you, holy shit! You really don’t age, do you?” He asks and it’s genuine so again, he gets a pass.

Nodding, “Not enough. My telomeres don’t work right, I think. Rest of me is human… mostly.”

And Mickey seems to take a lot of pleasure in her answer—smiling, he holds up his glass to cheers. She meets him with her own glass.

“Can’t lie, it’s a surprise to see you here,” another woman speaks up. “We thought we’d seen the last of you at the graduation.” 

“Sorry to disappoint you, Candace. I saw the invite and I just couldn’t help myself,” Y/n bites back.

“Didn’t have time for us before?” Candace Huston asks.

“Ah.” Y/n never really liked these snobby prep school kids. Even after all these years, they’ve somehow managed to not change at all. She doesn’t know why she expected them to. “I was a little caught up.”

“Saving the world?” Archer Bass suggests, mocking.

“Yes,” Bucky cuts in before she can form some modest version of that answer. She can always count on him to stump the opposition while she reloads. “That’s the day job. Doesn’t pay as well as whatever it is you guys have been doing. And oh! Odd hours, really odd. But it’s good work, wouldn’t you say, sweetheart?”

She smiles, finding comfort in the warmth of his gaze. “Could’ve been worse. Could’ve been a Personal Injury Lawyer.” Bucky smiles at that and fuck if that doesn’t just rile her up. “Oh! I almost forgot, this is my boyfriend—”

She’s cut off by Charles ‘Chickenshit’ Walton, “The Winter Soldier. We know who he is.”

“At least he’s a looker,” Seline snickers. “I’ll give you that.”

“The two of you make a great couple—The Winter Soldier and Static, ex assassin and ex assassin,” Candace adds with a snide smile. There’s more catty bullshit like that from the rest of the crowd but she kinda zones out.

And fuck it all to hell.

Her entire college life was avoiding these fools.

All her life she’d watched shows about the shitshow that is high school. She hadn’t attended it, of course but Harvard was supposed to be her first try. It was supposed to be her playing her hand at being utterly and completely normal, one with the crowd. College wasn’t supposed to be as brutal as highschool but not as uncaring as a desk job. It was supposed to be an easy middle between the two. Part of her was excited even. But the reality wasn’t all that movies made it out to be.

They were snobs, the fucking lot of them. Always looking at every tiny little detail, studying it a microscope, planning and scheming to find a chink in her armour just to break her down. She didn’t understand why then. Why they didn’t like her, why she was the outsider. Because despite everything she wasn’t exactly that different from them, not to their knowledge at least. Howie was fucking loaded, ipso facto she was too. None of them knew her past but everytime they looked at her their eyes were always hungry, always searching for some weakness.

She gets it now.

It wasn’t hunger. It wasn’t some twisted version of distrust.

It was straight up jealousy.

They were jealous of her.

They were jealous of her back then and if possible they are even more jealous of her now.

Y/n just laughs. She can’t help it, okay? It’s hilarious.

She really, genuinely believed at one point in her life that these fucking dipshits would figure out her secret, when all they were looking for was a way to top the class. These are some of the smartest individuals she’s come across—graduates of Harvard Law. Fuck! They were just kids fighting for brownie points when she was fighting for her freedom. God fucking damn it, she’s been so damn dumb. 

So she laughs.

Bucky looks at her for a second, raises his brow in concern. She waves her hand at him, letting him know she’s fine. It’s just funny.

“Something funny, Stark?” Archer asks, wearing a smile on his face that contradicts his tone which is just a little too shrill to be considered calm.

She shakes her head but continues chuckling.

“Don’t wanna share it with the rest of the class?” Charles bites. “Guess some things just don’t change.”

Y/n laughs a little harder. “My god, Charlie. You sure I’m the only one not aging here? Cause you sound like a sullen teenager.” She waves off his response before he can even form one. “Anyway, as I was saying, this is my boyfriend, Sergeant James Buchanon Barnes.” She drops a kiss on his cheek. “You can call him Sergeant Barnes… Well, except Milkovich. He’s just Barnes to you, Mick.”

Mickey seems pleased with her words, “Nice to meet you, Barnes.” He extends his hand to Bucky who takes it without hesitation. “Always thought your arm was really cool.” 

That one throws Bucky a little. He looks back at her, eyes big and a sneaky curve of his lip. It screams, ‘Where the fuck did you find this guy?’ But like she said, no filter on that one. 

“Why does Milkovitch get special treatment?” Seline rebukes her.

Y/n just shrugs. “Cause he wasn’t a dick to me in college?” Isn’t it obvious?

“Excuse me?” Candace exclaims like the hit was personal. “We were never anything but generous, which was more than what you deserved considering the shit you pulled.”

“One, that is wildly inaccurate. You were all dicks, all of you. But I don’t think I blame you for it, pompous kids do what pompous kids see. And two, what shit did I pull?” She waves at the bartender asking for a refill.

“You are seriously going to pretend you don’t know?” Archer throws back.

Taking the last sip from her drink she sets the now empty glass down on the nearest table. “Yes, enlighten me.”

“You were sleeping with Professor Keating to get the answers to all the tests,” Charles answers, disdain clear on his face.

“I—” She looks from his face to Bucky's, who feigns shock before breaking into a smile.

Charles cuts her off. “You hid it well enough but everyone knew you spent most of the free time between classes in his office. You scored well in every single one of his tests, which were impossible to crack and he was always so very eager to call on you in class.” He scoffs. “We were never able to find any concrete evidence to pin you down, we’ll give you that. But that doesn’t mean we were naive enough not to see it.”

“I—” She begins laughing again. “Professor Keating.” Fuck.

“What’s so fucking funny, Stark?” Archer pushes her. Well, he tries but before he can grab the collar he was reaching for, Bucky’s metal arm is already pulling him off.

“Easy there, cowboy,” Bucky warns.

“Get your hands off me!” Archer tries to brush Bucky off, pushing him back, trying desperately to get out of his grip, but come on. It’s Bucky. “What do you think you’re doing?!” 

“Saving you the ass beating of a lifetime, buddy boy. Be glad it’s me and not her,” Bucky comments causally as he twists Archer’s arm behind his back.

“It’s fine, Sunshine. Let him go,” she coos at him sweetly.

And because he’s Bucky, he urges Archer to take a few steps away from her and then simply lets him go.

“Are you still mentally unstable?! How dare you touch me? I’m gonna sue your Nazi ass for that!” Archer warns. 

“I mean, you can try. But he’s got a great lawyer,” Y/n tells him, grabbing her new drink from the waiter. She takes a sip. “Got him pardoned for countless assassinations. You think assault is where I lose that battle?” The blood drains from Archer’s face, all the color is gone. “And as for the Professor Keating matter,” she giggles again, before forcing herself to compose. “He was ex-KGB. I used to hang out with him after class to find out if he knew the updated location of HYDRA bases.”

“Ex-KGB?” Seline asks, just as pale as Archer.

“You expect us to buy that bullshit story? His name was Arthur Keating for Christ’s Sake!” Candace shouts.

“Which he changed when he asked for political asylum here. His real name was Boris Levitsky. His family was murdered by HYDRA when he couldn’t free some official high in their ranks. After that he was fairly willing to spill all about them,” Y/n explains.

“To a college student?” Charles question, clearly not buying it.

“To an undercover S.H.I.E.L.D. operative,” she corrects.

“You were an undercover S.H.I.E.L.D. operative back then?” Bucky asks her, reclaiming his position next to her with a steady arm around her waist.

“No,” she tells him. “But he didn’t know that.”

Bucky’s face breaks into a proud smile. The sprinkles of yellow around the venue seem to be attracted to her sun. They fall softly on his face, lighting up the curve of his cheekbones, the smile lines around his lips. He seems so much more comfortable in his skin than he used to before. And he shines brighter, if that was even possible. She thinks maybe she’ll have to carry sunglasses around from now on.

“How the fuck did you score so well then?” Seline question, furious at the revelation.

“Did you guys ever think maybe she’s just that fucking smart?” Bucky throws out, kissing her forehead. “My sweetheart’s a fucking genius!” He leans in closer. “A lesser man would be very intimidated by that, you know?”

He’s so close, she can taste his scent on the tip of her tongue. The smell of summer in the woods, and remnants of leather. It drives her insane.

“A lesser man, huh?” She teases. “You’re not intimidated by it then?”

“Oh I am,” he tells her. “Just not very intimidated.”

God, he’s so fucking beautiful.

“Hey! Lovebirds! We’re not done here,” Charles jumps in. 

Rolling her eyes and reluctantly turning back to face the asshat, she asks, “What do you want?”

“Winter Soldier here might think you’re all that, but I know better.” He looks like he’s about to spontaneously combust into flames purely out of anger. “You’re not that smart. Unlike you, some of us worked hard to get where we are. We didn’t rely on fake daddy’s money to make something of ourselves.”

Now that’s just stupid. “Charlie… Come on, man. Howard Stark was not my father, he was my best friend, I just needed a cover. And his money got me nowhere. And, and! The fucker went and got killed before I even graduated.” Bucky’s head falls at the mention, but her time at college was too closely knit to his passing for her to not mention it. “But even after all that if you think I got in because he bribed the board—I didn’t fucking graduate Summa Cum Laude by kicking my feet and batting my eyelashes. I barely came to college to even do that with perfect follow through. That was my dropping-acid-and-doing-fireball-shots phase. I’m surprised to be alive, honestly.” She takes a step towards him. “Maybe in retrospect it seems like everything was handed to me on a silver platter now that my life seems so glorious on the outside, but that wasn’t the case, dude. Part of me wanted to be a lawyer so I could fight for my freedom if the time ever came.”

“Freedom from what, Stark?!” He yells out. “Your life is fucking perfect! You’re an Avengers, governments step aside to make way for you. You’ve got a super hot boyfriend who can clearly throw a punch, what more could you possibly want?” 

Tony.

I want my brother back.

The answer is right there, on the tip of her tongue. But they don’t need to know it. They don’t really deserve it. Not their fault—most people don’t. 

So, instead she steps back, clasps her hands into Bucky’s. “Nothing, actually. You’re right. I couldn’t ask for more.” Someone in the back catches her eye then. “Lighten up, Charlie.” She looks around at the rest of them. “You’re supposed to be the brightest minds of the nation, not petty fucking 6th graders. Lighten the fuck up, kids. I assure you there are worse things to be than fucking Harvard graduates.” She pulls Bucky by the hand and this hunk of a man follows along without an ounce of hesitation, as always. She yells out without turning “I’d say it was nice to see you guys, but it really fucking wasn’t.” But then her steps halt. She turns, “All except you, Milkovitch. It really was nice to see you again. Call me sometime, we should catch up.”

“I don’t have your number,” Mickey replies innocently.

She smiles. “Fine then, I’ll call you.”

“You don’t have my number.”

Her smile just turns mischievous.

Mickey picks up instantly. “Of course,” he says, a little embarrassed. “World class spy—I forgot.”

Hugging the man quickly, she turns and grabs Bucky by the hand again and begins walking off.

“This was amazing! Let’s do this again next year,” Bucky yells out, waving at the gaping faces they’ve left behind.

“Shut up, James.” She hushes him without heat.

“Where you taking me, sweetheart?” He asks, but there is no real curiosity in his question.

So she says as much. “You don’t really seem that curious about it.”

“I’m asking for the fuck of it—to hear you talk. I love hearing you talk.”

“Sap.” She’s smiling.

“I’ll follow you anywhere, don’t care where you take me,” he promises. 

They’ve stopped walking, her target is in her eyesight so she’s all too worried. So she takes the moment to drink him in.

“FUCKING SAP,” she chides, pushing him a little.

Bucky (pretends to) stumble. “Only for you. Always for you,” he tells her, honest and true. He covers the distance between them with a few short steps. His hand comes to caress her jaw, gently—always so gently. He leans in. His lips brush against her as he speaks, “Till the end of my days, sweetheart.”

“Till the end of mine,” she corrects him and then closes the gap.

The best thing about kissing Bucky is that it always feels like the first time. No matter however many times she kisses this boy, every time it feels overwhelmingly new. It feels like her mind is melting, like she’s turning to mush under his hands—one flesh, the other metal. He always knows how to give her exactly what he craves, maybe because she mostly just craves him.

With one hand on her cheek, the other on the small of her back, Bucky pulls her in closer. His tongue tastes of whiskey, but his lips are all him. They are delectable enough to eat. It takes everything in her not to bite down too hard. But she can’t resist the urge to pull his lip between her teeth, biting just hard enough to leave them red. He kindly obliges by slipping his tongue into the mix. He’s so hungry for her, he’s always so fucking hungry for her.

Absent-mindedly she thinks maybe he feels it too. The inexplicable newness in the repeated action of kissing each other. Because hunger like that—hunger like his, seems insatiable. She would give away all of herself to it. Let him consume her whole. She will do just that… Just not here, not now.

Reluctantly, with great strength and determination, she pulls herself away. 

Bucky, this fucker, whimpers. “What?” He whines.

She can’t help but chuckle. “I need to one thing then we can just get the fuck out of here and do more of that—a lot more of that.”

He pretends to think for a second but she already knows she’s won him over. “Fine,” he says after a beat. “What do you need?”

“An answer,” she tells him, before fixing herself a bit and walking over to the woman who’d caught her eye before. 

She’s a tall woman, short black hair—a pixie cut that she pulls off flawlessly. She’s standing alone, smoking in the open area of the venue, looking out at the scene ahead of them.

Y/n approaches her cautiously. “Jeri Hogarth,” she calls out, making the woman turn. “You’re a hard woman to reach.”

“Y/f/n Stark.” Jeri doesn’t even turn to look at her. She keeps on staring straight ahead, smoking. “Did you ever consider, maybe I didn’t want to be reached?”

Y/n lets go of Bucky’s hand, but not before giving it a gentle press as a promise to come back soon. She walks up next to Jeri. “I did consider that possibility, but couldn’t bring myself to care about it, unfortunately.”

And then, finally Jeri turns to look at her, “What do you need for me? I mean it must be something big if you decided to show up here.”

Y/n shrugs. “It’s not big, I wouldn't say. I think it’s more that it’s… urgent?” That seems to intrigue Jeri, she cocks her brow in question. And Y/n answers, “I need to speak with Danny Rand.”

That seems to throw Jeri off. “I—I don’t know where he is. Besides, if you want his business—”

“It’s not about Rand Enterprises, Hogarth.” She clicks her tongue in disappointment. Nothing that fucking arbitrary would bring her here. “I want to talk to Danny’s friend. I want to talk to the Iron Fist.”

“I don’t—” Jeri looks like she’s at a loss for words which, yeah, a fairly new look on her. Y/n had very rarely seen Jeryn Hogarth lose her calm in class. They shared a lot of them, and while she wasn’t exactly kind to Y/n, she wasn’t unkind either.

“I know that you know, Jeri. I also know about Jessica Jones and… Kilgrave.” Y/n doesn’t want to be unkind to her either. “I am sorry about what happened…” Jeri just looks away. “I wouldn’t ask you if it was important, and I wouldn't be looking for Danny if it wasn’t urgent. But I need to talk to him.”

“And you think I can help?” Jeri challenges, finally finding her ground.

But Y/n isn’t here for a fight. “I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t know you could.”

“Why should I?”

“I don’t have a very good reason for that. I don’t think I have anything of value to you that I could even barter with? But I’ll owe you one,” Y/n offers.

“You’ll owe me one?” She asks, unconvinced.

Y/n shrugs. “Yes.”

“And that’s supposed to be good enough?”

For the second time tonight, Y/n just wears a mischievous smile with furrowed brows. 

Jeri seems to understand her without any words being spoken. “Yeah. That’s good enough.” She nods. “Okay, I can try to get a message to him, but there is no guarantee that he’ll respond.”

“He’ll respond,” Y/n answers easily.

Jeri eyes her suspiciously. “So, what’s the message?”

“Just tell him we need to talk,” Y/n answers.

“That’s all?”

“What else am I supposed to fucking say? The peacock rests peacefully in the moonlight?! This isn’t Mission Impossible. I’m not Tom Cruise. I just wanna talk to the dude,” Y/n rebukes.

“Fine,” Jeri tries to calm her down half-heartedly, turning back to the view ahead of her.

“Thanks, Hogarth,” Y/n says one last time before heading out.

Jeri takes out a fresh cigarette and lights it. “Just remember you owe me one.”

With that out of the way, Bucky and Y/n leave the reunion of the class of '92, hand in hand. It’s much later when they’re out for ice cream does Bucky ask the question she had been anticipating the entire night.

“Something was off tonight—before the whole sleeping with the teacher thing.” 

She chuckles at his words. “Was there?” She asks.

“Yeah,” he doesn’t let her dodge it. “You wanna talk about it?” He does give her the option to opt out. He’s so considerate, how can she deny him anything?

They are sitting on the curb outside the 24 hour ice cream shop. They are bathed in the harsh light from the streetlight. Bucky, she thinks, somehow manages to still look pretty in that. He has a chocolate ice-cream cone in his hand that’s melting away at a matching speed to the vanilla cone in hers. They’d spent a little too long lost in each other’s mouths to focus on the ice-cream in a timely fashion. Both of them are now trying to furiously make up for that.

It takes her a moment to find the words. “I… It’s hard looking around at the room and seeing so many people who are… who are…”

“Old?” Bucky supplies again.

She shakes her head, laughing and trying to lick the ice cream off the cone—save it from falling. “No, Jamie. Not that.”

“Then?” He prompts, leaning to lick the leftover ice cream off her fingers.

Taking in a long breath, she musters up her courage and begins. “Tony’s the same age as Milkovitch. Or well, Tony would have been.” Bucky’s eyes turn softer in an instant. “It’s weird to see it—people who used to be young, who used to look like me, a crowd that I could have blended into seamlessly become old and gray. I mean, I lived it with Tony but I was there to see it day in and day out. He aged in front of my eyes, so it felt—it felt…”

“Natural?” Bucky offers.

And yeah. Yeah, it did. So, she nods. “Natural,” she agrees. “I remember when I noticed his first gray hair,” she laughs. “I freaked the fuck out but I didn’t want to tell him, cause that seemed fucking shallow, you know? I tried to hide it but man, I don’t think I was doing a good job ‘cause two days later the poor kid had dyed it black—that one single strand.” Bucky laughs too. “I think he figured out why it was freaking me out and that was his way of—I don’t know—calm me down, maybe?” She clicks her tongue at the thought. “The wrinkles were an easy adjustment. It began with smile lines, crinkles around his eyes every time he’d laugh at a joke, so it was…”

“Comforting?” Bucky suggests, once again giving her the words she can’t seem to find.

She rests her head on his shoulder then, “Yes. It was okay after that—especially after Pepper. Watching him age began feeling like a privilege. It felt like he was growing old instead of, you know, dying?”

Bucky nods. “Are you worried about that now? With me?” She punches him in the side. “FUCK! What was that for?”

She pulls back to face him, “I am not thinking about that shit yet!”

“Oh I’m sorry!” Bucky yells out annoyed and animated. “I was just drawing the LOGICAL conclusion to the conversation, but of course, that was stupid.”

“You’re such a little shit, James,” she rebukes him, shoving him and getting back on her feet.

“I’m a shit?! What did I do?!” He gets up as well. “We keep making grand promises about how we’ll love each other to the end of your days because you’ll obviously live longer.”

“BUCKY, DON’T SAY THAT!” She begins walking towards their motorbike parked in the parking lot.

He follows behind, “It’s not breaking news, Y/n! It’s inevitable.”

“Bucky!”

“But I have a plan!”

That makes her halt. She turns to face him, he almost runs into her. “What’s the plan?”

He smiles all cheeky and insolent. “Freeze me for a decade once in a while.” She can’t believe her ears.”Put me in the fridge every ten years or so for a decade and then pull me out. I’m also open to being in the freezer for a year with a two year gap in the middle as well.” She wants to punch him again. “I haven’t done the math on which will make me live longer but both will definitely extend my lifespan significantly.” She is going to punch him again. “I age a little slower anyway, this was I think we could extend this relationship into the next millennium at leas—” She punches him again. “FUCK! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ONE FOR NOW?” 

Turning around, she begins walking off again. “You’re not ice-cream, Jamie. I’m not fucking freezing you!” She cans the ice-cream in her hand, having lost her appetite.

He follows her again. “I have another plan!”

“Shut up, Barnes!”

“What if we ask Banner to make me body like you guys did for Vision?! Put my consciousness in there?” Bucky asks as they reach their motorbike.

She pulls out the keys, handing them off to Bucky. “What made him capable of emotions was the Mind Stone, you got any spare of those lying around?”

Bucky hops on the bike and then thinks for a second, “Steve told me you guys put Zola in a big computer kinda thing.” She gets on behind him. “What if we did that? I know our sex life might suffer but—”

She punches him right under his ribs..

“STOP FUCKING PUNCHING ME! These ideas are golden.”

She punches him again.

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[wizard-on-whales]

Snowed in

I'm not sure if I qualify for the contest, and it's completely fine if I don't, but I wanted to include a fic anyway :)

I've actually had an idea like this in my head for a while now so I finally have an excuse to write it

Warnings: Mentions of hunting, injury, cursing, mentions of blood and needles, smut, slight angst, slow burn?, older reader (I know.. again.. sorry)

This one's a long one so buckle up... 8.1k words

✭-----------------------------✭

Every year James would take a trip up to a small hunting cabin he owned in the middle of nowhere in the mountains of Washington state. This year his plans were no different, besides with his recent struggles after getting out of rehab he didn't want to go alone. So that's how you ended up tagging along with him. You and James had been close friends all of your life, your band and his band getting along and touring for years. So it was no surprise to you when he asked if you wanted to take the trip with him. So now here you were on the back of a snowmobile, arms wrapped around James’ waist and he navigated through the thick snow and overgrowth to the old cabin.

Despite its rough for wear shape on the outside, with its dirty, old glass windows, and the roof sagging slightly, the inside was spotless. And much to your surprise, knowing how James can be, everything seemed to have a place and was well organized. You had never been up here with him before as it had always been some kind of safe haven for him to get away from everyone for a few weeks. You kicked the snow off of your boots, placing them on the mat by the front door as you stepped inside. The cabin had running water but no electricity which meant the only heat source you could get from the bitter cold was from the old iron wood stove in the corner. James wasted no time as he threw several logs into it, lighting them up. The small room was quickly engulfed in the warmth it put off.

You continued to study the cabin, looking over the old drawings James had done and pinned to the walls. You smiled as you studied them, always loving the strange doodles he would sketch.

“You're the first person I've brought here,” He spoke, sniffing slightly as his nose ran from the cold. You turn to look back at him huddled in his oversized winter coat, his red nose pressed against the scarf he had on.

“Really? I'm honored to be the first,” You give him a genuine smile that he returns before continuing to look around. He has a few photos of his family hung up, a few with his kids, some with his band mates, and even a few with you. You laugh softly as you pull one off the wall. It was a photo from yours and James’ senior prom. Neither of you wanted to go but his older brother and your mom insisted on it and made you go anyway.

“That dress was hideous,” You exclaim, staring at the very 70s looking prom dress your mom had picked out for you. The bottom was ruffled and billowed out, the sleeves three times too big. And your hair was teased to the max. James laughs as he looks over your shoulder to get a glimpse of the photo.

“At least you looked decent,” You giggle, looking at a young James wearing his little tux and bowtie. His hair wasn't much different from how he wore it for several years after, fluffed out, bangs in his face, and as blonde as ever.

“You don't look that bad,” James says, trying not to laugh. You turn and hit him in the chest, letting out a snort as he teases you. James takes the photo from your hand, admiring it for a few seconds longer before putting it back with the others. His smile quickly turns into a frown as he takes in a few of the other photos. Several being him and his now ex wife. You knew the divorce had hit him hard and you had tried your best to offer him comfort the past few years after he had told you about it. James takes the photos down, stacking them into a pile and covering them. You give him a soft smile, resting your hand on his back and rubbing it through the thick fabric of his coat.

“It'll get better,” You say quietly, trying to offer some condolence. James nods his head, letting out a sigh.

“Yeah, I know,” He says sadly, stepping away from the photos and turning his attention back to the fire. He doesn't speak any longer as he opens the small door on the stove and pokes at the hot coals with a metal rod.

“If you're hungry I can probably fix us something,” You speak, breaking the sullen silence that had fallen over the cabin. You glance out the small window next to the door as you wait for his answer. The snowmobile sat just outside, a small sled attached to the back holding all of the gear you would need for the next few weeks.

“Yeah I could use a bite of something,” He speaks as he closes the door and sets the rod down. You answer by nodding your head before slipping your boots back on and stepping back into the cold. The wind nips at your face, instantly turning your cheeks red. You couldn't lie to yourself that you felt alone as you looked around. Despite James' company, the rural area and the jagged mountains around you made you feel a little uneasy. The trees that surrounded the cabin were tall, bushy pine trees that seemed to blend perfectly into the sky. The heavy white snow clung to their branches causing them to creak and groan with every gust of wind. You shivered, not being able to comprehend how James could spend days up here by himself.

You tread through the thick snow, following the same footsteps you made as you came in. James follows you out to help you unload the gear and drag it all into the cabin. He helped you carry the canvas and leather bags, grabbing the ones he knew would be too heavy for you to lift. He threw them over his shoulders with no problem as he walked back inside. You grabbed your own bag and one of the coolers full of food before following him. The snow that had clung to your shoes and the bags melted into the floor, creating small pools of water that sat on the old, polished wood floors. You stare at the puddles, looking around to see if there was anything you could clean them up with so that neither of you slip or get wet. James tosses you a towel, giving you no time to react as it hits you in the face and falls to the floor. He lets out a hearty laugh, watching as you give him an annoyed pout.

“I thought you'd catch it,” He tries to defend himself, his voice still holding back a laugh. You roll your eyes, bending over to grab the towel off of the floor.

“You didn't warn me,” You huff, kneeling down to clean up some of the water and swipe the excess snow back out the door. James closes the door for good once you've finished.

“It's too late in the afternoon to really do anything so we'll just stay in here for the rest of the night,” He explains, kneeling down to organize some of the bags. He finds one of the coolers, pushing it over towards the stove before grabbing one of his own bags. As you finish wiping the floor, you toss the towel on the rubber mat next to the door, knowing you'll need it again. You slip your boots off and place them on the mat as well before sliding your thick coat off and hanging it in the coat rack. You were still bundled in plenty of layers, your sweatshirt warming you enough. You pad over to the cooler James had slid across the floor, the zipper making a loud sound as you pulled on it to open the lid.

“What do you want me to fix? There's plenty in here,” You ask him, watching as he pulls some candles out of his bag to add to the collection of the old, half melted ones he had placed everywhere.

“Uhmm…let's save the more filling things for when we've actually done some stuff. Something light is fine,” He doesn't give you a direct answer as he lights the candles. You take this as your sign to just choose whatever you were in the mood for. You pulled out a box of hamburger helper, deciding that would be plenty for the night.

“Where are the pans?” You ask him, standing up from your spot and looking around the room. James pointed to the small kitchen before speaking up.

“Under the sink.” He replied, going back to lighting the candles. You nod, walking over to the sink and pulling back the small curtain that was fastened underneath. A small stack of pans sat under it. You grab a heavy cast iron skillet, wiping some of the dust off with your hand before walking back to the stove and setting it down on top. You had never cooked on a wood stove before so you didn't know how well it could end but you proceeded on anyway.

As you prepared dinner, James pulled out the sleeping bags and mats, rolling them out on the floor in the corner. The cabin was only the single room, plus the dingy bathroom that had been added who knows how long ago. There wasn't any room for a couch or bed so sleeping on the floor was the only option. You wanted to laugh at him as he unrolled your own sleeping bag right next to his but you knew it would be warmer that way so you bit your tongue. Plus, after years of touring with him and being forced to share a hotel room, privacy didn't exist between the two of you anymore.

“Is that almost done?” He questions, his voice sounding desperate. You roll your eyes at his impatience, glancing back at him.

“Almost…does that clock work?” You reply before asking him a question. You look at the clock above him, seeing the second hand tick as every minute passes. It read 4:30 PM but you glanced outside the window, seeing nothing but darkness. Your heart sped up as you looked out, wondering what could possibly be staring back at you.

“Yeah, it's the same time on my watch,” He answers, looking from the clock, to his watch, back to you. You scoop dinner into a few camp cups, sliding a spoon into each before you join him on the floor.

“Huh, I guess I didn't realize it was getting dark so early already,” You say, knowing it usually gets dark early this time of year, but not realizing just how dark it gets since you're typically near the city lights. James takes his cup from your hand as you hold it out for him, the hot food inside warming up your hands. You both sit on your sleeping bag, backs against the wall as you eat, talking about nothing in particular. It had been so long since you had been able to sit down and have a proper conversation like this with James, you didn't realize just how much you had missed his company. With covid locking you in your house the past year and the general chaos that surrounds touring schedules it was hard to have genuine one on one time. He always had a way of making you laugh until you couldn't breath, even if it was something simple.

As the two of you finished your dinner, scraping the last bits out of the cups the conversation died down to a comfortable silence. The wind howled loudly outside as a small storm moved in from the surrounding mountains. You listen as a lone wolf starts to yelp in the distance, quickly being followed by a whole pack. You can't help but feel anxiety pool in your stomach at the thought of a group of wolves being somewhere close by. The only thing keeping them from you was the thin walls of the cabin. James seemed calm enough as he listened quietly to their howling.

“How do you stand being all the way out here by yourself?” You ask quietly, glancing over at him. He smiled, fiddling with the empty cup in his hands as he thought of an answer.

“It's scary sometimes, but being in the city scares me too. I'd rather be out here like God intended, nothing but trees and animals,” You nod your head at his response, his words being no surprise to you. You reach over and grab his cup from his hand, standing up to take them over to the sink. There was a second window that sat above it, this one slightly bigger. As you rinsed the cups out, you watched the snow fall heavily outside. You had always loved the snow, winter being your favorite since a child. It was magical to watch it fall from the sky, the white powder seeming to stop time and making the world feel quiet and empty.

“Do you remember back in, what, ‘85 I think, when we were driving to your dad's house for Christmas and our car got stuck in the snow and we walked the rest of the way?” James’ voice is quiet as he speaks but you were able to hear it clearly from across the room. You walk back towards him, taking your place next to him as you smile fondly at the memory.

“I thought I was gonna freeze to death, we were idiots for not waiting for someone to pull us out,” James laughs as he remembers the almost 2 hour trek through the thick snow and your complaints the entire way. By the time the two of you had gotten to the house you swore your fingers were going to fall off.

“I remember the way your dad yelled at us for not doing that. I swear I thought he was gonna kill us,” James smiles, shaking his head at the thought. You had always been close with your family and since James had a strained relationship with his, they welcomed him with open arms. Your parents had been second parents to him, inviting him to every holiday and on every vacation. And because of that, your dad didn't hesitate to scold him like his own child.

The two of you continue to talk about old memories, reminding each other of things the other one had long forgotten about. After a while your eyes start to droop as exhaustion starts to set in. You glance up at the clock seeing that it's nearing midnight. You let out a small yawn, stretching your arms.

“It's getting late, we should probably go to bed,” James agrees, looking at the clock himself before shuffling around the cabin to get ready for bed. You both change out of your thick winter gear and into some warm pajamas, not caring about privacy as you had seen it all before. You crawl into your sleeping bag before James, watching as he blows out the candles. Your sleeping bag was in the corner, where James assumed you would have wanted it. His was next to yours so you were trapped between the wall and him as he crawled into his. Despite blowing out all of the candles the cabin was still illuminated by the fire in the stove. He had thrown a few extra logs in before laying down so that it would continue to bring through the night and well into the morning, keeping you as warm as it could. Despite that, you still shivered. The mats underneath the sleeping bags did little to keep your body off of the cold floor and even though you had a few blankets wrapped around you, there was still a lack of warmth. James lay still, his eyes closed as he seemed content, he was always hot so you assumed he wasn't as cold as you were. You curled up further, bringing your legs to your chest as you tossed and turned, trying to fight the cold and fall asleep.

“Are you cold?” James whispered, his voice already laced with sleep.

“Freezing,” you huff, rubbing your hands up and down your legs in an attempt to get rid of some of the goose bumps. James pulled his hand out, unzipping his sleeping bag and holding it open.

“Come here then,” He says casually. It wasn't the first time the two of you had cuddled, it was a frequent thing when the two of you were younger. Several lonely nights were spent in eachothers arms as you looked for comfort in one another. Although sharing a sleeping bag seemed like a new level of close proximity. You hesitate for a second but the idea of his warmth pressed against you made you give in. You crawled out of your sleeping bag, dragging one of the blankets with you before scooting into his. He zips it back up as you press your back to his chest and rest your head on his pillow. He puts his arm back into the sleeping bag, wrapping it around your waist before dropping his head back onto the pillow, his face in your hair.

With him pressed against you, your goosebumps quickly faded and sleep began to overtake you. The comfort of his arms and the warmth of his body seemed to rock you to sleep instantly. But maybe it was just an instinct from the many times he had practically rocked you to sleep when you've cried over something and confided in him. He knew how to calm you down quickly, as did you with him. For years, you were the only person he would cry in front of, the only person he felt he could be vulnerable with, to be his true self with. And because of that, you in his arms felt right, it always had.

The sound of James snoring loudly in your ear is what woke you up the next morning. You shifted in his arms, looking at him. His silver hair was tousled all over the place and his mouth hung open slightly as he snores, drool pooling onto the pillow and onto your hair. You scrunch your face in disgust, pulling your hair away and wiping some of his saliva off of it. You quietly and slowly unzipped the sleeping bag, crawling out of James grasp without waking him. He stirred slightly, closing his mouth but continued to snore.

You slip on a hoodie over your long sleeve shirt, hoping to stay warmer as you start to prepare breakfast. The logs that James had thrown into the stove the night before had burned down to small coals so you threw a few more on, poking at them to get a fire started. You open up the cold foods cooler and pull a pack of sausage out along with a bag of frozen potatoes to make for breakfast. The cast iron skillet from last night was still on the stove top so you quickly take it to the sink to rinse it out before setting it back down, dumping the food into it. James stirs again, turning on to his back and rubbing his eyes.

“Good morning,” you speak quietly, your voice still groggily. He opens his eyes and looks at you, giving you a small smile before returning your words.

“You sure you don't wanna go with me today?” James asks as he sits up. When he invited you on the trip you gladly accepted but you told him you didn't want to be involved in the actual hunting process. Your soft spot for animals would make it difficult to watch if he found something to shoot. So, instead of going out into the woods with him and tracking a deer or elk, you told him you would stay back at the cabin.

“I'm sure, I'll probably just get in your way anyway,” You tell him, stirring the food in the pan so that it doesn't burn or stick. He nods his head, slipping out of his sleeping bag and getting dressed for the day. The kitchen had a small island with two wooden chairs pushed under it so he pulled one out and sat down as you finished up breakfast. You scoop the potato and sausage mixture onto two separate plates, handing one to him and sitting down next to him.

“So when you're out there do you walk around the whole time or do you find a place to stop and stay there for the day?” You question his hunting tactics, taking a bite of your food. He explains them to you as the two of you eat.

“I usually find some tracks to follow for a little while and once I feel like I've gotten close I'll hunker down and stay quiet,” James quickly scarfed down his food before he started to rummage through his gear, getting his things ready. He throws a backpack on, slinging his gun over his shoulder before looking back at you as you finish the last bites of breakfast.

“You gonna be okay here by yourself?” He asks, his face trying to hide its concern. He knew you could handle yourself but that didn't stop him from worrying.

“I'll be okay, I brought a few books so I'll probably just read. Please be safe,” You tell him, worrying about him as well. James nods his head and tells you his goodbyes before he steps outside and disappears for the day. You hear the snowmobile start up and drive off, the noise from it fading as he leaves. The cabin was even quieter without him, the only noise coming from the crackling of the fire and the ticking of the clock. You glance over at it, seeing the time reads 8 am. You let out a small sigh, wondering how to pass the time before you decide to organize some of your things better. All of the gear was still thrown into a pile in the middle of the cabin from when you arrived yesterday afternoon. It doesn't take you long to organize the bags, placing the food coolers onto the kitchen counters, your clothing bags next to your sleeping bags, and everything else piled near the door. You grab a book from your bag, sitting back down on your sleeping bag deciding that's how you would pass time until James came back.

As the hours went by a storm started to pick up outside. You set your book down, getting up to look out the window. The wind blows harshly, snow flying every which way which makes it hard for you to see anything. The dark storm clouds overhead cast a shadow over the forest, darkening it more than you liked. Your heart speeds up, thinking about James being trapped somewhere in this. You stay planted by the window, watching the storm get worse minute by minute, praying James is safe. The wind howls loudly, causing the cabin to creak with each harsh gust it blows. The trees outside twist and turn, throwing heavy piles of snow off of them. Any one of them could fall at any minute, crashing through the cabin or trapping James under one while he's out there. Finally after what seems like forever, you hear the snowmobiles engine off in the distance. You rip the door open, keeping a heavy hold on It so that it doesn't get blown off of its hinges. You scream his name over the wind, hoping he can hear you. The cold chill pierces through your clothes like a thousand needles, the snow blows against your face, causing you to bring your arm up to cover it. James pulls up, quickly turning the snowmobile off before stumbling inside, grabbing your arm to pull you in. You slam the door behind you, locking it so that the wind can't enter.

“Are you okay?” You sat frantically, keeping a hold on him. You couldn't see his face since he had his hood pulled tightly over him, his snow blinds were fastened over his eyes and a scarf pulled up over his nose. He drops his bag and gun by the door, pulling his gear off of his face.

“Yeah…yeah kind of,” he says out of breath. He has a small cut on his cheek, which catches your attention, you grab his arm to pull him closer but he winces harshly as you do, ripping his arm away. You give him a look before gently grabbing his arm, pulling up his jacket sleeve. Underneath he wore a long sleeve shirt which was soaked in a sticky red liquid.

“James,” You scold him, seeing that he is in fact not okay. He shrugs his coat off before pulling his sleeve up to reveal a heavy gash on his arm, blood still dripping out of it. Your eyes widen at the sight as you grab his shoulders, making him take a seat at the island in the kitchen.

“I panicked when the storm started to hit. Slipped and fell right against my knife,” James winces as he tries to laugh and lighten the situation. You were in no mood though as you tried to think about how to stop the bleeding.

“This is deep James…it's gonna need stitches,” you gently took his arm in your hands, inspecting the wound.

“We can't go out there in that storm…we'll get lost on our way back…there's a first aid kit in the bathroom, some fishing line and a sewing kit in my pack,” James tells you casually. Your eyes went wide as you realized what he's suggesting.

“No..there's no way in hell I'm doing that,” You panic, thinking about trying to stitch James up yourself. He takes a deep breath, trying to control the pain as he looks at you with desperation. You look back at him, thinking for a few moments before looking towards his bleeding arm and letting out a heavy sigh. You march towards the bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit that sat on the sink before coming back out and setting it down. You open it up, taking some gauze out and pressing it to his arm, applying a firm amount of pressure. He winces again, sucking in a breath, his hand flexing a bit as you did.

“The fishing line and sewing kit should be in the front pocket of the bag I left with,” James moves your hand, applying pressure himself as you get up to grab the other items. Your hands shake as you walk back towards him, sitting down in the other chair. You flinch as another loud gust of wind blows against the cabin.

“I trust you,” James says quietly, looking at your face. You look up at him with concern before you pull a needle out, bending it so that it's curved.

“This is gonna hurt like a bitch ya know,” You speak, trying to make yourself feel better about the situation. James removed the blood soaked gauze, grabbing some more to press against his arm. As he tries to get the bleeding to die down you prepare everything you think you'd need. You sterilize the needle over a candle flame before dipping it in rubbing alcohol. You cut a section of fishing line off, letting it soak in the rubbing alcohol for a few minutes with the needle. You gently remove James' hand from his arm, taking a small rag and cleaning the wound the best you could. James sucks in another harsh breath, a strand of curses coming out of his mouth as the alcohol burns the open flesh.

“Sorry,” you say quietly, continuing to clean the wound. The bleeding has almost stopped which means you can attempt to sew him up. You grab the needle, threading the alcohol soaked fishing line through it before grabbing James arm. You hesitate, looking towards him, he gives you a nod and clenches his eyes shut. Slowly, you bring the needle to his skin, hands shaking as you piece the flesh. He flinches, swallowing thickly as he tries to hold back a scream. You stand up from the chair to try and get a better angle as you focus all of your attention on his arm, trying your hardest to stitch him up. With each agonizing minute, James continues to let out curses and the storm rages on outside. His other arm comes up to your waist, gripping it as he drops his head against your side.

“I'm almost done,” You try to reassure him, finishing the last stitch. You set the needle down, wiping the small drops of blood that escaped away. You grab some more of the gauze, securing it tightly around his forearm as you finish up. You run your hand through his hair, causing him to look up at you and towards his arm.

“I don't think I would have been able to do that myself, it's good you were here,” He says quietly, his voice tired and strained.

“Please don't ever make me do that again,” You try to smile, scolding him. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for James to injure himself in one way or another and for you to have to care for his minor injuries. This however was the worst thing he's made you do. He laughs slightly at your words, flexing his hand again as he stares at his covered arm. He keeps his other hand firmly on your waist, his thumb subconsciously rubbing your skin through your sweatshirt.

“My left arm has been through some shit,” James jokes, thinking about the few times he's broken it, the countless stitches he's gotten, and the pyro accident from ‘92. You take his hand in yours, playing with his fingers lightly, the scars from the burn still visible.

“I had to baby you for months after your burn,” You giggle, remembering all the times James was whining about his arm. You were in charge of applying the burn cream and helping him change his clothes for a while. James laughs as he remembers the memories, knowing he was probably over dramatic about it at times, especially if it meant he got attention from you.

He squeezes your side, bringing your attention from his arm back to his face. He had a soft smile, looking over you before bringing his hand up and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Thank you,” He speaks quietly, his hand lingers near your face for a second before he pulls it away, setting it in his lap.

“Of course, I wasn't gonna let you bleed out on the floor,” You smile, taking a seat next to him. The blood that had dripped from his arm onto the table and floor had now soaked into the wood, the vibrant red darkening as it dried. You turn your attention to the window above the sink, seeing that the storm was still raging on. You had almost forgotten about it, too focused on trying to help James.

“I wasn't talking about my arm...just…thank you, for everything you've done for me…being by my side all these years,” He spoke softly, his gaze still lingering on you, watching as you looked out the window. He takes his good hand and grabs one of yours you had resting in your lap, giving it a squeeze. You loop your fingers with his, returning the motion.

“You don't have to thank me for that James, I'll always be here for you.” A silence falls over the cabin as James continues to look at you. You could have sworn you felt your cheeks heat up as he smiled softly at you, his warm hand still looped in yours. You look away, shyly, trying to find something you can turn your attention towards.

“Are you hungry,” You ask him, standing up from your spot and taking your hand away from him. You heard him let out a small sigh, a frown covering his face for a second before he answers and stands up.

“Yeah, I probably need to eat something,” James stumbles slightly as he stands, grabbing the counter for support before he regains his balance. You wondered for a second just how much blood he lost, concern filling you again. You walk over to him, helping him over to the sleeping bags. He slides down against the wall, closing his eyes as he leans his head back against it.

“Are you sure you won't throw up if you eat?” You question, knowing he's probably dizzy and not wanting to make him sick. He doesn't open his eyes but he nods his head.

“I won't throw up,” he gives you a reassuring smile. You turn back towards the kitchen, rummaging through the coolers and bags as you look for something to fix. You pull out a few things, deciding on steak knowing it's his favorite. You wash the cast iron skillet yet again before setting the steaks in the pan with some butter. You took out a knife, being careful as you pry open a can of corn and green beans to pour into a pot to go along with the steak. You set everything on the stove top, throwing another log in, the steak sizzling immediately. James opens his eyes as the smell of it quickly fills the cabin. You had your back turned to him as you stood at the stove, watching the food cook. He watched you as you cooked, loving the way you are always so focused on whatever task you're doing. You occasionally stir the pot with the corn and green beans in it and flip the steak when needed. It only took a few minutes to cook, the high heat from the stove cooking it quickly. Plus James liked his steaks bloody anyway. You plate dinner, and turn around to see him watching you. You step towards him, handing him his plate before sitting down next to him.

James mumbles a small thank you as he takes the plate from your hand and sets it on his lap. James grabs his knife with his left hand, attempting to grasp it so he could cut his steak, but the pain from his arm was still too strong for him to fully grip the knife. You notice his struggles, setting your own plate on your lap before reaching over and taking the knife from him, cutting his steak up into bites for him.

“You're gonna have to be careful to not break any of those stitches until we can leave. I don't want you to start bleeding again,” You tell him as you finish cutting his steak. You turn your attention to your own, cutting it into bite sized bits as well.

“I'll try not to but you know me, I'll end up breaking one by tonight,” He jokes, letting out a small snort as he stabs a piece of steak with his fork and pops it in his mouth.

“You aren't planning on still hunting are you? I'm not letting you go back out there with your arm like that. We'll have to leave in the morning if the storm passes,” James nods his head as he listens to your words but you could tell his mind was in a different place. You assumed he was trying to think of something different to take his mind off of the pain.

“We might get snowed in. I left the snowmobile out in the open so it'll probably get buried tonight,” You think about the snowmobile that sat just outside the cabin. There was a small lean-to over to the side that held chopped wood and had just enough space to park something underneath it. But with the wind blowing so wildly, even if he had parked it under there it would have still been covered. Your heart speeds up as you think about potentially being trapped out here, especially with James’ arm. It was at high risk of infection even if you cleaned everything as thoroughly as you could.

You don't respond to his words, deciding to just quietly eat your food as you think about how you're supposed to get back to where James had parked his truck hundreds of miles away. But the sound of forks scraping against the metal camp plates and James’ somewhat annoying open mouth chewing was enough to keep you from fully focusing on your thoughts.

“Hey, I'll be okay,” James spoke as he sensed your fears. He swallowed another bite, his face already less pale than it was just an hour before. You gave him a weak smile, setting down your fork and grabbing his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze so as to not hurt him further.

“You better be,” You say quietly, you couldn't help the voice crack that came when you spoke, a small tear rolling down your face. You go to quickly wipe it away, looking away from James but he gets to it before you. His trembling hand wipes the tear before he rests his palm fully against your cheek. You couldn't lie to yourself that you were incredibly scared of the situation the two of you were in. James, like always though, was handling it well, being a support for you although it should have been the other way around.

James' thumb strokes your cheek, wiping away another tear as it falls. He removes his hand for a second, grabbing the empty plate from your lap, setting it on top of his and then placing them on the floor, sliding them away.

“Come here,” The words ring familiar to your ears as he had spoken them the night before. He lays down on top of the sleeping bags, opening his arms up for you to lay against him. You don't hesitate to crawl against him, making sure you're on his right side before you lean your head on his chest. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, his hand rubbing up and down them slightly. You reach over to his left hand, grazing your fingers over his bandage before you tangle your fingers with his.

The world seems quiet as you lay in his arms, his breathing and heartbeat the only thing you hear. You glance up at him, he had his eyes closed as he relaxed. The warm glow from the fire cast a shadow over his face making his features seem younger, reminding you of when you were kids. He opens his eyes, and they meet yours, the blue from them piercing through you like ice. Without thinking you lean forward and place a kiss against his lips. They were warmer and softer than you had imagined, the taste of him something you'd never want to forget. You pull away, looking at him. Both of you seemed surprised at what just happened but that doesn't stop him from pulling you back into another one. His hand reaches over and grabs your thigh, trying to pull you on top of him. You don't hesitate to swing your leg over his, your body pressed fully against him as you deepen the kiss.

James wraps both of his arms tightly around you, his hand fully splayed against your back as he tries to pull you impossibly close. The thick layers of fabric covering both of you does nothing to hide his growing boner that is pressed between your legs. You move your hips slightly, grinding down against his causing him to let out a groan against your lips. He forces his tongue into your mouth, fighting for some kind of dominance. James holds you close as he changes positions, flipping you onto your back instead. His hands push under your shirt, causing you to jerk slightly as his cold skin touches yours. You both get lost in the kisses, slowly growing desperate as each second passes. James pulls away just long enough to pull your shirt over your head. He pulls his own off, tossing it to the side before leaning back down to connect your lips again. Your pleasure drunk brain seems to snap out of it as you push his shoulder back.

“James we shouldn't,” You mumble against his lips before pushing him away. His face drops, disappointment covering his features as he sits up. You sit up with him, grabbing his injured arm.

“I want to, but I don't want to hurt you,” You tell him quietly, your own disappointment visible. He watches intently as you run your finger over the gauze again, bringing it up his arm as you trace his tattoos.

“You won't hurt me, you can't hurt me,” he says quietly, goosebumps rising over his skin from your touch and the cold air of the cabin that nips at him. Despite that, he felt hot, his eyes trailing over your exposed torso, your hard nipples poking through the thin bra you wore. You look at him, before looking back at his arm, the gears turning in your head. You push him back so that he's leaning against the wall. He lets you puppet him, watching as your fingers make their way to his belt. His heart rate picks up as you unbuckle it, pulling it out of the loops and tossing it to the side. His boner pressed prominently against the fabric of his jeans, desperate to escape. You graze your hand over it through the fabric, causing his hips to raise. You unbuttoned his pants, slowly dragging them down his legs to expose him fully. You swallow thickly at the sight of him, anxiety and excitement pooling in your stomach as you had never been with someone as large as him. James sticks his fingers through the loops on your jeans pulling you into his lap, desperate to taste you again. You smile at the action, feeling his fingers trail up your back and unclip your bra. You slide it off and before you've even had time to drop it to the floor, James’ mouth is on your breasts. His tongue swipes over your nipples causing you to let out a soft moan. You dig your fingers into his hair, cradling his head as he gives your breast attention. You grind your hips down onto his again making him groan against your chest. He leaves small love bites before looking back at you.

“Take these off,” He says, his eyes never leaving yours as he unbuttons your jeans. You get off of his lap for a second, sliding them off before he immediately pulls you close again. You let out a surprised gasp when you feel his erection rub against your swollen lips. You grip his shoulders, hovering over him slightly before slowly pushing yourself down onto him. He throws his head back against the wall, his eyes squeezing shut from the pleasure. You bite your lip, the stretch was painful but you don't stop.

“Fuck you feel good,” He strains, opening his eyes to look down and watch himself disappear as you sit fully on top of him. You rest your forehead against his, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. One hand plays with the small gray curls that rest at the nape of his neck. His hands grip your hips as he holds himself back from pounding into you. Slowly, you start to rock your hips back and forth, letting yourself get used to his size. James continues to groan with each motion, being more vocal than you imagined.

Admittedly, you were being louder than normal yourself. His cock was thick and long, filling you up more than you had ever been before. The veins from it dragging against your walls, pulsing with each moan he let out. The pressure from the angle was more than you could bear as you cried out, bouncing on his lap. James still had a firm grasp on your hips, helping lift you up before roughly pushing you back down. The smell of sex and the squelching between your legs filled the cabin, making you forget everything else. It hasn't even registered in your brain yet that you were desperately riding your best friend. Years of both of you denying rumors that you were dating being thrown down the drain this very second.

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum, Birdie,” James groans, the nickname he gave you years ago rolled out of his mouth with ease but the sound of it on his tongue caused you to clench around him. He quickly wrapped his arms around you, trapping you on top of him as he let out another loud moan, burying his face into your chest. You felt him fill you up, his dick twitching eagerly inside. You brought your hand between your bodies, desperately chasing your own release as your fingers quickly worked themselves against your clit. The feeling of his seed overflowing from your filled walls quickly brought you to your release. You clenched desperately around him again, making him groan from the sensitivity. You drop your head to his shoulder, moaning in his ear as you cum on top of him. You both stay unmoving, gripping each other tightly as you try to catch your breath.

James leans his head back against the wall, causing you to look at him. He gives you a fucked out smile, laughing softly at what just happened. You return the smile, leaning forward to place a kiss on his lips.

“Is this a bad time to tell you I'm bleeding again,” He jokes, looking down at his arm which was smearing blood onto your exposed side. You follow his gaze, watching as the white gauze slowly becomes a vibrant red. Panic sets through you like a deer in headlights, not knowing what to do. You still sat on top of him, his soft dick still being warmed inside your walls. You glance from his arm back to him, seeing the shit eating grin he had on his face.

“I told you I'd break one before the night was over,” He laughs, recalling his earlier words. You give him a stern look, hitting his chest slightly before finally peeling yourself away from him. You both let out one last sigh. You sit down next to him, leaning your side against his as you set his arm in your lap, peeling the bandage away. Only one stitch had broken but it was enough for the bleeding to start again. As you watched it drip down his arm, you felt his cum dripping out of you, causing your face to turn red as the reality of what just happened sets in.

“You're insane,” You tell him quietly, grabbing a blanket to cover your exposed body before you grab the first aid kit again. You didn't think you'd have to put another stitch in since only one had broken. James watched you closely, his eyes lingering over what skin was exposed under the blanket. You sit back down next to him, grabbing more gauze to clean the blood up with before taking a small tube of glue and rubbing it into the exposed part of the wound. You rewrap his arm, setting the first aid kit back by your side.

“I love you,” James speaks softly, his words causing your cheeks to flush. He rests his hand on your thigh, rubbing the skin gently. It wasn't the first time he had spoken those words, but this time they had a different meaning.

“I love you too,” Your voice was hush like his as you rested your head against his bare shoulder and grabbed his hand with yours. He gives your leg a squeeze, kissing your forehead.

“This is going to make Lars happy,” James snorts as he thinks about the situation. Lars had been trying to hook you two up, very unsuccessfully, for years. You laugh as you think about the look the small Danish man will have on his face when he hears about what happened.

You look up at James, a smile still plastered on your face as he meets your gaze, he leans down and connects his lips with yours yet again. The storm outside has died down by now but the wind still blows harshly. The group of wolves from the night before started their duets again, causing you to shiver, but the warmth of James' skin against yours was all you needed to forget your worries.

✭-----------------------------✭

whewh...that was...a lot. I didn't double check spelling or grammar so sorry for any mistakes

[hikarimiyanaga]

The Queen's Bride (Part 3)

Warnings : Omegaverse. Stark!Reader. Omega!Reader x Alpha!Daenerys Targaryen. Modern!AU.

Taglist : @kelloggs4cereal

Sorry for not updating immediately, holidays are crazy here and I have writer's block.

You come home to Catelyn and Ned Stark waiting for you in the mansion's living room.

"Mother. Father." You greet them. Ned scoffs as you bow respectfully at them.

"You are late." He points out and you clench your fist.

"I apologize for the tardiness, Father." 'Never mind the fact that you literally just called me an hour ago.' You bow and he waves away your apology.

"Your mother has prepared a suit for you in your room. Go change and behave yourself at the gala. Understood?" You nod then bow at him.

"Of course."

"Go." He waves you away and you go up to your room. Thankfully, everyone else is asleep so you go straight to your room and change into the white suit with a gray bowtie. Your house's colors.

You go down and see only Catelyn waiting for you.

"Y/N. You look dashing, daughter." You nod as she pretends to fix your tie.

"Thank you, ma." You smile sadly at her as you pull away. "I'll be going now."

Catelyn can only watch as you go into your car and drive away.

She didn't want this. She didn't even want to disturb your day.

"I'm sorry I couldn't stop him."

-

You arrive at the gala and sigh. Galas for the nobility of the Westeros Conglomerate are quite common. There's like one every week. But not everyone has to attend. Not you, at least.

"Finally arrived. You are late." Robb greets and you roll your eyes at him.

"Shut up." You punch his shoulder and he grins at you.

"Thank the gods that you arrived." He holds out a glass of champagne and you take it.

"You need saving?" You ask as you down the champagne.

"Desperately. Every mother wants me to marry their daughter." You laugh at that.

"Never mind that most of them are still underage, right?" He glares at you as the both of you go inside.

"Asshole." You just grin in return and was about to get another glass when someone holds your wrist.

"Finally." Your eyes widen as Daenerys smiles at you. "You are late."

"What? I-I didn't know I was-"

"Supposed to attend? I suppose not. But this is an heir's birthday gala." You look at Robb who was just smiling at you.

"We have him." You point at your older brother and Daenerys nods.

"I suppose so. But still, remember the plan?"

"Plan? We have one? You only gave me rules."

"Yeah. But we have one plan." She pulls you closer. Enough that you can smell her scent. You realize that she smells like sandalwood.

"W-what?" She pulls away and fixes your collar.

"We need to convince everyone that we're in love."

"We do?"

"Yes. I don't this to become just another arranged marriage."

"But it is." She smiles at you.

"Yes. But we can pretend that it's not."

"Why?"

"Too many questions, Y/N." You clear your throat and hold out your arm to her. She smiles as she gets your hand and pulls it to her waist instead. "This is better." She explains and you just nod as you blush profusely. You look at Robb who was smirking at you.

"Good luck." He mouths and you flip him off. He laughs as he goes inside the gala.

"Remember. Look at me like you're in love with me."

"Of course. Can I ask just one question?"

"Sure."

"Are you in love?" She smiles at you.

"That's a secret." She then pulls you inside.

-

You sigh as you get inside the bathroom.

You've been talking to other people for about an hour and you are exhausted. Specially with everyone's snickers and whispers.

"How could a Stark like her have a Targaryen as a fiancé?"

"Isn't she the Omega of the Starks? Did she get lucky?"

"How did Ned convince King Aerys???"

You run a hand through your face and look at the mirror.

"Fuck this gala!" You shout and flinch as a stall opens.

"I agree. Hi, Y/N." Ellaria says and you sigh in relief.

"Ellaria. Is Oberyn around?"

"Yes. He accepted because he wanted free drinks. Why are you here?"

"Ask my Father." You groan as you wash your hands.

"Your father really does control your life, doesn't he?" You glare at her. "How about your training? Does he know?"

"He doesn't. I doubt he'll approve."

"Even though Master Syrio has approved and even recommended you?"

"Yes. Even if fucking Ser Barristan can recommend me, I doubt he'll give a shit."

"Your father is so strict when it comes to you but your brother and sisters has freedom."

"Do they? Do any of us?" You laugh at your own question. "Sometimes I think about running away from all of this."

"Westeros?"

"Everything." Ellaria sighs at your defeated sigh.

"I am not Oberyn. But there is one thing I know. You are one of the most honorable people here. You have to survive." You smile at her then look at the mirror as she leaves.

"Survive? But I-" You clench your fists. "I want to live."

-

You come back to the gala and see that Daenerys is charming yet another group of people. You look around and see Robb talking to a woman. You smile as he lights up as she talks.

"Robb has finally taken a liking to a woman, eh?" You shiver and back away. "Don't be like that, Stark. I know that you're friends with Tyrion." You glare at Jaime.

"Exactly. Tyrion. Not you, ass-hat." He chuckles at the insult then looks at you.

"I heard that your fiancé is showing you off."

"Why the fuck do you care?"

"I actually wanted to marry you, you know?" You shiver at that and you clench your fists as you look at him. "I needed you as shield."

"Why because you're fucking your own-" He quickly covers your mouth and you push him away.

"Shut your mouth, Stark!" He dumps his glass on you and you clench your fist at him. "That's right, stay down, fucking dog."

Daenerys comes to your side then glares at Jaime.

"What happened here?" She asks with an angry tone but you stay quiet. You know what the consequences are if you ever messed with an heir. Specially a Lannister one.

"It was an accident, dear princess." Jaime says and you sigh. "She bumped into me and I didn't budge."

"Really?" She asks you and you look away. You stand and Robb is there, ready to punch Jaime. He was growling but you hold him back.

"Robb, stop." You plead. "It was an accident."

"Like hell it is! I saw him!"

"Robb! Stop!" You clench his suit and he looks at you. You were shaking. "It's not worth it." You push him gently. "I'm not worth it." He glares at Jaime as he guides you.

"This is not over, Lannister." Jaime just smiles as you and Robb leave. He escorts you to your car and gets inside.

"What- your car?"

"I can just get it later. Hop inside." You sit inside the passenger side and sigh. You look at the gala and don't even see Daenerys. She didn't even follow to make sure you were okay. Robb drives away and you take off your jacket.

"Why the fuck did you stop me? That asshole deserves a punch."

"And Father will get angry at you?" He flinches at that and you sigh. "It's not worth it."

"But he pushed you!"

"Robb. Stop. I'm begging you." You get a towel from the bag inside your car and dry yourself with it. "Who was the woman you were talking to?"

"Oh. You saw me?" You hum as you get your phone.

"Yeah."

"Her name's Talisa. She's a doctor."

"Talisa what?"

"Maegyr. She's from Volantis."

"Ah. She's far from home."

"She is. She said Westeros had the best school for medicine so."

"She came here. And she stayed? Is she okay?" Robb laughs at that.

"She said she really liked the place." You chuckle.

"But not the people, huh?"

"No." You both laugh.

-

You wake up in your own apartment and pajamas. After you got home was all a blur. You look around and there was a note from Robb.

Text me when you wake up.

You get your phone and see that it's Sunday. Good. No classes.

You groan and stand from your bed. You get your phone and text a quick 'I'm fine' to Robb. You get ready for the day.

As you finish up your shower, you get a text.

It was Daenerys.

Dani : Are you okay? I'm sorry that I couldn't check up last night. Everyone asked me about us.

You : And? What did they ask about?

Dani : Mostly why I was with you.

You : What did you say?

Dani : That it was a secret. This is just a soft launch after all. We need to keep them in suspense.

You : Got you.

Dani : That Lannister talked to me too.

You : What?

Dani : He said that you are hanging out with his brother which is how he knew you.

You : Ah. Yeah. Tyrion. He's a friend.

Dani : Do you like Tyrion?

You raise an eyebrow at her text.

You : What are you talking about?

Dani : He insinuated that the both of you were "special friends".

You : Special because I'm the rare omega and Tyrion's the rare dwarf. I'm gay, Daenerys.

Dani : Oh. Good to know.

You hum as you put down your phone and get yourself some coffee.

-

You were just lazing around and watching some TV when Jon barges in and looks at you.

"Y/N!" He shouts then hugs you. You push him away and glare at him.

"Personal space, asshole!"

"The date went great!" He ignores your complain. "She was so pretty and cute! We're a match made in heaven!" You glare at him.

"And? Why are you telling me this instead of, I don't know, mating with her?" He blushes and you laugh at him. "Jon Stark! You're a grown ass man! Is the idea of mating with to-" He throws a pillow to your face cuts you off, it was a good thing that you had fast reflexes and you block it with your hand.

"Stop saying that!" You laugh at his blush.

"Seriously? Mating is nothing to be ashamed of, Jon."

"I know that! But I- I-" He groans as he sits besides you.

"You what? Never saw yourself doing it?"

"Technically?" You hum and stand from the couch, you get inside your room and after a few minutes, you come back out with several books in your arms. You settle the books on the coffee table.

"Read up." Jon takes the first book and reads it's title.

'Sex for Dummies.'

"What the fuck?" Despite saying that, he still opens it and reads.

"Planned on giving these to Sansa. Then Arya, and the boys."

"Why?"

"Better me than Father." Jon looks blankly at you.

"Right." He stands from the couch and scoops up the books. "How long can I borrow these for?"

"Two weeks max. Sansa is going to find out her second gender tomorrow."

"What do you think it will be?" You shrug.

"I hope she'll be a beta." Jon nods in agreement and leaves your apartment. You sigh. "I really hope she is."

-

A/N:

Thank you for reading!

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