#I love scratch and Molly sure

[bennydwight]

Scratch, choking back tears: Sure whatever not like I care either way or anything

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Prologue

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

The cupcake is smashed. Pink icing and gaudy star-shaped sprinkles coat the interior of the box, and the pastry itself has devolved into crumbs. You just stare at it. It had cost you seventeen dollars. It was expensive, yeah. But you’d spent the last three months walking past it every morning and afternoon in the bougie cafe’s windows. You’d waited. You’d wanted.

And it was destroyed. Completely. The perfect swirl of the buttercream was no more. The single, delicate flower made of frosting had lost half it’s petals. You weren’t sure how you could eat it. The wrapping had been warped, but maybe a tea spoon would work?

You let your head fall into your hands, a sob wracking your shoulders. And then less than a second later you swallow down the feeling, and stride over to your shitty apartment’s tiny kitchen. You grab a lighter, a plastic wine glass and the bottle of white wine Molly had given you earlier today. You hadn’t told her what happened yet, but she could tell something had. She’d gave you the wine, a hug, and the promise to always be by your side.

Despite today’s circumstances, despite this week’s circumstances, despite this decade’s circumstances, you were going to have a good birthday getting black-out drunk.

You weren’t going to let yourself sink into one of your funks. Even if it was the worst day of the year by far. Even if it was the second worst birthday of your life.

You just don’t. It’s not allowed.

Your phone rings. Sliding it out of your pocket, you stare blankly at the name on the screen. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Malcom. One of George’s friends. You reject the call, block the number, and slide your phone back in your pocket. See? Dealing with things like an adult. Not throwing a temper tantrum, not crying, not… well, destroying your life in an epic meltdown. You’d had a few of those. Still, despite your obvious erraticness, you hadn’t been fired this year. Yay!

You told yourself you were getting better, even as the universe seemingly conspired against your happiness. You were kind of convinced it was.

Turning, you play with the cap on the wine, walking over to your old ratty couch and falling into it. The beast groans at the contact, but you pay it no mind. The thing was probably older than you, and you were celebrating your twenty-first today.

You were an orphan in Gotham, it was not your first time drinking. Molly had dragged you to so many awful parties over the years. But this wine was probably the fanciest you’d ever been given. Scratch that, definitely was. You pour yourself a glass, stick the birthday candle half-hazardly into the largest chunk of cupcake, and grab the remote.

The only true comfort you can get on this day. A woman, a reporter. She speaks, but you can’t really hear what she’s saying. You chug down a glass of the wine, apologising in your head to Molly, and then pour yourself another.

It takes a few minutes, but your muscles relax, and her words tune into focus.

“Today’s memorial, is once again sponsored by the Wayne foundation.”

Yeah, because they’re the only charity organisation in the city. The family of billionaires were debatably the only good ones in existance. Debtable because you weren’t sure if they were good enough themselves. As an orphan who’d known the cruelty of the system yourself, you were a mix of bitter and grateful towards them. Sure, they’d been the only thing that kept you out of true poverty. You were still an awful bitch about it.

You always had been the jealous type. The other kids who got better backpacks or toys or whatever had you seething with fury. The multitude of orphans Bruce Wayne risen out of poverty were not safe from your envy. It didn’t matter if you were… Well, a little bit, just a teeny-tiny-tiddly-little bit… obsessed. Obsessed with them. Kind of manic about it, actually.

You were working on it. Today was a bad day, and you were a little too raw. So, like every little dumb animal on the planet, you went straight to your creature comforts. You pretended you were a roman eating and drinking on their chaise lounge, watching their magnificent entertainment.

Delusional. Your sofa was falling apart at the seems, your cupcake was debris and your entertainment was a memorial service. Wine was good, though.

Gotta focus on the good parts.

You watch the TV screen, the reporter’s voice drifting in and out of focus. There was a family photo of the Waynes and their family friends, all in perfect suits and dresses and pearls and fancy watches. You’d bet that those little accessories were worth more than a year of your rent.

And you lived in fucking Gotham, both the most expensive city to live in, and the worst at the same time. A miracle, truly.

Anyway, they were all stunningly beautiful, even some of the guys. God knows how much the internet went on about Richard Grayson’s long eyelashes. You’d always been enamored with Dick’s good looks. Even Damian Wayne who had only turned nineteen a few months ago and was three years younger than you was already being fawned over by the tabloids.

Gotham’s newest young rich bachelor. Bitterly envious, that was you. You didn’t like that emotion, though, so you turned your attention to others. Namely, delusion.

You let yourself get swept up in daydreams. Of having a rich family, of one so close knit as the Wayne’s. Of having a handsome, loving, kind partner. You don’t let yourself dream about your real family, of a George that was faithful.

You just don’t.

Maybe someone like Tim Drake. Loyal, everyone who knew him described him as loyal. His romances with Bernard Dowd and Stephanie Brown were famous. There were hundreds of papparazzi photos of him with big bundles of roses and a sweet look on his face. You thought someone like Tim Drake would probably be like one of the heroes in your romance novels. Something silly like a meet cute in an airport, or maybe a bookstore or a cafe. He was pretty famous in Gotham’s niche hipster coffee scene, right?

Yeah, you could see it now. Some dumb but cute scene where you get confused and accidentally take his order. You get the same drink, and bond over your shared love of caramel syrup. Like he didn’t live on the opposite side of the city from you, and you probably couldn’t afford whatever fancy shit he drunk. Italian coffee beans versus… well, you didn’t actually know what you bought. You knew it didn’t taste very good, but it was dirt cheap.

What were you doing? Ah, yes, silly daydreams about romance.

But even as you think of Tim, Dick Grayson was so pretty, and he’d had his fair share of partners too. Someone with such an angelic face had to have a personality to match, and the media agreed. Of course you didn’t really know what he was like, this was all just fantasy. Other than numerous tabloid interviews and television, which suggested he had a kind heart and a love for bad jokes you truly knew nothing about the guy. Still, he’d be the golden retriever trope, you think. Or the knight in shining armor, saving his heroine from one of the many disaster’s plaguing Gotham and confessing his love in one big final act. His meet cute would be the airplane one. The blue of his eyes, it makes you think of the sky. You’d take his seat, but he’d be super sweet about it. Like he didn’t have a private jet, and would never be caught on economy.

You think Damian Wayne could play a good romance lead as well. From what you’d seen, he seemed to have a terrible personality, which was perfect for any modern romance. A classic enemies to lovers, with some bickering. Maybe he’d have secretly loved her the entire time, and maybe there’d be a good grovel at the end. So, appreciating his character, he’d have to have a meet ugly. Probably get stuck in an elevator with him or something, and he’d get to display his keen intellect and argumentative nature.

You swirl your wine, nodding your head. Brilliant ideas today, you should talk to Molly more. She’d definitely appreciate your wisdom. She wanted to be a screen writer one day, and all this would be very helpful. She was going to college for it. You couldn’t afford college.

Maybe you were drunk. Maybe you were a genius. It was hard to tell, so you take another sip. That’ll help you figure things out.

“As always, the Wayne families’ faces are morose as they celebrate the late Jason Todd.”

And as always, you felt an odd connection with the dead man. Your lives had both technically ended the same day, in the same grand calamity. Sure, you were still technically alive. Kicking about. But everyone you loved dying in one fell swoop, right in front of your eyes? You felt more like a ghost these days.

Weren’t you supposed to be fighting those sorts of thoughts off? Whatever, it was too much effort anyway.

Your slight obsession with the Wayne family had been initially started by Jason Todd. You hadn’t been thinking about him as much recently with George in your life, but he swung right back into place as soon as George left your life. Like a magnet, or more likely, a compulsion.

But now you were brought right back to the morning after. Seeing the entire city grieving the day after you’d lost your family, your first thought had been ‘Good, I’m not the only one,’ and then you’d stopped being an idiot and realised the city was mourning Jason Todd, heir to the Wayne name. Sure, there’d been hundreds of others who’d died, but that was Gotham. Your family had gotten a plaque filled with tens of other forgotten names, Jason had gotten framed photos hung around the city.

Today, his photo was once again surrounded by thousands of bouquets. Peonies, roses, daffodils, lillies, a rainbow of petals that almost covered his memorial stone. It reminded you of your sad-ass cupcake. When the camera zoomed out, you could see your smaller set of poseys against one of the thirty towering monuments, the tiny names crammed into the rock. Your families name was on line fifty-two, near the bottom. You could only afford the flowers once a year, but you visited once a week at least.

There were other flowers. Other offerings. Other candles. Jason’s dwarfed them all.

You sometimes couldn’t tell if you hated the dead man or were hopelessly in love with him. Obviously it didn’t matter. Even when he was alive he was out of both your league and your tax bracket.

Still, you were absolutely certain of it, Jason Todd would beat up George Lancaster. So fucking bad. To a bloody pulp. He’d be eager to do it, as well. You could hum and haw about how you thought violence was bad but he’d see right to the core of you.

The part of you that wanted George Lancaster to suffer. And he’d do it with a kiss and a promise that he’d make it slow. He’d save you from all your monsters, and he’d do it eagerly. And that was the fantasy of it all, wasn’t it?

You lift your glass, in celebration of your dead parasocial imaginary boyfriend. You hoped he wouldn’t be jealous of your new living parasocial imaginary boyfriends. Hiccuping out a laugh, you swallow down another gulp.

And even then, of course you wanted Bruce Wayne as a father. As someone who has seen the worst of the world, and would protect you from it. As someone who would wipe away the tears, who would save you from your own self. And you wanted Cassandra as a sister, someone to groan over guys with and steal clothes off. You wanted the close relationships they shared with Barbara Gordon and Stephanie Brown, with Duke who’d only recently come into their fold. You even wanted their dog you’d seen in photos, the cat that Damian posted on his instagram, the fucking cow they kept for god knows reason inside the estate. You wanted everything, every part of their lives. You were a jealous person, but more than that, you were a greedy person.

You glance at the clock.

11:57.

You shakily open the candle packet, picking a green one out. That had been Sam’s last favourite colour, but he switched them so often it was hard to remember. You stab it into the pink frosting. Julie always chose pink for her cake. Chasey loved flowers, particularly poseys. The flowers had looked like posesys before they’d been crushed.

You light the candle. It’s tiny flame flickers in the dark room, the warm light overpowered by the cool from the television. You peek back over to the clock.

11:58.

And Mum always made her wish at midnight, because she believed that was when it was most likely to come true.

What would you wish for? You never did, because you never knew what you wanted to wish for. Everything you wanted, everything you could’ve wanted, was gone. It couldn’t come back, it was impossible.

11:59.

You look at the TV, at the blinding forms of the Wayne family. Of their graveyard, with the manor in the background. It’s as impossible as everything else. But that’s what they represent for you, isn’t it?

Something hopeful. Something impossible.

You wanted impossible.

12:00.

You lean over the messy cupcake, and blow the candle out. It disappears in one blow, and you sink back into the couch. You take a few crumbs from the cupcake and sneak them past your lips. In your drunkenness, you probably get more on the couch than in your mouth.

You let your eyes flutter shut, and because only you can, you give yourself the comfort of lies. You imagine loving embraces, whispered platitudes. You imagine that today was a good day, that you’d find yourself tomorrow happy. That you wouldn’t wake up with a hangover, that you wouldn’t have a shitty job, an evil ex, and mountains of debt.

That you’d have people who loved you, who could ease the pain.

And you don’t even care who they are.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[clown420cunt]

Molly - Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summery: After the gang try out some of Eddie’s new inventory, the afternoon turn into something more then just excited chatting and familiar company.

Warnings: drug use! Please do not read this if the topic is triggering.

Tags: Eddie x fem!reader, one time use of y/n, plus size coded reader, drug use (weed and molly, Be responsible!), friends to lovers, nicknames, aphrodisiac, smut, oral!female receiving, fingering, overstimulation, squirting, p in v sex(wrap it before you tap it), cream pie, reader is kinda a pillow princess.

Masterlist

Not beta read.

Word count: 3,8k

Minors!DNI

———————————————————————

See, taking Molly with your close friends seamed like a fun idea until robin was freaking out about drinking the tall glass of water in front of her.

“But what if we die and no one ever finds our bodies!” Her ramblings not stopping even when Steve and Eddie try to tell her that that it isn’t gonna happen.

(Y/n) steps into the kitchen going to the fridge and pulled out 4 bottles of water.

“Robin you don’t have to worry, just drink a shit ton of water and you’ll be fine” she puts a bottle in front of everyone.

“I’ve done this before, is gonna be fun!”

She takes her spiked glass of water and downs it.

“30 minutes and we’ll be flying”

She grabs her bottle if water and moves towards the living room before turning around and saying “I also got gum so we don’t chew our cheeks”.

Robin locked eyes with Steve before the both of them decide that this was it and downed their own glasses as well.

Following behind her into the adjacent room.

—————————————————————

And here he is, one moment Eddie was sitting and staring at robin and Steve, trying to decipher the words coming out of their mouths.

One continuous speech of words exchanged from one to the other, seemingly with no start or end to it.

Just two people in their own bubble.

And the next moment a soft weight was sat in his lap taking up his full attention.

“Eddie I love you so much! You’re so fun to be around and you’re so passionate about things you like and I think it’s so cute!” A new mountain of words are taking up his ears and it takes a second for him to register the meaning for the words coming from the girl just sat in his lap.

A dope smile settles on his face, dilated eyes shift to her face to stair into another pair of just as round pupils.

“Really?” The girl nods her head fast up and down not breaking eye contact.

“Really, really” she grabs his face between the palms of her hands, fingers speed around his jaw and ears. The organ slotting perfectly In between her pointer and middle finger.

“Your face so soft and warm” she squeezes his cheeks lightly before moving her palms in tiny circles, catching on the new hair growth starting to emerge from his last shave.

A smile mimicking his own starting to take place on her face as well.

His smile seemed to get bigger with her answer. Eyes closeting for a second to take in the new sensation on his skin. Warm soft palms and delicate fingers teasing into his hair, temping to scratch at his scalp.

She releases his head to grab one of his hands.

sliding her hand into his bigger ones, slotting her fingers beside his.

He’s soft palm resting with hers in her lap.

He opens his eyes again to look at the connection. Inspecting the size difference and the way her hand fits perfectly in his hold.

His other hand lifts from where it was placed on the armrest to place it self on her waist.

“Your hands are so small” the words seem to spill out of his mouth before they popped into his mind.

She turns her gaze from his face to their connected hands.

“Oh my god! They’re tiny!” She shifted in her seat in his lap, turning her knees closer to Eddies waist and twisting her upper body at an uncomfortable angle.

She stands up, his hand falling back onto the armrest of the couch he was sitting on.

“Can I sit here like this” she moves her hands in a straight line from her sides to his.

Eddie just nods “yeah sure” not really understanding the arm movements.

She sets one leg and plush thigh on either side of Eddie, resorting in him having to move a bit away from the armrest to make room.

Eddie places his hand on the meat of her thighs, the squishy supple flesh laying against his palms now.

A involuntary squeeze and he can’t seem to stop him self from roaming the uncharted sea of long sensual touching.

Finally settling she rest her arms on he’s biceps.

His muscles twitching as she runs them down the sleeve of his t-shirt and up into it.

Sending electricity up into his brain and down to his fingertips.

“You’re so warm” she gives him a squeeze. “I am?” Eyes shifting to where her hand is placed on his left arm.

“Yes! Is really nice” a breathy tone entering her voice, her forehead falling to his shoulder.

He moves his hands up and down her thighs taking in the feeling of her denim pants running along his ruff skin.

She site straight up again, removing her hands from under his sleeves to retract them into her own T-shirt sleeves and onto her back.

Fumbling around with something Eddie is not totally sure about.

She finds what she’s looking for and a sigh escapes her lips.

“That is so much better” she scrambles with trying to slide something down her arms and pushes it out the bottom of her shirt discarding the burgundy bra on the side and sliding onto the floor.

Moving her hands out of the sleeves again and back up to remove the tension from her shoulders, touching the now free mounds from on top of the shirt.

“That thing was killing me” gently squeezing and moving the imprisoned flesh, the subtle movement that resembled the ocean waves making his stare in a trance like state.

“Do you want to touch they’re so soft” she’s looking at him with these big doll like eyes, glassy and blown out, the black of her pupil nearly covering her natural eye colour.

Eddies hands are moving, her hands guiding his up and onto the softest sensation he’s ever touched.

His movement was instant, squeezing the soft flesh, holding the two softest pillows he’s ever had his hands upon.

The weight heavy but welcome.

Eddie leans forward, his forehead touching her collarbone.

“This is the softest thing I’ve ever…” his voice is mumbled against her but she hears him all the same.

Her hands are placed in his hair touching and running her finders though the curly brown locks.

Then going to the top of his scalp and pressing her fingertips into his flesh.

A new sensation washing over him, a tinkle runing along his spine.

She pushes him closer to her, his face being planted down into her chest.

The soft globes engulfing Eddie in the safe cocoon of her scent.

She’s placing a kiss on top of his head and he shifts his gaze up again, starting into her calm, blown out orbs.

She continues to kiss his face, down his forehead onto his cheeks and onto the tip of his nose.

The pillowy kisses for her lips are a welcoming feeling and Eddie doesn’t have to think before he’s leaning in to catch her lips with his when she stoped to look at him.

“Is this okay?” She breaks the kiss before they can get lost in the sensations of each other.

He places his nose against her cheek, running it down her face to place kisses against her jawline.

“More than okay” he mumbles along his journey along her jawbone.

A hand is placed on his face again, her right hand guiding his lips back to hers, breathing in the tenderness of scents, bumping of noses and locking of plump lips.

He opens his mouth just enough for his toung to run along her soft lower lip.

Theres a quick reaction from her when one of his hands runs from a breast to her ass.

A squeeze making her part her lips so he can explore the inside of her soft round cheeks.

She lifts her arms setting them on the back of his back and in his hair, gripping into the full strands on his head.

A finger runs along her nippel and goosebumps break out over her stomach and back making their way down her arms and legs.

A soft moan is pulled when she breaks the kiss, three pecks are planted up his face which is descending down to her neck looking for where she’s most sensitive.

A breathy voice rings in his ears “You wanna go find the guest room?”

His mind creeps back in to register what’s being asked of him.

The kiss breaks, his tongue running up the tendon of her neck up to her ear.

His eyes locking onto robin and Steve still in deep conversation, totally oblivious to theory two friends on the couch right in front of them.

His own blissed out voice comes to he’s ears when he speaks out again her ear.

“Show the way, sweetheart”

She gets up from his lap and stretches her hand out to him.

Placing his hand in hers and rising from the couch, doesn’t disturb the other two idiots.

A soft voice sounding like sweet music in his ears flow into the open room.

“We’ll be right back” no movement or acknowledgement come from their two sitting on the couch in front of them.

With nothing else in the way they move hand in hand out of the living room and upstairs to the guest bedroom set up for tonight.

———————————————————————

It’s hard to walk with him stuck to her side like a koala.

Big hands grappling and touching all along her upper body, up to her neck and back down to her ass.

A handful of cheek in his hand.

Slightly chapped but soft lips sucking a bruise below her ear when they end up against the door.

Trying to get the doorknob to work with the movement and the denial of eyesight.

There’s a click and the solid form behind them moves, kiss broken to make room for not falling on the floor, they make their way in and closes the door on they way.

The first think to go is her shirt, the old worn fabric of a T-shirt is discarded onto the floor.

Hands making contact with flush skin and a sigh making its way out catching ear drums and bouncing off the walls.

Eddies hands make their way up the exposed skin.

Grabbing, squeezing, touching and running up the path of her stomach and waist.

One hand settling on her chest while the other runs up her shoulder blade and holds her closer.

Lips smashing against hers before making their way down to her neck again.

Licking, kissing and biting down and into where her shoulder and neck meet.

Soft breaths and small moans escaping her mouth, as she grasp his waist and arm when her legs turn to jelly.

Her hands run down the expanse of his chest to settle at the bottom of his shirt.

Slightly the fabric upwards to discard the offending garment.

Eddie disconnects from her throat, shirt tuning over his head.

Eyes setting on the small and bigger bruising forming onto the sensitive flesh.

She pulled him into a headed kiss again, he’s quick to take charge.

Moving tongues and lips in synchronised motion.

Hands creep down from necks and supply open buttons and sippers.

Pushing denim down the expanse to plush thighs and round shapes, settling against hardwood floors.

Another pair of pants quickly follow, a sound of metal on hardwood joins the wet sounds of lips fighting and tongues meeting.

Pressing his body against hers is a feeling Eddie never wants to end.

Warm, soft flesh slotting against his tall frame.

Hands gripping thighs and running along chest hair and sensitive nipple piercings.

The kiss breaks and eyes shift down to his chest, a thumb running over the jewellery and making him shutter, sucking in short breaths and kissing his teeth in the process.

Eyes running along the expanse of his chest, down to his bellybutton and following the trail of hair presenting a tent of blue checkered fabric.

Top of her tongue peeking out from her lips, wetting them in the process.

Finger tips edging to run along the edge of his boxers.

His hand catching her wrist before she can do anything “not yet”.

Guiding her backwards until the back of her knees touch the bed and she’s placed on to the light green comforter.

Eddies fingertips brushes over her sides and ghost over the sensitive skin of her lower stomach.

Fingers hooking in the elastic of the comfortable cotton panties

He tucks down, guiding her to lift her hips off of the madras so he can get the fabric over the curve of her ass.

Plush flesh flexing when the muscles in her thighs and butt move into action.

The soft pull of fabric is moved from her ankle and suffering the same fade of all the other items on the floor.

“Slide back would you, sweetheart?” His soft candied voice can de heard making her brain fuzzy.

Her body moving before she can really register what could be happening.

He climbeds after her settling between her legs, hands running up over her skin and gripping her chest.

Skin soft and plush slipping between his fingers and creating small curves I the spaces.

A hot breath and wet tongue catching her attention, a sensation that makes her brain turn off and a moan makes a way past her lips.

“God you are so beautiful, I could get lost in you forever” the hot muscle comes in contact with the pebbled knob again this time lips follow, sucking onto the pink flesh.

She wiggles when his teeth grace the sensitive circle.

Nipping at it before moving to the other one to give it the same attention.

Course fingers make a move south and settle in the soft curls on her mound.

Fingers dipping down to run along the opening of her plush lips, before dipping into her feeling the slick hiding between her thighs.

“Is all this for me?” He breathed against her breast, a lick following the question.

A squeak and a shuttering breath follow.

Fingers dipping deeper and running up to touch her clit, curling it a couple of times and pulling away.

He shift, moving off of her and a whine follows.

“Shh, baby” he goes back to kiss her, one hand holding him up the other falling to her thigh and lifting it up to her stomach, before breaking contact with her lips and moving his whole body lower.

“I’m not going anywhere” his other hand is placed on her ass and slither up her other thigh placing it in the same position as the other and spreading her open for him to see.

He locked eyes with her glistening hole, small needy twitches catch his eye and makes it impossible to look away.

“So wet, sweetheart” he licks his lips.

“What did I do to deserve such a good girl” another pucker catches his eye and a whimper follows.

Without breaking eye contact with her weeping hole he descents.

Licking a strip up her lips before settling onto her most needy pebble.

First licking and then sucking over the sensitive button.

A moan spurs him on twirling his wet muscle over her again and again.

Moving a hand down her thigh and teasing at her entrance.

Going circles around before inserting one finger and then two.

A broken breath and a loud moan can be heard after.

A hand snaking into his hair gripping tight to the scalp making him groan and trust into the comforter creating friction against his underwear.

Fingers moving in a ‘come here’ motion starts the tinkly sensation.

Hips riding up and grinding on his face following his fingers and tongues moments.

Holding her down makes her whine out loud, a squeaky sound in the hot room.

His teeth catch on her clit and sends a jolt of pleasure through her.

A guttural moan following.

Her walls spasming around his digits when he does it again, fingers catching the soft spongy spot inside.

“I’m gonna cum” three sweet words fall from her lips followed by another moan.

He keeps his fingers pace and continues to nibble at her clit, small electric shocks building into pressure in her gut directly connected to her sweet release.

Eddie continues the motion, her body locking up and walls squeezing his fingers so tight.

No air enters her lungs as a second release comes with a push of her walls liquid release as the over stimulation turns into another orgasm.

Making her squirt as he lick her clit.

Broken sounds escape har agape lips, cut off screams and moans having no way to form with the lack of air entering her system.

Her legs are shaking when he removes himself from her.

Legs falling to her sides as she tries to catch her breath.

Eddie moves up to kiss her, rock hard member catching on the crook of where her thigh meets her torso and a groan falls from his lips.

“You did so good for me sweetheart, squirting all over my face. Such a dirty girl”

Her brain like mush struggling to comprehend the words falling from his lips.

He kisses her again lips opening so she can taste herself in his kiss. Wet chin and mouth transferring her juices onto her face in the process.

“Want you Eddie, want you so bad” she breaths in between connected lips.

He growls into the kiss as he runts into her stomach.

Breaking the kiss, he mover to discard his last layer.

His dick springing free from its confines and standing tall against his stomach.

Pre-cum pebbling and catching the light in the room making the head shiny and inviting.

His hand moves to grab his throbbing member.

Giving it a few pumps before moving to climb on top of her again.

Grinding against her wet entrance, catching her clit with his head and the sweet sensation of lightning running up her spine doesn’t prepare her for the delicious stretch from his cock.

A gasp and wide eyed expression makes Eddies attention run from the image of his dick disappearing in between her soaking walls and up to her blissed out face.

Pulling back out that thrusting in again he keeps his eyes on her beautiful face.

High from a combination of drugs and two orgasms clearly giving her an out of body experience when Eddie once again thrust into her.

Hearing her breath hitch and eyes flutter from every touch.

Picking up speed, the sound bodies slapping together would be able to be heard through the wooden door if you passed by.

Broken moans, groans and screams sprinkled in.

Thighs back against her stomach, body folded in half, hands on thighs and behind knees is the position the pressure builds again.

Ruff thrusts sending the frame of the bed against the wall creating a steady rhythm of thumbs.

Her eyes roll into the back of her head body and mind only focusing to the man on top of her.

Fucked stupid, no thoughts running through her head, not even able to form any.

Breath hitching every time his dick hits her sweet spot sending tremors through her body.

Eddies mind is only on her, eyes following her every move, ears only hearing the sounds she gives up.

High pitch whines and small short screams fall from her lips, her legs start to tremble and shake and he releases one of her legs to move the pad of his thumb over her aroused clit.

The tight but soft circular motion sends her over the edge.

Loud whiny screams tumble through her lips as her trembling core tighten and try to push him out of her.

The sensation nearly sends Eddie over the edge, making him stop short in his thrusts.

He doesn’t want this to be over yet.

The all consuming sensation of her everything making him strive for more in his elevated state of body and mind.

She stretches her legs out, the tinkling sensation of blood flowing back into the limbs.

The new position makes Eddie lean over her and place her arms around his sweaty neck.

“Hold tight” and without pulling out he sits her up into his lap adjusting her in to a comfortable position.

Shallow thrust start up again, her legs folded behind his back and arms holding onto him for dear life.

She rocks with him using her thigh muscles to guide and grind herself down on his dick.

“You feel so good, suck a good girl riding me” Eddie holds her tight.

“Gonna let me come is this position sweetheart? Gonna let me cover these walls with my cum. Hmm?”

A moan falls from his lips when her walls clamp down at the words, body reacting to the filthy words coming from his mouth.

The sounds she’s making and the flutter of her used hole is a tell tail sign and he can’t stop him self this time.

Thick white cum fills her up, while Eddie continues to thrust through his orgasm, sending her over the edge.

Biting down into Eddies shoulder makes him moan out loud at the sting feeling.

Muffling the sound of her screams while they ride out the last blissful moments.

The only sound in the room is heavy breathing.

She can feel his cum leaking out of her and down the curve of her ass, his softening member no longer making sure it stays put.

“You okay?” He asked after getting enough air and blood back into his brain.

“Y.. yeah” her voice breaks with the word.

“I’m gonna lay you down on the bed, okay?”

“Okay..”

He leans forward, having her upper body fall onto the bed and moving his feet from under her ass.

Admiring the way har beasts move up and down with each breath she takes.

Eddie gets up from the bed stumbling in the process.

Leg muscles screaming out for him to sit back down but continues to carry him as he moves to put on his underwear and a shirt.

Glancing over he watches her for a second to make sure she’s okay before moving to the door to go get them both at big glass of water.

Walking by the living room he can still see Robin and Steve talking but they’ve changed position now both laying upside down on the sofa heads not visible because of the table in front.

Eddie completes his mission of water and returns to her lying on her side.

She’s facing the door waiting for him half asleep.

He makes her drink the whole glass before helping her into her T-shirt and panties for a visit to the toilet making sure she can take care of herself.

The room is hot and smells of sex, he opens a window to let some fresh air in and grab his pre rolled joints for at slow descending calm down.

Returning to the living room with her and stepping into the backyard.

“You know.. I love you too”

———————————————————————

I hope you enjoyed my first ever attempt at writing smut 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 this is kind of anxiety provoking ngl, so please be kind to me 😖

Let me know what you think!

I will also be posting this to AO3!

———————————————————————

Taglist: @paleidiot

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 29 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: It was your wedding day, and Bradley realized he was getting everything he wanted... not just a perfect wife, but a perfect family of three. After exchanging vows and promises, you and Everett take him home, because there's something important you want to ask him. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Length: 3900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

"I can't believe you're getting married tomorrow," Molly said from the spot where she was lounging in the middle of your bed eating tortilla chips dipped in marshmallow fluff. "I remember when you married Danny. God, you looked fucking miserable that day."

"I was miserable that day. Young and stupid, too. Thanks for reminding me." You tried to take the bag of chips away as you said, "I hate crumbs in my bed. Can't you at least sit on the floor or something?"

She whined and reached for the bag. "It's not for me! It's for the baby. Now be a nice auntie and let me have my little snack."

You weren't sure of all the details of what had gone down. All you knew was Molly and Bob were still together, and she was keeping the baby. Apparently there had been some pleading on his end. Molly said he begged her not to leave him, and then he promptly told her about a million times how much the idea of having a child with her thrilled him. And slowly but surely, over the past few weeks, she seemed to become attached to the idea of being a mom.

"Fine," you sighed, handing her the chips. "Have your snack. But just remember, I'm not doing it for you."

"The baby thanks you," she said, rubbing her tiny bump as she shoved four chips into her mouth. "I wonder what the guys are up to," she said after she was done chewing.

"Watching the Phillies game. Or at least that's what Bradley texted me a few minutes ago."

"Give me your phone! You're not supposed to be talking to him! Bob was supposed to hide Bradley's phone under our bathroom sink. My god, I can't trust him to do anything right," she said with a soft smile on her face. She yanked your phone away and tucked it behind her back. "Now try on your dress one more time. Your tits look so good in it."

"I need you to zip it. Go wash your hands."

She rolled her eyes so hard, it was like she was fifteen years old again, and then she went into your bathroom like she was told. "What's it like living with Bradley?" she asked, moving his stuff around on the counter. "Does he like belch all the time and scratch himself?"

You started laughing as you tried to pull your dress on. "No! He's perfect. It feels like he's always been here. He takes care of almost everything for Ev, and he's actually quite tidy." You skipped over all the parts where you and he had been making love all over the house just because you could, but you did add, "I love having him with us."

Molly turned around and smirked as she came to zip your dress. "If I ever marry Bob, which I might not!" she said, cutting off your excited look. "If I do though, it'll be in the middle of a wildflower meadow just after sunset. And I'll make my own bouquet with the flowers beforehand. Oh, and I'll have to make sure Bob takes his allergy pills. But it'll be so dreamy."

You were gaping at her in the mirror as she zipped the dress. "Really?" you asked, flabbergasted. "That's literally nothing like what I thought you were going to say."

Molly sighed and made her way back to the bag of chips. "It's these fucking hormones. Fuck! I want to get married in the middle of some flowers now! What the hell?" She was wiping at her eyes as she told you, "Pull your dress down a little bit. I'm telling you, Bradley won't even be able to focus on the ceremony with your boobs looking like that."

"The ceremony is only going to be like ten minutes long. If that," you reminded her. But damn, she was right. This dress fit you very well. "Thanks for having an emotional breakdown in the middle of the dress shop and kind of forcing me to buy this dress after I sat on the floor with it on."

She smiled at you as she dipped a chip into the fluff. "That's literally what I'm here for."

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

The following morning, Bradley pulled up to Petco Park with Bob and Everett in the Bronco just as the sun started to warm everything up for the day. He was getting married in an hour and a half. He felt jittery, but he wasn't nervous. He felt warm, but he wasn't uncomfortable. He felt like everything was the way he never knew, until very recently, that he wanted it to be. 

"Ready, kiddo?" he asked Everett as he opened the back door. Everett scrambled into his arms and wrapped him in a hug around the neck.

"Yep!" he replied, and then the three of them were making their way into the Players Only Entrance where a security guard was waiting for them. "This is so cool," Everett whispered. The ballpark was basically deserted since the game didn't start until three o'clock, and they only passed a few other staff members as they entered the Padres locker room.

"Remember that fun tour we went on?" Bradley asked Everett as Bob held the door for them. He kissed his stepson on the cheek before setting him down on one of the benches. 

Everett muttered, "Yeah," as he looked all around the room in awe. "But we went in the visiting team locker room."

Bradley laughed and looked around as well. "We sure did, because we wanted to see all the Phillies gear."

"Can we all go to Philadelphia?" Everett asked.

"Well, Philadelphia made it to the short list of vacation spots when I talked to your mom. We'll work on her. We already got a Phillies room out of her."

Everett was smiling nonstop as the three of them changed into their baseball jerseys in the same room where the Padres players would be putting on their uniforms in a few hours for their game against the Rockies. Bradley checked himself out in the mirror. They all matched, more or less, in their white jerseys with gold stitching and letters. Molly had been in charge of ordering them from a small boutique shop. Everett's said GRAND SLAM on the back. Bob's just said BOB. And Bradley's said GROOM; he was a little surprised his didn't come back saying TURD-IN-LAW to be honest. 

When the security guard poked his head inside and said, "You can go out onto the field now," Bradley's heart started pounding. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he put his Phillies cap on backwards. Then he put Everett's on him backwards and picked him up again. 

"I love you, Ev," he whispered, tears gathering in his eyes. Bradley was in some ways more emotional about becoming Everett's stepdad than he was about marrying you. Because it was like a bonus. A little extra responsibility he never planned for. Falling in love with you was one thing, but this was something else entirely. Every time he looked at his kid, he saw innocent trust returned to him, and all Bradley wanted to do was make him feel safe and loved.

"I love you, Dad," he replied, like it was already the most natural thing in the world. And Bradley supposed it was. Because the two of them seemed to be cut from the same cloth. And Bradley was more than happy to step into the role of a father for this child.

When Bradley turned to Bob, he asked, "You have the rings?"

"In my pocket," he promised, and then the three of them were on their way. They walked quietly through the tunnel and out onto the turf. Everything smelled fresh, like grass and damp earth. Everett's head was on a swivel, looking all around, just like when they took the ballpark tour months ago. 

They were being waved over to home plate by John, their tour guide from that very special day. "It's nice to see you again," he said, shaking hands with Bradley. "I've just been informed that your bride is on her way up from the other locker room."

"Thanks," Bradley muttered, anxious to see you and be with you. He held onto Everett a little tighter as they waited, and he laughed softly. Somehow you managed to pull off this wedding, and the fact that Jake was the one who helped you do it was almost too funny.

"Hi, Mommy!" Everett called, waving his hand as Bradley whirled around to find you walking out onto the infield. A strangled noise escaped him as you made your way closer with a soft smile on your lips. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. It was the only word to describe the day and how he felt and how you looked with Molly holding the bunched up bottom of your wedding dress.

"Kitten," he whispered, feeling short of breath as you joined him on home plate. Your dress was simple but beautiful, and Bradley wasn't ashamed to admit that he couldn't stop glancing at your tits. But it was the smile on your face that had him grinning, too.

When you leaned in to kiss Everett's cheek, Bradley took your chin in his palm and tried to kiss you. "Stop it!" Molly screeched as she finished straightening out your wedding dress. Bradley froze as she added, "You're not supposed to kiss her until John says it's time! Have you never been to a wedding before?"

"I'm so happy I'm gaining not only a wife and son today, but also such a lovely sister-in-law," he told her in response. 

Molly smiled sweetly at him. "You should be delighted."

"Can we get married now?" you asked with a laugh, and Bradley set Everett gently down next to home plate. 

"It's the only reason I'm here," he promised, taking your hands in his. "To marry my beautiful Kitten and live happily ever after."

You smiled at him as he pulled you a little closer. Everett was practically standing between the two of you, so excited for what was to come, and Bob and Molly stood next to John.

"Ready?" When everyone nodded, John said a few words about how he was pleased that he could perform this short ceremony today after being the one who gave them the tour of Petco Park. He told them that they made him smile so many times that day as they interacted with each other. And then he asked if you and Bradley wanted to say anything to each other.

"I'll go first," you said, ducking your head for a beat before you looked Bradley in the eyes. "The first day we met...the first day of tee ball...I took one look at you interacting with Everett, and I thought maybe there was a small chance that it wouldn't have to be just the two of us forever." You let go of Bradley's left hand and smiled at Everett as you ran your fingers along his cheek. "Not that there was anything wrong with the two of us, Ev. You know that, right?"

Everett nodded and told you, "I know."

"We were so close to perfect. But Bradley makes us even better," you said, looking up to meet his eyes again. You studied him for a beat, and Bradley watched your eyes fill with tears. "It's hard to explain how you make me feel so confident, when at the same time, you make me feel like you'll be strong when I can't."

"Kitten," he whispered, wiping your tears as they fell. 

"I love you, Coach," you said with a soft laugh through your watery eyes that had him smiling and shaking his head. "You belong with us."

"I really do," he agreed. 

"Your turn," you whispered, and with a nod, Bradley knelt down in the dirt next to home plate, his jeans getting messy in the process. 

"Hey, kiddo," he whispered to Everett, loud enough that you could still hear him. 

"Hi, Dad," he replied, and Bradley wrapped him up in his arms as he started to cry.

"Thanks for letting me marry your mom," Bradley told him, his voice a little rough as he kissed Everett's forehead. "And thanks for letting me be your dad. I'm going to make some promises to you, okay?"

"Okay," Everett said with a little shrug that made Bradley chuckle. 

He wiped at his tears as he said, "I promise to play baseball with you in the park all the time. At least until your mom gets annoyed. And I promise we'll watch the Phillies together in Philadelphia, because it's the only way to see the Phanatic up close."

"Yes!" Everett said, clapping his hands.

"And I promise to help you with your homework and make you pancakes and collect baseball cards together. And we can do anything else you decide you want to do, okay? Because I love you, kiddo."

Everett hugged him again, and when Bradley stood and looked at you, he was crying in earnest. "Kitten, I love your son just as much as I love you."

"I know it," you whispered, crying as well. 

He took a deep breath and laughed. "Are you ready for your promises, Kitten?" When you nodded he took your hands in his again. "In front of Ev, Molly and Bob, and this immaculate turf at Petco Park, I promise I love you more than baseball."

You started laughing through your tears, and Bradley turned to see Molly wiping her own tears on Bob's jersey. 

"That's a lot of love," you told him, squeezing his hands. 

He nodded, pulling both of your hands so they were around his waist. "I promise I love you more than the Phillies. And I always will." He let his forehead come to rest against yours and said, "And if you'll let me be strong for you sometimes when you need it, then that's an honor, Kitten. Because you're the strongest person I know. But I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere." Your eyes closed as Bradley's lips brushed your forehead and his hands slipped around your waist. "John, I'm ready to kiss my wife."

"By all means," he replied, "go right ahead."

Your hands were around Bradley's neck, nudging his backward cap and pulling him closer, and then he was kissing you while your little cheering section of four people went wild. 

"I love you," he promised against your lips, but you pulled him in for more with a smile. He brushed your nose with his and kissed you one last time. Then Bob was holding out one ring on each palm, and you let Bradley slip yours on before you took his left hand in yours. His ring looked perfect after you slid it into place. And then Everett was reaching for him, and Bradley scooped him up while you hugged your sister and kissed Bob's cheek.

"You're really my dad now," Everett said, letting his head come to rest on Bradley's shoulder. 

Bradley held him close. "I think I already kind of was."

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

The fact that your wedding reception consisted of ballpark food and cheap beer in one of the Padres' suites had you and Bradley smiling nonstop. The two of you had taken wedding photos while the park was still empty, and most of the shots were of the three of you.

"Could I interest you in some nachos, Kitten?" Bradley asked, stealing a chip as he handed you a tray.

"Thanks, Coach," you said, kissing his cheek. "You know, I don't think we give Bob enough credit."

"What do you mean?" he asked, dipping another chip into the cheese and eating it. 

"Well, we only met because he got you to coach the team with him in the first place. And he kind of let you bully me into being the Team Mom."

Bradley shook his head. "That seems like ages, not just just five months. You'd wear your little black skirt to practices and prance across the grass in your high heels. Fuck, you're so sexy." You giggled as he kissed you behind your ear. "And your tits look amazing in your dress."

"You can thank Molly for making me buy this one."

Bradley glanced toward where Molly and Bob were making out in the corner. His hands were all over the barely noticeable swell of her pregnant belly, and she was raking her fingers through his hair. "Nah, Bob's busy thanking her himself at the moment."

As more guests showed up just before the game started, you watched Nat squirt some ketchup onto a hotdog for Everett. And then you watched Bradley hold a napkin up while he ate it, just like he always did. The two of them were so shockingly similar, it was jarring at times when you remembered that Danny was Everett's biological father. 

"Talk about an upgrade," you whispered, taking a sip of beer before you went to greet Maverick. You barely watched the game, too busy chatting with your friends and kissing Bradley nonstop. But the Padres won which made Bradley and Everett happy, so it made you happy, too. 

And then by six o'clock, you had an exhausted seven year old son on your hands. He was crashing from all the snacks and the excitement of the day. "Time to head home," Bradley said, picking Everett up and kissing your lips. "And then we can send Ev off with my delightful sister-in-law."

You looked up at him, confused. "What do you mean? Ev's going to their condo for the night?"

"Two nights. I'm taking you to Palm Springs," he told you with a smirk. "We're having a real honeymoon now, and then I was thinking over winter break, we could take a family trip to Disney World?"

You threw yourself at him, and he collected you in his other arm. "That sounds perfect." You'd never been to Palm Springs or Disney World, but suddenly you wanted to go everywhere with him. 

"You said Philadelphia," Everett whined in Bradley's grasp.

Bradley kissed his forehead. "That'll be in the spring, silly. Gotta go when the Phanatic is active in his natural habitat."

Your heart pounded as you walked out across the parking lot to the Bronco. Because it turned out Molly had been keeping two secrets today: one for Bradley and one for you and Ev. You didn't expect to be this nervous, but here you were, barely able to get your seatbelt buckled around your dress.

Bradley was sweet and gentle, taking the buckle from your shaking hands. "Are you okay, Kitten?" he asked, the dying sunlight turning his eyes a deep amber. 

"Yes. Just can't wait to get home. Ev and I have a special wedding gift for you."

"Well, I can't wait either."

You bit your lip and looked out the window as you muttered, "Hope you like it."

Because Molly was the one driving her car, she and Bob got back to your house first. She was unlocking the front door so Bradley could carry Everett inside while he yawned. "We'll be out on the back deck," Molly said, taking Bob by the hand. "Let us know when Ev is all ready for his sleepover."

Now Bradley was the one who looked confused as they closed the back door behind them, leaving the three of you alone in the living room. "Ev's bag is already packed," Bradley said. "He can go with them anytime." 

"That's true." You felt too hot in your wedding dress now, thinking you might need to take a minute to yourself. But then Everett was climbing out of Bradley's arms and reaching for the box you'd stashed under the couch. 

"Can we give it to him?" he asked, looking up at you for permission with wide, innocent eyes. 

"Yeah," you whispered, running your hand over your chest, trying to calm the pounding of your heart. Your eye caught on the baseball covered in hearts that Bradley had used to propose to you where it sat on your mantle. He belonged here with both of you, and you wanted Everett to have every opportunity to live his best life. "We can give it to him."

Then Everett thrust the wrapped box into Bradley's hands, and you realized you were both staring at him. You reached for your son, pulling him closer to you as Bradley shook the box a little bit. "This is for me?"

"Yes," you and Everett said in unison, but now you felt like you were going to be sick as he started to rip into the silver paper. And then he was opening the box. 

A smile lit Bradley's face as he set the box aside and held up a Phillies jersey, examining the front of it. "I love it," he said, nodding his head. "But it looks a little small for me, doesn't it?" 

You pressed your lips together as you squeezed Everett's shoulder. "Look at the back," you told him, your voice a little shaky. 

Bradley turned it around and read it. "Bradshaw. But it's a child's size." When he met your eyes, you could barely see through your tears, and you even sensed that Everett was anxious now. 

"It's not for you, Coach," you informed him softly. Then you looked down at your son for a beat as you said, "It's for Ev. This is just our way of asking you if you'd like to be Everett's father. If you'd like to adopt him."

You watched Bradley's lips part, but no words came out. He was looking between the two of you in awe as tears seemed to fill his eyes. Then he read the back of the jersey again as he sobbed. "Come here," he whispered, kneeling down in front of Everett and tucking the jersey under his arm. "Is that what you want, kiddo?"

Everett wrapped his arms around Bradley's neck and said, "Yes."

Then Bradley looked up at you with tears in his eyes. "You'd let me?"

"Yes!" you said, now crying as well. "It's what we want."

He buried his face in Everett's neck and squeezed him. "Yes, I want to adopt you, Ev," he managed. As he stood with Everett in his arms, he kissed you and whispered, "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

"We can do it soon," you told him, hugging him a little awkwardly as he held Everett. "I'll have my lawyer change my petition from child support to adoption. We can get new papers served. No more Danny. We don't need the money anyway. Not like we need you, Coach."

Bradley leaned down and kissed you. "First thing when we get back from Palm Springs, Kitten. Let's get this ball rolling. You won't have to worry about custody or Danny anymore. You won't even have to think about it. And I'll get my bonus," he told Everett with a grin. "A son to go along with my wife."

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

Married! Adopting Ev! Happiness! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 30

Don't forget to check out Bob and Molly in The Curveball!

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[whorediaries-09]

imagine eldest daughter!reader not being able to love anyone and flinch whenever someone touches her, and remus being the only person that can touch her and stay with her while she wants to be alone

oh wow. did u really have to...call me out like that?

archer;

pairing- remus lupin x reader warning(s)- hurt/comfort, details of child abuse, touch sensitivity. (let me know if should add more) a/n- i really went ✨self - indulgent ✨ on this one.

ps- the beginning is from the movie 'five feet apart'. it's a really good one, make sure to check it out.

little train

' i've been the archer, i've been the prey.'

touch. the first form of communication. it began with a soft caress of the finger. or the brush of lips on cheeks. it connects one in the times of happiness, bolsters one in the time of fear and excites one in times of passion and love.

to be touched, was to communicate the feeling of security, the feeling of safety and comfort. but to understand the importance of touch, was different, was difficult. to need the touch from the one you loved was as important as the air needed to breathe.

and you understood it's importance, the need when you had none. perhaps it was because you didn't feel the security, the feeling of being safe when you were being touched. even a simple hug or a handshake could set off ringing bells in your head.

it reminded you of the time when your mother would slap down her hands on your back for a small mishap like spilling the juice on the floor. or burn her cigarettes onto your skin, punishing you for wasting the juice and make you clean up.

'you stupid bitch! i don't have enough fucking money for you to spill juice all over the stupid floor!' she'd scream, boxing your ears. she'd pull you by your ears, taking a ladle and letting the wooden handle rain on your back, make you understand the consequences of your mistake.

'please don't cry angel, she'll beat you again,' your father would comfort you, rubbing a cool soothing balm on your burning wounds. you'd cry into the safety of his arms, his callous and rough palms soothing you. his voice was deep and warm, and he'd hold your face close to his chest to let you cry, so your voice was as muffled as possible. the tears would stick on your face and you blacked out, the exhaustion so deeply rooted within your body. you'd fall asleep in his arms.

because the monsters were gone, and your dad was home.

it was difficult to make friends within the community of witches and wizards. where everyone had their own fears but they had mastered the facade of pretend, to hide behind their smiles. and even in this difficult time, when the war was at large, people still found a way to sneak in a ray of hope and happiness into their life.

they appreciated the hugs and kisses. they never knew when they'd lose it. so you watched from a distance as ron weasley was smothered in kisses by molly weasley. and even though he puckered up his face, by his calm stature, you knew he enjoyed it. he liked it and appreciated it.

but oh how you hated it. you hated the fact that you'd have to stand different, reflect within the clouds of happy cheerful faces. perhaps it was you who was in the wrong. you hated the fact that you flinched when somebody tried to touch you. you wanted to feel the same comfort the others felt when they were touched.

'want another drink?' hermione asked, grabbing your attention from the overwhelming scene that played out in front of you. mrs. weasley going around and distributing gifts amongst the children. hermione had been scratching a purring crookshank's ears. your eyes darted down on your lap, where your finger circled around the rim of the empty cup.

'no thanks,' you smiled.

'you must try the eggnog! sirius is the best at making it!' harry said, a proud smile on his face. sirius threw his arm around his shoulders.

'it's fine harry, i'm sure you've never tried other variations of eggnog, if you find mine to be the best,'

'it'll always be the best to me, sirius,' harry said. sirius let out his usual bark like laughter, his gray eyes full of a raw emotion. in harry's eyes, he saw himself to be the father figure he never had.

'you flatter, me harry james potter, you really do.'

'he's not flattering you sirius, you know your way around the kitchen.' remus said, walking through the door. he set down his battered coat onto the chair. with a loud creak, he pulled it out his chair.

you noticed the aging lines around his eyes and lips. his usually pale skin was red. you assumed it was due to the lack of a muffler and the cold gusts of wind that blew outside. he tried to warm himself up by blowing air within the crevice of his palms and rubbing them together. when he noticed you staring at him, he smiled at you.

'merry christmas,' he whispered. his voice was deep and rich, a beautiful vibrato from the depth of his throat. you gulped slowly, watching as the redness from his face slowly faded as he gave you a warm smile. you felt your heart drown in an inexplainable cozy feeling. you smiled back, toasting the air with your empty glass.

'merry christmas,'

*-

the marks on your skin were evident. to be best described, they were like crescent moons staining your skin. the cause, however was not as pretty as the description.

to be wearing full sleeves on a hot summer day was exhausting and itchy, but it was the only solution to hide the burns from the time when your mother had decided to use you as her ashtray. the abuse had been settling upon you. your mother had been growing sicker as each day passed by.

and grief was a weird thing. you wanted to be sad that your mother was sick, and as each day passed, the days of her life were coming to and end. the woman that birthed you, that cared for you- that threw you into an emotional turmoil when your brother was born was dying.

you didn't feel grief, but neither did you feel happy. you were numb, trying to escape the coddling fumes of the tremendous torture you'd been through. to try and be the best role model for your brother.

to try and not keep a corpse in the cradle.

and again, in the realms of your plethora of emotions, you were numb. you didn't feel the pain when you jumped in front of the curse that was thrown at sirius, dodging him away from the soul trapping veil. it was like a white hot curse that burned through your skin and your mother's voice echoed in your brain.

your eyes closed, and while you could still hear your heart beating and the obnoxious screams, you let the darkness succumb you into a madness of sereness. perhaps you'd meet your mother again. perhaps you'll ask her if she ever loved you. perhaps, you'd asked her why she'd have to make you adore her with her hands around your neck.

perhaps you'd ask her the reason she set fire to the rain.

so, when your senses start numbing and you feel yourself falling on the cold hard ground with your head bursting open, you let the blood flow. you don't dream of the warm, calloused hands tending to your wounds and buying you ice cream to allow your mood to lighten. you don't dream about the monsters who were gone when your dad was home. perhaps you'd meet your dad when the world succumbs.

*-

the moonlight filtered through sheer curtains, falling on your face. the sheets underneath you were warm and cozy, pulling you into a beautiful haze of sleep. your eyelids were heavy when you opened them, and you slowly tried to move around, searching for recognition of the place.

you could only recognize the slumped up man sitting within the folds of his jacket. his hands were wrapped around a folded newspaper. his mouth was open slightly, and through the lens of your groggy drowsiness, you could see the lines on his chapped lips, the wrinkles around his eyes. his spectacles dangled off the edge of his nose.

slowly, under the sheets, you wriggled your toes to feel your body. you suddenly felt as if you were on fire. as if somebody had slayed you alive. you were laying down, for once, and not escaping the endless turmoil thrown at your back. for once, you didn't feel discomfort laying down and not doing anything. but it was hot under the sheets.

'sleep well?' remus asked, rubbing his eyes and fixing the angle of his spectacles. it surprised you, and you flinched slightly. he gets up, keeping his jacket on the chair he'd been sleeping on.

the dark circles under his eyes seemed to have deepened. you felt his eyes wander over you. he lower lip was tucked under his teeth, his hands buried in his pockets. he waits patiently for you to answer.

'yes, mr. lupin. where am i?'

'call me remus please. you're at my house. the order's headquarters weren't safe for you anymore. that's because the death eaters are after you. well specifically bellatrix, because you dodged the curse she threw at sirius. for old times sake, she wanted to end it for once and for all.'

you gulp slowly, letting the realization settle into you. you move your fingers slowly under the sheets, testing your capacity to move. you felt bandage clothe rip into your skin.

'you've broken your fingers.' he says moving closer to your form, lying on the bed. 'it's brutal, because your skeletal muscles have been damaged too. do you understand?' he says patiently, gently. you feel a clump in your throat which burns down into your very core. it makes your eyes water.

'y-yes,' you say, your voice wobbly. he stands beside you, letting you fight your tears. he doesn't say anything. and perhaps, you don't want him to.

it's as if, he can't ever leave you. as if he would stay. so, for once, when his gentle, calloused hands touch your body, helping you sit up, you don't find yourself running away from him. you find yourself chased into his warmth, which echoes a gentleness that stills your heart.

because, there's no invisible smoke, or a fire within the crevices of your body. he helps you hold onto him.

********************************

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

*********************************

a/n 2- i know this is a self indulgent statement, but if any of my sirius girlies want me to write something like this with him, please let me know!!

[bearw-me]

Hey there, fellow writer! How are you doing? :)

I just wanted to request a platonic Angel Dust x Nephew (or Niece) reader who is the son/daughter of Molly from when they were alive. Angel hadn’t really got to know them as he had died when they were little, so now that he's reconnected with them in hell, he's trying to bond with his niece/nephew as they are older now.

heyyy! i'm good :) how are y'all?

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 — 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐜𝐬

𐐒 ft : (platonic) angel dust x niece/nephew!reader, fat nuggets 𐐒 cw : fluff, a bit of angst 𐐒 summary : having some family down in hell is exactly what Angel needs 𐐒 note : this is soo cuteee! im loving all these platonic angel hcs!

its a complete mystery as to how you got in contact with him.

maybe you saw his ads or movies, but the first time you messaged him, Angel's heart dropped to his fucking stomach.

I think it would hurt Angel more than anything else to know that you are in this literal 'hell-hole' with him. . .

but it feels nice to know that he has family.

Upon first meeting with you, now that you're no longer that messy little kid he remembers. . . Angel gets a little nervous to meet with you. He just doesn't want you to see him like the screw up he feels he is.

Would like you to call him Anthony, as you calling him Angel feels weird to him.

Angel hardly knew you on Earth, so its fun to hang out with you and get to know all the things he's missed out on.

Cries when you call him 'Uncle'.

Like ugly cries

And goddammit if he doesn't treat you like you're his own child

Spoils you rotten

Always buying you little stuff and checking up on you, even trying to cook and make sure you've been eating.

He really wants to make up on lost time. . . but sort of doesn't know where to start

Angel is never self-conscious about his work. IF he brings it up, its the only time he's a little hesitant to admit that he's an adult film star

If you looked like Molly, I think he'd tear up and need to hug you for a moment.

A long moment.

Angel is still a 'free-spirit' overall, but he always softens up and slips into a more mature nature when you're around.

Has pictures of/with you in his hotel room. They are really nice to look at when he's done work or has a hard day in general. It reminds him he has a reason to keep going sometimes.

Protective uncle all the way. He likes when you ask him things or need something from him. It feels good to be depended on by someone he cherishes.

Wouldn't it be nice if Angel tried to make up for all the birthday's he missed.

Like you'd end up with a stack of birthday cards to read, and one slice of cake with a candle in it to blow out.

Present's range from little bears he missed out on when you were a kid to things he'd think you'd like now.

Fat Nuggets LOVES you. He gets excited when he realizes how similar you look to your uncle.

The little hell pig loves to scratch his back against your leg. Oinking at you as a dog would.

[its-time-to-write]

Hi! Could You write a Jamie x Kent!reader? Like roy finds out when phoebe recognizes Jamie in a cute way,and he loses his mind on reader and Jamie,but phoebe saves the day? Thanks and best wishes✨

Got it! Here ya go! Thank you for requesting 💙

take your time while you’re mine

Roy is your brother. Molly is your sister. Phoebe is your niece. You’re a Kent, and (in your opinion) you’re the worst one. Roy’s all about football and coaching and being grumpy, Molly is a badass doctor/mom, and Phoebe is, well, Phoebe. She’s way cooler than any of you, and she’s only eight. 

You feel like you’ve been clawing and scratching your way to the top ever since you were younger, trailing after Roy and Molly.

You forged your own path, acquiring university degrees like it was your job. You let work consume you, traversing the world in a journey of self-discovery until Molly called you one day, with the news that Phoebe’s dad was gone for good. She didn’t ask, but you answered anyway. You dropped everything and flew back to London.

You’ve been around ever since, changing diapers, taking Phoebe to school, going to Roy’s football matches. You’d settled into your own skin a little more, and although it wasn’t a path you chose, it was a path you loved.

Your favorite was hanging around after matches, waiting for Roy to drive you home. You got to talk to his teammates and joke around with them about Roy’s gruff demeanor. There was only one you didn’t like. Jamie Tartt.

You’d have to agree with Roy’s assessment of this one, although Molly banned all talk of Jamie in the house. All it would take is for one of you to start and then you and Roy would just go at it, about how he was a little prick and far too self-righteous and how his stupid, awful hair was nothing compared to his stupid, awful face.

You were glad when he was kicked off the team.

You were upset when he came back.

But, he started hanging around.

His hair was less stupid and his face was less prick-ish, especially when he was cracking dumb jokes to make you laugh.

He’d talk to you while you waited for Roy, then slip away as soon as he appeared.

Jamie-talk was less banned around the house now, but you still didn’t engage. Roy didn’t notice but Molly did, because she cornered you on one of her rare days off to ask you about it.

“You like Jamie,” she states, as you were elbow-deep in dishes.

You look at her, alarmed. “What? No, I don’t. He’s a prick.”

Molly raises an eyebrow (a family trait Phoebe has not yet mastered). “Then why don’t you talk about him?”

You shrug as best you can without flinging soap. “Like I said, he’s a prick. And you were the one who said we couldn’t talk about him.”

Molly returns your shrug. “That was because you both were feeding off each other’s nasty energy. Didn’t want it around Phoebe. But Roy obviously doesn’t hate him anymore, and you’re clearly head-over-heels for him.”

The plate you’re scrubbing slips from your grasp, splashing both you and Molly.

“What makes you say that?” you ask, as casually as possible.

Molly laughs. “Not sure if you’ve forgotten, but I am your older sister. I know more about you than you know about yourself.”

“Fine,” you say, dropping a fork back into the water. “He asked me out two days ago and I said yes because I do like him, but I don’t want Roy finding out, so you’d better not tell him!”

Molly grins. “Fuckin’ knew it. My lips are sealed.” 

—

You’re successfully sneaking around Roy for one month, when the shoe drops. You and Jamie had been taking Phoebe out about once a week when you were positive Roy was either out of town or “getting his old-man rest,” as you like to call it. Seriously, that man could sleep an entire weekend away. 

This time, he and Molly have something at Phoebe’s school. She insisted he come because, quote, “I’m not braving those crazy mums by myself, and you’re scary enough to keep them away.”

Roy says yes, obviously, because he’d do anything for Molly. You would too, which is why you, Phoebe, and Jamie are strolling around Richmond, and why she and Jamie are trying to convince you of their need for ice cream sandwiches. 

“Pheebs, we literally just had ice cream cones. Why do you need an ice cream sandwich?”

“Because it’s lunch time.” The duh in her voice is heavily implied. 

“And, babe, you have sandwiches at lunch,” Jamie adds. 

“It’s a totally different food group,” Phoebe agrees. 

You roll your eyes. “Babes, Moll will absolutely kill me if I let you. No way.”

You’re saved from their rebuttal by a voice saying, “What the fuck is Tartt doing here?”

The three of you jump, startled, and you and Jamie unclasp hands. You turn to see a frowning Roy. 

“Roy!” you say, unconvincing smile on your face, “I thought you were at Phoebe’s school. Where’s Molls?”

Roy’s glare never leaves Jamie’s face. “We left early. Now answer the fucking question.”

 You can see Phoebe starting her mental tab of Roy’s swear words. Of all the times not to have her notebook handy. 

She knows neither you nor Jamie are going to be able to come up with a coherent response so she says, “Uncle Jamie picked us up to get ice cream.”

This registers with Roy, possibly a little too well, because he steps closer to Jamie and growls, “Hang on. Why the fuck does she call you ‘Uncle Jamie?’”

Jamie shrugs, grateful for any moment he’s still breathing. “Dunno. For me lovable personality?”

“No,” says Phoebe, “it’s because you’re dating my aunt so that makes you my uncle!”

Roy turns on Jamie. “You’re fucking what?”

Jamie holds up his hands. “In my defense, I wanted to tell ya. She thought you’d be mad.” He points at you.

“Was I wrong?” you ask, arms crossed, “Or is this another thing you’re going to be overprotective about?”

You can see Roy’s self-control working overtime as he tries to figure out a response that is going to a) not make you mad b) irritate Jamie and c) be appropriate for Phoebe’s ears. He finally settles on a strained, “Great,” and you smile.

“I love Uncle Jamie,” Phoebe says, fully aware of everything Roy is thinking. “He buys me ice cream and makes us laugh.”

Roy gives you a look that says, we’re fucking talking about this later and you pretend not to see it. You feel for Jamie. You have a feeling that 4am practices are about to get a lot more hellish. 

At least you won’t be alone for Roy’s interrogation. You know he’s going to lose his fucking mind when he hears Molly knew this whole time. 

You don’t worry about it yet, though. Right now you just listen to Jamie and Phoebe swear to Roy they haven’t had the chance to get their ice creams yet, and maybe he should take them because it’s getting close to lunch time and they’re quite hungry?

[mollyrolls]

MOLLY CONGRATS ON 500 BILLION WHAT THE HECK !!!! so deserved youre so talented!!! i sprinted to ur inbox the second i read u were writing for sakusa…..

could i possibly request sakusa, left for dead, wanted sign, & canyons !!!!!!! waves empty cup in your face LOVE YOU !!!

here in LONESOME TOWN... @jadeoru and @nectardaddy are

✪ tied between a rock and a hard place

tags: sakusa x fem!reader (only gendered terms (darling, etc) but tagged fem just to be safe), enemies to lovers, gunslinger, "left for dead"

warnings: animal death, guns, knives, threats, fear, uhhh something else im sure

an: requests are scary. i hope u guys enjoy i have no idea if this is up to standard or not. also, since jade and dodger requested pretty much the same thing this will be a two parter hopefully out tmrw

wc: 1098

mlist. ✪ event mlist.

You probably should’ve known better. 

Normally, there’s no harm in having a drink with a stranger in town, most of them just passing by for the night until they continue on their way out west. It’s a way to get free drink, and they’re normally harmless.

But, just your luck you suppose, these fools weren’t so harmless.

You’re currently struggling against the restraints, willing the bite of the rope to lessen just a bit to return the circulation that’s quickly fleeing you. 

The attempt is to no avail, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. The sick fucks that took you knew what they were doing. 

You’re stranded out in the middle of the canyon, but in an cave that echoes your cries for help back to you. Ropes tied not only around your wrists and legs, but your torso is taut against the rock behind you. Not to mention the nasty bump on the back of your head that continues to swell from where they took you out. 

You know the coyotes are coming soon. The air stills but the energy begins to rustle as the deep reds of the sun finally dip beyond the horizon. 

As the final moments of light leave you, the struggling returns with an intensity you’ve never known before. Trying anything at this point, you feel around for something you can use.

Right as your fingertips graze a rock you might be able to use as a knife, you hear the scraping of something across the ground.

There’s a small part of you that hopes that someone managed to find you, that coming around the corner would be your savior. A larger part thinks that your captors have come back to finish the job, too greedy to leave the satisfaction to anyone else.

The largest part is the one that comes to pass, as you look up to see dark eyes blinking up at you. There’s a deep growl from the back of the coyotes throat as it sizes you up, waiting to see who makes the first move. 

Trying desperately to remember if you’re supposed to get loud or back away quietly for an aggressive coyote, the animal begins to stalk toward you. 

Taking your chances with the former, you begin to make as much noise as possible. Kicking the lump of your legs against the ground and yelling at it to ‘get on’, the coyote begins to tuck tail. Right as it’s about to turn, it suddenly drops to the floor as you hear a clear gunshot sounding through the night.

Your heart drops to your stomach, thinking surely that your captors have returned. You know it’s a human this time, and there’s no way anyone could have tracked you out here. 

Scrambling again for the stone you found earlier, you fervently begin to scratch at the ropes, praying to all that is holy that you can escape unharmed.

The entry to the cave suddenly gets covered, a large mysterious figure blacking out everything behind him.

You can’t help the gulp you take, finally resigning yourself to the scariest demise you could’ve ever imagined.

The stranger tosses the bottom of his coat back, sliding what you assume to be his pistol back into his holster. He stalks toward you, not too unlike the coyote moments before. His steps are slow, calculated, almost reserved. It sets you on edge.

“Listen stranger, I don’t know what you want from me but I’m beggin’ you to leave me be.”

As you speak, the man’s steps falter. He adjusts to the side, letting a bit of the moonlight pour into the space. With just that amount of light, you’re able to make out the dark mess of curls under his hat, and the broadness of his shoulders becomes more identifiable.

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me.”

Sakusa looks down at you, barely suppressing a smirk.

“I would be nicer with your words darlin’, unless you want me to just leave you here.”

Suddenly, you think the coyote was a much better option. Anything would be better than being in a debt to Sakusa Kiyoomi.

"You can do just that. I've been fine on my own, I don't need any rescuing from the likes of you."

The venom lacing your words rolls off him in waves, looking no more bothered by them than an unpleasant chill in the air.

He hums in consideration, one of his more irritating traits. Trying to take your mind off it, you avert your gaze to continue sawing at the ropes binding your hands.

"That's not going to do anything. You'll just tire yourself out."

He doesn't make any effort to move though, opting to just stand there and watch you with distant humor.

You drop the stone in frustration, unwillingly admitting to yourself he had a point. "Can you leave? I don't want your help, but I don't need your heckling either."

"No. 'Wasn't doing anything better with my time. Situation seems fine to me."

Sakusa emphasizes his point by grounding his heels into the dirt, sturdy in place as he towers over you.

The two of you stay there, eyes locked in bitter anger. Neither of you willing to be the one to look away. 

After what feels like ages of pure torture, he breaks the silence. “Just ask.”

“Ask what?”

He shrugs. “To untie you.”

The position your arms are in has been getting uncomfortable, shoulders twisted in a way they should not have been. Is the pain enough to win out over your humiliation in getting his help?

“Fine. Can you untie me?”

He moves forward without hesitation, walking around you to crouch behind the rock. 

“You have a knife?”

“Why would I have a knife? If I did, don’t you think I would’ve gotten out of here already?”

He stays silent, not buying it.

You hate how well he remembers you.

You have to gesture with both your legs, but you haphazardly kick to your left. “It’s in my saddle bag. Probably in that corner.”

As he walks over, you actively fight the urge to size him up, see how much his stature has changed. It’s futile.

He kicks around in the dark of the cave before finding your bag. He unbuckles the straps, before sliding his hand inside to find it. 

You open your mouth to tell him where it is, but he draws it out before a sound can even pass your lips. 

“Kept it hidden. Attagirl.”

“Don’t call me that, you bastard.”

He only grins to himself as he returns to his spot behind you, finally cutting you free.

to be continued...

taglist! fill out here

@nectardaddy, @aozui, @wyrcan, @jadeoru, @mjustag1rl,

@eggyrocks @bakery-anon, @chaotic-neutral-ig, @angee444, @introvertsince2003,

@Kameyyy, @bakingcuriosity, @Anniewings, @nobodybutnnoorr

[cure-orchid]

So I know the show recently ended, but I ended up binging through TGAMM and loved it! The Ghost Friends are all mood and the Mollie ship is adorable. Then I learned about the Chairman Ollie arc for the scrapped third season and IT WOULD HAVE BEEN SO COOL TO SEE!

I ended up writing down how I would imagine the story arc going down, and I headcanon that several of the planned season 3 eps (minus the ones that would clash with the finale) happened between JVTHM and The End (Ollie knowing about the wraith memory loss and how he says it could have hinted that it already occurred.)

My Chairman Ollie plotline: It starts with what was outlined in the already written scripts, and Ollie keeps spending more and more time in the Ghost World rather than on Earth. He’s becoming a little more forgetful as the episodes pass and has noticeable headaches. Things like his parents having a Root Beer Bar or the plot of the latest Country Pumpkin movie seem to surprise him when he should already know about them.

He’s missed a few dates with Molly and slipping on schoolwork so she takes an episode trying to talk to him at school but he keeps getting pulled away to fix something as the Chairman. The episode would really drive in how his human memories are failing even when he reconnects with his body and there’s a whole musical number on how Molly feels he’s growing distant. She finally catches up to him in the end and he looks partway between normal and being an empty shell(his hair is even losing the swoop!). She asks him out for ice cream but then we get a wham line “Sure, but… who are you?” Molly’s heart literally breaks as she discovers Ollie has lost all memory of her. He excuses himself and leaves Molly crying with Scratch and Libby coming to console her.

Next episode the remaining Ghost Friends are trying to figure out what’s wrong with him when June comes to Molly’s house trying not to panic. Ollie’s shell came home yesterday but not his wraith and he’s still not back. Molly, Libby and Darryl go to the Chen’s while Scratch goes to the Ghost World to see what’s keeping him. He finds Ollie still obsessively trying to engoodify the Ghost World and his orange glow is much more faded. Worse, when Scratch calls him by his name he asks who Ollie is. Libby manages to discover a page in her pop-up book that was stuck to another and reveals wraiths can lose their memories the longer they spend away from their body and without the will to live they cannot fully rejoin the two halves. Scratch arrives and with all they know they make a plan. Molly, Scratch and the Chen’s go to the Ghost World while Darryl and Libby keep an eye on their bodies. They get to Ollie and he doesn’t recognize anyone but Scratch, but has no emotional attachment to him. Big musical number as they all try to help Ollie remember but it doesn’t work. Everyone is devastated and it seems like Ollie might be gone forever.

Molly doesn’t give up, she pulls down his hood and cups his face, (this is where the drawing is) telling Ollie that she loves him and gives him their first kiss. Her yellow sparks course through him and his orange glow regains it’s color… and he regains his memories. When they pull away, Olly says her name and he’s pulled into a group hug as he says everyone’s names. He leaves the robe and hurries back into his body. A few hours later it’s just him, Molly and Scratch when the ghost council arrives. I haven’t come up with what happens to the robe but Ollie does relinquish his title as chairman and Scratch pulls the council away. Now alone, Ollie didn’t get to say it back in the ghost world, but he loves Molly too. They have another kiss and lean their foreheads together afterwards… and then Scratch comes back complaining that they already sucked faces once today already.

Update 5/27: Yep, I’m turning this into a fanfic. I said I wouldn’t but I got the inspiration on how to do it! It’s called ‘Record of an Engoodifier’

Also bonus doodles:

[upsidedownwithsteve]

I would love any fluff from camp! Steve after he starts his new job and how Hawkins and steve are doing after the whole thing!

“You’re gonna do great.”

Steve swallowed, throat tight and he eyed you, unsure. You were in front of him, running soothing hands over his shoulders and chest, catching pieces of invisible lint from his sweater and when you stopped touching him, Steve wrapped his arms around you instead.

“Yeah?” He asked you, his nose against your forehead, his words ghosting over your cheek. Steve sounded nervous, his hands roaming under your shirt, rough callouses from summers spent in the forest scratching nicely against your skin. “You think?”

“I know,” you promised him. You pushed up onto your toes, catching the corner of his lips in a kiss. Your dog, Molly the border terrier, was lounging at your feet. She pawed at Steve’s shoe, whining, knowing he was leaving without her. “And Hopper knows so too. It’s your first day of a new job, babe, it’s okay to be a little nervous.”

Steve grumbled something into your hair as he leaned in a little more, face finding the crook of your neck and you knew his cheeks were pink, hidden and a little shy. His new sweater was your favourite shade of green on him and he’d gotten his glasses fixed for the occasions, the fold wire frames smushed against your throat.

“I’m not… nervous,” Steve lied. “M’just, I don’t know— it’s different kinds, y’know? It’s not camp.”

There was a beat of silence as you waited for Steve to finish. So you took the moment to slide your arms around his neck, fingers combing through his hair, making sure you didn’t mess it up. His rucksack was on the kitchen table, the lunch you’d made him sitting in a Tupperware box next to it.

“It’s just… what if they don’t like me?”

You laughed, soft and unable to help it, because the notion of kids not liking Steve seemed almost hilarious. Steve huffed at your amusement but you dotted kisses over his cheeks and chin until he stopped complaining. “Steven, Steve. They’re going to love you, okay? I promise.”

The boy pulled back, eyes still worried but tugged at the hem of your shirt, teasing, his smile coming back. “Yeah? You promise?”

You nodded, solemn. “I swear.”

[cherry-pop-elf]

Every Perfect Curve

George Weasley x Chubby Reader

You had given birth to your sweet little Freddy a while ago. While finally having a moment to yourself, you can’t help but feel self conscious that you haven’t ’bounced back’ like so many others have. George is there to remind you that you are just stunning. Even if you never ‘bounce back’ as they say

Warnings: 16+, Body Dysphoria, Trans Masc coded but over all discussion of weight gain, flirting, sexual content ((no sex)) nursing, postpartum, After The Deathly Hallows Content, Pregnancy

Writing Coms Open

“This used to fit-!” You sniffled, as you were fighting with your body. Trying so hard to get your pants on. You haven’t worn pants since your second trimester. You wanted to wear pants again, but it doesn’t seem like that will happen. You couldn’t even get them past your thighs. It was so frustrating, how much weight you had gained.

“Jellybean, you just had a baby. You think Mum is built like a string bean like the kids she popped out?” George tried to explain, as he was undoing his suit jacket. So happy to have the work day done with, and finally spend some time with his family. You, little Freddy, and Bill with his own pregnant wife.

Since after the war, Bill figured to return back to Gringotts. Stable job, close to George, well paying, and those goblins actually gave him medically paid vacation leave for every time the week of the full moon was coming. It was perfect. Also, he won’t lie, was nice to have a part time job at WWW. Everything was perfect, besides well….The hormones.

“But she had seven kids! I just had one-!” You sniffled. Luckily, George was a fourth kid of seven. He knows a thing or two about someone with hormones. Especially ones with postpartum. Molly had caught some after Ron, funny enough. He knew not to poke the bear, too much.

Before he could stop you, you were already crying. “I’m so fat-! Look at my chest! Look at my thighs! I’m covered in stretch marks, and I can’t wear clothes right anymore! I’m bigger than a inflatus charm! How can you even stand the sight of me?!” You sobbed, as those hormones were just destroying your head space. He let you scream it out, having long since casted a silencing charm on your shared bedroom. Just letting you scream it out. Better out than in.

“Jellybean-“ He cooed, as he would leave himself in his dress shirt now. He would sneak behind you, and wrapped his arms around your stomach. Happily tracing over your stretch marks, and resting his head on yours. Just looking into the mirror, and seeing you struggle. Wet tears and all. He didn’t see what you saw. He saw someone he loved. Every inch of you was devine. Every stretch mark, roll, and sag. That was you.

“Jeans are uncomfortable anyway.” He tried to joke with you, as he scratched his finger on the rough denim. Going to make a disgusted face at the texture. Despite your tears, you couldn’t stop your smile. Damn him. He always found a way. You hated how he made you smile, as you now over thought. Were you crying for attention now? Were you making a big deal out of nothing? Luckily, your husband was quick to distract you from such scary thoughts.

“Come on. You like my pants anyway.” He added. Given how tall he was, the fabric was able to stretch around you easier. You didn’t even have a chance to argue, before he found a pair of his old pajama pants. You figured not to fight him, and soon sat on the edge of the bed. He pulled the jeans off, and helped you into the old soft fabric. Just pampering you. Kissing those newly soft features, and admiring you. Kissing that belly, that took care of your shared little boy. Admired those thighs, and appreciated those stretch marks from that hard working body.

“Much better?” He asked, as they were able to properly fit. Given the height, there was plenty of fabric over your stomach. Enough to even pull the plaid high enough to not drag on the ground. He even worked on making sure you had some nice warm socks, so you didn’t get chilly. Making sure you were as cared for as you deserved.

“Shut up.” You huffed, but he knew you were just frustrated with your body. He knew what that was like. Losing an ear sure makes life hell. If anyone can relate to hating your own body, it’s him. He would let you be frustrated, as he tried to make sure you were comfortable. Seems your top wouldn’t be next, as you two heard noises from the living room.

“ACK-! FLEUR HELP-!” Bill shouted, followed by the devious giggles of your son. Next were the sweet giggles of the Half Veela, as she was most likely working on saving her partial werewolf groom. The giggles of your son gave you a brief smile, but your eyes were on your body again.

“Hey, look at me-“ George would soon cup your face, so to make sure you stopped looking at yourself. “You have a body of a mother, a parent. All this squish was used to make sure our little boy was born happy and healthy.” He tried to reassure you, with a kiss to your lips. With his face with yours, he reached to his dress shirt. He took it off, and soon slipped it on you. He left it unbuttoned, so your sore breasts didn’t get more irritated. Yet still feel somewhat covered.

“And these-“ He gently touched said breasts, making sure to not irritated your sore nipples. “These are big because someone here eats like a Weasley. Playing with them more than me! That little bugger-“ And you laughed. He got you to laugh, and he was grinning with pride.

Speaking of hungry, a shrill cry was soon from the living room. “He eats like a Weasley alright-“ You sighed, but felt a bit more confident now. He was right. You were big because Freddy needed a lot of nutrients. Your breasts were large because he needed to eat a lot. Your body was built for your son to thrive. Being squishy wasn’t so bad. Right?

The both of you were quick to come to your living room, and soon seen Bill trying his best to distract Freddy from his hungry belly. Tickling him, and making little animal sounds. That seemed to entertain the little ginger, as he cooed. Fleur was even doing the same, as she sat with him. The wolf, and the harpy. Chirps and barks.

“His first words are going to be growls, knock it off-!” George would, playfully, say. That made them look over. Bill was quick to cover his eye, given the other one was blind, as to give you privacy. Despite the fact he had seen you nurse before. You still appreciated the gesture, regardless.

“Oh hush-“ Fleur tsked, before she would hoist herself up. Using the side of the couch for support, as so to make sure you had all the space on the couch to feed your son on. You wanted to tell her she didn’t have to, but she was in that Tri Wizard Tournament for a reason. She knows how to be strong.

“Come here, sweetie-“ You shushed, as Bill handed you your son. Those big eyes of his just glowing, and his chubby little fingers reaching for you. Your eyes, and George’s hair. Such a sweet thing. Seeing those chubby hands made you think about your chubby figure. Much like he will, you’ll out grow yours one day. If not? Well, least you know you’ll use it to make sure your son is taken care of. Because that soft body was soothing his upset stomach already. Just snuggled into your warm breasts.

“When will I get a turn?” George asked, as you smacked his shoulder. “Hey-!” He whined, as you rolled your eyes. You would soon be on the couch, and brought your legs up. Left to rest in your husbands lap, as Bill got you some pillows for your back. Your husband rubbing your feet, as you let Freddy nurse. Gentle with his fluffy ginger hair, and admiring him.

“Oh he is so handsome-“ Fleur cooed, as she watched. She was due any time now, as well. Having her watch you nurse was very useful for her. That also made you feel better. If you didn’t get so chubby, Fleur wouldn’t get to see what would happen with her. To see how much it helps with her soon to be child. Maybe being larger wasn’t as ugly as you thought. There was so much beauty in it. Beauty in using what you had to help others.

“Hungry thing.” Bill snorted, as his wife gently smacked his own arm. “If not for the hair, that appetite says Weasley all over it.” George echoed. You rolled your eyes, as your son kept nursing away. Needing to stuff his belly full. Was ages, but he finally was satisfied. With a cloth over your shoulder, you would gently burp him.

“He’s picking up signlaguge so quickly. Swear he will be better at it than me before he’s even two-!” George scoffed, but those eyes were sparkling. He was proud of his smart baby boy. “And soon French-“ Fleur echoed. “Arabic ain’t that bad-“ Bill tagged in. “And of course Romanian.” You vouched for Charlie. “Smart ass baby.” George snorted, before you kicked his thigh.

This moment was soothing. All just parents, together, with your children. Gentle learning for Fleur, and comfort. George was right. Your body was built for something. It was built to take care of your baby boy, and help Fleur learn how to treat her own baby. Being chubby wasn’t a sin. Just as much as being skinny and muscular had its benefits, so did being soft and squishy.

“There we go-“ You smiled, as he gave his little burp. “Much better, hm?” You smiled, as you would bring him to lay on your chest. Just like that, he was knocked out. Sleeping soundly, on your soft breasts. Listening to your heart beat, and able to take a well deserved nap.

“He got that from Fred. That was the only way we could tell you two apart. Whenever Fred was done feeding, he knocked right out. You? You got more energy, and got so excited you ended up throwing up.” Bill chuckled, as that seemed to comfort George. He missed his Fred, but knowing a part of him was still around made him smile. His hand ever so gentle on his son’s back, as he gently rubbed your own stomach. Admiring your stretch marks.

“This might be soon, but do you think-?” George questioned, as he kept tracing the indents in your skin. Another kid, already? You couldn’t blame him, though. He was a magical identical twin. The idea of growing up an only child sounded horrifying. Bro to mention big families is all he knew. Maybe…..

You looked to your sleeping son, and your own body. A smile crossed your lips, as you soon help George’s hand. “Plenty of nutrients for a round two, huh?” You joked. You were able to joke about your own body, and that cleared any worry George had. The two of you were financially fine, and had plenty of support.

He kissed your lips, before kissing your son’s head. A tiny little smile crossed those chubby little cheeks, and you had to wonder why you ever thought chubby cheeks could be so horrible. Your son had the prettiest cheeks around, and you hoped your next kid could have them all the same. Pretty, chubby, features.

[martinacatlover]

Scratch and Molly in my new artstyle. I'm getting bored of drawing in the same way with the same brushes every time so I love to change styles often

Also I'm drawing a short animation with Scratch (like really short, 15-25 sec in total i think). I'm not sure if I will finish it, but anyway it's an interesting experience for me :)

[coltermorning]

Of Love and Loss Ch. 10 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You come upon your first settlement, the small trading post lending itself to the rugged natures of the people who gather there.

Author’s Notes: Sorry for the delay, needed a break from this one for a hot minute to keep the ideas flowing. Also there is a gunfight in this chapter. Chapter ten of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

~

Of Love and Loss

Ten: Bison Coats and Molly Mules

Word count: 3936

You were dreaming of the wolves. Even in sleep, you could feel your body tense, hear the soft exhale of shuddering fear. It was like being half-awake, buried beneath sleep just enough to hold you under its thumb. Aware but not.

You could feel the edges of a scream coming and subconsciously held it. Your horse, eyes wide. A wolf leapt, and you jerked hard, hard enough to wake the man at your back.

“Hey.” You felt a hand at your shoulder shaking you awake. But it still took a moment to open your eyes, to convince yourself of consciousness.

“Wake up.”

You did so, eyes finding the side of the tent before you. No wolves. No death at the door.

You turned over onto your back, taking in a long breath.

“You good?”

You looked over at Arthur. He was closer than usual, and you were reminded of the night prior when his arms had held you close, tucked against him. You quickly looked away, glad he was at least an arm’s length away now. You didn’t know what you would have said to him if he weren’t.

You nodded to give him some sort of response. Then stretched, trying to rid your brain of its addling dream.

“Same dream as before?”

You met Arthur’s gaze with an empty stare of your own. He seemed to get the message, not pushing you to talk at least. But looking at him made you realize he still had blood on his skin. It had been hard to see in the dim light of night. Or, more likely, you had been too riddled with distraction to notice yesterday. Making up your mind, wanting to be the helpful one for once, you sat up and crawled out of the tent.

You were met with a nearly blinding blanket of snow, the sun rising and warming you. It was a shimmering day, beautiful enough to give you pause. You looked over at Arthur’s mare and felt your contentment stagger, trying not to dwell on the fact that she was alone. With a sigh, you made for her.

Once you had gotten hold of what you needed from Arthur’s saddle bag, giving Boadicea a good scratch and a treat in the mean time, you reentered the tent. Arthur was laid back, stretched out with an arm behind his head, eyes closed.

“Wake up sunshine,” you said, kicking his boots.

“I’m awake,” he grumbled.

You sat cross legged beside him. “Good. Because this’ll sure wake you up if you aren’t already.”

His eyes shot open and he looked to the cloth in your hands, his lack of understanding crossing his face.

“Sit up,” you told him.

He let out a groan to shake off any remaining sleep then did as you asked.

“What’s that?” He nodded his head at the cloth in your hands.

“Hold still.” You brought the damp cloth to his face, meaning to clean the remaining blood off for him. Only he jerked back before you could.

“What’re you doing?”

“Helping,” you said, reaching out again.

He hesitantly let you this time, though he winced when the cloth met his face. Likely from the ice cold water you had used to soak it.

You began wiping the blood away, not meeting his eye as he looked at you suspiciously. You didn’t say a word, knowing he would no matter if you did or not.

“This kindness, it’s…unsettling. Should I be worried?”

You shrugged. But it felt good to be the one doing something for him, not the other way around.

Once you’d cleaned him up, taking the time to get what you could out of his hair and beard, you sat back and looked at him.

“That’s better.”

His eyes snagged in your hair, and you realized why when he said gently, “I’m sorry about your horse.” The horsehair.

You shook your head, looking down, folding the cloth up to have something to do with your hands. It was a strange feeling that ran through you at those words. Almost like the guilt had reached you, but the grief had not. Unbelieving that it had happened at all. As if the loss of your parents was too much, your brain not having the capacity for more.

“Me too,” was all you could muster.

Arthur let out a long breath, the noise saying what you both felt better than any words could. It was a shame what had happened. No animal deserved that.

“Can we get going soon?” you asked, avoidant. Not wanting to dwell on the hair braided into your own.

“Sure.” But he didn’t make a move to get up. Just watched you.

You didn’t know why, and you caught his eye a moment before getting up yourself, a little shaken by it.

When you were on your feet and halfway out of the tent, his voice stopped you.

“Thank you.”

It took you a second to realize why he had said it, the cloth in your hand cold against your fingers as if in reminder. For a fleeting moment, you had thought of last night. Of letting him hold you. You shook the memory away and went on, going about the usual way of packing up, leaving, filing your thoughts away so that they wouldn’t take hold before you could stop them.

~

The first settlement made its appearance that day, squatty and bare. It was midday when you and Arthur rode into town, the sun high and hot enough to melt the snow, making it run off the nearby roofs in an almighty race to the ground.

Town was a stretch for this place. It was ten or twelve buildings, a few trader stalls. Not much else. But it was hope enough that you were headed in the right direction. And what better time to come across a place like this than when you had lost nearly every one of your belongings?

You wrapped your arms tighter around Arthur when a few of the townsfolk eyed you. Suddenly, wolves seemed trivial. It was mankind you needed to fear. Your life had been nearly absent of people up to this point, and now that you were surrounded by them, you felt no different than a wild animal caught surrounded. Unbelonging.

As if Arthur sensed this, he distracted you. “What all you need? I’ll stop and see about another horse if they have one to spare.”

“A coat,” you replied. A bed and a meal couldn’t hurt either, but you didn’t much take to the idea of staying here longer than necessary.

Arthur shot you a look over his shoulder.

“What? You have a big coat.”

“And all the money,” he said, turning forward again with a smirk.

“I’ll pay you back.” Though you weren’t sure how you would.

He sighed long and loud. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Forget I said it then. You asked.”

He chuckled but said no more.

He pulled off next to one of the trader stalls and dismounted. “Stay here.” Arthur met your eye to make his seriousness known, and you were again troubled by the many eyes of the townspeople you could feel following you. You moved up into the saddle and took the reins for good measure.

You watched as Arthur made way to the trader stall and struck up a conversation. The trader looked to be an old man, older than he likely was due to the dirt caking his skin. His croaking voice reached you, but you couldn’t make out a word of it. Arthur seemed to understand him though, as he was soon pointing at a particularly harry skin behind the man’s head, hung up on a makeshift rafter. The trader nodded and spoke again, not unlike a frog in the way he forced his voice out. Then Arthur was turning, making for you.

He reached Boadicea and began digging through his saddle bags. He pulled out a rolled-up wolf pelt, the sight of it surprising you. You hadn’t even thought to skin the wolves, use the pelts to trade. Your father would have berated you for that, calling it wasteful not to.

Arthur rounded his horse and pulled another out of the other saddle bag, then returned to the trader, handing them over. The trader took them without a fuss before pulling down the garment you were just now realizing was a coat. Arthur walked back over with it in hand, tossing it up to you as you moved back out of the saddle to let him up.

“How’s that for a coat?”

Truth be told, it stunk. The bison hair was shaggy and unkempt, the inside of the coat made a little hastily, but you had no doubt it would keep you warm.

When Arthur settled in the saddle and got Boadicea back out in the street, you had already pulled it on. It was roomy, made for a bigger man than you, but you were grateful nonetheless.

“Thank you.”

It was the second time the phrase passed between you. And just like before, it remained unanswered.

Toward the southern edge of town, a man had erected a corral of sorts to pen in livestock. Livestock, not horses, as there were all manner of beast in there. Donkeys and mules and even an ox. There was one draft horse that you could see, but judging by the way he looked older than the dirt showing through the snow-packed ground, you were suddenly interested in owning a mule.

“Wait here,” Arthur said, swinging over the saddle and tossing you the reins.

“Can’t I pick one out?”

He looked ready to argue, but when he turned and met your eye, he stopped. He considered you a moment, either thinking you pitiful enough in your too-big coat or sorry enough from already having lost a horse that he relented with a groan. “Come on then.”

You kicked the mare on closer then dismounted, holding her reins as you looked over the various head of long-eared, soft-eyed mules.

Arthur went over to speak to the man at the gate, and you didn’t follow, deciding which mount looked to be young enough and calm enough for a rider. Most were likely just pack mules, not used to carrying a rider. They were an adaptable breed, but that didn’t mean one wouldn’t buck you off into the dirt if it got the chance.

You were eyeing two in particular, a tall seal brown and a barrel-round gray, when Arthur waved you over.

“Pick one out you like. This feller’s willing to make a deal.” You saw a gleam in Arthur’s eye you didn’t understand but handed him the reins anyway, making for the corral.

You stepped inside and moved over to the two mules you had been eyeing before, all of them in a big bunch, swishing tails and knocking off flies from their long, twitching ears.

The gray was nearer, and you made for him first. It took some maneuvering to get to him, but when you did, the way he turned his ears back and swung his head away from you was enough to prove the last thing on his mind was work. So you let him be and made for the taller brown mule instead.

Upon reaching her, she pushed her nose into your hand, curious. You let her nuzzle you a little before stroking her long face, scratching her ears. She let you, her eyes going half closed. In terms of mounts, you could do worse.

“How about this one?” you called out.

Arthur looked to the corral owner in question. After some back and forth, money exchanged hands. She was yours.

“How’s that, girl? Come on. You’re coming with me.”

You slipped the makeshift reins over her head—what they all wore, little more than rope—and led her out.

Arthur was asking after a saddle when you passed through the gate.

“What do you know, I sell those too,” the man replied.

You had to stifle a laugh when Arthur leaned in close, muttering sarcasm. “What do you know?”

Within the next twenty minutes and after knowing you owed Arthur for how much he had just forked over (or gotten “cheated out of” as he put it), you had a saddled, bridled mule.

It was now time for the true test—riding her out of here.

Arthur mounted his mare and looked down at you with amusement, crossing his arms over the saddle horn.

“Well go on then. Let’s see if you picked a good one.”

You shot him a look then stepped into the stirrup before you could think better of it, before you could think of what falling for the second time would do to you. But to your delight, the mule just stood there, patiently waiting on you. You swung onto her without a fuss. When you put your heels to her, she jerked a little in surprise, then slowed. You tried again, and she moved out. No problem.

Your smile took over your whole face. She had definitely been ridden before.

“I was expecting a little more of a fight,” Arthur said with a tinge of disappointment, his mare falling into step beside you.

Catching the stares of more than a few onlookers, you tensed. “Seems you weren’t the only one.”

While passing a nearby outpost, a man on its back porch called out to you. “Such a pretty lady with such an ugly ass!” A few of his fellow porch dwellers laughed.

You weren’t sure if he meant Arthur or the mule, but neither was good. Neither fared well with Arthur’s temper you had only seen once before. But return it did, in full force.

“You best be quiet, buddy,” Arthur responded, the words laced with malice.

The man guffawed. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll put a bullet in you,” Arthur said simply, cutting you off and moving his horse over so that he was closer to the threat, landing you on the outside.

You didn’t even have time to be afraid before you noticed Arthur’s gun in his hand. You hadn’t even seen him draw it.

The man glared at him, all amusement gone. And the moment sat on that glare—you, praying no one shot for fear of your new mount parting ways with you, and Arthur, just daring the man to make a move.

Finally, the man spit in the melting snow at Boadicea’s feet but said no more. He didn’t look away though, staring a hole into Arthur’s head as good as a bullet.

Arthur turned to go but left his gun in his hand. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice.

You were both setting a trotting pace out of town when you turned back, looking for the same man. He was gone, and somehow that was worse. It settled like a heavy stone in the pit of your stomach, not knowing where he went.

Arthur saw you turned, watching, and whistled to get your attention. “Eyes on the road.”

You looked to him, then to the road, and knew why he’d said it. Nearly every pair of eyes was on you. On the gun still in Arthur’s hand.

When you skirted the edge of town, taking a small ridge upward and farther east, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

You felt more than saw Arthur’s gaze turn in your direction.

“What’re you going to name her?”

Another distraction. But you smiled at the irony as you patted the animal’s neck, thinking that he still didn’t even know your name.

“I don’t know yet.”

Before he could respond, a voice rang out above you both, making you stop.

“Best hold it there, you two.”

Your eyes landed on the very man you had been so nervous to lose sight of. Him and four others, all mounted, all armed, all sitting at the highest point of the ridge out of town. They must have galloped up here, circled around to beat you.

“What you want?” Arthur asked with more annoyance than anything. How could he not be overcome with fear? You certainly were—you were outnumbered, had the low ground. And three of the men, including the one who had spoken, were looking at you like you were a prize to be won, a toy to be broken.

“I want that pretty little lady on the mule, since you don’t seem to know how to show any respect.”

Although obvious he was speaking to Arthur, his eyes never left you as he said it. Your blood ran cold.

“Not gonna happen, I’m afraid,” Arthur said, so nonchalant you almost took your eyes off the man to look at him.

The man chuckled. “And you’re gonna stop me, are you?”

“I will if I have to. But, best not let things get ugly. You be on your way and we’ll be on ours.”

Was he insane? How would that kind of talk earn anything but violence?

As if thinking the word drew it out of the men, the one who had spoken moved in a flash, aiming his rifle. You ducked and kicked your mule, spinning her around when the inevitable report of a gun rang loud, echoing and repeating, echoing and repeating. The noise stopped before you could get so much as a few feet out of the line of fire, your mule panicked below you. Terrified of what you would find had become of Arthur, you waited with hands uselessly covering your head, waiting on them to drag you off the mule.

“Let’s go. Quick,” you heard, and the familiarity in the voice made you balk. You turned to find Arthur motioning to you, already turned onto the snow-covered path out of the valley. He was whole. He was alive. And the five men…

“How did you-”

“We got bigger problems,” Arthur said, turning back to look at the town below. You followed his gaze to see much more unwanted attention. The whole town’s attention. A few men were already mounting up with guns drawn, in defense of their own.

“Shit,” you said and, praying your mule was a fast one, kicked her hard and were galloping up the slope in a moment’s breath, snow flying with the way her feet struck the earth. You took her around the five men that lay dead on the ground, trying not to trample them. “You killed them!” you said uselessly.

Ahead were their respective horses, running wild at their fright over the gunfight.

“No shit,” Arthur yelled, his horse pulling ahead of yours with ease. “Come catch one of these horses. They’re faster-”

“No time!” you interrupted, though that wasn’t the real reason. Your mule hadn’t stepped a toe out of line of where you’d asked her to go. So you pushed her hard, galloping away from your pursuers into the flattening countryside, hot on Arthur’s tail.

It took entirely too long to reach the safety of a spance of trees, a few shots ringing out behind you just before you did. Arthur shouted, “On me! We’ll lose ‘em down here!” and you didn’t bother turning to see how close your pursuers had gotten. You could hear the distant hoofbeats. A cacophony of them.

Arthur shot through the woods on his mare like water down a hill, and it took all you had to keep up. Your mule placed her feet well, but she was bulky and slower.

“Quick!” Arthur said, and turned a sharp left behind a huge rock face that hid him and his horse from view. You followed, nearly overcome with relief when you saw how the rock turned inward on itself. It was a small overhang, almost like the mouth of a cave—the perfect hiding spot.

You followed his lead and jumped off your mule, leading her as far inside as she could go. She was breathing heavy beside Boadicea but otherwise stood firm. You felt so much pride for her you nearly choked on it.

Arthur threw you his reins and peeked around the rock face, the sound of distant riders still approaching. But the sound was farther off to the right, likely not heading in the right direction. Could you have gotten so lucky?

You put your hands on your knees and sucked in breaths, trusting Arthur to warn you if you needed to run again.

“Stay quiet,” he whispered, coming back over to stand beside you.

Finally, the weight of what just happened bore down on you. It was too much. It was all too much. The fall, the men in the woods, the wolves, and now this.

You fell to your knees, using every ounce of strength you had left just to breathe.

“It’ll be all right,” Arthur said lowly. “We’ll get out of here soon enough, leave that shithole of a town behind us.”

“We almost died two days ago,” you said, voice small. “Now this.”

That must have struck a chord with Arthur, as he didn’t immediately answer like he always did.

Then, serious for once, “I know.” He looked back out toward the sound of hoofbeats, their growing distance reassuring. “I know.”

The pair of you waited for what had to be an hour. The closest anyone ever got was a distant shout away, though they eventually either gave up or went into hiding themselves to try to draw you out. Arthur banked on the former.

“Let’s go,” he finally whispered, testing the waters by leading Boadicea out, her hooves clacking against the rock. You followed behind, waiting for the inevitable sound of a horse, of a shout, of another gunshot. Anything. But it never came. And once mounted, the farther you and Arthur rode, the more that weight on your chest eased. The sun was setting, and you were getting farther from danger’s reach with every step. Soon it would be night, and you could ride through the darkness until no one from that town had any chance of finding you.

A few more hours had the trees thinning further. You were getting nearer to the prairie lands of Nebraska. Arthur had slowed his horse to a walk a while back, and now he was checking over his weapons as he rode. You eyed him, still wondering how he had killed five men without a scratch. There was no doubt in your mind he was a dead shot with that revolver. But, you figured, outlaws had to be. At least the living ones did. It still befuddled you that he was an outlaw, as good as he had been to you. His protectiveness over you was no small thing, and all you could think was that you were grateful, immensely, that if you were forced to live without your parents, you had at least been granted this man in their stead. You would have wound up dead otherwise. Three or four times over now.

When Arthur pushed on well past sunset, you settled in for the night on top of your molly, reeling. The life you were leading was different than any you could ever have dreamed. It scared you, it wore you down, but it was something to reflect on. It only leant to that story you would get to tell your parents someday, if you ever found your way back to them. You had a feeling you were heading in the right direction.

Stiff and scarred and terrified still, you rode on. That was all you could do. It was all this life had left to offer.

_________

Chapter eleven is here.

tag list: @tommys0not0beloved @ultraporcelainpig @photo1030 @spiritcatcherxo @calcarius445

[fanfic-inator795]

SPOILERS FOR “THE END”

Okay so, much like the ending of Amphibia, I’m sure this ending’s gonna be controversial for some people for being so bittersweet and for it also ending with the two BFFs splitting seemingly forever… but honestly? I fucking loved it.

While the penultimate ep felt slightly rushed and just a tad unsatisfying due to all they had to cram in and wrap up, I love that this show’s finale was ultimately focused on just Molly, Scratch, and the latter’s series-wide arc of changing for the better and “being brought back to life”, as the TGAMM show bible put it.

Having believed in the Wraith feeling since the start, I was afraid that the Todd reveal would feel rushed given that the crew lost the 3rd season of set-up they wanted, but thankfully it managed to feel fairly natural since - while Todd himself may have been a more subtle hint that you’d only notice if you were paying attention- again, Scratch’s arc and the clear changes we see from him are made known throughout the series. So by the time you finally get to the big payoff, it feels like a natural conclusion.

For all the info dumps we got, I also felt like the ep was pretty well paced as well, still having jokes that made me laugh so it never felt too heavy or melodramatic. I also love that all the major characters in Scratch’s life got to play a role in this one final adventure. I also love that - for as important of a role that Adia played in helping Scratch regain his memories - it wasn’t framed as Scratch choosing his old BFF over his new BFF, but simply Scratch choosing to be brave and live the life he always wanted deep down instead of continuing to run away/hold himself back.

As for what could be seen as the Most controversial bit - Scratch forgetting his time as a ‘ghost’ - I feel like this was incredibly well crafted too. Like anything else in TGAMM (and as Molly herself says) there’s still that spark of hope hinting at Scratch still remembering Molly and the impact she had on him. He’s going to live with those memories and the importance she gave to enhappifying in his heart, even when he doesn’t consciously remember these things.

What’s more, the show also subtly but beautifully emphasizes that even if Scratch won’t fully remember Molly and the others until he’s officially died, the time he spent and the things he did for others as a ghost still mattered - they’re still going to be remembered by Molly, the McGees and their friends, and I LOVE how they also brought back Scratch’s silly toboggan-sneeze curse as just another way a part of ghost-him is going to stick with all of them no matter what - no matter how far apart they are.

While I would have liked one final song (which, I guess we arguably did get that in the credits) I also feel like ending the show on Libby’s Maya Angelou quote was the perfect summation on the show’s core themes - to not just do good for others, but for yourself. To live your best and happiest life.

In my opinion, this truly was just a master class in satisfying series finales. We didn’t need any big final battles or a ton more drama, just one last beautiful character piece that isn’t afraid to be somewhat bittersweet in order to fully sell its message while also still being just as fun and enjoyable and lovely as the rest of the series.

Really, the only thing that makes me kinda sad is that Scratch never said goodbye to GhostShark - but hey, he’ll see him again eventually, and honestly my hc is that the Jeoffs are taking care of Sharkie for him in the meantime. Other than that, this was a 10/10 finale for me, absolutely no notes.

Now… obviously this was the finale that the TGAMM crew was always leading up to, I assume once they realized that they weren’t getting a s3 they asked Disney to give them one final ep to wrap things up. If that wasn’t the case though and this was always meant to be the s2 finale, I guess s3 would be about Todd slowly remembering his life as Scratch and eventually coming back to Brighton alongside Adia to help Molly stop Jinx’s revenge or whatever. But… eh, I personally don’t think that’s needed.

I think the show ended perfectly, leaving just enough ambiguous for fans to still imagine how Molly and Scratch’s adventures are going to continue one day while at the same time being super satisfying - probably the best series finale that we’ve seen out of any modern Disney cartoon.

[baronessvonglitter]

if love be rough with you, be rough with love | chapter 4 | "tinder date"

Dave York x f!Reader

Word count: 2,401

Summary: you accept a date in order to try to get over your crush on Dave, but end up needing his help when you're too drunk to drive home.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, drinking (reader is of US drinking age), drunkenness, drunk confessions, Dave respects boundaries (for now) and tells you exactly what he wants to do to you when you're not drunk and can consent. Reader has long hair and wears a dress on her date.

Series Masterlist

The girls wake you up saying they want breakfast. So, still groggy, you get up, wash up and start the day. The three of you make French toast with powdered sugar and you help Alice cut up some fruit to go with it. The girls are in a good mood and the three of you dance around to music in the kitchen. It's an innocent day, but your thoughts are honestly elsewhere.

The phone call from last night seems almost like a dream. You can't be sure it really happened, but Dave's call is there in your phone log. You recall the sleepy sound of his voice, raw and intimate, the way he breathed, the immodest way he spoke to you, as if his hold over you was already strong. It is, and he knows it. You're not sure how you're going to address it when he gets home, or if you're even going to have the audacity to bring it up. Perhaps you would, if you'd felt violated by his late night call, but more than anything it turned you on. Dave was at a hotel with his wife, on their anniversary and still he called you. You were on his mind.

And as usual, he's on yours.

You're tempted to call him again, just out of cordiality, maybe have the girls say hello. But you resist even that. But you do text Dave and Carol in a group chat.

Good morning, lovebirds! Taking the girls to the zoo. Be back later. :)

You know it's a cheeky move, but right now it's the only thing that can scratch the itch you have to contact Dave. It's all you'll allow your greedy little heart for now.

It's a cool, bright day as you and the York girls stroll the zoo, drinking hot chocolate. In your coat pocket your phone vibrates and your heart speeds up in the hopes that it's Dave trying to reach you, but instead it's Cameron, one of the guys you met on Tinder, asking you out for that night. Cameron.. the guy who likes Texas Hold 'Em and is studying to be a veterinarian. For some reason you almost say no for some reason, but you need a distraction from your employer, so you accept, and you make plans to meet him at a bar that night.

That afternoon you put a date outfit together while Molly and Alice play with their dolls. You don't have too many impressive pieces in your wardrobe, but with the girls' enthusiastic encouragement you manage to put together a couple of selections.

Soon you hear the front door open and your heart does a somersault. You and the girls go out into the hallway and see into the foyer. Dave and Carol are home. The kids go and hug their parents as if they'd been away for weeks and not simply overnight. You walk down slowly, heart thundering in your ribcage.

"How was it?" you ask, taking the stairs down one at a time. There's a look of expectancy on your face as you study the happy couple, inwardly assessing their closeness. Dave's arm is around Carol's waist and they're both smiling. You smile too.

"It was lovely," Dave answers at the same time that Carol says, "We had the most beautiful time."

"That's good to hear," you reply, your smile giving nothing away. "Well, the girls have already had lunch and I'm heading out tonight. I have a date," you say, forcing excitement in your voice.

It's subtle, but Dave's eyes flick to you, appearing only slightly interested in your announcement. "Okay," he says brightly. "Who's the lucky guy?" Carol also looks at you with interest.

"His name is Cameron, and I met him on Tinder," you explain shyly. "It's about time I started testing the waters, get back in the game.."

The reaction from Dave is not what you expect. He doesn't show an ounce of jealousy. In fact his smile seems genuine, and a part of you feels disappointed.

"I'd better start getting ready, I don't want to be late."

There's a strange mix of excitement and disappointment as you get ready. You typically do low-key makeup, but tonight you do a smoky eye look, with glossy lips and your hair long and straight. You choose a purple and black dress with a black leather jacket and ankle boots. It's an edgy look, almost a sort of armor to keep you safe. You say a quick goodbye to Dave and Carol, who are in the living room watching something on TV. The electronic light casts a bluish tint on them. Carol wishes you luck, but Dave barely looks up from the sitcom they're watching, and it's another little disappointment that puts another dent in your hopes.

You meet up with Cameron at the bar, and the night starts off normal enough as you order your drinks. He's nice, friendly, attentive. But even in your distraction you think about Dave. He and Carol looked so happy when you left, so cozy.. it's a thorn in your heart.

You have no right to him. And even though you've only ever wronged Carol in your dreams and fantasies, it's better to move on before anything has a chance to blossom between you and him.

In lulls in the conversation you keep downing drinks. You need to relax but nothing is happening. You want to feel about Cameron the same way you feel about Dave, but there's no comparison. At the end of the night your date leaves after you reject his invitation to his place. You should say yes, but you refuse him. Having taken a taxi here, you have no ride home, in a part of the city you don't know well. Without a second thought you open your phone and call Dave.

Carol's gone to bed but Dave's watching TV, hoping to be awake to catch you on your way in. He tells himself it's some sort of fatherly instinct, but there's nothing fatherly about the way he felt when he saw you leave in that dress that's too short, your perfume trailing you, he knows you're pussy on a plate for this idiot you're going out with tonight. And there's nothing he can do about it that won't probably scare you off.

He gets a call and checks his phone. The last thing he expects is your name to light up his screen. He answers your call. "Is everything okay?"

"Heyyyy Dave," your voice slurs over the line. "You know, I really hate to ask but could you come give me a ride home? My date left." You giggle then hiccup.

He hides a smile. "Sure. Where are you?"

"Um.. I'm at the bar on 29th and Main? Oh my god you really will come get me? You're the nicest man everrrr. I promise I owe you one.."

A wry smile crosses his face. "I'll be there soon."

You wait on the curb outside the bar. A few stragglers are around but they don't bother you. Dave's car pulls up and you've never been happier to see someone in your life. "Hey you," you greet him as he gets out of the car. "I guess you're my taxi tonight," you giggle.

"Hey yourself," he replies, a little smile on his lips. "Are you okay? How much have you had to drink?"

"I don't know. Not a lot." But you're a little unsteady on your feet. Dave opens the passenger door for you and gently guides you in. You've never been in here before. It has that new car smell, plus leather, and a hint of his cologne. "I live like eight blocks away. Just don't take me to your house. I don't want to go over there like this," you tell him. It's the most sober thing you've said all night.

"I just want to make sure you're safe," he assures you. He backs out of the parking lot and starts to drive you home. "You'll have one hell of a hangover, but at least you'll be in your bed."

"The city's so beautiful," you mumble as you look out the window. To your drunken vision there's a blur of lights, landmarks you drive past every day that take on a beautiful yet eerie cast at night. "Music," you mumble, and flip on the car radio, not giving a care that it's not your radio to touch. "Let the Light In" by Lana Del Rey starts playing and you drunkenly mumble-sing along. You're never drunk, but you like the freedom it gives. Nothing is embarrassing to you. "Dave," you turn your gaze to him. "I want to ask you something." You don't care what he'll think because in the end he'll just blame it on your overconsumption of alcohol.

"What is it?" His tone is curious but his eyes stay on the road.

And now that you're about to ask such a question you realize you're not drunk enough to deal with his reply. In any case you go on with it. "Dave.. do you like me?"

He's quiet and you watch him, his handsome profile illuminated by streetlights every few moments. You're alone with him for the very first time. You've asked him for the truth and now it seems he won't given an answer. "Never mind. I was kidding. It was a joke."

He says your name, murmurs it like he's soothing you, like you've asked this question a million times before. "I do like you. I like you a lot."

You slowly turn your gaze at him, in disbelief, and your heart hammers within your chest. Looking down, you smile. The alcohol is exacerbating that feeling, and right now you're ecstatic. "Up ahead, take a right," you point the way. "It's the third house on the right."

You stop at the house you share with your roommate, who's evidently also out as well. "Thank you, Dave." You place your hand on his knee.

"You're welcome," his voice sounds thick, strained.

"Do you want to come in?" You blush and shake your head. "Not like that.. I don't mean.. just being friendly," you shrug and laugh.

"Yeah sure. I can stay for a bit and maybe get you to bed or something." He turns off the car and gets out to help you out.

"We have that expensive Thai beer you like," you offer as he helps you to the door. Of course you own things he likes, because you hope that in liking them yourself you can understand him.

Inside, you go straight to the small kitchen and open two bottles of beer and hand one to Dave. "To getting home safely. Both of us."

He smiles at you and clinks his bottle to yours. "Cheers."

It takes some effort in your state, but you hop up on the counter. Only in the space of your own home do you act so casual. "I have another question for you.."

Dave sips his beer, eyeing you, admiring your legs swinging over the counter. "Sure, ask away."

"When I asked if you like me, you didn't ask if I like you back. Don't you want to know?"

He laughs and he sounds quite sure of himself. "I guess I already know. But I'll humor you by asking: do you?"

You take a swig, studying him, looking for any chink in his armor, but he maintains such a cool facade. "Yes. I do." You take a deep breath. "And last night.."

"What about last night?" He leans against the counter, mirroring your relaxed, self-possessed stance.

You open your mouth but it feels dry. You remember that private moment on the phone. His eyes on you, Dave approaches you and sets his bottle down on the counter next to you. He stands before you and just like in your fantasies you open your legs for him. He puts his hands on your shoulders and slides them down to your arms. "I want to kiss you."

Your heart pounds so loud in your ears. This is the sweetest moment of your life, but it's not something you take lightly. He's married. You're the au pair. "You can kiss me.. here," you point to your forehead.

Dave gently takes your face in his hands and presses a kiss to your forehead. It's both innocent and intimate, a blessing and a sacrilege. His body is still so close to yours and you can feel the heat coming off him. You realize what a pivotal moment this is. You could easily take his hand, lead him to your bedroom. You just know it would be good with him. You've thought about it a million times.

"I want you to stay tonight," you tell him as every fiber of your being is on fire. Trepidation and confidence war within you.

His expression is unreadable, as usual. It's frustrating, not knowing what's going on in that head of his. "If I stay any longer I might hurt you."

And there's the truth, laid out flat on the table. Your situation is hopeless. "I don't want to be your mistake," you tell him. "I don't want to be something you feel bad about."

His smile is one of amusement, light dancing in his dark eyes. "I wouldn't fucking feel bad about you. I want to fuck your mouth, I want to fuck your tits, I want to fuck your wet little pussy, and I want to fuck your ass. And I wouldn't feel bad about any of it."

He's so casual about it that it takes a moment for you to realize what he's said. There's a thrumming deep inside you that wants to feel him in all those places.

"But not while you're drunk," he says with conviction, and steps away. His keys jangle in his pocket and you realize he's going to leave. "Will you be okay tonight?"

Stunned, you nod.

"Stay hydrated, take some aspirin before you go to sleep," he says gently, almost like a reprimanding parent. He doesn't make another move towards you, and his comment from earlier almost seems as if it hadn't happened. "Good night," he tells you softly, and leaves.

You follow him, watching him as if to savor the sight of him, until he's in the car, and then you watch until his headlights are long gone.

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dividers by @saradika 👑

[k-marzolf]

Our blood is burning.

Acquaintances to lovers, kissing, fluff & angst, fem!reader.

I talked to @idaofinfinity about my fic involving reader being taught darts. I remember her encouraging response, so I finally finished it.

1,124 words.

&&&&

You’d never felt seen, growing up in a house of ten children. But every night, Billy would come into the bar, bringing in the cold with him, and slide into the booth next to you, despite there being room next to Maria.

His knee would knock yours, and you’d shyly push back, a comfort feeling his leg against yours, that you were real, tangible.

They’d all talk about things you had no knowledge of, but you were just happy to be included.

And then he touched your knee as Maria and Frank moved to the pool tables, “Wanna split some onion rings with me?” Billy hummed in your ear, trying to be heard over the noise.

Your cheeks warmed, “Okay.”

“You likin’ New York, mouse?” He asked, dipping his onion rings in the sauce.

“Mouse?” You squeaked, turning to mush when your fingers bumped his as you grabbed an onion ring.

He smiled indulgently. “You’re like a timid little mouse, sweet.”

You swallowed, cheeks hot, “New York is loud. I miss the quiet life in the countryside, the stars in the sky at night. You can’t see the stars in the city.” You said softly, heart racing when you realized he paid more attention to you than you realized.

“Sweet country mouse, huh?” He teased you, nudging you with his knee playfully.

“Destructive city cat, you’ll claw my furniture up, and then bite me,” you shot back.

Billy laughed richly. “Only if you ask nicely. But be careful, cats eat mice.” He said, licking his finger, getting the sauce off. He smiled slyly at you, as though knowing where your mind was.

You pressed your thighs together, understanding the double entendre.

You wanted a taste of him, too.

An hour later, Billy had you in stitches over pranks he’d pulled in the Marines.

“I put scorpions in Frankie’s bed one time. His ass got stung, and my commanding officer was not amused. I’d never run so many laps.” Billy recalled, his finger dipped in the sauce, before he stuck it in his mouth, enjoying your laughter, admitting inwardly it was nice.

“Did he get you back?” You asked, elbow bumping his elbow, and your skin tingled where he’d touched you.

Billy huffed, leaning just a little closer to you, and you could smell his cologne, a musk, “Motherfucker got me back, put beetles in my bed. ‘Course, everyone thought Curt was the responsible one.” He said, sipping his beer.

“Isn’t he, though?” You teased sweetly.

Billy snorted; “Yeah. Goody two shoes.”

You giggled as Billy grinned; “Man, we did so much shit to each other. We lost count of who was ahead in our prank war. Curt thought we were being childish.”

“You must be close,” you murmured, you’d never been close to anyone, maybe Maria, but you’d always struggled socially. You had been largely ignored in your family, forgotten child number five. The middle child, never truly wanted.

But it felt as easy as breathing with Billy.

“To Frankie? Yeah, he’s my brother.” Billy smiled fondly.

“I used to skateboard down this hill where I lived. It was really steep. I always got bloodied up, but it didn’t stop me.” You said, remembering your mother’s house, and the bad memories that followed. But it didn’t stop you from loving the countryside, being free of societal expectations and pressures. You could just lay in the grass and dream, and think, and write in your journal while your cat, Molly caught mice, bringing them to you for head scratches.

Billy smirked; “Daredevil, huh?” He teased you.

You smiled, inwardly hoping you could do this with Billy again, tired of feeling lonely.

“More like dumb,” you said, tone self deprecating.

Billy tucked a stray hair behind your ear, and you were sure you looked like a deer caught in the headlights, “You felt free though, flying down that hill, didn’t you?” You were disappointed when he pulled his hand away.

You grabbed his hand, pulling it back. “Don’t stop.” You said, softly.

Billy hummed, thumb stroking your bottom lip, a frown creasing his brow, “You make me want more.” He said, looking frustrated.

“Is that a bad thing?” You asked softly, leaning closer to him, making him mirror your action.

“Yeah.” He husked, kissing your cheek anyway, attachments be damned, but he wanted you.

Your heart dropped, and you lowered your eyes. He tilted your chin up, “My ma safe havened me at a fire station in Albany. I learned at a young age that nothin’ lasts.”

You felt your throat constricting at the image of little Billy being left. “But doesn’t it make it sweeter?” You asked, lips quivering.

His thumb caught your tears. “Yeah, mouse. It does.” He agreed.

Billy was trying to teach you darts. You were entirely too focused on Billy and his forearms, however. His sweater pulled up to his elbows, making you want. He threw one with a thunk and it hit the bullseye, staying there.

“Your turn, mouse.”

You took the dart from him, fingers tingling as they brushed his.

You threw it like he showed you, it slapped the target and fell to the floor pathetically.

He booped your nose, laughing. “You’re terrible at this.” He teased you.

He threw another one. It hit the target and stayed.

You glared, when the next one you threw clung pathetically to the edge of the board.

Billy smirked and stepped behind you, holding your arm, and helping you aim. His hands drifted to your hips. “Throw it with some force, mouse.”

You tried, a little too focused on his hands on your hips, the warmth of his touch. It knocked the other one off the board, before falling to the floor itself.

Billy chuckled; “Goddamn, you’re bad. But it’s funny.” He said, pinching your sides.

You glared, “I may not be able to throw a dart, but I can count stitches and crotchet my ass off, Mr. Marine.”

Billy smirked; “Yes ma’am.”

“You should buy me a drink for being so mean.” You teased him, lightly.

“Sure, mouse.” He said amused, kissing your cheek, making your face heat up.

You looked away, feeling suddenly very shy, and Billy grabbed your chin, making you look at him. “You’re pretty cute Miss Crochet-My-Ass-Off.”

You bit your lip, and his eyes were drawn to the action. “Stop that,” he said roughly, pulling your lip from your teeth, before he kissed your mouth.

He tasted the onion rings on your tongue, his kisses were between soft and sweet, and hard. He pulled back smiling as you chased his mouth. “How about that drink?” He husked.

“Yes, please.” You said, heart thudding in your chest.

He grabbed your hand, pulling you along.

You followed, happily.