#not sure if i got the tension or the stitches wrong

[oldsoul007]

Ultraviolence

dr. charlie mayhew x dr!reader

request: Hi, can I request for a Doc Charlie Mayhew x rival in med school days reader. They haven't seen each other in years then reader got into an accident and *surprise surprise* Charlie gets assigned to treat her. Some enemies to lovers kinda thing

warning: arguing, puking

Charlie Mayhew and I were both top students in our medical school, each driven by a fierce determination to become the best doctor. From the very first day, we found ourselves constantly competing, whether it was for the highest grades, the best clinical evaluations, or the most coveted internships. Our rivalry was well-known among our peers and even the professors, who often marveled at our relentless pursuit of excellence.

Despite our competitive nature, there was a mutual respect between Charlie and I. We pushed each other to new heights, each striving to outdo the other. Late-night study sessions in the library often turned into silent battles of endurance, and clinical rounds became arenas for showcasing our knowledge and skills.

Mine and Charlie’s argument had reached a boiling point. We were standing in the study lounge, faces flushed with anger, each unwilling to back down.

"Charlie, your method is reckless and could jeopardize everything we've worked for!" I shouted, my frustration evident.

"And your way is so safe it's boring, y/n! We need to take risks to make an impact!" Charlie retorted, his voice equally loud.

The tension between us was palpable. Neither was willing to consider the other's perspective, and our stubbornness only fueled the fire.

"You always think you know better than everyone else," I accused, my eyes narrowing.

"And you never take a chance, always playing it safe," Charlie shot back, his tone biting.

Our argument echoed through the study lounge, drawing the attention of our classmates. But Charlie and I were too wrapped up in our own battle to notice. The more we argued, the more entrenched we became in our positions.

Finally, I threw up my hands in exasperation. "Fine, do whatever you want, Charlie. But don't expect me to clean up your mess."

Charlie glared at me, his jaw set. "I don't need your approval, y/n. I'll prove you wrong."

With that, we stormed off in opposite directions, the argument unresolved and our rivalry more intense than ever.

I was in the middle of stitching up a patient's wound, my hands steady despite the exhaustion creeping in. The room was filled with the usual sounds of the ER—monitors beeping, hushed conversations, the occasional shout for assistance. I could feel someone's eyes on me, and it didn't take long to figure out who it was. Charlie.

I glanced up briefly and, sure enough, there he was, staring at me from across the room. His gaze was intense, almost scrutinizing. It felt like he was waiting for me to make a mistake, to prove some unspoken point. Annoyance bubbled up inside me. I didn't need this right now, not after the night we'd had.

Without missing a beat, I shot him a sharp, rude look. It was a silent message: back off. He raised an eyebrow, but didn't look away. I could feel the tension between us, thick and palpable, but I forced myself to focus back on my patient. I didn't have time for Charlie's games

After a grueling night at the hospital, the group of medical school students decided to unwind at our favorite local bar. The dim lighting and the hum of conversations provided a stark contrast to the sterile, high-pressure environment we had just left. Me and Charlie, both exhausted yet wired from the adrenaline, found ourselves at opposite ends of the bar.

As the night wore on, tensions that had been simmering beneath the surface started to bubble up. Charlie, feeling the weight of a particularly difficult case, made a snide remark about me handling of a patient. Me, already on edge, snapped back, my voice cutting through the chatter. Our friends tried to diffuse the situation, but the stress of their demanding schedules and the alcohol only fueled the fire.

"You know, y/n, I really don't understand how you handled that patient today. It was almost like you were trying to make things harder for everyone."

My eyes narrowed, the tension immediately palpable. "Excuse me? At least I didn't stand around second-guessing every decision like you did. Maybe if you spent less time criticizing and more time actually helping, we'd get things done faster."

Our friends exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the brewing storm. Charlie leaned in, his voice low but sharp. "Maybe if you weren't so stubborn and actually listened to someone else's fucking opinion for once, things wouldn't get so chaotic."

My face flushed with anger. "You’re an asshole, You think you're the only one who knows anything? Your arrogance is infuriating, Charlie. Just because you have an opinion doesn't mean it's always right."

The argument escalated quickly, with both me and Charlie hurling accusations and frustrations at each other. It wasn't just about the patient anymore; it was about the long hours, the constant pressure, and the unspoken competition between us. The altercation drew the attention of the entire bar, but neither seemed to care as they vented months of pent-up stress.

I sat at my desk, textbooks and notes scattered around me. I had been studying for hours, but the material just wasn't sticking. The test was looming, and I felt the pressure mounting. With a deep sigh, she realized she needed help. The last person I wanted to ask was Charlie, but I didn't have much choice.

Reluctantly, I picked up my phone and sent Charlie a message. "Hey, I need some help with the study material. Can you spare some time?"

Charlie responded quickly. "What will you give me if I do” moments later another message comes through. “Sure, I can help. When do you want to meet?"

We agreed to meet at the library later that afternoon. I felt a mix of relief and frustration. I didn't like admitting I needed help, especially from Charlie, but I knew it was necessary.

When we met, Charlie was surprisingly patient and thorough. He explained the concepts clearly, breaking down the material in a way that made sense to me. Despite my initial reluctance, I found myself grateful for his help.

"Thanks, Charlie," I said at the end of our session. "I really appreciate it."

Charlie smiled. "No problem, y/n. We all need a little help sometimes."

As we packed up our things, I couldn't help but feel a bit more confident about the upcoming test. Maybe working with Charlie wasn't so bad after all.

Years later, I found myself in a hospital room, my head throbbing from the accident I’d just been in. I couldn't believe my luck when the doctor walked in and it was Charlie. Of course, it had to be him.

Charlie looked just as surprised to see me. "Y/n," he sighed, his tone professional but his eyes betraying a hint of the old tension between us. "What happened?"

"Car accident," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "I guess you're my doctor."

"Looks like it," Charlie said, glancing at my chart. "Let's get you checked out."

The examination was awkward, the air thick with unspoken words. Charlie was thorough and professional, but I could sense the tension in his every move. I couldn't help but remember our heated arguments and the unresolved feelings that still lingered between us.

"You're going to be fine," Charlie finally said, stepping back. "Just a few bruises and a mild concussion. You'll need to rest for a few days."

"Thanks," I muttered, not meeting his eyes.

Charlie hesitated for a moment, then added, "If you need anything, let me know. I'll be around."

I nodded, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and frustration. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I was relieved that Charlie was there, even if it meant facing the unresolved tension between us.

Charlie walked into the room, clipboard in hand, ready to do his job. "Alright, y/n, let's get this last check-up done," he said, his tone neutral.

I barely looked at him, my irritation clear. "Just get it over with," I muttered, crossing my arms.

Charlie sighed, trying to keep his cool. "I need you to cooperate, y/n. This is for your own good."

I rolled my eyes, clearly annoyed. "Yeah, whatever. Just do what you have to."

Charlie started the examination, but my attitude was getting under his skin. "You know, a little bit of cooperation would make this easier for both of us."

"Maybe if you weren't so insufferable, I wouldn't be so annoyed," I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Charlie clenched his jaw, trying to stay professional. "I'm just trying to help you. Could you at least try to meet me halfway?"

My eyes flashed with anger. "I don't need your help, Charlie. Just finish the check-up."

Charlie finally snapped. "Fine. But for the record, your attitude isn't helping anyone. I'm just doing my job."

I felt a pang of guilt but quickly pushed it aside. "Whatever."

The rest of the check-up was done in tense silence, both of them stubbornly ignoring the underlying feelings that neither wanted to acknowledge.

Charlie couldn't hold back his frustration any longer. "Y/n, just exactly what were you thinking? You could've been seriously hurt!" he snapped, his voice rising.

I glared at him, my own anger flaring up. "It wasn’t my fault! And why do you even care so much, Charlie? It's not like it matters to you!"

Charlie took a deep breath, trying to calm himself but failing. "Of course it matters! You think I want to see you like this? You need to be more careful."

My eyes softened for a moment as I saw the genuine concern in his eyes. "Why does it matter to you, Charlie? Why do you care so much?"

He hesitated, the words hanging in the air between us. "Because... because I still care about you, y/n. I never stopped."

I felt a lump in my throat. Despite all the tension and unresolved feelings, there was something undeniable between us. "Charlie, I..."

He shook his head, cutting me off. "Just promise me you'll be more careful. I don't want to see you hurt again."

I nodded, feeling a strange mix of emotions. "I promise."

As Charlie turned to leave, the unspoken words and lingering feelings between us seemed to fill the room, leaving both of us wondering what might happen next.

The years had softened some of our rough edges, and the intense rivalry that once defined our relationship had faded into a mutual respect.

The silence between us was comfortable, a stark contrast to our earlier years of constant bickering. As I sat in my hospital bed with charlie sitting next to it keeping me company, memories of our past interactions resurfaced, and we couldn't help but laugh at how far we had come.

Charlie broke the silence first. "You know, I used to watch you work and wonder how you managed to stay so focused. It drove me crazy," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

I chuckled, shaking my head. "I always thought you were just waiting for me to mess up. I guess I never realized you were actually... impressed."

We exchanged a look, and in that moment, it all clicked. The tension, the arguments, the stolen glances—it had all been fueled by something deeper. We had been too stubborn to see it back then, but now, it was undeniable. We had feelings for each other all along.

"Alright, y/n," Charlie began, trying to maintain his professional demeanor. "Let's go over a few things before you leave. First, you'll need to keep an eye on your—"

"—vital signs, particularly any changes in heart rate or blood pressure," I interjected, finishing his sentence with a knowing smirk.

Charlie sighed but continued. "Yes, exactly. And make sure you take your—"

"—pain medication as prescribed, but be mindful of any side effects like dizziness or nausea," I added, my tone light but confident.

He shot me a look, trying to hide his frustration. "Right. Also, you should avoid any strenuous activities for the next—"

"—48 hours, and gradually ease back into your normal routine," I said, my eyes twinkling with amusement.

Charlie couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head. "You know, it's really hard to be the doctor here when you keep finishing my sentences."

I grinned. "Sorry, force of habit. But thanks for taking care of me, Charlie."

He smiled back, the tension easing. "Anytime. Just try not to make a habit of ending up on the patient side of things, okay?"

"Deal," she replied, her smile widening. And with that, the unspoken bond between them grew just a little bit stronger.

I walked back into the hospital, my heart racing a bit faster than usual. I had told myself I was just coming back to grab something I forgot, but deep down, I knew the real reason. I wanted to see Charlie again.

As I made my way through the familiar hallways, I spotted him at the nurses' station, engrossed in some paperwork. Taking a deep breath, I approached him, trying to appear casual.

"Hey, Charlie," I said, my voice steady. "I think I left my, uh, sweater in my the hospital room."

Charlie looked up, a smile spreading across his face when he saw me. "Y/n, hey! I can help you look."

We walked together to the room , chatting about our day. I could feel the butterflies in my stomach, but I tried to keep my cool. As we reached the room, she pretended to search for my sweater.

"Found it!" I exclaimed, holding up the sweater I had actually had all along.

Charlie laughed. "You know, you could have just said you wanted to see me."

I blushed, but I smiled back. "Yeah, I guess I could have."

We stood there for a moment, the air filled with unspoken words. Finally, Charlie broke the silence. "Well, I'm glad you came back. It's always nice to see you, y/n."

I felt my heart swell. "Same here, Charlie. Same here."

Charlie took a step closer, his eyes locking with mine. The room seemed to shrink around us, the air thick with unspoken emotions. Without a word, he reached out, gently cupping my face in his hands. My breath hitched, my heart racing as I realized what was about to happen.

And then, he kissed me. It wasn't tentative or hesitant; it was passionate and full of years of pent-up feelings. The world outside the break room faded away, leaving just the two of them in that moment. I melted into the kiss, my hands finding our way to his shoulders, pulling him closer.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us were breathless, our foreheads resting against each other. Charlie smiled softly, his thumb brushing against my cheek. "I've wanted to do that for a long time," he whispered.

I laughed lightly, my eyes sparkling. "Me too," I admitted. And just like that, the years of unresolved tension and hidden feelings began to unravel, leading us toward a new chapter together.

[artonly]

Blue Square Crochet Coasters

[donutz]

Sebastian Solace x mute & transgender! reader

It's your first time meeting Sebastian, though.. Your kind soul warms his cold heart

— Sebastian doesn't have that much of a cold heart though so Idk where I was going with that one

Warning: Stitches and needles; Mentions of gashes; Sebastian warms up pretty quickly, I don't like it that much but hey🤷‍♀️; "Signing, looks, like, this".; There's tension, not sure if it's sexual but there's tension;

Speed walking through the halls, you constantly looked around you. Anxious for another monster to pop up. Especially those Squiddles… When it came to even darker rooms you jogged through, hating it when you had to search for a keycard.

You were injured, not too bad. Just a gash in your thigh.

*Good thing it couldn’t chop off anything..*

*I wish it got chopped off.*

It’s hard to breathe or really walk anywhere with your binding(If you do bind). After that ‘minor’ injury, you searched through the drawers and lockers, looking for a medkit. Since you found a flashlight earlier, it might be possible to find a medkit.

You look up at the door number, slightly aching your eyes. Immediately looking down at the ground, you repeat what you saw in your head.

‘Door 48’.

It hurts to blink, to walk. Limping your way into the next room. Expecting anything, except a flying vent grille.

“Got something for ya, come here”.

You jump, yipping in your head. You look around for any flashing lights or peering bright green eyes. Maybe even a squiddle? No, none of them.

“C’monnn, I got good things for you, my own shop.”

You physically quivered. Walking over to the vent, and exhaling while crawling through the tight space. Your wound opening up more.

Reaching the end of the vent, you look around, not seeing much. Until a comforting light turns on.

“Welcome, welcome”!

You jump. Bumping your head against the metal vent.

“Oh… You alright?”

Sebastian wasn’t sure why he said that. He just met you! Worrying about a human… Ridiculous.

You shake your head in response. Bumping your head hurt more than it normally would. You’re stressed, hurt, and scared. Not a great combo.

You look at him, signing, “You,speak, sign, language?”

Sebastian’s eyebrows(?) rose.

“Oh! Um”..

“No”. He accidentally signs.

You tilt your head, confused. 

“You.. Don’t”??

He lightly slaps his face. Realizing he said the wrong thing.

“No I do, kind of”.

“I, just, signed, the, wrong, thing”. He sighs.

You show a surprised look on your face. Though it’s not very visible through your darkened visor. You smile, happy that someone could finally understand you. Even if they weren’t really human.

“I’ll talk, though. If that’s.. Nevermind, my name is Sebastian.”

You finally crawl out of the vent, more comfortable now that you know he’s more kind than any other monster down here. Looking around it seems like this small area is a shop.

Oh wait, he said that earlier.

“If I’m correct, you’re… Instructors told you to grab a crystal and secure loose assets. Well as a trade, you give me the data and I give you useful items. It seems like you need a healing tool for that… Gash”.

It seems like you forgot all about that. Maybe it was because you were too focused on Sebastian.

“Well I do have a medkit for that, just 250 research will do the trick.”

Opening your bag, you check how much you have. Your bag pops up a holographic screen of the amount of data you’ve collected.

Around 1755 data.. That’s more than enough.

You walk over to his tail, picking up the medkit and setting it on the ground to collect the right amount of data for it. Maybe even adding an extra tip to give to Sebastian.

You hand him 300 research, smiling because of your appreciation for his kindness. He counts how much there are, his mouth scrunching from confusion.

“Hey— you.. Gave me extra. It’s only 250—”

“I, know”.

“I, just, wanted, to, give, you, extra. Because, of, how, kind, you’ve, been, to, me”.

It was as if your face was glowing within your gear. You’re a very kind human.

“... Why thank you”. But this isn’t a trick right? Urbanshade isn’t trying to make me all soft?

I’m not sure if I can trust this one.

You buy the flash beacon next, giving him the correct amount. Now you only have 1205 research left. Standing up, you hear a pop in your knees from crouching.

Sebastian visibly cringes from that sound, he isn’t very used to that sound. Not anymore.

Peering at the table, you spot a document. Sebastian looks away from you, looking at the light meters high.

You look at him, and he looks back at you. Side eyeing.

“Who’s, document, is, this”?

“That document is mine.. Urbanshade makes documents on every creature or prisoner they have. They probably even have one on you”.

You look back at the document, pondering.

“Is, this, for, sale”?

“Yes, for 1000 research of course”.

You’re surprised at that large amount of ‘money’, but it is reasonable. It’s not like you would want anybody reading a document about you for a small amount. Especially if you’re more of a private person.

“I’ll, buy, it”.

Sebastian’s mouth lightly gapes, “You really have that much”?

You giggle, nodding at him, finding his surprised look funny. You hand over the data, while Sebastian smiles. Mainly because he can use this against Urbanshade, but also because of you. You’re not really like any other human he’s seen or heard of. 

You’re a kind soul.

“I’ll have that ready for you when you’re at the surface”.

Smiling even wider, you step, putting a bit too much pressure on your right leg, causing a sharp pain to shoot throughout it.

You whimper, stepping closer to the wall to sit down. Right near the vent.

“Oh my, you really need that fixed don’t you”?

Nodding, you sigh.

“Do, you, know, how, to, stitch”?

He’s taken aback, it’s not like he thought you knew how to stitch an injury or something. It’s just because he might have to get close. Close to a human.

“I-.. Yes. I do”. He stuttered.

You notice his visible discomfort and worriedly sign, “You, don’t, have, to, if, you, don’t, want, to. I, see, that, you’ve, gone, through, enough, already”.

“When, it, comes, to, humans.” 

He gasps, staying silent as he takes in what you signed. Yes, he has been through enough when it comes through humans.

But you’re different.

“No it’s fine r-really! I’ll stitch it up for you”. He's still not sure why he's acting like this.

He bends down to your height, being careful with his tail. He’d let you rest against it but… Maybe that’s too far.

A few seconds later, he has the smaller needles and thread carefully sat  between his larger claws.

It’s quiet, minus the low ringing of the lights, and the slight swoosh of the fan.

“Okay uhm.. Deep.. Breaths…”

Inhale

He sticks the small needle through your skin, flinching at the feeling. Though it wasn’t too bad.. Just a hard pinch.

Exhaleee….

You might as well fall asleep because of the earlier adrenaline. And god. That hurt. Nevermind a hard pinch, that felt like getting— Ughh. I don’t even want to describe it.

You throw your head back looking up at the heightened ceiling.

… Do you think that’s where Sebastian crawled from?

Like maybe in a vent or something..?

… Sorry—

Pinch!

You grab his sleeve.

“I’m sorry alright! I don’t mean to—” He looks at you. Letting out a sigh.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just…” He inhaled.

Looking at him, “Stressed”? You signed.

Scrunching his eyes, glad you know what he’s feeling. 

Exhaling, “Yeah. Stressed”.

“It’s, okay. I, don’t, mind. I’m, not, the, one, stitching, after, all”. You let out a small laugh. So does he.

“.. Thank you”.

He loops through 3 more times, just one more loop left. During the three loops, you were holding his hand. Warming it up, warm blooded and cold blooded.

Literally and mentally.

“Alright just one more left and we’re done”.

Finally.

Going through the last loop, he tightens the stitches, holding your hand tighter now that he’s finishes his work.

You observe it, astonished at the fine service.

Looking up at him, smiling, you sign, “Thank, you”.

“S, E, B, A, S, T, I, A, N”.

“You’re.. Welcome”...

You slowly start to lose your vision, falling to your right, which leads to Sebastian catching your body with his tail.

“O- Oh”...

I did a different writing style on purpose, I think. Idk I wanted to sound like a professional writer on A03.

[gunnerfc]

breakup with your boyfriend, I'm bored | Steph Catley x Arsenal!Reader (18+)

Summary: You and Steph, despite your past situationship ending, still have a tension-filled relationship and it eventually amounts to something during a night out with the team

Warnings: cheating, bottom steph, top reader, strap use (steph receiving), some angst, fingering (r receiving), thigh riding (steph), r calling steph ‘baby’ ‘babe’ and ‘good girl’

WC: 4.7k

AN 1: cheating bad but 🧎

AN 2: this became my longest fic ever without me planning it to be 😭 I think it might be in my top 2 fics I’ve written tho 🥴

You sighed as you got out of your car, the tough preparation for the match against Manchester City starting to affect you. You stretched your arms as you stood up fully, a small groan leaving your lips as your muscles stretched. While stitching and getting your training bag from the car, you missed when a familiar car pulled into the parking lot.

A familiar car you spent plenty of evenings fogging up the windows. 

Your jaw locked when your eyes finally landed on Steph getting out of her car. You two haven't spoken in a few weeks since the defender ended your “relationship” and started dating someone else. Your relationship with Steph was complicated, there were feelings from the both of you mixed with the excitement of sleeping together. It all became too much for Steph when some of your teammates almost caught you two during an away game. 

Without talking about it, Steph ended your friends-with-benefits relationship and moved on quickly in hopes of getting over you. The defender refused to talk to you unless it was during training or a game and she had no other choice. 

You stopped in your place as you watched her get her things, hoping she’d at least make eye contact with you. You leaned against your car door slightly just as Steph turned in your direction, freezing in her place. You two looked eyes for a moment before she quickly rushed inside, leaving you alone once again. 

You couldn’t help but feel jealous over her new relationship, you thought there was something between you two and you hated how easy it was for her to find someone new. With a small huff, you pushed off your car and headed inside, already dreading being close to Steph and not being able to do anything.

Normal pre-training things took place and went by quickly and soon you found yourself on the training pitch with a drizzle hitting your skin. You listened as Jonas and the other trainers explained the drills for the day, your eyes drifting toward Steph every so often. She caught your eye after a minute before you could look away and the look in her eye made you weak in the knees. You might have been upset she wouldn’t talk to you but she still had the same effect over you. 

You looked away first, trying to refocus on Jonas’ instructions rather than the defender across from you. You subtlety rilled your eyes when Jonas mentioned a small scrimmage, knowing you would be placed on the opposing team Steph would be on. Being a forward meant you two often went head to head on the pitch and with tensions rising between you, you were sure it would translate in your play. 

The training drills went by quickly as the rain became heavier. You tried your hardest to divert your eyes away from Steph’s soaking body knowing the thoughts that would pop into your head would distract you. Each time you looked away from her, the defender’s eyes were locked on you, though she was less subtly as her eyes scanned your body. She knew it was wrong to still feel this way for you when she was seeing someone else but she couldn’t help it.

You groaned softly when Jonas shouted the teams for the scrimmage and your suspicion was proven correct when you were handed a different bib than the one Steph received. After listening to the quick instructions from one of the trainers, you joined Stina on the halfway line waiting for the whistle to be blown. You threw a quick glance toward Steph as you wiped the rain from your face, the defender’s eyes already locked on you. 

A small surge of cockiness filled your body as you planned how to get past her, the need to show off suddenly present. You took off the second you heard the whistle go, quick to find the open area waiting for the pass from your teammates. Just as Leah’s eyes landed on you, the blonde was passing you the ball allowing you to turn toward goal. Right as you turned, your legs were kicked from under you and landed on the soggy ground with a low groan. 

Steph didn’t bother offering you a hand as she quickly got rid of the ball, passing up the field toward Alessia. You lay on the ground for a moment to collect yourself before standing. You pulled at the wet training shirt that clung to your torso which gave a nice shot of your toned stomach. Steph’s eyes trailed across your body as she watched you, her breathing picking up slightly as memories flashed in her mind. 

The rest of the scrimmage was spent similarly. You were thrown to the ground every time you attempted to get past Steph. The very few times that you did manage to get past her, you sent a cocky smirk her way as you walked past her after scoring. You were thankful when Jonas finally called the scrimmage, the rain was steadily falling from the sky and no one wanted to be out there any longer than they needed to be.

Everyone quickly made their way to the locker room, the showers calling everyone’s names. You took your time, allowing some of your teammates to shower first as you waited. You were hoping that Steph would be one of the ones to go first but as she sat in her usual cubby, you were proven wrong.

“I think after this shit show of a training, we should go out for some drinks,” Katie’s accent sounded throughout the locker room.

A few cheers of agreement were her response but none from you. You weren’t sure if going out was something you needed when you had all these pent-up feelings. Hooking up with a stranger was not something you saw yourself doing. When you heard Steph agree when Beth asked her, you were quick to agree as well. Maybe this would be your chance to get the Aussie to speak to you off the pitch. 

After a few minutes of waiting, showers were once again free and you quickly jumped up from your seat to claim one. You took your time in the shower knowing you were one of the last ones and there wouldn’t be anyone else waiting. You were too in your head to realize you weren’t alone during your shower. 

With a towel wrapped around your body, you made your way back to the locker room to find it empty. You paid no attention to the other training bag on the other side of the room with a small ‘7’ etched into it. You hummed to yourself as you got clean clothes out of your bag and started getting dressed.

Just as you had your lower half covered, Steph rounded the corner with a towel wrapped around her body, seemingly under the same impression you were. She froze when she realized it was you and that you were completely topless. The defender’s eyes closed tightly as she swallowed softly, trying her best to forget what she had just seen. You rolled your eyes when you finally looked up from your things.

It’s not like she hasn’t seen you with less clothes on before. Steph did her best to navigate the room with her eyes closed until she knew you were no longer in her eyesight. Her breathing had picked up again as more memories flashed in her mind, memories she wasn't sure she’d ever forget. “You can look y’know. You’ve seen me in less, plenty of times,” you huffed as you finished getting dressed.

“That... was different,” Steph’s voice was raspier than normal, her thoughts too loud and too sensual to process anything else. 

You quickly glanced behind you, your eyes landing on the defender’s bare back as she tied the sweatpants around her waist. As your eyes trailed down her back, your mind flashed back to all the small kisses you’d left on her skin. This time it was your breath that picked up as you quickly looked back to your bag to finish putting everything back in there.

Steph quickly threw on the hoodie she had with her, not realizing it was your hoodie that you had left at her place. When you both turned to leave, your eyes locked on the clothing she was wearing. Your cockiness returned as you smirked slightly while heading toward the door. “You always did look good in my clothes, babe,” you teased as you threw her a quick glance over your shoulder before you left her standing alone. 

A tint of red dusted Steph’s cheeks as she looked down at the hoodie, noticing the logo of the university you attended. The defender tried her best to forget your words as she exited the locker room, though your voice echoed in her mind the entire walk to her car. You were long gone by the time she sat down in the driver's seat, sighing loudly at the confusion she felt. 

You huffed softly as you sat down on the couch, your body screaming at you to rest. You had a few hours before some of the team would be heading out so you opted for a short time until you needed to get ready. You quickly set an alarm before you got comfortable on the couch, eyes falling shut instantly as sleep took over you.

You groaned an hour later when your alarm went off, pulling you from an exciting dream. Your moment with Steph in the locked room followed you into dreamland and your dreams were filled with the low moans of the defender as she begged for more. You took a deep breath before sitting up and stretching. You took as much time as you could picking out an outfit, doing your best to pick things out that you knew Steph loved seeing you in. 

You quickly sent a text in the team group chat to say you were on your way and headed out the door. Thankfully the place Katie had picked out wasn’t too far from your place and you were there a few short minutes later. You quickly parked before heading inside, most of your teammates had gotten there a few minutes early but already had a table for everyone. 

“You look hot, y/n/n,” Leah whistles as you take a seat opposite of her at the table. You playfully roll your eyes at her words before blowing her a teasing kiss. The defender dramatically acted out catching the kiss before winking at you. 

Steph’s fist clenched at her side as she watched you with Leah, a small wave of jealousy hitting her. She shouldn’t feel this way anymore, not when it was her that ended things and was dating someone else. Her mind was drawn away from you as she chatted with Beth and Lia at the other end of the table though every so often her eyes would fall on you. 

“We should go dance!,” Leah shouted to the table, though she earned a few no’s from the more introverted people. 

The blonde cheered when you and Katie stood up, the Irish captain pulling Caitlin up with her despite the Australian’s protests. Steph followed you to the dance floor, her eyes scanning over your entire body as she took in your outfit for the first time that night. You’d worn different pieces that drove her crazy and it proved successful as her chest heaved slightly. Your teammates who stayed at the table laughed at the four of you before they returned to their previous conversations. 

Steph was in the perfect position to make it seem like she was still involved in the conversation while her eyes stayed locked on you. The defender’s jaw clenched when Leah was pressed against your front as you two moved to the music. You had a very fun friendship with Leah but it would not go beyond playfully flirting with each other, which Steph knew. But seeing you pressed so close to each other as you grind against one another had her seeing red. 

Steph offered her two cents here and there as she remained locked on you and Leah, her fists clenching under the table with each passing second. It became too much for her when you leaned in slightly in what looked like you kissing Leah’s neck. 

Steph quickly stood from the table, practically scaring Lia as she jumped slightly. “I’ll be back,” the Aussie cleared her throat as she made her way to the bathroom, passing you as she did so. 

Steph was grateful when she entered the bathroom to find it empty. She leaned against the sink for a moment before throwing some water on her face to cool her down. As she stood up again, a few paper towels were seen in her peripherals. She took them before dabbing her face, her eyes locking with yours when she could see again. 

You wore a teasing smirk on your face as you leaned against the wall with your arms crossed. “You alright, babe,” you asked, your voice laced with a teasing tone.

Steph didn’t respond as she threw the paper towels away. Your eyes followed her sharply as you waited for her to say something. Steph sighed as she leaned back against the sink, her arms mirroring yours as they crossed in front of her chest. The silence in the room was tense as you could just barely hear the echo of the music playing. 

You took a small step toward her as one of your hands landed on the sink behind her, her chest moving faster when you were this close to her. You slowly moved your other hand to rest on the counter as well, giving her enough time to push you away. When she didn’t, you had her pinned softly against the counter. 

Her eyes locked on the stalls behind your shoulder as your eyes traced her features. You moved one of your hands to her chin, guiding her head up slightly and forcing her to look at you. Your eyes dropped to her lips, not trying to hide it as you licked your lips lightly. Your eyes flashed up to hers, you two have done this enough times before that she knew what you were asking. 

With a small nod from the defender, your lips were on hers. You both moaned into the kiss, your lips fighting against each other’s. Steph’s arms uncrossed and moved to wrap around your neck, her hands locking behind you to keep you in your place. You moved your hands to her waist as you pulled her flush against you, your lips still battling for dominance. 

Steph’s body rolled against yours softly, your lips moving against hers as you slipped your tongue into her mouth. Your lips stayed locked until you could hear voices getting closer to the door. You pulled away from Steph, both of you slightly out of breath as you leaned your forehead against hers. “Do you wanna go back to my place,” you whispered slightly against her lips before giving her a quick peck. 

You could see her fighting with herself before she said yes, the cockiness you felt early making its reappearance. You smirked as you pulled away from her, your hands grabbing hers just as the bathroom door opened and two strangers walked in, completely ignoring the two of you. 

You dropped Steph’s hand the closer you got to your table before explaining that Steph wasn’t feeling well so you offered to take her home since she rode with Beth and Viv. You quickly told everyone goodnight before you headed for the door, Steph’s hand back in yours when you were out of range of your teammates. 

Excitement filled your body as you made your way to your car and opened the door for Steph. The defender gave you a quick peck as a thank you before you closed the door for her. The short drive back to your place was quiet, but this time it wasn’t filled with strong tension. Once you had parked, you were quick to open Steph’s door, offering her a hand as you helped her out of the car.

You wasted no time before you made your inside, quickly throwing your jacket and taking your shoes off. Steph followed you and as she was done, her back was pressed against your front door and your lips were on her neck. “Fuck,” she mumbled as her hand tangled in your hair as your lips left scattered kisses on her skin. You sucked hard on her skin, deep bruise-like marks soon to form. 

You pulled away from her neck, eyes locking with hers before kissing her again. This kiss was deeper than the one in the bathroom, your lips pressing against hers harshly as you held her against you tightly. With your lips intertwined, you guided her to your bedroom, having done something similar multiple times before. 

Her back was pressed against your soft mattress as you hovered over her, one of your hands holding her hip tightly. You pulled away from her slightly, the necklace you had worn dangling between the two of you. “Can you be a good girl and strip for me, hmm,” you mumbled as you pulled away from her completely. 

You moved off the bed as she sat up slightly, her breath labored as she watched you move the bottom drawer on your dresser. She shook her head slightly before she started stripping, her clothes falling to your floor. When you stood from where you crouched down, Steph was completely bare as she lay on your bed, one of her legs propped up as her chest heaved. 

Her eyes dropped the strap on in your hands as you made your way back to the bed, sitting the toy on the edge of the bed. Your eyes trailed over her naked form as you hurriedly removed your clothes, tossing them to join hers on your floor. Steph’s eyes dropped down your body as she let her eyes linger on your bare chest. You took your time harnessing the toy around your body, not wanting to rush anything between the two of you. 

You stood at the end of the bed as your eyes raked over her body before leaning forward to plant a small kiss on her calf that was propping her leg up. You trailed small kisses up her thigh, crawling forward as you did so. Steph moaned when you blew softly on her dripping cunt, your name falling from her lips as her hands held your comforter tightly. You laughed softly to yourself at how worked up she was when you had hardly done anything. 

You kneeled in over her, the strap on rubbing against her thigh softly. You pushed her propped-up leg down before pushing it open so her legs were stretched open for you. You moved slightly until you had the tip of the strap-on lined up with her soaked core before you pushed the toy into her. 

Steph’s moans grew louder the more you pushed into her until you bottomed out. You moved one of her thighs to wrap around your waist as you kept the other pressed open against the bed. You rolled your hips softly, letting her get used to the size again. Steph’s head fell back against your pillows as your hips moved, her jaw slack as small moans escaped her lips.

“Faster, please,” Steph begged, her fists white as her grip on your cover never let up. Her back arched slightly as you sped up your movements. 

Your hips snapped against her skin loudly as you fucked her, your tight grip on her body sending shock waves through her. Your name fell from her lips in a broken chant as you roughly thrust into her, lewd sounds echoing off your bedroom walls. 

“D’you like that baby,” your voice was rough as you moved the hand that was holding her waist to press softly on her lower stomach. 

“Fuck.. yes, yes!,” she managed to moan in between whines as you hit the familiar spot inside her. 

Steph’s hips rolled in time with your thrusts, her back arching more off your bed as she grew closer to the edge. You could hear just how wet she was as you fucked her, the loud sounds of your strap fucking her mixed with her moans had your head spinning. 

You sped up your movements even more, pushing her leg that was around your waist open to fuck her at a slightly different angle. Steph gasped a the new feeling as her eyes screwed shut, not far from letting go. “You gonna be a good girl and cum for me, baby,” you husked, your own orgasm close.

“Yes! I’m a good girl,” the defender whined as you moved one hand to rub her hardened clit. Steph didn’t last long after that as she let go making a mess all over your strap as she came. You didn’t slow down as you continued to fuck her, helping her ride out her high. 

You slowed your movements when Steph whined at the overstimulation and you slowly pulled out of her. She whined at the loss of contact as you undid the harness around your body, tossing the toy to the floor. You let go of her leg, chuckling softly when it fell to bed immediately. You moved up her body to give her a deep kiss, one of your hands running up and down her body to help her calm down.

“You good, baby,” you mumbled in between small kisses. 

Steph took a deep breath before nodding, still slightly out of breath. You smirked to yourself at her fucked out state before placing more kisses along her collarbones. After a minute, Steph had gotten control over her breathing and suddenly you were on your back, Steph straddling your thigh. You both moaned at the contact, the defender’s breath stuttering before she was good again.

“It’s your turn, y/n/n,” she mumbled as one of her fingers traced your hip bone.

Your breath faltered slightly as she traced closer to your wet core. After fucking her, it wouldn’t take much before you came as well. Two of Steph’s fingers ran through your slick folds, earning a low moan from you in the process. Without warning, her fingers were thrusting into you. You threw your head back in pleasure, your jaw falling as low moans fell from your mouth.

The sight of you in pleasure with her fingers pumping in and out of you was driving Steph crazy. As her fingers moved inside you, her hips rolled against your thigh, chasing another orgasm. Steph’s breathing was labored as she fuck you and herself, both of your moans mixed as you both chased that toe-curling feeling. Steph braced herself on your hip as she sped up her fingers, her hips following suit. 

“I’m so close, baby. Be a good girl and make me cum, please,” you grunted, your back arching off the bed slightly. One of your hands moved to hold her waist as she listened to your words.

You flexed your thigh just as you let go, earning a loud moan from Steph as she came for the second time that night. Her fingers paused inside you as her eyes fell shut in pleasure. Both of your chests heaved as you came down from your high. Steph pulled her fingers from you, your eyes flying open at the loss of contact. 

Your eyes locked with hers as she brought her two fingers to her mouth, the defender loudly moaning at the taste of you on her fingers. Your mouth fell open slightly as you watched her lick her fingers clean, your grip on her waist tightening as the sounds she was making. Steph pulled her fingers from her mouth with a small “pop” and moved to lay next to you. 

You both lay there staring at each other as you finally catch your breath. Your eyes trace over her face, taking every part of her features in before your eyes lock with hers. “Old habits die hard sometimes,” you joked, trying to keep the mood light.

Steph chuckled softly at your words before propping her head on her hand, her eyes filled with a look you had only seen once. “Don’t say it,” you mumbled, not wanting the mood to be broken just yet. 

Steph sighed softly before finding the art piece on your way much more interesting. “This shouldn’t have happened,” she muttered after a minute of silence.

“Because of him,” you asked, even though you knew the answer.

Steph swallowed softly before nodding which earned an eye roll from you. “Tell me you genuinely like him and I’ll agree, but otherwise it looks like you don’t really like him if you’re here with me,” you scoffed as you sat up slightly.

Steph moved to mirror your position, her fingers fiddling with each other as she thought about what to say. The defender took a deep breath before her eyes locked with yours again, this time small tears welled up in the corner of her eyes.

“I love you,” she started, her eyes widening slightly as if she couldn’t believe she said that. “I love you and that scares me. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else, certainly not him. I thought this was just a fun hook-up for you and I was too scared to ever say anything because I didn’t want to lose you,” Steph finished as she blinked rapidly to hold her tears in.

You didn’t say anything for a moment as you processed her words and your silence had Steph doubting everything she had just said. Steph licked her lips as more tears welled in her eyes before you chuckled. Your chuckle turned into a loud laugh as you shook your head.

Steph’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as she waited for you to explain. “You thought I didn’t feel the same way? Damn, I must suck at giving signals,” you joked as you made eye contact with her again. 

“Steph, I think I’ve been in love with you from the moment we first met,” you confessed as you looked at her, she could see the truth in your eyes as you spoke. “I never knew how to tell you and then we hooked up after winning some game and I thought maybe you felt the same way but the next day you acted like nothing happened,” you continued, recounting the first time you ever slept together. 

“But then we kept hooking up and I didn’t want to mess anything up so I never said anything. And then you ended and wouldn’t talk to me,” you finished, not wanting to go further about how jealous you felt about the man she was currently seeing. 

Steph took in everything you said, realizing how much suffering you two could have avoided had you just communicated. “We suck at communication,” the Aussie joked as she slid closer to you, one of her hands moving to cup your cheek.

You turned slightly, pressing further into her touch as you laughed softly at her words. Her thumb ran across your bottom lip before she pressed her lips to yours. This kiss was softer than any kiss you ever shared, more love than lust behind it as you wrapped your hand around her wrist. Steph pulled away first, her forehead resting on yours as she kept her eyes closed.

“I need to call him,” she muttered, an irritated groan following her words.

“In the morning,” you cooed, “for now, I wanna make you feel better than he ever could,” you husked as you pushed her back into a laying position. 

You spent the rest of the night pleasuring each other, a new feeling behind every action now that you both had your feelings out there. You two might have sucked at communicating how you felt before, but now, you wouldn’t make the same mistake. Once Steph broke up with her boyfriend, the two of you could pursue an actual relationship that didn’t equate to just sex.

[redstarwriting]

the clash | v. ever fallen in love

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 3.1k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie, mentions of death, demonic names, mentions of injuries, giving and receiving stitches, geniuses being dumbasses

a/n: these keep getting longer LMAO which is wild too bc i literally had an idea to make this chapter even longer, but i had to end up splitting it up. thank you to everyone who’s reading the series, i appreciate you all more than you will ever know. please enjoy this chapter, the next should be out either late tonight or tomorrow :)

previous chapter: iv. london calling

now reading: v. ever fallen in love

next chapter: vi. (with someone you shouldn’t’ve)

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It’s been a few months since you’ve become a part of Spider Society, and much to everyone’s disappointment, you and Hobie still hate each other. Even though on any given day the two of you will be seen around each other, you’re always arguing. Yelling. There have been multiple times where the two of you almost fought, but someone always breaks it up before it gets to that point. “Ready to go, Hobie?” Gwen asks, and he scoffs. “Can’t believe ‘m bein’ forced to go to that dickhead’s world by you of all people,” he grumbles, and she rolls her eyes. “C’mon man, we all know that you’ve both been way more irritable towards everyone because you haven’t seen each other in what? Like two days?”

“I’ll be a lot worse when I see them, I can promise ya that, mate,” he snaps and Miles shakes his head. “Yeah, sure. Whatever, Hobie,” he says as Gwen pulls up the portal to your world. “Are you excited to see them? I haven’t seen you two apart for this long ever, you’re always together,” Pavitr says, side-eying Hobie. He keeps trying to tell Gwen and Miles the two of you only hate each other because you have strong feelings for one another and don’t know how to face them.

“I’m telling you, they’re obsessed with each other,” Pavitr says as he, Gwen, and Miles sit in his home, sipping some chai. “Obsessed with wanting to kill each other maybe, but that’s about it,” Miles says, and Pavitr groans. “No! You’ve got it all wrong! Neither of them knows how to express their feelings and that’s the only reason they act the way they do!” he tries to convince them, but Gwen and Miles just glance at each other. “I don’t know, Pav,” Gwen says. “I picked up on the romantic tension between the two of you immediately, why are you doubting my genius social cue reading now?”

“You need to stop being such a romantic, Pav. The two of them would rather eat glass than be romantically involved in any way,” Gwen responded, but Pavitr was not convinced.

He still isn’t. Hobie laughs. “Excited? You must be mental to think I’d be chuffed to see them,” he responds, and Pavitr sighs. One day. One day he will get Hobie to admit he cares for you.

Gwen was honestly a little nervous for this little meet-up. The two of you had a really bad fight recently, and trying to get the two of you back to talking level seems a little ambitious.

“You what?” he yelled, causing you to roll your eyes. “I’m being mentored by Miguel.” Hobie stares at you, not saying anything, with his mouth slightly open before he shakes his head. He’s very angry, but you simply don’t care. “He’s helping me, Hobie. We both have the venomous bite thing, so he’s trying to help me out with it and helping me adjust to–”

“Don’t you dare say adjust to fuckin’ Spider Society like I ain’t been here the whole time.”

“You never necessarily helped, Hobie. Unless you count constantly insulting me and–”

“Nah, don’t gimme that fuckin’ rubbish, (Y/n),” he growls, and you cross your arms. “Why are you so mad about it anyway?” He laughs. “Why am I mad? Seriously?! You’re the right fuckin’ hand of the pitch and toss!”

“The what?” you ask and he groans. “The fuckin’ boss, (Y/n)! The man!”

“So what, Hobart?! In case you forgot you’re a part of this society, you listen to Miguel too!”

“I fuckin’ don’t!”

“You fucking do!” By this point, you’d pulled attention from several other spiders, not only because of the yelling but because their senses were going off. The two of you were too focused on each other to realize they were all ready to pounce on the two of you. “Fuckin’ piss off before I do somethin’ we both regret,” he growls, and you laugh. “Make me.”

The two of you were separated after that and haven’t talked to each other since. Granted, it’s only been two days, but that is long for the two of you, honestly. And it’s been making everyone a target of Hobie’s rude remarks and your cynicism. The two of you need to talk because clearly, not talking just makes the two of you feel worse.

Even though Hobie’s acting like this is the worst thing his friends could possibly do to him, he does kind of sort of miss you. Which he hates. It’s been two days and he’s already missing you? Disgusting. He can’t wait to yell at you about it. He’s able to keep his cool and pretend like he really doesn’t want to go, but in reality, he’s so anxious to see you. “Alright, come on,” Gwen says, motioning for Hobie to enter the portal. He glances around at them. “Makin’ me go first?”

“Can’t have you run off at the last minute,” Gwen says and he sighs. “Whatever,” he says, walking a little too fast into the portal. He only stops when he’s enveloped in a familiar darkness. He feels something brush up against his leg, and he lets go of a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “Good seein’ ya, Shadow,” he says, bending down to give your cat some attention. Shadow headbutts him and he scratches between his ears. Your cat loves Hobie, much to your disdain.

“You hurt him, I kill you,” you said to him the second time he was at your place. He picked up Shadow while you were in your room, and when you came out and saw him holding your baby, you were ready to fight. But you were ready to fight him at any given moment anyways. “I won’t hurt him. He’s much cooler than his owner anyways,” Hobie says, petting his head. You roll your eyes. “Yeah well– wait is he purring?” you say, and Hobie smirks at you. “Looks like he likes me better than his owner too.”

“Shut the fuck up. Shadow!” you call your cat, your voice going from a tone that screams ‘I hate you’ to one that screams ‘I love you.’ Of course, Shadow’s ears perk up and he hops out of Hobie’s arms and right over to yours. You stick your tongue out at Hobie, who rolls his eyes and looks away to cover up the dusting of a smile on his face. “What are you, 12?” he asks, and you scoff. “Can I hold Shadow?” Pavitr asks, and you hand him to him without a second thought. But no matter who you passed him to, he’d either end up in yours or Hobie’s lap.

He's so lost in the memory that he doesn’t even sense you approaching. “So, you decided to actually show up. I’m surprised,” he hears your voice and looks up at you. “Wasn’t exactly by choice, love. If I had it my way, I’d never be in this hellhole again,” he retorts, and you just shake your head and say nothing. That’s strange. You thought for sure you would mention something about him being forced to do something even though he always does what he wants. “What? Have you lost your spitfire after only two days of not talkin’ to me?” he asks, standing. You sigh. “I just… I don’t have the energy to fight today, Hobie. Okay?”

Don’t have the energy? You literally always have the energy to fight with him. Before he can say anything else, Pavitr comes through the portal.

“(Y/n)! How have you been?” he asks, excitedly, hugging you. Hobie doesn’t like that. But what he doesn’t like even more is the slight look of pain that spreads across your face for a split second. He observes silently as you play it off like nothing happened, and Pavitr is none the wiser to it. Gwen and Miles enter shortly after, and the dynamic you all had before yours and Hobie’s attempted murder of each other returns. Except for the constant bickering between you and Hobie. Instead, it’s just a lot of silent glaring, and subtle reactions. “Okay, hold on. What the hell is this?” Miles asks, and you both look at him. “What?” you say at the same time, ending in a side eye to each other. “That! That right there, why aren’t you two threatening to tear each other’s heads off because you said the same thing?” Miles asks, and Hobie shrugs. “I got nothin’ to say to them.”

“Ditto,” you say, and the three of them look at you two like your heads just got cut off. “Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m havin’ a laugh, mate?” Hobie snaps at Miles and he puts his hands up in surrender. “This… is odd. I can’t recall the last time it was quiet between you two.”

“Because it never was. They always went for each other’s throats like their own lives depended on it,” Pavitr says to Gwen, and you clear your throat. “We’re right here, you know,” you say with a forced grin. “Yeah, care to save the talkin’ bout us til we aren’t around?” Hobie grumbles and the three glance at each other before nodding. “Sorry, you two…” Gwen says, and you shrug. “It’s whatever. Dealt with worse,” you say, and Hobie nods. He glances over at you again. How is no one else noticing how weird you’re acting? Is he the only one who pays attention to you or some shit?

This isn’t the first time he’s picked up on your odd behaviors. Within the time he knew you, he was able to notice your behaviors unlike anyone else.

He wasn’t necessarily looking for you. He’d never go out of his way to look for you in a million years, yet here he was. In your world because you didn’t show up at the allotted time everyone was gonna meet up at in his world. He webbed up to the tallest building, the Ember Stake Building. It resembled that of a wooden stake, except all black and metal instead of wood. Sure enough, you were there. “You’re late.”

You turn and look at him, but don’t say anything. Instead, you just turn away. He frowns. “What’s that all about, then?” he asks, plopping next to you. You sigh. “I think I’m just gonna stay here tonight.”

“What? Why? Because you’re too borin’ to do anythin’ fun? Gotta work late tonight?”

“No. Personal reasons,” you say and he cocks his head to the side. “Such as?”

“Fuck off, Hobie. I’m not telling you.”

“Yes, you are. What’s goin’ on in that empty head of yours?” he asks and you give him an unamused look. “It’s the anniversary of my Uncle Belial’s death,” you mumble. He frowns. “Ah. I see.”

“...Yeah.” The two of you sit in silence, the wind the only noise happening before he sighs. “Well then, you’re definitely comin’ tonight.” He stands. You look at him. “I just said-”

“And I don’t give a shit. Come on, your friends are waitin’ for you. Besides, they can help ya get your mind off of it. Chop-chop.” You ended up going because you were forced to. But you did have a good time. Hobie was right, it helped you get your mind off of things. And maybe you were reading into it, but he seemed just a tad bit nicer to you that night than normal.

And you could tell his. 

“And what the hell is your problem today?” you appear behind Hobie who is angrily restringing his guitar in his common room at Spider Society. “Well now you’re a part of it,” he responds. You sit on the floor across from him. “As much as I’m happy just my presence can reduce you to a massive asshole, I don’t think I’m the only reason this time.”

“How could you even tell?”

You shrug. “You busy your mind and hands when you’ve got something on your mind,” you say, and he looks at you. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Didn’t realize you were obsessed with me.”

“You wish,” you say. He sighs. “New group of fascist assholes showed up today,” he begrudgingly opens up and you nod. “Told you so.” He glares at you. “Had to say it,” you say, “But you’ll beat them. You always do.” He glances at you. “And if you can’t, I’ll just take care of it for you.” He laughs, unamused. “I’d like to see you try.”

He’s unsure why so many memories are flooding back to him at this moment in time. The answer is that he’s obsessed with you and Pavitr is right, but we don’t need to talk about that until he realizes it for himself. Maybe not seeing you has made him think about you more for some reason. He shakes his head, rejoining the conversation. Everything goes surprisingly well for the rest of the time you all are together. Unfortunately, Gwen gets a notice that something is happening in her world, and she has to go. Miles follows, and Pavitr is torn between going with them or staying with the two of you to make sure no one gets murdered. Or to see some romantic shit.

“We been behavin’, haven’t we?” Hobie says, a bit relieved they were leaving so he could find out what was up with you. You were close with the others, but even they’ve commented on you two only opening up with each other. “You actually have… and maybe it’d be good to leave them alone. Talk out whatever issues they’re having,” Miles says to Pavitr and Gwen, who look at each other but reluctantly agree. Miles and Pav rush into Gwen’s world before her. “I swear if you two kill each other I’m going to kill both of you,” Gwen says, walking backward into the portal to her world and pointing at the two of you. “We won’t.”

“Probably,” Hobie finishes, and Gwen rolls her eyes before disappearing. There’s a silent tension between the two of you before he speaks up. “What happened?”

“I don’t know what you’re–”

“Don’t play dumb with me, now. What happened?” he pushes, and you frown at him. Shadow leaps up into your lap and nuzzles you. You sigh and gently pet him. Hobie stays silent, watching and waiting. “Just… bad day,” you mumble. “Bad day, how?”

“Bad spider day.” He hums. “That why you looked like Pav stabbed ya after that hug?” You look at him, surprised. “You saw that?”

“Course I did. ‘m not fuckin’ daft,” he responds, and you look at Shadow. “Yeah… it’s nothing, though. Just a few scratches, typical Spider-Person shit,” you say, and he nods. “Let me see, then.”

“What?”

“Let me see.”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re lyin’,” he shrugs, and you glare at him. “Have I told you I hated you?”

“Not recently, but yeah.” You glare at him but sigh. “Fuck you, Hobie,” you mumble, but shrug off your oversized cardigan. His eyes widen as he sees deep lacerations and bruises spread across your shoulder and onto your back. He stands up and approaches you without even realizing it. You watch him as he studies your injuries. “Who did this?” His voice sounds darker than you’ve ever heard it. You look away from him. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” he responds immediately. You turn your head to look at him again, only to have him staring directly into your eyes. “Prowler,” you mumble, and he frowns. “The worst of the worst in your world,” he whispers to himself, recalling a conversation the two of you had months ago. He glances around. “Where’s your first aid kit?” he asks, and you look at him with a side-eye. “Why?”

“Cause I wanna get high off the painkillers in it, why do you think, you dolt?” he snaps, and you point to your bathroom. “Under the sink.” He gets up and walks into your bathroom, grabs the first aid kit, and walks back out to you on your couch. “Turn round and move a bit,” he says, and you do. He sits behind you, starting to clean and stitch to your injuries up. You wince slightly and he frowns. “Why haven’t you done this yet?”

“I can’t reach back there myself.”

“Then ask someone else to do it.”

“I don’t have anyone to ask anymore.”

“Yes, you do,” he says without missing a beat. You turn your head to say something snarky to him, but he looks at you at the same time. Your faces are closer than the two of you expected, causing you both to quickly look away. You can feel your face burning, and you’re grateful the injuries are mainly on your back and not close to your heart because you don’t want to hear his comments about how fast it’s beating. On an equal note, Hobie’s happy you aren’t looking at him because he has his jaw clenched and swallows hard. His heart is beating just as fast, but he pretends like it’s nothing, just like you. He finishes the stitches, placing bandages over top of them. “Done,” he says, and you mutter a quick ‘thank you’ as he tosses the first aid kit onto your coffee table. “Should be healed by tomorrow,” you mumble, and he nods. “When did that happen?”

“A few hours before you all got here,” you admit, and he frowns. “And you were just gonna pretend nothing happened?”

“Yes. I told you earlier, I’m too tired to deal with any bullshit today, okay?” you confess, and he frowns.

“He get ya that good cause you’re tired?”

“I guess.”

“When’s the last time you slept?”

“Dunno.”

“Stop lyin’ love,” he says, and the nickname you hate oh so much sounds just a little sweeter to you than it should. “Couple days ago.”

“You haven’t slept in two days?” You shake your head, and he sighs. “Go the fuck to sleep. Now.”

“But–”

“Go,” he demands, pointing to your bedroom. You groan, “You’re so fucking annoying,” you mumble, getting up and dragging yourself to your room. “Yeah, yeah whatever,” he says, following you. You flop onto your bed as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Come to tuck me in?”

“You wish,” he watches as Shadow hops up onto your bed, curling up against you. You immediately put your hand on him and pet him. Hobie frowns as he feels a pang of annoyance toward your cat. “Gonna stand there and watch me sleep or something?” your voice pulls him out of his ridiculous thoughts, and he scoffs. “Gonna stand here and make sure you don’t try to get up as soon as I go,” he says, and you sigh. “Fine,” you mutter, rolling away from him. He stands there until he’s sure you’re asleep. He glances at Shadow, who is still awake and staring at him. He puts his finger to his lips to say “shh” as he pulls his mask over his head.

He and the Prowler of this world need to have a bit of a chat.

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[kaylopolis]

Alastor's Shadow (18+) Chapter Four

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months sooner than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. Afterall, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plans brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down, but also challenge your grab for power… 

Tags: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut 

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers, This chapter needed to happen to expand the plot. Don't worry, smut is coming soon - like next chapter soon! BTW this was written after episode 7 of Helluva Boss, Full Moon events have not yet happened.

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Four - The Meeting

Content Warning: none, but let me know if I missed any!

Husk said he didn’t think you liked surprises and boy was he right. 

Charlie screamed the second you entered the kitchen, thrusting a present box into your arms. You were pissed, having not slept, tossing and turning in the silence of the night. 

You really needed to find a radio - it’s music had lulled you to sleep in the past - but now you were hesitant. The radio was Alastor’s domain, and you didn’t know what kind of power the device would have now that he was back in Hell. 

It’s the same reason why you never got a cell phone - you didn’t want Vox tracking your whereabouts or having access to your video camera. It would be a lot easier to figure out who you were if you did. 

You used the new collection of syrups and powders to make real creations for the staff to enjoy. You had to admit, it was fun, and finally gave you a chance to make a jasmine latte to your liking - something you hadn’t had since your early days working at the cafe. 

Alastor was nowhere to be found. So he didn’t see the tension in your body as you ate breakfast. He didn’t see you slip out after Angel and Husk got into it over the news of the Porn Star’s employer - now officially revealed to be Valentino. He didn’t see you tiptoe to your room, lock the door, pull your leather armor and cloak from the Void and clean them before today’s meeting. 

You checked for his shadow of course, to see if he was watching, but for whatever reason, the darkness was still. 

Doning your black garb, you double checked the silver stitching around the hood of your cloak, ensuring the magic seal was still intact. A few loose strands caught your attention but nothing serious enough to disrupt the enchantment. 

Okay. You were going out. In broad daylight. To attend a meeting with the most powerful Overlords in Hell. 

What could go wrong? 

____________________________________________

“Ope! Ope! Ope! Ope!” 

You landed on the sidewalk in a pile of… eggs? 

They stopped their incessant noise making before turning to you, confused but intrigued by the smoke pooling at your feet. 

“Are you on fire?” 

“Why can’t we see your face?”

“You smell like jasmine.” 

“Can I touch your cloak?” 

Sir Pentious’ eggs. What were they doing here? 

You took the elevator to the penthouse - which was really weird. Normally you’d just fly to the top and take the terrace entrance in, but Carmilla Carmine was hosting and she had earned your respect. Not simply because she had invited you, but for the many things before. 

“...I’m sure you’ve all been wondering!” Alastor’s voice hits you at the same time as the static finds your skin. 

Fuck.

“Not really, but welcome back in any case.” You tried hard to hold back your snort as you rounded the corner, appearing at the entrance of the conference room. 

“Ah, you’ve made it,” Carmine gestures to you. 

All eyes flit to you, cementing you to the tile floor where you stood. You did your best to keep your eyes locked with Carmilla’s not wanting to send the wrong message with a wondering gaze. You weren’t here to challenge anyone, certainly not on your first day, you were here as a guest of Carmilla’s and to stake a claim to the seat which has been offered. 

They room falls silent before Zestial finally speaks up. “Tis this the infamous Shadow thou spoke of, Carmilla?” 

You bow your head to the Overlord - and you mean “The” Overlord for he was the first. You had never met him in person before, but you’ve heard of him. 

God, he was even more glorious in person. You could taste the power wafting off him from where you stood. 

“What the heck! What is he doing here?” Zeeze began to protest. 

The colors of her fur were wild enough to make you sick. 

“I invited him,” Carmilla answered dismissively as if it was obvious. Zeezee and a few of the other Overlords protested save for Rosie and Alastor. You didn’t dare turn to them, however, you couldn’t risk anyone in this room catching any hint of your relationship with the Queen of the Cannibals nor could you risk Alastor suspecting any familiarity. 

Fucking Alastor. You blocked out his gaze the most from your mind.  

“The Shadow has risen to power faster second to none other than Alastor himself.” She gestures to the Radio Demon whose eyes haven’t left your form. “He now holds enough souls to rival even your own count, Zeezee. He’s earned a spot at this table.” 

Ha. Fuck you. 

“This is the Shadow…” Rosie chimes in. “Ha! I thought he’d be taller.” She laughs from Alastor’s side. 

“Well then!” The Radio Demon’s smile reappeared, catching you off guard. It’s a really good thing they couldn’t see your hands shaking beneath the cloak. “Please, do take a seat!” He motioned with his microphone to a chair at the end of the table. A shadowed hand wrapped around the leg and pulled it out, inviting you to sit. Once the others saw Rosie and Alastor cave, they felt a bit more relaxed - not enough to drop their guard, however.  

Rosie’s eyes caught yours at the other end of the table. She gave you an imperceptibly small smile, fleeting so as not to attract too much attention. 

At least you had one ally in this room. 

“This year's Extermination was brutal, far more even than years past. We have assessed that about 16% of the population was lost,” a slide projector turns on behind her. “With the angelic legions now returning twice as quickly, I think it prudent we…” The door slams inwards, a loud-mouthed Velvette barging into the meeting. 

God, it was good that you needed to keep yourself composed here, otherwise you’d rip her head off and burn it to ashes. Every interaction you had with her just pushed the line more and more. 

She hangs up the phone, turning to grab the back of your chair and… “What in the Hell is this!?” Velvette motions to you sitting in the chair. “What is this piece of trash doing, sitting in my seat!?”

Smoke began pooling at your feet, angrily twisting about itself in waves. 

“Nice of you to join us, Velvette. Will your… colleagues be joining us?” Carmilla ignored her. 

“What? No, they have better shit to do than to listen to an old windbag who thinks she's tough shit. I'm here to represent or I would be if this wanker would get out of my seat.” 

You didn’t move an inch. Moving would be yielding power to Velvette and you couldn’t let that happen. 

“Velvette, let me introduce you to the Shadow,” Carmilla motioned to you. 

Her red sclera flit between you and the weapons-dealing Overlord. “Are you fucking kidding me? What kind of name is ‘Shadow’ anyway?” She snorted. “This is so going on my Sinstagram. I can’t… Oh!” The purple phone explodes in her hand. 

You didn’t do that… 

Alastor laughs from his chair, “Oh my, what a mess you’ve made.” Her phone lay in a heap on the ground, electrical sparks flying every which way. 

Her tan skin turned a beat red, “Listen here you cock-sucking…” Her hand phases through your cloak as she attempts to grab you. She stands stunned, staring at her hand as if she couldn’t believe it herself. 

It was a cheap trick, but oh-so satisfying when it happened. No one could take the cloak off of you. Not unless you were dead or they knew who you were. 

You loved old magic. 

Velvette stood shell-shocked and speechless. 

No one stood up for you. No one intervened. They were all just as curious to see what you would do next. 

With a snap of your fingers, you pulled a chair from the Void, surrounding the materialization process with blue flame - just for flare. It was a dingy chair, metal and worn - nothing compared to the grand plush ones set aside for the other guests. That, however, was intentional. Summoning the chair wasn’t giving in to her tantrum, it was an insult in and of itself.

“Thank you, Shadow,” Carmilla nodded to you. “So, as I was saying, we need to discuss…”

Velvette uses the chair as a stepping stool, shooting daggers with her eyes at your face. She steps before you, her feet on the table, blocking your view of the room. 

Bitch. 

“On the subject of discussion…” She throws the severed head of an Exorcist across the table.

Oh, here we go! A dead Exorcist - if that didn’t speed up your plans you didn’t know what would! 

You watched as Velvette launched herself into a - obviously rehearsed - speech regarding an assault plan on Heaven. 

Ha! Vox and Valentino sure had big balls if they think they can take the fight to them. On the other hand, you would love to see that happen. They’d be squished before they even made it to the gates, turned into a pile of recycled electronics and whatever the fuck moths had - feathers? 

You’d find some way to take Velvette down personally. Take her out in the chaos with an angelic blade and blame it on the Exorcists of Heaven. You wouldn’t have the credit for the kill of course but did you really need that to begin with? 

The only reason you were sitting here, showing the world a face, assigning a name to your killings was because of Rosie. She was the one to convince you to take hold of the power you so rightfully earned when you were adamant about staying in the shadows. 

You couldn’t lie to yourself, though; the power you had in sitting here, seeing Velvette’s face turn red, was worth it. 

“We know not how this perished. Mayhaps t'was not by a demon's hand at all. If we rush to war without knowing mightn't, they purge all of Hell for daring an uprising?” Zestial chimed in. 

You chuckled deep and low, earning a glare from Alastor. 

“Oh, I get it. So Grandpa is too pussy to fight, so I guess there's no point, right?” She jumps into the Overlord’s face. “Oh, what's the matter, Fossil? Too senile to make a real power grab for…”

“You better show some respect!” Carmilla interrupts Velvette. 

Ugh, Sinners were always so dramatic. This was like dealing with the Crimson Mafia but worse - they didn’t have some Gen Z spoiled brat to deal with. 

You took advantage of the distraction, using the time to study each of the Overlord’s without them knowing. Zeezee was a big… uh… Hell hound? Which didn’t make any sense since Hell hounds were Native born, but that was a mystery for a different day. 

The Von Eldritch representative was absent, but you’d never interacted with him before either. The unnamed Overlord sat to Zeezi’s right, silent and emotionless. Carmilla and her daughters you had already known for years. Zestial was… God, he was a dream. 

The Overlord dripped with power. You wondered, just out of curiosity and not actuality, what he would be like to fight. He seemed so elegant and refined, sitting there sipping his tea. Is his fighting style much of the same? Would he seduce you with his lethality? You had heard that lesser demons flee just upon the sight of him. What has he done to earn such respect? You wanted to know, you wanted to…

Static crawled its way up your spine, freezing your muscles and silencing your thoughts. You felt the air shift beneath your smoke - no, the shadows shift beneath your smoke. They were cold, like how a summer day’s temperature drops in the shade. You could feel them as they shifted beneath you, slithering against your robes.

Alastor. 

You looked up to find the Overlord peering down at you, both hands crossed, his chin resting in his palms. His eyes were half-lidded as they raked over your cloaked form, like he was analyzing you, like he could see straight through the smoke and shadows to you underneath. It made you feel vulnerable. It made you feel weak. 

You met his gaze, not letting his intimidation show. You sensed curiosity from the Overlord. Sniffing, you tried again to smell his emotion, but the room was filled with the iritation wafting off of Velvette and Carmilla - cinnamon. Ugh, you hated cinnamon. 

Your eyes narrowed at the red demon, hoping he moves his gaze, but when he doesn’t relent you decide to repay his stare with a wandering set of eyes of your own. 

He was lean, yet built - his broad chest forming an upside down triangle disappearing into a slim waist line. Donning one of his well-pressed suits and matching slacks. His sense of style was impeccable you had to give him that - but of course, Rosie dressed him and you loved everything she made. Even if she forced you into a dress. He wore gloves - he always wore gloves - but his hands though…

Images of his claws scraping across your cheek and down your skin come flooding back. A shiver runs through your core at the memory of his touch on your neck, the way he licked his lips at the sight of the blood pumping through your veins. Alastor turned ravenous at the thought of tasting you. Fucking cannibals. 

But the way you moaned? God, how embarrassing. You had never made a sound like that in your life. Where had it come from? Why had it happened? 

And why did you like it?

Why did you want him to squeeze harder, to drag your lips to his…

Stop! 

Your face heated at the thought. Alarmed, you pulled your gaze back into your lap, earning a small chuckle from the Radio Demon. 

Where the fuck did that come from!? Get your shit together! You’re supposed to be a badass Overlord in a very important meeting right now. There was no space for thoughts of Alastor and… NO. NOPE. NOT GOING THERE.  

Of course such a devious man would be so enticing! It’s probably how he claimed his victims up top. Get them to like him and smile at them. Maybe he flirted and twirled their hair, before taking their hand and luring them into the dark forest with promises of… NO! STOP IT!

Jesus Christ, it was a really good thing no one could see your face right now. 

Velvette suddenly appeared, her nose mere inches from yours, “This isn’t fucking over!” She jumped to the ground, kicking the chair you pulled from the Void into the wall. “Safe travels back to the nursing home, fuckers! Kiss my ass!” She flipped you all off on her way out. 

It was silent for a beat before Alastor chimed, “That was a productive meeting!” 

What part of that was productive? 

The Overlords all got up from their chairs and headed for the exit, you follow suit, a little saddened at the fact that this meeting went nowhere. You had such high hopes the moment Velvette pulled out the severed head. Ugh, guess you were going to have to continue with Plan A. 

“Shadow,” Carmilla called. Her and her daughters hadn’t yet moved from their spots. “May I call on you later?” Zestial stood next to her, finishing his tea. 

You nodded before…

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.” Alastor stepped into your path, his hand outstretched. “Alastor, pleasure to meet you.”

Your palm was far, far smaller in his grip than you had expected. If his hands were this big then did that mean his…

You stifle a cough, hoping he doesn’t notice. “Charmed.”

His eyes narrow. 

Oh, he noticed. 

“May I interest you in a drink? I see it impertinent to get to know someone such as yourself as we may be able to… benefit one another.” The edges of his smile curled. It made your stomach bubble with anxiety - not the same feelings as butterflies, you should point out. 

Your eyes drifted back to the room, finding Rosie absent. You knew Alastor was going to pay an interest in the Shadow once he was made aware of your presence. You had risen to power just as fast as he had - how could he not pay attention to you? You just didn’t expect it right off the bat. 

“Alastor is a respectable man,” Carmilla jumps in. “He can be trusted” Her eyes weighed heavily on you. She was throwing you a bone, trying to tell you what to do in this situation. 

Alastor respected only those who respected him. Insult him and he will show you no kindness -  Vox being the prime example. You weren’t prepared to take him on just yet, and if he ever found out who you really were, it would completely derail your plans. Besides, if you shut the door now, there was no telling if or when it was going to open again. Remember what you had decided last night at the bar: get to know the Radio Demon, throw him off the scent. 

Pulling the obsidian calling card from your breast pocket, you held it out to him. “A drop of scarlet beneath night’s mistress.” 

A drop of scarlet: blood. The night’s mistress: darkness. Anyone in possession of an obsidian calling card merely had to drip a single drop of their blood atop the card. That drop of blood was the tie in you needed to begin a deal with whomever summoned you. 

Only certain people carried those cards, those who you had bestowed the gift upon. Only once had a card fallen into the wrong hands - and ONLY once. You would never let that happen again. Which was why, from here on out, you needed to be picky with whom you entrusted these to. You didn’t know if you could trust the Radio Demon, but again you couldn’t let this door close. 

“Oh! How ominous.” He slipped the card into his jacket pocket as you exited the conference room, doing your best to ignore the pinpoint glare on the back of your head and the demon who held it. 

____________________________________________

SLAM! Velvette kicks the door open, stomping her way into Vox’s office. “That cock-sucking bastard! Who the fuck does he think he is!?” 

Vox rolled his eyes, continuing to click away on the computer monitor, “No, please Velvette come right in.” 

The brat demon slumped into a chair, her boots kicking up on the desk’s top. The female Vee reclined in the chair, a look of pure anger on her face. “He sat in my seat. My seat! And insulted me right in front of the Overlords of Hell!” 

“Uh-huh,” Vox feigned interest, continuing to click away. 

“And the Old-ass Hag let him! They all just sat there and let him! Where was the fucking respect!?” The Vee jumped to her feet, a thumb jabbed into her chest. “I’m Velvette - the Velvette. I’m a fucking Overlord! He’s just a glorified bed sheet with an attitude!” 

“Yeah,” Vox switched to a different browser - still not listening.

“He’s dead.” Velvette declared, climbing onto the desk. “He’s fucking dead the next time I see him.”

“That sounds nice,” Vox mindlessly added. 

“That sounds nice? What… What the fuck are you doin’?” The female Vee reached down and spun the monitor around. 

A thousand tabs were open, each containing different social media page profiles, image searches, or links to various surveillance cameras around town. 

Velvette shot the media demon a dumb look. “This is why you had to skip the meeting!? You’re still lookin’ for that girl, aren’t you?” 

“What?” Vox pretended to look offended. “No! I’m not… I mean… Why would I…?” His words trailed off at the sight of Velvette’s irritated face. “Maybe.”

Velvette rolled her eyes. “Give me your phone,” she held out her hand. 

“Use your own phone!” The media demon snapped.

Velvette’s glare turned lethal. “You do not want to mess with me today, princess. Give me the goddamn phone!” 

Vox knew better than to argue with the female Vee when she was in a mood. 

Handing over the device, he watched as she clicked across various different media sites before she paused on one in particular. All in all she took about three minutes total of searching before she turned the device around.

And there you were. Hidden amongst a million photos of bugs and random blurry pictures of red ceilings and floors was you in Angel’s arms. 

“How the Hell…” Vox reached for his phone, staring dumbfounded at the photo.

Velvette smirked, a wicked gleam in her eye, “Guess where your mysterious Alley Girl is staying…” 

Vox read the page name, his one eye blinking red with rage, “Alastor…”

____________________________________________

“The Vees are going to be a problem,” Carmilla pondered, one hand wrapped around her chin. 

“I agree,” you growled from your place atop the terrace. The night was colder than expected - perhaps an ominous omen of what was to come. 

“What do you suggest, Mother?” Odette chimed from the chair. Her sister silent and still as always. 

“I suggest we do nothing,” she shrugged, “but wait and watch. If the Vees want to take up arms against the Angels they will not do so alone. We need to ensure that they stay alone.” At that, she eyed you. 

You knew what that meant - a lot of fucking nights at the V Tower listening to a whole lot of nothing. She needed you to play spy. Carmilla would do her part, of course, watching and learning using her own set of spies - she wasn’t one of the most powerful Overlords in Hell for her weapons business alone. 

You stood there and waited for her to name her price. Watching the Vees was in her best interest - not yours. She didn’t know that, but she knew you disliked them so and she knew your services weren’t free. They were never free. Finally, she laid down a number. You weren’t happy with it, but you also owed Carmilla for your seat at the table. Thus, you wouldn’t complain. 

Turning, you headed for the edge of the balcony, preparing to jump before she stopped you again. “I feel the need to explain myself.”

You had another place to be tonight and, of course, you were already late. 

You don’t turn back to her, expecting this to be brief. 

“My girls and I have known you from the beginning,” Carmilla began. From the corner of your eye, you watch Odette and Clara’s eyes grow big. “And although you don’t trust me anymore, know this. I do not do the things I do for you because of who you are, but because of who you have made yourself into.” 

Images of Clara’s blood and Carmilla’s screams fill your vision. You shake the memory away. 

“The last thing I wish to see is you harmed.” Her voice breaks. “I. Am. Sorry.”

Your eyes flit to Clara, yet the girl didn’t meet your gaze, guilt held in her tight-lipped mouth. 

You knew how sorry she was. You knew. 

You take off into the night. 

____________________________________________

From the shadows of the I.M.P office rose a figure clad in red. 

The imp working the desk jumped in shock, spewing coffee over the papers on his desk. “Holy shit! Mr. Radio… The Radio… Over… Demon Lord…”

“Alastor, is fine. Pleasure,” the demon smiled, his teeth and eyes practically glowing in the night. 

“Moxie! Millie! Fuck! Get in here!” He screamed at the door, sprinting to the otherside of the desk to pull out a chair. The wooden seat shoke in his arms, clacking against the floorboards. Even the Natives were afraid of him, it seemed. 

Two smaller imps burst through, but jumped back at the sight of the Overlord seated in front of Blitz’s desk. 

“The… The… Radio… De… Demon…” Moxie tried to speak from behind the cover of his darling wife, but words would not agree with him.

“Yes, yes,” Alastor waved. “I believe we’ve covered that part already, haven’t we?”

Blitz pulled out about fifty pens, only one making it into his hand and the other fourty nine spewing onto the floor. He ripped a few pieces of paper before finally pulling one free and set about writing notes. “What can we do ya’ for, your Overlordness?” He gave an awkward laugh, his elbow tipping the cup of coffee over on his desk. “Shit. Fuck. Shit. Moxie get me a towel!”

The lesser imp and his wife disappeared from the room. 

“I need you to find someone for me,” Alastor purred, his hands resting atop his microphone. 

“Find someone… We don’t really do…” As Blitz talked, the green glare of Alastor’s aura began to fill the room. 

Blitz swallowed dryly, trying to think. “Yeah, Oh… Okay we can find someone for you. What’s their name?”

“I don’t know,” Alastor’s smile strained. He didn’t like not having the upper hand in any situation. Part of the reason why he was here, he needed more information. He needed leverage, just in case. 

“You don’t know…” Blitz rose an eyebrow. 

“What’s a hound got to do to get some sleep around…” A female Hellhound turned the corner, coming eye to eye with Alastor before slinking away, whining as she went. 

“No, I do not know, for they are already dead and do not go by their Christian name,” Alastor continued. 

“Already dead… What the fuck are you here for? We kill alive people.” Blitz was now thoroughly confused, but Alastor was having none of that. 

“I want information on who and what they did when they were alive,” His smile was strained against his teeth. His patience was being tested. 

“Why?” The imp asked. 

Wrong thing to say. 

“Oooooh, shit,” Blitz jumped behind his desk to shield himself from the growing mass that was Alastor’s demon form. “Okay! Okay!” The imp caved. “We’ll do whatever you want! We just need a name! Shit. Somewhere to start, at least!?” 

The Radio Demon shrank back, finally happy to hear some progress. It was getting harder and harder to contain his anger lately. 

“She goes by Thestral.”

-> Link to Chapter Five

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

[hell-drabbles]

Beleth 1

Summary: After a fight cut short with a random devil that thought you nothing more than a pest, you take a break outside the club. Beleth joins you and offers to have you bite into his skin to get the stress out.

(Fingers decided to write about Beleth instead. So I did. Here be the Companion biting Beleth! Also I just figured out that apparently Beleth and his king are fallen angels? I could be wrong but oh well. Here you go.)

There was this… specific closeness you felt towards Beleth. An understanding, if you will.

Something, whenever you two end up alone in any sort of area, the air between you two never fails to remind you of those late night hours behind a bar club. Where you're all tired from the atmosphere, and just need a moment of quiet where you can recharge, and someone comes out to do the exact same thing.

A kinship. Yeah that's what it was. You felt a kinship towards Beleth, with both of you caring for someone that can barely take care of themselves.

It's why it didn't tick you off when Beleth walked into your break spot in the alleyway. He's another person that pays attention to Ra-on, certainly, but there was this lack of visible and verbal annoyance at your being. You're just another person, as far as he's concerned, and that's enough to keep your temper even.

While you sat on the ground, just taking in the sky, Beleth took up position near you, also looking up with you. He fished for his box of cigarettes and popped out one. He grabbed it with his lips, flicked open his lighter and lit it up. He took one deep breath in, then out.

From the corner of your eye, Beleth inclined his head towards you.

"Want one?" Beleth leaned down, tapping the open box against your shoulder.

To be quite honest, you were a little tempted to take a drag. It's been a long day, the battle before had tensions high and the devils inside the club wanted nothing more than to dance, drink and fuck the feelings away. And not only that, but you had just come out of a fight with a random devil that said, "Aren't you glad I got that pest off of you, Solomon?"

He got a full wine bottle to the face, and the ensuing noise got all the other devils riled up enough to beating at one another. Well, at least they're having fun, and you got to avoid facing the full brunt of that devil's strength. And having Ra-on skitter right behind you certainly helped in having him hold back. Your ribs are still throbbing, however. Damn devils and their damned power.

"Quite a fight you started in there. Everyone's rowdy, having the time of their lives I bet." Beleth said with a breath of smoke slowly trickling out of his lips.

"Mm-hmm," you replied, because what else are you supposed to say? Are you supposed to be proud of it? That you started yet another fight because you can't stand to let words slide?

"But hey, that anger of yours, it's going to get ya into a lot of trouble." Like you're already not in trouble? "I'm not complainin', I reckon it's something you need to do to stay sane, given how you are, but that doesn't mean it make you safe."

"…tell me something I don't know." You were hoping he wouldn't dive into that subject. You know it's reckless. You know you can't keep this up and rely on luck to save the day once again. But you're just too stubborn. Besides, you know that the minute you go lax is the day you'll lose Ra-on forever. This stubbornness is exactly why Ra-on's been learning to say no more and more often.

"I know you got injured somethin' fierce the other day. You're still walkin' like you have a stitch in your side. And that fight you got into? Can't say it's made you any better. It's got me worried, ya know? Especially since pain just makes you angrier."

You gave a sigh, right from the bottom of your lungs. First Ra-on--whom you were barely able to divert his attention--and now Beleth? And you're pretty sure that changing the subject won't work on him.

Alright. Fine.

"So, I should just shut up them? Is that what you're telling me, Beleth?" Are you supposed to shut your mouth forever? Swallow down all your pride and anger and just take it until the situation in Hell is solved?

"Get angry at me. I won't kiss and tell."

"…really?" That's his solution?

"Yeah. Yell and scream until your heart gives out. I'll listen to your howls any day of the week. Just say the word, I'll try and be there for you, Sugar."

"That's not gonna solve shit. Don't call me Sugar." You still have to shut your mouth and behave.

"Sorry there, but it's the best I've got. You're human, right? Just gather up all that anger, call me up, and give it to me in one go. And who knows? Maybe I'll take care of some of the problem devils that have been tying you up in knots? Besides, it's better than nothing, right?"

"Stay quiet." You're too tired, too burnt out for this.

"Alright, alright."

When silence settled between the both of you, you adjusted yourself, positioning in such a way that doesn't put pressure on your ribs.

"Hey, I wanna ask you a question." Beleth suddenly says, flicking ash on the ground with a relaxed curve to his back, smiling at you with a tilt to his head.

"Hmm, shoot." What does he want now?

"Wanna make out?" He popped open another button on his shirt, letting the flaps fall open as though to entice you into taking his offer.

"No." It didn't work.

Beleth shrugged, as though very much expecting it. "Hey, worth a try."

He didn't bother closing his shirt. Instead, he completely undid his buttons and untucked his shirt. Once he was done, he leaned against the wall you were sitting against, took a slow drag in, then breathed it out. The wind took the smoke away from you.

Beleth turned to you and smiled. He tapped one of the various bite marks on his arm. "Wanna sink your teeth into my skin, then? You can pick any place you want. Even," he parted his shirt, letting the rays of the dying sun hit his well bitten chest, "here. I know you won't hold back."

"…you're really bored aren't you?"

"Hey, can ya blame me for wantin' to fill up my time? Smokin' always gets me in a certain mood."

And he smokes all the damn time, so what does that say? You're both creatures of rather bad habits.

…besides you may as well get a bite in. You've been grinding your teeth anyway.

"…you know what, yeah, fine." You stood up and patted dirt off your pants. "Let me just drag a seat or something out here. I'll have you sitting on my lap for this."

The cigarette hung between Beleth's fingers as he exposed his neck, gazing up at the sky as you dug your hands into his thin waist. You smoothed your lips over the raised skin of his scar, just taking a moment to enjoy both the different textures and way Beleth's throat bobbed with his swallow.

"That's a talented pair of lips you got there," you can hear the smile in the way he wistfully sighed, "Ya really know how to rile a devil up, huh? Taking your sweet time with me like this. Didn't ya want just a bite?"

Beleth jumped in your lap when you took a small nip, then pulled back. You looked at him square in the eyes, at that lightly flushed face, parted lips, and small annoyed crease in his brows.

"I like messing with you." Plain and simple. Beleth, to the rest of the masses, was this unshakable fallen angel that can never be pushed into the territory of annoyance. Never bothered, no matter how chaos rains around him. A near endless patience that even stretches to you. You can take your time. You trust that something won't snap in him.

Beleth chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. His hand slid down the back of your neck and guided you to his.

"Careful there, Sugar. Language like that'll get ya--"

You opened your mouth and let your teeth bite.

Stones ground underneath Beleth's shoes as he curled his legs in, his grip sliding down to clutch the back of your shirt instead. The muscles underneath your tongue tightened, Beleth's bare chest shivered against your own, and he dropped his cigarette in favor of squeezing your knee.

"Haha--" Beleth tried to get a laugh out, but the next sinking of your teeth had that quickly die into a hiss. "When you bite you really--haa--bite."

It's nice, watching the blood trickle down from the open wounds, trailing down his heaving chest and getting absorbed into the band of his straining underwear.

"Mm-hmm, like you said, I don't hold back."

"Haha, and neither," Beleth grasped his shirt and ripped it into scrapes of cloth, leaving him bare before you, "do I."

[y13evie]

hi i love love your writing!! would you write a smut for james wilson from house? maybe reader is working on house's team, or just works at the hospital. slight age gap also if that's okay!

ty for writing it if you choose it!! <33

clear your mind

omg i am SO sorry for the wait, my dear. i hope you enjoy!!

tags: age gap, smut, fuckin on da job

the tension was consuming you. day and night, all you could think about was him. there have been countless nights where you touched yourself while creating fake scenarios of you two. but that’s irrelevant right now. you’re supposed to be helping your team figure out what may be wrong with your critical patient. house notices you aren’t concentrated.

“you. what’ve you got?”. he tilts his head at you. you know he was asking you on purpose, everything he did had reasoning. you think of something fast. and it’s obvious.

“appendicitis?”

“jesus. who gave you a medical degree? get out and clear your head, you need it.”

god he was harsh. but he was right. you nodded at your colleagues as house shooed you out. you scolded yourself for not separating your work and home life. it wasn’t your fault though. james was so smart, so handsome, so much older. it’s like he was asking to be swooned over.

to clear your head you decided to hang out with your favorite nurse before getting back to work. she knew the feelings you had for james and supported your slightly problematic crush. she nursed in the oncology department, so you treaded the waters to her office very carefully. due to your lack of attention to your surroundings, you managed to walk right into the very man you’re avoiding.

“oh, hi. i actually needed to talk to you about something if you have a moment”. he looked at you with those eyes. everyone might call you crazy but you swear that coworkers don’t look at each other the way he looks at you.

“i’m busy. bye”. you nudged past him, something unusual as it’s normal for you to be so bubbly around him.

you barge into your friend's office and immediately throw yourself onto her beanbag.

“i’m a failure”. your muffled voice dripping with drama. she peeled her eyes off of her reports to you. it was quite a humorous sight, your face in the bean bag as you kick your feet like a toddler.

“what happened this time, sis.”. she walks over to you and sits criss cross applesauce, waiting for you to spill. you prop your head up on your hands and begin your story from the moment house kicked you out and basically called you an idiot.

the way she bit her lip in an effort to stifle her laughter tells you she’s not taking your sob story very seriously.

“it’s not funny!” you huffed. now you really looked like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

that did it for her. she began to laugh a little.

“it’s so funny. you’re a mess, babe! i need you to pick yourself up and go get your old man.”. you could tell she’s serious but can’t help but giggle at ‘old man’. that’s something she always nagged you about.

you got yourself back onto your feet and decided she was right. it was probably the only way you could get those silly thoughts out of your head. you thanked your friend for helping you out and marched out of her office. just as you were about to reach the department of diagnostic medicine, you heard a familiar voice.

“hey. we need to talk now.”. you turned around and faced him. all the bravery in your heart melted as soon as you came face to face with james wilson.

“uhm..sure? what about?” you questioned. there was what felt like an endless pit in your stomach, you almost wanted to order an MRI. he instructed you to follow him to his office, which of course, you obeyed.

when you arrived at his office he let you walk in first, being sure to lock the door once you both were in. you began to toy with the stitching of your white coat. he sits at the edge of his desk, waiting for you to look up.

“what’s going on?” he questions you this time. you paused for a moment, trying to decipher what he’s trying to say.

“what?”

“the way you walked right past me today. what was that about?”. he pushes his question further, expecting an answer to your coldness.

your heart dropped once you understood what he meant. you looked at him with pleading eyes, scanning his face for how he’s feeling.

“i’ve had something on my mind. i’m really, really sorry. you’re the last person i want to ignore.”

“so you’re ignoring me?” you can tell he isn’t upset as a sly smile makes its way into his face. you roll your eyes as he beckons you to come a little closer.

“what’s on your mind?”. he knows how you feel. it’s painfully obvious. he just wants to hear you say it.

you claim it’s nothing and wave it off as stress, but he knows you’re lying. he knows you’re lying when you come even closer to him, positioning yourself right between his legs that are hanging off his desk. he knows you’re lying when you can’t help but stare at the way his pants are tightening around his crotch.

“you know how unprofessional this is, right? or do you just wanna feel me inside of you.”. you’re done with him teasing you. you shut him up by placing a soft kiss on lips, which then led to a makeout session that had his hands roaming your body. and you let him. the way you grind on him in desperation tells him everything he needs to know.

he allows you to face the desk, commanding you to take off your pants and lean over it. you do exactly as he says. james takes absolutely no time to plow into you. you were expecting him to be more gentle, but for some reason you were drunk on this feeling. the way his cock is hitting your most sensitive spots over, and over again is driving you mad.

“y’know how long i’ve wanted to do this? feel you around me just like this. i bet you wanted this too, huh.”. all you can do is pathetically nod your head and quietly sob into his desk. your cries did nothing but make him twitch inside of you, groans coming deep from within his throat.

you felt your back instinctively arch further as you feel your orgasm building up. just as you were about to come undone, he stopped. you gasp as he pulls out and just looks at you. you turn around and see him stroking his length. he gently grabs your face with his free hand and tilts it downwards. you knew what he wanted. and you wanted to make him feel good.

as you got down on your knees you made sure to replace his hand with your own, setting an absurdly slow pace. you swiped your thumb across the slit that was leaking beads of precum and placed your mouth onto his tip. you slowly bobbed up and down to get accustomed to his size, and then began to take him farther and farther. james gripped your hair tightly as a disorganized string of swears left his mouth.

“so good f’me baby, being such a good girl taking me like this”.

his praises encouraged you to work your mouth even faster. the way he whimpered and moaned out your name told you he was getting close. focusing on his tip while using your hand for the rest of his cock is what sent him over the edge. he thrusted into your mouth a few times to help ride out his high. you felt so proud of yourself for making such a mess of him.

james was overstimulated and tired, but he needed to make his girl feel good. he sat you back down onto his desk and instructed you to lean back. he was drooling at the sight of your pussy all open and wet for you. he wanted to go slow with you but god you looked so desperate. he got onto one of his knees and began ravaging you. your hands are kneading as his hair as he makes circles around your clit with his tongue. the sounds are lewd but neither of you care. he’s teasing your entrance with his curled fingers before plunging them into you. the feeling of him sucking your puffy clit with the sensation of hitting your sweet spot was so overwhelming. tears ran down your face as your orgasm comes crashing over you.

james allows you to calm yourself down before helping you put your outfit back in. he wishes he had the time to give you proper aftercare and praise you for how great you made him feel, but he can’t. instead he settles for leaving a mix of small and passionate kisses all over your face while murmuring sweet praises in between each breath. as you were reaching for the doorknob james asks you what you’ve been waiting to hear.

“hey, would you like to get dinner tonight?”

before “sneakily” exiting his office you throw him a thumbs up and sweet smile. god, you could get used to this.

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

chapter nine: truth, dare, spin bottles

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

PREVIOUS PART -- CHAPTER EIGHT: TWENTY STITCHES IN A HOSPITAL ROOM

warnings: language, self-deprecation, negative thought and talk, fatshaming (past experience, not Bucky), alcohol consumption, mentions of injuries inflicted in ch8

word count: 3.9k

Taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10 @blackwidownat2814 @blackbirdwitch22 @laughterafter  @blackhawkfanatic @mcira @bxckybxrnes24 @rachellovesloki @toffeacademia @bean-bean2000 @lana525 @selella

A/N: YAY this was an amazing chapter to write -- the last scene in this chapter was what I had in mind when I named this series! I love every single one of u who have reblogged, liked, commented. it means so much to me. also, the instance of fatshaming mentioned in this chapter is almost verbatim a very real experience that happened to me, so pls don't be horrible about it, its literal trauma I carry with me. anyways--enjoy! next chapter is the fluff filled, sexual tension at its peak, chapter that'll be the most coveted and awaited!

“Bucky!” You exclaim as quietly as you can, trying to not disturb Nat who’s just gotten some well earned sleep. The rest of the infirmary is empty, and you’re glad that means nobody is around to witness your incoming breakdown. The waterworks start again, flowing down your face in relief. He’s not dead, he’s not in a coma. He’s your Bucky and he’s safe and alive. 

“Hey doll, come on now. No need to cry, is there?” It kills him to watch you sob, and he raises a hand to brush those tears away, but winces. Something is restricting him, and then he looks down and remembers. The blood, the bullets, the metallic taste still coating his mouth.

“Yes there is! You almost died on me.” 

“How could I die when I have such a sweet woman trying her best to give me a praise kink?” He smiles then, and even though he looks tired as shit, you can tell he’s on the mend. The poison was potent but its effects were definitely reversible. 

You laugh at that, taking his vibranium hand that’s closest to you and pressing a kiss to it. “Well I had to stop you dying somehow. If I can turn you on, maybe you could focus on your raging boner instead of wanting to sleep, right?” You laugh again, wiping your tears as his hand cups your face, stroking your cheek in pure adoration.

“Did—Did I really have a boner, doll?”

“I’m not sure, love. I was a bit more focused on the gallons of blood you were losing.” His gaze travels down your form, and you know he’s checking for any injuries as you stroke the inside of his wrist in reassurance.

“I’m alright Buck.” Then he sees your hand, and the taste in his mouth sours as he remembers it’s origins.

“Your hand…I did that. I did that to you.” He retracts his hand, pulling himself away from you and into his most familiar mindset, where he’s convinced he’s a monster and a murderer. You have to pull him out again, you need him next to you.

“Bucky.” You keep your voice firm. “Bucky, no. You didn’t do this to me. It was necessary, the situation called for it. And I’m completely okay. I got it looked at, and it’s not that bad.”

“How many stitches?”

“Buck—.”

“How many stitches?” You can see him shake, horrified at what he’s done. But he hasn’t done anything wrong.

“Six.” His eyes water, and you try to wipe them away.

“No, don’t touch me. Doll, I hurt you, I’m a monster, please don’t touch me.” You know he’s not, you want to bring him back. Back to the Bucky you know, and love. Your heart aches at his words, knowing he’s depriving the both of you some much needed comfort.

“No, you’re not. Bucky, look at me. I love you. You’re my best friend. You were in pain, you needed to be stitched up, and based on the level of poisons in your system, you couldn’t have dealt with that level of pain, especially because of the antidote already kicking your ass. We didn’t have any towels or clean cloth for you, which is my fault, I should’ve checked it before we left. You’re not a monster, Buck. You never have been. You never will be, not to me. You’re not a monster.” His eyes soften and when you reach to dry his tears, he doesn’t stop you. All he needed was reassurance from you, and his resolve quickly crumbles.

You’re gentle, well aware of his vulnerability. You decide to change the topic, speaking in a much more hopeful voice.

“Once you’re better, me and Nat made plans for all of us to go out for drinks and celebrate, because we got what we needed. You did good, love. You just saved the entire nation from God knows what H— that organisation had up their sleeve. You’re a hero. Well, you always have been. But you’re a damn hero, Bucky, and I’m so damn proud of you.” He begins to sob and shake, and you hold his hand. “Would you like to go out with us?” He nods, and you smile.

“Come here, doll. You need to get some rest, you’ve been so busy tending to me, and crying.” He shuffles over with a smile, making room for you in his cot. And you can’t deny it, can’t deny the heavy exhaustion taking over your body at even the mention of sleep past his lips. “You’re my safe place, you know that? I couldn’t sleep a wink without knowing you were okay. I think this is why they don’t let us treat our loved ones back where I’m from. Because the sight of you broke me so bad I almost couldn’t do anything.” You curl into his side, eyes closing as one hand rests on his chest, the other tucked around your own middle. You head rests comfortably against where metal meets flesh, and you absentmindedly press a kiss to one of his scars there. His hand brushes across the bandages, and it feels like if you were to unwrap them, your hand would be good as new. This is what his golden touch does to you, and you’re sick of denying it. Maybe when you go out for drinks in a couple of days, you’ll make your move. Or at least, express your interest.

“You’re my safe place too. I hope you know that. And that there’s nobody else I would’ve let touch me anyway, especially if you weren’t there to oversee it.” His scent grounds you, and you missed being able to feel the vibrations of his chest when he speaks. You miss him like you’ve not seen him in years. 

You let out a breath, and let yourself fall into sleep, murmuring “I do.”

He holds you tighter, and follows suit.

                                            ————————

You wonder if this is a bad idea. When Nat was dismissed and Wanda had come back from a weekend trip with Vision, you had organised to go out for drinks. 

And you’ve decided that you’re going to try flirting tonight. With Bucky, and hope he’ll pick up what you’re putting down and either politely turn you away (likely) or finally make the move. And not a quick peck on the lips before he almost dies, a proper, sweeping off of your feet, romcom worthy kiss.

When you’d first arrived in New York, you’d decided to put your beaten, broken heart in a cage, and throw the key into the closest filthy river. And yet, Bucky has bended the metal bars with impressive strength and reached for it. He’s patched it up piece by painstaking piece, and made it good as new. You were content in your self-made captivity, the cage was once just fine, until it wasn’t. Until the winter sprung forth with freedom hues, and your heart was just out of one jail into another. 

But at least the warden is a sweetheart, keeping your heart healthy and well-kept. Your bars are his ribs, and at least you can see the daylight from in here. 

You’ve decided to up your going-out outfit to the next level. A black dress covered in deep red roses, just the shade Bucky likes, that shows off a good amount of your cleavage and emphasises the curves of your body in a way you don’t mind. You pair it with a leather jacket, and heavy, dark makeup. It’s a little experimental, but not out of your comfort zone. You used to wear eyeliner and dark lipstick all the time, on almost-dates and never-fun nights out. 

You’d stopped going all together, preferring to stay indoors, in your house, where no man can passively show you just how much prettier he finds your friends, or how much they’d prefer if you just lost a little weight. 

Safe to say, you haven’t experienced nights out in New York. And you can’t even get drunk at the moment, seeing as your hand is yet to heal. You’re just lucky it’s your non-dominant hand, so you were able to do this makeup look to yourself with a few tips and tricks from Nat. You smooth down the dress while adjusting the bangles on your wrist and the wolf emblem glinting against the very top of your breasts. You smile, dark red lips stretching back at you in the mirror.

You know once you step out of the house, and see almost any other woman who’s put a lot less effort into her appearance and somehow looks ten times better than you, you won’t feel pretty. Not even one bit. You’ll know, that even the way you look with the most effort is a million times uglier than anyone else at their worst.

But right now, you feel good. Pretty, even. You turn, watching Nat and Wanda watch you as they’ve already gotten ready and are waiting for you. Everyone in this room is aware of what your plans are.

“Alright, girls. Do I look good—I mean, do I look okay?” For a minute your past traumas flash before your eyes. 

Adjusting a necklace, turning to someone you love and trust, asking if you look good. They reply with “It’s okay, but it would be better if you reduced your volume.” Cruelly mentioning your weight, and then the whole night spent with tears streaming down your face and having to blame it on allergies. You swallow, even the mere thought of that experience almost making a large lump appear in your throat. Why are you thinking of that? It must be the nerves.

“Okay? Girl, you look drop-dead gorgeous. Hell, if you weren’t so down bad for Bucky, I would’ve asked you out in a heartbeat. Absolute heart-stealer.” Nat grins, eyeing you up and down. You know she’s just being nice, but it makes your heart swell all the same.

“Yeah, and if me and Vision weren’t so madly in love I would ask you to run away with me. Fuck, what are you doing later?” All the three of you laugh.

You have a history with having things like this said to you as a joke, but it’s never been so well-intended. While your self-esteem is mildly intact, you thank the both of them.

“Alright, I’ll see you guys there. Bucky’s taking me on his motorcycle.” You grab your maroon purse and head out to the front. Bucky’s dressed in all black, leaning against his motorcycle. Dear God, he looks so sexy. He’s typing something on his phone looking all angry, eyebrows furrowed. The moonlight paints him in the most glorious shades, of black and brown and glimmering gold. Home. That’s what he looks like, to you. Home. No longer a place thats an ocean and half a country away. This man, this super soldier, in whose presence you’ve felt like you belonged more in these past few months, than a lifetime over there.

Your chest fills with pride, and you can’t stop yourself.

“You showing off that metal arm tonight?” You skip the last few steps, stopping in front of him. You’re lucky you didn’t trip, it’s the first time you’ve worn heels in ages. Another memento of a time, of a version of you long gone.

He looks up from his phone, and his jaw goes slack. His eyes follow your figure up and down, mouth still hanging open.

“Doll—I, um, you—.” You put you hand on his shoulder, drawing his cerulean eyes up and straight on your lips. He licks his own, and everything flies out the window. A hot pressure ties itself to your lower belly, and you feel your face flush. 

You do have his attention after all.

You smile, looking up at him and grinning like a devil. He’s still at a loss for words, even as you squeeze his bicep. 

“Bucky…Should we get going or are you planning to stare at my mouth all night?” Your head tilts to the side, and it seems to snap him out of whatever daydreams he’s been conducting in his mind, so vivid they bring a pink glow to his cheeks.

“I—Yeah. Yes, let’s…let’s go. Where are we going?” You laugh at his stupor, walking over to his motorcycle and running your hands along the worn leather seat. For a moment, you think about all of the other girls that must have sat behind him, gripping onto him and pretending to be scares, when in reality they just want to cop a feel.

You wonder if you’re half as pretty as any of them, to him, at least. “This is an amazing bike, Buck. Incredibly sexy.” When you look up, you notice him watching you. You flash him your signature sweet smile, and he finally approaches the bike, putting his hands dangerously close to yours.

“Not nearly half as sexy as you. You look—Well, you can probably guess by my lack of words, but—You look gorgeous, doll. Truly. I—.”

“Thank you.” His demeanour finally cracks, a small smile appearing on his face when he realises you’re not fighting him. He wordlessly hands you a helmet, and clips it on for you, warm hands lingering under your chin. 

“Hold on tight, doll.” And then he zooms as fast as he can, with the wind blowing in your hair feeling incredible, even though you clutch onto his middle for dear life.

Your favourite part is when he stops at traffic lights to reach behind him and cheekily run his fingers along your knees and the very lower parts of your thighs, and somehow, you’ve never felt more wanted in your entire life.

Always a compliment or a cheeky joke on his tongue the entire way there— it makes your insides swirl, wondering if it truly can be that your feeling are the 10 to his 0.1.

God, you hope so. 

“Hey, Buck, can we talk tonight? After we come back?” You say to him, just as he’s unfastening your helmet and storing it back in his bike, not without admiring you shaking out your hair, running your fingers through it to tame the horrible case of helmet hair you’re sure you’re having.

“Yeah, sure doll. You don’t need to ask.” His voice is so soft, and you almost melt into a fucking puddle at his feet.

Great. That’s when you’ll make your move. You two are the last to arrive, as usual, and you casually slip your arms around one of Bucky’s, gripping him tightly to you like he’s your man, fingers intertwining undeniably. For the purpose of the illusion, your poor heart goes along with it. 

He visibly stiffens and so just before you walk into the dive bar, you stop him and lean in to whisper into his ear. You don’t mean for your voice to drop an octave with your volume, but it so happens. “Buck, darling. I can stop, if you want. All you have to do is say so, you know that, right?” You don’t miss the catch in his breath, the way his eyes flutter closed as he tries his best to retain his composure. 

“Please.” He turns his face toward you, and you don’t anticipate having your faces so close. You can see the golden flecks in his eyes, as pure as his soul and heart. You wonder where it is, knowing yours fully resides behind the bars of his ribcage. 

“Don’t stop,” he all but whispers and it takes a mountain’s worth of effort to conceal the moan slipping past your lips at his words. He’s done it on purpose, you’re sure.

The kiss has changed the fate of you and him, whether that be for worse or for better. You want him either way. 

You glance at his lips, and you notice how some of your lipstick has ended up just to the side of his ear from your sexual whispers. 

“Oh, sorry. My lipstick’s all—“

“Leave it. I want everyone in this bar to know who I’m with tonight.” His eyes find your lips again, no longer perfect from the smear decorating his face.

“You’re with me?”

“Always.” You want him. Desperately. To push him against the brick and mortar and kiss him like the world is ending tomorrow, and it makes your heart pick up. He notices, and you can feel the desire simmering in the air between the both of you. 

“Dear God guys, you can eyefuck each other later, now get in here.” Natasha’s voice distracts the both of you, heads whipping in comical synchronisation to stare at her bug-eyed, feeling caught by her crudeness. 

“We—I— We’re on our way.” You try and cover for the both of you, secretly dismayed by his dismissal of the notion. You try to not let your fears haunt the wonderful moment, even though they stand not too far off on the sidelines, waiting for the change of score so they can step into the limelight.

He didn’t let go of you the whole night. When everyone was a few drinks deep, he let his hand shift onto your thigh, staring at you like you might hate it. You’d grabbed his wrist and stroked the inside of it, knowing it’s his favourite way to be touched by you. 

And then the gang uses an empty beer bottle, spinning it on the tables in a juvenile game of truth or dare. You laugh at it, secretly holding Bucky’s hand under the table. You never got to play this game in school, too busy with work or studying and then getting to that sore age where it just feels So High School(derogatory).

But tonight, you are happy, free. Trying to access a version of you you’ve long discarded.

“Nurse!” Tony calls out, surprisingly sober despite being on his seventh bottle, whose neck is currently facing towards you. 

“Truth or Dare?” 

“Truth.”

“You like someone in this group, in this booth, don’t you?” You freeze. You can’t admit that, definitely not while holding that certain someone’s hand. “Well, it’s definitely not Steve.” Tony laughs, and you feel horrible for the poor blonde, now trying to hide his face in embarrassment. It seems alcohol opens old wounds when in Tony Stark’s system.

“Mr Stark.” Somehow, even fully sober you seem to have an air of confidence about you, mixing with your perfume. “That’s not very nice. How would you like it if someone made fun of when you used to hit on Ms Pepper and she rejected you? You know we’re all good friends here, there’s no need to be horrible to poor Steve, especially not just because he liked someone who doesn’t have the same feelings for him, but still cares deeply as a friend. It’s just not done, Mr Stark.”

You turn to Steve then, apology on the tip of your tongue. “Don’t worry about it, dear. Thank you for standing up for me.” He quickly touches your knee, careful to not let it linger seeing as he’s caught sight of your and Bucky’s intimate contact the second it began happening. “God, how’s she so respectful when telling me off?” Tony grumbles. Everyone’s eyes are on you, and you change the topic.

“I don’t want to complicate things right now, in front of anyone, so I won’t be answering. Dare.”

“Take three shots. I’ve heard you’re a drinker, and you haven’t touched a drop all night. Not fair, is it?” He leans back in his part of the booth, while you try your hardest to seem smaller, squashed between Steve and Bucky. 

You wonder how to answer without trying to seem like you’re chiding Bucky, because you truly do not blame him for your state. Thor replies for you, his voice booming.

“Can’t you see, the fair maiden has an injured hand, Stark. She should not be consuming any alcohol. Not a single drop.” You flash him a smile, even as you feel Bucky pulling away, and you just know the guilt is pulling him away. 

You quickly grab his hand tighter, keeping it on your thigh and making him meet your eye. 

Don’t blame yourself. You silently signal. 

I’ll try. He blinks back and you sigh, resting your chin on his shoulder for a split second in casual intimacy, and it makes him smile.

“Well yes. But also, Bucky’s not allowed to drink tonight either, so I thought I’d join him in solidarity.” It’s not a lie. One of the reasons you’ve been clinging to Bucky all night is to make sure he doesn’t drink alcohol. You know he’s a super soldier, you know you’d gotten him the antidote on time, and you’ve double checked his wounds at least twice in the past 24 hours just to know they’re nothing more than pink marks that’ll be gone by the time the sun rises tomorrow.

But you still worry. You still want to be safe, not wanting to take any risks. Nobody knows what level of poison will always remain in his bloodstream, what the knock on effects of machine produced antidotes are. 

You can’t take the chance. You just can’t. 

“That’s right. Me and my girl are going sober tonight. No shots for either of us.” 

He’s spoken several sentences, but you fixate on four words. Me and my girl. Is it correct grammar? No. But does it absolutely send your mind into a fritz? Absolutely.

“Ugh, all these rules and regulations. Fine then, I dare you to go up there and do some karaoke.” Your eyes widen. How the fuck do you get yourself out of this. “Look, sweetheart. It’s either that or you flirt with the bartender who’s been eyeing you all night.” He tilts his head behind you, and sure enough you’re being watched.

The bartender is not ugly, by any means— tall, brown hair and light eyes. But he’s not Bucky. So what’s the point? That man can stare all he wants, but he’ll never be the one to have you. Not as long as Bucky is next to you, in sickness or in health. 

“Go on, doll. You have an amazing singing voice.” 

“How do you—?”

He leans in to whisper in your ear, sending chills down your spine. “I hear everything you do in your room. When you think nobody’s awake to hear you, or nobody’s listening. I hear everything.” 

And all of a sudden, you’re out of your seat and being pushed to the small karaoke corner and all of the people at your booth get up to stand and hear you.

You know what song you’re going to sing. This isn’t how you planned it, but you suppose you’ll make the most of the situation.

You stand behind the mic stand, and your eyes find Bucky. 

They stay glued on him as you sing Guilty As Sin? By Taylor Swift, imagining all things you’ve never done with him. The way he touches you in your deepest desires, the way he kisses in your daily daydreams. It’s almost too much.

And then you see his face.

Lovestruck, lovelorn, lovesick.

All for you.

NEXT PART

[kurosstuff]

So I was thinking lute x fem reader demon and angel BUT it's an actor au. So lute obviously hates demons but outside of shooting the show she's so in love with the reader, I only got that far but I thought it was a good idea and you're an amazing writer

Thank you dearie♡♡ IT MEANS SO MUCH TO ME♡♡♡

Honestly- this? Is an amazing idea I love the whole Actor Aus

ALSO- when you said reader is demon and angel(unless I COMPLETELY read that wrong-??( I made them a fallen angel. Short I wrote this half asleep ima pass out now

Warning(s): fighting, au- so Lute acts not like her self? Idk SLIGHT sexual talk(leads to mire but it cuts off(

Lute x f!fallen angel! Reader: actor au

Lute snarled, glaring down at you. Her weapon drawn "a vile pathetic demon. On their knees begging me an angel for forgiveness? To surive an exectuoner?" Snarling, watching your gold blood pool around you. The gashes on your body-

"fuck you" you spat spitting your blood and spit at her making her sneer kicking you roughly ensuring you felt every hit fully- not holding anything back

"Some angel you turned out to be Y/N no wonder you fell. Can't even hold your tongue, can you?" snarling out, stepping closer, stabbing the spear in your food, smirking at the sick crunch it made. The scream you let out humming "Shall I stitch your mouth shut? Cut your tongue out?" her mask mimicking her mocking smirk at her prey- your sobbing self. "Let's see if you'll survive this time, no?" ripping the spear out about to strike before.

A whistle went off- making you sigh, "and scene! Take a break, everyone!" The director spoke out as the cameras shifted to a halt- stretching the pain in your side aching

"Oh god im- I'm so sorry" quickly realizing what was happening once you finally refocused, you smiled softly at your girlfriend- similar to her onscreen persona yet-

So different

"Lute~, my love~" you interrupted her with a soft hum standing up, holding her hands gently "its ok-! Look at me? I'm ok - yeah - sure you did actually hit me, but made the scene even more believable~" you hummed gently cupping her face kissing her snickering at the gag you heard beside you

"Their sucking faces again, boss!" Adam sneered teasingly, taking the plastic knife out of his back "Hey wha- NIFTY- you already stabbed me! Why keep putting it on!" He groaned, smirking chasing after the short woman who? Sped off laughing loudly about.. something you weren't to sure what she mumbled just like her show persona- only difference is she has two eyes.

As If she truly was made for the role.

"Dear but I hurt you!" Your attention grabbed from the woman in your arms you hummed letting her drag you to your shared dressing room as she rambled apologies upon apologies as she did everyrime your characters saw each other on stage

"Lute"

"God i- I'm a horrible girlfriend! Look! Your bruising!"

"Lute~?' You cut off her ramblings, pulling her onto your lap- such a surpise a cold woman in the show was just as cold bur a total softy with you- made you feel more special. "I'm ok. Remember~ baby~? It's acting. If I hit you would you be mad~?"

"No" she grumbled, flushed holding you close to her with a sigh "I'd forgive you. Time and time again no matter what.' She confessed with a deep sigh kissing you gently covering your face in kisses apologizing physically "Tell you what~? I'll give cuddles and kisses as an apology ~ for hurting you?"

And not even a second goes by before you gasp looking at her. "Oh! God, that hurts my leg! I need kisses, state doctor!" Making her laugh easily carying you to the bed for just that kissing you all over yet again smirking happily laying beside you

"Did you know were shipped- like uh- our characters in the show?" She hummed, wrapping an arm around your waist, nuzzling up to you happily "pretty interesting huh~ says theres.. so much sexual tension~"

"There is" you spoke bluntly smirking at her confused face "there was a scene. Of us arguing and you pinned me to the wall. You kept glancing at my lips a very heated look on your face, but the director kept it in~" snickering at hee flushed face humming "but same here~ god did I wanna kiss you so bad- that adorable scowl you do-"

Scoffing, she playfully glared up at you before she smirked straddling your waist "suppose you want more kisses then~? Tempted to kiss you here and now~ keep you in my arms in our dressing room bed~' cooing softly you held her waist

"Oh~? Then do something about it~"

-

"Lute. You just HAD to mark me up?" You whined following your lover close as she smirked smug proudly showing off her own markings you left "Lute! Nows not the time ti be showing off! You got us temporarily banned from being in our dressing rooms alone!"

Shrugging, she hummed, glancing over at you "Then I get you at home~ easy. It was more then worth it I dear~ now come on~ I wanna go home and..cuddle some more ~" snickering at the flustered look on your face.

You can only imagine the lecture you'll both get for leaving so soon. Bur you'll handle that later.

[cowgurrrl]

Killer

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's Note: FINALLY

Summary: “God is fucking with my oblivion. If he wants forgiveness, he shouldn’t have given us memory.” — Fish in Exile by Vi Khi Nao [2.7k]

Warnings: canonical type violence, PTSD symptoms, implied past violence, probably incorrect wound care, vague mention of Joel's sobriety, maybe love is enough to keep us alive

She's still shaking when you manage to get her to sit down long enough to look at the blood on her face and hands. Most of it isn't hers, but you can tell by the disengaged look in her eyes that she still paid for it. It isn't until you get some food and water in her that she seems more present, more there. You somehow convince Joel to wait for you in the living room instead of standing menacingly in the doorway with the shotgun still slung over his shoulder. Besides, he definitely popped his stitches and got a few more injuries for his troubles and should not be standing longer than necessary. 

"I'm gonna clean you up and then see what I can do about your bumps and bruises. Is that okay?" You ask as you pull out the first aid kit you managed to save from the flames. She just nods, and her fingers flex against the lip of the tub she's sitting on when you raise your hands. 

You explain every movement as you swipe the cold washcloth across her sensitive skin. She flinches if you move too fast or unexpectedly, her body jerking in the direction of the door. You have to shush her and drop everything when she does to show her your nonthreatening hands. As if seeing the empty space in your palms will ease the tension in her shoulders and erase the memories from her head. You breathe deeply, and she copies you until she relaxes enough for you to continue. It takes a long time to get a full inventory of her injuries. 

The notch on her nose isn't deep enough to need stitches, but you can tell it's shattered. From what you can immediately see, she has a broken nose, a concussion, and signs of smoke inhalation. Most of her injuries seem internal, too far away, and come with weeks of recovery time. The only ones you can treat outright are the burns and cuts on her hands and forearms. Even those you can only bandage and wait.  

"Is anything hurting that I can't see?" You ask gently, and she nods. "Where?"

"My…" her voice is crackly and seemingly too deep to be hers. She has to clear her throat to continue. "My ribs."

"Is it okay if I feel around to see if any are broken?" You ask, and she nods hesitantly. Carefully, you put your hands on her sides and apply some pressure every time you feel a set of ribs. She hisses when you press on the seventh and nearly jumps away when you move down to the eighth. "Hey, you're okay. I'm not trying to hurt you," you soothe. "It feels like you've got at least two that are broken, okay? They'll heal on their own, but it's gonna hurt like hell for a few weeks."

"Hurts like hell now." She mumbles.

"I know." You say, wishing there was more you could do. Little by little, she tells you everything that hurts, and you can tell her what's wrong— or, at least, what you're pretty sure is wrong. Without access to X-rays or real tests, everything is a best-guess diagnosis. "It looks like I've got some ibuprofen in here. That'll help with your pain for a while. It's completely safe." You say as you dig through the first aid kit and put two tablets in her hand. She hesitates, her eyes flicking to the door, hiding the two of you in the bathroom. 

"What about Joel?" She asks.

"There's more than enough in here for the both of you," you say and pass her a half-empty water bottle. "Please, just take them." It takes her looking at your supplies and ensuring you have enough to take them. She winces when she swallows but doesn't complain as you search for bandaids to cover her nose and burn cream for her fingers.

"Is he okay?" She asks so quietly you almost missed it. She's really asking if he's gonna die. If something is going to go wrong again and pull him into the bottomless pit of unconsciousness. If you're going to lose him. You screamed at her the last time she asked you that, and the memory makes you sick. She's staring at you like a dog waiting to be kicked when you nod. 

"He's gonna be fine. Might've ripped a stitch or two, but it's nothing we can't handle." You say, but she doesn't look comforted by your report. 

"Are you okay?" 

"I'm okay." It's easier than talking about the burns on your arm from trying to get in the building. Or the painful creaking in your hand that's surely the result of breaking bones across men's faces. Or the devastating flashbacks you fought through when Ellie tried to tell you what happened. 

"I'm sorry." She mumbles. You press your elbows to your knees and lean forward so she can't avoid you. 

"Look at me," you urge, not daring to say another word until she does. "I'm not mad at you. Joel is not mad at you. None of this is your fault," she tries to open her mouth to argue, but you raise your hand to stop her. "I was too hard on you when Joel got hurt. I expected too much of you, and that's not fair. I'm the adult. I should've been shouldering the brunt of it, not you. I'm sorry." She doesn't say anything, and you shift uncomfortably as you think. 

"Y'know, there was a long time when I didn't travel with Joel. It was just me. I was trying to get to Boston, and I tried to do everything right. I didn't get too close to QZs. I didn't light fires. I didn't trust anyone else because I…" you stumble. "I know what men do to women who are alone with no one protecting them." The confession settles in the space separating you. You don't need to say anything more, and she doesn't need to hear more. Your eyes sting, and you take a shaky breath to compose yourself. "Nobody can blame you for doing what you did, is what I'm trying to say, I guess."

"I… I didn't know what else to do," she whispers, tears shining in her eyes. "I was so scared. He got in my head. He wouldn't stop talking. I just..." she trails off and shakes her head. "He said I was like him."

"Sweet girl, you are nothing like him." You say, but her jaw flexes in protest, a stray tear rolling down her cheek.

"I'm violent. And angry."

"So am I," you say. "I'm angry every day, and I don't handle it well. You've seen it. Am I like him, too?" You ask, reaching out to wipe a tear away before it can fall down her chin. She freezes for just a second before leaning into you, letting you take the weight of her head in your hand. You tuck her into your chest while she's still pliant and rub her back as her cries turn more into anguished sobs. "I know. I know," you tell her over and over again because you do know. "You're nothing like him, honey. Not even close."

She cries and bangs her fists against your chest angrily and spits every curse she knows. She will never get to be the little girl she was when she left Boston. He took that from her, and she has to learn to live with that. You can handle a few more bruises if it means she feels better for even half a second. You let her do whatever she needs to do until she wears herself out and her tears slow. When she's done, you give her more water and food before scooping her in your arms and carrying her out to where Joel is waiting.

He looks up from where he's anxiously pacing, his right foot taking more of his weight than his left, and glances between you and Ellie. Quickly, he sets up a makeshift bed for her on the old couch equipped with a sleeping bag and blankets, balling up his jacket as a pillow. You lay her body down as softly as possible, mindful of her broken ribs, and she curls up the second she touches the familiar material. You sit on the couch with her, playing with her hair and rubbing her back until she falls asleep. She smells like smoke and sweat, but you don't care. Joel acts as a quiet sentinel by bouncing his eyes from you two to the room around you like someone could come in at any point with weapons and ill intent. 

Your fingers linger on the side of her neck, feeling her pulse against your skin as if to affirm that she's real and alive and here before you look at Joel. He looks as shaken as you feel. It was close. Closer than you've been in a long time, but she's alive. All three of you are, but at what cost? You swallow thickly and hesitantly stand from your perch next to Ellie, and Joel reaches for you, but you put a finger to your lips and gesture toward the bathroom. If she wakes up, she'll never go back to sleep, and she desperately needs rest after the past few weeks. He obediently follows you into the bathroom, and you leave the door cracked enough to see Ellie sleeping on the couch and for her to see you if she wakes up. You can keep both of them safe from here.

"Your turn, cowboy," you say as you put on a clean pair of gloves. He settles against the sink, sighing and shakily lifting his shirt to show you his stitches. About half of them held, and there's a slow flow of blood from the cut. Nothing to worry about. "You want anything for the pain?" You ask, and he shakes his head, jaw flexing. 

"No, no. It's fine. There's probably some adrenaline left or somethin'." He grumbles. 

"I'm sure that's how science works," you tease to lighten the mood as you gather the suturing supplies. He watches you with weary eyes like he's waiting for you to inject him with something else. You show him your gloved hands, containing only the needle and thread, and he takes a deep breath as he looks at you.

"I trust you," he says quietly. You think about pushing him to take something— anything— if it means he won't suffer, but you know it's a battle you'll lose like you always do. You might as well save time and just work. 

He's mostly quiet during the whole procedure, only letting out little huffs and grunts when you get to particularly sensitive areas. You mumble apologies and updates as you maneuver the needle as seamlessly as possible. Before, you didn't have the brain power to count his stitches and were, honestly, too scared to. There were too many factors against you, too much blood, too much fear. This time, you count all twenty-seven of them. He bleeds a little more, but it clots quickly and doesn't happen again once there's a neat line of real sutures across his stomach. You tape the bandage to his skin and pull his shirt back to cover it. He'll need a new one soon or, at least, a wash. 

Ellie's breathing is the only sound as you look for newer injuries. Bruises here and there and more broken or fractured bones in his already half-healed hand, but that's it. You stand from your place on the closed toilet lid to check his pupils for any signs of a concussion, but the second your face is close to his, he leans in just enough to kiss you. It's a welcome shock. 

When was the last time you kissed him? Jackson? Boston? In some distant time before Ellie? You never thought he'd open his eyes ever again, let alone be standing in front of you and kissing you. His lips are cracked but firm and familiar. His beard scratches your skin, but you can't be bothered to care. There are much worse things than the sting. His hands hold your face, and you want to fall into his chest, but you don't, conscious of his fresh stitches. Ellie mumbles something in her sleep, and you immediately break away from each other to stare at her through the crack in the door. She shifts but doesn't say anything else or show any signs of distress. When you look at each other again, his shoulders fall slightly. His hand lingers on your chin and turns your head a little to the left. "You've got a black eye." He murmurs, and you shrug.

"Yeah, David's guys got a few good hits in." You say. He looks over you, silently searching for something, and all you can do is watch him. He must seen how sullen and dead your eyes have become in the past few weeks. You've lost weight, so Ellie wouldn't. Your face is still dirty, and your hands are weak. You're not much to look at, and yet, he can't stop staring. 

When Joel suddenly found strength after hearing you yell after Ellie as men surrounded the house, you didn't necessarily have time for a warm reunion. You only had time to hide and wait for them to descend the stairs to the basement, where you could knock them around until they hit the ground. Even once the wheezing lungs returned to normal breathing and silence filled the house, you didn't talk about much more than getting Ellie back. 

Then, just like you did in the QZ, you did what you do best. You hurt people to get what you needed and killed them when you did. Joel screamed in their faces and demanded answers while you wiped blood from your hands and packed up your stuff. He finished them off brutally and without hesitation. It's the meticulous strategy and killing that reminds you of the Joel Tommy and Maria were so worried about. The one who didn't give two shits about his own life, let alone somebody else's. The one who was motivated by his pre-Outbreak work ethic to keep the monsters away, even if he became one in the process. The one who you met and worked with until the lines blurred. That Joel.

But in the dim light of the bathroom, with the smell of blood tinging the air, you can't find any traces of him. You only have the Joel you've come to discover on this journey, the Joel that was always hiding under the surface, the Joel you love. You take a deep breath and stare at him like if you look away, something will happen and try to kill him again. 

There's so much you need to talk about and plan for. You all need to recover and make up for lost time. You need to apologize and take care of them until it feels like it's enough to heal the pit of guilt eating away at you. You need to figure out what's next. But you can't find it in yourself to recount the events that happened while Joel was unconscious on the basement floor. Not yet. The only thought you keep circling back to is the exact one you've spent years pushing away and berating in hopes it would stop invading your psyche. Now, it feels unavoidable.

"I love you," you say. You're not quiet or hoping that he's deaf enough to miss it. You say it with everything that you are because no part of you has gone untouched by him. He kisses your forehead and pulls you into him.

"I know," he says simply. Years of tension and unspoken thoughts release from your shoulders, and you bury your face in his neck. "I love you." The syllables sound sweet as they break over his southern accent, and you want to wrap them around you for the rest of your life. You want to try to make a life where you can do that. You want him. You want a soft, happy life with Ellie and Joel where you don't have to morph into old forms to stay alive. 

You want a soft future, and if you have to bite and kill and scream to get it, then that's what you'll do. Nobody will ever take them away from you again.

[slut4thebroken]

okay hear me out 🥴

being jason's mission partner and the two of you spend the night at a safehouse after the mission goes wrong. you've become 'friends' after some time (even though he hated the idea of having a mission partner) but you two work so well together, plus the little situationship you've got yourselves into; friends that flirt sometimes but it's never serious, at least not enough to acknowledge that you both actually might have feelings for eachother (idiots🙄)

so back in the safe house, you have a wound on your back that you can't reach to take care of so jason offers to stitch it up. he sits behind you in the ratty sofa and you take off your shirt. it was obvious in your head that you'd have to do so but it didn't make you any less tense to be bare in front of your friend. and jason is not any better sitting behind you.

you're holding you shirt to your front but towering over you he can still see the swell of your tits and it's driving him insane. he can barely focus on his task when you're making all these little noises at the feel of the needle in your skin, trying your best to muffle them and look all strong like you're not feeling an incredible amount of pain at the moment. he finds you so incredibly hot right now.

you lean a bit to grab the water bottle you left on top of the table in front of the sofa and your shirt slips a bit. you don't notice but jason sure does and now he's sporting a semi in front of his friend. he's thanking the heavens right now that you have your back to him and can't see this.

when he's done, there's a silent beat filled with undeniable sexual tension as you turn back to look at him and thank him. he doesn't notice he's blushing until you're smirking suggestively at the red shade spreading across his face and neck. you get up suddenly and he watches you intently. still holding your shirt to your tits just before you drop it on the ground and look back at him with a teasing smile, then heading to the hall that leads you to your rooms, bare chested.

jason is left dumbfounded in the silent living room of the safe house, still replaying the sight of you dropping your shirt and walking around bare like you do this all the time. He looks down at the tent in his pants and sighs. He'll have to take care of this.

EEEEP I just had to share this thot with someone!! I love the way you write jason btw <3 mwah!

- syd ♡

😳😳😳that would be- goddamn🤭

I will keep the idea in but I can’t promise anything. Ty for the ask!!!!

[cinnamongorll]

a fragile line - chapter 16

read on ao3 (111k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Fic synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Word count: 4k

Chapter 16: 'Villain'

Almost a week later:

Juliet's POV:

“I’ll use those rocks to climb over, then I’ll pull you up, okay?” Joel commanded over the roar of water, gritting his teeth as he turned to stare at the makeshift path across the river.

“Shouldn’t I be the one helping you?” Juliet countered, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re the injured one, remember?” she said with a raised eyebrow. 

Joel stared back at her for a long moment, his nostrils flaring as he apparently restrained himself from vocalising his annoyance. Then he turned away from her, not even dignifying Juliet’s mocking concern with a response. 

Juliet let her eyes graze over Joel’s torso where, underneath the dark blue shirt, was his healing stab wound. Her mind instantly went back to that night: her clumsy stitches, Joel’s whiskey, the kiss they shared. Juliet blinked, shaking her head. She had put those thoughts behind her when they had left that house a few days ago, Juliet and Joel were back to normal. There were no lingering looks, no accidental touches, no intense conversations. That was in the past. 

“Juliet,” Joel called over the rush of the river. 

She stiffened. Juliet would never get used to the sound of her name on Joel’s lips. 

“Yeah, okay. You climb over the rocks then pull me up. I got it,” she reluctantly agreed. 

Joel looked down at her, his jaw clenched as his eyes scanned her face, then he nodded. 

He began to move, Joel was surprisingly agile as he stepped between the algae-covered stones, leading a path across the river, towards a larger formation of rocks towering over the other side. 

Juliet followed close behind, fiercely concentrating on not slipping and falling into the water. The current would pull her away instantly. Her eyes were trained on her feet, watching every step. When they reached the edge of the river, Joel turned, balancing on a stone, and stretched his hand out to Juliet, forming a gentle grip on her upper arm. Despite standing in the middle of a river, one wrong move from certain death, Juliet’s whole body ignited with the feeling of Joel’s touch. 

“Wait here,” Joel ordered as he titled his head down to meet her eyes, ensuring Juliet had heard him. Joel held her arm for another second to make sure her balance was okay, then he let go and turned towards the large rocks lining the edge of the river, blocking their path. Juliet welcomed the damp mist from the rushing water, cooling her scorching skin as she watched Joel grip the rocks and climb over. She cringed, thinking about how painful his wound must be.

When Joel reached the top, he turned, beckoning her with a single gesture to move forward so he could grab her. Juliet swallowed and stepped towards him, her legs threatened to tremble as she glided over the algae into Joel’s outstretched arms. His rough hands gripped her, Joel’s fingers digging into her flesh as he demonstrated the intense strength housed within his body and pulled her up onto the stable ground he crouched on. It would have been seamless if Juliet’s knee hadn’t hit off one of the rocks, causing her body to fall onto Joel’s, knocking him to the ground. 

Joel’s groan reverberated through Juliet’s body as she lay pressed against his chest. The sound of their heavy breathing was drowned out by the river, but Juliet could still feel Joel’s hot gasps on her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut, some part of her believed that if she didn't open them, she wouldn’t have to acknowledge that she was once again lying on top of Joel. And that she was making no effort to get up. For those few seconds, Juliet savoured the feel of him beneath her.

“Juliet,” Joel grumbled, his voice strained by her weight on his chest. 

Juliet’s eyes flashed open, embarrassment flooding her. This position was too familiar, too intimate, she had to get up. Her eyes scanned Joel’s face, searching for that disgust she always assumed lingered in his mind from the last time they were this close. Instead, she found Joel’s features twisted in a combination of concern and pain. 

“You alright?” Joel asked in a low voice, barely audible over the rush of the river. His hands started to move again, circling Juliet’s wrists. Juliet’s eyes followed his movement, transfixed by the veins that covered his hands. Then she blinked and nodded slowly, forcing her mind to forget about the feeling of her body on his. 

Juliet nodded again, this time with more force and she shook her arms from Joel’s gentle grip, pushing herself up. 

Juliet stood and stretched her limbs, turning around to face the river as she watched it from the higher ground. It looked magnificent from this angle, the water moved so quickly, foam lingered around the rocks. She wasn’t able to appreciate its beauty when it was one wrong move away from causing her a quick, but very painful, death. 

Juliet kept watching the river with her back turned away from Joel as she listened to him stand up and fix his bag on his shoulders. When she finally turned around, Juliet had wiped every treacherous emotion from her face. Her mouth was set in a hard line and she swallowed rough, ready to continue their hike through the forest she knew all too well. Juliet scanned Joel’s face, making sure he was ready and then she stepped in front of him, heading off into the trees. She wasn’t able to hear Joel’s footsteps over the lingering sound of the river, but Juliet knew that he followed. 

…………………………………………….

Over three years ago, Juliet ran through this forest for two days. Day and night she clawed her way past trees and bushes, almost drowning herself wading through streams, and destroying her throat screaming into the wind. Until Blake eventually found her, huddled under a large tree, her face covered in scrapes and her body shaking with dehydration. 

Now, Juliet was back. This time, she hiked through the forest with Joel sulking behind her. This time, she was heading towards her nightmare, instead of sprinting away from it. This time, she didn’t run through the forest, in fact, her steps were slower than usual. Juliet was practically strolling through the trees, stopping every now and then to brush her hand against a tree trunk or run her fingers through some leaves. If Joel noticed her change of pace, he said nothing, just kept walking behind her. Juliet tried to ignore the heat of his gaze locked on the back of her head. She could feel his unspoken questions in the space between them, she could feel the intensity of his attention. 

The memories of this forest choked her. Tomorrow, they would reach her old home. In a few hours, Juliet would say goodbye to Joel forever. She would see Ethan again, but at what cost? Her life would be over. Juliet only had today, and here she was, forced to walk the same path she fought with blood and tears to escape. 

Juliet reverted to her usual coping mechanism: distraction. 

She twisted her body around, facing Joel as she walked backwards, praying she didn’t walk into a tree. Joel’s eyebrows shot up, the lines on his forehead growing deeper.

“So your brother, in Wyoming…” Juliet began, assessing Joel’s face to see if he was receptive to conversation. When he didn’t immediately shut her down, Juliet continued: 

“What’s his name?” she asked, twisting back around so she could walk beside him, matching her footsteps to his. 

Joel looked over at Juliet, scanning her up and down, his features still displayed his confusion. But he didn’t shut her down, he didn’t turn away. Maybe Joel sensed that she was falling apart inside. Maybe he could tell that she needed something to anchor her back to the present. 

“Tommy,” Joel finally replied. His voice was quiet and he tilted his head down after the name left his mouth, as though it was difficult for him to think about. Juliet knew that Joel didn’t like to share anything personal about himself, or talk about himself at all, really. She was desperate for more information, to hear that vulnerability in his voice again.

“Younger or older?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper. 

“Younger,” Joel said, his eyes now trained on his feet as they continued making their way through the deep forest. 

Juliet nodded. “Why aren’t you together?” 

“A long story,” he responded after a lengthy pause. Joel’s body had visibly stiffened, his footsteps heavier. Juliet swallowed. 

They still walked side by side, and Juliet felt that there was a strange anonymity to this position, neither could read each other’s expressions unless they actively turned their heads. A few minutes later, she tried again.

“So, you go to Wyoming and find Tommy… then what?” Juliet asked. She purposefully kept staring forward, she didn’t want to turn and see the scowl she assumed marked Joel’s face. After a minute, when he didn't respond, Juliet prompted: “Where are you going to go? What are you going to do?” in a cautious whisper. 

Only the sounds of their boots crunching over leaves and twigs filled the space around them. Then Joel’s voice broke the silence. 

“It’s never been an option before,” he said in a low voice. Then his head lifted to survey the trees that surrounded them. Juliet dared to glance over at his face and found a strange look flickering in Joel’s eyes, there was a glimmer of hope lurking behind his dark stare. His mind was allowing himself to imagine a future where he was alive, where he was safe, where he had choices which extended beyond survival.  

He turned to Juliet, a soft curve approaching the corner of his mouth. “Maybe an old farmhouse, some land… a ranch,” Joel drawled, his southern accent somehow thicker as he said the words. The ghost of a smile didn’t leave his face.

“A ranch, huh?” she asked, a little too quick and Juliet cursed herself. She didn't want to scare Joel with her desperate, traitorous, eagerness to know everything about him. “What kind of animals?” Juliet continued, slower this time, more cautious. 

“Sheep,” he answered instantly, then paused, staring down at Juliet and waited until she met his eyes. "They’re quiet, do what they’re told,” he continued in a low voice, amusement dancing in his eyes. 

Juliet’s lips parted in quiet shock, her steps almost stumbling, then a laugh burst out of her. It happened too fast, she didn’t have time to cover her mouth with her hands, to try and hide her smile. No, Juliet’s lips pulled back over her teeth, revealing a huge grin as laughter erupted from deep within her. All of the tension of the last week lept from her at the sound of Joel’s teasing words. “Yeah,” she said through a giggle, attempting to catch her breath. “Good luck with that.” 

Juliet’s laughter rang loud throughout the forest, she hadn’t even noticed that Joel had joined her. His quiet chuckle fused with her roaring amusement. It was only when Juliet turned that she noticed the change in Joel’s expression, the way his lips had stretched into a real smile and the lines around his eyes had deepened. And his eyes… his eyes burned with something Juliet was unable to pinpoint as he stared down at her. Juliet had spent so long with Joel now, she thought she had witnessed every emotion on his face, every expression in his eyes. But she was wrong.

As they continued their steps through the forest and their laughter eventually quietened, that new, startled look never left his brown eyes. 

……………………………………………………

Hours later, night descended on the forest and Joel steered them off path into a small clearing between a couple trees to set up camp. Since their truck was ransacked and they lost most of their supplies, Joel and Juliet had been sleeping on their jackets nearly every night. It was usually fine, the mild air would continue into the night and they were able to sleep somewhat comfortably. However, over the past week, the weather turned. It felt as though the world had remembered that it was now autumn and the temperature had suddenly dropped to match the season. 

“Would it be stupid to ask if we could risk a fire tonight?” Juliet asked, staring hopefully at Joel’s back as he bent down, searching through the backpack he had propped against a tree. 

Joel scoffed, stretching his neck around to meet her eyes. “What do you think?” he responded, sarcasm dripping from his deep voice. Any amusement from earlier was long gone, Joel was back to his usual grumpy demeanour. 

“Okayyy,” Juliet answered, lifting her hands in defence. 

They didn’t speak for a while after that, both of them silently reaching around in their backpacks, pulling out the remainder of their food supply. Juliet’s hands froze when she gripped the final can from the raided the high school. It suddenly hit Juliet that this would be their last meal together. Tomorrow, they would reach Juliet’s old community and they would go their separate ways. Never again would they eat cold twenty year old ravioli in a can, sharing identical looks of disgust. 

Juliet’s eyes fluttered closed and her chest tightened. Complicated emotions swirled in her gut. Tomorrow she would see Ethan again, she would save him from whatever torment her father had put him through. But any joy from seeing him again would be destroyed by the knowledge that she would take his place. Juliet’s free hand curled into a fist. 

Throughout this whole journey with Joel, Juliet knew where she was heading. She had prepared for it, mentally enforcing her emotional defences, ensuring she could survive. But it hadn’t felt real until they had reached the forest. The forest once meant freedom to Juliet, her journey was a gift from Ethan, it had marked her as a survivor. Now, it was just a reminder of what she had lost, what she was now forced to return to. 

“Hey,” Joel’s voice cut through Juliet’s spiralling thoughts. She looked up, her eyes wet with unshed tears. Joel stood above her, holding the remainders of his own food supply. 

Juliet held her breath, praying that Joel wouldn’t notice the tears in her eyes or the haunted expression on her face. 

He paused for a second, running a hand over the scruff of his jaw before he looked back down at her. “Ready to eat?” he asked, his tone was casual, as though he hadn’t just stopped Juliet from falling down a hole of her deepest fears and regrets. 

Juliet forced her mouth into a small smile, then she nodded. 

Joel had cleared an area between two trees and positioned his torch on the ground to provide some light. Juliet placed herself down against the tree, Joel sat opposite her, hitting the ground with a groan and murmur about his legs. Juliet just rolled her eyes. 

They ate in silence, passing the can between them and nibbling on the suspicious berries Joel had found. Juliet usually attempted conversation as they ate, she would crack some joke or ask Joel a handful of questions which he would either ignore or vaguely answer. During this dinner, their final dinner, Juliet was overcome by her sorrow. Thinking back to earlier that day, she couldn’t believe she had found a reason to laugh. That moment felt so far away to her now. Juliet just stared into the torch light, relishing in the way it burned her eyes. 

Joel cleared his throat. Juliet blinked and looked up, he was staring right at her, his jaw clenched and his eyes hardened when he noticed the expression on her face. Juliet hadn’t bothered to force a smile this time. 

“Can I ask you somethin’?” he asked quietly. Juliet was surprised, his voice was soft, gentle almost, a stark contrast to the darkness in his eyes. 

Juliet rolled her shoulders and leaned back against the tree. “Shoot,” she replied. 

Joel nodded, tilting his head downwards then back up to her curious face in a subtle movement. Joel appeared to be carefully considering his words, as if he were holding something back. 

“That fuck - Blake” Joel almost snarled, a muscle jumping in his jaw as he said the man’s name. “He said he found you half dead in some forest in Iowa... was he tellin’ the truth?” he asked, his voice was as sharp as a razor's edge. 

Juliet gasped, her mind flashed back to the gas station, trapped between the wall and Blake’s body as he taunted Joel.

“You remember that?” she whispered, her eyes glued to Joel’s dark stare. 

“Was he?” Joel pressed. “Tellin’ the truth?” 

Juliet looked away for a brief moment, searching for something in the dark to tell her what to do, to tell her what to say. She sighed, it was her last night with Joel, what was the harm in answering his question?

Juliet turned back to Joel, her fingernails began to dig into her palms. She nodded. “Yeah.”

“Was it this forest?” Joel questioned, his voice low and rough. His eyes scanned Juliet’s face with the bite of a surgeon's knife, she could feel it in the blush that erupted over her skin. She kept her features steady, her mask on, he couldn’t know how dangerous these questions were. 

“Yes,” she responded, attempting to keep her tone as casual as possible. Juliet didn’t want Joel to know that she was falling apart inside, that his questions were digging away at the walls she had carefully built over the past three years. She didn’t want Joel to know that she was terrified of what might spill out. 

“That’s what I don’t get,” he said, then sat forward, resting his arm on his bent knee. “Why would you be lyin’ half dead in a forest only a few miles from your home?” 

Juliet froze, every muscle locked up. She might have even stopped breathing for a second. Silence lingered between them. 

“Is there somethin’ you’re not tellin’ me?” Joel demanded, his voice was dangerous, probing… concerned. 

Juliet swallowed and shifted against the tree, then tilted her chin up, refusing to let her mask slip entirely even if it had faltered slightly. 

“No… I -” she started, then cut herself off with a harsh cough. “Something happened a few years ago and I had to leave,” Juliet began again, staring straight ahead at Joel. “I was young, didn’t know how to find food or shelter. Blake found me and we travelled across the country together. You know the rest,” Juliet explained quietly. 

Joel sat with her words for a minute, his face was lit up by the torch in a way that made him look even more menacing. His eyes weren’t just dark anymore, they were black. 

His gaze dropped to Juliet’s hands, where her fingernails almost burst the skin on the palms. Joel’s brows knitted together. 

“And now what? You’re just goin’ back? After all this time?” he barked out. Anger suddenly slowed through him, trembling his hands and deepening his scowl.  

“There’s people that need me,” Juliet argued.

“Your dad?” Joel questioned, his eyes narrowing.  

Juliet felt her walls begin to crumble. Where was this all coming from? Why did he wait until now to ask her all this? To question her story?  

“Yes, my father,” she said. “And others.”

Joel just scoffed and pulled his whiskey flask out his bag, taking a long drink.

Juliet remembered what happened the last time they shared that flask. The blush on her skin deepened. She had to diffuse this tension, Joel was getting worked up over nothing. She let out a deep breath and folded her hands in front of her, attempting to ignore the stinging crescent shaped marks now covering her palms.

“Listen, Joel. I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me over the past couple months. But tomorrow I’m going home,” she stated, her voice clear, confident. Then she waited until he met her eyes again. “You’ll get your supplies, I promise.” 

Joel’s mouth dropped open, then shut again just as quickly. Juliet didn’t even have time to blink before he pushed himself off the ground and stalked over to her. 

“You think that’s what this is about?” he growled, towering over Juliet’s form as she pressed her back harder against the tree. “That I’m worried about the supplies?” he continued, then barked out a cold, humourless laugh.

Juliet didn’t like feeling small, she didn’t enjoy having Joel look down at her, so she stood. Even when standing as tall as she could manage, she still only came up to Joel’s shoulder, but it was better than cowering on the ground. 

Joel wasn’t shaken by her movements, he used it as an opportunity to stride closer to her until there were only inches between them. Juliet breathed in his scent of pine and smoke and had to stop herself from closing her eyes. 

Joel made a sound from the back of his throat and moved closer, forcing Juliet to back up against the tree behind her. Joel put his arms out, his palms now flush with the wood. Juliet was caged in.

“Juliet,” he whispered, the fury in his eyes had melted with the heat between their bodies. “I’m not gonna take you somewhere unless I know you’ll be safe, ” Joel vowed. 

Juliet’s eyelids fluttered close. Her throat was burning with all the words she couldn’t say to Joel. She had never seen him so vulnerable, so honest before. And now she had to repay him by lying to his face. 

She blinked up at him, her pupils flared at the close proximity between them. Joel could see every microexpression on her face, he could feel the rise and fall of her chest. If she was going to lie, it had to be convincing. Joel wasn’t a man to go back on his word, if he didn’t think her old home was safe then he would probably throw her over his shoulder and create a new plan to get to his brother. 

Juliet cleared her throat and reached a hand up to place on Joel’s chest. She could feel his heart thumping against her palm. 

“I’m going home, Joel,” she breathed, then dug her fingers deeper into her palm, preparing herself for the bite in her next words.

“It’s the safest place for me.”

As each word left her mouth, Juliet began to rebuild the wall in her mind, repairing the parts that Joel damaged with his unprompted concern. 

Juliet swore that Joel flinched, she felt his heartbeat falter under her gentle touch. But there was no time to reflect on it, no time to say anything else that might ease the pain she saw ripple across his features, because seconds later he had let go of her and stalked back over to his backpack by the other tree. 

Once again, the whiskey flask was in his hand, then he was taking another couple gulps before he dropped it back in his bag. 

Juliet’s back was still pressed against the tree, the cool bark helped ease the heat invading her skin. She couldn’t believe that she was cold earlier, that she had wished for a fire. At the sound of Joel’s metal flask hiting against the buckle of his bag, Juliet was knocked out of her trance and she moved forward, sliding back down to sit on the ground. 

She watched Joel reach over to the torch and hover his finger over the switch, then turn and catch her eyes again. Juliet almost gasped in shock. Joel’s expression was vacant, every emotion she had seen marked across his face had been stripped clean. He stared at her like she was a stranger, like he hadn’t just announced his devotion to her safety. 

“Get some sleep,” he murmured, and switched off the light. 

Even in the darkness, Juliet could still sense him near.

As they both drifted off, Juliet unconsciously reached her hand across the gap between them, her fingers almost touching the rough hand of the man who did the same.

______________________

@amyispxnk @shotgun-shelby

[our-trans-punk-experience]

What does it really mean to be a "punk?" Is it a subculture? An ideology? Both? Something else?

It seems very interesting to me but I'm afraid that it'll turn into something where I have to sacrifice myself for the cause/scene/group or something. I'm not doing that. Period. I want to do stuff, you know? I want to fight. I want to make music. But I don't want to worship an idol of rigid Marxist analysis that asserts itself as the one true way of understanding our world as well as the one true moral framework. Not that I'm a big fan of morality anyways. I'm not joining The Christian Church 2.0. I'm not hanging with the bougie college kids who worship labor and workers.

I like anarchism because I want to do whatever I want. Period. It is a distinctly egoistic affair for me- think max stirner. That's not to say that I'm going to ignore critical theory stuff entirely (as I myself am a neurodivergent queer). I want to learn about the struggles of POC, queer people, neurodivergent people, et cetera so that I can resist against society and government. However, I don't want to be some kind of liberal politically-correct type that brings up their own identity in unrelated topics because they want to feel important. I'm not a twitter user.

I already know that I can do with concepts whatever I like. If I don't want to be "punk" then that's not going to stop me from being anarchist. People who feel the need to attach themselves to subcultures because they wanna feel correct and agreeable are fuckin' dweebs. What I want to know is what's in it for me. Why should I be "punk?"

OkOk tysm for being so engaged i love when ppl rlly are not afraid to grill me for information

1: Punk is a subculture, with a variety of politics in the scene, united by non-conformity and being anti-establishment / anti-authority.

2: You should in no way have to sacrifice anything about yourself, your style, or your politics to be punk. The whole idea is non-conformity so you do not have to meet any sort of criteria for style, music, or politics except the aforementioned [on a separate note i just answered an ask on punk politics, but could make another more in depth punk politics post on request].

2a: If someone on the scene gives you shit for enjoying showtunes and britpop alongside black flag and x-ray spex then that person is a wanker

2b: If someone in the scene gives you shit for wearing a battle vest with an mcr patch or a logo from a tv show you like alongside your eat the rich stitch-on then that person is a wanker

2c: if someone in the scene gives you shit for being punk in the "wrong way" then they are the one who doesn't understand what it means to be punk. they are, say it with me, a wanker

3: yeah dw, punk is not in any way synonymous w champagne socialist theory purists like you fear, its about action and small acts of resistance and mutual aid more than holding out on doing anything helpful bc it isnt a great communist revolution. we are the revolution

4: I like that you've done your reading. just as an aside.

5: yes I'd say esp nowadays (less so in the 70s) punk is a scene that has a strong focus on queer rights movement. The original punk focuses were more about class and race tensions, but as the subculture has evolved, the fight has become about standing up for anyone getting screwed over by the fuckers on top. you are in the right place for learning about the struggles facing multiple groups and how you can help them for sure

6: fear not, becoming a punk does not mean you have to join twitter

7: "I already know that I can do with concepts whatever I like." Good. You've got the hard part down already.

8: Your final point, on why you should be punk, has a bunch of different answers. Be punk bc its a great gender neutral term of address. Be punk because it'll make it easier for you to find cool ppl u get on with. Be punk bc we have good music. Be punk because DIYing your clothes is very rewarding. Be punk because it's an amazing community. Be punk bc tbfh you seem pretty punk already. You've sort of gone in reverse order to a lot of punks. You really have a good grasp on your own politics and philosophies, and you're clearly anti-conformist. If you want you can now work back into the music, the style, and immersing yourself in the subculture. We would love to have you

Do whatever you like, hope this was helpful

in solidarity :]

[lousirs]

If you could add scenes or change certain designs to the uglydolls movie what would they be ? (Idk alternate institute design or random filler scenes)

For exemple i wish they insisted more onto the « doll school/training » thing.

Or another exemple, i had this idea where instead of Ox finding out bout Moxy and mandy being in danger with the printer thingy, he would’ve (seeing moxy’s missing) suspected Lou done something/has hurt Moxy and while running in the Pipe to the institute, he hears Moxy and mandy screaming for help (would’ve added a lot if you think bout it)

Gotta save this 65mill$ budget 💪💪🤩🤩

good question and wonderful ideas! i very much agree with the ox finding moxy/mandy scene. he should've been worried that he hadn't seen moxy in a while. sure, she was upset, but she is never so quiet... so he goes to check up on her, only to find an empty room, and panic arises. he tells the other uglydolls, and they go around town calling her name. and then ox reaches the sunflower pipe. realisation sinks in: "lou must've gotten her". and so the uglydolls help each other to get up the pipe, and through the darkness there is a faint red glow and screams for help.... dramatic... but maybe a bit too dark for a kids film, who knows xDDD

anywho, i have a lot of things i would change about the movie tbh, but to name a few: (buckle up everyone cause i got a lot to say)

first and foremost GIVE THE UGLYDOLLS (besides moxy and ox) A PURPOSE. babo, wage, luckybat and uglydog are the main characters technically, and yet they serve no purpose. if you removed them, and only had moxy find the institute, nothing would've changed. my fix? allow them to do what they are good at to win over the prettydolls.

from what is shown, i'm guesisng moxy is a reporter, luckybat is a fortune teller (or something like that), wage is a cook, babo is a builder and uglydog is a DJ. so! have luckybat tell the prettydolls fortunes (reading their palms or something idk), have wage cook them a nice meal, have babo build a cool contraption for them and uglydog host a dance party. and all the while, moxy is writing about the institute, life there, how lou is a big ol' meanie head, etc. this would've fixed so much, because in the film, the prettydolls turned on lou so quickly, so GIVE THEM MORE OF A REASON TO besides "ew prototype" and "he kicked a baby!!!". make the prettydolls warm up to the uglydolls, not due to their appearance, but due to who they are inside and what they enjoy doing. make them think that lou is wrong for being so cruel to them.

speaking of this, moxy writing down everything about the institute (perhaps to put into the uglyville newspaper) could be a point of tension! lou doesn't want his reputation to be smeared, so there could be a scene (i'd say after the training montage where lou is further trying to dissuade moxy) where lou tears up all the pages of her notepad, leaving her feeling devastated, but still determined to carry on despite the odds.

the only other point i have about the uglydolls is their designs. i would've loved to see them more like their original counterparts, cause they feel a bit too cutesy to be truly 'ugly' or whatever in the film. especially the stitches around the eyes, they should've kept that!! more of a handcrafted ragdoll look, i suppose!

for the institute... i feel like this is a hot take, but i like how empty it is. kind of shows how empty and artificial trying to be 'perfect' is. the repetitiveness of the institute also works to show that as well... buuut they could've taken it further. perhaps they could've gone for the more city-like area like they did in concept arts, but have it a lot more organised (too organised), so everything feels disorientating. for instance, the dolls houses are all clunked into a square area, same with the training course, etc.

this concept art, although looking sterile, still feels quite open and lively, like that of a big city. so they could make it feel more suffocating? who knows.

(i get that uglyville is quite clustered and tightly packed too, but that feels more like a comfortable closeness)(so the institute could be an uncomfortable closeness)

one scene they could've added for the prettydolls is the spy girls being hesitant to throw moxy and mandy in recycling. their expressions as moxy is going down the pipe shows fear and regret, and yet this brief, and they go back to being fine afterwards??? i get lou not giving a shit, but c'mon girls, you just helped kill two dolls! kidnapping isn't good either, but recycling innocent dolls is on a whole other level.

even if it was just a small piece of dialogue between the girls and lou, it would've worked... like:

"surely you aren't going to actually recycle them? that's way too far lou!"

or

"we didn't agree to this lou! you just told us to take them to you!"

and lou shuts them up and says how they'll be perfect yada yada idk. and that could be a breaking point for the girls, where they begin to distrust lou, because bro's a maniac.

i've mentioned this in a previous post, but i believe that the novel's version of lou and ox's backstory makes a lot more sense, in how lou stepped on the line ox was passing to make it seem like he failed the gauntlet, and the robots dragging ox to recycling. instead of ox making other dolls fail, and lou being like "imma show you recycling now. cya bub"

similarly, mandy getting the audience to coax lou into running the gauntlet makes more sense than him running the gauntlet on his own accord, fully knowing that he would be exposed. yay, peer pressure!

nit-pick here, but i wish they made nolan more 'imperfect' design-wise. although yeah, his hair and eyes are different colours and his uniform is too small, he has no socks and lost a button and has freckles, it all seems too... polished? like, his freckles are just around the cheeks, and although yeah, people can have exactly that irl, i would've loved if they went harder on it. same with his hair, the green parts are in a neat clump, that still matches the hair model of the doll. so fuck it! have him have messy hair with green strands randomly placed on his head, make his freckles heavier, so they cover his arms and legs etc too, make his uniform have hanging out threads and missing parts, etc etc! alsooo further push him having a long neck, small head, being tall, whatever. cause it's barely noticeable... (which i guess works cause lou picks up on the smallest of things but stillll i want a more 'imperfect' nolan xD)

that's all i can think of for now, and the post is long enough as it is sooo yeah xP

[blaperile]

Homestuck: Beyond Canon (reactions pages 554- 576)

Wow, that was quite a heavy update.

I love that we finally got some insight into Yiffy's personality! Feels like she got a lot from Rose there, haha.

Too bad we still don't have dialogue from her yet though, I wonder when we'll get that honour.

But yikes, that tension between Kanaya, Rose and Jade. When Kanaya started putting on her lipstick I got REALLY afraid that the lipstick was going to turn into her chainsaw and that she was going to attack Jade with it. Good thing that didn't happen.

Rose and Kanaya's relationship has gone through a lot across both Meat and Candy!

What's drawing my attention MOST OF ALL though is that shot of Jade's captchalogue card!!

That's clearly a hand with stitches on it… which heavily implies it to be a STUFFED CORPSE. :o

We know Jade and her Grandpa had quite a history with stuffing corpses, so this immediately makes you wonder… whose corpse is this? And just what is the Homestuck Beyond Canon team planning on doing with it?

The most obvious candidate is Candy Dave's corpse! He recently died, from Jade's perspective, and she was most likely the first one to find his corpse. So if her old mannerisms surfaced again, perhaps she immediately stuffed him?

It's kind of a strange pose for this hand, but maybe his corpse is still lying in about the same pose Jade found him in?

If they all end up in a new SBURB session, does this mean we're going to get a new Davesprite???

And what impact would it have on Davebot, if any? Seeing as it's technically Candy Dave's consciousness (in ultimate self form) inhabiting the robot, would it be pulled from the robot into the sprite and cause the robot to explode (just like Aradia experienced when she went God Tier)?

Even the "WEE WOO" text beneath the panel is heavily implying this, using red and orange text, much like Dave and Davesprite's text colors.

An alternate interesting theory raised by abundantChewtoys is that it's Candy Dirk's corpse. I don't think it's very likely considering that they had a funeral for him and all, but it would be another notable corpse here in the candy timeline Jade could technically get her hands on AND it also fits with the text colors (Dirk's orange and Arquiusprite's red).

Finally another excellent point abundantChewtoys raised is that this update made sure to point out that Rose never buried her Mom. But then what DID happen to her body? Was it left on the Battlefield?

I may recall John or pre-retcon Jade having mentioned that they had a funeral for the dead Guardians on the 3-year trip on the Prospitian battleship? I might be remembering that wrong though. I can't find it with the search function, so my mind might be making it up.

But in any case, post-retcon Jade was ALONE on the ship, she had no John or Davesprite with her. So, knowing her family history, it's POSSIBLE she stuffed the corpses of John's Dad and Rose's Mom (and Dave's Bro?)… and that she still has those corpses with her?!

Anyway, most likely it's "just" Candy Dave's corpse, but it's hilarious to think of the other possibilities as well. At least we know for sure it's not a troll corpse considering the white human-like hand, hahahahaha.

I also just want to point out that this green captchalogue card implies this to be Jade's Pictionary modus… which would mean Jade had to DRAW the corpse to captchalogue it… think about that for a minute. Yikes. :(

It's interesting how in both Meat and Candy we currently have someone holding onto a dead corpse (Terezi holding on to John's body and Jade hanging on to this mysterious body who may or may not be Dave). Where is this leading? New Sprites in a SBURB session or something else entirely?

Finally I just want to talk about James Roach his newpost, where he hints one or more [S] pages are upcoming a few months from now!!!

I'm VERY excited about that, but also very curious what it could be about…

Ever since this new creative team took over we've got plenty of updates which seem to be building up to everyone heading to the Plot Point at the meteor. So are we going to get an [S] page featuring an epic confrontation between Jane and the rebels at the meteor, tying up everything that's happened so far in Candy and ending this "Act"?

Maybe that same page will also be the one to finally reveal what the Plot Point truly is. Is it some kind of portal (like from Hiveswap) to the Meat timeline or is it something else entirely?

My mind has been going crazy on theorizing and imagining where this could be going.

If everyone is gathering on the meteor and the Plot Point will activate then and there, what if it will somehow transport the entire meteor to the Meat timeline and have it go to Deltritus??

That would be an absolutely crazy but also amazing way to merge the Meat and Candy storylines into one.

Alternatively, I would find it hilarious if the Candy meteor transports to Meat Earth and it turns out that Calliope and Caliborn grew up there in the distant future (making it a combination of Candy and Meat, which is an appropriate symbol for both Cherubs).