#seeing everyone's work is just so inspiring how could I not ya know?

[amyupup47art]

Inktobertale day 1: Warm-up

Inktobertale day 2: Pumpkin Carving

I am jamming day 1 & 2 together because I CAN!!!!

Ink!sans belongs to comyet

Error!sans belongs to loverofpiggies

[bettyfrommars]

A little something inspired by this edit by @somnambulic-thing of what I imagine as a version of a mechanic!Eddie, but he's also biker!Eddie to me, or anything you want.

mechanic!Eddie x Reader

18+Only, secret work crush, gender neutral reader, just some yearning fluff with mention of weed and alcohol, bit of slut shaming, some sage advice from Wayne.

word count: 1.7k

Eddie had been staring at the door to the office and zoning out for a while when you opened it to step into the bay, and his unblinking gaze accidentally lingered at your midsection.

“What’s wrong?” You glanced down at your outfit, thinking maybe your zipper was open or something worse. There were three other mechanics besides Eddie there that day, each of them knee deep in the hustle and bustle of the busy season.  A boombox on one of the tall, red cubbies blasted hard rock while an electric drill buzzed.  

His attention snapped back to the bolt he was crouched down to tighten on the rim of a Ford Bronco.  

“Nothing,” he grunted, cranking the ratchet so that the muscles on his tattooed bicep bulged. He had on his signature summer uniform of black coveralls with the sleeves ripped off.  His hair was tied back in a pony with a navy-blue bandana on his head, making it easier to slip his welding helmet on and off.  “I didn’t know you were working today.”

Now, that was a big fat lie.  Spotting your car in the parking lot when he came in every morning was one of those things that set his day right.  You’d taken Thursday off the week before, and he’d moped around in a bad mood for the entire shift.  

Almost four months you’d been working in the office, and he still hadn’t summoned the nerve to ask you out.  Instead, he drank too much after a show at the Hideout one night and ended up letting some random chick crawl all over him.  The next day, the guys he worked with would make it sound more serious than it actually was.

“Soooo Munson, I heard you got lucky with Deep Throat Dana last night. They say she can suck an orange out of a tailpipe!” 

And then the entire shop broke out into wheezing laughter like a bunch of hyenas, as if something funny was said.

It made him cringe, and he cast a side glance to see if you were within earshot.  “Nothing happened with that girl,” he wanted to say to you.  “We kissed, but I just couldn’t…ya know?”

But also, why did he feel the need to explain himself to you? It was as if he was being faithful to a dream.  You’d never give him the time of day out in the real world.  Sure, you knew just how he liked his coffee, and you asked him questions about DnD and his band as if you were interested.  But, you were just being nice—he could tell.  At first he thought he was special, but quickly realized that you treated everyone the same.  You were, in fact, a thoughtful, likable person.  Surely your only interest in him was as co-workers, nothing more.  

Also, he could hear Wayne’s voice in his head: “Don’t shit where you eat, son.” 

It was his uncle's long-standing advice to never get involved with a coworker, and Eddie just happened to agree.  If he was ever lucky enough to take you on a few dates and then you dumped him or broke his heart, he wasn’t sure he could work at the garage anymore.  On the bright side, he also had a CDL to operate heavy equipment, so maybe that would be his cue to become a long-haul trucker.  

Deep breath Munson, you’re getting way ahead of yourself.

You hesitated in the doorway for a beat with Mrs. Chadwick’s paperwork for the Oldsmobile sedan in your hand, wanting to ask Eddie how his day was going.  But then he sank down onto the creeper and rolled under the vehicle as if to avoid you in a hurry.  

You really didn’t know what to make of him. 

One second, you’d be certain he was flirting, but then later that day, he’d huff out the door without even so much as a wave. He’d tease you about things, like your collection of random motel pens or the music you liked, and then you’d give the energy right back and wait for that gremlin smile to spread across his face. 

The other day, he’d left your favorite candy bar on the desk for you to find.  You knew it was him because he was the only one in Hawkins you’d told.  How the topic of sweets came up, you weren’t sure, but you’d never forget the curious narrowing of his eyes when he asked which one you liked best.

You had this strange feeling that he was secretly studying you.

The other night you were sitting across from your friend Tina, having burgers and beers at The Hideaway, when Eddie just happened to breeze in.

Your heart stuttered, whatever you’d been saying dying on your lips, completely losing your train of thought. The vinyl in the booth squeaked as you craned your neck to watch him. That was the first time you’d ever seen him in street clothes without coveralls on, and it was raining, so his long hair was soaked.  He greeted the woman at the cash register, and you were too far away to hear, but apparently he was there to pay and pick up his takeout order in a big brown sack with greasy handprints on it.  You thought about waving him down to ask if he wanted to join the two of you, but he did his business in a hurry and didn’t seem to want to be noticed.

“What’s going on?” Tina asked, gaze darting from you to the Dio patch on Eddie’s back as he exited the building.  She munched a french fry before wiping ketchup off her lip.  “Did something happen between you and Eddie?”

You snapped a look at her.  “You know him?”

“Well, not intimately,” she ate another fry.  “But I went to school with him, and bought weed from him a few times.”

“He sells weed?” You cocked an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised.

“It’s been like, a while, but maybe he still does.  How do you know him?”

“We work together,” you brought the half-eaten burger up for a bite and paused there.  “I think he hates me.”

“I highly doubt that.” And then she stared pointedly at you when she said, “he’s cute,” with a knowing smirk. 

“Ha,” you adjusted the napkin on your lap. “Well, as you know, I plan to stay single for the rest of my life.”

“Sure, sure.”

When it got closer to 6 that day, you scrambled to get off the phone with a customer, worried Eddie might slip out again and you wouldn’t see him for the entire weekend. After hiding in the supply closet for a full minute to avoid Phil—one of the other mechanics who liked to talk your ear off—you finally made it to the break room, panting as if you’d just run a marathon.

Eddie was there, bent over to snatch a Pepsi out of the vending machine.  Freezing in place, you suddenly forgot how to form words.

Eddie felt like an idiot, like for sure you’d caught on to the fact that he’d been finding shit to do for the past half hour just so he could be there to have some private time with you.  He didn’t like the idea of you closing up the shop by yourself, especially now that it was getting darker sooner. 

And then fucking Phil wouldn’t leave. His wife had relatives visiting, and he was shuffling around like a sad puppy trying to avoid going home.  Eddie had to pretend he needed to take a shit just to get rid of him, and was halfway surprised the dude didn’t follow him into the bathroom.

He usually brought his own lunch, but the snack and soda machines were always tempting.  He knew how to open the damn things up and thought about doing some last minute grocery shopping to make up for his crappy wage.  

You cleared your throat.  “So, what are you up to this weekend?  Any fun plans?”

Eddie pulled his shoulders back and spun around at the sound of your voice, fisting the can in one hand and running the other through his hair.  He’d been growing his bangs out, and they were just long enough to tuck behind his ears.  The length was so fucking annoying at times that he’d often considered chopping them to nubs.    

You were smiling at him, eyes bright and sincere, and it made him feel all fuzzy inside like his brain was made of cotton candy.

“My day was good. You?” That was what came out of his mouth, and then he let out a silent, internal scream that made his ears ring. 

But he recovered quickly. “I mean, I don’t have any plans.  I don’t usually have…I mean, my buddy Jeff and I might go see a movie, but not like major plans.”  He didn’t want to tell you he was taking a trip out to Rick’s on Sunday to beef up his supply for weekly customers.  He sure as hell couldn’t restore the van on the chump change he made at the garage. 

You stared at him intently, softening when you realized he was nervous.  

How could that be?  Did you make him nervous?

You pulled a folded piece of paper out of your back pocket and held it up.  “I found this at the laundromat.  It says your band is playing at The Hideout on Tuesday.  Is that still happening?”

Pinched between your thumb and forefinger was one of the handmade fliers Gareth had helped him make.  

“Well we…yes-–” he cracked open the lid of the soda and it fizzed everywhere, dripping down his arm and onto the linoleum floor. “Shit, I’ll clean that up, don’t worry.”

He didn’t want you to get stuck having to get the mop out to clean again, so he put the leaking can down on the lunch table and went over to grab something to wipe it up.  

He busied himself with sopping up the mess, albeit poorly, while you inched closer.

“I think I might stop by and check you guys out,” you saw that his face was red when he stood, chocolate orbs lit up in anticipation.  “Maybe we could have a beer or something after?”

His cotton candy brain tried to filter his next thought, but it was too late.  “What are you doing tonight?”

“Tonight?” You blinked a few times.  “Is your band playing somewhere tonight too?”

“No, but I—” the tip of his tongue slipped side to side between his lips.  “If you’re not busy tonight maybe we could go somewhere to eat or drink or hang out or something.”

“Or something,” a grin quivered in the corner of your mouth. 

And then the two of you were just standing there, close enough for your breathing to fall into sync. Gathering up a nice helping of nerve, you reached an arm out and ran the back of your knuckles down the front of his shirt.

Eddie was vibrating.

Don’t shit where you eat, son.

No disrespect Uncle, but fuck the job.

“Anything," he said softly, hope blossoming in his chest like those wildly palpitating hearts in cartoons.  “Anything you want.”

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

hello could you write a fic for miles42 having an airhead gf like shes his opposite (kind, always smiling, extroverted but shes a bit blunt) !! for the fic u can do wtv u want tbh !! but if u dont have any inspiration u could do something about her meeting miles42’s mom nd uncle or, him taking his gf on a date or wtv u want bc idk if my ideas are good lmaoo

(Hello! Sure I can and here ya go! Enjoy!)

Earth 42!Miles Morales x Opposite!Reader

It's so funny how you guys even ended up getting together

You both obviously clash but oddly work out well together

Even Miles was surprised he ended up with you

"Blink twice if he kidnapped you, kid."

Words of Uncle Aaron the first time he met you

When Uncle Aaron and his mother met you, they probably thought he was gonna be with someone who matched him, probably Emo or at least similar to him

And to their surprise, and his mother's joy

You walked into the door!

His mother thinks your good for Miles, she sees you're able to get him to smile more, he's happier and she sometimes sees specks of Miles before his dad died come back

Even if Miles is surprised at himself he really does love you

He needs someone like you in his life

Walking down the street hand in hand people would never think that you guys were together

Even in photos, you're smiling, it always seems like he has a permanent frown on his face until out come along

It always looks like two completely different photos, but no

He warns you about being kind to everyone though, as he noticed is a habit of yours

Brooklyn isn't safe, everyone knows that and you could get hurt because you're too kind

You're kinda an airhead also

You once followed a man into his house because he said he had cats and she had kittens

Don't worry, the man was a kind and older man but the principle still stands

Miles noticed you're sorta an airhead, not a bad thing but something he looks out for you for

But he truly does love how much you care for him, his mom and even Uncle Aaron

When you guys first met he was a little suspicious

Just because he wasn't used to that in Brooklyn anymore

You were also incredibly blunt

He found it funny at first when it was at other people

He gets kinda frozen and can't help but sigh when it's directed at him

He thought Uncle Aaron would not like you when he brought you home

Not him mom

But you did great!

He didn't even need to warn you about calling his mom by her first name

He's gotta get used to you being so extroverted

Especially because now he is more closed off and likes to keep to himself more

Especially being the Prowler

But when you want to do anything and everything, social and make friends

He's the one looking over your shoulder and directing you away from assholes

He loves you, but he doesn't want you being hurt

You got them scary boyfriend privileges

I think you guys make a great pair

Miles was initially hesitant to introduce you to his mom and Uncle Aaron, but you wore him down.

So that's how he stood in the hallway of his own apartment like the guest, as his mother already liked you.

Plus, you didn't call her by her first name.

"Aye, you're so pretty, Mija." Miles' mother smiled at you, getting a genuine one back as she stood next to you, glancing at Miles.

"Oh, ¿cómo te las arreglaste?" Mrs. Morales started, her son blushed as he stood behind you, watching his mom practically flaunt around you.

"Mom!" Miles complained, Mrs. Morales waving him off with an eye roll.

"How did you meet my son of all people, hon?" Mrs. Morales asked, guiding you to the kitchen as you followed behind her, laughing under your breath.

"Well, I was walking to Mr. Gonzalez's bakery, and I was in line but I looked outside," you started, Miles freezing in embarrassment at the upcoming story as Uncle Aaron laughed.

"I saw Miles standing there in the window, but he was just staring at me?" You said, a confused tone in your voice as Miles could hear his mom chuckle.

"Anyway, I smiled at him and he sorta jumped. He…sorta smiled back? It was a little loopy but then he turned away real quick, but he tripped."

"Oh, man…" Uncle Aaron laughed, wrapping an arm around his nephew's shoulder as Miles looked down, blushing thankfully hidden as he hid his face in his shirt.

"He fell sorta hard so I went outside to help him, and yeah!" You smiled, Miles shaking his head as Uncle Aaron elbowed him.

"Stop…" Miles muttered, turning around to head to the kitchen as Uncle Aaron couldn't keep in his laugh any more.

Hey, you said it how it was.

Miles may complain about it, but seeing how you were sitting on the counter talking to his mom with a smile on his face, he couldn't complain about it much.

[intoxicated-chan]

i just read a corruption kink daryl and im feral- PLEASE WRITE

𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧❜, 𝐃𝐨𝐧❜𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐞, 𝐈𝐭❜𝐬 𝐎𝐤𝐚𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞

Summary ➳ The second Daryl learned that you were a virgin, all shame flew out the window. Not like he had any to begin with.

(A/n) ➳ Inspired by “Worship Me” by Ari Abdul. I’m feeling more confident in writing smut. Am I an expert? Hell no! But I like it! I hope you guys like it too! This is also a mix of two requests!

Word Count ➳ 860

Content Warnings ➳ Female Reader, perverted Daryl, sexual content, loss of virginity, swearing, pet names (darlin’), titty sucking, oral (F), p-in-v, unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP DAMMIT), creampie…

“Ya serious?” Daryl grabbed the sides of your face and forced you to look at him. “C���mon, ya ne’er used ya fingers?”

Daryl hummed. “Why the hell not?”

You shrugged. “Everyone said it would be painful.”

“Ya did nothin’? Anythin’?”

“...Nothin’.” You whispered.

Daryl grinned. “Say it again.”

“Nothin’.”

“Louder.”

“Nothin’!”

Daryl’s hand traveled down your chest, pulling at the buttons of your pants. “Looks like ya can listen.”

Your hands covered your flushed face, your hot breath made everything feel like everything was one fire.

Your back arched off the bed, but Daryl remained on your chest, sucking and biting at one of your nipples while he twisted and pulled at the other.

You whimpered in your hands, a barely audible sound. Your shirt was pushed over your breasts and he laid in between your legs.

You felt his hard on grinding against your soaked cunt. You had tried begging… Hours ago.

But Daryl was so focused on your breasts, they were becoming painfully sore. He refused everytime you tanked at his hair, laughing at your misery that he took pleasure in.

He finally lifted his head, snatching your hands. “Lookin’ pretty.” He mumbled.

He sat up, kicking off his pants and underwear, revealing his cock.

He started to jerk himself off, his other hand sliding down your stomach and slowly rubbed your clothed clit with your thumb.

You let out gasp, looking down to see his hand in between your legs. “F-Fuck.”

“Feel that?” He asked you. “Feelin’ good?”

You attempted to sit up, reaching for his hand which made him stop. “I… I wanna make you feel good.”

He clicked his tongue. “Not tonight darlin’. Not tonight.”

“Please Daryl-” He leaned over and kissed you, shutting you up.

“Ya talk too much.” His hand slid under your underwear. “Jus’ relax, let me do the work.” Daryl pushed you back on the bed. “Jus’ relax.” He repeated.

Your eyes stared at the ceiling, hearing Daryl rip off your underwear, feeling the coldness hit your cunt. His fingers lightly trace the outside of your lips.

Suddenly, you feel him dragging his tongue up the length of your slit, he needed to hold back, no matter how much he wanted to break you.

Fuck, you were delicious and he takes it, he takes all of it. He shoved passed your slit and into the cavern of your cunt, lapping up everything.

He could feel your thighs trembling, your hands coming to his hair as something to pull on as the most pornographic moans left your lips.

It was music to his ears.

He wasn’t going to lie. He has been waiting for this moment for a while now. He watched as some of your clothing would ride up and reveal your skin.

How he would take glances at your cleavage or your ass. And those days where you would wear nothing but your underwear under your skirt and you walked up the stairs, he was always behind, his eyes on your panties.

Daryl withdrew his tongue, wiping his mouth and licking off your remaining essence.

He lined himself up. “Deep breaths baby.” He told you before pushing himself.

He gritted his teeth, fuck, he never imagined for you to be so tight. You were sucking him deeper.

You moaned rather loudly and Daryl felt you clench around him, letting you know you had cum.

You moaned into his ear, your nails digging into his back.

Daryl couldn’t hold back anymore, he was pounding into you, roughly.

He panted, he couldn’t get enough. The way your walls clamp up around him. He heard your moans, how they became higher, weakly hitting your fists on his back.

He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, he wanted more and more, he wanted you to feel it with him.

You have your legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer to your body,

Yet he was still careful when kissing you, it was soft unlike the sex.

And the room reeked of it, it was hot, filled with the sound of skin slapping and your moans.

Daryl blocked out everything else other than you. His eyes shut, his head resting on the pillow.

He flinched when he felt you planting kisses on his neck, managing to whisper sweet words that weren’t cut off by provocative moans.

With another slam of his hips, everything came crashing down, your next sentence cut off by a scream.

Daryl let out a loud grunt as he released inside of you. You felt him fill you to the brim.

When Daryl pushed himself up and slowly pulled out of you, hearing a wince. He saw some of it oozing out.

He chuckled. “Fuck.” He grabbed the back of your knees to spread him, watching closely.

“Daryl!” You shouted, covering yourself. “Don’t!”

“C’mon, ain’t no reason to be embarrassed.” He commented, letting go of your legs. He got off the bed, helping you sit up. “Any pain?”

“You brutalized my chest.” You hissed, carefully putting on your shirt.

“Couldn’t help maself.” Daryl planted a kiss on your shoulder. “Besides, always been wantin’ to hear ya scream.”

“You’re shameless Dixon.”

“For ya? Always.”

© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission.

Taglist ➳ @celtic-crossbow , @mrdixon , @itwasntaphasema , @duffmckagansbandana , @raspberryslxt , @gamingfeline , @lor-geeked , @thegeorgiahuntsman , @snailss , @the-lonely-abyss , @number1bashbabe , @xmaeyonaise , @suniloli , @ladylincoln , @of-storms-and-sadness , @annhells ,

[rynwritesstuff]

Unknown

Billy The Kid x Reader

Warnings: Feisty!Reader, General outlaw stuff (guns, cursing, threats), Mentions of sex work/brothels, Smut (PIV sex, unprotected sex, rough sex), Hint of fluff, Imprisonment, Jailbreak

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: After discovering Billy Antrim one night, you persuade him to travel with you. A wild and interesting adventure ensues.

Author's Note: I've spent the past several weeks reading the most incredible Billy x Reader fics, and I wanted to try my hand at writing for him. I wanted to tag a few of my favorite Billy writers, because they have inspired me to give this a try. (Thank you @billysgun @atrwriting and @goosita you guys are incredible, I admire you so much, keep doing what you're doing <3)

“It ain’t the being alone. It ain’t the empty home, baby, you know I’m good on my own. You know, it’s more the being unknown. So much of the living, love, is the being unknown.” - Unknown / Nth, Hozier

When he hears it – the footsteps – Billy’s head snaps to the side. A million thoughts run through his head. Robbers, outlaws, all-around no good men . . . They could be anywhere. They could be everywhere. Slowly, carefully, he reaches for the gun at his hip. He barely has time to touch it before the sound of a gun cocking comes from behind him. He pauses. 

“Don’t. Move,” comes your voice. Billy swallows harshly as he freezes. It’s dark aside from the campfire in front of him and the moon and stars sparkling in the sky. Billy keeps his breathing even and steady as footsteps come closer. 

“I need money,” you say.

“You’ve got the wrong man, miss,” Billy says, unmoving. “I’ve got nothin’.”

“Food, then. Got any food?” 

Billy nods towards the small pot beside the fire. 

“There’s a bit left over there.”

You circle him, and when you do, he catches a glimpse of your face, slightly shielded by an old hat. Your hair is pulled back and you wear men’s clothing. Your too-big boots thud against the grass. Even like this, Billy can tell that you're beautiful, the kind of beautiful that would bring a God-fearing man to his knees. 

You keep your gun pointed at him as you look down into the pot and then back up at BIlly. 

“It’s not enough.” 

“It’s what I’ve got.” 

“You’re lying,” you say easily. “You’re in the middle of nowhere, there’s no way you came this far with so little food. You think I’m an idiot, boy?” 

“No,” Billy shakes his head. “I mean it. That’s the last of my food.” 

You chuckle dryly, then approach Billy. 

“Keep your hands up,” you warn. You tug his gun from his holster, then step back towards the fire. Billy is now completely unarmed. He couldn’t shoot you even if he wanted to. You crouch down beside the pot. It’ll have to do, you decide, and reach in with your bare hand to scoop up the beans and bring them to your mouth. You sigh. They’re salty and warm and earthy, and they soothe the ache in your stomach. 

Billy moves slightly, you see him out of the corner of your eye, and you bring your gun up again. He freezes. 

“I was just shiftin’,” he tells you. Wordlessly, you look back down at the pot and continue to eat. Billy watches you curiously. Where are you coming from? Where are you going? And, perhaps most importantly, who are you on the run from? 

“Billy the Kid,” you say finally, wiping your hand on the grass as you get to your feet. “Hm. I didn’t recognize you at first.” 

“Do I know you?” Billy asks. 

“No. But damn near everyone in the West knows you. Ya shouldn’t be surprised.” You slowly make your way over to his horse. You open his saddle bag as Billy turns to watch you. You pull out his shotgun, humming to yourself. You set it aside, and Billy’s heart begins to race. 

“The ring,” he says quickly, making you pause, “please don’t take it. It was my ma’s.”

You halt. How strange it is, to hear William Antrim speak so desperately. You stare at him as you pull the small gold band from his bag. You hold it in your palm, and Billy watches you with a pained expression. 

“Please. She’s gone, she’s dead. It’s all I got left of ‘er.”

You shake your head. 

“I’m not heartless, Billy,” you say, and Billy nearly laughs. No, woman holding me at gunpoint, he thinks. Of course you’re not.

“I’ve lost people, too,” you tell him. You toss the ring to him, and he catches it, clutching it tightly. “I’ll advise you to keep it closer to you, though. People like me aren’t always so understanding.” 

You go back to digging through his bag but don't find much; an apple, a pocket watch, a few shirts and a pair of pants. You huff, keeping only the apple, and shove everything back into the saddle bag, including the shotgun. 

“You’re shit out of luck, Billy,” you say, stepping towards him as you bite into the apple. You wipe a bit of juice from the corner of your mouth. “No food, no water–” 

“I have water.” 

“Oh, well excuse me, then. I apologize,” you say sarcastically. Billy clenches his jaw. You sit down a good five feet away from Billy, gun still in-hand as you eat the apple. 

“God, fuck,” you breathe. Billy glances at you. “Haven’t had fruit in a month.”

“Neither have I,” Billy says flatly. 

“Mm. As I was sayin’ . . . You’re kinda fucked right now. Where’re you headed?” 

“I don’t know yet.” 

“Liar,” you say. You’re confident while you have the gun in your hand, and although you know that Billy could scramble for his shotgun, you also know that you could blow his head off before he got there. If he tries something, anything, he’s a dead man. He must know it, too.

“The next town over,” Billy says finally. “I need somewhere to stay for a while.”

“It’s about fifteen miles East,” you say. You bite into the apple again. “You know where you’re going? How to get there?” 

“I prefer to travel alone,” Billy says as he watches you. For a moment, a small, brief, fleeting moment, he wonders what you look like beneath the tattered button-up shirt. He’s only slept with a handful of women, and it’s been a long while since he’s touched himself, much less had someone else touch him. He swallows harshly. 

You lap your tongue over the dripping apple to gather the juice, then speak. 

“Right. Well, I need a man to come with me East. Nobody takes women seriously in that town, I was there a while back.” 

“Surely you don’t want to risk being recognized, then,” Billy says. You chuckle. 

“Unlike you, Antrim, I’m moving from town to town by choice. I've got nothing to hide.”

Well. That seems to answer Billy’s questions. He sighs, then looks away. Perhaps this is a good thing. Maybe a woman is what he needs. A fiery, feisty woman who will try to keep him in-line. 

“What’s in it for me?” he asks. 

You shrug.

“Money, probably. Food. A roof over your head.” 

“Until I get caught.” 

“I’ll try to keep you out of trouble if you promise to try, too.”��

Billy looks over at you. 

“I don’t even know your name.” 

You smile softly, looking at him kindly for the first time all evening. You tell him your name, and when you do, he tests how it feels to say it. You nod. 

“Right,” you say. “Ya got it.” 

Billy hums. 

“This doesn’t mean I trust you,” he says. 

“No,” you say, tossing him back his gun. “I’d hope not. You wouldn’t be a very good outlaw if you trusted someone that easily.”

Billy slips his gun back into his holster, feeling better now that he has his firearm again. You take another bite of the apple. 

“Let’s leave at dawn,” you tell him. Billy still isn’t completely convinced that this is a good idea, but he doesn’t want to argue. He doesn’t want to upset you or set you off.

“Fine,” he says. You nudge him. 

“Where are those manners you had a bit ago?” you tease, tossing the apple core aside. “‘Miss’ and ‘ma’am’. Your mama raised you right.”

“Yes, ma’am, she did,” Billy says, offering you a small, teasing smile.

***

Dawn comes, as it always does. You wake before Billy, and take it upon yourself to tidy up his things from the night before. The pot is washed and the fire is out when Billy’s eyes open, and he glances around for a moment. He sees you, and you offer him a nod. 

“Get up,” you tell him as you guide his horse over. “I’d like to get there as soon as possible.” 

Billy groans softly as he sits up on the blanket that separates him from the grass.

“You don’t have a horse? You came all this way on foot?” 

You sigh, leaning against Billy’s horse. 

“She got stolen a few miles back,” you say. “I was surprised they didn’t get yours, too.”

“Mm. Sorry to hear that,” he says as he folds up the blanket and attaches it to his saddle bag. You shake your head. 

“Not much that can be done about it now. Ya ready to go, Billy?”

He nods as he puts on his hat and approaches his horse. He holds his hand out to you and helps you up onto the saddle. He knows that you can get up yourself, but you shouldn’t have to do such a thing. Not when there’s a man around to help you.

Knowing that you won’t both fit on the saddle, Billy decides to walk. You watch him as he guides his horse. The muscles in his strong arms flex as he goes, and you find yourself staring at him more than the scenery around you. You know what this likely means, of course, but you don’t want to think about it. 

You don’t want to complicate things. 

Hours pass. The pair of you reach a town. Dust is kicked up as Billy’s horse trots through, and people bustle busily. You glance around. People stare at the two of you, and you wonder if it’s because they recognize Billy, or perhaps you from when you were here previously. You wipe sweat from your brow. 

“There’s a brothel that way,” you say, pointing to the right. “Rooms are cheap there.” 

“I thought you didn’t have much money,” Billy says, guiding his horse in the direction you pointed in. 

“I don’t,” you say. “But I have enough for us to stay somewhere for a week or so.”

You hear Billy sigh, and you clench your jaw. 

“You got a better idea?” you ask. 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“You didn’t have to.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothin’. Don’t worry about it,” you say. Men are so finicky, you think. You arrive at the brothel just after noon, and you get off the horse. Billy goes to follow you, and you hold your hand up. 

“Don’t. You’ll get swarmed by whores. Just stay here, let me do the talking.” 

Billy’s brow furrows slightly. 

“What if there’s trouble?” he asks. You tap the gun holstered at your hip. 

“I can handle myself.”

Without another word, you head into the brothel. You locate the owner and speak to her about a room for you and your friend. Just as you remembered, the rooms are cheap, cheap enough for you to rent a room for longer than you thought you’d be able to. You pay the owner, then step back outside. 

“Get our stuff,” you tell Billy. “I’ll take your horse to the stable.” 

Wordlessly, Billy obeys, gathering the bags before you lead his horse around the building. He steps inside. Just as you predicted, a few whores approach him. 

They gush at him, telling him how incredibly handsome he is, and how he must be tired, and how he looks like he needs a good blowjob. He politely turns them down, his cheeks warming slightly. One of the whores, a blonde woman, runs her hand over his chest. He tries not to stare at her bare breasts. 

“You stayin’ awhile?” she asks. Billy nods. She hums. “Come n’ see me sometime, won’t ya?” 

Billy offers her a kind smile. 

“I’m a busy man, I’m afraid. Don’t have time for that.” 

He hears footsteps behind him, and moments later, he’s being tugged towards the stairs of the brothel. 

“Told ya they’d flock to you,” you say as you and Billy go up to the room. You unlock the door. 

“They’re just doing their job,” he says as he steps into the room and sets the bags down. You sigh as you re-lock the door. You put your hands on your hips as you walk around the room, inspecting it. It’s not nice by any means, but it’s a roof over your head and a bed to sleep in, and that’s enough for now.

“I’ll take the floor,” he offers. You glance at him. “Y’know. When we sleep.” 

You shake your head with a sigh as you take off your hat. 

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but I don’t particularly care if we share a bed,” you say. Billy doesn’t say anything. You glance at him. He’s staring at you. “What?” 

Just as he had noticed last night, you’re beautiful. And if you look this nice like this, he can only imagine what you’d look like all dolled up, or even just freshly bathed. He wonders what it would be like to touch you, to feel you beneath him, to have your body canting up towards his. 

He shakes his head slightly. 

“Nothing. Just . . . Nothing.” 

“If you want the floor, you can have it–” 

“No, no, I don’t mind either,” he says. You sit down at the edge of the bed, then lie back on it with a drawn-out sigh. 

“I’m gonna sleep good tonight,” you chuckle. Billy finds himself smiling softly. 

“Is it comfortable?” he asks. You laugh again. 

“Not at all, but it’s better than the ground.”

Billy approaches the bed and sits down beside you, leaving a gap between your bodies. He bounces a bit, and the bed frame squeaks. He hums as he stops.

“Well?” you ask, looking up at him. 

“You’re right, it’s awful.”

You hum, rubbing your eyes. 

“I know.” You sigh. “Why don’t you go downstairs and eat?”

“What’re you gonna do?” he asks. 

“Take a bath,” you say. Billy nods. He knows he should bathe too, especially if he’s going to be sleeping beside you, but he’s so, so hungry . . . 

“I’ll go after you, then,” he says, getting to his feet. “You know where to find me if you need anything.”

“Hang on.” 

Billy pauses, glancing back at you as you sit up. You gesture for him to come back towards the bed. He obliges. There is a foot or so of space between your bodies, and you look up at him with a twinkle in your eye. You know what you want to tell him, but you don’t know how to say it. You know what you want to do, but you don’t know how to get there. 

“You’re the most handsome outlaw I’ve dealt with, y’know,” you say finally, voice soft. Billy is surprised but most certainly not disappointed. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. 

“How many outlaws have you dealt with?” Billy asks. 

“Quite a few.” 

He hums. 

“I suppose that means I should be thanking you, then," he says. You reach out and tug on his belt loops, pulling him closer. You put your hands on his hips and look up at him. 

“Yes. You should.”

Billy leans down a bit. 

“Thank you, then, miss,” he says quietly. You feel his breath against you, and you let out a soft sigh as heat blooms between your thighs. Hesitantly, you bring your hand up to touch his cheek. You feel the stubble near his chin and jaw as you look into his eyes. 

“Can I–?” 

“You don’t even havta ask,” Billy tells you softly. He leans forward and presses his lips against yours. You inhale sharply as you pull him closer. He kisses you hungrily, desperately, like a man dying. You touch him wherever you can: His cheeks, his jaw, the sides of his throat, his shoulders. He gets on top of you as you scoot back on the bed. You keep one of your hands on the back of his head, which ensures that his lips stay pressed against yours while the two of you move and adjust. 

Billy tosses his hat to the side, and once he’s done that, you tug at his suspenders. You push them off of his shoulders, and you spread your legs a bit more to make room for him to comfortably fit between them. He kisses you again, hot and heavy, and you moan against his lips. 

“Please,” you sigh. He nods as he unbuttons your shirt. 

“I’ve got ya,” Billy reassures you. You kiss him as a sense of safety and security washes over you. He’s got you. He’s got you. You let him unbutton your shirt, and when your breasts are revealed, he leans down to kiss at them. You sigh at the feeling of his chapped lips on your smooth skin. You shrug the shirt all the way off so that your torso is bare, then run your fingers through his dark curls. 

“Billy,” you sigh, eyes fluttering. He hums. You want to touch him, to feel his skin against yours. You grab his collar and pull him back up so you can kiss him. You fumble with his buttons, and when you get his shirt off, you yank off his undershirt, too. You grip his bare shoulders, your hands running down to his biceps. 

“Fuck,” you breathe. He smiles softly. 

“Like what ya see?” he asks. You nod. 

“Sure do,” you tell him. When he stands back to undo his trousers, you quickly kick off your boots and stand up to push down your pants to leave you nude. You get on the bed once you’re naked, and when Billy looks back up at you, cock in-hand, he makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, a sound of pleasure. You smile as you spread your legs, feeling a bit bashful but excited nonetheless. 

Billy says your name, then. It’s a whisper, a sigh, a prayer. He gets back on top of you, and his dripping cock presses against you as he leans down to kiss you. You groan. 

“I want you inside me,” you tell him, giving his hair a gentle tug. He nods, pressing his tip against your entrance. He looks up at you, silently asking for permission, and you smile softly. 

“Billy, I love that you’re bein’ a gentleman, but I really need you to ruin me right now. We can be polite to each other later, okay?” you tell him. This makes him chuckle, a quiet, hearty sound, and he nods. 

“Okay,” he says, pushing his tip in. “Understood.”

You hum, hands moving down to his biceps. You grip him tightly as he pushes in further. 

“Oh, fuck, Billy . . .” 

“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head. 

“No, no, just go slow at first. Ease it in, y’know?”

Billy nods. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he breathes teasingly, pushing in further. Your wetness coats his cock easily, and he groans at the feeling of your wet heat engulfing him. “Jesus ffffuckin’ . . .”

Your grip on him tightens as he pushes his cock all the way inside of you. You moan softly as his tip presses against the sweet spot inside of you. 

“Oh, god,” you hum. “Mm, Billy . . . Move . . .” 

His hand fits into the space where your neck meets your shoulder, and he holds you there as he begins to roll his hips. He is slow at first, gentle, but his pace quickly picks up. The bed frame creaks and groans, and you moan loudly.

“How is it?" he asks breathily, wanting to hear your praise.

“F-Feels good,” you groan as he hits that sweet spot. Your legs and thighs tremble. Your breasts bounce. Your heart races. Billy’s body is firm and strong above you, and his hold on you tightens. You lean up to kiss him, moaning against his lips. 

“So needy,” Billy says against your mouth. You moan. “Mm. S-So wet for me . . . Needed this bad, didn’t ya?”

You nod, clinging to him as if you’re the only thing keeping him here, as if he could disappear at any moment and leave you aching for more. 

“Ohmygod, Billy . . . F-Faster, I need it faster . . .”

“Mm . . . Ask nicely . . .”

His words go straight to your core, and you clench around him just to hear him grunt. You reach up to tug at his hair, and he turns his head to suck at your jaw. You let him. 

“Please,” you sigh. “P-Please, Billy . . . Make me f-feel good . . . Fuck me f-faster . . .”

Billy hums as he pulls away from your jaw. 

“Atta girl,” he breathes. He’s pounding you, now, fucking you so hard that you begin to worry that the damn bed with break. People can probably hear you, but it’s a fucking brothel, you remind yourself, and you cry out loudly. Your face is hot as Billy’s hips slam against yours. He’s grunting and groaning, and his brows are furrowed in pleasure, and you’re positive that it’s the most wonderful thing you’ve ever seen. 

“Oh, fffffuck. Billy, B-Billy, Billy . . .”

“Mm, that’s it,” he groans lowly. “Let everyone know who it is that’s makin’ you feel good.”

Your grip on his hair tightens, and he bites and sucks at your throat as he chases his orgasm quickly. Clumsily and shakily, you reach down between your bodies to rub your clit. Your hips jerk and tears of pleasure fill your eyes as you begin to rub yourself hurriedly. You know Billy is close – his thrusts are getting sloppy – and you want to cum, too.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Billy admits. He reaches for your hand that isn’t on your clit, which surprises you. His fingers intertwine with yours, and he pins you down. He’s holding my hand. He’s about to cum, and he’s holding my hand, you think. Somehow, this small act feels more intimate than anything else the two of you have done in the past several minutes. 

“Billy . . . ‘M gonna cum,” you breathe. He nods against you. 

“Do it,” he says, encouraging you. “Please. Wanna feel it.”

You close your eyes and tilt your head back. Billy kisses and nibbles at your throat again, his thrusts get harder and faster, and you apply a bit more pressure to the circles you’re rubbing on your clit–

“Oh, fuck!” you cry out loudly. Your body tenses for a moment before you relax against the mattress, pleasure coursing through you. Heat moves over you like a blanket, warming you from head to toe. You’re shaking, trembling as Billy takes you through it. 

Before you know it, he’s moaning in your ear and pulling his cock from your pussy. He jerks himself off for one second, two, three, and then he’s cumming on your stomach with a cry of your name. You watch him fall apart above you, and you never were a religious person, but this? This sight is enough to bring you to your knees. You’d worship him if it were an option. That glow, that body, that smile . . . It makes you want to weep.

Billy grunts, stroking himself until his orgasm is over, and he shakily lies down beside you with a huff. You stare up at the ceiling, still catching your breath as his arm touches yours. The reality of what the two of you have just done hits you. You just fucked Billy Antrim. And you liked it. 

You look over at him. He’s already staring. You smile. 

“Good?” he asks. You nod. 

“So good.”

He hums and wipes a bit of sweat from your brow. 

“I didn’t think a woman like you would wanna be taken like that,” he says gently. You have to give it to him, he really is a gentleman. Even after you held him at gunpoint, and told him to escort you here, and bossed him around, he's still treating you kindly. He’s still here, he isn’t getting up to leave. In fact, he’s reaching into his pocket and pulling out his handkerchief. He hands it over to you, then gestures to your cum-covered stomach. You smile softly, wipe it up, then set the handkerchief aside. 

“I’ll wash this,” you tell him. He nods, humming. His cheeks are red. You like seeing him like this, all flustered and tired. 

He sits up slowly, and you watch the muscles in his back ripple as he does. He stands up and tucks his cock back into his trousers before reaching for his undershirt. Your smile fades, and he notices. 

“I’m just hungry,” he says. “You want somethin’ from downstairs?”

You lean up on your elbows.

“Something to drink, maybe,” you say. You smile. “And whatever food you can find. I’m in no position to be picky.”

He nods as he puts on his button-up and begins to do it up. 

“I’ll do my best,” he says. Once he’s redressed, Billy glances back at you. “You gonna be okay?” 

You nod, reaching for your shirt and draping it over your naked body as you lie back against the pillows. 

“Mhm. You know I can handle myself.” 

“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to.” 

You smile widely. Such a charmer.

“Go, before I undress you again,” you tell him again. He chuckles. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

You hum, getting comfortable as Billy leaves. You hear the door open and close, and you sigh. Your eyes are heavy, and the mattress feels so soft and comforting compared to what you’ve been having, and it’s so quiet . . .

***

It’s dark when you wake. You stir, put off by the blackness. You’re still naked, and when you realize this, you haphazardly pull your button-up back on. You do it up as you move over, feeling the other side of the bed. 

“Billy,” you say into the dark. There is no response. You roll your eyes. That damn bastard. You thought he was different. You thought he was a good man, a kind man. If he wanted more sex, he could have just woken you up, but no, he left you up here in the pitch black. He’s probably downstairs, drinking wine and fucking whores. 

You clench your jaw as you fumble around. You start up the lamp on the bedside table, and grab your pants off the floor. You yank them on, along with your boots, then glance around. 

“Fucking asshole,” you mutter. “Couldn’t even bring me water.” 

You grab the room key and your gun holster off of the bedside table, then yank open the door and start downstairs. The brothel is bustling now that it’s dark outside. Men and naked women are everywhere. You pull a lady aside as you buckle your holster around your hips.

“The guy I was with,” you say to her, “where’s he at?”

She shrugs, then pulls away. Anger boils inside of you. You push your way through and get to the bar. The woman behind it seems to recognize you. 

“You got water?” you ask, frustrated by the entire situation. The woman nods, then silently pours you a glass. She hands it over. You down half of it, then set the glass on the bar and wipe your mouth. 

“You’re the lady who came here with Billy Antrim,” she says finally. You look up. You’re positive that Billy wouldn’t give out his name, let alone his full name, in a place like this. You remain neutral and calm. 

“Who?” 

“The man,” the lady behind the bar says. “The one who went upstairs with you, that was Billy Antrim.” 

You cock your head. 

“What’re you getting at?” 

She blinks at you. 

“Don’t you know?” she asks.

Your brows furrow. 

“Did something happen?” 

She nearly laughs. 

“Where have you been? Asleep?”

“Where is he?” you ask sharply. Your heart is beginning to race. You have a pit in your stomach. Deep down, you know something bad has happened. The woman watches you carefully. 

“You care about him. It’s dangerous to care about people like that–” 

“Tell me where the fuck he is!” you snap, right hand reaching down to rest at your holstered gun. The woman behind the bar clenches her jaw. 

“Someone turned him in,” she says flatly. “He was taken away a few hours ago.” 

Fuck. You should have been awake, you should have been with him. You could have vouched for him, told them that they had the wrong guy. You told him you’d keep him out of trouble, and now . . .

You storm away from the bar, hurrying upstairs to get yours’ and Billy’s things. You leave in a tizzy, adrenaline pumping through you as you fetch Billy’s horse from the stable. You secure everything to the saddle, pull yourself on, and take off towards the jail. 

You tie Billy’s horse outside, then step inside. You glance around for a moment, and the jailkeep looks at you, seemingly irritated by your presence. You offer him a charming smile. 

“Sir,” you say, nodding politely as he looks you up and down. “I–”

“Visiting hours are over,” he says flatly. You hum, glancing around. You spot Billy, and your eyes linger on him for a moment. He grips the bars of the cell, watching you intently. You’ve got a look in your eyes, he realizes. He hopes you aren’t going to do what he thinks you’re going to do. He doesn’t think he’s worth the trouble. 

You look at the jailkeep again. You’re silent for a moment, and before he can tell you to get out, you’re reaching for your gun. You pull it on him and cock it. He stiffens. 

“Unlock his cell,” you say firmly. The man doesn’t move, too surprised. “Now!”

Billy watches you with wide eyes. The jailkeep rises to his feet slowly, and you keep the cocked gun pointed at him as he steps over to Billy’s cell. 

“Unlock it,” you tell him again. “Hurry up.” 

His hands tremble as he finds the right key and unlocks Billy’s cell. Billy steps out quickly, then grabs the keys from the man and shoves him into the cell. He locks him in, and you take a small step back. 

“Don’t yell,” you warn the jailkeep. “I’ll kill you, I swear to God, I’ll do it.” 

While you threaten the man, Billy hurries over to the desk to find his gun. He grabs the jailkeep’s holster off the desk, too, while he’s at it. 

“You’re fuckin’ crazy, woman,” the man says. You hum. 

“Damn right I am.” You glance at Billy. “Let’s go.”

Billy takes the keys with him, and the two of you leave the jail quickly. 

“There’s another horse over there,” you tell Billy as he runs towards his horse. He nods. 

“Go, I’ll keep watch,” he says. You fetch the horse, which you have to guess belonged to the jailkeep, and you hoist yourself up. You ride up beside Billy. 

“C’mon, haul ass,” you say, riding past him. His horse gallops after yours, and the two of you ride into the darkness. 

The severity of the situation is not lost on Billy. You’re in trouble, now. You broke the law to help him, to get him out, and you did it without hesitation. He would’ve been dead by morning if you hadn’t come to get him, and now you’re an outlaw, too. Guilt claws at him as the two of you leave town. 

“You didn’t havta do that,” he says over the sound of hooves hitting the ground. 

“I couldn’t leave you.”

Billy shakes his head. He doesn’t understand. 

“You don’t even know me,” he says, almost frustrated. What a stupid thing you just did. What a thoughtless, dangerous act. 

“I know you’re a good man,” you tell him. “And I know you don’t deserve to hang.”

Billy glances at you, his body bouncing as his horse runs up beside yours. Your eyes meet for just a moment before you look forward again. 

“I hope you’re not thinkin’ of ditching me, Antrim,” you say. He can’t help but smile softly. He wouldn’t even dream of doing such a thing. He owes you his life. 

“‘Course not,” he says. You hum. 

“Then stop lookin’ at me like that and let’s focus on getting the fuck outta here.”

God, where have you been all his life? You’re everything he’s ever needed. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 4

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

Even if the work is a lot and at times tedious, you’re grateful for the excuse to stay inside. As you hole yourself inside the house and tidy the messes, big and small, you can hear the conversations out the walls, wafting in through open windows. It’s as content as your mother’s been in the last few years. Steve is nice enough and he doesn’t have that same snooty lean as the other suburbanites.

As you mop, you think of how he mentioned the city. You wonder what it was like. Before your grandma passed, you and your mom lived in a walk-up in a small town. Everyone there knew your names too and reviled it just the same. You never mean any harm but wherever you go, you seem to inspire spite.

Dishes, floor, walls, dusting, errant cobwebs, clutter...

You work until your mother comes in, swinging the door violently as she drags herself inside. You go to help her and she swats you away. You retreat and she finds her way to the recliner. You shut the door and lock it.

“Wonderful man,” she groans as she lays her head back and tilts the chair, extending the footrest, “don’t make ‘em like that anymore. He’s the sort I shoulda picked.” She closes her eyes and gives a wry hum, “’specially over your dad.”

You don’t say a word. She only mentions your father to remind you of that half of you she hates. You gather up the clothes on the couch into a basket. The laundry will have you up late. Your own fault; you should’ve done this all a lot sooner.

“Should I start dinner?” You ask.

“I don’t know if I’m in the mood for burnt chicken,” she scoffs meanly.

“I could do mac and cheese,” you offer.

“I’m teasing ya. Jeez, you got no sense of humour,” she sighs dreamily, “not like Steve. Such a charming man.”

You pass through the kitchen and descend to the basement to fill the washer. You add soap and twist the knob. You leave the basket on the lid and head back up. You peruse the fridge as you ponder what to make. Mac and cheese would be easiest.

You get started and the TV blips on in the next room. The audio helps chase away the tension. You leave the water to boil and lean on the archway that looks into the front room.

“Um, mom, what should I make tomorrow? For uh, dinner? With... him?”

“Well, don’t sound so damn excited,” she sits up, “whatsa matter with you? The nice man wants to come see us, unlike the rest of these snobs. My own sister won’t come through that door.” She snorts and shakes her head, “you can go to the store tomorrow and grab something nice. I don’t want ya serving that man starchy potatoes. Down at the fancy store, they got those premade meals.”

“Those are expensive,” you remark.

“And? You get your stipend, you don’t gotta be leeching off of me,” she snips.

“Um, yes, I know, I wasn’t--”

“God, look at that,” her eyes flick up to the ceiling, goddamn dusty, it’s a wonder I can breathe.”

You look up and see what she means. There’s a layer of dusty on the ceiling fan as it turns lazily on its lowest setting.

“I’ll get it--”

“Better. You’re not gonna embarrass me tomorrow. I’d be better off if you stay in your room,” she tuts.

“If you want--”

“No, you come out and say hi. Don’t be rude. You know I did try to teach you manners. You just never spoke enough to use them.”

You frown and look down meekly. She’s not wrong. You turn and go to grab the duster. You don’t think tomorrow is going to be any different than any other.

🏠

The next morning, go out to the grocery store to grab the meal for that evening. As you return, you linger at the end of the street. You can see Steve on his lawn. You wait for him to go inside before you drive up and pull into the driveway.

You carry the bags inside with your sights set on the house and nothing else. Inside, you put down your haul on the counter and put each item away, one at a time. Your mother is in the bathroom, chirping out a song out of key.

“God dammit,” she snarls, “I can’t find my red lipstick,” she rattles through her bin of makeup. She doesn’t wear it very often. “Get in here.”

Before you can pass the open door, her demand pulls you back. You enter as she sits on a stool in front of the mirror. She shoves the bin away and grumbles.

“Here,” she holds out a pair of tweezers with a tremble, “damn brows are unruly.”

You nod and step closer. You press a hand gently to her forehead and pluck out the stray hairs, shaping them as best you can.

“Don’t forget my lip,” she huffs hot breath onto you. “Don’t think he’ll like the tickle.”

She chuckles to herself. You don’t get it. You finish and step back, holding up the hand mirror for her. She shrugs.

“Get me some of that moisturizer,” she points unsteadily to the shelf above the toilet. You do as she says. “Mm,” she grumbles as you face her again, “not wearing that, are ya?”

You look down. The loose tee shirt with butterflies on it and the faded jeans are a bit plain. You tug on the hem and raise your head.

“You got a dress somewhere in there,” she shakes her head as she flips the cap up on the bottle after three tries. “I bought you some nice ones and you never put them one.”

“Uh, okay, yeah, I’ll check,” you promise. “Need help?”

You reach for the bottle and she keeps it out of your reach. You back up and leave her. You can sense her agitation growing.

You cross the hall to your bedroom and go to the closet. You slide the door open and sift through the contents hung from the bar. There’s a dress. A pink polka dot dress she got you in high school. Nothing special; a bargain bin cotton a-line with thin straps.

You take it out and examine it. That was the only dance you went to. You got stood up by the boy who asked you. You realise now it was only ever a joke at your expense.

You undress by your bed and put the dress on. It��s tight. Maybe it’s shrunk or maybe you’ve gotten bigger. You didn’t think your chest had grown that much since high school but it’s bulging out and your thighs feel a bit too exposed. You go into the hall and back into the bathroom. You shift the door as you mother works as spreading the eye cream above her cheekbones.

You look at your reflection and cringe. You turn to your mom.

“It’s too small,” you say to her.

She peers over with a scowl. She looks you up and down and drops the tube of cream. She shakes her head.

“Put a sweater over it,” she sneers, “it’s fine.”

“Right, uh, okay,” you agree and swallow. Even with a sweater, you don’t know. The skirt won’t be any longer.

“Would ya stop crowding me?” She shoos you tersely.

You push the door back against the wall and slip out of the bathroom. You head back to your bedroom and pick out a grey cardigan. It has no buttons but it’s at least as long as the dress. It’s better than feeling so exposed.

You hardly think it will matter. You already feel like a third wheel. Steve didn’t exactly spend hours talking to you and your mother as much as said you are collateral. They’re both just putting up with you because you’re there.

You run your hands over your face and hair. Can't dress that up. You pout at your reflection. You wish you could iust hide on your room and draw.

You look over at your sketchbook and cross the room. You sit on your bed and slide the folding table close. You open the pages and pick up the pencil. You straighten the page you tore from the old home and garden magazine and copy the shape of the amaryllis petals.

You can forget a little longer until real life wakes you up.

[musical-shit-show]

little taste of heaven

Pairing: Adam (Hazbin Hotel) x Sinner!Reader

Inspiration: Prompts #53 (“why don’t you make me?”) from Prompt List #1 and #78 (“oh, i’m gonna fucking ruin you.”) from Prompt List #2 with added inspiration taken from a request from the lovely @odins-nsfw

Warnings: cursing, Adam is an asshole (what else is new), tiny bit of angst if you squint, general kinda rough smut (18+, MINORS DNI!!!), oral sex (female receiving), face sitting, digital manipulation, unprotected sex, Adam and reader are definitely toxic, enemies that are also lovers :)

Word Count: 2,149

Author’s Note: This took me a little longer to write but I’m very happy with how it turned out! Definitely getting more comfortable with writing smut, and writing for Adam is still proving to be very fun. Thanks to everyone who has interacted with my other Adam one shots (which you can read here and here); it seriously means so much to see the positive feedback. I still have one more request in my inbox, but I will definitely be writing for more Hazbin characters as the year goes on (especially since we don’t know when the show is coming back). But if you’d like to submit an ask, check out my About Me page, Prompt Lists, and other works in my Masterlist! Thanks and happy reading, depraved sinners!

“Hey, toots, settle a bet for us, would ya?” you heard Angel Dust call to you from across the hotel lobby. Ever since Charlie Morningstar successfully staved off an attack from Heaven’s army, you decided to join her crusade towards redeeming the seemingly irredeemable.

You were first assigned as a quasi-concierge, since you had spent most of your time in Hell bouncing from one side of the Pride Ring to the other. You hopped up from your desk and met Angel, who was slumped across the bar; Husk was silently cleaning a glass, a small smirk on his feline face.

“What’s up, guys?” you breathed, counting the seconds until your shift ended. You were grateful for the free accommodations that the hotel provided, but you didn’t expect the afterlife would involve diving into the wonderful world of customer service.

The porn star shifted his gaze to Husk, and you could tell they were both up to something. “Are ya fuckin’ the angel or what?” the bartender asked, his voice gruff. Angel almost spit out the swig of malt liquor he had just taken.

You feigned confusion, turning to the spider-like demon. “Angel Dust, I think I would know if I were fucking the biggest porn star—”

“Actor.”

“—Actor,” you corrected yourself, “on this side of Hell. You should know he’s not my type, Husk, honest.”

Angel Dusk tsked. “You know that’s not who we’re talking about, babycakes,” he said, his voice lowering, “We’re talking about the angel. Or, I guess the fallen angel.”

Oh, shit.

You shifted uncomfortably on the barstool, swirling the whiskey glass Husk had placed in front of you. “No clue what you mean by that.”

“Bullshit,” Husk said testily.

“See, I told you she’d lie,” Angel drawled, smiling smugly, “You can read it on her pretty little face.” You could feel the heat creeping up your neck.

Yes, you had been fucking Adam. And yes, you had been keeping it from the rest of the hotel residents. Even after showing up—in a new demonic form, no less—to be redeemed, you knew no one, not even Charlie, trusted him fully after the last botched exorcism and direct attack on the hotel itself.

But he was drawn to you almost immediately, singling you out as someone to pursue and torment. And stupidly, you found yourself attracted to him, despite your better judgement.

“Who told you,” you deadpanned.

Angel Dust’s gaze flickered from you to Husk and back again. He sure knew how to be a fucking tease.

“Your stupid boyfriend,” Husk confirmed, not wanting to torture you any longer.

“Ya shoulda seen him bragging about it last night,” Angel added, no doubt living for the drama this would cause, “He’s got some loose lips once the booze starts flowin’. Real keeper if ya ask me.”

Stomach in knots, you attempted to put up a brave face, even with their taunting. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you said definitively, now feeling anger welling up inside you.

This was all Adam’s fault. He couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut and now you were the one dealing with the humiliating fallout. “Fine, fuck buddy, whatever,” Angel corrected, watching as you stood up from the barstool in a huff, “Doesn’t sound like it’ll last very much longer, given the look on your face.”

You rolled your eyes, completely over this conversation. “Would you excuse me?” you asked rhetorically, your voice dripping with poison. Even Angel looked perturbed for a moment.

Husk glanced over to his companion as you hopped off the barstool, practically seething, “Yeah, ‘course toots,” Angel called after you, still clearly tickled by this development. He loved this kind of soap opera drama bullshit.

You were still able to hear Husk say “Oh she’s gonna fuckin’ murder him,” as you climbed the steps and stomped to Adam’s room.

Pounding on the door, anger and embarrassment grew like a vicious virus inside you. When no one answered, you pressed your ear against the door and was met with the irritating sound of a whiny electric guitar.

“Perfect,” you muttered to yourself as you grabbed the ring of keys Charlie had given you when you were on shift. Even though you had technically clocked out, you weren’t above bending the rules to give Adam a piece of your mind.

You threw open the door, letting the thud as it hit the wall startle the fallen angel strumming his guitar lazily. “Jesus fu—” he started to say as he shifted on his bed, but then his eyes softened at the sight of you, “Oh, hey babe—”

“Don’t you ‘hey babe’ me, you fucking prick,” you spat, fire practically spewing from your mouth, “You’ve been telling people about us?!”

A tense pause.

“Maybe.”

Another pause.

“No?”

You could feel your eye beginning to twitch.

“Ugh, fine. Yes. But what’s the big deal?” Adam asked incredulously, finally putting his guitar down.

You paused for a moment, your anger simmering. The big deal was that you were embarrassed. That the thought of you and Adam going public made you look like a desperate sinner latching onto the only other wayward soul that would look your way.

And hell, you actually liked sneaking around, until he ruined it with his big, dumb mouth of his.

And maybe, just maybe, you were afraid that once the novelty wore off and everyone knew about you two, Adam would leave you behind and move onto the next shiny new toy to waltz into the hotel.

“Cat got your tongue, dollface?” he prodded, wanting to get a rise out of you. It was one of his new favorite pastimes.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, your anxiety being replaced by annoyance. “Jesus fucking Christ do you ever shut up?” The former angel smirked, his eyes flitting up and down your form.

“First off, don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” he said as you rolled your eyes, “It’s fucking rude.”

You wanted to punch him.

“Second, why don’t you make me?”

That was the last straw.

You lunged at him, practically pouncing on top of him to kiss him hungrily. Adam knew exactly how to push your buttons, and pathetic as it was, you actually fell for it every time.

You were straddling him, and felt him wince as you bit his lip in the heat of the angry makeout. Adam knew you were pissed, and the more you fought for dominance, the harder he felt himself get. 

After all, pleasure always tasted sweeter with a little pain. And you tasted fucking delicious.

Adam groaned as you pulled away from him, your face still radiating with heat and anger. You weren’t letting him off that easily, and he knew it.

“Lie down,” you muttered, your eyes scanning his smug expression. “Now.” Wordlessly, Adam complied, lying on his back as you removed your pants and underwear swiftly.

Adam raised his head slightly just in time to watch you remove your shirt and throw it across the room in a huff. He waited patiently for you to do his own disrobing on his behalf; the lazy bastard loved when you rode him.

But he didn’t feel the desperate grasp of your hands around his cock.

No, instead, you climbed up his chest, until you were eye to eye, his gold pupils dilated. “I’m going to have to take drastic measures to shut you up, aren’t I?”

Adam felt his pulse quicken. “What’d you have in mind?”

A sinful smile spread across your face. “Something I know you hate,” you teased, cupping his face gently, doing your best to seduce him into submission, “And something I happen to know your bestie Luci is very talented at.”

Adam gripped your arm, pulling your hand away from his face. You became frightened for a second, before he started peppering the inside of your wrist with small love bites.

The games you played toed a dangerous line between love and hate, and luckily Adam had been fucking you long enough to understand the moves you were making.

“I’m not eating you out,” he said, his expression darkening, “And don’t try to bait me with that little pretty boy. It won’t work.”

You felt your pulse quicken; clearly you had struck a nerve. You just had to push him a little further to get your way.

“Is that why Lilith really left?” you said, rolling your hips against his, feeling how hard he was underneath you, “Because you couldn’t…satisfy her the way that Lucifer could?”

You knew this would send him over the edge. And the moment you looked into his burning gold eyes, you knew you had won.

A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

“Oh, I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he growled, tugging at the hair at the nape of your neck. You smirked as he finally complied and laid on his back. Adam would rather give up control than have his skills in the bedroom be compared to the King of Hell.

You knew he was insecure, and if he was going to be a dick about it, the least you could do was take advantage.

Before he could change his mind, you placed each thigh on either side of his head, kneeling until your aching core met the lower half of his face. After a few seconds of resistance, you felt his lips part and flinched as his tongue slid into you.

“I can’t believe this was—ah—” you bucked your hips as he found his way to your clit, “This was the only way to get you to shut the fuck up.” You felt a hum of disapproval as his slender hands found his way to your ass.

You smiled to yourself as you felt the annoyed hum that radiated from your stubborn lover’s mouth. Finding your pace, you felt the tension in your abdomen rising as Adam continued to eat you out.

For not loving the act, you had to admit he was good at it. Feeling his tongue swirl inside you sent a shiver down you spine, and you felt a yelp leave your lips as he slapped your ass as you continued to buck on top of him.

In retaliation, he tried teasing you with small sucks and flicks, but you didn’t care; the fact that he was focusing on your gratification for a change was rewarding enough.

After a few minutes, though, the fallen angel had had enough of your domineering; if he was going to finish you off, he was going to do it his way.

Coming up for air, he placated you by circling one of his fingers around your clit. “Alright baby, you got what you wanted,” he breathed, “Now it’s my turn.”

In one fell swoop, he flipped you over onto your back, and disrobed in the blink of an eye. ‘Showoff,’ you thought to yourself, annoyed by the lack of his mouth on your pussy.

Before you could protest, two of his long fingers found his way inside you, pumping and curling to hit your sweet spot.

“After this, I’m gonna fuck you into oblivion,” Adam muttered, his tempo growing more erratic, “You’re lucky I’m even bothering to get you off after your little outburst, but you can consider it a favor this time.”

You tried to focus more on satisfying sensation you were feeling than his bitching. “It’s the least you could do after that bullshit you pulled with Husk and Angel,” you said, feeling a bead of sweat roll down your back as you tightened around him, “They’ll fucking crucify me.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, baby,” he cooed, resting his thumb on your bud as he continued to pump his fingers into you, “Now be a good girl and cum for me.”

It only took a few more moments of stimulation for you to humiliatingly come undone around him, knowing he’d make you pay for it later.

Getting off always seemed to come with a price when it came to fucking Adam; at the very least you were able to shut him up for a few glorious minutes.

You contemplated if the grilling from the other guests and constant bickering was worth it, but you didn’t have much time to change your mind. Adam pulled you off your back and onto your stomach, and you winced as he slammed his cock into you, your ass on full display as he took you from behind.

You gripped the sheets, the friction of him inside you equal parts painful and gratifying. ‘Another question for another day,’ you thought, burying your face into the mattress as he fucked you at an agonizingly delicious pace.

Right now, you had a pissy angel to placate and a couple of sinners to swear to secrecy.

Royally fucked didn’t even begin to describe the mess you had gotten yourself into.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

thanks for reading! please like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed and want to read more! :)

[topguncortez]

Take It | Jake Seresin x Female!Reader

Jake Seresin Masterlist | Main Masterlist

smut prompts!

Synopsis: Jake can usually handle a bit of teasing, but as long as he gets what he wants out of it. Inspired by the scene where Hangman says his infamous "stop" line

word count: 2.0k

warnings: teasing, age gap, oral sex (m receiving), public sex, head pushing, dirty talk, a dash of brat tamer jake, name calling, spit swapping, hair pulling, cursing, tears.

You were being a brat, and you knew it. And so did Jake, who had shot you probably the thirtieth warning glare of the night your way. He was trying to keep his calm, but with the way you were acting, he was ready to throw you over his shoulder and walk out of the bar. 

He was wearing his khaki uniform, and so were most of the aviators that stood around the pool table. After a day of work, working on flight plans, and going over training events, the Dagger Squad wanted a relaxing night at the Hard Deck. Jake had stopped by home to grab you, knowing that you had a hard day with classes of your own. You were studying nursing and in your final year. Jake was proud of you, knowing that you had been working hard all week for this exam, and had aced it. He wanted to celebrate. 

You and Jake were roughly ten years apart, him being thirty-three and you being twenty-three. You seemed mature for your age when you met, but Jake quickly saw through that front. But he loved it. He loved how you were dependent on him to show you the world outside of the little collegiate bubble you lived in. You weren’t as innocent as some girls your age, but you weren’t as outgoing either. Jake felt protective of you when the two of you went out to local bars, knowing what the college-age male thought when he saw you. Jake was sometimes no better than them. Like right now. 

The shorts you wore was barely covering your ass, and with one wrong move, you were flashing the whole bar. He wondered if you were wearing that all day, knowing you, it was highly likely. He loved that you had a fashion sense, your clothes and shoes slowly starting to take up his closet, despite having your own. He could also see the black lace bra you were wearing under your white tank top. You looked as if you could give Cindy Crawford a run for her money. Jake felt his cock stir as you once again bent down to take a shot at the game of pool you were playing. 

“Oh no!” You pouted, “I missed.” 

“Here, let me help you,” Jake said, pushing up from his barstool. You smirked as he walked over, and put you in front of him. He leaned you over slightly, guiding you to line up the shot. You grind your ass against his semi that was straining in his pants. Jake grunted as he helped you make the shot, “There ya go.” Jake said, and stepped away from you, causing a small whine to leave your lips. He gave you yet another warning glare, but that didn’t deter you at all. 

He wanted to see how long you’d keep up the act. You usually give up the act rather quickly if Jake wasn’t giving you wanted. But so far it had been going on for nearly an hour, and he knew that the black panties you were wearing had to be absolutely soaked. You were a glutton for punishment, and he knew it. He knew how much you loved looking at your bruised ass in the mirror the next morning. He had caught you one too many times taking pictures and saving them to a private photo album. Jake slowly takes a sip of his beer as he watches you bite your lip and look down at the pool table. 

When Bob shot the final ball into the pocket, you clapped your hands and kissed his cheek. Jake’s grip tightened on the bottle he was holding, and it was a miracle that he somehow didn’t break it. Bob just blushed and patted your back as you skipped away from him, over to the bar where Rooster was standing. Part of the whole act was that you had money on the line, a bet made with Jake’s once enemy. Jake liked to tell everyone that he wasn’t the jealous type, but again, that was another front that everyone could see right through. 

“How’s it goin’, sugar,” Rooster said as he looked down at you. 

“Good, Roo,” You smiled, “He’s totally looking over here so if I were you, I would do something like put your arm around me,” Rooster smirked and did exactly what you said, his hand settling low on your back. 

“This alright?” He asked and you nodded, feeling holes being burned into the back of your head from a certain green-eyed man, “You really want that fifty bucks, don’t ya, sugar?” 

“Uh, of course,” You said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “That’s almost enough for me to get my nails redone next week.” 

“Well then,” Rooster said and picked up the beer that was placed in front of him, “Let’s go over there and get you that fifty bucks.” 

You smirked as Rooster took your hand and guided you back over to the group of aviators. You perched yourself between Rooster’s legs, sitting on his left thigh. He held you securely in your spot, as you draped one of your arms around his neck, your other hand coming up to rest on his chest. If looks could kill, Jake would easily have two more confirmed shots under his belt. 

Jake let the act go on for a while longer, watching as your fingers went to play with the gold chain around Rooster’s neck. Jake hated to admit it, but the two of you looked good together. Maybe it was the way that both of your skin tones were perfectly kissed by the sun. Or maybe it was how the two of you fit so naturally together, his hand resting naturally on your hip. Or maybe it was the fleeting glances the two of you would share. If Jake was a fool, he’d think that you had a thing for Rooster. But Jake had what other men wish they could have, he had your heart. 

“Oh god, Rooster, you’re just so big,” Your voice is what snapped Jake out of his repertoire and had him looking at you from across the table. You were standing in front of Rooster now, both arms draped around his neck while you leaned in to press a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. Jake saw red as Rooster rested a hand right above your ass. Jake was up out of his chair before he could even think and made his way over to the two of you. You were moving your hand down Rooster’s abs when Jake grabbed your wrist. 

“Stop,” You raised an eyebrow at Jake and looked back at Rooster, “We’re leaving.” 

“But-” 

“No,” Jake cut you off, “You’re not going to sit here and act like a brat. Get up, let’s go.” 

You had that glint in your eye, that tiny bit of mischief as you stood up from Rooster’s lap and followed Jake wordlessly through the bar. You tried your best to suppress the giggle in your throat as he led you to the bathroom of the Hard Deck. The moment the two of you were inside, Jake spun you around and shoved you up against the door. You could feel the outline of his hard cock against your ass, making warmth flood through you. 

“You gonna explain what you were doing out there with Rooster?” Jake’s voice was gruff as he whispered in your ear, “Or am I gonna have to fuck the answer out of you?” 

“I was being nice,” You pouted, “You said I should-” 

Jake turned your body around, so you were facing him, “I said don’t be a brat. You were being a slut.” 

You bit your lip, trying to keep up the pouty persona, but if there was one thing about Jake, he knew all the right buttons to push to get you to break. He took a step back from you, looking you up and down, before undoing his belt. You didn’t even need to be told to get on your knees, as you dropped before him, mouth already drooling at the thought of having him in your mouth. 

“Now you want to be a good girl,” Jake tsked as he walked towards you. With a hand tangled in your hair, he pulled your head back so you were looking up at him, “Always a good girl when you want daddy’s cock.” 

“Mhm,” You nodded, licking your lips. 

“Then be a good girl, and suck daddy’s off.” 

You nodded, pushing down Jake’s boxers and freeing his thick cock from the confines of his boxers. His tip was red and angry, a drop of precum already leaking from it. You licked the tip gently, moaning at the salty taste of him. If there was one thing you knew about Jake, it was that he loved messy blowjobs. You grabbed his cock with both hands, spitting on the tip of it. Jake grunted, watching you through hooded eyes as you rubbed your spit up and down his shaft. 

“Hold your tongue out,” He commanded, and you obliged. Jake fisted himself in his hand, tapping his dick on your tongue several times, “You love when daddy’s cock is in your mouth.” You moaned as he rubbed the tip over your lips, mixing saliva and pre-cum over you, “Messy girl,” He chuckled, “Go on, suck me off like the slut you are.” 

You nodded eagerly, removing Jake’s hand at the base of his cock. You started slow, licking the tip again and moving down his shaft, making eye contact with him the whole time. Jake sucked in a breath as you wrapped your lips around him and started to suck him off. 

“Fuck, there you go,” Jake moaned, keeping a hand in your hair, gently guiding your movements, “C’mon, go deeper,” He encouraged pushing your head down until your nose was flush with the thin patch of pubic hair he had. You felt tears in your eyes, as Jake kept your head down, thrusting his hips into you ever so slowly. You looked up at him with large doe eyes, unshed tears threatening to spill. 

“Fuck!” Jake groaned, not letting up as he fucks your face. You close your eyes as you gag around him, squeezing your fists tightly, “Take it. You wanna act like a brat, take it.” You blink twice for yes, feeling his hips start to stutter, knowing that he was close, “Fuck. Fuck, sweetheart. Gonna cum in that pretty mouth of yours.” 

You blink twice again, as Jake lets out a loud groan and his hips stop. You moan at the feeling of his cum filling your mouth. He pulls out of you, a thin layer of sweat on his brow. 

“Open,” You do as he commands and show him the mouth full of cum, “So good,” He praises, wiping a stray tear from your face, “Swallow for me.” You keep your eyes locked on his green ones as you swallow the cum in your mouth. He tucks himself back into his boxers and dress pants, fixing his belt. Jake then helps you stand from the floor and pulls you into a kiss. He could still taste the saltiness of his cum on your tongue, “What do you say we get out of here and I return the favor.” 

You smirk at him, “I have a better idea,” Jake tilts his head to the side, “Can we invite-” 

“Nope,” Jake says, “You are mine and all mine. I don’t share.”

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[thrillered]

"You Know I Mountain Dew It For Ya" | Spencer Agnew x Reader | Pt. 10

Pt 10: Birds of a feather

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You walked into the office making a beeline for Shayne who was standing with Courtney and Erin. “Shayne, I need to talk to you.” You breathed out. 

“Okay?” Shayne questioned immediately feeling the frazzled energy around you. 

You walked away, heading to an empty meeting room, trusting that Shayne was behind you. You began pacing the short distance across the room, turning to Shayne as he closed the door behind him. “It is too early for you to be like this.” he laughed, feeling concerned. 

“I think I fucked up, like bad.” 

“Okay what’s going on?” 

“I… uh… meandspencerkissedandthenileftbeforehewokeup andsenthimsomebullshittextandhedidn’ttextbackoranything.” you blurted out. 

“Come again?” Shayne asked.

“Me and Spencer kissed and then I left before he woke up and then I sent him some bullshit text about why I left so early, like 5 am early, and he read it but didn’t say anything back.” You repeated, out of breath. You recalled the events of the night prior to Shayne, shushing him everytime he giggled or teased you. 

“You gotta talk to him, this just sounds like a misunderstanding.” Shayne consoled. 

“I just don’t know what to do, I like him so much but aren’t things going to change?” You asked.

“Change isn’t bad Y/N,” Shayne reassured, “Change has to happen, especially if you want anything serious with Spencer. But I think you need to talk to him soon.. Like today.” 

“Was it this scary with Courtney?” You asked, feeling defeated.

“It was terrifying, I won’t lie to you. But god, it was the best decision I ever made. I’m sure no matter what happens everything will be okay. You’re a catch Y/N, Spencer is gonna be so lucky to have you.” 

“You’re right, thank you Shayne.” You said, giving him a small smile. He pulled you in for a reassuring hug before leaving the room. 

You took a few deep breaths before groaning, knowing you had to find Spencer and soon. You sent him a text ‘Hey Spencer I need to talk to you, soon preferably’. 

—

Spencer read your text, agreeing with the sentiment but feeling upset enough to ignore it. He knew it was petty of him but he just couldn’t help it. You left him hanging with no answers this morning and for now, he intended to do the same. He turned off his phone, putting it in a drawer of his desk before going into his first meeting of the day. 

And so it began, you trying to talk to Spencer and him dodging you. First it was the text, then when you tried to talk to him in person he conveniently had a call to take. The whole day consisted of playing cat and mouse, you were exhausted. 

Both you and Spencer were in such bad moods by lunch the whole office could tell something was wrong. Spencer had to film right after lunch so you used this time to come up with a plan. You knew you needed to get Spencer alone but it would be hard considering it was Friday and you wouldn’t see him over the weekend if things weren’t resolved. To make matters worse next week you would be filming a “who knows Spencer best” best Alex and Shayne. You knew the chemistry on screen would be awful if things continued this way and the fans would catch on.

Your personal issues had already bled into the workplace and you didn’t want it to get farther than that. 

If Spencer wouldn’t talk to you then you had to show him how sorry you were, and you hoped you had just the thing. 

You had been working on a song at the same time as Espresso, feeling so much thankfulness in your life you wrote another song. It would take a long night to finish and get the vocals recorded but you didn’t care, you had to make things right. Feeling both inspired and overwhelmed with your emotions you crafted more lyrics, finishing a song that you hoped would convey everything it needed to. 

You spent the rest of the workday giving Spencer the space he so clearly needed. Before everyone left you stopped by Ian’s office. “Hey Ian, can I ask a huge favor from you?” you asked, mustering up the biggest puppy dog eyes you could. 

“Oh god what is it?” He replied, bracing.

“It’s nothing bad!” You assured, “I just wanna know if I can stay a little late today and use the VO booth, I have my own sim cards and everything I just need the equipment. I would use my own but there’s been construction all day everyday.” 

“Oh, yeah that’s fine, knock yourself out.” Ian said, “Can I know why?” 

“Song recording.” You said simply.

“Well if it’s a hit like Espresso go ahead, I mean have you seen the spike in views lately?” He laughed. 

“Oh god I have.” You replied, thanking him before wishing him a good weekend. 

—

There were only a few people, mostly editors, left in the office. Spencer had left about an hour ago, giving you a frustrated, almost sad glance as he passed your desk on his way out.

Luckily you and josh had a backing track that just needed a little polishing, made for this song specifically. With no time to lose you set up the equipment you needed and began recording. 

“I want you to stay.

Till I'm in the grave.

Till I rot away, dead and buried.

Till I'm in the casket you bury..” 

“If you go i'm going too,

‘Cause it was always you.

And if i’m turning blue, please don't save me.

Nothing left to lose without my baby.”

You allowed yourself to feel all of your emotions as you sang, hoping the rawness of your voice would shine. 

“Birds of a feather, we should stick together

I know I said I’d never, Think I wasn’t better alone.

Can’t change the weather

Might not be forever.. But if it's forever, it’s even better.” 

You began to tear up, reminiscing on all of the wonderful memories you shared with Spencer. 

“And I don’t know what I’m crying for,

I don’t think I could love you more

It might not be long but baby i, 

I’ll love you till the day that I die.” 

You were all but sobbing now, managing to keep your voice strong through the emotions. You continued singing, deciding you’d do multiple takes of the whole song and splice it together anywhere that needed it. 

“Till the day that I die.

Till the light leaves my eyes.

Till the day that I die.”

“I want you to see: How you look to me.

You wouldn’t believe if I told ya, 

You would keep the compliments I throw ya,

But you’re so full of shit. 

Tell me it’s a bit.. 

Say you don’t see it, your minds polluted

Say you wanna quit, don’t be stupid.” 

You finished out the song's last dozen lines, ending the recording before taking a minute to compose yourself before the next take. You continued recording, playing your vocals into your headphones to sing the harmonies and melodies. You were finally done around 8 pm. At this point no one was in the office besides you. 

You took your recordings and left after cleaning up the equipment you used. You knew you’d be working all night at editing it but it didn’t matter, you wanted to be able to release it tomorrow. 

Was this the best move in terms of your musical career? No, definitely not, this release schedule was not sustainable or encouraged but you couldn’t give a shit about your career right now. 

—

It was 6 in the morning when you finished the song and felt proud of what you created. You sent it to josh to look over before releasing it and began posting about a “Big announcement” on all of your socials. 

As early as it was, people were very actively talking about it. A new trending hashtag within the first hour. You hadn’t truly realized what Espresso had done for you but seeing the response of literally hundreds of thousands of people shook you. 

Josh got back to you rather quickly, sending you a new file where he tweaked a few things on the track, giving you heavy praise regardless. Enough traction had built online that you released the single around 9 am, accompanied with a post saying, “this song is really personal to me and I hope you like it because I love you. Birds of A Feather, right?” Written directly to Spencer, hoping he would read it and realize. 

—

Spencer tried to sleep in on the weekends. His attempts were usually ruined by one or both of his cats batting at his face until he got to feed them, at which point he was too awake to fall back asleep. 

This Saturday was no different. He drowsily got up and fed the cats before climbing back in bed and unplugging his phone. He went to make his normal rounds, checking his email and texts before opening twitter, only to find thousands of notifications, roughly 6 times more than usual. 

Curious as to what was happening he clicked over to the trending page. The top tag was your ship name, followed by iterations of birds of a feather. He went into the hashtags, quickly finding your original post. He read it. Then reread it and reread it again. “Birds of a feather, right?”. 

He knew that phrase. Not just because it was popular but because it was the exact verbiage he used with you when you first became friends. You were so scared you wouldn’t fit in with Smosh but Spencer kinda took you under his wing. You learned you had a lot in common and when you thanked him for his kindness he said it: “Birds of a feather, right?” 

He sighed, clicking into your account to look at your profile picture. The small icon being a professional photo of you and Spencer in a strange pose you did in the last smosh shoot. He swallowed thickly before opening the link in your post, redirecting him to Apple music where the first notes of your new song played. 

He sat still, each word you sang punching him in the stomach. He could feel your emotion through the phone, closing his eyes as he allowed himself to be enraptured by the noise. 

This song was different from your usual music, a nostalgic, almost melancholic ballad that rid Spencer of any anger and pettiness he had been harboring towards you. 

He wanted to see you. 

You needed to see him.

[panoffrying]

My Dr. Sozonius LORE Headcanons

✨Warning this is a bit long✨

Sozo is a character that has lived for a very long time. Whatever that mushroom was on their head not only influenced Sozo but kept them immortal. We know really nothing bout Sozos past so I made some headcanons for silly fun and for me to visualize who Sozo was and what his life may have looked like. I want to do my best to keep this as game accurate as possible, so there will be quotes from the game. The quotes are not at all in order! I kinda just bring up random Sozo quotes as I go. Also I apologize if this doesn't make sense or if I ramble (I get excited about certain topics) 

thank you so much @7moonbird for going over and editing this for me, Love ya Pookie!

And so we start:

Sozonius was born in the days of the old faith. He was present the day the Bishops declared the genocide of the lambs and he actually played a big part in assisting the lambs survival. However, he almost got caught and had to stop helping the lambs to keep his family safe. He's never seen any of the bishops(maybe) but his village was part of Darkwood and therefore under Bishop Leshy’s ruling.

VILLAGE 

Sozonius village was mostly a colony of Carpenter Ants, there were a few other species living there too but it was mostly Carpenter Ants. I imagine there are different races of ants depending on the region they’re in; so there could be fire ants, pharaoh ants, and more! Most ants get along nicely and work together but sometimes other races of ants can be more temperamental and cause conflict between colonies. Carpenter ants are a more calm type of ants, they aren't aggressive but they are incredibly strong. Carpenters ants are known to live in trees; they hollow out trees to make their homes and they like to stay off the ground as much as possible in case of floods and other dangers.

In the colony they had their ruler, the “Queen,” who looked over the village and did queenly business (not gonna go too deep into it). Everyone had many different jobs, ants are hard workers and very strong. They made marvelous structures, farmed a lot of crops, and knew how to work together when there was a threat. Sozo’s village was one that many others would try making deals/trades with. I would talk more about his village but that's not why y’all are here lol. 

Sozonius was a fellow damn near everyone in the village knew. He loved his work and he loved to talk about it to anyone that expressed that they wanted to listen. He was that guy that you could get stuck in a conversation with and struggle to end it. He liked to ramble about his work and kids. Other than that though he never really started conversations with others, he would keep to himself unless someone interacted with him.

And I could definitely see him having a science rival but nothing too bad lol.

FAMILY

“Where am I…? Where is… my family…?”  are the words Sozo says when he turns back into Dr. Sozonius. I like to think he had a wife and two children. They didn’t have the best marriage but they made it work out for their two sons. His wife was a bit stubborn and very honest. She would say things before thinking which did cause issues, but Sozonius let it slide because he loved her so much and wanted a happy family for his sons. 

Sozonius was a very funny dude. He made dad jokes all the damn time, his family would pretend to hate the jokes but in reality they did love them. 

Sozo Dialogue “Now all Sozo can think about is mushrooms, mushrooms, MUSHROOMS… They don’t leave mush-room for anything else! Ha!”

(Also, this next idea is inspired off of @kuphulwho headcanons for Sozo. I loved her ideas and I recommend y'all look at her headcanons too!) Aside from Sozonius being a mycologist he had a side hobby of art! He wasn't the best artist, but he was really talented with sketching plants/fungi, he liked to make art of anything that interested him. He most likely wrote an educational picture book about Fungi, there's probably an old copy of it somewhere.

This art hobby caught the interest of his two sons, and they also started to pursue art. Sozonius would take his free time teaching his sons how to draw plants and such. Sozonius would hang his kids' art everywhere in their house, it was like walking into an art museum haha.

JOB

Sozonius studied mycology which means he studied fungi. Sozonius knew fungi could benefit his society and he wanted to help educate others about the importance of fungi. Soon he learned enough of a new discovery of mushroom people, neither plant nor animal…Sozonius then made the decision to go on a solo mission to study the Mushroomo people.

THE MUSHROOMOS 

Dr. Sozonius Dialogue “My name is Dr. Sozonius. I was researching the Mushroomos that live in Spore Grotto… strange creatures, Neither animal nor plant…” 

Sozonius went to Spore Grotto and at first, he studied the Mushroomo people from a distance setting up a campsite near the Mushroomo Village. When the Mushroomo people discovered Sozonius they welcomed him into their home, cheerful happy little things. Sozonius was given the chance to learn more about these strange creatures up close! How could he say no? Sozonius was welcomed into Spore Grotto and was treated like a god. 

Sozonius asked the Mushroomos many questions, but getting any actual answers from them was difficult. The Mushroomos treated Sozonius like he was their most special guest, they danced and sang for Sozonius. They would mimic Sozonius and follow him around, making sure to do anything he asked of them. There would be many times when the Mushroomos would offer to feed Sozonius menticide mushrooms but Sozonius knew a lot about fungi and declined their offers. However, there seemed to be a special Ritual the Mushroomos took part in… 

Sozonius had been in Spore Grotto for many weeks now, it was time for him to leave, he had studied enough and was ready to return home but the Mushroomos were surprisingly sad when he announced this. They wanted to show Sozonius a sacred ritual to them before he left, he wasn't aware of the menticide mushrooms being part of it…

Dr. Sozonius Dialogue “They gave me Menticide Mushrooms, and then… that’s the last thing I remember…”

After Sozonius was tricked into eating menticide mushrooms and also gave Sozonius a crown, a crown that would grow into Sozoniuss mind, he shall be the Mushroomos leader… And the new Sozo was made. (literally just think of Ice Age 2 when the lil sloths take Sid to be their fire king, however they don't sacrifice him)

The mushroom on Sozos head is very powerful, it makes me wonder what it is exactly, it gives the person wearing it immortality, but also causes the user to go insane (don't forget that Sozo is also being fed menticide mushrooms) the mushroom crown kinda reminds me of Chemachs crown. It seems to have a mind of its own and a face. I feel like the Mushroomos for days straight made sure to give Sozo a diet of only menticide mushrooms to make him forget everything and to possibly power the mushroom crown. They would constantly tell Sozo that his mind would be open and free, that it would make him feel better, and Sozo being under the influence of the mushroom listened to them.

A Mushroomo Dialogue "Once you taste the Menticide Mushroom your mind will be opened." 

As the years went by so did all the sanity Sozonius had left, but in some moments Sozonius seems to still be aware but not all there. 

Sozo Dialogue “Sozo had friends... Followers... family... now Sozo has mushrooms..."

Sozo over time seems to start to dislike his followers and call them liars. He even becomes quite cruel to his followers. Yet he also mentions that he trusts the lamb and wants the lamb to protect him from his followers which makes me believe that Sozonius is somehow a little aware and fighting against the mushroom crown’s influence. He is mad at the Mushroomos for lying to him, tricking him, making him into who he is now.

 Sozo Dialogue  “No need to thanks Sozo. Build it at your Cult then come back to me. Sozo shall grant you one last gift. Sozo is always fair. Always repays this debts. Not like those LIARS out there."

"You did it! Now I know I can trust you... not like those nasty liars outside. They are always watching, always listening! Here take this. You are Sozo's best friend, you are Sozo's only friend."

"Sozo can trust you now, Sozo will pledge himself to you! You will protect me from those liars outside and bring Sozo mushrooms!"

(Also a side note that my gf brought to my attention last second lol! Apparently parasitic mushrooms rely on insects to spread. That is probably why they tricked Sozonius into staying and eating menticide mushrooms. Maybe it's been that long since they've seen an insect)

SOZOS IMPRISONMENT

So, this next little headcanon of mine is an interesting one and might be confusing to explain. Was Sozonius imprisoned within his own mind while under the control of the mushroom crown? If he was, I can see him being stuck in a sort of loop, imagining his family and friends. Think like Mabel's Bubble from ‘Gravity Falls’ weirdmageddon. Sozonius is trapped in a mental bubble, stuck in a false reality as the now mushroom-infected Sozo takes over his body and actions. 

In Sozonius’s mental bubble he is in a place where trees are big, tall mushrooms and flowers are mushrooms, everywhere he turns its mushrooms. He knows something is wrong, everything is too strange, everyone he loves is there with him but is it real? It feels like he's living in a dream. Sozonius proceeds to talk to his friends and family as if they are actually there in which I noticed that Sozo will talk to the menticide mushrooms as if they are actual people.

Sozo Dialogue “Precious, perfect little mushrooms, Sozo is here now, Sozo will always be here…”

”Sozo is busy now… Sozo must commune with the ‘shrooms.”

As time passes more mushrooms grow in his mind prison, and they keep growing and growing until they start to grow on the people he loves. He knows something is happening, he's going mad, and he starts to search for an exit, he needs to escape this false reality that the mushroom crown has created for him. 

He starts fighting the mushroom crown’s hold on him which causes him to regain some awareness. This is when a part of him realizes he’s been tricked, and he starts refusing everything the Mushroomos give him and becomes cruel to them. However, the lambs have never done him wrong before and the lamb (from the cult) begins to be the only person he can trust. At least until it becomes too much and well… we know Sozo’s fate.

SOZO’S REVIVAL 

So Sozo doesn't get resurrected until all the bishops become mortal (at least in my playthrough)(I might change this to he was part of the cult before the bishops I’m not sure). So all the bishop siblings are in the cult and learning the ways of mortal stuff and Sozo appears around the same time, still the crazy Sozo we know and love. However, he’s still very addicted to the menticide mushrooms and both the Lamb and night workers have found Sozo digging through the mushroom crops like a lil racoon.

Based on the game, Sozo likes to run around the cult and do his own thing; he often looks very spaced out but the moment someone talks to him he starts spitting nonsense before yelling at them to go away. The only people Sozo will talk to are people that give Sozo what he wants, which is menticide mushrooms! If you do that for him he will talk your ear off with nonsense, in conversations with him he will often talk about his followers, them being liars and disgusting little creatures. One day though Sozo’s personality seems to change? He starts to tell the lamb,

 “Sozo was just here, all alone, thinking about mushrooms... Uh, Sozo means Sozo's little Mushroomo followers!”

”Yes,, they must be so lost without Sozo. They love Sozo! Everyone loves Sozo - especially Lamb!”

“Without their great and beloved Sozo, Mushroomos must be so scared... YOU! You must save them! Save them and bring them to Sozo.”

”They will be trapped in Anura. They are always getting captured when they don't have their great Sozo to protect them. Rescue them and bring them to me.”

But when you bring the followers to Sozo he ends up eating them. At first glance you can assume it's just his addiction, in which it most certainly could be! He sees a big mushroom and he's like oooo~ delicious but there's also a possibility of this being Dr. Sozonius’s anger coming out. The whole fighting against the mushroom crown’s influence and realization that he’s been tricked. Maybe a mix of his addiction and anger for what they did to him? I’m not too sure if Sozo eating the Mushroomos was a problem before he joined the cult.

Of course, this addiction must be stopped so the lamb decides enough is enough and refuses to get more Mushroomos. This causes Sozo to dissent and, with little choice, the Lamb has to put him in rehab. I imagine it would’ve been a struggle getting Sozo to the prison without the Red Crown’s help. With the power of an ant that is Sozo’s size it's a miracle he didnt break that pillory while he was in it. Sozo just stayed silent and didn't fight; the person he had put his trust and hope in has imprisoned him. Sozo is a bit depressed at that moment. 

After Sozo has been re-educated, released, and cured of his addiction the mushroom crown finally falls off his head. Which, like I said before, makes me wonder, was it being powered by the menticide mushrooms Sozo has been eating or is it something else?

But Dr. Sozonius talks about some stuff before saying,

Dr. Sozonius Dialogue “I can’t help but feel that I have you to thank for… something. You have my loyalty, I will remain here and serve you. Please, take this!”

Sozonius was ready to live his life rather than reunite with his family in the afterlife. He wasn't expecting to be resurrected after dying in the cult from old age. But Sozonius gave the lamb their loyalty and promised to stay in the cult and serve them. The Lamb had been so kind as to give Sozonius an immortality necklace, the Lamb didn’t want Sozonius to go yet… and Sozo’s heart was too kind and soft. He will have to wait a bit longer to return home to his family, but maybe some good things will come out of staying longer~

Also! Who do we think Sozo was talking to? 

A Mushroomo Dialogue "Who is Sozo talking to when he whispers in the dark...?"

Is he talking to himself? The mushrooms? Or the Fox?

[tkwrites]

Private Lessons - Quinn Hughes x Sarah (ofc)

Photo from Pinterest

Title: Private Lessons

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah (OFC) 

Warnings: None? If I should add any, please let me know. 

Summary: As requested by @eyesthatroll, Quinn teaches Sarah to skate.

Word Count: 3,300

Comments: After taking a bit of a breather, I’m back with a requested fic. 2 months after you requested it, your wish is my command, Mari. I hope you enjoy it!

This was an interesting exercise for me to write something requested by someone else that wasn’t necessarily my own idea. I wrestled with it and got in my head a lot about it, but ultimately, I like the result I finally came to. 

Thanks for your patience and support. Please let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to see in their universe! I can’t guarantee I’ll write it, but I love the inspiration and challenge these requests bring! 

eyesthatroll asked: tory!! i absolutely adore your writing 🥹 maybe if it’s in your wheelhouse, you could write quinn teaching sarah to skate (or them going skating together) for the first time. i think that would be very adorable 😭 it’s totally fine if that’s not in the cards for the series though, don’t feel pressured! love ya! 🫶🏽

Private Lessons

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

At the end of every season we have a family skate. It's on the 15th. I'd like to bring you if you can come. 

Sarah knew this was a bigger deal than his crafted to be casual text was letting on. If it really was casual, he would have mentioned it before he left for the three game road trip.

She also knew dating a hockey player meant she would have to face her fear and past failure eventually. Even if a team event wasn't involved, it was such a big part of Quinns life. She wouldn't be able to avoid it forever. 

Does everyone skate? 

Usually yeah. Not all of the partners do, but most. 

I've never skated before. 

Really? 

Desert flower, remember? she sent with a picture of a blooming cactus. 

He laughed. There are lots of different skill levels there. People bring their kids and stuff.

Meaning what? That I'll be the only adult with training wheels? 

No wheels ;) 

She sent a gif of someone rolling their eyes. I'd love to go with you, but I really don't want to be the only one who doesn't know what they're doing. Could I persuade you to give me some private lessons? 

I guess that depends on what you’re willing to give me. ;) 

I mean, there’s not much I wouldn’t give you. What do you want? 

A long pause passed in their conversation. When she finally read his response on her way home, her cheeks pinked so much, she had to put her phone in her bag for fear of giving herself away on the train. 

That’s how they ended up at a mostly empty training rink the Wednesday night after he got home. 

She found him waiting for her in the lobby, surrounded by a swarm of kids all jockeying for his attention. It looked like a whole little league team was getting out of practice or a game right as he arrived. They were so excited, acting as if he came in just to see them. 

Sarah waited off to the side, watching him sign autographs and give advice, and talk to each of them. She was tired and hungry, but seeing Quinn in this element gave her a new side of him to admire. He was patient and kind, and invested. She remembered him telling her how he always liked to talk to kids because he remembered how much it meant to him when his favorite players were willing to stop and talk. Seeing that quite literally come full circle was a gift she hadn’t expected to see.  

When he finally looked up and met her gaze, he flashed her a grin and mouthed, thank you. 

Smiling in return, she nodded to an empty room off to the side before settling in with her laptop to work on her publication. 

A big sigh announced his presence a while later, as Quinn slid down the wall to sit next to her on the floor. “Sorry about that,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to her temple. 

“It’s fine. I always have stuff to work on, and seeing you with the kids is sweet.” 

“Winning me some brownie points?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows. 

“Like you even need them.”

Sarah closed her laptop and turned her head so they could finally say hello properly. 

He pulled her close to deepen the kiss. Even though he'd gotten back in town after midnight the night before, they hadn’t seen each other until now. He'd debated going to the aquarium after practice, but remembered they wouldn't let him back without a pass the last time he’d tried. Besides, he didn’t want to interrupt her work so close to finals. 

The urge to climb into his lap was so strong, Sarah had to pull back from the kiss before she made a public spectacle of herself. 

“I missed you,” he said, trailing a finger from her cheekbone to her jaw. It felt like the road trip was finally over now that she was back in his arms.

“I missed you, too.” 

“I have to confess something,” Sarah blurted, nerves eating her from the inside out as he showed her how to tie her skates.

Quinn looked up from pulling her laces tight.

“I’ve been skating before.” 

One of his eyebrows cocked up, “you have, have you?” 

“It was terrible. It was on a first date with this guy when I was a freshman, and I’m pretty certain the only reason he suggested it was so he could get his hands on me.” 

Quinn wrapped his hand around her calf and joked, “I guess it’s a good thing I’ve already had my hands on you, then.” 

“You’re not mad?” she said, surprised.

“About what? That I’m not popping your ice skating cherry?” 

Laughter barked out of her mouth before she explained, “no, that I lied. I mean, I didn’t really lie. We went on ice, on skates, but no real skating was involved.”

“Now I feel like you’re lying,” his voice was teasing. 

“After half a wobbly, too touchy lap, I fell and broke my wrist.” 

The bemused smile dropped off his lips, “oh my god, Sarah, why didn’t you tell me before?” 

Her bottom jaw moved as she worried the inside of her lower lip. “I didn't know when it would come up.” she said. “I mean, if anyone can teach me to skate, you can. But that's why I wanted it to be just us first.” 

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve broken lots of bones skating,” he said, stroking her leg. 

She smiled tightly. “I bet none of those were from you falling down.” 

“I don’t know, maybe? You’d have to ask my mom, but I fell plenty when I was learning, that’s really normal.” 

“It just feels like one of those things that I'll never live down, you know?”

“Well, you and I are the only ones that know now.” 

“Yeah and Josh Jackson and all those people at the Reno rec rink.” 

“You keep in touch with everyone who was there that night?” he joked, hoping she would see how ridiculous her worry was. 

A hand flew up to cover her face as she blushed. “I guess it just lives in my head every time I think about ice skating.” 

“I know the feeling, but it was one time seven years ago, right? And you’ve got a better teacher, now.” 

She dropped her hands so she could meet his gaze, giving him a hopeful smile. 

He changed the subject. “Are these too tight? Can you move your toes?”

“Yeah. I mean, no they're not too tight.”

He smiled, stood and held out a hand, “come on. I can't promise you won't fall, but I'll do my best.” 

As they walked through the tunnel to the rink, she said, “This is the weirdest feeling.”

“It can't be worse than wearing heels.”

“Have you ever worn heels?”

“Well, no,” he admitted. 

“Then you can't say a damn thing about it. At least in heels, the ball of your foot is on the ground. With this, it's like my feet are suddenly half an inch wide.”

“You're thinking too much.”

“What am I supposed to do, not think?”

“Don't think so much,” he said, stopping at the boards and turning around. “Okay, I'm going to get on and help you on, okay?”

She nodded. 

He bit back his smile at the determination on her face. “It's slippery, so be prepared.”

“Gee, thanks, Hughes,” she said, flatly. “I had no idea ice is slippery.”

He laughed. She’d never called him by his last name. Of course it would come out when she was nervous. 

“I'll have you the whole time. I won't let you go until you tell me to,” he promised, reaching to help her through. 

She stepped on and immediately over corrected, jerking back. 

He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her against him to keep them upright. “Calm down,” he said, trying to sound soothing. “I know it's a weird feeling.” 

In all actuality, he didn't know. He'd been skating so long it sometimes felt easier than walking.

 “Just hold on and let me pull you.” 

Skating backwards, he took her on a lap. Her fingers were hooked around his elbows, so he was forced to awkwardly hold the backs of her arms.

“Can you relax? I’ve got you.” 

She glanced down and felt her legs wobble. Visions of the ice rushing up to kiss her on the temple made her dizzy. 

“Look at me,” he said in a voice that couldn’t be ignored. 

Sarah met his eyes. The dim lights over the rink made them a sort of muddy green she’d never seen before. 

“If you keep looking down, you’re going to fall,” he said. “You go toward what you look at.” 

“I just want to make sure my feet are right.”

“Do you have to watch your feet when you’re walking?” 

“Well, no, but this is new.” 

“Sure, but once you get over the fact that you’re on the ice and used to your skates, it’ll start to feel more natural.”

“Yeah, I’ll just get over that.” 

He shook his head, and moved on. “Okay, start picking your feet up like you’re walking.” 

“Like I’m walking?” she repeated. “That seems really counterintuitive.” 

“It’s not that different from walking, you're just gliding instead.”

She leveled him with a deadpan, sarcastic look.

She was about to ask him how she was supposed to walk when she couldn’t lift her heel or push off with the ball of her foot, when she realized arguing his syntax wasn't going to get her anywhere. This was a case where she had to swallow her pride and ask for what she needed. 

“Can you break it down, like the physics of it, for me?” she asked. “It helps me to see all the steps before I do something.”

As he talked her through the mechanics of skating forward, she held onto his arm. She had so many questions he’d never considered, like how he used his edges to push off. 

Skating was so automatic on his part, he didn’t even have to think about it. He’d never had to break down what he was doing like this. 

Seeing how his legs worked up close and in slower motion helped her envision doing the same things herself. 

“Okay, come back here.” 

He moved in front of her again. 

“You make that look so easy,” she said, a bit of a whine in her voice. 

“Sarah,” he said, swallowing the bite in his tone, “I've been doing this for twenty years. I do this for a living. I'd hope I make It look easy. I couldn't take over writing one of your papers, or come into the aquarium and start taking care of Walter.”

“Yeah,” she said, resigned. 

“I know it's frustrating that you can't pick this up right away, but no one can. You can’t read your way into skating well.”

That touched a nerve and she glared at him. 

He let go of one of her hands so he could hold his up in surrender. “All I mean is that you just have to physically get used to it. How long did it take you to perfect your golf swing?” 

“That’s different.” 

“How is that different?” 

“I started that as a kid.”

“So? You can learn things now. You learn new things all the time.” 

“Yeah. It just feels so daunting. I really don’t want to look like an idiot in front of all your teammates.”

“No one will care. They’re just excited to see you. We can come back every night I’m in town if you want. Or you can just not skate.” 

That caused distress to fly over her face. “No. I can’t do that.” 

“Why not?” He glanced behind him out of habit, even though there was no one else on the ice. It was a clean sheet too, freshly zambonied after the pee-wee hockey game that ended right before they arrived. Perfect learning conditions. 

Sarah recentered herself by pulling a breath down her spine, “this is such a big part of your life. I want to be able to participate.” 

“Yeah?” he asked, a half smile lifting the right side of his mouth. 

“Yeah, and like you said, I have a better teacher now.” 

“Tell me about your day,” he said.  

“Okay,” she answered, dubious of his intentions. 

“It’ll help you to stop thinking about what your body’s doing. I think you’ll find it will sort itself out if you let it.” 

He could tell she didn’t really believe him, but went ahead anyway, telling him about the little boy at the aquarium that afternoon who had insisted he’d caught an octopus as big as Walter and thrown it back the last time he and his mom had gone fishing. 

“I mean, maybe he did,” she said, shrugging. “But his teacher gave me this look like, ‘don’t believe a single word he says’. I felt bad, She just looked so tired of him.” 

Quinn laughed and decided not to point out that she was skating perfectly naturally now that she was out of her head about it. “What happened in class?” 

“Well, even if I get a C on my comparative physiology final, I’ll still pass the class.” 

“That’s huge, Sarah,” he said. 

“Yeah, it's such a relief, but then, Paul dropped that he's adding a test on top of our publication. Thankfully it’s not a huge part of my grade, but still, more on the pile. He’s calling it a review, but that just means it’ll cover everything we’ve studied this term.” 

“That doesn’t seem fair for him to add that at the last second.” 

“Well, he can do what he wants, so,” she shrugged. “He said he thinks we need it. I think he's just being a controlling jackass.” 

“Can't you report him or something?”

“For what?”

“For changing the syllabus so late.”

“Well, he's the head of the program, so I can't complain to him, plus if I went to the dean, I'm pretty certain she'd tell me ‘this is graduate school, and you should grow up.’” 

Quinn winced. 

“Yeah. He's just a dick because he can be. He’s the lord over this little kingdom and he wants us all to know it.” 

She shook her head, “I’m sorry, we can be done talking about him.”

“You can keep complaining if you want.”

“No, it's okay. It just makes me more mad, which makes me not want to study, which only shoots me in the foot.” 

“Okay,” Quinn said, “I think you’re ready for me to be next to you.”

“What?” 

“Yeah, you’ve been skating fine for the last five minutes.” 

She looked down as if to confirm, “I have?” 

“It’s not like you were standing still.” 

“But you’ve been pulling me.” 

“I was, but I’ve mostly just been holding your hand, keeping distance. You've been moving yourself forward.”

“Really?” Shaking her head, Sarah laughed a little to herself, “you really are a better teacher.”

He gave her a wink and spun to stand next to her. 

“Keep talking,” he encouraged. 

“About what?” 

She didn’t know what to look at now. There were empty stands, and scratched glass, and the whole smooth sheet of ice, lines etching a curving lacey pattern around the perimeter. 

“Whatever you want.”

“I don't -” glancing down, she remembered his advice and jerked up. The sudden movement caused her to promptly fall on her rear with a frustrated grunt.

Her hands fell to her sides in a gesture that said, why is this so hard for me? 

“You're doing great.”

“I just fell down.”

“So? I fall all the time. You just need to learn to get back up.”

He did fall, and she was always so impressed with his ability to just pop back up and continue playing as if nothing happened. 

He coached her back onto her feet, and they continued around the rink as he told her about the road trip he’d just come home from. Only five days away, but the comeback overtime loss and two wins made it a huge confidence builder. 

He admitted that though some of the strain was lessened for the next month with their guaranteed spot in the finals, he still felt so much pressure to perform. 

“There was this moment on Friday, though, where we were just gelling, you know, and it felt like ‘we deserve this now.’” 

“Of course you deserve it. You work your ass off for that team, Quinn.” 

Throwing her a thankful smile, he said, “I mean we all do it together.”

“And you’re a big reason everyone is buying in.” 

“Look at you, learning hockey talk.” 

“That is something I can read my way into.” she joked. “Plus your mom explained a bunch of the idioms to me.” 

He laughed. 

She fell twice more, but got up each time. The last time, she even managed to do it without his help. 

“You’re doing great,” he praised, moving in front of her again, “you’ll be a natural in no time.” 

Pulling herself to him with their clasped hands she winked, “it's because I have the best teacher.” 

She was close enough now that he would just have to lean in to kiss her. He did, because he could. They were apart so much, it only made sense to take advantage when they were together. 

Whenever people kissed on ice rinks in movies, Sarah was always struck with what a dumb idea it was. It seemed incredibly stupid to not pay attention to what you were doing on such a volatile surface. 

In reality, when Quinn kissed her, she melted. It felt so romantic. Cold, but cozy with his warm body pressed against hers, and the confidence in knowing he wouldn’t let her fall. The only sound was the pleasant scrape of their skates on the ice. 

Suddenly, everything she’d stopped herself from saying over the past few weeks came bubbling up into her mouth. 

Just the night before, she’d felt on the cusp of saying something other than “I miss you,” at the end of their goodnight phone call. She had bit it back, not wanting that first time to happen over the phone. She felt like the moment had to be perfect. 

Fuck that, she thought, now. She didn’t want to hold it in anymore. Plus, wasn’t this moment perfect enough? 

Pulling away, she waited for him to open his eyes.

After a moment or two, Quinn realized she wasn’t teasing, and met her gaze, ���what’s wrong?” 

“Nothings wrong.” 

Suddenly, it felt too formal. They weren’t in the Elizabethan era where one declared their feelings in some kind of a grand speech, but she couldn’t not say it. It felt too disingenuous to keep holding it in. 

“I just…” she brushed her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck as she ran over a few possibilities in her mind rapid fire, dismissing them all for being too much. Honesty, it seemed, was proving to be the best policy. “I just really love you.”

Quinn could feel his eyes crinkling closed as his face melted into a goofy smile, one reserved only for family and people close to him.  

It felt like something broke open in his chest, finally set free. “I love you too.”

Sarah giggled and it came out a little watery. She never expected to cry when she told him, but her body always did like to cry over big emotions. 

Quinn wiped her tears away with his thumbs before tilting her face up to his. 

This kiss was softer, not as hurried. Desire giving way to something deeper – less fickle, and more settled. 

As they walked back to the locker room, Quinn realized, suddenly, that he'd left something unsaid. He tugged on her hand, and she turned. 

“I’m really proud of you,” he said. “I know you were really nervous.”

She leaned up to kiss him. “Thank you for being a very patient teacher.”

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[prettylittlels]

I Can See You

summary: You meet Rachel's costar at the academy gala, what will happen next? (tom blyth x actress!reader)

inspired by I Can See You (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

💋⚘️❤️‍🔥💥🍬💄

As an actress, I spend a 70% of my time meeting and interacting with actors, actresses, singers, directors, producers, and people who work in the same industry as i do. A 90% of those people are just passers, travelers that only visited my life. Only very few manage to stay, important enough to make me care for and about them: true friends. Like Rachel Zegler, for example. I met her at the 2022 Golden Globes afterparty, and we kicked off a nice friendship. And a rather weird one, might i add. Rach and I enjoy playing rather exquisite games: i make her try the most horrendous food i find, and she tries to find the perfect man for me.

-Rach, I already told you- i tell her, laughing without even trying - I've lost hope! You gotta accept that i don't have a love life!-

-You're lying to yourself! - she smiles with me- You think I haven't seen the way you look at every couple we meet?-

Maybe she was right. I haven't had a boyfriend in years, maybe I am a little touch-starved. But that was until I met him.

You brush past me in the hallway

And you don't think I, I, I can see ya, do ya?

I've been watchin' you for ages

And I spend my time tryin' not to feel it

As an actress, i spend a lot of time bring invited to galas and events. Tonights entertainment was the Academy's annual gala. I picked out a gorgeous black sparkly dress that caught everyones attention, as I imagined. Getting out lf the car, I slowly made my way to the red carpet, starting to pose for the flashing cameras. Shouts and screams came from everywhere i went. Not only for me, of course; in fact, thay were yelling Rachel's name too when i arrived. She came up to me and gave me a big hug, as we started to take pictures together. I also noticed that a certain co-star of hers, was looking our way. Don't you think I can't see you?

But what would you do if I went to touch you now?

What would you do if they never found us out?

What would you do if we never made a sound?

As an famous actress, I can't just do whatever I want and say whatever i please. The cameras are everywhere. But God, did I want to go talk to you.

'Cause I can see you waitin' down the hall from me

And I could see you up against the wall with me

And what would you do, baby, if you only knew?

That I can see you

As an actress, people expect me to be there when they need me, available for everyone and waiting for directions. But, only this time, I was waiting for something else to happen. When I walked down the hidden hallway on my way to the women's bathroom, you were there. I didn't want to do anything reckless! But here we are.

And we kept everything professional

But something's changed, it's somethin' I, I like

They keep watchful eyes on us

So it's best that we move fast and keep quiet

You won't believe half the things I see inside my head

Wait 'til you see half the things that haven't happened yet

Tom and I started dating shortly after the gala. Being with him was everything I needed: he's a gentleman, a caring person, a funny one, and of course, a very sexy one. The weeks passed and we were both as happy as ever. After the night we met, the cameras that caught our longing stares published the photos and the public strted going crazy, speculating and giving their opinion about our encounter. Oh, they have no idea.

That I could see you throw your jacket on the floor

I could see you make me want you even more

What would you do, baby, if you only knew?

That I can see you

They had no idea that how it was being In a relationship with tom. The envious fangirls wished they were me. They don't I know that I can see him for what he truly is. They don't know that I can see him discarding his clothes on the floor. Yes, even that leather jacket of his that I love so much

I could see you in your suit and your necktie

Passed me a note saying, "Meet me tonight"

Then we kiss, and you know I won't ever tell, yeah

And I could see you being my addiction

You can see me as a secret mission

Hide away and I will start behaving myself

I remember how I pulled you closer by your tie, and unbuttoned your shirt. How you admitted you've been watching me for ages. How we agreed to keep this a sceret, However, I knew he'd be like a drug. And I get drunk on it whenever he's around

I can see you.

I can see you, Tom.

[mochatsin]

WHEN MC CAN DRAW

Drawing and the arts is one of the things you’re most passionate about. There’s a lot of things, and certain demons, that are out there to give you inspiration to draw. How will the brothers react when they find out you’re a great artist?

literally in the middle of drawing when I thought about this and i'm wondering why it took me this long to think of an Artist!MC prompt damn. Enjoy reading!

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Lucifer

He already had a vague idea that you have a keen eye for the arts when he took you to a gallery once. You’re familiar with a lot of paintings in the human realm, but none of them could quite compare to the styles down here in Devildom.

Lucifer wanted to teach you more about the cultures of Devildom through painted histories and stories which is why he took you to the gallery, and he notices how observant you are of the details on the artwork. He assumed maybe you’re just very educated with the arts up in your world.

Though one day he found you in your room trying to draw a piece with the styles similar to the paintings you both saw the other day. The linework and colors are very on point, Lucifer would have assumed this wasn’t done by your own hands if he saw it displayed on the walls. 

“You’re quite talented if you drew all this after just one art gallery tour.” Lucifer says as he moves closer to further inspect your art. If you ask him how to improve it or how the method works, he would be happy to give you some tips or pointers. 

“As impressive as this is, I would like to see something you’ve made in your own style.” Lucifer would want you to show something that speaks more about you, not about Devildom. He’s curious to see what makes your art style original. He wants to see you take pride in whatever you create of course. 

He’d love to have one of your artworks be framed somewhere in the house. You can use his office for that peace and quiet so that none of his brothers would disturb you while you worked. Lucifer wanted it framed in his room for him to enjoy, though after his brother’s protests and one heated dinner discussion, the piece was placed in the living room instead for everyone. 

Mammon

Mammon doesn’t really have the best sense of boundaries when it comes to your room, so he ends up barging through the doors to see what you were up to and maybe try to whisk you away for a bit of gambling for the evening. Though he finds you on your desk doing some homework, papers scattered on your bed.

You tell him you’re busy working on a project so he whines but stays with you in your room. You have homework about summoning circles so you had several discarded drafts resting on your bed. Mammon can’t help but go through the papers while he waits out of pure boredom. 

Mammon eventually spots under the pile a few of your own personal artworks you’ve made. You forgot to keep them away since they got buried underneath all those papers. “EY!! This ain’t part of a class project right?! This looks freakin’ fantastic!”��

You can tell he’s being genuine about his compliments just by seeing the look on his face. “I-I'm not just sayin’ that cuz you’re my human! I know a gold mine when I see one yaknow?” Mammon says while he goes through the pile to see if there are more works out there for him to admire. He might be tempted to steal one of them just so he can piece of something you’re passionate about so close to him. 

He would definitely urge you to sell some of them for profit, put up commissions online or advertise it on RAD. At first you wondered if this was part of his money-making schemes… he admits it was at first but he wants you to succeed in this if it’s something you genuinely want to do.

“You gotta cut me some slack sometimes ya know? I bet you’ll make bank outta this. I know my old plans for quick grimm haven't worked out, but this one I'm SURE won’t fail” his enthusiasm is almost contagious. Regardless of your decision, Mammon is happy enough to sit back and enjoy your artwork. 

Levi

He is going to be so ecstatic knowing that you’re actually really good at drawing in any form of medium. Levi found out one day when he asked to borrow your notes for class and you lend him your notebook. He was flipping through the pages until he noticed that you’ve been doing little doodles at the back. “I-is that…”

Your peaceful little afternoon got chaotic when you heard an excited scream from down the hall, followed by rampant footsteps that got louder in a matter of seconds until your door opened. Levi has your notebook in hand, with the biggest grin plastered on his face. 

“Y-YOU COULD DRAW RURI-CHAN?!” Levi doesn’t even give you the time to speak when he shows you the doodles and starts going on a rant on how you captured the details of her outfit so perfectly. Even the magic staff is actually on point! 

There’s times he would be peeking by your door while you’re doodling something in your room. Levi wanted to ask if you could draw his favorite characters but he’s too shy to do so, but he’ll be the happiest when you agree to it. 

“I-if you need the references i have a few!” He would say ‘few’ but ends up giving you what’s almost an entire album of art references that you could use. If you want, he can even take the figurines of said characters off his shelf (which is rare) so you can have a better look at it from all angles. 

Levi would definitely have it posted on the walls, keeping all your artworks like a new collection. He would gush about how he wishes he could draw because it’s another way of expressing your love for something you care about. Would definitely commission you for certain things because he doesn’t want to keep asking you for free art.

Satan

Recently he got you hooked on this detective novel series, and you both spend a lot of time together just talking about your favorite parts. Satan loves that chase scene between the detective and thief since it was written so well, it’s almost like you can play the scene in your head.

He’s with you in his room, sitting on the couch with the book propped up by your knees. He assumes you’re just rereading the book and does his own thing. He likes that about your company where the silence is comforting, though there are times you ask Satan what he thinks the detective or the thief looks like in his head.

By the time Satan had to answer one more query that he realized you’re not actually reading the book. He sees that you’re holding onto a pen as you scribble something behind the book, so he decides to sneak behind you while you’re distracted out of curiosity.

He’s surprised to find you drawing on a notebook, looking at the chapter of the book with the chase scene that he mentioned the other day. “You’re… drawing the scene?” He asked, the corners of his lips tugging into a smile. He’s impressed that you got the compositions so well too. To him, you brought this scene to life. 

“Is this why you were asking me all those questions? Well, I’d say you perfectly captured the scene and-” He’d talk about the details you’ve drawn and how it matches what’s written in the book, like a professional critique. He’d love to see the piece once you finish, and even see all your other works you’ve done in the past as well. One cat drawing would make him excited for sure. 

One time you made him a bookmark by using your art for the designs. The brothers know that Satan doesn’t use those as often because he tends to finish books in one sitting, but he began to have that cute little bookmark pressed between the pages of his current book. Not only is the design so perfect, it’s from his precious human too.

Asmo

Asmo is adoring the attention he’s been getting from you recently whenever he would make a little fashion show in his room with all the new outfits he’s bought. He loves the awe he hears from you and how you eye him up and down after he strikes a pose. 

He even saw you buying a magazine with him on the cover, and he just can’t help but feel giddy at the thought of how much you probably adore him because who wouldn’t? You must really love how he looks, right? Asmo even thought of giving you a private show just for your eyes. 

Though he found out eventually that you’re using the poses in his magazines as reference when he saw that you’re trying to copy the pose he made on the cover. “I’m rather offended that you didn’t reference me, the source material itself! I’m always ready to be your model, hun!” 

Asmo would make the perfect model because being in model magazines, he’s used to holding on poses for periods of time without complaint. He’s not shy about his body either so you can ask him to be in any sort of pose for you (but you have to stop him from being not so family friendly when you try to fix his position).

If you’re good at designing clothes then Asmo is going to fall for you even harder. He would admire all the designs you can do, and if you’re open to suggestions then as someone who works and shops frequently at Majolish, he would have a lot of good ideas. He’ll have the connections to make your designs come to life and model it for you.

“I just know if you posted these fine works on Devilgram, it’ll get you tons of views for sure! Especially if the muse is me” Asmo says with a wink as he admires your art. If you made an account then he’ll be loud about it on his social media, wanting people to feast their eyes on it.

Beel

He does a lot of home workouts so often you spot him doing a lot of stretches or lifts around the house. There’s even times you offer to help like sitting on his back while he does his push ups or just being his little moral support. 

Though he noticed all the attention you’re giving on his muscles recently. You offered to wipe off the dirt and sweat he got from his Fangol practice, and Beel sees how much you’re staring intently at his muscles while you wipe him dry with a towel. “MC… is there something wrong?” 

It's only then you realize that your eyes have been glued to him for so long so you decide to explain. You tell Beel that you’ve been sketching recently with someone of his body type but you can’t seem to get the muscles correctly. Hearing that makes Beel smile though. 

“Well, if you want me to help I could. But I want to see your works, if that’s okay with you” Beel said. He’s not much of an artist himself (Satan notes that Beel’s art still haunts him to this day), so he’s very supportive knowing that you can draw.  

He has this awe in his face like how he looks when the restaurant serves him the biggest platter of food as soon as he sees your artworks. Beel is happy you’re sharing such talent with him. “This piece is so colorful. It reminds me of the rainbow layered parfait we had the other day… oh, now I'm hungry.” Even if Beel can eat books and things that aren’t exactly food, he never once tried that with your artworks. 

He’d invite you more often to his little home workouts so you can study his muscles more closely. Beel would love it if you sit on his back while he does push ups as you draw. The sound of the pencil scribbling would bring him to focus.  

Belphie

There’s an upcoming event for RAD that requires a lot of decorations. Since a lot of people are busy with their own tasks, you and Belphie were paired up to think of possible decor for the stage.

Belphie complained how Asmo or Levi should’ve been here instead but since they’re both in charge of the outfits, then he’ll settle with this because at least it requires minimal work. You both were trying to discuss the backdrop designs and the props but he fell asleep midway. 

Belphie wakes up in a few minutes later to the sound of scribbling pens when he saw you creating the designs. You asked him to pick from one of the sets you made but he’s too stunned to even decided when all of them are so good. “You made all of that while I was asleep?” Belphie is in a state of disbelief. 

The one that struck him the most is the starry sky landscape. For someone who loves to watch the stars, this one was particularly mesmerizing for Belphie. So out of personal bias he chose that one.

He never stopped bugging you about your art, always wanting to see what you’re drawing when he spots you on your notebook. He’s not much of a ‘draw me next’ kind of person, but he’d be absolutely happy if you did. More so if you drew him and Beel together. 

Whenever you’re drawing, Belphie wants to take a nap by your lap while you do your work. He likes the look you make whenever you’re trying to figure out something in your art before he drifts off to sleep. His favorite part is waking up to see that you’ve already finished your piece so he gets to admire it first.

[dbnightingale24]

You Didn't Have To Say Yes...

A Pete Brenner Love Story

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My first Patreon story!! I decided that Pete needs a love story, cause I feel like he gets shit on a lot. He's not a bad guy, he just has some...bad habits.

Thank you to everyone for your patience (once again), and I hope you all enjoy! As always, thank you to @fuckingbye for my amazing moldboard! I love it and I love you! I wrote this in a week (I don't know what's going on with my brain as of late), and I'm really excited for it!

Word Count: 49,380

Warnings: Pete Brenner, Smut, MINORS DNI 18+, Swearing, Daddy Kink, Drinking, Smoking, Drug Use, Angst, Self Hate, Semi-Public Sex (fingering), Open Marriage (Toxic Relationship), Abuse, Fluff, Family Drama, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Abortion ...I think that's it? I'm pretty sure I covered all the bases...yeah

Songs That Inspired This Chapter: If You're Feeling Down, I Just Wanna Make You Happier Baby

Summary: Pete Brenner is perfectly fine with everyone continuing he's a selfish piece of shit. That is, until you walked into his life, and turned everything upside down.

~~

I do not give consent/permission for my stories/works to be posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

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“C’mon, give me a smile,” Pete beams, his words tailing a slight slur as you make someone else’s Manhattan.

“I think it’s time for you to go, Mr. Brenner,” you giggle dismissively, flipping your hair and shaking up the cocktail mixer.

“I wonder how much sweeter my name would sound if you were underneath me,” he grins and lifts his eyes at you. You ignore the heat in the pit of your stomach, not wanting to surrender to his smarmy charm.

Pete Brenner doesn’t give up easily, you’ll give him that. 

“I’m sure your wife is happy that you’re always here, trying to bring me home instead of spending time with her,” you nod with a glance towards his left hand. A waitress comes over, picking up the next round of drinks.

“I’ve told ya, she has her fun and I have mine.”

“Cause that’s what every woman loves to hear. Woo me even more, Brenner,” you laugh, turning around and getting started on the next drink.

“Your ass looks amazing in those shorts.”

You laugh as you call over your shoulder, “I’m ordering you a cab.”

“I can take myself,” he mutters with an exasperated sigh. You know he’s pulling out his wallet, frustrated that you’re not leaving with him again.

“We go through the same motions every time, Pete. I don’t want you driving home drunk.”

“You refuse to sleep with me, but you care about my well being? I think you’re finally startin’ to warm up to me.”

“I don’t sleep with married men, Pete. Find a new dream to chase. You know the drill, the cab will be here in ten.”

Pete Brenner came stumbling into your life about a year and a half ago, and he’s been a character since day one. He was down on his luck, drinking until he could barely stand, refusing help from anyone, always ending with the same mantra every night:

“I’ve made this fucking far on my own, I can make it to my own fucking house!”

No matter how much you pushed, he wouldn’t accept help from you. He always refused service from everyone except you. At first he didn’t say anything, he just watched you and let his eyes roam over your body. He never said out loud that he wanted you, but he didn’t exactly go out of his way to hide it either. He was so obvious he never needed to say it explicitly. The glint of his gold wedding band always caught your attention under the sparkling lights of the nightclub, but seeing as he spent every night there until closing, you didn’t think it made much of a difference.

Until one night, eight months ago.

“There she is! My favorite girl!” he beamed, a cocky smile cemented on his lips.

The woman sauntering next to him didn’t seem to think too highly of the nickname he called you. 

“I’ll take a bourbon, and this sweet little thing next to me will have a Strawberry Daiquiri,” he told you, though his eyes never left your chest.

“Oh? Wedding anniversary?” you half smiled as you tried to put on your workplace happy face even though you mentally thought to yourself ‘he can’t be that sleazy to bring her to this dump on their wedding anniversary.’

“Got a new job, sweetheart,” he smirked. You didn’t miss the mischievous shine in his eyes in the club’s half light.

He was a bold mother fucker to bring his wife along just to flirt with you in plain view of her. Not many men had that much audacity when it came to you. 

“I’m Y/N,” you offered with a smile.

You genuinely pitied the woman.

“Tina,” she responded with a plastic smile.

Big boobs, micro-waist, big fake blonde hair, and Pete had ordered her a strawberry daiquiri. She fit the description of most “Tina’s” that came into the club. However, the large rock on her ring finger was nothing to scoff at.

“Oh, don’t pout, honey,” Pete taunted her. “This is what you wanted, right? Me to get a brand new important job and show you off? That’s what you’ve been bitchin about for months, isn’t it? So smile, would ya? You got ya wish.”

Someone was feeling prickly that night.

“First round of drinks are on the house. Congrats, Pete,” you smiled as you set both drinks down.

“Keep ‘em comin’, sweetheart,” he winked at you, handing you a hundred.

While it may have not been anything new to you (Pete always tipped generously), Tina’s eyes went wide and you didn’t miss the way her cheeks burned and blushed with anger.

You wanted to stay as far away from them as the night allowed.

You happily took shots with some of your regulars as the night went on and evened out. Your friends started showing up for their shifts, which helped your sour mood from earlier in the day (even though your ex-fiancee showed up outside of your apartment to harass you yet again). The more you drank, the more you started to dance along with the music; which meant Pete couldn’t keep his gaze off you.

“Why are you single?” Pete asked once his wife got up to go to the bathroom.

“You don’t strike me as the cruel type, Mr. Brenner,” you grinned as you made him another drink.

“Curiosity doesn’t equate to cruelty.”“You’re still here with your wife.”

“She’s in the bathroom.”

“Why’d you bring her tonight?”

“You heard me, this is what she wanted,” he cynically scoffed.

“They’re a lot nicer clubs than this one.”

“Can’t all be that nice if you don’t work there, sweetie.”

You both looked at each other for a moment before you heard, “Darlin’!” coming from the other end of the bar.

“Comin’ Charlie,” you laughed, breaking the stare with him, and shook your head. You used the bar to push yourself off away, down to it’s other end while Pete sipped the last of his remaining drink.

You didn’t need glasses to see that Pete Brenner was an attractive man, and he was important...well, he did his best to imply his importance (as if it would get him far with you). You’d be a liar if you said you hadn’t thought about going a few rounds with him in the bedroom, but you didn’t sleep with married men. 

No matter how hard they tried, you had a set of both personal and professional rules that you abided by.

For the rest of the night, you stayed away from Pete and his wife unless they needed a refill. It was almost as if Tina was trying to make him regret his choice of celebration because she was throwing back her drinks like they were water. The night went smoothly enough, nevertheless, until you went outside for a smoke break.

“You should really quit those things,” came the voice of the last man you wanted to see or hear from.

“What do you want, Mark?”

“I come in peace, Sweet Thing,” he laughed, putting his hands up.

You’d always hated the nickname.

“Didn’t get enough arguing this morning? What else could you possibly have to say?” you questioned while you exhaled your frustration.

“You know you miss me, baby.”

“I miss the peace I had in my life before I met you.”

“You’re still working at this dump?”

“I have bills to pay.”

“You know I’d be more than happy to take care of you.”“Don’t want it. Nor do I want anything from you,” you snapped with a growl.

“Yet you drove yourself here in the car I bought for you,” he sneered, nodding in the direction of where the car was parked.

“Take the fucking car back then, Mark. If it means you’ll leave me the fuck alone, take back every single thing you ever gave me.”

Snickering, he made his way to you and grabbed your arm saying,“don’t be bitter when I know just how sweet you’re capable of being.”

With a scoff, you threw down your cigarette and bludgeoned it, “fuck this.”

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going? Enough with the goddamn attitude, Sweet Thing-”

“Let me go!”

“You’re coming with me-”

“Let her go!” you heard Pete yell as he quickly made his way over to you, leaving his wife to stumble to their car all alone.

She looked slack jawed from Pete to you, before her stare turned venomous and settled on you. It’s just what you needed on top of everything else; his prized Barbie play-toy thinking you were fucking her husband. 

Great.

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Read the rest of the story here

[ironbabey]

July

Peter Parker x Reader

angst, maybe fluff?

Word Count: 1k

Inspired by the song July by Noah Cyrus

~~~~~~~~

I've been holding my breath, I've been counting to ten, over something you said

“So uh, what do ya say? Wanna give it a shot?” Please say yes please say yes please say yes-

“I’m sorry, I really am, but I’m gonna have to say no.”

No. He said no.

It took you months to work up the courage to finally tell him how you felt, ironically you told yourself the worst he could say was no. Fuck, it hurt.

You were crushed. “Oh uh, that's okay. We can just stay friends.” It’s not okay, you don’t want to be friends. Well, you do. You also wanted-no, hoped- for something more.

He smiled, god you loved that smile. It never failed to make your heart skip a beat, even breaking it at the same time.  “Glad this won’t change our friendship. I care about you a lot.” He says, you can hear the pity in his voice.

He cared, just not in the way you wanted.

I've been holding back tears, while you're throwing back beers, I'm alone in bed

You were always told rejection hurt but you didn’t think it’d be this painful. Peter went out while you were sulking in your bed. There’s more fish in the sea, right? You shouldn’t have fallen for him, everyone told you not to, and yet here you are.

How could you be so stupid?

Of course he didn’t like you.

You were nothing compared to her.

You didn't have the perfect teeth, the perfect hair, the perfect skin, the perfect...anything. You were just you.

You stupidly thought that it would be enough for him, she didn't even remember him, but you made new memories with him.

You know I, I'm afraid of change. Guess that's why we stay the same

You two were fighting now. It's your fault anyways. You lashed out on him just because he hadn’t reached out to you since that day. He's ignored your texts, calls, hell you even tried an email for the fun of it. He stilled ignored you.

The day you confessed really fucked things up.

You decided to be the bigger person and show up at his door. He would've known you were going over if he read your messages.

“I thought we agreed that wouldn’t change us. You said you wanted to be friends so why are you being such a dick?”

 “I’m being a dick? Oh, that’s real funny coming from you. I have a life full of other people, not just you. I don’t see why I have to be the one to do everything.”

You bit your lip and looked at the ground, embarrassed that you were acting childish, “No, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

So, tell me to leave, I'll pack my bags, get on the road

Peter let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair, the soft hair you used to play with during the times you'd study together. “I think you should go. I can’t handle this—you—right now.”

You refused to cry in front of him. “Yeah, okay.” You grabbed your bag and slammed the door shut on your way out. You fucked everything up, didn’t you?

Find someone that loves you better than I do, darling, I know

A week went by, and he finally texted you, asking you to go over and talk it out. In the end you were still his best friend, and he didn't want to lose you.

You picked up a photo that was in a beautiful golden frame on the coffee table, you knew who the woman was, Peter talked about her all the time, and it killed you. You thought he was over her.

 “What are you doing with that?” He grabbed the framed photo from your hands as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

You blinked back the tears that were threatening to come out, “It was just sitting here, she’s pretty. Really pretty.”

Peter smiled, “Yeah, she was. The greatest too.”

‘Cause you remind me everyday, I’m not enough but I still stay

You two sat in uncomfortable silence. He wanted to make up, wanted things to be normal again, but you had other plans. You wanted answers. “What does she have that I don’t? What’s so different?”

He groaned. “Please, don’t start this right now.”

You stood up from the couch, “No! I want to know why you’re after someone who moved on. Someone who doesn't even rem-“

“She was the only one there for me through all of it! She helped me from beginning to end! I ruined everything just to make sure she got into the school she worked so hard for!" His voice went soft, he couldn't hold back the tears that went streaming down his face. His brown eyes were hardly visible through them, "She was all I had. She was the only girl that ever looked my way and actually liked me.”

Then what am I?

I've done a lot of things wrong, Loving you being one. But I can't move on

“What?”

“Then what am I?”, you repeated deep down you knew you were being a little selfish, but he had no right to say you didn't care, “I’ve been there for you. I’ve laughed with you, cried with you, I even fought with you and you’re still tossing me aside?”

“Listen-“

“No! You listen to me! I’ve done nothing but love and care about you but clearly that’s not enough! Nothing is ever enough for you! I-I’m not enough.”

Peter stood to hug you. To tell you that you was more than enough. To tell you he was just afraid of being more than what you were now.

If you want me to leave, then tell me to leave, and baby, I'll go

You moved away from his attempted hug. How dare he cry when it was him who was hurting you? “N-No, you don’t get-get to cry.” you choked out through your own tears.

“I’m sorry please just understand.” He begged.

“Tell me to leave. Tell me you don't want to see me again and I’ll stop. I’ll leave you alone just like you want.” That’s not what he wanted, not at all. He wouldn't know what to do with himself if you left him too.

“That’s not-I want you to stay.”

You remind me every day, I'm not enough, but I still stay

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

[witch-hazels-musings]

Hello Hazel! Hope you've been doing alright! I'm here for the thaumaturgy event, so I'll get to request; i wish to have a divination with alhaitham, with some frankincense, lavender, and a yellow candle too. Thank you in advance, and hope you have a great weekend ahead! (⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠)✨

Frankincense (confidence), Lavender (comfort, calm), Yellow Candle (success, creativity) Alhaitham x gn reader | Divination Ritual warning: slight anxiety about research paper

You tried to minimize your fidgeting but the ticking clock, the shuffling of books and focused feet, and the subtle rattle of Althaitham's clothes were trying your patience. You cracked your knuckles for the tenth time and turned to the window.

Below, people went on about their days. You could see them, small and uncaring to the quiet stress you swore seeped from the halls of the Akademiya. In a way you were jealous. Jealous of how frivolous and free their days were while you were stuck in this glass dome, surrounded by books and students all competing to outshine each other.

You thought a little friendly competition was fine. A good rivalry did wonders to boost output and progress, but what you found wrapped in the guise of innovation and discovery was more like a war where both sides liked to break the rules.

Alhaitham hummed quietly to himself. You glanced his way just in time to see him mark something in the margins of your work. "Were my calculations incorrect?"

"Those are fine," he replied and turned the page. It felt like several hours passed before he returned the sheets of paper to the small folder and slid the whole packet across the table.

"What did you think?" you asked, almost too eagerly as you snatched the file and fell into the chair opposite him. Without waiting, you scanned the papers inch by painstaking inch.

"I found the overall composition adequate. To draft a thesis on the Composition of Elemental Reactions is not necessarily a creative one."

You nodded and scanned his notes on page two. "I know, trust me. But none of the articles I read explored the mental and physical toll on the body of a vision user so I figured this might be worthwhile. Oh, what did you think about the section on the Degradation of Synapsis? Were my charts detailed?"

"They leaned toward your point, however -"

"I know. My sample size is way too small. It's kinda hard to convince people to let me poke around in their minds, ya know. But, if they make me a Dastur I'll be able to get more funding. Huh. You didn't like this?" You slid the paper across the table to Alhaitham. He glanced at it for less than a second.

"The points are contradictory."

"What? How?"

Alhaitham pointed to the document and you leaned forward to get a better view. It was hilarious how obvious it became when he explained it. Though you spent almost an entire year on this project, he seemed to understand it in ways you could never. It was frustrating but also inspiring. One day you hoped to be of equal standing.

That's why you fought so hard. So you could be seen by him, noticed. He felt little for social engagements, and rarely participated in group activities but when it came to study, research, and the unknown, his attention opened up and drew you in like falling sand through widening cracks.

"I see," you said but you were distracted. Distracted by his eyelashes, the way his hair fell over them when he looked down, the elegance of his lips when he spoke. You were transfixed and absolutely not focused on what he was saying.

"You're doing that thing again," he commented and slid the paper back to you.

"What thing?"

"Staring at me."

Your cheeks erupted in heat. "I was listening to you, I swear."

"Of course you were," he said, the slightest hint of amusement tugging at his lips. "Do you have what you need then?" he asked.

"I think I do, yeah." But you really weren't sure. This was the culmination of all your work, the chance to prove to everyone here you were worthy. To prove to those who doubted you, your parents, the scholars, to Alhaitham. To yourself. You wanted this.

"When is your presentation?"

"Two days from now. I want to throw up," you joked, reordering your papers and trying to keep your hands from shaking. "Thanks for looking it over. I'll take some time tonight to review them and make changes."

"Best to you then." Alhaitham rose. Normally you would have felt sad at the sudden parting but this was his way. When duty was done, so was he. You pinched the edge of the papers so they sat neatly in their folder when something warm and looming drew your eyes upward. Alhaitham stood beside you, his palm flush against the table, his hair dangling just within view. It took everything in you to fall off the other side of your chair. "When you first approached me, I had my concerns about your tenacity. Kindheartedness paves the way for little advancement in the Akademiya. Yet, in that time I have witnessed your resolve, and seen the beliefs you hold from beginning to end. And though I have and will continue to caution you, it seems I can put worry to rest as it's reasonable to assume you will not be led astray."

You gazed at him, surprised and moved by his words. "That's like, the nicest thing you've ever said to me." You chuckled and hoped he didn't notice the rim of tears threatening to spill over.

"Thank you," he said, holding little reaction to the sound of your laughter as it filled your little corner of the library. "You have more work to do."

"Aha, yes. I do. Thank you again."

He nodded and lifted off the table. "Should you require a space to practice, you are welcome to find me in my office. I will be sure to leave my day undisturbed so you may come when you wish."

You froze, blinked. "Oh, okay. T-thanks."

He stared at you for a moment before reaching out to touch your Akasha. A soft ping filled your head followed by a message: a series of numbers. "What is -?"

"The code to my office. It will be locked when you arrive." You stared at the numbers, your heart thudding in your chest. Alhaitham moved but stopped a few strides away and looked over his shoulder. "This may be obvious but do not share that with anyone."

"Of course," you said before watching him walk through the open, sun-filled library while your hand hovered above your ear unable to focus on anything other than the lingering sensation of his fingers against it.

Thaumaturgy Anthology (October 11-13, 2024)

Master Anthology

This event is based on spells and rituals. Inspiration does not equal understanding; liberties have been taken. All content is owned by Witch Hazels Musings, theft of these images and stories will result in immediate action.